I'm Not Enough

Soooo... I've been following a few blogs now and I suddenly came to the realization that I am simply not ENOUGH. I know you think my self esteem has taken a hit but honestly, some people are deep and some people are funny. I think I can be both but it is not translating to this blog for some reason.

I think when I try to be deep I come across as whining about something. I don't like whiners. I like whining. Which is completely hypocritical. Which is something else I hate. I think I may actually hate myself if I became friend's with myself. How deep is that?

When I try to be funny, I curse too much, I laugh too loud and I try to hard. I think it is evident. Despite graduating from UGA with a degree in journalism, I don't think my strength is in writing. I believe it may be in story telling. In person, I am pretty entertaining (just ask the bachelorette party I went to last weekend).

Also, how funny is a drunk? I think if you are going to be a drunk, you can't really be deep. I mean you can but you can't because no one will listen to you and everyone will call you crazy.

I have come to the conclusion that to be a part of a blog you have to choose a hole and become that peg (which to me sounds so DIRTY but to others might sound deep). You really do have to pick one facet of yourself and stick with it. I am too indecisive. If someone reviewed my blog or even my life they would say I skip around and I can't pick a theme, a personality, a style or even a path to follow. I feel as though I should apologize for it but I feel as though I shouldn't.

I don't even know what I was trying to say with this blog. And rather than making me feel better, I think it has just depressed me. Time for a glass of wine.

SWF seeks SWM

Lately, I think everyone is coupling off. In fact, I have had to seek out new single friends to hang out with (or at least friends who spend a great deal of time away from their significant others). It doesn't matter how gooey you and your soul mate are, I will always feel like the extra person prohibiting you from getting your groove on. Always, and don't tell me not to feel that way because it is not your place to do so.

Sometimes, people try to bring an extra guy along like I don't know they are secretly hoping we hit it off and we can all double date forever and ever. While I appreciate your attempts, really, I am so ridiculously awkward that you are just wasting your time. I will mess it up somehow. For example, I might talk about that guy I am dating but not dating. Every story I tell might involve him in some way to the point that even when I see this great guy you tried to couple me up with outside of this event, he will ask about that person. Or I will eat faster than him. That's right (I know this turns you on) I eat like a man. I used to be ashamed of it but honestly, I have tried to change it. I just can't. Or I will make fun of him in a Jersey way. He will not get it. I will be labeled a bitch. So really, don't waste your time.

And if you are a guy and you happen to enjoy my company, I will go ahead and tell you I had no idea and if I upset you I'm sorry. I will say I do not think I have met the one yet so you should probably find someone else to moon over. The closest I have come to meeting The One is not interested in that with me. Not that I won't try my damnedest to change his mind in the future if I am still single.

So since so many people have offered to set me up (or been sneaky about it) I have decided it might be time to consider what I want in a MAN- not a boy a MAN. I wish you could hear me say that. It would really enhance this blog. That being said...this Single, White, Average and totally batshit crazy female is seeking:

• A Male. A real male. Not one of those things that pretends to be male. If you wear pink, get manicures and will watch chick flicks with me then we are not meant to be together. I do my weepy, girl movies alone thank you very much.
• Athletic. No skateboarding does not count as athletic. I want a guy who plays on a softball team after work. Or his work is to play a sport. Top three sports my guy can play: Baseball, Football and Golf. Yum.
• Smart. You don't have to be smarter than me (not that it would be hard to do) but I am looking for a guy who can read, write and do some math. In fact, if you are good with finances that would be HUGE.
• Sense of Humor. Seriously, if you don't like The Office, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, anything with Will Ferrell, Summer Heights High, My Name is Earl...well I could go on but it would take forever. If you don't like raunchy humor, don't bother. The word penis still makes me laugh.
• Sports. Not a sports guy? Get outta here. I don't care what teams you like, just that you have passion for a team. You can learn when you meet me who my teams are. I won't hate you for your choices but I will heckle you.
• Attractive. Don't tell me someone's looks don't matter because they do trust me. I recently saw an ex who I still had feelings for. He was fat. My feelings are gone. I don't think it's wrong of me to admit that I care what someone looks like. I'm sure plenty of guys have passed on me because I weigh more than they would prefer. Whatever. Do I have a type? Yes. Tall ( 6'0" is the minimum. I dated a 6'7" guy one time. It was difficult but fun), dark ( I like brunettes. My one encounter with a blond was a nightmare. I think it scarred me), green or brown eyes (The blond was blue eyed too...hmmm), athletic build ( you can have a bit of pudge but I like a guy who hits the gym and TRIES to maintain a physique of some type).
• Outgoing. Social. Likes to party. I should probably look for someone who doesn't drink and can babysit me but that would be boring. So someone who enjoys flip cup and beer pong and would want to do those things with me!

I don't think this list is too choosy though it certainly excludes a fair number of people. If you are offended...too bad. You'll get over it. My sparkling personality will sway you!

