whoooo the fuck cares #2

I don’t care if you went for an amazing dinner, have a great evening planned, love your best friends to death, took a wicked dump, got dumped, fell in love, asked and received, thank god, picked up some tulips and they look great on your new pine table, bought a new tv and hd is amazing!, are really excited for the week, are so tired from work, had a wicked fun weekend in niagara falls, are exhausted from that crazy hard ab workout in the steam room, got a weird manicure or fucked your dog!

 

facebook and you people need to chill out with the status updates. It’s creeping me out. I’m trying desperately to move with the times. i’ve gone viral. i am writing a blog for christ’s sake! i’m a woman in the times. I live in the maintenant- but what is up with people constantly asking people to look at them, pay attention to them, comment on their progress in life, their career, their personal hygiene. 
What does this say about us? About me?  Narcissist. 100%. Our generation is full of walking, talking, ipod rockin, digital photo enhancing, apple product obsessed, dirty distressed denim indulged narcissists.  There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that because of the internet we have googled the fuck out of anyone who we might date and then directly after that googled ourselves to see what they will see. We’ve webcammed so much that webcam sex doesn’t even feel weird anymore. We’ve digital photographed ourselves so much that every girl knows her perfect angle, we know how to enhance the ugliest of pictures to make them look colourful and alive. We have access to everything. We can date when we want and be choosy – cause the internet’s got options.  We can manipulate our image on 100 different internet profiles that we have. We can change them on the daily depending on who might be looking at them, or who we want to be. We can create almost anything including our own celebrity.  Usually only to become a youtube celebrity of some sort in the hopes that that will lead you into a career, or money, or love or power.

 

Fickle mother fuckers I am one of you. I haven’t shat in three days. Did you need to know that? Oh, I also have a raging boner.  I also want to thank my parents for being wicked.  Status update you.

Who the fuck cares!?

We live in a world where instant gratification is a completely acceptable demand and being gay is still news worthy. 

Why? Some American Idol has been pop star has come out of the closet and it making headlines….again. 

Of course if the public doesn’t insist on it’s normalcy than middle american christian values will continue to rule the north american psyche.  Perhaps north america doesn’t think getting up the tush is normal. Well…..fuckin’ get with it people! I can only put up with conservative/republican values for so long.  Yes- my family is conservative and so is my best friend. I’m sure we all know a few of them. They aren’t the devil. I am a traditional girl with some right wing leaning views- but seriously….seriously?! We’re still going to make a big to-do about being gay?  

It’s not breaking news. 1 out of 4 people are gay. I made that statistic up. But that’s not the point. We are moving forward people….Clay fuckin’ gay gay gay Aiken isn’t newsworthy. He’s a freakishly weird singer from American idol who happens to also like men. I don’t give a hoot. And did I mention that we all knew he was gay from the beginning anyway!??!? Why are people still caring?

I can’t commit to the idea of commitment.

How do you decide to be with someone for a year? Two years? There are so many people out there. Men, women, beautiful options walking past me on the daily. How does one decide that they are no longer going to be available to the masses. I have never been off the market. I have never taken myself out for longer than a few months. I have no bloody idea how to do it.

I am 25 years old and getting kinda worried that I won’t ever know how. Will I be an aged George Clooney when I grow up? Childless and man-less. Or womanless. I still don’t know if I’m a lesbian.  Its fine for a guy to grow up to be George- but a woman just can’t.  She can’t be the sexy bachelorette for her entire life. It’s not socially acceptable. Even though that’s what I have always been. I have always been the single girl. The girl who enjoys her time alone, who knows how to get a date when I want one- but would really prefer to watch movies on her couch alone. Apparently that’s wrong. That’s not what I’m supposed to enjoy.

