Something Something

My work email is down. I feel trapped, powerless, and out of control. It's not like there's not other work I can do. But I'm just sitting here staring at my desk. Shuffling papers back and forth. Staring at my desk. Opening drawers. Closing drawers. Making copies. I am a complete lunatic.

No work email and no work internet site make Tilly go something something.

That's all.

EDIT: It is STILL down! They expect it to be up and running between 2 and 5pm. WHAT? Nice window. Couldn't be a little more specific there, could ya? But, let's be honest, the real reason I want to check my work email is to know whether or not FijiBoy has written to me. Or BigB. Or PhotoJournalist. Or my Mom. Or GOSH. ANYONE. I mean, I have FOUR other email accounts, and trust you me, I've been checking all of those constantly and obsessively all day, per usual, but this, this is just completely wholly and fully unacceptable. And, now I'll stop. K. Bye. Have a nice weekend. GO BLUE!

Awk Sandwich

1. The Awk roommate made me a sandwich last night. He was supposed to move my car because the Cubs were playing at home and I don't have a sticker (because, holy hell, it's the end of the season and they suck and no one goes anyway) but he didn't and then I got a ticket and he felt bad. So...he made me a sandwich (?).
2. I already had dinner plans. I ate the sandwich for lunch.
3. 1.5 hours have passed.
4. I am still alive. No digestive problems to report.
5. And it was actually very good.
6. Despite the fact that he just put the sandwich on a plate and put it in the fridge. Such a boy.
7. Something is burning in the hallway.
8. Good thing there are lots of "hot" chemicals all over this place.
9. So, if I don't die from the poisoned sandwich, I may die from the massive explosions that are probably just seconds away.
10. All I ask is that you cry at my funeral. Pretend, at least. And then pour one out for me. Please.

Good talk.

Tilly Pan

Seeing that I am a "Child Development Specialist," it is somewhat reaffirming when I interact with a child and don't want to, say, drop-kick them or punch myself/them in the baby-maker, and instead they make me smile and remember why and what I used to think my purpose was here in this mixed-up crazy world we share. Rather than getting all "I believe the children are our future" on your asses, I just want to point out two things:

1. I made ANOTHER new friend at the gym. She is in 2nd grade and swims everyday from 5:30-6:30pm, at the same time as me. She has a lisp. And she helped me figure out how to strap on my boot yesterday, so she is obviously a child genius, maybe an idiot savant, when I was struggling way more than a late-20's year old with a masters degree ever should when dealing with VELCRO. Anyway. She invited me to her swim meet...while she was naked...and, not gonna lie, it made me feel a little too pedo-ish, so I told her I had other plans. She looked devastated, so I told her maybe next time.

2. Children on the eL are like dogs in cars. Turns out the world is so much grander than they thought. They couldn't get any closer to sticking their heads out the window if they tried. And seeing that the windows do not OPEN, they cannot. So they just smoosh their little dirty faces against the window, all the while clutching the seat in front of them (which, typically, seems to be MINE, figures.) and pointing out every fricking* thing they see. Ooh, there's a TREE. There's a PERSON. There's another TRAIN. When's our STOP? What's that SMELL? Ooh, ooh, look at that DOG. I mean, it IS pretty freaking* exciting to ride the train. When it's a NOVELTY. But for someone, i.e. ME, who spends most of their flipping* lives on the train, waiting for the train, walking to and from the train, sleeping NEXT to the train, I'm over it. SO over it. But, it is refreshing to see the glimmer of hope and flash of excitement in their eyes. Kids. So many experiences to be had, opportunities to be opened, paths to be traversed, decisions to be pondered, mistakes to be made...

But then again, me too.

*Notice how I refrained from swearing this entire post seeing that it was in regards to children. See. I DO have self-restraint. I do.

DOWN with Debbie Downer

For your pleasure, and mine, and because Julie has gone and left all of us blerds (blog nerds) to weep and wallow in our own self-deprecating pity for whothehellknowshowlong...I am STEALING her funny. And it goes a little something like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9UA-JSBm90

Please. Go. NOW. DO IT.

