Shallow and Very, Very Single

Sorry I have been MIA, but it has sort of been the calm before the storm that is July and August. I need to enjoy the relatively quiet time.

That said, I have been lying low, working my ass off, gaining weight (which I need to not do, but my mouth won't listen and my ass is not participating as it should be), shoveling food (again, not listening), drinking, concert going (Death Cab for Cutie at the Greek), Mission district prowling, questionable burrito eating (why must this have so much to do with food, I hate myself), working more and preparing for the next month...which includes (in back to back weekend order):

1. Bachelorette Party #1: Scottsdale, AZ
   
2. Bachelorette Party #2: Lake Havasu, AZ
   
3. Birthday Celebration #1: Lake Tahoe
4. Wedding #1: Santa Barbara (Slow Motion's nuptials and drunken celebration)
5. Birthday Celebration #2: My godforsaken 28th birthday, celebration TBD
6. Wedding #2: Actually takes place in September, but still

This all commences with #1 this coming weekend. I am tired, sunburned and hungover in advance just thinking about it all. Whew.

I am hoping that with all of these adventures, I will have plenty blog fodder on the way. Particularly since C (yes, that C) will be attending event #3 above. He sent me an email saying so this morning. He also informed me that he will not be bringing his gf. Uh. Good for you, buddy. You are confusing me with someone who gives a shit. I'm fat, tired and sober. Lay off.

***************
And with that, here are the most recent search terms that have led people to this lovely blog of overeating and whining about ex boyfriends and idiotic ideas and belligerence:

"my boyfriend" "gym" "with another woman"
Hmm. Someone took that class on Google search tips, didn't they? Hopefully all of those quotations will help them realize that searching those terms = your boyfriend is probably a huge douchebag.

"wallet hero"
The latest game from RedOctane, where the winner is determined by who spends the least on a shopping spree? or pick-pocket the most on the subway? Do they make it for Wii?

"bossy necklace"
Not sure what one of these little trinkets runs or where one would find one, but I feel as though I desperately need one. NOW. GET ME ONE.

"where can I find ativan"
Not here amigo, mama does NOT share her candies.

"my boyfriend thinks I'm skinny"
Braggy bitch.

"buy pot, Dolores Park"
Um. You really don't need to Google search that, teen. It's pretty readily available if you get off your ass and actually head over to Dolores.

"free vagina girls"
Me thinks this searcher did not find what he was looking for on this site. Just a guess.

"I need a good job because I think my girlfriend thinks I'm good for nothing"
Sweetheart. Dump the shallow bitch, get a job and stop searching for such sad things. No good.

"my boyfriend is abusive and says I'm the one with the problem"
Um. That means he is abusive and manipulative. Let's get rid of him.

Side note: This blog is becoming the destination page for emo teens. WTF.

"nutella fuck boyfriend"
I'm starving.

Labels: C, drunk rampages, idiotic behavior, music, Slow Motion, travel, ugh

Fourth of July weekend was spent at what we have dubbed Man Ranch 2009. At Man Ranch, I did the following:

1. Shot guns (shot guns and paintball guns, jealous?)
   
2. Rode in the back of pick-up trucks
3. Sang patriotic songs drunkenly from the back of said pick-up trucks
4. Made up sweet, offensive dance moves (one of which is called the Sexy Jesus)
   
5. Drank more boxed wine than is healthy for any normal human being (Sunset Blush being a fave varietal)
6. Lake swam
   
7. Middle of lake trampolined
8. Four-wheel off roaded (and learned how to drive, after which, I made my tutor regret his decision when I proceeded to take out a few small trees, but I really liked going fast and running things over)
   
9. Zip-lined (OK, my sister did, I sissied out of that activity)
10. Layed out, sunburned
11. Viewed far too much man-thigh (these boys were really into wearing neon cut off t-shirts and short shorts ALL weekend)
    
12. Ate Rocky Mountain Oysters (OK, my sister did, I sissied out of that activity as well)
    
13. Mountain top dance partied
14. With glow sticks
15. All forty five of us in 80's prom gear
16. Retired to the barn, yes, the barn, to finish our 80's prom Footloose style
17. Miserably hungover, rode back home ALL the way from Humboldt County to SF
18. Recovered Jane Honda (!!), who was mildly molested (including a punched ignition)

Phew. Truly a spectacular weekend. I cannot wait for next year.

