For Sale on Craig's List......
a) Why would you even have a rug like this?
b) Why would you attempt to sell it?
c) Who in their right mind buys this rug??
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
To the society of Supreme Imbeciles and Dunces:
I wish to formally apply for membership.
Not only do I have trouble letting go, I am always supremely surprised when a self proclaimed play boy, plays on with a smile.
I have thus determined that I am thick headed. I have not formally taken an IQ test, but it seems to me that while I may excel at useless subjects such as philosophy and geometry, I seem to fail miserably in the area of common sense. A great example of this is that against reason my tear ducts seem to be leaking. This has resulted in a puffy raccoon look.
I realize that time heals all, blah blah blah, however, due to the constant repetitive nature of such situations I feel that joining your illustrious society is apt.
Please send me the appropriate hat, so that all others will be forewarned of my utter incompetence.
Sincerely,
Cranky Putz.
Ps. I am in desperate need of a new heart. My current one seems to have sustained irreparable damage. Please send it to the new address.
I wish to formally apply for membership.
Not only do I have trouble letting go, I am always supremely surprised when a self proclaimed play boy, plays on with a smile.
I have thus determined that I am thick headed. I have not formally taken an IQ test, but it seems to me that while I may excel at useless subjects such as philosophy and geometry, I seem to fail miserably in the area of common sense. A great example of this is that against reason my tear ducts seem to be leaking. This has resulted in a puffy raccoon look.
I realize that time heals all, blah blah blah, however, due to the constant repetitive nature of such situations I feel that joining your illustrious society is apt.
Please send me the appropriate hat, so that all others will be forewarned of my utter incompetence.
Sincerely,
Cranky Putz.
Ps. I am in desperate need of a new heart. My current one seems to have sustained irreparable damage. Please send it to the new address.
Friday, July 27, 2007
I got home last night and the parents were sitting out on the porch waiting.
My dad held out his hand and said, “Congratulations, we are very proud of you, and remember we are always behind you.”
I almost teared up, till he said, “Now I can put your mother on the bus to your house every Friday and pick her up on Sunday.”
My dad held out his hand and said, “Congratulations, we are very proud of you, and remember we are always behind you.”
I almost teared up, till he said, “Now I can put your mother on the bus to your house every Friday and pick her up on Sunday.”
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Last night I was driving home, and I saw two figures sitting on the corner, dressed from head to toe in black. All I could see were their eyes reflecting the beam of my car. Most people would be alarmed to see the pair, but not me…Oh no I was raised in Dubai, the land of repression and oppression….(they forget to use those words in the documentaries…)….women dressed from head to toe in black, is perfectly normal.
I hate the Hijab (or Burqa.) I really do. It always struck me as terribly hypocritical the way the men in Dubai, in 100 degrees Celsius, wear white loose fitting dresses and the women wear black, from head to toe.
We women like to think that Feminism is a done deal. We forget that a few of us out there aren’t allowed to leave the house unaccompanied, to drive a car, to wear the clothes we chose, and most of all we forget that a growing number of us are forced to wear a black shroud in public, so as not to tempt other men. HMPH!
Tempt Who? You?
Underneath the black shroud, the women were as beautified as any on earth and also as vain. I always found it a little amusing to see a Muslim woman in a beauty parlor spend three hours painting her nails, getting a wax, blow drying her hair and applying henna to her hands, only to walk out in their black shroud.
I have a few friends who are Hijab wearers. They say that the Hijab gives them freedom, from the intrusive eyes of men. They say that the Hijab is a symbol of commitment and faithfulness to their religion, God and family. They say that I couldn’t possibly understand, it is their choice, their values.
They are right, I don’t get it.
Very few women who have enjoyed a lifetime of freedom from the Hijab would chose it willingly. Infact I would guess that if Halle Berry showed up tomorrow, covered in head to toe in black, we would wonder if she had lost her mind.
