I Put on Makeup for This?

I messed up

2008-06-10T12:31:00.000-07:00

So last week, a bunch of girlfriends and I went to a shopping extravaganza and we got a fat goodie bag for actually coming. I have liked all the stuff in it thus far. However, I think I might have created a bit of a doozy for myself this morning.

I was out of hair products and, as usual, I was running late this morning. So, after to trying desperately to shaking the remaining bit of gel out of the bottle, I gave up and decided to open up one of those freebie hair packages they gave us last week. I chose a pomade that "will hold easily" and "creates a fresh style." Well...they weren't kidding.

I believe I put a bit too much on, but decided that it'll probably look better once it's dry. So, I went about my morning, getting dressed and eating some breakfast. Just as I was about to leave for work, I grabbed my hair dryer and got to it. However, as I was checking myself out in the mirror (what? like you don't do it?), I noticed that my hair wasn't drying. I touched it and all I felt was slime. In actuality, my hair was probably dry, but since the pomade was so caked on, it still looked the same as when it was wet. In essence, I look like this guy:

Except with greasy curls. Hot, huh?

So, now I'm sitting at my desk with my grease hair piled on top of my head and praying that no one comes looking for me today. I look like one of those sleazy club guys.

And the countdown to the shower continues....

One to mull over...

2008-05-20T09:43:00.000-07:00

I'm still recovering from my Sunday. I'm sunburnt, sore, and possibly still drunk, but man... it was fun. So while I try to piece together and recap my weekend for you, here's a quick question:

Who would you want to play you in the movie of your life?

I'm going to go with her:

Isn't Keri Russell pretty? She's quirky, funny, adorable, and she's got curly hair! Me in a nutshell. I've had a girl crush on her ever since Malibu Shores. I'm not quite sure how well she is at acting tipsy, but I'm willing to give her the chance to play me.

What about you guys?

...and that's 18 for you folks that are counting out there

2008-05-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

I mean, seriously?! Another one? Doesn't your "hot pocket" (via Chelsea Handler), deserve just a bit of rest? What's this next one going to be called? Jericho? Jemima? Jesus?

I have a pain down there just even thinking about it...

Typical

2008-05-08T12:42:00.000-07:00

My brother and the gf broke up (my early birthday wish came true!). However... he is now in cohorts with another lady. Seriously. The boy is always attached.

Maybe it's me? Is there something in my genes where I'm hopelessly single and my brother is constantly attached? Do you have friends out there that bounce from one relationship to the next? Am I the only one without dating prospect waiting in the wings? It just upsets me to think that some people can go from one love to the next and my love life resembles the Sahara desert. Ok, I'm whining. It's annoying. I hate being the "woe is me" girl.

I love being single. Honestly. I love my freedom. I guess I'm just envious of people having more "options" than me.

Whatever.

P.S.- I'm totally pms-ing. Does it show? :-)

A Story in Pictures

2008-05-06T10:05:00.000-07:00

Last week, I bought these:

Hot, huh?

Except, last night I ate this:

2 of them. Mmmmm... so bueno.

And now I feel like this in my brand new jeans:

Blah. Was it worth it? Of course. Who can resist Jack-in-the-Crack?

I'm so going to be running a million miles tonight...

You Shy-a Devil You

2008-05-02T08:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Shia,

If I ever see your parents, I'm totally going to give them a high-five. Well, I might slap them first for giving you a name that took me 2 months to finally be able to pronounce "right," but they definitely deserve a high five for the fine specimen you've become.

I mean, you went from this:

To this:

Meow.

What? Don't believe me that you've gone from a caterpillar to a butterfly? Here's another one:

Mama needs a cold shower.

Honestly Shia, you're looking really good. I never thought you would have grown out of that Even Stevens stage... like EVER. You proved me wrong. Well done.

You're like a "normal" celebrity. You aren't going in and out of rehab like Lindsay Lohan and you aren't humping everything that moves like Paris Hilton. No, you just do really weird "normal" stuff that any American does: you get arrested for trespassing in a Walgreens in Chicago while you were sober (allegedly). Even your screw ups are cute.

So Shia, I have a proposition for you. Leave the Hollywood life and come be my pool boy. You can tend to my (parent's) pool and I can watch you from the side, sipping a margarita, admiring the nice abs you acquired from working on the Indiana Jones movie. I might even let you have a sip of my drink, even though you're not 21 yet.

Oh crap.

I just looked on wikipedia... you're going to be 22 this year?!

Well, that ruins my pool boy fantasy.

Whatever... call me if you're ever in town.

Something is wrong here

2008-05-02T08:49:00.000-07:00

A Ph.D. student is entrusting me today to watch her newborn baby, while she goes to a baby shower. How I got singled out as someone who's "responsible" enough to babysit, I'll never know. She's a Ph.D. student...I thought she would be smart about this.

Wish me luck.

I hope I don't break it.

Thank you sir, may I have another?

2008-05-01T14:56:00.000-07:00

Ding Dong!

The witch is dead! Er...well gone, for now, at least.

The Baby Bro and the gf broke up. Hooray! However, the Baby Bro has decided to take it upon himself to "self medicate" and he drank himself into oblivion because he didn't want to think about all the heartache he's been going through. We (the parents and my brother) believe that he may have gotten alcohol poisoning 'cause he he was ill the past 4 days from it. What's that you say? Why yes! We are in fact a family of geniuses! Curly haired ones actually.

Thus, this brings me to the time where I, in fact, "may" (pretty freaking sure) have gotten alcohol poisoning myself. 'Twas the night I got dumped via text message (how very Sex and the City post-it note-esque). That jackass was so "modern" and "hip" with technology (more on him another time).

I looked at my phone, read the text, felt it give my ego a little pinch, and then proceeded to drink. A LOT. It's unfortunate that I can't remember the night... that's how out of control my drinking got. I can't even recall the flashes. All I remember was crawling up the stairs to my apartment after my friends dropped me off (nice friends, huh? I don't associate with them anymore). The Blonde said that when she got home, I was passed out in her bathroom and she was smacking me in order to wake me up. Allegedly. I don't recall.

I should have gone to the hospital that night. I was in bed for the next 4 days. I had bruises all over my body and a huge scratch on my neck in the shape of an L from where I apparently fell in the bushes. Now, it sounds like my brother went through the same pain and I really hope he's learned his lesson. That was one of my scariest drinking experiences I've ever had.

Have any of you had an incident like a breakup, that propels you to self medicate yourself to the point where you get into a scary situation?

P.S.- Sorry for such a serious post. It's just nice to know that I'm not the only one that makes bad decisions from time to time. However, I would like to note again.... the witch is gone! Hip hip hooray!

Future Prozac User

2008-04-30T15:58:00.000-07:00

Bad parenting at its finest:

Ayúdeme!

2008-04-30T09:00:00.000-07:00

The bro is graduating from college which means...I get to go shopping for a new dress! Whoo Hoo! I love excuses to spend ridiculous amounts of money on stuff I don't need. Therefore, I need your guys' opinion. What do you think about this dress?

Tequila = Sin

2008-04-28T12:58:00.000-07:00

I know this everytime I go out. Once I get tequila into my system, it over takes me and I end up making out with the closest guy that buys me a drink. This time it was a 21 year old. The poor boy never stood a chance. I think I was just grateful that he wasn't calling me ma'am.

