“Swallow my doubt, turn it inside out…”

I had far too many feelings yesterday resulting from being social, so of course now that I have a free day to myself, as soon as I woke up they all came rushing back, and it was like a team of squirrels took over my brain and started playing emotional volleyball — “Sad about this!” *pass* “Insecure about that!” *pass* “Oh, hey, what about having kids, wanna rehash that one?” *pass*

Right. So I’ll be here all day with a slow drip of coffee martinis, watching comfort movies. I dare you to be sad when Justin Timberlake is serenading Mila Kunis with Kris Kross’s “Jump.” (Plus…dat ass.)

Or, hell, this seems like a pretty solid state of mind to finally go see
Inside Out and just embrace it all. (Obviously with a venti spiked Starbucks and a big fuck-off tray of theater nachos. That’s just being prepared; I learned that shit in Girl Scouts.)

Aaaand we’re done here.

The “gentlemanly” OKCupid guy made way too big a deal about the fact that I’m looking for “just friends” right now.

First off, jagoff, you saw my profile and started the conversation. You asked me about that part, so it’s not like you didn’t see it. And no, that does not mean “friends with benefits,” and fuck you for even asking during our FIRST conversation. You haven’t even met me — that photo I sent could be from 10 years and 100 lbs ago. (It’s not, I’m adorable, but that’s not the point.)

Second, don’t you know the Chris Rock bit? “You know what a [male] friend is to a woman? It’s like a dick in a glass case. ‘In case of emergency, break open glass.'”

I just need to make sure you’re not a moron, and then maybe, OK? I hate realizing guys are dumb after we get naked, it’s the worst! One time I found out a guy I’d hooked up with REALLY liked Larry the Cable Guy — like so much that he’d paid to see him in concert. I let someone see me naked who had also seen Larry the Cable Guy live. Never again, you guys. Never again.

If you’re smart and funny, know how to treat a lady, and are nice to restaurant servers, do you know how quickly I’ll let you bend me over furniture? (That’s the attitude of a “lady,” right? Don’t answer that…)

Whatever, dude, your loss. I almost pity the fool who’s under me when this tension gets released. You couldn’t handle it, anyway.

Do unto others, unless you’re an asshole.

I probably have no right to be pissed at a friend for ending the friendship by ignoring me when I’m doing the same to my “friend with benefits.”

Of course, I naively thought friendship was more meaningful than some sex you had and then grew bored with. But I should probably sack up and talk to my dalliance regardless. Thanks, Universe. Lessons learned.

Hump Daaayyyy, indeed

I’d been thinking about asking my friend Mike to be my friend with benefits.

But every time I think about saying his name during sex, I can’t help thinking of that Geico “hump day” commercial — “Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike!” (And also, ’cause…well, humping.)

I may never fuck anyone named Mike again. If we ever had sex on a Wednesday, I don’t know that I’d be able to stop myself from laughing, or at least panting, “Hump daaayyyyy” during my orgasm. It’d be really tough to keep me focused.