I Could Use A Wish Right Now

I Just Want To Say Anything...

2011-10-21T23:21:00.004-06:00

So, I thought it would be cute to mix some coconut flavored tequila with a nondiet coke and act like it didn't really do anything to make me feel...different. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm drunk because I just tried to explain haunted house pricing to my mom and I could barely talk and I actually slurred a few words. I sounded just like my dad. I've realized that you can type perfectly normal while hammered. It's just a bit harder. Like, I'm misspelling words, but luckily, I have that red little wiggly line to remind me that I'm fucking up, so it's just taking longer than usual to type. I'm also just realizing that I don't really have anything to say, and that I keep skipping letters or spelling things backwards, lol. So there...if not for that add-on with the spelling, this post would be fucked.

So...there was something I wanted to talk about but I forgot while editing my words. I'm thinking about it now, so let me have some time. Damn...my head is really spinning. I don't think I've ever been drunk like this. It just sort snuck up on me and blalow! I actually feel kind of sick.

I seriously can't remember what I wanted to blog about today. It was something really good, too. Fuck. Oh well, I'll try tomorrow.

Long Time, No Post, How about a Rumor?

2011-10-17T23:17:00.005-06:00

I just read one of those stupid blind items on some gossip site, and here is an item that was of some interest:

This A++ list rap star who has been quiet of late is not only hooked on heroin, but also has hepatitis. Hopefully that is all he has since he keeps having unprotected sex with as many fans a day as he can.

Now, most of you guys know that I just simply love Eminem. We have our ups and downs, but until the last sentence of that blind, my fuckin heart was pounding out of my chest. Let's just look at some of the evidence that I feel sort of points in the direction of Eminem being sick and on the fuckin horse.

1. Skinny, skinny, fuckin skinny.
I'm not going to post pictures because you guys already know what I'm talking about. He's a fuckin toothpick nowadays and hula hoops with a gnat cervix for cardio, so don't try to say he's buff because he's fucking not. The dude snacks on sugar free red bull and almonds...

2. Jaundice skin
Eminem looks a bit sunny. That's all. And the whole reason why he looks normal during the Cypher was because it was shot in black and white. This was done to hide his yellow skin. Poor dude.

3. Abdominal pains, nausea
This explains why he's sort of lost his dancing ability. It's kind of hard to be peppy during a performance when your stomach is hurting and you feel like barfing every five minutes. Also, notice how Eminem has been shouting and rapping a lot faster lately. Well, if I had to throw to up, I'd rap as fast as I could to get through the song before I blew chunks in Royce's mouth. Also, this explains why he wouldn't kiss Rihanna. Poor guy. There's also a blurb about your shit being the color of cola, and Eminem does drink diet coke, so I can only relate his obsession with that pop to to color of his shit. Makes sense, really.

4. Sleep issues, confusion.
Dude was popping ambien like tic tacs because he couldn't sleep. Well, hep C fucks up your sleeping schedule while also making you tired at the same time. I don't even know what that means but it sounds fucked up. As for the confusion part, watch that youtube interview with Royce. Yeah, he didn't know what the fuck was going on, there.

5. Fluid retention

6. Needles
Eminem has a lot of fucking tattoos. Like, a lot. And he was drunk/high while he got a lot of them, so we don't really know for sure if one night his artist was a bitter ICP fan and fucked him over with the gift that keeps on giving. :(

7. Methadone.
Eminem acts like he just sort of fell into taking methadone. BULLSHIT! Dude was on heroin and was probably switching to methadone when he was too fucked up to shoot up at the end of the day. I don't really know anything about drugs, so I feel like in my mind, this makes sense as well. My neighbor was a real estate queen who very functional, yet was practically swimming in heroin. I remember she had to go on methadone to treat her withdrawal symptoms from heroin, so that's my only experience with it. And from some movie I watched, I saw that heroin addicts like chocolate, and M&Ms have chocolate in them so I feel validated by that.

This blind is definitely about Lil Wayne, though. Just based on the last sentence.

But altogether, this is most likely 50 Cent.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha

2010-11-16T14:40:00.002-07:00

I quit my job and they really thought I was sad. Those were tears of joy! Joy! Joy! I cannot express how happy I am right now. A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I feel like dancing. No more dirty bills, nasty members, and filthy old men trying to touch my hand.

Glomming onto MY talent...

2010-09-29T16:34:00.004-06:00

I don't even know if "glomming" is a word, but I was watching Josie and the Pussycats and this saying arose during a fight between the Pussettes and I related it to a current dilemma I've found myself trapped into. I am a college graduate, with a degree from a prestigious university in a field that presently has nothing to do with my current occupation. It's a horrible predicament I'm in because I cannot find anything interesting about my job, and it's been tough coming into work everyday, knowing that I have more education than the people I work with, yet make the least money. Not to mention the fact that they treat ME like I'm the biggest idiot that works there.

Well excuse me for knowing that there's really no future in banking once ATMs, Online Bill Pay and Online Banking take over. I mean, the only demographic really keeping tellers in a job are the old rich bastards who are too obsolete to use a computer and feel that it's necessary for us to still go over their account history in detail with them. Um...it's called a statement, dinosaur...

So I'm always on the lookout for a job that relates closer to my field, but in the meantime, I'm realistic about my situation and the fact that I have bills to pay, so I deal with it for the time being.

But my friend, who just graduated with a degree in a major completely different than mine, now wants to know if there are any openings at my branch. She's my closest friend, and we have a great time together, but there has always been this hidden tension between us, due to the fact that I received a full ride scholarship to go to my school, while she did not. I guess she always felt that we were equals, when we really weren't, in everything, including academics. I was always that nerdy girl who got straight A's from 5th grade, all the way through graduating from college, for the most part (fucking college science killed me with my first ever "C". I'm still recovering) and when we met in high school, she was just an average student.

My teachers all loved me, and so whenever someone hung out with me, they received that benefit of the doubt from my teachers as well. So when I got an "A" on an assignment, whoever was my closest friend at the time, would receive nearly the same grade. I always hated this, because bullies would become my best friend really quick when a project or group test was approaching.

To make a long story short(actually not, because I talk a lot), this girl started thinking that she was actually a top notch student, when she really wasn't, and also started thinking that whatever I did, she had to do because she was so sure that she would succeed as well. Well, we applied for the same scholarship, which was a two-year ass-kissing program that basically weeded out all of the students who didn't have the commitment to go to every meeting and seminar they threw at us, until there were only a few left to interview. I was determined to go to college, so when it came time to write a personal statement, I wrote mine in about 20 minutes during a brainstorming session at one of those meetings, and was told by my team leader that I basically had nothing to worry about because I was a great writer ("was" being the keyword, lol). My 20 minute off-the-done rant of an essay, got me accepted into every school I applied for, plus a waiving of the college application fees, along with scholarships. At the time, I was never one to boast about anything because I truly never thought that I was that special. But looking back on it, dammit, I was awesome and I should have embraced it more.

Well, my friend struggled to write her personal statement. She had rough drafts, which were corrected over and over and over by team leaders and peers, and even family. I think it took her weeks to finish her essay. And she then applied for all of the same universities as me, of course. I think she got into all of them, but had to pay some of the college application fees, which confused her because she's the same person as me, right? Lol. Um...my family was technically living in poverty at the time, so my income qualified me for a lot of benefits that I desperately needed, and she never understood that aspect. Like when we found out our EFCs(expected family contribution) , which is basically the amount, based on your income, that you would have to pay out of pocket to go to college, she got upset because she found out that my EFC was $0, and hers was almost $1500. Really? You're jealous of a poor person? Wow, "friend."

