screaming into the darkness

I'm not quite sure why I keep this blog active, I jumped onto Blogger at the end of the age of blogging. I thought all my clever-ist thoughts would be spread across the blogosphere; that people would click my ads and make me famous, but little did I know it was already over.
It sped up. People started being so connected that they couldn't maintain eye contact for more than a second.
Dinner parties started turning into youtube parties. Lunch dates included my friends favourite cat videos.
Slowly but surely the internet became one with all of our thoughts, and yet it wasn't the internet of old, it was the new internet; where minutes were months and cynicism ruled.
Click this, favourite that, downvote him and upvote feminism. To hell with patience I want it now!
I had a cell phone once  for 3 months in 2002. My phone was already obsolete when I got it, it was pay as you go and had a flip top. I loaded it up with minutes and went on my merry way. I kept it plugged into the wall of my first apartment most of the time which defeated the purpose of having a phone you could bring anywhere. One day after having the phone a few weeks I was expecting a call and I had errands to run so I decided to bring my phone with me.
I was browsing the cheeses at the grocery store when it rang, and back then you didn't have silent mode or whatever so when your phone rang it fucking rang! I had an armful of produce and my phone was deep in my purse so I began fumbling around while my fellow shoppers looked on. I finally made it to the bottom of my purse and just as my hands settled upon that grey rectangle it stopped ringing.
That night when my phone ran out of minutes I decided that it wasn't for me, I didn't care if no one could get in touch with me, I preferred it this way.
This decision didn't seem that odd until about 4 years ago, at which point it became unacceptable and almost suspect to not have a smartphone. I see the looks I get on the bus when I look out the window,instead of into my lap. I can feel your judgement when I'm waiting in line and instead of looking at my bff's facebook pics I'm reading the back of a pamphlet.
Im not poor , Im not foreign, I didn't drop my phone in the toilet or the sink, I just prefer to not have one. I don't want to see your dinner unless you are across the table from me and I would much rather log into something for a few hours in the evening and be able to fully detangle myself at the end of the day.
I just miss talking to people about people. Don't even get me started on why I don't drive.

I'm a Man?

I've been thinking a lot about Feminism lately. I've noticed quite a few of the shows I watch and almost all of the media I consume had had a hard focus on Feminism as of late.
From Lena Dunham finding well deserved success in her writing and overall brand to Beyonce and others putting a new take on the strong fierce female.
I grew up in a time where women always had equal rights, I never had to fight to have my voice heard or do any drastic acts of defiance to change the way things were.
I never burned any bras , I have always embraced my femininity and the femininity of others. I always saw it as a strength to be feminine and masculine at the same time, to have control in all situations and yet still be able to wear Tulle on occasion. To be able to work a rewarding full time job and yet still be very interested in window treatments. To be interested politically and yet worry about the consistency of your mashed potatoes. To embrace motherhood , or shun it completely ; my feelings have always been " whatever boo, you do you " without question I have taken these rights for granted, blissfully applying blush prior to mowing the lawn.
Until recently I hadn't given much thought to the fairly recent women in history who fought desperately for Women's rights, even now with it fresh on my mind I can't name names. I have no feminist icon, women my age are more likely to quote Marilyn Monroe a paranoid schizophrenic than Ani Difranco ( I googled her btw).
I have a tendency to think that this is not ALL the media's fault. I think to a point we all perpetuate the system of women being second class, not in all things anymore; sure we have jobs and mow lawns and shit but in the bigger picture we all do it. If a girl or woman doesn't mesh with the image of a lady who can do it all we see her as a failure. These days we think if you aren't a wife, mother , executive, exceptional baker , and top notch housekeeper you aren't trying hard enough. Why don't you have the ass of a 14 year old and 4 children at age 30? Well, clearly you haven't purchased enough face creams or done enough cleanses. You look bloated.
If these Feminists from days of yore hadn't gotten passive like myself , hadn't taken our place in the world for granted we may have been able to end this shit too, accepted people as people, some will be one way some will be another. Some will be women , some will stay girls; some will be boys who want to be girls and some will be girls who want to be boys. We need to protect and embrace these differences To me this is the new Feminism. Don't see your short haired friend who doesn't ever wear makeup as a "tomboy" she is just your short haired friend who doesn't wear makeup.
The same goes for your uber glam friend who loves makeup and wearing pink. She isn't a girly girl.
I may have gone off on a tangent but no one reads this anymore so idgaf.
I want to give praise where its due, there have been some amazing things happening with women out there, I am proud and excited for the next phase, hopefully things get even better for us.
I will wait lip gloss and drumsticks in hand trying to figure it all out.

