I'm Single Now, Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, New Beginnings, People From My Past, Story Time, Who Is Alanna?

Catch Colds, Not Feels

(Or be like me and catch both. Your call really.)

I’ve been sick for a little over 2 weeks and it doesn’t seem to be going away. Speaking of things that aren’t going away, I’ve run into a slight predicament in the realm of romance. (And not VD you pervs… geez.) Rather that something that was never supposed to be anything other than friends hanging out has recently become slightly more than that, at least on my end.

EDITOR’S NOTE: If the person I’m talking about (and you know who you are) is currently reading this right now (although that’s doubtful, and I’m not sure if you do actually read this), please click away. I promise I won’t say anything bad or personal but I also don’t want you to be aware of the aforementioned feels I currently possess. Also, you don’t need to know the extent of my crazy (even though you probably already think you do) and I don’t want any of my nonsense and most-likely-fleeting feelings to affect our friendship. Thank you for respecting my privacy, now please go away. :)

Alright, now that we’re alone I can get back to the business of explaining my current problem. I truly believe that old age is turning me soft because I rarely get sick and I rarely have genuine human feelings of this nature.

archer-blood-test-turning-into-people-memearcher-blood-test-but-i-dont-wanna-be-people-meme

So basically I have a friend who I’ve known for almost a decade and now that I’m back home we’ve been hanging out. It’s been really chill and fun (as hanging with your friends often is), and up until recently it’s been totally casual. (Side Note: I never know how to spell the truncated version of “casual”. Is it “cash” or “caszhe” or “caz”?? Someone please let me know in the comments.) Then a couple weeks ago, we were sitting at the bar completely “caszche” and I suddenly got an overwhelming urge to kiss him.

…Uhhh, what now?

First of all, WHAT THE HELL, ALANNA?!?! Second of all, Like come on girl, it’s HIM. Your FRIEND. The guy you once saw get so angry about losing in Pokemon Brawl that he got up and left your other friend’s house. Plus, I’m not looking for a boyfriend or anything even resembling a serious relationship. I just broke up with my boyfriend of four years and not only would that be disrespectful to him but also to the new guy. Not to mention it would be irresponsible for my own sanity and general well-being.

But the thing about feels is that they don’t care about logic or rationality. Your amygdala is just like, “Soo… I’m gonna take a nap. Sorry about your lack of good judgement, peace out fam.” Then your hypothalamus, along with its little buddy the nucleus accumbens, is all like, “Alright alright alright,” (a la Matthew McConaughey) and before you know it you’re attached to your phone in case he texts you and wondering what he looks like naked.

(Also, please don’t bust my balls if that’s not entirely correct. I’m not a neurologist and it’s been a while since I took that class.)

So all of this basically is fine, just me freaking out about having feels to begin with. Especially for someone I’ve been friends with for so long and want to remain friends if things go back to normal. The weird thing is that even though we’ve been friends for a billion years, I realized that I actually know very little about him. I mean, I know things like what sports teams he’s into and his opinions on the election and why his brand of beer is superior to mine. I know that he constantly travels on the basketball court like we don’t live in a society with rules and I know what memes will make him laugh.

But the other day, we were just talking (like humans do, ya know?) and he starts talking about his family and their quirks and stories about his parents and nephews and all that. Suddenly, I notice that I know NOTHING about his family or even his life outside of the superficiality of drunken conversations and trash-talk while playing video games. I thought back for a second and realized in the almost ten years of knowing him, he’s never once mentioned anything about his family and now he’s sitting here talking about growing up with his siblings and how their relationship has changed over the years.

“Hey, nice to finally meet you, my name’s Alanna. What’s yours again? Oh, that’s right, your name isn’t even your real name, it’s your middle name but I didn’t even know that until like 7 years down the line. Nbd, fam.”

I feel like I’m in one of those movies where after years and years the people find out their friend/spouse/family member is actually a spy or a member of the royal family (except on a waayy less significant level). Normally, I’d question my own listening skills and scold myself for being too self-involved, but this time I wasn’t just being a self-centered bitch. I talked to my one friend the other night about this whole thing and she was basically like, “Wait.. he has a family?” and I was like, “I KNOW RIGHT?!” so there ya go.

She also joked about how her and some of the guys were assessing this situation and how the guys were like, “Yeah they’re ‘chilling’ but they’re not ‘chilling’. I give it like 2 weeks at the most,” and my friend was all, “Yeah, yeah, whatever… I think this is actually happening.” (I’m directly involved and I still question whether or not I’m in a coma or perhaps have slipped into another dimension where nothing makes any sense.) My friend made a very legit observation that none of us have ever seen the guy bring any girls around.