So my friend, Softball Star and I, took the train into the Big City on Thursday night to get together with Softball Star's crush and his friends. We weren't planning on staying that late since the train doesn't run all night and we also knew that we had to get up for work in the morning. This is all our very responsible thought process while we were sober.

Then the tequila roared it's ugly head.

Softball Star wanted to calm her nerves with tequila and who am I to say no? I'm definitely a trooper when it comes to friendship, I tell you.

So, the drinks are flowing and the boys haven't shown up yet. I tell Softball Star that maybe we should mosey over to my favorite hotel bar to try a Bad Kitty (the poor thing has never had one before. Now, I don't think she'll ever have one again). Fast forward to 11:40pm (the last train was supposed to leave at midnight) and the boys finally show up. Softball Star pleads with me to stay and says that she'll pay for a taxi (about $75 minimum) to get back home. I wave her off and say that we'll figure it out later 'cause at this point, I'm already slammed and couldn't be bother with minuet details like "finding a way home." Pshhhhhhhh...

Softball Star's crush was flirting heavily with Softball Star, so I turned my attention onto his 21 year old roommate. Did I know he was 21 at this point? No. Did I know he was legal? Yes and I think that was the only detail I needed.

I believe I asked him whether or not he found me attractive (I know, where the heck do I get this mouth when I'm drunk?) and responded a nervous giggle (yes, he giggled) and said of course. Then I kissed him. At the bar. I was "that" girl.

Now, at this point, all I have for you are drunk flashes. Are you surprised? Probably not. That's how I roll.

Flash! Me in the backseat with the 21 year old kissing my neck and me trying to decide if Softball Star's crush was actually sober enough to drive (I hate myself for getting in the car with him).

Flash! Me losing my ring in front of their apartment and spending 15 minutes outside looking in the dark for it while using my cell phone as a light (The 21 year old found it).

Flash! Me in the 21 old year's bed (a twin, mind you), with him kissing me. I had to stop him though 'cause he wasn't "kissing right." I gave him some pointers, he picked up everything I said, and I high-fived him after he got it right. Yes, that's right. We high-fived. In bed.

He was a eager beaver after that 'cause he wanted to know what else this wonderful, beautiful, sexy "older" woman he had in his bed could teach him. I looked into his eyes (there were about 4 of them at that point) and told him, "Sensei has had enough for tonight, My Child. You need to have all this information sink in before we continue."

Ha! I'm not that bitchy.

I just shook my head and rolled over (while trying not to fall off the twin) and fell asleep. I was certainly thinking the sensei part though...

The Next Morning...

Cue the massive hangover and confusion about not knowing where I was. I got my stuff, kissed the 21 year old goodbye, and raced downstairs to get Softball Star and her crush to go the the train station. The crush was not budging. So, I raced back upstairs, threw the sheets off of the 21 year old and ordered him out of bed 'cause he had to take us back to the train station. We were 45 minutes away from home. Ugh.

The 21 year old is definitely a southern gentleman and actually drove us all the way back to our town. The girl that gets him next is going to be very, very happy (I should also be thanked profusely for his kissing skills now. He better not forget them).

Thus, just another Curlygirl adventure with tequila. I was going to write about Curlyboy, but he pissed me off way too much last night. I'll write about him soon...

...and then there were Bad Kitties...

2008-04-25T09:17:00.000-07:00

So, I think I'm still drunk from last night. Want to know how I know this? I've had to revise the last 2 sentences 8 times. Wait... now 9 times.

Thus... you will have to wait until Monday to hear the story about Curlyboy and but to make it up to you, I'll even throw in what happened last night as an extra post, just for you 2 readers out there. I'll be waaaaay more sober on Monday.

....

Hopefully....

Phsssssss....

2008-04-24T15:45:00.000-07:00

You know what that sound is folks?

No?

Alright, I'll tell you.

I'm not exactly sure how to correctly spell/make the sound of a tumbleweed blowing around, but I thought that was close enough.

Brace yourself folks.....

...

....

I'm going through a dry spell and right now it's not pretty.

I'm not even talking about JUST the sexual kind. I mean yeah, that's frustrating, but when I think back to all the Tools of my past...um, yeah, I'm good for now.

However, I feel like is I don't hook up with these Tools, I'm doing a disservice to you guys, all my 3 readers out there. As here's the really sad part: I won't have anything to blog about. Apparently I can't get my head out of the clouds and blog about something else besides my (lack thereof) dating life.

Therefore, I vow to tell you guys the story of Curlyboy tomorrow (I might have to put in more than 15 minutes of work here today). There's wine, sake bombs, beer, Bad Kitty cocktails (yes, that's plural) + one guy friend that I never considered to hook up with = one rough hangover and quite the "oops!" moment when I woke up the next morning.

Good times.

You know you're bored at work when...

2008-04-17T09:58:00.000-07:00

... you start watching the new Real World season on MTV.

It only goes downhill from here folks.

Entertain me

2008-04-11T09:57:00.000-07:00

I'm bored at work today (Girlie Monkey, I love how you're trying to be more productive and I'm aiming to be less productive) and I can't really think of anything to blog about. My life currently consists of work, school, and sleep. So, if anyone reads this thing and wants to know more about me, feel free to send those questions my way. I'll answer (mostly) anything and fun questions usually bring up fun stories. Bring 'em on. I'm THAT bored today...

Kisses,

Curlygirl

Bueller?

2008-04-02T16:39:00.000-07:00

I should really stop looking at Facebook and Myspace. The amount of people, including ex-lovers, that are now engaged or "in a relationship" is a little bit nauseating. And slightly depressing. And makes me think I'm the only single person left on this earth.

Anyone else feeling this way? Anyone?

Bueller?

P.S.- However, since it is spring, it is now officially Break-Up season. I know of 3 couples thus far that have called it quits. I think most people like being single during the summertime. There's more BBQs going on which means two things... drinking during the daytime and hooking-up. I'm pretty good at the drinking during the day part, but I can't usually make it to the last part 'cause I'm usually past out by 6pm. Good times indeed.

An Early Birthday Wish

2008-04-02T16:20:00.000-07:00

Summertime's coming. We all know what that means: Baby Brother's Girlfriend is probably going to be around more.

Now here's the thing: they've been dating for over 2 years now while in college (long-distance, what a waste) and I still don't even feel like I know this girl. Seriously. She's so freaking quiet and distant towards me and the rest of my family, that I'm worried that if they get married (p.s- never mention "marriage" "Baby Brother" and "Baby Brother's Girlfriend" around my mother), there's going to be a rift between our family 'cause she doesn't make an effort to get to know us.

So my (extremely) early birthday wish this year is for the following to happen:

1. Baby Brother's Girlfriend changes her attitude and becomes a girl that my family would love to have hang around the house.

2. Baby Brother gets a new girlfriend. Someone I can be friends with, go shopping with, feel like I can talk to. She would be perky, outgoing, smart, and tall! For crying out loud Baby Brother! You keep picking these petite girls under 5'1" and you're 6'4"!!! Think about the family genes!

In essence, I would rather have option 2 happen. I mean, really... isn't always about me anyways?

Re: Oops!

2008-03-28T10:40:00.001-07:00

Alright, I have a little downtime, so let's talk about Verizon.

He's sucks.

Still.

