The Tale of the Napkin Boy

Have you ever been sitting at a table on the sidewalk with friends on a nice summer night enjoying drinks when all of the sudden some random person says, "Excuse me, sorry for interrupting" and slips you a napkin with his/her name on it and their phone number?  Yea - me neither - unless of course you are my girlfriend, Jen.  Because this is exactly what happened to us last Friday night (ew - I just sang that in my head like that stupid f*cking song by Katy Perry - not a fan).

So, here we are, sitting outside of Bar Louie in the CWE enjoying our cocktails with another guy from my class.  All of a sudden, random dark headed boy interrupts our conversation, drops the napkin and leaves.  Seriously?  SRSLY?  Did that just happen?  Why yes, yes it did.  We couldn't believe it.  Jen and I were awe struck.  That was one helluva ballsy move.  So as Jen sits there blushing, we continue to gush about what just happened. 

First things first, we check out the area code.  Shit.  407 - that's definitely not good ol STL.  Immediately googling it, we find out it's Orlando - which supports his handsome Latino looks.  He must be a transplant to the STL area.  I ask Jen if she's going to text him and she says, "Of course.  What do I have to lose?!"  Precisely. 

So I get a text from Jen yesterday and our conversation goes something like this:

Jen: Napkin boy lives in New York.  Typical.
Me: Bullshit.  WTF.  Why did he even give you his number then?  Did he think he could fly you up for a weekend rendezvous?
Jen: No idea...it's kind of annoying actually.  And if I am really being honest, it makes sense, STL boys would NEVER approach a girl like that, if at all.

So riddle me this - guys, why the hell would you give your number out to someone like that, get her excited and make her feel flattered if you knew there was absolutely no chance.  WTF was this dude thinking?  Did he really think he was that hot and that smooth that she would text him immediately and hook up with him while he was in town then she'd move to NYC and live happily ever after (seriously doubt the last part, only the first)?  Seriously? SRSLY?  I just don't understand the male species.  Someone please explain.

Once again, proof that guys are idiots.

-Stay Sassy, xo

Live from Dallas | Part I | Have You Missed Me?!

Week One

It's official - I'm a Texan.  And by "official" I mean only for the next 5 weeks, still with my Kansas DL, Kansas plates and an apartment sitting in St. Louis.  If you're feeling a little out of the loop - quick update - I'm dong an elective rotation at Children's Medical Center Dallas in the emergency department with my fabulous friend PA Fisher.  Last week was my "vacation week" which constitutes the only week during clinical rotation year that you get off - as in not work, not sexually.  While some of my fellow classmates spent theirs in Mexico and Florida, I spent mine moving down to Hot as Balls Dallas, TX.  My mom, Marley and I made the 7 hour trek last Tuesday in my jam packed TSX and spent the rest of the week running errands for my procrastinator Uncle - whom, bee-tee-dubs I adore...just sayin'.  Apparently men don't like to furniture shop and assume just because women love to shop, we must also love to shop for bedroom furniture...for someone else.  Wrong.  I enjoy shopping for myself and myself only...oh and for all my friends who have babies (that shit makes me teary eyed).   After two days of driving around Dallas/Plano searching for the perfect dresser, night stand and head board, he of course settled on the very first one we showed him (btw, my awesome single uncle is recently divorced from a nut job who took the guest bedroom furniture - hence the unfurnished bedroom).

So, as you probably have caught on to - you smart little cookie, you -  I am staying with my handsome and did I mention? fun and single uncle in North Dallas.  So far, so good.  We've done some grilling out and sipped on a few glasses of wine.  Even better, he let me bring Miss Marie who is adjusting rather well to the Texas heat with her butchered hair cut - no making fun.

Friday I dropped my mom off at the airport and spent the rest of the day lying by the pool working on my tan lines before heading to HH.  There, I met my first true Texan friend.  She's just precious...and I mean PRESH.  Picture Texas chick and you picture her.  Bubbly and blond.  Sarah and I were the first to arrive at the Mexican restaurant we decided to fancy for Skinny Bitch Margs and chips, salsa and guac.  All the sudden bubbly, blond Texan plops down in the booth and says, "Oh my God, y'all! It's so f*cking hot out there!"  I knew from then on we were going to be friends.  I died when I heard her Southern twang and then peed my pants a little when she said the f-word...because if you've ever had a convo with me (unless your an elder to me and I was doing my best to behave) I have quite the potty mouth at times.  We had great conversation the rest of the night - much of which I can't recall.

