I'm so ready to be over this guy. But like in Heathers, when Veronica says that someone elses head is just going to sprout up in place of the current Heather, I know if it isn't him, it will just be SOMEONE ELSE!! Lord God, relieve me of this obsession. Male addiction is NOT recommended, my friends. Why can't I just fucking habitually smoke pot like everyone else in the county?!!! Pot can't insult me or fuck a bunch of SUV driving bitches. GROSS!!! I can't deal with his persona getting him so laid. Oh, I'd take him as my own without hesitation, don't pay no never you mind. Having him would do wonders to my own persona. He'd raise my worth cuz he leads with his crotch when he walks like the true alfa, engine fixing, opinionated, dark coffee drinking, kayaking Fuckchops he is. AAAAAAAAAAAAA. I forgot that in the title, so there's some AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA for you. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. It's going to pass. And then it's going to be replaced by some other obsession for some other fucking asshole who will reject me and make me feel like shit. Because I am karmically fated to suffer at the scoff of disapproving males.
OH GOD!!! I just found a gray hair. If you'll excuse me I have to go shoot myself for a minute.
My friend emailed me something about some guy who was saying something about how catholics and their guilt are so much more interesting than a guy who knows he's good looking and always has great sex. I don't really know what my point is, except that maybe I need an interesting ex-catholic instead of This Charming Man and the subsequent thoughts of him and sugar plum fairy sluts fucking in my head.
That said, I've been eating sugar for days. I think I'm sabotaging the weight loss I've been enjoying. Well, mostly enjoying, except that I can't successfully dress myself in ways that are efficient for leaving my home. I bought a pair of pants, since none of mine particularly fit. My co-worker/friend said, "Yea, you need more than one pair of pants."
Who knew the depths of my ability to complain would extend to whining about needing to buy new clothes because I've LOST so much weight. I'm a champion complainer apparently. Bring it.
No, I don't want to be all martyr-y and sulking and bitchy and negative. So much practice with looking on the dark side of things though. Oh, it can be fun, can't it? But it drains the lymph nodes of their power, or something like that. Weakens the ol' immune system, brings about more of the miserable same, scares the children, keeps one single, renders one ALONE on many night after many night after many day and night and alone, lonely day and night and following day. Not that I'm always pissed or bummed, cuz I don't think I am. AM I? No, I don't think I am. I spread my sunshine. Like shmear. I'm good at spreading incidentally. Or is it consequently? Can it be both? Anyway, working at a bagel shop gives me quite the ability to spread. All day long. But that's kind of a tangent, while the rest of what I write on here is linear and full of purpose and insight.
That fuck bag!!! Why did he even enter my realm? I began by calling him The Mirage and then took to calling him The Miracle. But Fuckchops and Fuckbag are really much more true to his personality, now that it's been revealed. Less to do with me and my perceptions or experiences, and more to do with objective reality.
Ummmm...I guess that's plenty for now. The sugar makes me write things. I can't really apologize on behalf of the sugar; I'm generally not authorized to speak on behalf of the sugar. But I am as sweet as the processed refinement that I crave and kill motherfuckers for. And eat in dutiful amounts.
Speaking of, do you watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force? You should. I don't really speak in terms of "should" for the most part. But I feel really confident about that. I bring it up because one media reference isn't enough for a blog post. ANYway, I currently play the role of M.C. Pee Pants it seems. Go forth now. With this important final paragraph to confuse and alienate you.