So I went to the other side of the state to see old friends and well, I really wanted to see Verizon. I mean he was so playful and charming as always through his phone calls and text messages, so how could I not want to see him?

He called the day before my trip to confirm that I was still going and that he was really looking forward to seeing me.

So I get to the other side of the state and the party begins. The Blonde picked me up from the airport after I ran into Old Roommate at the airport (so random) and we talked about plans for the evening.

The Blonde: "So, what do you think about taking out the limo tonight and going to [insert fancy restaurant] and after going for drinks at [insert fancy restaurant/bar]?"

Me: "I'm so in!"

Gotta love The Blonde and all the wealth she comes with. Thank goodness she's so down to earth and awesome.

So, we head back to her mansion and change for the night. I texted Verizon that we were heading to [insert fancy restaurant] and he should come join us for a drink. I did this at about 5:20pm. He texted back at 7:15ish (I was fuming at that time) saying that he couldn't make it (even though when I texted him when I got off the plane, he wanted to see me asap. Funny how things change).

So, fine whatever. I ate instead. And drink. A lot (I was on vacation after all). We then went to [insert fancy bar] and started to drink some more. Then The Blonde started to get hit on by a very nice cute guy. Go Blonde! However, his friends though they should try their lines out on me (Boo.) Here's what all makes me curious: if a guy seems ok then his friends turn out to be tools, does that reflect badly on him? I think it does. Not one, but two of them came over to try to flirt, but I bailed to the bathroom both times. I kept glancing at my phone to see if Verizon had text me, but nothing yet (he was bartending).

We left when the bar was closing after The Blonde got the nice guy's number and then got upset at her bartender crush from the restaurant we were at earlier (don't ask. Way too long of a story). So, on our way home, Verizon finally texted me saying he couldn't wait to see me.

So, he drove the 30 minutes to the Blonde's house to chat and take me back to his place. There, we got um... reacquainted, I guess you could say. It was like old times and I definitely enjoyed myself. There. Done. I am a "lady" afterall.

The next morning, I wake up early (as usual) and start to feel claustrophobic. Or bored. Something along those lines. So I wake him up because he was supposed to go into work at the department store, but he was over it. Apparently he wanted to spend more time with me. Uh-huh. He called into work to his boss and his excuse was, "Sorry, but I just don't have any energy today." Wow. Stupidest excuse ever. Hands down.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but I was up. And hungry. Verizon got his ass into the shower and then wanted to take me out to breakfast. Umm... I was definitely not down with that. I still had my going-out outfit on and I managed to swipe a cardigan before I left The Blonde's. I suggested just getting bagels and driving back to The Blonde's to look at the view. But Verizon was insisting on taking me out to breakfast. Fine then. I grabbed one of his shirts, tucked it into my jeans, threw on the cardigan, and we were off.

At breakfast, he couldn't keep his hands off of me. Seriously. He kept calling me beautiful and sexy and kept gazing at me. "Wow," I thought to myself, "he's really changed."

He took me back to The Blonde's and slyly asked to see if The Blonde could drive me to his place tonight. Ummm...so not going to fly. I told him that I was really looking forward to tonight and being with him again and he said that he couldn't wait. He drove off and I took a long, hot shower and took a nap.

That night, we were going to a white trash party and then I was supposed to meet up with Verizon later. Never happened (as usual). We texted each other around 8pm and that was it. I texted him around 12pm and called as well, but he never picked up. I still haven't heard from him since then.

You know what made me not cry that night? I made out with the Salesman (long story, but the gist of it is that we met each other up by me last year, kept in touch randomly since then, and finally met up with each other again when I was down by him). I swear, that's the only reason why I didn't cry. What's that saying? Oh yeah, the only way to get over one cowboy, is to get under another. Love it 'cause it's true. Now, I didn't do anything besides make out with the Salesman, but it sure felt better than being depressed about Verizon.

So, ladies and gentlemen, that's my story of Verizon. I hope that by writing this, I will have the strength to remember that he will never change and clearly doesn't really care about anyone besides himself. One of these days, I do hope that he will be a chapter in my life that I will finally be able to close. I know that it's my own fault to believe that he might have grown up a little, but I guess not.

Now, just to let you all know: I have papers and presentations due in the upcoming weeks. If anything ridiculous happens or there is a boy update (doubtful, unless one falls into my lap at the library), there's still going to be a lack of posting until May. I will try my hardest to get a few in though. Don't miss me too much...

Oops!

2008-03-24T14:51:00.000-07:00

I lied. He doesn't make me swoon. He's a jerk that pulls the same crap over and over again.

To be continued...

(I promise. It's going to be a slow work week)

He makes me swoon

2008-03-11T09:52:00.000-07:00

Text Message from Verzion at 12:36pm on Sunday:

"This is so the week I've been waiting for."

(In regarding to my upcoming trip to the other side of the state this weekend)

To sum it up...

2008-03-04T15:37:00.000-08:00

Gianluca: is pissing me off. From Italy. Go figure.

Work: Boring.

School: Boring, but I have a way better social life right now.

Curlyboy (a new addition): So completely not my type. Too much energy. Doesn't know how to stop teasing me and start flirting with me if he actually likes me. Hate his 80's clothing. However... I can't stop kissing him...

That's all I got for now. I'm not really in the writing mood. Later this week, I'll tell you how Curlyboy and I hooked up (from what I can remember). Oh yeah! I'm going to the other side of the state next weekend... hope Verizon will be happy to see me :-)

The Curse

2008-02-06T09:27:00.000-08:00

What is it about bikini waxes? Why is it whenever I get one 'cause I think I'm going to get lucky, it always seems to have the opposite effect?

The setting: Friday night

A little bit of background: JT texted me earlier in the week to come over, but I couldn't because I had class. So I told him we should get together Friday and he agreed. Fast forward to Friday, I texted him to see if we were still on and he said yes. I can just gotten a wax the night before and I was happy that I was actually going to be able to show it off. Soooooooo not the case that night. I went to the bars with a friend and texted him around 12:30 to see if he was still up. Nothing. I called him around 1am... nothing. I should have probably stopped there, but I was drunk and frisky, so I called one more time. Nothing. (sigh).

That bastard now thinks I'm one of those crazy girls that call him all the time. He still hasn't gotten back to me (weird) and he now has deleted me from his yahoo account. No more booty call... which looking back, might be sort of a blessing. He was really boring.

I've come to the conclusion that every single time I get a bikini wax, it jinxes me. I don't get lucky. At all. It's always so disappointing because it feels like such a waste. It's when I feel like a mammoth, boys all of a sudden coming running over.

So ladies, what's your take on this? Do you get waxes for yourself or for the opposite sex?

Related?

2008-01-31T15:29:00.000-08:00

Text message on Saturday night on my brother's phone:

Time 10:53pm

"Where are you?"

From: My Beautiful Sister

I mean, where did he come from? They actually make guys like my brother? This is also the guy that will pick me up from any airport and booked me a full-body massage when the Aussie broke up with me... Mom has him trained well...

The Rundown...

2008-01-29T09:00:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'm taking too long about Rome and Dublin, so I'm going to lump them all together. Yes, I know, Italy AND Ireland are both kind of random. Here's the thing: the Blonde and her boyfriend broke up during the fall and since she was bumming, I suggested we go on a trip to Europe and get out of town for New Year's. The Blonde had always wanted to go to Italy and I really wanted to see my relatives in Ireland, so we compromised and spent 7 days in Italy and 3 days in Ireland.

