Oh Mah Gah Mondays: It's Not a Shirt, But It's Not a Dress Edition.

Happy Memorial Day kiddies! I went through a lot to take this here picture of the lovely lady with the questioning dress that looks like a shirt and made my head so confused it almost exploded into a heap of vodka and ninjas. Nevertheless, I took the picture and ran out of the night club, escaping three really big girls (friends' of the lady in question) by a hair.

When it comes to dresses that are this short, it pays off to be safe and a) wear tights or b) realize that a dress should never really be this short in the first place and opt for another outfit choice altogether. I had my friend photoshop all the cellulite dimples from the picture for the safety of your eyes, ladies and gents (and yes, she is holding on to a stripper pole).

You're welcome.

Two Words: You Suck.

I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep and thinking how much insomnia really sucks when I realized I haven't posted anything in like two days.

I have no real "next post material" my people so you're forced to read the following rambling.

A NOTE TO THINGS THAT SUCK

Dear Cup of Water on my Night Stand: You didn't tell me there was a fly in you and now I went ahead and drank you. Thanks a lot. You suck.
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Dear Checking Account Balance: I like you so much better when you're not red. You suck.-
Dear Makers of The Bachelor: No one believes in love anymore and it's all your fault. Your roses are withered. Just quit now before you cause any further damage. You suck.
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Dear Neighbor: Hammering shit at 7:22 a.m. is illegal in most states. You suck.
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Dear House Phone: Please stop ringing precisely after 8:00 a.m. to only tell me stupid things like "You've won a trip to the Bahamas" or "Please hold for an important message." I live in Miami, House Phone, and I simply don't care for the Bahamas. I'm trying to sleep. You suck.
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Dear Miami Drivers (Special Shotout to the Ones with BMW's): Don't hate me. But you simply suck.
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Dear Hangover: Heavy tongue that tastes like sand paper is so overrated. The drummerboy in my head? I hate him. The scale telling me I've lost 6 pounds only to prove it's a lie two days later? I just can't take it, Hangover. Stop patronizing me. I didn't have eight drinks last night. That's a lie! You suck.
-Dear Dentist: Drilling holes in people in exchange for money is a questionable career choice. Stop the drilling. It sucks.
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Dear AT&T: $3.50 cents per minute for a 17 minute call to London? All I wanted was to tell Brandon that my grandfather passed and here you are making me pay almost $60.00. I'm grieving here, AT&T, please don't add to my pain and misery. Don't you know I'm poor? You suck.
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Dear McDonald's on 57th: No ice cream cones before 10:45 a.m. is simply just wrong. What you say? 8:30 a.m. is too early for soft serve. Tell that to my stomach, McDonald's. I dare you.
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Dear Landlord. Well, no real reason. You just suck.
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Dear Lady With The Chin Hairs at the Taco Bell Drive-Thru: Why do you always give me MILD packets of hot sauce? I said I wanted FIRE. Do you know what that is? Would you care for me to demonstrate? Not MILD, not HOT, FIRE! You suck.
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Dear Suck: You're not as cool as you think you are. You're hard to do, I get it it. But you still suck.
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Dear Lil' Wayne: Please stop carrying weapons and selling drugs. You're no good to me in jail. You suck.
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Dear Job: You blow. And suck too.
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Dear Love: I don't have time for you right now. I've told you time and time again I want to be the next George Clooney (minus the penis). You're breaking my heart, love. But I can't right now, okay? I hope you understand. Come back in a decade or so, love. Don't give up on me entirely. You suck.
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Dear Hair (Not You Bangs!): Stop being so greasy all the damn time. I don't have forty-five minutes for a daily blowdry and a girl can only wear so many buns. I'm sorry but only Bangs gets daily blowdry jobs. Those are the rules Hair, I didn't make them. You suck.
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Dear Rice & Beans With Fried Steak and Sweet Plantains: Why do you smell so good? Stop parading around that plate like you're hot stuff. You're excessive calories and shiny grease are trying to tempt me and if you don't stop this behavior right now I will be forced to eat you! I mean it Rice & Beans! Consider yourself warned. You suck.
