I Love To Beer.... Again

Hello people! I'm back. I am now in my last semester at school and let's be honest, I am now spending the majority of my time consuming alcohol and having dance parties.

So I've decided I'm going to make it my mission to break this effing streak... particularly now that it has been the better part of a decade since since I've been even remotely sexually aroused. I'm actually getting kind of worried now about my ability to perform. And if I do happen to break the streak, I am also fearing a bout of post traumatic stress syndrome.

Anyway, you know its bad when even your mother gets involved. For christmas, I received a massive amount of make up... and when i say massive i mean an obnoxious amount. This thing involves about 84 eye shadows and 40 lip colors. Basically what my mom is telling me is that I need to cover up my ugly mug with various colored chemicals and hope that a man comes a-callin'. So I must say... i have been using it. In fact, someone at Corbys even asked me if I was on a mission to "Slay Men-Bitches or hos." I must say that it is rather difficult when you don't usually wear make up to find the balance between 80's pop star and $5 hooker on Harford Road at noon. I mean... both are good looks, but I obviously don't want to look too available.

Also, I am probably a good 30 pounds heavier then I was when I started school... so the solution to overcome this obstacle: drink as much as possible when out and about. Last night after a few shots of Patron, my entire body went numb. Even my V for Va-Jeannie was relaxed. That was a first.

But I've come to the conclusion that the only way that I am going to get a man to come to my boudoir, is to actually chain him in there. Apparently, I am good at this... so far I've had 2 sexy men up there today. My goal is to have the following people chained in my bedroom: Mere's Fiance, The Rosey Cheeked Muscle Man, The White Russian and someone who will remain unnamed. For those of you who dont know who these people are... you only have to know one thing: HOT MEN... and they are of all different types. Rosey: sexy muscular meathead athlete. Mere's Man: hot (but only while playing grad/faculty/staff basketball in umbro shorts). Vlad: Connecticut preppy hot. Anonymous: to remain anonymous So what ever I'm in the mood for, I can look at my man menu and pick out what will satisfy my needs.

I'd like to take a minute now to talk about the amazingness that is Captain Kirk. He has an amazingly groomed half beard and his house is a mirror image of mine. I only wish he were drinking more so that I can take advantage of him. I want to find his errogenous zones. I bet they are in his arm pits and fore arms.

Finally, I just wanted to say that I only have 4 more months of freedom left before I head back to the real world. Consequently, I am not dealing with anyone's shit for the rest of the year. I really don't care if you break up with your boyfriend for 12 hours, I don't care if you're trying to bag yourself a man from the Cayman Islands, and I REALLY don't care if you don't know if your offer isn't what you were expecting and you're thinking about negotiating your salary. I'd just like to remind you that I don't have a job and I am strongly considering dropping of my resume to the local meth gang to see if they need anyone to manage their human capital. I mean... meth dealership is a business (just ask Stringer Bell) so I'm sure they'd need someone to deal with their HR problems: talent development, compensation, the occasional murder. (Hey someone's gotta fill those vacant positions... why can't it be me?)

I don't do drama, I just do beer,
Anita Mann

I Broke The Streak!

OMG... A boy from school asked me out on a date... to LaSalle Grille. Now girls, before I go any further, this is like one of the nicest spots in all of South Bend. They have candles on the table and everything. This guy - let's call him Javier - was so sweet... and cute ;) Just like some of the guys I've seen on those websites I like to surf at night. He is a 1yr which means that he isn't as jaded as the normal MBAs. I just hope he doesn't know about this blog. I don't want him to think i'm desperate.

Back to the date. I was so excited. I cleared off my schedule, which was easy because there wasn't anything on there to begin with. I bought a bright green dress that makes me look sexy and it doesn't give me a camel toe like my muffintop pants. When Javier picked me up, he had a single rose for me. It was so romantic. I thought, DAMN I'M GOIN TO BREAK THE STREAK TONIGHT!

So you must be asking, "Anita, how was dinner?" I really don't remember other than awesome. He ordered a bottle of red wine and told me all about his houses in Malibu and Vail. He said I should come up during Spring Break to Ski. I didn't know you could waterski in Vail? After dinner, we met some of his friends upstairs at the Club. They talked about how they all used to work as I-Bankers in NYC. They were so cool. Who knew that you could do so much w/a Bloomberg terminal!

After the Club, he took me back to The Pointe. As were were waiting at a stoplight, he reached over and kissed me and grabbed my butt...and....... IT FELT GOOD. I was so wrong about a guy grabbing my butt. Back at his place, he ripped off my clothes before the front door even closed. The rest of the night was a complete blur but I do remember thinking that I'll need to change the name of my blog. WHAT SHOULD I CALL IT?

