i could care less about the last 4 years of my life. fuck you, you sucked. you will never be repeated.
4 months until sacramento becomes a memory and i move on to a new city. in this city i will have a new house in which no bad memories will be made, in which the tub holds water and the hot water heater is bigger than only 1 gallon, in which i intend to bake cookies in nothing but heels and an apron every single day.
does everything happen for a reason? no, it just happens. karma doesn't exist, people don't get what they deserve. but that's not really a reason to give up. shit happens. repeatedly. usually to you. and it's not fair. and it sucks. but one day, when that really good thing happens to you, you can flip the entire world off and say "fuck you, i win" and mean it.
fuck you.
i win.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
responsibilities
i'm highly irresponsible.
i ditch class, i lie to work and tell them i can't come in because i don't feel good, i let my dogs lapse on their flea medicine in the wintertime, i skip out on church with my mom.
and i'm still the most responsible person i know.
i'm 24 with a stock portfolio and a roth IRA, a stable/well-paying job that could easily be a career if i chose it to be, headed for grad school, in a relationship, love my parents, drive reasonably and limit my vices.
i always have been responsible, too. for years i had to convince my parents i didn't drink, smoke or do drugs and now it's a struggle to get them to believe that i actually have gotten wasted. my one irresponsible action (in their eyes) was having sex at age 16- which i did with a person i had been dating for 6 months, with protection and while on birth control. i had my first job when i was 16 (jamba juice) and since then i have not lapsed in employment for more than 2 months. i started enrolling in college courses when i was 16 while still in high school, and at age 24 i am 13 units shy of a BS in microbiology, 18 shy of a BA in economics and 12 units shy of a BA in history. i have my minor in criminal justice. i'm still qualified to operate any and all rail equipment/engines. i have 20 hours of flight school under my belt.
sometimes, i really really hate it.
i don't feel like i wasted my youth. i did my share of stupid stuff, i have street smarts and book smarts, i've gotten to travel, i've gotten to tell the world to "fuck off" and taken vacations when i shouldn't have. but sometimes i wonder what it would have been like, or what life would be like if i wasn't motivated and wasn't responsible.
i would probably still be at sac city, convinced that an AA/AS will be my leg up in life or still living under the delusional fantasy that a BA/BS means something. maybe i would be the manager of jamba juice- at the very least, assistant. i wouldn't have to worry about staying out all night because both my classes and employment would require very limited cognitive skills to succeed at. i would live paycheck to paycheck, maybe save a hundred bucks here and there and would blow my tax return in one day. i would settle for the manager- at the very least, assistant manager- of starbucks and together we would have a happy life with our two bedroom apartment (hah! we can afford two bedrooms instead of one, take that!!!). after our wedding at city hall maybe we would convert the second bedroom into a kid's room for our 3 children. it's fine, we can fit bunk beds and a futon in there, right?
... i would have no responsibilities.
OH WAIT. I LIKE HAVING MONEY. I LIKE FINANCIAL SECURITY, I LIKE THE PROSPECT OF BEING ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF NOT ONLY MY SIGNIFICANT OTHER BUT ALSO POSSIBLE CHILDREN DOWN THE ROAD. I WORK HARD SO THAT MY PARENTS WILL BE ABLE TO LIVE COMFORTABLY IN THEIR LATER YEARS. sorry for the caps.
one of my exes called me materialistic because i am so driven by money. and that may be wrong to you. your ideals, your philosophy, your view on money might be different than mine. and maybe it should be. is this mega-capitalistic system i live in the right one? maybe not. is too much emphasis placed on material goods? maybe so. do we live a life of excess compared to the rest of the world? yes.
