RICHMOND, VA. Fan resident Sam Smith experienced what he called, “a complete and total fucking meltdown” after using new girlfriend, Ellen Davey’s, shower for the first time this morning. “I stayed the night at her place and decided to just shower there before work”, he explained. The couple recently starting dating so Mr. Smith’s use of the shower had been limited to inebriated encounters after late nights in smoky bars. “Never” he claimed, “sober”.
Upon entering the shower Mr. Smith was immediately dumbstruck by the sheer number of shampoos and conditioners. “The only thing she said before she left was to not use her ‘good stuff’, but what’s ‘good stuff’? This says it’s extra volumizing and this one says it’s clarifying. What’s better or worse about either one of those?” Mr. Smith’s confusion only mounted when he noticed the presence of both soap and something called “body wash”. “What’s the difference?” he helplessly asked. “Soap washes your body, right? Or, no? Jesus Christ it’s crowded in here”, he stated as he knocked over 12 bottles of miscellaneous shower products.
After noticing three different types of face wash and two different types of shaving cream he exited the shower not only smelling like “Sensual Sunrise” but also questioning his showering methods over the past 29 years. Furthermore a quick Google search revealed that, “poofy, plasticy thing with the holes” was not, in fact, meant to remove excess soap scum or something like that, but rather, a “loufah-ey shower poof thingamabob” you squirt body wash onto, whatever the fuck that is.
I heart this so bad. Please enjoy it, too?
I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. Dating these days is different than it was back in the good ole days. First of all, I just kind of just sat in a booth with my friends and got hammied and wondered why I never met anyone. Plus, I drank a lot of beer, so I felt full…a lot….Secondly, and most importantly, there was no Facebook. Or maybe there was but who cares-that’s not the point I’m making here. Facebook is a great way to judge get to know people and a great dating tool. I recommend you use it to the fullest extent!
Once friending someone you may or may not bang, ask yourself: how many friends do they have? Too many is more desperate than too few in my humble opinion. It screams “Like me! Validate my existence! Please!”. Too few and you wonder what the hell the problem is. Were they home schooled with the Duggers? Were they into role playing fantasy games? I bet they like to attend Renaissance Festivals in present day and get upset when people forget it’s not 1513 and answer their cell phones.
Take a look at their pictures. Are they one of those freaks with only one picture up? Is it one of those uber creepy I-took-this-myself-without-my-shirt-on jobs? Maybe they’re just not photogenic or maybe you’re my ex husband? (Zing!) Conversely, do they update their shit every week with 89 new pictures of “River Weekend September 18-19th!”? Read: too much time on their hands/too into taking pictures. People who are too into taking pictures creep me out. I just want them to put the GD camera down and live their life for the love of God. No one wants to look through 35 pictures of your awesome hot dog. Trust.
Once you’re “friends” with someone you just met and barely know you now have to decide how to proceed. It’s psychotic to start going through their page and start “liking” this and commenting on that. It also raises red flags with your real friends who will ask who the hell is “fill in the blank” and why has that person liked everything you posted for the past three months? Then you have to give up the deets and your cover is blown. I prefer to be more of a silent sleeper and comment never. I’m like a benign tumor-I’m there-but not all up in your shit.
As you can see it’s a delicate balance. Similarly to telling guys the name of the blog you write, one must tread lightly in the cyber world. Don’t give up your info lightly because then you’re screwed and not in a good way. Like sexy times, think twice before you seal the deal and protect yourself when you can.
And I’m back from the longest extended break I’ve had since 1995. Wow, time off will destroy your liver do a body good. I’ve traveled the country, watched a few excellent people get hitched, celebrated a big anniversary of my own and cleaned up one hell of a mess from the kegger that TLW threw at my crib while I was gone. She said she invited everyone she knows and only left out the people she refers to as “stains”. Wait, you weren’t invited? Oh. Ouch.
Sike! TLW was surprisingly well behaved. I think she even recycled while at Casa de Barista. In addition to being an excellent house sitter, she also humored some of the world’s dumbest messages sent to her at all hours by yours truly:
2:49 pm Just thought you all should know that I’ve found the promised land. It’s very drunk here.
