Back in the Motherland Pt. 7: Black Out Make Out

*** I understand that this a bit out of order. Take in mind I was thrown for a loop which required immediate blogging. This is the last entry in the series of my back home adventures.

In order to truly appreciate this story, I'm going to break down what I had to drink over the entire course of the night:

4 mimosas for lunch
3 shots of Black Velvet whiskey
4 shots of vodka
2 Pabst Blue Ribbons
1 vodka redbull
1 Irish Carbomb

Mix this in the body of a 5'3", half asian male and you've got some serious trouble in River City.
(Drunk. That's a capital "D" which rhymes with "T" that stands for trouble)



Which brings us to the same bar from the other night. After finishing an amazing karaoke set, I wiped my the sweat from my brow. This is my last known memory. Now imagine a drunken montage...

Flash! I'm blatantly (and shamelessly) making out with the Nurse on the dance floor

Flash! I look over her shoulder and see a row of my friends across the bar all with shit-eating grins and huge thumbs up. Some are pounding beers. Some are giving each other hugs. Some have somehow managed to acquire party hats and bangers.

Flash! I'm taking a shot with my little brother

Flash! I'm blatantly making out with the Nurse at some different part of the bar

Flash! I'm getting pulled out of the bar by my hand the Nurse and into the streets

Flash! We're at some bar with another couple. She's feeding me humus on a piece of pita bread. We kiss again.

Flash! We're in a cab. And guess what? We're making out.

***

I wake up. I'm breathing hard. I'm going to puke if I think of alcohol. Where am I? I'm on a couch. It's my friends'. That's good. That's good. I blink a couple of times to adjust to the 6:30 am light. Nurse is on the other end of the couch. She's wearing a ski jacket. I look down, I'm wearing my clothes. Whew! Guess that's what happens when you're wearing the away team jersey without home court advantage.

Trying to piece everything together, my face turns a bright crimson. Did I just fucking make out in the middle of a public place? I was that guy. I was THAT guy! AUGH! And she was feeding me!? Holy fuck beans, what is wrong with me?

How did I even get from Point A to Point B? I don't even remember talking to her. What could I have possibly said that lead me to this scenario?? Was I suave? Was I smooth? Did she kiss me first? Did I kiss her? I have absolutely NO idea.

I tiptoe to find my cousin Mimi and we hit the road. After all, I have Thanksgiving feast in a couple of hours.

A Response to "She Calls."

I had a feeling that yesterday's post would stir up a bit of controversy. And instead of tackling each response individually, I thought I'd make it a separate entry.

The overall consensus seems to be raised eyebrows and genuine concern.

It's difficult to really describe my thought process accurately and effectively. Afterall, I'm still in a bit of a shock from the whole thing.

But I can honestly assure you that I'm not thinking, "Oh great! This is the first steps of getting back together!" or anything of that sort. I'm most certainly not "hung up". And I'd put all my money on the fact that she's not thinking that either.

My routine hasn't changed and I don't see it changing anytime soon. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find myself thinking about her a little more often since Monday evening, but I think that's normal under the circumstances. So for now, I'm completely fine.

I really am just happy that I was able to talk to my friend.

Jack: I'm vicariously overwhelmed for you. I think it's good.
So@24: Everyone's not as optimistic as me though.
Jack: Dude, I feel you. It's like scratching an itch. We are what we are.
So@24: Everyone's not as optimistic as me though.
Jack: Hey, I say as long as you're calling it what it was, a check-in, and not reading way too much between the lines, you are in solidly healthy territory.
So@24: Which is exactly what it is. Two friends catching up, laughing about old jokes, etc.
Jack: But it's still exciting. Really honest to God, I got all nervous/giddy for you.

She Calls.

I throw my backpack on my bed like I always do when I get home from a long day at the rat races. I have no clean clothes from my return back home, so I set our quarters for laundry. I'm getting tired of my Best of America cd, so I make a play list and prepare to burn it.

Toss some bread in the toaster, crack open a Progresso's Chicken Gumbo and plop myself in front of the boob tube to watch Jeopardy. I draw a crude scoreboard to keep track and taunt Leo about my amazing knowledge of the natural world and how he is, "going down."

Suddenly, my phone vibrates. A number I don't recognize.

So@24: Hello?
Mystery Call: Hi.
...
...
So@24: Uh. Hi.
Mystery Call: -nervous chuckle- Hi.


My eyes bulge and I look over to Leo panicked. "What!? What!? Who is it!?" he mouths to me. No time, I b-line it to the front door.

I haven't heard from her in almost a year and at 6:52 pm PST, she calls me out of the blue.

We both admitted that we were nervous and our hands were clammy. But we calmed down after a few minutes and fell right back into place. The obvious question that people keep asking me is, "why now?" but I didn't question her on why. I guess I was too excited just to talk to her.

We caught each other up on what we've been doing the past year. Jobs, what our friends were doing, plans for the new year, etc. And after exactly 3 hours and 29 mins, her phone battery started to tell her it was time to get off.

Lynn: I hope you don't get the wrong impression about this phone call, I don't want to set you back or anything...
So@24: No no no! Absolutely not. Trust me.
Lynn: Well, you have my number now. But no drunk dials! -laughs-
So@24: I think I'm past that stage. Don't worry, I'm not going to barrage you with calls or anything. Just call me when you feel like it.
Lynn: Okay.
So@24: Alright, bye.
Lynn: Bye.

