"Poor Buffy. Your life resists all things average."

There are some days when I'm literally walking around in a daze because I just cannot BELIEVE how dumb some people are; and there are times when all the stupidity converges into a fine point of ignorance.

Last week was such a time for me, because I had three different men I went to high school with prove that there's just no cure for stupid. First, some history:

Behind door number one we have Spanish Class Loser (SCL). About ten years ago I got in touch with someone by chance who put me in touch with a bunch of other people, and he was one of them. Now, I went to a tiny, tiny high school (there were 62 people in my graduating class, including me) so you pretty much knew everybody. So, when SCL rather enthusiastically emailed me I thought it was awfully nice of him, even though I barely spoke to him in school. And when he started IM'ing me all the time I figured that the passage of time had just served to bring him out of his shell. I really thought it was just friendly banter. One night he kept after me to meet with him for coffee, so to shut him up I finally agreed to meet him at the local diner nearby (R.I.P. Dynasty). We get a booth and start talking about what we've been up to. At least I did. SCL spent most of the time talking about how he was obsessed with me in high school, and how he used to spend all his time in Spanish staring at my ass. Okaaaaay... ewww. I started to realize that he had some kind of idea in his head that now he'd found me after all these years and we were going to ride off into the sunset together. Again, ewww. So you can imagine that when I mentioned my boyfriend, his face just FELL. It was SO obvious. I couldn't wait to get away from him. He actually berated me for coming to meet him when I had a boyfriend that I had never mentioned. I'm sorry -- it was NONE of your business! He spent weeks harassing me via email and messenger. I had to block him, and then he created a new ID for himself so he could harass me some more. I was actually looking into getting a restraining order, it was that bad.

Now, behind door number two we have Basketball Star (BBS). I had an enormous crush on BBS for most of high school. About six years after graduation I had lost a bunch of weight and ran into him somewhere. Suddenly, he was very into me. Some very strange things happened and we never really hit it off. He probably shouldn't have taken my real mom's side in shit he didn't know anything about. I probably shouldn't have slept with his roommate (hey, nobody's perfect). Anyway, time heals all wounds and a couple of years ago he friended me on facebook and we were very civil to each other. I never really talked to him after that, but he was still my facebook friend.

Behind door number three is the real winner, who we'll call Soccer Star (SS). We'll call him my first boyfriend, although I was seventeen and all we did was sleep together for a couple of years whenever he was in for the weekend (he moved out of state after graduation). I fancied myself in love with him. Whatever. I was a kid, what the hell did I know? I thought: sex=love. Still, I was pretty upset when I called him at home one day and he said "I can't talk, my fiancee is here." Um, wow. Didn't even know you had a GIRLFRIEND. Nice.

As you can imagine, our relationship did not end well. Years went by. 9/11 happened. And then, like a couple of other exes, he found me online. He wrote me a very sincere apology, so I wrote him back. I don't think I'd ever really gotten over him; it was one of those things that was always a "what if?" to me. We started talking online a lot, as he was stationed overseas. Most of it was very nice, grown-up conversation. He told me all about his wife and kid, I told him all about me. Sometimes, and I'm not proud of this, but sometimes the conversation went a little... awry. That's the problem with the internet, I guess. It's easy to be naughty. In any case, I never took it seriously. Actually, talking to him occasionally is what made me finally GET over him after all those years. I think I had put him on a pedestal when I was very young, and now that I was much older he was just a guy. So we would email off and on, and thanks to him I got back in touch with a lot more people we graduated with through the infamous Class of 91 blog.

The thing about SS is that he's like a dirty old man. He takes EVERY conversation in that direction. EVERYTHING. It's ANNOYING. Not to mention uncomfortable for myself and any other girl he talks to on the blog or in private. It really started to bug me. He would email you out of the blue with something like "how's it going?" and you'd say "fine, what have you been up to?" and his response would be something akin to "just thinking about your naked body pressed up against me." Okay, again, ew. It would especially piss me off while I was dating Smaug, because he's proposition me and I would be like "how dare you disrespect my boyfriend" and he'd play it off that he was just kidding. Bullshit.

