Nugs' Wasted Opportunity

Nugs: Iron Man and I met totally by accident. I had just escaped from LA, so I was kind of like Kurt Russell, only smaller and less growly. And also with both my eyes and substantially less body hair.



Finding a dude was definitely the last thing I was concerned with. I'm currently still on the job hunt, and I'm crashing at my dad's until I settle into a suitable living situation. The first time I moved back to New York I made the disastrous mistake of dating the first guy that I met, so I was determined to hang out with my friends and focus on myself, leaving relationships on the back burner. I wasn't prepared for this at all.

Ginny: That's what they all say "It's me time!" and then they meet their future spouse.

Nugs: At least if I marry him I'll know that he's already seen Ginny and I wasted together. So I won't have to drop that bomb at the wedding.

I had been back East for about two weeks when I was messaged on Facebook by one of my oldest friends, who you guys may remember from That Ain't Kosher as Bri-Winning. He was hitting up our old Sunday night hangout with all our boys from my college days, so of course my presence was required.

Bri-Winning and I got to the bar and weren't there for ten minutes when Iron Man arrived. Apparently he and Bri-Winning had met a few months prior through another mutual friend and were usually both there on Sundays, but Bri-Winning didn't know whether or not he would be there that night. He introduced us, and I found myself immediately regretting my decision to not go with the V-neck top. Dude was hot. Then I found out he was a Penguins fan. Oh. Fail.

Too bad for you. RANGERS FOREVER.

Lily: Womp womp. Why don't people understand that these are serious issues?!

Tits: I love this guy and yet I hate him at the same time. I just can't deal with those Penguins fans.

Nugs: Right? I will never, ever raise a Flyers fan in my house. Or Devils. Sorry, Tits.

PS- Lily, you're getting married to a Packers fan. You can't say shit.

We ignored everyone else for about an hour until Bri-Winning came over to drive me home. I lingered for a while as I put on my jacket, waiting for Iron Man to offer me a ride (in the car, you pervs!), ask for my number, ANYTHING that would indicate the slightest hint of interest in continuing our conversation. I waited, and all that happened was a goodbye.

SAY WHAT.

Ginny: Guys do this all the time as in they don't get the hint when we're giving the hint.

Lily: The male species does not comprehend "hints".  And sometimes, they don't even get it when you're telling them directly.

Tits: You could write the hints on a two by four and beat them over the head with it and they would still not get it. I can't tell you how many times I have said something to Imac only for him to forget in less than 3 seconds.

 Nugs: Ugh, YES. Unless you include the words "sandwich," "beer," or boobies!!!!!!".

I spent the next two days going over this (sorry, Tits), wondering how I (again) could have fucked things up. (OMG this was torture, Nug's ability to over-analyze is epic) (Do you really want to play this game with me? Because this will end in a tie. Or a marshmallow fight.) I concluded that I definitely should have worn the V-neck after all.

Then, when I was checking my Facebook, I noticed a friend request. It was Iron Man. He was on, and sent me a message on Facebook chat. I kept it totally cool while texting like nine of my friends in the process, even while he asked me to go for drinks that weekend.

One of his friends was bartending that night, which is very bad for me because the shots were free and I hold my liquor even worse than a freshman sorority girl. The drinks kept coming (Haha. "Coming."), and being sufficiently loaded allowed me to "question" him about his lack of follow-through:

Me: So what was your deal? I totally didn't expect to hear from you.
IM: About that. I just figured I would find you on Facebook through [Bri-Winning].
Me: Well, that makes no sense. You should have just gotten my number.
IM: Yeah, after you left, I was kind of like, "you stupid motherfucker."
Me: Actually, me too.

*drink*

Me: So how did you find me on Facebook? Did you go through [Bri-Winning's] friends or something?
IM: Yeah, I saw somebody that I thought was you. Then I went through some pictures and I was sure.
Me: Stalking. Classy. Did you go through the ones on the stripper pole?
IM: There are ones on a stripper pole?
Me: Really? I thought those would be the first ones you looked at, considering you've been talking to my boobs for like twenty minutes.

IM: Shit. You noticed that?
Me: It's pretty obvious.

Tits: In fairness to him, your tits do come through the door about 2 minutes before the rest of your body. It's hard to miss them.