In my opinion the current practise of Islam, which tells women that they need to be dressed in a shroud, is not based on Islamic text. I will repeat that again, ‘The current practise of Islam is not based on the Koran.’ It is not based on history. The current practice of Islam, in the Middle East, is an interpretation of religion by a few choice families who discovered that their lands were rich with oil. It is a mechanism of control, similar to the American propagation of debt amongst its citizens.
I do not purport to tell anyone how to practice their religion, who you believe in is your business. How you believe in it is another matter. If your belief involves the subjugation of some part of humanity, well as a human, I am interested.
The Hijab is the silliest most oppressive symbol on earth. And we women should be fighting it, fighting it because we know better. If all those years ago, women of the feminist movement had said, “Oh since we have been raised as precious flowers, and it is part of our value system not to vote….well let’s just respect tradition…..” where would we be today?
We who know better, have an obligation to stand against such insanity.
As Elie Wiesel reminds us, “Let us not be indifferent”
I hate the Hijab (or Burqa.) I really do. It always struck me as terribly hypocritical the way the men in Dubai, in 100 degrees Celsius, wear white loose fitting dresses and the women wear black, from head to toe.
We women like to think that Feminism is a done deal. We forget that a few of us out there aren’t allowed to leave the house unaccompanied, to drive a car, to wear the clothes we chose, and most of all we forget that a growing number of us are forced to wear a black shroud in public, so as not to tempt other men. HMPH!
Tempt Who? You?
Underneath the black shroud, the women were as beautified as any on earth and also as vain. I always found it a little amusing to see a Muslim woman in a beauty parlor spend three hours painting her nails, getting a wax, blow drying her hair and applying henna to her hands, only to walk out in their black shroud.
I have a few friends who are Hijab wearers. They say that the Hijab gives them freedom, from the intrusive eyes of men. They say that the Hijab is a symbol of commitment and faithfulness to their religion, God and family. They say that I couldn’t possibly understand, it is their choice, their values.
They are right, I don’t get it.
Very few women who have enjoyed a lifetime of freedom from the Hijab would chose it willingly. Infact I would guess that if Halle Berry showed up tomorrow, covered in head to toe in black, we would wonder if she had lost her mind.
In my opinion the current practise of Islam, which tells women that they need to be dressed in a shroud, is not based on Islamic text. I will repeat that again, ‘The current practise of Islam is not based on the Koran.’ It is not based on history. The current practice of Islam, in the Middle East, is an interpretation of religion by a few choice families who discovered that their lands were rich with oil. It is a mechanism of control, similar to the American propagation of debt amongst its citizens.
I do not purport to tell anyone how to practice their religion, who you believe in is your business. How you believe in it is another matter. If your belief involves the subjugation of some part of humanity, well as a human, I am interested.
The Hijab is the silliest most oppressive symbol on earth. And we women should be fighting it, fighting it because we know better. If all those years ago, women of the feminist movement had said, “Oh since we have been raised as precious flowers, and it is part of our value system not to vote….well let’s just respect tradition…..” where would we be today?
We who know better, have an obligation to stand against such insanity.
As Elie Wiesel reminds us, “Let us not be indifferent”
Friday, July 13, 2007
I won an AWARD!(Actually it seems a lot like a tag….but beggars can’t be choosers…)
It’s the THINKING BLOG AWARD…awarded by my new favorite blogger Leon (I am easily bribed.)
This may be my only chance at giving an acceptance speech. So here goes:
“I’d like to thank all the bloggers out there, who toil with me, day in and day out. Reading my fanciful bits about print jobs and frisky ex boyfriends, for commenting in tens everyday, for contributing to my growing number of hits on site meter. I’d like to thank my family, friends, co-workers & Dracs who have no inkling of this blog’s existence, yet who serve as the main characters in this volume-ous fiction.
