WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/27/13

 

Slut O'Ween really is my favorite holiday of the year *And not just because its Irish* but I am bummed that even though I finally live in a house *On an awesome, family friendly street* I will not be a “Good candy” house. I always thought when I grew up I would be a "Good Candy" house, giving out full size Snickers without breaking a sweat and restocking with flair. *Seriously. I thought my house would be so badass that trick or treaters would bus themselves in just to get a shot at my stash*

The reality is sadly, somewhat of a letdown. I just don't have a ton of extra cash to spend on total strangers *Tiny ones at that* But even with a serious lack of fundage, I did try. I mean I did spend precious weekend hours shopping at the suburban hell known as Wal-Mart. *Valuable tip:Never go to Wal-Mart on a weekend. Or during the week. Or pretty much...ever. Unless you have a death wish or seriously have a lot of time to kill. Like, um, twelve hours. Because that's how long it will take you to check out. For real. And even after you've left the store your soul will still be tainted. #True*

So there I was, smack dab in the epicenter of the evil empire where, in between dodging beef jerky, boot scootin grandmas decked out in half-shirts and jorts... *Or even less*

 

I attempted to avoid the assorted mess of humanity who had already dosed up on Molly and pulled the trigger prematurely on the whole, "Hey, you know what would be amazing right now? Let's dress up, go out and get our rave on!" *At Wal-Mart. On a Sunday afternoon*

 

 

Eventually, having made it through the madness and getting to the front of the checkout line, I now had the privilege of shelling out about thirty bucks for bags of crappy mixed candy like Swedish Fish, Lemonheads and Jolly Rancher lollypops instead of mini Milky Ways and Kit Kat bars. *Sorry, kids but times are tough. Please don't egg my house* Oh, well it could be worse, I could be planning on giving out healthy snacks or something.

Anyway, what I really wanted to share this week was a heartwarming tale of Halloween past. It was only a couple of years ago but it was one of the few times I went full slutty on October 31st. *Scary? You betcha!* Enjoy!

Women use Halloween as a fail safe. A way to show the world what we have been hiding behind our carefully constructed 9 to 5, our professional faces and to do lists. Halloween is the only time of year we can let our inner slut out and not get shamed for it…by other women.

*Cause more than likely they will be dressed up as a pirate whore and won’t give a fuck.*

And I always dress up. Some years are sluttier than others but I always dress up. And sometimes, this makes me *Temporarily* more special than normal and that can be a problem. *For others. Never for me*  As I have previously mentioned *Please see this entire blog for reference* I am not the type of girl that gets all the easy attention. When I walk into the room, I am not the one that is instantly greeted and fawned over. And I’ve learned that some friends prefer me like this. They want to be the ones that steal the thunder and all the boys. In fact, they have gone out of their way to befriend me for this express purpose *I’m not friends with those girls anymore don’t worry *

But on Halloween, I rule and sometimes this is greeted with anger and annoyance by some of my “friends”. I used to have one such frenemy I will call Rachel *Because that is her name* when I was working briefly in Arizona.

We were tight. Super good friends. *Or so I thought* She was five feet nothing, blonde and a former cheerleader. People thought she was an adorable spitfire. *So naturally she was used to getting her way and whoever she wanted.*

 

But she was also *For the most part* down to earth and a lot of fun. One Halloween Rachel threw an epic party. The entire house was decorated, there was way more alcohol than food *Always a great ratio* and most of the population of Phoenix had shown up.   

 

 

*No seriously. These pics are from Arizona. Everyone looks like this there, that's why I had to move away*

 

 

 

I was running late. I was freaking out because I had no idea what to wear. I knew I couldn't compete with the scraps of fabric the other girls were calling  costumes so I finally decided to make up for it with fabulousness. I went as a showgirl in fishnet tights, a corset and lots and lots of glitter.

