Thursday, April 30, 2009

You Won't Get It

I learned my lesson about writing about specific guys too much on here, but I started a story about the guy from the film screening and I owe you a "what happened next" post.

On Monday, I did indeed go over to his place, where we talked for a few hours on his floor. Well, I did the brunt of the talking. There was lots of flirting on both ends, no real physical contact. We texted almost all day on Tuesday, and somehow the texting turned dirty. I forget who started it, but I think we all know I'm no stranger to sexual innuendo, so I played right along. Key word: played. Well, on my end.

We were supposed to hang out again on Tuesday, but I got stuck doing stuff for the Paper and we had to cancel. Earlier today, when I asked him what he was doing later, he responded, "U." This is when I started to panic: all our flirty/textual filth had me writing checks that my ass couldn't cash, literally. I am not/was not looking for sex, but it became clear that he was and thought I was as well. I vented this to various friends, fearing that once he found out these legs were closed, he would be, as the expression goes, so over me. The response from pals I got was I shouldn't want someone who would be over me just because we wouldn't be sleeping together anyway. Point taken.

Anyway, I sort of eased into the "no sex clause" (this is all through texting still) and the answer was not a happy one. He pretty much said he was looking for sex and thought I was, too. So I asked him if that was it, are we "over" if there's no sex? He said he "wouldn't say that" but went on to, well, say it. I expressed my position, apologizing for leading him on and saying that I'd like us to hang out still but sex wouldn't be part of the equation. When I got home a half-hour later, I called him up to maybe clarify, talk it out; no answer. That was at 10:30pm. It is now past midnight.

So yeah. My worries were pretty much confirmed: I told him "no sex" and he told me "well then peace out, bitch." I guess I'm sad about what "could have" been: he hadn't given me a chance to explain that making out/rounding a base or two were still perfectly viable options.

If you're wondering why I'm making such a big deal about this, well, it's time for me to come clean: I'm still a virgin. I talk a lot of filth, but I am still quite, ahem, untried. In every sense. Not for particular religious beliefs or anything, at this point it's just because I haven't found anybody worth fucking. Yes, including you, Film Screening Guy. I didn't tell him this, and waffled on whether or not I should, but somehow I doubt that would change things if he was just out for sex to begin with.

This instance does not bolster my faith in future dating prospects and boy-kind in general: how the hell does a 20-year-old female virgin navigate within a 2009 world of men who expect and are used to regular helpings of ass? We virgs are a rare breed, after all. I'm a little annoyed right now, actually. I cleaned my room for this yahoo. I try to look for the lesson in things, like "why did this happen," and so far I can't come up with anything except for to remind me that "yes, Lucky, you are still [and will probably forever be] a virgin. Still." Thanks for the update, world.

So yeah.

Some days, hell, most days, I wish I wasn't holding my V-Card. Especially in situations like this. Even though I wouldn't have sex with Film Screening Guy after knowing him for FIVE WHOLE FUCKING DAYS. Maybe I should buy a t-shirt that says "Virgin" to alleviate any misconceptions. Internets, a) don't laugh at me. I am fragile. 2) answer me this: what could I have done differently in this situation? Shut down the dirty texting ASAP? Inform him of my virginity the first time he brought up sex in conversation? Let the Smoker deflower me last year to get it over with already? Censor myself/stop talking about sex with such exuberance so as not to send the wrong idea? I never tell people I'm a virg, never say I'm not, let people draw their own conclusions, but tell the truth if asked directly. This involves lots of conversational sidestepping and vague answers, in case you were wondering.

It may not be easy when you're sleazy but it's just as hard when you're not.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Be Careful What You Wish For

On Friday I went to an film screening. Of course I tipped in late, so I sat in the back next to some dude. Key word: some dude.

We made little comments about the movie for a bit, I didn't really think about it because it was early and I was hungry and fantasizing about waffles. At one point, I was squirming and crossing/uncrossing my legs and I guess he noticed (I was wearing shorts) and leaned over to say, "I like your sandals." I am so sure.

After a minute, he introduced himself, and I did the same. I still didn't think anything of it. Really, I was that hungry, y'all. Anyway, my phone started buzzing and I when I whipped it out to address three missed calls he goes "while you have your phone out you should put my number in there." Points for finesse, sir!

