Adventures * Sherilynn Macale (HeyCheri)

Introducing, Sex Monster.

December 1, 2011 in Adventures, Dating & Boys, Funny, Sex

“I have to write about you. You’re amazing. You have to let me.” I’m begging politely.
“I don’t know … I don’t mind that, but I refuse to be identified.” He seems certain.
Determined, I add, “We can give you some kind of fake name, okay? Then no one has to know who you are.”
He pauses for a moment, possibly contemplating? Then says, “Okay. But I get to pick the name.”
I laugh. “Now I’m scared. I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Alright, let me think about it first.” Conversation ensues as normal, though his mind seems to be somewhere else when we’re speaking. Suddenly, “I came up with a name.”
I perk up, smiling. “Yeah? What is it?”
“… Sex Monster.”

I burst out laughing. See, I would have chosen something like Prince Charming, haha, but he insisted, okay? Fortunately, I think my readers have a bright enough sense of humor to get the joke. Or that’s the hope, anyway. You might all be lame. I would never know.

The amazing thing about Prince Charming, er, Sex Monster, is that he’s laying next to me right now, and he’s … What’s the word? Content? He’s perfectly content, and it’s amazing. I would say it’s exciting to be around someone whose company you just really enjoy. I can’t even come up with words to describe him in a way that does him justice and conveys how cool and interesting he is as a person, but I guess that’s how it goes sometimes?

I hope my readers aren’t too shocked.

In the past, I have definitely written openly about relationships.
Let me just say: This was not a good idea.

The difference between then and now is, I suppose, that I’m older? A bit wiser? Not quite as knowledgeable as I’d like to be, but I guess it’s good enough.

God, that’s a tangent. How bored are all of you reading my blog? Jesus.

Okay — so here’s the deal. I like this guy. He takes up a good portion of my social life (or pretty much is my social life, for the most part), but I suddenly find myself with a lot of free time on my hands, and the need to spend all of that — or a good majority of that — free time with … Yes, the Sex Monster. Oh man, that sounds bad. I hate that he’s making me call him that. He’s probably loving this.

Where was I going with that? Uh.

Oh, so the reason I’m introducing him to you guys is because, hello. He’s seriously the most interesting thing happening in my life right now, and I can’t help myself — I need to talk about it. That sounds bad. No one should ever need to want to talk about someone, but the feeling he gives me sometimes is like … Again, indescribable.

Are you interested in hearing more?

I won’t put a face to the name. I won’t put a name to the fake name. This Prince Charming, AKA “Sex Monster” — wait, wait, he’s saying something. He says that he should have chosen a porno name instead because, and I quote, “It would be funny.” I asked him what, and he says, “Lexington Steel.” Hold on, he’s retracting that. He says that might be a real porn star, so we should come up with something else.

So okay. Now I’m way off topic, but this sounds way cooler than what I was about to say. So actually …

You tell me: What do you think his fake name should be? I’d be happy to answer any questions you have about him, as long as it’s not too personal or precise — again, we’d both like to keep his identity a secret. :) It allows us both to be more open about our relationship in a safe way? Or something to that effect. Help?

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Why going out alone is freaking awesome!

November 13, 2011 in Adventures, Friends & Partying

No makeup! Remnants of last night’s curly hair situation.

I really hate jinxing myself, but I am having such a fantastic weekend. And last night was seriously so crazy and amazing that it’s left me wondering why I’ve been so hesitant to go out and do things outside of my apartment!

My problem has always been hanging out with people who like to go to these ridiculous, clubby-type environments — it’s just not my style. I’m from this tiny, local-pub filled town called Stockton, so I dig things that are more low key and conversation-having enabled.

Last night, determined to do things my own way, I decided to go out alone. I spent some time curling my hair, getting my makeup exactly how I wanted, and throwing on a chill outfit while spritzing on my own smell-good cocktail. Then it was out the door.