You two...in the back... GO!!

You will not regret it.

Sufjan FEELS.

Sufjan. Sufjan. Sufjan.

Such an emotionally charged show. I cried. A few times, as a matter of fact. Mainly because I thought I saw this guy whose mother was very close friends with my mother, before she lost her battle with a brain tumor the size of a grapefruit, and I couldn't stop thinking of them all. She was an amazing writer, photographer, artist, and designer bargain hunter. I met her only once in their amazing renovated downtown condo with stunning views of Lake Michigan and even more stunningly unique decor. All of her kids are artists in one realm or another, and I could tell instantly why my Mom was so drawn to her. What I don't understand is why. WHY? It's easy to go about my day and my life and bitch and moan about having a stress fracture and having to wear a BOOT and... Shit. Fuck.Damn. I know nothing.


*************************************************
All The Trees Of The Field Will Clap Their Hands

If I am alive this time next year,
will I have arrived in time to share?
And mine is about as good this far.
And I'm still applied to what you are.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

And I heard from the trees a great parade.
And I heard from the hills a band was made.
And will I be invited to the sound?
And will I be a part of what you've made?
And I am throwing all my thoughts away.
And I'm destroying every bet I've made.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you

Sufjan is Sold Out...

But I'm kind of a genius, so I've already had my ticket for months. Unfortunately, my slacker-ish friends were not so on the ball, and therefore I may be venturing to the Riviera solo. There's a first time for everything, no? Apparently the doors open at 6:30pm, so I best be getting there and getting my seat pronto so that my gimp foot can get some rest. That is, after I get my new shoe/"the BOOT."

I made another new friend swimming yesterday. She was "aqua running" and turns out that she has a stress fracture in the same bone as me, but her injury is on her left foot while mine is on my right. (TMI?) Anyway, I was telling the scientists about this and then we discussed how I'm a "hugger" and they have all decided that I am the "friendliest" person that they have ever met! Woohoo! I mean, despite me being a bitch and everything. I then asked them why they were so afraid of human contact and whether or not they were robots and what may or may not have happened to them as children, but they just stared back blankly. I think I may have crossed the line. So, we just moved on to talking more about how awesome and funny I am and how I entertain them all the time and how their lives would not be as fulfilling without me in it and how I can never leave them. Never.

FijiBoy asked me out. FINALLY.

Surgical Shoes Are Cool. And Other Genius Realizations.

This REALLY is my shoe. Jealous?

I LOVE my new home. LOVE it. I've already done 4 loads of laundry and one was just ONE towel. ONE. And before you go all berserk about it being wasteful and shit, it was the towel we used as we were moving in because it was RAINING. Perfect. And it was all dirty and yucko and I didn't want to wash it with other cleandirty stuff. That and because I CAN. So there.

With that being said...

1. My roommate is socially awkward. First of all, he was moving everything by HIMSELF. Alone. As in, NO friends. I, on the other hand, had like 6 people helping me, and therefore I can basically be crowned the Princess of the Neighborhood. Actually, Queen. Yeah, Queen. I'm the fucking Queen of the 'Hood. Secondly, I ordered a bunch of pizzas and picked up a couple of cases of beer and we were all hanging out, listening to music, icing our feet (well, that was just me), and AwkRoomie was being all awkward. Like not making eye contact and being shady when I was introducing him to my millions of friends. I also had two visitors stop by on Sunday to see the place, went out to lunch, cleaned the entire house, cleaned my old apt, all the while AwkRoomie watched football. Alone. As in, NO Friends. Is this weird? Yes. Yes it is. However, he did talk on the phone once, so there's that.
2. The train is FUCKING LOUD. Holy shitballs. It kind of startles me each time it passes, seeing that it is LITERALLY RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW(S).(I have 2.) But, I slept fine for the most part both nights so far. So all in all, I think that it will be just fine. Just fine. Plus, I have earplugs and two alarm clocks.
3. Charlie, the d.o.g., is a flipping SPAZ. He's cute and all, and I love me some dogs, but he kinda smells and he's hyper as hell. He follows me around and as soon as I get up in the morning he is all up in my biz wanting to play. However, I have already trained him (I'm a magician/dog whisperer) NOT to come into my room. So, he just stands at the door and watches me. I think he loves me. Although he's not IN love with me. Details.
4. My roommate is weird. Did I mention that?
5. According to my guy friends, there is a stunningly gorgeous woman that lives below me. Apparently, the news spread like wildfire before I even got to the bar on Saturday night and requests were immediately made for me to throw a party and invite my neighbors. Maybe we can be friends and take this neighborhood by storm. But then again, she's probably married or has a BF or something. Figures.
6. Wearing a surgical shoe with black pants is a fresh and hip look for fall. Trust me.
7. Dimples is a dbag.
8. I may be the worst packer ever.
9. Go Blue!
10. How did MSU lose that game to the Notre Dickfuckers? I mean, the Spartans totally suck, but they had it. HAD it. Idiots.

