I swear something will be coming from me soon. Until then, here's an awkward moment between Darcy and Chickenkiller....
Chicken killer: umm
Chicken killer: this 33 yr old lady wants to meet me from pof
Darcy: Lovely...
Chicken killer: she lives 4 hrs away
Darcy: Did you say no thank you/
Chicken killer: i said i would need to get to know her more
Darcy: Well, that's good.
Chicken killer: she nah you wont understand
Darcy: I won't understand, or she didn't understand when you said that?
Chicken killer: 'you wont
Darcy: Well, I'm okay w/ that too.
Chicken killer: she a wiccan
Darcy: Well, what's wrong w/ that?
Chicken killer: do know what they can do
Darcy: Like a crazy wiccan, or a "I love they earth" type?
Darcy: Because I grew up w/ a wiccan friends....
Chicken killer: noo
Chicken killer: they can astro project
Darcy: Huh? Okay, so she's the "crazy" kind?
Chicken killer: she was there in my room last nighjt
Darcy: Matt... That's kinda ridiculous...
Chicken killer: see
Chicken killer: you dont understand
Darcy: Did she tell you that, and then you "felt" it?
Chicken killer: felt
Chicken killer: and saw
Darcy: I just want to make sure she's not tricking you or anything...
Chicken killer: dude
Chicken killer: i know how to astro project
Chicken killer: and she was in my room telling me to meet her
Darcy: Really?
Chicken killer: i hate it
Darcy: And how long have you been able to do this?
Chicken killer: since
Chicken killer: 15
Darcy: Where do you go when you're doing it?
Chicken killer: why
Chicken killer: i meet this girl name holly and we hang out
Darcy: No, I meant when you astro project...
Chicken killer: ya
Chicken killer: i hang out with this girl
Chicken killer: name holly
Darcy: But where?
Chicken killer: where ever she wants to go
Darcy: How far away from yourself?
Darcy: Is Holly the Wiccan, or a different person who can do it too?
Chicken killer: holly is a girl i ment a long time ago
Chicken killer: who i ment from asto projecting
Chicken killer: and i wish i can fine where she lives
Chicken killer: so we can really date
Darcy: Huh...
Chicken killer: i dont know where she from
Darcy: Can you talk to her?
Chicken killer: when i do it yes
Chicken killer: we can talk and walk and ot her stuff too
Darcy: Have you tried asking where she lives?
Chicken killer: she doesnt want to tell me
Anybody want to shed some light on this? Seriously...
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Yay, something to post
This is the message I just got on match:
Can you tell me your name? My name is Joe.
You have a good day and take care,
Joe
And yes, I could tell you my name. But no, I'm not. He's a little older than any guy I would be willing to date (try 39) and his entire profile reads like Yoda wrote it. His tagline (or whatever you want to call it) says "A Person Who is Really Special Very Much is Who I Seek". What? His info? Be prepared for this, cause I'm reading it out loud and I can't wrap my brain around it. I don't know if it's supposed to be a poem, but I know some poets and I think that they would agree this is pretty much...nonsense.
You Deserve a Poem
You wonder who I am, quiet, reserved and secretive, others notice emotions, felt, wonder how to draw me out. Stubborn and tough, fight position, enjoy life at cutting edge, life experienced intensely and totally. Courageous and taking calculated risks, sensitive, curious and concerned with deeper mysteries of human psychology, subject, pursue with total fanaticism. Patient, prolong and savor enjoyable times. Warm. Results from any situation, abstractions difficult to comprehend, mold, and shape things. Careful thinker, present ideas visually, concretely, useful for attention, cautious, conservative in thought, slow to opinions, appeal to logic, and reason. Affectionate and hates to be tied down. Aggressor, initiate relationships and set sights on someone. Action motivated by morals and ideals. Work to improve on world, demand action and don't like to sit and talk. Like action. Resist attempts to limit freedom, assist anyone who feels put down and restricted. Expansive, ease doing something practical, enjoy duty, and carry responsibilities. Gladly take tasks others avoid. Choice makes me ill at ease. Must have firm, ordered and secure foundation in life to feel comfortable. I have free, unstable, unconventional approach to relationships, and emotional commitments. Experiments in marriage, shared lifestyles and freedom important than entangle emotional bonds. Attracted to bizarre, interested in deep, mystery, explore, idealize benefits can accrue from study of occult, and healing. Finished horror book; art, poetry, NYC, Port Chester and CT. Take notes, five fictions and romance novel. Movies: Lamora, Portrait of Jenny, Citizen Kane, etc. I choose dull colors over bright. Artists: Robert Williams, Winston Smith, Norman