It's My Birthday (Remix) by Zero DeZire, or, It was very "They come, they eat, they leave." or rather, "I went, he came, I left."

Hello my beloved!

Oh, how it has been forever since I've written. Actually written. The list about the best/worst from 2013... yeah, I wrote the majority of that months ago.

So this would be the first time in 2014 where I actually write something. Yay?

Since I don't have much to write about, I shall write about me losing my flower. I know what you're thinking: WTH? Yup, at 23 I lost my flower. It's not anything that I have to apologize over, or even give you details, but I feel like sharing my experiences. Don't worry, I won't get THAT detailed. But I feel like giving enough details to share, shall we say, the wisdom that I 'received' that night.

Here goes nothing:

I hadn't spoken to this guy in months. Like half a year? Anyways, we're talking about the Weekend Warrior. I only met him once, during which we got pulled over by a cop. (It's a long story that I'll write about eventually.) I was really surprised he responded to a drunken text on a Friday night.

A little bit about the Weekend Warrior: Dude, this guy, I mean this guy... fuck! I have been VERY fortunate in meeting such a good looking piece of ass last year. I mean, come on! This dude, when I'm sober, is an 8. When I'm drunk, he's a 9. Keep in mind that I have high standards and the only person I consider a 10 is Chris Hemsworth. Ah, yes, Chris Hemsworth. You know what I'm talking about. And it wasn't just about the Weekend Warrior's looks either. He didn't give me the "you're crazy" look when we met. I had been drinking, and being fucking random, and nothing from him. Not a peep of judgement. And he had a nice smile. (I'm a sucker for a nice smile.) And he laid with me in the middle of a street... and... you know what? I'm just gonna have to write what happened the first time we met. Congratulations to whomever ends up with him: he's a catch. Or, at least he seemed to be. For all I know, he's an axe murderer... Dude...

Anyways, in a drunken text I declared that I didn't want the end the year not doing anything with him. Because it would have been a total missed opportunity there if nothing ever happened. And something did. It did. Everything.

The following Monday night, the opportunity arose for us to meet. Due to his schedule, we had a time crunch and only Monday would do. Well, Tuesday could have worked, but that was Xmas Eve, and that would've been weird... Or is it just me? So Monday night, after 10:00 p.m., we made plans. It was happening, it was going down at the Airport Radisson, Room 406.

Right about here is where I should point out that I wasn't going into this scenario like a complete dumbass: being blindfolded and led into the killing fields. I took some precautions. I let Ma Boo know where I was going and what was going on. I wanted at least one person to know where to start looking for the body, in case it came to that. And I also brought something to defend myself with: a wine opener. I keep it lush that way. And, also, because Ma Boo asked for it, I sent her a picture I took of him on the spot. I'll get to that in a little bit.

I get there and I can't believe it, this dude ended up getting a hotel room. I know!!! At the Airport Radisson. And looking up the prices right now... really??? Dude, I so would've been happy with the backseat of a car. That's kinda the way I always wanted it. Teenage status. At a certain make-out point. I'm not an expensive girl, but, apparently, I'm costing you a lot.

So, I get there, I walk in, get up to the fourth floor, and after I knocked on the door, I said to myself, "I feel like a hooker." I like to keep it real that way. At least with myself.

We said our semi awkward "hello"s and I walked into the room. I forgot how good he looked in person. Anyways, we made some small talk and I popped out with the question that would make me seem crazy: can I take a picture of you? I explained that Ma Boo, who totally needs a hobby, had been watching a lot of Law & Order: SVU reruns and that she was being paranoid. (Just like I kinda was/am.) He, as per usual, went with the flow, and allowed me to do so. Ever the gentleman. I sent that pic along with the question: does he look like a rapist? He totally didn't. He looked like a Boy Scout. An over 30 yr old Boy Scout.

She responded with a, "doesn't look like one lol i can't believe he let you take a pic lol"
I couldn't either.
Why would he? No, like this is legit question. If you could answer it please and thank you.

