Thursday, May 17, 2012

How To Not Handle A Break-Up


I haven’t had very many real romantic relationships because 1. I didn’t have friends until I was 16 and 2. I don’t like people very much. I almost got kicked off the speech team my sophomore year because of how much I said I disliked everyone. Sometimes my dad will ask, “Did you get beat up yet?” because he’s seen how I behave towards slow drivers and front butts. Anyway, seeing as it has been nearly a year since I broke up with my ex, I think now is an appropriate time to write about it. “You know I'm not goin' diss you on the internet,” said Destiny’s Child and I’m not going to “diss” him either. I’m just going to factually state everything that happened from my perspective which is the correct and only true perspective.

                First of all, let me break it down for all y’all what happened exactly. We dated for four months when I was living in Mankato and then I moved to DISNEY WORLD where dreams come true (sung in a sing song voice). He came to visit me once but then he cheated on me so we broke up blah blah blah. He also told me that was happening over a text message. Has he seen the Kelly video Text Message Break Up?! It came out in high school and everyone was watching it! There was a dancing storm trooper in it, how do you forget that!? Ugh, I’m writing this on campus and something here keeps making my ears vibrate.



               Well, I did not handle this separation very well. I handled it like a mother who’s baby is diagnosed with SBS. My baby just kept on a shakin’ all over the place and I kept trying to hold it still! That’s how SBS works, right? Different analogy. I handled it like a 6 year old rapist. That six year old just wanted to kiss someone and no one would let him so he would have to trap them inside of the twirly slide and they just wouldn’t sit still so he had to handle them! … Someone needs to put me down.

So I Googled “How to deal with a break-up” (like any other person would) and I found good ol’ WikiHow’s How To Get Over A Break-Up. There are 14 steps and I failed 10 of them.

1.    Think through everything thoroughly but not obsessively. Welp. I had nothing to do but obsess because I was working in the Speech office where all I do is sit on Facebook all day and every so often answer the phone and make copies. As I was obsessing, I found this AMAZING website. http://www.getrevengeonyourex.com/ It’s phenomenal. The best service is that the website will call your ex as many times as you want and say what you tell them to and of course, it’s completely anonymous. I never did anything on this website because I took the effing high road but it sure is a sneaky temptress.

2.    Don’t rethink your decision. I rethought my decision to slash his tires but instead I commented on a picture of us on Facebook- “I completely forgot about this picture. It’s so weird to think that I was standing next to people that in the future I would hope would die in a terrible fire.” The best part was that three people “like” it so I felt justified.

3.    Keep your space. I did this one okay because I spent most of my time lying naked around my house watching Grey’s Anatomy.

4.    Cope with the pain appropriately. Is anything I do appropriate?

5.    Deal with the hate phase. I think that I’m dealing with it right now. I think I also dealt with it when I told anyone I knew to go to Caribou (where he works) and throw hot coffee in his face. Okay that would not be as funny if someone actually did it BUT I did find out that Caribou flooded and there was shitty water all over the floor so that made me feel better. I also saw him the other day (which was awful) but I saw that he gained some weight (which was awesome)!

6.    Talk to your friends. Friends? Oh right. My speech friends moved away and Stupid Head’s friends decided not to tell me that he was seeing someone else who looked just like Todd Flanders but with Down Syndrome.


      My friends consisted of The Real Housewives and the drunken people that walk by my house at two in the morning. Don’t worry though. I found out that Todd graduated last year and he’s sticking around Mankato to date a douchebag so I talked about that with some of the drunkards and felt way better.

7.    Write all your feelings down. Blog time, baby! I got one!

8.    Make a list of reminders. I did actually! The two best ones are, His breath smells like sour milk and, He’s not nearly as good looking as you. Thanks for the reminder, depressed me! Your correct!

9.    Out with the old, in with the new. This means cleaning. I’m not super about cleaning especially when my apartment is just so messy. But it wasn’t even that bad! Four bags of Jimmy John’s orders and a dozen Starbucks cups lying around doesn’t mean anything!

10.  Remove memory triggers. Okay. I blocked him on Facebook pretty quickly but then I had a moment of weakness one day. I looked up his Twitter and the bastard’s profile picture was of us at DISNEY WORLD where dreams come true sometimes (you were a little off key that time) and I’m CROPPED OUT! SEE?!





      I had a friend look at this to make sure that I wasn’t crossing this imaginary line that I everyone seems to know about and she said that posting photos of actual pictures of him made her feel uncomfortable like she was watching The Break-Up or a mentally challenged person waiting for the sign to say “walk” when everyone else knows that the light won’t turn unless you hit the button. So I gave him a new face that I like better. But then she said that the caption for the edited photo should say, “I’m feeling self conscious about myself, please like my sexy photo.” Which is hilarious because I don’t need to take pictures of myself to make me feel better. I’ll eat a pizza, instead, okay.

11.   Find happiness in other areas of your life. Does Ice Hole count?

12.   Stay active. Does going to the store to buy a bag of Skittles for lunch count?

13.   Let go of the negative emotions. … Okay. (Clearly I need to work on this one).

14.   Remind yourself of the negative things. I can do this one! I can do this one! Um… I started typing all of the negative things about him and then I just saw on WikiHow that I’m actually not supposed to do that. So. 

