Decisions, Decisions

Happy Birthday, The Hoff, you young buck!

The Hoff turns 24 today and is slightly freaked out. I keep telling him to shut his hole since I turn 25 in three weeks. I’m sure some of you who are reading this want both of us to shut our holes.

Anyway, moving on. Tonight, he’s obviously going out with a group of friends to celebrate, and he invited me along. Here’s the dilemma: it will be the first time I’ve seen any of his friends since our relationship hit the skids.

I’m more than a little nervous.

I feel like I’m the warthog about to enter a pride of lions. I’m just waiting to see who tears me apart first.

I thought about not going. I have birthday festivities planned for The Hoff on Saturday so I know we could celebrate then. But today is his actual birthday and I want to be there for it, as I’m assuming he wants me there since he invited me.

And today is his day. I need to put my shit aside as do his friends (if they have any issues with me still) and let him enjoy his day. Hopefully, we can all act like mature adults.

Just incase, I’m bringing along a friend as an ally/wingman/shield buddy. It’ll be nice to have some reinforcement incase things get terribly awkward.

I still wonder though, am I making the right decision?

Beach Bound

Tomorrow, I’m heading down to the beach for a much-needed weekend of rest and relaxation. Just Jack’s parents have a kick-ass house that they are generous enough to let a big group of us use each Memorial Day weekend.

This self-proclaimed procrastinator has not had the pleasure of living up to her name in quite some time. I’m looking forward to whiling away the hours on the beach by working on my tan, starting in on my summer reading list and keeping a frosty beverage in my hands at all times.

The Hoff is coming with me. It will be the most time we’ve spent together in a few months, but I think it will be good for us to get away from D.C. and hang out in a different environment. We are still working things out, and it seems like our relationship is improving, but I won’t get into all that now.

The real test of this weekend will come tomorrow morning. I need to leave bright and early to avoid the horrendous beach traffic and arrive with ample time for sunbathing and day drinking. My goal is to leave at 6 a.m., but, as you all know, I have little problem doing anything in a timely fashion (drinking excluded).

So, I decided to throw a little contest. Whoever can come closest to my actual time of departure tomorrow morning will win a lovely beach souvenir. Just post your guess to the comments section no later than 11:59 p.m. EST Monday, May 25.

Hope you all have a relaxing, alcohol-filled Memorial Day weekend!

Blasts from the Pasts

Living in a big city like D.C., one would think that the chances of running into an ex-fling unplanned are pretty slim to none.

Not in my life.

The past always find of creeping-or shoving-it's way back in.

Last Wednesday, I went out for drinks with an ex-boyfriend. I’ll call him Cougar Magnet. For some reason, women over the age of forty throw themselves at him. It’s pretty funny because though he relishes in the attention, he tends to date women his own age.

Quick back story on my relationship with Cougar Magnet: We were together for two years during college. Break-up was kinda ugly. Didn’t really talk to him much until recently when I ran into him in the foyer of my office building. Can we say random? Ever since then, we catch up every few months over drinks.

So, anyway, Cougar Magnet and I went to this overly crowded bar to watch the NHL playoffs. After finishing our beers, he went to the bar to buy us a second round and left me alone to guard our seats.

Not five minutes after he leaves, I look over and see another former fling, who shall be referred to as Ron Jeremy. Side note: He looks nothing like the real RJ, but he’s as sleazy as a porn star, so it works.

Anyway, when I saw him, I noticed him standing with an equally trashy-looking blonde. Not to do the whole, girl-hating thing, but she definitely looked like a cross between a playmate and a Rock of Love contestant. They started walking toward where I was sitting, so I (unsuccessfully) tried to hide my face by pretending to rummage for something in my purse.

Three reasons:
1) I popped a blood vessel in my eye last weekend and look like a freak.
2) I didn’t want to have to deal with the uncomfortable, yet obligatory introductions of his new gf.
3) As part of my “makeover,” I’ve decided to rid myself of any and all negative influences in my life – Ron Jeremy being one of them.

Here’s the 411 on Ron Jeremy: We had a purely physical relationship that lasted about two months last summer. One night, I agreed to meet him out at this bar that's always super crowded and always charges a cover fee. As I soon as I arrived, I texted him to let him know I was there, but he didn't respond.

So, I decided to do a quick walk-thru, on the off-chance I’d find him before he texted me back. Surprisingly, I spotted him right away and started walking towards him. As I got closer, I noticed he was talking to a girl and slowly began to realize what was going on.

The girl seductively brought her beer bottle to her lips as he leaned in and said, “I think you should give me your number.”

He was totally hitting on her- after he had texted me to come meet him!! How slimeball can you get?!

Frantically, I turned around and hightailed it to the front of the bar. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t about to leave after paying a $7 cover, but I didn’t want to stay, either. I started going through my phone and calling people on the off-chance they’d be at this bar or somewhere nearby so they could come save me.

No luck.

I called Just Jack to tell him what happened and ask him what I should do. He offerred to take a cab and come meet me, but I didn’t want him to have to do all that. I decided to just stay, grab a drink at the bar and hope that a cute boy talked to me.

In the middle of me explaining my plan of action to Just Jack, I saw the girl Ron Jeremy was hitting on leave the bar with her friends.

“20 bucks I get a text in the next 5 minutes,” I told Just Jack before hanging up the phone.

You can start calling me Miss Cleo because not two mintues later, before I could even get my first drink from the bar, I got a text from Ron.

“Hey, I’m by the bathroom. Where are you?”

A number of thoughts are ran through my head at this moment. Do I ignore him? Call him out? Slap him/pour my drink on him?

