so in my boredom this past week and a half, i've resigned myself to syndicated television...most often in which i find completely mind-numbingly detrimental to my intelligence. however, i lack self-control when it comes to most things that are bad for me (i.e., vodka, nicotine, men, etc.). although, i'm not convinced that television dramas are as toxic to brain stimulation...say...as much as "robot chicken". but i will never stop watching robot chicken because i believe it encompasses a whole different level of intelligence and understanding for one to have the ability to appreciate the humor that the writers bring to the table. YOU GO SETH GREEN! i'm in love with you for your comedic skills that are far superior to the rest of the world's population.
but alas! i find my a.d.d. kicking in. what was my point? oh right. i am addicted to television dramas. so much in fact that i find it incredulous when i'm watching a repeat of a repeat. how sad is that? sounds like i need to get a life. and that's not all. but my point is...i'm saved! i had never watched "house" prior to a few days ago. now i can look forward to the unsettling feeling of watching repeats of reruns of "house", and i couldn't be more ecstatic! and yes, i'm completely serious. (i've already admitted to needing to get a life so leave me alone).
it is no wonder that "house" has received the endless fascinating reviews and prestigious hollywood awards it has. it's really fucking funny! yes. i understand it's a drama. but it's really fucking funny. hugh laurie cracks my shit up. i find myself also in love with him...sorry seth green, the truth is out! his character, "house" is completely and utterly atrocious, egotistical, insensitive and crass but the man he portrays is anything but stupid. his sarcasm and his inability to be delicate makes me laugh. others may find him completely vulgar...i find it refreshingly remarkable that he's entirely uncouth and honest while lacking diplomacy. (gawd...i love a man who makes me laugh). i gauge a television drama's success by it's ability to move me while still having the capacity to make me laugh. i just wish i had taken the time to sit down and watch it sooner.
i guess if there is any applicable reason for me to bitch...it would be that enough people simply do not appreciate those who are blunt and to the point, and who do not care to beat around the bush. after all, we are all adults and do i really need to sugarcoat the truth? why? again. WHY. in case you haven't noticed, this isn't fucking disney world and i'm not your fairy fucking godmother. but i am here to tell those of you who lack diplomacy...CONGRATU-FUCKING-LATIONS! you rock! and in my book, you're my equal. now i might not always agree with you but at least i'll respect you, and i can guarantee that you'd rather have me respect you than like you or agree with you.
p.s. diplomacy is not always a bad thing. in fact, i'm positive that if i had exercised tact more frequently in my lifetime that it would have probably been to my benefit. that being said, i'd also probably understand those who lack diplomacy a lot less, and appreciate those with tact only a little bit more than i already do. hey. this is my reality. this is my blog. if i want to live in my self-delusional world where diplomacy isn't necessary...than i should be able to.
31 August 2010
27 August 2010
Strong Enough
so i have this pseudo-joke with my friends about having my own personal theme song, (and NO it's not "bitch" by meredith brooks). in fact, the song that i claim to be my personal theme song is "strong enough" by sheryl crow. i have to admit that i'm out of the denial phase and have accepted that i've only let myself down all these years by convincing myself that one day i'd find a man who was strong enough, and not just strong enough but patient enough, kind enough, smart enough, sexy enough, (ummm...just because i'm a masochist doesn't mean i can't also be completely shallow!), oh, and funny enough to be my man. let's face it...the list goes on and on and on but why should i really sit here and pretend that all those "enoughs" are EVER or WILL ever be enough? saying it out loud doesn't change that no one will ever be strong enough to be my man.
i know i probably sound somewhat either really pathetic and sad or irrefutably self-confident and enlightened. i do believe it's somewhere in the middle - intersecting at "pitiful" boulevard and "inspirited" avenue. ahh...shit. i like to think about .01% (no. that is not a typo!), of the time that i live in a fairy fucking land and believing there was a man out there who was strong enough to be my man was not some ridiculous novel idea. but that other 99.99% of the time when i can't stop hitting myself on the head with a hammer has only made me realize i've set the bar entirely way too high, and all i'm ever doing is setting up the man to fail. how atrocious and twisted is that? especially because we ALL know that men are borne with dicks so therefore, are already about two steps behind when it comes to understanding women. i guess that means we should cut the men some slack? OR...how 'bout NOT?!
oh and p.fucking-s. don't think i'm just sitting here typing this shit up because i'm a man-hater or that i'm a woman scorned. because i'm only the latter. yes. i have been scorned but what woman hasn't been? and for that matter, what man hasn't been? my point is, i'm not just here blabbing about one specific incident...i'm here to bitch about several. i'm sick and fucking tired of throwing men a bone. how 'bout throwing this bitch a bone already? i'm tired of putting up with men's juvenile bullshit...they ALL want their fucking cake and eat it too. yeah, yeah, yeah. well BITE ME! because i want my cake and eat it too, and i want friggin' cream cheese frosting AND a side of vodka. men (straight men) think that JUST because they DON'T own more shoes than women that they can't possibly be as big of a pain-in-the-ass as a woman. i'm here to tell you...you're almost ALL fucking hassles - almost all of the fucking time. so even put that in your pipe and smoke it!
and another thing...most women put up with the fact that men are total hassles (not to mention jerks), because we truly love and are in love with all of your dumb asses. well...that and a man has to be totally hot, or know how to cook, or be professionally and/or financically successful, or just really frickin' attentive. but if a man is really just ordinary or unexceptional at any of those things: hot, successful, attentive, and just an average cook? well i'm here to rain on all of you idiots' parades, because you're likely NOT to be worth all the fucking turmoil either. so don't talk to me about being a pain-in-the-ass when i'm pretty sure that i'm the hot one, (who is clearly insecure for no reason), who knows how to cook, is professionally successful, and is very attentive. don't forget that i've managed to accomplish all of this while doing laundry, cleaning house, and keeping the 'fridge stocked for your deceitful and ungrateful ass.
so this is what i have to say about them apples. you just fucked yourself. because i'll go be a hot, successful and attentive woman to someone else while making them dinner, doing their laundry, cleaning their house, and keeping their 'fridge stocked with beer and their freezer stocked with vodka. and you know what? that someone else will thank me for it and not treat me like i'm an inconvenience because i'm slightly neurotic like four times a year. try dealing with a woman who REALLY pms's every fourth week and then call me crazy.
yeah. so go right on ahead and be not strong enough to be my man. i'll go on being a pain-in-the-ass for some other man who is hotter, more successful, and more attentive in every which way i (and you) can possibly think of, (without just coming out and blatantly stating the obvious underlying message here), and you can go on being a pussy for some other idiot, doormat of a woman. because the one thing i can positively state is this, i'm certain you're not strong enough to be my man but i was indeed strong enough to be yours.
yeah. think about it. who's balls are bigger now?
i know i probably sound somewhat either really pathetic and sad or irrefutably self-confident and enlightened. i do believe it's somewhere in the middle - intersecting at "pitiful" boulevard and "inspirited" avenue. ahh...shit. i like to think about .01% (no. that is not a typo!), of the time that i live in a fairy fucking land and believing there was a man out there who was strong enough to be my man was not some ridiculous novel idea. but that other 99.99% of the time when i can't stop hitting myself on the head with a hammer has only made me realize i've set the bar entirely way too high, and all i'm ever doing is setting up the man to fail. how atrocious and twisted is that? especially because we ALL know that men are borne with dicks so therefore, are already about two steps behind when it comes to understanding women. i guess that means we should cut the men some slack? OR...how 'bout NOT?!
oh and p.fucking-s. don't think i'm just sitting here typing this shit up because i'm a man-hater or that i'm a woman scorned. because i'm only the latter. yes. i have been scorned but what woman hasn't been? and for that matter, what man hasn't been? my point is, i'm not just here blabbing about one specific incident...i'm here to bitch about several. i'm sick and fucking tired of throwing men a bone. how 'bout throwing this bitch a bone already? i'm tired of putting up with men's juvenile bullshit...they ALL want their fucking cake and eat it too. yeah, yeah, yeah. well BITE ME! because i want my cake and eat it too, and i want friggin' cream cheese frosting AND a side of vodka. men (straight men) think that JUST because they DON'T own more shoes than women that they can't possibly be as big of a pain-in-the-ass as a woman. i'm here to tell you...you're almost ALL fucking hassles - almost all of the fucking time. so even put that in your pipe and smoke it!
