Chasing the Jersey

On some idle Monday...

2012-01-09T14:58:00.004-05:00

It's been a while. I don't even know how to pick it back up like 3 months haven't passed. I don't know how to keep writing knowing this is probably just a passing moment of necessity where you know you've worn out the conversation with your friends and family, and as a writer, the only thing I know to do to self comfort is write. When I'm writing about things, it's like... all the pain or hurt channels out. I don't know if that makes sense. But the point is, I had a little time in between shifts and I guess I just needed to write. In the famous words, don't call it a comeback. I just didn't know where else to go.

I could get into the last three months. I could explain the guy, the situations, the confusion, love, hope, potential, tears, "break ups", fights, trips.... but I won't. It got to a point where the whole situation was so fucking retarded I was embarrassed even telling my friends when they asked. And maybe that was the problem. So much got backed up, I didn't ever get to hash it out with anyone but him, which always turned into a screaming match.

It goes deeper than just the guy. The guy is a big part of it - the catalyst, the tipping point, the straw that broke the back, all that. But I realized last night the frustration is so much deeper.

I think those of you who have read the blog know a couple things. One, I'm an open book. I don't hide a lot. Even my biggest flaws. I'm not ashamed of who I am. And I enjoy analyzing things, including my own behavior. I like looking back on something I did 2 years ago and figuring out why or what frame of mine I was in. For me, it's fascinating.

This guy made me question everything. In the beginning, in a lot of good ways. But recently, I feel like I've been like... not defending myself, because he wasn't necessarily attacking me, but like...judging? I don't know.

So I started thinking about decisions I've made since I was 16 (when my dad died). Things I've done, reasons behind it. I'm not saint. I think about ulterior motives, I've had selfish reasons and shady businesses I acquired through decisions I made. I'm not perfect. But in truth, I've loved my life. Even with all the bad decisions. Sometimes yes, I wish I was the person who worried about jobs and money like other people, instead of guys. I worry about relationships like my mother worries about her mortgage. That's just me. But despite all that... I think to high school, to driving up to Boston and getting my heart broken, rocking sweatpants every day, picking Maryland, leaving, falling for an asshole who threw beer bottles at me, lax, love, baseball, life, and everything that's come since. Fuck dude, it's been a ride. And I look back, and no, I can't explain why I decided to do certain things. Some things, I don't want to admit why. Some things I keep to myself, the reasons why I made decisions because they are things I don't want other people to know. But most of it, fuck, I just went along for the ride and rolled the dice and I ended up okay.

This boy has made me question all of it. Who I am, why I am that way. I used to be so sure of myself in most parts. A little off on the dating, terrible at math, but in my heart I believed that the person I was, was a good one. A smart one. One who had been through enough shit - much of which was self inflicted - to at 25 have a good sense of self. The blog, for me, was a huge indication of that. Not because the blog was SOOOO me - I think everyone on here knows I'm not a huge slut or whore, that some shit is played up and you say things to make people laugh. But because the blog and the stories to me were something I honestly believed in and was proud of in my own right, and it took that confidence to sit through a year of "fuck you you slut" emails, notes, messages, phone calls, interviews, rejections. I HAD to know who I was because every time I got a nasty e-mail or message, I had to know myself well enough to know the insults weren't true. I know who I am, I know my deepest shadiest habits and motives and just because every part of me doesn't work like a well oiled machine, in the most ideal sense, doesn't mean it doesn't work. And that I've come to accept. And love.

And now he doesn't want me. Fine. He ended things. Fine. But the last fight, the last argument.... you all know I'm a Pisces. I'm mutable, changeable, I squeeze into any situation and I enjoy playing off of the person I'm with. I enjoy letting their personality kind of become mine. I've always accepted that about myself. Doesn't mean I don't have a personality of my own - that just IS my personality - the ability to put myself and adjust myself into basically anything (make a sexual innuendo if you like ha). And this last fight, its like I have this hole in my chest. Not because I doubt myself, but because the feeling of having someone I care(d) so much about, who I thought really understood me, didn't accept that. Didn't want that. Didn't believe that someone could be happy and fulfilled and stable and capable of being worthy of a relationship with that kind of personality.

It's a weird catch 22. I say I am mutable, changeable, easy to adapt. That's who I am. If I met a guy who wanted me to go to church with him and it was important to him, if I loved him, I'd do it. If I met a guy and he played hockey and we lived in New York and he got traded to Calgary, I'd move, and I'd do it, because I'd want to do that for someone I love. I was gonna move to DC. Move to Vancouver. I gave up half my senior year for Ivy lacrosse. I wanted to change and do all those things. I can change certain things about myself without hesitation because the happiness it brings me is more important to me than maintaining little nuances about myself that in the grand scheme don't matter. But the thing I can't change - is the fact that that's who I am. Despite being so good at adapting, I can't make myself a person who sticks to certain guns, never waivers on decisions, never considers other people in decisions she makes for herself, lives in the black and the white, never the gray.

This guy, he asked me to make decisions independent of other people. Told me I'd never be happy until I did. And the frustration I feel at his inability to understand why and how that is impossible for me is what's killing me. My whole personality depends on others. It always has. Maybe it isn't a good way to be, I don't know, but that's who I've been my whole life and it's worked just fine and I am happy. I wait for the green light, follow other's lead, ask before I choose. I want to know what the answers and all the information before I choose, and I like seeing the cards other people play. We're dating and you want me to be exclusive, ask me and I will be. You don't want to be exclusive? I won't be. I make decisions on situations I'm in with other people, based on other people. My happiness lies in the knowledge of what other people are thinking and feeling. Maybe it's the journalist in me, the person who loves to interview and ask questions. I ask so I know, and I know so I can move forward with that knowledge.

Especially in relationships. When I'm in one, when I make decisions, the other half of me will be a factor. My own happiness isn't dependent on just my OWN being, self, ideas thoughts and opinions, it's dependent on a multitude of factors including the other half of my relationship. Maybe it means I won't ever be in control, but maybe that's what makes life worth it - not having the control and still managing to find and hold onto those moments in the dark. You leave it up to other factors, and you never know if you'll see a happy day again. But then you do and then you appreciate it even more.

This guy, he's different. He focuses on things that to me, mean nothing. Fidelity, love, compromise, inherent goodness, interest, that's what matters to me. To him? It's the why's. The why I chose to do things, the reasoning, the self sufficiency. Roots vs leaves, as he says. And listening to him, it hurts. It makes me doubt myself when I know in my heart I know who I am. And I am happy being who I am. The decisions I've made, and for whatever reasons I've made them, I don't regret them and I am happy with how they have all been worked out, reasoned, whether it made sense or not. This dude, he wants what I call a free bird. A hippie type chick who doesn't need definitions, titles, commitment or encouragement. A roll of the dice that he will just get lucky that the girl he's with will want all the same things he wants and never have to say a word. For me, that's not the case and never will be. I compromise. I work for love.

The sad thing is, being as mutable as I am, I accept difference. Hey, fuck it dude, agree to disagree, everyone has their shit. I don't love him (hard word to say right now) because of how he works out a decision or because he is so self aware (which for many reasons I don't even believe), but because he made me laugh, smile, feel special. Because when I was with him, I felt...lucky. Privileged. Those couple months before things got bad, I felt like I got to see something no one else had. And I was learning something new every day. But him? He wants something I know I can't give him and I don't know if any girl ever can. Complete security, the ability to know someone's motives inside and out, stability that will NEVER waiver, someone who doesn't need to ask about exclusivity or feelings. That's not me. I will never promise I won't hurt a guy, say mean things, be needy sometimes and crave obvious affection. The only thing I can promise and be completely sure of it if I love you, I love you, and if I'm in it, I'm in it. And that wasn't enough for him.

I loved him. I did. There's nothing I wouldn't do, no one I wouldn't have been for him. But he just wanted me to come as is, not have to like, ask. And that's not who I am. Doesn't mean I couldn't do it just as well as a girl who came as is - I just needed someone to say that's what should be done. And he didn't want to do that. I miss him. He's gone, and I feel like a small part of me is too. He was so different in my life and I guess the last three weeks have been so bad, it's like (and this is so gay) when you see something brilliant and amazing - a sunset or a star. And you spend so much time trying to find it again. The first 2.5 months, they were amazing. And then they went to shit and I just couldn't find it again. And now life is altered. And I know I have to start that rough part of letting go, moving on, resorting back life before he ever existed, forgetting the inside jokes and habits, not texting....but it just sucks. For the longest time I thought he not only got me but accepted me as is, and now it's like...the person who got me, he's just not there anymore. And it's such a shitty, shitty loss. I fought like crazy to be in his life and at the end of the day, what I had to offer just wasn't enough and I had to call it a day. There is nothing worse than giving up on something you want so terribly. And I wanted him. And giving up is like a kick in the stomach. But I can't be someone I'm not. And if who I was wasn't enough, the things I gave offer provided weren't important to him.... I can't force him to take them. I know who I am. I just wish he believed me and trusted that.

So that's the scoop. I found a boy, I fell in love, I thought it was different (and it was) and it didn't work out. Heart broken, life changed. And I guess it's easy to figure out my little heart is still breaking in the back of my bar while I slap on a smile and serve the beer and try not to think about the things that made me happy in the last three months. The simple truth is I just wanted to love him and I just wanted that to be enough. It wasn't. And the hurt is doubled because it's not just that he didn't want me, it's that he made me question myself when I know who I am. I'm not questioning because I think there's a reason to doubt, I'm questioning because the person I love is. And that wasn't how it was supposed to be.

That's all kids. Time to get back to work, wipe the tears from my eyes after writing this and get back to work. But thanks for the momentary ear. I know it' not really explanatory and it's not really worthy of a blog post. But it hurts and for the first time in 3 months, I felt like I had no one else to explain the hurt to. I'm hurting kids. Not in a DC way. Not in an ex laxer way. In a "if I just pushed a little harder, I'd have something amazing, but I'm worn out" way. I feel like I'm giving up on something that I once had more faith in than anything. I'm scared. But the hurt is killing me and right now, I gotta go serve beers and hurt in my own way. Without him.

Take it breezy kids.

This is Letting Go

2011-11-13T01:30:00.004-05:00

After a year of blogging about everything from bad sex to pregnancy scares, Kim Kardashian and my disdain for Jenn Sterger and Rachel Uchitel, where I am right now is really hard to describe. And it’s taken me a little bit of time to figure out how to explain it. Hence, the MIAness of the last two weeks or so. But this is what I've come up with, so I hope it works.

There are people who will never, ever understand why I started this blog. And I mean, there are loads of reasons. I wanted the book to get press attention from publishers, I wanted to do some freelance articles for other sites, I wanted to establish without a doubt my voice and writing style, I wanted to prove I could go toe to toe with the boys. But mostly, it was because I wanted to tell a story. I know that sounds ridiculously lame and cliché, but it’s actually true. I wanted to put the last seven, eight years of my life down somewhere that I could look back over in in one lump sum. Understand it all as one giant piece of life threaded together by a few main themes. My love of athletes and sports, obviously being the main one. But my inability to understand why certain relationships didn’t work out, or why someone stopped loving me, or why someone couldn’t START loving me, that’s in there too. Why I’ve made the choices I’ve made, whether they were for love or sex or because of being completely intoxicated. Somehow, it was easier to absorb the last couple of years by having it all written out in front of me in one big story, as opposed to broken up into years or relationships, cycles or moments. Here it was in one big collective…thing. Where I could look back and see the connections, the habits, the repeat mistakes, and even yes, a little bit of growth and maturity. (Considering I still prank call people, that growth and maturity is limited ha).

And I wasn’t lying when I said I did it for other people as well. I always look back to my time dating my ex minor leaguer and I think about all the hardships I went through on that one. The lifestyle, the injuries, the constant ETA to the majors, the distance, Spring Training, and finally the release, and at 20…jesus, it was a lot to take on as a girlfriend. My friends were figuring out what they were wearing to their boyfriend’s Sigma Nu formal and I was booking flights to everywhere in the country on the off shot this was would be the night he’d pitch a sick game and get a call up. I wish I had something like my blog back then. I wish I had that feeling of “thank God I’m not the only one” where I could read about other girls going through some of the same shit I experienced. I wish there was a little unity that could come from someone other than the random girls who filtered through the other guys on the team’s beds, or the asshole girlfriends and wives who thought they were better because they had a rock on their hand. If anything, I hope the blog and book have made women (and men) understand hey, shit happens. We’ve all hooked up with assholes, we’ve all made mistakes. We’ve all had painful sex, we’ve all had a pregnancy scare, we’ve all questioned our relationships, and we’ve all had our hearts broken. How we deal with all of that shit will probably always be different, but I guess I just hope that no one ever thinks they’re the only one who is dealing with distance or is afraid they are being cheated on. Shit happens and knowing someone else in the world not only has been there, but survived it to a point she’s willing to admit it all happened, might help some people. And I really just hope someone found a little solidarity in the blog.

With all that being said, there is shit I question every day with the existence of this God damn thing. I mean, I think it’s safe to say this blog has put a bit of a chastity belt on my dating life. This is never an easy thing to explain to a guy, and sometimes I get scared that all the shit I would have to offer as a girlfriend won’t overcome the fact that he can Google search me and find out I once had really awesome rough sex in some shady ass hotel in France with a really hot soccer player. Or that I hooked up with a dude who has a puppet fetish. It’s a tough sell, kids. But I don’t regret it. In relationships, you gotta take the good with the bad. I’m not perfect, and I thankfully never will be (because seriously what fun would that be?). I have flaws and bad habits and shit people won’t always like about me. I just gotta keep my fingers crossed that the good shit I have working in my favor will be enough for someone at some point. And that I’m smart enough to learn to curb the little habits that aren’t so good, for me and everyone else around me, as I go along.

But I’m not putting the blog on hold/hiatus in hopes of finding a husband. In fact, the guy that kind of got me thinking about the situation is a guy I probably have no future with. Someone who is very far away, who exists really just as a name in my cell phone. But for almost two months, he has been part of every single day, in some way or another. And he has become important to me. I care about him. I care about his opinions. And to be honest, he is the first guy in a very long time that I have opened up to. DC Alvin (who I spoke to this week, ironically enough) was the first guy in three years who got my guard down, yes. But this kid, it’s not just the guard he has down. He’s holding a big chunk of me right now that no one else ever really gets to see. The good and the bad. And I guess the reality is, while who I am on the blog is a big part of my life, it’s not always exactly who I really am. A lot of it is who I try to be in order to deal with all the bullshit I’ve willingly put myself through over guys. The hard ass, (honey badger) don’t give a shit bitch who likes being single and fucking around with random athletes and not worrying about feelings or love or cuddling after sex. And yeah, there’s a part of me that is totally like that. But I feel like that persona has become a crutch, a cover to ignore the dating downfalls in my life. To sugar coat the shittiness of a guy screwing me but dating someone else. Or a guy being so into it for a week, and then bailing. It’s been my own defense mechanism of self-preservation.

