THE SMELLY CROTCH LADY

This is my new most embarrassing moment. Me, my daughter and my son flew from LA to North Carolina. It was an all day trip on the worst airline ever – US Airways. Day started at 6am and after going through 3 airports, we finally arrived at 1am! So 19 hours of traveling. And as most of you know, when you travel, you just feel dirty afterwards. Maybe all the millions of peeps that have been in the same seats, the dirty airports. We were on the last leg of our journey, waiting for our last plane to leave and it was 10pm at night. We had to run from one gate to the next. It took us 15 minutes to run through the airport and I have my backpack, my kids two backpacks plus my purse all strung across my body while running so I got a little sweaty. If you’ve read my blog before, you know I sweat. A lot. So finally after the ditz at the US Airways counter tells us that our plane has not arrived and ‘it will not arrive until 8:30 and then it will take at least another 20 – 30 minutes for don’t come back till then’, we decided to go eat. We come back at 8:20 and are promptly told that the plane just left without us. Okay, so after finding out that now we have to fly into a different airport over an hour away from my sis’s house instead of the airport we were going to go into which was 15 minutes and it wasn't leaving until midnight, I am so pissed off. Oh wait, this was supposed to be a story about an embarrassing moment. Okay, so we sit down. We are defeated and tired and I am so mad at US Airways, otherwise known as U suck airways, US Worst airways, whatever, they suck. So many people have bad US Airways stories. SO we are sitting to wait for 2 hours and the seats are all crowded. People sitting next to me on each side. My 5 year old son puts his head into my lap to rest. He promptly jumps up and says VERY LOUDLY, “ewwww, it’s smelly down there!” Of course everyone within earshot heard which was at least 5 people and they were all going on the flight with us. At that point, there is nothing to say. I just kept looking straight ahead and thanked God that I was not in my own hometown. Great, now I am not only the woman who told the US Airways gate agent she’s "an idiot and I fucking hate this airline", I am now the smelly crotch lady too. Thank you son!

NEW YORK CITY & MINI PADS - NOT A GOOD COMBO

We visited New York City. In the summer. It was hot. Very Hot. I am a sweater, meaning, I sweat. A lot. Even if it’s 75 degrees out, I sweat. I am fat. It does not help the sweating. I decided to go walking in NYC. I decided that I would wear a few mini pads to soak up the sweat that would surely be between my legs since they rub together. A sweaty fat woman whose legs rub together when she walks - I know, kind of gross but true story. I also decided to wear a skirt since that would be the best for airflow. I am walking, feeling confident because it’s New York City. I love Sex and The City so I must be looking like an independent woman. I put on makeup, did my hair, I was feeling great. People were looking at me. Wow, I must really look good today. People were actually noticing me. I love this city. Something is on my leg. I just casually try to kick it off without looking down because I am feeling great, looking as good as a fat girl in the city can look and this is New York City. Where is Mr. Big? So people are really looking at me, wow, must be the blond hair! What the hell is still on my leg? Whatever, I don't care anymore, I am almost back to my room. So after walking around the city for HOURS I go back to my room and go to the bathroom. I am sweaty but it’s okay, I was looking hot in New York City. Okay, where are my mini pads? I know I put two on my underwear and they are gone. WTF? So I take off my skirt and yes, one is stuck to the back of my skirt and the other one is gone! Gone, gone, gone! I can only assume that whatever was stuck to my leg earlier was my mini pad that, because I sweat so bad, had lost all the glue that usually holds it in place and slipped out from my underwear and slipped down my leg. Who knows how long I walked around the city with that one stuck to my leg and one stuck to my skirt. Thank God there are millions of people in that city. Yes, I am embarrassed. No, I don’t ever wear mini pads with skirts anymore.

