Dating: DON’T DO IT

I feel old as shit today.

It’s not my birthday or anything, although that is coming up in a bit.  It’s not because I found a whisker the other day either.  YES, I had a whisker.  It was horrifying.  But that’s not why either.  I feel old as shit because yesterday I realized I would have a 30 year old sister in less than 3 years.

That’s how this all started anyway.  Then I started talking to one of my bffs from high school.  She is married now.  I KNOW A NUMBER OF INDIVIDUALS WHO ARE MARRIED - believe it or not.  In addition her husband (*gasp*) is in the military, and we were discussing the militaryness of things, such as LT deploying next week (sucks) and her man deploying for 6 months at a time (she wins cause LTs deployments are are usually 30 days).

First of all, I painted my nails white with purple, pink, and orange dasies to ward off the creeping feeling of oldness when I realized my sister would soonish be 30 (I’ve found it’s actually helping).

Secondly, why are we talking about our men an not ourselves?  Aren’t we supposed to be vapid teenagers who write notes and dish wickedly about the people we know and don’t like?  At least that’s what we used to do.  What are you supposed to do when adulthood sounds horrifying, and relapsing into the snotty punk of your youth makes you want to kick your own ass at 16?

Blech.  And this army thing, what is with that?  I mean god love the army and everything, but my college self would totally be assessing my current self and scolding me:

“RAMONA - WE DO NOT DATE THE ARMY!  You KNOW this!  We can drool on the army, admire it’s collective firm butt from afar, we can even cop a feel if we are feeling so blithe, but we DO NOT DATE THE ARMY.  They shoot things, they grunt, they smell like they have been living with a large group of men because they HAVE BEEN living with a large group of men.  God, get it together.” as she shakes her stupid head at me like she knows something I don’t.

But I know something she doesn’t.  Once you have squeezed an ass that spent a month in a desert on a stair master, you do not deny it.  Especially if it’s clad in a uniform because that is HOT.

Now, I feel much younger.

In a moment of weakness and inspiration I bought the domain datingdontdoit.com for another year.  Thus, this:

It’s funny how ex boyfriends make you feel.  Some, you’d like to throw up on, some seem appropriate for the corresponding part of your life considering you thought you were a skater girl and dating a drummer was the coolest thing ever, and some aren’t so bad when you have enough time to blot out the stupid parts.

Facebook is a funny thing when it comes to ex-boyfriends too.  If you are civil and remain friends with them you’ve got this News Feed of information to contend with, that on one morning might reveal that an old high school enemy has gained an awe/giggle inducing amount of weight, and the next shows you your ex boyfriends cute new girlfriend/funlife/anything else to make you feel shitty.  No matter how much you don’t care about them anymore, the possibility that they might be more awesome than you always has the potential to leave a little egg on your face.  Not like a big fat raw egg or anything (unless they win the lotto or something), just a little crumb of scrambled egg, but still - ew.

I hate this part.  Whenever I see The Square Peg pop up on my news feed, I get this irritating feeling that he might somehow get away, and reach beyond my means of awesomeness.  Which is funny actually because my general thoughts when it comes to him are just that;  “Get away.”

I want you to know that I think one of my twisted ultimate goals has become making my facebook status say something like WHAT NOW, BITCHES!? with a corresponding profile picture of me with Pope John Paul on one side (I know he’s dead but I liked him better than the Eggs Benedict guy), Barak Obama on the other, my Grammys I got for being a rockstar, my super hot husband next to me in an Asten Marten looking sexy as hell, with a trunk full of money.  Asten Martens probably don’t even HAVE trunks, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t have mine yet.

Suck on that all you ex-boyfriends huh?

Seriously though, the best thing ever is to be happy and have adorable pictures of your real boyfriend and your real life that are cute and sickening and THE BEST.

Dear Reader,

Look - here’s the deal:

- I have a boyfriend and he’s CRAZY and EXHAUSTING.  However, because I love him, I’m not fond of writing evil things about him online.  There aren’t really that many evil things to write…

- I now have many more pressing things to bitch about than dating.  I do however, dear reader, miss manhunting.  It is a pastime that I will remember fondly, mostly, and if not fondly it will make me laugh maniacally as the two run together a lot of the time in my head.

