Keep It In Your Pants !

30 07 2009

I saw two pairs of balls on trucks today.
This is something I really do not understand.
I mean, I get it, you’re trying to exercise your masculinity…
by hanging testicles on your yellow (WTF) Dodge.

BUMPERNUTS.COM YA'ALL !

BUMPERNUTS.COM YA'ALL !

I don’t think it works.
For two reasons.
First of all, the balls are always incredibly disproportionate to the size of the truck. If I met a man with the proportions of this truck in bed:

OOO I'm Dazzled By The Extremely Shiny/Small Balls You have.

OOO I'm Dazzled By The Extremely Shiny/Small Balls You have.

I would be seriously unimpressed, worried about debilitations as well as possible diseases and obviously curious…
Do they work ?
At what age did they stop growing, like, seven ?
(I haven’t watching the time line of balls growing so I’m not sure exactly what would be the most appropriate age to estimate.)
Does this mean I can’t get preggers ?
Can it double as a coin purse ?
Okay… I’m sorry… that was a little much…
MY BAD, OKAY, DUDE, THEY’RE CUTE, RELAX.
Sheeeesh, it ain’t myyy fault you’re packing a satchel of pistachios in your loins.

So, yes, your truck has balls.
Small ones.
You might as well have screwed a pussy on it.

Secondly, the fact you have to show you have balls by buying a pair for your truck is a sign that you have weird man baggage.
Yes, you, Mister “I Can Crush A Eighteen Pack Of Kid Rock’s Bad Ass Beer Cause I’m So Bad Ass I Drink Bad Ass Beer RAWWRRR I’M MANLY give me a Manwich !”, you have self esteem issues.
It’d be cute if it didn’t come with a furry avalanche of pale guts hanging out over your Von Dutch belt and inclinations to also employ your masculinity all over my face.

So in a nut sack (heh), what I am saying is
you look like a wife beater with the endowment of a elementary school student.

Now, beyond the fact that I can’t even fathom why any self-respecting man would purchase these hideous things, it is even less comprehensible why anyone would want blue balls.

Haven't Seen A Pair Of These Since Freshman Year Ya'All.

Haven't Seen A Pair Of These Since Freshman Year Ya'All.

I don’t know what they say to you but what they say to me is,
You have blue balls ?
Why would you want to advertise that ?
Do you not have the social skills to land a date ?
Do you not have the sexual skills to move past first base ?
Are you fifteen in gym class ?

I DON’T UNDERSTAND !!!
THE BRASS ONES… FINE !!!
YOU’RE A DOUCHE BAG, WHATEVER !!!
BUT BLUE ONES ?!?!

Facepalm, bro.
FACE
PALM.

I have nothing else to elaborate on because I am seriously dumbfounded by these weird and unwarranted Busch league showcases of shammed “brute strength”.


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Another Tangent About Banks (h8 3m s000 h4rd).

27 07 2009

So, the other week I thought I got an epic job opportunity to review porn.
The email said I had to sign up for this site to review, which I could then cancel within three days.
For an extra $1400 a month, I was definitely going to try to get this job.
So, I sign up for Thong Bang, write my review and cancel the account like it ain’t a thang.
Which it wasn’t.
Until Friday, while trying to figure out what to write a blog about, I decided to mosey on over to my Wells Fargo bookmark and check out my monetary standings.
Which I then found were completely insufficient and overdrawn.
BUT HOW ?!?! I’ve been so fucking frugal it’s retarded !!!
But supposedly I bought:

ERRONEOUS CHARGES AGAINST MY GOOD NAME !!!

ERRONEOUS CHARGES AGAINST MY GOOD NAME !!!

A SEX MACHINE ?!
REALLY WELLS FARGO ?!
I’VE BEEN BANKING WITH YOU SINCE I WAS FUCKING TWELVE.
YOU SHOULD KNOW BY NOW THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I WOULD EVER NEED A SEX MACHINE.
I AM IRRESISTIBLE TO ANY DUDE IN A 2.5 MILE RADIUS
(ie: likes Ariel Pink, is impressed my dog is named Zissou and can’t believe I know who Lester Bangs is [like o m g]).

