How'm I doin?

So, I was trying to find the right words to describe this boy that I just witnessed at the theatre tonight.  It was exceptionally hard to do because I found him to be amazing in every way.  He was classy, beautiful and the way he moved was like the wind guided him and him alone through life.  My feelings towards him was hard to put into words.  I felt like me trying to explain anything about him would make me sound a bit disrespectful.  I'm gonna try, though.  Okay..."yes I see her, cause errvry girl in her wonna be 'er"  Okay, not bad.  Doing good.  "she's a diva", could be taken harshly but still on the up-and-up.  It's just a rumor that she's low down, I don't believe them, though.  "she's nothin like you've ever seen before",. see?  nice!  "nothin like yo' neighborhood hoe",  little dicey but still compliments...here it comes.  I'm going to try real hard to not be disrespectful now.  "damn girl, you's a sexy bitch, a sexy bitch".  "damn girl"...Hmmm.  I may have gone off track a little.

Today a girl commented on my Eeyore pin at work.  She said she had to give me "mad props" for wearing him on my jacket while working.  I agreed.  I needed some more mad props.  I was almost out of them from the last customer that complimented my bright green tie and blue shirt.  We had a bit of a conversation about my best little friend and she said he happened to be her's as well.  Bonus round: 20 points!  My new best friend.  As her medium Mr. Pibb: Extra filled to the brim with burpy fizz she said something that will forever be intangled around my soul.  "He was the very first Emo kid".  Sigh......Oh, snap girl!  Nope.  Eeryore is not Emo, he is misunderstood.  She responded, "right, like Emo kids".  My teeth clenched and my fists almost popped the lid off her 4 dollar and 25 cent bucket-o-refreshment.  Bitch!  Emo kids are not misunderstood.  Contrary to what you might believe.  Everyone understands Emo kids.  We understand you.  Your misguided angst for all things authority due to your parents not loving you, or giving you the positive reinforcement that every child needs growing up.  The acting out for any attention, negative or positive, to just feel like someone is listening.  We got it.  It's not that serious.  Go dye your hair purple and black and wear tight ass jeans and huge shoes so your father rolls his eyes and questions your sexuallity so you may have that one on one time you are lacking otherwise.  Take your parent's monetary love and spend it on useless things that make you happy for the brief time it takes your parents to hate them.  DO NOT compare your pleasantville lives to my little Eeyore.  Damn girl! 

Have you ever seen a king or beast with quite so little hair?

There are certain things in life that deserve to be awarded more than a swimmer that can lap a pool in under a minute.  The people that change our lives for the better, for instance.  I'm not talking Opera-esque bitches but the true heroes in our lives.  The fireman, police men, the sane postal worker.  Our high school teachers should remain top of the list, especially if they are teaching in the inner-city school districts.  The grocery store cashier that doesn't hate their life and tries to make everyone around them miserable.  Your massage therapist that compliments your figure even though it's not Michael Phelps' par.  The person that holds the door for you and returns the dollar bill that fell from your pocket.  The small town people, heroes, should become center stage in our world.  We need to start appreciating life as it comes at us more.  Give thanks to those around us that truly deserve it.  Your best friend that stuck through your hardest times even though there was no obligation to do so.  These people are our bloodlines.  They are the next step to generation building.  The blocks we set forth to them will make all the difference in the structural integrity of our childrens lives.  We must not let our opportunity to let them know how much we care pass us by. 

Ewa indeed heard you.  Now go.  Fullfill your destiny.  Make nice with the creatures of your space.  Set the example that was set for you by these people.  Take that small step towards betterment.  Avatar will forever live on in our souls.  Make Jake Sulley proud.

Ha!  Oh, Avatar!  So, the first part is definitly true.  I do believe in rewareding our true heroes with praise and something more than gratitude.  But the second, Avatar...come now.  It wasn't that good of a movie people.  Take the Last of the Mohicans, Dances with Wolves, The Burbs, Jurassic Park and Titanic, even The Fast and the Furious for God's sake and blend them all together and you shall birth Avatar.  It's all been done before.  And if the reason you love the movie so much is because of the world that was created it's been done before as well.  Lawn Mowerman.  Watch it. 