I went back inside and tried to recap for a very stunned Leo. I popped a couple sleep aids (who could fall asleep after that kind of high?) and went to bed.

I never got a chance to answer Final Jeopardy. My mix never got made. My clothes are still in a crumpled mass next to the washer.

I'm at work in the same clothes I wore yesterday. And I'm cool. I'm calm. I'm collected.

Back in the Motherland Pt. 6: Day with the Ex's Mom

I'll admit I was a little nervous while waiting for her to pick me up for the movie. I'll even admit that I was more conscious about what I looked like (what if she talked about me to Lynn? What if Lynn asks how I looked?), not going out of the way to do anything extreme, but I did choose to wear a sweater that I've gotten a lot of compliments on.

I chewed on my nails and wandered around the house until she came to the door. I wasn't quite sure what to expect or why I was so nervous. I opened the door and I couldn't stop the huge grin on my face. She stepped in the house, asking to pet the cats. I slipped on my shoes and as we started so leave, she picked up a framed picture in the computer room smiled. It was an old prom picture of Lynn and me (I'm not sure why my mom still has that out).

"This is such a good picture of you two." Set it down and then we headed out the door. She asked if I wanted to drive and tossed me the keys to her car.

Opening the door, I was knocked back by the smell. I haven't smelled "Lynn's smell" in such a long time, it was really bizarre.

Andy wanted to catch the matinée of "No Country for Old Men" which was only showing in one theater in downtown Portland. It was also a little weird to be walking in that theater again, which was one that I used to only frequent with Lynn. I guess that associated hasn't quite faded yet.

After the movie, we had some time to kill before I had to meet up with my friends so we wandered around Portland getting lost on purpose. We spent most of the time looking through windows at shops and pointing out and laughing at weird, little figurines and bizarre toys. I really had to hold myself back to keep from asking about her daughter.

We grabbed a slice of pizza (oddly enough, at one of Lynn's favorite places... like mother like daughter, I guess) and then she dropped me off to meet with my friends.

We hugged again and she told me to keep in touch.

Back in the Motherland Pt. 5: Thanksgiving Line of Questioning

This conversation is very similar to something that happened to me long ago. Families are awkward: everyone knows that. But knocking up the awkwardness to a new level is getting grilled by relatives that you barely know.

Take my grandma's older sister for example. I'm not quite sure what her title is to me, but all you need to know is that I don't know her very well. I'll see her at random Christmases and Thanksgivings, share a hug and then quickly get back to nursing my mimosa before she can strike up a conversation with me. She's getting up in the years now, so her memory isn't quite what it used to be.

It's Thanksgiving. We're at a house and while some members of the family are bustling in the kitchen a few of us are gathered in the living room visiting.

I'm on the couch with my brother and his girlfriend. My grandma's older sister begins to ask them the usual line of questions: how long they've been together, how they met, blah blah blah.

I know exactly where this is going and I shift uncomfortable in the couch cushions. My beer is almost gone. Shit. I don't have time to get a new one before...

Grandma's Older Sister: Well what about you, So@24? Didn't you have a girlfriend? I remember you had a girlfriend last time I saw you. Yes, you did.
So@24: -awkwardly scratches back of head- Uh, yes I did. We're not together anymore.
Grandma's Older Sister: She was so cute, I remember! She had that gorgeous hair. Brunette right?
So@24: -starts to fumble/peel off label on bottle- Yep. She's a brunette.
Grandma's Older Sister: That's really too bad. How could she break up with you? You're such a nice boy.
So@24: -nervous chuckle- I... uh... yeah.
Grandma's Older Sister: Well I guess the question is, when are you going to get married?
So@24: -adjusts collar of festive sweater- I'll probably need to get a girlfriend first before I start going down that route.
Grandma's Older Sister: There's someone right out there for you. Keep looking.
So@24: -nervous chuckle part deux- Absolutely. -cough- I think I'm going to tackle the rest of that cheese ball. Any one else want to join?


Did I really just get asked when I was going to get married?? When did I reach that point in my life where someone finally thought it was an okay thing to say? Doesn't that line of question only happen to women?? That's supposed to be one of the perks of being male!

I have been really weirded out by that conversation all day.

Back in the Motherland Pt. 4: Spoony Spoony

While I'm down here, I try my best to see as many people as possible. Last night, I cleared out my evening to hang out with one of my closest college friends Beth.

We decided to kick things off right and pick up a 6 pack of Winterhook (it's winter, it's festive, and there's a high alcohol content) and a bag of Tim's Cascade Jalapeno chips. This combination was a staple for us back in school. We caught up with eachother's lives while sipping on our suds; our careers, dating, drunken stories, etc as we made our way to a local pub.

Beth and I didn't stay in the bar for long. She polished off her Rusty Nail rather quickly and we grew bored of people watching.

The walk back was more fun than the bar itself. As we stepped out into the Portland chill, Beth pulled out her gray gloves. Seeing that I didn't have any, she put her right one on and gave her left glove to me. She jumped off the steps and spun around to look at me. I gave her a confused look, she smiled, stepped back up to the steps, grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the sidewalk.

I mentioned in an earlier post that it's an odd sensation to hold someone's hand (no matter how trivial is may seem). It's still very weird and extremely comforting to hold a girl's hand. We laughed, held each other for balance as we headed back to her apartment.