So, finally, after all of the applications, and scholarship meetings, we were both chosen for the final interview that would decide if we would receive a full ride scholarship. During my interview, we laughed, cried, and I ended up interviewing my interviewers and we actually used more than the allotted time for the interview. It was awesome. For her interview, she was told that not everyone would get the scholarship. Well, I believe it was because she told them she wanted to pursue acting and arts, and I told them that the scholarship would be a great opportunity for me to contribute to my community through being a lawyer, doctor or businesswoman, which they ate up, lol. I got the scholarship, and she didn't. And she was upset and didn't understand why we both didn't get the scholarship. She still doesn't understand it. And she secretly hates me for it, as well as her family.

I also received a scholarship for being black, and that upset her as well. Um...you're Latina, sweetie, lol. I also found out that this random program I signed up for in middle school, which was years before I met my friend, decided to offer me like, $2500 towards college during my senior high school year. When my friend found out, she talked to the woman and signed up at the last minute as a senior, and found out that she was only getting a fraction of what I was getting. She was upset then, too. Really?

What pisses me off is that after she received news that she didn't get the huge scholarship, she gave up. She put off college and stopped applying for scholarships. She apparently, never had a backup plan. Well...when I received my acceptance letter from the university I eventually graduated from, I was also told that they would be giving me a $40,000 scholarship. This was before I found out about my other full-ride scholarship, so I was already planning on taking loans, and applying for more scholarships to cushion the costs. Like I said, I was determined to go to college, no matter what. So when the full-ride, well actually, needs-based scholarship because it would cover the difference, including student health insurance and housing, came through for me, I was in heaven. I would have NO loans upon graduation. And they kept their word. I never paid a cent towards tuition. I even received book scholarships.

I believe her resentment towards me reached new proportions during that period and I never really heard from her while I was in college. She did go to a college, but started a year after me, and went to a cheaper school, and used loans to pay for most of it because she didn't apply for any other scholarships besides the ones she saw me apply for. Now she's graduated and can't find work, and now wants to be my twin again.

I'm just frustrated because it's like she never learned her lesson. We are not the same person. I've always been the chunky, unattractive, and dorky girl who relied on book smarts to succeed. She's always been pursued, and swooned over and told that she would be a famous actress, singer or model because she's skinny and pretty. I truly feel that her family thought that because she was prettier than me, that she should be chosen for things instead of me and they are mad because they are finding out that looks aren't everything. I don't think my friend actually feels this way, but we haven't really been close lately, so who knows? I hope not because that would be a horrible reason to lose a friend over.

But now she wants to get work at the same place that I do. And I don't want to go through that again. I am so sick of being the undesired person who is used as a stepping stone for someone else to make their mark. It's seriously time for me to stop being so humble all of the time and harboring these feelings of worthlessness, when I'm actually worth the time of day. I don't want to have to train her so that she can all of sudden appear to be this overly qualified person and steal credit for what I've worked hard for. I admit that I struggle at my job, but dammit, I try and I take notes everyday, and I study, and to have someone come in and use me to get ahead makes me so fucking sad and pissed because I know that it's going to happen. She is going to apply at my job and they're gonna hire her because she is eye candy, but she's not going to understand a fucking thing and it will be my burden to train her because we're besties.

It's a mean thing to say, but I'm so sick of it. I'm sick of people glomming onto my "talent," or work and prospering from it.

So yeah...another day in the life. Oh speak of the devil...guess who's calling me right now? FML.

Things Your Teller Doesn't Need to Hear...

2010-09-21T21:42:00.002-06:00

Okay, so...I'm fucking sick of people at the moment. So, fuck the introductory paragraph and let's just get right to it, in no particular order. I'll add to this list whenever.

1. Your Life Story
I don't know what makes people think that explaining themselves to tellers, when not asked, will better their situation.

Teller: You have overdraft charges.
Asshole, I mean customer: But my husband and I are divorcing, and the baby has herpes, and I have a wooden leg that's infested with termites. I can't possibly keep up with my balance right now. Can you refund the fee?

Seriously? I mean, it's fucking common knowledge: Don't Spend Money That You Don't Have. But we're not allowed to say this to customers. We're also not allowed to tell them that the fees they get are their own fault. It really is. No matter what order we post charges, or on what day, you should know what's going on in your account. Those little transaction registers we give you are not a joke; use them, you fucktards.

2. That You Don't Know Your Account Number
Yeah, we can look up your account using your name or social security number, but why put a teller through that? It puts you at risk of being mistaken for someone else (believe it or not, amigo, there's more than one Juan Martinez in this world). And don't just spit out random account numbers that sound like your number. That's just fucking stupid, and it's not like we're Googling your account and it shows the top 20 matches or some shit. So please, if you're going to bother a teller, because believe me, we're always bothered when you approach us, at least try to find your account number.

3. That You Need Account Info on An Account That Is Not Yours
Do I really have to say anything about this? I mean, fucking really? Just because you worked out a little (illegal) deal with someone to where they get the loan approval and you make the payments, that does not technically mean that you have any rights to the account information. You want a balance? Apply for the loan your damn self.

If you go to a financial institution and try to cash a check one of their customers made to you, don't be a bitch when you find out you can't cash it. And don't ask why. Dammit, you know why. And it doesn't matter because the teller can't tell you why, other than to call the person who wrote the check. It's not worth the argument. You will not get any information.

4. Your Phone Conversation
Again, do I need to talk about this? Turn your fucking phone off when you walk into a place of business, in general. It's fucking rude, and embarrassing for the teller to have to pretend to not listen to your stupid conversation. And don't get me started on the people who feel the need to yell in their native tongue at some fuckface on the phone. I always find it hilarious when an idiot tells the other person to hold on while they finish with me, and lay the phone on the counter as they tell me their account number, password, ask for me to tell them the balance, and even give me their full social security number. And then they wonder why their identities get stolen...

5. Your Advice
I seriously cannot stand it when people try to get me advice on anything, especially if I'm done helping them and there's a line. I don't give a shit about your home remedy for carpal tunnel or acne recipes, or what events to go to this weekend. Bitch, I'm working this weekend. Go away. There are people waiting.

*Your Lingering
(Okay, so this is not so much of a hearing thing, but it's an important point!)

This goes along with most of the points above. Sort of an umbrella term for annoying customers. Once your business with me is done, walk away. Seriously. Don't sit there and think up a story to tell me that you oughta know that I am not listening to, due to my anxiety over the growing line. Don't stand there and SLOWLY fold your receipt and then decide to reorganize your purse or wallet. And please don't stand there, reading the receipt that I just went over with you in detail, while circling the parts you didn't understand like, the meaning of "cash disbursed" as if it never happened. And don't hit on me. I have access to your account and I know that you are either: broke, married, or old enough to be my father. It's pointless. Just...fucking stop it. Go home.

6. Your Jokes
Yeah, as you've figured out by now, I'm sort of a bitch. Seriously, though. Any monetary joke you can think of has already been said to me 50 times before you. So just...drop the stupid jokes. For example, your teller does not want to be asked if she/he's "Got any extra money?" or if they "Can add a couple of zeros?" It's fucking annoying. Especially the one about "winning lottery numbers."

7. That You Don't Have ANY Identification
Why are you even in the fucking bank to begin with, or you don't have id? Do you think we're just gonna give you money, based on your "oh so cool" vibe? Um...no. Yeah, we can get your social security, address, birthdate and mother's maiden name, for verification, but so could anyone with a couple of hours on Google and Facebook. Based off the logic of some these idiots I deal with, I could pretend to be...well, them and withdraw money and be perfectly justified for doing so.

