I am never really bored.
But I am done with my pilot.
I’m actually done with MY part.
Just waiting on Russell to cross check, and recheck…and then, he will send it back to me. And then, I’ll do my changes. We will “discuss” and fight about what’s funny. And what’s stupid. We will go around and around…and finally meet in the middle, or some shit like that. And then, we will be finished. Russ and I will have the most perfect pilot ever. Ha. Well, we will be as close to perfect as perfect can get. We are a pretty good team, the two of us. He is brilliant, and poetic. Smart, and seasoned. And I am well…I am, me. I have a big-ass mouth, and a bad attitude which comes across in my writing. Duh. You read it, and I think you get it. So, Russ cleans me up. And makes me all pretty, and stuff. Wowza, he has quite the job don’t he? He is the potty-mouth-washer-outer. If I could give him a big-ole pump soap to just squirt all over the pages of our screenplay…I swear to Goddess I bet he would. But then, what fucking fun would that be to watch?
Every show needs a little sex. And smut. And every show needs a girl with a vulgar mouth and a big rack. Even if she paid for it. Anyway, here I am. You knew I wouldn’t stay away for long. And I finished kinda quickly! I’m like super-fast at writing, especially when it’s all up in my head. I just have to get it out. Like diarrhea …it just has to come pouring out of me. Can’t wait. Can’t hold it….so, I’m here. Hi! Hiiiiii. Hi. Whatever, hi guys. Whatcha been doing for the past 3 weeks? Anything good? I’ve been dating like a fiend. Bunch of Match.commers. And to be honest, I don’t even feel like talking about them. They don’t even deserve my ink. Text. Type. Fuck em. My sister and me, have been discussing it all, this dating shit…and we have come to a conclusion. Wanna hear it?
I need to get a thicker skin.
Yes, I do.
I need to grow a bigger set of balls if I’m going to survive dating in this Internet World. Chutzpah from the Hood just ain’t gonna cut it anymore, y’all! I”m going to need to really man-up, and grow a set. No more crying like a little bitch when I hear for the umpteenth time that I’ve been lied to AGAIN by the fucker that says he’s “off Match” when he’s not. Why do I care? Fuck him! I’m staying on, too! And no more whining like a wam-bulance when he says, “Oh, Jen…did you expect me to stop sleeping with other women?” No! I don’t care, loser! Fuck her, if you want. But you won’t be sleeping with me…EVER! This vagina is OFF LIMITS. But you won’t hear about it. I’m not going to even bring it up anymore. Nope, not me! I’m turning over a whole new “dating-leaf”.
It’s called, I’ll do what I want…when I want, and it’s none of your dang business.
No more crying. Or whining. Or bitching. And no more looking like a psycho when I’m only acting like any sane woman would act in this fucked up cyber-dating world. I mean, come on people! Be real. Hey, I’m no saint. I actually accused a really great guy of lying, and hurt his feelings. Badly. He was exactly where he said he was, he was at work. He had to cancel a date, and I thought he was lying. Because I was burned so many fucking times…I didn’t trust him. And I lost a really, great thing. Fuck, I am embarrassed to admit it. I literally called him out. And he put me in my place. He told me we were done. And I knew I fucked up. He’s awesome, and deserves a killer chick. He’s geographically undesirable, yes. And he smokes, gross. But omg, he’s awesome. I will regret it for a long, long time. Dammit, Janet.
But hey, we have to learn from our mistakes, right? I have to trust again. I just have to. I’m jaded, sure, but there is a man out there that will prove me wrong. Shit, I hate Match, and Tinder. Bumble. I hate all of it. But unfortunately, as a single mom…where else am I going to meet guys? It’s not like I have a chance to hit the bars, and I don’t work at Wells Fargo. I’m not asking guys out at Starbucks. I’m just not. This is the world we live in. I’m shit out of luck. Or hey, maybe I’m in luck? Maybe I will find a great guy on one of these sites…
Or maybe, I won’t. Hell, maybe I am destined to just run into him at Harris Teeter in the frozen food section. While I’m buying my Chubby Hubby Ben and Jerry’s. He will reach in, to get his. And I’ll reach in to get mine…and our hands will touch. And we will both be freezing our fucking asses off. Oh, how cute. And my nipples will be hard…and he will say, “I love your stiff…”
Jesus, I need to get laid. ;)