Gotta love a two-some…

This is going to be a 2-fer blog day.

First there is this bit of wisdom which is a continuation of yesterday’s blog:

From: 4*******s
Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/29/2010 5:58:00 PM

So that's it then? This is going no further? That sucks.

Wait… So let me get this straight. You continuously mock something that was a big enough part of my life that I chose to put it on my profile, THEN you chastised me for not asking you about yourself. And now you are pissed that I didn’t reply. Sorry, I was a BIT taken aback by the continued talking down to & belittling and if I HAD replied you certainly wouldn’t have liked my response. Unfortunately, what this message screams is that not only are you TOTALLY inconsiderate (as noted by your continued digging yourself deeper and deeper) but apparently you are a PUSSY as well.

And as I said to the friend I practically sexually assaulted (ok, I grabbed his ass) on a train platform this morning (you know you loved it honey, but I’m very glad I am shorter than you and am smart enough to duck) “If I wanted a pussy I’d get a cat.”

And then there is this, which is something I wrote as a wrestler, and later updated for dating sites. I was telling the friend I was messing with this morning about it and figured I’d post it for everyone’s reading enjoyment:

Let’s get some shit straight, shall we?

I felt the need to repost this after some of the creative messages and IM's I've received over the last few days. While some of the people I have spoken to have restored my faith in there being some NORMAL people on this site, others make me wonder when the asylum will realize they are AWOL...

This is basically directed towards some of the more cretin-ish things I have experienced on this site...

1. I am not some stupid fucking whore who will jump at the chance to sleep with you because you are a legend in your own fucking mind. Sorry, NOT FUCKING HAPPENING! I honestly could careless that you are a GOD in your own fucking feeble mind. And considering I have seen some of the rats that a lot of guys are ready & willing to hook up with, I would rather masturbate with a cheese grater then have you touch me, ESPECIALLY if I don’t know ANYTHING about you (see below).

2. I despise being touched by people I don't know. The idea of it makes me physically ill. My idea of hell on earth is going to a concert and having sweaty people I don't know pressing up against me. But I am HUGELY affectionate with my close friends (those I consider family), and I will tolerate being touched by adequateness. Therefore, this means, I will not just fall into bed with you. I will take the time to figure out if you are actually WORTH me sleeping with. I don't need a "warm body" in my bed, and I especially don't need "someone to take care of me". I have done quite well for myself, ON MY OWN for the past 7 years. I am looking for an equal. Someone I'd be willing to give up my freedom for. I have found that trait in 2 people from here. Neither of them know it either. And, by the way, I know as soon as I meet someone whether the touching issue will be a problem.

3. I have tits! Holy Shit! I carry them around with me every fucking day. In fact, I even RUN WITH THEM! I have noticed this, and I don't need them pointed out. I also don't need them spoken to. Pointing out that I have tattoos near them just makes you look really fucking STUPID! I paid for the fucking tattoos! I know they are there. And yes, to get this goddamn question out of the way my tits are fucking real. And NO, you can't fucking play with them. In fact let me note, yet again: I WOULD RATHER HAVE MY SKIN PEELED OFF AND THEN BE DIPPED IN A 10% BLEACH SOLUTION THEN HAVE A 90% OF THE SCUMBAGS WHO HAVE SENT SOME SORT OF "CREATIVE" MESSAGE IN MY DIRECTION, TOUCH ME.

4. If you repeatedly tell me that I really need to sleep with you after I have repeatedly told you NO, you automatically become a massive annoyance. You will continue to get the same goddamn answer: Bugging me about it just makes me think you are desperate and knocks you even lower on my mental ladder of life forms. In fact, it puts you on the rung between dog shit/pedophile and pond scum/Date Rapist.

5. I know I am extremely flexible. I have been doing Yoga for 10 years. I'd assume by now that I could bend my body into contortions that could make a PORN STAR blush, and do so at least 3 times a week, EVERY WEEK. Telling me I should come over and you will show me some "NEW YOGA POSITIONS" is about as creative as telling me, when you find out I am a Pro-Wrestler, "Wanna wrestle? I'll let you win..." It was amusing the first time I was told that. Now it just gives me a strong desire to kick your ass and leave you bleeding on a wrestling mat while I stand over you and laugh.