but unlike those communist hippies who just bitch about the value of a dollar v. the value of life, i've come to accept the fact that i live in a society where $ = power, ability and autonomy. and yes, i want to maximize my marketability (and hence earning potential) by going for my PhD instead of settling for a Bachelor's. it's why i work, hard. i don't want to spend the next 6 years of my life in school, broke, but i'm going to because that's the sacrifice you make. i'm not clever enough to come up with a get-rich-quick scheme, i'm not smart enough to understand the ins and outs of embezzlement or money laundering, i have no cool inventions or even ideas for inventions, and my bi-monthly letters to bill gates begging him for money have done me no good. it's why i don't quit a job when the going gets tough and say "fuck it" (then spend the next 6 months bitching about the economy and how no one is hiring even though i only casually browse craigslist for 10 minutes every week).
i'm doing it for my kids, ie my two dogs whom i insist on feeding high-quality food, maintaining a strict heartworm prevention program, whom i take to the vet for yearly check ups and vaccinations and quarterly teeth brushing/nail clipping/ear cleaning/grooming. incidentals, like endless chew toys and treats, add up.
i'm doing it for my parents because they put a lot of money into me growing up. they raised me so that i never wanted anything but was never spoiled. they worked and lived according to the dollar, and thanks to their financial smarts they retired 10 years earlier than the average american, paid off their house in only 18 years, maintain family agricultural property valued in the millions, pay off their credit cards each month and who live within their means. that description alone makes them seem like they are upper class, but they're not. they live in a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house in a middle class neighborhood. most importantly, they are totally content with their lives and assets.
i'm doing it so that i can take care of jeff. as a couple, i don't want us to ever have to worry about money. will it take us a few years of living a lifestyle we might not be stoked on? probably. will we have to postpone month long overseas trips, buy generic instead of brand name, utilize "buy one get one free" offers? yeah. but i'm okay with that. once we're both done with school then we can focus on all the things that we had to push aside because of money. i want to be able to put him through school, i want to be able to have him look for a job without worrying if we'll be able to pay rent. it's not that he'll ever need that buffer. it's never about needs, it's about having that safety net.
picking up extra shifts instead of going out and partying is worth it.
i don't blame anyone for being shocked when i come to a party, who joke with me about how i need to let loose. i do. but i'd rather be overworked in my youth and have stability in my semi-young-adult life than to have instability in my youth and instability in the future. a lot of people couldn't imagine or want to live like i do- a life that revolves around school, work and a minimal amount of sleep. but i could never imagine or want to live a life that revolves around a minimal amount of school, work and sleep and a maximal amount of fucking off. no thanks, i'll keep being non-profit-working college-going conformist.
just don't ask me for money in 10 years.
i ditch class, i lie to work and tell them i can't come in because i don't feel good, i let my dogs lapse on their flea medicine in the wintertime, i skip out on church with my mom.
and i'm still the most responsible person i know.
i'm 24 with a stock portfolio and a roth IRA, a stable/well-paying job that could easily be a career if i chose it to be, headed for grad school, in a relationship, love my parents, drive reasonably and limit my vices.
i always have been responsible, too. for years i had to convince my parents i didn't drink, smoke or do drugs and now it's a struggle to get them to believe that i actually have gotten wasted. my one irresponsible action (in their eyes) was having sex at age 16- which i did with a person i had been dating for 6 months, with protection and while on birth control. i had my first job when i was 16 (jamba juice) and since then i have not lapsed in employment for more than 2 months. i started enrolling in college courses when i was 16 while still in high school, and at age 24 i am 13 units shy of a BS in microbiology, 18 shy of a BA in economics and 12 units shy of a BA in history. i have my minor in criminal justice. i'm still qualified to operate any and all rail equipment/engines. i have 20 hours of flight school under my belt.
sometimes, i really really hate it.
i don't feel like i wasted my youth. i did my share of stupid stuff, i have street smarts and book smarts, i've gotten to travel, i've gotten to tell the world to "fuck off" and taken vacations when i shouldn't have. but sometimes i wonder what it would have been like, or what life would be like if i wasn't motivated and wasn't responsible.
i would probably still be at sac city, convinced that an AA/AS will be my leg up in life or still living under the delusional fantasy that a BA/BS means something. maybe i would be the manager of jamba juice- at the very least, assistant. i wouldn't have to worry about staying out all night because both my classes and employment would require very limited cognitive skills to succeed at. i would live paycheck to paycheck, maybe save a hundred bucks here and there and would blow my tax return in one day. i would settle for the manager- at the very least, assistant manager- of starbucks and together we would have a happy life with our two bedroom apartment (hah! we can afford two bedrooms instead of one, take that!!!). after our wedding at city hall maybe we would convert the second bedroom into a kid's room for our 3 children. it's fine, we can fit bunk beds and a futon in there, right?
