Wow. I’ve forgotten how much fun Bacardi can be. Hopefully I won’t be feeling like death warmed over tomorrow.
I have been listening to a dance remix of Mesmerized by Faith Evans over and over and over again, and chatting with boys. One of whom told me he had recently been released from prison (third time doing time) and he can’t leave the state (NJ) until November and he hopes I understand. FUCK NO I DON’T UNDERSTAND! LOL! He was convicted of shoplifting to support his habit. Drugs, not booze, although he’s been off both for 25 months. I didn’t ask what, although I’m assuming something super awesome like smack.
And despite my drunkenness, I stopped myself from drunk texting MM. I wanted to quote Faith Evans by saying (and I may be paraphrasing, whatev) “Let me holla at you for a minute ’cause I got something I need to say.” What that something I need to say is, I’m not sure, which is what stopped me from texting him. LOL
And I added more fuschia highlights to my hair. I fucking rock.
And finally recovered from my hangover. My friends were shocked/in awe when I told them of my alcohol consumption this weekend. I have no interest in drinking, although I did offer to get smashed with Miss Lucy since a very stupid boy made her sad today. This boy lives in my home state, so we can pile in the Moniquemobile, kick his ass, then crash for free at my parents! And since Miss Sodapop admitted that she thinks my brother is hot, then hey, I may be playing matchmaker!!!!!
Oh! We have a new blog! During alcohol fest 2008, Miss Laci was insistent about buying a new domain … Soda and I found it more interesting to talk about penises so Laci went ahead and set up Klassy with a K where all four of us will be writing. Because we’re not really all that scandalous as of late but we are ALWAYS klassy!
I am going to put a poll to choose the winner in my caption contest so enter by 11:59 p.m. Tuesday to win a fabulous prize pack from Miss Monique!!!!
Matt called tonight and we talked for about an hour. Time flew. I so adore this stage of a relationship, when you’re learning about each other and everything’s interesting and you haven’t heard the same story 15,000 god damn times. 
ANYWAYS. We both like tequila and he was a bit horrified, I do believe, the other night when he saw my big jug o’ Cuervo in my kitchen. Ok, cut me some slack. Aside from the time that was captured on video, when Laci and I did a shot, I save the Cuervo for my margaritas. Jeez. He likes Cabo Wabo, a brand I’ve never bought because it’s out of my price range (about $50/bottle, I think). He’s bringing a bottle over Friday night.
Holy hell.
How am I supposed to drink tequila AND maintain my modesty? Please. It is physically impossible. Everyone knows that.
Yet …the relationships I’ve had where I’ve jumped into sex — always my own decision, but sometimes, let’s be honest, I’ve had sex just for the sake of having sex — haven’t worked out. So. My only saving grace is that Matt is about a foot taller than me and hopefully holds his liquor as well as, if not better, than I do … so maybe one of us will be thinking somewhat clearly. Or not. 
Oh yeah, and he totally laughed when I said that I can drink A LOT. Which I can. I not only have years of practice, I have genetics on my side. Pffft. I had six or seven drinks Saturday night and was just fine the next day, tyvm. Double pfft.
To what even I will do when drinking … alone, might I add. ; ) So I’m e-mailing a friend and we’re discussing exes, well, mainly penis size, and she sends me a MySpace page of some hottie from her past and I was all like, OMG he’s hot (yes I’m intentionally writing like a drunk college girl … kind of lol). So then I start to think about someone from my past with whom I shared an intimate relationship … and wouldn’t you know it. Just looking at his damn photo on MySpace made my hoo-ha close in on itself, in a figurative sense, that is. I’m not sure how that would work, literally.
Anyway not sure what my point is. I just haven’t drunk blogged in a while. Speaking of, my glass is empty. Wheeeeee. Ok now I’m good again. Wheeee.
In other news, a tidbit that I forgot to share with y’all about crazy Bill is that he fucking brought over strawberries and whipped cream — oh excuse me, Reddi Whip, Extra Creamy LOL — last weekend AFTER I told him that I don’t really enjoy mixing food products with my hoo-ha. OMG. The berries are moldy b/c I forgot to tell my friend S. to take them when she came over to feed the boys, but I just cracked open the Reddi Whip and squirted some into my mouth. Yum. So creamy. LOL Anyway the thought of being spread-eagle on the bed while some man covers my body in Reddi Whip makes me want to pee my pants with laughter.
So after the scandalous weekend — which was mocked during the return of IT2M fuck you very much — my beloved Ricardo seems to have been inspired. Not one but TWO hot women want to meet him. I told him I’d fucking bitchslap him if he didn’t go for both opportunities. Ok maybe I just said slap but now that I’ve thought about it, I would indeed fucking bitchslap him.
