Peanut M&M's:

I have come to find meaning in random and obscure events that happen around us everyday. I am convinced that if ONLY we took time to listen to the Universe, our lives would vastly be improved.

Take today, for example. Even though I WOLFED down delicious pork and sausage jambalaya and potato salad for lunch, my gut was still yearning for something more. OMG. I haven't had my favorite guilty pleasure yet (Peanut M&M's).

Chocolate is vital to feeling happy! Mmmhmm. I WANTED those Peanut M&M's. I took out a crisp dollar bill and headed to the nearest company vending machine. There it was! My favorite snack in the whole wide world... Peanut M&M's. DROOL.

I knew the next part by heart. Insert dollar, press C1, and then voilà! Ruh-Roh?! My dollar has been rejected?? Insert Dollar, press C1. ARGH! Insert Dollar, press C1. Noooo! Insert Dollar, press C1. RAGE. Insert Dollar, press C1. I hung my head down in shame. The Universe does not want me to have Peanut M&M's. I'm apparently... an undeserving gluttonous PIG judged so by the Universe.

My spirit was broken... a shell of the happy-go-lucky guy everyone loves. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I sneakily changed the dollar to four quarters in our petty cash box. Clink, Clink, Clink, Clink. Our vending machine accepted all four quarters!

I ferociously gobbled up the Peanut M&M's. I DID feel shame as I conveniently left out the last part when I chronicled my harried vending machine experience on Facebook. Shhh... the Universe won't know I left out a critical piece of information! Or will it? Oh gawd... please... don't punish me.. nooooo.... nooooo!

Hateful B*tchface:

A good friend of mine joked that I am referred to as "hateful bitchface" in circles we run. You know what? That is actually not that far off! If men got periods, mine would be an overflowing raging river of blood. NO TAMPON, even the size of the Washington Monument, can soak up my menstruation cycle. I am struggling to control IT.

Blame it on this time of the year when the new tennis season starts. With every match publicly recorded and made a part of my permanent record, I go into a TIZZY of frightening seriousness that approaches Serial Mom-ness.

I am so focused, that people are judged to be either helpers or distractors. When I am in this mode, it takes every fiber of my being to respond to cutesy texts from the BF containing hearts, kissy smiley faces, and eggplant symbols (don't ask!). I grit my teeth and force myself to be a teenage girl and text back in kind. The compromises we must make for those we love. Shoot. Me.

Back in manlier news, I have acquired new weaponry! This is the Head racket used by Novak Djokovic. It gives advanced players all the control needed to dominate the court with aggressive play. That is my game.

On Saturday, I tested it out and obliterated the competition. In fact, one player screamed "FUCKER!" at me after I would not let them make a passing shot. Soooo inappropriate in a bourgeoisie sport.

I am choosing to name this racket: Sharapova THE slayer of fuglies, because Maria Sharapova is the prettiest tennis player of them all. Anyone daring to disagree with this statement will receive a full assault of hateful bitchface.

The Life of Chuck:

 

 

When Jimbo announced he was leaving Washington DC after 16 years, it touched me on a profound level. The two things I associated most with DC was "Durban Bud" and "Jimbo".

Strange as it may seem, Jimbo is my trash reality internet star. He was my "Snooki", the depraved version that wanted to "Smoosh Smoosh" on South Park. How can Jimbo leave DC?! It felt like a sucker punch. How can you just pick up and leave?! How can you do this to me?! You... are my can of tomato soup... never opened but comfortably always there.

With the high level of social retardation in our Internet society, I fretted that Jimbo would not get a proper sendoff. I worked the back channels pushing for mutual buds to do something special for him. Thankfully, a "Farewell to Jimbo" event was established. For sentimental reasons, I felt compelled to travel to attend the event.

It had been four years since I was last in DC.  I didn't make any plans to tour the city.... it was strictly a social outing. On Friday, I got to see Bear Happy Hour (BHH) with a former blogger named Chad at Town. The men in DC, unlike in New Orleans, take pristine care of their bodies. They should call it "Muscle Bear Happy Hour" for most of the guys could do porn with their protruding pecs, slim waists, fur, tats, and meaty arms. No wonder Jimbo is throwing in the towel and leaving town!

On Saturday, I got to meet TJ and Rob's famous Internet cat, Chuck, who was adorable, charming, and completely delightful in every possible way. He instantly warmed up to me. Chuck has a happy life with TJ and Rob, who dote on him continuously.

We three humans worked out at Vida Fitness, took a break, then met Jimbo out for dinner at Shaw's Tavern. Don't let the name fool you, Shaw's Tavern is not some bar that also serves food. It serves food prepared in innovative ways ($$$) and only offbrand beer.

This was our only time to spend an intimate hour with Jimbo. It went typically how you'd expect. TJ throwing zingers in the form of questions to both Jimbo and I. Jimbo getting mad anytime the focus was not on him. (picture Jan Brady whining... "Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!") Me fussing at Jimbo's hypocrisy for reading and replying to text messages at dinner. Rob looking helplessly on as three deranged individuals communicate with each other in a new level of social retardation. Gawd. We really should have our own reality show!

Later, we all took a tour of Jimbo's nice former dwelling. You may think of living in Shaw as a daily battle of dodging bullets, drug dealers, and prostitutes, but I thought it was actually nice! It seemed tranquil and a decent place to live.

Jimbo's Farewell Party was well attended. I got to meet many people who I have seen comment on Jimbo's blog or Facebook Wall. It was nice to say "HI" and show that I am not the attention whoring mega cunt Jimbo sometimes lets me portray myself as when he picks fights.

On the very last day, I had a wonderful breakfast with TJ and Rob in Dupont Circle and went to the Farmer's Market. Their relationship is to be admired and serves as a good model for those looking to settle down.  It certainly impressed me and gave me a good view of what a future relationship should be like. :)