5 Randoms: Dirty Dirty Men, Mostly.

18 05 2012

1. You know when different power cords all get tangled up together, like your i-pod and its headphones or your phone charger tries to make love to your computer charger and minute upon minute is spent getting them to stop being such a mess? That’s how I feel my mornings sometime start. Like If I can untangle one knot–waking up–from another knot–turning my frown upside down–my day will end up being good, but if I’m walking around all twisted, thoughts intertwined, I just won’t play right.

2. Yesterday I went for a run after work. Usually I run all through Cheesman Park; I  walk for like 5 minutes then I run all the way back home. (It’s really not that much running, but at least it’s something.) Anyway, while I was on the “walking” part of my excursion I passed two men sitting on a bench. These men had an unrecogniable age, because they had obviously done drugs for so long it was hard to tell if they were like 20, 60, 40 years old. Either way they were looking right at me, I didn’t want to be a complete asshole so I said hello. This is what followed:

“Daaammnn you sure are gorgeous.”

“I don’t feel very gorgeous right now.” (Because you know I had just ran like 2 miles in the heat and was all red and blotchy and tired and such.)

“Well, you are. I hope you tell your boyfriend how lucky he is. . . . And if you don’t have a boyfriend you should give me your number. . . .”

At this point I am pretty far away from them. And I just laugh it off.


And Ok Cupid came to life.

I wonder if he knows women get paid to actually do that? I mean, I don’t get paid to actually do that, but some women do. . .

3. Since moving to Denver I have essentially lost my vegan community. This makes me sad. It was nice having support, knowing that other people shared similar perspectives when it comes to what they put in their bodies. I know they’re not that far away, I just never see them anymore. And I miss them. I also miss feeling a part of something. And having back-up when others try to put me in the defense. I will not play that game. You eat what you want, I’ll eat what I want, let it be.

4. This particularly old man was in the store yesterday going through the porn. I love it when people get phone calls and they act as if they’re not actually in our store. He did this. And proceeded to talk about his dog, and not just his dog, but his dog’s poop. THEN after like 45 minutes of him going through ALL the porn in our store, he brings the ones he finally chose up the counter. As I’m ringing him out he says to me:

“I bought a video from here and didn’t really care for it. It’s been more than 30 days, can I bring it back or am I just fucked.”

Do you remember the part where he’s old? Like 80.

The whole scenario felt really absurd to me.

No, old man, just because you didn’t care for a porn you bought 2 months ago from us that you picked out from the $10 bin does not mean you can return it. Whether or not you’re fucked though, that’s up to you.

I didn’t say that.

I did say, “No, you cannot return it. But you can give it to a friend, if you don’t care for it. Maybe he will.”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

5. In my newsfeed this article came up (that was kind of old), 5 Reasons Being Single Sucks More Than You Thought.

The arguments made sense. BUT, it was based entirely around money. Like the main reasons being single sucks more than being married all have to do with capitalism. Which I find to be complete bullshit. So, if you’re single, you have to work more, you get paid less and you have to spend more money on trips, taxes, etc. Well, isn’t that the system’s fault, not marriage itself? Shouldn’t we work on changing those policies instead of just having more people get married to save money? Is it worth saving money to be monogamous with someone who is just “okay” for the rest of your life? Seems pretty ridiculous to me.

I think being single is fantastic. And what people do in their personal lives–married or single shouldn’t have that much pull in the work place. Because it really isn’t the company’s business how we spend our time or who we spend it with, as long as we get the job done satisfactorily.

I don’t even remember everything I wrote in this article, it being over a year old, but I’m sure my feelings are close to the same. Here are my Top 5 Reasons Not to Get Married. 


10 Minute Blog: Almost a Stream.

17 05 2012

I have a very limited amount of time, but I wanted to let you all know that I’m thinking about you. How sweet! I have to go to work in ten minutes.

Yesterday, at work, I got in an argument (discussion) with a guy around the same age as my dad, who insisted that I should have children. I was like, “nothing is coming out of that thing” (well, besides pee and squirts and stuff) and he was all like, “but you HAVE to,” and I was all like, “don’t fucking tell me what to do.” I didn’t say that, but I looked at him that way. It’s my body and I’ll do with it what I want. I don’t need  some older privileged white guy who happens to be a complete stranger insisting I do things with my body that I don’t want to do.

