About shanejericho

Former starting quarterback for Byron High 2008 Championship football team, recent college grad, current accountant at Lenard, Lenard, and Davis. I'm pretty good at Guitar Hero, and am a regular at Smoky Joe's Pub on Main.

Tips for Dating Psycho Hot Chicks

Tread carefully, or she WILL burn your house down.

So I’ve been dating this girl for several months now, and things are going great! She’s super hot — and super psycho. And that’s ok, because it turns out that psycho is a major turn on for me. But I’ve learned a lot dating a psycho hot chick this past year, so I thought I’d share my findings for the rest of the guys out there who might be dating the crazier version of the fairer sex.

Tips for Dating Psycho Hot Chicks

1. Don’t ever get mixed up and call her Ann Taylor pants Lane Bryant pants. Those are two completely different girl stores.

2. When she freaks out, don’t EVER tell her she’s overreacting. She’ll overreact more.

3. If you think she’s mad at you. You’re right. Apologize immediately, and never admit you don’t know why she’s mad at you. It will only make her more mad.

4. If she asks you if you think a pretty girl is pretty:
– Don’t answer no, she’ll know you’re lying.
– Don’t answer yes, she’ll cry all night.
– The correct answer: “She’s cute, but not my type.” Girls aren’t threatened by the word “cute,” and saying “not my type” is like saying she’s not attractive without lying.

5. Don’t ever reveal your own issues. She’ll turn the conversation back to her and one-up you. Every time.

6. Don’t look at her like she’s crazy when she tells you she’s channeling emotions from her blow dryer. And definitely don’t mock her by asking the blow dryer about it’s childhood.

7. If your girlfriend decides she doesn’t like her outfit mid-date, it is your responsibility to buy her a new outfit before continuing the date.

8. When she says she wants to do something super crazy, like start a burlesque all-girl rock band, it’s best to say you support her, even if you don’t. Girls do this weird thing where they test you to make sure you’ll let them be free to do all the crazy crap they think up in their heads, and when they know you’ll let them, they don’t want to do it any more. Weird but true.

9. Never ever ask her if it’s that time of the month if she’s being mean. Even if you’re right, she will claw curse words into your back while you’re sleeping.

10. If you eat at a deli, make sure your food weighs more than hers or she’ll get mad at you for making her look like a pig.

11. Just pretend to scoop up and save that spider, don’t smash it in front of her. She’ll cry all night over the “little bitty spider” that she screamed at you to kill, kill, kill just moments before.

12. Don’t ever tell her that you don’t want her going to her pole dancing classes anymore. It will make her overreact and actually pole dance at a real strip club to spite you. And then she’ll find she likes it. And then you’re dating a stripper. Which, trust me, is not as cool as it sounds.

13. She more than likely has a ton of Facebook pictures that you don’t exactly want other dudes in the general public looking at: bikini pics, slutty Halloween pics, etc.
– Don’t ask her to delete them, she’ll get mad that you’re trying to “control her” and post MORE inappropriate slutty pics (to the delight of FB stalkers everywhere).
– Don’t hack into her account and delete them; she remembers every one of her 1,895 profile pics.
– The correct answer: hack into her account and set the security settings so no one else can see them but her. She won’t notice, and she only cares about seeing herself anyways.

14. Clear your internet history after reading this. If she sees that you read this, a psycho girl freak-out is in your future.

15. Last of all, don’t ever admit that blog post you wrote is about her

That’s it! Hope it helps you other guys out there when it comes to the dangerous and stupid idea of dating the ever-alluring psycho chick. God speed.

“Don’t make me mad or I’ll stab you.”


My Date with a Psycho Chick, a.k.a., the Greatest Night of my Life

I went on a first date Saturday with this girl I met online. I was a little nervous, I admit. But when the date was over, and I thought about how, by the end of the night, I spent $200 and eaten nothing, was forced to talk to 3 of her ex-boyfriends on her cell phone, had my pants set on fire, and lost consciousness twice for completely different reasons, I can say this: it was the best date of my entire life.

I won’t say who this girl is, but she is completely and totally insane. I guess there were signs from the beginning. She has a Sesame Street tattoo, is really into horoscopes, told me she is an ex-model with her own fashion blog, said her favorite rapper is Ke$ha, and thinks Stephenie Meyers is the greatest writer of our generation, but I didn’t know how crazy she really was until the moment I first realized she spiked my drink with Adderall and Abilify.

90% of beautiful girls are psycho. The rest are on medication.

Not sure why I liked it so much. I guess I must be really bored with my life. I mean, most guys would have been a little peeved when she made me wait an hour for her to finish getting ready… at her parent’s house… with her father who doesn’t speak English… and is a POW for some foreign war we haven’t even heard of in this country. Some guys would have called it a night after she sobbed through the first fifteen minutes of dinner and called three ex-boyfriends, twice each, once to tell them she was “totally over him and with someone new and hot and we’re making out right now, yes right now, right as I’m talking to you, I can make out and talk at the same time, you know I can, stop talking to me like I’m stupid,” and then a second time to beg for forgiveness and make me talk to them for her. Most guys wouldn’t have liked that. But me…wow, for some reason it really turned me on.

Seriously, it was awesome. One minute, she’s hand-feeding me chocolate lava cake and licking her fingers all sexy-like, and then the next she’s splashing wine in my face and storming out for no reason telling everyone on the way out that I’m “emotionally raping” her. She’s so crazy it’s fantastic.