Rockwell, etc. Magazine: Juxtapoz. Publishing companies: Last Gasp and Feral House. Design: Victorian, Art Deco, etc. (How a lady should be treated.) Not tell you what to do, secret and adventurous frontiers. Won't conquer you and initiatives come from you. Ask me and I’ll do it immediately. Challenge you. Converse in trees, flowers and ecology in romantic restaurant, you'll not find me try to break your habits. Various questions in conversation, talk to you of tomorrow what I'll participate in (with you.) Speak of books. People watch, lessons in dance, language and travel. Walk and arrange shared activities. Can be in beginning, gossip, change topics doesn't bother me. Play games never offends me. Help execute your plans. Mention to you different ways you're beautiful, nice and good. Take you to movie/theater and be your audience. I will not put you down. Mention to you if I’ll get advice, opinion and humor in what I say and in action. You'll feel peace. You'll be appreciated of your job. I forbid anyone to push you into a decision; we’ll weigh pros and cons. You'll be asked if you have artistic and aesthetic desires. You'll hear a favor from you to mention how I dress, your opinion of interior design. You'll have my point-of-view if you need it; you'll balance in peace and harmony. Prepared, your deepest emotions, jealousy, won't delve into your past if you prefer. Show you what I decide, go for with a smile. Light candles. Bring up something unheard. Mysterious places. Can you/would you admit if you like to be teased? Perform unusually, witty, and unpredictable, you don't want to be shocked, I understand. Hike, venture in another town. I'll know your philosophy. A lady who is secured, notice me being experimental. A woman will be encouraged to make dreams a reality. A person is given strength. A noblewoman receives poems. You'll be touched as your palm is read. A female finds out of a dreamy moment, a gentle woman with someone who acknowledges however to treat a female person with respect, from a man who is real. You're a lady, how you should be treated, and one day at a time. Can't forget a relationship is destiny because if anything else replacing destiny only ruin the relationship.
I am so confused. Seriously and totally so confused.
Can you tell me your name? My name is Joe.
You have a good day and take care,
Joe
And yes, I could tell you my name. But no, I'm not. He's a little older than any guy I would be willing to date (try 39) and his entire profile reads like Yoda wrote it. His tagline (or whatever you want to call it) says "A Person Who is Really Special Very Much is Who I Seek". What? His info? Be prepared for this, cause I'm reading it out loud and I can't wrap my brain around it. I don't know if it's supposed to be a poem, but I know some poets and I think that they would agree this is pretty much...nonsense.
You Deserve a Poem
You wonder who I am, quiet, reserved and secretive, others notice emotions, felt, wonder how to draw me out. Stubborn and tough, fight position, enjoy life at cutting edge, life experienced intensely and totally. Courageous and taking calculated risks, sensitive, curious and concerned with deeper mysteries of human psychology, subject, pursue with total fanaticism. Patient, prolong and savor enjoyable times. Warm. Results from any situation, abstractions difficult to comprehend, mold, and shape things. Careful thinker, present ideas visually, concretely, useful for attention, cautious, conservative in thought, slow to opinions, appeal to logic, and reason. Affectionate and hates to be tied down. Aggressor, initiate relationships and set sights on someone. Action motivated by morals and ideals. Work to improve on world, demand action and don't like to sit and talk. Like action. Resist attempts to limit freedom, assist anyone who feels put down and restricted. Expansive, ease doing something practical, enjoy duty, and carry responsibilities. Gladly take tasks others avoid. Choice makes me ill at ease. Must have firm, ordered and secure foundation in life to feel comfortable. I have free, unstable, unconventional approach to relationships, and emotional commitments. Experiments in marriage, shared lifestyles and freedom important than entangle emotional bonds. Attracted to bizarre, interested in deep, mystery, explore, idealize benefits can accrue from study of occult, and healing. Finished horror book; art, poetry, NYC, Port Chester and CT. Take notes, five fictions and romance novel. Movies: Lamora, Portrait of Jenny, Citizen Kane, etc. I choose dull colors over bright. Artists: Robert Williams, Winston Smith, Norman Rockwell, etc. Magazine: Juxtapoz. Publishing companies: Last Gasp and Feral House. Design: Victorian, Art Deco, etc. (How a lady should be treated.) Not tell you what to do, secret and adventurous frontiers. Won't conquer you and