Though they really do try don’t they?

Also, I haven’t been sleeping very well. I’m waking up remembering my dreams and my dreams have not been so fantastic. Many involve work. Or boys who are too far away to touch. Or climbing massive mountains and being scared to death that I’m going to fall off of them.

Let’s take a moment to analyze all of that. . . .

I’m drinking like two day old burnt coffee. It’s pretty disgusting. How do people get up so early in the morning? One day I’ll be more productive. And that’s probably more of a literal statement, like, I’ll be more productive for one day. Instead of, eventually I’ll get my shit together–because who knows if that’s true. My life feels very manic. One week I’m up accomplishing so much shit, the next week–nothing.

I’m sending a piece off this week though. Wish me publishing luck–whatever that looks like.

I like working at night. I get more stuff done and then I don’t fall of the deep end and drink excessively, like I did Monday. Monday was a good day. Tuesday was sssooo shitty. I did absolutely nothing. Well, the most I did was walk to Cheesman Park and lay down there. Then I walked home and ate chinese food. Not good. I’ve been off balance ever since.

This blog is boring me.

Good thing it’s over.

Hope you all have an splendid day.

Jealousy is Just Love and Hate at the Same Time.

14 05 2012

It’s Monday. That means I’m exactly HALF WAY through Manless May. So, it’s time for another update. Is there a reason why guys seem to like me more this month? Is it because they know deep down that I will never allow it to happen? Thus a part of them wants to be the one to “break” me, while another part of them secretly doesn’t want anything to really happen either.

I was really hoping my period would start some time. But, since there is nothing medically wrong–according to all the tests I’ve had done–I guess I should just embrace it and be happy that I don’t have to deal with it for a little longer. I know people have a hard time accepting menstruation as a beautiful thing but I actually like the cyclical effects of it. I like how one’s body literally discards negative energy. A mini-death every month. It’s good for us.

I’ve realized that the further away a guy is the more crushable he becomes and I finally figured out why– because it’s safe. I don’t have to worry about changing my schedule, adjusting to another persons’s habits, or worst of all-falling in love, because they are all conveniently out of reach. I can flirt from a far in a fun, non-commital type of way. I can’t decide if this is healthy or harmful. I’m going to go with healthy. Because it’s a way for me to ease back into the concept of being in a relationship without actually being in a relationship. I can test my own boundaries and discover not only what I need, but what I want from other people.

The theory is that it takes half the amount of time out of a relationship to be completely (or almost entirely) healed from that relationship ending. I tend to move a lot faster than most people, so I’m guess instead of two and half ish years it’s going to take me one and half, which means, I am nearly half way there. To be perfectly honest, it was more a bruise to the ego than an actual heartbreak. And I feel it’s perfectly reasonable not to want to jump back into something just to be “in something.” Seems like many people are afraid of loneliness. But just because you’re with someone doesn’t mean you’re not alone. Or the opposite. How does that really bad song go– “doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone.” Either way. Being fulfilled by one’s self is the only way to be healthy, both in and out of relationships, which is why I’m focusing on me this month and not men.

Though, it seems like I’m still focusing a lot on men, which is frustrating. For example, this guy at work professes his love for me every day. I find this ridiculous. He’ll be talking about dates he has planned and he’ll say something like, “I’ll cancel all my dates this week, just to take you out once.” Silly things like that. It’s like, I know you can’t possibly be in love with me because you know nothing about me. All you know is that we work together and I have awesome dance moves to 90’s pop songs. That’s it. And then what? We go on a date and it’s like that episode where Lisa FINALLY goes out with Screech and Screech ends up not liking Lisa anymore and that whole running gag ends. Work would become awkward. Either way. If we ended up hitting it off or we didn’t. So, why even bother? Also, it’s pretty obvious that it’s not “me” he “loves” but what I represent. The allure of being with someone at work, when there are strict regulations against that type of behavior. We’re not even supposed to be friends with each outside of work, let alone date. And I don’t want to get fired. I actually like my job. Even though the pay is shit and sometimes really REALLY skanky methed-out people with attitude problems come in (but that’s everywhere right?).