... i would have no responsibilities.
OH WAIT. I LIKE HAVING MONEY. I LIKE FINANCIAL SECURITY, I LIKE THE PROSPECT OF BEING ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF NOT ONLY MY SIGNIFICANT OTHER BUT ALSO POSSIBLE CHILDREN DOWN THE ROAD. I WORK HARD SO THAT MY PARENTS WILL BE ABLE TO LIVE COMFORTABLY IN THEIR LATER YEARS. sorry for the caps.
one of my exes called me materialistic because i am so driven by money. and that may be wrong to you. your ideals, your philosophy, your view on money might be different than mine. and maybe it should be. is this mega-capitalistic system i live in the right one? maybe not. is too much emphasis placed on material goods? maybe so. do we live a life of excess compared to the rest of the world? yes.
but unlike those communist hippies who just bitch about the value of a dollar v. the value of life, i've come to accept the fact that i live in a society where $ = power, ability and autonomy. and yes, i want to maximize my marketability (and hence earning potential) by going for my PhD instead of settling for a Bachelor's. it's why i work, hard. i don't want to spend the next 6 years of my life in school, broke, but i'm going to because that's the sacrifice you make. i'm not clever enough to come up with a get-rich-quick scheme, i'm not smart enough to understand the ins and outs of embezzlement or money laundering, i have no cool inventions or even ideas for inventions, and my bi-monthly letters to bill gates begging him for money have done me no good. it's why i don't quit a job when the going gets tough and say "fuck it" (then spend the next 6 months bitching about the economy and how no one is hiring even though i only casually browse craigslist for 10 minutes every week).
i'm doing it for my kids, ie my two dogs whom i insist on feeding high-quality food, maintaining a strict heartworm prevention program, whom i take to the vet for yearly check ups and vaccinations and quarterly teeth brushing/nail clipping/ear cleaning/grooming. incidentals, like endless chew toys and treats, add up.
i'm doing it for my parents because they put a lot of money into me growing up. they raised me so that i never wanted anything but was never spoiled. they worked and lived according to the dollar, and thanks to their financial smarts they retired 10 years earlier than the average american, paid off their house in only 18 years, maintain family agricultural property valued in the millions, pay off their credit cards each month and who live within their means. that description alone makes them seem like they are upper class, but they're not. they live in a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house in a middle class neighborhood. most importantly, they are totally content with their lives and assets.
i'm doing it so that i can take care of jeff. as a couple, i don't want us to ever have to worry about money. will it take us a few years of living a lifestyle we might not be stoked on? probably. will we have to postpone month long overseas trips, buy generic instead of brand name, utilize "buy one get one free" offers? yeah. but i'm okay with that. once we're both done with school then we can focus on all the things that we had to push aside because of money. i want to be able to put him through school, i want to be able to have him look for a job without worrying if we'll be able to pay rent. it's not that he'll ever need that buffer. it's never about needs, it's about having that safety net.
picking up extra shifts instead of going out and partying is worth it.
i don't blame anyone for being shocked when i come to a party, who joke with me about how i need to let loose. i do. but i'd rather be overworked in my youth and have stability in my semi-young-adult life than to have instability in my youth and instability in the future. a lot of people couldn't imagine or want to live like i do- a life that revolves around school, work and a minimal amount of sleep. but i could never imagine or want to live a life that revolves around a minimal amount of school, work and sleep and a maximal amount of fucking off. no thanks, i'll keep being non-profit-working college-going conformist.
