douche dissection. part 1.

(note: there will not be pictures for your viewing pleasure in my douche segments because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings from my real life)

As many of you know, I attract douches. However, in their defense, they also attract me. These days it doesn't take much to be considered a douche (especially by me) since it seems to be the cool thing to do anymore. Douches are associated with certain things, like a certain style of dress (which I prefer over others), certain schools and certain lifestyles. LA and S. Florida are prime examples of douche dwelling at its best. I'm so enamored with douches that I even have a blog dedicated to them - the Tool Shed. I hope it's private - some of the whiney babies that may or may not be on it got upset one day - it's fascinating reading though so if you want access, let me know. I don't update it as often as I would like...I mean, it's hard to sit down after basically every date and recount every douchey thing a dude does during our courtship. I do however keep a list so I can update as time allows so beware: just because you're not in the tool shed today does not by any means guarantee you won't be in there tomorrow. At any rate, I have decided to share my thoughts on douches here at the House of Deeze as they come to me (or my friends and me during discussions we have often)...the dissection of a douche, if you will.

Douche Dissection #1:
Douchebaggery is situational. It is based on individual actions and does not have to be a constant state of being. You may not be a douche today, but there is always tomorrow.

A Haiku for the Snoopy's Crew

Tonight, I am craving a cheeseburger. And while I do intend to start a new national day called "I must have a quarter pounder with cheese NOW day," I realize that it just so happens to be 99 cent night (did you know there's no cent symbol on the apple laptops? another reason for me to hate apple's guts) at Snoopy's. Now, a little background: every tuesday in college some girlfriends and I would go get hot dogs at Snoopy's. So much so that, like all places I frequent, I was on a first name basis with Troy, the owner. One Tuesday, in graphic design class - YES GRAPHIC DESIGN CLASS. I know, I can't believe I was in this class either - the teacher told us to write a haiku about what we were thinking. Clearly I was thinking about getting a delicious wienie, maybe two or three, in just an hour. Hotdog (or wiener) didn't fit in my haiku pentameter and a half though. So, I changed it to cheeseburger, because Snoop's also sold them. and they too were delicious. I have dug up two things: 1. the picture of some of my girlfriends and me on a Tuesday night that Troy proudly hung in the pickup window of his shop and b) the haiku that also hung in the pickup window and that also landed me a BIG PHAT D in graphic design. she was such a cold, heartless b. and this was serious art for me. Additionally, I'd like to note that we have ALL improved ten-fold since college. sheesh.

A Haiku for the Snoopy’s Crew

By: Meredith Robertson
( A Meredith College Student and Dedicated Snoopy’s Customer)

[insert cheesy graphic that i did not design]

Dreamy, Tasty Snoops
Cheeseburger…I cannot wait
To Bite Into You

modern day jane austens

for any of you who know me, and know that i am a nerd who loves jane austen. you know that part of the reason i am single is because i do not feel that it is too much to expect for myself to find my own mr. darcy. i don't see any issue in someone telling me they love me ardently or that they find me bewitching. Perhaps I should make this my tag line on any online dating profiles I may or may not have (or that I may or may not manage for my friends. yes, I enjoy winking on behalf of myself and others). In the meantime, the new chris brown/bieber duet (a dream in and of itself) is proof enough why perhaps my own mr. darcy is a hip hop artist. and why hip hop artists should be given more credit as they are the ones rewriting the rules for romance (you know which doctor you should call). I have selected some lyrics for your enjoyment. And also included a favorite picture for your viewing pleasure.

You've got that smile,
That only heaven can make.
I pray to God everyday,
That you keep that smile.

Yeah, you are my dream,
There's not a thing I won't do.
I'll give my life up for you,
Cos you are my dream.

And baby, everything that I have is yours,
You will never go cold or hungry.
I'll be there when you're insecure,
Let you know that you're always lovely.

One day when the sky is falling,
I'll be standing right next to you,
Right next to you.
Nothing will ever come between us,
I'll be standing right next to you,
Right next to you.

We're made for one another
Me and you.

bums all around

Saturday night, a group of my peeps went to dinner then out for drinks. Because I'm cool, I preferred to stay in and just meet out for drinks. I drove downtown, parked in the parking deck and felt like a big girl as I made my way towards what I thought was the after dinner spot. How quickly I realized I was lost. I stopped and asked two (very attractive mind you) men in suits for directions. They directed me toward another bar and when I got there, I asked the bouncer how to get to my original destination. Now, the last time I did this in Raleigh, the bouncer screamed at me and flipped me off. Thank goodness this one was a bit nicer as he just sent me back where I came from. As I made my way toward my destination, keeping my friends in the loop with minute by minute txt updates, I heard someone behind me. I turned and found a bum on my heels. Like, super close to me. I pulled over into the doorway of the restaurant I ripped the bum (so many uses for the word bum these days!) of my ropper in and waited for him to pass. Only he stopped too. I said "if you're going in, I will get out of your way." He said he wasn't going in. So I went in and stood against the wall whilst txting my friends that I was trapped by a bum at the Times. Next thing I know, the bum was next to me against the wall. So I walked to the other side of the restaurant and out the other door. A friend called and said he was coming to get me so to walk to the corner and he'd meet me there. People, we're talking the corner was maybe 8 feet from the doorway I was currently in. I literally sprinted to the corner and he was there to scoop me up. He asked if that was the bum following me and I turned around and THERE WAS MY BUM. I screamed and ran to the bar. My friend said he wasn't trying to make light of the situation but that it was pretty funny to watch me run in heels screaming that a bum was following me.

Not gonna lie, I was scared. I had left my mace in the car and I still don't have my gun. There's been a lot of violence here in town lately concerning bums and honestly I feel like this bum was hoping I'd take a wrong turn into a dark alley. it was scary. Sorry for the not funny story but I felt like sharing. I never think it's a good idea for a girl to walk around by herself at night, but at 915 in a well lit area of town, I honestly thought I was ok going roughly 2 blocks total from where I had parked. Women need to be aware of their surroundings and be able to defend themselves. I used to fight kick box and I've always said that while I didn't take it for self defense purposes, I felt like if I got mugged, I might have a chance of at least showing the dude what was up. Next time anyone becomes a close walker, I'll show him what's up. And I won't wait for him to follow me into a restaurant before I do it either. oh, and i'll be calling my old kickboxing instructor to get some more lessons from him. and you can bet i'm starting the gun safety in NC process stat.

speaking of tanning.

Several years ago, during my first rodeo in these necks, I was a deuchebag. Yes my friends, I was what I love.

Somehow (I know how. I know exactly how), I had gotten entangled with this dude who was quite possibly the epitome of a deuche (oh but he had SUCH a sweet heart). He wasn't the kind of guy who told me what to do (oh, wait, yes he was) or expected me to be a certain way but somehow I got it into my brain that I needed a tan. What wasn't in my brain was how sometimes fake tans just do not look real. And I was convinced I looked GOOD.

Now, I know I have a naturally sunny disposition. I mean, there is only one side of my bed and it is definitely sunny side up. But my skin tone and my disposition don't always see eye to eye. On another note, it really is unfortunate since my favorite line in Will Smith's Welcome to Miami is when he says "I've never seen so many Dominican women with cinnamon tans." So I did what Elaine always did and called my enabler friend. Every day after work, Emily and I would make our way to the tanning bed, then have dinner at Firehouse Subs. I have no idea how we afforded this as we both made less than we do now, and there is no way I'd ever currently pay for a tanning bed subscription AND Firehouse subs every night. McDonalds or Bojangles, sign me up. Firehouse Subs? No thank you. At any rate, as my tan started to glow, so did my deucheyness. I mean, look at the picture here. Front tucker in my designer jeans, polo shirt (I distinctly remember popping the collar but my mom, whom I cut out of this picture because I know she is shamed of how I looked, folded it down), croakies and I'm pretty sure I was wearing boat shoes. Now, I don't have a problem with this outfit in general (actually, if you want to hit on me, please do it wearing designer jeans, croakies and boat shoes and you're pretty much guaranteed to be going home with at least my number), but combined with my glowing skin, and Ross Geller teeth, it's a wonder the Three Six Mafia didn't contact me to help them work dem hoes (not to mention this was about the same time Nelly's Grillz song was out and I was thisclose to make a purchase from my all time fave website. But my gangsterness is for another day).

Thankfully I grew out of my deuchyness and blossomed into the treasure (still sunny side up) I am today. However, I came upon a free tanning coupon the other day so I called Emily, and it's so exciting to be just like the old days. Only this time, we're older so our routine is going to the gym, then going to tan and then going to our homes to find outfits for work the next day. hey, they don't call it the University of New Jersey at Durham for nothing.

oh chris, did ya hafta?

Dear Chris Brown:

It's too bad you had to go psycho again. You say you can't get away from your past but maybe if you stopped acting a fool, you'd be able to show the world that you're new and improved (and anger free). I guess it's time I have my "Leave Chris the eff alone" shirt made (with "you know you woulda hit her too" on the back) to go with my "free kobe" shirt. It's starting to get expensive being the one man army that I am, supporting you crazy kids.

I stand by you Chris. I know Rhianna provoked you that night in your rented Lambo, and while I don't condone hitting females (males, maybe, but definitely not females), I can't say I wouldn't have hit her back too. I also stand by you on your statements regarding the nightmare that is Charlie Sheen, I think, though a refresher course in some of his most recent and most hilarious statements proves that more than several could easily have been said by you. Or just apply to you. Also, put on a shirt. Those tats look ridic and I'm pretty sure your mama is ashamed of the way her boy is behaving.

Boom, crush.
Night, losers.
Winning, duh.

Love, deezy.

the jersey shore in real life

Me: I'm not going to the gym. i'm too tired.
Emily: alright. thanks for ditching me.
Me: are you still going to tan?
Emily: I don't know. we'll see how I feel after the gym.
Stephanie: you going to do some laundry after that?

I realized at that moment how much Emily is like the jersey shore. and i was ashamed to call her friend.

a genius business plan

Every time I go to the apple store, i get a bad attitude. The reasons vary from the fact that the back door is like a clown car but with geeks to things like the below.

WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS TOUGH GUY? Is he the geek patrol? I mean, what is he doing? Waiting to take someone out for copping a'tude with a nerd?


however, then the midge came out of the clown caresque back door and my attitude was immediately adjusted. now THAT is genius.

Gym Rules Part 1: What I wear starting now

my personal trainer is nothing but 77 inches of pure sex. and I do mean head to toe. despite fighting stomach cramps from the bad decision I made at Bojangles not 30 minutes before my workout, I instantly began planning my next outfit for the gym upon shaking his hand. I feel like my prom dress just isn't going cut it this time. nope. I have to prove to him that I enjoy working out and sweating and that I am not at all mesmerized by his charm and chiseled jaw. Clearly, the only thing that is going to make him want to squat for me is a thong leotard and leg warmers. Pretty much, I have to become Jane Fonda overnight. It's a good thing I believe in starving yourself for important occasions because if I keep eating out, I'm not going to be able to afford him. Additionally, it's a good thing that the wig I bought in college to play Jessica Simpson (and Cher) is called the "Jane Fonda." I'll have my mom ship it to me. Let's face it ladies. Some things are worth sacrificing for.

Flashback Friday - Project Baby Edition

I am copying and pasting a blog from Project Baby because JUST one week ago, I had dinner with my girl Ginger. Ginger and I were catching up on a few funnies from the past few years of our life (ok, a LOT of funnies) and she said Lisa had moved into her house while she was doing an internship in FL. I said "how did I not know this?" She said "Kristin set us up. And Lisa had a dog that lived with her." I immediately yelled "SHE BROUGHT FARVA WITH HER? KRISTIN MADE HER BRING FARVA?" Ginger said she didn't think Kristin had anything to do with the dog Lisa brought (it was Lisa's dog, not Kristin's and it definitely wasn't Farva...but I didn't find this out until I talked to Lisa a few days later). however, today, I go to do my daily blog perusing and I find the below. Even to do this day, the FIRST dog that comes to my mind is...FARVA. no, not Larva. FARVA.
______________________________________________________________

The photo above will strike fear in the hearts of the following people: my parents, Lisa, Meagan, Meredith, an ex-boyfriend or two, and myself.

