Goodbye Year of the Queers!

As I embark on my first alcohol-filled New Years, I would like to wish all of you out there in Journal Land to have a safe, drunken New Year. And I would also like to say a thank you in advance to Guiness, Ameretto Sours and of course, Asti. Hey, I'm classy, what can I say?

Goodnight, Sleepy Mind

Since I'm on a hiatus from school, my daily routine has changed dramatically. For me, the sun doesn't rise until 12:00p.m., when I wake up. It doesn't set until 4:00a.m., when I attempt to sleep. The soft green light of my stereo illuminates my bedroom, causing shadow figures to dance across my walls and keep me entertained while I try to lull myself to sleep. Josh Groban is usually the lullaby of choice, though his music just causes my mind to wander over wedding days and honeymoons and first dances and heartbreak. At some point I realize my eyes may be closed, but my mind is never asleep.

The Lifesized Dictionary

I've decided the word "ponder" came about  when 2 men went fishing on a small pond in thier canoe. There, they wondered and talked about the meaning of life and decided to call that "pondering."

Joe Camel Would Be Proud

In an otherwise uneventful day, I smoked myself silly with one of my friends.

I only do it when I'm frustrated. And I am.

I'm a girl and I have needs. I want a big house, a wonderful husband, a little baby and a happy little existence.

The plan isn't going accordingly.

There's no guy to be found. There's no one even half decent. So the baby is out of the question, too.

As for the house? Not much of a dream home can be purchased with $4000. And since I want a beautiful old Victorian to fix up or a brand new
house built just for me (I'd be happy either way) there's no chance in hell that'll be happening anytime soon.

My happy little existence?

It's lonely here.

Better Than Yoplait

I would like to thank the Academy.

And Sean for all the sex.

Have a steamy, sex-filled day. I know I will.

Move Over, Pavarotti

Josh Groban is a fine human being.

For those of you who aren't "in the know," Josh Groban is a beautiful young man with a voice that can make you have a tiny orgasm just by listening to him sing.

He sings, "To Where You Are," a superb ballad that makes me wet myself with pleasure and also the renowned, "You're Still You," which causes a stream of uncontrollable giggles and rosy cheeks.

Santy Claus brought me Josh's CD for Christmas and to thank him, he's going to recieve a coupon for Peppridge Farm Goldfish (tm) at his home in the North Pole to express my gratitude.

My Life, the Unromantic Comedy

If romantic movies make me bawl and bawl my eyes out, why do I watch them?

I'll tell you why.

I watch them because that's the only romance I'm getting. So what if it's Marisa Tomei or Charlize Theron on the recieving end of what I want and so what if they're getting it from Robert Downey, Jr. or Keanu Reeves (plank with an angry face on it. Thanks Mr. Subliminal.)

My life is an Unromantic Comedy. Of the 3 jackasses I dated, I have not had one romantic gesture. I mean sure it was nice when Anthony took me out to dinner and a movie on Valentine's Day, but that was counteracted when he actually fell asleep as soon as the previews were over. Also we had plans to go to a fancy-schmancy hotel that night but he cheaped out, as usual.

Next there's the ex-ex Mike. He forgot our 6 month anniversary (it was a big deal then) so the next month he bought me 6 red roses and put them in my locker at school. Sweet right? No. Not after one of his friends busted in my class and said "Marissa you have the sweetest boyfriend in the world! Go to your locker! Go!" She literally scooted me out the door. There goes that romantic gesture. Right down the toidy with the relationship.

Finally, the ex-ex-ex Bill. He just plain didn't know what romance was. Or sex for that matter. ("Um, what just happened?" Bill, with his 14 year old penis in his hand.)

So why can't I watch these movies and cry at the pure sappiness of them? Can't a girl dream? And hey, it's only 2 hours out of my life.

Merry Nothing Nobody

Blah-di da-di da.

All I have to say is: Insomnia sucks. Especially when you're up at night and starving and tired during the day when you are surrounded by pounds and pounds of food. All of which looks good, but you can barely get anything down because you are nausiated. So Merry Nothing Nobody.

Have a lovely 26th of December.

Happy Fucking Holidays, Assholes

People park like assholes. One on one side of the street and right across from it, another. Now I know someone saw the other and yet they still parked there. That blows my mind. It literally blows my mind. I have cartoon smoke blowing out my ears.

I have friends that don't know how to use telephones, friends that talk to my relatives online, friends that think I'm needy and friends that have babies and then drop off the face of the earth. Wanna know the sad part? I bought Christmas presents for all of these people. Now it's my job to track them all down and pretend to be delighted as they open them when in fact, I just want to scream and cry and yell at them for being terrible, awful people!!!!!!!!!!

And do you want to know the worst part?

It's all my fault.

So what if one friend doesn't like calling people and gets upset when no one calls her. I should just call her if I want to talk. Simple enough, right? Sure, why not.

So what if another friend talks to my relatives online. I don't care. I don't like my relatives anway. He might as well get use out of them.

