You know what's really embarrassing? Walking into the bar with Randy and Buck (the roommate, stay with us) and seeing the two lovely ladies who sang like canaries, opened our eyes, and pointed directly at the giant red flags in front of us.
Let us back up.
Us: OMG. Last night with Randy was so fun!
Cute Spy Girls (friends of ours and, interestingly, Randy's coworker): Randy?! Please don't tell me you're dating him!
Us: Uh, I'm not sure "dating" is the right word...
Cute Spy Girls: You are way too good for him! You are smart, pretty, funny, successful, well-traveled, well-read, highly-educated, and nice! (Um, duh. We know.) Why are you dating him?!
Us: Oh, you know him?
Cute Spy Girls: Let me tell you! He is a hot mess!
Us: Yeah, yeah. Story of our lives. Fill us in.
At this point in the conversation, Cute Spy Girls proceed to tell us just how gentlemanly Randy (and his roommate Buck) is.
Story #1: "Let me tell yoooooooou a story. You want to know about Randyyyyyyyy? We will sing like the pretty little birds that we are!" As it turns out, Randy is a little more organized than we gave him credit for. Hey, when you're juggling 18 women, you better be able to keep a calendar. Unfortunately, Randy kept his in his easily-accessible cell phone. One of Randy's more educated "bitches" (his word, not ours....this one was a lawyer) found some salacious texts from another, more mature (read: old.....like, 50's...sorry Moms) bitch. At this point in the early morning, Lawyer gathered Randy's belongings and not so politely asked him to leave. Given the fact that Randy has no transportation (three OWI's, no license 'til 2071, remember?), you can imagine what he must have looked like dragging his garbage bag full of crap across town at 2:00 in the morning. It gets better. One of his younger bitches (his word, not ours) called and added to his baggage the happy news that she was carrying his child.
At this point in the conversation with our pretty little songbirds, we realized that Randy maintained an honest-to-God rotation of women. Our only dilemma now was to figure out which night was reserved for us.
Oh, and remember that fancy, expensive, board-of-directors charity event we attended?
Seven hours prior:
Us: getting excited for our hot date.
Randy: getting drunk (Blue Moon) at his place of employment.
Six hours prior:
Us: talking to our friends about how excited we are about our hot date.
Randy: getting drunker (Vegas Bombs) at his place of employment.
Five hours prior:
Us: calling our moms to tell them how excited we are about our hot date.
Randy: telling the bar, "My bitches don't care what condition I'm in! They're just happy to see me!"
Four hours prior:
Us: steaming the dress to get the wrinkles out.
Randy: smoking...something.
Three hours prior:
Us: calling friends to solidify pre-event plans.
Randy: thinking of reasonable excuses to tell his Friday-night girls (apparently not us) as to why he needs to switch them to Saturday night.
Two hours prior:
Us: picking out the perfect shoes and accessories to match our smokin' hot dress.
Randy: begging his roommate to borrow something semi-nice and semi-clean.
One hour prior:
Us: having a glass of wine to relax and prepare for what will surely be a fabulous, glamorous evening, hobnobbing with Des Moines' who's who.
Randy: lighting up another...um...coping skill.
The event:
See previous post.
You know who doesn't mind being embarrassed? Us. You know who doesn't heed red flags? Us. Because yes: despite those cute little songbirds, we went out with him again. Sorry, Moms.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
A Charity Case
As we mentioned in the previous post, we invited Randy to an upscale charity function a couple of weeks ago. It may be important to note that this was not just a charity event that we attended but one for which we serve on the board, one for which we were underwriters. Read: it was kind of a big deal.
We had been looking forward to this event for months and had purchased a beautiful new cocktail dress (and looked exactly like the model):
5:00 p.m.: After spending nearly two hours primping and curling and make-up-ing, we went to pick up our date. (OWI's, remember?)
5:05 p.m.: Smell the Blue Moon and Vegas Bombs wafting off of our date.
5:06 p.m.: Jaw hits the ground as we see what he is deeming appropriate attire - the most torn-up jeans he owns, a t-shirt, and a stupid hat.
5:10 p.m.: Randy asks us if we would drive him to a friend's house to run an "errand" with him.