If hand holding is weird, try spooning with a girl. There was nothing sexual about it, no hanky panky (sorry guys!). We grabbed each other for warmth and laughed some more about something insignificant, I'm sure. As "the little spoon", Beth interlocked her frozen fingers in mine, I kissed her on the forehead and we passed out.

It's been quite a while since I've had a member of the opposite sex sleep in same sheets as me. Being single after such a long relationship, I find myself missing these kinds of coupley things, even if it's not sexual.

Baby steps. Baby steps.

Back in the Motherland Pt. 3: Chat with the Broski

I haven't had a chance to spend any one on one time with my brother since returning home. So I thought it would be a good idea to grab a pitcher with just him.

We saddled up on a couple of bar stools at this local hang out. I had him get the first pitcher, reminding him that he owed me from the other night. He opened his mouth to argue, but then took it like a champion.

After sitting through a couple songs of the worst karaoke ever (these people absolutely obliterated "Sweet Caroline" and "Something Like That") we started chit chatting.

My brother and I only started really getting along within the past couple of years. We're complete opposite and always have been. We've NEVER come remotely close to having a serious discussion. So when he started bring up subjects such as Lynn and sex, I had to grip the table to keep from falling ass over tea kettle. These may not seem like such a big deal, but if you knew that our relationship is founded only on grabbing Carl's Jr. and playing each other on Halo 3 and Street Fighter 2, you'd appreciate the circumstances better.

Lil' Bro: So how many girls have you been with since the whole thing?
So@24: -nervous chuckle- Uhhhhh... none?
Lil' Bro: Shut the fuck up.
So@24: I'm serious.
Lil' Bro: -slams down glass and grabs my collar with both hands- You haven't done ANYthing??
So@24: No, bitch! Where are your numbers at??
Lil' Bro: You don't wanna know.
So@24: Tell me. Just give it to me straight.
Lil' Bro: Let's just say, less than 20, more than 15.
So@24: You're getting the next pitcher too, asshole.


Lil' Bro: Hey. Be honest. Do you miss her?
-sputter-
-wipes Bud Light off mouth with back of hand-
So@24: Lynn?
Lil' Bro: Who else would I be talking about, fucker?
So@24: I mean, yeah of course.
Lil' Bro: I kind of do, too. I miss having her around.
So@24: Hmmm.
-we both take a swig of our pints-

We clammed up for a bit after that. Endured some more terrible karaoking until we could take no more. I tossed a few bucks on the table to close out and we headed back home.

* * *

In other news, Nursey has been texting me out of the blue asking about my plans for the rest of the week. Hmmm, I'm smelling real potential here, boys and girls.

But you know my thoughts on sloppy seconds. This is a serious head scratcher.

Lilia Kopylova (1024x768 & 1280x800 WideScreen)

Back in the Motherland Pt. 2: C Blocked!

If you've never been to a mustache/wig party, I highly recommend it. Anyone that is willing to wear a fake mustache or sport a really fake wig can hang in my posse anytime.

Yesterday my Portland friends decided to throw one of these and it was absolutely hilarious. There's something about people willing to look like complete jackasses for the greater good that really makes the experience so much better.

I sported a gray bushy number with a white captain's hat, a horizontal-striped shirt, and a corncob pipe. I'm going to venture to say that it was one of the best ensembles of the night.

Started off like your typical party. Take a shot of vodka here, sing-a-long to some old-school Blink 182 there (-cough- uhhh... yeahhh...), drunkenly tapping guests on the shoulder and slurring phrases like, "The fog rolled in as thick as pea soup..." or "the sea was angry that day, my friends" leaving them bewildered and confused, etc.

At the end of the night (again, I'm not quite sure how I even got started into this situation), I'm on the couch chatting it up with this really cute girl who lives in my friends' apartment building. A petite brunette (I think she was... could have been a wig though. That possibility just now occurred to me.) with really crystal blue eyes. I'm finding myself in the similar as the night before. Cute girl. She's obviously sticking around conversing with me while I'm dressed as a salty sailor with a fake mustache; I'll take that as a good sign.

However, my brother and his really drunk girlfriend Celene are sitting on the other end of the couch trying to chat my ear off. My brother's girlfriend is a sweetheart, but she's absolutely shit faced at this point and keeps interrupting me while I'm trying to establish a rapport with this other girl.

Cute Brunette: I don't think that girl likes me.
So@24: Oh her? That's my brother's girlfriend. She's a little drunk, ignore her. What were you saying?
Cute Brunette: I was saying that you should come down to the party that I'm throwing right now.
So@24: That's great! Let's pop in for a minute!
Cute Brunette: Okay, let me--
Celene: We have to go! Come on! We have to go! -furiously tugs on my sweater-
So@24: (trying my best to ignore) I'm sorry, what did you say?
Celene: Come on! Come on! -tug, tug tug-
So@24: We'll go in a minute, I'm trying to talk to...
-turn around and Cute Brunette is already out the door-


So@24: Celene! What the hell was that!? You totally drove that girl I was talking to away! It was so obvious!
Celene: I just didn't think Lynn would appreciate that.
So@24: What!? Lynn!? LYNN?? What does Lynn have to do with anything??
Celene: Lynn remember?? Your girlfriend!
So@24: -buries face in hands- Dude. Celene. We haven't been together in a year!
Celene: Oh yeah.

Strike two for the second night in row! But I guess, I can't really blame my brother's girlfriend, she was absolutely blitzed and I probably contributed to it by making her take shots of Admiral Nelson with me. She apologized profusely the next morning when I retold the story, glaring at her while I chomped away at my breakfast toast.