VIBRATORS AND THE APPLE STORE-NOT A GOOD COMBO

So I thought I was done with the most embarrassing times in my life but a new ‘most embarrassing moment’ has happened and I will share it with you for two reasons. One to hopefully prevent any of you from ever having this happen to you and two to hopefully prevent any of you from ever having this happen to you! I was talking in my kitchen to my sister and cousin who informed me that every woman they know owns a vibrator and every woman should own one. I did not know this and I did not own one. They recommended The Rabbit. A few days later, I got another “great recommendation” for The Rabbit from another friend so I thought ‘wow, this thing must be great!’ I decided to buy one. (I guess my husband is just really good in the sack so I never needed one.) I did a few web searches and found a few different websites that sell it and many other interesting items that I did not even know existed - fake vaginas – WTF? I shouldn’t be surprised but I was feeling like there was some big secret that I never knew about and why didn’t I know this until now? Anyway, I bought one and it is great. So about a week after I purchased this new item, I had an appointment at the Apple store to learn some new video editing tricks with a personal computer trainer. About twenty minutes into our session, my trainer needed to access a webpage because he did not know the answer to why I could not get the video from my camcorder onto iMovie. As he types in a command, the last ten internet searches that I did pop up with their actual webpage. So here on my computer screen for anyone within a 10 foot radius to see very clearly is a webpage with pictures of huge vibrators with names like "massive cock" just staring us both right in the face. Apple stores are very crowded. Oh my God, I just sat there for a second thinking ‘you have got to be kidding me? What do I even say?’ So I put my hand over the screen to try to block the images and I mumble something about “I am hosting a bachelor party and I needed to buy some favors!” Yeah, like he believes me. So I start sweating and getting red in the face and just thinking, ‘please figure out this out so I can get the hell out of here.’ But of course he needs to ask another associate a question because he cannot figure it out and so the other associate comes over, does the same command and yes, it pops up again. So now these two guys are probably thinking “wow, this woman is a perv” or “holy crap, this is hot!” Either way, I want to get the hell out of there. So needless to say, they never could figure out my problem and no, I will never go back to that store again! Remember people, always delete your browsing history!

THE QUADRIPLEGIC MASTURBATER

So I am driving and I pull up behind that arrogant anesthesiologist, the one with the license plate that reads "putuout" and we are stopped at a red light and I start to fantasize about how rewarding it would be to rear end him just a little bit, just enough to piss him off and how satisfying it will be for me to do this and then somewhere along the road in my head, the car veers way off course into no-mans-land.... so I start to fantasize that I do rear end him, I slowly tap the back of his car because he's an asshole.   All I want to do is nudge his car so that he gets really mad and then I can be like "oh I am so sorry" because you know that this man's car is more important than anything else.  So I nudge it a little bit and what happens?  My airbag goes off and in a freak accident hits me so hard in the face and neck that my neck snaps back and boom, I am instantly a quadriplegic....Damn it. This was not part of the plan.  So since I have no insurance because I am poor and my family can't care for me because they think I am an idiot and they are embarrassed by me because all I can do is drool and make hissing sounds, I am placed in a state run facility for people like me who are in a wheelchair and can only move their eyes, a la Christopher Reeve. So everyday after speech therapy, which sounds a lot like this:                                                                                      

the orderlies wheel all of us into a room where they are supposed to exercise us but they don't, they masturbate in front of us because they know that we can't do anything about it at all except for look at them with disgust in our eyes.  WTF??? Orderlies that masturbate in front of quadriplegics because we are defenseless?  Talk about people that are going to hell....so all of a sudden I snap out of this weird fantasy and decide no way in hell am I rear ending this prick in the ferrari. But by this time my car is so close to his car, he rolls his window down and screams at me, "back off lady" to which I reply  "fuck you pal, your stupid car will not make me the quadriplegic masturbater"  which of course  does not come out right when I say it out loud because I am so freaked out by how my fantasy turned freaky and weird way quick and that this could actually happen, but this man looks at me like I am obviously off my meds so I just decide it's best if I just drive off and never return to this intersection for a good 6 months.  