The reality is, as much as I love that person, and she makes me laugh so fucking hard sometimes, and she has saved me from countless major heartbreaks and meltdowns that are typical of a Pisces asshole like myself…the reality is right now I’m not sure if that’s who I want to keep being. Because while being that hard ass who doesn’t cuddle and doesn’t care if you call and hooks up with other dudes while the one she really likes is somewhere else can be fun….there’s something scary and amazing about being the little spoon. About accepting the fact that you’re a pushover who will fly three thousand miles to cuddle or to watch a movie. There’s something good about letting your guard down and the possibility that someone might really fucking hurt you, because that means someone might be worth the hurt. And for the longest time I thought it was so brave to be the girl who didn’t give a shit, the “female Tucker Max”, the one who never had feelings and didn’t care about sex or romance or love. But what I’ve come to figure out is I think it takes a lot more bravery to be open to those things – falling in love, caring, holding out for someone - because the risk of getting hurt or rejected or broken hearted is a pretty big one, and I've been scared shitless of that. Because when it’s just sex, you never really take it personally. For all the guys I’ve fooled around it, barely a handful have ever really mattered. And so when they stop calling, stop texting, get a girlfriend, move on, I never sit there and think “oh, I must have been really bad at sex so they don’t want to see me again”. I never take it as a personal blow. But there’s this huge risk with letting someone in and letting them see all the stupid little shit that makes you who you are. The way you laugh, or the way you look at religion, or how many times you’ve been in love, or what it is that attracts you to certain people. You’re favorite color and number, the scariest moment of your life. Those little intricacies that make you who you are every single day. Because when someone you let in like that rejects you, doesn’t want you, chooses someone else…that’s when it’s personal. And for the longest time I never wanted to sit there and say, “why didn’t he want me?”. So I opted to never show those things to anyone. I played the personality of the blog and while there was never a relationship or anything of serious substance, I never got hurt.

But now I’ve let someone in. And I don’t even know why, because the whole situation has been anything but standard or normal. It’s not a relationship, it’s not dating, it’s different than friendship, it’s just….awesome. It’s just there, it exists, as what I have no idea. And while I run the risk right now of in a week, a month, three months, wishing I had kept my guard up, let him keep thinking I was a bad ass bitch who would be all “get off me I have morning breath”, wishing I chose local hockey instead, right now I’ve realized being me – flaws and all – has been a million times easier. Who I am when it comes to him is someone I’ve been actively avoiding for almost three years, because I’ve been scared. And I think the blog has been running a contradiction in his mind of who I really am. I am not choosing him over the blog – in fact, that’s not a choice. Like I said, this isn’t a guy I’m dating, I probably never will. I’m choosing to be the person I am around him over the person I am on the blog, because I feel like that’s who I really want to be right now, whether he sticks around or not, regardless of the risks. At least for now. Maybe it’s going to come back and bite me in the ass, maybe I’m going to come crawling back to the blog in a month when he moves on to some blonde model from LA and my novelty wears off and I’m once again heartbroken, jaded, and ready to bang a lot of athletes and curse a lot while telling the story. But I’d be lying if I said right now it wasn’t a priority for me to show him that he means a lot in my life in the weirdest way, and that he has given me something really awesome – the confidence to give in to certain truths about myself that I’ve been trying for so long to ignore. That whatever this is – penpals, friends, mobile friends, acquaintances, cross country burger enjoyers…it’s been something I liked having around. It’s something I still look forward to every day. It's new and different and something I haven't really ever done. And the hope of keeping that around, even if just for a little while longer, in whatever facet possible, is enough to get me to man up and say, “this is who I want to be right now”. I want him to know where he fits in in all this. That’s it’s not all about him, but just that he maybe gave me the push I needed to figure it out on my own, and that having him around has made it easier to figure out.

I don’t know what my next move is, part of me is thinking screenplay, part of me is thinking fiction, part of me is thinking resumes and Sports Illustrated and interning. But I have a good feeling that I will figure it out as I go along. That it’s time to try something new and live a little bit more dangerously in terms of opening myself up to different kinds of stories. Maybe ones that hurt or make me cry, but also ones that make me smile and feel like a total fucking lame moron. Hopefully ones that don’t involve puppets.

My e-mail will still be open. I still will be on Twitter (God I hate myself for saying that outloud), And on Facebook. I’ll still be available to anyone who wants to talk or bitch or share a story, ask questions or curse me the fuck out. Still gonna try and promote the book and talk about sex and relationships and sports and WAGS and jersey chasing wherever I can, be it TV, radio, or writing random columns. But right now I need a break from the blog and time for myself to screw around in a different way. To have a shot at happiness for once, not just a story I can laugh about after about how epic of a failure it was. As much as I love writing about my failures, I think I’m starting to look for a story that doesn’t end with me breaking away in a ridiculous walk of shame in a foreign country never to hear from the guy again. Maybe eventually I’ll be able to write about how despite all these embarrassing, long winded, curse filled stories of failed relationships, jersey chasing and heartbreaks, I survived and found something that made it all worthwhile.

Love you all to death.

Hopped off the plane at LAX, with a dream and my cardigan..

2011-10-25T02:01:00.004-04:00

I don't even know how to explain how tired I am. And I have to stay up until 6:30, which is starting to hurt.

I'll be in LA for the week doing fun things like not working, laying by a pool and not dealing with assholes from Barclays. I can't guarantee a lot of posts because I plan on being in a bathingsuit majority of the week, but I'll see what I can come up with.

Sweet Home College Park

2011-10-21T16:43:00.002-04:00

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

2011-10-21T01:56:00.001-04:00

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?

2011-10-21T00:31:00.003-04:00

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...

2011-10-20T17:07:00.004-04:00

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

2011-10-19T21:16:00.007-04:00

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.

Proving the Game Changer

2011-10-19T18:19:00.003-04:00

I was recently asked two questions. 1.) Do I choose the blog over having a relationship and 2.) is it worth it?

Today has been one of those days where I have been thinking loads about that answer.

The tough asshole side of me - the side I worked so hard the last 5 months to get back after my DC guy - would say yes and yes. The bitch in me that wants to be as good as the guys and not give a fuck, wants to say the blog is something I would give up for no one and that every missed opportunity that has come my way the last year has been worth it. That writing this chronicle of batshit crazy jersey chasing has been better than anything I could have imagined and that I wouldn't trade it for anyone.

The reality part of me knows that's only half true. And while I love coming off as a tough bitch who can keep up with the boys, I prefer to be my own fucked up self, even if it doesn't fit the bill of what I write about here. I'm not Tucker and I'm not Lady Gaga. I refuse to be in character all the time.

I look back over the last 11 months and I am so proud of it. That part is true. The writing, the humor, the wit, the fuckedupness, the fans, the readers, the opportunities, the book, the process. Standing up for myself and proving that you can have a good sex life, be proud of it and still be a good person...that's something that I think has been worth it. Finding something that made me happy with myself, that depended on no one else but me, for once in my life, yah, that was worth it. As a girl who has spent - and will probably continue to spend - her life being the pushover who was only ever happy if there was a guy in her life, knowing what it felt like to do something completely on my own and feel this awesome rush of "holy shit I can't believe how awesome this is" from it, was new and something no one will ever take away from me.

But I think to all the dates. To all the first kisses. To all the conversation and outfits I bought, to all the places in the city I tried. To all the beers, to all the walks of shame, to all the times my phone stopped buzzing. To all the odd looks when I explained it, and that feeling in the pit of my stomach when I knew the guy was going to go home and read it and probably not call me. And for that, for a second, I questioned, was it worth it?

For those ones, yes, it was. Because not one of those guys was ever so great that I thought about ending the blog. Not one of those guys made me consider deleting the blog and denying its very existence. I always chose the blog because despite sometimes wanting there to be a shot, I always knew those guys wouldn't work out. Gtown laxer, Amherst football guy, and even DC dude. I always hesitated because something told me the blog and the happiness it was bringing me was better than the feeling of just having "somebody" in my life.

And then I came eerily close with Alvin. Three days before he ended things, I wrote a "this is it" post. I thought I had found a reason to be normal, a reason to stop being this girl who fucked purely for the fun.

And then he ended things, and the blog went on hiatus for a completely different reason. And that's when I figured out it's going to take a really fucking amazing guy to put the kibash on this whole situation.

At the end of the day, I am not sad that I went with my gut and stood by the blog in the face of all those dates and what if's and "all americans" and "guys you wanna bring home to mom". I'm glad I saw the writing on the wall and I didn't back down or apologize for what this is, who I am, or what it's become. Not one of those guys, looking back, was worth it. And I am so glad I'm not with any of them.

Will there BE a guy who is worth it, is the big question. I believe there will. As much as I do love the blog, I'm not going to be 25 forever. I might be single, lol, but not 25. And somewhere down the line I hope there is a guy who is good enough to give me a reason to end the blog on my own terms. I will never, ever end the blog as an ultimatum. I will never choose a guy who puts me in a position where he will only be with me if the blog doesn't exist. That isn't a guy I want to be with and to me, not a guy worthy of shutting this whole thing down. Too much has gone into it for me to be threatened into ending it. If I survived potential lawsuits, mean comments, things being left on my car, and asshole emails, I will survive not having a guy like that in my life.

And that's what it comes down to. Finding a guy who allows me to make the choice myself, not a guy who makes me choose. Does that make sense? Probably not. But I want a guy who can replace the blog as something that makes me happy every day. Something I have to look forward to, something I have to fall back on. I need to be able to transition, and the truth of the matter is, not many guys are living up to the awesomeness of the blog.

It doesn't mean that one won't though. It doesn't mean that I would ever pass up something I knew could be a game changer. It just means that he has to be worth changing up the game. It's not about looks or whether he plays, it's not about money or whether or not he he is blonde even. It's about just matching up to the level of awesomeness that I think a guy should be playing at when it comes to me and a relationship. And if I can prove that that guy is different from all the rest by ending the blog for him, not adding him to it, then he'll ha have proven to be the guy that will make that the easiest choice I'll ever make.

"Tell him"

2011-10-17T09:32:00.002-04:00

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.

2011-10-13T21:16:00.001-04:00

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

2011-10-13T19:40:00.004-04:00

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?

2011-10-10T09:54:00.005-04:00

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

2011-10-10T09:48:00.002-04:00

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.

Holy Flake

2011-10-10T09:15:00.005-04:00

Ok, so obviously 5PM Thursday meant 9AM Monday in Stef time. Sorry bitches, I got side tracked with some stuff (writing and rewriting hate mail to Alex Rodriguez) and then I was lazy over the weekend. My apologies, but I'm here now and what better way to start your work week than me being miserable that I am apparently the only person in NYC who doesn't have off today! Cranky Stef always gives the best virtual bitch face. Sidenote, chicken is not supposed to be blue. I'd like to know what these deli dudes put in my soup this morning.

Let's start with things that are good. For one, you fuckers all better watch the show on October 20th, 9PM on CMT. I wouldn't encourage you to watch if it wasn't going to be embarrassing in an absolutely hilarious way. It will be, I promise, and unless they edit me to be completely different, if you like the blog and the book, you will like seeing me in action in the middle of Alabama.

Next up. So I met a guy. Sort of. We've been chatting, a lot. And yes, he's an athlete. Baseball. Hot stuff. No, he is not my future contributor, who is currently still kicking ass in playoffs, unlike my New York Yankees (I can't even speak of the tragedy of Jorge Posada's retirement). He is a different baseballer met through Facebook stalking, mutual friends and my show all combined. And yes, he's very very cute. He actually reminds me very much of my NHL guy, except smart, not Canadian, and I can understand him when he speaks. Also, his eyes don't look in different directions. So basically he is nothing like my NHLer, I don't know where that came from.

You fuckers know me. I jump into situations fast and usually get burned (not in an STD way, in a heart break way). DC Alvin (god help me with this name) was a perfect example. And like Alvin, this guy is "different". Not different in a weird creepy way, different in a "not a dbag athlete who fucks a lot of chicks because he can" way. He's smart. And interesting. And he asks questions and while I don't think he's read the blog, he knows it exists and it hasn't stopped him from talking to me.

So what's the issue? Baseball, obv. He ain't a Yankee and he ain't a Met (thank Jeebus on that one). He ain't in the tristate area and the off season is even worse. And while most normal girls take shit slow and don't think further ahead than a day in advance, obviously I'm planning for the next apocalypse of falling for a dude a la DC asshole and thinking way in advance to prevent the second coming of epic failure. Like, how much would it cost me to go see him twice a month? How do I factor that into my December schedule of tourist hell? Do I want to even consider the possibility, slim as it may be at the moment, of ever stepping foot back into the life of the baseball WAG? At 25, is that where I want to be in life? Chasing the sport all over again, except this time on the MLB level? Eeek, fuck I don't know.

Again, I'm getting way ahead of myself. And this is where my batshit side comes shining through. Because I over analyze so much and try so hard to prep for every possible scenario. Especially when something is putting me in lame smilely moods on a Monday morning of 14 hours of beer slinging in heels. It's been a while since that mood has been present, and I mean we all remember the crisis ofStef's depression summer 2011. I don't want that to happen agains so I'm putting way too much thought into everything instead of just like, feeling it out and seeing what ends up happening. But I like the guy, even though he is blonde and I'm not normally into blondes. Can you blame me for being a little heart weary after the last 4 months of "let's listen to Rolling in the Deep 98 times again"?

I dunno. Lots to consider and it would probably be nice if I made these decisions and thought about this shit after I hang with him in 2 weeks. Oh, forgot to mention that I'll be in LA October 25-28th, so if any of you kids are out around there, keep me posted for potential beers.

I will keep you guys in the loop as shit goes on. I don't (for once) want to get like, too chatty about the situation because I like the situation and I guess sometimes a little privacy helps. But it's still the same old shit and I wonder if I just haven't learned any lessons yet. And as my mother noted, "can't you meet someone who lives within a five state radius?"

No. Apparently I haven't learned my lesson yet. And no, according to a recent article in New York Mag, the upper east side's girl to guy ratio is 3:1. REALLY ENCOURAGING RIGHT? But maybe this one will be different. And even if it's not, he's really fucking fun to talk to and look at, so I can't knock the idea just yet. Even if I'm getting flash backs of cleaning up dip spit in a watermelon rhine. Awesome.

Because this is a good idea...

2011-10-06T09:08:00.002-04:00

Rachel Uchitel got married. I'm at work and actually doing something productive at the moment, but the second I get home tonight at 5 I will be writing a very lengthy, and more than likely snarky post on this, along with a good personal story about some college days glory and I'm contemplating doing a semi-post about a new boy who has been arguing his way in, and he is indeed an athlete...

But until then I leave you with my "it's my Friday because I have off tomorrow" tune (and yes, it's a good, cheeseball "I met a boy so I'm in a great mood" tune, deal with it:

Strong Island Girl

2011-10-04T18:07:00.003-04:00

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

2011-10-04T17:12:00.005-04:00

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.

A hotdog with a bun

2011-10-04T12:48:00.003-04:00

All I kept thinking with this post title was that stupid movie with Mandy Moore, Because I Said So. But it fits and I'm tired and lazy and still examining my, as my friend Dan put it, "Glamour Shots by Deb" CMT pics, so whatever, you've dealt with less original blog titles before. Fuck off.