On befriending tipsy strangers

While listening to a few Spotify playlists on the way to catch the train, I notice a group of five dudes drinking out of these precarious-looking blue cups, huddled at my stop and waiting for the same bus line. They’re staring at me, which is always awkward (and almost kinda creepy), so to break the tension, I smile, wave, and introduce myself.

“Where are you headed?” One guy asks.
“Nowhere, really. I was thinking about just trying a beer I’ve never had before at every bar I end up in,” I reply.
“That sounds fun. Who are you going with?”
“No one.” I say, very matter-of-factly.
“Seriously? Are you meeting someone there?” They seem surprised.
“Nope!” I’m smiling.
“Sooo, you’re just going all by yourself?”
“Pretty much.”

The group seems shocked by this idea, then of course insists that they tag along with me, citing how I’ll need protection from the creepy guys I could potentially run into at the bar, and joking that I’m obviously a very lucky girl to have run into such a nice group of dudes. Lol.

After a whole lot of laughing and dicking around, I find out that two of the guys in this group are also from Stockton (small world!), one of which is getting married on Saturday and is actually the reason they’re all out drinking. The three of us Stocktonians bond instantly, and after being offered a sip from one of their blue cups (supposedly some kind of Vodka mix), I politely decline, noting the fact that I’m not in the mood to get roofied by strangers. They high-five me, praising my paranoid Stockton mentality (it’s a pretty dangerous city, ha) and offer to get me my first beer at whatever bar I’m headed to instead.

Score!

I should have done this ages ago!

If you’re wondering where I went, it was basically a bunch of places in the Lower Haight area of San Francisco. Haight Street is pretty much covered in shittons of dive-bar situations, so it’s like, if you’re not exactly digging one scene, you can just bounce on out to the next.

Some of the dive-bars I visited:

Noc Noc – This neon-lights filled dive bar with tons of dudes in plaid shirts and several frumpy women. Lol. Cool reggae music, interesting furniture, and a shitload of strangely-named beers that I’ve never heard of before.
That one place next to Noc Noc – Oh man, what’s this place called? I could look at a map, but I’m lazy sooo … Yeah. Not gonna happen. But this place basically has a ton of beers from all over the world ranging in taste variations, and all really awesome. It’s a little bright in here and they don’t serve liquor (it’s a beer-only bar), but it’s pretty cool if you’re already drunk.
Mad Dog In The Fog – Always a favorite, and right across the street from that one place next to Noc Noc (ha). Dimly lit, awesome booths for large groups of friends, and never a waiting line for the restroom. There were seven of us in total by the time we ended up here, so it was fun to sit around talking loudly and drunkenly, poking fun at each other and laughing our asses off.

I ended up trying, like, four different kinds of beers, all of which were bomb-tastic, and all while making new friends, running into old ones, and having a generally fantastic and drunken time. I’m pretty sure we hit up another bar, but man — it’s a blur, and checking in on Foursquare totally slipped my mind or I’d be looking at my check-in history right now for reference. And yes, I was totally wasted by the end of it all, but it was ridiculously fun. You have no idea.

Also, no. I didn’t pay for any of my drinks yesterday. And yes, I love my life.

Feeling totally freed

It’s such a crazy experience doing things solo. I had an amazing time not having to worry about anyone but myself, getting to make my own decisions about where I want to go, when I want to do it, and not having to babysit anyone’s feelings — it’s the best. I highly recommend this for people who don’t necessarily hate everyone, but definitely dislike the majority of their current social circle.

Here’s what I’ve noticed: Activities I’ve usually found unpleasant while with friends or in large groups have ended up being incredibly enjoyable when done alone. This has been the case for me with several experiences, not simply limited to bar-hopping and drinking. I’m a very social person by nature, but I just have such particular tastes that being around the same group of people for long periods of time starts to grate on my nerves.

