Archive for the ‘omg you actually sent that?’ Category

A Christmas Miracle!

The way we were

Last night I decided to celebrate the upcoming birth of your Lord and Savior by getting mad zany with a couple of equally crazy bitches who enjoy drinking and all around bitchery just as much as yours truly.  After several vats of wine a fella approaches us and asks if could be so honored to buy us a shot (in honor of the Baby Jesus), to which we replied, “Fucking duh”.  Now the problem with accepting any form of alcohol from someone with a penis is that you’re then expected to talk to them afterward.  Café Darkness does not like this and fortunately for me, I was not the one stuck having to make conversation (yay!) and continued being awesome while my friend fell victim to his rambling. However, being the good friend I am, I promptly responded to the third jab to my leg (which in girl speak means stop fucking ignoring the fact I’m getting ear raped by this douche bag and help me) and saved her straight away.  That’s when a Christmas miracle happened and the most awesome exchange of 2010 occurred.

Me to Friend Who Needed Saving:  I can’t believe Kelly is going to be at the Christmas party later.

Friend (Not knowing WTF I was talking about but knowing to just roll with it): I know, right? Whatta bitch.

Me: I can’t stand her. Even though it was years ago I can’t stand the fact she hooked up with Dylan in the pool when I was studying abroad in Paris for the summer!

Him: What happened? Who hooked up? What?

Me: That bitch Kelly hooked up with MY boyfriend in a pool when I was in Paris. She was my best friend but now I hate her!

Him: Oh my god, how long ago did this happen?

Me: High school, but still, I lost my virginity to him at prom! It was kinda a big deal.

Him: Oh my god, that is terrible!

Me: I know, right? I was so upset about it I ended up not going to same college as everyone else for a semester but then was so lonely I transferred back but then eventually left the show because I was too much of a bitch in real life to tolerate.

Friend (Who is about to lose her shit):  Donna Martin graduates?

Me: Barely. But yes.

Him (Who is clearly the dumbest and drunkest person in Richmond): God man, that really sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.

Me: Then my parents moved to Japan and everyone randomly continued living in my old house which always confused me. Anyways, you ready to go to this party?

Friend: Yes.

Him: Ok, I’ll let you ladies go ahead and go to your party, but I feel for you. Breakups are hard. Even from high school.

I’ll take my crazy with a side of crazy!

Something needs to be done to stop this

Editor’s note: In an effort to maintain my pledge of real talk, I present to you an uncensored, no holds barred description of events. Thank you and goodnight. 

I’m not sure what is going on in the Universe that’s making the fellas go bananas lately but it’s a cosmic shit storm and TLW loves! JK, I totally hate it and I’m going to need y’all to slow your collective roll for a hot second. 

1-Nicholas Sparks would be so proud.  If I request for to please not send me an email that will undoubtedly make our friendship awkward to the max, take my advice and do *not* hit send. Now shit’s all sorts of fucked. Instead, treat this situation like a rom com. Write the letter, then ceremoniously burn it, preferably near a body of water whilst playing The Cure in the background.

2-I’ll see you at the Rainbow Bridge.  My ex husband took the boys on Saturday and arrived an hour early for no real reason. Unable to figure out what to do with this extra hour, I suggested we start drinking. Don’t judge me.  It was after 10 AM and it was Strawberry Hill! For those of y’all not in the know, my ex has cried two times the entire time I’ve known him. One time was when his father had a health scare. The other time was after he watched King Kong.  For serious. Anywhoos, so he told me that he and his brother were throwing back a few (shocking) and he was suddenly overcome with sadness at the thought that after our boys die (which will be never) I would have no reason to talk to him anymore. Right. I asked him if it would make him feel better if I pinky swore that we could continue to talk even after Sammy and Scooter go to the light. He said yes, it would. So I did. Shoot me.

3-He’s just not that into you.  The third and final entertaining encounter involved a gentleman who wasn’t my boyfriend at all, then was kind of I guess and now isn’t again but we now sometimes we hang n’ bang.  And yes, I know I said I was marrying Jesus, but seriously if y’all believed that then I have some land in Florida I would like to sell you.  So it’s me and my friend at Strawberry Hill (who just so happens to be a guy who likes other guys like that)  and we meet up with my aforementioned friend who I occasionally make the sexy with.  I’ll go ahead and blame it on the alcohol because he assumed that we were…wait for it…sexing it up.  Apparently this was upsetting to him after drinking for 12 hours which makes me LOL to infinity because he just wasn’t that into me.  Gotta love the races. And day drinking. And gay friends.

Now that’s awkward

Richmonders love drinking.  They love drinking at new bars even more. Thus, when a new place to booze opens, rest assured it will be packed with people from hookups past.  Republic on Friday night was a perfect example of the Petri dish of awkward that makes the RVA easy to love! 

Awkward Run #1 involved a guy I worked with right after college and made out with a few times way back in day.  Let’s call this fellow Guy I Hooked Up With When I Was 22.  As my male companion and I were about to walk in, he walked out.  I didn’t recognize him since it has been 2 years since I was 22.  JK, more like 3, but moving on.  They start chatting since they work together in the same department.  I’m busy thinking about how cold I am and the big ole glass of vino I’m about to have when Guy I Hooked Up With When I Was 22 says, “Hello, TLW” at which point I recognized him and was all, “Oh snap! Hello!”  God I love running into people I haven’t seen in years who somehow miraculously work with people I am currently dating. It’s so neat! 

