Tuesday, April 06, 2010

I am seriously pissed

This Easter weekend was pretty pathetic, with me spending the majority of my time faux-convalescing in silk pj bottoms on my aunt and uncle's bed (house sitting again), catching up on streaming TV shows, searching in almost-vain to find a hot tubbing companion and eating more matzoh than my colon would like to admit. The final evening ended in near-suicide while in a car with two Cher-loving flight attendants. I will post a bitchatinous entry on this tomorrow as the wounds are too fresh, but in the meantime there's something pressing that I must address.

Some other d-bag has now given me one of these:

Look, people, I can't deal with this shiz. If you are going to give me praise I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOU.

Evidently, this recognition for writing about stupid shit that happens to me came with a caveat that I overlooked last time, specifically that the recipient is required to reveal five little/un known things about them. So as punishment to Ryan or Jason or Achmed, whoever writes soft nonsense, I'm gonna go all emo (shocking) in...

My 5 Purty Things 'Bout Me

1. Like, omg. I, too, also had really weird associations with chewing food on the same side! Lemme 'splain: First off, I always favoured the right side, so every pattern would have to finish on the right. I would start on the left and then go to the right (L-R), then the next time it would have to reverse so you wind up with (L-R, R-L), 'cept now I'm ending on the left so it then becomes (L-R-R-L, R-L-L-R) and the madness would continue. Some kids are molested by their Uncle Carl; I had eating algorithms. My point? We're all a bit fucked up.

2. Older readers will be familiar with the "Not So Tiny Tim" tag and newer readers are probably staying up wondering what the crap that's all about. Essentially, the NSTT tag denotes posts relating to a medical condition I have called CIDP. I gave a brief explanation about it here, so feel free to peruse at your leisure, but it pretty much boils down to this: I fall down a lot. Sometimes this is funny, more often it is just embarrassing. It doesn't really effect people around me that much, although witnessing one of my splendiforous tumbles is a friendship rite o' passage, but it pretty much informs every physical movement that I make. And for those asking why I can't get it together to rehabilitate my lazy ass, well, I have no answers for you. And also, shaddup.

3. I've never been in a long term relationship. I'll give you a moment to pick your jaw up off the floor and throw something at the gob that just smacked you. All done? Excellent. Unlike my inability to hold down an exercise routine as mentioned above, I really have no answers for you on this one. My friends (claim to) love me, I am constantly being told I'm good dating material and am routinely approached by suitors. Unfortunately, they tend to leave me pretty cold. I suffer from that awesome self-hating affliction of not having the slightest interest in a person once they've appeared interested in me. Clearly, this means that there is something wrong with them. We may be gearing up for spring clothing, but my subconscious self-loathing is in fashion year round!

4. The only reason I drink, do drugs or grope strangers is cause I am bored. Incidentally, preeeeeetty big factor in blog writing, too. This is why I will never be an addict. It's not that I love the sensation of being messed up or felt up all that much; I just have nothing better to do at that moment, which is clearly healthier than addiction...

5. The only time I cry is when watching melodramatic television shows. It only happens once or twice a year, usually after a period of duress and with many non-network show lead ups of misty eyes, usually while listening to Wicked. The last huge bawl came about a year ago (oh shit, I'm due!) during Grey's Anatomy, with a near-cry occurring a month ago while watching the Desperate Housewives where Linette dreams about having a gimpy son and how she forces him to be independent and made me all, "Why didn't my parents do that? Waaaaaah. Oh wait, why didn't I?..." In any case, ABC is responsible for a solid 1/4 of my Kleenex output. The rest? Fist babies.

Okay, now that that nonsense is over, I have to pass this on to 5 other bloggers. My way rebellious theme is Bloggers That Have Ridiculous Amounts of Followers and Will Never Read This In a Million Years. The buck stops with me! Also, they're awesome.

Livin the Dream - Cause there needs to be one straight guy that I read. Sorry, Achmed.

Steam Me Up, Kid... - Cause her dog is black and so am I.

30 is the new 13 - Cause 25 is the new 18. Until May 4th when I turn 26. Mark it in yo calenduhs, bitchezzzzzzz.

HAPSICAL - Cause it's a really awesome fashion blog and also I'm getting desperate.

ecostems - Cause this is the guy I went out with last weekend he seems half decent and three quarters sexeh.

Yeah, I got nothing left at this point. If I were a male orgasm, it's pretty much just be air and lint comin' out.

NEXT TIME: How many remixes of "Believe" is too much? Evidently, not 17.


soft nonsense said...

Oh D, your grumpiness only makes you more adorable. Especially when you spell things with an additional u, such as "favoured."

You're welcome. I know somewhere deep, deep underneath your claims of douchebaggery and alleged punishments, you know you deserve one ;)

Sada said...

Well, joke's on you because I totally read this! Also, thank you. And don't worry, according to my math 26 is like the new 11. Or something.

Anonymous said...

Ah the chewing. It was that night that I realized we were doomed to grow old and hate-y together.


The Illustrious D said...

Thanks again, eh.


This shit is 4 life.