Nothing has been going on

I am lame lately. I told Radio Farter (that's his new name as far as I'm concerned) that he was plenty nice but there was no spark between us. I didn't include that his farting was a real big turn off. Lilo told me I had until Friday, so on Wednesday after I had had a few to drink, I told him to hit the bricks. I do feel better now. He was kind of lame all the time.

And aside from that, nothing new in the boy department. Bootcamp Boyfriend (one of my co-workers has started calling him Army Boots, which I think I like more and will use from now on) is back in NY. He texted me last night. I'm interested to know what Boots did that he tweaked so hardcore. Boys are dumb. That's all I have to say.

Tomorrow Summer and I are going to drink our faces off. When we go out, one of Summer's Husband's friends comes along. He has a wife, but she never comes. But when he goes out with us, he hits on me like it's his job. He stares at my boobs and is kinda touchy-feely. I laugh it off because he's usually so drunk he has no idea what he's saying, but it's weird all at once. I'll update on Sunday with what happens.

What Happened

So here's why Radio Flyer is out. We had a nice dinner. I had a burger and it was fabulous. We were having a sort of interesting conversation. Actually, that's a lie. He was telling me about being the sports director at his college radio station and some football game that he had to call. I was asking questions that had nothing to with the football part, but everything to do with the weather, the uniforms, the cheerleaders, etc. But things were going okay. I thought maybe he would be okay. He is someimtes a little slow on the uptake, but sometimes I am too.

He wasn't totally out by this point. And then. And then....he screwed himself. One of the things that the Statie did that totally disturbed me a lot was that he farted around me. And yes, you want someone to be comfortable enough with you that they don't feel that they have to censor themselves. The Statie farted a lot. He wouldn't even acknowledge his farting, he would do it in the middle of conversation and keep on going. If we were sitting somewhere, he would shift so one half of his ass would be up and he would fart. I know everyone farts. I accept this. But I don't want to know about it. I don't fart around my friends and I most certianly didn't fart around boys. In fact, I don't even think I like the word fart. It's a gross word. I don't really like the phrase "passing gas". My aunt used to call it "tooting", so maybe that's what we will go with.

In case you hadn't figured out what he did.....he tooted. In the middle of the conversation. Statie style. I was horrified. And now, Radio Flyer, you are most cetianly out. He tooted and just kept on talking. He shifted his seat, lifted his ass, TOOTED and kept on talking. He didn't excuse himself, he didn't acknowledge it. I saw the Statie in a flashback. Also, he yawned and didn't cover his mouth.

Now the only thing I have to do is tell him that he's out. We all know how well that went with Trogdor....

Quick update

I went out with Radio Flyer. And I've decided that he's out. He committed a wrong so wrong....god. It's not really his fault, persay, but it's not okay.

More tomorrow when I'm not so tipsy and my brain doesn't hurt

So confused

Last night, I was online. Bootcamp Boyfriend IM'd me. He's apparently in Kentucky, on his way back to upstate NY. We talked for a bit about nothing really, just about what he's going to do when he gets back home and so on and so forth. As he's signing off, he goes "love you, bye." I had no answer to that. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?!

I know that I've told friends of mine that I loved them when I signed off, even if we weren't that kind of friend because I was signing off in a hurry and I told someone else that. I know I've told ex-boyfriends that as a force of habit. It's like talking to someone you used to love. When you're ending the phone conversation, you want to say "I love you" because that's how it used to end. But that's not how our lives are now. We're not in love. And even though I might not even love him in a friendly sort of way, I still care. And there he is, telling me "love you". He might not even realized he did that.

Or he might have realized and done it just to make me all confused. Things I'm not going to do: let him know that he got to me. Cause he did get to me. When (but the bigger question being if), he talks to me again, I'm not going to bring it up. Maybe he will. Maybe he'll do it again. Maybe he won't. I really have no idea. I just know that he got me alllllllllll sorts of confused, like an asshole. Like he is.

On the Radio Flyer front, I texted him on Monday night and said something along the lines of "so what's the plan on Friday?" I thought that was a kind of flirty way to accept his offer to go out on Friday night. He responds by saying "we are going to go out". Yes, I know that. I KNOW THAT. At that point, I was kind of annoyed by him because he didn't get it. Of course, I know I'm the one being dumb, but seriously guy. SERIOUSLY. I haven't talked to him since then.

I thought there was some other boy annoyance I had to blog about. Now I realize that I don't have any.

Weird weekend

Radio Flyer asked me out for Friday night. I have not answered him. To be fair, I was drinking for 3 days straight, so I couldn't be expected to answer anyone about anything. I still think I have something going on, but looking at my planner and all the calendars in my life, I really have nothing. I should tell him whether I want to or not soon. Yes, I should.

