They Say Love Is In The Air

My current occupation (washing dishes) provides me with plenty of time to become caught up in my thoughts. Which isn't always a good thing. I hope to one day have a career that engages me enough that my humiliating personal life never enters my mind.

So, what revelation was made today as I scrubbed mustard and mayonnaise off of plates? How incredibly single I am. Now, of course this is nothing new. In fact, it's something I've almost gotten used to. The new realization was, for having such an extreme fear of rejection, I've hardly ever put myself out there. Of all the crushes that I've had in my life time, I told only two about my feelings. Just two. The rest figured it out, or assumed. There's nothing quite as magical as getting turned down by a guy you didn't even like in the first place. So why the fear?

The first time was in 5th grade. It was a boy in the classroom next to mine. The girls in my 5th grade class were very boy crazy, whereas the boys' heads hadn't yet developed past "I love my Gameboy more than my mom." There were two boys, only two, in the whole 5th grade at Shenandoah Valley Elementary School that ALL the girls had crushes on. They either liked one or the other, and never anyone else. If your friend was into one, you had to like the other or else the friendship was over. It was the same way with members of boy bands. Thus, you can see where I already had a lot of obstacles. Probably the biggest thing in my way of getting either of these boys, bigger than their lack of sexual maturity, was my high levels of dorkitude.

For starters, I was on the bottom of the Popularity totem pole. Not really sure why. I've always been kind of different, not everyone gets my humor. I also started puberty a lot sooner than most of my classmates, so while most girls had issues like "which butterfly clips go better with this outfit," I had problems like "why the hell is there hair under my armpits" and "I didn't know pimples were supposed to be this big." Looking back it doesn't really bother me, but it killed me back then. I did not understand why people thought I was weird, but I figured they had to be right. So there was nothing I could do about it. Secondly, I was taller than everyone. There was one kid taller than me, Michael Douglas (At least I think that was his name...), who I'm pretty sure came out of the womb at six feet. I was 5'4", and everyone else was under 5 feet. I was tall, I was weird, and I could not possibly blend in if I tried. And blending in at age 11 was all I wanted.

Anyway, I liked Boy 2 in the class next door because my best friend liked Boy 1, who was in our class and rode my bus. Boy 1's desk was across from mine. I remember writing in my diary one day that he rubbed his foot on my pant leg. He had taken his shoes off, and I guess thought that my leg was part of his desk. I thought he was playing "footsie" with me, and it was very scandalous in Libby-Diary-Land. I was going to move to another school district for middle school, so a friend (who must've seen something like this on television or something) convinced me to go for it. "You can't leave never knowing what could have happened..." It sounds like something straight from a late 90's prime-time teen drama. I took her advice. I wish I'd thought it through though. I didn't even wait until the end of the year. I did it right smack dab in the middle of the year, so I still had to see him for another 4 months. It was during Poms rehearsal, I snuck back into the empty classroom and placed a note of the "Check Box Yes or No" variety inside his desk. It was a very high stress moment for me. All of my happiness was riding on how he would respond to that note. I'd never been heart broken before, but I had seen a lot of Disney Princess movies so I knew it couldn't be good. The same friend who suggested I write the note told me the next day that upon finding it, he announced to the class that he "hated my guts."  I was crushed. And it wasn't even a real thing, I only liked him by default. I spent the next four months shouting mean things at him whenever I saw him, and growing more hair in strange places.

The second time, I'm not going to go into detail. Maybe some later day when the shame isn't so fresh. My head still hurts from the amount of facepalm. It was kinda like this. A lot of me yelling at myself afterwards:

Which is why I will never see that guy ever again in my life. It's really a bummer because he was one of the coolest guys I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I wish for once I could just be normal. But that won't ever happen. At this point I think the "fear" of rejection is just an evolutionary instinct set in to protect me from embarrassing myself. As in:

Me: I think I should tell that guy that I like him.
Sub-Conscious Me: No, don't do that. We've tried that. It never goes well.
Me: But, it'll be easy, I'll just be confident and honest.
Sub-Conscious Me: No, that's what you think is going to happen, but you never end up saying what you planned. You always have to improvise and everything goes to shit.
Me: Nah, I got this, me! I am so confident of how awesome this is going to be! I feel so empowered!!
Sub-Conscious Me: Okay, well I'm not watching.

