Wordpress Switch

I am really trying to switch over to WordPress (keithcrowdercia.wordpress.com). However, my stubborn nature demands I do it all by myself. Getting the blog posts over was easy peasy. It’s the “making it look nice” feminine thing that is killing me! Also, how do I get wordpress to accept the domain name I bought? Wouldn’t we all like it if I was www.desireeaubigny.com?

I will be up an running sooon.

At Home & Why I Love DC

I am from Chicago. I effing love Chicago. Last night proved to me that I love DC even more. Don't get me wrong the Chi has some unmistakable, incredible charm. Growing up in Chicago (ok, the greater Chicagoland area but 5 minutes from Rogers Park, I swear!) I appreciate the city so much every time I go back. The last two times I even questioned the state of my DC affairs. 

Should I live in DC when my whole family is in Chicago?

Should I crack and go home and date guys from high school and be one of those people? Ok, no, but had to throw it out there for the "dating" bit.

Shouldn't I yearn to be home?

Last night I went out with an awesome friend from college, who just moved to Chicago and I was so excited to see him. I left my house at 4pm to get over to Roscoe Village and hang at a cool dive bar. Lemme tell you this, it took an hour and twenty minutes, 80 EFFING MINUTES, to go 7 miles from my house. Reverse rush hour, too. 

I missed DC, wholeheartedly. The traffic here would drive me insane. Pun intended. The EL is not so great, not that Metro is the bar of excellence but the EL doesn't hold a candle to it. Suddenly, I hated the small feeling when walking around the big buildings. Where once the size and grandeur used to impress me, I found it less enrapturing than the entirely visible beauty of DC buildings. I hated the now-lost charm of the spread-out-ness. When once I wanted to live in every neighborhood in Chicago, I know realize I wouldn't be as satisfied in any. In DC, I can name ten neighborhoods I would reside in, immediately.

Before I left DC for my family visit, I chatted with a friend about how it is easier to go out in Chicago because the neighborhood-centric mentality creates easy socializing. Last night that dream died. The city-planning and street mapping seemed nonsensical. The idea of going out on the town seemed impractical. From Rogers Park to River North to Wicker Park and back again? I think not.

I miss DC. It is finally my home.

Work Fart

Today I totally farted at work. Not in the gas passing way, though. In the brain/judgement way. No smell, still gross.

I have this problem, some people call it gullibility and others call it implicit trust. I honestly, just can't deal with pushy people on the phone. So when they are lying to me on top of being pushy I am at a complete loss! Would you mess with this girl?

I didn't think so. For some reason, some *person* reporter out there wants to run a story, cue 

throat clearing, I control that. So, out came this girl:

And she's all like "say what!?!" 

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I am going to put my foot down and snub someone. At work. I can control my shit. I will make the work fart dissipate. 

Was that sexy? I hope my boyfriend reads this.

The First Serious Break-Up

My beloved cousin broke up with her boyfriend John, who I basically hated, this weekend. Thank hallelujah! I mean, I feel kinda bad for her. Although, she did the dumping on him, she has been reduced to a blubbering fool. When I broke up with my First Serious Boyfriend there was no crying, pleading text messages or copycatting of Facebook status updates (yes whenever he posts a status update she posts the same effing thing like it's Highschool Musical or something). My break up was more like finally I needed a break from you so now I am going to go out and party big time!!! but for some reason she is all like the first cut is the deepest *sob* I want to kill myself. Lame.

John may have been her high school sweetheart, but since they graduated and went away to college he has become an asshole of epic proportions. It had long been my fear that she would date her verbally and emotionally abusive boyfriend all through college... 

Please join me in a round of applause because she won't. 

I found out in Italy that I'm not the only one who has this fear. My whole family hated John for showing up at the house black-out wasted (he is almost 19) and screaming at my cousin about how they broke up this one time they broke up in high school. Turns out, he would do this every time he drank. It really sucks. She was always, CLEARLY, too good for him. She put up with earfuls of shit. Since they broke up she is super fatalistic. Why?

Part of me thinks she was so excited to have a guy fall in love with her that she just took him (I might have been guilty of the myself with my First Serious Boyfriend). Neither of them understood the gravity and responsibility it takes to make a functional relationship work. Methinks he was not a good communicator and meknows my cousin isn't one, either (ie: Tell me, tell me what's wrong, why won't you tell me? I think you are cheating on me).

