Nerd Alert

I sort of look like an AIDsy, Zac Efron. You know, I’m really good looking but I’m so thin and frail typing on my little computer on the floor with only the seven empty wine glasses placed variously around to keep me company. But in a cute way. I’m also a huge nerd. I used to watch Star Wars, The Matrix, and Charlie’s Angel’s every day of my life. I don’t know WHAT my parents thought of me.

The thing about being a nerd is you want everyone else to revel in your nerd-dom with you. For example, I tried for years to get my best friend, Megan, to watch X-Men, LOTR, Star Trek, etc. Then, she meets this guy and she’s all like, “Matthew wants to see Iron Man 3 when I see him next weekend! Can we watch the first two!? Stop drinking my wine.” And of course I want to watch them with her but I secretly resent that it took a straight guy (who she’s in love with and he’s in love with her and blah blah blah) to do it. I mean, I guess my nerd points don’t count as much because I don’t cuddle with her while Jigsaw tortures people and he does. So.

So now that she’s riding the nerd train (pun intended) we watched Lord of the Rings. I really wished that I would have thought to record her because she sobbed. SOBBED when Gandalf died in Fellowship. I think the only time I’ve ever seen her that sad was when I told her to stop chewing with her mouth open and she ate the rest of her dinner crying by herself at the kitchen table. The good news is, I did have the foresight to film her when Gandalf came back!

She had no idea I was filming her.

I clearly watch a lot of movies and TV I don’t have cable or internet so every time I want to watch Game of Thrones I have to go to use Starbucks internet. This is stupid because Game of Thrones is the best show of all time but it has more naked people than The Buckle has douche customers. I’ll be trying to watch my favorite show and then some person will walk by or sit right behind me just as the naked people start to get naked. And I’m like, “Damn, kitty. Can’t a little gay boy illegally watch naked people at Starbucks?”

I also like to pretend that the characters in the movies that I watch have altered states of reality. Like, how funny would it be if Spider-man was actually a huge pot head? He smokes a fat bowl and then his spider sense goes off and he’s like, “Ok. Get up from the couch right now and go fight bad guys. On the count of three, stand up. Ok, after the Magic Bullet infomercial is over, count to three and stand up. Where are my chips?”

One time I had every single Harry Potter LEGO set available and I connected all of them together to create Mega-Hogwarts and I thought I was the coolest person on earth but then I accidentally knocked it over and I cried.

Gay: I have a boyfriend. Gay: I have Grindr. Nerd: I don’t need my Grindr anymore so I decided to create a new profile!

I had some great conversations but these were the best.  The first one was with a guy we’ll call “Green Dot.”

  

  

                So then I talked to Jimmy!

                  Jeff was hilarious. 

 

                 And then this guy made me laugh the most. He sincerely thought that he could still procure a hookup from a guy with a Voldemort profile. 

What can we learn from being a gay nerd? If anything, you will be able to hold a Grindr conversation for more than at least five minutes. I CAN NOT WAIT TO SEE PACIFIC RIMJOB!

Just About How Funny and Clever I Am

                 I’ve written about college speech before but I finally just got a video of my speech at Nationals! I got third place but it really felt like first because I didn’t poop myself (I had done that twice already that week from nerves) and I didn’t go crazy. Sometimes when I’m in front of a bunch of people who let me talk for a long time, I go crazy and start telling my favorite necrophilia jokes or my best black joke. And then after that happens people don’t think I’m as funny anymore because they’re “best friend is a necrophiliac” or they’re “black” and then they get “angry” and then I have to be “sorry.”

                Also, I wrote this speech in January 2012 with a pretty funny Dick Clark joke. Then, Dick Clark died on the first day of the tournament. The same day, I got a horrible text from this guy who I used to be in love with that made me more anxious than a pigmy horse surrounded by seven regular sized, drunk horses.

Pigmy horse: Hey guys, let’s be cool. Let’s be cool.

Drunk horse #1: Look at his tiny legs! I- I bet we can fit him in my little sister’s dress up clothes!