5:30 p.m.: Walk into a scene straight from Half Baked - in a tiny cocktail dress and five-inch platform heels.
6:30 p.m.: Drive back to Randy's and force him to change.
6:31 p.m.: Randy invites roommate (Buck) to the event. Repeatedly.
6:33 p.m.: Randy digs out slightly more appropriate clothing (cigarette burn on the pants, a fly that didn't work).
6:35 p.m.: Randy demands that he will be wearing flip-flops.
7:00 p.m.: Arrive at a fancy downtown restaurant to have a glass of wine and schmooze with friends. (In hindsight, Randy did not need anything to drink other than a liter of water and eight Aspirin.)
7:30 p.m.: Pull into parking lot, and Randy answers a girl's phone call and invites her to the event. When he realizes she does not have a ticket, he said that we can sneak her into the venue "in his trousers."
7:31 p.m.: Become even more annoyed.
7:32 p.m.: Move from annoyed to pissed.
7:33 p.m.: Move from pissed to furious.
In the hour that we were at the event, Randy had approximately four bottles of wine to our one glass, ate appetizers straight from the platters (sans napkin or plate), wandered around outside during the ten-minute presentation, picked flowers out of the centerpieces, asked the server to "top him off," and acted like a complete ass.
8:45 p.m.: Tell Randy that it is time to leave, despite another hour of open bar.
Did we drop him off at home? No, no, of course we didn't. Instead, we decided to take him to our house because his roommate, who is dating our best friend, had an "overnight guest."
Stay tuned for that hot mess.
We had been looking forward to this event for months and had purchased a beautiful new cocktail dress (and looked exactly like the model):
5:00 p.m.: After spending nearly two hours primping and curling and make-up-ing, we went to pick up our date. (OWI's, remember?)
5:05 p.m.: Smell the Blue Moon and Vegas Bombs wafting off of our date.
5:06 p.m.: Jaw hits the ground as we see what he is deeming appropriate attire - the most torn-up jeans he owns, a t-shirt, and a stupid hat.
5:10 p.m.: Randy asks us if we would drive him to a friend's house to run an "errand" with him.
5:30 p.m.: Walk into a scene straight from Half Baked - in a tiny cocktail dress and five-inch platform heels.
6:30 p.m.: Drive back to Randy's and force him to change.
6:31 p.m.: Randy invites roommate (Buck) to the event. Repeatedly.
6:33 p.m.: Randy digs out slightly more appropriate clothing (cigarette burn on the pants, a fly that didn't work).
6:35 p.m.: Randy demands that he will be wearing flip-flops.
7:00 p.m.: Arrive at a fancy downtown restaurant to have a glass of wine and schmooze with friends. (In hindsight, Randy did not need anything to drink other than a liter of water and eight Aspirin.)
7:30 p.m.: Pull into parking lot, and Randy answers a girl's phone call and invites her to the event. When he realizes she does not have a ticket, he said that we can sneak her into the venue "in his trousers."
7:31 p.m.: Become even more annoyed.
7:32 p.m.: Move from annoyed to pissed.
7:33 p.m.: Move from pissed to furious.
In the hour that we were at the event, Randy had approximately four bottles of wine to our one glass, ate appetizers straight from the platters (sans napkin or plate), wandered around outside during the ten-minute presentation, picked flowers out of the centerpieces, asked the server to "top him off," and acted like a complete ass.
8:45 p.m.: Tell Randy that it is time to leave, despite another hour of open bar.
Did we drop him off at home? No, no, of course we didn't. Instead, we decided to take him to our house because his roommate, who is dating our best friend, had an "overnight guest."
Stay tuned for that hot mess.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Lessons in Spotting Red Flags
Where do we even start with this one? We are pretty sure we just spent the better half of two months dating (we use that term loosely) a cartoon character: there is no way this person could actually exist. Alas, he does. And we experienced it.
On May 8th, 2011, we decided to celebrate not being moms by doing the most un-mom-like activity we could think of: drinking on a patio at 3 p.m. Interestingly, we were the only ones who had this idea, as the patio was empty. We decided to have one pitcher - yes, ONE pitcher - and then go home. However, our plans were thwarted when two gentlemen (we use that term loosely) arrived and pulled up their chairs.
