"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

Enlightenment

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

A-ha!

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.

11 October 2010

Time Changes Everything

with fall well upon us, it's difficult not to think about change. i love fall - it's my favorite! but undoubtedly, it does not come without the inevitable change. i'm not completely certain that my love for fall has anything to do with change in itself but instead the transition it brings with it, including the weather and the elements of nature. for me there is nothing like waking up to a sun-soaked room only to throw the covers back (as i'm rushing to the bathroom before i pee my pants), and feel that crisp fall air hit me in the face like a crack whore gone crazy freak on me. damn! but alas...and that smell?...mmmhmmm...what is that smell? do you think it's possible to put that amazing fall smell in a bottle? the early fall weather often reminds me of spring but the smell is just not the same. i guess that's the difference between spring when nature is coming to life again and fall when the outside world begins to hibernate and become dormant.

so i relate to the bleak...well...i am a fall baby. but more than anything i think of fall as a transition period, a time for new beginnings - a time to reflect and to think about what changes i want to make and what steps i need to take to move forward in life. sounds ass-backward i know but let's face it...i've never been a rule follower. oh! and did i mention that fall always ensures the return of football?! yeah baby! now if that's not a reason in itself to love fall. go vikings!!!

p.s. what in the hell are you doing up there minnesota? nothing surprises me about that franchise anymore and i'm positive the only thing that would is a trip to the superbowl. go vikings!!! wootwoot!

oh right...now where was i? fall. change. ahhh...yes. what's not to love about change? except evereything? one thing i've realized as i've aged is that i'm less inclined to favor change. not that i fight it or am totally oblivious to it anyway (most of the time), that i even bother to notice change until after it has happened so it really doesn't affect me. but i've also realized (as i've gotten older), that at times change is just hard...sometimes it's just a pain in the ass, sometimes it will make a person cry, and sometimes a person just simply isn't ready for change - unexpected or not.

that's the other thing about fall...it makes me overly nostalgic and sentimental. yeahyeahyeah. sentimentality IS possible even for me. but that doesn't mean you'll find me hanging out in hallmark, reading cards, and wiping my snot on my sleeve (only because i never have a tissue handy...i would've been a very bad boy scout). my point is, is that i look back at this past year and understand the changes that everyone has been faced with. it makes me incredibly sad to think about a time when life was just as easy as meeting up at "old chicago" on a tuesday night with the girls to drink beer and play trivia. it makes me sad that i'm not in denver to share the pain of life with my girls and to drink that pain away with wine. i'm disappointed to know that there is a friend who has entered motherhood for the first time with a baby girl i've never met. it makes me sorry to know that another friend has faced a painful divorce and when leaning on someone could've meant something i wasn't there. it makes me sad that the worthy advice from a friend during our weekly lunches has left me (for the most part) to my own mostly bad advice. but what makes me sad the most, is the childhood friend who has become lost in the shuffle of life and has stories to tell me and memories i've missed...stories and memories that at one time would not have been so remiss because we would talk almost every friggin' day of the week. that's what makes me sad about change.

it makes me sad to know how time and distance and our shitty lives create such an immense space where before there was none. it makes me want to fucking scream and rip my hair out to think about how just when i think life should be getting easier it takes a wrong turn somewhere between "you're an idiot" avenue and "you made a bad decision" boulevard, and i find myself regressing to my early 20s. and let's just say, my early 20s were not pretty. trauma and drama and bullshit OH MY! it breaks my heart to know both about the pain of my friends and the joy of my friends, and not have the ability to share that with them.

but i'm not here to just talk shit about change because i realize that it is almost always easier to fail to see the light at the end of the tunnel amidst the battle. however cliche it may be, the old adage is true, "hindsight is always 20/20"...and so it is. my point is, is that even though change can sometimes suck major kaka, it can still also be good. not that i don't understand that it might take a second to get to the good part but right around the corner of "fucking shitty" is the revelation that in spite of the pain, tears and bullshit, it might be worth it. although, i'm clearly a pessimist so when I'M amidst the battle...i think the world is going to end or hope that it will. nonetheless, i'm a survivor so good, bad or ugly...change is what it is. and, while change isn't always a bad thing, the one true thing about it is that it IS inevitable.

03 October 2010

I'll Do What I Want

you know...i'm just gonna bitch about whatever-the-fuck i want to because i can. and i can barely fucking walk. actually walking is the easy part. standing up is a real whore. i'm just extremely irritated and pissed off today so i feel like a good fucking tongue-lashing is needed.

i am so fucking sick of people. i fucking hate everyone. that will never change. and if i call you and i decide to hang up on you, don't give me fucking attitude. i called you. i'll hang up on you if i fucking want! yeah, it's rude. but i don't really give a flying fuck right now.

i hate how people presume that i'll just randomly wake up one day and totally lose any recollection of who they are. i know when you're being a fucking asshole. and i know when you're being weird. so if you're being weird and i say that you're being a fucking weirdo, THAN YOU ARE.

what?! i was in a relationship with a man for almost two years, i've known him for almost three and i don't know who he is anymore? maybe not. but i still know when he's being a fucking weirdo. and so if i called to talk to him and ask him a deeply personal question and he's behaving strangely than i'm probably going to be less inclined to want to talk to him. and yes. i'm going to fucking hang up on him because it's my fucking RIGHT. i called him. i'll fucking hang up when i want. at least i said good bye so he knew i was hanging up, and therefore, for all intents and purposes it wasn't just me hanging up on him. i said good bye. what kind of warning or necessary statement would be a better indication that i'm about to hang up?! geezus. FUCKINGGOTDAMNSONUVABITCHWHORE! people drive me fucking nuts!

