You know what sucks about having a super epic weekend?

The fact that super epic weekends are pretty hard to top, and I spend the next weekends whining about now unepic the current weekends are.

Last weekend was, possibly, the best weekend I'll ever have in my life, unless Art Alexakis decides to mosey his cute little behind over to my house. It involved a decently famous comedian (if you're my facebook friend, I'm sure you can figure it out), some of my favorite friends, a comedy club in Syracuse, spontaneous dance parties, Fruit Roll-Up drinks, throwing vodka at a bartender, watching a man throw himself onto the ground, cat-ear party hats, rape tunnels, and an awkward morning in front of outstanding members of a cheerleader's convention.

Yeah.

So, I'm coming off of this pretty sweet "I blankedyblanked a decently famous person" high and I tried to go out last night and have some fun and... I couldn't. I hated the bar, I hated the patrons (aside from my friends), I hated standing and pretending that THIS was a good time when I know what a real good time actually is. And so I stamped my pretty little feet and whined and went home. I'm going to try again tonight, but chances are I've ruined all future weekends.

Oh well, it was totally worth it.

My feelings... let me show you them.

(Disclaimer: it's very, very rare that you'll see emotion from me on the blog, unless puppies are dying or I miss Art Alexakis being in town by one freaking day... and it's because I'm generally unscathed by everyday life (erm, I'm an asshole mostly). But I can't take the following lightly and you, loyal followers of the most pointless blog ever, now get to see me in a pretty shaken state.)

I had a very dear friend in high school. We helped each other through a rough time socially, bonded over drama, and became very close - like "if I'm not home, I'm at her house" close. We went to neighboring colleges and joined the marching band together and everything was fine. And then I made some inexplicably retarded choices (choices that inevitably came to define my years at SU) that were less-than-awesome. She probably couldn't understand how or why I'd throw so many things straight out the window and change in such asinine ways (and not for the better, might I add) and she probably even said these things to me... but all I could hear was "blah blah blah I'm jealous that you have new friends and a new life."

I realize today that she was simply worried about me - like any good friend would be. But I ignored all of her advice, did my thing, and lost touch with her for five years.

Then her (now ex-) boyfriend did some Pretty Horrible Things. I read about it in the news and it made my skin crawl, and I'd rather not rehash things here. On a complete whim, I sent her a message - just a quick note, saying I know it's been so long but I'm thinking about you and stay strong.

I hope the message brought just a little solace to her life - because my heart is literally breaking for this girl. Though I realize words will do little at a time like this (especially words from someone who fell out of your life), I hope she knows my true intentions in sending the message weren't to be an asshole, or to dredge up monstrous feelings about our former friendship when she needs her efforts focused elsewhere, but instead as a sincere outreach and an ode to the years we spent as best friends.

I think it did make a little bit of a difference, I think she understood what I was doing... because I heard back from her, quite unexpectedly. We spent the morning chatting back and forth and have exchanged phone numbers. I know things can't go back to the way they were - between us, and between her and him - but maybe we can salvage a little something; maybe I can let her lean on me this time, instead of weighing her down with all of my problems like before.

i love game, let's play game.

I have to admit: I love playing the game. There is no greater thrill than walking into an establishment, calling dibs on someone, and leaving with a phone number (or a Facebook friends request... shut up) in the end. I love using fuck-me eyes to my fullest advantage, I love having boobs that will make men buy me drinks. I also love using unconventional tactics to call attention to myself and entrap my prey.

DANCE FOR ME, PUPPETS, DANCE!

It's all incredibly enthralling. The fleeting glances; the smug shit-eating grins; the grinding on old, married men and pretending nothing happened and playing dumb when they feel your thigh on the back of their legs and spin around to catch the culprit (and now this is reading like a bad porno... wonderful). I'm guilty of it all and I'm not in the least bit ashamed... I unabashedly enjoy myself and it shows.

Even more exciting than the easy catch (AKA the dudes that fall victim to cleavage) are the ones you have to work for. If I'm at 90% of my game, the guys are at 100%: it never fails. We all love the game - why the fuck else would anyone go to a bar otherwise? I enjoy the old "kill the friend with kindness and take the hot route to the one you want" routine... but sometimes the friend is completely oblivious (or clinically retarded) and just. doesn't. get. it. So then I switch gears and take alternative approaches, like striking up conversations about ridiculous minutiae of everyday life.

