Couples.

I fucking hate couples. Now I know most of you are thinking, she's part of a couple! Damn right because it works for me. I get laid on the regular and I have a permanent drinking buddy whenever I am bored. Just because I am in a couple, doesn't make me stupid. So if you read this and get annoyed (which will be about 80% of you), it's because you are a part of these couple stereotypes that are slowly making me want to kill myself and just be ok with the world ending because no one should procreate.

#1. CrossFit Couples

First off, let me preface how much I hate the whole CrossFit culture. I am all for staying in shape and living a healthy lifestyle...wait. No I'm not. I love to get wasted and smoke ciggarettes but that is besides the point. If you want to be healthy, good for you. Just PLEASE stop jamming it down our throats with your stupid competitions. "I lifted 300 pounds 234 times and rolled 3 truck tires on their sides!" Unless you're the Wicked Witch Of The East and plan to have a fucking house fall on you and you have to push that bitch off, I am not impressed. What would impress me if there were those dog obstacle courses for people, then I would watch you be Wreck It Ralph over here. 

So when two things I hate join forces (CrossFit and women) I tend to get a bit angry. The worst is NO WOMAN STARTS CROSSFIT HERSELF. I repeat. No woman does CrossFit herself without her man pushing her. "Come on babe, lets get shredded together and compete so we can pin our Pinterest boards with those cute pictures of couples working out together. I'll climb a rope with you Koala-ing me and it will be so fucking cute." SHUT UP.  For the love of God no one cares that you work out together. I'd rather watch a movie marathon streaming Glitter, Gigli and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter than see you doing CrossFit together.

#2. FaceBook Couples

For some reason, the holidays tend to make people a little crazy. AKA they don't want to be alone because God forbid they can't blast my newsfeed with what your boyfriend got you after dating for a month. Some food for thought though ladies, if your man buys you anything Tiffany's, he has put in absolutely ZERO effort in thinking of what you want. For some reason women are absolutely obsessed with that Tiffany box and men think it can get them a solid blowjob. Anyway, the couples I am referring to are the couples that feel the need to blast their ENTIRE relationship on Facebook. 

"I LOOOVVVEEE my baby! @SomeJabrone, you are my world!"

"My baby bought me (some thoughtless gift)! He is the best boyfriend EVER!"

"It's mine and @GiantPussy's 19th month anniversary! Celebrating going to Chic-Fil-A!"

....come the fuck on. If you were really truly happy in your relationship, you wouldn't have to broadcast to the world how "happy" you are. AND the rest of the FaceBook community doesn't give a flying fuck about your relationship. Relationships are meant to be private and at the end of the day it is only you two that matter in the world. The only reason why you post shit like that on FaceBook is because you a) want his ex to see how InSaNLy HaPpY you are, b) you want everyone to know that you are the happiest you have ever been yet you have lost all your friends and now resort to play with your cat and make your boyfriend spaghetti or c) because you are insecure as fuck and FaceBook is the only outlet you have to share your poor, pathetic life. Save us all from stabbing myself in eyeballs with my toes and keep how happy you are to yourselves.

#3. "Babe" Couples

The worst. The absolute fucking WORST. Really, is there anything worse than this?:

 

This is what you sound like. You may think that you don't, but you actually do sound THAT retarded. Your significant other has a name, so fucking use it. If you use babe once every now and then, that's fine. It's the couples that use it in every fucking sentence. 

Hi babe, what are you doing? 

Nothing babe just watching TV. 

You're so cute babe! Let's get dinner tonight! 

Sure babe! 

Love you Babe.

OHHHH MMMYYYYY GOOOODDD. What is also bad is those girls that call their boyfriend by their whole name when they go by the shortened version. Ex. Calling your boyfriend Micheal when everyone calls him Mike. Or calling him Christopher when everyone calls him Chris. To sum up, call your boyfriend by his fucking name. He has gone along this far without using pet names so you shouldn't start now. God women are the worst.

Being A Server

Being a server is single handedly the worst job on the planet. If you don't believe me, then fuck off. Yes the hours are great and you can make quick cash but is it really worth giving your soul away everytime you walk into work? Probably not. I believe that EVERYONE should have to work as a server or in customer service for at least 6 months just so they could understand how much people suck. For those of you that have been a server or in the customer service industry, I know you can write a million different stories on the shitty fucking people you have dealt with.

