I must say, in order to keep you all entertained, and under my thumb, I must start posting more often. I've been yelled at by a few these days "SARA WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO POST AGAIN!?" "YOU'RE WRITING CRACKS ME UP!?" Well...how about now? This work good for you?
I intentionally leave y'all hanging...like a whore waiting for her next John to leave her 2 twenty dollar bills after he's had his fun. Oh...wait....did I just say whore? Oops, I meant me... But that a WHOLE different story for an entirely different day.
Scandals are scandals until the next huge dramatic event comes along. Tis the final day of this not so exciting year, and where am I? Home. Cooped up in my 800 and something square foot apartment, dreading the rest of the night ahead of me. I woke up at 0600. Practically on the dot, and well...I go to work in about 3 hours, so the realization of not getting my midnight kiss is slightly daunting. I know we all have those crazy fantasies about meeting some Prince Charming who will rescue you at exactly midnight. Spots you from across the room, realizes you don't have anyone on your arm and debonairly strides across the room, takes your face in their hands and plants the most passionate kiss on your lips. Let's face it. This is reality people. Shit like that doesn't happen to us normal woman.
This is the reality of a night out -
You're out at a bar (let's just 'randomly' use New Years Eve as an occasion...because you have to have an occasion to be out right...*cough*), midnight is approaching soon. We all know it's coming. We scan the room, casually...think ok, I've got a few hours to 1. Get drunk. 2. Find a cute guy and make some kind of good impression and 3. Look super hot doing it. So the hunt is on. Starts off with a a drink and your 2 best friends, whom most likely already have a husband, or date, so you're on your own in the looking department. You attempt to get one of them out on the dance floor - cause shaking your ass ALWAYS works when it comes down to attracting the opposite sex. No takers on the dancing. Then out of the blue (and it NEVER fails), one of your friends gets in a fight with their date. Some other chick looked at him from across the room, or some dude attempted to buy her a drink, whatever the case my be, we know it happens. World War III breaks out. She's cussing at him "You effing bastard, I can't believe you'd try and fuck that"...he's screaming back at her "You're just a jealous broad, get over it! It was nothing..." (now that I'm typing this all out I"m realizing this happens on more than one occasion...am I the only one disturbed by this?)... You have to remove both of them from their corners, take a while to calm them both down. Throw some cold water on the two drunken messes. Then, by the time you realize it, it's almost midnight. That's when the panic starts to set in. You still didn't have time to strut yourself enough to find a cutie to suck face with when that clock strikes Midnight. Your eyes dart around the room...too skinny...too creepy...too old...too fat...too all wrong....then you spot him. Attempt to make your way over, get lost in the crowd, turn and he's either gone, or that's when his girlfriend walks up. Strike one. You look around again. Bartender is kinda cute, but working....you notice an okay fellow, then attempt to play the "he could work" game, in your mind. Before you finally talk yourself into it, he's already talking to another girl. Strike 2. So you decide to just give up. Walk back over to your group. Complain about not having someone, so you resolve to just give up the opposite sex as your New Years resolution. What do we need them for. They're just drama...blah blah blah....drunken arguing going on inside your own head. Then your girl friend says "Don't worry, babe, at midnight you've got me!" Then...because you're intoxicated, you actually start to contemplate this idea...THIS COULD WORK! All I want is a New Years kiss. Doesn't matter who with...besides, she's a good friend...what could it hurt. So you check her out a little. Oooo...soft lips, that'll do, she's got a great smile, she is looking pretty hot in that dress...I could do this. This is really gonna happen. You're boostin' your own ego....
The count down begins
10....9....I'm gonna do this!...8....7....wow, she's actually kinda cute!...6...5...4...fuck yes! i'm gonna do this!...3...2............she turns to you, smiles, you think she's gonna go for it...and then she turns her head WAIT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!? I THOUGHT WE WERE DOING THIS!?.....1......HAPPY NEW YEAR! She goes in for the kiss for her man. In fact, the ENTIRE place is kissing someone. Except you. Ahhh crap. Feels almost awkward that you're standing there alone. You're waiting for everyone to finish. The elephant getting extremely massive in the room. Silence. You standing there...alone. She finishes, turns and gives you a hug to make you not feel left out. You put on your fake happy, smiley face, kicking yourself in your own head because you really had yourself convinced this was going to be a new thing for a new year. You had yourself pretty much set on this lesbian experience to ring in the new year. That's when you realize...you're just drunk stupid! HELLO!?
