I’ll have one soon.

Humor, Lifestyle, People, Relationships

It’s been a long time my friends.

I have been away because I am currently writing a book. You heard me. I’m writing a book.

Oh, and also working like four jobs, volunteering for a cat rescue center (I’m more of a dog person, really) and going to school.

But also, I’m writing a book.

Truth be told, I’m putting all my inspiration into this book right now. With that being said, I still think you all deserve an update.

I’ll have one soon.

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Whatever…and I don’t mean the fraternity.

College, Dating, Humor, People, Relationships

Last night I met a fraternity.

Alpha. Delta. Kappa something.

Greek letter. Whatever.

Let’s just call the fraternity that from now on– whatever.

The first guy I met from whatever asked me if I came to the bar alone because I looked “kind of stranded.”

What I was thinking: Is that just how you envisioned me when you drugged my drink?

What I said: No. My friends are over there (imagine me pointing somewhere in the distance).

THEN, as if mocking me, was all like…”So you’re just an independent women then?”

What I wanted to say: Does your chest hurt?

What he would have said if I had said what I wanted to say: Why?

What I wanted to say next: Because I’ve stabbed you about 100 times in my mind!

While I resisted the urge to rap that Webbie song about being independent, I got all “girl power mad” in my mind. That’s a thing by the way. Getting all “girl power mad.”

I knew in my heart that this entitled motherfucker would never vote a Hilary for president…or a Heather, Jenny, Sarah, Jessica or any other slut you can think of — and I mean slut in the best way possible.

But I’ve been doing this new thing where when things make me mad, or another form of mad like “girl power mad,” that I just find my center of calm.

It just so happens that my center of calm involves daggers, flames among other things that can inflict violence.

Anyhow…

After finding my center of calm, I met another boy from whatever, who tried to explain to me what exactly whatever was.

I have this thing where when I meet people in Greek organizations, I just start asking them really direct questions like, “What’s the point of a fraternity?”.

They immediately get super shifty, start sucking at pool — seriously, someone could do psychology research on this shit. With just one question, it’s like their identity is broken.

Just to give you some insight, he first tried to explain to me where his fraternity house was located.

What He Said: Are you familiar with this town?

Me: Um…yeah?

What He Said Next: Well like you know where the Alpha Pi (something or other) house is right?

Me: Um…no.

What He Said Then: Oh.

But after that we had a totally interesting conversation…about nothing. Really thought provoking though! I’ve been thinking about nothing all night.

I’ve decided that I don’t really like whatever. Here’s why:

They all kept calling each other “brothers,” which is weird to me because clearly there is no familial relation and I find it bizarre that they wish for there to be.

Then they all ran in a big pack like a cult. No wonder whatever guy #1 was so threatened by independence. He’s never fucking experienced it.

On top of all this, it’s like one bad style mistake after another. Seriously, guys wear those jeans? No wonder those sorority sluts are undressing them! Christ.

Yeah yeah, I drank my hatorade this morning. Mostly because I’m kind of hungover.

Did someone say electrolytes? Yeah. Didn’t think so.

I don’t have time for just whatever ya know?

To be honest, which I sometimes am, I had a good time last night. I got to shoot pool which really helped with the whole “center of calm” thing. (Mostly because they put a weapon in my hands.) I got to hang out with the wolf pack. (You know…howlin’ at the moon and stuff.) And I got to wear yet another one of my solid black ensembles. (Speaking of which!)

When I first arrived at the bar, I asked the wolf pack how I looked. On a scale of 1-10, of course, because guys get all panicky when you ask them to describe their opinion using actual adjectives.

C gave me a 9.

I fought my inner girlness and let that -1 slide. But don’t get me wrong, I thought about it for at least 22 minutes.

I was feeling pretty good, like 9-level good.

Later on that evening, this singer guy started hitting on me. I only know he was a singer because he literally serenaded me by the bar.

Now that’s not something I would recommend if you’ve ever been called tone-deaf or told that your voice resembled a dying animal, but I gotta say, for him it totally worked.

I love musicians.

I can’t say it enough.

Here, I’ll say it again.

I love musicians.

Anyhow, singer and I parted ways to go join back up with our friends.