initiatives come from you. Ask me and I’ll do it immediately. Challenge you. Converse in trees, flowers and ecology in romantic restaurant, you'll not find me try to break your habits. Various questions in conversation, talk to you of tomorrow what I'll participate in (with you.) Speak of books. People watch, lessons in dance, language and travel. Walk and arrange shared activities. Can be in beginning, gossip, change topics doesn't bother me. Play games never offends me. Help execute your plans. Mention to you different ways you're beautiful, nice and good. Take you to movie/theater and be your audience. I will not put you down. Mention to you if I’ll get advice, opinion and humor in what I say and in action. You'll feel peace. You'll be appreciated of your job. I forbid anyone to push you into a decision; we’ll weigh pros and cons. You'll be asked if you have artistic and aesthetic desires. You'll hear a favor from you to mention how I dress, your opinion of interior design. You'll have my point-of-view if you need it; you'll balance in peace and harmony. Prepared, your deepest emotions, jealousy, won't delve into your past if you prefer. Show you what I decide, go for with a smile. Light candles. Bring up something unheard. Mysterious places. Can you/would you admit if you like to be teased? Perform unusually, witty, and unpredictable, you don't want to be shocked, I understand. Hike, venture in another town. I'll know your philosophy. A lady who is secured, notice me being experimental. A woman will be encouraged to make dreams a reality. A person is given strength. A noblewoman receives poems. You'll be touched as your palm is read. A female finds out of a dreamy moment, a gentle woman with someone who acknowledges however to treat a female person with respect, from a man who is real. You're a lady, how you should be treated, and one day at a time. Can't forget a relationship is destiny because if anything else replacing destiny only ruin the relationship.
I am so confused. Seriously and totally so confused.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Hmm
How creepy is someone when a creepy thinks that they are creepy? I wonder....
Darcy: We don't have v-ball practice today because of the holiday.
Darcy: But there's a game tomorrow.
Chickenkiller: are you a couch
Darcy: Yeah.
followed by....
Chickenkiller: spoke to this werid girl on pof the other day
Darcy: she said she cant stop thinking about me
Darcy: Well aren't you lucky?
Chickenkiller: and she was like when can we meet so my dreams can come true
Darcy : wow...
Chickenkiller: and i knew her for 2 days
Darcy: Yeah...isn't that a bit odd?
Chickenkiller: ya so i blocked her
Chickenkiller: i wish u live in ny
Chickenkiller: so we can hang out
And that was that
Darcy: We don't have v-ball practice today because of the holiday.
Darcy: But there's a game tomorrow.
Chickenkiller: are you a couch
Darcy: Yeah.
followed by....
Chickenkiller: spoke to this werid girl on pof the other day
Darcy: she said she cant stop thinking about me
Darcy: Well aren't you lucky?
Chickenkiller: and she was like when can we meet so my dreams can come true
Darcy : wow...
Chickenkiller: and i knew her for 2 days
Darcy: Yeah...isn't that a bit odd?
Chickenkiller: ya so i blocked her
Chickenkiller: i wish u live in ny
Chickenkiller: so we can hang out
And that was that
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sometimes I don't even have to try
I know I haven't updated in a while. Fear not, here's a post to tide you over. There is a guy that I've been talking to that I kind of like (he reminds me of Dickhole Pete in his general awesomeness. That's the only way that they are similiar) but I haven't thought of a name yet. So be ready for that when it comes.
Instead, I bring you a story. It actually doesn't involve me at all. We all remember Trogdor correct? Well, Trogdor wanted to be a writer. He's not a very good writer. I know some people that are actually good writers. He is so not one of them. He wrote a story of erotic fiction. And here it is (warning - there's some inappropriate language in here...nothing worse than what I've said though....)
Rising on the Road
Erotic Fiction - Heterosexual
Written by Trogdor
My name’s Chris. I’ve always been one of those introverted, bookish types. You’ll never see me travel without a book in my hand. Jeez, you’ll never see me without a book in my hand period. I only say travel because this story takes place on a bus ride from New York to Boston. I was going there to see an old friend from college. After an excruciating wait at Gate 84 of Port Authority Bus Terminal, I found a window seat towards the back of the bus. I open my duffel bag, take out my copy of Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms, close the bag, and put it in the overhead compartment. I open it up and begin reading.