I would like to thank the inventor of blogger, possibly Justin Hall, who wikpedia credits as being the earliest blogger. I would like to thank Wikpedia, (who I could really have used during my university years,) for providing me with all the useless information I need at the click of a button. I’d like to thank Rogers who control my internet connection. Frankly I have no idea how the internet works or what it is, but I awed by my ability to use as much of it for the low monthly fee of $35.99. I would like to thank New Blogger, from saving me the trouble of writing codes. To be honest I copied and pasted my way through high school computer. I’d like to thank my first every diary, which was purple, with pink bordered pages and came with its own easily broken gold lock. I was heart broken to discover that every silver key could open your lock, but you were a good friends through all those pesky teenage years. I’d like to thank google images, for allowing me to borrow as many images as I like and for showing me the importance of variety.”
And most of all to the Company Bitch and Mad Bull, the first two blogs I ever read, you guys made me the crackblogaddict I am today…..
I thank you all,
(Drowning in tears of glee!)
Your Girl,
Cranky Putz
(I believe a part of this award/tag is to nominate 5 other blogs, so be VERY NICE in your comments...or send me gifts!!!!)
“It’s just like I know what we’re up against. This idea that we’re the good guys, we’re the nice ones, beleaguered, long suffering, misunderstood – its ingrained. We’re the ones who are advanced, brining light where we go. And for a while there was at least something to hold on to, some good intentions, some sort of real struggle. And whatever didn’t fit into that view of ourselves, we ignored. We focused on the good things and believe we were better than everyone else, Good guys surrounded by bad guys. Well, the occupation finally leaves us without a way out. It proves we’re exactly the same as everyone else. Capable of everything and anything. But no one wants to give up the illusion. So they hang on, even when things stare them in the face. It’s a huge conspiracy of blindness. Well, the occupation won’t last for ever, and one day we’ll have to account for everything. We’ll have to look back and face it all. And we’re going to see then, looking back , that we didn’t do it for security, or out of fear, or despair, we did it because we were corrupt and sadistic and out of control. We made people stand with their arms up all night, we made them crawl in mud, we piss on them, we spat on them, we threw them against walls, we put our cigarettes on their skin. And we all pretended it was not happening.”
From “Ten Thousand Lovers” by Edeet Ravel
What is happening in Palestine and Israel is so mammoth, dark and intricate that I won’t even try to make sense of it here.
People often ask whose side I’m on. I don’t see it as sides. I see it as people trying to live, exist and elevate themselves. Everyone has an opinion and idea of whose to blame, and whose innocent. Everyone has an opinion of the ‘best’ solution.
I don’t have a solution. I am fascinated by the Jewish experience. I spent two hours today reading about ‘kibbutz life.’ I feel deeply for the plight of the Palestinians; for what seems like their never ending constant sorrow.
It is my strong opinion that life is built on a million shades of grey.
Reading “Ten Thousand Lovers” will help you find a few.
From “Ten Thousand Lovers” by Edeet Ravel
What is happening in Palestine and Israel is so mammoth, dark and intricate that I won’t even try to make sense of it here.
People often ask whose side I’m on. I don’t see it as sides. I see it as people trying to live, exist and elevate themselves. Everyone has an opinion and idea of whose to blame, and whose innocent. Everyone has an opinion of the ‘best’ solution.
I don’t have a solution. I am fascinated by the Jewish experience. I spent two hours today reading about ‘kibbutz life.’ I feel deeply for the plight of the Palestinians; for what seems like their never ending constant sorrow.
It is my strong opinion that life is built on a million shades of grey.
Reading “Ten Thousand Lovers” will help you find a few.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Last night I had a slumber party.
With 7 girls
Pretty girls, who wore booty shorts, and drank daiquiris all night.
It was so much fun, like when you were in school, only now the topics of conversation were their current hubbies and boyfriends, (for me Trevor the body pillow) and work.
One of topics of conversation was around anniversaries. I realized that I have never had a real anniversary, you the kind where your ‘would be’ actually remembers and gives you a little token of affection. I should check my out Bay bill for when I bought Trevor, maybe Ill buy him a silk pillow case for our one year…….
With 7 girls
Pretty girls, who wore booty shorts, and drank daiquiris all night.