I just finished watching Avatar, acually.  I didn't hate the movie.  Just didn't think it deserved such high praise, or cash value.  I think the thing about James Cameron movies is they are simple.  Not so much in the budget, make up or animation department but in the story, characters and message that is created.  They are relatable movies to all people around the world.  Easy to follow and pretty to look at.  Instant money maker.  Dumb down your dialog and ad flashy colors and you have box office success.  Terminator, Titanic, Alien and now Avatar.  All good movies for the same above reasons.    Although Alien was quite good for what it was worth, I do have to admit.  No computer animation in that movie at all.  Including the opening credits.  Screen on screen is how they achieved all of the effects in that film.  It was quite genious, actually.  I shall give him props for that one.  I just made it seem like I hate everything about James Cameron movies.  I don't at all.  I loved Titanic.  I thought his cinematography was amazing in that movie.  The mood was great.  I didn't hate Terminator.  I liked how he made the end of the world so nonchalant.  You felt for just two characters and forgot all about humanity.  Genious!  So when I say these things about Avatar I'm really just playing Devil's advocate.  I can't help it.  I'm sick in the head!

The Land Before Time...suck on that!

OOO-oh say can you....down in front.

My life is a chalk board with an old sock for an eraser.  What ever mistakes I make I may remove from the present existence but holds the slight fragments left behind to reinvent over.  They are never truly erased completely or forgotten, just built upon in a dusty afterbirth which I can only hope makes me stronger.  Is this the best way to recreate life around me?  Should I dip into the water bucket of denial to saturate the sock completely full of forgetfulness.  Should the mistakes we make in life be the helpful ladder we use to climb over the walls or should they be the hinderences left behind and forgotten; a new path to be laid out with no knowledge of the ones before?  Are we truly helping ourselves achieve greatness by looking into our own mistakes and over coming them?  Are we just destined to make the same ones over agian if the reminants are forever creeping back into mind-sight?  Too much History channel tonight, kids!  Phew.

My  mother asked an interesting question earlier tonight.  She asked where the name America actually came from.  This got me thinking about history and our own namesakes.  I had watched the program of America tonight on the History channel.  It was interesting enough to hold my attention for 2 hours, minus the brief tossing and turning from the ice-cream I had eaten earlier.  Makes me squirt, man!  After the initial wipe and stare, I focused back on history and wondered what prompted us to start adopting "americans" as our new heritage.  There was a line from either Thomas Jefferson or John Adams about becoming one nation instead of thirteen colonies in the first meeting of what would now be our democratic government that was "I'm not a Virginian, I'm an American".  Who was it the first coined that name?  And why is it that Brazilians are not calling themselves Americans as well?  They are apart of the Americas after all.  Who gave us the power to take the two major land masses and shrink them down into one nation's nationality?  It was those stubborn militia, God damn it!  Heath Ledger lost his life way before he lost his life in that militia.  Stubborn.  Should have just left the British locking your wife and towns people in the very church you were married in and then subsequently burned alive in go.  Just let it go.  But nooooo.  Now yea dead, DEAD!!  Who-rah!

See, I'm not like my sister, I don't Google shit and actually look for the answers to my questions and then learn and share the knowledge.  I just ponder the question for a bit and make up whatever answer I deem best and most interesting then eat an entire bag of chips.  I aint gots that kinda patience!  So the answer to whom ever started calling ourselves Americans was George Washington in a dream about skiing down the slopes of the yet to be discovered Rocky Mountains.  I believe it went  a little something like this, "damn, it feels good to be a free American!  Oh, wait...nice".  Then he took that shit to the newly opened First National Bank, of America.  Coined!  Just full of puns tonight.  AVAtar!

To every season; turn, turn, turn.

I  had a second glance today.  It's not normal for me to get the attention of good looking men.  At least it's not completely obvious if it does happen.  But today I think I had a moment with this really good looking boy that came into my ass...eh, the movie theatre.  He was a bit early for the 5:20 showing of Clash of the Titans and sat on the bench awaiting the arrival of his friends.  Well, it seemed little mister sexy pants had a bit of a looky-loo problem with yours truly.  Before this whole situation of the eyes came about there was the overly extended reach, grab and hold of the money exchange.  Our hands touched and remained in the touching position for what felt like six days.  I still feel his embrace around my itchy fingers.  After he took the change from my hand he said, and I quote, "perfect".  Now I know I have flawless hand, eye, money counting coordination but I'm thinking he meant the shine off my pearly whites!  Ha.  Slightly hued creams, almost yellows!  That's probably a better fit.  Either way, he made butt love with the bench that faced the box office and occationaly popped his gaze over to mine.  The last time he studied my face with professional ease and then smurked.  His beautiful blue eyes gleamed off the black shine of his hair as he stood up to greet his friend, who by the way was not as stunning but still in the same Galaxy of God Damn!  They left together towards the theatre.  I, starring like the facebook stalker I am, followed the back of his head all the way round the corner; he totally turned to look back...score. 