As I read, this lean-looking blonde with hazel eyes, a solid figure, tight black pants, and a white tank top stops at the seat next to me and sits down. I attempt to appear enraptured in my book. She looks over and asks, “What are you reading?” I tell her. She says, “That cover’s hot.” The cover is of a man and woman engaged in a passionate kiss. I tell her, “Yeah. Those are the main characters.”
“Is it a romance?”
I guess you don’t know your Hemingway too well, I think to myself. “Kinda,” I said. “It takes place during World War I, and this ambulance driver falls in love with a nurse.”
“Really,” she says. “Do they have hot sex?”
“Oh yeah,” I tease. “They do it in the hospital, they do it in the ambulance, they even do it in the guys’ barracks.”
“Really,” she said as her hazel eyes took on that seductive glare.
“Yeah, really,” I respond.
“Can I borrow it for a bit?” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.
“Well, what would you do for it?”
“I’ll take out my blanket and share it with you.”
I put my chin between my thumb and forefinger, look at her for a few seconds, and say, “Oh fine, if you insist.”
“Jerk,” she says lightly as she taps me lightly on the shoulder.
She reaches into the overhead compartment, takes out a white blanket decorated with red lips, and spreads it over both of us. In return, I hand her the book.
The bus driver makes his announcements about final destinations, rules for bus etiquette, etc., as I take out my journal and begin writing, while she starts reading. Pure silence for an hour, as she continues to read and I begin writing random thoughts in my journal. “Horny.” “Suck me.” “Lick me.” “Fuck me.” As these thoughts are making their way to the paper, I feel a tiny hand rubbing against the upper part of my left leg. That hand, of course, is connecting to her body, while her eyes stare straight ahead with a seductive glare, as if she’s trying to bed the back of the seat in front of her.
She unzips my pants slowly. She then reaches in and fondles my genital area outside of my underwear. My penis is throbbing hard. As she continues to fondle, I reach my left hand under her blanket and begin to rub against her bare leg. Her glare turns to a smile, as she closes her eyes and gives a hard squinty smile. I slowly move her leg and towards her thigh, just above the seam of her pants. I then reach my hand inside her pants and begin to fondle with the tip of her clitoris. She begins breathing heavily as she strokes my cock harder and faster. I reach my fingers into her pussy and start fingering in and out. Harder. Faster. She breathes heavier and her pussy gets wetter as she strokes faster and my cock gets harder. I’m full of aggression as I feel fire coming out of my nose as I fondle harder. My cock is now at its maximum erectional capacity. I feel sperm coming on as I fondle harder, and I shoot right into her hand as her clitoris retracts. She closes her eyes and the lips of her mouth spread out in a wide smile. She lays her head on my chest as I scratch her leg slowly. I feel my eyes closing shut.
I’m woken by an announcement that says, “We’re now arriving in Boston. Please check around your seating area for any items you may have brought on board.” I slowly open my eyes as my new companion slowly lies off my chest and raises her arms. I do the same and give her a smile. As I’m wondering what to say, she reaches into the overhead compartment and pulls down her pocketbook. She takes out a pen and a piece of paper and writes on it. “Give me a call when you get back to New York,” she says as she smiles seductively, flips her hair around, and walks into the aisle. I take it out and it reads, “212-745-1893.” No name?
That explains so much. Just so much. Who writes like that? When I read "maximium erectional capacity" I almost died. That's just not right. But you can bet your ass I am going to use it whenever I can. It's just such an awkward story and it's not written well and geeeeeeeeeeeeeeez.
As I said to Summer...Trogdor wanting to be a writer and getting erotic fiction published is on par with me wanting to be a radio DJ (cause I do) and instead being a phone sex operator. It's just not the same and doesn't equal what you're looking for.
Instead, I bring you a story. It actually doesn't involve me at all. We all remember Trogdor correct? Well, Trogdor wanted to be a writer. He's not a very good writer. I know some people that are actually good writers. He is so not one of them. He wrote a story of erotic fiction. And here it is (warning - there's some inappropriate language in here...nothing worse than what I've said though....)
Rising on the Road
Erotic Fiction - Heterosexual
Written by Trogdor
My name’s Chris. I’ve always been one of those introverted, bookish types. You’ll never see me travel without a book in my hand. Jeez, you’ll never see me without a book in my hand period. I only say travel because this story takes place on a bus ride from New York to Boston. I was going there to see an old friend from college. After an excruciating wait at Gate 84 of Port Authority Bus Terminal, I found a window seat towards the back of the bus. I open my duffel bag, take out my copy of Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms, close the bag, and put it in the overhead compartment. I open it up and begin reading.
