Tuesday, April 26, 2016


I don’t think many doctors (or my mom) would agree, but I DON’T think it’s a terrible idea to get someone you’re interested in completely shitfaced drunk just to see the kind of person they really are.


I say this isn’t a terrible idea because seemingly normal people bring out their true colors and intentions when shitfaced. Some turn into racists, others like to get into fights and punch strangers.

These are all dating deal-breakers, but how are you supposed to KNOW this information without the test of too much tequila?

It was convenient that this guy, Marty, who hit on my friend Stacey, got shitfaced drunk over the course of the night, because had he NOT gotten shitfaced, Stacey would have accepted a date.

But his true colors came out and it turns out he’s gross.

Marty started out his pickup line very eloquently. He and Stacey were both waiting in line to get a beer and he told her that he liked her glasses. (Yea! Four eyes unite!)

“They look really good on you, I’ve never seen glasses look so good on someone,” Marty said.


Stacey adjusted them on her face sheepishly and said thanks. They both introduced themselves. His name was Marty, and he made some joke about how only cool people have names that end in Y.

They chatted until they each were served a beer and then went their separate ways.

The next time Stacey went to get a beer, Marty also went to get a beer, meeting her at the bar and offering to buy her one. (Also eloquent.)

Stacey accepted and they talked briefly about what part of town they each lived and what they did. Then Marty asked her for her number.

Stacey told him that she didn’t give her number to strangers and what if he was a creep and wouldn’t stop calling or texting?


He laughed and then told her to get his number and he ended up writing it down on a napkin.

“Call me Stacey, with a Y!” he said. Cute. Then he disappeared.

Stacey was flattered and actually WOULD HAVE CONSIDERED calling him, but then, an hour later, Marty resurfaced…shitfaced. Thankfully.

He came up to her as she was dancing and…seriously…said, "hey…I really like your glasses.”



“Uhhh...yea…I know,” Stacey said.

“Hi, I’m Marty,” he said.


“I know,” Stacey said. “We talked earlier.”

The napkin was still in the back pocket of her jeans.

“OK, good,” he said. Then he got close to her ear and whispered, “I’m really looking for some hot P*SSY tonight.”

Then he eyed her up and down.


As if that was even a remote possibility!


Stacey walked away from him and went back to her friends, telling them about how this seemingly cute guy who liked her glasses and bought her a beer is not cute at all but is just looking for a girl to sleep with.

THEN…as if it was planned, Marty came up to Stacey’s group of girl friends and repeated the exact same line. 

Seriously, the same guy who she had told her friends about just a half-hour earlier, excited about their maybe date.

Marty came up to a girl who WASN’T Stacey and whispered in her ear, “I’M LOOKING FOR HOT P*SSY.”



“NOT IT!” the girl yelled, and ran to the bathroom.


And then Marty then got worse. 

He wouldn’t leave them alone even though they told him to go away and the BARTENDER had to come over and tell him to leave. And escort him out.

“I can’t believe I actually considered calling him,” Stacey recalls. “I almost went out with a guy who got thrown out of the bar AND used the P word!”

It was clear that she dodged a bullet, and it was all thanks to alcohol. Copious and copious amounts of alcohol.


New dating rule #2423532: GET THE GUY YOU THINK IS CUTE DRUNK and see if he solicits every girl in the bar to have sex with him.

This may be the smartest idea I’ve ever come up with.

(adjusts glasses.)


Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Preparing my presidential candidacy on my birthday

Today I am 33. Which on one hand (well not entirely one hand….more like 6.2 hands…uhhh nerd) sounds really OLD and then on the other hand, I still can’t run for president so I’m not old enough to officially be responsible for a nation.

So, I’m still young.

It’s also my twin sister, Joy’s birthday…her first birthday as a MARRIED woman, which is exciting and all, but she’s also not responsible enough to run a nation, ring or no ring.

Looking back, 32 was the year I noticed that my body was no longer Superhuman and there are repercussions for my constant gallivanting around town.

