just because.. we dated doesn't mean i even liked you

You want to stay up all night with my roommate drawing fake tattoos on her? After you told me you really liked her tits? Oh why not, that sounds fun.

You tell some girl to come visit you while I’m visiting family on Thanksgiving? Fun! And I find out because you left your phone next to the bed we share while you're getting drunk in your roommates room and I answered it. That’s even more fun.

I get accepted into a college 8 hours away from my hometown to be closer to you. We plan for months on how our relationship will go once I’m closer. You decide to text me while I’m driving with my family, who’s coming to move me into my new dorm that you want to break up. You could have saved the money and told me when I got there.

I find out the new girl you’re sleeping with is 15 by the voicemail you received from the county sheriffs office looking for her the weekend previously. Now that Little Mermaid watch packaging and long blonde hair in your car make sense. I guess I was getting to old for you.

It’s just not the right time for you, I get it, but you want to date that other girl from structural drawing class? Even after you told me you were molested after we had sex one night? I didn’t see that one coming.

I follow you across the country and live in a guest bedroom of some couple I’ve never met. I get eaten alive by bedbugs and you break your fist on a telephone booth trying not to hit me within the first week of me moving in. While out drinking with some new friends we’ve made, you tell them you fucked one of your patrons at the bar you used to bartend at. You forgot to mention that to me, like, ever before. Awkward.

You tell me you’re divorced and have me spend the weekend with you. Your child wakes up at 6am screaming "MOMMY" at me at the top of her lungs. The next day while you’re tattooing me, your wife shows up and sits with us for 6 out of the 10 hours. She adds me on myspace. She doesn’t know we slept together the night before, and you’re in deep shit.  I should have known when I realized you were living in your parents basement at 33.

We start sleeping together. You run into a friend of mine at a bar and drunkenly tell them you’re dating a girl that’s a brunette and really into astrology. I have black hair and I’m pretty sure you were born in the year of the asshole.

I avidly avoid you for weeks. You can’t take the hint and I ask you if you really think there’s a spark between us, via text. You say yes. Even more awkward.

We spent an entire day fighting but I make amends long enough for you to be my date for a friend’s birthday party. You get jealous and leave me at the club, with the one person you’re jealous that I’m talking to. I sleep with them. Your bad. 

xo

just because.. living in an apartment is great

This month will make three years I’ve lived in this apartment. Three very long years. It’s a never ending adventure.

There’s a swimming pool in my kitchen. It’s about the size of a puddle, and it comes and goes as it pleases. Its main source of water comes from my refrigerator. Awesome right?

I have two rooms that function as saunas late at night. One of said rooms even has an aromatherapy option. The aromatherapy fragrance of the night is all dependant on the individuals downstairs, but it ranges from apple body wash, some kind of man body wash like axe, and hot poop.

My bathroom is conveniently just the size for one person. If keeping your feet on the ground is to much while sitting on my toilet, the wall is right there for you to prop your feet up on. You can always stand in one spot when reaching for anything on the shelves, but be careful not to drop anything. It’ll go right in my toilet. My shower takes up the entire back of my bathroom, and sorry folks it’s standing room only.

There’s a constant percussion concert coming from my upstairs neighbors. Some days I think it’s a combination of percussion practice and a wrestling match. I think I have a very multi-talented family of 5 living up there.

That gigantic crazy dog barking and scratching at the window downstairs as you enter and head to the second floor? Oh, don’t mind him. You’ll get to hear him howl and bark throughout the night. He’s like a guard dog that sets off a chain reaction, getting all of my dogs riled up and on guard.  

If ever in doubt as to whether or not you should shut off a light, or if they’ve changed up the laundry schedule, you can be reassured there will be post-it notes at eye level. Don’t worry, they won’t fall off. They get taped on.

The free laundry in the basement gives you the added bonus of trying to overcome any fears you may have stemming from ghost stories. Lights? Now that’s just silly who needs those. It’s nice and dark except for right over where the washer and dryer are.  The light is just dim enough to see what you’re doing, but not to read any of the dials or functions. Who really needs to see what cycle the washer is on anyways? 

 

xo

 

just because.. i'll admit

I’ll admit I hate the mustache on everything trend. That applies to beards as well.

I’ll admit I had Domino’s gluten free pineapple pizza for dinner last night and it was fucking delicious.  

I’ll admit I’ve had at least 2 glasses of wine every night this week.

I’ll admit I mostly paint my nails so I don’t bite them.

I’ll admit that I’ve been in my pajamas since 6:30pm.

I’ll admit that I was wearing said pajamas when I took the dogs out for a potty break, and am a little ashamed that my neighbor caught me.

I’ll admit I got sucked into shopping on etsy and two hours went by. Opps. 

I’ll admit I have a bad case of road rage that comes out every time I’m behind the wheel.

I’ll admit I haven’t shaved my legs in months.

I’ll admit I talk to my mom on the phone almost every day, and we still don’t really listen to each other.

 

xo