The blog chronicles

Guess what, you guys?!

I'm not anonymous anymore.

Well, to you I am. What I'm trying to say is that this little piece of Internet where I vent/bitch/moan/ is not a secret anymore.

Remember my last post where I told you I had the nerdiest conversation about blogging with GayBff? Well, apparently it was passionate enough for him to want to start blogging and also for him to ask me if he could read my blog. Now, I was a bit taken aback because up until that point NO ONE knew I had one. I hadn't told a single person. Not my mom, my BFF, my ex boyfriends, no one. GayBff just straight up said "Can I read your blog?" and I didn't really know what to say.

The thing with me is that I'm a very private person. I guess this sounds weird coming from the girl who tells strangers on the Internet all about her "sexcapades", terrible dating stories, past experiences with bulimia and being molested and crazy drunk shaenanigans but it's true. If you know me in real life, you know I'm more of an observer. A listener, if you will. I stay on the sidelines, taking everything in and making comments here and there, but I mostly listen to what other people have to say. Not because I'm a gossip (which I totally am, BTW) but because I feel like other people's stories are ALWAYS better than mine. Of course, like everyone, I needed some sort of venting system, and that's why I started blogging.

Actually, when I was around 12 I used to write my experiences on Word documents which I would delete after a month. Then, when I was around 15, I started an online diary on diaryland.com which was basically blogging (back when it wasn't even called that), and by the time I was 17 I moved on to www.xanga.com and started the emo-est blog ever created. I was going through a very rough break up AND my parents' bitter divorce at the time and I would literally just sit in front of my computer every single day after school and type for hours while listening to My Chemical Romance and crying my eyes out. Good times. I had that xanga for about 2 years and then one day, I stopped. I felt better and less depressed and, on a whim, I deleted it. Never to be found again. Sometimes I wish I could find it and read it again to revisit my "youth" but other times I feel like the person who used to write that blog and the person who writes this one are so different, I wouldn't even recognize her at all.

So, anyway. When GayBff told me he wanted to read my blog I was a bit hesitant because of course I had blogged about him and he would read it and I would be so embarassed. Or what if he thought my blog was terribly boring and stupid? Or what if he thought I was the biggest slut in the world? Or, the worst writer? OMG what if he thought I wasn't as cool as he thought? Maybe he'd find out I'm just a nerd who reads for fun and and goes through life quoting movies. Gah! Seriously, all these questions were running through my head in 2.5 seconds until I decided that, yes I would let him read it.

So he did. And he walked in the office the next day and the first thing he says (loud enough for all of Florida to hear) "OMG! Can I tell you I LOVE YOUR BLOG!! It's so funny! I love it! I literally sat there and read it for hours and laughed out loud and OMG I LOVE IT!" and then he kept going on and on about h0w much he loves his nickname and the fact that I don't use my real name and blah, blah. At this point, all I could do was give him one of my trademark shut-the-fuck-up looks because all of our coworkers were listening to this whole exchange. Well, so much for him hating my blog huh? The only thing that I don't know how to feel about is the fact that more people I know want to read it and I'm not so sure I want them to.

What do you guys think? Should I just bite the bullet and let them? Or hold on to as much anonymity as I can?

What a difference a year makes...

Remember that post I posted about a year ago? (5 points for being redundant!)

If you're like me most readers, you're probably too lazy to click on that post and read it. Basically, it says "blah, blah, I've never tried weed, blah, blah, I'm so proud of myself blah, blah, look at me all up in my high horse blah".

This year, 420 was a bit different. First off, it was a Monday and who the hell gets high on a Monday? Me, that's who.

OK, so I didn't really get high. More like, I tried to get high for the first time. It didn't really work though. The thing is that me and some friends went over to GayBff's house after work with a mission. Operation: Get high as hell. We even got lots of pizza! Me, my girl A (yes, the one I made out with) and GayBff waited for the others to get there with "the good shit", and while waiting I engaged in the nerdiest conversation known to man: BLOGGING.

Ladies and gents, I am not an undercover nerd anymore.

For some reason, GayBff asked me "DG, what's blogging?" and I geeked out. I started telling him all about blogging and how much I love it and how many "friends" I have (nothing will take away your street cred as fast as owning up to having Internet friends) and how people leave comments on the most random shit you write, etc. I think my speech was passionate enough to make him want to blog. After that geek session, the 3 of us jammed out to one of my favorite songs ever. By jammed out, I really mean we yelled and screamed pretending to be Whitney, but ended up sounding like dying cats. Of course, right when we were "jamming", GayBff's uncle gets home and heard us. This wouldn't really bother me in other circumstances but it does because I have the biggest crush on him. He's a hot older man. By older man I mean he was able to vote before I was born.

When the rest of the people came, blunts were immediately rolled and lit and they all proceeded to get high. I was just looking at this point, trying to take in the scene but not really participating. Until one of my friends offered and I said sure and I took 2 hits. I don't think I did it right though because I didn't really feel anything except I was very tired and hungry.

