Posts Tagged ‘Cap’n Crunch’
Sour Grapes
Well, so I keep thinking about how we probably wouldn’t have fit anyway. I dont tend to get along with people who have strong opinions about controversial political issues; at least not with people who like to voice the aforementioned opinions loudly and frequently. And on Facebook, no less.
Even though it we probably wouldn’t have clicked, it would have been nice if I’d been given a chance to find out. But, well, I didn’t want to waste an afternoon anyway.
A Celebratory Shot
I just pulled off the post-it from my desk, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the trashbin, and even though it makes me sad because it represents an end, it also makes me happy in that (all sappiness aside), every end leads to a new beginning. (Except death. Unless you believe in an afterlife, which I don’t.) In a way, getting Cap’n Crunch out of my life for good is refreshing. Knowing that I can’t have him is just one more thing in my life that’s certain.
I’m tempted to pull out the bottle of Captain Morgan Buttercup left in my freezer and pour myself a shot (equal parts the kind people pour when they want to drink away their woes, and the kind people pour when they want to celebrate). I’ll settle with taking it mentally. To new beginnings.
Really Done With Cereal
Remember the “Do it”?
Remember how it I was being annoyingly cryptic about it?
Well, I’m ready to spill now. And it’s not happy.
A Rare Storm Cloud
This is what I wrote last night, after I’d gotten back from a birthday/house party, and then a frat party. It was 2 AM ish. I was just barely tipsy. There are typos, but I dont like to correct them when I make them because I’m drunk, so they’ll stand.
I hate freshmen girls, I really do. I hate how they’re hot, and willing, and skanky. I hate skinny blond chicks with tiny little waists and huge blue eyes and how the boys love them. I hate how I’m not the only girl in the world.
Glad I Went, Not Glad I Drank So Much
Look, I made it back in one piece! (Except for my pride and dignity, but who really needs those? Pffft.)
I’m still a little surprised I went. I kept thinking I’d chicken out, but after I’d made such a big deal of it to everyone, I couldn’t not go. So at 8:30 I texted Crew Guy to ask him the time. 10:30. That meant I’d aim to show up at 11, because I figured if everyone was drunk and dancing, no one would notice a girl standing there by herself. I dont mind being the only sober one in a room (not that it’s happened yet), because then I’m the one laughing at everyone, and not the other way around. So I loitered around the apartment until just past 11, calming my nerves: “Wtf is wrong with you, stupid girl? You’re going to a party, not jumping out of a plane. Pussy.” And just like how every intimidating thing is easier done without thinking about it, in one swift movement, with one deep breath, I grabbed my things and stepped out the door.
Walking up the street to Crew Guy’s place, I had to tell myself twice, “Keep going, girl.” Could I have just turned back? What, and have to explain to Rosemary that I’m a coward? I kind of dont want to admit it, but out of everyone I know, Rosemary’s opinion is one of the ones in which I hold the highest esteem (was that sentence grammatically correct?). I think it’s because most of my friends, myself included, dont have the best moral compasses, and we know it, and we dont care much. But Rosemary, she’s a bit of a prude, and I’ll let you on in the secret that sometimes we bitch about it behind her back (nothing personal, we bitch about everyone behind their backs). But, if someone who’s prudish thinks highly of me, doesn’t that say something good about me?
Something Unexpected this Way Comes
We’re sitting in Milano, sipping coffee and talking about classes, talking about TV, talking about the world and people and talking about sex. He surprised me with how much he knew, how much he’s done. I was a little intimidated because, of course, compared with him I’ve done next to nothing.
He said, “It’s getting cold. Do you want to come back to the house?”
Drunk Post #50 Million, ‘Cuz I’m in College
& we are allowed to do that stuff.
So…Um, nothing much to say. I’m drunk right now (or buzzed) and I’m not so eloquent when I’m buzzed. You’lol have to forgive me. I’m making typos. i know I just wrote “you’lol” but I’m not changing it to preserve the purity of the drunkenness. Wtf “purity of the drunkenness?” My friends dont like blowjobs. I do!
It was Buttercup’s birfday party tonight. It was fun. We baked a cake. Who bakes a cake when drunk? Haha, I’m so retarded. And a slut. I still remember what I did with Cap’n Crunch last week! I kinda want to do it again, cuz I love cock. Okay, goodnight. I should go to sleep now. Bye!
Tidbits: Done With Cereal
The end is in sight! And what a grand sight it is, too. I’ll be gladder when finals are over.
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It’s just past midnight on Friday (which I guess makes it Saturday but it’s never tomorrow for me until I go to sleep). Guess what I was doing last week at this time? Tossing back shots, flirting with guys, three hours up the road from giving my first blowjob. And now? I just watched a really bad horror movie. By ‘really bad’ I mean, it was so bad that it was good. And this movie was really really bad.
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What do I do now? Is my life changed? Part of me wished it was going to, but I dont really think it has significantly. The aforementioned part of me wants me to just get a move on things. But true to my word, I’m just crusin’ now. No more angst, no more second-guessing myself. I’ve gone near 20 years without a guy, I can wait a little more. I can wait for the one who will chase me.
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Funny thing, but this whole incident has changed my feelings toward JT entirely, which I shall describe soon in a private post.
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Speaking of private posts, I haven’t had one since…March 16. I know, right? I remember back when half of my posts were privated. Almost two months and I haven’t had anything big on my brain that was too embarassing or stupid to share with the world. It feels so much better this way. Then again, it could just mean I’m more okay with sharing potentially shameful things…which, I’m okay with that.
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Speaking of what happened last week at this time, it is now almost 3 AM, which means that a week ago I was probably on my way to Cap’n Crunch’s house. Seeing as how I dont want to sit here thinking (now’s when he kisses me…now’s when he takes off his belt) and how I’m not doing anything productive anyway, I’m going to go to bed.
‘Night!
No Strings, No Knots, Just Me
For the past way-too-long-now I’ve been thinking myself in knots over the whole thing despite how I said there would be no strings, no thoughts cast in that direction. Despite how I said I would be mature about it. But who am I kidding? I’m a girl, and that’s just what we girls do. I’m not too scared to admit it.
Yesterday during my break between classes I sat in The Starbucks, and I drew my legs up on the stool and wrapped my arms around them and stared up the street in the direction of his house and part of me hated myself for being sad because I’m never sad. And I wondered if I was hitting my low. Yesterday was the worst day. Today I’m better. Not back to normal, but better. It took a little sobering up, but I’m learning to just let things go and let life go on. Because really, what else can you do? I know I’ll probably feel differently about this tomorrow that’s just how it’s gotta be.
Twenty years from now I’ll remember this episode and I’ll tell the story to my husband, maybe, and then we’ll both have a good laugh and go back to watching Idol (God forbid it stays around for that long). All it takes is a little time, right?
How I Got My Ovaries. Or: Whoever Believed me When I Said that I’m not Pathetic Loses 5 Bucks
(Note: When I say ‘I got my ovaries’, I mean I got that part of me that makes me a stereotypical girl (and a part of me knew that was going to happen, no matter my protests). This is referring to how I said I refused to be that girl waiting by the phone for a guy to call. I know its neither a tactful or biologically correct way to put…but I was never known for my tact.)
This is a blogging style borrowed from Vix, the OEN (who is ten times more brilliant than me, although you’ll never hear me admit it…Oh, wait), who borrowed it from Bridget Jones’ Diary, apparently, which I’ve never seen
FRIDAY NIGHT, MAY 1
4:38 AM; Stumble into room, sit down by computer, type up post. Still a little numb.