and another thing...most women put up with the fact that men are total hassles (not to mention jerks), because we truly love and are in love with all of your dumb asses. well...that and a man has to be totally hot, or know how to cook, or be professionally and/or financically successful, or just really frickin' attentive. but if a man is really just ordinary or unexceptional at any of those things: hot, successful, attentive, and just an average cook? well i'm here to rain on all of you idiots' parades, because you're likely NOT to be worth all the fucking turmoil either. so don't talk to me about being a pain-in-the-ass when i'm pretty sure that i'm the hot one, (who is clearly insecure for no reason), who knows how to cook, is professionally successful, and is very attentive. don't forget that i've managed to accomplish all of this while doing laundry, cleaning house, and keeping the 'fridge stocked for your deceitful and ungrateful ass.
so this is what i have to say about them apples. you just fucked yourself. because i'll go be a hot, successful and attentive woman to someone else while making them dinner, doing their laundry, cleaning their house, and keeping their 'fridge stocked with beer and their freezer stocked with vodka. and you know what? that someone else will thank me for it and not treat me like i'm an inconvenience because i'm slightly neurotic like four times a year. try dealing with a woman who REALLY pms's every fourth week and then call me crazy.
yeah. so go right on ahead and be not strong enough to be my man. i'll go on being a pain-in-the-ass for some other man who is hotter, more successful, and more attentive in every which way i (and you) can possibly think of, (without just coming out and blatantly stating the obvious underlying message here), and you can go on being a pussy for some other idiot, doormat of a woman. because the one thing i can positively state is this, i'm certain you're not strong enough to be my man but i was indeed strong enough to be yours.
yeah. think about it. who's balls are bigger now?
26 August 2010
Nostalgia
i need to admit that one of my greatest memories (as of late), is sitting in bed and watching those stupid infomercials for time life music. tonight it was rock ballads from the eighties and nineties! it was so fucking awesome that i almost peed my pants (not that i don't already have the majority of those "hair band" love songs in my library but nonetheless there's always a song or two that is forgotten). i also have to confess that i've become especially sentimental for the sixties and seventies love rock songs, so much in fact that i downloaded a shit ton of the music. i'm desperate but not desperate enough to drop almost two-hundred bones for the whole collection. DUH. sorry time life music! not really!
my neighbors likely hate me after playing hours on end of this genre of music but i have this overwhelming need for some very specific nostalgic memories that simply make me smile. i can't tell you how many times i've seen tony orlando promoting this collection and as much as his hair disturbs me, i can't get enough of anne murray and john denver. all right. that's not the complete truth; although, i have been diggin' anne and john, i can't stop listening to leo sayer's "when i need you". it's totally sick and twisted (yes, i know), that i've probably listened to that song twenty plus times tonight but i just LOVE it. i can't hardly even stand myself because i'm so completely in love with the song. besides...let's face it...music like that just doesn't exist anymore.
moreover, it's totally comforting and honest and sentimental, and i can only drown my sorrows so much in booze (among other things). as a result, i've been forced to find fortitude in the only thing i can relate to right now and that is music. this specific collection and genre of music is meaningful to me on a very deep and personal level for reasons i do not care to expand on at the moment. the more important message that i'm trying to portray is that in my anger and hurt, i have had the ability to find the peace of mind, in addition to the dauntlessness to look forward with the grace and dignity of a woman. don't worry...i'll still be here to bitch about something. i'm not that optimistic or idealistic - i'm positive i'll always be cynical and jaded. that, and i still hate mostly everyone.
my neighbors likely hate me after playing hours on end of this genre of music but i have this overwhelming need for some very specific nostalgic memories that simply make me smile. i can't tell you how many times i've seen tony orlando promoting this collection and as much as his hair disturbs me, i can't get enough of anne murray and john denver. all right. that's not the complete truth; although, i have been diggin' anne and john, i can't stop listening to leo sayer's "when i need you". it's totally sick and twisted (yes, i know), that i've probably listened to that song twenty plus times tonight but i just LOVE it. i can't hardly even stand myself because i'm so completely in love with the song. besides...let's face it...music like that just doesn't exist anymore.
moreover, it's totally comforting and honest and sentimental, and i can only drown my sorrows so much in booze (among other things). as a result, i've been forced to find fortitude in the only thing i can relate to right now and that is music. this specific collection and genre of music is meaningful to me on a very deep and personal level for reasons i do not care to expand on at the moment. the more important message that i'm trying to portray is that in my anger and hurt, i have had the ability to find the peace of mind, in addition to the dauntlessness to look forward with the grace and dignity of a woman. don't worry...i'll still be here to bitch about something. i'm not that optimistic or idealistic - i'm positive i'll always be cynical and jaded. that, and i still hate mostly everyone.
25 August 2010
Insomnia Is Real
it's almost two in the morning. i'm tired and i have an appointment in the morning...i should go to sleep. but i can't. i mean i could...i just don't want to at the moment. clearly. mostly i just want to bitch cause that's what i do. besides after the events that have transpired over the last few days...it's likely all i will do if i attempt to sleep is toss and turn and then have dreams that lead to me kicking and screaming violently. not that i'll really know any differently because i'm not awake except when i do wake up i'll be sweating profusely because apparently kicking and screaming in your sleep is similar to running a marathon in ninety degree weather and five thousand percent humidity, (yes. that is an exaggeration. i know. i don't care).
my point is...i'm better off venting before i attempt to conquer lions and tigers and bears in my dreams, and then maybe i'll just have to fend off the human kinds of lions and tigers and bears and the battle will be so much easier. kicking a human being in the crotch in your dreams is so much easier than slaying alligators!
so in my insomniac state this is what i have to say...i have been trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel (a vision more so than a light), that i once held so strongly onto and in my madness have quite often forgotten. it is a light that makes me realize and has always made me realize that i am in control of my own destiny, and that the path i choose is only by my own decisions and the wrongs that i make are only mine to own up to, (at this point...is it even necessary to once again point out that i'm a masochist?). i've often both consciously and sub-consciously allowed the bad to outweigh the good and i've frequently decided to wallow in my own self-pity while bringing those around me perhaps not just down but a victim of my wrath because i hate that feeling of losing control.
however, in rethinking this sad state of mind i have somehow found myself in (once again!), that i can now say, i do believe that i have gotten over myself, and i realize that my loss of self-control was through my own bad choices, and that everything that has transpired both good and bad is only a result of my own attitude - a behavior that is sometimes good, bad and ugly...mostly really effin' ugly (if you wanna know the truth).
but that doesn't mean i'm still not pissed off or that i don't hate mostly everyone because i still do. it also doesn't mean that i'm entirely at fault for everything bad that happens in my life...it simply means that i haven't always reacted in a productive and beneficial manner to the shitty nuances that life likes to poop on my head. at this point in my life i'd like to think that i'm mature enough to take responsibility for my own actions and that i'm accountable for myself, and i believe that's what i'm doing my damndest to accomplish. (is damndest a word? i don't have patience for looking that shit up right now and at two-thirty in the morning my grammar and spelling inevitably sucks). HOWEVER, let's face it...i don't always respond, react or behave appropriately or accordingly, and it can be quite detrimental but for fuck sake...i feel as if i'm human and punishing people for wronging me is not some grossly abnormal human reaction.
maybe i'm wrong. and so what if i am? cause i mostly hate everyone so i'm sure i don't give a flying eff-u-c-fucking-k if someone doesn't agree with me. what i do care about is pushing the good people in my life away because i'm a selfish and unforgiving human being, and keeping the bad people around because i'm a masochist. classic "tina" move. i want to hang on to those individuals who i will never really be able to count on while alienating those who have always been there for me. now who's an asshole?
my point is...i'm better off venting before i attempt to conquer lions and tigers and bears in my dreams, and then maybe i'll just have to fend off the human kinds of lions and tigers and bears and the battle will be so much easier. kicking a human being in the crotch in your dreams is so much easier than slaying alligators!
so in my insomniac state this is what i have to say...i have been trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel (a vision more so than a light), that i once held so strongly onto and in my madness have quite often forgotten. it is a light that makes me realize and has always made me realize that i am in control of my own destiny, and that the path i choose is only by my own decisions and the wrongs that i make are only mine to own up to, (at this point...is it even necessary to once again point out that i'm a masochist?). i've often both consciously and sub-consciously allowed the bad to outweigh the good and i've frequently decided to wallow in my own self-pity while bringing those around me perhaps not just down but a victim of my wrath because i hate that feeling of losing control.
