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Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Harpo...who dis woman?

I'm going to have to put a disclaimer here before I begin: I intend to use a LOT of profanity in this post. Not because I'm unable to express myself in clean, PC fashion, but because I'm mad as hell and being all shiny happy people about it won't adequately get my point across.

There. Now we can begin.

*grabs bullhorn*

BASIC BITCHES ARE FUCKING IT UP FOR DECENT WOMEN.

Let me elaborate. I'm back in the dating pool (fun!! *sarcasm*). I am now forced to wade through the foolishness and bullshit thrown at me in an attempt to find a decent guy who's interested in a relationship. But the problem I (and many of my single acquaintances) seem to be having is, men don't even try anymore. I'm quite aware that there are countless women in this area who are interested in nothing more than the occasional roll in the hay...and there's nothing wrong with that (different strokes for different folks and all that jazz), but ALL women don't feel the same way. The real rub comes when you meet a guy and the last 10 women he'd dealt with have groomed him to think that taking a crass approach to pitching woo is not only acceptable, but cute. (wait...did I just say pitching woo? how old am I, 65?)

Fail. Epic even.

When I meet a guy and he turns to sex as the active topic of discussion within the first 15 minutes, my eyes glaze over. I swear to God, if I hear some variation of how sexy I am and how I can "get it" from some mouth-breather one more time, I'm going to snap and beat him with his own weak-ass game.

*breathe*

Ok, now that I feel slightly better...let me move on. Guys, we women like chivalry. That doesn't automatically mean you have to go bankrupt taking us out and buying us useless crap in order to seal the deal. Really...not all of us are that dumb and materialistic. You can make it rain? Guess what...I have a job, so can I. I'll be impressed when you can make it thunderstorm. But if a woman says she's NOT looking for just another FWB...that's what that means. Don't think that you're special and you're gonna change her mind, you're not. You stand a better chance of making yourself look like a complete jackass.

And what is the deal with guys asking to come to your house 15 minutes after you begin an initial conversation? Are women in this area really that careless with their safety? Are they really that hard-up for some male attention? A guy sent me a message on some site I joined the other day and asked for my messenger id. Harmless enough, so I replied back with the info and told him I'd be looking forward to chatting and getting to know him a little better. So there we are on yahoo, just getting acquainted, when out of left field the sentence of doom is dropped: "You're really beautiful, I'd love to meet you. Can I come over?"

O_o

This conversation took place at 1:30am. Like the fuck I'm gonna invite you over to my place at almost 2am to "meet". Really? That's how folks end up on milk cartons. Don't sell me the bullshit when I have cows at home. I declined, feigned exhaustion after a long workday and said goodnight in short order (of course he offered to come give me a "massage" to relieve some of that workday stress *eyeroll*). I erased his info before he even had time to send me an email chock full of sexual innuendo and horrible spelling and grammar (sidenote: that shit really chaps my ass. How can you be over the age of 21 and "u wana spel lyke dis"? What the bloody hell is wrong with properly spelling things? I don't want you to sound like you didn't pay attention in grade school, that shit aint cute, ugh! /end rant)

Men: do better. Please.

*drops mic*

Pins and Needles - Billy Talent

What I'm listening to right now...


Sweet Minty Jesus, it's Christmas

It's that special time of year again...the snow is falling (wait, no it's not, it just rained)...the family is near (wait, no they aren't, it's just me and my mom this year...and she's driving me nuts)...the presents are under the tree (wait, no they aren't, there is no spoon tree and I received no presents)...and I'm cuddling with my sweetheart by the fire (wait, does a commitment-phobe who really doesn't like me that much count? No? And swing and a miss).

*Sigh* 

It's Christmas again...and I feel like crying again. Not because I'm alone (that commitment-phobe doesn't count and I'm not going to lie to myself and say he does, he's just a band-aid on a stab wound...and he'll be tossed out in the NYD garbage like the empty bottle of whatever I'll be drinking because I'm not moving into a new year with folks who really aren't here for me) and not because I didn't get any gifts, but just because it doesn't really feel like Christmas. I tried listening to some music, but that didn't really help. My mother is driving me to drink, but like the idiot I am, I didn't stock up on proper hard liquor before stores closed on Christmas eve...so I'm drowning myself in wine and (yuck) beer. 