That's okay though. Somewhere out there is a total weirdo, hating life, and wondering when he's going to meet me. Until then, I guess I'll just lower my standards.

Decision 2012

LG: Thank you all for being here today to watch one of many boring debates between President Barack Obama and hopeful Republican candidate, former Governor Mitt Romney. Welcome gentlemen. We all know why you're here, so I don't really need to explain, do I? No. Good. So let's get straight to it.

You both have expressed opposing view points on all of the serious problems polarizing this country: abortion, gay marriage, health care, what we should do to fix the budget, just to name a few. However, there is one issue that has yet to be debated. It's incredibly serious, and has been causing chaos since the mid 1990's. Friendships have been ended, riots have been started, families torn apart. I'm speaking of course about The Great Boy Band Debate: N 'SYNC vs Backstreet Boys. It troubles me that this issue has not been discussed at all, not just during this election process, but all the way back to when Clinton was in office. No more. Your country needs answers. 

Mr. Romney, we'll start with you. What is your position?

MR: I was really hoping to use this time to discuss my plans to solve the budget crisi-

LG: Irrelevant.

MR: It's actually incredibly relevant-

LG: Not to me and other girls in my age bracket. Look, Mitty. You lost a lot of love from us 18-24 year olds with that whole "I totes disagree with that amendment saying that religious institutions providing healthcare should be exempt from covering contraception.... Oh wait, JK. I agree 100%. I just misunderstood the question. Woopsie!" You wanna get us girls on your side? Discuss the things that matter to us! Now, once more. BSB or N 'Sync, which do you prefer?

MR: Oh, alright. I consider myself an originalist. Backstreet Boys started in 1993, two whole years before N 'Sync followed suit. I'm on team Backstreet Boys, because they were the first boy band of the 90's. Ya know, besides all the other ones before them.

LG: Okay, Mr. Romney. I have here a statement you made in 2002 on your blog. I quote "I heart N 'Sync!!! JT and Mitt BFF 4 EVER!!!" 

MR: I, uh, I don't recall ever saying that. 

LG: Sir, I have evidence that you did in my hands right now.

MR: I've changed my mind.

LG: Right... Let's move on.

MG: Yes, let's.

LG: Mr. President?

BO: Originality is good. It sets a standard for all that follows. What my opponent fails to see is that it also paves the way for improvement. In 1998, America was introduced to a new quintet of teen boys. A better quintet. Team N 'Sync. 

MR: The President seems to be uninformed on the topic. It's an issue that can be easily decided if you take a look at the numbers. BSB sold over 100 million albums while N 'Sync barely sold half that amount. And if so many records were sold, there must be a reason. Just as there is a reason there have been 18 Republican presidents and only 13 Democrats [smug chuckle].

BO: Well, Mr. Romney, what makes a good band, or a good president, is not about quantity. It's about quality. 

LG: Very good insights. I want to delve deeper into this debate and nail out some specifics within the topic. What makes a good boy band? I'll be using this list of 6 criterion for the two of you to make your decisions:

1. Hotties
2. Awesome Music Videos
3. Killer Dance Moves
4. Good Hair
5. Interesting Personal Lives
6. Legacy

Okay first area is Hotties. Let's have a look:

MR & BO: Tie.

LG: Okay, easy agreement. Round 1 = TIE

Moving on, Round 2: Awesome Music Videos. 

MR: Oh we so win this one. The video for "I Want It That way" boasts over 46 million views on YouTube.

They're in an airport, first of all. So relatable. You see them getting on a private jet. Or hanging around a private jet. I don't think they actually ever get on it. As far as costumes, they go from awesome to excellent. First they hit us with coordinating blazer/trenchcoats and then they wow us with matching white outfits. And those special effects! Are they there? Are they not? How are people walking through them? Did that line of carts hurt Howie when it ran over him? I don't know, it's like magic! And, it may just be me, but when Brian sings, it feels like he's touching my soul. I tell ya what, if I wasn't so strongly anti-homosexuality, Brian and I would have some good times.

LG: Excellent...points... Mr. Romney... Mr. President, what would you like to add?

BO: Mr. Romney, I see your 5 brooding guys walking around an airport, and I raise you 5 Dancing Action Figures:

It may not have nearly as many views. But, come on. It kicks ASS!!!

LG: Round 2 = N 'SYNC

Round 3: Killer Dance Moves. This one's no contest at all really, but go ahead, Mr. Romney. Give it your best shot.

