Yea, yea. I know.

It's been forever since I posted. Sorry kiddos, been busy and journeyed off to Costa Rica with a friend for a week. It was interesting to say the least.

I figured my July 4th was a little more interesting and in light of Michael Jackson's demise, I will share this moment of Jonesy goodness with you.

So I went to a party at my friend LB's apartment. She lives in a SICK apartment with tons of space and a roof deck for fireworks viewing. Anywho, I decided that it would be smart to drink an entire bottle (ok, I admit, it was in a box) of sangria before 10 pm. Whoops.

So the party was fun and it got all fuzzy and stuff and my signature 4-drink slur came out, which is again, whoops.

I journeyed home and happened upon my new neighbors who moved in down the hall. They are lovely gay men who invited me and the roomies to a housewarming (which I didn't attend). They must have threatened me with a good time, because the next thing you know, I was partying down at Therapy, which is probably the most fun gay bar ever.

And besides, don't threaten me with a good time because I'll go crazy on you like that chick from Rock of Love.

And did I. Yes I did. Oh how I danced. As if angels were shooting from my jazz hands and my feet were made of jumping beans, I boogied my way around the dance floor to lord only knows what. Okay fine, I was skip jumping to "Ease on Down the Road" as if I were Diana Ross and a young, alive Michael Jackson rolled into one twenty-something wasted off sangria white chick.

Now, I left with the neighbors and came home, and they went back out (I did not). Although I did drink more wine from a box.

And that my friends, is how I celebrated the birth of our nation. God Bless the U.S.A.

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.

Which is worse?

I was recently contacted vis facebook by a guy I hooked up with 7 years ago. In Switzerland. While studying abroad. Who I only knew for 4 days. He's kids of being stalkery and sending me messages, but he only has the nicest of things to say. But really, offering me a plane ticket to visit you in Canada right after getting back in touch is a bit frightening.

On the otehr hand, when there is a guy I actually have interest in, I get ignored. Like blatantly. Oh sure, there is the awkward moment or signal here or there, but nothing ever happens and I'm always left wanting more.

So which is worse? Being stalked because somebody thinks you are amazing when you probably don't feel the same way? Or having feelings for someone who either has no idea you exist or could care less how you feel?

I'm not sure.

'Tis the season...

The Chirstmas season is here so that means I have my partypants on and I'm ready to rumble. With some sort of event every other day this week my liver may have to start phoning it in while I drink water.

This past Saturday was Merry Thanksgivingmas. As prrof of my age and level of responsibility, I sent myself home right around the time I started browning out (meaning I vaguely remember some of the stuff, not a full visit to the BOC). But I was kissing random boys on the cheek, which I'm sure, scared them senseless. Yet again, the boozing scares boys.

In other news, I HAVE A NEW PHONE. For the past year I've been plagues with problems because I had a crappy Motorola RAZR. I've now upgraded to the BlackBerry Storm, since iPhones are so 2007.

So Seasons Greetings kiddos. Have a pint for your dear Jonesy when you are out and fellas, if you;re lucky, that girl smooching you on the cheek just might be me!

"Pack your bags we leave tonight!"

There are four things I will always remember about 2003.

1. I graduated college.
2. I went toVegas for the 1st time.
3. The blackout in NYC.
4. Paradise Hotel on Fox.

For those of you who don't know about the hotel, this should give you a good idea. The theme song was even like crack. "Two tickets to paradisseeeeeeeeeee, pack your bags we leave toniiight!" (yes I know that's a real song). Anywho, it was on lke 2-3 times a week, kind of like Big Brother so the season flew by.

So anyway, at the end of the season, the announcer comes on and says something like: "STay tuned for the next season of Paradise Hotel...you never know what will happen..."

And I waited. I figured like Temptation Island (awesome!) and Joe Millionaire (slurp sounds!), Fox would jump on the chance to make another edition of this quasi-hit.

And I waited. And waited some more. I reminisced about scary man-lady Toni, Zack and Amy's relationship and how hot Beau was. I bitched about the end result. And then I gave up.

I nearly peed myself when I found out that this reality gem would finally bring us a sequel...4.5 years later and on the bootleg channel, my9.

So far, things have been pretty standard, sex, booze, annoying peopleand reality all-stars (RYAN!). Then I watched last night's epi. They hinted they were bringing in a former contestant, I figured it was one of the folks they booted this season. Then the big reveal...IT WAS ZACK! FROM SEASON ONE! THE GUY WHO GOT AN EARLY BOOT BECAUSE HE WAS A JACKASS AND THEN GOT BOOTED AGAIN FOR MAKING THREATS OF VIOLENCE!

And he looked well, um, er, haggard? I remind you that this is years in the making. The new kids are all young, jacked and tan. Zack has crows feet at the age of 28 he is obvi the oldest one there. And while he seems to have bonded with Mikey over the fact that he lost Tonya the same way he was once kicked off, he seems to be siding with the Newbies, including super-tits Stefanie. Gross.

Zack, don't let me down!!!! I want an OG to win this time! Also, next week it looks like the shizz is going down! And dear my9, please put this show on more than once a week. We have at least two-three months left, please don't drag it out and make me listen to Amanda's fake accent anymore or Myrna's PAINFUL voice.

