Repent/Purgatory (And 20 Min. Dinner)

Well, the last ten days have been hellish. I believe the phrase that was sent my way was “Odd how vengeance does not make one feel better. Just vengeful.” Pine over that for a few minutes. I certainly did.

On the bright side, this dude that got my number without permission from my roommate’s phone one night while they were having drinks after work has finally decided to stop texting me. I guess I could have blocked him, but there was a little bit of astonishment that these messages kept coming, even though I never, ever wrote back.


There were more… Saturday at 12:14am: “What you doing”

Saturday at 5:33 am : “????????” then “Can i come over”

FINALLY on Sunday at 1:25 am: “Damn I’m done” and then “I’ll delete your number”

Good call, buddy. Seeing as I never gave it to you. Never responded to your texts. And SURE one night we flirted and danced at a late-night spot back in December but then when I bumped into you on Christmas at the bar, you were like “UMMM I have a girlfriend” – Hence why I never had any desire to hang out with you again or dance with you again and certainly give zero fucks whether you guys broke up and now feel compelled to send me unsolicited text messages.

I certainly earned the many, MANY apologies my roommate gave me for allowing his phone to be commandeered.

In other news, I had a midterm last week and am currently sorting out the writing of an epic term paper for a graduate course on “The Novel.” So, as I am trying to manage my 6am workouts and my internship and every now and again check to make sure I’m still a whole person, maybe neurotically check my email for a message from a certain someone, I decided to make my favorite breakfast dish into an early dinner today.

Eggs in Purgatory – Pasta Style! (warning: for high-stress times only)

Oh my god so fucking good. Although, as I said, not something I will make regularly because this constitutes a gluttonous binge-like meal where far too many calories were consumed. But here is the gist of my semi-homemade tasty treat:

Step 1: Boil water and salt liberally.

Step 2: In the meantime, slice about a half of a green bell pepper and two large cloves of garlic. (I skipped the onion today. I might have added mushrooms if I had them, but honestly, sometimes simple is best.)

Step 3: Once the pasta is in (I used penne this afternoon), sautee the pepper and garlic in a little bit of olive oil in a small skillet. *Use a bigger one if you are making for two.

Step 4: Cover with a really (I mean really) simple tomato sauce. I used the Walgreen’s Nice! traditional pasta sauce because it is as simple as they come in a jar. Once the sauce comes to a boil and there is about 3 minutes left on your pastas, crack an egg on top and season with salt and pepper. Place a lid on top.


Once your egg looks like that, drain the pasta. Pour into a bowl and top with grated Parmesan. Gently top pasta with sauce and egg and then, because this is SAD PEOPLE FOOD, add Mozzerella cheese too.

And then get in bed and flip on your Netflix. Who cares if it is 4:30 pm on a beautiful Friday. I sure as fuck don’t.

See you bitches in hell.


Three’s a Crowd

Okay, sometimes three’s a party (wink, wink) but certainly not in this case. Sometimes Boyfriend opted for Aspiring Senators Wife/Ex Sorority Girl instead of me again (yawn) right when I happened to have a weekend full of fun plans. Great news! This left me in the perfect spot to… drum roll… find the most physically and emotionally unavailable asshole in Mid City and then a few days later, go on a date: Hot Chef 2.0 AKA Mr. Wrong.

Ahh yes, you might remember Hot Chef so Mr. Wrong was a pretty bad idea considering the record I have with dating chefs. Married to his job? Of course. But I knew that before we ever met for drinks. Emotionally unavailable because of divorce? Yup. That’s where we deviate from the original. But the real problem with Mr. Wrong is the third wheel.

Who might this other be? Not his ex wife. Not his mother. Want to keep guessing or shall I spill the beans?

Apparently he is BFFs with his all-star bartender, a lady with whom I’ve spent several afternoons with over her stellar Hot Toddies, shared giggles over our mutual infatuation with a certain Jamie MacKenzie Fraser and generally enjoying each others company (and my generous tips on a slow afternoon). Turns out she is not my friend, and is actually a conniving manipulator. All great qualities. You go, girl!

A few days after our date, I came in after a big old party thinking that his restaurant was a good idea because a) Pho is great for hangovers b) Chicken and Waffles is on the menu c) Tons of things can get eggs on them. AND d) Not a hot spot during traditional brunch time. (Okay maybe a littttle interest in “bumping into” Mr. Wrong.  I also really wanted to bring the crew to my neighborhood so I could crawl into my bed without having to call a cab after grubbing.)

We sat down and ordered and I sent a casual text saying “Hey, we are outside having some brunch. No pressure but if you aren’t too busy and want to say hi…” or something like that. That day they also happened to be smoking a big whole animal: lamb? pig? I don’t know. It happens weekly so maybe one day I’ll figure out what the mammal is and perhaps eat some of it.

After some time, we were literally smoked out and decided to finish up at the bar. Great, I loved (past tense) the bartender. We close out with our server and decide that is a great idea to do shots and order dessert. It was, after all, a celebration! A little while later, I get the most awkward wave from as FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE from Mr. Wrong. He walks away and I burst out with a giant “THAT WAS AWKWARD!” (Annnd I’m a little drunk.) Then, thinking that the bartender was a friend, I say “Gahhh that was sooo weird, we totally hooked up the other day!” (Okay, that was an overshare and I wish I hadn’t said that…) but then she said WITH A TWINKLE IN HER EYE,

“Really!? Oh my god how was it? I’ve been dying to know…”

And all I said was “He’s a really great kisser (*blush*)”

Later I get a very long, long text telling me that he would not like to ever meet for drinks again because “somehow staff got wind of our encounter and he keeps his work and private life separate yadda yadda yadda, but please continue to enjoy (his restaurant).”

It turns out, he is BFFs with home girl and not only did she tell him that I was being gossipy (which I fully admit was amateur) but she also told him to stay away from me and all kinds of not nice things. WOAH Bitch, you barely know me except that I tip really well and come in for lunch and have a drink and do some work. Thanks for your excellent Hot Toddies. They were my jam. But really, dear, I know you have a crush on him but why don’t you grow the fuck up and be the better person next time because three’s a crowd and I you are clearly stuck in the friend zone anyway.

Do Not Disturb

We all know that technology is not my strength. The only time that any of my gadgets required for convenient functioning in today’s world are updated is if Sometimes Boyfriend is around. So…nothing is updated.

Any time that little box pops up in the right hand corner of my MacBook to tell me that it is time to update and asks: Now? In an hour? Try Tonight? or Try Tomorrow? I always say tomorrow, but what I really mean is NEVER, BITCH. I never want to update because then I can’t find things.

Case in point: iTunes. If you mistakenly update your iTunes, it is basically impossible to find or play music until you’ve hemorrhaged an hour of your time clicking around just so you can play your “pump up mix” before engaging with society. UGH PEOPLE ARE THE WORST.

In a crazy turn of luck/Find My iPhone genius, I managed to keep my original iPhone 5 until it was time for an upgrade. Toward the end of that 2-year cycle, my phone stopped ringing sometimes. I think it is because the memory was so full of music and other things that the phone just was unable to function. (No, I didn’t update that regularly either…I know. I am a terrible person.) This actually worked out because it made me seem busy or unavailable when Sometimes Boyfriend called/texted late night. (I was absolutely not doing anything but being annoyed at my fucked up phone.) Anyway, the joyous day came when it was time for a new one. Huzzah!!! I learned a bit from the last one that a) I use it for mostly checking my email, flipping through Tumblr (nothing PG) and sending text messages filled with everything ranging from the “Be there in 5” to some pretty hot and heavy sexting. Phones! Yay! I also use it to take photos. So, for this new fancy iPhone 6 I upped my data and memory to double my pleasure. And lately, that lousy thing has not been ringing. WHYYYY??!!

