Me No Share Cookies…or Cupcakes…or Anything

When I first started dating the Cupcake Dangler, I had to come out of the blog-closet to him:

CD: How long have you been blogging for?

Thoughtsy: About 3 years.

CD: Wow! So I have a lot of reading to do.

Thoughtsy: Awww…. That’s so cute that you want to read it. But you can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

To soften the blow, I offered to let CD pick his name. That was a mistake.

CD: I’ve always liked the name “David.”

Thoughtsy: That’s…so…boring. (Author’s Note: No offense to people named “David.”)

CD: How about Lance?

Thoughtsy: Isn’t that a Backstreet Boy? I mean, NSync. You’re not allowed to pick your blog name anymore. You can’t be trusted.

How could I be with a guy who possibly secretly liked boy bands?

Then…he bought me this cupcake. (Translation: I snuck it into his grocery cart, and he pretended not to notice.)

A cookie and a cupcake!

Two desserts. In one dessert! I thought the tables had turned in his favor.

Then he suggested we split it. Split. It.

Which is pretty much the same thing as…

1. Calling me “fat.”
2. Questioning my dessert-eating ability.
3. Taking food right out of my mouth.

That’s when I first realized I made a horrible mistake. It was the beginning of the end for him.

Freshly Pegged: Wolves Are the New Lap Dogs

Haaaaaave you met Peg? I blog crush on her and her Reese’s Cups. (No, that’s not an euphemism.)

Have you heard about Peg’s series Freshly Pegged? That’s where I am today. Because you know who deserves to be Freshly Pegged?

Someone who laughs in the face of danger.

Someone who walks straight into a wolf’s den and says, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Someone who loves all things furry.

Me.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I once went on a date with a guy that I’m sure had his mother in his freezer at home. He spoke to me with his head tilted to the left and didn’t move his lips when he spoke. During the date I texted my BFF, ‘I know that he wants to wear my boobs for a hat, I do not want to be material for nipple beanies!’ I toughed out the comedy show and made a quick getaway. Thankfully he didn’t know where I live. Dating sucks.”—TrippyBeth

Blogs Are My Psychiatrists

When I get upset, I have trouble doing anything except fuming and then tearing up. I’m constantly telling my 5 31-year-old self, “Use your words, Thoughtsy.”

But you know what’s even better than using my words to describe how I’m feeling? Using your words.

I Like Boys Who Wear Glasses: Do you really mourn the person you lost? Or do you mourn losing the person you thought he/she was? When you look at it critically… Isn’t what you really lost your dreams, your hopes, your wishes for the future?

I left Kiefer because I lost hope. And I’d reached a point where I needed more than hope.

Simply Solo: But you ARE the one for some man out there, and the more time you waste with the guy who’s not sure, not ready to take the plunge, the more time you will spend in silent heartache. You are not an impatient woman for wanting to be married.

I want to get married. And the guy who doesn’t want to marry me? He isn’t the right guy for me.

Jules’s Guest Post: It’s not supposed to be hard. When it’s right, it’s easy.

Most of Kiefer and I’s relationship was easy, and I think that’s why it lasted so long. We hardly ever argued or had any conflict. And when we did, it was always about his commitment issues.

Cocktails at Tiffany’s Interview with Just Married Girl: “The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them.”—Maya Angelou

Izzie Darling: “If you see a red flag, don’t try to make it magenta. What you see is the way it is. Believe it and act accordingly.”—Magnolia Miller

Favorite Comment From the Last Post: “…If you run into that lady again, as soon as she leaves do that ‘crazy person’ thing where you whirl your finger around your ear and then point at her. No explanation necessary.”—So I Went Undercover

This Is Not the Post You’re Looking For

After visiting my little brother in LA, I’m flying to the East Coast, and approximately 14 hours later, I’m headed back to the West Coast for work.

Which means…my blog will suffer, but I’ve predrafted this search terms post for you to read.

You’re welcome.

The following search terms brought the boys to the yard people to my blog:

• Cat Playing in Toilet. Yep. Got that.
• My Butt in See-Through Panties. Ain’t got that.
• How to Fluff Your Lovesac. Got that.
• Pop-Tart Addicts. I can stop any time I want!
• White Chocolate Pop-Tarts. WHERE?! I mean…that sounds racist.
• End of World Butt. Uhhhh…no. You should probably go see a doctor.
• What Is a Pennis? Probably the same thing as a Pianist.

Have a great week!

What’s the funniest search term that’s brought someone to your blog?

SPAM and the Russian Mafia

An oldie but a goodie….

I just saw the best Spam comment ever. I wanted to approve it (because it was hilarious), but I didn’t want anyone to accidently click on it and get a virus or something nasty.

But here’s the text, minus the links, and plus my inner monologue.

HELP! I’m currently being held prisoner by the Russian mafia.

Dude, that stinks.

And being forced to post SPAM comments on blogs!

I can’t believe they gave you access to the internet. The Russian Mafia is following my blog? Neat.

(link to Penis Enlargement)

Who knew the mafia had stock in enlargement? Is the Russian Mafia experimenting on you? Sounds like they’re treating you pretty well. Dude, you’re living the dream.

If you don’t approve this, they will kill me. (another link to Penis Enlargement)

Kill you…or enlarge your penis?

They’re coming back now.

Really? ::looking over my shoulder:: I don’t see them. Oh! They’re where you are. Maybe instead of typing that, you should have used that time to formulate an escape or attack or something.

Please send help!

Where? Russia is a pretty big place. And if those enlargement experiments work, you’ll be a god among men. Maybe stick it out a little longer.

After a good chuckle, I started to think…what if it was real? What if I contributed to a man’s death? I stood by idly and did nothing.

Oops.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I often snorkel in my bathtub too. Maybe one day we will swim into each other.”—Brittany