I snapped my neck and glared at him. He had to be kidding right? I mean I would have HAPPILY chowed down at the barbecue place with anyone else but I had been trying to compromise with his stupid standards! As I feel my blood starting to boil I tell him that I will be happy with anyplace he chooses. He decides to pick another restaurant on the complete other side of town. Great.
As we are driving I try to make pleasant conversation when he interrupts me to announce that he forgot his reading glasses, he then also announces he has to take a piss. Somehow both of these become my fault. I mention to him we are going to pass right by his neighborhood so why doesn’t he just pop into the house, use the restroom and grab his glasses. Oh noooo, that would be far too convenient, instead he asks me to look around the car for an empty cup for him to pee in. Are you fucking serious? Shockingly, I don’t happen to have a spare piss cup in my car for him to urinate in so we continue to drive ALL the way to the restaurant with him bitching and “adjusting” himself due to the apparent pressure on his bladder.
We get to the restaurant where he heads to the restroom and I make a beeline for the bar to grab something strong enough to get me through the rest of the evening while we wait for a table to open up. During the I am waiting for my drink, Bryce walks up and mentions to me that there is a high top available in the bar area with no wait. I begrudgingly agree. I say this because I am short, and wide. High chairs with narrow seats and I don’t mix but I agree before the level of agitation continues to rise, or so I think.
The waitress comes over, hands us our menus and gives us time to decide what to order. Bryce immediately starts to cuss under his breath and slams the menu down. For some reason, I ask what the matter is. “I can’t see a fucking thing in this dark ass restaurant with these tiny fucking letters on this menu, I’m just gonna have to order a fucking hamburger and that’s not what I really want…., blah, blah, blah” So I thought of a brilliant idea! When the waitress came over and asked us if we decided what we wanted to order, I said to her “do you happen to have a pair of reading glasses in lost and found, my date forgot his” This went over like a fucking lead balloon. Bryce was apparently quite insulted by this. I then explain to the waitress that he can't see shit on the menu and I wait patiently for the next 20 minutes while she basically describes every damn item on the menu to him.
He then orders an appetizer. At this point I don’t even remember what it was but what I do remember is that it was fried or fattening or both, so I take a nibble or two because I know if I eat more than a few morsels he’ll complain about me not eating healthy and if I don’t eat any at all he’ll bitch about that too. I start to think to myself, why am I doing this again?
Thankfully another drink arrives with dinner and I’m actually excited about my lettuce wraps with a spicy sriracha sauce. I pick one up to savor the deliciousness when Bryce snaps at me “What is that? That’s too many calories for you”
First of all, fuck you. Second of all I don’t care what it is, if I order something and the first word is “lettuce” there ain’t too many fucking calories in it, and last but not least, fuck you.
Shit just got real….
Check me out next week for the conclusion of Eat, Drink and Be Angry!
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Eat, Drink and be Angry - Part 1
I’m sorta a what you see is what you get girl. I’m a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) and have been for quite some time. Yes, I’m becoming more health conscience and making changes to my life but by no means am I going to wake up tomorrow and be thin unless I happen to run into a genie with a magic lamp. Someone should have mentioned this to “Bryce”.
Bryce and I had been dating off and on for awhile. Mostly when I was lonely, bored and tired of spending weekends alone. He was tolerable, got along with my friends and is employed. More than I can say for some of the others I’ve dated. We had been spending more and more time together and things were getting to the point of being serious. This concerned me because I knew if I stayed with him I was settling but I knew I could (and have) done worse for myself. I was stuck in a rut and not really sure what to do about it. Lucky for me that was about to change.
Bryce and I had decided to go to the beach for the weekend but, as a Florida resident you always know to check the weather before you go. It just so happened there was a tropical storm and I was not about to spend an entire weekend at the beach locked inside a house with Bryce so I cancelled and told him we would just get together on Friday and spend a nice quiet evening together. Which for me is actually a lot of work.
You see Bryce doesn’t like my hair curly or in a pony tail, so I need to flat iron it (even though it’s raining) and he doesn’t like when I don’t shower IMMEDIATELY before coming over even though I took a shower that morning, and he doesn’t like it when I don’t have on sexy panties, and…. the list goes on. Now I’m not normally the kind of gal that gives into a man’s every whim but for Bryce it’s less aggravating for me to just go with the flow than to hear him bitch. And so I conform…
I arrive at his house because he refuses to stay the night at my house and again it’s just easier for me to have an escape vehicle should the need arise, and trust me, it does. I get under the umbrella and run to his front door, careful not to let the rain ruin my perfectly straightened hair. I get to sit there while he finishes his cigarette and discuss where we are going for dinner. He suggests a local barbeque place which I love but I’d rather not go to knowing that whatever I order from there will elicit some smart fat remark. So I suggest we go over to a fairly close shopping area with tons of restaurants to choose from and off we go.
