The Over-Educated Nympho

After deciding I had not been completely lame in “pursuing” Neighbor Guy (”pursue” got quotation marks because it’s a very restrained type of pursuit as far as what I’m used to), I came back to my senses and went back on course.Tonight I called him again. Last time was Monday night, followed by miscommunication/weirdness Tuesday night.

Went to voicemail. I said something like “Hey Neighbor Guy, it’s Vix. Just checking in to see if you wanted to chat or hang out but I guess you’re busy right now. Give me a call sometime. Whenever. Bye.” Not great, but not the genius-ness from Monday night either.

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Tonight I had my interview with Steven Devadanam, writer for the Houston Press and the blog editor of HouStoned.

It went very well. It was actually fantastic fun. So much fun that after our thirty-minute interview was over we kept chatting for an additional forty-five minutes. We were two peas in a pod, talking shit about what we thought the other peas were doing in their pods.

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Seriously. Who lets me do my own talking? I mean, it’s one thing if you’re drunk and you drunk-deal an ex or think you’re leaving a voice message for your best friend but oh no it’s actually your boss.

Those situations can be controlled. Either don’t get (that) drunk in the first place, leave your phone with a friend, or have a friend monitor your calling/texting. No biggie.

But me? What do you do when you’re just an idiot? And a desperate one at that. Wear a tshirt that says I LOST MY SPEAKING PRIVILEGES and then when a cool guy tries to talk to me (undoubedly to ask me WTF with the shirt) gesture wildly and point at the shirt then run away to my room and think about what I’ve done?

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I was just browsing through the archives, discovering how very many posts there have been in the last fourteen months since I started the blog. It’s kinda fun to flip through the old posts and find such a wide variety of stuff, most of which I had completely forgotten about:

How to End a Bad First Date
Real Romance Smells Like Sweaty Feet
The Office Candy Bowl: Cheap Bastard Edition
Ode to Creepy Old Men
Just a little sumthin’ About Me
Where I Come From

Um, so if you didn’t get the hint—GO PLAY IN THE ARCHIVES. There’s loads of great stuff amongst which to frolic happily with puppies and unicorns in a field of wildflowers and mosquitos.

Come on, you occasionally work hard, you deserve a couple hours of recreational reading. Every day. Here. Starting now.

Whenever there are three close friends who frequently go out together, it usually breaks down like this:

The Pretty One
The Funny One
The Sweet One.

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