The EXponential Kiss Off Rant

I see you crazy pants!

I see you crazy pants!

There are some exes in my Rolodex I don’t mind hearing from… from time to time. Actually, I’m lying. I could care less. And frankly, I’d rather not. I like to think an ex died or simply vanished. Or disintegrated. Disintegration would be a great one. All in favor? Anyway, If I do happen to run into one, I’ll be cordial or -more likely- just pretend I’ve met their unknown twin. We all have someone in the world that holds a resemblence to our likeness. What’s a Rolodex. Nevermind, pay attention. I’ll play dumb when they say hello. Using my name and everything. Oh hello. Gosh, you do look familiar sir; But, alas, I havent a clue to who you are. Have a beatufiul day…. *wink

So then there are exes that stalk my parking garage and circle my building when I have done all I can to cut all ties to that dickhead’s manic hysteria. Let me share with you a recent, exboyfriend-almost-encounter. Holy Stalker Batman!  I had just parked my car and I’m just minding my own business, talking the phone to my mother about… likely, nothing in particular and I get up to my floor level and what do I see out of my cell phone oblivion peripheral?  You’re what? Right. Aforementioned dickhead. Terribly attempting to make his swift escape without being seen… and, what should have been an easy three point turn, naturally, wasn’t.  Because it’s him- the neanderthal screws it up by making some sort of twenty point turn. Let me elaborate. Remember the yellow, holely toy balls, made for babies? You know the ones, they’re round, they have all kinds of shaped holes for you to match and stick the like-shaped blocks into the ball. They’re usually yellow. They are yellow.. with all different kind of shaped holes on the… Ok. You get it, right? Maybe slower adults -like said woodchuck moron- should play with these. Work on his cognitive skillset that he could put forth into the world. I know, helpful suggestions are a positive. I’m a giver.

Maybe watch a few seasons of Burn Notice...

Maybe watch a few seasons of Burn Notice…

I stray… Ok, so I see this stalking parody playing out and not only do I notice him, his crappy driving incompetence, and his lackluster attempt at creeping up on a person. I mean, it was really like watching Wiley Coyote. He was also in his mother’s car. Oh my God. I know. Yup. You know, there are fairly clever shows on television to aid in the many ways one could follow a person undetected. Clearly, this fellow hadn’t watched any of them. And likewise, I’ve come to the conclusion he didn’t factor in that he could roll through my  apartment complex incognito. Keep your day job super sleuth! Neither in his vehicle, nor his mommy’s. There are NO other carros in my domain that look like either of those vehiculos. It was totally him and even if you confronted crazy pants; he’d lie and deny. Dumbass. I should have taken a picture. I mean, I can rock some pretty sick selfies; but, when there’s an AHA! moment happening, I completely drop the ball on relaying these events immediately to social media. Hmmm, I might need to hire an assistant for this… Noted.

Evidently, I have disintegrated you from my life for a reason. Three great reasons, actually. Exes. Are exes. For a reason. There is NO logical explanation whatsoever -unless you share kids with a former spouse- especially when I am in a committed, loving relationship do I need to conjur up your ghost into my new reality. Let’s have a seance. Bye casper. Not so sidebar: If I have had to block your number from calling/texing, block and report you across all my social media for harrasing my pages, and I have basically fallen off the face of your earth? It’s time for you to let this pony go and move on with your life. Hi-Ho Silver, AWAYYYY! Yes, you screwed up. I’m a catch. And I’m pretty freaking fun, funny AND awesome. Yeah, I’m a triple threat. Deal with it. Away from me. By yourself. And for fucks sake, save your gas money and refrain from visiting. Crazy pants.


Depo Sleepy No-No

images-1I’m used to not sleeping. It’s part of my genetic makeup or something… and I’ve learned to just accept it as a regular, co-existing nuisance. Except last night, I couldn’t just not get to freaking sleep. It’s the Depo.  I was literally awake for hours like a crack head. Has to be the Depo. Minus the wandering around the streets. Depo what? With a shopping cart. Full of God-awful, smelly items that truly serve no function. Can we get an explanation on the Depo thing? Who knows, maybe bums have found a way to reuse the one, lost shoe, missing its shoelaces. Whew. Mystery solved. Awesome, hobos. Kudos!


