Crazy McCrazy aka Jodi Arias

I’ve become obsessed with the trial of Jodi Arias. I’m not one to watch court t.v, I’m not even a fan of those divorce court shows or Judge Judy but hot damn have I become really obsessed with this crazy heffer. I’ll wake up early just so I can watch the recap from what I missed the day before, which usually includes commentaries from other attorneys. I’ve been trying to be a good student and do my homework but on the days that court is in session (I could totally be a lawyer) you can find me wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito, sitting on the couch watching this idiot basically tie her own noose on the stand.

Haven't heard about this crazy heffer? Here, let me tell you about her. Jodi meets Travis Alexander, she breaks up with her then boyfriend at the time almost immediately and right away they have a sexual relationship. Basically, she becomes his "bed friend." Two months after meeting him she then converts to the Mormon faith (he was Mormon, fyi) and has him baptize her, because that's what people do when they're in the "bed friend" kind of relationship. About a year later they become official for about a month before he realizes how bat shit crazy she is and they break up. All the while she continues to stalk him, stalk his dates and even slashes a couple of tires. Of course she hasn't admitted to any of this. She claims they were friends so she felt it was totally normal to not knock on the front door but instead creep around the back, peek in a glass door and run off when she saw him making out with a girl on his couch. After they had broken up. And then calls him the next day to talk about it. Once again, they were broken up. Anywho, it all comes to end when she stabs him about 27 times, cuts his throat so deep he's nearly decapitated and just to make sure he's not coming back as a zombie, shoots in him the head. I don't know if that's why she shot him, just my guess.

She seems like the type of person that likes to hear herself speak. When her attorney questioned her on the stand it took them 8 really long, boring days for her to tell the jury about her life from her early childhood up until the point she murdered the poor guy. The defense would ask a simple yes or no question and this fool would ramble on for 10 minutes about the tiniest and most pointless details. “Oh, and then we went to Starbucks and I got a whatever Latte with ice and the sky was blue and birds were singing.” Meanwhile I’m like, what was the question he asked her? Oh, he wanted to know how she found out he was seeng other women.

She claaaaaaaaims that he gave her consent to read his email...
Yeah, I'm rolling my eyes too.

It’s also interesting how the defense is making this poor guy seem like an abusive, sexual deviant. According to Jodi, Travis beat her, he made fun of her and used her for sex. But the funny thing about it all, every time her attorney would ask something like, "And how did you feel when he would ask you to perform oral sex on him and then leave right after you gave him fallacio?" Jodi turns the jury, shrugs her shoulders and says, "I wasn't upset." For the record, fallacio is a funny word. As funny as it is to watch a grown man say fallacio with a complete straight face, I think the best moment so far was when the State entered Jodi's personal journals as evidence and had her read aloud a few entries that ended with "I love Travis Alexander so much!"

Yep, this is what I’m doing with my free time. You should totally watch it tomorrow morning on Tru Tv and then we can gossip about it. And we can totally make fun of her stupid hair and glasses.

                                                           

Snow Day

Remember those days when you were a kid and you would wake up to a magical wonderland of snow just outside your house. The best part was that it would happened on a school day and you would sit next to the radio (for those of you old enough to remember what a radio was and I don’t mean Pandora. Oh Jesus, I’m old), still in your jammies, excitement coursing through your entire annoying body as you waited on the radio d.j. to announce that your school is closed for the day. You hear the name of your school and suddenly you’re filled with so much energy that you’re simultaneously jumping around the house, screaming at the top of your lungs and scrambling to get dressed so you can play in the snow. All the while mom is in the kitchen crying silent tears as she pours some booze into her coffee to make the day a little more bearable.

So true...