Midnight is over, go home, kick your heels off, grab a turkey sandwich and plop your ass in front of the couch to watch the footage of everyone else's miraculous time. Whoop-tie doo...a new year. It'll be the same as last year. Can't wait!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Schizophrenia, approaching fast....
I can't sleep. I haven't slept in days. I'm saying insomnia. Does that make me a hypochondriac? Is this head cold really a cold? Or is it some plague that is bound to kill me. Drop me, dead as a corpse like back in the early 1900's, when there weren't many antibiotics to go around, and crazy illnesses, like the Spanish Influenza or something? It's just me being over dramatic. Story of my life, right?
Back to the not sleeping thing. Every time I lay down to rest my eyes, one of my crazy neighbors is making an extreme racket, making it impossible to even concentrate on not concentrating on anything, to clear my mind and drift off into something other describe, or ridiculously call dreamland. I've taken it into account that I'm a day sleeper. That's why, from now on, on my nights off, I will blast my music, while singing at the top of my lungs, watch movies with the volume on 50+, have extremely loud and obnoxiously personal telephone conversations right next to the paper thin wall in the bedroom, and have extremely wild, animal noise sex. Just for revenge. I believe they do all of these things just to rub it in my face...that I'm here alone. They all know it. They all give me that "poor girl" look every time I pass them while walking to my car, or to take the trash out.
A neighbor stopped me the other day on my way out to the dumpster. "Girls don't take out trash." Thanks. Are you saying because I have short hair I should just automatically change my name to Shane or Shawn and start taking hormone supplements, only to one day have my necessary sex change, so my brothers and sisters can start calling me their bro-ster? I just laughed. My head was filled with ass-hole comments, none of them appropriate to really say to a neighbor, whom I have only said a quick hello to in passing. I bet he doesn't even take out his own trash, leaves it for his woman to handle, or if he does, I bet she has to bag it and put it by the door so he'll even remember. In response to my tense laughter he replies "Well, maybe you need to find you one of those then." Then gave me the "poor girl" look again. I bet I'm the talk of the building. The weird, tattooed, stays up all night - so she can sleep all day, quiet as a mouse, takes the only available open parking spot because her parking stall is a thousand miles from her front door, alone, crazy cat lady who takes out her own trash...heaven forbid. Not that I have cats or anything, but I'm sure they think I do.
My neighbors directly across from my front door own 2 cats that look EXACTLY alike. Their living room window faces my door, so whenever I leave my apartment, for any reason, there they area, the 2 over confident felines. Perched and waiting to pounce, which, I'm sure they would do, except there's a few panes of glass between them and I, other wise I'd be yesterdays tuna to them. They sit there, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, almost like statues. If their eyes didn't follow me and I walked down the side walk, I'd believe them to be actual statues. I think they're in on the scam, and also plotting my demise. Their big beady eyes, sharp claws, scratchy tongues, and alter egos. One of these days I'm going to wind up missing. When I do...point fingers in that direction. Ask questions later. Euthanasia. Hey, it happens. Don't be scared to talk about it. Circle of life bullshit.
Above me, the "woman" of the household, which I have never seen - only heard, prefers to do everything in heels. Vacuuming, yoga, dishes, pick her noise, cleaning the toilet, P90-X, laundry....you name it. No need to call her and ask you what she's doing, just come hang out with me for 5 minutes, I'm sure we can figure it out, or at least make up some good stories! Neighbor across the kitchen wall, let's just say he's the meanest gay man I've even met. Nuff said...with his white BMW. He needs to go back to drivers education and re-learn how to park...I'm just saying. The man on the other side of the bedroom wall...I have only seen once. I'm not sure what he does, or where he goes, but he's gone A LOT! I say he's a secret agent, and a contracted killer. He seems the type. Good man by day, killing off the scum bags of society by night. Knows how to cut you a thousand ways before you even know you've bled to death. Super secretive agent man. He probably does that whole "push a button on the toaster" thing in the the morning while drinking his coffee, and ten different assault weapons pop out. He chooses the paper clip to suffocate you with, because it's his specialty and he's just THAT good. I saw him look at me like he was picturing all the ways he could off me. I'm not crazy.
