Why hello there, stranger

Nothing really exciting happens in my life anymore. I don't go out boozing and making out with strangers like I was this time last year (and the year before that, and the year before that). I work, I coach and use the 2 extra hours I have in the week to see family, friends and the fella. Needless to say, I have a lot less of those "oh man, what the hell was your name?" instances than I used to (some think that is a good thing, I on the other hand, am not so sure).

A few weeks back I had a half day for Good Friday. You would have thought I was escaping prison as quickly as I ran out of my office. Once 2 o'clock hit I was instantly in "See-ya suckers" mode and ready to sit on my couch with a glass of wine and relax for an hour or so before Elle got home from work. I could almost taste the chardonnay (wait, that sounds dirty) by the time I got out of the parking structure.

FREEEEEEDOM!!!!!!!

Red light. Dammit! Foiled again! Just as the light turns green one of those double buses stops right in the middle of the intersection, blocking me and the many others I have been waiting with. Why do the Red Light Gods hate me so much??

As I slam my head repeatedly against my steering wheel in hopes that it will either knock me out or cause such a commotion that people get out of my way so I can drive the 2 miles home in peace I glanced up to see someone was upstaging me. Who does this guy think he is??

The bus doors opened and some dude stumbled from the seats onto the platform, almost slamming his head against the windshield. I know what you're thinking, "who the hell takes the bus in LA??" Not me, I pollute the air one over priced gallon of gas at a time. Hello carbon footprint!

I take off my sunglasses to get a better look at this guy and suddenly I am in love. The way he was dressed sold me in 2.2 seconds flat.

Dirty old chucks, untied and half off?

Check.

Sweat pants AND jeans on but only around the ankles?

Check. Check!

Old, raggedy boxers that are one washing away from becoming his cars new gas cap?

Oh, you guessed it, CHECK!

-swoon-

This guy was awesome. Not only did he have the 2 pairs of pants he was wearing at the same time around his ankles but, as I made my way up I could tell by the fact that his eyes were banging together and that he was swaying back and forth that he was waaaay beyond hammered.

What was this guy doing that he was this drunk at 2 in the afternoon? And why are we not madly in love? Both questions baffle me to this day.

After my future husband stumbled off the step of the bus and out onto busy Wilshire Boulevard, I figured the incident was over. But, ohhhhh how I was wrong. He started walking towards the back of the bus when he suddenly stopped, put one hand up on the side of the bus, dropped his boxers and started peeing. Everyone on the bus now has their faces plastered up against the windows, phones out, no one can believe what they are seeing. Then, midstream, the guy falls over onto the street but never breaks stream! He is still peeing! Laying in the middle of Wilshire, butt naked in the middle of the afternoon. This guy is going places!

Like the slammer.

Heyyoo!

After 30 seconds of him in the middle of the street relieving himself the bus driver gets out to help him to the sidewalk. I couldn't help but feel bad for the bus driver as he gingerly picked the guy up by his shirt carefully maneuvering around the constant stream. Then as the guy stood up...there it was. The frank and beans, the twig and berries, sly and his family stones, get it? I saw his package. Did I mention he was still peeing?

As you could imagine the look of shock on my face was evident to all around me, but no one noticed because they too were experiencing flaccid full frontal before their afternoon cocktail. The unfortunate bus driver finally got the dude to the sidewalk, plopped him down, uttered the words "get your shit together, man" just before the light turned green and we were on our way. As I drove off the guy just sat there, ass hang out, swaying back and forth, still peeing.

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I know, I get it. I understand that I haven't posted since November 10th. Let me explain myself so you can understand why. Who the hell wants to read a relationship blog? Not me! I started this blog about my crazy dating adventures and drunken debauchery, I highly doubt anyone wants to read about how the fella and I got take out and watched the NFL draft! That being said, I will try to blog about the fun things that happen in my life but in no way, shape or form will this turn into something that it shouldn't be: boring.

It's true...

...your blog does become lame when:

a. You have a new job that takes up most of your time.
b. You are in a new relationship.
c. You volunteer too much so you have no free time to write.
d. All of the above.

I am going with: D. All of the above.