As I read, this lean-looking blonde with hazel eyes, a solid figure, tight black pants, and a white tank top stops at the seat next to me and sits down. I attempt to appear enraptured in my book. She looks over and asks, “What are you reading?” I tell her. She says, “That cover’s hot.” The cover is of a man and woman engaged in a passionate kiss. I tell her, “Yeah. Those are the main characters.”
“Is it a romance?”
I guess you don’t know your Hemingway too well, I think to myself. “Kinda,” I said. “It takes place during World War I, and this ambulance driver falls in love with a nurse.”
“Really,” she says. “Do they have hot sex?”
“Oh yeah,” I tease. “They do it in the hospital, they do it in the ambulance, they even do it in the guys’ barracks.”
“Really,” she said as her hazel eyes took on that seductive glare.
“Yeah, really,” I respond.
“Can I borrow it for a bit?” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.
“Well, what would you do for it?”
“I’ll take out my blanket and share it with you.”
I put my chin between my thumb and forefinger, look at her for a few seconds, and say, “Oh fine, if you insist.”
“Jerk,” she says lightly as she taps me lightly on the shoulder.
She reaches into the overhead compartment, takes out a white blanket decorated with red lips, and spreads it over both of us. In return, I hand her the book.
The bus driver makes his announcements about final destinations, rules for bus etiquette, etc., as I take out my journal and begin writing, while she starts reading. Pure silence for an hour, as she continues to read and I begin writing random thoughts in my journal. “Horny.” “Suck me.” “Lick me.” “Fuck me.” As these thoughts are making their way to the paper, I feel a tiny hand rubbing against the upper part of my left leg. That hand, of course, is connecting to her body, while her eyes stare straight ahead with a seductive glare, as if she’s trying to bed the back of the seat in front of her.
She unzips my pants slowly. She then reaches in and fondles my genital area outside of my underwear. My penis is throbbing hard. As she continues to fondle, I reach my left hand under her blanket and begin to rub against her bare leg. Her glare turns to a smile, as she closes her eyes and gives a hard squinty smile. I slowly move her leg and towards her thigh, just above the seam of her pants. I then reach my hand inside her pants and begin to fondle with the tip of her clitoris. She begins breathing heavily as she strokes my cock harder and faster. I reach my fingers into her pussy and start fingering in and out. Harder. Faster. She breathes heavier and her pussy gets wetter as she strokes faster and my cock gets harder. I’m full of aggression as I feel fire coming out of my nose as I fondle harder. My cock is now at its maximum erectional capacity. I feel sperm coming on as I fondle harder, and I shoot right into her hand as her clitoris retracts. She closes her eyes and the lips of her mouth spread out in a wide smile. She lays her head on my chest as I scratch her leg slowly. I feel my eyes closing shut.
I’m woken by an announcement that says, “We’re now arriving in Boston. Please check around your seating area for any items you may have brought on board.” I slowly open my eyes as my new companion slowly lies off my chest and raises her arms. I do the same and give her a smile. As I’m wondering what to say, she reaches into the overhead compartment and pulls down her pocketbook. She takes out a pen and a piece of paper and writes on it. “Give me a call when you get back to New York,” she says as she smiles seductively, flips her hair around, and walks into the aisle. I take it out and it reads, “212-745-1893.” No name?
That explains so much. Just so much. Who writes like that? When I read "maximium erectional capacity" I almost died. That's just not right. But you can bet your ass I am going to use it whenever I can. It's just such an awkward story and it's not written well and geeeeeeeeeeeeeeez.
As I said to Summer...Trogdor wanting to be a writer and getting erotic fiction published is on par with me wanting to be a radio DJ (cause I do) and instead being a phone sex operator. It's just not the same and doesn't equal what you're looking for.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I just laughed so hard, people must think I'm crazy....
Gee, thanks Darcy!
Chickenkiller52: hey darcy
D: Hey Chicken!
D: How's it going?
Chickenkiller52: good and u
Chickenkiller52: i kissed a girl the other day
Chickenkiller52: and she told me she doesnt want to be my friend becuz i kiss bad
D: Aww..that stinks... Well, that's at least another person you know you don't want to be w/.
Chickenkiller52: its ok
D: And I'm doing well..Getting ready for practice...
