My Attempt At A Short Story

As the sun-filled summer months faded into fall an improbable romance was brought to life.  A romance, which with the arrival of autumn, took shape and blossomed much like the flowers of spring whose sweet scent fills the air around them. 

These two lives - that to those from the outside looking in seemed so different - crossed paths and were brought together as the seasons began to change.  But what these two did not know was that at the end of their love affair they too would be forever changed.

This particular love affair began like most - with a momentary act of passion. 

From the very beginning the attraction was strong.  What began as a random act of lust turned into a dominant desire and need to be around each other.  All too soon their hunger for one another turned into intense cravings, only able to be quenched by the touch of the other.

Hours turned into days and days turned into nights. 

Neither one expected anything.  Neither one was looking for anything. But like most things in life the unexpected happens when you least expect it to. 

It grew to more than just a fling.  More than just a coincidental meeting.  It grew into love. 

Was it coincidence?  Was it just by chance?  Or was it fate that brought you to me?

I could feel the cool crisp air sting my face as we walked hand-in-hand down the dim lit back streets of the city. 

The smell of wood burning in the chimneys of the houses we walked past vanished into the dark depths of the night as my senses became consumed by your scent.

Though the temperature was low, as the fall breeze shook down the red and yellow leaves of the trees that lined our path, walking with you by my side brought a warmth throughout my body.  

Our eyes would meet and we would become transfixed on one another.  I would look into your dark tantalizing eyes and feel like I could see inside you.  I would feel like I could see the real you behind the mask that had been put up to allow you to avoid ever getting too involved.  I would feel like I could see above and beyond the wall that you had put up to protect yourself. That protected you from being hurt like you had been before. 

I would run my fingers through your hair just to have your scent on my hand.  I would breathe in your scent and let it linger, wishing this moment would never end.  Wishing you would one day be mine and this - our love - would never end. 

The soft brush of your skin against mine would bring a shock of chills down my spine.

Time seemed to stop when I was wrapped up in your warm embrace.  In our own world we would escape that which was pulling us in every different direction.  In our own world we were inseparable.  In our own world everything was perfect. 

Your touch was what I had been yearning for, what I had been waiting for.  Everything I had been wanting and more.  We would get lost in the stories we shared and the laughter that characterized our conversations.  

Laying lazily in bed talking about the past and planning the future were the times when I was most content.  How sweet it would be if those small moments in which we would lay within each others tight grasp would last forever.  How sweet it would be if this could go on forever. How sweet it would be if this - us - would one day be the forever I have dreamt about.  

How sweet this could have been and still could be. 

It was by chance we met. But for what reason?  But for what purpose?  Were we merely supposed to get a glimpse of what could be?  Of how sweet this love could be?

Only to be left with a broken heart and a feeling of loss?  A feeling of emptiness?  Is this forbidden love?  Were we merely supposed to get a taste of what real love is only for it to be taken from us?  

If only the feelings we so deeply have for one another could overshadow the harsh realities in which we live.  If only we could be in love like this without giving into the expectations and judgements of the outside world.  If only we could forget everyone else, everything else and run into the dusk.  Leave everything that was holding us back in the haunting shadows of the night. 

We can't be together now.  We can't be together tomorrow.  We must grow separate so that we can grow as one.  All we have is time.  

If fate brought us together it will bring us back together again.

The seasons will continue to change. Winter with all her glory will soon sweep away the leaves of autumn, leaving behind no trace of the vibrant colors that once brightened the trees.  Many more seasons will come and go as time continues to move forward but my love for you will never go away. 

And so all I can do is wait until the day that you are once again in my arms.  

All I can do is wait until the day that you are mine. 

Randomness

In the midst of the current economic situation I am now one of the 9.5 percent of Americans and 12.3 percent of Californians who find themselves unemployed. 

Since I have graduated from UCLA I have held two jobs both of which laid me off after I had been employed for a little over five months - you can file unemployment after working for a company for six months. Coincidence that right before I would be able to file unemployment I got laid off? I think not. 

It used to be that a college degree from a highly ranked university would guarantee you at least a decent job but now after being unemployed for a little over two weeks a management position at the local McDonald's is starting to look like a pretty good gig for me. Hey at least I would be able to sample the menu. On the other hand I would probably get fired faster than you can say "super size it" as I can picture myself turning down obese patrons. 

"Sorry we are currently unable to serve you because your fat ass does not need any more lard but Subway is right around the corner and I'm sure you can find a suitable meal there but you should hold the mayo." 

Note to anyone: ordering a Diet Coke with your Big Mac and super-sized fries does not make your lunch or dinner healthy. At all. 

Calories - Big Mac : 576, Large fry : 500. And for all of you who cannot add that is 1076 calories when a normal person should only consume about 1400 calories on a daily basis. You might as well order the regular coke. Fat ass. 

And so as you can see I now have an immense amount of free time on a day-to-day basis to -think about and research ridiculous topics (please see afore mentioned McDonald's topic), eat, sleep, look for jobs, look into the refrigerator hoping that miraculously some new food has magically appeared and finally contemplate whether or not I should be more productive. 

On an average day I wake up around 8 a.m. send out resumes, refresh craigslist about 25 times, send out more resumes, eat, watch t.v., listen to music, talk to Melissa five hundred times about absolutely nothing, read about my families' ridiculous Farmville conquests on facebook, and have numerous stare down contests with Stella. 

It seems now more than ever is the best time to go back to school however banks are turning down potential loan applicants faster than Lincoln University is turning down fat students' graduation dreams. 

But oh don't you worry in order to get our minds off the shit hole that is our struggling economy tabloids have flourished. Most Americans get a kick out of other people's tragedies. What better way to feel better about ourselves than by reading about celebrities public displays of retardation. 

If I hear one more thing about Jon and Kate's divorce or Tiger Woods marital indiscretions I may jump off my balcony or kick a baby. Do we not have anything better to do than revel in the mishaps of those in the public eye? Why don't we deter our attention away from the non-important lives of celebrities and instead focus on bigger issues like oh, I don't know, global warming? The recession? The conflict in the Middle East? Or how UCLA basketball can reestablish a dominate defensive presence and start showing a strong offensive prowess? 

Those are the topics that we should concern ourselves with. 