Saturday night I went with my aunt to see Cheesy Fries. He had left work before I got there because his shift ended. I'm starting to think it's not worth the damage to my liver to keep on trotting out there.

But neither of those things were weird. Those things are both pretty normal. No, the weird thing happened on Friday evening. I had been drinking maybe a lot. Just maybe. My phone rings and I didn't recognize the number. I knew it wasn't the Statie boyfriend, who called last week. He's in the 518 area code. This was a different number. I answered...and it was Bootcamp Boyfriend. He's leaving bootcamp. I guess he cracked under the pressure or something of bootcamp. He's getting discharged this week and flying back to Syracuse. I'm standing there in some sort of shock. This guy was tough, mentally. He played all sorts of head games. He doesn't properly express feelings and generally is an asshole. Somehow, someone at the bootcamp got into his head and screwed him all up. I was worried for a bit because no matter how much I hate him, I still don't want anything bad to happen to him. He assured me that he was okay and that he was coming back east. He also told me that I was the only girl for him. Uh, what now? What the hell are you talking about? Then last night, I was off doing stuff (watching a movie I will blog about in a second) and he IMed me. He just left a message of nonsense, but still. Now he's in my brain. He's in my dreams again. In my dreams, he's always fabulous. He is always all those things I wanted him to be and all the things he was before whatever went wrong with him went wrong.

I just don't understand why I can bury the thoughts of Weston Footballer, The Reject, Maine Man and The Statie, but I can't get him out of my head. He's in there. It was a long and hard relationship, one that you would think that I would want to bury in that place in my head where things that make me sad go. But it's out in the open, rolling around and causing trouble. My brain clearly hates me too, because it's bringing out all the good times we had together, not the horrible times that I cried my eyes out and just hoped that he would either love me more or drop dead so that I didn't have to deal with him. I know I'm different now and it shouldn't bother me. But he's the same. Bootcamp hasn't changed him into the guy that he so badly needed to be 3 years ago. Just get out of my brain, Bootcamp Boyfriend. Get. Out.

The movie I watched last night was Wristcutters: A love story. And it was. It was about love in the afterlife, after all. And I felt so tingly and sad all at once. I think about who I was, again in relation to the Bootcamp Boyfriend and I'm so glad that I'm out.

Last night...she saidddddddd

As you might remember, I went out with Radio Flyer last night. He is really nice and he bought me a beer or two and we just talked about stuff. Nothing really important. He noticed that I got my hair highlighted and he told me how pretty it looked. Well, duh. I’m awesome. Not much else happened. He said that we should hang out again. His sister is getting married next weekend and he’s going to be giving her away and I thought that was cute.

Radio Flyer is cute. He’s a very nice boy. But much likeThe Graduate, I don’t know if he can handle me. As usual, after I go out with a boy, I call Reaper. Reaper said something last night that was brilliant…and it was along the lines of I need someone that can be fun with me but know when to bring me back down. I need an edgy rock? Is that what he said? I don’t remember. He's totally right though. I need a guy that can roll with the punches but know when the punching should stop. Or something.

Something else happened and I'm looking for opinions. Reaper thinks it's a joke gone wrong, and I might have to agree with him, but I would love to know what my devoted followers think. As we were leaving the bar, there was a sign for my english teacher's band and the next date they were playing. I was saying how one day Darcy said that they should play at my wedding and all this stuff about my imaginary wedding or something. We somehow got on the 20 year plan and he was like "hey, we could have a 20 year plan" and I told him I already had a 20 year plan. With Reaper. I told him that if something happened between Reaper and I or Reaper was offed, then he could be my 25 year plan. He's like "so I guess that means we're engaged now?" and I said, no we'll be engaged in 25 years. It was just weird, but now that I think more about it, I could see myself saying that. I just found it a bit strange is all.

On Saturday night, I am going out with my aunt to Outback. Where Cheesyfries works. Should be an interesting night regardless.

I'm awesome

Radio Flyer texted me last night and wanted to know what I was doing. I told him I just got home from work (cause I did) and that I was planning on going to the gym. He wanted to ask me out for a drink. I asked him what time and he said that we could meet up at like 9:30 or 10. I don't want to sound like an old person...but that's fucking late. Seriously! I'm usually in my pajamas by 10, so to be meeting someone at that time would be like, hard on me. Also, I wasn't in the right mindframe. I sometimes I have to get myself excited to do things. This is one of those things. So instead we are going to meet up on Thursday night, which should be fine. Then comes the next logical question...what do I wear?

