Sweet Home College Park

Since I'm missing lacrosse alumni weekend in light of going to LA on Tuesday (miss you boys!!!), I wanted to post this little write up the Diamondback did about me, the show and the blog the other day. I thought it was really well done and it made me proud to be a Terp Alum.

Maryland Alum on Sweet Home Alabama

Quote of the Night

Just had to throw this in here, that of all the limited dialogue they showed, by far the funniest part of anything I said was "what position did you play? Because I will judge you horribly for it."

I fucking crack my own ass up sometimes.

Sweet Home What the Fuck?

Eh, he didn't look like he hated me too much, I don't think... ;). I looked cute, right?

Okay, let me preface with two things - one, I'm wasted. Two, the "e" button on my laptop keeps popping off.

Look kids, if you think I went down to 'Bama to find a husband, you clearly don't know me. I loved every minute of the experience I had, and I wouldn't change it. Yes, I cried (honestly, they told me the camera was off and I was so overtired I let it go). And yes I looked kind of chubby in a lot of scenes. But did you expect anything less? I mean, they cut so much of that meeting, but I think they showed so much of who I was. A no bullshit, "I'm not impressed with you until you give me a reason to be impressed" bitch who knows how much cooler it is to be a southpaw than a righty. This kid wasn't for me. He's not a bad dude - I don't know him very well other than his uh, Clemson situation... but not for me. And I meant it when I walked out of the barn, head held high, that yeah, I knew more about sports. And yeah, it's intimidating.

There was so much more that went into that episode that you didn't see. Me cracking open bottles of wine, sticking up for Hails, refusing to say grace at dinner, calling girls out on being Bible thumpers... and no, I will not get into the fact that Mandy made fun of me ("made fun of me") for commenting on the "no sidewalks" situation. The fuck? There WERE LEGIT NO SIDEWALKS IN ALABAMA WHERE WE WERE.

There were girls who I was there with that I thought the world of. Hailey Glassman was absolutely one of them. I know you guys read shit and believe the gossip, but if you've learned anything from this blog, ti's not to buy into the hype. Hailey is a good girl. She's fucking hilarious and was the girl I respected most on the whole show. She isn't a TMZ lady of doom. Bitch is a hard working, funny ass mother fucker and I got a serious case of humility when I met her. I HATED her the first day I met her. Why? No idea. She's Hailey Glassman. Obviously I have to hate her, right? Wrong. She and I did a photo shoot together (which you'll never see apparently) and I have not laughed that hard with another chick in god knows how long. Hailey is a good girl. And if you think for a second I've ever give credit to a vagina that didn't deserve it, you don't know me very well. She was my favorite, hands down. My token Jew.

As for anyone else? Nicole Ross and I shared the "first girls booted" situation and that girl is the tits. A real, normal, chill, gorgeous girl with a good head on her shoulders. I adore her.

Paige, Ashley, and little rapper Cassie? Those girls were awesome as well. Cassie was one of the sweetest people I have ever met in my life. Beyond genuine.

As for the girls I wasn't so fond of? Eh, let's just say I'm super judgmental and big tits don't impress me much. I'd rather have small titties and a little bit of class, than big titties and a lazy eye. I mean, let's call a spade a spade. And you will never see the arguments I got into, particularly the one about how I had "no feelings". There were girls in that house that got me, and girls int hat house who were still so much in 11th grade of high school. Lookswise, and personality wise. You can't force friendships, but good God it's easy to tell who you hate.

Point being? Don't judge a book by it's clothing. I don't give a lot of credit to women these days, but some of those girls, eh, I'll throw it out there. I loved 'em. And they were the ones who made the whole experience worth it. In fact, I absolutely can't wait to see Cassie in LA next week. And even the ones I didn't like, reminded me how lucky I am to be me and have this life. And be a brunette. And weigh 100lbs (even if it doesn't look like it on camera, ha).

As for the "reality" of reality. You guys are smart cookies. Make up your own minds. I won't do it for you. I know what I went through and what I experienced, and while a lot of it I'm not privy to chat about... I think it's out there for the mass consumption. While I might have looked terribly chubby during elimination (we had been waiting for like, 5 hours and it was pouring rain and I was wrecked and fat looking), i think my "oh fuck I'm totally peacing out tonight" look said it all. You think I didn't know I was getting tanked when I walked in? C'mon. Read my face as I walked up to him.