Well, I have one thing to be grateful for this year: at least I don't feel like slitting my wrists the right way, so I guess that's an improvement from 2011. Still, is it bad that I was a tad disappointed the world didn't end on 12/21? It is? Meh...I don't give a shit. I'm also proud of myself for not vomiting my sadness all over fb this holiday season...no need to ruin the good cheer of those who haven't hidden me in their newsfeed yet. Oh...and I had to feign absolute joy with the "surprise" (note: yeah right, attention whores) engagements and baby announcements on fb all day (welp, that's six more people I'm hiding from my timeline...me and my missing uterus don't give a single solitary fuck about your pregnancy, congrats, have fun with that).

Next week is NYE...I'm going to the annual NYE BADASS rave up in Baltimore. I'd hoped I wouldn't have to go alone, but ye ole commitment-phobe is refusing to say he's definitely coming or not, so I purchased a single ticket and told him if he didn't want to come, it was no big deal and I'd just go alone (note: it is a big deal and that was a test...and he failed...quelle surprise). I was so excited when he professed his love for EDM, I thought it would mean more of a chance to do things together that we both enjoyed, but alas, no. Oh well...but I'm holding out hope, maybe I'll meet a really nice guy at this party and start the new year on a high note instead of a lonely drive home while crying at the tatters of my life...one can dream right? Please? Anyone? Bueller? 

Also, I miss my dog...like a lot. I can't wait for him to come home. At least that's one male in my life who loves me unconditionally. And on that note, I need a drink because that's probably the most pathetically sad thought to ever cross my mind.

*drops mic*

Saturday, June 23, 2012

The Raver's Manifesto

I didn't write this, but I love the message...enjoy:)

Our emotional state of choice is Ecstasy. Our nourishment of choice is Love. Our addiction of choice is Technology. Our religion of choice is Music. Our currency of choice is Knowledge. Our politics of choice is None. Our society of choice is utopian though we know it will never be. You may hate us. You may dismiss us. You may misunderstand us. You may be unaware of our existence. We can only hope you do not care to judge us, because we would never judge you. We are not criminals. We are not disillusioned. We are not drug addicts. We are not naive children. We are one massive, global, tribal village that transcends man-made law, physical geography, and time itself. 

We are The Massive. 
One Massive. 

We were first drawn by the sound. From far away, the thunderous, muffled, echoing beat was comparable to a mother’s heart soothing a child in her womb of concrete, steel, and electrical wiring. We were drawn back into this womb, and there, in the heat, dampness, and darkness of it, we came to accept that we are all the same. We came to accept that we are all equal.

Not only to the darkness, and to ourselves, but to the very music slamming into us and passing through our souls: we are all equal. And somewhere around 35Hz we could feel the hand of God at our backs, pushing us forward, pushing us to push ourselves to strengthen our minds, our bodies, and our spirits. Pushing us to turn to the person beside us to join hands and uplift them by sharing the uncontrollable joy we felt from creating this magical bubble that can, for one evening, protect us from the horrors, atrocities, and pollution of the outside world. It is in that very instant, with these very realizations that each of us was truly born. We continue to pack our bodies into clubs, or warehouses, or buildings you’ve abandoned and left for naught, and we bring life to them for one night. Strong, throbbing, vibrant life in its purest, most intense, most hedonistic form. In these makeshift spaces, we seek to shed ourselves of the burden of uncertainty for a future you have been unable to stabilize and secure for us.

