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“Model” Me:

Regular Me:

Sometimes I wear extensions. So there you have it folks. Me.

Ps-There’s a new link section for places I network at. Feel free to add me to facebook, and check out my portfolios on the other sites.

So this is my first weekend alone. It’s Easter and the boyfriend is in our hometown to jam with his band. I’m in the same town so we’ll see each other tonight at a punk show, but tomorrow I’m heading back to Windsor solo.

I’m kind of looking forward to having the new place to myself. I can do girlie things like a facial, bubble bath and paint my nails. I can walk around naked (well I can do that when he’s around, but it always ends in hide the penis), fart and pee with the door open. Though on second thought he sometimes pees with the door open. I should start doing the same.

Anyway, I am looking forward to all of those things, but I am not looking forward to the empty bed and lack of company. Yeah I’ll have the dogs keeping me company (and my hands full) but it’s just not the same. Especially since he forgot his phone charger so his phone is likely going to die.

I’m trying to organize some sort of girl’s night for Saturday night. I haven’t gone out with the ladies in a helluva long time (new relationship, and what not so he’s been coming along) and it’ll be nice to let loose. Hell, I’m even looking forward to brutally turning down men after they buy me a drink.

Sunday night High Five and I are going to grab some drinks and hit the strip club since he missed my birthday (did I ever write about that?!?!) and apparently I owe him boobies. Strippers it will be, because he won’t be seeing mine anymore.

I’m also thinking about doing a Vlog. If you have questions post them and I’ll do my best to answer! I might even put some sort of app for asking questions on the side bar. I know you’re all dying to put a face to the (fake) name.

It’s tmi Thursday, and I am currently on an hour long bus ride home from work. There’s no better way to pass the time than by blogging via my crackberry, right?

Todays tmi subject matter: sex.

Story numero uno:

I’m sure this has happened to everyone, but one time when my ex was going down on me I had a toe curling orgasm. It was so good that I farted in his face. I wanted to die.

Another time we were going at it and things were a little..slippery. One minute there’s carnal friction, the next he’s doubled over in pain and I’m crying while shielding my pooper.

He slipped and rammed it into my butt. I didn’t walk or sit properly for days. I still get nervous sometimes.

Last night was Wednesday. As such it was half price Wing night at the bar around the corner.

Yes..this is the bar that High Five plays at. My friends and I headed out around 10pm, and I asked Hannibal to join us. High Five had been texting me almost daily for the last two weeks; offering to bring me soup and tea when I was sick, asking me out to lunch, texting at 12am to see what I was doing.

I can only dodge and play nice for so long. I don’t have feelings for High Five anymore, he’s ruined it with his games and flip flopping feelings. I’ve told him point blank I was seeing someone, and I was beginning to think that maybe High Five had convinced himself that Hannibal didn’t really exist.

High Five ignored me for most of the night, he sent me a random text saying “Hey Blondie” which I ignored. If you don’t have the guts to come say hi in person, please don’t bother. We were all having a good time eating out wings, telling stories and Hannibal was getting to know my friends.

My friends even adore him, that never happens in Carrie-land. Finally around midnight High Five decided to plunk himself down beside Hannibal and make things awkward by saying hi. It went fairly smooth all things considered. Hannibal kept his cool while subtly putting his arm around me as I wiggled closer. I had about 5 Purple Hazes at this point (3 of which were doubled for free..thank you boobies..I mean bartender.)

Oh sweet revenge. High five just narrowed his eyes and excused himself.  We were all feeling pretty good (ie horribly drunk) at this point so we decided to head to Hannibal’s to play Singstar and drink more. Great idea right? Who doesn’t love singing horribly off key while doing tequila shots until 3:30am? I’m sure the neighbors all love us now.

The night wrapped up and I asked Hannibal if he wanted to sleep at my place. Churf was staying over because she couldn’t drive in her current state, and buses stop running around 1am. He coyly asked if I wanted to stay at his place instead.

