Wednesday, September 15, 2010

I'd like to buy a vowel.

I realize its been a month since I've written but alas here I am. I will admit I stopped momentarily because of some negative feedback from a few douchers but I got over it and here I am. Much like my family has dealt with me, I cant allow some morons to make me stop doing what I enjoy. Anyhoot, I want to discuss the ever important topic of getting a hint.

I think its quite sad that a girl cant go out for a drink these days without being hit on by some sort of creature. Man, woman or human has yet to be determined. I ventured out recently to simply enjoy my Coors Light, because really after a few days without mama gets cranky. I wear my best baggy jeans, tank top, flip flops, muffin top and a hoodie that says "Drink Up Bitches". Clearly I'm looking to land Mr.Right. I'm also sporting my Coach version of my Alan satchel and my hair is in a messy birds nest. Straight sexy. I go to my Cheer's watering hole order my beer and sit back. The bar is pretty much empty and I prefer it that way. Being a weeknight and all I assume I'm safe from all male attacks. I look through the paper as any girl would in a bar and sit like a man with my legs half open to let the balls breathe.

I chit chat and bullshit with the other two patrons in the bar and amid my comments involving the words Cock, Fucker and Giants, I seem to have made a fan. This one dude, who is dressed to disco all night, decides it is wise to try and flirt with me. As if my belching and complete disregard for anything he said wasn't a turn off enough, he decides to now move his location to one directly next to me. Awesome. Just what I wanted to be bothered by someone I have no interest in speaking to on a sober basis.

This gentleperson, as I will call him, assuming I'm Italian asks me all sorts of questions about my cooking skills. Can I make pasta? No. Can I make sausage? No. Can I make sauce? No. Can I care less about this conversation and really need a shot? Yes. I decide to end the suffering by telling him I'm Puerto Rican, which I have learned can be quite the disappointment in my neighborhood. Hoping to receive the response of "Oh wow really? (Insert sad face)" I was received with a "Mmm my weakness". I immediately think, Fuck. Now I have to move on the bigger guns. He then says "You look Italian though". So of course my response is "I'm the whitest Spanish man you will ever meet in your life". Zing. Boom....Or so I thought.

Before he leaves, and moments before I was ready to take my drink in a to go cup, he asks for my number. Which of course I wanted to respond with, I only communicate through homing pigeons, I responded with a "I'm seeing someone I can't". Now let me ask, if a girl who you want to speak to doesn't a-make eye contact...b-ignores you...c-belches like a man...d-talks about how she loves home depot and most importantly e-dressed like she didn't give a fuck, why oh why would you still think its open game?? Aside from yelling Hi I'm a possible Coors Light dependant and I can't talk because my blood stream needs to absorb this wonderfulness to bring me back to a tolerable stage, what else could I have done to make myself less appealing??

I would think all the hints I so clearly threw out there would have been picked up on but no. If I don't smile its not because I'm mad, its because faking a smile takes way too much effort on my part and the only thing my lips want to do is make out with my beer bottle. I'm not upset or cranky from anything that occurred earlier in the night, its because you my gentleperson, are annoying me and I can't find an appropriate exit. If I'm dressed like I don't care its because I don't. If I tell you I like to do manly things and act like a construction worker it's because I'm trying to disgust you. If I follow up a belch with a "Ohhh yeah good one" instead of a "Opps excuse me", I'm clearly trying to make myself as unattractive as humanly possible. If all of this does not register into a "Wow shes gross" then I can't help you sir. And if you are still wanting to ask for my number then you need professional help or a prostitute.

Sometimes girls just want to go out and enjoy a drink without having to do our hair or put on make-up. Sometimes we just want to sit back and relax and talk with friends. Newsflash, it isn't always about meeting a guy or hooking up. Sometimes mama had a bad day and needs a lil Coors Light loving without you eye fucking me every five minutes.

Moral of my story, get a hint bro. Buy a vowel, pass go and find the nearest exit. Do whatever you need to do to let it register that No I don't want a shot, No I don't care to see you with your shirt off, No I don't need to you to buy my beer. If I have ignored 90% of anything to come out of your mouth, done everything but scratch my balls, then understand that I am not interested. Unless your family owns a beer distributing company or your family business involves Vodka, have a goodnight and move on.

Ahh well now that I have let that out, I will bid you adieu. Buenos Noches Bitches.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

This is my Nightmare.