Instead more Americans subscribe to and read about the lives of those they do not know rather than about the national issues that directly effect them. 

And we still wonder how our nation has become plagued by ignorance and apathy.

OTL Weekend

Over the Line is a San Diego tradition that is a sort of softball derivative and combines sexual overtones with copious amounts of alcohol consumption.  Some take the so-called sport seriously but many others who participate in the event, such as ourselves, drink all day and attempt to bat and catch on the hot sand.

Even if you don't participate by playing, the overall experience is one that should not be missed as older women parade around in clothing, or rather lack there of, that would make any sane person vomit while older men try to get any willing gal to show their boobs.

This year rather than being a spectator as I had in previous years, Kaylee, Jenny, Stephanie and I decided to play. Now although we didn't have a raunchy name which has come to define OTL, we represented Kaylee's grandma's bar called The Waterfront.

Unfortunately for me and my liver, the night before I decided it was a great idea to stay up until 7:30 a.m. drinking. While my intentions were good that night the next day -- when we were going to partake in OTL -- my head and stomach tried to punish me.

Note to self: If you have previous engagements that require physical labor in the hot sun do not drink the night before or else you will contemplate jumping out of a moving vehicle on the freeway.

We get to Fiesta Island and I still feel like I want to die. Luckily for me I ran into people I knew who had beer. 

Ah, nothing better than a cold one to cure the hangover.

We meet up and three beers later our game is about to begin. We were nervous yeah but knew no matter what happened then and there, there would be more alcohol to be consumed and more men to be met. 

We ended up winning our first game and decided to celebrate by drinking more, which is only customary to the game of OTL. Mom and Grandma, I think it's an actual rule that you must be intoxicated while playing.

So only wanting to fit in and comply with the rules of the game us four girls drank.

Our next game wasn't quit as eventful as we got killed. 

Then and there I decided that OTL wasn't just about the game but rather enjoying your surroundings which consisted of:

• White trash
  
• Women in thongs
• Old men wearing hats that had penis' on them
• Golf carts with huge penis' on the front
• Women flashing
• Young kids crying when the cops caught them drinking
• Lesbians playing in the women's league
• Etc. Etc.

I think my favorite team name of the day was "She Told Me It Was Just A Rash."

So after once again getting killed in our third and final game the day seemed to be over. But since I had a bit of alcohol in me I didn't want it to end. My friends on the other hand were ready to go. They walked towards the car and I followed yet having ADD I got distracted along the way meeting new people and making guys give me drinks.

We didn't pay for a drink the whole day.

Every time Jenny and Kaylee would look behind them to their dismay I would have another free drink in my hand and a cigarette -- since we ran out early in the day -- and despite their anger in having to babysit me, they happily took the cigarette I had and smoked it. 

At least I come bearing gifts when I am drunk. 

Fourth Of July

Kaylee and I have a tradition of hanging out on the 4Th of July. And by hanging out I mean we get hammered, sometimes pass out before the fireworks have gone off and make awesome day-drinking decisions that aren't so awesome the next day ... and this year was no exception. 

We had planned to go to her grandma's beach house in Mission Beach which has been our usual hang out in prior years but instead opted to switch things up and go on our friend Brian's boat in Coronado Bay.

Are reasoning for abandoning our previous plans were such:

• We would be taken care of by friends who would not allow us to make bad day-drinking decisions.
  
• The food was free.
  
• The alcohol was free.
• We wouldn't have to pretend to act sober around her grandma.
• The alcohol was free.

And so on Friday the 3rd we spent the night at our friend Brian's house in Mission Valley since we planned to get up early the next day in order to enjoy a full day of sun, drinking and boating.

FYI: Our fourth of July tradition also entails enjoying a few too many cocktails the night before. 

And so only to keep the tradition alive, not because we are alcoholics, we decided it would only seem fit to consume a few adult beverages throughout the course of the night. Some of our friends came over to also partake in the drinking festivities and the night began.

We proceeded to play drinking games and get Brian's 19-year-old sister in the mix -- who ended up drinking us under the table like a champ and claim that no matter how strong we made the drink it was not strong enough.

Since Kaylee had to go to work at 4:30 the next morning I decided I would drink for the both of us and allow her to go to sleep at the reasonable hour of 2:00 a.m.  Now while I may not remember the exact sequence of events I do remember loudly playing Shakira in Spanish and impressing everyone by reciting the lyrics.  And by everyone I mean anyone who was listening and by everyone who was listening I mean I impressed myself since no one was listening. 

I proceeded to stay up until 5:00 a.m. in order to see Kaylee off to work and then pass out. 

I was abruptly awoken at 9:00 a.m. by some friends who had the bright idea of not getting hammered the night before but instead opting to drink on the fourth. 

I wanted to die. 

I didn't think I could make it through the day.

But being the amazing person I am I toughed it out and we picked up Kaylee at the Waterfront and headed down to the dock. 

Now all of Brian's family was there but since they have seen me through my fair share of rough nights I knew I could not embarrass myself.  That is until I realized in addition to his immediate family, his parents friends was there.  I knew then and there that I was going to make an ass out of myself as I do not have a filter when I get tipsy.

We took one of the boats out on a run and went tubing.  That was my first mistake.  As I got into the cool ocean water I immediately started thinking of the Jaws theme song everyone is so fond of and tried to climb back in the boat.  But they wouldn't let me. I started hyperventilating as even the beer at that point couldn't calm my nerves. I thought the next best thing was to get on the tube. I felt a bit of security when I climbed on it.  

The next mistake I made was riding on a one person tube with Kaylee as we both nudged for positioning so that we wouldn't fall off into the depths of the deep blue sea and get eaten by Jaws.

I have never had a tighter grip on something in my life, my knuckles turned white and I promised myself no matter what I would not fall off that damn tube. I'm pretty sure I would of pushed a small child or puppy off the tube if it meant that I would be safe and secure on it.

In the end we both did not fall off and we got safely back onto the boat, immediately popped open a cold one and lit a smoke after our tubing success.

We went back to the dock and ate.

Now Kaylee, unknown to me, snuck off and passed out in Brian's parents yacht.  So Brian, me, and his two friends decided to take the boat on yet another run. It was all fun and games until we were out in the middle of the ocean far away from the dock and a line got stuck in the engine and both the engine's would not turn back on.