These Are the Days of MY Life. MINE.

Wow. I should take the day off more often. I really needed this time to catch up on what is happening on "Days" and "GH." You know, the real important stuff. It's good to see that Sammy is keeping up with the celebrity oompa loompa skin look. And that everyone is SO concerned about their FAMILIES that they need to repeat it over and over and over again and yet they continue to marry, divorce and then have affairs with their brother/sister in laws, or exes, or step children. And that the guy that was on Real World Chicago now has a couple of illegitimate children or something (still confused about this one). And what the hell is going on with Sunny and Carly and Jax and then Lucky being addicted to pain killers?? Seriously. I am SO out of the loop. And it's not like I'm supposed to be packing or anything. Hey, I'm just taking doctor's orders and staying off the bone fracture as much as possible. And if being a good patient just so happens to coincide with some soap watching, so be it.

Side note: Why has it taken me 7 moves to throw away my CLOGS? WTF? Who AM I?
Side note2: Why did I just eat a goldfish off of my floor? And I didn't even think twice. I just spotted it and threw it in. Gross.
Side note3: Should I throw away the wedding book my Mom got me last year at this time when GoatBoy and I were on the verge of...you know? I mean, it's not tainted or anything. It's not like it's a ring or dress or something, but still. It was bought under a certain pretense. A pretense that no longer exists.

The Anatomy of a Little Bitch.

The only thing getting me through this day is the fact that in a few short hours I can resume obsessing over someone elses love life, as opposed to my own (or lack thereof). And that lucky person is...Meredith Grey! Despite her being a total bitch in real life (per Punk'd), and despite the fact that the poor little waif is being forced to choose between a new & improved "Charlie" and an even newer and more improved "Ronald Miller," and despite the fact that McDreamy is also apparently a little bitch in real life (although I refused to watch the Barbara WaWa interview after hearing such disparaging remarks), I CAN'T FLIPPING WAIT!

-No, it matters not that today is technically Friday, for me, since I won't be coming in tomorrow seeing that my foot is effed and x-rays are in order. Or on order. Whatever. Let's all cross our fingers for a boot, rather than crutches. YOU try getting up the el steps with crutches.
-No, it matters not that I will be obtaining my NEW keys to my NEW apartment in my NEW AWESOME neighborhood on Saturday morning. And moving in that afternoon. Guess I should start packing, huh?
-No, it matters not that Michigan is going to DESTROY Wisconsin this weekend. I mean, wolverines obviously kick badger ass. OBVI.
-No, it matters not that I think I kinda have a SwimBF and I will probably see him tonight, again. And by see, I mean share a lane with him. But, seriously, he keeps asking to share a lane with me, even when other lanes are open. And he is also really fast and splashes around a bit too much and gets water up my noise when I'm doing backstroke. But I totally forgive him because 1) He wears cool swim trunks, aka NOT a speedo, 2)He's cute, and 3)He's a boy. So he's got that going for him. It's kind of disheartening though, because, as I have mentioned before, I'm not really looking all that spectacular at the pool. I mean, smeared mascara, a one-piece, and chlorinated hair ain't all that sexay, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

No, all that matters in this karayzee little membrane is this: Grey's Anatomy PREMIERE. Oh, it's on. It's SO on. It's already been BROUGHTEN.