4:33 pm wine til you drop. bets on how many til you quit. I am having an impressive showing.
5:45 pm Forgot what we are discussing. In the black and have no cigs.
6:03 pm Remarkable. I taste the rainbow. Let’s be homeless here.
8:06 pm Don’t like Jessica Simpson and flat irons
1:53 am Yes still drinking beers
10:38 am Avoiding epic hangover with a bloody
It’s so good to be home.
A recent trip to a local Mexican cantina much offended my feminine sensibilities and impeccable upbringing upon the arrival of what is called a Kickball League. Apparently Kickball involves a large, rubber ball being rolled toward a player of another team. The object of the game is to “kick the ball” and run toward three different bases to Score. Do not allow the opposite team to catch the ball lest you be considered Out!
I was most horrified to learn that these teams are Co-Ed in nature and involve the consumption of inexpensive, ill tasting beer during and after the game. Both men and women entered the drinking establishment together without regard to proper rules of Decorum, Chaste and Virtue. The women of the League wore what could only be described as shorts one would wear to a Gymnasium and their grooming was much disheveled. They were rather Orange in colour suggesting many hours manual, outside Labour. Several of them suffered from a peculiar condition of their Finger Nails making them appear an unnatural shade of white on the Tips. The men were equally Orange and favored much Gel in their Hair. Some had intricate and bizarre facial hair designs called Chin Straps.
They consumed pitches of beer out of small, plastic cups and were quite loud and raucous as the evening progressed. Many shots of Jagermeister were taken amongst this group resulting in Cavorting between both sexes in attendance. They took pictures of themselves in various poses that I can only imagine were posted to Facebook the next day! The volume of their voices continually increased and some even Danced to songs whose lyrics practically made me Faint. I feared that soon I would see these wild, untamed beasts fornicate right in front of my very eyes! I quickly requested the waitress bring the cheque and fled immediately lest I also be forced to participate in the mayhem that would surely shortly ensue!
Back in the day we blamed it on the rain. Now we blame it on the alcohol. Either way, just don’t blame me because it ain’t my fault! Anywhoos I fucking loved Milli Vanilli when I was a little pup. Then I found out that Milli-or was it Vanilli-was full of shit and they were lip synching. It was my first lesson in disappointment and finding out that people aren’t always who they seem to be. It’s a good lesson to learn and I thank them for that. Regardless, please enjoy this early 90’s jam and have a great weekend, RVA. Please-keep it sexy, okay?
Said to my coworker outside of Steal Your Soul, Inc: “Dayum, girl. You sure are wearin’ them shoes!”
I’m not sure what that even means, but I love it. I would have given that gentleman my number in a hot second.
To my rat bastard coworker who keeps stealing my coffee creamer-I hate you and I will find you. I will hunt you down and avenge my French Vanilla Coffee Mate! I’m not sure what part of my note that reads: “TLW’s coffee creamer-do not steal, please! Am poor!” you don’t grasp but apparently the concept of “mine-not yours” is too difficult for you to understand. You steal my coffee creamer, prepare to die!
I’m still house sitting for Mr. and Mrs. B and I must say living in the West End is pretty darn nice. People wave at you when you drive by and they don’t even know me. It’s just me-driving-and then all of a sudden there’s someone waving. Is nice. Another bonus is when I hit up 7-11 and don’t get hassled by a trio of hobos for spare change. I also don’t have to wait for a million and one fools to buy their scratchers either. People seem healthier, too. And in all around better moods. I need to get back to the City-a girl could get used to this.
T Saur’s lost another lady love. I guess dating dead beat dads with a nasty ass goatee was not a turn on? According to Mr. T the reason things ended is because she didn’t like it that he “packed a gun” on dates. Yes, you read that correctly. T Saur packs heat. On dates. In the RVA. At night. Still believe in the right to bear arms now? Just checkin!
I’m pretty sure I want to make excerpts of conversations between Shugs and yours truly a regular part of my Wednesday routine. Last night we were at New York Deli grabbing an after dinner cocktail and she looked around rather confused:
Shugs: Shades, who are these people that are here right now?