Let me set the scene for you. I worked at a BBQ joint in downtown Long Beach. Let me say that one more time, BBQ JOINT IN DOWNTOWN LONG BEACH. So naturally, our clientele was pretty interesting. Getting a 10% tip was considered excellent. Us servers would rejoice in the backroom while secretly talking so much shit on you. And yes, if you were rude, we did mess with your food. I have taken dirty silverware out of the dish bin. I have seen people dunk their balls in blue cheese and I have seen plenty of "accidentally spilled food". As the famous movie 'Waiting" says, don;'t fuck with people who bring you you're food. It is that simple.

Fuck you to the people that say I was the best waitress you have ever had and then tip me $3 on a $90 bill. And I am not kidding when I say that has happened before. I have been called racist by black women because I messed up their order. I have been called ungrateful because I added gratuity on a party of 12. They got their receipt and said, "Who ordered the gratuity and why's it so esspensssive?" Not kidding and totally wish I was. I have been spit on, called a bitch and been stiffed on a bill of $300 because we didn't have passion iced tea.

One of my favorite stories comes from quite the tale. So it was a Sunday, meaning the worst day ever. For those of you that have worked in the industry know that Sunday's are the fucking worst. I have no idea why but it is the day of bad tips along with bad attitudes from pretty much everyone. I had these 4 fucking brats come in and sit at one of my tables. I great them, "Hey guys! Welcome to Famous Dave's! My name is Famous Mel and I will be taking care of you today!" Yes, we had to say Famous in front of our name because we were famous....I know. And then you would get the occasional oofy white man saying 'Well what are you famous for?!" And thought he was the fucking funniest person on the planet. In my head, I would just think I am going to famous for throwing your ribs in the dish pin and putting it back on your plate. Which I have totally done before. So these 4 fucking hoodrats order cream soda. Ok homie this isn't 1956 in an ice cream parlor. What the fuck makes you think we have cream soda? I tell them we don't have that, so naturally they ask for "Grape Drink." At this point, all bets are off and I could give two fucks about these bitches. They finally settle on strawberry lemonade, shocker. Whenever people would hear we had strawberry lemonade, their voice would get like 8 octaves hire because of excitement. Ya if you knew it was just strawberry syrup made of pure sugar with Country Time powdered lemonade, would you still be that stoked?

I get them their drinks and come back when they are ready to order. One of the fucking brats slams down a $5 bill and says..."I want fries and a burger for $5. Make it happen!" I could not believe my ears. Who the fuck do you think you are little bitch? I was so furious that when I went to the back I just screamed. But then one of my co-workers came up with this brilliant idea. I walk back to the table with a piece of paper in my hand and slam it on the table. I drew a map to McDonald's and said "There ya go!' And just walked away. Needless to say they left and I almost got fired, but it was SO fucking worth it.

To all the servers out there, I give you so much props and other people should to. It is not an easy job in the slightest and until you have actually done it, you have no right to tip under 15% because you're poor. THEN DON'T FUCKING GO OUT TO EAT. I have tipped under 15% once in my whole life and that's because the server was fucking awful. But if I see they are trying and are super busy, I'll even give them extra. So next time you are out to eat, give your server the benefit of the doubt because you giving them a 20% tip could make their entire day. Or give them extra money to go get shitfaced after work because let's get serious, that is what we all do anyway.

Girls: Part 1

I fucking hate girls. I really, really do. Not all, but I would go with a SOLID 95%. Why you ask? Because they are terrible human beings for several reasons. Now let me preface this. I used to be that girl. The dramatic hot mess that when myself and a boyfriend broke up, I literally thought my life is over. Dramatic MySpace bulletins and all. Yes, it was that long ago that MySpace was still badass. But the time comes when you look at your FaceBook and Twitter feed and say, "Enough is e-fucking-nough ladies!" Drama looks good on no one. Yes YOU, with your paleo diet meals, #cleaneats, Some E Cards about how you only are attracted to assholes and your inability to understand that you are too fucking retarded to be in a relationship.

