I'm Irritated.

So hear me bitch. (Don't worry, I'm really good at this). I mean, we all have these moods right? I may, more frequently than others, but its just one of those built up moments where I need to explode. And rather than taking it out on stray cats and small screaming children, I'll post a blog. Yay.  So here goes my list: 

• I'm irritated about sucky boys.  How they storm into our lives like Hurricane Katrinas and think they can take over, because most of the time they can't but every once in a while one of those suckers comes blowing in at 145 mph winds and totally gives us no choice except to love the chaos that they bring with them.  I speak for my friend (Crazy) at the moment because nobody should have to engage in retail therapy for boys...ever. And don't you forget it. 

• I'm irritated about all the people on the damn metro. Yes. Every single one of them.  They push you out of the way, the stand the fuck up before the train stops while frantically yelling "Excuse me! Excuse Me!"  Yes fucker, I hear you.  I apologize for the million people crowded around me and that I can't move anywhere to get out of your way.  I mean, seriously.  Calm the fuck down.  Just calm the fuck down.  You're going to get off the train just fine.  Nobody's going to leave you on the metro bus. Somebody will allow you to squeeze your fat ass off the train so you can run like a raging idiot to your next train and realize that it doesn't arrive for 4 minutes yet.  Your Welcome for making my life miserable for about 30 seconds while I have to listen to you and while you shove your nasty sweaty armpits in my face.  Also, you're not that important.  Nobody cares if your 4 minutes late to work.  If you're that worried, wake up earlier. Dumbass. 
  

• I'm irritated that I have to listen to my coworkers and the news talk about Sara Stripper Palin and John McCain and Barrack Obama.  They all suck.  I don't want to hear anything else about them.  Nobody is going to fix the economy, nobody is going to get us out of Iraq, nobody is going to make the United States a better place to live.  All politicans suck.  They are greedy bastards and there is nothing we can do about it, and no I will not vote, so quit getting in my face about it.  I don't like either candidate, why would I try to help one win.  I don't really care.  So please close your newspaper, and kindly shut the fuck up.  

• I'm irritated that I have finally come to terms with an actual Bridezilla, Ladies and Gentlemen: Meet my sister.   I mean, really?  I would much rather buy and iPhone than a $305 YELLOW bridesmaid dress.  Oh, pardon me, the color is "Maize". You  know, that color in the crayon box that was always confusing because I mean, Maize is clearly not yellow. Oh, but she's being so lax.  We can all pick the style of dress that we want, but if we don't all wear the same one, we all have to wear different ones.  We have 5 styles to pick from...and wait, there are 5 bridesmaids.  That means, somebody is going to get stuck with the ugly one.  Can I just wear my iPhone please?  OH but we can pick our own shoes.  As long as they are "bronzy gold".  How nice.  I see tons of "bronzy gold" shoes all over the place.  How will I ever choose. I'm sure bronzy gold shoes will be less than $100 also, since there are so many to choose from.  Bronzy gold...I don't even know what that means. 

Okay, I have to stop because now this is depressing me.  I have funny stories to tell when I'm not in such a horrible mood.  So um, I'm going to straighten my act up and I'll be back.

Let me tell you how insanely awesome I am...

So lets get this straight. Girl hates job. Girl gets hired at magical company where she's wanted to work for years since she has come to terms with the fact that she will never be a doctor because she's too lazy and annoyed to go through another 4, 6, 8 (however long it takes) years of school to do so. Girl loves new job. Girl finally fits in with fabulous coworkers. Girl goes to WORK happy hour and gets wasted and makes a raging idiot out of herself. Girl...wait? Repeat that last statement again?

Ohhh yes, that would be correct. "Dre," you ask, "did you really get wasted at a work happy hour and attempt to fraternize with the executives and make a wonderful display of your ability to slur your speech and be oh so successful at the attempt?" Yes, yes I did.

"Not only that," I say, "but I also attempted to throw 3 shots of God knows what at the Happy Hour down my thirsty little throat, 3 Vodka Tonics and THEN i went to another bar, with my manager among other people, and had 3 Saki bombs, 2 shots of Saki, and then went to ANOTHER bar and had something else...I can't remember what at the moment but I know it wasn't water. OH, I forgot to mention, I had 2 Magic Hat drafts before the Vodka Tonics. I threw all this fabulous liquor into my 110 lb body (poor thing) and 1 tiny piece of pizza from matchbox."