So what if another thinks I'm needy. I'm only needing things that I'm not getting, but I mean, that would  be too much to ask of someone who wouldn't give me what I wanted anyway. So again, it's my fault.

And so what if the last of the bunch had a baby and dropped off the face of the earth. Big deal. She has someone to love her and someone to love, therefore she doesn't need me anymore. But this is the only one that I can forgive. Because, quite frankly, she pushed something the size of a pot roast out of an opening the size of a nostril. So that's fine. She's forgiven.

Merry Fucking Christmas to my little bunch of friends.

Have a nice day and come back again sometime! I'm not always this angry! I promise!

 

The Bird On My Shoulder

A small bird landed on my shoulder the other day. He sang to me softly and rained on my parade. He told me something I did not know and if I did in fact already know it, he brought it to surface and now you can see it in my eyes and in my cheeks; they're pink.

The small bird tried to open my eyes, but now I am in denial. I sit around and try to occupy myself with nonsense (i.e. eating cookies, playing uncontrollable amounts of scrabble, watching Roseanne, calling 867-5309(Jenny) only to find out that the number is busy. Who knew?)

I'm not broken, I still work and am completely functional. I come with batteries and you can exchange me for a new or better one or just get a full refund if you'd so wish. The only flaw is a tiny amount of bird poop on my left shoulder, but thankfully, I am waterproof. And soap wouldn't hurt either.

Have a lovely day and steer clear of little birds who sit on your shoulder and poop.

The Wonder That Is Cory Matthews

     One of my biggest guilty pleasures ever is watching the Disney Channel.
While I was indulging last night (well, this morning at 2 a.m.) I realized what a truly remarkable actor Ben Savage is. You know, Cory Matthews from "Boy Meets World" ? He's a comedic genius! He has all of the humorous qualities down pat. Sarcasm, Volume, Timing, Variety, Facial Expressions, Hand Movements. He's a modern day Charlie Chaplin, sans black and white-fast moving-ripped film reels from the turn of the century.
     And although his Girl Friday, Topanga gets on my nerves more than dogs in ballet costumes, Ben comes along and steals the show with his quick witted comebacks and nappy hair.
As they say, all great things must come to an end and unfortunately, TV shows experience more finality than a funeral home. But all I can say is thank God for syndication and Cory Matthews.

Unexpecting of the Expected

Oh, no. I woke up the other day to something rude. Some may say a "rude awakening" and that's exactly what it was. Well, it wasn't so much rude, just shocking.

I went on a mission to talk to a friend about it and actually to get some lip balm I left in the car. He answered my questions, though not to my liking and I'm crushed. I think.

I thought it was impossible, but now I know why they call them "cliche`s." Shit happens. Love happens.

Hey! Is this where you sign up for the Olympics?

So I skiied. First time ever. Let's just say that Picabo Street better watch her ass. Once the world is introduced to this Ski Diva, before you know it I'll have my own chapstick commercial and good ol' Picabo will be out on the, you guessed it, Street. She should think of changing her name to Picabo Out-of-a-job.

And Then There Was None

Since the breakup 2 and a half months ago, I've had 5, count em 5, potential "suitors:"

First, there was Mike#1. We had a phone relationship for about 3 weeks until one day he just stopped calling altogether. Fine by me, he was boring anyway!

Next, Mike #2. I met him at a play I was at, he workked in the lobby as a waiter. When he asked me if he could get me anything, I replied with a coy, "A date with you would be nice." So we exchanged numbers and he called the next day. (He said he'd call that night but didn't. I took points off.) So when he called, turns out he wanted one thing and one thing only. And it wasn't his two front teeth.

Next we have Sean. Not exactly a "suitor," persay, but more of a...cuddle buddy?

Then we have Bobby, dopey dopey Bobby.

And finally, there's Nick. The guy who serves me coffee weekly. He called me up, asked me to meet him there, so I go and he pretty much wanted his two front teeth too, if you know what I mean. Howabout a free cup of coffee? Howabout no.

And then there was none.

SMS--Save My Sanity

A visit from the ex makes him real again. And his significant other too.

Motherfucker.

Touched by a man who serves me coffee on every Wednesday night. It was strange to hear him say "Are your nipples sensitive?" Rather than, "Cream or sugar?"

A large zit permeates my skin, leaving me with a chin that resembles Jay Leno's and I am hungry.

I wish sleep would visit for a million years to take me away into a dream world filled with nothingness. Anything that is better than this.

Save me.

What Grandpas Are Made Out Of

My grandpa was one of those guys you just had to love. He was the most lovable man in the world. He was kind, gentle and all the other great things grandpas are made out of. Sometimes we would dance in the kitchen, with me on his feet, and he would sing "...and little lambs eat ivy..."

I don't remember a whole lot about him, although we had 12 wonderful years together before his disease stole him away. I do remember, however, his entire wardrobe, which consisted of a magenta-y polo shirt which he would wear with khakis and if it was the winter, he'd wear it with this blue sweater with an alligator on it. My gram says that he didn't like the alligator but thought the sweater was quality so he wore it anyway. He also had an array of ties which, when he died, was distributed to the men of the fam. I was jealous so I asked for one too and I got it for Christmas (and cried and cried and cried.) I still have it and will always keep it. That way I can keep grandpa close to my heart.