I also suspect there was something a little secure about him being a "notch below" her. Like she wouldn't have to worry about him breaking up with her. Like she could get away with pointing out the Harry Winston ring she would have to receive from him at her college graduation party, all. the. time. Yes, like that. 

I mean, check out his Facebook information page:

Doesn't that just explain why I hated him so much?

I suppose that might need explanation in and of it itself: I come from a major metro area, we are not into rodeo, we do read, I do not "kill um and grill um", I do not condone DUI's, I do not know what God and Cowboys have to do with one another but I'm sure a whole lot of snarky comments can be made out of that, and, though, I have peed in my yard it is not one of my "interests" on Facebook. My cousin included. Cringe.

Pleasing News in Friend Land & Other Oddities

Thanks be to the dating puppetmaster controlling the loins of all who lustfully warm each others beds. 

Yes, yes. Scarlett and G.I. Joe have broken up. Actually, she sent him packing back to his mama. Literally. I am not close enough with her to delve into the full details, it is quite recent. Hopefully, in the future I will learn more about the circumstances leading to her kicking him out of his house. Not to pry, but to revere in another pathological liar biting the dust.

In other news, the Blogger Happy Hour was fabulous fun. I finally got to meet Lilu (!!!), and Restaurant Refugee, a blogger that I have admittedly been curious about for some time. Many others that would result in endless tagging. Everyone was wonderful and I could not have asked for more. 

Big day tomorrow. Jack's mom's birthday. More family time, eek panic attack. I am still nervous around the family. For me, it never stops. First Serious Boyfriend's parents always put me on edge despite the fact they loved me and I spent countless vacations and summer breaks during college with them. I wish I could get over this parental fear, it keeps me hushed, quiet= dull, right?

Alas, it is off to bed for me. In addition to birthday festivities, I have to work a photo shoot tomorrow. Must get my beauty sleep. 

Meet Desiree!

And what are you doing tonight?

Usually, a one trick pony Desiree Aubigny will be making an appearance at THE Blogger Happy Hour, tonight and for one night only. Maybe.

So get on your best kicks and flashiest "yes I am a blogger" look because we are going to boogie down tonight.

Thanks to Lexa, Lilu, and Restaurant Refugee for hosting this happy meeting of bloggy-type minds!!! 

Confession... I am already so impatient to get my ass over to Evolve that I may not get any real work done today. I also wore a going-out-in-Adams-Morgan outfit to work. Yes, 5-inch heels and skinny jeans get a "walk of shame" look at 9:30 in the morning. 

Hope to see y'all soon!

When Your Friend is Dating a Pathological Liar

Clearly, I have a little experience with the world of pathological liars. Not everyone is as blessed as I am. Well, I am blessed now because I can recognize the curse of a liar-liar-pants-on-fire from a mile away. My problem is I have a friend who is dating a pathological liar. Let's call my friend Scarlett, like from Gone With the Wind. Her boyfriend has a totally generic name like Matt or some crap but for this story lets call him G.I. Joe. 

The first time I met him, he immediately reminded me of Keith. He even looks like him a little bit. If that wasn't enough, he spouted off a similar life story (FAKE). I don't want to say that it is easy to lie about being in the military (because who wants to question service to our country) but I am, and Keith embellished his to me and G.I. Joe is, too, I think. Other men do it, if only because the first person to raise a red flag about possible lies will undoubtedly be harassed. The possible embellishment about being in the Navy and confirmed kills, yada yada, is not even really an issue for me. I will never know the truth behind his military service but the rest of his life is super questionable and it makes my skin crawl like nails on a chalkboard.

Specifically, it's the detail that he goes into about his business that he owned, which went bankrupt. Apparently, he was so rich and owned X amount of properties. He has grandiose dreams about jobs in private security and some oil thing that are always falling through, it's too much. Dreaming big I respect, but this guy is just dreaming. He didn't own hundreds of properties around DC at 26 with no college experience, no friends as far as I know (he is always coming by my work and hanging out with my colleagues-WTF?!?), and no real skill set. I've only ever seen him in one outfit, grown men, formerly successful men at that, do not wear the same pair of board shorts everyday!