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Dear Mother: Please stop making Rice & Beans and then telling me to lose weight. The pressure is too much to bear. You suck.-
Dear Dry Spell: Two months?! Really?! No it's not my fault. This is your fault. You suck.
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Dear Responsibilities: Just stop. You suck.
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Dear Brickbreaker: Stop butchering my productivity with your excessively alluring powers of play. I have work to do, Brickbreaker. Only one more game you say? Okay fine. But after this I'm through with you! You suck.
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Dear Mail Keys: Where did you run off to? I've looked for you everywhere and you're just plain lost. It's clear you don't love me anymore but I haven't checked my mail in months. Please come back to me. I'll buy you a keychain this time, I swear. You suck.
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Dear Sarah Jessica Parker: Sex & The City 2? Really? I thought we were homies Sarah. You've crapped all over something sacred to me and I simply cannot forgive you for that. The movie sucked, Sarah. And so do you.
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Dear Plant: Why did you die? I watered you and chit chatted almost every single day on the balcony when I could've been watching True Blood re-runs. How dare you pass out on me, Plant? You know what? You're dead to me. You suck.
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Dear 37 Pounds: Why don't you do like Plant and die? I've been trying to kill you for like, what, 8 years? This time it's personal. You're going down. That's right! You suck.
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Dear Osama bin Laden: @*(#&@*&#!!*!! #*&@!#*&@# ! !&^@*! You suck.
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Dear Headache: I cannot take the pounding anymore. The pounding in my head, that is. Get your head out of the gutter, Headache. You are in the gutter, you say? Well get out. You're not welcome here.
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Dear Wedgie: Why are you all up in my business? I was just trying to walk to my car and there you appeared. I scared you away but there you were once again at my morning meeting, and at the post office, and later on in the grocery store. Go away, Wedgie. Or else! You suck.
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Dear Laser Hair Removal: So painful. So expensive. You suck.
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Dear Cute and Possible Serial Killer Guy From Last Night: Why did you stare at me and then leave without getting my number? What? You were staring at the girl behind me? You suck, Serial Killer Guy.
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Dear Bank of America: A coffee should not cost $38.50. I only had $1.35 in my checking account? Really? Certainly there must be some misunderstanding Bank of America. You suck.
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Dear Founder of Billie's Cupcakes: Why no Miami branch? What, only New Yorkers are good enough for your delicious cupcakes? I want to speak to your manager. You are the manager you say? Okay. You suck.
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Dear Sheep #12,562: Go to sleep!
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Dear Senior Citizen Neighbor: Yes, I was naked. But does a girl really have to throw on a shirt for a two a.m. refrigerator run? I just wanted cookies, neighbor. The board of residents didn't really need to be involved. Cookies in the buff is oodles of fun and must be tried at least once before you die. Neighbor, you are running out of time. Go have cookies and take off your clothes. Almost forgot! You suck.
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Dear Jenna Dewan: You could've had any guy in the world but instead you chose to marry Channing Tatum. Didn't you know he was mine? I had my eye on him first, Jenna. You suck.
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Dear Annah: Please stop torturing your readers with stupid posts such as this one. You suck.
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Dear Reader: Did you really just read all this nonsense?

Um, you rock.

Enter The World Of Online Dating

Random Tuesday night. I' m having a glass of wine over at my friend Amy’s place when she proudly announces, “I joined a dating site!”


Oh, did you now? I thought, confusion spreading slowly through my weary but still very curious brain.


You see, Amy is a beautiful girl. And I'm not just saying beautiful-because-she's-my-friend-girl, I'm saying beautiful-as-in-just gorgeous-with-a-good-head-on-her-shoulders girl. If she needs to go on ______.com to meet people, then I'm just scared. Is this the wave of the future? And so I felt compelled to ask.

Me: Why the hell are you doing that again? (raised eyebrow)

Amy: Why do people join any dating site? They wanna fuck outside their circle. Duh!

Me: (mouth open, speechless).

Amy: Just kidding geez. I want to meet new people Annah. It’s a tough and scary world out there.

Me: Dude, this is Miami. There are literally hoards and hoards of single, available and fabulous men out there for the picking.

Amy: Please pass the weed you were smoking to me right now.

Me: I’m serious. You don’t need to go online to meet men! Who does that.

Amy: EVERYONE DOES THAT. Two out of five relationships start from online dating. Those are the statistics buddy. We’re in a new world, and I want in on the action. Sides shut up, you’re single.

Me: Well just make sure you run background checks on these people before meeting them! There are serial killers out there. They’re everywhere waiting to attack

Amy: (rolls her eyes). You’re the only person in the world who thinks everyone’s a serial killer girl. No worries, I’ll be careful. Sides… you’re going to be my wingman on every first date so I’m not worried.

Me: Great, so I get to be chopped up by some online predator and thrown in some random Miami canal for gators to devour me, AND I don’t even get to meet any guys. I call bullshit.

Amy: I’m sure they’ll have cute friends.

Me: Ummmm…. Yeah. Anyhow, have you met anyone interesting?

Amy: Not really I just started. It’s $20 a month so it’s not like it’s super expensive. If I don’t meet anyone it’s not like I broke the bank or anything.

Me: So it’s kind of like, one of these “Sponsor a Child Programs”?

Amy: Eh? What do you mean?

Me: Like, “For the cost of a cup of coffee a day, you too can make a difference in this person’s life.” In this case, you’re making your own difference. Being proactive about the whole thing.

Amy: Um, yeah, I guess. (gives me a weird look that says, “Why are we friends again?) Maybe you should put a button on your blog so that people donate to you and then you can join ______.com too! (serious as a heart attack face).

Me: Sure! That sounds like such a great idea. NOT. So... show me the studs! I want to see!

Amy: (Glowing like a mega-watt light bulb just out of it's container, pulls out her laptop and shows me the following pictures. Now don’t you worry, Amy has assured me that this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s plenty o’ hot studs to go around on the fabulous world of online dating. These are just the few that she showed me that night.)

BACHELOR# 1 – The I-purse-my-lips-in-pictures-because-it-makes-me-look-sexy guy.

BACHELOR# 2 – The I-will-take-topless-pictures-of-myself-because-I’m-so-hot guy. Oh yeah, and I love love love the bunk bed! It just screams “Come over here lover”. Don’t you think?BACHELOR#3 – The I’m-so-hot-I-can’t-resist-taking-bathroom-pictures-of-myself-with-my-cell-phone guy.
BACHELOR#4 – The I’m-way-too-cool-to-be-on-______.com-but-I’ll-still-take-a-picture-of-myself-doing-the-double-peace-sign-because-I’m-God’s-gift-to-women guy. You're welcome.
BACHELOR #5 – The I-like-to-wear-shorts-with-pink-stars-and-rubber-duckies guy. I gotta say I do love his bold fashion sense. He's like, “Bitch, I will wear the shit out of these shorts! There’s nothing you can do about it!”
BACHELOR #6 – The I-like-to-ride-a-wooden-bicycle-around-town-because-it-saves-gas guy. This dude's description read, "I like me a woman who understands that rum is the nectar of the gods and one day I will be the Mayor of Tahiti, ya savvy?" Oh wooden bicycle man, I love you. I really do.
BACHELOR #7 – The I-like-candlelight-dinners-and-long-walks-on-the-beach guy.
BACHELOR #8 – Well, he really doesn’t need an introduction. He’s just that awesome.
In essence, I think I'm now a convert and will be joining _______.com very very soon! I mean, how could I possibly resist the array of suitors out there, all ripe for the picking if you know what I mean.