I was going to end this story on a pessimistic point but decided to refrain from my normal downsizing of my soul.  A friend asked me if I were still self deprecating.  Ouch.  So, I took the high road and ended it with a happy.  The story is completely false but it made for a quick little anecdote.

Another person asked if I were getting mental help.  She totally thought I wasn't okay and completely unstable!  She follows me on Twitter and I always write some crazy shit on there.  It made me laugh.  Now to remedy the situation I write even more off the wall shit on my Twitter account.  Whoopsie!

How many people have you seriously wanted to kill in your lifetime?  Not jokingly laughed about in the breakroom, but actually wanted to spend the next 50 years in a jail cell for murdering?  Even would take the chance with lethal injection over.  Think about that for a minute while I shit a log that would choke a python.  Write some names down, make a list...

Okay.  How did we do?  Have your list set up?  Now look in the mirror you fucking psycho!  That's you, girl.  You may need to get your head examined.

I ran two miles today.  Actual running.  I wanted to die every step of the way which is how I knew I must have been doing something right.  Running is truly a different breed of exercise.  I could get on that stair stepper all day, the olyptical for six hours, but when it comes to street running you might as well get asphalt shoved up your ass and call it rape.  I think the fact that I celebrated 420 before I ran helped out a lot.  Could you imagine what it would have been like running sober...phsssss.  Girl, please.  I aint stuuupit!  Ha.  Kidding about the 420.  I have never smoked a date in my life!  I think the motivation from my expert-runner-sister-man helped out a lot in those last minutes of my internal bleeding.  She has been running for a couple of years now...I think it has been anyway.  She looks damn good and I hate her for it.  I lost almost 90lbs when I moved to NYC two years ago and have since gained 30 of those creepers back.  She has lost half of Lady Gaga since she started running.  The fact that she would stop looking for the other half of the Gaga is disappointing, but she has her tastes confused.  She thinks music comes in the form of boys screaming and guitars forgetting about melody and harmony.  That's not true...her music taste just sucks, plain and Simple Plan!   Kidding!!  But back on track.  She is a great inspiration for all trying to overcome an obsticle or maintain a certain schedule.  I might be motivated enough to join the 5K at the end of May.  Four weeks to get it up to comfortable status in running 101.  Somebody may need to call 911, but that would be a different story.  Wish me luck.

Now on a serious note.  You may actually need to call somebody about those urges you have to murder people.  That shit aint no joke!

I'm starting to fall into the gap again.   I have been working out steady for one week and 5 days.  I hate every moment of it.  I don't like sweating.  I hate moving at all, really.  I hate the fact that the only reason why we are to be scuplted is to have the boom-boom made sex love.  I know, everyone says the same thing, "I do it because I want to get healthy, I do it for myself".  Bitch please!  You do it so you can walk into a room and not have people say, DAMNNN GIRL...you fat!  Or have the whispering remarks behind your back as you sit in the wooden chair that questionably holds you up.  And of course, you do it because society says you have to in order to have that other in your life.  The better health is colateral "damage".  Now granted, yes, there are people in the world that are bigger that find their "true love".  At least they find their settled true love.  And there are the very select few that find their love that actually looks you into the soul and finds the true meaning of your lives together without caring what the shell looks like.  And there are the even fewer that will look themselves in the mirror and truly say "I love you" and jump in the run full stride ahead.  More power, love.  That is a rare factor in this world we call the Dope Show.   But one that is welcomed with open arms.

Men are men, through and through.  Having two in a relationship that is deeper than Top vs Bottom is a wall being climbed by a one armed man.  It is able to be done but it takes a lot of work.  So we must muddle through the sweat and tears in order to be loved for more than our personalities!  Get in that gym and bust one out for the boys over seas.  Stick with the plan of thinking more positively and affecting your life for the better.  The gym is your friend and the bottom is half full!

I don't.

Is anyone truly still blinded by the traditional romances anymore?  Was anyone in the first place? 

The engagement ring:  a symbol of not only your love but of the bond you share with one another and with God.  Should it be something picked out for you?  Should the man truly get down on one knee and propose it to you along with his hand?  If it's going to be worn by you should you not have the say in what it is?  Or do we give all the power over to the one we love?  Should this union not be thoughtfully discussed and mutually decided on before the proposal ever is made? 

The religious tie: If you don't believe in God can you still get married?  Would an atheist be denied the same rights as gay couples are denied?  Would they be afforded the same rights as a straight couple would be in the eyes of the law?  Could they infact get married even though the purpose and meaning is lost?  What holds a marriage together in the first place?  Is it the devotion held onto by the two lovers or the symbolism of the tradition?  What keeps the two coming back year after year?  Is it the cooking, the kids or the fear of being alone in the last years of your life?