Obviously I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to send Churf to my place alone so I could have some late night nookie.  I even mumbled something about “bros before hoes”. I said it without thinking and everyone started laughing while Hannibal asked if I was calling him a hoe while feigning offense. Again I suggestion he come to my place.

Want to know why he’s been avoiding sleeping over, or hanging out at my place for so long? My dog. I laughed and asked if he was afraid of my 110 pound teddy bear. He replied that he was no such thing, however he didn’t want to do the horizontal tango with my dog watching.

…Does he not realize my bedroom has a door? I managed to convince him to come over and we had our second sleepover.  We both sleep like rocks with each other. All night my bedroom door kept blowing open and closing, Churf told me how annoying it was this morning..we didn’t hear it. I also clearly remembering rolling over to cuddle up behind Hannibal and my cheek landed in a huge damp drool spot on my favorite pillow.

Sexy.

Either way we had a great night. Several times my friends accidentally called Hannibal my boyfriend (neither of us corrected them), and than kgod my internet wasn’t working late last night because he sat at my computer when we got home and my homepage (which is this blog) was sitting open on the screen. Luckily it had tried to refresh after my internet stopped working.

Phew. It would have been interesting trying to explain that.

So as a woman I am all about embracing your curves. women are suppose to be shapely. Twig like women with no booty or boobs are not attractive at all. One thing however I can’t stand are the ladies who are overweight to an unhealthy degree.

What bugs me even more is when these women try to hide their obesity..or distract from it.

Case Study 1:

I use to work in a rather popular lingerie/bathing suit store. Some women should not wear bikinis..ever. If you’re too big to be able to see your bikini line and shave it, it should not be exposed to the world. I don’t care how curvalicious you are. I don’t care if you just had a child (unless you just ate it. Deeeeeelicious.) Buy a one piece. Or just save us all the eye sore and don’t go to the beach and put down the fried chicken.

Case Study 2:

Fat Boobs. Stop trying to show off cleavage to distract from the fact that your huge Buddha belly sticks out further than your tits. If your tits are flat on top, and there’s a huge space between them when you wear a push up bra you have fat tits. Go lose some weight, get a breast lift and maybe some implants. I know I’m being a bitch but I’m a chick and I’m not looking at you out of jealousy. I’m looking because I’m grossed the fuck out. This is especially awful if your bra doens’t fit right so I can see your back fat, and it looks like you have 4 boobs. I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Case study 3:

“I’m fat but I have a pretty face.” No you don’t. And I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter how much makeup you slather on your face you’re not getting any more attractive. What you are doing is shining like a fat beacon that says “I am fat and insecure. Look at me.” Maybe you should invest in some flavored lipgloss so you can have a lick whenever you get a craving, instead of running into the nearest taco bell.

I know.. I know. You all think I’m the biggest bitch alive-but you know what? I’m sure you’ve encountered these kinda of women before and went “Ew”, so please don’t pretend that you have higher morale than me. I just speak my mind because I don’t care what some fat ass woman thinks of me.

I sometimes think I’m a dude trapped in a dudettes body:

1. I am obsessed with boobs. I love mine, I love everyone elses. I just love them.
2. Video Games. I’ve probably pwned you in several multiplayer games.
3. I’m a techie. I’ve upgraded video cards on my own, installed slave drives, set up partitions, modded my wii to play downloaded games, and I’ve worked for huge companies like Hewlett Packard and Symantec.
4. I love potty humor.
5. I find most women and their drama to be fucking annoying.
6. I could probably out burp and fart most men. That’s right.
7. I watch porn. Alot of it.
8. I have the sex drive of a teenage male. If I had a penis it would be hard 90% of the time.
9. I prefer female strippers to male strippers. No, I do not want you to stir my drink with your penis. Kthx.
10. Shots. I love them. I don’t like to chase. I’m hardcore.

There you have it folks. I promise though, I really do have a vagina. I’m just a bit of a tomboy.

Ladies, let’s all be honest here. At most clubs you pay 4$+ for a drink and they’re usually half a shot. Club owners love to milk that shit. I’ve found a way around this: flirt your way in with the bartender. The key is to make yourself noticeable-there’s always a huge crowd waiting for drinks infront of the bar.