But -drops to knees and throws arms in air- whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!?

Back in the Motherland Pt. 1: Sloppy Seconds

There's something funny about airports. It's a very "lovey" place. All around you people are embracing, holding hands, couples are kissing "hello" and kissing "goodbye". I used to be one of these.

Hmm.

I adjusted the weight from my shoulder strap and walked around a teary eyed girl watching her boyfriend head past security. "Get the fuck out of my way", went my inner monologue.

Ahhh Portland. Home sweet home. Stepping into my friends' apartment, a glass duck with amber liquid swishing around was shoved in my face.

So@24: What is this? -sniff- Black Velvet??
A nod and a shit eating grin was my friend Roger's response.

I missed these guys; they keep things simple. Some shots, showed me a little bit of their new PS3 and off to the Boiler Room for karaoke night. You really can't find a better combination to make my night.

The Portland scene is one of my favorites (a close second to Seattle). Down to earth Northwesterners is a refreshing pace from wannabe starlets. Ales were downed, shots taken, and I sang a beautiful rendition (if I do say so myself) of Asia's "Heat of the Moment" into a beer soaked microphone.

At one point of the night, I started chatting it up with a cute nursing student. She had her auburn hair pulled up in a thick ponytail, a faint spatter of freckles and a single dimple when she smiled (nice!). I'm not quite sure how I got to talking with her or what we were discussing (hmmm... the effects of alcohol...), but I got a good vibe and thought things were going pretty well.

However, later in the evening, she had her arms wrapped around my other friend Rich's waist while he lazily sipped his Drop Top.

Goddammit!

He didn't seem too interested in her; his eyes were wandering the bar and she was trying to flirt by whispering in his ear. Once she left his side to grab another cocktail, I approached ol' Richy.

So@24: What's your deal man? How come you're giving her the cold shoulder. Don't you think she's cute?
Rich: Meh. I've already had her.
So@24: What!?
Rich: Yeah. Like... twice. -takes long sip-

You bastard. Doesn't even appreciate it! Well, I spent the last 20 mins trying to charm the pants off my friend's boning buddy.

Oh well. Still got a few more days to make my mark on Portland and then it's up to Seattle!

I Hate Hollywood

Never again.

Never again am I going to some hot Hollywood dance club or bar unless I'm on some list. And even then I might attempt to finally drink an entire jar of pickle juice instead.

Allow me to support my thesis with evidence. I'll be specific.

Called the girl (let's call her Nikia) after work. She informed me that they were going out to a bar called Opera. I never heard of it, but then again, my group of friends NEVER go out these types of bars/clubs. I grit my teeth, "Come on, she's only in town once." I pick up a fifth of vodka and some orange juice to prefunk with before heading out.

Get a call hours later, they are still getting ready (figures) so the prefunk most likely won't happen.

So@24: So I bought this vodka for nothing??
Nikia: After party. Duh.

I forgot why I love this girl.

So I down a few cans of courage juice and drag Leo with me. We head out to Hollywood and it takes us a good 20 mins to find parking. Thursday night. Hollywood. Not surprising.

Walk a few hundred blocks to Opera, just as we approach the line I get a call.

Nikia: We just found out it's a private party. We're going to Area instead!

Jesus. Turning on our heels we head back to the car and drive to Area. Fucking Area. One of the most talked about clubs in LA. There's no way a couple of douche bags like ourselves are getting in (we have penises).

The line outside isn't that large, but it's clear that the line we're in isn't getting in. Tons of beautiful, and I'm talking gorgeous, girls flood from the streets and bat their eyelashes at the club promoters who are sporting the latest ratted tshirts and blazers. Their C cups pouring out the top of their dresses with gams that go on for ages. It's really quite an experience.

I'm calling Nikia back to back to back. Getting voicemail and starting all over again. I do this about 25 times hoping that she'll hear it over Rihanna or feel the faint vibration in her purse. She doesn't answer.

I hate myself and I know Leo is feeling the same. We both roll our eyes at each other that we are even STUCK in this situation. This is not our scene. Complete Hollywood dicks are calling over the bouncers name dropping like crazy. More often than not, this technique doesn't work.

Now I'm getting pissed. These girls know that we're meeting them and they aren't even calling to see why it's taking us so long? They aren't even checking their phones periodically? Unbelievable. UnFUCKINGbelievable. At this point I have both of my hands on top of my head looking at Leo in disbelief. I feel like I sold out my soul.

So@24: Let's just leave. I'm serious. This is sucking my lifeblood being a part of this.
Leo: Let me try something first.

Leo gets the attention of the bouncer.

"Excuse me. My friend here has some friends from out of town he hasn't seen in years. Can he pop in and say 'Hello'. I'll stay out here."

I get a nod and the sacred velvet rope is pulled aside... JUST FOR ME! I wait in a SECOND line and spend the next 8 mins eavesdropping on "who might be inside!"

I can feel the club's music while in line. The music is rattling my ribcage and I push my way through to try and find Nikia.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a busty blonde girl in a dark, popular Hollywood club? It's like trying to find Waldo in that one part where there's a million Waldos in the Land of Waldos. Yeah, the real one is without a shoe, jackass.

I get body checked about 3 times, weaving in and out of grinding couples. I'm bending into crowds of people to get a better look at faces. I must have looked like a complete creep.

My search leads me to the dance floor and I see them.