Because pickup lines don't work and I won't try them.

(Except that sometimes I make trivial jokes that turn into really bad pickup lines.)

And sometimes the game works... like maybe 60% of the time, every time. The easy catches are the most disappointing, because what's in a meal if you don't have to work for it? The tough ones are more confidence-boosting, obvious reasons notwithstanding. But the most exciting - and most rewarding, in my clearly humble opinion - are the times when you have to steal what you want out of the grips of another woman.

And they're obviously inferior women if they can't manage to snare it and keep it on the freaking line.

Now I know I'm not the chick with the hot body and perfect face and hair... I'm kind of a fatty, I have to buy my bras at fatty stores (hello Target? Please stock higher than a D-cup... thanks), and I can't squeeze my ass into the perfect size 6. I even enjoy watching Biggest Loser and eating potato chips because I'm an ironic asshole with no heart. But I've come to peace with my body and I'm not going to change it to nab some dudes at the bar... I haven't had any trouble, so why fix what's not broken? What I lack in muscle definition I make up for tenfold in boobs, brains, and self-fucking-confidence.

But still, it always delights me when I'm able to snag a guy that some other woman's been talking to all night. Most of the time, they don't know how to play the game - they set about their course meekly and it's evident. (I want to go all Gordon Ramsey on their ass and shout "HAVE A LITTLE FUCKING CONFIDENCE, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" in a British accent but fear that might be creepy as balls.) So I sit and I wait for an opening - maybe the chick's gotta leave to pee, maybe the dude looks like he's going to pass out from boredom and needs to be rescued, maybe the cougar just got a little too friendly and barfing is imminent... that's when I move in.

Once in a great while, I'll get gut rot from the guilt of doing this, but let's be honest - IT'S A GAME. If you don't play defense, you're not going home with the win so you best put on your big girl panties and give it a fight.

Last night's effort (imaginatively dubbed "Amanda's Return to Singledom") wasn't fruitless... Came, saw, conquered, now have plans for next weekend. Breaking up fucking sucks - and playing the game is more of a distraction than anything serious - but it's nice to know that I haven't lost my edge.

Or my push-up bra.

lulzy times

Well hello there world (or hello there four followers, one of which I talk to outside of this and knows my life story even when I don't update). I write far more often on LiveJournal... again... because I can't make up my mind (about a lot of things) and it's just easier to screen out the riffraff that way. But here you go... here's an incredibly condensed list of my life in the last month or so.

1) Killed iPhone, got another iPhone.

Why is this #1? Because I'm not really sure how I survived before I had one - or during the month that I didn't have one. It's cocaine for my fingers.

2) Went to Florida, tried not to kill people.

Disney is not the hap-hap-happiest fucking place on earth, just so you know. It rained (and by "rain" I mean "torrential downpours of doom and there was a tornado 25 miles from the hotel and I hid in the bathtub because I'm five years old") for two days, saw two baseballs games (both in which the Mets lost... go figure), did two days of Disney (and ate and drank my way around the world), and dealt with a lot of asshats the entire time. I did find a Jeff Bridges lookalike and spent a bit trailing him through China... alas, his ass was just not the same. Also, Nick Evans was injured (NO BB MET... sad days), missed Ben Folds by four days and Art Alexakis by MERE HOURS (and I'm still pissed off about it).

3) School.

Takes up my entire fucking existence. I've spent the better part of five hours per night in the last two weeks doing the most mundane nonsense (midterms, journal reviews, making a spreadsheet that calculates averages and percentages, blah blah blah). I had a test in HR today that I couldn't be assed to study for (because I was watching a zombie movie last night... brains are better than human resources, of course). I have As in all my classes but economics... in which I have a B+. Getting good grades is nice but so tiring.

4) Work.

I have one thing to look forward to at work... and it's not the paycheck, because they could pay me $30/hour and it frankly wouldn't be enough to deal with the bullshit that comes out of peoples' (yeah, plural) mouths. Um, rumors are funny, bitches can go STFU, and assless chaps are incredibly hot.

5) TAX RETURN.

Oh hellooooooooo dollars! Education credits are the best and have allowed me to start saving for a new car (oh shit son).

I got nothin' else.

goodbye cubes D=

My iPhone is now a $200 flashlight.