At the end of the day, it was one of the most unique experiences I've ever had. I love sharing my life and story with people, and doing this gave me that opportunity. It also gave me a huge dose of humility meeting girls and being proven wrong about my initial impressions about them. I got to see a part of the country I'd never have seen otherwise, and got to experience the awesomeness of being in a situation not many people find themselves in. I also got to try fried green tomatos, and pay 7 dollars for 3 blue moons.

Am I sad I got cut? No. Embarrassed? No. I know why I got cut, and if you don't, you're an idiot. But I am glad I got to meet these people and be a part of it and put myself out there in a new way. I'm glad I didn't stick around so I could be a "character" or fake fights. I'm glad I got cut because I was so fucking real, production didn't know how to deal with it. I'm glad DC Alvin made me try this out, because it got me back into the swing of things. And I am proud of that. Reality TV rep or not. I am proud of how I put myself out there, and there is not one thing I would change.

And all I can say, at the end of the day - Thank fucking God I'm a brunette, and a Yankee.

A little reminder if you have short term memory only...

I'm so not a plugger, but whatever, my fifteen minutes of tv "fame" are upon us. If you want to see how incredibly fucking retarded I am when I'm not blogging behind a computer screen, tune into (that sounds so fucking gay) CMT tonight at 9PM EST and watch me kick ass and represent everything awesome about small tittied girls from New York, while simultaneously being perhaps the most awkward girl on the god damn show, on Sweet Home Alabama, season 2.

I will probably be completely wasted by the time it comes on (how else am I supposed to get through this humiliation?), but rest assured as soon as the episode is over, I'll have a little recap tomorrow about it. And it will be hilarious.

Love you fuckers. Let's be lame, #teamcity bitches!

Top 25 Things About Being a Terp

Since the Diamondback, or as we affectionally call it, the DBK, is doing a piece on me and the show on Thursday, I figured I'd prep for the onslaught of 17-23 year old current Maryland student blog visitors by dating myself horribly and writing my top 25 favorite things about The University of Maryland, at least while I was there circa 2004-2008.

25. Ratsies/Adele's toasted ravioli. Toasted rav is surprisingly not something you come across in NYC, and while there are 4 billion different restaurants in NY, I sometimes still find myself craving it. And the fact that Adele's was like, the top "date spot" when I was a freshman. Crab dip anyone? (ps, this was an actual sandwich i once got from Ratsies. So good)

24. DP Dough. When I was in CP back in May for the Maryland/Colgate game, I ordered DP Dough to my motel room. Because that's what classy people do (ps, it was a construction zone).

23. Chicken Cheesesteaks with southwest sauce from South Campus Dining Hall. When I worked at the DBK, which is right about SCD, I used to get one once a day. My bestie at the paper, Steven Overly, would legit watch me eat it with some kind of great interest that such a little person could devour basically a whole chicken with provolone, peppers, onions, and a shit tone of southwest sauce. So good.

22. Let's get off food for a sec and go with the mall. I remember at my orientation, it was 3,000 fucking degrees and the middle of June, and I remember sitting on the mall and thinking "this is exactly where I want to be in the fall." Getting my student ID was probably like, the coolest thing ever for me at the time. I am so lame. And don't you dare hate on that pooka shell necklace.

21. Route 1 riots. I went to...let me think... Maybe 4 riots all through college. The best was when our women's bball team beat duke for the national championship my sophomore year. I lost a shoe near Pot Belly's. Never recovered.

20. Easton Hall. My freshman dorm where I slept on ice packs for the first month of school because it was so god damn hot. I made my best friend in college on the third floor, (3114 was my room) and the girl who worked the front desk in the morning watched me perform so many barefoot walks of shame that year, she offered to keep a pair of flip flops for me behind the desk for me. And yes, this was my room on a "I need to clean my 4 feet of space" day freshman year.

19. Noodles & Co. We don't have it in NYC either, sadly. I don't know how many times I've craved a pasta fresca or buttered noodles with seasoning. And a giant rice krispie treat.

18. Rugged. The best place on earth to come up with the cheapest yet most elaborately whorish Halloween costumes ever.

17. Any class in the English department taught by Mike Olmert. If you haven't taken a class with him yet, take one. Any one. They are all awesome, and he is one of the coolest professors you will ever have. You will learn more about life in one of his classes than you will learn all four years at Maryland, as any major. Plus, he's a Yankees fan.