6. Kindly think LONG AND HARD about what you are writing when you message me. If it is something you wouldn't appreciate your daughter or little sister getting, do us BOTH a favor, and DON'T FUCKING SEND IT! I am getting really tired of having to block douche bags who take one look at my pictures, and send me some sort of crude message. I don’t give a flying fuck what my pictures make you want to do to me or to yourself. I attempt to be nice and reply, simply because I feel it is good manners. And then I get the same fucking STUPID question, "So what kind of stuff are you into?" How `bout you save me the time from my busy day and actually READ MY PROFILE instead of just jumping to conclusions by my pictures.

7. I am really not interested in threesomes, or dallying with someone who is taken (and isn't poly). If I wanted to do EITHER of the aforementioned things, I have PLENTY of friends I can hit up. End of story. None of you troglodytes thus far are hot enough, intelligent enough & rich enough to make me even think twice about involving myself in that kind of drama. I am more than happy to become friends, but I really am not interested in becoming the other woman.

8. (This was taken directly from a blog I posted when I was wrestling 2-3 times a week, but it gets the point across) Don't attempt to impress me with how "cool" you are. I don't fucking care. I don't go for muscle-bound meatheads who insist on living in a fantasy world. Talk to me when you have a real fucking job, a brain, and some common fucking courtesy. Treating me like shit cause "I am a female in a male dominated business" won't get me all hot & wet and ready to jump your bones in all sorts of nasty and degrading fashions. I work in a male dominated business in the real world, and guess what jackasses...that shit don't fly in the "real world". Sexual harassment lawsuits are extremely expensive. Unfortunately, you fucking retarded assholes have been working in this absolutely incredible FANTASY WORLD WHERE THIS SHIT IS OK!

Hopefully this will clear up some massive misconceptions you Neanderthal assholes have.

Have a nice day & kindly leave me out of your perverted fantasies.

Yup... Once an asshole, always an asshole.

your soul is toxic, you ain't no friend of mine

I must admit, at this point, I am mostly on PoF for this blog. 95% of the people on that site are a bunch of pretentious douche bags. That site is like combining the assholes you get in Seaside Heights, the Wildwoods & Great Adventure during the summer into one GIANT electronic clusterfuck. The collective IQ is somewhere between a rock and Forest Gump’s and most of the people on there think they are hot shit (in reality they are just stupid, ugly and ignorant). If I wanted someone like that, I'd date any of a number of Pro-Wrestlers who have propositioned me over the years. It has hit the point where now, when I get a message notification I cringe. This exchange, while MOSTLY grammatically correct (*happy dance*) gives a fairly good indication on why:

From: 4*******s
Subject: Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 12:54:32 PM

I remember I was telemarketing once, and I got an answering machine for a pro-wrestling training camp (actually, they are called a wrestling SCHOOL but whatever). Needless to say, that number got passed around like joint at dead concert.
Anyways, hi. I'm mike. How are you today?


From: Hooli-Gin
Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:00:49 PM

Hey Mike,

I have had better days (I'm an office manager and got screamed at by a client for NO reason) but your description of the number getting passed around definitely just made me burst out laughing. How are you today?

Melissa


From: 4*******s
Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:20:16 PM

Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. I'm ok. My day has just begun though, so I can't really say whether it's a good or bad day yet, but I brightened your day after a bad phone call, so I think I'm off to a good start.

You should be used to getting yelled at for no reason (EX-fucking-SCUSE ME?!? We have gotten 3 messages into it and you have the fucking balls to make a sweeping generalization about me?). That's all professional wrestlers do (Actually, we drink, smoke, do drugs and hurt one another. That’s it.) is yell at each other like it's personal, then take it in to the ring. (THIS is where we are REALLY starting to run into issues. It is MORE than fine for me to insult the wrestling business, since I have LIVED THROUGH IT! I paid my fucking dues in that business. But really, you know nothing about what we go through, or about the business so why don’t you shut the fuck up. All you are doing is pissing me off and making me regret that I replied to your message.)

So what's with the name hooli-gin, besides being a pun on hooligan? Does it have anything to do with hula hoops and gin? Because if it does, we have some more things to talk about (Seriously asshat, lay off the pot or crack or WHATEVER you are smoking.).

I'm curious about the modeling/ photography thing. Do you ever do fetish stuff? My thing is pantyhose (*sigh* I care WHY?!?). Hopefully that doesn't make you run for the hills (If you have to say something like that, then DON’T put it into the message). I'm guessing it won't (no, it won’t. But it also doesn’t make me all hot and wanting to tear your clothes off). If you ever want to do a pantyhose shoot, I could probably offer some great advice on poses, attire, etc (why don’t I just talk to any of a NUMBER of fetish photographers I know instead? THEY know what shoots well. You just want to get off).

