J, Sunday Scaries

Sunday Scaries #11

It’s a Wednesday and I’m writing a Sunday Scaries post and I don’t give a flying FUCK about it because Nancy Pelosi just set a record for longest speech on the floor of the House after speaking for 8 HOURS about Dreamers. And she’s 77. And she was wearing 4-inch heels and only sipped water. LET’S DISCUSS.

a) The record before Nancy fucked shit up was only 5 hours 15 minutes and set in like 1909, lol, WEAK.
b) Trump can’t go 8 hours without eating a McDonald’s cheeseburger, let alone STAND for that long. Hay-zeus.
c) Can we just talk about how antiquated it is that the year is 2018 and you still are required to wear heels inside the Capitol building? Hell, half the time I’m in my office I forget I’m wearing my commuter shoes until I catch the reflection of my glamorous pencil skirt-Ugg moccasin combo in the elevator’s sheen. HOT.

Anyway, Nancy is a boss. We should all be like Nancy. I’m sober as hell* and she has me texting cute boys I haven’t talked to in YEARS because I feel so damn empowered. She also got me through a tough HIIT workout even though I’ve been ill the past 3 days, but more on that later. #GONANCYGO.

*This is a false statement but maybe the amount of cab sauv I’ve consumed is irrelevant, maybe I’m drunk on girl power, IDK Y’ALL

Anyway! Let’s go over all the shit that happened the last two weeks, shall we?

1. I am LITERALLY the most pathetic person to grace this earth.

Y’all may remember West Virginia from this post. If you don’t here’s the TL;DR:

  • We went on one (1) date at Masa 14 where he ended up meeting some of my friends who randomly* showed up
  • He reminded me so much of an ex that I projected our relationship out about 6 months, got a little too comfortable and sent him an excessive number of pictures of a friend’s corgi**
  • We texted for a while, he ghosted, I called him out, he un-ghosted
  • We texted a while longer, then he told me he “thought he was ready, but wasn’t.” Ready for what, WV?! I’m just tryna get a second date but like WHATEVER
  • I FULLY embarrassed myself one Tuesday night, drunk off my ass in an Uber, by sending THIS text message***:

  • …and I never heard from him again

*I texted them where I was and neglected to tell them I was on a date. Oops?
**WHO DOESN’T WANT CORGI PICS?!
***This is the point in the story where everyone who hears it goes “awwww, J” like, OK GUYS I don’t need your pity what I NEED is a glass of wine, let’s be real.

Fast forward two months to a couple Saturdays ago. Two decisive basketball games are being played: UVA v. Duke and West Virginia v. Kentucky.

UVA wins. WVU loses. Grayson Allen gets elbowed in the face. Another Date Lab victim/new friend of mine shows up. Festivities commence.

I despise you fake-Ted Cruz. And real Ted Cruz.

Somewhere between my 2nd and 9th vodka soda of the day, I decide the best thing to be doing at a ~lit~ pregame like this is to be TEXTING BOYS WE SHOULDN’T. Luckily, I find West Virginia’s number in my recents and manage to fire off this guy:

Ah! A response! Someone came to play. I responded in the best way I know how – with a Chrissy Teigen gif.

Just as I was preparing to put my phone away and re-join the party, I’m AMBUSHED by two of my new friends. One grabs my phone. The other pushes my tits together. They snap a picture. THEY SEND IT TO WEST VIRGINIA. IT’S OVER. MY LIFE. IS OVER.

“WHYYYYY?! WHY, WHY, WHY?!” I bleated, like an injured Nancy Kerrigan (btw has anyone checked on her since I, Tonya started doing so well? Is she ok??). All I could do was delete his number, order Uber Eats and leave the party. God damnit, West Virginia. You were NOT cute enough to end up being this much of a fuckboy.

You were cute, though. If you’re out there reading this… sorry I’ve written about you so much. I promise this is the end.

Maybe.

 

The moral of the story here is that I’m really good at giving advice but really terrible at my own love life, and also that the pool of men in DC is garbage to the core.

2. I got a Bumble guy to make me nachos and I regret everything

If you’re a long-time reader of the blog, you may miss the days when KA and I would invite Bumble guys to just about everything: brunch at Trio, brunch at Front Page, brunch at Johnny Pistola’s… ok, fine. We only invited them to brunch. Give me a break! This is DC! All we do is brunch!!!

Since KA moved away (I MISS YOU SO MUCH BOO), there’s been a significant lack of Bumble randoms in my life.

Until this Friday.

Picture this: My best friend A and I, still in gym clothes, hair unbrushed, no makeup, laid up on the couch watching Parks & Rec and being generally garbage humans. HOT, RIGHT?! That’s what I thought. I decided to up the sexiness ante by baking a carrot cake. And sending Bumble messages about it. As one does.

Just your typical Friday night.

Anyway, guys were responding, but A and I wanted action. We wanted intrigue. We wanted a random dude in my house. (Only because I live with 4 guys who were home and we were going to fully vet them by phone and on social media ahead of time, please, I repeat PLEASE do not let random strangers into your home I beg of you).

Anyway, a couple of interesting guys piqued our interest. The first being this:

I don’t know what’s funnier, the fact that this guy got his dick pierced to be better at sex or the fact that he thought I was sending him a “U up?” text before 6:30 PM.

I mean, that’s entirely what it was, but it’s still funny.

And this guy, who I messaged not realizing I had absolutely met him at Wonderland Ballroom before:

@joshcellars please sponsor me ily

JACKPOT. We were getting wine, nachos and a highly entertaining addition to my Instagram story.

Bumbleino arrived, we cracked open the wine he brought over, and he got busy in the kitchen. However, despite our best efforts to try to teach him to make nachos by yelling at him from the couch, he fucked everything up and they ended up dry AF. SHAKIN MAH DAMN HEAD. IS IT HARD?!

Regardless of his bad nacho-making abilities, I… still let Nacho Man sleep over. But I DID NOT sleep with him. The proof is in this conversation we had in the morning:
NM – Wow, I think that’s the first time I’ve slept at a girl’s house since high school and not like… done anything.
J – WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD, CHAMP!
NM – Like, not even a hand job, or… anything…
J – Those other hoes need to learn some self respect!!!

TBH my carrot cake is better than any sex you’ll ever have and I have several sources who can vouch for that.

3. I found the perfect Super Bowl weight loss strategy!

It’s called “go to a Super Bowl party, eat a sketchy samosa from a sketchy Indian restaurant, contract food poisoning, throw up for 12 straight hours, and not be able to eat for the next 2 days!”

…but on the real, y’all, this happened. Major food poisoning that somehow turned into a fever the next day (which, along with the existence of fuckboys, is how I know the devil is real) and the reason that the 2 glasses of wine I’ve had tonight are hitting me WAY harder than they should. OOF. Anyway, I’m off to bed! Tomorrow (today?) is Friday eve though and we DESERVE IT. GET LIT. INVITE BUMBLE GUYS OVER. Make them watch a nacho tutorial video before they do?? LIVE YOUR LIFE!!!

XOXO,
J

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