"say what you want to say. say what you need to say..." ~ john mayer

i've been told i should write a blog. this is me writing a blog - mostly about nothing. well...at least nothing that's mind-blowing or life-changing. furthermore, there are no rules and no limitations to this blog. lawd only knows i've never been a rule follower! i suppose in some ways that this is my opportunity to just say what it is i want and need to say, and for those of you who know me best...i'm probably not going to apologize for it.

if you've ever just wanted to unload, vent, bitch, moan and whine about life and how much it sucks kaka, and not care to be judged while just putting your feelings out there...here's your chance. or perhaps you want to tell everyone what blows your hair back and what a great day it is to be alive...bring it on! (i haven't always been a pessimist)! wink-wink. nudge-nudge. so read on my fellow bloggers!

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29 November 2010

I'd Be Lying...

...if i didn't say that i wish my cheap beer buzz was offering me some kind of solace right now. instead my cheap beer buzz has turned into a bad headache. which further exemplifies my point of getting what you pay for. hey. i'm poor. what's a poor girl to do? bud light it is.

well it looks like this will be the last of my rants, raves and bitches for the month...it's hard to believe i was just bitching about the fact that i couldn't believe it was already november, and then in a blink of an eye - an encounter in kansas city, a near bar fight, a roadtrip to indiana, the bittersweet end of a friendship, five bottles of vodka, and an apple pie and a pumpkie cheesecake later, the month is all but gone. wtf. it always seems like time has a way of slipping away from you when you're trying so hard to hang on to a memory.

it's all such bullshit.

when i was in my twenties i went on hundreds of dates and i'm not even lying. what's sad is that out of those hundreds and hundreds of dates is the fact that so few of them were good and so many of them were bad. what's equally mortifying is that my bff also likely went on hundreds of dates and her luck proved to be about just as good as mine. i guess we're two unlucky broads when it comes to the relationship world. dating world. man world. but alas, this is not a sob story about the hundreds of horrible men out there who are clearly single for a reason. no. this is the story of this unlucky broad being thirty-two and horrified at the thought of dating. i mean for fuck sake! it's not as if i'm an amateur when it comes to dating...it's that i don't want to fucking do it. shit. i'd rather be alone. and what is so fucking tragic about being single anyway? i don't have to feel guilty about ogling at beautiful men and i don't have to hide it. (when i was in a relationship i always had the decency of not being obvious about it. well...as a matter of fact, i didn't do it all because it's fucking rude).

p.s. rule number one all you dumbfucks of the world! don't unabashedly stare at some beautiful person of the opposite sex when you're on a date or you're with your significant other. DUH. like fucking DUH. (and if you're gay, the rule still applies but i'm straight so i'll write accordingly).

now where was i? oh right. the not so tragic factors of being single. i can not only brazenly stare at beautiful men...i can accidentally grab their asses! jk. that might have happened like once or twice or maybe ten times. whatever. that's not the point. my point is, is that being single is awesome because you don't have to deal with all the fucking bullshit. and let's face it, it's almost ALL fucking bullshit. i also don't have to be worried about hogging the bed or the sheets or the covers or all five fucking pillows. it's my fucking bed, i paid a pretty penny for it, and i should be able to sleep how i want in it. THE END. i can watch whatever gotdamn television channel i want, and it doesn't matter that i want to watch "legally blonde" again, in spite of the fact that i've already seen it a hundred times. HELL-OOO?! my fucking tv. and, i don't have to worry about going to my fucking refrigerator and realizing that my last powerade has gone amiss. i don't have to worry about going to the store. or keeping a clean house (although i am a neat freak so not that that's a significant factor), but if i so wanted to choose to be a slob, i could be. and i don't have to worry about shaving my legs or wearing my gramma panties. i can do what i want. although, i'm pretty sure i did all of those things anyway irregardless of being in a relationship.

what i'm trying to convey is the fact that relationships take work and i decided i'm lazy. actually i decided i just don't give a flying fuck that much anymore and i'm tired of doing all the work and trying to please people and for what?! nothing. i'm tired of always getting the short end of the fucking stick! what is wrong with people?! they're fucking assholes and that's why i hate everyone!!! being single is easy. no muss. no fuss. that i can deal with. fuck. being selfish is totally worth it!

seriously though. the thought of having to get back out there and date again makes me wanna slit my wrists. it's not fun anymore. it use to be fun because if i was on a bad date, i'd just drink myself into oblivion (in an attempt to numb the pain of another bad date), excuse myself to the ladies' room, and then call up a friend and make fun of the freak i was on a date with. that's not my idea of fun at age thirty-two. no. no it is not. although, i did have some pretty righteous laughs with my friends over all the "kill me now" dates i had been on. i do get sick pleasure in making fun of people.

i think that is why it is sometimes easier to hang on to a bad relationship than it is to try and start a new one because the very thought of having to go on ONE more bad date makes me seriously nauseous. (at least in a bad relationship you're already know what you're getting). the idea of one more bad date is going to make me vomit, and it's clearly going to make me an alcoholic. hey. i'm not saying i'm so great or that i'm a fun date except that i am. i AM. and i can justify that by saying i've never NOT been asked out for a second date but i can guarantee you, i am a screener so if i don't return your call within a day or two, you might as well forget i ever existed. because for me...? that bad date was only a bad dream and a good story to gossip to all my friends about, and believe me when i say, i'm not holding back when i lay out every last gory detail of the bad date on the table. DUH. that's what girl friends are for! don't think girls don't kiss and tell because they do! i totally do, and i have absolutely NO shame in doing so. see...i should have been borne a man. then maybe i'd also be perfectly contented sitting around, drinking my cheap beer, and masturbating to bad porn. or not. don't get me wrong. i LOVE being a woman but i'd really like to live a day in the life of a dick.

oh well damn. better get back to my single life of playing trivial pursuit by myself, (and NO. that's not a secret code phrase for sex, drugs or masturbation), i really do play the board game by myself, and i like it. so what if i'm a dork? or pathetic? or a loser? i am my own dorky, pathetic loser and i LOVE it because my refrigerator is stocked with powerade, my laundry is accumulating in the hallway, i'm wearing my gramma panties, laying right in the middle of my bed with hairy legs, and i just might watch "legally blonde" while drinking my cheap beer and belching really loudly. and i'd be lying if i didn't say that this is a very good life.

21 November 2010

It's Coming on Christmas...

...i wish i had a river i could skate away on. i hate this time of year...mostly because of the holiday's. i can handle thanksgiving (mostly because the idea of shoving my face until i want to vomit is for some reason very appealing), but gawd i hate christmas...how i fucking hate christmas. always have. always will. i really wish i could make myself like it. i want to get into the spirit, and love to decorate, and sing fucking stupid songs and care about using cookie cutters that resemble trees and stars but i just can't do it. i heard this quote the other day on the radio and it went something like this, "i already know that nobody likes me...i don't understand why we have to have a whole season to remind me of the fact that nobody likes me." well ain't that the gotdamn truth.

why in the hell do we need a day on the calendar to be nice to people? seriously. i hate people. and just because it's christmas doesn't mean i'm going to pretend to like anyone. i'm an asshole all the time, and i don't need to get in the spirit to pretend otherwise. and, i hate how everyone presumes to think i hate christmas (or valentine's day for that matter), because i never had a boyfriend on either holiday because i have. and p.s. presents (even the most beautiful and expensive and desirous of presents), does not change the fact that i hate christmas and always will.

it's just all so laughable! and i want to mock those christmas sweater wearing people who tote their shopping bags around like they're high on peppermint. i'd like to take a candy cane, suck the end until it's super pointy and stab those reindeer sweater wearing people in the throat. better yet...i'd like to stab myself in my eye - both of my eyes! so i can be spared the pain of having to witness another season of cheer, and red and green all over. BARF. it's completely tortuous and i'd much rather go to sleep for the next month and a half until the "cheer" has passed. and let's be honest...most of the cheer that people tend to exhibit this time of year is completely false, and i think that makes me want to vomit even more. lots of vomit all over christmas sweaters! now that'd get me in the spirit! it's really a shame that i despise eggnog or i'd drink lots of that nasty ass shit to further my barfing cause.

seriously. it's all so insufferable. kill me now! but bring me some turkey, stuffing, smashers and gravy, and pumpkin cheesecake before you do. a side of vodka and wine would be good too. vodka first, then the wine. preferably grey goose (that shit is smooth), and a nice cabernet. hell. don't kill me. just feed me and give me booze, and i'm sure i'll get over hating the holiday's in no time.