A long time ago, probably back in April, I got an e-mail about whether most athletes I've banged around the block have been circumcised or uncircumcised (cut or uncut from here on out because I have to respell circumcised four times every time I type it and my spellcheck's getting horny.) I opted not to post about it because at the time, I had never been with a dude with an uncut dick. So how could I determine the difference/have an opinion? To be honest, I had never even known what an uncut one looked like. I had to Google it (erased MY history that day).

But now, thanks to two certain athletes, DC Alvin being one of them, I can safely make an opinionated post about them! Why there's an exclamation point there I have no idea, it's mildly terrifying actually, not exciting.

Anyway, the first time I witnessed this fucking phenomenon was earlier this year with DC Alvin. Fooling around, things are growing great, totally into it, great body, I.......don't know what to do with this.

I literally sat up and put my hands on my knees and looked like he had just given me an advanced calc pop quiz that I didn't have a calculator for. Like, I've seen a lot of penises in my life but it was something I just couldn't jump into (or on for that matter). How does it work? Where does it go? Where is it now? Does that shit peel off? Is it supposed to look like that? Is it supposed to feel like that? I DON'T KNOW. I need a hug.

I still don't get uncut dicks. One, I don't get why you wouldn't. I mean, I know when you have a kid you like, don't really think about how hot his penis is gonna be when he's old enough to bang, or how traumatized his girlfriend might be if there's this whole like, slinky-like layer of skin going on, but really, as someone who has now witnessed the difference, like... why? The Jews got it so right on this one, at least aesthetically.

I feel like guys are a little weirded out by it too. Like, in the locker room, you see a dude and there's this fucking protective shield around his cock, you have to wonder, does he know something I don't? I find it weird that for all the athlete peens I've seen, only two have been peekaboo peens. You'd think it was a greater percentage, right?

I don't know. All I know is I find them confusing. Like, there were a few days with Alvin (this name is killing my drive to ever have sex again, I think I need to change it) where we'd be in bed watching TV and I'd just be like "can I touch it?" just because it was so fucking fascinating. It's like a slinky. Slinky dick. And I was constantly worried I was gonna hurt it. Or like, peel it back. I've heard it feels better for guys because it makes it more sensative, and I didn't really notice a feeling on my end that was different than "please don't turn that way you'll be hitting my liver", so I guess I can't knock them. But I just find exposed and "HERE I AM" penises to be a bit more friendly.

He didn't really give me a warning either. Maybe he didn't think he needed to? I mean, most of my friends have seen them. I was apparently the lone bitch in NYC who had never seen a hooded penis. But like, I'm all into it, kissing his stomach, and then you stop and you're like I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO TOUCH IT with your hands up in surrender mode so as not to break anything. It's just jarring, that's all. It's fucking jarring.

As for whether I think most athletes are cut or uncut - from my thorough experience (oh wow I'm so slutty ha), I would go with the former. And I welcome the normality of that. Maybe it's not as fun to play with, maybe it's not as dramatic when it makes an appearance/graces me with its presence, but it's predictable, simple, nice, ready to go. If it comes down to it, I choose simplicity and to me, the whole "is he in or is he out" and "oh there it is" situation is just too much work for me.

But they are fun to play with at 2 in the afternoon, while you're watching formula 1 racing and not actually sleeping together. One point to uncut dudes for having more entertainment in their non sexual penis than in cut dude's non sexual penis.

My Alma Mater hates me

2011-10-04T12:44:00.002-04:00

No, that's a lie. Maryland could never hate me, I invested way too much money there and never got arrested. I can't say the same for about 40% of the student body, including most of the lacrosse and football team (I love you guys!).

However, I can't remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did reading this blog post from the Diamondback's Campus Drive:

Alum to Appear on Stupid Reality Show.

Do you know how long I tried to get the DBK to do an article about the blog and book? And I'm a God damn DBK alum! I'm glad that if the student body won't be introduced to me by way of my random, embarrassing sex stories, they'll get to know me through reality TV. Even fucking better.

Welcome Stalkers!

2011-10-02T23:36:00.009-04:00

So since they are officially releasing the cast today, I figure there might be a little more activity on the blog from new readers. And if you are in fact new to the blog, welcome! Don't be terrified, don't be embarrassed, that's my job. And since I haven't actually felt embarrassment since 2002, we're totally fine.

My more frequent readers know the drill. The blog is made up of personal stories about my own habits with athletes that are on the uh, sexual side of shit. There's also my commentary about public jersey chasers that can vary on the cranky side because those posts are usually written in the morning when I'm tried and hungry, but they are way entertaining. Here's a hint - if you like Jenn Sterger, you will not like me.

There are random posts about gays (nope, you're reading it correctly, gays not guys), my life, shit that's gone wrong, my experience writing the book, my relationships, things that confuse me (basically everything HTML related/uncircumcised penises topping that list), questions I answer, and a whole fuck load of posts that for all intent and purposes most people would consider way too much information. But this is my life and these are my stories and you can think I'm a slut or a whore or a cleat chaser or a laxtitute or satan's call girl (that was a good new one I got in the e-mail the other day, LOVE it), or you could think I'm cool and hip and with it and laid back and assume I'm constantly smoking weed (which I'm not surprisingly) because I write about the less glamorous parts of my life and really just have no shame and have a good time doing it. You can take the blog for what it is - a collection of random, sometimes overtired and rambling thoughts about sex sports and dating, or you can clutch your pearls, say a prayer to the imaginary man in the sky and get all riled up about how much sex I have and the passion with which I joke and write about it. It's your call. The blog is open for interpretation and I am certainly not asking anyone to love me. I'm simply asking you to read me and I think whether you end up loving my writing style or contemplating having me arrested, you'll be entertained.

On that note, my biggest piece of advice is to actually start reading the blog from the beginning. Why? Because I repeat a lot of information, continue stories and use a lot of nicknames as to cover my ass when it comes to talking about well known dudes who I've had the extreme pleasure (or in certain cases, displeasure, cough actor with the puppets, cough) of seeing naked. The blog is a lot like my book (buy it, seriously, it's funny I swear) - all the stories tie into one another and to really understand me and the blog, you gotta kind of start from the very beginning. So on that little sidebar on the right there where it says "blog archives", click on 2010 and start in November. And honestly, why did I just have to explain that? I'm computer illiterate and I know that. You shouldn't even be allowed to use a computer if you couldn't figure that shit out, seriously.

Another reason to start the blog at the beginning? Well, as most of my very awesome loyal followers know, I went through what some might construe as a mild case of the mental crazy sads over the summer. AKA I got dumped by a dude who used to play baseball for the San Fran Giants. And it was not exactly a shining point in my humor situation. And it took me a while to pick the blog back up again and remember how to be funny (in my opinion, maybe you think I suck I don't know) and like, laugh. So I don't want you to get like, 7 pages back on the blog and think you are reading Revolutionary Road or like, Confessions of a Depressed Person Off Her Meds. If you follow the blog from the beginning, you'll see the pattern of sometimes I am a normal human being who feels with her heart instead of her vagina and sometimes I love things and sometimes those things end up sucking ass and breaking up with me.

But then I end up banging another random hot athlete and I'm right back on the wagon.

So yes! Welcome new comers, fans of Sweet Home Alabama, fans of sex, fans of sports, fans of hating on other girls, fans of being judgemental, fans of banging people you might not remember in the morning, fans of learning about sex, fans of girls in their panties, fans of sexting, fans of the University of Maryland, fans of Landon Donovan (Larry!), fans of hating on Jenn Sterger! Whether you're here to try and figure out what my chances are of winning over Tribble Reese's heart (to my readers, I know that comment makes no sense to you and that's why I kind of love you guys), or you're here to judge me, or you're here to learn about rough sex, or you're here to try and guess what athletes I've banged and dated, welcome. Whatever the reason is you're reading this right now, it doesn't matter. I'm just happy you stopped by and hopefully by the time you leave, you will a.) be able to laugh about sex, b.) be a Yankees fan c.) hate Jenn Sterger d.) love gay people e.) know what a 4-6-3 double play is, f.) know exactly what it's like to hook up with hot athletes.

Also, in the spirit of shameless self promotion, if you like the tone of the blog, check out the book on Amazon. It's awesome, it's cheap, it's slutty, it's fun. It's me in electronic form, basically. Click the picture on the top right and help a bitch out, would you?

I am the anti-Snooki.

2011-10-01T03:41:00.009-04:00

Part of me wants to say "don't make fun of me", because honestly, it's not as bad as it sounds. But whatever, I'm prepped for it, I deserve it, it's reality TV and I am so ready for you fuckers to see me in actions ha. I was reeling from the worst broken heart I have had in three years, I lost like ten pounds, I hated being in my apartment, I was miserable and sad and I needed to get the fuck out of New York. So why not Alabama? Who the fuck wouldn't want to go to Alabama, I mean, COME ON. I needed a change and I needed something to get my mind off of DC asshole for a while.

Ugh, I know. But at the end of the day, 85% of my sex life is accessible through the internet in a non-porn fashion. Why not open up to the rest of the world, be a bitch on camera and get some laughs and have an experience while I'm at it? You fuckers know me, I'm shameless, I have nothing to hide. And now maybe you'll get to see a little bit of who I am on camera. Honestly, this was one of the coolest experiences I've ever had and I would do it a million times over again. You know me, I don't fuck around. I had a great time and met some ridiculously cool people believe it or not. It was what I needed and while it's pretty random, it was exactly what I needed to do to get back on track at home. I'm a million times better off having done it and so whatever, you wanna rag on me, go for it, but at least acknowledge that my skin looks AWESOME in that picture and it's not even photoshopped ha.

Trust me, I plan on chugging at least 4 bottles of wine on the night of the premier before I watch myself fall into the reality show rep of DOOM. But until then, get excited, and don't mock me too hard. I held my own and I was very proud of who I was on the show. Entirely, 100% the Stef Williams you guys have grown to either love, hate, resent, or feel sorry for ha.

Stefanie Williams on Sweet Home Alabama Season 2.

And Redsox nation weeps.

2011-09-29T00:49:00.006-04:00

Everyone rags on me because baseball is my favorite sport. I've dated a lot of guys who have actually hated baseball (clearly, CLEARLY that's the reason those relationships never worked out). "It's too slow, it's so boring." And for years, I have argued my position that baseball is full of random moments that are absolutely fucking crazy intense. Like, you think you're going to lose by 7 and come back to win by 1. One hit starts a rally. One homerun secures a win. It's probably the most unpredictable game that can go from 0 to 60 in a heartbeat. It's like being on drug. I think, I don't know, I've never done drugs. But this shit is BETTER than drugs! Coke has NOTHING on a Derek Jeter walkoff. NOTHING.

Tonight will go down as probably four of the best pre-playoff baseball in the history of baseball. And FUCK it was awesome watching it.

I'm not going to get into the NL or the collapse of the Braves, as much as I'm pumped they went down. My brain isn't on NL yet. Not until the Series.

Let me just say, I am a diehard Yankee fan. I love the Yankees more than I love most members of my immediate family. If I could be anything in life, it'd be a Yankee, a Yankee's wife, or a Victoria Secret model. So tonight was the first and, invisible magic man in the sky willing, last time I will ever cheer against the Yankees. But it was just a perfect storm of awesome revenge.

2004. Game 7. Bombs. Johnny Damon. The stupid fucking bloody sock. My first year in college, heart broken, so I went home and banged a guy on the Maryland soccer team to make myself feel better. I still remember. I still ache over that breakdown. I still hear it all the time from my Redsox friends. I still Google stalk the guy I fucked that night...

This might not negate it. No no, I'll be real. But it's up there. It's up there with 2003. With Boone. And that glorious home run that will probably (at the rate I'm going with the whole marriage thing) go down in history as one of the greatest things I have ever witnessed in person.

Back in January, NESN sent out a release: "The 2011 Redsox will challenge the 1927 Yankees for the title of Greatest Team in Major League Baseball History."

I'm not going to lie. I believed it. "Just call the series Phillies/Sox and save us all a shitty, disappointing season". I copped. I failed to have faith in our 200 million payroll. I mean, Carl Crawford? Fuck.

And now, as I lay in my bed in my Yankee boxers, I feel like this is 2003. Manny Ramirez and his fucking dreadlocks and wife beating ways, calling his dad from the dugout, talkin' all about how he's going to the World Series and part of Redsox history....

And then there was Boone. And then there was the greatest game I've ever seen.

And that was this whole thing. All the big talk about how amazing the Redsox were going to be. Best team ever. Challenging Yankee greats. Taking down Murderer's Row. Gehrig. Carl Crawford coming up against Lou Gehrig. This was the hype.

This was the phone call to dad.

And the Orioles/Rays were the Aaron Boone of 2011.

Fuck dude, it's shit like this that makes me want to date an athlete. I mean, if you can't be part of the team, how fucking awesome would it be to be the girlfriend/wife of a Ray tonight? Or fuck, even an Oriole? Like, that's some serious victory fucking right now. I'm jealous. I don't even think a lot of those guys are hot, and I'm still jealous. I'd bang the God damn baseball bat Evan Longoria used. Or makeout with Carl Crawford's mitt that he dropped that ball with.

And this is my love for baseball. Because anything can happen. And it always, always comes down to that last out. When it matters, baseball is one of the most knuckle cracking, nail biting, edge of your seat, sweating profusely, rally cap rocking games out there. Despite what all my retarded ex boyfriends think. Fuck them. They're fat. And Aaron Boone is still awesome, "hey girl" glory and all.

All hail to America's pastime.

Shoutouts

2011-09-28T02:23:00.001-04:00

Shout outs to my Syracuse lax rats and lacrossetitutes for following and taking the time to drop an e-mail and listening to me bitch even! I won't ever cheer for your lacrosse or basketball teams, but I do like the color orange and I appreciate laxtitutes from every campus ;)

The Perfect Guy

2011-09-28T01:14:00.003-04:00

If Jerry O'Connell had been a lacrosse player instead of a frat boy, I would marry him after this scene. Like, my perfect guy in a nutshell, just hand him a lacrosse stick or a catcher's mitt or a hockey stick.

PS, this is me aging myself even more after this week by pulling out a solid college horror sequel circa 1997.

Jerry O'Connell, I KNOW I LOVE YOU. (Skip to the .25 second mark).

The INT word...

2011-09-27T23:32:00.011-04:00

Whenever a guy blows me off or doesn't ask me out for a second date, my mother always tries to make me feel better by saying "he was probably just intimidated by you, Stef." Like, I guess because I was such a fucking nerdball as a child - too skinny, too sickly, big glasses, bad skin, no friends, etc. etc (super attractive) - my mom still doesn't want me to ever feel like people don't like me because of how I look or am. If she had the power, I would win Miss USA every year, without entering. Mary is the world's greatest ego boost because she thinks I'm like, sex personified. Which, in some way, I guess I kind of am. Fuck yeah. But when she pulls the intimidation card, it drives me nuts. My usual response as I'm storming away crying in PJs with a pint of Ben & Jerry in my hand is "I'M FIVE FOOT FOUR AND I WEIGH LIKE A HUNDRED POUNDS. I AM LESS INTIMIDATING THAT A TODDLER GOING THROUGH THE TERRIBLE TWOS". .