Later on, I went to the bathroom and saw this gorgeous blonde girl walking out before me. I mean it. Gorgeous.

She was the worst kind of gorgeous too. Thin. Tan. Blonde. Did I mention thin? The kind of girl who would really threaten whatever boy #1.

I went back to the wolf pack and I was like…Yeah. I’m definitely a 9.

Later on, I disappointingly saw singer boy buying blondie an obscene amount of drinks. Because of course…he found the 10.

I tried to explain it all to the wolf pack on our way to a different bar.

Because there she was, all blonde and wearing this white summer dress, looking just fucking angelic. And there I was, wearing black from head to toe like the fucking angel of darkness.

Does good really always trump evil?

Whatever…and I don’t mean the fraternity.

Spring Break Part One: Scene Setting…Just So We’re Clear

Humor, People, Relationships

On Spring Break I took my top off (but only so I could shower), made many drunken phone calls (but not to an ex-boyfriend) and went shopping (but not for anything in particular). BUT. Spring break was fun!

For spring break, N and C took me to Austin, Texas for one of the best trips of my life.

While I was fairly excited about going, I had my reservations.

A) Austin sounds like the name of a five year old child whose parents have some sort of fibrosis. And the traffic. I hear there’s traffic.

B) We were staying with N’s not-so-evil twin brother and his wife. I have met them before, but there’s always a lot of pressure meeting friends and family of friends. They have known each other for years and here I am. I mean…there are people out there who have known me for years, but I don’t like have references or anything.

C) The entire car ride there, N and C played this stupid name game with actors’ names, which might have been great if I had not spent my entire life going to the movie theater for the sole purpose of eating popcorn.

D) All of the above.

D. The first letter of the word disaster and the last letter of the word fucked. Just so we’re clear, when I answered “D” I meant A-C. Just so we’re clear.

We arrived in Austin late at night and suddenly, I got nervous. Seeing AL (couple nickname for N’s twin brother and wife) made me nervous.

When I’m around new people I always feel like they’re judging me.

And they are.

They’re always like…

What’s with that freckle on her arm?

Why does she say statements like questions?

…Okay. (See! Her pitch gets higher at the end!)

I don’t know about this girl, but what I do know is…

Then they follow it up with something that they know. Or something that they think. Like, I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.

Okay? (see she’s doing it again…)

Plus all these people (N, C, AL and all the other fucking letters in the alphabet) are older than me, more intelligent than me, and brush their teeth more thoroughly than me ya know?

Anyhow, my emotional reservations were cancelled when we stayed up until five a.m. watching N, C and A pick up one of ten million guitars hanging on the wall, and when L gave me the biggest guest bedroom in the house.Okay! And that’s not a question just so we’re clear.

Now that I’ve set the scene, I realize this could be like a three-blog-post kind of affair. That’s right. Three posts. Just so we’re clear.

But at least it’s coffee scented?

Humor, People

I know I have not posted in a while, but that is because I have been burning my coffee scented candle at five ends. And now wax is starting to get in my hair.

My very unkempt hair.

The past few weeks I have been on an emotional roller coaster.

Unfortunately this roller coaster does not pause at the high points, where you can enjoy the view, but instead slows down to a near halt at the low points, where I just keep wondering when the ride is going to freaking end.

But as I’ve mentioned before, I am not even tall enough to ride the freaking roller coaster (See Post: Why Can’t I Be Tall?). Instead, I am sitting below on an uncomfortable bench, shoveling ice cream into my petite body and waiting for my friends to come hang out with me again.

Everyone keeps sending me that predictable “How are you?” text and I just keep replying:

Eh.

Ugh.

Umm.

Eek.

Anything that is just 23% shy of actually being a word.

This makes it worse because I just provoked them to send me the other predictable “What’s wrong?” text.

Which might be fine. Except for it’s not.

I don’t know what’s wrong.

So I throw a not-so-curved curve ball and reply, “Nothing is wrong.”

That’s right.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothing keeps me up at night. Nothing makes me eat two bags of popcorn. Nothing makes me regret throwing away Taylor Swift’s last album. Nothing makes me tear up when I’m drunk. Nothing IS wrong!