                The people sitting at the table in the middle of the room are the judges. The kid with the gay voice talking about gay things is me. Lalalalala here’s a third place speech. 

             

U Stoopid

                 I like to think that I’m a smart person. I’m not. I create these imaginary scenarios in my head where I think that everything will just work out. Like just last December I was like, “I want to be home for Christmas so I’ll just quit my job and drive across the country and it’ll be fine.” So my friend, Nelly and I decided to do just that. And everything was fine except that my credit card declined in Tennessee and we stayed at Motel Ratchet with axe murderers on the loose.

 Or later on the drive when I was writing checks to pay for my gas and beef jerky, I would say to myself, “Oh. I had to prepay $30 for this gas but only $26 will fit in my tank. I’ll just squeeze the rest into my car.” Gasalloverme.

                My best friends from Disney were Nelly, Airielle, and Jen. Jen is one of THE MEANEST people I’ve ever met. She’s seems all nice and sweet and then when your metaphorically dressed like you’re asking for it, she pounces with her words and is all, “Whaaat? I’m not mean. But fo real doe, Brad, you look like a hunchback.” And she doesn’t let you get away with anything. The second you make a mistake Jen pops up like some horrible, Hispanic leprechaun to inform you that, “You stupid. No but seriously doe, you duuumb.” So the other day when the stove caught on fire and I said to myself, “What a great photo opportunity!” a little Jen in the back of my head scoffed, condescendingly poked my nose and said “Stoopid stoopid.”

                     Megan just watches the fire. I take a picture. 

                And I say to myself, “These jeans look so great on me. When is my credit card payment due? You don’t even have to worry about whether your boss wants to sleep with you.” Jen, “Brad, your butt looks good. You gotta ba-donk! Seriously doe, your butt is big."

       I just found out the other day that I had to file taxes. My parents and I were eating lunch and the conversation went something like this-

Me: Oh, so my taxes…

Dad: Yeah you gotta take care of those.

Me: I don’t know how. So maybe I’ll just skip them this year. I’m not going to get that much money back anyway.

Step-mom: You realize that the government isn’t a bank. You realize that you have to file your taxes. You realize that I didn’t give birth to you so your idiocy has no reflection upon me or my wicked plot to rule the kingdom.

By that last part I was checked out and trying to figure out how to use my chopsticks in a way that accentuated my slender Ethiopian arms.

                So I say to myself, “Nobody will notice this zit. Everything about me is stunning and radiant.” Jen says, “Whoa, Brad is that a huge zit on your face? You need to take care of that. No fo real doe. That thing’s gigantic.”

                 One time I went to Barnes and Noble and the wind caught the door of my car and it totally busted up the door of the car next to mine. So I call my dad and he tells me to go inside and ask one of the employees to announce the plate of the car over the intercom. Well that’s not the answer I wanted to hear so I called my mom and she goes, “Well did anybody see it?” And I said “no” so she told me to just park my car in a different spot and pretend it didn’t happen. So I do and I’m on my merry way just drinking a mocha in the café thinking, “Everybody wishes they could be me. I get away with everything. My hair is the best.” Then, my dad calls and asks what happened.

Me: Oh, hey, yeah. I talked to the people and they were totally cool with it. They were really nice and they totally didn’t care.

Dad: Brad, I am so proud of you. You did the right thing and it all worked out.

Me: Yep.

                Just a few days ago, I ran out of gas when I was only five miles outside of the city. I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW THAT HAPPENED! One minute I was like, “Ugh, why is this drive so long. I have plenty of gas. Only my right butt check hurts.” And the next minute I’m stranded with %6 battery left on my phone. So I pulled off onto the exit and decided to take a nap until someone called me back to come save me. Ten minutes later two cops and an ambulance showed up being like, “Are you dead?” And I was like, “No.” Apparently, someone drove by and was worried about me but not worried enough to stop and check themselves. Officer Dennis is nice enough to drive me home and on the drive I’m all, “See! You have the best luck! The police are awesome! You’re so lucky. Mwah. Love you.” But when I get back I realize that I had locked my keys in my car.