however, in rethinking this sad state of mind i have somehow found myself in (once again!), that i can now say, i do believe that i have gotten over myself, and i realize that my loss of self-control was through my own bad choices, and that everything that has transpired both good and bad is only a result of my own attitude - a behavior that is sometimes good, bad and ugly...mostly really effin' ugly (if you wanna know the truth).
but that doesn't mean i'm still not pissed off or that i don't hate mostly everyone because i still do. it also doesn't mean that i'm entirely at fault for everything bad that happens in my life...it simply means that i haven't always reacted in a productive and beneficial manner to the shitty nuances that life likes to poop on my head. at this point in my life i'd like to think that i'm mature enough to take responsibility for my own actions and that i'm accountable for myself, and i believe that's what i'm doing my damndest to accomplish. (is damndest a word? i don't have patience for looking that shit up right now and at two-thirty in the morning my grammar and spelling inevitably sucks). HOWEVER, let's face it...i don't always respond, react or behave appropriately or accordingly, and it can be quite detrimental but for fuck sake...i feel as if i'm human and punishing people for wronging me is not some grossly abnormal human reaction.
maybe i'm wrong. and so what if i am? cause i mostly hate everyone so i'm sure i don't give a flying eff-u-c-fucking-k if someone doesn't agree with me. what i do care about is pushing the good people in my life away because i'm a selfish and unforgiving human being, and keeping the bad people around because i'm a masochist. classic "tina" move. i want to hang on to those individuals who i will never really be able to count on while alienating those who have always been there for me. now who's an asshole?
I Hate Everyone
this posting is really an extension of my last post and how much i hate everyone. although, i don't really hate everyone because clearly there are some exceptions (probably numerous exceptions but i don't guarantee the actual number of exceptions that exist because depending on the day of the week, it's likely to change).
i feel that my overwhelming need to bitch about life publicly on this blog is my ability to give back to the world. and, while i fully understand that what i have to say here certainly doesn't always have positive impacts on those who read my blog, my hope is only that it has an impact. it is as i said in the beginning, maybe this blog will just give others the opportunity to say what it is they want and need to say. or maybe it'll satisfy the curiosity of those people in my life that have become strangers. perhaps it'll make someone laugh, and maybe...just MAYBE it may allow someone to relate to another human being while not feeling as if they're standing alone in the world or being judged.
i'm not here to stand on a soapbox and profess to anyone and everyone that i want to change the world or make a difference in the lives of people i don't care about, don't know, have not met or will never know. i'm not that good of a person, and most days i do hate everyone...well...everyone except those i don't hate and i'm positive those people know who they are.
i feel that my overwhelming need to bitch about life publicly on this blog is my ability to give back to the world. and, while i fully understand that what i have to say here certainly doesn't always have positive impacts on those who read my blog, my hope is only that it has an impact. it is as i said in the beginning, maybe this blog will just give others the opportunity to say what it is they want and need to say. or maybe it'll satisfy the curiosity of those people in my life that have become strangers. perhaps it'll make someone laugh, and maybe...just MAYBE it may allow someone to relate to another human being while not feeling as if they're standing alone in the world or being judged.
i'm not here to stand on a soapbox and profess to anyone and everyone that i want to change the world or make a difference in the lives of people i don't care about, don't know, have not met or will never know. i'm not that good of a person, and most days i do hate everyone...well...everyone except those i don't hate and i'm positive those people know who they are.
23 August 2010
A Woman's Intuition
they say to trust your intuition. who "they" are exactly...? i have no idea. and for much of my existence, i've also heard that a woman's intuition is not something to be reckoned with. nor is one pissed off fucking bitch. i'm that pissed off bitch.
you know that overwhelmingly omnipresent sense that in spite of however much denial you find yourself in, that gnawing feeling in the back of your mind that just won't stop haunting you? yeah. that's intuition. and when you find yourself being consumed by it regardless of your attempts to stunt those feelings and/or thoughts that won't simply leave you alone...that's just asinine. and yes. it may also very well make you a masochist.
welcome to my world!
there are reasons why the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at all the right times. and there are reasons why that voice in the back of your mind won't shut the fuck up. so listen to that voice or be a masochist like me.
here's what i've learned as i've aged...and that is that the more people i meet and the more people i get to know, the more i hate everyone.
you know that overwhelmingly omnipresent sense that in spite of however much denial you find yourself in, that gnawing feeling in the back of your mind that just won't stop haunting you? yeah. that's intuition. and when you find yourself being consumed by it regardless of your attempts to stunt those feelings and/or thoughts that won't simply leave you alone...that's just asinine. and yes. it may also very well make you a masochist.
welcome to my world!
there are reasons why the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at all the right times. and there are reasons why that voice in the back of your mind won't shut the fuck up. so listen to that voice or be a masochist like me.
here's what i've learned as i've aged...and that is that the more people i meet and the more people i get to know, the more i hate everyone.
11 August 2010
I Just Can't Stop Hitting a Hammer Against My Head
do you all remember the infamous quote, spoken by meredith grey (ellen pompeo), in grey's anatomy..."why can't we just stop hitting a hammer against our heads? because it feels so good when it stops!"
duh!! i love it! i fucking love it. BECAUSE IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD WHEN IT STOPS! that's what i'm talking about! it seriously blows my hair back when you quite unexpectedly have a revelation about life! it's not that i didn't already know i'm a masochist...i just didn't know how to appropriately and perfectly put it into words without people looking at me like i'm crazy. and you know what? when you can properly express your mania in terms that other people relate to than who's to say that anyone is truly crazy? well at least those of us who are normal crazy. know what i'm sayin'?
anyway. i was just sitting here tonight in an attempt to be comtemplative (while watching the boob), and i found myself saying over and over again, wtf? wtf? wtf? why?! why?! why?! idiot! idiot! idiot! and then i stopped myself with my outstanding revelation quote of life and said aloud and to myself (yes. i talk to myself...i already told you i was crazy), "gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore! it feels so fucking good when it stops!" but only if i let it. masochist. told ya.
i just can't help myself! i just can't stop myself! i tell myself that i know better and that i should quit hitting myself in the head with a hammer! and i still don't! WTF. am i that fucking crazy that the angel stooped on the left side of my shoulder is saying (while wagging their angelic finger at me), you know better young lady! while the devil on the right side of my shoulder is giving me the evil eye while smiling as devilish as the little she-satan she is and not saying anything because that she-effin-bastard already knows what i'm thinking, you know what you want!
and i DO know what i want! except that i don't! masochist. because in spite of the fact that when you know you shouldn't and will ALWAYS regret it, you STILL DO!!! gawd i love my life! i'm such an idiot. damn. it just hurts so good when you stop. i guess even at this cynical stage in my life i still try to remain optimistic and while i do fully realize my decisions in life may leave me balling on my cold-ass bathroom floor, at least i can still say that i took a risk and that the only thing to regret is that i'll always be left wondering, if ONLY...
in the meantime (of attempting to figure out life plan 7,003), i'll remain positively skeptimistic!
on a side note...i have about a zillion things to bitch about but have been distracted lately and haven't had as much time to dedicate to this blog as i would like. so this promise i can make...there is definitely more to come!
keep reading cause i know where you all live!
duh!! i love it! i fucking love it. BECAUSE IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD WHEN IT STOPS! that's what i'm talking about! it seriously blows my hair back when you quite unexpectedly have a revelation about life! it's not that i didn't already know i'm a masochist...i just didn't know how to appropriately and perfectly put it into words without people looking at me like i'm crazy. and you know what? when you can properly express your mania in terms that other people relate to than who's to say that anyone is truly crazy? well at least those of us who are normal crazy. know what i'm sayin'?
anyway. i was just sitting here tonight in an attempt to be comtemplative (while watching the boob), and i found myself saying over and over again, wtf? wtf? wtf? why?! why?! why?! idiot! idiot! idiot! and then i stopped myself with my outstanding revelation quote of life and said aloud and to myself (yes. i talk to myself...i already told you i was crazy), "gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore! it feels so fucking good when it stops!" but only if i let it. masochist. told ya.
i just can't help myself! i just can't stop myself! i tell myself that i know better and that i should quit hitting myself in the head with a hammer! and i still don't! WTF. am i that fucking crazy that the angel stooped on the left side of my shoulder is saying (while wagging their angelic finger at me), you know better young lady! while the devil on the right side of my shoulder is giving me the evil eye while smiling as devilish as the little she-satan she is and not saying anything because that she-effin-bastard already knows what i'm thinking, you know what you want!
and i DO know what i want! except that i don't! masochist. because in spite of the fact that when you know you shouldn't and will ALWAYS regret it, you STILL DO!!! gawd i love my life! i'm such an idiot. damn. it just hurts so good when you stop. i guess even at this cynical stage in my life i still try to remain optimistic and while i do fully realize my decisions in life may leave me balling on my cold-ass bathroom floor, at least i can still say that i took a risk and that the only thing to regret is that i'll always be left wondering, if ONLY...
in the meantime (of attempting to figure out life plan 7,003), i'll remain positively skeptimistic!
on a side note...i have about a zillion things to bitch about but have been distracted lately and haven't had as much time to dedicate to this blog as i would like. so this promise i can make...there is definitely more to come!
keep reading cause i know where you all live!