He loved golf. And the Simpsons. And the Food Network. When he bought new dishes for his kitchen he had to buy a set that would enhance the beauty of the macaroni. When we would sleep over grandma's when we were younger, we'd eat breakfast with him before he went to work. We'd have toast and hot chocolate, but he wouldn't let us leave until we ate the crust. So we waited until he left the table and gram let us throw it away. Later on we'd go to pick him and practice blowing bubbles with our gum in the car. That's where I learned. We'd also do crossword puzzles and word searches while we waited for him. And sometimes he would snore so loud he'd wake us up at night. So my sister and I would play cards until they got up, then we'd pretend to be asleep.

I didn't know why my grandfather died. No one bothered to tell me, everyone thought I was too young, which I can understand, it's alot for a 12 year old to deal with. I couldn't go to his wake and I'm glad. I would've been traumatized. I would never want to see my dear grandfather in a box in a suit. I want to see him dancing with me in the kitchen and watching the Simpsons and hear him snoring loud. Not laying lifelessly all of a sudden to be buried forever.

Although I'm surrounded by a family that fills my heart with love, I'm still so incredibly lonely for him. It's like an unquenchable thirst.

Death Is In Town

Death didn't always bother me. I suppose it's because I was sheltered from it for far too long. I was 12 years old when my grandpa died. Then death when on a hiatus for a few years. It returned over a year ago and has settled in. Since then he's stolen two of my uncles, a cousin, three friends of the family and one of my peers. I don't know how much more I can take. I feel like I'm running on empty.

For a long time I didn't believe in Heaven or Hell or religion or God. Tonight it hit me. God was created only to serve as a crutch when things get too hard to handle. A time like death or an illness. My animosity toward the spirit of Him is lifted and I feel a little more at ease with the idea of death than I ever did before. Perhaps He isn't so bad. I don't need an entire religion to be devoted to, perhaps just a little faith to get me through. I'm angry that these people have been taken from everyone who has loved them and am not accepting at all at the mere idea of "no longer."

I saw the body, dead and cold, and wondered where me dear uncle was. For as long as I could remember he had rosy cheeks like Santa Claus and now they were pale and matte with heavy makeup. I wondered where did his life go? Where is he now? And I have absolutely no idea. I must admit the idea of him having a huge celebratory dinner in Heaven with my grandpa is comforting, but still an empty thought that just bounces around in my head. I feel I know what it looks like there, with endless white on the walls and a table that goes on for miles (which by the way, is filled with jelly doughnuts - his favorite.)

I didn't cry until my grandma and I began talking about my grandpa. I told her how he (my uncle) didn't even look like himself. And she said, "Sometimes it's better to remember them the way you did when you last saw them living." And although I knew this, I still cried. I said, "The last time I saw grandpa he was eating the lemon pie I had made for him." More tears. "He said it was too tart."

Sometimes life is too tart.

The Queen of Nag Bit the Dust

For a long time I was so positive that things were just going to happen like that *snaps fingers* Meet a guy, date him for 7 years, get engaged, buy a wedding dress, get married, have babies and BOOM! That's life! NOT! I was sooooo wrong.

I thought I was going to marry my first boyfriend. We went out for 1 and 1/2 years, he was my first true love. (ack) We went to church together (I'm the most unholy person ever. I'm like Satan's first wife's sister's best friend.) We held hands everywhere we went. I went to all of his football practices. He was my first, you know, yeah. We filled up almost an entire photo album. He was the closest I ever came to completing one. But alas, all things must end at one point or another. Needless to say, we did not get married. Boy, am I glad. (I nicknamed him the "Chronic Crier")

When we broke up I was devastated. I thought my life was over. I had put so much of myself (including my "flower") into this relationship and he was just going to kick me to the curb like that?! What an asshole! This was my first taste of guys. You know "Scent of a Woman?" This is "Taste of a Guy."

After two more relationships like the one aformentioned, I can honestly say for the first time in my life, that I'm happy to just be alone. I'm happy with myself and my own little web of family and friends, that I don't even miss being the jealous beast that I was. The Queen of Nag bit the dust and I'm glad. I'll never have to see her tear-stained face and angry eyebrows again. Until guy #4 comes along, that is. (Although I must admit, third time's a charm and I think she may really have a mouth full of dust!)

 I'm not awaiting the arrival of my prince charming on a white horse with a glass slipper in his hand (the prince, not the horse.) I'm just waiting for someone to come along that I can fill up a photo album with. To me, that's love.

Tis The Season to be Disgruntled

I'm sitting here in the midst of piles and piles of Christmas presents. I do realize that I will drown in them until that fateful day which could come sooner if it'd like. I've almost had my fill of red and green and "Joy to the World" and of that so-called "Christmas Cheer." You know, that cheer that makes crazy mothers and fathers push and shove you into the giraffe display at Toys R Us, that same "Holiday Cheer" that makes the disgruntled sales clerks grit thier teeth if one more person asks for the "doll that poops all over," or "that video game with you know, that superhero."