16. Dave Cottle's mullet. Cottle was the men's lacrosse coach when I was there, so I worked under him, and his mullet was a thing of beauty.

15. Power Hour Tuesdays at Lupos (which then became Thirsty Turtle, which now is something else I think?). We'd start at SigNu and end up there come hell or high puking.

14. Parties at Sigma Nu and Lambda Chi Alpha. And then walking home through that shady path by the old Sigma Chi house behind the Old Leonardtown apartments. How I managed to not get mugged/murdered/raped in that order sophomore year is beyond me.

13. The feeling when your lotto number just squeeze by to give you the last apartment in South Campus Commons. Air conditioning, cleaning staff, full beds, single rooms, washer and dryer. It's like the college equivalent of finding a rent controlled apartment in the mid 70s on the upper west side now adays.

12. Hating Duke. There is just something about hating on Duke so bad being a Terp, it makes you proud. And on those random occasions we beat Duke in anything from basketball to ping pong tournaments, it's just an awesome level of pride. I eventually ended up dating a guy who had played lax at Duke, but trust me when I say I think he hated Duke more than I did...

11. Wracking up $2,000 worth of yellow tickets because I used to always park right next to Susquehana before I lived in South Campus Commons and I didn't have a permit. And then my mom browbeat the head of DOTS by saying people borrowed my car and she was a widow (we have no shame in my family) and got it all erased.

10. HEY, YOU SUCK. I think that got banned like, my junior year of college. Still banned? Whatever, I still have my shirt.

9. Tailgating in Lot 1 and more than likely never making it into the football game that we'll probably lose anyway.

8. The gym. Value that gym with all your might, because when you graduate, you'll be paying 80 bucks a month for a gym half as awesome in DC, NYC, Boston, Philly or Baltimore.

7. Watching girls crying in Stamp after getting rejected from their top house during rush in February. I saw legit nervous breakdowns in my four years there. I kind of felt bad knowing someone else could have had my spot in Theta and wouldn't have, you know, hated it.

6. Lemon drop and kamikazi shots at Cornerstone for your 21st birthday. Followed by a trip from Niteride back to your apartment, ordering Danny's and puking for the next 12 hours while pen ink rubbed off your arm from your tally marks.

5. Friends in Low places playing at Bentley's and Cornerstone, standing in the corner with my three bests and the men's lacrosse team taking SoCo and lime shots because it was the only shot I knew how to ask for and what went in it.

4. Maryland basketball, midnight madness, and the legacy of Gary Williams. "I'M FROM MARYLAND AND NOBODY CAN BEAT ME" - Nik Caner-Medley breakdowns 4 life.

3. Paying two dollars for a bottle of Bud Light, and being able to get wasted with your friends for less than 25 dollars, and then being able to walk a block home. Albeit the shadiest block ever (holla Knox Rd.), but still, just a block.

2. The DBK. I don't think people realize how much actually goes into that god damn paper. The DBK is a close second to how much I loved Maryland lacrosse. That group of people that I worked with my senior year were all amazing. I mean, future journalists and pulitzer prize winners basically surrounded me, and there I was this little retarded English major trying to work Quark. It was this awesome balance of feeling like I had to prove myself to them to gain a little credibility because they all knew what they were doing and were so with it and up to speed and focused, but then once I got a little bit of acceptance, once they realized I was more of a value because of my self deprecating humor and batshit crazy stories than I was my editing skills, I was in and they were it. Those were my buds, my friends, the people who seriously inspired me to be a better writer and be proud of the fact that I worked as an editor at one of the most reputable college papers in the country. The assholes I could wear my glasses around and not shower and tell all my stories to. They were, in theory, the very first audience to my blog. They got al the jersey chasing stories, the ex boyfriend stories, the actor stories. They made me feel like I belonged somewhere. They gave me confidence as a writer and for that, I will always be grateful.

1. Maryland men's lacrosse, particularly 2005's ACC Championship team. There was nothing that made college as awesome as those 48 fuckers. I miss them all horribly and wouldn't have traded them for anything. Those 48 fools, even the ones who were mega dicks, made my life interesting every god damn day. They saved me from my own stupidity and also exploited it terribly. I have probably cried just as many tears over lacrosse as I have laughed painful laughs over it. Maryland lacrosse is a huge, huge part of who I am today. When people ask me if I could have seen myself at one of the other colleges I applied to, I just think about how my life would have been so different without that team, and honestly, no I couldn't. They made college and were hands down the best part of being a Terp.