It was so much fun, like when you were in school, only now the topics of conversation were their current hubbies and boyfriends, (for me Trevor the body pillow) and work.
One of topics of conversation was around anniversaries. I realized that I have never had a real anniversary, you the kind where your ‘would be’ actually remembers and gives you a little token of affection. I should check my out Bay bill for when I bought Trevor, maybe Ill buy him a silk pillow case for our one year…….
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
You know what really pisses me off?
People who print a three hundred page document, and inevitably run out of paper.
Only they never feel the need to check on their mamoth document, so an hour later when you print your one pager, the machine is blinking “OUT OF PAPER”
And you innocently feed it paper, only to realize that it is still printing page 220…..and you like a fool have no idea it has eighty pages to go…
Grrr.
Only they never feel the need to check on their mamoth document, so an hour later when you print your one pager, the machine is blinking “OUT OF PAPER”
And you innocently feed it paper, only to realize that it is still printing page 220…..and you like a fool have no idea it has eighty pages to go…
Grrr.
Worst is when you see the 300 page document there a week later.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
I don’t really have a deep topic to discuss today.
It was S’s birthday last night, and we ended up on the patio of Rockwood, sipping martinis, and looking fabulous. It was terrifically hot and humid, but the place is really very nice. It has little booth areas that are beautifully decorated. One of the booths is a Chinese inspired bamboo booth, where you have to sit on the mat. It is the sort of place where you wished you were more like Pdiddy and traveled around in posy dressed in all white, everyone carrying bottles of ridiculously expensive liquor, tastefully grinding on each other.
There was a fire eater, oyster bar, and for good measure a few girls who were infact fellows. Skinny fellows, I was a little jealous that this she-man was skinner than me.
It was S’s birthday last night, and we ended up on the patio of Rockwood, sipping martinis, and looking fabulous. It was terrifically hot and humid, but the place is really very nice. It has little booth areas that are beautifully decorated. One of the booths is a Chinese inspired bamboo booth, where you have to sit on the mat. It is the sort of place where you wished you were more like Pdiddy and traveled around in posy dressed in all white, everyone carrying bottles of ridiculously expensive liquor, tastefully grinding on each other.
There was a fire eater, oyster bar, and for good measure a few girls who were infact fellows. Skinny fellows, I was a little jealous that this she-man was skinner than me.
Monday, July 09, 2007
I am not an animal person.
Growing up we had our share of pets, a few of whom we ate (hey it was Dubai!)
This weekend I fell in love. I met a little Yorkie named Peanut. I am not sure if it was its miniscule size, its sweet little eyes, or its overly cautious nature that took me in, but like a good date, I can’t stop thinking about him.
I spent all day re-searching where to buy one. After getting over the initial shock at the price tag ($1000 for a dog???,) I am starting to wonder if I’d make a good pet owner. I’ve always felt that some pet owners go smidge overboard in their overzealous admiration of their pets. Always seemed to me a little suspect all that cooing, ahhing and buying them mini clothes, as if they were compensating for their ticking biological clocks.
My last boss was a single lady who lived with her two cats. I still remember the day when they passed on, I have never seen anyone so heart broken. She cried all day long, and to be honest I didn’t get it. I guess once you’ve seen starving people, its hard to take an animal too seriously, no matter how cute. But I do understand how you could get very attached.
That little incident ruled out cats, and I thought I had pretty much ruled out a dog, until I met peanut. Big dogs aren’t my thing really, all that walking and poohing all over the place. Also there is something a little iffy about walking behind a dog reverently scooping up his poo while he dawdles along.
Now peanut has put me a in a befuddle. I don’t even need a dog, I may not even be that good at it. It would probably cause havoc on my social life, I would have to run home after work to make sure that the dog isn’t lonely. I could never go away on weekends without taking it with me or leaving it in someone’s care. I would have to buy silly things like pet insurance….
Yet I can’t stop thinking about Peanut and his cute little face.
Growing up we had our share of pets, a few of whom we ate (hey it was Dubai!)