WORST DATE EVER

So I have been thinking about funny things that happened to me in the past and I decided to write about my worst date ever. We all have a worst date ever story and so I thought I would share mine. This is a true story, none of it is made up or even exaggerated. And everyone that knows me knows that I used to have a tendency to exaggerate.  Like if there were 10 people somewhere, I would say 100, just to get  my point across. Not to blatantly lie, I guess just to  make the story a teensy bit better. Since reaching my late 30s, I have been working really, really hard not to exaggerate at all.  So this my friends is my true story of my worst date ever.  The year was 1989, I was in college. There was this guy named John that I had been checking out when I lived in the dorms when I was a freshman. He thought I was cute and I thought he was cute but because of his hectic track and field schedule, we just never got around to going out. It was just always one of those things where his friend told me he liked me and I told his friend I liked him but we never really talked other that smiling at each other. Fast forward now to 1993, my senior year, and I see him at my home away from home, a bar.  We talk and he says how he wanted to go out with me so we decide to go on a date.  He picks me up at my house and proceeds to tell me that he has to go to the mall to return some pants. I thought it was a set up and that when we got to the mall, he would have some kind of romantic surprise waiting for me.  No, it was exactly as he said. He had to return some pants.... Okay, so that was weird, no?  You're so busy that you have to consolidate your dates and your errands?  He literally spent like 30 minutes picking out more pants after he returned the ones we came to return.   Did I mention that we barely talked the whole car ride to the mall which was almost 30 minutes?  And I love to talk!!!  So then he suggests we go to Pizza Hut because and I swear he said this "my friend works there and we can get free pizza and beer."  Wow, this guy is smooth. So once again I am waiting for him to say something like "just kidding" but nothing. He's serious.  So I figure what the heck, beer is always good.  So we order and we get a pitcher of beer with those small 6 ounce plastic mugs for the beer. He pours me one and him one and then he says he has to go to the bathroom. So 20 minutes later he comes out of the bathroom. I figured he had some type of stomach problems, obviously he's got the rhea or something, what guy is in the bathroom for 20 minutes if he's not crapping or whacking?  Anyway, so I finish my 6 ounce beer (which I was slowly nursing) and he comes out of the bathroom finally, notices that I drank my beer and says "wow, what are you some kind of alcoholic???" to which I did not reply, I just poured another one.  Once again, I was waiting for a "just kidding, sorry I took so long" but no, he is serious.   This was a 6 ounce beer people, not 12, not 24.  And yes, I probably am some kind of alcoholic but most guys love a drunk chick on a date!  What kind of loser would ever complain that his date is drinking too much?  So we sit and eat our free pizza and then we go to a movie that he did pay for and then he drove me home.  I think we literally said 10 words the whole night after the pizza place and then he dropped me off and I thought, "wow, all this time I thought he was just shy but he is just a dumb jock, he literally has nothing to say.  So thanks John, for my worst date ever!!! Please ladies, email me your worst date ever stories!  I would love to hear them.  

THE SHRIMP EFFECT

Okay, so I just learned something new and I am  a little surprised that I had not learned this earlier considering the fact that I am 38 years old and a woman. I've been one my whole life unlike Chaz Bono who is changing into a man so maybe she/he never realized this and I am wondering, what happens after she changes, will this still happen??  Okay so here goes. I am talking to my friend Jennifer and we start talking about MOPS groups and how everyone brings food and how one day, someone made a really great looking shrimp dish but no one would eat it because of the 'shrimp effect'. And I said "What are you talking about, what is the 'shrimp effect'?"  And she said "you know, when you eat shrimp and then you smell fishy down there?"  and I said "wtf are you talking about,  I have never heard this" and she could not believe that I had never heard about the shrimp effect before in my life. And I could not believe that I had not ever heard this before either and so I started wondering, 'sometimes I smelled fishy in my nether region but I just figured it was because I hadn't showered in a few days or because I had a yeast infection (not that I get yeast infections that often but that is a side effect) or something like that. So I decided that I would do a little test to see if I actually smelled "shrimpy" after eating shrimp. So I ate some shrimp for lunch and didn't really notice anything right away so I ate some more shrimp for lunch the next day and then that night while going to that bathroom, I almost fell off the toilet, I smelled so fishy!!!!  Wow, how did I not ever associate eating shrimp with smelling fishy.  And how come my friends never clued me in on this situation?  Did they not know?  I didn't know. No one ever said anything to me about this my whole life so I figure they must not have known.  Well, wake up ladies, I am telling you so that you too can be fishy free!!! So that my friends is what the shrimp effect is.  And so I wonder, what happens when you change from a woman to a man, do you still get the shrimp effect when you eat shrimp???? Please ladies, let me know if have heard of this shrimp effect before....

MY ADD MADE ME SLUTTY

Hello everyone, it's been a while since I posted because I was out of ideas. I thought I was this really funny person and then 3 blogs in, I was done, toast, I peaked, not that I was even that funny, but I thought I had so much in me. What a wake up call.

Anyway, I was thinking about my life and how I can never stick to something I start. I started scrapbooking, invested thousands in creative memories stuff and then made it through my daughter's baby book to 6 months and then I was done. Bored. Let's see, started a make-up blog and that lasted about two weeks before I became bored with that too. So I started thinking 'my whole life has been about getting bored with stuff way to easily' and it got me to thinking about college and how I hooked up with so many dudes and why I got bored so easily. So I did some research and now I can blame on my college sluttiness on ADD! You know, Attention Deficit Disorder. Thank goodness I have something to blame for my lack of morals in college. I thought I was just your typical run of the mill drunk slut in college but NOOOOO, I have ADD!! Finally a way to explain why I could never stick to just one guy and how I would be so "in love" with someone only to be so "grossed out" the next day! (That could have also been the beer goggles but let's just pretend it's my ADD). Here is the definition of ADD:

Definition: What is Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD)?
Attention Deficit Disorder is a biologically (it's not my fault I was a slut, it's my parents!) based condition causing a persistent pattern of difficulties resulting in one or more of the the following behaviors:
inattention (new day, new guy)
hyperactivity (some might call me a spaz)
impulsivity (sleeping with a guy after knowing him for two minutes?)
Inattention (new day, new guy)
difficulty attending or focusing on a specific task. People with Attention Deficit Disorder may become distracted within a matter of minutes (in my case, it was usually one night). Inattentive behavior may also cause difficulties with staying organized (e.g. losing things-my virginity), keeping track of time, completing tasks, and making careless errors (uhh, need I say more?).
Hyperactivity
difficulty inhibiting behavior. These people are in constant motion. They may engage in excessive fiddling, leg swinging, and squirming in their chair and sleeping with men (I added in this last part but it fits, right?).
Impulsivity
difficulty controlling impulses (hello making out with dudes in the middle of a bar that I just met). These people do not stop and think before they act. They say and do whatever comes into their mind without thinking about the consequences. They might say something inappropriate and regret it later, blurt out a response to question before a person is done speaking to them, or have difficulty waiting for their turn in line.
ADD or ADHD - What's the Difference?
Clinically, the term ADHD stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. A person may either be diagnosed with ADHD or ADD depending on whether they are hyperactive or not. It is possible for someone to have ADD without being hyperactive. To accommodate this possibility, ADHD is often written with brackets around the "H" (i.e. AD(H)D). You may also see it written as AD/HD. There are generally three types of AD(H)D:
Combined Type (hyperactive, impulsive, inattentive)
Inattentive Type
Hyperactive, Impulsive Type
Around the web, in the media, and the general public you will often hear/see ADD used as a generic term to describe the whole disability. You may also notice that many people with ADD have developed their own unique terminology to describe themselves (e.g. "ADD'ers" or "ADDults")

Okay, so there you have it. In a way, I am so glad that I finally self diagnosed myself because now I can start blaming my parents for me being sleazy earlier in life and not take any responsibility for my own actions. Thanks ADD!

NOSE PICKING IN YOUR CAR?????

Okay, today I was going to write about finger toes but that will have to wait until another day because as I was driving today, I saw something that, once again, bugged the crudites out of me. Nose picking in a car. Why do people pick their nose in their car???? I know that everyone picks their nose sometimes but to actually see it is another thing altogether. I understand that everyone needs to pick their nose sometimes but why in the world would you do it in your car??? Not sure if these people are aware of the fact that they are surrounded by windows all all sides of them? Um, do you not think that people can see you? Do you think that you are all of a sudden invisible when you start picking? Like, magically people cannot see in your windows while you're picking? I remember when I was in 2nd grade and I thought that if I covered my nose with my hand and then picked with the other, nobody would know what I was doing. Well of course they knew what I was doing. But I was in 2nd grade, not an adult. Do you know how disgusted I get when I am driving down the road and just happen to look next to me and there is someone digging in his nose so hard it looks like he's trying to touch his brain??? I swear, I get so grossed out and I wonder, what would possess you to do that in your car where everyone can see you??? You really can't wait till you park and then maybe bend over in your car and give a quick pick or go to the bathroom like a normal person??? Or how about blow into a tissue? Come on, is it really so important to get it out right this minute? Unless you have a bug that crawled up there and it is going to eat your brain, then you are not allowed to pick and drive. No one wants to see that crap. And don't stop at a light and do it either, that is worse than doing it while driving. At a light, you have people on all sides of you watching you pick!!! Ewwww, grosss. Please people, a little common courtesy while driving goes a long way.

IT'S AN EMOTIONAL RIDE

Today's article is related to my previous article, it is more about people and their cars and the stupid crap that they put on their cars and how exhausting it is to drive these streets here in California. So here goes a typical day. I leave my house and have to wave at the stupid people in my neighborhood with a "baby on board" sticker on the inside window of their Jetta. Okay, didn't think they still made these and certainly didn't think anyone still put them on their car.