I will never understand why women are the way they are. I used to be that dumb bitch in high school that was so love struck by anything that moved or paid attention to me, it eventually warped my way of thinking. Finally I took a long, hard look in the mirror and said "Stop being a pussy Mel." Not kidding. Ever since then I have been the type to date like a man. On my terms, my schedule and my life. Then I look at girls who completely conform to their boyfriend. You bitches are what I call chameleons. A month ago you hated football but now you're a huge niners fan because your boyfriend is? Got it. You used to bitch and moan about working out but you are a work out fen and clean eats fanatic because your boyfriend works at the gym? Dually noted. YOU SUCK. You make all women look bad and women wonder why men think you're crazy. It's because you are. You get mad when men don't call every fucking day. You get mad when they don't get you anything for Valentine's Day when you specifically told them it is just a Hallmark holiday. You get mad because he is balls deep in Football Sunday yet he watches your dumb Housewives shows with you everyday. Cut the men some slack ladies and stop being fucking retarded.

My favorite is the couples that break up and get back together multiple times and decide to broadcast in on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, ETC. THIS is comedy, solid gold. You should only be allowed to change your relationship status 4 times in a span of 2 months, then it should just read as "I am unstable as fuck and my life is crumbling beneath me but thank god I have a sucker of a boyfriend who constantly cuts down my self-esteem. YAY!" Also girls, cut it out the long dramatic wall posts on your boyfriend's page. It only embarrass him and yourself because you think he gives a shit. No, he doesn't. He cares about you giving him a solid blowjob later or you performing your once in a lifetime act of "being on top."

Another one of my favorites is the magical disappearing girl act! This is when a girl is with a boyfriend and shows no life on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, etc., but once they break up, HOLY SHIT. It's like their social media outlets are bombarded with selfies with inspirational quote captions that are absolutely irrelevant to the pictures whatsoever. Their status' and tweets are filled with Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood lyrics because they are fighters! Now I am all for the woman who can bounce back from a bad break up, but when its so obvious that you're SO depressed yet act like you're walking on fucking sunshine, its baffling. Suddenly you have ..::~*GiRlS NiGhT*~::.. with girls you haven't seen in months. We know your game and I would almost be ok with it if you would just tell me, "You know what Mel, I had no friends when I was with him and now I am desperate for female and male attention so let's parade around 2nd Street like we are absolutely hilarious and have so many inside jokes that it makes my ex-boyfriend jealous and want me back!" Ladies, let me share you the trouble. A man does not stalk you via social media and could give two shits what you are doing. You got dumped for a reason AKA he's sleeping with someone else or probably has been for some time now! For those of you that are fans of HIMYM, you are a "WOO-HOO!" girl.

These are the type of girls that are absolutely KILLING my buzz. You are making it hard for everyone out here, cut it the fuck out.

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Virginity: Part 2

For some reason upon first meeting me, people assume I lost my virginity at age 13 to a creepy babysitter or the cute boys from Damien High School, the all boys catholic school in my hometown where the boys were extra horny and extra good looking. But I had already made out with half of them so none of them were up to the challenge. Maybe its my truck driver mouth or my constant need to talk about sex, but I really did lose my virginity at age 17 to my first real boyfriend (whatever the fuck that means), good ol Kirk.

I met him on MySpace in the summer of 2006 when I was 17. And I wish, I fucking WISH, I was lying when I said I met him on MySpace, swear to god. If you don’t know what MySpace is, immediately click the X in the right hand corner and go turn your car on in your garage and kick it in there for a while. Trust me. MySpace was fucking awesome because you didn’t even have to put your real name. MySpace was the ultimate CatFish. God I hate Nev. Anyway, the more asterisks and swirly shit you had on your default name, the cooler you were.  My name was Helium Queen after this hardcore metal band song that I used to listen to when I wore camo, had lip piercings and thought I was cooler than Nicholas Cage.

I agreed to meet him for coffee. Starbucks naturally where I would just chain smoke cigarettes like my lungs would never collapse and discuss bands that no one knew about. God forbid if they got popular I would no longer like them because I was that much of a fucking shithead.

I obviously brought my best friend with me because you never meet someone off MySpace without bringing a friend. Her name is Dalis Lighthouse. And you're probably thinking that sounds like a porn name. That is her real fucking name and it is awesome. I am convinced that was her pick up line, just her name. Shit I even used her for her badass name! (Love you Dalis) You had to bring a friend because this could have been some How To Catch A Predator shit with the guy bringing a box of condoms and a warm cherry pie.