FYI: This weekend I’m throwing a pity party. Everyone’s invited! BYOB! And maybe bring some 2nd B in that acronym for me too because, in case you haven’t noticed, NOTHING IS WRONG!

Ugh.

Nothing has gotten so wrong that I might start using hash tags in my blog posts again (See Post: A Crowbar Huh?).

Eek.

It’s been so long that I have a million things to tell you and not sure where to start.

I used to lay it down in chronological order, but my aforementioned, never- fucking- ending candle, has me all confused about where things begin, where things end and what the fuck is even happening.

Umm.

But at least it’s coffee scented?

I’m going to go wash this wax out of my hair and then come back at you with a post about my spring break trip!

Eh?

Sneak Peek: It involves drunk dialing, guitar playing and hunger striking, which for those of you who don’t know, has virtually nothing to do with eating.

Always the audience, never the musician.

Humor, People

Yesterday I took one look at the stove and I just knew.

I knew it needed to be cleaned.

Three minutes into cleaning the stove using something called Easy Off, I realized, I could no longer move my right hand. And by right hand, I mean the one that looks like a foam glove you would wave at a sporting event.

I started flooding it with water while singing Toxic by Britney Spears. I’m addicted to you. Don’t ya know that you’re toxic?

Classic.

Anyhow, my hand still looks pretty rough and I told every single person in the bar last night why, starting with the words “So today…”

Okay so enough with my nonsense. I better catch you up on this thing I refer to as “My Life.”

1. My roommate Connor is MIA. He left to go see his girlfriend and never came back. This might be a really appropriate time to talk about my dad. Pass. Anyhow, I am going to refrain from posting “Have You Seen My Leaves Beard Hair All Over the Bathroom Roomie” flyers for a few more weeks because I knew how susceptible Connor is to sex slavery. Ooh just thought of another Britney Spears song. Fun.

2. My blonde friend Leah is now staying with us (me) for four days of every week. She bought groceries, cleaned the apartment and cooked me dinner all in one day, confirming what I already knew. She is better at life than me. But I marked housewife off my list and ate that dinner she slaved over that fucking god forsaken, hand swelling, good for nothing stove cooking. Ya know I actually get the whole slavery thing now. Neat.

3. I have been hangin’ out with this pack of musicians. That’s right. I called them a pack. I’m a lone wolf no more. Just runnin’ with a pack of musicians. Because yes. I’m the kind of person that “runs” with others. Anyhow it’s great. Except for when it’s awful.They just look at an object and suddenly it’s an instrument and suddenly it’s a concert and suddenly it’s a really awesome concert because suddenly they’re just really fucking awesome at everything and suddenly I hate them so suddenly I throw myself onto the couch dramatically so that I can pout. It’s all very sudden.

Always the audience, never the musician.

Anyhow I actually am in love with my wolf pack. All three of em. How many wolves do you need to call it a pack? 20, like cigarettes?

Anyhow there’s “C” who plays the drums and is awesome at it. Anytime I put my iphone in and start playing some cool indie band I love, he has to casually announce “Oh I played with them one time back in Vietnam.” Except for he says it without the “back in Vietnam” part. He was misquoted…by me. Did I mention I want to do journalism?

Okay okay, then there is Andy who I have mentioned previously. He’s like my bestie but let’s not make a big thing of it. He plays this thing called a dobro guitar, which you basically lay on your lap because you’re lazy. I like to call it a “Go Bro!”. Anyways, he’s good at that. So that’s annoying.

Last but certainly not least, there’s “N”. They actually named Guitar Hero after him. He is the guitar hero. Literally. I tell everyone he’s the best guitar player in the world, which is really unfair since I have not met every guitar player in the world, and is not at all unfair because I know absolutely nothing about guitar playing.

And also, you know how couples “finish each other’s sentences?” That did not really need to be in quotes did it? “Who fucking knows” N, as I call him, finishes my jokes it’s crazy. I’m halfway through my second knock and he’s all like, “Who’s there?”

N.

N’s there.

Alright so I’m not going to tell you fuckers to leave a comment, because last time everyone did so begrudgingly. But you should get that chip, which is laying on your shoulder by the way, and just put it somewhere else.