As we get closer I immediately know there’s going to be a problem. This place is popular under normal circumstances, throw in the rain and Friday night factors and this place is packed! I personally don’t have a problem with this. I’m the kind of person that will sit around, chat, grab a drink from the bar and patiently wait for a table. Bryce on the other hand does NOT like crowds OR waiting. So we circle. Drive thru the parking lot a few times; see if any of the restaurants have convenient parking and no lines waiting. Nothing. We then cross the street and repeat with the restaurants on that side, nothing. We then go back to where we first started and circle again. Still nothing. At this point Bryce looks at me and snaps “Why do can't you just compromise!”
This is not going to end well…..
Bryce and I had been dating off and on for awhile. Mostly when I was lonely, bored and tired of spending weekends alone. He was tolerable, got along with my friends and is employed. More than I can say for some of the others I’ve dated. We had been spending more and more time together and things were getting to the point of being serious. This concerned me because I knew if I stayed with him I was settling but I knew I could (and have) done worse for myself. I was stuck in a rut and not really sure what to do about it. Lucky for me that was about to change.
Bryce and I had decided to go to the beach for the weekend but, as a Florida resident you always know to check the weather before you go. It just so happened there was a tropical storm and I was not about to spend an entire weekend at the beach locked inside a house with Bryce so I cancelled and told him we would just get together on Friday and spend a nice quiet evening together. Which for me is actually a lot of work.
You see Bryce doesn’t like my hair curly or in a pony tail, so I need to flat iron it (even though it’s raining) and he doesn’t like when I don’t shower IMMEDIATELY before coming over even though I took a shower that morning, and he doesn’t like it when I don’t have on sexy panties, and…. the list goes on. Now I’m not normally the kind of gal that gives into a man’s every whim but for Bryce it’s less aggravating for me to just go with the flow than to hear him bitch. And so I conform…
I arrive at his house because he refuses to stay the night at my house and again it’s just easier for me to have an escape vehicle should the need arise, and trust me, it does. I get under the umbrella and run to his front door, careful not to let the rain ruin my perfectly straightened hair. I get to sit there while he finishes his cigarette and discuss where we are going for dinner. He suggests a local barbeque place which I love but I’d rather not go to knowing that whatever I order from there will elicit some smart fat remark. So I suggest we go over to a fairly close shopping area with tons of restaurants to choose from and off we go.
As we get closer I immediately know there’s going to be a problem. This place is popular under normal circumstances, throw in the rain and Friday night factors and this place is packed! I personally don’t have a problem with this. I’m the kind of person that will sit around, chat, grab a drink from the bar and patiently wait for a table. Bryce on the other hand does NOT like crowds OR waiting. So we circle. Drive thru the parking lot a few times; see if any of the restaurants have convenient parking and no lines waiting. Nothing. We then cross the street and repeat with the restaurants on that side, nothing. We then go back to where we first started and circle again. Still nothing. At this point Bryce looks at me and snaps “Why do can't you just compromise!”
This is not going to end well…..
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Sweet Revenge
I hate my birthday. I have for quite awhile now. I guess when you get old enough that people stop making you birthday cakes, planning parties for you and singing “Happy Birthday” it’s bound to happen, and well, my birthday 2012 certainly didn’t change my mind. In fact, it helped add to my theory that my birthday is cursed. Let me explain through what I can remember and what has been told to me about that day…
I decided that the best way to change the course of the birthday curse was to take a “me” day. Got a massage, hair cut, colored and straightened so I would look and feel like a million bucks. Made arrangements with my friend to go on a double date that evening to a movie that I was dying to see and out to a local hotspot afterwards for some drinks and dancing. What could possibly go wrong?
Well for starters after spending a good amount of time getting gussied up, it decides to drizzle. Rain and Florida humidity are Kryptonite to straight hair and now I’m just praying that by the end of the night I don’t look like the lost sixth member of the Jackson 5. Thankfully I duck into the movie with minimal rain contact. Got my popcorn, soda and settle in….. don’t ya know it the movie SUCKS! Two hours wasted but at least there’s the club to look forward to.