The detail always gets me, Keith used to talk about his best friend that lives in some huge house that had this panic room, and all this crap about how he could hack anything with his super computer. These stories really make me look like a flipping idiot. I think he got off on me nodding and saying yes to his lies so he went into the minutiae and he did this for EVERYONE (my cousins, my boss, my friends). 

Well, G.I. Joe is currently unemployed. Living with my friend Scarlett. Telling my friends and colleagues fantastical stories about how awesome he is. I can smell the bullshit seeping out of his pores. I don't want to hear another tall-tale ended with a chuckle and some self-deprecating stab at how easy it is to be him. IT IS. Lying is a fucking easy way of evading everything that is real. Sorry the real life is so tough. (Deep breath). I hate him.

I so very badly want to ask her if she ever thinks that he might be lying to her. If she possibly realizes that he is a pathological liar. I want her to know that she could cry on my shoulder, after I kick the everlasting shit out of him.

I hate that I can sense his lying nature and that he creeps around the fringes of my life.

EDIT: okay, just realized I posted yesterday that I hope I don't have to put up with this shit in my new blogger year. Well, maybe if the assface hadn't shown up today and made me miserable, I never would have blogged about his pathological freakness. Errrr!

The First Day of a New Year

On August 2nd, 2008, I snapped. A couple days before, Monday, July 28th, I called my then boyfriend Keith to talk to him about the awkward weekend we had spent visiting my childhood friend in Raleigh, North Carolina. The trip had been odd. So, Keith broke up with me, over the phone. Apparently, he had wanted to break up with me at the Avett Brothers concert we went to, and back at my friend's house, and in the car ride back to Virginia on Sunday, and when we showed up at EK Fox that night (where he worked) so I could help him wire something fancy shmancy that he said was for the CIA, and even later that night when we were on his couch watching TV. 

**Side note: I know it is rude to have a blog named after I guy I used to date in retribution of the fact that he broke up with me but there is a story behind it**

I was irate. He had so many chances to break up with me in person, but he had to break up with me on the phone! Only a weak man doesn't have the balls to break up with a girl in person; especially, someone as harmless and laid back as me. I said, "Ok? Ok," and hung up on him.

At that time, my cousin threw out the idea that maybe he broke up with me because all his lies had caught up with him (wow my cousin is smart). The audacious lies really were starting to become obvious. I KNEW he was lying to me and never called him out on it. My friend from Raleigh confirmed this. So did several websites like Intelius and Degreeverify... 

$100 later and I was able to say without a shadow of a doubt that he painted a pretty picture of his life for me and it was far from the truth. For some reason, I cared more about the fact he broke up with me than how much he lied to me. I think it bothered me even more that a pathological liar would not want to date me--what?!?!  The relief that the crazy man was out of my life was overshadowed by a possible flaw I had that drove him away.

Since then I have had many dating disasters, dated some winners (ahem, losers) like Cyrano. I got stalked and harassed by G. Overall, I put myself into a lot of weird positions, not in the dirty way. 

I hope that this new blogging year is not as ridden with trials and tribulations, as funny as they were when I look back now. I still have fears that nothing will ever be perfect. I wonder if I will ever have children. I wonder if I will ever have a stereotypical life. Mostly, I don't need that. I was close, once, to the whole kit-and-caboodle with my First Serious Boyfriend. I don't see it happening like that now. In some ways, the changes in my life have been for the better. 

Hey, one year since Keith almost destroyed the concept of having a man in my life forever (though I will never date a guy who lives in Fairfax, VA). At the very least, it's good that I can think positively of having the companionship of a boy-person. It's not bad all the time...

Hopefully, no more pathological liars in the near future. 

The Couch

Yesterday, I told y'all some great peeing stories and gave you a sweet pic of this off-white couch on which I crashed many a night when I started dating my First Serious Boyfriend (aka the guy I dated all through college). Well, the night we met it was instantaneous clicking and I was so in to him. Like puppy dog love x 10. 

That fated night will never be forgotten by my iron trap memory (it's effing awesome and you should be jealous). Oddly enough, my soon to be Numero Uno passed out on the couch before I was ready to hit the hay even though it was prob 3am. I'm a night owl, what can I say? So, his best friendsy in the world (the lone NOLA guy who followed him from his itty-bitty Metairie h.s. to college) immediately attempted to pull the moves on me with a little game I call this:

"You don't want to sleep on the couch anyway, it has been 'pissed' on so many times." 

