Meeting? What meeting?

19 Aug

You know who should be punched in the mouth?  People who schedule 5:00 PM meetings on a Tuesday afternoon.  People who make you drive to an entirely different location so you can meet them, and then cancel the meeting 10 minutes after you have arrived only they’ve neglected to tell you or the three other people who have shown up to the meeting.  In fact, they decide to only tell one person that instead they’ll push it back to September.

Such people should be punched in their mouths.

Fuck you, I say.  Fuck you in your stupid face.

On the bright side, this was the first meeting in my new capacity and I had zero fucking clue what I was doing.  Met a few new dudes, one of them who has been immediately added to the secret boyfriend list, the other who is very funny and is now telling people I’ve served a small prison sentence.  Good times, good times.

But still, fuck that other person in her stupid face.

Monica Lewinsky isn’t the only one who can rock a blue dress

18 Aug

Six months.  Six blissful months in Australia and now I have returned to ‘Merica.  Yes, I saw kangaroos, and koalas.  No, I did not meet Crocodile Dundee, or make shrimp on the barbie.  Yes, I met someone.  No, it won’t last forever.  Yes, I made out with him outside my hotel.  No, I did not touch his penis.  Yes, I had secret boyfriends.  No, I did not ruin any marriages.

So back to work and back to boring old sex-less life in the USA.

[insert sad trombone music here]

Really the only good thing about being back is I’m reunited with one of my secret boyfriends.  So secret he doesn’t know about it.  And happily married.  Of course he is.  Because every dude I meet is either married, a douche bag, married and a douche bag, or single for some reason other than being a douche bag.  Anyway, so Bow Tie was sitting in my cubicle today and had just finished explaining to me why he doesn’t wear a wedding ring (it’s not because he cheats), when he blurted out, “Where’s Kate Spade?”

Not a question you hear everyday from a straight dude.

“This, Kate Spade?” I asked him while showing him my bag.  “No, the blue dress,” he responded.

Ah, yes.  The blue dress.  The blue dress I purchased last October before heading off to Europe for a month.  The blue Kate Spade dress that I got an excellent deal on.  The blue dress that sucks everything in and makes me look hot.  The one he commented on every time he saw me in it.

“That’s a winter dress.  It’s wool.  I can’t wear it in summer time.”  People, that’s a lie.  It’s not so much that I can’t wear it in summer.  It’s that I can’t wear if I want to zip the thing because I gained (no joke) 20 pounds in Australia and went up 2 dress sizes since I bought it.

Fuck.

FUCK!

I have two months to lose 20 pounds so I can fit back into that damned blue fucking dress.

Bye bye french fries, and chips, and cupcakes, and wine every night, and fried foods, and chocolates, and lollies, and pasta dishes, and 4 lattes a day, and Jesus no wonder I’m so fat.

American Girls are Stupid Sluts

28 Jan

My poor, poor inner thighs are chafed from walking all over town yesterday in the hot hot heat.  Clear sign that my fatness is getting in my way of a good time.  The only thing that seems to help is taking the cookie I’m about to eat and rubbing it on my inner thighs before popping it in my mouth.  I was out half the day with that friend of a friend who I wrote about yesterday.  There is only one word to describe her: skank.

“Have you ever done drugs before?”  This is what she asked me within an hour of meeting her.  “Not really my scene,” I told her.  Which is totally true. We were sitting in a window seat at this cute little cafe.  Me feeling fat, her dressed like she had just come in from a run, and her “friend” who hadn’t been home since the night before and was nursing a terrible hangover.  That’s when she announced to me that she had tried drugs for the first time the night before.  I thought to myself, “ah, how cute, she smoked a joint for her first time.”  That’s when she leans over to her “friend” from last night and asks, “what was it I had?”  My jaw about hit the floor when I heard him say, “cocaine and MDMA.”  Seriously?  You’ve never tried drugs in your life and you go for that heavy shit?  What the fuck is wrong with you??

Know what the really fucked up part was (as if that wasn’t fucked up enough), she got the drugs from complete strangers.

Um, really?  You took drugs from strangers?  Are you kidding me right now?  Second, you’re now telling a complete stranger (me) about this?  What the fuck is wrong with you?  It was at that moment that I realized that she was a complete fucking idiot.  Yes, I somewhat suspected it when she introduced me to her Aussie friend who had beautiful blue-green eyes and smelled like last night’s whiskey.  And maybe my suspicious were heightened when she told me that they’d only slept an hour because they’d been out partying last night.  But who am I to judge (other than the world’s judge-iest of judgers)?  Young people today like to party.  He was 24, she apparently had just turned 30.  There’s a big fucking difference between 40 and 30 – and that lifestyle is just not for me.

So there she is telling me about her experience with drugs while I’m thinking “when can I leave.”  When the dude went off to the bathroom she then announces to me that they made out the night before, they ended up naked together, and he had wanted to go down on her but she kept telling him no.  You see, she had zero desire in hooking up with him, and had her period.  But did she tell him?  Nope.  She just went ahead and kept making out with him.  Whatever.  Then she said, “it’s not like I even flirt with him, I don’t know why he thinks I’d hook up with him.”

Um, really?  Maybe he thinks that because you took drug with strangers, took your clothes off and rubbed your buddy all over his, and then kept your hand on his thigh the entire time we were at lunch.  I’m thinking that sends a pretty strong signal.