If your a feminist leave now. You are going to hate everything I have to say.

Tip 1:Work your assets.

The first thing people always notice about me is my breasts. They’re amazing. While it can be annoying to have guys conversing with the girls and not my face, this is one of those times where it comes in often. I usually wear something low cut when I go out.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. You know how I roll. This works especially well if you’re a mangle face (no offense). If you’re decent looking but have an amazing rack , ass or legs work that shit. Guys always notice your face last.

Not everyone can be as gifted as moi. (cough)

My favorite move is to lean over the bar. If the bar as some sort of step or ledge around the bottom I will step onto it and lean over the bar as far as I can. It always works.

Tip 2: Pick a persona.

You need personality. Personally I act like myself most of the time, but depending on the bar and the type of bartender you may have to pretend you don’t have a brain in your head. Drunk men and bartenders tend to be afraid of intellectual types.

I act like a bubbly flirt. It’s not really acting since it’s how I am. Don’t pretend to be something you’re not: simply bring it up a notch. Bat your lashes, stick whatever asset your using out.

Tip 3:Flirt.

If the bartender is simply so ugly you can’t stomach the thought of flirting, get your drink on. Booze goggles work wonders. In a noisy, busy club I’ll usually bat my lashes the first few times I buy a drink, then eventually when I’m handed my next drink I’ll sweetly say something like, “Thank you dollface” or sweetie, or whatever. After this your in.

IF its a more low key bar it’s easy. Say hi. Joke around. If some random guy hits on your while you’re waiting for your drink and the bartender is within earshot, burn the guy hitting on you hardcore. It’s all about seeming friendly at first, but really being a firecracker under it all. Guys eat that shit up. Usually within about a half hour you’ll have the bartender eating out of your hand and asking for hugs.

Tip 4: Drink Up, but don’t act Drunk.

Control yourself. Save falling all over and laying across tables for when you’re out of sight. I can pull a mean “I can’t believe I’m not drunk yet. What’s wrong with your mixing skills?” to a bartender even when I’m shitfaced. 8/10 times this comment results in a free shot or 2, if you don’t get a free shot you’re guaranteed that your drinks will be much much stronger.

And there you go kids. And yes, I am full of myself.

So last night the ex and I were supposed to hang out. Bacardi has been suffering from the Hershey squirts on and off all week, so imagine my delight when his asshole exploded all over my kitchen.

I just want to avoid the mind games and ex sex. Because honestly ex sex is always good (hell they know what you like), but as previously stated I’m trying to avoid the massive mind fuck I always end up with after such things.

So I text the ex to let him know the dog is sick and he replies saying he doesn’t want Bacardi in his place if he’s sick. He does not invite himself over to my place. This is my lucky night. Now my friends Kathy and Glenn were having birthday parties last night.

Originally they had been canceled due to illness, but for some reason or another we all ended up heading out to grab some food and hit a club. I probably should have known better since the dog was sick, and I had told the ex such. Nothing good would come from this. I am evil.

It’s 10:30pm. I am blonde. I am getting attention. All the boys love me. Who is that cute boy in the hat and Jersey? He looks out of place. Hrm..he is staring hard. Yes, I am sexy. I squint and realize he’s one of my exes best friends. I dramatically hide behind my friend and peek out once in a while. I’m amazing, he has not seen me. He thinks I’m a brunette, my head is in the witness protection program.

After eating our food I breathe a sigh of relief as we head to the club.  It is now 12am. This is a hipster bar. The friend will not go here. I am dancing. Oops I spill a little of my purple haze on a geeky emo kid. I smile alluringly. He dances away. He must be gay. I drink my haze with record speed..followed by 4 more.

I head to the bar. The bartender is a bit chubby, has a baby face but he is making my drinks so I flirt. He says “Another one?” and raises his eyebrows while staring at my breasts. I reply that his drink mixing abilities are lacking. I am clearly not drunk enough. He laughs and asks what kind of shot i want. I want tequila. Go big or go home, it’s free after all. He grabs a lemon and salt. I tell him to put that shit away.

