For Real

A Conversation Between Soul Mates:

Scene Opens to a long distance phone call:


Me (As read in a tone signifying the importance of one bearing her confidence to the man she loves): ...blah blah blah...significant things...blah blah....body image issues...blah blah

Geoff (Interrupting): Wait! I have something important to tell you before you go on.

Me (Touched to be interrupted by what will undoubtedly be a compliment and a request to stop doubting my beautiful self. Gorgeous man, cant bear to hear me self deprocate): Yes?

Geoff (Obviously pleased with himself): There's a movie coming out in June...

Me (Slightly miffed on the obvious lack of compliment but thinking perhaps the conversation is taking an intellectual turn in which he will suggest a documentary on the entrapment of women in a society hell bent on making them feel badly about themselves): ...

Geoff: Check it out. Nazi... Zombies... (pause to allow for the apparent magnitude to set in) Seriously.

End Scene.

Singular Understanding

A very good friend of mine was broken up with this week.

I have no interest in revealing who this person is on the internet, but suffice it to say she is a singularly fantastic soul that was tragically under appreciated by the ass clown that was lucky enough to get to touch her boobies for 6 months.

She is taking it really really well. I remember my last breakup pre-Geoff that started with me taking 8 shots of tequila with my then roommates and ended with me trying to explain to a near stranger why its normal that I sometimes cry and burp tequila whilst making out on a bar stool. And I didnt even like that relationship that much.

Turns out there are classier ways to do things.

She has decided to avoid alcohol (clever girl) and perhaps barstools all together for a while, and is instead pouring her attention into more productive things like how to steal wine from his house.

In the meantime I have volunteered to deface his car (in a non-permanent, cant-get-arrested-for kind of way) and talked straight trash about him for the last three days. Because fuck him thats why.

Supportive, thy name is Mariana.

And Then My Heart Dropped Out of My Butt.

Being a generally productive and yet alarmingly naive member of society, I paid my taxes.

I saved my W-2 without the ado of last year, an adventure that required me to dumpster dive for the first and preferably last time in my life. But, being a quick learner, I opened that puppy and put it straight into the "vitally important" stack of mail on my entry table. Its the stack right next to the "not as important" and "coupons for things I might like to eat someday" stacks. I am nothing if not organized.

And in true testament to my adulthood, I didn't just leave that form in the dis-appropriately named stack to be discovered months later while searching for a long forgotten gift certificate. No. I actually used the damn thing to fill out government paperwork. Ok. I lie. I sent it to my Dad. Yes. The man still does my taxes. What?

The point is, I got the W2 to the appropriate tax paying receptical, and sat back waiting for my refund. Because given that my monthly paycheck shows me how much has been appropriated, and that amount is roughly the sum I used to get paid in my intern days, I assumed the ole GovT was done with me. And you know what assuming does. Makes an ASS out of the ME that thought she was getting a grip of REFUND.

I got an email from my Dad's tax woman (it sounds kinky but it isn't) asking me several questions, since this year has brought her the added joy of doing Geoff's taxes too. And I blithely hit "reply", chuckling to myself about all the Cadbury Eggs and sunless tanner I would buy with my refund. Until I got to the end of her message. And here is where today's post title comes in. My heart dropped out of my butt (a place it is never meant to drop out of) as I read that I OWED a substantial amount. OWED. ME. OWED. NO REFUND. Heart. In. Butt.

I hate taxes and I hate the government and Im pretty sure I want to delorean my ass (and subsequently attached heart) back to a time when April brought me things like refunds and Cadbury eggs and sunless tanner. Instead of what Im stuck in now, which is an April where I CANNOT AFFORD ANY CADBURY EGGS. What the hell Obama? I voted for your ass. Least you could do is kick me a refund.

What the NASDAQ Means To Me

I know this makes me sound fiscally unsound and regrettably immature (why hide it, i say) but the plummeting economy has re-enlivened me. Sales everywhere! 40% OFF! 50%! The mind reels at all of the irresponsible shopping possibilities! Exclamation points!