The moral of the story is Amanda shouldn't handle electronics after she's done a power hour... or after drinking in general. I've busted a phone while drunk before; it was 2005 at a band party, and I remember dropping it and it breaking into three pieces and making my friends put it back together... and it happened three times in a row. So I should have learned my lesson.

I never learn lessons.

Now the screen turns white. It still works if you wanna get all technical about it, and frankly, if I were hellbent on still keeping it, I could make like a blind man and touch the screen where the things SHOULD be, but then I might end up calling 911 instead of my boyfriend. (What do you mean, 911 doesn't like it when I talk dirty to them?) But Apple wants to charge me $200 to repair the white-out screen and AT&T won't talk to me because I'm not an "authorized user" (hey! fuck you too!)... so I went to Radio Shack, bought a $30 go-phone, put my SIM card in and now I have a perfectly functioning flip phone.

With T9 word.

And a really terrible font.

And I can't choose my default ringtone.

And I can't check my email.

It has no camera, no front display (um... how am I supposed to screen my calls ffs?), no internet capabilities, NO CUBES (this is the saddest part of all) or other games... I can basically call, text (not easily) and set an alarm.

But I've made my bed and I'll lay in it. I turned off my data plan - well, had my dad turn off the data plan, because AT&T says I don't exist - and have been kicking it old school by checking my email on *GASP* the computer. I'm thinking about getting a Blackberry (on eBay) with my tax return, but not completely sold on making the switch. It'll be fine, I can talk to people...

...but GOD DAMN this is like quitting cocaine cold-turkey.

oh, you don't know the shape i'm in.

Shit guys, I never update.

Joe and I are back together... please sigh your collective sighs and leave your whys at the door, I'm tired as balls of hearing them. We're happy and in love and got a Christmas tree and named him Frederick and I made a star for the top out of tinfoil and duct tape (sweet MacGyver skills brah!). I currently have $300 in my savings account for our trip to Florida in March - five blissfull days of Mets spring training, Disney World, Disney World, and more Disney World.

(I love Disney World.)

I finished out my first semester at sunyit with a lovely, round 3.0. I could have done better (um, I didn't do a LOT of assignments in my online classes, but still ended up with a B and an A-) but I PASSED CALCULUS. I'm still not sure what a derivative is... or does... but I do know that I'll never need to take that or the antiderivative of any equation ever again. I'm also not sure in what universe that a C+ could be rendered from having test scores of 93 and 42 and quiz grades in the 60s unless I got a 100 on the final (no chance, not at all) or Zora felt like making my Christmas special. Either way, I APPROVE.

I got an amazing phone call from my tech writing professor (who, I'm fairly certain, didn't know my name until halfway through the semester). I won't say tons about it now, but it involves me going to NYC the day after Christmas, a pretty sweet concert, and obviously my writing skills. To say I'm stoked is an understatement...

I HAVE REALLY BAD RLS.

Like, really freaking bad.

Not a lot else going on, honestly. Working a lot... and finally falling into part-time status instead of the per diem that I've been for the last six years. Still no pay raise, but I recently brought in upwards of $200K in revenue, so I'm hoping to see something from that! (Really I just would like to earn my money for Florida and not have to sell all of my personal belongings and maybe my vagina on the internet...)

I still wonder all the time if I fought as hard as I could have and should have to make the relationship work. I still wonder why I threw it all away because I wake up every morning and think "I shouldn't be alone here." I still wonder if the impetus was really worth it like I thought it was, because my phone doesn't ring when it's supposed to and I don't feel complete like I wanted to and it makes me self-medicate to the point of withdrawal of everything else. I wonder why I can't see him and not cry and I wonder how I can even bear to hang out with him when all I want to do is make it okay. I still wonder if he thinks that I didn't put 100% into the relationship... and I wonder if he'll ever think otherwise.

It's been a month and I still wonder if I made the biggest mistake of my life.

put a little love in it.

I have this problem called MY LIFE IS A WHIRLWIND AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START.

1) It's not easy moving on from someone that you've been so close to for a year and a half. Everything just fell apart within the last month and I have nobody to blame but myself, but it is what it is. We're trying to be friends... it's just really difficult. Like, I wish he could just be mad at me so he could move on; I hate seeing him sad. But we'll try to make friends work.

2) I learned that I can write 10 pages of term paper in 2.5 hours. Pretty sure this means I'm a winner.

