same ol' song and dance

football practice was superb. not because of the fabulous bodies but because I actually worship the sport. the players were quite nice to look at, don’t get me wrong. but college boys are too young for even me (i’ve decided to cap myself at 25. 24 if he’s tall and looks like he could be 25). besides, if i was going to date any man on that field, it would be pete carroll. he is my older gentleman crush.

i attended/participated in my third wedding of the summer this past weekend. it was a creole-vietnamese union, so there was a mix of both cultures in the ceremony, food, etc. in honor of new orleans, there was a drink called the hurricane. in honor of being single, i drank several of them. i’m not a drinker at all, but this was quite the beverage. and after three ceremonies of people pledging undying love and “i don’t know how i lived before you,” a drink named after a natural disaster was fitting. now i am officially on wedding hiatus.

monday, the ex came over to “hang some more stuff.” this was the final chapter in our home depot-style rendezvous. after he’d hung everything imaginable and i’d performed the devinyls’ “i touch myself” (complete with vocals and dancing) and berlin’s “take my breath away” (by request), i was prepared to send him out the door with a carnitas burrito and a smile. i was! but he stuck around and started poking my sides, which led to a round of fisticuffs, which led to him throwing me over his shoulder and tossing me onto the bed, which should have led to us making out but did not. instead, it led to yet another round of fisticuffs, which led to him picking me up and putting me in the bathtub and threatening to turn the water on, which seeing as how there were no lights on in the bathroom, should have led to us making out but did not. then i tried to sock him in his manly bits, which led to him dragging me into the kitchen and putting my head in the sink and again threatening with the water, and again since there were no lights on in the kitchen…you know where i’m going (re-reading this, i realize you might feel compelled to call an abuse hotline. worry not. it’s all in good fun). finally, he hugged me and left. seconds later, there was a knock on the door. i opened it to find him standing there. “wait,” he said. already i’m thinking, “is he going to kiss me? how romantic!” he raced up the stairs toward me, put his head in the doorway and asked, “where’s my hat?” i told him i didn’t know where his stupid hat was, which was a lie; i’d hid it. yes, we’re 5 year olds. i know!

and now i think i need to put an end to this. no more seeing him. really, what will it get me? i will just continue to get sugar highs when i’m with him, then crash and burn afterward, smoldering for days. who knew it would be so unhealthy to have so much fun with someone? so in an effort to temper my masochistic ways, i’ll have to say “so long, sweetness.” but now that everything has been hung, that shouldn’t be a problem…

i desperately need some pinkberry RIGHT NOW in L.A.