In my quest for journalistic integrity, I bring you the follow-up to When Cool Girls Go Stupid. I will admit that I’ve had a few forays into the world of the UCG (UnCool Girl). I’ve been prone to fits of weird notes to boys I liked, making statements to incite jealousy, and dedicating a song or two that I would not ordinarily even acknowledge existed had I not been in the throes of crushdom. In my defense, however, I was probably in high school (or earlier) and therefore, I was UnCool...
My ex. The one I blogged about a few days ago, between Saturn and the vibrators. He’s coming to stay for a while and get his shit together. Weird? Nah. I’m friends with most of my exes, mostly because of the sheer volume of people involved with the label of “Melia’s ex.” Ok, maybe its a little weird. So, after staying up talking to Freedom last night and really deciding that this was a good idea, I tossed and turned all night trying to think of how I was going to tell...
On Monday, I was greeted on Facebook by the name of an ex. He was the boy I was going to move to Oklahoma to be with, upon I deciding I was in love with him after a terribly stalkerish romantic Thanksgiving weekend during which his mother probably put vooodoo curses on me or peed in my turkey gravy (I think she was serious about me sleeping on the couch… oops.).For the record, I “fall in love” very easily, and can name at least 4 other people during that year and a half I said I...