But I do get a lot of questions about how this whole blog has effected my dating life the last year. A lot of people assume one of two things. I either get laid, a lot, or guys avoid me like the plague.

It's kind of a mix of the two.

Look, there are a million other more terrible things I could tell a guy on a first date than "I run a blog about sex and sports and a lot of it is personal". I have AIDS, for one. I have herpes. I'm really a guy with a good tuck job. I'm not on the pill. I want babies immediately. I'm waiting until marriage to have sex. Like, a million worse things right?

It still isn't easy. For one, I date a lot of momma's boys. Boys who want the girl they can bring home to mom. And I don't know if many mothers are thrilled at the idea of their sons dating a girl who writes about sex for a living. I feel like that's a really weird conversation for Thanksgiving dinner. I can say that because it caused a feud at mine this year, so, I get it.

On the flip side, guys are also really big pussies. Like, when I date a guy, I make it a habit of knowing every girl he's ever, at the very least, dated, if not fucked, so I can be shallow and compare myself to them and figure out why I'm better. Whatever, this is crazy girl habit and we all do it, don't even act like you're above it you bitches. Guys on the other hand are total fucking wah wahs and want to pretend they are the only penis that's ever been near your bajina. They don't want have knowledge of anyone you fucked on the chance that the last dude you fucked is well known to be better. Better at sex, better at their job, better looking, whatever. Everyone makes women out to be the insecure psychopaths, but in the long run, men are beyond insecure. The amount of coddling and lying women do to make sure they feel on top of the world is fucking mind blowing.

So since the blog, there are times I've taken my mom's word at face value. Because there have been dudes who don't call me back, dudes who disappear. And without cause or reason. Believe it or not, I'm hotter in person. I'm not a bad looking girl and I'm way fun. I'm not the world's most hapless fucking date, I swear to God. I've been on a few dates in the last year. Had a mini relationship with Alvin in DC. Clearly, you fuckers know my life story and you;d clearly know if I found a penis to stick by. And since I'm not completely deformed (sans the small tits thing), and I'm not wholly retarded (unless I have more than 7 drinks), I chalk it up to the intimidation thing. And maybe this is my own ass coddling myself, but whatever, it's working, so hear me the fuck out.

I used to think guys would love an independent girl who wasn't a total fucking lush who didn't focus solely on makeup and gossip and The Vampire Diaries. Who liked sex and wasn't afraid of it. Who loves sports and liked going to games and drinking beer. I have always been one of the boys. But I think I'm starting to wonder if boys really do like the whispy, brain full of bullshit, damsel in distress type of girls.

I don't think boys like to be schooled in sports. However, I like schooling boys in sports, mainly because I like proving I can do something boys can. Same with the sex thing. I like putting myself on equal footing. Because I don't really give a shit about Vogue, or fashion, or shoes, or Angelina fucking Jolie. I don't pretend to not get something to seem "innocent". I don't cow down to boys because they're hot and I certainly don't pretend to be Betty fuckin Crocker housewife material.

With that said, two things to note: 1.) I'm not a lesbian and 2.) I'm still a really fucking good girlfriend when the opportunity presents itself. I'm still a pisces and at the end of the day, the main thing a pisces girl does well is show their significant other that they are needed and supported. And I look DAMN fuckin good in a pair of Victoria Secret panties. I can woo the parents, rock a cocktail dress, be good arm candy and make a guy feel awesome without making myself feel stupid.

I've come to terms with the fact that it's going to take a seriously strong guy to fill the spot DC dbag recently vacated. I've come to terms that one quick Google search might kill 999,999 opportunities with dudes because one of the first things that comes up is "Ten Things Sleeping with Professional Athletes has Taught Me as a Woman". And I'm well aware that the lacrosse community is TOTALLY catching on to my "want to grab beers?" meme, although if my recent cougar situation laxer is reading this, you I'm actually pretty interested in (which means message me back damn it!). Regardless, I know who I am, what I am, and what I've got to offer and that's keeping me going. That's what's kept me on the blog. I choose to do this, to put my name on it, to brag about it and brand it with everything I have. No one has a gun to my head and I would choose the blog a million times over a guy who would want me to lie about who I am and what I do and what I love. So yes, I do think it's intimidating. I do think I'm intimidating. Not because I think I'm so drop dead gorgeous (people need to see me without makeup, terrifying). Not because of anything physical, but because I'm a chick with half a brain and a wikipedia-like knowledge about sports. And because I have no problem joking about wanting sex. Or ACTUALLY wanting sex. Everyone tells me guys like the chase. Yeah? Well, I fucking hate running which is why I avoid the gym like the plague and if you want me to ignore your phone calls, don't fucking call me.

I love what I do and who I am. I love the blog and despite my mother's assurance that "you don't NEED to get married, Stef" making me nervous that Mary then thinks I'm NOT getting married, this is me and if you can't take what I've done in my life, you can't deal with me to begin with. I'm not here to coddle or lie or pretend your penis is the biggest I've ever seen, or you felt the best, or you look the best naked, or I've never tried that. I'm here to give what I got, and eventually some fucker will be lucky enough to have it. I'm proud of what I got. It's rare, it's not really what the hot girls give off these days, and I'm going to play it until I find a guy who can convince me why the Redsox deserve respect. Until I find a guy who intimidates the fuck out of me with the ability to convince me that dustin Pedroia is a good person. Welcome to my life. I love it, and I hope you fuckers do too.

Baseball Contributions part 1

2011-09-27T16:16:00.005-04:00

So since he won't get around to actually writing something up until post playoffs, my anonymous, really good, big named baseball player is going to contribute by way of Facebook message.

Question posed:

Alright, so here's a late night Friday question for you - Do you think it's easier dating now that you have a serious rep and a solid career and the "fame" aspect of baseball, or was it easier to date way back when you played in the minors and were an unknown in the media?

Baseball dude's response:

It's a little easier to maintain a serious relationship when one or both people have the money to buy plane tickets. It's a little harder to figure people out when you're in the spotlight. It's a little easier to pick up babes when you can afford nice clothes, make a good impression, have a rep, etc. It's a little harder to tough out any rough patches in a new relationship when you've got so much on the line at work all the time. Drama is draining, and let's face it, work pays the bills. How's that?

My response:

Babes?

This guy is relatively cool in the sense I feel like I could ask him some good, in depth shit on dating and relationships in the big leagues and I actually trust his answers, mainly because of the way he is in life (that I've read about and how he comes across in conversations). Like, he doesn't strike me as a bullshitter, and he certainly has nothing to gain by whatever he may say to me as, believe it or not, this isn't like a Stef fishing to fuck situation. I actually love his take on dating and women and groupies, and there are some other conversations that I'm hoping will be brought out when he does my "how not to be a jersey chaser" article. But I figured I'd give you guys a little bit of a pre-question beforehand.

I know it sucks that I can't say who it is, and trust me, I would LOVE to let the world know that I actually occasionally talk to dudes who are reputable and not just like, randoms ha, but I like the random conversation with him too much to blow it by outing him. I think he has a secret fascination with the blog and the humor/sex aspect of it so we have a fabulous balance of "what do you think" going on. I like it, and I don't want to fuck it up, even for the blog. But, I promise you promise you he is someone jersey chasers should take the advice from, as he is a big name in the MLB and yes, he's going to playoffs (again) this year. And he's pretty hot, I'll fuckin cop to it. And instead of posting his picture, please enjoy the picture of me and my friend Jen at a cold, rainy, shit day baseball game at Yankee Stadium earlier this summer. I know, that's no where near as good but it's the best I can do for now assholes. You're so god damn needy!

Jersey Chasing when the jersey is a child's XS.

2011-09-26T09:33:00.004-04:00

That title makes me sound like an avid participant on How to Catch a Predator, but it's not as bad as it sounds ha.

So recently, with the onslaught of "people you know" on Facebook, there have been numerous new athletes popping up from the trenches and I add them for multiple reasons. 1.) new athletes give me new material to work with, even if I'm not banging them. Buffers my HRotW lists, gives me insight into certain athletes habits, dating or otherwise, and also gives me an ability to find out if certain athletes are single. What, have you not read the whole fucking blog? Jesus, judgey judger. 2.) It gives me the ability to reach out to new athletes for info, be it something along the lines of my (hopeful and likely) baseball contributor, or some information on teammates I think are hot, etc. etc. 3.) It gives me the opportunity to introduce myself, suggest going for beers and possibly score a new story (admitting this probably just ruined those chances though ha).

I've always said Facebook has been one of the best tools I've had in all my jersey chasing glory. It's just a solid opportunity for me to get involved, and it's like a snowball effect. Once you have two or three guys on a team in your lists, others start getting recommended. And it's not that I want to bang every guy I can on a specific team (though my soccer situation of years past might actually call that statement into question, heh), but like I said, having the connections is always useful for someone like me, in all areas of life - work, fun, dating, fucking. You know, the norm.

Needless to say, I've added a LOT of lacrosse players in the last few months. Between Maryland's class of 2011, who I fondly refer to as my baby Terps (still so proud of you fuckers), and new guys popping up who are in the MLL, to different lacrosse programs like LXM pro and Lacrosse Playground (my buddies run both), it keeps me connected as I age and really can no longer claim the title of lacrosstitute like I used to. Fuck I'm old.

And speaking of old, I'm starting to wonder what the jersey chasing rules are regarding someone younger. I mean, if you ask Kim Kardashian, there are no rules. Both Reggie Bush and Kris Humphries are five years younger than her.

I have only ever liked one athlete that has been more than a year younger than me, and that was soccer kid (Brian Mitchell? Was that his name in my book? I don't even know, I go by nicknames still, I'm the worst author in the world). He was just about two years younger than me. Give or take. And at 23, which is what I was when he dicked me and ended up fucking a girl who looked like Stephanie Pratt because he couldn't get with my best friend (ah, memories), 21 is kind of weird. I mean, I didn't care at the time, but that's because I was so fuckin crazy obsessed with him I was too busy engraving our wedding invitations to really think about birthdays (not really true but kind of).

But now, Facebook is challenging me to be a cougar in training. A lacrosse player who legit just graduated from college in May (not Maryland though) popped up in my "people you might know/want to bang" thing on Facebook. And I checked his ass out, and he is WAY cute. Not hot, and my friend even called out a possible hair line sitch, but definitely my type of guy looks wise. In fact, Jock McFly even called it - he actually has a strong look of Soccer Kid. Creepy, non?

So here I am, trying to figure out a few things. One, where he graduated from is of course probably the only college with a solid lacrosse program where I don't have ONE FRIEND I can reach out to because I don't know one person who went there, let alone has gone there in the last two years. Two, he's 22. Like, that's a big fucking deal. Three years. Fresh out of college. And for guys, that's like "I'm not getting in a relationship for the next 8 years" time of your life. Fuck, Alvin, the DC dbag former SF giants guy, he was 30 and had graying hair I couldn't even lock that shit down.

So I approached in the only way I know how - absolutely no subtlety whatsoever. Sent a message, introduced myself, mentioned the blog and how I like to keep up with guys in the game, etc. etc. Also reached out to one of my baby terps who I think knows him and hit him up with a "hi I'm pulling a mrs. Robinson wanna help?" message.

Both have gone unanswered, though I know the latter has been traveling the last day so. I'm hoping it's not a "Stef is crazy" situation, particularly because I'll probably be seeing him at homecoming! Nice.

Anyway, I have NO idea if I'd have any sort of shot with this kid (emphasis on the kid, fuck). Which is throwing me off because if you haven't learned, rarely is there a dude in a uni that I don't think I can pull some strings with, somehow, someway. Like, I have more misguided confidence when it comes to athletes than anyone else I can think of. But this one is throwing me off because I feel like a total fucking creeper. Like an old lady cougar. And this shit is PISSING THE FUCK OUT OF ME. Even sending him a message, I was like "ew, I feel like a pedo".

But, in the grand scheme of things, he is way cute, way talented, just lined up a decent job and I'm trying to convince myself that age really isn't a factor here. My batshit crazy, straight forward aversion to subtlety might be. But my age? Am I really that far out of the game? I can still drink like a 20 year old. I still bang with the inhibitions of a college kid. I still work at a bar. COME ON, I'm not THAT old! I just need to find an angle that doesn't include like, MILF fantasies or Samantha Jone's inability to admit defeat in the age fucking factor.

I feel like a creeper. But is three years really that big of a deal? Especially when he's still eight inches taller than me? I don't know. But what I do know is the age thing is putting me in a position that I don't really know how to proceed, even though I want to make a move. Like, a legit "let's get beers" move.

Do I stick to the 25-31 year olds? Or do I make a move that could potentially embarrass my ass with a whole new generation of laxers?

Sidenote: This was me at 22. I don't know if I'd go back to the short hair, but I'd go back to the thinner face. Fuck. I'm old.

Full of the Tireds

2011-09-26T09:10:00.001-04:00

I used to not hate Mondays so much, because unlike the rest of the world, I didn't have to be at work 'til four. But now since my change of schedule, Mondays are not only early mornings but 14 hours days. AWFUL.

As I collect my thoughts and shake the tired from my small tits, here's a song for the Moooondays. It's lame but whatever, OneRepublic always puts out good music, bite me.

"Look, they're little footballs....laces out!"

2011-09-24T22:39:00.005-04:00

Nothing says a good Saturday like Jersey Chaser chocolate covered strawberries, compliments of Jock McFly. Awesomeness.

Blog Sidenotes

2011-09-24T18:34:00.004-04:00

As I watched the Terps get murdered by Temple, and am currently watching the Yankees go through way too much of their bullpen in a rout of the Boston Redsox, I got an e-mail about why I sidestep the blog sometimes and write about things completely offtopic. More often than not, the LGBT community.

Which works well because I've been wanting to write something about the recent repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. So it all ties in nicely.

I'll start by answering the question. I am extremely, extremely involved in sports and sex. That sounds weird, I don't know how you can be "involved" in sex. What I mean is, those two topics kind of dominate my life. Where ever I am, those things kind of fill up the void. And that's why I started the blog to begin with. First rule of thumb of writing is to write what you know. I know about and love sex and sports. It made sense to me.

However, just because the blog caters to mainly those two topics, doesn't mean I don't occasionally like to take out my frustration with other topics on here. I write. It's what I do. So when something bothers me, I try to write it out and get the problem out to the masses. And the whole LGBT issue in our country today is one of those topics that just drives me insane. The fact that it "is" a topic at all, drives me fucking nuts. So I write about it. Because while I'm not exactly a daily read for most people, I still like to think enough people read me that if there are any anti-LGBT peeps in my blogosphere, maybe my way of writing will appeal to the senses in terms of logic about that topic. AKA, me being a catty, fuck all bitch might have more pull than a PC article filled with bullet points about the LGBT community from some representative you've never heard of.

On that note, the long standing, discriminatory policy that was DADT was brought to a long needed halt this week. You know my take on the gays. I love 'em. My best friend in the whole world, gay man. So when people say he wouldn't be compatible for military service simply because he'd be Skyping with a dude instead of a lady, (not that Karl would ever join the military, let's be real here), is, excuse my French, fucking BULLSHIT.

