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Entries Tagged as 'fucking paradise'

Good Freaking Goodness

July 6th, 2009 · 15 Comments

Less than a week until the wedding and the stress has been incredibly awful. Last week I decided to stop making decisions. I can tell my indifference to most things is annoying my mother but I don’t know how else to react. When I offer an opinion about my wedding, it is shot down so I can shut up or attempt to fight it out. Lame.

After telling my mother that I wanted to write a very carefully worded letter to Walt Disney thanking him for promoting the myth of fairytale weddings she told me that most brides give their mothers more responsibility so they don’t have to be all freaked out. It’s funny because I thought putting my mother in charge of making and transporting all of the food, coordinating borrowing tables, chairs, and tablecloths was a lot of responsibility. But apparently it is not enough because she continues to make shitloads of spreadsheets about everyfuckingdetail and lives for long conversations about table placement that make me dream of suicide. I don’t know what else to give her unless she wants to wear my wedding dress.

I just reread the previous paragraph and I am a total bitch! Which our good friends S and V told me is permitted. They said Mike and I both get a behavior “pass” this week. (But after the wedding they’ll start making a list – HA.)

S also saved me from my mother yesterday after the ridiculously overstressed transportation of the tables and chairs to the cabin. He jumped in and helped with discussing details I lacked the brainpower (or desire) to address. And at the end of the day when we were at S and V’s house, being fed delicious vodka cherry concoctions, S perfectly summed up the day of watching our families interact when he said, “There are too many cooks in the kitchen!” Suddenly I don’t feel so bad about mentally checking out and spending most of my day taking deep breaths and playing solitaire on Facebook.

Categories:Anxiety, confession, Engagement, fucking paradise, if anyone needs me I'll be drinking in my closet, my dysfunctional family is better than yours, wedding
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I Need More Cats

October 14th, 2008 · 25 Comments

I am sick to fucking death of dating. Not that I’ll be stopping anytime soon, because I was raised in a (loving) dysfunctional household and I don’t know when to say when.

A few months ago I had an interesting conversation with my dad about dating. (Weird, I know.) He said the shitty part about internet dating is that you don’t have a “real” connection with the people you are meeting*. Well, except that you both pay to meet people on the internet. All you can do is cross your fingers people are genuine because you aren’t going to see them again through mutual friends, or run into them at some shared activity. There is no accountability. Don’t want to talk to someone anymore? Pretend they don’t exist. The end! I’m guilty of this, as well. Sometimes it seems silence is more kind…which leaves me wondering: what the fuck happened to make (insert name of anyone interesting I’ve dated since moving to stupid fucking God’s Country) disappear? I feel like I have been doing a pretty good job of not being the crazy girl. My boundaries have improved. I’m not fucking each dude within the first 20 minutes (I’m all way up to 40 minutes of conversation before sex in the Starbucks bathroom). And I wait at least 5 minutes AFTER sex before I profess my love for him, tell him I want to have a million of his babies, and that I can’t wait for him to meet my cat.

Communicating with men via dating websites the appropriate amount of time, graduating to personal email or phone, then eventually in person is exhausting. Especially when you meet and you immediately know it’s not gonna happen. Whether it’s because he’s educated to fucking infinity but has yet to discover the joys of deodorant, freaking you the fuck out by attempting to destroy all the boundaries you’ve set (HELLO! Red flag d-bag!), or you’d rather tongue kiss your cat. All of which makes it more frustrating when seemingly decent men disappear.

Does anyone know who Random Carol is? ? I’ve been receiving referrals from her, but her blog is private.

And to the person who is coming here by way of a “what to ask to my future husband” Google search, you are in the wrong place. (I don’t know why I’m the second result either.) If you continue to return, I may be forced to write a list of things to ask the lucky fucker.

*I hate it when my dad is right.

Categories:boys are the dumb, Club Celibacy, cobwebs in my privates?, confession, emotional impotency is not hawt, fucking paradise, hell is for single people, it's called sarcasm, I’ve lost that loving feeling, my milkshake brings all the hobos to the yard, obviously crazy to leave the bay area, The Crazy
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Fuck Monday