Instead of coming up with a really creative excuse, like I had just developed the bubonic plague or I had to get home in time to feed my pet koala, I agreed to drinks at a few rooftop bars.  Why?  Why did I agree to this?  Mainly because I’m part idiot on my dad’s side.  So off we go to a few bars, and at the second one she strikes up a conversation with a few dudes.  Hot.  These dudes were hot.  Let me remind you that she hasn’t showered, probably is coated in the semen of the guy who we were with, and has only slept an hour.  Know what ends up happening?  We all end up at a table together.

About an hour in I ditched them to come home and hang out in my apartment, detox from her skankiness, and shower off the dirty.  Later that night she messages me that she made out with a guy that she met that afternoon in front of the dude she hooked up with last night.

No fucking wonder that everyone in the world thinks American girls are stupid sluts.

Fat is as Fat Does

26 Jan

I’m a whale.  I’m a hippo.  I’m a pig.  I’m a whale.  These are the things going through my head as I stand in front of the mirror wondering where on earth these cankles came from.

First official day in Australia, it’s perfect summer weather, and all I see is pasty white blubber.  These next six months are going to be AMAZING!

I have a friend of a friend in town who I’m supposed to meet up with today.  Have never met her, we’ve just exchanged a few emails, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.  When I first agreed to meet up with her, I immediately sent her a facebook friend request and started stalking her.  I was hoping for someone who wasn’t model hot so I wouldn’t feel like such a fast ass.  Just a normal looking girl, though definitely fitter than I am.

We’ve decided on going down to St. Kilda, down on the water.  “Swim suits?” she asked.  Flash of me standing on the beach blinding everyone with my fat thighs.  Lied that I left my suit at home.

“Should we run or power walk?  Should I wear gym clothes? “she asks.  First of all HA!  Second of all HAHA!  Me?  Power walk or run??  Is there a zombie apocolaypse?  Because if there isn’t, I’m not doing it.  Oh, and also, its upward of 90 degrees today, I’ll sweat just from breathing – my heart would stop if I ran.  My response? “Haha. Yeah, no. I’m the biggest slacker EVER. For reals. Go casual.”

Know whats’ funny?  To get rid of the whale/hippo/pig/whale thing, I should run or power walk.  Maybe I’ll just have a cookie to take my mind off of this.

The allure of Mexican Food

14 Jan

We Mexicans are known for many things, primarily our incredible ability to:

  • clean hotel rooms
  • take care of the homes of white people
  • sell drugs
  • landscape
  • pick strawberries
  • do the jobs “the man” thinks he’s too good for

Perhaps the most important thing though, is our ability to make some delicious food.  Food so delicious that you find yourself taking far too many bites and leaving the table cursing the people of my country for tempting you with such amazing flavors.  Come on, you know I’m right here.  When was the last time you were eating some chips and guac and thought, “I’ve had too many,” before polishing off the entire basket of chips and agreeing when the waiter says, “do you want more chips?”  We’ve all been there.

Frankly, it’s amazing that Mexicans aren’t fatter.  Sure, we’re working our way up the obesity ladder, but we blame that shit on fast food McDonald’s style.  Trust me – eating 4 tacos at lunch will not do the same thing to your hips as eating a Big Mac, large fries, and a coke.  Plus a bowl full of salsa is certainly not as bad for you as an entire bowl of cheese dip.  Now when we get to nachos and burrito bowls, that’s a different story.  Then again, nachos and burrito bowls are actually American inventions. This may come as a shock to you, but Taco Bell is not authentic Mexican food – there is no such thing as the chimichanga in Mexico.  Nor Mexican pizza.  That shit is…well…just that, shit.

I speak from experience here.

Of Fog and Bacon

11 Jan

Apparently we’re going through some strange ass weather patterns right now.  The fog that has settled over the town looks like something out of a Stephen King novel.  I’m waiting for Jack Nicholson to jump out at me or little Danny Torrance to start wagging his finger at me while yelling, “REDRUM!”  What the fuck, Mother Nature?  For reals.

Also, I want bacon.

And I put on one too many spritzes of perfume this morning and I’m giving myself a headache. On the bright side, if I get lost in the fog then people will be able to hunt for me just by smelling for the rose perfume I’m currently drowning in.  Though I guess if it’s the zombie apocalypse then I’m going to die because the zombies are going to be able to find me much sooner.

I’m not dead yet

10 Jan

Bet you thought I was gone forever, didn’t you?  Not quite – more of a hiatus.  You see, it’s weird how a personal photo of yours can end up on social media somewhere and anyone of your friends who knows you in real life but not on the interwebs could very easily make a connection that you’ve got this secret little writing gig.  So perhaps a self imposed holiday from the blogosphere is best.  But it’s been long enough and I have returned for random ramblings!

I could tell you that I have a serious beau and we’re getting ready to move in.  That he’s an absolute dreamboat and everything I ever dreamed of.  Or that maybe one night in a drunken stupor I called 3D and we knocked boots until dawn.  Or maybe that some failed judgement led to a night of debauchery with a coworker.  I could tell you all of those things, but they’d be down right lies.

But here’s what I can tell you that is not a lie: I’m leaving on a jet plane to Australia in two weeks.  In two weeks for six months.  That’s right, friends, I’m taking my shenanigans on the road and planning on making out with at least one Aussie with a dreamy accent.  Actually, I already have an eye on someone.  It just so happens that I have this coworker who is hotter than fuck and the heavens have aligned to make it so he and I will be sitting right next to one another.

Blond.  Blue eyes.  Accent.  Hot bod.  Why can’t he just be mine?

We’ll see what happens…

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