Shit.

I was soaking wet and it felt like it was below zero outside.  We had to put it in neutral and put the whole way back.

My life flashed before my eyes, my teeth were chattering and I thought I was going to die right there in the middle of the ocean.

By now it was dark outside and no one could see us as the fireworks were about to begin.  I curled into the fetal position and started yelling help to anyone or thing that passed by. The boys yelled at me to shut up but we were stuck out there in the middle of the ocean with no more alcohol or a lighter. What would you do?

I started panicking. Luckily I screamed loud enough so that someone heard me and we got a lighter. I felt a bit more at ease.

Three freezing hours later we got back to the dock and I have never felt so great in my life. I still think I should call into the show "I Shouldn't Be Alive" and tell them my story. I would definitely be on it.

Mind you this whole time Kaylee was peacefully sleeping in the warm confines of Brian's parents boat.

Perhaps next year Kaylee and I will stick to our usual plan of going to the beach house so at least then I won't almost die by getting stuck in the middle of the ocean.

June 26 Weekend Of Whit's Wedding

So a lot has happened in the past month and I am sorry I have neglected to write about it but I have been exhausted from writing all day at work and driving 40 minutes each way in that god for saken thing called traffic.

Anyways I will try and catch you up to the best of my memory.

Please note: many of the weekends I am going to speak about involved some sort of alcohol and so I may not remember every detail.

Another note: Grandma and Mama no I am not an alcoholic I only write about funny and fun things in my blog which just so happen to involve alcohol.

The weekend of June 26 was my best friend Whitney's wedding and if you know anything about the Holum family you knew it was going to be a blast.

On Friday night we had the rehearsal at her house and rehearsal dinner shortly thereafter at Marechiaro's -- where I used to work for about two weeks.

Upon getting to Whit's house around 5:00 pm I was happily greeted by the groom-to-be who was carrying an 18 pack of Coors Light. I don't know who I was more happy to see, him or the wonderful thing that is beer. So being the nice gal I am I gladly helped him out by lightening the load he was carrying and grabbing an ice cold beverage. There is nothing better than an ice cold beer after a long day of work -- or rather a long day of pretending like I am working whenever my boss pops in.

I mingled with everyone and about three beers and one shot of Patron in we were about to begin the rehearsal. All the girls gathered in the Holum house and I don't know who suggested it -- seeing that most of the bridesmaids have the same fondness of alcohol that I have -- but before I knew it Patron was being put in shot glasses for eight girls and the father of the bride-to-be.

We cheered and took it down like champs. All of a sudden the mother of the bride-to-be charged in downed a shot and ran back out to take part in her part of the rehearsal. Classic.

After the rehearsal was over I proceeded to take another shot but this time with a few of the groomsmen and the night began.

I caught a ride to Marechiaro's with some friends and got seated. Luckily for me the Champagne bottle was directly in front of my seat but unfortunately for me I sat next to the grooms brother who proceeded to hit on me the whole night with such phrases as:

"Do you want to stay local tonight?"

"My brother and your best friend are getting married let's celebrate the two of us tonight."

And so on.....

I'll have a double now please. Now.

I drank at an unreasonably rate after I was stuck next to the drunken brother who tried to get fresh with me by periodically stroking my arm to which I swatted off.

My sole effort that night was to try and avoid any awkwardness but of course I always attract the very best of men and by best of men I mean 32-year-old men who have children, comb their hair over and turn bright red and sweaty when they drink.

I ducked out and went back home.

The next day was the wedding.

I woke up picked up my dress, got my nails done and drove down to Whit's house to get ready.

Upon arriving there I went to her neigbors house where all the girls were getting ready and I don't know if they knew I was coming but there where three bottles of patron, limes already cut and everything.

Dear Jesus,

I love you.

Love Brittany

I took two shots with Whit before I even got my hair done and had a couple of cocktails. I was feeling pretty good and I'm sure all of the other bridesmaids were too.

The whole day leading up to the wedding was amazing. Cocktails, laughs and cries were aplenty. Whitney's hair looked amazing and she was beautiful.

As the guests arrived all the girls huddled into the Holum house to prepare to walk down the aisle outside. The Patron kept flowing and I believe we all took about three more shots with the father of the bride before even walking out. It sounded like girls gone wild in the house as we screamed everytime we took a shot.

Please note: We are only products of where our parents raised us.... good 'ol east county.

The ceremony began and I couldn't stop crying Whitney looked so pretty and her husband Alex looked hansome. The ceremony was perfect with its fair share of laughs and cries. And in the blink of an eye it was over and Whitney Holum was now Whitney Benjamin.

And so the reception began.

I don't remember how much I drank but I looked like I was having fun in all the pictures that surfaced the next week or so. We danced, drank and drank some more. My mom even got involved in the drinking aspect of the night.

The following things may or may not have happened during the wedding:

The best man sleeping with the mexican maid in the bushes.

The mexican maid falsely accusing me of throwing up in Whitney's bathroom.

Me freaking with the father-of-the-bride.

Me talking to people I have not seen in years and having no idea what I said to them.

One of the bridesmaids falling off a swing.

The groom asking me to not let Whitney drink that much because he wants her to be able to make it down the aisle.

The bride needing to take a poop before she went down the aisle only to realize it was a false alarm.

It was seriously the best wedding ever, I wouldn't have changed a thing and I'm sure Whitney feels the same. This one is for the record books.

The Weekend of June 19 (A Long Time Ago I Know But My Computer Hasn't Been Letting Me Get On Here)

So as of late I have done a lot of moving and I am now living in Oceanside with my aunt, uncle, their two dogs and my two dogs. It is quite a full house but it's nice and there is never a dull moment especially with four crazy dogs running a muck. It actually looks like we are running some sort of kennel for naughty dogs who bark at anything that makes noise, persist to play while we are watching tv and lay on us in a way that makes us so uncomfortable but accomodates their needs.

Dog ownership is a sick thing. You go out of your way to make them happy at the expense of your own well-being and sanity. But all in all it has been nice and relaxing given that the previous week I stayed in three different places.

