Archive | July, 2007

An American Tragedy

16 Jul

Something so horrible happened on Saturday. I’m still reeling from the events which I am about to write down. It was an accident, but one of the most devastating that I have ever witnessed in my life. My family and I were at Wegmans doing our grocery shopping and having some lunch. On our way out, I was carrying my niece, and my sister was responsible for carrying my things. She put my coke bottle into my Michael Kors handbag-without checking to see if the bottle cap had been screwed on all the way. Half the bottle of soda emptied into poor, defenseless Michael Kors before I realized what was happening.

I went to put some things into my bag and realized that the inside of the bag was wet. As I began cursing at my sister-in front of everyone at Wegmans-and cleaning out the bag with napkins, I realized that something horrible was happening: the soda was soaking through the leather. The tears started welling in my eyes as I turned and shouted, “It’s soaking through the fucking leather!” Everyone began grabbing napkins and dabbing at the mess. My heart sank when I looked at the napkins and realized that the beautiful color of the leather was bleeding onto the napkins. It was not a pretty sight to behold. I was so upset that I had to step outside and go for a little walk on my own.

I text messaged Muffy, and she called me right away. The pep talk made me feel much better. She reminded me that “Michael Kors is an American Icon, and is resilient,” and that he’d pull through. I pulled myself together, and went back inside.

Upon my return, we decided to take drastic measures: back to Nordstrom to see if they could help. Sadly, they did less than nothing. My mother-the doctor-had to intervene. When we got back to her house, she took matters into her hands. It was a late night for her as she treated Michael Kors hoping to minimize the scarring. The results were better than I expected, however, the soda marks are still visible. This week, he’ll be going through a 2nd round of treatments in hopes of minimizing the scars.

Please pray for the speedy recovery of my Michael Kors handbag. These are trying times for all of us.

An Important Public Service Announcement

12 Jul

When you’re drunk and trying to hit on a classy, sophisticated, educated woman who is sober, it behooves you to not talk about philosophy. It’s a dead give away that you don’t know what you’re talking about when you start mentioning Aristocrates. It’s Aristotle and Socrates, dumb shit.

Thank you, and have a pleasant and polite day.

Blind Item

12 Jul

Boys and girls, I have a superb little tale to tell you today. It’s all about infidelity and consequences. There’s drama, it’s messed up, and you’re going to love it. I have a friend that was dating a girl (we’ll call her Poor Soul). Poor Soul and this friend had been together for a few weeks, when Poor Souls married friend started hitting on my friend. Being the weak ass fool that he is, he decided it would be a good idea to sleep with this married woman. You see, he had never been with a married woman before, and he has a big fat problem saying no. According to him, Married Chick was all over him, and wouldn’t stop propositioning him. He figured no one would ever know, and it was the chance of a lifetime. He took the chance as he’s part dog. The condom broke.

Three days later he was at a party with Poor Soul. Guess who happened to show up? Married Chick with her husband. They all hung out together and pretended things were hunky dorry.

This all happened about 3 weeks ago. On Tuesday, he got a text message from Married Chick asking him whether or not he had. . .ahem. . .finished inside her. He said he had not. Yesterday, he got a phone call from her. You guessed it boys and girls, she’s pregnant. She’s also moving to another state in 2 weeks and told him not to worry about it as she thinks it’s her husbands.

My guess is that he’ll be hearing from her pretty soon claiming that maybe it’s his after all.

DRAMA!! My friend is a baby daddy!!

Protected: Stalk Much?

11 Jul

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. . .and Brimstone

10 Jul

First there was fire (drill) and soon there will be hail. They’re calling for hail the size of quarters up around these parts. This bites because it guarantees that my power will be knocked out yet again. That will be the 4th fucking time this year.

Why? Why must my neighborhood have such tall trees that find it amusing to land on powerlines? WHY?? It’s too hot to be dealing with that type of nonsense and I’m still tired from this weekend. Can’t I just go home and take a little nap? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! I have to go home and worry about the upcoming power outage.

