(I really don’t want to have to explain this, in the same way I did not want to begin this blog post with parentheses, but a necessary evil. Throughout the post I will be mentioning numbers which are referring to my New Year’s post, 99 problems…and 2015 is one.)
So there I was crying and watching How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM).
I know you commenters told me to stay away but Robin’s my girl. While some have deemed me the third (technically fourth if you count grandma) Gilmore girl, I wanted 5 dogs long before they produced HIMYM. Just ask my high school sweetie…just maybe don’t mention my name in the process considering we are not exactly on speaking terms.
If you watch HIMYM, then you know, like most good shows there are a lot of pretty “epic” moments.
Last night, I had one.
Again, there I was, crying and watching HIMYM. I said to myself,
This isn’t you.
Even though this is definitely one of my many sides let’s get real. This is like the fucking epitome of me…notice how epitome ends in “me?”
I dropped my laptop. Literally. (#1 accomplished)
I put on my lowest cut top that looks like I’m not trying too hard, but still somewhat hard (that’s what she said…or someone said, I am leaning towards Robin). I put on mascara, red boots and my trench coat (it was raining just so you have a little scene setting) and headed to meet one of the most independent women I know…Abigail.
If you want a small tidbit on Abigail see post: Bitch Thinks I Use Flash Cards. To answer your question, yes, Abigail is the bitch who you thinks I use flash cards. I do.
I get to the bar and explain to Abigail that prior to my 5 minute hair and makeup fix, I was crying and watching HIMYM. She asked if it was the episode and I was all like…
She turned towards the bartender and said,
“We are going to need shots.”
A girl after my own heart.
I knew that I had to get fixed up and go to the bar because while there is a side of me that likes to sit at home crying/watching netflix, there is another side of me that is determined to charm every guy on the planet (specifically men in the service industry and coworkers) and make them fall in love with me then never actually give them a chance. Just call me Britney Spears because…Oops, I did it again.
The other day, my friend Kelsey and I went to get food where I think she was pretty excited to watch me harass the cashier, because this is not exactly uncommon for me.
Kelsey was all like…Can I get uh…where I interrupted her raising my voice (#70 complete) a little…Tell her no! Tell her no! She’s asking for it!
He ignored me and was like…Sure…to which I replied, “Psh, you’ll say yes to anything.
He still didn’t give me much more than a smirk (rookie mistake) which only made me want to push his buttons…more and more.
Anyhow, back to last night.
I pretty quickly had some guy compliment me on my red heeled boots and I was all like…Rank them on a scale of 1 to 10 go!
Surprisingly he did…Men really will say yes to anything I swear. But be warned if you say no to me, I will do almost everything in my powers to turn that frown upside down so to speak…turn the no into a yes if you didn’t get that lame joke.
Long story short, Abigail and I had a night out on the town where we ended up being some of the last people in a bar dancing to some song that keeps saying “Ima make you beg for it.” I am pretty sure the last 3 guys in the bar thought they won the lottery because of our not so stripper striptease. Not because of me (See #89), but because of my really hott friend Abigail with implants.
Then there I was…with my temporary tattoo from New Year’s, because yes. Yes I am the kind of person who would put on a temporary tattoo for New Year’s.
The truth is, I do not want to be the bummed out girl who is once again crying over the fire whisperer.
At first, I was all like…How am I gonna get over him?
Then I was like wait! You have gotten over the fire whisperer like 500 times, there is practically no one more qualified! I am so qualified to get over the FW that I could put it on my resume under both the skills and previous employment sections.
Piece. Of. Cake. Do you want to know what isn’t a piece of cake?
A piece of a pie. A piece to a puzzle. And also…trying to get food this morning while I’m hungover.
Skeeze of the day goes to this guy who offered to “carry my drink” last night. Not necessary but would you like me to put the Rufi in it for you?