Rome: gorgeous, ancient, and big. Basically, since we were so hungover from the night before (shocking, I know), the Blonde and I took a 4 hour nap and barely made it out on time in our fancy clothes for New Year's. We almost could have missed out on being drenched in champagne! That would have been a travesty. Apparently, when you see small groups of people standing around holding bottles of champagne and talking with their friends, they aren't actually waiting for midnight to come and so they can pop open the bottles and toast to the New Year. Lord no. Why would anyone want to DRINK the alcohol? Instead, let's definitely seek out the two American girls that look so cold and so out of place because they're the only ones that got dressed up, and pour tons of champagne on them while they crouch down, trying to shield their very expensive cameras from all the liquid. Yep, that sounds like a good plan to me.

After the hoopla died down, the Blonde and I tried to walk back to the hotel, but since the taxi driver that drove us from the train station to the hotel and the taxi driver that drove us from the hotel to the Piazza for New Year's (got that? good.) both took different directions, we were all confused about how to get back. Plus, I had a blonde with me so that was two strikes against me (kidding! love you Blondie!). We asked what we thought was a helpful Italian guy which way it was to the river and he kind of pointed in a direction and went back to talking with his friends. So we started walking... a lot. It was freezing out, so we stopped in a bar really quick for something hot to drink. You know what makes me a genius? Having coffee at 1:00am. I can't have coffee here past 3:30pm otherwise, I won't be able to go to sleep at 11:30pm THAT NIGHT. What's that I hear? Well, thank you. I do know that I'm completely smart and awesome. When in Rome...

Anyways, did I mention that people are staring at us? More so the Blonde, 'cause she's well, blonde, but also because she's wearing an all white outfit and has open toed sandals on. In 30 degree weather. Granted, we both thought that we'd do the whole New Year's thing outside for a little bit, then go find a bar and hang out. However, since we were drenched with champagne and exhausted, we just wanted to go back to bed. The Big Guy Upstairs clearly had other plans for us that night. Apparently, we were walking south when we should have been walking north. We went AN HOUR out of our way home. An hour. In high heels. On freaking cobblestones. Did I also mention that there were no taxies around? None. Nil. Nada. Zippo.

Needless to say, that after taking another break (this time for a beer), we managed to make it back to our room at 4am. We walked for 2 1/2 hours (sober), finally got a taxi who took us 3 blocks from where our hotel was. Nice. And guess what else? I was still wired from that little cup of coffee at 4am. I had to knock myself out with sleeping pills (my savior) in order for me to get up and go sightseeing at a decent time the next day. Guess what else? I got up before the Blonde :-) 'Cause that's how I roll.

And that was Rome.

Dublin: freaking cold!, rainy, but as I told the Blonde, you go for the people. My relatives kick ass. On this trip though, they actually kicked MY ass. Well, Prada did.

Let's take it back a couple of months where my cousin emailed me asking what we wanted to do while there. I told her the Blonde wanted to go to the Guinness brewery and the Jameson distillery if there was time (do you see what's important to us here?). My cousin mentioned that she wanted to take us horseback riding up in the mountains and that it was really pretty up there and blah, blah, blah. I'm not too keen on horses (Christopher Reeve's kind of ruined them for me) and neither is the Blonde, but we both agreed that we should do it 'cause how many times can you say you've been horseback riding in Ireland? We're all about the bragging rights.

Well.

Did I mention how cold it was? How it was storming and blustering (learned that word from the pilot on the way over to Ireland) out? Well it was. My cousin said that the ride might be cancelled because it was storming, but the horse people said to come anyways. Awesome.

On the way up there, it started snowing. Now, for sure I knew it rained in Ireland, but I had no idea that it snowed there. Well, I might have had some sort of an idea, but I really did expect it to while there. Mainly because I hadn't dressed for the snow.

So even though the weather was sucking, the horse people said that it was a go. I was picked first and my horse's name was Prada. He was the biggest horse I've ever seen. Isn't everything in Ireland supposed to be little? The Blonde was bumming because there was a horse there named Versace, but the instructor told her that he was a bit crazy. The Blonde was happy to get an old timmer named CJ and my cousin got a horse with a really Irish name that I can't pronounce or spell. So let's call her's Bob.

We were supposed to go for 2 hours, but because of the weather, we cut it down to 1 hour. Again, fine by me. I was freaking out. Seriously, I've been on a horse a couple of times before, but Prada was by far the biggest. It was really pretty riding a horse while it was snowing. The snowflakes would fall down and just lay lightly on you. It was just so picturesque for like 30 minutes. Want to know what happened for the other 30 minutes? It's started pouring down rain. Freezing rain. This is the type of rain that penetrates your skin, so you feel it in your bones. My nipples could cut glass at this point. Nothing could top a moment like this... except, perhaps when the instructor suggests we trot. Um... say what?

Has anyone ever tried trotting on a horse when it's pouring? Do you know how much you slide? My abs and legs have never received that good of a workout. Prada definitely liked to trot. I think it was because he was sick of the rain and cold and wanted to be in his stall again. However, he didn't plan for some whiny American bitch to be on his back, preventing him from running his ass home. It was clearly a love/hate relationship between us.

We made it back safe and sound and I was never so happy to be on solid ground. Or was I? For the next 3 days (the whole time I spent in Ireland), I could barely walk. My back hurt, my arms hurt, my love muscles in my legs hurt. I felt like I spent an all night bed romping session with a very large black man.

Needless to say, Prada hurt me, but in all the right areas. I chased away my pain with many, many glasses of Jameson and cran (try it. It tastes like candy). Also, I'm now a professional drinker according to the Jameson distillery. I have the certificate and everything! My mom is so proud!

Those are just two stories from my vacation. I have some more, but I'll probably save those for a rainy day.

Done with kisses

2008-01-23T10:54:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'm done with all the makeout stories in Europe. I'll try to hurry up with the Rome and Ireland stories.

I Left My Heart (and gloves) in Florence

2008-01-16T13:04:00.000-08:00

"Ok, so let's just go to dinner, check out the discoteca, then call it an early night. We don't want to party ourselves out too much since New Year's Eve is tomorrow night."

It was such a smart plan we had. We really did want to go the responsible route. However, Florence had other ideas for us.

We had quite a day taking snapshots of the Leaning Tower in Pisa (which, by the way, is home to where I had the best pizza ever in my life. BEST. EVER.) and we were memorized by the statue of David. Fun stuff. Good pictures.

So we went to dinner and I swear, there's something else besides alcohol in the wine there. Drunk immediately. The Blonde and I were talking about how beautiful Florence was and how much we are looking forward to spending New Year's in Rome, when the two guys next to us started to talking to us. They were trying really, really hard to speak English. I felt bad because I would just smile and nod and just there. During this time, I tried Limoncello for the first time and it was exquisite. The waiters seemed to like us, so they bought us another round of after dinner drinks. Delicious.

The guys sitting next to us invited The Blonde and I back to their hotel to drink some more. They said they had a magnum of wine and my ears perked up right away. We got to "hotel" which was a cross between a dorm room and a hostel and kept on the drinking. I know that the guys were trying to talk to me, but I admitted defeat with trying to learn Italian back in Milan, so I just wasn't having it. An hour into drinking that wonderful wine and talking, The Blonde and I were feeling restless. We were ready to dance!!!!