Stupid BGE, I hate you.


10 Jul
Several years ago, someone talked me into being the fire captain for the first floor of my building. When there’s a fire drill at work, I’m on! My exciting responsibilities include standing by the stairwell while people leave the building. If they have a drink in their hands, I have to confiscate it-this all takes place while I’m trying to stop my ears from bleeding as a result of the deafening fire alarm. Oh, and I have to wear a cheesy ass hat while I’m doing this. So uncool. Then, I have to go outside and yell at everyone to stay inside the parking garage.

Rumor has it we’re having a fire drill any minute. My moment of glory awaits.

UPDATE: So I missed the whole debacle because I was at the gym. I did, however, wanted to share a picture of the beautiful hat that I didn’t have to wear.

The Details

9 Jul

A few of you have asked for details from the Saturday night “festivities”. I’ll provide you with the short and sweet version, and the longer much less sweet version.  Please enjoy. . .

Short and Sweet

We were both drunk, we started hooking up at the bar and moved it over to my room. I served him up a Bartles & Jaymes, he reciprocated. We hit it and it was superb. Sadly, there was no cookie. He slept over, I kicked him out at 8:30. We met up with friends for brunch around noon. Said our goodbyes shortly thereafter, and the story ends there.

Long and Dirty

It’s been a few months since I last saw Notebook as he’s moved to another state. Somehow, he talked me into picking him up at the airport. We met at the terminal, and my God, that boy has a sweet ass body. He was wearing a polo shirt that hugged him in all the right places. Yummy! I was hoping beyond hope that we’d end up hooking up at some point, but was pretty sure that it wasn’t going to happen. We drove to the hotel, ran into the groomsmen and groom, met up with some friends, grabbed a bite to eat and then checked into our rooms. We had about ½ an hour to get ready and report back to the lobby for the shuttle that would take us to the wedding location.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all back in the lobby. The wedding was held in this gorgeous Hunt club out in the country, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a lot of old people. This meant one thing: there were less eligible bachelorettes available to him. Unfortunately, it also meant that there would be less options for me if things didn’t pan out with Notebook. We sat together through the service (which was the most beautiful ceremony I’ve ever seen), attended the cocktail hour and then went to our table.Much to my chagrin, I realized that there were 3 other ladies sitting at our table. I was clever in my seating arrangement as I had him sit between me and our guy friend that was there-less access to the bachelorettes. When they came to the table, I realized it was all for nothing-not cute. Reception was a great time, the alcohol flowed freely, there was plenty of flirting, and zero opportunity for him to flirt with anyone else. There was, however, plenty of opportunity for me to make friends with the tall, dark, and handsome groomsman from New York.

New York was handsome, and I was warned about him. The best man and the groom himself told me he was a dog. Guess what? Dogs work pretty well for a hook up, especially ones that are as tall, dark, and handsome as New York was. Things seemed to be working out pretty well, and I took it as a good sign when the wedding party left before we did, and New York told me he’d meet me back at the hotel bar. This led me to believe that I had acquired my target for the evening.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all at the bar. Some people have changed, I’m still in my kick ass dress and my gorgeous heals. I kept going back and forth between New York and Notebook. As I began complaining about how painful my shoes were, New York suggested that I run back to my room to change my shoes. My room was conveniently located down the hall from the bar-I didn’t even have to bother with the elevator. Ran to my room, ran back, handed my room key to Notebook as I had left my purse in my room, New York bought me a drink, we flirted some, then New York excused himself to run to the men’s room. At this point, I went to talk to Notebook who was sitting at the bar. He said, “come here,” grabbed the back of my head, and we started making out at the bar. Klassy. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me that New York would probably not want to hook up with me if he saw me making out with Notebook at the bar. Drunken thoughts are funny to me.

As last call had occurred, the lights had been turned on, and management had decided it was time for us to leave, Notebook was kind enough to escort me back to my room. How very convenient that he had my room key (god I’m so smart and clever sometimes). We went into the room, I turned on the lamp next to the bed, sat on the king sized bed, and he sat down next to me. We started to snog some more. Suddenly, we were horizontal.

