Drinking from the poison cup since 1998…
*I_hate_everyone.com
*No good in your goodbying.com
*Just say no to men and chocolate.com
*I act immature and I am immature.com
*Don’t tell me I look like a real woman.com
*Smart girlz media.com
*Rawr sigh and blah.com
*Gettin even avec la men.com
Like most writers, I’m really quite fascinated with myself. And I’ve toyed with the idea of writing some sort of auto-biography which adequately depicts my emotional, physical and spiritual trials and tribulations.
I know you’d all just die to read to it.
Although i haven’t worked out the details, I’ve created an outline that I’d like to share with all of you. Please feel free to amend this literary skeleton, as it is a work in progress.
Part 1: I was born in a small town to small town parents. I lived in the meandering drudgery of mid-western existence. As I am an extremely interesting person, and extremely interesting people do no often thrive in such limited circumstances, I fought my way out…due on to my tenacity, vivaciousness and…the fact that no one really wanted me there anyway.
Yadda yadda, blah blah blah…what’s in the middle doesn’t really matter…yadda yadda yadda.
Part 25: Like most truly delicate flowers, I cannot bare the hardship of this cruel world. After many failed relationships, I decide to retreat into a world akin to that of my predecessor, J.D. Salinger. I come out of my house only to get my daily paper, I never give interviews. None of my cats will even talk to me anymore. Occasionally they appear on Oprah, detailing their tragic mistreatment by a woman consumed with the pursuit of do-it-yourself blogger fame.
I’m thinking parts 2-24 should incorporate just about every minute and tedious aspect of my very existence. The time I wore mismatching socks in the 7th grade, the bad haircut I received my junior year of college, and the rather lackluster report card I got in graduate school. In addition I’d like to personally attack every man I’ve ever dated–not because they deserve it–but rather, to add more “color” to an anthology that may or may not be filled with unsubstantiated heresy, half-truths and conjecture.
I’ve really got this bio thing down, don’t you think?
Today a little boy ran up to me while I was on my walk and said, “My name is Charlie. And you’re beautiful.”
Thanks, Charlie.
Luv*
*Cute aphorism for liking someone or wanting to get on their good side. Usually used on IM, cell phones and facebook/myspace/friendster posts. Not, as commonly thought, synonymous with a sickening, unhealthy obsession (love) which is usually only used while in bed.
I wrote this in an email (this was before myspace, kids) to one of my friends in 2003:
So, according to People magazine Talan from everyone’s favorite shallow pit of hell, Laguna Beach, is now engaged to marry everyone’s favorite nobody daughter of used-to-be-somebody Rod Stewart, Kimberly. The only claim to fame that I recall Miss K having is that she called Jen Aniston ugly last summer. Funny, I don’t really think anybody with Rod Stewart’s genetic code floating around in their DNA should be calling anybody else an Uggmo.
Anyway, the article in People goes on to say that Talan speaks highly of Kim, telling one of his friends: “I like hanging out with her. She is fun.” Unfortunately, he does not himself possess the capacity to highly speak. I, for one, hope to someday spend the rest of my natural life with someone who I really like to “hang” with and who I think is f-u-n.
It also says that Talan excels at volleyball, football, and surfing. Also, he has a new record that he is working on. Perhaps the lyrics to one of his songs will be about Kim: “Oh Kim/you are fun and phat/but not obese/because I wouldn’t like that/Oh Kim.” Or perhaps, he will just burp the alphabet for three minutes in 12 different tones to compile a 12 song album dedicated to his 2006 Pontiac SUV.
This is why I love Capitalism: Only the strongest, most capable individuals can make it in our rogue individualism, cut-throat society.
Oh wait.
Paul: You have a boyfriend?
Me: Yeah…
Paul: Wait. YOU have a boyfriend?
Me: Um. Yeah.
Paul: Is this some kind of ploy to make men find you more attractive? You know, the “want what I can’t have” scenario….
Me: No.
Paul: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, Paul. Because, you know, I’ve decided to revise my other ploy-being a pudgy, pale, cynical, smartass. In spite of its success, I’m not adverse to change.
P: I had a dream that the girl I am dating was a snake and wanted to eat me.
Me: And then what did you do?
P: I woke up and I was sweating.
Me: Hmm.
P: But later that day she called me.
Me: And?
P: Well, I kind of like snakes, you know?
Me: Yeah, sure.
The most common pickup line (it’s more of a paragraph really) I get from men is this:
“You know, what I like about you is how natural you are. Not a lot of make up, not a lot of fuss. Most men wouldn’t notice how attractive you are but I do. But, you know, I’m not like other men. I’m really more of an artist, a deep soul.”
I’ve started responding with this:
“Actually, a lot of men notice how attractive I am. And they all use that line.”
P, the ever self-searching friend that I, in spite of my better efforts to rid myself of him, have and continue to aid in relationship advice is still dating a girl whom he is terrified of dating.
Make sense? No, not really. But that’s the way it goes.
Today he emailed me:
“I’m not sure if I can do this, I can’t live with her I can’t live without her. What’s wrong with me?”
Because I have been doing research on a particular subject (commitment phobia) for my own personal reasons, I respond with this:
“Have you ever thought you might have some kind of problem? Here is an excerpt from an article I read, hope this helps.
Commitment phobia, real commitment phobia, not the kind that people refer to when they are dumping someone they don’t really like, is a paralyzing fear of being with someone whom you actually care for. In fact, the greater you care for the person the more paralyzing the fear can be. The physical symptoms are similar to other phobias like claustrophobia and arachnophobia, and manifest themselves as panic attacks or almost panic attacks. Oftentimes, people who are commitment phobic will sabotage their most promising and satisfying relationships simply because the fear of becoming attached to or losing that person becomes too great. If commitment phobics go untreated, they may end up alone or with someone who they are not terribly satisfied with, because they view relationships like these as “easy.”
P responded with a shocked:
“What the hell am I supposed to do then?”
On the other end of my computer I can imagine his wide eyes and terrified expression, because I’ve seen it many times before.
Being ever helpful, I respond with this:
Uh, sucks to be you?
