Ask me if I care

| Tuesday, May 26, 2009

There are so many professionals in this world who professionally look like they are busy 100% of the time. I've only succeeded 80% of this. I've got a lot of learning to do.


I'm trying to recall the accounts of the weekend...let us begin with Friday, the 22nd of May.

Time is relative. So lets just say it was the afternoon. A college friend of mine picked me up from the train station and went back to his place to eat a little and watch a movie. Before the movie we waited for a 3rd to arrive. My Irish Princess and drinking buddy. We watched John Carpenters "The Thing" until another appeared and watched the remainder of the film. Shooting the shit as usual, we waited for another until we headed to the bar.

The night started out slow, but I began hard with Southern Comfort and Coke. Then a Malibu and Cranberry. Then 2 beers, Bacardi and Coke, and another beer. Oh and a free shot from a 30-something old chap with male pattern baldness who was happy to treat us all to J├Ągermeister to celebrate his birthday and our acquaintance (I assume). The night ended nicely, I sobered up the old fashion way with a romp in the bed with my future significant other at his place. I dare to say that it was the most fun I have had in a long time? Dare I say.



I recall little things from the night, I will gather them in list form.

* Donald Sutherland played in a movie called "1900" or "Novecento" where he head-butts a Communist kitty.
* I made out with my drinking buddy for $1 (I didn't forget this, I just didn't mention it above)
* I smoked more than I have ever socially smoked in one sitting, this was elevated due to the fact we were on a patio drinking. Best thing to ever happen to me.

That's all really from that day, I was just so happy to be with my friends. To drink and have a good time like we used to.



The Weekend:
These days were full of sleeping and drinking. Other activities occurred but I prefer not to mention what they were.



Memorial Day, Coming back Home:
My mother called me "weird" and "a stranger". They're both true. Then again, how else am I going to say how you look in those shoes? I'm not a husband, I'm a daughter. A 23 and a half year old woman who doesn't like to be interrogated about clothes upon returning from my friends and boyfriend. People who entertain me, people who make me happy in this life. I have no privacy so it's left under the assumption I like to be bothered every moment of the day when I step foot in the house.

I was born into a life of no privacy. Now I yearn for it. More than you could ever imagine. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.


Unleash Hell :-P

This gets a little weird

| Thursday, May 21, 2009

I'm having a "Grinds My Gears" moment. In my office, a commercial (in mute) aired. It was about preventing forest fires. Of course Smokey the Bear was in it. And it occurred to me (as I'm sure many, many times before) that Smokey the Bear wears pants.

:-O WAHHH!




You mean to tell me a bear wearing Big and Tall brand Wrangler jeans with a Champaine Felt hat and a shovel is trolling around the forest to catch your ass in the act of a pyrotechnic EPIC FAIL? I don't know why people haven't gotten the point up to this day that a semi-clothed hairy mammal is on the look out for people who don't uphold on the law in the woods, obviously where he shits. So I guess that's more than means to protect it.

I for one would not start any kind of fire in the woods because I live in Brooklyn.

The matter that grinds my gears is that HE CARRIES A FUCKING SHOVEL! How does that not up the ante on the threat level that's already proposed? "If you DON'T prevent forest fires, I'm going to bludgeon your skull into mush and bury you in the forest that you just tired to burn to the ground with your battery operated hot-plate."

Sometimes, it's better not to think of such things.

And just set the fucker on fire like Chucky and get the hell out of dodge!





Unleash hell :-P

Could it be?

| Wednesday, May 13, 2009

I don't really have much to say today.

I have grown an unhealthy obsession with the song "Rocky Raccoon" from The Beatles. I love the lyrics and the old timey harmony on the piano.

I love something else too. I prefer not to say...it at first annoyed me but then, then everything went in slow motion when the song came on. I admire the fact that we have to be out of our own subconscious to be happy, to feel alive. I dislike what toll it takes.

Just for fun. Really.