Love is for Suckers
Well, now The Roni knows what it's like to not be able to get it up. After all her hot, sweaty rants about optimism being the new pink in February and how much she loves love and let's all hold hands and sing motherf-ing Kumbya and all that other brown & bubbly, Feb Club finally rolls around and she goes limp. I don't mean like all weak in the knees, I just mean plain flaccid. I really wanted to keep it up, but I just couldn't. And it's not like I couldn't stop thinking about grandma nekkid to the waist up wearing assless chaps, I mean I was really trying!
But you know what did it? I'll tell you - Number 1: people are so freaking predictable. And Number 2, or perhaps more appropriately, Number 1(b): boys are lame. That's it, plain and simple. They are lame, always have been, always will be, and you can set your watch by that. Even scarier, I will admit that this fact actually disappointed me! After Pathetic Boy Incident No.1 which rang in the Feb Club Year (as GWM points out, we at TGLSOAT mark our calendars much like the Chinese, with everything that matters starting in February), The Roni enjoyed maybe a day or two of being the firebreathing bitch from hell she knows she has in her (probably residing somewhere in the tin box located in her chest, where her "heart" should be), but then she just got plum down. She was secretly hoping that this particular love interest (one of her many inappropriate crushes) would prove her wrong and that he would be different - nay! that all men would be different than she knew or expected! He would see the smoke tendrils coming out of her ears, and between dodging heated breaths of fire (and the garlic from The Most Powerful Garlic Mashed Potatoes on Earth, thank you to Hester P for discovering), he would run towards The Roni, take her in his arms, cry to the heavens that he's been, gasp, lame, and BEG to be forgiven!
Not surprisingly, this did not happen. Lameness abounded, and the only man The Roni woke up with the next morning was the arm from the pizza delivery guy, which she had evidently ripped apart from his person in her haste to collect the much-needed sustenance that was an extra-large sausage lover's pizza. (Ah, the irony of that sentence...)
But I digress; the point of that little tale through the convoluted jungle that is The Roni's brain was to explain that even the most frigid of heinous bitches, The Roni herself, can get her parachute-sized cotton panties in a knot for the lowest of all creatures, a boy.
Now here is where the real kicker comes, and it pains me to say it - but doesn't that then beg the question - is it really (a) people are overly predictable, and, er go (b) boys are, and always will be, predictably lame, or is it maybe (a) people are overly predictable, and, er go (b) girls are, and always will be, crazy in the head, and further (c) The Roni, as a "girl," is, therefore, doomed to a life of being duped by boys, who are still lame. Wrap your brains around that one, my friends.
But just to show you that I'm still as shallow and superficial as ever, here are some blidies for you:
1. Which Curly-Headed Soulmate of The Roni spent saturday night rebuffing the advances of a certain wily suitor? I don't know, but I'll tell you who did spend the night succumbing to those advances...
2. In another tragic blow to the heart and ego of The Roni, which of her favorite anonymous posters and friend to belligerent animals everywhere spent Thursday night working the UG crowd like a shirtless bartender in Cancun during March?
3. Violets to La Brez for shooting down the Captain of the DB's and card-carrying member of the lamer sex!
4. Violets to The Sorority Sister for literally grabbing the kerosene, lighting the match and burning that mother down on saturday night! The Roni hasn't stayed up until 4am dancing to Salt-N-Peppa (spell it right, folks) in quite some time, but let me tell you, she likey.
5. Violets to Gray's Anatomy for KICKING SERIOUS ASS. The Roni is still trying to catch her breath from excitement.
6. The Roni must give a preemptive apology for this one, but you knew you weren't going to avoid it...the You Naughty, Naughty Minx Award goes to one of The Roni's Close, Personal Friends this week for proving that a toga shouldn't stop anyone from getting nookie.
That about does it for Dirt & Violets, I think. I'm sure there's more, but since I spent most of the weekend trying to figure out how to tie a toga, I was a little preoccupied. Let me know if I've missed anyone.
Oh, and from here on out, we are going to kick it old school style and do a round up of every Feb Club Party The Roni attends. So keep it classy, Charvegas, because The Roni's going to spill all your dirty secrets. And wax philosophical about the greater meaning of melancholy (alone, pizza-less, and sober at 2am on a saturday) and the potential for happiness (Anything for a Dollar is only a few days away...and The Roni's two very favorite costumes are going to get a chance to come out!).
I'm going to go cry on my pillow now.
