Spring Bleak

The rehashing of spring break 2006, which was good and bad yet shall never be again. At least not with the same cast of characters. Here are the cools and the drools from this weekend:

COOL:
Malaquita Beach is really nice
Weather was beautiful
Farah’s Bar has friendly waitresses, is close to the house, and has an excellent men to women ratio
Sleeping outside in the sun with the cool wind blowing off the water and over your body
Tisdale wine is mellow and quite tasty

DROOL:
Letting the woman with only 3 yrs of driving experience at the helm of the trip.
Carsickness due to aforementioned reason
Listening to country music for 2 and a half hours is the WORST THING when you feel carsick
I quickly learned that the airflow in Amanda’s car is such that all air from the front seat is immediately thrown in the face of the person sitting in back. Consequently I was able to smell every word uttered. Gack.
Women who care more about getting the guy than how it makes others feelGoing somewhere cool with people who don’t really get you

Saturday evening found us in a bar by 8:30. The place was really perfect; relaxed, casual, mostly people in their late twenties, early thirties, and more guys than girls by about 3 to 1. This really big guy and his friend walk in shortly after we arrived. I know this because:A. There were not many people there at such an early hour B. Amanda and Connie both have a thing for really big guys (6 ft and above, 250 lbs and above) C. Knowing this I quipped that I would take the lanky one for a stroll on the beach and pick my teeth with him afterwards, as he was quite gangly and I am not. D. Amanda then noted his (the thin man) long pony tail and remarked that I could use a piece of his hair for floss, and the nickname “The Dentist” was born

“Laurel and Hardy” from earlier begin taking shots. And more shots. And more shots. I was sitting to their side and did catch the big guy’s eyes a couple of times. I knew that Connie and Amanda were interested, and I’m not into “types”, so this guy was OK but he didn’t make me nervous enough to warrant “attractive” status in my book.
The shots they had were black, or purple brackish substance, and since I can talk to any guy that I am NOT attracted to, and I knew Amanda and Connie were drooling over this hunka hunka burnin’ lump, I asked him what they were shooting. He told us and 10 minutes later we were bought a round. 15 minutes later our tables collided. 20 minutes after that I was trying to make The Dentist feel better about the fact that he was totally wasted because you cannot go shot for shot with a person who is approximately 6 times your body mass. He was a nice guy and, having imbibed on liquor two weekends before which resulted in me puking in Connie’s car, I could totally commiserate with his dilemma. Girls are coming to talk to us! YEAH! I’m too drunk to speak English! BOOO! He wore Birkenstocks and his T-shirt said “Sell your computer and buy a guitar”. Yeah, definitley interesting enough to hang out with.

So the night is going on and I’m talking to my Birkenstock Hottie when I notice that Amanda and Connie are gone, and so is the big dude. Oh well, I figure they were out for a smoke or something. Then Connie comes up and asks if I know where Amanda went. I said no. 15 minutes goes by. Connie comes back and asks again. Again, I say that I haven’t seen her. 10 more minutes go by and my little lanky stud muffin thinks he has to puke, so I hustle him out of the bar onto the patio which looks out over the water. 5 minutes after that, Connie again finds me and says, with tears in her eyes, that Amanda is not in the bar.

Now, I don’t know how many times you’ve been on all-girl excursions but I’ve gone to Mardi Gras, Matamoros, Mazatlan, and the rule of thumb is that you all stick together so nobody gets lost, abducted, raped, or kidnapped. NO MATTER WHAT, you tell everyone what you’re doing or just stick to the group. Knowing Amanda, I thought it was highly unlikely that she would be that irresponsible, so I turn to Mr. Stringbean, who is trying his hardest just to keep his shit together enough to stay vertical and not puke, what they came in and if he could show us where his car is. We wanted to make sure that he was still there, b/c all I knew was Amanda was gone, and this fat guy was gone too. We go to the parking lot and the guy’s truck is still there. Meanwhile Connie is having a panic attack. What, you didn’t know that Connie gets panic attacks? Me either! She’s crying and yelling, calling her friend in Colorado and the police officer she knows who lives 300 miles away. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get my little flower child to remember his friend’s cell number b/c Amanda is not answering hers, and everytime Connie comes near me all teary eyed I just tell her to call the police.