just don't ask me for money in 10 years.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
i'm killing myself
my pulmonologist told me today to stop smoking.
the funny thing is, i don't smoke.
he doesn't like how my lungs look, and i had to fight the urge to fire back "well i don't like how you look." i may have honed my internal social controls to prevent me from acting upon them but it doesn't mean i'm not thinking it.
i'm a 14 year old boy trapped inside a 24 year old girl's body. i think about sex 800 times a minute, i eat whatever i want, wish i was skinnier but refuse to do anything about it because food rules and diets drool. for the most part i think girls are icky, i don't shower every day, i would rather blow shit up than scrapbook, i like my music loud, my life fast. what did famous say? live fast die fun? only my definition of living fast is working a 13 hour case instead of studying for a test, driving to reno in a snowstorm instead of staying home to celebrate easter, owning an australian cattle dog in a city.
working with dead people for a living doesn't make you appreciate life like you think it might. working with dead people makes you despise anyone who weighs more than 200lbs, anyone who lacks personal hygiene, anyone who decides to kick the bucket on your day off.
death happens. and it's not beautiful, it's not dignified, it's not horrible, it's not scary. i've never seen a dead person with a look of peace on their face just like i've never seen a dead person with an expression of complete terror.
and as much as you love your god, your belief system, your karma, your philosophy, what i can tell you for sure is this:
when you die, you look like everyone else. you are put into a unionall (body bag), you are put in the morgue, you await transportation to a funeral home. sometimes you have a toe tag, sometimes it's attached to your finger, sometimes it's attached to the zipper on the bag. you ARE NOT laying in a bed a roses, signifying your status as a god-fearing do-gooder. you ARE NOT engulfed in flames, showing the world that you were a huge piece of shit. a rapist and mother teresa look the same when they're dead. the sooner you realize that you're the same as everyone else in death, the sooner you'll realize that you're the same as everyone else in life. we're all here for a reason- because an egg and sperm had a party, and for no other reason. sometimes the sperm partied hard so there's two of you, maybe even three or four or eight.
my philosophy: we all started out partying, so we should all die partying- whatever your definition of partying may be.
the funny thing is, i don't smoke.
he doesn't like how my lungs look, and i had to fight the urge to fire back "well i don't like how you look." i may have honed my internal social controls to prevent me from acting upon them but it doesn't mean i'm not thinking it.
i'm a 14 year old boy trapped inside a 24 year old girl's body. i think about sex 800 times a minute, i eat whatever i want, wish i was skinnier but refuse to do anything about it because food rules and diets drool. for the most part i think girls are icky, i don't shower every day, i would rather blow shit up than scrapbook, i like my music loud, my life fast. what did famous say? live fast die fun? only my definition of living fast is working a 13 hour case instead of studying for a test, driving to reno in a snowstorm instead of staying home to celebrate easter, owning an australian cattle dog in a city.
working with dead people for a living doesn't make you appreciate life like you think it might. working with dead people makes you despise anyone who weighs more than 200lbs, anyone who lacks personal hygiene, anyone who decides to kick the bucket on your day off.
death happens. and it's not beautiful, it's not dignified, it's not horrible, it's not scary. i've never seen a dead person with a look of peace on their face just like i've never seen a dead person with an expression of complete terror.
and as much as you love your god, your belief system, your karma, your philosophy, what i can tell you for sure is this:
when you die, you look like everyone else. you are put into a unionall (body bag), you are put in the morgue, you await transportation to a funeral home. sometimes you have a toe tag, sometimes it's attached to your finger, sometimes it's attached to the zipper on the bag. you ARE NOT laying in a bed a roses, signifying your status as a god-fearing do-gooder. you ARE NOT engulfed in flames, showing the world that you were a huge piece of shit. a rapist and mother teresa look the same when they're dead. the sooner you realize that you're the same as everyone else in death, the sooner you'll realize that you're the same as everyone else in life. we're all here for a reason- because an egg and sperm had a party, and for no other reason. sometimes the sperm partied hard so there's two of you, maybe even three or four or eight.
my philosophy: we all started out partying, so we should all die partying- whatever your definition of partying may be.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
this is the truth
i bummed my boyfriend out today.
i was joking about how he would play a show, find another girl and leave me. i joke like that a lot, but this time it came out of my mouth like a well orchestrated plan with diagrams and steps and shit. every other time he shakes his finger at me and tells me to shut up, but this time there was no finger wagging, just bummage.
i reassured him i was kidding, that i'm a pretty okay girlfriend, that i get shit right 95% of the time. but with the frequency i joke about it, am i really actually joking?
i always say i never let past relationships influence present ones. and for the most part i really believe i don't. by all means i should be living in a cave or be a lesbian, but caves are hard for the pizza delivery guy to find and girls are batshit crazy.
i had to sit there for a second to realize that past relationships do carry over.
i'll be the first to admit that i'm insecure and that i don't believe in something that's too good to be true. something that's too easy. something that makes me too happy. (the exceptions are chocolate chip cookies and mountain dew code red). i don't believe in coincidences, i don't believe in god, i don't believe in asking questions that you don't already know the answers to. i do believe, however, that i'm pretty fucking scared.
it's not for me to spill the details of past relationships. all i can say is that there's been some way shitty ones. some of it i deserved, a lot of it i didn't. i have some of the world's best exes. mike is my go-to guy for a place to sleep when i'm in southern california, the guy i can always count on to ask me to do shrooms. matt is a good dude, backed hard. he broke the cycle of dumping me for an ex, his little brother is ADORABLE and he's got his head on his shoulders. in all honesty, i couldn't ask for better exes.
then there are the shitty ones. we all have them, i'm no exception. i don't quite hate them, but i'm not so sure i would give them the time of day if they asked.
the shitty ones are the ones that give me problems. rather, they don't give me problems, i give myself problems. this is in no way an attempt to blame anyone, not even myself. life is a set of conditions, circumstances and situations, nothing more. how you choose to cognitively interpret your conditions, circumstances and situations defines your behavior (and therefore who you are).
apparently, who i am is a scared little girl who's been handed something amazing and is expecting the worst. it's hard to admit and i didn't figure it out until, like, 3 hours ago.
there are a lot of reasons why i won't go into counseling with my psych degree. one reason is that i don't feel comfortable being paid hundreds of dollars an hour to pretend like i'm someone's best friend. one reason is that i'm a bitch and don't really care about a complete strangers' problems. but the main reason is that i think going to counseling is a shortcut to becoming a better person, a shortcut that could be avoided if you took some time to yourself and admitted everything that you were scared to admit. (NOTE: this is not about people who have severe psychological disturbances of any kind. this is a personal thing. counseling does SO many people SO much good. it exists for a reason and should never be discounted as a viable option for enhancing your life).
i should preface this by saying: it sucks. it sucks to admit to yourself that you suck at certain things. it's not comfortable, there are no quick fixes, it's not easy, it doesn't make you feel good, there's no sense of pride or personal accomplishment that comes along with it, not until much later.
BUT.
it's necessary. and it's part of being a strong person. to be able to identify your faults and weaknesses, that's where it's at. i'm pretty narcissistic, so i think i'm awesome. but i can admit that i'm only awesome part-time. i want to be awesome full-time with benefits, vacation pay and stock options. unfortunately, like social security, the chances of me cashing in on that are slim and nil.
i'm insecure about being happy. i enjoy it to the fullest, but in the back of my mind i'm always suspicious. whether i'm experiencing true happiness because of this negativity or not is a whole different philosophical debate, and i don't care for philosophy.
i don't ask for help when i need it.
i alternate jealousy with not giving a fuck so that no guy can ever figure out what the fuck my opinions on women are.
i expect to be cheated on or left for an ex.
and wow, this sucks. and this means i need to work on shit, fast. because it doesn't only make me feel like shit, it makes my boyfriend feel like shit too.
the bright light at the end of the tunnel is the realization i had a few years ago: your past makes you who you are. every shitty relationship, every good relationship has made me the girlfriend i am. for better or worse, i have my exes to thank. i used to hate when my boyfriends talked to their exes because of past experiences of being dumped for them. one day i had to tell myself "fuck you, you're sucking right now." instead of getting jealous i realized i should probably be thanking their exes for making them the person they are. again, it's fucking hard to do. and it sucks. and it's uncomfortable. but loving someone unconditionally means loving their past, no matter what it may be.
one day i'll be a better girlfriend. i'm sure of it. for right now i can rejoice in the fact that i make a bomb ass lasagna, that i've got an amazing life and that i can give good head.
the great michael jordan once said: " i've missed 9 thousand shots, lost 300 games, took 26 buzzer beaters & missed... but i kept going! that's why i succeeded." while i wish i was getting paid m. jordan's salary to figure myself out, he's right. maybe i'll miss 9 thousand shots, maybe i'll lose 300 games. but i have an awesome family, i have an awesome boyfriend, i have awesome friends, i have an awesome future ahead of me. and that definitely does NOT suck. if success means taking a hit, i'll hit that.
i was joking about how he would play a show, find another girl and leave me. i joke like that a lot, but this time it came out of my mouth like a well orchestrated plan with diagrams and steps and shit. every other time he shakes his finger at me and tells me to shut up, but this time there was no finger wagging, just bummage.
i reassured him i was kidding, that i'm a pretty okay girlfriend, that i get shit right 95% of the time. but with the frequency i joke about it, am i really actually joking?
i always say i never let past relationships influence present ones. and for the most part i really believe i don't. by all means i should be living in a cave or be a lesbian, but caves are hard for the pizza delivery guy to find and girls are batshit crazy.
i had to sit there for a second to realize that past relationships do carry over.
i'll be the first to admit that i'm insecure and that i don't believe in something that's too good to be true. something that's too easy. something that makes me too happy. (the exceptions are chocolate chip cookies and mountain dew code red). i don't believe in coincidences, i don't believe in god, i don't believe in asking questions that you don't already know the answers to. i do believe, however, that i'm pretty fucking scared.
it's not for me to spill the details of past relationships. all i can say is that there's been some way shitty ones. some of it i deserved, a lot of it i didn't. i have some of the world's best exes. mike is my go-to guy for a place to sleep when i'm in southern california, the guy i can always count on to ask me to do shrooms. matt is a good dude, backed hard. he broke the cycle of dumping me for an ex, his little brother is ADORABLE and he's got his head on his shoulders. in all honesty, i couldn't ask for better exes.
then there are the shitty ones. we all have them, i'm no exception. i don't quite hate them, but i'm not so sure i would give them the time of day if they asked.
the shitty ones are the ones that give me problems. rather, they don't give me problems, i give myself problems. this is in no way an attempt to blame anyone, not even myself. life is a set of conditions, circumstances and situations, nothing more. how you choose to cognitively interpret your conditions, circumstances and situations defines your behavior (and therefore who you are).
apparently, who i am is a scared little girl who's been handed something amazing and is expecting the worst. it's hard to admit and i didn't figure it out until, like, 3 hours ago.
there are a lot of reasons why i won't go into counseling with my psych degree. one reason is that i don't feel comfortable being paid hundreds of dollars an hour to pretend like i'm someone's best friend. one reason is that i'm a bitch and don't really care about a complete strangers' problems. but the main reason is that i think going to counseling is a shortcut to becoming a better person, a shortcut that could be avoided if you took some time to yourself and admitted everything that you were scared to admit. (NOTE: this is not about people who have severe psychological disturbances of any kind. this is a personal thing. counseling does SO many people SO much good. it exists for a reason and should never be discounted as a viable option for enhancing your life).
i should preface this by saying: it sucks. it sucks to admit to yourself that you suck at certain things. it's not comfortable, there are no quick fixes, it's not easy, it doesn't make you feel good, there's no sense of pride or personal accomplishment that comes along with it, not until much later.