Kirk was even sexier in person and I had no idea why the fuck he would want me. I myself have always been a bit chubby but because of this, I had to actually develop a personality. It's like Daniel Tosh said, being a man is like being an ugly woman in this world, you have to actually work. Kirk was a man of few words but they were strong and stern and I was immediately attracted to him. He was fucking gorgeous. Not like hot, but just so beautiful. I just wanted to sit on his face immediately and call it a fucking day.
We called it a night after a pack of Parliament Lights and two chai soy lattes later, drove him home in my green VW Beetle because he didn’t have a car at the time. What a fucking catch huh? Only my dumbass self would think not having a car is sexy because he seems rebellious. Considering I wanted to rape him immediately, I was bummed there was no goodnight kiss/bang. Naturally my best friend and I just gabbed about how sexy he was the whole way home and was praying I would get to sleep with him and get sex tape famous.

After a week of meeting, Helium Queen and Kaptain Kirk (his MySpace name. Clever ain't it?) were inseparable. We spent the next few weeks going to metal shows, drinking Jack Daniels and Sparks, and messing around in the backseat of my beetle. If you don't know what Sparks is, Sparks was the pre-Four Loko. It was orange and tasted like gasoline fluid but it was always fucking hilarious when someone threw up off it because it looked like Nickelodeon had slimmed them with orange shit instead of green. I deserve a fucking metal for how I contortioned my body to give him a proper blowjob with the size of him. I could write an entire chapter on Kirk's penis alone. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen at the ripe age of 17. It was smooth, perfectly shaped and mind you, enormous. I had never seen someone as perfect as his member but immediate terror took over my body the first time I ever saw it. How the hell would this beast fit inside of me?

Let me just say, it took us a solid five times for me to actually call myself a non-virgin. I was having a party at my house as usual. My parents were always out of time trying to repair their broken marriage by going on vacation to make things better. Yeah that worked out lovely considering they are divorced now and my dad got married without even telling myself, my mom or my sister for about two months. That is a whole nother depressing/witty blog topic in itself.

We had been “officially” dating for about a month now and I was ready for this shit to go down. I had envisioned candles and Stevie Wonder playing in the background. Instead I had whiskey breath, a drunk two-step and “Chain Hang Low” by Jibbs was on downstairs. I could feel the bass vibrating my princess bed frame against my wall. Somehow it just felt wrong. For fuck's sake, my room was extremely hot pink, I had a white bed frame with one of those princess mosquito nets over it. So lame. If I could go back in time, I'd give myself a swift kick in the ass and scream "You're so awesomely terrible."

We were both so drunk that it got a little messy. His 150 LB, 6’2” pail and frail frame was on top of me and I knew this was it. I was going to lose this V-Card and join this club. It worked out perfectly that I was obliterated because my body was relaxed and not afraid for his anaconda to enter. You know the scene in Superbad when McLovin is doing the ginger girl and he says “It’s in. Oh my God it’s in!” That’s exactly how it is. We were both so excited and being the drunk mess I was, starting crying from overwhelming joy.

At this point in time, “Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It” by Dem Franchize Boys was blaring downstairs and I was having sex. It was actually in and it didn’t feel like he was rapping me for the 6th time. I can’t even remember how long it lasted or how he could stay as hard as he was with the 5th of Jack Daniels we put down, for a majority of the night is a blur itself. I just remember his hip bones cutting me along my sides and me pirate eyeing to focus on his gorgeous jaw line and blue eyes.

After all was said and done, I felt this overwhelming feeling come over me. Holy fuck, I just had sex. My life would never be the same. I was addicted from the get go. I knew I wanted this feeling everyday and always. Maybe it was my shithead 17-year-old self, or my self-proclaimed daddy issues but I knew that me loosing my virginity was the worst/best thing that has ever happened to me. So from that point on, I blame you Kirk for my sexual addiction and for your beautiful penis to compare to the flaccid, noodle dicks I would encounter in the next six years.

Virginity: Part 1

I fucking hate virgins. Everything about them. Partly because losing my virginity was single handedly one of the worst moments of my life and another part is taking someones virginity is both depressing and incredible. It's depressing because that person will always have this thought of you and be clung to you in some way, shape or form. It is incredible because even when you're fucking 80 years old, you will remember me. You will remember me FOREVER.You will have to live with the thought of me forever and that is fucking rad.