Also, really cool that you volunteer with animals.


From: Hooli-Gin
Subject: RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:33:19 PM

The being use to getting yelled at in wrestling is completely different. Among other things I haven't wrestled in almost 3 years. And 9 times out of 10 we weren't in the same place at the same time while shooting promos. And my friends weren't personally attacking me for stuff I had no control over.

It's just a pun on my nickname which is Hooli (short for hooligan). I don't really even drink anymore so I should probably change it. lol.

I do pin up stuff mostly, but I prefer to be behind the camera recently. I have started getting into shooting abandoned houses. The closest I will be getting anytime soon to a fetish shoot is the album cover I am doing for a friends band. And that is more of a horror movie shoot. I prefer to have rigid control over where my image is used and doing fetish stuff while being a control freak is useless.


From: 4*******s
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 1:47:37 PM

Yeah, we all know wrestling is fake and you're all best of friends in the locker room and on their days off Sgt Slaughter is calling up the Iron Sheik and being like, "I just got a delightful new tea you simply must try." And the Sheik is all, "Sounds splendid, I'll pickup some truffles on the way." Sorry if that was a little old school, I haven't payed attention to wrestling in two and a half decades (That wasn’t “Old School” as you fucking termed it. That was a COMPLETE mockery of anything I had tried to explain to you and an insult to the 7 years of training and shit I went through. At this fucking point, just SHUT YOUR MOUTH and stop trying to sound cool by mouthing off about wrestling).

I have some pin up stuff here. Not much though, just 4 pictures/ pages from some 1950's playboys. I got the pictures at a yard sale I stumbled across while delivering beer, when I was the beer guy.

Hey, did the words "picture/ pages" make your mind flashback to the theme song from the old show with Bill Cosby? Mine did, and now the song is gonna be stuck in my head all day. (Not really. I don’t remember that show, and at this point, I think you are fucking retarded and I want to go back in time and ignore your initial message)

What's the band you're doing a shoot for? The abandon houses thing sounds pretty cool. I'd like to see them. I understand what you mean about having no control over fetish pictures, I see a lot of picture stealing. Although it's kind of hott that you're a control freak (If you want a dominatrix, go fucking pay for one. Seriously, if I beat the shit out of you, you AREN’T going to enjoy it. Mostly likely you will be in ICU and I will be in jail for the rest of my life. I am a control freak over my images because I use to work for the Department of Defense and I hold a security clearance.).


From: Hooli-Gin
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:12:42 PM

First of all, I wouldn't classify wrestling as fake. I live with severe and permanent nerve damage (that is slowly getting worse) on a daily basis because one single rudimentary move got messed up. Predetermined? Yes. Fake? No. Secondly, we are not all best friends. We have professional respect for one another since we have no choice and some of us are virtually family. You give up your entire life to initially train to wrestle and then nights and weekends to wrestle at shows. I have watched marriages dissolve and families implode because of the constant stress and effort to sustain a career.

The band I am shooting for is a metal band called Pillow Suffocation. It is named after a threat I'd used on the lead singer about why he and I shouldn't date. And I am not THAT form of a control freak.


From: 4*******s
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:23:15 PM

This isn't going well is it? (Congratulations Captain Obvious. You have insulted me enough that whatever MINISCULE desire I had to meet you on the off chance you might be cooler in person has evaporated into a large amount of contempt at your desire to inflate your ego by mocking a large part of my life.)


From: Hooli-Gin
Subject: RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:29:57 PM

It was the wrestling joke. I have been in excruciating pain for the past few days because I can't place full weight on my foot because I fractured my neck while wrestling. I have lost most of the feeling from my big toe to my ankle on the inside arch of my foot.

When I am in pain I lose my sense of humor. And I have no sense of humor to begin with (at least when it comes to wrestling).