Wasting my time on guys when I should be reading. Or writing. Or learning arithmetic (since I still suck at it). I obviously still have some self-esteem issues to work through. Though I understand that I often weigh my worth on whether or not other people like me, I still cannot stop myself from doing it. It’s sort of like having psychic powers where one can foretell the future but can do nothing to change it. I’m sure there is something I could do, but it probably costs a lot of money and psychiatric care. Or prozac. See, I understand theoretically that my worth is not based on other people’s opinions of me, but it would be a lie to say that I don’t, in reality, consider their opinions more than I should.

Anyway. I could go on and on, but I’m having a writing party today! Finally after like 2 years (holy cow!) someone new is going to start critiquing my work (and vice versa), so excited! For sure getting it together, slowly, but surely.

It’s Gray Outside. This Wasn’t Meant to Be So Depressing. Oops.

13 05 2012

What would you call a woman who, after two glasses of wine, falls asleep while watching the Star Trek parody porn? Me. Oh, you picked “sad” didn’t you? Close. That’s almost my name. And that’s how I spent my Saturday night. I don’t really know what happened, but suddenly I am no longer going out. I don’t like this. I feel like I’m turning into an old woman very quickly. While I was working my friends were making other plans, making other friends, moving on with their lives. It is as if work has killed me. It’s at least killed my social life. Particularly since i no longer have weekends off or any set schedule. At least I like the people I work with. Though we’re not allowed to hang out outside of work. Good thing I work all the time. At least there is human contact there.

Speaking of human contact.

I just tried to create a complicated relationship with myself on facebook

Excuse you facebook, I can indeed create a relationship with myself. In fact, I’m having a relationship with myself RIGHT NOW! And it’s very, very, complicated indeed. So FUCK you and you’re inability to allow all kinds of relationship dynamics on your site.

I changed it to “life” instead. We’re having our ups and downs. We’re fighting a lot more. I’m not sure if we’re going to make it.

In fact, I know the relationship is not going to last. I am just not sure when it’s going to end. Or how.

Anyway, enough of that. Maybe I’ll finally buy myself the Form 2 today. I’ll treat myself since I’m not wasting any money going out anymore.

And, yeah, fine, I’ll change my name to Sad. Are you all happy now?

I Almost Pooped My Pants.

11 05 2012

Have you ever lived with someone else and shared a bathroom, then one day the other person is in the bathroom but you really really really have to go to the bathroom and for some reason they’re like taking an eternity (masturbating?) in there, so you hold it and hold it, but then your mind starts imagining all of the places in the house you could potentially go to the bathroom instead. Like in the kitchen sink. Or in a plastic bag. Or in an old salsa jar. But all of that imagining just disgusts you. So you hold it longer. Am I the only one who has done that? Who is actually doing it right now?

Trying to distract myself instead.

Wondering if any one driving by would see my squatting in the yard? Probably, we don’t have any trees. Or any bushes. Just some tall irises amongst the rocks. If I could go outside and transform myself into a dog then no one would notice. Except I’d be a dog without an owner and I’d probably get taken to the pound. Theoretically, if I could transform myself into a dog it would be better if I could just transform myself into someone who didn’t have to go to the bathroom. That would solve that problem.

I just watched this video as part of the distraction ploy.

I hear it all the time at work. What the hell is wrong with her? She dances like a drunk monkey that just did a speed ball and then stuck an anal plug up her butt. And a cut-off flannel? For a music video? About being someone’s lover? So weird.

Relief! Finally! Relief!

Okay. So now I can blog about something more important.