Like in a comment box.

Accompanied by a really friendly comment.

Teeth Are People Too

Humor, Lifestyle, People

You may have noticed I have been a little absent lately. This is because I got busy. But in an outside of the bedroom kind of way. I have had this new, unheard of, version of writer’s block. Instead of not having enough things to write, I have had way too many.

I don’t even know where to start.

Breakfast this morning?

My trip to the dentist?

The movies last night?

Endless.

Possibilities.

Breakfast this morning?

I didn’t have it.

My trip to the dentist?

He told me I had a wild tongue. No really. Wild. It was way more appalling than seeing fifty shades of boring last night.

The movies last night?

Weak. Like me after an afternoon jog down the street.

So the other day at work, my coworker whose name is foreign to me (and every other American for that matter) really got under my skin. I decided to wear my headband horizontally, hippie style, right? Chic, I know.

He has the audacity to ask me, “Why are you wearing tiara?”

I knew exactly what he meant, but I was way more into playing dumb.

“What are you talking about?” I said to this foreign named gentleman with a snippy mouth.

“When you wear like this (makes hand gestures towards my headband), it is crown, no?” said this stupid freak in broken English.

“No, it’s just a headband A******.”

Keep in mind, I did not call him an asshole, his name just starts with an “A” and is legitimately that many letters long. Convenient though right?

If I were a princess, I would’ve smited (smitten? sp?) him. I mean banished him to his own country. Sorry I got religion and government confused…

Because that never happens.

Anyhow, he got on my nerves. And so did that fucking god- awful shot of anesthetic my dentist gave me.

There he is. Staring at me. Right up close. Looking into my mouth — my nose. Like he owns the place! Then sticks a needle into my gums like the corner of the sharpest freaking tortilla chip on the planet.

Ouch.

I have feelings ya know? Teeth are people too.

Of course he knows that, this sorry excuse for a doctor. He has to know that I didn’t drink all that soda, eat all that chocolate and watch all that television for nothing.

I did all of that so that someday, preferably on a Thursday morning an hour before work, I could come to his office and feel the deep deep drilling of his….whoah no, sorry I mixed up the movies last night with the dentist.

Fifty shades of grey. Where was the deep deep drilling I had my heart set on seeing? Ugh. Fan fiction.

I dragged 5 of my friends to see the late showing of what I hoped would be eyebrow raising, goosebump causing, nail polish removing sexual tension and just…no. No.

God fuck this shit. I’m tired of working. I’m tired of shelling out $40 a week at the dentist. And mostly I’m tired of you sons of bitches not leaving me any comments. All this social media is everyone just trying to connect to one another!

So leave a fucking comment…connect four style!

P.S. I’ll post more often. In the words of some hip- hop artist I’m unaware of, this new writer’s block “got me like whoah” .

Not necessary but would you like me to put the Rufi in it for you?

Dating, Humor, People, Relationships

(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…

“No.”

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?

Fucker.

Electronics go together right?

Dating, Humor, Lifestyle, People, Relationships

I apologize for my leave of absence, but I have had the flu…or at least so my doctor says.

I was like…

What exactly was it that tipped you off? My hair? This sweater? My negative flu test results?

She sent me home with flu medication which will be great!  …if I actually have the flu.

I know Dr.Slut was busy and overwhelmed by a ton of other patients and probably exhausted from the holidays but what does it take to get a freaking Z-Pak around here?! …which by the way is an antibiotic not a rapper.

Having the flu has brought back a lot of cherished memories for me. Like for instance what it’s like to feel your ears pop a hundred times every time you swallow. Or that awesome sensation you get in your throat just before you cough up mucus. And last but certainly not least, the ever memorable sneezing uncontrollably and then awkwardly wiping away snot in front of peers and coworkers.

Ah, but have no fear, I did not let this so-called flu interfere with my Christmas spirit.

This year, the question on everyone’s mind was…What did my mom get me for Christmas?

This has been an ongoing joke amongst my friends after last year’s Christmas debacle when my mom bought me a tablet case…for the tablet I don’t have and online photography lessons…for the camera I don’t have.