After like 2 minutes, I said I had to go pee, and I did. While in there, I calmed myself down and asked myself if I was really going through with this. Could this really be what I was doing? Could this really be my life? I stopped over thinking it, and I walked back into the room.

I lay on the bed, and we start kissing. I missed that. Or rather, I missed doing that with someone who knew what they we're doing. We're kissing and I stop it to do some nervous rambling. That's how I roll. I did the, "You're not with anybody?", "Why are not with anybody?" and he surprised me with the "Can I see your ID to verify that you're over 18, and everything is legal?" Errr! Back handed compliment. I joked that he just wanted to see my name, which at that point he didn't know. And as far as I'm concerned, he still doesn't. I showed him my ID and covered my name. Cheeky monkey. We get back to kissing and I have to ask him what's been on my mind for the longest.

You should know that my gay-dar sucks. It is the worst piece of shit ever. I has done nothing to stop me from being attracted to gay men. And I have to say, I was very much attracted to the Weekend Warrior. And he wasn't seeing anyone. Why? I just... In my mind there was a thought that he might be gay. And, not to be mean, or anything, but I didn't want him to go all the way with me and have that be the deciding factor in his sexuality. I'm sorry, but that just can't be my life. I can't be the 23 year old girl that loses her flower to the hottest guy she's ever known, only to have him declare afterwards that he's into dudes. That would just about kill me. He responded with a, "Well, let's figure it out", and the rest, they say, is history... Or, if you scroll down...

Before I start, I have to give the time breakdown:
After 11:29 pm: the last message I send Ma Boo
12:05 am: the first message I send after the event
And we should deduct about 12 minutes: bathroom, making out, small talk, bathroom, and the time it took me to get out to send the text.
All in all, approximately 24 minute for all the X-rated activities. Should I be impressed or disappointed? It really felt like it lasted longer.

To keep the "getting busy" part easy to read for Dee, or rather, so she won't be offended by it, I shall now switch onto bullet points.

• we started making out
• before i know it, his hands are on my girls. he really got to know Patrice and Bertha. (not their real names.)
• and then his hand moved downtown, outside my jeans
• that hand stayed downtown, unbuckled my belt, undoes the button, and the zipper magically follows the lead, and he goes deeper into downtown... kinda harshly I might add. (by that I mean, he was rough. and not in the good way. this totally came out of nowhere, totally surprised me, and kinda didn't help.)
• his hand is downtown, and we're making out, and all of a sudden he moves, because his face is gonna go downtown. so he yanks down my jeans and undies at the same time (LIKE A PRO!) and yeah, kinda like Pooh, I become pant-less ______ (the blanks are for the nickname that you're never gonna hear. only my boo boo and Dee can call me it.)
• and he goes down there. and it's weird. I'm not saying that his technique was bad, because what the hell do I know, but it was all so weird. it was something else. (FYI: he did it like what a cat does to milk.)
• and then he adds a finger to the mix. ummm, okay, I guess. and, all together, that went on for like 10 minutes.
• he comes up, and kisses me, and Dee, we should never share drinks from El Pollo Loco ever again.
• he asks something along the lines of "do you want to?" and I answer with a "do you have a condom?" 

See? Even though he was good looking, I still had my wits about me. Talk about NOT half wit. And I wasn't really freaking out. I was kinda outside myself thinking "So this is how it's happening? With David Letterman and Jonah Hill on the background? Eh." Why? I didn't over-think it. I just went with the flow, as per the suggestion by Ma Boo.

• he yanks off his jeans and male undies and pulled out a rubber

At this point I should mention that asked, "Doesn't it suck using it?" or something along those lines. I have heard/read that some guys don't like using them because of how uncomfortable they can be. He, however, being the chill dude that he is, responded with a, "It's like scratching yourself through your shirt. It works, but not as well." Question answered. Another LOL moment.

