Archive | One Date Wonder RSS feed for this section

Protected: Chaos Theory

10 Oct

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

I’m Chuck Bass

9 Sep

Muffy and Lola, this one’s for you.

I’m Not Dead, Yet

28 May

I just can’t catch a god damned break.  First, the stinking Strep and accompanying fever that makes me sweat like a fat man.  Then I am robbed of the Duran Duran concert.  THEN I’m robbed of my next date with 3D.  Plus there’s nothing to watch on TV.  Nothing.  Not a damned thing.  That’s right, kids.  Guess who’s still stuck at home in bed with a sore freaking throat.  It’s me!  It’s me!

Then, just like a cherry on a tragic sundae (only a different tragic sundae than One Date Wonder wrote about the other day), I get my period.  Early.

Sometimes, it’s just not worth it to crawl out of bed and attempt to make it out of bed.  Perhaps I’ll just roll over and go right back to sleep until tomorrow.

Here’s the only good thing to happen today, Foxy was kind enough to go on a mission and bring my applesauce and gossip rags.  Now I can eat without wanting to weep and I can read all about Britney Spear’s alleged baby bump.  That’s just what girl needs to get her through another craptastic day.

Ugh, I think I have a fever again…

Hey, Girls, Hey

22 May

Dear Newmie and One Date Wonder,

I’m finally free from the confines of my meeting and am ready to put together a proposal for our new delivery service called “Peenies-R-Us”.  Just before sitting down to do that I was going through my blog stats and realized something.  I believe there are several readers that are looking for you based on the search terms that I’m seeing:

  1. cameltoe sightings
  2. she only dates losers
  3. racks and cleavage
  4. high dollar bus stop skank

Just thought you’d want to know.  How they found their way here, I cannot say.  Clearly there’s some sort of strange glitch in wordpress today.

Blogger’s Remorse

18 May

As I was holding my plastic cup filled with beer, shouting over the loud music while watching a bunch of young 20-something year olds try to mate with one another something struck me: I miss the place that shall not be named. 

I blame this predicimant on the blog.  Ergh.  If only I had just kept everything to myself I would probably still be sitting at that bar drinking my 5th cocktail.  Stupid blogger’s remorse!  Yes, it’s true, I regret posting every single word about he who shall not be named and the place that shall not be named and my stupid crush.  If only I could take those words back so that I could have my bar stool back!

Our first attempt at finding a new place to hang out was…interesting.  We started at Lemongrass and had 2 rounds of drinks.  I couldn’t even bring myself to order the cocotini because it reminds me too much of the drink that shall not be named.  Oh sweet, sweet drink!!  How I miss you.  We watched the bartenders make drinks and it just wasn’t the same.  Mainly because there were a bunch of girls behind the bar and they don’t quite do it for me like the bartender that shall not be named.  We paid our tab, and went to Federal Hill.

Ryleighs.  Fabulous food, excellent cocktails, and totally not our scene on a Saturday night.  We shoved our way through the crowd, ordered some beers, and then stood in the corner surveying the scene.  The conclusion?  We missed the other place. 

We quickly finished our beers and I dragged Jane to Maria D’s for some food as my stomach was digesting itself.  Standing in line we met an extremely inebriated young fellow that had spent the day at Preakness, and who had forgotten to wear sunscreen.  Poor 3rd Degree Sunburn.  He was going to be in for a big painful surprise when the hangover and pain of sunburn set in.

As he teetered in line and pretended to be sober, Jane and I looked at one another.  The message was clear: this would never happen at the place that shall not be named.  3rd Degree Sunburn chatted us up and then “accidentally” grabbed my boobs.  It was awesome.  Just as we thought we had escaped his oh-so-silky-smooth advances, he invited himself to sit at or table.  The 20 minutes that followed were painfully awkward (for him) and very amusing to Jane and to me.  We attempted to inhale our food so as not to prolong the drunken ramblings.  It was painful.  We really tried not to laugh at him, but it was hard not to.  Especially when he started telling us about a restaurant in Orange County, CA with the most authentic Mexican food ever. 

Next weekend will be better.  I have other places in mind for us to try.  There will be no bar fights this time, and no 3rd Degree Sunburns for us to attempt to avoid.  Just some booze, and maybe the right replacement for the place that shall not be named.  Oh god I hope he can find it, because the temptation to go back there is killing me.

Fill ‘Er Up

17 May

I can picture it sitting there in front of me, just out of reach.  There are beads of sweat on the glass, and the black straw is calling to me.  I can see all the herbs floating in glass, mixed in with the pulp from the freshly squeezed lime juice and topped off with some ginger beer.  Here’s the hardest part, the drinks that I really want, the really delicious and fabulous ones, I cannot have.  Not ever again. 

I could weep for the sadness I feel about being torn away from my delicious booze.  Oh the desperation!!  Sadly, I shall never again be going to the place that shall not be named.  Here’s the good news: I watched them make the drink so many times that I could do it myself-but it’s so much better when someone makes it for you.

Newmie, One Date Wonder and I are on a mission (and we’re wishin’ someone would cure our lonely condition).  Our mission is to find the perfect cocktail served by the hottest barman.  This time, I’m only going to look at the barman and the only conversation we’ll have will consist of what I want to drink and the cost of said drink.  No flirting.  No chatting.  No having crushes on them.  And definitely no talking to any owners.  From here on out, I shall be an anonymous customer who drinks their booze and takes up real estate in the form of a stool at the bar. 

You know you have a problem when you’ve just rolled out of bed and you’re already wondering what kind of booze you’ll be consuming later in the evening.  That’s it!  I’m totally going to go on a drinking hiatus, but not until after Memorial Day. 

Protected: SWF iso SWM

8 May

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Protected: 6 Flags

3 May

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below: