Archive | October, 2011

Happy Halloween! I Never Should Have Watched That Movie.

31 Oct

 

That cat just cracks me up…

So yesterday, in honor of the holiday, I decided to put on my big girl panties and watch a scary movie.  Alone.  At night.  In my house.  So very alone.  I hate scary movies.  With a passion.  I seriously dislike being scared.  I like thrills…like rollercoasters, adrenaline rushes, etc.  But if someone jumps out and scares me, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.  Most of the time I punch…it’s a reaction…

I’ve really been wanting to see 1408.  My brother had assured me that it wasn’t scary, and if I happened to get scared-it was irrefutable proof I was a pussy.  So after the sun went down, I started a fire in the ‘place, and settled in for the movie.  Here is what I learned, a la Thoughtsy

  • I never should watch a scary movie.  Alone.  At night.
  • If your radio spontaneously plays ‘We’ve Only Just Begun’, you better damn well believe you’ve only just begun.
  • I should always listen to Samuel L. Jackson.
  • The only way to kill evil spirits is to burn them.  Which makes absolutely no sense to me because there is nothing to burn…
  • Alcohol helps us deal with everything.
  • Evil spirits know how to use Skype.  We are all screwed.
  • John Cusack does not age.  Maybe because he keeps living the same hour over and over again?

So after I was done watching this, several things happened in my house.

  • I paused live TV, which I can do, but it kept unpausing itself.  THAT has never happened.
  • I was using my microwave when the lights suddenly went out on the display.
  • My brother called me a pussy.

I do not believe in ghosts, but I am now convinced I live in a haunted house.  I asked Will to pay for an exorcism, and he told me to lay off the heroin.  I’m so glad I can count on him if I become possessed…

Lesson learned.  No more scary movies.

Love, Esme

 

 

#3

31 Oct

Yep, call number three just happened. I may have to call the police tonight…

Love, E

You Have GOT To be Kidding Me

31 Oct

So I’m in bed, at 1:06 this am, and my phone lights up.  I don’t recognize the number, so I send it to voice mail.  Guess who it is.  That’s right, Douche Dumpster.

He did wind up sending a text to me earlier today, apologizing for his actions.  I’m a bad drunk, my friend died, I understand you don’t want to talk to me anymore.

I never answered.  Damn right I’m not talking to him anymore.

So back to 1:06am.  Phone sings P!nk.  I ditch it.  Message left.

‘This is Staff Seargent Douche.  (which I believe is an enlisted position, but whatevs).  You should want to sleep with me.  So my friend dies, and I apologize, and you still won’t talk to me.  That makes you kind of a bitch.  How much do I have to apologize?  My friend DIED.  He’s dead.  And you won’t talk to me.’  Blah blah blah.

And wouldn’t you know it…while I typed that above paragraph, he called and left another message.  This one said that he will not be talking to me anymore, and he will talk to me later.  I’m guessing he is drunk…again…

Don’t get me wrong…it sucks his friend died.  But that does not give anyone a right to harass me.  His actions the last two nights are fucking ridiculous.

Guess who is going to the police department tomorrow morning.

Love, Esme

 

Definition of Douche Dumpster

30 Oct

n.-A man-boy who is unaware of how to act in any given situation.  A douche that needs a bigger container to contain all of his huge douchiness.  Example-This guy is the biggest douche dumpster for his actions last night.

See where this is going?

So I haven’t been on a date in a couple of weeks.  Had a few things on my plate.  However, I have maintained the internet dating profile on the off-chance I meet someone worth giving a shot.  This douche dumpster sounded good-in theory.  But he quickly slid down a steep slope.

Douche (I’m starting to feel like an episode of South Park) and I wrote back and forth for a few days before he asked me for my number.  I am always so hesitant to give out that information, but what the hell.  He seemed really nice.  Now keep in mind, this was only two days ago.

Last night around midnight, Douche started texting me.  I told him I am going to bed.  Here is what follows…text verbatim.