Then, just like that along came Saturday.  I again, woke up and plopped my ass by the pool for a little sun as I sobered up just in time to go out again.  Saturday night was spent in Uptown with a mutual friend from Kansas City who just made the big move down to Dallas.  I randomly ran in to Nathan in KC before I left and found out he was relocating.  From that moment on, it was decided we would be Kansas Partners in Crime.  And that we were.  We spent a few beers catching up on the last few years of our lives in KC.  I met him through my ex-boyfriend and you know how that goes - once you break up with the loser boyfriend, you break up with his friends too - so I hadn't seen him too much since then.

We hit up a few bars and after a few vodka drinks my sass started to come out.  Weird.  Imagine that.  We met some random guys and hung out with them for the rest of the night - mostly because we couldn't get rid of the little Cub Scout and his friends.  Cub Scout spent the entire night hitting on me.  I repeatedly thanked him for the compliments, but no thanks.  Clearly (hence the nickname), Cub Scout was a few years younger than me and I tried to explain to him that I wasn't interested in dating anyone who I potentially could have babysat as a child.

We finally made a mad dash and ditched him and hit up another bar.  I'm just going to preface this with saying, I was NOT a hot mess.  A few cocktails - yes.  Drunk as a skunk on the forth of July - no.  So as we approached the last bar, I finagled in my Marc Jacobs bag to find my ID.  I'm not sure if the door guy was more pissed that he was 20-something and still just a door guy or if he just hates Kansas.  I flashed my DL and headed in to the bar.  As I was walking in...seriously like FIVE steps, I kind of rolled my ankle - any female who wears heels - especially a short little shit like me who wears at least 3 inch heels at the very least knows how easy it is to slightly stumble SOBER.  Apparently pissed off door guy thought I was wasted out of my mind and proceeded to stop me and tell me I was done and had to leave the bar.  Seriously?  SRSLY?!  I couldn't believe him!  I wasn't even that intoxicated - clearly because I can fully recall the story. I looked at him with disgust, spit in his face and left....KIDDING.  I did nothing of the sort.  I tried to explain that I had tripped over my own feet but he was not having it.  Whatever dude.  Sorry you hate life.

So with that being said - it took me less than one week to get kicked out of a bar.  Reallllll classy.

I think this post has gone on quite a bit - maybe too much.  But considering my uncle doesn't have internet at his house, my posts will probably be few and far between while I'm in Dallas at the local Starbucks.  Keep checking back and I'll let you in on the HOTTIE Southern gents (straight out of a Vineyard Vines or Polo catalog) and a few of my stories of working nights in the Emergency Department...kids do the darndest things!

-Stay Sassy, xo

I'm Baaacckkkk

Another six weeks is over which also means my DanVegas sightings and Royal Donut days are over.  I am back in Kansas City for 6 weeks and couldn't be more excited.  My life is pure HAPPINESS right now!

Photo courtesy of
www.brooksiderbarandgrill.com

To The Brooksider:  Thank you for the wonderful welcome back last night and for over serving me.  You never cease to amaze my liver with your endless amounts of Vodka Redbulls and tequila shots.  I will admit, you got me good last night - HUGE shout out and massive THANK YOU to Erica for being kind enough to lend me a hair tie and pat my back while dry heaving....sorry TMI.  But, on a slightly more positive note... I have great news to report.  I didn't get kicked out!!  As many of you may or may not know, I've ran my mouth once or twice.  I'm really good at getting accused of doing crazy things like throwing drinks (WAS NOT ME) and ice (yea, that was me - but we were playing catch).  I look forward to many more dance offs in the Boom Boom Room dancing around like a high schooler on the verge of losing her virginity.

Welcome back toast!

Jay, Me and Abra

To My Friends: I couldn't be happier to be back in KC for the next 6 weeks and am so excited to see everyone more frequently!  Dallas is going to have some big shoes to fill this summer to get me to leave you all and move there.  You all are what makes me love Kansas City so much.  I love my friends and I love, love, love being constantly surrounded by Jayhawks.  I'm still getting used to not freaking out when I see Jayhawk anything on other cars.  I love the feeling of being home, knowing where I'm going and seeing familiar faces no matter what hot spot I decide to frequent (which btw, I need to try all the new restaurants while I'm here, so let's get started).  So here's to many more evenings of fun and laughter together.  Cheers!

-Stay Sassy, xo

P.S. Usama bin Laden is dead.  Hopefully Donald Trump will accept that spelling.  

I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T...Do You Know What that Means?