After that, everyone there proceeded to speak with a UK accent. It was very, very funny but I was so mad because I can't do it and feel so left out! But really, like my girl K said "She can't even get the American accent right and you're gonna make her do a UK accent?"

When I got home, I went straight to my room and Febrezed (did I ever tell you guys about my undying love for all things Febreze?) the crap out of my clothes and took a shower immediately. That didn't stop my mom from giving me a random speech the next morning about drinking and driving (random, I know) because she "smelled something weird last night when you got home".

Clearly, I was raised by a bloodhound.

Forever 21.

My 21st birthday was, by far, my favorite birthday ever. Not only was it a 3-day affair, but I really, truly felt loved and appreciated. Because a 3 day recap would be way too long, I've decided to let you know the highlights, bullet point style:

Wednesday, March 11th

• My mom woke me up with hugs, kisses, presents and cards. Is there a better way to wake up? I don't think so.




• Had my GayBFF and OtherGay bake me not one, but TWO cakes. They were awesome enough to decorate one of them in purple and green (my favorite color combination) and the other one in some sort of Disney princess theme. It was all pink with sprinkles and glitter and stars and LORD knows what else.




• GayBFF took it upon himself to make my day memorable and came in to work with a huge
  "Friends Forever" singing balloon "(seriously, every time you tap it, it sings a song about friends and how they make your day last long) and a smaller balloon with the number 21 on it.




• I bawled my eyes out at work because my Daddy called me. I really thought he wasn't gonna call so when he did, I lost it. Daddy issues? Me? Never!




• Had a delicious sushi/Japanese buffet dinner with the fam.




• My ex boyfriend came over to visit (I did NOT let him in the house, mind you) and gave me the weirdest present I've ever received: Two joints. WTF?! Did he seriously think I was gonna smoke them? Does he not know me at all? I promptly stashed them in an Altoids tin in my purse and gave them to my co-worker the next day.

Friday, March 13th

• My co-workers (as you know, they're not only my co-workers but my really good friends now) planned a whole night of festivities. Right in front of me. I did not notice.




• Festivities included: Dinner at an upscale restaurant, followed by a very sketch Spanish club (my favorite type of club because you go there to REALLY dance), followed by a night of drinking and debauchery at OtherGay's apartment. Since he's the only one who lives on his own and we had nowhere else to drink and be merry, he offered his abode. Because my girl A knew I was gonna be drunk as fuck and unable to drive, she told me I would sleep over at her house.




• After work, my girl K and I went to the liquor store and bought enough alcohol for a small country, even though our group was gonna be small. I thought it was kind of strange when she wanted to buy a gallon of water but when I asked her why, she said "We're going to OtherGay's apartment. Does he ever offer you anything when we're there?" Answer: No.




• When we got to the restaurant, after being told by GayBF "Honey, your shoe game is ON POINT" (because really, out of all my friends, I wear the fiercest shoes) they decide to let me know that we weren't, in fact, going to OtherGay's apartment after the club. We were going to a hotel room they had rented, while at the office, right under my nose, without me noticing. They had also talked to my mom, told her the plans and asked her to pack a small bag for me. Mind you, all of this was done WHILE WE WERE ALL AT WORK. Apparently, when my girl K told me the room she was trying to rent for her and her fuck buddy, she was lying. When my girl A told me "I was just on the phone with your mom. She said she was working the corner and had a john waiting for her, but could spare a moment to talk" she was also lying.




• After dinner, we headed to the hotel where we checked in and pregamed with shots of tequila, beers, and this. We got to the club at 1:30am and I was... howyousay? Shitfaced. Three sheets to the wind. I thought I was dancing with some guy, but really, I was just trying my hardest not to fall flat on my ass. That same guy asked me if I wanted to go on a boat ride the next moring to which I promptly said yes and gave him a fake number. Even when obliterated, I have my standards.




• We left the club at about 3am (clubs close at around 5-6am in Miami) and stayed in the parking lot for about an hour because we were all too drunk to function. Especially GayBF, who was our DD because he's the only one who knows how to drive a stick shift. I know, we're idiots. After he bitched and moaned for a littler and threw up, he felt better and drove us back to the hotel.




• At the hotel, we drank our body weight in tequila and vodka and played "Never have I ever". Who knew we were all such whores? We were seriously drinking to the most ridiculous phrases... "Never have i ever... fucked someone in public". Someone would drink to that. "Never have I ever... fucked a married guy" I would drink to that. On and on until I was so drunk I kept falling off the bed, my girl A was so drunk she kept trying to get GayBF to make out with her (he wouldn't), my girl K was so drunk she kept flashing us and GayBf was so drunk he kept cuddling me and saying "Douchegirl, I LOVE YOU!!! I'm so glad you responded to that Craigslist ad."




• At some point, I got confused with my languages and started speaking Spanish to my friends. A kept looking at me weird, and I couldn't figure out why. K kept saying "OMG! I understand everything you're saying!" and GayBF said "Please don't stop speaking Spanish to me! It's so sexy! Better than sex!".