Chickenkiller52: i need practice
D: :)
Chickenkiller52: i cant kiss u
D: I'm sure that will all come in due time.
Chickenkiller52: u live far
D: I wasn't suggesting it. :)
Chickenkiller52: ohh
Chickenkiller52: i was
D: I realized.
My favorite part? The end where Darcy says "I realized". I can just imagine her saying that...
Chickenkiller52: hey darcy
D: Hey Chicken!
D: How's it going?
Chickenkiller52: good and u
Chickenkiller52: i kissed a girl the other day
Chickenkiller52: and she told me she doesnt want to be my friend becuz i kiss bad
D: Aww..that stinks... Well, that's at least another person you know you don't want to be w/.
Chickenkiller52: its ok
D: And I'm doing well..Getting ready for practice...
Chickenkiller52: i need practice
D: :)
Chickenkiller52: i cant kiss u
D: I'm sure that will all come in due time.
Chickenkiller52: u live far
D: I wasn't suggesting it. :)
Chickenkiller52: ohh
Chickenkiller52: i was
D: I realized.
My favorite part? The end where Darcy says "I realized". I can just imagine her saying that...
Friday, September 19, 2008
Admitting something really bad....
Here’s the secret – Miley Cyrus and I? Total BFFs. How do I know this? Simple. Everytime I listen to “7 things I hate about you” I can imagine a boyfriend (it’s Boots. I should stop trying to be coy, because it’s Boots. FUCKING BOOTS) and I sing along. Except I don’t have just 7 things I hate about him. I have so many more than that. And the parts that she loves, which are mostly the same as the parts that she hates? Not so much in my case. I would share these things but A) it would be horribly boring B) I don’t think I really could name all the things that made me angry C) there very few things I like, but the ones I do like would be total overshares (not that I’m not into oversharing…but this is a massive overshare and D) I just don’t care enough.
But when she’s singing about hating his hair and his eyes and how he loves her but likes someone else…it’s like it’s my life! I share a life with a 15 year old pop star. We’re so alike, you know. Her dad is Billy Ray Cyrus….my dad listens to country music. She has her own TV show….I amuse myself thinking I’m on my own TV show. She has thousands of adoring fans…there are 7 people that read my blog! We’re so even.
I read a blog post today (remember my problem with Google reader? Good, me too) about how some girls whine about not having boyfriends. And the first thought I had was “ohmygodisthatmeIreallyhopenot”. Seriously. Just like that, all my words crammed together in one, big awkward word. Am I that whiney? I don’t think I whine about being single. I’m not going to lie, being single isn’t exactly my idea of a fun time, but it’s not so bad. I guess I’m just getting tired of myself, you know? I like hanging out with my friends and having fun and never having to check with someone to make sure that I’m not supposed to be anywhere else…but I bore myself. I’m done with dragging my friends to see movies that they don’t want to see and going out to bars and dancing with myself because some people (like SUMMER) don’t dance. I just want someone to bring some more entertainment into my life. And I need a boy because I can’t be a girl all the time. I can’t. It’s just not in me. I’m not really a tom-boy, persay, but I just can’t put on makeup and heels and prance around all the time. Mostly because instead of prancing, I crash into things and hurt myself. And really, trying to make yourself really interesting is actually totally exhausting. I just want to…holy crap, now I am the whiney girl. Sorry guys.
But seriously, am I being whiney? Someone? Anyone?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Might as well face it, you're addicted to blogs
I have Google reader. This is very dangerous. Google reader may or may not be the reason that I get nothing done at work. I’m sure it totally has nothing to do with how much I hate my job. Regardless, it’s awesome. If you don’t have Google reader and you read a lot of blogs, you better get your ass on it. Also, it helps to make you not look like a stalker crazy person from someone that might have Google analytics. Not that I would obsessively check blogs I liked all the time. Nope, not me.