So much for a “real personal banking experience”.

Anyway, I call up Wells Fargo and tell them that I did not make these outrageous purchases (OBVIOUSLY) and dispute the charges.
So, they cancel my card and say, well, they still have to charge me for it all plus the overdrafts until the dispute has been researched, which wouldn’t happen until today.
So I say, uh, well, how do you expect me to pay overdraft fees when all my money was just STOLEN and the $15 I have to my name at this point I can’t even go to a bank to deposit because
1. The banks are closed.
2. You canceled my ATM card so I can’t even use the ATM to try to cover it.

So then, Miss “I’m A Banker And I Am Brilliant With Money Management And You Obviously Aren’t Since Your Credit Card Bill Is Two Months Over Due And You Only Have $15 To Your Name” asks if I want to take care of the matter of my new checks.

Flustered and furiated and wanting to just get off the phone, I say yes.
She asks me what kind of checks I’d want.
I say something smart ass about needing Taz checks, none of that Bugs Bunny shit.
She says they do have Taz checks.
I say, great, I’ll take them.
She says, awesome, that’ll be $25.
I say, just kidding about the Taz designs.
She says, okay, $21.

ARE YOU SERIOUS WOMAN ?!
You just got done giving me the first parental lecture I’ve had in years about responsibility and my lack of funds and now you have the audacity to ask me for twenty something dollars you can SEE I don’t have ?!

I was livid and said “FUCK YOUR CHECKS BITCH !”

Nah,
I let out an exasperated sigh and said,
“SCREW YOUR CHECKS TRICK !”

At any rate, I’m not getting Taz checks, which is the real travesty here.

Luckily, I found this high quality temporary tattoo to quell my anguish.

HAUTE TATCOUTURE.

HAUTE TATCOUTURE.


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Did Dudefriend & I Breakup Via IChatz ?!?!!!

27 07 2009

So, Dudefriend & I got into a big fight over AIM.
I don’t even know what this means.
I am so confused.

Ugh. Not AGAIN.

Ugh. Not AGAIN.

Dudefriend: i got accosted by an old woman, cornered me and everything.
Dudefriend: even pinched my cheek
Dudefriend: she wanted some bone bad
Me: do i need to beat some cougar ass ?!?
Dudefriend: could smell the testosterone from a mile away
Dudefriend: no baby not cougar – grandma aged
Me: gross !
Dudefriend: were talking 65 plus, calling me handsome, asking about girls.
Dudefriend: im like ‘trying to eat my lettuce wrap’
Dudefriend: so we had a quickie in the bano and i rolled out
Dudefriend: little worried too, im starting to itch
Me: great.
Me: fucking great.
Me: you will be the second dude to cheat on me with a lady over 40 and now
Me: i’m going to have a century old case of herpes.
Me: fucking great.
Dudefriend: sorry baby, she paid me 300 dollars though
Dudefriend: I DID IT FOR US!
Me: alright then
Me: sigh
Me: fucking we’re going to have to spend it on meds.
Dudefriend: her puss was so loose and saggy, all i could really do was rub it on a wall
Dudefriend: i might be ok
Me: that was so disgusting.
Me: i want you to know that
Dudefriend: if i cannot talk about these issues with ladyfriend, who can i talk with
Me: well you can but im telling you it was disgusting
Dudefriend: YOU THINK IM PROUD MARISSA
Me: I DONT KNOW YOU SOUND LIKE IT
Me: HUMPING GRANDMAS
Me: IN BATHROOMS
Me: JESUS CHRIST
Dudefriend: its like you don’t even understand me
Dudefriend: did u ever understand me marissa?
Dudefriend: what are we even doing?
Me: I THOUGHT I DID
Me: I DONT EVEN KNOW ANYMORE
Me: HAVING A LOT OF SEX AND SMOKING WEED APPARENTLY.
Dudefriend: weed is good, sex = mediocre
Me: well then…
Dudefriend: bertha can hump the chrome off of a trailor hitch
Me: i guess i can find someone appreciative to use the rest of those twisted trojans on.
Dudefriend: thats fucking cold marissa – ice cold
Dudefriend: those are ours – and we will finish the pack before we separate.
Me: YEAH WELL
Me: YOU’RE BEATING GEEZER GUTS
Me: IN BATHROOMS
Me: whatever. they’ll be gone by the time you get to my house to get your laundry i ever so lovingly dried for you this morning.