Literally. None.

That tripped me out pretty heavily because he obviously dated and did other human things but none of us actually witnessed it. And we’ve all brought around our various dudes and hos, even if it was just some bullshit thing. Not him though. I remember seeing one girl drive up while we were playing football like 6 years ago but she didn’t even get onto the front yard. He just walked all the way over to the road and talked to her while she stood next to her car, and from 100 feet away we were all creeping like, “Ooohh shiittt, waddupp,” (and damn, even from that distance it was obvious she was hot af) but when he came back up to the field he didn’t say a single word about her, the conversation, or the situation at all. He just left us in the lurch leaving us to make up our own conclusions as well as some pretty funny jokes.

The moral of this story is that I like a guy who may or may not be the Batman.

so-thats-what-that-feels-like-batman-gif

I’m not even worried about analysis or labels or anything, it’s all in good fun and my life is going pretty great in general at the moment so in a totally uncharacteristically-“me”-type-way, I’m just enjoying having fun and chilling with a friend. (But not “chilling”, of course.)

If you read through this entire post, congratulations. You get a prize. (The satisfaction of reading 1200 words of nonsense.) I hope you’re all having a wonderful December. Merry Fuckery and Happy Lols to you all. <3 <3 <3 <3

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It’s My 2-Year Blogiversary

(Not much has changed. I might actually be less funny and relevant now. But I’m older, so ya know… silver linings.)

Two years ago today (well, technically it was August 2nd but let’s not bust balls), I wrong my first blog post for this dumb little site all because my dad said that I wouldn’t follow through with it. So much beauty sprung from spite.

It’s like a poem.

My first post was pretty bad. I rambled on for multiple paragraphs about lion terrorists and how I peed myself in my car and looking back, I have to wonder what the hell was I thinking? That girl sounded like she was on drugs and honestly she probably was.

Snapshot_20120512_8

Throwback to when I first started writing here. Sure, the crazy is poignant, but I was so thin… Is health and sanity really worth it?

 

I’ve been reading through my old posts and there are some creepy coincidences happening with events from this time in 2014 mirroring events now. For instance, just a couple days ago I stepped on ANOTHER nail and it went through the SAME FLIP FLOPS!!!! And the ex boyfriend who got his girlfriend pregnant literally 2 years ago is back with that girl and she’s pregnant AGAIN!!! (Not with his baby, but that’s none of my business…) Then there’s the whole Ice Bucket Challenge thing which nobody talked about since summer of 2014 and suddenly it’s back in the news again because it worked. I wrote a post concerning my advice and general thoughts on college 2 years ago and wrote another advice article for college kids called “A Letter To My Freshman Self” just this past week!!!

Chris Pratt Guardians of the Galaxy WHAT gif

Mind = blown.

Anyways, as I’ve looked over the vast empire of bullshit I’ve built these past two years, I’ve noticed that you all seem to really like reading about the stupid stuff I get into when I get drunk and sad, so you’re all basically reveling in my sorrows and addictions. Shame. On. You. I wag my finger in your general direction. You also have a deep interest in drinking games you can play by yourself which tells me two things: 1) I need to write another post with new and improved solo-drinking games, and 2) A lot of you must be drinking alone or at least enough that it might be a problem so I understand the need to commiserate.

Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 1Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 2Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 3Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 4Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 5Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 6Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 7Always Sunny in Philadelphia alcoholics gif 8

Exactly.

Another thing I used to do a lot is list a few choice search terms that led people to my blog, and no matter how long I write on the internet, I’ll never get used to the crazy, funny, and mostly disgusting phrases typed into search engines. (I clearly use the word “bitch” waayyy too much so the blame is partly on me.) Now without further ado, here’s some search terms that somehow brought you here in 2016 so far:

1. solo drinking games; drinking games to play alone; drinking games to play by yourself; one person drinking games  (You see what I mean?)

2. do i go banging on peoples doors asking for them to suck my penis america?
(Fabulous)

3. your pussy aint worth the fames you playing  (I don’t understand what it’s saying, but somehow my feelings still hurt.)

4. teens kitten twitter  (I realize this seems harmless, but I don’t trust it.)

5. fuck yall all i need is jesus

6. officially bullshit  (Refer to my “Bullshit” post.)

7. i just love my all fucking haters

8. twitter typical white girl funny scary video of phone ringing in bed (…What??)

