TMI Thursday: I am not a certified Gynecologist, but I play one on TV.

Yay. It's my favorite day of the week - thanks to Lilu. Probably because just like everyone else, some of the most ridiculous things happen in my life. So, prepare to gag or laugh. And do join in and humiliate yourself. It's the thing to do nowadays, in case you didn't get the memo.


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Long ago when I had first graduated High School, I had decided that I wanted to hit the high road. Leave the stupid state of Maryland and venture on to a more exciting world. The likes of Florida suited me best, or at least I thought. So, when I turned 18 and was packing up to move - I had just gotten accepted to the University of Tampa - I was fucking excited. I thought I might actually pee myself. And I thought, yes, 3 girls - I'll definitely have friends! Because I was stuck in a Quad. And well, I guess I never did realize that colleges LIE about putting you with people that best fit your personality, etc. But I guess they tried.

A week in living in Florida - I hated it. My three other rooommates were nut cases. One was an alcoholic (like, a legitimate one. At 19 she was already in AA, twice, and relapsed - twice.) The other was a drug addict (Of course, pot was her choice. She said it got her through the day. Coke was only to party. What?) and Well, the third one was a small town girl from Nebraska who pretty much fucked anything that walked. Vagina, Penis, Both? She wanted you. She had you. It was just like that. Oh, did I mention she was engaged? And her fiance was fucking crazy? Mmh. Gosh, I was hating my life.

On a Wednsday night, while normal people were sleeping, my Nebraska roommate drunkingly wakes me up. Or really, she shoves me until I open my eyes and look at her bewildered. I was confused. Extremely confused. And she was drunk, and scared. And then she says something to me, that to this day, I still wonder - wtf?


"Jess. I'm so trashed. And I had sex with Richie. And the condom slipped off. And now its stuck in my va-jay. Please get it out."

I blinked twice and told her to go to bed. And she was not letting up. "NO IM BEING SERIOUS. IT'S STUCK IN THERE. I NEED YOU TO GET IT OUT." And then she starts crying. Saying that she MUST get it out because of Fiance was flying down to visit the next day, and what if he were to find it in her? Then what? Ah. And from living with her, and having met him before. I believe he could kill a man with his bare hands. So, I did what any solid, faithful roommate would have done. I played gyencologist for the night.

Before you judge, I felt bad - okay!? I didn't know what else to do with her. She was crying and sounded scared, and if you ever met her Fiance. HE'S A SCARY GUY! And well, I look back at this moment now and I wish I had been more clever and come up with a better idea, but I hadn't. It happened. And well, now it's a good story - right? Right. OKAY!!

3am on a Wednsday night, We venture to the 24 hours CVS. Grab some chopsticks (to get that sucker) and gloves (cause I wasn't touching ANYTHING with my bare hands) And some hand sanitizer. Oh, and you think I was going to go at this alone? No sir. I woke up my two other roommates and like a team we went on this mission. And this mission brought us a hell of a lot closer together. One held her legs up, the other a flash light, and I went in for the kill. 5 minutes later, a lot of going in and out of another females vagina - tons of giggling. There she was, in my hand, this girls used condom. And then I hopped in the shower and scrubbed myself until my skin felt raw.

And you know what? I ended up withdrawing from that ridiculous school during winter break and transferred the next semester. I never did come to find out what happened to those crazy girls, or if she ever did get another condom stuck in her. But I do hope that I got some big brownie points with the man upstairs. I'm just sayin'.

Well, look what the dog dragged in.

Spring is a-comin' and although the weather is less than perfect, I still get excited every so often to walk my dog. And I get even more excited that I don't have to put on ridiculous Paw-Tectors on her. And SHE gets even more excited because well... I take her on longer walks. Lets face it, folks. No one wants to brave the cold. I sure as hell don't. So, the walks are short. I'm sorry, Cassie. I love you anyway.