Hangovers started becoming crippling, for one thing. Trips out of town for vacation took longer to recover from. (I know, life is so hard.)


I can’t just work out at the gym for a week and see results immediately anymore.

I have to wear glasses almost exclusively now.

I turn down complimentary bread at restaurants with the excuse “older people” use about how “no thanks, I’m already ordering pasta and I don’t need any more carbs to go to my THIGHS!”


(I will turn in my cool pass now.)

But 32 was a bitchin’ year all the same and I did a lot. More than some people do in a lifetime.

I traveled to Austin, Texas, Suwannee, FloridaLos Angeles, the Dominican Republic, New Orleans FIVE times, Edisto Beach, SC and Washington D.C. These were not work-related trips.

And yes, it took me a week to recover from each. 

(Especially Austin, I searched Twitter a week after my flight to see if anyone had posted a picture of a passed out blonde girl in cowboy boots sprawled on the floor of Concourse B.)

I was in three weddings at age 32.

Simultaneously, I joined, and then quit, Match.com. 


I got a dog! (No I did mean to non-sequitor DOG after mentioning Match.com, but it’s fitting, and it stays.)

I quickly learned that dogs get up at 7 a.m. every day to eat.

I’d like to think that even if my body is getting DUMBER each year (since when is it OK to just start rejecting my nightly bottle-of-wine-and-Netflix life choices, body???) 

...My brain is getting smarter.

I am realizing the financial benefits of staying in sometimes. (seriously, take away my cool card.)

I’m trying to be a better cook

Joy and I are finally selling the house we bought 8 years ago. These are all "smart choices," or so says Money Magazine.

Also, I’m reading Money Magazine.

In fact, currently, I am hobbling around because I pulled something in my leg while painting the ceiling of the bathroom last night.

(At least I didn’t try and balance on a bar stool in the tub this time. See? Getting SMARTER.)

At midnight last night, when it was officially my 33rd birthday, I was scrubbing the sh*t out of my oven, head completely inside of it, like the witch from Hansel and Gretel.

Not out with friends taking a tequila shot.


But even so, I’m hopeful and excited about what 33 has in store.

Because say what you will about my life choices, they aren’t boring. 

(Or cheap! –Citibank)


I'm going to try and write more. I am currently writing a pilot for a TV show, a mystery novel, a children's book and a young adult novel in which I hope to include a vampire. (#NeverStopHustling)

That should keep me busy for the next 365 days.

But if somehow, SOME WAY I find myself bored, it's good to know that in two years, I’ll be able to run for president.


I think my dog will enjoy the White House lawn.

Oh, and, obviously...Joy for Vice-President. 

Here's to the BEST 33rd year ever.



Tuesday, April 12, 2016


As someone who has been single from ages 28-32, I can tell you for a fact that the “wedding ring check” on a guy is very real, and *almost* as important as checking out his ass in jeans when he walks to the bathroom.


…Which is exactly why I’ve noticed a super disturbing trend lately: married guys aren’t wearing their wedding rings.


I can’t imagine how this is OK with their wives.

(I also can’t imagine how this would be OK if the roles were reversed and their wives ventured out to a bar with no ring.)

But this past weekend I noticed three married guys with naked ring fingers, and now that I think about it, two more bare ring fingers came across my eyes earlier this month.

No, these men aren’t going through a divorce. 

This has totally ruined my fairytale about how guys are super proud of the fact that they’re taken and want the WORLD to see their “I’m taken” jewelry.

Also, I thought guys really wanted a daily reminder of the time they spent $25,000 on a four-hour party.


All joking aside, though, THIS IS BECOMING A TREND. And there aren’t any good excuses for it.

The DUH obvious reason is to come across as single and sleep with other people. 
(See: here).

But then there’s the excuse that someone lost too much weight, or gained too much weight and now the ring doesn’t fit.