08 August 2010
An Encounter With the Columbia Police Department
i have to premise this by saying that i started writing this the thursday following what had initially transpired...
if there was ever a reason for me to bitch it would’ve been last night after having had my day of deliverance with the columbia police department. so this particular night i was highly irritated and determined to conduct the necessary research to find the answers i was looking for. after numerous conversations with a handful of people i still hadn’t come to any meaningful or definitive conclusions. subsequently, i decided to quit beating around the bush and looking for answers in places that i had initially suspected i would never find, and was headed straight to the source when the red and blue lights started flashing in my rearview mirror. fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit. apparently i was swerving…NO FUCKING SHIT. i was attempting to multitask...something i have previously admitted at never having had success with when it comes to the dimwitted chores of life. accordingly, beer coupled with driving and texting for an individual who lacks the necessary skills to be a successful multitasker, in almost all circumstances results in failure. i mean for shit sake…i can’t even walk up my stairs stone cold sober without tripping all over myself.
oh and p.s. yes, i do understand that driving while having been drinking is never a good idea either.
however, i have to say that i wasn’t even near drunk. and, yes, plenty of people have seen me at my absolute worst. in fact, plenty of people have seen me before my absolute worst has transpired and while it’s not always a pretty sight (well...indeed more often than not it's hell-a ugly), i am in fact capable of standing up straight and walking in a straight line. so after having explained to the officer that i was attempting to text and drive at the same time…which clearly was not safe, he asked me for my information. as i handed over the appropriate documents to the officer while simultaneously trying NOT to shit my pants, i began to think that this was certainly the end of the line for me – that my luck had finally run out and gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore…i had barely crossed the line of not buzzed and just being slightly so. i was going to get my ass hauled off to jail over seven beers in three or four hours…? fuck that shit. so when the officer finally returned to my car and asked me to get out of my car, i was not only thinking, i’m seriously a fucking block from my destination (i guess that fact is true), but that my luck while clearly having run out did not mean that i was NOT capable of passing a field sobriety test.
the one thing i can say for sure is, i know myself and i know my limitations...i know when i’m shit-faced drunk and should call a cab (not that i always do. hey. i’m just being honest…i shouldn’t be admonished for being truthful), but i’m also pretty aware of when i can stand up straight and put on my sober face and follow instructions versus refusing any test and losing my license. and so, i did what i had to…i pulled out my .45 and capped that cop in the knee and sped off. just kidding! seriously. i’m kidding…i’m not completely delusional. i did what the officer asked me, test after test after test. there was the whole wagging of his finger in my face and follow it in this direction and that direction. so after having successfully passed that test, although, he clearly wasn’t convinced because (he had not only called for back up by that time), but also decided i needed to walk toe-to-heel in a straight line while counting aloud.
can i just say that these field sobriety tests are a bunch of fucking bullshit? i mean…what if you just had a bad knee or one leg was shorter than the other? my point is…is that justification for wasting my tax dollars? granted i don’t have a bad knee and both of my legs are the same length…but asking a person to walk in a straight line with their arms at their sides who is nervous as fuck and trying not to shit their pants and shaking uncontrollably (and who by the way can’t walk straight while sober), just doesn’t seem exactly fair.
oh well for life being unfair. oh well for having had too much to drink while driving and texting…fuck me. i deserve this fate. and, believe me i’m used to having my head shit on by life so i say, bring it on you little piglet! good thing you called for back-up cause clearly you should be threatened by all of my five foot three stature you pussy! and then i did the unbelievable (even by my own standards), and passed the pussy cop’s field sobriety test. but alas, he still wasn’t convinced. gotdamnit…doesn’t that just fucking figure? (oh and i should also mention that this was one of those rare times in which i wasn’t wearing heels – PRAISE JESUS! nonetheless, i elected to take off my flip-flops because not having the ability to walk straight in every other given sober circumstance in my life, i did not want to give the officer or his friendly back-up pig even the most insignificant reason to put me in shackles and haul me off to the slammer).
consequentially, i was then required to stand on one leg (of my choosing…well…isn’t that just nice), while holding my other foot in front of me with my toes pointed and counting in the one-one-thousand fashion until i was told to stop. seriously? i mean fucking seriously?! who in their half-witted mind seriously came up with these sobriety tests? fine. i’ll stand on one foot and count like a mindless and dumbass freak. i can’t WAIT to hear what the next test is. geezusjiminycricket. guess what?! i win. they lose. the pig and his sidekick lose! good thing for my runner’s legs! so after suffering through some asinine lecture about how many drinks per hour that a person of my size should be allowed (when i should be thanking my lucky stars), i'm annoyed and bothered by this whole inconvenience and can only think about punching one particular person in the face and where my next beer will be coming from.
so after being sent on my way with the instructions of not driving again that night at the risk of being arrested, i drove my one block to my destination and parked my car for the evening as instructed by mr. high & mighty - one of columbia's finest officers. yeah. yeah. yeah. bite me. i'm not trying to brag about being an alcoholic (because i'm not), and this certainly is not a cry for help...it's me simply trying to make a point that seven beers in three or four hours (i don't care how tall i am or how much i weigh), is not a big deal for myself. so i'm a lush. and p.s. you're only an alcoholic if you go to AA.
yeah! put that in your pipe and smoke it!
if there was ever a reason for me to bitch it would’ve been last night after having had my day of deliverance with the columbia police department. so this particular night i was highly irritated and determined to conduct the necessary research to find the answers i was looking for. after numerous conversations with a handful of people i still hadn’t come to any meaningful or definitive conclusions. subsequently, i decided to quit beating around the bush and looking for answers in places that i had initially suspected i would never find, and was headed straight to the source when the red and blue lights started flashing in my rearview mirror. fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit. apparently i was swerving…NO FUCKING SHIT. i was attempting to multitask...something i have previously admitted at never having had success with when it comes to the dimwitted chores of life. accordingly, beer coupled with driving and texting for an individual who lacks the necessary skills to be a successful multitasker, in almost all circumstances results in failure. i mean for shit sake…i can’t even walk up my stairs stone cold sober without tripping all over myself.
oh and p.s. yes, i do understand that driving while having been drinking is never a good idea either.
however, i have to say that i wasn’t even near drunk. and, yes, plenty of people have seen me at my absolute worst. in fact, plenty of people have seen me before my absolute worst has transpired and while it’s not always a pretty sight (well...indeed more often than not it's hell-a ugly), i am in fact capable of standing up straight and walking in a straight line. so after having explained to the officer that i was attempting to text and drive at the same time…which clearly was not safe, he asked me for my information. as i handed over the appropriate documents to the officer while simultaneously trying NOT to shit my pants, i began to think that this was certainly the end of the line for me – that my luck had finally run out and gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore…i had barely crossed the line of not buzzed and just being slightly so. i was going to get my ass hauled off to jail over seven beers in three or four hours…? fuck that shit. so when the officer finally returned to my car and asked me to get out of my car, i was not only thinking, i’m seriously a fucking block from my destination (i guess that fact is true), but that my luck while clearly having run out did not mean that i was NOT capable of passing a field sobriety test.
