Archive | March, 2009

Melancholy & Disappointment

It is mostly the weather.  Between incredibly gorgeous bouts of sun and warmth and horribly drab periods of nonstop rain and thunder, it’s spring, through and through.  Today is the melancholy side of spring.

I popped in The Last Kiss as I drove into work this morning, a present gifted to me by the talented Jess.  I had been going off about the movie (um, hard not to hate the normally loveable Zach Braff in that douchey role) and she confessed that the soundtrack was almost redeeming. 

One song hit me harder than most today, and it never really ever hit me at all before, hard or otherwise.  Lyrically, it’s obviously written over an ending romantic relationship.  The more that I listened, though, I realized that it is applicable to any separation.  Friendships can end just as suddenly and without any discussion as well.

I think about how it might have been.
We’d spend our days travelin’.
It’s not that I don’t understand you.
It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.
But you only wanted me
The way you wanted me.

So, I will head out alone and hope for the best
And we can hang our heads down as we skip the goodbyes.
You can tell the world what you want them to hear;
I’ve got nothing left to lose, my dear.
So, I’m up for the little white lies
But you and I know the reason why
I’m gone, and you’re still there.

I’ll buy a magazine searching for your face
From coast to coast, or wherever I find my place.
I’ll track you on the radio
And I’ll see you’re listing a different name
But as close as I come to you
It’s not the same.

So, I will head out alone and hope for the best
We can pat ourselves on the back and say that we tried.
And if one of us makes it big
We can spill our regrets
And talk about how the love never died.
But you and I know the reason why
I’m gone, and you’re still there.

So, steal the show
And do your best to cover the tracks that I have left.
I wish you well and hope you find whatever you’re looking for.
The way I might’ve changed my mind
But you only showed me the door..

So, I will head out alone and hope for the best
We can pat ourselves on the back and say that we tried.
And if one of us makes it big
We can spill our regrets
And talk about how the love never died..
But you and I know the reason why.

Reason Why, Rachael Yamagata

In other news, because HOW EMO CAN I BE FOR REALS?, I wanted to share this with you, courtesy of The Bloggess. Only because Bryan and I recite this to eachother all the freakin’ time.

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My Mother Pussbucketing Post

Y’all’s Mad Libs suggestions were incredibly phenomenal.  Each submission made me literally guffaw.  What a diverse collection! 

Alright, as promised, here is my pre-written rant, with your choices thrown in.  I used a completely way of choosing the words in that I picked the ones that made me laugh the hardest in certain places.  Enjoy.

I am so fluffing mad at that crazy chickenbus situation. Why is it so pissing hard to ask that we all be undulatingly civil together just to create a wanking fabulous end result? God risotto. If you’re gonna be a whiny-moon pussywillow about not getting your own way, why toss someone else under the pouting bus? Handle your own hole! Don’t insist on acting like a spooning two year old and throwing a sombrerohead argument demanding that it’s your way or twist everyone else in the chocolatehole. Seriously, bollockswad, just man up, grow your own cracking arse, and live your own Godgravied life. Twunt.

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Interactive Mad Libs

So, I firmly believe that when you tell God something, not only does He, like, SERIOUSLY take you up on it, but He’s also gonna throw a few challenges your way to challenge you.  Like, when I gave up chocolate for Lent a few years ago, I made a red velvet cake because I thought “Red + Velvet = No Mention of Chocolate = Okay to Eat” except that Bryan, killjoy that he is and reader of the Good Book, was all like No, it’s got chocolate in it, moron, so you can’t eat it, and here give it to me so I can banish this temptation for you.

Or when Delle and I gave up carbs for Lent one year, and we went to work Krewe Ball and Miss Jo gave us The Poundcake to bring back to the crew, and it was all warm and soft and SMELLY and we got it into the car, and we made it to the end of the block before we literally dove into it with our hands, shoveling it into our mouth fist after fist, as if it was our Last Supper.

So I have both succeeded and failed at Lent, but even my failures were minor losses of a battle and not the war.  And even my successes were hard-won and challenge-heavy.

This year, I gave up cursing for Lent, which, in all honesty, is one of the harder sacrifices I’ve had to make.  Not because I so relish those words, but because, sadly, they so freely flowed from my lips that I hardly took pause to use them.  Now?  I have to think every.single.phrase through before it leaves my mouth, and while this is a good thing that I’m sure regular people do.. not so much for me.  With the verbal diarrhea.