I'm a man , you're a man

Fashion is a Passion

I have a problem, it may even be bad enough to be called a character flaw at this point.
I have a fondness for cheap clothes made for teenagers. Most of my clothes are made in Bangladesh or China. They are made of cheap fabric which doesn't wash well. They cannot be put in the dryer at all nor washed in water which temperature is above the freezing point.

There is almost always something about the garment that I don't like, and yet I buy it anyway.
I find myself persuading myself to buy these things, you almost have to talk yourself into it.
I will find a fabulous shirt , it will be a perfect shade of blue with charming gold buttons. The shirt will evoke images of a summer afternoon in the Hamptons. I will hold it up, and realize that it has a wonky hemline, or an unnecessary tie for your waist and I will think to myself " it is 2 for $20" or " I haven't ever had a shirt with a fully lace back" and sometimes " I would be an idiot to pass up this deal" and I will buy it. Just because.

Flash forward to a week later, after I've worn my brand new shirt one time without washing it. Laundry day , I will throw it in the wash , knowing full well my new cheap top needs special care.
I'll take it out of the washer and carefully hang it to dry.

To slip into a shirt that fit mere days ago only to find that it is now 3 sizes too small is a weird feeling.
How did it even get so wrinkly?

Is it even a deal? I don't think it is.

I know it's wrong to buy items manufactured under poor working conditions and unfair trade practises, and yet I choose to do it anyway.
It's just the way it is here, but I don't understand why.

So what if its half off? Half off of what? A price that has been inflated by 300%?
Why are we paying $60 for a top that costs 60 cents to make?

I'm done , sick of it all. I need to start my own fashion line...I also need to clear my closets of these yards of "polyester blend" nonsense.

If we stop buying it will they stop making it?

The Doyle Verdict

Travel Bug

I've travelled a lot in my almost 30 years of life, I even went so far as to actually move to a few of the places I've been.
I've seen a lot of things, travelled a lot of roads, flown in 37 planes,  and slept in a lot of rest station parking lots.
I've stood outside of a jiffy mart in the heart of Florida  at the tender age of 14 asking random older men to buy me and my friends booze and cigarettes.

Thinking back on that now, I wonder who the hell those old guys thought they were? How I always wound up finding them and getting them to do my bidding and somehow avoid getting murdered.
Not all of my time spent travelling around as a young lady had a seedy underbelly though.
I also got to see some amazing shit.The Bayou's of Louisiana, real life mirages in the Nevada Desert, Northern California,  Beautiful British Columbia; the list goes on and on. Sadly in those days, I only possessed throw away cameras, and we didn't feel the need to document ALL of the things.
I have a bunch of wonderful photos, and even more terrible photos from those days.
Perhaps one day I will digitize them and share them with the world.

I've been thinking about travelling a lot lately, for the last 5 years or so I purposefully didn't travel at all.
I had lived my formative years essentially on the road and I was so sick of moving around. Packing your stuff up after a few years or months can take a toll on a person.
Starting a new life or missing an old one isn't something someone should feel over and over again.
I had to settle down, I even yearned for it.