So once I say to me, “Be yourself.” And Jen says, “You dumb.”

 A couple weeks ago I decided that I had to get off my fat ass and do the dishes so naturally I put on some music. Then, the drain clogs and I get really anxious because I hate the garbage disposal so much. I think it’s dark and scary and it’ll hurt me. It’s like the house’s vagina. So I turn it on and I hear this horrible noise. I look and there’s a fork being blended by the vulva. So I’m like, “Stop being an idiot. Just reach inside and pull it out and it will be fine. Everything is fine. Nothing can hurt you because you’re a white, male, American. You’re fine.” I reach inside and I try pulling it out and discover that the fork is somehow wedged and stuck. And just as Whitney Houston starts belting, “AAAANNND IIII-EE-IIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOUUUU,” I realize that I hadn’t even turned off the garbage disposal. I hadn’t even turned off the fucking garbage disposal. Whatthefuckiswrongwithme. A labia almost ate my hand.

What can we learn from the mentally challenged, delusional gay kid? And I say, “I don’t know. It’s not a big deal. I’m so thin. Everything will work out. Let’s just go to Vegas! Omg I just threw up in someone’s bed. Oh, well!”

RATCHET

                I checked out a guy at work for a good five minutes before I realized he was mentally handicapped. I was mortified… That I didn’t get his number. I feel like most people know what the word “ratchet” means. Black people think to themselves, “Obviously. She ratchet.” White people think, “A socket wrench, duh. I’ll stop by Menards on my way home from Panera and pick one up.” Well, I’m white and I didn’t know what it meant for some time and I spelled it r-a-c-h-e-t until I looked up the proper spelling on urbandictionary.com right before I wrote this example.

               My life the past four months has been the embodiment of this word. Hence, making sexy eyes at a hotty with an endocrine imbalance. I can’t help it. I want to celebrate. I mean, I’m graduated (basically). I’m young (36 in gay years). I have a good job (nope). I have a job (nope). So I should be able to do whatever I want whenever I want. *He opens the top of a box of wine, pulls out the bag, and squeezes the rest of the Franzia into his mouth like Frodo on the dry slopes of Mount Doom.

                One example of what I’m talking about is the night I spent some quality time with my neighbors. My friend, Nelly was with me and we were out of alc so we stopped by their place to “catch up” and “be friends.” So I have a straight raspberry vodka (straightest thing about me) and I’m playing entertainer and saying offensive and horrible things and I say, “Just let me know if anything I say is over the line.” And the apartment in consensus says, “It’s all over the line but you’re hilarious!” And I’m like, “I know.” So then, these girls walk in and they’re talking to the boring roommate, Bryan, so I’m not paying attention to anything they’re saying. Keep in mind these girls are wearing tube dresses and six inch gold hooker heels. So then the girls leave and I don’t remember saying this but apparently I shouted, “You guys paid for prostitutes and didn’t even have sex with them?” Bryan looks at me and says, “That was my sister.” Then, I say, “Oh. How big is her pussy?” RATCHET. I can’t believe I didn’t get beat up that night. But they encouraged meeee!!! No big. Got smashed. Didn’t get my face smashed. Got kicked out, though.

                People are always like, “You can’t drink alcohol and lose weight.” I keg to differ. Just eat two packets of Raman a day with Diet Dr. Pepper and a handful of peanuts. Then you can afford the calories and the drinks! Seriously, it works. I lost fifteen pounds.

                I went to a Christmas party this year and the party was themed, “Gay Christmas.” I wanted my friend Ryan to be Joseph because Joseph was obviously gay. He was! Mary was the chosen one, right?  And she was a virgin her whole life, right? And then God had to work his magic just to get her pregnant, right?! Just sayin’. Anyway, there are only homos and girls at this party so it was a psychologist’s wet dream. We’re having a good time and after everyone’s had a couple drinks this couple walks in. I know Matt but I hadn’t met his new boyfriend, Taylor yet. Taylor is one of the thinnest people I have ever met. He looked like a Kaminoan from Star Wars. But in a good way!