Except we didn't know where we were. I felt bad for The Blonde on the trip. Well, not too too bad, but slightly bad. I really depended on her to translate all the Italian that was going on around us. But, heey, when we were in Ireland, I "translated" for her. More on that later.

The guys that we were with ran into a big group of guys and it seemed like they were friends. The Blonde and I were over hanging out with them, so we asked one nice guy from the group where the discoteca was. He pointed us in the direction to go and we started heading off. I needed to go to the bathroom extremely badly and The Blonde just wanted to get rid of those guys, so we quickly walked into the first bar that we saw which happened to be an Irish pub. I entered into the bathroom, did my business, and when I came out saw that the guys had followed us in. Ugh...

We walked outside and started to head into the direction of the discoteca when two guys called us over. The Blonde and I gave each other one look and went over to them. They explained that there was a discoteca in the hotel and we should try it out. Excellent. We headed inside and this time, the two guys didn't follow us in. Finally, we had a break.

Not for long though. I swear, as soon as an Italian guy sees a girl, he "claims" her for the rest of the night. Enter Bad Dancer and his sidekick. We were at the bar getting a drink (like we needed another one) and they snake up to us and start trying to drag us into a conversation with them. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I get drunk I get friendly. So, I was nice to bad dancer, at first, but then I got over it. I remember him dragging me onto the dance floor and being horrified at his dancing "skills," him shoving his tongue down my throat (gag me), and them just not leaving us alone!!!!!

The Blonde and I had had enough. We said that we had to go 'cause we had to leave early the next day. As we were paying to leave, Bad Dancer and Sidekick were right behind us. Again, The Blonde and I took one look at each other and booked it! We ran into the Dublin pub and the bartender apologized that they stopped serving drinks. We said it was completely fine, we were just hiding from some sleezeballs and just needed shelter for a moment.

That's when I saw him. We locked eyes from across the bar and he was the typical Italian guy I always imagined. Dark wavy hair, glasses, cute smile, dressed so handsomely in his black coat and white scarf. I was swooning. He offered me a glass of champagne and then one to The Blonde. He introduced himself as Gianluca and then introduced the rest of his friends. One of them was Davide, who was very nice and friendly. They kept us in conversation and when we got kicked out of the bar and onto the street, we didn't even notice. The Blonde and I were relishing the attention.

"So, do you want to drink some more?," Gianluca asked.

I gave him a curious look and asked where. I was not about to go to anyone's house or anything like that again.

"My family owns a restaurant two stores down. Come have a drink."

So we did. The Blonde and I were surround by four Italian guys that gave us wine and feed us biscotti. Feed us!

There was a lot of dancing (including some on a table) and lots of laughing. It was a once in a lifetime experience to just hang out at an Italian restaurant in Italy just talking and laughing and dancing the night away.

Two of the guys left and Gianluca and I were dancing. He looked at me and said, "I like you." I couldn't help but beam. He kissed me then. The butterflies were back!

We spent the rest of the night kissing and talking. He actually whispered sweet nothings to me in Italian! He talked a little of his background and mentioned that he wants to move to America (uh-huh) and asked if I would be his girlfriend when he moved there (oh sure). I didn't believe half the stuff he said, but it was just fun to hear.

The Blonde was, um... occupied with one of his friends and it was getting to that point where she needed to go before something "bad" happened. We left, but Gianluca and I exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. The Blonde and I got back to our hotel at 7am. I passed out in my clothes. What a sign of an awesome night.

P.S.- Gianluca and I have kept in contact quite a bit. I'll keep everyone updated if he actually moves here. Ha!

Milan: The Land of Turned-up Noses

2008-01-10T14:46:00.000-08:00

"Parla ingelese?"

"No," the little man behind the ticketing counter said and then starts talking to the woman behind me. Fast italian ensues.

"We're never going to leave the subway," I said to The Blonde.

The Blonde and I arrived in Milan on December 27th after roughly 14 hours of flying. Yes, you saw that right. 14 HOURS. This does not include our layover in Philly which was roughly 2 hours. How did we pass the time you ask? Well with alcohol of course!

God bless Duty Free and all it's awesome alcohol. We just wanted to get a little bottle of Seagrams to swig on the plane, but goodness no! Duty Free definitely does not sell anything little. Basically, we HAD to buy the big bottle of Seagrams, which we barely made a dent in on the plane. I had barely eaten that day, so once I had a hearty glass of 7&7 that The Blonde made for me, out came the confessions.

"So, I've started talking to Verizon again."

"I met this new guy name JT."

"JT is officially my booty call."

The Blonde, who hates to be in the dark, was not pleased at first, but when I told her that she's the only one that knows about this stuff, she became happy again. Secrets will do that to a person.

Anyways, on with Milan.

Apparently, the travel agent deposited us to the Milan airport that is pretty much an hour outside of the city center. So we took a train. No sweat. Then we had to get on a tram to our hotel. Big, big, big problem there. The Blonde took one semester of Italian in college and I have years and years of high school and one year of college experience with Spanish. However, when you start talking in Spanish to people in Italy, the majority of them will give you very weird looks. I got used to this by the time I left.

After an hour of roaming around the train station, trying to find out where to purchase our tram tickets, The Blonde just sucked it up, dusted off her beginning Italian and got us two tickets on the tram. Yea for Blondes!

I think my opinion of the people of Milan being stuck up first started with our hotel concierge. He was nice at first, but then we started asking him questions.

"So, where's a good place to go for dinner."

He looks at the clock and then gives us a weird look, "but it's only 6. No, no, no, people in Milan don't eat until at least 8." Then he looked us like, "ok, get out of my presence now."

Make a note: try not to ask any questions in Milan. They don't like it.

Our first day consisted of napping, people giving us weird looks, and snapping some pictures of the Duomo. Basic stuff. By the morning of Day 2, we were ready to leave. People would look at us like we were crazy if we asked if they spoke English. Plus, it was super cold there. Do you know how close Milan is to the freaking Alps?! Well, I didn't know until the plane was starting to land.

Anyways, after half a day of sightseeing, The Blonde and I decided to nap for a bit in preparation for going out (while also drinking a bottle of wine), but we were gossiping up a storm about our bikini lines, when suddenly it occurred to us why were we even bothering to go out. It's not like anyone liked us there. So, we got dressed and headed out for an early meal. Where we had another bottle of wine. Which lead us to the American bar down the corner where we had 3 Snakebites. Which lead us to find pizza, which again lead us in front of two random Italian guys.

Now this where the fun begins.

My memory when I'm drunk is usually shot, so I'm going to tell this exactly how I remember it. In flashes.

I stumble up to one of the guys and ask if he knows English. "A little," he says (Note: whenever you ask this and they say "a little," they really do know a shit load. Like they can do full on conversations. When someone asks me if I can speak spanish, I say a little and can only say "hola," "Me llamo Curlygirl," and "que paso?"). I give him the once over and decide he's cute. We start having a conversation (I think) and The Blonde is eyeing his friend. More talking.

Flash.

