Monthly Archives: September 2010

FSOSD: Football Season of Single Dudes

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That’s right…August has officially sunset and so goes our Summer of Single Dudes (SOSD). In fact, this Saturday marks our season closer with the Sonoma Crush Festival. Mary, Christie, Jen and I are heading to wine country for some tastings and good times…To put it lightly, we’ll be crushing crush festival.

Aside, as we head into the months of Fall, still single, efforts must be made. So despite my complete lack of knowledge around the game, I decided to join a Fantasy Football League to meet new single dudes! When I say I know nothing about football you probably think, “Oh well I’m sure she’s probably exaggerating, everyone knows something about football” But I’m not and I don’t. I can count the number of times football was on the TV in my house growing up on one hand. My father never fancied the sport and I have no brothers. I’m screwed!

But when Goldberg emailed the Cozy bitches and asked if we were interested in joining her league, I had to jump at the opportunity. Although I’ve heard ESPN is the place to establish your league, we chose YahooSports. Despite Gberg providing explicit instructions on how to log in, set up your team and select your roster, etc I struggled to say the least.

With the assistance of several male friends and my clever ability to bullshit my way through any situation, I came up with the following:

League Name: Balls for Bitches

Team Name: Mr Happy’s Revenge (PS If you don’t know where this name comes from, I’m glad.)

Roster:  I selected my team solely based on appearances. My hope was to have a fantasy love affair with them, but let’s face it that’s probably not going to happen.

I’m not sure what all that information means and to be perfectly honest I only discovered what the DEF, QB, RB abbreviations meant after I Googled them. Sure I don’t know what I’m doing, but at least I’m trying. Isn’t that endearing enough?

So here’s my ask…If you know of any great places to watch the games here in the city, let me know. And if you’d like to explain the game of football to me in very simple terms, that couldn’t hurt either.

Looking forward to having an amazing Superbowl Party. Get excited!

Meet My Personal Assistant

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If you are an avid reader of I Left My Dignity you probably could have guessed that although I am not garbbed in head to toe designer clothing, my lifestyle is not inexpensive (i.e. festivals are not free, people). From the Happy Hours to celebratory dinners to costumes to booze cruises to Saturday Faturday to Mels to Sunday Funday, my social life has run up quite the tab.

To make matters worse it dawned on me that June of 2010 marked the graduation from my senior-year-out-of-college. This means, as stated in the Cozy pact, any party should have their shit together and is thereby allowed to commit, marry or give birth. I quickly realized that aside from a steady job, I still had a lot of shit to get together.

So I decided to do a little research…how much am I really spending? Could it be that much? And where do I spend it? And then I came across these…


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My absolute disrespect for money was absolutely appalling, to say the least. As an immediate action item, I decided it was time to lay down some ground rules on my spending…Fast forward about two hours…I forgot that I absolutely detest being told what to do, even if it is me providing the regulations. Which led me to my second very urgent action item, hiring an assistant. I would like to introduce to you Jen:

I know what you’re thinking. This is the person who I hired? She’s not intimidating…She looks drunk…well she actually is a little in this picture. But she’s PERFECT…She’s a friend (so she can be trusted), she understands my lifestyle (so she won’t judge my severe costume spending habit) and she’s super smart (so her budgets are realistic).

Not only does she handle providing me an allotted spend each week, but she also handles my personal appointments too! You read me straight…Dentists, doctors, veterinary, she is on it!

It’s been a couple weeks and so far I have only received two emails entitled “I”m going to kill you!!” with screen shots of my bank account, so I’m feeling like we are on the right track…I’ll be sure to keep you all posted.

An Affair With a Fugitive: The End

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Yes, the title of this story is “An Affair With a Fugitive: The End” so that does mean there was a beginning. If you’re not an avid follower, refer back to An Affair With a Fugitive: The Beginning to catch up on the details…

So here we go…

Despite my just hearing the horrific recap of The Fugitive’s run-in with the law, I took my mother’s recommendation and The Fugitive and I saw a movie. I don’t remember what that movie was, but surprisingly chemistry ensued. We ended up back at my parents’ house making out on the couch. Fill in the blank. (Shocking I know.)

Over the next couple weeks I spent time with The Fugitive on several occasions, but our final night together truly takes the cake. It was at a house party at my friend Christie’s the night began. Her parents were out of town and she invited a bunch of people over for some shenanigans. The Fugitive showed up with a couple of his friends. They were stoned, and I myself was a bit buzzed to say the least. The Fugitive and I flirted over a couple Smirnoff Ices and Mike’s Hard Lemonades (because we were classy like that.)

At some point in the night The Fugitive had tripped and hurt his ankle so he was barely able to walk. But that didn’t take away from his charm. The party ended and The Fugitive and I decided to sleep at my friend Michele’s, whose parents were also out of town for the weekend. Michele was dating my current roommate Danny at the time, so the four of us headed over to her place for a nightcap.

The Fugitive and I slept in Michele’s room, Danny and Michele in her parent’s. Nothing particularly exciting happened that night, however the next morning will forever be burned into my memory as the worst morning after ever…

I had to be up around 6am to get ready for work that morning. At the time I was a manager of a small retail shop in town. I of course woke up about an hour late causing my adrenaline to pump as I feverishly attempted to piece together my life. The Fugitive lay sound asleep while I rushed about the room gathering my things, which also included a lackluster search for my dignity.

To my surmise, I had drunkenly packed a bottle of vodka without the cap in my overnight bag. All of my things were drenched in Taaka! The only dry items of clothing were a pair of purple patterned pajama pants and a jean jacket, no shirt and no undergarments. Classy. So I pulled on my ridiculous pj pants, buttoned up my denim jacket and ran a brush through my hair in a feeble attempt to look somewhat decent.

My thought was to stop at home on my way in, but before I could even think about getting to work on time, I had to deal with The Fugitive. In my hungover state he somehow convinced me to allow him to stay in Michele’s room for the day and I would just pick him up after my shift. (PS The Fugitive had no cell phone or car. And let’s not forget that he had twisted his ankle the night before and had no health insurance, so walking anywhere was definitely out of the question.) So I said goodbye to The Fugitive, packed up my shit and snuck out without waking Danny or Michele.

As I was driving to my parent’s house I remembered my mom hadn’t left to work summer school yet and there was no way I was going to stop there with the chance she would see me in this state. I could only imagine the questions and judgement. So I turned the car around and waited in a parking lot until I knew she had left the house…After I knew she was gone I swung by the house, picked up some clean clothes and by some miracle of the lord above, made it to work on time.

I remember thinking I was literally dying because I was so hungover that morning at work. After I looked in the mirror, I do believe that both my employees and customers also thought I was dying. It was a couple hours into my shift when I received a call from Michele, who was also working with me at the store that Summer. She was calling to inform me that unfortunately she couldn’t get into her room because The Fugitive had locked himself in there, so she would be in late and dressed in her mother’s clothes. She showed up in a pair of oversized pants, baggy t-shirt and a bra three cup sizes too big. It was HAWT.

I left my shift as soon as she arrived, picked up The Fugitive back at her house, dropped him off at his friends’ place and haven’t spoken to him since. Occasionally I see him around the hometown, but haven’t engaged in any sort of conversation.  You’re probably wondering why I call him the fugitive if he had already spent time in jail when we met…But about a year after this happened I found out there had been a warrant out for his arrest the Summer I was with him. I’m not sure of the details, but, hence My Affair with a Fugitive.

P.S. It was only within the twelve months or less my mom found out select pieces of this story. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to now know the details…OGKHMILY.