Thanksgiving 2009: The year I brought home the rageaholic who was allergic to turkey.

I met Stan through a mutual friend my senior year of college.  He lived in Indianapolis, where he attended law school, and I was still at school in South Carolina.  Having hit it off on our first meeting, we remained in touch, which led to him visiting me at school and me traveling to Indy for his annual law school formal.  Over the course of the weekend I developed a serious crush.  He was so cute and funny.  He owned books and spoke in complete sentences.  It was all so hypnotizing. His name was Rick and he was Stan's roommate.  Oh what a pickle I had gotten into.  Knowing that the roommate swap rarely happens without serious damage, I left Indy with no intentions of staying in contact with either of them.  But while at the airport, enjoying a delicious cinnamon pretzel, I decided to friend request Rick.  Fast forward over several drunk dials and countless IM conversations and I found myself in a relationship with Stan's roommate.

Several months into my relationship with Rick we decided it was time for him to meet the family.  Thanksgiving seemed like the right sort of holiday for it, seeing as it is fairly low pressure, centered mostly around binge eating, etc.  But as November rolled around I began noticing some things about Rick that seemed a bit off.  Please understand that this relationship was one that I was committed to making work.  While enjoying 'ritas and sizzling fajitas at a local Chili's, I even told my friend, Kathryn, that I thought he might be 'the one'.  Having made such a bold claim I had no choice but to forge ahead with the relationship, red flags and all.

Red Flags One Ought Not Look Past

1. Boy approaches intersection with girl in car on the way to girl's secret favorite restaurant, Buffalo Wild Wings.  Boy stops car late and blocks majority of cross walk.  Homeless man waiting to cross street flails arms at boy while yelling about blocked cross walk.  Boy rolls down window and yells something like, "F*CK YOU, YOU F'ING HOMELESS SH*T HEAD, YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE ALIVE YOU F'ING F'ER GODDDDD I F'ING HATE F'ING HOMELESS F*CK HEADS".  Light turns green, boy rolls up window and continues yelling to girl about what a terrible waste of life the homeless man is and why he deserves to be dead for reacting to the blocked crosswalk.  Girl is scared and can't stop laughing.  Girl barely enjoys boneless asian zing wings.
2. While visiting boy's alma matar for a football weekend, boy takes girl to boy's fraternity house for post game fun times.  Boy asks random current brother for a beer.  Current brother says they are in basement and that boy is welcome to go get as many as he would like.  Boy yells at current brother for what he considers, 'total disrespect of an alum'.  Boy makes girl leave.  Girl has to quit dominating flip cup table.  Boy preaches to girl about fraternity respect things for two hour drive home.
3. Boy owned red bed sheets.  Ew.

As we came closer to Thanksgiving and the inevitable trip home, I found myself becoming increasingly repulsed by Rick.  I started noticing things outside of his anger issues that furthered my discomfort.  It became clear he only had 5 shirts in his standard rotation and his blonde hair seemed to repel water, never actually looking clean.  He bought a compact car.  Ect.

The first day of our visit home went fairly well.  I pretended to love him and he was on his best behavior.  Shit started to get real on Thanksgiving morning.  Rick claimed to be allergic to turkey.  Thinking ahead, I shared this fact with my mom and she ordered a delicious honey baked ham.  We both neglected to fill my father in on this detail.  An insight on my father; at his mother's funeral, didn't shed a tear; upon presentation of the 2005 hickory smoked turkey, eyes welled up with tears of joy.  I went outside to visit my father as he watched over our turkey and mentioned Rick's allergy.  My father laughed to himself and said that he's never heard of anyone with a turkey allergy so it probably doesn't exist.  So, as one might expect, during the meal my father insisted that Rick try a bite of his masterpiece.  Rick nibbled on an edge of a slice and agreed it was excellent turkey.  Noting he had barely tried it, dad refrained from acknowledging Rick for the rest of his stay.  

