Falling Into Insignificant Lies And Living Through Falsities...Everything Is Chaotic And Delectable Distorted Imagery... "They tend to be suspicious, bristly, paranoid-type people with huge egos they push around like some elephantiasis victim with his distended testicles in a wheelbarrow terrified no doubt that some skulking ingrate of a clone student will sneak into his very brain and steal his genius work." ~WSB

vrijdag, mei 07, 2010

Oh Bloody Hell!

It has been a rough past while. My mind is trying to gracefully ballet dance around the broken glass of the past while.
I almost forgot, LAUNDRY. Myself and the laundry machine are FAR from friends. Normally I would just do my fucking laundry in the most normal and polite way possible. Last thursday, bright and early, I had to respond to a knock on my door. My neighbour informed me that "arr washer be possessed!" I had to wring out my big quilt to make room for everything else I was washing. It weighed about as much as I do soaking wet (ha, ha, ha, for those who think I'm miniscule, that would mean the blanket and I have the same weight in both states. ...,). So after 20 mins of standing before an open washer, wringing out this heavy and cold SOB, I turned the machine on and ran upstairs with the wet quilt. Male roomie in washroom...it was thrown into the kitchen sink (eventually it did make it to the bathtub and back down to the washer. Not the best way to start ones day though).
Skip through some boring and pointless days of my existance...Ah yes, TUESDAY! So I decided to have a few drinks that night...my male roommate decided to espand from normal shows to the ones parodied on South Park...Ghost Hunters (me thinks) and Whale Wars. Drunk me and animal cruelty= instant balling. Then mothers day...My grandmother was the trigger. Then on and on, until arachnophobia came on...I recognized EVERYTHING for a movie I saw once when I was REALLY young (ah, repression...handy tool that is).
I went running early wednesday morning (before 6:30am) which has made my calves sore...which leads to today (or what we should call thursday). Wearing heels to an important function for 8 hours...ouchie to take them off. I thought I was going to play assistant today (I'm good at that). No, I had my own assistant and had to talk to over 200 strangers. I had to lug around an expensive camera which was heavy and not mine. It was an uncomfortable and stressful day. Luckily I fucked up to keep myself from EVER having to help out in that situation again. I'm not actually going to complain as it was probably for the best. I fuck up and never learn, but NEVER have to go through that again. If I didn't I would have to actually adjust myself to this kind of situation. Technically, I'd rather never to do that again. I feel stupid though and would like to make up for it somehow...but that would require another day in Hell (seriously, I'd rather be an editor, model and ASSISTANT WITHOUT A CAMERA!!). He could easily punish me, though, by writing something for me to say to this scouting company (playing as me anyway) and sending in one of the bajillion pictures he has of me. It would be embarassing for him to admit it to me, and even worse if they contacted me. Then I have to do something infront of a crowd, sober and more professional. He said he would bug me about it and I'm glad he hasn't.
I must say though, I am quite attractive when I'm drunk or stoned and looking at myself in the mirror.

My bus is only 4ish hours away! I'm excited! I miss the people in the place I'm going. A whole lot of pretty ladies and I get to share a bed with one of them! Amazing bookstores and a large body of water for swimming! Mountains! I am so torn between homes and loved ones that if I could, I would be living somewhere in the mountains, but instead, a few people near and dear to my heart, hold me in this wretched city (it's not that bad, I'm just terribly sick of it). Grr...

Mmm...Chicken wings cooking for my tummy. It will be the only food I have until my long bus ride is over. Again, I'm a wee bit drunk and by that, I mean enough to burn myself on the oven and tell the burn mark to not be on important scars. Not "Oh shit! Ouch!" More of a "aw crap! Don't be on any of my good scars!" It's within an inch of an old girlfriends sharp-pointy object scribbling (now that it's all red).

So, I'm going to read Cracked and listen to music until I hug the pretty lady I live with and get dropped off at the bus depot. It would be entertaining if security went through my bags and I threw a vibrator in my purse, schoolie bag thingy that is almost completely attatched to my side. Oh, funny, funny for Mr.Security man! Bwahaha!!

zondag, mei 02, 2010

The End of it All!

It could be due to the strange paranoid man I live with (adding to my paranoia), or the fact that I spent lastnight watching all three Resident Evil movies (I don't know if there are more and probably shouldn't find out)...in away, I kind of want a zombie "appocalypse." Probably because I'm bored and that would vanquish my money issues and anger problems. Who wouldn't love to beat in the face of the slow zombie version of someone who over-powered and assaulted you when they weren't a zombie? Saying that, it would have to mean that I didn't end up like a zombie. I also realized, I'm a weak, pathetic little shit who has only thrown a fist a couple times (and each time I was a super-human version of myself, AKA a psychotic episode or drunk and pissed off).
Of course, the Mr. I live with seems more excited to go on a killing of zombies rampage than actually being paranoid. He's trying to teach his wife and I how to use guns ("Come hunting with me. It would be good for you."), though we don't share his enthusiasm for killing gophers and coyotes. His wife will wait until there is a reason to kill something (danger or food...I would wait until I'm halucinating to kill for food, foolishly. I'll kill danger and if it's an animal, I'll cry about it later). I want to learn how to use a gun as I think it would be spiffy. Pew, pew! Pew-pew-pew!! I want to know how to use weapons incase I ever have to use them. Me, writing this, reading what I wrote...all a good enough reason not to trust me with weapons. If I was some tough bitchin' cool woman of strength and power (not some girl who knows that hiding is her best asset), I would look at weak feable me with pity and strap me in a back-pack or hide me somewhere with a rape whistle incase I'm surrounded by zombies. "Save me super me!" I wouldn't even make good back-up food for anyone in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe I need to change all this so I'm at least useful for something I kinda would like to happen to spice up my life (I'd say, knowing me, it's possible...though it sounds more like a nutjob going overboard and trapped in some fantasy world while the body atrophies...).

So, something not zombie-related...I'm leaving the city and I'm excited. Yay! Sorry, my mind is still going on about the zombies and the end of the world. If only the human population could drop by a lot, that would be kind of spiffy. I'm in the wrong generation and not to happy with living in this world. Or...I'm happy with countless things, just not coping well with being an adult I guess and realizing the world isn't the fun place it was when I was young. Grr...

Now, I really feel bad for people I write to...all the obscure nattering that never really gets my initial point across. I'm going to tend to the dishes and other kitchen stuff...then the bathroom. Maybe go for a run.