9. what does the expression mean when they say i’m not always a bitch just kidding go fuck yourself  (This should be self-explanatory, I’m disappointed in whoever wrote this.)

10. dee you bitch  (Lol, an “Always Sunny” reference never fails to warm my heart.)

11. guess who’s not going back to high school  (Frenchie? But seriously, take that guy’s advice: “Turn in your teasing comb and go back to high school.”)

12. bitch am not into you  (…Whatever, I’m not into you either. Mean.)

So there you go. Two years of bullshit and not much has changed. Keep an eye out for my next drinking game post because I might do another giveaway with money and giftcards and perhaps a featured blogger contest.

Thanks again for being a part of the nonsense with me all this time. Come for the pumpkin spice, stay for the unadulterated crazy.

Jenna Marbles Thank You Tasty Muffin Snake gif

 Later taters! ;)

 

 

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Nightmare On North Pine Street

(Or maybe it’s “Inception”.  Either way, somebody is screwing up my dreams and I don’t know what to do about it.)

So Alessandro and I have officially decided that we’re gonna get engaged once he gets a proper engineering job and saves up enough money for a ring (please hold your excitement and congratulations for the post where we actually get engaged and I have a giant-ass diamond on my finger).  What’s bothering me though is that someone I haven’t seen or thought about in YEARS keeps showing up in my dreams like Freddy-stupid-Krueger.  Like I don’t know this person anymore, I have no idea what they’re doing with their life, I don’t even know what they look like now.

(In fact, he could actually look like Freddy Krueger.  Maybe he was in some type of fire incident that involved him killing little kids and the townspeople taking their revenge?  Or he could look perfect and handsome, exactly as I remember him but now grown up so perhaps better.  The point is I have no idea and shouldn’t even care because I am happy with the person I’m about to spend my life with SO WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME???????)

The story of this person infecting my life begins with myself at the tender age of 12, attending my first track practice of the year in early March. I actually took a year off from my little private school to see what public school was like and was only on my old school’s track team because the public school didn’t have a track team for 6th graders. I had also finally gotten out of my awkward stage, grown 5 inches, and (if I do say so myself) achieved quite the little body in six-grader standards. Plus, my bangs had finally grown out from the year before which taught me a great life lesson about never ever getting bangs ever again.

The first day of practice was freezing cold and even my heavy sweatshirt and thick sweatpants couldn’t keep out the piercing wind. I met one of my friends on the hill overlooking the track to chatter about nonsense and current 6th grade gossip when I made the unfortunate mistake of looking down onto the football field. 200 yards away (maybe, I have no ability to judge distance) I locked eyes with the single most perfect human being I had ever seen (he even put 2005-era Chad Michael Murray and Ashton Kutcher to shame). While my friend rambled on about whatever it was (I wasn’t listening), me and this demigod continued look deeply (and from far away) into each other’s eyes and I couldn’t feel the bitter cold anymore. I interrupted my friend asking, “Who is THAT?!?!” She looked down at the young man also standing with a friend and said, “That guy? Oh that’s [yeah-right-I’m-not-saying-his-name-I-know-who-reads-this-now-and-you’re-probably-all-laughing-at-me-cause-you-know-exactly-who-it-is]. He’s friends with my brother.” My very first words regarding this person was my reply: “I’m going to have his babies.”

(Sixth-grade-Alanna was quite the little minx and very brazen. She also had recently learned what sex was due to her newly-found public school education and something called “health class”, otherwise unheard of in Catholic school.)

My friend got all excited because this type of news was her oxygen and she continued to support me through the years of ups and downs from my perilous unrequited love.

Flash forward to 9th grade (since then, I’m still crushing hard and have reentered Catholic school), the first day of high school, first period Latin class: I’m wearing my “cool” new uniform and am feeling all grown up, ready to take on the world and let the real learning begin because nothing could distract me from my pursuit of higher education. I was pretty nervous so I wasn’t actually looking at anybody as the rest of the class filed in. When it came time for our teacher to assign seats, she said, “Okay, [I’m-still-not-saying-his-name]? Switch seats with Alanna, that’ll be your desk.” I didn’t think anything of the name since it’s pretty common and got up to let this person take my seat. The kid behind me gets up and our bodies touch as he passes by me in the narrow aisle and I almost faint because the boy I’ve been obsessed with for 2 years was totally within kissing distance not 5 seconds ago. My brain stopped working for what seemed like a short time but was apparently a while, and I wasn’t roused from my standing-coma until the second, “Alanna? Your seat is behind [this-is-getting-embarrassing-but-as-you-all-know-I’m-too-candid-for-my-own-good]. Isn’t that funny? You two were sitting in each other’s assigned seats totally by coincidence!” He turned around and smiled at me (fully aware of the crush I’d been harboring for him all this time) and for the rest of class, I didn’t hear a word anyone said except his, all of which made me blush to the point where my face was the same color as my hair.