FUCK EVERYONE.

oh and another thing! don't ask me to go out of my way for you and tell ME what is an appropriate tone of voice to take with you, if you don't know how to follow your own gotdamn fucking advice. you hypocrite. FUCK. okay. so i realize people don't necessarily ask me to go out of my way for them but as typically selfish as i am, i'm also a very giving and generous person to those people i care about. so if i bring you dinner (and by the way, remember the conversation we had about it beforehand and how you said that would be great if i did so), i don't care if you got in a shitty fucking mood between then and a fucking hour from then, eat the gotdamn dinner that i went out of my way to bring you. fucking groceries aren't free. and on top of it all, don't fucking lecture me and then throw my gotdamn dish in the back of the refrigerator. and NO. i don't think that's asking too fucking much!

and i don't care if you're fucking sick! that's not an excuse to act like an ungrateful asshole either. i was the one that got up in the middle of the gotdamn fucking night to run to the supermarket because you somehow "lost" your drugs between leaving for work and returning home. so don't fucking snap at me because i'm just trying to be helpful. drive your own grown-ass, sickly self to the supermarket at midnight next time and then tell someone who fucking cares.

i know you're fucking sick. and i'm sorry. it fucking sucks. but at least you have someone that cares about you enough that they're there for you, wiping your forehead, feeding you drugs and ensuring that you have everything you need, and NOT caring about your germ-infested, sweaty, stinky self. so the last thing you probably want to do is fucking bite that person's head off or even say something to them that comes across as slightly shitty.

oh! and another gotdamn thing. since we're being such good friends and what-the-fuck-ever...you care so much about me - VOMIT. you could at least attempt to show up and be on fucking time for ME. the one thing that meant something to me in all this turmoil and bullshit that i've faced this year, and you can't even fucking be on time?! guess what?! you missed it. oh right. you're sick. being sick forgives everything. FUCKING BLOW ME.

you're not even positive whether you're 100% on my side and i'm doing all of this for you and FOR WHAT?! i'm my own worst enemy and my harshest critic, so i certainly don't need reinforcement about my self-worth by being treated like a fucking gotdamn doormat. i may be a mashochist but i'm not a gotdamn fucking idiot. (at least i'm not MOST of the time).

oh and p.s. world! this is why i fucking drink.

it's a good gotdamn thing that so many people piss me the fuck off or i'd have nothing to bitch about.

29 September 2010

Perspective

for as much as i bitch about columbia, i have to say that i am fairly impressed with the amount of appreciation and regard given to the "central missouri honor flight" organization and those world war II veterans that this institution pays its highest gratitude and respect to. central missouri honor flight is a "non-profit organization created solely to honor america's veterans for all their sacrafices. the group transports [america's] heroes to washington d.c., to visit the memorials dedicated to honor their sacrafices," (central missouri honor flight). for further information regarding this organization, please visit www.centralmissourihonorflight.com.

while i feel as if i was somewhat educated about this non-profit organization, there is something to be said about seeing the operation in full force. upon every "honor flight" return from d.c., (the turn around time from departure to return is virtually twenty-four hours), a crowd gathers at the courtyard marriott to welcome the veterans, and it is without question an extraordinary and beautiful (as well as organized), spectacle. as the buses transporting the veterans approach columbia, a group of bikers known as the "freedom riders" patiently await to pave the way back to the marriott. i had heard of the freedom riders and the crowds that congregate to pay tribute to these veterans who have been easily forgotten (as their war was long before my generation), but to stand there and witness the scene was quite unbelievable. words cannot describe the emotion and so i urge all of you who have not had the opportunity to witness this welcome home, to take one night out of your busy lives to say thank you by just showing up as these veterans return from d.c.

my primary reason for going had nothing to do with welcoming a specific veteran home but instead i was there to see a "guardian" (one of several selfless volunteers who assists in the safe transport of these veterans) return. it was late on a tuesday night and i wasn't overly eager to trudge out in the middle of the night. yeahyeahyeah. it was all of 1030. however i went and as tired as i was, i will never regret having gone. i don't want to sound overly emotional at risk of sounding like a GIRL but there were several times when i had to choke back a tear. actually that may have had something to do with drinking a bottle of wine before driving my ass down there. just kidding. about being emotional. not about drinking a bottle of wine. on that note, there are plenty of columbia police officers and state patrol also assisting in this amazing endeavor, so i'd advise not being a lush before sauntering around a bunch of men with badges and guns. (unless of course, you're an expert lush like me...my goal was to get a bit intoxicated but that didn't happen. however, a horrible headache did result. damn wine!).

but alas...the ADD is kicking in. my point is, if hundreds of bikers can bring themselves to face the chilly temperatures to pay a very well deserved homage to these veterans at some ungodly hour of the evening, and handfuls of others can show their (mostly ugly) faces to welcome home these veterans, than you can too. quite frankly, i think it should be mandatory that everyone go once. i mean for fuck sake, these men risked their lives fighting on foreign soil so that we can have the freedoms that we take for granted, i think in the very least, every single human being (cute, fugly, average, beautiful or hot), man, woman and child, can take their tooshes down to the marriott and say thank you by just being there. you won't regret that you did. i hate to think of the day that everyone who should go, says "next time" and the welcome home crowd is all but none. these veterans aren't afforded the luxury of saying "next time" so don't think about it and just do it. we all need perspective in our lives at times...this is a perfect opportunity to gain that perspective that often goes remiss.

25 September 2010

Is It Just Me...?

since i've recently become a blog whore, i've been reading other mid-missouri blogs, mostly those that pertain to columbia and well...food (since i'm also a self-proclaimed food whore).

here's what i am having difficulty understanding in most of the blogs i have read that aim to review and criticize local restaurants, and that is, what qualifies as good asian food. and since i've just very recently bitched about this, i will try not to go overboard with my rant (especially because my blog isn't targeted at reviewing restaurants). also, i was suppose to work and was then told i was not needed this evening so i have a lot of unexpected time on my hands, (and i've done all the internet "window" shopping i've cared to torture myself with today). so i'm just going to premise this post by saying that my intention is not to offend anyone but i'm also NOT going to apologize to anyone if i do.

