I’d Like to Thank the Academy… of Bloggers. Well, only the good ones. Not the weird ones who write about porn and/or the environment.

 

I got an award.  For blogging (from THIS girl).  Which means a number of things— primarily though that people actually READ my blog which is sa-weeeet!  Also it means that I am not crazy, which is always a little bit of a fear of mine, and it means that I have to do some stuff and keep on sending this bad boy around to keep the good joo-joo going.

 

As a receiver of the Stylish Blogger Award, I have to do the following:

• Present seven facts about myself.
• Name half dozen bloggers I think deserve the award. Contact those people.
• Create a link back to the person who gave you the honor.

Now for the facts about me…. I bet you’re ready to pass out from anticipation.

1. I wanted to be a gynocologist growing up.  Then I realized I wasn’t very good at science, and the reason my grades were so good was because I was a superb bull-shitter (still am)… but nobody wants someone who is just pretending to be good at their job when their job is telling you you might, just maybe, it sort of looks like, herpes.
2. I’m adopting.  I’m having my own little ones as well.  Non-negotiable.
3. I work in politics, as a legislative staffer…. and it’s a weird job.  I make sure my boss (elected official) doesn’t get himself in trouble, I make him sound smart, look good and seem like the second-coming.  And sometimes that’s cool… sometimes it’s exhausting… like today.
4. Biggest fear: being left behind.  Being abandoned.  Winding up alone…. also, winding up fat.
5. I don’t re-wear socks.  I throw them away.  I don’t know why.
6. I live out of my car, and this seems to work fine for me.  Not for people who try to ride in my passenger seat and get a spiked stiletto up the ass.
7. Funny trumps all.  A funny guy trumps a hot guy.  A funny conversation trumps a tough one.  A funny day trumps a shitty week.  Funny will always win… the way to my heart is definitely through my… hm… this was a poorly thought out phrase.  Shit.  Anyway, make me laugh and I’ll love you forever.

And now I get to pass the lovely award on!  This was hard because I follow some pretty impressive bloggers, who undoubtedly have received many an honor from many a junior blogger.  But I’m gonna go ahead and throw em another kudos, because I’m generous like that.  Also, because I’m very tired and don’t want to peruse the internet in search of some up and coming bloggers when I already know a bunch of super-studly ones.  Like the following:

Jaclyn Rae’s Blog

Alone… with cats

Youkitschme (D’s blog!)

20somethinglifecrisis

 

**I’ve been completely neglecting my blog lately.  Which makes me sad.  And because now we know people other than my mom are reading this, I assume those people are sad, too.  (key word: assuming).  I have plenty to write.  PLENTY.  Like hickeys.***

Charlie Said So.

Mr. GOP came to visit me…. well, came to do a variety of campaign things in Orange County and consequently got to visit me.  A few months back, GOP said he loved me.  Well, I’m unsure still if he genuinely does love me, but he most definitely does not love the dog that I live with. 

Charlie the Puggle is by all definitions a very odd dog.  He’s fat and snores and barks at people, but generally means well and is loved by all visitors to our apartment.  (PS- I moved.)

So when GOP showed up at my door and Charlie was clearly not digging him, I was alarmed.  Never has a guy been here without Charlie loving up all over them… until he met GOP.  And GOP’s response was fairly ridiculous.  The dog is fucking 25 pounds, and GOP acted like it was a grimey, dirty stray animal.  He shoved the dog off of him a few times and with a disgusted face just said “Ugh, Charlie!”

And then I knew- time to send GOP on his way.

The relationship I have with Charlie is strained.  He eats my stuff, pees everywhere and barks.  Because of him, my neighbors think myself and my 2 roommates are worthless.  But he has very sweet moments and he does mean well, so I forgive him and just tell him how much he sucks.  He gets me, and I walk him and feed him.  So I get that not everyone will love my four-legged roomie, and I forgive them that.  Most of the time, I don’t like him.

Never did I think that Charlie would weasel his way into my love life criteria…. But it’s a list of criteria that admittedly could use some additions, so I’ll take it.  And it’s not that they have to immediately bond with him, but for God’s sake, don’t be put off by something that takes up two-square feet of room and just wants to love you.  Plus, aren’t all guys dog people?  Don’t they inherently dig all dogs except for lame ones that double as accessories for spoiled rich slut bags?  Maybe GOP became less of a man in my eyes.  Regardless, his stay with me was cut short.  I feel fine with this.

But the criteria thing is an interesting idea.  It goes hand in hand with all these talks of ‘types’ and what we’re attracted to.  I’m attracted to people with issues, and people who like crazies are attracted to me.  Why my relationships all end poorly is explained well by that equation, I guess.  Unfortunately, it’s been recently revealed to me that my “type” is not quite as specific as I would like it to be.  I’ve been surprised numerous times by the men I find myself drawn to.  Well, I surprise myself and give my friends plenty of ammo to make fun of me.

And ultimately, none of this matters.  I am dating quite a bit, some more worthy than others.  But I don’t want a relationship.  I’m too tired, too frustrated, too unsure of everything to begin some search for ‘permanent.’ This will fade I’m sure, just like my other phases, but for now… I think I just want to be left alone.  Well, except for dumb-ass Charlie.