DFC is Chirpin’

06 Apr 2017 1 Comment

by CoJo in dating, fun, life, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I was sitting around, minding my own business last week (read: binge watching Netflix), when one of my brother’s old colleagues from NY who I haven’t seen or spoken to in years private messages me on Facebook with some interesting info.  She had read my previous post, “You Dated HIM??” about my brief stint with one of the Barstool Sports guys (Devin, or DFC as I refer to him), and she happens to be a fan of them… a “Stoolie,” if you will?

Now I read this message and was like nahhh, there’s no way he’s talking about me…that was soooo long ago…why would he be bringing it up now? Plus, I had thought he lied and said he was living in Hoboken, not the Bronx.  Admittedly, this was like 9 years ago, so I really don’t remember exactly where he lied about living.  It very well could have been the Bronx; I just remember it certainly wasn’t at home with his parents.  I gave the Podcast a listen, and for five full minutes I’m thinking, “holy shit he’s totally talking about me.”  Literally, word-for-word, how I would have told the story myself (maybe minus the part where he called me a dumb bitch…but he also called me pretty hot, so we’re totally cool).  He even dated it, guessing our approximate ages at the time.  So unless he had the same exact event happen twice in the same year, with two people the same ages as we were, quoting the girl saying the same things I said to him, he was damn well talking about me.

Here’s a small clip from his full podcast on KFC Radio in which he tells the story during a segment about lying to girls:

Now here poses the question, what are the f*cking chances that we both happen to remember, and publicly share, the same exact story from nine years ago, within the same 6-week time period?

“He must have seen your blog,” one friend suggests.  But how?  I go to great lengths to block anyone that would potentially see something I write about them (yeah, I’m a huge baby, I know)… and wouldn’t he have called me out on that?  Or is he just stealing my story because it was obviously so intriguing?  Or, could this, in fact, be just a very large, strange coincidence??  Could both of us really be re-telling the same story at the same time 9 years later?

Ginge hears the Podcast, thinks it’s hilarious, tells me he’s 100% talking about me, and says he’s sending DFC my blog.

“NO!  Do NOT!”  I don’t like it when people know I’m talking about them behind their backs.  Then I think about it and realize he talked about me behind my back too.  We’re even.  I decide to message him and tell him about my post myself, and that I heard the Podcast.  I guess he hadn’t received the message to wherever I sent it yet, but he received someone elses….  (WHO ARE YOU?  REVEAL YOURSELF!)

img_1444-1

So wait… so he did, in fact, randomly tell this story on his Podcast last week, having no idea I had just written the same exact one.  Annnddddd….my details were wrong. Touche. We’re even? We chatted a bit, laughed about it, and I invited myself onto his show and he said no.  Rude.  Super rude.

Then, this morning, one of his “Stoolies” messaged me, and tattled on him.  He released his weekly Podcast this morning, and updated our story, with a full-read of my previous blog post.  I listened, I laughed (how are you questioning the fact you’re a little bit of a ginger) and he called me out on my details being wrong (dude, it was 9 years ago).  Ginge also listened, laughed, and I’m pretty sure his week was made…. OMG Barstool DFC talking about him on his Podcast! Ginge is totally famous.

And so am I?  Maybe? A little?  I’d like to thank all 12 of my readers for keeping me in the loop.  I’m glad our people were able to help us connect the dots even though I disguised DFC’s identity so well…  Devin, it’s been funny talking about each other behind each other’s backs.  But stop lying. You’re really not good at it.

Here’s a link to this week’s Podcast with DFC’s version of our updated story.  If you don’t want to listen to them bitching about the Master’s (and if you’re reading this blog, chances are, you don’t), then skip to 17:15.

KFC Radio:  Little Saturdays Are For The Boys

‘Til next time…

xoxo Gossip Girl

 

“You Dated HIM??”

15 Feb 2017 5 Comments

by CoJo in dating, fun, life, Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

The year was 2008. Maybe. Something like that. I was living in an apartment in Hoboken, NJ with two of my girlfriends at the time.  I was single, ready to mingle, and living it up the in the young, fun NYC ‘burb.  I don’t remember exactly where I met him, some bar, but I remember we went out several times.  He was a little bit younger, and a little bit of a ginger (yes, I’m noticing this trend), and seemed super sweet.  I guess I liked him enough to see him a few times.  I didn’t really understand what his job was at the time, but I remember him inviting me out to a local bar for a function to support this website he was working on.  I didn’t really understand the website.  It was something about watching sports at bars.  I didn’t care about it, or give it much thought.  I didn’t go to the event.