Anyway, as you can imagine his behavior got WORSE after Smaug and I broke up. He came back to my parent's house after my bon voyage party and once he realized they were away he used every angle he could think of to either get me naked (hey, let's play strip pool) or stay at the house so he could jump me later (hey, I'm too drunk to drive the four blocks to my house). I mean, SERIOUSLY. I told him point blank that I don't appreciate him still treating me like I was 17 and stupid. Like I'm just going to drop to my knees and blow you because you think you're cute? PUHLEEZE. I finally got rid of him, and then he tried to insinuate himself in my plans for the rest of the weekend (hello, no one invited you.) He'd given me this whole sob story about him and his wife heading for divorce. Yeah. RIGHT. Told me he'd be haunting me here in Maryland every weekend. Oh joy. I can't believe I even still talk to this person who treats me like a whore at every given opportunity despite being told EXACTLY how much I dislike hearing that shit out of his mouth. Face it, you're MARRIED. And even if you weren't, I'M OVER YOU.

Now, just to update the scorecard we have:
1. SCL, who I've not spoken to in about ten years after getting seriously scared of him and having to finally threaten restraining order
2. BBS, who I've hardly spoken to in two years and then only about very mundane things like weather
3. SS, who I've managed to avoid entirely since I moved out to Maryland

So, a couple weeks ago SS posts on Facebook that he's in DC for a month. So several of us post comments about "where are you taking me on the company dime, ha ha" including me, because for the last several years I've tried hard to stay friends with him on a platonic level. Sometimes I give people WAY too much benefit of the doubt. So I should have expected the text message asking me if I was interested in "me naked with lots of grain alcohol and sex" without provocation. And you know what? THAT WAS IT. That was the FINAL straw for me, and I just let him have it by basically suggesting that he go fuck himself, and that I was done. So his response was the usual "oh, you're in a bad mood and I was just kidding" but you know what? NO ONE is being fooled by that. You're feeling the waters my friend, and believe me, they are fucking COLD. I ignored him. He obviously didn't read my earlier post about not accepting anything less than I deserve. If you want to be my friend and hang out, fine, but you don't. Why else would you suggest that you come here to Hagerstown, where there's NOTHING, when I could come to DC and we could find fun shit to do there? Because you're hoping to get into my apartment where you can wear down my resistance with liquor, that's why. Seriously, do you really think that shit is still going to work almost 20 years later?

This is where shit starts to get weird. The very next day I'm on Facebook and I get a chat request from BBS. Which is weird, because he's never chatted with me before. He starts off with where do you live, are you married, do you have kids, are you dating and moves right into "how about I come out to Maryland and make love to you?"


My response was "thanks, already got that offer from SS and is there some kind of a bet?" He said maybe they could both come, and was that a yes or a no?

Again, what? I mean, I could understand all this if I was some smoking hot broad, but I'm a goofball with a fat ass. What is the attraction here? I know my blowjob is good, but this is RIDICULOUS.

My response to that was "why don't the two of you go fuck each other while I file my nails?" That pretty much got rid of him.

SS was back later that night asking if I was in a better mood. What does it take to get RID of these assholes? I told him to get lost and grow up. THAT got him. He started crying "WTF I thought you were my friend but you can kiss my ass" and did he miss the part the previous day when I told him to fuck off?

So now I'm just shaking my head, wondering how men can be so FUCKING STUPID as to think that what's going to make a woman swoon is to have a married man come on to her with such lines as "let's get drunk and fuck". Wow. I mean, am I still wearing that sign I had on in high school that says "Cheap and Easy"?

You're wondering where SCL is in all this, aren't you? Yeah. The very same day he tries to friend me on Facebook. Twice. ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID???? You creeped me out ten years ago and I couldn't get rid of your ass fast enough -- DO YOU REALLY THINK I'M GOING TO FRIEND YOU? Seriously -- IS THERE A BET ON FACEBOOK ABOUT WHO IS GOING TO FUCK ME FIRST? Ewwww! Ewwww! Go away, you maggots!

And people wonder why I can't find a nice man and settle down. It's because I'm surrounded by little boys who don't know how to grow up, and everyone I meet does nothing except sweep me back onto my feet.

I don't think Maryland is far enough away. Perhaps I should move to Paraguay.


Cleanse Wars Part II: Attack of the Colon

Boston is one of my favorite places on earth. I absolutely love this city and need to go and spend more time there, since I’ve only ever been on business and your free time is limited. Maybe I love it because when I’m there on the company tab I get to go to all the best places, but so what? Like you wouldn’t?

It’s an old city, but amazingly clean. My first time there I actually saw someone vacuuming the sidewalk on Boylston Street. No kidding. I gave a bum some change outside of Starbucks, and he called me back because I accidentally threw in a ring that was in my pocket, and he gave it back to me. It’s the kind of city Philly wishes it could be. That being said, it’s too fucking cold there and it snows too much for me to consider making it my permanent home. But I still love ya, Boston!

