I'm Not A Player I Just Crush A Lot

I got the following very interesting email around 1:30 a.m. on the 4th of July:


Hi,

I am contacting you because I am currently engaged with M. who once lived in jersey (piscataway) and I would please like to know, if you would please tell me, how did you two meet each other and what was the nature of your relationship with him?

I intend nothing other than to know this person with whom I am making plans on spending the rest of my life with. I ask and beg that you please tell me. It is all I ask ...

Sincerely,
A.


When I first read it I thought, “This chick is obviously crazy and I’m not going to answer this email.” But the curiosity of the situation ruled out over my logical brain and I emailed her back, first asking how she got my email (she went snooping through M’s AIM buddy list) and then telling her that I didn’t feel comfortable giving her information about a friend of mine when she was the one that was engaged to him. She should talk to him about it. Clearly there are some trust issues in this relationship.

She wrote me back, saying that the trust issues were exactly why she was emailing me. She apparently had caught him online dating in the past and again just recently but anytime she asked him about it he denied it, chastised her for snooping and said he was just trying to make friends, etc. Now I was really torn…

Here’s the back story on the sitch. I met this guy online last summer. We IM’d and talked for weeks. He seemed to be a really great guy and was actually so intelligent that it was intimidating. (There were many I time that I Googled something after our convos so I could be in the loop on what the hell he was talking about.) He told me that he had recently broken up with this girl who had turned out to be psycho. He was blocking her calls and IMs because she was becoming stalkerish. We talked a lot about our past relationships, religion, history, books, movies, etc. He was so easy to talk to, it was great!

One night we were talking about how long it had both been for us in the uh…sexual department. We were joking that we should just do each other a favor and sleep together. So we did…twice. It wasn’t my proudest moment (I’m not a one night stand kind of gal) but it had been a long time for me (and supposedly him) and it scratched an itch. We continued talking after ‘the incident’ and a week or so later he told me that he was back with the psycho girl. We kept in touch for a bit but he said we couldn’t hang out because she was super jealous of any female friends of his (rightfully so, apparently). We lost touch not long after that and I pretty much forgot about him.

Back to the other day. I didn’t know what to do. Do I tell this girl what happened between us? Is she just psycho like he said and I should stay out of it? Or was she really being set up to be hurt down the road?

After a few more emails back and forth, I gathered enough information (i.e. he cheated on his first wife, they were not broken up at the time I met him, etc) that I thought she deserved to know the truth. So I told her.

I know….I should have stayed out of it. But this girl seems so sweet and is SUPER naïve and I feel this strange duty to protect her. She kept emailing me back trying to justify his actions. She asked if a) he was really drunk, b) if it was an accident or c) if he was just really into me. (a. He wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t get it up. b. How the hell do you have sex by accident? “Oh I fell over and it just slipped in…and out…and in…and out!” c. There’s no way he was really into me…not an option.)

The more we emailed the more disturbing things I found out. Apparently, she had lost her virginity to this guy like four days before we uh…you know. She had found the online dating ad he placed and they were fighting at the time we uh…you know. They never actually were broken up. He had hidden my identity from her by labeling my screen name ‘Ian’ and had told her that the air mattress I let him borrow (because he had just moved and didn’t have a bed) was from his friend Chris. He clearly is a manipulative genius/air mattress stealer.

I feel like such a super bitch. I never would have done anything with this guy if I thought he was with someone else. He lied to me and basically used me for sex (not that I’m complaining about the sex part). I feel so bad for A. She’s heartbroken and is planning on calling off the wedding and leaving him. She followed him to Texas, where they’re living now, and she doesn’t have anyone there to help her through this. She can’t eat, she can’t sleep and it’s all because of this drama.

Although she plans on saying, “Peace out” to the bastard, I have a very strong feeling that he’ll tell her I’m lying, none of this actually happened, and he’ll once again weasel his way out of his douchbaggary. I warned her of this and she has agreed that he’ll probably try and I’ve been trying to build her self esteem and tell her that she doesn’t deserve him, etc. We’ll see how the drama unfolds on the next episode of Allie Shouldn’t Get Involved.

The Dirty Old Man That Trumps All Other Dirty Old Men

Last weekend I had the pleasure of meeting the dirtiest of all dirty old men. My friend Sara came up to visit me from Texas and we went to the city to enjoy a couple evenings of debauchery. On Friday night we went into Little Italy to enjoy some pasta and red wine. We went to a place called Puglia's. The food was great, the wine was flowing, but the entertainment is what would make me go back.

Puglia's is a family style restaurant with long tables and large portions. They have a keyboard player that entertains and people often stand on their chairs and waive their napkins in the air along with the music. Shortly after we sat down, our waiter Vinny introduced himself and sat down with us. We ordered a bottle of their house wine. When he brought it over, he also brought a glass of sangria for himself. He would sit with us off and on throughout the night sharing laughs and drinks. It seemed like each time he came over, he came with a new bottle of red. The best part...when we got the bill (after four bottles of wine and a shot of Lemoncello each) we were only charged $16 for the first bottle. Thank you Vinny!