"Tell him"

Ohhh good GOD I have no love for Mondays. I have one week until I head out to LA and I feel like this week is just gonna crawl. You know when you're really really really looking forward to something, and one week feels like 7 months? Lame.

Anyway, I'll try and avoid my Monday boohoos and get some kind of sensible post out. I watched this skit on SNL on Saturday (yes, I am one of the few people left who occassionally still watches SNL) and it hit home in an "oh my god it's funny because it's so God damn true" way.

Here's the skit, I'll let you watch for yourself.

I mean, outside of some of the funnier parts ("tell him, that, you're nat-ur-ally hairless"), how true is this shit? I mean, I used to think it was just with athletes because come on, athletes usually have the pick of the litter. So you gotta step up your game and lie a little bit about your coolness. But then when I went on dates with "normal" dudes, I started to realize, the fuck, this is kind of the standard now?

What happened to dudes who took you out to dinner and like....worked for a little nookie? Now, I feel like if I don't tell a guy I love non-commital sex, that I don't want kids (half truth), and that I love being single, I have no shot of ever seeing him again. Where is there logic in that?

I laughed at the part where Kristen Wiig was like "he told me I was the chillest girl he had ever met, and then he said he'd call me". Do you know how many times this has happened to me? Like, I get a guy to admit it's pretty fucking awesome to meet a girl who likes sex sports and Belgian beers, and I feel like I'm awesome, and then HE NEVER CALLS ME.

Guys expect way too much up front from bitches these days, and I think I'm starting to get the brunt of that movement. Like, chivalry is dead among guys who aren't mutants. The only guys who still practice chivalry are little Jewish dudes who are desperate to get married to a nice Jewish girl. Even ugly geeky guys have this new feeling of "i deserve everything" thanks to the likes of the Seth Roegans and Jason Segels of the world. In real life, would Mila Kunis ever fuck Jason Segel? I mean, these movies empower these guys who have NOTHING to offer not only to be dicks to women who are out of their league, but to expect shit like "laid backness" and "constant waxing" and anal sex from these girls. It's beyond ridiculous and this is why dating blows now a days.

I mean, even a guy I went out with recently. He was nothing, I repeat NOTHING to look at. Short. Nerdy. pole up his assish. I gave him a shot. What does he do? Brag. And insult. He was so bad if I had a word bubble above my head like they have in Blind Date, it would have just constantly said "THE FUCK?". I mean, this guy brought nothing to the table, and still seemed to think I should be interested. Who the fuck is this kid? And why is every dbag in NYC like him?

Look, again, I hate getting all feminist on you because really, that's gross. I shave my legs, I get waxed, I wear makeup, I own only bras that have enough padding to be bullet proof. But why am I putting shit out there to be "chill" when a guy is bringing jack shit to the table? Why am I expected to be "chill"? Why can't I just be datable? And why are we letting gross dudes who have nothing to offer make these kind of demands, like they are owed such awesomeness?

Fuck this Occupy Wall St shit. Can't we get together as women and like, take back our pride and standards? Can't I save my anal sex and deep throat skills for a guy who, I don't know, deserves it? Why do I have to lay all my skills and abilities out on the table for guys who yell at me for not drinking red wine? Why do I feel like I'm competing with porn stars for this guy's affection when in reality, 5 years ago I wouldn't have looked twice at him in college and the only reason I'm looking at him now is because people tell me the ugly ones will treat you well?

Fuck it dude, I'd rather put my skills to use for an athlete with a story and a skill and a body that I can be proud of banging. Boys of NYC, you have been warned. Time to bring your own skills to the table.

This is not a Johnny Damon sitch.

David Ortiz discussing a possible move to the Yankees? That's like Satan asking for a pair of wings and a fucking harp. I don't know how I feel about this. I'm still praying for a Jorge Posada revival, to be honest...

Trending - Lacrosstitutes

So for those of you who have been following me since day one, I think you've come to realize the blog is more than just sordid sex stories. It's my life, my loves, my tears, my batshit crazy behavior, my friends, my family, and my opinions about assholes like Rachel Uchitel.