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This is our only picture together.  What a cute couple lolamirite?

I continued to be in love with him until November of my 11th grade year when I made the conscious decision to fall out of love with him. I changed up all the ways I walked in the halls so as not to see him between classes, I stopped going to lunch and study hall (he was in all of mine because the universe has a sick sense of humor), and I avoided all school events he was likely to attend as well as stopping going to church because our families always went to the same mass. Eventually, I stopped thinking about him and met my very first boyfriend. That year, my crush graduated and other than a couple times watching Penn State football games and a few Christmas masses, I haven’t seen him again.

Until about a month ago, that is. And not in real life either. Just whenever I go to sleep.

I’ve actually tried staying up days at a time, but when I finally fall asleep, the dreams are longer and more vivid than ever. I have no idea what’s happening but it needs to stop. It’s actually come to the point where I wake up and am surprised by Alessandro being next to me instead of him. Maybe I should re-watch the “Nightmare on Elm Street” movies and see how those kids handled it. (Although I’m pretty sure they all either killed themselves or got locked up in insane asylums. If I stop blogging, you guys know where I am.)

Alanna and Freddy Kreuger Nightmare of Elm Street

So why is this happening?  Can somebody dig up Freud to help me?  At this point, I’d kill for a night of tossing and turning over ghosts or killers.  High school is truly to be feared…

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I Like Pina Coladas And Pretending To Be Sane

(Jimmy Buffett & Rupert Holmes knew what they were talking about.  I just figured out how to make mixed drinks with my NutriBullet so I think it’s safe to say I’m getting my life together.)

Hello, my darlings.  It’s been a long time.  I’ve longed to feel your sweet caress against my parietal lobe.  Or whatever part of your brain can see blog notifications.  Once again, the world has taken me hostage with homework (avoiding it), bleakness on the news, and the fact that I JUST discovered “vlogging”.

It’s blogging, but with videos.  (Otherwise known as crack.)

Ghost Hunting Shane Dawson Psychic Twins Youtube Vlog

Shane Dawson is currently my favorite, as well as anything with ghosts.

Supposedly, vlogging has been around for over a decade but as far as I’m concerned, it’s the new hip thang yo.  Sure, I used Youtube for listening to music, but I had absolutely no idea there was so much awesome stuff out there.

Ghost hunters, conspiracy theory videos (my long lost love), and people reacting to things… it’s like I was in an internet-coma and finally woke up.  It’s actually making me consider making my own “vlog” but I’m not totally sure how to do that and I don’t know if anybody would bother watching because my life is terribly boring.

I could vlog about the ghosts in my attic?  Although they’re not too talkative these days.  My hope is that they’ve moved on to heaven or whatever but it’s more likely they’ve decided to haunt more interesting/less-talkative type people.

(Perhaps my Burmese nextdoor neighbors?  A nice spooking with the added benefit of being introduced to a different and fascinating culture.  Good for you, ghosts.  Eat, Pray, Love and all that.)

real ghost gif sheet lol

The other reason I’ve been absent is because school.  It’s trying to kill me but I remain strong.  Plus I’ve been getting involved with people and things which is completely out of character for me.

For example, one night I had rum and pina colada mix and my Nutribullet was like, “Hey there pretty lady, ya know you can add those ingredients to me with ice and have a party,” and I was like, “OMG WHY HAVEN’T I THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE?!?!?!”  And my Nutribullet said, “Because you’re not the sharpest blade in the blender,” and I was like, “Good one, Nutribullet.”  So I took the advice of a household appliance and got pretty tipsy on some delicious iced cocktails.

Then I was all pissed cause Alessandro was watching Fox News and the world is getting on my nerves with political nonsense so I thought to myself (out loud), “Why don’t I write a letter to people and tell them to shut up because they’re being annoying?” and Alessandro was like, “You should do that,” but I wasn’t talking to him so I said, “I wasn’t talking to you,” and set to work on writing a rum-and-stupidity-fueled piece to Thought Catalog (which I had no idea that they’d publish because I mean come on, but they did).