That's a Hell of a Ride

So this is an old story that I recently found in my emails to a friend Chris. Since I have failed to update this recently due to having multiple jobs and even more blackouts, I thought I would post this story to demonstrate how retarded I can really be.

I'm from a town in Georgia and for the Memorial Day holiday I decided to go home and visit. So I got into town on Thursday am. Hung out with my mom and sister for a bit (aka played tennis and drank beer which I know you can appreciate). At 6 my best friend picked me up and we headed to my college town. Get there and start getting ready to go out. Well the friend we will be staying with is going to be bartending that night at Allgood so she's drinking some rum, club soda and lime juice before her shift and we decide to join her. I drive us downtown around 9:15 since somehow I'm the most sober(some people just can't hold their liquor). Now I think the original plan was going to be to Bar Hop but I apparently decided if the drinks were free why bother leaving my two favorite bars? First I hit up some new bar to visit the hottest bartender alive (Female mind you and I would totally go lesbian for her). She makes us a few shots and then we head over to the bar my former neighbor co-owns. I walk in to several people waiting on me and the night begins. I think total I had maybe 7 drinks over the course of the night. I pretty much stuck to shots. Including my least fave-Goldschlagger. I wanted to vomit right then but I didnt.More people start showing up and the owners of the bar (who are close friends of mine) couldn't be happier with all the rounds of shots we are buying. A former sorority sister of mine decides to buy the newest shot on the chalkboard.I don't know if you know what it is but it's called The Motorboat. Basically,the owner or bartender of your choice (or in this case my friend's choice) sits you on a bench, straddles you, tips your head back, and pours liquor out of a bottle into your mouth while he literally motorboats you. It was out of control. At about 12:15 I decide it's time to head to the bar I pretty much lived in junior and senior years of college. I have no memory of being there. Thank God for the pictures. I think I went on a kissing spree-planting one on anyone who was fortunate enough to pass by me. And I know we did more rounds of shots. Apparently, around 2 am I told everyone I had to use the bathroom. Which I am pretty sure I did before blacking out completely.

I woke up at 2:45 am to a bright light in my eyes and somebody shaking me. Evidently, I tried to walk to my old apartment (something I had even mentioned to everyone would probably happen). But I didn't quite make it. I passed out in front of my old dorm from freshman year which is about 2/3 of the way there. The cops found me passed out half on the sidewalk and half in the cross walk leading to another co-ed dorm. The female cop wanted to arrest me for drunk and disorderly. The male cop argued that I wasn't disorderly, I was "pleasant". They offered me a ride home to which I apparently retorted, "Wow, you are going to drive me all theway to NJ? That's a long ride in the back of a cop car." To which, he laughed and she ran a check on me. Which came back with nothing because I'm an idiot who thus far has managed to avoid getting busted. Finally, obviously annoyed beyond belief by my inability to answer a question and her partner's reluctance to do anything about me, she grabs my cellphone and calls the last number that called me and hands the phone back to me. My friend answers and asks where the fuck I am and I respond with, "You might want to talk to the officers I'm sitting with."

My sober friend picks me up. Now this is another part that is fuzzy. Rumor has it I went to his apt and crashed on his couch for 2 hours before the bartender friend picked us up. At 7 am I woke up in a bed next to my best friend with my camera and my phone next to me. I can't find my purse.My fucking coach purse. My fucking $200 coach purse that was a Christmas present from my aunt. With my Amex, my debit card, my lip gloss, and $12 in it. Not to mention MY ID. Which, hey, is kind of important as I CAN'T GET ON A FUCKING PLANE WITHOUT IT!Thus begins my second encounter with the cops. I wont bore you with those details but suffice to say, my best friend and I go retracing the route I probably walked to the dorms, we call to file a police report, and then head to the DMV to get a new ID. Which I was denied. Oh and cancelling my credit cards was loads of fun. All before 9 am. So my best friend drives me back to Snellville where I call my mom crying. We finally talk to TSA who tell me I can drive to the airport with someone who has a valid ID. That person will vouch for me, they will draft an affadavit saying my purse was stolen, take my picture and notorize it. It has to be done on Friday or else I can't fly home on Monday. As we are heading to the airport, my phone rings. The Bank of America in my college town is calling to tell me SOMEONE TURNED IN MY PURSE. So now my mom has to turn around and drive me an hour to get the damn thing.Yeah, that's right, luck of the Irish. Everything was in it- all the cards, the lipgloss, the cash and the ID.The best part about it? Not one of my friends is pissed at all. The Friday after this, was my best friend's birthday and she spent the first two hours driving my still drunk ass around looking for my purse, talking with cops and sitting in a DMV and she thinks the whole thing was hysterical. The guy who picked me up before the cops could change their minds and arrest me called me to tell me to give him the heads up for the night I move home- he'd like to organize another crazy night with me. I'm not sure my purse can take another night of this. My mom and dad weren't pissed at all- they just told me they thought after getting two degrees that I was smart enough to know you only went to bars with your ID and cash in your pocket. All in all everyone was pretty cool.I guess I learned my lesson. For now. I give it a week before I fuck it up somehow.