• he asked me if I wanted to touch it. I did. note: there was a prophylactic between myself and his-self. and I have to say this, but in my mind as I'm 'exploring' it, I'm thinking: how is it so hard? I don't believe I have the abilities to turn water into wine... for lack of a better analogy.
• he asked me if I wanted to suck it. I, not comfortable with the idea replied with a, "maybe later." later never came.
• we start kissing some more and there was double feeling of downtown's.
• he adjusts not only himself, but myself into position before he blasts off, I suggest we use towels, as it would be my first time, and I don't wanna leave evidence of what happened on the comforter.
• he starts, and it hurts. like a bitch. I asked if it was in, and I believe he smirked like if I was making some kind of joke, I wasn't. That shit hurt like a mofo. and I know some girls wanna use the whole 'watermelon-pinhole' example, but I'm gonna go with a 'he's ripping off my fucking boob.' Yes, it hurt that much. and I asked him a second time because, to be honest, he wasn't like super mega big, but he was taking his sweet ass time. Dude, I know you wanna feel "how tight it is" or whatever, but that does not mean you get to put me through agony.
• he's in, and he starts going at it, and I start to feel like I have to pee, so I make him get off so I could pee

And this was one of the best parts of the night. After I came out of the bathroom, I said "Hi-five!" and he totally gave me one, without asking, and I was like, "Cherry officially popped." Yes, he may have deflowered me, but at that moment, I officially owned the night.

• we get back to it. in my mind I'm thinking: so this is how it happens, at the Airport Radisson, with the Weekend Warrior, while David Letterman and Jonah Hill talk about who the fuck cares on the TV. I was very much outside my body for a few seconds. Or like a minute... or two.
• he goes at it for a while, before he groans and I feel something warm down there.
• I had to ask him if he... which obviously was a yes.
• he got off me to go get cleaned up. pants-less, I might add.

When he came back from the bathroom, his vibe was all weird. I was just embracing the moment when he got out, and started to get dressed. He started to make small talk, but the moment was killed. Why, dude, why? I being who I am, got dressed on the quickness. I asked him about the towels and he fixed that. And, without making eye contact, or saying anything, I walked out of the room, down the hall, and got my ass to the elevators to get the fuck out of that bitch. That's how you should live life: you walk away as the past explodes behind you, like in a John Woo film. (A great ass quote from the show "Don't Trust the B- in Apt. 23." Such a shame that it was cancelled.)

So, that was it. I went, he came, I left. And, to be honest, I wasn't impressed. I'm not talking smack about him, he gave 110%. (And, more importantly, there we're certain downtown areas that were sore the next day, so maybe he should have chilled with that instead of giving 110%? Yeah, I think so.) It's the whole 'sex' thing that left me unimpressed. What the fuck is the big deal? The whole act is like whatever. It's not "life-changing" the way some dramatic people (and movies) make it seem. Now, just because it isn't a big deal doesn't mean that I'm gonna jump into it with every guy out there. It's more of a 'I can't believe society puts such an emphasis on this' type of reaction. So calm yourselves, dudes.

All in all, it really was just like whatever.

I'm not putting all of this out there on the inter-webs for people to pass judgement, or to give a reason for me to be judged. It's more of a "knowledge is power" thing. I could give a whole lot more details, but I really just want anyone to have something of an idea as to what could happen the first time. There is nothing on here that has to happen. People, I want you to understand that you have options. You always have options. The knowing that you have options is a powerful thing.

And, for the record, I've heard it gets better after the first time. But I can't verify as to that just yet.

As for the Weekend Warrior, well, I haven't heard from him since. And that, to be honest, is fine by me. No love lost. I suspect, or rather hope, he is alive and well; prospering and trying to forget that he defiled the brunette who's name he doesn't know at that Airport Radisson.

 Until next time, children  :)

*Author's note: Post title changed after I found the one song that I was like "Oh, yeah, this is my shit!!!"

