1. The rain. It's been raining a lot lately. The rain puts a damper on my day(yes, pun intended). The thing I don't like about rain is that it makes me sleepy and less productive than usual. I spent a large portion of my day watching the Discovery Channel. Don't get me wrong--I like the Discovery Channel, but I can only watch so much of the Deadliest Catch. What a scary job those crab fisherman(is it really fishing, or is it crabbing?) have. I, for one, hate the cold. Oh, and crabs are only great when they're dead. When they're alive they are scary as hell.
2. My hair falling out. I mean, I don't know if it's really falling out, or if it's just getting so long that it seems like more is coming out. I just know that it is really freaking me out. My dad told me that I should get some Rogain for women. I don't know if that was a joke or not. You can't really tell when he's joking. When I was little, I really believed that his "favorite kids" lived in the attic. My little sister also believed him when he told her that he wasn't her dad, but "the other man" was. That didn't go over so well when my little sister told our Grandmother that. Oh, Dad, you really should learn to use facial expressions when you're joking.
3. Britney Spears. I know this one is totally random, but I watched the VMAs today. She won like three awards that she didn't even deserve. Each time she accepted her award she thanked God, her beautiful family(that apparently inspire her everyday--yea, to drink!), and the people. That's nice, right? No. She talked much like a robot, and she had a blank look on her face the entire time. Now that I think about it she was probably on medication 'cause she's friggin' crazier than a loon. Even then couldn't she have at least pretended like she was happy? Maybe she is just a robot. Maybe science has created human-like robots, but they haven't mastered facial expression yet. Maybe in addition to thanking God, her beautiful family, and the people, she should have thanked science and her Dr. as well. Maybe I just made a discovery that I shouldn't have and the C.I.A. is going to come zap my memory of the VMAs away like in Men In Black. SWEET!!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Relationships have never been my forte. The one thing that I am confident about when it comes to relationships is ending them. All of the in between hullabaloo is completely confusing and very annoying. For instance, I am not used to having to be considerate of the opposite sex’s feelings. I’m also not used to being told I’m wrong. These are two things that are taking a very long time to get used to.
I have been in a relationship for –oh- about a year and three months. Please don’t hold me to that. I’m not all about the, “Hey baby, how are we going to celebrate our 2 month anniversary?” bull. I can not honestly tell you when we started dating. I just know that it was roughly a year and three months ago or thereabouts. What ever. Anyhow, we’ve been together for however long and things are just now starting to get a little rocky.
I’m going to be completely honest and say that some of it is my fault; however, I don’t like hearing that. When I am told it’s my fault, it hurts my feelings and makes me throw things (inanimate objects—nothing important). It’s childish, and I realize this, but I like the chance to decide whether it’s my fault or not. Don’t judge me. I will also say that I can be a little demanding at times. I think we are all guilty of that. Probably not as much as me but still—GUILTY! Do I want to be told that? No. I would have realized it eventually. Maybe.
My boyfriend doesn’t like it when I tell him that I don’t like what he is wearing. Now, I’m sure that most men would agree with him on that one, but I’m sorry that I want him to take pride in how he looks. And those jeans were horrendous. I don’t think I’m demanding just because I told him to change them. I’m also not demanding just because I told him to blow dry his hair a little, or because I told him to put some wax in it. It’s not like I want him to change his whole style, just his hair and his jeans. Is that too much to ask?
At any rate, I guess the point of this is that relationships are even harder when you actually love the person. I mean, if I was still a serial dater…well we all know what would have happened the first time I didn’t like his jeans.
I have been in a relationship for –oh- about a year and three months. Please don’t hold me to that. I’m not all about the, “Hey baby, how are we going to celebrate our 2 month anniversary?” bull. I can not honestly tell you when we started dating. I just know that it was roughly a year and three months ago or thereabouts. What ever. Anyhow, we’ve been together for however long and things are just now starting to get a little rocky.
I’m going to be completely honest and say that some of it is my fault; however, I don’t like hearing that. When I am told it’s my fault, it hurts my feelings and makes me throw things (inanimate objects—nothing important). It’s childish, and I realize this, but I like the chance to decide whether it’s my fault or not. Don’t judge me. I will also say that I can be a little demanding at times. I think we are all guilty of that. Probably not as much as me but still—GUILTY! Do I want to be told that? No. I would have realized it eventually. Maybe.
My boyfriend doesn’t like it when I tell him that I don’t like what he is wearing. Now, I’m sure that most men would agree with him on that one, but I’m sorry that I want him to take pride in how he looks. And those jeans were horrendous. I don’t think I’m demanding just because I told him to change them. I’m also not demanding just because I told him to blow dry his hair a little, or because I told him to put some wax in it. It’s not like I want him to change his whole style, just his hair and his jeans. Is that too much to ask?
At any rate, I guess the point of this is that relationships are even harder when you actually love the person. I mean, if I was still a serial dater…well we all know what would have happened the first time I didn’t like his jeans.
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