• Because I'm a feisty drunk, I started yelling at K's fuck buddy who had joined us when we got back from the club. In my best Spanish girl accent, I kept yelling his name over and over and screamed "DO YOU LOVE HER?!! DO YOU LOVE K?! IF YOU DON'T LOVE HER WHY ARE YOU FUCKING HER, YOU ASSHOLE! DON'T FUCK HER IF YOU DON'T LOVE HER! LEAVE HER ALONE." I even went over to his bed (in which he was trying his hardest to ignore my drunk verbal abuse enough to be able to sleep) and got all up in his grill yelling at him some more. At least K can't say I don't look after her.
• My feisty drunk self also kept GayBFF from falling asleep by saying "I love you! And don't say I love you too, that doesn't cut it! Say it like you mean it! Say I love you!". Poor thing couldn't sleep until he finally said "Yes, DG I love you now shut the fuck up and let me sleep."
  

• At around 6am, when we were getting ready to pass out, I don't know what happened but A and I started making out. And it wasn't tame. According to GayBF "You guys were making out hardcore! Like, pulling each other's hair and stuff. Like you've been lesbian lovers for a long time." I honestly do not remember most of that, but from what I do, it was DAMN hot.

In tomorrow's episode: Parents using us as examples of how not to act in public, the tale of the raging hangover, adventures in babysitting after only 2 hours of sleep and...

MORE DRINKING!

Cheers, (Legal ones. Finally!)

Douchegirl.

A drugged up chipmunk.

I had my wisdom teeth removed on Thursday. All four of them. To say I look pretty unattractive right now is an understatement. I have swollen, bruised up cheeks (seriously, I bruise like a peach and the surgery has me sporting some lovely black, blue, green and yellow bruises on my face), dry lips (because it hurts too much to open my mouth to put chapstick on), eyebrows that need to be waxed (because I had an appointment for Saturday but there is NO WAY IN HELL I'll go to the mall looking like this), and an overall drugged up look to my face.

I don't think I've ever been in so much pain and I'm so annoyed that I've had to stay in bed for 5 days straight. I can't eat anything that's not "soft and mushy" (i.e: ice cream, mashed potatoes, soups, yogurt, jello) which was fine for the first two days but now I'm craving real food. I tried to eat some pasta but was rudely awakened when the pain it caused me made me cry. Like my mom so eloquently put it "You know it's bad when she refuses to eat pasta."

The only upside to this whole ordeal was the fact that I got 3 days off work (Thursday, Friday and Monday) and that I've been laying (lying?) around watching mindless and nerdy TV. Hello "Toddlers and Tiaras" and "Gangland". Oh, and I also became very close friends with about 10 Lifetime movies. My mom has been pretty great too. She took Thursday and Friday off to go to surgery with me and to take care of me and to "just be here in case you need me". Moms > anyone else in the world. She's put up with my whining, my crying, my food demands, my medicine schedule and my need of hugs and kisses ha ha. God, my mom is a saint. Maybe I should bake her a cake. From scratch. Or cookies. From the store.

Other than that, I got calls and texts from random people and a visit from my two girl coworkers. I should just stop calling them coworkers and go right ahead and call them my friends. Did you know there was a time in my life when I had ONE friend? Seriously. Just one. My BFF. She was it. The weird thing is that I kinda sorta didn't want to be friends with her anymore but couldn't bring myself to break it up because then? I would have NO friends. Things kept getting better and better in the friend department, though. Now I have a BAZILLION friends (not really, more like 10) and it's really nice.

In guy news, guess who keeps calling and texting and generally bothering me even though I told him a million times to stop? Yup. My ex. Also, there's two new guy prospects that I need to tell you about.

Tomorrow, though. Right now, I need to take my old friend Oxycodone and pass the hell out.

I've met my soulmate

I met a guy who....

-Makes me laugh every single time he says something.
-For some weird reason, finds me equally hilarious.
-Loves mindless TV shows.
-Says things like "It's ok... I love you and your tiny boobs."
-Loves music as much (or maybe even more) than I do.
-When this song came on he said "Douchegirl! That's our song!"
-Doesn't care what anyone thinks of him and encourages me to do the same.
-Whenever I over share with him I ask him "Too much?" and he always answers "It's never too much."
-Is Dominican (you know I live for Dominicans and Pto Ricans) and sometimes talks to me in Spanish with that accent that makes me MELT!
-Was a drama geek in high school. Just like me. Except, I was too busy pretending I was cool to actually try to do something about my drama geekiness.
-Knows lots and lots about movies and can quote most movies I love.
-Accepts and actually embraces my nerdiness/dorkiness. He has said to me "Wow! You are so dorky. It's ok, though. I love dorks."
-Loves the bottle as much as I do. Well, no. I don't think anyone loves the bottle as much as I do. Damn, that made me sound like such an alcoholic.
-Is the sweetest, kindest, most loving person I've ever met.



Too bad he doesn't like girls =(