Tag Archives: drunk

How Did You All Get Here?: Relationship Edition

Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s back! That’s right, people KEEP FINDING US without meaning to. And, those people keep on being just so very weird and troubled. They are dating losers, their friends sound like real jerks, and a lot of them appear to have cold sores. It is an honor to count them as our own.

Here, for you, are some of the most recent searches that directed people to our blog.

Actual Search #1: “can you get a cold sore from someone passing gas in your face”

Catherine: Why are you hanging around this person?? DID THIS REALLY HAPPEN TO YOU?

Jana: Ok first of all, no. That’s ridiculous. Secondly, let’s talk about this relationship. Was this whimsical, or was it cruel? Take a look at the situation and really assess. And then either way, probably, get out of it and never look back.

Actual Search #2: “what did i do in my past life to deserve not to have a boyfriend”

Catherine: This is so tragic. I want to reach out to you through the internet and hold your little hand. He’s out there! But he may be, or probably is, dating somebody else.

Jana: Oh noo. I’m so saaad. Person, you’re probably ok! But with that attitude, it’s just not gonna work out for you. Be less sad. You’re making me sad. Stop it.

Actual Seach #3: “will he love me with cold sores”

Catherine: Less so.

Jana: Yes! Yes! Yes! (not guaranteed).

Actual Search #4: “why do my friends tell me to be loving when my boyfriend is cold fuck it”

Catherine: You’re confusing me. Fuck what, exactly?

Jana: Your friends are wrong maybe? Or, what do you mean by “my boyfriend is cold”? If he’s cold as in, calls you names and beats you, then your friends are very wrong – don’t be loving, the guy’s an asshole! If he’s cold as in, doesn’t buy you diamonds, but does make you dinner, then maybe you’re just a bitch.

Either way, it seems like you’ve already made up your mind, as you didn’t even put any extra punctuation around “fuck it,” implying that you’ve just decided to fuck it with no hesitation.

Actual Search #5: “get drunk enough to call her”

Catherine: PUT THE PHONE DOWN. If you wanna talk to her so bad, call her sober. She probably doesn’t want to talk to you though, you sound like a real mess. Go eat a Snickers or something.

Jana: Good idea man. That’ll definitely work. Do it.

Actual Search #6: “how to get your first kiss in elementary school”

Catherine: JESUS Christ. If you aren’t even wearing a training bra, you need to apply the brakes. Chill the F out and watch some SpongeBob.

Jana: I am not qualified to address this question.

Actual Search #7: “can u give someone herpes if u suck their wily when u have a cold sore”

Catherine: This is too gross. I’m sure the answer is yes? And please don’t refer to that uh, thing, as a willy? And if you do, spell it right? But don’t call it that, ever. So actually don’t worry about the spelling. Refer to it as a “lollipop,” “hot dog,” or “cheese stick.” Food items work best, I find.

Jana: CATHY EW THOSE FOODS AS PENIS WORDS MAKES ME WANT TO DIE.

Reader: Yes, you can, so don’t do it. Also, if you call it a willy and you spell it wrong, you’re not even allowed to leave the house. You have to stay home alone, forever. Sorry.

Actual Search #8: “we had sex in a neck brace”

Catherine: On one? Wearing one? Too vague, but you have my attention.

Jana: Impressive.

Actual Search #9: “if your a straight guy in a bathroom and no one’s home what are some sexy hot and very naughty things you could do to your self”

Catherine: Learn to spell?

Jana: Why do you have to stay in the bathroom if no one’s home? Don’t punish yourself just because you don’t know the difference between “your” and “you’re.” Get out there and use those other rooms! But um, I have no idea what you should do in them. Usually when I’m home alone I make a bowl of brown rice and eat it in bed while watching stuff on Hulu?

Actual Search #10: “do we need to isolate with people who have cold sores?”

Catherine: Isolate with? No, that’s not a thing. Isolate, yes. Isolate people with cold sores, but if you are WITH them, that’s not isolation.

Jana: We’re not LEPERS, and this isn’t Nazi Germany, so NO. Let’s isolate with from YOU. YOU need to be isolated with. I dislike you.

BONUS SEARCH: “i’m allergic to dust and but not to cats”

Catherine: THANK GOD! How many cats do you have? I live with TWO cats. Do you have more cats?? Are they so cute and do they cuddle with you in the morning before work, often making you late?

Jana: Stop complaining? Go hang out with your cats and invest in some medical masks for when you have to dust stuff. Your life is awesome, so leave the google search alone.

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If You Like a Boy, Let Him Know. Drink A Lot First.

Catherine: Jana and I like to drink, that should be clear by now. Sometimes, we drink too much – this, I feel/fear, should be obvious. Anyways.

The summer of 2010, several of our friends moved into a large, run-down piece of shit house that was self-titled “The Butchershop.” Our friend had found it on Craigslist, where it was advertised as “an artist community” which meant “some of us are in a shitty metal band, and the rest of us like to get high and draw inappropriate things on the walls.” It had been all guys, but then, through a series of events, the top floor had slowly become vacated – enter our three good girl friends, who quickly moved in.

It became clear, as the months wore on, that there wasn’t more than one roommate who could correctly name everyone else.  Once, someone made a sign listing the residents. Of our friends, they correctly identified one, completely missed the mark on the second, and simply wrote “etc.” for the third.

Second line from the bottom: “Sabs, Max, Abbs, Etc…”. They got two out of four, guessed on the third, and then just said fuck it. Etc.

There was a boy living on the second floor, let’s call him Jake, that I thought was a DREAM COME TRUE. He had adorable freckles, a wonderful quiet yet sexy disposition, and an impossibly gorgeous face – for. reals. He also read books and was realllllllllly into tea. Being “into tea” myself, I figured we might be soulmates. Him, being really, really, really hot and me bring really into deep stuff like tea and books.

Suffice it to say, we never spoke.

Until one night. I got nice and boozed up on the third floor and headed back downstairs to get some ice. On the way back up, I noticed that Jake’s door was open, he  inside. Logic escaping me, I let myself in. Putting on my best sexy/coy act (this is a painful thing to watch, guys. It is ROUGH.), I drunkenly blabbered on about how I really liked tea too. And what books are you reading? Oh, Vonnegut? He is GREAT. What an amazing writer. I loved “Slaughterhouse 5.” What was my favorite part? (Drunkenly searches mind for anything having to do with a book I just lied about having read) (Fails) You know WHAT. I THINK YOU ARE CUTE, I say. Yea, I think you’re a really interesting person. I’m not just saying this cuz I’m drunk, I’m hardly drunk at all! (Lies, lies, lies.) Jake blushes his adorable smile. I seat myself on his bed and he imperceptibly moves his chair further away. No matter. This goes on FAR too long. I finally excuse myself and run upstairs to tell my friend of my misadventures, where I am met with “SERIOUSLY?” and “GOOD FOR YOU!” She was drunk, too.

Jake and I never spoke again.

Jana: Ohhh Cathy. Cathy, who loves tea. Or, in my experience, drinks tea sometimes but not frequently? Anyway, yes, Cathy was obsessed with Jake, strangely freckled boy of the second floor. I didn’t personally see the appeal, but I DID one time stop her from RUNNING home from a bar to confess her love for him. As I recall, we made it to the field behind the Butchershop, where I was able to get her to stop, sit on the baseball diamond, and just tell ME about how beautiful he was, instead.

I will also just say that during our summer at the Butchershop, I once overheard one of the young artists who lived there (whose name, of course, I did not know) say this: “Texting is like saying: ‘I wanna go halfsies on a baby with you, but I ain’t gonna pay for SHIT!'”

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