Nikia: Oh my God! AHHH! Where have you been!?
So@24: Outside for the last 30 mins! How come you guys didn't even check on me? Nice to see you by the way, you look good.
Nikia: Thanks. Well, let's get a drink! I haven't seen you in ages! Oh my God, is that a beard?? I love you, you haven't changed a bit, you weirdo.
So@24: I can't stay, my roommate is outside waiting for me. I'm lucky I even got in to say "hi".
Nikia: Sad. Well, I think we're going to Winston's afterward? Drinks at your place after that then?
-my jaw drops-
So@24: Yeah. Fine. Just call me. Good seeing you.

I leave the club, shaking my head in disbelief at Leo. We head back and I go to straight to bed.

Ladies, your gender scored a big, fat, fucking F last night. God, I hate Hollywood.

'Least I have an entire fifth left.





----------------
Now playing: Yes - Owner of a Lonely Heart

Samson

I'm a lazy, lazy man. And I really hate shaving.

Last week, I made a joke to Leo that I was going to grow the beard out. He actually challenged me to do so and now I'm on day 12. I must say, it's coming in quite nicely. Much better than I thought. I even got a couple compliments from the party! "I usually don't like facial hair, but it looks good!"

This isn't going to last though, I'm mostly doing it for the comedic effect. This bad boy is going to be lopped off when I return home this weekend, after I show Mimi. I promised her that I'd keep it until she saw it in person.

However...

A girl who I was friends with in college (not extremely close) called me last night out of the blue to tell me she's in town for the weekend. Tonight is my last night in LA before returning home, so tonight is it. I never thought too much of her when we were in school (girlfriend at the time, remember?), but she's looking pretty cute these days. In town. One night. Be cool, So, be cool.


Do I really want her to see me for the first time with my awkward beard? It's funny, yes. But I'm pretty sure I'm not putting my best foot forward looking like Judge Ito.

I have a few hours to make a decision. Do I keep the beard and embrace my humorous side? Or do I shave and avoid looking like the shifty eyed bar fly who sips his Wild Turkey (neat, of course), sitting on a bar stool in the corner, ashing his lone cigarette on his snake skinned boots?

Who knew that trolling for booty would force me to make these tough choices?

Looking Toward the Future

Apparently my post yesterday caught the attention of both my roommate and my cousin. They had a few things to say to me this morning:

Leo: Do you wonder if you'll ever have it better?
So@24: I'm not following.
Leo: Putting aside my own personal thoughts on the matter, I'm asking you if you're ever hit with the thought that you might not find a better girl... a girl you find more attractive -- physically, mentally, socially, etc. Do you ever wonder if you'll find someone better or do you doubt that you ever wil?
So@24: Hahaha, I think about that all the time. And it scares to me, to be honest.
Leo: Let me tell you that you're not alone. I think everyone, literally everyone has those thoughts after breaking up with a long-term significant other. It's especially strong in your case because, for the most part, you guys grew up together. You shaped each other's mannerisms, personalities, etc. Truth is, thankfully, that space away from someone gives you time to sort of come to grips with yourself -- and I think you'll realize soon that you have nothing to worry about. There will be another and she'll be better.
So@24: What's bringing this all of a sudden? This is coming out of nowhere!
Leo: Sometimes you get drunk and say shit that leads me to believe you're still beating yourself up about it. I just wanted to let you know my thoughts.
So@24: Fuck. I don't remember saying anything like that in a long time. I usually keep that shit to myself.
I think about it sometimes, but I don't dwell on it. If that makes any sense. The thing I miss most is her friendship; you know that humor was a big deal to me. And parts of me think, "Man, if only these stupid little things were different, it would have made all the difference."
Leo: This is called living and learning.
Nostalgia is a way of looking back, painting over the bad bits, and selling it for more than it's worth. Trust me on this one, there will be another. Probably several. If you don't believe m, just consider the numbers.
So@24: The numbers?
Leo: Number of girls in our age bracket multiplied by the percentage you'd deem attractive. Say one girl in 50 hot girls finds you engaging and interesting... you're still dealing with millions. But it takes time to extricate yourself from that post-breakup nostalgia
So@24: You have to admit I'm much better than I was even a few months ago.
Leo: Buy me a beer when it happens.
So@24: I'll buy us both a beer. And perhaps the new bird. Under my arm. Chugging with us.
Leo: Exactly. Methinks you're getting it.
So@24: Perhaps dude, perhaps.
Leo: It's true. There are girls who will love to lay around and watch reruns of Quantum Leap or the A-Team, but who ALSO love to go out in a ruffle skirt and get wasted, then come home and have lots of drunk sex
So@24: Big money! Big money! Big money!

Mimi: I can't wait until you have a new girlfriend
So@24: Why!?
Mimi: Cause you'll be a better boyfriend.
So@24: Ouch.
Mimi: You weren't a bad boyfriend when you were with just me and her. But then again, you never said "I love you" which is weird.
So@24: Hmmmm, yeah I'm not quite sure where I picked that one up.
Mimi: Were you insecure with her?
So@24: Kind of. Not until the end of college. Remember when I was huge insomniac? Didn't go to bed until 5:00 watching Nick@Nite and then going to my 8:30s?
Mimi: Yeah. That was weird.
So@24: I mean, I knew she cared about me a lot. But deep down, I was scared that once I graduated and moved down here, it would be too much. Which was dumb, because me not telling her these things contributed to it. Chicken and the egg kind of ordeal. When did this get fucking serious??
Mimi: You aren't alone. A lot of people think that. Yeah and this is getting way too serious for my tastes. You're gay.

