So, I’m doing this new thing where I just openly date a heap of dudes, and am going to remain ACTIVELY AND WILLFULLY SINGLE for at least a year. I’ve been doing it for about 6 months.
Moving back home when you made such a big deal of leaving in the first place (as I did) is a pretty tough banana to peel.
While we’re on the subject of teeth… dude, I totally get the emotional and physical pain of braces. I went through it. So did most of us. In middle school.
I don’t care what anyone else says, I love you. I’ve loved you since you had long hair they crimped to make you look like a mermaid and were doing choreography straight from the “Exhausted Go-Go-Dancer Handbook for Up and Coming Pop Stars” on the cheap set of “Pon de Replay.”
I’m not sayin’ I’m a gold digger… but I probably could be. Everybody has their limits, though — even those girls on Millionaire Matchmaker (read: the Jason “Gummi Bear” Davis episode). Here are five Rich Dudes that are absolutely, definitely NOT on my list of theoretical Rich Baby Daddys.
I’m not a “clean purse” kind of gal. I’m the type that treats her purse as a safe-cum-trashcan-cum traveling pantry. My boyfriend is legitimately afraid to look in there, just because he found an old Taco Bell burrito inside of it ONE TIME.
Post-shower, I figured it out and grabbed one of my mom’s maxi pads from under the sink. I struggled with the protective wings for a while before giving up and taping the damn thing to my underpants with Scotch tape. “This can’t be right,” I told myself as I squelched around swathed in what was surely the adult equivalent of a diaper.
I lived in Long Beach, CA for about six years while I futzed around at college. Yeah, it took me 5.5 years to finish college, what about it? Anyway, my last year there, I lived in a beautiful house on a corner in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. During the 18 months I lived there, I witnessed a slew of events that can only be characterized as part of life in the hood.