May 26, 2013

50 Shades of Nanners

*Sorry, I kinda disappeared for a while, but I've been swamped with eating entire wheels of Brie and scream crying into my pillow. But I'm back, and couldn't be more ready to shame my entire family by writing inappropriate things on the world wide web.

Let's begin shall we?

If you know me, you know that I can often be found on the floor covered in wine and Tostitos, but another interesting and wildly shocking tidbit of information about me, is that I have little to zero game when it comes to the fine art of picking up men. WHAT?! THAT'S JUST SHOCKING. GUYS DON'T LIKE CREEPY WOMEN?! Shit.
Back in University, (where I left my dignity and my love for fitness), I discovered that I could land any guy in the bar that I wanted, by luring them in with my "bedroom eyes." Wait, let me  explain:

Bedroom Eyes:  When a white girl with little to no class, pounds back 8 Mike's Hard Lemonade and hits the bar scene with an abnormal sense of confidence, only to be found in the corner, doing a creepy head tilt and some weird shit with her eyes...AND somehow convinces a guy equally as drunk as her, that taking her to bed, is the best idea he's ever had. Ever. In the history of ideas.

Now, as I enter into spinsterhood, with one good leg, chin hair, and a bad attitude, I've discovered that my "bedroom eyes" no longer work in the fine art of seduction... At least not for me anyway. A few weeks ago at the bar, I had the unfortunate pleasure of catching my reflection during a "bedroom eyes stare down" and I immediately called myself a cab. I had to. Either I left, or the guy I was trying to seduce with my gaze, was gonna call an ambulance or quite possibly the police. To better describe my attempt at bedroom eyes, I'd like to refer you to the blockbuster hit, The Exorcism of Emily Rose. How my face could look like a demonic force was exiting my body AND I was having a seizure at the same time, was beyond me. Since words can't quite paint this picture, below is an eerily exact picture of what my bedroom eyes look like. Attractive.



Since this little episode in the bar, I've been trying to think of new ways to seduce men, and a colleague of mine recommended that I read 50 Shades of Grey, and I was all like, "50 Shades of fuck that." I can't bring myself to read erotic novels. I just can't. I have this irrational fear, that I will develop some creepy, closeted obsession with reading/watching porn and I'd like to salvage any purity I have left. HAHAHAHAAHA. Purity. That was funny.

But seriously though, my addictive personality has led me down many-a-dark road, and I fear that erotic literature is a gateway drug to even more messed up obsessions...such as having sex WITH your car, like this peach below: 



I just shuddered.


Well, you know what I always say, if you can't beat'em you're a horrible disgrace to your family, join'em. So instead of reading 50 shades of shit, I decided to write my very own erotic literature book. Now I can't share with you the entire book, but I can certainly share some excerpts to get your juices flowing. I should add, that it's loosely based on this whore I know named Conchita, and the other parts are what life is really like. I've titled this NY Times Best Seller: Conchita's Gettin Laid.

"Conchita takes off her turtleneck and stands in front of the mirror. Conchita notices that one breast is noticeably bigger than the other.  She stares at herself in astonishment. "When the fuck did this happen?" There is no way I'm knockin' boots with Pablo tonight, he can't see my lop sided tits."
Conchita then frantically slips back into her flanel pajamas and walks timidly into the bedroom where Pablo awaits her pantless. 
"Pablo I have my period."

"Pablo pulls conchita closer, Conchita shits her pants with nervousness that Pablo will taste the Cool Ranch Doritos, and Bacardi Breezer she just secretly crushed in her bathroom. He softly touches her face, gazes in her eyes. Her heart races, her cooter pulsates.
"Conchita, did you just eat Cool Ranch Doritos?"

"Shit bitch, you is fine."

"The cool breeze from the salty beach air, made Conchita's leg hair curl." 

"It was a dark and stormy night. The air was thick and so was Conchita's waistline"

"Pablo scrapes Conchita off the floor and flings her onto her bed to ravage her...The bed collapses, Conchita breaks her collar bone. He calls 911."

"Conchita found out that Pablo eats spiders for fun."

I know what you're thinking....'Can I pre-order this?' No. Not just yet. I have a few more chapters to finish on Conchita's trip to rehab and her obsession with the movie Seabiscuit...oh and I can't forget her third nipple scare. 

Well, I've spewed out enough nonsense for one day, I need to work on my jazzercise video for Youtube. 

Also don't forget to check out my latest post on Red Lips Long Lashes! I wrote what life was like for me after graduation...yikes. www.redlipslonglashes.com/perspective/so-youve-graduated-now-what Another thing, if you find me mildly amusing AND you like watching the Bachelor and Bachelorette, you can join me each week on Red Lips for my recaps. 

