The Secret Life of the American Ruth

So I finally saw The Dark Knight for the first time, today, September 4th. Release date, July 18th. Oops. If you haven't seen it (translation: if you're lazier than I am), I suggest you do. I swear that wasn't Heath Ledger in the movie...it was just so gritty and gruesome and thrilling. Fabulous film.

I'm much more of a wait-until-the-dust-settles kind of gal. My last two boyfriends, it was an average of six weeks I waited to tell my friends that I was dating someone. Mostly because I'm superstitious and I didn't want to seem like an idiot had we stopped talking. I guess it's a habit of mine to keep it under wraps and not tell people I'm in a relationship. Not because I'm embarrassed by them but I'm embarrassed of myself to be That Girl with a boyfriend. The one that can't hang out ever again unless he's out of town or he comes with us. The Facebook albums devoted to kissy faces and making out under trees or on swings and the fun things couples do together. It annoys me so much yet I want it so bad. (Sigh.)

Anyway, to the right of my blog, you'll see I added a list of other blogs that I enjoy. Jennsylvania, the author of my three recent book purchases and pretty much a badass. Failblog, with pictures of fail, fail and more fail that has me on a roffle waffle like whoa (hate the phrase 'roffle waffle', P.S., almost as much as I hate, 'Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey' because it involves rhyming and breakfast food). I Can Has Cheezburger, because as much as I hate grammatical errors, misspellings and internet speak, those animals are really fucking cute. Observations of a Middle-Aged Sorority Girl, because she's a 40-something sister from another chapter. Overheard in New York, because it's hilarious and real and you know people have said this shit because you probably have heard someone say something that ridiculous before. Postsecret, no explanation necessary, the only reason to wake up on Sunday aside from church. And last but certainly not least, Hot Chicks With Douchebags.

Let me explain why I like this blog. It's not for the hot chicks. I know that it's for guys who are like 'Man, that chicks is DTF hot...why is she with that douche when she could be with me? I'm a nice guy.' Yeah, well, girls don't want to fuck a personality, so stop your whining and grow a penis. (And if you thought there was any ounce of seriousness on that statement, ten points deducted from Gryffindor.) Either way, everyone in these pictures are IDIOTS. The only spandex I own goes underneath my soccer shorts, NOT my leggings that I wear with a too-short-low-cut-hoe-top and big poof hair. Victoria's Secret bras? Cute, but not cute as the only thing I'm wearing on the top half of my body. Hats cocked to the side with the New Era sticker still on and the brim wide as a fucking cowboy hot might as well be a blinking light that says 'douche bag!' I thank God every day that my friends, male and female, don't look like these assholes. Just scrolling through these pictures takes me back to the one weekend I spent up at Central going through fraternity house after fraternity house and smelling the same old cologne, it's not Axe but I cannot place it for the life of me. Like I seriously just got a whiff of it.

I see people like this every day, but not to this hilarious extent, and then my parents wonder why I'm not dating anyone. I can't find anyone because the men/boys have a bromance with looking more groomed than I have ever looked or visibly treat women so poorly I want to bleed from both eyes.

Side note: I bought a silver ring last year. It's one of those three-silver-rings-put-together-to-make-one type deal. No real significance, just that I wanted to wear a ring on my right ring finger. Over dinner, my dad asked me about it. Considering how I've worn it for probably the past 300 days prior to yesterday, he asks me about it. I told him I just liked it. He asked if I was gay. I told him no. He asked if I was sure. I said yes. He asked then where is my boyfriend. I said I don't have one. He asked if I was aware I was wearing the ring on the wrong hand. I said it's not on the wrong hand, it's where I wanted to wear it and I'm not wearing it on the other ring finger because then people will think I'm engaged. He asked if I was wearing it on my right hand to show that I was engaged to my girlfriend and if I met her in my 'girls club' (translation: sorority). I finished my dinner in my bedroom.

Not the first time I've been outed, especially not by my family. Apparently because I'm 22 and not dating someone, that obviously means I'm gay. My mom asked me if I was some time at the beginning of the summer if I was because I hang out with my sorority sisters too much. I thought she was joking but she had that seriousness. I think it's because my sister is ultra-feminine, they think she's normal and I'm overly masculine. During the conversation with my dad, my mom was there, listening intently and not saying a thing. My sister wasn't, but she's brought it up to me before, asking why I don't like guys. That's a Falsey McFalserson statement, because I do like them, very much so, but because I don't have shirtless men all over my side of the room like she does (I opted for Snoop Dogg, the Rat Pack and old USA Women's Soccer team posters instead), I'm different. I wonder when I'm not there, if they sit around the table, questioning my sexuality. It's not open for discussion, really, because I like guys. And they know I do. Shit, just because I haven't brought one around in three years and joined a sorority, that got me traded to the other team? Really? It makes me want to bring one over and just start making out hardcore in the living room to the point of where they feel so uncomfortable, they won't bother me about it ever again.

It's also because all their friends' kids, who are around my age, have serious significant others and birthing children out of wedlock. The single university student obviously means there's something wrong. There's something fucking wrong with them. All of them. Stop birthing more white trash, fools.

But look at these douchebags! Holy crap people on Earth leave their houses or flats or condos or frat houses looking like this! And think they look good! No! Better than good! BEAUTIFUL! It's nauseating! And I've used way too many exclamation points. Gross.