MR: I'm gonna give an answer to address two things - The video for "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)":

A) N 'SYNC is not the only one with a totally kick ass video. B) BSB doesn't need any frilly dance moves, they're hot on their own.

 BO: I would make an argument, but I don't need to. The iconic video for "Bye Bye Bye" speaks for itself.

Now, tell me everyone in AMERICA doesn't know this dance? TELL ME.

LG: N 'SYNC WINS ROUND 3 BY DEFAULT.

Round 4: Good Hair. Mr. Romney?

MR: Ha. Easy. Ladies & Gentlemen, Nick Carter:

Compare that perfection to this:

Case closed.

BO: Yeah, I can't even argue with that. Somebody should've told that boy.

LG: Round 4 = BSB. 

Round 5: Interesting Personal Lives. GO!

BO: I'm going to speak first on this one. Everybody remember Justin & Britney? Of course you do. It was the single best meaningless relationship between two teen-pop-sensations to ever happen. America was devastated when they broke up.

MR: With all due respect, Mr. President, I don't think that qualifies as interesting. You know what people find interesting about relationships? Scandal!!

BO: Justin popped Brit's cherry. Boom.

MR: Nick dated Paris Hilton.

BO:  Didn't he beat her up? That kind of scandal is never okay, I know that much. You know what else isn't okay? AJ going to rehab 3 times. 

MR: Lance Bass ended up to be gay! Which, may not be much of a scandal, but it is severely frowned upon in most stuffy conservative circles!!

BO: That wasn't a surprise to anyone. And you know what? His fans welcomed it. 

MR: Brian, had a hole in his heart. He had to have surgery. That's interesting. Gives the boys a little added emotional appeal. Think of all the 13 year old girls who prayed for him every night.

BO: Yes, that was too bad indeed. Perhaps if Obamacare had been around back then, it wouldn't have been an issue.

LG: Round 5 = OBAMACARE!!!

Round 6: Legacy

MR: I would like to once again point out the concrete facts, and say that Backstreet Boys is still a band. They have been a band for almost 20 years, not counting the brief hiatus, and there are only four of them now, but they still live on. Their legacy is all that followed them: One Direction, O'Town, LFO, and even N' SYNC. They are the greatest. What became of N 'SYNC? One's an international super star blahblahblah, one is a host on MTV's America's Best Dance Crew, one is gay, and nobody cares about the other two.

BO: I would have to say JT is what makes N 'SYNC the best. He's the most talented musician to come from a boy band since Michael Jackson. And so what if the Backstreet Boys are still together making music? Just because they are doesn't mean they should be. N 'SYNC left the musical world at a high, and a high is where they will stay forever. Backstreet Boys are driving the band into the ground. It's like watching a failed marriage slowly unravel: the parents are staying together for the kids, only the kids are old enough to see that their parents shouldn't be together, but the couple is still trying anyway. Every day that passes in this family is just awkward and painful. Sure,there's that one hopeful child who still believes everything will work out for the best, but deep deep down they know it won't. The children know it's time for their parents to let go and just accept that it's over. That's what BSB needs to do. Accept that its over. To end on a positive note I would just like to say one more thing: Justin Timberlake. That is all.

LG: Round 6 = JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE

So in conclusion, it looks like overall there were 2 wins for N 'SYNC, 1 win for BSB, 1 win for Obamacare, 1 win for JT (which I think makes 3 wins for N 'SYNC), and 1 tie. So the final score for this debate is N 'SYNC - 3, BSB - 1. Special thanks to President Obama and Mitt Romney for participating in the debate. 

America, remember that whether it's N 'SYNC or BSB, the choice is yours. What matters most is that you voice your opinion and stick up for what you believe in. 

I can't believe I stayed up until 3am writing this weird crap. I'm going to bed now, good night.

"Adulthood"

These past two weeks have been filled with a lot of major life changes: graduated from college, moved into a Big Girl apartment (with a male roommate, who probably doesn't appreciate it being called a "Big Girl" apartment), acquired some stand-in furniture - most of which belongs to my roommate, paid my first rent check, and also for the first time ever I am now a full time employee at the over-priced restaurant I've worked at since October. I'm ready for things to settle down.