This time I am going to tell the story about how I took someones virginity, unbeknownst to me. No joke.

So I am bringing back my famous character of Tim. God have mercy on my soul for outing this guy as a virgin at age 21 and half of you reading this know who he is. If you say anything to him, you suck. For those of you who don't know who Tim is, go back and read my Ex-Boyfriends post and you will understand probably why he still leaves me heavy breathing voice mails.

So I had been "dating" Tim for about 2 months. And by dating, I was still sleeping with everything and anything that had a pulse or a 5"+ penis because I was a freshman and was horny as all hell. Mind you my amazing roommate from the dorms was gone every weekend. She had a boyfriend from high school and they are now engaged (Yay! Congrats Cass and I love you!) So I had this sex dungeon of a dorm room all to myself. I seriously quadrupled my number in a little over 2 months, all thanks to booze and my uncanny sex drive. And not to mention the absolutely amazing gene pool I got to pick from that was the dorms. The dorms was like "The Real World". 95% of the people that had a relationship moving in, didn't have one within a couple months because everyone just slept with each other. It was fucking awesome.

It was a Friday in December, the last week before Christmas Break and it was the last day of finals.I obviously didn't have any finals on Friday because I am smart as fuck and planned my schedule avoiding having to study that whole week. Tim had a final at 8am and one at noon (rookie) so in between finals he came to my dorm to hang out. Mind you, Tim NEVER FUCKING CAME OVER. Ever. I always had to drive to Huntington Beach where I had to hang out with him and his Jesus loving family. You can take one look at me and know that I don't even consider the Bible a piece of literature. So naturally, they just fucking loved me....

Anyway, I put on the movie Superbad and we are just hanging out in my sardine can sized dorm bed. Most people hated these beds for sexual purposes but I loved them. Why? Having sex was my cardio! And if you have had sex in a dorm room bed, you fucking know how hard it is to maneuver yourself into different positions while still trying to be sexy. It was like the screening of Cirque De Sole "Love" every Friday and Saturday night in my dorm. So we start making out, fondling each other and what not. He pulls it out and I am not going to comment on his penis size. Why? Because I am a god damn lady and don't reveal someones miscomings.

We go at it for sometime (I really honestly can't remember how long he lasted) and then he finishes. I lay there like...well, that was cool. He, however, STILL ON TOP OF ME,...."I just technically lost my virginity to you." In my head my first thought is...technically? What the fuck does that mean? Is that a nice, polite way of saying I have never had my dick inside of anyone before you or that you did for like 2 seconds one time and Jesus called upon you and said NO. TIMOTHY NO.

I pulled a nervous, giggle, laughter and wanted to fucking die inside. I have never, ever, wanted to take someones virginity because they now have this weird connection for life and god knows me being the most emotionally unavailable girl at that time, that is the last thing I wanted. I got dressed faster than he lasted and needed a cigarette IMMEDIATELY. But Tim being the bible humper he was, I had to wait till he left. Still to this day he will text me when Superbad is on, with like a sad face. THIS IS WHY I DON'T WANT TO TAKE YOUR VIRGINITY. You send me stupid fucking text messages that are in no way, shape or form beneficial to my life. What am I suppose to say? "Aw you're watching the movie where you lost your virginity to me and now you're sad because you will never ever get another shot at these goodies? Awww that is just too fucking cute! Thanks for thinking about me!" Fuck no. Just no.

The best part was, the roommate was sleeping next to me, safe and sound in her bed the whole time. She has no idea that she was bare witness to me snatching someones V card. Love you Cassie!

One Night Stands

I fucking hate one-night-stands. I know some people reading this are like...we assumed you have had many. But in reality, I have really only had one token one-night-stand. You know the one where you barely know the guy, go home, have sex, wake up and your face is as white as Lindsay Lohan's nose. The one I did have will forever haunt me and explains why I have only had one.

To start out, I was at this party. Big shocker there, I am well aware. So I was with my absolute cunt of a roommate at the time and we were pretty shitfaced. My drink of choice back then was jager. And by drink of choice meant I would ONLY drink that and nothing else. Enough said right? I was that token whiny bitch, "The only thing I'll drink is jager and if you don't have it, fuck off." How I ever got anything I wanted back then is beyond me because I was quite the little bitch. One of those girls who thinks she is just fucking fabulous and a "bad bitch". Embarrassing, I know.