Nugs: AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

The more we imbibed, the more the conversation slipped heavily into unintentional porn:

Me: (after he asked about my job) So, what do you do?
IM: I'm a pimp.
Me: .......
IM: (explains actual job. He's not serious- he's not really a pimp, but it's close.)

By this time I had downed at least two glasses of vodka and three double shots of tequila, and I didn't know which one of him was real- the one on the left or the one on the right. I was super hammered, so I was sort of relieved when it was time for last call. We walked out to the car and had a relatively normal drive back to my dad's house which I do not remember at all until the end.

We sat in the driveway, and it was one of those typical first date moments where he was probably thinking about whether he should go for it and I was probably thinking about whether he would go for it, or I would have been if I weren't smashed out of my mind. Before I could even take this in, he leaned over and it happened, and even though I was heavily dosed on tequila I knew that it was good. I straightened myself up, said my goodbye and exited the car. I barely made it to the bathroom before I lay down next to the toilet. I woke up the next morning fully clothed with a pounding headache, my face pressed against the tile.

Tits: This seems to be the proper order in life: Making out and then vomiting up everything you have eaten for the day.

Lily: I have an awesome visual of you looking hung over...

I was totally convinced that once again, I was destined to adopt nine cats and move into the comic book store, but IM actually texted me the next day and invited me out with his friends. "Shocked" does not even begin to cover my reaction, although he still claims he had no idea how intoxicated I really was that night. He probably just thought I was being a bitch. Although he does kind of enjoy that, which explains why we're still together. Either that, or he really likes V-necks.

Ginny: there is nothing wrong with having a lot of cats!


Nugs: Or lemurs. For some reason, I'm now obsessed with lemurs.

This dude.

Holy Mother Of...

Nugs: My birthday is fast approaching, and as the oldest first-born member of Snark & Sex, I'm the first one to leave behind her twenties. I'm also the only one of us that's still so fucking single that the most excitement I just had was mass-texting like 18 people about how I went to opening night of The Hobbit. With my brother. Also my iPhone kept auto-correcting the word "Bilbo."

Ginny: The Shire is back bitches!!

This, of course, does not sit well with my Jewish Mother, who is constantly trying to think of new and interesting ways to lasso me a Baby Daddy. These include:

• online dating
• going to places alone like a creepy stalker
• her friends' sons who happen to live thousands of miles away
• the personals Ginny: Don't do this because I'm afraid you'll be murdered. Nugs: Right there with ya, Gin.
• Star Trek conventions
• trips to the zoo (don't even ask)

What in the... just no.

For those of you of the Jewish persuasion, you know exactly what I'm referring to when I capitalize the terms "Jewish" and "Mother." For those of you who haven't been personally familiarized with this phenomenon, I'm indescribably jealous.

Tits: I'm pretty sure everyone in the world knows what you mean by the term "Jewish Mother." Unless they have been living under a rock and have never caught an episode of the Nanny. I'm pretty sure Nug's could make her own Shit Jewish Mothers Say video.

Nugs: I totally missed the boat on that meme. Much like when you wondered why I didn't get that waiter's phone number instead, I question why I don't yet run all my life decisions through you.

I do, of course, adore my mom- as far as parents go, I definitely hit the jackpot with both of them. However, my Jewish Mother does have the tendency to- should we say- overstep. It's a running joke in my family- if we want the world to know what's going on in our lives, tell Mom not to say anything, and within an hour it will be on the news in at least four continents. I remember one Facebook conversation in particular I had with my brother when he had just started dating his most recent girlfriend and we were debating just how much our Jewish Mother needed to know about the relationship. We finally agreed on "as little as possible" in case Mom decided to buy them matching burial plots.

Tits: This is a totally respectable thing to do. I told my parents about Imac too early and they begged me to bing him to every family function even though we hadn't been dating 3 months. I've managed to hold off all the way till christmas. WINNING. 

Nugs: I love you.

Ginny: My mother offered me a burial plot in Michigan. Why would I want to be buried in Michigan? Sorry, I just had to share that.

Nugs: Our family's is in New Jersey. Again, I state- NEW JERSEY. NOT WINNING.

Anyway, we digress. The following conversation with my brother took place on a Monday between 8pm and 10pm, PST:




Nugs: So what did you lead with? "I'm dating someone" or "she's a lawyer?"
Brother Nugs: Does it matter?
Nugs: Not really. Either way Mom is already blueprinting the sonogram.
Brother Nugs: Also I told Mom she doesn't have Facebook.
Nugs: Does she?
Brother Nugs: Of course she does. Everyone is on Facebook.
Nugs: Ahahaha. Well played.

