My Life as it Turns Out...

fanfuckingtastic. yes. as it turns out...my life can be summed up in a nutshell! the fact of the matter is that i've pretty much been adhd all my life but as i've aged it has become an increasingly apparent issue. this blog by the way...? is a fucking perfect example. i started this a blog exactly one year, one week, and one day ago. that's fucking creepy...because until i just did the math in my head right now (when i looked back at the date of my first bitch post, ((appropriately titled "my first bitch post")), the timing of it all did not occur to me...one year, one week, and one day ago. or maybe i'm fucking stupid and am not your stereotypical asian who's a math genius and will certainly feel like an idiot when i read this later. sober too. just sayin'.

so my point is...i've been fucking adhd ALL MY FUCKING LIFE?! HOLY SHIT!!! that explains everything. and for FUCKSAKE alive! why had this never occured to anyone who is close to me before i turned the age of thirty-two? i mean seriously...i kinda made a joke about it one day and then everyone else starting saying it about me jokingly, and it really made me wonder. hmmm...and guess what? ADHD ALL MY FUCKING LIFE!!! no wonder i'm a piece of shit! i can't fucking finish ANYTHING i start!!! not this blog - in hopes that some fucking day, someone would just come along and offer to turn my blog into a book, and that would lead to at least five other book deals, and then i could just sit on my ass all day (as i've become a frequent author on "the new york review of books"), and not have to give a shit about not finishing anything (while staring at the hot college frat boy cleaning my pool)! i certainly have not finished my college degree - in which i have 99.00 credit hours. yes. and not only 99.00 credit hours have i managed to successfully finish at a snail's pace but i've also been awarded to pay fifty-six thousand dollars in student loans back to the lenders. FUCK ME HARD. mothafucka.

yeah. my "so-called" adhd has also strayed me from accomplishing yet another goal. and don't even get me started on all the home projects i have going on at the moment because my adhd got me distracted in the middle of my first project which resulted in starting a second project, and let me just tell you...i'm now stuck in the middle of project number nine. yes. holyshitballs. no wonder my life is a disaster. hot mess! i'm tellin' ya'. and let's not forget all the other half-attempts i've made in my life that has fucking landed me somewhere between the towns of "shitville" and "fuck me hard"...and as fate would only have it...i'm stranded on a country road with a car that has an empty gas tank...and both my legs are probably broken too...(you know...as fate would only have it. or at least my fate in life).

and that leads me to my original point! i could've accomplished so much more by this point in my life! that has always been my goal! i've always been determined. i just can't finish what i start! and to think...if this all had just been discovered a long fucking time ago. and who do i have to thank for fucking me up?! i don't know. i'm not here to play the blame game...i'm just here to bitch.

Average

i always thought that just being average, or accepting average, or less than average was quite unacceptable. i am a self-proclaimed perfectionist (and, that combined with a case of ADD, OCD, and procrastination does not make for a pretty picture)! actually, what i should really say is that the picture is damn near flawless but the artist that painted it is a HOT MESS, and it only took her fifty years to paint it!

recently, i've found my drive and motivation is quite lacking...not that i don't have my usual and occasional bouts of being completely undetermined. however, historically speaking, i can normally talk myself out of being a loser and kick myself in the ass a few times and get back on the motivation train. but lately? i must admit...that other than doing the absolute minimal to get by...? well...honestly...there isn't much more than that. well, other than my addiction to xbox, free cell, and not giving a shit. and p.s. my addiction to "not giving a shit" involves a whole abundance of other things. but perhaps that whole abundance of other things should be saved for a whole other blog! because quite frankly, i wouldn't even know where to begin.

anyway. my point is, is that i'm critically looking back at my life and all that comes to mind is, WHAT THE FUCK. this is my life? seriously?! like motherfucking seriously. here's the thing...when i was in my twenties, i rationalized my half-attempts at life as being uninspired, irresponsible, and unclear of who i really was and what i really wanted. however, now that i'm progressing towards forty and not fucking thirty, means the fact that i've justified for oh so TOO FUCKING LONG the idea that "i'll have my thirties to make up for my twenties" has backfired fucking royally. especially! because i'm sitting here contemplating the fact that i'm sitting here (between playing hands of poker and typing), looking back at my life and thinking, WTF.

i don't think it's too late to change my course in life. i don't. i just have this mad addiction of saying, oh fucking well! i realize that perhaps i am a bit jaded and cynical when it comes to life...i feel like i've had my parade shit on one too many fucking times. BUT not that we all haven't - right? i get that. i get that shit happens. i get that life happens. i get that shit happens and we call it life. and, i have to say that my resignation at coming to the realization that for some people life just happens to be average...? well...that's not me being complacent, that's me just realizing that there are average people in this world that get along just fucking fine. there are less than average people in this world that have powers that they shouldn't. the world runs on the fact that there are average people in it and running it. okay. fuck.