My date pays the cover, we go inside…. There’s like seven people there. OK, so it’s not the most happening spot but at least I’ll be able to have a drink. Do you have Crown? No. Do you have Bacardi Dark? No. Ok, then how about just a Bud Light? Nope. Come ON! What kind of bar doesn’t even have Bud Light? We decide to bail. We head to a local spot where they have a band and Bud Light available if I so choose. As I walk in I see this poster advertising Sweet Revenge. It’s pink and I think the name is just too perfect to turn down. I order a couple of shots for my friend and I, and another and then another. 3 shots on my birthday is not a bad way to go, besides, I’m a big girl, I can hold my liquor, I’m certainly not new to the drinking scene.
Well it doesn’t take very long before the room starts spinning. At this point apparently I’ve pissed off my date and he’s left and I decide to go after him. My very sweet DD loads me into the car where apparently I make a phone call professing my undying love for my date and decide to make things right. I somehow get loaded into my date’s truck, get to his house where he gentlemanly opens the door for me to get out only to watch hit the pavement.
That’s enough. The Sweet Revenge lives true to its word and I begin to puke, everywhere, only to be yelled at by my date that I’m getting it all over his driveway and that I need to “move it to the grass.” The last thing I remember is crawling on my hands and knees to a bush as to not soil his precious driveway. (Believe it or not this won’t be the last you hear about this guy.)
The next morning, as I wake up feeling like my head is being beaten in by a two by four I desperately search for my purse and phone. My purse is luckily on the night stand next to me but my phone, that’s another thing. After searching for quite some time and even heading back to my friend’s house I discover that my phone is gone. SHIT! My whole life is in that phone! I decide to take just one last look. Sure enough, I find the phone. Under the bush, covered in puke… Thank GOD for my Otter Box. I peel my protective cover off and head home glad another birthday is over and done with, or so I think.
Except…. a few weeks later I get a pretty envelope in the mail. Red. Apparently somewhere in my adventures for the day I ran a red light and here is the picture and $178 ticket to prove it. I promise you for my 2013 birthday, I’m not even leaving the fucking house….
I decided that the best way to change the course of the birthday curse was to take a “me” day. Got a massage, hair cut, colored and straightened so I would look and feel like a million bucks. Made arrangements with my friend to go on a double date that evening to a movie that I was dying to see and out to a local hotspot afterwards for some drinks and dancing. What could possibly go wrong?
Well for starters after spending a good amount of time getting gussied up, it decides to drizzle. Rain and Florida humidity are Kryptonite to straight hair and now I’m just praying that by the end of the night I don’t look like the lost sixth member of the Jackson 5. Thankfully I duck into the movie with minimal rain contact. Got my popcorn, soda and settle in….. don’t ya know it the movie SUCKS! Two hours wasted but at least there’s the club to look forward to.
My date pays the cover, we go inside…. There’s like seven people there. OK, so it’s not the most happening spot but at least I’ll be able to have a drink. Do you have Crown? No. Do you have Bacardi Dark? No. Ok, then how about just a Bud Light? Nope. Come ON! What kind of bar doesn’t even have Bud Light? We decide to bail. We head to a local spot where they have a band and Bud Light available if I so choose. As I walk in I see this poster advertising Sweet Revenge. It’s pink and I think the name is just too perfect to turn down. I order a couple of shots for my friend and I, and another and then another. 3 shots on my birthday is not a bad way to go, besides, I’m a big girl, I can hold my liquor, I’m certainly not new to the drinking scene.
Well it doesn’t take very long before the room starts spinning. At this point apparently I’ve pissed off my date and he’s left and I decide to go after him. My very sweet DD loads me into the car where apparently I make a phone call professing my undying love for my date and decide to make things right. I somehow get loaded into my date’s truck, get to his house where he gentlemanly opens the door for me to get out only to watch hit the pavement.
That’s enough. The Sweet Revenge lives true to its word and I begin to puke, everywhere, only to be yelled at by my date that I’m getting it all over his driveway and that I need to “move it to the grass.” The last thing I remember is crawling on my hands and knees to a bush as to not soil his precious driveway. (Believe it or not this won’t be the last you hear about this guy.)
The next morning, as I wake up feeling like my head is being beaten in by a two by four I desperately search for my purse and phone. My purse is luckily on the night stand next to me but my phone, that’s another thing. After searching for quite some time and even heading back to my friend’s house I discover that my phone is gone. SHIT! My whole life is in that phone! I decide to take just one last look. Sure enough, I find the phone. Under the bush, covered in puke… Thank GOD for my Otter Box. I peel my protective cover off and head home glad another birthday is over and done with, or so I think.
Except…. a few weeks later I get a pretty envelope in the mail. Red. Apparently somewhere in my adventures for the day I ran a red light and here is the picture and $178 ticket to prove it. I promise you for my 2013 birthday, I’m not even leaving the fucking house….
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