now i’ve gone and done it.

Toll. House. Cookie. Sundae.

I hate you.

Lesson learned.

This is my life. True convo.

me: i’ve been dating for 15 years unfortunely

ive narrowed it down

lh:  True

Hahahaha

me:  sadly ive been dating for half my life

ive dated a lot of men

and i still havent found the one

scary

lh:  No…not scary at all

I think its great

me:  im sure ill be 50 when i get hitched

to an oldman who will surely die days later

lh:  Stop that

me:  thats ok

lh:  You will find someone

me:  im sure he will have a 401K and a will somewhere

ill be set

a few days of wedded bliss and shazaaamm like magic he’ll be gone

lh: Lmmfao

me:  then i can always say ” i was married once”

and i can live the dream

Oh Shit, Oh Shit & that awesome moment when I realized…Oh Shit.

Fuck.

Fuckitdy-fuck-fuck.

I really got myself into it now. As I often do. This time I am really not seeing a way out. This time its not 100% my fault. I blame it on social media. Well, just one person of social media. Nicole. I dont know Nicole in real life. I wish I did. I do know if I ever met her in public I’d kick her in the shins, then I’d take her out for a cupcake because I’d feel bad about kicking her in the shins. Just a little. She deserves the kick I assure you. Here. Go read this:

http://nicoleisbetter.com/alt-design-summit-another-episode-in-the-nicole-likes-eating-in-the-bathtub-saga-and-the-opportunity-to-help-someone-else-turn-their-big-scary-dream-into-a-reality

In short, Nicole is a monster from hell that was placed here just to destroy my life or make me become incredibly awesome. Verdict is still out.

The long version is somehow I join a running club. Not only did I join but I think I am a founding member.  I posted in the comments section that I would like to run a half marathon. I must have been drinking when I thought this was a good idea. And low and behold 2 ladies have come forward to say they live close by and would like to run together.

Next thing you know: wham,bam,thankyouma’am I’m all up in a running group.

Did I mention Oh Shit?

Osh Kosh ‘Bagosh ND Part – 1

Oh man. I am from the Northeast. Land of the bitter cold, the blizzards, walking up hills both ways to school with potato sacks for underwear. North Dakota 1. NoIt’sYou 0.

I started my trek to ND on Sunday. I sacrificed a perfectly sunny cloudless sky in Boston to start my conference week in North Dakota. Two years ago it was in Charlotte, last year was New Orleans and this year they decided to pick no mans land North friggin’ Dakota. WTF. I don’t know if it was a the lousy service at the airport or sitting next to the crying 1 year old on the plane with the poopy diaper but I think this set the tone for my trip.

I finally land in ND at the 4 gate airport no I did not mean 4 terminals, I meant 4 gates airport and make my way down to ground transportation only to find out there are no cabs. NO. CABS. um, how am I suppose to get to the hotel? Oh, use the  courtesy phone and call the local shuttle. Great. I then made the mistake of asking for an ATM machine. Apparently the only machine in the airport is the one by the terminals once you have already been through security. The one man security line.  I get to the hotel and immediately ask the front desk to have my packages brought to me at my company’s trade show booth. Great, i thought things were looking up. wrong. so wrong. the freight guy is also the shuttle bus guy and i would have to wait for him to come back from his airport run to retrieve my boxes. no problemo. i can wait.

While passing the time I decided to go exploring in “downtown”. Not even close Bismarck. I almost got run over my half a dozen pick-up trucks while crossing in the designated sidewalk even though the lights told me I could walk. Some *lovely* actually had the courtesy to stop and ask ” you aren’t from around here little lady are ya?”. ” no sir” what gave it away? My Louis Vuitton bag, my Betsy Johnson sunglasses, my Vineyard Vines flip flops, the movado watch or was it the pearls? I personally think it was a combination. I did manage to scout out my method of survival. TARGET. Thank the lord!

how i use to torment my mother

I am wiped today. Like not its Tuesday wiped like wiped I got in at 1.40 am and stayed up until 3 am and got a shit-tac-ular fucking night sleep in a stinky armpit, tossed and turned all night, then accidently woke up an hour early thinking I was running late wiped. I tossed my ass back into bed for another hour then slumped my way into the shower and carried on with my regular morning routine.

On the MBTA this morning I saw a younger girl about 14 dressed like a goth street hooker. Heavy black eyeliner, super short shorts, black tee-shirt with rips, neon fish net stockings, a gazillion necklaces, a side slung bag, obnoxious cow chomping on gum sound emitting from her pie hole. If I dressed like or was seen in public like that I think Kathleen would have murdered me. Then I got to thinking about all the crap I put Kathleen through in my teenage years.

