Bring me back, Blogger...

Awake over an hour prior to my alarm clock going off, and with 15 weeks of schoolwork to catch up? What a wonderful time to update my blog that I haven't touched in nearly a year!

Anyways, what brought me back here is my friend Natalie; it'd be lonely at the top without her   [we've decided that we're obviously too awesome and that is why we are blessedly single. and I say blessedly with feigned spunk... sometimes it does get lonely at the top, but I digress]. It has been a rough few weeks, or rather a bumpy 2013 for me thus far and I was feeling particularly down in the dumps yesterday, primarily about my unavoidable pending spinstership, so I reached out to Miss G  to express these concerns and she texted me back with two screen shots detailing her latest attempts in not giving up on the dating game... I was hysterical. Wild fits of laughter, mixed with shock, disbelief, and a bit of despair- I mean, really! What is with people these days?! Call me a stick in the mud, but I blame the internet... and smart phones. There are simply no boundaries any more. Nat then messaged me a link to her blog, which I decided to peruse during the hour or so that I was awake before my alarm went off [this obviously takes precedence over the 15 weeks of discussion posts I have been putting off... which equals roughly 45 educated, preferably scientifically sound posts for minimum credit. 75 for full credit. #winning], I then wandered over to my own neglected blog and re-visited a handful of my dating/abysmal life recollections and thought this is the perfect opportunity to get re-acquainted with blogger!

I entered 2013 with what I thought was a head and heart full of promise. I interviewed for an entry level position, which I was over-qualified for, within a company that I admire and respect and I was dating an adorably pudgy Chef who loved food as much as I do; things were looking good. Low & behold it all unraveled. Didn't get the job, cheffy freaked out over feelings [#shocker], and I was solo and wallowing in a miserable, dead-end job. Wait, there is no "was", that is still my current situation. Silence the noise makers.

I actually did attempt to date someone after cheffy, but that all fell to hell this past week, at my own prompting. Still pulling myself from the wreckage, hence my recent dismal state of despair, and, dare I admit, borderline depression?! Blech. Miserable.

What all of these "feelings" have shown me, much to my resistance, is that I guess I am ready to find "like" [love is really jumping the gun here, especially with all these fucking winners in the running], and someone to hang out with, who makes me laugh, loves to eat, and can hang with my friends. For some reason those really seem like unrealistic goals, but we'll see what 2013 still has in store. After all, it always gets worse before it can get better, right? Right?!?!?!

#realtalk

me:  do you think it is easier for stupid people to have successful relationships than intelligent people?

Ryan:  absolutely

did you ever notice that poor, uneducated trashy people fall in love and have babies every week

me:  its true. they don't question anything

i put more thought into which toothbrush to purchase than most individuals seem to put into the decision to marry or procreate

Why Dating is Hard

Some women are really good at being demanding and getting what they want; this appears to work in their favor when it comes to the dating game.  I, however, suck at it, apparently.  I don't like to demand... I guess I expect people to read my mind, which makes it worse. While I could be pretty easy-going, which is typically only applicable when my basic needs [humor, education, laughter, fit, food, booze, genuine... which is a gray area] are met, there are some definite deal-breakers that exist.

Here is a brief list, compiled by Amara and I:

•  if he orders take out and picks up a bottle of wine and its yellowtail. done. next. 

• if he lists "Yes, Dear" or "Two and a Half Men" as favorite shows. done. next.

• if we go to a casino together and play blackjack and he hits on a 13 when the dealer is showing a 5. done. next.

• if he thinks chicken parm is real Italian food. done. next. 

• has nicer eyebrows than me. done. next.

• if he orders Hennessy at 2pm. done. next.

• if his choice beer is Corona. or Bud Light. or Coors Light. or Shock Top. done. next.

• his last name is "Patel". done. next.

• if chicken is their favorite type of meat. done. next. 

• if they talk with their mouth full or chew with their mouth open [and poor table manners in general]. done. next.

• if he is unable to compose a word earning greater than 9 points in Words with Friends. done. next.

• if he draws unnecessary, inappropriate, sexually explicit images in Draw Something. done. next.

• if they assume Sri Lanka is an extension of India. done. next.

• if he uses the word "hot" as a compliment. this can also be extended to include banter consisting primarily of uni-syllabic words. done. next. 

• if he txts lyk dis. done. next.