A grown-up-type friend explained to me that in the 10 months after graduating college, I will become an adult. I'm pretty sure that's what he said. There's a chance I may have taken what he said out of context, and I'm missing the point completely. I don't know. This is all I took away from the conversation: I have 10 months to reach adulthood.

So what does this mean? What makes a person an adult? How come I'm not adult now? How does one become an adult in 10 months time? Do I have to physically do anything to be an adult, or will it all just happen to me? Why 10 months? What's wrong with a whole year? Do those two extra months really hurt the process that much? Did he go on to explain? Of course not. Thus, I'm left to my own devices to make sense of this cryptic message that probably wasn't as significant as I took it to be after chugging two glasses of wine.

I think it's a decent goal though, so I'm gonna run with it.

By March 5th, 2013, I will have accomplished the following (or tried my hardest):

• Get a real job
• No longer make sandwiches to earn a living
• Work at a place I don't hate with a fiery passion
• I realize those are all related, but that's how badly I need a new job. It's worth 3 separate bullet points.
• Not be unsure of how I'm going to pull off paying rent by the end of the month (Magic? Stripping? We'll see...)
• Be in the habit of waking up before 8am
• Also be in the habit of working out regularly
• Be proficient in the kitchen (or at least be able to properly feed myself)
• Not get sad and binge eat chocolates and cheetos
• Keep my room/apartment tidy and organized
• Always replace the toilet paper when I run out instead of forgetting for the next 2 or 3 urinations and having to do that awkward ass-wiggle thing
• Do laundry regularly so I don't run out of clothing options at the end of the month
• Successfully maintain responsibility for something other than myself (e.g. - a dog, or a plant or something)
• Realize that a dog and a plant are not comparable, and how unsettling it is that I so easily lumped the two together
• Be in a healthy and fulfilling romantic relationship
• If not the previous, then at least be very much involved in some sort of hobby to avoid being pathetic/fat/alone
• Get my oil changed every 3,000 miles, and always have money set aside to pay for it
• Have actual furniture: 
• a real couch so my roommate and I don't have to share a love seat to watch television (not like we'd EVER resort to that anyway.)
• an actual dining room table with chairs
• a fancy & comfortable chair by a window so I can sit and read books that I will actually read
• if "books" ends up only meaning "magazines," I suppose I can be flexible
• Have a decent amount of money saved up, geared towards my "future"
• Figure out what the hell I want for my "future"

I think for the most part, all of that is attainable. The ones I really don't have control over are "Get a job" and "Get a boyfriend," but the rest I can do.  I think. I'll do monthly summaries of the progress I've made or haven't made. If in 10 months I've made something of myself, I will be thoroughly impressed and throw a big party in celebration of reaching adulthood. However, if I fail to make anything of myself... well, I'll blame the grown-up friend. 

Here are some [mundane] pictures of my pretty apartment (the completed parts, excluding my roommate's bedroom because that would be weird) for your viewing pleasure:

My pretty baffroom :) 

Kitchen

A bad attempt at capturing the view from our living room window

Va-what?

PG-13

Recently for my internship I interviewed owners of a waxing salon here in Nashville. I was looking at their website to see what kind of services they offer. They have the ordinary stuff: eyebrows, legs, chin, etc. Totally normal. Until I got to the "Bikini" section. For just $90 you can treat your cooter to a "Designer Brazilian," which, as they put it, cleans up "From here to there!" Now, this was no surprise, as I knew what a brazilian wax was. Where it got weird was the line after, which reads, "Designs available upon request," which would have been puzzling on it's own, but there's more: "or a Vajazzle to add some bling bling!"

First: Designs? Apparently this is a trend. People, women in particular, will have their pubic hair shaved/waxed/whatever into a shape, like a heart, or an arrow, or a smiley face. My first thought is why? WHY would someone want to make their pubic hair look like anything but pubic hair? Who was THAT DAMN BORED one day that they decided to shave their love rug into a heart shape? Who has that much time on their hands? I wonder what kind of things people come up with. The canvas itself is relatively small, so these women have to be creative. Maybe a monogram? Some preppy girl who loves monograms could have her letters daintily chopped in so every time she wipes she's reminded of her initials (or, ya know, whatever other purpose monograms serve. I never really understood them). Maybe girls can start having their names down there to give their one night stands a better shot of remembering. I know for men generally one-night-stands are easy to forget, but you're definitely going to remember the freak who had her named shaved into her pubic hair, amiright? And just how elaborate do these designs get? I want to go into one of these salons and ask them to make it look like Van Gogh's Starry Night just to see if they would do it.

