Day Time TV Drama-I've been had Y'all

I am a mother. Congratulations to me.
I am stuck at home and and have become a victim of daytime television! My son isn't much of a conversationalist... yet. We are reading the Dark Tower series and he is inadvertantly helping me with a social experiment for my cultural anthropology class.
Mother hood has taken its toll on me already. I said from the very beginning that I was not built for pregnancy. I didn't lie. Infections took their toll after the c-section and I am STILL taking the fucking antibiotics. Gross. One of them makes my mouth taste like pennies. That makes me not want to eat. So the only good thing coming from this is that I am quickly shrinking down to my old size. Though I would not recommend this as an alternative to a healthy diet... but it's one quick way to shed those extra pounds.
Let's see... what else. Oh yes. I can't have sex. I can't imagine why I would want to now that I know what comes as a result from those "unions" but god do I want to get laid. It's almost too much to bear. Honestly. You know how people tell you " You never know what you have until it's gone..."
Well, I have to make it to six weeks and I have to be able to give a clean blood test before I can engage in any kind of sexual activity. Isn't that insane? It will never end. Never never never.

Del sobre el flujo del corazón la boca habla

“I have always been curious about the way you would love.”

I don’t know if this is something I should be worried about.
The double standard here is my fault. If something else would have fallen in my lap, the temptation to take advantage of it would have been too much for me to resist.
But I am here now. I haven’t had much time to meander away from the high expectations I have set for myself.
I am knocked up. What other shenanigans could I get myself into?
But I haven’t strayed. I have managed to maintain my composure and I don’t know what is compelling me to remind you to do the same.
I am not one of those girls. I am not the type to always remind you of what a catch I am because honestly…I am not really that much of a catch.
I am not going to worry and obsess over things that are out of my control.
That’s a lie. I will obsess, but at least I am smart enough to know that the little things that I can obsess over are not important. I let so much slide.
I want to tell you that I am threatened by her appearance. I want you to know that I find it awfully convenient that she just happened to get back into town and you didn’t tell me that until now. Convenient for you I chose not to attend this “social gathering” and you sounded almost pleased to heat me decline the invitation.
I am turning the other cheek and I will ignore the fact that you will be alone with her tonight.
I am going to turn a deaf ear to the voices in my head that are creating the nastiest of suspicions.
I am not going to fall asleep to the thoughts of you bringing this someone into my house.
I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and hope that you’re not that stupid.

Ted Bundy stole MY underwear!

“I had a little turtle, his name was Tiny Tim, I put him in the bath tub to see if he could swim. He drank up all the water, he ate up all the soap….”
And then there is a pause. This could potentially be something very insulting to some people. Everyone has to watch what they say. Don’t preach about what you practice and keep your quirks behind closed doors because there is nothing in this country that couldn’t be considered taboo.

Smother me in chicken fat and fuck me like a stranger with a blind fold on. I wonder how many people would get turned on by that select phrase. Separate the words and you could have a wide variety of taboo phrases.

Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me with a blindfold. Fuck chicken. Fuck chicken strangers. Fuck blindfolded chickens. Fuck fat blindfolded chicken. Smother chickens and fuck me.

But don’t get hard, don’t put your hands down your pants. Don’t have a wet dream or if you do, for god’s sake don’t tell anyone at school or at work. Your sexuality is something to be ashamed of. Sexual deviancy knows no boundaries.
I am a sexual deviant because I like to have sex with women. You are a sexual deviant because you like to be smothered in hot chicken fat a fucked like a stranger. That is not normal. You have thus become a deviant. You have deviated from social standards and made someone with a fucking PHD uncomfortable. How textbook of you.

“And then I cut his little head off and shoved it down his throat.”

But don’t forget to wear sunscreen and always brush your teeth. Give to the homeless and attend church every Sunday, or Saturday after 5PM….Wednesday for all those who need special attention and every other Thursday just to make sure that repentance can work around your schedule.

The Happy Event, Buy one Get one Free Crutches

You’re breaking my heart.

Ladies. LADIES. I can expect this type of behavior from men. But I was astonished to see this coming from women. I’m talking Craigslist. I’m talking, personal ads. And I want to know what the FUCK is up. Where id your pride? Your self respect?