He texted me later on that night and we went back and forth on Saturday, too, during both convos he invited me to his place. At 2am, mind you.

Since I'm on my Blackberry, in a booth killing time before class I'll skip to the part where I think we're hanging out this evening at a respectable hour, duh. I'll skip to the part where I say I'm nervous not that he's like sooo sexy blah blah he's ok but you know I hate awkward let's get to know each other one on one situations and I fear I'm not that interesting and plus omg here's the big part he's on the basketball team and I'm scared that his roommate is actually his teammate that I turned down to "hang out" last month wouldn't that be horrid?

Me and the Runner used to hang out in his room but we'd been talking on facebook for like eight months before so we pretty much knew each other and this is nothing like that. What do people do when they hang out?? Why am I so nervous?? Why did I not inherit social skills??
Somebody slap sense and calmness into me. Will report back later.

Update: it's 9:02pm, I'm supposed to be going to his place soon, after a rigamarole of plans. He asked if I had any single friends--like my roommate--if we could "all" hang out, to which I had to tell him me and the Roommate aren't friends like AT ALL, so it would be 10 kinds of stupid to bring her along. He asked if I had any single friends and I thought "do I ever, dude." But none who would subject themselves to being "hooked up." But I managed to convince Ms. Politics to accompany me, which abated my nerves for about an hour, until then she got really nervous, so I put her out of her foreseeable uncomfortability and said I'd go alone, as originally planned. So here I am [blogging] doing homework so I won't have to get ready to go on my first "hang out with a guy I just met" experience. What the hell is my problem?! (well, see above) I need a drink...

Friday, April 24, 2009

Tagged, I'm It!

I was tagged by the lovely Amy of Sex, Chocolate, and Red Lipstick. Here goes!

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:

1. NBA playoff basketball
2. a summer internship with a major sports team/franchise :)
3. meeting my next boyfriend (wherever he is he needs to hurry up and make his presence known!)
4. seeing my family soon for summer vacation
5. Obsessed starring Sasha Fierce and Idris Elba aka Sex on a Stick
6. a fancy-dress event with Motown Lover next weekend
7. The Paper's major "Men of the Year" issue--I'm excited for the photo shoots I helped plan
8. shopping--I see it for the near future: I want a bright sundress and some nail polish
Hon. Mention: hot swimming weather!

8 Things I Did Yesterday
1. Slept in (yay for canceled class!)
2. got my eyebrows done
3. shaved my legs, I think/I hope haha
4. applied for a scholarship (I really hope I get it because last year the awards banquet was super-fun)
5. reflected on my past, ill-fated crushes and cringed
6. spent inordinate amounts of time on Facebook
7. rented "The Brothers" and "The House Bunny"
8. got caught in the rain

8 Things I Wish I Could Do
1. cuddle in this thunderstorm
2. watch the Pistons try and take a 3-0 lead over the Cavaliers tomorrow
3. flirt successfully
4. turn back the hands of time (just kidding)
5. buy Season 2 of Gossip Girl
6. open the bottle of Pepsi downstairs (I had to CUT the top third off of the wouldn't budge!)
7. measure my running distances in miles, not minutes
8. stop procrastinating
Hon. mention: wear heels and skirts without feeling like a tranny

8 Shows That I Watch
Eek! Don't know if it's that many...
1. Gossip Girl
2. One Tree Hill
3. Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane
4. The Game
5. Millionaire Matchmaker
6. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
7. The Cosby Show
8. Inside the NBA
Hon. mention: Ask a Gay Man (it's a youtube series. Sue me).

I tag: Vixen, Vittoria, the Brooklyn Boy

Monday, April 20, 2009

Young, Black, and Absent

'Kay. I am watching the CW and trying to do my paper. Finished Gossip Girl (amazing duh) and now onto One Tree Hill (not so much).

Why can't they get Skills a black/African-American/colored/negro love interest??????

There are no young black women on television. Young ranging from teen dramas (see above) to like, Grey's Anatomy. There is seldom an attractive black female character on a TV show, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it.

Well, we can include The Game which is totally like the best sitcom ever. But anyway. If we don't include the genre (read: black, usually shuffled to UPN--may it rest in peace) shows and just look towards mainstream TV, pretty/desired (NOT just lusted after) AND complex leading ladies never have brown skin.