And then I woke up... alone... in my own bed. When an AWESOME dream! Too bad it'll never be reality. Maybe I shoudl stop feelin sorry for myself and do something constructive.

Alone, in my bed, halfway through my second container of Bon Bons,
Anita Mann

Another One Bites the Dust...

Greetings from Fall Break land. I almost forgot how awesome a concept fall break is. I hope everyone is enjoying their MBA free week (and for those of you who have started doing homework for Mod 2... i am shaming you from a distance). Sorry to all of you who still have to work... suckas!

We're now nearing the end of October and the chill has begun to settle in. You all know what thism means: hibernation season is upon us. It's that lovely time of year where I wear only sweatpants and sweatshirts and NEVER leave the comfort of my heated home. (Oh and Doppler, yes the girls are out of storage and ready for a winter return to glory!) Now this poses a problem considering my current state of mind.

The story begins with a phone call i received on my way to dinner with my parents this evening. It was from my favorite Academy bus ride companions: HSA. She called to inform me that A#1: she is super pumped to come to ND for the Cuse game in a few weeks and B#2: that she is engaged (btw... congrats again!) Now usually this sort of information makes me happy and excited for my friends... but not this time. No, this information sent my brain into poor self esteem OVERLOAD. I can't handle any more engagement news. Not only am I single (and living in the piss poor gender relations capital of the world: South Bend) but I have an exponentially long streak going on. And is it just me or does there seem to be a lot of pregnant ladies walking around strutting their giant bellies with that little smirk on their face that says: "i'm getting some, and you're not!" Whatever happened to the days when the preggers people would wear mumus and look tired all the time? No, now they have to be "cute" pregnant ladies and look better at 35 weeks than I do on my best day.

So where did this news leave me? Sitting on the couch eating pretzels and frosting (jealous Mags and J?) watching America's Next Top Model and thinking that I am going to be alone for the rest of my life. Maybe it's a sign... with the piss poor market and lack of jobs out there... maybe I should just go and make the streak official and become a nun. I mean... afterall... black is slimming right?

I think what I need to do is stop giving off the "No Vibe." (ie, punching people, judging people, wearing sports bras on a regular basis.. you know... basically acting like my every day self.) Last thursday, i thought i had made a break through. It was the return of the trifeca: make up, push up bra (the first one i've ever worn... since my roommate said i should "invest" in one... what an ass... i'd like to see him have underwire poking at his man boobs all night), and lady deodorant (ie, not old spice high endurance... even though it is the BEST deodorant in the world, EVER!) And did i capitalize... no? I spend the entire night sitting at the bar with my red fleece zipped up to my chin watching baseball. Although, let's be honest, this was a look I'm not quite ready to pull of yet.

So I figure there's a few steps I can take to looking "hot" which are probably not going to happen any time in the near future"
1) Lose the braces... sorry folks, I have effed up teeth... they aren't coming off for a LONG time!
2) Lay off the sauce... right, this is Notre Dame, drinking beer in excess isn't just a talent: it's a lifestyle.
3) Hit the Gym: This is attainable... but with the way i'm looking, I'd have to be at rolfs 8 hours a day for at least 6 months to get the hot body I was told to get back in the summer before i started school. And considering the "professional spring breakers" (aka those dudes who only hit the gym once a year for the sole purpose of looking good in board shorts for spring break... they can also be found in the tanning salon... and Club Fever) will be regulars at rolfs again, I may spend more time booting in the bathroom that burning calories on the stair master.

And let's take a second to talk about binge drinking in grad school. The ever sage former co worker of mine, Teets, used to tell me all the time that I could easily break my streak if I would just get drunk at a bar. Guys are always looking for drunk chicks to make out with at bars. Well, apparently NOT! I have been drunk at many bars since i've been in school... well two bars, but i've been tanked at both of them on multiple occassions and I (think) still go home alone every time! WTF? When did the boys my age become mature and don't hit on drunk girls any more... it is a sad, sad state when girls can't even get guys when drunk. (Unless you're a SMC chick of course!)

Soup For One,
Anita Mann

Butt Touching

Ok people. It's time for Anita to rant a little bit. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but it appears as though you all need a bit of refresher. BUTT TOUCHING IS NOT OK!!! I truly don't understand the fascination with any sort of grabbing, carressing or down right slapping. For me, I have zero desire to touch anything that surrounds that cavity separating the general population from your lower GI tract.

Let me put this out there boys. There are parts of a chicks body that she'll always be self conscious about. Usually these parts involve places where there's some flab (for me this is anything between my forehead and my knees.) Do you honestly think she wants this area touched? Do you want someone grabbing at your cankles or spare tire? I think not! General rule: wherever lipids are prone to accumulate (ie, guts and butts), these should be hands free zones.

