Category Archives: personal

He’s Just Not That Into You!

Ok I know this film came out a long time ago.

However, the fact that I have ADD, and, like, a life, means that I rarely get to see films, much less romantic comedies.  That said, I meant to see this film FOREVER, because it is one of my favourite books and probably the reason why all of my girl friends’ boyfriends hated me in college.  Whateva.

Anywho. The film was supa funny and is now one of my favourite films because it was hilariously awkward…in fact, it was even TOO AWKWARD at times.  Remember that I have a high awkwardness threshold friends, so when I say it was intense, I mean this bitch was whack.

Anyway, because I LOVE this book and because apparently some bitches is whack, I am devoting this posting to all my crazy bitches out there.

And in case you were wondering, my love of this book stems from the fact that I dated a guy who was just not that into me for about three years. I know, how tragic.

Well this is why I now like to run my mouth about keeping men in line, because sadly I failed to get the point that homeboy was not into me for way too long, and I know I’m not the only one who has done this.

About the book: it is set up according to excuses.  It is outlined by the excuses guys make because making excuses is easier than saying “I’m just not that into you.” As they put it in the book: He is a man made up entirely of your excuses.  And the minute you stop making excuses for him, he will completely disappear from your life.

Unfortunately, I do not know where my copy of this book is, I may have given it away or it may be in storage, so I obtained some excerpts and interpreted them accordingly.  You’re welcome.

The “He Is Super Busy Right Now” Excuse

Don’t let the “honeys” and the “babys” fool you.  His sweet nothings are exactly that.  They are much easier to say than “I’m just not that into you.”  Remember, actions speak louder than, “There’s no cell reception where I am right now.”

Calling when you say you’re going to call is the very first brick in the house you are building of love and trust.  If he can’t lay this one stupid brick down, you ain’t never gonna have a house, baby.  And it’s cold outside.

The “But He Just Needs Some Time” Excuse

Cut your losses and don’t waste your time .  Why stay in some weird dating limbo when you can move on to what will surely be better territory? Don’t want to hear it?  Fine.  Here’s the answer you’re looking for, “Hang in there, baby.  He’s not the loser everybody’s telling you he is.  If you wait and keep your mouth shut and call at exactly the right time and anticipate his moods and have no expectations about communication or your own sexual needs, you can have him!”  But please don’t be surprised if he dumps you or continues to drag you through a completely unsatisfying relationship.

The “He Is Just Shy” Excuse

Men, for the most part, like to pursue women.  We (men) like not knowing if we can catch you.  We feel rewarded when we do.

The “He Is Worried About Damaging The Friendship” Excuse

He will always be able to play the “friend” card on you.  He only  has to be responsible for the expectations of a friend, rather than the the far greater expectations of a boyfriend.  He’s got the ultimate situation: a great friend with all the benefits of a girlfriend, whom he can see or not see whenever he wants to.  He may be one of your closest friends, but I’m sorry to say … as a boyfriend, he’s just not that into you.

Beware of the word “friend”.  It can often be used by men or the women that love them to excuse the most unfriendly behavior.  Personally, when I’m picking friends, I like the ones who don’t make me cry myself to sleep.

The “He Wants To Take It Slow” Excuse

I don’t want to be “sort of dating” someone.  I don’t want to be “kinda hanging out” with someone.  I don’t want to spend a lot of energy suppressing my feelings so I appear uninvolved.  I want to be involved.  I want to be sleeping with someone I know I’ll see again because they’ve already demonstarted to me that they’re trustworthy and honorable — and into me.

Alright I think my place in Heaven has now been reserved.  Please think about these wise words from Liz and Greg the next time your lova starts acting up, and if you are into praying or that sort of thing, I’d appreciate you putting in a good word for me because I have been sinning a lot lately and I am a little concerned.

x C

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big ups to my rodent friends

Today has been a very tragic day for me.