I am hardcore. I am amazing. I am drunk. He does not notice this. He is too busy staring at my breasts. I do the shot. He does a shot of Redbull, I call him a pussy as I wipe the tequila from my lips. I do not need a chase. I am awesome. I am hot. I am sexy.

He makes my next purple haze a double and gives me extra cherries. I decide i love this bar and will come more often. Bartenders love me. I have a way with them. As previously stated I am hot. I am sexy. I am a blonde bombshell. I also look heavenly in purple.

I dance with my gay friend. He jokingly grabs my boob. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when I spot the exes friend. Shit I think to myself and quickly spin around. I remind myself that I am unrecognizable and calm down. We dance some more. I decide I need to sit down. Instead of sitting I end up laying across our table. I am looking at some random guys butt. It’s nice.

My friends decide we should leave. I don’t want to. It is 2:15am.

Next thing i know it’s 9:30 am and I have a new text. New text reads “Bacardi was too sick for you to come over, so instead you go downtown?” I roll my eyes and reply saying i understand why he is angry, I am sorry but Bacardi was better when I left and we already had made plans for another day.

I am also planning ways to cock block his friend every time I see him downtown from now on.

So the ex appears to no longer be speaking to me. There’s a twinge of pain in my stomach, but I suppose it’s for the best.

So on Devil’s night I went to a Halloween party my friend Rogue (she was dressed as her..all in the name of being anonymous, right?) all night some uber boring dude was trying to chat me up and it was driving me insane. He was dressed as House, and he kept talking to me about how to fix my credit. I seriously wanted to ask him if this ever helped him pick up women, I later found out he never picks up. I of course was sober, so I couldn’t be that mean.

Rogue could finally see how much I wanted to get away (I tried to escape a few times, but this guy kept finding me) so she grabbed some random dude, pushed us together and said “talk.”. He was dressed as Hannibal and was actually insanely adorable. Smooth move Rogue, smooth move. This party was back before I decided to become an alcoholic.

I remember going out on the porch so he could smoke (seriously, this is becoming such an issue with guys I like) and I smoked a joint. We were just shooting the shit, and thankfully he wasn’t boring me to death. We talked about everything, at one point we even were talking about faking orgasms and how lame it is. Some point shortly after I excused myself to go to the ladies room, when I came out he and his friends had left.

I hate costume parties. I didn’t get his name. I wanted to kill myself.

So over the last month I’ve been searching and harassing everyone I know that was at that party trying to figure out who the dude was. I finally found him. At the risk of seeming like a total creeper I messaged him on facebook.

Here’s the ironic thing: dude lives directly across the street from me.  Neither of us can figure out how we haven’t run into each other. He also majored in Sociology at the University,  loves horror movies and his favorite book is 1984. We were both a little freaked out by how much we have in common.

I went over to his place last night to watch a movie, and he was even more adorable than I remembered. I promised myself not to drink because if I did I would lose all control and end up throwing myself at him. I broke that promise. 5 shots of tequila later we were all over each other. I even talked him into trying on his leather pants for me. (..and oh my god.)

I had to leave at 3am to keep myself from having sex with him. After the whole High Five fiasco, I’ve decided that sleeping with dudes should be put off until I know what’s going on feeling wise. He offered to walk me hom, but I said no because I would have probably ended up going down on him on my porch or something.

I will not sleep with this dude. I will not sleep with this dude. I will not sleep with this dude.

On Friday a bunch of us are going out, I invited Hannibal and he’s coming, so it should be interesting. I have a love/hate relationship with the beginning of these things. The excitement of liking someone, and know they like you, but not being sure what is going to happen.

Oh butterflies. I missed that.

Last night my friend’s and I went to our usual Wednesday haunt, a bar around the corner where High Five plays every Wednesday. They have cheap wings too, and they’re delicious.