Obviously that person hasn't been to Wal Mart’s elegant jewelry case and found a right-sized ring for $9.99. 

Fun fact: this is also the price of a ladies’ diamond ring at Wal Mart.

(Side note: Since when is it attractive to gain so much weight that you can’t fit your wedding ring on your finger???)

Females never seem to find excuses not to wear their wedding rings, especially when in public. 

Even the girls in the Crossfit class I took for a month wore Lance Armstrong-type rubber rings on their ring fingers!!

Say what you will about Howard Stern, but even he has the decency to tattoo his ring finger with his wife’s name so that even if he “forgets” his ring one day, people will knows he’s married.

The most hilarious case of a naked ring finger happened in an Uber, where the attractive Uber driver was congratulating my friend on her recent engagement.

“Marriage is great!” he said. “I’ve been married for a year! You’ll love it!”

My friend then scanned him from his hairline to his fingertips, old habits of the single girl (LOL)

“Well…where is your wedding ring?” she asked.

“Oh…I uhh….forgot to put it back on,” he said uncomfortably.

“What do you mean?” I asked from the back seat, frowning. “I didn’t know guys even took them off.”

“LOOK I WAS IN THE SHOWER!” he screamed.



My friend and I looked at each other, muffling our laughter.

“MY WIFE KNOWS HOW MUCH I LOVE HER, OK!!?!??” he said, as if simply asking him the ring question was the third degree. “OK??!?!”


"Your wife might...but other people don't," I wanted to say. 

Then I thought about all the young hot girls he drove around nightly.

I almost said: Have you checked out those Lance Armstrong rubber rings? They’re waterproof!

But I doubted he would care. 

And suddenly had no interest in checking out his ass.


Tuesday, April 5, 2016


There are some things you really just need to tell someone you’re dating. "Deal-breakers" if you will.

Like, I used to be a woman.

I’m actually your cousin.

…I’m currently awaiting trial for a felony cocaine charge. (Speaking of, have I mentioned that I wrote a letter to OKSTUPID telling them they should invest in background checks?!?!?)


I believe that telling your new girlfriend that you are technically married counts as “need to know.”


For the record, there are plenty of girls who don’t mind dating someone who is “technically separated,” especially here in South Carolina where a separation lasts an entire year where no one is supposed to date anyone else.

But my friend Hillary didn’t live in South Carolina. And the guy she was dating, Joe, wasn’t some poor guy waiting out a 12-month separation sentence.

No, he didn’t tell her he was married at all. And he STILL wouldn’t have, but, alas, he slipped up.

Hillary and Joe dated for FOUR months. They met while watching some college game at a bar and connected right away. Joe was cute and had a really good job and was supposedly single and available. 

He spent the night at her place a lot. But surprise!!! (not really), she never went to his house.

It’s because he lived about 45 minutes away and “didn’t want to subject her to the ‘burbs'” and always traveled to see her, in the cool, hip downtown.

But then, right as she was getting excited about this new relationship, he slipped. 

While they were talking at her house about something as innocent as cheese.


Hillary said something about how she didn’t like a certain type of cheese when Joe blurted out casually, “Oh, yea, my wife doesn’t like that kind either.”


(insert record scratch) ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

His what???

“YOUR WHAT??!!” Hillary yelled. This was the first time he had ever mentioned that he had a wife.

Hillary said the blood drained from Joe’s face and that...OMG...


Like  D’OH!!!!!


“You have a WIFE?!?!” Hillary exclaimed, scrambling to put on clothes.

“Oh, no….um…no…we’re…uhhh…separated!” Joe said.


Note: He didn’t say “ex-wife.”


She thought back to their conversations over the past four months, all those “getting to know you” conversations about places they had visited and lived, college, jobs, etc. 

He failed to mention that he oh, GOT MARRIED during this time.

What a tool.

Hillary promptly kicked him to the curb and blocked his number from her phone.

And thanked God for their cheese conversation.


(Forehead slap.)


You might like...

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...