Because the song I was listening to was "Lazuli" by Beach House, and that shit's depressing, here's the best new song I heard afterwards that would totally make my shit:

Sleep Talk by Shannon and the Clams, or, Moving sucks. But moving on is just about the best thing ever.

Hello friends!
And maybe even foes :D

I know it's been a while since I've written, and what can I say about that? Well, to be honest, I've gotten lazy. Taking the time to write, when like no one reads, is a waste of my time. Not to say that I don't have good material to write about: like the Weekend Warrior, or volume 2 of my misadventures with Quick Minute, or sadpanda, or why I won't date anymore (at least for the foreseeable future), or, my personal fave, and most recent story, what happens when you send over 20 college kids for a few days to a town where they know no one... well, not much, but it was a bad-ass weekend! Think fireworks... or lack thereof. Constipation. And I'm sure my burnt nose will be proof of it for a while.

So here is the big news: I'm moving! And, Quick Minute, if you're reading this, no, I'm not moving out. I, for one, like living at home. There's always beans in the fridge, and he helps to take care of the turtle you stepped on. Not to mention the fact that I don't pay rent; my personal fave.

So, to correct the news, we're moving! Yay!!! It's not a bigger place. I think it may be smaller. But we do have more privacy from each other and others. And the neighborhood seems less ghetto, even though it's Gardena. But, yay! I'm pretty psyched about it. We'll be closer to... Wal-Mart? Umm, okay... And I know Dee will be happy that we're gonna be closer because of all those beans. You know you're a true Mexican when, even though you make decent beans, they're not as good as that of your parents. Beans, they're awesome.

This move is good. Change, although it doesn't always seem like it, is good. You gotta just keep looking at the positive. The positive is where you find not just the good, but the great. So, this move is good, and great and all, but the one thing that just about fucking sucks is the act of packing and moving your things. This is just about the worst.

I don't know about you, but I've accumulated a lot of shit over the years. From purses, to books, to clothes, to even puzzles, there is just so much stuff! I didn't think it was that bad, but today I've started some serious packing, and, well, it's a lot. And I'm starting to feel stressed. Nope, not stressed. Stressed happened this weekend when I realized it was a couple of days since I'd had a bowel movement. Stressed was when I met Quick Minute during a viewing and I had a panic attack. Stressed just happened a couple of minutes ago when I realized that my squiggly line button doesn't work anymore. (You know, the one to the left of the 1/! button. WTH is up with that?!?!) Nope, this is just overwhelming.

Overwhelming is manageable. Just take it one box at a time. But, oh my fucking goodness, I have
so
much
SHIT.

Wouldn't it just be easier for me to just throw away all my shit and start fresh, say in Alaska??? You know, go all Into the Wild status? I'm very much considering this as a possibility. It seems like it would be so much easier for me to just start a fire, burn all my possessions, and start fresh. But, I would miss some of my belongings. Like my Hello Kitty pillow. And my oh so comfortable bed. It's so delicious.

I just can't. I'd miss a lot of my shit. So I guess I have to pack.

But, you know, what, no. No more self pitying BS. I'm glad this is happening. I'm my opinion, this should've happened earlier. Moving is great. It's super awesome. I wanted out of this place, and I knew this had to happen. So, in order to move, and move on from this place, I have to pack, and suffer, and carry shit down a lot of stairs, and then go back said hellish stairs. Man, my thighs are gonna get a bomb ass workout. Booyah!

So, here's to packing! And moving! Whenever I get the chance, I'll have a glass of wine in your honor :)

But I don't think it'll be anytime soon. Have I mentioned that I have to study for a test on Tuesday? And I have to do my Calc homework. And I have to finish my Geo project, final?, whatever it's called.

I have so much to do.

Gotta go... do "stuff".

Until next time... unless I'm murdered by boxes in my sleep.
(Oh, one can only wish...)

Dark Halls by Au Revoir Simone, or, I survived April and you can too!