I got married bought a house and never looked back. I regretfully declined invitations to go away with friends.
I no longer stayed in touch with my far away friends. I didn't look at hotel deals or plane ticket steals online.
The thought of living out of a suitcase or packing up my flatiron annoyed me.
Trying to determine how the garbage would get out to the curb while I was away perplexed me.
It seemed unnecessary, the whole travel thing. Why bother really if you have it all and more in your little house?  Well that can only go on for so long, sooner or later you are going to get bored.

The past few months have killed me, my soul is feeling as grey as the sky this winter...that sounds so emo but it's how I feel. I'm not depressed or anything like that. I'm just so bored. The monotony has finally gotten to me. There is something to be said for that feeling that comes over you when you are laying eyes on a new landscape for the very first time. Around here I can tell time by the sun for crying out loud, even the shadows are familiar.

I need a trip, I gotta go, I gotta get out of here.
Plane train or automobile  
I'm not sure where or when, but soon.
I need to feel something new, something strange, something scary.
I need new places and faces.
 
If anything , maybe going out of town for a few days will remind me what I'm doing here in the first place.

Meh

 Tonight I thought it would be a good idea to log into my blog. Turns out logging in alone has been a ridiculous waste of my precious time.
It's been awhile I'll admit, but I couldn't even remember what e-mail address it was linked to.
I had to do one of those "captcha" things and send a password reset to my e-mail.
I then had to log into my e-mail account.
Little did I know I had also forgotten the password to my e-mail account. I answered a few skill testing questions and deciphered yet another "captcha" thinger and here we are.

I tried to do a manicure tonight. I went and spent a bunch of money at Shoppers Drug Mart.
I sat down with a bunch of TV to catch up on and meant to do a manicure. I pushed back my cuticles, I clipped and buffed. I used a base coat which I let dry and put on two coats of a nice pink colour called "sugar daddy" I let it sit and did a top coat and then...well then I got cold. I grabbed a velour blankie and curled up on the sofa with an episode of The Walking Dead.

I sat and watched, and when it was all over and I got up to turn on something else....and my nails were stuck to my blankie. They were unsalvageable.

I got out all the stuff and did it again. I removed my old nail polish which had cat hair and bits of blanket in it. I did my base coat and two coats of "sugar daddy" . I painstakingly applied my shiny top coat.

I sat and watched BoardWalk Empire. Wouldn't you know it.....I had to pee.
I tried to wiggle out of my pants....but they had a drawstring. I tried to pat dry...but I dropped the TP on the floor. I then had to struggle back into my pants.
Needless to say, my right hand looks like it was painted by a tasmanian devil..

I just don't care anymore. 

Palaver

listen to this 

or perhaps this:

Second Season

Who's ever heard of a drought in SouthWestern Ontario?
The summers of my childhood remind me of epic thunderstorms and sweater weather.
Blankets by the fire in the evening and space heaters in the trailer in July.

These days the grass underfoot is dry and lumpy, and the creek beds look like yesterdays whore.
It reminds me of last call at the bar, some asshole turns on the lights and all of a sudden you see how fucking pathetic it all is.
Garbage everywhere, people clinging desperately to the best view. Trying to argue their way to the front of the line.

Inside their sheetrock houses, tuned into the tube. Obsessive text messaging has become a sport.
No one remembers the peace in quiet. Crickets chirp on deaf ears.

The Blue Heron sees it all, from upon his perch he observes the decay. As the sewage treatment plant withers away at his environment he questions why with his sullen cry.

Nobody hears him. They are busy picking roses. So many roses this year due to the lack of rainy days.
The leaves look like shit, and the blooms are lacking in scent but this is the second season my friend.
Consider it a gift.
Relish in your riches and turn up the A/C, drive to the mall and pick up some scented candles, hunker down and microwave some popcorn.

Its time for a show.
 


Nothing make any sense....including me.