Basically, I grew up with five brothers.  It was pretty chill, except when I wanted to talk about flowers and princesses.  Enter my need for other friends.  So, after watching a number of Disney films, I decided that if I was nice enough to animals, they’d start speaking to me and become my friends…

sadly I am still working on this lifelong quest!  Apparently creatures are quite shy!

Sometimes my deep and enduring love for animals causes problems.

Like when I spent much of my free time during college collecting mouse traps around my dormitory and befriending the ‘pests’ – my friends quite enjoyed retelling these tales.  Once they got over their anger.

Also, LIKE TODAY.

I was at work when suddenly my coworker started screeching as though she’d taken a ninja star to the external jugular.  Accordingly, I ignored her.  Thus, she got up in my grill and explained that she’d seen a mouse and was pretty much grossly overreacting.  That said, I’m not going to lie, I am freakishly afraid of bugs, to the point where I actually moved house after seeing one because I became terrified of the place.  So yeah, I’ve got some crazy related to little unwanted houseguests (a term I coined/copyrighted in France because I didn’t know the word for mouse!  Terribly cleva, I know!) so I felt her pain.

However, I think mice are adorable and awesome little friends – but homegirl disagreed and wanted to get a mouse trap.  SO I offered to go, because I wanted to at the very least find a trap that would keep my new little buddy safe until we were reunited!

This is where things get really sad, so please be prepared with Kleenex…

when I got to the store, things took a very evil turn.  THERE WERE NO ‘HAVE A HEART’ TRAPS.  At this point, I felt I had a moral obligation to my coworker who was probably freaking out like a madwoman in my absence, and I knew going to another retail location would be unfair to her and her unnecessary anxiety.

SO, I HAD TO BETRAY THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.

Believe me friends, this gave me no joy, and I feel very guilty for this harsh backstabbing of my little mousey friend.

I really feel I had no choice but I would like to request that all who read this purchase the NON-HOMICIDAL traps if you find yourself dealing with some little animals in the future, AS A PERSONAL FAVOUR, SO THE COSMIC BALANCE OF THE UNIVERSE CAN BE RESTORED.

Thanks and have a great day!

x C

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blogheads and blogcrushes and blogmances, oh my!

OKay not to worry, if you read my other post about “Alternative Engineering”, an explanation is coming!  I just have to write it…I’m working on some things that relate to that sort of mumbo-jumbo, so I thought I’d post some of it on here to see what feedback it got!

BUT today I am posting about my transition to the virtual world.

I’m quite embarrassed to admit this, but I am feeling a little bit middle-school-esque about revealing my recent leap into the ‘blogosphere’ (aka the gayest word of all time. Seriously, name one that is more lame in a really late-90s way.)  Even worse, I’m pretty sure I’d be shunned if I revealed my love of twitta.  Not really–but do I really want to defend my use of it?  Not really.  SO I just keep my trap shut.

Anyway along with the idea of things I’d never thought I would do (like starting a blog), I NEVER thought I’d even consider meeting an “internet friend” or anything like that.  This brings me to my next point–tomorrow, a bunch of my favourite bloggers are going to be in my neck of the woods.  But, I mean, what??  For all I know they could be a pack of pirates from Somalia, or eyeball-eating zombies, or some other extremely plausible shit like that.

BUT they’re all really hilarious in writing and probably cool people.  I just don’t know if I can bring myself to do something that seems so bizarre and unnatural to me (I know most people–or at least most people that would read this–probably don’t feel that way, but we must remember, I am not generally a tech-y chick!)

Another even more sad thing that I did not anticipate experiencing (and was unaware of the existence of) is a blog crush.  One of the first blogs I read was about a guy struggling with the ladies, and it was supa funny and written in an endearing manner.  Once I got over my personal embarrassment for such an absurd thing, it was no longer relevant BECAUSE homeboy hooked up with a girl whose blog I also read!  Yeah, wrap your mind around that one, blogheads.  Blogga-word is kinda like Martha’s. Except way weirder.

