The only thing better than being awesome is being right.

I finally did it. Yesterday, I finally told my boyfriend that I knew one of his classmates had the mad hots for him. And guess what? He agreed! It was glorious and I felt validated. Then I went back to eating my Oreo cookies. That’s how I roll.

It’s an interesting story, maybe. This girl, while I am sure is a nice enough person who probably wouldn’t club a baby seal even if you told her no one was looking, is (in my humble opinion), a douche bag. I met her once. I spent an entire morning with her, when all I wanted to see was a rat getting dragged out of a tree stump in order to fulfill my wildest movie fantasies (Groundhog Day, anyone?).

Now, I understand you can’t help who you like. Obviously, I can agree with why she likes my guy. But come on. When you like someone and his girlfriend is there, you should probably relax about it. Instead, this chick was trying too hard to be funny and goofy and too hard to make a point of knowing all sorts of things about my boyfriend. It was a classic case of ‘upstaging’ the boring girlfriend, played by me. It didn’t help that she displayed these traits with so much stupid-aggression, I really couldn’t like her, even though I tried (I was willing to settle for flat-out indifference at one point). And the worst part? She wore blue eye shadow. BLUE.

What kills me most is she somehow took over my idea. The moment I saw the “Punxsutawney” sign when I helped my guy find a place to live at school, I declared, “We must go to Groundhog Day this year!” That statement was made circa July 2008.

Now, here’s where it gets fuzzy. I don’t know how, I don’t know why exactly, but at some point, Douchey took control of the wheres and whens of Groundhog Day. In the end, we never got to see the groundhog. We were late. As I recall, I was in a Wal-Mart parking lot around the time Phil saw his shadow. It was awesome. (note the sarcasm) Could the day have gotten any better? It did! It was right around the time when Douchey announced: “We’re going to do this again next year!” Assuming I’m invited, won’t that be fun for me. I can’t wait.

No, really.

I. Can’t. Wait.

She’s the chick you invite to your party, who proceeds to get drunk and hit on your boyfriend. She’s the girl you let borrow a sweater and she gives it back, smelling like skunked Pabst Blue Ribbon. And she does it all while rockin’ out with her blue eye shadow.

The moral of the story, my friends, is this: You can hit on my boyfriend all you want. You can flirt too much, stand too close, laugh too loud and only talk about the things you two have in common….fine. But don’t dare think you’re going to pull all that shit and make me miss the groundhog all in the same morning. I’ll take one or the other, but not both. When I’ve been awake since 5am, you are messing with the wrong girl and she ain’t wearing blue eye shadow. That’s how I roll.