I FUCKING HATE TOMS

You fail at LIFE if these are on your feet. 

MY "REAL" HALLOWEEN COSTUME

One thing I seem to have forgot to mention in my prior post, was the answer I gave when asked (subconsciously) was what my Halloween costume was. After a moment's thought...it appeared in my mind...A Disinterested Doorman in a Trendy Neighborhood. SCARY! Actually, what was scary is that I busted out a H&M stripped shirt (orange & black - Freddy style) from last season! EEEK!

OK, so I'm just fucking around about that being scary. What was a bit on the SCARY side was the conversation that followed the day after, on Sunday. While on the phone with my Father, he asked: "have you had a flu shot yet"? To which I replied: "...uh, fuck no...never had one...why would I?" Honestly, I never even considered it.

Fast forward a few hours post the awful Bear's game (UGH) and I was in bed around 10PM. That's always a bad sign when I'm asleep at that early of an hour. The next morning, my eyes flutter open 'round about 8AM...and...HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I jumped out of bed, sprinted to the bathroom and promptly did my best impersonation of the girl from "The Exorcist":

Assuming you'd rather not read about the contents of my stomach that almost went into the toilet/sink/waste basket/floor, let's just say it wasn't pretty, and I only today finished cleaning up the mess. Sweet Jesus. I spent the next 48+ hours writhing in bed, sweating, shivering, aching, bitching and sipping on water. It was quite a roller coaster ride. And I'm grateful no one besides myself had to visually experience it.

OH - and I'm MUCH better now! Thanks, Dad!

STICKS & STONES

OK...before I get going here, I'd like to address a recent issue. Yesterday I was left a really unfortunate comment, one which I chose not to publish; that being said, I will comment upon it. {original post here} But first, here's the comment:

"Nice bit of hypocrisy there. Drunk as hell but draws the line at poppers. I suppose that means you do have some principles... not sure where you keep them tho."

First off, it's spelled T-H-O-U-G-H. Secondly, choosing not to do drugs I've never tried before, with a random person, in an unusual enviorment, did not, nor still appeals to me. THOUGH I was "drunk as hell" I still had the good sense not to get into a potentially fucked-up situation.

You can question my morals, or lack thereof, or my principals...but don't call me a HYPOCRITE (unless you also would like to labeled as one). And that's not because I'm not one, I am indeed. But you know what? With the right kind of angle, anyone can be viewed as a hypocrite.

Even you.

SHIT IS REAL YO!

While I have yet to utter the words "you're my boyfriend" to "Joey", it certainly feels like that is exactly what we are. My friends keep asking me "so, is he your boyfriend?" and so far I have offered vague responses. But if you ask me right now if he is, well, I would have to say FUCK AND YES!

This revelation did not result from some dramatic display of affection, such as a "Say Anything" moment:

But there didn't need to be. Last night we were a little drunk, laying on my couch watching TV, his arms wrapped around mine...it just felt so, normal. Or maybe a better word is "right". Though it's still early in our relationship, I have yet to feel so "right" with another guy.

My past experiences with dating men have taught me to be careful, perhaps even hesitant, but with "Joey" there is none of that. OK, maybe there is a tiny bit of doubt, but with every phone call, every kiss, every little thing he does serves to prove to me that this shit is indeed real.

On Thursday a good friend of mine (Go D!) having met "Joey" says to me "I can tell he really likes you". And if it wans't already blatantly, annoying obvious, I like him. Very. Much.

Time to bust out the boombox! My choice is this song:

MORE VOMIT INDUCING DETAILS

On Monday Night I had plans to take Joey out to dinner. But seeing as I'm unemployed, he's broke and it was raining like there was no tomorrow, we decided to "eat in". Dinner consisted of a mini frozen pizza and 2 bottles of wine.

Though I'm not much of wine drinker (I prefer whiskey and beer, yeah, I'm classy like that) I got nicely buzzed, and the sound of the falling rain contributed greatly to the overall romantic vibe of the evening, the balance of which was spent on the Joey's couch...

Nothing was on TV so we decided to watch a movie, eventually settling on "Running Scared" which is one of my favorite cops-n-robbers set in Chicago flicks.

Admittedly, it's not a very romantic movie (unless you have a crush on Jimmi Smits (which I kinda do) but really, we could have been watching static and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference. We made out like we were in high school, on and off, for literally hours.

Making out to this montage, with "Man Size Love" playing in the background was really funny and just barely ironic.

Of course, we ended up in his bed were we made "hot man sexy times". It wasn't even 50 degrees outside, and despite the windows being open we generated enough heat to light a small house for a year.

We were sweating like we were playing basketball; the things this boy is capable of [eyes involuntarily roll to the back of my head] literally blows my mind. So I guess what I'm saying is the sex was good. Great even. No, it was AWESOME!

Even better though was the simple act of waking up next to him in the morning. The sun came out and was streaming in through his window, falling on his adorable face and sexy pecs. Is it creepy that I like watching him sleep? I don't think so, but I could be wrong.

After Joey's alarm went off for the 5th time, he reluctantly got out of bed to get ready for work, while I snuggled in his bed. And when he came out of the shower, my naked ass was peeking out from under the covers, and he says "good morning sleeping booty".

It was cute but after typing that even I want to hurl. I can't wait to see him tomorrow night!