So basically how it sums up is, I'm bored. And absolutely obliterated. I see this cute guy from the corner of my eye and we start to talking and eventually start making out. The sloppy, gross, absolutely obscene make out session that I flashback to and just want to jump in a hole and die. Luckily, my apartment was close by. So we start stumbling home, making out along the way and I am thinking in my head, OK Mel. This is happening. Control yourself. You shaved your legs and your vag before this, you're good to go!

We are out on my balcony smoking cigarettes and just drunkenly shooting the shit. I vividly remember this next moment because I thought I was so damn sexy. I can only imagine how fucking ridiculous I looked. I attempted a strip tease and a lap dance on one of those mom-foldy-up-soccer-chairs? Yes. You read that right. It was GOD AWFUL. Me falling everywhere thinking I'm fucking Dita Von Teese or something. I can only imagine what that poor guy was thinking to himself, like...fuck. This chick is bat shit nuts.

As we start to lay down and make out more, I shit you not, I look at him and scream, "When did this happen?!" This guy had a full on broken arm. Not like the one that goes from your wrist to your elbow. No no no no. This beast went from his wrist to his shoulder blade, in the shape of a giant L. I was SO drunk that I didn't even realize this guy had a monstrosity of a cast. He is mortified because he obviously thought I had noticed. Why wouldn't he think that?! It was fucking huge and I was so far gone that I didn't see this thing.

I shrug and thought fuck it. This is one for the bucket list. To put it simply, just think in your head how a guy can be on top of you with a HUGE broken arm. Let that sink in for a bit. I can only imagine it looked like a fucking gorilla in heat, just arms out, knuckles down and grunting. At one point I thought he broke my nose from whipping that monster back and forth. Being the nice lady I am, I offered to go on top and let's just say after awhile the motion of the ocean didn't settle with me all too well. I quickly got off and we both realized this was just too much.

I politely asked him to leave and I passed the fuck out. Hardcore. I wake up in a daze with all blankets outside on the balcony (?) and me just laying in my birthday suit. To my horror, this guy was STILL THERE. I jump out of bed as fast as I can surrounded in my blankets that I had to get from the balcony and begin to panic. Why in God's name is he still here? WHY. He obviously heard me freak out and woke up. He proceeded to stare at me, NO WORDS, walk out in his boxers on the balcony and lights up a fucking blunt. Where he even got this blunt I have no idea. "Want some and then go get breakfast?"

First off, I applaud this boy at offering to buy me breakfast, which is what any considerable gentleman offers to do after stranger sex. However, me being the detached, psycho, unavailable girl I was, I just look at him, blink twice, and lock him out of my room. I told my cunt of a roommate to usher him out the other door of the balcony. It wasn't until about two years later that I actually learned his name and saw him at parties EVERYWHERE. Mortifying. I wonder if he remembers the night like I do. Because he will forever be in my little black book as "Cast Boy".

Movie Theater Patrons

I fucking hate the people that stand up after a movie and clap. Are you shitting me? You are that enthused about the lighting director and stunt man #2 that you feel the need to get up and clap? It takes EVERYTHING, and I mean everything in me not to saunter over to this dickwad and absolutely pummel his face to the god damn floor. I would rather you be giving simultaneous blow jobs to a kid with down syndrome and one with compulsive knuckle cracking disorder during my screening of Wreck It Ralph than have some douche stand up and clap at the end.

It doesn't stop at clapping either, it's also the people that cheer at certain scenes. Like someone taking their shirt off or a happy scene in the movie commences. I am only going to say this once....the director/cast/production company CANNOT HEAR YOU. Stop ruining the movie for everyone with you arrogant hooting and hollering for the fucking little girl that overcame bullying in 6th grade. We get it. Cute story, good for her but she's not fucking real. Please, do all the patrons a favor next time and DO NOT CLAP OR CHEER.