BUT.
it's necessary. and it's part of being a strong person. to be able to identify your faults and weaknesses, that's where it's at. i'm pretty narcissistic, so i think i'm awesome. but i can admit that i'm only awesome part-time. i want to be awesome full-time with benefits, vacation pay and stock options. unfortunately, like social security, the chances of me cashing in on that are slim and nil.
i'm insecure about being happy. i enjoy it to the fullest, but in the back of my mind i'm always suspicious. whether i'm experiencing true happiness because of this negativity or not is a whole different philosophical debate, and i don't care for philosophy.
i don't ask for help when i need it.
i alternate jealousy with not giving a fuck so that no guy can ever figure out what the fuck my opinions on women are.
i expect to be cheated on or left for an ex.
and wow, this sucks. and this means i need to work on shit, fast. because it doesn't only make me feel like shit, it makes my boyfriend feel like shit too.
the bright light at the end of the tunnel is the realization i had a few years ago: your past makes you who you are. every shitty relationship, every good relationship has made me the girlfriend i am. for better or worse, i have my exes to thank. i used to hate when my boyfriends talked to their exes because of past experiences of being dumped for them. one day i had to tell myself "fuck you, you're sucking right now." instead of getting jealous i realized i should probably be thanking their exes for making them the person they are. again, it's fucking hard to do. and it sucks. and it's uncomfortable. but loving someone unconditionally means loving their past, no matter what it may be.
one day i'll be a better girlfriend. i'm sure of it. for right now i can rejoice in the fact that i make a bomb ass lasagna, that i've got an amazing life and that i can give good head.
the great michael jordan once said: " i've missed 9 thousand shots, lost 300 games, took 26 buzzer beaters & missed... but i kept going! that's why i succeeded." while i wish i was getting paid m. jordan's salary to figure myself out, he's right. maybe i'll miss 9 thousand shots, maybe i'll lose 300 games. but i have an awesome family, i have an awesome boyfriend, i have awesome friends, i have an awesome future ahead of me. and that definitely does NOT suck. if success means taking a hit, i'll hit that.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
thing that make me cum
1. jeff
2. timbaland's new song "carry out" ft. justin timberlake.
OVERALL: the song is just straight sex. it automatically makes you think about getting/giving head in an elevator only moments before busting into your hotel room and being bent over the bathroom sink. case in point: the lyric "you look good, you must taste heavenly."
THE VIDEO: this video reaffirms why women are the straight SHIT. the girls in the video are all smoking hot and dressed up as pin-up carhops, costumed french maids, and girls in lingerie eating cupcakes. neon lights + dimmed background= mmmm. don't get me wrong- a room full of hot guys in waiter's outfits would be fine by me, but these girls are bangin. yeah fellas, you wish you were us, and yes, we do grope our own tits. they really are that awesome.
TIMBALAND: Timbaland is a man whom, I feel, doesn't receive enough credit for his contributions to music. Timbaland has been around for two decades as a producer, most notably for Aaliyah, Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado. As a producer he has never had a major album produced by him not shoot to multiple Top 10 statuses. His production guaranteed Timberlake's solo stardom and infused the club scene/top 40 with Nelly Furtado, who previously had a flowy, folksy style. After years of producing Timbaland finally recorded his own CD borrowing friends such as Furtado and Timberlake for talent and also exposing the world to Keri Hilson. The CD was a hit and is easily one of the most amazing albums put out in the past 5 years.
JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE: anything that can said about this man most likely has something to do with "sex." he's one of those guys that i'm pretty sure has mind control powers he uses to entrance you and make you wet at any time he pleases. it's not his looks. i'm not a fan of blondies, but even i can admit that he looks 180 degrees of hot from what he looked like in the n'sync days. it's not the looks, but rather the flawless transformation of pubic opinion towards him while still being regarded positively. not only positively, but as one of the innovators of pop music in the last decade. he seamlessly went from a teenage boy band pop star dating queen of pop britney spears, to a sophisticated, talented and devilshly sexy man who dates some of the classiest women in hollywood. why is timberlake the shit? because of orgasm-inducing lyrics such as "now is it full of myself to want you full of me?" and "do you like it well done, cause i do it well. cause i'm well-seasoned if you couldn't tell."
and now you know what makes me cum as of 3/30/2010.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRdHsuuXxfk
2. timbaland's new song "carry out" ft. justin timberlake.