The pretty part is important because as black women we want to be desired and sweetly courted, too, not just objectified or given the one-off role of stripper. For example, on Grey's. The female characters were supposed to be smart AND bangable, which they were. Except Miranda Bailey. Now, never say I don't love Dr. Bailey because God would strike you down as a liar. But. On the show she's the maternal character, more harshly put: the Mammy figure. She's older than the other ladies, married with a child, and she's never had a love scene four or five seasons in.

I'm just sayin'. "Girlfriends" is off the air. "One on One" is off the air. "The Parkers," "Moesha"...hell, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air only dated black women (and he dated a LOT). Young black gals gets no love, it seems.

Ok, I'm outta here. I have so much incomplete homework it's scary.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

More Harry Potter Nonsense

How amazingly awesome is this newest Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince trailer? I watched in the Paper office on Friday and was writhing in my chair with excitement. I want this one to be rated at least PG-13.

I have lost all willpower and desire to finish my homework in the name of this here video clip. Watch and be amazed.

PS--sometimes I get a little embarrassed at how much I adore Harry and the gang, but thankfully, those times are few and far in-between. Most of the time I just lurrrrrrve them.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Domesticity Remixed

Another double-post. You lucky devils!

After my trip home, my mom guilted me into eating better (and rightfully so) while at school, so lately I've been putting up a valiant effort. No McDonald's (even though I am absolutely craving a Big and Tasty with a large fry and chocolate shake), and I went grocery shopping for substance so I could cook. Which I did today!

To satisfy my craving, I made hamburgers for the first time.

I effing love Kroger's to death. I felt like such a suburban housewife strolling cutely through the aisles gathering ingredients for the night's dinner. Even though my mom, who actually is a suburban (working) wife, would be like bish plzz it ain't fun and games when you have to bulk shop for a family of five picky eaters, I myself enjoy grocery shopping. I'll go in for a set list and come out with DVDs and makeup too, like I did today. And ohmygod, shopping at those warehouse stores called like "National Wholesalers" or "Liquidators Etc" sets my heart ablaze with happiness. Also, the Kroger's near my house is open 24 hours. Which means I happily do my shopping at 2am.

Even though most people my age (including myself) are delightfully liberal, I think there's something fulfilling about eventually becoming a suburbanite. Maybe because I spent a huge chunk of my life in the 'burbs. After a life of moving, shaking, and changing the world, a part of me really can't wait to drive a caravan of kids to basketball games and dance classes.

Well, really, I can't wait for a Saturday where I throw on a hoodie and flip-flops, kiss my sexy husband goodbye and herd our funny, messy kids (but not the family dog) into my shiny Escalade that blares (by then, old-school) Fall Out Boy, Usher, and Amy Winehouse.

Suburbia, Lucky-style. And by then, surely I'll have learned to cook. Maybe.

More Flashbacks

Thursday was Top Chef's 21st birthday...he is now the Official Buyer of My Drinks until my 21st in November. He's having a party this Saturday and I'm super-excited 'cause, you know, it's him, and it's a party and he told me there'd be Fuzzy Navels just for me (I can't bring myself to imbibe like I used to after Spring Break Fiasco 09).

Also, the Science Guy will be in attendance.

I had a huge, girly crush on SG for about, oh, a few months of second semester of freshman year. Lack of palpable chemistry** relegated him to the friend-zone, and that was that. Soon after, I moved onto the Runner...who eventually got eliminated as well for...well, lack of palpable chemistry on my part and lack of balls on his. For serious.

**Ok, and maybe a little because he's short. OKAY and I think I outweigh him. I never said I wasn't shallow.

Anyway, SG and I are cordial whenever we see each other, he is often very gracious with candy as well. Lately, though, he's intimated something a leetle more than friendship. The last time I saw him, in person, he mentioned his upcoming birthday celebration and hinted that I should come. I figured he'd just been making small talk and promptly forgot about it. After all, our entire beginning had been built on fake invitations.

True story: he invited me to church once. CHURCH. I agreed at first but chickened out so my inner heathen wouldn't show. He also invited me to go running with him. RUNNING. I laughed in his face.

Back to the story. When I actually wished him a happy birthday via text, he texted back with something along the lines of "we should hang out sometime." I forgot what I said but it wasn't "yes we should."