GoatBoy and E. coli: A True (NotHollywood) Story

So, yeah. SICK. GoatBoy has E. coli. And I'm not even kidding. It's sad that all of our texts/emails/conversations over the past 5 days (since the infamous break-up text on Friday night) have revolved around vomit and diarrhea. I mean, I feel for him. I really do. But just because we dated for 5 years and lived together for 2 and I have definitely smelt what he's dealt, does NOT mean that I am his mother and want/need/care to know about such things. You're sick. I got it. You can't hold anything down. Again, I got it. Just don't die.

His last text: I still can't believe I ate the bagged spinach a day before the reports. I think I will try to sleep it off. There is not much they can do.

IDIOT.

As soon as I got home, what did I do? Threw away all bagged lettuce. Down the shoot. Bye bye. You got nothin on me, e.co.li. Nothin. Get bent.

p.s. I had a sweet slash nasty picture but Blogger is being a little bitch. Just imagine.

Ice Cube: My Mentor.

I was SO "that guy" this morning. You know, the one that chases after the bus and bangs on the doors to make them stop and let them on. But, seriously, I have a good excuse. My foot is EFFED. Regardless, the "real" hilarity can be attributed to the fact that I just downloaded Ice Cube's "Go To Church"--the one with Lil John (whose voice is gritty and typically grits me the wrong way)--and on my walk to the bus I was laughing out loud to myself because I was blasting hard core beats at 7:30am in my prepster outfit with a LIMP no less. I am a gimp. No question.

Fortunately, Mr.Bus Driver acknowledged me, because you know, sometimes they don't and then you are an even bigger douchebag and are just left standing there defeated, as the bus and all the riders stare mockingly and blankly out the window at your deserted ass, leaving you to mourn alone, a silent tear dampening your tepid cheek. But this time, I was the champion. Of sorts. I mean, I got on the bus. And, good god, it was packed because apparently now that it has dropped under 60degrees, everyone and their grandmother's nephew's sister and little baby jebus decides it's time to ride the bus.

Anyway, my ipod was still blaring at unsafe decibels (because that's just the way you gotta roll with Ice) and I hadn't had the chance to turn it down in my gimp limp sprint and I was already the asshole who made the bus stop and there wasn't an empty seat on the thing despite my attempting to find one with my two hugenormous bags, so I just turned around to stand on my effing broken foot and avoid the looks of pity and disgust from my fellow riders. Then I realized that these people are obviously staring at me because the bus is as quiet as, well, something really quiet, and I am apparently a strange breed of gangsta. So, as I'm reaching to get my pod in order to stop making such a scene, the bus driver, my love, decides to pull some sort of dramatic u-ey and I basically smack the old lady (baby jebus' mother's sister) in the head with one of my bags. Awesome. Now I am a violent preppy gangsta. I apologized profusely, most likely very loudly and obnoxiously, since I had yet to turn down Ice Cube telling me that if I'm scared I should go to church, which, come to think of it, sounds like a mighty fine idea. Thanks Cube.

Great. Now I'm Boring AND Pathetic.

Is it painfully and depressingly pathetic that my day just improved 17-fold because when I just made a trip to the ladies room, the toilet had recently been cleaned and therefore was standing erect, i.e. "boy" style, so that I could sit down without "papering" it and in effect I was uncontainably THRILLED?

Yeah, I thought so.

Hello, My Name is BORING.

Swimming has just gotten a lot more interesting...as in hott boys all over the place. Granted, they are probably 18 years old (which IS legal, btdubs), but still. And seeing that I look pretty damn fi-ine in my pymp-one-piece, I am sure that I will be swatting them away with my sweet goggles. Last night I was just swim, swim, swimming along, sharing a lane with a friend, when BAM, this cutie in swim trunks crashes into me. I was like, um, hello? And he was all, OMG, I am SO sorry! And I was all giggly "no problem." I was too shy to stop and talk when he was resting poolside, plus, I don't really aim to meet guys while working out. It's just not my thang. But either way, no complaints on the eye candy.