Labels: boys, drunk rampages

Other than hating every member of the male species within a 50 mile radius, work being horrifically stressful, drinking too much in order to cope with the stress every evening and all around wallowing in self-pity, this week hasn't been too bad...uh, until my fucking car was stolen.

I went downstairs to go to work this morning to find a completely empty parking spot where Jane Honda was parked last night.

Yep. Jane was stolen. As we speak, she is probably being molested by some sketch lunatic at a back-alley body shop in fucking Daly City. I am so pissed off.

Upside? The car was super old. Eleven years old, to be exact. She had a muffler problem and sounded like an airplane. Her windows didn't really work so well anymore. The old girl had nearly 165,000 miles on her. She was tired.

Downside? The vintage Dior clutch in the trunk. The five pairs of fucking $200 jeans in a bag, waiting to be taken to a seamstress for fixing/hemming/zipper repairs. My running shoes and my gym bag. Oh, and I have NO FUCKING CAR. Fuck.

Regardless, I leave in a few hours for beautiful Humboldt County for the long weekend. For some much needed relaxation. On a ranch. With lots of day drinking and skeet shooting and lake swimming and rope swinging and mountain top dance partying. Stories to come, I am sure.

Happy Fourth of July, you crazy Americans.

Labels: filthy thieves, PBD, ugh, vom.com

In the event you were wondering if I had gotten over yesterday's seething hatred of men...no, no I have not.

The only thing productive I have done in the past 24 or so hours is run a hate fueled four miles in 30 minutes and engaged in extreme bouts of road rage, followed by drinking two bottles of wine with Boy 1 (we coincidentally had a date last night that I thought about canceling, but decided it was best that I not be left alone in my apartment in my rage - there is something less pathetic about making out with a cute boy vs. maniacally cleaning my shower whilst listening to Alanis alone).

Whatever. Deep breath. Completely over it.

A month ago, I posted a boy update and a bit about my upcoming weekend plans at the time which were rather insanely busy. I spent Friday night at happy hour in the Mission with the posse (and made out with C, bad life decision, check), Saturday was spent brunching at Nopalito (please go there for lunch, their michelada will change your life) followed by a coffee date with a random dude from high school, followed with dinner at E-Double's casa, followed by a mellow night out at 15 Romolo with C2 and the crew.

Phew. I'm exhausted reliving it. Anyway, the coffee date went well, whatever, he is nice and smart, but very reserved, which for a girl like me could be an obvious issue. In the interest of not writing someone off immediately these days, when he followed up later that evening saying how it was nice to hang out, and invited me to get a drink or dinner in the coming week, I said, "sure, that sounds great."

*crickets*

I never heard back from him. Seriously. He asked me to get drinks or dinner, I said yes, he never wrote/emailed or called back. Huh. I decided he got lost.* No biggie, I wasn't into him anyway, so it didn't matter.

So last night, well into the second bottle of zin with Boy 1, pre-make out sesh, I got a text from a number I didn't recognize:

Sup d! how was NYC? Get together for coffee or drinks soon?

I spent all morning pondering who this number could belong to (I'm hungover, it took me a LONG time to figure it out), until I remembered that the high school guy had a 650 area code AND I never did store his number in my phone. Because I am brain dead.

ANYWAY, once I figured it out, I couldn't help but be more than a little peeved. He asked me out to coffee (which he didn't pay for, but that's fine, I can buy my own coffee especially if I know I'm not into him), then followed-up post-coffee to make future plans, then disappeared for a month?! I mean, what?!