From: 4*******s
Subject: RE:RE:Hi Sent Date: 7/27/2010 2:52:24 PM

Well, it's not like I knew you were in pain. Not really sure how you can't have a somewhat of a sense of humor when it comes to wrestling (*rolls eyes*), I mean, the way those people dress and act, and the little names they come up with for themselves (yeah asshole, it’s called a gimmick. It’s what we get paid to do). Let's not forget, Lou Albino stuck rubber bands to his face. C'mon, that's just silly. I'm not trying to imply that it doesn't take strength, skill and a sh*tton of practice (actually fucktard… yes, that’s EXACTLY what you DID imply). What I meant by fake was, if the moves aren't done properly, or if you pulled one of those moves in a street fight, you'd probably kill or paralyze somebody (I know. I live with that on a DAILY basis). Or when they punch, they're not punching at full strength (some of us come pretty damn close to punching at full strength. It’s called stiffing someone and I am an expert at it.), hence the foot stomping. And then there's the blood, which is most often fake blood capsules (Actually… This goes to show how little you know. It is usually REAL blood. With a REAL RAZOR BLADE. And they they get stitched up or glued together at the end.). That's what I mean by fake. If I'm wrong, I apologize. I haven't watched wrestling since the early 80's (Perhaps, you should have ASKED ME ABOUT IT THEN instead of TELLING me how shit was done!).

I remember watching an interview with Vince McMahon once. After Ted Turner bought his wrestling league, he called Vince and said, "guess what, I'm in the wrastling (rassling if you want to be a fucking MARK!) business now." To which Vince replied, I don't know anything about wrestling, I'm in the entertainment business (*sarcastic applause* Really???? Really??? Did you REALLY just throw a line out at me from “The Unreal History of Pro Wrestling?” I am WELL aware of what McMahon said. I know people who work for him) . I remember that because I liked Vince's approach. Also, Vince McMahon's death, fake (OMFG?!? REALLY???? I thought the dude I saw in the ring getting the shit kicked out of him while channel surfing a couple weeks ago was an honest to god ZOMBIE!). Maybe Andy Reid should try that.

It seems to me that if you were at all interested you would've come up with a question or two of your own (I would have if I didn’t feel like I was being NEEDLESSLY attacked and mocked, thereby needing to defend myself.). I appreciate you answering my questions and having a chat with me, but when you don't ask any questions yourself it tells me you don't care to know anything about me (I don’t care because you started showing your true colors.). Plus, it puts all of the pressure on me to make small talk. Like, I read these responses and think, I'm interested, but where do I go from here, what do I say next. (I’m really getting lectured on decorum by someone who has just spent the last how many emails INSULTING ME?!? Seriously… WHATEVER! Grow a set and realize that I am not going to act all interested in you when every message you sent was written in shades of DOUCHE BAG!)

I totally understand that I can be a really short tempered bitch. But at SOME POINT wouldn't it dawn on you, LONG before the whiny last message (like maybe the 3rd message?) that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I am not digging your fucking stupid comments about the wrestling business and that you need to try a different tactic?

At this point, after some of the messages I've received, and that my friends have received, I am going to just stay in my house in peace & quiet watching TV. I know I'll meet a Prince Charming some day, but unless he delivers pizza or Chinese food or works at the liquor store I doubt it will be any time soon. Oh, and BB has gone COMPLETELY AWOL. There is someone I just started talking to again, BUT that is for a completely different time.

Speed Dating, Serial Killers and Biker Boys… Or Why Do Guys Do Stupid Stuff:

Speed Dating:
My FIRST thought upon arriving at the Hyatt for the speed dating event was “WTF am I thinking?!?” I had been talking to this guy (The Biker Boy, for future reference) for a couple days and everything was going swimmingly. Needless to say, I felt a BIT awkward going to the speed dating thing because I already had a date planned with the Biker Boy for Saturday and I’d been talking to him all day via text and email. My second thought, as all the guys were filing in was “FUCK ME! I’m the tallest one here!” Yes, I was wearing heels, BUT I am fairly tall for a chick to begin with. It always freaks me out to be the tallest person, or even if I am wearing flats, NEARLY the tallest person.

We did this weird game/ice breaker/mingling thing once the majority of people got there. Yeah. This requires me to remember people’s names. That is NOT a good thing. I am HORRIBLE with names. I also didn’t tell the friend I was with that I have agoraphobia and I know how other people view me (I’m VERY bouncy at times and I don’t always understand social cues). I was definitely a bit panicked about the whole thing. It was definitely fun talking to some of the people so I actually started to look forward to the actual speed date/one on one part of it. Once the final 2 guys showed up (they were actually taller than me in heels) the ladies were seated with one guy from the 10. So here is what I remember of the guys:

Bachelor #1: My initial reaction was that he was a bit too “Jersey Shore” for my tastes. This was shortly followed by… “Why the fuck is he wearing a black & white buffalo plaid shirt that looks to be a smidge too small? Oh. He wants to show off his impressive physique. *eye roll* Yup… Gotta LOVE steroids. Oh shit. He is the FIRST one I get to deal with. Please God, I know I only come to you when I really need something but please, please, please don’t let this guy be as fucking stupid as I think he is going to be.” We introduce ourselves and he is now looking distinctly uncomfortable. Do I have tooth paste on my cheek? BO? *sigh* This blows. “So… what do you do?” “I’m a personal trainer” “Wow. Somehow THAT doesn’t surprise me.” He manages to MISS my sarcasm. I’m NOT sure how but… ok. And then we get to the crux of the matter. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude… My psycho ex-girlfriend found out I was going to be here and showed up. With her new boyfriend. Who works as a stripper at Risque. That she always use to compare me to while we were dating. This is HUGELY awkward, and I’m really sorry.” In situations like that I did the only thing I could. Laughed my ass off. *Ding* Times up… which leads us to:

Bachelor #2: Did I remember to mention Bachelor #1 brought his BROTHER!?! Yeah. Cause speed dating isn’t awkward enough. Lol. And part of B1 and my convo was how his brother JUST drove back from West Palm. Lovely. So this guy and I have something in common. Nice. But he does have the forehead and build of a caveman (I’m use to wrestlers so I guess that KINDA makes him my style). He also has the apparent brain power of a 2x4. Actually no, that’s kind of cruel. He was in the same situation as his brother, being that all he knew about the now infamous ex was what his brother old him. And something tells me his brother was as much to blame for the craziness. We did in fact have driving styles and minor things like that in common. And we started to discuss how neither brother had any animosity towards the new boyfriend But then… *ding* Gah! My curiosity will never be appeased.

Bachelor #3: This poor guy never stood a chance. Why??? Because the maybe new boyfriend got ALL sorts of screwed up and thought he was meeting me next and I’m a gossip. Yeah. I really can’t remember much other than… Um. Ahhhhhhh…. *ding*

Bachelor #4: The new boyfriend. Who according to him isn’t dating her, they are just friends. Wait. Let me go back to the beginning. He sits down, introduces himself and says: “I am the supposedly new boyfriend. What have they been saying about me? Do they hate me??? I tried getting info from the girls before you but none of them would talk.” So I told him the truth. They didn’t hate him (they were running on that whole “bro’s before ho’s” think which I find alternatingly irritating and beneficial depending on the situation) but they did think that what she did was VERY fucked up. I did not follow the chicks before dicks rule (most of my friends are guys so I tend to side with them) and I definitely agree with the guys on this one. I really enjoyed bullshitting with B4 and he is someone I could see myself hanging out with or whatever. Not so much dating him tho.

Bachelor #5: Oh lord! My ex-roommate Britt use to have this saying about “nice guys”: “I eat nice guys for breakfast. They are my main source of fiber.” B5 fit this description. He was a very nice guy (admittedly with an annoyingly high voice) who wouldn’t have survived a date with me. We did have a lot in common but I can’t see him reacting well to me losing my temper. I throw things when I get pissed. And I scream. And I generally turn into a RAGING bitch. With me you have to either have the balls to tell me to shut the fuck up, or the brains to just roll. If you get in my way, it gets SUPER ugly. If you try to “fix” stuff in my life it gets even uglier. So, unfortunately, while I’d love to get a beer with him and talk web design, I doubt he’d be able to separate a “date” from “hanging out and bullshitting with someone as a friend”.

Bachelor #6: How can people who are so different all start blending together? Cause that’s what started happening by now. I have a SUPER short attention span (surprising I know!) and at this point I’m ready to just wander off. H. was a REALLY nice guy, but he was excessively short and like the rest, I’d get a kick out of going to have a beer, but not so much on the dating department.

Bachelor #7: This one was even shorter. He was a civil engineer on the Commodore Barry Bridge project. He was one of a group of 3 coworkers who apparently pre-gamed HARDCORE before the event.

Bachelor #8 & #9: They were equally drunk and holy hell they made the speed dating worth the price of admission. Lol. One stood up and started screaming that the coworker I was with was a Steelers fan and it was hysterical. They were both drinking whiskey on the rocks and were totally not serious about the whole situation. My face hurt by the end of talking to these guys.

Bachelor #10: I know I am no great beauty, not model skinny, and probably have more baggage than Louis Vuitton, but to have this guy look at the host and say “aren’t we done yet?” FUCK THAT SHIT! Seriously, he was scrawny, twitchy, and pretentious. I don’t care that he has a boat, an apartment at dockside and a house elsewhere. He asked me the same damn question 3 times, didn’t meet my eye, and bolted as soon as we were done. I have better things to do to be treated like shit by some douche bag. Whatever….