Occasionally at work I am selected to be the one who cleans up our lot. This is probably the worst part of the job for me. The best part is that I get to be outside. The rest is me bending over and over with my ass crack falling out of my pants while I pick filthy cigarette butts out of the pebbles. And whatever else I find. Which leads me to the finger nail. That’s right, the other day I found a strippers used thumb nail on the ground. I am still completely disturbed by this. I don’t know why exactly it creeps me out so much. I think it’s because I can’t quite figure out a good enough story behind why I had to pick up someone’s broken nail off the ground. Like was she opening a can of pop in the parking lot, and oops! So, she just threw it on the ground? Was she giving some guy a bj and the guy got angry and started breaking her fingers one by one? Is she dead somewhere? Should I call CSI? I didn’t know what to do. So I just threw it in the trash bag with the cigs and the sad droopy condoms.

I’m waiting for the day when I find drugs. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the drugs, sell them, snort them, share them with friends. Throw them away you say? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll probably throw them away, you’re right, I’m not that cool. Plus, I don’t want to lose a finger nail and not remember where it fell off. . .because unlike this strippers by fingernails (and every other part of my body) are real.

Dear Charlie: Fuck You.

10 05 2012

But Now I’m a Little More Fit. So, Ha!

I was awoken at 6 o’clock this morning by the ripping excruciating pain of a Charlie Horse throbbing in my leg.

So I did the most illogical thing I could think of.

I went for a run.

I actually think my act of defiance worked. It was a better decision then staying in bed and having another one. Also, it gave me some “me time” before going to work for eight hours, which is where I probably established the beginning workings of said cramp. Standing on concrete every day for eight hours will do that.

Plus, now I got my healthy stuff done for the day, I worked out, I meditated, I drank a smoothie with spinach in it and everything (sorry for the noise Emily). If life is about balance I wonder how I’m going to fuck all that up tonight. I did rent a Star Trek porn, so it will probably be that and some Jameson. Real classy.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m a guy.

Not a man.

I feel like I was born into the right body and all that. But lately my masculine traits have been featured more in my day to day life. Am I transforming into a bro? For the love of the goddess help me.

Back to running. The thing is I like running, particularly in the morning, but I don’t like waking up in the morning. So there’s a problem there. I wish I could wake up every morning and run like super awesome healthy people do, and I know I COULD but sleeping is just so wonderful. I have motivation now. Sex.

Woah! woah! woah! You scream, “I thought this was MANLESS MAY!?!?!”

Don’t get your boxers in a bunch buddy.

It is.

But soon May will be over. And what better time then now, while I’m man-free to get sexy?

And by sexy, I mean sexier. And by sexier I mean improved endurance and definition.

Now, I know, there’s a lot of  people in my circle of people who discuss the concepts of body-image and media’s distorted portrayal, I can buy that argument–I mean it’s pretty obvious. But also, every individual has their own standards at which they feel attractive. Exercising gives me energy, which is the number one important thing to me.

And I’d like to be completely honest here, I don’t feel comfortable when I gain weight. It’s been a long time since it’s happened, like maybe when I was still just a vegetarian who drank too much beer, but if I put on too much fat on my hips it literally hurts. It’s not something I can get used to. Ever.  Everyone has their own level of comfort, their own level of standards for what makes them feel and look good.

So yeah, now that I’m done with that tangent, I ran today not just to defy Charlie and his stupid horse in my leg, but because I have a couple of mini-crushes and it’s good to always be prepared. One never knows where a crush may lead. . . (except in Man-less May, it’s pretty obvious it’s at least going to lead into June.)

Vote For My New Glasses! Also dick pics (hahaha not really).

10 05 2012

Have I talked about this before? Am I the only one who is an asshole to the people at the grocery store (or where ever) who ask, “would you like to donate a dollar to prostate cancer?”

No, you fucking moron, I do not want to donate any money to prostate cancer, I think cancer has enough talent and persistence on its own to not need any of my financial encouragement.

Seriously. Why have they not noticed a problem in their choice of words? It’s been years and they still say the same thing. Idiots! Imbeciles! Do I always have to do everything MYSELF!

So, I’m considering getting a new pair of glasses. . . which ones do you like? Any of them?

I can’t decide!

I have to go to work in like 30 minutes. If this isn’t edited very well, I blame it on that. Also my internet is all wanked-out today. I blame it on the guy weed-eating the lawn. I don’t know why it’s his fault, but it is.

