TAINTed Love

“Oh yeah. I’ve heard of that stuff. I know sometimes cyclists use it. Do you use it for cycling too?” 

“Well yes, but mainly for my taint area.”

This was an actual conversation I had, on an actual date, with an actual human male a little over a week ago.

And I don’t know about you ladies out there, but it’s pretty much always never been my dream to hear those sweet, sweet words pouring out of my date’s mouth as I’m getting ready to put another chip, heaping with guacamole, into my mouth.

Ah…romance!

I should probably back up a little and provide some backstory, right?

Basically it’s this: I’ve started dating again and I still despise online dating as much as I ever have. More, really.

I’ve been on quite a few online dates in my adult life, two of which actually resulted in long-term relationships.

Although,  I mean, look how well those turned out.

So of course I decided to give it another go...and I ended up on a date with a guy who told me about his taint cream.

Taint cream....

TAINT.

CREAM.

And then had me pay for my dinner.

(But I mean, I wasn’t expecting dinner AND a show, so I guess it was worth it?)

My lotioned-taint Lothario was actually the second person that I went out with in the past month or so. 

The first was a 34-year-old professional pedicab driver emblazoned with a tattoo of a giant eyeball (to commemorate his recent cataract surgery...duh) and who wore a screw as an earring.

In the middle of the date he pedaled us off into an alley where he proceeded to pee and then roll and smoke a spliff. At the end of the night he left me stranded to find my own way home from Bucktown so that he could go to a late-night electronic music festival afterparty.






Needless to say, I think this all might just be the Universe's way of saying, "Stop it. Enjoy your summer."

Point taken, Universe...

...and I'm sorry you had to resort to talk of taint cream.

Excuse Me While I Eat My Feelings

Premenstrual Syndrome? More like Premenstrual SNACKTIME!
(Am I right, ladies? Hormones make ya say, "Mmmmmm!")

Liberty, Ladders, and Laxative Tea

I didn't take any 4th of July pictures, so I made this crappy drawing of fireworks for you.
I know. YOU'RE WELCOME.

I was going to write a post about how this 4^th of July was super meaningful and monumental in my growth as a mature, self-confident, all-around-badass and woman (and it was)—but let’s face it: that shit is really boring and emotional. And I just don’t feel like that’s the way I want this post to go.

4^TH OF JULY is a time for eating grilled food, drinking copious amounts of beer (or, in my case, wine from a box) and blowing shit up. It’s about excitement and happiness and ‘Murica and freedom and bald eagles riding on rockets piloted by Uncle goddamned Sam himself.

It is not a time for explosions of sentimental emotion and personal reflection.

Which means here’s what you need to know about my 4^th of July: I got to spend it doing what I wanted to do, which meant that I found myself on a Chicago rooftop, drinking, dancing, and laughing with friends, listening to music, eating vegetarian hot dogs, and filling up a kiddie pool.

Have you ever seen fireworks with a panoramic view that stretched for miles on a rooftop in Chicago?

If the answer is yes: 

Right?!

If the answer is no: 

I'm so...so sorry for you. 

Next year, find a rooftop so that you can watch thousands of fireworks (and dollars, really) explode across the entire horizon for hours on end. (Pay special attention to Indiana and the suburbs. Those folks know how to party.)

If I had one complaint about this 4^th it would only be this: when you spend it on a rooftop, there are ladders. And unfortunately for me I had been having some issues and decided to drink some Smooth Move tea the night before. (I’ll let you figure out what that tea is good for. You’re smart enough.)

Wine + Smooth Move Tea + SO MANY LADDERS = a very cumbersome situation.

Wine + Smooth Move Tea + SO MANY LADDERS + one very cold and lonely leftover hotdog = I'm so sorry, L, but I dropped my hotdog on your bed halfway up the first ladder. Don't worry, I came back down for it...but...my half-eaten hotdog was in your bed for a hot minute.

And I laughed alone about it for like 5 full minutes while looking down from that ladder. 

Anyways...'MURICA!!!