I mean, again, these are things I know that people know, which is why I just get so pissed off when I have to deal with these situations. Well, I'm tired, not fired, and hoping to get hired for pay that's higher so I can retire. Why the fuck does that rhyme? FML.

Moment of Clarity...

2010-09-19T20:08:00.002-06:00

So I just realized, like literally, a few minutes ago, that I'm only lonely because I blow people off ALL THE FUCKING TIME. I sit and I wallow in self pity, feeling sorry for myself because I appear to have no life. I actually wonder why I have no friends, why I'm not getting laid, and why, despite having a bachelor's degree from a prestigious university that was fully paid for through a full-ride scholarship, my dream job is still out of my reach. Well, it would be a little bit closer if I actually knew what I wanted to do with my life. But I fucking suck, I admit it.

I used to be so...unafraid, to go outside with no makeup on, and to just be myself. I was a fucking tomboy in middle school, and never knew it because I was too busy having the fucking time of my life with guys who understood the awesomeness of wrestling, yo-yos, and Eminem. Then one day, all of my friends get detention and I end up sitting with the "popular girls" who inform me that I've spent the majority of my life being a loser and that I should start wearing eyeliner and short skirts to be cool (and to be their partners in every class because I was also the number 2 geek in high school). My life was shit after that transition. Now all of my guy friends wanted to fuck me, and instead of discussing the meaning behind Eminem's lyrics and how awesome he was as an artist, I was reduced to making up stories about how sexy he was to my new girlfriends. This new me also realized that wrestling was fake. My life as my true self ended in 8th Grade...

Before I go any further, I think it's time to come clean with my Eminem obsession. It started when I was around 12/13, and I realized that I had this huge crush on this guy named Jack. He had blue hair, blonde eyes, was the smartest guy in middle school (I was number 2, remember?) , and he was my friend. He liked me too, and because we were both entering puberty at the same time, looking back on it, I'm pretty sure I would have fucked him had I not been so sheltered. He also had a cousin, that I liked as well, and who was also blonde with blue eyes. Thus began, a series of random sexual events throughout middle school that I will never forget. It started in English class when Jack wanted to feel me up. I so let him, lol. But it was like, a quick touch between my legs when everyone else was looking the other way. It was quick, but so awesome to both of us...

The next encounter was with his cousin...during Art class. Someone somewhere told me that I had a nice body at the time (I went through a major growth spurt where my boobs grew like 3 cups sizes in one summer) so I decided to wear a tight-ish shirt with a shortish skirt. The cousin comes up from behind and begins to dry hump me in front of a few classmates, which was funny, embarrassing and awesome at the same time. I laughed it off, but wow. That was pretty hot.

The next event involved both guys and a gym mat. Basically I was messing around with them, being stupid after school and they pushed me onto a gym mat and BOTH began to dry hump me. I was shocked. Very shocked, yet honestly turned on.

Over the next few months, I would receive random phone calls from them, asking me to fuck. At this point, I lost sight of who it was I really liked in the first place and just began to see them as one person.

The following event took place during a field trip where all of the smart students got chosen to tour the new Invesco Field that was being constructed. We were allowed to walk across the field and everything. Not that I give a shit about football, but when I tell people about it, they get all excited and shit. Whatever. Anyways, I flashed them on the bus, which was mind-blowing to them because I had the second biggest boobs in the entire school...

The last event was more intimate, and was also the day that I realized that I really liked Jack. I mean, really, really, really, liked Jack. We were on the bus, going on our 8th grade trip to Six Flags. Jack and I sat together. Jack asked if he could feel me up for real this time. And I let him. And it was the best thing that ever happened to me...

I could not wait to see more of Jack in high school. We were probably going to be lovers...until I received the news that I would not be going to the same high school as him. Fucking heartbreak. I ended up being sent to one of the worst high schools in the state, and I never saw Jack again. I heard that he became an "L7" and became a pothead who barely graduated. During this time, I noticed that he bore a striking resemblance to Eminem and I slowly turned from a fan to a Stanette as I projected all of the lost love and deep feelings I had for Jack onto Eminem. A few months ago, I stumbled upon a picture of Jack and wow, he's a fucking doppelganger for Eminem.

So basically, whenever I say something about Eminem that just appears to be over the top, and just kind of disturbing, it truly is me venting about how much I miss Jack and how I wish that I could see him again... I once looked him up in phone book and he still lives in the same area as he did when we went to middle school together. But I dare not call him. I'm scared. Plus, I also found out from my college roommate, who went to the same school as Jack and had a yearbook with his senior picture, that he grew up to be even cuter and looks even more like Eminem. So he's probably taken by someone a lot cuter than me, which is practically everyone...

Okay! So it wasn't a "quick confession." It's not like anyone reads this shit, anyways. I feel better getting it all out now, but I still feel even sadder, because the point is that I never took a risk by going to his house. Had I not been such a sheltered fucking hermit, I could have had a better life. And here I am, like 10 years later, still obsessing over something in the past. So I guess if Eminem ever died, or something, I'd probably have to stop obsessing over him and Jack and start trying to live a fulfilling life by going out to meet new people and not being so panicky, anxious, and nervous all of the time. And I'm only that way because of that stupid day that I decided that being what society wanted me to be and not sticking to my guns and being myself was somehow better.

And now, whenever someone tries to talk to me, or get close to me, I simply freak out, because I'm now afraid of being my true self.

Fuckin Ricki Lake....

2010-09-17T21:54:00.005-06:00

I can't remember exactly how many years ago this was, but I fondly remember an obsession I had with daytime talk shows as a young child. Oprah, Sally Jesse Raphael (I fucking WANTED those glasses), Jenny Jones, Ricki Lake, Donahue, Oprah, and Jerry Springer. You know: the true OGs of talk shows back in the day. Back in a time where I never knew what Virginity was and why women seemed to be so upset when they claimed their boyfriends took it from them. Lol. Ah, I miss that sweet young naivety...

But I just realized that today, whenever a news story comes up about some young (most white) fuckheads going crazy over OTC drugs, I distinctly recall an episode from Ricki Lake that simply made me say, "what the fuck?" as the memory of the events in that show burned into my fucking brain. Now...allow me to recount this episode from memory. Like, straight from memory. Watch, I mean read this shit. It's crazy.

So this white tweaky looking white dude was on the show, talking about how he got addicted to cough syrup. Mainly the good shit in the Tussin called "Dex." He would go apeshit for a hit of that sweet shit. Now, as you can imagine, sippin on the sizzurp (No fucking idea how those rappers really spell it) can turn your stomach after a while because it's nasty. I mean, well, I find it quite tasty, but I'm not your average sane person. But this guy basically got sick of the taste, well actually, he just got impatient with waiting for the good shit Dex to kick in, so he devised a way to extract Dex from the Tussin. No fuckin joke.

I admit that I don't remember how he came out discovering this extraction. That's not the important part. What's stuck in my head; what lurks in the back in my mind, is the method by which to get the Dex. It's quite sad because I've never even smoked weed before, so it's just kinda weird that me, a Goody Two-Shoes, can tell you without even thinking about it, how to get high from cough syrup. And we're off.

So first, you gather your materials:
-bottle of cough syrup
-ammonia (oh yeah, mothafuckas)
-ziplock bag
-coffee pot
-blowdryer
-Sharp object
-pipe (I don't know the right lingo, but crackpipe sounded just rude)
-lighter
-Dr. Drew's number (you need to call him, seriously, if you're taking notes)

Second, you pour the bottle of cough syrup into the ziplock bag.

Then you pour ammonia into the SAME fucking ziplock bag. Oh snap!