the one thing i can say for sure is, i know myself and i know my limitations...i know when i’m shit-faced drunk and should call a cab (not that i always do. hey. i’m just being honest…i shouldn’t be admonished for being truthful), but i’m also pretty aware of when i can stand up straight and put on my sober face and follow instructions versus refusing any test and losing my license. and so, i did what i had to…i pulled out my .45 and capped that cop in the knee and sped off. just kidding! seriously. i’m kidding…i’m not completely delusional. i did what the officer asked me, test after test after test. there was the whole wagging of his finger in my face and follow it in this direction and that direction. so after having successfully passed that test, although, he clearly wasn’t convinced because (he had not only called for back up by that time), but also decided i needed to walk toe-to-heel in a straight line while counting aloud.
can i just say that these field sobriety tests are a bunch of fucking bullshit? i mean…what if you just had a bad knee or one leg was shorter than the other? my point is…is that justification for wasting my tax dollars? granted i don’t have a bad knee and both of my legs are the same length…but asking a person to walk in a straight line with their arms at their sides who is nervous as fuck and trying not to shit their pants and shaking uncontrollably (and who by the way can’t walk straight while sober), just doesn’t seem exactly fair.
oh well for life being unfair. oh well for having had too much to drink while driving and texting…fuck me. i deserve this fate. and, believe me i’m used to having my head shit on by life so i say, bring it on you little piglet! good thing you called for back-up cause clearly you should be threatened by all of my five foot three stature you pussy! and then i did the unbelievable (even by my own standards), and passed the pussy cop’s field sobriety test. but alas, he still wasn’t convinced. gotdamnit…doesn’t that just fucking figure? (oh and i should also mention that this was one of those rare times in which i wasn’t wearing heels – PRAISE JESUS! nonetheless, i elected to take off my flip-flops because not having the ability to walk straight in every other given sober circumstance in my life, i did not want to give the officer or his friendly back-up pig even the most insignificant reason to put me in shackles and haul me off to the slammer).
consequentially, i was then required to stand on one leg (of my choosing…well…isn’t that just nice), while holding my other foot in front of me with my toes pointed and counting in the one-one-thousand fashion until i was told to stop. seriously? i mean fucking seriously?! who in their half-witted mind seriously came up with these sobriety tests? fine. i’ll stand on one foot and count like a mindless and dumbass freak. i can’t WAIT to hear what the next test is. geezusjiminycricket. guess what?! i win. they lose. the pig and his sidekick lose! good thing for my runner’s legs! so after suffering through some asinine lecture about how many drinks per hour that a person of my size should be allowed (when i should be thanking my lucky stars), i'm annoyed and bothered by this whole inconvenience and can only think about punching one particular person in the face and where my next beer will be coming from.
so after being sent on my way with the instructions of not driving again that night at the risk of being arrested, i drove my one block to my destination and parked my car for the evening as instructed by mr. high & mighty - one of columbia's finest officers. yeah. yeah. yeah. bite me. i'm not trying to brag about being an alcoholic (because i'm not), and this certainly is not a cry for help...it's me simply trying to make a point that seven beers in three or four hours (i don't care how tall i am or how much i weigh), is not a big deal for myself. so i'm a lush. and p.s. you're only an alcoholic if you go to AA.
yeah! put that in your pipe and smoke it!
04 August 2010
Good Thing I'm Not A Clutz
i don't know why i insist on being the biggest clutz on the face of the planet! for some reason i was walking up my front steps and i guess i just subconsciously felt the need to trip and fall while my hands were full so i wasn't even able to break my landing or prevent spilling a full glass of chai all over my pink dvf bag. wtf. i guess this is why my stupid ass should not be allowed to have nice things. good thing i wasn't completely humiliated! i suppose the humiliation factor tends to dissipate after about the fifth millionth time you've fallen on your face. what? another bruise in some inconspicuous place? you DON'T say! geezus.
yes. i've taken many plunges in my lifetime...quite possibly triple the amount of times than the average normal human being who pays attention and cares not to bear the horrified stares of onlookers. i think the ultimate humiliation was at kauffman field while walking down the stairs with two full glasses of beer (it was the seventh inning...AND i was very thirsty). and...well you know it makes total sense to wear high heels to a baseball game! DUH. my stupid spastic ass tripped and fell forward and somehow...simultaneously all i could think about was NOT spilling my beer. i mean...forget the fact that the incident left me with holes in my jeans and blood pouring out of my knees. the usher came over quickly to assist me and all i could think about was, you could've helped me by breaking my fall! so all i said was, these stairs are very dangerous! and then there was the group of young men who at first looked at me like, wtf, and then applauded upon my announcement that i hadn't spilled my beer! life has a way of playing cruel tricks on you but then again, seeing as how i still had beer to consume for the rest of the game, life also has a way of making it up to you.
what's that you ask about my last new year's eve in denver? oh yeah. thanks for nothing jason. i proceeded to end the night getting annihilated and then wandering off from my friends. i think there was an argument involved at some point and then they just let me wander off. lawd only knows how belligerent i can be. anyway. i ended up calling an old ex to assist me in my endeavor home and he escorted me back to his car. unfortunately, he wasn't in the mood to be gentlemanly because he let me walk to the passenger side of the car (without his assistance), with ice covering the parking lot. did i mention i was also wearing heels and a dress? hey. i'm short. i wear heels as much as possible. and let's face it...i wasn't blessed in the height department or the boob department. so jason (the ex) decides to proceed to get in the driver's seat and let me slowly slide around to the passenger side. he was already buckling his seatbelt as i attempted to trek (i do believe there was a lot more flailing than trekking), around his car with his trunk as my stabilizer when WHOOPSIE! there i was...flat on my back with the world watching me flash them my kooch. at least jason was kind enough to get out of his car immediately to help peel my drunk ass of the ice, (of course, all the while laughing his ass off). later he told me that he was watching me in his rearview mirror, looked down to buckle his seatbelt, heard a thunk and then looked back up and i wasn't there. WTF. DOUBLE WTF.
yeah. yeah. yeah. laugh at my expense. that's fine. perhaps the cruelest thing that life will ever deal me is the fact that i'm a stupid idiot who can't walk straight even while not having consumed any alcohol. or perhaps my fate in life and the cruelty of it all is the fact that i'm short and that i have no boobs to really speak of. whatever it is...i'll continue marching forward when i'm not tripping over myself with my head held high, and apparently, with holes in my jeans, bloody knees, and inexplicable bruises.
and p.s. those guys who watched me save my beer at kauffman? well after the game as we were tailgating in the parking lot, and i was making my way to a port-a-potty...they saw me and gave me all kinds of free beer. and then asked if i would take a picture with them because that was some of the "coolest shit" they had ever seen.
and no. i'm not a lush.
yes. i've taken many plunges in my lifetime...quite possibly triple the amount of times than the average normal human being who pays attention and cares not to bear the horrified stares of onlookers. i think the ultimate humiliation was at kauffman field while walking down the stairs with two full glasses of beer (it was the seventh inning...AND i was very thirsty). and...well you know it makes total sense to wear high heels to a baseball game! DUH. my stupid spastic ass tripped and fell forward and somehow...simultaneously all i could think about was NOT spilling my beer. i mean...forget the fact that the incident left me with holes in my jeans and blood pouring out of my knees. the usher came over quickly to assist me and all i could think about was, you could've helped me by breaking my fall! so all i said was, these stairs are very dangerous! and then there was the group of young men who at first looked at me like, wtf, and then applauded upon my announcement that i hadn't spilled my beer! life has a way of playing cruel tricks on you but then again, seeing as how i still had beer to consume for the rest of the game, life also has a way of making it up to you.
what's that you ask about my last new year's eve in denver? oh yeah. thanks for nothing jason. i proceeded to end the night getting annihilated and then wandering off from my friends. i think there was an argument involved at some point and then they just let me wander off. lawd only knows how belligerent i can be. anyway. i ended up calling an old ex to assist me in my endeavor home and he escorted me back to his car. unfortunately, he wasn't in the mood to be gentlemanly because he let me walk to the passenger side of the car (without his assistance), with ice covering the parking lot. did i mention i was also wearing heels and a dress? hey. i'm short. i wear heels as much as possible. and let's face it...i wasn't blessed in the height department or the boob department. so jason (the ex) decides to proceed to get in the driver's seat and let me slowly slide around to the passenger side. he was already buckling his seatbelt as i attempted to trek (i do believe there was a lot more flailing than trekking), around his car with his trunk as my stabilizer when WHOOPSIE! there i was...flat on my back with the world watching me flash them my kooch. at least jason was kind enough to get out of his car immediately to help peel my drunk ass of the ice, (of course, all the while laughing his ass off). later he told me that he was watching me in his rearview mirror, looked down to buckle his seatbelt, heard a thunk and then looked back up and i wasn't there. WTF. DOUBLE WTF.
yeah. yeah. yeah. laugh at my expense. that's fine. perhaps the cruelest thing that life will ever deal me is the fact that i'm a stupid idiot who can't walk straight even while not having consumed any alcohol. or perhaps my fate in life and the cruelty of it all is the fact that i'm short and that i have no boobs to really speak of. whatever it is...i'll continue marching forward when i'm not tripping over myself with my head held high, and apparently, with holes in my jeans, bloody knees, and inexplicable bruises.
and p.s. those guys who watched me save my beer at kauffman? well after the game as we were tailgating in the parking lot, and i was making my way to a port-a-potty...they saw me and gave me all kinds of free beer. and then asked if i would take a picture with them because that was some of the "coolest shit" they had ever seen.
and no. i'm not a lush.
