The end of creepy guy

Being harrassed is not fun, and the creepy guy was really starting to piss me off. After almost a week of ignoring him, he was still bothering me. I confided in the Heterophobe: "I want to send him a text or something just telling him to fuck off, but I don't want to contact him ever again."

He responded that "He'll probably just think you're flirting with him." I laughed. "No, seriously. He'll think it's some kind of game."

So I ignored creepy guy, hoping that the third unreturned call would be enough to give this guy some clarity. But wishful thinking rarely works, and this was no exception. Last night, while drinking with my roommates, I heard my phone chime with a text. I was hoping it was The Ex, but instead it was the creepy guy.

"Hey... give me a call... i found a roommie, but i wanted to talk to you about the film."

I had a small outburst of frustration that attracted the interest of my friends. "What's wrong?"

"Creepy guy just texted me! Why won't he go the fuck away?!"

I then got my friend, Nice Guy, to text him for me. After a minute or two of deliberation over word choice, we came up with "Please stop trying to contact me."

Creepy guy wrote back: "Ouch. So i was a creep. But i'm not. Promise. At least let me explain how i could be such a jerk..."

My friends all drunkenly booed him, and Nice Guy wrote back "No."

Creepy guy then wrote me such a long text that it took two messages. "Lol. I deserve that, but don't blow off the job just cause i have absolutely no class. I felt comfortable w/you. Look. I'll have my website up in the next few days and you can decide then whether you'll let me make it up to you... c'mon. The website is [url]"

Hopefully he'll stop contacting me now. 'Cause this thing is getting way old.

TAB, the no-fun drunk

On Friday, I spent the evening with my roommates out on the town. And let me just say, it's almost appalling how little my inhibitions change after drinking alcohol.

We were at a bar, the kind where no one really mingles. So we ended up watching (making fun of) the people in the establishment. There was a couple on a date who became more and more... affectionate... as the night progressed. (Free porn? Awesome) There were a bunch of bored-looking chicks at the bar. And, most importantly, there was a cute busboy and a very cute bartender. Unfortunately, though I had received several stares on my way to the bar (all pointed out to me by Heterophobe), neither busboy nor bartender was checking me out at the bar (although I am pretty oblivious).

Since there were no other cute guys around, I kept putting dishes on the edge of our table for the busboy. "We should order more drinks so he'll bring them!" I whispered to Miss Responsible.

"Ooooh, look who has a crush!" She slurred.

"Whatever, I just want to look at him a little bit longer."

"Ask him out!!" Miss Responsible nudged me and winked.

"No way."

"Come on! What have you got to lose?" She nudged me again.

I smiled with embarrassment and laughed at her simultaneously. "My dignity? I'm sure these guys get hit on all the time. Besides, they should be asking me out if they want me."

"Come on, TAB! You're the hottest girl in this bar. They'll be lucky to have you. Just walk up to one of them and give him your phone number."

I was starting to wonder if I was a lame drunk. Shouldn't I be stripping on top of the table by now? Asking a guy out while incredibly drunk should not be a problem. "Maybe if one of them was smiling at me, exchanging words with me... or even looking at me at all, I'd do it. But they're not."

I hoped that this was true and not just an excuse. Otherwise, people will soon realize they can't convince me to do embarrassing things when I'm drunk and stop inviting me to parties.

Not a great start

"We're having a party on Valentine's day," my housemate R told me with glee.

"Really?" I was surprised. I've only seen R drink one time this year, and that was at the Superbowl. Perhaps she liked it, because I could already tell that by "party" she didn't mean hair-braiding and toenail-painting.

"Yeah, we're all going to dress up and drink wine and be fabulous."

In the days that followed, I worried about this whole "wine" business. Unlike crappy vodka, which can be mixed with sweet juices and sodas, crappy wine is just unenjoyable. And expensive. And my knowledge of alcoholic beverages encompasses only mixed drinks. Wine is for grown-ups.

Last night, R brought me her wine handbook that describes different wines in terms of flavor, acidity, and all those other bells and whistles. After realizing I had no idea what "high acidity" would actually mean, R and I gave up. "You just need to drink more."

This, I could agree with.

Today, R and I went to the wine shop. Instead of guiding me through the store in a nurturing manner, R ran off to some corner of the shop while I gazed at the wall full of bottles. As I wandered to the back, one of the workers asked "Can I help you with anything?"

Reasoning that he could probably tell I was lost, I decided to tell him the truth. "Yes, actually. I don't know that much about wine."

"Well, are you looking for something to cook with, or to drink?"

"Drink" I said abruptly, then felt a little embarrassed. Did that make me sound like an alcoholic in the making?

"Well, what do you want?"

Wait, what? I just told you I don't know anything about wine and you're asking me what I like? "Um..."

"If you tell me something you like, I can give you suggestions."

What the hell? He didn't even start with the basic white/red, sweet/dry... How could I speak to this man? I gave up and just threw out the name of the last red wine I'd drank. "Pinot noir?"

He showed me a wall of pinots and walked away. Superb. The fact that they were all different brands meant nothing to me, except I guessed that, as with vodka, the cheapest one was the worst. I grabbed it anyway. I definitely should have pretended I knew something about wine, I decided as I snuck a glance at R, who was casually perusing the Merlots.

After letting her pick another bottle for me and grabbing two handles of vodka, I was at the checkout counter. "How old are you, miss?" Asked the kind-eyed woman behind the counter.

"Twenty-one, just turned actually!" I chirped.

"Can I see your ID?"