So here I am, sitting at a bar...all alone...in the lovely town of Danville. At the rate I'm going, I'm going to be a regular at Buffalo Wild Wings. Just as I predicted, I'm posted up, at my own table, with a Coors Light, a dash of salt, Fried Pickles...and my computer. I'm not sure if the stares that I am getting are because a.) I'm alone; b.) I'm using my computer; c.) I'm wearing a JAYHAWK shirt; or d.) all of the above. My shirt alone is enough to get a rise out of someone considering I'm only 30 minutes from the University of Illinois (where Bill Self coached before KU and our most recent opponent, who we BEAT - as if you weren't aware). I promise you, I'm wearing my Jayhawk shirt with PRIDE!!

I'd say my stats are pretty good. Since I've been here, I've made friends with the next table - although our conversation started with a Jayhawk insult and some guy just asked me for my number. I politely turned him down. And just for the record - he had all his teeth.

Lovin' America, Buffalo Wild Wings and lovin' my Jayhawks on the corner TV in the back.

-Stay Sassy, xo

Excuse me...have we made out?

Remember when you were in college and it was the start of a new semester?  You walk in to the lecture hall and find your seat.  If you were like me, the first day of class you were always a good 10 minutes early - just incase.  If you were late, forget it...for the purpose of this story you were on time.  Just as class is beginning to start in the lecture hall of 500 students, a few final stragglers come walking in through the door....some still smelling like last night's drink specials.  Distracted by the door, you realize
the last guy (or girl, depending on your gender and preference) to walk through the door looks extremely familiar, but you can't put your finger on why.  He sits down next to you or within the vicinity.  For all intensive purposes, in this story, he sits right next to you...and you start to get a little nervous.  You're positive you know him from somewhere...but you just can't recall.  Then again, you and your roomie did have a few too many cocktails this past weekend.  Oh well.  Your professor's voice babbles in the background as you attempt to finish the UDK crossword puzzle and read up on the latest Free4All calls from the previous weekend when all of a sudden....BAM!  You remember!  Your heart starts racing...you feel your face flushing as you realize in your mind, "Shit....that's that guy I made out with at bar close a few months back."  You exchanged numbers that night, he texted you a few times, but nothing really came of it.  Then a few months later...of all places...he sits right next to you in class.  You sigh as you realize it's going to be a long semester....

Flash forward to present day.  This whole scenario... yep...that's exactly how I felt this past week.  I was minding my own business walking through the halls of the hospital when I passed a man in scrubs whose face looked awfully familiar.  But why?  I continued on with my day.  And then I realized....shit...that's the guy I made out with several months ago at bar close.  The rest of that hazy night and its events begin to come back to me.  I remember him telling me he worked at the hospital.  We swapped phone numbers and exchanged texts a few times before we lost touch.  Due to busy schedules we were never able to go out for drinks.  Did I ever think I'd see him again?  Absolutely not.  But of course, much to my surprise I am now continually running in to him and have seen him 3 times since then in the past two weeks.  Each time we politely smile at one another and walk by continuing on.  I'm not sure if he even remembers who I am.  Even if I was slightly intoxicated and visually impaired that night, the good news is he's gorgeous stone sober.  Maybe next time I'll speak up and say hello...and maybe I'll see if he's still open to the idea of happy hour.  But then again...maybe not...

-Stay Sassy, xo

True Life: I have PGV

PGV | Party Girl Voice | NOT an STD

I would like to introduce you to a new term I heard while driving home from class recently.  I frequently have my XM radio tuned to Cosmo Radio and this day in particular Cocktails with Patrick was airing.  I cannot recall the exact conversation, but Patrick was either talking to a caller with PGV or was talking about PGV.  


What is PGV you ask?  Party Girl Voice is an interesting attribution not all females can possess.  Those who are lucky enough to acquire PGV are very distinct in themselves.  You've probably all heard it.  And if you've ever spent a weekend with me, you are sure to know what I'm talking about.  If you haven't ever encountered PGV, let me describe it to you.  PGV is a sure sign of a great weekend.  After spending this past weekend in Vail, CO skiing and hanging out with my college roomie, I returned to STL sporting PGV.  Typically, I start developing PGV late in the evening after a few Jack Daniels cocktails (or any cocktail for that matter).  By the end of the night I sound like I've smoked 10 packs of cigarettes (I am not a smoker) and sometimes can barely get a word out.  It takes skill to perfect PGV.  Lots of dancing and having lots of fun!  It does not necessarily limit itself to the holidays and cold winter months, but with holiday parties, NYE and no school for me, it's sure to make an appearance more frequently.