Now here is my second beef. Since I've returned back to school, I've noticed a quite disturbing trend: confidence levels and correlating aggressiveness (yikes, i'm starting to sound like Sarv) of the male population. Can you explain to me why they guys who you want to show some assertiveness have zero confidence and never make a move? Yet the skeezy guys with horrendo personalities and look like they've been beaten with an ugly stick think that they are Gods gift and I should be glad they're hitting on me. News flash: YOU SUCK AT LIFE!! Take a look in the mirror and ask your friends (if you even have any) if you're the type of person who should be really aggressive with girls. Odds are the answer is a big NO.

But don't get me wrong... as a chick who refuses to make any kind of move, whatsoever, we need guys out there who will at least put themselves out there. I'm just asking that you don't come at me with your mouth wide open and your tongue handing out... oh and don't touch my butt. For example, last night at the Backer, I got "dance raped" by some skeevy guy and wouldn't let me get away. Dude, back the truck up. I dont know you, you're ugly and kind of smell bad. Do you honestly think that I'm going to make out with you by the pole with everyone watching? Sorry buddy, you don't have a snowball's chance in hell. Go try that stuff on the freshmen at Finnegans. (Yes, I know what you're thinking... you haven't gotten any in eons so you probably shouldn't be so picky. But to that I say... yes I do need to get some, but the slump buster is not going to be someone who looks and acts like rodney dangerfield... i'm looking for my own jim halpert.)

So what's your best bet? The model isn't that hard to figure out. Buy me a drink, show some interest by hanging out with me (and if i want you to take a hike... take my BLATENT hints), and maybe make sure i get home safely. That's all I ask... in fact i think that's all most normal ladies want... not to get groped at a bar with the expectation of public tonsil hockey. SICK!

Back it up!
Anita Mann

One Night In South Bend...

Alright people, you probably all think that I abandoned you. But I never forget the little people: aka all you voyeurs who want to peek into my super lame life! Well here's a quick update on what's going on.

I quit my job in July (I know, Thad Doyle almost cried when he heard!) For those of you even contemplating breaking up with your employer, I highly recommend it. Be the one who pulls the trigger, you'll be so much happier with a clean break. Anyway, I moved back to the Bend in august to start grad school, aka college round two (no parents!) Although the difference between undergrad and grad school: no parietals. Oh and did I meantion that I am in a class comprised of less than 25% girls? It's a total meat market here... and an added bonus: no SMC chicks to deal with.

And now for the answer to the question that's on all of your minds: Yes the streak is still on. One would think that with no parietals and 3 dudes for every girl that I would be declaring residency in bone city. But no... the river of manlove runs dry. And you want to know why? A#1: Lots of the dudes are married (although, you all know my philosphy: just because there's a goalie, doesn't mean you can't score!) B#2: Lots of dudes who speak approximately ZERO english. Now normally I wouldn't have a problem with that... sometimes its better if guys don't say anything at all. Really I just want them to look good so i can stare. The problem is, this only works if the guys are from some hot country like France or Brazil or even California (who can understand those people from the west coast anyway?!?)

So what's my next move? Law School? Undergrads? or maybe I should just resort to the classy Townie hook up? I mean, I've never made out with anyone with no teeth... that idea has potential. Yum. What I may have a hard time getting past are the kentucky waterfalls (aka glorius mullets). I'm just not sure I can run my fingers through greasy curly locks (unless those locks belong to a particular Cubs Pitcher/ND alum!)

And while this is on my mind (this is totally off topic by the way) for those of you who watched the Tina Fey/Amy Poehler opening sketch on SNL last weekend (the Sarah Palin sketch), fake Hilary Clinton referred to herself as a FLIRJ. Now, this was a new term that I had never heard of before and inquiring minds did need to know. According to UrbanDictionary.com a FLIRJ stands for First Lady I'd Like to Rim Job. Now this is something that I will probably never use, but I just thought I'd put it out there for knowledge sake. Even though most of you are no longer in academia, you should try to learn something new every day and this was my contribution to your education.

Well. That's all from me for the time being!

Looking for an MRS and an MBA
Anita Mann

Newsflash: I SUCK AT LIFE!

I am a shell of a human being. Most humans enjoy other human contact. Me? Apparently I run far far away from it. So what does that make me? A deer in headlights, that's what.

On Saturday, Britt has yet another party. There was beer to be drank, pong to be played, and corndogs to be housed. I arrived fashionably late at around 8 (i'm pretty sure the festivities began around noon). I decided not to get dressed up because it was just going to be the usual people there. So I took a quick shower (didnt even dry my hair so it was a frizzy mess) and threw on a pair of jeans and an ND tee shirt and on my way I went. I played some beer pong and watched as two men humped each other in the back seat of a CR-V then went home on my merry way. Yet another fruitless night out on the town and me coming home to a cold an empty bed. Looks like the streak has no sign of breaking any time soon.