02 August 2010
What Do I Care to Bitch About Today?
well mostly that it's so disgustingly humid out that you can't even go outside without sweating your ballsack off. or how about the fact that i'm off of work already and haven't even had me my first happy drink of the cocktail hour or in my case, hours.
what i should do is take a nap. but instead i have to shit, shower and shave in an attempt to look cute (lawd knows in this humidity, the second that i walk outside my hair will fall flat, my makeup will begin to slowly melt off my face, and i'll be sweating profusely. now THAT'S attractive), all of this unnecessary primping just to go have a "talk" with someone that i don't know if i want to punch in the throat or hug assuredly. i'm guessing that after i tell him everything that i hate about him, he'll likely want to punch me in the throat because i simply can't erase the smug look off my face. oh and p.s. i'm almost positive that the "smarty-pants" look that i've come to master has not changed in the last three days. yes. i've walked around the last three days one smug, smart-ass, pissed-off human being who has yet to find her reckoning!
sometimes...i just want to scream. maybe i should take up taekwondo again so i can unleash my anger on some unexpecting twelve year old who claims they are deserving of their black belt status. because i'd really love for someone to just piss me the fuck off right now so i can liberate the fury that has been building inside of me. ohgawd...it's gonna get ugly. maybe i should refrain from drinking tonight. YEAH RIGHT.
i mean is it so wrong to punish someone for their actions? what i can't seem to decide is what bad behaviors determine what kind of consequences? i mean...it's not like i can just tell a grown ass man to bring me the belt so i can whoop him into unconsciousness. and it's not like i can tell him to sit in the corner or that he's grounded. and clearly i can't kill the self-righteous, egotistical sonuvabitch without ultimately going to prison. so herein lies my problem. what would be a deserving punishment that would appropriately fit the "crime"?
haha. i'm thinking, having to spend time with me while i'm pissed off is probably punishment enough. but NO. that does not make me feel better. the groveling does not make me feel better. the ass-kissing does not make me feel better. the flowers do not make me feel better, (i don't even like gotdamn flowers unless they're tulips so if a person should wanna piss me off they should stick to springtime to do it). however, me moping around like a wounded child pouting and mostly ignoring him while simultaneously giving him the look of death, does make me feel a little better. a new prada handbag or something pretty from tiffany will not make me feel better but i'll still accept his apology in the form of gifts. p.s. if he really wants to make it up to me...he should march himself on down to buchroeder's and buy me the judith leiber ring i've been eyeing for months now (in addition, to the hot ass guy selling it). hell. maybe he should just bring me the hot ass guy and forget the ring! and while he's at it, not to forget to let the door hit him on his ass on his way out!
my point is...all these silly antics that men have up their sleeves that have somehow worked for them in the past (likely cause they've dated idiots), will not work on me. i can't be completely certain what would make me feel better about the situation but i'm thinking vodka might be a good starting point. actually i'm thinking what would make me feel a shit-ton better is him standing there like an open target so i can give him a good and swift kick below the belt. yeah. somehow i don't think he'll be in agreement with that suggestion. damnit.
oh...i digress. time for that primping. and i do believe i heard the vodka screaming from my freezer, "drink me! drink me! drink me!"
what i should do is take a nap. but instead i have to shit, shower and shave in an attempt to look cute (lawd knows in this humidity, the second that i walk outside my hair will fall flat, my makeup will begin to slowly melt off my face, and i'll be sweating profusely. now THAT'S attractive), all of this unnecessary primping just to go have a "talk" with someone that i don't know if i want to punch in the throat or hug assuredly. i'm guessing that after i tell him everything that i hate about him, he'll likely want to punch me in the throat because i simply can't erase the smug look off my face. oh and p.s. i'm almost positive that the "smarty-pants" look that i've come to master has not changed in the last three days. yes. i've walked around the last three days one smug, smart-ass, pissed-off human being who has yet to find her reckoning!
sometimes...i just want to scream. maybe i should take up taekwondo again so i can unleash my anger on some unexpecting twelve year old who claims they are deserving of their black belt status. because i'd really love for someone to just piss me the fuck off right now so i can liberate the fury that has been building inside of me. ohgawd...it's gonna get ugly. maybe i should refrain from drinking tonight. YEAH RIGHT.
i mean is it so wrong to punish someone for their actions? what i can't seem to decide is what bad behaviors determine what kind of consequences? i mean...it's not like i can just tell a grown ass man to bring me the belt so i can whoop him into unconsciousness. and it's not like i can tell him to sit in the corner or that he's grounded. and clearly i can't kill the self-righteous, egotistical sonuvabitch without ultimately going to prison. so herein lies my problem. what would be a deserving punishment that would appropriately fit the "crime"?
haha. i'm thinking, having to spend time with me while i'm pissed off is probably punishment enough. but NO. that does not make me feel better. the groveling does not make me feel better. the ass-kissing does not make me feel better. the flowers do not make me feel better, (i don't even like gotdamn flowers unless they're tulips so if a person should wanna piss me off they should stick to springtime to do it). however, me moping around like a wounded child pouting and mostly ignoring him while simultaneously giving him the look of death, does make me feel a little better. a new prada handbag or something pretty from tiffany will not make me feel better but i'll still accept his apology in the form of gifts. p.s. if he really wants to make it up to me...he should march himself on down to buchroeder's and buy me the judith leiber ring i've been eyeing for months now (in addition, to the hot ass guy selling it). hell. maybe he should just bring me the hot ass guy and forget the ring! and while he's at it, not to forget to let the door hit him on his ass on his way out!
my point is...all these silly antics that men have up their sleeves that have somehow worked for them in the past (likely cause they've dated idiots), will not work on me. i can't be completely certain what would make me feel better about the situation but i'm thinking vodka might be a good starting point. actually i'm thinking what would make me feel a shit-ton better is him standing there like an open target so i can give him a good and swift kick below the belt. yeah. somehow i don't think he'll be in agreement with that suggestion. damnit.
oh...i digress. time for that primping. and i do believe i heard the vodka screaming from my freezer, "drink me! drink me! drink me!"
