Oops!... I Dated Again

I'm beginning to think that me and the word “dating” should never cross paths. It's become one of those words that I can't help but throw a side-eye to. Or a bitchy friend with whom you only give air kisses to at the party or see across the room and act as though you meant to stare down the person behind her. We've all been there. But if I had to count all my dating blunders on one hand I sure would have a hell of a lot of fingers. Octomom's got nothing on my octohands. (Sidenote: doesn't the name “Octomom” make it sound as though the trick has like 8 vaginas?). But as much as I feel like I've learned from my mistakes I have come to realize that you can't always escape certain catastrophes. Those guys that you think you only read about or see in the movies are really out there, and they're there to haunt your after-dreams. Well let's just trickle down the path of destruction and count down some of my best-worst (you decide) moments. Now this won't be in any particular order cause at my old age of 24 I can't, for the life of me, remember these things. Oh also, names have been changed too... not to protect the identities of the guys mentioned but rather I just can't fucking remember what their names were.

So back a few years ago I remember I had been chit-chatting with this guy on Myspace (yes it was THAT long ago). As well all know, Myspace pics are about as accurate as someone's age on a Driver License. I mean it's nothing that a box of Loreal hair dye and some strategically-placed camera shots can't fix. Nothing says “I'm relevant” like a duck-faced kiss in front of the place where you shit. But I digress. So this guy.... let's call him Guy (I'm not even going to try) decided to plan for us to meet. I won't lie, I was somewhat interested. Myspace had him pegged as a fresh-faced cute guy with an average build, nice smile, and an interesting personality. By the time this paragraph is over the only correct term in that sentence will be “guy”. So we finally set aside a time to hang out and again I was looking forward to it. Now the first oof moment was that he lived in San Fernando Valley (enough said) while I lived in Orange. Yeah it was a bit of a drive but I was young and well whatever... let's continue. So I get to his place and out comes this mass of a person towards my car. At first I thought I was in for a hit-and-run but to my chagrin it was the guy. I totally had a Smokey from Friday moment: “talking about how she looked like Janet Jackson. More like Freddy Jackson”. I wish I had carried a picture of the guy when I met up with him so that I could keep holding it up and putting it back down to make sure I had the right person. Well we drove around and since nothing had been set in stone I asked him if he wanted to grab a bite to eat to which he replied “No not really”. Hmmmkay... well how about something to drink (and by this time the only legal thing I could consume was a Mt. Dew). Again “No not really”. Okay well where's a good place to go? “Hmmm I dunno”. WTF? Really? Cause you know I frequent SFV sooo much that I should know where anything is. I was really wishing I had brought my copy of Frommer's: San Fernando Valley. Not to browse through, but so I could smack it upside this idiot's head. We finally agreed to check out Tower Records and the only thing I walked away with was a headache from this guy getting up in my space (nigga you ain't my dentist so back off) and Britney Spears' Greatest Hits CD so not all was lost! So our final stop was at this park near his house (don't get any ideas) where we just sat and talked... or rather he talked. Talked about how he used to be so popular and had all these friends and now he just prefers to be by himself. Seriously now? Being a loser is a choice all of a sudden? Well better for the rest of us I guess. The most hilarious part though was when I was soooo engaged in the conversation that it lulled me to sleep and I knocked out for a few minutes without him even realizing. If that's not a signal to leave then I don't know what is. I dropped him off like a block away from his house and sped the fuck off. Something also told me it wasn't his first time seeing skidmarks.

Now this next guy was a real trip. Literally. I lived in South OC and he in Palmdale. Apparently I LOVED driving to ghost towns. Well this gem we'll call Jem not for his fabulosity (meter read: none) but for the fact that he wore as much makeup as her. I met this character in a Yahoo! Chat room (yes it was THAT long ago too) and he seemed pretty cool. (Sidenote: only one of those words feels right). Well for some weird reason I decided to take a late night trip up to go visit him (we all know how that ends). I'll admit, the guy was attractive but if he screamed “queen” any more then I would have legally become deaf. Oh well. A business deal is a business deal and I wanted to cash out. So word of advice if you're planning on setting the mood up for a guy: (a) don't start talking to him about some other guy who broke your heart and start crying and (b) don't cuss your mom out because you're with a guy and tell her to “get the fuck out of your face”. I mean really, he had me at “bitch”. Well that wasn't the worst of the whole mess. So one weekend while my dad was out of town I decided to invite him to stay at my place. Yeah, I drove him back and forth. Those are four hours I'll never get back. So some point during the stay he decides to invite some friend over who he said he known for some time. Last time I remember, I never uttered the phrase “Mi casa es su casa”... particularly because he didn't speak Spanish. Now I'm not an idiot. I can see when something else was going on. I was not the one to pull the wool over. The guy was pretty cute and things started to get a little interesting between him and I and of course Jem had to cockblock. Hey, mi hormones es su hormones girl. The funny part was when the guy asked if he could take her for the night and bring her back tomorrow. Apparently a simple business transaction turned into a pimp-ho transaction? Since I didn't have my fur coat on, I decided to bitch-smack that idea and said “No”. Of course I finally had to give in when other weekend we decided to go down to SD and hang with some friends. Well apparently the guy lived in SD so how fucking convenient. Tell me that on our way down Jem doesn't tell me that she wants to hang out with her Latin Lover. Ugh whatever. Needless to say I found out later that they un-blocked that cock. Oh and btw that same weekend I found out that she wasn't a natural beauty. I walked in on her in the bathroom putting on her face (which btw is where M.A.C. apparently goes to die) and yeah “dude looks like a lady” never sounded so appropriate. Well the end for this debacle came when I was hanging out with cousins and getting drunk and catching up (btw this was also my coming-out weekend – drinks for all!). Somehow little Miss 80's found her way in WeHo and needed a ride back. Since I obviously couldn't we got into a huge argument and she decided to tell me off. Whatever. Not sure how she found her way back but I hope that's two hours she'll never get back either.