They make the proper introductions and they’re there for only about five minutes before I shout, “LET’S PLAY A GAME!” And everyone’s like, “Ok.” And I say, “I think we should all take bets on how much Taylor weighs!” Then, another homo, Stephen yells at everyone to wait and he runs to grab a scale. And then we actually made him do it. AND I WON THE GAME! I was only four pounds off. He was 5’11 and weighed 125lbs. It’s not bullying if it’s funny.

                I watched a kid pee into a plastic bag in front of me. When he was done, he handed the bag to his mother and she put it in her purse. That’s how people roll at Disney. I hope the bag broke open while she rode the ride.

                My friends and I went to the gay bar a couple weeks ago and Jen got kicked out. Isn’t that the most embarrassing? How do you get kicked out of a gay bar? I’ll tell you, she fell asleep leaning against a wall.

                I saw Steven Tyler at work. He was short. And ratchet.

                I accidentally sprayed a little girl in the face with silly string at Wal-mart.

Nelly and I went to a paint party in November and that night may have been the most ratchet night of my life. We began by taking the party bus to this bar in downtown Orlando. By the time we arrived we had successfully shared a bottle of cake vodka. We received four free drinks thanks to Nelly’s persuasion. We only enjoyed two of them because we kept falling over. The floor was slippery with paint, rum, and regrets!

I woke up the next day with green pubes. Every hair follicle on my body was encrusted with a rainbow selection of paints. I discovered later that I had a terrible cut on my arm that I told everyone was a zombie bite. I tried to start a fight with a stupid girl and then pretended that it was her fault and then everyone was on my side. I made out with Nelly while she peed up against a wall. Twice. (The cops were out to play so we were keepin our bladders on the DL).

What have we learned about being ratchet? You lose all sense of discrimination. Not only have I checked out that mentally handicapped guy, I’ve also been more open minded to sleeping with cab drivers, clowns, boring people, sleeping people, dead people, Flava Flav, and horses. 

What To Expect From The Disney College Program

          The other day I woke up to find my entire bathroom covered in vomit. This was after one of my roommates shit himself but before I watched a three year old pee into a bag while waiting in line to ride Soarin’. Let me back up. Before all of this, eight people from my apartment complex were terminated because they decided it would be a good idea to have an orgy in the Vista Way hot tub. I’m sorry, let’s go a little further back. The Disney College Program is magical. I’ve written several blogs (keep in mind, blogging is still totally hip) about Disney but this is the ultimate What To Expect When You’re Expecting Something Completely Different Blog.

                First of all, the application process for The Disney College Program is redonkulous. Applying for the CIA is easier than Disney. Believe me, I’ve applied for the CIA. They didn’t accept me because I was too well known with my blog getting at least 14 hits a day. So. After you apply you’ll get an e-mail saying that you’re an idiot or a phone call from a Disney Princess saying that you’ve moved on to the interview round. Then, after you’re phone interview you’ll get an e-mail saying that you’re an idiot or a Disney Princess will congratulate you for becoming a slave for a fortune 500 company.

                Don’t get me wrong. I love working here. I wouldn’t have done a second program if I didn’t. But I see a lot of people asking about the program on the Google and the Facebook and I am now performing my duty as a Disney slave to let all future CPs (college program students) know how this whole process works.

                So now you are one of the 6,000 that was accepted of over 60,000 applicants. Awesome! Feel good about yourself? Don’t! You are going to be working with some of the dumbest people you have ever met. Imagine working with the invalid from The Goonies, the invalid from Glee, and the invalid Nicholas Cage every day for four months. Imagine going to work and having these people as your bosses. You have now made a journey into your imagination. Welcome back. The Disney College Program website will tell you all of the things you should bring with you. The Disney College Program website fails to mention things like pillows, sheets, your fleshlight, and other essentials. Think of coming here like your freshman year at the dorms. You wouldn’t start your freshman year without your gravity bong would you?