And what I'm sick of most isn't the long lines or the hiked up prices or the crying little banshee children, what I'm fed up with is the actual term "Holiday Season." Last time I checked there weren't 5 seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall and Holiday. No. This is not the "Holiday Season." This is pre-winter, this is post-fall, but Holiday? Uh-uh. What makes Christmas more holiday-y than say, Veterans Day? The fourth of July? Because there's a fat man that rides around in the sky in a sleigh with velvety bags filled with gifts for all of those who were good this year? Or because egg nog is in season (the winter season, not the holiday season!)? Or is it just because there's a tree involved? Because you know, anytime there's a tree involved it makes it more of a holiday! NO! NO! NO!

Why the decorations? Why the profuse spending? Why the trees in the house?! TREES BELONG OUTSIDE! DUH!

 

So next time you're being tossed around in the aisles of a toy store, remember that you are only there adding to the madness. And that you should leave, IMMEDIATELY. Drop whatever inane gift you have in your hand for Aunt Polly or your daughter's college roomates boyfriend's parents neighbors and leave. Head out of the store, shield yourself from any flying carts and seek shelter in your car. Then, drive home, open some canned cranberry sauce and wish it was Thanksgiving everyday.

Have a lovely day and watch out for any loose shopping carts falling from the sky.

Inebriation creation

I'm not your typical college student. I'm not interested in partying, belonging to a sorority house or being at risk for menginitis. And up until a few days ago, I didn't drink either. Just the idea of not being able to control your own bodily functions and/or disclosing personal information you otherwise wouldn't share never really appealed to me. Although on more than one occasion I have lost control of my bodily functions, but not as a result of drinking too much. I haven't gotten completely drunk, ever. You know, drunk to the point you can't remember things and to the point you have sex with a couch just to relieve your sexual frustrations. 

At times I've felt that I was missing out on the whole "college experience" by continuing to live at home. At one point my friend and I even contemplated getting a dorm just so we could experience an "Animal House" type thing. We both live literally down the street from our college, so it seemed pointless. We even tried to have our own party at his house. Just the two of us dancing to techno music. Well it was one person dancing at a time because someone had to stand near the light switch and turn it on and off for the strobe light effect. Not too fun. Not too college-like, I suppose.

Anyhow, I haven't learned yet that drinking doesn't make you an adult. But I will inform you as soon as I learn my lesson.

Have a lovely day.

No Guy Is Worth A Pulled Muscle

I went to the fitness center again today. Guess who was there.

Bobby.

Bobby, the boy who makes me come completely undone. (In a good way.)

Anyhow, since I was doing a nautilus workout I thought I'd impress Bobby with how much I could (or could barely) lift.

I was doing fine up until the point I tried to lift what seemed like a million pounds and hurt something in the general area of my, well, entire body I suppose.

So here I am, still achey and dateless. No man is worth a pulled muscle. I'm just sorry I had to learn it the heavy way.

Have a weightless day.

Good to know! (Things you should know before traveling to foreign parts of the US)

Good evening everyone. Nothing interesting to report so here is another list of interesting (i need a thesarus) facts. Enjoy! Most of these will leave you saying "Good to know!"

In New York State, it is illegal to shoot a rabbit from a moving trolley car. *together* "Good to know!"

A local ordinance in Atwoodville, Conneticut prohibits playing Scrabble while waiting for a politician to speak. "Good to know!" Grab the Backgammon!

In some smaller towns in the state of Arizona, it is illegal to wear suspenders. Yup, you guessed it, "Good to know!"

In Michigan, it is illegal to place a skunk in your bosses desk. Rejoice, "Good to know!" And apparently it's not illegal to throw one at him arbitrarily from a trolley car.

In Kentucky, it is illegal to carry ice cream in your back pocket. "Good to know!" 300 points if you can get it in there.

It's illegal in Alabama to wear a fake mustache that causes laughter in church. "Good to know!"

In parts of Alaska, it's illegal to give alcohol to moose. Everyone, "Good to know!" But a little piece of advice for those who are interested (there's that word again) if you truly must give alcohol to a moose, bring him/her into a different part of the state where its not illegal.

In Utah, all birds have the right of way on major highways. "Good to know!" This law was changed after the repeal of the Jim Crow Laws, prior it the law was stated that "All birds are seperate but equal and some may NOT cross the highways."

It's illegal to hunt camels in the state of Arizona. "Good to know!" This law should be modified to state that "It is illegal to hunt camels if you can find one."

There you have it, folks. But before you pack your bags check back here for more information if you plan on traveling around the US for the next batch. Have a lovely day.

 

 

 

Interesting Nothings

The world's largest coffee pot is located in Davidson, Saskatchewan. It measures 24 ft. tall and is made of sheet metal and could hold 150,000 8 oz. cups of coffee. Interesting. Too bad there's a Starbuck's right across the street from it. Apparently business isn't going too well for the quadruple oversized caffeine dispenser.