One day we were hanging out at my apartment, having a conversation, and some of, (let’s call him Devin), Devin’s stories just weren’t adding up.  He had originally told me he was staying with a friend or something like that while he was in between apartments.  His new apartment “wasn’t ready yet?” Some sort of complicated situation I don’t remember completely, and had no desire to keep up with.  During this particular conversation, however, I caught him in some sort of confusing tale in which he finally had to reveal to me that he had been lying to me since we met, and he actually still lived with his parents in Northern Jersey.  He just visited Hoboken, and stayed on his friend’s couch while he was there.  

I was pissed.  I wasn’t necessarily pissed that he lived with his parents (ehhh), but I was pissed that I was going to have to stop talking to him.  He was pretty cute and nice and seemed somewhat normal, and I was having a good time with him.  But I don’t do lying. Hard no. If during the first several weeks of knowing each other, you’re basing multiple conversations around a fact that is not true (an alternative fact, if you will), what the hell else are you lying about?  I couldn’t.  I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.  He was super apologetic and tried to explain his reasoning behind lying (obviously I get it; I know why you were lying, dumbass).  But it was over.  I’m pretty sure we didn’t speak again, besides maybe a couple of Facebook invites to attend events in which you watch sports at bars?  For this website he worked on?

Flash forward, the year is 2017.  I’m sitting on the couch with Ginge, he’s getting ready to play something he had DVR’ed on Comedy Central.  He’s been waiting for this.  The three main guys from his absolute favorite website are going to be on National TV.  He spends the majority of his free time on this website, while simultaneously listening to their podcasts.  The show comes on and the host introductions start.  I look up from playing Scattergories on my phone and am surprised.

“Hey, wait, I dated that guy.”

Ginge whips his head around and stares at me.  He then pauses the TV.  “You dated ‘DFC?'”

“Is that what we call him? Yeah, briefly.  Then I found out he was lying to me and he was living with his parents so I never talked to him again.”

“Well he’s rich now.”

“DAMMIT!”

That weird website he had been working on where you watch sports at a bar? Or something like that? Yeah, that was Barstool Sports.  And he’s one of the three main guys. How did I never come across this fact in the last nine years?  I really have no clue.  *#$(@&@#^($*&@#

I swear I’m Good Luck Chuck.  I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. Date me, as brief as it may be, and you’ll eventually marry a model, become rich, or do both.  You’re welcome, Devin, you’re welcome. Yes, I’m giving myself some of the credit for your success. I’m glad that little project turned out well for you. Truly. Cheers to Barstool Sports.

barstool

xoxo

Gossip Girl

 

 

First Trip Back to NY

11 Dec 2013 2 Comments

by CoJo in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

One thing I wasn’t prepared for when moving from New York to California was for people to be mad.  Sad, yeah, of course… I was sad to leave people I love, but mad?  No.  I’m not sure how that emotion came about.  It doesn’t really upset me that people are mad, just confuses me.  I feel like we are all living our lives with the goal to experience things and make ourselves happy.  And different things make different people happy.  I don’t think I’d be mad at anyone for a life decision unless it were specifically to hurt me.  I never really anticipated feeling the bit of guilt I feel, now living on the other side of the country.  Not because I feel like I’m doing something wrong, just because it’s clear that a couple of people I love are mad at me for pursuing what I wanted to do… my selfish dream.  I miss these people all… like crazy.  But didn’t plan on feeling guilty about it.

Carissa and I have been here for a little over 4 months and hadn’t had plans to go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas this year.  Flights are crazy expensive, we made a no-man-left-behind pact, and my parents decided to come out in early January to celebrate Christmas with us here.  Some minor guilt trips were laid out about not being around for the holidays, but that didn’t really affect me.  What did affect me was that I really started missing “home” and the people who were there.  Not because holiday season was approaching, but because I just genuinely missed them.  Sitting on my front porch one night with a glass of wine (the best ideas are sparked by a glass of wine), I asked Carissa if she’d be interested in coming home with me for a long weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  She was.  We decided on going for our brother’s birthday weekend, booked the trip about 6 weeks in advance, and decided we would make it a surprise.  The only person we notified for coordination purposes was our “brother,” Courtney, who was planning birthday festivities.