One of the most infamous PGVs is that of Kristin Cavallari.  I can specifically remember an episode of The Hills when the group heads to Miami for the Super Bowl.  Kristin stays out partying all night and precisely displays the raspy voice characteristic of PGV with perfection.  Kristin has been known to enjoy herself out and about in LA and cities across the United States.  And who can blame her?  She's hot.  And she's young.  She deserves to live it up while she can.  There's always time to settle down in the future.  But for now, rock that PGV, Kristin.  And own it! 


That brings me to this...I've heard conflicting reactions to PGV.  My question to you...trashy? Or sassy?  Either way it doesn't really matter.  I can't really control it no matter how hydrated I stay or how much I talk while out at the bars.  This past weekend, Kel and I encountered some guys in Vail who couldn't get enough of it and thought it was awesome we sounded like men.  They may also have been gay...I'm not sure.  This wasn't the first time we've been together and have been approached regarding our voices.  We frequently encountered the same situations all throughout college and continue to any time we get together.  Bottom line whether you find it attractive or not, PGV is a sure sign of a good weekend with my best friend.


-Stay Sassy, xo


Still not sure what exactly PGV is...check out this clip from The Hills

The Hills - MTV Shows

11 ways to make an ex think you're crazy

REJECTION...one of the worst feelings in the world.  We've all be there.  At some point in your life I can almost assure you've felt rejected.  Additionally, I can also bet every one of us has either been broken up with or has been a heart breaker.  Either way, it's usually never easy.  We all have different levels of "experience."  Me...well I'm what they call a "love-aholic."  Since the age of 16ish, I've almost continuously been in a relationship with a guy at some point - if we weren't  "officially" together, we might as well have been.  BUT...I am proud to say I have now been officially single for almost 7 months and I am loving it...for the most part.  Meeting new guys and dating has been very exciting, fun and interesting, to say the least!

Back to the point of this blog...ladies...you must admit, we can all be crazy.  And if you can't admit that...well then you're lying to yourself.  Going through a break up sucks, especially if you're the one being rejected (ugh, I hate that word).  

So you've just been broken up with.  You're miserable.  What's next?  A google search of course..."How to get over an ex" returns 106,000,000 results (0.18 seconds). I mean, seriously?  You're emotional...the last thing you want to do is forgive your ex and move on.  Well here's what NOT to do (well unless of course you want him to think you're crazy)...and yes...I will go ahead and admit over the course of my "dating life" I have done each...prospective men in my life...watch out.

1. Text him.  So this is the most obvious.  You broke up.  So stop communicating.  Yea...easier said than done.  Resist sending him the I miss you text, the You must be missing me text, the Thinking about you text.  And when he doesn't respond - for obvious reasons - don't then call him and cry to him about how miserable your life is without him.  Also, if you're in to it...resist sexting and sending nudes...even if it gets you a positive response.  You'll end up feeling worse about yourself...trust.  Instead - delete his number.  And if you're really lucky, you won't have it memorized.  And if you do...well you better have a better plan than I do.

2. Force a mutual male friend to text him to tell him how hot you look.  The situation: he's not out or he's out of town so you devise a fabulous plan.  You don't want to text him because you're avoiding number one (See above) but you think it's a fabulous idea to have your friend text him for you!  Let's face it.  We know you look hot, but avoid trying to make him jealous.  You'll only feel good about yourself for a few hours...and you risk looking crazy to your mutual friend (who secretly probably already thinks you're a nut job).

www.jayhawkcafe.com

3. Go to his favorite bar with a group of guys hoping he'll see you.  Again,  you obviously look super hot - just in case you might bump in to him.  You go with a group of guys and bat your eyes at them all.  Even if you don't see him, you're guaranteed to see one or several of his frat brothers who can pass on the word they saw you...with a group of guys...and of course you looked so hot. Just as you had planned.  You're hoping the next day he'll call you and ask you about it, admit to making a huge mistake, then beg you to get back with him clearly so you don't start dating one of the new guys all his friends saw you with.  News flash: NOT gonna happen.  


4. Refuse to give back his favorite shorts he left at your house, his boxers or his high school baseball tee.  I know what you're thinking...right after the break up you're trying to keep any attachment to him you can.  As you're cleaning out his drawer or gathering all his crap he's left at your place over the past 3 years you decide to keep that one thing you love sleeping in.  When you make the dreaded exchange, he asks you where his favorite blue shorts are...you say, too bad...they're mine.  At this point, he's through dealing with you and let's you keep the damn things.  Instead: burn them.  Start a fire and burn the shorts, the boxers, and the tee and roast a marshmallow while you're at it and make a smore.

