You know when your friends get boyfriends and then you never hear from them anymore because they're always having sex or doing something "couple-y" and you just want to punch them in the face, but you can't because you never see them? Well, my blog feels that way about me. I've been virtually punched in the face at least 4 times this past month, so I figured it was time to write something obtuse and get this blog-bitch off my ass.
I love to write, but I feel I've lost my "Spiffy mojo" since I don't have much to bitch about any more. I'm in love and I'm feeling more positive about my job, so life is pretty good.
With that, I think I'll focus on random thoughts that may have crossed my mind recently. Are you ready?
- Would I still cuss like a sailor if I had kids? I mean, I know I wouldn't cuss around them, but I really, really like to cuss and I think I would secretly go into a closet and drop F-bombs just to remind myself of who I really am and how well "for fuck's sake" flows off my tongue.
- When someone points out to you "you really cuss a lot," are they trying to tell you that they are really a big pussy and can't handle the sweet, sweet sounds of my colorful language?
- I just wrote two bullet points about cussing. WTF is wrong with me? Damnit ... now three ...
- I went to watch my main squeeze umpire girls softball today and took a look around at all of the parents. Is it written somewhere that once you have kids in sports that 1) you turn into a mouthy, bitchy, know it all who thinks their kid does no wrong; 2) your sense of fashion and understanding how to buy properly fitting clothes goes straight out the door? Seriously, stop in front of a mirror before you leave the house, camel-toe.
- Why is it difficult for people to understand how fucking fabulous I truly am?
- I had a discussion with a stranger in the Phoenix Skyharbor Airport bathroom about how effing hot it is there and how every woman needs a crotch fan. Now I really, really want to be the inventor of the "Comfy Crotch." I named it, bitches, back off!
- Why is Times New Roman the most annoying font to read? Ugh.
That's all for now, friends. Happy Mother's Day to all of my favorite mommas out there! I hope none of you are breast feeding your three-year old, but if you are, I'm not judging, just saying "ew."
Last night I shared with you the love and warm-fuzziness I'm feeling from Mr. Angry Beer-Gut Dude. Leave it to Spiffy to piss some guy off to the point of spewing verbal bars after simply meeting for a few beers. Oh well. Fuck it.
Tonight, I'll share with you the tantalizing and (anti)climactic, yet true story of 'Mr. Lie About My Endname', or Mr. LAME. (I know...it was a stretch but it's the only way I could make the word 'lame' out of it...)
I met Mr. LAME a couple of weeks ago on Match. We got to know each other over Mexican food (my favorite way to get to know someone) and hit it off. You've probably figured this out about me while reading through my mind-candy; I have a hard time trusting or even liking people. Most of the time I think people are stupid. If I'm being honest.
Well, I liked Mr. LAME. He didn't set off any red flags; wasn't too nice, wasn't too much of a douche, wasn't too cocky, wasn't too clingly. He seemed cool and laid back...but then again, so did Jeffrey Dahmer. (Probably, I'm not sure. I never met the guy, but I bet he knew how to keep it cool right up to the time he ate his victims...).
I asked for LAME's last name, and he gave one to me. Turns out, it wasn't actually his last name. I found this out while conducting my usual background search on potential dates. Or Google search.
He gave me a few key pieces of information that allowed me to search and find out his real last name. I verified the real information when I found his FB and My Space page (yes...My Space does still exist).
While pondering why someone would lie about their last name, one of my super-sleuth girlfriends suggested I run his name through CaseNet, so I did. Thinking I would find nothing, imagine the shock and disbelief I felt when a rap sheet two-pages long popped up on the screen.
This man had several charges of stalking and domestic abuse, a paternity case, a few traffic cases. Now I know why he lied about his last name...
Thankfully, he hasn't contacted me in a few days, and not since I found all of this out. I wasn't sure how I was going to bring it up, but I think he's decided to cut and run instead of trying to stick around and spin a bigger web of deceit.
Online dating sucks. You never know who you'll meet and the ones who seem the coolest are (apparently) the biggest liars of all. Lucky for me, the experience provides me with tasty bits of goodness to blog about!
Be careful out there!
It's not easy being Spiffy. Sometimes people don't know how to take me and other times I don't know how to think before I speak. There's a fine line between funny and offensive and I typically find myself walking it on a daily basis. Most of the time I think I'm offensively funny, but unfortunately that doesn't work for some people. Be 100% sure that there is no fine line on this post. I'm letting my frustrations out!
I'm sure that there are many other people out there in the same boat. My fellow human beings who wonder about the meaning of life and whether they're living the life they should. My fellow human beings who are often mistreated, misplaced, and misunderstood (thanks, Pink!). My fellow human beings who find it hard to separate themselves into all of the compartments that people want to put them into. My fellow human beings who really just want to be happy and wonder why there are so many unhappy, haters in the world. My fellow human beings who just want to be all that they can be (outside of the Army) without being cut down at the knees. The more I write, the more I seem to relate to fucking Lady Gaga and her 'Little Monsters'. Damnit.
So, I'm using this post to send out a big FUCK YOU to all of the haters on all of our behalf.
FUCK YOU if you think it's OK to make someone feel bad about themselves in an effort to divert attention away from your shitty-self.
FUCK YOU for telling me that I'm not nice.
FUCK YOU for not appreciating me.
FUCK YOU for hurting my feelings and humiliating me.
FUCK YOU for pretending that you're my friend.
FUCK YOU for backing me into a corner that I can't get out of.
FUCK YOU for making me cry. FUCK YOU!
OK, that's enough of the outburst. It's now time to return to introspection and learning how to be a better person. Heaven forbid I offend one other person... :)