So today, I'm hanging out with TC, flipping through some program and SG's name and middle initial, "C," is under the Honor Roll list (I know, he's smart. Reason #44395 why I don't want him...that's sad...). Feeling jokey and in girlish high-spirits, I texted SG, "is your middle name Charles?" I thought he at a track meet and didn't expect him to respond, but he did, with "blah blah yes it's Charles how did you know blah blah I'm going to the party tomorrow you should come with me :-)."

Pause, sir.

This is totally not his fault or anything but he is two whole years late. I'm completely not interested and this fool wants to come knocking on my doorstep. First the Smoker and now this. If the Runner Facebooks me tomorrow asking me to go mini-golfing or something I will honestly blow my brains out and call it a day. Timing, you are an elusive bitch and the truth ain't in you. And of course the one I really would welcome back with open arms, Tex, is nowhere to be found.

Oh my giddy-God what shall I do? I don't want to lead SG on, I tried to ignore his advances without outright saying "no" because he's such a nice guy--a puppy, really--but I hope against hope this won't get out of hand...ordinarily I wouldn't care and let my powers of avoidance run their course but TC's party is Saturday... and a college party is no good to try and behave yourself especially when there's liquor present that I surely will be drinking because this is too much, Lord.

I try to move forward but the past keeps a-tryin' to pull me back. Absolutely not!

Sunday, April 12, 2009

School Blues

I finally made it home, yippee!

My sisters' reactions were exactly as I'd hoped they would be: "AAAHHH [LUCCKKKKEEEEEE'S] HOME!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOOOOOOOING HEEEEEERE?!!!?!?!?"

Last night, we ordered pizza, went to Blockbuster's, and I watched the Pistons. Perfect. Today I stayed in bed until 3 and read a Nora Roberts novel in the bathtub, watched the Pistons again.Now, watching "In the Land of Women" (it's a Seth Cohen thing, except it's not) and trying to start on a paper. Homework followed me here.

Which brings me to my point.

I'm really worried about my grades. In the cocoon of school, especially a liberal-arts one like mine, everyone seems to adopt a freer mindset about school and grades, looking past transcripts and credits and into the horizon of Real Life, where in just a few years (or just one year, yay me!) those things won't matter. Especially me, being a journalism major, getting a master's degree isn't the key to success in the field. I don't even know if I'm going to grad school yet. All this to say, though, that breaking a grade-grubbing mentality 16 years in the making was hard but still rears its ugly head whenever I come home and my sisters' report cards are taped to the refrigerator. Where mine used to me.

My point is, I like not caring about my grades, but I don't like the grades that come as a result of that mindset. Rephrasing: I don't want my parents to flip out over my transcripts. Which they will, if I don't get my act together. Explaining the aforementioned rationale to them is not an option: a) I doubt they'll be convinced 2) they still have two daughters to put through the educational system and therefore need to set a good example. And also, deep down, I think I know I'm not putting my best foot forward, either that or I'll have to accept that not having straight As isn't (always) a result of me trying hard enough.

For the record, I'm not failing out of school or anything. I just might get all B's. Which to me is the same thing.

The whole semester I never really felt any "connection" with the readings, and my teacher was all about "drawing your own conclusions" about the work and "exploring what resonated with you" and that's just not my style. I like to read a piece or an author, discuss it in class, and regurgitate it all for a midterm paper and a final paper. Sad, but true, that's just how my mind works. This whole "what do you think is the most important part of the book" or "how does this book translate into your life?" is not my cup of tea. Plus, I liked maybe two of the seven? books we had to read, so I'd be mentally checked out other than discussing the major themes of the plotline.

It sounds like I'm making excuses or justifying why I couldn't pay attention in class. I think I am. I'm glad to be done with grades soon. But until then I need to get my grades in order, quick.

I meant to write this to say that the end of the year is coming and I need to knock out a few outstanding papers and I started writing one and I just...cannot. I don't know what to write about, I didn't care for any of the books I actually made it through...I'm having writer's block at the most inconvient time for blockage. Academic writing, I quit you.

Blogging, I inted to keep you around forever.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Going Nowhere

I am being held prisoner in the world's busiest airport.

This morning, I actually tried to catch a 7am flight (standby, bitches) but it was full when I finally got up to the counter out of breath and sweaty. I cannot tell you the obstacles I had to overcome to fnally stumble to that gate, all for naught. I think I actually lost consciousness for a second when the guy said 'we're full." I wanted to collapse, spread-eagle in front of gate D21 and catch my breath/contemplate life, but somehow I did not.

