Boys and Adjectives

As a single girl who sleeps very poorly, I get bored a lot, so I end up on Omegle at odd hours, with a beer in hand. I've had a few great convos there, like the night I laughed until I cried while three dudes from Texas acted like three dudes from Texas.

But as anyone who's been there can tell you, it's pretty much hit or miss, miss, miss, miss. Much of the time, I end up talking to a young man who assumes that me moving to Skype with them to chat verbally without Omegle's soundtrack of what must be robots tussling means that later, despite how very clothed I remained, and non-sexual our first conversation was, I want them to tell me every single time they feel a boner approaching.

I actually suspect that I could conduct this first conversation while wearing another person as my hat, and talking about nothing but my collection of stolen left socks I took from former lovers and still yield the same results.

I do expect and accept that guys, especially the younger ones, will ask to see my boobs when they meet me on video chat. It's okay, I get it. But how many times do you have to say no before it lands in a part of their brain where it's understood as an actual no?

Is deigning to spend time with me in conversation seen as some sort of currency to be exchanged for flashing my tits or fielding conversation about the pressure in his balls?

I am learning so much about men in my year of being single. Here's an example:

Wait for it ...

Everyone, just think about that sentence. "You should see what I can do with my ass hole."
Allow it to echo in your mind. It's impossible to respond to immediately.

"like a baby"!? What published work is telling men to use that phrase anywhere near a statement about their genitals?

Yep, "crimson tide" tore it for me. I've reached the point where I can no longer muster
the energy to help guide him out of the depths of uninspired futility.

I've now given you all the formula for getting a child down for a nap. Exhaust them with word salads.

What do you think? Will he message me again?

Tapas! (Slightly Australian Edition)

I dreamed ...

that I had a marsupial pouch. Less fun than you'd expect.

that after having an angry exchange with my MIL, I started sticking panty liners to the soles of my boots before leaving the house. I'll show her.

that a little girl was pouring cookie crumbs into my shoe. I didn't like that kid.

that my glasses broke into useless bits right before a big night out of karaoke, and I'd just given birth four days earlier (which I kept mentioning to everyone, all the time). I somehow blurrily made it to the venue, but once there, I realized it wasn't karaoke, it was some sort of show where the seats moved all around the theater - in Australia. At this point, nothing else was on my mind except for how I ended up in Australia when I don't even have a passport.

~~~~~

E-mails from my ex:

"Yesterday, [6-year-old]'s homework was to draw a picture of something related to fire safety. So he drew a picture of his school on fire. Also (and this was an especially nice touch) there was a gravestone in front of the school that said "R.I.P. Kid"--he said it was a boy who died in the fire. So they buried him right there, presumably as the fire continued to rage."

 

The last time I talked to this son on the phone, he informed me that petting dogs was not a real job.
He is the dasher of dreams.

"It was 94 degrees yesterday, and [5-year-old] insisted on wearing shorts a size too small, as well as his fleece jacket, zipped up. He finally took it off after a few hours, because he said his legs were getting sweaty."

"I think someone should write a sketch about if Windows 8 were a waiter at a restaurant. Constantly bringing the wrong food. Intentionally knocking forks out of patrons' hands. Trying to shove unwanted food into every open mouth. Stuff like that."

~~~~~

Also, for your viewing pleasure - and to keep things fair by posting a picture my younger son drew: 

Look at the schadenfreude evident in the face of the hammer-wielder.

Let's also talk about the fact that this is the same child who said during a phone conversation, "Hitler was a powerful man. But you are not dead."

Have you ever heard a more disturbingly German pep talk from a 5-year-old before?
Probably not in English.

~~~~~

Here's something I did on Omegle when the guy I was talking to took a phone call.

That last bit was me trying to lip-read.

~~~~~

And finally, here is the lone Omegle experience I attempted during Drunk Fest:

Crunk Frest only happens when it snows.

.

You know, tapas.