What you are seeing is one of “Kristin’s Biggest Mistakes”: adopting Farva.

Why did I randomly adopt this dog and bring him home to our little college apartment Junior year? I have no idea. I have no excuse. But let me sum up the experience for you:

• He had severe separation anxiety
• The shedding…oh, the shedding
• He snapped at a little kid on Halloween night
• He had HEARTWORMS (thanks, shelter in Greensboro)
• He was….crazy.

The tipping point was when Lisa and I came home to a HOUSE FULL OF BLOODY PAW PRINTS. You see, Farva did not like to be caged during the day. He broke every play pin and dog crate I bought. So I got serious and welded a steel door to the front and sides of a large dog crate.

He chewed through the steel. Blood everywhere. It was time for him to go.

I took him back to the shelter. The following day, a family I knew said they were interested in adopting him as an outside dog. I called the shelter to share the good news. TOO BAD HE BROKE OUT OF THE SHELTER AND RAN AWAY.

“He ran towards the road and took a right. He was looking for you,” they said.

GREAT.

Ever since this catastrophe, I have been extremely cautious about buying/adopting pets. In fact, this experience taught me MANY life lessons in general. When Matt and I considered starting a family, I thought back on Farva. Would our little baby be like him? Chewing through steel and acting insane? Surely not. But I did think about it for a long time…no more impulse decisions for me.

There are a few things in life you can’t give back - one of those things is a baby.

I feel confident we will be just fine, but the ghost of Farva still lingers above my head every time we make a big life decision. “Let’s think this through,” I say to myself.

How did a random PetSmart adoption turn into a lifelong lesson? I’ll never know.
_____________________________________________________________

what is a bum?

I don't recommend googling images of "bum" whilst at work. You'll get a lot of pictures of butts and also of Asian people, which I find curious. Nonetheless, dictionary.com and (appropriate) urbandictionary.com definitions for "bum" include: a tramp, hobo, or derelict; a druken orgy; debauch; to disappoint, upset or annoy; a homeless person. My own definition of a "bum" is my date from yesterday.

Let me lay out the facts. This was a blind date. He suggested breakfast because I didn't want to do dinner (but not because a girl doesn't have to eat). I told him I could meet him before church. We met at a diner ATTACHED TO A GAS STATION. I wore church clothes and he wore work boots, dirty jeans and a tshirt. oh, and he hadn't shaved in about 4 days. Conversation was ok. Food was ok. Really, I'm not such a snob that I care that much WHERE we ate (though I did turn down Bob Evans)but I do believe in the importance of first impressions. As you can imagine, I was not impressed. He messaged me later in the day letting me know he could tell I wasn't feeling it. I said we were more different than I initially thought because I believe in the importance of a good first impression and he is clearly a what you see is what you get. He said he would never dress up to go eat breakfast at the gas station. I told him I would never dress like a bum for someone I could potentially be interested in. he told me he took offense to the fact that I called him a bum. I told him I took offense to the fact that he dressed like a bum for our first (and last) date. he told me was glad he at least got delicious pigs in a blanket out of it.

the end.

happy biebsday!

Dear Justin:
Tonight, my big brother posted on my facebook wall the following: "I have Twitter now. It is weird that all your Tweets are to Justin Bieber." It was in this moment, just then, that I realized my love for you is making me...exactly what he said...weird. In an effort to not move on with my affections, but rather, to come to terms with this about myself, I have made a list of exactly how badly I suffer from your fever, what is known as Bieber fever.