The Blonde and I are in the backseat of their car (my guy is Davide and The Blonde's crush left, so we're stuck with this guy that goes by The Might Pirate driving us). The Blonde and I are trying to make note of where our hotel is and where this bar is that we're going to. We're not doing well at all.

Flash.

We're at another bar and there's a shot of Captain Morgan's in front of me provided by the Mighty Pirate. (I think someone has seen Pirates of the Caribbean one too many times). Not one to pass up free alcohol, I take it. As does The Blonde.

Flash.

I come out of the women's bathroom and wash my hands in the sink area. Davide comes out of the men's bathroom, sees me, grins, pushes me against the wall, and we proceed to makeout. Fun stuff, but an interesting makeout location that he's chosen.

Flash.

Davide and the Mighty Pirate are in our hotel room. The Blonde and the Mighty Pirate are either kissing or he's saying sweet Italian nothings to her on the bed. Lucky girl. Now me, on the other hand, had a bit of a situation to deal with with Davide. Apparently, the Italians have octopus hands. He had dragged me into the bathroom (which, mind you, was barely bigger and an airplane one. Seriously. I hit my elbow everytime on the shower door when I was reaching for toilet paper.) How we fit two people in that bathroom, I will never know. His hands were everywhere!!!! My two favorite words that night were, "stop it!" We would be kissing and then all of a sudden my bra would be off and his hands would be all over my chest! Then his shirt would suddenly be open (which may I add, was very nice. He had a very chiseled chest. Me likely.) Somehow, The Blonde managed to kick them out and I think I made it to bed that night around 6am. Not bad for an "early" night.

Flash.

I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover I've had all year and my lips were cracked and bruised from all the kissing. They were literally purple!!!! I have never had that, not even when I was a teenager! My skin around my mouth area was also so completely rubbed raw by the experience, I looked like I had a red beard for the rest of the day.

Fucking Milan.

Miss me?

2008-01-07T16:56:00.000-08:00

The vacation break was just what I needed. As soon as I have a moment, I'll break down my trip into 4 separate posts:

Milan: The Land of Turned Up Noses

I Left My Heart in Florence

Freaking Roman Cobblestones

Prada Kicked My Ass in Ireland

Make sure to come back...it's gonna be good stuff.

Pet Peeve #347

2007-12-19T13:56:00.000-08:00

I went to the gym late last night 'cause I loath going there when it's crowded right after work. I climbed onto the elliptical machine and prepared to sweat my little booty (haha, "little" my ass!) off. There were about 20 machines all lined up in a row. A lady was at the very end, so I chose to go to the opposite end. The thing with me is, I hate sweating and breathing heavily next to people at the gym. Especially people I don't know.

So I'm about 10 minutes into my exercise, rocking out to Fergie and some other random rappers, when low and behold, this 40 year old tool gets on the machine RIGHT NEXT TO ME!!! I looked past him to see if all of a sudden all the machines were taken. They weren't. It was still just me and that lady down at the other end. There were about 17-18 other machines available and he chooses that one?! Why?!!!!! So freaking annoying. I was glaring at him out of the corner of my eye the entire time.

People, just remember: think about your gym neighbors. It's hard, but sometimes we just want to sweat in peace.

Thank you.

Kisses

2007-12-18T11:45:00.000-08:00

As I was writing my previous post, I was thinking about how much I want to kiss an Italian guy. I think my make-out experience has been quite culturally diverse. Let's see: American, Australian, Mexican, Columbian, Irish, Russian, Ukrainian, Dutch, and Swedish/Norwegian (it was dark, loud, he had blond hair and an accent, and I was waaaaaay too drunk. It's one of those two). How is it possible that Italian isn't even on that list?!!! Seriously, my friends all rave about Italian guys. They're apparently very sensual and are great kissers.

So...I think it's high time that I add an Italian to my make-out list. So, how do I go about seducing one? Will my usual tactics work on them like they work on the American guys? (i.e.- making playful drunk eyes at them and, the oldie but goodie, wearing a shirt with lots of cleavage. It's my favorite accessory). Hmmmm...ladies, any thoughts on how to improve Curlygirl's chances with the Eye-talians? Are there any Italian men out there that can help? I really want to come back with some fun stories for you guys. I've already conquered the Emerald Isle, it's now onto The Boot!

I'm officially old and boring

2007-12-18T09:40:00.000-08:00

This weekend, I realized how much I value sleep over spending tons of money at a packed bar for alcohol and flirting with drunk 22 year olds that will just forget my name a minute after they meet me. Oh my gosh....I'm getting old AND bitter!!! What a winning combination! Seriously, how has no one snatched me up yet when I have such a sparkling attitude about everything?

I did budget my money this weekend, so I can see how much money I'm willing to spend on Italy and Ireland. I'm leaving in 8 days. New Year's in Rome...(sigh)...I'm so happy I'll be spending New Year's outside the country. Anyways, after I pay my tuition tomorrow, I think I'm really gonna have to bat my eyes at my parents and grandparents in hopes they will give me nothing but moola for Christmas. Fingers crossed here.

What's everyone else's New Year's plans looking like?

A Letter

2007-12-13T09:12:00.000-08:00

Oh how I love thee Pomegranate Margaritas. The first sip was hard to get down considering you basically consisted of straight tequila, but you made me feel so good an hour later. And an hour after that. In fact, you made me feel so good the entire night, I did somethings I wouldn't have done otherwise. This includes:

-drinking not one, but two huge glasses of your fine self and then half a bottle of wine

-hinting to HS Princess that she might want to start thinking about dumping that "boyfriend" of hers... especially considering she hasn't been getting any for about 2 months

-being an adult and trying to fake an interest in the Flirt's love life

-texting Verizon dirty messages and naughty images

Thank you pomegranate margaritas, thank you. I now sit here at my desk wishing it was 5pm instead of 9:21am. What a long day this will be. Can't wait to see you on Saturday though...

Of Course

2007-12-11T09:54:00.000-08:00

Stressful is the only way to describe work last Friday. Too much drama, not enough appreciation for me. Ugh. I don't want to talk about it. I just wanted to unwind.

The Cheerleader invited me to happy hour with her co-workers. I wasn't sure I should be around people considering my mood, but I thought, "Hey, why not? Drinking will be involved."

As I was driving down the main street to get in the downtown area, I stopped at a stop light. I look to my left at the bar where I met the Aussie the first time, and low and behold, guess who was outside laughing and having a smoke with his friends? Yeah, that's right the Aussie. The guy that was supposed to be on the other side of the planet. He didn't leave?! He's still here on MY TURFF?! Did he lie to me about moving back to Australia?

I glared at him through the window. Then the light turned green. I sped off, anxious for a drink (or 5).

Jerk.

Ick

2007-12-07T12:12:00.001-08:00

Did anyone else see that kiss between McDreamy and Nurse Rose last night? I wouldn't mind the pairing if they were somewhat hot and passionate together. But that kiss looked like it could be between a brother and a sister. It was awkward and it looked like it was forced to last that long. I keep watching the show in hopes that it'll get better, but it seems to disappoint me, week after week.

Curse Facebook

2007-12-07T09:07:00.001-08:00

Punk Rock Girl turned me onto Myspace. She was already signed up for Friendster, but Myspace was going to be the new "hot" thing.

It took me awhile to get into it, but now I'm hooked. In fact, because my job bores me so much, I spend more time on Myspace than actually "working." Sad, but true.