While I was last there I got to go to a great restaurant, Stephanie’s on Newbury Street. If you are ever in Boston, you have to go and order the macaroni and cheese. Get it with the prosciutto and the truffle oil. You will thank me, but I warn you: you will be ruined for any other macaroni and cheese for all time. I can never be satisfied by the blue box again (I mean Kraft, not the Tardis). Oh, get the onion rings, too. Bring an appetite. Listen to the fat girl when she points you towards the food – I’ve eaten plenty, so I know when something's really good.

So I know you all want me to shut up and tell you if I pooped my pants; well, I didn’t even have the urge to relieve myself while I was there. Probably because I put a mojito on it. It’s amazing how much shit can be fixed with a liberal application of alcohol (you thought I was done with the puns, didn’t you?). I even managed to get through the worst customer visit of all time the next day without incident. I think it's safe to say that colon cleansing has done nothing more than make shit easy on me (AND I'm done. *rimshot* Okay, I had one left.)

Moving on... so I discovered the most incredible place, and it's only forty minutes from here. There's a town in WV called Berkeley Springs, the site of a natural hot springs that was once frequented by George Washington and other historical figures of note (but now is only visited by hysterical figures like myself, ha ha ha). Mame came in for the weekend and we took a day trip there. The area has four different spas that use the springs, one of which is state run and therefore cheap as hell. If you can live without a lot of ambience, you can get a relaxing soak in the spring water followed by a half hour massage for the bargain price of $45.

Now, when you think spa you probably think: scented candles, fluffy pink bathrobes, soothing tantric music softly playing in the background... ahhhhh. Soothing. Well, I'm too cheap for that crap. That kind of mood lighting costs money. The state spa at the springs has this kind of atmosphere: you walk into the locker area, where they direct you to a little stall with a curtain and direct you to strip, wrap yourself in the sheet provided, place your belongings in the battered locker, and then take the key on the handy rubber cord and place it around your wrist. By the way, if you're in the end stall and happen to be visiting on the COLDEST EFFING DAY OF ALL TIME, it might be wise not to lean your naked ass against the stone wall. It will be extraordinarily cold and clammy. Just a tip.

Now that you are toga'd out in a giant sheet a little old lady will march all of you to your next destination. Mame got the roman bath; I turned down their offer to put us in the same one and chose the relaxing bath. I mean, I'll sleep next to Mame when she visits, but I'm not getting naked with her in a steaming bath.

This is where it helps to not be bashful. Once you get to the bath, your "attendant" will hold the sheet while you step bare-assed into the tub. Let's face it, this sheet is the thickness of tissue paper. They put me into this GINORMOUS bathtub filled with steaming spring water. It was so huge that I could completely submerge myself. I'm a big girl, so in a normal bathtub the top half of me will be completely dry while my back and ass are submerged. I have to flip over and let my butt dry to soak the front of me. Plus, there's always the possibility that I might drown in this position. Well, you get the picture. So huge bathtub with a little inflatable pillow for my head = niiiice. For the sake of propriety the attendant covers the front of me with a little towel that's just big enough to hide your boobs and bush. My boobs, however, are so large that they just flop to either side of the towel anyway, so that part was pretty useless.

After an undetermined amount of time (hey, I'm naked, it's not like I brought my watch), the attendant comes back to take me to my massage. Seriously, she could have left me in the tub for hours. But I stand up while she "hides" me behind the sheet, wrap it around my wet ass (now you DEFINITELY are going to see through this sucker) and pad after her to the massage area.

If you're the type of person who doesn't like to be touched, this is not for you. Despite the decorous way your masseuse tucks the sheet around you and only exposes the part she is massaging, let's face it: you are buck naked under there, and a total stranger is rubbing your exposed flesh. For me however, it was GLORIOUS. Touch-a touch-a touch-a tooooouch me... ahem, sorry, where was I before I burst into song? Oh yeah. Touched By A Stranger. I especially love when they work on my hands. I don't know why, but that relaxes me SO much.

So now that you've been soaked and rubbed like a prize turkey, you can go get dressed and spend your day walking around this adorable little town with its antique shops and galleries. All I can tell you is that I did my part for the American Economy that day. I bought paintings from a local artist. Mame and I ate in this adorable cafe that's also a gallery. I found something for my brother in an antique store, and then Mame and I both fell in love with these abstract prints with phrases on them by another local artist. I bought one mounted under glass that just spoke to me. The abstract is blue and purple, and it says "she built her cathedral from the splinters of her shattering."

And so I have. Welcome to my church.