So, you probably noticed, it is Christmas time! Basically the worst time ever to try to go to the Apple store. AT THE MALL. (Read: MALL PARKING LOT.) For that reason, and because I am a lousy adult sometimes, I was planning on suffering through a few more weeks of missed texts and phone calls. Or the alternative: obsessively looking at my phone to see if I missed anything. Kind of a fun activity if you like masochism.

But alas, yesterday, I found myself at the mall. After attempts at shopping local and shopping online, I found myself in a situation where the only option was the dreaded mall. Dun Dun Dunn.

And I did it! The parking lot was a madhouse so I just drove as far away as possible and mentally prepared myself to be soaking wet walking back to the car since the weather forecast called for heavy rains – and it is New Orleans so just because the sun is out now, does not mean a thing for later

Actually when I was walking up to the mall a very practical lady asked me if I was leaving. Pro move – slowly follow someone, preferably sort of youthful, to their car to call dibs on their spot. To her dismay I just was making the long haul in.

After much debate because “I don’t even know where the Apple store is” and other random excuses, I literally walked past it and figured, “Ugh I guess so…” And entered to multiple happy greetings and then ultimately found the correct iPad bearing helper that is color coded Green for tech support. I did my best to hide my outright rage to be even standing in this store and asked politely how long the wait would be. He asked what the problem was, and I told him. And then he looked at my phone, laughed a little. And shared this amazing tidbit of information:

“Do you see that half moon at the top?” he says, “That means your phone is on Do Not Disturb, so no one can reach you unless they call repeatedly or they are on your favorites list.”

Me: I actually did LOL. And then, because I have moments of practicality, asked him to please show me where that function is so that if I ever accidentally find a half moon again, I can turn it off myself. OR, since everyone sucks anyway, maybe I just turn that right back on because lets be real: DO NOT DISTURB.



I Woke Up Like This.

It is not really a Monday in recent history if I don’t still have the stench of another night of drunk chatting with my mom and shoving Chinese food down my face. (If you are keeping track, you can add drunk dialing my mom to the list of why my phone is a total asshole.)

In case you are not familiar with bourbon, Chinese food and glitter, let me share. The combination of all of those things results in a morning look is a very special version of “I woke up like this” and comes with a side of duck sauce. Definitely don’t rub your eyes.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror around 6:30 AM looking an awful lot like Ke$ha circa 2010. I guess worse things have happened. She’s kind of a hottie. I bet she spends a lot of time to look this fabulous yet disheveled and I mastered it with very minimal effort. Just a solid sprinkling of silver glitter and some fake eyelashes before dance rehearsal, followed by some boozy Super Bowl “watching” and then simply passing out all kinds of early in all of my clothes. (I use that description very liberally as I wasn’t wearing that much to begin with.) And of course, after a lovely feast of chicken and rice I was out for a solid ten hours of sleeping that really helped with the bed head.

I feel like things are going great, considering. The last Chinese adventure I had to call a cab to take me across town in order to achieve my take-out decadence. That was both expensive and kind of pathetic. And by pathetic I mean totally awesome in a sad way. In comparison, last night was fairly straightforward. At a reasonable hour, you can pick from any of the establishments that deliver to your neighborhood.

Of course I did get to wake up next to my best friend this morning, and although I felt like total poop, there is some comfort in there being a second person next to you equally hating the rude arrival of morning, and of course, of Monday.

Now, it is highly unlikely that if my broken heart was on the mend with a new love interest that I’d have managed to wake up looking this fierce, but anything is possible. Its kind of a shame that all of this hot sexiness (cough cough) was wasted without a good morning romp, but I digress. We are talking about glitter and Chinese food again here. No boys allowed.

But hey! We’ve already established that it is Monday so now I have all week to clean up, go for runs, hit up Pure Barre and be a regular human for a stint. Huzzah!

Is it weird that I am hungry right now? I think so. Someone bring me a bagel from the east coast. Thanks.