– - -

Big sad, flustered emoticon right here.

I don’t know what to do in these situations !!!
Like I said, this is the SECOND time I’ve gotten shafted for an older woman.
IT’S NOT LIKE THESE PERKY YOUNG TWENTY SOMETHING YEAR OLD ASSETS ARE GOING TO BE AROUND FOREVER AND I’M GETTING PUSHED ASIDE FOR CHARACTERS FROM ARSENIC & OLD LACE !!!

So humiliating.
The last time this happened, I dumped the douche but I don’t want to dump Dudefriend. I mean, he has a lot of other redeeming qualities, like always carrying a flask and crafting me new business cards.

Do I sweep it under the rug ?
Is this really ‘all my fault’ ?
Did I drive him to subscribe to Over 50 ?
Am I going to start ‘having accidents with the refrigerator door’ now ?
Do you think he’ll keep buying me weed ?
UGHHH I JUST DON’T KNOW IF I CAN DATE A PROSTITUTE.
BUT I CAN’T GO BACK TO DATING JOBLESS, PHONELESS, CARLESS MUSICIANS !!!

WOE IS ME.
(Can someone cue that Rilo Kiley song plz ?)


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Shameless Plugging. Whatever. Like You Wouldn’t Expect It From The Likes Of Me.

23 07 2009

Dudefriend: some bitch from indiepit is trying to follow me on twitter
Dudefriend: fuck that
Me: HEY I HEAR SHE DOES A GOOD JOB.
Dudefriend: i dont know her
Me: she has a crush on you.
Dudefriend: thats too bad – i just started dating this fucking wackjob in Echo Park. Not sure what i was thinking – bitch got baggage. But… having sex on the reg, pounding drinks on the reg, smokin weed on the reg. Plus she has a cute dog too named Zenith or Zeus or Bearcathy or something.

IndiePit.com

IndiePit.com

Not too long ago I got teamed up with some outstanding cats on this project called Indie Pit.

IndiePit is a website that gives bands the tools they need to be self-sufficient in this day & age of DIY music and also gets fans in touch with their favorite artists. It’s a really great website and I think it’s going to be a part of the technological revolution in the music industry.

Right now the IndiePit Blog is blowing up. They are featuring a lot of awesome bands and tons of MP3s. My favorite this week comes from this band called The Drums. They are so new age indie low fi surf rock goodness it feels like my ears and joyfully crying sugar when I listen to them. Ugh.

So, I know, it’s kind of lame, but this is something I am really happy to be a part of and you should go check it out. I’m being serious. I mean, I was a little skeptical because I lost out on the blog editing position so for a second I was like rawr rawr…. oh shit, this guy knows what’s up.

And you should too.
So,
Follow IndiePit on Twitter !


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Bitch, You Just TwitterBerried Like Eight Times. Don’t Act Like You Didn’t Get My Text.

21 07 2009
H8 U s0000 h4rd.

H8 U s0000 h4rd.

First and foremost, I want to say, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to hang out with me or talk to me or whatever. I get it- when we’re drunk and I’m being ridiculously entertaining, it’s hard not to get my number and tell me you don’t want to hang out with me when in reality, you may just not have the time to fit another contact into your busy schedule of rubbing elbows with third string directors’ assistants and networking with all those infomercial extras. It’s cool, I don’t mind, I’ve been in this town long enough to have a thick skin.

But if you want to be flakey,
I just want to give you a little tip:
STOP TWITTERING.

It’s totally ruining your “OMG I TOTALLY DIDN’T GET THAT! SRRY! THIS WEEKEND?!<3XOXO" next-day-Facebook-comment vibe.

