Half Pint

Dating, Lifestyle, People

“Just let me sulk!” I yelled at Connor as he tried to pull me out of my bed.  Long-legged blondie, the object of the fire whisperer’s affection, was inside my apartment…just making herself right at home. And by making herself at home, I mean, again, she was in my fucking home!  The only thing she was making…was me crazy!  I had just gotten home from my first training session as a bartender (which we will discuss later) and all I wanted to do was have a beer, eat some popcorn, and blog from atop my kitchen counter.  But noooooo….there she was.  While I still succumbed to the beer and popcorn, I sat atop my counter liking every single facebook picture of what I’m sure is the freaking cutest couple that ever lived.  Like.  Like.  Like.  Oh that’s a good one too.  Even better.  Love this pose.  Man they are so fucking photogenic.  Aw, they must be so in love!  Oooh, look they went to Europe together, how fun!  I could just put you two cuties in my right skinny jean pocket. and just fuck my right skinny jean pocket life.  Here’s the thing, he likes her.  I know he likes her.  So, why do I suddenly want to pee on every piece of furniture in our apartment marking my territory?!

I like her.  She has this nice golden blonde hair, tall thin frame, and fuck…kind of a cute laugh.  Semi-cute laugh.  The worst part is, I can only come up with 2-3 cuss words with which to refer to her as.  Whore, cunt, slut, for those of you wondering.  Even for my acquaintances I can muster up 8-10, SNAP OUT OF IT SAVANNAH!  I guess what I’m trying to say is that…she’s not bad…not half bad…not even a fucking quarter bad.  Sure she treats the fire whisperer kind of shitty and disposable, but I probably would too if I looked like a fucking supermodel.  Did I mention she’s blonde?  In case you did not know, I am brunette.  That’s my picture at the top of this blog, how nifty?  The fire whisperer is love drunk over this supermodel and shortie blogger over here just can’t compete.  The older gentlemen (day drinkers at the bar) have already come up with a nickname for their newest bartender…half pint.  Creative right?  Half pint and blondie are not even on the same playing field.  Fuck not even in the same ball park.  Fuck not even in the same motherfucking universe.  She’s got five main squeezes and I’ve got five main skeezes.

To top it all off (the beer I mean…just kidding…bar joke), I am the worst bartender on the planet.  People come up asking for the craziest fucking things like, “Yo, can I get a sexed up sunrise.” and then I reply, “No, but you can have an ice cold beer on tap?” you fucker (I am still smiling).  My training session virtually taught me nothing.  He showed me how to change a keg but not how to use the fucking register?  My roommate Connor was like, “Savannah, a lot of being a bartender is just common sense.” to where I insecurely replied, “Maybe I don’t have that sense.”.  Were we supposed to come with six senses you fucker?  M. Night fucking Shyamalan sure thought so.

On the plus side, today is my first meeting with the school newspaper crew.  Although college football, unreasonable parking availability, and freshman dilemmas don’t exactly top my charts of importance; I won’t turn down any opportunities to write.  Although most of the people working there found my blog to be….entertaining…I can only assume that to be a euphemism for You won’t make it in the writing world.  But then again, when have I ever let what someone said stop me from doing what I want to do.  I drink root beer for breakfast, write blog posts directed towards ex-boyfriends, live with one guy roommate I’m not dating, and I paint my nails fucking white as fucking Snow White.  Basically, I just do whatever the fuck I want these days.  Except for telling blondie to leave my apartment…I would never do that…though I did kind of want to.

My skeeze of the day goes AGAIN to the fire whisperer for bringing over his never-girlfriend to his ex-girlfriend/best friend’s apartment.  I have feelings yo!  Did I just say yo?  What I meant is, I have feelings…yo.  Blondie will likely make another guest appearance at our apartment and I guess having another girl around to fight the good fight against male egotism would not be the worst thing in the world.  Could blondie and half pint someday unite against a common cause?  To be determined.  Until then, I have four jobs to work, two meetings to attend, and one sweet sweet apartment to inhabit!  Leave a fucking comment…if you want to…which let’s face it you probably don’t you stupid lame unexpressive fuckers!

 

 

 

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14 thoughts on “Half Pint

  1. Jeez, with the profanity! But seriously I loved the line, “She’s got five main squeezes, I’ve got five main skeezes.” Made me laugh out loud in the office. Much love! Keep pushing all those boulders up all those hills yo!

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  2. The perils of being a short girl, huh? Personally, I’m going to cockpunch the next crapbag who uses me as an elbow rest.

    I hope your interview went well. Don’t worry if you get turned down; you’re at school to polish your skills! And in your downtime you can study how to mix random shitty cocktails. And maybe telepathy, so you can tell Blondie, “Eat 5 Twinkies and get out of my apartment” and the fire whisperer, “SKEEZE”.

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    1. Right?! Ooh and being patted on the head is the worst! Thanks for reading! I’ll work on the shitty cocktails and telepathy…honestly, I think I’ll have more luck with telepathy 🙂

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  3. Ah. I have been in yours shoes.
    Being a brunette half-pint as myself, I literally know your fucking pain.
    Kill her with kindness? Be the nicest bitch you never met. If that doesn’t work, I’ll help you dispose of the body.

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