That evening I had a small group of friends over to hang out.  We all go way back and while the conversation began with them trying to get to know Rick, it quickly turned towards topics that didn't include him.  Over a three hour period, while a group that included my parents, visited and sipped beverages, Rick slammed 8-10 cans of Milwaukee's Best.  No one who was there that night, much less my family, even knows where he found the case of Beast.  At any rate, he pouted the whole time and after the guests left he spent an hour explaining why they were all terrible people for not caring more about his being editor in chief of the law review, blah blah blah.

The next morning my mother told me, in the nicest way possible, that my little boyfriend has a drinking problem.

Shockingly, we didn't actually break up until New Year's followed by a relapse with a final break up just before summer.  Some are harder to get rid of than others.  By this point I had created a track record of sorts - bringing the boyfriend home during the demise of the relationship.  But I somehow managed to block that out and invited then unemployed new boyfriend home for Christmas just two months into our dating.  The final installment of this trilogy will cover that, not to worry.

Bringing Home Boyfriend

Some of you may be thinking, "Wait…what?  You just started dating this person and you are already bringing him home to meet the parents?  Isn't it a little soon for that?"  You would be correct.  After dating my boyfriend, let's call him Driz, officially for less than two months, he flew across the country to spend part of the Christmas holiday with my family.  I have a tendency to fast track relationships to the 'meet the parents' stage a bit prematurely.  This, combined with the fact that I'm very fickle has caused a lot of uncomfortable visits.  Two situations come to mind immediately…(chimes sound effect signal a flashback memory sequence right…now.)

I had just broken up with Todd, my high school boyfriend who I followed to college in South Carolina (that story is for another time children), and in typical Jbird fashion, I was hot on the trail for my next relationship.  Enter Don.  Two reasons Don seemed like a good fit at the time.  One, he was bff with one of my bff's bfs; double dates at Ruby Tuesday's - YES PLEASE.  And two, if I squinted my eyes he looked like a slimmed down version of Todd, who I was still very attracted to.  It was nearing the end of spring semester and Don was set to start pharmacy school, four hours away, that next fall.  So, having dated casually for several weeks, we made plans to continue our relationship and make long distance work.  

A mix tape (cd) exchange, a teary good bye, and I was on the road back to Texas.  Within a few days of being apart, Don had purchased a plane ticket to visit me.  A plane ticket for a flight FOUR WEEKS AWAY.  A lot can happen in four weeks.  Enter Hunter.  Hunter had a boat.  It was the summer time.  Teaser for future Hunter stories: when he liked something he would use expressions like, "sweet ass sweet" to describe them.  Deciding that suffering through four terribly awkward days of having a boy who I had no interest in staying in my home, would be better than calling him and telling him not to come, he boarded a flight bound for Houston.  It's worth mentioning that this was his FIRST TIME ON AN AIRPLANE; he was 21 at the time.  I told Hunter I would be busy for a few days and planned a lot of structured activities for Don and I.  

The airport greeting included a closed beak Jbird kiss and a presentation of gifts from Don.  The gifts included a picture of us inside a frame decorated with mementos from our love story (i.e. a Hootie and the Blowfish concert ticket, a bottle cap from a beer I once drank, etc) and a set of South Carolina coasters.  From the airport, I brought him over to my friend Lauren's house to swim and have lunch.  Over chicken tacos, he shared with Lauren and I that it's common knowledge that gay men are gay because, "their parents let them play with dolls and stuff when they were little."  Oh sweet Jesus I must have been very drunk back at school.  

Having no physical attraction to this person, whom I was slowly beginning to believe might be gay, I avoided all contact.  Noticing this he said, "I think it's sweet that you are so respectful of your parents that we can't kiss on the lips in their home".  Don was really doing most of the work for me by this point.  Over those four days we saw three movies, one museum exhibit, two sporting events, and spent all remaining moments in the company of my parents and / or friends who owed me favors.  My mother loved him more than all of the suiters that came before him (or since him for that matter).  She also had suspicions regarding his sexuality.  When recently asked about Don, my father did not recall his existence or his stay at our home.

