Tag Archives: Bex

Wine & Love v.4

8 Mar

Hosted by Nora

I missed last week’s Wine & Love post and actually considered skipping this week, too. Life has been infringing on my writing time! I decided, though, that it’s far more important to me to make this a real priority. Perspective is integral to maintaing my own sanity, so without further ado …

… Wines …

  • I’m feeling restless again. My new job and new apartment sated me for a while, but apparently not long enough. I’m trying to figure out what I need to change (my location? my mindset?) to still my itching-to-go legs.
  • This week has been insanely busy. Between work and hectic social plans, I’ve had almost no time for myself and I think my body’s angry at my neglect.
  • I’m at a point where I feel very torn between the sentimental value of all my things and the undeniable impulse to get rid of all of it. This is both new and frustrating and I’m not sure where to go from here.

… Loves …

  • I’ve been having weekly Skype dates with Katie! It (almost) feels like we’re hanging out for real.
  • I successfully surprised Adam for his 25th birthday. He was so shocked and excited and we had so much fun celebrating! (Aside from the part where he blacked out and almost broke his foot. That’s probably in his “Wine” column this week.)
  • Despite the chaos, I’m so happy to have gotten to connect with some of my favorite people. Friends from college, old jobs, and my stepsister all made it onto my social calendar this week!
  • Being a vegetarian for March – so far, so good! Maybe I’ll dub this Meatless March. (Why did I just think of that?)
  • The Hunger Games (!) and the Kindle app for my iphone (!). Enough said.

As usual, go link up with Nora and let us both know what you’re loving and w(h)ining about this week!

The Giant Pants & An Obscure Cartoon

6 Feb

I used to have these super soft, gray cotton, drawstring pajama pants. I got them when I was in that adolescent stage of thinking I was way more enormous than I really was, so naturally these pants were also enormous. I, however, have never actually been enormous, so the pants just looked ridiculous on me.

Luckily, they were pajamas, so I didn’t wear them in public. Ok, maybe sometimes I did, but it was high school and back in 2002 wearing giant pajama pants in public was cool. FINE I just had a terrible fashion sense.

That’s not the point.

The point is that I brought them to college with me and then brought them to France during my semester abroad. At some point in France, I realized just how giant these pants were:

It's unclear why I was ever under the impression these pants fit normally.

I mean, really, you’d think I’d lost some impressive amount of weight and wanted to illustrate it. Nah, I just had an incredibly skewed concept of how small or big I really was.

Shortly after my Giant Pants Epiphany, I started experimenting with how much of my body I could fit into these pants. Turns out, it was all of it:

This is what we did for fun in France.

Around the same time I was playing the Fit My Entire Body In a Pair of Pants Game, Facebook introduced photo albums and something called “tagging.” As you can imagine, these pictures got posted – and tagged – immediately. (They’re still tagged. Why would I ever take them down?)

This one was particularly popular with two of my roommates:

If you don't see a giant gray ass with a head, you need your eyes checked.

My roommates began referring to me as Assy McGee. Apparently I needed a crash course in clothing sizes and  pop culture: Assy wasn’t just an endearing nickname, but an actual cartoon character.

I'm not sure there's an appropriate caption for this.

It’s been six years and I wear smaller pants now, but I’ve never actually lived this down.

NYC Subway Man Dates Cousin, Doesn’t Mind

16 Nov

I’m trying to blog more. I really want to. But I really prefer writing about the weird shit that happens to me. And sometimes weird shit stops happening. Or sometimes so much weird shit happens that I get overwhelmed trying to process it and can’t find time to actually write it down.

Lucky for me, I have friends who like telling me about the weird shit that happens to them. Lucky for you, I am not too overwhelmed by their stories to post them here. Enjoy this little nugget from Bex:

Annually Blacking Out on Valentine’s Day

20 Feb

Am I like, subconsciously self-destructive on Valentine’s Day? I really don’t care much either way about the holiday. I’m sure I’d find it to be incredibly romantic and sweet if I were ever dating someone on the day (or totally awkward timing) but I never am so I just don’t really care about it.