Second: What the HELL is a "Vajazzle??" Lucky for you, I did the research and can now inform you about all things Vajazzle. Warning: You can't un-know this. Sorry.

According to the Vajazzle website, Vajazzling is "the act of applying glitter and jewels to a woman's nether regions for aesthetic purposes." No I am not joking and yes this is totally serious. The rhinestones are glued to your ya-ya and the ladies of the waxing salon tell me they last about 5 days and are not uncomfortable at all. Now, if you have a brain, around this point you are thinking to yourself one of two things: "How could this possibly become popular?" and "Who in their right mind would pay $90 to have this done to them?" Here's your answer:

J-Love. Really betch? Let's look beyond the fact that her poor momma probably bawled her eyes out after she saw this interview for having raised such a tacky daughter. We'll even look past the fact that she's talking about her naughty bits with George Lopez of all people. She experienced a bad break up, like we all do from time to time. What's bizarre is that the best thing she could come up with to get over it was, "You know what would make me feel better? A sparkly vagina!"

I'm not trying to hate on my sex or anything, and I know the human body is beautiful blah blah blah, but the privates are the ugliest parts!! The phrase is "bumping uglies" for a reason, okay? No amount of glued on crystals are going to change that, even if they are Swarovski. Although it is fun to think of all the possibilities. You could get the date of the last time you were tested so all your [unfortunate] partners can feel a little bit better about the encounter. On that same subject, you could break the bad news to them in a fun way, "I have gonorrhea :("  Or you could be mean and spell out "This used to be a penis" to mess with them. I wonder where vajazzle artists draw the line. Is there a line? You're already gluing rhinestones to the "nether region," how can there be any limitations on that?

Maybe one day ad agencies can pick up Vajazzling as a form of non-traditional advertising. Girls could be paid to get crystallized Red Bull cans or slogans like "Have it Your Way" fashioned onto their in-pants billboards. Imagine the money you could make rocking "T-I-C-K-E-T 1" or "877 CASH NOW" on your kaslopis.

In conclusion, euphemisms for external reproductive parts are really fun, and I should be in advertising.

Fake Commencement Speech

We had to write fake commencement speeches for my Senior Capstone class. I wrote this. Sorry if it offends anyone. You know what, no. I'm not sorry. Enjoy. Bitches.

Libby Genz

Commencement Speech

Dear Libby,

     I’m writing this for you to read the day you move in to Belmont University to start your freshman year. Right now, you are sitting in the car, or you are eating breakfast at Grandmama’s house, waiting for Mom to say, “It’s time to go!” You’re nervous and emotional. I will now address each thing you are worried about in this moment, and then share with you some things you can look forward to.

     First, and this will be the hardest to hear: Don’t waste any ounce of energy missing Severus*. I know, he’s your high school sweetheart, and your first love. And yes, he may have cried the day he moved into his dorm when you had to leave. The nights that you plan to stay in so you can video chat with him, or wait for him to call you (heads up: he will almost never call when he says he’s going to, because he’s an ass hole), you could be spending the time doing things on campus; getting to know new people, exploring Nashville. One thing you need to understand about people is that they change their minds. This is just part of life. It will be difficult, but try not to be too mad at him when he changes his in a couple months. You can be a little mad at him for choosing to do it over the phone. Also, if you need someone to focus your anger at when you’re a senior and STILL SINGLE, it’s perfectly okay to blame him even though he has nothing to do with it. It just seems right.

     You’re probably worried you won’t like your roommate. Don’t worry, you will. She won't like your tendency to leave all your clothes on the floor, but you all will get along. Who you won’t like is her arrogant snob fatheaded boyfriend. You’re going to want to leave whenever he comes over, because you don't do a very good job of hiding how much you hate him. I suggest going to the gym and working off that 40 pounds you are going to gain by regularly eating a dinner of rainbow sherbet and a whole can of Pringles. You will eventually reconnect with this wonderful girl once you both are a little older, and you are maintaining your mess in your own room in your own apartment, far, far away from her. Sometimes it takes space to really appreciate a person. (Note: this does not apply to her boyfriend. Space doesn’t help his situation. Nothing can.)

