You can read the beginning of the saga here.

So ExGreek became incessantly annoying with his quest for a penis pump and/or cream due to his accused shortcomings. 

I had to tell him the truth.

Me:  I wanted you to know that you really dont have a small penis.  I was just joking around. 

Him:  Thanks a lot.  GF was trying to give me head the other day and I couldn’t get hard because I kept thinking of what you said.

Me:  Sorry to hear that.  Well, you don’t. 

Him:  Want to do dinner and a movie sometime next week?  Also, I still really want the pump.  Not much the cream but the pump definitely.

Oops!

things are heavy around here.  can you tell?  That’s a rhetorical question.

Lucky for me and you, I stumbled upon some foolish blog fodder last night.

I have a sick, twisted, confusing relationship with an ex who for anonymity’s sake we call ExGreek.

My intuition and experience tell me ExGreek is just fucked in the brain.

Anywho, ExGreek texted me out of the blue a few weeks back to tell me he had joined E Harmony.  I laughed hard.  ExGreek is the most commitment phobic confused male I have ever met and from my understanding people who joined E Harmony were looking to commit.  I wished him good luck on his future endeavors and warned him that E Harmony was made for those who wanted a serious relationship.  He told me that was what he wanted.  I laughed again in text, “Ha Ha Ha… sure”.

Over the past few weeks we have exchanged text messages.  To be honest I was intrigued by his experiences with E Harmony and wondered what type of epiphany he had in regards to suddenly wanting marriage in the very near future.

I hadn’t heard from him for a week and figured I would throw a text at him asking how finding his future wife on E Harmony was going.

I will let our textversation explain the rest.

Me:  Hey. How is the search for your future wife going?

Him:  My search is over.

Me:  Oh, it didn’t work out huh?  I am sorry to hear that.

Him:  I think I found her.  The search is over.  She met my Mom last night.  I am going to propose.

Me:  Oh really…  How are you going to propose?

Him:  Not like you people do in the states.  I will explain to you some other time.  Is there anything I could have done differently when we had sex to make it better?

Me:  Uh…  Well, I never wanted to tell you this but now that I have seen more “members” yours is a little small.  I saw an advertisement for some cream out there that enlarges it.

Him:  Really?  There is a pump too.  You can buy it at Lovers Lane.  Will you buy it for me.  I will give you the money.

Me:  I don’t know if I would feel comfortable going and buy a penis enlarging cream and pump.

Him:  How do you think it would look if I went?  Please. 

Me:  I will think about it but I am not making any promises.

He has text messaged me twice this morning asking if I am able to go to the store for his penis enlargement items.  Gah!

Am I evil?  He deserves it.  Remember the provocative pic fiasco? 

Lets get one thing out of the way.  I am the girl that buys all of the pink glossy covered books at Borders.  I don’t just “peruse” them for a few moments of hillarity and not purchase them.  I buy them immediately.

I will also say I had no problem being “that girl” last Saturday night.

According to Travis Stock MD, “that girl” is not the girl to be.  I need to reread the book.  I fail.

J and I decided we needed to get out of the house last Saturday night even if it meant staying local. The weekend before was the weekend the Chicago snow wouldn’t stop and we wound up exchanging 23423 text messages “pretending” we were talking at a bar.  It was our mock trial of debauchery.

We needed the real thing.  I, per the usual, took it to the extreme and J is right there up with me on the extremist level.

We began the night with a quiet drink at the local wine bar to see where the rest of the night would lead us.  This was my 1st drink of the night and only drink of the night that I paid for and clearly remember consuming.

After a few telephone calls, we decided to venture to Ontourage because NOTHING else was going on. It wasn’t exactly 65 degrees and sunny in Chicago.

We stopped and grabbed a few gas station energy pills and chased them with a couple of Red Bulls.  We set sail for La Salle and Ontario.

The moment we walked into Ontourage we noticed that J’s best guy friend had a table complete with 2 bottles of Goose.

Score.

He saw us coming and ordered yet another bottle.

I got sloppy.  REAL sloppy.

Of course we werent done yet because it was only 1:30 am.

We wound up going to 2 local afterhour bars. 

I got sloppier.

All withhin an hour I became the beligerent drunk by calling a Greek friend of J’s a malaka after being introduced, the emotional drunk by crying hysterically because of the L situation; which as of Friday has been resolved, and the sloppy floozy drunk trying to catch a veneral disease by throwing my tongue down some random guys throat for an hour or so.

