Obvious Observations

Tales from the Dark Side: Thumbelina’s Seduction

I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather and, as such, spent the entire weekend in bed. While the sleep was awesome, it didn’t exactly lend itself to creative stories of my sordid adventures. (Unless we’re counting dreams, in which case I have a shit ton to talk about. Nyquil is the bomb y’all.) So today, I will be regaling you with a little gem from one of my partners in crime. We shall call her Thumbelina, because she is tiny and also because her other nickname (The Girl Who Throws Up) doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

It was a dark and chilly Saturday night when pint size Thumbelina decided to venture into the great unknown in search of a place to get her drink on. Living in Smalltown, USA, she quickly realized that her venue options were quite limited but remained undeterred. Strapping on her big girl heels, she made her way to the land of booze and promptly downed several vodka and Red Bulls. “Water is for little bitches,” she called to all within earshot.

Feeling warm and fuzzy, Thumbelina surveyed her surroundings and realized for the first time that this tiny bar had a tiny stage, on which a mediocre DJ was playing only the best in Top 40 mash-ups. Needing no further motivation, she grabbed the nearest thing with a penis and dragged it to the dance floor. As she began swaying to the intoxicating beat of that one Flo Rida song from 2003, little Thumbelina casually spared a glance at her unwitting dance partner. She giggled as recognition swarmed her brain. Why, it’s little Scottie! The youngest brother of her one time high school love interest!

Drunk and thoroughly entertained by this new information, Thumbelina continued her seduction of the naïve young boy. Powerless to resist her charms, it was only minutes before poor Scottie was falling over himself in an effort to entice the lovely Thumbelina to a rousing game of tonsil hockey. A sucker for a pretty face, Thumbelina obliged the poor boy with a kiss before ensnaring him once again in her dance of passion.

As the clock struck 2 am, Thumbelina thanked little Scottie for his company and promptly sent him scampering home to his twin bed and Superman sheets. Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered a bystander walking in her direction. That is, until this bystander casually informed her that her knight for the night was, in fact, named Jon.

Moral of the story, brothers look alike.

Image courtesy of: Natalie Dee

Weekly Rundown

                        

Natalie Portman is pregnant.
I am not. Woohoo! Beer me. (Socialitelife)

Jake Gyllenhaal and T Swift broke up.
Also known as: Their promotional tours ended. (E!)

A self proclaimed “pick up artist” shot a girl in the face when she rejected him.
She’s in critical condition and my belief that negging is for psychopaths is reaffirmed.(KTVZ)

I met two new guys who appear somewhat interesting.
More details to follow shortly.

I’m going to spend the weekend in bed in order to recover from last weekend and prepare for the next one. See y’all on Monday.

Image courtesy of: Photobucket

A Guy’s Girl

I’m feeling particularly exhausted today, which probably isn’t at all due to yesterday’s late night Guinness and trivia session. It did make for interesting conversation, though, when at some point during this impromptu venture into a tiny, unnamed pub I was referred to by a fellow patron as a “guy’s girl.” While I’m not entirely sure what this means, I’m fairly certain it has something to do with the fact that I was drinking a beer and not something pink with an umbrella in it. So I began to wonder, what attributes does a woman have to possess in order to fall into this category? Some of the replies that I got….

She likes sports
OK, this makes sense. Guys like to sit around and shriek obnoxious things at big screen TVs while people run back and forth across the screen. I have a similar reaction to The Bachelor, so I understand the urge. But please do not misconstrue my loathing of Kobe Bryant into an all encompassing knowledge of the NBA, because you will be incredibly disappointed.

She doesn’t count every single calorie
Hey, I love beer and fried anything as much as the next chick on a bar stool, but I also don’t like to exercise. Like, at all. So when I eat a salad on occasion, I don’t want to hear any bitching about how I’m “one of those girls,” especially if he’s “one of those guys” who gets upset the instant his girlfriend puts on a pound or two.

She doesn’t have to dress up to go to a bar
I’ll be honest, I’m all for guys liking this kind of thing. Dressing up for a night out is fun every once in a while, but most days I’m going to be rocking a worn in t-shirt and a pair of reasonably comfortable jeans. Heels suck if you’re going to be standing for any length of time and my ass looks perfectly fine in flats, thankyouverymuch.

Boobs
Obviously.

So there you have it. Guys want beer, sports, and a laid back girl (with boobs) who can hang with the guys. This is why no one ever made a movie called What Men Want.

Image courtesy of: Natalie Dee

The Dreaded Ex

                                             

We’ve all been there. You go through a rough break up with someone you’re probably not entirely over because he has great hair or rockin pecs or a huge…. DVD collection. Whatever the case may be, you inevitably end things with the hopes that you will never, under any circumstances, encounter this person in a public setting again. And then fate decides to step in and be a spiteful bitch. So what exactly do you say to the person who stomped on your heart and instigated a month long tequila and ice cream binge when you’re caught unprepared? Some ideas….