Now, what you will see next, is basically a separation of the Dex from the cough syrup. Apparently, ammonia strolls up to the Tussin and is like, "Look mothafucka, I don't want any of yo bullshit, just give up the Dex or I'll cut ya, bitch."

The Dex settles at the bottom of the ziplock bag and is clear. You can then poke a hole in the bag, and just empty out that clear shit into the coffee pot.

Now, you take a blowdryer and use the cool setting to crystallize the Dex.

Take the sharp thingie, and use it to break up the Dex into little, um...crack rocks or something and put them into your pipe. Light it up, and well, you'll get lit.

Now, Ricki Lake, what makes you think that your airing of this show, with such an accurate portrayal of how to do this shit, with the use of cameras and all, didn't "inspire" someone to actually try this shit? Thank God, that I have enough sense to raise both eyebrows at the mention of using Ammonia in anything other than a hardcore cleaning session.

I'm just hoping that writing all of this shit out, will finally allow me to cleanse myself of remembering such crazy shit. And will hopefully pass it on to a reader, like some type of Japanese curse...

And now...for the first time, since I've seen the show...I will attempt to Google this Ricki Lake episode to see if it really happened, because I learned that a lot of the times, we recollect things that we thought happened as children, that never actually fucking happened. But come on...do you really think I'd come up with this shit outta nowhere? Alright. Here goes...

Okay, so, I'm not crazy. The episode does exist. It's just that, in the cesspool called search results, it's now become impossible to find anything through Google. But I will find that episode...

Now I would normally just end my shit right there, but I realized something. People are stupid and will actually try this shit. So um...don't. I haven't, so why should you? I mean, it's just not even gangsta to say that you're addicted to cough syrup. Oh wait a minute, I take that back. What was T.I. caught with again?

FUCK YOU COMCAST!

2010-09-12T13:12:00.008-06:00

Okay, so I'm looking through my cable bills, wondering why all of a sudden, shit has just gotten so expensive. Thanks to their fucking online account access where you can look at your past bills, I see that $20 has been conveniently added to my bill since last July. So I call Comcast to bitch at SOMEBODY, and this bitch has the nerve to tell me that my bill was low because of a promotional deal and that I was getting a $20 discount all this time. Fuck you, Comcast. I'm about to put your bullshit on blast.

First off, I switched to Comcast because they basically convinced me that staying with Qwest was pretty gay and that it would be cheaper for me to get my internet, phone, and cable as a bundle through them for the great price of about $140. I was NOT told that that was a promotion. So I broke up with Qwest, who got all bitter about it and now is chasing me down for a $400 "breakup fee" for a phone/internet bill that was only about $50 a month in the first place. Nice try, Qwest, but I ain't payin you shit. Take me to court if you can find me, motherfuckers. (I do miss your wonderful internet service, though)

So, after giving Qwest the boot and jumping in bed to have hot and unprotected sex with Comcast, I went home to connect the internet service myself, which I was actually charged $1 to do. Funny shit, paying Comcast for my own labor. Fuckin assholes. Well...after the internet was connected, I realized that there was no wireless access, which was fucking stupid, considering that there are two laptops, a psp, and a DSi in my household. So I called Comcast to bitch at SOMEBODY, and this bitch had the nerve to me that customers cannot install the wireless routers themselves; that we have to have someone come out and install that for $99. So basically, Comcast had already made $100 off me in a matter of about two days. What the fuck?

So they send this sorry ass motherfuckin excuse for a installer out to install the wireless shit, that I could have easily done myself. And this asshole had NO idea what he was doing. I casually asked him if the router had ethernet hookups for the XBOX 360 and he said he wasn't sure. Um...the fucking ethernet ports on the fucking router he's staring at were a big fucking clue to the answer for my question, which I only asked to test him. It was obvious from that point on that I should have his job, seriously. So he hooks up some piece of shit router that didn't even come in a box; I think he found it under the seat of his Comcast van or some shit. He then left, which brought about even bigger problems.

First off, the internet was not working correctly, and the router he hooked up only had access for one ethernet cord, which the main computer needed to get internet access. Then we received our bill, which claimed that we owed $300 and we hadn't even gotten the services, such as phone and internet, to work yet. Needless to say, I was pissed and called Comcast to bitch at SOMEBODY. And this dude, was actually pretty cool, or fucking scared. I'm guessing the latter because after I bitched him out, I found out that our account was not set up properly for triple play; some idiot was billing us for phone, internet and tv separately, which made our bill astronomically high and fucked up. By the time I was done with this dude, our bill was lowered to 149.99, and that installation fee was waived. Our internet was also upgraded at no extra cost. I WAS STILL NOT TOLD ABOUT A PROMOTIONAL DEAL. He also sent another technician out with the right wireless router, which I still could have done myself, but whatever.

The phone hookup was totally horrible. At first, they accidentally assigned the same phone number to two different customers so we were getting calls from some guy who couldn't understand why his girlfriend changed her voice and kept saying he had the wrong number. And that was after the hours it took to get the damn phone to work in the first place. And it only took that long because Comcast doesn't believe in customer service. They're a bunch of antisocial idiots who hope that the long holding times on the phone will cause an angry customer to hang up.

Quick tip: If you want customer service at Comcast, choose the "Downgrade Service" option. They'll pick that damn phone up so fucking fast you'd think they were a viable company.

Oh, and more thing. I'm using my neighbor's wireless right now because my internet is not working. Fucking bullshit, I tell ya.

And don't get me started on this Xfinity conspiracy. It's so funny how my bill jumped $20 the same month they rebranded themselves. I could call a fucking dirty pig a white swan and that still won't change the fact that it's a fucking dirty pig.

At this point, I'm just fucking stuck because that directtv dish shit doesn't seem any better, and there doesn't appear to be any off-brand cable companies out there. Wal-Mart needs to jump on that shit. I'll take Equate Cable over Xfinity/Comcast any day. Shit, that Equate allergy medicine at $1.78 kicked the shit out of that $17.78 Claritin bullshit.

But I digress, a bit.

My bill is still $20 higher and I have no choice but to pay, pay, pay, and fucking pay.

Hoarders....yeah, right.

2010-09-06T19:13:00.008-06:00

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST WILL CONTAIN MUCH MORE FUCKING CUSSING THAN USUAL.

So...I'm watching a "Hoarders" marathon today and I'm just appalled at how absolutely disgusting these people are. Watching the crews finding dead animals under years of junk and trash, listening to the "victims" stories about getting bitten by cockroaches, and seeing bathrooms literally FILLED with shit is very upsetting. Fuck it, I'm pissed off at the fact the these people have allowed their homes to become so fucking congested and filthy and basically get a free pass by having other people clean it up for them. Now, not all of the hoarders just sit on their asses and watch people dig through their shit; I'm just talking about this nasty bitch named Augustina.

I'm calling her a nasty, lazy, sick, disgusting, useless pig because goddammit, her fucking house was HORRID. I would have had some respect for her had she tried to help the crew and her children at all, but she didn't. She sat her fat ass on a rocking chair, and ate a hot dog with her fucking gums while she told the crew to look for her teeth amongst, I don't know, like 20 fucking years of pure garbage and feces. And when a part of her teeth were found, all the bitch could say was, "What good are these without the bottoms?" Even, the psychologist had to step in and basically say, "Look bitch, they dug through shit to find half your teeth. Least you could do is say thank you." I mean, wow, just fucking wow at this show, and that woman in particular.

Now, I am by no means a small person myself, so it's like I'm just looking at people I couldn't possibly understand and giving them shit about their issues. I have OCD, and I'm not skinny, but I have to say that the majority of these people are fucking fat lazy slobs who are simply too lazy to throw their trash away. They'd rather just sit in shit and live in squalor while their families and poor neighbors suffer. I feel that these people are simply selfish. I'm sick of all of these medical terms being thrown on these people like a fucking band-aid or some shit. When you say they have a disorder, it just gives them free reign to keep fucking up.