When I’m down, or a little blue…. When I feel like shit and have very little motivation to get out of bed in the morning, I find it very therapeutic to look on Craigslist at the personal ads. They give me a tiny sense of satisfaction in knowing that though my life may suck pretty bad at that given moment, I am not posting my personal information on the fucking internet with a picture of my tits hanging out of a horrendously cheap and ugly imitation of really horrendously ugly designer clothing. “Light up my heart with your love.” Just one of many tag lines that you might see on this website. Or how about “Foxy University Student!” Seriously? So I take it “Desperate and mildly educated…” just wasn’t working for ya. That sucks. I really liked; “Honesty and Communication” as one of the tag lines. HA AHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH! Oh my god. Like any man is going to read that and think “Wow, the girl of my dreams. Honest communication! My heart is yours.” Right, because that happens so often, am I right? Has it occurred to any of you that maybe the reason that you can’t find a man is because you’re a creepy fucking recluse that is addicted to the internet? I have an idea. Maybe you should try socializing with real people. Maybe you could go to the Zoo, or the grocery store…..7/11, a damned gas station! Get off your ass and out of your house and try speaking to someone face to face. It’s that easy. I know that my romantic entanglements haven’t exactly been 100% successful, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. And as for the girls….and I am using the term GIRLS, here because less than a year ago you began to sprout tits and realized that not every time someone used the term “Bush” they were referring to our president. GIRLS Im lookin 4 my one and only true love! - 18 (R-Vada) You’re eighteen. You’re looking for “true love” and you can’t spell. Sweetheart, you are shit out of luck.

I began writing the above commentary before I found out that I was sick. And by sick I mean knocked up and by knocked up I mean puking. And by puking I mean sick. So it all adds up in the end. Yes, I am having a baby. I don’t mean right now, at this moment. But I will have acquired a child come the first week of November through the birthing process. This is not a wonderful experience. Random people on the street feel entitled to come up to me and rub my stomach like I am a fucking Buddha statue or something. Women keep asking me “Isn’t it the most wonderful thing?” I want to stab them in the face with my churro….but I don’t want to waste a perfectly good churro. No it isn’t wonderful. Heartburn, cramps, back pain, chronic fatigue, lack of boos, no libido…. I could go on but I don’t want to ruin it for everyone else. I know, crazy huh? Women actually go through this willingly? Yah. I am working on the enthusiasm part and I believe that any day now things will become easier and I won’t even notice until the damned thing pops out.

The G-String Diva and String Cheese up my Ass.

"You're attractive when your clothed. You're a beautiful woman. But when you're naked it's something else. It wakes something up inside of me, something primal. And I am in awe of your beauty. Like I have never been in the presence of something so perfect. And it makes me feel like a smaller person, like I have been let in on a secret that few, if any, have ever been privileged to know."

Pull me out, and put me down. Help me down from this pedestal and listen to me, if only for a moment. There are few things in this world that can be considered "perfect". That is to say that...beauty and perfection is in the eye of the beholder. Then look at me and see the imperfections and the flaws, the tiny cracks and pieces that are being held together by crazy glue, the blemishes and the wrinkles. Free me from that stereotype and look at me. I am no different, and nothing to bewilder. Look at me. See me. Because I see you and I can honestly say that I know you are far from perfect. Find the ability to afford me the same courtesy.

I realized something about myself today. I am stark raving mad. . .
No, not really. But as each day passes I learn something new about the person that I am, and that gives me a glimpse at the person that I will become. The two conflict with each other. I often imagine the two conflicting sides of my personality as two old, British men, arguing in my head. There could be more. I'm not sure.

You conflict with my instincts of self preservation.

