Bittersweet

I feel like hell.


And I have nothing intelligent to say, as per usual.


There is nothing worse than feeling hurt and tremblingly sad and then also feeling guilty like you deserve what you got. Pitiful. And I am fairly sure that I have been forgotten already. And even if I haven't, then it doesn't matter anyway because having no contact whatsoever is almost as good as being forgotten.

Fuck. How do I get myself into these messes? I just eliminated from my life the one person who I have wanted to be close with since birth.

I am so very sad. In protest of the extremely trying life that I lead I am refusing to shower for church tomorrow.

Let's play Thanksgiving roundtable:

I might hate life at this particular moment, but I am thankful for.....
friends (particularly Chloe, the one who I call emo, and the one called Emi, the one who likes Big Bear)
ramikazes
Bridget Jones
my sister
my parents (though not their absence)
the phrase "blood is thicker than water"
Pride and Prejudice
Collin Firth
Jennifer Ehle
flavored coffee creamer (ahoy, fake lattes!)
clam chowder
eggs
my Sedu
my unicorn band-aids (double size for xtra large wounds!)
my Cinderella chapstick (I would like the Ariel one the best, but it is unfortunately green instead of pink)
my ragdoll kitty and the 16-pounder that sleeps on my bed
Bo
people at work who are nice
the table tonight who wrote me a note on their receipt
public television
convertible mittens
the 80's
Disney princess ziplocs (what a find!)
Twilight
The Annotated Alice
the fact that I am really really good-looking
Barack
Nachos
Old Bay wings
Sketchy business practices
Mebos
My persuasively vivid imagination that I can use to convince myself that I am not irrevocably depressed.


"You're gonna be the death of me. I don't want you, but I need you. I love you and I hate you at the very same time."
-Kanye, et al

Firsts

I just got dumped for the first time.

MLC

My dog is fairly smart. Not on par with the golden retriever that my family used to have, but pretty intelligent for a dog. When i put on my running shoes or whip out my iPod, he knows that either he is about to get a walk or I am going to go exercise. And since its way too cold to exercise these days (aka, I am way too lazy to do it), he can be fairly positive he is going out.

And then he does this adorable thing where he waits in another room while I get ready and sits rigidly while peaking at me out of the corner of his eye. He will purposely face another direction so that only one of his eyes can see me. Odd, that one. But incredibly adorable.

My life has really hit a rut, though. You can tell because I am writing about animals in my blog. I never thought I would be that person who had nothing to write about except her pets. Well, there it is.

I suppose I could also say how I spilled coffee in the middle of my bed earlier tonight. Why these crises always happen to me I will never know.

Also, I am really feeling the effects of the recent demise of our bootleg cable.



"lose ur remote a lot.....put that shit on a leash and attach it to the end of yo couch"
-facebook group post

Precision and Perfection

Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightly, Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightly......a question for the ages. Mr. Darcy is the favorite among most, but I think that is because more people have read Pride and Prejudice than Emma. I think that if you look at the two characters objectively, you'll find that Mr. Knightly is actually more likable. But then again, part of Mr. Darcy's charm is the thrill of discovering the perfect man under all of his pompousness and social pretenses.

I'm watching Pride and Prejudice now, and for the very first time I am finding myself annoyed with Elizabeth. How can that be? She's always been my favorite. Maybe I am just too sleepy for her right now.

I will grow up for a second and force myself to turn off the television and put myself to bed.

Trite Bullshit...

is what this blog is full of.

More from last night:
I had a stalker table a couple of days ago. It was a guy (oldish, but younger than my parents) and his dad who shamelessly hit on me all night. The talked like Vegas hot shots minus the suits and the money and grabbed my hand throughout the night. Well, the came to the restaurant last night and requested me as their waitress. It was awful lots of really bad jokes that I was forced to laugh at (me saying "tell me when to stop" as I ground pepper on their salads and the guy saying "oh, I would never want you to stop, baby"). They winked at me incessantly and the dad even kissed me on the cheek. I can't tell if the dad wanted me to come home with them so that his son could have me or so that they could both get in on the action. I had to tell them that I had a boyfriend and that I didn't want any "side action" 5 times during the course of the night. Ridiculous.

I really should look into getting that mace I was thinking about.

And now I have a day of alone-ness since the parents went to Cabo for the week and I have off from work. I feel like a small child who has been played with and spoiled and is now being ignored. I will remedy these negative feelings the best way I can think of: eating my chocolate cheesecake and watching Pride and Prejudice. Law school applications? What law school applications?


Oh, and David Blaine is my new drug of choice.

"David Blaine.....make it rain."
-Lupe, I think
"The best trick ever was making the world believe that magic doesn't exist."

Never Let Your Sister Listen To T.I.

Right now I am absurdly embarrassed to have been born in Illinois. There are no words. But hey, every state goes through a rough patch after losing a gem like Obama, right? Right???

My head was so corrupted with all the bribery news that I had to watch back-to-back House episodes tonight. I had to drop my Seventh Heaven addiction after they served up an episode filled with political misinformation under the guise of a heartwarming Save Darfur theme. Gag me. I would boycott the Hallmark Channel altogether if my mom and sister and I hadn't gotten so involved in that Love Comes Softly series of movies with Katherine Heigl.

And along the lines of my Baltimore=too hardcore for me exposé. I am pretty sure that Baltimore=too hardcore for my sister too. She is fast on her way to demonstrating the quickest way to get shot in Baltimore. Which would be singing her new favorite song parody, "I can do whatever, I'm white," in the halls of her school. Oh, that one has grown up to be quite a doll.

Kansas looks a little different these days...

I don't think Baltimore will ever really feel like home. Not that my family hasn't tried hard to make it my home too. My house here feels kind of like home. But the city itself isn't really me. Or rather, I'm not quite hardcore enough for Baltimore.

Case in point:
On Halloween all the guys at the restaurant were going crazy because there was a rumor going around that the bloods were going to murder more than 30 women that night. The police said that it was just an urban legend, but the gang initiation ritual is very real. Guys must either murder or slash the faces of a certain number of women in order to become a member of the bloods. The fact that the Baltimore PD issued a statement that the rumors are false is bullshit. Maybe that is their strategy for relaxing the masses, but you only have to go to Google to find out that there are hundreds of people out there who have been victims of Halloween slashings, who know of victims, or who are gang members themselves and confirm the truth of the Halloween massacre initiation. The police should make people aware of the possibility of violence and not just pretend it doesn't exist.

I like to think that nothing bad will happen in the six block radius that is my bourgeois bubble. But this isn't Cape Town where the good neighborhoods are better insulated from crime by armed guards and distance. Baltimore is more urban sprawl than township vs. suburb and people are too unwilling to stoop to precautions like guards and barred windows.

It doesn't help that I refuse to be smart about my safety. Maybe I should at least get myself some mace.

Second case in point:
I walk into the restaurant today and the line-up that usually consists of the manager describing the night's specials started with a "please don't come to work intoxicated". And a "please don't bring your drugs to work". Whoops. Someone fucked up. Apparently the manager found little condiment cups of weed at the front desk and a bag of it downstairs. Someone is a dip shit. Why would you not just carry it on your person if you insist on bringing it to work? Its not like anyone is going to pat you down or anything, especially since I'm pretty sure that the weed that was confiscated was just added to our fearless leader's personal stash. He said that it wasn't that high quality though.

Entertaining, yes, but I am definitely not a Baltimorean 4 Life or anything of that bumper sticker nature. Seattle will always remain my heel-clicking destination.