In addition to finally having my own room, the fact that my boss is gone on vacation made my week all the more pleasant as the office or rather the Nazi concentration camp he runs became more relaxed in his absence. My week went by without any complaints from me as I previously stated Hitler aka my boss was out of the office.

On Friday day I was all primed and ready to go out to Stingaree with some girlfriends as my good friend Brian was having an art show there. The whole day I didn't feel well, threw up in a McDonalds cup but still manned up enough to go out to the club. Upon getting there I was in an utter disbelief as I was already tipsy and there were no attractive men there. Not one. Not even with beer goggles.

I mean in all honesty I'm really not that that picky but I'm pretty sure balding middle aged men should not be at a night club for the following reasons:

A. It's creepy

B. It makes everyone uncomfortable

C. They should be home watching Frasier reruns

D. It's creepy

Seriously though if you look like you could be someones grandfather a nightclub is not the place for you. No offense to grandmas and grandpas but the middle aged 40 + men are only there looking for a nice hot thing to make a trophy wife and someone who will help them administer viagra when in the mood. Me on the other hand not my sort of thing.

Kaylee, Jenny, Stephanie and I talked and hung out but as I was still not feeling all that great so I decided to drive back to O Side and call it a night.

Saturday was quite possibly the best day of my life. I did absolutely nothing. I proceeded to watch four different movies back-to-back and only left the house once in order to get food.

Weekend of June 10

So with the kids and I staying with Kaylee last weekend we had the privilege of staying in the cozy confines of her beach house in Mission Beach. I had worked what seemed to be the longest week of my life and so after work on Friday I was greeted by Kaylee and the kids.

Since Kaylee had to work the next morning super early we decided to stay in and watch scary movies. Aw aren't we so cute..... or pathetic.

On Saturday June 10 my friend Krista graduated from UCSD and despite Kaylee, Jenny and I showing up 2 hours late to her graduation party, for no good reason, we all had a great time. My immediate thought after greeting Krista was to find the alcohol I saw in her family and friends' hands. Once I found where they were hoarding the beer I began to drink at an unreasonably fast rate. After three beers in 20 minutes I was cracking jokes with everyone and Krista and I were the life of her party.

Please note: If you are having a party and want to be the center of attention do not invite me as I will steal your glory because I was an only child for 20 years and I still I think everything is about me. Cause it is.

But back to Krista's party.... her whole family was there and it was a lot of good times with good people.

After her party we all headed back to Kaylee's beach house for some drinks and to get ready to go out. We decided to go to sandbar, which is less than a block away and easy to walk or crawl to after consuming drinks. We put on another coat of makeup, deodorant and perfume and were off.

Now for all of you who know Jenny, Krista, Kaylee and I when we are together it is craziness. There doesn't even have to be alcohol involved for us to be the life of the party and act crazy but when you add alcohol into the equation shit hits the fan.

The following things may or may have not happened to one or more of us thus far in our drunken nights:

Throwing up in a bed all over the sheets, falling off a skateboard in the middle of the street, bathing suit tops coming off in a jacuzzi, having a make out contest with a random guy on the boardwalk, waking up to find sand in not so pleasant places, jumping off a cliff in havasu because your friend propositions you with a beer bong, waking up with no pants on and the list goes on.

However please note: I have left out many other things that have occured as I do not want to divulge to you, the reader, some of the not so PG situations we have found ourselves in.

But back to the four of us going out for Krista's graduation. We get to the bar only to come to the horrible realization that there are no attractive men. And when I say none I mean none.

Now our conversations about the men went something like this:

"Hey that guy would be cute if he had all his teeth, yeah his friend would be cute if his nose wasn't the size of the banana." Anytime your night begins like this nothing good ever comes out of it. It will usually end in my friends or I kissing the ugly guy because the rest of us will sadistically conspire to tell the other that the ugly guy with no teeth and acne actually is cute once you get to know him.

A couple of vodka/crans later the men became more attractive and my friends became more fun. We proceeded to not give a shit what anyone else thought and started making up dance moves in the middle of the dance floor. We laughed, drank, danced, met random guys and had soooo much fun. Some guys came back to the house but when the alcohol was all out I decided to go to sleep since none of the guys seemed as cool or attractive when I couldn't see double anymore.

So I went to bed and woke up the next morning with my hair, chest and hands covered in something sticky and a lollipop stuck to my shirt. I don't remember eating a sucker. As I walked out to the living room and was made fun of by my friends I swooped in on their current conversation about how they were mad because three hot boys spent the night. Now this usually would never be a problem except for the fact that we had no idea they slept there. Now I'm not a genius or anything but I'm pretty sure it's a good night when there are three hot men, three girls and a slumber party results. But the fact that we didn't even know that's just depressing. How did we not jump on this opportunity? It's no wonder why the four of us are all single as apparently we love drinking alcohol and passing out more than we love the embrace of a man.

The next day my mom, Heleyna and Michael met me at the beach to go to Belmont park and ride the rides. It was so great to see them all and we had sooooo much fun riding the rides, eating cotton candy and going to the beach. Heleyna went on the scariest rides and Michael went on the merry-go-round, a submarine and a little boat. It was so cute seeing how much fun they had and to see that even the simplest things in life make kids so happy.

Krista came over to the beach house after they left and brought with her a small bar with many handles of liquor. I obstained from drinking for the night but Krista managed to get a great buzz and be the usually happy drunk she is.

I went to bed and my work week started the next day. Now usually I will compare my work to a Chinese sweatshop but with my boss out of town the atmosphere was a little less than the usual concentration camp we work in. I believe that week my attire consisted of either sweats or jeans and doing the least amount of work possible. All in all it was a great weekend that was followed by a good week.

Be still my babies funnier blogs will follow. But until then I will end with a little food for thought: friends don't let friends get fat and if they do they aren't good friends. I am now considering finding new friends.

This Crazy Little Thing Called My Life

To make a long story short my life has been a little hectic as of late. 

But to avoid all the boring details as to why on a daily basis I contemplate ways in which I can torture others to make myself feel better I will just explain how my week has gone thus far. 

On Monday I spent the night at my friend Brian's house. I brought my dogs with me and had to keep Charlie contained in Brian's room as at times he will bite innocent bystanders. I then proceeded to not only make Brian feel unwelcome in his own room, since Charlie would threaten his life him every time he walked in,  I took over Brian's bedroom as Charlie claimed it as his own. Kaylee, Krista, Charlie, Stella and I all slept together while Brian took the couch. 