"Wow, Dre. Thats pretty poor taste on your part. How utterly lame you are."
"Oh wait," I admit. "There's more. So, the story goes. I hop in a cab with my manager and Miss Piggy and for some god awful reason, tell them to drop me off in Rosslyn. Why do this? Because I am a raging raging idiot perhaps? Who knows what goes through this brilliant head of mine at times. I am convinced I can walk home from there, a good 2.6 miles I am sure, however; the issue at hand is that I can't even walk. So I stumble around the streets for at least an hour, totally lost, when this beautiful ringing to my ears interrupts my drunken stupor. Is it Angels from heaven coming down to swoop me away? Close enough, it is my manager, checking in to see if I am okay. No, I tell him, I am lost on a highway and I don't know how to get home. Lovely manager picks my drunk ass up somewhere along Highway 50 and takes me home. Awesome. But wait, there is more. Somehow I manage to climb the 3 flights of stairs up to my glorious bed and finally pass out when...oh god. My alarm clock goes off. I have to get up again. Mind you, it is 8:30 am. I usually leave for work at 8:00 to get there on time. I am wasted. I have never felt so awful in my entire life. I would rather my skin get chewed off by ravaging dogs then feel this churning in my stomach. Breath Dre, Breath. As I stumble to the metro, I eat a 100 calorie pack of pretty orange goldfish, how tasty. I am ridiculously late. First metro train comes, I squeeze myself into the massive crowds of people and immediately begin to have a mini-panic attack. I am getting cold sweats, I probably reek of alcohol, I'm pretty sure people are looking at me funny but I am too nauseous to care. My mouth starts watering, and Oh God. Breath. Breath. The train comes to a stop, thank god. I literally shove women and small children out of the way and make a beeline for the platform. I run down as far away from people as possible and ever-so-elegantly vomit all over the platform. Wonderful chunks of yellow goldfish add a beautiful splash of color to my gray pants. Man asks if I need help. Thank you sir, but I am a raging idiot and just need to sit here for a few minutes. It is 7:30 at night as I am writing this right now. Let me speed through the end of this god awful story because I think I am going to get sick again. I somehow manage to make it to work. Stay for about 2 hours. I throw up twice in those 2 hours, I was throwing up water. Yea, I can't even keep water down. I go home. Vomit again, this time at the Foggy Bottom Metro stop. I am a strong believer in marking my territory. "

"Wow Dre, you should really think about killing yourself."
"Yes, Yes I will do that. Thanks."

And now, here I lie, in bed. Lame as ever. And I am going to go throw up now. Peace lovers.

Unattainable Is the New Black

So, I'm pretty sure I have major issues, if anybody hasn't figured that out already. I mean, seriously...maybe its my strong desire to not to be in a relationship that I am unaware of? I have no idea. I've met a lot of great guys since I've been down here in DC. A LOT. These are great, (some very) attractive , successful, intelligent, worthy guys that I have met. Yet, none good enough. Why? You may ask. My simple answer...they're easy. They adore me. And for some odd reason, I have an issue with this. Everytime I am with them, my mind lingers back to two very different, yet very unattainable (for very different reasons) guys. EVERYTIME. Seriously, it could be the most frustrating thing ever. I don't even want to have sex with these guys that adore me, I don't. I could, but I don't want to...no, no, not Dre. She would rather masturbate to the idea of the unattainable ones. Okay, unattainable one. The other one hasn't even reached that point yet, but that is neither here nor there. Why can't I just be normal...like girls who would cream of the idea of guys falling all over them, the same idea that makes me want to projectile vomit all over my laptop as I furiously type this disturbing idea.

Re-Inventing the Ritual...

So, in honor of myself moving back to D.C. (I knew I'd be back one day), I've decided to dig up my old blog grave, and attempt once again, to dedicate myself to keeping a somewhat daily journal of the ever-so-exciting events of my life. For the few of those who actually read this, and did not know me when I lived in D.C. the first time, let me back up for a quick second and clear the water for you:

My roommate and I, when I lived in D.C. back in 2005, kept a daily journal of ourselves and the trouble we got into. I unfortunately, put that blog to rest, never to be found again, which I seriously regret because it was actually hilarious.

I am now returning, and determined to entertain myself and anybody else who desires to read this. For now, I will keep this at an introduction, stay tuned...