When I started the blog, I never wanted it to be one run on sentence about sex I've had. For this to work, for this to be what it has become for me, it had to be genuine. It had to be funny. It had to be more than "fucking". It had to be laughs and "what the fuck" moments and honesty. I had to be self deprecating while at the same time being proud as shit about the random things I did in order to fuck an athlete or hang out with a baseball player or bag a hockey player or get free tickets to a good game. It had to be about so much more than the sex. And I think I've done a fair job doing that. I think I've shown that a woman can be proud of her sex life without bragging about it. Without being totally brash. While still being relatable and funny and a little bit endearing. While still acknowledging the mistakes she's made along the way, even if they've been really fucking awesome (like flying to France to fuck a hot soccer player).

With that said, I give you The Laxtitutes. I won't link, but I'm sure you can easily Google the blog.

A few people have brought this very, very newborn blog to my attention. I read the first few posts, and I contemplated whether or not I wanted to bring it up. One, I don't really ever try to judge other people's blogs. Because tons of people judge mine, and I don't give a shit. I write what I write because I love it and it's become a huge part of my life the last year. It has made me a better person. It has helped me figure out my life a little bit better, and to be honest, it's made me a lot fucking funnier. So I don't ever really knock people for how or what they write about. Two, while this might be tooting my own tits, yeah, I think there's a lot left to be desired and I do it much better.

Look, read it for yourself and make an opinion. All I know is these girls are fishing to be something and in my opinion, not pulling it off. You wanna share your sex stories with the world, all the fucking power to you. Do you really think I'd ever knock that? It's what I do for a living. But somewhere down the line, like I said, it has to be more than just the sex. It has to be more than obnoxious word vomit about someone you fucked. There has to be more there than "oh my god he pissed all over the bed and i was like don't you remember and he was like no i don't remember and i was like how can you not remember and he was like oh my god i was so drunk." Who the fuck wants to read that? I gave up legit halfway through that post because Access Hollywood came on. That post was less entertaining than fucking Access Hollywood.

That's not a story. That's a stereotype that goes to the heart of every fucking "Scary Movie" script.

Look, these girls wanna fuck their lax teams, kudos to them. Been there, still sometimes do that. You know how I feel about Maryland lax. Those fuckers made college the best four years of my life. But from what I've seen of these girls' posts, they are nothing more than girls who wanna brag. And they aren't even doing it right.

What I'm asking is, what is the point? Why are they writing it? To brag? To boast? To make people laugh? To make people jealous? To keep a record? To encourage other people? What is the point? To shock people? To try to do what me and Tucker Max do? To try to be above it? What? What is it? That's what I don't get. There is nothing remotely of substance there that anyone can take away, and if I have one piece of advice for these girls, it's if you don't even know why you're writing it, no one will care enough to figure it out for you.

I spend my life on my computer. I spent the last year popping Zannies and having shit left on my windshield and explaining it on first dates and then NOT getting second dates and dealing with the crazy cookbook lady from Alan Colmes' show, giving everything I have to make this blog work, and it's because I love what I do. It's because I couldn't imagine not having this voice or sharing these stories or being honest with people about the life I've lead and the things I've experienced. It's not a crock of shit I'm selling here - it's honesty. It's shit a lot of people think but most are too fucking embarrassed to admit. It's stories so many people go through, and it's a piece of me that means more than you can ever know. It's figuring out my life as it's happening and full on admitting hey, sometimes I fuck up when it comes to sex or love or putting the condom on backwards. I fuck up! And I can still laugh about it after.

So when I see girls, who are probably in college and want to be the next Tucker Max or fucking, Karen Owen, putting this shit on the internet for no solid purpose, I can't give props. I can't salute it. I would love to, I would love to say "hey now, here are some other like minded ladies", but I can't with this one. There is such an element of personality lacking in that blog, at least in the first few posts, that I felt like I was reading a Cinemax soft core porn script. There is no heart in that, and honestly, if you're gonna write about dirty, raunchy, funny, sex, you have to have heart somewhere in there.

I refuse to commend a bad carbon copy of what I do. It's not jealousy or bitterness, it's not me being old news or feeling outdated. I'm sure if the girls read this, they'll probably write something snarky about me and that's cool - who hasn't at this point? All I'm saying is if you're going to sell sex this way, you gotta be real. You have to have personality and by fuck you have to have a God damn sense of humor. To me, there's no humor in that blog - there's a whole lot of desperation that they are attempting to play off as bravado.