i mean...who cares that i'm not the fucking president of the united states? who cares that my potential is only semi-wasted? i love all the people out there who are rooting for me and cheering for me and supporting me! i do! i love them! but do those people who are rooting and cheering and supporting me really fucking care if i'm not president or my potential is only semi-wasted? OR do they care that i'm happy?

yeah. so life hasn't necessarily always gone to plan but i'm still enjoying the ride, and most days, although my determination often becomes lost somewhere between doing what i have to do to get by and cocktail hour, well, at least i'm smiling while i'm doing it. okay...i admit that i'm not always smiling. FINE...i'm mostly not smiling. but honestly? i'm not a smiler. however, that doesn't mean i'm not happy and not happy inside. because most days that i'm just enjoying the ride...means that i'm not stressing out and FREAKING out, and not worrying about the five zillion other fucking things that everyone else is.

call it average. call it complacency. i'm quite positive that i really don't give a flying fucking shit.

Throw A Girl A Bone!

since my ex and i parted ways almost a year and a half ago, i've often thought about the baby girl i left behind. and, when i say "baby girl" i mean dazy - my ex-miniature dachshund. well truthfully, she was never really mine in the first place, and quite frankly, after my ex and i first started dating i had visions of tossing her in a garbage bag with a cinder block, driving over the missouri river bridge, and hurling that bitch in.

however, while dazy is undoubtedly an alpha female, she still nevertheless, FINALLY grew out of her puppy stage which i now understand to be the primary reason for her being such a fucking little twat. moreover, we had a "come to jesus" meeting about there only being ONE bitch allowed in the house, and i was most confident that it was ME and not some dog the size of a football that i wanted to, at one point, kick across the yard like i were aiming for a field goal.

after our tumultuous beginning, dazy and i became quite the pair, and i coddled her to no end. even when my ex wanted to kick her across the room like a football, (and she undoubtedly deserved it), i would intervene. she was my baby - my baby girl. and i miss my baby girl.

there was a time when i would go visit dazy, and i'd walk in the door and in my very "baby momma" voice would ask, "where's momma's baby?", and she'd come catapulting out of her bed to jump on me. this was often followed by lots of cuddling and me asking her "did you miss your momma?", while she responded by crying like a little baby. oh my dazy! i never thought i'd love you so much. so much in fact, that i replaced her existence in my life with a stuffed animal replica of her (minus the white paw and patch on her chest, and of course, all the other responsibilities of actually owning a real dog).

recently, it seems i am forbidden to have visitations with dazy, and subsequently, my overwhelming feelings of love and loss for dazy has made me contemplate adopting another mini weiner! but why in the fuck do the cost so much gotdamn money? it seriously pisses me right the fuck off. miniature dachshunds (of the smooth-haired, red-colored variety), range in price from almost three-hundred dollars to six-hundred dollars. is there really that big of a demand for them?! naturally, it doesn't take long most breeders to determine which pups of the litter will be the cutest and consequently, those puppies go the fastest and for the most money.

yes. i have considered adopting a dog from the humane society, and even various shelters throughout the mid-missouri region. apparently, mini dachshunds are a rarity among these rescue facilities. yes. i have considered another breed but i want a dazy baby junior. so i'm saying, THROW A GIRL A BONE! how in the hell and why the fuck do these little monsters cost so much? am i that naive when it comes to dog breeding? i don't know.

what i do know is that it has crossed my mind several times to go dognap dazy. howevere, since i'm already on my ex's shit list, and it'd take him about five whole seconds to figure out where she was, in addition, to not caring to suffer the penalties of such a crime, i will continue to fill the "dazy" void in my life with my little stuffed animal dachshund. oh and p.s. i call her baby too, and was very upset when my "man of the moment" carelessly tossed her on the floor because she was "in the way."

The Simple Things

i feel like a child on christmas eve that is fighting sleep in eager anticipation of what the morning holds. but damn! my eyes have yet to begin to droop, and i'm neither a child nor am i eagerly awaiting anything that morning will bring all too soon. insomnia sucks my ballsack. i know the minute i finally reach my deep sleep mode that my alarm clock will be going off and i'll be hating life. kinda like this morning when my alarm went off at 10:00 and the only thing i could decipher in my hangover haze was that my hair hurt. well that and getting old sucks because i just can't bounce back like i did when i was in my twenties. motherfucker.

i wish life were as simple as when i was a child. mostly because i hate the responsibilities of being an adult (as you all know), and i especially despise the MAJOR responsibilities, for example, having to work and pay my bills. being an adult hasn't cracked up to be what i anticipated. reality has sunk in...it sinks in a little further every day (good thing since i'm 32)! my life is not what i ever thought it'd be at this age, and i have no one to blame but myself. which sucks because i'd love to come up with some stellar excuse for being a capital "L" fucking loser. not that i really think i'm a loser...i'm just about five hundred thousand miles short of my goal(s).