There was a pediatrist giving out free foot screenings when I got to the gym yesterday...he took one look at my foot and was like, "Bone fracture." Great. Awesome. So, apparently I need to REALLY stay off my foot and bandage it up with Ace and most likely get an air cast. That'll be super hot. Oh, I should probably try to avoid falling down stairs. Yeah, that might help. And it is particularly convenient because it's not like I live in a CITY and take PUBLIC TRANSIT everywhere or anything and it's not like I am supposed to be MOVING this weekend or anything like that. Phew. I mean, maybe I won't actually be moving seeing that the bastard current tenant won't return my phone calls to arrange for a little key exchange. I had to tattle this morning--I called the landlord. FINE. I had to. He left me no choice.

In other news, I have somehow managed to become somewhat of a "relationship coach" to Mr. Blank...the weird guy I went out with a couple of times. Kind of strange, but I think that I have felt "motherly" towards him from the get-go, so I guess I'm not that surprised. I just want peace on earth and love and crap like that. I'm a fucking do-gooder, see.

I apologize for my boringass bore of a self. It's Tuesday. It's cold. I didn't sleep well.

Go fuck yourselves, San Diego.

Tilly Got SOME! GitJyuSum!

Sooooo...it's true. It's ALL true. I really went after it this weekend. Really. For serious. Michigan DESTROYED the Irish. And I DESTROYED my liver, as well as DESTROYED my body by falling down a flight of stairs. And then I made out with my crush, Dimples, in the kitchen with a party going on around us. That is...right after I fell for the first time and dropped my RedBullVodka all over the floor and neglected to clean it up. Yesterday was probably the best day of my life. Especially after the shithole that Friday was. Let me tell ya, it's spectacular to be having a couple beers in "bowling pin" bottles while waiting to see "The Last Kiss" at the bar/lounge/bowling alley (?) and get a random text message from GoatBoy explaining that he just broke up with the AsianVirgin. Then watch the relationship train wreck that Zach Braff wrote and start playing one more round of the 'ol "what if?" game. Fun times. And I had no idea that Jacinda from the Real World London was an actress. And, Summer...come on now.


Anyway, Dimples is adorable. Adorable. Waking up next to him sure was a treat. Realizing that my lady toy was in it's home just beneath his pillow, not such a treat. Averting disaster by casually sliding it under to my pillow unnoticed was terrific. Having it start vibrating two minutes later...not so much. But, talking all morning and finally getting out of bed 4 hours later to get a bite to eat--and have him pay--was delightful. Hope to do it again soon. And by "do it" I mean DO IT.

Ahh, those dimples...gets me every time.

Train Friends With Benefits? Works for me.

Not that anyone cares, but there has been a FijiBoy sighting. Today. Well, and yesterday. But yesterday the train was late and thus packed and therefore he did not see me. But, today, well, today the train was late and thus packed, but he saw me as he was getting off and he was pretty damn excited about it, if I don't say so myself. And...I just did.

Fiji [like he just saw an old, long lost, VERY important friend]: HEY!!
Tilly [awkwardly getting up and out of the way of the dude sitting next to me]: Hey.

The end.

BUT...I think this is going to be a "friendly" kind of el friend. As in no one's asking for numbers or gonna be doing it. And seriously honestly, I might have to start calling in for backup here. I think this is the longest I've gone without a romp. It pains me to say, but as you know I can't lie to you blerds (that's blog nerds, and I stole it from Evil Discussor--just look to the right--he's funny. I'm too lazy and unsexed to link it), I may have to revert back to my days of rando's. Don't freak the fuck out. I said MAY have to, which means I won't but that I will talk about it. That's all.
The good news is that the Michigan game is TOMORROW and we're going to the bar in the early afternoon and probably going to drink our faces off and hopefully HOPEFULLY destroy Brady Quinn and the Notre Dicks. Just kidding, Brady, I heart you. I want to be ON you. I mean, I want to dominate you, I mean, I want Michigan to dominate your team, but we can still be friends. And by friends I mean DO IT.

What's Next? We Have to BUY Water??