So I read both of these people’s blogs, and a) it feels a little weird/voyeuristic to be reading their impressions of a relationship that they’re both involved in AND know the other person reads.  I mean, I don’t think any relationship theorists accounted for these sorts of things when developing their notions about relationships…

and b) it seems like they’re both a little crazy.  I mean, would you EVER fly halfway across the country to meet someone you knew from THE INTERNET?  And maybe that’s romantic.  Fine.  But now the girl has gone back several times (in only a few weeks?) and wrote a blog post about how she wants to move…I mean, again, what?!  You’re really going to leave your life behind for someone you have known PERSONALLY for a very short time?

Maybe I’m cynical, but I’m starting to think there are some REAL nuts running around blogga world.  And hey, I’m far from sane (just ask my psychiatrist), but reading some of this shit is difficult for me to process any further than ‘holy shit, these people are so far outside my frame of reference (aka me) that I don’t even know what to think!’

But it’s entertaining! :) :) :)

Personally , I could never date someone who read my blog, because clearly most of the nonsense I ramble about on here is like one hundredth date material.  Or after you have realised one of you is pro-pirate and the other is pro-ninja, and you decide you still like each other. Or something.

Lover is on my case about reading this shizz, but mark my words blogheads, that will NEVER HAPPEN.  EVER.

Why?  Mostly because I like how funnily he acts regarding it.  Like it contains some sort of mysterious, ancient code.

The point is, blogs are very bizarre things, and I’m still trying to form my impressions of blogga world–it’s strange that blogs are relatively intimate ways of knowing someone, yet not knowing them at all, no?

I think it’s the latter part that is easy to forget, or sweep under the rug…hence the fact that a “blogmance” is probaby skewed from the start, since one’s conception of how well they know the other person is somewhat likely to be confused.  This might explain the behaviour of our zealous friends in bloglove.

OR maybe I’m just incredibly cynical and can’t accept that “love happens in many different ways” (or something else Meg Ryan would have typed in You’ve Got Mail.)

In other news, I’m getting geared up for my FAVOURITE HOLIDAY!  CINCO DE MAYO.  It is coming friends!  I encourage you to begin the celebratory procedures early.

Have a fab weekend!

x C

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it’s not easy being green: yes, we cannabis

Stealthy as a socialist,

It slithers up our shores,

Turning all our children into hooligans and whores!!

Please enjoy a clip from one of the best films ever made:

Yup, this posting is about weed.


I’m not sure I have explicitly stated this, but I am a fan of the green.  Before you dismiss me as another stoned slacker, (which, to be sure, I wish I were), I actually don’t smoke pot anymore on any sort of regular basis, if ever.  However, I was quite the pothead back in the day.  Don’t judge me.  All the cool kids were doing it.

Thus, the green has a special place in my heart, and I hate that it has been so mistreated.

During one particularly bong-hit ridden day during college, I took it upon myself to venture to the biomedical library to do a little research.  You see, I had been smoking mary j mutiple times per day for a few years, and the thought occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t the best idea.  Yes, it took me a few years to even conceive of this notion.  What can I say–I was too busy focusing on visual stimuli.

But why is smoking pot a bad idea?  I’m very much the sort of person who does things unless I can think of a good reason why not to do them–I feel that life is meant to be an experience and therefore pretty much any experience in worthwhile in my book.  But, I digress.

I went to the library to find the straight dope (pun intended-I’m so fucking clever) on cannabis. The biomedical library was a majestic place because it allowed one access not only to published information, but also to research that was in progress or not published, for whatever reason (I obviously objectively evaluated the validity of the articles I read to be sure that if it was not published, it was not due to erroneous data/procedure/etc).  And the bottom line is: I found out that pot really isn’t all that bad for you.  In terms of long-term effects, it has less than I had previously thought–and there were even marked POSITIVE effects of THC.  Fancy that, bitches! (Government bitches, that is.)

Nerd moment: because I am feeling a little ambitious today, I am going to share with you two things.  One: in the case of neurodegenerative/neuroinflammatory disorders, cannabinoids are a helpful therapeutic intervention (Gordon, Jabri, and Underwood, 2006).  Two:  Although multiple studies have found impairments in multiple areas of functioning whilst under the influence (like, duh),  the effects of long-term, frequent use remain inconclusive–that is, there are findings that dispute one another (Messinis, 2006).