i was recently reading a food blog and i have to admit that i agreed with a lot of the restaurant reviews that the author had to offer. but what i cannot just wrap my brain around is the perpetual ravings i've heard about "osaka" since i moved to columbia. okay. admittedly, in my very humble opinion, osaka does not suck - it is not bad. in fact, i would say that it's decent, above average, if you will. however, it's not that fucking great. i'm sorry columbians. that is just my opinion. again, i will say that i'm rather spoiled having lived in denver for almost ten years and also for having had the opportunity to try sushi all over the country. perhaps my sushi eating experiences have made me into the sushi snob that i am. but i've tried a lot of fucking gotdamn sushi in my lifetime. in fact, an ex-boyfriend and i use to make a point to try a different sushi restaurant almost every instance in which we were craving rolls and sashimi. so i think i can honestly say that my scale level in which i rate sushi is pretty gotdamn fair.

maybe what i'm not understanding is what people are actually trying to say, and that is, if you want good sushi and/or japanese food in columbia, you should go to osaka but the bigger picture is, is that it will never compare to the best sushi you've had somewhere else in the country. maybe that's the point that is trying to be conveyed? i don't know. then again, i hear people also rave about how great "sake" is and while i would admit that it is also pretty average, it's also not that fucking great, and if i'm paying that much for sushi it better be gotdamn fucking good. because i can find a whole helluva lot better and cheaper sushi in chicago.

i have yet to try "kampai" but have heard very good things about it, and therefore, being the pessimist i am, have my doubts. i have been to "geisha" and was very pleased and would say that it rates well above osaka and sake especially where taste and value is concerned. is it the best i've ever had? fuck no. but i'd definitely eat there again before anywhere else. "kobe" is a chain and so in my opinion, it's useless to factor them into the picture but honestly they suck (or at least the one and last time i was there it was totally shitty). i know very little about "kabuki" (my gut instinct and also something i recall reading somewhere leads me to believe they are a chain), what i do know is the sushi is average. i would also like to give notice to "jina yoo's" but i'm going to refrain from doing so for personal reasons. and before "bamboo" changed they were also on the list of average. lastly, "kojaba" a blend of korean and japanese cuisine is not worth the drive to i-70 business loop and it's definitely not worth your time or money.

so there my fellow readers, foodies and bloggers...that's my take on sushi in columbia.

p.s. whenever i go to chicago i always make a point to go to one particular sushi restaurant and that is "bob san" in the infamous wicker park area. go if you're ever in the area. you will not be disappointed. again, maybe you will go and you won't be that ecstatic or impressed. perhaps (like i often do), i've just come to associate bob san with certain experiences and/or memories and that's why i'm convinced it's so great. you be the judge.

23 September 2010

Where Have All the Chain Restaurants Gone?

i'm not going to lie. i will bitch about living in columbia as long as i live here. however, i do want to say that it isn't just columbia but it's missouri in general that i have issues with. i lived in denver for almost ten years and it would be easy to say that i was rather spoiled when it came to the ease of accessibility of food or booze, and for the most part when i wanted it. hell. it's no new york city but there were options! good options. and a shit ton of them.

those who know me best know i'm a total foodie, food snob, food whore, whatever, and i generally tend to stray from chain restaurants but sometimes all a person wants and/or needs is some good grub from a chain. and no. i'm talking about your applebee's, red lobster's, or olive garden types. i'm talking about your old chicago's (gawd i miss late night pizza and beer with the girls), red robin's, boston's, anthony's, and drive-thru liquor stores. moreover, what about late night fastfood? i don't know if i should admit this out loud but i miss the bacon double del cheeseburger from del taco. fastfood is ALL the same here and i'm over it!

don't even get me started on independent restaurants and the lack of selection in columbia. it's completely atrocious and very sad. yes. there are a handful of quality mom and pop restaurants that are excellent but they are very far and few between, and i want options! OPTIONS! i'm an options girl!

columbia has a large asian population and for a city its size, it does in fact have numerous chinese, sushi and asian restaurants. but i haven't had good pho (traditional vietnamese soup), since i left denver. in fact, i haven't had good chinese since i left denver. yes. there are some pretty decent chinese restaurants but nothing that blows my hair back. and there is only one restaurant that serves pho and it's definitely nothing to write home about. i'm talking about your big ass bowl of pho with an abundance of rice noodles and beef, and endless amounts of jalapeno, cilantro and limes to garnish your soup with. (sorry "chinese wok express" but your pho is just not cutting it). it's no wonder that whenever i plan a visit to denver it always includes me gorging myself with pho. it also involves all my other plans around food and the restaurants i miss.

my mouth is watering at the thought of "la cocina" and the delicious pork carnitas that practically make you want to jizz in your pants at first bite. mexican food in columbia is fair but i don't know how many times i've woke up on a saturday and craved a big ass breakfast burrito and then realized that i'm fucked. believe me when i say that "la cocina" is always on the list of places to eat when i return to denver, and it's for the breakfast burritos as big as your head and the pork carnitas!

yes. i realize i'm not in denver anymore but that's not the fucking point. i mean hell! columbia doesn't even have ONE good italian restaurant. sure there are some average italian restaurants but i haven't returned to even one of those establishments a second time, and clearly that's because they're not that fucking special. i can make better italian food at home and i'm KOREAN. (okay. some might argue that fact since i'm adopted and was raised a honky but i look korean so if it suits my argument i'll use the korean card if i want)! but i have an affinity for italian food. and men. and designers. (gotdamn them italian designers and their beautiful clothes and handbags)! my point is, i know the difference between average, good and excellent italian food when i'm shoving it in my face, and the only italian i've found in columbia that i care to shove in my face is that hot ass guy that works downtown. i think he's italian. just fucking kidding. i mean he is hot and he does look italian. but seriously. it's gelato (which by the way is not made fresh at some cutsey little place but found in the frozen novelty section in the supermarket - SAD).

maybe what i miss is the sentimental value i've attached to these different restaurants. maybe the food isn't as good as i remember. maybe i just have all these wonderful memories with friends that have been made at restaurants - chain or not. irregardless, columbia's restaurant scene is average and as far as i'm concerned (being the spoiled brat that i am), could use a lot of vast improvements!