And in case you didn't know, that many people and/or animals in one bed is not the most comfortable way to sleep. I believe laying in the middle of the street as cars swerved around to avoid hitting  me would be more peaceful than sleeping with my two friends who proceeded to stick their feet in my face while making weird noises in their sleep.   

On Tuesday night I spent the night in Alpine at Kaylee's house and if situations could not get worse Charlie tried to commit suicide by trying to make friends with a horse. The little angel presumed to go in the stall with a horse known to kick dogs in the head. Luckily my death threats to Charlie paid off as he did not get kicked in the head.

Kaylee and I made dinner, which consisted of hamburger helper and frozen corn, and watched "He's Just Not That Into You." While it was supposed to be a comedy, I didn't find anything funny about it as every situation made me realize why I am still single. I would consider it more of an informational movie as to why all of my relationships have failed.

On Wednesday night I again spent the night with Kaylee but this time it was at her beach house. Things were starting to look up as the kids and I were couch surfing in style. But I then thought it was a good idea to drink massive amounts of alcohol by myself. While trying to peer pressure my friends into falling off the wagon with me I presumed to drink myself under the table. Apparently peer pressure doesn't work on anyone except for me. For example you don't even have to pressure me to drink, I have adopted Nike's moto and just do it...on a nightly basis.

Note To Self: Drinking on a work night is not a great idea. Not only are you extremely hungover and very unproductive at work but you contemplate ways to kill your coworkers which is very unhealthy and psychotic. 

But back to Wednesday night. I presumed to proposition this guy who I thought was cute at the time in passing to come over and hang out. I got a free bottle of champagne that night but the next day I had to try and reason with Kaylee and myself that he was cute. 

Another Note to Self: when you have to reason with yourself that a guy is cute chances are he is not. 

I spent the night on Thursday again at Kaylee's beach house. Kaylee and I presumed to stay on the wagon and not consume any alcoholic beverages. It was hard at first but I was glad I had someone there to comfort me during the shakes. We went to bed relatively early but I woke up this morning more tired than ever. I went to work and that was uneventful and depressing as Kaylee texted me numerous times telling me to come home. 

Dear Kaylee, 

I can't come home I have to fucking work but thanks for making sure I know that you are home taking naps and relaxing. 

Love, Brittany

P.S. I hate you. 

My friends try to ruin my life everyday. I think I need new friends.

Hopefully this weekend will be more eventful, as my boring life is deterring me from being funny in my blogs, but until then: Don't get caught drinking while driving and spay and neuter your pets.

Weekender

After working for what seemed to be a month straight in a Chinese sweat shop, but what realistically only amounted to be a normal 9-5 work week, I was hell bent and ready to go out on the town.

I had not been out in two weeks and so despite being deathly tired after a long day I put on another layer of makeup, took a Mexican shower - and for those of you who don't know what it is, it is another application of deodorant followed by spraying on a lot of perfume - and then went to Mission Valley.

Jenny came over and so I grabbed a drink for the road and we were off to my friend Brian's house to go in the jacuzzi and consume more than enough alcoholic beverages.

Upon arriving to Brian's house I saw that the boys were spray painting blank canvas' so of course I decided it would be a great idea to get in on the action and spray paint while already intoxicated. Of course that didn't end up being the best idea as I already am artistically challenged and with alcohol involved it was a disaster waiting to happen. Mind you Brian and his friends are trained artists and know what they're doing, me on the other hand....not so much. We drank, danced, drank some more, painted, and had a great night with great friends...or at least I think that's what happened.

Kaylee and I ended up passing out in Brian's bed and I woke up the next morning to the utterly horrifc sight that is Kaylee without makeup, after too little sleep and drool crust covering the corners of her mouth. At first glimpse I was wondering where the hell I was and why the hell was Kaylee laying next to me instead of one of the hot men that frequented Brian's house.

I then thought to myself:

"SELF: perhaps there were not any cute men present and instead those wretched beer goggles tried to ruin your life again by tricking you into thinking that a bald, overweight-divorcee is actually attractive."

I then smiled as I became pleased with myself that in my drunken stupor I made the executive decision to pass out before I did something I would regret. Yay me.

Kaylee and I (in Brian's bed minus Brian) looked over the edge to see him passed out in his boxers on the ground next to his bed. Operation find a comfortable place to sleep at someone else's house, perhaps stealing their bed in the process, was a success. However the joke was on me as I ended up with more paint on me than on the painting I made and woke up to people laughing at me because unbenounced to me I had paint all over my arm which had rubbed off onto my face during my peaceful-passed out sleep.

I also had drawings covering my arms as apparently I had asked people to draw on me because at the time I thought it was cool. The morning after was another story. I looked like I had a rough night, and not the good kind, as I couldn't get off the paint despite scrubbing in the shower for 15 minutes until my arm felt like it was going to fall off.

After chugging two glasses of water and praying to God to make me feel better, we went to The Waterfront for breakfast to see Kaylee who was working that day.

Note to self: going to a bar for breakfast while hungover = bad idea.

I put my arms on the counter and plopped my head between them all while yelling at Kaylee "Excuse me mam our service is horrible; excuse me I need water; I need better service, this place sucks etc. etc"

Please note: If you work anywhere in public do yourself a favor and do not tell me where it is at as I will come in, make an ass out of myself and take everyone down with me.

But the food was amazing and Kaylee got off shortly thereafter so we ditched the boys and went to her beach house.

Now any sane person who goes to the beach would actually walk onto the sand and lay in the sun by the ocean but not Kaylee and I. Despite the beautiful day we presumed to nap inside for a good two hours. After we couldn't sleep any longer I rolled over to Kaylee and said "Ok now lets get really drunk," and I know she will be a lifelong friend because to that she said "Sounds great."

And so around 2:30 p.m. we made our first drink of the day. (The beer we consumed at 11:00 a.m. doesn't count because that was just to cure the hangover). We care so much about our health that we decided to make vodka/crans because as per us "The cranberry juice will clean out our system while we drink!"