Alanna Open Letter To Millennials Thought Catalog

Anyways, I made the mistake of assuming nobody in my real life pays attention to me or what I do on social media so I posted the link on my actual Facebook page.  Somehow, people saw it and then started seeing links to my blog and my instagram and twitter for my blog, and now everyone(ish) I’ve ever known since high school found me and is following my stuff.

“Why is that bad?” you might ask.  Well, if you’ve been following me or know my writing even a little bit, you know my candor vis-a-vis the people I know in real life and how I say terrible things about them as well as revealing many secrets about myself.  So whether it’s libel or slander or just being a dick (because what I say is true so technically it’s not libellous), I’m gonna piss a lot of people off.

Have you guys ever posted something you’ve later come to regret?  Or have stories of family and friends kill you for what you write?

Tell me about it in the comments.  Or come to my house and chat because that’s how easy it is to find me now.

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Sex And Nonsense: Gina And I Discuss The Issues

(DISCLAIMER: this is not safe for work, or “NSFW” if you prefer. We talk about sex and stuff, so you probably shouldn’t be reading this at all. Perverts. JK, kiddos. Enjoy…)

Okay, so me and Gina from Endearingly Wacko have come together in comedic awesomeness to give you all what you want: sex.

(Not sex WITH us, though. Just about us. In case you were confused.)

We basically decided to join forces in the battle against non-laughingness in a series I like to call “Alanna And Gina On The Issues”. Like Batman and Robin. But for comedy blogs.

The Comedic Duo.

The Comedic Duo.

These are a few questions we came up with (mostly her) that we’re answering here. The answers to the other questions are on Gina’s blog so you’ll have to go there to find out the rest.

Questions:
1. Name one of the funniest or weirdest places you’ve ever had sex.
2. How did you learn about sex and how old were you?
3. Did you ever accidentally see your parents having sex?
4. Describe something embarrassing that you’ve done.

(They’re going to be out of order so just deal with that.)

2. How did you learn about sex and how old were you?

Gina: I was five years old. I learned about the facts of life from my next door neighbor, Penny, who was also five years old. Penny’s mother seemed to have a lot of drama in her life and because we lived in a townhouse with paper-thin walls, my Mom was able to find out all the scoop on this lady by putting a glass up to the wall and listening. As an aside, there was a hilarious moment when my sister was a toddler and the neighbor lady was standing inside the front hallway talking to my Mom. According to my Mom, she saw my little sister get a plastic cup and hold it up to her ear against the wall, mimicking the behavior she had seen. My Mom said she was cringing inside in case the neighbor lady was able to figure out that she was being spied upon. Anyway, Penny was not supervised very well. She liked to dive in the dumpster and rummage around for God knows what. Treasure of some kind I suppose. I may have just been a little kid, but even I was like, “There’s no way I’m getting into a giant container filled with trash”.

*NOT ACTUAL DUMPSTER FROM STORY* (But close.)

*NOT ACTUAL DUMPSTER FROM STORY* (But close.)

So one time Penny was dumpster diving and I was standing next to the dumpster and she told me, “My Mom and her boyfriend are having sex.” I was like, “What’s that?”. And then she very graphically explained how part A was inserted into slot B. It rocked my little world. I mean, it was just so bizarre. Maybe everyone feels the same way the first time you hear about the actual mechanics involved. It’s funny to me that something that should be natural and beautiful was introduced to me next to a dumpster, with it’s stench and flies. Although maybe that’s a more telling metaphor for sex, now that I think about it.

Alanna: I can’t remember when I learned about sex because my parents were too cool to give me “the talk” and my Catholic school didn’t have health class. I just sort of always knew it existed (especially when I saw “Wild Things” at 5 years old). But one time when I was like 12, I was asking my friend about the lyrics of “What’s Your Fantasy?” by Ludacris and my friend mentioned penetration. I turned around and was like, “¿Que?”

She was all, “Wait a second… what do you think sex is?”

Obviously, it’s like when you rub your Barbie and Ken together at their smooth parts.” She laughed for about ten million years and then described to me the actual process of “getting jiggy with it” (na na na na na naa). I was extremely confused and we had to discuss it for quite a while because I absolutely could not wrap my mind around the concept. (In fact, I’m still a little fuzzy on the details.)