In other words–pot has been proven to have some positive effects, and its possible (alleged) negative effects have not been clearly/properly/extensively documented.

Yet…it’s still illegal.

The illegality brings in all sorts of sociopolitical considerations when one chooses to burn the devil’s leaves–and guess what those considerations usually do?  Kill one’s buzz, obviously.

So what is the solution?

That is an interesting conundrum.  I don’t know that there is one.  My friends and I were discussing the fact that LOTS of people smoke pot…and I do mean LOTS…yet no one really wants to openly talk about it or try to effect change in this arena.  I can’t say I’m too keen on the idea of publicly associating my name with reefer–even though I love it like a pothead loves cake.

And why is that?  Because of closeminded, judgemental people.

The general idea that pot is SO terrible is not even founded, and actually causes more problems than it counteracts, in my opinion.  A perfect example is the fact that for many professions, random drug testing is involved.  THC stays in one’s system at detectable levels far longer than other harder drugs…I have had friends actually tell me that they stopped smoking pot because of drug testing, only to start hitting up the yay pretty hard.  Now THAT is effective substance control.  BRAVO, strategists for the ‘war on drugs’.

All of this said, I know some people reading this will write me off as some crazed stoner.  It boggles my mind that people in our society can possibly be so judgemental about marijuana, yet think nothing of the exorbitant amount of prescription drugs being prescribed after extremely minimal evaluation, or even the incredible prevalence of alcohol use in our society.

I can’t precisely recall where I got this idea (so it may or may not be based upon fact, although I’m 80% sure it is, hah!) but I am under the impression that the short-term stresses of alcohol upon the body, as well as the long-term effects of prolonged indulgence in adult beverages, put more physiological strain on the body than marijuana use.  I think this is true to a certain extent neurologically as well, but at the very least, alcohol and marijuana are comparable in terms of the scope of their effects on the brain.

Subjectively, I can say wholeheartedly that I have never done things I regret whilst stoned (not the case when I get my hands on too many tequila shots), and to be frank, I don’t feel as ‘fucked up’ whilst stoned as I do when I am drunk.  In fact, a significant reason why I am such a fan of the pot is the fact that it stimulates me cognitively, and has thereby caused me to have really interesting experiences, whereas alcohol causes intoxication through the inhibition of cognitive function–yielding some experiences that could be called ‘interesting’ in a different sense entirely.

This is by no means an exhaustive examination or discussion, as I think there are multiple other scientific (i.e. biological/physiological/neurological) facets of pot smoking, as well as various sociopolitical elements of the issue–these are just my immediate thoughts on the subject, as for me, writing in my weblog is a way of organizing my thoughts more than it is an attempt to construct a properly written assessment! Even so, I hope that if you actually read this whole thing, you found it (somewhat? mildly?) informative and as intriguing at I tend to!

(And, for the record, I don’t advocate smoking pot in excess, because anything in excess is not a good idea.  And furthermore, in case you’re wondering, a major reason why I don’t smoke pot anymore is because I observed changes in certain areas of cognitive function which were consistent with the documented effects of long-term chronic marijuana use…so I’m not saying it’s all good.  I just think the demonisation of the practice of toking up is too much.)

What are your thoughts on this issue?

xx Charlee

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Then what? My boobs are too big?

True story–I once got dumped for loving the film from which this awesome line was taken (aka Legally Blonde). He just could not get over it.

Clearly, I do not think it is a brilliant film, but I think the message is important–kind of muffled by the fact that the main character fails to exhibit any clear sign of intelligence, but an important message nonetheless.  That is, that you should not judge a book by its cover.

My freshman year of college, I found out halfway through the year that the girls from my hall called me ‘Barbie’ behind my back.  It was very hurtful, especially when I heard some of the really malicious things they’d said.  In fact, it still upsets me…I didn’t do anything to them, and yes I enjoy the color pink, but to be so needlessly bitchy is just so wrong in my book.