Amanda and I hung out hardcore 5 yrs ago, and from what I knew of her she would not just disappear for 30 minutes when it’s spring break, but Connie and Amanda have hung out for like 2 years now, so Connie would better know if Amanda would do something like wander off. Connie is too hysterical to call the cops, so I had to do it. I gave them descriptions of all parties, had to give them my name and they reluctantly said they’d sent someone out to the bar. 3 minutes later, Amanda and the bear-man come out of the bar like nothing happened. They were outside, below the patio on the pier. No, they hadn’t heard us talking outside. I gave Amanda my cell phone and told her to call 911 back to tell them she was found. I was very angry. I then told Amanda to deal with her friend Connie. We all ended up going back into the bar and having more drinks, but the whole thing just made me feel like “what kind of retarded bitches am I hanging out with?”

I was actually excited about the prospect of seeing these guys again. Since they were from SA, and they had a connection to Padre, I thought we might be able to hang out some other time. Amanda invited them to a bar for St. Patrick’s Day, and that was cool. Maybe I could talk to my skinny honey when he wasn’t drunk out of his mind. The next morning Connie told me that Amanda slept w/the fattie!!!! They were getting down and dirty on the patio! She could hear everything, and if they didn’t fuck, they got damn close.

What happened?! When did she turn into a slut? I feel stupid b/c I talked to the fat guy a little when Amanda and Connie were in the bathroom (after the whole police bs) and he was intimating that they (Connie and Amanda) were kinda “fighting” over him. I said “Well, Connie is pretty young and a little wild (read: slut puppy), but Amanda is a good girl.” Joke’s on me! She too puts out like a fireman to a fire! Not only is it difficult to accept that a formerly trusted friend that I have shared many a beer with has shed her affinity for just going out to see and to be seen, but is now "servicing" strangers, but it’s also disappointing b/c now I don’t want to go back to Padre w/them. They were all excited about our next trip, but the Island is a small place. You take home guys from the same bar time and time again, and everyone will know that you’re a slut. I don’t want to be labeled right along with them.

You know what this means. I'm going to have to start rockin' Friendster or something so that can go have a normal time with women I trust and respect. And speaking of trust and respect, The Dentist was a gentleman, yes I DID kiss him (3 times on the lips-"church tongue") and consequently I've been thinking of him nonstop for the past 4 days. (It's my cursed soft heart, which I SWEAR must have been placed on me as a baby by a jilted fairy godmother.) In any event, I sincerely don’t think that the guy who tagged Amanda in the 4-5 hrs they were awake and hanging out, is going to go through the trouble of driving to New Braunfels for St. Patty’s Day, so my little long-haired honey is lost in the haze of SA. But it was nice to feel wanted by someone, even if he was probably 3 drinks shy of full blown alcohol poisoning. Next time, NO KISSING! I hate pining for men for no good reason, but at least I'm not dwelling on my ex. If I’m going to dwell on somebody, it shouldn’t be the guy that dicked me over. (I'd rather be thinking about the guys who haven’t dicked me over YET.)

Horror Scope

After reading today’s horoscope I had a flashback to Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, where all is going well until he opens his fortune cookie and it reads to the effect of “Don’t leave the house today”. Obser-ruv:

“Your sign's resume has never included a fondness for being meticulous, discreet or frugal. Those traits, sometimes even in others, bore you to tears. You're known for being a bit too blunt at times, but you're also honest and generous which explains the cast of amazingly different characters you call friends. Your mission now -- and it won't be easy -- will be to rein in any urge to go overboard, in any department. Good luck.”

Sigh….why can’t I be a boring old Pisces?

I’ll be sure to keep that in mind I’m soaking up some rays this weekend at Padre. That’s right! Ms Copperhead returns to the big SB! (not sorority bitch, I’m talking SPRING BREAK, baby!) Yeah, I’ll probably feel like an old fogey, but the opportunity presented itself, and who am I to turn down some fun in the sun with some rum in my tum(my).

I’m sure I’ll relay all of the gory details upon my return.

Back From the Tundra of Contentment

I think this is officially my “Bitch” log since the urge to write had temporarily left me for the past few weeks, and being that they have also been relatively happy, I’m guessing I felt as though I had nothing to write about. Surely I would not want to remember how well things were going at this time in my life, or how I finally cleaned out the shed and am ready to dispose of all lingering affects of my former bf, and how that makes me feel very strong and certain about my future. Why would I want to remember that? But today, the day that I have to do mounds of crap-work, and having knocked down a sign post on campus yesterday, causing a policeman to escort me from the business meeting I had been attending... I really MUST write that down for the sake of posterity.