Ugh, this show is great. Watch it. It's TV at it's absoute worst, yes worse than the Hill. But it's fantastic.

If he doesn't win I'm moving to Canada.

I'm not talking about a political candidate. I'm talking about hotty hot hotterson, Perry, on Bravo's Make Me a Supermodel.

How psyched am I to see el senor en FUEGO reunite with his slutastic (ex?) girlfriend (who probably still smell of Adnan juice)? It's like reality TV Christmas (think the finale of Joe Millionaire Season 1 mixed with the bizarre pleasure of watching Toni on Paradise Hotel Season 1 and a splash of a Flavor of Love naming ceremony).


If either member of Bronnie wins I will pack my knives and go. Srsly.

Ho-tel, Mo-tel, Holiday Inn....

Hotel living suits me. As I write this, I just showered with expensive toiletries at hand (Crabtree & Evelyn), my clothes are hung up and ironed in my closet, I'm drnking a cup of fershly brewed tea and getting ready to go to bed at 10:30 pm.

Looks like Chicago has aged me into my forties and it agrees with me, I look fab.

On the other hand, I almost slipped when I got into the shower and I realized that if I fell and died, no one would find me until Tuesday when I'm supposed to check out. Whoever found me would see all of my naked lady parts. Even in death I'm still modest.

So I got out and rested my cell phone on the floor next to the tub just in case.

Being single sometimes blows. But at least I smell like delicious Crabtree & Evelyn products (although I've never seen anyone under the age of 40 shop there...shit!).

More on my Chi-town trip when I return. And no, I did not get to hang with the former crush and put an end to my lust. Figure I wouldn't keep leading you on there. Unlike some people I know.

Sadists

I love how the post wih the most comments ever is the one in which a man masturbates on my leg/butt.

You are all gross.

Is that an 8-ball in your pocket, no, it's your peen.

On the subway with Q on Tuesday. Packed rush hour train. I only had her to hold on to and some man leaning on me. I felt something poking my butt/thigh repeatedly. Then I realized the train wasn't moving.

I still feel filthy.

Everyone Was Doing It

The Wild Rose Random Brutal Love Dreamer (RBLD) shmolorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose. Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling. You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective. The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone. Your exact female opposite: The Dirty Little Secret Deliberate Gentle Sex Master Always avoid: The Bachelor (DGSM) Consider: The Vapor Trail (RBLM)

Link: The Online Dating Persona Test @ OkCupid - free online dating My profile name: : mags101681

I'm the same as her.

The Guythagorean Theorem

In an email conversation with DMBMeg, we wondered why it's always the lame guys that like us the most. Sure someone awesome will want to diddle me every so often, but it's always the lamest, weeniest possible people who want to date me. The kind of guy that wears his heart on his sleeve and tells you what an "amazing person" you are. The kind of guy that cuddles. The kind of guy that wants you to take the lead in the bedroom ALL THE TIME. The kind that isn't really funny, doesn't have much personality...kind of like the Whitney Port of guys. In a sense, a big weenie.

I am totally his type.

I have a theory that when it comes to strong and independent minded women, manly men just stay away. It's like we are a threat to their machismo. Sure they can think we are hot and want to bone us but the second we assert ourselves and say what we want we get put on the shelf.

It's like Type-A doesn't mesh with another Type-A's. You hear about power couples and I think it's bull. It's either people in a relationship of convenience (Hillary and Bill) OR some sort of weird balancing act that only exists in a perfect world.

The math works out like this:

Type A + Type B = Power wife and Mr. Mom

Type A + Type A = devizzzle


Maybe it's because I say no and I argue and always think I'm right. Maybe it's because I'm so used to answering only to myself that I give off this "I am not one to be fucked with"-vibe. Maybe I just seem scary because I refuse to be something I'm not.

Or maybe it's all my problem. Maybe I am bound to end up with a lame-ass girly-man who lets me run the show and never challenges me. God I hope not. I thrive on the challenge and I want to be led. I want someone to prove me wrong and show me that they can be the boss of me. I want someone to take control and show me how it's done rather than the other way around. I want a teacher and a leader and someone who wants me to be the same. I want the one I'm not supposed to, the one that let me down (just under different circumstances). I wish I could go back in time and change some things and find a way to make it happen rather than giving up. I wish I had never had found out what he did but I would be delusional if I wasn't somewhat relieved that I have.

Since none of that is possible, I'm left to figure out where I'm going and what the hell I'm taking from all of this. I'm a getting stronger? Am I learning more about myself? Because lately I just feel lost, like I've been on the shelf for a while and if someone doesn't notice me soon I might expire. Life is happening all around me but it's not happening to me. Essentially, except for my job and number of sexual partners, I am in the same place I was four years ago. Sitting here, on the laptop, staying strong and still chasing the boys away, one weenie at a time.

Or maybe I just need to learn how to be the neck and learn how to keep control without letting a guy know I have it. Maybe I need to compromise and ease up. (I can think of three people who will scream: DUH! to this.)

