The secret lives of girls......

The secret life of girls.... is that we obsess over everything. Everything that happens to us involving a guy we may like, really like, love, stopped loving etc.....always involves minor obsession over details. We re-count stupid things we did or said a million times trying to figure out what exactly it was that made him NOT call. Was it the cookie wrapper stuck to your ass (love that story Dana), the story you told about running over your ex with your car (1 too many sangrias and that story always seems to come up), or the fact that you refused to stay over his house the other night despite the fact that he SWORE you could leave your jeans ON.....You always wonder which one of these things was the TURN-OFF. But then again, you were on your best behavior and he still didn't realize that he couldn't live without you...hmmmm.
So, now that the Date is over and he obviously isn't calling, its time to obsess over the "damage control" tactics. This is where you try to come up with some cute and witty myspace message, or random flirty text message that shows that you kind of care, but doesn't make you look too desperate (this is just in case he lost your number or his phone wasn't working -you know, the REAL reason he hasn't called to set up another fabulous date night with you).
So you eventually you send the text, you are very familiar with the one "Hey, had a great time the other night lets catch up soon".....and still no response. Time to obsess again. Now you have to check your phone every 30 minutes for the rest of the night to make sure you didn't receive a text that you didn't hear. Then you have to re-read your sent text at least 3 times to make sure you didn't spell something weird, send it to the wrong person, or come off "clingy". Still no response. Eventually you are done freaking out over the text and now it is time to obsess over why you are "un-dateable", why NO ONE Likes you ever. You start to poor yourself a glass of Charles Shaw red and then you hear something beep.....
Oh, wait.......your text just went off. Yea!
Then you see his response text, it doesn't sound flirty or romantic. It just says "Come over". You look at the clock. Its 2am. Bars just closed. Time to obsess over what to do, what to wear, how to respond and "Is this a mass text, or is it just meant for me?" You know if you go over there you are turbo-slut, and you know if you don't go over there you are going to get filed away in the back of his brain along with the name of his 2nd grade teacher. So, what's a girl to do?
You tell me. :)

I didn't REALLY want you to call anyway.......

My phone number is like the Bermuda Triangle.
When I give it out to someone that intrigues me, they never call. Actualy, they disappear...never to be seen again.
I have to tell myself things like....they left my number in their pocket and it went through the washer machine, they left for Africa to do charity work and there is no phone, they were on an airplane to the bahamas and got lost in the Bermuda Triangle etc.... to make myself feel better and not like a total loser.
The only time a boy calls my phone anymore is after 2am when the bars close and one of my guy friends needs a ride home because he got way too drunk and no other girl was dumb enough to allow them in her vehicle.
Welcome to my life.

sad

I feel it all.....

I feel it all I feel it all
I feel it all I feel it all
The wings are wide the wings are wide
Wild card inside wild card inside

Oh I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one to hold the gun

I know more than I knew before
I know more than I knew before
I didn't rest I didn't stop
Did we fight or did we talk

Oh I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one to hold the gun

I love you more
I love you more
I don't know what I knew before
But now I know I'm wanna win the war

No one likes to take a test
Sometimes you know more is less
Put your weight against the door
Kick drum on the basement floor
Stranded in a fog of words
Loved him like a winter bird
On my head the water pours
Gulf stream through the open door
Fly away
Fly away to what you want to make

I feel it all, I feel it all
I feel it all I feel it all
The wings are wide, the wings are wide
Wild card inside, wild card inside

Oh I'll be the one to break my heart
I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll be the one who'll break my heart
I'll end it thought you started it

The truth lies
The truth lied
And lies divide
Lies divide

Alone

Just recently I have started to finally feel comfortable doing things alone. I went to a hard core show alone, I've travelled alone and I've gone to movies alone, etc....but for some reason people have issues seeing a girl do things ALONE. It is starting to become apparent that everyone that sees a girl alone in public immediately thinks that she has something wrong with her.
Today, I went to breakfast alone (before I went to church alone) and I felt like EVERYONE was staring at me as I ate my scrambled egg whites at the counter of the diner. It was like they were waiting for "the guy" I was with to show up at any time. When I went up to the cashier to pay my bill the guy actually had the nerve to ask me if I dined alone?!. Then when I replied "yes" he asked where my friends and family were?! As if that is any of his fucking business. What if I had no friends? What if I was an orphan?! What if I was a friendless orphan that just wanted to eat her f'ing scrambled eggs in peace without being harassed about her solo status? Geez people.......when I am alone, leave me alone!

Across The Universe

See it.....

Happy Valentines day.

Get your slow dance on......

F*ck Valentines Day!