22 September 2010

Some Kids' Parents These Days

i think kids are assholes, well most of them anyway. i use to think, gawd! some peoples' kids! ANNOYING! but what i understand now is that children are only products of their parents. so if your kid is an asshole...it's your fucking fault.

i don't have children. i like vodka. so i'm not going to sit here and tell anyone how to raise their children or what is right or wrong. what i am going to bitch about is how kids are not only just assholes these days but how they're a bunch of fucking pussies. yes. pussies. and it seriously annoys the fuck out of me.

let's just say i work in an industry that involves children. and i've never seen a generation of bigger ass pussies in my life. since when do children dictate to their parents what they will and won't do? and since when did that become not only acceptable but the norm?

if i was defiant (and i was), my mother sent me outside to sit in the car and she didn't give a shit if it was one hundred degrees outside. punishment is a real bitch. at least i probably stopped acting like an asshole. most of the time anyway. okay. i lie. some of the time. admittedly, i lived in a small town where fear of kidnapping was slim-to-none. moreover, i'm sure my mother thought that if anyone were to actually kidnap me, they'd get half a block before slamming on their brakes while saying nevermind and then proceed to kick me out of their molester van. and don't even get me started on misbehaving in church because her claws in my side were fierce!

my point is, is that i see children all day long basically mandating to their parents what they will and won't do. why do parents coddle their children? or negotiate with them? if my mother or father told me that we were going somewhere and we were going to do this or that or whatever, there were no questions asked. there was no deliberation. we (as in my siblings and i), just did what we were told and there was no bribery involved either. if any of us attempted to put up a fight it would have easily been resolved with a spanking. i applaud my parents. and no. i do not feel as if i was abused.

perhaps if i were actually a parent i would perceive the situation differently. but i'm pretty sure if i had a kid that decided they wanted to argue with me about what they were or were not going to do, i'd take the asshole outside and say, it's going to go like this...you're going to do what i say or i'm going to beat you into oblivion. done. end of argument. no beatings necessary. i don't advocate child abuse but sometimes all a bratty child needs is a good spanking. and don't think i wouldn't even threaten to abandon my child at a local wal-mart just to scare the fear of God into them because we've all seen the scary motherfuckers who shop at wal-mart. lawd only knows that's the last place i'd want to be left if i were five.

oh and since when did it become okay to let your child scream their head off in public? little fuckers. i swear! don't ruin my shopping experience! and don't ruin my dining out experience! your kid screaming in the booth next to me or running around in a restaurant (TOTALLY inappropriate by the way), is killing my fucking buzz. and i'm not even talking about sitting outside somewhere (or inside for that matter) that is family friendly...i'm talking about restaurants in which you really shouldn't be bringing your child in the first place. again. i'm not a parent. i'm not saying you should leave your five year-old at home...what i'm saying is, if they cannot behave in public and sit politely than you need to remove them from my sight or hire a babysitter.

and p.s. when i go to restaurants, i always ask the host(ess) to sit me somewhere AWAY from people with kids.

in addition to kids being little shits what i don't understand is this whole coddling business. are we intentionally trying to make kids big ass wimps? i was in the supermarket today when quite unexpectedly i hear this awful screaming coming from the restroom. i'm like, wtf. it sounds like a pig being slaughtered in there! out comes this kid with his father and apparently the kid is screaming his head off because the hand-dryer came on without his direction and it caught him off guard. okay. hand dryers can be a little scary. NOT FUCKING REALLY. maybe the sound or the surprise of it shook him up but does that really require the pussy to start screaming like a friggin' banshee? good gawd. i thought my eardrums were going to burst. okay. that's a slight exaggeration but it was completely fucking annoying. then i saw the little asshole and realized he was probably five and i thought (out loud), what a fucking pussy and a shithead.

again. i'm not a parent. i've never expressed the desire to be one. maybe my view and opinion would change if i were a parent. i don't know.

yes. i do realize that sometimes i'm the grown-ass adult acting like the shithead at the supermarket or in public. but i'd rather be an asshole than a pussy. who the fuck is scared of a hand-dryer anyway? do you think the kid screams his head off when the television comes blaring on to the sound of barney? probably not. although, i would.

21 September 2010

It's NOT All in the Packaging

don't think i don't understand or realize how trivial it is to bitch about commercials but anyone who knows my television viewing habits knows how much i absolutely friggin' HATE them! and yes, i do realize i'm a victim of such wretched commercials only by my own choosing but i shit you not, when it's commercial time i flip the channel, mute the television or take the opportunity to run to the bathroom, grab another beer, whatever. in fact, my ex informed me that i was the only person he knew that watched two or three television shows simultaneously. (and i'm not talking about picture in picture). but i so loathe commercials that this is why i developed the habit of watching multiple television shows concurrently. also, another reason why i idolize the inventor of the dvr! gawd love ya'! i am completely at loss without mine. boo for me.

commercials are LAME. just in case you haven't had the pleasure of seeing kotex's latest and greatest advertisements, let me take the time to educate you. apparently, kotex is now attempting to convince the world that tampons are cute. or at least the packaging is. WTF. seriously?! go fuck yourselves, kotex. tampons are not cute and it doesn't matter what kind of package they come in...we still know that there's a fucking tampon in there and the frivolous wrapper that they come in is not deceiving anyone. not anyone over the age of four anyway. i don't really fucking care what the wrapper looks like, i see it for about two seconds before it goes straight into the garbage. so quit wasting your money on making tampon wrappers cute and advertising that they are cute because they're not.

here's an analogy if it helps. putting prada on the fugly little, hairy elf thing or whatever the hell it is from "lord of the rings" does not make it cute. clothing amy winehouse in vera wang does not make her cute. think of the ugliest person you know. put the most stinkin' adorable, red patent leather dolce & gabbana handbag over their head. we know that the person hiding in the hot ass bag is still fugly. now put a paperbag over their head. guess what?! still ugly. do these ugly people still serve some utility in life? probably. (i don't know the ugly person you're thinking of). my point is that kotex, tampax and every other delusional tampon-making company should just even stop with all the bells and whistles when it comes to the packaging. cause no one really fucking cares. making a tampon wrapper cute doesn't solve all the other issues involved when it comes to being in misery, (however often that occurs for every individual woman). so unless the tampons come with free alcohol don't even try to market to me anything other than the fact that they're just tampons.

again. i hate commercials. and stupid asinine kotex tampon commercials that tout how cute tampons are, only furthers my point about how fucking ridiculous and idiotic commercials are. again. i miss my dvr. gawd! break-ups suck. (he got to keep his dvr and i got stuck with basic cable). guess i should put down the vodka and invest in the dvr package with the shitty cable company.

