When there are so many ways you can f@$k yourself? And so many of the wrong people are out there? They are so easy to find--turn around! There's one right behind you!
There are two great ways to f&*k yourself I can think of, right off the bat:
Half Ass
These people give you a half-assed time of just about everything: they can only see you half the time; they call sometimes, and it's just dry blah-blah, nothing meaningful; they give you just enough attention to string you along, but when it comes down to the nitty-gritty (whatever that means to you) they are just not around. And you wonder: will this get better? Will this person change? Will I ever get what I want (attention/time/sex/marriage) out of them?
The answer to those questions is 99% no, so shed your tear, and just tell'em you gotta go. And if you don't have the strength to forget about them, imagine this scenario: What if someone magically gave you the attention/time/sex/marriage you were looking for? How do you feel? Is it comfortable for you? No? That's why you're at where you're at, baby.
Another Great Way to F&^k yourself is to go out with the
Full-On Ass
These people are "there for you" all the time. There for pissing on you, that is. No matter what you do, something is not right. There's no end to complaining,finding a way to look down on you, making you feel bad. After a while, you may find yourself lying to them, keeping things from them, not talking to them quite so much, or in the same way. You may feel resentful. Sometimes, the issue that you keep from them may seem small, like your religion, if you go once a year. But the issue will come up and keep growing, until you find you are lying or sneaking or feeling resentment toward your partner, who is there for you, pissing on you because they think your religion is stupid.
You really do not need this person either, no matter how secure you feel with them, or how much they say they need you. They just need you to make them feel better about themselves. No matter how much they say they need you, dump them. You will find out how replaceable you really are, because these people just need someone--anyone--around to make themselves feel better. And losers abound. Didn't you trip on one on the way to work this morning? I bet you did!
If you do not have the strength to dump this person, I must ask you: why do you want to feel like crap? Is this the way your parents treated you? Has everyone treated you this way? Do you think there is no one out there who will treat you better?
How about this: Can you treat yourself any better? Do me a favor and try, because I can't stand to see anyone piss on you that way.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
In high school, I used to paint portraits and the human figure 16 hours a day. I used to skip class to go to the art room and paint. No one gave a shit, because I got all A's.
I'd come home and paint more. Painting basically stopped when I came to NY fifteen years ago. No space in my tiny apartments.
This weekend, I painted portraits about 8 hours each day. Everything was fine, and then on one deep breath, I felt like I inhaled something more than air--it felt like my soul.
"Where have YOU been?" I asked it, a tear in my eye.
"Asleep, I think."
"Fifteen years? Screw you!" I thought at it.
It settled in to my body complacently.
And people wonder why I have problems with depression.
I'd come home and paint more. Painting basically stopped when I came to NY fifteen years ago. No space in my tiny apartments.
This weekend, I painted portraits about 8 hours each day. Everything was fine, and then on one deep breath, I felt like I inhaled something more than air--it felt like my soul.
"Where have YOU been?" I asked it, a tear in my eye.
"Asleep, I think."
"Fifteen years? Screw you!" I thought at it.
It settled in to my body complacently.
And people wonder why I have problems with depression.
Monday, July 25, 2005
I spent the weekend painting a portrait of my boyfriend and his dad--was supposed to be done for Father's Day (ha). But on Saturday night, Nike and I went out on the town. Love and Victory-- out for play on Staten Island. Smells like trouble, doesn't it, Sparky?
As much as I am outraged at shmuckish come-ons at myself, I am more so when I go out with a friend. I mean, don't these guys watch old movies? Why can't a Jimmy Stewart or Humphrey Bogart type come over and ask her if she wants a cigarette or something? There we were at the Sri Chinmoy show talking about the 20 instruments sitting on the stage, when a man in front of us starts staring at us. Staring hard. Not looking away. I see him, because he's in Nike's general direction. I thought he was going to get a crik in his neck. "Hey, Nike, that man is staring at us." She glanced up. The second she did, he said, "It says nature on your shirt. I like nature."
Have you slapped your forehead yet?
If not, try this: He hears her accent and says, "So, are you from Russia?"
Nike: No.
Schmuck: Poland?
Nike: No.
Schmuck:Ukrainia
Nike: No
Me: How many countries are there in the world? Two hundred?
Nike: I'll give you a hint. Mediterranean.
Schmuck: Greece!
Nike: Uh-huh.
Soon after they announced Sri would be 1/2 hour late. We left. Wonder why.
OK, this guy did not follow ANYTHING in my ToGL formula. Nothing. He stared for too long. (Creepy) He talked about her instead of our surroundings (which were interesting) so it sounded like a boring line. Then he didn't pick up on any visual cues (Nike was being nice in trying to respond to him, but not looking him in the eye). And he beat a dead horse.
This is why I emailed the Staten Island Advance today, and asked for their submission guidelines for their love & dating section.