September 22nd, 2008 · 25 Comments

  1. I bombed my bio test. Boo.
  2. Daytrotter is an awesome website to discover new Indie music. Especially if you lost your entire iTunes library when your hard drive went boom.
  3. Really bummed about that stupid bio test. May reward myself for not crying about it with a milkshake.
  4. In internet dating news: I’m communicating with a few decent (seeming) men. Haven’t met anyone in person, nor has anyone declared their penis small. Quite an accomplishment!
  5. Decided to go ahead and make the trip to the bay area next weekend. Excited to see my family and friends…hopefully the rest of the week goes by smoother than it started.
  6. Last week I decided if Algebra were Star Wars my teacher would be a Jedi. Today I decided he’s a Sith Lord after spending 160 minutes solving twelve systems of equations. I regularly leave class with LESS knowledge than I began. FUCK.
  7. I mentioned in a post last week that I named an asshole in a creative writing story after an ex-boyfriend. The next assignment from my teacher requires I keep that asshole in the story and award him full custody of an infant. Which is great, because I made him a DRUG DEALER. Can’t decide if I should write him out of the story with a shooting, overdose, arrest involving drugs, an arrest involving drugs and CPS, or all of the above. You might think I’m taking a class on writing Lifetime TV mini-series…and you would be right! It’s the only class I’m acing right now. So hooray for soap operas.
  8. The other day I watched a guy tell a woman how beautiful she was, as he walked by. So distracted by her beauty, he didn’t pay attention to where he was walking and he walked straight into a pillar. Fucking awesome.
  9. I got so mad at a shitty-ass teenage driver on Saturday night when she (unsuccessfully) tried to pass me and got stuck next to me (after tailing me sofuckingclose I couldn’t even see her headlights for 10 minutes), that I yelled “You drive like a spoiled piece of shit!” When her passenger started to yell back, I told her she was a “Fucking cunt.” Which marks my official transformation into a crazy old lady who will yell at kids to get off my mother fucking lawn. And I have the T-shirt to prove it. Interesting, I was wearing it during the road rage screaming match.
  10. Time to go get that milkshake.

Categories:Assholes, confession, fucking paradise, getting my learn on, I miss sleeping, I've had better mornings, if anyone needs me I'll be drinking in my closet, list, Uncategorized
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My Own Brand of Crazy

August 4th, 2008 · 19 Comments

Last night my mother made pie for dessert. For three people. I commented that we didn’t have dessert very often when I was a child, which opened the flood gates of denial and weirdness. Mom bossed me around for a few minutes and told me that we had dessert ALL THE TIME when I was a kid. I don’t know why this even matters, but it does. Maybe because I’m trying not to become a lard ass, but we only ate dessert on special occasions.

Insisting that my childhood was AS IT WAS, prompted my mother to harrumph, “I’m SO sorry you had such a deprived childhood.” At this point my dad and I rolled our eyes as she continued to name all of our old neighbors, who she was going to email to prove how wrong I was about dessert. Um, yeah, because all those people who were casual acquaintances, made only because of geographical ease? They will know exactly what happened in our house. For fucks sake! Half of our family doesn’t even know what happened inside of our house. Because we thrive on secrecy, denial and repression. Just like all families. Right?

I still can’t believe this all started because of pie. PIE!

The whole pie argument was very much like talking to my paternal grandmother, who remembers all six of her sons as total and complete angels. They never cried, fussed, snuck out of the house, were rebellious or acted in any sort of unbecoming manner. Especially not the drug addict or the sociopath. ANGELS! ALL OF THEM!

All this freaks me out because I don’t relish joining the land of dementia. Sure I like rainbows, unicorns and blue skies with white puffy clouds…but I also like reality. I like knowing that life is fucked up and hard sometimes. I like having conversations of substance, even thought they aren’t always pretty, and not just a forty-five minute description of a bloody Sunday drive.

I am totally not regretting my decision to live with my parents; neither are my future therapists or the voices in my head.

Categories:fucking paradise, happy happy joy joy, mid-thirties teenage angst, my dysfunctional family is better than yours, obviously crazy to leave the bay area
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Turn That Frown Upside Down

February 15th, 2008 · No Comments

My friend, Zanny, asked me THE silliest question today.

“If I go to Hawaii for a few weeks for work, will you come see me?”

Now I can’t get this out of my mind…


Only my blinding white ass is playing in the water and I’m applying a never ending supply of sunscreen. And there are a lot of fruity drinks in pineapples!

I’m so high on the thought of Hawaii that I’m not even angry about getting a cult primary song stuck in my mind.

If you chance to meet a frown,
Do not let it stay,
T
urn that frown upside down
and Smile that frown away.

No one likes a frowny face,
Trade it for a smile.
Make the world a better place by
Smiling all the while!

Categories:crossing my fingers, fucking paradise
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