Back off, I'm a scientific marvel

Thoughts

2008-04-26T06:42:00.000-07:00

Today I am sitting at work and I came to the realization that all of my life I had been searching for something to impress myself. I don't know if it makes any sense to say that it was all in vain, but the truth is, it was. I have spent so much time on a quest that I realized I had neglected to satisfy even my basic needs and demands. I put my interests behind a veil of delusion and approval seeking and I realize now that it is time to stop.

For as long as is recorded, I have been spouting off words of grandeur and a future that is going to be so outstanding that it will make even the most successful people seem like slackers. I was going to be the next big thing and I was not afraid of who I told and what they would think of me once I said what I thought. I was on a fast track to disappointment, but curse you if you ever told me that.

This all changed when I started to realize that all the effort I had put into this image and all this energy I put in to trying to prove things to the outside world and myself had all been a big waste. I do think that every even in life has a purpose and every "mistake" is anything but. It is safe to say that my life hasn't been wasted but the energy itself has been wasted. Realize now that it is OK to be where I am at in this point of my life. A realization that feels AMAZING.

Maybe I am not married. So what if I am broke? Maybe I don't have a good job. And Who cares that I am not some prestigious title as some of my peers and family are. I am me. I am the best me I can be. I am here and I am not going anywhere. I found through soul searching lately, that each and every moment in your life is leading you somewhere and it gives you exactly what you need to be complete. It is simply stated that it is proven to be the ideal moment because it is the moment you are currently in. A simple thought, but true.

I am quite sure that my future is going to be a good one. I know that it will be full of ups and downs. The key to it is, if I enjoy the moment, even the bad ones, I will be able to understand what life is all about.

It's like the song says, "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there ya have, the facts of life"

Blessed be.
Sarah

When it matters

2008-04-21T12:15:00.000-07:00

When it matters

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt
"
It is for you, just in case you are reading this. Much love.
"

My insecurity only matched by my zest for life.

My thoughts race

Stuck in the middle between ecstasy and madness

I am not even sure of what I am after.

Alive in the moment.

Smiling frantic as your mind aches.

I am that girl

My actions cause a mix of love and hate.

Even so you can't give me up.

I eat at you like an addiction

So manic so timid.

Enigmatic to the bone

You can't believe it has been ten years.

My next move a mystery

Your reaction is all but scripted.

We do this dance seemingly unaware of each other.

We never miss a step.

Dodging bullets that could break us

We still aim true every time.

I am not the girl you remember

You the same evermore.

Predict the end of this crazy ride

Spirutual as I am I don't think it possible to say.

We prove them wrong everytime.

Take my crazy as your own

Find insanity a welcomed friend.

I take your sensibilities and run.

And I shall see you when it matters.

Isn't it romantic

2008-04-21T12:14:00.002-07:00

Isn't it romantic?

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

Isn't it funny how far I have come.

If you would have told me the details

I would try to prove you wrong.

I know that I said I wanted to be with you

I wasn't prepared for what that would entail.

I was naive full of insane aparitions.

The wedding would be lovely and lavish.

Our nights would be passionate and never ending.

Our children would go to the finest schools.

We would die hand in hand.

Years went by and I never waivered in my plight.

I deserve a nobel prize for all the faith I put in you.

The moment of truth came upon me as I went in for the attack.

To tell the truth, I wasn't suprised when you didn't fight back.

You gave me what you thought I wanted from the likes of you.

You ran away with your tail between your legs when it came back on you.

I am sorry that I tried so hard to make the fairy tale real.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart for not sealing the deal.

You and Me Both.

2008-04-21T12:14:00.001-07:00

You and me both.

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

Dig a hole deeper than you can imagine.

Bury the memories of you and me.

What was will never be again.

You will not look to me for solace anymore.

And I won't answer your phone calls at 3 AM.

Who cares that I wore your band of faith?

Who cares that your kiss made my mind spin?

Who cares that you cried when I walked out on you?

Who cares? You and me both.

Find those letters I wrote you when we first met.

Tear them up and forget what I said.

It is possible I didn't mean any part of them.

Those impossible desires have long past their shelf life.

And I don't burn candles for you anymore.

Who hurts when the truth is uncovered?

Who hurts when the love is not returned?

Who hurts when fears of abandon come to be?

Who hurts? You and me both.