Anyhoodles, Today I was feeling ESPECIALLY nice and woke up relatively early, which means an even LONGER walk. Around the neighborhood, down the street and too many miles later. We are headed home. Stopping to sniff a lot, pee a little here, poop there. You know the deal. It's never different, but exciting nonetheless. Suddenly, she was EXTRA excited to get inside the house. I figured - ahh what the heck, maybe she's just tired. I sure am! And so half skipping to keep up with her, we got back.

As I am relaxing, Cassie is tugging and playing with something. Per usual, I'm thinking it is one of the many toys I've spoiled given her MANY toys. It's not big deal. But then she begins to cough, and shes choking. And folks, I don't know cpr on dogs. I didn't know until this point that if necessary, I'd have to perform it. And I can't see a dog hopeless. And here she is coughing, slamming on the floor, jumping all over me with this look in her eye. I am helpless and damn scared. And then something happened. She jumps off of me and does one mean cough. And then barks. And walks away. And the present she left me was well.. Okay. She was playing with a freakin' used Condom.

....

I stared. And then looked at her, happily jumping around. And then I stared at it again. I'm not sure if it was disgust, disbelief or what. But I couldn't move. My dog was choking on someones used Condom. No. No, my dog brought in a used Condom into my room! What the hell. And then I proceeded to chase her around the house out of anger. I then went on operation Get Condom Out. Suited in gloves and a bag, off it went. Into the trash. I don't know what the hell my neighbors are doing, but attempting to kill my dog via used Condom? That's not even cool.

Thou Shalt Love Thy Neighbor as Thyself

I am a relatively nice, cuddly person. My personality is simply peppered with too much wit and sarcasm. Or a lot of wit and sarcasm. And I have anger issues. MAJOR anger more so towards the ignorant. I am small, but I am feisty. And I am perfectly okay with that.

But seriously, I fucking hate my neighbor.

She is the most ridiculous woman I have ever set eyes on ever. She is in her late 50s, maybe even pushing 60. Drives a Lexus SUV, wears clothing I don't even dare put on, and blasts P!nk and Katy Perry at retarded hours. This woman is having a late-life crisis, I think -- and she's taking the world down with her.

Let me paint a picture for you, folks.

Last night, I decided that I didn't want to drink. I was going to be DD (shocker). 3am rolls around, and after finally putting every in their safe havens - I head home. Finally making it home, I see that my crazy neighbor is in her driveway, dancing. She has the lights on, all of her windows from her car are down and as I get out of my car my ears are met with, "I kissed a girl and I likkkeddd itttt..." while this woman rocked her hips, hands flapping above her head. I was shocked. IT'S 3AM ON A THURSDAY LADY - WTF?

I stared for a second, contemplated what I should do next and figured that since it's a week day and someone around here HAS to be annoyed. I confronted her. I told her it was late and that she should probably put her music down. And she says to me, "Is Thursday a sacred day around here?"

And I replied with, "Not everyone is retired and having second thoughts about old age."

That'll teach her!

TMI Thursday - When keeping it real goes wrong.

It's that time again. Humiliate yourself, or revel in others humiliation. TMI Thursdays! Yay, thanks Lilu. ha.

I hate when people bring this story up because I turn bright red, even though I'm extremely tanned. And although that regretful night is long past gone, I still get the same feeling of wanting the floor to eat me right where I am. And usually, I just sort of start chanting "nanananan" while covering my ears as my friends laugh at my expense. It isn't very nice.

Whether or not you know this, you know this now. Jose Cuervo and I go back. WAY back. Jose is my PAL. He is my best friend and he got me through many many nights. He is also a bad friend, encouraging me to do bad things. Bad bad things. Bad things like attempt to rape someone and throw up everywhere right after. What?

*sigh* Here we go.

I love my friends, and I love to party with them. So, when the opportunity to get trashed on GWs campus was given - I jumped at the chance. Rich guys AND booze? I'm down. I am SO down. What began as meaningless beer consumption and rock band, turned into a full fledge - Icanoutdrinkyouwatchmegostupidfratboy. And there I was. Sitting at some strangers kitchen table. Going head to head on tequila shots. All 120 lbs of me, against this 200 lb frat boy with the alcohol capacity of a giant. But I was DETERMINED. I was going to WIN this. I am a PRO at Tequila for godsake. I WILL DRINK YOU UNDER THE TABLE! (all of these things I shouted.)