The Tokyo World Lane Bowling Center is the largest bowling establishment in the world with 252 lanes. Thank God the law of only once child per family was passed, otherwise only one family could go at a time.

The longest game of Monopoly ever played was 1,680 hours long-that's 70 days straight. I bet the car ran out of gas! I bet the horse was exhausted! I bet the ship sank! I bet the iron was cold! I bet the horse got hungry and ate the thimble!

The longest game of monopoly in a bathtub?? 99 hours. I ask myself, "Self, why would someone do that?"

Howard Kinsey and Mrs. R Roark hit the ball back and forth 2001 consecutive times in a game of tennis. I guess the audience members felt stupid buying pounds and pounds of canned food and flashlights for the 2000th when it turned out to be nothing.

On July 31, 1994 Simon Sang Sung of Singapore turned a single piece of dough into 8,192 noodles in 59.29 seconds. I am not amazed by that, but am  ASTOUNDED that SIMON SANG SUNG of SINGAPORE is not a worldwide known tongue twister.

At 12 years old, an African named Ernest Loftus wrote his first journal entry and continued to do so daily for 91 years. Hmm, makes me wonder why we don't see the "The Diary of Ernest Loftus" on Oprah's Blacklist. Oops, I mean Booklist.

In 1968, Steve Mcpeak rode his unicycle from Chicago to LA in six weeks. Interesting. Congratulations Steve McStupid.

In Muddy, Illinois, the post office measures only 7 1/2 ft by 10 1/2 ft, making it the world's smalled post office. Or the world's largest mailbox, depends on how you look at it.

And finally:

The Bible is the most shoplifted book in America. For repenance, most of these thieves do 17,000,000 Hail Mary's and 250,000,000 Our Fathers with a few Act of Contritions thrown in here and there.

It never ends...

So I did it. Call the Guiness Book of World Records. I just did 5, count em 5, essays in 3.5 hours. *She Sighs* What a relief. No longer is that storm cloud hanging over my head. It ceased and made room for the others to rain on my parade.

 

The pap was a snap!

I had my pap smear today. Interesting. As soon as the process got "underway" (no pun intended) the funniest thing happened. The radio was on and guess what song began? "A moment like this" by Kelly Clarkson. That made me giggle. I even redid the lyrics while I was getting prodded.

[American Idol show version]

What if I told you

You have a beautiful crotch

Would you believe me

Would you agree

It's almost that feelin'

That we've (your vagina and I) met before

So tell me that you don't think I'm crazy

And that you love this plastic clamp...

A moment like this

Some people wait a lifetime

For a moment like this

Some people search forever

For that one special exam

Ow, I can't believe it's happening to me

Some people wait a lifetime

For a gynecological exam like this...

Everything changes

But your booty stays the same

Your labia are so tender

I can't explain

Well I maybe dreamin'

But till I awake

Can't we make this pap last forever?

And I'll cherish all the swabs we share...

For a moment like this

Some people wait a lifetime

for an uncomfortable moment like this

Some people search forever

For that one special gynocologist

Ow, I can't believe it's happening to me

Some poeple wait a lifetime

For a pap smear like this...

Could this be the greatest love of all

I wanna know that you will catch me when I fall (out of the stirrups)

So let me tell yout his

Some people wait a lifetime

For the best breast exam ever

Some people spent two lifetimes

For a moment like this

Some people search forever

For that one special pap

Ow, I can't believe this is happening to me

Some people wait a lifetime

For an uncomfortable moment like this...

Owwww, like this...

Owwww, ouch, cuz' everyone is searchin for the most renowned gynocologist...

Some people wait a lifetime

For a pap smear like this...

Owwww, like this.

 

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, Kelly Clarkson's very own "An Uncomfortable Moment Like This" off of her triple platinum album "Papful"

Have a lovely day and tune into tomorrow when we premiere Reuben Studdard's new song, "The Very First Time I Had A Prostate Exam."

She said all the brains I had went to my head...

What have I learned since the beginning of the semester? I learned that you cannot die of a broken heart. Unfortunately, you still breathe. Still wake up, still cry, ache and hurt. You still function. Your heart still beats, your mind still races. Your blood still flows. What I learned wasn't in a textbook nor was it taught. It was learned, however, through experience. Perhaps the only thing they cannot charge you for in college. Hands on, real life experience.

School was my escape. My escape from my pain and my broken heart. Getting up to go to school everyday was my goal and eventually I grew to enjoy my classes, the people, my campus. The thought that this entire campus was for me helped me to overcome my fear of change and to ease the pain in my heart. The idea of college is very promising to me. For once I feel like I'm doing something for me, something thats beneficial, positive and rewarding. At times I feel like I've learned more on the first day of college than I did my whole career as student.

I'm glad me and whats-his-face broke up. Otherwise I wouldn't have enjoyed this experience to the fullest, as I am doing now.  So thank you, whats-his-face, I couldn't have done it without you.

Have a lovely day.