My challenge this go-round has been TRE-MEN-DOUS, like, seriously, gawd.  And while I have my Twitter friend Anthony be my cursing translator for me when we can fit it into 140 characters, I still have need to go on rants that are of massive proportions.  Um, this week especially. OMFG, THIS WEEK.

So I’ve been trying to figure out why I so relish the curse words.  I know I’m a language freak, so dur, but also, I think it’s that there’s a creativity required in choosing just the right word for it.  It’s a finesse.  And then, you get the right reaction dependent on picking this one word — which already has a built-in shock value — and throwing it into your line of thought.  So it’s the creativity involved.  Hmm.

Which is where you come in!

Please copy and paste your contributions into your comment and fill it out as you go.  Tomorrow, I’ll insert your contributions into my newly scrubbed rant (NOW WITH NON-EXPLETIVES!), and we can all have a good laugh.

Cause I so totally fu .. dging need one.

1. verb
2. verb
3. verb
4. verb
5. noun
6. noun
7. noun
8. verb
9. noun
10. verb
11. noun
12. verb
13. noun
14. noun
15. verb
16. noun
17. noun

Remember, I don’t need curse words in here.  I need creative ones!  Peek back tomorrow to see the end results!

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On Wedding Rings

My quote for the day, as provided by one of my favorite Twitter pals, @choragus:

“A pure hand needs no glove to cover it.”

– Nathaniel Hawthorne

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Hypocrisy & How My Humility is Better Than Yours

Alternate Title: My Humility Brings All the Boys to the Yard

So, there’s this blog I read.  And I’m stupid for reading it, because I hate it.  Every.single.word just infuriates me.  The writer ires me to no end.  AND YET I READ IT.

I’ve tried to figure out what it is exactly that I can’t stand about it, and I’ve come to realize it’s the blatant hypocrisy there.  This writer enjoys being hurtful.  This writer has actually attacked people I love, and I’m all like, WTF, WRITER?! and they still continue to do it.

But what REALLY grinds my teeth?  When they write about how blogging is immature and infantile.

.. um.. sorry?  Come again?  Wait, let me refresh the page ON YOUR BLOG, MY DEAR.

Then there’s the rants about how some people.. how dare they?.. put their whole lives on display.  They pimp out their children and their husbands and their pictures and MY LORD, how incredibly attention-starved must one be to do that?  And by the way, can you possibly come over and see this link to my new project that I’m doing?  Or maybe just click on an ad or two while you’re here?  What?  You think I’m being hypocritical, by asking you to indulge in my endeavors while bashing everyone else for doing the same?  Of COURSE I’m not.  Because I’m clearly better than you.

And that, my friends?  That just plain ole pisses me off.

Look, there are few ultimates I can put down on paper and stand behind.  I can’t say “never” and “always” very many times, because in reality, there are very few “nevers” and “always” that remain unchallenged.  I also mess up a bit sometimes a lot.  But I also feel that this medium that blogging has offered us — and by us, I mean the greater blogging community, those of us who hone our craft through trial and error and by supporting eachother — the ability to share our stories openly, and stories have both good guys and bad guys and sometimes, the good and the bad reside in the same body.  Life is messy and juicy and worth getting up to your elbows in.  It may not always have a perfect, spic-n-span lemony-fresh smell to it, but dadgummit, it’s got truth behind it.  And I give a lot more respect to bloggers who include all of the good, the bad, and the ugly when they write.

My child ate cat pooI have run through neighborhoods dressed as a hooker. I have suffered through PPDI failed at breastfeedingI don’t work well with jalapenos. And I’ve pooed on a toilet seat.  I’m sorry if you feel these things make you think that I need to grow up, but my Lord, it never stopped you from reading.  And you can say that me publishing these events may make me infantile or exhibitionist or attention-starved or whatever, but I think they make me human.

Of course, yes, I see the hypocrisy in my reading something that I know will ire me.  I know that makes me no better.  But yet, I feel like venting about it here (and no, I won’t link to the blog full of posts that just prove my point, because why give them the exposure that they villify but then hope for?) and saying that I appreciate — nay, I NEED bloggers that are honest and forthcoming about their lives to make me feel more sane in mine.

I could teach you, but I’d have to charge.

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