Regrettably, I chose none of the above. I texted him back and told him I’d meet him by the bathroom. It had been a couple of weeks since I saw him, so I gave him a half-ass hug, really wishing I had the balls (no pun intented) to kick him in the groin. We made awkward small-talk for a few minutes before migrating upstairs.

Ron made the weakest attempt at an apology I've ever heard of for not calling me the past two weeks.

Ron Jeremy: I’m sorry that I haven’t called you lately; I’ve been really busy with work and stuff.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Miss Procras.: I’ve been busy, too. You don’t have to apologize, it’s not like we’re dating or anything.

Ron Jeremy: No, but seriously, I’ve been traveling a lot.

Miss Procras.: If you really wanted to talk to me, you would have found the time to call.

Ron Jeremy: That’s true. It’s just really bad timing for me. I just got out of a long distance relationship and I’m not ready to jump back into anything.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: More bullshit. Are you still trying to justify this to me? Get over yourself, dude. I’m not trying to date you.

Miss Procras.: Let’s face it, Ron, our relationship pretty much consists of sex and alcohol.

Ron Jeremy: Yeah, well, that’s not all I’m about. I mean, honestly, I don’t get many girls. I’m
usually the one my friends laugh at.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: Is this dude for real? Does he really think I’m going to fall for this crap? If you have to justify yourself, you clearly have issues.

Miss Procras: (after downing my beer) Uh-huh, right.

I decided to just get drunk and enjoy the band…at least they were worth listening to.

Later on, Ron started talking about his parents.

Ron Jeremy: My parents are awesome, you’ll see when you meet them.

Miss Procras. inner dialogue: Is this seriously the same guy that used every excuse imaginable to tell me he didn’t like me enough to date me?

Miss Procras.: Um…I don’t think I’m going to meet your parents.

Ron Jeremy: Why not?

Miss Proras.: What are you going to do, introduce me to them as the girl you occasionally fuck?

...And guys say that girls are the confusing ones who can’t decide what they want.

I must say though, my life feels much better without having people like Ron in it. I knew the second time I hung out with him that I could never date him. (He boasted about being a trained fighter and told me I was on “his side of the bed.”)

Why I continued to hang out with him is beyond me. Maybe I liked what little attention I got from him. But he brought nothing positive to my life and it’s good to have him out of it.

I just wish I wouldn’t have to sporadically run into him and be reminded of that part of my life.

Mother's Day Memories

I love my grandma.

Like most 84-year-olds, she has no filter and its awesome.

Yesterday, during a nice, family Mother's-Day lunch, I turend to her and said, "Grandma, I still sleep with the baby blanket you made for me every night."

(Yeah, I know it's lame that I'm still sleeping with a baby blanket, but I need something cuddle with, dammit! I also thought my grandma would appreciate the fact that her sewing skills have been put to good use for the past 25 years .)

Turns out, that statement had no such sentimental value for my grandma. I'm pretty sure she, like most people, thought it was pathetic.

After laughing hysterically, she said, "At least it's not a boy."

Oh, grandma, if you only knew...

When a boy actually spends the night, he spoons on one side of me and the blanket takes the other. Or, if it's a really good night, the blanket gets tossed on the floor. Whoop whoop.

Leather vs. Lycra

This week has been pretty uneventful.

Hence the blogger’s block.

I’ve been mostly on time to work and appointments, so no funny stories about me almost biting it on the pavement in my strappy kitten heels, cursing at the people in front of me for driving too slow and making me even more late, or getting mean looks from my boss.

There’s also been a severe lack of alcohol consumption on my part lately. (Minus the glasses of wine I’ve had with dinner. A glass of red wine a day keeps the doctor away, so I’m told. But being healthy doesn't really make for exciting blog fodder.)

Case in point: I didn’t even go out to celebrate Cinco de Mayo last night. And I pride myself on being culturally diverse and knocking back a few in observation of other country’s holidays. Woohoo, Chinese New Year, St. Patrick’s Day, Yom Kippur, etc!

Instead, my Cinco de Mayo consisted of a homemade dinner of lemon broccoli chicken, rice, and asparagus and downing a big-girl glass of red wine while watching Enchanted and fantasizing about McDreamy - none of which screams “Viva Mexico!” in the slightest.

The best story I’ve got is one from this weekend.

Saturday night, I went to a martini bar with Just Jack and his friend, McFly. Every Saturday, this bar, which I shall affectionately refer to as Martini Heaven, serves $5 cosmos. All night.

A phenomenal deal no matter what, but Martini Heaven doesn’t fuck around when alcohol content is involved. They make sure the drinks are worth every penny of the $5 their patrons shell out. And no Aristocrap, either.

I watched in awe as the bartender poured three cosmos then reached for the vodka bottle again, added more to the shaker, and strained pure vodka to the top of our already toxically strong drinks. This left our cosmos with virtually no pink tint. If I had to guess, I’d say that drink was 98.3% vodka, 1% triple sec, .4% lime juice and .3% cranberry juice.

Two of these bad boys and you are good to go. And for only $10! That never happens in a straight bar.

Best part of the evening though, was before we got to Martini Heaven.

Just Jack and I went over to McFly’s (who conveniently lives in the apartment building next to mine). They are in an upcoming play together and just received wardrobe assignments. McFly’s costume basically consists of black, pleather-looking jock strap with chaps, except they only come down mid-thigh. Hott.

McFly’s roommate (who is also gay): Ooooh, I like that. Can I borrow it?
McFly: No, I don’t want have to clean it after you wear it.
McFly’s roommate: It’s leather, it’ll be easy to clean.
McFly: It’s not leather, it’s lycra.

O.M.G. Hardest I’d laughed in weeks.

Gotta love the 'mos!