For the 5 of you who actually read my blogs, I apologize for the lapse in writing. Rest assured, the sweats and night tremors will stop now that you are reading this. (Or just begin, depending on what you take away from my blogs) So I want to re-cap an evening I experienced recently where I went out to an unnamed establishment (totally not bay ridge...cough cough) where I realized how much of an old lady I really am.

I walked in like any other evening anticipating my Coors Light fix. The place was packed and being that my focus was on the delicious beer I couldn't wait to taste, I didn't notice the clientele surrounding me. I get my beer, take a refreshing gulp, release an "ahhhhh yeah", wipe my chin (like any lady would) and look around. That's when I saw it. Fetus upon fetus all over the place. Everyone I looked at seemed younger than the one before. I think one guy even had remnants of his umbilical cord still attached. I was curious to see if he had an outie or an innie but I digress.

The girls were disastrous. Tiny little whores all over the place. Some girls were so overly tanned it made my Irish friend look exotic. It was like Umpa lumpas on ecstasy. I had never seen so many children in one place outside of a day school. The music was blasting and kids were fist pumping and jumping around with so much intensity that their baby teeth were flying all over the place. It was becoming dangerous. I wondered if they had just started putting Similac on tap because this many mistakes in one night was alarming.

I couldn't hear myself think let alone talk to my friend about an escape route. I don't know if it was shock or curiosity that kept me there but I couldn't take my eyes off the whole scene. I positioned myself safely in the corner for fear of the temper tantrums that would erupt simultaneously once they realized the kitchen stopped serving animal crackers after 2. I wondered when I had entered crazy town but I was anxious to hop on the next train out of there.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse that's when it happened. The DJ starting playing Jump Around by House of Pain and after removing her pacifier one fetus said to another, "Omg this is the song I was telling you about that just came out, its amazing." My mouth dropped open from shock. I felt a wave of age hitting me. My wrinkles never felt so alive as they did at that moment. I could feel the gray hair setting in. I had to get out of there and fast. Before the phrase "Damn kids these days" could escape from my lips I grabbed my Irish companion and bolted. As I ran out I could hear the baby teeth crushing under my feet. The smell of baby powder and Balmex was so intoxicating I almost didn't make it to the door.

Once outside I took in a deep breath and let out a huge sigh of relief. Somehow the babies could sense my fear and a few came outside and busted out their candy cigarettes. When I realized they posed no threat I calmed down. I dusted off the baby powder residue, wiped away the drops of Similac on my arm and made my way to a bar where adults hung out. My grey hair turned back to black, my wrinkles receded and my sanity came back. I am not an old biddy by any means but when you think an iconic song from the 90s is a new release my osteoporosis suddenly kicks in. I'm grateful I got out when I did, if not I would have shriveled up into dust.

Moral of my story.....fetuses scare me. They are powerful beings when they converge into groups. Surrounding yourself with them will case extreme aging and depletion of brain cells. To my fellow 25 and over peeps, watch your back. They come out when you least expect it and they will turn what should have been a booze fix into a run for your youth.

Needless to say I have since enrolled in therapy. The nightmares have subsided but I can only pray that my experience with these newborns is a one time deal. Good luck and be safe, its dangerous out there.

Friday, August 6, 2010

National Give Out a Mirror Day

True story. I'm out with my best friend and we see what can only be described as a new unidentified mammal species of some sort. This creature/mutant was pushing a stroller wearing chocolate brown leggings, to the point that her ass was eating them, a tight leopard print top ( I believe- Jen correct me here if I'm wrong) and some other atrocity on top of it. I have to ask, do people just refuse to own or even look in a mirror before leaving their house? I mean really people, when your ass is literally taking a bite out of your pants there is a problem there. Especially when you are a size 14 and your clothes were bought in baby Gap.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for girls of all sizes wearing cute things but please for the sake of my eyes and my stomach wear the correct size!! Just because you have skinner legs than the 300 pounds of gut resting on top of it does not mean you can wear pants that are a size 2 and a top that is so tight the stitching's are screaming to keep it together. Sadly this is an all too common sight.

If your buttons are the only thing between you wearing a shirt or starting a strip show please rethink it. Its called double sided tape fyi. I understand that we all want to wear a small, or not have to be judged when we are in the fitting room and have to yell out, "Hey can you please get me the pants in the hefty section" Trust me, I get it. I just don't understand why some girls think yes I will wear leggings and a top so small it could belong to my barbie. I want my ass crack to look like its a piranha just chomping at my pants. Yes, the bigger the muffin top the better and lets not forget about the massive camel toe. Sexxayyy. Not.

Muffin tops are NOT an accessory. It's not sexy or appealing. Being a muffin top owner myself I fully understand how hard it can be to keep that baby under wraps but I manage. Go the next size up, and if it bothers you that much cut out the label. Would I love to wear skinny jeans and a cut off top, hell yeaz, do you see me doing it, hell nahhzz. Reason being, I own a mirror. I am fully aware of all the meat I gotta control before I walk out the house. Let me tell you, it aint easy. Sometimes I gotta bust out aerobic moves just to get my pants zipped, nah mean kid?? Word.

Dress for the body you have not the one you want. Plain and simple. If you don't care about how you look can you at least have some concern for the people who have to look at you? I mean without warning it can really turn a good lunch into a splatter on the street. Clearly that is just a waste of what once was a good meal. Do I then have the right to charge you for not only my lunch but for the eye surgery I will need to get that burnt image out? I think not. Straight inconsiderate.

If your worried that guys will judge you because your wearing "big girl" clothes think again. When a guy is getting down to the bizz-nass he could care less what size your pants are. Just as long as they end up on the floor. If it's already gotten to the point where you are getting some, I'm sure he has a good idea of what he is working with. Big or small. But when he has to bust out the jaws of life to just get your painted on pants out of your ass, its not worth the poke anymore. Instant penile death. On a side note also, just because your boobs grow with you doesn't not mean you have big boobs. You have fat boobs. Totally different. So wearing a corset because you listened to the salesgirl who lied and said "Yes the small will shrink your waist and hide your stomach and make your boobs look great" just makes you look like a fatty stuffed into a way too tiny corset with her fat ass titties flopping all around. Here's a thought, buy it in your size. Wow what a revelation! You will look so much better and probably be able to breathe.

I wear what fits because I try to keep the rolls and jiggle at a minimum and I would greatly appreciate for all of you who don't, please start.

In the words of Shanaynay.."You look toe up from da flo up make me wanna cha-row up""

Thank You.




Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Russian Roulette

:: Take a breathe, take it deep ::
:: "Calm yourself" He says to me ::
:: If you play, you play for keeps ::
:: Take the gun and count to three ::
:: I'm sweating now, moving slow ::
:: No time to think, my turn to go::

:: As my life flashes before my eyes ::
:: I'm wondering will I ever see another sunrise? ::
:: So many won't get the chance to say goodbye ::
:: But it's too late to think of the value of my life ::

- Rihanna Russian Roulette

I love this song because it expresses so much without saying much. It reminds of when your in that place where everything is crashing down around you and there is no silver lining. When you can't imagine how to move on or how you got there. Your totally fucked and there is not a damn thing you can do about it. You feel like your life is over. Somehow you have to slam through whatever weighs down on you and find some release. At that point though you just don't care anymore. That's a place I'm all too familiar with.

I've been told that I'm cold, secretive and untrustworthy. Maybe I am, but shutting down is not a means of weakness its a means of self preservation. If my heart is cold then I can't be burnt by warmth. Not sharing aspects of your life isn't being secretive, it's being protective. As far as untrustworthy, that depends on who you ask I guess.

I've been told, "I feel like I don't even know who you are". That's probably because you never really knew who I was from the beginning. Always in the shadows, seen but not recognized. When someone is down, when they are struggling and going through hard times, you don't beat them. You either make it better or do nothing. Constant berating just makes it impossible to see that there is something better ahead. The reason I keep things to myself is for two main reasons, 1-I don't want the pity and 2-I don't want to be judged or scolded. If this makes me cold and unrecognizable then so be it. I'll wear that badge proudly.

I wont say I have it all figured out and I will admit I've made mistakes but at the end of the day I'm a human being. No better and no worse than any of you. Things could always be worse, I could lose at Russian Roulette.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

its all Guava baby

Robert Miles, Children. Need I say more. If you don't know what I'm talking about google it. For those of you who do know, this was the 1st song I fell in love with. I became obsessed with the electronic beats. Thus began my love of house music. Somewhere deep inside me is a little guidette fist pumping away. Probably Snooki size. I love house music more than most people know. Next to watching Matlock, its my favorite thing to do. (Confusing image isn't it? lol)


There are other things about myself that most people don't know. Not creepy dark secrets but little normal things. For instance, I keep a leash in my car in the event I see a lost dog I can bring him or her home. (Yeah I'm nice like that) I can only clean while listening to Spanish music. I know how to Salsa and scrub the toilet at the same time while making rice. (okay its microwaveable rice but nonetheless its still rice) Talent. BOOM!.