However, I do like to get dressed in hot pink or red and I definitely use it as an excuse to go out with my best girlfriends and dance the night away looking hot or really ugly depending on how drunk I get. Which, given the last two years, is way too drunk. Here’s what happened last week and why, subsequently, I was absolutely dying on Sunday. I mean I didn’t even get out of bed until 7pm. That’s bad.

Anyway, I don’t know what happened. I mean I do – but only to a certain extent. Like I’ve told you, Quasi-Stepsister Alex came over and so did Bex and we had a couple drinks and hung out in my room and bonded. Alex pretended to be me on gchat with Eager Beaver Wesley (who’s invitation to dinner tomorrow night came Friday afternoon and which I have chosen to ignore). Around 10:30, Bex and I met Twin at a midtown bar where our friend bartends. Bex found some rando black dude and almost immediately began making out/gyrating with him on the dance floor/in a booth. Thankfully, Twin is a stellar wingwoman and we danced by ourselves until we found our-friend-the-bartender’s-girlfriend, who is awesome and tons of fun. We hung out with her and her friends and took some shots thanks to our-friend-the-bartender and took full advantage of the open bar in ever way possible (read: lots of drinks.).

At some point, Bob Saget tried to approach Twin and me, although Twin explained that she was married and I explained I was Jessica. This made sense at the time. We proceeded to glare at Bob Saget to indicate our strong feelings of reproach, at which point Bex emerged from her black dude and within about 83 seconds was making out with Bob Saget.

Now, Twin and I tried our best to prevent and then stop these things from happening, we really did, but if you know Bex, you know that when she is on a mission, she is unstoppable. So we judged a bit and moved on and then apparently I blacked out. The next thing I knew, Marathon Man, Twin’s husband of four years and also a forest ranger from Vancouver had arrived. In real, sober life, Marathon Man is Twin’s boyfriend of about four months. He is from about an hour upstate.

I definitely tried to claim him as my boyfriend, which he nicely played along with. The poor guy really had no idea that when he started dating Twin he was also required to become my wingman/saving grace from sketchy dudes. Unfortunately, Marathon Man kind of failed, since I learned the next day I’d given my number (and real name – what?!) to someone. I learned this because he texted to say happy Valentine’s Day and also called me and also texted “hey sarah how are you?”. The number was not saved in my phone, I don’t remember talking to anyone remotely attractive or even unattractive. Obviously each attempted contact went ignored and the mysterious 917 number has not appeared in my phone since Monday.

Back to the actual night. Marathon Man failed and then I blacked out again and I got in a cab with Bex who lives in Brooklyn and she informed me later that she got dropped off at a subway stop. I managed to get myself home and spent the entire next day miserable and dying for no apparent reason, since I did not mix alcohols or have tequila.

So I can only gain from this experience the assumption that Drunk Sara must be really miserable on Valentine’s Day but also must be nice enough to Sober Sara to let her think she doesn’t care, since Drunk Sara just blacks out and then Sober Sara has no idea what happened.

The Eager Beaver, or Reason #8,492 Why I Don’t Date Online

20 Feb

It’s pretty exciting that I feel the need to apologize for not posting in “so long,” seeing as it’s only been five days. That means I’m getting better! Give me props. Thanks.

Anyway, earlier this week I mentioned I did this for four days for free. Besides sending a whopping 22 clicks to eHarmony (they should thank me – who of you signed up?) (uh, kidding), I also progressed really fast through their ridiculous communication stages.

My good friend B2 is a full-blown member, partly because she’s single but mostly so she can write hilarious stories for the world (or her 27 subscribers) to read. Anyway, when good ‘ole eHarmz announced yet again it was having a Free Communication Weekend, I figured what the hell. I already told you I need a distraction from Cali Boy, B2 made an entire blog out of her experiences; the least that can happen is I get some quality stories for you people (who I still believe exist, despite your recent silence…).