3. Did you ever accidentally see your parents having sex?

Gina: Yes. It happened when I was a college student which made it SO much more worse than if it had happened when I was a child. At least if I had been a kid I probably wouldn’t have known what was going on. I was home for three weeks in August 1992. I had a small break from studying in Russia over the summer; I was returning there at the end of August to start the Fall Semester. Those three weeks were just long enough for me to get into a catastrophic car accident that nearly took my life, but I digress. I was up late packing my suitcase for my flight to Moscow the next day. My sister had already left for her first year of college in another city. My parents had gone to bed for the night and I suddenly remembered something that I needed that was in their room. I don’t remember what it was. Their door was closed but not locked so I thought I would quietly sneak in, get what I needed and leave. The light was off in their room but even in the darkness I could tell what was going on once I stepped into the room. My folks were “doing it”. I was horrified and quickly left. I’m surprised I didn’t trip over my own feet in my rush to get out. The next day no one mentioned the awkward incident. But I really wanted to say something like, “Seriously guys? One more day and I would have been gone and you would have been empty nesters. You would have had the whole house to yourself. Couldn’t you have waited one more day? If nothing else, why didn’t you lock the door?” But they didn’t and now I have an uncomfortable image burned into my brain. I guess I shouldn’t pass judgement since at some time (God forbid) we might get caught in the act by our son. He hasn’t done so yet but he did find a used condom wrapper once and he was like, “Who’s been eating candy in here?” We have a strict “no food upstairs” rule. I think I had to lie and blame myself just to keep him from asking more questions. Parenthood is fun.

Alanna: When I was about 3 years old, I walked into my parents’ bedroom in the middle of the day and saw them having sex even though I had no clue that was what was going on. They were all naked and my mom was just sitting on top (ugh) and they just looked at me for a few seconds in silence and started cracking up laughing. I was like, “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!?!” all pissed about not being “in” on the joke and then I just left the room.
We never talked about it after that.

To read the answers to the other two questions, click here: http://endearinglywacko.com/the-not-safe-for-work-blog-post

Thanks for reading! And if you want, feel free to provide your own answers in the comments. I always like to hear a good tale of unfortunate sex.

BYE EVERYBODY!! :)

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Funny Blog Friday II: The Naked Quarter-Mile

(“In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups. The police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories…”)

Hello everyone! Welcome back to Funny Blog Friday! I totally forgot to write this post yesterday due to excessive napping and forgetfulness, so I’m kind of slapping together something quick before time runs out. Please visit all the FBF bloggers because they’re awesome and some of them are giving away more prizes (plus, you all know you need a laugh).

This story, dear friends, stays in the realm of themes of my recent posts: exes, alcohol, trouble of all kinds, Alanna (the heroine of our tale) rising above moral depravity and, as usual, taking the high road. Before I tell the harrowing story of how I got my very first underage drinking, I’d like to point out that everything I say may or may not be factual, so if you’re a cop, keep walking. There’s nothing to read here.

Our Tale Begins On The Eve Of Labor Day Weekend, 2012…

‘Twas Friday, August 31st. A warm day, though not too hot for jeans. I had just moved into my college dorm only a week prior. My school was stupid and put me in the freshman dorms even though I was a sophomore, so I shared a room with a nice young girl who was really religious and had Jesus stuff all over. That weekend, she was going home to visit her family so I thought it would be a good idea to invite my then-boyfriend over to stay for the holiday. How very wrong I was…

Zach and I had the entire weekend planned: we’d chill Friday night around campus, go to the local farmer’s market on Saturday (which my father actually had a surprise for us instead), and basically just lie around watching tv after sitting on a bench making fun of the runners and skateboarders on Sunday. A relaxing weekend for a couple who usually never got a chance for relaxation due to our constant and almost compulsive need to cause trouble.

Friday afternoon, we were at Zach’s father’s house, arriving just as they left for their annual Labor Day weekend trip to their cabin somewhere in Pennsylvania. We (actually, I) immediately broke into the lock on their keg fridge, and we proceeded to fill empty water bottles with beer. After a few hours of drinking beer, watching tv, and looking through his father’s and step mother’s things just for random laughs and being nosy, we packed up the rest of our beer and headed back to my campus. It was awesome. Almost nobody was there and we finished the beer while cranking Lil’ Wayne and manically dancing in my dorm room.

I should have known something was wrong when we went downstairs to smoke a cigarette and Zach tried sliding down the railing, but fell right over the side and busted his ass on the ground. Everyone who was hanging out in the common room totally saw it and rushed over to be all, “Is he okay?!?!” As Zach cracked up laughing and hobbled down the remaining stairs, I said, “Yeah, he’s fine. You kids never saw this.” And ran out before the R.A. who wanted me dead (sort of) saw us being drunk.