Anyways, while I was still working at my university, my work study student said I should sign up for Facebook. I did, but I couldn't really get into it. I just didn't see what the appeal was and that stupid list of things that people write on other people's page always bothered me. It was voyeurism to the extreme. Thus, trouble.

A little bit of backstory. The Aussie and I broke up after a year of dating back in March. He dumped me over the phone saying that he wasn't ready for that serious of a relationship. Nice, huh?

Anyways, we hadn't talked since. His best friend from Australia called me a couple of times trying to setup an international booty call, but I wasn't having it. What a sleezeball.

The Australian Sleezeball friend requested me about two months ago on Facebook. Since I really never go on there, I just pressed accept and was done with it. Mistake #1.

A month after that, the Australian Sleezeball emailed me asking me how I was, that I looked gorgeous and he wants to ravish my body, and did I hear that the Aussie was moving back home?

Hold up...what?!

The Aussie's birthday was a week away and I had been debating about emailing him to wish him a Happy Birthday. I had been over him a long time, but part of me always wishes that he would wake up one day, realize I was the best thing that ever happened to him, and come crawling back to me, where my response would be, "Are you kidding me?! Hell no!" I think everyone just wants to be wanted. So, I thought maybe a Happy Birthday email would be hurry things along to that realization.

Curlygirl: Hey Aussie, I just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday. Hope life is treating you well!

P.S.- I hear you might be moving back to Australia?

The Aussie: Hi Curlygirl! Thanks for the birthday wishes. I was actually thinking about emailing you, but I wasn't sure if I should. I'm really glad you emailed me. Yes, it's true. I am moving back at the end of the month. I just decide that's where I want to settle down and be closer to my family and friends. How have you been?

Mistake #2 was writing him back.

Curlygirl: I've been really good. I'm getting ready to apply for grad school (wish me luck) and I'm still working at the Company. I'm also heading to Italy and Ireland after Christmas. Well, that's great to hear you're moving back. I'm sure your family and friends can't wait to have you home. How was your birthday?

The Aussie: Good luck with grad school. I decided to rent a bus to take 25 friends and I around to all the bars. It was such a great time! You should have been there, you would have loved it!

Yeah, I'm pretty happy about my decision. This was the best time to go back, but I will be coming back and forth for work a couple times a year. (blah, blah, blah).

Needless to say, I did not want to speak to him after that. Um..."I should have come?! You should have been there?!" Well, you didn't invite me jerkoff! (Note: not like I would have gone. I hate his friends and would rather walk on broken glass than to have to spend a couple hours on a booze bus with 25 alcoholics. Is anyone else surprised that this relationship was doomed? :-)

A couple of weeks later, he friend requested me on Facebook. I was hesitant, but my own morbid curiosity got the better of me and I accepted (Mistake #3). On his page, he had his arm wrapped around a girl with a horse face. I thought they were either friends or he was dating her. It didn't matter much to me either way. Maybe this time around we could both be adults and perhaps start a friendship. That thinking lasted 24 hours.

The next day, I signed onto Facebook (a record!). Low and behold, that stupid scroll thing got me in the end. The Aussie put down he was engaged! To Horseface Girl!!!! Underneath the picture of the two of them, he wrote, "Meet the lucky lady." Lucky my ass! Ran Horseface Girl, Run!!

My mouth dropped open as I was reading that. He breaks up with me only a couple months ago, citing that he's not ready for a commitment and he gets engaged right after me?! Wow, I feel just like Sally from When Harry Met Sally. You know, where she starts crying because the guy she was with for 6 YEARS up and marries his rebound relationship? Plus, she has curly hair.

I didn't cry. I wasn't sad. I was just angry! Jerk! I quickly deleted him and the Australian Sleezeball from Facebook and deleted all the emails that the Aussie ever sent me. I was holding onto them, because I liked looking back and seeing there was a time when a guy was truly infatuated with me. Now, I just consider that whole relationship a waste of time.

So, we have learned that:

1) Facebook gives nothing but bad news

2) Americans and Australians shouldn't have relationships nor can ever be friends (this is just in my case)

3) Meg Ryan and I rock the curly hair look

I'm not one of them

2007-12-05T09:10:00.000-08:00

I talked to Punk Rock Girl for a bit last night. I knew the dreaded question was coming:

"So, any new guys in your life?" (Also known as, "How's your guy situation?" or "Have you met anyone lately?")

(Sigh).

I hate this question. I also hate the fact that I'm getting older and this question pops up more and more frequently. I'm not about to settle down with any guy that's at least sort of nice to me (like HS Princess). I always felt like I was a little bit different from my friends, because I was never one to always have a boyfriend or be interested in a boy all the time. Am I weird that I just don't feel the need to settle? I don't mind being by myself. I like myself way better than the majority of guys I meet anyways. Sometimes I feel the need to date a lot just so my attached friends are amused and can give me "advice." Is this what I have to look forward to now that I'm older?

Blah.

Italy is gonna love me

2007-12-03T13:54:00.000-08:00

I just bought the cutest wrap yesterday. This is what happens when I shop with my mother:

"But mom, I don't need it."

"You should definitely have [insert clothing or shoe type]. It's practical."

"Seriously mother, it's too much money."

"Curly girl, you look so skinny in it."

(Curlygirl makes a mad dash to the cash register).

Every. Single. Time. I'm not kidding. Somehow, even shoes make me look skinny. I know I don't need that much persuading when it comes to shopping, but shouldn't she be a mother and remind me that I have a ton of bills that still need to be paid? No, and that's why I love her. This is why she's my favorite shopping partner. This is also why I don't shop with my dad.

Here's a picture of my fabulous wrap that will be going with me to Italy and Ireland. The saleswoman showed me how to wear it a million different ways. It's a good investment (this is what I have to tell myself).

Mmmmmm...Sundays

2007-12-02T11:36:00.000-08:00

Going to see JT tonight. Glad he's not irritated with me. I hate losing a cuddle buddy. Apparently football is on the agenda, but I doubt that's all it's going to be.

I'm a sucker for the awesome extras

2007-12-01T16:03:00.000-08:00

My friends can pick my type of guy after a minute of scanning the bar. Essentials: tall, dark hair, nice smile, beefy looking, like a baseball or football player. Awesome extras: glasses and an accent.

My most recent ex-boyfriend had all the essentials, plus the accent. Needless to say, I cringe now whenever I hear the Australian accent. More on him later.

The previous ex before him had the essentials plus one awesome extra: the glasses. Oh man, was he cute. The night I met him, he was on his phone in the parking lot, wearing a dark blue jacket and wearing those thick Emo glasses. He looked like the Verizon guy, except way hotter. Trust me, he's way better looking.

He was talking on the phone and my friends and I were making fun on him, since it seemed like he was having an intense conversation. Our eyes met and I gave him my signature coy smile, then looked away.

He approached me later on that night and introduced himself as the manager of the restaurant. Swoon! As a newly 21 year old, it doesn't get any better than a hot guy that has the power to give you free drinks at the hottest Taco Tuesdays bar in town.

We flirted for a bit and then he walked away.

"Give him your number," Punk Rock Girl said.

"No, he didn't ask for it. He would have asked if he was interested."

"He's totally interested in you!!! Just give him your number. He's so hot!"