Like a child, feeding off of emotions and surroundings, taking in, absorbing everything around you. I am a teacher. I am letting you feed off of my abilities to be unattached and alone. You can see it in me. And like every other animal, I know you can smell the fear. It drives you to perfection. The idea of me leaving, disappearing without a word. Leaving nothing behind but a scent or a memory. Because I could, you know I could. Fear holds me to you. I don't believe you are ready to be left on your own. No, not ready yet. But I will leave you one day, and I want you to be prepared. Be prepared for the heartache. You don't realize it now, but the human heart is the most amazing and complex part of the human body. It drives you, motivates you, gives you life, hurts you, and it is beautiful...even when you think it's breaking. Something you might want to be prepare yourself for.
I am itching for a change. Change in scenery, situation, color...anything. It's time. I need to feel like something I do matters. If I had the ability to sprout horns and walk on all fours like a beast, I would, simply to feel somethig different. But I can't...or I could, but honestly it's not the kind of change I am looking for.
And what happens when the passion dies? Where did the feeling go? People get stuck in dead end careers and marriages and mortgages, minivans, property taxes, life insurance, arguments, debt, secrets, corporate politics, seperation, mediation, divorce. So where did the ambition go? Be a writer, be an artist, a scientist, an atronaut, a dolphin tamer. . . I mean, why the fuck not? Become a recluse and live only with the company of characters in your books. When did it get so complicated? Let yourself go, and do what makes you happy. I could be saying that because I'm young, and have not yet gotten accustomed to the ways...of life. But if that is the case, then fuck the "ways of the world". Ha ha ha... "I don't much like bills either. I don't think I'm going to pay them." I don't like bills. Everyone walks around like pompous little pieces of shit, thinking that the world owes them something. The thirteen year old girl that is just one g-string away from her future career path....asking me for a cigarette, with all the attitude and arrogance of someone twice her age. I owe her a smoke because daddy beat her, or mommy didn't hug her enough. And should I deny her he luxury of my hard earned tobacco, she will roll her eyes all the way to the back of her head, making me think that any moment they might just slip all the way back and she'll choke on them. Let it go. You think you are having a hard time? You think that life has been unfair? You're probably right, and I wish I could tell you that it's going to get better. It might not, and that doesn't sound like very good advice. Here's some. Take a number, and step in line. Trust me, you might not have it that bad. No one is saying that life didn't hand you a raw deal, but you can either deal with it and move the fuck on. Or wallow in that disgustingly shallow pool of self pity and watch life pass you by. Because, despite what you think you know, I don't owe you shit.
If I had known what path would have brought me here, I certainly would have walked away by now.
Man the fuck up, pull your god damned pants up and quit walking around here like you won these streets, and get a fucking job. Please, make yourself useful, because if you don't you are a waste of breath. Kids today...really.
Valium and vicodin...home made cocktails of pharmaceuticals, the perfect way to quiet an unquiet mind.
God, don't turn into your mother.
Is that what you think I'm doing? I can't sleep when all I hear is my own voice yelling in my head.
Don't quiet it.
I can't hear myself breathe.
Then breathe harder.
"With my feet upon the ground, I lose myself between the sounds, and open wide to suck it in I feel it move across my skin..."
Stop. Breathe. Breathe harder, let in in.

FREAKS! The story of the love ife of the sideshow.

Fate is a bitch, and I believe that if it could take on human form it would resemble my mother.
My intuition is a little rusty, and it shames me to say that I was shocked that Aunt Flow came to visit this week. Life, it seems, has a better sense of humor than I do.
I am empty.
That's a good thing. And I have yet to cease being amazed at the situations in which I find myself. I am without regret.
I know you hate your job. That is why they...the elusive and ever mysterious THEY, have to pay you to do it. I love you more when you are employed. I love you today in spite of your whining. Things will get better, I promise. Good things come to those who wait and if they don't...wait some more. There is nowhere to go but up once you have hit rock bottom. And baby, speaking from experience, you are a long way from rock bottom. Enjoy the time you have now, you...we are young and by default will get the short end of the stick. This horrible situation you find yourself in now may just be the catalyst you have been looking for. Life is what you make of it...so perhaps life isnt what you are dissatisfied with. Something to ponder.

To new friends, with old hearts...oh I am glad to have met you. I am feeling nostalgic and euphoric. I blame that on the drugs. Vicodin has spurred this momentary infatuation with sharing my feelings. Don't get use to it. I have a reputation to protect MANG, JU KNOW?
Ruth, you are great. I know you have heard that before, but still. You have inspired me. My muse..Ruth. Ah! It's a good feeling, to know that you have friends that share the same passions and convictions. You never bore me.
Corbin? I am really proud of you. Sometimes, when I feel like my plate might be a bit too full, I look at yours and feel like crap because I know I could easiy take on a second helping. Good for you. Hang in there. One day you're going to be a wealthy genius...don't forget the little people.
(literally)

And my ego deserves some kudos too. And here you honestly thought you had lost your sex appeal. Silly ego. Women don't lose their sex appeal. I didn't lose it. It's not like I woke up one day and said "Whoops! Where did my sex appeal go". I just don't use it like I use to. I have safely stored it away in a box under my bed. I'll take it out again someday when I feel the need to to. As o right now I just don't give a shit, and that is a very empowering feeling. I can feel vitality flowing through my veins. I have not changed, just my scenery. Everyone needs a change of scenery. I like what I see. It has all been laid out before me and the only thing I have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride. That shouldn't be too hard, it's been a hell of a ride so far.

