A well-needed laugh

Warning: Not for use by those that: 1) Don’t like the F word 2) Those offended by super-mild sexual content or anything that might imply, or make you think of sex 3) Those that don’t like Nine Inch Nails 4) Are offended by hands and 4.5) Those that couldn’t handle a sweaty, young William Shatner

 

And for the record? I hate everything.
Okay, pardon that dramatic, not true statement. I love this amazing wine I picked up at Frys that I’m currently killing off by myself (yes, I’m that awesome).
Oh, and steak. I love cow meat.
I love my baby girls.
I love my cat, Megatron, AKA, furry cuddle-slut.
I love my snake.
I love my friends.
I love running. I love weigh lifting.
I love babies.
I love roses. I love the image of love in my head (hence why I’m becoming okay with being single and emotionally detached, as to not soil it).
I love sex.
I love hiking.
I love people that don’t suck.
I love dark chocolate.
I love music. I love peace and quiet.

Everything else can pretty much eat a horses dick. With ketchup.

 

What can’t you throw away?

I can’t seem to throw away this notion that there is inherent good in others, despite how they act and how far they will go to make you believe that they are something that they aren’t.

I can’t seem to throw away the things and people that no longer serve any purpose in my life except to keep me exactly where I am.

I can’t seem to throw away my hope that we, as a species, are evolved, despite being animals with shoes.

I can’t seem to throw away the image burned in my mind of what constitutes a beautiful relationship, despite the outside sources (and my own logic) that contradict such a glorious sight.

I can’t seem to throw away the voice mail on my phone that I listen to from time to time, even though the light in the voice is gone.

I’m just full of garbage.

This is a test

I just downloaded the wordpress app for my phone for shits and giggles (mostly for giggles). I can’t imagine I’ll have something so pertinent to say that ill have to blog it on the go, but you never know. Currently, I am sitting at my desk in front of a perfectly good computer, working on the strain in my neck as I “type” this. Its been an okay morning, though we are busy and I’m freaking starving. Did I bring a lunch? Nope! That’s way too practical and cost effective, and I’m far too cool. Ummm…. Yeah. I got nothing else. Good stuff. Glad we had this talk.

Describe any wardrobe changes you make when you get home from work.

I wear scrubs to work, which makes me feel like I’m wearing professional pajamas. If I go straight into real pajamas after work, I feel unproductive and abnormal, so I usually put on jeans and a t-shirt for thirty minutes until it’s time to get ready for bed. Most nights after work, however, I not only wish I didn’t have to wear anything, but I usually feel this need to take my skin off, too. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and adore what I do, but the human in me gets itchy after twelve-plus hours in a building with cranky, sick, and often rude people with high deductible insurance plans. I thank the Gods regularly for the invention of candle-lit scalding hot showers and dial soap.

The Most Difficult Recipe I’ve Mastered

My recipe for disaster. And chili.

I’m really happy I found my snake

I can’t find my mail key.
It grew little legs and walked away.
Things keep getting lost and sometimes found and rearranged and broken and firewalled and disabled all by themselves lately. I am blaming gnomes that are so invisible, even I can’t see them.

My snake got herself lose in my apartment. She MUST be stronger than I gave her credit for. Or maybe the gnomes wanted to play with her. Little fuckers. I later found her curled up in a pair of my pants. Poor little thing was cold. She also must have been hungry, because she went down my shirt and bit my boob when I put her around my neck to warm her up. Funny, I don’t think my boobs smell like small dead rodents, but what do I know.

Being a typical human sucked into social networking, I informed everyone on my facebook of the snake incident. I was later messaged by a non-reptile friendly family member asking me how I could possible love and care about a cold, slithery, “slimy” creature that won’t love me like a dog or a cat. I replied that it must have something to do with my tendency to develop attachments to cold, emotionless creatures that are indifferent to my presence.  She LOLed. I threw up.

And it was, like, OMG.