I can’t. I simply just can’t.

p.s. I don't really have anything against online dating, but if you're gonna put yourself out there, it'd be nice to put your BEST self out there. These pictures above? Horrible.

p.p.s. Yes, I do think everyone is a serial killer so no, ________.com would not work out for me.

p.p.p.s. This picture was taken by one of the lovely bachelors above and as corny as it sounds. I found it pretty darling.

Seeeeee? I have a soft side too.

Becoming Famous In The 21st Century. You Can Do It Too!

As you probably know, times are a little different these days than they were a couple of decades back. In the olden days, you actually had to have talent or at least chase some sort of a career in entertainment in order to be famous. Somewhere between The Real World and The Jersey Shore came the age of these nimrods.

And everything went downhill from there.

It doesn’t take much to become a "celebrity" these days, at least not for these morons anyway. Yet I wonder, what does it really say about our society if we're allowing people like this to become famous? Do we simply enjoy laughing at them and realize the extent of their stupidity and lack of real talent? Or do we actually look up to these morons and secretly idolize them, making them stars (and millionaires) in the process.

I was on MSN messenger the other day chatting with Olivia when she asks me:

Olivia: Who are these “Pretty Wild” girls?

Me: Who?

Olivia: The girls from that show “Pretty Wild” on E!

Me: You know, I was wondering the same thing the other day. Then I did a little research and now I know, not that I’m any less confused as to why they have a television show though.

Olivia: So who are they?

Me: They are two sisters with a best friend. The mom is supposedly some ex-playmate or something and one of these airheads named Alexis, was part of the “bling ring”.

Olivia: What the fack is that?

Me: Well, it's this circle of friends accused of burgling $3 million in art, clothes and other junk from a bunch of celebs like Orlando Bloom, Megan Fox and Lindsay Lohan. Anywho, they robbed all the fuckers blind, $600,000 worth just from Orlando Bloom’s house and now they’re given a show on E! that chronicles their lives and their road to "stardom".

Olivia: Whatttttttttttttttttttt? Oh. Hell. No.

Me: Seriously girl. It doesn’t take much to become famous these days. Maybe, I should run naked down Star Island, break into Ricky Martin’s house, force him to make a sex tape with me and then saunter over to Gloria Estefan’s place, steal some shit and voila! I'll call E! and be like “Yo, I’m practically an A-lister with all the shit I just accomplished, going where no woman has gone before and all with Ricky Martin. Make me a star!"

Olivia (all serious like): Um, why haven’t you thought of this already. Your plan’s genius.

Me: I don't know, I guess it never dawned on me. lol

Olivia: Hello! I know someone who lives in Star Island. I can get you in there girl.

Me: Oh now you tell me!

If you're reading this Ricky, I am so coming for you.

Just Call Me Dr. Phill, Or Dr. Annah, Or Whatever You Like. Long As You Call Me.

So yesterday I received a letter in my rocketmail account, which was made specifically for my little blogger, and lo and behold! It was a girl. A strange girl. Asking me for relationship advice. Maybe she sent it to the wrong email address, but it said "To Annah" so I figured by some freak accident this actually was intended for yours truly. I was flattered and happy to know that someone actually thinks I have enough brain cells to answer their questions with something that’s solid and trustworthy enough to listen to. Then I decided that just because I’m single doesn’t mean I don’t have good advice to give to the world so yes! I will help this poor soul in need. Only because I’m nice. And because I’m bored. And because I’m always curious to know what people are really going through out there in the crazy world that is “being single”. I'm nice, bored, and curious. You win.

Wait. Did that make any sense?

Anyhow, I thought maybe this could be a new section on my blog but then I realized not a lot of people read it so first I need to get readers and then I could do this section. So if you’re still reading this, tell your friends and neighbors that my blog is right here and that I’ll give them advice and cupcakes for free. Especially cupcakes because I love baking even though I burn everything I ever put in an oven. And if you have any questions or concerns in regards to your relationship woes (or anything else for that matter) I’ll try my bestest to lead you down the path of righteousness (or destruction). Just say what you prefer.

