He Charges By The Hour

St. Pauly Boy is working on a special project for me. I just thanked him and he said "Yeah, well I charge fifty bucks an hour." So I told him I'd pay him with sex. Hot sex. And he looked me right in the eye and said...

"I think I'd rather take the fifty bucks."

Open letter to all husbands/boyfriends/life partners of the universe:

Dear Husbands, Boyfriends, Life Partners of the Universe,

Do not ever, ever complain about the lack of sex in your life when you tell your significant other that you'd rather take the money.

Kthanksbye.
St. Pauly Girl

The Story of Us

LPO and I used to be roommates. It seems like a long, long time ago. We were horrible housekeepers. Total slobs. We never bought groceries, never vacuumed, and left our clothes in the laundry room for days. We partied hard on weekends (& sometimes on week nights) and we mostly laid around and watched TV. The best thing about LPO was that we liked the same TV, for the most part. I could handle all the Sports Center and he could handle all of the reality show drama. About 3 months into our roommatedom, I met St. Pauly Boy. It wasn't an instant, I'm-so-in-love-I'm-running-away-with-him-right-now situation. The whole relationship thing made me very nervous. Uncomfortable, even. Prior to SPB, I was used to being the pursuer. I wanted to be the pursuer. I was comfortable being the pursuer. It's a control thing. But with SPB, it was different. Suddenly I was the pursuee, and it felt very strange. So I acted like a total chump. I mean, what else do you act like when you feel strange?

SPB was living in The OC full-time at this point in our relationship. In fact, he moved there to live and work, full-time, just 2 days after our first date. Which was 2 days after we met*. For the first month, he came to visit me every other weekend. Then he made the ultimate "I'm into you" move. He flew home from CA and then drove 8 hours into Wisconsin to meet up with me and 30 of my closest friends (including my only brother) for a camping trip and a couple of Dave Matthews concerts. I was so freaking nervous, sitting in my campsite surrounded by my friends, thinking about him driving down 94, wishing I had cell phone access to call the whole thing off and send him back home. So I pounded a few beers. I felt better once he got there.

Back to the acting like a chump thing. After the camping trip experience, he went back to CA for a couple weeks and then made arrangements to fly in for a weekend to see me. The night of his arrival, LPO and I had some friends over and I remember my stomach turning into knots at the thought of him. When he called to tell me that he'd landed, I told him that I didn't feel like hanging out that night and that maybe, just maybe I'd call him the next day. I could tell that he was crushed. And it really only made me feel worse. It was LPO and our mutual friend Rice who talked me down from the ledge. The two of them were talking about how much they liked St. Pauly Boy and how they would actually miss him if I broke it off. Sitting there listening to them talk about my boyfriend that way really triggered something in me. But I was too shy to fix it. When Rice offered to call him back and tell him to come over, I said yes. How awkward for SPB. His girlfriends [male] friend, that he's met twice, calling him up and re-inviting him over after she had made it clear she didn't want to see him that night. He wouldn't commit until I came to the phone and validated Rice's invitation. And I did.

After that night, I let myself love him. LPO was a big part of that. I'm not sure he knows.

LPO met his soulmate just another month after I met St. Pauly Boy. The 4 of us are very close. We all participated in each others weddings. We live pretty close and try, with all of lifes craziness, to get together on a regular basis. LPO and South St. Pauly Girl are one of the 3 people who actually read my blog! Now that's love. LPO and I laugh about how if neither of us had met our spouses, we'd still be living together in a messy apartment with no groceries and laundry overflowing. But I'm pretty sure we both agree that our current lives are too good to trade.

The inspiration for telling this story came last weekend when we got together with LPO and his South St. Pauly Girl and they announced that there is a little one on the way. I know my initial reaction was "OMG, you're going to be a dad!?!?", LPO, but honestly, I can't imagine anyone being a better one. I'm so happy for you guys and I can't wait until South St. Pauly Girl starts craving pickles and ice cream.

Here's to Gilly!!

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*The first meeting of SPG & SPB is somewhat controversial. We actually met twice before, but neither meeting was a positive experience**, so I count our first official meeting as the first time I actually really talked to him. That's the day I'm talking about here.

**He thought I was cute, I thought he was an ass.

I Win, I Win!

Last Friday night we were hanging out with my brother and future SIL and St. Pauly Boy was showing off his juggling skillz for us. He was using softballs. They ain't soft, people. SPB is sporting a sweet black eye right now. He looks tough. It kind of turns me on.

Anyway, last night over calzones, we were discussing the ridicule he was about to endure from his coworkers the next day in the office. When I asked him how he was going to explain his war wound, he said, "I'm gonna tell them it was ninjas". I bet him that everyone in his office would ask if his wife kicked his ass*. I bet him toilet duty for 1 whole month.