We seek to relinquish our inhibitions, and free ourselves from the shackles and restraints you’ve put on us for your own peace of mind. We seek to re-write the programming that you have tried to indoctrinate us with since the moment we were born. Programming that tells us to hate, that tells us to judge, that tells us to stuff ourselves into the nearest and most convenient pigeonhole possible. Programming that even tells us to climb ladders for you, jump through hoops, and run through mazes and on hamster wheels. Programming that tells us to eat from the shiny silver spoon you are trying to feed us with, instead of nourish ourselves with our own capable hands. Programming that tells us to close our minds, instead of open them. Until the sun rises to burn our eyes by revealing the dystopian reality of the world you’ve created for us, we dance fiercely with our brothers and sisters in celebration of our life, of our culture, and of the values we believe in:

Peace, Love, Freedom, Tolerance, Unity,
Harmony, Expression, Responsibility and Respect.

Our enemy of choice is Ignorance. Our weapon of choice is Information. Our crime of choice is breaking and challenging whatever laws you feel you need to put in place to stop us from celebrating our existence. But know that while you may shut down any given party, on any given night, in any given city, in any given country or continent on this beautiful planet, you can never shut down the entire party. You don’t have access to that switch, no matter what you may think.

The music will never stop.

The heartbeat will never fade.

The party will never end.

I am a Raver, and this is my Manifesto.

#PLUR


Thursday, March 1, 2012

It's time...

I want to get a new tattoo, a sleeve, but I'm teetering on the edge of that notion...but I want one really bad. I love my cancer ribbon, but the moment my artist was done, I knew it was just a tad too low on my arm. So I'd like to build around it. I've said in the past that I'd never get one because I can't wear an evening gown and still look classy...but that's what Dermablend is for. ;)


I've been researching half-sleeves. I'm not crazy enough to jump in the deep end and get a full sleeve yet, but by the time I retire, I'd like to have my arm covered from shoulder to wrist. 


Now the question becomes...what to get? Where to start? Aaaargh! And that's where I lose focus and start procrastinating. Also, some tattoos hurt...like a lot. The one on my shoulder blade felt like death becomes me (funny how the person's name that is inked there hurt me more than that tattoo ever could, but whatever). I'm a baby when it comes to pain, yes the girl who's had enough surgery to earn a hospital punch-card doesn't like pain or needles, so I know it's going to take a while to get this art project done. 


I have a hazy idea of what I'd like it to eventually look like. There's a website where folks will give you ideas and designs, so maybe I'll upload my cancer ribbon with a note saying to start there. 


Also...how will mommie dearest react? Oh who am I kidding? She finds a way to complain about everything I do, I'd get it to annoy her just for shits and giggles. My bosses are cool, but they may only be cool with the ribbon showing considering I lived through that shit.


Meh...I'm steadily loafing on this idea, but by the end of the year, I'll have made a bit of progress...;)


*drops mic*

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Pardon me, but did you know you're an alcoholic?

So my mother told me she was worried I was turning into an alcoholic the other day, to which I replied (quite sarcastically): "I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a drunk...alcoholics go to meetings."

She did not see the humor in that statement.

I tried to explain to her my sleep issues, the horrendous derailment of my life and the thoughts in my head that are slowly driving me mad. Thoughts that only the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods can temporarily kill, but she said I should try therapy instead. No thanks, booze is cheaper. Anyway, I thought I'd post a drink/shot recipe and a song everyday this month (I know, I'm running behind already...natch). Because really, what's the point in hating life while sober?

'Tis the season to be merry...oh wait, that was last month. ;)

Well, let me kick off this madness with something I could desperately use. I give you the...

Mind Eraser
1-1/4 ounce Coffee Liqueur
3/4 ounce Vodka
Splash Club Soda
Build over ice.  Serve with a straw.

Yes...a straw (I don't fuckin' know whose idea it was either, but I'm gonna attempt to do this when I get home).

I'm actually in a half-decent mood today, so I'll accompany this little doozy with a song I'm loving right now. I give you...

Slumber - Original Mix
Steve Forte feat. Lindsey Ray
Tiesto - Club Life

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Christmas Time Is Here...

...and I'm spending it alone...again.

*sigh*

Well, I'm not on the verge of offing myself, so I guess that's an improvement from last year. Heh. 