Am I just too fucking pissed off about C to think this isn't pathetic? Should I accept the invitation or blow him off? I am thinking the latter, but am worried I'm being insane right now. I am so sick of this half-assed bullshit. It's getting fucking ridiculous.

Thoughts?


*in high school, any time a boy didn't call us, my bff and I would say he just got really lost and cannot figure out where he is, and that is why he didn't call. sort of pathetic, but we find it hilarious for some reason.

Labels: boys, C, C2, dating, hungover rampages, idiotic behavior, mama juice, vom.com

Let's say you dated a girl for a few months, during which you gave her your keys (but keep in mind, she never volunteered her keys for your usage, EVER), met her parents at your request (again, she never wanted to meet yours), and basically behaved as her boyfriend (even though she wasn't so sure she wanted to date anyone seriously at the time).

Then it came down to month four or five and you ended things because you went to San Diego for the weekend, and talked to your friends and decided it wasn't going to work out long term. Not that the girl ever asked you for anything long term. You just assumed.

Let's say that nearly a year later, after running into each other a few times, you came to her best friend's birthday party and proceeded to tell her you miss hanging out with her and ended up snuggling with her at the after party (before leaving, at which point, that hot commodity of a woman got busy with someone else waiting in the wings, just saying).

Then a month ago, let's say there is a group happy hour with your mutual friends and you make sure she is attending by sending several emails asking and/or saying you really hope to see her there that evening. Then, you got drunk, and the girl was drunk, and you two made out for two hours for old time's sake. After that, you disappeared, completely fell off the radar, which, yes, is a dick move, but really, you and this girl were never friends before you dated, and don't have anything to talk about.

So fine. FINE. We all caught up?

Now. Let's say you're having a Fourth of July party this coming weekend. Let's say you never invited the girl above, the one you dated last summer, to any of your other parties over the past year because, well, it's really not necessary. You never had a friendship, so why start now? You don't have anything in common, in fact. She was too good looking to date you to start with (whoops, did I say that?!). Oh, and she is climbing the corporate ladder (read, will be a VP in her early 30's at a very competitive PR firm), while you work retail. YES. RETAIL. (whoops! did I say that too?! golly!).

NOTE TO MEN: How about you don't invite her to said Fourth of July party. Particularly since you spent last Fourth of July in Tahoe with her friends...a bunch of couples, in fact. While you two were a casual couple.

With that, I give you the email I received a half hour ago:

D!

want to let u know that I'm having a 4th of July party and you're invited. I'm not sure if you have any interest in coming because I'm dating someone else but I want to be mature and polite and let you know that you are welcome to come if you would like. Always good seeing you! ;)

- C

My mental response? Half go-fuck-yourself, half oh-give-him-the-benefit-of-a-doubt, he's just being nice. The actual response I sent him? FAR too nice.

Hey -

No worries, thanks for the invite.

I will be up north for the long weekend.

Hope all is well,
D

Did it piss me off that I am too fucking nice/passive aggressive myself to send a nice little note complete with calling him out for being a self-important dick? Sure. Do I care that he is dating someone else? Of course, but as much as you would care after dating someone for a few months and then not having it work out. It's really not that big of a deal. I have been through/dealt with worse, courtesy of that actual ex of mine.

However. Do I need him emailing me to invite me to a fucking party at his fucking apartment where that girl he is currently dating will be? Particularly since we were NEVER friends (again, I repeat) to start with?!

No. For the love of all things that mix well with vodka, NO.

His unnecessary (much like everything else he does) reply ten minutes ago:

OK, that's cool. I love being by the beach for the 4th. Hope you have a great time. 2008 will be hard to beat!

- C

Go. Fuck. Yourself. And. The. Self. Important. Passive. Aggressive. Boring. Train. You. Fucking. Rode. In. On.

While I don't think this reply deserves another from me in return (and I don't think I can handle another pathetic reply from him), I wish I could send one. Even though ultimately it would make me seem immature and emotionally invested in him (not just livid over his poor judgment in invitations and emails) - not to mention completely insane - I wish I had it in me. Just a little bit.