So now let's forward this a couple of years. Sorry, without a Delorean handy this is as fast as we can go. I figured it would be a good idea to take a break and let the losers filter themselves out of my space. So when I finally did decide to go out again it would be different... right? Well there's a reason why I'm writing this blog. So the next loser on the list we will call Alejandro... but let's say his name is ABBA-inspired. So I met this guy on Facebook (he hit me up) and he was actually pretty cute. But then again so was the first guy so I wasn't about to get my hopes up. So after a few days of talking we decided to hang out. I drove over to his place to pick him up and he asked me to park a little further down from his place. WTF? Did he hear that I was a cheap whore? This did not bode well. Well he finally came to the car and yes was still cute. But wow chunty much? Now I like my men like I like my coffee... hot, brown, and with a good mix of white in them too LOL. I mean he did speak English-ish... but the conversation was as intellectual as a Lindsay Lohan tweet. So two dragged hours later we were still in the same parked spot a block down from his place. I was beginning to think I was catching him in his best light. This could be a hit or mess... that was a type-o but I'm sticking with it. So one of our first “outings” we decided to go out clubbing. What a romantic. Nothing gets my heart beating like barely being able to hear a guy while trying to work out some moves in a room of sweaty men. Then again, it's everything I could ask for! Well unfortunately another victim was witness to this mess. I have never rolled my eyes more in a single night (I'm having my people look into that) but this guy must have had the shortest attention span imaginable. Apparently he lived by the idea that you can accomplish a lot in 2 minutes (again this did not bode well). I mean a song would play, and you know when you hear a really good song and just as your ass is about to drop you get your arm yanked off the dance stage? Bitch this isn't dance for your life and kill me now. I was working my twerk! Seriously, every 2 minutes we would switch dance floors, and Circus has all but three?! I asked him if the music bothered him and he said “No I love the music”. Uh huh. And to which asylum am I taking you later? Well at least if I wanted to create a new music playlist I was able to go off of the snippets of the 20 songs I heard in a half hour. And no this doesn't end there. The NEXT day he invited me to go to his favorite club: Tempo (I see you rolling your eyes so let's synchronize). Now for those of you who are not familiar with this establishment it's an IHOP... International House of Paisas. I mean with all the cowboy hats, snake boots, and big buckles I swore I was at a family reunion... well the after-hours version anyway. As soon as I walked in there I turned into Conan O'Brien: tall, awkward, and WHITE. Any brown I had in me left itself at coat check. And I found out another one of my talents: dancing like a rag doll. I have NOOOOOO rhythm for dancing “Spanish” music. They say you should follow the beat of the music but what the hell am I supposed to do when I can't even understand half the words? The mess became me that night. Now I have always wanted my “suitors” to meet my friends but after this experience I may re-think that. Apparently when this clown met my friend H. Sue he became uhhh let's say “infatuated”. To the point where topics of conversation would be about my friend. Again nothing turns a guy on more than having to dig into his friend's personal life. This guy was wacko. Evidence was readily available. Remember that myspace game? Well hear it played a crucial role. I saw that he had placed my friend on his top 8 (before even me). And yes I know that's a childish thing to bring up but wtf am I supposed to think when you are constantly asked “So how is H. Sue?”, “Tell me more about H. Sue”. Needless to say that relationship did not work out and I dropped that guy lower than his English grade. F indeed... F that. “Don't call my name, don't call my name Alejandro”... no really. Don't call me ever again FERNANDO!

Well that concludes this chapter of my dating tales... or wales. Believe me there are many more but seeing as how this is pretty long in itself I'll have to break it up. So yeah I don't exactly have the best of luck but it's all good. I have learned my lessons and sometimes you just gotta laugh at life... or at these guys. Yeah I like that better. Hope you enjoyed the read.