14 November 2010


it's funny how through all the sad and in all the pain in life when eventually you turn the corner and the big massive pile of dog shit you are expecting is not there. it's the light at the end of the tunnel. i think i hear angels singing. haha. that might actually be my mother. or not. cause lawd only knows that she certainly does not have a voice of an angel. gawd love the woman! and all the shit she puts up with from me.

i bitch and i moan and i cry a lot about a lot of different things...especially life sucking dick and being unfair. however, sometimes it's just easier to bitch, moan and cry than it is do something about anything. sometimes i'm all too eager to just let the cards fall in their places and let the pieces of the puzzle come together on their own. my friends...life is NOT a spectator sport. although, it sure is shit a lot easier hanging out by the sidelines as an observer. but where the fuck is the fun in that? go get in the fight and fight the best fight you know how because this is the first day of the rest of your life. so what the fuck are you going to do about it?

this is what i'm going to do about it. i'm going go quit being average and settling for average, and quit feeling sorry for myself and quit being a pathetic pussy. i use to have dreams and goals and somehow, some where along the way, all those ambitions got placed on the back burner. and for what?! because my parade is always being rained on? because i stepped in a pile of doggy shit? because i put someone else first? because i'm a fucktard? well fuck all that noise. (speaking of noise, my neighbors better shut the fuck up soon or i'm even calling the 5-0). sorry. it's the add.

i'm a selfish motherfucker. i'm not putting anyone else first ever again and if they don't like it, this is what i have to say, GET FUCKING BENT and SUCK MY DICK while you're at it. i've lost sight of myself - it's hard not to do through all the turmoil and the bullshit. still i just love how random life is sometimes, and how the lightbulb goes on at the most unexpected of times, and it's like, well fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit! i AM a masochist and a fucking TARD. DUH. i've already admitted to being both but now i don't want to be either. so wake the fuck up already! i'm here to tell you...I'M AWAKE! and NOT under the influence of alcohol (at the moment). well i did have a glass of wine...okay...it was like two and a half but with my tolerance that certainly wouldn't be considered "under the influence." i'm just over myself already and i'm going to do something about it.

it kind of reminds me of the time when i was in my twenties (surprise surprise), when i was dating this guy who i call fuckface and i was convinced i loved him. he was a fucking asshole and i still wish he'd die in a fire. but alas, that's not the point. the point is, is that i was all hung up on this motherfucker and then one day the lightbulb went on and i walked away and NEVER looked back. this is me now! i'm enlightened! i don't want to regress to my twenties...fuck! (i had a shit ton of fun but it wasn't that special). the light is on and i'm never looking back! because i am even tired of being pathetic. although, laying in bed all day does have its advantages.

i'm a runner. and not just physically. anyone who knows me or who has read my blog should know by now that i'm really good at the avoidance and denial game. it's too easy to live in denial and stay under the covers all day, and to silence my cell phone ringer so i don't have to deal with anyone or their questions or inquisitions. however, even avoidance and sleeping all day gets tiring and boring...i'm tired of being a snoozefest. so i'm going to leave the light on and reach deep down inside of myself and find the tenacity that use to push me forward. fuck everyone else. i hate everyone anyway (except those i don't hate), and i'm sorry if my drive and ambition and relentlessness means that some people are going to get stepped on. except that i'm not really sorry cause that's the cost of doing business. or in my case, that's the cost of having to coexist with me. if you don't like it, well then you can tell someone else who cares because i don't.

p.s. those of you who know that i don't hate you...thanks for putting up with me because i love you more than i will ever fully know how to express. and for those of you i do hate, you'll have no doubt about me hating you because i'm not very good at hiding my feelings.

midnight. who needs remorse when you got vodka and a vagina? it IS a new day.

12 November 2010

Life's A Dance

two steps forward and one step back. i'd like to say i think it's funny or ironic how life's a dance "you learn as you go...sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow. don't worry about what you don't know...life's a dance you learn as you go," (john michael montgomery). except that i don't find it all that amusing and i do worry about what i don't know, and i'm sick of learning as i go because it almost always involves me falling on my face. moreover, i'm a control freak so i'm not very good at following. hell. i'm not even a good dancer and when i do find myself in a position of dancing with another, i somehow always manage to attempt to lead, and i don't do it consciously. so john michael montgomery...thanks for the song, the dance and the advice...i'm going to continue to enjoy the song while ignoring your all-so-thoughtful philosophy on life.