I dreamed ...

that people traveled around by sliding on their butts along all of the Swarovski crystals laying on the ground.

that I was trying to use chopsticks to drink water.

~~~~~

(while playing with a deck of cards)

4-year-old: Bingo!
5-year-old: No, you have to give me the right answer, then you can bingo and I'll bingo you.
4-year-old: *pauses for thought* Poop.
5-year-old: Correct!

~~~~~

My step-dad has an obsession with putting everything in the sink, while my mother and I prefer to leave something by the sink if we think we might use it again. I'd made a salad for my mother, but wanted to leave the cutting board and knife out, so I could make one for myself later - so I says to step-dad:

me: would you allow me to leave this stuff out? I'll make a salad for myself later.
step-dad: "allow" you? what are we, in France?

If anyone can explain to me what that means, I'd be ever so grateful.


I was left to dog-sit while my mother and step-dad took a trip to Virginia. Minutes after they arrived home, they began bickering in the kitchen as I sat in the living room.

step-dad: do you have any AA batteries?
mom: no.
step-dad: are you sure you don't any stored away somewhere?
mom: I said no!
step-dad: I just thought maybe you'd have some.
mom: will you leave me the fuck alone!
step-dad: I thought maybe you might have some, since you use them for your vibrator!
me: vibrator!

Next thing I know, my step-dad walks up to me, with his hand in his pocket saying that he has something for me. He pulls out a packet of grape-flavored Pop Rocks. Minutes later, my mother walks over and hands me some cinnamon-flavored toothpicks, and a bag of buttons. Okay, then.


~~~~~

After leaving Lowe's ...

me: This closet rod shoved next to me is really comfortable. And safe.
sister: *chortle*
me: Tomorrow, I'll get the flanges installed, re-measure, then cut the rod and get that up first. Then I'll sand down the edges of the boards, and dry fit it before I start painting it.
sister: Cool.
me: You know, that dude really softened his attitude once we had him cutting the wood for us. He said we'd do fine on the project, and I thought, "you know, you might not be an asshole."
sister: Yeah.

(medium-sized pause)

me: I think men lie. Like, all the time. They just lie.
sister: ...are we still talking about wood?

~~~~~

At the liquor store ...

male cashier: *looks at credit card* Can I see your ID?
me: it's my step-dad's card. I'm buying beer for him.
male cashier: *stares at card, unsure*
me: should we call him? He's drunk! You wanna call him?!
male cashier: *sighs*
me: seriously, I'm in here all the time, everyone knows it's not my card.
female cashier: *walks by briskly* It's true.
male cashier: *runs card*
me: did you really think I was drinking all of this Bud Lite by myself? Come on.
male cashier: ha! So is step-dad rooting for the Eagles?
me: Jets. I mean, I have no idea who he's rooting for right at this moment, but he's a Jets fan. I gotta be honest, he's probably really rooting for beer to come home.

~~~~~

I went on Omegle again.

It's not like I said I wasn't going to share.

Probably one of the more confusing things someone has said to me on Omegle.

Whoopie Goldberg is offensive to gay people?

I was getting a little grumpy by this point.

But this cheered me briefly.

.

Let's Omegle

In honor of election day, I'm going to sit here and eat Greek yogurt, be as greasy as possible, and force you to witness my new hobby: Omegle chat.

For the uninitiated, you are matched with a stranger to have a "conversation". You can also opt to be presented with a question that you discuss with a stranger, or ask a question you can watch two strangers discuss.

In my infinite boredom and insomnia, I spent a few nights skulking around this place, addicted to asking questions, and here are the results.

This is a great place to start, because it informs why the freaking hell I was even there:

As you'll see, the questions I ask, and the replies I make are not indicative of sobriety.

Those jerks tried to get scientific on my ass. That's not cool at 5am.

Speaking of science:

I think this is probably fact. Also, it's blueberry Greek yogurt, because I know you were wondering.

I'm dubious. I wish he'd allowed Stranger 1 to weigh in on this issue.

This question is honestly not based in my mental craziness. I promise. Watch this.

I'm pretty sure I had the wrong answer, there.

God. Now I'll never know if my balls are freezed. Fuck me!


But this ... this made up for all of it:

.