I have to be honest - after I graduated from college, I gained some weight. It's not like I was ever skinny to begin with, but the beer and the pizza and all the other shit I was eating caught up to me. So I had cute "going out to the bar with a boyfriend that I already had" clothes, but nothing to get guys. As I've mentioned, I went to school in upstate NY and it was pretty cold. Everyone wore lots of clothes all the time. You didn't want to freeze to death. That being said, I'm now trying really hard to get the weight off that I put on. Which is a problem because nothing I own really fits anymore. My jeans are too big, but the next size down is too small. So do I wear jeans that are kind of big and hope for the best? Probably. There’s nothing I can do except lose more weight so a pair of pants actually fits me.

And since I'm a girly girl deep down, I have slutty underpants. We all do. Those are the underpants that you wear when you want to feel good about yourself. And if someone happened to see you in those underpants – well, you’d rock them 6 ways from Sunday. I know these underpants do the job of rocking. I’m not getting into how I might know these facts, but I do. The slutty underpants are almost fitting my ass, so that’s good. That’s the plan. Get my slutty underpants to fit and I’ll know that I’m getting back to where I want to be.

I pretty much always ask Summer what I should wear before I go out. She’s got some style and sass and well, I could learn a thing or two from her. And always, when I ask, she says “you need to wear the good bra”. Really? Do I? She tells me every time and it makes me laugh. The “good bra” is a bra I got from Victoria’s Secret. And the reason its good and the big secret is that it has like, little gel things in it that make your boobs look bigger. And feel very real. Much like the slutty underpants, I have received this information from some reliable sources. So I have a couple of those and I ordered a new one that Summer has - but since VS sucks a big one, my order is not here. My date is creeping up on me and I wanted to wear the good bra AND IT IS NOT AT MY HOUSE. I very much want to wear it.

The thing with the “good bra” that I worry about is once I take it off (if that’s happening) will it be that noticeable a difference? Then I think that if some guy is willing to go that extra step with me (god that sounds so not right) he’s not going to care. Is it lying to make my breasts seem larger than they really are? Or is it just giving them a little push in the right direction – that would be the hot direction.

In other totally interesting news, I went out with my aunt and my brothers on Saturday night to the resturant that her boyfriend works at. There was a cute waiter man there. Cute waiter man thought I was pretty. My aunt is trying to see what she can do. C'mon cute waiter man. Give me something good(er) to write about

Really?

Last night, Trogdor IMed me. Again. And he told me that he was going out with Jimbo to some place in Yonkers to see some band play on Saturday night. He wanted to know if I wanted to join him. That would be a big, fat NO. I told him I have plans to take my brothers to dinner (which I do) and I don't know how late I will be out. That part is a lie because I have a ballpark idea. And I'm hoping to make other plans after dinner.

Does he really not get the hint that much? I don't talk to him really AT ALL. EVER. Does he not get that I don't want to hang out with him? What he's doing is about equal to me IMing Dickhole Pete and asking if he wanted to go out. I don't talk to him (but I know why) and he's not involved in my life. The results would be the same: No, we're not friends and back off.

I don't know when Jimbo became the BFF with Trogdor, but whatever. Oh Jimbo, I'll have to have a talk with you and your BFFedness with Trogdor. Even the The Brewmaster is like "Jimbo is going out with Trogdor on Saturday night...?"

We're all confused.

Now, The Graduate and Radio Flyer - get to asking me what I'm doing. C'mon, you know you want to. Should I suggest something for us to do? Probably. Am I going to? Nope. "He's just not that into you" told me that I shouldn't. Let's see what happens.

Radio Flyer!

Not the red wagon as above, but the actual person. I twittered about my night and that made it kind of awesome. I might have maybe had a few too many beverages. I was okay though. My teacher's band rocked, as usual. My ears are ringing now and I have no voice left, but other than that, I'm no worse for the wear. He was very nice, a little bit more heavyset than his picture made him out to be. I have no issue with that cause I know you want to make yourself out to look hot. I was just saying. He seemed to enjoy himself and was liking the music. We only talked for a little bit cause it was so loud. Darcy went to the bathroom and we had a nice little moment alone. I didn't make out with him. I texted him before he got there that I was a hot mess. Mostly cause I was hot and sweaty and drunk and therefore, messy. He didn't seem to mind or care, which was good. Cause I didn't care if he did care. I haven't heard from him this morning, but that's kind of normal cause he works crazy hours. He's a sports writer in a newsroom and loves radio. So he's awesome. We talked about music briefly and I was buying him beers cause he got a new job and I told him I would. He told me next time the beers were on him. I also made super good friends with the bartender and he was getting me drinks as well. Love the bartender man. So, as usual, the Molly Darcy's experience was awesome. The next show is in late July and I don't know if I can make it. I have a lot of things going on that day.




There also was a strange man there that was dancing like a weeble. You remember weebles - "weebles wobble but they don't fall down". He kind of looked like the weeble in the picture, but only if it had dark hair. This large weeble man was gyrating around and we had to jump to get out of his gyrations. His dancing would have been more acceptable if he had a hula-hoop around his waist. But he didn't. He was just dancing away. He also had a horrible shirt on. But he was interesting.