I am convinced that Saint Valentine works for Hallmark. The man created a holiday that only terrible things can occur on. It makes single people feel like shit (well, maybe not single guys because in the words of my friend Todd "Valentines is the best night to go out to the bars because every chick is desperate for love and really vulnerable (aka "easy" that night) and even if you have a Valentine it costs you a small fortune to go out that night. I wouldn't be surprised if Denny's had a $150 price fix dinner on Feb 14th. And, did you know that if you get engaged on Valentines, when your significant other turns into a raging bitch and leaves you for your best friend....she gets to keep the ring, because you make the dumb mistake of "gifting" it to her on a national holiday.

Maybe I am just jaded because Valentines Day has never been good to me. I don't think I have been single on Valentines Day since I was 16, so this is a new experience for me. But I've never been happy on V-Day single or not, because something always goes terribly wrong on that day for me for some reason.
It all started way back when, in highschool, when I worked at Victoria Secret. Every perverted old man would come in to pick something out for his wife and they all had the same story "My wife is the same size as you, can you try this on for me to see if it fits?". I may have been 16 and naive at that time, but I was smart enough to know that $8 an hour was not enough to get me to pimp out freaking panty sets...The best part was, every guy that came up with that line thought he was the smartest guy ever for thinking of it. "No, asshole your wife is fat and she is going to return this shit tomorrow torn up with stains on it and I am going to be the person who has to fight with her for 20 minutes while she tries to claim she never wore the shit." Yes, i worked at Victoria's Secret when they had a no questions asked return policy and way before they started giving rubber gloves to their cashiers for handling returns. Needless to say, ladies wash that stuff before you wear it!
Next was the year my Dad sent me flowers to my work for my birthday, but they got delivered on valentines with no card......so I called my boyfriend at the time to thank him for the AMAZING bouquet of flowers.......that he DIDN'T send me (and had no intentions of sending me). That was awkward and ultimately his demise.
Or how about last year, when I came home from work to find my stairway up filled up with hot pink gerber daisies, chocolate covered gummi bears, a bottle of Italian Merlot and my little pony valentines. I figured that my ex of 3 years (that had just dumped me on New Years) had to have come to his senses and made a romantic attempt to win me back... he was the only person that could have known these were my favorite things ever..... Yeah, well I was wrong AGAIN.......the valentines surprise was from a guy I met at Kantina one night who stalked me on myspace, and read a survey I had filled out about things I liked. He had to special order the freaking chocolate covered gummi bears from germany because he couldn't find them in any stores.
But as we all know, nice guys are creepy (I know I have issues ;).... so I pretended to be sick to get out of the date, I drank his wine, ate the gummi bears, got drunk and left shitty messages on my ex's voicemail. I mean seriously, who wouldn't do the same ?!
So, this is why I am over celebrating Valentines.......or its just a really good excuse I have made up to make myself feel better for not having a Valentine ;)

From Your Dog

(from www.phatphree. com)

I mean it, I feel ridiculous. Get it off.

Lady, just because your boyfriend doesn’t want to settle down, doesn’t mean you should pretend that I’m a real baby in hopes that he’ll play along in your twisted game of “house”. I promise you’re scaring him off, and it makes you look insane. Think about it, you dress me like a Gap employee and tote me around like a damned fashion accessory. It’s disgusting, and you need to get your shit straight. Meantime, you can stop force-feeding me Altoids, you bitch.

While I’m on the record, there are some other things I could do without, you psycho. Yeah, as it turns out, I don’t really care for the ylang-ylang oil massage. It’s not relaxing, it actually hurts and generally creeps me out. In fact, it’s damn close to rape.

Oh, this just in, I’m not actually a fucking vegetarian. Do you honestly think that I prefer couscous and tofu over my lamb and beef nuggets?Lettuce wraps? Are you fucking serious… what is your damage? I would rather eat my own shit, and guess what, when you’re asleep, I do. Then I lick your whore face and laugh about it.

Don’t even get me started on my name. Louis Vuitton? You superficial bitch. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is? I’m already wearing the gayest sweater since the "Cosby Show", but you insist on naming me after an expensive line of European handbags. Seriously, fuck you. You make me look like a complete pussy and I hate you for it. For real, the next time you try to gel my hair, I will tear a hole in your windpipe. I swear to God I will.

Not that you’d ever fucking notice, but you continue to place me in dangerous situations. Just yesterday at the dog park, I could feel the cold hard stare from a Doberman through my Kenneth Cole double-breasted pea coat. Shit, even the French poodle called me a fag, and he was wearing a beret.

Do you have any idea what would happen to a dog like me at the pound? You don’t even WANT to know. I step in there with even a whiff of CK One on me, and it’s all over.