I always make the sign of the cross when passing a Church, cemetery,ambulances, firetrucks and police cars. When I stop short I stretch my arm across my passenger in the event they are pushed forward. I realize I come across tough and hard, but under that exterior is just a girl. More normal and day to day than people tend to think. I wear makeup, love shoes, have tons of accessories and bags. There is something about the comfort of sweats though that always seems to win when the getting dressed decision is occurring.



I'm a nerd at heart. I read everyday and love finding new books. I keep every book I get, I can never go to the library because once I fall in love with it I re-read it all the time. I still have the 1st book I fell in love with and I read it at least once a year. I cry at any sad move involving animals. I was quite a site during Eight Below and Hachi. I will only watch these movies alone because I will not be ridiculed when I am already in deep emotional distress. Whenever that commercial comes on for the ASPCA with Sarah Mclauchlan's song I immediately change the channel. Too hardcore for me. I have an image to uphold here people.





I am a fierce protector for the people I love. Try and harm my loved ones and your done bro. I may not win but I'll fight to the best ability I have, whether that means verbally attacking you or running you over in my car. Just saying. Loyalty is precious to me. Not many people have it anymore, which is sad, but I hold it dear. Anyone who really knows me totally understands this. For people to who don't or haven't taken the time to look past what I may seem like, your loss.



I love warmth and closeness even though I generally keep people at arms length. I am bruised but not broken. I've had my share of heartaches and losses and I'm sure more are to come but I look forward to whatever happiness and goodness will come as well. Things happen for a reason and I don't think we are meant to deal with anything we can't handle. I don't mean to get all Yoda on your ass but you know what I'm talking about.



Let me close with the real important stuff. My favorite candy is Snickers, I love blue ice-pops, Malta is the shit, red is my favorite color and I love sculptures of elephants. So if you happen to ever come across these items hit a lady up.



Till next time my little monsters...Yeah thats right, she stole it from ME!


Thursday, July 29, 2010

Just call me Helen

An oldie but a goodie...

Written a few years back after a not so good "break-up". I read it and now find it quite amusing, lets see what you think. (not that I really care but since your reading this why not pretend like your important right?....I'm so nice)

Men need to learn to choose their words wisely. If they don't it could haunt them forever. Like as in your first born being a girl. That's the Lords way of saying Ha, take that sucker! They think they can talk to you however they want without repercussion as if they run the show. Sometimes their words can hurt, sting and burn. Other times it can make butterflies flutter around in my stomach. Sometimes it can even make me sick to my stomach. To the men in my life who use words without thought, without concern or any brain cells for that matter, I have one response. One simple well thought and planned...Go Fuck Yourself.

I don't care how casual a relationship is there is one line that never gets crossed. Respect. Telling me to go call one of my other boys or telling me some bullshit excuse as to why you stood me up or even the lame ass "It's only you" line, yeah that's a total violation of my respect. (Hello run-on sentence..I digress, back to man hating)

Do you honestly think I believe it when you tell me that you had to work late? Do you think that in a neighborhood where news travels faster than Superman on steroids that I don't know that you were out with someone else? Do you think I really believe your cell phone died? Please bro. I'm convinced there is some secret group that wrangles you all up as small boys and trains you to think that we actually believe your lying bullshit. It probably even teaches you the crap to say. At the very least please be original. Fake a sickness or lie about a fictitious relative dying. Something bro, c'mon keep a girl on her toes. If we are doomed to play this game at least make it interesting. Hearing the same bullshit lines over and over can really drain a girl.

Even the things you say while dating are lame. "I respect you too much to do that"..."I got forced into going out with the boys, it's my co-workers last day"..."I did call, your phone must not be working"..."I don't get service where I was"..."I love you"....Blasphemy!!! My all time favorite is when they post things on Facebook or MySpace like we suddenly lost the ability to read. Amazing. I'm sorry sir but unless my name is Helen Keller I'm fully aware of whats going on in your posts and/or comments (that you make public might I add) and what pictures you are tagged in. I see the visit to Grandma's somehow took a drastic turn when you ended up at the Jersey Shore fist pumping away. She must be one feisty old brawd. If you want to be a player, then be one, but please don't think that because you apparently have a limited use of your brain that I do as well. Not only can I read (omg shocker!!) but I can hear and see too. Whoa did I just shatter everything you thought was real?? So here's hoping that you come up with a better game for the next one. I'm calling quits. I win, you lose.