For now, I’ll answer Jessie’s question.

DISCLAIMER: I will be copying and pasting any emails you send me so use your spell check! I won’t be doing it for you.

Dear Annah:

I’ve bored all my friends with this story already so I dediced it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I jus t emailed you instead. I read your blog sometimes and I think that you’re crazy, but in a funny neurotic way. Do you ever worry about men at all? I think I’d like to be that way but it’s harder when you have kids. My issue is this… I met a guy on Facebook last Thursday and he asked me out on a date for Friday night. At first I was freaked out because I don’t really date people from Facebook but he was hot so I said what the heck! He invited me to his house and we had some drinks and then like ten minutes into the movie we were at it. I felt a little slutty but hadn’t really gotten action in a while so I just let it be. Anyway, it was amazing and afterwards he was just sweet and cuddly like a little teddy bear. It seemed to me that he really liked me and I couldn't believe it because he is just so hot. I didn’t get home until five in the morning on Saturday. He called me the next day and we hung out again at his house and repeated the same thing all over. He would constantly text me sweet nothings throughout the day and I started to think that maybe this could be something. He has his own baby mama drama too but I was willing to bypass that if it was the real deal. On Monday night we hooked up and on Tuesday he wanted to see me again but I said no because I was busy with my kids. Fast Forward to Wednesday morning. I get an email from my best friend Katie saying that he had emailed her on Facebook telling her that he thought she was sexy! Can you believe this guy? The worse part is that my Facebook default picture is of ME AND MY BEST FRIEND. How could someone be so cruel? What should I do? The sex was so good I want to pretend like I don't know anything, but I’m not sure. Why would he say all those nice things and tell me that he had never had such great sex and that he missed me? Explain please. I’m desparate.

Waiting impatiently,
Jessica
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Dear Jessie,

Can I call you that? Jessie? I think I can.

So Jessie, I’m sure you’re not the first or last person that this has happened to. I have strict rules about dating people I meet online but that’s because I’m weird so let me try and be open minded about your quandary.

First of all, you didn’t state what your current relationship status (no pun intended) is but I’m sure that “it’s complicated” or whatever. Here’s my take on it. You thought dude was cute and then he was great in bed so you had basically struck cyber gold, right? Which then turned into real gold once you both stepped away from your computers and started the lol-ing in person.

I’ll go step by step with the mistakes you made and you take it from there, hmmkay? For starters…. Why did you go to his house on the first date? We all know what, “Just come over and we’ll hang out” really means. Don’t play that naïve card with me girlfriend. Unless you’re under 18, and if you are then you really shouldn’t be reading this blog, but if you're gonna do it anyway, then you heard this info here, hot off the presses. First dates are in public places for a reason hon’ bear, so get out there and let him take you out to dinner. If he pays, brownie points for him. If he orders you dessert and smiles while you eat it then double brownie points with fugde on top.

Secondly, if you went over, did you really have to give it all up right then and there? You could’ve fooled around and had some fun without the whole sha-bang taking place within less than 24 hours of meeting the guy. What if he was some psychopath? Or a serial killer? Or worse off, a Republican! Just kidding about that one. Anyway, you need to get to know this person before you give away "the cookie". In the cookie lies the power and if he eats the cookie within the first try then all your power's gone. All he’s going to do is eat that cookie and shit it out and move on to the next cookie. Sorry but it’s true. Unless he’s one of these psycho clingy guys who hasn’t had a cookie in a really long time and then he’ll become addicted to your cookie and that’s even worse. Either way, you lose.

You thought he liked you because he was calling and texting you all the time? Anyone with a cell phone and fingers can do that my love. So maybe he was texting you at the same time he was texting Carrie, Janie, Marcia, and Christina. Maybe, he was even forwarding the same messages to all the girls he's seeing. Mass texting isn't just for holidays anymore you know? Don’t put it past a man to do something like that. Sorry hun bun but that’s just the way they’re built. You can’t swim against the current that has been flowing the same way since mankind existed.