At first, we were certain these guys were together; they appeared to be way more into each other than they were to us. We were wrong.
The next thing we knew, we were sitting around a bonfire in someone's backyard, in the middle of the city, at 3 a.m. on a Monday morning. Clearly, it was time to go home.
Guess what decision we made?
A week later - to our surprise - we received a phone call at 8 p.m. on a Friday. The caller - Randy - asked if we were at work.
On the topic of work, let us take a brief respite to tell you a little about Randy:
Apparently spotting all of these red flags unfurling in the wind is not enough: acting on them is key.
Before that, we needed a date for an upscale charity function, and despite the red flags, Randy was the perfect (okay, only) candidate.
Stay tuned for the date recap - and more on his roommate, Buck.
On May 8th, 2011, we decided to celebrate not being moms by doing the most un-mom-like activity we could think of: drinking on a patio at 3 p.m. Interestingly, we were the only ones who had this idea, as the patio was empty. We decided to have one pitcher - yes, ONE pitcher - and then go home. However, our plans were thwarted when two gentlemen (we use that term loosely) arrived and pulled up their chairs.
At first, we were certain these guys were together; they appeared to be way more into each other than they were to us. We were wrong.
The next thing we knew, we were sitting around a bonfire in someone's backyard, in the middle of the city, at 3 a.m. on a Monday morning. Clearly, it was time to go home.
Guess what decision we made?
A week later - to our surprise - we received a phone call at 8 p.m. on a Friday. The caller - Randy - asked if we were at work.
On the topic of work, let us take a brief respite to tell you a little about Randy:
| Career | College degree but not using it: no big deal – in this economy, many people our age find jobs out of their intended field | Completely satisfied with career trajectory as a server at a local restaurant |
| Transportation | No car: lessening one’s carbon footprint is admirable | Three OWIs |
| Parenting | Child: as we get older, many people we date are fathers | Has not seen his daughter in three years, nor does he have means by which to financially support her (see above) |
| Legal | Iowa Courts Online: we were all young and crazy once | 2008?! |
| Health | Addiction: yes, it is a powerful thing, but there are ways to conquer it | Nothing like a year in prison to kick a meth habit |
| Housing | Living with a friend: great way to save money | An official lease would have shown up on his parole officer’s radar |
| Domestic Skills | Some parents don’t teach their children to cook | Survives on Taco Tuesdays, roommate’s leftovers, and copious amounts of Coors Light |
| Clothing | Jeans are expensive; besides, the worn look is in | Holes that show the entire butt cheek are not appropriate for the workplace, even with boxers underneath |
Apparently spotting all of these red flags unfurling in the wind is not enough: acting on them is key.
Before that, we needed a date for an upscale charity function, and despite the red flags, Randy was the perfect (okay, only) candidate.
Stay tuned for the date recap - and more on his roommate, Buck.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
We've Been Dethroned...
...as the queens of passive-aggressive behavior. Let us tell you some stories:
- As you know, we had not blogged for quite awhile. In that time period, we met several "interesting" individuals, most of whom we subsequently friended on a popular social networking site (perhaps you've heard of it, as it was the subject of an Academy Award nominated film), most of whom were unaware of our virtual authorship. On Friday, we tried to regain loyal readership by advertising our blog everywhere we possibly could, including the aforementioned site. On Saturday, one of these "new friends" proceeded to delete every single comment he had written on our page. Coincidence? We think not. The question remains: why not just delete us all together? Interestingly, due to us being respectful (hey, first time for everything) he had not yet been mentioned in our blog.
- As usual, this is best recalled via actual text messages:
1:16 a.m.: "What r u girls doing?"
1:16 a.m.: "Um, we're at home. We're so cool." (Dude, it's almost 2:00 in the morning. You're 30 years old. It's time to go home.)2:44 a.m.: "Me and my buddy solvinh th problems of the world. What u doing?"
2:50 a.m.: "Solving the problems of sleeping by moving from the couch to the bed." (Perhaps the better solution would be to turn off the phone.)