      You will make friends. It will take a really, really long time. Eventually they will form. You will, by chance, meet another Belmont student while you are visiting in Wilmington, North Carolina this summer. He and his friends will end up becoming your close friends as well, so when you see him around campus, don’t do that thing where you pretend to be on the phone so you don’t have to talk to people. While it is a really good method to avoid social contact, it’s really only hurting you in this instance. Talk to the people you sit next to in class. Take genuine interest in the things they have to say. Get to know as many people as you can so you will never have a weekend without plans. Also, never say no if given an invitation. (Well, use discretion, obviously. If you feel like you might get raped or drugged, then say no.) The people who become your close friends will teach you so much. Couple things: on that road trip you all take to New York, bring a book. You’re going to get cranky around hour 8 and no oneis going to want to interact with you again until around hour 11. Also, on the trip you guys take to Holiday world, wear sunscreen. Really though, you’ll so need it. Always cherish every moment you have with these people, because every moment with them is a memory. It’s a story you’re going to tell your children so many times they’ll know it by heart and groan accordingly every time you tell it. Actually – not sure if any of the stories are child appropriate…

     Here’s more: “Natty Ice” is disgusting. Always say no. Vanderbilt parties are never ever worth it. If anyone wants to go to a Vanderbilt party, you know you’re hanging out with the wrong people. That guy in your Intro to Audio/Video Production class you think is cute? Ask him out. I mean, like,yesterday. If you don’t, he’ll end up with a girlfriend and you’ll end up kicking yourself for the next three years for being quiet. When someone is making plans and the word “SATCO” is mentioned, it would be wise to opt out. I know I said to always jump on any social opportunity, but it is important to know that to your body, SATCO = food poisoning. There’s a balcony on the fourth floor of Inman that has a breath taking view of down town. Just saying, it could come in handy when you’re on dates and looking for romantic opportunities.

     In the time when you don’t have a car, make a habit of walking to places. A beautiful love affair will begin with you and fresh air. Walks are your best medicine. They could mean routine if you are needing something familiar. They could give you the adventure you need if you’re looking for change. They lead you to new places. Being outside is cleansing to you.

     Finally, I’ll say this: get to know yourself. Figure out who you are and what you want. Discover where you want to go in life. Don’t let any person walk all over you, or get in the way of you becoming who you’re supposed to be. You have a lot of love to give and you don’t need to waste it all on needy, unappreciative people. Always look out for yourself too, and the people that really care about you will stick around.

Best Wishes,

Libby (4 years later)

P.S. - Look out for a letter from Libby (20 years later) who will hopefully tell you that Severus* is wasting away in a trailer park, balding, with no one to keep him warm at night but his massive beer gut.


*name changed for confidentiality. Chose to use said boyfriend's favorite fictional character's name to make up for having this on the internet for several years using his real name.

I'm Sick of Being Covered in Other People's Food

My first job was hostessing at an Asian food chain called Stir Crazy. I thought it was the worst job in the world. I had no idea.

Now, for the purpose of me not getting fired, I will point out that NO WHERE in this post does it say where I work, since I currently work there and all. People who know me may know the name, but will not mention it because if Libby does not get paid, Libby cannot feed herself, so we will all keep our mouths shut. When my tell all book comes out, you better BELIEVE I will dedicate a chapter to this sorry ass place. 

I've been at work for the majority of the weekend. No time to do much of anything. This right here, writing this post right now is the only time I've had to myself (other than a spontaneous and short dance party with the roomies in honor of Whitney Houston. Some lower flags to half mass, others grieve in different ways. We chose dancing). Now, no, I did not work as much as some of the other people at my job did this weekend. I'm just tired and I want to complain. And you know what, if you don't want to read about my shitty life, than go read someone else's blog. I won't be offended.

Back to work..... ever feel like this?

For the past 48 hours... this has been my inner monologue. On my inside, for the past two days, has been living a Bon Qui Qui that is dying to get out and cut somebody. Think it's a game...

Oh, you want a sandwich with pulled turkey, bacon, cheddar, tomatoes, lettuce, and onions? You want it on a baguette? You what? You want it grilled? Right, so you're not gonna tell me that until I'm almost done making it? RUDE.

You gonna bring that sandwich back saying that you think the baguette is too hard? You can't eat it? Last time you were here you remembered it being softer? So we're gonna need to remake your whole sandwich? RUDE.