The way I see it, there’s only two things to do here. 1) You cut him off cold turkey and take a valuable lesson with you for the next time. Or 2) you continue to see him all the while knowing what a total douche-sack he is and wondering how many girls he’s bringing to his raggity apartment on the nights you’re not there.

He said the nice things because he thought that would keep you coming back for more. It worked didn't it? So he's not as dumb as he looks (thanks for the picture by the way). Going forward, you have to be smarter and not put yourself out there so easily dah-ling. Get to know people first, feel them out (not literally), see what they’re all about, what relationships they’ve been in, what their friends are like, what they want from the future, etc. If he’s single and has twenty kids he doesn’t pay child support for, that’s a problem. If his baby momma hates him, that’s a problem. If his friends party every weekend and are only looking “to bang hoes”, that’s a problem. Remember, people can say whatever they want, but it’s the choices they make, the people they surround themselves with, and their actions in life that mean business.

Good luck! And write whenever you want. I love giving advice, I’ll totally do it for free. Wait, this is free.

Kisses and cupcakes,
Annah
p.s. There’s always that third option if you’re up for the challenge….. Find out who his best friend is and if he’s cute, take him out for a spin. Wear condoms and happy hunting girlfriend!

Facebook Etiquette

Dear Timmy:

I woke up this Sunday morning in hopes of wishing everyone a Happy Mother's day prior to cleaning my place and hanging out with my mom when I was greeted by something unusual on my welcome page. This had never actually happened to me before so imagine the shock when I started scrolling down and all I saw were status updates from Timmy Martinez, Timmy Martinez, Timmy Martinez.... Fuck's going on? I thought. I know you're not my only friend! After making sure that my friends hadn't all died or been abducted by aliens, I went into your page to see what this madness was all about.

Now Timmy.... I think you and I need to have a little talk (and this is for your own good I swear). Let me break down some Facebook rules for you hmmkay? You gotta be in the know Timmy because this is just getting dangerous and let me just tell you that you're not doing yourself any favors buddy. Trust.

Rule #1.
You cannot post more than five status updates per hour. That's just not normal. If this is indeed what you want to do then you’re in the wrong social network system. Your ass needs to go to Twitter. Here's the website. http://www.twitter.com/

Rule #2.
No one (not even your mommy) wants to know your deepest and darkest thoughts, or any of your personal business for that matter; so just keep it to yourself pal. Let's review some of your most enlightening posts shall we?

See.....? I am okay with your ranting once a day, but when you post 49 status updates (yes I counted) in 24 hours, that's just crazy. You're making my eyes bleed. Which brings me to my next point.

Rule #3.
The "Like" button is there for your friends to click on it, if indeed, they like what you've written. I'm sure you consider yourself your own best friend and all, but amigo, you cannot "like" your own status. That's just crazy. Please see below in red. Rule #4.
But even worse than liking your own status my little Timmy, is commenting on your own status, BEFORE ANYONE ELSE HAS COMMENTED ON IT. You have to wait... I know your speedy little fingers are just dying to click like or comment on the wise philosophy you've just imparted with the world, but you can't. You simply, CAN'T. You have to exert some deep inner strength and wait for people to comment.

Alright Timmy I hope this helped. I gotta run now and delete you from my “friends” list. Hope you're having a wonderful day.

Your ex-Facebook friend,
Annah

Love Thy Neighbor

Dear Neighbor:

I’ve been pondering on the basis of our so called relationship as of late and decided I’ve had enough of your selfishness. I’ve been feeling very unappreciated by your behavior and am bound by honor to get some things off my chest. I’m just gonna come right out and say it so bear with me okay?

I don’t appreciate it when you leave half eaten onions and green peppers on the lawn that we share. Is it that the ten steps to the garbage is too much for your lazy ass to cross? Or are you some sort of witch who’s discretely trying to do voodoo on me?

