Shitshow

Hello friends and avid readers whose main purpose in life should be trying to make me famous.

THIS IS IT!

Ok just kidding.  But seriously, my good friend is making a webseries starring yours truly so I thought I would post a link to include my lovely and dedicated blog readers.

More episodes to come later this summer, but for now, here's how it all began...

SHITSHOW ORIGINS

Words With Psycho

Annnnnd I'm back.

I wish I could say I was back to write some clever thing about being some sort of awesome ninja again, but alas, 'tis not the case.

This month has been an interesting one for me.  One that has led me to the conclusion:

Hey boys, WHAT THE FUCK!?

I am going to give you a play by play, dates included and everything, of an event that transpired.

This story actually beings in elementary school.  I met a girl who I ended up being good friends with, probably until about junior high when we ended up going to different schools.

This friend has an older brother.

I haven't seen, or talked to either of them since I was probably 12 years old....and that's being pretty generous.  Let's call him Joe.

FEBRUARY 7th

• Joe finds me on Facebook
• After "liking" an alarming number of my pictures, Joe sends me the following message:

Wow you're gorgeous!

Now, my thoughts at this point were, OK, this guy hasn't seen me in a long time, and he's just commenting on the fact that he thinks I grew up to be an attractive woman.  

Based on these thoughts, I came up with the following response:

Aw thanks :) you're sweet.

In my mind, that meant, "thanks for the compliment, that was nice of you."  Apparently to him, it meant, "here is the green light to be super fucking creepy and even a little rapey maybe."

He immediately responded with: 

You're the sweetest

It was here that I knew I had fucked up by responding in the first place, and here where I literally stopped talking to him.  

...Buuuut that didn't matter, because he proceeded to continue the conversation (again, I did not actually respond to him, but my thoughts about what was going on are in purple):

We should go to lunch  (not a chance in hell)

......

:)  (what the fuck are you smiling about??)

......

You must be busy at work ;)  (mostly though I'm busy ignoring your creepy ass)

......

FEBRUARY 13TH

How have you been lately beautiful  (wtf???)

......

FEBRUARY 16TH

Hmmm (getting the hint yet?)

......

How's your family doing? (oh ok, clearly fucking not)

......

After LITERALLY zero response from me, any normal guy would have probably left me alone.

Not this guy.

Mother fucker decides to write on my Facebook WALL.

How's your family doing?

At this point, I'm thinking, "DUDE, take the hint.  I don't want to talk to you."  But, being way too nice, I responded:

Great thanks!

I again, realized my mistake when he immediately responded with:

What are your parents and brother up to?

Listen fuck stick.  I'm obviously not interested in catching up with you.  LEAVE ME ALONE.  

....Is what I was thinking and probably should have said.  But I honestly thought if I just never responded to him he would eventually go away.

That worked fine until he decided to start a game of Words With Friends with me via Facebook.

FEBRUARY 21

• Words With Friends game is started by a mystery user.
• Eventually a name shows, and I realize it's him.
• I figure, "as long as he doesn't chat with me, it's fine (I play like 15 WWF games at a time)."

Which brings us to today:

FEBRUARY 22

On my way to get coffee this morning, my phone alerted me that it was my turn to make a move on Words With Friends.

I looked at my 15 games, and I was not surprised to see an all too predictable chat alert from Joe's username.

I opened the chat, 

...and pretty much shit my pants.

Here is what it said:

...

...

...

...

"I wish I could make love to you"

...

...

...

...

...ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!?!??!

I have no idea how I didn't get into a car accident as soon as I saw that.

The fucking nerve of this guy!  Which part of the NOT welcoming ANY of your advances led you to believe it would be OK to say that to me???  AND IN WORDS WITH FRIENDS CHAT?!?!?

Honestly, even if I my own BOYFRIEND said that, I'd be like, "OK, I like you too and stuff, but that was a liiiiittle rapey, so maybe tone it down a bit."

As I type this, my mind is still reeling cause I CANNOT fucking believe this really happened.

After thinking all day about how crazy this is, here is a list of things that I have to assume he thought I might respond with in order to actually follow through with sending me that message:

• Holy shit, I was just wishing the SAME THING I'm SO GLAD you said something first!
• Where can I meet you so you can make said love to me?
• I don't know about that, but let's be great friends now!
• I'm just sitting here at home with my legs open if you want to come over?
• Turn around, I'm already here!
• Maybe if you beat me on WWF, let's keep playing!
• I would love to do sex with you!

I could go on, but you get the point.

I immediately resigned the game.

Wouldn't you know, dipshit starts a NEW game with me.

...Which I promptly declined.

TELL ME THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS MORGAN I bet is what you are thinking right about now.

Well friends and internet people, it doesn't end there.

He went BACK onto my Facebook and send me another message:

What happened to our words game???

If you're at all surprise or taken aback by this after getting this far, just know it was exponentially more shocking for me to read.

This is where I finally took action, realizing that this asshole was clearly not going to stop unless I said something.

