Return

It is now well into 2010 and this is my first blog of the year.

I'm not going to apologize to my 3 readers. I had school. Fuckers.

Well I wouldn't have restarted my blogging if it wasn't for me creeping on my friend's girlfriend's blog. She was so enlightening that I decided I will start to become more enlightening.

Anyway ... weather was blistering hot. Pretty sure I felt the back of my knees sweating. You know shit is serious when the back of your fucking knees perspire. I hope this coming summer won't be as much of a letdown as the past two summers have been. But living in southwestern Ontario (holla!), you never know what you get. I'm just praying for one beach trip ... that's not much to ask for, is it?

Well, that's not all ... BF, some friends and I are planning a camping trip for June. BF has never as much slept in a tent so never mind camping. I think I signed onto this trip just for the sheer entertainment of watching BF pitch a tent and trying not to complain. I love him and he's a great guy, but methinks BF is too high maintenance for camping. I should remind myself to keep notes during this trip.

My rambling is senseless ... I just wanted to write to let everyone know that I'm not quite yet dead.

Reason # 8234623 why I hate parents.

So today I was sitting on a bench in the mall talking to a friend about life. I then heard the piercing sound of a child screaming and crying like his mother was beating the life out of him. I look over to see that it was another overweight 5 year old red in the face and breaking sound barriers with that fuckhole of his.

I turn to my friend, roll my eyes and mutter "And this is why I don't want kids." Somehow, Super Mom of the Year managed to hear me through her child's screams. She looks me dead in the eye and declares "HE'S AUTISTIC." In my head, I'm thinking "Oh, shitty deal." I laugh at my ignorance and life goes on. But NO.

Super Mom decides to leave her bratty kid and march over to me to tell me AGAIN that her son was autistic. Convo went something like this:

Mom: "HE HAS AUTISM"
Me: "Well maybe you should put a sign on him so that people can hide their reactions to your screaming kid."
Mom: "He's Autistic, EDUCATE yourself."
Me: "I'm quite educated and I do know that autistic kids don't look any different from normal kids ... so to me, he just looked like another screaming fucking brat."
Mom: "Well, he's autistic!!!"
Me: "He's still screaming and disrupting my pleasure, if you can't keep your kid under control -- handicapped or otherwise -- then you should keep him at home or expect people to look at you like I did. I'm sorry that I laughed at your autistic son, but I'm not sorry that I still find his screaming irritating."

Moral of the story? Don't yell at me because you lost the genetic lottery with your kid. Just be thankful that someone thought your kid was like every other kid for a moment -- bratty, annoying and useless.

I hear Montreal's a great place ...

So just earned my Facebook photo creeper badge by looking through my younger cousin's friend's boyfriend's sister's (for serious) photo album of all of them on a night out.

Seeing all those cute young ladies (ages range from 18-20) looking fine as hell in their going out gear made me have a mild panic attack. Flashes of BF leaving me for a hot young thing was enough for me to close Safari right down, instead of safely clicking onto the 'profile' button to take me to a happier place.

Twenty something in closing in on me and I already feel like I need a visit to the plastic surgeon to tweak some things on me. Bigger boobs always get the job done.

How sad is it that I am already worrying about younger, hotter women coming in throngs to toss me off my throne.

As I age, I become more aware and self-conscious of my phobias. The list includes some (but not all) of the following:

Coulrophobia - fear of clowns
Astraphobia - fear of thunderstorms
Ligyrophobia - fear of loud noises
Nosophobia - fear of contracting a disease
Scotophobia - fear of the darkness
Tomophobia - fear of surgical procedures (on oneself) ... but I'm entranced when I watch injections.
Scoleciphobia - fear of worms
and to a certain extent, Phobophobia - fear of phobias

Most of these stem from traumatic childhood incidents. Some of these are downright understood. But is there a period in one's life when one grows up and gets over their fears?

