Sunday, October 29, 2006

ThePeach Survives Another Weekend; Makes Friends with TheDude and The Treadmill

Weekend #2 of heartache was another interesting one. I will be happy when I no longer feel like shit 24/7, but who the fuck knows when that will happen. In the mean time, I have cookie dough, playgirl, and a new mp3 player with a list of chick-tastic songs to get me through.

Friday:

You know the elaborate plans we had to smoke pot and do karaoke? The plans were seriously flawed, and no one saw it coming. I went over to TheHippie and TheHubby’s house, and we all eagerly smoked what we thought was a little bit of the pot. Then we smoked a little more. Then TheHubby thought he was dying and I started contemplating (aloud, of course) how elaborately humans try to cover up their natural states: we deodorize, we soap, we wash, we perfume, we use elaborate air fresheners: all to cover up the fact that humans smell. Humans smell. We smell because we are animals; we should be giving birth in fields and OH GOD WE’RE TOO HIGH TO LEAVE THE HOUSE.

Ya…we forgot that one of us was supposed to stay sober until we got to the restaurant to make sure that we actually left the house and could function in public. But, between TheHubby being convinced that he was having multiple heart attacks, TheHippie screaming in laughter and rolling around on the futon, and me trying to force us all to go in the backyard and roll around naked in the grass like THE ANIMALS WE ARE – we were fucked. So, our night of karaoke and sushi turned into watching “Hocus Pocus” on YTV and making KD and Grilled Cheese. It was still beautiful, just a different kind of beautiful from what we had been hoping.

At the end of the night I took a cab home and sat dully in front of my computer being a sad wreck. I talked to WeeOne and TigerCat on msn, and they patiently let me e-cry and eventually convinced me to go to bed. I slept like a baby. A baby whose parents drug him with high doses of gravol to stop his crying, but still.

Saturday:

Woke up hungover, and performed my usual retarded pot-hangover routine: went to the gym. I have never sweat so much in my life. I seriously don’t know why I do this to myself every time, but my body HATES ME. And usually I at least wait until I’ve been awake for a few hours before I go attack the treadmill, but this time I wanted to get to the gym early to get there and be gone before FauxHawk might decide to go. Pathetic: Yes.

After that fiasco I spent my afternoon downloading music and reading Playgirl. I realized that Playgirl is in no way hot. If I wanted to see a dude with a shaved scrote lovingly hold his own shaft and stare seductively off into space, I’d enter TheBoss’ office without knocking a lot more. But, as it stands, I don’t want to see that. I’m not throwing the magazine out or anything, though…a girl needs cock in her life one way or another.

Next up: pretend to be fine and go out for Halloween. I, of course, was not fine. I had made plans with FauxHawk and his friends a long time ago to celebrate Halloween at a huge party with them. It is literally the party of the year, every year. The only party I would be attending this year was a pity party: RSVP list: me. Luckily TheHippie’s boyfriend was having people over and I got good and wrecked and then we went to a slutty dance bar. I continued to get loaded. The place was fucking packed full of undergrads in slutty costumes which were all variations of the same key pieces: a corset, a garder, and thigh-highs. Throw a different hat on each whore and you have a room full of “creative” costumes:

“I’m a sexy nurse! I’m a sexy cowgirl! I’m a sexy cop! I’m a sexy golf-pro!”

I went out as a sexy GO TO HELL.

And yet…I picked up a dude. He smiled at me, I smiled at him. He shimmied his way over to me on the dance floor and made small-talk. TheHippie and her boyfriend approved of TheDude and told me to bang him:

TheHippie: He’s hot!!!
Boyfriend: Take him home!!!!
ThePeach: I don’t wanna. I wanna go home and cry myself to sleep again.
TheHippie/Boyfriend: *slap*…*slap*
ThePeach: Well…get me drunker and then we’ll see.
TheDude: Um...you do realize that I'm standing right here?

I did get drunker, but that only made me sadder. I am sorry to say that I left TheDude on the dance floor and walked home alone, where I did indeed cry myself to sleep. I’m sorry – I know how badly you want my blog to turn into The Trampage Diaries!! I want it just as much as you – probably more, since I’ll be the one getting laid. I was furious when I got home. Furious that FauxHawk dumped me, furious that I love him, furious that I couldn’t bone TheDude because I love FauxHawk, furious that FauxHawk is probably boning chicks already and all I have is a fucking Playgirl!!! Oh man, I certainly cried the ugly cry that night in bed.

Sunday:

Sleep brings clarity. I woke up feeling much better. I checked my facebook account (ya…I’m one of *those* now…fuck off) and found a message from TheDude. He somehow found me and wasn’t pissed that I left him in the slutty dance bar. He asked if I would go out for a drink with him this week.

I said yes. *insert choir of angels*

Maybe I still love FauxHawk. Maybe I’m a fucking mess. But I’ve also been asked out by 2 different people in the 10 days since I got dumped without any effort on my part. I am a great fucking catch, and some people actually appreciate that. FauxHawk does not appreciate that and never did and thus can kiss my sweet ass. And even if TheDude turns out to be a loser and I have to sneak out of the bar while he’s in the bathroom, I am still trying to move on balls-out. The heart will follow the balls – or something like that.

The best way to get over a guy is to get under another. So here’s hoping I don’t catch syphilis.

After I responded to TheDude’s message I went to the gym and had an amazing run. I had my chick-tastic tunes blaring and I took out my fury on the treadmill. And hopefully on my ass.

Now I am heading over to TheHippie/TheHubby’s to rent “Stick it” (yep…the gymnastic movie for pre-teens…it seems like an amazing idea to me) with them and Cleavage. I’ll probably come home and cry myself to sleep afterwards, but fuck it. I’m a mess for sure – but I’m a hot mess.

And guys dig vulnerable chicks because we're easy.

ThePeach

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

http://drewjitsu.blogspot.com/2006/10/halloween.html

Good luck with El Duke.

The Nurse said...

Who is this dude and why didn't I have an immediate email about him?? I'm on the other side of the world I need to know these things!!! I miss you!!

weeone said...

Im right there with the nurse.... though i totally understand... we live away from universitytown.. we aren't special anymore...

msg continues in your facebook inbox.

miss you :)

Anders said...
This comment has been removed by the author.