Category Archives: General Complaining

In the Business of Homewrecking

I wasn’t going to blog this, but I haven’t had anything else even remotely interesting happen to me in the past few days, so here it is!

I haven’t been going to class as often as I should recently, so after begrudgingly dragging myself to Shakespeare class on Tuesday night I was grateful for the early dismissal brought on by bad weather. Instead of getting out at 8:50, we left at around 7:30. I was glad to have an extra hour to work on what seems like a million upcoming papers. Rather than be responsible and use that time wisely, however, I decided to go to my favorite watering hole for some dinner. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Get groceries? Ha.

With every intention of having one drink with dinner and then hightailing it back home to gaze into my computer’s glowing face, I ordered a dirty martini and a grilled cheese sandwich. (Best grilled cheese I’ve ever had, it is called the “white cheese” sandwich and has about a zillion different white cheeses on it, including feta.) I intended to sip the martini and revel in the Grey Goose until my dinner was done, and then leave like a normal person would.

I forgot to mention that my good friend is the barkeep at this watering hole, and when she is lacking in mouths to feed (and livers to destroy) she likes to experiment with shots. And she likes me to try them. After about two hours longer than I wanted to stay, I met a nice man who happened to take the bar stool next to me. He interjected that I should not, in fact, attempt going to law school after my undergrad studies are complete. That is how I found out that he was a lawyer and now he flips houses. He was charming, funny and seemed uncommonly worldly for our given location. As someone who had all but given up on finding an interesting man to talk to, I was impressed.

We talked for what seemed like forever, drank and laughed. He then hopped down from the stool and revealed himself in all his tiny glory. He was only 5’7″. This, my friends, is what I would normally call a deal breaker. I cannot date a man who is shorter than me. I just can’t do it. I already feel like an Amazon woman and I don’t need a daily confirmation of that. However, I decided to look past the gnomeness of this gentleman, given that I was so impressed with the less shallow aspects of him. We hit it off. So did our lips.

I exchanged numbers with him at the end of the LONG night (didn’t get home until the wee hours of the morning) and left hoping to hear from him again. I didn’t have to hope for long, since he texted me promptly the next morning (a few hours later, rather). It was a simple “Hi, I really enjoyed talking”…etc. Nothing fancy. But, it was encouragement!

I was feeling pretty good despite the hangover and lack of sleep until I received a call from an unknown number. I answered, thinking nothing of it.

It was a woman who had gotten my name and phone number texted to her in the middle of the night. How curious. She asked if I had perhaps met someone named *** (Not sharing that!) the previous night, to which I of course responded, “Yesss…” tentatively. As it seems, the wonderfully charming man I had met and thrown aside my prejudice against midgets for had not stored my name and number in his contacts list, but rather accidentally texted it to his GIRLFRIEND. The girlfriend he told me he did not have when I asked him outright.

She was a completely rational and smart woman who thanked me for my honesty and assured me that she would be breaking up with him that evening. She apologized for the awkward situation and said that she wasn’t even going to mention to him that she knew about me. She was just going to break up with him cleanly and simply and leave him asking questions. She has restored my faith in young women while simultaneously crushing my hope of ever finding a normal, decent man.

If asking a man if he is attached isn’t enough, then I am out of ideas.

What a douche.

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Things I realized I hated while waiting for class to start

Going to an Environmental Geology class as an English Literature and Language major is preposterous. I don’t care about the movement of the earth’s continental and ocean plates. I just don’t. Someone write some fiction involving ocean: continental convergence and then maybe we’ll talk. While I was stewing in my lonesome aura of hatred, I started looking around the lecture hall to see who I could direct some of that hatred to. What I realized in that process are the following things:

I don’t get why some girls make the conscious decision to wear a baseball cap and dangly, ornate earrings simultaneously. If you are in so much of a hurry that you can’t be bothered to comb your hair, then at least commit to the look. Go with “I’m not a girly girl, I can hang with the dudes” instead of “I haven’t washed my hair in 4 days, but I can’t bear to tell my ears”. Annoying.

I don’t understand short-sleeved sweaters. Not a sweater in the sense that it’s an amazing ivory cashmere number, but more like a bulky “my great-aunt crocheted this for me over Christmas break” , don’t have to suck in your stomach when you sit down type of sweater. Clearly the point is not aesthetic. So it must be warmth, right? Then WHY WOULD YOU CHOOSE ONE WITHOUT SLEEVES? To layer up and get that sleek color block look starting at the most unflattering part of the arm? Of course. How could I have even wondered?

Standing in line for anything is completely degrading. I mean, just think about it. Little kids line up at recess because they can’t be trusted to proceed in an orderly fashion. The poor and downtrodden lined up in the streets to wait for their meager handout of bread during the Great Depression. I am obviously putting too much negative thought into this whole queue business but to this day I feel slight resentment toward whoever forces me to wait in a line. (Here’s where you go “ah…the superiority complex she mentioned…”)

Let me go ahead and take myself down a few notches:

Here’s something I love. Guys with arms that are hairier than mine. Thank you. Without you I would never date. At all. You make me feel like a natural woman. I’m a hairy beast, if you haven’t figured that out yet. Waxing or wiping off the hair with a depilatory cream resulted in what I’ll call “The great mole scare of 2009”. Without the hair, my arms are frighteningly pale and a veritable minefield of moles/freckles. It’s freaky! So…there you are. I’m a gross, weird, hairy freak.

Can You Hear Me Now?

As outdated and cliché as that title may be at this point, it is completely relevent to what I’m about to write. I promise with all of my heart that I am not exaggerating anything that follows:

I begrudgingly went to class after work today, even though the professor wasn’t going to bother to show up. She warned us last week that she would be in California for a conference and would be unable to attend. She did, however, graciously arrange for us to watch an archaic documentary about the history of corruption in the Press in her absence. To ensure that we’d show up, what with the lack of supervision and/or the recording of attendance, she assigned a response paper with specific questions pertaining to the documentary. UGH.

So, I was already annoyed, walking into class when I sat down and was confronted by the most irritating situation of the day. A loud mouth ginger girl who obnoxiously announced to the class that she had a cat named Mumford (ooh…sooo trendy of her) was sitting in the middle of the room, chatting at an ear-splitting level on her cell phone. Class hadn’t started yet, but the vibe of the 6 or 7 people who were also sitting in the room was that of hushed irritance. Yes, irritance. Her monopoly of airspace in the classroom made me feel as if I was supposed to keep quiet so as not to interrupt. Throughout the course of her 15 minute conversation, I learned that she was an idiot, and also the following things:  

*She currently makes about $20 a day at her job and that really sucks because Mumford is really high maintenance. I mean, he has to be neutered on Friday, but it’ll probably be cheap because he’s a boy.

*Her friend is taking forever to graduate. I mean, she’s already like 22.

*Her other friend gets a “ton” of financial aid because her dad got hurt at work or something and now he gets…what’s that called?…oh, disability. Yeah, he gets that, so she gets a TON of financial aid.

*Direct quote: “I only have classes two days a week. It really saves on gas. Haha, as to oppose of last semester!” Uh. WHAT?!

I spent the majority of class glaring at the back of her ginger head. I hope she felt it.