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur. I know more people came over and I ended up pissing off a lot of people because according to my friends I'm a mean drunk. I do remember that Melissa came over and Kaylee and I happened to be fighting at the time. Kaylee and I frequently fight during our drunken times as usually one of four things happen:

A. She is being a bitch
B. I am being a bitch
C. She becomes very sentimental
D. Refer to B.

Melissa then told both of us that we were being ridiculous and that she really needed a beer especially after dealing with our drama. So we made up, continued our drinking and I continued my mean-drunk state.

True fact: one of our friends who happens to be black was making fun of my tattoo and so I presumed to tell him he is just jealous because he can't get a color tattoo. When he asked me why I told him it was because he was tanner than most people. Seriously who does that?

Note to self: try to think before I talk.

I went home to my mom's house later Saturday and was locked out. After knocking on the door for 20 minutes praying to Babe Ruth that my step-dad didn't wake up and my baby brother didn't wake up either, my mom let me in. We talked till 2 a.m. about life and it was a great talk.

I woke up around 12:30 p.m. on Sunday and tried to cure my ailing body and liver both of who punished me the whole day for my sleep deprivation and alcoholic-like tendencies.

And then today I went to work. Is it Friday yet?

P.S. I am going to try to be a nicer person when I drink.

P.P.S. Keyword in the last statement was "Try."

The Birds and the Bees

It can happen at any time and any place. It can happen when you're least expecting it. You never want it to happen, you pray to God, Buddha, Brad Pitt or whoever you worship to not let it come to this but chances are you have experienced "the talk."

You know that awkward conversation with your parents or even your family members about the "birds and the bees."

On a Side Note:
What the hell do birds and bees have to do with sex? I'm not a biologist and don't claim to be an expert on the creation of species but I'm pretty sure birds and bees don't fornicate with one another nor do they don't make some new hybrid animal. Whoever the sick person was who thought about birds and bees doing it should be put on some sort of medication.
On second thought maybe I should increase my dosage of medication because the more I entertain the idea of birds and bees having sex the more I like the scenario.

Now you may be saying what the hell is this girl talking about but picture this:

The bird is the female and the bee is the male.

The two meet and decide they are both adults and should have a night of reckless passion.

The bird ultimately gets what she wants out of the deal (yeah she's a little sore afterward with the bee stinging her and all) but then the bee dies (because a bee can only sting once).

Now the bird doesn't have to worry about STD's because she knows it was his first time, she doesn't worry about faking a headache later because he wants more lovin' and she doesn't have to worry about him running off to tell all his bee friends about their sexual charade because he's dead.

Sounds great to me.

But back to the talk about the "birds and the bees" with your family. Now this is already an awkward enough conversation as noone wants to talk about bodily fluids, functions or whatever with their parents. Nor does anyone want to hear or think about their conception.

I too have had this talk with my mom and dad and it was bad but it did not come close to being as bad as having the same sort of conversation with my boss who I have known for a whole two weeks.

And this is how it went down:

While in the midst of what I thought was an innocent tutorial from my boss about how to use a certain website to quote sources when writing it quickly turned into the most awkward thing ever.
While showing me a website about Law I foolishly divulged a bit of my personal life to him by telling him I already knew about the site because I used to date a lawyer.

Note to Self: Never say anything to boss anymore.

Upon hearing that I used to "date" my boss proclaimed "you're not allowed to have a boyfriend!"

Second Note to Self: Look into terrets syndrome and observe boss to see if he has it.

After his comment that I was not allowed to have a boyfriend I made an awkward laugh as I realized my previous statement about dating someone just opened pandora's box. The next statement from my boss was that all men are assholes and only want one thing. Hmmmm I wonder what that one thing could be? Could it be the same thing I want?
(Grandma I'm talking about chocolate cake).

My boss then proceeds to tell me they only want one thing and when they get it they leave and that I should wait for the right guy.

The following options ran through my head:

A. Run away
B. Cry
C. Kill myself
D. Run away, Cry and then Kill myself

Any of those would of been better than trying to maintain a straight face while being told by my superior that abstinence is the way because men love 'em and leave 'em.

Wow.

And if I thought that was the end of it I was wrong.... the very next day he presumed to tell me about Ray Charles and how the effect of heroin is much like that of an orgasm.
And I thought I was crazy....

A Long Time Coming

All of my blog fans (aka my Grandma) have been asking me why I have not been writing blogs that much recently, and besides the obvious reasoning that my prescription for vicodin ran out - which to any sane person would make them sleepy but of course has the opposite effect on me, an effect I can only relate to what crack does to a person....or so I've heard - and so other than that I don't really have a good answer. Oh wait maybe it's because my life for the past two weeks has been extremely boring and consists of working, sleeping, eating, working....oh yeah and working.

Let me break it down for you right quick.

On an average day I wake up around 8:15 a.m. - I should be waking up at 7:30 but of course my alarm clock always tries to ruin my life by allowing me to hit the snooze button at least ten times (whoever decided that button was a good idea was wrong).

I then proceed to get ready for work.

This routine consists of rolling around in bed for a good 15 minutes contemplating suicide or calling in sick to a job I have held for a whole two weeks while being licked and jumped on by Charlie and Stella. (And no I am not in a threesome bisexual relationship I have two dogs).

I then get out of bed and take them outside to allow them to relieve themselves and have an ice cold ciggarette. I come back inside wash my face, eat breakfast and on a good day brush my teeth.

Realizing it's now 8:45 a.m. and I should be at work by nine I rush to throw together a business-like outfit, straighten my hair and put on some makeup - which usually ends up looking like I put it on while intoxicated. For those of you who know me the outfit has to be the most difficult part for me as a UCLA t-shirt and comfy shorts have become my uniform.

I hop in the car just to sit in traffic and make it to work by 9:30 and start on my first cup of coffee. After sitting around for a good 15 minutes in my chair dreaming of the days when "summer" meant not having to do anything sober, I check my e-mail, go on pandora to put on some music and then see what I have to do for the day. And then I work writing all day.

Please note: For the sake of myself, my co-workers and for security purposes I will not indulge in writing what else I do at work. If you would like to know I will tell you in conversation without recording devices present.

P.S. Michael Pines (my boss) if you are reading this I love my job.