I remember the first proposal I ever wrote for my book last year. And I remember working so hard to make it what publishers would want. And every publisher I submitted to came back with the same response:

"I wanted it to be funny, but it just felt sad to me".

Why did it feel sad? Because I tried to be something I wasn't. I tried to be Tucker Max, I tried to be poignant while at the same time trying to act like I didn't really give a shit and I was all badass and thinking with my vagina.

It wreaked of desperation and denial. And publishers saw it. There was no honesty in my original manuscript or my original proposal. It was all sex sex sex sex fucking sex drinking puking fuck sex sex sex blowjobs sex. And I mean, while the blog and book still are 87% that shit, there's also a little bit of love. And friendship. And heartbreak. And life.

And that's when I changed shit up. That's when I said fuck it, I'll put it all out there because while I love sex and fucking and banging and getting naked and laughing about it afterward, sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it's not so funny. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it's not about the sex but about the friendships or the feelings after or the pregnancy fear or the "Tyler wasn't his name but I called him that the whole time we fucked my bad." Sometimes the sex is the novelty of the actual interesting part of the whole thing. And by acting like none of that existed, by just writing about the actual act of fucking, it made me look like I never knew what I was really doing. It made it seem like I was just another clueless airhead who fucked so guys liked her but denied that fact. And that's how these girls come off. Sad.

You're gonna sing the praises of being a lacrosstitute, be my guest. Hell, the University of Maryland basically paid me to be an official one (holler, world's greatest manager 2005). But figure out that the reason people will ever care about what you have to say about your own sex life, is because you care too.

Take a backseat ladies, while being 25 feels mighty old, the perspective I have from here is far greater than the self-importance and denial you're putting out right now. Take it from someone who has been there, and is still there. It's not about the sex all the time, even when it's all about the sex.

And I'm Still Single HOW?

Ahhh, what a lovely face to wake up to on a Monday morning, right? Don't worry, you can thank me later.

As I mentioned last Thursday, queen of the gold diggers and Tiger Woods #1 sidepiece, Rachel Uchitel, apparently convinced someone to marry her. Again. For a third time (because she was engaged once and then married later). How is it this woman can get three fucking wedding proposals, and I can't get a guy to offer to buy me a THIRD FUCKING BEER?

Then again, part of me thinks the quality of men she was lusting after wasn't really in my ball park of dude's I'd bang, let alone dude's I'd bang for the rest of my life. Though I don't like saying anything bad about her first fiance because he died in 9/11 and that's just not shit you rag on, regardless. Even I'm not that heartless, so I'll leave that assumption alone.

Anyway, back to the fuckery at hand. So this bitch, who mind you had to give back all the millions of settlement money she swindled from Tiger Wood's camp to not talk about bumping uglies with the dude who looks like he sells Dell at Best Buy, got married to a guy 10 years her junior who used to play football at Penn State.

....crickets.....

I mean, I counted NCAA lax as kind of a good jersey chasing deal, but you go from like, the most well known golfer in the world to a dude whose claim to fame is.... Penn State football? The only people who like Penn State football are people who go to Penn State. And what the fuck is a Nittany Lion?

Anyway, Rachel and this dude Matt Hahn, got hitched in Vegas at the Little White Chapel, where, Uchitel gushed "everyone from Demi Moore and Bruce Willis to Britney Spears got married". Because who doesn't want to put their eternal love up to the standards of marriage fidelity and loyalty of Bruce Willis, Demi Moore and Britney Spears?

The pair have been dating since March, bitch wore a hideous orange gown that really highlighted her fake tan, and now I have a feeling we'll be hearing about a "no prenup" situation in a few months. Apparently this dude's ex fuck buddy came out on some cheating website to talk about how much he sucked as a human being, because he was supposed to get her tutors or something for school, and then he didn't and apparently when she asked him why he was being such a dick he said "did you think I was going to marry you? I play football for Penn State".

For all the dbags I have fucked in my life, I have never been so humiliated by having a guy try to tell me I was not worthy of his concern or wedding ring because he "played football at Penn State". Like, who is this guy and can I fucking chuck shit at his head?