But here's my problem. As you all know, I decided to do something about the snaggle tooth in my mouth and got braces in May. They're definitly manageable because they're only on the bottom and they're clear. (No, their not Invisalign... they're braces that need to be tightened... the kind most people had when they were going through puberty). Come September 6th, however, the tops are going to go on. Yes, these two will be clear, but they will become a lot more noticable than the bottoms. Oh and did I mention the fact that with the addition of the top braces come the dreaded RUBBER BANDS?!?! Hott! So basically this means that I have less than a month to hook a guy before I become permanently and voluntarily ugly. Now those few and far between guys who are somewhat interested will only have to wait long enough until I open my mouth to either smile or talk before they see metal mouth. Seriously, you are going to have to register my mouth as a lethal weapon with all of the wiring that is going to go on. I hope TSA doesnt' give me a hard time when I go through security at the airport because I will have enough material to construct a make shift bomb just by tying a cherry stem into a knot with my mouth (McGuyver style)!

Basically, I've figured out the problem I have with finding guys. Aside from the obvious (my general mannish demeanor, my secretary's ass, oh and my ever expanding beer gut), my problem is is that I'm just down shy around members of the opposite sex. Well, members to which I am attracted. Usually, I cannot muster up the courage to even say hello to a guy. But when I do get some beer confidence, do I go and say "Hi, How are you?" No! I insult them and then resort to physical violence. I truly do not understand what makes me think that repeatedly punching a guy is going to make him think, "man this chick is dating material!" If they wanted to get punched around, all they would have to do is walk around West Baltimore with a wad of cash in their hands and wait to get mugged. Or how about when maybe I meet someone who can take a punch or two and still shows interest. What do I do then? I freeze up and RUN AWAY. And where does this all leave me? Watching Modern Marvels on Saturday nights that's where.

And I ran, I ran so far away,
Anita Mann

Clifford The Big Red Zit

I like my men like i like my jeans: tight and stone washed. I think this is going to be my new motto. Why? because clearly I need to bring my standards down from already low to 80s mullett bottom of the barrell. Hey... if you are disease free and have no visible skin diseases... give me a call.

I wish you all could see me today because I am the epitome of un-hottness. Apparently, I've put weight on since the last time I wore the jeans that I am wearing. When I put them on I had to lay down on the bed to pull them up over my ever expanding FUPA pouch. Then when I finally did get them on, I had to change out of my shirt to an extra wide and long shirt (aka one of those shirts that is really old and has completely lost its shape) so that my permanent muffin top would not be too visible. I considired putting on jeans that actually fit, but I intentionally put them in the hamper for a good washing and really... once the've been in the hamper with my sweaty work out clothes, there's no pulling them out. So what's the lesser of the two evils? Muffintop pants with a side of camel toe or smelly jeans that haven't been washed and smell like ass? Hmm... now that i look at this, I probably should have gone for the dirty jeans. To top everything off, I woke up with a giant zit this morning right smack dab in the middle of my forehead. Awesome, nothing says cute girl like a giant piece of pepperoni adhered to your face. Now everyone gets the occassional zit, but most people throw on some cover up and deal with it. Me, I've decided to embrace my zit and let him hang out cover up free. Afterall, cover up would be considered part of the make up family and I don't let any of that stuff get anywhere near me before 5 pm. So I think my zit and I are going to tough out the weekend together. Hell, it's the most companionship I've had in a hell of a long time.

Now you all know that Little Havana is one of my favorite watering holes here in Baltimore. This is true for a number of reasons including awesome mojitos, great location, easy parking and the abundance of hot men who go there. Well, scratch one reason off the list. I guess word got out that this is where I've been going to try and pick up men and all of the hot men have fled elsewhere while the uglies have saturated the place. At least the hot bartender is still there, but I'm pretty sure if he wasn't employed by the establishment, he'd have flown the coop months ago.

Has anyone seen that show on A&E, Confessions of a Matchmaker? It looks very intriguing. So the other day, Teets was trying to get me to pay a visit to one of these professional match makers. So we did a little research and found that they come at a price of $1000.00. What a rip off! I can get a decent looking male prostitue for less money. Besides, the types of guys who would acutally pay $1000 to get fixed up must all be real winners. The dating world is a scary, scary place people. My recommendation is to get out early and latch on to the first fella who seems interested.

On a personal note, I would just like to say hats off to Jeannie. She had quite an amazing 48 hours last weekend at put in bay and is someone all single gals should aspire to be. Also, Happy Belated Birthday goes out to Doppler.

Happy now Kraemer?
Anita Mann