So am I destined to marry someone who will be my bitch for the rest of my life or will someday, someone find my sense of self and opinions exhilarating and fun? Or am I just a hot mess who is confused with how the world works? Or someone who is obviously overlooking the right guy for her (this I don't think is true)? Or, gulp, am I just someone who was meant to be alone and live a more solitary life? Only time can answer those questions for me, but if this theorem works out...the girly-men of NYC better watch out.

Is it just me?

Or does James on Paradise Hotel 2 look like Christian Bale...a lot.

You be the judge.

Also, as I was just on the PH2 website, I learned that one of the contestants has since died...that's really sad. How do you still air that? And the guy died like in October. When was this show taped? Does he die on the show? I hope not...but the show is on my9...they have a show called "Jail." I would not put it past them at all.

OH! BTW...

To all of those who care...the date went well. It was an actual grown up date. He's really cute. I didn't get bombed. The conversation was pleasant and hardly forced. We had a few cocktails and called it a night. He didn't attempt to maul me in the cab ride nor did he even presume that we would be hanging out really late. I think we'll probably go out again.


And, no, I didn't put out (which apparently, you aren't supposed to do...who knew?). We didn't even make out. And he still called...I guess he's this mystical creature I've heard of thought to be extinct...a how do you say..."Nice Guy?"

Great Moment in IM Conversations: 2 Girls, 1 Vomit

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Great Moments in IM Conversations: Couggery

DM: yes seems like the boys love the older ladies
Jones: its all about the young ones
DM: i dunno ive been hearing about a lot of older ladies as of late
DM: maybe u should start dating younger men.
Jones: thats what i meant
Jones: its all abou t the younger men
DM: ohhh yes
Jones: and i cant get a "date" with a guy our age let alone a younger one
Jones: i can only bed them, teach them my skills and share them with the world
DM: maybe this is an untapped resource
4:20 PM
Jones: um i've tapped it
Jones: a lot
DM: skank
Jones: i love to coug
DM: haha wurd
im a cou
g
by 4 months
Jones: doesnt count when its that little
Jones: i say 2 years or more
DM: shh
DM: yea
DM: I’ve couged
Jones: it's fun
DM: couggged
DM: how would u spell that
Jones: couged
Jones: maybe two g's?
DM: cougged
DM: yea
Jones: that looks right
Jones: we totally just made it a verb
DM: nice
Jones: speaking of cougging
Jones: i need a piece
Jones: i think ill call the intern
DM: yes that would worlk
Jones: maybe he'll booze me up
Jones: i feel like he's getting over me though
he may have met the most severe of the cougars
Jones:..accouting/finance cougar
DM: no
DM: nonono
DM:HR cougars
DM: grrrrrrrrrrr
DM:or is it meow
Jones: well they are legendary
4:25 PM
DM: oh yea
Jones: I think it's a roar
DM: like a lion
Jones: lioness
DM: ahh touche

No more basebal anxiety this year...

I've found a direct corrolation between the teams I root for and the men I choose to involve myself with. In the end, I never end up satisfied. They always come up a little short in the end. But at least most of the Mets still have their hair. Go figure...until April.

Other than that, no comment. I'm sort of devastated but I lived through the '90s. I've been let down before.

An Open Letter to Matt Damon...

Dearest Matthew:

First, I have to let you know, I love you. If I was offered a job as your personal ass pincher for the rest of my life I would glady accept. You're a hottie. Show me your peen.

Second, I have to say that I was a little hurt when your driver tried to run me over yesterday as you were leaving David Letterman. I was just trying to get home from work, not attack your car. Sure, I saw the tons of people waving at your vehicle, but I wa snot one of them because honestly, I couldn't even see you. Was it then necessary, for your black GMC truck to come barreling across 8th Avenue straight at me? I really don't think so. Was that effer Affleck driving (I assume since he has no career he is now your "Turtle" a la Entourage.)

I could have thrown myself in front of the car and sued but no, I chose to take a step back and avoid and type of mangling that your driver could provide. Since, out of the kindness of my heart, I saved you money and public embarassment, I have one request.

I would like you to sleepover. Just one night. And no sex (although I may ask you to show me the peen as noted above) because you are married and a father and I am not going the Angelina route. All my friends will come over and we'll all get wasted and maybe some people will start hooking up and me and you will be like, "Hey, isn't that weird, I never thought those two would go together." And then they will start dating and we'll still be like "Remember when they hooked up the night I had that sleepover?" And then they'll get engaged and it will be all nice and happy and then married and you'll obvs be invited because by that point you're in the click and everybody's boy. And we'll all be like "Really, who knew?" and then maybe you'll be going through a tough time in your marriage and your daughter will have just started school and Affleck's in rehab again and we'll get all deep in conversation and then make out and we won't start a whirlwind romance because you're married and you'll win your second Oscar because I inspired you and then get divorced and we'll celebrate by announcing our new relationship on Oprah and then have 3 babies and that couple who hooked up at that party will get divorced and we'll be like, "Woah! We didn't see that coming, but remember when they hooked up at that sleepover? That was weird."

Sincerely yours in all of your Bourneness,

M. Jones