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Picture This!

I've crumbled a few times and gone against some of the cardinal rules of the Post Break-Up Rule Book. I doubt that anyone has the strength to actually be cleared of all rules; everyone slips up on a couple.

I'm guilty of some of the classics:

• drunk texting
• sending mix cds
• listening to music that brought me back.

But I've been able to be pretty good about some and damn proud of myself:

• I packed her photos away and haven't looked at them once.
  
• I never drove out to her house in the middle of a rainstorm, dropped to my knees and yelled "STELLA!"
  
• I never once MySpace/Facebook stalked her, for fears of coming across the dreaded "couple picture" set as a default.

-elbow nudge- Eh, Blondey??

So when I say I haven't seen her in a year, I mean that literally. That streak broke today.

My friend Jack is a new addition to my cluster of Los Angeles chums. He never was around during my girlfriend era and never saw her. During an online conversation today, he asked to see a picture. A reasonable request.

I pulled up an album I created on Facebook called "College Favorites" and searched for the one picture of her I kept on there. It was one that I'd always loved, but she hated. I think she took it when she was bored and laying on the carpet, waiting for something (me to finish up getting the whistle on Super Mario Bros. 3 sounds about right). She's making the face that most girlfriends make when they are waiting for their boyfriends to finish their video game. It's really an insignificant photo, but I thought it was funny and she was very pretty in it.

I never told her that. I never told her that I loved that photo. If you knew me, I'm not the type to voice these kinds of things. It's embarrassing and it makes me feel vulnerable to spew these types of romantic cliche's. But in hindsight, it's terrible that I didn't. 6 years? What was I afraid of? I'm not sure where that phobia originated from.

Good news, I didn't get that wave of nausea I've become used to. I smiled and sent the picture off to Jack.

So@24: Cutie, eh?
Jack: Yeah dude. Definitely.

It's so much easier to admit these things when I can hide behind my computer screen.

I Missed Out On An Orgy

Saturday, my friends David and Doug decided to throw a party at their place. Everyone was to bring a 6 pack of beer that wasn't Budlight, Natural Light, Pabst, etc. These beers were dumped into a cooler and everyone shared the cornucopia of tasty beverages.

It was fun to wet my palate with different beers from around the globe and pat the backs of my good friends, but the crowd was the same as it always is. A bunch of dudes... no new girls (it's a douchey thing to say, but I can't help it). The party was just like a million others we have thrown, so after sobering up, I assigned myself the job of being the DD and escorted Leo and Jack home.

Apparently, not long after I left the premises, an orgy took place. A real fucking orgy. I couldn't believe it when I heard the news through the grapevine Sunday morning. I needed to get the scoop from Doug, the man in charge of organizing the smörgåsbord of naked bodies.

So@24: Tell me about the orgy. Now.
Doug: hahahah
fuuuuck
shit got weird indeeed
So@24: wtf dude!?
Doug: haha, damn i dont really know how to describe it... just some nakedness and rubbing
So@24: Did you guys make some pact never to discuss it again?
Doug: no. it was all pretty casual.
So@24: How can an orgy be fucking casual!?

An orgy. Weird man.

Empty Bottle of Body Wash

I think that everyone at some point plays some kind of superstitious game. I'm the last person to believe in these things, but sometimes they can be fun. For example, Will used to count out exactly 13 ice cubes in his water jug before high school soccer games. Paxton used to juggle a ball and said if he got to a certain number, he could achieve whatever he desired. You see what I'm saying? Everyone does something like this.

I did this with the bottle of Old Spice body wash I keep in the shower. Way back when, Lynn tossed out my bar soap methods and replaced it with a loofah. I was reluctant at first (sacrificing my precious manhood and all), but came to admit that the loofah/body wash clean was much more satisfying.

The thing with body wash is, they last FOREVER. A large bottle could last me an entire calendar year. One night, many moons ago, while I was scrubbing down my disgusting body I thought to myself, "I bet I will hear from Lynn by the time this bottle is empty." I'm not quite sure why I picked my body wash to make as the benchmark, but I did.


This afternoon, I opened up my gmail to see the word Lynn in bold; my only new message.

My eyes widened like dinner plates and my stomach did a perfect somersault. Leo was in the kitchen, with his jeans rolled up, mopping the floor.

"Holy SHIT!"
"What!? What!?"
"Lynn just emailed me."
"No way dude. No. Fucking. Way."

"Beer," I say.

An ice cold can is instantly placed in my open hand, like a surgeon at the operating table requesting a scalpel, as my eyes continue to stay fixed on the screen.

This is the first time I have heard from her in almost a year. Her first sentence actually made me chuckle... I guess she didn't totally forget what I'm like:

First off, don't freak out. Take a breath. I know, I am emailing you. I just have some things to say and get off of my chest, and hopefully they will help you feel okay.

I think when you get a message like this, you automatically try to take the entire thing in all at once. My eyes darted back and forth looking for key words like, "I hate you" or "Leave me alone" or "I'd like to see you", etc. I finally shut my eyes, took a breath and started from the beginning.

The email wasn't too short or too long and basically telling me that she DID want to talk and meet up eventually, but now wasn't the best time. She isn't mad. She doesn't hate me. She still thinks about me. She asked that I not send her things anymore or try to contact her.