Ugly Kid Joe and the mindless Ramblings of the Girl who CAN'T sleep...

AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! This idiot who lives upstairs....Jack Sprat and his spouse, The fat bitch who could eat no lean. I don't watch TV. I have a TV, I don't have cable, so when the TV comes on in my apartment...it's usually a movie. I don't mind if other people watch TV. I don't care if you want to indulge in mindless entertainment....DO NOT DO IT AT 2 AM AND WAKE ME THE FUCK UP. I hate Jack and his ugly girlfriend. He is a very unattractive man...she isn't much better. He is unattractive physically yes...but I could tell just by looking at him that he is a jack ass. He is short and round, hair spiked, chops strategically groomed...tattoos of ridiculous shit covering his arms. He is trying so hard. His girlfriend is just a bitch, and I hate her b/c she lives with him and they are both loud and obnoxious. And as they sit on the pompous, overgrown asses and watch TV...I am forced to sleep on the couch with my ipod blasting into my head to avoid the noise of the bullshit they are watching above me. I hate them. And hate is an exhausting emotion. I hate George Bush, I hate cauliflower, small dogs, my brother's grandma, peanuts, carpet, PORN, dresses, flat tires and bad music. I hate all of those things in moderation, but they do not compare to the deep seeded, loathsome feeling I have for the morons living above me. I have been conspiring to kill them all night...in very painful and time consuming ways. I hate them so much, I am grinding my teeth. I hate grinding my teeth. It is now almost 3AM, and I am on my computer bitching about my neighbors, who by now have been asleep for quite some time now. Here is the strongly worded letter I have decided to write them. It will be nailed to their door by morning.
Dear Jack Sprat and Jack's annoying counterpart:
I have never fully understood the phrase "Silence is golden". If silence was golden, then everyone would treasure it. I don't treasure silence. I do, however, treasure sleep, when I can find it. Sometimes I can go days without sleep of my own doing...but last night I couldn't sleep...
AND IT WAS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT. I don't care if you watch TV 24/7, I don't care if you wanna have sex like howler monkeys, play techno all night, have lobster races in your fucking living room. DO IT IN SILENCE. If you wanna sit around all day with your fat little thumb up your ass, so be it. But I should warn you now, that in the future, that should whatever activities you happen to partake in behind your own closed doors deprive me of well earned and much needed REM SLEEP, I will systematically remove everyone of your little sausage fingers with a rusty spoon.
Have a nice day.


Ironicaly enough, this is what was playing in my head when I wrote this.
I, hate the rain and sunny weather,
And i, hate the beach and mountains too;
(and) I dont like a thing about the city, no, no
And i, i, i, hate the countryside too!
And i, hate everything about you!... everything about you!
I, dont like a thing about your mother,
And i, hate your daddys guts too,
I, dont like a thing about your sister,cause i, i, i, think sex is overrated too.
And i, get sick when Im around, i, cant stand to be around,I, hate everything about you!Everything about you,Everything about you,Everything about you!
Some say I got a bad attitude,But that dont change the way I feel about you,
And if you think this thought might bring me down,
Look again cause I aint wearin no frown!
I dont really care about your sister
Forget the little bitch cause I already kissed her
One thing that I did to your lady
I put her on the bed and she didnt even say maybe
I know you know everybody knows...
The way it comes, the way its gonna go
You think its sad,And thats too bad,
cause Im havinA ball hatinEvery little thing about you!
Everything about you, everything about...I, get sick when Im aroundI, cant stand to be aroundI, hate everything about........... you! hehe

Crayons. The frozen Kind.

