Wednesday, February 21, 2001

"Guns don't kill people, cops kill people" --- from Cheech and Chong's Still Smoking

Well. I know I've been gone for along time, but I never imagined people would actually well, uh, miss me. You know what? I hate fucking with templates. They're so goddamn obnoxious. Oh, well. In the end it's definitely easier for me. I'm always to lazy to log onto my site and change something.

I need to keep my online journal because it does a better job of recording the thoughts that swirl around in my head all day and need to be put to rest on paper. It's kind of like blowing my nose.

I'm boring. I do have stuff to bitch about, of course.

I started school at the Academy and not only do its walls hold pictures of high school graduates, they also have GED graduates. And some little evil dipshit in the back of my mind (I don't mean this in a schizophrenic way, don't think I'm trying to be cool) said, Hey . . . Your ex-boyfriend THOMAS who completely broke your heart and whom you're still not over got his GED.

So I did one of those dumb ass things that I think all people do. I scanned the various faces of the graduates thinking to my self, I hope I don't find him, I hope I don't find him, I hope I don't find it . . . And then Shit, there he is! And all over again I felt like someone had punched deep into my body, maybe an effort to make my soul come out of my mouth or something. I'll admit that sometimes even I do stupid shit like that.

I HATE him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. But I love him. Grrrrrrrrr. Essentially I do want him to be happy in his life but I don't want to know the details with the ugly, titless, dumb, deep-voiced, rat looking, SUPPOSED girl he's enaged to.

Not that I think it'll last. They'll have a couple of kids and realize that real life is too hard and end up hating each other. I'm not saying that because I'm a cynic, I'm saying it because I know very few young couple who get married and stay married.

Thomas is such a dumbass. He's just marrying her because the two of them are both disgusting (really, how can I be in love with him?) and they're afraid of losing each other when she goes to Japan for a year. Hahahaha. That's fucking pathetic. I myself am not going to marry until I'm completely secure in every way possible. One of my friends wants to stay at home with her children and let her husband support them all. I wanted to slap her. I would have, except that I don't doubt that she and her prospective husband will stay together.

Maybe with me it's just that I've been hurt to many goddamn times by way too many goddamn assholes that I don't trust anybody. I think Liz Phair's song "Fuck and Run" best describes my romantic life right now. There's safety in sleeping with random strangers (while I'm using condoms and am on birth control). No one can hurt me because I don't have orgasms anymore. It's my medication that keeps me from orgasming. I can't wait for the day when Paxil will not be a part of my life, but I know that's no time soon.

Anyhow, I have a weird thing about orgasms. I'm only able to have them when I'm with someone I love; that means only to people have had the ability to make me come: Thomas and myself. Orgasms are just too emotional for me to have with some guy I met who I'm fucking. And I'm fine with not coming. Too much seems to be focused on orgasms. I don't know. I love foreplay. That's when I have the most fun. And I have fun while having sex. I am completely safe (emotionally) as long as I don't come.

I slept with Brendan again last night. It was good. I got blood all over his sheets though, and my period had been over for like a week. I think it made him feel like a stud. Sometimes I don't like him. Most of the time I do. Just know that I've learned not to be a doormat after that asshole Thomas.

And while we're back on the subject of him, I have to mention something that makes me laugh so hard that alligator tears start streaming down my cheeks that are flushed with my teeth parted, laughing so hard that my jaws hurt and I can't breathe.

Barbie, Gena, and Lindsay have all been to the bagel shop where Thomas works several times each. So we're talking like many incidents, not just one or two. Whenever one of my friends goes in there, she or he sees stupid (dare I type her name and devirginize the keyboard?), uh, well, we'll call her . . . The Moose (that's what Gena calls her). Every time one of my friends goes in there, the moose is sitting on the couch, lovingly gazing at Thomas all day while he makes sandwiches and spreads cream cheese on bagels and pours cups of coffee. She's going to Japan in May and she decided to take the whole second semester off because she'll get too behind or something. And uhmmm, the school year ends on May 24th? Yes, it does. Talk about codependency!

Well. As long as it's her and not me.