Bitter and Sweet

 Nights that used to be filled with laughter and conversation are slowly turning into silence with cold air blowing through the reciever of the telephone, through the screen window behind the couch we sit on every Wednesday night at our cafe. It seems you've lost interest in me, in us. And while I withold that each time we speak for fear of sounding like a nag, it gapes at me more than you know. It makes me wonder what is happening to this awesome friendship we've had. It worries me that what happened in every single friendship I've had before will happen again, to us. And it wasn't supposed to. I find myself irritable and judgemental, angry and saddened at the mere sight of you. And if I did ever mention anything I would fear all calls would be pity calls, all visits pity visits. There was a time when you were happy to see me, to hear from me. I feel selfish, guilty and alone. (Except for all the annoying people IMing me asking A/S/L) You swear nothing is wrong, so I believe you. And I wonder if its me, then. Maybe it is. Maybe I'm incapable of sustaining a friendship (or a relationship for that matter.) All of the other close friends I've ever had disappeared without a trace. Maybe you will too. And another will probably come along and disappear as well (or get pregnant, get married and not want to hang out with an unmommy loner.) Sometimes I wonder about the times we said we were going to go on a roadtrip or move in together and think "God, we are so Will and Grace," but I know we aren't. We are more like Gin and Tonic. Bitter and Sweet.

I'm going to do some crooning...

I had some contact with the ex. Unfortunately I forgot to erase his name in my online address book before I sent out my Thanksgiving greetings to my online homies. He wrote back, yadda yadda yadda, I hate him. No, that's not animosity you sense in my tone, its revelation. I just never knew that he was jerk. Chances are, he always was one, I'm just now noticing. And we conclude the same chapter we've tried to conclude for 2.2 months now. Hopefully this time it stays concluded.

Thanksgiving is no longer my favorite holiday. Apparently I get nervous around the sight of food and don't eat anything. Either that or maybe it was because my sister in law's mother let one go right next to me, causing my appetite (and my nose) to seek shelter.

I think I'm going through Post Thanksgiving Partum Depression. But I'm not depressed.

Have a lovely day.

Turkey Eve

A whole day of baking pie awaits me.

10 Things That Sound Dirty At Thanksgiving, But Aren't:

10. What a huge breast!

9. It's a little dry, do you still want to eat it?

8. Don't play with your meat!

7. Just spread the legs open and stuff it in!

6. I didn't expect everybody to come at once!

5. You still have a little bit on your chin!

4. How long will it take after you stick it in?

3. You'll know it's ready when it pops up.

2. That's the biggest one I've ever seen!

1. How long do I beat it before it's ready?

 

And some anagrams for Turkey and Dressing:

Redundant Grey Skis

Resident Drunk Gays

Ten Kid Sand Surgery

Kindred Greasy Nuts

Dry as Resident Gunk

Happy Thanksgiving Eve to all!

Have a lovely day.

Slowly I tread on...

Like a turtle in molasses on a hot July day. Happy Anniversary, Marissa. It's officially been 2 months of singledom and I hate it. HATE it. But, I suppose that will only make me stronger. And I'm all for that. Perhaps I WILL get the job I applied for. And maybe I WILL run into a perfectly disabled man. (I applied at a rehabilitation center as a receptionist.)  Oh sorry, not disabled, thats politically incorrect. Differently Abled, as it is now. Right?

Brace yourselves, I am going to talk about Auntie Flo. She's due in at the airport terminal around the first of December, so I'm assuming thats why my mood is a little off. She always makes me miserable when she visits. Especially near the holiday season. Bah, humbug.

My inspiration has abandoned me. I haven't written a truly good poem in weeks. Nor have I been in the mood to work on anything that needs to be done by XMAS! I have a few more gifts to make, then I'll be done. No will to do anything, really. Isn't that awful? Hopefully Auntie Flo didn't forget her suitcase or something. I can't bear waiting for her for a few more weeks. I would like to get the anguish over ASAP.

I need a mood booster. Something to look forward to. Someone to care about. Someone to care about me. Grab the elmer's, I think I need to be patched up again.

Have a lovely day.

My cerebellum is swellin...

Hello, hello. My head is aching. My heart is aching. I didn't pick up that phone *applause* Thank you, Thank you.

In other news, 2 more weeks of the semester and I did bitchingly. Yup, that's right. 4 A's and 1 B. Damn sociology.

Now, over to the freshly stapled meteorologist Al Roker. This just in, Marissa is aggravated with her barren desert of a love life. Plenty of bait, no bites. But some refreshing advice from my fellow journaling Bon Jovi listening buddy, "Why settle for chuck when you deserve a  fillet?" Http://www.journals.aol.com/absinthemnded/AbsninthemndedLogic/   My intial thought was "Who the hell is Chuck?" But after I reread it, I realized. Oh, size DOES matter. The size of the cut, that is :)

Now back to the local news. Mike #1 is MIA, I sent a search party to the sewers but no luck. All they found were 4 turtles eating pizza and playing backgammon with a rat.

And for tonights top story: What do KMART and Micheal Jackson have in common?

They both have boy's pants half off. Thank you and Goodnight.

Oh yeah and have a lovely day.