So since my blog has gone lame I bring you:

Awkward Moments In A New Relationship (Part 1):

On Saturday Beardsy, the new fella and I all headed to the beach to celebrate Clumsy's birthday. After making the fella (not sure why I choose to call him "fella", but I like it) prove his worth to Beardsy and Clumsy we grabbed some delicious MSG filled take out from a local Chinese restaurant.

Besides bloating and the urge to eat again 30 minutes later, what else comes with Chinese food besides fortune cookies?

Fella: What does yours say?
Chardsy: Blah blah pass the wine.
Fella: Pass the wine should be your fortune.
Chardsy: What does yours say?
Fella: -cracks open cookie-
...
...
...
Chardsy: What?
Fella: uhhmm...
Chardsy: Oh you have to tell me!
Fella: Ohhh ok. "You or the person you are with will be married within a year."
Chardsy:....
Fella:...
Chardsy: I love wine.

An Open Letter to the Los Angeles Department of Transportation

Dear Los Angeles Department of Transportation,

I must say kudos to you. Kudos to you and all of your Meter Maids, you all do an amazing job. I mean, who else has anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon than troll the residential streets of Los Angeles to tow away cars? One Meter Maid at a time, you are doing your part to reconcile this tarnished economy that we live in. Oh, one inch in he red? Yes, please give that person a hundred dollar ticket. Well down meter maid, well done.

I would like to pay special thanks to that Parking Official who was trolling around the area just outside of West Hollywood on Saturday. You, my friend, are amazing. Doing your "civic duty" of cruising the streets in order to make unsuspecting people pay exboritant fines for maybe parking in a place they shouldn't only because you know they can't afford to take the time off work to fight your bull shit ticket in court so you can meet your monthly quota, makes you a hero. It really does.

On Saturday afternoon when I walked out of my friend's, house keys in hand, and saw that my car was no longer where I had left it, I assumed it was stolen. After many many hours dealing with your bureaucratic, red tape, bull shit, I found out that my car had been towed due to a ten dollar fix it ticket. Ohhh you guys, you love to take money from the poor, you republicans you (I love Arnold, no really, come'er get in the choppa!!).

But, LA DOT, you didn't fail me. Yes, you towed my car. Yes, you impounded it on a "holiday weekend" so I would have to pay an extra day's fees at the tow yard. But, what you didn't do is make me (someone who was unemployed for almost 3 months who took a job that pays her less than unemployment did so she could get back to the career she wanted to be in) have to and pay a ridiculous amount of money in order for you to hold my car. Oh, wait. I'm sorry, you did. My bad. I forgot that I always have an extra $700 in my bank, especially after being unemployed.

DOT, can I call you that? I don't care, I'm going to anyways. DOT. Ohhhh DOT. After dealing with that kind lady downtown today I thought you guys weren't so bad. I actually had a slight smile on my face as I was being driven to my impounded car this morning, if that is even possible. As Captain TowYard drove me in his adorable little golf cart a half mile away to where my car was stored, I thought our relationship was over. I was ready to kiss you goodbye DOT and say so long. But, no. No. You must always get the last word, you're childish that way.

When I finally got to my car, my precious car that I had been without for almost 3 full days, all I could say is "Are you fisting my ass??"* I walked up to the precious automobile and saw not 1, not 2 but 3, 3 tickets!!! Oh DOT how you add insult to injury. Not only did you tow my car and make me spend $700 that I didn't have but you also gave me over $100 in tickets that are invalid!

In closing, I would like to say that I, gladly, will see you in court. I, unlike the masses, will take the time off from my uber low paying job to fight you. But, thank you, thank you for making me max out all of my credit cards. I am sure Capitol One will send you a thank you note for all of the maxed out fees they will be getting from me in the coming months.

xoxo-gossip girl...err chardsy...dammit I gave away my identity!

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*During an IM convo with SO he exclaimed "are you fisting my ass!" I found it so funny that it became part of my normal vernacular.

New Work = New Friends

Every new job comes with certain obstacles. You might have a bad bass, you might have a jealous coworker or you might be highly under qualified for the position. Happily for me, none of the above are an issue (for now). However, a very unique obstacle did come up right after I was offered the job.

