Holy crap, man.
I can still get into this thing.
The last time I posted in this mother effing thing was 1 year, 5 months, and 3 weeks ago. I could have had two prematurely born babies in that time. Or one baby and one Jaundice-infected grape.
I've learned a lot about myself in those 19 periods (and 19 pregnancy scares for somebody). Including the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm a really rad chick inside of a really rad dudes body. Like that girl from Juno. I still really dig girls, though, but have spent a lot of time recently hanging out with fags. I only have to pay for breakfast and lunch now, and just go to dinner parties at night. Perhaps what I've implied is a little exaggerated, but there are few straight men who spend as much time with guys who like to suck dick as much as I do.
That sentence made me laugh a little bit after I re-read it. I thought about editing it, but fuck you guys, you figure it out.
I still haven't been on a plane. I've never been any higher off the ground than the Sky Pod at the CN Tower here in Toronto - which they have recently decorated with LCD lights that dance in the night. It's beautiful.
I've semi-recently become a pretty big pot head. I go into work high now. I come home for lunch and get stoned again. Hey, Ripley, get this; my performance has improved, I'm happier with my work, I'm meeting a lot more people, and they all seem to really appreciate me.
Three Mondays ago I got stoned and went for a walk and ended up at a Best Buy. While I was there, I considered purchasing a game for my Xbox. I started to walk around the store after talking myself into convincing myself not to buy the game. While I was walking around, I made a conscience effort to talk to as many people as I could. I had a couple of short conversations, a few words with a couple of people, and two considerably long conversations. I didn't buy a damn thing. I feel better about that now than any game ever has made me felt.
I moved into my own apartment! I don't think any of you ladies could spend a night here and not want my apple and both of my dumplings. It's too bad I've been completely shook by this woman who lives next door to me.
Let me take you back to late fall/early winter of 2006. I'm standing next to a guy I work with who looks and laughs like Eddie Murphy. We're scopin' out broads, and I lean to him and say something about shitting all over the place [for the clever], laugh, and then tell him that I would never shit where I eat [for the less clever, welcome back]. And just as I say that, Catalina walks by and I instantly correct myself, "except for her." At that time, I was still calling her "Katrina". I knew nothing about her.
Let me take you back to August of 2003. I'm at a party with my father and his friends, and my dad starts talking about a game I refer to as "Build-a-Woman". It was about taking different parts of girls (in this case) who were at the party, and build your preferred woman.
I don't remember what the woman I built that night looked like, but I can tell you from preference what she would look like. She would be petite. She would have long, dark hair, she would love to cook, and she would be in great shape. She would do things to me in the bedroom that only the people who have written to Penthouse have experienced. She also has to be brilliant. Most importantly, she had to live next door to me.
Unfortunately I've found her. And foolish for me to be so gullible to believe that my ideal woman wouldn't have any flaws.
If she were in the room, I'd refer to it as "there being things about her that are gasoline to the things about me that are on fire." I've recently become very aware of the fact that I get overwhelmed very easily, and this woman couldn't fill rain drop with the tears she's cried since I've met her. We are complete opposites in every way. We tell each other to go fuck ourselves every two weeks and within two days I'm fighting for my life to not cum.
After she pulled a classically Catalina move and sold me out for a party that I was supposed to go to last night, I returned the key chain she gave me when we began seeing each other, today. She saw it off of my keys a couple of weekends ago and tried to take it away and I almost lost my shit.
I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to manage a healthy relationship while I'm living here. If what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, then I'm training to fight bears here.
I'll blog more often, I think. When I remember the days I blogged the most, I think I was the happiest. And I think I'm more interesting than ever, so if you're interested in reading, then I hope you have a blast.
The last time I posted in this mother effing thing was 1 year, 5 months, and 3 weeks ago. I could have had two prematurely born babies in that time. Or one baby and one Jaundice-infected grape.
I've learned a lot about myself in those 19 periods (and 19 pregnancy scares for somebody). Including the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm a really rad chick inside of a really rad dudes body. Like that girl from Juno. I still really dig girls, though, but have spent a lot of time recently hanging out with fags. I only have to pay for breakfast and lunch now, and just go to dinner parties at night. Perhaps what I've implied is a little exaggerated, but there are few straight men who spend as much time with guys who like to suck dick as much as I do.
That sentence made me laugh a little bit after I re-read it. I thought about editing it, but fuck you guys, you figure it out.
I still haven't been on a plane. I've never been any higher off the ground than the Sky Pod at the CN Tower here in Toronto - which they have recently decorated with LCD lights that dance in the night. It's beautiful.
I've semi-recently become a pretty big pot head. I go into work high now. I come home for lunch and get stoned again. Hey, Ripley, get this; my performance has improved, I'm happier with my work, I'm meeting a lot more people, and they all seem to really appreciate me.
Three Mondays ago I got stoned and went for a walk and ended up at a Best Buy. While I was there, I considered purchasing a game for my Xbox. I started to walk around the store after talking myself into convincing myself not to buy the game. While I was walking around, I made a conscience effort to talk to as many people as I could. I had a couple of short conversations, a few words with a couple of people, and two considerably long conversations. I didn't buy a damn thing. I feel better about that now than any game ever has made me felt.
I moved into my own apartment! I don't think any of you ladies could spend a night here and not want my apple and both of my dumplings. It's too bad I've been completely shook by this woman who lives next door to me.
Let me take you back to late fall/early winter of 2006. I'm standing next to a guy I work with who looks and laughs like Eddie Murphy. We're scopin' out broads, and I lean to him and say something about shitting all over the place [for the clever], laugh, and then tell him that I would never shit where I eat [for the less clever, welcome back]. And just as I say that, Catalina walks by and I instantly correct myself, "except for her." At that time, I was still calling her "Katrina". I knew nothing about her.
Let me take you back to August of 2003. I'm at a party with my father and his friends, and my dad starts talking about a game I refer to as "Build-a-Woman". It was about taking different parts of girls (in this case) who were at the party, and build your preferred woman.
I don't remember what the woman I built that night looked like, but I can tell you from preference what she would look like. She would be petite. She would have long, dark hair, she would love to cook, and she would be in great shape. She would do things to me in the bedroom that only the people who have written to Penthouse have experienced. She also has to be brilliant. Most importantly, she had to live next door to me.
Unfortunately I've found her. And foolish for me to be so gullible to believe that my ideal woman wouldn't have any flaws.
If she were in the room, I'd refer to it as "there being things about her that are gasoline to the things about me that are on fire." I've recently become very aware of the fact that I get overwhelmed very easily, and this woman couldn't fill rain drop with the tears she's cried since I've met her. We are complete opposites in every way. We tell each other to go fuck ourselves every two weeks and within two days I'm fighting for my life to not cum.
After she pulled a classically Catalina move and sold me out for a party that I was supposed to go to last night, I returned the key chain she gave me when we began seeing each other, today. She saw it off of my keys a couple of weekends ago and tried to take it away and I almost lost my shit.
I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to manage a healthy relationship while I'm living here. If what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, then I'm training to fight bears here.
I'll blog more often, I think. When I remember the days I blogged the most, I think I was the happiest. And I think I'm more interesting than ever, so if you're interested in reading, then I hope you have a blast.