Bombay Beach

So I am currently watching a documentary called Bombay Beach, it's about this insane place in the US that epitomizes to me the entire US.
Once grand and plentiful, rife with life and happiness. A fleeting memory only recognizable by the faded beach umbrella full of holes and flapping in the wind,  the ever persistent sun rotting away at the outer flesh.
I have never been moved quite so much by the life of strangers. I watch a lot of documentaries, usually about 3 a week on varying subjects. I do this to learn and to entertain myself, and because regular TV is for the simple minded people I tend to avoid. I did not know what to expect this evening, had I known I may have changed into something a little more comfortable and grabbed a box of tissues.
I am blown away. the filming is exceptional, I am no critic as I have no credentials; but wow......
The raw emotion in each and every second, I have never seen anything like it.
Part of my emotional response to this movie may be coming from the fact that I can relate to the subjects of this doc.
I'm an orphan, of people who suffered from substance abuse...I was a weird kid who then moved to a desolate trailer park in the state of Florida and proceeded to do all the bad things I could.
I could have ended up in a place like Bombay Beach, easily.
Yet somehow due to an unexpected turn of events here I am living in well fed- well kept suburban Ontario, taking advantage of free health care and all the social services a lady could ever want.
I want to hug the kids in this movie, I want to embrace their creativity and feed them organic food.
I want for them to stop being a victim of the economy of their country and their income and I want them to stop being coerced by their doctors to take Rydaline for being weird in that environment...of course those kids are weird, have you looked around you?
A desolate ghost town in the middle of the desert with abandoned homes and bomb shelters.
unexploded ammo in their sandboxes.
I know worse things are happening in the world, but when I see it happening so close to home it's shameful. I feel shame for not making this stop. For having it so easy, for not helping these people to live a happy life.
Why would anyone move to the desert?
It's no place to raise a family.

http://vimeo.com/19572656

Find it online. The entire doc is available somewhere.

On the verge of summer

Hello again world! How ya doing? How have you been?
I've been great; I started boxing! Real boxing, in a dank basement with extremely questionable carpet and a plethora of sweaty people. It's been great really. I feel a little bit "Fight Club" most of the time. I almost bought a dove grey tracksuit and that song "Eye of the tiger" is at the top of my mind. Stairs aren't just stairs anymore but a potential victory platform from which to shout the name of my love.
Boxing has helped with my raging temper tantrums and I'm pretty proud of myself for trying this new thing.
It also can't hurt to train a little just in case the zombie apocalypse ends up happening. You can punch Zombies right?

Summer is here. I don't know what it is about summer that I love the most.
What jumps to mind would be the unexplainable nostalgic feeling which occurs when you feel a mild summer breeze against your bare legs. What is that? Why does a summer breeze make me feel like a young deer? Why does that make me feel like crying?
It's probably some weird PH balanced atmosphere scent recognition brain thing, triggering my long term memory, but it feels more like a celestial event where my soul is blown open by the scent of lilacs and afternoon rain.
I'm no scientist.

I mainly wanted to stop in to my blog to kill some time. Isn't that what this is all about anyway?
A moment in time, the ramblings of a satisfied suburban lady? I have nothing to complain about, no great tragedy, nothing to avenge. I'm happy and fed and healthy and strong......nothing to say yet always talking.
I wish people read this shit, I wish they replied, and talked about themselves and trolled me and whatever.....it would give me something to do while my husband is on the night shift.
In the meantime I will find something else to do with my time. Maybe I will finally clean out the closet in the guest room so I can feel as though I've accomplished something.
Maybe I will floss, people like that right?

Dead Celebrity Regrets

Can you imagine what it would be like to be a celebrity?
I know you've probably thought about it, we all have.

You probably picture having your own personal chef, a personal trainer and a personal assistant.
Basically its like everyone has one purpose in life....to be your "personal" whatever.
You can travel the world at the drop of  a hat...you never have to wake up early.
You can choose to wear nothing but sweatpants or have a "nip and tuck" whenever you have a bad day.