2:51 a.m.: "Soft."
2:51 a.m.: "Uh..." (Not surprising.)
3:20 a.m.: "Dude*...I kill on gitar hero." ("Dude?" Really?")
3:39 a.m.: "Oh yeah?"
3:49 a.m.: "You got no chance...I'd fuck you up." (Right.)
4:07 a.m. "Y do u have cats?"
4:08 a.m. "Random. Why do you ask?"
4:08 a.m. "Bc I'm allergic to their damn dander." (What drunk person says "dander" at 4 a.m.?)
4:09 a.m. "There's medicine for that."
4:18 a.m. "I'd be dead if I took that shit."
4:19 a.m. "Abundance of alcohol & allergy meds don't exactly go togetjer."
4:30 a.m. "Were you planning on coming over or something?" (Do not read as hopeful: merely inquiring.)
4:34 a.m. "I'm a guitar hero all star."*
5:40 a.m. "I rock." (Indeed.)
In addition to dealing with passive-aggressive dudes, we had quite an eventful weekend. Remember how we said that we signed up for a marathon? Well, turns out that training for such an event is quite important. We decided to start yesterday. After a day of training (two miles), our muscles hurt, our toes hurt, and our brains hurt. We would already like to quit. Instead, we say this to 26.2 miles: BRING IT.
In order to rehydrate and use a coupon, we decided Sangria Saturday was a wonderful idea. Turns out that our $25 coupon covered the tip. Oops. We also decided that our workout for today would include margaritas (Skinnygirl, of course) at 5:00 in the afternoon.
Finally, today was spent running numerous errands. If you are our friends on a certain social networking site, you probably already know this due to our "checking in." It's not so cool when other people do it, huh? We hope you learned your lessons.
And now, we're going to go check in at the refrigerator. It's time for a refill.
*For all of you Guitar Hero All Stars who would like to expand their musical prowess, we would like to recommend a product: Rock Pedal. We would also like to now give a shout-out to the developer of said product, our college buddy.
Friday, April 8, 2011
We're Too Old For This Shit
You may wonder why it's taken us so long to get back to this blog, the one that has brought us such fame and fortune. (Soon, soon...) Well, we've been very busy - dating our hearts out, slaving to find material for you - YOU. And material have we found. Get ready.
We will start this blog post with the conversation starter we have received from numerous gentlemen (we use that term loosely) as of late:
"Hi."
And in keeping true to literary form, we will update you with tidbits of text messages we have received from various gentlemen over the last four months:
3:49 a.m. (after not having talked for six months) - "Hey, what up? Doing anything tonight?"
2:17 p.m. (after not having talked for ten months) - "I hope you're having a nice spring break. Hypothetically speaking, would you have hooked up with me had I asked?"
11:58 p.m. - "So what up? Out having fun tonight?" - "Hey, not out...in bed." - "Sounds like u need some compnay?!?!"
10:33 a.m. - "What color panties r u wearing?"
11:17 p.m. - "You're getting your Masters degree? Usually the girls I talk to are way dumber than me!" - "What do you do?" - "I just got out of jail."
Just so you know, we have some absolutely amazing material on deck, but we'd like to wait until the relationship falls completely through before we blog about it. It's going to be the best yet. Hang tight: this won't take long.
On another note, Spring Break 2011!!!!!!!!!!!
We decided to indulge our inner sorority girls (SPRING BREAK 2011!!!) and head to Key West for a week of fun in the sun. Some of us wore sun block, and others of us were lucky enough to find aloe:
After delivering emergency care, we headed to the Wannabe-Jersey-Shore-House: Fat Tuesday. Of course we bought the requisite obnoxious coozie: how else are we supposed to keep our Hurricanes cold?
Following that necessary pit-stop, we headed to another must-have of the trip: Rick's fountain. After all, we are a couple of classy ladies.
To complete the Duval Crawl, we hit up a popular place:
We came. We saw. We left. Interestingly, this happens to be one of our parents' favorite bars. Thankfully, they were not there...naked...sitting on bar stools.
P.S. In a fit of insanity, we signed up to run a marathon. 26.2 miles (but we're going to do 26.3). Stay tuned.