Anyone have a kick ass story in a similar vein as this rant? Anyone successfully told the loser to take a flying leap? I sure could use a laugh right about now - wallowing in self-pity because of insensitive, self-important assholes is endlessly depressing.

xo d

Labels: boys, C, dating, I'm sad and disappointed...in myself, idiotic behavior, vom.com

While I am working my ass off today and am traipsing through NYC, I bring you the very first guest post EVER! And this mainly happened because I pressured the fuck out of a friend of mine and then drunk dialed him until he couldn't refuse (or was so annoyed by my behavior, all he could do was drink himself into a stupor and write away).

With that, I bring you Mr. SO@24's guest post. Yep. He is totally Streisand-ing it, coming out of retirement to blog again. But just this once, and only because I bothered him so much, he had to. I figured that he has some great stories. And is smart and funny and has a questionable drinking problem (like someone I know).

Consider yourselves really, super special. And have a great rest of your week!

xo d

***************

I hate when people ask you to guest post, but they don't give you any direction whatsoever.

It's like... "Oh, you want me to do your pre-cal homework AND spritz your Hello Kitty stationary with Dolce and Gabanna Light Blue?"

Needless to say, I've had a hellva time trying to think of something to write on D's blog. I drank a few beers and let the creative juices from there (as I used to do when I had my own blog), free association style. Here is my process:

Lemme think here. Shallowhags. A blog made up of booze & drunken hook ups. Shallowhags. HAGS. H.A.G.S. The classic yearbook "Have a good summer!" signature the awkward acquaintance defaulted to in middle school.

Got it! I'll share you a great story I have about a good summer with booze and a heavy dollop of drunken hook up. Perhaps one of the most awkward experiences of all time.

Let me take you back to my junior year of college. My fraternity brother Devin and I shared a room called "The Cellar". I'll draw you a little diagram (trust me, it's important to the story):

My roommate was dating a girl named Erin at the time. As most college relationships go, it wasn't anything serious; the foundation of which was you had someone who would always be there for sex after any given Thursday night binge fest.

One particular evening in the summer, our fraternity was throwing a party and I grudgingly locked myself in my room to cursing Dostoyevski and his brothers Karamazov so I could pass this summer class. Around 2 in the morning, I could hear Devin stumble into his room and the oh-too-familiar sounds of him pounding home with Erin quickly followed. I muttered under my breath and cranked up my Winamp (yeah, remember Winamp??) to drown out the melody that is drunken roommate sex.

That's when I heard loud, obnoxious knocking on the outside door. This was a very common event... guys in the frat would get drunk and want to wake up Devin or myself to see what we were doing and would pound on the door until one of us would answer. Fuck it was annoying.

Devin was not answering the door and after about 5 mins of continuous knocking, I was fed up. I grabbed my nearest skate shoe and planned to hurl it at knocker aka motherfucker. However (as you can see from my map), to attack the mysterious door knocker head on, I'd have to go through Devin's room. Devin. Devin who was still pleasuring the shit out of his girlfriend. So I climbed out my window, in my boxers with skate shoe in hand and walked around the outside. I wound up to aim this shoe right for this asshole's head.

As I approached the outside of Devin's door, I froze. The annoying knocker wasn't one of my drunk frat brothers... it was Erin. And a friend of her's who was livid.

"Oh fuck," I whispered. I instinctively tried to inch my way back to my room.

"So?? Is that you??"

"Fuck."

Erin approached me, tears streaming down her face.

Erin: Where the fuck is Devin? Is he in there?

So@24: I--uh--I...

Erin: I knew it. I fucking knew it. He's in there with some skank, I can HEAR it.

So@24: I--uh--I...

Erin started to bawl and I stood in the alley way in my boxers with a skate shoe still in my hand. I wasn't sure what to do, but I was starting to sweat. It seemed like hours had crawled by.

So@24: Hey Erin, do you want to uh... come in?

Erin nodded.

Goddammit.

