Archive | May, 2015

What Would McNulty Do?

31 May

I’ll admit, I’m often late to the game.  In the case of “The Wire” – the greatest television show of all time – I was about 7 years late.  Had I watched it while it was actually filming/airing then perhaps I’d be writing this post while Stringer-Bell (Idris Elba) was laying naked beside me.  Because obviously I would have been stalking him all over the city and somehow blackmailed him into dating me.  Which totally would have been possible because I was far younger then than I am now.

My friends who have never visited Baltimore and who have watched the show imagine that everything that happened on the show is pretty much reality.  And it would be a lie if I told you I didn’t feed into their vision of what the city actually looks like.  When I was living in Australia last year, I had a number of friends asked me what life was like in the ghetto and if I lived anywhere near Marlo’s hangout or the Pit.

Yesterday, Martin O’Malley, who was the inspiration for Carcetti announced a bid for the White House.  I wonder what David Simon would have done with that nugget if the show was still airing.  I wonder how he would have depicted the Baltimore riots that broke out a weeks ago.  And I wonder if he would have taken my phone call when I called to tell him about the heroin addict that lives next door to my mom.

She moved in a few months ago, and has been nothing but trouble for since then.  When my mom mentioned to her that she should clean up after her dog, she yelled a string of obscenities to her – not caring that my niece was standing next to my mother.  When a friend of hers parked in a spot that wasn’t hers, my other neighbor told him he couldn’t park there.  The guy got out of the car, flipped her the finger, and left his car there for hours.  The yards are littered with beer cans, the lawn hasn’t been mowed in forever, and the garbage just accumulates outside the house.

About a week ago a dude in a white Mercedes pulled up and approached my mom and one of the nice neighbors.  According to my mom he was high as a kite.  He proceeded to apologize for the behavior of the young man who had illegally parked, and then told them how the guy had been a drug runner for him, and that he was the distributor.  He then spilled the beans about how the neighbor was a heroine addict and that he had been selling to her for years.

Insert open mouths and blank stares here.

Of course my mom and the cool neighbors have complained to the home owners association and she’s being evicted.  She was supposed to vacate the property last week.  She’s not moving.  I’m waiting for McNulty to show up and drag her out.  Sometimes I wonder if the white Mercedes is going to be parked there when I visit my mom and I’m so tempted to ask one zillion million questions.

My first question, of course, would be, “who do you think the bigger bad ass was: Marlo or Omar?”  Inquiring minds want to know.

A short-lived romance

29 May

Friends.  Family.  Strangers.  Everyone else.  Sad news to report.  Very sad news.  My secret imaginary romance with that dreamy dreamboat with bedroom green eyes is over.

Done.

History.

Dead.

Tragedy has stricken in the form of him COMPLETELY ignoring me.  And trust me, that is HARD – especially when I’m going back and forth near where he works talking to pretty much everyone except for him.  He didn’t pop up from his desk once to say hello.  Bastard.  Three days and zero visits, contacts, stolen glances, groping, etc. The writing is all over the wall – Banksy style.  And those words read, “not gonna happen.”

Fuck him in his stupid face.

I hope he gets an ingrown hair near his anus and then it gets infected.

Thankfully, I’m not a drama queen about it.  I’m a mature 41 year-old woman.  I don’t have time for this.

Should I?

28 May

Okay, so on a scale of 1 to creepy how weird would it be if I sent my secret boyfriend with the bedroom green eyes, and the chiseled jaw, and strong hands, and quiet demeanor this video?

Yes?

No?

Ugh.  I hate myself.

Mending a Broken Heart

27 May

I’m typing this with Flamin’ Hot Cheeto-dusted finger tips.  Life is hard.  Relationships are HARD.  Especially when they’re imaginary relationships with secret boyfriends who are busy dating other people because they don’t realize that they’re in a relationship with you.  Ugh, I freaking swear.  How hard is it to get a little attention from your secret boyfriend??

So as I wrote earlier he’s off on a date – probably with the woman of his dreams – while I’m busy on the couch dissecting EVERY SINGLE interaction we’ve ever had to see if I can determine what it all means??

