I will start this story off by saying I was not there to witness it in the flesh, but by all accounts it was truly glorious, and I really get a kick out of it, so I want to recount it for the interwebs.
It’s a pretty big effing deal that the Blackhawks just won their second Stanley Cup final in 3 years, and I would just like to take a minute to reflect on that glorious summer of 2010 when they last brought home the cup, and proceeded to party their goddamned faces off in the Windy City.
You couldn’t go to any bar or club in River North on any given Thursday/Friday/Saturday night that summer and not wind up bumping into the young guns. They were on top of the world! Club owners always had a table and free bottles set aside, hot chicks were lining up to throw themselves at the guys, and bros were buying them drinks and congratulating them everywhere they went. These guys were living the life, man, they had it MADE and there was no one who dared say no to them.
Until they met my friend, whom I shall call, “Marsha.”
Yes, I am in fact that cliche of a girl with more guy friends than girls. It is not because guys are less drama, or more aggressive or because they love football as much as I do. For whatever reason, throughout my life, I have just found it easier to make friends with a bunch of hetero males than hetero females. As an added bonus, sometimes we can make out if we feel like it, which is something that I can’t do with my girlfriends. No, not even drunk.
I was messing around with this Brit “footie” player this one summer, totally enamored of the accent, the body and the job. Plus he had these (likely photoshopped) photos of himself training with David Beckham, and I love to think I have banged someone who has been in close proximity to David Beckham and probably seen him naked.
(I would like to note that in trying to insert the photo of Kristen Stewart I wound up accidentally deleting three hours of work on the text and losing the entire post. So, in addition to the horror that is “Twi-hards,” her disgusting fashion/hair/makeup choices, and the breakup of Rupert Sanders’ marriage, we can also blame Kristen Stewart for ruining this awesome post.)
I was emotionally cheated on by someone that I loved, and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I am still not sure that I have recovered from it, as evidenced by this entire man-hating blog. I would not dare to argue whether it is worse to be the victim of emotional or physical cheating. All I know is that what I went through was horrendous, and I would not wish any form of it on anyone. Except maybe Gisele. Because, I mean, c’mon. You can’t have Tom Brady, a multi-million dollar a year career, 2 kids and that body/face. I just want her to lose at one thing. Are you there, God? It’s me, Gisele-hater.