By the time I finally showed up, the party was in full swing. I walked in and I guess it was the outfit or my "I'm so pissed off because I was running late" attitude but I was instantly given a VIP, gold plated Pretty Girl Discount. Heads turned. Several men asked if I wanted a drink and all the women in the room gave me dirty looks.  *Oooh, spooky*

 

*I couldn’t remember when, if ever, this had ever happened to me. But it was fucking awesome and I loved it!*

Almost instantly a super hot, dirty looking boy with a pierced lip hit on me. Before I could even get liquored up I found myself on the grass in the backyard hooking up with him. *He was an awesome kisser. Plus, I really like hot, dirty looking boys*

 

Eventually, I came inside to take a breather and gather my thoughts *And, let's be honest... gather a large cup of vodka with cranberry juice while I was at it* and that's when I noticed that Rachel was mad. Like really, super angry. At me apparently. When I asked what was going on, she wouldn't say. Just walked away from me like I had poisoned her cat or something.

Then, one by one, all these girls started coming by *Um, Rachel did you send these heifers?!* to talk to me. And they all had the same story. Even though they all were ‘just friends ‘ with the hot, dirty boy it was “Not cool”  that I was hooking up with him. By the way, me and the dirty boy were both definitely single, so this totally did not make sense.

Whatever. I was at a party. This was Halloween. It was supposed to be fun!

But it wasn't fun. It was becoming super uncomfortable. All these girls were throwing shade, Rachel was storming around muttering shit about me and I was all butt hurt because I never get all the attention and was having a moment and Rachel just couldn't let me be great! *Why won't you let me be great Rachel?*

I went back to making out and chatting with the dirty boy  in the backyard but it was becoming increasingly awkward. Being the good friend that I was I decided I would go and try to resolve the issue with Rachel so that Dirty Boy and I could bail and go have some serious fun.

I asked her. Point blank. Do you like this guy? Do you have something going with this dude? She just gave me a chilly look of disapproval and told me, "No. I barely know him." *Ooookay then. What's your deal?* She would not admit to liking him or to being mad. It was like I had violated some super secret tenant of the girl code without realizing it and it was not her job to tell me what I'd done. And then it hit me. She thinks she's prettier than me. And she's pissed that I am getting more attention than her. *And yes, this photo is EXACTLY what her face looked like. EXACTLY*

Wow! Regardless of what passive aggressive potluck she was serving to me, I knew the truth. She was determined that if she was not getting his attention then neither was I. *Ultimate cockblock*

This is how extreme it got. After talking to me, Rachel suddenly freaked out, shut off the music, flipped on the lights and started tearing Halloween decorations off the wall. She yelled, "This party is over people!" It was 10:30pm.

When I went up to her to ask what was wrong *Again. God, sometimes being a girl is just so dang exhausting!* she just gave me a satisfied look and said that she had asked the hot, dirty boy to leave her house so he was gone. She just wanted me to know. *Then she proceeded to tear a heavily duck taped, giant ghost off the wall. With her bare hands.*

Most of the people were bailing the party in droves but there was a small, hearty band of revelers that were not willing to call it a night. *We were totally drunk* So, we kept the party going. Outside. On Rachel's front lawn. *Fuck her* 

I was bummed that the dirty hot boy was forced to leave without saying goodbye to me but eventually, I picked at random a tall muscular guy dressed inexplicably as a Mexican with a giant sombrero *This was Arizona so in frat boy logic I guess he thought he was being ironically funny or something* and went home to his place to have sloppy, drunk sex. *Happy Halloween.*

 

The sex was mostly forgettable *It was totally forgettable. I always forget to add him to my sex list. If I do remember, I usually just add him as ‘The Mexican’ because I don’t remember his name. I don’t think I ever actually knew it.  Oops!*

But I learned something valuable that night. Fake Mexicans aren't necessarily better in bed than real Mexicans and whether we get The Pretty Girl Discount or not, Blondes don't have more fun...Redheads do!