17 September 2010

Roll With the Punches

i'm getting fucking old and i'm not even happy about it.

apparently i have slept wrong on my arm/shoulder/back (somewhere in that general anatomy of my body). that was three or four days ago. in fact, i'm getting old to the point in which i don't even remember what morning i woke up and wanted to swallow a bottle of vicodin. that's sad. maybe it's the a.d.d. nonetheless, my dismay resides in the fact that five years ago...well hell...two years ago i could have awoke with this muscle pain, swallowed a couple of advil and a half a bottle of vodka, passed out and got up the next morning and not even remembered having any pain at all. now i just want to swallow a bottle of vicodin with a bottle of vodka and i'm convinced that still wouldn't cure me.

this means i'm getting old and i just have to throw out a big ole' WTF for that. and i'd like to believe that i'm in decent shape (besides all the toxins i put in my body on a regular basis). okay. admittedly, the most fit i've ever been was just about 9 months ago. do the math. yeah. getting old also entails not bouncing back into shape as quickly. i think i've always attempted to maintain a decent figure but i can't say that even in my 20s was i in as good of shape as i was nine fucking months ago. another WTF.

my point is, since i like to live in my diluted world and have convinced myself that i'm in good shape, it completely dumbfounds me that i still have yet to recover from this muscle ache that is more annoying than it is anything else. one of my running partners was all fiesty last night and in good nature gave me a little shove to my "bad" shoulder and i was like, gotdamnsonuvabitchwhore! everyone who knows me, knows that i'm not a fucking pussy...i think i have a very high pain tolerance level...especially when it comes to putting up with men. (haha. yes. i just HAD to throw that in there...hey when opportunity knocks). anyway. it's not as if i felt like i was just whacked over the head with a baseball bat but i was somewhat astounded that it hurt at all.

p.s. would i sound like a hypochondriac if i said that i think i have a pinched nerve?

honestly i just thought by this morning i'd wake up and be roaring to kick ass (i wasn't even concerned that i didn't go to bed until 4:30). oh and by this morning i mean noon. but gotdamn. my shoulder hurts more than it did yesterday! what-the-fuck!

normally i'd deal with the pain like a grown-ass man and just roll with the punches but today i'm feeling like a giant pussy and i'm tired. i'm also looking at the clock and thinking that running does not sound so good since i have to be at work in two and a half hours. and believe me there will be plenty of "rolling with the punches" there and running around like a crackwhore on drugs.

oh and p.s. i really just want to tell everyone to fuck off and lay in bed like the pathetic piece of shit i was last friday. i'm so sick of people! WITH the exception of a few and when i say few i mean VERY few. those of you whom i have relationships with and who do not live in this armpit of the universe are not generally assessed in this group of "everyone i fucking hate today".

16 September 2010

Really. REALLY?!

so i've bitched and moaned about columbia on numerous occasions and while it definitely isn't the cosmoplitan capital of the world it's not a completely unfortunate or wretched place to live. it could use vast improvements but nonetheless, i've taken up residence here so i should appreciate it for what it does have to offer, (however little that may be).

i was driving down broadway the other day (columbia's major thoroughfare that runs east and west), when i hit the freshly grated pavement. ahhh...the city has decided to re-pave the street! hee-fucking-haw!! not fucking really. they're investing all this money to resurface the street while ignoring the fact that they should be widening it?! what a bunch of bullshit.

yeahyeahyeah. you friggin' ignorant bastards with your big yards and you tree-hugging hippies who cannot fathom the thought of the necessity of these beautiful blessings being cut down. i understand the dilemma. i do. i really do. i think it's a shame that the widening of broadway would require the loss of these landmarks. but as a city who touts itself on being so forward thinking while having breached the one-hundred thousand population status, sometimes there are evils in life and in economic progress that are indeed simply necessary. i love big yards and big trees...i grew up on a farm and so i understand both the aesthetic and re-sale value that both offer. but i also drive a fucking car and don't care to sit in unnecessary traffic because of someone's gotdamn yard or trees in their yards.

for fuck sake...get over yourselves. get over the politics. get over the bullshit. and widen the gotdamn fucking street. and quit wasting my tax dollars on some unnecessary bullshit resurfacing, and think about how if the desire is to truly present to the world that columbia is so progressive and the goal is to continue to grow and move forward universally and economically than the result is simply going to have to be residents' yards diminishing and trees being cut down. NECESSARY EVIL. fucking widen the gotdamn street to four lanes already and get over yourselves you fuckers. and by the way, it really should be six lanes so four isn't fucking half bad.

and p.s.! while you're at it...fucking regulate the street lights properly so that they run effectively and create smooth flowing traffic. 100k people. two lane MAJOR thoroughfares, and traffic lights that are ass fucking backwards. gotdamn engineers. what fucking school did you all go to anyway? geezusFUCK.

i guess this is what they call "small town" politics except that it isn't fucking small anymore. (toto...we're not in kansas anymore so quit acting like it). i'd like to go around knocking on people's fucking heads' to see if they're just hollow or if what really needs to happen is that these people need to read the rest of my blogs and learn how to grow a pair. bullshit. it's total bullshit. it's bullshit with a capital FUCKING "B"!

and now that i have that rant out of my system i can drink my beer and go to bed!

p.s. it's kansas city beer where they have streets with the proper number of lanes to accomodate the population and streetlights that are coordinated properly. so why don't you just put that in your pipe and smoke it?!