Our clinic was doctor-less for almost three hours today because he “forgot” he had to work. I was frowned at by a lot of people because of this.  I have a lot of neat conversations with people when they are frowning at me. It used to bother me, but now I really don’t give a shit, and give a robotic response to their apparent unhappiness. I’ve noticed that this non-reaction sometimes makes people frown harder.

It just dawned on me that I have failed as a girl scout mom. I’m going to bed.

Here’s my theme song.

I need a different latitude.

Ex-lax for your soul?

I am eating cold meat sauce I made last night and drinking an obnoxious glass of wine.

I am also, without a doubt, having a “moment”.

It’s been long over due. I am learning that its bad to hold in feelings and pretend to either a) be happy when you’re not b) act indifferent when you’re not, and c) act like a cold, stone statue, when you most certainly are not.

I don’t know why I do this; as a uterus owner,  it should come naturally for me to be in touch with my emotions and sensitivities and be expressive about them. But I’m not. I almost think I’d be more comfortable ripping ass in front of a hot date than talk about my feeling with someone I know and am comfortable with.

So, I’ll blog it out. Or, at least attempt to. The more I try to get it out, the more constipated my brain becomes. It is, literally, like my mental processes produce nothing but static when confronted with the harsh reality of “how I feel about things and such”.

I can easily say I’m beyond tired. That’s a given. I can easily say that I’m nervous. That’s expected. I can easily say I’m lost. That’s cliche.  But I can’t seem to really reach down and do what I need to do, which is yank out my fucking guts and smear them all over this screen and relieve the pressure on my insides.
Hey, that’s disturbing!

It’ll come out eventually;  it has to whether I want it to or not. I just hope I don’t blow a load in someone’s eye.

Bring it, 2011

New Years Resolushuns

1. Lose all sense of tact and reserve when talking about what’s on my mind
2. Pick up a cost effective bad habit to replace my expensive ones
3. Sever all emotional attachments
4. Write a lot more
5. Quit drunk driving
6. Learn how to juggle
7. Learn how to yodel
8. Learn how to yodel while juggling
9. Install the fear of God in my girls and make them watch videos on delivering babies and meth
10. Go shooting more
11. Get a bigger place for my girls and I to live
12. Get back into Sallie Mae’s good graces so I can go back to school
13. Get roofied in Vegas by a mentally dysfunctional person
14. Get proposed to so I can say “no”
15. Learn German
16. Go on a real vacation aside from the Vegas roofie trip
17. Resolve not to wait until a marked day on the calendar to resolve things in my life that are less than favorable
18. Waste not a moment of my time on that which will deter me from what I’ve set to resolve while my fancy new calendar is on my wall

Empty

Ever love a place so much that you wanted to leave
Ever love someone so much you wanted them gone
Ever love the sound of music so much you crave silence’s song?

Ever summon the nothing
To feel a sense of peace
Ever wish decent into the void to make the blinding light cease?

Well, that sucks. But take comfort in knowing you’re not the only one.

Lesbians, Music and Milk

 

 

I have certain songs/bands that are my “theme of the week”, meaning for whatever reason, I find myself listening to a particular song/band repeatedly for that time span. There’s no reason for this, it’s just one of my “weird things”.
I keep gravitating to Otep this week, especially this song.

 Just seems to fit, for whatever reason.

I like Otep. Despite the fact that she is too cliché activist/lesbian/vegan/political for my taste, she’s pretty neat (on a side note, she’s one of the few women on this planet that my anti-activist, men-loving, meat-eating, politically ignorant self would actually go out of my way to have sex with).

Speaking of fluids and animal products, something awesome:

I was at work, doing my thing yesterday when out of no where, I became immensely dizzy and developed chest pains, followed with a feeling of panic. A “panic attack” as they are referred to. I have had these acute situations happen here and there over the course of my life, and they suck. After a rush of customers, I went into the break room to see if I had any tea, but all I found was a bottle of whole milk that I brought a few days prior and forgotten about. My body reacted in positive favor at the sight of the milk, so I took it as my cue to drink up. After about forty minutes, I felt like a million bucks. Better than before the attack, even.

There’s something to this.

I love animal fat.

I love music.

I love feeling wonderful.

I love ham.

Fin.