remember that time you insulted me in 1994? I do, you fucking dick.

My last blog was written during an Ambien blackout. Am I sorry? No. Am I still pissed about the actor not wanting to get me pregnant and then pay for the abortion? No. Because I studied his picture last night after a bottle of sangria and decided that he has a weird eye. Like his eye gets a little wonky. I can't deal with that. If your eye gets a little wonky just from a normal day of living your life, I can only imagine what the fuck happens when you're blacked out. I just really can't be bothered with that kind of stress in my life.

But it did get me thinking about how I wasted an Ambien blackout on being pissed about him. And probably wasted a lot of hours being irritated that he phantomed on me without even letting me ruin his life a little bit. And then this took me on a dark path thinking about all the other stupid shit I've wasted my life on.

One of my exes is a huge asshole. Like, for real. He says the wrong thing pretty much all the time. He's the guy that if you're crying and having the worst day ever, he'll let you know that your mascara is running and remind you that no one loves you. And it just makes you feel even worse having someone who's so...nothing...saying words that make you die a little inside. One time I was arguing with this dickhead at a bar who was being super misogynistic and belittling me. Instead of defending me, Asperger's (this is the nickname he's earned with my friends and I won't apologize if you're offended) ended up defending the douchebag and basically telling me I was a fucking idiot. Great guy. Seriously. But the absolute worst thing he ever said, that to this day has fucked up my psyche, was the first time he saw me without make up fresh out of the shower he looked right at me with disgust and said, "You look weird." Now, even though I felt like he'd kicked me in the face and wanted to crawl into a hole and die, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt because, I mean,  Asperger's. But no. When I saw him a little later, when I was wearing make up and my hair was on par, he said, "Ok good, that's better." WHAT IN THE FUCK MAN. Why does a dude feel like he can say that to his girlfriend? He probably never gave it a second thought but that moment still haunts me. I was super paranoid about a dude seeing me without make up on forever after that. It still gives me some anxiety but I refuse to get more wrinkles from sleeping with my make up on for some lame ass dude that won't be around in 3 days. Bye girl. This guy also told me I wasn't very smart on many occasions. This coming from someone who never went to college and was unemployed 80% of the time I knew him. Maybe I was stupid though. Stupid for listening to his bitch ass. Again, bye girl.

When I was boning down with the 21 year old former/current heroin addict he made an offhand comment once that when he was my age (at the time I was 25) he was going to have a super rad apartment and be making all the money. At the time I did have a super sweet apartment that I paid for all on my own and a pretty decent job making more money than most people my age. But all of a sudden my apartment looked like a fucking box in a Wal-Mart parking lot and my job might as well have been giving HJ's in my box in the parking lot. This bothered me a lot. I felt ashamed even though I'd worked really fucking hard to get where I was. The disgusting part is this was coming from a kid who lived at home with his mommy who paid for everything. He worked part-time as a bartender and didn't even have enough money to pay for his taxi rides home from my apartment. WHY!? Why would I let this kid make me feel like a loser? I still have moments when someone is coming over to my place where I try to overcompensate and buy more expensive vodka or vacuum 70 times. Then I remind myself that I have a bar cart and a wine fridge so as far as apartments go...mine is fucking NAILING IT.

Also the older man vegan that lived at home with his mom made some comments that really shit on my soul. Like the time he compared me to a Suicide Girl he was obsessed with but said I kinda looked like her but maybe an older version of her. She was older than me by at least 6 years. Awesome, thanks. Love hearing that I'm a broke down Suicide Girl lookalike. Or when he told me that he put his dick in lots of places but I shouldn't care because he sort of almost loved me so I was the most important hole of this penis to hang out in. Luckiest girl alive!!!

No wonder I'm such a fucking mess.

I wonder if any of them ever suddenly feel a wave of insecurity from something a lady said to them that was pretty fucked up. Maybe someone told them they had a weird ballsack so getting a BJ makes them nervous. Or someone told them they weren't very smart so they google everything to prevent sounding unintelligent. Honestly though, I know that's not true. Because their mothers told them they were 10's when they're 4's at best. Except for the heroin addict. He's a 12. Maybe even a 13 when he doesn't talk. But still...I know he doesn't have a cool apartment and a bar cart and a wine fridge because I saw him sitting outside his parent's house smoking a cigarette the other day. Nailing it bro...totally.

Also, I just bought a sling, like for a baby, so I can carry my 20 year old dog around when he gets tired of walking and we have to run from the crackheads fighting over cans in the alley. Does that sound like a stupid, broke down Suicide Girl, with a shitty apartment? NOPE. SUCK IT BITCHES.

I'm done listening to douchebags and mommy's boys and the unemployed and the small penised. I may not be living the dream, but I'm pretty positive I'm living the dream of a Puerto Rican prostitute. WINNING.

today I'm Marnie...the self-absorbed, overly dramatic, petty one...deal with it.