So I pull up behind a lowered Acura and begin the daily ritual of reading all the crap that people put on the back of their cars. This car reads:

Jose Garcia Gomez
12-15-35 - 4-28-08
Rest In Peace Beloved Grandpa

Ummm, where to begin on these? Okay, first of all, like I said before, unless I know you, I don't really care about you or your dead grandpa and guess what???? My grandpa died too asswipe, millions of people have a grandpa that they loved that died so quit putting obits on the back of your car. There's enough to read while driving as it is, we do not need to add another whole new category of stuff to put on. So after cussing at this guy through closed windows, I proceed to the next light where I pull up behind a ferrari with the license plate that reads "putuout" and the license plate frame reads something about an anesthesiologist and how they "knock u out" or something lame and arrogant. So now I am pissed at the stuck up jerk in front of me because he went to med school and I'm am not smart enough and so I am feeling a little bit like a loser and non-achiever and I'm also pissed at the idiot because he thinks his license plate is so clever. Ooohhh, did you think that up all by yourself??? Oh my gosh, you're so creative....Blah, blah, blah idiot. And I am only a mile from home. So then I am driving and notice off to the side of the road a bouquet of flowers by a lightpost with a bunch of cheap dollar store mexican glass candles with pictures of some saint and a homemade sign that reads "Jeremy, forever in our hearts, taken too young by a drunk driver". Ummm, okay, now that is sad. Now that is something that is okay to put out there. Poor kid, I am starting to cry now now and I am feeling a little sad. Geez, all I wanted to do was go to the store to buy milk. Okay, I am jolted out of my sadness by a red bmw 528i that drives by with a license plate that reads "myrd528". Come on, really? I seriously think this person deserves to get beat up. Really? Really? Someone really puts that on the back of their car? I am amazed at the creativeness of this person and am trying to catch up to ask them what their license plate means but I decide I might punch the person for being stupid so I retreat. I regroup and I am on my way. I pull up behind the mother of them all, the minivan mom with 6 kids, each playing a different sport and each student of the month at their respective school, etc. etc. So now I am once again annoyed but lucky for me the light changes before I can read all the stickers. So I pull into the turn lane, I am almost at the store but wait. Another car in front of me, another life story. This car is littered with do gooder stickers. "Support autism now", "gay people have rights too", "shut up and drive", "go green, my prius is cleaner than your prius". Oh wow, that is witty... I bet this loser doesn't even know a gay autistic person at all. By now, I am thoroughly exhausted and I have not even reached my destination. So I go arrive at the grocery store and because I am have experienced every damn emotion in a 5 minute drive, hate, anger, self-loathing and pity, sadness, general malaise (I love that term), I am drained and cannot make good decisions so I buy junk food and go home and eat. I hate driving in California.

WHY DO PEOPLE PUT THEIR LIFE STORIES ON THEIR CARS???

Okay, today's writing will tap into something that just bugs the crap out of me: those little stick on people that families put on the back of their cars that basically tell everyone their life story. You know what I am talking about. Those little cheerleaders or soccer players that are pasted on the left or right back windshield and sometimes have the person's name below it. Or worse, there will be a whole family in a row and their names and their hobby will be underneath. What is wrong with people? First, they are annoying because I do not care about you or your family unless I already know you so quit trying to project this perfect family life onto everyone driving behind you. Second, I don't believe you are happy, I think that you think that if I put these happy little stickers on my car then I will have the perfect little family and life will be great, blah, blah, blah. Third, you are advertising to all the weirdos and pervs out there your info, your kids info and giving them way too much info. You are telling them your familys' info and probably also have a sticker like this: "my child was student of the month at this school". So now the pervs know where your kids goes to school, what their names are, what sports they like and all your family members names. Come on peeps, are you really that desperate to let the world know of your "perfect" family. I believe that people that put that crap on their cars that say how happy they are, really are unhappy. I think they should make real life stickers for cars that people put on the back like a dad with a bottle of vodka in one hand and one of those caption bubbles that reads "God damn kids, get to bed before I whip you" or a mom with a botox needle stuck out of her head and an exploding breast implant lying on her therapists' couch with a caption bubble that reads "real housewives of OC". Or a picture of a 10 year old with like 6 different sports items like a hockey stick, a baseball, a basketball, skates, soccer, a money sign and then a picture of the institution that his parents put him in because he is so overloaded with stuff that there is not time to actually be a kid. Now those I would like to see on the back of a car. Or as a friend of mine suggested, how about a picture of a woman, a big dog and then a gun. That would be the truth! They can be called truth stickers. Or how about a picture of a dad, his new young wife and his new kids and then a picture of his old, fat wife and his old kids next? And another thing, I don't like these stickers because I am already trying to drive, text, talk on my cell phone, eat and drink while driving, I cannot add reading to the mix as well, way too dangerous!