                That brings me to the next topic of discussion. Termination. Don’t actually bring your gravity bong. And if you do, keep it in your car. And if you keep it in your car, use your That’s So Raven eyeball zoom to predict when the drug dogs come and sniff out the place. You can literally get fired for anything. ANYTHING. My roommate literally just got termed because he was deemed “too unstable.” Granted, he did act like an arthritic elephant nearing its final days but still. Just the other day two CPs got fired because they tried to ride the rides during magic hours with expired hotel key cards. If you get termed, you have basically 24 hours to pack up your shit, call your parents, and book a plane ticket home. Then, Disney leaves a card for you congratulating you on your experience!

                So you get to Orlando, you’re nervous, you have to go to someplace called Vista Way but it doesn’t really show up on your GPS, you’re probably overdressed and you’re probably gay. Most of the men who work at Disney are indeed homosexuals. Strangely enough, the company gets lots of Mormons as well… You’ll show up, see a lot of other kids your age, and you’ll spend the next two hours waiting in line getting your housing processed. It could be really boring but my favorite game to play is Spot The Closeted Kids! Or another good game is Spot The Unfortunate Girls Checking Out The Closeted Kids! It’s fun. While you’re standing in line, you will have the option to live in a 1, 2, or 3 bedroom apartment in either Vista Way, Chatham, or Patterson. Vista is where the party’s at, Chatham has the biggest rooms, and Patterson is the nicest. If you’re reading this now, you’re probably thinking, “Well duh, I should pick Patterson.” Beware, the kids who do research like you’re doing now are probably antisocial, introverted, and gay. Everyone who lives in Vista didn’t do their research so they’re probably not-so-smart, really social, and gay.

Vista Way-

Chatham-

Patterson-

                After you unpack your things and meet your roommates, you get to stand in another line! You will be going to the Casting building to get all of your paper work filed and your work location. They say it lasts two hours. Expect four. I like to call this process the WE NOW OWN YOU process. They take your fingerprints, do a background check, photocopy your IDs, and probe your anus to test for a positive or negative reaction.

                Phew! Day one is over and you survived! Time to go home, get to know your roommates, and call your parents to say that everyone you live with seems pretty nice. Come three weeks you’ll be calling them crying because Brittany keeps accusing you of stealing her Pringles. In the next couple days, you’ll go to the All The Different Ways You Can Get Fired Meeting, Traditions (where they teach you the history of the company), and Discovery Day (where they tour you around the park and you finally find out what your role is). As I’m writing this, a four year old girl with a Jew fro is tap dancing next to me in Starbucks.

                Before we conclude, let’s wrap up this whole gay business. 80% of the men who work here are gay. Nearly all of the women are straight. It’s a sad, sad world for the girls here; surrounded by princes who are only interested in other princes. If you are straight and a boy, you are in luck. With just these two features alone, you can save seven dollars on your Axe Body Spray. Imagine throwing thirty female cats in heat in one box and then adding two male cats. One of the boy kitties is impregnating all of them and the other boy kitty is clinging to the top of the box saying, “Icky.” People come to Disney to come out. They may not know it yet, but when Darth Maul gives Tigger sex eyes in the changing rooms, you can bet that they will be overcome by the Dark Side.

                 What can we learn from today’s lesson? Brittany is bitch. All you need to do is call housing and tell them that she keeps talking about how she wants to kill herself. They’ll fire her because they don’t want to deal with hassle of a death and they’ll say that, “she clearly isn’t happy here and needs professional help.” Then, before she leaves, steal her fucking Pringles. 

How To Survive College

            “Oh, there goes that crazy, gay kid.”

            “Who?”

“Bradford something. He literally made a girl cry in my class last semester because she was sitting in his spot.”

“Oh yeah, him. I heard that he went to Disney World and when he came back he just lost it. Like, he’s failing all of his classes and I heard he’s run over five cats with that super bright gold car. Oh, and I heard he’s dying of AIDS.”