The night went fairly decently, we all talked, laughed and did our usual. High Five was a little out of sorts though. During his first break he walked up to our table as if he was going to say hi, then suddenly off and talked to some couple, after that he again walked up to us like he was going to sit down and veered off again, this time to the bar.

When he was talking to the couple a few seats away from our table he kept looking over at me for some reason. I honestly have no idea what that was all about..I have a feeling maybe he was planning on being a douchebag all night. Either way, whatever.

Second break rolls around and he doesn’t stop by until the end to ask us if we have any requests. Shortly after he went back up to sing some sort of sleazy looking guy asked if he could buy me a drink. I thought nothing of it..who am I after all, to deny myself free alcohol, right?

I had my Rye and Coke and humored the guy a bit before giving him a fake number and excusing myself to join my friends again. The night continued on fairly quickly and before I knew it, it was the end of the night. High Five stormed up to me looking rather furious..our conversation went something like this:

him: That guy you gave your number to is a fucking coke head and drug dealer, Carrie. (whoops!)

me: I gave him a fake, high five. Relax. How am i suppose to know these things?

him: *baffled expression with eyes bugging out”

me:*shrug*

him: What the fuck ever, that’s your perogative! *storms off*

me: Yeah well, who am I to turn down free booze, huh?!

At this point I was thoroughly confused. Who was he to get all bent out of shape? I didn’t fawn all over the guy. I talked to him for maybe 10 minutes. Yes I mostly did it because I knew it would get a rise out of him, but come on! Suddenly there was commotion outside..someone tried to skip out on their tab.

Guess who? That’s right, Mr.Free Booze. Well shit, don’t I look like a fucking idiot now? So fine whatever, drama and fighting is going on outside, I just wanted to go home by this point. My friends all called their cabs and I agreed to wait with them, with the intention of walking home after the cabs got there (It’s seriously not even a 5 minute walk).

High Five seemed to have calmed down and insisted he drop me off because he didn’t want me walking. Sweet, Right? Wrong. In the car we were talking about how I’m always getting into trouble because I’m a little naive and hot (what? I am.), and he started on about how there was so much more to me than my boobs and good looks. Well thanks guy!

And then everything went sour. We pulled up to my house and said our goodbyes. We were suppose to go bowling together sometime soonish, so I asked when he was available. He mentioned something about needing to finish his basement bar in time for his Christmas party on the 17th, so it would be after that.

I turned on the big puppy eyes and gave him a look. The conversation turned into this:

him: But you know, if you’re up for a booty call, call me.

me: Do you really have to call it that?

him: It is what it is.

me: Really, high five? It’s all sex..no feelings?

him: *silence*

me: Well?

him: Well I’m not going to sugar coat it for you.

me: Fuck you. *slamming car door and stalking off down my drive way*

him: Oh come on Carrie!

Seriously? What the fuck? It took me almost 4 fucking years to sleep with him. I’ve always told him point blank I would never be a booty call to him,  I invest my feelings too much, especially with him. On top of that when this whole thing started I had told him I felt like he was just using me for the sex and he got super offended and went on about how I was the first girl he’s kissed in however many years.

So seriously, what the fuck is going on here? You’re 32 dude, grow the fuck up. Normal people talk about things when they’re pissed off, they don’t go for low blows.

Of course as soon as he got home he had to facebook status slap me. It says this: “esq, is the perpetual asshole even though he’s honest, upfront and direct.” No moron, being those things means you would have told me 3 months ago that it was just sex, you wouldn’t text me to tell me you’re thinking about me, you wouldn’t be offended when I teased you about other girls, and you wouldn’t freak the fuck out when I tell you I feel like I’m being used.

I’m beginning to think High Five has a vagina or something. I’ve blocked him on msn, and his new name in my phone is “hypocritical fucking douchebag”. I’m at a loss as to what I should be doing now. Do I avoid him? Do I rip him a new one? Fuck.

I talked to his Filmmaker friend last night for about 3 hours and we both agree that High Five is acting like an idiotic prepubescent fuck.