You Shy-a Devil You

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.

 

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

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.

Booty Call

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...

Slim Pickings

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.