Today marks a week of my detoxification.  After the above and the fact that I had all signs of alcohol poisoning on Sunday, I decided to stop drinking for a month.  It has been a week and I have decided that a month is unfathomable. 

When can I be the responsible drunk?

P.S. I didnt post this post any sooner because I am a walking contradiction.  If I would have wrote it the Monday following my night of debauchery it would have been all lies about how I was giving up the booze for life and joining the nunnery.  LIES!

P.P.S  My sudden need to giggle like a 19 year old on the telephone for HOURS with boy has also affected my blogging.  So shoot me because I sicken myself over it.  Trust me.

After consuming 343 ounces of water, spending $60 on an updo complete with poof and ringlets, acrylic nails painted in “Eifel for this Color”, buying a new pair of patent pointy toe heels and clutch, and a burn thanks to my need to go tanning twice in one day

The night began early with L, Jax, and I meeting at my house to leave for the Sheraton who would be blessed with our occupancy for the night. My brother had to work late and took a cab to meet us there later in the evening.

We enjoyed our girl time in the car by sucking on caffeinated lollypops, downing sugar free Red Bulls, and popping Ice Breaker energy mints. Can you tell we have a bit of an addiction to all things caffeinated?

We went for a quick bite to eat at Houlihans. I have a tendency to forget to eat before a night of binge drinking which leads to me getting drunk off my ass even quicker, its possible. It’s a good thing I have L who refuses to let me not eat before drinking because she is the person blessed to deal with the drunken K. The first toast of the evening was at dinner. We clinked water glasses to our friendship.

Did I mention Chicago was effing cold on New Years Eve? FRIGID.

Us girls retreated back to the hotel to primp and meet my brother who had already had two Heinekens at the hotel lounge. Go figure!

Getting ready went much smoother than I imagined considering we were working with the vanity in the bathroom and the desk which sat before a mirror. We are proof that 3 girls can get ready in a small hotel room.

We looked fucking hot.  My New Years Eve attire was the suit.

The event was held at Navy Pier and I must say that was my only complaint. The location was less than convenient. It was held in the Grand Ballroom which is only accessible if you park in the parking garage otherwise you have to walk, half naked from the entrance of Navy Pier to the complete end of the pier.

Yes. Imagine it. Three girls walking in stilettos half naked through groups of tourists. One person actually exclaimed loudly after passing L “Holy shit that girl aint got no bra on.” L was wearing a suit similar to mine without a bra or cami, so sexy. I might as well have not even worn the cami because it looked like I was going braless and camiless throughout the night because the cami was that low cut.

After our 15 min walk through crowds of tourists holding hands and walking slowly through the pier, we made it to the Grand Ballroom and more importantly we made it to one of the many bars!

 We were by far one of the best dressed groups there. It seemed that Carson Pierie Scott’s homecoming dress department vomited all over the Grand Ballroom.

I would also like to note it is not okay to wear a bridesmaid dress on New Years Eve.

Getting drunk was easy, as getting a drink was far from difficult with all of the bars they had setup.

I was cursing Bacci throughout the night because my feet were killing from my new shoes.

I decided to throw a tantrum and retreat to a table to sit by myself. I was approached by 3 different guys trying to claim me as their own. Its amazing how many men will approach you when you are by yourself and look like a damsel in distress. I brushed them off and retreated back to my friends.

We became friends with a bartender which was convenient. She made sure we had champagne flutes full of champagne for midnight and matched us shot for shot. I’m really hoping “Rita” wasn’t driving her ass home that evening.

We danced and drank our pretty faces into 2009 with the Black Tie Affair performing and fireworks in the background.

L mistakenly kissed my baby brother on the “practice” countdown and was confused when the real countdown took place. She caught on.

My first kiss, my bestest Jax.

I was grateful to welcome 2009 confetti down my cleavage and all.

We retreated back to “our” bar and continued taking shots.

Things get blurry for a bit, bear with me.

I puke. It had to have been the cookie Jax romantically fed me earlier in the night. From what I hear… I puked behind the bar and then ordered another drink. I’m classy like that.

In between all of this, Jax decided she was going to go home with one of her friends that was supposedly there. We obliged. Well, I didn’t oblige because I was in a state of comatose but L and my brother did.