I think I may go the George Costanza route and celebrate Festivus with an airing of grievances. At least my puppy can't destroy a metal pole, Lord knows I know better than to attempt to erect an actual Christmas tree with ornaments and tinsel and whatnot for him to jump into and chew up.

I'm not going back to Vegas either, I basically splurged my entire Christmas bonus last year for that trip and while fun, totally not worth the headache of being broke in January.

This year I'm going to rave as much as possible. I just went to Fall Massive the Saturday following Thanksgiving and had a blast (seriously, I haven't felt so much like my old self since my life took a nosedive into the darkest pits of hell). 

I'm planning on going to a NYE rave up in Bmore and I'm trying to find stuff to attend before then. I really only feel like the old me when I'm raving. Maybe it's the music, maybe it's the crowd (hell, maybe it's the happy pills), or maybe some combination of all three. But whatever it is, it's good therapy. I forget all my troubles for a few blessed hours, I love myself again, and I remember the person I used to be. It's been so long since I've been the old me and it's refreshing to see the effect I have on my fellow ravers (I am a love magnet...I had several people come up to me at Massive to say they loved me and give me a hug---and a few free drinks, tee-hee--all the while ignoring the people I was with until I turned to them to make an introduction). 

A dear friend of mine once told me that my mood makes the party, that folks feel like smiling when they see me smiling and the fact that I'm happy seems to make things that much better (and for the record, he was sober when he said this lol). That's not me being conceited, but sometimes I notice how the room changes with my mood. Kind of bittersweet, I don't always feel like being happy and sometimes I really resent how my friends take offense to me not wanting to be bubbly all the damn time. I'm a person dammit! My life sucks sometimes...let me be upset for five minutes before I revert to fucking entertaining you!

Oy...things need to start looking up or I need to be raving every weekend because I can't do another year in this rut...I just can't. If I find myself in this same position another year from now, no amount of booze or pills will save me from myself, I'm tired.

I leave you with my new favorite DJ, Skrillex...the name of this track is so apropos right now.

*drops mic*


Monday, August 1, 2011

Ink blot...

I love tattoos.

My ink is an expression of the essence of who I am.

Ok, that sounded a little extra...but you get what I'm saying, right? I love the body art I have and I chose each piece carefully.

I never understood why some people are so against tattoos (religious reasons excluded). I get that too many on a woman can look trashy, but still, ink can be so beautiful if done correctly. I wish I could get a sleeve, they're so intricate and the good ones show the true care and creativity of the artist who put it on you. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, I'd still like to be able to wear an evening gown one day without looking like a billboard in east LA after Cinco de Mayo), I can't get one myself. Not just because of the aforementioned plans of going somewhere nice enough that I'd like to look like the lady my mother raised me to be, but Corporate America doesn't take too kindly to art you can't cover up (and long sleeved blouses 365 days a year is not an option)...plus, I hate pain, like A LOT. So, I'm content with the three pieces I have now.

But oh do I wish I could get something fantastic going down my left arm...

random poem

what is this place that we find ourselves in
floating on a thought of what could've been
unsure of our footing
lost in the abyss of normality and the mundane
searching for a new tomorrow
a fresh start
hope for the end of the lonely nights
faith in a brighter day

yeah...maybe next lifetime.



Saturday, June 4, 2011

DONE.

I'm so done with people. Period. Friends are for the birds, people only give a shit about you when you can be of assistance to them. It's all good though, it's nice to finally see where everyone stands. I'm about to fall off the cliff and the darkness is terrifying...and I don't have any way to prevent it. But it's ok, I'll be ok, that's what everyone says all the time. But you know what? I'm tired, I'm beaten and I don't have any any fight left in me...and I don't need anyone's damn pity about it. This blog is just a tool to get my feelings off my chest, I don't want anyone to think that I'm looking for pity. Fuck pity. Pity aint never put a roof over my head. I'm so tired...I wish I could take a vacation from reality.

*drops mic*