Awkward Run In #2 was with a guy I briefly dated last winter. I saw him across the bar but decided to ignore him as is my custom.  Apparently he didn’t feel the same way since he sauntered up and chatted me up like we were besties.  Unfortunately for him the feeling was not mutual and I brushed him off.  I’m not sure what part of, “I am here with someone” translates into, “text me at 1:00 AM after a trillion more brewskies”,  but I was less than impressed to wake up to find a “good seeing ya” text in the morning.  First of all, why do you still have my number? I haven’t talked to you since February.  Secondly, gross.  Yet again, this why I believe there needs to be a device installed on all cell phones to not send text messages after one in the morning. 

I don’t think I’ll be going back to Republic anytime soon.  I’ll let the newness wear off so I can have my lady drinks solo and not with ghosts of hookups past.

hello my name is Barista

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.

Mean Girls

So the Barista attended a bachelorette party this past weekend that was, well, a train wreck, at best.  It is more fitting to describe it as Britney & K-Fed getting together to film season two of Chaotic (btw this may happen, fingers crossed).  Seriously.  Girls were fighting over who could get the stripper’s phone number.  Say it with me ladies….eeeeewwwww. 

More disturbing than the sweaty man-whore beast was the debacle that ensued the next morning.  Me and my Russian bestie headed around the corner for breakfast.  A few minutes later, a Tasmanian devil whipped into sight – fangs bared.  This devil was not happy that she did not receive a special invitation to breakfast.  She found fault with the general “who’s hungry – we’re going to grab breakfast now” sort of notice.  Two things are important to note here – me and the Russian know this chick marginally, and secondly, the Russian fought all her natural instincts and remained calm during the shit storm.  Let me stress again, we do not know this woman.  After a three minute tirade, the Barista eventually asked the Tasmanian devil to please calm down or go away.  The little monster chose the latter, called yours truly a biatch and then sent the following email.  My official response is in italics:

I know you basically told me to shut up but I need to tell you this for me.  But I need you to go away for me.

I am so completely shocked about what happened this morning. I’m not.  You both really hurt my feelings when you ditched for breakfast. You are crazy.   My feelings were hurt when you left without me. You are crazy.  I thought you would have wanted to hang out with me since we don’t get to see each other very often.  And when I told you that I was upset you didn’t even care. In fact, your reaction was to hurt my feelings even worse.  Uh, whaaa?

You act like we don’t have any history. We don’t.  Like we aren’t any kind of friends. We’re not.  Like my feelings didn’t even matter at all. They don’t.  Maybe it’s because I’m delusional and we really aren’t friends. Good job here.  We’re not friends.  If we aren’t please tell me so that I won’t expect that you’ll want to hang out with me like I want to hang out with you. We’re not friends.   Because that’s what it comes down to. I just really wanted to hang out with you because I like you all.  ?!?!?!

Don’t feel obligated to write back. I don’t.   I don’t want any drama so hopefully we can at least get to that point where it won’t be awkward. Hopefully I’m not delusional and it was just a bad morning and we can just go back to normal.  If by normal, you mean I only have to see you once every five years, yes.  Let’s be normal.

Meow!  I hope I didn’t just burn a bridge…I’d really like to know who wins the stripper’s heart.

 

 

Oh me so horny, me love you long time

Actual conversation via text message that occurred this afternoon:

Him-What time will you want to start partying?  (Translation-What time can I head up to Richmond, get drunk and sex you?)

Me-Did you mean to send this to me?  Did we have plans?   (Translation-I may be a slut but I’m not your slut. You’re like a paycheck-around for just a little bit once every two weeks and I’m donezo).

Him-Cowboy Junkies. Are you cancelling?  (Translation-Please don’t cancel. I already bought the tix and want sexy time).

Me-Is it cancelling if we didn’t have plans? :)   (Translation-get lost) Please note-use of saracastic smiley face-one of my favs.

Him-It’s all good.  (Translation-You’re such a bitch).

Instead of hanging out with that guy, The Lone Wolf and Barista will be frequenting any number of haunts in Shockoe Slip drinking copious amounts of alcohol in celebration of all the nice things that have been sent our way via Cafe Darkness in the last few days.  We’ll be the ladies ordering multiple woo-woos.  Feel free to catch up with us as we probably owe more than a few of you (Tobacco Ave, The Checkout Girl) some liquid cheer.

867-5309

“I’m going to make breakfast in the morning. Please come by.  Can I call in AM?” 
 
Kinda gives you the creeps, huh?  Above is an actual text message I received at 2:20 AM this morning.  Texts such as these are the result of a lethal combination of too much booze and a friend that hands your number out to any guy that seems interested (Love ya anyways!!!) Unfortunately for Emeril Lagasse I wasn’t able to make breakfast this morning. As a matter of fact I slept through that meal entirely and headed directly to lunch town. 
 
I’ve said on more than one occasion that all cell phones need to come equipped with a device that activates at 11:00 PM each night. This device will then ask you if you really think it’s a good idea to send that?  I mean, really?  The later it becomes the more insistent said device will become and will tell you that to send that text (Hi! Me drunkey-where u?) is a bad call.  Any texts attempted to be sent after two AM will be held in a queue for review in the morning.  The amount of anxiety this would prevent would be immeasarable. Imagine never having to scroll through your phone again and get that sinking sensation when you stumble across a sent text, “Wasted now.  You come over?”  This same device will not permit any outgoing calls to be made more than once.  You will never have to go through your sent calls and see you called the same person six times in a row in a span of five minutes. 
 
 I think I’m going to patent this idea and start marketing it ASAP.  This could be my ticket outta here!!! 
 
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