I also got the female equivalent of a “boner” today, which really sucked. Lately I have been trying to push thoughts of how I am going to handle this newly found chastity down into the recesses of my mind, in the hopes that it will not become too big of an issue. I guess I’m taking a page from “40 Year Old Virgin” in the sense that I’m just trying to keep myself as busy as possible, however hormones do have a way of announcing their presence at the most inopportune moments. I guess it wasn’t a biggie because I was alone and in my office with the door shut (having LUNCH at my desk-nothing more!) when my body was suddenly swept through with I can only imagine to be testosterone. I mean, I wasn’t ready to tell outrageous lies to get laid or punch a wall or anything, but it did give me the sudden urge to grab my crotch. Y’know, I can’t really see myself in a relationship for at least the next year or so, and I just need to develop some sort of system so that I don’t become lust-lorn to the point where I find myself at some Tejano bar at 2 am trying to get an illegal with a wife and kids to give me some play. (Have never been there, thank God, and don’t want to know what that’s like, however I have found that a scabby toothless 90-year-old whore could get play at a Tejano bar, so with my complexion it's like shooting fish in a barrel.)

I may have taken a bet my ass can’t cash, literally. I was feeling down and trying to keep busy and lo and behold, a coupon for 30% any regular priced item in my favorite clothing store is sitting in my mailbox! It was fated- nothing to do with me. I ended up buying a few pieces at said boutique, and while that isn’t so bad, I bought them all in sizes at least 2 times smaller than the size I wear now. Yes, I KNOW how incredibly stupid and pathetic that seems, but I have been doing very well with my exercise and diet plan, am wearing things I have not been able to wear in months, and just know that every little bit of encouragement I can give myself will make all the difference on that night (you know that night!) when I will not want to exercise, or want to indulge in something that will blow the needle scale off it’s current downward trajectory. So I can just remind myself that I’ve got the trip planned, the clothes bought, and all I’ve got to do to come through for myself is lay off the fucking twinkies. I owe it to myself to do at least that.

What trip you ask? In a moment of desperation, when I thought things w/Jerk-oh were on the mend, I bought a ticket to Vegas so that I could accompany El Asshole to Vegas with his friend Senor Asshole. Thankfully I had the foresight to also ask a friend of mine on this trip, otherwise I’d be hocking that ticket on E-bay right about now. So while the bad news is that I’m technically going to Vegas with my ex, the great news is that I am actually going to Vegas with my cousin, wherein my ex will also be on the same arriving flight. We changed our tickets to stay an extra day, and besides the normal hello one would exchange with any familiar face, our paths shall not cross. Oh, but I know what you’re thinking “Good luck with that manifesto, sister! You can tell me all about how much sex you had with your ex when you get back” I say, fie to your nay saying! I’ve only been sexually active for 4 1/2 years of the 30 years I’ve been alive, and quite honestly I’ve been obsessed with the thoughts of sex for at least 14 of those years. How did I manage that? A strong will, my faith in hell, and the fear of pregnancy and disease. Notwithstanding the afore-mentioned tenets, which are still in check, I also have the “You’ll never have this again, you slimebag”-itis where I will do anything (ANYTHING) to make him suffer, in a non-committal, passive-aggressive way. Hence the very cute and slimming clothes coupled with my new bod and my carefree smile will attest to the fact that he is but an afterthought and I am better than ever.

But isn’t all this trouble you’re going through a testament to the fact that you do still care about what he thinks about you, thereby negating any satisfaction you may be seeking? And to that I say: Don’t you have anything better to do than poke holes in my dream world? Geez, no wonder I can’t find happiness, I’ve got this frickin’ harpy on my shoulder all the time! Listen, getting back to the way I was before I met him is the best thing for me. If I can derive a smidge of satisfaction from this then why not? I’m not going after the money from the $700+ phone bill he stuck me with, which was mostly due to calls made to his 19 year old co-manager a.k.a. his shoulder to cry on, a.k.a. the one he left me for thereby making me subsidize said affair from my own hard earned money as the phone bill is in my name and any refusal to pay it would only negatively reflect my credit, so if I can get some enjoyment from a minor mind-fuck like “Wow she looks great, I must have made her miserable b/c she only looked like that for 3 months of your relationship” (which, believe me, I really don’t think he’s capable of thoughts any deeper than where Wrestlemania is being held this year), then I’ll do it. I’m not losing my soul over it, and I get to reap the benefits of getting back in shape. Humph.