I am drinking a margarita. Sigh. This Cuervo margarita mix kinda hides the taste of the Cuervo tequila. Especially when I’m drinking 1/2 cup of tequila. LOL By the time Bill gets here, I should be nice and tipsy. I’m also wearing a white tank top with a lacy coffee-colored bra (not to be confused with Laci’s coffee-colored bra. LOL If indeed she has one.). Girlfriend knows what she’s doing. He’s not working tomorrow either. Let your minds work overtime on that one.
So last night he fucking dropped the L-word. As in “I’m falling in love with you.” What the fuckity-fuck??? At least time I didn’t say it back. I was like, that’s a serious thing blah blah blah. Tonight he will hear the story of what happened the last time Miss Monique said I love you. My beloved Izzy — everyone is my beloved when I am drinking tequila — is jealous. Heh. She gets more action than me though so it all works out. Adoration is nice though.
I can’t FUCKING WAIT to get my $$ from the sale of the company I work for so I can go on my grand tour of the east coast. Or at least Boston to see my beloved Janda — and perhaps even the elusive Mr. Janda! — and then the aforementioned beloved Ricardo, Izzy and perhaps — perhaps! — even my beloved NYC Watchdog. Ah, so much love, I can’t even stand it! If the midwest were more of a hotspot, perhaps y’all would come visit me but alas a girl can’t have everything.
Fuck me, I need more tequila. Where’s Lucy when I need her? Sister needs a drinking buddy!!!!
It’s 3 a.m. and I’m wide awake, mainly because I got home not too long ago. Chris and I were two of about 10 people wearing cowboy hats. Oh well. There were some hot cowboys there. Phew. A bunch of them line danced to My Maria, by Brooks and Dunn. I love that song, but I didn’t dance until they started in with the regular dance music. I think I danced for about an hour. My feet hurt. Some drunk young thing kept trying to take my hat. At first he hooked his finger under the brim and pulled me to him. I was like, dude, this is a gay bar. Even if he liked girls too, not interested.
I had to laugh because as I made my way through the crowd, the gay men were parting like the Red Sea. They would do anything to not touch a breast. LOL The bi ones moved in closer. I got my ass smacked several times. That never ceases to amaze me.
My one friend was dressed all in black, as promised; he looked much better than I expected. It took two drinks to dawn on him that he was a poser. No shit. My other friend showed up in drag. Skinny bitch had better boobs than me. LOL S(he) had on a blonde wig, make-up, a dress, fake nails, painted toenails … the whole 9 yards. I hadn’t seen him in person like that, only in photos. We made quite the trio: the poser, the drag queen and me. I was getting looks from the lesbians there, because I was drinking beer out of a bottle and wasn’t carrying a purse. I guess I looked kinda butch. But cute butch. 
I also got a lot of looks from the men because I guess they thought at first that I was a feminine guy. Always entertaining. I’m going to the Pride festival next week. I’ve heard the entertainment is great. I’m sure I will see lots of sparkly stuff!
OHHHHHH I checked my phone at one point and lo and behold, the Asshat had called — at fucking 10:47 p.m. I listened to the VM at the bar but couldn’t hear much. He’s been working a lot blah blah blah. Fucker was looking for a booty call. Christ.
I did NOT drink tequila tonight. I’m sure that will make me very happy when I wake up.
Tonight I’m going to country and western night at the gay bar. LOL I bought a straw cowboy hat at Super Tarjay after work; it’s light brown with a turquoise something or other around it. I bought two t-shirts, I’m not sure what I’m going to wear. I was feeling ironic. One shirt has a grumpy Care Bear; the other is light blue with a faded flag. I bought them in the juniors department so even the XXL is tighter than I’d normally wear … but they both make my boobs look good. (Too bad I’m going to the gay bar.) My compadre has a black hat and black boots to wear; he is also going to wear a black shirt. When I mentioned that may be a tad too Johnny Cash-like, he said, “Oh, I’ll gay it up!” I can’t wait to see what that involves. I offered to throw glitter on him, but he didn’t like that idea.
My replacement at work is losing her fucking mind. Her sister has terminal cancer so I’m trying to cut her some slack, but come on. Today she actually said, “It would have been nice to have known that” about a project, when I e-mailed her about said project six fucking weeks ago. I was like, oh no you di’int. She did call tonight to apologize. I think she may have been crying. Good Lord. I don’t know if you can force someone to take time off, but she’s a train wreck. If she can’t do her work, she needs to take some vacation time and let someone else take over.