I sat back on the yoga ball and blinked for the first time in what seems like years.

Leo: Well? What's going on in that head of yours?
So@24: I'm okay. I'm okay. It's not bad.

It was good to hear from her. "Good" is a bit of an understatement... tiny gnomes in my chest were throwing a kegger and everyone was getting down. It was just... nice. Nice to hear from her. Nice to know that she doesn't hate me and that she does (someday) want to be friends. I just have to be patient, I suppose. I'm not the known for being the best at that.

As much as I wanted to respond to her email, I simply shut down the computer and got in the shower.

And would you believe it? My Old Spice body wash had one good squeeze left before it was completely empty.

I can't make things like this up.




----------------
Now playing: Relient K - Falling Out

I'm Forrest Gump

Remember that scene in Forrest Gump when Jenny removes her bra and Forrest awkwardly turns away? And then she takes his hand and places it right on her boob? And then he looks back at her and then orgasms? And then he apologizes over and over again?

That's me the next time.

I swear to God.

Learning to Flirt

A girl I met a few months ago, texted me out of the blue inviting me to go out to her party. I really wasn't that into her, she was nice enough, but I was kind of "meh" over her. In fact, I left her at some point to talk on the phone with my cousin Mimi which I later was thoroughly chewed out by Leo and others.

But I figure it's time for me not to be so picky. Again, I have a thing with turning down opportunities of meeting new people. So I tell my loyal roommate about the plans for this weekend which lead to a mini lecture on how awkward I am...

Leo: Stop being chummy and learn how to flirt.
So@24: Who's being chummy??
Leo: You. Ask anyone. No offense buddy, but you do not know how to flirt.
So@24: Yes I do!
Leo: Have I ever seen you flirt? Please answer "no"
So@24: Wait let me think...
Leo: Your version of flirting is feigned overzealousness that just comes off as chummy and platonic. It puts you firmly in friend territory.
So@24: I happen to think I'm a pretty damn good flirt.
Leo: Here's your problem: what you consider flirting is considered chummy conversation and joking with the opposite sex. Hold some damn eye contact for once. Touch a girl in a way that isn't your arm around the neck while chugging a beer. Smile at her in a way that's not so obviously platonic. You're like the best buddy in the world!
So@24: How can I take myself seriously? The whole concept of flirting is hilarious! It's funny!
Leo: I'm sure it is. But flirting isn't funny, man.
So@24: I only know how to be funny. It's my only card!
Leo: Time to draw another kiddo.

I wanted a second opinion.

Veronica: Would you consider yourself a good flirter? I feel like you start out okay, but you get too drunk.
So@24: I think I'm good!
Veronica: Okay, what do you do that's good?
So@24: Uhh... throw my arm around a girl and chug a beer with her?
Veronica: hm.
So@24: Eh?? Eh?? - arms stretched out-
Veronica: Yeah, no.

I got some things to work on apparently.

... And We're Back

So much for the hiatus.

I'm not going to stop writing. I've said it from the beginning that I'm not going to censor myself, no matter what and I feel like I should stick to that creed.

I've gone back and reread my entries and there's nothing incriminating or to be embarrassed about. I'm not quite sure how my blog got leaked, but fuck it. I'll admit that it knocked my wind out a bit knowing that it was discovered by someone in my circle. Leo pointed out to me it'd be "an injustice" if I'd stopped... almost 5,000 view can't be wrong. "Injustice" might be a stretch, but I'll take the compliment when I can get it!

But this does give me a moment to address again why I started this in first place.

I wanted to do a real, accurate account of what it's like to enter into the dating world for the first time at an age when people have already experienced all the awkward situations and feelings that come with it. It'd be honest and I thought I'd hit a niche where the anecdotes to come out of it would be both hard to swallow at times and other times absolutely hilarious.

I thought it'd be interesting to see the transformation.

Also, I like to write. It's a great way for me to vent. And I know what it's like to be a friend on the receiving end of a post-break up conversation. They can only be supportive for so long before they get sick of hearing you discuss your heartache over and over again. So instead of putting them in the awkward position of pretending to care to and feigning interest, I signed up for a place where I can do it guilt free. And to write about what I want to write about.

-dusts hands-

Well, that was fun, kiddos. May the adventures of So@24 continue!




And to my new guest... "welcome".

Code Red!

It seems as though my anonymous blog is not so anonymous anymore. Not. Dope.

Consider this a hiatus until I figure out what to do next.

Stay tuned.

...


There's a mole amongst us.

PS. Im not going to stop writing. But I need to gather my baseball cards, go home and figure out who stole my Mickey Mantle Rookie Card and kick them out of the No Girls Club.

Steel Reserve and a 9 Iron Can Be Therapeutic

After a particularly rough Friday, Sunday came as a pleasant surprise.

I absolutely hate doing any kind of physical/outdoor activity (except soccer), so when Jack suggested we do something instead of pumping out livers full of poison, I was less than enthused. When Leo and Jack wanted to do a hike on Runyon Canyon and I had already planned to sit at home in my boxers eating baked beans with a large soup spoon out of a tin can.

However, plans changed and they suggested hitting off a few golf balls at the driving range. I'm no golfer, but I've recently acquired a taste for knocking the shit out of a little white ball to let off some steam.

Of course, I had them stop by the local grocery store to pick up some beverages. It was my turn to buy. Steel Reserve 12 pack for $5.99. Buyer's choice!

