Thursday, August 19, 2010

Lola vs. Stupid People Are Annoying

This deviates from the normal sex-fiend alcoholic post but I need to get this off of my chest. Get ready for this bloggers. This is angry, ranting Lola.

I'm not the type of person who actually likes to confide in people about real problems. Dating, alcoholism, and sleeping with random men are easy topics to discuss. Because none of that really means anything to me.

*****Dear Random Men I've Slept with Who Have Somehow Managed to Find this Blog,
I don't mean you. You were/are special to me. Unless I haven't spoken to you in over a year, then you most likely fall into the don't mean anything category. Sorry.
Hugs and Kisses,

But I digress. Once in a blue moon, I decide that this one particular thing in my life gets a bit too hard to handle and I need to talk to someone about it. I feel like this is always a bad idea. I much prefer keeping everything bottled up inside, so that you can unexpectedly lash out at someone with little to no repercussions. That's waaaay healthier. During the course of trying to discuss something that's nearly impossible to put into words, someone said something to me that I find completely and utterly inane.

"Welcome to my world."

You know what always works when trying to comfort someone? Condescension.

Seriously? Welcome to my world? No, my world is not comparable to your world. Mine is infinitely more personal, more effecting, and harder to deal with than yours. Because it's MINE. If I find you worthy enough to actually confide in, I don't want to listen to you welcome me into how much more difficult your life is. Or how your problems are the exact same as mine. Or how you completely relate to what's going on with me. Because it's not. They're not. And you can't.

So what's the proper response?

Offering to kill a hooker.

Only a real friend would do that.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Lola vs. Simple Dating Rules #8, #9

It's been quite awhile since I've added to my list of dating rules. I bet you've missed my little pearls of wisdom. I was asked recently by a friend how I've managed to avoid emotional entanglements over the past two years. Occasionally, just occasionally, even I experience a chink in my armor. Luckily, I have a sure-fire way to patch it.

Simple Dating Rule #8- Lola's key to avoiding emotional entanglements.

Sleep with someone else. Preferably someone hotter and more interesting. Honestly, interesting can really be taken out of the equation. As long as you have hotter, you're probably fine.

Well, just until they turn crazy. Or start dropping things off on my doorstep, which amuses Kane to no end. He relishes making fun of the fact that I always seem to find the guy who has a penchant for this. I tend to run most of my emotionally bankrupt decisions by Kane so awhile ago, I was having this conversation with him about this guy who was interested in me and who, well, can barely string two sentences together and has a bit of a bad reputation.

Lola: So he's not really that bad.
Kane: (frustrated) Are you even listening to yourself right now? All I hear is blah blah blah... desperate for validation... blah blah blah.
Lola: Not really.
Kane: You're basically saying (severely high-pitched mocking voice) Um, it's not really that he's an asshole, it's just that he's an asshole.
Lola: Well...
Kane: He has no redeeming qualities. So he's an asshole with NO redeeming qualities. How do you not see a problem with this?
Lola: But he's so pretty.
Kane: .....

Simple Dating Rule #9- Never have your facebook open on your phone when a cute guy is asking for your number.

Way too Grown Up For Me Guy: Aww, that's a cute baby picture.
Lola: (confused) Um what?
WTGUFM Guy: Your profile picture, the one with you in the red wagon.
Lola: Oh no, um... that was taken last week.
WTGUFM Guy: ....

Good thing he didn't see the post about me stuffing a dead hooker in the trunk of my friend Kane's car. That might have pushed him over the edge.

Maybe I'm just too immature to date like an adult? 'Cause really, there are just times when I'd rather be chilling on my couch, eating mac and cheese with hot salsa and watching my latest show obsession. Fuck dinner and a movie. How about some mac and cheese, cold beer, and my couch? Followed by some seriously hot sex?

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Lola vs. Chi-town, Tequila, and a Love Triangle

So a blond, a redhead, and a brunette walk into a bar… Sounds like the start of a dirty joke?

More like an implosion of awesomeness!

Last week, I flew into Chicago early for a meeting to spend the night with V and Blunt Delivery. The two points in my It's Complicated Facebook love triangle. Oh, there were pillow fights. Feathers. And Necessary Roughness. But there was also wine, massages, a bucket of margaritas, a kiss (of which there may or may not be photographic evidence), an assault on errant lobby art (in defence of V's honor), and vodka.

And I did what many men have tried to do and failed. I got in bed with three other women. All while wearing Victoria Secret.

After the weekend's shenanigan's had faded, it wasn't the naughty cuddling in bed that stayed with me, although it was delicious. It was the connection I had made with these two girls, who before this weekend- for all intensive purposes- I had never met before. And it was amazing how fun, how effortless the weekend turned out to be.

I'm a big believer in connections. If you find it with someone, no matter how you meet or how it happens, you should always follow it. Even when it's unconventional. Because you never know where it will lead.

Doesn't exactly fit with the commitment phobic Lola you've grown to know and love, huh? What can I say? I'm a contradiction. Layers, baby. I've got layers.

Still perhaps the best thing to come out of the weekend came during our hang-over breakfast, which is one of my absolute favorite things to do after a night of solid drinking insanity. We were waiting for our names to be called by the irritatingly chipper, maniacal pen-wielding host when V mistakenly asked me to check where we were on their table waiting list.

Bleary-eyed, still desperately trying to infuse my body with caffeine, I blindly followed her order and lurched up to the host. He pointed at the list and must have repeated our number five times but it wasn't getting through my alcohol muddled head. I came back to our group and muttered a "we're next." Which of course we weren't. Not even close. So after they caught on to the fact that I clearly had no idea where we were on the waiting list, V shot me an exasperated look and accused, "Your brain still tastes like tequila."

Which I'm still pretty sure scared the people sitting directly behind her into leaving.

Having to check into my hotel and sales meetings after the epicness that was the weekend was a sad, sad thing. However, my experience with Chi-town was far from over. In fact I bumped into someone very unexpected at my meeting that caused me to chuck all prior weekend plans. Our NYC adventure, I'm sure, will end up here at some point. Especially 'cause I end up in bed with another hot blond. Which leads me to two questions.

Why is it that lately I've spent more time in bed with women than men? And should I be concerned by this recent development?