I get off around 5:30-6:00 p.m. and rush out the door just to sit in, you guessed it, more traffic putting me at home around 6:30 p.m. I get home throw on my uniform (UCLA t-shirt and boxers) and play with Michael. After being exhausted from the days work I get calls from my friends asking me to go out to this bar or club only to turn them down because I want to get in a good nights sleep.

Depressing. Good thing I'm on medication.

Throughout the day Melissa and I talk about 20 times: As I stated in a previous blog Melissa and my relationship is "special". We are the sisters we both never wanted, best friends and way too much alike which in any relationship; friend, foe or lovers, is never is a good thing.

Again as I said in a prior post to anyone on the outside looking in we look like we are in a relationship: a bipolar, dysfunctional, want to kill myself relationship. If I don't answer her phone call Melissa will presume to call me ten times in a row because she knows I always have my phone with me and if she can annoy me enough I will answer.

Today:

Melissa: What are you doing

Brittany: I'm at work what the hell do you think I'm doing
Melissa: Oh when are you going to take a break

Brittany: I don't know

Melissa: Let's get lunch

Brittany: Ok when

Melissa: I don't know

Brittany: Ok we made a lot of progress out of this conversation. I got to go bye.

Five minutes later:

Melissa: What are you doing

Brittany: Working

Melissa: Still?

Brittany: Stupid bitch it's only 11:00 a.m. you know I work until 5:30

Melissa: Oh. When are we going to get lunch?

Brittany: I don't think I can today how about tomorrow

Melissa: What the F*** Brittany you said we would and now I made plans with you and I could of gone with someone else and not been waiting on you

Brittany: Melissa I can't today alright

Melissa: Whatever screw you bye

Five minutes later:

Melissa: Hey what's up

Brittany: Nothing what are you doing

Melissa: Nothing

Brittany: Cool

Melissa: Yeah

Brittany: Yeah

Etc. Etc. Etc.

And so in conclusion I will try to write more blogs but as you can see my non-eventful life is hindering my creativity.

In other news the Padres lost again today. Is it football season already? At least the Lakers are in the finals.

Friday Night of Memorial Day Weekend

As I sit here by myself being so lame on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, I have come to the realization, through my current status of holding a real nine-to-five job, that the real word sucks.

I know I am only 23 years old, still in my prime, but after working all week I turned down offers to go out opting to instead stay in and get some rest because I am so tired and so not used to getting up anytime before noon. I know I'll go out tomorrow night but I still feel ridiculous for staying in on a weekend that had before now been like Christmas to me.

Memorial day weekend in prior years had always brought with it plans of debauchery.

It was a weekend that my friends and I would look forward to for months on end. It was a weekend where we would actively plan on engaging in mindless drunken activities. Activities such as talking to other intoxicated people about the meaning of life, inviting guys back to the house just to get back and realize there was no more alcohol and the guys weren't that cool when they weren't buying you a drink.

It was a weekend where we would convince ourselves, in our state of drunken stupor, that things like: riding a skateboard while intoxicated, operating any motorized machine after consuming alcoholic beverages, or talking to a guy while having to hold yourself up on the bar counter because if you attempted to stand up straight you would fall, were brilliant.

But of course the wonderful ideas would result in bruises and cuts that didn't hurt until the next morning when the numbness of the alcohol had worn off.

After tending to the injuries, drinking gallons of water and nursing yourself back to life you would remember talking to a cute guy, forgetting it was after five red-headed sluts and a few too many vodka/crans, and would proceed to check his myspace only to come to the sobering realization that he's missing a couple teeth, shaves his head because he is balding, is currently unemployed, lists his favorite interests as getting drunk and going off-roading, has Joe Dirt and Girls Gone Wild: College Babes under his favorite movies section and that his name is actually Jeb after you had been calling him Jeff the entire time.
Note to self: operation find husband or any decent man for that matter while drunk = bad idea.

My friends and I would go to the beach, the river or wherever they had alcohol and drink like it was our job. We would then follow our excessive drinking with late night mexican food trips and at times the numerous shots that seemed so fun at the time would result in someone waking up the next morning, hungover, wondering what the hell happened and why aren't they wearing any pants.

And yet although I didn't go out I still managed to find a way to spend over a hundred dollars in a single sitting. The only difference is that the money I spent tonight wasn't at a bar and won't make me feel like my head will explode tomorrow morning.

After dinner with the family I went to "The Target" as my baby brother Michael says it and took Michael with me. He means everything to me and I spoil the shit out of him.
After running into about five people I knew from high school, all of who proclaimed "I didn't know you had kids," Michael and I were off to shop.

I went to Target to pick up a few new shirts for work and I ended up getting myself three while Michael ending up leaving the store with three new shirts of his own, a slip-n-slide and a race car that moves forward and in reverse when you push buttons. How the kid manages to get everything he wants, sometimes without even asking, is beside me.

The Lakers or Rather the Cause of My Alcoholism

I consider myself an avid Lakers fan and this relationship we have, me as a fan and they as the team I am a fan of, is a love/hate relationship.

It goes like this: I hate to watch them choke and they love to make me watch them choke especially in the last few minutes of the game after I have invested numerous hours cheering.
I shout and cheer in hopes that through some miraculous intervention, maybe even from God himself, Kobe will hear me shouting "Go Kobe" and he will in turn go for 100 points and the Lakers will win. But as things are going as of late Kobe could go for 100 and the Lakers would still lose, most likely in the last thirty seconds by giving the ball back to the other team.

Now I am not a basketball player but I'm pretty sure that a main staple in the game is to not give the other team the ball especially when the game is on the line. I mean I'm just going out on a limb here.

This relationship is one of the hardest I have ever been in. It has brought me to the brink of tears, led to my alcoholic tendencies and all along been like a rollercoaster ride. I should just jump off the rollercoaster mid-ride and yet like an abused dog I keep on coming back for more.

I can only relate their wins and losses to the circumstances surrounding a battered woman. When they lose I feel beat down, I cry and vow to never go back and then the very next game they win and it is as if they are apologizing to me personally for being such a horrible companion the previous game and I am drawn back in.

It's a vicious cycle and yet I can't seem to shake it.

I have never felt so many mixed emotions in any other aspect of my life other than the hours I watch the Lakers play.

Perhaps this obsession is why I am still single. This relationship already takes up enough of my time and I can't commit to yet another relationship when I am currently still in one.