You are on top of the trends and you have all the best stuff and friends.
You know all the hip new stuff and party with people like Ed Norton or The Black Keys.
It's awesome right?
I can see you nodding now.

I don't know if you've ever paid attention to celebrity gossip blogs...
I must admit I have..but my intentions were good; I wanted to see pictures of dresses and shit.

Those poor girls. They literally berate them for having a misshapen bodice on a dress they had no part in the making of.
If they happen to be smiling too much or not enough, or if they have on clashy lipstick they begin to claim in the press that they are anorexic or self harming or whatever.

Why is that? wtf is wrong with all of us? Why is this obsession with celebs the new politics or the modern version of "staying up on current events" Why do more people know that Kim Kardashian is dating Kanye West than know about the recent freak tornado outbreak in Japan?

I clutch my pearls I tell you what.

The next time you read a celeb blogpost or see a check out counter magazine claiming someone fucked a hobo I dare you to pretend the story is about you.
Mentally superimpose your face onto that " bad beach body" and try to imagine what it would be like to piss in a gas station bathroom with a bunch of photographers screaming only feet away.

You may think twice about judging someone on their attire if anything.
You may even decide to start reading real news.

Balloon knot.

I realized the other day that I'm sick of being an asshole.
I'm sick of everyone being an asshole. I think we all need to pull the sticks out of our asses and man up.
Start working for number two. Start trying to make other people happy rather than ourselves.
It's really easy to only care about yourself, in fact it's instinctual.
Before this modern day and age, we would have fought with a dinosaur for a piece of flesh, but these days people will run over an old lady in some parking lot so they can pull into the car wash before someone else.
Seriously a fucking car wash. I will never understand why there are so many of them.
It's a car, not your cock; get over it.

I'm also pretty sick of people never taking responsibility for their actions.
I work at a job where I handle lots of billing issues. More specifically I handle complaints from grown damn adults who all of a sudden feel they don't have to pay their bills. They will ask me to waive their fees, and when I refuse they will say things like " I'm gonna go on the internet later and tell everyone about this" little do they know I'm on the fucking internet right now talking about it. Schmucks.
They threaten to file BBB complaints as if that will change the fact that they owe us money.
It's bat-shit crazy, and p.s just because I'm in the customer service industry does not mean you can intimidate me into doing whatever you want me to. You are no longer a paying customer, YOU defaulted on your contract NOT me, and I do actually care, I will help when I can; but has anyone ever told you that "you get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar' ?

*sigh*

That felt good.

Anyways it's christmas and if you don't celebrate CHRISTmas no worries, but you can't deny how special this time of year is.
If anything just remember Christmas can be a mind-fuck if you let it, you can either be the Grinch or Buddy the Elf.
This year I choose to be buddy, at least when I'm not at work.

12 hours is a long time eh?

Have you ever sat in the same spot for 12 hours?
Drinking copious amounts of coffee, staring intently at two computer screens?
Searching for things to distract you on the internet until your left eye begins to twitch and you start talking with a fake british accent?

Obviously you can probably tell that I have done all those things. I have, in fact done all the aforementioned things today.
I am happy to say that I survived the ordeal and I am richer for it.
That should come in handy during this corporate sponsored holiday season. Don't get me wrong I love Christmas and all, but have you been to the mall lately? Zombies I tell you...all of them!
It's like watching a gigantic swarm of sardines scattering from a shark only instead of swimming away the swarm is rushing toward the blue god, whose pointy teeth hide behind his freakishly yellow faced smile.

"Hey kids, wanna apply for a high interest rate credit card"?
"How about some GMO food"? "Try it I just know you'll love it".


Can you tell I have deep rooted loathing for a specific big box store?
I feel as though their prices are ridiculously low. Why would anyone expect to be able to get fist sized strawberries in Ontario in the middle of December? I don't really need that ya know? I especially don't need to eat food that was blasted with chemicals and handled by 10-15 underfed, underpaid workers. Shipped across a shit-ton of water and sold to me for a meagre $3.50 CAD.