When you get chills down your spine when you see me hide.

The truth is deep and hiden in my smile.

What am I supposed to act like anyway?

I would be leading you on by being glad to see you.

This won't matter to me in 10 minutes anyway.

Who lies to cover up the regret of what they did?

Who lies when they want the other to come back crawling?

Who lies to themselve so they can rest at night?

Who lies?

Me. with out you.

It Is

2008-04-21T12:13:00.001-07:00

It is.

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

I run away

it's my old standby way

to not deal with you

I close the door

lock it tight behind me

never wanting to know

never knowing if you were behind it

I took my cues

did what I thougt was right

I played the part well

The girl who did as directed

I didn't wonder

Was this a mistake

Should I have fought for what was rightfully mine?

Does it matter anymore?

The sinking in my stomach

The lump in my throat

It is for you

Always for you

And you leave anyway

Just like you always had.

My words come out like a suicide letter

dripping with heartache

wanting to reach out

I give a false impression

I am not destroyed by you

Quite the opposite

Very much the opposite.

And Here I am

2008-04-21T12:12:00.000-07:00

And here I am.

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

When I woke up this morning I didn't see the alarm clock
I could hear it ringing regardless.
The first drag of my cigarette felt so empty
I drank my coffee and watched the news and all I saw was you.

I saw the curve of your elbow placed around my waist.
I saw your chest rise and fall with every breath you took.
I saw your face on the pillow next to me.
I saw you and it felt amazing.

I know it is just an illusion.
You are as far away as you have always been.
For some reason today I could almost feel you
I fell for you all over again.

Days will pass
This feeling is going to fade.
My laughter will be more genuine in time.
I will not be this pathetic girl for much longer.

You will come back again.
My life will be turned upside down again.
I will take you back for the last time.
I will prove stronger than you, if only in theory.

I think I finally understand your views on me.
I get it now and I am going to play along.
I hope you know that I know what the story is.
You should know that I will wait.

You can't accept losing me.
What will happen if you do?
I am too proud to wait for you forever.
You are too proud to tell you want me to.

We go around in a dizzying motion.
We say things we both might regret.
Trapped together in this life time.
Reliving our torture one day at a time.

I may have to be the first to tell you.
Why not, I always do all the work.
I love you more now than I ever have in my whole life.
Do with that, what you may.

Damn You

2008-04-21T12:11:00.001-07:00

Damn you

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

To you

I wish I could be less up front with how I feel.
I wish I didn't constantly search for reassurance from you.
I wish I didn't want to know if you wanted me
I wish I could be blase about you
But I can not.
I can't help it.
I am sorry.
I am
You know the power you hold over me.
You know that I am powerless against it
You know that you love how I flock to your whims
You know it
Damn you.
Why can't you tell me that you want me
Why can't you be the one to find me
Why can't you just be honest
Why can't you actually love me
Why?
Because you can't
And you won't
And I wont leave
and you know it.
Damn you.
Damn
You.

Congratulations

2008-04-21T12:10:00.000-07:00

Congratulations

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

Congratulations, you did the impossible.

You made it into my head again.

I told the world I would never let you

But congratulations, you made it in.

Kudos to you on the conquest you have won

My friends would all be angry if they knew what I've done

My mom told me not to fall for you again,

Kudos again on your amazing victory.

I can't even be angry with you this time.

You aren't at fault and I am certainly not a victim

We are both as guilty as we are victimized

I can't be angry with you for that.

The nights are long and intense with us so far apart.

That is the only time we are able to show ourselves.

Fleeting is the time we are allowed to be together

And the nights are just so long.

Congratulations, you've won out again.

Maybe next time I will put up more of a fight.

I am the one who said this was over.

Congratulations, you proved me a wrong.

Tony sang Buckley

2008-04-21T12:09:00.000-07:00

Tony sang Buckley

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

Overly prepared for this upheaval

I sat alone in a smokey bar

watching that man from LA sing Halleluah

I tried to picture my life with my other love

All I saw was you.

Reason and morality on the barstool next to me

I fell in love with you again.

Boundaries are down

Fancies flying free.

I am amazed.

Scenes played out in technicolor

As Tony Sang Buckley

And I swooned

And I cried

And I loved you unbridled

Unrestricted.

For a moment I was close to God,

For a moment I could breathe.

