The Friend Zone

Okay okay, so I want to pre-curse this with the fact that I found this article saved to my computer this morning. It is likely about 6 months old. COMPLETELY forgot writing it, but read away.

     So let start by saying, WHATtttt thEEE FUckkk is WROnggg With MEEE?!? Okay okay, that is a little dramatic, but it is sometimes how I feel. I have come to the conclusion that the reason I feel this way is because of something often called “The Friend Zone.” I am a really pretty girl, well “kinda really pretty” by certain peoples standards, but whatever the case I am not in any form of the word unattractive. I even attract guys, and for that matter I attract them quite often.

     My last handful of “relationships” have not ended well… and by ended I mean, they never really started. One of these friendships ended with a simple explanation of, “Sardine, I’m engaged, but want to go get drinks tomorrow?” Well when you put it that way of coarse I want to keep hanging out with you, and breaking some innocent girls heart. Friend zone…. Another started; I mean ended with a text message - “I’m glad you are so cool with us hanging out casually like this.” Ummm casually like what? I was under the impression that you coming over all the time, inviting me to go out, and talking to me on the phone meant something a tad bit different. Yea, that’s correct – I thought you wanted to date me. Friend zone… This third one takes the cake. Numero trace halted by the guy in question pouring his heart out to me about how thoroughly in love he was with one of my good friends. REALLYYYY?!?! We just had sex a couple hours ago, and now you are telling me you love… HER?! Friend zone.

     From this point forward I am declaring myself friend zone free. I will not be your friend with benefits, nor will I be one of the guys. I will be a flirt, tease, and seductive women of honor… or so I hope.

SNOWWWSTOORRRMMMM!!!!!

So this past Sunday weather reports started warning Chicago about a “snowpocalypse” storm that was to hit us Tuesday night. As if we weren’t depressed enough that the Bears season was over, let alone that we were constantly listening to a bunch of cheeseheads rub in their victory, Mother Nature had to throw this drama in our face. So this “epic storm” the news reported, was to have 40 MPH winds and white out across the city. That storm, it’s here. The entire day at work people were running around making excuses on how they better run home in fear. Fear of what you ask? Well, frozen water of course and a little bit of wind. Oooo I’m shivering in my Uggs. I wanted to shake everyone, and remind them that they live in the Midwest. When exactly were they planning to realize that it snows here? I mean, did they have to slam themselves head first into a snow bank in order to figure out we are north of Cancun? All I have to say is that snow isn’t all that bad, so quit all the bitching. A lot of people got to leave work early, and another handful wont even have to make their morning commute tomorrow. Sit at home, watch some Style Police, and drink your weight in hot cocoa. Most of all, realize that there are far worse things happening in the world to worry your little minds about than some measly snowstorm.


PS. While my coworkers cowered in fear, all I could think about was a citywide snowball fight, and checking into “Snowpocalypse: Chicago 2011 on FourSquare!

did your friend just throw up?

So never ever ever start your night with all you can eat and drink, sushi and saki bombs! You think I am kidding, but seriously, take my word for it. Once I started my night out like that at Sushi O Sushi in Lincoln Park.. When we got to the next bar, I proceeded to buy and take a Jim Beam shot - needless to say, it didn't end there. That shot made me throw up on the bar in front of a Saturday night crowd, and wipe it up with my shirt. Yes... my own shirt.  I mean you cant make this shit up. I legit wiped it up with my shirt and quickly proceded to the ladies room to figure out my life. I ended up throwing out my shirt out in order to save my rep. The best part, no one noticed. Seriously, no one. WHO DOESNT SEE THIS SHIT!!! I am happy no one did because an hour later my best friend got kicked out for standing on a stool... yup, once again I win the drunk game.

A new type of "nugget"..

My life long dreams of making a career out of reception were crushed today… After only 3 short weeks of the mindless duties, I have officially been promoted. That’s right, promoted - three weeks. Thanks to my hard work and ‘impeccable’ reputation, the main executive assistant in our office chose me to be her new second in command, accomplice, her right hand ma--- woman if you will. I will be leaving behind the world of phones, mail, and ordering for a hopefully more exciting life of scheduling, shopping and party planning. Ohhh wait, I am forgetting one big portion of my new position, bitch. I am in every way, shape, and form at the beck and call of my employer. Sure, that is how most boss employee relationship goes. The boss rules, and the employee drools… right? Not exactly. These are not just any employers. In fact, they are the Bill Gates’ of the options trading universe. With that said, I am up for the challenge. I plan to become the best dang personal assistant there ever was. Hey who knows, if I do well here… LA here I come!! I’m sure Chelsea Handler would love me to be her next Chewy. I would make a cute “lil’ nugget.”

