#boyslogic- Ironing

My boyfriend lives on his own which means he knows how to take care of himself. He can clean, make sure he doesn’t starve so he cooks to an extent, and he can do his own laundry. On the topic of laundry, that action involves more that just washing and drying your clothes. Laundry also entails folding your clothes or hanging them, putting them away, or ironing them so you look presentable with no wrinkles. My boyfriend owns an iron, however does his own way of ironing…

I was at his place one Sunday and I was supposed to go home but I had such a bad headache I slept until 10pm, so I was not about to drive home. I kept telling him in between sleeping that I needed to go home because I didn’t have clothes for work the next day. He suggested one of the tops I wore over the weekend and I told him that I couldn’t because it was too wrinkled. That’s a pet peeve of mine, I HATE wearing wrinkled clothes. Anyways, he was being a good boyfriend and trying to take care of me, so the next time I woke up from my nightmare of a headache, he told me that he sprayed water on my top and laid it on the floor with his shorts on top, because his shorts were heavy and that the weight would help get the wrinkles out. It was the sweetest gesture that I couldn’t help but smile.

Just as I thought, when I put the shirt on the next morning it was more wrinkled that it was before he “ironed” it. I wore it with pride though because he did that for me. Still whenever he does laundry his t shirts are in flat piles on the floor so that they won’t be wrinkled.

#boyslogic

#boyslogic- “because it bugs you”

Lately I have been going crazy thinking that my boyfriend doesn’t want to kiss me anymore or doesn’t like to. I mean it is like breaking his arm to get a kiss hello! When I finally get one it is like not meaningful at all. This has been seriously bothering me. I keep thinking I did something wrong, or maybe I try to kiss him too much and he wants his space?

That must be it, I am kissing him too much.

That’s okay, I can lay off.

I mean even though I don’t want to.

But like who doesn’t like kissing?

Let alone, who doesn’t like kissing me?

It’s okay, next time I see him I will let him kiss me first.

Alright I’m here! Just waiting for my kiss…

…Still waiting…

Boyfriend: “What are you making for dinner?”

WHAAAAT?! He asks me what I am making for dinner and he hasn’t even given me a kiss hello yet?! (metaphorical steam coming out of my ears- imagine it)

Fine. You want freaking DINNER?! I’ll make it, but not happily! I’ll show him an unhappy dinner. Frozen, cardboard, pizza crap!

Then he says: “You don’t even kiss me anymore.”

I just stare at him. ARE YOU KIDDING?!

The next week we went to Target to grocery shop and I waited for my kiss. He didn’t give me one first so I decided ill just get one myself. So I do. Then complain that he doesn’t like to kiss me anymore. He put’s his arm around me and says, “No, I just do it because it bugs you.”

#boyslogic

A Tragic Short- Stalker Fail

The guy my roomie was dating broke it off with her about two months ago for idiotic reasons. Whatever, he doesn’t deserve my amazing roommate, but she was sad about it and occasionally still is. She should not waste sadness on a douche-wad like him. Anyways, recently she was stalking him, like she shouldn’t have been, on Instagram. I wasn’t home, which is probably why she did it, because I would have told her not to. As punishment for her sneakily stalking him, she dropped her phone. This wasn’t any drop though. You see, she was lying down while she was stalking him, on her back. So where would she have dropped her phone? She dropped it on her face, resulting in her liking one of his pictures, WITH HER FACE. When she told me I laughed so hard! That would happen to her. I told her that’s what she gets for stalking.
As karma goes, two weeks ago my roomies ex from almost a year ago liked one of her pictures from 42 weeks ago. He was clearly stalking. Who just scrolls down the news feed back 42 weeks? The moral of the story here, don’t stalk on your phone while lying on your back.

PMS- Psycho, Mad, Sad

Us girls all know that when you hang out with your girlfriends often, you all start to get on the same track, do you know what I mean? Eventually all of your special girl times will be right around the same time, especially if you’re roommates. My roomie and I are right on schedule with each other. It was so funny because last month our group of five, aka- the Fab 5, all of us and our boys got together for “Friendsgiving” and literally all of us were on our time of the month. One of the girl’s husbands heard and said, “Oh my god you girls are all PMSing together!” His wife quickly corrected him saying PMS is pre and we are passed that part, to which he responded, “Fine then you are all MSing together.” Boys logic.

PMS 1

Anyways we are about in the pre time again and my roommate and I were texting back and forth today about how we were sad for no real reasons. She was saying how she is the only one without a guy and I had this absurd idea that my boyfriend didn’t even like me anymore. I mean he didn’t even text me back for like two and a half hours. I soon found out that he was in a meeting with his district manager. I then realized that I needed to snap out of my little funk because I was being a typical girl. PMS should really stand for Psycho, Mad, Sad because that is literally our cycle that recurs again and again until our time is up. We will be perfectly normal, then we will get a psycho girl thought like our boyfriend isn’t texting us back because he doesn’t like us anymore, then we get mad at our boyfriends for not texting us back, then we get really sad that he doesn’t like us anymore. After this cycle we calm down when we find out he was in a work meeting the whole time and are calm until the next incident sets us off.

