10 thoughts while on a run in cheesman park

23 07 2013

1. When people smoke pot do they end up consuming the same amount in food as a person who chooses to drink alcohol instead? Like if I got high and ate a whole bag of Doritos wouldn’t that be about the same as me drinking like 4 beers?


2. Standing at a red light. This weird guy watering his garden looks over at me, looks back at the garden, then sticks the hose in his mouth and starts drinking from it as if the hose is a giant cock ejaculating into his mouth and he really really likes the “water.” Was he trying to tell me something, like, “hey girl I see you, seeing me watering this garden, and I just want to let you know that I’ll never water yours. . .”????

3. Am I the only one who doesn’t quite know what to do when they pass another runner? Like I always want to check them out, regardless of age, gender, race, I want to check them out to see how fit they are, how heavy they’re breathing, how much they seem to be enjoying it or not. But yet, I feel that’s invasive. Like watching someone eat or purposely listening to someone go to the bathroom.

4. And then if the guy is obviously cute. What to do? Do you give them eye contact and hope they’re into sweating heavily breathing awkward girls or do you just keep looking straight ahead because you’re “intense about working out” and this “isn’t about them?”

5. Why do my shorts seem to always want to fall off and my shirt seems to always want to come up while I’m running, like what I want more than anything is to show off my perspiring beer belly.

6. I let me friend borrow my headphones so I’ve been running with no i-pod. Sometimes I like it because it gives me a chance to clear my head, other times I don’t because I can hear myself breathing and I start to freak out because I think that I’m breathing at a ridiculously creepy asthma inducing rate and that my heart is going to implode and I’m going to die right there in the park and all the homeless people and feral cats are going to eat me.


7. I have always been adamant about sidewalk etiquette. For example, if you’re walking in a group and someone is coming the opposite way. . . half of the group moves to the right single file so others may pass easily. I don’t know why this is so difficult for people. (And I also include people with their dogs in this same category of proper sidewalk etiquette.)

8. Speaking of dogs, I just may get one when I move to my next apartment. I keep checking out other people’s dogs trying to figure out which breed, size, fur ratio, will be right for me. Obviously going to go to a shelter if I get one. Mutts. “Mutt” is a weird word. Mutts are almost always badass dogs.

9. I wonder if I’ll ever get really fat. Like unhealthily obese.

10. Plastic surgery turns everyone who has it into cyborgs. Well, technically, only those with implants or lap bands etc. where something is added to the body, not taken away.


Have you RSVPed to the Breeding Party?

20 07 2013

Yeah, there’s a fetish for that.

They say anything you can think of in regards to sexuality, someone has done. For example think of the weirdest food and the weirdest place you can stick it–yep, someone has already tried that. Recently I was slutting around online and stumbled upon a BDSM fetish called “breeding parties.” There are a lot of different ways this can work, but basically it’s exactly how it sounds. A woman or women not on birth control have sex with several men in an attempt to up their chances of pregnancy.

It appears that the fetish can be arousing for one or both (or all) of the partners involved– like the woman could really get off on fucking lots of different men, a dom could really get off on making his sub fuck whoever he says. Whatever, I don’t really care what gets these weirdos off. What I care about is that in the end, after this party has taken place, there’s a pretty good chance that the woman is (women are) going to be knocked up.

Then it’s not a game anymore.


Can you imagine an entire fucking life created out of this? I mean are the people involved really wanting to become parents or are they doing it because it’s a high risk kink?

While reading about this there was a brief mention of the concept of sperm wars–which is when a woman has sex with several guys around the same time and the sperm literally competes for a spot in her ovaries. The idea being that genetically the strongest evolutionarily is going to be the winner and yay, the prize is landing as a human on earth–whoo!

I guess I’m not weird enough. More than that I think having a child is probably the biggest responsibility any two people together can have. Maybe it’s because the planet’s resources are limited or that there are a lot of un-loved people on this earth, or that kids generally suck unless their parents are super cool, but I don’t know if a “breeding party” is a really swell idea particularly if the intentions center around the deviance of it instead of the reality.

I’m Not Doing Nothing, But I’m Kind of Doing Nothing

11 07 2013

To say that I’m nervous is putting it mildly. Whenever a friend brings it up or my mother calls me on the phone I want to turn into an ostrich and bury my head in the sand. It’s been three months since I quit my retail job in an attempt to go back into what I’m actually good at. I took a risk and that risk has left me jobless and 20 days away from being out on the street or even worse captive in my parent’s basement in the middle of nowhere Kansas. I have been going through fluctuating waves of hope and dejection.

To say I haven’t given deep thoughts to pulling a Sylvia Plath or a David Foster Wallace would be a lie– if only I had written something nearly as profound as either of them. Sure, it’s a dramatic topic but let’s be real for a second. I am two-weeks away from returning to the homeland a failure. What I never wanted to be was a disappointed and I have to accept the fact that that is exactly what I’ve become–at least to myself.

Head in sand ostrich

I pushed myself to excel every year of my life, Straight As, President of Clubs, Lead Roles, Masters Degrees, Records, Novels, and yet none of that was good enough. Because being good doesn’t necessarily get you anywhere.

Being positive or negative just makes you look at the situation differently but it doesn’t change the situation–the situation is neutral.

I have applied to over 100 jobs. I went so far as to walk co/blvd and colfax all the way down to wnykoop and apply to as many server jobs as I could along the way. I told myself while I was in grad school that I’d never work a server job again. That getting those degrees was my way out of that world.

Despair comes close to being the right word.

And everyone around says, “don’t give up!”

What sirs and ma’ams am I actually supposed to do at this point?

How can giving up not be the solution?

It’s just a really big problem. If I quit concerning myself with it, maybe it will solve itself.

In the end something will happen whether I have a plan or not.  Is there really a point in making a plan when at this point there is nothing to plan?

Desire comes close to being the right word.

Luckily I have assurance that the outcome will end up being exactly what it needs to be. I have confidence that it’s going to work out in some overall big master-plan-that-I-am-unaware-of type of way.

There is plenty to be thankful for in this situation, mainly my parents offering still after all these years of assisting to keep assisting. I wonder if they ever wish they had insisted I go into something that people actually get paid for–like computer programming or I don’t know, business–instead of telling me that I should become whatever I wanted. And then my friends who put up with me and more often than they should, buy me beer. Of course I have my health, besides the bug bites on my ass, my reproductive system doing whatever it feels like and my left pinky-toe trying to separate from my foot I’m as healthy as a clam. I have food to eat. I have time to read books and write stories because there are so few jobs to apply to, I can watch whatever I want to on netflix. I’m not homeless going through the alley dumpster like the guy I can see from my window! I heard the Jay-Z record and it didn’t suck! I don’t skateboard so no dog can ever bite at my ankle while I zoom by (I saw this happen). Life can be pretty awesome.

I’m trying to be all mindful and shit. Again, the situation is neutral. How I respond, how I react, well that’s all up to me. I ride the waves.