We flew in separately last Thursday.  I took an early flight, and Carissa got one after her classes.  Since no one really knew we were coming, it was hard to coordinate sleeping arrangements for the first night.  I knew I had to go to Hoboken straight from JFK to pick up my snowboard from my condo’s basement to bring back with me, so I planned to stay with a friend there.  Carissa on the other hand, didn’t want her friends to know she was home until the following night, so her plan was to get home to Babylon around 2am, SNEAK INTO our parents’ house, and into her bed, and then meet me in the morning to surprise them at work.  FLAW FLAW … hole in the plan.

“Carissa, you CANNOT sneak into the house.  Dad’s going to shoot you when he hears someone creeping up the stairs in the middle of the night.”

“No… he only has a Louisville Slugger next to his bed… I’ll be fine.”

“He has a GUN.  He will shoot you.”

“Oh….really?…. hmmmm… okay I’ll figure something else out.”

She figured something else out.  I also had to figure something else out at the last-minute because my Hoboken sleeping arrangements fell through.  Planes trains and automobiles later, I arrived in Hoboken and met up with The Architect, who I had informed earlier that I’d be in town for the night.  The feeling being back there, but homeless, was eerie.  It felt so amazing to be back.  I’d missed the vibes of the town.  I had a fun random Thursday out, visited my favorite local watering hole, and saw a couple of friends.  The next morning as I walked to my old condo in the dark, cold, rain, I couldn’t help but feel happy anyway.  I was so excited to be back, and so excited to see my family over the next couple of days.  As I crossed the street near my building, dragging my luggage with a hood over my head, the crossing guard who looked like he was basically covered in plastic bags shouted, “Happy Friday!”  I beamed, and shouted back to him.  Even the nasty cold rain was making me happy.  I felt back at home.  Back home with all the miserable commuters I was used to.

If getting through public transportation on a Friday morning during rush hour isn’t complicated enough…. I challenge you to do it with a rolling suitcase, an oversized purse, a sweater, and a packed snowboard bag over your shoulder.  I can’t count how many times I said “I’m sorry,” and after the first leg of the trip, making it down to the PATH and then up into the city, I just couldn’t stop laughing.  As hard as I tried to control all of my things it was just impossible not to whack people either in front of me, behind me, or to either side.  As I fielded dirty looks, I felt it was necessary to explain what a nightmare it was to be pushing through turnstiles with the amount of odd-shaped things I had to carry.

I finally made it to Penn Station, got a real New York bagel, made my way down to the Long Island Railroad, got my snowboard up on the top shelf with a big sigh, and sat down.  The conductor collected my ticket and I asked him if he knew when the train would get to Babylon.  He told me, and then asked, “Do you know who I am?”

I did know who he was.  He was my mom’s friend’s husband, Frank.  Funny enough, he was one of the only OTHER people who knew I’d be in town, because his wife, Marie helped me get my mom half a day off of work that day in secret.  Frank asked where Carissa was, and if we were ready for the surprise, and chatted with me for the majority of the train ride.  Feeling at home already.

I get to Babylon and looked for Carissa who was supposed to be picking me up.  I called her.  She picked up and whispered, “Hey, I just found Dad’s keys in his jacket pocket.  I think he’s still home.  I’ll be there in 5.”

Okay, now she’s breaking into the house and stealing my dad’s car… while he’s home.  She pulls up a few minutes later with incessant horn honking, starts laughing at me struggling with my bags, and as I throw myself into the car says, “Ok, let’s go to mom’s school.”

“Carissa!  We need to get the car back to Dad before he notices and calls the cops!”

“Oh yeah.”

It’s so weird being back, homeless, and carless.  We hurried back home before our dad knew his car was missing, crept upstairs and freaked the crap out of him.  It took him a few minutes to understand what was going on.  We asked to borrow a car and then headed to my mom’s school… which was the highlight of the weekend.  To be honest I would have made the trip east JUST for these few minutes with T-Diddy, which thankfully we caught on video:

It took her a few minutes to process that this, in fact, was NOT a dream, and then we kidnapped her for the second half of the day for some quality girl time.

The rest of our time flew.  We got to see our brother and other brother for their birthdays, our sister Britt, and a bunch of other family and friends over the weekend.  There was obviously not enough time with each person, nor enough time to see as many people as I would have liked, but we did our best.  We spent the entire day on Saturday taking over Sixth Ward on the LES, rearranging their projector, Christmas decorations, TV channels and audio system to meet our sports watching and pool-playing needs.  We spent a solid 12 quality hours there, eating two meals and using the bathrooms a record-breaking amount of times.  At the end of the night, when Carissa and I gave our final hugs goodbye to Chase and Britt on the frigid street, and scurried into the closest cab, I turned to see her start to cry.  “I hate leaving my brother…” which of course started my waterworks as well.  Spending a whole day with people you love so much in the city you love so dearly was bittersweet.