Well now that I feel all warm and cozy inside from this touching tale of love I will bid you adieu.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Reflections of a Bitch

Last night, in a bored daze, I decided to look through some of my old journals and see what I was thinking back in the days. Apparently it was pretty much the same shit I think now. There are a a few things that are heartbroken and heart-open related (yeah I just made that up).

I want to share something I wrote back in 2006.

You stand before God and your family preaching honest love and life. Your halo shines so bright, your wings so glorious it almost hides your horns. As you spit your hypocrisies I see you. I see the devil is disguise, a true bitch in her real form. A faker, a phony, an unhappy and disheartened being. Had I only been so wise as to discover your trickery long ago I could have avoided your negative Karma. Your evil rays pour down on me, your eyes so filled with envy I can only feel sorry for you. To be true to oneself is closest to God that you can be. To live in a mirage is torture. You think because you go to Church and pretend to live well that you have everyone fooled. Remember that God sees all. A selected few down here can see beyond your glow to the inferno that burns within.

You always claimed to be just like me, but you could never be anything like me. I am who I am good and bad. I don't conform and I don't back down. I bleed for what I believe in and I live for me. I glow because I radiate realness. I don't claim to be an angel or spend my Sundays at church when every Saturday is spent laying under some fool. I'm a sinner in the truest of forms. God knows my sins, he sees my pain and sees my strength. He knows I'm true to myself and that Jezebel you could never be. What you do to others in life will reflect upon you. I suffer now to live better later, you will suffer later for your wickedness. Good luck and may God be with you, because you will need it.

I wrote this after the ending of a friendship. Someone who claimed to be my "sister" and "best friend" ended up turning on me like I was a total stranger. Moral of the story is you can be heartbroken not only by a man but by friends too. I think the pain of that can be worse.

I believe that there is no such thing as a soul mate. There is no one person made completely to match me. I believe that you fall in love once. I'm talking head over heels hardcore in love. After that you can love someone else but it will never be the same. This person you love and marry will be a great match but you will have things that are lacking. I believe that's where your friends come in. I have been lucky enough in life to be blessed with three sisters. You know who you are. They are my other half of the equation. So ladies please don't put all your stock into your man and leave your friends because when he isn't enough, and he never will be, what will you be left with?

Ladies, value your friends. Don't betray and hold on to your loyalties. For those of us who have already been hurt, keep moving forward. Your real friends never leave, never hurt and always pick up the pieces. That girl I was friends with that betrayed me I have one more thing to say to her... Thank you. Thanks for the friendship we had and thanks for opening my eyes when you did. I don't think I could be who I am now without you showing me that even the nicest people can be true scumbags.

Well that's all for now folks....

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

A Glimpse

I'm going to do something a little different here. Most of my writings, not just including what I put on here, are about my luck with men...cough, cough....or dripping with my sarcastic view on life. I will still infuse that into this but with everything going on right now I just kind of need to vent.

I am living with a full plate right now. I'm talking two eat for the price of one coupon at Sizzler full plate. Family crapola, work crapola, living in Calcutta crapola and anything good in my life I have managed to fuck up because really what else could I do with it. Aside from writing, I paint to get my mind clear. Not some Picasso stuff because I can barely draw a straight line, but some Bob Villa HGTV house painting. Clearly I am a man. My mom must be so proud of her dike daughter. Hand me a drill a beer and some overalls and you'd think I'm the next Mike Holmes. Hott.

I tend to take the compounding pressures around me and place it on something so insignificant and make a mountain out of a mole hill when there was no mole hill in the first place. Being neurotic is a gift apparently. Hmmm and I wonder why I'm single. Not that this happens often but nonetheless it's not fun when it does. I tend to push people away that I actually want close in my life. I guess it aint easy being a crank ass. Nah mean???......Word.

Hopefully my mood or circumstances change quickly. If not I will ride it out and continue to paint and write, although some people (not mentioning names) think that because I paint in my house I'm having a mental breakdown. Totally not true bro. That's why I drink. Hello, get with the program.