As much as I am outraged at shmuckish come-ons at myself, I am more so when I go out with a friend. I mean, don't these guys watch old movies? Why can't a Jimmy Stewart or Humphrey Bogart type come over and ask her if she wants a cigarette or something? There we were at the Sri Chinmoy show talking about the 20 instruments sitting on the stage, when a man in front of us starts staring at us. Staring hard. Not looking away. I see him, because he's in Nike's general direction. I thought he was going to get a crik in his neck. "Hey, Nike, that man is staring at us." She glanced up. The second she did, he said, "It says nature on your shirt. I like nature."
Have you slapped your forehead yet?
If not, try this: He hears her accent and says, "So, are you from Russia?"
Nike: No.
Schmuck: Poland?
Nike: No.
Schmuck:Ukrainia
Nike: No
Me: How many countries are there in the world? Two hundred?
Nike: I'll give you a hint. Mediterranean.
Schmuck: Greece!
Nike: Uh-huh.
Soon after they announced Sri would be 1/2 hour late. We left. Wonder why.
OK, this guy did not follow ANYTHING in my ToGL formula. Nothing. He stared for too long. (Creepy) He talked about her instead of our surroundings (which were interesting) so it sounded like a boring line. Then he didn't pick up on any visual cues (Nike was being nice in trying to respond to him, but not looking him in the eye). And he beat a dead horse.
This is why I emailed the Staten Island Advance today, and asked for their submission guidelines for their love & dating section.
Friday, July 22, 2005
P.A. Meeting
Hey everyone.
So, um…this is my first time here, I guess. Oh, right. My name. Hi, my name is Suki, and I am a phalloholic. Hah. Right. Did I say that right? Ok, good.
I guess my addiction to cock started when I was fourteen or fifteen or so. How could I help it really? I had a major depression problem, and getting laid made me feel so…good. And once I started, I had to have more. I mean, it was really all I could think about. I used to draw anatomically correct pictures of cock in the margins of my notebook. Realistic detail.
But I didn’t think of it as a prrrraawblemm, if you know what I mean. And then I wanted it in every orifice. So far, I only found three that work good. But you know, a guy doesn’t need a big dick to fuck you in the head, if you know what I mean.
Ha.
So, I don’t know when I realized it was a problem. I never cheated on anyone. Ok, not never, but only once and it involved an iron maiden full of eraser sized vibrators and you know I’m not ever going to do that again--when could that happen again? But anyways, I said I almost never cheated, but I do run through guys like crazy. You know? I mean, I’m worried I’ll run out of them. Locally. I mean cause what happens is I need it a lot. I mean ah laawt. And guys think that’s all I want them for or that they have to constantly perform all the time. And that’s not true. OK, well it’s true sometimes, but I only hear complaining after five in the morning. And I won’t be treated like crap, either.
Ok, okay, here it is…this is when I knew it was a prrrraaawblem. When my guy went on vacation for three days, and my pussy ached so bad, I cried. The whole, entire time. I was almost hospitalized for dehydration.
Ok, is that enough? Alright. Thanks for listening.
So, um…this is my first time here, I guess. Oh, right. My name. Hi, my name is Suki, and I am a phalloholic. Hah. Right. Did I say that right? Ok, good.
I guess my addiction to cock started when I was fourteen or fifteen or so. How could I help it really? I had a major depression problem, and getting laid made me feel so…good. And once I started, I had to have more. I mean, it was really all I could think about. I used to draw anatomically correct pictures of cock in the margins of my notebook. Realistic detail.
But I didn’t think of it as a prrrraawblemm, if you know what I mean. And then I wanted it in every orifice. So far, I only found three that work good. But you know, a guy doesn’t need a big dick to fuck you in the head, if you know what I mean.
Ha.
So, I don’t know when I realized it was a problem. I never cheated on anyone. Ok, not never, but only once and it involved an iron maiden full of eraser sized vibrators and you know I’m not ever going to do that again--when could that happen again? But anyways, I said I almost never cheated, but I do run through guys like crazy. You know? I mean, I’m worried I’ll run out of them. Locally. I mean cause what happens is I need it a lot. I mean ah laawt. And guys think that’s all I want them for or that they have to constantly perform all the time. And that’s not true. OK, well it’s true sometimes, but I only hear complaining after five in the morning. And I won’t be treated like crap, either.
Ok, okay, here it is…this is when I knew it was a prrrraaawblem. When my guy went on vacation for three days, and my pussy ached so bad, I cried. The whole, entire time. I was almost hospitalized for dehydration.
Ok, is that enough? Alright. Thanks for listening.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Terminal Hurl, by Drongo
Last night I worked late and got down to South Ferry about ten to seven. The 7 p.m. boat from Manhattan canbe pretty crowded and there were hordes of sweatingcommuters and tourists waiting around. All the seatswere taken--except for three near where I was standing. People kept going up to the empty seats toclaim them for their sweltering buns, but nobody tookthem.
As soon as they arrived at the seats they couldsee why they were empty--what looked like a completejumbo bagful of chewed-up, liquefied Cheez Doodles*oozed there on the floor in front of the middle seat.Two tourist chicks came up, and when they saw thepreternaturally bright orange pile of vomit,simultaneously said, "Ewwwwwwww!"