This morning on my commute, I checked my phone, you know, in case anyone was trying to get a hold of me at 7:45am on a Thursday because I am a very important business woman/people know me. What? It could happen. And lo and behold, I had a new text message. I got overly excited about this. Fine. I open the message and it read:

Tilly: Please call to confirm your appt. at 8am on...(Thu.) Thanks!!!:) The Dental Practice of...:)

Uh, what? My dentist is texting me? What the F is going on here? What's next? We're going to start IM'ing late-night? I mean, I appreciate the technology in some ways and recognize that this is a legitimate step forward in the land of the lazies, but for reals. The receptionist can't just call and leave a message on my voicemail like back in the old days, like last month? Is this really a professional form of communication? What if I don't have texting capablities? (I mean, let's be honest, I am a texting MANIAC, but still, some other people might not be. Maybe?) And what's with all the emoticons. I hate those flipping things. I honestly have an aversion to them. As in, they make me feel belittled or mocked or that the sender is being condescending. Yes, even the smileys or the winkies or the tongues. Just, ugh.

This reminds me of when I lived in California with my family in the '80s and TCBY was the new BIG thing. With this new health kick, my Mom would joke:

Moms: What's next? We will have to BUY special water??! That'll NEVER happen. Good thing she's no entreprenuer.

The times they are a-changing.

See, I Told You...

Ooh, ooh. Now you can see Sia being the silly sweetheart that she is...

DO IT.

Oh, and btdubs, those other two ladies were just fans from the crowd pulled up on stage to dance and stuff.

And another thing, yes, that was her "drink" in the red plastic cup that she took a chug of and then set down.

Yep, she's awesome.

The One Where I Tell The Scientists to Suck IT.

After all the "old as time" accusations I so graciously accepted yesterday by aforementioned "scientists," I got a little retribution. And by retribution I mean, I got nothing, but I felt a hell of a lot better. So there's that. Ha. Anyway, after my million laps in the pool, which I am lov-ing btdubs, I made a friend. Yep. I did. Well, actually, I had somehow misplaced my one and only hair tie and I really REALLY needed one. So, I sucked it up and walked around the ladies locker room asking if anyone had a spare. Of course, no one did. Until...my new FRIEND. SHE had a spare and she lent it, no, GAVE it, to me. Then it went a little something like this:

Swimmy: So, what's your name?
Me: Tilly, and you?
Swimmy: I'm "Swimmy." What year are you?
[Let me just repeat that...She said "WHAT YEAR ARE YOU?" As if I was in COLLEGE. Yes, that's right. Just wanted to make that clear.]
Me [smiling grandly]: Well, actually, I'm staff. But thanks. What year are you?
Swimmy: Senior...blahblahblah...

Now we're BFF's. AND she said she lost 10 lbs swimming, so woohoo!

So, anyway, the take-home message of this story is: I AM NOT OLD slash I DON'T LOOK OLD (of which I was already aware, but hell, it's nice to be reminded). And therefore, my little munchkins will not be MUTANTS.

Take THAT scientists. TAKE THAT!

p.s. I realize that there are gargantuan holes in my logic and faulty deductions, but really, just let me be. Go with it. Appease me. Thanks.

So, I got THAT going for me

I just learned from the scientists, who obviously know EVERYTHING, except how to cure cancer (dumbshits), that my children, if I ever have any, will have MUTATIONS because I am "OLD" and "still SINGLE." Awesome. Thanks for the pep talk.

This may be the scariest picture that I have ever seen. And that is why I wanted to share it with you all. Kinda "breathtaking," isn't it (ala Seinfeld)?

Weekend Update

In other news:

1. I partied in my soon-to-be new neighborhood and I think I'm in love. With it. And I introduced myself to a bouncer at a local establishment and discovered he is also a stylist, and I need a hair cut, so there's that.