3) I have a new friend. His name is Greg. Sometimes we drink until 4am and talk about our insane lives. Other times we play Trivial Pursuit. Other times he hits me with his billy club and me him with my wrecking balls. It's a magical friendship and I give it an A+, just like the grades we're both going to get in technical writing.

4) Velociraptor means speed... SPEED DINO.

5) I understand derivatives! I don't understand the rest of the stuff in calculus though.

6) Halloween was what it was. I was a pin-up girl on Friday and a beat-up trophy wife on Saturday. Men really liked my boobs on both of these nights.

7) I have a whole lot of zero dollars in my bank account. Think I've got to cut back on my alcohol consumption... because drinking is money and then I have to eat so I'm not so drunk and that's money and then I have to get some smokes and those are money and a drunken night in ends up being $50. I sold two pairs of my plugs and am hoping my money transfer goes through by Wednesday evening or else... or else I have no money to drink on Wednesday.

8) And do other things on Wednesday, but that's neither here nor there.

9) I don't really sleep much anymore. My parents went to Florida two weeks ago and I spent most of those nights in a haze, passing out at 5am and waking up at 10am (far too late for calculus) to get ready for work. Since then, my sleep schedule has been off kilter... and that's why I'm WIDE FUCKING AWAKE right now.

10) Got two new front tires for my car - an early Christmas present from my dad. Did you know that you should be able to drive through a puddle without hydroplaning? This is a new concept for me.

There are 10 trillion things in between the 10 I've mentioned here that I'm not going to go into detail about because I wouldn't even know where to begin. But this is the biggest gist of it all, I promise....

i took some time to mess up my life and it's almost perfect.

All I have to say is Shamwow.

(Minus the Sham part, plus some bubbles and a corncob pipe. Oh... and a bruised toe, a brick of a pillow, and the fucking Oxford comma.)

Ooooh... real cryptic.

you weren't born when that song was written, were you?

I really wish I had something worthwhile to post. Instead... it's motherfucking list time.

- I work six days a week now. I shouldn't complain - I finally get decent hours (unlike over the summer where I was practically blowing HR to give me a day) and working on weekends means I can do my homework but my tasks are so mundane. Here Amanda, go file all these employee records and see whose folder is missing (um, like half of them). Amanda, go to the bank... and get coffee for everyone. I'm even helping the administrator and get the mind-numbing task of tallying the census. Just give me a job description and DAILY TASKS. And a desk that people won't steal from me. AND FOR FUCKS SAKE DO NOT CALL ME IN ON MY DAY OFF (this means you, mother).

- My grandpa is doing better. The one super thing about my job is that, because he's living at the facility for rehab, I get to see him everyday. And his day-to-day progress is ridiculous. Two weeks ago he was on a respirator, had pneumonia and sepsis and wasn't expected to get any better... now he's doing laps around the lobby and eating regular food and listening to the Yankees (much to my chagrin, but hey...). 

- I'm off the baseball bandwagon 'til spring training. There's no point in watching when your team barely even shows up for games (oh they're physically there [uh, the ones that are healthy enough] but so complacent that they literally don't even swing. And Jerry won't give Nick Evans a chance so I'm also on the "I hate Jerry" bandwagon because Nick Evans is dreamy and has more talent than pretty-faced Daniel Murphy). Joe and I have been tossing the idea around of going to PSL for spring training, but of course we know that means I'll be dumped at the end of January, taken back a day before Valentine's Day (and spend the hours before promising hosts at Pascale dirty bathroom sex in exchange for a table) and then not actually going to PSL...

Shut up, I'm still bitter.

- Scott and Katie's wedding reception was awesome. The actual CEREMONY scared me - Jesus was in a pressure cooker, they need to have lots of Catholic babies, blah blah blah - but the reception was crazy. Open bar, super DJ (a distinct lack of "Sister Christian" but I begged, I swear), hot lesbian all over me and awkward ignorance of Joe's ex-girlfriend shoving her tongue down some Bangladeshi man's throat... oh, and two flasks of cherry vodka. I don't know how I didn't die.

- Gridley Paige played yesterday. Tim (singer) announced to everyone that I have a crush on Matt (dreamy Ben Folds/Paul Rudd hybrid piano/guitar player). Wonderful. They played Dr. Feelgood and it was AMAZING. And Sister Christian LOVE IT.

Obviously everything is (generally) fine, and nothing is (generally) fucked...