I mean, you know my feeling on Uchitel. I think she was fucked up post 9/11 and went looking for recovery in all the wrong married arms. I think she is way delusional and all that fake tan has fucking seeped way deep into her hair extensions. I think she's selfish and I think she's a fame whore and I think karma is a bitch. There are few things I wouldn't do in life with an athlete (understatement of the year), and fuck a married one on the constant is one of them. I think this lady is way out of her mind and I think it's sad that she apparently has no one to pull her back in to some sort of reality situation.

Bitch, you couldn't even keep the 10 million dollars you hustled because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut for like, 7 seconds. If all of society is going to hate you, at least figure out how to keep the god damn money!

I just think this bitch went after 2 dudes who were married, she's due for a little karma. I mean, I know people fall in and out of love and get divorced and shit. But when dude isn't getting divorced, how do you keep that shit up? If anyone, ANYONE knows how hard it is to find a normal dude within a 500 mile perimeter, it's Stef Williams. I know, okay, read the last post, 3:1 girl to guy ratio where I live. I have a better chance of getting picked to speak at an Abstinence Only convention than meeting a normal, single, relationship-viable dude. And yet even I don't fuck the married ones. I have no sympathy for a chick who has done it at least twice in her life. Back off bitch, seriously! It's called Match.com, TRY IT SOME TIME.

This dude is 26. He ain't in it for the long haul, and when the fame and money run out, he's peacing the fuck out. I'd put money on it.

Uchitel gives jersey chasers a bad name in the sense that she is all over the fucking map. I've been there, done shit, and you gotta have a bit of self awareness that she just doesn't possess. There is so much shit she could have done in the last few years to like, better herself and her public image, and she's done nothing but fuck it up even more. She bothers me. Her hair bothers me. And the fact that she is now married to a guy who brags about once playing football at Penn State seems fitting to me.

Over under on the divorce? I give it 7 months.

Shoutouts

A little shout out to one of my favorite loyal readers, Heather, for the lovely e-mail she sent me over the weekend. Love that girl to bits, she has been following my batshit ramblings from day one and even when I don't follow through with my "I'll post at 5" promises, she still encourages me to get back to writing, reminding me that at least a few people like my stories :).

So thanks Heather, for being the consummate loyal reader every aspiring writer needs in their lives.

Strong Island Girl

So I'm home on Long Island for the night celebrating my mom's birthday and hanging with my sister and brother-in-law, prepping them for the hilarity that will be October 20th. I love love love being in the city, and being home is kind of weird now because our house is on the market and the room I lived in for like, 25 years no longer exists, but it's still so good to be on Long Island in the fall, watching baseball. And in honor of me being a lame ass nostalgic fuck, here is my Long Island song of the day. Enjoy, it's awesome and I've loved it since I was 16. It's one song you hear at every typical Long Island bar (Mulcahey's anyone?) and every typical Long Island wedding.

Hitting (on) a lot of dudes

My buddies over at Sportsgrid brought two things to my attention with this article today: 1.) this website Reddit, apparently I'm behind the times and 2.) this kid in college who has so much pressure on his shoulders right now, and it ain't from the shoulder pads.

Here's my fucked up summary and analysis.

Reddit.com has a section call "IAmA", where "interesting" people can post about what they do and other people can ask questions and get answers about it. No, I will not be posting "IAmAJerseyChaser" or "IAmaCrazyPerson" or "IAmNickSchommer'sBiggestFan". Maybe. I don't know.

But anyway, a guy posted on the site "I am a closeted gay NCAA D1 football player". And the page lit up.

As long as no one asked him any type of question that could lead to his identity being discovered, he was open to all questions. Some asked him about football, about dealing with the noise at away games and what position he plays (OL).

But when people started asking him about the sexuality sitch, he got honest, and while I don't totally agree with his answers, I also get them.

Apparently, he has a "good shot" at being drafted into the NFL. Good for him. And apparently, the only two people who know he is gay? His best friend and his therapist. He also lived majority of his life in denial/closeted completely because he didn't think his friends and family would accept and love him if he came out. And he isn't ready to make that kind of life changing decision just yet.