• if he orders a bottle of wine and basically shares it with himself. then cannot drive me home [you'd think that would be a no-brainer, but it obviously happened to me]. done. next.

• texting to say they are outside instead of coming to the door, like a man. done. next.

• if they consider The Olive Garden a restaurant. done. next.  

and on that note, I'm done. Next.

I met a boy-

Well, technically, he's a man. He is 33 and has a career, blah blah blah. We have been talking for roughly the past 3 weeks and things are too comfortable. So comfortable that I am uncomfortable. Regardless, the manner in which we crossed paths deserves recognition because I think it is hysterical.


It was a Mir & Sandra date-night; we decided to hit up Porta in Asbury Park. Sandra, as per usual, was breaking her own damn neck on the prowl for men. I was just sippin. Fast forward to last call; I am at the bar, Sandra is outside smoking a cigarette. She comes in, or I go out, its blurry... regardless, she wants to go back to this guy's place, and that is soooo not typical protocol. After much begging and bargaining I agree to go back for A beer... so we are back at dude's apartment, waiting for his friends to arrive with said beer. At this point, from my recollection, I am basically watching he and Sandra conversate, because I could care less about anything other than being within sprinting distance to the nearest exit.

Anyways, I had mentioned to this young man, Tim, that my friends and I were interested in moving to Asbury at some point, so he gave me his card to get in touch with him when we were ready to begin our apartment hunt. Now, at some point, the banter between Sandra and Tim took a turn for the worse; she had been pressing him for his monthly rent payments and he flipped a switch, feeling as though she was trying to feel him out for how much money he makes in a year [intuitive], and I begin frantically motioning for us to get the fuck out. As we are on our way out, Sandra cursing at Tim, Tim cursing at Sandra, I am in the middle, side-stepping in my 4 inch Michael Kohrs heels, Tim's business card in the air, motioning ,"I can still call you about the apartments, right? We're cool? You'll help us out?" And so it began... and now it proceeds.

I finally rang him, approximately 2 weeks later, and received voicemail: "Hi, this is Miriam. You kicked my friend out of your apartment two weeks ago, but you said I could call you and you'd help me find a spot in Asbury. Give me a call back, xxx-xxx-xxxx." He rings me back, hungover and in bed, he had completely forgotten about that incident until my voicemail, regarded as the "greatest voicemail ever." And so we have been bantering back and forth, and it has been fun. It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of meeting an intelligent, funny man... and now I am just waiting for the shit to hit the fan. As it always does. 5-4-3-2...

controversial

Today's epiphany: I like to think people know how to act right... Which is likely why I'm constantly discontent with the general population.

With that said... anyone who reads this blog [ie. anyone that correlates themself to any of the pseudonyms in my posts] will likely exclaim, "Bitch be trippin! Talkin' bout actin right but airin' all this shit!" And they are possibly entitled to feel that way, with the obvious exception of Yance because he is the most ridiculously deluded individual to roam the earth and the only thing he should be entitled to is a mirror that slaps him in the face every time he looks into it, however, I like to think my actions are OK, based solely on my respect for punctuation and illustrative articulation.

more miscommunication

As we know, on Sunday I committed a complete technological blunder and messaged the wrong person with all of the things I was saying about that said individual. Of course I immediately reported the story to Amara so that she could empathize with my mortification and laugh at the general absurdity; the one thing she did not take away from the wreckage was to be mindful of where she points & clicks....

So I'm hanging around at my friend's house and receive the following text:

"Ugghhhh I was stalking one of bf's exes on fb and I accidentally added her as a friend"

Followed by:

"Whyyyy is this happening to us!!!!"

And then defeat:

"I just deactivated fb. I can't handle all this right now."

Brilliant. Kudos to genetics, social media, and the extensive arrays with which we continue to accidentally humiliate ourselves and isolate others through such networks. I think I prefer my embarrassment the old fashioned way: in person. That way, at least the other person knows it was a genuine accident and not someone using technology as a shield, or as yet another excuse not to act right.

Current timeline of Awesome

• 3 weeks ago: Closest friend since high school professes real love for me. Just to put it out there.
  
• 2 weeks ago: Cali-state of mind
• 1 week ago: Boca eats two boxes of Raisinets and has to be hospitalized for 1.5 days.
• Yesterday: mortify myself via g.chat.