Lola vs. The Moral Compass, Mostly Dented

Reasons Why You Shouldn't Date Me Right After I Get Out of a Longterm Relationship/ Reasons Why I May Have Been Called a Life Destroyer.

1. I've actually responded to someone asking me if they could crash in my bed with me after random sex by saying,"Um... I guess... um... either way is fine with me dude."
2. Number of guys I dated at the same time and mistakenly invited all of them to the show that I was performing in: 3. Oops.
3. Things I've said in response to "Want to go to my little brother's play?" as a second date suggestion: "You want me to do what now?" (laughter followed immediately by an awkward pause) "Oh, you were serious?"
4. The moment I developed slightly more than sexual feelings for this guy I was sort of dating last year, I went out and purposefully slept with someone else the very next night. He found out about it after the weekend and texted me: "Yeah, I think it's better that we're just friends."
5. Number of people I have pretended not to know after hooking up with them in the past year: 2
6. Number of guys I have actually forgotten I've slept with: 2
7. Number of guys I've actually slept with: Ha... you didn't really think I was gonna reveal that one did you?
8. After hooking up with someone the entire night during/after a wedding, one of his friends hit on me. I responded to this, by slapping my hand on his chest, looking up at him and saying,"You do realize that I've spent the entire night with ______." He said yes. So of course, I shrugged and then spent the next hour hooking up with _________'s friend.
9. After someone said to me,"Do you think your mom would like me?", I stared at him, mouth open, for a good ten minutes and then never called him again.
10. Times I've cancelled a date because I've gotten my period and didn't want to sit through dinner without the possibility of sex afterwards: 4

Now I probably shouldn't admit this but there's really only one on that list that I actually regret doing. Yeah, Karma is totally going to kick my ass.

I once nominated a friend to make all of my decisions one night since mine always lack...you know... any moral fiber (see numbers 1-6 and then 8-10). Yeah, that didn't work out so well either. I ended up accidentally having sex with an ex of mine.

At least I could blame someone else for that bad decision. But 1-10, clearly mine.

Before going into this weekend and right after making this list, I realized that I need to recalibrate my tarnished, dented, and erratically spinning moral compass. Then I went to the NYC brewfest. And I came home without a bra. With no recollection where it went.

I guess if you can't remember it, it doesn't get added to the list. Oh well, I suppose there's always next weekend to find a new needle for that broken compass of mine.

Lola vs. The Compliment

Once again, on a Sunday, I find myself on the coma couch, my body battered and my soul just a bit darker, from yet another weekend of drinking, sarcasm, and soulless behaviour. I am also sporting a huge bruise on my left cheek (yeah, not my face) that has left me slightly confused, if not in a little bit of pain.

Ok, so I know how the bruise got there but a girl has to keep some secrets now, doesn't she? ----Insert cheeky grin here.---- Riiight. I wish what had happened was cheeky grin worthy. Sigh.

What was the point of this post again? Oh, right. Compliments. Having an inherently sarcastic nature and hanging out with mostly guys on a frequent basis leads to some of the most interesting (insulting) compliments. Let me give you an idea of what my self esteem contends with during a typical weekend with Lola and her boys.


Lola: It's really good to see you.
J: You know, your name kind of sounds like a dying seagul when said in a certain way. (demonstrating) Loooooooooolaaaaaaaa.
Lola: Well, I was going to tell you that you look like you lost some weight and you look good but I guess your dead seagull compliment makes mine obselete.
J: Looooooooolaaaaaa!



P.F Cheng: Why would Lola have seen the Bang Bus? She's the most (dissolving into fits of hysterical laughter) wholesome (more laughter) out of (more laughter) all of us.
Lola: You couldn't even get to the word most with a straight face.



Charlie: I'm impressed with you.
Lola: (apprehensive) Why?
Charlie: That you haven't become a full blown lesbian yet. (gesturing towards Kane and PF Cheng) You know, considering the fact that you hang out with these two so much.
Lola: Thanks? (pauses) Wait... full blown? Is there such a thing as half blown? Am I a half blown lesbian?



Dennis:(slurring his words) You look like a cupcake.
Lola: (staring) Look?
Dennis: (thinking for a moment) Maybe... (sniffing Lola)
Lola: .....



The last one was a facebook wall post that said simply: "So there was a quote in the show tonight that I think sums you up. 'Don't Analyze Me. It's a deep dark hole and you don't wanna go there.' "


It's a wonder I'm not crying on my coma couch, listening to Celene Dion's All By Myself with a spoonful of chunky monkey in my mouth and chocolate sauce all over my white tank top. Naaaah. I wouldn't be, well, Lola if I was sensitive and shit.

Before I leave all of you, I have to confess something. I have a bit of a crush. Oh, it's been a secret up until now. But I can't hide it any longer. Our Green Day Rockband session Sunday just put me over the edge. So visit Mr. O, will you? And send him some naughty love. Or maybe just some real compliments.

Lola vs. Maturity

Between nursing a serious crush on Arrested Development, 234897 barbecues, flying to Columbus and getting my identity stolen, I was accused of something completely and utterly heinous.

Being mature.

Yeah, I know. Me. Of Bachelor Party, Hustler Club, skinny dipping with an entire British hockey team fame.

And like everything else in my life this accusation revolves around sex. Because I actually refused it, not once, but twice recently.

Yeah, I know. Me. Of I will sleep with someone purely because they have an accent, Wedding Matritution fame.

The boys and I went out to see my friend's band play and after wandering off from my group, I gained entrance into the dancing trust circle of some guys I had met. I spent awhile conversing/dancing/singing with their leader but got distracted as he was asking for my number when my friend finished his last set and jumped offstage. So I completely left random guy, staring after me, most likely in mid-sentence or at the very least mid phone flip as I launched myself into the arms of my friend B.


After stumbling out of the bar around 3am, the boys had this to say:

Z: We totally thought you were gonna bone that guy.
Lola: Wait. What? I don't always go around boning guys.
Z: Let's go with statistical analysis on that one.
Kane: (whispers) Whore.
Lola: First, no one trusts me to be designated driver-
Z: You were drinking tequila at the time-
Lola: (ignoring Z)- And then everyone assumes I'm just going to sleep with random guys every weekend. (shouting now) I am not an alcoholic sex fiend! (cue many, many drunken catcalls from the alleyways)
Kane: (whispers) Whore.

The second incident involves a guy I had met a little while ago and we briefly dated (sort of). Someone got a little more serious (him) and someone ran away (me) and someone (him) decided to cool things off because someone was also dating other people at the time (me). Something occured recently (alcohol) in which the situation changed a bit (alcohol) and we ended up in a place (alcohol) where we almost hooked up. And it was me who stopped anything before it started. Yup. Me.

I explained both incidences to a girlfriend of mine over the phone as I was running errands. She chalked the first one up to always putting my friends above "boning" but she was entirely too interested in the second one for my taste. In fact, I believe the first words she said were,"Awww, look at you caring about someone else's feelings."

I responded by making loud vomit noises. In front of two children, who had taken that moment to sneak up behind me as I was loading up my basket full of Cherry Coke and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. They looked horrified.

I gave the children a half-hearted apologetic shrug and focused back to my friend on the phone, who was now saying, "Wow, I'm so proud. My little Lola is finally growing up and being mature."

I responded to this last one a bit more violently by declaring: "Just for that, I am so going to sleep with the next random guy who walks by!" Which happened to be a 70 year old man, as I was in the pharmacy section of CVS at the time.

Ok, so maybe maturity was a bit of a stretch.