Someone Cares

HawaiianGrimAce:  u know i could go for a dixie cup of water

My Plagued Thoughts

AnthonyX found his way back to the front of my mind's tangled little web. You know, the part thats connected to my heart, thus causing my mind to race, not even stopping for a breath or a dixie cup of water. Just racin and racin, runnin and runnin, no matter what  I try. I want to call him. I don't know if its out of sheer boredom or wonder or what. I know I'll regret calling him no matter what, unless he says "Let's get back together" but that's a false hope of mine. It'll never happen. If I wasn't good enough to him then, I can't be good enough to him now. I just gave him anything he ever wanted or could possible want (including a $200 XBOX for xmas last year) but that wasn't enough, I suppose. I miss him. Honestly, I miss him. The things we shared together. All the time spent on my couch. On the phone. Driving 200 miles roundtrip to see him when I could and vice versa. He was the man I was going to marry and still the only man I could ever see myself with. I truly believe that I will never find anyone half as good as he was. But I'm talking out of my ass in a moment of weakness. I know I shouldn't call (Its been 2 months since we last talked) I'll only regret it later. And besides, if he wants me, he'll call me, right? Wrong. Like any other man thinks: the phone only works one way. If it's ringing, pick it up. If its your ex girlfriend, slam it down. The way you did her self esteem when you decided spontaneously to break off a 2 year relationship b/c you were sick of the phone. Well you know what? FUCK YOU AND FUCK THE FUCKING PHONE! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO LEFT ME IN THE FIRST PLACE! NO ONE SAID YOU HAD TO MOVE TO ALBANY! It all was fucked up only because of you and your need for a $13/hr job. Well what about my needs? My needs to be loved? I offered to pay you..well here's your raise, asshole *Middle Finger*

*Burps* Mmmm, nothing like a dixie cup of water. Have a lovely day.

Jeffrey Dahmer's Grossery List

No, I didn't spell "grossery" wrong, it was just a little play on words. There's was no alcohol/drugs involved, just two groggy little girls named Marissa and Amee`.

Calf moons

3 spleen asserole

Shredded feet

Penis butter and belly

2 lobes of stye bread

I can't believe it's not vertebrae

Armesean cheese

Potato foreskins

Lice cream

Scalped potatoes

Cuntry Crotch

Red spine vinegar

Stink lemonade (from castrate)

Toothdicks

Mr. Spleen

Chindex

Adams apple juice (from castrate)

Piscuits (from Peppridge Arm)

Lice pilaf

Queef jerky

Mini marshamarrows

Kid knee beans

Mike Tyson's cookbook and biography "Eating Ears for Dummies"

Lingweenie

Pantynose

Cameltoe lights

Cyclopsicles

Tums

The Observer Detach

The Wall Feet Journal

E.L. Fudgepackers

Bugar Wafers

Liquid Plumbilical

Baking choda

G Spot Run (on DVD widescreen)

Osteobiplexus

Sphincturpentine

Mop and Glonads

Turnipples

Eagle Eye frozen testicles

Multi vitachins

Chapdick

Vanilla chafers

Small vitamintestines

Salad undressing (peppercorn stench)

Envelobes

Torso Redandcocker poopcorn

Asseline

Aorta of meat (just one?)

Dial (911) soap

Choc. hip cookies

Sloppy Joes

Leg of Pam

Lucky Charmpits

Pube steak

Aunt Jemimary syurp

Papioca pudding

Crushed ice pubes

Folgerms

Wiggle's fearmint gum

Italian bred crumbilical (1 lobe)

 

Have a lovely day and steer clear of cannibals.

A Love Story Turns Sour

When I first met AnthonyX, I was definitely interested. We worked together and it was my first day on the job. He came over, introduced himself and I caught my first glimpse of heaven. He was gorgeous. Blueish-green eyes, beautiful teeth.(Dentists aren't the only ones who care.) Thus began my love for him.

Everything was perfect. Our first date, kiss...yadda yadda yadda, etc. I met his family, i loved em, they loved me. A few months later he got a job 80 miles away, and he moved away from me. Saddest day of my life. He came home every weekend so we could be together, but it wasn't really the same. We both knew it probably never would be again. A year of this, and its over.

One day, out of the blue, it was over. I was shell-shocked the first 12 hours. Then it sunk in. No more weekends. No more phone calls at 9:00, when it's free. No more of my "Tundy." (His nickname) After the infamous "its not you, its me" garbage, we hung up, for the last time.

**Editors note: For the last time b/c I have this thing we being friends after breaking up. It doesn't work, nor does it make sense. Let me call up my new friend and cry about breaking up. Forget that.

It's now been 3 days shy of 2 months. I haven't spoke to him. I'm completely over the breakup (I think for the most part) but I have to admit I do think about him a few times a day, mainly in the morning. He feels like a stranger. Like I never even knew him. Or was with him. Like that entire part of my life didn't even exist. If that were true, I wouldn't think about him the way I do. Nor would my feelings of anguish/animosity toward him still be relevant.

I'm only worried I will never find a decent guy, like him, again. Nor will I ever find any guy. I know I'm probably just being irrational as usual, but I have to admit, it seems truer and truer everyday.