I get so frustrated with the counselors on this show because they are too fucking nice. I know that there are cameras around and they must be viewed as the light in the midst of the darkness or some shit, but this show needs drill sargents, not psychologists that baby these people throughout the whole "process." Don't let them sit there and pick through shit that's obviously trash and covered in shit. You snatch that rusty, broken, empty, dirty useless THING from them and throw in the dump. Make them help with the cleaning. And if the hoarder cries, SO THE FUCK WHAT? The crew should be crying after having to shovel shit out of a bathroom filled with shitty adult diapers that have eaten through the fucking floor.

But we have watch like 15 minutes of these people having a nervous breakdown because we think their house is disgusting and people have the nerve to want to throw away the trash that's threatening their future.

Here is a breakdown of how these people can act:

"Your house is being condemned!"
"But I wanna keep this dish, I could clean it and use it."
"But your children can't open the refrigerator to eat."
"But this is not 'throw away' stuff!"
"We're calling social services."
"Why? I love my kids, I would never do anything to hurt them."
"Then why don't you move the debris from their rooms and the kitchen so that they can walk around the house without tripping, and not have to worry about getting bitten by cockroaches, and so that they can eat?"
"You guys are just throwing my life away! I can use this stuff! I love my children!"

Fucking one-sided conversations the whole fucking show. It's so frustrating.

And what the fuck is up with people not wanting to throw away dirty tupperware? When that shit gets stained, you can't get it out, no matter how much you wash it, so let it go. You can get tupperware at the fucking dollar store...

I could go on and on, but I gotta finish this marathon. I can say that I watch this fucked up show and I vacuum my room and scrub the floors afterwards. Fucking filthy bastards.

So basically, my message of the day is to get off your fat asses (myself included) and take some responsibility for your actions. The trash must be taken out eventually...just not five to twenty years after you throw it on the floor. And those expiration dates are not optional... (though I did read an article saying that you can go a little bit longer than the said date, but not months or years, you idiot food hoarders.)

Stanky Mothafuckas...

2010-08-20T21:37:00.010-06:00

I'm sorry, but I just cannot sum up my feelings right now any more that that title and picture.

Why the fuck do some people just stink so fuckin bad? I'm talking about serious funk. Like you just ran 10 miles in 90 degree whether in sweats that ain't been washed in like, 2 weeks and were simmering in skunk juice. And that's only one of the many types of funk I've been dealing with lately. I don't really have a plan here as to how to express to you the fuckery I've been sampling, so I'm just gonna start from the top.

Mouth:

Spicy Shit Breath: Oh yes, this does exist, and I could easily tell which types of people are 100% most likely to have this smell, but that would be beyond racist, to be honest. Anyways, Spicy Shit Breath is when your breath smells like you took a shit, or found a shit, sprinkled cayenne pepper on it, and just grubbed that shit up, licking your fingers and everything. If you want to experience this unpleasant aroma, simply sprinkle some pepper on a piece of dog shit and light it on fire. Bask in the mothafuckin ambiance if you feel the need...

If you're not sure if you got the SSB, watch the actions of those you speak to very closely. Do their eyes water? Does their nose scrunch up like they just smelled some straight up nasty shit that's burning their nose hairs? Do they sort of turn their head away from you to avoid the funk demons coming from your orifice? If you answered yes to any one of these questions, brush your goddamn teeth. For real.

Shit Breath: Now this is just a mild case of Spicy Shit Breath where your breath just smells like you chew on shit pellets for leisure. There is no spicy tinge to the smell; just straight up shit. But don't get it twisted; this isn't a good thing. Shit breath is just as horrible as Spicy Shit Breath in that your odor will cause heads to turn, away from you. While Spicy Shit Breath causes watery eyes, Shit Breath causes nausea that lingers with the person you've infected for the rest of their shift.

Hot Garbage: Even milder bad breath, but still funky enough to cause light dizziness for those who smell the stank shit.

Piss Breath: Yes, there are people who's breath smell like they drank a cup of piss and gargled. Not much to say about this smell other than the fact that it's more disturbing than SSB, SB, and HG because there's a slight mystery about what exactly causes the smell. I mean, do people really drink piss?

There are a few more smells, but I'm honestly just getting sick reminiscing that nasty shit, so I'm gonna stop. Sorry, but I'm not.

Upper body:

Pits:
No particular category here as we all know what must smells like: Must. It's not so much the smell I have an issue with as it is the type of people who have been stankin so bad lately. I cannot grasp why the people who have A LOT of money, tend to be the ones who smell the mustiest. I mean, maybe when have enough money to not have to work or kiss up to a boss, you just don't have to worry about things like personal hygiene. I mean, it's not just people in my line of work who have been seeing this, either. If you read any celeb gossip, you will see that big stars like Matthew McConaughey, Robert Patterson, and even Mya have been known to stink. Why is that, though? I don't get it.

The worst part about musty pits is when the offender walks up to you, and happens to have a place where they can rest their arms, like a booth, so that their pits are "open." And you can't get away from the smell. It lingers and you HAVE to spray to kill the odor. Now don't get me wrong; there a quite a few people who don't have as much money to spare who smell horrid, but that's explainable when you go shopping and see that the good deodorant is like, almost $4 a stick. But for a person to have thousands, even hundreds of thousands of dollars to smell as musty and just look as dirty as they do, it's just mind-boggling.

Fragrances:
Bug Spray:
There is no other way to describe the horrid scent of a woman who wears some abstract perfume that she probably ordered from one of those catalogs that randomly appeared in her mailbox. When she approaches, you retreat in shock, due to the sudden and uncontrollable urge to regurgitate.

Gasoline:
This woman probably really smells like expired ass or something because she cracked the top of her perfume and poured that shit all over herself. You fear that if a light flickers, she'll ignite from all the flammable liquid on her person.

Spicy Shit Parfume:
Imagine if that person with Spicy Shit Breath licked a woman up and down and then sprinkled a bit of rubbing alcohol on her? Yes, it really happened...

Weed:
Now, I don't give a shit if it's "from da earth" or whatever, but weed is fucking stank as hell when you are not a smoker and it will make you sick and mildly buzzed if a person comes up to smelling like they could be rolled up and smoked.

Alcohol:
I've truly felt as if I've gotten drunk from talking to a person with alcohol breath for 3 minutes. No words can describe the smell the arises when a longtime drunk gets into your face. Rotting insides soaked in alcohol, mixed with whatever weird fast food that's been digested, coming through a person's mouth is the most gaggifying(yes, a made up word was necessary) smell ever.

"Down-there":

Yes, we can smell it if you ain't washed the kooter or the jewels in a couple of days. Won't go into too much detail here but I'll just pretty much sum it up as the odor that arises the moment water hits a dirty elephant at the zoo...

Feet:
I'm totally biased this subject because I am an offender. I have stinky feet. I do what I can, but it just...stinks, lol. All I can say on the subject is wear socks when you wear tennis shoes, and just make sure you stay cool if you're gonna wear flip flops...And a little bit of baking soda or powder in the shoes does WONDERS...

So the next time you are talking to someone, and your eyes water, you feel nauseous, and you slightly turn your head away from that person...you are dealing with a Stanky Mothafucka!

Peace!

The Trick to Forgetting the Big Picture is to Look at Everything Close-up

2010-08-03T20:34:00.004-06:00

Lines make me itch. Especially lines in multiple patterns with more lines sticking out of them. Centipede and millipede legs are good examples. A close up of wiggling hairy spider legs and stacks of nets held up to the light are worse ones. Lines cause this urge; an urging itch that can’t be scratched, much like the itch just below your skin. It took me the first seven years of my life to understand the root of this urging itch, until a piece of cotton flew into my eye one day.

I had already had this fascination with my eyelashes that bordered and damn near crossed into the insane. I would take the thick corner of a blanket or shirt, and just press it into the corner of my eye, catching a few lashes with it. I would then savor the feeling of hair in my eyes and with a blink, the hairs would come out, standing curled and tall against my lid. The day the cotton flew into my eyelashes, I pulled at the piece out of panic, and then, it happened.

A warm wet sting as I accidentally pulled an eyelash out with the cotton. My eyes filled with tears from the shock and pain. I loved it. I did it again, and again, and again, and again, until finally, the entire left part of my left eyelid was bare. And I was elated. To this day I still pull and now it’s become a horrible addiction. With every pull I am less desirable to this mascara-obsessed culture. Who knew that this very secret and very quiet compulsion would hold me back as an adult teenager?

In Hoodoo, they say if someone gets your hair, you will go crazy. My mom says I’m supposed to burn my hair to avoid this curse. I don’t burn my eyelashes. I’ve been in a mental institute. I’m suicidal, antisocial, and depressed. Who has been collecting my eyelashes, and making me go crazy? More importantly, how would I make myself stop plucking? This witch has fourteen years worth of my eyelashes in her possession. The least I could do is stop the supply.

But giving up the pull is like giving up air. And the black needles that emerge after the third day of the pull boycott are simply unbearable. With every blink, they pierce my lower lid, and it quickly turns into a “no blinking” contest that I lose in a matter of seconds. Then the urge reemerges and my hand reaches up to pull one of the needles out of mercy, then another, and another, until my eyes are naked again.

It’s a horrible, horrible, obsession that I just cannot give up. The shame and guilt that follow after an hour’s worth of plucking are so painful that I have now accepted that plucking encompasses every deadly sin. So without further ado, I present:

The 7 Deadly Sins of Plucking

Pride

Is having to choose between the beauty of eyelashes, and the exuberant feeling of a pulled hair; wet bulb across the lips, searing, sharp pain. A full-on, follicle orgasm. This is the worst sin of plucking because in our society, vanity is definitely the key to success, and eyelashes play a huge role (in my eyes) in being perfect. If I was the “pride” chick in that movie Se7en, the psycho would have kidnapped me during one of my break periods where I let all of my eyelashes grow back and pull out all of the eyelashes on one eye. He would then glue a set of false eyelashes to one hand, and tweezers to the other. Now do I freak out and try to glue the falsie onto my bare lid to conceal my handicap, or do I give into my urges and just pull the other set of eyelashes out? It would be like false vanity vs. bare reality, or something.

Greed

Pulling all of the hairs in one night can lead to very crusty and swollen red eyes in the morning. It also makes applying makeup a bit more challenging when your eyes are constantly tearing from their unprotected nakedness, and from the guilt of pulling them all out.

Gluttony

This is not that much different than greed, though it can be far worse. Greed involves trying to purposely get as much as you can; to pluck all of the hairs, no matter what. Gluttony lies in the idea of over-consumption. I guess the original definition of gluttony involved food, but the idea can apply to the art of plucking:

You can pluck too soon: Say, for example, you’ve gone on one of your plucking vacations where you truly believe that you can finally stop plucking, and you have, for like 3 whole months. Ha! That one long night before that big exam causes some mighty strong urges to arise and BAM! Those lovely black needles are all gone. But that’s not the worst part. You’ve finally built your confidence to the point where you’ve allowed a guy to ask you out and you have accepted. Yes, those eyelashes are your source of confidence; for every eyelash you have, your sex appeal goes up. Really. In the midst of your plucking frenzy, you have forgotten that small, important detail and now, you’re fucked (or technically, will not be fucked) because you will not be that same hot chick that got asked out; you will be the shy, quiet loser hermit girl who DOES NOT talk to, or interact in any way with the opposite sex. And you will be single forever, because you plucked, too, soon.

You can pluck too much:

This is basically the same as greed where you have plucked all of your eyelashes out, leaving you with the sloppy-seconds of hair which include the nose, chin, eyebrows, and possibly pubic hair. Had you saved a few of those lashes for the rest of the week, your nose wouldn’t be running so bad. In case you didn’t know this by now, genius, those hairs in your nose help to keep snot from constantly running down into your mouth (at least I think so, so it must be true). Those hairs help make boogers. Really.

You can pluck too eagerly:

This is where you get so excited about plucking that last, short, and incredibly sharp hair that you throw caution to the wind and pluck a piece of your eyelid or your “inner-nose skin”, which is painful, but not the “follicle-pull” type of painful that gets you off. Your eyes become all watery, and your nose gets all runny, making the hair all slippery, and you can’t pluck it, no matter how much you wipe your eyes and nose because you didn’t take it slow. Now you will have to stay up all night because that hair is going to drive you crazy in your dreams, and your hands will keep fighting to pull that damn hair, even in your sleep.

You can pluck too daintily:

Sometimes pulling an eyelash out slowly can heighten the pleasure of the pull and even produce a nice juicy bulb to rub across your lips. But pulling an eyelash out too slowly will feel like slowly pulling out a healthy tooth with ice cold pliers. There’s a lesson to be learned here, obviously.

And you can pluck too wildly:

This is where you go on an all-night plucking orgy only to wake up to find that you have patches of hair missing from your eyebrows, eyelashes, bangs, and oh yes, even your pubic region. It’s just a fucked up thing to do to yourself and is probably the worse consequence of gluttony.

Lust

Dreaming about those shiny black needles. The sensual feeling of the pull; pain, wet, hot, release. Rub the bulb across the lips. Hold the hair into light and admire its beauty. From different angles the hair changes from charcoal to a black much like the midnight sky in the country; the bulb is a star, gleaming in the light of the cheap desk lamp.

Sloth

Spend a day on the couch or in the bed just pulling out any hairs, regardless of location. Be lazy about it and just pluck without caring about the consequences. There will be no epiphanies about how I’m damaging myself in the midst of this frivolous plucking. Eyelashes are the ideal, but the chin and nose and sometimes the eyebrows can be a good substitute. Almost like the stupid saying that chocolate is a substitute for sex. Of course, a clueless virgin had to have invented that bullshit. Pulling an eyelash, having sex, pulling a nose hair and eating chocolate just don’t go together, period.

Anger

This is much like the guilt that is felt after plucking all of those shiny black needles, and “accidentally” pulling a few important eyebrows. Basically, you would have to be pissed to wake up to find that you look like a cancer patient…and you don’t have cancer. Damn!

Envy

This is a sad, sad, sad, consequence of giving in to the temptation of pulling. Sure, you can put some Blackest Black Almay or Noir Colorstay eyeliner on your upper and lower lids, but as you walk by a group of “I’m so hot and perfect and my shit don’t stink” bitches with their long black and almost fluffy looking eyelashes, you will bow your fucking head in shame because, of course, in your fucked up world, you think that everything and everyone revolves around you and that those uppity bitches are actually analyzing you. You become obsessed with those shiny black needles and start to create a collage of furry eyes on your bedroom walls and mirrors. You become the master of eye shadows, contours, concealers and eyeliner. Not falsies, though. Well, duh, of course not falsies. You would probably pluck those too.