Everyone stuck around at the very end, some of us went out and smoked. Bachelor #2 proved he was a royal dick. Bummed a cigarette, then took 2 out of my pack. *rolls eyes* Hot, and knows it. Thinks a bird is going to fall all over herself for the honor of his attention. I’d rather masturbate with a rusty cheese grater than EVER go out with that asshat. People like that are part of the reason I have been single for so long and are a large part of the reason I rarely leave my house anymore.

The TRUE entertainment started in the hotel bar when some drunk dude decided to try to hook me up with his friend. Don’t get me wrong, the friend was VERY good looking, but the entire situation was a bit strange. Thank god my coworker had to roll, because it gave me an excuse to bail too. I got onto the train to head home and proceeded to start texting with the Biker Boy who I had been talking with almost constantly for the last week. I was half shot in the ass because I haven’t been sleeping lately, and for some reason the walk to my car was a hell of a lot scarier than usual… I got home safe, but I’d called B.B. on the way which leads us to:

The Biker Boy:
There is not much I can say about this as a critique since whatever we have together is still in the process of playing itself out. I guess the best way I can describe it is “complicated”. B.B. is an AWESOME guy. I really dig him. He is one of the first guys I’ve met in a long time that I would date and NOT feel like my life was being spent taking care of him and worrying about him. But BB also drives me fucking nuts. I guess he doesn’t realize how self-sufficient I am, or expects me to be one of those stupid birds who thinks his life begins and ends with me. Which, given the number of idiots I’ve run into on PoF, doesn’t surprise me. He also has the habit of going *poof* gone. Yeah, and I am neurotic, so him going AWOL for a week (which he just did) drives me batshit crazy. But I am going to give the highlights of why I dig him so much, and why I turned down a guy that I TOTALLY adore:

~ He is super protective and not in a stupid, “You’re a helpless chick” sort of way. There is this neighbor Jay I have, that like a year ago I drank like 2 bottles of wine and hooked up with. Now the guy won’t leave me alone, telling me he is so in love with me and that I broke his heart by disappearing (he has SUPER bad breath and dude smells like death, I wonder why I disappeared when I sobered up). Last weekend I was taking some trash out and getting some herbs from my garden when my neighbor O and I started going back and forth about the fact that I was wearing a white teeshirt (and since it was hot as hell I hadn’t put on a bra after I got home from work). To my horror all of a sudden I hear “Puuuuuuuuunk!!!!!” I some how managed to miss that Jay was in Ben’s yard. *sigh* Fuck me gently with a chain saw. Then it became a rapid-fire clusterfuck of stupid questions and whining. Really! Jay asked me what I was doing and if I lived at my house (my reply was: no, I am in some strangers fucking garden picking their fucking herbs, OF COURSE I FUCKING LIVE HERE!) . Then he starts with the whining about why do I hate him. Probably the fact that I have repeatedly told him NOT to fucking call me Punk, and that I don’t hate him, I want to be left the hell alone!

This is my issue with the entire situation… There was a REASON this douche bag never knew where I lived. Because every time I am forced to deal with him I feel like I need witness protection. Seriously, I told one of the captains of the Florence PD that I would set the motherfucker up (he has to be the most incompetent drug dealer EVER! I told him I don’t use ANYTHING and he continuously pushes me on if I will use *insert drug name here*) as long as they promise to lock him up so I don’t have to deal with him! Three of my neighbors are drug deals… I would NEVER sell them out (one of them is actually doing it to pay his wife’s college tuition). I hate this motherfucker THAT much.

I am actually kind of scared about the fact that this guy and his cousins now know where I live. I live by myself and other than a collection of knives near my bed, I have VERY little means of protection. When I told B.B. about all of this, all he said was “If he fucks with you, I will take care of it.” I’m pretty sure the dead serious look in his eyes explained it all. I am waiting until the day the Serial Killer calls and I am with B.B.