P.P.S. We'd like to give a shout-out to the #1 evil step-mommy dearest Gator fan: you know who you are, and we love you one million. (Just to clarify: this would not be the parent who frequents clothing-optional bars.)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Bated Breath?
Even though we haven't heard from you, most likely because it is a sensitive topic and you are embarrassed to ask, we know you're wondering about the aforementioned boob rash and sprained ankle. So, we'll tell you.
Boob Rash: there's a rash on a boob, perhaps from a spider. That's about it.
Sprained Ankle: it's big, and it hurts. That's about it.
The Discovery Channel called us yesterday for further details, but we're holding them off until we get an agent.
What you've really been waiting for, obviously, is the dramatic conclusion to all of the amazing scenarios we briefed you with yesterday. However, you will have to keep waiting because tonight, folks, we talk about cooking.
Lesson #1: they tell you to use rubber gloves when cutting jalapenos. You should listen to whoever "they" are. This is a fact that we know; however, one of us will be sitting with her hands in a bowl of cold milk in about ten minutes.
Lesson #2: while delicious, pomegranates are almost as huge a pain in the ass to cut as mangos. And while said recipe called for four pomegranates to equal two cups of seeds, we will be eating pomegranate seeds for the next week-and-a-half. Muffins, anyone? Fruit cocktail? Omelets?
Lesson #3: how the hell are you supposed to "finely chop" an orange? We are pretty sure that out of the two oranges we "finely chopped," only half of one actually made it into the salsa.
Lesson #4: double-check your shrimp, as "peeled and de-veined" might not actually mean "peeled and de-veined." Also make sure you have someone who is able to handle that part of meal preparation.
Lesson #5: if you are wanting to create a cheap and quick dinner in order to catch a conference call, a.) do not choose this expensive, time-consuming, labor-intensive recipe, and b.) check the date for the conference call.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Boob Rashes and Sprained Ankles
Well, the title pretty much says it all: why we haven't blogged for almost exactly three months. It's been fun, and you can thank us later for sparing you the details.
Remember how we talked not once but twice about our neighbors being careful who they elect for public office? Apparently they don't read this blog. We want to make you aware of a couple of facts:
1. One has to have a college degree to hold even a temporary, stand-in job in a certain business. However, one apparently does not have to have a college degree to exercise power in said business.
2. One can be selected to oversee decisions that impact others in our community despite being brought to court for his own irresponsibility.
Just sayin', readers: just sayin'.
In addition, to our civics lesson for the day, we decided to start our reentry into the blogging world with a few highlights from the last couple of months. Stay tuned for the stories in their entirety:
1. 2:15 a.m. (15 minutes after bar close): "I know you're leaving early in the morning for a 16-hour drive, but I'd like to give you a goodbye you'll remember. I only need 15 minutes." If by 15 you mean three, we think we're just going to keep sleeping.
2. 6:34 p.m. (after the world's longest first date): "If you ever try to mess with my family, you won't live to regret it! Also, you just missed out on the biggest **** you've ever seen!" Shucks.
3. 8:01 p.m. (shortly after our friend gets off the cruise ship in Miami, and four days after we dropped him off at the airport for said company vacation): "So, he totally hooked up with a 21-year-old from Dubuque." Shockingly, we haven't heard from him since.
4. 7:46 p.m. (on a first date): "I don't normally tell people this, but I'll tell you. I work at Adventureland." If only mouse ears were involved...
5. 9:15 p.m. (while hanging out with Thing One): Twinkle Toes says, "Maybe her friend wants to come over, too!" Um, doubt it.
6. 2:15 p.m. (while on a blind date): "..." We wish there were sound bytes, but alas, he did not say a word, so we proceeded to get blindingly drunk.
7. 2:34 a.m. (after being called twice and finally answering): "I am just so attracted to you. Like, I really like you. It's too bad we work together. Do you have friends with you?" Um, do you have any friends with you? Preferably friends who don't pretend to be single and whose cover is totally blown after seeing the car-seats.