Sidenote: I don't really like the word "pissed" though I understand its place and meaning I am a lily-white girly girl that prefers pee, unless you piss me off and then I will bitch you out like the Italian I am.

True: The whole couch peed upon thing worked

True: The guy I was head over heels crushing on slept on the pee couch, I slept in the same bed with his best friend from high school

True: I slept on the corner of the bed (ON THE EDGE, ALMOST FALLING OFF) and refused to scoot closer to him even when he said:

"Hey, I got a queen sized bed here, you don't have to sleep all the way over there."

and

"I'm not going to bite, you can move a little closer."

That said, I did neither. When the soon-to-be bf in question rolled into the bedroom in the morning he was irate with his best friend for "getting with the girl he liked" and I was totally misrepresented for being in the same bed with him... BUT, the dorms were across a big ass field in a neighborhood I was not yet completely acquainted with, during winter break when security was not full force, and I didn't have my mace.

I didn't want to sleep on the pee couch. Until I did for like a semester straight, how things change. The best part of the story, in my mind, the guy who was trying to pull game by getting me away from the ill-fated couch (that I eventually spent many a night on) became my best friend and my bf and him lost touch, prob over me. I am STILL best friends (as hard as I try cuz the non-bf has issues, still) with both despite all the arguments, sexual tension (fuck yeah sexy tension), and my subsequent move to get the hell out of that drama (3 years later). 

The pee couch unalterably changed my life. It, in a way, gave the man who was my First Serious Boyfriend, for 3 1/2 years at that, a reason to fight for me a little harder. The effed up shit his best friend resorted to, in order to have me in his bed for the night, became the demise of their friendship. Both of them, saw me through my worst and what once was my best, but I am shit-tons better now. Holla! I still have a huge heart for my ex, we went through some things that no one should have to go through and I rely on the only reasonable response for someone in that situation; I blame my parents!!! Tee-hee. Don't do what I do.

Men are interesting creatures. They pee the couch. For some reason that imparts passion on my account. I am a sucker.

Hence, I sometimes date pathological liars.

TMI Thursday: Couch Peeing

As my friend Lilu over at Live It, Love It says:

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Now get ready, my darlings, for the ever popular, yet gravely feared, TMI THURSDAYS…

I am not a stranger to TMI's about PEE. Nor are my TMI compatriots. But what if it isn't your pee? And what if you wake up with it all over you?

I have a couple friends who are infamous for couch peeing. In college, there were about 3 or 4 boys that I was often hesitant to let crash the couch for their reputation. Still, I am not one to turn away someone who is so drunk they can barely hail a cab. I had plenty of Resolve and Fabreze on hand for when the unfortunate incident arose.

My brother once peed on his printer and the carpet in the corner of his bedroom when he thought he was in the bathroom. At least it was an area of the carpet no one ever looked at. I got caught by my parents peeing in the backyard (and I swear on my life the culprit was too much coffee)! But nothing beats the drunken couch peeing. 

I dated a boy who was fabled for pissing the couch.  

There he is and that is the couch* in question, too. Once, when he was passed out, his friends duct taped a trash bag diaper on him. One night, he peed the bed and the couch. Ouch. If he ever did shots, or drank any hard alcohol it was likely he might have a little accident-poo.

Still, drinking beer didn't always deter his issue. I must say the best night of all was the night we partied at LSU (Geaux Tigers!). He and I slept on the futon and what went down prior to our sleeping was, literally, just like this scene from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia: 

Lo and behold, in the morning he had peed the futon we were both sleeping on and somehow I missed it. We slipped out with our friends back to NOLA and halfway home we got the fated phone call. He was accused of golden showering the lovely white couch. He swore he didn't, even saying, "If I peed, Desiree would be covered in pee, too. I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't do it."

I totally understood his logic and actually believed him. I waited until we weren't in the car with disbelieving friends and getting breakfast at Jack in the Box to discover that yes. He. Peed. The. Couch.

Again and again, I dealt with his couch peeing. We don't date anymore but if we did I am sure I would have invested in Depends by now. 

The Couch* 

I have a story about the fact that this couch had been peed on so many times. It actually has to do with a urine based pick-up line that I will share tomorrow. So stop back and you will hear more about The Couch at the Grove Street Apartments, fondly called the A-P-T's