Malingering’s World

Oh look I’ve been ripped off again. What can you do, except whine about it on your public blog and hope people send you pity and love?

I don’t even want pity, but love would be nice.

I’m laughing and holding an illegal sign. I’m a rebel!

Mostly I want to use this opportunity to answer some of the moronic comments found over on LAist.

1) Yes, I have been to a Dodger game before. I have been to over 100 games over the past 3 seasons, including the playoffs. Fuck off.

2) Yes, I do know how to buy tickets. I will explain again that I have season seats for 25 games, and the rest of the games I buy sort of “a la carte.” Because there was a giveaway night, those were the best available seats within my price range. Because I go to 40+ games a year, I can’t blow $50 on seats every time.

3) No, Dodger Stadium is not like this every night. While I cannot account for every home game, I attended half of their home games last season and this was by far one of the worst experiences I have ever had.

4) No, I do not have a problem with beer, cheering, Vin Scully, Dodger Dogs, the wave, or children. I have a problem with morons, inconsiderate assholes, dickwads and fucktards, all of whom were present at the game I mentioned and all of whom were grossly interfering with my ability to watch the game and enjoy myself.

Okay. I’ll quit it with the dead horse stuff and move on.

This is the second time I’ve seen one of my photos used without credit or permission in a Facebook ad. It’s starting to piss me off. Plus it’s always for these lame ass diet scams which I completely disagree with, and that upsets me even more.

I’ve been on a March Madness bar tour, so for today’s game I headed down to a rather cool bar with lots of nice flat screen TVs. While I was there, I met a very handsome man who was seemingly kind and nice and who acted very interested in me. He made me laugh rather hard and had some good jokes, so after a few hours and several beers, we were kissing on the patio (which I admit was rather nice). Next thing I know, he starts getting text messages that say things like “I hate it when you do this to me” and “I haven’t heard from you in hours, what’s going on” and “I don’t like feeling this way ” Um. Great. Now I wasn’t looking for a soulmate here, but I was feeling bad for the woman on the other end of the phone as she sounded very distressed (and I’ve been in her position many a time), so I start pressing the guy about who the hell is that? After much avoidance he says it’s his long distance girlfriend, but it’s okay because she’s not even in the same state. Apparently this is a rule that men know about but women do not, as I just got out of a long distance relationship where the man I was with also seemed to abide by a similar rule (though we were in the same state so the boundaries may have been redefined in this case, maybe there’s some sort of 250 mile rule or something). At this point I’m feeling disgusted and decide I’m going to sip my beer, watch the end of the Laker game, and go home.

But of course, it gets better. I’m sitting in a booth, broken foot propped up on a chair, and he goes to the bathroom (probably to go make out with some other random chick) and this very pretty girl comes and sits next to me. I have no idea what’s going on, but next thing I know, she introduces herself as his EX-GIRLFRIEND. Then she proceeds to say “no, he’s a good guy, I’m not a bitch, seriously I’m not.” What am I supposed to say to this besides “that’s nice and I don’t give a fuck?” Then she tells me that she used to be a model and she thinks I should be a fitness model because I have a nice physique. Huh? Her friends see what she’s doing and tell her to leave me alone so she gets up, and this other girl in excessive makeup and false eyelashes and a lip piercing comes and sits next to me and tells me that she knows the guy I’m “with” and that he’s married and has a child at home and he comes to bars to have one night stands with women and cheat on his wife and I should stay away because he’s disgusting. Now while she’s sitting next to me, the “ex girlfriend” goes over to the guy I’m “with” who is about 10 feet away and STICKS HER HANDS DOWN HIS PANTS and starts kissing his neck. At this point I decide that while I could stay a few minutes longer as it was likely that something even stranger could occur, it was probably in my best interest to get out of there before some sort of ex-girlfriend fight broke out or some shit, so I left.

Seriously, people are so fucked up. I’m just having a drink watching Davidson play Memphis and next thing you know I’m in the middle of a goddamn Young and the Restless episode. Remind me just to watch the rest of the tourney from my couch. Blech.

These assfuckers stole the above photo and used it for an ad that has been popping up on Facebook about every 3.2 seconds. Special thanks to the 4 Flickr users who brought it to my attention. They didn’t credit me and now they’re using it for a weight loss ad for some bogus fake asian fat burning bullshit. Fuck them. How do I sue?

First off, this t-shirt is not even funny, unless you’re of borderline intellectual functioning and laugh every time someone farts. Second, who the hell wears it when they’re going out with someone represented by the exiled figure on the shirt? And lastly, what kind of moron DATES that person and walks around holding his hand?

The only way this would be funny is if he’s married to someone else, having an affair, and the girlfriend made him wear that shirt to encourage him to get divorced. Then I would laugh.

Then there’s this guy. I’m pretty sure his woman is pregnant. So he should probably stay away from whores AND alcohol for a while…

You really fucking irritate me. I’m driving along the 405, taking my friend to the airport after a very nice weekend, and as I’m driving along I decide to change lanes. Check mirrors. Clear. Check blind spot. Clear. Signal. Check blind spot again. Clear. Then you decided to waste 4 gallons of gas to accelerate your brick of a vehicle to try to block me from changing lanes.