I shook my head. It wasn't really my style to give my phone number away to guy that never even asked for it. But it was Punk Rock Girl's style.

As I was chit-chatting with our group of friends, Punk Rock Girl and The Blonde wrote down my cell number on a napkin. Verizon came back to talk some more with me and my friends. As we were talking, Punk Rock Girl tucks the napkin inside his shirt pocket and looks him dead in the eye and says, "This is Curlygirl's number. You should definitely call her."

Man, do my friends embarrass me.

But, he did call. 6 days later at 2am. I didn't pick up. Ummm... seriously?!

I went back to his restaurant the next night with my friends. Verizon seemed excited to see me and quickly approached me.

"You didn't call me back," he said.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure I was going to considering I thought it was probably a booty call or something."

"Why would you think that?"

"You called me at 2am."

"Oh..." Verizon looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I had just gotten off of work."

He apologized again and offered me a margarita. Then we began dating.

We dated for a few months, then he disappeared. Without warning, without a reason. Just fell off the planet. I was a wreck. I couldn't stop crying. Somehow, I felt this deep connection with him that I never felt before and I couldn't shake. He called a couple months later and I happily took him back, too scared to ask for a reason why he left. He bailed a month later the exact same way.

6 months past and I called him because I was lonely one night. He picked up the phone and I left to go over to his place. Being around him always felt right, even though I knew he was completely wrong for me.

I moved back to the other side of the state, back to my hometown, a couple of years ago. I go visit my friends from college every few months and the last time I saw him, I had purposely left my necklace at his place in hopes to see him two days in a row. He ignored my phone calls and text messages, until an hour before I was due to fly back. Prick.

That was the last I heard of him. I ignored his text messages saying that he missed me. I started dating the Aussie and changed my phone number. I was done with Verizon.

Up until a few weeks ago. I was lonely and drunk (sensing a pattern here) and text him happy birthday, even though his birthday was a few days before. We are now in the throws of another text messaging affair. I haven't told my friends that I've started conversing with him again. They'd kill me. He knows this and teases me about it. He actually has started hinting that he wants to come visit me. I'm supposed to pick out a four or five star hotel and we're going to hole ourselves up in one for a weekend. We'll see if that ever happens. Part of me would love to see him again, part of me hates myself for talking to him, and part of me just enjoys the attention. Oh how I love the attention sometimes...

You're so beautiful, it hurts to look at you

2007-12-01T15:50:00.000-08:00

I was in seventh grade when Jordan Catalano first came into my life. He was the ultimate crush. Bright blue eyes, quiet, with an intense mystery surrounding him. I hated him for how he treated Angela, but loved him because he was misunderstood (and also because he's hot).

My So-Called Life is so going on my Christmas list. Curse you ABC for taking the show away too soon!

P.S.- The pilot is playing for free on the ABC website.

My Prayers Have Been Answered!

2007-12-01T15:23:00.000-08:00

Thank you Hair Gods! You have given me Holly, a vibrant bohemian curly-haired hair stylist that actually...(wait for it)... knows how to cut curly hair!!! I look good. Definitely heading out and painting the town red tonight.

Well... maybe. Even in sweats, I'll still look good.

Booty Call

2007-12-01T10:23:00.000-08:00

JT called me last night. We've been texting all night... um, flirty text messages. I went out earlier with High School Princess to go to our favorite burger place 'cause we both have been craving their famous sweet potato fries. Yum. I could live off those forever. I also needed to apologize for my big mouth (more on that later).

Anyways, JT texted me right after I got off work and asked how my night went last night. I told him it was good, but I left early 'cause I'm old and I asked what he was up to tonight. He took awhile to text back because he was still at work, but said that he was going out and hopes that we could meet up tonight.

Now, my problem is that I wasn't exactly feeling "pretty" since my monthly visitor was in town. Plus, I also still live at home (man, I hate money and how expensive it is to live around here). So... being able to "hang out" with JT tonight was going to be tricky.

The first time JT made a move on me, I was not prepared. Like AT ALL. I seriously thought the guy only looked at me like a friend. It's so completely true when they say you never get lucky when you shave your legs, but boys always seem to flock to you when you feel like a wooly mammoth. Plus, that night my monthly visitor was in town.

Anyways, I did want to see JT last night, but I was already in bed 30 minutes away from his house and I wasn't feeling up to par when he rang last night. I think he was a little bit pissed, like I was leading him on or something. But, come on! I was so set to see him last weekend when I was all horny and freshly shaven, but he had to work.

Freaking boys...

A Quick Prayer to the Hair Gods

2007-11-30T23:26:00.000-08:00

Please Curly Hair Gods. Tomorrow is my first day with a new hairdresser. Please be on my side this time. Make my hair bounce with beautiful curls. Let the hairdresser listen to my needs and actually try to follow them, instead of doing her own thing. I beg of you, don't let her hack off my hair so then my hair starts looking like one big triangle. I've tried being (somewhat) good this year. I don't believe in Santa Claus anymore, but I do believe in hair karma.

Slim Pickings

2007-11-30T16:48:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, the title of this blog stems from the feeling I've had from going out these past couple of months. I think I'm in something one might call a "dry spell." Actually, that's not true. I have had....er, "interactions" with guys recently (actually only one) but no butterflies. Man, I miss those suckers. The pickings have been slim.

Take, for example, when I went out to a bar a couple of weeks ago. I was already in a bad mood that day. My hair, normally curly, was pseudo-straight, meaning I had straighten it earlier, but Mother Nature was pmsing that night and decided to cry her eyes out non-stop for 4 hours. Thus, my hair was something in between a wavy and fro-ish. Not happy.

The bar wasn't too busy when we arrived. I immediately made my way to the bathroom to fix my hair monstrosity. I freshened up quickly in the bathroom and made my way back to my friends. I drove to the bar with The Cheerleader and she was already at the bar trying to order a drink. I saw out of the corner of my eye a group of four guys looking over at us.

"Ugh," I thought to myself. "You have got to be kidding me." Definitely not my type.

The guy next to the bar started talking up The Cheerleader while she waited for our drinks. His friend, I'll call Moron #1 tried to engage me in conversation.

"So, how's it going?"

"Fine," I replied.

After that opening, the conversation got fuzzy. Actually scratch that. His speech got fuzzy. Moron #1 kept trying to talk, but I just wasn't haven't it. I have no patience for drunken morons.

Then the unthinkable happened.

I was wearing my new shirt from Zara, a short-sleeve red empire waist shirt with a pretty flower sewn on over where my heart is. It was flowy and made my boobs look hot. Good enough for me.

As I'm avoiding eye contact with the tools next to me, Moron #1 leans down with his face practically touching my chest, bites then smells my flower, then proceeds to look me in the eye and says, "Mmmmmm, smells like breast."

Wow.

I didn't have a chance to react. You know when something starts happening to you you feel like it's going in slow motion? That's exactly what it felt like for me. I literally was looking down at this drunken idiot with his face in my chest thinking, "What.....the......f*#k?!"

The Cheerleader was having trouble getting the bartender's attention, so that's when she grabs my arm and pulls me towards the other end of the bar. I tell her what happened and her mouth falls open.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, I was just looking down at him not even able to comprehend what was happening."

"What a jerk."

"Aren't they all?"

"Too true," she said. We clinked our glasses. Cheers to that.