In addition to the weeble man, there was this crazy former hippie guy there. He had a dirty beard and gross hair and he might have been smelly. But he was humping the speakers. Humping them. Like, crouching down and thrusting. And that was holy awkward. The first time I saw it I thought it was a fluke. Then he did it again. I made everyone watch. He was terrifying. He would come up behind people and be all in their business, watching them and humping them. He went after Darcy. I told her that if we were at a Dead show and we were all strung out on LSD, that might be okay. But we weren't, so it wasn't. It was just awkward

Last night

So last night I went out with The Graduate. He's really very nice and kind of cute. As the pictures below show, he bought me some beautiful flowers. They smell so good and I was totally shocked that he would do that. Reaper was telling me how totally old school that is and he's right, it is. I don't expect things like that from guys in their 20s now. It really made me smile but then I realized I had to make up a reason as to why I would have them when I got home. They are in my room right now and I smiled really big when I woke up and saw them there.

We talked about music and growing up where we did. He told me about all the traveling that he's done (he's been to Iceland, Australia, India, New Zealand and I think a bunch of other places I forgot), his transfer from Uconn to U of Maryland, his degree in economics...you get the drift. We went to this really tasty chinese food place not too far from where we both live. After dinner, we went to the Greek festival down the street. We walked around for a bit but no one was really there. And I tripped on an extension cord but didn't fall down. Amazing.

We decided to go to the beach because I really wanted to go on the swings. Really. When we got to the beach it was like 9:30ish and all the really sketchy people were there. We walked down to the end of the pier and talked there for a while. Then we walked back down by the water and I stuck my feet in and hoped I didn't step on a piece of broken glass. That's the sort of luck I have. We then found some swings and were swinging for a bit. I cut my toe on a rock. I was bleeding. It was fantastic fun.

We went back to the car and he was really sweet and didn't try anything. He wasn't all trying to make out with me like Dickhole Pete and I really appreciated it. It's not that I didn't want that, but I felt so awkward, so I was glad that he didn't do that. When we left, he said that he would email me today and I was like "oh, okay. later!" and then...no emails all morning. Or during lunch. Finally at like, almost 3 he emailed to say that he was really busy at work and just dropped me a quick note. Relief. Someone likes me. Or something. Who really knows?

Radio Flyer is Saturday night. Now that I have twittered my page, I can update from the bar on Saturday night. Does anyone else think that's a totally fantastic and horrible idea all at once?

Some new characters

I have two new guys. And they both want to see me this week. So here's the rundown. They are suitors 6 and 7, respectively (taking into account Footweiner McLovin, The Hipster, Ryan, Trogdor and Dickhole Pete who were all the suitors before them).

Suitor 6 - The Graduate - I'm calling him that because he graduated from my high school when I was a freshman. He's plenty nice. We've been talking a lot about music and what sort of things we like. He alerted me to a Katy Perry concert in the city last night (which I didn't go to in the end). He wanted to see if I wanted to get dinner sometime this week. He commutes from our hometown to the city every day, so we wouldn't be getting dinner until later. As I said, he's way into music and I like that. At first I thought we would be concert buddies but now I am confused. We'll see how this plays out.

Suitor 7 - Radio Flyer - Lilo called him that because we started talking because of our mutual love of radio. He would get my nonsense rambling messages on Match and just go with it, which I have to applaud him for dealing with. We've been talking online when we can and he amuses me. He's very nice. He's meeting up with me when I'm going out with Summer, her Husband and Darcy on Saturday night. He also suggested dinner this week but I told him that my commute was long (which it is) and that by the time I get home, I really have no patience for anyone. That kind of contradicts what I'm doing with The Graduate, but since dinner won't be until 8, I have enough time to cool down. Besides, Greenwich is far from Brookfield. It would take me all night to get from Greenwich to Brookfield.

Those are the men right now. We'll have to see how this works. I'll be sure to keep this blog updated as soon as I know what's up.

And on a total unrelated side note...every time I turn around, I swear Dickhole Pete's Brother is behind me. He works on the other side of the building so there is a chance he would be over here, but I swear, I see him like 10 times a day. And he's always leering at me or something. Today The Brewmaster and I were at the deli across the street. I was standing there ordering a salad and The Brewmaster whispers to me that I should turn around. I knew what was up though. I refused because I had a feeling it was Dickhole Pete's Brother. And it was. When I was telling The Brewmaster that DPB was everywhere I turned, he didn't believe me. Now he sees what I'm saying. Bastard

And totally unrelated, I found a picture of the man from the Sam Adams ads that I am totally in love with.