After last night’s very-positive experience, however, I’ve made the decision to take even more control of my life than I already do, and just do whatever-the-fuck I want without worrying about everyone else. I can’t please everyone, right? Life is way too short to go through it living for everyone else — I refuse to continue this way.

This morning, for example, I took myself to this breakfast-all-the-time place called Kate’s Kitchen and ordered the most bomb breakfast plate ever: 2 poached eggs, 2 ridiculously large sausage patties, one ginormous biscuit, home-style fries, and a cup of hot coffee. Toppings included fresh blueberry jam, butter and Tapatio sauce for my eggs. Mmm!

… Actually, that sounds pretty good right now.

Off to heat up this box of leftovers and play some video games,
XOXO Cheri XOXO

PS! I should probably note that I don’t actually “hate” my friends. :) I love my friends! They’re just into some things that I don’t personally dig, and I seriously dislike the feeling of obligation that comes with having to do everything that they want to do, versus making my own choices.

Going solo, I can be completely selfish with my decisions. I prefer being alone! Strange concept, but that’s me. No one’s going to die by not being invited to hang out with me, and not having to sit through my company. :P

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Let’s talk about porn, personal bankers and money.

October 21, 2011 in Adventures, Funny, Sex

This is one of those stories that should probably not be told publicly — I can even hear the groans now. No, Cheri, no! Turn back! But pffft. In light of recent events, I find this story to be incredibly fitting and appropriately, uh, inappropriate.

Remember that story I told you guys a few days ago about how I lost my cellphone when I was dancing in some club, and when I reached in to grab it from my purse, it was gone? Yeah. Well. My phone has this really cute pink wallet-case thing on it that I actually used to stash a bunch of things, including my California ID and my Debit Card. Both of which were stolen along with my phone, obviously.

Because I’m a responsible little person, I stopped into my bank a few days afterwards to discuss replacing that sucker. And being the friendly sort of person that I am, I quickly made friends with a “Personal Banker” as he walked me through how to handle my shitty situation. For the sake of this story, let’s refer to my banker as *Pete.

The dilemma with Pete

Fast forward through a lot of personal introductions involving telling Pete what I do for a living, how I lost my phone, blah-dee-blah, and you’ve reached today where he’s sent me an email saying, “Hey, your replacement card just came in. Come pick it up.” But much more professional-sounding than that, of course.

So today I take off during work to go grab it since banking hours are conveniently only open while normal people with jobs who actually have to use banks don’t have a free moment to leave the office. I meet up with Pete, we get my card set up, and as he’s scrolling through my account he’s like, “So I notice a fee here that came in a few days after your card was actually cancelled.”

Immediately I’m all, “What? Really? How much is it for?”
“$39.99 (USD).” He says.
I’m racking my brain for what I could have possibly spent $40 on in the past week, and I just literally have no idea. “Where is it from?” I ask.
“It says AcceptCharge — that’s it. Does that sound familiar?”
“Uh, no.” I say, pretty damn sure I have no clue what he’s talking about.

He goes into some short speech, throwing out buzzwords like “dispute” and “claim” and blahblah, basically saying he can call in and have it cancelled, when suddenly it hits me – Oh shit. That’s that porn site I subscribed to.

I solemnly swear that I am not a freak.

Okay, so. Here’s where you’re probably like, “Yeah, this definitely sounds like an inappropriate story, Cheri.”

But here’s the thing, guys. It’s not like I’m regularly subscribed to porn. Seriously, I’m not. But uh, there are definitely some sites I’ll curiously look at now and then that happen to be free, and the clips I happen to continue clicking on all belong to this one porn brand or whatever. So I’m like, okay. I’m gonna go check out that brand and see what else it has.

This site ends up having like, all these preview clips or whatever of what looks like fantastic and high quality stuff, and come on — we all look at porn, right? And don’t you kind of sit there going, “I wonder what this full movie looks like?” Or, “What could possibly be so great about paying for this shit?”

