*blue balls not included.
Yeah for Mario Lopez. Douche-bag extraordinaire just got nominated by People Magazine for its Hottest Bachelor issue. Do you remember when I met him four years ago? Just gross. He was nasty then (inside and out) and is even more disgusting after his barrage of blah reality shows.
Consider this your kick in the ass, Slater. Sealed with my vomit.
Update: The night mentioned from 2004 when I met Mario Lopez. My friends and I went to Tramp in Cleveland. (Remember that crap-hole?) While we were up in the VIP section with all the cool kids, I ran into a mutual friend that worked for his entertainment/publicity/management firm (they were there together that night). After chatting for a few minutes with my friend, I put my hand out to introduce myself to Mario because, obviously, everyone who was a fan of “Saved By the Bell” in their tweens KNOWS all about A.C. Slater. He just looked at me and rolled his fucking eyes. He could not even bother with his lowly peons to say hello — nothing. I wasn’t acting all fan crazy or asking him for a picture or autograph, so I could not understand what was his problem. Just a total jackass. So, since I felt he needed to be one-upped and bitch-slapped, I started screaming, “Look everyone, it’s A.C. Slater!!” over the music. Of course, everyone was looking toward us in the manner as if a fight had just broken out or something. Yes, I stooped to his douche-bag level. Then he walked away with his shriveled little penis between his legs. Good riddance, Major Douche-bag.
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This blog is about pursuit: a transplanted Clevelander (me) in a new city (that's you, Pittsburgh!), pursuing the role of a self-employed copywriter, becoming a roller derby badass and somehow merging all my to-do items into one ever-growing Bucket List.
And of MY boyfriend. His blue balls started this mess.