- I fully intend to continue writing, mostly about hilarious/staggeringly stupid customers I encounter at work, LT and his bumbles, and jerks that cut me off on the highway - just not anonymously, and not here.  Because I love you all dearly, even the ones of you I don’t actually know, I’m thinking I’ll link you to the new blog once it’s up and running.

- After a year long run, and a really good time, it is with teary eyes and drunken fingers that I am announcing the official end of Dating: don’t do it!

IT’S OVER BETWEEN US.

DON’T WORRY - IT’S NOT YOU - IT’S ME!

Wow guys, I think you just got dumped…

Ouch that smarts, doesn’t it?  I wonder if anyone has been dumped via blog post before.

Oh and because it’s been a while and you’ve missed out on some crazy shit, I’ll leave you with a some pictures of the ENORMOUS TRICERATOPS TATTOO that LT got without consulting me.  I HATE IT, and spent about 36 hours screaming at him as a result.  He chose to do this while I was in California on a business trip too so that was fun for me.  I’m pretty much over it now cause there’s no sense in making him feel like a dog turd forever, but I still think it’s pretty awful.

Pictures after the jump.

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Remember back when I was acting a fool over a tall scrawny dork who wore elastic dress shoes???

Thank god that’s over, eh?  The Green Giant doesn’t lend himself well to being the most memorable sort of character.  To be honest with you, I did look for his car in the parking lot for a month or two after I called it quits, but I had completely forgotten about him until I got wind of some curious news.

It’s not NEWS news, like if say…if I knew it for a fact or something, but it’s interesting.

Wayyy back before time was invented and I was still pining after the Green Giant, he complained about how the business program that our companies are in sucks.   He told me they were quitting the program and moving their office a few miles away in November due to it’s suckage.  This was back in April so I was like ehhhh I’ve got MONTHS between now and then to seal the deal…then LT came barging in and shit.  You know how that turned out.

Anyway.

So I used to run into GG all the time.  All the time, all the time.  Like running up and down the stairs for snacks, running out to get lunch, on the way in to work, on the way out of work, etc.  Then sometime shortly after LT’s proposal fiasco mess of a thing that happened, the Green Giant vanished.  His car was still in the parking lot, but I NEVER saw him.  Not even one time from then until now. Super sketchy?

There was this one morning I kinda saw him on the way to work.  We both happened to get off the highway at the same time, so we were waiting at the light to turn into work, and I was right behind him.  I followed him all the way to the parking lot.  He parked waaay back in the corner, jumped out of his car, and was halfway to the building before I even got out of my car… WEIRDOOO

I’ve seen some of his employees around the building since I stopped running into him and have been mildly friendly.  A week or so I noticed one of his employees had a “packing the office” away message up.  I guess they are gone now.  A “Hey guys, we’re leaving.” message would have been nice, but either way we finally have enough space in our parking lot again.

LT is a pinhead.  I adore him - but pinhead. If you have ever had to deal with a wounded boy you might be familiar with the pinhead behavior I’m talking about.  He was off being a big bad army badass and he “sprained the shit” out of his hand.  He had to pick up some enormous guy and details details…he’s manly, and it might be broken.

For the past week he has been holding up his wounded (super swollen) hand for me to see on the webcam.  This is all well and good, and elicited the usual “aw baby” response for a few days until I was like seriously, take some ADVIL, and see a DOCTOR.  Splint it, wrap it, whatever you know? Just DO something about it!

Unfortunately he’s been in this awful training school which means he has to use his hand a lot while crawling around through the woods and stuff, BUT if it is broken and he can’t finish the school he will have to do it all over again.

Tomorrow is his last day of the school, and his hand is now purple.  Last night he spent like 45 minutes showing me his purple hand and reading about broken hands on the internet.  It went something like this:

Is it broken?  I think it is broken.  But… I can bend it! owwwww See! I bent it.  I told my boss it was broken.  I wonder if it’s broken?  I really want to find a picture online somewhere that looks the same as my hand, then I’ll know.  This one website says my meta…meta…this thing here might be broken… *points to hand*

Really?

I just…

GET AN X-RAY!