All 25 NATO countries, outside of the US and Turkey, allow openly gay and lesbian peeps to rock the camo. I didn't see the US turning down the help of those countries in the last 10 years and 40 billion dollars worth of wars because they'd be working hand in hand with the 'mos. No army has ever been depleted because people refused to work with openly gay soldiers. No increase in man on man rapes have happened. No one has changed their military uniforms to pink camo. Shit is fine. And yet the US fear mongering right wing coocoos want you to believe that now that gays don't have to lie to serve their country, suddenly the war in Afghanistan is going to look oddly similar to porn you'd find on Gaybeef.com (don't go to the site, btw, if you don't want to see a lot of balls and penises). They want America to think that gays openly serving in the military is suddenly going to ruin our chances at winning this war. I hate to be the bearing of really fucking OBVIOUS NEWS, but the war has been going on for TEN GOD DAMN YEARS without gays out and we haven't really won anything. I'm pretty sure gays aren't the fucking problem here. And finally, what the teabagging loonies want you to believe, is this "social experiment" of treating everyone equally (something repubs know nothing about) is going to lead to the military having to reprimand every gay dude serving because of like, public fucking and anal fistings. I'm sorry, but despite what Rick "frothy mix" Santorum wants people to believe, it's not about sex. It's not about fisting. It's not about sexual activity or anal sex or blow jobs or military fetish porn. It's about life. It's about boyfriends and relationships and husbands and wives and girlfriends and partners and benefits and pictures and Skype calls and hugging and someone to come home to. I mean, unless every straight person in the military is simply straight because they publicly fuck members of the opposite sex? It's not about that. It's about having the ability to say "hey yeah, my boyfriend's doing great" or "hey, check out this awesome care package my boyfriend's second grade class sent us" or "that's a picture of my girlfriend" or "I can't wait to get off this plane and kiss my boyfriend for the first time in 6 months" or "I put my life on the line and died for my country and I want my legally recognized husband to receive my benefits". It's life. It's reality. It's not hot sweaty man bear sex. It's life.

The other night during a GOP debate, Rick Santorum answered a question via Skype from a soldier currently serving overseas who was for the first time this week allowed to admit on camera that he is gay.

Rick Santorum, as well as all the other GOP candidates present, allowed the audience to boo this man.

Then, Rick Santorum said he would revoke this man's right to serve his country proudly if he were president. He would force that man back into the camo coated closet. Why? Because "no unethical sexual behavior should be permitted in the military".

Really? So why don't we just recruited asexual people? Because gays aren't more likely to fuck on tour than straights. Being gay isn't synonymous with public acts of sex. Its orientation, not behavior. You can be straight and be a virgin. You can be gay and not fuck in public. I know it's hard for these assholes to understand, but their hypocrisy shows no bounds. So if a gay man is not involved in sexual behavior while he's serving, how can you say THAT'S the reason you want to reinstate DADT? Does admitting you have a boyfriend constitute fucking a man in the showers? Does Skyping with your girlfriend equate to scissoring with another female soldier in the mess hall? Sexual behavior is not the same as relationship behavior. So unless you tell the straight dude he can't talk about or TO his wife, this shit holds no water.

And that's just what it is. Stupid hypocrisy. Because while the military has discharged more than 13,000 arabic linguists in the last 10 years due to DADT, they have lowered their recruitment standards to a point where rapists, drug addicts and terrorists, yes, TERRORISTS, those who have made TERRORIST threats against the US, are permitted to serve in the military. Who would you rather have in your bunker? An educated gay dude who speaks fluent arabic and has an impeccable record, or a guy who was convicted of making terrorist threats?

Look, I'm not down with our government to begin with. I don't vote, because I think the whole process of government and elections and representatives is total bullshit. But listening to the "arguments' that favored DADT is like listening to a child try to argue about why they NEED that 700 bike. It's STUPID and PAINFUL and makes you want to DROWN THE KID IN A TOILET. Spoiled, self entitled assholes with no concept of reality screaming about something they don't need.

I don't do war. And I'm certainly not down with the whole situation going on in the Middle East. But I support our troops because they'e all doing shit I could never, and would never do. Because if I joined the military, our country would be invaded and conquered by China within 3 days, guaranteed. But the point is, how could anyone who is a republican, and more than likely is a pro-troops person, look a man in the eye and say "thanks very much for your service and putting your life on the line, but you don't deserve to be recognized, you're a pervert"? Exactly, exactly like Rick Santorum did this week. I don't see Rick Santorum bussing his ass to the worst place on earth with a gun. But he feels himself versed enough to be able to say being gay doesn't make someone capable of making that choice? Please.

I support LGBT rights because they are human rights. I write about the LGBT community because I am part of that community by way of my best friend. I support the repeal of DADT because it only inflicts good on the military and those who are in it. I write about it because it frustrates me and because I hate people who are mean in any way shape or form to Karl. And while Karl would rather shoot himself in the foot than every join the military, if he decided to tomorrow, I would want to do bodily harm to a fucker like Rick Santorum, who looks like the love child of Pee Wee Herman and a ventriloquist doll, said "you are too perverted to serve your country". Fuck these assholes. Ship them to Afghanistan and give them two group choices: Would you rather serve with a group of 7 gay men, who are all at the very least high school educated, with no criminal records, who speak fluent arabic and also include one bomb specialist, or a group of 7 straight "normal" men, 2 of whom have been charged with rape, one of whom has been charged with drug possession, two of whom are former coke addicts, another who was charged with shooting his ex wife, and another who once said "I am going to fill a car full of bombs and blow up the White House because I believe in fundamentalist Islam". Then get back to me, Rick.

Why do I stand so firmly for LGBT rights? Outside of the fact that Karl is gay and a huge part of my life, it's a bigger picture thing. A lot of Americans are desperately gripping to the Leave it to Beaver life. Everyone says the sexual revolution happened in the 60s, but it's still kind of a situation today. With me, I see it all the time. Everytime I get an e-mail or a comment calling me a slut or a whore. Everytime I do an interview and a crazy cookbook lady says my parents must be so ashamed of me. Every day a guy gets to do what I do and get paid for it. It's a matter of standing up to the "traditional" idea and realizing that the reality is better than the traditional. The reality is, I bang around a lot, have a good time, and don't bow down to the idea that women should keep their mouths shut about sex, less they be dubbed a whore. Gays don't bow down to the "stay in the closet or you're an outcast" mantra and it pisses people off. It's a big fight, going up against what's considered "normal" and "appropriate". It's tough trying to show people that what I do isn't "wrong" and what gay people feel isn't "unnatural". It's a tough sell, trying to fight against the majority and trying to change asshole's opinions that are based in stupidity, ignorance, fear, and self-loathing. I stand with the LGBT community because I think the whole "traditional values" bullshit has fucked up enough people's lives, ruined enough lives, hindered enough lives, that I don't want to sit back and say "I wasn't who I am because I wanted some random church lady in Kansas to like me". Fuck that shit. And fuck those people who think they're outlooks are so superior to mine or anyone else's. I live my life the damn well way I choose to. And like the LGBT community, I refuse to be told by assholes on a pulpit that I don't have the right to do that.

Near Future Baseball Contribution

2011-09-22T04:52:00.003-04:00

So after some random conversation, there's a strong possibility I might have like a "how to lose a guy in 10 days" type article for jersey chasers, compliments of a really, really, well known baseball playing contributor. Name and team won't be mentioned, but all I can say is it's going to be a post-playoff article because he will more than likely be in playoffs, and the dude is up there in rep with the likes of Brian Wilson, Cole Hamels and Josh Beckett (though it's none of those guys, scouts honor). He's got a super interesting take on the dating scene in sports and he's not your average asshole athlete which has been pretty interesting to talk to him about. I might have to work with him on the whole "humor" thing, but I'm looking forward to see what he comes up with. Apparently he's got some stellar first date nightmare stories as well, so I'm hoping to get some good blogs from him. I'll keep you guys posted as it comes around, but get excited! The blog might be getting some clout from some serious athletes. And who wouldn't want a "what not to do" for jersey chasing straight from the horse's mouth? I might keep this shit in my back pocket...

Update:

Oh god, if this materializes it's going to be SO good. I just got a great story from him and he ended it with "I fell asleep rocking in the fetal position that night". He might not even need help on the humor, this is going to be gold. Get excited, seriously, this is what I live for... sharing stupid dating stories with pro athletes. Sad, but true.

Hottie Roster of the Week

2011-09-22T02:26:00.006-04:00

God, I haven't done one of these in a WHILE...but with all that's going on, I figured I'd get back into it. Though if I had my choice Nick Schommer would probably just get every one I did, I guess I have to be a little bit more open to new possibilities. Not that I'm giving up on Nick. No no, Nick, darling...I'm following you on Twitter now, it's love kid. It's love.

Anyway, first up is one of my new hockey crushes. Dylan Reese. Kid is SO hot. And he went to Harvard. And when he gives interviews, he doesn't sound like he has a severe concussion. And he isn't Canadian. I mean, he's kind of perfect. He just turned 27 in August (creeper knowledge) was drafted in 2003 by the New York Rangers. He played, like I said, for Harvard and made his professional debut into the NH with the Phoenix Coyotes' AHL affiliate. He then signed to the Bluejackets minor affiliates, and finally the Islanders where he actually made it to the NHL (if you can't make it on the Islanders, you should quit hockey because I know 8 year olds who could play for the Islanders). His stats are that of someone who has had some injuries and been traded around, but I think he has potential. But part of me only thinks that because he is so hot, he should just be on the team because he's a banagable America, of which are extremely underrepresented in the NHL. Dylan, beers, I'm serious. I've already gone out with 2 psychos from Harvard sporting teams, I need something to balance that out.

Next up, I'm going home town love affair and picking Austin Romine. Austin is currently a New York Yankee! What's not to love about that? He'll be 23 in November (makes it less cradle robbing to say that than say he's 22) and he was drafted out of high school in 2007 by the Yanks. He has been listed as one of the top prospects, and dude almost missed his callups to the bigs because he was shopping at Walmart in Kentucky with his girlfriend while Girardi was trying to get him on the phone. I don't know how true this is, but all I keep thinking is maybe eventually he will show up on People of Wallmart. Also, boo on the fucking fact he has a girlfriend. My new best Twitter friend, Chuck Knoblauch, assured me he'd get me a number. CHUCK IS LYING. I'm sorry, it's way late and I'm kind of out of it and rambling. Anyway, he's really hot and he has a solid career ahead of him, if not with the Yankees than someone else. We have a solid lineup of catchers, however, I'd like to see if this kid can throw to second, because that's where our catchers are SORELY lacking. Anyway, here's Austin Romine.

Next, we're going lax nation. He may or may not kill me for this, but whatever, I'm nominating, as my mother knows him, "my buddy" Mitch Belisle. Mitch played for Cornell, and is originally from MD. He played professionally in Boston for a bit and now I think he's got something going on with Minnesota? I don't know, he told me this story but I think I was a couple beers in on this conversation and I don't really remember. Anyway, he's really fucking funny, and is kind of like a non-Jewish Andy Samberg. He rides his bike to work and my friends love him, and he's a hottie so yeah. Mitch gets the bid this week, and he may or may not stop talking to me after this. Also, he doesn't have Greg Brady hair currently like he does in this picture. I think that's something we should all be grateful for. (Mitch, don't hate me).

And finally, I'm going to change it up and give a lady athlete a spot in HRotW. Ladies can be hot too, and I think the entire world would agree that Hope Solo is better at looking pretty than she is blocking penalty kicks from Japanese women. WHAT? True story. Anyway, Hope is the goalie for the US women's national team and helped lead them to a spot in the WWC final this year against Japan. Bitch looks like a super model, and her hair stays perfect during games somehow. She played at the Universit of Washington, has played for a few clubs around the country, has been to two World Cups and the Olympics. She is a solid keeper and now she's on Dancing with the Stars. God help us all. Anyway, considering a lot of lady soccer players look like Stuart Holden (sorry Stu), bitch gives good rep to the hottie female athletes of the world.

I'd totally bang Sid right now

2011-09-22T00:02:00.003-04:00

A late night congrats to my New York Yankees, and especially Jorge Posada. 4o years old and he's still hitting clutch like it's no big deal. Also, I've always said he looks like Sid the sloth from Ice Age, so that's also super endearing.

I'd totally bang Jorge tonight if I could, but I think his wife is on it.

Congrats boys! Phil Hughes, this means we need to get beers before playoffs! I'm really fucking persistent, I'm just throwing it out there!

Nothing says "Hump Day"...

2011-09-21T16:22:00.003-04:00

...like a terrifying sketch of Tim Howard left on your desk at work. I got this in text form from my bestie today when she said "someone randomly left this on my desk, I thought you'd appreciate it". Obviously I appreciate it. Who wouldn't appreciate a 1970's comic book style sketch of the tan hi-liter also known as TIMMAY HO? Also, I think whoever drew this was unaware, like majority of people (myself included before I googled him a long time ago) that Tim is half black. This picture makes him look like an albino Native American. I'm just saying.

This reminds me of a fabulously inappropriate and kind of mean rhyme an English guy once told me: "Chim chimminey, chim chimminey, chim chim charoo. My name is Tim Howard and I say FUCK YOU."

Twitter Hilarity

2011-09-21T14:42:00.005-04:00

So I am avidly opposed to Twitter, even though I just signed up for it. I just don't get the point of it if you have Facebook statues. Nothing I do in the grand scheme of life is that interesting that the world needs to know about it in 140 words. However, I'm on there now, so it is what it is.

I get up this morning and my 9th grade heart almost died. CHUCK KNOBLAUCH IS FOLLOWING MY ASS ON TWITTER!

I had clippings of Chuck Knoblaugh from the Daily News on my wall in my bedroom at home for YEARS. I loved Chuck! Sure, he had that whole...beating his wife incident in 2009, but he was a four time all-star! And if Charlie Sheen can still get a standing ovation at his roast, fuck it, I can still admire the Chuck Knoblauch who knew the importance of arguing a fair ball call at first base while the runner rounded bases. It's about principle, damn it! He was like a skinny Roger Clemens with a little bit of Aaron Boone's pre"hey girl" flair to him.

Maybe this is a sign from the Twitter gods that Tweeting is a solid sure thing for me. Or, that I continue to have really weird taste in who I admire in the world of baseball. One or the other. Whatever, fuck off, I'm super stoked and I don't care. Now if only Jonathan Taylor Thomas would get on the band wagon, I might actually start to LIKE Twitter.

Love what you do

2011-09-21T03:51:00.007-04:00

So for a while, I've been working on a new fiction piece, figuring out what to do with this whole situation, and working at the bar. Among other...things. And the other night, someone asked me "what I do".

I get this question a lot, especially at work. Most of the guys who come into my bar assume I'm an actress, singer, performer, stripper, hooker. You know, the typical "I came to New York to be famous and I ended up paying my bills by way of tips" answer.

When I say I'm a writer on the side, they tend to not know how to respond. Because they know we have legit journalists who work at Sports Illustrated also working at my bar (true story, an editor no less and she's awesome). So I might not be a struggling idiot eating beans and trying to write the next vampire/human sex story for 12 year olds. I might be legit. And this helps, this possibility of being legit. Gives me more clout, even though I'm not really legit. Obviously, ha. Because you don't always get paid big money for big articles. So there is a reason I could be doing both - slinging beers in work shorts and writing about my experiences in bed. LITTLE DO THEY KNOW...