WHY I HATE FACEBOOK

I hate Facebook. There, I said it. I hate Facebook. And here’s why: One day a friend of mine emailed me to say “You have to get on Facebook, everyone is on it because there is a 20 year high school reunion group and you have to be on it.” She then extolled the virtues of this great meeting/reuniting website and how “it is so fun to catch up with people.” And it was fun…for the first month. It was great catching up with her. We even got together for a drink and brought our old yearbooks and wondered about everyone and what they were up too. Then I found myself adding friends to my list of friends and then spending time looking over their profiles and pictures and checking out their friends and their friends’ friends and then trying to see if anyone knows anyone famous. After my kids begged me for a while to make them lunch, I decided after hours and hours on facebook, time to log off, reluctantly. The next day I checked my email and I had felt like I had been invited to a great high school party with the cool kids. I thought wow, this is pretty neat having all these friends, some of them I really don’t even know but what the heck.

Then one day my BFF, Hailey, who is also on Facebook, mentioned to me that Sherry Klein was on Facebook. (IMAGINE BIG THUD SOUND RIGHT HERE!) “Remember her?” she asked. “REMEMBER HER? REMEMBER HER?” How could I ever forget her but all I could mutter was a measly ‘oh yeah, I remember her’ as if she was some vacant memory in my brain that I had not accessed in a while, which I hadn’t, till I heard her name again. Sherry Klein, with her 5000 friends, is why I hate Facebook.

Now you need a little backstory. Sherry Klein was the girl that seemed to have everything in grade school and I was insanely jealous of her. She was blonde, beautiful, funny, rich and of course skinny and I was dirty blonde, pimple faced, fat and lower income. Basically she looked like a Barbie and I looked like a boy. Really, a few weeks ago my kids saw a 5th grade softball picture of me and they asked if it was a picture of my brother. I don’t even have a brother. Sherry had beautiful long blonde hair and I had a short “convenient for my mom” feathery bowl cut thing, I truly don’t know how to describe it. But I longed for long hair. I wanted to put my hair in pony tails and braids so bad and I never could. Sherry’s whole family was great looking, her mom and dad were just the picture of health and beauty. And they were married. My parents were divorced. She had a swimming pool. I had sprinklers. She had great clothes and while I did not have to wear Goodwill clothes, they were not as cute or as expensive as hers. Let’s see, what else, oh yeah, she got to kiss Tom Speel. I didn’t. Tom Speel was THE babe of our school, everyone wanted to “go out” with him. I don’t even know what that means at 12 but Lord knows I was not going out with him. But I loved him so much (as much as a 12 year old can love another 12 year old). I would daydream about having my first kiss with him but no, that’s another thing that Sherry got. And right in front of me too. Did she not notice my jealousy? How could she be blessed and have everything and me be such a loser? Did I mention that she then went on to become extremely popular in junior high and high school and win all sorts of excellence awards for school, blah, blah, blah. Anyway, back to my story. So hearing the name Sherry Klein just brought back all the insecurities and negative feelings of my youth flooding back into my brain. I thought when high school was over that I would never feel this way again. I would never worry about being one of the popular people, one of the pretty girls, about being invited to the best parties and hanging out with the cool kids and knowing the cool kids.

So I thought the only rational thing to do is to add her as a friend and be the adult in the situation. I mean, I know that she is getting the pop ups on the right side that say my name just as I was getting the pop ups that say her name so I thought I would show her I was not jealous of her by adding her as my friend first. And I did with a little note asking how she has been since it had been so long since I talked to her and hoping all is going great with her. And then I waited. And then I opened my email and I got excited for a minute because she added me as a friend so I felt validated and cool but then wait, where was her reply to my questions???? She obviously got them. So what the heck does that mean?? A pity add. She added me to her list of friends out of pity. That’s worse than ignoring my friend request. So there I am feeling like a loser and realizing that she pity added me to her list of friends. She obviously didn’t want to add me but I think it was easier to add me and ignore me than to not add me at all. So now I am left a little lower than where I started, kind of like grade school. And that, my friends, is why I hate facebook. But if you want to add me as your friend, my online ID is blahblahblah..

P.S. Names have been changed to protect the author from utter and total humiliation!

Hello fellow readers,

This is my first blog. I write about what is currently bugging and annoying me or making me happy. Note to any web psychologists out there who might read my posts: most of my postings are satirical. They are meant to make you crack a smile and maybe even laugh out loud.