So, Erin crawled through my window and her friend followed. Erin sat on my couch and continued to cry as I stood there not sure what to do. Meanwhile, the paper thin walls of my room weren't doing me any favors as we all could hear EVERYTHING going on the other side. Devin was leaving nothing to the imagination.

Erin's friend suddenly stood up.

Erin's friend: Fuck this. We should just bust in there and call that sonofabitch out.

I quickly lept in front of the doorway that joined both of our rooms.

So@24: Hey hey hey... let's not do anything we're going to regret. I mean, what good can really come of this, right? It's just going to be awkward for everyone.

So@24's inner monologue: I'm going to kill you Devin. I am going to fucking kill you.

My heart was pounding (much like Devin's hips into this random girl's) and I could feel it beating in my throat. What did I do to deserve this??

So@24: Erin, let me take you home.

Erin sniffed and nodded. I threw on some soccer shorts and a t-shirt and once again, we crawled through my window. I walked her and her friend back to their sorority, which was a good 6 blocks away. I swear that walk was longer than what death row inmates have to go through. She kept asking me "why" and all I could do was politely shrug and mumble some cliche's that made absolutely no sense.

I returned to my room cursing Devin's fucking heart that evening. As I crawled back to the window, Devin was waiting for me.

Devin: Dude. Was that Erin?

So@24: Yeah, asshole. Do you know I had to throw myself in front of the door so Erin wouldn't walk in and see you balls deep in whoever it was that was making howler monkey noises so the entire frat could hear.

Devin, permafried and not the least bit concerned looked sleepy.

Devin: Oh shit. Well, thanks man. I owe you a 6 pack or something.

I flipped him off.

It was now close to 3:00am and I still hadn't finished my reading for class. 20 mins later, I heard a familiar voice coming through Devin's room. Erin's voice. She was back.

And guess what came next? Sounds of Devin and Erin doing the flying hippo. My mouth dropped open. I couldn't believe it.

One of the great mysteries I'll chalk up along side the location of Jimmy Hoffa's remains and what really happened to Tupac. Why the fuck did she go back and have sex with Devin less than an HOUR of catching him in the act with someone else? Any one of you wish to shed some light on the subject? I feel like I'll be able to sleep better at night.

In any case, it turned out to be a great story... one I like to bust out at parties from time to time.

ShallowHaveAGoodSummer,
So@24

Labels: boys, chinging, drunk rampages, guest post, idiotic behavior

• See above. Who got really good tix for Pet Shop Boys at The Warfield for September?! MEEE!
• Travel Tip: You can carry booze onto a plane with you. Go to Bev Mo. Get the tiny bottles of booze (my faves are Ketel One and Absolute Ruby Red). When going through security, grab one of those free plastic baggies. Fill 'er up with your tiny bottles. Seal. Stick in carry on, breeze on through security. Get on plane, order free mixer (i.e. bloody mary mix, club soda, etc.) and enjoy.
  
• Downside? You will look like an alcoholic. But I mean, whatever. Not your fault that you're surrounded by boring people that find it strange that you order club soda with extra limes and then pour alcohol in the cup secretively under your tray.
  
• I am in NYC right now, typing from my pretty kick-ass room at the W. View of the Hudson and uptown Manhattan. No big deal, babies.
• I should have a guest post from a surprise guest (who incidentally just ended his own blog) this week. Topic pending (just putting on the pressure, Pans darling).
• What happens when you put a young woman who doesn't have cable at home in a really swank hotel room with cable? Uh. Someone who doesn't leave their room for two days. I have been forcing myself to leave every day, but yesterday, there was a showdown with MTV's 16 and Pregnant. Yes. I am in New York and had to violently force myself to shut the fucking sub-par programming off in order to get the hell out of the hotel. Pathetic.
• It's raining here. Stepping in a sidewalk puddle in NYC? Pretty much means I now have hepatitis. Sweet.
  
• Incidentally, does hepatitis make you lose weight? Just wondering.
• Because I may actively go get it. Via sidewalk puddle stomping.