Earlier that week, I made friends with a group of Engineering majors who lived in one of the adjacent dorms (which were basically apartments) and since they were mostly all over 21, I’d hang with them and drink. I got the foolish idea that maybe my new friends (all of whom were guys, by the way) would get along with Zach and we’d all have a nice time. Plus, I wanted to drink more, so ya know, win-win. Or so I thought…

The second Zach and I arrived at my friends’ dorm, he started giving offensive nicknames to them. My Marine friend was “Jarhead”. My friend whose parents were from Germany was “Germany”. (Some of them I can’t repeat and others I can’t remember. I was drinking, too.) When “Germany” arrived, he had some vanilla-flavored rum and Cherry Coke which he made into a drink he was proud of. Zach’s first words to him were, “Your drink really matches your sandals.”

(What a dick.)

Basically, Zach embarrassed the shit out of me in front of all my new friends, acting like a total asshole and telling them some extremely private things. He even downed like half of a half-gallon of Evan Williams which belonged to “Germany”. (The next morning, my one friend texted me that everyone agreed they didn’t want Zach to come back because of his behavior.) So once things officially got out of control that night, I tried to make him act as sober as possible for the 100-yard walk back to my building. Everything seemed fine. (Especially after we smoked a joint in the shower. Not like “in” the shower, but in the part of the bathroom with the shower because it has a vent and you can turn the water up really hot so… blah blah, etc.) Then we fall asleep. In my mind, the giant “Mission Accomplished” banner was flying beautifully.

Yet just like the tragic tale of my hero, G-Dub, our mission was anything but "accomplished".

Yet just like the tragic tale of my hero, G-Dub, our mission was anything but “accomplished”.

I stirred from my sweet slumber from fists pounding on my door and loud voices from the hallway yelled at me to, “Open up!” The clock on my bedside table read 5:11 and Zach was nowhere to be seen. I said, “Alright, alright! I’m coming!” already annoyed that someone would dare wake me up at this unholiest of times. (I’m a really deep sleeper and I tend to punch people who try to wake me up.)

I opened the door to see a campus “police officer” (air quotes and sarcastic tone) and the Residential Life Coordinator (whatever that is) standing before me. If I gave any attitude, it’s because it was 5 o’clock on a Saturday morning and I hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Do you know Zach ____? He says he’s a guest of yours.”

“Yes…” What in the fuck could he have possibly done this time?! I thought to myself.

“We caught him running around campus naked and appearing to be intoxicated. He’s currently being held in the jail cell until his parents arrive. He says his clothing is here?”

(WHAT A DICK.)

I composed myself and got his clothes to give to the “police officer”.

“Wait, like jail? At the station downtown?”

“No, the campus headquarters [lol, “headquarters”] has a holding cell.”

So he’s in pretend prison? But I didn’t say that outloud because then this asshole started asking me questions.

“Was Zach drinking this evening?”

It’s morning, dickhead. “Yes.”

“May we come inside to check your room?”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“No, we don’t need one. Campus policy.” (LIES LIES LIES LIES. They TOTALLY need a warrant, but that’s a story for another time.)

They come inside and ask me stupid shit and this guy’s acting like he’s a real cop or something, and SURPRISE! He doesn’t find any evidence of drugs or alcohol.

“Were you drinking as well?”

“No.”

“Let me smell your breath.” (Hey, kids: this is 100% illegal. If a cop ever asks you this question, bring up the 4th Amendment and send his pig-ass packing. #themoreyouknow)

“Uhh… no, I just woke up.” (He then MAKES me do it. Then he coerces me into telling him I drank which is also totally illegal.)

“I just had some beer.”

“Oh really?” maniacally laughing. “Doesn’t smell like you just drank ‘some beer’. That beer have rubbing alcohol in it?” Laughs again. I consider what murder would do to my transcript. “Well, I’m charging you for underage drinking. This is a copy of your citation. You’ll get a letter telling you when to be in court, I suggest A.R.D. Have a nice weekend.”

If you can read that, you'll understand why the dick is there.

If you can read that, you’ll understand why the dick is there.

So there’s the story of how I got my first and only law violation because my ex ran around my college naked. (He got locked out to go to the bathroom and thought that the giant blue emergency lights were telephones.) I also missed the phone call Saturday morning from my dad who had planned to fly me and my cousins to a Phillies game in Atlanta at Turner-freakin’-Stadium. I don’t know what the moral here is, people, but college is stupid and Penn State can eat it. The end.