2. I have a lady-crush slash I am TOTALLY obsessed with Sia. I saw her at Park West (an awesome little venue/lounge) with Zero 7 on Saturday and we got terrific TERRIFIC seats, thanks to me making all my friends all go to the show 2 hours before the opening act, Jose Gonzalez, came out. Details. While they played a ton of my faves, they did NOT play the one that I REALLY wanted to hear, but lucky for you guys, or guy, or lady, if you go HERE, you will get to hear my favorite la-da-dee-da song and see my friends ride a sweet trail in NoMi. Or, check out DrewDog almost being carried away by this windy city wind, which is quite amusing. In addition, I am also totes crazed about the guys in Zero7. Not only were they adorable, but they were SO into it which made the rest of us follow suit. Sia was the cutest most gracious quirky fun little lady. And she has hugenormous boobies.
3. My soon-to-be new roommate is a prick. There. I said it.

4. I had to buy a onepiece yesterday. Uh, I'm not sure you heard me...A ONE PIECE BATHING SUIT. Since there were like 2 options, it is kinda small, as in tight as fuck, and flattering as hell, obviously. This should be interesting. But my foot is still a disaster, so I gots to do what I gots to do.

5. Federer beat Roddick. Fine. I mean, I love Federer, I have always loved him, but I was rooting for Roddick because he was the underdog and he has been having a rough go at it as of late. And I like his lacoste shit. And one of his friends is holy hella hot. And he changed his shirt like 4 times. Sweaty sweat monkey. And, WHOA, did anyone see his mom? Shman, much? Ouch. But, hot DAMN!

6. This is boring.

Back to business.

Tilly Needs Help. Serious. Help.

Oh dear god. Will someone, ANYONE, please please PLEASE take away my cell phone between the hours of 12am and 4am on weekend nights? Please. I beg of you. Life as I know it would be vastly improved. That, and maybe I would not be caught giving out the wrong number to rando asshats. And maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't text inappropriate messages to my crush 5 hours away at 4 in the morning. And it's possible that I wouldn't be able to tell crazies where to meet up with me and then have to "take my drunk friend home" and be forced to duck into another bar down the street to "wait it out." And by chance, I might not even have to add contacts such as "Do Not Answer" for the second time this month. Yeah. Maybe THAT wouldn't have to happen. Thanks. Thanks for NOTHING. I mean, granted, you would have to rip it from my cold dead hands, but still. It's worth a shot. I said please.

Short Stacks

I've been wondering, as of late, why it seems that men of "shorter heights" seem to be attracted to me. I mean, I'm somewhat "tall" for a girl. I'm no Lisa Lesbian whatever from the WNBA or anything, but I'm taller than most of my lady friends, and I rarely wear heels. It's like these boys don't even recognize this as fact. I know that "short" guys have issues about being short, so why would they CHOOSE to date a woman who is obviously taller, or even the same height, and thus forced to be reminded of the fact that they are SHORT each and every day? I just don't get it. Not at all. In addition, I'm not trying to feel like the Amazon Woman each day of my life either. As confident and independent as I am, I still like it when a guy can literally look down at me, grab my face in his hands, and kiss me. And, speaking of kissing, why are these ALSO the guys that ASK permission to kiss me. Look, if you think that I will be bothered, or give you the 'ol "Is that Regis Philbin over there? Oh...no. It's just some old dude" cheek, just don't do it. BUT, if you think you've got a chance, just go in for the kill. I, like many living, breathing, horny bitches out there, like to make-out. It's a sweet past-time/awesomely fun hobby. So, just strap on a set and go for it. If you ask, the moment is lost, and most likely you will get a shy smile and the look-away kinda thing. Trust me on this one.

Awww....how cute. And he's dancing.

And another thing, why are these short guys the most persistent fuckers around?? Is it because they think they've got nothing to lose? Because, seriously, they do. Like, a lot. Not sure exactly what, but I bet that they die a little on the inside with each rejection, and that's REALLY not helping with the height thing. I can't deny that I am flirty, but I wouldn't say I'm a flirt. And when I know that a guy is into me and I know that I am not into him and that there is NO WAY IN BLOODY HELL that he's getting anything, I try to make it blatantly obvious so that he does not have to suffer the rejection of me saying no to a date or a makeout sesh or whathaveyou. However, these shorties are karayzee blind to my NONadvances. As in, they will keep calling me and texting me and inviting me to do stuff, when I have obviously been flirting with their cute roommate all night or been talking about all my crushes or after I leave with the bartender or whatnot. Um, hellooooo?