*Hey Rachel, how you like them apples?*

 

 

 

 

 

 

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/ 20/ 13

Sorry this post is going up so late but I had a Home Depot kind of day. You know, just like in the ads? Where a normally docile suburban lady dweller *That would be me* wakes up on a Sunday full of churning desire to improve my entire world in six hours using only the gumption God gave me, an insane, misguided belief in my own abilities and an unlimited line of credit at The Home Depot. "Let's do this", echoed so loudly in the back of my mind I thought I actually could. And so, armed only with my new pink work gloves *So pretty, so clean, so impractical* and old gym shoes, I stomped into the side yard ready to tackle the overgrowth from the last six months.

 This led to meeting my neighbor who bailed me out when she saw me attempt to dig up a tree with a pair of scissors. She's awesome. *So sweet & nice. Plus she grew up on a farm so she had real tools and knew how to use them. Handy.* We spent the next four hours getting to know each other while digging, tilling, pulling, chopping and shoving green stuff into yard bags.

Unlike the ads on TV where the smug couple finish the job in their clean khakis and cashmere pullovers and then sip a delightful mug of chamomile tea and ponder the merits of adopting a third world orphan with what's left of their Sunday *Come on lollypop, we can do it. We've got three whole hours left!* on their newly constructed front porch, I was exhausted.

Yeah, unlike them, my yard work led to me taking a Silkwood shower and passing out on my couch until 7pm at night. *Dead sober. This might be a first*

Did I mention that I never ate breakfast before tackling my yard maintenance? Oops! So,  I was starving when I woke up and decided to start over with the most important meal of the day. At 8 o'clock at night. *It's sad but I pretty much am my own latch key kid*

Which lead me to just posting this now.

*Anyway.* What I really wanted to talk about was Whore-Oween. More specifically, what kind of slut am I gonna be on October 31st?

Because let's face it...men get to be sluts year round but for women there really is just that one special night of the year where we get to go buck wild and pretend that we don't love all the attention. Good girls gone slutty seems to be the trend at every costume shop across America*Blurred lines* I mean, you just try and find a cat, witch or devil outfit that isn't more explicit than a pap smear and I will show you on the map where you are in Canada.

Every costume has to be a slut. Them's the rules. And I intend to stand by it. I too, will be dressed as a slut...Even if I'm just stuck handing out cheap candy to the neighborhood kids. *And scaring the pants off them. Well, only if their over 18. I'm not totally creepy*

But this year, I've been having trouble deciding what exactly I'm gonna be. Get a bunch of paint samples and go as Fifty Shades of Grey? *The Sluttyness is implied*

How about a slutty Sharknado?

 

 

Or Miley. I mean, there's just so much I can do with that. Go as a slutty, twerking Panda? A slutty foam finger? Or a slutty wrecking ball. *Wait. That's redundant. Everyone knows that wrecking balls are already slutty. They will literally bang any building. Even ones in the bad part of town. Ha!*

Later this week, I'm gonna bust out a throwback Halloween story that will blow your socks off but in the meantime...if you've got some suggestions on costumes for me, send them my way. *Seriously. This means you. Please comment on my blog. I don't write in a vacuum. I need constant praise and approval in order to survive. Thanks*

Cause if nobody gives me a better idea...I might just go as The Government Shutdown. I'm gonna dress up as a non-essential employee *Slutty, of course*  so that way, I don't have to spend any money on candy and can use it instead to pay off my Home Depot credit card.

Or wait? What If I just combined it all & just went as The Ho Depot? Now that's a suburban dream I can get behind *And twerk the hell out of it. Take that Hannah Montana!*

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/13/13

 

I've noticed lately that I've turned into one of those people I've always disliked...a complainer. Oh sure, I disguise it with humor and a crackling display of sarcasm but I'm still a grumpy pants. This is mostly what I'm ashamed of...I've lost my sense of joy. Just getting happy about the simple pleasures in life used to be enough when I was a kid or even in my twenties but now that I'm *Sorta, kinda* all grown up...I seem to have lost my way.

So, this week I tried to recapture the magic. I banned all complaining *Which, if you've ever tried it lately is really super hard. Go on, try it for just an hour. I dare you!* and instead embraced getting back to the basics.