I’ve been doing more free writing lately, working with dialogue, which is fun. Basically recreating my roommate and my conversations, but making them even better–I know, it’s hard to imagine–but it’s truly possible!

…hours later. . . .

Okay. So the internet was so fucked that I couldn’t get this posted until after work.

I’m too tired to really say anything else. But hooray for dick pics, right? Am I right ladies? Okay. Well, whatever, we all have our “things”.

Becoming What I Want to Be.

8 05 2012

I recently finished reading The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides author of Middlesex. I have to admit that the throughout the book I was depressed– probably because one of the main characters is clinically depressed. I don’t want to give away the ending, but I will say that I saw it coming. It felt like the author had known the ending before he even knew the entire story–which is fine. It does wrap-up nicely. Though I personally don’t like clean endings.

In any event, after reading it and talking to my friend who had suggested it to me, I mentioned how one of the main characters, Mitchell, seemed like he was probably based on the author himself and we talked about how the other character seemed very David Foster Wallace-like. Interestingly enough an article was written on that very idea about DFW, Eugenides, Franzen, and Mary Karr.

How their personal relationships played out is irrelevant to me (yeah, it’s kind of interesting, but not what’s important).

What I found vital from reading this is the concept of community.

Just like how Patti Smith and the like had community.

Just like how Andy Warhol and the like had community.

And so on and so on.

Community is what I’m missing.

I know that it’s here. Or it could be here. We just don’t utilize it. We need to push each other, to compete with each other, to critique each other. Instead of just going out and drinking every Friday night we should get together as a group and share our work. I need people. Smart people. Writer people. Artsy Fartsy people. I’m not getting any younger. I need to WRITE. And not just this blog, like actual stories.

It’s a major dilemma for me. It’s what I want to do, but it’s what I always put off the most. There’s a huge fear of failure, which is ridiciulous. I know I’m going to fail. I’m probably going to fail over and over again, but I’ll never fail at all if I don’t ever write anything. I just need to accept the fact that I will have a collection of really shitty stories. Amongst those, or after those, or at some point, there will be one that is good. At least one.

I need to immerse myself in it, the writing life. I need to do it all the time. Hours and hours of practice. I don’t know how the days go by so quickly or how I end up not spending as much time reading and writing as I’d like to, but all that needs to change. Even if it means less sleep. Less netflix. Less drinking. Less fucking around on facebook. Tis time to get my shit together and start doing what I actually want to do instead of fear-blocking myself.

Now, who wants to join me? We can be the next Breakfast Club of Artists. With, of course, a much better name.

Nobody. In. My. Mind. (A Man-Less May Update.)

7 05 2012

Remember that play Lysistrata, a “comedy” where the women of Greece withhold their sexuality so the Grecian men stop fighting in war? Man-less May is nothing like that. I am not doing it for a noble cause like peace or harmony—unless you consider inner peace a noble cause, then perhaps I am. I’m thinking a month may not be long enough. It hasn’t been difficult at all. Yes, it’s only been a week, but I’m a forth of the way there! I have friends who have gone months… MONTHS. That’s plural. As in more than one month and they’re not dead from it. They don’t even seem scared by it, just a little depressed—but that could be from anything.

It’s obviously not the physical that people end up being deprived of the most—though touch is vital to feel connected to humanity. What I think people end up craving is a sense of companionship, conversation, someone that relates to them, that understands them. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s highly unlikely I’m going to find those things with online dating. Even if I could I’d have to wade through so many incompatible people before I got there that I’d be exhausted and probably not even see a winner when a winner was there. I can’t even count the number of people I went on dates with, let alone talked to. And out of all those I only still talk/hang out with two. TWO. What I’m saying is that it’s too time-consuming for me to handle. Dating. Men. Dating men. Not going out on dates is really freeing up my time and I’m being partially (if not fully) productive. I’m blogging more, I’m reading a ton, I’m even making artwork.

Anyone want a Juggalowl drawing? I’m going to have a nice collection here soon.