You want 2 salads with romaine, tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs, bacon, croutons, cucumbers, almonds, and a bunch of other shit that I've already put away? You want them both tossed? SACCURITY!

You're gonna spend $15 on a salad, only eat the toppings, then leave the entire plate, full of partially eaten food, on your table and not put it in the bin by the trash? GO CHOKE. GO CHOKE ON YOUR $15 BLEU CHEESE CRUMBLES YOU STUPID RICH BASTARD.

Oh I'm sorry, you didn't want nuts on your salad? ORDER YOUR SALAD WITHOUT NUTS, I CAN'T READ YOUR MIND. rude.

Cool, you want a salad with one half prepared for here, and the other half prepared to go? NOPE.

It's 7:04, one minute before we lock our doors, and I've just turned the grill off. So, naturally, all FOUR of your rachet raggeldy ass children want grilled cheeses? GIRR I WILL CUT YOU.

You finna take a massive dump in one of the toilets and clog it up? Cool. You see that plunger RIGHT NEXT TO THE DAMN TOILET? Yeah, you won't be using that will you? Nope. Cause it's not your toilet, right? That's what they're paying ME for, right? RIGHT?? RIGHT?!?!?!?!?!??

Moral of the story, I never was and never will be meant to work in the restaurant industry.

Thank You Disney for Over-Simplifying the Dating Process

But not really.

Liars.

Don't get your panty-things in a wad. I grew up on Disney, and on sad days, I still curl up and watch The Little Mermaid. I'm just confused right now, because things are not turning out the way I thought they would when I was 5. I'm not a movie star, or a princess. I mean, hell, if I was on Little-Mermaid-Time, I would've abandoned my whole family 6 years ago to marry a guy I'd known for 3 days. I consider this a personal failure.

Disney does not prepare girls for unrequited love. I can't think of one Disney Princess who was rejected at any point throughout her respective movie. The girl always gets the guy, that's what we were taught. So it doesn't make any sense to us 15 years later that it's even possible to like a guy who doesn't feel the same. We make excuses like "he's not looking for a relationship right now," or "he's not gay, he just dresses really well," or "Just because he only calls me at 4am when he's drunk and horny doesn't mean I'm his booty call. We have a relationship!" and tell ourselves things like "He'll come around." He will not come around. Ever. "But, last time I saw him, we had this eye-contact thing." Irrelevant. He still doesn't want you. Is it fair? No.

this what the gorillas on Jersey Shore
call a "Stage 5 Clinger" (note how face
almost says "my uterus is waiting for
you...")

However, the unrequited love thing is not what's eating at me. Disney does not do well in preparing girls to make the first move. Think of the classics: Little Mermaid- quietly stalked a dude for a while, lost her voice, he falls in love despite the lack of conversation,
Cinderella - guy went door to door putting strangers' feet into a shoe made of glass after one dance with this girl, Sleeping Beauty- didn't have to do jack shit. She was SLEEPING and someone STILL managed to fall in love with her.

Snow White - got food poisoning, pretty much died, same kind of story as Sleeping Beauty. Prince just happens to walk by her coffin and decides "It probably wouldn't be entirely creepy to kiss this dead woman who is unfamiliar to me."

Look at this bitch. Tramp.

Aside from getting food poisoning and quietly stalking guys I find attractive, which both incidentally occur more often than desirable, I don't know what else to do. How does one go about asking a guy out? Just ask? If you ask does that mean you pay for dinner? Asking out is usually a guy role, so is paying for the food, or so I thought. Is it that whoever does the asking also does the paying? I mean, I'd feel like a bitch being like, "Hey man, I really wanna go out to dinner with you sometime. It'll be great, you can listen to me talk about stupid shit to try and impress you. Oh PS, you're paying right?" That's like if I just asked him to buy me food. I don't want to ask out a guy for the purpose of free food. I want to ask him out because he's awesome. Crap, what if girls that ask guys out are considered skanky? If I ask him out, and he offers to pay, will he be like, uh, expecting something from me in return?

I knew a guy once that said if a girl ever asked him out he would say no. I can't remember if it was because he was a control freak, or just really old fashioned, or if girls asking guys out was weird to him. Is it weird? Feminist-types would say it's empowering. But, no offense to the feminists, they can think it's as empowering as they want, what really matters is what the guy thinks.

Forget it. Maybe I'll just eat cheesecake 3 times a day and get really fat and eliminate this problem all together.