I don't think I will ever fully understand how that whole system of "mine, now, cheap, plenty, consume now think later" actually works, but it has proven quite successful until  recently....more and more people are actually beginning to taste their food, because they have genetically modified the flavour out of life. I used to be clueless and trustworthy....and cheap. I have since realized that although I support the effort of Guatemalan 'Snuggie' manufacturer's. I think they should sell their stuff in a regulated market and be paid properly and I can go buy a Canadian made 'snuggie' at my local retailer.

Last Christmas I wrote a poem about Wal-Mart, it was pretty lame-o; as are most of the things I put up here. Someone is reading it though...I think....
Anybody out there? Can anybody feel me?


People actually behaved like this:

Facebook is so over

I'm going to post my pics here.....no one on Facebook cares anymore anyways.

 Just another lazy sunday in the basement, turning into reptile shapeshifters.

 That was way scary...now I'm bored.

Watch out for this guy here. He knows whats up.

The face says it all

Just another sunny sunday morning.

Kissy face.

Nothing compares to the feeling of a good heavy wool coat.

That moment where you remember why you married him.

It's Pyjama time

It turns out I can't spell pajama, my computer thinks it's pyjama. Whatev's.

I decided to come on here tonight because I can't find anything to entertain me.
I've come to the conclusion that I must entertain myself.
In this day and age where I have the world at my fingertips, where I am able to Google absolutely anything, I seem to have run out of things to look at.
What's up with that?
I often wonder if the Internet is too efficient, with every ad catered to my personal taste I will never be able to break out of the strangle hold the internet has on me.
I have practically seen it all to the point where I almost never LOL anymore.
Once you've seen one 'De-motivational' poster you've seen them all.
I continue to search though, I wan't to find the edge of the internet, that obscure place where giga-bytes go to die. The closet in the basement of the internet if you will.
I hope my Blog is that place. Full of wonder and dust.
I know people look at it, but I don't know what they read, or what they think when they read it.
Unfortunately my "readers" never leave comments. It feels like a stranger walked into your unlocked house, touched all your things and stole nothing.


Today everything that anyone besides me has said or done has made me go "Phsshhh" and roll my eyes.
I should probably work on that.
I wish I had time to draw a cartoon of myself doing something charming like when I fell off an exercise ball at work today but I have to go to bed soon.
It's F-F-F-Friday finally.
This Blog post has killed approximately 22 minutes.

Fashion is the best!

This evening I'm prepping for a Halloween party,  it's only two days away; it's a work related Halloween party, which could go one of two ways.
In scenario#1- I go to the work party-drink all the Stella's , and proceed to tell my co-workers all the tales of my wild youth, in a lame attempt to "put myself out there" with work people.
In scenario #2  I go - feel on edge the whole time , don't drink anything all night fidget with my costume and make-up and finish off the night by saying something incredibly bitchy without thinking.

Don't get me wrong I pretty much dig everyone I work with, but when I think about who I wan't to see me dressed in a slutty 1920's Flapper costume, swilling beers with the boys and so forth....I don't immediately think the people who I spend 40+hrs a week with.

Once they know my weakness....they will have the upper hand.
If I screw something up they will think I'm hung-over or if I empty my pockets on my desk and turn up 4 lighters and 6 beer caps they will think I'm drunk at work.  

You can probably understand how these things could cause problems.
My job is uber new, and I really like it, I want to keep this job.
I am job.

I have finally decided exactly what I will wear and how to style my hair.
I'm trying pin-curls now,  wanna see?

I'm not smiling which sucks, but I was trying to imagine what It felt like during Prohibition. The curls are still wet and need to set, and Im not really sure what will happen when I remove the bobby-pins. Hopefully it works out because it seems like it would be really fun to rock that look.

It's takes a really long time to set these whores...FYI.