Me: What do you mean?
Shugs: Well, I mean like those guys that just left. Why were the three of them wearing such tight, black jeans and weird T-shirts? What do you call that?
Me: Hipsters, Shugs. Dirty fucking hipsters. Stay away.
Shugs: What’s a hipster? How do I know when I’ve seen one? Should I be worried about them?
Me: Well the easiest way to identify them is through their unique clothing choices they all wear, super cool hair cuts and consumption of god damn PBR.
Shugs: I’m scared, Shades.
Me: Oh, you should be.
All 22 of my semi feral cats have one-so why can't I?
Recently I’ve been off the radar here and there. Cell phones (even Billy Mays!) can be a bit of a stain at times. I like to be free and live my life! People expect you to be reachable at all times and that isn’t always conducive to my lifestyle. What if I’m “busy”? Or napping? Or too stoney maroni to hold an intelligent conversation? Or trying to find my Zen like feeling of peace and tranquility whilst sitting on my couch watching Big Brother? It’s times like these when I just don’t answer Billy and let that shit go to voicemail for a hot second.
To further complicate matters apparently boys think it’s rude to answer the phone when you’re hanging out. Undivided attention and all. When did this happen by the way? I don’t remember people getting all bent out shape about this prior but what the hell do I know? Combine all of these factors and you get a situation were sometimes TLW just can’t answer that phone call, text message, or voicemail.
I can’t blame my friends. They just want to make sure that I’m not, “Dead in a ditch somewhere!” They also want me to know, “God I was so worried about you!”, “I was about to call [insert another friend’s name here] to see if they had heard from you!” and finally, “Did you know there was a HOMICIDE reported this morning? Yeah, I thought that was you!” Guys, I totally get it. If I had a friend who refused to answer her phone for hours on end and was prone to irresponsible behavior, I would be concerned too. But I don’t, cause that’s my job so then there’s that.
I’m going to start carrying around a honing device in my purse that will alert m’ladies to my current location. Somehow I’ll need to figure out how this honing device will also communicate that I’m alive and well and I’ll call them back later-maybe tomorrow-but definitely soon and to not be overly concerned about my whereabouts because I’m more than likely just fine but a little tied up at the moment. (Get your mind out of the gutter with that one, please!) If anyone has any recommendations of said tracking device, hit me up. My friends would be eternally grateful!
1-Shakira. Holy shit, y’all. Not only do I think she wrote “She Wolf” about yours truly but I’m fairly certain she could be arrested in many countries for those moves. Jesus Christ. Makes a girl a little bi-curious. Do yourself a favor and spend the $1.29 on this little ditty off iTunes. “She Wolf” is the new “Fire Burnin”!
2-Not working. As much as I hate Steal Your Soul, Inc for stealing my cash money to offset their poor financial decisions, I really do like not having to be here too often. I don’t have to work a five day work week for the rest of the year! It makes having to sell off my worldly possessions that much more rad knowing that I can at least sleep in a little bit beforehand.
3-Sugar Free Red Bull, Red Wine, Woo Woos. Consume aforementioned goodies in that order. Of course this is nothing new. I just want to reiterate how awesome they are.
4-Dismissing boys unceremoniously when facts that are disagreeable to my sensibilities are discovered. Example: I went out with this one fellow several times recently. He revealed that he hated mayonnaise. This is unacceptable. How the hell could I date someone that hates on something I love? Dating a Republican would be easier in my opinion than someone who smack talks mayo. Next thing I know he would tell me he doesn’t like short sassy blond girls who curse in public. Give me a break. NEXT!
5-T Saur taking vacation! Green Beans and Collard Greens that sonofabitch actually took a day off! He sent out an email notifying seemingly the entire company last week informing everyone that he will be gone Monday, September 21st. As with all of his emails, I gloss over it and immediately file it under “useless crap”. I can’t tell you how jazzed I was this morning when I received the second email reminding everyone that he would be out of the office, today, September 21st and could be reach via cell phone. Then he told us all he would miss us and see us tomorrow. I don’t miss T Saur but I’m stoked I have his cell phone number. Fun with late night pranking!