When I tell them about the blog and book, they REALLY don't know how to respond. Some think I'm joking. Some think I'm awesome. Some have no interest in talking to me whatsoever.

The other night, I had the President and CEO of The Chicago Blackhawks at one of my tables. We got to talking about sports, and partly because of the four espressos I had, I found my hands shaking and my whole attitude hyped up. Because we talked hockey. We talked about the Canucks and the Islanders' potential move, and playoffs and trades. We talked about my book and about what I went to school for. We talked about my love of sports, and he and his guest both seemed entirely impressed. They told me I should send a reel to a couple of stations, because they both thought I'd do very well with sports commentary. I proceeded to talk about my dream of one day overthrowing Kimberly Jones. They also threw me invites to games if I ever go to Chicago, and then I told them the story about my most epic bender that occurred in Chicago. Surprisingly, the invite wasn't revoked!

The point is, I remember when I first started this whole thing, I was worried. "I write about sex" was all I kept thinking, and I was nervous to admit that to people, especially guys I went out with, or guys in suits. I thought people would look down on me, think I was slutty, think I was uneducated. Rachel Uchitel was like my anti-self, because I just kept thinking eventually people are going to compare me to her and I'm going to get this shitty rep that's based off her stupidity, not my own. For a while, I struggled with the reality of what I really wanted to do and it sucked balls.

And then finally, I thought "what the fuck do I give a shit? I'm way happy".

And suddenly, I stopped caring and started realizing that while I'm not exactly solving the world economic problems or getting paid millions to share my life with you fucks, I still hold my own pretty well without the safety nets that the likes of Sarah Silverman and Chelsea Handler have. And I'm doing it pretty fucking well without any abortion jokes.

Now, I love talking about it. And I love having the ability to tell people about it at my bar. It's like in person PR shit. And sometimes, it works in my favor.

There is nothing I would rather do all day than talk to people about hockey, or lacrosse, or baseball, or injuries or trades or signing bonuses or mechanics or stats. I love being a girl who loves sports. I got so worked up by these two old ball men at my table because we were bullshitting about playoffs, and it's the dude WHO RUNS THE TEAM. It's like talking to Joe Torre about baseball. Or Bill Bellichik about football. The guy took a good 30 minutes out of his meal to chat with me and that made me feel like hey, I wasn't totally fucking up the conversation. Some girls get off on Bergdorf. I get off on hockey blather.

Clearly, I also love the sex aspect and I've totally come to appreciate my abilities here. Not my sexual abilities, though I have many of those in my own damn mind. But my ability to take to this poorly constructed website and tell some of my favorite stories to fuckers I have never met. Because in my own mind, they're good fuckin' stories. Literally.

So when people mock me, and they do, for being 25 and working in a bar, despite having a degree and once having aspirations to do the whole sports journalism thing, I look back over the last year, or even three years, and say fuck off. I love my life. I make just as much money as a lot of the assholes who slave across the street at Barclays for 10 hours a day, and I have a lot of fun doing what I do. My life is a balance of working to pay bills and doing something I love to do. Bullshitting with you fuckers on an almost daily basis. When shit hits the fan, or I'm in a mood, I have this whole open book to say whatever the fuck I want and get it off my chest. It's like free therapy and at the end of the day, it gives me a little bit thicker skin.

I used to feel shitty that I ended up in a bar. But honestly, these stories all started out in a bar, and got told over a beer or nine. I can't imagine starting this whole process anywhere else. I'd never be happy behind a desk, crunching numbers, buying someone else's lunch for them in ugly shoes and my hair pulled back. Fuck, would you trust me with millions of dollars?! I'm going with a no if you have 1/4 a brain on that one. Whether this shit ever goes big or whether it stays to my 250,000+ readers I have now, doesn't matter. I'm a sports nut through and through, and I write because it's the only thing I legitimately don't get bored of doing. I enjoy telling stories and my only hope is you guys like reading 'em. I do what I do, and on the side I hang out in a steak house and bullshit with my friends and serve Stella's and J dubbs black on the rocks to dudes, 70% of whom are assholes. But I come home at night and I get to come home to this, and for me, that's good. I don't hide shit. I don't pretend to be someone I'm not. I don't spend my life fighting to get a promotion or to get recognized or to get someone else's report finished so that oen day I can have a job I hate just as much but that pays more. I enjoy the fuck out of my life! And this whole situation has given me the ability to accept who I am, what I do, and embrace it.

From sixth to tenth grade, I kept journals. And when I was cleaning out my closet a few weeks before I moved in, I found one and went through it. And there's this whole really fucking lame entry about a boy I "loved" in 8th grade. And about how much better I felt about the situation after I wrote about it. And at the end it says, "maybe I want to be a writer when I grow up". I shit you not, I know that's some cliche Lifetime movie shit right there, but it's true. And that's what I've always wanted to do. I've always wanted to write, I've always loved to do it, and I finally found two topics that go well together that I can really shine with. After all the shit I've been through, seen, done, fucked, spooned with, why would I ever write about anything else? First rule of thumb, you write about what you know. I know sports, and I know sex, and I'm not going to change anytime soon. So this is what I have to offer.

Fuck, at this point I don't have a choice because it's book or bust because God knows I ain't getting hired at any law firms anytime soon with this Google track record of "FUCK". If you can't tell from the picture of the brunette retard in the middle up there, I like to have a good time, have some laughs and document the stupidity of the things I get myself into. So in the grand scheme of things, I landed on my feet. And I'm learning that that's a fair thing to be happy about.

Technical Difficulties

2011-09-21T00:52:00.004-04:00

So if you can't tell, I'm adjusting the page a bit to look less like a 4th grade Computer Science project and more like the reason I got a D- in Computer Science freshman year. Until I can get a person who actually knows what the fuck CSS is (clearly not me), I'll be playing around with it, and suggestions are most definitely welcome. I don't want to make anyone go blind here.

Update:

Alright, so as for now, welcome to the new blog! Different layout, same old sassy bitch bullshit. I'm also embarrassingly now a toolbag on Twitter, so if you'd like to catch up with me throughout the day when I'm doing really exciting things like grocery shopping, buying new shoes, picking out underwear or cooking pasta - you know, real cool shit - you can check me out on there. @StefWilliams25. Obviously the first person I followed was Nick Schommer. HI NICK.

Vagina double standards

2011-09-19T09:03:00.008-04:00

I don't even know where to begin with what my weekend was. As my friend Jock said, Saturday night was like a Stefon skit from Saturday Night live. Are you looking for a fun Saturday night? Well look no further than Diablo Royale Este (seriously, that's where we were). This place has EVERYTHING. Fainting chicks, lacrosse players with scottish accents, gay paramedics, fire trucks, ambulance rides for three, crackheads hiding under sheets, sock bandit victims from Goldman Sachs.

Needless to say, a short trip to the ER ensued and let me just say if you want a free fucking comedy show on a Saturday night, go sit in Beth Israel hospital at 3 in the morning. It was fun for the firs two hours, but then we realized my friend wasn't going to die and if she was, the people at Beth Israel were less concerned than I was and I'd probably have more of a shot saving her, so I took her home. But still, this was my weekend. This is why I rarely venture to the East Village. Shady shit happens. But this is what it looked like before the ER. Also, best line of the night goes to me. While sitting in the waiting room in the ER, some prep star walks in looking straight off the ferry from Nantucket. Floodsy khakis, button down, loafers, you know the drill. He looked like a total tool. He also looked like someone went Patrick Bateman on his face. He was there for stitches above his left eyes. Apparently, he claims he walked into a sign post while "staring at hot chicks in the street" (happens to me ALL the time!). To which I responded., "let's be real dude. Did the same guy who fucked up your face steal your socks too?"

Clearly my compassion for the sick and injured knows no bounds.

ANYWAY, while I'd love to go on about how I always end up with a serious FAIL story when I go out on the weekends, I'd like to move on to something more on target.

I've done a ton of posts about sexting in the last year. Clearly, Grady Sizemore is one of my most favorite people ever. I once had a guy send me a similar pic, but it included a Listerine bottle, not a coffee cup. I have since deleted it, as he turned out to be a dick (no pun intended), but I appreciated the effort.

I am all for sexting. This may one day come back to bite me in the ass, but considering I post enough shameless pics on this site on my own, and this blog in general has limited my ability to probably get a "normal" job in the near future, it's not my biggest concern in life. I have sent a fair amount of pics to boys in my lifetime. Like I said, what I can do with a 3MP camera is worth of a Pulitzer.

I also know that long distance relationships suck. Having been with enough athletes who were never less than 100 miles away from me at any given time, it's not like you can have sex whenever you want. You have to keep the relationship fun, intimate, sexy, when you can't be in the same bed naked together. Sexting saves a lot of relationships. It also ruins a lot of relationships if not done with the other half of the relationship lol. But let's skip that part for now..

Mind you, I'm not saying like, get tagged giving head to some random dude. Smart, sensible and not frighteningly graphic always seemed to work for me.

So when pictures surface and ruin lives, it bothers me. A lot. Especially because more often than not, it's women who get fucked (again, no pun intended) by photo leaks. Grady Sizemore had dick pics all over the internet. He still plays baseball (why, I have no idea). He didn't get fired or threatened, sued or suspended. Throw that same situation to a woman who works in an office, or in this case, for NASCAR, and you'd have a different story.

While I was down in Alabama, I met a girl named Paige. She is awesome. Down home, sweet as can be from South Carolina, really pretty, outgoing, cool, down to earth. She made my whole experience down there better because she was one of the "other side" girls who was just chill and down for bullshitting and laughing.

I found out Paige used to be a NASCAR Sprint Cup girl. She's also a model and she's a total hottie. She fit in with NASCAR very well (I actually mean that in a good way, not a beer belly, mullet, dirty wife beater with sweat stains way).

And then pictures from a few years ago surfaced. Nothing crazy. Nothing Rhianna didn't do, or ScarJo, or moi. Nothing graphic or horribly disgusting. Just some nudie pics she sent to her boyfriend at the time.

And then she got fired.

Needless to say, girl will land on her feet. She's gorgeous and cool and something else will pop up for her. But I just found it really dick that something she did, privately, came out and not even by her, and she was let go. I know there are like, image situations and what not. But she's still beautiful and cool and a good fit for what she was doing. Those pictures from years ago, had nothing to do with what she was doing or how she was representing NASCAR. Just like Grady Sizemore's pictures didn't represent Major League Baseball or, at the time, the Cleveland Indians. And if you think people who go and watch NASCAR haven't done the same shit, you're totally mistaken. It's the fucking south.

In getting to know Paige, I think I got more defensive because she's a hip girl with a good attitude. And a lot of people would go as far as to say "she made a mistake, she should have known better". No. A mistake is fucking adding an extra "0" while doing equity trading and losing UBS 2 billion dollars. That's a fucking mistake. Sharing shit with someone you're with, or hell even someone you just wanna bang, isn't a mistake. Being 18 and being proud of your body, not a mistake. Privately sending pictures to a dude you're dating, not a mistake. And I don't think Paige should be apologizing to ANYONE. Something she did in private, that neither hurt anyone or effected her ability to perform her duties at NASCAR, should have no bearing on this situation. It's NASCAR for Christ's sake, not the Supreme Court. They make the girls look like total hotties, tight outfits, makeup, hair, tits out. I mean, Paige is really smart and shit, but they aren't putting these girls in the winner's circle to discuss world fucking peace or the deficit ceiling. Paige is hot and what she chooses to do with her hotness (that sounds so weird but you know what I mean) shouldn't be totally dictated by the fucking rednecks at NASCAR. She's a grown ass woman.

I feel bad for her that pictures leaked, because I know not everyone is as forthright about sex and stuff as I am. She trusted that those would be kept private, and they weren't, and whoever leaked them is a total dbag. But I think she is a good chickie and doesn't deserve the slack she got for what happened. I also hope that if nothing else, next time she sends pics, if she does, she gets some collateral because one thing I have learned is you always need something to come back with. I've sent a lot of pics in my time, but trust me when I say I've gotten many back in return. In fact, I have a password protected file on my computer that is basically a whole lot of torso and pubic hair. Why? Because I would know exactly who leaked which pic if pics ever leaked, and I have WAY less to lose than most of these guys do. I would never leak them just for shits and giggles. But you always have to have something in your corner too.

At the end of the day, I'm not like, advocating for people to send naked pics of themselves to other people, because I think a lot of people are dumb and don't get the potential consequences of it. But I also think that the consequences of sending pics shouldn't be what they generally are, especially for women. It's so easy to label a girl a slut, a whore, a "cum dumpster" when something remotely sexual is brought to light about the girl's personal life. Everything else the girl has ever done or accomplished can be wiped off the fucking map with one picture of an ass or a left tit in a mirror reflection. And I just think that's retarded. If it came out that Mother Theresa was sending text pictures of herself to Jesus, would it negate all the good shit she did in her life? If pictures of Angelina Jolie surfaced that were originally sent to Brad Pitt, would it change the 4 billion babies she's adopted or the 3rd world countries she's bought and tried to rebuild? I'm going with a no. People have sex. People have naked bodies. People have feelings and like to be intimate. And I would hope that if my boss found out I have sex a lot (my boss knows this actually), I would hope he wouldn't fire me just because of something that I do, along with 97% of the population. I hate going all bra burner on you, but women need to wake the fuck up and realize men get away with everything, while women get blamed for everything. If a man cheats, it's biology. If a man fucks 400 women, it's biology. If a man sends naked pictures, it's funny. It's a man's world and women need to start saying "fuck you". Nude pictures doesn't make a person less capable of performing a job. Fucking 100 guys, doesn't make a person less capable of performing a job. Owning 12 vibrators, doesn't make a person less capable of doing a job. Having a sex drive, enjoying sex, doesn't make someone a slut or less capable of performing a God damn job. And the fact that men get away with this shit way more often than women do says a lot about the control of the situation. Me, Paige and Karen Owen need to work on a whole "women can have a good time too you assholes" forum. I might have to invest in this.

Friday "dancing in my underwear" Tune:

2011-09-16T17:12:00.004-04:00

I'm contemplating posting a picture to accompany this because it's mildly entertaining when I dance in my underwear in my room. But even if I don't, enjoy your Friday with this catchy little tune of upbeat chick music bliss as I go get drunk with my roommates.

Also, you should check out the real version on iTunes. Live, it just doesn't have the same bounce to it but the actual studio version is awesome.

Update:

By popular demand (probably by dudes who are real short of porn material), me dancing in my underwear. Whatever, like you fuckers have never seen me in my underwear. Nothing new. Happy weekend.

She had a Carrie Bradshaw moment

2011-09-16T15:27:00.011-04:00

I never, ever watch reality tv (this will come back to hypocritically bite me in the ass in a month). My sister could live off of it. I swear to god, sometimes I think her best friends are Real Housewives, Teen Moms, Basketball Wives and COPS. She knows more about people she's never met than she does half of her immediate family. But for me, I just can't. It's too scripted, too bullshit, too embarrassing. Like, that kind of embarrassing when it hurts too much to watch someone else make a complete jackass of themselves that you cringe and cover your eyes. Trainwrecks, basically.

