Honest[Lee]

There’s… something… on the wing….

What an interesting position, the wing man. Being perpetually in a relationship, its a place I find myself often whilst accompanying my single lady friends. (Especially since my lady friends are so lovely.)

Tonight I was wing-man for my stepsister Lauren. Lauren is beautiful and she knows it. She knows what she wants and she gets it. She knows what she doesn’t want and she can gracefully say no, or at least not feel bad about being blunt. (Unfortunately I don’t share her social grace.) But going out with her is wonderful for two reasons- 1) because I get to spend more time with my stepsister and 2) bars are really interesting places.

Anyway, this is all building up to the main purpose of this blog- an open letter to the douche at the bar.

Dear guy,

I would like to start off by saying that it was very tactful of you to pull the two cutest girls to the bar and buy them shots why the other two (which included myself) stood awkwardly wondering if we were to follow. But you totally smoothed the situation over when you decided to wave us over and ask “Do you ladies want a shot too?” Way to go with that one. Lord knows I need your pity shot like I need a whole in my foot. And really it was downhill after that. Let me offer some suggestions so a situation like this might go a little more smoothly for you in the future:

1) You are terrible at staring at boobs. You are the least discrete individual ever. I’m not sure how, but I guess “Hi, my name is Lee,” is an open invitation for a gander. Just incase you are not sure what I’m referencing, I created a diagram for you.

See, it’s really step 2 that is giving you all the trouble. If you wouldn’t stare at me like an object (even after you obviously preferred my cuter friends) our conversation might have gone better.

2) Drinks are not bribes. I told you I didn’t want one, but you were too busy trying to get with my stepsister that you did not notice. I thought it was especially nice when you leeched on to our other friend and implored “Come on baby, what’d you want? What’s your favorite drink? Rum? Vodka?” You offered these with the same air as someone trying to coax a reluctant animal, and it was creepy. (Also, when a girl accepts your drink it is not a contract for an evening of entertainment. )

3) You’re such a smooth operator. I really appreciated when my stepsister turned her attention away from you and instead of gracefully bowing out you tried to carry her off like a freaking cave man. You literally grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away. Classy, guy.

Hanging out on the wing is a really interesting place. As far as a lesson I can take away from this situation- The dating scene is not for me.

(I don’t sound too bitter, do I?)

Two small moments from a really big day-

Today I started my placement for observation in a classroom. I was due in this fifth grade classroom at 8:30 in the morning. As I made an emergency trip to the grocery store for pantyhose and oatmeal I heard a familiar sound- the giggle of Noah Taylor. Sure enough one of my favorite little dudes was marching up and down the isle and helping his mom select his breakfast. When he saw me this crazy look crossed his face. It said “You! What are you doing here, all dressed up? You’re supposed to be at the preschool looking like hell!” I get such a kick out of that expression, because it is universal among preschoolers who see their teachers out in public.

Then, later in the day I saw one of my Crossfit trainers out in public, wearing clothes that aren’t gym shorts and a T-shirt. And I think I got that same expression on my face.

________

I’m enrolled in this very challenging Latin course. (Have you been noticing my affinity for participles?) I have a very dramatic, enthusiastic professor. I really admire how much he loves what he does. But instead of making me want to contribute in class, it makes me terrified to be incorrect in front of him. The first time I ever translated he said that I did a good job, but then he quizzed me on the form of the nouns in the sentence and I froze. What if I got it wrong? I had seen him recently having a slightly less than graceful reaction to a student who didn’t know their noun declensions. Even though all he said to them was “Frankly Mr. So-and-so, the fact that you don’t know this is astounding!” , the thought of his reprimand was terrifying.
And then I heard a voice from directly behind me supply the answer. I was saved! My hero! And before I knew it, I was out of the hot seat.

Today my friend couldn’t answer which form of qui, quae, quod was in this sentence and I had my chance to repay him. But I didn’t. I should have just blurted out “Accusative plural!”, but I didn’t. And I’m really disappointed in myself.

Next time, Latin friend I will come to your aid! I promise!

Ewww….

So, I’ve been friends with this one professor of mine. We’ve been exchaging emails having a friendly dialogue about a variety of subjects including family, regional differences, personalities (its a class about personalities). Anyway, I looked up to him as a kind of mentor because he was the one of a handful of my professors who ever bothered to learn my name. And he is certainly the only one who bothered to talk to me. So, I thought a lot of him.

Well today I get a really inappropriate email. Asking about meeting my parents. Talking to me about my appearance. Asking me for pictures of my best friend’s visit to town. I really don’t know what to say to him. It was all said in a way that could be perceived as either creepy or nonchalant. I don’t know, I don’t want to take chances. I’m probably not going to introduce him to my parents. And I’m not going to discuss my appearance. And I’m certainly not going to send him any pictures of me and my best friend.

I feel dirty, like I somehow asked for this by my friendliness. What if I didn’t really deserve that good grade? That is a terrible thought. I just feel wrong. Creeped out. Icky.

Part of my personality profile (I’m an ISFJ, I learned this stuff in class) is that when I am wronged, or I feel like someone overstepped their boundaries I take a looooooong time to forgive someone.

What do I do here? Move on and pretend it never happened? (This is the popular consensus.) Address it directly and tell him I was made to feel uncomfortable by his message? Whatever I do I think its probably a good idea to stop emailing.

My best friend says that this is a pretty common occurence. I kind of hope so because it would make me feel less icky, but at the same time I don’t want other girls to feel like this.

Am I overreacting? Whatever… I feel the way I feel.

Biz-nitches.

So, I had a lovely evening watching the Vols lose. Upon my arrival home I noticed that the use of my driveway was completely blocked by Laura’s friend Liz. She does this every time! Three freaking people use that driveway, we need to get in and out of it. SO, when I jokingly said “excellent parking job, liz.” She got her panties in a wad. And then I discovered that Laura ate ALL of my smore stuff when I asked her not to. And then she said she won’t let me use the yellow dress for Dragon*con. Damnit!

THEN I called Ramsey and I was like “Hey, do you want Oliver tonight?” And he’s like “Yeah, but it would appear to be a weakness if I talked to you for more than two seconds. I’m in front of dudes right now and I need to act like I don’t give a shit. I’ll call when its more convenient for me.” Fuck that!

I need to go somewhere else for a while.

When I drink…

Oh. my. goodness.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately reminiscing about days of old when I would get drunk and have fun and be totally irresponsible. So, last night I gave it another shot. I mean, I crafted and drank 3 beers (maybe four?) and then went to the bar and had two more. It was quite enough. I got the hiccups last night before I went to bed. That’s how you know its going to be a rough morning.

The reason I included a picture of my phone along with  my pitiful self was to illustrate how it is just barely still morning. Also I did it to brag about my new iphone.

Oliver and I are going to recover enough to go cuddle Ramsey (who is undoubtedly feeling the hangovers worse than we are).

Yes, Oliver drank too.

Scratch that last memo, please.

Okay, I just read over some of my posts from the last year. For give my most immediate post. I’m an idiot. I have so much to be happy about- I just need to find a way to cram more hours in the day.

Just like Oliver, my problem is loving too much.