I went with a friend and her kids *Awesome, adorable, smart,  funny little people, not annoying in the slightest* to an old timey pumpkin patch. We meandered around pulling a wagon and loading up on gourds. And...it was actually fun! They didn't have a huge amount of pumpkins though due to the drought *Damn you Global Warming after effects* but I kept my mouth shut even though that meant we would have to make another trip to the grocery store to buy pumpkins for carving.  On our way home, we drove thru a nearby farm and the scent of cattle wafting in the air threatened to make me vomit in my mouth a little but I was determined not to break. I simply smiled instead. *And secretly vowed to eat a hamburger when I got home. Revenge meal. It's the circle of life!*

When I got home, I decorated my house with some fabulous Fall flair.

The only thing missing was a pumpkin spice scented candle. Because I might live in the suburbs now, but I still have my standards. No X-mas sweaters for me either. *Seriously? Does everything have to be pumpkin spiced this time of year? Yesterday, I saw a sign for a "Pumpkin Spice Pedicure. Really?* *Dammit! Did I just complain? Shoot!*

I also spent quality time this weekend raking leaves for the first time in my life *Not lazy. I just moved into my first house, remember?* and although, yeah...it wasn't on the same level as say, a frosty cocktail and the latest season of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, I still enjoyed it.  I just put on some cute shorts, a pair of boots and went to work. No complaining allowed.

I raked for hours and in no particular order I also...

Saw a baby bunny rabbit
Killed a spider and decimated numerous webs *I hate spiders. They are the hardest working assholes on the planet*
Waved hello to a bunch of neighbors walking their dog
Chatted with a young girl riding her bike
Got an awesome workout
Threw in some major weeding as well because what the hell, I was already sweaty and gross

and finally, got shit on by a large goose. *Welcome to the neighborhood*

It took everything I had not to complain about that one and I'm so proud that I didn't. However, I might have screamed. Really loudly. *This was the most disgusting thing that has happened to me in a long, long time. It seriously was all over my clothes, hands, etc. Thank God I was wearing a hat*

But back to raking. I don't think I am disposing of my leaves correctly. Everyone else on my block had these special suburban brown paper bags, all neatly stacked at the end of their driveways. I just stuck mine in huge Hefty sacks and left them by the trash. But whatever, the job was done!

*I realize this photo is tilted. I couldn't get it adjusted. It was super frustrating. Not that I'm complaining or anything*

As I  walked inside I checked my phone for messages and noticed that I had a text waiting from an ex. "Hey Girl, what's up?" You know those trolling texts? The ones guys send out hoping that someone who was willing to have sex with them in the past might be desperate enough to somehow be willing to have sex with them again? *Save the planet, recycle*

In the past, I might have entertained the thought *I most likely would have also invited him over and entertained his penis as well. I'm an excellent hostess*  but now I'm too smart. I know that If I want my Pretty Girl Discount and want to be treated right as a woman...I can't act like I'm not worth much. I can't act like all it takes is a text and some superficial sweet talk.

So I deleted the text, refused to spend any energy complaining about what a jackwagon that guy was *Ha! That didn't count* and simply carried on.

And it felt good. It felt like joy.

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/6/2013

I'm getting pretty good at dodging bullets. I mean, I still don't notice when the gun gets loaded or when its pointed directly at my face, but at least now I duck when it goes off. At least now, I don't get shot.  I just have excellent battle stories to tell and this week is no exception.

Online Dating Disaster Number One.

I emailed with this dude *Mr. Marijuana* a couple of times and then we talked on the phone twice. He was highly aggressive, funny as hell and very intense. And although he seemed a tad bit controlling off the bat, he works as a video game designer and I thought we might have a lot in common as I also work in the entertainment industry. If I'm being honest, it was a little troubling that the first time we chatted he admitted he was super high and the second time we talked he was in the middle of a house party and busy drinking himself into oblivion. *Somewhere in the future there is a twelve step meeting waiting for him to show up*

He texted the next day to say he was proud of himself that he hadn't drunk dialed me all night to tell me how much he liked me. *At this point my expectations are so low, I was just relieved that some guy I had never even met before didn't wake me up in the middle of the night.*