Get the scrub brush out, baby, that toilet is gonna shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!

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*DISCLAIMER: St. Pauly Girl is not a husband-beater nor does she condone domestic violence in any way.

Football Is The Root of All Insanity

I love football. I really really do. But I'm so tired of how insane it causes people to behave. Or maybe the more accurate way to state it would be how insane people allow themselves to behave when it comes to football. I've always had an issue with this aspect of the game. It's taken too seriously, professional players make way too much money and are not held responsible for their actions in society nearly enough, fans take the devotion of their favorite team to a level that is quite frankly ridiculous, and this is to just name a few. A good friend of mine was at the Vikings v. Bears game at the Metrodome this weekend. He's a die-hard Bears fan, born and raised in Chicago where he still lives, and went to the game to cheer for his team. Last time I checked, that wasn't illegal or wrong in any moral sort of way. But he was straight up harassed by Vikings fans at the Dome, who went further than just throwing things at him during the game (which is, let's face it, a normal action that occurrs at lots of football stadiums around the country when it comes to fans of the visiting team). These fans made it racial. They brought back the "n" word. I guess you could say the "n" word never truly went away, I guess it was just my hope that it had. It's so disappointing. Why do people have to act this way, just because you root for opposing teams? I'm all for a little light hearted trash talking, but come on people, this is fucking ridiculous.

I want to keep enjoying the NFL. I love the drama of it, week in and week out, but the hype is getting hard to handle. Rivalry is not an acceptable excuse for people to act like ignorant hicks. Why can't we all just get along?

The Source of Random Laughter

A coworker just informed me that when I move to the cube across the floor from her, she's going to miss my random laughter. That's cute. Here is the source of my [current] random laughter, which in turn inspired her to tell me that she'll miss me:

Hey Baby/Control+Alt+Delete

If I Could Be Queen For Just One Day

Along with Squab's, the following would apply in the Republic of St. Pauly Girl.

To be banned from The Republic:

1) Project plans and/or status reports
2) The following phrases: "inform the plan", "guidepost", "solve-for", and "vetting".
3) Incentive bonuses
4) Cubes
5) Paris Hilton (and anyone in her posse)

To be mandated in The Republic:

1) Bonuses. Straight up. Big ones.
2) Chinese delivery no matter where you live.
3) Free HBO
4) All fashion models must weigh no less than 150 pounds.
5) Dog walking services come with purchase of the dog.

A View from St. Pauly Girls Shoes

Get to work way early in order to organize yourselve for the meriad of questions that you have for your Project Manager and teammates. Go sit at the table where the meeting is to take place. When no one shows up, go back to your desk and decide to take your recycling to the copy room. When you're on your way to the copy room, you happen to pass by your collegues cube where your PM is meeting with of your teammates, although the meeting was deemed unnecessary. On your way back from the copyroom, you notice that your PM is now meeting with your other teammate, and assume that your PM is making the rounds to each teammate individually. When you stop to ask if the regular meeting is to still take place, you're told that everyone decided we didn't need it. You wonder why, if they don't "need" the meeting, they're still technically meeting. You also wonder why you were not consulted upon the cancellation of said meeting when you're the one who has a list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks a million miles long yet you're the only one who doesn't get to meet because the meeting was deemed unnessary. Tell your PM you wish to speak with her and receive a positive response. Go back to your desk and twiddle your thumbs, look busy just in case the CIO walks by (which he tends only to do when you take a moment to surf the web). You can hear your PM talking to one of your teammate about various things and you're pretty sure she's not coming over to speak with you about your list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks, so you say "Screw it", to yourself, not outloud, throw your list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks away (as their relevance is apparently insignificant) and go down to Caribou for your Medium Light Roast - no room for cream. When you get to the Bou, the line is 150 people long, but you decide it's worth it and proceed to wait. When you finally get to the counter, not only do you get 10 cents off even though you didn't even attempt to answer the trivia question, but you also get a free upgrade to a Large. A Large! With no room for cream! Contented, you walk back up to your desk and decide that your day will be devoted to keeping up to date with Go Fug Yourself, as your list of questions/issues/concerns/clusterfucks has seemed to resolve itself. You sip your coffee and look forward to leaving work early as a personal reward for coming in before the sun came up.

Pat yourself on the back, St. Pauly Girl. Job well done.

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UPDATE: Get an email from your PM saying she's at her desk if you want to swing by. When you look at the clock you realize that you have another meeting starting in 2 minutes. You proceed with your original plan for the day and do not respond.

You know you missed a dose of your Zoloft when....

...you can't stop crying because the Crocodile Hunter is dead. Yes, it's a tragic story but it's not like I know the guy. I cried like it was my grandfather's funeral. Unreal.

I'll be getting right back to my Zoloft now, thankyouverymuch.