Today is a snow day, sort of. Right now it’s a combination of snow and ice falling from the heavens. The local news channel has been announcing any cancellations with schools and businesses in town and while a majority of people on Facebook are pretty stoked, I am not. I work on a military base and normally when there are few snow flakes most personnel get to leave early or not come in at all. That’s because they are considered “non essential.” Guess what this chick’s job position is labeled as. You got it, I am considered “essential personnel.” So, while everyone is all “OMG SNOW AND HOT CHOCOLATE AND FREE DAY!” I’m at work, disgruntled and hoping it doesn’t get too bad because I’m not in the mood to drive in this shenanigans at midnight. I’m still slightly traumatized from the mini blizzard we had on Christmas day.

Yes, I know I’m coming off as a bitter woman. You can’t really blame me. While everyone is off galavanting and sledding in the snow, I’m trapped at work reading about all the fun everyone is having and seeing all the snow pictures on Facebook. If you were to drive by my work you would probably see me, hands pressed against the window with a single tear rolling down my face.

**Edit

So, the town freaked out over nothing. The weather guy got everyone all excited and hyped up for nothing. Tiny little snow flurries came and went, there may be some ice on the way home but I can deal with that. I’m still bitter that some jerks got to go home early.

Peeps got to go home early for this...

                                                                

I'M ALIVE

Sorry home fries that I haven't been posting much. I've kind been in a funk lately. Not like that oh holy Jesus she smells kind of funk. I bathe on the daily, thank you very much. Just haven't been feeling like doing anything lately. Most of my time is split between work, school, pretending I don't have homework and flipping between the trial of Jodi Arias and HORRIBLE Lifetime movies. You know the kind, it's about a woman that's being stalked by her dentist while trying to keep her teenage daughter from having sex too young all the while she dates various rich men after the mysterious death of her really old husband. Yeah, I've seen about 15 of those the past two weeks.

Anywho, that's kind of been my life and why I haven't posted. Nothing to report or any goofy stories to regal you with. Instead, we're going to pretend this is Tumblr while I post this gifs I found on the interwebs while I was "doing homework."

How I feel a lot of the time

I can't help it...I love this movie too much.

His dance moves gives me the creeps. Reminds me of my Mattie friend.

Oh Danny DeVito...

I feel like this a lot of the time too..

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia..One of the BEST shows ever

Life could be worse...I could be a Trex with tiny arms

I totally want to do this..NOA

Gym Rat

A Planet Fitness opened in my area and after seeing the commercials claiming it’s a judgment free zone, I promptly cancelled my membership at another popular gym chain and signed up there. I didn’t really like going to the other gym because every time I went there was always that one chick that was mega fit and running in her stupid sports bra and short shorts and flat stomach. Bitch. Or that other person that just makes the whole gym feel awkward when you hear them grunting all the way from the free weight room. I don’t mean like a small grunt, I mean like HULK SMASH types of grunts.

One time my bestie and I decided to hit up the gym. It was fairly late in the evening and we thought we were the only two there. So naturally, instead of using the machines and actually working out, we were busy playing with the hula hoops and throwing the giant exercise balls at each other. In the midst of giggling and tossing giant balls at each other we discovered we were not alone. At first I thought I was just hearing things but the look on besties face confirmed she heard it to. It was this loud, manly grunt. This was the type of grunt you would hear from one of those really big, burly men when they toss those GIANT tires. Did we peak around the corner to see if someone was actually there? Nope, instead we ran to the nearest machine and pretended that we were actually doing something. The loud grunting continued for several minutes until it got REALLY quiet back there.

I turned to look behind me and you will not believe who walked out of the free weight room. Not this big, burly Gaston from Beauty and the Beast looking guy, oh no. Instead, the grunt loving person that walked out was this short, almost scrawny OLD LADY. You might be thinking, “Oh Rosie, just because a person is slightly older than you doesn’t mean she’s an old lady.” Guys, bestie can confirm this, but when I say old lady I mean like your grandmother, old lady. Bingo loving, cookie baking, hugs and red lipstick kissing grandma. Instead, this one probably listens to death metal and punches babies for fun.

I'm pretty sure this was her.