Ok, maybe a little crazy...next thing you know I'm going to be talking about the one time that I was abducted by aliens and got anal probed. And the true story about the cold war, the real Bermuda Triangle, what actually does happen at Area 51 and my outlook on why tin foil hats are the only way to keep the government out of our private thoughts....
Back to the not sleeping thing. Every time I lay down to rest my eyes, one of my crazy neighbors is making an extreme racket, making it impossible to even concentrate on not concentrating on anything, to clear my mind and drift off into something other describe, or ridiculously call dreamland. I've taken it into account that I'm a day sleeper. That's why, from now on, on my nights off, I will blast my music, while singing at the top of my lungs, watch movies with the volume on 50+, have extremely loud and obnoxiously personal telephone conversations right next to the paper thin wall in the bedroom, and have extremely wild, animal noise sex. Just for revenge. I believe they do all of these things just to rub it in my face...that I'm here alone. They all know it. They all give me that "poor girl" look every time I pass them while walking to my car, or to take the trash out.
A neighbor stopped me the other day on my way out to the dumpster. "Girls don't take out trash." Thanks. Are you saying because I have short hair I should just automatically change my name to Shane or Shawn and start taking hormone supplements, only to one day have my necessary sex change, so my brothers and sisters can start calling me their bro-ster? I just laughed. My head was filled with ass-hole comments, none of them appropriate to really say to a neighbor, whom I have only said a quick hello to in passing. I bet he doesn't even take out his own trash, leaves it for his woman to handle, or if he does, I bet she has to bag it and put it by the door so he'll even remember. In response to my tense laughter he replies "Well, maybe you need to find you one of those then." Then gave me the "poor girl" look again. I bet I'm the talk of the building. The weird, tattooed, stays up all night - so she can sleep all day, quiet as a mouse, takes the only available open parking spot because her parking stall is a thousand miles from her front door, alone, crazy cat lady who takes out her own trash...heaven forbid. Not that I have cats or anything, but I'm sure they think I do.
My neighbors directly across from my front door own 2 cats that look EXACTLY alike. Their living room window faces my door, so whenever I leave my apartment, for any reason, there they area, the 2 over confident felines. Perched and waiting to pounce, which, I'm sure they would do, except there's a few panes of glass between them and I, other wise I'd be yesterdays tuna to them. They sit there, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, almost like statues. If their eyes didn't follow me and I walked down the side walk, I'd believe them to be actual statues. I think they're in on the scam, and also plotting my demise. Their big beady eyes, sharp claws, scratchy tongues, and alter egos. One of these days I'm going to wind up missing. When I do...point fingers in that direction. Ask questions later. Euthanasia. Hey, it happens. Don't be scared to talk about it. Circle of life bullshit.
Above me, the "woman" of the household, which I have never seen - only heard, prefers to do everything in heels. Vacuuming, yoga, dishes, pick her noise, cleaning the toilet, P90-X, laundry....you name it. No need to call her and ask you what she's doing, just come hang out with me for 5 minutes, I'm sure we can figure it out, or at least make up some good stories! Neighbor across the kitchen wall, let's just say he's the meanest gay man I've even met. Nuff said...with his white BMW. He needs to go back to drivers education and re-learn how to park...I'm just saying. The man on the other side of the bedroom wall...I have only seen once. I'm not sure what he does, or where he goes, but he's gone A LOT! I say he's a secret agent, and a contracted killer. He seems the type. Good man by day, killing off the scum bags of society by night. Knows how to cut you a thousand ways before you even know you've bled to death. Super secretive agent man. He probably does that whole "push a button on the toaster" thing in the the morning while drinking his coffee, and ten different assault weapons pop out. He chooses the paper clip to suffocate you with, because it's his specialty and he's just THAT good. I saw him look at me like he was picturing all the ways he could off me. I'm not crazy.
Ok, maybe a little crazy...next thing you know I'm going to be talking about the one time that I was abducted by aliens and got anal probed. And the true story about the cold war, the real Bermuda Triangle, what actually does happen at Area 51 and my outlook on why tin foil hats are the only way to keep the government out of our private thoughts....
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