I’m waiting for my toenails to dry. Tonight it’s Friar, Friar Pants on Fire. Yay, just like a real pedicure. NOT.
Despite my preventative efforts, I was hung over today. My usual remedy is a sausage biscuit and hash browns from McDonalds. But, I couldn’t come up with a reason to sneak out of the house to get one, given that my mom is already on my ass about Weight Watchers (she’s a fucking WW freak this week). So I suffered, feeling blech all morning. I took a couple of excedrin for my head but that didn’t really help. It wasn’t until about 5:30 p.m. when I ate some garlic bread that I started to feel better. Yay carbs. My parents never caught on to the hangover, at least they didn’t say anything. I didn’t mention the girl my brother met up with at the bar, he didn’t mention I was slamming shots of tequila. We are a united front.
I forgot to mention last night that my dad was waiting up for me and my brother last night. LOL How fucking awesome is that? I am 32, my brother is 25 and our dad was waiting up for us.
So Monday I left home bright and early — 6:30 a.m. to be exact — which was super cool, considering we ended up spending 45 minutes on the fucking plane “waiting for paperwork.” Once that crisis, later determined to be Super Bowl related, was over, we flew to Chicago — and I had roughly 10 minutes before my next flight left. So I ran — I repeat, I RAN — about 15 gates, bypassing Starbucks, bypassing restaurants, and made it on the plane. And then we sat for TWO FUCKING HOURS on the plane. OMG. It was unbelievable. We couldn’t get off, just had to sit. The issue this time was that it was too cold to fuel the plane. Uh huh. This delay also was determined to be Super Bowl related, as so many people had called in sick at O’Hare. Gah. Anyway, “A Very Good Year” with Russell Crowe is a very bad movie, but “Marie Antoinette” was pretty good. The flight attendants started the first movie while we were on the tarmac. That’s never a good sign.
Anyway, the conference was ok; the time difference was rough. The temperature was about 80 when we arrived, but dropped to the low 60s on the other days. I know, whine whine, but it was cold and damp. I only had one night of mischief, as I consumed somewhere between eight and 10 (best guess) raspberry lemontinis. I had not been that drunk in a very long time. I was stumbling, laughing and generally having a very good time. About 15 of us ended up at a karaoke bar next to the restaurant and across from the hotel, and I stayed there until 1:30 a.m. (4:30 a.m. at home). I danced with young men named Emilio and Jorge, who I think were gigilos, as Emilio was dancing with me just to find out which of my friends were gay. Of course, at the time, the conversation made perfect sense. I also ended up, despite my protestations, dancing multiple times with a colleague. It was a bit uncomfortable, as he holds himself out to be a devout Christian family man and well, let’s just say I have my suspicions. Anyway, we did a very poor imitation of the two-step to some drunk guy singing “Forever and Ever Amen” by Randy Travis.
Not once, not twice, but three times I was asked, by different colleagues who don’t see me very often, variations of “Why are you so quiet?” The first time I laughed it off, the second time it wasn’t so easy and the third time concerned me. I’ve known for a while that something isn’t quite right with me and after last weekend’s dramatics, I started to think more about it. It’s not that I’m unhappy, but I’m definitely not happy, and I don’t really have reason to not be. But I’ve gone through this enough to my life to realize what it is and what to do about it. And this will all seem very familiar to you or it won’t.
I took this photo with my phone the first night I arrived in California, from my balcony.
I love the ocean. It brings me peace. Tuesday morning, a friend and I took a 40-minute walk up and down the beach. It was glorious. The waves, the water, the big rocks …
But it is very very nice to be home.
January 2006
Rang in the new year with my surprisingly not-impotent-for-once boyfriend, Mark. I was pissed b/c his cable wasn’t hooked up yet and I couldn’t watch Dick Clark. He met my friends, then broke up with me a week later. I vented publicly and then cried. All in all, not a good month.
February 2006
Still smarting from the break-up, I didn’t eat for a week and then developed a sinus infection. Oh yeah, I was on a roll. But my brother and NYC Watchdog both threatened to kick Mark’s ass, so that was nice. I got the second inkling that my therapist may be a whack job. One of my good friends started dating a con man. That was bad.
March 2006
I started going out with Scott, a guy who I originally thought was “too nice” for me. Ha. We got off to a slow start but things went ok. For a few weeks at least. But before it all fell apart, he did call me out on not making myself vulnerable emotionally. I tried to make a joke of it, ha. Eh, kind of a slow month.