This weekend I fell in love. I met a little Yorkie named Peanut. I am not sure if it was its miniscule size, its sweet little eyes, or its overly cautious nature that took me in, but like a good date, I can’t stop thinking about him.
I spent all day re-searching where to buy one. After getting over the initial shock at the price tag ($1000 for a dog???,) I am starting to wonder if I’d make a good pet owner. I’ve always felt that some pet owners go smidge overboard in their overzealous admiration of their pets. Always seemed to me a little suspect all that cooing, ahhing and buying them mini clothes, as if they were compensating for their ticking biological clocks.
My last boss was a single lady who lived with her two cats. I still remember the day when they passed on, I have never seen anyone so heart broken. She cried all day long, and to be honest I didn’t get it. I guess once you’ve seen starving people, its hard to take an animal too seriously, no matter how cute. But I do understand how you could get very attached.
That little incident ruled out cats, and I thought I had pretty much ruled out a dog, until I met peanut. Big dogs aren’t my thing really, all that walking and poohing all over the place. Also there is something a little iffy about walking behind a dog reverently scooping up his poo while he dawdles along.
Now peanut has put me a in a befuddle. I don’t even need a dog, I may not even be that good at it. It would probably cause havoc on my social life, I would have to run home after work to make sure that the dog isn’t lonely. I could never go away on weekends without taking it with me or leaving it in someone’s care. I would have to buy silly things like pet insurance….
Yet I can’t stop thinking about Peanut and his cute little face.
You got to love honest coworkers
I’m in my girlfriends office today and I innocently say, I don’t know what’s wrong, my hair is really odd these days.
They look at me closely
And then:
Yeah it looks very 80's..... you kinda look like your growing a mullet.
I now have an appointment to at the hair dressers, for what appears to be a much needed hair cut.
I have an appointment at 6 for a shrink...
I’m in my girlfriends office today and I innocently say, I don’t know what’s wrong, my hair is really odd these days.
They look at me closely
And then:
Yeah it looks very 80's..... you kinda look like your growing a mullet.
I now have an appointment to at the hair dressers, for what appears to be a much needed hair cut.
I have an appointment at 6 for a shrink...
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Go, lady! lean to the night-guitar,
And drop a smile to the bringer;
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far,
At the voice of an in-door singer.
Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes;
Glance lightly, on their removing;
And join new vows to old perjuries -But dare not call it loving!
Unless you can think, when the song is done,
No other is soft in the rhythm;
Unless you can feel, when left by One,
That all men else go with him;
Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,
That your beauty itself wants proving;
Unless you can swear "For life, for death!" -
Oh, fear to call it loving!
Unless you can muse in a crowd all day
On the absent face that fixed you;
Unless you can love, as the angels may,
With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behoving and unbehoving;
Unless you can die when the dream is past -
Oh, never call it loving!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861]
And drop a smile to the bringer;
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far,
At the voice of an in-door singer.
Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes;
Glance lightly, on their removing;
And join new vows to old perjuries -But dare not call it loving!
Unless you can think, when the song is done,
No other is soft in the rhythm;
Unless you can feel, when left by One,
That all men else go with him;
Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,
That your beauty itself wants proving;
Unless you can swear "For life, for death!" -
Oh, fear to call it loving!
Unless you can muse in a crowd all day
On the absent face that fixed you;
Unless you can love, as the angels may,
With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behoving and unbehoving;
Unless you can die when the dream is past -
Oh, never call it loving!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning [1806-1861]
Friday, July 06, 2007
CP’s Favorite Things:
Every year Oprah comes up with a list of things that she loves, and a lucky random audience gets to partake in the treasures. People scream, women faint with joy, and it’s the highest watched show of the year.
I too have a list of favorite things. Granted I cannot give freebies away to all you loyal readers the way Oprah can, and perhaps you won’t swoon with joy…..but….perhaps if enough of you express interest, next year we will have ‘sponsors’ and give Miss Oprah a run for her money!!!!