WTF

without going into too much detail regarding a particular incident that i recently found myself in, i walked away from the situation thinking WHAT THE FUCK. and i'm not talking about a simple little wtf...i'm talking a big FUCKING WHAT THE FUCK.

you know...i hate liars. and i'm not talking about a little pansy ass fib or white lie that doesn't involve serious repercussions or severe damages to anyone's life or feelings if they were to discover the fib, i'm talking about a bold-faced, WTF, bullshit LIE. some people have a lot of gotdamn nerve.

let's just say that this pussy ass bitch who calls himself a man (and for all intents and purposes is because he sort of looks like one except that whole "sand in his vagina" part), made this gross accusation about me assaulting him. i was like, motherfucker. okay. so in all honesty there were no serious consequences to this lie of his but nonetheless, that shit seriously pissed me off. especially because i'd have no problem admitting to assaulting someone if it were in fact the TRUTH! (just ask that pussy dwightfuckface who's nose i broke). except that it wasn't the truth. i wanted to tell that pussy ass bitch that if i had indeed assaulted him, his tiny little penis would have remembered because he'd have been laying in a hospital bed with more than a bruised ego and a bleeding vagina. i'm like, seriously?!

oh and p.s. i actually have no real knowledge that the man has a napolean complex but one could easily deduce that he HAS to, given the fact he would lie about something that makes him look like a giant DOUCHEBAG.

MOREOVER, i wanted to tell this guy who needs to buy himself a box of tampons that i didn't feel like robbing him of any more of his manhood by kicking his ass because clearly he had already gotten beaten with the FUGLY stick when he shot out of his mom's nasty twat! that sonuvabitch. and you know, if it hadn't been for the environment in which i was in and i had just randomly seen the bitch on the street i would have without hesitation told that lying sack-of-shit dickbag what i thought.

yeahyeahyeah. i have an extremely foul mouth this evening. it's a bit excessive i know. but i am still stewing over this whole matter. in fact, you could say that i'm RAGING-MOTHERFUCKING-PISSED! it goes to another point of mine about acting like a man and having a pair OR just looking like a man and having a vagina bigger than mine. it's total bullshit. argh.

so here's my challenge to all of you men who pretend to act all manly all of the time...don't go telling people that a 120 lb., 5'3" GIRL assaulted you unless you want to look the biggest pussy on the face of the planet...especially when you're almost a foot taller than her and a good buck heavier.

p.s. okay. that was a bit of a lie in itself. (hey. i try to refrain from being a hypocrite MOST of the time). i really weigh more than that but i figured it's believable so why not tell a little fib. besides i actually have a pussy so i'm entitled to act like one if i want. and anyway. everyone lies about their weight and no one has suffered irreparable harm. bitches!

yeahyeahyeah. anger management. i'm going. NOT. and not EVER.

11 September 2010

They Wonder Why

people wonder why i don't jump on the columbia bandwagon...natives, transplants, and every other breed in between simply can't figure out why i have denounced the tigers. it's not that i really hate the tigers or columbia (well at least most of the time), it's more a matter of my dismay for the people who live in their sheltered little world of columbia, (yes. columbians. there is a whole big bad world outside of columbia and p.s. the shopping is about five-thousand times better). i mean for fuck sake...it's september 11th, and somehow mizzou football has taken priority over local businesses remembering to (in the very least), fly the gotdamn american flag at half-mast. the only thing people are concerned about is fucking college football. and it's for reasons such as these that i feel justified in saying fuck college football and fuck the tigers.

wave your fist at me. swear at me. beat the shit out of me. kill me. whatever. fine. i don't give a flying fuck...i hadn't even heard of mizzou before i moved to this gotdamn forsaken state over three years ago, and quite honestly, it was only after i started dating my ex that i became educated about columbia. so after having lived here for a little over two years and for anyone to think that i'm somehow going to be persuaded to jump on some insignificant bandwagon is completely delusional. there's a better chance of me swallowing drano ON PURPOSE before i don the black and gold.

p.s. i'd like to think i'm a moderately educated individual so i don't think it is entirely shocking that i was oblivious of columbia or mizzou's existence. in fact, i'm more apt to believe that it's completely ignorant of others to believe that everyone on the face of the planet should care or know about either. i mean for fuck sake...there are people here who have never even heard of nordstrom's. WTF.

we all live in our diluted worlds, looking through our rose-colored glasses. fine. we all have our illusions (no matter how false they may be). believe me...i'm the first to admit that i'm probably the most delusional person i know. (although my delusions may be a result of the vodka). but i'm not so naive or ignorant to have somehow forgotten that i live in columbia thirdly, missouri secondly, and the fucking united states first. have we seriously forgotten our patriotism? i mean...my intention is not to sound as if i've planted myself on a soapbox or be argumentative but everyone wanted to jump on the "i hate george w. bush" bandwagon. fine. we're all entitled to our opinions and like i said, our delulsions. what-the-fuck-ever. but as long as we're criticizing people, then i'm going to just ask, what the fuck has obama done for the united states lately? besides fill our stupid little heads with naive visions of grandeur, meanwhile having not done jack shit and making excuses for why everything has progressed so slowly.

don't get me wrong...i don't envy the man at all. in fact, if anything i feel sorry for obama because i'm sure his desire to be the commander in chief was only a result of the false misconceptions he was fed. i'm not a fucking president. (i have never been president of anything, not even some asinine kid's club). besides i don't care about having that extent of responsibility...i pay my rent late, and my electricity has been turned off more than once. in addition, i like booze too much. so i don't aspire to be president of anything EVER, therefore, i can positiviely say that i would never envy anyone in the big seat. but this is why i've said time and time again that sitting in the house or senate does not qualify ANYONE to run a fucking country. (it's also why while in high school as a particicpant of "youth in government" i chose to be a lobbyist, as sleeping on the house or senate floor gets you the stink eye. i much preferred the privacy of the galleria - no one of importance can see you sleeping). in all honesty, it is really just my stupid opinion that if anyone wants to make the attempt of running a country, that perhaps they should take one step at a time...be a fucking mayor or something. governor. whatever. i don't really care. but don't be so stupid to believe that because you particicpated in the passing of various state bills that somehow that qualifies you to run a FUCKING country. geezuseffingcrist.