I'm not really sure what did it. It could have been shot number 8, or it could have been the cheers that I was still standing - that I had not given up. That I was indeed the woman of all woman. After every shot, it began to taste like water and I watched this frat boy wince and wince and wither away. I was winning! YES! But then things began to blur. And only bits and pieces were coming together. I remember having a heart to heart with this frat boy. I remember him telling me about his girlfriend he was going to propose to this summer. And then I remember throwing myself on him. In a drunken stupor did I think that attempting to rape a boy who was about to propse was hot? WTF was I thinking?

And then it happened. Beer tears. Flowing. Everywhere. Convulsing. I could not stop. All I kept saying was, "I am such a horrible person. I didn't mean to try to rape you. I don't know why I did that. I think you should call your fiance. I should call her. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry." Until he told me to stop apologizing. He was rather nice about the entire 5 second scenario. And then something awkward happened. This was, alas, right after I found out my boyfriend (or rather ex boyfriend) didn't feel the same way about me after three years. And so, I began to cry about not being wanted. About not ever getting proposed to.

And then I got angry. And folkes, angry drunk with me seems to be very different. What happened next is what makes me hate my life everyday.

I went into the bathroom, I shouted "IF NO ONE WANTS ME - THEN F*CK THEM!". I opened the bathroom cabinet under the sink. And proceeded to throw up in there. I casually got up, told them I had a present for them. And passed out.

I never did go back there, you know. But I did apologize via the ever so classy FB message. Jose, you are no longer my friend.

Job-a-hunting we go.

I'm not a fan of change, but I've reluctantly over the years I have given in and accepted that it is a part of life. Even more so is the case now. With Scumbag J slowly getting out of the picture, I've come to the conclusion that it is time for me to find a new job, get away from whatever drama surrounds him. Let it all go. You know? Yeah, I know.

And so, this week instead of awesome nights of getting wasted and sleeping in until two, the adult in me has kicked in and I have gone job hunting. And so far, it has been a disaster it makes me not want to get a new job.

I decided to grasp the opportunity given at Dish Bistro Lounge. Very cute through the website, very odd location if you live in the area. Actually going in? I was confused. The place was a little bit bigger than my very bedroom. The owner was a gay black man that got up and walked out in the MIDDLE of my interview to answer the phone! Without saying "excuse me" or even "hold on a second". No, of course not. Mid-freakin-sentence he just got up and answered his blaring phone.

What?

Anyway, there were 2 couches, 7 tables and a bar with 12 stools. You know, having someone walk out on you mid-interview I decided to survey the place. I wasn't really sure how this place worked or if they were even busy. Two minutes turned into fifteen minutes and I was flipping through the menu. $17 for BBQ chicken? Negative. Now, I was just annoyed. The little gay man comes in, apologies and continues to ask question - quite obviously uninterested in my responses. Halfway through one of my answers he comments that his head hurts and that I sound like a good candidate and he'll be calling me.

I don't want your job, weirdo.

I made it out alive.

I hate midterms, they take over my life. But I'm glad they're finally over and I can now relax for a week for nothingsness, possibly booze consumption. Whatever.

But of course, my week can't end just so plain jane. As a good citizen, I think I am getting my one ticket to heaven. How? This is how.

On Wednesday, I missed my midterm. WHAT THE? Well, on my way to class - I saw this freakin' idiot boy cornering a girl. She was crying. He was yelling. None of my business, I just want to get buy. Then he does something that jumpstarts the inner bitch in me. He kicks her. FULL OUT KICKS HER IN THE BABY MAKER. Folks, I kid you not - I did I 180. "Dude, WHAT THE FACK?". And off he goes, and down crumples this girl. I swear I thought I was being pranked. Does this shit just go down in hallways in colleges everywhere? Seriously?

