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Eating French Fries
1. Always eat fries in pairs of two, who are very close to identical length. Do not eat one, four, seven, or eleven fries at one time. Only two. Think French fry twins.
2. If you get to the end of your fries, and you discover a single fry left, you should tear said fry in have and eat it as two fries. This is not the ideal situation since they are not true pairs, but in a bind, this works.
Losing a Man
1. Tell him you want to spend loads more time with him.
2. Tell him you want to be exclusive.
3. Give him an old-school casual greeting.
4. Mention your favorite color is red, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple, white or black.
Hemming Your Pants—N/A. Leave well enough alone and contact your mother.
Adopting a Pet
1. Take him/her to the vet immediately.
2. Have vet remove all cancerous cells promptly.
3. Constantly worry that he/she has cancer.
Dating
1. Do not do anything I have done.
2. Do not do anything I have done.
3. Do not do anything I have done.
Taking Pain Relievers
1. Keep well stocked at all times in every situation. Work, home, car, purse.
2. Do not buy two bottles of Ibuprofen and accidentally take both bottles home when you meant to have a bottle at work because then you’ll be in pain without relief.
Cooking
1. Invite someone over, preferably a hottie.
2. Tell him/her you have lots of kitchen items to cook things in.
3. Tell him/her to have at it because you ain’t cook.
Tiny snowflake tears make me want to vomit joy.
That’s close to a pleasant thought I had the other day.
Dear readers, I have missed you. I’m not feeling profound or witty or particularly inspired, but Bryan says the show must go on.
I will give you tidbits of information because I know you enjoy bulleted lists as much as I do:
• I have a partner in instability and to that person I say, stability is soooo passé.
• I’m back to reading Stephen King because he’s very comforting to me. The Dark Tower: the Gunslinger.
• I wear a black toboggan with a snowflake puff on the top both indoors and outdoors these days. Keeps my crazy contained. It’s also cold as fuck.
• I met a guy who was PERFECT for me. Until I said Howdy-do. But then he came back around. I didn’t answer one phone call and he blocked me from texting him. So I’m back to keeping myself occupied with men who are not perfect for me in any way.
• 31 seems like a good age to be. 30 was not. 2009 was not a good year.
he did what he did
but I still think of him fondly
when I opened the door
I took his breath away
something most unexpected
something so surprising
even to him
to the both of us
To: My Dearest
From: Medicated Lady
Re: Evaluation
There is compelling evidence that you do not feel you have made an error in judgment concerning me. This is disappointing as I had not terminated you; I had only put you on probation. I fully expected for you to come through a reassessment with no problems. However, it has come to my attention that you are refusing to return to your senses. Weeks gone by and now it seems you’ve redirected adoration toward another.
All possible scenarios have dwindled to a singular ray pointed at the Exit sign. It appears the fire alarm has been going off for some time now, everyone has left the building except me. It is strictly against company policy to leave me behind.
Since your resignation, I have considered your tenure with me. I contemplated what might be said if you were to realize your mistake.
– How dare you come back around after saying you were not ready for a relationship?
– How could you tell me you didn’t want to have sex with me anymore because you wanted to look around? How could you not see I was a good thing, right in front of you? There was nothing to look around for.
– I hate you.
– I love you.
– Let’s take things slow.
– Let’s fuck.
It is as this point that I have to express my disappointment with your finagling with wig shopkeepers. I would be remiss if I did not mention that your deception in this matter has not improved your performance evaluation.
As you know, company policy states that evaluations are given regardless of manner of discharge: resignation or termination. In this case, you resigned before I was able to terminate you. This gives me pause. Since I cannot give your evaluation to you, I give it to the world. It is not favorable. I would hope that, though you are not officially required to do so, you would not shirk your responsibilities and give me the opportunity to say I never want to see you again. Should you do this, your performance rating would dramatically increase.
I hope that you will be able to reconsider your position and come back to me in the future. If only so I can fire you.
This whole time, I was thinking I had only recently licked my wounds from the ex of 2008. Then I remembered that last November I was developing a solid relationship with a guy who would 3 months later leave to go to Japan for a couple of years (aka the guy who left the country without telling me; I technically knew he was leaving but fuck him, he’s my story to tell now). Remember that? What fun. I called this man an asshole and he was but I still like to talk to him sometimes. I mean, he has that funny Wisconsin accent. Then the guy with the facial tic. Then that guy who diagnosed my knee problem, which would have gotten him a second date (I’m a hypochondriac) except he used “golly gee” and “holy smokes” during the conversation and I couldn’t live with that. No one could. Then there was the one I liked but it didn’t work out. Rapid fire dating. Airforce John. Oh, and remember the one who shaved his arms and had the smoothest arm skin I’ve ever seen. I’m sorry, but he was too short. 5’8 is too short for me and I know this but then I tell myself, “well maybe…” and then I remember that the height specifications I’ve set are important as soon as I meet the guy…I swear I feel as though we’re eye to eye even though he’s 9 inches above me. Aside from Gary Stubble of yesteryear, I’ve never been attracted to a short guy.