You just blew up my live feed with like sixteen tweets bitching about some broad wearing your Forever21 dress like it was a god damned custom tailored Stella McCartney so you pretending that your IPhone suddenly wasn’t super glued to your sticky touch-screened jam hands all night is a bold stated LIE and an automatic UNFOLLOW IN LIFE.

TAKE THAT MISTER DOUBTING MUSTAFA !

(If you’re a dude and you get this reference without Googling, I will be six times more likely to make out with you. If you’re a girl and you don’t get this reference, well, you obviously were not raised correctly / don’t have the delusional Disney ideals I have.)

I’m hoping that these sorts of instances with Twitter will lead to a widespread epidemic of a little thing called honesty in which we can simply be civil to one another and just have some balls and text back.
Something simple, you know, like
“I’m sorry, I’m busy tonight”
or “I never want to be inside of you again”.

You know, common courtesies.


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A Tangent About People Not Taking A Hint.

20 07 2009
WHAT DON'T YOU GET ?! I'M IGNORING YOUR ASS.

WHAT DON'T YOU GET ?! I'M IGNORING YOUR ASS.

Dude, you have left me like four messages a day for the past week.
I haven’t called you back and I am going to continue to ignore your calls
because I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU.
WE HAVE NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT, ALRIGHT ?!

I just can’t give you what you want.
It’s plain and simple.
For years, I’ve been giving and giving but now,
I have nothing left to give you !
I have worked hard to try to make up for what I took from you.
I know, I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.
But it didn’t feel that I wasn’t asking for much
& even my dad said it was a good idea.
BUT IT WASN’T.
I admit it: I was wrong.
Maybe I still am wrong…
I don’t even know anymore.

I just know that we’re stressing each other out.
I can hear it in your messages.
And I know you know when I am forwarding you to my voice mail
because I don’t even try to hide it.
I straight up press ignore.
But it’s just gotten to a point where it is like,

I DON’T HAVE YOUR FUCKING MONEY WELLS FARGO !!!
I DIDN’T HAVE THE $120 AT 8 AM OR NOON
OR FOUR THIRTY THREE AND I SURE AS HELL DON’T NOW !!!

Goddd, you’re worse than that ex boyfriend after he took five Xani-bars and snorted an eight ball and proceeded to call me literally, LITERALLY, a hundred and seventy times in less than twenty four hours.

Okay, maybe not.
I think collectively you’ve only called me
twenty four times in, like, eight days.
So, you’re not THAT crazy.
But that doesn’t mean much cause you’re still crazy.
So, just do us both a favor and chill the fuck out for a minute.

Wells Fargo, I promise,
you’ll be the first one I notify
as soon as I have a spare buck twenty for you.

Unfortunately, right now, it looks like those dollars
are going towards more important things.
Specifically Maker’s Mark and designer lubricants.
Srry<3


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Yeah, I Was Trippin’.

20 07 2009
Yep. Even me.

Yep. Even me.

Today I am featured on Women Be Trippin’s podcast because although I’m known for make shift flasks of whiskey and spittin’ dude jive, I do in fact have a illogical girl side which you can go explore along with Eddie & Jake and marvel at my feminine foolishness.

I was really trippin’ last week.
But this week I’ve got that J-1 blazin’ & two baby Red Bulls so let’s get on the good foot…


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Dear Valued Readers,

18 07 2009

First and foremost,
Happy One Year Anniversary Tangents & The Times!

Secondly, as some of you may have noticed, there has been an unusual lack of activity recently in regards to Miss A. Ross’ social media endeavors. From my interactions with her, I can tell you she has slipped into a bender of Bright Eyes, Tecates and general loathing- which is not a common characteristic of our comedic and unconventional columnist. She is known for her sunny disposition but of late her attitude has shifted from sanguine to insufferable, mostly on account of her father mysteriously leaving the mortgage business to become a hunting guide. From what I have been able to make out from her blazing bacchanalian banter, apparently Mr. Ross called her on a Wednesday to say he was moving to Montana indefinitely the following day. Last week, Miss A. Ross was informed her father had been kicked out of Yellowstone National Park for undisclosed allegations (rumored to pertain to peace disturbances and smashed cases of Caymus 2006 Special Selection Cabernet Sauvignon) and is now returning with his 1894 engraved Action & Barrel Winchester rifle and a duffel bag of broken dreams.