Check out some funny posts from the folks at Funny Blog Friday!

Victoria of Angst Anarchy

Jamie of Fits of Wit

Jessie of Jessie Reyna & Jessie Janelle Reyna

HE Ellis of HE Ellis

Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog

Jenn of Properly Ridiculous

Alice of Alice At Wonderland

Lisa of Buddhaful Britt

JC of JCS Bloggery

Sarah of No Cry Babies

Elke of The Pretty Platform

Jack of The Things I see Up Here

Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks

Charly of Crazy Life

Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe

Karilin of That Nameless Color

Arthur from Pouring My Art Out

Happy Funny Blog Friday everybody!!

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Just Your Everyday Neighborhood Nonsense, People From My Past, This Is What It's Like To Be Catholic, Who Is Alanna?

“Bloody Mary, Full Of Vodka, Blessed Are You Among Cocktails. Pray For Me Now At The Hour Of My Death, Which I Hope Is Soon. Amen.”

(That’s from “Archer” but it rings true here as well. Thank God for Russians. And tomato juice.)

Ahh yess… I am quite the lucky one. I’ve been given the glorious task of contributing pictures of my ex boyfriend for his birthday party/girlfriend’s baby shower. And because of my blessed Catholic guilt, I agreed to do it. So as I sit here, cropping myself out of memories and chugging bloody mary’s, I have to wonder…

Is there such a thing as “too much” vodka?

I’ve concluded there is not, although I know this in my heart to be false. However, I’m unsure if I currently have a heart because there is nothing inside me but alcohol and numbness. (Also tomato juice, which is giving me a bit of heartburn.)

I’ve created a fun new drinking game out of this pain and loneliness: take a drink whenever I start to cry.

(At present, I am plastered.)

Do you guys remember that game (and/or “horror-fest”) that you played as children when you’d go into the bathroom at midnight and say “Bloody Mary” 3 times in the mirror? Well even though she doesn’t appear and slaughter you (spoiler alert), you will see a crazed redheaded woman screaming with makeup running down her face.

At least that’s what I see.

bloody mary tumblr

Despite the fact that I was always more of a Queen Elizabeth fan, I’m starting to understand Mary Tudor’s methods. (Not killing Protestants. I just mean the whole “burning people” thing.) She was just pissed, that’s all. Her lovely mother was replaced by a trashy ho named Anne Boleyn and she wasn’t about to let her shitty hypocrite father stomp all over her beliefs. “Defender of the Faith”, my ass! Thinks he’s a goddamn prophet…

Anyways, people should quit giving her a raft of shit because I’d probably do the same thing if my father tossed my mom out and tried to disown me…

oh, wait! He totally did! (The latter part at least.)

mary tudor bloody mary

Also, thank you very much to my ex and his family for giving me the task of providing you with pictures that I TOOK.

kenny powers meme

So fuck them and fuck everybody and have a nice day. Also check out this post from Thought Catalog that reminded me of my post from a couple weeks ago. God bless and peace out and whatever else people say. I’m getting too drunk to see the keyboard.

UPDATE NOVEMBER 13th, 2014:

I totally emailed her the pictures and said something like, “Here’s the pictures, congratulations on everything! Wishing you all the best! *smiley face* ” and guess what the fuck she said in her response email…

“Thank you for the pictures. Your being really nice about this whole baby thing I know it’s hard because you still have feelings for zach but we are about to start a family and you gotta understand where I’m coming from when I ask you to stop contacting him.”

Ignoring all the grammar and spelling mistakes, I’m sitting here like WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!?! I don’t even contact him, HE contacts ME and I don’t want to be a part of their shitty little family!!!

(As though I’d leave my current fantastic boyfriend and get together with my ex so he can be a giant anchor shackled to my foot forever pulling me deeper and deeper into the water until I’m drowning in regret and clutching onto his child who calls me “Aunt Alanna”.)

Absolutely not! Ridiculous

So I responded with this:

“Of course, I totally respect that and I wish you both the best. I won’t contact Zach anymore and I’m truly sorry if I’ve offended you in any way. That was never my intention. I really do wish you both happiness and I’m glad that I could help with the pictures. I promise you won’t be hearing from me anymore lol :)”

BECAUSE THAT IS WHO THE FUCK I AM, PEOPLE. THAT IS WHO. I. AM.!!!!!!!!!

*drops mic*

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