OVERALL: the song is just straight sex. it automatically makes you think about getting/giving head in an elevator only moments before busting into your hotel room and being bent over the bathroom sink. case in point: the lyric "you look good, you must taste heavenly."
THE VIDEO: this video reaffirms why women are the straight SHIT. the girls in the video are all smoking hot and dressed up as pin-up carhops, costumed french maids, and girls in lingerie eating cupcakes. neon lights + dimmed background= mmmm. don't get me wrong- a room full of hot guys in waiter's outfits would be fine by me, but these girls are bangin. yeah fellas, you wish you were us, and yes, we do grope our own tits. they really are that awesome.
TIMBALAND: Timbaland is a man whom, I feel, doesn't receive enough credit for his contributions to music. Timbaland has been around for two decades as a producer, most notably for Aaliyah, Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado. As a producer he has never had a major album produced by him not shoot to multiple Top 10 statuses. His production guaranteed Timberlake's solo stardom and infused the club scene/top 40 with Nelly Furtado, who previously had a flowy, folksy style. After years of producing Timbaland finally recorded his own CD borrowing friends such as Furtado and Timberlake for talent and also exposing the world to Keri Hilson. The CD was a hit and is easily one of the most amazing albums put out in the past 5 years.
JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE: anything that can said about this man most likely has something to do with "sex." he's one of those guys that i'm pretty sure has mind control powers he uses to entrance you and make you wet at any time he pleases. it's not his looks. i'm not a fan of blondies, but even i can admit that he looks 180 degrees of hot from what he looked like in the n'sync days. it's not the looks, but rather the flawless transformation of pubic opinion towards him while still being regarded positively. not only positively, but as one of the innovators of pop music in the last decade. he seamlessly went from a teenage boy band pop star dating queen of pop britney spears, to a sophisticated, talented and devilshly sexy man who dates some of the classiest women in hollywood. why is timberlake the shit? because of orgasm-inducing lyrics such as "now is it full of myself to want you full of me?" and "do you like it well done, cause i do it well. cause i'm well-seasoned if you couldn't tell."
and now you know what makes me cum as of 3/30/2010.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRdHsuuXxfk
Thursday, March 25, 2010
you were totally NOT worth it.
one year later and i still have a broke-ass hand due to a horrendous air hockey accident.
it was totally NOT worth it.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
larry the creeper
hooray for my first official follower, my creepy friend larry lo!
creepy runs in larry's family- his father is a gynecologist.
larry first creeped on me when i was in the hospital the first time i found out i had pulmonary emobli, august 27-september 3, 2008. i thought larry was in high school and doing volunteer work, like i had to do when i went to mc clatchy. turns out he was in college, went to my college, and lived 4 doors down from my parents. he brought me extra caffeine free pepsi and saltines, which were pretty much the only things i ate while in the hospital. he promised to take me to red robin
(yum) but has yet to deliver, he's a chelsea fan (FUCK YAH BRAH), a nursing major and is adorable.
larry lo, here's to you! la chaim!
creepy runs in larry's family- his father is a gynecologist.
larry first creeped on me when i was in the hospital the first time i found out i had pulmonary emobli, august 27-september 3, 2008. i thought larry was in high school and doing volunteer work, like i had to do when i went to mc clatchy. turns out he was in college, went to my college, and lived 4 doors down from my parents. he brought me extra caffeine free pepsi and saltines, which were pretty much the only things i ate while in the hospital. he promised to take me to red robin
(yum) but has yet to deliver, he's a chelsea fan (FUCK YAH BRAH), a nursing major and is adorable.
larry lo, here's to you! la chaim!
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