My point is–I can relate to the character in that film, because I feel like I constantly have to deal with people’s incorrect premature assessments and after a while, it gets old. Like, REALLY FUCKING OLD.

What I mean is…people are constantly treating me like I’m dumb. This isn’t a projection either, because one half of the time, they’re verbally telling me that ‘it’s okay if I just don’t get it’ or something along those lines–and the other half of the time, they’re in utter shock (sometimes even telling me so) when they get a chance to see that their perceptions of me are wrong.

So I can’t figure out what it is that makes people get this impression of me.  Is it the fact that I’m actually rather dim?  Have people just been being nice to me? I don’t know…intelligence is such an odd thing, and there’s probably nothing more difficult than attempting to assess one’s own level of it.  However, I tend to think this is not the case based upon the only objective information I have, which would be testing I’ve had done by a psychologist…which indicated that I’m somewhat of a smarty.  So, granting that I’m reasonably intelligent (though we’ll never know for sure), what is it that makes people think otherwise?

I think part of it could be that I’m a bit goofy, and giggly, and as a friend so affectionately put it, ‘bubble-headed’–I don’t fancy myself an airhead, but I also don’t jump at every opportunity to showcase my intelligence.  Not saying I have this great degree of intelligence, as perhaps I’m really dense and unaware of it, but in my experience, people are generally rather eager to assert themselves in this manner.  It’s just not my thing.

Still, although not particularly serious, I don’t think my behaviour gives any indication that I’m dumb.

So what is it?

Well, I’m sorry to say it, but I think I’m slowly starting to believe that people judge books by their covers.  Maybe I am naive to have not realised it sooner?

There are many reasons why I think this, but I’ll give you one big example–I have always had the biggest problem with uber-intense math/science nerds (as in, science nerds that are +2 sds from the mean).  I say the word “nerds” in the nicest way possible because I am a total geekette and actually took offense to it when my lover questioned my nerdiness.  But that is not the point.   The point is, I’m making a generalization about my experiences with a particular group of people–a group of people whom I have found, on the whole, to be quite socially awkward, not especially attractive, and really, probably lacking in certain aspects of their lives.  This is not an analysis I made prematurely, or out of spite, as I have been dealing with these people for a long time, and I treat them as I would anyone else…and once I get to know them, most of them are really cool people.  HOWEVER, it is my belief that this particular sort of person so values their intelligence as being exceptional, and is so psychologically invested in it in terms of self-esteem, that coming upon someone who does not share their more negative traits, but does share their most valued trait, is just too much for them to handle.  Therefore, in accordance with the theory of cognitive dissonance, they decide that said person (i.e. me) could not possibly be as intellectually capable as they are.

Sexual frustration is not a pretty thing.

I’m working on a research project right now–because I was ASKED, mind you, not because I wanted to do it, because it is not in my area of expertise.  Nonetheless, I thought it would be fun–and it is.  Difficult, but fun.  However, a few of my colleagues are really not very nice to me and I don’t know how to deal with it–perhaps I am not 100% as qualified as they are (since some of them ARE pseudo-experts in this area) but the bottom line is, we’re all doing the same shit, meaning none of us are complete imbeciles.  Yet whenever I ask a question, their facial expressions and excessively simplistic explanation suggest that they think I’m completely clueless.  Just yesterday, I questioned a colleague’s (negative) analysis of something I’d done, only to have him look it over and tell me that I did indeed do it properly, and he was sorry because he’d ‘just assumed I had no idea what was going on’–you ASSUMED I had no idea what was going on?  Did you even LOOK AT my work?

MORAL OF THE STORY: DO NOT JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER, BLOGGA BUDDIES

Okay, rant over.  I’m just sick of people harshing my chill, you know?

xx Charlee

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The Bubble

Did anyone see 30 rock this week?  I absolutely love that program–The Office was really the only television show I was into, and then I realised that not watching Tina Fey’s program when I have an EPIC girl crush on Tina Fey was just odd.   The point is, YOU SHOULD WATCH IT! (Or at least tivo it with sincere intentions.)