After puking the cookie I divulged earlier that evening, I was ready for more but the time was quickly approaching 2 am and L and my brother felt it was time for the evening to end.

The walk back to the entrance was foggy. I decided I would rather go shoeless and attempted to ditch my shoes somewhere in the stained glass museum.

We approach the entrance of Navy Pier and I spot Jax in the corner of my eye. She is crying and huddled up with a girl who I didn’t recognize. She is obviously drunk. I know drunk Jax. The girl holding her up was a stranger who was very willing to hand her drunk ass off to us.

Things begin to get foggy. I remember trying my damnest to quiet a belligerent Jax down hoping that the CPD did not arrest her and/or I because of the state we were in.

I really thought it was our day to get arrested.

The line to catch a cab was ridiculous. My brother eventually paid off a taxi driver $40 to drive us 3 blocks back to the Sheraton. Thank goodness for this rash decision because I am pretty sure Jax would have either passed out in the middle of the vestibule or even worse gotten arrested for telling everyone that approached her to fuck off including the men in blue.

By the time we get back to the room, I am ready to go for more or so I thought. I believe it took one shot of vodka and an order of uneaten $25 quesadillas before I passed out.

We all woke up pretty early the next morning and took inventory of what we may have lost. Jax wound up losing her MAC lip gloss and I lost my new clutch which contained a pill container full of Ativan, MAC lip gloss, and MAC lipstick. I am quite impressed with myself because earlier in the night I gave Jax my debit card and license for safekeeping. Yes, Jax did not lose her clutch even in the very poor condition she was in. I am thinking that I just no longer wanted to hold my clutch anymore and figured the best thing to do was to ditch it. I am smart like that. I had just bought the clutch and have yet to develop a bond.

Brunch was had by everyone but me as I cannot stomach food when hungover. We were back in the car headed home by noon.

New Years 2008 has come and gone. Where will I be New Years 2009? I think I am definitely going to try to make going out and painting the town red on NYE a tradition. I was a little hesitant about partying it up on NYE but really enjoyed it and am down for doing it again next year as long as driving is not in the equation.

If this is true, then way to go Lindsay.  I wish I had your kick ass tolerance and dwindling BMI.  Perhaps, I should try kissing girls because my typical female/male dating past has sucked ass as big as Kim Kardashians.

It also seems we have very similar pictures of ourselves.  High Five!

Lets get blitzed out of our mother fuckin’ minds and play with kitchen utensils.

I, the booze drinking table dancing girl, have never went out on Black Wednesday.  I have been frequenting clubs and bars since the ripe age of 19 and have never even thought about going out on Black Wednesday.

Black Wednesday is a night of drunken debauchery which I am all about but included in this drunken debauchery is crowds of ignorant people which equals elbows to the head and spilled drinks on expensive clothes.

I dont do crowds of ignorant people.  I rarely do crowds of people. 

Dont get me wrong, I go out a lot and deal with crowds of people but never wait in line to get into a club, never wait in line to get a drink at a club, and never go to a club where I will be pushed and shoved by jackasses.

I don’t do that scene.

There is no club like the above available on Black Wednesday because every club in the city of Chicago is full of drunken assholes and any “hookup” you may have becomes obsolete.

L asked me to go out on Black Tuesday because originally our other bestest was working Thanksgiving and wouldnt be able to go out.

She knows that I despise Black Tuesday. I (gulp) agreed.

We had the conversation about 3 weeks ago and I have slowly tried to prepare myself.  I visted Walmart, frequented these stores with food called grocery stores, and all of my visits to the unemployment office have definitely covered the “ignorance” I would face.

When we discussed the whole Black Tuesday ordeal I also decided to agree on going out on NYE this year.  Crazy?  Yup… thats me.  I usually have a shindig at my house on NYE because again its one of those days that anxiety stricken K cannot handle. 

During our agreement, we both agreed we would go to a place near home which I hate on a regular basis let alone on a busy as day where I would wind up running into every single person I went to high school with and I went to 3 high schools, possibly ex boyfriends, and definitely ex friends.  We both thought it was the best idea because it was close and we would just cab home.  115 Bourbon Street here we come!  I say this with all sarcasm that I can produce.

We found out a week ago that Jax our other bestest would be off on Thanksgiving and would be painting the town red with us.

