CITIZEN'S ARREST!

If anyone sees Adam Lambert from American Idol, please knock him out. He is atrocious and awful. Yes, he can sing. But his general appearance is a crime against my eyes. HATE HATE HATE!

March Effing Madness

BLARUGHGYIHSKJ. That's how my body feels after the severe abuse it has been taking this month. Why does March always drive me to 1) Drink insane amounts of booze and 2) Eat really bad-for-you food?

Well, I think it's partially because St. Patrick's Day has gone from being an Irish Day that happens once every mid-March to a month long drinking marathon with stops in Hoboken, Manhattan, and Westchester (although I sat this one out this year) along the way. I think this is great and all but the older you get, the less you can hang, which kind of becomes evident as the younger kids rage through the night, and I start throwing elbows at the pizza counter at 9 pm to get some carbs in mah belly.

Also, between New Years and March 1, everybody hides. People only go out in their neighborhoods or short car rides away because going out with a coat in general is just fucking annoying, let alone layering up with a thick sweater that you just end up stripping off when you get hammered. Fuck winter...spring = warm weather = booze which is < boozing outside.

Plus, after the holidays and spending money on winter vacays, people are poor, so everybody I know starts bartending in March. Which kills me because the folks I know make drinks like moonshine. Hence, I end up falling out of my elevator onto my hallway floor. I woke up the next day as looked like, as Mrs. Krabbypatty put it so eloquently, someone "Chris Browned" me. Too soon? Nah.

Then you have your NCAA tournament drinking which really, is just an excuse to get bombed during the week. Last year, I went out to an E. Village bar and ended up getting hammered while trying to pick up guys during a Duke game. Turns out they don;t really like to talk when the game is on. Whoops! This year, I created a bracket based on the names of the schools, and I'm hoping that I can strike a bond at the bar this way. Anyone know the closest Oklahoma-centric bar? (I picked them to win by accident).

Lastly, the end of this month marks the very death of my poor, innocent liver. Since DM is getting married next month, a bunch of us gals are heading to Newport, RI, for her bachelorette party. While this might seem normal to most, let me explain. After DM's shower a bunch of us went out and stayed out. Until 4 AM. People asked us if we were the bachelorette party. Kids, you ain't seen nothing yet. I wouldn't be surprised if someone ends up A) Seriously injured B) Pregnant or C) coming face to face with the entirety of their stomach contents. Let's hope none of those are me!!

Overall, March is month of drinking and being a degenerate. Which is what I seem to do best. I mean, c'mon, it may hurt, but it hurts sooooooo good.

Do I need Tough Love?

So Vh1 is pimping its new show called Tough Love. In short, some douchey dating guru takes a batch of classless ladies and teaches them how to snag a man who will want them for more than one night. The commercials speak common sense to me, so I assume the show will follow suit and the only reason to watch is to laugh at these sad little disasters. Or is it? I'm not the type who goes on dates all the time or the kind of gal who can attract the type of man that would actually be a suitable match. Maybe I could take a tip since my dating life can be boiled down to two things: stalking and utter disinterest. Not on my part. See, I either meet a decent guy and he texts me 28 times in one night (this happened two weeks ago) or I like a dude and he blatantly ignores me because I have a tendency to blend into the background when I really like someone.

Let's face it. We can all improve. As the sage Kelly Clarkson sings, "I know I've got issues, but you're pretty messed up too." I do have issues. Tons. And I'm pretty sure that most of them can be chalked up to quirks. But really, admit it men of NYC, you are pretty messed up too. Maybe I just mingle with the wrong sort. Here's what I deal with:

Species: The Beer Geek
Locations: Fratty bars where everybody has a friend who is bartending that night
Known For: Drinking crappy beer and ordering round after round of shots
Beware: This man WILL give you a hangover and cause you immense amounts of shame within your social circle.