This brings me to my next point. Why won't you ever take out the garbage? I know I took it out once for you when I first moved here in an act of neighborliness, but that was almost two years ago and believe me when I say that wasn’t code for “I’m-your- bitch-and-will-take-out-your-garbage-every-Monday-and-Thursday”.

Let's be honest. The gin bottles strewn all over the lawn are totally uncalled for. I have no issues with you "getting your party on" Tuesday nights, but I detest picking them up after you Wednesday mornings, especially when the bottles are empty! I mean, if you’re going to leave them on the lawn, at least leave a little for me. By the way, I know your son is the culprit who smokes weed on my steps every Friday and Saturday night (yet another thing you ingrates choose not to share, the weed that is). Yet you have no qualms about sharing an excess of Dorito chips and pork rinds, which you so kindly leave all over the staircase leading up to my place. I know I’m a fattie and all, but my obsession with food hasn’t had me eating it off the floor (well there was that one time but I was really hungry and heavily under the influence of vodka).

I find it's my duty to tell you your daughter has sex in that beat up blue car almost every night 'round midnight, precisely when I take my dogs down for their last peepee and poopy fest of the day. I wouldn’t really mind it all that much except that they insist on keeping the windows down (I assume the car has no air conditioning) and I’m forced to listen to their panting and grunting, being reminded oh-so-painfully of the sex I am not having.

I think that sums it up, but if I remember anything else I’ll be sure to let you know.

Oh yeah! Please keep your wigs/weave/extensions and all other hair attachments to yourself. As a proud owner of clip ons, I can certainly understand the benefits, but let me assure you they are not meant to go anywhere but your head. The roof of my car, the grass, and yes, eventually my dogs’ mouth are not the places for it. Putting on gloves to pry someone else’s greasy hair out of Bruno’s mouth is not how I envision my Saturday mornings.

Anyhow, I was going to tape this letter anonymously to your door, but I figured that you’d quickly realize who it was from and come for me. I’m too chickenshit to actually do it and even if I tried to call the cops it wouldn’t do me any good, because as I just realized a few weeks back, you are a cop. I guess that means I’m f*cked and this whole thing was pointless.

Anyhow, gotta run now and take out the garbage (yours too of course).

Your loving neighbor,
Annah

My Friends

I'm aware that my mind doesn’t function as discretely as everyone else’s, yet I can assure it has nothing to do with me and all to do with the crazy people I surround myself with. Maybe if my friends were normal, then my thoughts would resemble those of a standard human being instead of someone who at times belongs in an asylum.

Behold, five random conversations between myself and people I love:

Brick
Annah: You’re coming to that party on Saturday right?

Brick: Where is it again?

Annah: Mark’s house.

Brick: Who’s that?

Annah: You know, the guy that wears the green contacts and drives a Mercedes.

Brick: Oh! Ha! (chuckles) That douchebag. (rolls his eyes) The one with the really hairy chest that keeps his top buttons always open right?

Annah: He doesn’t have a hairy chest! (laughing and pretending to be confused).

Brick: Dude what the hell are you talking about? The first time I saw that guy all I wanted to do was buy a hair net and put it on top of his shirt. I can’t believe you weren’t thinking the same thing. Fuckin’ nasty.

Penelope
Penelope: I think I’m in love with this guy I met at the supermarket yesterday.

Annah: Um, what?

Penelope: I met this guy at Publix yesterday and I seriously think he may be the one. He is so cutesy! Omg.

Annah: Okay….. weird but okay.

Penelope: Don’t be so damn cynical Annah. Ever heard of love at first sight?

Annah: No, don’t think I have. Refresh my memory.

Penelope: (shoots me a stony look) Anyhow, we have a date tomorrow night. He’s purr-fect. Except this one little thing.

Annah: Ha! Spill it.

Penelope: He has this nasty mole right in between his eyebrows. Kind of like Enrique Iglesias but not sexy. Every time I look at it, I just think about grabbing my dad’s machete from the backyard and chopping it off.