I met the love of my life…

His name is Mitch, Mitch Rapp, and he is the love of my life. Okay okay, so I’ve never actually met him, but I sure feel like I have.  Rapp is the main character of novelist Vince Flynn’s award winning political thrillers. Now I want to start by enlightening you all, I am by no means a big reader. In fact there are only a handful of books that I have conquered without a teachers bearing. Luckily, while browsing a garage sale at the beginning of last summer, I came upon a box of weathered books. At the top of the pile was a white paperback with an image of a burning American flag embossed on the cover. Reading the back description drew me to the point of a teenage girl at the B-96 Bash. I was immediately wired to the passion and truth that this novel seemed to contain.

Now reading Flynn’s 4th novel out of the 11 book series, I have become quite attached to not only the stories, but also to the lead Mitch Rapp. Mitch is a brawny, intelligent, and slightly arrogant CIA operative. He heads the Orion team, a secret sect of the CIA that deals with international terrorist threats by use of “illegal” force. In the novel, as in real life, all the good catches are taken. Mitch is head over heels in love with the beautiful white house press member, Anna Rielly, who he had the pleasure of saving from a Whitehouse terrorist attack in the second novel. Aka. Even if Rapp weren’t a fictional character, I would have zero chance in hell against the super model type of Ms. Rielly.

All in all, my big question is, where can I find one of these men? Do I need to move to D.C? Maybe write up some terrorist threats on my own? I mean, I doubt the Rapps of the world frequent McFadden’s or Sidebar on their non-existent days off. Please help; I really do want a cold-hearted Mitch of my own ;)

Snuggie!

“Snuggies are much more useful if you place your legs through the arm holes!”

GUESS WHAT?!?! Last night I won a… a, a, A SNUGGIE!!! Actually it was a Snuggie Deluxe, but that makes the news twice as awesome. Every Tuesday night for the past handful of weeks a group of friends and I have attended Trivial Night at State Bar & Grill on Webster. And every Tuesday night we are disappointed by our underperformance throughout the Trivia round, and by our lack of luck in the end of night raffle. Until now! This past Tuesday my best friend did it! In her hand she held the token, the crown, the golden ticket if you will. As with the other nights we waited in suspense as the numbers were called… 2-2-5-9-6-0----5!!! Up jumped Jackie, “I won!” Unfortunately for her, aka me, all she had won was a measly $10 iTunes gift card. This card could never compare to the warmth and comfort that comes with owning a Sunggie blanket, which is one of the many other raffle giveaways. I devised a plan. We would trade up! So I grabbed the gift card, walked straight over to the winning table, and the following conversation ensued…

Me: (with a sly yet sleazy grin on my face) “Have you ever heard of the show Lets Make a Deal?”

Poor Sucker Girl: “ummm, yea.”

Me: “Well, I have a $10 iTunes gift card. What do you have?”

Poor Sucker Girl: “uhh, a Snuggie?”

Me: “Exactly!”

As I uttered the last syllable, the valuable Snuggie Deluxe was simply handed over to me as if it was a piece of trash, and I passed along the tunes card without a flinch. I smiled in triumph, for we were now the proud owners of a tremendous ocean blue Snuggie! I now have everything a girl could ever ask for…. Except a Sham wOw of course.

New jobbbb...

Now that I am steps away from graduation, I have finally decided what I want to do with the rest of my life!!!! I want to be a receptionist… wellll. Okay, you got me, I don’t want to be a receptionist forever, but it is the new gig my long time employer just placed me in, and to tell the truth it isn’t all that bad. I mean, I don’t expect young girls to start running around telling people that “when they grow up” they want to be receptionists, but I find it to be a quite satisfying position for a newly graduated 22 year old. My basic responsibilities include answering the phone, ordering snacks/supplies, as well as accepting sending and sorting mail, all of which most minimally trained monkeys hold the ability to do. Other tasks of mine consist of answering questions, greeting guests, completing daily tasks for the firm partners, all while also carrying on with my old duties of being a media intern. After this explanation it is easy to see that my new job cannot be encapsulated by the simple yet tedious description “receptionist.” Instead, much more is needed. This brought me to the idea that I need to create a new title for the many a girls that are bound to sit in my position throughout the years. Many words came to mind including “bestest helper ever,” “hottest girl in the office,” even “do you need something?” made the list. I finally came to the conclusion that my job title should be CEO, but was rudely informed that that name had already been issued. All in all the simple title of receptionist will have to stick for the time being. At least until the next flighty girl falls into my rolly chair, or until CEO opens up.