Life, Liberty & Pursuit Of Your Boyfriend

(OK, not today, but yesterday…)

I learned that Shady McS may not be that shady, and he may or may not be too hot for me. Regardless, I need to figure out a new nickname. He flew into town last night, and asked what my plans were. Then he met up with me and the bloggers at our hoppy Blogger Bash. First, how awesome that a) he wanted to see me again b) he wanted to hang with my peeps AND he did not make fun of me for any of my drunken antics. It’s not often that the blogging community has had a glimpse into the behind-the-scenes action of Mel in action. (I’m still a loser, honest).

OK, so I like this guy. Honestly, he’s surprised me by not being a douchebag. Nice compliment, right? Maybe I am fucking jaded. And if he’s doing all this just to get in my pants, well, he’s doing the right things to get in my pants, albeit, he has a ways to go. By the by, I did tell McS what I wrote about him. After reading my “Life, Liberty…” nametag, it prompted a discussion as to what I blog about. He was amused to say the least, but now probably reading this. Awesome. And why in the world was my nametag on the headrest of my back seat this morning?

I learned that maybe PDA is underrated. OK, it’s not, but I was that mother-fucking person again last night. Perhaps it’s my years of forsaking making out in public, that I feel immensely obligated to make up for lost make-out time. God, I sound like a fucking idiot this morning. More coffee…

I learned how to pronounce Maredsous the correct way (finally). I’m sure everybody at Bar Cento is equally as impressed. Or not. Everest brought a few samples to me after drinking three — yes, THREE — Maredsous(es), and I selected the Dogfish Head Midas Touch (it was refreshing for some reason). And what in the world was in that shot, Chef’s Widow? Holy crap, I just remembered I drank water from the large water bottle on the table. The classiness continues… AND what was this strange cider-concocted drink I drank? Who ordered that? (Did I?).

I learned that exes are pussies. Yes, pussies. Get over yourself already, Waffles.

I learned that I cannot sing Bob Seger. And singing with strangers on karaoke night is probably not a way to make new friends. (I can’t even remember what song I performed with them! LOL). Who gave me balls last night?

You know, essentially I learned nothing more than drinking on a school night does nothing for a productive workday (or brain, for that matter). I am so happy I don’t have plans tonight.