It's A Love-Hate Relationship
apparently i have a lot to bitch about today...
so i realize that this discussion has already been had since we are inundated by technology with every step we take in life, and to the extent in which i do believe it has become somewhat detrimental to mankind. not that i don't take full advantage of technology (hence, this blog), and not that i don't like it a helluva lot most of the time. however, we cannot ignore the fact that our access to the internet, including facebook and myspace, and our ability to text people at whim has resulted in people finding old loves, reconnecting with past friends, learning how to make bombs, and flirting inappropriately.
don't tell me that you haven't found yourself in one of those scenarios. and don't tell me that the creation of facebook, myspace and text messages have not resulted in affairs (on multiple occasions), ugly divorces, large attorney's fees and even bigger alimony payments. in addition to the destruction of relationships - even those of the casual kind in which you're stuck in the stage of not quite being able to determine if the person you are with is "long-term, bigger-picture" material or if you really just think he/she is hot. the only positive aspect of the latter is that technology's influence on the destruction of those casual relationships means you didn't waste too much time with the wrong person. otherwise you're pretty much screwed. or if you're the victim...then you're actually not screwed - literally, and then it really sucks to be you. thank gawd for all those "meat-market" bars that exist!
my question is...has the invention of all these technologies and the ease of ability to access technology contributed to the demise of what-would-otherwise be successful relationships or marriages? because i think it has. i know it has. i am a living and walking example of this relatively novel phenomenon. and guess what?! i was the bad guy. girl. woman. anyway. my inappropriate behaviors involving the "emailing and texting" kind of behaviors inevitably led to the destruction of a relationship with a man i thought i was actually going to marry. SICK - I KNOW! (i am literally trying not to vomit in my mouth right now). oh and p.s. just to clarify, my sudden onset of nausea is related to the marriage thing, not the bad behavior thing. not that just because it doesn't make me sick doesn't mean it wasn't and or isn't still henious. because it is.
where was i going with all of this? oh right. (you'll have to forgive me if you read my posts as i know i tend to jump all over the place but the friendship between ADD, booze and late-late night is not so friendly afterall). anyway. i honestly believe that so many successful and would-be successful relationships have failed because of technology! and this much i know is true...if it weren't for all this so-called innovative technology i would still be with my ex-boyfriend. on the other hand, without this damn technology i would have never met him in the first place or my partner in crime. and then i wouldn't be telling this story. and don't think i haven't been on the other side of the fence (and yes, it is a lot less greener), and been the "curiosity killed the cat" moronic figure because i have.
so therefore, here ends the story of how i got to be where i am now and bitching about technology and having the sudden urge to go firebomb a shit ton of cell phone towers. for as great as technology is, i fucking hate it. it's a love-hate relationship, and lately (clearly), it has been a lot more hating than loving. so much in fact, that if this computer had balls i'd kick it in the crotch. but alas, it does not and so i'll have to settle for throwing it from the window but not before i back over my cell phone accidentally ten times. i personally would like to know how many marriages have ended because of the internet? because i'm guessing it's a shit-ton (that's a real mathematical term...teehee!), and i'm also guessing that a shit-ton of other relationships of the casual kind have also ceased to exist because of this technology that i would so love to hate more than i already do.
why do people do it? does a person's curiosity about an old flame or the excitement of having some spice in your life, really lead to people engaging in actions, ranging anywhere from innocent hello's to afternoon romps in skanky motels? i mean really? REALLY. really?! apparently it does. and probably more often than anyone of us really care to dwell on for too long. what makes the whole initial engagement of the bad behavior seemingly worse, is the fact that even though we know, we KNOW that what we are doing is wrong and that we will inevitably be caught, and yet, we still consciously choose to participate anyway. are we totally sick in the head?
i am. but i'm also a self-proclaimed masochist so it's to be expected.
but fuck. don't tell me that you love me and then cross a very fine line of flirtatious behavior. because how will i ever trust you again? how will i trust that when you say you love me that you really do? how will i not be suspicious? how? how? how? because i know myself and i scare myself and i also know that i was given a second chance when i should not have been, and therefore, what i know about myself is what i know about you. that's the only problem with being with someone who has the exact same personality as you do.
shit. shitshit. shitdoubleshitshitfuck. ahhh...life. shit.
so i realize that this discussion has already been had since we are inundated by technology with every step we take in life, and to the extent in which i do believe it has become somewhat detrimental to mankind. not that i don't take full advantage of technology (hence, this blog), and not that i don't like it a helluva lot most of the time. however, we cannot ignore the fact that our access to the internet, including facebook and myspace, and our ability to text people at whim has resulted in people finding old loves, reconnecting with past friends, learning how to make bombs, and flirting inappropriately.
don't tell me that you haven't found yourself in one of those scenarios. and don't tell me that the creation of facebook, myspace and text messages have not resulted in affairs (on multiple occasions), ugly divorces, large attorney's fees and even bigger alimony payments. in addition to the destruction of relationships - even those of the casual kind in which you're stuck in the stage of not quite being able to determine if the person you are with is "long-term, bigger-picture" material or if you really just think he/she is hot. the only positive aspect of the latter is that technology's influence on the destruction of those casual relationships means you didn't waste too much time with the wrong person. otherwise you're pretty much screwed. or if you're the victim...then you're actually not screwed - literally, and then it really sucks to be you. thank gawd for all those "meat-market" bars that exist!
my question is...has the invention of all these technologies and the ease of ability to access technology contributed to the demise of what-would-otherwise be successful relationships or marriages? because i think it has. i know it has. i am a living and walking example of this relatively novel phenomenon. and guess what?! i was the bad guy. girl. woman. anyway. my inappropriate behaviors involving the "emailing and texting" kind of behaviors inevitably led to the destruction of a relationship with a man i thought i was actually going to marry. SICK - I KNOW! (i am literally trying not to vomit in my mouth right now). oh and p.s. just to clarify, my sudden onset of nausea is related to the marriage thing, not the bad behavior thing. not that just because it doesn't make me sick doesn't mean it wasn't and or isn't still henious. because it is.
where was i going with all of this? oh right. (you'll have to forgive me if you read my posts as i know i tend to jump all over the place but the friendship between ADD, booze and late-late night is not so friendly afterall). anyway. i honestly believe that so many successful and would-be successful relationships have failed because of technology! and this much i know is true...if it weren't for all this so-called innovative technology i would still be with my ex-boyfriend. on the other hand, without this damn technology i would have never met him in the first place or my partner in crime. and then i wouldn't be telling this story. and don't think i haven't been on the other side of the fence (and yes, it is a lot less greener), and been the "curiosity killed the cat" moronic figure because i have.
so therefore, here ends the story of how i got to be where i am now and bitching about technology and having the sudden urge to go firebomb a shit ton of cell phone towers. for as great as technology is, i fucking hate it. it's a love-hate relationship, and lately (clearly), it has been a lot more hating than loving. so much in fact, that if this computer had balls i'd kick it in the crotch. but alas, it does not and so i'll have to settle for throwing it from the window but not before i back over my cell phone accidentally ten times. i personally would like to know how many marriages have ended because of the internet? because i'm guessing it's a shit-ton (that's a real mathematical term...teehee!), and i'm also guessing that a shit-ton of other relationships of the casual kind have also ceased to exist because of this technology that i would so love to hate more than i already do.
why do people do it? does a person's curiosity about an old flame or the excitement of having some spice in your life, really lead to people engaging in actions, ranging anywhere from innocent hello's to afternoon romps in skanky motels? i mean really? REALLY. really?! apparently it does. and probably more often than anyone of us really care to dwell on for too long. what makes the whole initial engagement of the bad behavior seemingly worse, is the fact that even though we know, we KNOW that what we are doing is wrong and that we will inevitably be caught, and yet, we still consciously choose to participate anyway. are we totally sick in the head?
i am. but i'm also a self-proclaimed masochist so it's to be expected.
but fuck. don't tell me that you love me and then cross a very fine line of flirtatious behavior. because how will i ever trust you again? how will i trust that when you say you love me that you really do? how will i not be suspicious? how? how? how? because i know myself and i scare myself and i also know that i was given a second chance when i should not have been, and therefore, what i know about myself is what i know about you. that's the only problem with being with someone who has the exact same personality as you do.
shit. shitshit. shitdoubleshitshitfuck. ahhh...life. shit.