8. 7:56 p.m. (during a dinner meeting for which the focus was our mutual work for a non-profit): capital "R" reason for moving to Iowa (and only other local volunteer for the non-profit organization) walks in with his new girlfriend: with jaw hitting the floor, nothing but a baffled stare. (Perhaps there isn't a sound byte to share because we contacted his other ex-girlfriend and unraveled six years of lies.)
9. 6:12 p.m. (on a first date): Why, Rocco, did you feel the unicycle was an appropriate mode of transportation for a 29-year-old? (Sadly, Rocco is not one of our made-up names and is, in fact, the only real name we've ever used on this blog.)
10. 3:34 a.m. (from a boy we met once): "Hey." Again, "hey" is not an appropriate way to start a conversation - especially at 3 a.m. - even more especially when we only met you once.
11. 10:20 p.m. (while we bloggers were on a long-distance call with each other and did not switch over to answer an incoming call): voicemail from Thing One: "I'm never f$%#ing coming over there again!" His anger lasted about 17 hours, as he bought us sushi the next night.
Stay tuned for the sequel! Hopefully it'll be more tomorrow than three months.
Remember how we talked not once but twice about our neighbors being careful who they elect for public office? Apparently they don't read this blog. We want to make you aware of a couple of facts:
1. One has to have a college degree to hold even a temporary, stand-in job in a certain business. However, one apparently does not have to have a college degree to exercise power in said business.
2. One can be selected to oversee decisions that impact others in our community despite being brought to court for his own irresponsibility.
Just sayin', readers: just sayin'.
In addition, to our civics lesson for the day, we decided to start our reentry into the blogging world with a few highlights from the last couple of months. Stay tuned for the stories in their entirety:
1. 2:15 a.m. (15 minutes after bar close): "I know you're leaving early in the morning for a 16-hour drive, but I'd like to give you a goodbye you'll remember. I only need 15 minutes." If by 15 you mean three, we think we're just going to keep sleeping.
2. 6:34 p.m. (after the world's longest first date): "If you ever try to mess with my family, you won't live to regret it! Also, you just missed out on the biggest **** you've ever seen!" Shucks.
3. 8:01 p.m. (shortly after our friend gets off the cruise ship in Miami, and four days after we dropped him off at the airport for said company vacation): "So, he totally hooked up with a 21-year-old from Dubuque." Shockingly, we haven't heard from him since.
4. 7:46 p.m. (on a first date): "I don't normally tell people this, but I'll tell you. I work at Adventureland." If only mouse ears were involved...
5. 9:15 p.m. (while hanging out with Thing One): Twinkle Toes says, "Maybe her friend wants to come over, too!" Um, doubt it.
6. 2:15 p.m. (while on a blind date): "..." We wish there were sound bytes, but alas, he did not say a word, so we proceeded to get blindingly drunk.
7. 2:34 a.m. (after being called twice and finally answering): "I am just so attracted to you. Like, I really like you. It's too bad we work together. Do you have friends with you?" Um, do you have any friends with you? Preferably friends who don't pretend to be single and whose cover is totally blown after seeing the car-seats.
8. 7:56 p.m. (during a dinner meeting for which the focus was our mutual work for a non-profit): capital "R" reason for moving to Iowa (and only other local volunteer for the non-profit organization) walks in with his new girlfriend: with jaw hitting the floor, nothing but a baffled stare. (Perhaps there isn't a sound byte to share because we contacted his other ex-girlfriend and unraveled six years of lies.)
9. 6:12 p.m. (on a first date): Why, Rocco, did you feel the unicycle was an appropriate mode of transportation for a 29-year-old? (Sadly, Rocco is not one of our made-up names and is, in fact, the only real name we've ever used on this blog.)
10. 3:34 a.m. (from a boy we met once): "Hey." Again, "hey" is not an appropriate way to start a conversation - especially at 3 a.m. - even more especially when we only met you once.
11. 10:20 p.m. (while we bloggers were on a long-distance call with each other and did not switch over to answer an incoming call): voicemail from Thing One: "I'm never f$%#ing coming over there again!" His anger lasted about 17 hours, as he bought us sushi the next night.
Stay tuned for the sequel! Hopefully it'll be more tomorrow than three months.
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