True love:  a powerful drug injected into the soul that has the ability to blind its victims.  The side affect of such a drug is quite obvious and rather infectious.  It spreads like the virus it becomes, weaving in and out of people's psychy.  The heart is the first to go.  It weakens with every beat and against all reasoning from the second muscle it infects, the brain, it continues to pump hazardous fumes throughout the body.  The brain so tirelessly tries to send doubt and understanding but the virus takes hold and buries it too.  We become entraped in this cocoon-type haze that will undeniably end our lives as we once knew it and births out a new being in not quite the same proportions.

I do hope that there are the romances in everyone's life still.  What else could possibly be the point?

All the single ladies!

The things we do when alcohol is involved.  Although, I still think there is more to those Los Gallos margaritas than just alcohol.  Fucked up, fo reals, girl!  I'm starting to cut back on the old alcohol intake now that I'm starting to see some results to the sweatin to the oldies I've been doing.  I still feel as though I'm gaining weight.  It's a weird feeling.  I noticed some tone happening to my shoulders and arms, though.  That makes me want to stop eating pizza at 2 in the morning.  Or getting shit faced.  But the last time I drank was Saturday...no, for real!  mmmhmmm.  IMMABE up in the bus, holdin my cheeks tight.  IMMABE stuck at the red light.  Hope this feeling don't last forever.  Ass cheeks be flappin more than ever.  IMMABE shitin my pants, lookin like i got my freak shit on...REMIX!! 

Now for your viewing pleasure...

With a little bit of ah, ah...and a sprinkle of the uh, uh...

The color of snot

So, I'm sick again.  The snot runneth over.  I slept with my fan on for three days in a row and I think that's what did it.  And now that the weather is again changing over to the tropical climate Ohio is known for, it aint helpin none!  Good news is it gives me an excuse to over dose on Day-quill now and not get those judgemental looks when I chug the bottle for, just the high!  Not saying I have ever done that, or have ever done that before a night of drinking to enhance the buzz...that would be irresponsible! 

I totally started working out yesterday!  Whoot!  I ate right and in stages, not all at once like I normally gorge.  The only issue with eating right right off the bat is that you are starving when you get home from work and end up shoveling mounds of anything into your obesse mouth because your instinct takes over.  Damn M&M's.  It's ok, though.  I'm going to run for an hour while bobbing to some ABBA and I shall burn off that 1/3 of a bag.  Too bad I'm then going to the store to buy some mood enhancing calories.  Maybe I'll get the Miller 64, or the Bud 56.  Why not just shit in a blender, as my sister is probably thinking right now.  It's not too bad once you get over the metal hump and shove some chips in your throat.  64 calories!!  Come on!  You could drink the case and still not feel as bad as you would chugging that Monster Margarita from the Los!  I guess it's Labatt Blue tonight.  Holla!

I have decided that I am officially allergic to waking up.  There must be something in my body that says nope, you should not be awake, ever.  It is secreting an enzyme from my pours that is making me break out in an itchy mass of bloody scratching.  I can't handle it anymore.  I either need to get health insurance to see a doctor about it or I need to never wake up again.  Seeing as the insurance is expenssive I shall chose to latter.  So I am off to bed for the rest of my life.  If anyone has any last words for me before I do so, say them now or forever bite your tongues.  If you wake me up I will end your life.

On a happier note.  I am totally Los Gallos-ing it up tonight for Mexican yum-yum!  I will get to the bottom of James' lack of commenting on here once and for all!  I'm not opposed to packing a bunch of C-4 in my ass, flying to Russia with him and then having him bang the shit out of me, literally, on a suicidal subway non-commenting meltdown.  Girl...you've been warned.  I just stole my own line from Facebook.  I feel so cheap.  It was tweeked a little, however!  That will be my night of intruige.  I hope it doesn't rain like it smells like it will out there.  I need to walk up to the Rooster.  Eh, a little moisture never killed anyone.  Oh, maybe I'm allergic to water...shit I need a shower.  I just scratched my head and now I'm ready to fry up some chicken.  Stank is greasy.  Anyway, who wants crabs?

Gosselin...oops. But who really cares?

Just thought I'd clear that up for everyone reading, and by everyone I mean my sister and maybe James, but he hasn't commented in a while so I'm not sure if he's a continued client here!  I still hate that bitch, Kate Gosselin.  That shit won't ever change.