Hello fellow hot dogs!

It's May, right? Today is officially May 2nd. Yay! Just a couple more days before the streets are littered with White people who will desecrate yet another holiday that belongs to brown people. And yes, I do mean Cinco de Mayo.

But enough about that. I am so effing happy that I survived April. No, seriously, I am. April is... not my favorite month. I know, it's weird that I play favorites with the months, but I have a feeling that you do too. C'mon, you know you love the month that your birthday takes place in. I know it, and so do you, so there.

So this month went so fucking slow... as opposed to everything else before it. For some reason, everything in 2013 went fast, up until April. It's like some cosmic force out there really truly fucking hates me. It doesn't mean that this month was horrible. It was... okay. It's just that shit could've gone better, ya know?

So here a few precious gems/highlights from the month that almost killed me:

• I got this great ass dicture (yes, it is what the word implies) and it was a gift! This wasn't no titpix4dikpix bullshit. Oh, no. This was WAYYYYYY better. This guy randomly/non-randomly sent it to me. I swear, I thought he was only gonna send me a pic of his abs (which would've been just great), but no. up in there, I can totally see the base... or "just a tease" as he called it. How good was it, you ask? Well on a scale of 1 to 10, it was a 23. Thank you, Weekend Warrior! Thank you so much! (No sarcasm here, I swear!)
• I finally caught up with Game of Thrones! FML, that show is good. Did I mention that I wanna be called Khaleesi? I also want 3 dragons.
• Mad Men is back!!! I'm glad Don is a philanderer again. And I'm so glad they haven't killed Roger yet. The moment they do, they lose a viewer. Have I mentioned that I'm waiting for Don/Betty's suicide attempt?
• Spring break! Fuck spring break...
• There is this Canadian Whiskey that totally got to me after one shot. IDK if it was the fact that I hadn't drank in a while, or the lack of food in my stomach, but, fuck that shit was cray good.
• The last thing totally reminds me... the word "cray" is officially in my vocabulary. Congrats!
• Dee got hit on at Target. There goes that happy place. And there goes another future post :D
•  I hung out with the Weekend Warrior. It was... good. K, I'm trying not to sound overly enthusiastic about it, but it was cray good. This totally deserves it's own post. And it will get it... soon.
• I had to ask Triple D about drugs. I kinda almost became a drug mule. Thank goodness I didn't go that far. Thank goodness ma boo didn't have to. But there goes another person that she can share her text addiction with.
• Awkward. is back! And so is my teen angst.
• Messaging this one guy got totally complicated. So much. He seems so awesome, and I like him, but shit got cray complicated. GRRRR!
• I got hit on at work. No, like openly hit on. By openly hit on, I mean, he asked me for my number. And, yes, I have been flirted with... by horny older men. Ugh! No, but this guy was around my age, pretty good looking, and he has a job! Ohmigod, the last one... kinda important. Here's the thing, if I do give him my number, and shit goes south, that'll totally complicate things for me at work. And he'll be another person I get to avoid. And another person who might hate me. Ugh, I need a vacay.
• April 30. Everything that happened there. I borrowed someone's car without them knowing and went everywhere. Ma boo knows wassup. And thank goodness the car survived. Had the car not survived, I wouldn't be here right now :) And there goes another blog post.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't a lot. But you have to keep in mind that I really fucking hate April. NO, like really REALLY. The only other month I dislike this much is December and that's because of all the Christmas bullshit. The holidays are the worst.

So the tally for the month

• some light flirting with many boys
• one night of too much drinking
• one morning of PDA and totally getting felt up at the beach with a really fucking hot guy
• the return of 3 shows that I love
• 1 day of misadventure with a person that I love in a car that, some can say, I stole... for A DAY
• the promise of 3 future posts
• and 1 person who is still a cray mess of a brunette

G'nite lovers!!!

because this is my current happy song

Dark Halls by Au Revoir Simone