We both were pretty busy so we arranged to have a coffee date Thursday afternoon. I was really looking forward to it and went all out curling my hair, slapping on the full face drag and wearing a super cute, casual outfit that didn't scream *Catfish*

When I first approached him at Espresso Royale, *Best latte's evah!*

 I don't think either one of us was very thrilled by each other physically. How could I tell, you ask? Well, he never said one word about how I looked and for my part, he was 6'5 about a buck fifty and pretty unkempt. *Like, no effort whatsoever had been made in the grooming department which included a scraggly, unshaven facial mess, longish fingernails and  dirty jeans* But I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt so I sat down and waited for him to offer to buy me a cup of coffee *Yes please* or a tea or a cookie or something *He never offered*

Instead he launched into a rapid fire monologue about his career and what he wanted to do with his life. *He never asked any questions about me so I tried to add personal info about myself in the brief seconds when he was forced to inhale. I was mildly successful* He also commented about how "pricey" the drinks here were. *Uh-huh*

Suddenly he launched into an insane lecture about the merits of weed. How, "It has no side effects whatsoever" and "Is actually really good for you" and "How he knew what he was talking about because he had done the research" *His friend Justin gets high all the time and told him it was true and so there you have it. Conclusive proof*

When I told him that while I didn't care if people smoked weed *It just isn't my thing but I'm not super judgy about it* however I wasn't going to agree that it was good for you, he tried to convince me I was wrong. When I respectfully suggested that we should agree to disagree, he told me I was uptight and had issues with weed. I kept trying to change the subject over & over but this dude would just not get off his ridiculous obsession with weed. His lecture lasted over thirty minutes.*Thirty minutes!* When he loudly declared that, "Unlike alcohol, nobody has ever killed anyone by driving while high" and I disagreed stating that surely at some point in the history of the world this has actually happened before. He demanded to see my proof.  *Really? Cause I travel with prepared power point presentations just for situations like this, you jack wagon.*

Having finally reached my limit, I just stood up and told him I had to get back to work. Aaaand, that's when he stared yelling and arguing that I should give him more of a chance, that I was wrong for not wanting to date him and it was my fault I didn't like the conversation since I was the one who had such an "issue" with weed.

I told him all I wanted was to get to know him better (and for him to get to know me) and I had no interest in debating the merits of weed. He literally yelled at me that weed, "Is me. It is super important to me, its what I'm passionate about and you should know that. This is getting to know me." *I have learned that you really can't argue with crazy so I just walked quickly to my car and drove away into the sunset.*

*Bullet dodged*

Online Dating Disaster Number Two

Since I was on such a roll, that same night I chatted with another dude I had been emailing online. He was a little reserved *Depressed? Suicidal? Or just polite. Hard to tell really* and was recently out of a relationship *I know, I know* but seemed, by comparison to be relatively sane. So far, so good. However the next night, Friday, he texted me at 8pm asking what I was doing right then and if I wanted to get together. I was already out with friends but told him I could meet up on Saturday night. *I should have known* He texted back "Cool." So, I thought we were on but Saturday night came and went and no sign of Mr. Newly Single. *I'm guessing that he was trying to reintroduce his penis back into the wild and since I wasn't interested in having sex with a guy I had never met before, he moved on to greener, skankier pastures*

At this point, I just thanked God for little favors *Bullet number two dodged* and kept it moving. So, instead of spending my night with yet another dating disaster I settled down with the giant Jenga tower of camp that was Lifetime's, "House of Versace". 

What can I say? The wigs, the terrible, over the top Italian by way of The San Fernando Valley accents, the coked out supermodels sashaying down the runway to bad euro trash beats plus Gina Gershon and Rachel Welch! *Oh, the low budget glamour of it all! * My inner gay man was very, very happy!

So, while I am deeply ashamed that this week I wasted even more of my life on men that have less common decency than a twerk, I will never regret the two hours I spent with the day shift hooker version of Donatella Versace-because it was the most satisfying thing I had all week.