D: So how long are we going to be text buddies without talking?
E: Good question 🙂 tomorrow evening works well for me.
D: You have a timeline?  Is this the movie Swingers?
E: No timeline.  I’m going to bed, and I am busy most of the day tomorrow.
D: I meant talking on the phone.  Like tonight.  Weirdo.
E: Got it.  I’m going to bed, and I am busy tomorrow day.
D: (12:08am) There should be a team called excuses so you could wear their jersey.
D: (2:48am) I gotta tell you Alpha Douche is pretty pissed.  I might have gone to war but I was still in ROTC for my first year of college.  I’ve been an officer since 02.
D: (2:49am) 327th Battalion.  Airborne Ranger, and I’m a fucking officer.
D: (2:49am) You have something to hide.
D: (2:50am) Why would I think an M4 was an MP5? (He is referring to the picture I have where I am shooting the rifle).
D: (2:51am) An MP5 uses a handgun .45 acp.
D: (2:51am) You were firing .223.
3:33am-phone call.
3:57am-phone call, with a 1.5 minute message, where he accuses me of being a guy instead of a girl.
5:08am-phone call.
5:34am-phone call.

After the text messages, I turned my phone on silent, so I was not aware of the phone calls until I woke up this morning.  Stalker much?!?  I was going to ignore the texts, but I decided to send a response this morning.  For your reading pleasure…

E: 1. ‘Alpha Douche’ is a dick.  Glad I got to meet him.  2. I most definitely am not a guy.  3. I was firing an M4A1 with a 10 inch barrel instead of the standard 14.5.  Since you are an officer, I am sure you know what special force that gun is made for.  4. I was firing 5.56mm NATO rounds, not .223.  5. I could give a shit that you are an officer if you don’t act like one.  Lose my number.  If I get any further contact from you, I will consider it harassment and file a police report immediately.  Your move.

So far, no response.  If he knows what is good for him, he won’t.  I have every intention of following through with my threat.

But I would like to thank Douche for reaffirming why I love being single.  I am going to stick with awesome sex with Medic for the time being  😉

Much love, Esme

I feel like this applies to my dating life as well…

Another Beautiful Night!!

28 Oct

So who cares if I have put dating completely on hold the last couple of weeks.  It’s all been worth it because…

THE CARDINALS WON THE WORLD SERIES!!!  Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wild card win.

Comeback from Game 6 deficit.

A team that plays well together.

Walk-off solo home run by Freese.

A phenomenal hitting coach.

A fantastic manager.

All of this equals…

11 World Series titles.

Eeeee-lllleeeeee-vvveeeennnnn.

Hells-to-the-muthafuckin’-yeah.

Love, Esme

A Beautiful Day

28 Oct

image

Girls, it’s an awesome night. Why is that Esme, you ask. Well, I will tell you.

The Cardinals just forced a game seven!! Rally Squirrel!!! Aaahhhh!!

I aged ten years watching that game…

Love, Esme

I. Love. Sports.

23 Oct

 

 

 

I love sports.  I really do.  I probably should be a dude in that respect.  I’ve had guys stop dating me because I corrected their incorrect sports stats.  Pussies.  I’ve had guys get mad because I want to go watch Da Bears play on Sundays at our local sports bar.  Pussiesx2.  M once told me that I would never find a guy who would put up with my sports fanaticism.  Pussyx100.  I’m not saying someone needs to be as in love with sports as I am (even though it would be nice), but they do need to appreciate the fact that my day and/or night may revolve around my team being in the World Series.  Or the fact my team may be working for Lord Stanley’s favor.  Or anytime the great franchise that was once ruled by the great Ditka  is on TV.  (Ditka versus a hurricane…who would win??)

These guys just need to learn how to DEAL.

Favorite Kings player EVER-Kelly Hrudey.  Uh-May-Zing.

It’s Rally Squirrel time!!

Daaaaaaa Bears Da Bears Da Bearsssssssss.I am IN LOVE with my Blackhawks.  Just…in love.  Hey look…I do have the capacity to love!!  And I don’t even have a ‘Hawks jersey…I need to rectify that one!

Much love, Esme.