The Tobi:
The Tobi is a new feature on the shopping network. It has replaced my prior obsession with the Magic Bullet. The Tobi is a professional garment steamer. After watching over four hours of paid advertising about the Tobi (mainly at four a.m. on Saturday nights, after returning from a club) I am convinced that I need the Tobi. Infact every where I go now, I find things I could steam. Curtains, my sheets, my duvet cover, my clothes, other peoples clothes...................I am surrounded by wrinkled fabric…….
The Tobi is only four easy payments of $34.95 plus S&H…
The IPhone:
So if you google the iphone right now, you are going to get wonderfully technical reviews on the features and applications of this phone. They will go into grave detail about the phone’s productivity and state of the art technology.
I know nothing of all that.
Instead it is lust that draws me to the Iphone. The Lust of the sleek shinny body, which beckons me to trace my finger over its face, in the soft subtle way I touch my ipod. It is the promise of looking incredibly sexy dressed in a fitted suit, the iphone in my ear, giving me the ‘perfect look.’
I Lust the I Phone.
I too have a list of favorite things. Granted I cannot give freebies away to all you loyal readers the way Oprah can, and perhaps you won’t swoon with joy…..but….perhaps if enough of you express interest, next year we will have ‘sponsors’ and give Miss Oprah a run for her money!!!!
The Tobi:The Tobi is a new feature on the shopping network. It has replaced my prior obsession with the Magic Bullet. The Tobi is a professional garment steamer. After watching over four hours of paid advertising about the Tobi (mainly at four a.m. on Saturday nights, after returning from a club) I am convinced that I need the Tobi. Infact every where I go now, I find things I could steam. Curtains, my sheets, my duvet cover, my clothes, other peoples clothes...................I am surrounded by wrinkled fabric…….
The Tobi is only four easy payments of $34.95 plus S&H…
The IPhone:So if you google the iphone right now, you are going to get wonderfully technical reviews on the features and applications of this phone. They will go into grave detail about the phone’s productivity and state of the art technology.
I know nothing of all that.
Instead it is lust that draws me to the Iphone. The Lust of the sleek shinny body, which beckons me to trace my finger over its face, in the soft subtle way I touch my ipod. It is the promise of looking incredibly sexy dressed in a fitted suit, the iphone in my ear, giving me the ‘perfect look.’
I Lust the I Phone.
Channel Chance:
Not all women are gold diggers. But as the cute soccer coach I met on Sunday night pointed out, women may be able to buy all sorts of things themselves, its just a really much nicer experience when someone ‘surprises’ you with it. Also like in knocked up, it is a vain measure of your hotness. Chances are (get it, get it?) if you can get a man to buy your perfume, well, your still in the right age category, ….(I know, I know…)
My Body Pillow: Trevor
A couple of weeks ago, I spied a body pillow on sale. I went over to have a look, thinking, “Well that may be nice to have,” a little something to hold unto at night.
Ladies and Gents, since that fateful day, I am now able to admit that I am having a full out affair with my body pillow. He “Trevor” is the softest, most plush pillow ever made. Thank you Laura Ashley, how did I ever get by all these years without him.
You know when you’re tired, and you want to throw your leg over someone, but they aren’t as receiving as you’d like? Well Trevor has no qualms about me keeping my leg on him all night. He’s exactly my size, and is amazing to hug at night.
It’s gotten so bad, that Sunday night, when everyone was out at a very happening bar, dancing and boozing their way to a hangover, I was sitting there regretting not being in my cozy bed with Trevor….
So a small list of my Favorite Things: Any Recommendations from your End??
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Love Style Russian Roulette.
I watched Knocked Up last night, and I noticed that there is a certain game of Russian Roulette women play with their lovers.
The game of, what will you do to prove you love me. The game where in the end almost all women are likely to accidentally blow off their heads….and still enjoy the luxury of thinking, jeez how did that happen?