You call it mindless spending, I call it supporting our local economy with the purchasing of adorable spring shoes and dresses. Anything less would be selfish.

Dont Be Surprised If I Actually Do This

Martha Stewart tells me I need wedding favors. She is very adamant about this. I am free to a wide variety of low tariff crap, including but not limited to low tariff crap I bake and wrap myself, but nevertheless, if I am to have any kind of wedding, I am to have favors. Adorable, thoughtful, color coded favors. Goddam Martha.

Geoff and Mariana: The perfect pear (intentional misspell painted on the side of a tacky pear candle).

Instead, I turn to Kerri for favor advice. True to form we immediately nix any hope of punnery airbrushed onto useless shit. And this is what came of two genius minds combined. What I like best is how satisfied we are with ourselves.

2:47 PM kerri: you could bake a bunch of shit

i freaking got it

tiny booze bottles

2:48 PM member how cute they were?

and then say, "geoff and mariana: drunk in love..."

haha

2:49 PM or "geoff and mariana: the perfect drunks"

2:50 PM or "geoff and mariana: it's water"

or "geoff and mariana: why don't we get drunk and screw"

oh man

make me stop

2:54 PM me: no i love them

keep them coming

2:55 PM kerri: "geoff and mariana: he had to liqour her up to get her to agree to this shit"

geoff and mariana: because marriage is better when you're hammered"

2:56 PM me: i love you forever

kerri: but really, i think thats a good idea

i bet bev mo would give you a discount

since you'd be buying them in bulk

2:58 PM me: i fucking love you

this is going on my blog

you are welcome

kerri: ah hell

i'm gonna be famous

2:59 PM me: you sure are

kerri: yay

me: i think i want to try

kerri: i could come up with more

ps. that HAS to be your wedding favor

3:00 PM me: geoff and mariana: enabling each other since 2005

kerri: thats funny

3:01 PM me: geoff and mariana: dont let them be the only drunk people here

3:02 PM kerri: geoff and mariana: saying "i do" to being shit shows for life

3:03 PM me: geoff and mariana: nothing says love like 1.2 oz of tequila

kerri: haha

me: geoff and mariana: better together, best when drunk

3:04 PM kerri: geoff and mariana: for your hangover tomorrow morning

me: god i really want to do this now

kerri: geoff and mariana: cheers to sloppy sex

i think you probably have to

me: these are too damn good

More on the Possibly Cursed Chonees Later.

Reasons I Should Have Stayed in Bed Today
(in no particular order)

1. I took a swan dive off of some stairs. I imagine it looked pretty graceful, flying through the air, but I blew it on the landing. Chinese judge only gave me a 4.4 on execution.

2. When I was tumbling ass over ankles I realized I was wearing tights, not leggings, and thus gave the gaggle of students behind me an unprecedented view of my new (possibly cursed!) chonees.

3. My lean cuisine lunch was a garlic pizza that taught me two things in its brief life. a) pizza is not meant to be microwaved, as it tastes like bunions, and b) garlic creamy pizza will come back to haunt you.

4. I spent a solid chunk of my morning trying to get a $100 dollar gift card for participating in a survey with my health care provider. The whole spectacle ended with me telling the automated phone system to "eat dog shit and die". It informed me that it did not have an extension for that.

5. The rain has turned my hair into a tumbleweed growth hellbent on committing suicide off the left side of my scalp. It is not a flattering look.

Dude. I'm going home to self medicate with pizza (from an oven, as the good lord intended it to be prepared) and a tivo-ed episode of Big Love. And where the hell is Geoff to rub my feet?

Apologies All Around.

If you need to talk to anyone about the lack of posting here lately, you can take your complaints right to my immune system that has pretty much turned Benedict Arnold on me lately. I spent last week playing the role of the chick from the Exorcist, and all of this week leaking my soul out of my nose.

Not that Im dramatic or anything.