My original flight was at 9:30am so I just chilled with my blackberry. However. That was oh, three hours ago as my flight has been delayed, mangled, chopped, screwed, thrown around and drop-kicked through the mud. I have no clue what's going on, let alone whether or not I'll make my connecting flight (somehow, I doubt it but hey).

I've found ways to amuse myself, of course. I assess people's traveling habits: comfortable in sweatpants vs. Stomping through the terminal in high heels and tight tops (stupid). People who piss and moan about the delays vs. Those who play amusing games such as this one to pass the time. I've seen the same cute airport worker push a massive trash can back and forth like eight times. Also seen many seating changes--some folks really cannot sit still. I want to say "dude the plane's not here standing in like will not make her come faster." I was saving a seat for this girl but the woman who came to take it looks like she's fought folks way bigger than me so I kept my mouth shut.

From my seat, I look at people's shoes, traveling companions, food choices, and have listened to the bartender across the aisle keep customers happy (she has a weird voice though). Speaking of, I could use a drink. It's 5pm somewhere and I've been through a lot today. Damn not being 21 yet.

This gate agents are totally incoherent. I'm sure they mean well and Southern State's tornado watch has not made their job easier but they are the Three Stooges.

Trying not to fall asleep and save my nap for the plane-if we ever get on it-but I'm exhausto. Plus I don't want to miss any of the changes that are bound to occur the second I close my eyes.

And the worst part is having no one to yuk it up with...I've been sitting in damn near silence for like three hours! But blogosphere (and twitter) you are here. Here you are. Never leave me.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Family Ties

This procrastination thing is really, really cool. You get to catch up on blogs, youtube if you're rebellious, check your transcripts, eat, watch a little TV, and reflect on life, all while your homework (and WARM COZY BED) waits patiently for your return.

Anyway, I have two younger sisters. We all look eerily alike. Middle Sister and I are quite different, though, as I've noticed (Plus, ohmigod, she's going to prom this year. We're three years apart. I am a geezer). Anyway, while these differences can sometimes be quite pronounced. She thinks Plies is cute. I do not (have you SEEN him? Ew. Never would I ever). She likes Cooler Ranch Doritos (blue bag), I like Classic (red bag). She's way more popular in high school than I ever was (even though, it must be said, my fewer friends were of better quality than her many acquaintances). She will have a date to prom. I did not.

That last one deserves a little exploration.

I didn't mind not having a date. I actually didn't even care until I noticed five people--an odd number--piling into the limo. My mother, however, was comically disturbed that I had to buy a single ticket. Well, there was nothing comical about the argument that ensued when she realized that not only was I dateless, but also not combing the dregs of my high school to find one. Yes, the boys that inhabited my high school were dreg-worthy, certainnly not date-worthy. She thought I was going dateless to spite her. I told her there was precious little I could do if no one asked to escort me to prom and it didn't bother me enough to go out and find one myself. And to this day I still can't imagine who I would've gone to prom with. So I figure it was meant to be. However, I also hope against hope that one's prom date isn't any indicator, of, like, who she's going to end up with later in life or anything, because then I am, to coin a phrase, ass-out.

But I have digressed.

When it comes to Middle Sister, I am pleasantly surprised to find that on some things, her and I are hilariously alike. Behold the rare similarities between the proverbial sisters Bookworm (me) and the Social Butterfly (her):

-Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Both of my sisters are picky eaters. I am not. But we could both live for days at a time on PB&Js. During the summer, we probably have.

-Rush Hour 2. Every time we head to a family function, I have this DVD in my purse so that when things get boring we can sneak into a bedroom and watch the antics of Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan. Seriously, me and her will sit and roar with laughter watching RH2. And "Rush Hour 3," come to think of it. Oh, and "Clueless." We grew up with that movie.

-Impressions. My comedy turnover ratio is about 60 percent, meaning that out of 10 things I think/say are funny, only six of them actually are. However, MS and I sit in the kitchen and recall events and imitate its characters for hours. It's how we bond. The same thing applies with movie lines--our quote battles are legendary.