It pisses me off that you don’t pull this shit on the cat (Although it’s probably because she’s a lesbo). I am really tired of the smug looks I get from that butch-ass feline. Just once I’d like to see you put an ascot around her neck and let her feel what this shit is like. Then she’ll realize it’s not funny, and I’m in real pain here. At the very least you could throw a flannel shirt on that dyike and even it up here, you owe it to me. I promise I will end all nine of her lives if I ever get a chance to chase her without these miniature Steve Madden patent leather urban utility boots strapped on my paws. Not that I’d get far; even without the shoes I still have to battle these Italian micro suede chinos.

Listen lady, I’m at the end of my rope and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking (Yes, there’s a lot of time for that while you watch E!, thumb through your copy of People magazine, stopping occasionally to read the text message on your jewel-encrusted Sidekick). I have decided that I’m running away. I’m going to take my chances on the outside. Tomorrow morning, during doggy yoga, I am fucking gone, baby – and there is nothing you can do to stop me.

The last thing you’ll see is my puckered little asshole as I’m out the door, but not before I leave a hot, soft and juicy turd pile right on my miniature doggy yoga mat – and I’ve got a half a pound of espresso beans and 3 bran muffins for breakfast to make sure it’s a good one.

See you in hell, bitch.

Hey You, Some Guy

Found this online today.....

Hey, you, Some Guy. It’s me, Some Girl. I guess we might as well have a life together. We’re on a schedule here. I’m in my mid to late twenties; you’re two years older than me. We’re at about the same level of attractiveness. We have comparable educations. I need to mate, and you’ll probably do as well as anyone else. Let’s begin this typical courtship process, shall we?

You want sex? Fine. Roll around on me for a while. Whatever gets this moving. Are you done? Good. Now go tell your friends about it. And have a good time, you won’t be seeing much of them any more.

I guess we should go to some movies and maybe a concert or two. That was nice. Now let’s get in a fight and then make up. Good. Now let’s go camping. While camping, let’s take some pictures of us camping that we can hang up in our cubicles to remind us of the time we went camping. That will be a cherished memory.

Okay, I guess it’s time to move into an apartment together that’s about ten miles away from my parents’ house. Let’s live in this apartment for a year. Let’s go to a Memorial Day barbecue at my parents’ house. Good. Okay, time to get married.

When you propose, don’t try to do anything cute like putting the ring in my wine glass or having a sports mascot bring it to me at a ball game. It’s all been done before, and you are not a very creative person. It would probably just come off as cheesy and forced. Just get down on a knee and get it over with. New Year’s Eve works fine for me.

Our wedding will take place a year-and-a-half from your proposal. It doesn’t really take that long to set up a wedding; I just want to relish the fact that we are getting married for as long as I possibly can. During that time, I will be the center of attention. Sadly, this will be the highlight of my life. I have no aspirations to write a great book that will change the way people think, I don’t want to travel the world and witness the majesty and diversity of foreign lands, I don’t want to dedicate my life to intellectual or philosophical pursuits in an attempt to take my mind places that no one has ever gone- I just want to look skinnier in my dress than my bridesmaids. Okay, that’s done.

After the wedding, I will take a year to reflect upon the wedding. I will send thank-you notes, watch the wedding video countless times with whomever will sit through it with me, and show people pictures from the wedding that they have no interest in seeing.

Soon, everyone will tire of my wedding talk and I will no longer be the center of attention. It is time for us to buy a house, so that I have something else to talk about. It will be a three-bedroom ranch home with a semifinished basement.

You will turn the basement into a rec room with a bar. This will be pointless, as you will rarely see your friends any more, and when you do, they will have neither the desire nor the time to go down and drink in our basement because they’ll have mated too. Your masculine rec room will soon be cluttered with children's toys and my infrequently-used exercise equipment.

When people stop talking to me about our house, I will decide that we should have kids. I will take the fun out of sex by incorporating science and scheduling our intimacy around my ovulation cycle. We will conceive.


We'll Go Bowling Sometimes
When I am pregnant, I will have something to talk to people about again, and everyone will pay attention to me. I will act as if I am the first pregnant person ever. Eventually, I will give birth, just as billions have done before me.

Our children will be adequate, but not spectacular. You will want them to be athletes, but they will lack the size and skill. I will want them to be creative but they will lack the talent and drive. Despite this, they will eventually mate, too.

We will move into a larger house to accommodate our growing family. You will build a deck off the back of the house that we will use twice a summer. We will briefly contemplate an above-ground pool but in the end will decide against it, citing cost and practicality.

There will be several dogs.