So needless to say, when Kristin Cavallari (I don't know the difference between her, LC or the Heidi Montag creature) got engaged to Jay Cutler, I thought two things. One, that girl was in a Teddy Geiger video when I was in college. Two, Jay Cutler has made WAY more money in the last five years that I originally thought. 2006 there was a 6 year 40 mil contract, 2009 there were negotiations reaching 30 mil. Dude is worth more bank (in NFL instability terms anyway) than I initially realized.

He is not attractive to me in the least bit. He looks like a rodeo guy to me. Like, someone who has been hit in the face multiple fucking times with bulls horns. Lost teeth, like 10 broken noses, a few mutilated cheek bones, a gash across the forehead that made his hairline fucked up. He doesn't strike me as the Tom Brady type of QB. Maybe he has a bangin' personality or a huge monster cock though, I don't know. But I also find her to be less than attractive. Like, she's hot in guy terms, easily fuckable, but doesn't she just look like a huge bitch? Like, popular asshole who says "oh my god" a lot and is about as deep as the puddle of rice water I just spilled on my kitchen floor while making lunch.

I guess in whatever fucked up way they went together, and after 8 months of dating they decided to get engaged. Because that's always a great idea.

Anyway, I don't know much about this whole situation. I should probably do a little more research about like, their relationship in general or what they liked about each other (why do I feel like this might be a tough one to answer?), but they got engaged in April, and by July, they were done.

Rumor has it Jay did the dumping. At first, I didn't buy it because I'm shallow and when ugly dudes dump hot chicks, I always think "is this fucker crazy? Or is he gay?". Because I'm shallow, again. And while I don't particularly like this girl, looks wise she is far superior to him. But then I also realized he has a shit ton of money, probably has a kind of good body, is tall, and is a quarterback. In the grand scheme of things, he has a better selection of bitches than she does straight men in C-list Hollywood.

To add insult to injury. Kristin went and pulled a Sex and the City movie homage and did a shoot for Life & Style in a bunch of wedding gowns and gave an interview about her engagement and whatnot. A few days later, Jay reportedly dumped her ass and no one apparently thought to inform the editors at Life & Style about this whole situation. Or, if they did, the editors said "fuck you, this is tabloid gold".

The issue came out, with bitch all dressed up and no wedding to be had. Part of me feels bad for her, because breakups blow, but seriously, who hasn't watched Sex and the City? The writing was on the wall with this one.

Now rumor has it that Jay wants Kristin back. I never understood the going back to an ex thing. I have never, ever gone back to an ex, either one I dumped or one I've been dumped by. To be fair, none that I've ever been dumped by has come crawling back, much to my own dismay. My ex lacrosse player once asked me if I would "cheat on my next boyfriend" with him, but I don't think that counts as wanting me back, I think it counts as him being a douschenozzle. Just saying. So Id on't understand this whole break up and get back together thing. Do you really want to marry someone who fucking embarrassed the fuck out of you by allowing you to go pose in fake wedded bliss and then dumping your ass? I mean, are you telling me Jay Cutler didn't know that she was doing this shoot? That, oh I don't know, maybe he shouldn't have waited the four fucking days after she tried on like 10 gowns in front of a camera to end things? Please. I know all about men putting off the breakup because they are too chicken shit to do it. DC dbag was like that. Too much of a pussy to come out and say it, so he just hid like a hooded penis little bitch until I called him out on it. Sorry, but no. I don't particularly like this chick, but I also don't particularly like guys who don't care enough to prevent more hurt than necessary by being upfront at the right time. And I'm pretty sure the right time was before bitch put on a wedding dress for the paps.

Also, let me just say, that this photo editor should win an award for photoshopping. Cutler is almost unrecognizable in this picture, and something tells me it isn't just the lack of Beiber bangs that made him look not inbred.

Well Hung

2011-09-15T09:08:00.002-04:00

In the almost three years that I have worked at my bar, I have never come to work hung over. A big feat in one sense, because my hangovers are epic and usually debilitating. But then a not so big feat because I literally work 3 out of the 7 days of the week, so I just get drunk and hungover on my other days off.

Today, I popped my hungover at work cherry. I have already drank 2 vitamin waters and had a bacon egg and cheese (extra cheese, well done bacon, breakfast of non-puking champions). But I smell like stale booze (thanks to my hipster friend, he knows who he is) and I'm shaking like a fucking Chihuahua, so this will probably be a really fun, enjoyable day.

On that note, I have a few posts I want to get to, but it literally just took me like, 12 minutes to type two paragraphs, so I'm gonna go chill in the bathroom for a while until I actually have to start functioning here.

I hate my life.

I feel like this should be illegal or something. Where's Chris Hanson on this one?

2011-09-14T16:56:00.005-04:00

I remember watching Lizzie McGuire when I was in like... maybe 8th grade? I distinctly remember the episode where her and Miranda go to buy their first bras with Lizzie's mom.

I also remember coming home from my first semester in college and renting "A Cinderella Story" on OnDemand (don't judge me bitches).

And now, Hillary Duff is going to be someone's mom. Bitch was just buying her first training bra and singing about the rain like, yesterday, and now she's having a hockey baby. It's fucking terrifying. Not that she's having a baby. Well actually, yeah, that shit's scary as fuck too and I'm glad it's her and not me, I am to young for stretch marks and baby knee bloat. But the fact that Lizzie Fucking McGuire has gone from tween star to MOTHER. Where has my youth gone?!

I don't mind the Duffster too much. She and Mike Comrie are low key and basically the budget version of Carrie Underwood and Mike Fischer. Comrie is currently with Pitt, having signed a one year, $500k contract last year. But honestly, Duffster is like a one man Olsen twin organization. She has all those companies that you'd never think would generate money, like nail polish and kids clothes in Walmart and shit. She's got bank, and he's got the jersey. I hate admitting it, but I like them together and I'm happy for them. If Lizzie wants to embark on an adventure that includes fat gain, uncontrollable farting, morning sickness, stretch marks, sore tits, maternity clothes, titty leaking, and vagina tears, that's absolutely her right and I wish her the best. I don't do babies, but considering Duff spent a good portion of her childhood making a lot of little girls squeal with delight, I think she has a decent shot at raising a kid.

Congrats to Mike and Duffster!

Great Ideas from the Bench

2011-09-14T15:00:00.005-04:00

Recently, as the Yankees catch up to the Phillies record, I've started to hate them less. Not entirely, but less. Or maybe I just don't care as much at the moment because until playoffs and, magic man in the sky willing, the World Series, the only thing interesting about the Phil's is Cole Hamel's penis.

However, this gem came across my desk and I thought ohhh baseball players...how I love your attitudes toward fucking and celebrity.

Apparently, Phillie's outfielder John Mayberry Jr. (yeah, I didn't know him either), thinks that pinch-hitting in the 9th inning and playing in like, 140 games in 4 years, makes him a desirable baseball player, the likes of Derek Jeter. Also, he has just announced to the world he needs to send out for pussy.

Apparently, while watching Pirates of the Carribean 4: Johnny Depp Changed Has Legal Name to Jack Sparrow, Mayberry decided Antoinette Nikprelaj who played "the mermaid", was the right girl for him. At least he knew his place and didn't go for Penelope Cruz. That might take a few more, you know, millions, or home runs, or actual achievements, or the ability to pick up chicks without your manager...

So he gets in touch with his agent (who may or may not be considering retiring after his client decided to merge baseball agents and the millionaire matchmaker into one career category), and say "send this chick my limited highlight reels and set up a date".

So Mayberry's agent, who probably had to fucking take a few shots of Blackhouse before he moved from contract negotiation to panty style suggestions for a first date, sends Nikprelaj's agency a friendly little e-mail:

"I hate to even be sending you this e-mail and I'm quite embarrassed to say the least, but we have a young client on the Philadelphia Phillies who asked us if we knew any agents at Innovative Artists and could connect him to Antoinenne Nikprelaj. I know you are not a dating or set-up service, but John Maryberry Jr. (Phillies OF) would love to meet Antoinette or invite her to a baseball game sometime. Would this be possible?"

While my response to this e-mail would be "does the CC on this e-mail make it look like my name is Sharon Steinberg? Because I'm pretty sure I'm not a fucking old Jewish lady with a fucking Fiddler on my roof, you asshole", Nikprelaj's publicist did the next best thing and sent the e-mail to the New York Post. Ahhh, nothing scream humiliation like a breakdown in The Post.

I'm all for athletes, and yeah, I've dated a few down trodden ones in my lifetime, but honestly, this reminds me of the time I was 18 and sent a letter to Ryan Gossling's publicist asking him for a date (fuck off, it was right after The Notebook came out). I know a lot of celebrity couples get paired through work and through clients and all that bullshit... I know a lot of it is a set up. But I wonder if that shit wreaks of desperation as much as this one does. And even if it does, fuck dude, it hasn't gone public. I mean, not for anything, this dude probably can pull some vagina with the Phillies card he's got to play. I mean, he's not Cole Hamels, ahem, but to some unsuspecting drunk bitch in a bar, who knows nothing about baseball and thinks getting a hit is when the ball makes contact with the bat (I'm talking to you, Minka Kelly, we all know you're looking for a rebound), he could make that work in his favor without having to disclose that he will probably get traded eventually and end up on a long string of teams that will never win a World Series.

Or honestly, go through friends. Having your agent set this shit up is like having your mom set up a play date with a guy you really like. Fucking grow a set and find your own connection to the bitch. I'm sure someone on the 30 teams in baseball has some kind of connection to this girl. Friend of a friend of a friend of a friend. Going through your agent makes it look like you a.) didn't have the balls to do it yourself, b.) don't give a shit enough to do it yourself, c.) you're not capable of getting ladies on your own that you have to watch Disney movies and pick them out of the cast lineup for dates. Give me a fucking break! Why doesn't he just post an ad on Craigslist (a la Coco Crisp?) for fuck's sake. God, go through Facebook even! I cut out the middle man entirely and simply send dudes random messages on Facebook about possibly getting beers. Nick Schommer is included in that list of dudes, by the way. That was some serious Facebook FBIing on my part. If I can do it, there is no reason this guy can't bust out a computer in the 8 other innings he isn't playing and do a little digging on his own. Make the effort fucker, you don't have a ring yet.

Also, this girl Antoinette is a hottie. I know nothing about her, but if she happens to have a chance at even being C list in the industry, settling for this dude is not a place she wants to go. She needs to take her beautiful brunette ass and pick her own athletes to bang. She looks kind of like the girl who played Sloan in Entourage, but thinner and younger. She has a shot. I'm glad she saw the free agent extension denied writing on the wall and said "nah, thanks" to this guy.

And so began my current boycott of the SF Giants.

2011-09-14T02:38:00.008-04:00

I love getting e-mails for you guys again. And I always find it SO fascinating that my Kim Kardashian/E! stories always get so many interests, hits and comments. I know you all secretly watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians too, you undercover losers, take pride!

Anyway, now that I'm back on the circuit, you guys have been sending in some e-mails again, which I'm grateful for, and while this wasn't one of my favorite questions, nor is it something I'm thrilled about writing about (nervous actually), I want to answer and since the opportunity is there, I will.

I got an e-mail from a girl named Andrea who asked what happened with DC guy, and whether he was an athlete. She said "I've literally read your whole blog from start to finish, and your whole personality seemed to change when you wrote the post about how hurt you were. What happened?"

I went back and read those posts that came in the days after I literally was on suicide watch, and she is right. I lost a little bit of my fuck it all attitude and replaced it with "how difficult is it for a 25 year old girl in a Yankees jersey to get a noose around here?" bullshit. Kind of scary.

I always pride myself on some minimal talents ("talents"). My stat rat sports knowledge is one. When you um...watch...what I was doing for the last three weeks....on October 20th....ahem... you'll witness how fucking scary my love of sports really is. Or at least I hope you will, because that was the best fucking part of the whole thing. My loyalty. I'm a good, good fucking friend. Or at least I try my absolute hardest to be. I know everyone says that, but you know 85% of the people that say that are fucking lying. There are some terribly shitty people who think they are great friends, when in reality their friends all hate them. That's not me. I don't have many friends... I mean, that makes me sound antisocial, fuck ha. I have friends, but not 400. It's why I didn't work in a sorority. I like having my friends that I can focus on, care about, learn about, be interested in, be there for. I like spending time on my friendships, and I've learned that being selective about the people you *REALLY* let into your life, allots you more time to be a better friend. I love being a good friend. And finally, I like to think in some weird, fucked up way, that my humor makes me stand out. I'm crude, I'm a bitch, I'm graphic, I'm inappropriate, I'm honest and I'm fucking shameless. I love laughing, especially when it's at myself because that makes whatever dumb fucking thing I did more tolerable. And this blog helped me share that and get it out there and make some random people laugh. For me, that as probably one of the best things about this whole sordid online affair. Showing off my best assets to the world. Because obviously my tits are not them. :)

So when the DC thing happened, it felt like someone killed that. And I lost one of the few things that ever made me feel special. It added insult to injury. Kid broke my heart and indirectly took away one of the few things in life I was good at, that I loved to do. (Mentally mother fucking him as I write this actually ha). Like, I just couldn't bring myself to laugh, or want to write about sports or being funny or fucking hot guys or even Nick Schommer. Nick fucking Schommer couldn't pull me out of this rut. That's how deep it was.

Yes, he was an athlete. Sort of. Eh, he was. He played baseball for the SF Giants for a bit, but hung 'em up when it was clear AAA was really all he was going to get. From what I read, he was good, and he had a good draft class, and he was "in" with the boys who make the Giants famous today. I remember seeing a pic of him, Timmy and Wilson and thinking "eh, alright, I'll take it" ha. The jersey chaser in me is always there, even when I'm trying to settle down.

I didn't know that about him when we first met. That came out later, when we realized we had mutual friends. So at least I knew if he ended up being a serial killer, my mother would be able to trace everything back to him, which is always important in this shit ha.

He wasn't drop dead gorgeous. He was just... handsome. And I have never dated a guy I thought that about. I always think the guys I date are hot. At least at the time. But he was attractive, and he had such a hot voice. And fuck, he was funny as shit. I am not one to bullshit you about humor being the most important trait in a guy. It's not, at least for me, and most girls who say that are fucking lying because they don't want to admit they are shallow bitches. It's good to have, but you want someone you can fuck and not want to vomit after, and to me, that initial attraction is the most important thing. But good fucking God, his humor came really close on that one.

He was the first uncircumcised (and hopefully last ha) penis I ever saw. Didn't quite know what to do with it, literally. Took some um, getting used to.

And in like two weeks, he just fell into place. Like, for three years I had this huge wall up where I really didn't expect anyone to fit in my life. I had actually fallen in love with the idea of being single and fucking around with all these guys and having a good time. I didn't think I would find someone I'd click with like the way I did with Alvin (obviously not his real name, but his real name is just as awkward and this psuedo make me laugh lol).