Although I wouldn't be surprised if the aforementioned things were all MS and I have in common, obviously we like having each other around, if only simply for comedic purposes. Yes, she gets on my last nerves sometimes and I want to give her a good [bitchslap] pinch, she has my back and I have hers.

She still steals my clothes though. That's a trait 17 years in the making.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Basketball and Campy TV

All is well al momento. Ms. Politics and I actually ended up going to the game. Shimmy shimmy cocoa puff, shimmy shimmy OWW!

Never mind that I had to practically chase Ad Guy around campus and it took three--count them: me, Music Lover, and Top Chef--to execute this search-and-rescue mission for those damn tickets. Never mind.

After a day of shopping with Dr. Argentina and Cali Girl, Ms. P and I drove our arses downtown and took in the basketball game, people-watched (a specialty of mine), theorized about life, took pictures, got know, the usual.

Great Saturday. And Al and I are as deeply in love as ever, thanks for asking.

Am now indulging in my show du jour, The OC.** I know, right? Similar to the storied allegiances to either Prince or Michael Jackson or Nas or Jay-Z, TV watchers usually fall into one of two camps: One Tree Hill vs. The OC. (Except for Cali Girl, she likes both. But she [is a loser who] also entertains shows like The Gastineau Girls and that one about the Kardashians). As for me, Lucas, Peyton, and Naley rule my heart, until CG made me borrow her Season 1 DVD of the OC, which I reluctantly watched.

**Does anyone else watch?

Horror of horrors, my heart now belongs to Seth Cohen. He's quirky, smart, and he loves the holidays like I love the holidays. Which is a lot.

In the same vein, I hate that skinny heifer Marissa Cooper. I usually loathe blonde leading ladies on TV: Peyton Sawyer (sometimes), Serena van der Woodsen, and don't get me started on that whiny-ass Meredith Grey. YICK. Marissa is no different. I hate her.

But anyway.

The first season has held my interest for the last two weeks, hopefully the next season won't disappoint. If it does, I'm so going back to One Tree Hill.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Hoop Dreams Deferred

Working with men is exhausting. You have to stroke their egos, display the right amount of power and docility, easygoing-ness and firmness to get anything accomplished. Try as I might, I never get that formula right.

The Paper gets free tickets to NBA games through the Ad Guy. There are no rules or entitlement, if you want them, you ask for them. I was originally going to see the team take on the mighty (?) Pistons, but we left for spring break that day so I had to forfeit them. 'Twas sad. I decided to get the team vs. the San Antonio Spurs, so I texted Ad Guy, asking him to bring the tickets to our weekly meeting. I get no answer from him. I miss the game.

Next week he says that those tickets were unavailable anyway. Wondering why he couldn't have relayed this in a responding text, I say, "oh, okay, well, I'll take this weekend's tickets against the Orlando Magic." These tickets are also the last of the package. He agrees to bring them to me. I even told him that I had planned to take a date** to the game, which meant, thus and such, my love life depended on him bringing the tickets to me on Thursday (yesterday) because I don't come to campus on Fridays. He concedes, stoically (seriously, would it kill this guy to crack a smile?).

**Not technically a lie, since I was going with Ms. Politics. She has been my date on many a weekend.

Thursday comes, I text Ad Guy. No answer. I call him (well, I have Artist Friend call him from my phone--I think I annoy him with my generally upbeat nature). His phone goes straight to voicemail. He is not known to [show consideration/human emotion] return my texts or calls. It is early Friday morning. The game is on Saturday. The game to which I have no tickets. The game, it is probably safe to say, I will not be attending. No Al Horford sighting for me.

What fresh hell is with guys ruining my Saturday night plans?!

As far as Ad Guy knows, my hot date is now ruined. And on top of that, both of these times, I've taken off work to attend these basketball games. So not only is Ad Guy messing up my (ahem, still very fictional) love life, but he is costing me money!

And we can't have that. Not in this recession, baby.

Not to throw a pity party, but THIS IS TOTALLY UNFAIR. The other two sports editors got to go to games, why do I always get the short end of life's stick?

Next week, if I must say anything to Ad Guy, it will be in a "dignity at all times" sort of way. Maybe even in a "my date still put out SO THERE" sort of way. I honestly keep forgetting that I didn't have an actual date in the first place.

Semantics, really. It's the principle that counts.

Love Thy Neighbor

Right on and hallelujah.