After Christmas had ended, my mom approached me smad (sad/mad) that I seemed a little disappointed by my gifts that year. She threw all the fun words at me selfish, childish, rude, cranky…you fill in the blanks.

I blamed it on mother nature then immediately started looking forward to next Christmas, laughing in expectancy of the slew of useless but equally charming Christmas gifts my mom would get me.

Leave it to my mom to throw a curveball. Instead, she got me all these gifts I do like. The nerve!

After an even more disappointing Christmas than expected, I took my potentially flu-ridden self and headed back to my college town in a car full of awesome Christmas presents…ugh.

But before that…because believe it or not, there was a before that…

Here’s what you missed:

1. I got an internship!

So…that happened. I answered the phone in a really bitchy voice thinking that it was one of the million car insurance companies that kept calling me after I filled out a couple of car quotes online but instead it was this sweet lady offering me a summer internship.

Hey stupid car insurance company calling me again?! Wait, you’re calling to offer me an internship? Thanks! And by thanks I mean never call this number again! Ya hear?!

Needless to say I was a little caught off guard but still extremely excited!

My internship is with a newspaper in the features department no big deal! My friends keep asking me what a feature is and I try to explain it to them…

Let’s say a puppy were to climb up a tree and save a kitten from a burning branch…

Everyone behold my future in journalism.

2. I may have…hungoutwiththefirewhisperer. (If you don’t know who the Fire Whisperer is…you may have to read my entire blog starting here: Kisses Here and There) Moving on.

He asked me if I had ever considered getting a journal…I was like…You think my blog is juicy?! You should see my diary…

3. Preston (If you don’t know who Preston is, see post: Not Even For a Million Dollars) got me some unique Christmas presents this year. The first being a gift card to the nail salon. Practical. Thoughtful. The second one being…Do I have to say it?

A vibrator.

He had been joking about it for a while so I thought it was exactly that…a joke. Turns out, not so much. I accepted the gift casually. No big deal. Just a gift. From Preston. I can take a joke. This is a joke right?!

I was feeling cool as a cucumber for a while but then things took a turn for the worse when I decided to clean my room.

I kept picking up the gift and then moving it somewhere else, quickly realizing I had no idea where it belonged.

Where exactly do you put a vibrator in your room?

Oh how bout over here by my curling iron? Electronics go together right?

Why not under the bed? I can’t put it near the bed!!!! People will think!

Perhaps in this drawer…that no one will ever open…until that day…when someone decides to open it!

Do you hide it somewhere just waiting for the day when someone finds it and gives you that look like…Why were you hiding this Savannah?

Do you put it out in the open for everyone to see? No big deal. It’s just my…

I finally set it down in this basket thing and finished cleaning my room because lord knows nothing was getting clean while I moved a vibrator from location to location in my room and closet.

Let me know if you have any suggestions. Keep in mind the open door policy at my apartment (we have no doors) so people do tend to…roam.

One of my other friends asked me if Preston got it for me as a joke or if he really thought I needed it.

I looked right.

I looked left.

I don’t know. Probably both.

Eek.

4. Dean (If you do not know who Dean is read post: Who The Fuck Is In My Bed Right Now?) helped me carry in all my Christmas presents, in order to show me some Southern hospitality in accordance with his adorable Southern accent…did I mention adorable?!

Okay so I think you’re mostly caught up on the on-goings, goings on, whatevers of my life.

Sneak Preview:

1. New Year’s I am having a major girl’s night out and a killer blog post I secretly promised you.

2. I have the apartment to myself for a few more days now, which we all know is a recipe for trouble…naked trouble.

3. I have this awesome new red dress…and currently no real plans to wear it but damn! Dayyyyuuuummmm! It looks good!

My skeeze of the day goes to dun dun dun…the fire whisperer AGAIN! He got all excited to show me this song that just says the word “sleeze” repeatedly! Sleeze and skeeze…TOTALLY different.

Leave a comment you silent, quiet, boring, sleezy, skeezy motherfuckers!

Wait, what?!

Humor, Lifestyle, People, Relationships

Useless disclaimer: This post is racist.

If you are a guy friend of mine, there almost inevitably becomes an occurrence in which someone will assume I am your girlfriend.