recently, i've talked about how i feel like i'm regressing to my twenties and the scary thing is, i honestly feel like i am. maybe i'm in denial about my age; although, i'm pretty sure i still get carded 95% of the time so i'm pretty positive i don't give a flying fuck about my age except that i'm regressing to my twenties! maybe i'm just in denial about life and this stage in my life where it really seems like i should have better direction and bigger goals to accomplish while knowing that i can look back on life and feel as if i've been successful. but i don't. i'm lost or stuck somewhere between a rock and a hard place - either way it's sucking my balls. moreover, while i have goals yet to maintain, they are the same aspirations that i've (for the most part), have always had and have failed miserably at accomplishing. so basically i suck as a human being right now. who cares if i still get carded when i haven't even graduated from college? it's not like one of my life-long goals was to look young enough to still get carded at thirty-two. i mean hell! i could check that off my list a thousand times over and then feel as if i've really accomplished something great.

that's it! i just need to start lowering my standards and expectations of myself. sounds like fun! i can wake up tomorrow and be a big fat loser. moreover, i'll not care that i'm a big fat loser because i've also successfully learned how to turn my feelings button off. now that's a dream. too bad i'm not actually that diluted. what's wrong with being average anyway? there's plenty of average people out there who make it just fine in life. i guess that's where my need to be a perfectionist completely sabotages my total acceptance of being average. fuck.

being an adult sucks. i'm just not that into working forty hours a week and paying bills. why couldn't i have just been a trust fund baby? where were all the rich-ass celebrities when i was adopted? now it's trendy to adopt a kid from a foreign country. awesome. i missed out on that opportunity by a couple of decades or more, and instead of growing up in star-studded america i can proudly say i'm a farm girl from bum fuck nowhere. again. awesome. lucky me. i shouldn't sound like such a spoiled brat because i'm grateful for my upbringing and i love my family (not that i've always liked them but that's not the point). my point is, if i could work less and have access to millions of dollars than i would. i'm not going to pretend that i wouldn't totally revel in the fact that i didn't have to work, and could spend the day sleeping in, going to the gym, drinking bloody mary's at eleven, laying by the pool and shopping for all the shoes, handbags, jewelry and make-up i wanted because that's exactly what i'd fucking do. maybe i'd work...a little but i'm not going to kid myself or anyone else, i'd be happy not working like-ever-fucking-again.

life. fucking life. i'm still learning. and avoiding. learning to avoid those massive piles of dog shit waiting for me around the corner. i think i'm moving forward...taking steps in the right direction, looking for those imaginary cracks i'm always tripping over, avoiding the dog shit, bull shit, stupid fucking men shit, and learning to not just know that life isn't fair but to accept in full that it isn't. all the while dealing with the pain of life in the best way i know how - by behaving like an adult and drinking like a sailor. is that an oxymoron?

in spite of living and learning, and hating the dance, i can positively say this, i'm glad to know that although one of my life-long goals wasn't to look young enough or good enough to still get carded at thirty-two, i'm just glad that i look young enough and good enough to still have random, strange men at the bar buy me shots! now that's satisfaction. even if it is two steps backwards in the wrong direction. gawd love me my booze.

will someone please dance with me now so i can pretend to be in control? haha.

11 November 2010

Why We Do the Things We Do

when i find life raining down on my parade and the everything around me feels as thought it's suffocating me, and it's hard to just come up for breath, it's hard to fight back the tears. it's difficult to accept what is, and in my haste and desperation, it is too easy to ignore my better conscience and make rash decisions. ahhh...life. shit.

this is why impulsiveness and vodka (or any alcohol for that matter), just simply do not coexist in spite of our drunken convictions that they do. because when you wake up the next day and your head feels as if it's going to explode, the reality remains the same.

sometimes it's impossible to just concede to the absolutness of life, especially when you're trying so hard to ignore the truth and fight the uphill battle. you cause yourself so much grief when what you know in your mind is something you're still trying to convince your heart isn't true. and, it is when your perfectly good judgment between the war of "knowing better" and the "state of denial" in which resolution cannot be found that we too often find ourselves doing the things we do. and i realize in doing the things we do that too often we find ourselves knee deep in shit because of our asinine decisions. masochism.

sometimes reality is hard, and sometimes accepting reality can be painful (not that the hangover from all the booze you've consumed isn't painful), but there's a difference between the cards we are dealt and choosing to deny what's tangible by leaning on our friend alcohol. don't get me wrong. this isn't a lecture. i still advocate drinking, and sometimes drinking heavily. my point is, that being a masochist on every level is not just preventing me from ceasing to hit my head against the wall repeatedly, it's making me a fucktard.