Aside from her family issues that resemble a plot straight out of Arrested Development, Miss A. Ross has been struggling monetarily due to her rambunctious rental car antics, her frivolous Fashion For Eva expenditures and a recent debacle at her place of employment, rendering it impossible for her to upkeep her lifestyle of decadence and depravity thus sweeping her “heart spaces” with a series of downtrodden weather systems, casting a cyclogenesis on her sweet soul.

These circumstances compacted with Miss A. Ross’ menstrual pattern have turned her into, for lack of better words, a God damned mess. Subsequently, when I asked her to produce a video blog for her site’s one year anniversary, this is what she produced:

I believe Miss A. Ross will be back to her normal overtly confident self in no time, when she is not being molested by her own emotions, which I have never seen her lose control of until now.

But at the end of the day, I am pleased to say we have survived our first year with our readership growing on a daily basis (no matter how much Miss A. Ross jokes about her six Google readers) and I am pleased to be a part of this project. I know Miss A. Ross takes great pride in her work here, as silly, slapdashed and scatterbrained as it may seem from time to time.

And so, until the next time my favorite agent provocateur of a client gets mischievous or melancholy, I bid thee farewell.

Best,
Adin Hunter

Miss A. Ross’ editor, pyrotechnics supervisor and vibrational therapist.


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Year One Preface.

16 07 2009

Today is Tangents & The Times one year anniversary.
A whole year later, I am looking out the same window that caused this whole catastrophe of written word to ever even happen.
It’s been a difficult day.
Vidz to come.
<3


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Categories : Announcements, Tangents & The Times

While You’re Waiting For My Next Spectaular Blog…

15 07 2009

Check this out.
This is me.
TEXTING WHILE HULA HOOPING DRUNK !!!

ECHO PARK'S GOT TALENT !

ECHO PARK'S GOT TALENT !

[Photo Credit: Dudefriend <3]

Yeup.
Twelve Tecates deep on a Sunday afternoon in the company of good friends.
Had to show off my skillz.
I did it twice actually.
The first I decided wasn't really a win since it just said "That Cool".
So, my second said "EEEEYYYYYYYOOOHHHHH BITCHES !!!"
which I believe is better example of a complete sentence.


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“My Car Just Hit A Water Buffalo.”

13 07 2009

Chevy,
chase away the blues I’ve collected with the costs I have incurred from my lackadaisical approach to car rentals.

YES YOU !!!

YES YOU !!!

Apparently, what I consider “normal wear ‘n tear”
is actually regarded as “considerable damage”.

Five hundred bucks of it.
On a damn COROLLA.
How the hell does that even happen ?!
I thought that was an economy car.
Economically, if I had realized when I caused the seemingly minimal scratches that these would not be seen as the sort of regular happenstance that comes with operating motor vehicles, I would have paid less to just have the car stolen and dropped off in an abandoned lot in two weeks, thus exonerating my responsibility & saving me approximately $450 dollars.

But alas, I did not drive by the local Home (Day Laborer) Depot that flipped my light bulb until after I had already dropped the car off and was forced to sign a lot of paperwork, documenting my supposed fault in the matter with a series of signatures and flimsy affidavits that I used to claim that the offense should actually be taken up with the city of Los Angeles, who maintain these shitty streets and their terrible road conditions, consequently fucking up my rental.

& so, I am going to watch Fletch & try to not think about impending monetary disasters & know that something good is about to happen.
Like getting $50,000 offers for murder.
That might solve things (?).

Hours Later…

YES !
I WIN !
Man, okay, so I didn’t get any outrageous proposals for ridiculous amounts of money, but I talked to my stock broker who let me know that although making less that $1000 isn’t really considered a “success” in the stock market world, it’s a huge fucking success in the world of a writer that owes Midway Car Rental more money that she can very well afford at this given time (it’s summer… all my money is tied up in marijuana).

Thanks Chevy Chase for helping me laugh enough to stop crying and start thinking !


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Condoms Are To Ladies As Tampons Are To Dudes.