I then come home from a trip to the grocery store today.  Yes… I survived a grocery store 2 days before Thanksgiving without the assistance of a benzo or a fifth of vodka.  L and my brother are looking at Manor’s website which is downtown.

What??!? I did not agree to all that and hate to be blindsided.  I like to be prepared.  There is definitely a different dress code for me if I was to go to good ol’ 115 and if I was to go to a club downtown.  I am not tan.  My toes need painting.

This puts me in a rage and I get very snotty with L telling her I am not going out if thats where they decide to go.

She pretty much shrugs me off and continues to say she is going to call her brother and see what he wants to do.

Are you serious?  I am going out because everyone I thought wanted me to and now it has turned into a situation where my opinion doesnt even count?  Our other bestest Jax is now off Thanksgiving and would be joining us but that does not mean that my opinion means shit.

Jax calls me complaining that she doesnt want to do anything tomorrow let alone go downtown which baffles me because the idea seemed to come from her.  What?

In conclusion, I have no idea if tomorrow will be my 1st Black Friday out.

I would be quite happy sitting at home with a couple of bottles of Pinot Grigio and my bestest then possibly slashing the cheating bastard DILF’s tires.

Oh ya… did I forget to mention the DILF had a girlfriend when he decided to bang me in the back seat of his mercedes?  She contacted me through MySpace but that is a whole nother blog for a whole nother day.

Off to attend to more important things like my Arbor Mist that is chilling in my freezer.  I am hoping it doesnt look like this

An end to a hiatus?

I definitely hope so.  The only internet communication I have been indulging in over the last two weeks has been twitter.

If you havent begun living in twitterverse, I caution you thats its the worst internet addiction I have ever posessed.

What’s new?

A whole damn lot.  I am unsure where to start or even to bother recapping.  Perhaps, I should just retitle my blog to “Single Unemployed Vodka Drinking Cat Woman To Be”

It’s catchy.  No?

In any event.  I am unemployed.  I got the ol’ heave hoe at the corporate 9-5′er that paid for my over indulgence in shoes and all things alcohol related.

They offered me a box for my belonging but I stuffed all things worth saving into my big ol’ Coach purse and said adieu with my eyes swollen with tears.

Thats all for now.  I am not jumping back into this whole bloggy blog world guns blazing.  I would rather have a few rounds of shooting practice beforehand.

I leave you with an idea of the shape I have been in the past couple of weeks. I figure you will feel some sort of pain for me and if not you will definitely feel sorry for me.

or clubs, lounges, parties, or any other function involving the consumption of alcohol.
 
My ability to make an ass out of myself is very high.  Throw me in a cell with a fifth of Grey Goose and I will put on a show.  I will be as entertaining as the monkey house at Brookfield. 
 
I stopped up at the local tavern for a drink or 2 or 3.  It was a friend’s birthday, not really a friend perhaps an acquaintance because honestly my friends do no celebrate their birthday’s at dive bars.  I kept that to myself, smiled, and wished a happy birthday.
 
I was in “rare form” as my bestest described but in reality I was bored and amusing myself.
 
The highlight of the night was acting like the biggest ass on the Southside and then Jax telling me the guy she was with works at my 1st job which I worked at from age 15 to 23 and has already heard a lot about me.  Well now he gets to go to work and air some more of my shenanigans to my old coworkers, bosses, and friends.
 
Yup… let them know I am still as obnoxious as ever.
 
My Friday plans were supposed to involve getting FroYo with the DILF but things didn’t pan out that way.  I cancelled the plans via text message and he seemed fine with it. 
 
I ended the night early and retired in bed textversating with mister.  Thank goodness I was coherent to an extent and didn’t say anything too ridiculous.
 
Although, I did tell him I don’t like connecting to guys on an emotional level.  What the fuck?
 
I woke up early Saturday morning for my run which was fabulous.  I wasn’t hungover, just feeling tired and it was great to get out and run in such nice weather.  After greasing up my hair with sweat I headed over to get my hair “did”.
 
It looks fabulous and I have found a new stylist close to home.  SCORE!
 
I spent the remainder of Saturday napping and resting up my feet for a night of dancing in celebration of L’s brother’s 21st.
 
Thank goodness I had 2 Red Bull and Vodkas before I left the house because L decided to slam my pinkie and forefinger in the car door as we were parking.  She had to reopen the door to release them.
 
The pain was unbearable but you know what fixed it?  4 free drinks at Sound Bar did the trick
 
I was in a very aggravated mood with my cousin’s boyfriend who is lamer than lame and she is obnoxious as I.  Therefore, I couldn’t stand him and I don’t think he had a good night therefore I doubt he will be going out with us again!
 
I drink quicker when aggravated.
 
This is where things get blurry.
 
I remember getting into a cab to go to Republic,  I remember dancing a lot at Republic, I remember drinking a lot at Republic.
 
I do not remember starting a tab therefore I am ID and credit card less for the 3rd time this year from opening up a tab and never closing out.  It’s my MO.  The girl who has IDs floating all over the Chicago club scene.  I wonder how many underage girls are using my ID.
 
I do not remember being lost for 30 minutes and L finding me outside by the smokers trying to make friends with a couple of people who didn’t speak English.  L was not pleased.
 
I do not remember harassing a taxi driver.
 
I do not remember opening up the car door as L drove down Lake Shore Drive asking her if we could stop at the beach.
 
I do not remember taking numerous cam pics of myself and sending them to mister.
 
I do not remember sending my grandmother cam pics of my cousin and I clinking glasses with our tits falling out of shirts.
 
Sunday was not spent relaxing but rather in a comatose state from the large consumption of alcohol I consumed in 48 hours.  I caught up on Californication and cuddled with Bacci who gave me the evil “Mom… you’re such a drunk asshole” look.
 
Here I am at work Monday.  I woke up late.  I have no cash for lunch nor a debit card.  My hair is in kinks. 
 
I look like hell because I of my enjoyable drunken weekend.

I wake up to “Why does L have a landing strip on her vajayjay?” says my little sister.
 
“WHAT are you talking about?” I say in a groggy still drunk tone looking down to see that I in fact do not have any pants on and no I will not describe the fashion my vajayjay is kept.
 
Whowouldathunkit??  I wasn’t wearing any pants.  It’s a shame this did not shock my sister.
 
It just so happens my BFF L, who I remind you is also my brother’s GF of 9 years sauntered into my house sans pants at 5 am Sunday into my front room where my sister was having a sleepover with two of her BFFs.
 
Boy… These little girls learned all about the upkeep of the Pikachu.
 
After I was shoveled into bed on Saturday night, L and J (brother) decided they needed some more and went to the local late night watering hole for more fun and games.
 
L’s drunken self decided it would be a good idea to take off her shorts and saunter like a model on a runway all the way back to my house which is approximately 3 blocks.
 
She was wearing white shorts sans a thong.
 
Sassy!  To be honest I couldn’t be more proud of her drunken high jinks.  I blush with pride.
 
All of my friends like to get drunk and naked, I consider myself a lucky gal.
 
In any event, she was not very proud when notified of the debauchery she caused with proof on my brother’s cell phone.   My brother attempted to tackle her and begged her to put her pants back on.  She wasn’t having it.
 
She hid her face in shame exclaiming “This is something you would do…not me!!”  She then let me in on the fact that I did not want to keep my pants on earlier that night while walking with them around my ankles in the attendant supervised parking lot.
 
After L and I sobered up from the nights shenanigans we threw on some huge ass tortoise sunglasses and set mission.
 
Pikachu bearer and I took my little sister as promised homecoming dress shopping at Oak Brook mall. 
 
Note:  Oak Brook mall is not the mall you should go to when hungover unless you wear your slippers and dark sunglasses.  There is too much walking and seeing its outdoor the sun shines down on you like the heat in hell causing a more intense nauseated dizzy feeling.
 
After going to BEBE, Lord & Taylor, Macy’s, White House Black Market, Cache, Neiman Marcus, and Macys we found her dress.  Where you ask?  EXPRESS!  Paired with a classy pair of suede peep toe pumps and you have perfection!
 
My sister is going to be the hottest most fashionable bitch at homecoming.  I’m really hoping she doesn’t ask my Mom to get her Pikachu waxed for the event, it was bad enough she brought home pink leopard thongs due to L and I ravaging Express’s panty sale.  Ironic after the nights occurrence huh?
 
Perhaps… We I can learn to wear them and we both can learn to keep them on in public.  That would be nice.