Writing about boys or my actual feelings it not really my thing here on Big Butter but sometimes is ok right?
So, 3 years ago I had my heart ripped out by the Cuban. So I did what the magazines say and took a year off to “find myself” which worked out fine for the first year, I guess. No dates, no nothing. Good so far right?
Aside from a good yearly breakdown, I have been totally fine being single. I started going to school again and have a great outlook on life. There is a guy that I really like but he has his head up his ass so what can I do. That was a big kick to the ute. Whatevs.
This brings us to last weekend…
I decide I need to declutter/organize my condo. So I pick out this gigantic bookcase from ikea, destroy my art studio area to make room for it and go to get this bookcase.
I get my huge cart and go to aisle. Then! I get a how-have-you-been kind of email from the ex . I haven’t spoken to him in a year! Not since I told him I would have him arrested for stalking and possibly shoot him with a tranquilizer gun. I delete it and focus on the bookcase.
Ok 3 boxes, ok. Then I see in big red wording along the package “THIS ITEM REQUIRES TWO PEOPLE TO ASSEMBLE”. And that’s when all hell broke loose in Ikea.
The combination of being on the verge of cat lady syndrome + the ex’s email + the cluster fuck of liking a dude and it not going anywhere + THIS ITEM REQUIRES TWO PEOPLE TO ASSEMBLE = Complete nuclear meltdown in Ikea aisle.
I screamed FUCK THIS! (outloud) leave my cart, call Irma, crying & spitting out a million words per second.
Me (all in one breath & bawling/laughing): DUDE! Thisfuckingbookshelfsays I needTWOpeople! I DONOTHAVETWOOOOO PEOPLE! GODDAMNIT! and******emailedme!WHY! OHBECAUSE ITS HISBIRTHDAYTODAY! FUCKHIM! FUCK!FUCK!FUCK! Whyhave I doneallthisfuckingwork tobehappywithmyself andfigureoutshit justto getshitonat Ikea! And Iactuallylike****andhe likesme! Butweare never gonnameet! I dontneedmorefriends! I needafuckingperson to helpmeget thisfuckingbookcase togetherbefore I become a hoarderandstart shitting inWalgreensbags! Andhavedeadcatsin myclothes! fuckthisshit! I leftmycart intheaisle& whyam Icrying!whatthefuckishappening!!!! ButI’mNOTok apparently! Becausethis shit, thisshitthatisgoingdown rightnowwww isn’tOK!
Irma: Umm, Maria.
Irma: first. Did you take your meds?
Me: WHAT! YES!! AND FUCK YOU! My life is crumbling in IKEA damn it!
Irma: OK OK! I just wanted to check because sometimes you know you don’t get them with the mail order and all…
Me: ya that’s true. Sorry.
Irma: Ok, slow down…and what the fuck did you just say? Ikea? the dude? A bookshelf? Dead cats? An email? Its your birthday?
One of the first dudes who “winks” at me is this gem.
It’s the COMBINATION OF WHEELCHAIR & HIS LAVISH KNOWLEDGE OF WOMEN.
You’re an “EX-PIMP”? And your name is “GOLDIE”?
“she don't need illumination, (she glows in the dark)” I know what illumination means, thank you.