9 07 2009

I’m a pretty secure person but if there is one thing
that is really embarrassing for me,
it is buying condoms.
I’m pretty sure it is my equivalent to a dude buying tampons.

The worst is when they have to unlock the cabinet for you.
And there isn’t a stoned stock boy shelving generic fruit loops anywhere
and you have to go to like, the information desk.
Apprehensively, you approach the cow who’s chewing her gum like cud,
looking at you like you’re a bitch she saw on The Hills.
“Excuse me, I was wondering if I could get someone
to open up one of the glass cases for me?”
“Which one ?”
“Um… the one in aisle… six.”
She grabs the intercom.
“SUZANNE, A GIRL NEEDS CONDOMS.”

Seriously, you couldn’t keep it tactful ?!
There isn’t a code word or something ?!

Without hesitation you scurry off and loiter discreetly around the shadow box of sexual protection as to not alarm any of the stroller slingers in the shampoo isle with their curious eight year olds until you see Suzanne, a portly middle aged cat owner. She doesn’t tell you this but you know this, as she is the night manager of Jons.

Then she starts in on some small talk,
lamenting about when she was “your size”
and how she was a “real man eating bone hopper”
and you better “savor your glory days”.
Which is just awkward… I mean, what the hell do you say to that ?
I’m sorry Burger King isn’t the foundation of my food pyramid ?

So, you get your condoms and then,
you have to deal with actually purchasing them.

There is something about this that instantly makes me feel like a slut. It’s probably because it’s always a dude behind the counter that is either like seventy years old and looks like he wants to card me because I look sixteen, sans makeup in a Little House On The Prairie sundress or it’s some seventeen year old that jokes I forgot the KY Warming Lube, which is only embarrassing because then I realize I did in fact forget it and have to give up my place in line to that woman behind me who plays tennis with my mom on Wednesdays that inevitably recognizes me despite my efforts to stare directly at the Travertine and wants to play catch up about why I quit the swim team nine years ago as I unsuccessfully try to mask the fact the only things i have in my hands are Sour Patch Kids, whiskey and Her Pleasure Trojans.

Luckily for me, I don’t really ever have to do this.
1. Because finding worthy dudes in this town
is like finding a true-to-size pair of Cheap Mondays.
&
2. Because I stocked up at the AVN convention.

I think the only way to accurately depict the way
number two makes me feel is by combining
Kramer’s enthusiasm
with Elaine’s disgust,
Jerry’s skepticism
and George’s hope.

Yeah, I can’t decide if having a collection of condoms from a smut summit
makes me look prepared or like a prostitute.
It could really go either way.
I guess it depends on whether he’s too ugly not to charge.


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Twilight Fashion Fails.

8 07 2009

Do you know how disturbing it is to see this t-shirt on not one,
but TWO middle aged women walking along Beverly this morning ?

Mother's Day '09 Best Seller ?

Mother's Day '09 Best Seller ?

Lady, I understand in your banana brains that you think it’s okay to lust after a twenty year old dude because in fairytale land he’s really like 400 years older than you or something.
But in all reality, you’re still the mother of four with a fupa.
Sorry but it’s true, the glory days of you banging hot barely legal ass ended long before the Snap Bracelet was even a twinkle in Stuart Ander’s eyes.

But you know what is creepier ?

Baby Shower Best Seller '09 ?

Baby Shower Best Seller '09 ?

There are no words to describe how frightening this is to me.

You realize that Edward is a vampire.
Vampires drink blood and fuck.
HAVEN’T YOU EVER WATCHED THE HISTORY CHANNEL ?!
Jesus.
And you’re putting this on your baby.
Let me guess,
You got knocked up at junior prom last year ?


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A Tangent About Sleeping Faux Pas & Pseudo-Dumpings.

7 07 2009

It’s always kind of stressful the first time a guy sleeps over for me. Mostly because getting through the evening takes some brainpower during my Z’s. This may seem a little crazy, yeah, it probably is but do you want me to wake up with my bangs sticking out all over the place like a seventh grade boy with too much gel in his hands circa 1999?

Because I would rather
you not see me like that.

