If you leave him now...

It's been a week since I saw Happy Feet and I'm still walking around spouting "Let me tell something to you..." and "You're just jealous..." and "It's called land, lardface..." over and over again. It's driving everybody insane. Bah. Who cares? They're just jealous... See!?! I can't stop.

I have a lot of things I really wanna write about. Lots of things have happened this past week but I'm still pretty shaken up about it so... maybe tomorrow.

Alright, stop. Yammer time!

I can't stop yammering. I feel like if I stop talking, the world as I know it would go kaboom. Also, I'd get really bad breath. Ew. Those are valid enough reasons not to stop yammering, right? 'Course, I am typing so... dunno why that would affect the smell of my breath.

Sigh.

I just have way too many things going on inside my head. And I can't really talk to any one person about it. There are layers upon layers of all manners of intimate stuff that I can't just spill out. Horrible.

It doesn't help that my boyfriend has gone AWOL. Methinks he got tired of me. Gah, who wouldn't? I'm tired of me... Christ on stilts. I'm tired of hearing myself whine and bitch about how life isn't fair. I'm irritating myself and holy crap, there is absolutely no escape from me. None! All exits are welded shut. Barricaded with titanium steel.

Anyway, I have a lot of decisions to make. And I'm not particularly looking forward to the task. Mostly because I know my decisions will hurt me. They will inconvenience a lot of people but ultimately, they will hurt me.

I need to completely overhaul my life. Starting with... well... ok... hrm.. I just hit a snag. Stupid layers.

DAMN YOU LIFE!!! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?!

Is bitchslapped two words or one?

It's been one helluva week. I feel like I've been bitch slapped, cold cocked and whooped good and proper by life. I couldn't get any hits in. Not even a weak slap upside the head. I'm itching to whomp on some poor bastard's ass. I'm spoiling for a fight but no one's obliging me. I'm walking around with a perpetual scowl on my face accompanied by the occasional bad-tempered hiss. Not a pretty sight. Not that I was ever pretty. Pfft.

Shit, who am I kidding? I like being this snarly. I'm back baby and I got the frown lines to prove it. I could do without the bitch slapping though. That hurts like a mother.

I'm snarly, surly and downright nasty. I'm cooking up the mother of all paybacks and I swear to you it's going to hurt. They'll be whining for their mommies once I'm through with their asses. They'll be wandering the streets with dazed faces going, "what the fuck, huh wha?"

Jesus Christ, there's a whole 'nother paragraph that should come before the one above this that should explain the need for vendetta. But I can't be arsed. Just not worth it. Let them NOT see me coming. I'm gonna leave them nutless, jobless and blackballed all across the board. Just watch me.

In other news... I'm on the prowl. In stealth mode. Can't make too many noises seeing as I'm still not sure about a lot of stuff. Soon as I am... I'm open for business. Ya-frickin-hoo.

Ok. I gotta go earn my keep. Toodles. Ciao. Baflang and all that jazz.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...

I had a yen to fiddle around with my blog. Added a few things and spruced up a few things too. I gotta say, I'm liking the new look.

It took me ages to figure things out seeing as how HTML still hates my guts. But I conquered you HTML! I kicked your cocky coding ass! Hah!

Changes. I need to make quite a few in my life. Starting with myself. I need to take control of my life. I need to stop letting other people stomp all over my self-esteem.

I shouldn't need anyone just to feel loved. Or validated. I'm honestly proud of myself and what I've accomplished so far.

I'm a good person. Sure I have my failings. Who doesn't? But really... I'm a good person. I have so much love to give; so much caring to share... if that isn't enough for other people, then so be it.

I am your loss. You are not mine.

I have to keep repeating that to myself at all times. I have to believe it a hundred percent.

Dane Freaking Cook

I just gotta say... I am in freaking love with Dane Freaking Cook.

He is THE funniest man alive. Everytime I go online I just have to check his site out and then go wallow in youtube. I am in love with him... Just absolutely, stupidly in love.

Whenever I say his name, I'm convinced little hearts come out of my mouth. Sigh.

How can I not be in love with him? He's funny, he's hot... he's extremely fuckable.

I'mma go melt now. Buh-bye.

Marked for life.

If I told you that I have a VERY low threshold for pain, you'd prolly slap me silly. Seeing me, you'd wonder if I'd gone nutso. Maybe I have. Most probably.

You see, I have 4 tattoos and I plan on getting more. The first ever tattoo that I got was of the Egyptian sun god, Rah. On my left arm. My friends did the tattooing and they botched it. Because it came out looking like an alien who was giving the world the dirty finger. To call it ugly would be complimenting it.