This entry will not make the world a better place. It will not inspire change in the world, advance feminism, or save an orphan. I am going to bitch about something stupid and meaningless and you know what, I'M NOT FUCKING SORRY ABOUT IT. Maybe it'll take your mind off your own shit for a few minutes. Or maybe you can mock my petty problems. Either way, read it and love it, or hate it and suck it.

I've learned recently that I have to be a little more subtle with my code names for people when I write about them. Because it turns out that every dude I have ever had a conversation with and definitely every dude that would be on my call list if I found out I had herpes, reads this god damn blog. It's my own fault. I did put it up on my dating profile and shit got pretty crazy after that. Like the dudes who only wanted to meet up so I would write about them. Eat a dick. You're not interesting enough to write about. Also I don't need you throwing a drink at me or pulling out your dick at a bar to make a good story. I have enough problems in my life without drinks and dicks flopping around in my face. You know what, fuck it. I've had too much booze and I just took an Ambien and a muscle relaxer so there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to think up new nicknames for people and keep them straight. If I wake up to angry texts tomorrow, so be it. But don't send them too early you fuckers, I got a wedding to get blacked out at tomorrow. I need my rest.

Previously I mentioned a dude we call "The Actor", who I met on the internet. After weeks of flirt texting and blackout texting and lots of eggplant emojis being sent back and forth, we went on a date. I thought as far as first dates go, it was pretty fucking decent. We both knocked over drinks at the first bar. Super classy. Had a brief make out session in a parking structure. Even got a phone call from the dude making sure my slightly drunk ass got home safely. Then the son of a bitch phantomed. I was pretty pissed but decided that he was probably a baby rapist and I had dodged a bullet of being known as the girl with the boyfriend who was a baby rapist. I mean, that's something you don't come back from.

After I posted that blog, I got a random text from him thanking me for the shoutout. I was on my way to be penetrated by a beard so I was only irritated by his sudden appearance. But whatever, I said something noncommittal and that was the end of that.

Despite being super annoyed by his little bitchness, I guess in the back of my mind it's bothered me why he disappeared, reappeared, then disappeared again. Like, what the fuck? I'm pretty sure dudes can see by the resting bitch face I have when I'm on a date if I'm not into it. Also, I'll send a text saying "I'm not into it." But I definitely don't make out with a dude, check on his safety post-date and then disappear. I can be a fucking asshole, but that's on a whole new level man.

So even though in my real life I didn't give a fuck about this dude, in my drunk life I still had rage blackouts about it. After shit with the beard went sideways I'll admit it, but I'm blaming my uterus, I looked up The Actor on OkCupid to see if he still had an account. I couldn't find him, so I came to terms that he must've met someone. I wished him the best. And by the best, I mean I hoped she would cheat on him with all 6 of his roommates and steal his flatscreen television and leave him with period stained underwear and at least 76 STD's. I'm totally a good person. I truly put him out of my mind completely.

But because my life is fucking stupid, his face popped up on my potential matches page the other day. Sidenote: allegedly we're a 92% match. Yeah, I know. This is the shit that the internet tells us and therefore FUCKING RUINS OUR SOULS. I literally felt sick to my stomach. No longer can I pretend he's recovering somewhere in an adult diaper while the sores on his penis ooze. If anything he probably got into an accident that made his dick bigger. FUUUUUUUUUUUCK. The worst part is that he's kinda the cutest. Ugh. I hate him. I hate men. I hate my pets right now because they are simultaneously licking their penises. I just feel so attacked right now in my own home.

It's dumb that this bothers me. It's dumb that it's plagued me all day. It's pathetic that every time I get a notification I want it to be from him. The rational part of my brain accepts that I'm not his jam. But the irrational part of my brain thinks I could ply him over here with booze and boobs and I could lock this shit down. But to get phantomed on twice? I don't think I have the emotional strength to survive that. I'm already on rocky ground these days. Every time I see a puppy meme I lose my fucking shit and sob until I need an ambulance.

I know what I have to do. I have to drink one more glass of wine. And then I have to message him. Something casual, no big deal. Something like: "WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME YOU FUCKING FUCKING BASTARD.?? I'M A GOOD COOK. I'M DOWN FOR THE SEXY TIMES ALL DAY EVERYDAY. I WILL SKIP MEALS FOR SEX. THAT IS A TRUTH. ALSO I HAVE AWESOME TATOOS THAT GIVE YOU FUN THINGS TO LOOK AT DURING NAKED TIMES AND MY DOWNSTAIRS IS LIKE ABABY'S VAGINA. AND ASSHOLE! Please love me.

That message seems like a winner right? Like we'll be planning our wedding next year. Popping out so many french bulldog baby puppies.

These meds are kicking in and I feel ready to make some bad choices. I'm gonna  message him. I'm gonna play it cool. I'm gonna take a lot of the stuff out of the first message out. But I'm definitely leaving in the stuff about my hairless kitty and asshole. Wish me luck guys.