We will vacation. Myrtle Beach will be our destination of choice, though we will be no strangers to Orlando.

Our kids will leave and we will move into a condo, citing cost and practicality. We will retire. Now the waiting truly begins.

Our children will provide us with unremarkable grandchildren. We will photograph them and discuss them at length.


You Will Mow Our Lawn
You will die of heart complications. Your funeral will be relatively well-attended and will last for just over an hour. Following it, some of us will go back to the condo where there will be a tray of cold cuts for sandwiches.

I will remain for eight more years, watching television and slipping away into dementia. I will die. Doctors will call it natural causes, but in reality, I will have semiconsciously willed myself to stop breathing out of boredom and defeat. It will be done.

You can pick me up at eight.

valentines day is approaching........

This holiday has let me down one to many times. I am officially boycotting it now ;)
But I do love this...........

Dirty Newport Theme Song??

Cha-Cha-Cha- Changes

Recently everyone in my life has been trying to change me. I am not quite sure why, but everyone seems to have an opinion on what I should look like and how I should be behaving. What gives other people the right to decide what is best for another person? I mean, if the worlds most perfect person came up to me and had some advice for how I too could perfect myself, I might listen.....but when people who's lives are far from perfect start trying to tell me what color my nail polish should be, there is a problem.

The crazy part is that after awhile you start to listen to these people. You start to question yourself and your style and your hair and then you realize.........I am where I am today because of who I am. I am where I am today because I am the girl that rocks BLOOD RED (its not black!) nail polish, has a pink streak in her hair and thinks motorcylce boots with a dress is sexy.

You sometimes have to take a step back and realize that if you changed your style and your image to be what these people want you to look like and act how they want you to act.......you would be just like them. You would never leave your Orange County safety net and you would be getting nose jobs, boob jobs and lip injections hoping to make yourself look so "perfect" on the outside, no one would realize how fucked up you are on the inside. You would spend all your time trying to meet a rich guy with money, instead of figuring out how to be successful on your own.

Guys in this town act like they want the girl that has a good head on her shoulders. They say they want to meet a girl that dates them for them, not for the money. But it's all a bunch of bullshit. They want the mindless piece of arm candy that allows them to treat them like dirt and will never have an alternate opinion as long as the bottle service keeps coming to the table and the Louis Vuitton luggage sets keep showing up under the Christmas tree. They want the girl that they can dress up like barbie and show off to their friends and she has to be dumb, because any chick with 1/2 a brain would see thru their shit in seconds and realize, " you aren't rich, you're just maxing out your credit cards, your drug use isn't recreational- its a problem, you are a few 6 packs away from being fat and you are quite possibly bi-polar, if not plain flat out fucking crazy" and she would run away as fast as she could in the other direction.

Check it

I recently went to the Gen Art premiere of the movie "Be Kind rewind". At first I had no idea what to expect and I wasn't even sure what the movie was about...but about 15 minutes into the movie you are hooked. This movie makes you appreciate movies and why we love them so much. It makes you want to go out and film your own movies and inspires the creativity we all have inside us. Its nice to see a movie that doesn't involve mass murder, blood guts, sex, raunchy humor and violent language for a change. Go see it!

I love it, I love it, I love it

If this doesn't remind you of a relationship you've been in at least once in your life, you haven't loved ;)



"Foundations"

Thursday night,
everything's fine,
Except you've got that look in your eyes,
when I'm telling a story
And you find it boring you're thinking of something to say.
You'll go along with and then drop it
And you humiliate me, in front of our friends.

Then I'll use that voice what you find annoyin'
And say something like
"intelligent input darlin' why don't you just have another beer then?"

Then you call me a bitch and everyone we're with will be embarrassed,
and I won't give a shit.


My fingertips are holding onto the
cracks in our foundations,
and I know that I should let go,
but I can't.
And everytime we fight I know it's not right,
everytime that you're upset and I smile
I know I should forget, but I can't.

You said I must eat so many lemons,
'cause I am so bitter.
I said "I'd rather be with your friends mate,
'cause they are much fitter"

Yes it was childish
and you got aggressive
and I must admit that I was a bit scared,
but it gives me thrills to wind you up.

Your face is pasty,
'cause you've gone and got so wasted,
what a surprise,
don't want to look at your face,
'cause it's making me sick.

You've gone and got sick on my trainers,
I only got these yesterday.
Oh my gosh, I cannot be bothered with this.

Well I'll leave you there till the mornin',
and I purposely won't turn the heating on
and dear God, I hope I'm not stuck with this one.


And every time we fight I know it's not right,
every time that you're upset and I smile.
I know I should forget, but I can't.

Bringing it back....

Transvision Vamp.