OK, meeting time. Hope everyone is having a great Monday.

xo d

P.S. Gravy Train, R and my LM, G: Get here ASAP. I'm lonely. xo

Labels: travel

So here's the deal. I am having a quarter-life crisis, and as such, I thought it fitting to get me some therapy. Not just any therapy though, unlike most people that look for help of the mental variety, I do not want to (under any circumstances):

• Talk about my life and my upbringing and my issues, etc. I was raised by two very normal parents, who are still very happily married. There aren't any skeletons in my closet. I am really quite boring as a human being.
• Discuss any form of holistic treatment.
  
• Discuss anything with anyone who cannot prescribe the good stuff.

Now that we have my ground rules, we can move on with this ridiculous story.

I was referred to a psychiatrist (prescription power, check) by my mother (who is in the medical field as well). He was a private practice, working out of a small office near my place of employment. I was assured that he does not ask any "so how are you feeling, tell me about your relationship with your father*" questions, but instead listens to whatever problem you're having and then discusses medications that may help your issue. Perfection.

So I moved forward with scheduling an appointment with him, which is apparently done over email only, fine. I shot him an email and waited. And waited. And waited.

A week and a half after my initial email, I received a reply scheduling for the following Monday (this past Monday). I confirmed the appointment and went on my way.

Monday morning, I realized early-on that I could not make the appointment because of work. So I sent another email (again, the only method I have of contacting the doctor), apologized profusely, and politely asked to reschedule. No response from Dr. McEmail.

Tuesday, I received a one-line response from him that said:

I do not typically reschedule missed first consults because people don't usually show up for the rescheduled consult either.

That's it.

So I replied:

I see. Well I appreciate your consideration regardless. If you have any referrals in the area, I would appreciate the guidance as I have absolutely no idea of who to speak with.

Thank you again,
D

I mean, unlike a normal doctor or dentist, asking your co-workers, who already think you are insane, if they have a good psych in the area they can recommend ain't exactly appropriate talk 'round the water cooler. I figured the guy has to have colleagues in the area, right?

No response for the rest of Tuesday. Then. Yesterday happened.

Yesterday was one of those days in agency PR where your boss is emailing you at 5:30 in the morning, calling you at 6am, you have to rush into the office and spend the entire day fighting corporate politics to get ONE PIECE OF MESSAGING on paper for your client, while you are managing an event that takes place in New York next week for which EVERYTHING IS GOING TO HELL AND FALLING APART.

In the midst of this perfect (shit) storm, I received the following reply from Herr Doktor:

This wasn't clear in the email I sent you?

Alright. So. When you email me that response and I am in the eye of the shit storm at work (throw in a healthy dose of PMS as well) I will LOSE IT. And it? Was lost. Officially.

Dr. X,

I'm sorry, what wasn't clear? I don't consider myself to be a terribly stupid person, especially considering my success in as much as my education and career. However, I am finding this to be an increasingly upsetting situation and am quite confused as to what I am digesting as a rather pejorative tone. I am going to chalk it up to the lack of context and tone over email and move on with my day and find help with the issue I am having.

I was not asking you to consult with me any further, I understand your 'rules' on missing first consults. That was made outstandingly clear.

Best,
D

Keep in mind that I edited that email 6,000 times, each time removing an insult or ridiculously over the top statement. This was as dramatically mild as I could achieve.

I stewed in anger for the rest of the day, until I drove home after 14 hours of horrific work (with several hours left to go from home)** and had a complete meltdown. I was sobbing, driving stick, maneuvering in traffic while listening to Dr. Dre. There was even a moment mid-sob where I rapped along. It was a pathetic, pathetic sight.

Last night, after inhaling dinner and two giant glasses of mama juice, I received a reply to the above email. And clearly realized why men always say women overreact.

I'm sorry to have been so terse.
Crap. I guess I completely misunderstood what he meant? I don't really know how I was supposed to take his above one-line emails, and I know that I was in a mood to overreact regardless, but christ, do I feel stupid.

