Tuesday, April 29, 2008
On a side note, can you believe my girlfriend just said that I wasn't a good reality TV whore?! I'm like...who you talkin' to? Seriously?! What because I have never heard of some show called Hells Kitchen? Whatever. I mean, I was FAITHFUL to A Shot at Love with Tila Tequilla...FAITHFUL to America's Next Top Model...FAITHFUL to the Biggest Loser...FAITHFUL to The Pussycat Dolls...FAITHFUL!!!! Need I say more?
Thursday, April 24, 2008
- Sometimes I smoke a cigarette when I am stressed.
- Sometimes I smoke a clove when I feel the need to smoke something else.
- Sometimes I smoke something else.
- Every morning when I get out of the shower I blow dry my hoo-hoo. This is something that I suggest everyone try.
- When I was 8, I accidentally cut my brother's lip (he was 2) when I jerked a toy saxophone away from him. I hid with him in the basement, until he stopped crying so I wouldn't wake up my mom.
- I don't always brush my teeth, and I never wash my face before bed.
- In 9th grade I cheated on Dave DeBoard with Jerry Faber. Yes...we kissed, but it was way sloppy and gross.
- Speaking of 9th grade, Justin "Somebody" felt me up in the hallway before school.
- I cuss like an ex- sailor who was just made someones prison-bitch.
- Occasionally I watch straight porn.
- Occasionally I watch girl on girl porn. It is still straight porn. I don't know a single lesbian who eats pussy like that or fucks while wearing 3 inch fire-engine-red Lee Press On nails.
- I snuck a McDonald's cheeseburger everyday during the last 6 months that I was a vegetarian. Except for that week when Wendy's had the Carolina Classic ( I couldn't resist the chilli and cole-slaw that was slathered on top).
- I identify as a Christian, but I don't know what I believe anymore. I am too afraid of burning in hell to not believe in anything.
- I cheated on a math test my senior year of High School.
- Once, when my mother wouldn't get out of bed, I threw a lamp at her. Well actually at the wall over her head. She didn't move.
- In middle school I found weed in my dad's pocket. I hid it in the house and watched him frantically search for it the next morning.
- I used to go through my dad's pockets.
- and my mom's purse.
- I blog when I should be working.
- Twice I snuck my high-school boyfriend in my room while my parents were downstairs.
- I will use anything as a toothpick. The corner of a TV Guide works best.
- In college, I once ate 2 McDonalds value meals then went home and had dinner so no one would know.
- I only wear 3 pairs of jeans because I refuse to buy another pair in my current size. I wash them once a week.
- I worry that bad things will happen when an odd number is involved; thus, this is number twenty-four. Just to be safe.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
1. When you write hate-blogs about yourself, people who care about you ARE GOING TO RESPOND.
2. When they do respond, it is because they care. You need to accept their love and support instead of being a total fuck-head about it. (Sorry to those of you to whom I was a total fuck-head.)
3. Sometimes people surprise you. Even the seemingly emotionally unavailable ones have feelings too. You should always be aware of that before telling them to , "Fuck off, ass!"
4. I am scared shitless that I will turn out just like my mother. I project this fear onto others and assume they have this same worry. Many of them do not.
5. Finally, and probably my most important take-away for the day, you CAN get a spicy chicken fillet on the Chicken Club at Wendy's. Delicious!
1. anyone actually reads this and
2. should someone read this they actually find it funny.
So, it's been coming on for a while now. I've been fighting it like a scene from Fight Club where Ed Norton kicks his own ass, but here it is. I wake up this morning, and its fucking ugly face is staring right at me. What in the hell is wrong with me? I mean, MA likes to point out on a pretty consistent basis that it is a beautiful day, I have a good job, friends who care about me, a fantastic girlfriend, etc... so what in the hell do I have to be depressed about. I ask myself this now. Honestly there are times when I don't have an answer, and even now I don't fully understand it but I do know that something was triggered the day I heard about my mom. I can't seem to get myself to deal w/ whatever emotion that has set off inside of me. Even now as I am typing this I am getting tight in my chest, fighting the tears, telling myself to suck it up and get over it. It is what it is. I hate that I say that now..."It is what it is." What in the fuck does that even mean? It's a little phrase I picked up from my time w/ Brooke. In some ways, it makes sense to me...you know, stop trying to change the unchangeable. Focus on what you can control. I seem to use it as a way of avoiding. Whatever, I am not making any sense today. I feel so totally outside of myself right now. My whole body feels tight and numb at the same time. I am on the edge of tears, yet they refuse to fall. There is a weight on my chest like a stack of bricks that is getting heavier by the second. I am anxious. I am tired. I am lonely, but I want no one around me. I hate myself for this. Hate myself. How am I supposed to be a good girlfriend, a good friend, a good person, a good employee, good to anyone when the thought of moving from this bed seems like too much for today. Just totally too much. Maybe if I sleep a little longer I will wake up feeling refreshed...or...maybe I won't wake up at all. I refuse to be like my mother and sleep to avoid it. She has been sleeping for 20 years and clearly that is not working for her. I look in the mirror and don't recognize the person I see. It is hard to even look at this person. It's not me. I hate the girl in the mirror. She is pathetic and fat and miserable and ugly and undeserving of anything good in the world. Normally this is a secret I keep. I hold it..hide it. The thought of posting this is terrifying to me. What will people think? I'm sure that many of you see this as a cry for attention. I assure you that it is not. I actually feel nothing but shame for the way I am in this moment. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want you to ask me about it. Somehow I am hoping that by putting this shit out there, that I will release myself from it. Relieve myself of some of the pain and shame. My fear is that certain people will read this and realize how pathetic and fucked up I truly am, and they will disappear. I am too much to handle. I can't even handle me right now. My Effexor has been doubled and a lovely side of Xanax has been added. This is not working. I am still FUCKING SAD and STRESSED...and maybe a little sleepier. Awesome. Just T-Totally fucking awesome. Finally, let me end by saying that if you read this and it causes you to worry about me, please don't. Please don't worry, the thought of causing someone else stress, sadness, anxiety, any negative feeling at all is almost too much for me to take. This too will pass. I promise.