The final note came and I crashed.

Smoky air couldn't hide solitude

No music to trick me into forgetting

You are not mine

black and white

2008-04-21T12:08:00.001-07:00

black and white.

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

Love was always too bright.

Colors were too much,

We were misunderstood.

I am worn out thinking about it

But I love how we look in black and white.

We become innocent.

we seem so simple

stripped of colors and lights

A man's eyes too big for his past

A woman who saw all along

Facts that seem unnecessary

I love how we look in black and white.

Two people frozen in one moment

No complications

No turning back.

I love how we look in black and white.

We are simple

The truth is pure

In that moment our lives changed

We never seemed so honest.

It was so plain to the world.

There was no mistaking.

I love how we look in black and white.

The dancers

2008-04-21T12:07:00.001-07:00

The dancers

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

My fancy for you is beyond the bounds.

Yours for me is almost uncalled for.

We keep dancing in this arena

Bowing only for our flowers and applause

The applause has stopped

The flowers have long since stopped flying

We are the opening act in a cancelled show

Playing to an audience invisible.

We do not stop with this realization.

You take my hand and lead me in a waltz.

I know this is wrong immediately.

That fact doesn't leave with the wind in my hair.

There are pressing issues the public needs to know.

The answers we have to give are hard to admit.

We long to give our side to the story

To a public that have long since moved on.

We continue to dance around the empty floor.

The steps come like second nature

This is the performance of our lives.

We give to an audience of two.

Misconception

2008-04-21T12:03:00.000-07:00

Misconception

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

I enter the room and the energy rises.

There are whispers, sighs and wide eyed wonder.

No one can tell what I am going to do next.

Will I dance and throw my weight around?

Will I quietly retreat to the background?

Will I have too much to drink and cry all night?

You shall see.

People think I am all bark and no bite.

My teeth are sharp so I hope that is true.

This night will be one you can not have forseen

The only question is if all will end well.

Hearts and vases may get broken.

Put your shoes on to avoid the glass and sadness.

We are in for quite the ride.

I dazzle you with my stories and my perfumed body.

I exude radiance and you can't believe you were afraid
of me.

Sometimes your first thoughts are not on point.

You silently ask for my forgiveness and my passion.

Now the question is do I accept your apology and your
advances

Do I take you for the ride of your life?

I don't think so.

You were only half wrong about me.

I am not crazy, I just know what I want from you.

It takes more than fancy wine and a kiss on my neck to
get to me.

I assure you I am not those other women with low self
esteem and no tan lines

I laugh and sweep away into the music and the smoke.

Is it over between us on this most fateful night of
booze and assumption

I should say so.

Brutal

2008-04-21T12:01:00.001-07:00

Brutal

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

I asked for truth.

you gave it

No coddling

no softness.

your brutality

my vulnerability

Together as planned by god

I couldn't hold back

you didn't hold back

A victim you wouldn't let me be.

I tried to be coy

you said "not this time

you want answers

I will give you answers."

You were hard.

You were bold

Most of all you were heard.

Unsolicited questions.

Who was I to ask?

Why would I expect anything less.

Lines crossed by tortured feet

We can never go back.

We will never go back.

Thank you.

A mute point,

but none the less.

Tortured

2008-04-21T12:00:00.002-07:00

Tortured.

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

wind blows over my skin-

so cold, vibrant, free

I feel you

The breath of god on my cheek,

your grip on my everything

To me, the same

chains bound our freedom

rusty, old, about to break.

weigh heavy on my heart today

Scars from years held over

Marks left on my arms.

Match perfectly to those on yours.

Imagery seeping past closed lids

elagborate, vivid, decietful

Penance for what we stole.

I can never know

2008-04-21T12:00:00.001-07:00

I can never know.

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

Today I couldn't stop wondering about what would have happened had I just walked away at nice to meet you.

Had I gone and not pursued you, would I be able to hold my head up and face god and everyone? Had the affair never happened would I still feel like I was at fault for every thing going wrong in the wold?

I don't believe so, but I can never know.

If I had just let up, would we still be friends?

Would we be chatty on the phone if our crazy situation had never began?

Would I go to you with all my inner most secrets and desires and hopes for what paths lay down the road?

I don't believe so, but I can never know.

If we had never gone there, would I be your trusted advisor?