We enjoyed a long dinner. I think we were at Puglia's for about three and a half hours. We were actually there as they were shutting the place down! There was an older man that was at least 75 years old that was there...I believe he was part owner or related to the owner or something...we'll call him Gigolo. We were told that he lived upstairs and hadn't left the block he lived on in something like 20 years.

As the evening wore on and Sara and I got more and more loopy from the wine, Gigolo came to our table to try to woo us. He first said that Vinny liked to...let's say...enjoy the "flavor" of a woman. He didn't actually use the words. He used the classic "tongue between two fingers" gesture that got his point across clearly. He went on to say that Vinny was too fast at it. "Too fast! Too fast!" he kept yelling. He told us that he thought a ladies "parts" smelled like fried calamari. Later when he walked by our table he would just shout, "FRIED CALAMARI!" There were a few times that a little red wine may have come out my nose.

As we were getting ready to leave, he decided to tell us what he looked for in women. He liked large breasts which meant that he was enamoured with mine. He asked me to tell him what size I was and because I aim to please (and had about eight glasses of wine in me) I decided to tell him. He grinned. Apparently he also like hairy armpits and was disappointed when I told him that I kept mine clean. He suggested that Vinny take the little one (meaning Sara) and he would take the big one (meaning me). As flattered as we were, we ran out of there before he could put his slimy hands on us.

Sara and I enjoyed more adventures that evening and the rest of the weekend, but I have to say, that was definitely the most unforgettable. I don't know if I'll ever be able to eat fried calamari again.

Mind Reader

We have a cafeteria in my office building at work. If I don’t bring my lunch and am too lazy to go out to get something, I’ll go upstairs and have the guy at the grill make me a tuna melt. I don’t know his name, but he is a very strange character. He’s very nice and friendly but he talks all the time and he talks very loud. I’m starting to think that he talks so loud to drown out the sound of other people’s thoughts that he had running through his head.

Here’s my logic for this crazy thought. Last week, I ordered my usual and was waiting for him to finish it up when I thought to myself, “I wonder if I asked him for two pickles if I would get them.” After my melt was done, he asked if I wanted a pickle, I said yes and he put two pickles next to my sandwich. No big deal, right? Except I quite literally have ordered this sandwich about 20 times from this same guy and he’s only ever given me one pickle. Seemed like a strange coincidence.

Today I went up to the cafeteria and decide to test him. I asked for the usual then thought to myself, “If you can hear me…give me two pickles.” I know, I know…I’m completely nuts and I should have my head examined. BUT IT WORKED!!! He gave me two pickles instead of one, AGAIN! It kind of freaked me out so I gave him a funny look.

I need to have more tests so I can see if this is more than just a coincidence. I don't feel like I can just ask (either verbally or mentally, HA) because maybe he doesn't want anyone to know. Any thoughts?

(Wow…I just read over the above and I really have issues. Who besides me would think that this stranger that’s a grill cook at my company could possibly be a mind reader?? I don’t even know if I believe in that stuff yet it’s the first thing that popped into my head. Maybe he put the thought there!!! ACK!!!!)

The Giggles

This made me laugh so hard at work today that I cried. I don't know why.... (You can skip through the beginning and watch from 3:45 on.)

Bump In The Night

Eerie...

Tonight is so eerie...

The wind is howling. Clouds cover the sky in a blanket that is lit up by the lights of the city, casting an orange glow on everything. The streetlights don't seem to be as bright as they normally are. Each gust of wind brings with it the scent of the macabre.

Tonight is the type of night that you think you hear a screen door slam when there's no screen door on your house. Tonight is the type of night that you and your dog both look to a dark shadow and stare for a while, for no apparent reason. Tonight is the type of night that your cat stares into the dark kitchen and arches her back. Tonight is the type of night where lights flicker and you see faces in the leaves of the trees. Tonight is the type of night that little children go missing from their beds and screams would be silent as if blown away before they reach someone who could help.

It's very eerie....

And I've been reading too much Stephen King....

Let’s Make Fun of My Sister, Shall We?

The joy of having a blog is that you can write things about your family members and they can’t stop you. It’s an amazing power. But as they say, with great power comes great responsibility. I have interpreted this to mean that I have the responsibility to share with you, dear readers, the hilarity that ensues when my sister consumes too many beverages.

My sister came down to visit me in Jersey last summer. It was just the two of us for the whole weekend…enjoying each other’s company. One of the nights, we decided to take the train into the city. We took the train specifically so that we could both drink to our hearts content and not have to worry about driving home.

We hopped on the train and began our journey. She’s actually really cute in the city because she is a total tourist. She’s really smiley and talks to everyone. She kept asking the train conductors questions, when all they want to do is punch the chads on our damn tickets. It was cracking me up.

We made it to Penn Station, hit up Sephora (which they don’t have in Maine…so sad), and then hopped on the subway and headed to the Village. My sister is terrible with directions and she’ll be the first one to admit it. If we come to an intersection and have to go either right or left, she will ALWAYS pick the wrong direction. You would think at least 50% of the time she’d guess right, but no.