I don’t think there are any other girls out there that would ask me what baby names I’d like for our children one minute , and the next try to give me a “homemade” tattoo of her face on my arm. And why does she carry a road flare in her purse? I don’t know, but when she accidentally lit and dropped it in my lap while I was doing 65 down the highway, I didn’t really have time to think about it. But this could be love. And if love isn’t watching her freak out when she loses her cell phone, then letting her have my shoes because her feet got cold just to watch her throw them in a sewer because I stepped on a rock and said “ow!” which made her feel guilty and she doesn’t like being manipulated like that, and then helping her shoplift underwear from Forever 21 isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

My friends keep asking me if I “got lucky.” Well, if waking up alone in a dumpster behind an adult-themed bakery is lucky, then yes, I’d say I got pretty lucky.

Gotta go. I have 1,784 texts from her I have to respond to.

I’m Starting to Regret My Hunger Games Tattoo

Last month, the Hunger Games movie came out, and I admit it, I really liked it. I loved the books, and the movie was everything I hoped it could be. Still, now that the fervor has died down and life is back to normal, I’m starting to regret my Hunger Games tattoo. Just a little.

I mean, it seemed like such a good idea at the time. Tax season had just ended, so things were quiet around my accounting office, and then during lunch Ted just blurted out, “Hey, wouldn’t it be hilarious if Shane got a tattoo right now!” and I was like, “Don’t dare me! I’ll totally do it!” and then Ted was like “I totally dare you, you pansy,” and I was like “Oh it’s on now, son!” and all of us just closed up the office and headed out and the next thing I knew I had a tattoo of the mocking jay on my arm.

I guess it was kind of a rash decision, but at the time I was really happy I did it. Well, by “happy” I mean I was laughing because I totally got a Hunger Games tattoo on my arm and couldn’t believe I actually did that, and all the guys at work, like, worshipped me for having the balls to not only get a tattoo, but the grass to get one of a silly book for teen girls. Their words, not mine.

It was awesome. Then the weeks went by and suddenly no one at work was talking about the tattoo anymore and I stopped getting “likes” on Facebook about it, so now…jeez… maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all.

I mean, I like the overall message of “May the Odds be Ever in your Favor,” but this thing is going to be on my arm FOREVER. I didn’t really stop to think about that when I was in the chair drinking that Heineken Ted bought me and betting Kenneth $20 that I wouldn’t flinch when the needle started buzzing, but now that I’ve had a few moments alone to think about it…maybe it wasn’t the best decision I ever made.

Wow, now that I’m actually typing this out, and reliving the moment in my head when we left the parlor and all the guys were carrying me on their shoulders and then play-hitting me on my sore arm while we all got beers at O’Connells and laughed about the whole thing and how “legendary” it all was, just before Ryan threw up on a bar stool and the bouncer kicked us out for throwing darts in people’s beer pitchers and then Ted asked if he could crash on my couch because “things aren’t so good with the wife,” I’m starting to freak out a little bit. Ten years from now, this will be like having a James Cameron’s Titanic tattoo on my arm, or a tattoo of the Chocolate Rain kid. Ah! What have I done?! What am I doing with my life?! Why do I feel like I’m asleep all of the time and that I have no purpose in life?!! I’m just numb all the time!

Sigh. I miss high school.

I just did the hell outta those taxes

Tax season is officially at the halfway mark. Here’s the score:
Taxes- Zero
Me- A Bazillion
That’s right, I’m ripping taxes a new one right now.  And me and my accounting team at Lenard, Lenard, and Davis are undefeated, like my senior year at Byron High a few years back when I led our football team to the State Championship. And with my recently acquired accounting degree from state college, I’m crushing W2’s and cracking 1099-B’s like a retarded grizzly bear on crack! Where you at, IRS?!

That’s right, being a tax accountant is just as exciting as being an all-state quarterback, and I’m definitely not depressed about the direction my life has taken since high school. I’m jamming those K-1 forms down the government’s throat, nailing deductions and exemptions like nobody’s business, crushing 1099-MISC to the point that it’s own mother won’t be able to identify the body.

suck it IRS“Oh, no,” you might say. “The deadline is rushing in on me and it doesn’t look like my 1040 will make it to the end zone!” BOOM! Here I come with an extension and additional deductions. Oh snap! No he didn’t!!! Suddenly you’re pretending to pop open your tax forms like a soda and drink it in the end zone, then do a custom high-five sequence with your accountant in his office. Penalty for excessive celebration in my cubicle? Yea, fool, whatchu gunna do ’bout it?! Chest bump!!

See? This job isn’t boring or unsatisfying at all. I don’t spend my day watching clips of my championship game on youtube. I don’t worry that I  peaked in high school. There’s nothing better than hitting a 1099-SSA form so hard that it doesn’t get up right away, and then limps off the field with a medic while the crowd applauds that it was simply able to walk after such a devastating blow. Yea, that’s what I do every day, and it really gets my adrenaline going. This steady, secure desk job is making my student loans wish they had never been born!

That’s what I’m all about, doing the hell out of your taxes, week-in week-out, giving 110%. There’s no “i” in taxes, but there is an “i” in IRS, so lets show those losers whose house they’re in! Who’s yo’ daddy?! Yea!

Sigh, wow, I’m depressed.