I know that many women want the tall, dark, handsome fellow, whatever. Don't we all. But, honestly, you guys, you little guys, just go after the little girls. There's a ton of them it seems. I tripped over some on my way to the train this morning. And then I picked them up, put them in my pocket, and am saving them for later when I meet up with all the short dudes I know and then I will pull them out of my purse and hand them out, like little lady elves, or fairies, or shit, I don't know, the cute little women that they are. Just trying to do my part in this mixed-up crazy world we live in. See, I'm a humanitarian. A do-gooder. And obviously a superficial bitch. Same diff.

But, then again, it worked for him. Or her. Actually, I'm not sure who's getting the shorter end of the stick with this one (no pun intended). Oh, wait...I don't give a fuck.

Afternoon Thought on a Loop

For fuck's sake, is this REALLY my life?

Scccccccratch That

So, after a decent show of "Band of Horses" at the Metro last night...it turns out that, SURPRISE SURPRISE, #5, a one Mr.Blank, is a PSYCHO. PSY-CHO. Details. Details. So that's done. Done and DONE.

And, FijiBoy is apparently a LIAR, since I DID NOT, in fact, see him on the train this morning. Ass. Fine. Be that way. I woke up early and tried to look somewhat cute too. Figures. Seeing that I looked like Courtney Love entering rehab yesterday and my voice was practically a gravel pit. So, yeah. Perfect.

In addition, I tried working out last night, just the boring mcboring bike, and lo and behold, my foot is MORE fucked. Super. Awesome. Fanfuckingtastic.

So...as you may or may not be able to tell from my delightfully delightful current mood...my life is in the toilet. Shame spiral, here I come.

Kisses,
Tilly

It's Raining, It's Pouring, but Tilly Ain't Snoring...

So, after my seemingly endless monotonous and celibate life, I am finally getting some action with the old kisser. I have also strayed for too long from my lists, so, in the effort of time and concisiveness, here goes the boys that are now playing minor to very minor roles in this little game I like to call my life (in order of appearance):

1. BigB: Cutie, cutie, cutie. Went to the same HS. Past history of MO'ing. A LOT of hand-holding this weekend. A LOT. We would have the cutest, smartest, most environmentally aware babies. Smooth back. We're scheduling a pants party. Long distance...so, there's that. And the fact that he is 3 years my junior. But, then again, I can teach him stuff. And train him real good.
2. FijiBoy: RECENTLY reentered the scene. As in THIS MORNING. My elcrush. We talked!! Yep. So that happened. He sat next to me. FINALLY. When he was leaving, he said, "See you tomorrow." Swoon. I mean, among other things...we actually had a discussion. It happened, it really happened. BUT, he went to the same uni as GoatBoy and knowing my luck, they were probably friends. Figures.
3. DHockey: Ummm, so yeah. He has a crush on me. It's been confirmed. He's kinda short. And not my style, but...
4. DHockeyRoomieDIMPLES: As his nickname eludes to...he is DHockey's roommate and has THE cutest dimples I have EVER seen. Ever. And we totally "vibe" each other. I know, I know. I can't believe I said that either, but I did. I mean, we have the same sense of humor and taste in music and he's adorable and wears glasses. But, alas, bros before hoes, so it can't really ever go anywhere. And DHockey asked me out last night. F.
5. Mr.Blank: Kinda rando. Kinda funny. Kinda weird. Kinda kinda.

So, HEYOOOOO!

And: Michigan WON. DUH.
And2: 4 day work week.
And3: Zero7 this weekend!
And4: My foot is broken. So that's the Debbie Downer comment of the day.
And5: Have you ever sneezed and burped at the same time? I think I just had an aneurysm. Ouch.
And6: Have you ever splattered vanilla yogurt ALL over your shirt? As in your boob? As in, guess what THAT looks like? Gross.

GO BLUE!!

At this time tomorrow, I will be heavily intoxicated. At the BIG HOUSE! Yeah!

That's all.