I’m getting away from the point though (if I actually have one, that is). I’ve been reading all sorts of blogs. Some of the blogs I found through 20 something bloggers and some of them I found through other people’s blogs. Regardless, almost all of the blogs that I read are written by 20 something ladies that are just as lovely as myself. Here’s the thing – we’ve all been burned so badly. We all have a Boots in our life. We all have an ex-boyfriend that we KNOW is so bad for us, but we continue to think that maybe MAYBE things would work again. These girls, whoever they are, are with me in this mess. They are searching for some man that isn’t going to be like the others. We all are. And in that, we are together. It makes me wonder how many of us there are. I’m sure that there are thousands. But it makes the situation seem somehow not so terrible. Sometimes, I’m selfish with my feelings. I feel like when I’m upset or depressed or angry that I am the ONLY person that has ever felt that way. I know, deep down, that I’m not. But because I’ve become so wrapped up in myself, I can’t think of that. It’s nice to know that there are other people that have thrown everything they had into a relationship only to have the bottom drop out of them. It’s a relief to know that other girls have thought that they could make it work with an ex because they just needed him to be back in their life, even if it would be total chaos. And it’s awesome, so awesome, to know that some other girls feel the same sense of total anger that a guy could dump them for someone else. We know that we’re better than the guys that we dated. It doesn’t take the sting out of what’s going on. But we’ll be united.
The best part is the fact that most of them are hysterically funny and therefore, makes me feel inadequate. Thanks girls. In case you want to see what I’m talking about, check out these blogs:
...more than a blog
Chelsea talks smack
It's like I'm..mmmagic
Laughing thru my chardonnay
Strange Musing of a distrated spunk
This? Is not the life I ordered
And then, amongst us…a man. A man seeking a lovely lady. A man searching Match.com for someone who’s not a freak. He’s awesome and amuses me and he and I are on the same journey, just in different places and at different times. I have to give him a lot of credit for being a male blogger, nevermind a male blogger blogging about finding love on the internets. Check him out for serious.....
I’ve also just decided that perhaps we should make some sort of database that can include all these fuckhead men that seem to like to say one thing and do another or cheat on you or just break your heart for the fun of it. We could save a lot of other girls a lot of frustration. Of course, if it’s the girl that your boyfriend dumped you for, she deserves what she gets. Not that I’m mean and vindictive or anything. Again, that’s so not me.
Finally, I found this blog today. It amused me. I sent something in today…I bet when it’s posted, you’ll know it’s me. Reasons why I dumped you
I’m getting away from the point though (if I actually have one, that is). I’ve been reading all sorts of blogs. Some of the blogs I found through 20 something bloggers and some of them I found through other people’s blogs. Regardless, almost all of the blogs that I read are written by 20 something ladies that are just as lovely as myself. Here’s the thing – we’ve all been burned so badly. We all have a Boots in our life. We all have an ex-boyfriend that we KNOW is so bad for us, but we continue to think that maybe MAYBE things would work again. These girls, whoever they are, are with me in this mess. They are searching for some man that isn’t going to be like the others. We all are. And in that, we are together. It makes me wonder how many of us there are. I’m sure that there are thousands. But it makes the situation seem somehow not so terrible. Sometimes, I’m selfish with my feelings. I feel like when I’m upset or depressed or angry that I am the ONLY person that has ever felt that way. I know, deep down, that I’m not. But because I’ve become so wrapped up in myself, I can’t think of that. It’s nice to know that there are other people that have thrown everything they had into a relationship only to have the bottom drop out of them. It’s a relief to know that other girls have thought that they could make it work with an ex because they just needed him to be back in their life, even if it would be total chaos. And it’s awesome, so awesome, to know that some other girls feel the same sense of total anger that a guy could dump them for someone else. We know that we’re better than the guys that we dated. It doesn’t take the sting out of what’s going on. But we’ll be united.
The best part is the fact that most of them are hysterically funny and therefore, makes me feel inadequate. Thanks girls. In case you want to see what I’m talking about, check out these blogs:
...more than a blog
Chelsea talks smack
It's like I'm..mmmagic
Laughing thru my chardonnay
Strange Musing of a distrated spunk
This? Is not the life I ordered
And then, amongst us…a man. A man seeking a lovely lady. A man searching Match.com for someone who’s not a freak. He’s awesome and amuses me and he and I are on the same journey, just in different places and at different times. I have to give him a lot of credit for being a male blogger, nevermind a male blogger blogging about finding love on the internets. Check him out for serious.....
I’ve also just decided that perhaps we should make some sort of database that can include all these fuckhead men that seem to like to say one thing and do another or cheat on you or just break your heart for the fun of it. We could save a lot of other girls a lot of frustration. Of course, if it’s the girl that your boyfriend dumped you for, she deserves what she gets. Not that I’m mean and vindictive or anything. Again, that’s so not me.
Finally, I found this blog today. It amused me. I sent something in today…I bet when it’s posted, you’ll know it’s me. Reasons why I dumped you
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