Like a blur of dance

I look like a sweater.

Excelsior!!1

This is how I was greeted by my husband tonight, needless to say he's excited about the weekend.

I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, so I of course Googled that shit and I found this:

excelsior (uncountable)

1. An originally trademarked name for stuffing material (as for furniture and mattresses) made of slender, curled wood shavings, as a substitute for hair.  [quotations ▼]

and I was like, "so Chad.....how was work?" 

"meh" he replied storming around the kitchen his fist in the air: "EXCEEEELLSIOR"

I still wasn't satisfied, and I was too scared to ask him what he meant, so I Googled that search engine called Bing

and then I Bing 'd Excelsior and I got this:

Excelsior is a Latin and archaic English word meaning "ever higher".  Loftier, yet higher; ever upward.

I don't know what I would do without the Internet.

or husband's for that matter,

You know what they say, 

Husbands, can't live with them-

can't understand what they're saying half the Goddamn time.

Have a happy turkey day everybody

Lets talk about personal space, baby!

Let's talk about you and me, and how I would prefer if you don't touch me....

I really hope you read that in the tune of Salt & Peppa's big hit.

I hope you know what I meant as well.

I have a new job (yay) I love it, I am once again a functional, valuable member of society.
So functional in fact-that I haven't had time or energy to come on here and give ya' a piece of my mind!
Well, I'm back! I am FINALLY adjusting to my new schedule, and I have come to love my early mornings, up before the sun, I still have time to be lazy like before. I just lounge for shorter periods and less frequently .Overall it's been rather nice.

I do of course have some beef. Why else would I be blogging? I would like to take this opportunity to impart some wisdom on the people in my city (and others) that I have gleaned from being so reclusive and such for the last few months.

Being alone is great, we all love it.
When you're alone you can toot, scratch the inside of your nostril with a pen, or pick your ear and smell it with no objections. It has taken me some getting used to; being out in this big blue world again. I have had to remind myself that it's ok to talk to strangers, and after about a week I had to remind myself that it's ok to pretend to not speak english and bow your head to avoid eye-contact with those crazy bastards.
I feel sometimes like I'm living in a post-zombie apocalypse world.
It's a fucking zoo out there people.
I think most people have gotten so distracted by their hand-held computer worlds, that they have down right forgotten how to act.

Privacy means nothing anymore!
People have no shame bringing their cell-phones into the bathroom at work, tooting and tinkling away while they speak to their kids teachers about their painfully dull children.
On monday I was sitting next to a young man on the bus who actually lifted a butt-cheek (away from me) to squeeze out a toot! It gets worse, he was on his cell phone talking about a girl he fucked (loudly) while he did this.

Seriously.....I have no words.

It's bad enough that these types of people will constantly walk into you on the street, because they can't be bothered to observe their surroundings, but toots? On the bus? Honestly?
I understand sometimes they just fall out, and thats embarrassing, but to PUSH out a toot? On purpose?
For shame!  

I've also started to go to the gym a few times a week (yay) I usually attend group exercise classes.
I love the way I can just go there, do what they tell me to do, and get fit.
It takes the guess work out of exercise.
On the other hand, when I leave a group exercise class I always feel as though I should be tested for an STD or the bubonic plague.
Stop sweating on everything!
WTF?
In yoga class this week I actually saw a woman spread apart her....curtains, to scratch an obviously persistent itch. That is the shit you do on the couch. You don't do it on the bus, you don't do it at the gym, and you especially don't do it at your desk.
I would have thought that being constantly glued to a little camera would make people more aware of their actions.

I like to pretend Im about to have my picture taken at all times when Im out in public.
I learned this behaviour from having a Facebook.
It may seem shallow to some , but when was the last time anyone ever said to you,
"OMG did you see Trish the other night?, I think she has roids"

A little food for thought.
Or a little shit to go with your giggles.






and just for fun.....

