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Monday, October 18, 2010

I'm back.



Should I even apologize for not posting in nearly a month?

I’m pretty sure that Abi and Brittany and a couple of assorted people who hate me from college are the only people who actually read this thing anymore, so apologizing for not updating is kind of like apologizing to the cold, empty side of your bed for hogging all of the room. NEWS FLASH: THERE IS NO ONE THERE TO APOLOGIZE TO, LOSER.

Things have been a little crazy because:

1. I started dating. Not anyone in particular, but “dating” in more of the abstract way. It’s been fun, mainly because Abi and I can now do one of our favorite things, and that is give code names to people. The girl I exchanged legitimately 80 emails with (all of which were epically long and drawn out) was dubbed “Tolstoy.” Anyone who knows about my previous (read: basically non-existent) forays into the dating world knows of my excellent ability to attract the craziest possible girls in the history of the world. We’re talking “Hey, after dinner, why don’t we swing by the police station and get a restraining order because I’m afraid you’re going to come to my freshman dorm room and kill me with an ice pick” kind of crazy.

Do you have a criminal record, probable substance abuse problems, and are you supposed to be taking your anti-psychotic meds (BUT YOU DON’T NEED THEM SO YOU’RE NOT TAKING THEM RIGHT NOW DOCTORS DON'T KNOW ANYTHINGGGGGGGGG)? Hop aboard the Amanda train, next stop: Crazytown.

Each one of these craz-os has been justified by me with the same stupid excuse, “She has a nice smile.”

As if having a nice smile somehow negates the fact that she called and left 32 crazy voicemails in one night after the SECOND DATE. Yeah, she has a nice smile. So did Karla Homolka (too soon?)

Moral of the story: it’s especially fun as a 24-year-old to pretend that I know WTF I’m doing, especially since I shun everything that has to do with the gay culture (truth: Carl Paladino has probably been into more gay bars than I have). My favorite question from all of my straight friends and, embarrassingly enough, MY OWN FATHER: “So, when you go on a date, who pays?” The fuck if I know.

Situation 1: I paid, mainly because SHE WAS WEARING A DRESS AND I AM INTIMIDATED BY THE IDEA OF GENDER ROLES.

Situation 2: She paid, because she played basketball in college (hi, gender roles, there you are again!) and she was wearing plaid bermuda shorts (no, I did not go out on a date with myself, dbags).

Anyway, it’s all been particularly hi-larious to see myself in these kinds of situations because I’ve discovered I think it's a good idea to leave my pearl earrings in while hooking up (SEXY!!!) and that I am also the wonderful combination of arrogant and gun-shy (read: full of shit). Is this endearing or annoying? I think we all know the answer. Regardless, it’s been fun (and embarrassing) trying to trick someone into wanting to spend time with me on a consistent basis.

2. My family came to visit: OMG how have I been able to live over two years in New York City without being murdered? How do I even make it through the day without the annoying, dominating, grating advice of my parents ringing in my ears constantly? Amanda, make sure you lock this window. Amanda, you should really use the laundry detergent with the color-blocking technology; your sweaters will last twice as long! WHO CARES, WHO CARES, WHO CARES?! I know they just love me and I forced myself to remember that about 700 times over the course of one VERY long weekend. My mother told my freezer looks like a “poor person’s freezer” because all I had in there was a box of baking soda, ice cubes, and a bottle of vodka. Come on, Mom, poor people can’t afford Absolut.

3. I went to Florida: The theme of the trip that took me, Scott, Gabe, and Tim to Pompano Beach was “Went on vacation, came back on probation,” and although we did our fair share of drinking our faces off, I was very proud that I didn’t puke (can’t say the same for Gabe or Tim) or, you know, die. The real question is, how did I manage to spend $700 in the course of four days? Who am I, Diddy? I suck. I need a sugar mama. Is Jackie Warner available? She just needs to cut her hair then she’ll be attractive to me again.