I digress.  In this episode Tina (or Liz as I believe she is called on the show) was dating this doctor who thought he was a magnificent cook, a fabulous tennis player, blah blah bnlah blah…well it came to light that he actually sucked at everything.  Everyone was just being nice to him because he’s a sexy docta!

As of late I have been having a bit of an identity crisis and this episode made me wonder if I, too, have been living in a bubble.

This started last weekend.  I had to spend time with Lover’s awful sister.  His whole family is lacking in coolness if you ask me (and just in case you DO read this my dear, please remember that loving someone does not mean loving their family! :) ) but homegirl takes the fucking cake.  She tells these exasperatingly long stories and really just rubs me the wrong way.  Generally, I make a lot of effort to avoid people that don’t please me…but this is one thing I could not get out of.

Every time I said something, it was like she had this whole story about why what I said was wrong, or how I should rethink what I said.  I mean, honestly?  I know I have a big mouth.  I know that may be bothersome at times…but I’m over it.  We all have our idiosyncrasies, and it is what it is.  Why the hell does she even care what I like?   I don’t expect anyone else to agree with me or think in the same manner…and even though I might not like certain things, it doesn’t mean I dislike the PEOPLE associated with them. Everyone is different, bitch! Come off it!

She was just so utterly bothersome, but I think I’ve made my point that we just didn’t get on well.

However, she is a bit tricky, because she succeeded in making me think about some of the things that she said to me, almost a week later–and this is why I avoid people who have studied psychology extensively.  I had a lover who also did, and like homegirl, he used his knowledge mostly for EVIL.

So now I’m wondering if I, too, have lived in a bubble which only includes people who love me…and it’s true, I really hate interacting with people whom I have not endeared myself to in one way or another.

Now I feel that many of my perceptions could just be reflections of people telling me what I want to hear!  What a horrific thought!

I think we all have our own bubbles to some extent, but perhaps some people are more insulated, so to speak, than others.

What do you think?  Do you believe in the idea of ‘The Bubble’ confusing your self-concept?  Do you think YOU live in a bubble?

I’d love to know!

x C

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f my life

Firstly, if you have missed out on the brilliance of this website, then I suggest you check out fmylife.com!  It is quite hilarious, and totally my sense of humour, as there is nothing I find more amusing that the absurdity of everyday life.

Secondly…my apologies for being a delinquent blogga.  I spent the majority of last week paying for my one day of freedom with extreme productivity and also dealt with a bit of an internal conflict regarding the concept of keeping a weblog.  But I’m chillin’ now…so it is all good.

Thirdly, the past week or so has been overflowing with manly misadventures so  I suppose I shall update you on what has gone down!

I made the rainbow cake (which will be a tale for another day) for Mason and he kind of freaked out…he made such a big deal out of it that I didn’t really know what to say or do.  I am generally immune to awkwardness, but I didn’t really think it was a huge deal, and he acted like I’d given him a kidney.  Marley told me this was because I was ‘clearly declaring my love for him, à la Napoleon Dynamite’ (in the film Napoleon’s sidekick with a poor grasp of the English language, Pedro, suggests that in order to ask a girl to a dance, Napoleon “bake her a cake or something”).  This left me feeling like a big dork, a sentiment that was only made worse the day after Mason’s party when my coworker Theresa commented that Mason ‘looked like he was going to cry’ when I gave him the cake.  Not exactly the reaction I was going for.

This strange situation was further compounded by the fact that I had to work Saturday night–I had volunteered to work on Valentine’s Day because I’m not the biggest fan of said cheesefest and especially of the behaviour it tends to induce in Mr. Martini, although I was no more interested in spending the “holiday” with any of the other men in my life right now.  Not to mention, I knew most of my coworkers were in relationships so I thought it would be nice if they could have the night off to recite poetry and listen to Sinatra.  See, I’m not entirely bitter!