Today's post has been brought to you by the letters “BS” because Britney sure did inspire this post and well those two letters pretty much sum up this experience. Let's see what life has in store.... :-)

Life is Like a Box of Alanis Morissette Songs... So Thank U India

Well... well... well who do we have here? I see it's been a while since our last encounter. You look good... well fantastic actually. Oh and to the reader, sorry I was having a moment with myself. You know how these things go. Well let's just pretend you do and move on for the sake of the blog world. BTW this blog will be in simple format since I don't have internet at home (le sigh) so for the time being just use your imagination to create links to random shit.

HIYEE! Yes it's me again and it's been ages since I've blogged (correction: three months). So much has gone on and I don't know where to begin. I'll give you the cliff notes version of my tale (and if you're really lucky, maybe the OTHER tail :-p). Well I finally parted ways with the hotel (correction: motel.... correction: dump) and at a perfect time. I think it's usually a pretty good sign that once foreigners start to take over the establishment it's time to get out before you blink and wind up on the black market. And as the saying goes, “once you go black you can't go back”.... literally. Besides, it's hard to work with people to whom you have to explain things repeatedly. The guests are bad enough, I don't need that shit behind the desk too. But I do wish them the best... and this is probably the first time that the words “best” and “Good Nite Inn” will be in the same context. Unless you hear the phrase “best place to get murdered” then that sounds about right too. But now I'm working for a shoe distributing company as their Bookkeeper so I'm right back to my accounting roots. I think my P&L will look pretty good this year.

But I started at the Healthy Feet Store (note: not an actual store) and I'm loving it so far. I finally get to call the shots, organize a department how I please and basically answer to only one bitch: ME! But first things first, their A/P person before me (and I'll use that term loosely) was a mess. I mean seriously, my nephews are more organized than she apparently was. I mean you would think that a filing cabinet would be put alphabetically... NOPE. Okay well about even in the sequential letters the files would be alphabetical right? NOPE. I haven't shaken my head or grumbled to myself more than in the first month. And another thing, tell me that every time I opened a new drawer I didn't find some new snack item or dried good? I was beginning to think that this bitch was either the biggest heffer in SD or homeless. They finally packed it all up and mailed it off to her. It was as though we were sending rations to troops in Iraq or some shit. And don't even get me started on the box full of empty Coke cans behind my chair. This bitch WAS homeless. And from our fun conversations over the phone she made it known to me that she got sick a lot and her son did too. I tried my best to act surprised but I ran out of tokens. I'm going to also assume that her tape player skipped on the rhyme “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down” and just played “a spoonful of sugar go down”. She even came in after three failed attempts (and and don't worry she also ran down the list of why she had to cancel our meetings; unexpected appt at her kid's school, court appearance – again not surprised – and blah blah blah). When she finally did come in I basically wanted her there as short of time as possible. In going through some things she couldn't even remember clearly how to do things. I guess after two years of working there and only being gone three weeks that's bound to happen... well for her at least. But that was over and I finally came to the conclusion: she's not homeless... she's a WHOLE MESS.

So another fortunate thing that's changed are my pants sizes. Yes you heard right, I lost my baby phat. Kimora and I aren't speaking so it was only inevitable. But no, I finally have found a great opportunity to lose weight... working in the middle of nowhere! Gotta love SD transportation. I mean I enjoy a good scenic route but watching empty plains and businesses gets a little overrated. I would really like to meet the person who decided it was a great idea to post the message on every bus that reads something about SD being one of the best transportation systems. I mean to where? Across the street? So now it takes me a good hour and a half to get to work... and the beauty is of course that the CLOSEST stop is still a half hour walk. My legs have never hated me more. I'm almost thinking of Heather Mills-ing myself but on a sidenote, my legs have never looked so fabulous! Too bad the season for hooker wear (btw this includes a lifetime supply of ripped fishnets, a homemade halter top, and Payless hooker heels sponsored by Lindsay Lohan) is over (or is it?) but I'm finally getting my beach body... only to have to cover it up again. I see how you're playing this one, Gawd. I'm watching you. But with this new body (better take notes Kirstie Alley) comes a lot of great attention (still there Kirstie?). I have been getting hit up a lot more than I'm used to. This would be the part of the blog where I link a montage of teen films from the '90s where the geek/freak turns into the hot chick (i.e. She's the One) but alas we shall rely on your memory... or you can just look some up.

Well I'm hoping to bring this blog thing back. I like sharing a bit of the crazy in my life with y'alls and since I'm still riding the bus you know there's bound to be many run-ins. So for now I bid you adieu and hope you continue to follow my tales.... or check me out @itskellychris on Twitter. Yes I'm a shameless self-promoter. What else do you think I've learned from years of Tyra Banks?

This blog has been brought to you by the letter “G” because the words “good” and “Good Nite Inn” don't seem to work out too well either.