I am really unsure as to how I am going to take it from here. Either see the doctor (he did come highly recommended) and suffer through the embarrassment that he knows I am a huge, insane bitch, move on with a different doctor picked from the phone book, or just give up on therapy all together.

I hate myself.

***************

*To which I would respond, um, my dad is awesome, not to brag, but the guy has gone so far as to pick my car up from my apartment on a Saturday morning and get old Jane Honda a tune-up and oil change....while I am sleeping my hangover off. And, after doing so without batting an eyelash, he will return Jane to her parking spot with a full tank of gas - treats hidden throughout. Open my glove compartment, Skittles! Pull down the visor, hit in the head by Sour Patch Kids!

**I am salaried, obvi, so overtime is NEVER a part of any of the ridiculous hours I work. Also, keep in mind that my salary is like two dollars. Thanks.

Labels: I'm sad and disappointed...in myself, idiotic behavior, mama juice, ugh

...when you are me and have been wine tasting ALL day.


You find the ability to not only spill wine all over yourself, but somehow, get it on your back. Yes. Only I drunkenly spill wine down my back.

Anyone have a great tip to remove red wine from a rather expensive Anthropologie shirt? Thanks in advance.*

*I have already used Wine Off and Oxy Clean - it remains a dull, gray blotch.

Labels: drunk rampages, idiotic behavior, mama juice, ugh

via text (of course, fucking men these days)

Plan B: Hey there, do you ever make it out in this city?

Me: (uh, do you know me? oh wait, you don't) Hey, yeah, I tend to go out at least once per weekend I would say.

Plan B: Nice. Well, I'm probably gonna (sic) be studying this weekend but will see if you're around for the next one. Happy Friday!

***************
Pros

• While he did use the word 'gonna' he also used the proper, grammatically correct contraction you're. Ding ding!
  
• He did not use any text speak. No 'ur' or 'u'. I HATE TEXT SPEAK. Srsly.
• I have a sneaking suspicion he knows how to spell, given his complete lack of spelling errors. Like, for instance, he probably knows how to spell the word 'hilarious' and won't instead text me that I am 'halarious.' Just saying.

Cons

• Asking if I go out in SF a lot is not asking me out on a date. It is asking me if I will possibly go to a bar with a group of friends so that he can arrange a non-committal meet up, during which he will probably scope my friends, and then get me hammered enough to make bad life decisions back at his place. Romantic.
  
• Not only did he allude to a non-committal, questionable meet up, but he asked when he wasn't even available. Amazing.
• He's a douchebag stock broker whose only real talent (aside from a few blush-worthy details I will not share here) is wearing a very nice suit.
  

We'll see what's next. Also, read this article. Your going to find it halarious.

Labels: boys, dating, drunk rampages, idiotic behavior, ugh, vom.com

When I am not busy cringing because of Lady Gaga or pretending to ignore how much I love the new Kelly Clarkson album, I am listening to the following new and not-so-new tunes:

School of Seven Bells - Half Asleep

The Knife - Heartbeats

Tegan and Sara - Call it Off*

Blind Pilot - Buried a Bone

Wilco - Jesus, Etc.**

Jenny Owen Youngs - First Person*** or Led to Sea

The Antlers - The Universe is Going to Catch You

Hot Chip - Ready for the Floor

The Kills - Black Balloon

Missy Higgins - Where I Stood

Mum - Green Grass of Tunnel

Lily Allen - Never Gonna Happen

Beirut - The Concubine or My Wife, Lost in the Wild or My Night With the Prostitute from Marseille

Stars - Window Bird

The Most Serene Republic - Humble Peasants

French Kicks - Abandon

M83 - Too Late****

xo d

*Love the lyrics. Something about "maybe I would have been something you'd be good at" kills me every time.
**Yay! Going to see them at the Greek soon, and Okkervil River is opening. Woot. (thanks Jeff!)
***Really adorable little song.
****M83 is fantastic live, if you ever get the chance to see them. I pept them last week at Mezzanine.

Labels: music