They fade quickly into mythology, don’t they?
There might be another shot at an Air Force man (too soon to tell). Mainly, it’s slow-going because I am so over putting out effort at the moment (as such, I’m ruminating over all of my lost loves, most of whom I didn’t mind losing). Ebb and flow, friends.
I have some random man’s boxers on
maybe the ex’s or any sort of reasonable facsimile
or the Gay Man
or such
The utility of men’s undergarments
the user-friendly hole in the front
pisses me off
as women are trapped in bras, lycra
panties that don’t have any ass coverage
just shoestrings
and such
Which has nothing to do with the point
which is that if woman came from Adam’s rib
isn’t Adam to blame for everything
**Admittedly a rant but only because I have a fatalistic look on love and sometimes I need to blame another gender as a distraction for blaming myself for all things terrible in relationships.** 🙂 or alternatively, 😦
The new one says
casually
I like you.
I say, I like you, too.
We continue driving
barely touching fingers.
That new one
with his easy smile
that I sense is not so easy.
The new one
who will never win my complete adoration
Typical manspeak he meant it as a compliment
It wasn’t.
He said
I like hanging out with you
and that is the same as saying
fuck you.
So this is simultaneously it
end of him, end of him
the two of them should run off together
bound by their would-be wounded souls
unchained to my inconvenience and instability.
I should give the international one’s number
to the local one
both law enforcement sorts
I entrapped them both
sue me.
Or better yet
leave me.
I know I was jilted because of my freckles, at least once.
Two, maybe four, times for my hair.
They always said they liked short girls but when you’re trying to get laid, that’s probably the thing to say.
Let me reiterate. Air Force John was a douche. His hobbies included cuddling, talking about a possible mental breakdown, and watching Wifeswap. I give him respect for getting drunk with a priest.
Any insecurity you have is the exact
reason you’ve been jilted.
Trust me, it was the gargantuan zit you had on your face that killed it
for him.
This other guy, he fished all day and called himself self-employed. He lived off his father and got fat. His picture was super old, which led to unbearable disappointment. His hobbies included swatting away giant roaches that were on the booth I was sitting in and spouting on endlessly about his political viewpoints, which were not favorable to Hil (I set him straight).
Seriously, don’t make excuses for him.
It’s all you.
One guy was a decent date aside from his gaunt appearance and bulging bug eyes. I’m not sure what his hobbies were because the two times I saw him, I kept thinking of words that rhymed with his last name (Ooouly). I didn’t come up with anything. Another guy ate a raw steak he did not want (spent the whole dinner grimacing and choking it down despite my helpful suggestion that he could send the plate back), ate all foods with his hands, and got hammered enough that I drove myself home in his car. I didn’t want to know what his hobbies were, but clearly he was breaking up with me in the form of my breaking up with him.
It never matters who’s actually done the jilting.
It’s your terrible foot odor and your misaligned posture that did it in.
You’re not graceful, as evidenced in your many, many injuries resulting
from painful, full-scale fall-downs.
This is all your fault.
I felt trapped in a parking lot downtown after a so-so dinner with this one dude. Nice, but no thanks. His hobbies included sticking his cold dead fish tongue down my throat and not anticipating that when kissing a girl, you should keep in mind that her mouth is not the size of a horse’s. Don’t worry. For his efforts, I bit him.
All of which bring us back you (and me).
I support the anti-bullshit; you’re not that pretty.
If you think you are satisfied in your relationship, I suggest looking at
the cellulite in your thighs one more time.
It could be the end.
Oh, I hope he responds. It’s true. I’m anticipating a fight. I’m anticipating starting and fanning the flames of a fight. It’s entertainment. Plus, he’s just some guy. I have been used in most of my relationships with men (not all), so why shouldn’t I use some guy who wants me to be someone I’m not?
Oh, cynicism. When people call me cynical, I say thank you. It’s quite the compliment.
(Go ahead, say it. I’ll be beaming. You’ll make me a happy girl. Don’t you want me to be a happy girl?)
Now, I do feel as though the above comment is slightly sexual in nature and I don’t know you like that (as my sugar daddy, dear reader) so I really should take it down a notch.
What I’m saying is I find it frustrating when a man is stubborn about not wanting to argue with me. Hmmm. I know I can find a soft spot to poke; I just have to think. Think!
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: