Stop trying to add me on facebook

I don't think people realize that I keep denying them my facebook friendship. I mean, you don't get an alert saying "hey dude, you're being denied." But there are some people that just don't get it. And I'm not gonna let their arrogance/ignorance make me cave! I am denying you my witty quips and sassy status updates! Take that!

Bono is weezing in his sleep. Blogs are funny and, dated?

Weird.

Alix and the terrible horrible no good very bad days.

OK first off, let's go on record as saying that I try to keep very strong perspective in life. I wake up everyday grateful that I'm doing so in a first world country, where I mostly keep my head above water. I'm not stricken with Cholera in Zimbabwe. I'm not living in Europe during World War II. I'm not an Okie during the Dust Bowl. I'm neither barefoot, nor pregnant. So when life throws me some uncomfortable, shall we say "challenges" I generally swallow them down like a not-so-fresh oyster shooter and just keep on keeping on. But what happens when you just can't get that lump down? When you just keep trying to swallow it down? Well, you either end up choking on that foul shit, or it comes out spewing. Welcome to my spew.

Any of you that know me somewhat well know that I haven't been my usual happy-go-lucky self lately. 200nah, I want my money back has been sort of a mind-fuck thus far. I don't really feel any sense of stability. The grey cold relegates me to the couch in the miniscule amount of totally free time I have. The sunny days just make me feel guilty that I don't really take advantage of them. Whatever. Wallower.

This weekend started out perfectly fun and awesome. Until some self-entitled fucking douchebag motherfucker stole my purse on Saturday night. I take responsibility for my actions. If I'm a dick and I leave my shit out in stupid places, I realize that there are going to be risks. But such was not the case. I made my purse. It took a very long time for me to make, and it was a real source of pride for me. So what, should I not leave the house with something because I value it? Should I not ever let anything of personal value out of my sight for fear that some inconsiderate fucking asshole may covet it and then just TAKE IT? I can't help but feel some sick and fucked up sense of irony. That I've never stolen anything in my life, yet that this would happen. I don't believe in Karma. This is further proof of WHY I don't believe in Karma. Fuck Karma. Unless it's that I'm bearing the brunt of friends' karmic retribution. If that's the case, then fuck you douches. You bitches better start doing unto others, because there's only so much more stupid shit in what's been an almost constant cavalcade of stupid shit that I can take. So fucking make right.I totally blew off a friend that I haven't seen in months yesterday because I had no way of getting in touch with him because of the loss of my cell phone. I don't really like talking on the phone, but take it away from me and I feel utterly amputated from my family and my oldest friends that know and love me best.

My roommate fainted yesterday. My mother's in horrible pain from emergency root canals and I'm across the country unable to lend any sort of help. Because my cell phone is apparently my only reliable alarm clock, I overslept by an hour today and was unable to call work to notify them of what would be my inevitably tardy arrival. My dog shit all over my house. It was fucking pouring out and no one had lugged the garbage cans out to the curb yet.

It's funny, because I was commended last week by how patient I am on the telephone dealing with all the fucking animals that call us at the office. I have a feeling one of them will become my spewing target fairly soon.

And for a quote from one of my favorite movies:
Jack: Listen to Miss Smarty Mouth. Out there in the free world.
Adele: What's free about it?

That's right Adele. You tell 'em.

So that's it. I guess I'm done ranting. I don't really feel any better. I know, waah waaah waaah woe-is-me. Do me a favor, and don't say "it could always be worse." I fucking know that, hence my introduction. My fear is that inevitably, it will be.

Waaah. Waaaah.

So sad Alix left. You know when you make that first trip to Dairy Queen months (or days, depending on your willpower) after 'dieting' and you just say fuck all and order a medium cookie dough blizzard make with chocolate soft-serve and a diet coke? (you have to justify the ice cream, duh.)

There's that first bite and your mouth just doesn't know what to do with itself. Alix is that sensation of delayed satisfaction ... that favorite thing you don't even know how much you miss it until you have it again. And then you woof it down and it's gone and you know it's going to be another six months before you can justify it again? That's Alix. She's a blizzard. Apparently, a 'magical' blizzard.

On a completely seperate urban note, I have a cougar crush on Chris Brown (who didn't know that one) and I actually like Flo Rida's music. Gross.

Besitos de Besckstasy.

XOXOXOOXOXO

A really stellar compliment

I was called a "magical person" last night. What an awesome compliment. Heading back to Portland today. Not exactly as pumped on it as I thought I would be.