1. Fuck you.
2. Glad to see you could stop staring in the mirror long enough to get some fresh air.
3. How’s your brother? I haven’t seen him since…. Oh. Never mind.
4. You still living with your mom?
5. Fuck you.
6. Did that infection ever clear up? (Works best if he’s with another girl)
7. I see you’re still working at Chili’s. That’s….awesome.
8. You got fat.
9. I’m a supermodel now.
10. I hope you burn to a crisp in the fiery depths of your own personal hell. One where hair gel and Xboxes and Jagermeister will never be invented. And also, fuck you.

Pickup Fail

                              

I was hanging out with my lady friends the other night when one of them mentioned that she had recently met a guy at a bar who proceeded to insult her repeatedly within minutes of introducing himself. Adding to the confusion, he called her for several days after and very clearly stated his interest in taking her out. After tossing a few ideas back and forth, we deduced that he was using the asinine method of negging. For those of you who don’t know, negging is the process of stating any number of low-grade insults meant to undermine the self confidence of a woman so that she may become more vulnerable to one’s advances. This method is generally only practiced by complete asshats.

Now what this douchelord failed to take into account is that my friend is not only super cute, but has a personality that’s, like, seven different kinds of awesome. She is never hurting for a date and, as such, wouldn’t waste a modicum of thought on someone who thinks that the way into a girl’s pants is to tell her she looks a little fat in them.

What gives guys? Some idiot tells you he gets loads of chicks, and orgies, and rainbow scented unicorns by using this “method” so you decide it’s worth a shot? I’m going to go ahead and call bullshit on this one, and add that if you’re resorting to this type of advice in order to meet women, perhaps you’re the one with the wavering self confidence. It’s time to man up, grow a pair, and treat women with the respect they deserve. Otherwise, we’ll spot your dumbass from a mile away. And totally tell your mommy on you.

Image courtesy of: Kinnarimehta17.blogspot.com

My New Year’s Resolution

  

I don’t typically partake in the whole New Year’s resolution thing, but a fantastic idea presented itself on Saturday morning over blueberry pancakes and I’d be remiss not to share it. You see, I’ve always wanted to get involved with some sort of charitable cause but have never been quite sure of where to direct my efforts. Deciding it’s best to stick with what I know, I believe I have found the answer.

I would like to introduce you to The Douche Rehabilitation Center.

Douchey behavior has been an ongoing issue for years but has only recently gained widespread recognition amongst the dating community. Varying in levels of severity, its symptoms include popped collars, mass consumption of Bud Light and excessive use of the word bro (or its lesser known equivalent, brah). It is highly contagious and anyone suspected of carrying the disease should be approached with extreme caution.

The Douche Rehabilitation Center aims to increase awareness of douchey behavior while simultaneously working to develop a cure. We believe that those in the early stages stand the best chance of a full recovery but do recognize that some cases will be beyond our reach. In these terminal instances, we will do our best to make the patient as comfortable as possible by providing Duke football reruns on a continuous loop and offering our in house hospice care of fraternity alumni.

If you or someone you know is suspected of carrying the douche disease, please contact the center at once. If you’re at all unsure, please send a photo of the douche in question and I will provide my expert opinion, free of charge.

Best of luck and remember: Together we can rid the Earth of douches once and for all!

Image courtesy of: Collegehumor.com

Weekly Rundown: New Year’s Eve Edition

                              

In today’s breaking news…

I have a hangover
And people are coming over to my house in 4 hours to get ready for New Year’s. No good can come from this. 

Called it quits with the boy from Wednesday’s post after four dates
This makes it the second longest relationship I’ve had all year. The “breakup” involved laying in bed until 2 pm looking at old photos from our mutual high school and good naturedly calling each other an asshole. 

And now I’m date free for New Year’s
Not familiar territory for me. What exactly do you do at midnight when you don’t have anyone to make out with? Molest a stranger? Take a shot? Either way, it’ll probably be better than last year when my date took a hockey puck to the face…

Other shit happened
There was other news this week, but I’m too lazy to look it up. It took me an hour to write this. 

Image courtesy of: Stupid.com

How To: Have a Pre-New Year’s Celebration

                                

New Year’s Eve is tomorrow and that means for most of us lucky SOB’s, the weekend begins today. And since you’ve basically been given a free pass for a Friday morning hangover, there is absolutely nothing stopping you from partaking in the fine art of boozing it up. So gather up your besties, pile everybody into a cab (no DUI’s please!), and execute this well thought out plan for a night of fun.

Step 1
Arrive at bar of choice. Commandeer a table asap, as walking will quickly become precarious.