In case you’re completely lost right now after reading such awkward material, the point I’m trying to make is that my fascination with such a minute detail in the vast ocean of my face is ruining my life. Most, no wait, actually ALL of the people I tell about this compulsion have no idea that I don’t have eyelashes. So I can go on and on about how maybe a witch has my eyelashes and is trying to kill me Hoodoo style, or how plucking might as well be a deadly sin because it’s oh so horrible, but this is just another way to avoid the bigger issue; that I get stressed and when I get stressed, this is how I deal.

The trick to forgetting the big picture is to lose yourself in the details.

Depression

2010-07-31T20:11:00.002-06:00

Found this little gem while going through some old poetry I wrote in high school. Damn, I was troubled even back then...

Soul fighting
Lost Eyes
Heart hurting
Quiet Tears
Lonely feelings
Silent Words
Shattered feelings
Broken Hearts
Depression
A waterfall of tears
A heart full of fears
Your head aches from hurt
It's as if you're on alert
Depression
It twists and tangles your soul
You feel as if you're not whole
No one hears your cries
So you're depressed until you die
Depression

Found some pictures of me back then too...I will never make another emo joke again...

Day in the Ugly Life

2010-07-31T15:12:00.001-06:00

So, today, I decided to keep track of just how many times I was held back because of my unattractiveness. As it turns out, there is no worse curse than being an ugly person. Ugly cannot be changed or hidden. It's for life, really.

So...

At work: You get absolutely NO respect from people when you're ugly. Rules that have been set in stone long before you started working will be questioned simply because you're fug. It's true. No matter how many times you explain the policy, it will not be true unless someone taller or prettier stands next to you, or better yet, in front of you, and repeats word for word what you had already said. Sorry, but you have no say in life, you fucking ugly bitch.

All of the guys you have semi-crushes on will only engage in flirty conversations with the prettier girls on either side of you. Even better, that guy will only go to your window with his girlfriend or wife, making extra sure to grab her ass or just engage in a full makeout session with her while your ugly ass counts all 400 of his wrinkled and slightly damp $1 bills by hand...

As a bonus, some random Mexican guy will stare at you blankly with his jaw dropped, only to ask why you have "no eyelids," and why that happened to you, causing you to momentarily panic because you thought that the eyeliner you've been wearing for the past 10 years was a great way to hide your Trichotillomania. Well, it's not, so just be paranoid for the rest of your shift, knowing that people hesitate before they come to your window, because you are truly frightening.

On that note, every single female you interact with for the rest of your life will be prettier than you and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Extra bonus: You will never able to wear short sleeve shirts without causing alarm. Ever. Listen dumbass, if you're gonna try to kill yourself, try to cut deeper, fucktard...

Cherry on Top: You're going bald at 23, which apparently skipped two generations to greet you. Even your genes hate you.

You will never be hit on men who DON'T resemble your father, who also has hit on you, go figure.

At home: You're the designated babysitter for life because your family never expects you to leave the house. Yes, even they think you're ugly too. But they'll still take your money, so they'll just say you're generous, and not much else.

You're the only girl from your neighborhood who went to college, never got into any trouble, and doesn't have kids. There's a reason for that...

Outside: People stare at you and laugh. Yes, they are laughing...at you.

Online: They are only your 'e-friends' and hit on you because you have multiple accounts...

Those with any real common sense, see through you pretty easily:

"I seen a real pic of you, after seeing what I seen, you should shut the fuck up about ANYONES LOOKS. Fucking bitch, you always go around talking shit about bitches that are much prettier than you, yet you still have an opinion. It's not even about who's pretty, who's not, it's the fact you're a fucking idiot, and a bitch at the same time."

Although, keep in mind that that same person had said, well um:

"she's pretty to so"

But I digress. You're a fucking ugly bitch no matter what, so go ahead and post this to your stupid fucking blog that NO ONE reads and get your sister some milk because your entire family is out, living exciting lives while your ugly ass sits on a laptop, ranting about nothing.

Well...so, there it is. And that's pretty much a day to day thing...Forever.

Oh, and one more gem I forgot. Once you've accepted that you're ugly and things will not change or get better for you, you will know not to exit your house on your days off because it truly is a good thing for the world if you limit the time that you expose people to your disease...

I'm Tired But I Can't Sleep So I Write Things...

2010-07-29T00:55:00.000-06:00

I think I just wrote a song about TrShady, using "Tik Tok" as my flow pattern or whatever the fuck you call it. This is why I should stop listening to radio. Face-fucking-palm....

T R (Tik Tok Parody)

Verse 1

Log into trshady lookin for Macdaddy
check the backstage,read some posts, Watch out for Emady
Before I leave, I'll check my pm for a message from Sac
Cause I bought some 6 inch heels, and he drools over that

We're wondering where Eminem goes
Why he aint fuckin no hoes
Don't he know lil Wayne blows?
Dust huffin, representing all our cities
Mile High's got the best weed
Tryin to get in Pink's panties...

Chorus:
On T R, you're a star
Sike you're not,you're just a tard
Tonight we'll decide
If Em is really white
New vid's bout to drop
Hope that Megan's on top, goin oh oh oh sayin Dynamite Soul!

On T R, you're a star
Sike you're not,you're just a tard
Tonight we'll decide
If Em is really white
New vid's bout to drop
Hope that Megan's on top, goin oh oh oh sayin Dynamite Soul!

Wow.. Just fucking wow. I hope that I'll sleep through the memory of this and not notice it tomorrow. Or worse, I'll read it tomorrow, finish the "parody" and record it on Acid Pro. Either way, it's fail. Bloody fail.

Now Eminem is Fucking Canibus...

2010-07-29T00:45:00.001-06:00

Eminem has reportedly rekindled his romance with rapper Canibus, who is pregnant with his child. The couple may have collaborated before. Their second union lasted less than three months, and they recently had a beef together.

It has been claimed the couple have decided to give their romance another try, and began dating last June. Canibus is said to be expecting the couple’s second child this spring.

"When he came into Canibus’ life again in a romantic way, he was floored. Canibus’ pregnancy is going smoothly," a source told the American edition of Star magazine.
Another insider told the publication the happy couple are expecting a boy, although further details of the new arrival, such as his due date, are unknown.
Eminem – real name Marshall Mathers - and Canibus, began dating in 1987 after meeting in high school. They married in 1999, but ended the union in 2001 due to the court’s unwillingness to accept the marriage as valid.

In 2000, Canibus sued Eminem for defamation after he wrote a song about him entitled “Can-I- Bitch.”

The pair remarried briefly in 2006, but the union ended acrimoniously. In 2009, Canibus gave an interview to a Detroit radio station in which he spoke of her hatred for the 37-year-old rapper.

"I can't stand him. He's an absolutely horrible person and he gets worse every day. I vomit in my mouth whenever I'm around him or I hear his name," he said.
"There's nothing left in me for him. Nothing at all."

Eminem’s representative has denied the reports he is back with Canibus, insisting they just have a friendly relationship for the sake of their careers.

"Contrary to false rumours spread by unreliable tabloids, Marshall and Canibus are not romantically reunited in any way, nor are they expecting a child together. They are a divorced couple who maintain a friendly relationship," Dennis Dennehy insisted.

Damn, Marshmellow, you've had a good week...

Eminem Is Secretly Dating Rihanna....

2010-07-28T23:17:00.000-06:00

Eminem was spotted leaving a Detroit hotel with singer Rihanna this morning. Despite Rihanna announcing a relationship with athlete Matt Kemp, the two artists recently started seeing each other after collaborating on their current hit "Love the Way You Lie." A source close to the 37-year old white rapper claims that the affair started as a spontaneous fling during the recording sessions for the song, but has now blossomed into a highly secretive relationship that Rihanna is desperately trying to conceal from her current boyfriend.