Would it be me you go to for all your advice on how to charm and please a woman?

Would I give you the inside track on the ways of love and how you can secure your place as prince charming in another woman's heart?

I don't believe so, but I can never know.

Do you wonder about these things and stress about the what if's?

Does your mind race with questions about how you will react when you see me with another man and I don't act happy to see you?

Do you think about these sorts of things at all?

I don't believe so, but I can never know.

What if I am wrong?

2008-04-21T11:59:00.003-07:00

What if I am wrong?

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

I am convinced

I am sure

I am your be all end all

I am the girl of your dreams.

But what if I am wrong?

I will put my faith in you

I will rest my head on you

I will feel safe with you

I will not want anyone but you

But what if I am wrong?

You are startled by my eyes

You dream of me at night

You see me when you look to heaven

You can't get me out of your head.

But what if I am wrong?

We will take the world by storm

We will hang our hats on the earth

We will be the subject of sonnets

We will live happily ever after.

But what if I am wrong?

What if you will take away my pain?

What if you will keep me safe?

What if you can't stop thinking of me?

What if we do belong together?

But what if I am wrong?

I know I should leave

I know I should start over

I know I should leave the past in my wake

I know I have no future here.

But what if I am wrong

2008-04-21T11:59:00.001-07:00

It's almost as if

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

It's almost as if nothing had happened.

Like ten years hadn't gone by in silence.

Like I didn't run as far away from here as I possibly could.

It's almost as if nothing had happened.

It's almost like I had forgotten.

Like I pushed away the sound of your voice.

Like I didn't know that you thought the world of me.

It's almost like I had forgotten.

It's almost as though I made it up.

Like I concocted this all while I dreamed.

Like I developed an elaborate hoax.

It's almost as though I made it up.

It's almost too much to understand.

This did happen.

I remember now

And it's almost too much to understand.

© 2008 Sarah McKeever Hitt

Rulers

2008-04-21T11:58:00.001-07:00

Rulers

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

I am in the mood to perpetuate the myth.

To convince you that you were right about the kind of girl I am.

I want to reassure you of your benevolence.

I think I am gonna tell you what you think you already know.

I will make myself fit into the square hole you forged for me.

I will bend, I will shift in order to be your perfect little girl.

My tears of revolution will be silenced by the love you give me so graciously

I will forget that I was ever so pigheaded and so free.

As you sit atop your throne and look down upon your kingdom in majestic glory

I pray that you remember the begining of my dedication to you.

The truth is not the myth and I am not an honest girl.

Hell is probably waiting for me to reign as part of a hierarchy of sinners.

I will wear the crown and rule over my subjects no questions asked.

As we both realize the different ways our hearts and souls work

we will finally see the true colors of each other.

The myth and the truth will combine and all will be well.

© 2008 Sarah McKeever Hitt

The games I play

2008-04-21T11:56:00.000-07:00

The games I play.

A Poem by Sarah McKeever Hitt

I see you.

down the hall.

my butterflies flutter

I look away post haste

Try to not.

But I knew it.

Baby I knew you were staring.

I don't look up.

Your eyes electrify me

as you look me over

I feel you wonder

"Does she not see me?"

Baby I see you.

Isn't it written all over my face?

I need to play this game with you.

I don't look up.

And you walk away.

Dreams

2007-12-15T07:13:00.001-08:00

So I had this dream last night.

I had a horrible dream last. I dreamt that I was somehow aware that Iran was going to launch a nuclear bomb at the US and I was so scared. I had all kinds of anxiety about this. I was calling everyone I knew asking them about if they thought we were going to have any warning about when the missle would be launched. I was so scared because I wanted to make sure I could get to an underground bunker before impact so I knew I would survive. I then worried about the radiation and how even if the bomb hit far away from Chicago, I would still be effected by the aftermath. It was so scary. I was a frantic mess.

I woke up and sighed a deep sigh of relief when I realized it was all a dream. I then started to recall what I had been watching before I fell asleep. I came to the conclusion that once again I was manipulated by the television in my dreams. I think you can understand when I tell you what show was on.

Everybody Loves Raymond.

In conclusion I just have to say, that the title is misleading. Everybody does not love Raymond. Just ask the people with their fingers on the button.