After dropping him off at the airport I made plans to meet up with Hunter and I never spoke to Don again.  It's possible that Don and I are still dating.

Lesson learned…not quite.  Two years later, a much wiser Jbird invited anger problem Rick to join her in Texas for Thanksgiving.  Stay tuned for that tale as well as the culmination of this series, a Texas Christmas with the Current Future Mr. Jbird.

Mix Tape (CD) from Don Song List

Aint No Mountain High Enough Marvin Gaye

Anything But Mine Kenny Chesney
Double Shot (Of My Baby's Love) The Swingin' Medallions
Good Morning Beautiful Steve Holy
How Forever Feels Kenny Chesney
Irish Instrumental Boondock Saints Soundtrack
Lean on Me Bill Withers
Mud on the Tires Brad Paisley
Sexual Healing Ben Harper
She's Got a Way Billy Joel
She's Got it All Kenny Chesney
Simply Beautiful Al Green
Steal My Kisses Ben Harper
Two Princes The Spin Doctors
Walker, Texas Ranger Theme Song
Wonderful World Sam Cooke
Wrapped Up in You Garth Brooks
Yes! Chad Brock
39-21-46 The Showmen

Happy Birfday, Go Fuck Yaself.

I'm not a huge fan of birthdays in general; my own or anyone else's really.  It's a nice excuse to drink and eat in excess and I do like that everyone gets an equal opportunity at a birthday celebration (unlike weddings, Quinceaneras and Bat Mitzvahs which are all higher on my shit list) but overall I think they are retarded.

At any rate, I just celebrated my 25th birthday and amidst all the balloons and sobbing, I paused to reflect upon my first 25 years on this planet.  I wanted to make a list of 25 positive accomplishments I can claim as a 25 year old.  Unfortunately I could only think of 15, so that will have to do.  If you all want to help complete this list please feel free.

25 Accomplishments at 25

1.  I earned an undergraduate degree from a real college. 

2. I am employed (for now)

3. I have a healthy credit score.

4. I have countless (translated: six) friends.

5. I have an ever expanding collection of decorative birds.

6. I have a netflix account AND dvr.

7. I have a pseudo-boy friend (that I did not meet on the internet).

8. I hold Executive Premier status on America's #1 airline network.

9. I'm not pregnant.

10. I'm moderately attractive.

11. I have a superb singing voice.

12. I make awesome paper dolls.

13. I make the funniest Brett Favre penis jokes of any girl I know.

14. My hybrid gets 37 mpg.

15. I'm being told I look exactly like Amy Poehler less and less frequently.

Some of you may be wondering about #7.  It's true.  My internet dating accounts have been suspended.  Wanna know what happens when you have exhausted every dating option available and find yourself alone and scared?  You lower the friend zone gates and date the only straight guy best friend still standing.  "Oh no JBird, what if it doesn't work out and you mess up your long standing friendship?".  To that I say mind your own beeswax betch.  So what am I going to write about now?  Well, I'm dating my best guy friend who lives in his dad's basement and often can be found lounging in a camo snuggie.  I think I'll have something for you.  Stay tuned.

I hope the person next to me was reading over my shoulder.

I hate going to the lady doctor.  Not because of the getting a telescope shoved up a small opening part.  And no, not because I always end up saying something really weird and terribly not funny when they ask whether or not I am sexually active.  Example: "Not really, I mean no, I mean I have, tons in college, oh and after college too, just not really lately, see my ex-boyfriend was a virgin, but the one before him - WOAH not at all, so yea, but I'm not a slut or anything, not that having lots of sex makes a girl a slut, such a double standard, oh my god your scrubs are so cute, where did you get them? SEX!"