Let's break this part down for a hot sec. I am very happy that he took the very small step of not only admitting it to himself, but accepting it. My best friend Karl tried to be straight for like, ever. And then he'd get a hot chick home with him and be all like "I have to study" or "she kisses weird" and we'd be like....yep, gay. But he finally figured out that there was no changing it, no rewiring it, no praying it away. He was gay and it was totally cool. And it took him a while to navigate how to tell all of us. His friends, his parents, he told his sister when we were drunk in a car one night and she was driving us home from the bar (thanks, Car). It wasn't like an all at once experience for him. But he gradually got there and now all his friends know, his parents know (his mom is getting better with is every day, and she is involved in his dating life now and asks him questions and gives him advice, whether he asks for it or not like a mom does). We all love him. But he did it in his own time. Keep in mind, this NCAA guy is probably, max, 22, youngest 18. It's a tough spot, but at least he is out to SOMEBODY other than himself, small as it may be.

Next, tragic that he thinks his friends and family won't still love him. Leads me to believe he's southern, leads me to believe the family is uber Christian, leads me to believe it's going to be hard for him. Which fucking sucks. It'd be like me not loving my child (HA, my child) if my kid had blonde hair. Or green eyes. Or a freckle on her cheek. How do you not love your child when you know them, raised them, and hey, they just want two tuxes instead of a tux and gown at a wedding? I feel so bad for this dude and I wish I could give him a hug. I do. And then hit his family if they are in anyway the type of people who would make him feel like his coming out was a mistake or a shame.

Next, he had this to say:

"One part of me feels like I should take advantage of the opportunity I have and come out publicly. The other part of me feels like an ass because I don’t want to just yet.

If I were to come out publicly, there would be so much good that can come out of it. I think one of the biggest things that it can do (which is the reason I feel like a dick for not coming out publicly) is help others out that are in a similar situation. I could use the platform of college football to make the voice of the LGBT community heard as well as help take down gay stereotypes.

But then again, I do not feel mentally ready for all this. I’ve just learned in the past few months how to accept and love myself. Which is why I feel like a dick. If I heard a story about a gay college football player coming out to his team and community, etc. It would make my struggles so much easier seeing that there is someone I can identify with."

He gets it, which is what's most important. He gets the impact it would have, he gets how important he could be in the life of a young gay kid, particularly one who loves sports. He gets the impact it could have probably on the country if he stood up and played well and represented his school well and got drafted as a gay dude. I appreciate that he gets it. I just wish he'd fucking do it.

So many kids need a guy like this for a role model. Gay OR straight. Kids need to grow up seeing that athletes that are talented and good are gay too. That it IS normal, that being gay won't stop someone from being an awesome player. And it breaks my heart that this kid has such an opportunity at hand to do something so amazing and he's hesitant.

On the flip side, he's a kid. And like he said, he just started loving himself. He needs to find solid ground before he can be a poster child, and that I get. If he's seeing a therapist, and he is worried about his family situation, that's a lot to take on. And I can't say I'd push him. I agree that everyone needs to come out in their own good time. But I just wish that people got "in their own good time" means soon. Enjoy life. Don't hide shit for other people's sake. All I keep thinking about is if all the athletes I ever knew/dated/banged/thought about banging/attempted to bang weren't "out" heteros. Like, if they didn't fuck around, date, love, bang. How much of their awesomeness would have changed? How much of their psyche and ability and drive and personality wouldn't exist, on or off the field? Sexuality is a huge part of everyone's daily routine. Even in sports. I can't imagine being an athlete and hiding it. Possibly because I've never MET an athlete who hides it.

It breaks my heart that this kid - who received more than 1,000 comments on this thread - feels like he has to hide a huge part of himself to be accepted, respected, and valued. If he is playing D1 ball and there's a possibility that he might be drafted, he's obviously put in a ton of hard work to get to that point. He deserves to be able to say "this is who I am, this is who I'm dating, this is who I'm going to Disneyworld with if I win a Super Bowl in the next five years". The culture of sports breeds a lot of good shit, but it also breeds a lot of fear about sexuality, or even perceived sexuality. But I think with duds like Sean Avery and the It Gets Better Project involving teams and players, there's way more acceptance of the gay athlete in clubhouses than there was 10, 15 years ago. And my biggest hope for this kid is that eventually, he finds the courage to be happy with all he's achieved. Really happy. With someone he belongs with that has a dinky. And with himself.

However, I only have five words of warning for him, if and when he comes out publicly...

Nick Schomer is Mine Bitch.

Sidenote, trying to find a caption picture by Googleing "football player in jock strap" was not a good idea while I was working at the kitchen table with my mother. She's probably like "wow Stef needs to really get laid if she's looking up athlete themed porn right in front of me". Good times.