Well, I wasn't just going to leave her there. And well.. she wasn't going to let me go either. This girl had the deathgrip on me and was sobbing. 2 hours, 3 cops and an ambulence ride later. Here I am sitting in the hospital room with a girl I met because she got kicked in the babymaker. What the fack. That's all I was thinking. How did I get myself in this? What in the world. But if it were me, I wouldn't want someone to just leave me there for like dead or something..

The girl was nice, I guess. She's okay - which is priority number 1. And I got excused from my exam for being a damn good person.

Weird shit happens, but don't worry.. mostly to me.

WORD.

We were all thinking it - he finally just said it.

This made my day :)

I won’t let this burden bring me down.

I debated whether or not I should discuss this via the interweb, but then I realized that the best honesty comes from those who know you the least. Trust for me is a very sacred thing. I, like a child, take promises very seriously and sometimes I get overwhelmed when people fail to meet the expectations they themselves build for me.

We will call him Scumbag J. Scumbag J and I went to high school together, and then we went to college together. We dated three years, which turned rocky and went from on again to off again to on again. It was one of those intoxicating relationships, where we knew we loved each other, but the fighting was overwhelming. For whatever reason, in those three years - I was utterly faithful. Yeah, crazy right? I didn't want to be with anyone else because at that time I had the notion that things would work themselves out, and Scumbag J thought so as well. Or at least, that's what he made me believe. Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse my rambling - as this just happened two days ago and I myself am attempting to digest it.

I would like to add that I am an extremely strong person. I have an extremely strong personality and I don't take lying very well. Actually, I have a zero tolerance for it. But for the first time in my dating history - I have absolutely NO idea what to do with myself. And excessive booze consumption could lead to many bad things (including beer tears), and I'm not down for that.

Anyhoodles, on Friday as I was minding my own business, someone whom I've come to know is the gossip queen and knows everyones business tells me so kindly that Scumbag J slept with two people I thought were my friends. I usually have something to say, you see, I was given the gift of gab and use it quite well. I was speechless, my dear friends. Speechless. And of course, naturally -- because I am this way - I confronted the said Friend(s). And the friends of the said friend(s). And everyone confirmed (many with hesitation) that what I had heard was indeed correct. And so, I decide to text Scumbag J out of anger. And he freaks out. Switches his story five times, and well - gets to the root of things. He was with other people, while I sat at home like an angel hoping things would work out between us.

I'm cried out. I think I lost 10 lbs this weekend because food makes my head spin. I'm actually lost, and I am JJ. I DO NOT GET LOST. But alas, here I am. And well, now everyone knows. I dated the scumbag of all scumbags. And momentarily sobbing will continue.

*bows*

The end is near.. or is it?

I'm young, I get it. But I swear I act like I'm thirty and I am completely okay with it. Today, while in class my professor told us we should make a list of things we've always wanted to do/people normally do before they hit the big 2-1. As if that were some type of ridiculous milestone. The problem is that I don't know. I simply do not know what I'm suppose to be relishing my days in before it nothing (that is normal) is illegal for me anymore. I don't bar hop (because I don't want a fake ID) and I don't really like clubs. But what a meaningless year this has been, I feel as if I'm getting older and have nothing to be all excited about accomplishing. Am I lame for this? I feel lame for this.

I blame my eversowonderful break up that has me all kinds of weird. I read and do homework. THAT'S IT. I am lame, oh my. Anyway, I decided I'd turn to the internet and somehow compile a list of 21 things to do before I turn 21. (Please don't judge). And I think I'm going to add to that list going on a blind date. HOW ABOUT THAT FOR STARTERS, EH?

Anyway, this is a short post. Do share ideas, suggestions, things you did.
:)

TMI Thursdays - Sex makes babies? WHAT!

Once again, thanks to LiLu I have decided to join the ranks in TMI Thursdays. Is it too late? Meh. But here we are.. and well, here we go.

None of us like the think that our parents have sex, at least I don't know a being that accepts that. I for one am a firm believer that my parents are still virgins, and that I just suddenly appeared on their doorstep. Call it juvenile, or what have you. Say that sex is a part of life, whatever. But just the mere thought of my parents getting it on is all kinds of wrong in my head. ALL KINDS OF WRONG.