While Rs27 and I were enjoying some beers and playing the game "Gay, Straight or Douche", my phone buzzed and alerted me that Jane had requested me to be her Facebook friend (if you don't link back let me just say that she is the girl who helped me get my new job). Normally I would accept this without hesitation. The only thing that made me pause was the fact that well, she is my Booty Call's current girlfriend (that link brings you to a funny story yet does not go into our friendship at all).

...
...
...

Soak it in? Ok, let's move on. Granted, I cut all things off with him when I knew he got back together with her (and no, Jane and I did not know one another before this) but I couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, this girl just helped me land a job back in a part of the industry I really wanted to be back in. She couldn't know, right?

I accepted her friend request and sent her an email that pretty much said "You are the greatest person ever! I owe you many drinks. See you next week for training. Have a good weekend!"

I thought that was nice, nonchalant, whatever. While Rs27 and I continued to play our game of "Gay, Straight or Douche" - which is the best game to play while drinking in a highly populated area at 4 in the afternoon - my phone buzzed alerting me to a new email.

NEW EMAIL FROM JANE:

Hey girl! I am so glad you got the job! You and John will get along great. I will see you on Wednesday and we will go over everything - and maybe compare notes on something else??


Ho.Lee.Shit.

I instantly texted BC.

Chardsy: Yo. Uhmm, so does Jane know about "things"?
BC: Well, actually...she does.
Chardsy: Oh, sweet sassy molassy.

Later that night I emailed Jane back:

Thanks again! Looks like next week just got a whole lot more interesting!


Oh holy balls, what did I get myself into???

It Took Me 11 Weeks To Find You

I have an intense case of the jitters going on. I can't keep still, I am constantly giggling when there is nothing funny going on and I can't stop smiling. No, I am not in love...

I got a job!!

It only took 11 weeks, or 10 days shy of 3 months, for me to finally hear the words "we really would like you to be a part of our team."

I was shocked it took that long. When I my last show wrapped and I opted not to return to that company I honestly thought it would take only a few weeks. I would spend my time exercising, hanging with friends and sunning myself while everyone slaved away in the real world.

I started going on interview after interview and I thought they all went really well. When the companies came back to me with "we think you're overqualified" instead of "we want you to start immediately" I was pretty surprised. That is, until last week.

I had been looking into getting back to the part of the industry I belong in, the funny side. When I hastily left the funny business a year ago I vowed to never go back. It wasn't the business that I had a problem with, it was my boss. She seriously might be the spawn of the devil. Just ask SO, he worked there too. After a series of demeaning nicknames, being denied a small raise (after I brought in over a cool million in profit) to make my wage livable, things I never want to mention and being told to get my "20 year old tits" away from her, I left. I left for a bigger salary, 0% stress and none of the bullshit. I soon realized the path I took, while more lucrative, might not have been right for me, I needed to be back in the funny.

Last week I was in the middle of an interview when the guy who would be my boss started telling me about how he had talked to a bunch of people about me. Mind you, his assistant got my resume and handed it off to him so I hadn't even given him my list of references.

John: So Chardsy, I have talked to many many people about you.
Chardsy: Already? I hope you didn't take any of them seriously!
John: Haha! Well, Jane [his assistant] thinks you are amazing. Bill and Brenda think rainbows shoot out of your ass.
Chardsy: Hahaha! They are the best.
John: Then I talked to Sad Clown [the ex-boss]
Chardsy: Oh?

My stomach tightened, throat went dry and every muscle in my body went tight. Million thoughts raced through my head. Would she say something bad? How could she my work was amazing? Well, she is Sad Clown. But, I did nothing wrong, I kicked ass while I was there. She can't give me a bad review because she doesn't like me as a person!

John: Oh yeah. She had some not so kind things to say about you.
Chardsy: -jaw drops-
-flames shoot from eyes-
-smoke billows out of ears-
Chardsy: Is that so?
John: She was very forthcoming with me. Said you would be a risky hire.
Chardsy: Wow. Wow. John, I am honestly shocked.
John: Well, to tell you the truth, I hate that woman. So her not liking you might actually work in your favor.