For once, this didn't sound like a threat. Unfortunately, I realized that I might have a smidge of a problem when I pulled out my expired license with a hole punched over my date of birth, and my temporary license... y'know, the one made out of paper.

"Honey, I can't see your date of birth on this one, and the other one could be from anywhere."

"But... I'm twenty one... I don't know what to tell you."

"Do you have a passport?" It was in my room. Lame... "I can't sell anything to you, we could get in big trouble for that."

The lady kindly let R pay for my drinks and we left. If I had manhood, it would be crushed. Instead, when I look at my precious bottles of wine, I can see them mocking me.

I hate being 'it' in Tag

Okay guys, I'm drunk, I'm vulnerable, Chicago lost the Superbowl... let's do a post to reveal my crazy secrets...

1. Each player of this game starts with the “6 weird things about you”.

2. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly.

3. At the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

Weird thing #1:
All the guys I am attracted to are less into sex than I am. Great.

Weird thing #2:
I used to be neat freak, and even though I still feel like a neat freak at heart, I am pretty messy most of the time. (although maybe by "pretty messy," I mean not OCD... hmm)

Weird thing #3:
People think that I'm bitchy or rude because of the way I act, which they describe as "confident," whereas I am often extremely self-conscious. So... I accidentally come off as a bitch (hence my blog title)

Weird thing #4:
I hated (American) football until I learned about it this January. Now I love it. Call me a hypocrite, or just accept me as cool because now I'm one of the elite class of women who's into football.

Weird thing #5:
Much as I hate the gender stereotypes, I have to know that the relationship is "going somewhere" before I let a man touch me below the belt. Even though I feel like a prude for doing so. And am really really horny.

Weird thing #6:
Often, I think I'm more popular on my blog than I am in real life. I know that may sound sad, but in some ways it's very rewarding: I am a writer, and y'all don't know me, so it's even more of a compliment that you stick around. Sometimes when I feel like no one likes me, I remember how rewarding my blog is and it makes me feel better. Um... wow lame... forget that one.

Yeah I'm really drunk. Really. Mmmm... vanilla vodka. Who wants to make out?

The 6 I'll tag are the top 6 commenters on my last post (good job, guys!!):
1. Wanderlusting
2. GrewUpRural
3. The Ambiguous Blob
4. S (aka dropout)
5. Strange bird
6. monicker

Hah! That'll teach you not to comment first anytime soon!

Bday details, open call for older friends

How was my 21st birthday? Not too drunken, unfortunately.

My parents took me, along with my aunts and uncles, to a fantastic restaurant for dinner. The type of restaurant where all I could think about was how rich everyone in the room must be, because everything was so expensive and so classy. Due to the finery of the establishment, there were also very few men my age to gaze at. However, I was pleasantly drunk during the entire meal thanks to the strength of my cocktail (a cosmolini).

In the beginning of the day I had received a phone call from my older cousin who wanted to come party with me in Seattle, and when dinner was over I gave her a call. My mom was against me going out because I had an early flight the next morning, but I convinced her with my "responsible face" (and a small lie to ease her mind). I had my outfit planned and had made sure I could stay awake by drinking some strong coffee with dessert. Just as I was about to get ready my cousin called me, crying. "Whoa, what's going on?" I asked. She explained, pausing periodically to sob, that her friend couldn't drive anymore and she only had a two-seater (her boyfriend was going to drive). I heroically reassured her that it was all right and got off the phone.

So, not a boozy birthday. But now that I'm back at school, plans are being formulated (perhaps featuring Manhattan..). Unfortunately most of my friends are younger than me, so I sense some changes coming: my friends with fake IDs will be promoted to "closest friend" status, while those without will be demoted. Perhaps even laid off. Seriously, I only have so many positions available. I'm currently shopping for a replacement for S. Any takers? Send resumes to tabtheblog@gmail.com (Just kidding, S. No one is as entertaining as you)

And... tomorrow I will tell you all about my plane ride back, which was 3 million percent better than my birthday. Hint: there is a cute guy involved.

The big birthday plans

My 21st birthday is tomorrow, Saturday. All of my previous life experience has informed me that this means I should be partying with tons of friends at a bar, a club, or both. I should probably puke and stumble around a lot, maybe have sex with a stranger, and definitely blog about it the next day.

There are a few problems with that rosy picture.

1. I'm still at my parents', and all of my friends from my hometown are back at school.
2. The friends who are in the area/could come are younger than me and therefore would not be able to join. And I think a 21st birthday girl alone at a bar is a pretty sad picture.
3. I had surgery and am afraid to walk around from bar to bar or dance at a club. Even falling down is probably off limits.

Knowing all of this far in advance, I came up with a plan B that's about 50% as cool: I asked my mom to treat me to a fancy dinner at this gourmet restaurant, where each food course has a wine course. Unfortunately, we are on the wait list.

When we were at dinner at my aunt's house the other night, my aunt said: "So, you're almost 21 TAB! How exciting! What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure anymore," I responded. I explained the reservation problem, and then meekly said "I don't really care where we go, I just want to get a drink out somewhere to celebrate."

After my mom offered a few equally fancy (and probably boring) restaurant alternatives, I revealed that I would prefer to drink cocktails rather than wine. My aunt exclaimed "Let's take her out to all the Seattle bars and force her to down as many drinks as we can think of!"

This turned into a conversation about "way back then," when they used to drink all kinds of booze late into the night. They started reviewing different drinks, none of which I've heard of. I listened in delighted shock. "We're going to get you wasted!" My aunt cried, giggling.

I grinned. "This is why you're my favorite aunt."