Layla's Journey: Accounting for my whereabouts because I'm a burnout

Ok, this is a selfish posting that's really more like what I'd jot into a journal, but don't have one. I just want to be able to remember how I spent all my time, and it just gets blurrier and blurrier, and super fun times get overshadowed or over shadow regular fun times. Run on sentence. No apologies, since no one is probs reading it anyway.

Sunday 14th: Becky's then Bayside
Monday 15th: Struggles' p.m.
Tuesday 16th: Mike DiMotta's slumber party. Beers and Little Shop of Horrors. Forest Hills looks like the inside of a snow globe. Beeyooteefull.
Wednesday 17th: Cards with assorted D-Gen. Scobee goodness with Eric.
Thursday 18th: Went into the city with parents. Shopped with mom, met with dad, visited the tree. Such a nice tree. Make it nice around the tree make it nice. Downtown to eat tasty Middle Eastern food. Then to 394. Rad fucking time. Probably the first time I was totally relaxed and all over enjoying myself. Funny commie pictures taken. Late night trip to Don Dons.
Friday 19th: Vegged out and slept all day since it was blizzarding. Necessary, to make it to UES and mini-McGill reunion. Great to see the 3711 St. Dominique crew. Good good whiskey filled times for the second night in a row. Taxi ride back to the Hobes, passed out past 4 again, and slept soundly.
Saturday 20th: Snuggled with kitties, my how they've grown. Trip to Brownstone with Janus and Beckstasy, hatched seemingly innocent plan to go to Secaucus. Dealt with pre-Xmas lunacy, attempted and failed quick getaway. Sad times for Jane's car. Quick quick quick getting ready and whisked away by the amazing Tiffanie. Visited her stellar man and sweet as pie pigdog. Then back to 394 for impromptu gathering, as freezing weather and a wise former roommate convinced us all that traveling to Manhattan was foolish. Good times had though some strange hostility permiated the scene. Visited Don Dons again, and again passed out. Rinse, lather, repeat.
Sunday 21st: Brunch with Dara at Freemans. Man I've been pissing through money, almost like I have it. Bounced around LES for a little bit and picked up some necessary NY cheapie items. Travelled back to Bayside, snatched parents car, off to see the Fagans and their newish daughter. What an awesome little kid. Too precious, too much fun. Sure to be trouble. Back to the city to see Struggles and bonus Damon. Fun times viewing Twins. Man that movie is appauling, yet totally addictive.
Monday 22nd Woke up sore, sleeping on couches sucks. Back to Bayside. Kelly Kapowski says hi. Picked up Jomo, Monday noon and Jamaica Queens funking. (Sorry it's in my contract as a douche from LI). Off to Great Neck to see Anna and Steph. Very fun. Back to Bayside, chowed with the rents. Whisked away by a kindly and wonderful young gent for the quintessential Long Island pre-Xmas date. Through careful and keen cooperation, we navigated Roosevelt Field successfully and made it out alive. Very very super nice and awesome fun evening. Really. Super awesome.
Tuesday 23rd Headed to Rahway to see my main bitch Beckstasy. Then we tackled the Jersey Gardens. Dined at Chili's, as per duh. I wish I could miniaturize Becky and carry her in my pocket at all times, because she really does make everything better. Yay.

Wow I'm all caught up. Not much time left here and I'm a lot sadder about it ending than I would have expected at all. Well, there are no guarantees my flight will even get me back on Friday. We shall see. Not really sure which way I'd prefer it.

I don't think I can handle boys

Yeah. I don't think I can. I'm either terribly cynical, or I get overly excited. Well, truth be told, I don't usually get overly excited. But when I do get excited, uccch it doesn't lat because then I can't stop thinking about it. Despite all my great attempts at NOT letting my imagination run wild, I've realized I can't really ever turn it off. I'm blaming it on being an only child. More reason to resent my mother.

I wish I could just give up and buy one of these and call it a day.



No I don't really want to give up. But I want to believe that magic can sometimes happen, and that I'm not imagining it.

Bah.

I'm a tool.

So, I didn't invite this boy home with me last night that I totally should have. Well, maybe it was a sort of good idea I didn't. I dunno. I mean, I didn't, because I thought it made me seem coy, and that I didn't come that easy, and that it was sort of punishment to him for previously acting aloof and like a general freak. But in the end, who's really being punished? I ended up going home just as alone as he did, and waking up the same way. So that's my punishment for playing games, which I really try to avoid. Games are stupid and not my bag. Don't know why I would decide to play them during a bourbon fueled evening, or really at all for that matter.

Uccchhhh. So now how do I make up for it? I mean, I don't think I necessarily OWE him an explanation, but I sort of feel maybe one is in order. Or maybe that's just my lonely lady parts talking.