Here's what I sent:

Based on your completely inappropriate behavior, I'm not even comfortable playing Words With Friends with you. I wish you well, but you really need to leave me alone now.

And I promptly deleted him from my Facebook.

BUT HE STILL WROTE ME BACK.

Although you, like me, are probably expecting that he said something like. "you're a bitch I hate you" or preferably, "I'm so sorry that was inappropriate and kind of rapey," he said only:

Awww :(

.....

The moral of today's story:

Guys, if a girl isn't responding to you, LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE.

The Purse Theory

***Disclaimer***:  This entry is a little different from my other posts and is not really intended to make you laugh, but it's my blog, and I do what I want!  Also, read it anyway because you love me.  Also, I like pie.


"THE ONE."


What does that even mean?!

Every girl is looking for it: that perfect man that completes and complements you as a person.  That man that you want to spend the rest of your life with, and cannot imagine living without.

This is not a search to be taken lightly, and I believe there is another search that parallels our search for love.

It is another of my theories, and let's call it, "The Purse Theory."

Girls: stop and think for a moment:  What purse/bag/clutch are you using right now?  Do you love it?  Are you looking for a better one?

Here's the thing:  I think a woman's quest for the "perfect bag" and the quest for the "perfect man" are quite similar. 

If you're anything like my friends and I, you are constantly searching for that perfect bag that completes and compliments you.  That bag that you don't have to constantly switch out to match to your outfit.  That bag you will use until it literally falls apart because you love it so much.

Some girls are looking for the perfect bag.  Some girls are looking for the perfect man.

I, am looking for both.

I got this idea a few weeks ago while shopping with a friend.

Though I have thought this to myself long before I spoke it, I told her, "I'm looking for the perfect purse," and I proceeded with a list of my specifications:  "I want it to be black, leather, medium sized, two handles, easy to get into, not too heavy, able to put over my shoulder, and have some kind of funky detail while looking classic at the same time."

I also told her, "money is not really an object (within reason, of course) if I find the perfect purse, but I've been looking for about a year now and still haven't found it."

Then we started joking about how that's similar to talking about finding "the perfect guy" and how it's a very similar plight.  At some point after that day, I really started to think about it and draw parallels:

We're all looking for the right guy.  We all find guys that are really close to what we want, some we even date in hopes that they are, but then we realize that they're not quiiiite what we were hoping for.

Take the purse I am using now, for example.  While searching for "the one," I ran into this lovely little Michael Kors number:

...I don't think it could be more different from my previous explanation of what I'm looking for:  It's silver with a snakeskin-ish print, it has one handle, it is NOT easy to get into, and it's pretty heavy.

It IS medium sized, I CAN put it over my shoulder, and it is DEFINITELY funky, so it's not completely lacking in what I was looking for.

But what does that say about my relationships??

It's actually pretty telling.  My last relationship was a shiny purse that had hints of what I wanted in a guy, but actually could not be more different from what I know I really want in a PURSEun.  (See what I did there?  I'm so clever.) (See because instead of PERSON....) (...sorry.)

SO WHY do I keep buying purses that aren't "the one"?  Why do we keep dating people that if we are honest with ourselves are NOT "the one"? 

I don't have an answer.

What I DO know, is that I am not giving up hope, in either case. 

I will keep checking the purse section at Nordstrom's.  I will keep going on dates.  Because I know they are both out there and I just have to be patient enough to find them.

P.S. How Sex and the City am I, right now??!

Basically, I Should Be A Ninja.

I love salespeople as much as the next guy.

Ok, that's a lie.

I HATE salespeople.

Which is ironic, because I actually am one...and have been one since I was 16.

IN ANY EVENT.

There is nothing I hate more than being approached by a salesperson in any and every situation.

I mean, I know they're only doing their job, but I'm like, "look bitches, if I need your help, I will come find YOU, how's that?"

They're so fucking sneaky too.

I'm usually just minding my own business, shopping for clothes....and out of nowhere I hear:

And I'm like, holy shit I just scanned this whole area and it was totally safe where the FUCK did you come from?!

Maybe there's an underground network of salespeople and they wear heat seeking night vision goggles while wearing an invisibility cloak so they can get all up in your shit and then BAM you never saw it coming, but they're asking you if you need help.

That one question sends me into an uncomfortable panic and I cannot get away from them fast enough.

In reality, I say something awkward like,

"No I'm good, just stealing all your shit thanks."

or

"I don't know bitch CAN YOU?"

or 

"I hate you and everything you stand for please leave."

But in a perfect world, in these moments I would actually transform into a badass mother fucking ninja.

So they'd be all:

And I'd be all:

And then like:

and they wouldn't even KNOW.

Because I'm a badass mother fucking ninja.

The Story Of How I Couldn't Use Chopsticks To Save My Life

The following story is based on actual events.

...well, sort of.

OK, whatever.

It was a warm summer day...

and that's the story of how I couldn't use chopsticks to save my life.

Surprise Shark!

The Problem With Playing Video Games With Someone You're Dating