One young hipsterlet out a "Whoa!" as he almost stepped in the stuff. Areally square middle-aged commuter guy simply shruggedwhen he realized he wasn't gonna get his hoped-forseat. After a few minutes of this, a Hispanic man, a civilian, got up from his seat and went and fetchedtwo stacked-up orange traffic cones that were sitting by a nearby pillar for some reason. The guy put thecones around the puke. Then the doors opened and I joined the shuffling mass of humanity to get on the boat.
*"Gotta have cheese? Need that cheddar cheese flavorin a crunchy snack? See the world in an orange haze?Feed your need with Wise Cheez Doodles®, the crunchysnack with cheese to the max! Wise Cheez Doodles® willsatisfy your craving for cheese with big awesomecrunch and extreme cheese flavor. And be sure to eatall you want — it's not like there's a cheese shortageor anything!"
As soon as they arrived at the seats they couldsee why they were empty--what looked like a completejumbo bagful of chewed-up, liquefied Cheez Doodles*oozed there on the floor in front of the middle seat.Two tourist chicks came up, and when they saw thepreternaturally bright orange pile of vomit,simultaneously said, "Ewwwwwwww!"
One young hipsterlet out a "Whoa!" as he almost stepped in the stuff. Areally square middle-aged commuter guy simply shruggedwhen he realized he wasn't gonna get his hoped-forseat. After a few minutes of this, a Hispanic man, a civilian, got up from his seat and went and fetchedtwo stacked-up orange traffic cones that were sitting by a nearby pillar for some reason. The guy put thecones around the puke. Then the doors opened and I joined the shuffling mass of humanity to get on the boat.
*"Gotta have cheese? Need that cheddar cheese flavorin a crunchy snack? See the world in an orange haze?Feed your need with Wise Cheez Doodles®, the crunchysnack with cheese to the max! Wise Cheez Doodles® willsatisfy your craving for cheese with big awesomecrunch and extreme cheese flavor. And be sure to eatall you want — it's not like there's a cheese shortageor anything!"
What Men Are Like or the Downfall of Mankind
So, every once in a while, I talk about love. I ask people for love advice, and see what they say. I’ll say, “My boyfriend said did this or that, and I don’t think it was right.” And they will say, “Well, that’s what men are like.”
Ladies magazines say the same thing: men cheat, men trade-up, men are lazy, men are not “emotionally available.” (that’s in quotes, because I don’t know what it means.) My mom would say stuff like, “men are babies.” My grandmother would say, “Never put out. Men will talk about you, and you will lose your good reputation.” My friends actually believe that if you have sex too early with a man, that he will dump you because you put out too soon. (I almost always have sex on the first real date--I have never had this problem.)
Well, let me tell you what women are like: women cheat. Women trade-up. Women are lazy (that’s why they clean the house so angrily). Women are emotionally unavailable—they just hide it better. Women are babies. Women try to ruin a man’s rep by talking about him behind his back. If you have sex too early with a woman, she may think you “owe” her something.
Men suck. Women suck. People suck. That is the real truth. We look for excuses for shitty behavior in people we love. We use sexuality and gender as excuses for shitty behavior. Because being sexual is automatically “bad” right? And the other sex is the other, and so we automatically don’t understand the other, right? I find this completely crazy. I do my best to treat the men in my life (past and present) very well, and I expect (and have gotten) great spans of time when I was treated very well by my significant others.
There are a lot of shitty people (and you have probably dated some of them) out there, who have no values or morals. These words have gained a real negative/conservative/judgmental flavor, but they are about following one’s inner beliefs of what’s right and wrong, and sticking to those beliefs. They are about how we treat other people, and how we want to be treated. Sex and/or gender should really have nothing to do with this at all.
Ladies magazines say the same thing: men cheat, men trade-up, men are lazy, men are not “emotionally available.” (that’s in quotes, because I don’t know what it means.) My mom would say stuff like, “men are babies.” My grandmother would say, “Never put out. Men will talk about you, and you will lose your good reputation.” My friends actually believe that if you have sex too early with a man, that he will dump you because you put out too soon. (I almost always have sex on the first real date--I have never had this problem.)
Well, let me tell you what women are like: women cheat. Women trade-up. Women are lazy (that’s why they clean the house so angrily). Women are emotionally unavailable—they just hide it better. Women are babies. Women try to ruin a man’s rep by talking about him behind his back. If you have sex too early with a woman, she may think you “owe” her something.
Men suck. Women suck. People suck. That is the real truth. We look for excuses for shitty behavior in people we love. We use sexuality and gender as excuses for shitty behavior. Because being sexual is automatically “bad” right? And the other sex is the other, and so we automatically don’t understand the other, right? I find this completely crazy. I do my best to treat the men in my life (past and present) very well, and I expect (and have gotten) great spans of time when I was treated very well by my significant others.
There are a lot of shitty people (and you have probably dated some of them) out there, who have no values or morals. These words have gained a real negative/conservative/judgmental flavor, but they are about following one’s inner beliefs of what’s right and wrong, and sticking to those beliefs. They are about how we treat other people, and how we want to be treated. Sex and/or gender should really have nothing to do with this at all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