So, I was watching TLC earlier today and they had a marathon on about that creepy mermaid girl.  I have nothing against that poor girl but I do have something against her parents, mother especially since she is the only one left in her little life, that keep her going.  This poor girl must hate everything about her life and because we as Americans feel the need to give life to everything that breathes no matter what the details are, won't just say enough is enough.  I don't want to sound insensitive as I know I am right now, but I know for 100% sure that I would never want to live like that.  I mean, the newest struggle was keeping her colostomy bag from seeping back into her body to cause an infection that would kill her...let it, by God!  I'm sure those tapes were destroyed by now, the ones that were showing the little mermaid girl tampering with her own bag at night when her warden...I mean, mother, was asleep.  The girl doesn't even look happy.  Are we that shallow in our own misguided affections in feeling good with everything going wrong in our lives that we should keep someone alive that is obviously not living, or even happy?  One love, mermaid girl, one love.  I hope all of your dreams come true for you and not your viewer's, or mother's, own satifactions.

Anyway, that was just a side note.  I needed to vent about that poor girl before I got into the real nitty-gritty.  Ok.  Imagine yourself on a fabulous yacht in the middle of the ocean.  The day is a perfect 72 degrees, the sky is officially the most gorgeous shade of blue ever defined in Webster's and the waves are rocking the boat just a hair, enough to even relax the bull in the china shop. The champagne is flowing, the air is crisp, the strawberries are fresh, unless you are allergic to strawberries and then the pistachios are salty.  The wood had just been polished and has that slight orangy smell to it.  The plush interior was decorated by Michael Coors and has a nautical theme but doesn't shout, I'm on a boat, on a boat.  It is the most lavish afternoon you could have ever dreamed...now imagine a little bunny being set on fire and used to rape your little brother.  Nope.  Imagine, though, that you're on that yacht with the person you hate the most.  Everyday you think of new ways for this person to die, you hate them so much.  And you're stuck in the middle of the ocean on such an amazing day with them, only them, noone else.  First: who is it?  Second:  what would be the first thing that would pop out of your mouth?   Really take some time to think about who you are as a person in this scenario.  It will say a lot about you if you could put yourself in this situation and honestly act it out.  Are you the type that would grit your teeth and bare down on the awkward conversation, remain social for your own sanity.  Or would you be a hardcore bitch and throw yourself into a full on dispute?  Maybe you'd squeeze inbetween the two and be civil but remain detached from all contact...think about it.  This is who you are.  Now cuddle up in bed and read a good book or touch yourself to a raunchy porn and piss off!

Peek-a-boo!

I have always wanted to live in two era's; the 1920's and the time that Jesus lived. 

I have wanted to live around Jesus' time due to the fact that I have always wanted to expose him as a hoax, a David Blaine type figure that lusted after attention.  And the 1920's to degrade women.  I'm not sure which one I hold to a higher standered.

I do have to admit that I have thought of Jesus as a man, a good, honest man, that could be looked up to and followed as someone with morals and a nature that anyone could be so lucky to raise a child on, but never really thought he was the "son" of God.  Not sure what I believe in that field.  That Jesus was just a devine human that wasn't devine.  That he could indeed "perform" for a crowd much as a magician would do so now-a-days.  I don't believe that in this time period we are in now that there could even be a Jesus.  Could you imagine if David Blaine or Chris Angel came on the scene as the son of God and not a magician?  If he truly thought, or at least wanted us to believe, that he was the second coming of Christ that we wouldn't immediately hual his ass away to some looney bin somewhere.  According to scripture there is to be a second coming but who's to say we would believe.  Then it goes without saying that who's to say we should have believed the first time?  Too deep.  Let's just talk about abusing women and call it a night.

The 1920's.  An era of true power in the pants.  The way the free world should always be run...one group with all the power making decisions for all the lesser groups whether they like it or not.  For that one group to say what's good for them is good for everyone no matter what the consequence.  What ever happened to those good old days?  What happened to broken ribs under uniformed girdles?  The tea being served hot with lemon even though noone in their right mind drank tea for the taste.  Parasols and flowing gowns.  Bruised cheek bones and white gloves.  Take me back to those days, minus the three piece suits.  That shit gets hot.  But seriously, let's not give up hope on Kate Gosling right now.  She could still take a slap as good as the next one.

So, I'm obviously kidding around.  I hate Kate Gosling and wish she'd drown her kids already so we may see the last of her.  Or maybe have the husband decapitate her children in front of her before popping their little cherries!  Ouch!  I even covered my mouth on that last one.