~ He can deal with my sarcastic comments without getting all stupid about it. We managed to get into the worlds STUPIDEST argument the night of our first date (which was supposed to be on a Saturday but ended up be the day after the speed dating). It was hot out and I decided I wanted to go to the movies. Reasonable especially because I have no AC except in my bedroom and I am tired of being stuck in one room of my house. I was on the train home and suggested that B.B. and I meet in Woodbridge to see a movie since its half way between us. Then he started… telling me to just come to his house (did I mention he lives an hour and a half away?????) and I can just stay at his house and blah, blah, blah. Then I got pissed. Why the FUCK do I have to do all of the driving?? That seriously doesn’t seem fair. Plus there seems to be the mistaken impression that he is getting a piece of ass.

Then the truth FINALLY comes out. He had stuff he has to do for the MC before he heads out to meet me and he didn’t want me waiting all damn night. *sigh* This is the point in time that I tell him he is stupid and is an ass. We would have saved a good 20 min of arguing, and me getting stressed & pissed off if he had just said that in the first damn place. I did end up going to his house, and we went out on the bike up to some little strange town in NY state (it was a weird preppy twilight zone). We had a great time and I did end up crashing at his house because I would have fallen asleep on the drive home.

~ He thinks I’m a good person because his dog doesn’t like to leave my side when I am up there. Most guys I know would get all weird about the fact their dog looks to me before they listen to a command. B.B. just takes it as his dog is a good judge of character.

~ He opens car doors for me. But he was also surprised when we went for pet food that I told him to give me his keys so I could open the trunk for him. Its more of a partnership than me being spoilt.

Like I said though, I don’t know where this is going to lead because there are 2 separate parts of B.B.’s life, and when you keep me in the dark on shit I get very, very nervous. But I do want to see where this ride goes. This is a guy who fits most the things I want in a guy.

The Serial Killer… Or “How bad of a Judge of Character am I?”:
Ahhhhhhh… Where the FUCK do I start with this one? When I started to talk to C originally he seemed super cool. Like a little too cool, actually. We decided that we were going to go to NYC on the 4th for our first date, and I was really looking forward to it. But then he got weird when I wasn’t comfortable giving him my number. It’s my goddamn cell phone, and to be totally honest, I am not in the mood to have to change my number because of some psycho-twinkie. When I finally did give him my number, I told him POINTBLANK that I cannot STAND talking on the phone and the fastest way to piss me off is to call me. So what does he do… FUCKING CALLS ME! Then he calls me back and leaves another voicemail (I think they are an even bigger waste of time that being stuck in one damn place in my house to talk on the phone) apologizing for calling me when I am at work, and that he is really sorry for bothering me and… *face-palm* FUCK! I am dealing with another pussy! Maybe 4 days after I start talking to him, I get a voicemail (did I mention he would call me 4 or 5 times a day even after I asked him not to?) of him whining that he had a rough day and to please call him cause he “needs” to hear my voice. Holy hell! Did I mention that this dude apparently is a TOTAL pussy?????? I don’t want to hear that you NEED me 4 days after we start talking. Maybe after 4 months… 4 years would be preferable.

As the planning for the date continues, it becomes much more complicated. Suddenly, he needs to stay at my house because his car isn’t working so he is taking the bus up. I am really not sure how I feel about that one, because I am neurotic about people knowing where I live. Those who know me well know why. I have friends I have known for 7 & 8 years who still have never been to my house. But I tell him it is ok, because I didn’t know what else to say. He pretty much invited himself over. And I am about to start scrambling for an out because he has made a comment about hooking up with me and my part-time roommate and he seems to think he is allowed to hold all my time hostage.

At some point around now, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I decided to find him on MySpace. It’s NOT like it was THAT hard. Find his band, find the band members and… Wait???? WTF????? He’s ENGAGED?!? For the shits and giggles, I add him anyway. I wanted to see what he would do. After he accepts my request, he suddenly becomes single. So let me get this shit straight… You COMPLETELY forget about your status for over a year, until I find your Facebook too, and then call you out on your bullshit. I was born at night… But not last fucking night. I don’t fuck around with shit like that. I was the other woman for… almost 10 years. It got me no where, and nothing except a very warped view of dating. I don’t buy the line that he “forgot” because it was a super bad break-up.