01 August 2010
Procrastination and ADD
so i just finished sending out an announcement about my new blog and in the message relayed something about procrastination and ADD. it's funny how one stumbles upon ideas for their blogs/posts. it's like my life sucks so i'll write about it - GREAT idea. wtf.
i'm just here to bitch about being an extraordinarily horrific procrastinator...that coupled with the fact that i'm not only a self-proclaimed ADD individual but have also recently been medically diagnosed as such - does not make for a good combination. and then there is the addict in me that tends to rear its ugly little head too often...but shit! what's not to love about a great addiction like shoes and vodka? did i also mention that i suffer from depression?
yes. walking basket-case coming soon to a theatre near you! ahhh...this is my life...and so it goes.
it could not be a more perfect day to be working on my tan (yes...i am totally vain and don't care about skin cancer), but instead of getting me some pool time in...i'm holed up in the darkness of my apartment (the blinds and curtains are drawn), trying to find my sanity in my unleashing of myself through words. oh. that and i totally got drunk last night and stormed out of the apartment of my "man of the moment" (let's face it...until i have a ring on my finger, every man will just be a man of the moment...lawd only knows i have a big "L" tattooed on my forehead when it comes to relationships). anyway. the pool is at his place and since i pretty much told him to pound sand and die, i don't think showing up with tanning lotion in one hand and a cocktail in the other is a very good idea. know what i'm sayin'?
good thing i'm not a bitch! yeah, yeah, yeah. keep your comments to yourself. honestly though...i'm just at the point in my life (okay...have always been at this point in my life), where i'm just irritated with people and mostly hate everyone. therefore, i'm bitchy. and i probably wouldn't find it necessary to be so bitchy but it's not my fault that people just annoy the fuck outta me sometimes. it's not like i asked the rest of the world around me to wake up and be an agitating prick or an inconvenience to my life. i know that sounds totally selfish and absurd but it's true. so i'm not the most patient of people...nor am i diplomatic - we ALL know that. but i would like to think that i can be somewhat easygoing...key word - SOMEWHAT. it's just a matter of getting older and experiencing life and losing patience at about the same rate i'm losing my sanity AND my hair. (i think i'm going bald). people just annoy me and since i can't drink all day, every day, i think i should at least be able to be bitchy sometimes.
and yes. that's me honking my horn at you for driving slower than a two year-old on a tricycle. and yes. that's me giving you the finger for driving like a dickbag. and yes. that's me sighing audibly behind you and cursing you out under my breath because you've decided you "really do have the exact change" and you don't care if it takes you five minutes to find it...i mean, forget the rest of the world waiting on your "change-counting, slower than a snail, cheap-ass"! i try to be considerate when there's a line the length of a football field behind me (okay...that's a TINY exaggeration), but some people are so oblivious to others that i think THEY'RE the selfish ones.
and that's all i have to say about that!
i'm just here to bitch about being an extraordinarily horrific procrastinator...that coupled with the fact that i'm not only a self-proclaimed ADD individual but have also recently been medically diagnosed as such - does not make for a good combination. and then there is the addict in me that tends to rear its ugly little head too often...but shit! what's not to love about a great addiction like shoes and vodka? did i also mention that i suffer from depression?
yes. walking basket-case coming soon to a theatre near you! ahhh...this is my life...and so it goes.
it could not be a more perfect day to be working on my tan (yes...i am totally vain and don't care about skin cancer), but instead of getting me some pool time in...i'm holed up in the darkness of my apartment (the blinds and curtains are drawn), trying to find my sanity in my unleashing of myself through words. oh. that and i totally got drunk last night and stormed out of the apartment of my "man of the moment" (let's face it...until i have a ring on my finger, every man will just be a man of the moment...lawd only knows i have a big "L" tattooed on my forehead when it comes to relationships). anyway. the pool is at his place and since i pretty much told him to pound sand and die, i don't think showing up with tanning lotion in one hand and a cocktail in the other is a very good idea. know what i'm sayin'?
good thing i'm not a bitch! yeah, yeah, yeah. keep your comments to yourself. honestly though...i'm just at the point in my life (okay...have always been at this point in my life), where i'm just irritated with people and mostly hate everyone. therefore, i'm bitchy. and i probably wouldn't find it necessary to be so bitchy but it's not my fault that people just annoy the fuck outta me sometimes. it's not like i asked the rest of the world around me to wake up and be an agitating prick or an inconvenience to my life. i know that sounds totally selfish and absurd but it's true. so i'm not the most patient of people...nor am i diplomatic - we ALL know that. but i would like to think that i can be somewhat easygoing...key word - SOMEWHAT. it's just a matter of getting older and experiencing life and losing patience at about the same rate i'm losing my sanity AND my hair. (i think i'm going bald). people just annoy me and since i can't drink all day, every day, i think i should at least be able to be bitchy sometimes.
and yes. that's me honking my horn at you for driving slower than a two year-old on a tricycle. and yes. that's me giving you the finger for driving like a dickbag. and yes. that's me sighing audibly behind you and cursing you out under my breath because you've decided you "really do have the exact change" and you don't care if it takes you five minutes to find it...i mean, forget the rest of the world waiting on your "change-counting, slower than a snail, cheap-ass"! i try to be considerate when there's a line the length of a football field behind me (okay...that's a TINY exaggeration), but some people are so oblivious to others that i think THEY'RE the selfish ones.
and that's all i have to say about that!
My First Bitch Post!
so i have to premise this post by saying i started creating this blog about a month ago and the following were some initials thoughts from that time.
you know that feeling...maybe you have no one to talk to in the middle of the night and instead of drunk dialing, drunk texting, or drunk emailing the wrong person...you can just drunk blog to whoever is out there listening. this i will say with certainty...i'm listening...ahh-hem...i mean reading. so perhaps i won't be reading at two in the morning when you come home so shit-faced drunk that you're stumbling up the stairs while trying to unlock your door while simultaneously trying to unzip your pants because you're about to piss yourself from all that beer you consumed (didn't you just go two minutes ago in the alley?). and, in your "obliterated, about to piss yourself state" you're also thinking about how great some pizza would be shoved down your throat. in fact, you're so concentrated on your late night munchies you trip over yourself and fall on your face while waking up your neighbor(s) because you were trying to kick off your pants while walking to the bathroom, (apparently multi-tasking, a.k.a. thinking and kicking off your pants at the same time is not a good idea when you're a lush), only to get there and not be able to decide whether you should piss or ralph your guts out first. whatever it is you decide to do in your drunken state, perhaps it includes drunk blogging before you pass out, wake up the next day with your contacts about ready to pop outta your eyeballs, death breath, drool crusted to your cheek, pizza sauce on your keyboard, and a headache so fierce that even your hair hurts. and p.s. you're thinking, "what day of the week is it?" "am i suppose to be at work?" and "how did i get all those bruises?" and "where are my keys?" shit. oh right! they're still hanging in the lock of the door on the OUTSIDE! CLEARLY a very effective place for them to be!
as i said...no rules, no limits, no judgment! just your honest, upfront and true feelings, thoughts, bitches, etc., that you want the world (or at least my world), to read, share, laugh and maybe cry about. however! crying is only allowed in small doses or when you're drunk and can't help yourself...like me acting like a jackass the other night. see...NO JUDGMENTS FROM ME!
all i'm saying is that this is your "get out of jail free" card blog...let it rip! perhaps you'll get the advice or honesty you're looking for in response to whatever it is you need and want to say. i don't know...i'm just here to bitch.
you know that feeling...maybe you have no one to talk to in the middle of the night and instead of drunk dialing, drunk texting, or drunk emailing the wrong person...you can just drunk blog to whoever is out there listening. this i will say with certainty...i'm listening...ahh-hem...i mean reading. so perhaps i won't be reading at two in the morning when you come home so shit-faced drunk that you're stumbling up the stairs while trying to unlock your door while simultaneously trying to unzip your pants because you're about to piss yourself from all that beer you consumed (didn't you just go two minutes ago in the alley?). and, in your "obliterated, about to piss yourself state" you're also thinking about how great some pizza would be shoved down your throat. in fact, you're so concentrated on your late night munchies you trip over yourself and fall on your face while waking up your neighbor(s) because you were trying to kick off your pants while walking to the bathroom, (apparently multi-tasking, a.k.a. thinking and kicking off your pants at the same time is not a good idea when you're a lush), only to get there and not be able to decide whether you should piss or ralph your guts out first. whatever it is you decide to do in your drunken state, perhaps it includes drunk blogging before you pass out, wake up the next day with your contacts about ready to pop outta your eyeballs, death breath, drool crusted to your cheek, pizza sauce on your keyboard, and a headache so fierce that even your hair hurts. and p.s. you're thinking, "what day of the week is it?" "am i suppose to be at work?" and "how did i get all those bruises?" and "where are my keys?" shit. oh right! they're still hanging in the lock of the door on the OUTSIDE! CLEARLY a very effective place for them to be!
as i said...no rules, no limits, no judgment! just your honest, upfront and true feelings, thoughts, bitches, etc., that you want the world (or at least my world), to read, share, laugh and maybe cry about. however! crying is only allowed in small doses or when you're drunk and can't help yourself...like me acting like a jackass the other night. see...NO JUDGMENTS FROM ME!
all i'm saying is that this is your "get out of jail free" card blog...let it rip! perhaps you'll get the advice or honesty you're looking for in response to whatever it is you need and want to say. i don't know...i'm just here to bitch.
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