Miss Lippy Time

Sepparation of body and head

Twist until the morning light

Jim Brickman, blanket world, bed.

I have 3 exams next week

Perhaps I’m very screwed

But I can’t pass up a taco night

That would be very rude.

Whenever I was frowning you knew just what to say

Standing in front of me waiting for the Sunrise Express Bus

Catching my hate rays.

Er homar for patatas bravas

Always hit the spot

Que tranquila las terrazas

Cien montaditos rocks.

Brussels was ridiculous, a wild, crazy mess

So much absinthe, I can’t see!

Chi Chi’s buffet passed the test.

Time to buy some costumes at the corner chino store

“Do I look like a lesbian?”

“Yes. You do. For sure.”

Tingas, Gringas, Conchinitas, Tequila and Sangrita

Put them all together for some happy señoritas. 

Journey down the circular towards the center of the earth

Wish we’d just walked up to cuatro

A euro down for all self worth

Flying up to McDonalds for a McPollo and McFlurry

“Hey are you awake? We can make McDonalds breakfast if we hurry.”

Skipping around the streets in Sol

Where to next? We both would shrug

Even though we always knew the answer would be DUBS.

Coming home in perfect time to steal absurd amounts of baguettes

Pizza baguettes, lentil soup and pot pie, lest we forget.

Taking a break from heavy bass, we’d sit around and yawn

Then perk back up with energy to lip sync some Celine Dion.

Running around in Kapital

So many floors in which to hide

A zebra running through the African Bush

With my little snail on the side.

Every relationship is like a story. There is a beginning, a middle and sometimes an end and most of us have many stories to tell. I celebrated my 23^rd birthday last week and during the 48-hour hangover I endured after my birthday party I thought over the many “men” I’ve let into my life.  Some of them were and will only be friends, but many and most of them were all of that and more. Bad boys, co-workers and next-door neighbors, undeniable chemistry, short flings and real love. The relationships you find yourself in are dysfunctional in their stability and full of truth in their lies. We have all been courted, we have all gone after what we want and we have all been picked up and let down. But, without trying to sound like a Carrie Bradshaw column title, in looking at the perception of men and women in relationships, what are the rules of the game?

When you meet someone and hit it off, does anything go? Should you wait before sleeping with them or should you do what you want to do? Do you take things slow and steady or do you win the race? I have a lot of friends that are guys, because I prefer crude humor, drinking beer and laughing when people fart, but I am in fact a woman and therefore as much as I make fun of girls, my perspective on this topic is tilted in the female corner.

Girls are all a little nuts. I am the first to admit it. We overthink, overdress, over analyze and care way too much about pretty much everything. We think guys want us when we don’t want them, we think saying how we feel will mean anything after a relationship is over. We think that if a guy doesn’t call, it’s because he’s “too busy,” we think they don’t care if our legs are a little prickly and we think that men will sit and laugh with us when we lip sync to Celine Dion songs with our friends in our living room. Like I said, girls are a little nuts.  But how many insensitive, narcissistic “dudes” do we run through before we stop and ask ourselves, “What are you doing?!?” It is so easy to blame other people for the circumstances you find yourself in, but at the end of the day, you make your own choices and can only find yourself accountable for your actions, because this is your life.

So, the rules are, there are no rules. If it’s right, it will happen. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, so if you are in a relationship that is making you question or doubt yourself, then you need to get out of it and run away! You are the voice inside of your head; you are the one that makes your decisions, so if someone else if hurting you, don’t let them. In the words of the wise and hilarious Katt Williams, “Life is too mother fuckin’ short!” It’s okay to be single and if you meet someone and they never call, don’t fuckin’ sweat it. Have fun and be happy with yourself. There is nothing more attractive than self- confidence and if anyone tries to question that, well… they’re an idiot. Don’t change yourself for someone else because it will only hurt you in the end. So go sing “Push It” at Karaoke and don’t look at the screen for any of the words, because you probably know them all and if you don’t, make up your own words. Keep dancing to the beat of your own drum and people will keep dancing with you if they can keep up with the beat.

When I fly I tend to pack an hour or less before my flight and usually I am somewhat intoxicated when I begin my packing endeavor. This usually ends up with me wearing the same sweatshirt for the duration of my trips. I am also a repeat offender of forgetting to wear socks on the day of travel, leaving me barefoot to tip toe through the cesspool of a security line, like I am walking on hot coals. Then I have to wait for the wanna be Tina Turner in front of me to walk back and forth through the metal detector as she slowly removes the bling suit of armor she decided to wear to the non existent delta fashion show.

I cannot for the life of me understand how women can wear stilettos to the airport. My outfit of choice usually includes sweatpants, clogs, Uggboots or some other hideously comfortable shoe. Except for crocs. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! NO ONE SHOULD EVER WEAR CROCS!! I don’t care how comfortable they are, you still look like an idiot. If I’m meeting someone I would like to look sexy for, I’ll put some damn make up on when I reach my final destination, maybe.

Now onto finding your departing gate. After walking past every fast food stand, cinnabon city, electronics r’us and sam adams tribute to whatever the fuck city you’re in, you finally reach your gate. You look around for an open seat, avoiding the weird looking foreign dude and lady with 12 screaming babies until you find a seat to stake claim and pray that you don’t have to sit next to any of the fat, wendy’s munching, screaming babies currently in your general vicinity on the airplane. And then you wait for your “zone” to be called. Every airline except for South West are a bunch of retards. You have a ticket, you get on the plane, you pick a fuckin’ seat. BOOM! Stop making me feel worthless because I’m in zone 4.

Then there are a plethora of seating situations you may encounter with your “row mates” Some of my favorites include, the arm rest hogger, the ‘i love to hear myself talk about my kids, my cats, politics and whatever else I am currently observing’ lady or gentleman, the over the shoulder reader of whatever book you’re reading or content your looking at on your laptop, the post break-up sobber, the medicated open mouth breathing sleeping zombie, the sleep apnea king and finally the chronic ‘excuse me I need to get up and stretch my legs/use the bathroom guy.’

While all of these glorious people and situations are a standard part of air travel there is one which is the greatest and most satisfying of them all. Being able to fart as loud and as often as you want without anyone hearing or knowing it was you. So the next time you board an airplane, take all the reoccurring annoying travel incidents in stride, sit back, relax and fart away.