2007-12-04T17:02:00.000-08:00

Today there is a blizzard. Or rather, there is an alleged blizzard. Some outrageous amount of white powdery winter is to fall upon my city and you know, I am very excited about it. You can not imagine how many times I heard, "Oh my gawd, Why are you moving to Chicago? It SNOWS THERE!!!"

Oh really, does it? Hmmm. Do these people think that my level of intelligence is so low that the concept of snow is foreign to me? Come on people, I am born and bred Wisconsinite. I know all to well how cold it can get here. Just because I have lived in sunny central Florida for almost a decade doesn't mean that the memory of that frozen inch of skin between the edge of your coat sleeve and the end of your glove has been erased from my psyche. I remember all too vividly how no matter how cold it gets, your nose never stops running. I have placed many a mitten on radiators and slipped and slid down unsalted sidewalks.

So yes, it is snowing outside and it is really beautiful. One question though, WHY DID I MOVE TO CHICAGO?!?! It SNOWS HERE!

Skinny doesn't hide ugly.

2007-12-01T06:01:00.000-08:00

.

It has been a common bit of knowledge that I am a very tall girl who does not shy away from the occasional cheeseburger and pint of Ben and Jerry's. The fact that I am not a dainty flower who could blow away in a strong breeze used to be a sore spot for me and I used to do all I could to try and whip my old bones into an image of so-called beauty and acceptability. I tried them all, from Metabolife to Atkins and everything in between and I found that even if I dropped a few pounds, I became a vicious beast of rage and hunger. Well, I realized that I would much rather satisfy that part of me that yearns for carbs and salt and (oh yes) processed cheese than worry if I can fit into skinny jeans and tank tops.

I am not a fat person, I am tall. I am built like my native American ancestors, and I am finally at a place where I can look at myself and think, "Oh yeah, sexy lady! There is a demographic for this!" Now finding said group of tall thick women worshipers, is another story all together. It takes determination, luck, and a bit of humor, but I assure myself everyday, they are out there waiting. Wanting to be in the presence of a real woman, an amazon queen who will redefine their ideas of hotness. I am up to that task.

I am not looking for a chubby chaser. I am not interested in that guy who yearns for a rolly poley lady to experiment on and whose idea of foreplay is feeding a woman mashed potatoes and gravy while watching the food network. For one thing, I don't like gravy and for another thing, if you are a man who only likes one type of woman, you are completely not for me, I can be many types and my ideas are constantly changing so you would get frustrated with me. Also, I tend to find men who like gals with glandular problems a bit skeevy. I am just looking to enjoy a burger now and then, not to fill some weird void left by unresolved issues you developed from mommy only giving you watered down gatorade and triscuits in your lunch box.

The point I am making is simple. I like to eat and I am looking for a person who enjoys to eat as well. I like the way I look and sure, I think I could stand to get rid of a few extra inches. I am not going to let my curves stop me from anything. Skinny doesn't hide ugly and big mac's taste much better than Ex-lax any day of the week.

Hey, was that Grimmace's mom?

2007-11-21T13:20:00.000-08:00

Today I got onto the bus in my usual flair. I squeezed my ass in the very first seat and sat trying to appear to not be staring at anything in particular that I have noticed is the "proper etiquette" for bus travel. A few stops go by and as my mind wanders to a place of loathing uncharged Ipods and chicken sandwiches, a lady walks onto the bus wearing head to toe purple. Not to be judgemental of other passengers attire, (it is inappropriate seeing that I am wearing my uniform and gigantic winter coat) my mind wandered, as it tends to do, creating a fantastic world that I can only imagine such a lady would live in. I would like to expand on this now. Oh, and to save any confusion, I am writing this in first person. The voice of the purple fur coat.

"It's Wednesday. Maybe today I will be spared. Perhaps she will go with the pleather sear sucker rain coat. I am not asking for much really, a days rest from the elements. I know that I am by far the warmest article of outer wear that Bernice owns, and my busiest time is upon us and I am just going to have to suck it up. But please God, Buddha, Muhammad, Baby Jesus, I just want one day off.

Ok, she is up now. I heard the ding of her alarm and I am getting that all to familiar waft of Ben Gay and vodka. Maybe I am being unappreciative. She is an old woman and she has shown me great care in our time together. The trips to the cleaners where Lucille would use just the right amount of product and love on my beautiful fur outer layer would most likely seem missed on me if I wished for her to find a replacement. Oh hell, I am just going to deal with the inevitable. Another day on the city streets with Bernice. No rest for the wicked they say.