A few hours after my interview John called me to set up an interview with him and the president for Friday morning. Worried about how the pres would interpret Sad Clown's comments about me Elle and I went through (bottles of wine) different ways to spin it without me having to say "she is a raging bitch!" and jump out of the penthouse window.

I arrived to John's office Friday morning early so we could go over a game plan. Once he got off the phone we got right to it.

Chardsy: How badly did Sad Clown's comments hurt my chances?
John: Well, I talked to Brenda more about you yesterday.
Chardsy: You did?
John: You should really hire that woman to be your publicist. She gushed about you. I also told her what Sad Clown had to say. After she threw out a C-bomb about her she told me everything. She told me what Sad Clown did to you, the names she called you, everything.
Chardsy: Ohhhhh...thank God! I couldn't say anything Wednesday because it was inappropriate.
John: Yeah.
Chardsy: Time and a place.
John: Exactly. So let's just say, nothing Sad Clown said will effect you here.

Later that day John called me and offered me the job. While we discussed the details and I jumped up and down in the middle of a restaurant lobby (Rs27 and I were doing some quality day drinking before heading to a movie), I realized that I didn't get any of the jobs before because of Sad Clown. She had bad mouthed me all over town.

John: I am really excited about this Chardsy. Let's get out there and prove to people how great we are, and especially one person in particular.

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I'm back everyone! I have a bunch to write (including but not limited to getting many drinks with the one and only Pistols at Dawn) about right now so stay tuned.

Sender Beware

There are certain times in life when you get that "uh oh" feeling. You know the feeling all too well.

All of a sudden you feel guilty, shameful and embarrassed all at once. It usually happens because you accidentally assumed a woman was pregnant when she isn't, anytime you say sir instead of ma'am and well, you basically make yourself out to be a complete jackass.

I now bring you my 3 favorite Chardsy "oh oh" moments.

1. Elle was at work desperately trying to get out of going to Orange County to hang with some of our high school friends. Via IM I told her to make work the bad guy (it always works).

Chardsy: Just say you have to work. Dude, it always works.
Elle: Good call.

Elle tells her OC friend that she has to work and gets out of the plans and proceeds to IM "me" about it.

Elle: Phew! Got out of those shit plans tonight! Woo hoo!
Elle: Chardsy? You there?
OC Friend: Uhmm??? Just what did you get out of??

Shit. Damn you wrong IM!!

2. Back in my days of me actually working I had some amazing coworkers whom I would go to lunch with everyday. One day we got into a discussion about how a certain client was rumored around the industry to be "well endowed".

After lunch we all went back to our normal routines but, less than 15 minutes later said client walked into the office.

Client: Hey Chardsy!
Chardsy: Hey you! (laughing uncontrollably inside)

The second he walked away I turned back to my computer to IM my coworker Tracy.

Chardsy: Talk about speak of the devil! I wonder how big it is??
...
...
...
Chardsy: hello???
...
...
TravelAgent: Chardsy?? What??

Oh shit. I accidentally IM'd my company travel agent instead of Tracey!!

Think quick.

Chardsy: Ohh.....
...
...
Chardsy: Big blow out over here. Thought I IM'd Tracy. Wanted to know how big the blow out was. Sorry!
TravelAgent: Yeah, that happens a lot over there. Hope everything is ok!

3. Elle was at work the other day and her boss was cleaning out his inbox.

Boss: So...Elle..
Elle: Yeah boss?
Boss: Remember when you came in for your interview?
Elle: Of course.
Boss: Remember how you sent me resumes for PA's?
Elle: Yeah, it was part of my "thank-you-follow-up" email.
Boss: Well....you sent me a resume of a great PA . But...you also sent me this....

The Hallmark Channel Will Never Take Love Stories From My Life

*This post might make me look like the biggest asshole in the world. And by might I mean it probably will.
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Last weekend I was at a house party (because while on a job-diet those are the only parties you can go to) and I had the following conversation with a very charming man:

Man: You must ruin men.
Chardsy: What happened to men? I mean real men.
(please notice there was free booze at this party)
Man: What do you mean?
Chardsy: You know what I mean. A guy who can change your flat tire and kill the spider that is crawling on the wall. What happened to those guys?

This conversation was one that resonated deep for me. That Man and I talked for hours about what happened to the manly men that once were.