Job Hunting Should Actually Include A Gun

Looking for a job  is the most degrading discouraging thing.
I have answered 700 questionares so far in the last week.
The job market around here is so competetive that they actually include trick questions

on job applications for a cashier job at a hardware store. Trick Questions!

Im pretty sure you just have to slide the bar code past the blinky light until the computer

tells you how much money it wants. I know their may be some challenges in the position of cashier,

I may forget to ask the customers for the money, but luckily most of them will have their wallets out already which will act as a visual clue for me to request payment for goods. Im pretty sure no one will ever ask me to answer a flipping riddle! Last time I checked service with a smile and a basic understanding of math was all it required to be a cashier. I will never understand these multiple choice questions for menial jobs. Do you really think Im going to answer the question : " I am often late" with strongly agree? How about " I will tell someone if they make me angry"? Who do they think they are? Therapists? Is this a Facebook personality test? When I've finished the questionare am I going to be a "Charlotte" or something?

The whole thing is outta hand.  Oh, and how about calling a cashier....well a cashier; not "customer experience executive" Tricksters I tell ya.

I guess I don't feel so bad for lying on my Resume.

 

 

Maybe In Another Life

I wish I was better at stuff, I really do.  More specifically, I wish I was better at  Laundry. Every now and again I will go for long periods of time without doing laundry. It sucks. I feel it may be the origin of my only shame. I have clothes in 3 different rooms in my house right now. It's chaos. Some of my clothes are in drawers, some are in hampers, some are on top of tables and dressers, and some are on the floor. It isn't only clothes either; I also have no clean towels. Luckily I only keep towels in one place, the Laundry-room.

My Laundry-room is pretty nice, I have a 2 yr old washer with a digital screen, and it plays a song when the load is done. I have no real reason to not do Laundry; my appliances work great, I have good soap, and yet I can't bring myself to progress past Level 2 of laundry day. For those that aren't familiar, Level 2 of laundry day is loading and turning on the dryer. I make it to this step with no roadblocks. The singsongy chime of my washing machine reminds me of clean clothes and I end up happily loading the dryer up with clothes and a hefty amount of dryer sheets. 

The problem lies within the wait time required to dry clothes. I end up doing something else, like writing profanities on T-shirts, drawing Groucho Marx eyebrows on my face , or sometimes if Im feeling extra industrious; other housework! My stupid dryer is pretty old. When Level 2 is complete I don't get a bright chirpy robot tune. I am instead alerted out of whatever daze Im in with a sharp harsh BZZZZZZZZZZZ.

If I make it into the Laundry-room, which is unlikely. I will load everything into a hamper and throw on some tunes to fold to. Tunes to fold to usually consist of hip swaying tunes. Think; 'The Supremes' or 50's Rock and Roll, or some Reggae even, I love listening to Miscellaneous Reggae from Internet Radio; when you don't know the songs it will all blend together as one song, and it feels as though you've found a way to stop time.

It is at this crucial time of Level 2 where I usually fail. I will neatly fold all the Laundry, place it gently back into the hamper, carry it back into the laundry room , set it atop the dryer, and there it will stay until all the things are ready to be washed again.  I spend my whole week getting dressed at the bottom of the stairs, peeling dryer sheets off my bare feet. It's pathetic. I have 2 Fucking closets in my bedroom!

I hope to one day Make it past Level 2 of laundry day. The elusive level 3 calls to me, makes me yearn for a simpler time, a time when someone else did all that stupid shit for me.

I don't know how I will overcome this deficiency in my character. I may recruit my husband to cheer me on during Level 2. He could throw out a few "hells yeah its laundry day baybee"'s. I may even try throwing away all my hampers so I have to carry all my clothes one by one upstairs to my bedroom closet. 

Perhaps I will outgrow my self diagnosed attention deficit disorder, maybe I will learn to love doing boring things someday. I can't be sure, but I have hope, and really isn't that all that matters?

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