What is with the mind crushing sound that the straw makes when you pull it up from the plastic lid?! OH MY GOD. It takes me almost 5 minutes to actually find the cup holder so when it's finally there, you do not touch it. It is dreadful and to that 4-year-old in front of me that thinks its hilarious to pull that straw up and down as fast as you can, I am going to kick your seat so hard, your jaw will hit that bar in front of you and guaranteed you are going to do that LAME kidthing that for the first 10 seconds you're magically fine but then the second someone asks you "Are you ok?!", you start freaking out and crying. Stupid fucking kid.

God forbid if someone is pushing my precious, lice infested chair with their feet. They get roughly 2.5-3 warnings. And by warnings, I mean the whip-around-as-fast-as-I-can-look and just give them that stare that would make Jesus cry. I am not shitting you, one time a person did not get the hint. So I stood up, turned around, and slammed their popcorn tub with my hand as hard as I could, prompting it with a "CUT IT OUT." Popcorn went flying and it was fucking glorious. Annoying movie patron - 0. Mel - 1.

Ex-Boyfriends.

I fucking hate ex-boyfriends. Not because they are ugly or completely worthless, but because they are so transparent. I see you. I fucking SEE YOU and know what you're doing. Oh we haven't talked in 6 months and now you're face book chatting me? Oh, shocker. You and your girlfriend just broke up. How convenient. It's like you don't think we see that shit. Even though ex-boyfriends are the absolute easiest people to sleep with, still big fat no-no.

In particular, I have two ex-boyfriends that will absolutely haunt me for life. They couldn't be more opposite but they are both equally annoying as all hell.

Kirk was my first boyfriend, my first love and the guy I lost my virginity to with "Goodies" by Petey Pablo blaring from the stereo downstairs. He was extremely attractive and I was not. Chubby and awkward me wondering how the fuck can this guy be into me? Shocker, the kid was fucking nuts. Mind you I am almost 24 now and we dated when I was 17. To this day he STILL hits me up. And to make things even better, he lives in Canada and tries consistently to get me to visit him. Yeah, good looking out bro. I still have a dent in my car from him punching it as hard as he could because I made him angry. Me? Make someone angry? Little old me? Sounds about right.

My other nightmarish boyfriend is Tim. I love that I don't even care that I am COMPLETELY putting them on blast right now. Tim was my first boyfriend in college and Jesus we could not be any different. I love tall dark and handsome. Tim was short, blonde hair and blue eyed and just....odd. He loved Jesus, heavy metal and family while I loved weed, cigarettes and alcohol. Still do actually. I remember going to his house I would wear a sweatshirt in 80 degree weather and absolutely douse myself in perform and gum before I arrived at his house. "You smell so good!" What a chump. He broke up with me once because I didn't go to church. I wish I was joking. He eventually came crawling back because he liked the taste of this broad. Opposites attract for only a while and our weird connection began to fade. We didn't talk for about a year, but he suddenly resurfaced from the whole he crawled in to. The BEST part about it was Tim would call me in the middle of the night and leave voice mails of him just heavy breathing. I fucking WISH I could somehow link an audio to my voicemail because it's not like it would be new. I have literally saved these voicemails over the years and played them for all my friends. It is the most disgusting/hilarious/inappropriate voicemail you can think of. These voicemails continued for about a year and still happen sporadically from time to time. And every time it does, I certainly cherish it.

The point here boys is that we KNOW what you're doing. Women are always one step ahead of you. It's weird that I used to be a total slut and now I'm in a committed, awesome relationship. Yet all my "friends" who I used to bang are no where to be found. Well-played gentlemen. Like I didn't see THAT one coming. Ex-boyfriends, you are an ex for a reason. Stay there and go unwind your prey on some poor innocent girl that doesn't know your creepy ways and your small penis. And good luck!

Lace up bitch.

I have been told I hate a lot of things. And a lot of people say it like it's a bad thing. So what if I hate girls that wear fake glasses or sock buns? So what if I hate guys who wear salmon colored shirts and document their workouts on Facebook with hashtags?

I feel like a lot of people hate the same things as I do. So I am deciding to write about them, along with other random, crazy thoughts I have. Cheers to you people who actually think I am funny and not annoying. To the people that think I am redundant and annoying, well you can go fuck yourself and be sorry that you are not as witty and cynical as I am.

Cheers to you people who can actually take a joke and not JUMP to conclusiosn when my status or tweet even remotely resembles you. If you're mad about it, it's because you know it is true.

My status/tweet was not about you, but if the shoe fits, lace that bitch up and wear it.