I hate you

I forgot to mention that I hate Mandy Moore even more now... and I didn't even mean that in a cute, clever way. I forgot she was on Entourage and broke the heart of Vincent Chase. Damn you, Mandy! Why are you following me on every show I love? I bet you were on PeeWee's Playhouse when I was a kid, too. You probably picked the effin Secret Word! Or maybe you got to pet the Swan on Swan's Crossing? You probably taught David Silver that dance he did with the keyboard, too, Maaaandy. I rue the day you appeared on my television set.

And yeah, I mentioned Swan's Crossing. I'll even mention the Nickelodeon show 15. Because I loved them both. And I hate Mandy Moore.

Awesome

Yesterday was an awesome day. How awesome was it? The awesomest. I spent the day with two of my dearest friends at Great Adventure. It was one of those May days when you have to wear a sweatshirt because there's a nice chill in the air but the sun is still warm enough to give ya just a lil color on your face (or the raging red Rudolph nose that I think is a hot look on half-Irish 27 year old ladies- meaning me.) Great Adventure was indeed, great. The only snag in my plan was that my entire class from the 2001-2002 school year was there- and I was playing hooky. We dodged them all day but they saw us and several accounts were reported through younger siblings today. Egh, whatevs. I am just happy that they remember me. And I got to ride Nitro front row with my hands up doing the rag doll over each rollercoaster hump. It was awesome.

Not so awesome came later that day when I had my first parallel to Carrie Bradshaw. I don't ordinarily connect with Ms. Bradshaw. I do love clothing, shoes, have a terribly tumultuous love life, and huge hair (haha, I wish) but other than that me and Care-bear have nada in common. Until yesterday. We've all seen the SATC episode where Carrie gets dumped by Burger on a Post-It. I used to think "OMG, who would do that? A post-it?!?! Ew." until Directionless came into my life. And until I got the break-up text.



Now, I enjoy the literary genre of reading, journaling, email, blogs, and yes, text messaging. I majored in English, for the love of Pete. I put the old cellie 5000 on vibrate (Thanks Ashley for teaching me the ways of Manner Mode) so that I can text during class and the kids are none the wiser. I can teach cursive with my chalk holder in my right hand and write a baby novella on my Samsung with my left, and still catch Funky Cold D. Medina talking to E. DuROCKovic (my students.) So I guess I projected this love of all things literary to Directionless, and he misdirected and took this as me only enjoying to speak in text message sentences. Of 120 characters or less. With random happy/sad faces in between for emphasis. Kill me ;O.


So yesterday, as I am eating a lovely dinner with T and D at the local Houli's, I notice I have texts (SHOCKER) so I check it and I get a bizarro "break-up after I already cut him loose" text. So effin bizarre. It was like "I am sorry that you feel this way. Maybe it's for the best even though I wish it wasn't :( " WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT? Frowney face included in the bizarro break-up after I already erased you from my phone text??? Oh no you didn't. Oh, yes you did. So that's that. Directionless has been let loose into the world of singledom. May he get lost in it.

So ladies, if you like 23 year old men with little to no direction who enjoy long text messaging sessions, pissing you off, watching Prison Break instead of hanging out with you and the country of Croatia, I might know some one for you. Better yet if you think it's awesome when someone tries to kill you by slamming you into another car on Tunnelly Avenue in Jersey City on Holy Thursday, or goes to church all the day, OR is a bouncer at the attrocity Bahama Mamas, then by all means leave me a comment and I'll hook your ass up! In the words of Michael Jackson "Just call my name and I'll be there... Doncha know baby, yeah."

Okay, baby?!?!

It's a long, long road...

Things have been on the up-and-up lately, so no need to blog and vent. Hence my absence. Lo siento, mis amigos, lo siento. On the up-and-up indeed, until last night when things came to a screeching hault. I have decided that not only do I "have a passion for the written word" (Thank you, Chali...) but I am dramatic.

Last night was one of those nights that would have been in a movie. Dating guy for about 2 months, he is trying to be cool in front of his borderline retarded friends at the local watering hole, of which I am unaccustomed to and I am the relatively new GF in the group. I go to the bathroom and come out and they are discussing me in "Guy Code" (which, HELLO, I am trained in having 3 brothers and 27 years of experience- feeble minded fools. They didn't know I use my Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Ring for good AND evil. "Drink your Ovaltine, my ace!") Just as my blood starts to boil from their blatant conversation ABOUT ME, the bartender almost knowingly arrives with a glass of Pinio Grigio that Directionless bought for me without asking and I look at my friend V, mouth "I gotta go" and make my wonderfully dramatic exit. It was so Felicity Porter. What? I even made dramatic phone calls and super-upset texts (even this morning) about the events. Bottomline- Wah wah wah.

Yeah, so I have decided to keep Directionless around to see how women feel who have stupid boyfriends/spouses. I wonder how many times he'll text me unrequitedly. Let's consider this a social experiment. This is like the ultimate Practice Page Packet because I can try out all the chapters in one guy. Like "My boyfriend doesn't really have a job" "My boyfriend's a little bit racist", and "My boyfriend only likes to have conversations in text messages because he is an idiot." (The best comment was when someone said "Does he read this?" hahahahahahahha. HE CAN'T READ, SILLY!)

I am out. It's Thursday and I gotta playdate with the bottle.