 

I like time spent on my own. I’ve never had a problem with it- and I guess up until recently- I didn’t know other people did. Other people can’t stand not having something to do with someone. That’s been my whole life- I don’t know anything different. Don’t get me wrong- I have a great group of friends that keep me active and social. But I’ve never really learned to settle down with one person. If I get sick of a friend- I just don’t call them for a while, or we don’t hang out. There’s no commitment to forcibly having to hang out.  In a relationship you have to hang out, or at least offer up an excuse if you don’t want to hang out.  I don’t like that.

That guy that I was dating kinda made this city a lot better. I was rediscovering the city and enjoying new things about it.  I miss that. I miss doing fun things with someone who liked spending time with me. Who liked holding my hand and kissing my forehead. I really miss that. I don’t know if I miss him. We didn’t laugh all that much together. I didn’t really thing he was so funny. But he treated me really well & made me feel beautiful.  

 

Not feeling so hot. Wish he would call. I would change for him. I would have given commitment a go with him.

LOVE SONG written for me.

I met an Australian man last night. Today this was forwarded to my facebook account. How he found me is completely beyond me. All he knew was my first name. That’s it. I could be freaked out- instead… quite flattered.  It doesn’t take much. 

Immortolised

Waking up a coffee cup a newspaper unread
I had the sweetest dream last night and shes still in my bed
Wrapped up in the tangled sheets 
an angel next to me

sometimes loves like loves the breeze that blows where it blows I suppose
sometimes love blooms for a day like my sweet lovely rose

glass of wine she was writing lines in a diary
I had to be a character a page in her story
wrapped up in the words she said 
the angel left with me

sometimes loves like loves the breeze that blows where it blows I suppose
sometimes love blooms for a day like my sweet lovely rose

she had to go where I dont know
but we had a moment in time
but just for a day I can say she was mine

I got dumped in a parkette.

It’s been a long time since I’ve shacked up with someone and even longer since I’ve been dumped.  I rarely meet anyone that I like in a real intimate way. I’m not sure if I’m scared of commitment or too damn proud to get attached to anyone-but either- I don’t.  And then there was August 2008. I met a man who I’m pretty sure made me happy.  It’s hard to say now since it’s all in retrospect.  I look back and remember only the good things. My friends are trying to force me to remember the bad things.  

 

Needless to say my crazy barometer is on overdrive. I go to yoga class and I think of him. My poses have never been as terrible as they are right now.  I can’t get him out of my head. It’s driving me nuts. This isn’t me! I’m not that weirdo obsessive girl!! But, apparently…I am. What is happening here?  It’s kinda nice because it’s reminded me that I’m female.  Sometimes I forget that I have feelings.  This man reminded me that I do.  He reminded me that…..oh yeah- it’s shit to get dumped. It’s even worse when you have only been dating for like no longer than a month and your only real problem was that my sex drive was way higher than his. Wait a second- him not wanting to pound me was a pretty huge problem. Retrospect is wicked.

A song cause I’m going crazy…..

You dumped me in a parkette! You dumped me in a parkette!

I got dumped. In a small park.  

You said you were sorry as miniature poodle barked.  

The dog was protesting what I wish I could say.

For example: “I don’t want to get dumped on this sunny day”.  

You left me alone in that north toronto mini-park.

I teared up a bit while I wrote a big question mark.

You had a hairy back and you wore fake glasses…

But still want to kiss you in front of the masses.

I’m a little bit crazy right now. I don’t care how I sound.

I wish you would call and I would hear your voice rebound.

I wish you were reading this to know how I feel.

You are a cutie with a big heart and I want my heart to heal.

You broke it a little but it feels kinda right.

Cause I feel more human than I did last night. 

Mother fucker you dumped me in a park on a corner.

Why didn’t you want to fuck me, or get a boner?

You liked to kiss my forehead and hold my hand tight.

But to touch my vagina seemed out of sight.

Now’s not the time time to bitch- but it looks like that’s what I’m doing.

I want you to call cause I sure miss the spooning.

Motherfucker dumped me in a parkette.

How do I get over this? Fuck. Shit. Fuck.