We are eating dinner together.
They charge my meal to your card.

We are out and about together.
We run into your friend who insists you introduce him to your girlfriend.

We get pulled over by the cops together and they search the car.
asking if we live together.

Wait what?!

Anyhow, everyone looks at me and labels me ya know?

One word.

Girlfriend.

I’m always like…ew gross…as if I’m completely repulsed by the idea.

I am.

They just look at me and think. Girlfriend material.

I try to explain to them…No I’m much more stretchy than that. Lots more give in the fabric.

But nevertheless, they continue to throw f-ending acronyms my way.

They look at me – the skin, the hair – girlfriend. All the way. She screams girlfriend.

Just once I’d like someone to look at me and think…

Classy hooker
Sugar mama
Gay best friend
ROOMMATE
Uncle tom’s cabin

Wait what?!

I am honored, however, to be considered the girlfriend of these fine young male friends I so often accompany to date-like settings.

I wonder what it might be like for them when people assume I am there girlfriend.

You know what happens when people assume…

Assumptions are made.

I wonder what it’s like for them when they have a girlfriend, are looking for a girlfriend or when they wish I was their girlfriend.

Wait what?!

Hell no I’m not his girlfriend! Wait, why are you laughing? Is it such a crazy, out-of-this-world reaction for them to think I could be your girlfriend?! I could totally be your girlfriend!

Wait, what?!

Everyone keeps sending subtle messages my way hinting about my love life.

Any new boys Savannah?

I haven’t heard you mention finding anyone attractive in a long time.

Ooh aah who was that guy with you?

Cool shirt.

Wait what?!

Some messages are more subtle than others.

I have a slew of excuses I have been excusing every time they say something.

No who needs boys?!

Statistics say hott guys have gone down 60% this year.

That was my brother.

I know this shirt’s cool! And even cooler because it can only be worn by an independent woman!

Some responses are more blatantly bitter than others.

The other day I was walking through campus to the parking lot feelin’ all girl power/me power when I saw this Asian couple (them being Asian has no relevance to the story I’m just racist…or trying to paint you an extremely accurate picture of the scenario) trying to set the self-timer on their camera. At first, I walked right on by.

Carefree go me!

Then I was like dude I feel good! I walked back and offered to take the picture for them.

There they were. Holding each other. On campus. In front of Christmas lights. Together.

I hate this.

Wait what?!

Throughout all of this, I tried to remind myself that they will probably end up deported, working for 1 cent an hour carrying only the one child they were allowed to birth.

Hayyah!

Sorry I just thought of karate out of the blue. (Out of the yellow)

Tai.

Kwon.

Do.

Jiu jitsu. They are all the same really. No, not the martial arts, the people. They all look the same.

Us Caucasians, however…so many defining features. Blond hair, brown hair, red hair; blue eyes, green eyes, hazel eyes; pale skin, tan skin, freckled skin…so many more options than them.

You can tell us apart.

Except for when I am with one of my guy friends. Then, instead of considering us apart, we’re like two parts…meshed into one part…

Wait what?!

A crowbar huh?

College, Dating, Humor, Lifestyle, People, Relationships

#liveinahouse #eatfoodtosurvive #Ihavefivesensessometimessix

Hash tag this hash tag that

#youshouldstopfuckingusinghashtagsbecauseit’sgettingonmynerves

On a side note, I really enjoy hash browns.

I know it is a little late for Thanksgiving, but one of the many things I have come to appreciate lately is my roommate, Dodecahedron. (If you have not read my blog before and want to know about this so-called roommate See Post: That’s My Roommate)

In the past few months he has been really helpful about driving me after I’ve been drinking and just showing a general concern with where I am when I am not home between the general hours of 1 and 5 a.m.

He usually sends me a text that’s all like…Hey where you at?

Then I start typing a text that’s all like…

Dude I’m just tryin’ to party man. (This occurs roughly around the same time I decide to take up surfing)

Then I stop and think to myself…Sometimes you’re not just tryin’ to party man. Sometimes you’re in an alley, your hand’s bleeding and your purse has been missing for 2+ hours.

I start rephrasing my text message.