                This is how I imagine my classmates talk about me. To be fair, I don’t kill animals with my car, I dissect them in my basement and save them in Welch’s grape jelly jars. And I’m the worst student in the entire world. THE ENTIRE WORLD. Thank Jesus Christmas that I am done with school. One time, my teacher threatened to move me to a different part of the classroom because I was so disruptive towards everyone. And I was like, “That’s not going to do anything! I’m just going to have to talk louder so they can hear me!” I am 22.

                I was basically the devil. I did everything in my power to escape class time. In the beginning of my college career I would just not show up to class. It turns out that is a bad idea. Like, I thought my absence was going to go unnoticed when I’m always raising my hand, lecturing someone, or falling asleep. And then, when I would get lectured at I would say, “Girl! I’m sleeping because I spent all night reading your stupid book!” “Girl! Lady Gaga is completely relevant and topical to this discussion!” “Girl! You know we’re best friends.” It’s extra effective if my professor is a man.

                So eventually I figured out that if I go to class but I just leave early that 90% of the time I would still receive attendance points. Then, if the professor would bother to ask where I was going I would say one of two things. 1. “I have an interview at three so….” Or 2. “I have to poop….” Both were extremely effective. THEN, just this past semester I created one of the most amazing things. I just Google image searched “Doctor’s notes,” opened Adobe Illustrator, and then designed my very own doctor’s note!

Thank you for your signature, Dr. Roommate. Oh, what illness did I pretend have you ask? That’s actually very personal. 

Oh, I did this just the other day and it worked like a Charmander. So let’s say that you have a paper that you have to submit online to your professor. All you have to do is search “notepad” in the search bar under the Windows icon. I don’t know how this works for a Mac but you can just find yourself a nice school computer to use. Then, open Notepad, and click File, Open, and use literally any document in the world. When it opens, the screen just looks like a bunch of symbols. Delete a chunk of the symbols, then save it under the same name and submit it! If you try to open the document, a little screen will appear that says something about how Word is unable to blah blah blah. Then, your teacher will e-mail you and simply ask that you resubmit the paper. It buys you at least 24 hours to finish.

                If I actually had to be in class, I would do all that I could to disrupt the lesson plan. It’s really easy. You just have to shout the following sentences to avoid assignments or class time.

    "I think I speak for everyone when I say that we should leave early.”

                “Let’s watch Avatar!”

                “It’s soooo nice out. Nobody wants to be here. You don’t even want to be here.”

                “Isn’t it time for your cigarette?”

                “I wanna watch Charlie Bit My Finger.”

                “With all due respect, we’re so over it. I mean we’re over all of it. We should just go. Like, now.”

                One semester I had two classes with the same professor. She has chronic pain in her legs and her medication makes her super loopy. So not only is she slow but she couldn’t even teach because her head was all fuzzy. We used to play this game where we would count how long she would pause in the middle of her sentences. This is how it would go, “So a Press Release is really about… (46 seconds later) …giving information to the public about the client.” 46! Count to 46 right now. Imagine waiting that long for a completed sentence. I can’t even wait 10 seconds for the You Spilled My Coffee video to load.

                So since she couldn’t walk too good, she was always late to class. One day I logged on to her computer, turned on the projector and the speakers and started playing Youtube videos. Nobody stopped me, but nobody was encouraging me either. So we watched Otters Holding Hands and Boom Goes the Dynamite and by the second video everyone was having fun and laughing. Then, Old Miss Legs Don’t Work Too Good walked into the classroom and everyone got very quiet. So I played another video. She was so high that we just got to watch Youtube for the first half hour of class! And then I said, “Can we leave early today? We’ve basically covered everything.” Forty five minutes early! BOOM!

                I tried all of these tricks for my 21^st birthday and nobody was falling for anything because I already missed too much class so I had to go to all THREE of my classes on my birthday. I was pissed. So I decided that if I had to be in class I was going to be inebriated. I went home between my second and third class, filled up a Pepsi bottle with vodka, threw it in my trunk, and drove back to school. Then, I chugged it in the hallway and arrived singing Paparazzi probably louder than I realized.