For about 30 seconds I questioned how far I was going to let him get. Then I thought, “Fuck it. Why not just go all the way?” My dress was soon lifted, lowered and crushed between us. He had a belt that required in-depth training to figure out how to remove. He was down to nothing in about a half an hour. I was down to almost nothing shortly thereafter. I provided a synopsis of events in the Short and Sweet version, all two of you that were interested in knowing what happened will have to be satisfied with that.

We hooked up 2 years ago and I had thought that he’d be a good shag. That’s an understatement. He was superb. Why? God only knows. I think it’s a combination of factors: he’s smoking hot, we have great chemistry, he knows what he’s doing and I had wanted him for a long time. Granted, sometimes that leads to disappointment, but not in this case-he far exceeded my expectations.

After it was all said and done with, I planned on kicking him out of my room. I’m not the type that likes to have sleepovers with hook ups. For me, it’s much easier to establish boundaries when we don’t snuggle up afterwards. My usual way of getting them to get dressed and go home is by using this wonderful line: I’ll be asleep by the time that you get home. They usually get the message, and call it a night. Unfortunately, this didn’t work out on Saturday. When I came out of the bathroom, he was already tucked in under the covers. Damn him! I sucked it up and let him sleep in the bed with me.

I woke a few times and was so delighted with myself when I turned to see his naked form sleeping next to me. Truly a beautiful site to behold. Seriously, he has a kick ass body. Kick ass. Ugh, I’m so proud of myself for getting to see it in all it’s glory. Go me!! I woke up at 6:30 with a crushing headache and my stomach churning. Went back to sleep until 7:00. I started rolling around in the bed and sighing out loud in hopes that he’d wake up and leave. It didn’t work. I got up to take a shower at 8:00 and prayed that I wouldn’t get sick while he was room. I woke his ass up around 8:15 and told him that if he wanted to sleep anymore, he’d have to go up to his room. He left. 20 minutes later, I puked. So hot. . .Thank freaking god that he wasn’t there for that. THANK GOD!!

We met up for brunch at noon with our other friends. I mentioned nothing to them, and figured he would do the same. He started asking me questions that I figured they would find suspicious: What did you do after I left? Did you go back to sleep? Guess we weren’t keeping it a secret like I thought we would. Oh well. When it was time to go, he walked me to my car, kissed me, and we said good bye.

I guarantee that I will never see him again, and if I do, there will never be any mention of Saturday night. I’m okay with that. I’m just wicked super psyched and pleased that I finally got to see him naked and it was everything that I imagined and hoped it would be.

Go me!

Another Conversation Between You & Me

9 Jul

You: So how was the wedding this weekend?
Me: It was such a blast! The only thing that would have made it better was if I had avoided the hangover on Sunday morning.
You: Did you wake up with the cocktail flu and wrapped around the toilet?
Me: Not quite. I did, however, consider throwing myself out my hotel window in hopes of ending the pain and misery. Sadly, I was on the first floor so it wouldn’t have done much good.
You: That’s klassy, Boozy Suzy. How much did you drink?
Me: Oh, let’s see: a beer, 2 glasses of wine, a glass of champagne, and several gin and tonics.
You: That’s not that bad if you spaced it out.
Me: Guess it was the ½ a car bomb at 1:00 in the morning that threw me over the edge. Plus the gin and tonic I had after that.
You: I see. That’s a stupid move, Catherinette.
Me: Yes, yes it is.
You: Any hotties at the wedding?
Me: There were some fine looking gentlemen there. One of the groomsmen, Tall Guy, was mighty fine and flirty, and Notebook was looking pretty fine-as usual.
You: I thought you said Notebook was gay?
Me: Yeah, well, we didn’t seem so gay when he was crawling on top of me in my hotel room.
You: Well played, Catherinette. I guess you “straightened” him out.
Me: BWAHAHAHA!! Straightened him out! That’s a good one.