We decided to have dinner outside at the little Italian restaurant that we found the last time we were in the city together. We had a “few” glasses of wine. After dinner, we decided to check out a bar. Jekyll and Hyde’s caught our fancy so we sat at the bar and begin to drink our body weight. When we both had to hit the ladies, we made our way out back. Let me tell you, it’s hard to find a women’s room when the door to said room looks like a library bookcase and you’ve had a “few” dirty martinis.

In between drinks we stepped outside for a cigarette and had the “I love you man” conversation. At this point we were both pretty toasted so I have to admit, I don’t remember much of it. I do remember us saying how much we loved each other and that we would do whatever it took to bail each other out of jail…no matter what we were accused of. I believe I even stated that I loved her husband so much that I would do the same for him. I have no idea why we thought that one of us was going to be arrested in the near future, but in our drunken state, it was a very touching conversation...we both cried.

As the time drew near for us to catch the last train back to NJ, we left the bar. Now remember, my sister is TERRIBLE with directions, and apparently when she’s drunk, she thinks everyone else is. I think she asked me, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” about 87 times. In Penn Station, she decided that she’d better check with the cops at the desk about the time for boarding the train. I had to literally pull her away from them, try to act sober so they wouldn’t lock us up in a drunk tank for the night, and assure them (and her) that I knew what I was doing.

Ah….finally, we were on the train. Sissy decided she really had to pee (and she can never hold it). She went to the bathroom…. Hmm….she’d been gone for an awfully long time.

I leaned out into the aisle to look for her. Maybe she forgot where we were sitting….

Nothing….

Suddenly I heard something. Wait…was that someone yelling? I listened harder. Then I heard it.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!! I’M STUCK IN THE BATHROOM!!!!!!”

Oh.My.God. My sister had locked herself in the dirtiest bathroom known to man and she couldn’t figure out how to get the door open. I could hear her pushing buttons and pulling levers, tugging on the door as hard as she could. I had to talk through the door to calm her down and then tell her what levers to push. Finally…she freed herself.

We made it back to my apartment. All I wanted to do is sleep and although Sissy was much more intoxicated than I was, she thought that she had to take care of me. I laid down in bed and she proceeded to pet my head for about fifteen minutes. Apparently she thought I was sick (which I wasn’t) and that she was making me feel better (which she wasn’t). Finally she wandered off. I heard a crash in the kitchen. I ran out to make sure she was alright. She assured me that everything was fine, that she just helped me out by feeding the cat (and crashing into my kitchen table making it slide into the fridge). I went back to bed and she wandered into the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom. I though she was getting ready for bed. The tub started….then I heard her singing/humming to herself. After about 5 minutes of this, I decided to go check on her to make she didn’t pass out and drown. When I opened the door I saw her sitting in the tub with the water running over her feet and the drain open.

Me: “Sissy, what are you doing?”

Sissy (in a loud whisper): “I’m rinsing.”

M: “What?”

S (again in loud whisper): “I’m rinsing. Don’t worry; I do it all the time.”

What the eff was she talking about??

Finally, she went to bed and passed out.

The next morning, we woke up facing each other in my bed. She peeled her eyes open, tried to shake the fuzzies out of her head, then looked at me and said, “How did we get home last night?” Classic.

The Gist

I don't have the energy to create one cohesive blog post. So I'm bullet-ing one.


* Weight Watchers is going well. I'm losing weight and I don't want to kill myself yet. As you can see to the right, I've lost 6 pounds. Actually...6.6 pounds, but the Traineo widget doesn't measure tenths of a pound. I used to make fun of people that referred to their weight and/or weight loss in tenths of pounds. Now that I'm fighting for every tenth I can get...I sing a different tune.

* It's depressing that the contestants on The Biggest Loser consider a six pound loss a good weight loss for a week. It's taken me three!!

* I bet if I had Jillian screaming at me or Bob's cute little butt to run toward...the story might be different.

* I got my nose pierced last week. I know that it wasn't the most responsible thing to do considering I hold a professional office job and am going to be 30 in a few months, but I've wanted it done since I was 16 and always made excuses as to why I shouldn't do it. So, last Monday on my way back from getting cat food, I stop by the local tattoo/piercing parlor 'just to inquire' about the process. Five minutes later I had a needle through my left nostril.



* My friend 'Vera' was down in NYC a while back for work and I took the train in to visit her one night. I had the biggest sandwich of my life at the Carnegie Deli. I couldn't even eat half of it (that's half pictured below).




* I have some exciting trips and visits coming up in the next few months. Next weekend I'm going to hang out with the girls in MA. The second to last week in March I'm going to Florida with my sister to visit me Mum. In April my niece is coming to visit for a long weekend and my friend from Austin is coming for a long weekend. I'm excited to have a life that will consist of more than seeing how many Netflix movies I can get through in a week!

* My pup, Roxie, is now seven years old. She's the cutest thing ever.



That's the gist of my life at the moment. Very exciting stuff, a'yuh!