Monday, April 21, 2008
1. The worst menstrual cramps I believe I have ever had in my entire life. Fuckin' Eve.
2. LACTOSE INTOLERANCE. Somehow, I thought that drinking a very small glass of 2% milk before bed would be a fantastic follow-up to the glass of wine and chocolate cake I had just before.
Time-out...what is it with me and drinking alongside a delicious baked good? I think this is something for Robert in Friday's therapy session.
So point being, I am pretty sure that I am dying or there is getting ready to be a recreation of that scene in Space Balls when that disgusting thing bursts out of that guys stomach, and someone screams, "Water my ass. Get this guy some pepto-bismol!" Ohhh...wonder if I can find that on YouTube.
So needless to say, I end up in the bathroom, pants around my ankles, in the dark, drinking Alka Seltzer, wild hair, mostly out of it from the Ambien I took, and praying that God will just kill me now. So then my mind starts turning, I find that I do some of my best thinking on the toilet...OK, maybe not best, but definitely interesting. The random chain of thoughts went something like this:
So...yep. At this point it is 6:00. I wrap things up, wash my hands, grab the heating pad, get back in bed, pass out, and oversleep for work. My first day back in a week. AWESOME!
I'm just happy that I managed to begin planning my wedding (and future children) to a girl I have been dating for two weeks as of today from the seat of a toilet. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABY! XOXOXO
Friday, April 18, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Then came the TRAMP STAMP!
Good lord people, this tattoo is a cross between satan's axe and something you might find on a 65 year-old stone butch named Bertha in cell block 8. I am not even exaggerating here. Can we just ask ourselves, what in the fuck was I thinking?! This thing gives new meaning to words like DYKALICIOUS and GAYTASTIC. So yeah...I have decided the time has come to cover that shit. I went for a consult yesterday w/ Patrick @ Bombshell. So here's the deal...I'm pretty sure that I am going to go balls out and get the full back piece that I have always wanted. The problem with this is that it is an estimated 10 hours worth of work. I don't even have the patience to take a poop let alone sit for 10 hours worth of tattooing. Now, I'm not totally stupid...I recognize that this will take place over multiple sessions but still DAMN! The sketch should be done Tuesday, so we will see.
Monday, April 14, 2008
So I woke up this morning feeling so amazing after a long night of sleep thanks to my dear friend, and a friend of many insomniacs everywhere, Ambien. Hell to the ya...I took a whole one somewhere around 9, and I slept until 9. NICE. I rolled over to give Emily a gentle kiss on her sweet-little head and remembered that she was not there. No...I haven't driven her away yet, she just slept at her house last night. I think I must have been dreaming about her. Anyway, this leaves me w/ a small feeling of sadness, but then I hear that the phone is vibrating and I cheer up because I know my lovely girl has left me a message this morning.
I pick it up and my phone informs me that I have one missed call, one voicemail, and one text. The text is Emily, so I decide I will look at that last because I knew it would leave me feeling happy and girly. The missed call was from Aunt Trish. My stomach dropped so hard I cannot even explain the feeling. Why you ask, well because she never calls me unless it is to give me bad news of illness or death. My head is spinning, who is sick, who is hurt...who died?! I summarize this into the following potential outcomes: 1. My papaw has died. 2. My mother has died. or 3. Something is really wrong w/ my brother.
Oh, and as far as the Lovely Emily's text...it read, "Hey beautiful girl. How'd you sleep?" I'm totally falling in love with this girl.