So as soon as I was able to save up enough money, I had the tattoo redone. Or fixed. Or covered up. It went from a medium sized tat into an oh-holy-crap-that's-one-big-ass-tattoo-for-a-girl sized tat. So now I have a fairy with wings the size of Pluto to cover up the stupid looking alien. It took Jeff of Black Strawberry all of 30 minutes to finish it. I love my second-slash-first tattoo.

Then I got a bug up my ass one day and decided to go in for a second tattoo. Got cherries. Left wrist. It hurt like hell. But up to this day, it's still my favorite tattoo. I'd like to think it's my temper barometer. Because for some reason, every time I feel like kicking someone's face in, the cherries turn into a more darker red than usual. Cool huh?

Next... I got a bracelet tat. Right wrist. With my son's name written on the underside part. I love it because... well who wouldn't love a tattoo of their kid's name? Exactly. Besides, it was time I got a really girly tattoo.

And then my latest.... Ooooh I love this one sooo much. Maybe because it hurt the most. Or maybe because I had it done while my boyfriend was watching after he got his tattoo done. Or maybe because it was done for free. Haha. Anyway, it's the only "abstract" tattoo that I have. I have no idea what it is or what category it belongs to. All I know is, it's damn cute.

I can't wait until I get my next one.

The end is always inevitable.

I've learned quite a few things about myself. I've learned that no matter how happy I am today, it does not mean that I'll still be happy tomorrow. Time is fickleminded. It does not respect anyone. It does not give guarantees.

I've learned that nothing is permanently mine. Everything can be taken away. In an instant. Just like that. Poof. It's gone. And no matter how tightly I hold onto something, it's not a guarantee that it won't slip between my fingers.

I've learned that love hurts. That the intensity of the hurt is directly related to the intensity of the love.

I've learned that despite how good I am, despite how careful I am, I can still get my ass kicked.

I've lost the love that I've prayed for. I'm lost. I'm hurt. I'm going to survive this.

Curses.

I'm tired. Very tired. They're all coming back. Every single one. I think they banded together and planned all this just to make my life miserable.

That or, I have to face the ugly truth that I'm also one of many and not the only.

Love should not be this exhausting.

I miss not being in love. Just me, my kid and my weird toys.

Saturday morning mayhem.

Went out with the boy again last night, after work. We seem to be going out a lot these past few days. Not that I'm complaining. I'm thoroughly smitten, after all. We have so much fun when we're together. Despite the embarrassing show of mush and the inevitable holding of hands, we always enjoy being together.

Creeping crumpets. I've turned into such a girlfriend. Who'd have thunk it? I let him hold my hand, I let him open doors for me. ME! The oh-so-fiercely independent one. Just goes to show, old dogs CAN learn new tricks. Arf.

Seriously though, I feel like I'm slowly becoming somebody I'm not. And I'm still unsure whether or not I like that it's happening. I like being rough around the edges. I like being snarly and surly and forever morose. Now, it's like somebody gave me a lobotomy without my knowledge and turned me into this... this... cheerful person. Good lord.

Before this dramatic change, I woulda just walked over to the conniving, pathologically lying bitch and slapped some sense into her. Now... shit... now, I just gnash my teeth, smile and let everything pass. Not as satisfying as the first scenario.

Lemme just say this now though... Get it out of the way... So I can stop dwelling on her and just focus on what's important.

You don't worry me. You were one of many. I'm the only.

I don't begrudge your relationship with him. I'm sure you treated him well and vice versa. But that's in the past. It should stay there. Don't try to rekindle anything by showing him naked pictures of yourself. That's just waaaay too desperate. And the ONLY sure thing you'll get out of it is a roll in the hay. But hey, if you're content with that, then by all means, keep it up. I personally think you're worth more than that. Honestly.

Ok. I got that out of my system.

Back to being foolishly in love. Oh lordy.

Oh It's On, Bitch.

Hoboy. I am hanging on by a thread. One more and I'm about ready to snap. The nerve of some people! When people assume they know me, or things about me, it makes me want to prove them wrong. If only to make them look like complete jackasses. Which they are. Really.

I was gonna write about the great time that I had with the boy yesterday. Believe you me it was one helluva great time. We saw Open Season at the IMAX Theater. Fun Fun. Stupid looking big-ass glasses but fun fun, nonetheless. See that smile? See? Fun, huh?

Then we ate at Tokyo Tokyo. Talked about the ex. Again. Was damn proud of myself that I didn't raise a hissy fit. Look, I get it that she was a part of his life, once. I get that. I'm still friends with a lot of my exes. But I don't offer to show them my naked pictures, damnit.

So, yeah. Anyway. We ate at Tokyo Tokyo. The boy, despite knowing that I HATE having my picture taken, took one of me.

I get really stupid when I'm angry and can't lash out.