However, Mason switched shifts with someone so that we could work together Saturday night…so that ‘my Valentine’s Day wouldn’t completely suck’.  I thought this was very sweet, and was quite excited that we’d be spending the evening together–even if it were to be spent at work.  After the cake incident, though, I was a bit weirded out about this, especially since he has a girlfriend–I imagine they are on the verge of breaking up, but nonetheless, I’m not trying to spend singles awareness day with someone who is not single…

Then there’s Mr. Martini, who spent the weekend here despite my numerous reminders that I would not be available on Saturday, and true to form, planned a super over-the-top date for Friday night.

Unfortunately, one of my very best friends was dumped by her EVIL boyfriend on Thursday.  Yup, you read that correctly.  Her boyfriend of five years broke up with her right before Valentine’s Day.  I cannot tell you how angry this makes me, but I am comforted by the fact that I know karma will come back to bite him in his sorry ass.

So, considering that my friend was feeling a bit psycho-crazy, I thought it best to not leave her alone Friday night…however, I also felt awful cancelling on Mr. Martini.  So, I told him what was up, and because he is so crazy awesome, he said that she could come along.  I also felt like getting her out and about and wined and dined would be good for her morale.  And my dear, sweet, Mr. Martini was so very cool about it and even got roses and chocolate for my friend.  How nice is that?  I was really happy that he was so nice about her crashing because we hadn’t seen each other in a while and I think he was looking forward to some intense romance…but, he was perfectly kind and understanding, he even listened to my friend moan throughout the entire evening and was totally sincerely sympathetic and comforting.  It made me appreciate him so much more, because I know he isn’t particularly fond of this friend and we haven’t been on the best terms, and the fact that he was so sweet about the whole thing was just incredibly endearing.

Blah blah blah, this entry is boring me…

To sum things up, Mason and I had fun making fun of the yucky couples on Valentine’s Day, and my girlfriend joined in, as she chilled at the coffee shoppe all night so she would not be ‘drowning in an ocean of tears’ as she so nonchalantly put it.  Then, the three of us went out and drank massive amounts of tequila and continued to have a number of laughs at the expense of Cupid et al.

However, tequila has long been an enemy of mine, something I conveniently forget all-too-often, and upon approaching Mr. Martini’s hotel, I felt the uncontrollable impulse to tell the cab driver I needed to get out.  It is true, I showed up at my (ex) lover’s hotel room at 2 am on Valentine’s Day, exceptionally intoxicated.  How tragic am I?

Mr. Martini was awake and seemed pleased to see me, although I do believe he was somewhat taken aback by my drunken state as I tend to be on my best behaviour in his presence.  I don’t recall much but I believe I went to sleep straightaway, presumably after confessing my undying love and devotion to him.  The next morning, I awoke quite late and probably looking somewhat reminiscent of roadkill, to an awesome champagne breakfast (I obviously skipped the bubbly) and Mr. Martini smirking at me and inquiring as to when we were going to ‘talk about last night’.  I believe I told him “never”, and left it at that–truthfully, I kind of wish that Mr. Martini had skipped the very sweet gesture of ordering breakfast because I was probably blushing throughout the meal and really, really just wanted to leave.

But it gets better.  I arrived at work yesterday to discover that Mason and my friend had spent the night together, ‘but nothing happened.’  My friend confirmed this supposed innocence, but  it’s kind of the latest turn-off in a string of unappealing actions for Mason–not least of all because I think it highly inappropriate for someone with a girlfriend to be sharing a bed with anyone…and certainly not my best friend who just had her heart broken.  Although he tells me “she said she just didn’t want to be alone” and he “felt bad”, to me this screams of shadiness.  Perhaps I am imagining it though…maybe they’re both just oddballs. In any case, it makes me think to myself, “fuck my life”.

So tonight I must face Mr. Martini…and I am really embarrassed because I unfortunately have very little recollection of the other night.  Boo!

…f my life. :)

I hope everyone out there in blogga-land had a fantastic Valentine’s Day, devoid of drunken debauchery and intoxicated impromptu sonnets!

xx Charlee

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