That's all for now. A little too much Marissa and I get uncomfortable. Have a lovely day.

And oh yes, I saw Bobby today. He was working out. Yeah.

And then I saw your face, now I'm an unbeliever...

I'm not weird, I'm quirky. Anyone who fails to see that is no friend of mine! I'm looking for love but I feel like I will never find it again. And I most certaintly won't find it online. I'm too skeptical. Too suspicious and unbelieving. Why do I waste my time getting to know these guys who I have no interest in? Who have no interest in me? Why is love so important? So necessary in my life? I hate that. It's always been that way, too. I'm a love fiend. It's true. I'm so afraid that I will never find love that even compares to the one that AnthonyX and I shared. I know I will never find anything exactly like that or even close, because each love is unique and all that other bullshit. Yadda Yadda Yadda. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm unbeliever that there actually are good guys out there. Or maybe even one. He's already taken by Jennifer Lopez. Big butted bitch.

Someone who wants to do things for me and actually enjoys it. Someone who wouldn't take me for granted and realizes everything I have to offer, instead of sulking over what I can't give him. I feel only half alive. Ask me tomorrow though, chances are I'll feel somewhat better. That's whats in the forecast anyway.

Mopey over Dopey

A new name for the cast characters:

Bobby-The biggest dope in the world. If he were 5 feet shorter he could've qualified as one of Snow White's little minions. I'm in love with the drunkard that he is. And his sense of humor is right up there with mine! Who else enjoys broccoli dots?

So it'll never happen, I know. Not. I don't know that because I think it's possible, thankyouverymuch. I do know, however, that it probably wouldn't work out anyway. But what the hell? I can still try, right? I'm so supportive of myself. I have to be, no one else is.

I'm having acute writer's block. Well, it's not really cute, AT ALL. My source of inspiration was dry today after drinking all the water in the well. And my leg hurts after working out in high heels. Not a good idea. Also not good ideas:

Tickling your Grandma

Window shopping (no not shopping for windows, either)

Listening to John Tesh. Period. (Mr. Bush, you do NOT have to read the punctuation.)

There you go. So be careful and don't do the aforementioned. EVER.

Have a lovely day.

 

High Heels Make My Day

Hello, hello. Let's see what's happening in Marissa's neck of the woods. Oh, yes. Interesting news for everyone who doesn't care about Mike #1...Mike #1 has a girlfriend and failed to tell me so. I heard from a friend. So guys, do you really think you can get away with it? Take it from the soon to be ball-less Mike #1.

Also another name to strike off the list, KilgoreTrout. The famous fisherman seems to have halted his e-mails to me, begging me to go out with him. Take it from me, if you don't like fish, don't sign up on match.com in a moment of weakness. There's some real whackos out there. And fisho's, too.

Demi Moore celebrated her 40th birthday recently, though apparently she feels like a 25 year old inside.

 

Get it? Have a lovely day.

 

Essays rain on my parade

Write an essay about a selected song/poem and analyze it and tie it into your own experience. Sounds easy, right? Well it's not.

Mike #1 and Mike #2 are out of the picture, I flushed 'em both. Actually Mike #2 wasn't really even in the picture, but it sounded strange having a Mike #1 with no Mike #2 following. But yeah, Mike #1 is flushed and is probably crying in a sewer system somewhere. Boo Frickety Hoo.

In other news, the meteorologist is dressed like a scarecrow and it appears to be cloudy. No wait, that's just his large hand. Well, whatever. Bundle up and get outside!

Anyone interested in writing my essay for me contact me at 911. Ask for Marissa.

If not, you aren't nice. Have a lovely day.

A visit from the minstrel...

An addition to my cast of characters:

Justin aka EmperorKueller aka The Minstrel- My strip hangman buddy. I lost and kept my clothes ON. A fellow Star Wars fan and egg-salad eater.

Cast of Characters

Welcome everyone...to make future entries a little less confusing, here is a cast of characters for the time being:

Anthony- my BFF(and for those who are interested, no, we aren't together and yes, he is GAY)

Amee`- a great little girl who enjoys toasted Doritos as much as I do. Nothin like some Nacho and Butane flavored chips!

AnthonyX -Ex boyfriend of about 2 months now. Unfortunately, his name has a way of popping up from time to time.

Mike Lowwwwerrrrryyy or Mike #1- Current interest. We phone date a few times a week for the last month. He's a security enforcer and I sometimes refer to him as the "human robot," because sadly, he is boring, but hot enough to hold my attention. (I'm very shallow.)

Mike #2- Like most boys, he too will soon be extinct.

KilgoreTrout- 29 year old guy who insists on sending me a daily e-mail asking me for my number. Sometimes the internet sucks. In this case, it sucks fish.

Sean- Just a buddy (or more...?) of mine. He's hot. (I'm paid to say that.)

Fi- My older sister who is shorter than me.

Richie- My older brother who gave me great taste in music.

Kelly- My sister in-law who I enjoy most of the time.

 

I will add more as they come up, so stay tuned.