Dying my hair Clarie Dane’s my so-called life maroon, pierced my own ears at work, used brace elastics to move my two front teeth together even though I didn’t have nor need braces, insisting that the only car i ever wanted was a teal green geo tracker with pink pinstripe, powerpuff girl seat covers and furry steering wheel that was standard even though i had no-fucking-clue how to drive stick, would only bring bread and yogurt butter sandwiches for lunch, swearing up and down she tried to ruin my life on purpose, would only wear the same pair of jeans every day, stole her bra before she let me buy my own, convincing her i needed to shave my legs in the 5th grade, picking my nose and hiding it under my bed then blaming it on my brother, dressing up my brother in make-up (hi jon!), hiding clothes and wrappers under my bean bag chair because i was too lazy to throw them in my trash barrel,  demanding that i *had* to walk to 7-11 at 10pm because everyone else was there, putting actually kahula in my coffee coolata from dunkin donuts and telling her it was the kahula flavored one!, driving my friend’s car even though i only had my permit, joining the flag squad just so we could hang in the auditorium way late and make out in the rafters, having to have a pager because my life depended on it, and generally hating her for every second of my life.

My poor mother, how did she ever put up with me? Free child-care. That explains why I am still alive.

Chocolate Tour, A ‘more? No thanks.

I got invited to go to an awesome chocolate tour at the last-minute on Saturday. http://bostonchocolatetours.com/  Naturally I enlisted help from the blondetourage. Shan was my date. I should have know that making an impression would be accomplished, just not the type I was hoping for. I met Shan at Godiva in Faneuil Hall and of course I was late, per usual. We started here and ate the most delicious truffles. We also found out how Godiva got their logo and the true meaning of peeping tom. It has to do with taxes and a naked woman with blonde hair. My kind of story; no, I’m not a lesbian. After half an hour here we were already in a chocolate coma and Shan fell out of the store trying to leave. Literally. Fell. Out. Of. The. Store. Strike 1.

We then moved to wagamama and had perfectly delectable chocolate cake. Next up was Sprinkles where we had their most chocolately chocolate ice cream topped with their homemade hot fudge. Then was onto Sprinkles sister shop where we had different chocolate baked treats, cookies and chocolate covered macaroons. My Papa would have loved them.

We started our walk over to the north end to partake in the second half of the tour. The woman walking behind Shan quietly pulled her aside to let her know that the umbrella she was carrying just in case it started to rain was in fact hiking up her dress exposing her buttock to all of the tourist and members of the tour walking behind her. Strike 2. At this point our guide decided it was a good time to take a break along the Rose Kennedy Greenway http://www.rosekennedygreenway.org/. I went to sit down on a stone bench and fell. It was far lower to the ground then I suspected. Strike 3. So Shan is flashing her ass and I can’t sit down. Our tour guide at this point actually asked us if we were sisters or at least related. No ma’am unfortunately not. If we were Siamese twins I would cry for our liver.

We finally pulled ourselves together and moved on to the second part of our tour which included three bakeries where we consumed chocolate covered gummi bears, chocolate cupcakes, chocolate cream frosting, and fudge at lulus’ http://www.yelp.com/biz/lulus-bake-shoppe-boston, lyndells http://lyndells.com/, marias http://www.northendboston.com/marias/. The tour commenced and Shan and I rolled ourselves to the bar.

Where did you expect us to go?

While we were stuffing our already too fat dresses with mojitos, dirty martinis extra dirty and spinach and artichoke dip we saw our tour guides who thanked us for one of the more memorable tours they have conducted.

So I guess we did make an impression, exactly as planned.

As we are giggling away an elderly man who looked like he escaped from fraggle rock stopped at our table. He pushed a piece of crumbled up dirty notepad paper into my hand and said call me Monday sweet heart and as I tried to shove the paper back into his hand he scrambled away squawking “I’ll make it worth your while”. Really, FRANK you will? Because I am sure your 70-year-old ass can’t, go home, write-up some more pieces of paper with your phone number already on them and find some other hookers to sass with your “I’ll make it worth your while” attitude. Thanks for playing.

Really, how do I attract these people?

Yes, we plan our facebook stance in a group

4 blondes: noitsyou, linds, shan and JM. One ex boyfriend: Rhymes with odd.

odd:  is noitsyou hot
 Sent at 1:57 PM on Friday
 shan:  noitsyou who? what are you talking about?
 odd:  you and linds friend
 shan:  how do you know about noitsme?
 Sent at 2:04 PM on Friday
 shan:  creeeeeepy
 odd:  (creepy smiley face)
 shan:  no but really. explain yourself

Responses that ensued.