Like when you flush the toilet. I admit, I used to be scared shitless of flushing the toilet when I was younger. I was also certain that The Terminator was going to pop up from the space between the toilet and bat tub. Not the ACTUAL Terminator ... in my hazy memory I distinctly remember being terrified of a cardboard cut out of him jumping up. Don't ask.

I digress.

I do, however, recall reliving the memory of my toilet fear (Terminator-less) among my friends who were able to confide in the exact same phobia as me. Eventually, we all outgrew that irrational fear and managed to get used to flushing without running away shortly after.

So why, I ask, whenever I go to a bar or club I have to play the "What's Behind Door Number ..." game? Clearly, everyone using these facilities is over the age of 19 (or be old enough to look 19 -- so we'll say 14 for argument's sake). I know I am not over my irrational fear of clowns ... but I also don't encounter enough clowns in a day to get used to them. But I do indeed use a toilet at least 3 times a day ... and have become accustomed to the roaring flush. Am I crazy to assume that other people have used toilets enough to get over their fear of flushing? Or are people that fucking inconsiderate to not flush the fucking toilet after using them? These are the same jackasses who probably complain about the state of the washroom and feel so entitled and above the facilities that they believe that they are too good to flush the toilet after emptying their bowels for another round of slut fuel. These are also the same assholes who think running their hands under a stream of cold water for 3 seconds is suffice enough to ward off the disgusting germs that plague a nightclub's bathroom. Nevermind that you couldn't even lift your cheap vinyl clearance heels to the toilet handle to flush the fucking thing (because you're too good for it and you couldn't bear to come in any contact with germs) ... you're the same bitch who had to USE YOUR BARE HANDS TO JIGGLE THE GERM INFESTED STALL'S DOOR OPEN TO WASH THEM UNDER COLD WATER FOR 3 SECONDS AND THEN PROCEED TO "DRY" THEM ON YOUR POLYESTER BLACK PANTS AND THEN GO BACK OUT TO THE DANCE FLOOR TO DANCE SEDUCTIVELY WITH YOUR DIRTY HANDS ALL OVER YOUR HAIR AND BODY. FUCKING MORON.

Fuck. Just flush the damn fucking toilet like a fucking grown up.

I didn't think I'd be able to still enjoy a good old fashioned kegger at the age of almost 22.

But I did. Perhaps one can never get too old for drinking games and keg stands.

*Happy birthday Boyfriend, I'm glad this was your best birthday ever.

One dilemma of this no sugar and sodium diet is the rapid weight loss.

I was sitting well at about 120 lbs -- a good weight to start with since I'm hoping to buid a more muscular figure. But since I cut sugar and sodium (sodium restriction started about 2 weeks ago) out, I'm hovering around 110 lbs. 10 fucking pounds in two weeks. What the hell ... let's hope it stops here.

So school begins in less than a month. My first class begins on September 15th and my excitement grows as I look forward to buying school supplies. Actually, that's the only thing I am shitting my pants about. Every year since I was about 12, I skipped happily through Staples or Office Depot throwing anything I saw into a cart. My parents happily obliged because they weren't spoiling me but investing in my future. Year after year, I got highlighters in assorted sizes and colours (even though my highlighting preference was and will always be the thin fluorescent yellow), overpriced pens in every shade (when I ended up always using the blue BIC Cristals) and overloaded on stacks of 200 ruled sheets of paper (1 package was suffice enough -- the rest was "borrowed" from classmates).

Now as I enter what seems like my 70th year of school, have I learned any cost effective ways of keeping myself supplied throughout the school year? No. I still get a high around this time of the year when retailers send out their Back To School fliers and I gawk shamelessly at 80 page notebooks on sale for $0.18 as if they were scantily clad women (I like what I see, what can I say?).

The only downfall to this year's excursion to the office supplies aisle is that my parents can't foot the bill anymore (because I am turning 22 and it's getting quite pathetic) so I must restrict myself to 20 packs of ruled paper this year.