                So I’m in class, and I’m feeling good and I think to myself, “This is great! I should do this all the time! Nobody even knows!” And as I’m thinking this, the girl next to me leans over and says, “Are you drunk?” And I was wha-?! But in my real life I probably sounded like Scooby Doo. “I can smell it on you. You reek.” And as she’s saying this, my professor goes, “Oh, Brad since you missed class on Tuesday, why don’t you do your presentation?” Um. Welp. I don’t remember exactly what happened but I do know that I stood up and then the next thing I remember is everyone clapping and my teacher telling me how “interesting” my presentation was. I received an A.

                What can we learn from… (count to 46) …my academic dishonesty? I don’t know. It’s like whatever, man. Life, you know?  

Cindy Quotations

                Normally, I think that I’m pretty funny and offensive and those are two of the best qualities about me. I’m also pretty good looking. I’m proud of my ability to write a decent one-liner but I didn’t realize how sophomoric my skills actually are. My friend Cindy (we’ll call her) can literally beat the shit out of you with her words.

                Cindy is one of the funniest people that I have ever met. She got mad at her mom once because they disagreed as to why they named their dog “Coco” and Cindy was so enraged with her mother’s answer that she threw her phone against the wall as hard as she could. One time she passed out in a pile of leaves in front of my house. Another time, we just had a nice breakfast.

                I posted a disclaimer on one of my last posts about how that was the most distasteful (thank you Microsoft Word Thesaurus) thing I’ve ever written. Well, this isn’t the worst thing I’ve written but it certainly is the most shocking and horrifying post I’ve created. And I didn’t write these things or make them up. These Cindy quotations are verbatim. I give this blog a NSFCP: Not Safe For Children or my Parents. Further, Cindy does not have a drinking problem, she is not mentally handicapped, and she is not an abusive girlfriend…

Oh and Ben (we’ll call him) is her BF BTW-

Cindy:

I had an interview at this bagel shop one time but I couldn’t figure out how to use the bus system so I didn’t go.

God I’m so thin and beautiful, it’s disgusting.

I woke up in a giant pile of leaves last night.

Do I sound drunk? … Ok well yeah, I am what I am.

Ok this is probably too soon but… Can I move in? This couch is so perfect because I’m so tiny and thin and small.

And I still haven’t told Ben I have my period. It’s going to be so funny when he penetrates me and I start bleeding and I scream, “You hurt me! You hurt me!” Ha it’s going to be so hilarious.

Oh my god. I’m going to have to start telling him that his balls smell like rice because I don’t know how to communicate with him differently.

I don’t think I have any makeup in Mankato… God I’m such a lesbian.

I was super drunk and my dad tried to forcefully make me leave and I was like, “I’m 23. I’ll drive home.”

We were at this baby shower and we were taking shots upstairs and this bitch wouldn’t let me hold her baby.

I once watched my brother pull a chip out of his boxers and eat it.

Don’t you ever imagine what it would be like to just have nice sex for once?

I’m so lucky I don’t have a super attractive brother… It would just be so hard for me…

I’m going to try to convince Ashley to change her baby’s name from Amelia to Ke$ha.

That’s the gayest thing I ever… Ok by “gay” I mean faggy.

Duh. Of course bisexual women are more prone to being overweight. Duuuuuhhhhh.

Tiffany fell down a flight of stairs. (laughs) Then, I crashed a wedding. It was the best night of my life and I don’t remember any of it.

We got in such a huge fight on my birthday because I thought that it would be an appropriate time to tell him I had sex with someone else… he almost started crying. (laughs)

I was talking to Ashley about her baby and I hear Ben go, “Well I just dumped a load in her.” What the hell! I’m not a cement mixer.

And the thing is everything is blamed on my drinking…

                You can see why she’s my friend! What can we learn from Cindy? She’s a trooper and we all must aspire to be like her. She will be blackout and will still demand to drive home or hold a baby. That’s tenacity, people. That’s tenacity. 

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.