why? i mean for fucksake...WHY?! it's not just about me acting like a wounded child, it's about why the fuck i even care so much in the first place that i have any feelings in the first place. i should just find that "on-off" switch (in which i use to rely heavily on), where my emotions are concerned and start utilizing it more frequently. maybe then i wouldn't give a shit about anything and my life would just be so peachy queen. maybe then i'd find my selfishness again on a WHOLE new level and not give a flying fuck about the cards that are dealt me and the walls that seem to be crumbling around me.

why do i even give a fuck? that is the question. i feel like i always have to premise all of this by saying, this isn't about being scorned or bitter because it's not. it's the fact that i'm thirty-fucking-two and why i kick myself so hard in the ass when i should just throw up my hands and say, oh fucking well. maybe if i gave a shit ton less then all of the here and now, all the shit raining down on my head would not even matter. if only life were that simple. if only it were as simple as not being a perfectionist or a control freak or being my own worst enemy. if ONLY.

we hang on to our pasts. i hang on to my past. and for what?! so i can perpetually torture myself with being a fucktard? fuck that. i wish i'd wake up tomorrow and not caring would be so easy a feat. i wish i'd wake up and find satisfaction in screaming to no one. i wish i'd wake up and not wish to go right back to bed or wish that i could start drinking at nine and not be labeled an alcoholic. i'm tired of being an adult and having responsibilities. it hasn't necessarily cracked up to be what i had imagined. go figure. i mean, i am fairly diluted when i choose to be so i should have seen this coming. fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit.

i should go to bed now. i'm sure i'll re-read this later and think that sleeping would have been a much better decision than bitching because i'm not sure how much sense i'm making. fucking work. fucking adult responsibility. i want to be the coddled, spoiled brat asshole kid who i'm going to have put up with tomorrow. gotdamnit.

07 November 2010

Life Really Sucks My Balls

if only i had balls. lawd knows that everyone who knows me best knows that i've always had the penis envy. how great would it be to be a guy and have the ability to just whip it out and take a piss while stuck in the middle of nowhere? sure beats popping a squat and worrying about getting pee on your leg. men. can't live with them. can't live without them.

maybe if i had balls i'd be less inclined to want to kick a man in the nuts. or maybe i could just run around sticking my dick in everyone without remorse. or go around breaking girls' hearts because i'm a selfish fuck who lives only for myself. maybe if i were a man i'd be less insecure because i know that six-pack i just drank isn't going straight to my gut and that women will still overlook some minor shallow flaw while i remain a completely hollow, meaningless and petty human being because even the fat girl or ugly girl needs to get laid, and i can go around sticking my dick in the next idiot to fall for my trickery. maybe. or maybe i'd be that rare ten percent of the male population who is decent...not perfect just perfectly nice and kind, and not fucking selfish.

i think it'd be great if all men had to be a woman before becoming a man. maybe then they'd understand women better. i'm not saying i completely understand men but maybe if a man had to walk a mile in a woman's shoes, he'd be less predisposed to being a selfish fucker.

what really chaps my ass is the bullshit that women and yes, myself included have to put up with. so maybe men aren't as confident as i deem them to be but that doesn't mean a man should attempt to fulfill his shortcomings by being an asshole. i mean...i know i can be a fucking bitch but i still really try to fight fair. i could totally be henious and say horrible things...factual things out loud...i could make public announcements about these facts to the world. i could make a grown man cry and wish he was never fucking borne. but do i do that?! no. because i'm a relatively decent person. it's like, what's so great about you? you're not getting any younger and you're going bald. so fuck you. (not that i don't love a bald headed man because i do...there is just something about them. mmm...beautiful). anyway. i'm getting off track. my point is, men shouldn't try and satisfy their insecurities by making their partner as equally as insecure.