At any rate, I have a retard ovary that gets excited and flips over sometimes.  So I get a bit of anxiety going to the vaj doctor.  In order to calm my anxieties I decided to get some thoughts down on paper while sitting in the waiting room.  I've met a lot of men over the past couple of months, both on the internet and in real life.  So I decided to do a little comparison of the two groups.  I took a photo of my notes for your enjoyment. 

There's no real winner here.  Both sets of gentlemen make me want to buy a couple of cats and start shopping at The Dress Barn or just light my face on fire.  But I'll let you decide for yourself. 

Actual notes taken by JBird while in the vaj doctor waiting room; straight lines achieved by using magazine edge

What do I have in common with a 41 year old podiatrist?

White people photographed while loving all things boat related.

A shared love for the sea.  That's what.  So obviously my attractive 25 year old girlfriends and I jumped at the chance to be a part of this bunyon lover's boat party.  A little advice to men out there; if you are unattractive, past your prime, or just like to bang random slutty girls during the summer months, then consider boat ownership as a path to happiness.  We can't say no to boats, especially not nice boats, this has been proven for thousands of years.  Look to the film masterpiece, Captain Ron, if you need further proof.  

At any rate, my besties and I showed up to the marina with bells on.  We drank countless beverages that were prepared by lonely middle aged men and exclaimed in delight, "OMG this yum yum tastes just like lemonade! It must not be very strong. Hehehe!" We straddled swan shaped water floaties and even took a jump on the floating trampoline. I went so far as to talk, nay, flirt, with creepy 40 year old men.  One friend and I agreed to go on a trip to Vegas with short-one and fat-one (I had too many yum yums to remember their real names).  

The pinnacle of the experience was not the vegas invite, nor was it the delish slushy liquor drink machine we found on extra-old-moley's boat.  No, it was something short-one said to me after we shared a lovely conversation getting to know one another.  He looked me, maybe in the eyes, with his trying-to-hard maui jim's and said, "It's great to meet such an average girl out here.  We normally only invite strippers".  

I was swept away by the romance of it all and retreated inside the boat to down more vodka.  It's too bad the season is coming to an end.  I think they would have made for great material.

This entry serves as the end to my internet dating vacation.  I'm back in the eGame and will report on that progress shortly.  

It doesn't count if you're blacked out, right?

I received an overwhelming response to my last post, so I took that to mean it was a great idea to pull a repeat and stay over at Peeter's again last weekend, twice.  I know what you are all thinking, "Seriously, the pee bed guy, isn't this blog about internet dating, why am I reading this, where am I?".  Bite your tongues.  I mean, yea, Peeter brought me back to his place to seduce me atop a urine soaked mattress, while playing hits by Usher to set the mood (did I not already mention that?) but let's give the guy a chance.  (Translated: I don't want to die alone)

So last Thursday a sober Peeter called and asked me out on a date to a new restaurant I've never been to and I hesitated, but finally agreed.  He came and picked me up and…wait, I'm sorry, that's someone else's life.  

Last Friday night rolled around and Peeter and I began exchanging a series of meaningless text messages.  I was busy at Lady Gaga for the first half of the evening.  I was with a straight guy friend who obviously had to do some serious binge drinking to make it through her show, so I blame him for my being drunk that early in the night.  After the show, my straight guy friend and I grabbed dinner (translated: honey wheat pretzels and a bottle of Andre from 7-eleven).  Following dinner we met up with friends at Social.  Thus began a texting conversation between Peeter and I.  I debated doing this, but you deserve to have the facts:

Peeter:  What are you up to tonight? (translated: wanna maybe give me a bj in a few hours?)

JBird: What ate you up to? We are getting ready to go out

Peeter: Great party tonight…I'll let you know as soon as we pick a bar…still up in the air at this point…holler

Peeter: Kincades…very dirty but fun…!

Peeter: This place is ratty but hilarious…..I would consider it

JBird: Dirty, ratty, perfect

Peeter: Not to mention we just made it prep….