The situation became even hairier on the set of the video shoot for "LTWYL" when Matt Kemp surprised Rihanna with flowers while a red-faced Eminem dodged the athlete by retiring to his trailer for the evening. Kemp has since remained on the set, causing Eminem to call for rewrites for the video's storyline, which originally included him and Rihanna as the couple in a turbulent relationship, and the love scenes between the two have been omitted from the video. The last-minute casting of Megan Fox and Dominic Monaghan as the couple as well as Eminem's noticeable absence from several leaked pictures of Rihanna of the video shoot confirmed the tension on the set.

Calls to Eminem's manager, Paul Rosenberg went unanswered.

Some Anti-Meth Commercials Make It Look Cool

2010-07-28T11:57:00.002-06:00

So, I was thinking of ways to get Eminem's attention when I remember hearing an anti-meth commercial on the radio (yeah, I still listen to radio, fuck you.) about a girl named Hailey who was all on meth's dick and how it destroyed her life and whatnot, and I thought it would be funny to post that video over and over on Eminem's twitter, myspace and facebook because I'm weird like that. Well...I couldn't find that commercial anywhere (probably wasn't real, I dream about Eminem a lot, so who knows?) but I did stumble onto a commercial that I used to love when I was younger:

Now, to a normal person, I would assume that this video is about as anti-meth as it gets, but to me, I feel truly inspired. I mean, my room could certainly use some cleaning right now, and I could stand to lose a few pounds by not sitting on this fuckin laptop for countless hours looking up bullshit anti-meth commercials. I mean, the girl is cleaning the shit out of her house, which is really good because bedbugs are making a comeback and my neighbor announced that she doesn't sleep in her own bed anymore because the bugs are tearin her ass up...(note to self, disinfect all living furniture immediately).

And look how skinny this girl is. It's obviously from cleaning all day, which burns a lot of calories. I mean, sure her face looks like shit, but it's nothing some Pro Activ can't cure, you know. I mean, Jessica Simpson looked like someone took a cheese grater to her chin before Pro Activ kicked her acne's ass. Actually, I never noticed that the stupid bitch had any impurities due to the magic of makeup, but whatthefuckever. But I digress.

I watched a few more anti-meth commercials and I still was not convinced that this is such a bad drug. For example:

So apparently Meth destroys relationships, bank accounts, careers and well...yourself. Um...I can do the same fuckin thing playing on my Wii for 96 hours straight following my payday...

And how about this gem:

So apparently, snorting jello shots gets you fucked up much quicker...

I really like this one:

So...Rachel Leigh Cook can't well...cook, so out of frustration she destroys a perfectly good kitchen and blames it on drugs. This reminds me of a seminar on drugs and college that I went to in order to kiss ass for a scholarship. There was an exercise where a question about drugs or alcohol was asked and those who felt one way would go to one side of the room and those who felt another, well you get the fuckin point. One of the questions asked was "Does Alcohol cause rape?" Well, naturally, I walked my ass over to the "yes" side with a few other people, while everyone else walked to the other side. The instructor looked at the people on my side with a semi-disgusted look and said, "If you put a bottle of rum in a room with a girl and locked the door, would she get raped?" I totally got pwnd there...

So the same applies to this commercial. If you sat some drugs in that room (without the girl) would all that shit have gotten broken? NOOOOOOOO! So...drugs don't break shit...um, people break shit. And Rachel Leigh Cook destroyed the recipe for a perfectly good egg sandwich...

I think this one is my favorite:

The makers of this commercial have completely disregarded the fact that the greatness that was the Scooby Doo cartoons would not have existed had those meddling kids not been getting high as fuck in the Mystery Van.

So...I'm just sayin that a lot of these commercials are more humorous than deterring. (Do I really need to post the video of the guys in the drive thru who run over the little girl on the bike while on weed?)

However, on the other hand, I've never done anything harder than Benadryl(overdoses are only semi-fun at that moment) or generic vicodin from my dentist for getting my wisdom teeth removed (which made for a crazy week, btw), so I guess I'm not in any real position to say anything...

But I really don't feel like cleaning the pool today so maybe a little meth will motivate me...

A New Beginning....Again

2010-07-26T07:30:00.000-06:00

So, I see that everyone and their fuckin mom's grandma's cousin has a blog, so I thought...why not post my weird ramblings about Eminem, food, sex, and social anxiety for the world to gag over as well?

So.........I have a blog started and what should my first post be about?

Oh, so apparently Megan Fox is going to be in Eminem's new video for "Love the Way You Lie" and he's not going to be the one fucking her in it. He's just going to be outside with an unavailable and possibly emotionally disturbed scantly clad Rihanna, singing/rapping in front of the house that is burned down with Megan and some dude from "Lost" inside, fake fucking away.

Okay, Eminem, we get that you're supposed to be this so-called "new tolerant me" who has matured and cuddles with rabbits in meadows (Or is it cows who live in meadows? No, that's a pasture. I don't fucking know...) but seriously? You're gonna pass up a chance to fake fuck Megan Fox, who is simply unattainable now that she married some dude from "90210?" That's not baller. Not baller at all.

I mean, it may not even matter, considering that her role in the video is still under debate because no one really knows if she's going to be there or not, but still...it's kinda...questionable, you know?

Anyways, Megan Fox isn't all that and a bag of Hot Cheetos with Lime salt (yes, this is coming from someone who is about a 3 on a good day and I don't fucking care), so I don't understand the big fuss about it, but I'm not going to deny that if a guy has to fuck anyone in his life if he got the chance to, apparently she'd be numero uno right now. If Fred Durst can make out with Halle Berry, Eminem should be able to fake fuck Megan Fox, beat her ass, tie her to the bed and set the fucking house on fire, then uppercut Rihanna as she sings the chorus outside of the house while on his way to the strip club. That's the Eminem I know...

In fact, I had actually wrote my own version of how the idea for the video shoot came about on my guilty pleasure forum, but the topic was locked and I'm an e-ttention whore so of course, I saved it to post somewhere else later. Some may say that I only started this blog to repost it...they may be right...

Director: Yo Em! I got Megan Fox to star in your video. So I'm thinkin, you on top of Megan in the bed, rapping your verses to her while seducing her. As she arches her back and pushes her chest towards you, grab her arms and push her to the bed before intensely kissing her. Then we'll cut to Rihanna singing.

In the next scene, you'll both be arguing in the kitchen, in slow motion, as random objects (dishes, utensils, food) fall around you. At the height of the arguement you grab Megan by her neck and push her onto the counter, leading into another make out session before we cut to Rihanna singing again.

Finally, you'll be back in the bed for the final verse/scene, and while laying in the bed (of course we cut to a random bottle of liquor sitting on the nightstand next to the bed), Megan, who's sporting a black eye and busted lip enters the room with her suitcase. As tears fall down her cheek, she says something to you before turning around to leave the room. This pisses you off and you jump out of the bed to grab her.

A scuffle occurs, you overpower Megan, you throw her onto the bed, which seemingly leads to more make up sex, but of course, you pin her to the bed, tie her hands to the head board and proceed to pour the liquor all over her as she cries and screams in fear. You then light a match and we zoom in on your face, using the flame as a light source, showing the intensity and reflection of the flame in your eyes. We then zoom out to you throwing the match towards the bed and cut to a close up of Megan's petrified eyes, through which we see the flames rise...

Well, what do you think so far?

Eminem: Um...I think I'd just like to be outside with Rihanna, singing in front of the burning house. Hire some guy to play Megan's boyfriend. I'll just watch them.

Director: ....?

So...first blog, first day, first run...and I kinda like this. I think I'll keep it.