That Time I Passed Out in the Airplane Lavatory

If you were me, this is how your last flight would have gone….

3:30 AM: Wake up.

3:31 AM: Snooze.

3:40 AM: Curse yourself for choosing a 7 AM flight.

4:30 AM: Pat yourself on the back for not forgetting anything.

5:30 AM: Arrive at airport. Realize you forgot your pillow for the 5+ hour flight.

6:30 AM: Meet up with other coworkers. One gives you flavored vodka.

My coworker thinks I’m an alcoholic….

7:00 AM: Plane takes off. Fall asleep.

7:45 AM: Wake up feeling nauseous despite the dramamine.

7:46 AM: Try to wait it out.

7:47 AM: Contemplate if it’s better to puke in the bag or climb over 2 people to go to the bathroom.

7:48 AM: Envision enough puke to overflow the bag and decide on the bathroom.

7:49 AM: Faint in bathroom.

The bathroom I was in was approximately 1/100th of this size.

?:??: Wake up on bathroom floor and wonder how long you were out.

?:??: Check yourself for puke. There is none.

?:??: Wait to see if you’re going to puke.

?:??: Embarrassed that people will think you fell in (or are going #2), return to your seat.

7:55 AM: Tell your coworker you fainted. Remember the flavored vodka he gave you.

7:57: AM: Curse your doctor for prescribing an antibiotic you can’t drink with.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Whaaaattt? Never eat pie? Is this even Thoughtsy? No. Can’t be. It’s definitely a pod person!”—And Today Folks

The Trifecta: Fat, Old, and Small Boobs

This story I’m about to tell all happened within 30 minutes. I shit crap you not. Look. I cussed. You know it’s real.

Recently, I stopped by my old job to visit Matchmaker Coworker. Someone else was there that I hadn’t seen in awhile.

Forever-Single Old Guy: You look…different.

Co-Worker: It’s her eyelashes. She looks cute.

Me: Do I look old? I’m almost 32.

Forever-Single Old Guy: I think you’ve put on a few pounds.

Me: ::mouth drops open::

Forever-Single Old Guy: You filled out. It’s good. You look more…mature.

Me: So I’m fat…and old. Fantastic.

I’ve put on 3 pounds since I worked there. Three pounds. Obviously, it’s 3 pounds of muscle. Grrrr….

After this exchange, I decided to hide in my cubicle for the rest of the day. But back in my new building, I found a bake sale in the lobby.

Unsuspecting-Victim-of-Poor-Timing: Would you like to buy something from our fundraiser?

Me: No, thank you.

Unsuspecting-Victim-of-Poor-Timing: We have healthy stuff, too: fruit, granola bars…water.

Me: Seriously?

Back at my desk, I showed Ddot the t-shirts Matchmaker Coworker and I were wearing for a special event.

We mispelled “Ddot.”

Ddot: So these are Matchmaker’s boobs?

Me: No…. They’re mine.

Ddot: They look….

Me: Too big to be mine. I know. It’s the font.

Ddot: No, the hair…looks like….

Me: Just let it go….

Who knew all of that was possible before 10 AM? That, my friends, is why I blog.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I say go with every opportunity. Best case you meet the man of your dreams. Worst case you get a blog post. Ok, almost every opportunity. I just got a random flash of slasher movie still shots.”—Skipping Stones

Someone Get This Kick-Me Sign Off My Back

Soooooo…someone asked me out.

Guy: Since you’re single now, I hope you’ll let me take you out sometime.

Unfortunately for him, I overanalyze everything. So I was 99% sure “take you out” was code for “sleep with you.”

Guy: I know it’s probably too soon, and I don’t want to be your rebound, but I’m afraid that if I wait too long, some guy will scoop you up before I get a chance.

As it turns out, he’s just a nice guy, and my overanalyzation was unneeded.

But then he waved a red flag. Metaphorically.

Dangled it right in front of my nose. Metaphorically.

Guy: It takes me a few dates to see someone exclusively. I just have trouble committing to someone at first.

That’s when I started looking for the sign on my back that said, “If you have commitment issues, come see me.”

W. T. F. 

Guy: But after a few dates, I get past that initial hump.

Instead of overanalyzing the word “hump,” I decided to be optimistic. And I’m glad he did because he’s a Southern Gentleman.

Then he swapped out the red flag for a carrot cupcake. Metaphorically.

Guy: I think couples know within a year if they want to spend the rest of their lives together.

A year? Seriously? Thank you for restoring my faith. Or that’s just what guys say when they want to get in your pants.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “It’s a sad state of affairs when carnival women have the same unsavory habits as Mike Tyson.”—El Guapola

I Do Whatever the Chocolate Tells Me

Tuesday and Wednesday work was hot. And when I got home after work…my apartment’s AC was broken. Of course. Welcome to my life.

The heat sent me into an extreme sloth-like state. Because it was too hot to make my own decisions, I decided to put the responsibility on someone else.

Remember when the Dove chocolate gave me a sign? Well…I’ve decided to let chocolate dictate my life.

That’s right: a dessert dictator. It was that or the Magic 8 Ball.

I’m saving all the wrappers from my Dove chocolate, and I’m doing what the chocolate tells me to do.

This is the first wrapper:

Do what feels right. Obviously, it felt right to eat the lower left corner of the wrapper.

What feels right is…to have another piece of chocolate.

The next wrapper said:

Indulge your every whim.

This confirmed that the second piece was ok.

I think I’m going to like this challenge.

Have a great weekend! I’ll be in Pittsburgh, so let me know what to check out while I’m there.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Be careful, Thoughtsy. One minute you’re posting a pic of your hot, sweaty thighs, the next you’re addicted to sexting. Slippery slope….”—BluzDude