i hate how men think they are so fucking perfect and that they do nothing wrong. and just because i have a vagina doesn't mean i'm moody or have a personality disorder. fuck. men are as equally as moody and shitty as women are. takes one to know one! and even if i am moody or shitty it's probably because the man did something to piss me the fuck off. okay. i won't be a total hypocrite in my state of life sucking dick because i know i'm so far from perfect when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex. i understand that i'm a whole lot of woman to deal with. nonetheless, i can admit when i'm wrong, and in spite of me being a bitch and being wrong sometimes doesn't mean that i haven't always been supportive of the other person even when shit is hitting the fan. is it really asking too much for someone to do the same for me? apparently. and i'm not some nazi-fem preaching equal rights and insisting that i can open the door myself. i'm NOT. all i'm asking is for equal support. how very demanding of me. geezusfuck. on top of it all, i can guarantee that the man did something completely asinine or behaved like a fucking asshole when they're receiving the silent treatment. just admit you're an asshole and life can go on, and i'll begin having conversations with you again. DUH.

damnit. life can be really shitty sometimes for all different sorts of shitty reasons but knowing that you have someone in your life that has your back (good, bad or ugly), makes all the difference. knowing that you have support can make life so much less bleak. when that doesn't happen it just fucking sucks dick. and then what? vodka i guess. my liver would love me a whole helluva lot more if there wasn't that massive pile of dog shit waiting for me when i turn the corner. and naturally, i'm wearing heels. FUCK ME HARD. life IS a bitch.

05 November 2010

The "X" Factor

i wake up almost every day of my life and want to scream! there is no satisfaction in screaming to my empty apartment. i'd much rather take a walk around the block and punch someone in the face. life is just seriously pissing me off to no end as of late, and between wanting to scream, kick the living shit out of a human being, and pulling out my hair, my future life in jail or as a bald woman is more promising than i'd like to admit. hence, the drinking, and the only person i'm hurting is myself so don't admonish me for being a drunk - applaud me because you're not being slammed face down into the concrete, or being blinded by some atrocious orange get-up. more importantly, drinking has allowed me to still have enough hair to donate to "locks of love".

am i the only one that believes it is simply too ironic that life has a way of shoving you down, punching you in the stomach, kicking you in the face and shitting on your head just when you begin to peel yourself off the pavement? i mean...it's not only ironic. it's total fucking bullshit. i'm just trying to weave my way through life without any hooray's while at the same time trying to avoid any unnecessary obstacles and just when i think i'm in the free and clear, i turn the corner and step in a pile of massive dog shit. fuck. does life always have to blindside me to the extent in which i feel as if i've just been hit by a car going thirty mph while crossing the street on foot? being braindead sometimes doesn't seem all that bad. at least my head would stop throbbing. damn vodka.

we've all been the ex that didn't want to be the ex in an ex-relationship. and it fucking sucks. there is nothing quite like the feeling of a ton of bricks being dropped on your chest, and your heart feeling it weighs the same, and the burden of weight makes it feel like it's going to drop into your stomach. it just hurts. there is no way around it so you have to fight through it. (p.s. this isn't me ranting about being the boo-hooing, pitiful ex).

my point is, is when one finds themself being the undesirable ex, it is too easy to make some REALLY bad decisions. and i'm talking about the crying and drunk dialing and texting. DON'T FUCKING DO IT. aside from all of that, i understand that it takes time to heal and recover...for almost everyone there is that one relationship, that one love that changed you forever. not that'd you take the fucker back or do it all over again but it's more a matter of having lived life - heartache and all. we all have different coping mechanisms that allow us to heal at different paces and in different ways. needless to say, i'm a HUGE fan of the bottle. what i'm trying to say, is that there comes a certain point in time in which you're at peace with the situation, you've accepted what is, and you've moved on.

so why, without fail does the dumper eventually come to that crossroad in life and fucking call again? WHY. fuck off. i'm not saying that bad break-ups can't lead to people being friends. what i'm saying is, FUCK OFF. there's a certain amount of time that goes by...months, years, whatever, in which the "undesirable" partner has made no point to contact the dumper, and for very good reason! because the dumper broke the dumpee's fucking heart and stomped on it repeatedly, and it took the dumpee strength and courage to resign themselves to saying, this is for the best and i've moved on. that and the dumper is a total fucker. DUH. so the dumper shouldn't treat the dumpee like they are a swinging fucking door in which the dumper has the ability to just come waltzing back in to the dumpee's life when it's convenient for the dumbfucker. i mean dumper. that's just fucking rude and inconsiderate to the dumpee and their feelings. go fuck yourself dumpers! because it's TOO FUCKING LATE.

some people have a lot of gotdamn fucking nerve. don't fucking call the person who's heart was broken after they have finally come to their senses and moved on. don't just spontaneously impede on a person's life and their happiness by bringing up the past. that's a fucking horrible thing to do to a person. and guess what you egotistical heartbreaker? you're not that fucking special or amazing so you should probably just go fuck yourself. gawd. i really fucking hate people.