And because I have some of the best luck known to man, I was proven WRONG on the implication that my parents don't have sex. And I was proven wrong at an age where projectile vomiting could accompany the knowledge (which it did). I would have cared to learn so in a different way, a gentler way, but god was not so kind.

The tender (or not so tender) age of sixteen is sacred to all females. We're beginning to date, some of us losing our virginity, experimenting with alcohol or whathave you. This particular night was no different. I remember being at a party, and I remember tasting vodka for the first time ever. And then it was my first extremely sloppy night. Immediately I phoned home to let my parents know that I was indeed sleeping over my best friends house. However, between the wee hours of midnight and 2 am (you know, young and sloppy) I decided that I preferred the comfort of my bed to that of the floor of some strangers house. After many phonecalls and pleading, I was dropped off at my house. Ladies and gents - what happened next, I hope no one ever experiences in their life.

I quietly open the door. Close it behind me. I hear squeaking. What is that noise? I'm drunk - whatever. I stumble slowly through the the foyer, looking for a light. Switch it on. ALAS, there they are. My parents.. in all of their nakedness.. getting down and dirty.. on the very couch I had spent endless nights staying up watching TV on.

And then I remember feeling woozy, and I threw up all that vodka on the floor. And refused to speak to my parents for an entire week.

Paw tectors saved my life

I love my dog. I really honestly do, even though I've only had her for a month. But she's cute and smart and I love her.

I, however, do not love (nor do I believe in) dressing up your pets. But of course, with my luck when I first got her - everyone wanted to buy her a cute shirt. She is a dog. SHE DOESN'T NEED SHIRTS! I don't believe in the bows, the shirts, the dresses, the sweaters and the sneaker. They're not cute. Your dog looks like a big asshole. Just.. I don't like them.

My dog, aside from being adorable, hates the cold. I'm talking about hate with a firey passion. Instead, she has begun to do her business INSIDE of the house because welll.. it's too dang cold and her paws don't like it. I was at my wits. I had no other way to turn. I had to conform and I was hating every minute of the realization.

ENTER: Paw Tectors.

These hideous things not only saved my sanity, but my carpeting as well. And although at first she looked absolutely nuts with these on, but she was also walking funny. She got the hang of it and did her business OUTSIDE! She even rolled in the snow.

*sigh*

Somecard Sundays (and I am now eternally grateful)

First, I want to thank the fab LiLu for fixing my comment area. It works now! Thanks chica! No, like really -- THANK YOU SO MUCH. I owe you big time. It's a pop-up, or opens in one page - but now you can comment and I won't get all angry and hulky about how blogspot is angering me! :)

Also, thanks to LiLu I now want to participate in Somecard Sundays. Mostly, because I love somecards and always send them to my friends. Shes going to post a card every Sunday that explains how she is feeling at that moment.

And so, I begin:

And this is quite true. A friend of mine and I were discussing what we were giving up for lent, if indeed we decided that this year we wanted to give up something for lent. And conversation goes:

Friend: I mean, I get the meaning behind it.. yet I find it SO pointless.
Me: Will-power, I'm assuming. I tried to give up cursing, but then Cassie had an accident in the house and there went that.
Friend: Whats it matter anyway? At the end of it all, if I do end up giving up chipotle - I'm going to run to chipotle and eat 3 burritos in one sitting and die. I'd rather just eat it all the time and save myself.


*nods*

What? I thought it was Saturday.

Apparently my senses are way off. I woke up this morning, stretching with a smile thinking it was Saturday. Rude awakening much? It's Sunday and I still haven't done the ton of homework I've been assigned. Procrastination at it's finest - look, I'm on this thing for heavens sake.

There aren't enough hours in the day, partially because I choose reading over learning.

I think I'm moving my blog back to wordpress because blogspot isn't cutting it for me. I don't like it. It makes me want to cry and no one can figure out the comment fiasco.

Waaaaaaaaah. One more attempt, lets see if it works!