Nugs: Remember when I dated a Jewish lawyer? After a month she was already drafting wedding invites.
Brother Nugs: Yeah. I remember him. That guy was a douchebag. For some reason Mom really liked him though.
Nugs: Jewish. And lawyer. Although Mom likes anyone who she thinks is going to implant me with their seed.
Brother Nugs: You're definitely next.
Nugs: She's like, "How about that nice kid in the next apartment?" And I'm like, "No Mom. He's 16, and a Klansman."
Brother Nugs: She probably likes that at least he has high-thread count sheets that get frequently washed. You need better excuses.

As with 95% of Jewish Mothers (there was a poll) (Tits: I don't think this needs a poll), my mom gets super excited at the mere mention of a boy even glancing in my general direction because clearly, this means that I'll be married within six months. Unfortunately for her (and me), she often wanders too far into the deep end and leaves me without a pair of floaties. Observe, the Tale of the Attack of the Family Circus, submitted for your approval (or not):



I had just started dating The Subscription (for more on that trainwreck, click this link), and we were supposed to hit up a Halloween party at a local bar. Since we all know how Jazz Hands! I go for Halloween, I had offered to help him pick out his costume; then he would come back later and we would go to the party. That also, coincidentally, happened to be the weekend that my mom was staying with me, so the chances that he and I would finally be getting down were probably pretty marginal. Such is my life. Anyway:

I had briefed my Jewish Mother on the situation and had let her know that while Friday night was Girls' Night, Saturday belonged to my new guy. Apparently my scheduling capabilities weren't enough for her, as this then led to the following exchange:

Jewish Mother: Is he going to come in before you leave so I can meet him?
Nugs: Unquestionably 100 percent no.
JM: Why not?
Nugs: Because I want him to keep liking me.
JM: What is that supposed to mean?
Nugs: Nothing, Mom. I love you. Eat your kugel.

Tits' Sidenote: While I am not Jewish I love me some kugel (even though I always want to pronounce it "quigel") and the only time I ever had it was when my Jewish Freshman roommate's mother sent her back with some from over Thanksgiving. It had pineapples and cheese and was amazing. Anyways this is totally off topic.

Nugs' Sidenote: Kugel is actually one of the only Jewish foods that is not totally disgusting. There's a reason all our edibles have the syllable "ugh" in it. Anyway...

 I met The Subscription at the store, where we debated on what to wear that night. I practically pleaded with him to get the Superman costume, to which he responded that he wasn't wearing "no fucking tights." In retrospect, it's probably better off that my future offspring aren't going to share 50% of his genetics.

Tits: I actually respect him for being "No fucking tights;" those things ride up your ass like a motherfucker.

I'll take "All my hopes and dreams" for $100, Alex.

Nugs: We explored the aisles until we settled on suitable outfits for both of us and made our way towards the register. I was almost home free until I turned towards the checkout area- and came face-to-face with the Jewish Mother.

Nugs: MOM?!?!
JM: You must be [The Subscription]! I've heard a lot about you.
The Subscription: Um...
Nugs: *dies*
JM: You're right, he's cute. Well, see you at home!
Nugs: *and...puddle on the floor* Oh. God.
TS: It's cool. My mother's Italian, I get it.

Ginny: Your mom needs to have her own tv show.

Tits: Catholic Mothers are the second worst next to Jewish ones. That's what the poll said anyways. While I wasn't raised Catholic, my mother and grandmother were and they know how to make you feel guilty over everything. It's like an art form.

Ginny: Only my grandmother can guilt trip me into going to church. She's really good at it!

Nugs: Totally. My mother is such an expert at the Guilt Trip that I swear she taught the class. Actually, she was probably Dean of the entire school. As for our respective celebrations, the most important of the Jewish holidays is Yom Kippur, where we basically sit around all day and think about what an asshole we are. Also, while all of you guys get happy, fun movies like Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Carol and Home Alone, the closest thing Jews get to a holiday classic is Schindler's List. So make of this what you will.

Ginny: What about 8 Crazy Nights? Is that a Jewish classic?