For my friends I apologize for any craziness or stupid things I may have recently done or said. It comes from a full plate thats constantly giving me gas pains, so every now and then I may let a little something out, just dont take it personal. For everyone else, suck it and get over it.

Thanks, Home Depot awaits.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Pets or Men?

I am a self admitted animal lover. I have always had pets and most likely always will. I currently am a proud mama of two cats, Edward and Bella. They are my little babies and I take care of them better than I do myself at times. They are cute, furry and all around adorable.



There also always seems to be a man in my life. The man will change in time, the level of importance will change as well but nonetheless, a man always seems to be around. This man isn't always taken care of by me or cute and adorable. Sometimes I pray he will leave my life and other times I wish he would be closer. (For you slow people by "man" I mean all men..Thanks)



I used to say that I would rather be around animals all day than people, because animals can't talk. They love unconditionally and aren't evil. Now I wonder, what's better having a boyfriend or having pets??

When you think about it, its almost the same. I'll use Edward and Bella to explain. Edward, like some men I've known, is quiet, strong, sweet and cuddly. He also is scared of everything and pretends to be tough but we both know a centipede could kick his ass. He is all looks and sad to report, not much going on upstairs. This is what my friends and I refer as the "Your so pretty" syndrome. Do you know how many men I've dealt with who also suffer from this syndrome? The statistics are saddening.

Bella, on the other hand, is small, loud, crazy, very good looking but an all around trouble maker. She drives me crazy but then knows how to butter me up so I let her sleep in my bed. Do I even need to say how many times I've had some dude do that to me?? Again the statistics are saddening.

When you have a man, you tend to clean up after him. He comes over, takes a shower and leaves his dirty clothes on the floor. He leaves his used dishes on the table, he doesn't make the bed in the morning and never makes enough coffee for the both of us. Bastard. Like men, my cats make messes all time. They spill the water bowl, move my rugs all around the house, knock down towels, and open my cabinets for shits and giggles. Even in the bathroom they are the same, they go in do their business and walk out without so much as a spritz of lysol, I walk in and BOOM...smacked in the face with the aroma of a rotting intestine. Fucking rude.

Like my cats, some men are hairy, have bad breath, toe nails that could use some attention, and pretend like they dont hear you when you call their name. Both fart and then look at you surprised like hmm what was that. I will however say that there are certain things a man can do that clearly no pet can. And I don't care how much peanut butter you put on yourself, its not the same...(joking ppl joking....sick freaks) Of course I am referring to taking out the trash, putting gas in my car or serving me a drink when I am simply too lazy to get off the couch.

Weighing both pro's and con's for cats and men alike I must rule that for me, cats are wayyy better than a boyfriend. They don't talk, you can say whatever you want to them and they won't judge you or hold it against you. I can come home with a new cat and they will still love me and never leave. They are grateful for all the little things I do. They are always home before me, sleep in my bed every night, and I have no worries about stray street cats creeping. They don't complain and most importantly they don't lie or play head games. It is exactly what it is with them. Cute, cuddly, playful and unconditional love 24/7. No surprises or wondering if its real.
And I know what your thinking, wow this bitch is bitter. Well, Damn Fucking Skippy. Herrrrooo I've been dating since I was 16 I'm exhausted already.

Moral of my story, Cats are cool Men are Lame. Thank you.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Best Day Ever

As many of my mornings begin I log onto facebook and read people's status updates and check my phone for the text messages I have received from people informing/bitching to me about their day and life. For a moment, I pretend to be interested and respond with the scripted "Omg really?" or "Why, what's wrong?". Clearly I could care less but because I am nice, as many of us are,we would rather pretend to care than to tell you the truth of No one gives a fuck.

Sometimes it would be nice to not see people's status updates of "I am so depressed I want to die" or "I love him/her so much, my life is full". I understand that facebook is quite narcissistic because really who gives a rat's ass that you went to the store and what you want for lunch. Yet, here we all are adding our own status updates that probably annoy a few people on a daily basis.

With this said, I wish there was one day a year in which you are allowed to say and do whatever you wanted without repercussion to whomever you felt like. I would trade in Christmas morning and my birthday for this one day. A day I have aptly named, The Best Day Ever.

The Best Day Ever would go something like this...

AM- I wake up and my cell has two text messages:

Text 1- "Hey omg let me tell you about the crazy shit that went down on the train, I saw your ex with this girl. Shes like to total opposite of you"

Text 2- "My boyfriend dumped me, HELP!"