It’s been raining and gray all day. (Does anyone get annoyed that gray is spelled two different ways for no good reason?) Anyway, I enjoy these sorts of days, when it’s cool and cloudy and everything seems to be a little more piercing, a little more alive. It makes me want to curl up and read philosophy and do crossword puzzles and drink red wine. And I will do all of those things. It will be fantastic. It’s the kind of day I don’t want to end. Because when it gets dark it will be like any other night and the magic of the sort of inner-reflection type afternoon will be gone. Tomorrow it will be sunny. Since living in Colorado I cannot recall two gray days in a row. So much not to do, so many men not to do it with. Peace.

Another Warpaint song, because it’s that kind of day.

My Old-School Blog Style: Keepin’ It Real Random.

4 05 2012

Good luck to you, with this.

Today I shaved all my armpit hair off, now it’s soft like a baby’s butt–not really–I have no idea what a baby’s butt feels like, I am not perverted in that way nor am I ever around babies, but isn’t that an expression people use? Either way I have to admit that I like being hair-less under the arms. I do kind of miss my hair friends; they were like two little pets I got to play with every day. They were also good douche-bag detectors, like if a guy was creeped out by them then it meant he was probably a conservative asshole who is bad in bed and I wouldn’t want to be around him anyway. Now that doesn’t matter because I’m not sharing my bed (or any bed) with any one ever again. Okay, that was a dramatic statement. By ever again I mean all of May. Maybe even June, you fools! Imbeciles! Do I have to do everything myself! Name that movie. You can’t. Because it’s Sleeping Beauty and only little girls who have watched it 347 times understand that reference. Kind of funny that that used to be my favorite movie considering all of the misogynist undertones—like the woman can’t take care of herself and has to be “sexually” awaken by a man. Not only that, but she can’t take on the Evil Witch Dragon herself. I mean, that movie would have been so much better if Aurora had gathered up all of her woodland creature friends and together they would have gone over to Maleficent’s castle and fucked her up until she backed up off and let Aurora take over the kingdom she rightly inherited. Maleficent was always my favorite villain and then Ursula. I love their cackles. A woman can’t really get anywhere in the world without a good cackle. That was not a true statement. You know what is a true statement? Me either. I’m not going to dwell on it.

Considering where I want to dwell in the future. I think I’ve come up with a partial plan. Live here until my lease is up, go back home for a month to be with my family and then vamoose—escape somewhere not in the United States. I’m thinking a tour through Europe. Like a month in each country or longer if I find one I like. I’d like someone to go with me, preferably someone who speaks one (or more) of the following: German/Spanish/French. I’m trying to learn Spanish right now. I think six months is plenty of time to get a hang of the language if I try hard enough. My other option is to move to New Orleans. But I can move there when I get back. I just never thought I’d have the personality to travel all around, especially if I have to do it by myself, but maybe I should just suck it up and do it. I can’t wait around for a friend who just happens to want the same thing to be able to take off at the same time as me. It would be ideal. But I don’t want to be old and regret always playing it safe. Or waiting around for other people.

Speaking of other people. I’ve been contemplating the art of the wink. I’ve never been a winker, but lately I’ve started to do it. Usually I do a hard wink via Lucille in Arrested Development, just to be funny. But occasionally I’ll do the flirty wink. It takes practice. I wouldn’t recommend practicing all of the time—I know a girl who does that and it’s awkward. But it’s totally worth it. To get it right. It almost becomes instinctual. Like you say something clever—wink. You see someone cute across the room—wink. You’re at work, you’re bored, your co-worker looks at you funny—wink.

It’s such an easy way to connect and also be slightly-sexy slightly-creepy at the same time. Which is exactly how I see myself. Thus, it all works out. I am officially now a winker.

Not a wanker.

Though it is National Masturbation Month, so I guess for a month I’ll be a winker and and a wanker. Winker Wanker, could be a good band name, for like a country square dancing kind of band. I wonder if I’ll ever be in a band again. It’s not at the top of my list of things to do, but I’d totally do it. Maybe when I live in France. Or Austria. And I’ll be in like a techno metal band and just scream weird noises into an amp that makes those noises sound even weirder. We’ll see. The future is not yet clear, but I can handle the haze. And my newly smooth-as-a-baby’s-butt armpits.