JM:Tell him to get a hobby.

shan: I am literally creeped out right now. what a freak.

Linds: Seriously….does he have to be such a DIRT BAG?! I’m with JM..tell him to get a hobby and to stop facebook talking our pages

noitsyou: Is this your first or second ex husband? I always get them confused.

shan: NO! thats the best part! he DELETED ME!

Linds: So he is stalking through my page… should I limit profile him or block him?

JM: That means he can still see your pics! Make them private to your friends only!!!

noitsyou: He deleted you and he is stalking me. Why didn’t you keep him?

shan: Whatever, I think its hilarious….. what is wrong with him???

noitsyou: I love stalkers, I always find them funny.

linds: This is the second guy to stalk you from my facebook page…. serrrriously

noitsyou: Why do stalkers flock to me? Two guys from facebook. That guy in NY on the first night and that freak and his pal from tighttight or justmarried.com?

shan: you just have that stalker sec appeal i guess!

noitsyou: I  just always attract the weirdos. Like mosquitoes to oily Italians.

I think now I understand why I am 27 and still live at home with my parents. Is it martini time yet?

The day I crossed the line.

Here in Boston there are Dunkin Donuts on every corner. Literally every. If you ain’t drinking Dunkin’ you ain’t from Boston; except for when you are drinking Starbucks. I love their Americanos with the soy milk cold on the side. I wasnt a fan when they switched soy milks. The new one tastes a little funky. Nothing I can’t cover up with a little bit of sweet n’ low (yes mom I know it causes cancer) and chocolate powder.

So, Dunkin’ donuts. All across the Northeast DD is being protested by their drivers. Not enough pay, not enough hours, not enough donuts. I am sure their cause is great. But when the bottomless pit that is my stomach starts growling I will cross your picket line. Shocker.

I trudge to the elevators and head outside and am overpowered by their music and large in charge man on the megaphone. Come hell or high water I am getting my egg and cheese croissant. I start attempt to cross their 3 person deep line and I am bombarded with hot sweaty men begging me not to go in. 

“Dunks is closed.” “Only Starbucks today!” “There is a restaurant down the street”.

No thanks.

“Come on sweetie just for today”

I don’t see you rolling out of bed to make me breakfast.

I went in, was greeted with smiles, got my delicious sandwich which was hot and toasty. Upon leaving a large hippo like woman was in my way on the sidewalk. I tried to step around her. She moved her dress suit clad body into my way again. Again I tried to step around her. The broad tried to trip me! So I looked the deadly beast in her eye raised my manicured hand and said :

“That was rude of you. I’m eating here everyday this week.”

I was too busy walking away to hear Hippos reaction. It sounded like a groan or a grunt but it could have been her legs collapsing from all the bodily movements she just put herself through. See you tomorrow; that is if you don’t go into cardiac arrest in a mere matter of minutes.

Phone Calls From my Mother

:: setting: work; caller id informs me right off the bat it’s my mother::

“Ya?”

“Two words for you. Plastic Applicators.”

“Okay, what about them?”

“Kurt is going to murder you.”

” He always wants to kill me. How is this any different than any other day?”

“He called the septic tank guy to come and empty the tank. Guess what they found.”

“You already gave away the answer.”

“Plastic Applicators. HUNDREDS OF THEM.”

“How do you know they were mine?”

“They weren’t mine, the obviously werent Kurts or your brothers that I know of. Brie isnt at the point yet. That leaves only one person.”

“Jons girlfriend. That bitch.”

“Wrong. You do it again and I am going to ring your neck.”

“No one told me we had septic!”

“You have lived here for 6 years. How did you not know?”

“Um, so no applicators at all or just no plastic ones?” 

“Good-bye Kaitlin”

I’ll put it on my blog… oh wait

For the past two weeks I have been walking around making mental notes of all the stories that inspired me to start a blog. Plastic Applicators. Hymen. Keyboard. How do you even spell hymen? Milk Breaks. Waving at ducks. They are all so good, I dont know where to start. The Hammer. The Notebook (not the sad Nicholas Sparks movie which was NOTHING like the book, sad.). So many stories so little time.

While waiting to leave the office with that whose name I’d rather not say I decided to make my first entry. HOORAY, now…. blog where did I put you? CRAP, I am the worst blog owner ever. I started you a two whole weeks ago and I need to do a google search to find you.  Peoples entries to google scare me. Let’s review:How do you not know how to sleep? Really, who wants to factor. Desperate much…asking google how to french kiss?  You are asking google how to fight; good luck kid! Oh people of google.