I’m okay roomie, just been drinkin’ a bit too much…and also I love you. And 3-5 out of my 10 ex-boyfriends if you could tell them that for me! I would do it myself but I’m already on the phone balls deep talking to my girlfriend, who may or may not be picking me up from this alley, about boyfriend #4 before we try and tackle my location.

On the plus side, I think some of my ex-boyfriends even look forward to my semi-annual drunken texts.

Aw dude, Savannah just texted me! She said she still misses/loves me…that girl…sheesh. What a sweetheart?!

The next day I send a small disclaimer.

Hey, sorry about the drunken texts last night…guess I still haven’t gotten over you.  But hey! Cheers to another year of trying!

Alright so now that I’m done appreciating on my roommate, I’m going to switch over to one of my favorite topics…

#hatersgonnahate

One of the things I really hate is staring. Despite what may or may not be accurate, I always become determined to figure out what someone’s motives are for staring.

#gottagettothebottomofthisstaring

I usually come up with the following reasons:

A) You’re in love with me.

Understandable. But still highly inappropriate. Stop it! You’re making me blush!

B) You hate everything about me.

Hate? Muah? But why? I’ve dedicated my entire life to pleasing other people!

C) It’s your culture to stare.

Ever heard of assimilation? Say where are you from? Where were you born? Stop fucking staring at me!

D) You think you’re better than me.

Fuck you! You don’t even know me! I once had to walk to my car in the snow! Then I had to drive really cautiously on slick roads!

Then I realize they were not staring at me at all, but instead staring at the tall, hott blonde girl standing just behind me.

My whole illusion is shattered.

Fuck you! I deserve to be stared at too! Geez, what’s it gonna take to get some attention? NOTICE ME!

Pathetic.

So lately my phone has been blown up with texts and phone calls, making these really annoying bell sounds that I am going to change just as soon as I get a few more complaints out of my system.

One of the first text messages I received said…

Hey sloot.

Believe it or not, this is one of the more endearing nicknames Preston has for me. (If you want to know who Preston is, See Post: Not Even For A Million Dollars)

Instead of these people reaching out to me while I’m sliding in my socks across the wood floors of our apartment singing Jessie’s Girl, you wait until I have a take home final, an article to write, a few overnight shifts and really unkempt hair.

#I’mbusy

During my overnight shifts, I typically get approached by more guys than my average day shifts. Every year this is re-proven.

This year I met the skeeziest of them all, who I prefer to call none other than…

#stalkercustodian

First, he’s sweeping the floor.

Now he’s mopping the floor.

Then he’s buffering the floor.

So if anyone wants to know why the first floor in the library is the only floor clean in the library, then just know it is because of stalker custodian, who is drastically beginning to resemble a man I like to call…

#rapistcustodian

Now stalker custodian used to be satisfied just #staringatme.

But now, stalker custodian likes to #talktomeforwaytoolongforpersonalcomfortandsafety.

Stalker custodian has now told me several stories, one in which he got pulled over by a cop when driving with his roommate because they both had firearms sitting in the seat and were wearing hoodies.

#shocker

Another fun story involved him beating his ex’s new boyfriend with a crowbar.

In retrospect, I probably should have replied saying something like…

“Oh yeah, my BOYFRIEND and I’s weapon of choice is also a crowbar,”.

Instead I said…

“A crowbar huh?”

#I’mscared

His last story was a really charming tale of puppy love, one in which his dog physically ate the neighbor’s dog.

#Imissthecrowbarstory

So while he is planning our thug wedding, I am planning my own funeral.

#deathbycrowbar

The worst part is that I think he falls under category A of my reasons for staring.

He loves me.

#skeezeoftheday?

For the record, I have never once nor will ever find stalker custodian attractive. He pretty much ruined that for me with the chain hanging out of his excuses for jeans denim pants.

What is that chain for because it’s freaking me the fuck out!

Unless it’s like bondage…because that could be kind of hott.

But like different guy/different chain ya feel me?

I once participated in this lab research study and made a bondage joke. I was like…

Wow Savannah, that was highly inappropriate.

Sadly that was just after my Kanye West joke and slightly before my Holocaust…you know what, never mind.

#misunderstanding