Now on a normal day I would have responded to Text 1- "Ugh, I don't even care he's so not worth it". Text 2 would have went something like, "Its okay hes a jerk, I will be at your house with movies and ice cream and we can talk all about it!" BUT..since its The Best Day Ever, my responses would go something like this...

Text 1- "Good Morning to you too Bitch, nice way to fuck up my day. I hope you get fired, whore".

Text 2- "You really think I'm going to sit here and listen to you cry about your boyfriend leaving when I can't even get a guy to call me back. Bitch please. Man up and bang his best friend, I could care less, whore".

Normally I would have severed friendships but on this one glorious day its okay because it will all be forgotten by tomorrow. YAY!! This can even be used at the workplace. Like when your boss asks if you don't mind working late and you can totally say "Yeah sure no problem dick I want nothing more than to not go home and sleep and do your work because your an overpaid monkey in a suit who spends way too much time licking the CEO's ass and playing with the secretary's tits". Ahhh the sweet release of truth.

I am generally not a person who holds back but sometimes there are things that I feel just can't be said. So Jesus, the real one not my brother, if you are hearing my little prayers please allot me just one day in the whole year to speak my mind fully. To perhaps actually smack the bitch who doesn't bring her Ezpass and yet drives into the Ezpass lane and causes a delay. To have the courage to tell people, No your baby isn't cute. It looks like an old decrepit man on his death bed. To be able to say, No I don't like that as a matter of fact. Your penis is small, your skills are unfortunate and your rocking boobs bro. To be free enough to declare, Yes you look fat, No you can't skip me in the line because you have one thing, Hell no your not the best I ever had and Yes he did it better.

It's not much to ask right? A guilt free day of pure honesty deep from within my cold dark dark heart. And by guilt free I mean guilt free for me. Another person's pain sounds like a personal problem. I'll be marking down the days on my 2010 NYC Fireman's Calendar (rawwwrrrr) until I get a sign that this day is meant to be. In the event it doesn't happen, I genuinely care about all your problems and concerns and enjoy discussing them in great detail on a daily basis.

Thank You.

Stop n Shop Horror

Okay so picture this....Staten Island, 2010 (yeah thats right, totally Sophia Petrillo stye) I am entering Stop & Shop, my local grocery store, with my list in hand and coupons ready to go. I don't need much really because well I live alone and how much can one girl possibly eat? (And this is the part where you think, well with an ass as big as hers I'm sure she can pack it in. FYI, I am mentally calling you an asshole right now)



So I grab a cart and make my rounds. It's crowded and I'm tired, just recovered from some stomach virus I had (thanks, and you know who you are!) My plan is to grab what I need from the list and get out as quickly as possible. As I zoom through the aisles I come down the pet food/supply aisle and see a sign marked "Friskies Moist Cat Food, 10 for $3" So of course I go nuts and buy 30 of them. Keep in mind the following items were already in my cart:

-lactaid milk (yes I am lactose intolerant)
-2 loaves of bread (buy one get one deal..sweet)
-water
-24 pounds of litter
-Stouffers lasagna serving for 1

So I go the the register and without really looking start placing my items on that belt thingy to be scanned and I hear, "Natalie"......I look up in horror to see that my ex from high school was in line in front of me. Also keep in mind that I am wearing black velour pants, grey flip flops and a black t-shirt that says "X-Rated Adults Only" in big red letters. I havent done laundry and well its all that was clean. Dont judge.

On a normal day I wouldn't care if I saw my ex from high school because really, we dated for a few months and I was like 16 but I think it was the combo of my bad outfit, unkempt hair, and product choices that made the image all that much better. He said how are you doing? I said ummmm great thanks, as I'm pulling out the 30 cans of cat food, my lactaid and my loser meal for one. He then proceeded to pay and leave, in shock and horror of how I have turned out and most likely thrilled to have dodged that bullet. I'm sure there was that sensation of "Damn I feel bad for whoever she's with now".....Awesome.

Sometimes it takes the littlest things to make you see how truly crazy and weird you seem to others. No matter how many times I go food shopping or how well someone knows me, anytime I step into the supermarket and only need a few items and they consist of lactaid, cat litter, cat food and a frozen meal I am doomed to be judged as a lonely spinster with a dozen cats who has an issue with diarrhea. Sweet life.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Why I HATE Dating

They are many things I absolutely HATE in life. In case you didn't know I am also known as Bitter Betty. My nicknames rock. Any hoot, I fucking HATE HATE HATE dating. It's bullshit. While I most recently went on a date that I didn't manage to totally fuck up, for the most part I'm a walking disaster. Although he did fall asleep for most of the date, it was definitely one of the better ones. Don't judge me.