The Start of My Day with Melissa

As I was driving down the freeway at 8:30 a.m., cutting in and out of traffic as to try and get one step ahead of my fellow commuters, I decided to call my friend Melissa.

Now at times Melissa and I try to torture one another. Among other torture techniques we engage in in order to annoy the other person one I fancy the most is the late night calls I make to her, when I know she is sleeping, in hopes of waking her up and ruining her peaceful sleep.

Kindly Melissa will return the favor the next morning sometimes at 6 or 7 a.m. when she awakes for the day when I am engaging in some one on one time with my bed and pillow. Abruptly I will be awakened from the horrific sound, that is Melissa's ring tone, as she proceeds to call me 6, 7 sometimes 10 times in a row to ensure that I wake up and can't fall right back to sleep.

I mean after all what are friends for?

So back to today. As I was driving down the freeway already pissed off because I had to be up early to go to work just to be stuck in traffic for 40 minutes while driving to La Jolla which should in fact only take me 20 I decided to call Melissa.

To my utter dissapointment Melissa was up and happily answered the phone.
Note to self: Operation piss Melissa off in the morning failed.
She told me she too was on her way to La Jolla and was only a mile or two ahead of me. Thrilled at the mere idea that she too had prior engagements which forced her out of bed before 7:30 a.m. I jumped at the chance to see what she looked like at this time of the morning as previously I had only seen her up at this hour after nights of heavy drinking that lasted into the day.

So after almost getting in numerous accidents and making Melissa hold up traffic by slowing down so we could drive side by side, we met on a two lane freeway driving next to one another.

Our conversation went some thing like this:

Melissa: Hey
Brittany: Hey I can see you
Melissa: Yeah I look like shit
Brittany: Yeah you do
Melissa: Let's get coffee
Brittany: I can't I have to go to work and I don't want to be late
Melissa: Come on Brittany we never see one another
Brittany: Ok fine but in my building
Melissa: Fine but you're paying for my parking
Brittany: Whatever
Melissa: Shit are there any hot lawyers in your building cause I look like shit
Brittany: Yeah you do but I look cute
Melissa: F**K you
Brittany: I hate you

So we get to the coffee place and get our respective freshly brewed drinks and our conversation is amazing. And by amazing I mean ridiculous.
But I always wonder how the two of us must look to outsiders when we talk to one another.
Either A. they think we are neurotic
B. we look like lovers in a quarrel
C. they think we are retarded or
D. all of the above.

Brittany: So I think I'm addicted to pills I take at least four advil a day
Melissa: At least you admit you have a problem
Brittany: Yeah that's true
Melissa: So I wanted to smoke the other day
Brittany: Why didn't you
Melissa: I didn't want to
Brittany: Oh cool

We talked about other things and no matter what we talk about we laugh, mostly at ourselves, and our conversations always end with a cheerful goodbye. I believe it is something to the extent of

Melissa: Bye Bitch
Brittany: Yeah Bye Hook

So after that was over I went to work and started dozing off. My coffee kicked in around 9:30 a.m. and I felt recharged and energized but unfortunately the novelty soon wore off. During the day I consumed two large black coffee's, around 10 diet pepsi's and I still crashed around 11:00 a.m, 1:00 p.m., 3:00 p.m. I felt like I was being thrust head first into a wall. Driving home I was a zombie as yet again I was stuck in more traffic at 5:30 p.m.

This day got me thinking....

Whoever created a 9-5 work day should be shot. If I were in charge it would go something like this - start work at 11 a.m. lunch at 12 p.m. work until 2 p.m. break for tea time and then be done around 3 p.m., leaving just enough time to go home clean up to go out for happy hour - I think tomorrow I'll put that in the suggestion box.

Random Thoughts While Stuck in Traffic

As I was in the midst of what would amount to be a 3 hour and 45 minute drive from Los Angeles to San Diego (after having my mouth drilled on by a dentist who after finishing screwing a metal screw into my mouth presumed to hit on me as I was actively drooling on myself from the numerous novacaine shots) I began to ponder all sorts of random things.

Perhaps I was attempting to deter my mind from the not so healthy things I was contemplating doing while at a complete stop on the freeway: would it be more fun to A. slam my car into the car in front of me or B. burn myself in the eye with a lit ciggarette? I quickly realized while both of these masochistic ideas would at the time be more fun and enertaining than traffic, they might not be the best ideas I have ever had.

So rather than be destructive I switched my mindset to be more constructive with all this wonderful time I found on my hands.

And so while looking out my window at the gang graffitti that painted the walls lining the freeway - one of which proclaimed "I love Octomom," - I thought "Self, wouldn't it be great if there were a type of concrete, plaster or building material that would not allow paint to stick to it so the un-artistic graffitti wouldn't litter the walls of the great state of California."


After realizing I was retarded I quickly moved away from this idea since it seems way too farfetched and ridiculous. And so I decided instead that when I got home I would start my own gang. I knew that I would have at least five people in my gang from the start.

The first being my baby brother because he is pretty gangster and is down to punk a kid off the swing set and push them off the slide and shit. With him we would run the playgrounds in San Diego, punking all the 3-4 year olds and stealing their lunches then selling them back to their parents for some sort of income. We would even graffitti in chalk claiming our territory.

The second person I knew would join my gang is my little sister Heleyna. She is half mexican and that alone is intimidating to the 9-10 year old white kids that frequent schools. With her we would run the 4th and 5th graders, forcing them to hand over their recreational drugs and force them to then push their own product on the streets of El Cajon. If they didn't do what we told them to we would get real gangster and tell them Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny were not going to come unless they followed what we said.

The next two that I knew would be in my gang are Charlie and Stella. If any of you know Charlie he is down to take a bite out of a bitch and Stella is down to cut a bitch, she already does what I tell her to and if I told her to kill someone she would. With them in hand we would rule the dog parks pushing the dogs around stealing their bones and shit. Charlie would mark our territory for us as he frequently does on the grass or when he lift his leg on people's flowers.

This idea could work and instead of forcing my followers to drink purple kool aid we would drink red kool aid minus the cyanide because whats the point in killing off the only people who believe in what you believe in? Too bad Jim Jones learned the hard way.