JBird: What cool

Peeter: And you love the dirt, lol (translated: I hope you are easy)

JBird: You know me so well darling

JBird: Why don't you make your way towards hubbard (translated: the boys at the bar I'm at aren't paying enough attention to me)

Peeter: i know your style…you WOULD crush this environment

JBird: I'll crush your environment (translated: what the fuck)

JBird: no but just come to social (translated: seriously I need a drunk boy to be all over me in order to boost my self confidence)

Peeter: that is funny now should join me

JBird: Love to, not going to, boo, sad face

Peeter: I might be ripped but where ya at (translated: I get to be as drunk an idiot as I want because I warned you)

JBird: Best be here quick you 

Peeter: I I'm on the way…seriously cannot believe you yalked me inti this…love it (translated: Look I can barely type a text, proving I really am drunk and am therefore really not responsible for anything I do or say)

JBird: Sell me when

JBird: u social

Peeter: 5 mins…lol

Ahh romance.  I'm sorry that you are never going to get the 2 minutes you spent reading that back, but I'm trying to paint a picture here.  After he arrived I met him in the street and instead of having him come inside the bar, decided it was best for us to skip that part and just go back to his place.  While in the cab I had a revelation and decided I should not be going home with this boy and should instead be going back to my straight friend from out of town's hotel.  "Take me to the W" drunky JBird tells the cab driver.  A confused Peeter gives me a look.  "No", she says, "You don't understand, I'm going to my guy friend from high school's hotel room, it's fine."  Peeter tells tells the cab driver where he lives and we go back to his place.  The rest is a bit fuzzy.  And by a bit fuzzy I mean completely black.  I wake up the next morning in the midst of a near strangulation by my adorable chunky necklace (the kind that make guys say, "why the fuck would a girl wear something like that?").  Removing the Anthropologie designed noose around my neck, I take a moment to observe my surroundings.  I am (maybe half naked) on the floor in the corner.  Don't see the boy.  Very confused.  

This would scare most people, but I once woke up naked in the dorm room (top bunk, obvi) of someone I'd never met before in college, so I wasn't too worried about it.  I made brunch plans on my phone, dusted myself off and just before heading out the door, stole a pair of his sunglasses to hide the lack of shame on my drunky-JBird-next-morning face.  Note: before stealing sunglasses that you assume came from the $7 rack at CVS, examine them fully - these turned out to be Ferragamo's.  First rule in shacker stealing - don't take something he will want to get back.

The next night went similarly.  Normally the mystery of not knowing what happened at that dude's place the night before keeps me from repeat shacking back to back, but apparently I am very lonely.  Upon returning to Peeter's the next night I quickly passed out on the sofa and awoke to a love note from Peeter left on the coffee table that read, "Went back out, you passed out, be back later".  Don't worry, I saved it for our scrap book.  The next morning (translated: afternoon) I actually lingered at the apartment for a while, clearly still drunk, long enough to watch tv and enjoy a plate of eggs prepared by Peeter's roommate.  The light of day cast some much needed light on this situation.  Conclusion:  I CANNOT go home with this douchey mcdouche face EVER again.  It's not like going home with him is getting me laid (not that that's my goal or anything, but it wouldn't be the worst thing I guess, I mean I'm not a slut, but you know, everyone's got needs, and my numbers seriously not that high, so come on, quit judging me) or getting me free dinners and it's just creating a transportation issue the next day, so no.  No, drunk JBird, bad drunk JBird.  

On a side note, internet dating paranoia has officially set in.  While having drinks with my middle aged colleagues this week, one asked, "So, are you internet dating at all or have you thought about that?"  My face said - "WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU ASK ME THAT, RON!?!?  WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE?!  WHAT DO YOU KNOW? WHAT DID THEY TELL YOU?  I COULD HAVE YOU KILLED FOR ACCUSING ME OF SUCH THINGS!"  Luckily my lips said, "Nope, hehe, I hear it's a great thing for lots of people, but that's just not for me".  

Yea, so…stay tuned I hope.