Step 2
Pick your poison. If beer is your thing, go for it. If liquor is more your speed, opt for the hard stuff. But whatever you choose, stick with it! Following that glass of wine with two beers and seven shots of tequila is only going to earn you an early night and a smelly stain on your shoes. Ew.

Step 3
Feel warm and fuzzy. Begin hugging everyone in sight and then awkwardly forget to release them within an appropriate amount of time.

Step 4
More drinks. Spot jukebox in corner of bar. Queue up Don’t Stop Believin’ and proceed to sing as loudly as possible. Put arm around person next to you and tell them how much you love them. Extra points if you’ve never met before tonight.

Step 5
Forget step 2 entirely and order a conflicting beverage. Yay shots!

Step 6
Realize you are at that perfect level of drunk in which you are still functional and coherent, but possess approximately zero inhibitions.

Step 7
Find attractive person you can make poor decisions with. Proceed to try and suck their soul out through their mouth.

Step 8
Forget to pay tab and head to the home of your friend who lives closest to the bar. Bringing the attractive person along for sexy times is optional.

Step 9
Chug two glasses of water while force feeding yourself slices of bread because it will TOTALLY prevent the onset of a hangover. Pass out.

Step 10
Wake up way too early in the morning. Admire the way your mascara has managed to make its way to your chin. Smooth out hair, put on heels, and take the stride of pride back to your own home. Try to feel ashamed and fail because You. Are. Awesome.

Image courtesy of: Images.paraorkut.com

A Dating Dilemma

  

You know that feeling you get when you first start seeing someone that you actually like? The one where your stomach feels all fluttery and your breathing gets weird and you begin to seriously question whether or not you might be having a heart attack? Yeah, I hate it. I know there are people out there who relish this stage of a relationship but I honestly cannot think of a feeling I like less. I would rather have a roadside bikini wax from a circus midget than deal with this shit.

I don’t get it. I am a confident, independent, (mostly) well adjusted young woman with a full time job and a well stocked liquor cabinet. So when did I turn into a self conscious 12 year old with an obsession for staring at the screen of my Blackberry? Lamesauce, my friends. I refuse to perpetuate this nonsense simply because my hormones decided to play Russian roulette with my sanity. Oxytocin, you are the devil.

I mean, sure, he’s gorgeous. And funny. And has bed head that I’m ridiculously jealous of.  But none of this matters if I scare him away by acting like I, you know, LIKE HIM or something. I have to be all nonchalant and noncommittal and other words that begin with non.

So what’s a girl to do? I think I will take the advice of the wise Cher Horowitz and strut around him in my cutest outfits and send myself flowers and candy so that he can see how desirable I am. And when all else fails, show a little skin.

Apparently there’s something in the water… Check out the frenemy and the chic in your geek for more angsty boy issues.

Image Courtesy of: Natalie Dee

Home for the Holidays

   

In some random movie I watched over the weekend I heard an actor say the line, “You can’t go home again”. I initially found this to be confusing because, you know, free will still exists and the government doesn’t often make a habit of exiling people anymore. But after spending several days in my hometown for the holidays I’ve found it is actually an uncannily accurate statement because….

Running into ex boyfriends is weird
I don’t know about you, but I went through a phase in college where I liked to pick up waiters at various restaurants I frequented. It was a fun little game that involved lots of awkward eye contact and food related euphemisms and typically culminated in free dessert and a phone number left on a receipt. Well, unfortunately I bore easily and none of these fine gentlemen managed to hold my attention for long. I never realized the implications of this issue until my friends and I were trying to decide on a place to meet up for dinner and drinks and I realized that I had dated someone at nearly every available venue. Ashamed to fess up to my slutty college behavior but unwilling to subject myself to food poisoning, we opted for a house party.

Running into people from high school is also weird
There’s this period of time immediately after high school when you begin to find out all the awful things that people did to you without your knowledge. For instance, that skinny bitch I hung out with every Friday night only to find out that she was banging my boyfriend every Saturday. (Hi Maggie!) Unfortunately the holidays have a tendency to bring together all of these people that you hoped you would never see again, thereby forcing you into awkward situations where you’re torn between ignoring their existence and punching them in the face.

You will suffer from a perpetual hangover
My vacation lasted ten days. I was drunk for eight of them. Now that I’m back at work, I’m not quite sure what to make of this whole “feeling coherent and not at all nauseated” thing.

You will need a vacation to recover from your vacation
Returning home for the holidays is a great opportunity to hang out with friends that you actually enjoy being around. And because it’s a rare opportunity, you’ll forgo silly things like sleep and food in order to make time for boozing it up like you’re sixteen again. It’s sort of like being in Vegas but, instead of luxury hotels and casinos, you have two bars and a strip club.

Image courtesy of: Explosm.net