Man: Why do you think men aren't the way they were?
Chardsy: I am not really sure. Maybe it is because of the last guy I dated.

This brought me to a story to which I was very hesitant to tell people (not to mention write)* about for many reasons. The main reason is that I would come across as a complete asshole (yes, I am used to that but that doesn't mean I enjoy it). But that night I told this man why I (sometimes) think this way, and the diatribe goes something like this:

I have always been a "guy's girl." I grew up with sisters but was raised as a tomboy so guys were always my good friends, usually because they wanted to hook up with my sisters but that is besides the point. If I had a nickel for every guy that said "your sister is so hot," I would be a millionaire (and that would totally help me nowadays). During this time I became the "go-to-girl" for every males problems.

You don't think she likes you? Ask Chardsy.

You want to know how to ask her to homecoming? Ask Chardsy.

You think your balls smell like fumunda cheese? Ask Chardsy.

How I got involved in the last one is beyond me (I didn't really but I thought it added a nice touch).

Let me get back to the story at hand. Chardsy=Guy's girl=Lots of male friends. Ok, we are all on the up and up.

A few months back I had mentioned that I was dating someone** - if I remember correctly, it was brief because I didn't want to jinx it - and I believe I called him my SMF (Special Man Friend). I never got into our relationship because I, for the first time since McBaggins***, was actually excited about a man.

Let me give you a Cliff's Notes version of me and SMF: He and I worked together while I was in college. He had just graduated from one of the local schools in which he was a football player for (I will not name the school but let's just say they are very highly ranked this year - and every year). We became fast friends going out for drinks after work, watching football and hitting up the occasional movie. Great friends.

During our years long friendship people would pull me aside and tell me that they thought the SMF had feelings for me and I would brush them off. He had relationships, I had relationships, but we remained friends.

Friends.

Just friends.

Then on a random night back in May things changed, I finally gave in. I gave in to what everyone was saying, everything I had heard over the last five years, and I let him kiss me. At first it was horrible, then it was great.

I was instantly overwhelmed with excitement and grief. Excitement because this guy is great but, grief because what if the feelings that I had then didn't hold over? Because if he was so great shouldn't I have known 5 years ago? Because I might have ruined a friendship. Because the second I tell anyone who knows us they will start picking out our china pattern. But, despite all of my trepidations, I went with it.

I went with it week by week. Trying to work with schedules of two people who work(ed) in production made things interesting. By interesting I mean extremely difficult. We were able to see each other once a week, usually at around 1 am, and by that time we were so tired we would just fall asleep on the couch.

After many weeks and many rescheduled dinners/hang outs, we finally got a chance to hang out. By this time it had been quite some time since we had seen one another and I had gone from questioning our relationship to down-right thinking it shouldn't happen.

By the time he came over it was well after 1 AM, I greeted him with a cocktail and a kiss (I know the way to a man's heart - booze. Wait, that is the way to my heart. Shit!) and we got comfy on the couch. We caught up on each other's days, had some sips of our cocktails and exchanged a few kisses. My "I'm too scared to be in a relationship" nerves had started to quiet down the more we chatted.

Then something unspeakable happened.

SMF: -gasping for air-
Chardsy: Oh my God! Are you ok???
SMF: -more eaves supping-
Chardsy: Uhhh..are you having an asthma attack? do you even have asthma??.....I think I have a small paper bag around here that you can breathe into. Oh sweet sassy molassy this is not how tonight was going to go!
SMF: -more gasping for air-
SMF: No...no...I am great.
Chardsy: What's goi..are you ok?
SMF: Yes.
SMF: -wipes right eye-
SMF: I am just....so...so....so happy to be with you.

At this point something watery exited his left eye and rolled down his cheek.

SMF: -wipes left eye-
Chardsy: Are you....are you...crying??
SMF: -wipes both eyes-
Chardsy: Oh....ohh...ohhh no.

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*As you can tell, I LOVE parenthesis (AKA I don't know when to use them)!

**I mentioned the SMF in a few posts but since my computer is so old that it freezes when I tried to link to other pages, you'll jut have to start with "P is for Party".

***No need to link back to him (look above for reason I cannot), however he did get married last month. Good times.