i drove by the courthouse earlier where a remembrance ceremony was taking place and i shit you not, there was MAYBE twenty-five people there...twenty-five people in a town with a population of one-hundred thousand people. clearly i wasn't there...not that i was aware of it, and even if i had been, i probably still would not have bothered to walk the three blocks to pay my respects. look. i'm not trying to be a hypocrite. i'm the first one to admit i'm an asshole. but at least i remembered what today is and what the date is. and believe me, i can assure you i wasn't rushing off to faurot field or some tailgate party to drink beer at nine in the morning. i have a little bit more couth than that...i wait until at least eleven MOST days.

but what pisses me off is that this is a town that likes to toot its own horn about how progressive it is (don't even get me started about the bullshit politics and how the widening of broadway - a major thoroughfare - is just not an option), and today of all days people were more concerned about college football, bbqs, beer and doritos. yay tigers. (you should hear the lack of enthusiasm in my voice...it is totally void of any enthusiasm). and don't get me wrong! i love bbqs, beer and doritos (i prefer the cool ranch variety), but don't forget that there are thousands of men and women who are still out there giving us the ability to barf up all the hotdodgs, beer and doritos we decide to shove our faces with.

10 September 2010

You Know You're Pathetic When...

you know you're pathetic when the only time you manage or care to put a shirt on is to go outside, and then you whip that shit off the second you re-enter your domain. this has been my friday. i keep thinking i had plans, should have plans, should not have cancelled my plans but mostly i wanted to sit around on my ass all day...surf the web for shit i cannot afford and play poker. good thing i'm not a loser!

and the only reason i put on a shirt when i walked outside was because my half size "a" cup boobies just aren't pretty. not that i'd want anyone to see my boobs even if i had the most perfect breastesses in the world. but alas, i do not live in a nudist colony. besides it's not like it was 90 degrees outside either. and i don't wear a bra when it's not necessary. (and most days i've decided that it's not required). oh and for all of you who are wondering about the half size cup thing...well...once upon a time i experimented and bought one of those hanes bras at target...not quite an "a" but almost. a half size or so they like to call it. i'm pretty sure that's just the nice way of saying that you should wear a training bra for the rest of your life. it's no wonder i look forward to winter and sweatshirts and sweaters and tops that don't actually require me wearing contraptions that lift my pseudo boobies. it's all in the padding baby!

but i digress. my point is that it's friday...i use to revel in the fact that it was friday. now i don't give a fuck. i'm perfectly contented laying around like a slob - like a man - because i'm wearing shorts and nothing else. attractive! I KNOW. but who cares. i mean really. i live by myself...if i want to run around in my undies or NOTHING than i will because i can and i probably don't give a fuck. but it is still friday and i am still pathetic or OLD because i don't care about going out or meeting hot boys who will buy me cheap beer...i care about being internet deprived and doing some catch-up on insanely stupid hollywood news and winning fake money at poker.

it's eight-friggin-thirty and i'm tired. maybe it's lethargy. maybe it's because my life has become so disinteresting that i wasn't able to get my afternoon nap in. and when i say nap, i mean like two hours of sleep (i don't do fifteen or twenty minute naps). to make matters worse, i'll be dragging ass until i decide it's way past my bedtime and then i'll lay there with all these incessant thoughts about life and what i need to do tomorrow and this and that and who-really-fucking-cares, except that i do care because i have found myself in this exhausted state and not being able to sleep. insomnia is a real fucking bitch sometimes. so i'll read some self-help book about gawd only knows what until my eyelids are drooping.

and the mad cycle just keeps on repeating itself.

have i turned on my television today? that's how miserable my life has become. i mean for fuck sake...i can't even remember if i watched television today?! maybe that's just the a.d.d. however, i did watch hulu but again...that's because i no longer have dvr and i was internet starved. plus i'm a total "top chef" whore and i needed to be positive that they didn't tell the dreamy angelo with his sexy and sometimes incomprehensible accent "to please pack your knives and go." gawd love them foreign men and their accents! and they know how to cook?! HEAVEN! almost heaven! this is me singing...and in heaven.

it might also possibly be me needing to get a life. oh well fuck. that's what tomorrow is for.

it also just occurred to me that maybe a nice hot shower would wake me up. that's right folks! i have not showered yet today! do you honestly think i care? that's right. this is me not caring. if i smelled so wretched i would bathe but i don't. plus the weather has been perfectly fabulous and not humid or hot. and anyway. it's not like i have anyone to impress. well...except maybe myself and i already scared the shit outta myself when i looked in the mirror five hours ago. hence me avoiding mirrors. fuck. i'm an adult. i can do what i want or in this case NOT do what i don't want. don't worry. i promise to bathe before i go to bed. i'm not that pathetic. i mean i'm pretty fucking pathetic but i haven't forgotten about hygiene.

Ejected

i did really want to bitch about this earlier and then i got a bad case of the a.d.d.

don't worry it's short.

i was seriously pissed off when they ejected my boyfriend matt holliday out of the game tonight! i was at the bar and when i saw what happened i screamed, DON'T KICK OUT MY BOYFRIEND!

now if that's not a reason to bitch than i don't know what is. dumb umpire. i'll friggin' eject you right out of the stadium! by giving you a good swift kick to the crotch! the JERK. go ahead and ruin one of the only good reasons to watch the cards this season...and p.s. it's NOT albert pujols.

what a bunch of bullshit.

and that's all i have to say about that.

that and matt holliday is fucking HOT.