Last night I may or may not have sent him a message on Facebook.  And then I may or may not have checked Facebook every 15 minutes for like ALL NIGHT waiting for his response.  And did he?  No, he did not.  And did he read it?  Yes, he did, approximately 20 minutes after I sent it.  WTF?  I mean, I know hard to get and all, but seriously?  This is bad, right?  This means we’re breaking up, right?

Listen, living life as a 15 year old angsty insecure teenager in the body of a 34* year old woman is totally getting old.  I think life was just easier when I didn’t have a crush on someone who is young enough to be my son (assuming I got pregnant when I was 11), and was busy catching up on all the “Game of Thrones” seasons (Hodor).  But, no!  I just had to start talking to this hunky dreamboat with green eyes and now I’m torturing myself.

This morning I went running to a friend of mine to tell him EVERYTHING.  He was super ecstatic and informed that this dreamy dreamboat with the green eyes was totally interested in getting in my knickers.  He was, however, playing the LONG game.  Apparently, the reason that he didn’t respond to my Facebook message is that he doesn’t want to seem to eager (bullshit).  And also, apparently, the ball is in his court.

Fuck his ball.

And fuck his court.

But also, I totally hope he stops by tomorrow and tells me how horrible his date was and that he totally wants me and then he touches my boob.  That could happen, right?  Or, you know what’s probably going to happen, because this is what happened the last time I really liked someone?  He’s totally going to hit it off with her, then in 2 years they’ll be engaged, and in 3 they’ll be married, and she’ll be pregnant.

And I’ll still be sitting on this couch eating Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and wondering why I’m still single.

*Or 41, whatever.

First Date Jitters

27 May

Big night tonight.  HUGE!  First date.  Yup.  That’s right.  My secret boyfriend has a date…with someone who isn’t me.

Yesterday when he stopped by to visit he confessed that he’s dipping his toe back into the black waters of online dating.  Sunday’s date didn’t go so well – that’s what happens when you post pictures of yourself from 3 years ago, and you happen to gain 40 pounds.  She was a no go.  Yet he seemed optimistic that his next date would go better.

Said date happens to be tonight.  It’s kind of awkward to tell him that I hope he has an absolute shitty date, but I hope he does.  Why?  Because I totes want him for myself.  I know myself well enough that all night I’ll be picturing him with some foxy young hotty having the time of his life.  He’ll be off with this blonde bombshell while I sit on the couch watching reruns of Dateline and eating my feelings in the form of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

Ugh, I hate it when my secret boyfriends are dating other people.

Light the Spark

26 May

Light it up, people.  Light.  It. Up!!

What the fuck does that even mean?  I don’t know.  Who cares??  Because you know why?  You know why??  Because my DREAMY secret boyfriend with the bedroom green eyes came to visit me at my desk today.

I mean, yeah, whatever, he may have actually been stopping by to see someone else and then just popped over to say hello, but whatever!!  AND he confessed to stalking me on Facebook.  That happened.  He just mentioned a picture that I posted in October of 2014.  Um, hello, we’ve only been Facebook friends for like a month.  You know what this means, right?  It means he wants in my knickers!!

And you know what else??  He is single!!  And employed!!  And have I mentioned how dreamy his green eyes are??

So what if he’s a little bit younger than I am.  In the grand scheme of things 11 years isn’t that big of a difference.  I mean, sure, he was 10 years old when I graduated from college.  But, you know, whatever.  He has a penis, I have somewhere for him to put it.  It’s like a match made in heaven.

And who cares if like technically it would be sexual harassment if I asked him out since I’m considered “senior” and he’s very (very) “junior”.  We don’t need to tell anyone about it, right?  RIGHT!!

The writing is on the wall, people.  We all know exactly what’s going to happen next – I’m going to pursue him LIKE MAD (but not really, more like I’ll just kind of happen to cross paths with him as often as possible), and then he’ll start dating someone and I’ll end up alone on my couch with a pint of ice cream and my fat pants.