To the self???? If I am not HERE, then where am I? Should I choose not to belong to you, then to whom should I belong? I do hear your whispers while I am sleeping. I know how clumsily your hands fumble underneath the sheets. Each is experience is new, and I only want to experience it with you. BUT I don't creep around in dark corners. And beckon information that doesn't belong to me. You are then, cold and a coward. And in your eyes I can see all the lies that you think of me. Being double teamed in a dark alley behind the local Krispy Kreme....moaning like a whore. And why shoud it shock you? You've obviously seen me here before. And though you may turn the other cheek, your absence turns out to be a blessing in disguise when I come home to an empty house with Matt's cum still dripping down my thighs. And indeed only human, bound to make mistakes. I can feel your heart beat and I can hear it when it breaks. I can feel it beneath you skin, the skin you carry my secrets in...trembling above me, imperfect and lovely.
The double standard? What you think of me and what it amounts to, really... completely different. But remember, reality sets you free. There is something you don't know about me.
I am not afraid of you, I was more afraid of me. B/c I knoew that when tomorrow came, I didn;t know who I could be. I hid my heart, and you wore yours on your sleeve. But don't remind me of things past, it's just the excuse I'd need to leave. You say that love can be unconditional, but you don't remember what I could do...not that I want to. But it's not for me to choose, between right and wrong...lies that grey. And I feel like I am stumbling through my life, mixing my black and my white. Unable to distinguish my days from my nights. And I hope that someday you will be able to see me, see through me, leave me, leave me be. You can't see, b/c you don't want to know the truth. You gave me everything, anything that meant something, to me it's something for nothing. I'll take it as long as it's free.
I always eat babies this time of night. Or...at least I would, if had some crayons. Frozen.

Ode To Ruth and Saltine Crackers!

I am happily ingesting my dinner for the night which cnonsists of saltine cracker and ketchup packets. And no...not CATSUP. I don't eat that shit. And I am remembering the moment I realized that I loved you.
It was Novemeber...maybe. Sometime ago, I can't seem to remember when exactly. Time doesn't hold any meaning for me anymore. Events do not play out in chronological order for me. You had left three months prior to spending another night in my bed and diappeared with out so much as a whisper. Then, one night at the Mercury Cafe, during a poetry slam, I see you take the stage standing right in front of me. Three months had passed and not a word, and all I could think was; "Of all the shit Cafe's in Denver, you had to walk into mine."
Thank You Bogart.
And I had a vision of me rushing up on stage....passionate and infuriated...and bitch slapping you infront of god and everybody. But I didn't. I gathered my things and walked out and you followed me into the cold, desperately trying once again to justify yourself to me. And this strange feeling swept over me, anger and loathing mixed with a sense of satisfaction knowing that you were mine, and knowing you weren't a ghost. You were indeed, alive and breathing, and thats all that mattered.
And time slipped in and out for nearly six years and then I grew up. Like Wendy Lady leaving neverland...and missing the boy who would never....
GROW THE FUCK UP.
Some things have the ability to change you, and some things or events have the ability to make you want to avoid change. But the great thing about change is that it can be so subtle and so constant, that you won't even realize that anything has changed until it slaps you in the face.
A poingant fact was made clear to me earlier. It is a boys club. Men are as much a mystery to women as we are to men. That I don't understand these obsessions is something I can choose to live with. I see things in a different light and can appreciate beauty without smut. Imagination breeds passion, and passion is something I cannot live without. Its not there for me to understand. I don't want to understand it.

Attack of the 50 FT cum guzzling whore!

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I'm beginning to remember why I hate you.

For a minute there I almost forgot and then...WHAM! It hit me like a ton of bricks. Ha ha ha ha...I've always wondered why people said that. "Hit me like a ton of bricks..." Why not "It hit me like a ton of sardines...or spaghettio's..."? Anyway. I was just sitting here thinking of who I would really enjoy punching in the face in light of the horrible day I have had...and your name popped into my head. Funny how that happens. One minute you're thinking to yourself, "Man, I wish I could have punched Ghandi in the face, just to teach that pacifistic little shit a thing or two!" And then one of the little voices in your head says, "No, you should punch (BLEEP) in the face!" And you can feel the blood rush to your head, and your ears get hot, tiny beads of sweat form above your brow...and it almost feels like an orgasm. An orgasm of HATE and then you can't think of anything else. All of your thoughts are overwhelmed with visions of your fist flying through the air just waiting for that second of impact when it hits (BLEEP'S) jaw like a freight train taking out a Honda. Blood spraying out of (BLEEP'S) mouth showering your face and neck with tiny rubies, warm and sticky. B/c everything is stored in the farthest reaches of the mind and one by one memories sneak up on you. Then moment by moment you begin to remember all the times (BLEEP) has spit on you while talking, or stole your pen, left the toilet seat up, drank your last beer, cut you off on the highway, ran a red light, parked in the hadicapped zone...illegally of course...or maybe not illegally, it doesn;t really matter. Maybe (BLEEP) snaked the last Tickle Me Elmo, or was talking the entire time you were at that movie wout really wanted to see. Punch them in the face...and watch the weather change.