Peace out, 
Nanners 





May 7, 2013

1 900-Hangover

Ugh. I loathe being hungover. Wait. Sorry. That's one of the stupidest things I've ever said. What sadistic son of a bitch likes being hungover? Maybe Ted Bundy? Maybe.
I spent a good portion of last Sunday drinking chocolate milk and trying to figure out how to "Dexter" myself to a table. But as it turns out, saran wrap was created by Satan, and it significantly raises my blood pressure, so I said screw THAT. (If you don't watch Dexter then there is a good chance we're not soul mates, but here's the Coles Notes version: Dexter saran wraps people to tables. Hmmm this sounds a lot like a night I had in a frat house in 2003.
Truthfully, I'm pretty sure saran wrap is the reason I started swearing in grade 4. I vividly remember opening up my New Kids On The Block lunch pail, only to find my cookies, carrots, and my triangle sandwiches, wrapped in that demonic plastic-like film.

"WHAT THE FUCK MOM?! I DON'T WORK FOR NASA. I CAN'T OPEN THIS. DANG, WOMAN." 

And that's when my therapist tells me the struggle began....

My struggle with my consistent Sunday hangover, has inspired me to share some words of wisdom on how to behave accordingly during a hangover.

1. DON'T watch Steel Magnolias, Step-Mom, The Notebook or LaBamba: A dying daughter, a dying mother, a long lost lover, and a dead Latin rock star, are all equal to experiencing an apocalypse right from your very own couch...and your heart... especially with booze in your veins.
I mean c'mon. If the scene below isn't making you weepy then please leave.

I can often be found re-enacting this scene at dinner parties, cottage weekends, office functions and bat mitzvahs. I'm definitely someone worth getting to know. 


2. Say a little prayer before you check your sent messages in the morning:  If you're anything like me, your fingers take on a life of their own by at least drink number 3. The whole world is filled with flowers and we're surrounded by world peace and cute Asian babies. This was me on Friday. *I can't show you the messages that I sent at drink 6, as they will be traveling with me and my dignity to the section in heaven labelled "Whores." 


While we're on the topic of drunk texting, I'm patiently waiting for the day that iPhone announces they are installing breathalyzers for their new iPhone 47.  I'm also waiting for the day that Ashton Kutcher shows up to tell me that I'm being Punk'd, and I didn't really send all those slutty/creepy messages last night-It was my bestie Leonardo DiCaprio just punking me! Silly goose! Then we laugh about it, get married on a yacht at sunset, and save the Congo one animal at a time.

Oh wait, there is also this kind of incomprehensible text that I can often be found cringing at.

"MelaNnnie, whaT r u deing tonight$"
"Huh?"
"Iwant a unIcoorn. Don'T u?!!!!!!!1 Imaaaagine?"
"Where are you?"

That actually hurt my heart to type that out, because it's the honest to God truth. I also don't have evidence of these types of texts as these are the first ones to be deleted.

3. What you think is funny while you're hungover is RARELY funny when you're sober. 
Ever sit around on a Sunday wishing your life wasn't yours, until you see the FUNNIEST DISH SOAP COMMERCIAL EVER? For me, everything is hilarious. when in reality, it's just a bunch of bitches standing around in mom-jeans, degrading one another for not being able to get the spots off their god damn dishes. IT'S NEVER FUNNY ON MONDAY. I promise you.

4. Switch up your pizza places: You know the old saying,"If I'm not waking up with pepperoni in my hair and an empty bank account, then it's time to get new friends."
Okay, so maybe that's my motto.
Eating pizza while nursing your hangover, is the next best thing to having Channing Tatum whispering "I love you" in your ear. Yes, I don't know what it actually feels like to have Channing Tatum tell me he loves me, but you can bet your ass when I'm alone in my apartment on a Saturday morning, my imagination and my pillow tells me I do. Okay, back to Pizza. No self respecting woman wants to be greeted by the pizza delivery guy like this, "Hello my friend!"  So i urge you, in your sober state, to pull some re-con on some local pizzerias. Wait, who eats pizza sober?

5. On hangover day, don't answer your phone for at least 3 hours after you wake up: 
Here's why: Say your night is a little foggy or you're suffering from a severe case of ihopenooneremembersthat-itis, there is a good chance that your asshole friends are just WAITING for the clock to strike an appropriate hour to call you and remind you, that not only did you leave your wallet at their house, but your dignity went with it as well. There are 3 ways the post-drink recap conversations can start when you pick up the phone:

Scenario 1:
Me: (Hesitant)  "Hello?"
Asshole Friend: (asshole giggle) "How are YOU feeling this morning?"

Scenario 2:
Me: (Rolls eyes) "Hello?"
Asshole Friend: "OMG. Do you remember when you..."

Scenario 3:
Me: (Clears throat to not sound hungover or sleepy) "Hello!?"
Asshole Friend: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. You sound like shit! Remember when you lost your...."

All in all there is not a good way to endure/embrace a hangover. I think if you're gonna take away anything valuable from this post, find a heavily wooded area and launch your phone into it.

Love,
Nanners.

AND.....Remember, you can also follow some more of my writing along with our fab group of contributors at: www.redlipslonglashes.com