AND apparently, i'm not the only one who can't sleep. my "man of the moment" just called me up and asked me if i was pregos. WTF. yeah. was he not there last night as i was binge drinking vodka and then falling all over myself? yeah. i'm pregnant. and i was really hoping for an alcohol syndrome baby. UMMM...DUH! (he informed me the thought has been weighing on his mind for the last couple of nights). MAYBE he's really trying to tell me that i'm getting fat except that i'm not! i mean for fuck sake! i just fit into my "goal" jeans two weeks ago. if, being pregnant makes you less chubby, then maybe i am pregos. EXCEPT THAT I'M NOT! and IF, being pregnant makes you have vodka and beer cravings, then maybe i'm pregos or MAYBE i'm a lush. the reality of the matter is - is that I'M NOT PREGNANT.

and p.s. what a horrible thing to put on a person. that's like wishing a person who so does NOT want to be pregnant, pregnant! and then bam! that one small curse by some random person, inevitably leads to the "NOT WANT TO BE PREGNANT" person pushing a watermelon out of their vaj nine months later.

and another thing, you have to have SEX to get pregnant. DUH. and no, i'm not proclaiming that i'm a virgin, i'm just saying that babies don't happen without penis in vagina. sex education 101. you learned it here folks!

ahhh...remember when life were as simple as being a kid? and not about hoping that you're NOT going to give birth to one? when the opposite sex didn't matter? and the only thought that entered your mind was that boys were fucking dumb? and you didn't become involved in asinine drunk fights with your significant other because you were eight, and you weren't a wino yet, and you didn't give a shit about having a significant other? REMEMBER WHEN?

i find it strangely hilarious that "the man" was so concerned that i was pregnant that he rang me at 2:30 in the morning. but last night when i was passed out on his bathroom floor because of all the vodka i consumed, he was sleeping soundly until i finally peeled myself off the floor at 5:00 in the morning.

yeah. this is me longing for the simple things in life.

Yeah! Yeah! Fuckin' Yeah.

so 2011 has come and it has gone...well not completely but since i haven't posted a blog lately...i think of 2011 as more of gone than come. and so much for those new year's resolutions. fuck resolutions anyway. for myself, they only last for about five minutes before i say neverfuckingmind.

i have vices! i need something - anything to get me through a new year, and what i normally resign myself to giving up because it's good for me or not good for me, well...let's face it. being bad is so much more fun.

i should write more often and it's not that i don't have a lot to write about, it's just that somehow, lately, i haven't been able to find the words to put on paper. i am not poetic nor do i pretend to be but if all i have to say is fuckmotherfuckerfuckshitgoatsass, then where is the joy or profoundness in that? it is amiss.

not that i don't have plenty to bitch or scream about because i think i do. fuck. i'm female. what don't i have to bitch about? not that i don't love being female. but fuckmotherfuckerfuckshitgoatsass. sometimes life is just not a bowl of fucking cherries. irregardless of the rose-colored glasses we put on to weave our way through life. fuck cherries. and fuck rose-colored glasses. bowls on the other hand? well...it depends what's in the bowls and i hate motherfucking cherries. so i say, give me something memorable...something so memorable that i forget.

welcome to 2011. in fact, my welcoming of 2011 with open arms was a very fucking good one. i laughed, i ate, i drank, i smoked, and gotdamnit! if i didn't welcome with "open arms" a new year because it was probably one of the best new year's that i've had in a very long time.

let's face it, last year was mostly shitty. fucking very shitty. but at least i got through it and welcomed with great anticipation a new year - a new start. but just as i turned the calendar page, fate would only have me wishing for next year ALREADY, and only because the unraveling of 2011 started with a bang and has since slowly begun to go up in smoke. and fuckmotherfuckerfuckshit. it's only fucking january!

so i say...bring on a new month. i'm NOT that cynical. it HAS to get better than this. i know it will. it will! it will! it will! (i'm pretty sure that isn't denial).

and can i just say that i know i'm completely neurotic and incapable of being in a healthy relationship? i am totally selfish. i AM! but can i also say that when the right person comes along that i do my best to consider the other person and factor them into my life? BECAUSE I FUCKING DO.

i guess sometimes i wonder if i'm asking too much of another person. as if asking another person to do what they say they are going to do is too much. or if thinking that a person promising you this or that or the whatever is not some pipe dream. i don't care much for words. i want actions. you don't have to promise me you'll save the the world and this and that and a bunch of fucking bullshit that i don't care about. but when you do say you are going to do something, well...then just fucking do it and don't be all sissified and pussified about it. show me that you care by demonstrating that actions do speak louder than words. because you can make me all the promises in the world but when everything is said and done, if you can't deliver...? well then, you're just a fucking salesman in a suit.

and p.s. the tie and socks i picked out and bought you?? well...they cost way more than your suit. so don't talk to me about having great taste or compromising because this competition you think you're in is NO FUCKING CONTEST. i win. i always fucking win.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!