Nugs: That is a Jewish abortion. But thanks for checking. <3

Perhaps the best (or worst) part of this whole calamity is that my mom sees absolutely nothing wrong with anything she ever says or does. She never thinks any of her children should be humiliated by any of the ways she chooses to express her love, no matter how cracked or unhinged they may make her appear. Whenever I question why I'm still without an appropriate lifemate, as if on cue, my mother's number comes up on the Caller ID and I think, "oh...right."

BRB, dying alone forever.

Ginny: Not true. Your mom will always be there ;)

You've Got Male. See What I Did There?

Nugs: This weekend I went out of town to visit my mom and, while on my vacation, picked up a shit-ton of postcards for all my co-bloggers (Bloggesses? Bloggi? Let's coin something and make this a Thing).

Lily: I vote Bloggi, because it sounds funny.

Ginny: And Bloggi sounds like it would be grammatically correct or something like that if it was a real word.

Nugs: You guys know how I feel about grammatical accuracy. Let's do this. Moving on..

Lest you think that I'm a total philanthropist or whatever, keep in mind that this was like 40% for them and like 60% for me. Or, to be more accurate, it's probably more 20%-80%.



Ginny: I'm bad at math so don't look at me.

Nugs: I am definitely more of a science nerd. "Chemistry," hey-o!

Anyway...

Every time I mail something to my friends I get to go to the UPS store, which means that I get to see my secret boyfriend; and by "boyfriend" I totally mean "definitely knows I'm in love with him and is most likely terrified that I'm waiting behind his car or something." I should probably inform him that we are in fact together but I like my relationships to have that element of surprise. I swear I am thisclose to throwing myself boobs out on the counter and asking him to sign for my package.

Lily: TeeHee, package! In all seriousness though, you should totally do it. 

Coyote Tits: Nugs has been talking about this guy for months. MONTHS. The way she describes him, well it's totally like this:

Nugs: It's true. My friends all benefit from my stalker tactics because this means they get a bunch of presents, but in return they have to put up with me rambling on about how hot this guy is. So, tit for tat. Without the TAT.

One time I went in there with an NYC shirt and some old dude started talking to me about the Knicks. I love the Knicks, despite the fact that they consistently suck, and the guy behind the counter was like, "oh, we have someone here who's a Knicks fan." Then he told my future child support to come out from the back room and I DIED. Not visibly, though, because I'm all stealth.

As it turns out, we are totally made for each other because he is also from New York. He had even heard of the tiny college that I went to that people usually make curious puppy face when I mention. Also did I tell you guys that he looks like this?

Lily: And you haven't jumped his bones, why? This is a HUGE step above from what I was imagining in my head. 

Nugs: Wait. What are you implying?

Lily: Stop slacking and get to it!

Nugs: The answer here is simple: I'm a chickenshit.

I mean, we had talked to each other before but not normally for more than three minutes because:
1) He's at work (Not a good excuse, he takes breaks, no?)
B) He's always surrounded by old fat dudes and (ew)
MAGICAL PRANCING UNICORNS) That three minutes is usually the exact amount of time I can hold a conversation with him before I picture him naked and get all flustered and have to leave before I say something that gives away what is going on in my head OH HAAAAAI. Every time he asks for my number to "put in the system" I want to be like, "put THIS in the system." Oh yes. And then I get all excited because he asked for my number. And then I remember, "oh right. It's his job." Sad.

Coyote Tits: This is also his job:

Nugs: Anyway, I went there today to mail everything and- what a gyp- he wasn't even there! Or his red light psycho-meter went off and he went to sit in the back in the fetal position until I left. Later Tits and I were on Facebook and this happened:

Nugs: he wasn't even there; what a gyp
Coyote Tits: seriously
Nugs: or maybe he was hiding in the back. he probably heard me come in and was like "Oh Shit"
Coyote Tits totally unlikely;  he would have been all "get the fuck out of my way the hot bitch with the big tits is here"
Nugs:: AND SCREENCAP
Coyote Tits hahaha
dammit now everything I say can and will be used against me in a court of Nugs 

Ginny:  Looks like we're going to be getting more post cards.

Nugs: All my friends keep telling me to just ask him to get a drink or something, but I think at this point he would probably run the fuck the other way. Or at least purposely give me the wrong meeting place and then have the cops show up. Although, hey, handcuff access! Ye-yeah.

Please still be my friends.

Ginny: I like the or something because the or something could be sexy times.

Lily: I agree. Invite him out. Talk about NYC. And if the cops come, maybe they would want to join the party. HEY-O!

P.S. We're still friends.