The clouds are rather ominous today and I do believe that the weather report that I overheard this morning while Bernie went about her morning applying her rouge and her fake eye lashes called for freezing rain and wind. Looks like a busy day for me today. Thank goodness we aren't going far, just to the market, the podiatrist and the clinic to pick up the drugs. Or as Bernice likes to call them, her magic tic-tacs of power. God bless the poor bird. God Bless her.

It is full on raining and about as windy as a full on hurricane. The #8 bus is late. But as Bernice says, "If the bus is early the driver gets fined 100 dollars. They can be late all they want but if they are early, they miss their customers, and really, what else is the purpose of a bus driver if they do not pick up customers? So you can almost understand the desire to be late. I mean those bus driver's need to keep all their money!" With that last word, Bernice throws up her fists, and screams "Power to the PEOPLE!" Her spunk is only to be matched by her funk.

After a long day of odd stares and icy cold winds, Bernice and I arrive home and she rubs me all over, purring like a kitten at my matted dingy outside. Her arthritic hands remind me of the old days of a martini holding, cigarette smoking Bernice and all the gentlemen who jockeyed positions to help my beloved lady across the streets of this cold, lonesome city. Those days long gone and Bernice long asleep, I can hear the pleather seer sucker snicker at me for having to have been put through another wet, long day on the street and I am left with one thought of solace. At least I am natural fur, and not synthetic. That thought alone helps me prepare myself. For, if nothing else, I don't have to live with the shame of trying to be something I am not. Even if I am an dyed an unnatural shade of purple."

el fin

Dear Granny Smith Apples

2007-11-17T10:57:00.000-08:00

Dear Granny Smith Apples

Hello
My name is Sarah.
How are you?
I pray this time of year finds you well and that you are content and comfortable. I just wanted to let you know that I do not like you.

First off, I would like it to be known that it is not the color of your skin. I, in fact, am rather fond of the color green. It is a nice soothing color that seems to calm me down for whatever reason. As you can imagine, I wanted to put the skin color issue to rest before you accuse me of intolerance. I stress again. My dislike of you has nothing to do with your skin color.

I also do not dislike strictly because of the fact that you are a granny. I love grannies. I would hope that you think more of me than to assume that I am some sort of grandmother disliking monster. Nothing could be further from the truth. You would note, if you took the time, that I have extensive experience dealing with the elderly. My heart goes out to grannies in particular seeing that I hope to be one some day. Not to mention that I enjoy bridge and Perry Cuomo .As I am sure you are intelligent enough to deduce, it would be a faux pas to even suggest this is some sort of blind hatred due simply to your name. Shame.

The truth of the matter, the underlying problem I have with you and your kind is quite simple. Your taste. If I wanted to eat a something grainy, green, and sour, just for the sake of having something in my mouth, I would choose Oliver. He is the 70 year old sausage and pepper salesman that lives downstairs. I imagine that you see what I am getting at here. The idea of inhaling the shank of an elderly man who smells of old spice and pork sausage grease far outshines eating you hands down, every time. EVERY TIME.

So, in closing, Granny Smith Apples, I say that, to say this. Vote For Clinton 2008

Yours truly,
Sarah M. Hitt

the secret

2007-11-06T15:14:00.000-08:00

So, after almost a decade of living in Whorelando, I have gotten used to warm weather and gay men. Now I live in Chicago and things are quite different.

One has to wonder, how is a girl supposed to go from steamy and humid nights watching her best gay male friend, rolling on E, make out with everyone in sight and afterwards cry to her about how hard it is to be gay while attempting to make out with her, to a life of quiet freezing cold nights of straight men who want to take her out to a bar and get to know her and get in her pants? The answer is simple, sunlamps and gay porn.

Thank god for substitutions.

The marriage question

2007-11-06T14:29:00.001-08:00

A gem of an idea

I am really sick of getting asked if I am married. And in response to me telling said inquisitor no, they always ask me why not then spouting into a longwinded rant about how I need to find a husband and how lovely it is to have someone to come home to. It is really disheartening to know that these people base their existance on marriage.

My new answer to this question is going to be as follows.

Them- You should meet a nice man and get married.