PMS 2

I was watching a comedian on Netflix the other night with my boyfriend and he said that girls are like rescued dogs and they need to keep them calm or they will get set off. I thought that was really funny because it is kind if true. We are not crazy, we just get an excuse to be psycho for a week without getting institutionalized. Boys it is best to just do what we say and get us chocolate and tell us that we are pretty.

PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad

PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad

PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad

PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad

PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad PMS-Psycho, Mad, Sad….. Okay I’m happy now.

A New Level of Tragic

I made a dead animal deader! You wouldn’t think it was possible but I did it! I was driving home tonight and the car in front of me instead of swerving around the animal like a normal person, they went over it so it went through the middle of their tires, leaving me no time to swerve, so I hit it! I am a horrible person! I keep referring to the animal as “it” because I don’t even want to admit what it was, either a dog or a coyote, I’ve convinced myself that it was a coyote, which is still awful. I was so scared to get home and look at the front of my car. What if I had a crime scene up there?! Oh my gosh! Luckily there was nothing, but still, I HIT AN ANIMAL. The poor guy couldn’t be dead in peace, noo it had to be hit again for good measure.

I win the tragic award this time.

This is what my sister had to say, and yes I call her Noodle…
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Sunday Brunch

Today my four friends and I, we call ourselves the fab 5, had a Sunday Brunch. We all met up at one of their apartments at 11:45 and were all drunk within an hour resulting in us devouring an entire box of wheat thins, a tray of bear claws, a box of waffles, and eggs and bacon. The culprit of this binge eating fest I’m pretty sure was from the five of us polishing off three bottles of champagne (yet not even finishing half of the gallon of orange juice), two pitchers of this amazing concoction I made with lemonade, sprite, red moscato, and dragonberry Bacardi, and a half bottle of wine. Needless to say, we were bombed. If it wasn’t obvious by all the bottles and food out, you could sure tell when all the “I love you”s came out and we kept group hugging. Eventually we all started to fall asleep so I figured I should sober up to drive. My roomie is not in as good of shape as me. She told me, like she has many times before, to not let her drink that much next time, as she holds the side of the couch “spinning”.IMG_2493.JPG

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Tragic Trippin

About a week ago I got to get dressed up with my four girlfriends, we call ourselves the Fab Five, and we went to support our sorority as respected alumnae at their philanthropy event: Theta Beta’s Sigma Kappa Ultra Violet Casino Night. It was fun to go to but the part we loved the most was dressing up, as usual. One of my girls and I are pretty much known as legends in our sorority, not to toot our own horn but toot-toot, because I was President and she was Executive Vice President and we made an amazing team together. I am not over exaggerating either, one of the girls told my dad this at Casino Night. Anyways after a night of faux blackjack and we felt that we had made a long enough appearance and took the appropriate amount of cute pictures in front of the letters, we left for the next portion of the night.

IMG_2267casino night

We were all going to head to a bar in the next city over but first I had to go pick up my boyfriend from daycare, aka- friends house where I dropped him off to watch the USC vs. UCLA game. As expected he was drunk already and by the time we made it to the bar he was asleep in the car. He woke right up though and was ready for a drink. We got inside and found the girls whose boyfriends and one husband also met up. My boyfriend asked what I wanted to drink and I said a Dirty Shirley which he responded to quite loudly that I wanted a whore. Like I said, he was drunk. One of the other girls had one and it was a nice small drink which was perfect because I was driving. Finally when he turned around with my drink it was in a straight up goblet. I asked him what he ordered?! He said that he told the bartender that he wanted a Dirty Shirley and to make her dirty, which is why I am assuming she gave him a giant one. There was no way I was going to be able to drink all of it and drive home so it became a group thing with my roomie and one of the other girls.

Dirty Shirley

After drinking my very Dirty Shirley we decided it was time to go as did everyone else. We would all see each other the next day anyways for our Friendsgiving. I drove my boyfriend and I back to my place, where he sat in the back so he could pretend I was a chauffeur, and he fell asleep again. By this time I had been in my heels for hours and my feet were in pain so I was so happy to finally be home. We were almost there, almost to the door when it happened. Mayday-mayday I was going down and I couldn’t stop it. My heel went on a wet leaf, which then slid into the drain in the parking lot and I ate it. I couldn’t catch my balance because I was holding my purse and another bag so I went right down on my knee. The drunk, non-helping boyfriend laughed and then asked if I was okay, and then laughed again. Bruised and bleeding, I would be the SOBER one who falls down. Typical Tragic Girl.

knee