                     What can we learn from WikiHow and my break up with Stupid Head? (Besides the fact that people are going to read this and think that I’m a crazy person and I’ll never get a date ever again). We can learn that I am stronger like Britney or Kanye or Kelly or any other artist who has nothing original to sing about. I saw this meme the other day that said, “It is better to have loved and lost than to be with a douche bag for the rest of your life. Valid. Also. I found a Teletubby on the black market for only two grand. It’ll follow me wherever I go so I can watch Avatar on its tummy anytime I want. Suck it. 

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Letters For My Coaches 4


Laura is super awesome and she came back to school to get her undergrad and her masters when she was, like, 40. She likes guns, motorcycles, and being amazing. 

Laura,

Your ability to be the team mom is comparable to MTV’s teen moms.

Your beauty defies your age like an ill mannered step child.

Your bad-assness is more hardcore than Obama with a pinky ring and a neck tattoo.

Your fixation with guns is similar to Gabby Giffords. She just can’t stop talking about them.

Your magic purse of goodies is only slightly more awesome than your other magic purse of goodies.

Your return to and excellence in academia is more remarkable than an uninfected Prince Albert.

Your capacity to love is only outmatched by a hoarder’s capacity to love flattened cats and “treasures.”

Your husband is more supportive than the Pope for all his priests with a “younger” taste.

You’re loved. Like teenagers love texting and driving so much, they will drive to the death for those messages. Like Timothy McVeigh loved the FBI so much, he set fireworks off in their honor. Like BP loved the Gulf so much that it penetrated that Gulf and then lubed it up. You’re loved. And your love will continue to stretch like the marks on an underprivileged obese child with a “thyroid problem.


Hearts,


Brad


What can we learn from these letters? That I'm a sick person for creating such similes? Nope. More like... fuck it. I couldn't even type that out. I'm seriously messed up.

Letters For My Coaches 3

Ben is married but I like to give him a hard time and say that he's gay. Why? Oh because it's hilarious. He can sit down and accomplish anything whereas I sit on Perez for an hour and then take a nap. 

Ben,

Your organization is more anal retentive than you are anal receptive.

Your jeans may be from Penny’s but your wife certainly wears them in this relationship.

Your masculinity is only outweighed by your femininity.

Your care and love are like the sex scene in Ghost. We have the clay but we need your guidance to create something beautiful… and to orgasm.

Your ability to make first years feel welcome is stronger than any Kool-aid.

Your listening skills are like that of a quadriplegic. When we talk to you, we know that you’re not going anywhere and we appreciate that.

Your ability to go the extra mile is like that of a true American. You know that you’ve won the war but you’ll bomb two Japanese cities just for good measure.

Your persistence is like that of the last person in line on a human centipede… I’ll leave it at that.
Your drive is like that of a chronic masturbator. It doesn’t matter where you are because you will always find a way to completion.

You’re loved. Like Mary loved her virginity so much, she lied about it. Like Abraham Lincoln loved plays so much, he lost his head. Like Dianna loved the paparazzi so much, she got a little too excited when she pulled over to say “hi” to them. You’re loved. And your love will continue to spread like a cocaine ridden girl’s legs at an independent music festival.


Hearts,


Brad

Letters For My Coaches 2

Alyssa is incredible. Girl has better style than everyone in Mankato combined. She's also very quick witted which is important to me in a friend. She also loves her cat.



Alyssa,

Your duo blocking is more shocking than a knifey dildo.

Your pop culture knowledge is only trumped by your Sperry’s

Your ties are borrowed more than prostitutes borrowed on Christmas.

Your hair indicates your sexuality more than the broken chromosome that made you that way.

Your wit is quicker than the length of time people cared about Darfur.

Your aura is as electrifying as fucking a Pikachu. It’s super effective!

Your personality is explosive… like the Challenger.

Your future is like the World Trade Center. Things might fall apart but a bigger, better World Trade Center will always be built in its place.

You’re loved. Like Ukraine loves carnies so much they blew up a reactor to create a whole generation of them. Like Jesus loved the world so much, he died and left. Like John F. Kennedy loved parades so much, he celebrated by taking three or four shots. You’re loved. And your love will carry on in our hearts like those little worms will in over 2.7 million puppies this year.


Hearts,


Brad

Letters For My Coaches 1

     So I was on the speech team but now I’m done and so are four of my coaches. They’re all grad students that work in the department and they invested a lot of work into me. I’m convinced that I normally talk like the “boom goes the dynamite” guy unless I have a coach beat the shit out of me. I’ve had the pleasure to get to know them all and so I wrote them really nice end of the year letters:) 


DISCLAIMER- These next few post are probably the most offensive I've ever written.


We'll start with Justin. Justin is stuck in the 90's but not like in a Portlandia way but in a gay *Nsync way. 



Justin,

Your crazy smile is crazy awesome.

Your shirts are only barely brighter than your soul.

Your talent is only preceded only by your flip flops.

Your soul patch burrows itself beneath your lip like your love burrows in our souls.

Your finely manicured nails represent your finely manicured thesis.

Your new job will be like bottoming: At first it hurts and you feel like you might die but after a while, it feels great.

Your organizational skills are like your hair: Each stiff piece meticulously locked in place and shiny.

Your work ethic is like a Chinese sweat shop worker. It doesn't feel like people appreciate your work but somewhere an Olympian is running across the finish line with the shoes you made for only 46 cents an hour.

You’re loved. Like Amelia loved the Pacific so much, she crashed and drowned in it. Like Jeffery Dahmer loved people so much, he ate them. Like, the tsunami loved Japan so much it gave it a big hug. You’re loved. And your love and skills and education will carry with us like HPV. The symptoms might go away but the virus will be with us forever.


Hearts,


Brad