And the more I told my neighbors Jess & O, and the more they gave me their opinions on everything, the more I realized that this was a potentially bad situation. At one point, when I was thinking on just meeting C in Philly (I had already scheduled my tattoo appointment which ensured I wasn’t going to get super stupid and agree to meet him Coney Island, a place that is HIS stomping grounds not mine), he said in response to me telling him I didn’t trust him any further than I could throw him “You will trust me as soon as you meet me.” He also started texting and calling me constantly when I said I wanted to be left the fuck alone. It hit the point where he was DEMANDING I call him that we “needed to talk” (no, I NEED to die and pay taxes. If I can get out of either of them I fucking will!). I was dealing with other stuff in my life and the last thing I really wanted was more drama. At one point I was so fed up, I started telling someone I had met on a different dating site (and who has expressed on multiple occasions that he wants to take me home) what was going on, and his comment when I told him the “You’ll trust me” line was, “Yeah, You’d trust him as soon as he slips the roofie into your drink. You’d be seriously stupid to meet this guy anywhere, and this is coming from someone who would jump your bones as soon as I saw you.”

Um…. Yeah. So this guy went from being super cool, to being called Chuck 2.0 (a reference to my ex-psychotwinkie who is the entire reason I can’t stand spineless pussies), to being referred to as the Serial Killer. Everyone I spoke to about this dude was convinced that if I ever went out with him, I would NEVER come back. And he still calls me occasionally, demanding I call him.

Why?!?

All I can ask is WTF was this guy thinking????

I like boys in cars...

I'm not sure why (ok, PROBABLY the fact that I was listening to it on my way to work) Lady Gaga's "BoysBoysBoys" (*hands in BOTH her punk rock and metal badges*) is stuck in my head but at least it reminded me to FINALLY post this totally winning message I received...

He does seem to be VERY tattooed (something I am TOTALLY into), he is passably cute, he does seem like he could be a lot of fun...

HOWEVER he also probably would probably drive me nuts because he gives the appearance of being dumb as a stump. The second message, amazingly, is even worse.

I still need to write up everything that went wrong with the "Serial Killer", I am going to a speed dating event tonight with a co-worker, and I have a date with someone on Saturday. Hopefully the blogs won't be as few and far between...

The New Man in My Life

Miss Eleanor Barnes of the Seaman's Institute once remarked, "Some people pour out their colorful stories to juries. Others relieve the tension by writing for the confession magazines. The sailor enlists the tattooers needle upon his own body in dull blues, vivid reds, greens and yellows to record the story of his loves and hates, his triumphs, his religion, and his patriotism."

Btw, my mother is going to SHOOT ME!

You don't know SIHT about SIHT and PULL UP YOUR PANTS!

In a fit of insanity/stupidity/need to be punished for unknown transgressions, I decided to remove the age filter on my Plenty of Fish profile. And THIS is the shit I receive when I am THAT stupid:

hi there, your (<--- *sigh* poor grammar is SO sexy) a cuttie (See reference point 1), and dont live to (GAH! FUCK! What do my property taxes actually go for these days??? Apparently not teaching people how to get a grip of the English language) far, would like to talk to u (*crawls under desk whimpering and crying*) and get to know u better, (OH MY FUCKING GOD! What did a period ever do to you, so that you decide to completely BOYCOTT using one?) do u have an aol or yahoo screen name (does no one except my select group of friends use gChat? Has Google and my droid phone taken over my life THAT badly? I mean it does contain a MTA subway map with convenient gps locater, my shopping lists organized by aisle, an app with drink recipes, it will tell me what song is on, and tell me how many miles I've walked AND calories burned but... FUCK! Google HAS taken over my life!)? hope to talk to you soon (you are more likely to find a chicken with teeth like a Velociraptor, that you are to get a response from me)!

(1)

CUTTIE
Etymology: From cut.
Noun
Singular: cuttie
Plural: cutties

cuttie (plural cutties)

1. (slang, surfing) Short for a cutback.
2. (colloquial) A t-shirt that has had the sleeves removed.
3. (Scottish) Alternative spelling of cutty. Someone or something common and short or small.
4. (Scottish, archaic) A hare.
5. (Scottish, archaic) The Black Guillemot.


Oh wait... you meant CUTIE! A term that is so hated in my book that the last person who used it casually in my direction came VERY close to getting beaten to death. The only thing that saved them was that I use to work for the department of defense. I waited a LONG time to get my clearance and I don't want to lose it. Plus... my finger prints are on file. I'd be ID'ed immediately if I did do anything.

To cover my thoughts on this clusterfuck of a message, I must paraphrase the great Denis Leary (LOVE HIM!)... "You are 25 years old. You don't know SHIT ABOUT SHIT! And PULL UP YOUR PANTS!"

The latest about the date that will NEVER happen (my safety is key and when I have had 3 people in 1 day tell me in various way that I will end up on the back of a milk carton, I know I am in DEEP shit!) to be posted when I get a chance.