Me-I am married

Them- Oh yeah?

Me-I am married to Jesus Christ. (and then show them a grape ring pop) See my gorgeous ring. (Then lick it in front of them)

That should do the trick

The lords of subculture

2007-11-06T14:06:00.000-08:00

Trendy girls never seem to understand, when they are all consumed by the way their hair looks or how their purse matches their shoes, they don't pay a scosh of attention to the things that are really important. The things that are the true building blocks of human existence. Those things that embody all that is good, beautiful and fulfilling in life. Those which bring joy to millions and fulfil fantasies for those afraid to dream. I am, of course, referring to role playing games.

What better way to make Nirvana your new home than to break out the 20 sided dye and head to a world where even the most socially awkward A.V. god can slay dragons, cast spells and become a creature of the night? For my money, there is none.

True, players who indulge in these uberfantasy lands have been ostracized for their lack of people skills and carnal knowledge, but those facts seem irrelevant when you weigh the sheer majesty of their power. The ability to slay mystic beings using nothing more than imagination and an invisible dagger charm seems worthy of, at the very least, a medal of valor.

These men are true warriors of peace and justice, even if their mom's make them be home and teeth brushed by the the time the sun sets. Almost irrelevant is the fact that they are mostly in their late 20's, how crass of you for bringing that up in the first place.

Next time you (trendy girl) are out shopping for your new Prada bag to match your super cute Jimmy Choo shoes that perfectly compliment that Gucci dress that you are going to wear to that new martini bar, take a moment to thank our heroes residing in a suburban basement near you. Because really, nothing ruins a coke party like a 10 foot troll.

Wiggly Dr. Dre in the house.

2007-10-14T05:52:00.000-07:00

As I browsed Vision's myspace profile this early morning, I came across an interesting sight that has baffled me. I have always wondered if the sponsored link box at the top of the page some how was customized by the little myspace men who live in my computer to match the personality of the person whose page it appeared. Today I think I got my answer.

The first of the three links was for an amazing cd that featured the sugary creepiness of the Australian kids group the Wiggles. It boasts that you can pay your money (I believe it is about 14 bucks American) and recieve a cd that is personalized with your name or the name of your child in it. Yes, for this low price you can hear that wierd sickly Asian guy sing your name around 40 times on the cd. (It actually gave a number) To this I say, "Damn you Wiggles, and your devices of persuasion!!! You win again. I wonder if it sounds like a spooky computer voice like in "Drop Dead Gorgeous. One can only hope. That would make for a beautiful cherry on top of a creepy cake.

The second link was for a survey at a random site entitled, "Are you Dr. Dre?" No, I am not Dr. Dre. I am a suburban born white girl with very sheltered views and a very narrow mind. I am almost offended by the insinuation that I could be a gangster rapper. The closest I get to a hip hop mogul is when my hip pops when I walk. I suppose that makes me a hip pop mogul. Or is it mongrel? I don't know, probably a bit both. Maybe a mongrel mogul. Yes that is more like it.

On a side note, what happens if you are Dr. Dre and you take that quiz? Wouldn't you expect to get all questions correct? You be angered if you get that you are Will Smith or the BackStreet Boys. I would imagine that it must really grind your stones to have put so much time into an image of being a tough gunslinging G from C-o-m-p-t-o-n and then be called Celine Dion. Next time you are smokin the chronic with Dre, right as you pass the forty, ask him if he has taken the quiz. When he bitch slaps you and starts spouting words like, frontin, poser and honky lips, you will then know that he must have found out he was Clay Aiken, and the assault will almost seemed warranted.

The third and final like was for a site offering to "Pimp" your phone by adding house ringtones to it. This is fine, accept what if this brings up some serious memories for you? What if the word House reminds you of the time the bank seized your bungalow and you are forced to live in a small tenement that smells of old spice and urine with your molester uncle Ted and his 21 year old wife? One can almost come to the conclusion that this is a conspiracy set forth by the psychiatrist community. They would do anything to boost profits. Fucking headshrinkers. Always looking for a quick buck. Plus, house music is annoying.

The answer to my question is complete and clear. Yes, they do specifically pick the links based on the personality of the profile owner. Don't believe me? Well, I suppose you would call it it coincidence that when Vision was at my house he wiggled a lot when I told him I was Dr. Dre.