1. I will gladly tell anyone and everyone about my ailment. Even strangers. Just a few weeks ago, when I started my new job, a new coworker said he had heard a nasty rumor that I liked you. My reply? "I don't just like him. I love him."
2. I joined Twitter just to tweet you (and Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds but that's beside the point). I remain genuinely offended that 100% of the time I don't get a tweet back.
3. I had surgery and some of my friends brought me a Teen Beat with a poster sized pull out of you inside. And yes, I pulled it out and hung it on my wall. Yes, yes I did.
4. There was a leftover pair of tickets to your movie and a friend of mine said to her boss at the radio station that she knew JUST the girl who would take them. None of my own friends would go with me, so I took the 11 year old daughter of a good friend. Quite honestly, I'm still giddy about that night. I felt like I was 13 again! and I loved you more than ever.
5. I got into an argument with said 11 year old about who should get you and who should get Usher. She reminded me that at 11, she was much closer to your age than I was and I should get a life. Not gonna lie, that truth stung me like a bumble bee.
4. I finally landed a decent date to the movies and I see you, so I had to stop everything and kiss you on the cheek. Everyone who knows me knows how few and far between decent dates are and my love for you gave me the courage to risk the decency of this date. Needless to say, he didn't stick around much longer.
5. A friend of mine was shopping for her kid sized niece and took a picture of a "Future Mrs. Bieber" shirt and txted it to me. She said it wasn't in my size unfortunately. It concerns me that manufacturers think the only people who would actually wear a shirt like this this are the child laborers in their factories.
6. I know that there are 22 of your songs in the jukebox. I also realize that you aren't old enough to even know what a jukebox is.
7. I constantly receive taunting photos of you from my friends whilst at the NBA All-Star game or whoring it up with that Gomez girl. I do not approve of you being alone at a hotel with her but I completely approve of you shopping at Cartier. You clearly know the way to my heart is through gems and if you must practice on someone, at least she's older than you and can teach you a thing or two about older women. I also completely agree with your fraternizing with Kobe. This helps further my case that Kobe is innocent and misunderstood.
8. I have disected every single one of your songs. I know that "First Dance" isn't about a first kiss and that not only did Luda lie, but no one who is 13 drinks a Starbuck every morning.
9. I also know from first hand experience that it isn't wise to ask someone if they are an eenie meanie miney mo lover. Perhaps you should let me take a stab at some song writing on your behalf. I mean shoot, I too just need somebody to love.
10. I spotted your calendar on sale at the Target, put it in my buggy, took a picture of it for my facebook, carried it around the Target and then put it back after deciding I was too old to be spending good money on your calendar from last year.
11. My next birthday will feature paper products with your face printed all over them. My birthday wish is for you to jump out of my birthday cake.
12. I really feel the urge to spend my next paycheck on a pair of high tops and a purple hoodie. Purple has always been my very favorite color ya know.
13. Speaking of your songs, I have a shower playlist that is basically your entire album. The other morning, I stepped out of the shower as the bonus video of Baby was playing. I felt insecure you were staring at me in all my glory so I wrapped up in a towel and shut the computer screen.
14. Lastly, I received an email the other night from the Cougar Club. The subject line read: "are you ready to get online and meet the next young buck?" I literally hit reply and said "yes. but only if his name is Justin Bieber."

WebMD and ehow.com both couldn't diagnose me. My real life doctor friends just say I'm crazy and need to get a life. But if having a life means I must be cured, then I don't want to live!

Happy Belated Biebsday, honey bear. Remember, when you smile, I smile.

Conversations with Deb

Deb (Debra, Debbie) works for the NBA. You can imagine the conversations we have about whether or not Kobe is innocent, when is she going to set me up with an NBA player, and when is she going to get me tickets to the All Star game so I can chase Justin Bieber. Oh, and besides our mutual shared love of Boys II Men and the New Kids, she also is an announcer for the Giants. Today though, our conversation shifted.

Debra: if i wanted to go as merdeezy for halloween, what should i wear?
me: lol im dressing as justin bieber for halloween

Debra: it would be like trying to go as barbie... there's cowgirl merdeezy, synchronized swimming merdeezy, dance dance revolution merdeezy....
Debra: the possibilities are endless!
Debra: and the new special edition merdeezy, complete with merdeezy dream
tree house with collapsable stairs, hooker heels, and coccyx pad

Despite the ability to name drop her to impress boys, I think it is evident why I am friends with her.