Mama's gonna go get herself a hot date! I'll probably bring diapers just in case.

Cheers!! I'm so fucked up right now. I love you all. And FYI blogging naked is EVERYTHING .

if you're normal and you know it fill your hands with shit and clap.

Guys, I was stood up. And I’m not happy about it.

You all know I went on a date with a psychopath last week. I have some big news to reveal… I’m not pregnant and if I was he would definitely NOT be the father. Don’t even look at the eyebrows. Psychopath and I were not a love match and I’ve walked on the other side of the street to avoid running into him and falling onto his penis since our date from hell. I’m trying to make 2016 my year of better decisions. So far, it’s not really going that well. But I’m not giving up hope yet. I’ll know by August how much more emotionally damaged I’ve become.

In the midst of my short lived text love affair with the psychopath I was also somewhat texting with a normal dude. Like, painfully normal. He doesn’t really drink during the week. He’s never had a restraining order filed against him. I think he even hangs out with his family and stuff. What a fucking weirdo. He asked me to hang out like 45 times and I shrugged my shoulders, which he couldn’t see obviously, and then changed the subject. I already struggle to pay attention to people when they’re talking. If you’re saying a lot of words that don’t involve “booze”, “baby goats”, “booze”,  or “cats in boxes”, I just really can’t with you.

Anyway, after the psychopath I decided that I might have met my batshit crazy quota for the month and maybe I should give normal dude a shot. So after his 56th text asking to meet up for a drink, I still shrugged my shoulders, but I said I was down. Monday was the designated awkward first date night. I figured we’d meet somewhere downtown, where worst case scenario I could drown him out by watching the homeless harass pedestrians. I decided 7:00 was a good start time so I could drink a bottle of wine and be kind of sleepy and thus less intense. You can’t be intense with normal dudes. I think they’re allergic to it.

I had my whole plan figured out, but around 12:00 on Monday I realized I hadn’t actually shared my plan so I texted normal dude.  Generally I received a reply within 16 seconds. This time, nothing. I figured he was probably busy at work and I’d hear from him closer to 5:00. At 5:01, nothing. Now I’m fucking PISSED. I don’t even care about you. I shrugged my god damn mother fucking shoulders. But not responding to me is giving me a rage blackout. You’re shrugging your shoulders with your silence. That’s my thing you son of a bitch.

What in the hell? I don’t get it. Why would you try so hard for months to hang out, and then when I’m finally about it, you phantom. It’s such a lady thing to do. Crazy bitches put time and effort into fucking dudes over. Was I being catfished by a lady? I’ve always wanted to be catfished. But I wanted it to go all the way. Like my dream is to show up at a bar and have a scary looking woman waiting for me and then I would start screaming and crying and throwing chairs and flipping tables. It would be a masterpiece on YouTube. I’d probably get like 56 views.

I’ve accepted that I had some bad dating karma coming my way. I’ve never actually stood anyone up. If I say I’m coming, I’ll be there two drinks in when you arrive. But I’ve pulled some dick moves. Like the awkward skinny guy that thought he was going to lose his virginity to me, but instead I stopped returning his texts even when he waited at a brewery for me hoping I’d show up and then bought us Rihanna tickets because I drunkenly told him I was obsessed with her. That was all him though. I told him how I felt about virgins. Or the older dude that seemed like a silver fox until he took off his hat and had the largest head I’d ever seen in real life. So I texted my friend to fake emergency call me (seriously Oscar worthy performance to Eric who screamed like a child having a tantrum and ruined everyone’s life at the bar) and then bailed because I just couldn’t look at that giant head anymore. Or the barely not a teenager who wanted me to relive my youth and hang out in his backyard and skateboard and drink Natural Ice with him and his friends who I harshly ditched via text. But seriously, at this point, haven’t I been punished enough? I’ve been through the fucking wringer. Girl down. SOS. Call Oprah.

So anyway, I raged all night over that mother fucker ditching out on me. I SHAVED MY FUCKING LEGS FOR THIS SHIT!? I had to drink 2 bottles of wine and eat 2 muscle relaxers to put myself into a coma so I wouldn’t go searching for the psychopath to anger bang. Tuesday was rough guys. So rough.

But I decided to pull myself together Tuesday morning and be an adult. By noon, when my hangover was at its peak and I thought I was going to barf all over my keyboard and my head would subsequently explode, I decided fuck that shit and texted that douche, “I’M BUSY you stupid DICK.” Pretty sure I nailed it guys. Being mature and stuff.

The moral of this story is you get fucked over by the psychopaths and the normal dudes. It’s a no win situation. If I’m gonna get fucked over anyway, bring on the psychopaths. They’re usually into some weird shit and I’m in my prime. All you normal dudes, I’M FUCKING BUSY. Bye.