Closure

ummm...so yeah. that is the question. why does anyone pretend that they need "closure" when what they really need or want is attention? or someone to make them feel justified in their life-changing decisions? or let's just lay the truth out there...to get in your pants one more time? if what anyone really needs or wants is "closure" why don't they just grow a pair, quit beating around the fucking bush, and make the point that they really want to make.

closure? my ass. i'll give you closure. does telling you to fuck off give you enough closure?

okay. so as not to confuse the rest of the world population or the two other people that read my blog, i should premise all of this by saying that i had what i like to call an "emotional" affair with a man - not just once but twice. with the same man. he had a girlfriend. i had a boyfriend. and we carried on inappropriate communications with each other. (hence my love-hate feelings for technology). my point is...i finally cut the whole thing off after my boyfriend discovered our "affair" AND he kicked me out. oh! and this other guy? he still has a girlfriend - the same girlfriend. i'm still single.

his girlfriend (now fiancee) never found out. i guess he was and is much more stealth than i'll ever hope to be. i'm also guessing he's still a dipshit. my point is, is that i cut off ties with this man after my life exploded in my face. i figured enough people had been injured by my transgressions and there was no reason for anyone else to have to also suffer. so i did what was right (for the first time in my life), and called his girlfriend and told her everything. JUST KIDDING! seriously. i'm kidding. not my place. not my business. not my guilt.

anyway. so after choosing to walk away from the whole destructive situation (in an attempt to quit being an asshole like the majority of the world's population), i decided that i can only learn from my past and look forward, which includes shutting that particular door of really bad decisions FOREVER. well several months have now passed since i was told to get the fuck out of my ex's house, (hey. i can't fault a guy for saying the exact same thing i would have...i'm a realist), and when i say several months i mean almost a year.

wouldn't you know that some people's bad habits will always find a way to fruition if given the right amount of attention? yup. now the dumb chap (as in the guy i was having an emotional affair with), wants closure. and my question is, what-ever-the-fuck-for? (i could call the dumb chap an endless abundance of bad words but clearly i didn't think he was that horrible when i was "cheating" on my boyfriend with him so it wouldn't be fair of me to attack him now). but i just want to say, DUDE! haven't you learned your lesson? (clearly NOT because his sins have never been discovered by his significant other). he doesn't want closure. the idiot. he wants to know he isn't settling. well. that's not on me. i can't give him the words of reassurance he's looking for. i can't look back and feel good about what transpired because it inevitably led to me hurting a person that i loved very deeply. i can't change what has happened. and i certainly can't give the jackass the closure he has convinced himself he needs.

by the way, what closure? we were NEVER IN A RELATIONSHIP! get on with your life. i've had to move on with my own life and while it has been a very tough pill to swallow at times...that's just all there is to it.

hindsight IS always 20/20 but there's no reason to look back when there is SO much more to look forward to. i believe if an individual has lived their life in such a manner, then there is no reason to live your life in the "what if's" and "only if's" because every day is a new day to say, this is the first day of the rest of my life.

so i say, what the fuck are you going to do about it?

09 September 2010

The Demise of Myself

it's been a minute since i've had the opportunity to sit down and write something thoughtful to bitch about. not that there have not been plenty of incidents that have sparked a fury in me that would result in a rant that would leave even the most creative and crass of sailors blushing at sea. because while i am here just to bitch i'm also trying to tone it down a notch. yeahfuckingright. who am i kidding?

i do believe that my attempt at ceasing excessive drinking, smoking, and anything else bad for me has made me quite the raving lunatic. WITHDRAWLS! and i'm not even kidding. even my ex-boyfriend who completely despises most of my bad habits, (particularly those which involve inhaling), has decided that me going cold turkey is likely to lead to the downfall of the human race...or at least those who stand in my way, piss me off, unconsciously irritate me, and try my patience to no end. i am not a patient person and as much as i've tried to be...patience is not in me, (much like dipolomacy is not in me). yes. i do realize patience is a virtue. but who the hell said i was virtuous anyway? also, i'm convinced my lack of patience is just one more justifiable reason for not having kids.

my point is...i am convinced that no one could possibly have more contempt for my nicotine fixes than my ex. but recently he was so completely mortified by the effects of the nicotine withdrawls and my bad behavior as a result of it that HE even made an attempt to persuade me to "just go smoke." (also, i had not consumed alcohol in a day and a half...which amounts to an increased risk of me going postal and many people dying). i told him if i could just get a beer or two in me that i'd be fine. i calmed down after my first pint and he thanked a higher power that he does not believe in. and then he also bought me a pack of cigarettes later. see. someone does love me. and they love me better when i'm not pissed off because i haven't had a drink or a smoke in a day and a half. it's called an addiction for a reason!

so i fully understand and realize that drinking and smoking (and loving men), have very negative side effects. but i'm training for a half marathon. yes...while drinking and smoking...although, i do refrain from actively participating in such debaucherous activities while i'm actually running. in the meantime, if i get home from a ten mile run and want to swallow a six-pack of beer, eat a pizza and fire a cancer stick up, well...then i will and i will NOT apologize for it.

p.s. if every other human being wants to brag about being fit and in shape and blahblahblah (tell someone who fucking cares), and admonish me for my bad habits, go right ahead because i'm pretty sure when i was out running on the trail this evening in the rain (with my two running partners), that all the other "rock star" runners and athletes who are overly critical of my self-indulgences were no where to be seen. so i'll keep on running and smoking and drinking and i'll kick your ass while doing so!

oh and one more thing...i'm an a-fucking-dult and i don't need a lecture about my bad habits...i do what i want. the half marathon is in less than a month and i'm so far from being scared that it's almost frightening that i'm not more so. mostly because i know that the day in which i regret having not had more self-restraint in life is inevitable. although, i'm not one to really regret anything. hey. if i'm happy in the moment (and drinking and smoking are conducive to my happiness), well...you can bet the people around me are happy too because this much i know is true - me going through withdrawls makes for a very ugly situation. and i secretly find delight in tormenting others. so let me just express once again (although, i do not profess to be that special or powerful), that if i'm happy, those who must put up with me are very likely to be happy too.