WHAT I'M TUNING INTO: "YOU CAN'T GO BACK NOW" THE WEEPIES

"But in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself"

"You Can't Go Back Now"

The Weepies

SATURDAY = DATE NIGHT (now that I've had a preview) PART II

Well, Well, Well.

A certain someone...

::cough:: ::cough::

#MOBD

::cough:: ::cough::

who has been a recent person of discussion on there here blog o mine, especially during a (long ass) post last night.

You know.

Well. #MOBD, of Massachusetts, showed up at my liquor store this evening, the one located in MARYLAND!

If you haven't gotten the picture now, #MOBD is in town, and he and I have a date on Saturday night (post my rugby tournament of course), at a location that I have chosen, but have yet to reveal to him. But since I like all of you lovely people I'll share with you... I'm going to take him to Dave & Busters for a little lot of fun and food, where I fully plan on KICKING ASS at all of the games there.

#MOBD and I have discovered that we each have a competitive streak within us. Tomorrow night might be good or it might be bad depending on who kicks who's ass.

But let me take the excitement about ass kicking down a notch, and get to the serious business of my nervous system.

iamsofuckingnervous

Tomorrow night has a little less pressure on it because we officially "met" tonight, but tomorrow night is the real deal.

What if we have nothing to talk about?!

What if conversation just drags on?

What if he decides, eh, this is lame?

What if we hit it off?

What if our chemistry is even better than it is now!?

What if, what if, what if?  

Technically none of these questions should matter. I'm not trying to have a boyfriend right now. I don't need one, nor do I have the time for one--remember, I barely have time for myself, let alone someone else, especially someone else who lives in fucking Massachusetts.

Damn you Geography!

 DamnDOUBLEDamn

Damn you mutual appreciation for Rugby!

I'm also concerned about what to wear tomorrow, but that is a whole other story/blog post...

Fuck.

Follow Me on Twitter

for the full story

#MailOrderBabyDaddy #MOBD

Did I ever mention...

Good thing I have an ALL DAY rugby tournament tomorrow.

Expect a Part III... 

Probably on Sunday, post Date Night ;)

TIME OUT

[via]

A guy walked into the liquor store...

Sounds like the beginning of an awesomely bad joke, but instead it's the beginning of the story that hopefully will not set the precedent for my night.

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A guy walks into the liquor store. My liquor store. The place that I have worked off and mostly on for 4 years. The second job I work, the one that I work over 45+ hours a week at. IN ADDITION to the 30 to 35+ hours that I work in the daytime at the courthouse--a job that for the next 4 weeks I will get paid for, but for the last 6 months I have worked for free. Let's not forget I work at the liquor store and the courthouse and balance grad school... Have I told you how fucking crazy my schedule is? I squeeze life in when I can, and usually it is between the hours of 12:30AM and 6:00AM. Can you say #FML? I can. Sometimes I say it a lot.

So back to the shitshow of a story.

This guy walks into my liquor store, shortly after my arrival and start of my 5PM-12AM shift. If I remember correctly he buys a Powerball and a MegaMillions (of which HEISNEVERGOINGTOFUCKINGWIN)... if that wasn't his purchase, then it was a pack of cigs, but I'm pretty positive it was the lottery tickets.

He buys them, I sell them. He is on his way.

I go get food about 20 mins ago (around 6:30ish) and while I'm socializing with the guys at the sushi place next door, I go to the bar to make myself a cup of crack (aka unsweetened iced tea--for real, this shit saves my life) and I see the guy sitting across the bar from me next to another customer (who is a regular lottery buyer at my liquor store). As I walk down to get a cup for my crack I hear the guy talking... I tune in and realize that the MotherFucker is talking about ME! Saying how I act like my job is so hard, when I just have to sit behind the counter at my computer and bla bla bla. He literally just kept going on and on about it--about ME! I walked by him twice and he just kept on talking.


As I fill my cup of sustenance up to the brim, I say loudly: "Hello, I'm right here, but sure, just keep talking about me." He doesn't even look up from him CrackBerry, he just keeps on talking shit. And I, I walk away.

Now I don't know if he heard me or not, and usually I'm pretty good about dealing with people who are assholes to me while I'm working. But I was in someone elses place of business, I was a customer--who often gets discounts because of knowing the owner and because of where I work--I wasn't going to make a bigger scene.

But WHOTHEFUCK does this guy think he is?! I don't know him. His comments were just RUDE.

ruderuderude
RUDE
rude

I didn't realize how much his words hurt me until I got back to the store, grabbed my cash, and went to pay for and collect my food.

He really hurt my feelings.

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Fast forward/rewind to five minutes ago: 

The regular customer (the one that the ShitTalker guy was sitting next to), who I now know as Tony, walked by the store.

I was going to let him walk by, but as soon as he passed I changed my mind and called him back over to the store.

I proceeded to tell him, pretty calmly (I'm really proud of myself for my calm demeanor) that the comments that his friend made were RUDE and completely inappropriate. It was at this point where we formally introduced ourselves to one another, and then took the conversation back inside the store and finished it. 

I told him that normally I can shake comments off, but the fact that his friend heard me (Tony confirmed this, because HE heard me say something to to guy), and just kept on going, and then the location in which his friend felt it necessary to shit talk me were wrong.

Tony said "Yeah, I had a feeling I wasn't going to get by here without you saying something..." and "I'll say something to him."

I closed with saying it wasn't his place to say anything to his friend, but his friend needs to know that talking crap about someone in front of the person, and in a place where that person always goes, and making off based judgements about a person is WRONG. StraightupNOTfuckingCool.

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Now I'm closing this post with some much needed laughter from one of my favorite movies: The Jerk starring Steve Martin.

The Gas Station Scene

"These cans are defective!'

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oh yeah,

and lastly...

FUCKtheHATERS

DoucheBags.

HOT HOT TEA

 My thigh hurts.