But you know what did it? I'll tell you - Number 1: people are so freaking predictable. And Number 2, or perhaps more appropriately, Number 1(b): boys are lame. That's it, plain and simple. They are lame, always have been, always will be, and you can set your watch by that. Even scarier, I will admit that this fact actually disappointed me! After Pathetic Boy Incident No.1 which rang in the Feb Club Year (as GWM points out, we at TGLSOAT mark our calendars much like the Chinese, with everything that matters starting in February), The Roni enjoyed maybe a day or two of being the firebreathing bitch from hell she knows she has in her (probably residing somewhere in the tin box located in her chest, where her "heart" should be), but then she just got plum down. She was secretly hoping that this particular love interest (one of her many inappropriate crushes) would prove her wrong and that he would be different - nay! that all men would be different than she knew or expected! He would see the smoke tendrils coming out of her ears, and between dodging heated breaths of fire (and the garlic from The Most Powerful Garlic Mashed Potatoes on Earth, thank you to Hester P for discovering), he would run towards The Roni, take her in his arms, cry to the heavens that he's been, gasp, lame, and BEG to be forgiven!
Not surprisingly, this did not happen. Lameness abounded, and the only man The Roni woke up with the next morning was the arm from the pizza delivery guy, which she had evidently ripped apart from his person in her haste to collect the much-needed sustenance that was an extra-large sausage lover's pizza. (Ah, the irony of that sentence...)
But I digress; the point of that little tale through the convoluted jungle that is The Roni's brain was to explain that even the most frigid of heinous bitches, The Roni herself, can get her parachute-sized cotton panties in a knot for the lowest of all creatures, a boy.
Now here is where the real kicker comes, and it pains me to say it - but doesn't that then beg the question - is it really (a) people are overly predictable, and, er go (b) boys are, and always will be, predictably lame, or is it maybe (a) people are overly predictable, and, er go (b) girls are, and always will be, crazy in the head, and further (c) The Roni, as a "girl," is, therefore, doomed to a life of being duped by boys, who are still lame. Wrap your brains around that one, my friends.
But just to show you that I'm still as shallow and superficial as ever, here are some blidies for you:
1. Which Curly-Headed Soulmate of The Roni spent saturday night rebuffing the advances of a certain wily suitor? I don't know, but I'll tell you who did spend the night succumbing to those advances...
2. In another tragic blow to the heart and ego of The Roni, which of her favorite anonymous posters and friend to belligerent animals everywhere spent Thursday night working the UG crowd like a shirtless bartender in Cancun during March?
3. Violets to La Brez for shooting down the Captain of the DB's and card-carrying member of the lamer sex!
4. Violets to The Sorority Sister for literally grabbing the kerosene, lighting the match and burning that mother down on saturday night! The Roni hasn't stayed up until 4am dancing to Salt-N-Peppa (spell it right, folks) in quite some time, but let me tell you, she likey.
5. Violets to Gray's Anatomy for KICKING SERIOUS ASS. The Roni is still trying to catch her breath from excitement.
6. The Roni must give a preemptive apology for this one, but you knew you weren't going to avoid it...the You Naughty, Naughty Minx Award goes to one of The Roni's Close, Personal Friends this week for proving that a toga shouldn't stop anyone from getting nookie.
That about does it for Dirt & Violets, I think. I'm sure there's more, but since I spent most of the weekend trying to figure out how to tie a toga, I was a little preoccupied. Let me know if I've missed anyone.
Oh, and from here on out, we are going to kick it old school style and do a round up of every Feb Club Party The Roni attends. So keep it classy, Charvegas, because The Roni's going to spill all your dirty secrets. And wax philosophical about the greater meaning of melancholy (alone, pizza-less, and sober at 2am on a saturday) and the potential for happiness (Anything for a Dollar is only a few days away...and The Roni's two very favorite costumes are going to get a chance to come out!).
I'm going to go cry on my pillow now.
posted by The Roni at 12:35 PM
3 Comments:
hmm roni... if number 2 was about me, the nice UGs were the practically shirtless ones not me...big note you missed, i did run back from their apt naked only to pass by lots of dudes (yes dudes in the male sense) on my porch playing pong...don't ask why i was naked, just be happy i wasn't jumping on or off of things.
Ummm...I am not going to ask you, my anonymous lover, what "jumping on or off of things" entails. I am just going to hope it does not involve aforementioned UGs...
haha... i was refering to the transition from a weekend of daredevilesc (trying to make up words and probalby spelling them incorrectly) behavior of jumping on trains and off roofs one weekend to nudity the next. I figure nudity is safer and hence a healthy transition. We'll see what this next weekend entails.
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