Ok… but this time, I want to play the dirty wench *wink

Geesh… Fine. Impatient fuckers. Explanation en route. So, I went to my gynecologist and opted to try the depo-shot. Ahhh… Great for my bedtime gymnastics Olympics, I’ve been so boldly carrying on about; Yet, terrible for my much needed sleep. That I’m not getting. Because of the “Game of Bones.” Or Crankiness that has crept up so suddenly… and subtly. Oh and magically, instead of my monthly visitor I’m getting onset nausea and dizziness. Which -by the way- is easily sent away from a romp in some hay. True stroy. I tried it. He dared me. I had to accept the challenge. Anyway, ALL side effects to this shit, is front and center. My body is trying to fight me and I’m saying NO. I will NOT concede DEPO! NO To your… succubus ways of mania. Find my sword, a
battle is to be won! I’m a pretty even keel mother fucker so it’s irritating to watch my mood swing from left to right. And try to keep it contained on top of it. So get ready Depo Shot for a sweet ass kicking! And if I don’t keep a grip on that shit early on? I’ll find myself back to the single life, dehydrating onion bread, all by my lonesome. Or so he has told me. Awareness is half the battle -right- and I’m a smart MF so best believe, I intend to figure it out, keep a lid on it, and let these side effects slide through as if they’re not happening. Until they are no longer happening. Take that evil birth control. If this stupid shot is anything like the pill I used to take, once my body adjusts to this crap; I’m kopastetic. And I’m hoping I’m on the right string of thoughts here because these couple of nights I’m up all night having conversations with myself I need to corroborate some kind of master plan to catch up on freaking sleep. Because… of all of bed sexnastics. Mentioning it again? Oh yeah. Because I’m exhausted. And I’m proud as to why. Wow.
IMG_0870Clock watching stinks when you can’t sleep. I’ve been up and down. Played a few piano tunes. Don’t worry, did it quietly. On my keyboard. Didn’t want to agitate any of my annoying sardine-packed neighbors who could care less about anyone else but themselves (#citylife) alas I still opted to keep the volume low. I did some writing. Rehearsed some lines for a thing I’m preparing for… Blah. Blah. Blah. Then the nausea and dizziness set back in. Ugh! Now, if you or anyone you know of has had this freakin shot, it’s either on the favorable side of really rave reviews or really terrible side of it, and of the NEVER do it, and of the you might DIE variety. Seriously, some people should have their keyboards taken from them. I did physically meet a gal -in person- though who had a great experience. She was conveniently seated nexted to me in the lobby though… Maybe the girl in my doctors office was a setup. Like a birth control spy! Strategically placed to encourage, confused and unsuspecting gyno-goers to get stuck by the depo! Well played medical system. Well played.
Or maybe my insomnia is just intensified by the birth control injection. Similarily, as my erotica conglomerate, can surely be a factor. Who the hell knows. But, I’ll take that. And the yumster man-machine who’s keeping up. Hooo-weeee! Alright, fine. Not sure if it is the depo-provera shot or not; But, as I’m watching the tick tock minutes click on by; it’s only swiftly, passed a mere three fucking more minutes, than the last time I checked the clock. God fucking bless it.

Caveman Chokehold

Ah, cuddlers. One. Two of you out there. None? Ugh, I’d like to be… Do you hop out of bed at the first sight of a canoodling? This has got to be a trick question. How amped does your anxiety get when your lying down with someone and while he’s snuggling away, while you’re scanning the room for your booties and track suit onesie. Rhetorical. Ok. So, maybe it’s just me.  I’m the forever hopeless -commitment phobe- romantic. Huh. Stay with me. I’ve seen so many failed relationships, bad eggs, and poor role models in this area of life that as I get older, I am realizing that NOBODY can figure this shit out. Bad eggs? Yes, guys who suck. Or smell rotten. Like a bad fart. Keep up. Circling back… Which -so fittingly- why my bff sent me this video; which quirkly, describes me PERFECTLY. It’s hilarious and describes exactly how I act with a dude… even when I totally know I could love the fucker for long time. Yes, I have it in me jerks. Quiet.

It’s funny when you meet the guy of your dreams how scary this relationship territory can be… and I use the phrase “guy of your dreams” loosely. No man is perfect. It be nice… but that’s going to be a lonely road ladies if you’re waiting for that knight in shining armor to ride in. But, what happens when you meet said superman and he totally gets your anxiety, has similar past expereinces with the opposite sex and has a little kink in his action to keep you interested? It’s too easy to just be the girl in that video. It’s much harder to honor your romantic feelings and fucking just go for it. Dammit. Yes girls. You’re screwed. *scans the room again* Well, we’re only four stories up… the jump from that window can’t be too tough. Fuck. I’m totally screwed. I opted to run; but, that didn’t work out either. This mother fucker had ESP or some shit and decided to put me in a chokehold. Yep, like a caveman. All twisted up and contortionist-ed… There was literally NO. WHERE. TO. RUN. FML. My bag I had brought for the weekend was fully packed. Ready for the fast break before sunrise. So there I was, like stretch armstrong, trapped in all his nuzzling glory with no escape. Plan deviated. No booby hatch. No flying the coup. Nothing. Just the rush of an anxiety-filled hottie squishied inside of the most comfortable queen-sized bed -with sweat-proof sheets- one could ever encounter. And here’s the frightening part… he knew it. Sexy bastard.

I’m a pretty open book. We know. Ya’ll get that by now. A little too open. Hush. But still, in dating, it seems, as I’ve been told numerous times… I’m “unreadable.”  What? I love to read! I’m also, supposedly… Unpredictable. I’m not, I’m pretty damn boring. Creature of habit status. But put me in a relationship-worthy circumstance, with a beefy handsome dude that knows how to awaken the beast inside of me? …I’m running for the hills like a band of merry men after a french cow lands squarly on one their “horses.”  Flying vaches over castle walls never gets old. (skip ahead to the 2min mark for your start point on the video;you’ll get it) Any man who can figure out how to get me into submission… KUDOS TO YOU! I’m a tough nut to crack. Apparently. Not really.  I guess all it took was a little bedtime asphyxiation to show me what I wanted… And here I thought all I wanted was a peach-banana smoothie. Next to the trap door. With my weekender.