It' like an interview, trying to impress this person in a weak attempt for approval. Please like me mister, I'm lonely and getting old and don't want my parents to think I just have angry spite sex with drunken fools at the bar. (Totally true but not the point) I would rather go to the gynecologist on a daily basis and be prodded by strangers than sit down to a formal dinner. Well if you add a bar and some Jager bombs I guess I'm already living that life. Ahh but I digress.

I think there should be some sort of bullshit decoder that only girls can see to tell if they are wasting their time or not. For example, do you remember the VH1 show Pop-up Videos? Classic I know. Now imagine you are on a date and while sipping some gay wine, because you really wanted a Coors Light but didn't want to out man his vino, he says "I can't put my finger on it, but there is something about you I really like." Like magic a thought bubble pops up next to his head translating the true meaning of his words into "Keep drinking bitch I'm going to stick it in your ass."

With this type of information you now have the power to make an informed decision. Run or stop off at CVS after dinner for some KY. I wish more guys were just honest. Taking me to dinner in the hopes of getting laid is just a waste of time for both of us. The whole time your wondering if you gave yourself razor burn for nothing and I'm wondering what to eat that won't give me gas. Do I get the steak with mushrooms and wild rice with a side of broccoli or some gay salad? Do I pretend I don't want an appetizer and dessert because 1- I don't know if you brought a credit card or even own one and 2- I don't have the patience to pick my teeth in the bathroom after. The fact that I only have 20 bucks in my purse and I don't want to end up washing dishes is also a factor I take highly into consideration.

So after an awkward dinner, taking each bite meticulously as to not spill it all over yourself, the check comes. Now I have to do the fake reach for my purse bit. So unnecessary, like come on bro pay for my meal lets get this cracking. Chances are I haven't eaten to my satisfaction because I'm sweating the whole time out of nervousness and I need to get home before Burger King closes. I'm also disturbingly sober because while I want to down a bottle or two of your homo vino, I don't because this is Applebees not after hours. Yeah I get the red carpet treatment bitches.

I'm a pretty confident girl but when it comes to dating I'm the female Rain Man. If it can be fucked up I will find the way to do it. People always say "Just be yourself" . Yeah shut the fuck up morons!! If I acted like myself it would go something like this...

Random Dude: "You look really pretty"
Me: "Yeah I just took what I found in the bottom of the hamper and Febrezed it but thanks"

Random Dude: "I never cheat"
Me: "Cocccckkkk"

Awkward Silence...............

Now if that doesn't scream take me home to mommy I don't know what does. I mean really, I'm fucking classy.

Well folks this is why I hate dating. It's a sweaty uncomfortable mess without having to use a wipe up rag after.

Welcome

My 1st blog. yay. Insert enthusiasm here....

I am starting this blog to vent, clear my mind, and hopefully meet people who have lives a lot more fucked up than I do. Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Natalie aka Guava otherwise known as The Black Sheep. I'm 27, technically unemployed, single and I live alone with my 2 cats. Fucking hott. I am an aspiring writer, mainly a mix of sarcastic comedy with deep emotional undertones. I'll wait while you process all of this.

I am of course single by choice. (Tears flowing immensely, snorting and heaving to ensue shortly) I am most likely single because I love to belch, drink beer, curse like a sailor, have an obscene obsession with the word "Cock", I dress like a dike, love orange men with steroid addictions and did I mention I'm unemployed and have 2 cats? Sexaayyy. Single men please stop knocking down my door.

I used to work for a stock company so I'm not a total moron but I'm sure many would argue otherwise. I don't have a normal 9-5 anymore which in the beginning was great but now it's verging on insanity or a mass suicide of me and my cats. Don't go calling the cops now, I'm just saying.

I'm the middle child, somewhere between Jesus and Omega. I am sure I disappoint my family on a daily basis, so that's sweet. I mean how can you compete with the Lord our Savior and the best Dominican rapper of all time. I was kind of fucked at birth. Thanks Mom.

Well in a nutshell, this is me and if you haven't fallen asleep stay tuned. I may suck more than I do now!