I hate it when backstabbing Facebook pops up with misleading notifications. You’re all like Yes! People are liking my shit! only to realize that people are actually liking other people’s shit. You comment on one cute girl’s picture and a million notifications start popping up confirming that everyone else also thought that picture was cute as fuck. Facebook has also started randomly notifying you of random people’s birthdays. It’s always this awkward moment because at first you feel obliged like Man, maybe I should post on their wall telling them happy birthday, then you realize you have no idea who the fuck that person is thinking, Birthday wishes comin at ya from a facebook stranger. Creeeeeeepppppper status. Man, fuck you facebook. Is it so wrong for me to want my facebook experience to be about me? Cheers to low self esteem…just don’t expect me to mix the drink for said cheers…because I can’t. Last night I had someone ask me for a Bombay and tonic and I was like, Bombay is a location. I suddenly felt like a CIA agent Someone, this guy needs a location!
My roommate and I live downtown and often get mail for a bunch of random companies that previously shared our address. We recently received an envelope addressed to Hall of Heroes. I looked at Connor, then at the envelope, and then at my reflection and stated “Looks like you’ve come to the right place.” I quickly meowed, declaring myself as catwoman and was like wait, “If I am catwoman, what the hell are you gonna be?”. Connor catman to the rescue right meeeeooooowwww! After opening the mail, I began telling Connor about my first meeting with the school newspaper. I volunteered to write 2 stories for the first issue, one about ways to get involved with religion on campus…hahahaha, I can hear your laughter from here! To be fair, no one else volunteered…shocker! My second one is about the best places to eat and drink which, let’s face it, is much more my speed. If there is one thing this girl knows how to do, it is how to show you a night out on the town. Just don’t expect your night on the town to end up in my bed…because that’s gettin old reeeaaalll fast. Oh wait, did I forget to mention the new hide-a-bed couch I made my “boyfriends” carry up our two flights of stairs? Funny you should mention it. I think my roommate wants to kill me, because not only is this couch floral and originating in the 1970s, but is also heavy as fuck. After the first flight of stairs, the boys took a break saying, “Well, this looks like a good place for the couch.” The couch was my favorite price…free and I couldn’t help but to snatch up this offer as an alternative for my latest bed crashers. Dean meet fold-out couch.
Today is fucking thursday and you know what means. You know what that means right? It’s time for a throwback to the good ole’ days back when I was not working four jobs and pining over an ex-boyfriend. Four years ago today, I lost my virginity. I’m just kidding, I have no idea what day it was. Upstairs, inside the home of my high school sweetie’s parents, I lost my virginity. There was one huge problem, I had my socks on. While he was finishing up his ten second version of love making, my socks were completely covering my little size six feet. It was awful. Maybe I am just fixating on this because I was not entirely happy with the whole situation, but geez, you can get me out of my top but not my socks? Anytime I have sex now, I make sure those constraining pieces of fabric are ripped from my feet in the sexiest way possible. If I see those fluffy fabric surroundings anywhere near my feet, I always stop the guy like, “Whoah, whoah, I can’t do this.” He freaks out and backs off. “No, I just have to take my socks off.” (takes socks off and turns Netflix on) “You may continue.” Socks are appropriate for some circumstances like puppetry, sliding on wood floors, and monkeys…but they are just not appropriate for sex. I recently read this article in Cosmopolitan magazine that said socks can increase pleasure during sex. The deep exhale from my laugh practically turned the page for me. Say yes to protection…but no to socks. Just because I can’t make a Cosmo, doesn’t mean I can’t read one. Get your facts straight Cosmo…until next issue.
My skeeze of the day goes to a guy named Michael.
First Text from Michael (at 1:00 a.m.) : Would you wanna come over and get to know each other?
Me: The only person I hang out with at this time is my roommate. Sorry.
Second Text from Michael (1:02 a.m.) : Do you wanna come over and have drinks?
Third Text from Michael (1:05 a.m.): Could I take you on a date sometime?
Need I explain? Maybe it really is easy being skeezy.