At this point, I’d already started moving over and you’re still a ways back. But you keep accelerating until you’re riding my poor little injured car’s ass and then hold down your horn and flip me off for a good quarter mile. Now was that necessary? It seems to me you brought this upon yourself and should be blaming your own pathetic and fragile ego for creating the need for you to try to prevent me from driving in front of you.

Then you proceed to tailgate me, flip me off repeatedly, and try to cut me off several times. Given that I was birthday celebrating for 18 straight hours the night before and I’m feeling sort of tired, we decide to get into the carpool lane so you can’t ram your gas guzzling dick-replacement vehicle into my car. So then instead of pulling ahead and going to your very very important place that you clearly had to get to five minutes ago, you drive right next to us and flip us off, paying no attention to the road.

At this point my trusty wingwoman pulls out her camera and documents your jackass behavior. Well this sends you into a dizzy. So you illegally pulls into the carpool lane behind us, crossing over the double lines and then proceed to drive illegally (alone) behind us in the carpool lane, trying to find your camera to get revenge. At this point you’re breaking about 3 or 4 laws as well as tailgating, and you were close enough to my car that we could see how horribly hideous you are which made us feel sort of bad for you. But not bad enough.

So I am posting this warning, if anyone comes across your car, bad driving, attitude or severe penis overcompensation, they should not change lanes, accelerate, signal, or even gaze to the side as it may threaten your virility and irritate you enough to the point that you have a subarachnoid hemorrhage on the 405. I’m doing this for your own safety.

Okay, I admit to being a bitchy drunk, and I have a history of being belligerent, confrontational, and stupid when I’ve been drinking in bars. Now I rarely drink, and last night was my birthday and it’s the first time I’d been really drunk in about a year…

With that being said, let me tell you a story.

This guy comes up to me at the bar and starts telling me how he is a personal trainer and can hook me up with some good training. Well I had just had quite a day at the gym, including doing 30 consecutive pull-ups for my 30th birthday so of course I pulled up my sleeve, flexed the guns and said “oh I’ve got a gym already.” He just sort of looked.

Then I pointed to my friend and said “she worked out with me this morning, I think she did about 500 squats today.” He said, “that’s impossible.”

Okay, don’t challenge a drunk girl flexing her biceps on her 30th birthday because you have no clue what she’s capable of. So then I said “we can do 100 squats in 2 minutes, no problem. Want to see?” He said yes, of course.

Well I didn’t force my friend to join me, so I started doing bodyweight speed squats right there. This guy is such a moron (and has such low standards for dancing partner), that he stands behind me and starts freaking me. I stopped immediately and asked him what the fuck he was doing and told him that since he could not behave, we would have a push-up contest instead.

Before I could get to the ground, he asked me if I could do one legged-squats (my gym calls them pistols). Of course I can, impotent man. So then I start doing them, one leg extended in front of me, in fishnet tights and heels. He seems unimpressed, which I can’t handle.

So I flop down and start doing push-ups in the bar, with my newly manicured toes trapped in fishnets barren on the dirty bar floor and my hands all sticky from the sugar coated rim of my 4th lemon drop martini glass. I did about 10 when I realized he was not participating in the challenge. I get a little pissed and I stand up and I start bitching that he isn’t doing his share. He told me I should just be quiet and dance with him. Some of the other guys around were pointing out that he was being a lame, limp dickweed and shouldn’t let a girl talk shit like that. Then my sister told him he should just turn around and walk away because he has NO chance with us.

Later I see him at the bar, talking to a group of women. I hear him say, “I can get you toned without building a lot of muscle!” and “I’m a manager at twenty…. five hour fitness.”

Um, twenty-FIVE hour fitness? I started calling him twenty-five millimeter penis.

He tried to dance with us about 4 more times, and got turned down every time. After we left the bar, we were standing outside getting a cab and he drives by in his over-compensated SUV with tinted windows and shouts “why don’t you lift some weights, BITCH?”

Well, that’s a good attitude. I’m sure you’ll get laid tomorrow if you just keep it up. Maybe you should try meeting people at Curves.

yesterday’s workout:
30 consecutive pull-ups (my birthday goal)
five 2 minute sessions of squats/push-ups/burpees
10 push-ups on the floor of the bar
6 one-legged squats in heels and fishnets
repeated one armed curls of martini glass to mouth

This image wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the woman attached to this ass. She talked so loud that everyone in the restaurant was staring at her (except for the man she was with). We were 4 tables away and could hear everything out of her mouth. And everything into her mouth. She complained about the quality of the poached egg atop her eggs benedict and then proceeded to shove the entire thing into her mouth. In one bite. Our mouths dropped open. Then she yelled at the waitress again. Then when she wanted whatever was left over (nothing more than a piece of toast), to the utter shock of the kitchen staff she invited herself back into the kitchen and took a sheet of foil out to wrap up the toast. Incredible.

Go ahead and click on this photo so that you may experience the idiocy. I will say no more.