In My Haze

there are so many fucking things that piss me the fuck off but that somehow i feel like i am able to prevent. i'm the crazy person doing the crazy things (in which i know better), that will land me somewhere between crying on my bathroom floor and flying off the handle. wtf. in an attempt to remain somewhat educated, i read, and when i read those ultra self-depricating, depressing prose of real life, i find myself not only relating but reeling backwards in rejection of reality. I'M that crazy person in that novel. i'm that crazy person in real life. i create this own self-loathing. and the reality doesn't only scare me...i scare myself.

this is my reality. i sabotage my own well being and my own happiness. i'm contented in never being happy and being totally disappointed and dissatisfied. this is me. i AM a masochist. should i be committed? or should i stop drinking? because in my haze i feel like the truth is staring at me in the eye and i can no longer deny the facts. gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore. vodka is suppose to make me forget how shitty my life is. instead it's confronting me head on and i don't fucking like it one gotdamn fucking bit.

do i stop drinking? or hope instead that my vodka binges will prove mostly forgetting of my pitiful existence? i just want to mostly forget the shit raining down on my head and still it won't stop slapping me in the face. motherfucker. this is reality. this is my life. fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit.

you know, when you drink so much...say...like three-quarters of a bottle of vodka, you tend to black out. i don't mind the blacking out. i mind not remembering what a gotdamn fucking bitch i am to put up with. perhaps if i'm in a really good mood and i randomly decide to overwork my liver, i'm the life of the party and a "whole ball of fun" to be around but on the contrary (which is more often than not), when i get severely intoxicated, i rapidly dive into this angry madness, and fear has no fury like a drunk-ass bitch who's pissed off at life. forget being scorned. i'm just pissed at the cards that have been dealt me. i'm not saying my life is so tragic. it's not. but fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit...throw a dog a bone already! i understand that i make my own decisions - my own very BAD decisions and that the consequences of such poor choices inevitably lead to the constant poopoo raining on my head. however, sometimes shit just rains down without any doing of my own. karma. is it karma? well...i haven't always been the nicest person walking the earth. like i said...gotdamn fucking bitch. at least i have the balls to admit it. but that doesn't mean i deserve being punched in the stomach repeatedly. i just keep hoping and holding on to the idea that the "light at the end of the tunnel" is near.

i just hope it's sooner than fucking later because i can't take too much more of this bullshit. and my liver can't take too much more of my alcohol intake in having to deal with the bullshit. maybe i should quit drinking. hahaha. yeah fucking right. i'll stop drinking when life quits shitting on my fucking head. gotdamnit.

i use to be an optimist...then i woke up one day and faced reality. good-bye optimism. and no matter how much i attempt to surround myself with the positive words of those who have come before me...i just can't quite make myself believe the magnificent wisdom that i apparently hang on to for no reason. reality. life is not a bowl of fucking cherries. and i cannot look through rose-colored glasses. it's been too hard of a life and i'm too jaded. i thought i'd know who i was at thirty-two but it is so far from the contrary. i don't know who i trust and there are times i'm not sure i trust my own feelings or choices. like i said, i scare myself.

04 November 2010


i often wonder if there is a placed reserved in heaven for people like me. whether or not you're a spiritual person or you believe in some kind of higher power, i do think that most people want to hold on to some kind of "greater good" after life. i do. i was raised a lutheran in a very religious and traditional household and while i don't necessarily hold on to all of the same beliefs my parents attempted to instill in me, there is very much a part of me that simply can't let go of the past.

as i get older i'm not sure what i believe anymore. i always thought the picture would become clearer but it is anything but! and for fuck sake! it drives me crazy!!! at the age of 32 - yes fucking 32! (who would've thunk)?! i really indeed thought i'd have life figured out by now. okay. so no one really has life figured out at almost any age but i sincerely thought that i'd have this clear vision in life and that i'd know where i'm going and what my destiny was. ahhh...life. it has such a way of playing mind games on a person! fuckingfuckfuckshitmotherfucker. and it pisses me off. this regressing to my twenties was clearly not in the bigger picture - DUH. but gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore...how the fuck did i get to be where i am?