David

Over dinner one night…

Annah: So this girl Martha (fake name) posted yet another status update on her Facebook talking about her kids and what they did today for school. I’m sorry but I really don’t give three shits if little Timmy learned his abc’s today and you baked him a banana muffin with coconut frosting and sprinkles as a reward.

David: Ha! Martha? She’s a certified nut job. I had it out with that girl on Facebook.

Annah: What do you mean?

David: She kept on posting these stupid things like “My hubby and are going to eat dinner tonight at TGIFriday’s” or “It’s Saturday night so the hubby and I are going to have a cuddlefest on the couch.”

Annah: (Margarita squirting out of my nose).

David: So I replied to her post and said, “Sometimes, I just want to grab a ballpoint pen and stab you in the neck with it, to then proceed and have a cuddlefest with your dead body. Now that would make a perfect Saturday night.”

Annah: You didn’t?

David: Ya’, I did. Then she deleted me from her friends.

Jack

Jack: I got the package! Excited to see what it is.

Annah: Oooh! Open open! You’re going to love it.

Rustling of papers as he opens the box and takes out the Botero-style figurine I shipped him as a graduation present.

Jack: Um, why did you send me a fat naked lady? What is this?

Annah: It’s a Botero figurine babe. What do you think?

Jack: A who?

Annah: Jack! Please say you’re joking and you know who Botero is. What kind of a friggin’ doctor are you going to be that you don’t know who that is?!

Jack: Sorry babe I’m not really up to date with my “naked fat people” art.

Annah: (exasperated sigh) Well, it’s a very famous Colombian artist whose work is reknowned because of these overweight people. It’s sort of his thing babe.

Jack: Oooookay. Well uh, thanks baby (forced tone of happiness).

Annah: You don’t like it?

Jack: I do, I just thought you’d send me something more my style. Where am I going to find a place for a fat naked lady with pearls at my loft?

Annah: Shut up! You’re such an idiot sometimes you know that? (aggressively getting defensive) Botero is a ninja! You’re just totally uncultured because all you do is read books on how to cut people’s heads and put them back together.

Jack: A ninja? I thought ninjas had to be able to climb walls and shit. No way could she do that! Well, maybe if there was an ice cream truck on the other side or something.

Annah: I’m hanging up now! (Laughing so hard tears are streaming down my face, although I won’t admit that to him).

Marcus

We’re hanging at a gay bar and I'm trying my best to keep an eye out for any straight cuties, even though Marcus swears no straight man would ever be caught dead in a place like this. This beautiful boy has been looking at me for the past ten minutes as I’ve been chatting up Marcus at the bar, his bulging biceps and perfectly sculpted chest are totally giving me an LL Cool J vibe. I’ve been smiling back trying to look as alluring as possible with my toussled bed head and dark lined eyes, framed by my signature false eyelashes.

Annah: Ooh look at that guy over there!

Marcus: Which one?

Annah: The one right there with the black button down shirt. (pointing discretely in his direction) He’s been staring at me for the longest! (getting uberly excited).

Marcus: Oh that’s Leonardo. He is so ovah! Hot!

Annah: Yes he is. Yummy yum.

Marcus: And guuuuuurl, he is hung like a horse! Only that, babe? He’s not looking at you. He’s looking at the drag queen standing right behind you.

Oh Mah Gah Mondays: Exposed Va Jay Jay Edition

This Saturday we indulged in a little dancing at Macondo on SoBe and this cougarlicious lady below felt the need to humor us with a little bar top dancing session. All of her goodies were hanging out while she sashayed down the bar as if it were a Milan catwalk (and I did my bestest not to throw up my red bull and vodka all over my brand new shoes). YUCK!

Excuse me ma'am? But no sober soul in this town wants to see all that, especially when they're drinking. Keep your va jay jay to yourself in public missy! Biggest don't of the week, so Happy Monday everyone.