Until Next Time-
Friday, April 11, 2008
Oh, yeah...did I mention my pimp put me up in the hotel so I wouldn't have to be on the ho-stroll all night? It's great, the Johns just send me a text and I'm all like, "What up" and that's that. Wham Bam, that will be $750 please. Actually, no, that's not true. I'm here for a 3 day work conference where I need to be on my game and ready to train my team so they can go out and impact student achievement. The question remains...how in the hell am I supposed to do that when the students are in the god-forsaken suite next to me bitching about PB&Js and their helicopter parents are laughing so f-ing loud, and I can't finish my f-ing wet dream. SHIT PEOPLE!
Oh...I hope everyone has a great day :)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
So here's the deal...I'm sitting w/ a group of folks who shall remain anonymous, so for our purposes today we will call them LaFonda, Matilda, Irma, Pie Head, The Intern, and Boss Lady. Anyways, we are eating Jimmy Johns (which, side note, is a total FATGASM) in the conference room when I turn to LaFonda and quietly mention that I am meeting "The Girl's" parents on Sunday. This is what they call her as if I have a harem of women and they just can't keep the name straight. Anyway, usually I find this funny, but today I seem to be feeling a little "sensi". The conversation went a little something like this:
LaFonda: "Wait..hold on. What..tell me you are joking?!"
Me: "No, I'm serious...what?"
LaFonda: "You can't do that. You two just met, and you know how you are."
Me: "How am I exactly?"
LaFonda: "Boss Lady what do you think about this? She emailed w/ this girl for about a month, they met on Sunday, and now they are dating or something and she wants to meet the parents."
Boss Lady: "Oh...yeah...no...don't want to do that."
Me: "What's the big deal? I don't fucking get this issue here."
Boss Lady: "The next thing you know you are going to be talking about living together and then you'll really be in a mess."
Me: "I'm not going to do that!"
Pie Head: "She's done it before."
Me: "Pie Head...come on! I learned my lesson, that is not going to happen."
Matilda: "What's she talking about? Sparkly Queen...what in the hell are you talking about now?"
LaFonda: "She's talking about meeting The Girl's parents."
Matilda: "Oh HELL NO!"
Me: "Damn LaFonda, why do you have to put my shit out there?!"
Pause for argument that ensues over putting my shit out there.
Me: "So what is the appropriate timeline for meeting someones parents?"
LaFonda: "There is no perfect time, that's not what I am saying."
Me: "So then why not Sunday?"
LaFonda: "You don't know that this is going anywhere."
Me: "Whatever...I'm done talking about this."
1. I'm super pissed that LaFonda can't keep a conversation between the two of us or express her concern in a less condescending and attacking sort of way.
2. I just really don't feel like this is their business or understand why they feel so strongly about it.
With that said, I am left with the following...I am sure that this comes from a place of concern for my happiness and the well-being of my heart. I have on occasion fallen pretty hard for people and pretty fast. I must say though, never this hard or this fast (hahaha I said hard and fast.) I suppose it is true that I don't know her fully yet, but isn't this part of it? Aren't they part of who she is? Isn't this part of getting to know her?
At the end of the day, I am going to do what makes me happy...and she makes me so happy. That's all that matters as far as I'm concerned. Oh...and they are really going to shit when they discover that "The Girl" is actually "The Girlfriend." Yeah...I know GBFF, you were right. I owe you a beer.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
It has recently been brought to my attention that the pussy below was incorrectly identified as Monster, when in fact it was actually Otho. I sincerely apologize for any embarrassment this may have caused Monster's family. Please note that the correction has been made.
All my best-
The Sparkly Queen
Monday, April 7, 2008
So what did I do you ask?
Closed that shit...made some mint tea...and had a handful of M&Ms....DUH!
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Ok, well not really a "secret" so much as this amazing person who I have yet to meet, and maybe not so much a "lover", rather a literal pussy eating champ (poor Otho).
Honesty...this is a relationship / friendship / virtualship (whatever kind of -ship this is) built on honesty, which is quite honestly nice for a change. I can't help but wonder if we will end up back to back, laptops in hand, typing frantically because it is the only way we know how to communicate with each other. God...I'm so dramatic this evening. I'm not sure where this drama is coming from, oh...yep...I'm a big ol' lezy...that explains so much.
To my Lovely VW - Never send me your dirty pussy eating pics if you don't want them to end up being sold on the net like, One Night in Paris.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
- How did her parents or teachers not notice that she was pregnant? I mean, I know Bette didn't notice that Tina was knocked up (get real Ilene). I mean, come on people, we're constantly looking for the next "baby bump" in OK magazine, but a 14 year-old pregnant girl waddling around a middle school we don't notice.
- Did she not have a single friend who was like, "Hmmm...she's prolly' going to pop that baby out sometime soon...wonder what she's gonna do...maybe I should tell somebody."
- You know that had to hurt like a bitch...did they not hear her in the f-ing school bathroom?
- Regardless of how young or scared she was, how could she possibly think that flushing an infant was a good idea?
This makes my heart hurt people. Truly it does.
In happier news, I read on Dooce that a baby kangaroo was saved by a dog. At least something is right with world.