5.  Take your dog on a walk in his neighborhood.  Even if "his neighborhood" is technically also "your neighborhood" or a few blocks over, don't go on walks hoping he just might see you, stop and say hello, then realize what a big mistake he made and beg you to get back with him.  It's not going to happen.  And if he does see you, he's going to think you're stalking him.  No bueno. (Thank God he never saw me, or at least I don't think he did).

6. Drive to his house, sleep in his bed, puke in his bathroom.  This is particularly crazy when you arrive only to find he isn't home.  But because you were together so long, you know the code to the house or know where the spare key is - so you decide to "surprise him" and make yourself at home...he should be home shortly, right?  The bars just closed.  WRONG.  This is even more embarrassing when he won't answer your phone calls or texts, he never shows up and you wake up thinking "WTF did I do?" So you sneak out of the house before sunrise only to be later informed while you were there you puked in his bathroom and left it.  The most important point of this all, no matter how crazy you are trying to look...don't drive after drinking (thank God I got lucky). 

7. Send him messages with links to tragic country love songs.  This should be particularly avoided when each week you "come across" a "new" song that reminds you of him and/or your relationship and send a new one to him...every week.  It's even worse when you know he doesn't even like country.  Although you think it's cute and you think maybe it will spark something...it won't.  He isn't going to respond and tell you the song brought back memories and now he thinks you should get back together.  So save yourself the sappy song and let down...what guy truly likes love songs anyway?

8. Stalk his fb profile.  While you can get away with excessive stalking in the privacy of your own home, you cannot get away with making obscene posts and status updates...especially after a few Jack Daniels cocktails.  You'll only look crazy the next day and feel like an ass.  Additionally, once you refrain from the posts, avoid freaking out over who the latest broad is that writes on his wall and don't text him asking who the f*ck she is - because he'll lie anyway and say she's just a friend.  Instead: defriend him!  Unless of course you have it all together and can look at his profile without even the slightest bit of jealousy.  Good luck with that one...you're one step ahead of me! 

9. Break in to his email.  Although you're positive you'll find exactly what you're looking for...it's probably not the best idea in the world.  I will admit I have been successful in the past...and I did find exactly what I was looking for...it wasn't pretty.  Now, not only do you look like a complete psychopath, but you also have most likely lost his trust.  Even more embarrassing...when the attempt doesn't work.  He falls asleep...you sneak out of bed...but this time he actually logged out of his account...you attempt to get in anyway...no luck.  The next day he asks you why he got an email stating someone was trying to change his password...BUSTED.  Instead: if you suspect something, it's probably true.  Go with your gut.  Especially if the guy is in his early 20s...most likely he is hiding something because he's immature and thinks he can play you because he's gotten away with it in the past.

10.  Make a stupid picture with a quote.  Enough said.  Just don't do it.  You'll spend too much time doing it and he'll probably just delete it.  No matter how creative you think you are, it won't change his mind.

11.  Blog about him.  He's sure to think you're a complete nutso.  Do it anyway.

-Stay Sassy, xo


P.S. Thank you to all my exes who shall remain unnamed who've allowed me to look like a crazy bitch over the years.

What's in a Signature?

So today's "blog" isn't really much of a blog - sorry folks, I know you were sitting on the edge of your seats anticipating what screwy thoughts were running through my head since yesterday - too bad.  You'll have to wait another day.  Don't worry, I already have a few topics for my next several blogs including but not limited to what my dog would say if she could talk for a day and how to make an ex think you're a nut job.  Hopefully you'll be entertained.  If not, whatevs.  Sorry boutcha.


With this new blogger I've become, I feel that it is only necessary that I create the most perfect signature for my posts - and it's up to you guys (the 5 readers I have as of now) to help me create one!  I've received a few ideas from friends from school but I want to see what everyone else thinks as well.  Of course I want it to be something unique, catchy, and clever.  Something even that describes me to a "Tee"...but also fits in with the theme of my blog.  I am sassy (especially after a few Jack Daniels) and I'd like to think on most occasions I keep it classy...and finally I am fabulous...no matter what that one girl said about me or that ex who clearly sucks said...so start racking your brains...and vote above or leave me other ideas in the comments section.


Coco Chanel said it best,

But, I say, "A girl should be three things...Classy with a side of Sassy & Fabulous"

Until then....um, signing off?