I was down in DC all the time. On the phone with him all the time. Texting him, all the time. Calling him when I got out of work. Up on Saturday nights on the phone for 8 hours. And when I was there, I'd wake up in the morning in his god awful, hideous, 1970's sleigh bed and be on his shoulder and just felt happy. It's all SO fucking cliche, I know, but I guess that's why so many people describe shit this way. It's just what it is.

There was an issue with sex that came up a few times, and it made me very self conscious. Looking back now, I don't know if it was me, or him, or what. But I was very, very thrown off by it and hurt. I don't want to go into detail about what it is for his sake, not mine. But take a few guesses and I'm sure eventually you'll get it.

Like most idiot girls, I thought he was it. I know when I know, and with him, I knew. Missing puzzle piece found, positive to the negative plugged in. I even cooked him fucking dinner. Do you know how big that is for me? I don't even fucking cook myself dinner. I made myself top ramen tonight. And I cooked him fucking dinner. I spent a shit ton of hours on a God damn bus just to spend time with him. To me, he was worth it. And when our kids had beautiful blue eyes, I'd think all the bullshit had been worth it just so they didn't have my big dull brown eyes.

And then he flaked. It was legitimately as though someone had flipped a switch. Night and day. I left on a Tuesday after Memorial Day, he had gone to work, I took a late bus. Left him a note that said "by the time you read this I will probably be somewhere on I-95 in Jersey. But know that wherever I am, I would so much rather be here with you".

He sent me a text when he got home from work saying "I just got a very good note on my bed :)". Shit was good. I was ready for shit to stay good. I deserved, after all the shit I've voluntarily put myself through and hurt myself with over the years, for shit to stay good.

And then he didn't call. I was moving, and busy, and I spaced a tiny bit. But I noticed he wasn't responding. Noticed he was distant. And then he just didn't call at all.

When I finally confronted him about it, four days later, the first four days I lived in NYC, mind you, when I should have been out getting wasted and fucking half of Wall Street to celebrate, not sitting in a bar with my friends wondering what in God's name I had done wrong, he balked. He said he was still interested, but that he had felt like everytime he had looked at his phone over the weekend, it was ringing.

Lie. Why? Because I was moving. I'd like to know how many times I could have called or text him in the three days I spent assembling IKEA furniture, and driving 8, 8 fucking times between NYC and Long Island to pack up my shit, then unpack. It was no more than I had called or text in the last month. In fact, probably less because I was so busy. And honestly, I'm totally one to admit when I am a crazy person. Like, I'm a girl, I have those moments when I block my number and call 27 times, or like, you know, stalk the chicks a guy adds on FB after me. I've been there, I don't deny it. I have a vagina, I have estrogen, I have amazing stalking skills, and when they are all used at the same time (maybe not the vagina), it can be deadly and typical. And if this were the reason, I'd be pumped because at least it would have made sense. But it didn't. I didn't pull a Swimfan on this dude, I swear it on my life, I was entirely normal and not the blonde chick in obsessed. Scouts fucking honor on that one kids.

Then he blamed the distance. Lie number two. He knew if there was anyone, anyone in this fucking world who could make distance work, it was me. With my new schedule, I could leave on Thursday morning and be in DC until Monday morning. My mom lives 20 minutes from her boyfriend on Long Island and doesn't even fucking see him that much. I could have gotten transferred to our restaurant down in DC. I could have. I would have. Hi, I fucking made Maryland Vancouver work. DC is 45 minutes by plane, 2 hours by train. Distance? Give me a fucking break.

I went total Pisces girl. I cried. I begged. I hate that I begged. I'm a fucking bitch, I wish I just went straight up mean bitch. I wish I made fun of him for shit or was just like "fuck you and your hooded penis." But I thought I could fix it, and he just didn't want me to.

I sent him a few e-mails in the following weeks. None got a response. There were some drunk one sin there too. No response. But he didn't block my e-mail. I only know that because when the east coast had our little "earthquake", I sent him an e-mail saying that I hoped he was okay as I knew where he worked was being evacuated. he responded with one line. "Ha, yeah, it was pretty crazy down here but I got a half day at work so that's nice!"

I've lost a lot of guys in my life, alright. My dad, for one. My first boyfriend who literally was, at the time, the absolute love of my life. Heath, my ex lacrosse player, who I just loved in the most genuine, honest way I have ever loved someone. Soccer hottie, arguably the best looking fucker I have ever banged in my life.

This was like losing all of them all over again at the same time. And I have, NO fucking idea why.

This wasn't a long situation. It wasn't particularly different or stand out. He isn't that hot, doesn't make that much money, and he had some gray hairs. And he drove a Honda. And he looked like a total fucking nerd from Office Space when he wore button up shirts and ties to work. He wasn't that special. But it was like, the whole world had shut off for me.

Seriously, I know you fuckers like, witnessed a tiny bit of my depression with those posts, but those were horribly muted because I was legit nervous if I told the total truth of what I was feeling, someone would be a good friend and call the fucking hospital to take me away in a straight jacket. I remember thinking "if I couldn't keep this guy and his issues interested, I'm fucked. I'm never going to get married and I am done looking for someone to love." It was a really, really shitty moment.

Like I said, that's the Pisces in me. When I'm sad, I'm suicidal. When I'm happy, I'm like, high on life. Unfortunately, this one blind sided me. You guys were right - he was a game changer for me and he ended up striking my ass out. And I was reeling.

Did I love him? Honestly? Yes. Batshit as it is, I did. And I kept saying in other posts "I could have loved him" because I didn't want to admit to you fuckers that a.) I have the ability to love things and b.) that I'm one of *those* girls. I didn't want you guys to lose sight of everything i have ever written about - about how I don't fall easily, about how I have only been in love twice, about how I'm very careful and insanely picky about who I love, and suddenly be like "Stef's a fucking liar and she probably falls for everyone she hooks up with". I don't. I didn't. But with this one, I did. It was just all the right movements in one guy and it fell into place and that was the result. Yes, I loved him. And yes, I would have absolutely been willing to take his god awful, stupid, mildly embarrassing, sound of a fucking name. I cared so much about him and he made me feel good for a while. I fucked myself for letting my guard down with him, and now I'm at a point where that guard is at color code red (in the homeland security color coded security threat thing). I made a mistake, but ya can't help who you fall for. No one ever loves a person who is good for them. And I am no exception to that rule. There'd be no fun in it, no thrill, no reason to keep trying.

I have, if you can't tell from the fact that I'm cracking mildly funny jokes instead of writing suicide notes, since recovered. Not completely. I still think about him probably on a daily basis. I still miss him so much when something cool happens to me, or I hear a funny joke, or I'm horny (he was super good at text sex, by the way). I still think about how gay I let myself be when I danced with him in his kitchen, or how fucking hard I laughed when we were drunk and he bear hugged me so I couldn't get to the bathroom and I came within like .8 seconds from peeing in my pants and we fell down in his hallway laughing like a couple of crackheads. And I miss him when I meet a new guy and I realize I'm still like, super guarded and not quite over him yet. But I still love to make sutpid jokes and talk about sex and I had to get back on that track, so here I am. And ironically, I got a lot of that groove back when I was in Alabama (hint hint hint) doing what I was doing the last couple weeks. I found myself again down there and realized how much I loved that part of me that was a no bullshit, didn't give a fuck, foul mouthed stat rat sex fiend quick witted bitch. So now I'm putting that shit back into motion here where people actually appreciate it.

And that's the story. Yes, he was in theory, another athlete. Yes, he was a guy I would typically go for. But he was different in the sense that shit wasn't why I went for him, for once. It was just a nice side perk that I felt like i had a lot in common with him and got a lot of what he had done in life, particularly because of my own experience with the minor league life.

If he called me tomorrow, would I answer? As much as I would like to be a tough vagina with self respect, yes, I would. Do I expect it to happen anymore? Nope. He's done, dusted, and he's probably fucking engaged to someone else, knowing my track record. I don't actually no. Blocked on Facebook, lost his number (and didn't have it memorized). He's off my radar of awareness, other than the random drunk e-mails I send him every now and then about how ugly he looked in boxer briefs (true story, we all know my opinion of boxer briefs). And I told him I loved him in a batshit letter I wrote him to get it off my chest a few weeks after the fact. No response to that which wasn't surprising, though I was happy I hadn't received a restraining order after that stunt ha. Sometimes i let my romanticism run away with me.

So that's it. That's where I was all summer. Recouping from a tragically broken heart. That's why I was such a cunty bitch to all of you, why I went MIA, why I wasn't funny. Why I sucked at life, basically. Because of a boy with a hooded penis, bright blue eyes, ugly underwear and a really great sense of humor. And because he ended up being just as big of a dick as he was an awesome guy, if not more so. And yeah, you guys deserved to know the story, as pathetic and lame as it makes me look. I mean, you guys read the puppet fucking story. I don't know which is worse, and after that, I don't think there is anything I could write to you guys that would make your opinion of me worse if that didn't already ha.

But on the flip side, there were a lot of good moments this summer that helped me move forward and say "fuck him". And since you guys tend to love candid photos, here are some decently funny ones from my summer. I have really, really good friends ha.

Party at my Hamptons house... yes, I have dimples in my ass, fuck you.

Yankees game with Jen, my first step to recovering 4 days after the shittiest phone call I've gotten in a while:

Brother Jimmy's... a place of solitude and familiarity and comfort.

Me running into my 8th grade boyfriend at the Drift Inn in the Hamptons and my best friend secretly grinding on him as I tried to not laugh.

You're never too old to shot gun a beer...

I am so fucking college sometimes it scares me.

K stands for Korny as fuck

2011-09-12T09:13:00.006-04:00

Obviously a lot of people got married and had babies this summer. Some people broke up a la Jay Cutler and the chick from the Hills (those bitches are all interchangeable to me, so names are not required). Posh had a baby and still looks like a feed the children campaign on heels. But right now, I want to discuss Kim Kardashian's wedding to Kris Humphries, guard for the New Jersey Nets.

Kim has always been one of my favorite jersey chasers. She and her batshit family are one of my guilty pleasures. I secretly enjoy them, because in all the fame whoring and spin off shows about nothing, I feel like there IS a family there. And a lot of the interaction between the three oldest reminds me of my relationship with my own sister. So secretly (well, not so much anymore), I do enjoy the Kardashians. Plus, Kim is a fellow jersey chaser in a the good way. She seriously dated Reggie Bush, who apparently has the worst case of halitosis known to mankind according to one of my buddies at SI (I always get the best gossip from that crew ha), then she went for Miles Austin of the Dallas Cowboys, who to me looks like the hotter version of her current husband, Kris Humphries. I gotta give the girl props, she went athlete to athlete in her life, post 25. I commend her.

So let me just say, when the pictures of Kim's wedding surfaced, I was like... what the fuck is this shit?

Fine, we got a glimpse of the marriage fame whoring with Khloe's wedding. I get it. You sell pics to the paps, you have a free wedding! But like, all the rumors about this shit, plus the guest list from hell, and that beaded head thing? I mean, I've seen weddings at Mohegan Sun fashioned by David's bridal that have been less fucking tacky than this mess.

First, let's break down outfits:

K, first, the dress. I don't really dig strapless. For me, it just leaves something to be desired, in this case, support for Kim's fucking massive tittays. It fit alright, but she still looked a little TOO curvy, you know? Like, cheeseball curvy. Like trashy curvy. As for that beaded headbang/belly necklace thing? Ridiculous. For me, the biggest part of a wedding is hair and dress. If your hair and dress look good, you can show up sans makeup, panties, bra, soul, whatever, and still have damn good wedding pictures. This headband thing a.) takes away from the already mediocre dress and b.) makes her look even more like Princess Jasmine, in a bad way, than she already does. Plus, if you live in California, take advantage of the humidity-free weather. Wear your hair down. Kim looks 4 billion times better with her hair down than she does with it up, and for me, the whole ensemble was just too much of BLAH.

As for the bridesmaids...I thought the dreses themselves were nice, but bitch was taking a page from Kate Middleton's "I don't have to be the only one in white, I'm not like that" book and I just don't think it worked as well. I know the whole even was "back or white", but I actually preferred the bridesmaids dresses to Kim's dress. And that's sad when your sisters look like they are more equipped to aesthetically get married than you do.

I also don't do white jackets, so Kris Humphries tux was not one of my favorites. White jackets make me think of my high school graduations, because the girls wore white dresses and guys wore black pants and white jackets (we didn't have caps and gowns, Garden City is so above tradition ha). So when I marry a guy, I'd like to not be brought back to my senior pool party where I made out with my at the time best friend's unrequited high school crush and threw up in the Garden City Pool's parking lot at 4 in the morning. I'm just saying, it was a good time, but a one time kind of deal, ya know?

I was on the fence about the "Team Hump" juicy sweats. Cute for pre-wedding shit, but honestly at the reception? No. Am I the only person who likes looking nice for a long time? Like, when I get dressed up, I want it to last for as long as humanly possible because more often than not I am in sweats and a t-shirt being fat. A with 4 billion pictures being taken, I'd just wanna feel good, not feel like I should be ordering Ooki Sushi and watching True Blood on a Sunday night (ps, season finale was SO fucking good).

Rumor has it this wedding cost about 15 million, and the KD's didn't pay a dime for it! Why? Because they sold their shit to the highest bidder and THEY paid for it. But then I also heard that despite the extravagence and cheeseball over the top nature of the whole thing, Kris Humphries parents flew coach to California and had to pay for it themselves. Dick? I mean, their son makes upwards of $1.8 a year. He couldn't spring for some AMEX miles and get an upgrade? Seriously?

Do I see this situation lasting? I have no idea, and I'll say that honestly. I thought Khloe and Lamar were doomed, and they seem to still be going strong. Same with Kourtney and Scott Dissick, who while he is a HUGE douche, is probably one of the funnier fuckers on the show, mainly because he looks like Patrick Bateman and I am constantly waiting for him to run on set naked with a chainsaw chasing Bruce Jenner. I'd literally pay to see that. Anyway, my point is, I think if the guy is equally as big of a fame whore, it's going to be okay. And from what I've seen with Kris Humphries, I think he's in that category. I watched the episode where they are in Bora Bora, and he played into that shit like he had been working for Ryan Seacrest for YEARS. He isn't camera shy, he isn't "America will think I'm an idiot" shy, so I think there's a chance for this to last. Reggie Bush? While he may have stinky breath, I don't think he's an in the spot light kind of dude. Neither was (so he claimed) Miles Austin. Both relationships ended. So to me, Kris Humphries apparent inability to not look like a tool (he plays for a team from NJ, what do you expect), makes me think this has a chance of going the (Hollywood) distance (of at least 2 years).

And finally, let me just throw this in here under "who the fuck invited her?". Lindsay and Dina Lohan, good fucking Lord. I have been working painstakingly over the years to try to change people's perception of Long Island, and bitches just keep dragging my efforts down. Check out these two pearls of youth and vitality. Good lord. Lindsay looks BEAT. Like, do you guys remember that story on CNN a couple years ago, about the 5 year old Iraqi boy who was attacked by extremists with acid, and they brought him to the US to fix his face and they had to put like, coke cans under his skin to stretch his skin? Yeah, he looked better than Lindsay.