Those conniving bastards at eHarmz probably figured that by conveniently offering four full days of free communication over the long Valentine’s Day weekend they’d more successfully convince lonely, single hearts to join and continue their search for The One. Ha! Not me. I’ve done online dating and I’ve found it to be utterly and totally unsuccessful. Except for my mom who now basically lives with her boyfriend and they met on eHarmz and who I’m convinced is just an exception to the rule that online dating sucks. Anyway, despite my seasoned, wise worldview regarding virtually meeting someone special, I had nothing to lose by signing up for the free weekend. I had no intention of signing up (I still don’t) and said so in my profile. When asked if there was any extra information I’d like my matches to know, I pretty much spelled it out: “I’m doing the free weekend because I’m in town and I want to see what happens. I’m not signing up after Monday night, though, so we communicate now or never.”

Online dating is no place for games, coyness, teasing, or flirting. All that shit needs to be done in person (minus the games because those are stupid online and off). However, since I was cheating the system, eHarmz wouldn’t let me see my matches’ profile pictures. While most guys are paying members and could see my (super cute) pictures, all I got was a generic blue silhouette. Fine, whatever, I’m cheating anyway so I guess I deserve some mystery.

Anyway, I opened up my profile on Thursday night and by Saturday afternoon I’d reached open communication with one guy and was close to it with three others. While Bex and my quasi-stepsister Alex were hanging out in my room on Saturday night, I received my first gchat message from Wesley, 24, New York, NY. I was busy getting pretty for the night so Alex pretended to be me (surprisingly well) and chatted away. Earlier, Wesley had sent me a picture of himself – he wasn’t bad-looking. It was a slightly awkward angle, but I could see where he’d be cute. He also told me he thought I was “beautiful and very cute.” I don’t normally equate those two, but hey – thanks buddy. Fast forward to Sunday, when I am laying in bed hungover as shit, basically dying, and Wesley gchats me again. (Thank you BlackBerry for allowing me to gchat on my phone and therefore be horizontal and dying while pretending to be cute and lively online.) He once again tells me how gorgeous I am and asks if we can hang out. Today. On Valentine’s Day. Uh, no. One, I’m dying. Two, even if I were functional, you don’t have a first date/meeting on Valentine’s Day. That’s just ridiculous. Also, Wesley, chill. We’ve talked like twice. I don’t even know if you went to a real college.

Fast forward again to Monday, which was President’s (Presidents’?) Day and a day off work (!). Wesley gchats again (literally the second I signed on – which is automatic when I turn on my computer) and we start talking. He asks me to dinner that night. I oblige, figuring we might as well meet and also my plans for the evening originally involved taking myself on a date to see “Valentine’s Day.” Also, you only get so far on gchat. I see B2 online (at work – she is an insane workaholic) and tell her my short story. As she tells you here, she was at first jealous that I’d gotten a date in under four days when she has yet to be on one after 10 weeks. But then I said his name. Wesley. And she said, “Wait, MY Wesley?” I scrambled to check her blog.

“24?” She asks.

“Yeah, 5’9″?” I confirm.

“Oh…my…god. Did we get matched with the same guy? Is this Eager Beaver Wesley?!” She squeals.

Oh, absolutely, we discover. I sign into her account and sure enough – Eager Beaver Wesley fast-tracked her (aka, requested to skip every level of communication and go straight to emails). She left him in eHarmz Purgatory after seeing his height (she’s a modelesque 5’10”) but she hadn’t closed him. Do you understand what this means? I could see his other pictures!!!

But oh no. Oh. No. No no no no no.

At 5’5″, I cannot judge a guy for being a solid four inches taller than I am, even if I prefer the height difference to span something more like 7 or 8 inches. However, as a pretty freaking cute chick, I absolutely can judge a guy for being unattractive. And WOW was Wesley unattractive. His second picture was a much less awkward angle than the one he sent me, he had some weird chin-strap thing going on, and appeared to be closer to 5’7″ and about 135 lbs. NOT OK. Your BMI cannot be lower than mine unless you’re really, really tall.

Needless to say, I’m a judgmental and superficial bitch and I quickly told Wesley my mother had just called and was in town with her boyfriend and was taking me out to dinner. Then I closed down my free eHarmz account permanently, abandoning the other guys who hadn’t quite reached open communication with me yet. And then I took myself on a date – “Valentine’s Day” with Twizzlers, buttered popcorn, and a huge Diet Coke – and had a perfectly wonderful evening. By myself.

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