It’s like a test we put you fellows through. I’ve heard of many Russian roulette stories from my girl friends, the kind where they demand the guy throw out his entire selection of porn, to prove that she is infact the only one he fantasizes about, the kind where she demands he tells her that he loves her, the kind where he should give up his regular boys night outs, just this once for her….the list is endless.
I think most women are aware that these demands are ridiculous and unreasonable.
But women use them anyway, and when a relationship is about to die, the game of Russian Roulette kicks up a notch. It becomes the means for gathering evidence that the helps justify your case. You wouldn’t throw out that dirty magazine, therefore you don’t care about me….
I think Lover’s Russian Roulette, is the primary way women go about sabotaging relationships….because the alternative of actually giving it a shot and risking getting hurt the old fashioned way is somehow much more scarier…it’s the lack of control.
Heck if anyone’s going to be incharge of screwing all this up, its going to be me!
The game of, what will you do to prove you love me. The game where in the end almost all women are likely to accidentally blow off their heads….and still enjoy the luxury of thinking, jeez how did that happen?
It’s like a test we put you fellows through. I’ve heard of many Russian roulette stories from my girl friends, the kind where they demand the guy throw out his entire selection of porn, to prove that she is infact the only one he fantasizes about, the kind where she demands he tells her that he loves her, the kind where he should give up his regular boys night outs, just this once for her….the list is endless.
I think most women are aware that these demands are ridiculous and unreasonable.
But women use them anyway, and when a relationship is about to die, the game of Russian Roulette kicks up a notch. It becomes the means for gathering evidence that the helps justify your case. You wouldn’t throw out that dirty magazine, therefore you don’t care about me….
I think Lover’s Russian Roulette, is the primary way women go about sabotaging relationships….because the alternative of actually giving it a shot and risking getting hurt the old fashioned way is somehow much more scarier…it’s the lack of control.
Heck if anyone’s going to be incharge of screwing all this up, its going to be me!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
What I need right now:
I need someone capable
Someone who will carry the bbq tank, not because I can’t, but because he thinks me that precious, or something equally corny
I need someone who’ll take the driver’s seat for a while, so that I can look out the window
I need someone who’ll give me a hug in the morning, and tell me I am awesomely pretty, even though I have crud in my eyes and the breath of a boozing priest
I need someone who will look over and smile at me for no apparent reason
I need someone who will call me in the middle of the day, just to have a laugh
I need someone who wants to listen to my silly jokes
I need someone who takes me to lunch and just makes me smile
I need someone who will hold my hand in public, even though he knows I’m not that into holding hands, (especially those couples who don’t let go even when they see people coming at them, and prefer to make the person walk around them,) I need him to make me want to hold hands..
Tomorrow may be different, but Today I need a man.
I need someone capable
Someone who will carry the bbq tank, not because I can’t, but because he thinks me that precious, or something equally corny
I need someone who’ll take the driver’s seat for a while, so that I can look out the window
I need someone who’ll give me a hug in the morning, and tell me I am awesomely pretty, even though I have crud in my eyes and the breath of a boozing priest
I need someone who will look over and smile at me for no apparent reason
I need someone who will call me in the middle of the day, just to have a laugh
I need someone who wants to listen to my silly jokes
I need someone who takes me to lunch and just makes me smile
I need someone who will hold my hand in public, even though he knows I’m not that into holding hands, (especially those couples who don’t let go even when they see people coming at them, and prefer to make the person walk around them,) I need him to make me want to hold hands..
Tomorrow may be different, but Today I need a man.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Recycle Update:
I keep messing up.
So far I’ve thrown organic waste, in mix materials, mix materials waste in the cardboard bin,…
To hide my fumbles I keep throwing paper towels on top of it.
Seriously this cannot be the way to save the environment.
I am thoroughly confused and there is a ton of rubbish on my desk.
Sigh.
So far I’ve thrown organic waste, in mix materials, mix materials waste in the cardboard bin,…
To hide my fumbles I keep throwing paper towels on top of it.
Seriously this cannot be the way to save the environment.
I am thoroughly confused and there is a ton of rubbish on my desk.
Sigh.
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