here comes the big A-HA! bad decisions. bad, bad, very bad decisions. so all the choices i made weren't mind-blowingly retarded but nonetheless, my lack of better judgments has clearly landed me in this fucking bullshit state of existence. ahhh...what to do? except realize and accept the fact that i'm a complete fucking idiot who should live up and own up to her own asinine mistakes? but fuck. that sucks. it would be so much easier to blame someone else for me being a totally fucktard. and it's not that i couldn't glaringly throw out a few names (who i honestly do believe), have contributed to my downfall as a human being but let's face it, no one takes responsibility for their own actions anymore. this is me taking responsibility for being a total fucking tard and turning off my brain more than once to fulfill some other kind of self-prophecy that was clearly not in the cards. this is what happens when you stray from the master plan.

i'm not saying i know who the master is or what the master plan is...but what i am saying is, sometimes we know better and we still say, FUCK IT! and go on. and then later we sit there, scratching our heads in disbelief, when, in fact, we know better. gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore. see...and you all thought i was the only masochist on the face of the planet. hahaha!

fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit. i hate my life sometimes. seriously. so i'm going to hell. what now? i'm a failure. vodka.

02 November 2010

Damn! Shit! Damn! Shit! Fuck!

november. really?! REALLY?! damn. so apparently october flew by in a frenzy and besides myself seeming to not have time to do anything but bust my ass at work and get drunk (of course), i haven't had time to write or respond to the five zillion emails in my inbox. fuck. and now it's november. FUCK!

gotdamnsonuvabitchwhoremotherfucker. i am a horrible procrastinator and it seems to becoming progressively worse with age. perhaps my memory going to the shitter and the ADD distracting me from doing anything is also a contributing factor. or perhaps it's a really good excuse just to be a lazy fuck.

in the past month there were several times in which i wished i had had more time to sit down and bitch to anyone who is out there reading. but alas, instead of turning to my blog to express my bitchiness on "paper", i opted for repressing my feelings with the bottle. and, it came in three different forms...beer, vodka, wine. i think that's pretty much it - those tend to be my most reliable options when drowning my sorrows. once in a horrible blue moon i'll lean on my friend jack but that's a whole different kind of drunk that no one needs to see. anyway. after having successfully completed a half-marathon the first weekend of october and deciding on some downtime from running, among the four thousand "something's come up" excuses and complications, i really hadn't done any running at all. gawd. it is just too easy to drink my life away when i'm not conned into getting out of bed early on a saturday morning to go running.

so i drink. not because my life is so tragic and i hate mostly everyone but it's what i call "avoidance" which coincidentally goes hand-in-hand with "denial". i use to run away from my life's problems, now i just ignore all the shit that's constantly raining on my head and pretend that my life is normal. that whole "fight or flight" reaction has been stifled in me for a very long time...i do not care to go storming into the battle to face the reality, and i do not care to run like a crack whore in the other direction. i'm perfectly content in ignoring my shitty life and pretending that i'll wake up one day and it will all just have been a very bad dream. of course, alcohol comes in to play a very necessary role in my fairy la-la land.

p.s. just in case you're wondering - no. no intervention is needed. i've simply regressed to my twenties and i'll snap out of it pretty soon and resign myself to having to live in the real world.

and p.s. the real world sucks my dick!

if life were only as simple as being the stupid, slutty, sloppy, joke of a human being i saw on saturday night while grabbing some late night mexican food at a reliable joint guaranteeing there would be plenty of halloween clad party-goers to make fun of. (i love making fun of people and i secretly wish harm on others. teehee!). i was in a very subdued state when we trekked on down to "el rancho" to get our grub on, i was also probably the most clothed human being. fuck. it's cold out! put some clothes on you stupid, slutty college girls! or at least wear a jacket when you're prancing around outside. (it's sick to think about what women will do to gain a man's attention. BARF!). boobies ready to fall out of bustiers and asses sagging from shorts shorter than my underwear. vomit. i don't have a perfect body and even if i did, i'd cover that shit up. so i don't know whether to applaud the women who have the balls to put anything on and go out, or whether to take them aside and inform them that they have shitty friends because no one needs to see you prancing around in a fucking DIAPER. an adult diaper that appears to look like you actually took a shit in because it's sagging from your crotch and ass! WTF! to top it all off, the sloppy whore sat down next to me and then proceeded to eat a burrito like a sow. it was completely disgusting and horrendous and very unappetizing. some people should just not be allowed in public. PERIOD. and that's all i have to say about that.

well damn. time to get the show on the road and accomplish something today. fuck.