And recently, I was all, whatever. I never take myself shopping, I never spend my money on anything but food or video games and booze on the weekends, it’s not like I’m running around getting regular sex anywhere, and I’ve just always wanted to see WTF was behind these paid subscription things, so why not?! A one-month peek won’t kill me.

So yeah.
I subscribed, like, two weeks ago.

I know you’re probably like, “What’s it like? What’s behind the pay-to-play?!”
I’ll tell you.

For all you poor fuckers or under-eighteen-perverts who don’t have your own credit cards or something, let me just say this now: Save your money because paying for porn sites is not worth it.

Probably the only cool thing about actually paying for a porn site is that it lets you download high quality movies to your computer, and trust me — even those aren’t that great. Once you realize that you have unlimited access to porn, it really doesn’t make it as fun as it was when you felt like you were being a cheapskate and watching the free stuff.

Too much of a good thing can definitely make it bad, and honestly, after two or three days in, I stopped watching it.

… On the bright side: Unlimited porn.

Back to the bank

“Would you like me to call in and dispute the payment?” Pete’s asking. Oh god, he can see right through me. Oh god, he’s totally disputed payments like this before. Oh god, he’s gonna think I’m a pervert.

Isn’t it hilarious that a porn site would cleverly disguise its name in your banking statement to be something unassuming like “AcceptCharge” or whatever-the-hell it was? I’m guessing this has more to do with protecting undersexed husbands from their snooping wives rather than preserving the reputations of curiously horny female twentysomethings with their personal bankers. Eep.

But when you’re sitting there wondering if you should dispute the payment or not, you get confused because the porn site has disguised itself way too well, and you end up embarrassing yourself anyway because you wind up sitting with your banker trying to figure out what this mysterious charge is.

:-)

In a poor attempt to save face — I suck at lying, by the way, so I know he thought something was up — I blurt, “No, no! I think I remember what that charge is from, actually!”
“… Ah, okay.” Pete says, leaving it at that.

Thank.
You.
Jesus.

No more smalltalk. Gimme the card.

I thank him profusely for his help and bounce outta there as fast as I can to get back to work. I just barely miss catching a muni — that’s always fun — cursing “Of course” under my breath. When I finally catch one, I plop into a seat with a nice window view and think to myslelf, Wow. I really need to cancel that subscription.

… Either that or actually put it to use, right?

The downside of subscribing to porn sites, however, is that they freaking make it impossible to unsubscribe. It’s like trying to cancel your XBOX Live subscription or something, which is, coincidentally, also a fucking nightmare. These companies want your money, after all.

The sneaky jerks cleverly hide all of the “Cancel Payment” links or “Unsubscribe” buttons so you end up having to go through some sort of phone process just to get this shit to end. And seriously, who wants to sit on the phone and discuss why you’re unsubscribing to a fucking porn site? Really? Come on.

Lesson Learned

Basically, you are all so damn lucky that I’m learning these lessons for you. I just saved you, like, $40 right now. Do not ever subscribe to porn sites. Stick to the crappy clips on free websites that make you think you’re missing out on something — I am speaking from first hand experience, guys. I really am.

Also, don’t lose your wallet once every month.
That’s probably a really good tip.

My bank, by the way, is awesome because they just gave me this fee-waiver thing which basically means that all of my banking with them is free for the rest of my life. Amazing. Not sure how they’d feel about that elite status if they started acquainting me with those mouth-breathing basement-dwellers who watch porn all day.

… Which I swear I do not.
Seriously.
You believe me, right?

And Pete, if you’re reading this, hi.
I swear I’m not weird (*edit: okay, maybe just a little), and I hope this made you laugh.

Off to make the most of my subscription before I attempt to cancel it again,
XOXO Cheri XOXO

PS! Aren’t you glad I didn’t stop blogging just to please that one guy? :) Also, I swear I’m not watching porn right now, ha. I’m going out. Jeez. It’s Friday.

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Sherilynn Macale (HeyCheri)

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