Species: The Has-Been
Location: Your hometown, known to appear around holidays, especially the night before Thanksgiving
Known For: Being super hot in high school
Beware: This man has gone down hill since the late nineties. Most likely has a receding hair line and beer gut and quite possibly, a wife. May have tendencies to resent people who moved out of town. It is OK to reminisce, but approach with caution, as objects tend to appear younger and hotter the more drinks consumed.

Species: The Re-Run
Location: Most likely close to where you currently live
Known for: Not being a total asshole the first time around...in fact, you aren't sure why things ended
Beware: There IS a reason things ended. Even if you have good sex blinders on you will remember eventually and nobody likes a repeat offender.

Species: The One That Got Away
Locations: God only knows now.
Known for: Being perfect in every way, and even more perfect over time.
Beware: As the years pass, women develop selective memory. Just because somebody maintained their looks over time, doesn't mean they are still that same old sweetie you remember. Don't forget: It's easy to remember him bringing you flowers, especially when you don't recall the time he kicked you out of his car for puking.

Species: The Neil Patrick Harris
Locations: There's one in every crowd
Known for: Being really fun, knowing the lyrics to Britney songs, wearing a preponderance of pink shirts and never being able to find a nice girl.
Beware: If it looks like a duck and acts like a duck...it's probably gay. But be nice and try and set him up with that cute guy in your office who lets you know when Perez posts something funny.

Species: The Mickey Rourke
Locations: They resurface every so often, cause a big fuss and then fade away
Known for: Being really hot and then having a tragic downfall, like jail or rehab. But then they come back a little broken but kind of better than before.
Beware: Call Dr. Drew because homeboy will prolly relapse before you can call "dibs" on his ass.

Species: The Tool
Locations: Everywhere, like roaches, these guy will survive the nuclear holocaust
Known for: General douchebaggery
Beware: You know he's bad for you, but the other half of the bed ain't gonna warm itself. Slap yourself, pinch yourself do whatever it takes, because this will most liekly end with you crying and gaining ten pounds in "fuck him" weight.

Species: The One That's Undercooked
Locations: Most likely moved away or living somewhere married
Known for: Being really awesome and totally perfect, except he "wasn't ready for anything serious."
Beware: That whole line about not being ready for anything serious is code for you aren't the right girl. And that sucks. Balls. So don't invest any time, it's like investing in stock that you will never get a return from. Send him back so they can re-fire him and serve it to someone else.

Species: The Stalker
Locations: They dwell at night, usually between the hours or midnight and 5 am or until they pass out
Known For: Calling non-stop, especially while drunk
Beware: Sure it might be cute to have a textual flirtation but be advised: this man will not stop. Ever. So don't ever show him where you live or introduce him to your pet rabbit.

Species: The Normal Guy
Locations: Like unicorns and zero-calorie vodka, these men are mostly mythical. But when a solar eclipse occurs during a half moon on the 18th, you just might get to see one!
Known for: Being awesome, liking the your favorite sports team (Mets for me, obvs) and has general good sense to just be effing normal.
Beware: If you see one, approach with caution and make sure he knows you only come with good intentions. Do not show signs of excitement, as this may make the normal guy run for the hills, only to run away on a rainbow to swim in a chocolate river with leprechauns and Edward Cullen.

Now to be fair, I am a commitment-phobe with major Daddy issues, but at least I'm not on the pole and I'm pretty open-minded (I mean, I've given all of the described above a fair shot minus the normal one).

So do we all need Tough Love? Should we all just get a coach to tell us what to do and say? Probably not, because in the end, every pot has a lid, no matter how many times that pot has slept with your roommate.

Know of more species? Post them in the comments.

My blog is older than me in dog years.

What started as a narcissistic experiment four years ago has become a narcissistic habit with ones of readers.

Yes kiddos, my blog turned four without me even remembering, which shows the growing neglect it's been receiving lately. I can say for certain that the last year of my life has been pretty effing challenging, with lots of dark spots but some pretty special bright ones as well. So without a big to do or annual re-cap, I will simply toast to this silly little blog and myself, since it's pretty much the longest I've kept anything up in my adult life.

Cheers and here's to at least one more year of stupid observations and commentary!