Granted, I would be sans frosted tips but reminiscent of Lady Liberty all the same. Also, I’d prefer to be pillow mark free without the random deep-sleep, solitary snort that my brain immediately registers as “Holy shit you just let out a fucking snort” and I wake up out of self-inflicted terror. I would also like to not drool all over you. I’m not necessarily a drooler per se, but there is always the off chance it could happen. I mean, just fall asleep in the wrong position and you could wake up in a slough of slobber.

Seriously.
That happened to me.
That’s what started all this !!!
It was probably the single-handedly
most embarrassing moment of my “dating” life…

Somehow fell asleep kind of in between my pillow and this particular dude’s shoulder or something of the sort. I sleep on my stomach so my face got kind of wedged in there face down and subsequently, the next morning, there was an entire spill of spit allllll over the fitted sheet. Not the pillow, the freaking fitted sheet. Can’t just turn that shit over. It’s there, right between dude and me. Keep in mind the dude is against the wall so the only way out, is through the flood damage. So, I did the only logical thing, which was to ball up my pillow under my arms and prop my chin on it, using it to cover my less than sexy seepage soak.
He didn’t say anything and I thought I got away with it.

I was stoked!!!

Until less than a week later he dumped me,
even though I wasn’t his girlfriend
(no matter what he says now).

He told me he was going back to Jesus and couldn’t keep seeing me (sleeping with me) and then like a real asshole put on the Strokes’ “Under Control”
(I mean, really?! That’s just unnecessary and cruel)
and my eyes welled up with tears
as we walked out of my room and then he said,
“Oh, yeah, and I know you drooled everywhere
and tried to cover it up the other morning.”

If I had had balls,
this would have been
a fucking ninja flying sugar glider kick to them.
Do you know how humiliating that was ?!
To be called out on that shit like five days
after I thought I was home free
AFTER being pseudo-dumped ?!

Ugh and being pseudo dumped is an entire travesty on it’s own.

It’s like alright,
you couldn’t treat me like a girlfriend
yet you’re going to dump me like one.
Cool. That makes a whole lot of fucking sense.
Give me half this whole time
& then a full blow right here at the end.

What, you got a conscience all of a sudden?
Feel I “deserve” this moment?
You couldn’t just keep being an asshole
and stop returning my calls could you?
You had to unexpectedly “respect me”, didn’t you ?!
Well, you know what?
Thank you.

You’re so kind.

Your incredible virtue is exactly what is going to make me ignore your texts next week when you realize that Jesus isn’t going to be there to shack up with you after a long night at the Short Stop.

I’m not sure if the two are directly correlated but just in case,
I’m definitely implementing preemptive nasal sprays.
Can’t take any chances.


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Categories : Tangents & The Times

Dear Valued Readers,

3 07 2009

Miss A. Ross will be out for the weekend due to the “stress” from publishing her very personal posts recently
(So she claims. I am under the impression from knowing Miss A. Ross intimately that her absence is actually due to her affinity for Fourth of July’s annual barrage of barbecues and boozing).

I believe she is relatively stable although after viewing her stats from yesterday, she did take off her shirt and proceeded to “bro down with Captain Morgan like any other red blooded hip-ass bitch” and leave the office.

Casual Friday 2.0

Casual Friday 2.0

Please be advised, Miss A. Ross will probably be out of control for the next thirty-six hours, undoubtedly exhibiting exaggerated egocentricity and vulgarity, claiming she is a Jedi and counting her wins as she parades around in her “Hair-Shirt” on the streets of Echo Park and drinking in public until such activities are forced to cease and desist by local authorities (she has no respect for “common folk demands”).

She also flat out does not have internet at her home (she spent the cable money on a bottle of Midleton, Very Rare like every other responsible barely working blogger).

Please follow her on twitter for further information.

And in closing, on behalf of Miss A. Ross, I wish you
“a winning weekend full of fireworks, fraternizing and fiendish fun”.

Regards,
Adin Hunter

Miss A. Ross’ editor, begrudged Consigliere and delegated decoy driver.


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Categories : Announcements, Letters from the Editor, Tangents & The Times

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