                                                                    

Anyway, so as I was saying years ago, I signed up at Planet Fitness since it’s a judgment free zone. A friend from work said I should try out the Arc machine; it’s like the demonic elliptical but not as intense. I waited until I was alone to give it a try seeing as how I seem to make an ass of myself quite frequently. I lasted about 5 minutes before my legs turned to jelly and thought, nope. Done. (Just a side note, I had already done a pretty intense work out before testing this machine out). As I was stepping off the machine I noticed that my right foot was stuck in the little cup part. My left leg was having issues on its own while I was trying to rescue the right one, so I basically looked like a baby horse walking for the first time. Except I was hanging on to the bars of the machine, one leg on the verge of giving out from under me and the other still stuck in the damn cup. I swear, alcohol did not play a part in this whole incident. Then I spent a few minutes on the AHMAHZING hydro massage bed and called it night.  

So, this is how I looked at the gym, twisted legs and all. Just not as cute and endearing as the baby elephant.

It's the Most Cranky Time of the Year

It’s that time of year again. If you know anyone that’s a practicing Catholic then you know what I’m talking about. I’m not really that religious, the last time I went to mass was probably when I was 12, however once a year I feel the obligation to give something up for Lent. I used to be a jerk about it and gave up something I didn’t really care for, thus making the following 40 days a breeze. One year I mentioned my genius plan to a fellow (and incredibly devout) Catholic who in turn lectured me on the reason for the season. Basically, I’m suppose to give up something that I really, really enjoy because the almighty Jesus gave up his life for me, yadda yadda yadda. Just to clarify, I’m not really that religious, I believe in God and all that wonderful stuff but haven’t cracked open the bible since my almost Confirmation.

And now that song is stuck in your head and I'm like YOU JUST GOT RICK ROLLED, BITCH!

One year I gave up soda. May not seem like a big deal to anyone but this chick was OBSESSED with the bubbly, sugary goodness, especially Dr. Pepper. What do you think happened the day after I announced this to my sweet and super supportive mother? That devil woman stocked up the fridge with nothing but Dr. Pepper. She claimed it was an "accident". Accident my ass! I was the only one in the house that drank that sweet nectar from the GODS!

Last year, I gave up the sweet stuff. You guys know about my love of the store bought cakes. If not, here’s the link. Basically, if there is a baked good nearby you can bet your ass I’m standing next to it with an empty plate in my hands and frosting on my face. I was surprised when devil woman mom didn’t buy out the Little Debbie snack aisle and leave everything on the kitchen counter for me to make sad faces at as I slowly walked away, occasionally glancing over my shoulder at what could have been. Instead, when she came home from a friends BBQ or party or office potluck she would come to my room, hold the plate of goodies to my face and point out all the wonderful, delicious sweets to my face and tell me how yummy they were. And then would tell me she was going to leave them on the kitchen counter. TEMPTRESS! She's also really good at tricking me on Good Friday. Nothing like smelling steak, or chicken or some meaty German dish cooking on the stove and her casually mentioning, "Oh, dinner is ready." Only to wait until the fork has left my mouth before hearing her scream, "HA! IT'S GOOD FRIDAY AND YOU'RE EATING MEAT!"

This year, I’m back to my slacker ways. Lent snuck up on me and I couldn’t figure something to give up quick enough and mom casually mentioned I should piss everyone off by giving up baking. Guys, not only do I eat the sweet stuff, I also love to bake it. Mainly, I love to bake cupcakes because well, damnit cupcakes are adorable. About 5 minutes after I made my announcement to the world (or what everyone calls Facebook) I had the following conversation with my mom:

Me- Does it count as baking if I just take the cinnamon rolls out of the Pillsbury container and just toss them in the oven?

Mom- What do the cinnamon rolls do in the oven?

Me- Get yummy?

Mom- No, they bake.

5 minutes into Lent and already failing. Maybe I should just copy the Pope and give up my job for Lent. (BADACHA! Or was that joke too soon?)





Shut Your Trap

I’m not the quietest (or graceful) person on the planet. I’m sure it has something to do with the time my little brother was born and he sucked all the attention away from me. Oh look at the cute baby wearing his lederhosen! Aw, the cute little baby says he wants to be an arteeest when he grows up! Look at the sweet little baby with that really angry looking little girl. You may be thinking that I’m joking when I said I looked angry but trust me there’s evidence.

Over the holidays my brother and I decided a fun Christmas gift for our mom would be a photo recreate. You take a picture from your childhood and, well, you recreate it. As we combed through a billion family albums we noticed that every single picture of brother was him smiling and looking happy. Every single picture of me I was sulking, glaring or just generally being unhappy. I don’t mean like one or two, I mean every. Single. One. Out of a billion photo albums. We eventually found one where I had a smile on my face. I would show you the pictures of me glaring but I would rather not. Mostly because I’ll have to go digging in those albums again which will then cause me to send mass text messages to my brother of all the pictures that make me laugh. Like the one that looks like my dad is trying to drown baby brother in a tub while baby brother has a huge smile on his face.  

Well, it appears I’ve gotten a little off topic. I’m just trying to lay the ground work to let you know I’m not very quiet when I talk. Usually, when I’m conversating with my dear mother she has to tell me to quiet down. I can’t help it, I’m still fighting for the attention my brother savagely took from me in my youth. So, back to the story.

Today, I had to take an exam at the computer lab on campus. This was for one of my online classes and it’s still baffling me that a test that is open notes/open book had to be proctored on campus. I mean the purpose of these online classes is so I can sit at home, in my rubber duckie jamies and do my assignments/ tests in bed. So I get to campus and I’m sitting in the computer lab and waiting on the computer lab assistant to come back and enter some super secret squirrel password so I can take my exam. I look around and notice about 4 or 5 other people quietly taking their exams. All the while in my head I’m thinking, “Ha! Suckers, my teacher is letting me use my book.” I start my test and question one already makes me feel dumb. I pick up my book and that’s when it happens. It was like this LOUD but really slow motion turn of events.

The book jumps out of my hands. Yes, you read that correctly. It jumped out of my hands and I swear I heard a tiny voice yell “FREEEEEEEDOM!” before it hit the keyboard, bounced off the desk and then landed on the floor with an incrediably loud THUD, which was followed by a really tiny, “ow.” Every single person in that tiny room stopped working on their exams and turned to stare/glare at me.

Not akward at all.





Me and baby brother now. I guess he can stay.



Just tilt your head to the right because I'm computer stupid and can't get this to rotate.
Also, I have no idea why I have a cane. No one does. I 've asked.
Not sure why baby brother looks like a thug either.





Drunk Monkey

As you guys know, I'm not the greatest when it comes to writing. Usually my brain is too fast for my fingers and then I get all excited about posting that I just automatically hit submit without proof reading. Also, I'm a total bad ass so I don't NEED to proof read. Suck on that high school English teacher.

When it comes to texting that's just a whole different story. I'm glad that I have the friends I do because they understand me. Even when I send them a jumbled mess of letters and numbers, on occassion hoots and clicks, they some how know the crazy message I'm trying to convey. So, that's what I'm going to share with you, my dear readers, my auto-correct fails. And also some drunk texts sent by my super amazing, super drunk friend Mattie. I asked and he said he didn't want a code name. Just want to put that out there.

Without further adieu, I present the mess of Rosie texting like a drunk monkey and Mattie the amazing drunk texter!

I want to direct your attention to the message that reads "Meh brain is Luke MORNING ADDJOLE." I passed out shortly after sending that and didn't realize what I sent until I strolled into work the next day and "Chris" asked me what I meant. I read it, laughed and had to admit I had no freaking idea. After using some very pricey and lengthy decoding equipment and programs it's been determined that I meant to say "Meh, my brain is like MORNING ASSHOLE." Which makes sense. Oddly enough. Also, ignore the rest of the message, we cheated over the weekend, suck it. The eggroll was worth it.

The next set of messages are from Mattie. It was late on New Years and I spent about 3 hours giggling over the messages he sent. I love you, Mattie.

What can I say, he's super fantastic at snapping.

Sometimes it doesn't have to make sense.

There were previous messages about me convincing him to order said pizza. He said he was too drunk, I said I would order it for him, and then he used the interwebs to do it, only to lose the pizza when the guy delivered it. It's ok, the doritos were safe.

I'm the idiot in green...

This message was from a potential someone who despite me saying "Good smirking" instead of "good morning" like a normal girl with crush and making a complete ass of myself (or falling if you want to be techinical. Also for the record, there was no alchol when said incident happened) on one of our dates, still wants to see me.

So there you have it. Be thankful if I don't have your number and text you late at night sounding like a hot drunk mess, when in fact I'm completely sober.

Drum Roll Please......

Today is finally here!! I know you guys have been super antsy all week just waiting for today. You marked your calendars, set your alarms and alienated all your family member’s as you just sat in front of the computer waiting on this post. All the while I’m like, I guess I’ll study a little more, nap a little and bake some cupcakes for work. Then I realized I was running late for work and sped all the way and now you’re thinking, OH MY GOD LADY JUST DO IT ALREADY.

Ok, fine! I guess now would be a good time to announce the winner of the deadliest weapon Nerf gun. I just want to say, before I announce the winner, that you guys are ALL winners in my eyes. Unfortunately, I only have one Nerf gun and a pack of Nerf bullets to give away. Maybe one day if I win the lottery I’ll buy all of you Nerf guns.

Ok, here goes…drum roll please….



And the winner is...

UNSWEETENED TEA!

Congratulations!!!

Enjoy using your little ones for target practice, letting your little ones play with it.

I Don't Need Pants

Before I regale you with my next tale of complete embarrassment I feel that I need to make a little bit of a disclaimer. Parental units, if you are reading this I’m sorry for bringing shame upon the family. My bad.

When I was the young age of 23 I decided to explore this big world and participated in a study abroad program. My decision was completely last minute so it had to be somewhere that primarily spoke English. I originally thought Germany, I grew up there, was a native speaker when I was younger, and had family there. However since moving to the states when I was 12 my German was limited to “Ja,” nodding and smiling and eavesdropping on other German speakers. London was crazy expensive but just three hours away was a small country called Wales.

A few months into my new adventure my new friends and I made plans for my 24^th birthday. It involved seeing Beauty and the Beast by some touring company and then enjoying the bars on Wind Street. So, I’m going to skip the blah blah blah part. The play was awesome and a few peeps had to go because they were all responsible and had homework to do. The rest of us though, drank. And I mean we drank A LOT. By The time we decided to go home the bars were shutting down and we had to walk up this small hill to the taxi station. Since there were four of us we tried to find other students that lived in the student village so that we could save on the cab ride. And by find other students I mean drunkenly harass them. And by we, I mean me. It kind went something like this:

“HEY! HEY! HEY KID! Are you going to the village?” I’m also pointing at this kid even after my parents repeatedly told me that pointing was rude.

“Oh, uh, no,” He says as he’s ushering this tiny, skinny blonde chick into a cab.

“What?! You liar! I see you there ALL THE TIME!” Still pointing and now accusing someone I don’t know of lying.

“Oh, no you must have me confused with someone else.” Now he’s trying to get in the cab without me and friends.

“But duuuuuuuuuuuude! The cab ride will be soooooooo cheap if we share it! It’ll be split 6 ways!” I try to reason with him but instead I sound like a whiny baby. A drunk, cheap, whiny baby.

At this point he jumps in the cab and closes the door with such force I’m a tiny bit offended. One of the girls says “whatever” and that we can totally find more students from the village over at the taxi stand by that other club that’s a few streets over. We stumbled for what seemed like an eternity until we made it to the next taxi stand and guess what. There were NO STUDENTS. None! I bet that one guy texted everyone else to watch out for gaggle of drunk girls, 2 American, 1 British and 1 Welsh.

After we get a cab and make it the village we decided that we’re totally starving. Lucky for us there was a tiny fast food place right in the student village. Unfortunately for us it’s on top of the tiny convenience store with this stairs that are so steep that even sober people trip up and down them. I don’t remember the next part. Apparently I made it up the stairs, ordered food, took pictures with random kids I didn’t know, ate my food and made it safely down the stairs. This next part I do remember.

I made it back to my room and didn’t realize how loud I was muttering to myself until my dear, sweet roommate told me the next day. I walked into my room and was suddenly hit with Africa in the middle of summer heat because my bi-polar heater randomly turned on while I was gone. And here is a summarized version of the conversation I had with myself while stumbling from my door to the window.

“Oh my GAWD! It’s soooooooooooooo fucking hot in here! Why is it so damn hot?!?!”

Here is where I managed to open the window, turn the heater off and stumble back to the door, lean on it a little bit and realize I had my heavy pea coat on.

“WHY AM I STILL WEARING THIS?!!” I say this completely amazed as if it magically appeared on me out of nowhere.

I spend the next 5 minutes trying to unbutton my jacket only to become frustrated and pull it over like a hoodie and fling it across the room. Next, I kicked my shoes off and tore my shirt off. It was still Africa hot in there. I tried to take my jeans off but only ended up lying awkwardly on my side on my bed and kicking my legs in the air. Basically, I looked like I was riding an invisible bike when I was trying to take my jeans off. I eventually got them off and sat upright, in my underoos and tank top, hair a mess while loudly wondering, “Where are my fucking pants?” When I say pants I mean the yoga pants that I use to do yoga sleep in.

This then led me to kind of sort of stand up and throwing my blanket off my bed and still muttering, “What the hell. I need my pants!” I staggered around a little before leaning against my door and whining about how I couldn’t find my pants. 20 minutes later I gave and proclaimed, “Fuck it, I’ll sleep in my undies. I don’t need PANTS!”

Yeah, this was me.

     

When I woke up sometime that afternoon I looked around my room through squinted eyes and a painful headache and thought, “What the hell happened in here?” My window was open and half of my pea coat was hanging out of it, one sleeve blowing in the wind as if waving, hey! A drunken idiot lives here! One shoe had knocked my textbooks off my desk and the other shoe sitting was sitting on the window sill. Shirt was haphazardly on the floor; jeans crumbled by my bed and right next to them were my black yoga pants. It was then I heard the soft knocking on my door and my roommate quietly asking if I was ok, did I need some water and did I ever find my DAMN pants.

There’s another story, years later about me waking up to a bed covered in chicken nuggets but I’ll save that for another day.

Also, guys TOMORROW IS THE LAST DAY TO ENTER THE NERF GUN GIVEAWAY! I’ll announce the winner on Saturday and am totally stoked at all the responses and entries! If this is the first time you’re hearing about this mega amazing giveaway you can find the details right ovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvver HERE!

Web MD Said So

Sometimes when I’m not feeling well I Google my symptoms just to see how much longer I have to live. I’ve been told by “Chris” and “Sean” that I’m now banned from Wed MD and any such Googling. Apparently, I get overly dramatic and assume the worst is happening.



 Example 1

A few months ago I had a really bad migraine. I RARELY get migraines. So rare that the last one I had was over 10 years ago. Weeks after the migraine I felt extremely tired, had no motivation to do anything and just wanted to sleep my days away. After taking to Google and Web MD, it was determined that sometimes after a migraine something called a “migraine hangover” occurs. Basically, you just feel hung over but that usually only lasts a few days to a week and I had been feeling sluggish for several weeks. Web MD also said that it could be some type of brain tumor or cancer. That seemed more logical to me.

“Chris” kept telling me to go see a doctor and “Sean” would just roll his eyes when I mentioned that I was probably dying. I eventually found a doctor who said because of my busy schedule it was probably my bodies way of saying, check yo self before you wreck yo self. He also drew blood to make sure there wasn’t anything more serious going on. Turns out my B-12 was really low, which is what also made me zombie like and tired.

Example 2

This one was recent. So recent that it was this weekend. I didn’t realize that I had slept in an awkward position a few nights ago and spent the following day wondering why it felt like I was being stabbed under my shoulder blade every time I moved or inhaled. There were several people that asked the same question on Google and the main response was, “you slept wrong, dummy.” Did I come to that conclusion and move on? Nope. Instead, I found one response from the Mayo Clinic that stated I could have had a mild heart attack.

Here are some of the symptoms:

• Shortness of breath (Nope, just regular breathing)
• Nausea (Nope, well there’s a certain someone at work that makes me feel that way but that’s a story for another day)
• Sweating (Well, it was really warm at work one day but for some reason I kept my hoodie on so that fault is mine)
• Fainting (Only after I swoon over certain male celebrities)
• Pain the jaw, throat, shoulder, or neck (SHOULDER! I HAVE PAIN IN MY SHOULDER! I’M DYING!)

Therefore, without a medical degree I can logically conclude, I had a mild heart attack. Ok, maybe I didn’t. Instead, I took a hot bath, some Tylenol and stopped sleeping like a crazy person. The stabbing feeling is now down to a mild, lazily attempt at mugging me feeling.

Also, guys, don't forget about the Nerf Gun give away!!! In case you haven't noticed, I really want to give this bad boy away. For more of the deets just click riiiiiiiiiight over HERE!

WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

I'm not much of a club person. I always end up sounding like a muppet that smokes about 10 packs a day when I leave. Plus, the music is so loud that half the time I have no idea what anyone is saying to me. It could be anywhere along the lines of murdering their family and I'm just sitting there, nodding and smiling and telling them how cool that sounds. I prefer the low key bars where I'm not screaming WHAT? and the person gives me that mega irritated look so I pretend I have to go to the bathroom and walk off. If I've done that to you, I'm not sorry. You should have spoken up, jerk.



There's one club in town that everyone seems to go to and I'm not sure if it's because despite all the other clubs constantly being shut down due shootings and stabbings or if it's actually a fun place. It's suppose to be a country bar but they have on occassion played one or two hip hop songs. I haven't been there in a while but the last few times it's kind of the same thing over and over again. There's always that one REALLY drunk girl that's sitting on the bathroom floor and sobbing. And I don't mean like quiet sobbing, I mean that dramatic the world is coming to end and I forgot to feed my puppy kind of sobbing. Her equally drunk friends are usually circled around her trying to console her as she blurts out, "but he said he liked me and he's DANCING WITH THAT SLUT!" Meanwhile, I'm just standing in line for the bathroom and thinking, ah, junior high, glad that crap is over.

Then there's the dance floor. The other massively drunk girls are out there and having a good time dancing with each other. Occassaionly, one will shout about how much fun they're having and should take a group picture. So, naturally, they all pose like gravity is pulling them to ground and sprout a duck face. Meanwhile, the guys are just standing around the dance floor, a beer in their hand while they just watch the drunk girls. It's almost like a hunter watching his prey, waiting for the poor unsuspecting girl to stray from the herd. Maybe her feet hurt so she's going to sit down or she needs another drink, whatever it is he's going to stalk her and wait for that perfect moment to approach her. And then BAM! He drags her off to his cave.

That's just what I've observed.

Also, guys don't forget to enter yourself for a chance to win a FREE NERF GUN! Do you know what you have to do to win? Just type your silly little name down in the comment section below! SO DO IT NOW!