It was extremely relaxing. Watching the pollution of Los Angeles creating a cool purpley/orangey horizon as you launch little white balls off a square of artificial grass. Sipping on some suds with your buddies.

It's simple distractions like that, that really matter during these weird "down" times.

Paris Hilton Wallpapers (1024x768 & 1280x800 WideScreen)

Return to Sender

Confession time. Back in September, I wrote a five page letter.

It wasn't a pathetic letter. It wasn't anything I'd look back at later and regret. I knew what the outcome might be and I was prepared for all the negative consequences that were most likely inevitable.

It was just something more or less like, "Fuck, it's been almost a year. Weird? No hard feelings, I hope? I still miss your friendship despite all this shit. You know I'm always around, right?"

I hadn't heard anything back until 3:20 pm this afternoon.

The office mail came in and a coworker walked up with a package.

"Hey, is this your's? It looks like your handwriting, but I saw this weird note on the back."

My eyes flashed and I nervously grabbed the package from his hands.

"Uh yeah, it's mine. Oh weird, uh... from my... step sister."
"Yeah, okay."

That was dumb.

The package was unopened, but the front was plastered with the dreaded words RETURN TO SENDER and UNABLE TO FORWARD. But it still smelled faintly of my cologne (a dirty little trick on my part, I admit).

On the back was written in an all too familiar handwriting:

I don't hate you.
I will just contact you when I'm read.. and right now,
I'm not ready.
I'm sorry.

My face is on fire and I'm embarrassed.

I feel like puking tortilla soup.

300,000 Drunken Los Angelenos = Halloween

The West Hollywood Halloween Costume Carnaval is legendary. This year an estimated 300,000 people went out to Santa Monica Blvd drunkenly stumbling around in their best costume attire.

I was one of them.

Leo, Jack and I started early... you have to if you plan on making it down there at a decent hour. We met up with one of Leo's friends at her apartment and quickly downed a couple of shots. We met a couple of people at the apartment, one of them being a cute girl dressed in a French maid outfit. Short, cute girl-next-door face, ample bosom. Bullseye.

So@24: So what do you do?
Frenchy: I go to UCLA
So@24: Grad student?
Frenchy: No, undergrad.
-swallows large gulp of Mickeys-
So@24: How old are you?
Frenchy: 20. Well, I'll be 20 next weekend.
So@24: Ahh.

So much for that. She was nice though. Still guzzlin' the 40, we head out of the apartment and follow the crowds of people out to Santa Monica Blvd.

I can't describe accurately enough the amount of people that flooded the streets. I can't do it justice. But there's something about the energy of everyone gathered in one place, dressed like assholes, and fucked up out of their minds off God knows what that's intoxicating.

Oh. And lots of cute girls dressed like hos. The outfits everyone loves to hate.

Night was a blur and my costume was a hit. Lots of high fives, lots of drunkards hollering "USA! USA! USA!", lots of people asking to take pictures, and a lot of dudes grabbing my ass. I got a few compliments from some random girls, which kind of made it worth it. At one point, I remember some chubby, Asian girl actually rubbed my ass for a good 10 seconds.

I also made some friends with some trannies when they offered me a beer. Leo and Jack swept in, grabbed me by my elbow, and rolled me away.

At the end of the evening as I'm struggling to keep my balance on my rollerblades, I noticed that Leo was relatively cranky. I threw an arm around him and slurred, "What's wrong, old chap?"

"Here's the silver lining in the cloud for you. Not having sex in a year, it's not a big deal anymore. You don't expect it. All these gorgeous, half-naked girls we've seen tonight? It's a huge cocktease. And it's frustrating as hell."

Wow. He was right. As much as I like to bitch about not having sex, it really didn't effect me. I'm not anticipating the next time I'm going to park the ol' beef bus in Tuna Town and I'm not worried about it. But with Leo, a guy who is used to getting "his", once every couple of weeks... I can see why this scantily-clad maidens would be a bit irritating at the end of the night.

I guess there always is a silver lining.


Paxton: That's not a silver lining! Leo's just way hornier than you!

"It's Called College and it's Over"

So@24: Leo is going on a fucking double date
Beth: With who??
So@24: Our friend Jack and two girls they met at the bar last week
Beth: Where are you at in this equation?
So@24: I'm not sure what I was doing...
Beth: Goddammit. Why the f do you do that?
So@24: Do what??
Beth: Get drunk and lost when you could be schmoozing on the ladies
So@24: Maybe it's like a tree falling in the woods. If I'm not there to talk to these girls, then I risk nothing if I get shut down
Beth: You are really bad at dating. Horrible actually. You really suck. It just hit me how bad you are it. And its not that girls aren't interested.
So@24: I'm beginning to love your little epiphanies.
Beth: You just suck at putting yourself out there!
So@24: I'm not bad at DATING, it's GETTING the dates that's the hard part.
Beth: That's the biggest part! It's smooth sailing after that! And don't try to say that it's easier for girls easier. Girls have to put something out there too.
So@24: Yeah. Their boobs.
Beth: MAN UP! Nut up and stick it out there! I guarantee you'll have good results. Who doesn't love you?
So@24: Yeah, I'm everyone's little teddy bear.
Beth: You're pissing me off. You could bone anyone you wanted. Get some confidence, you boner.
So@24: Whatever happened to girls getting drunk and being overly obvious that they want to get busy?
Beth: It's called college and it's over.