The energy in NYC is un-matched by any other place.  Maybe it’s because it’s the one in which I feel most at home, but maybe it’s because it truly is the greatest city in the world.  When Monday night came around and it was time to go back home, the goodbyes were sad, but I had a peace about me, because I felt happy to be returning “home” to California.  It’s somewhere that you smile getting off the plane and feel welcomed by the palm trees and cheery people.  Will it be home forever?  Maybe not… but really…. who knows?  For now, my heart is split between coasts.  And that’s how I like it.

Peace out for now buttercups…

xoxo

Gossip Girl

xxx Packing xxx

24 Jul 2013 1 Comment

by CoJo in fun, life Tags: , , , , , , ,

The only thing that sucks worse than moving, is doing it all yourself.  The only thing worse than doing it all yourself, is if “yourself” is me, and you lack every sort of common sense it takes to efficiently pack up a two bedroom condo.   Especially when it’s a third-floor walk-up and its over 100 degrees outside.  Then you’re just a sweaty, smelly, bloody dumbass carrying large items in poorly chosen containers down the stairs all day long.

I decided I needed some shelves to put in my basement to store a lot of the stuff I’m not taking with me.  Buying shelves requires me going to Home Depot.  By myself.  I’d rather be sucked on by leeches.  When looking for shelving I had two requirements:

1.  It’s cheap (being that my checking account was a huge goose egg yesterday.  What am I, in college??)

2.  It’s easy to assemble.

I find a nice man in an orange apron and he asks if I need help.

“Yes, I’m looking for shelves.  The kind you put in your basement to store stuff on.  And they shouldn’t look nice.”

He thankfully knows exactly what kind of shelves I’m talking about, and directs me to them.  I ask, “Which one is easiest to put together?”

“All of them.”

[Yeah right].

I chose the cheapest ones that seemed like they would do the job.  The nice man said “Let me get that for you,” and tried to take the big box out of my hands.

“No, no.  Thank you, but I need to make sure I can carry this on my own; otherwise, it won’t work.”

He looks at me funny.  But I know that I need to be able to carry it, or else it will:

A) never get into my trunk and then

B) never get OUT of my trunk and

C) never get carried to the basement

And as there were like 3 instructions seeming to be the easiest assembly EVER IN THE UNIVERSE, it was OBVIOUSLY not as easy as it should have been for any normal human being, and 30 minutes and millions of drips of sweat later, the stupid freakin’ thing is finally assembled.  And not big enough.  And I’m not going back to that Godforsaken place to get another one.  So the rest of the crap will go on the floor and get destroyed again by the next hurricane in that cesspool of a basement.  That’s settled.

When I moved into this place two years ago, I was excited about all the closet space.  I had a roommate for the first year who used part of the closet space, and the remaining was still more than enough to house all of my belongings.  Once my roommate moved out, it was like I received a glorious gift… MORE closet space!!!!  Now I want to punch myself in the face for every single time I went shopping when I just happened to be next to a Marshalls or a Target, or a TJ Maxx, or God-forbid an entire MALL.  I don’t even LIKE the mall, but that didn’t stop me from just peeking my head into Macy’s every once in a while (this behavior mayyyy have contributed to the lack of current funds as well).

So here I am, with a disaster of an apartment, even though I’ve been packing for at least two weeks.  I have to be completely out of here in less than three days.  I’m not sure how this is going to happen, but it’s GOING to happen.  One way or another… it will happen.  For now, it’s time to meet my friends for drinks down at the Pier.  Priorities.

xoxo Gossip Girl

Never Settle

23 Jul 2013 1 Comment

by CoJo in fun, life Tags: , , , , , , ,

As my time here quickly dwindles before the move, I’ve been making my rounds, and spreading myself thin trying to spend time with everyone I love.  In turn, I don’t remember the last night that didn’t include drinks… plural.   I’m convinced my liver is going to give up on me before it’s time to leave.  My ex, Tyler and I had our last east coast dinner date last night.  We sat outside in the rain, because it’s summer, and why should anyone sit inside?  (“Because it’s raining” might have been a logical answer).  We ate, drank, laughed and danced around, as we always do on random dinner date nights.  We also had a serious moment.  He made me promise him one thing:  “Never settle.”  It’s a sentiment I share, and a promise I can keep.

Randomly came across this today, and loved it, so wanted to share.

bm

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