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“Punk.”

1 Sep

It’s true, FPM called me a “punk” in his latest text message rant. He also emailed, facebook messaged and texted when I didn’t respond. Can you say desperate? I don’t want to go out with this dude, but I do like seeing what his responses are….will post more when I hear back.

kisses,

A

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FPM.

30 Aug

What does FPM stand for, you ask? Fleshy Pink Man. Let’s start from the beginning. My senior year of college I was a little bit of a slew, but subtly so. The only people who really knew this side of me were my roommates who got the morning after stories after the dudes left. It was fun, I had a blast, all in all senior year of college was incredibly awesome. One of these bachelors I met at my roommate’s boyfriend’s 25th birthday party. We were up in St. Paul at roommate’s BF’s apartment and met his roommates. Big woop- no lookers there. So after a party bus all over tarnation, taking shots out of a plastic handle of cheap vodka (which I never do and cannot even take shots so this tells you how incredibly drunk I was) everyone staggers off the bus back to the apartment.

Flash forward to the morning after- when I wake up in this room with grandma’s wall paper and blue everything everywhere, wearing navy blue mesh shorts and my strapless bra. Apparently I didn’t want to sleep on the hard wood floor (or so I was told by witnesses), so I weaseled my way into borrowing a pair of shorts and snagging the open

just thought I'd throw a lil Mauer pic out there for everyone to drool at...I know I am, especially since i'm NOT hooking up with him and i desperately want to.

spot in FPM’s bed. So I wake up and no one is there, then he comes into the room. I was pretty grossed out- as they say in Jersey Shore, he was FOR SURE a grenade. But, I had a good night’s sleep and comfortable sleepwear so I’m not angry. Turns out he’s a pretty nice guy too- very Minnesotan, overly-obsessed with sports (his claim to fame is playing baseball with Joe Mauer in high school, which I guess is a pretty good claim to fame). But when he’s around other people, he’s a total dick. When he walks away all I could think was “ish- this guys looks like a 40 yr old fleshy pink man” and the nickname was born.

We hung out, hooked up another time and then time passed. Occassionally when we were all out, BAM. We’d “hang out.” So, one lonesome day, V and I decide to have rum and cokes and sit by Lake Harriet. I decide to text FPM, just for kicks. Turns out he’s an incredibly dirty texter, to which I’m immediately appalled. We laugh and V suggests that I play along…which of course I do. So begins a few months of hilarious texting. Some are really bad, some are super entertaining, but the bottom line is, he really wants to “meet up.” I’ve been stringing him along for quite some time and never following through with actually seeing the guy. When it’s the two of us, he’s actually really fun to hang out with, but something about giving in would just wreck the fun part of the game.

The best part of these texts are the random day texts at like 2 PM. I received such a text today- 3:12 PM “When am I going to see you again?” Bahaha I haven’t written back (I actually haven’t written back to the last several) but I’m open to suggestions! This post really has nothing to do with weight, but hilarious nonetheless.

I look forward to sharing more texts from FPM with everyone, and remember to keep it classy.

kisses,

A