how to cheat on your girlfriend

dear velveeta:

it was good to hear from you. im glad that youre doing well and have finally moved in to your own place. you mentioned having a girlfriend, and while i hope that things are going well between you, it doesnt sound like they are. you seem to be a little confused about how relationships work; allow me to explain: all social interactions are dictated by rules of etiquette. some actions and relationships, however, are intended to remain private, meaning your mother probably never taught you the proper place to hide the panties you stole from one night stands, or that emily post has never issued a ruling on how to properly broach the topic of initiating a physical relationship with an ex while in the middle of an emotional relationship with someone else.

so, allow van nasty to spell it out for you: only one of us is in a relationship. as that person, the responsibility is on you to make sure that your girlfriend doesnt find out that you have been propositioning me. i do not have the power to erase your text messages or emails; assuming you dont want to get caught, you alone can keep your house in order.

frankly, you are not worth inviting that type of drama, not to mention horrible karma, into my life. since i have no desire to come back in my next life as a dung beetle, i suggest you not contact me again. on the off chance i do want to see you, i can wait till youre single, which, based on the fact that youre emailing me, and your girlfriend knows it (and snoops through your emails), is probably a matter of weeks if not days.

xoxo
v/n

spring in australia

which is to say, my life is boomerang city. its been my experience that boys never really go away so much as they go into hibernation. lately, ive been feeling like its time to make some decisions about dewey decimal; ive been downgraded from "girl i date", but upgraded from "girl i avoid," meaning im now forced to navigate the uncomfortable and landmine infested grounds of "unsatisfied girl who wants more but is afraid to ask for fear of getting nothing." rarely do i put forth this much effort (and am possibly only doing so now because i know it wont work?) or let things drag on this long. so while im debating whether i can be satisfied with just being friends, a few boys from the past have come out of hiding. i spent about an hour today chatting with velveeta, who is currently imprisoned in a relationship but is requesting conjugal visits from me, and from another nickname-to-be-determined boy from the past. they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. clearly the voodoo dolls arent working; maybe its time to take drastic measures.

snowflake this

when i was an intern at that national organization for women, everyone had to take their turn working at the now store where we sold t-shirts, buttons, bumper stickers and the bitter, man-bashing attitude was free with purchase. i had heard stories about "the mad masturbator" who would come into the store, whip off his pants and pleasure himself right there in the store in front of whomever happened to be working at the time.

i did not expect to witness it first hand, however, as is my luck, i did. he came into the store and the woman who i was assisting quitely said, "oh shit," stepped to the back and called the police leaving me alone with the mad masturbator.

when the police arrived they hauled him out in handcuffs assisting him to walk, since, y'know, his pants were still around his ankles. we stood outside and the cop couldnt help but laugh as he called it in and said where he was. if i recall correctly, his quote was "this guy had no idea where he was walking into!"

but lets be honest. he did know, and he did it on purpose. maybe he wanted to humiliate the evil feminist lesbians in the store, or, maybe he likes humiliating himself in front of a captive and disgusted audience. everyday we face people who catcall, who call us snowflake (which lets face it is actually kind of cute, and downright charming compared to ignorant white bitch), who think that being a single female walking alone down the street, waiting for a bus, sitting at the bar, or dancing at a show is an invitation to talk to us, or touch us, or offer commentary on our outfits or our bodies. or, in the case of the homeless man who approached me at sparky's, offer to sell your hair or your body (it was unclear which he had a buyer in mind for).

well, hollabackdc, and let these fools know that men can be dicks, and women can have balls.

its pretty much a given that i will be cleaning green vomit out of the elevator tonight

i really, really hate st. patty's day. really, really, really. i cannot stand drunken thirty-something frat boys wearing green, plastic mardi gras beads who are wasted, obnoxious assholes by 5 p.m. and dont even get me started on the green shamrock headbands.

mind you, i didnt feel like this last year when st. patty's day was on a friday night and i got to be one of the drunken masses wondering around drinking green beer and singing irish folk songs, instead of having to deal with them while im at work.

actually, a year ago tonight is when i met velveeta. he bought me many, many shots at dans cafe where they give you shots in a liter-sized tupperware bottle and two shots are more like eight. i "broke-up" with him in october when i thought things were going really well with dewey decimal; oh those salad days when i was green in judgement and cold in blood. now, im lucky if dewey answers his phone when i call, and velveeta has a girlfriend. ive tried to work myself up into a frenzy of pity and righteous indignation, but, i cant seem to muster the energy. i blame the cold medicine. well, that and the fact that im relieved that velveeta and all his cheesy freakishness is now someone else's problem.

hitting my head against a wall: less painful

following a long standing tradition, valentines day, or as i like to think of it, "singles awareness day," came and went without much fuss at van nasty. last year i took myself to see brokeback mountain; at one point, i was the only person in the theater not giving or receiving a handjob.

this year's plan was bellydance class followed by the sex workers art show. unfortunately, sex workers, like sugar and witches, melt in the snow so the show was canceled. ditto with dance class. instead, hellyeah, a-lee-see-a, and i indulged the twelve year old girls we are on the inside and watched benny and june and ate chocolate and drank wine between fits of hysterical laughter. not to mention, i am now the proud owner of a snap bracelet made from a real baseball. which, for anyone keeping track, is the closest ive come to a ball (athletic or otherwise) in a very, very long time.

valentines also came and went with no word from dewey decimal, not that i had expected it (even if i secretly hoped for it a little. or a lot). i called him last night so we could engage in the most awkward conversation ever, and because he's him, and im me, things are even more confusing now than they were before. normally when someone says they theyre surprised to hear from you, its not a good thing so i have to assume thats the case here too. we talked about doing something monday but no plans were made. we agreed to check in today, but im not sure if im calling him or he's calling me.

the a.s. once called me socially awkward. doesnt even begin to cover it.