April 2006
In one of my most popular posts, I recounted the tragic tale of Pastor Carl, he of the smallest wee wee ever. Then Scott gave me $100 to buy lingerie. That was kinda weird. The relationship ended before he had a chance to see the garter belt and 5″ heels I bought with his cash. Oh well. The con man saga continued. I had an awkward run-in with Ryan and his father. Then I got pissed off and gave Ryan my blog address.
May 2006
So Ryan made his way through my blog archives. That was mildly horrifying for me. I declared my intent to have a great ass. Ryan dared to come over to my apartment wearing sandals and socks. The photo still makes me shudder. I attended my first wedding since getting divorced and decided the thought of remarriage made me feel ill. I fixed my own smoke detector, disclosed my struggles with depression, took an HIV test, nearly broke both my legs in a bathing incident, compiled the obligatory 100 things about me list, and ran into someone from my former life as a Sunday School teacher. Busy month.
June 2006
I started out the month by breaking up with my therapist. Crazy biatch. What I was looking for in a relationship started to become more clear, but then went right ahead and had some good sex anyway. (But a week later, I was pissed off at the lucky gent again.) I had a few run-ins with my ex-husband, first about taxes and then about some lame-ass text messages he and his then-gf sent me. In more fun, I had to ask my parents for money. My second job provided me with some entertainment, my co-worker taught me a new phrase, plus I learned what a corn-hole toss is.
July 2006
On the 3rd, I celebrated a very special day — my one year blogiversary spectacular. I received a drunken txt from a coworker, an e-mail from my ex-bf Mark pimping his latest community theatah project and a lot of sympathy for yet another night spent moping over my ex. I found out that I wasn’t pregnant, mocked the new use of my childhood bedroom, and nearly was charged $300 for shipping from IKEA. I mourned the marriage of my favorite WT crush, Kid Rock and won a contest on one of my favorite sites. Eh, the humidity must have slowed me down in July … Oh wait, I did have my first (and only, I think) protected post. And so few of you took the opportunity to read it. Sigh.
August 2006
I started out the month by complaining about how few people asked for the password to my first protected post. Ryan and I discussed porn and Kriss Kross. I cried over “The Life Aquatic,” the last movie my ex and I saw together; I canceled a date and felt kinda bad about it; I nearly died walking 5 miles; and I bemoaned my lack of anonymity. My ex showed up at my tanning salon and then saw him again (or so I thought). I came down with tonsillitis, finally went back to work and then went back to the doctor for a shot in the ass. I started feeling better, but then had an allergic reaction on the same day I had to give a major presentation. Obviously feeling better, I was in the middle of an intimate encounter when my cat intruded. That was awkward. My hairstylist cautioned me against sex while on antibiotics while my friend walked in on her ex-husband jacking off.
September 2006
Once again, I thought about leaving this site, or at least taking a little break. I had blue toenails, went floating to relax, had to deal with seeing my ex at yet another work event, and started seeing lots of people from my past. I went to a play and saw one more person. Crazy. Then, a jackass from the past resurfaced, I wrote a few haiku and I wondered if I qualified as “quirkyalone.” Reggie lost his brush-brush, my therapist called - again, and someone tried to break into my apartment. Good times.
October 2006
I got a new job plus made a date with my ex-husband. I learned numerology, went on the date with my ex and then talked about the experience some more. I reposted the reason why I love NYC Watchdog, as well as lyrics to a really good song that fits my mood a lot. My birthday was celebrated with balloons, lots of balloons, and a party. Ryan and I stopped seeing each other. Again. I talked to a drag queen, learned a new song, got very drunk and went dancing, then got mad at myself and realized I was a bitch. In a bad way.
November 2006
I started out the month with a business trip to Atlanta. Then, my mom gave me crap, but what else is new? I attended a class called “controlling your clutter, which, fyi, hasn’t worked yet. My ex called to tell me he was promoted, again and my brother e-mailed me a very wise message about not getting involved again with the ex. I found an old post that resonated with me and answered one of the dumbest questions ever at work. Despite being “too busy” to go out, my ex continued to do stupid shit, like send more lame-ass text messages. I had a date and it was a dud. Ryan showed up again, my parents discussed Xzibit, I went to Vegas and won some cash.
December 2006
I supported Global Orgasm Day and recorded first-ever audio post. I discovered I am a Tantric Master, trotted out my first high school column, posted my phone number, and wrote about my continued feeling of … blah. More crap from the ex, I confronted an ex-boyfriend, and bought myself a sweet-ass coffee maker. My brother gave me an awesome Steve Seagal clip to put up for Christmas then my dad gave us really weird Christmas presents. Finally, NYC Watchdog said some really nice things about me. I’m no. 2 on his list, yo.
