Who Feels Like Accepting My Apology...?

WOW.

I'm in the middle of an acrimonious marriage that's refusing to become an amicable divorce, is all I can say. That, and SORRY you guys. I'll apologise individually later, because, well, telling people to fuck off individually, by name, is one thing: naming them and giving details of who they are to me is completely different.

I don't mind offending people, but I'd hate to embarrass anyone by mentioning, say, how sweet they were to some random German girl, and listing that as one of the reasons I should never have told them to fuck off (because really, they are a lovely and often selfless person).

I don't mind calling everyone I know an asshole, but c'mon. I'm not about to start saying how sweet you all are, each in your own little ways.

Except maybe you, Dan (Daniel, indeed, lol). You are just enough of a girl, that I can probably apologise specifically to you, and mention all the gently inquisitive, tender, reassuring, amusing emails I get, every time you think I'm upset... thank you for all that. I'm very sorry I threw a fuck-you your way (naturally I mean a fuck-you that's not meant literally... I'd *love* to throw a fuck-you-fuck-me-let's-fuck your way, lol).

And do you know what? That mostly goes for the rest of you. You're my friends, and if I can ever manage to get myself disentangled from all this, you should hit me up. We'll see what happens.

For sure, I don't want any of you to fuck OFF... so please just ignore my last ranting nonsensical post.

Fuck you guys

No, seriously. Fuck every last one of you.

Fuck you, William. I know you've never done anything to hurt me, but hey, fuck you anyway. Douglas? Fuck you. I know you'd like it if I meant that in a different way, but fuck you. Daniel (I had to stop and think about your actual name, lol) fuck you too. Again, I'm not sure why, but fuck you. John? Fuck you. Just because, well, why not. David? LOL I would *quite* like to fuck you, but I think I won't. And Paul, FUCK you....

OH NO WAIT WE HAVEN'T DONE THAT IN MONTHS AND YOU STILL WON'T GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well. Just fuck me. THIS is my fucking life. And I don't have a single thing to say, and I'm still saying it.

...........................................

I think I'll just go to bed now... everybody enjoy the suddenly brighter aspect of the room I'm no longer in.





PS, If I've hurt your feelings, well, you've all got my number. Send me a text, and I'll either apologise, or I'll hurt you some more. Who feels like taking a chance today?

My Weekend on the Piss

So. Last Friday, I was meant to be going out and getting shit-faced. I was in my mindset, outfit assembled, food-free all afternoon, ready to get pissed, looking forward to downing all the booze I could fathomably keep in my stomach...

And then, once I was out of the house, I just... lost the will. I had a few drinks, yes, and I was relatively tipsy at one point in the evening, but then I just...??? I dunno. I just couldn't be arsed, if you know what I mean. All that business of strutting about in my tall shoes, keeping my skirt from riding up, sucking my tummy in, making sure my make-up didn't smear, flirting with people without actually picking anyone up, and not saying anything stupid enough to piss off the friend I was actually there with.... I just couldn't do it. I just *sigh*

I think I've mentioned once or twice, I'm just basically losing the will to live, lately. I've got no idea what's wrong with me, well no, I know exactly what's wrong with me, but there's nothing I can do about it in the short term, so why am I letting it get me down...

I just don't give a fuck.

I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel/I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby/I'm not okay, you wear me out/I'm sleeping my way out of this one with anyone who'll lie down...

...there, I've made a new song, not mine and not rhyming at all, and just as fucked and mish-mashed and broken as my life, and every line is relevant. If there's anyone out there who's slept with me and reading this, you might want to keep an eye on that last line.

All kidding aside

I'm not in a bad mood, today. He Who Must Not Be Named and I have reached a temporary truce, and for the moment, I'm just looking forward to enjoying my weekend. (Which is proof positive that you guys ought to provide me with a British passport, no questions asked--I have officially been in England long enough, that I now possess the ability to switch off and be a lazy good-for-nothing the last 2 days of any week during which I have upcoming plans.) I'm so ashamed... but it goes back to that whole eat, drink and be merry thing. Maybe I could eat a little less, lol, but I'm going to be merry this weekend (if I have to drink myself into a coma to do it).

I'm just so tired, you know? Worn out. I need a boost (GREAT, so you're gonna down loads of a depressant substance to help you do that, stellar idea) and, mood-lifts aside, I need to relax, so I'm going to do it the good old-fashioned way. Or, 'better living through pharmaceuticals,' as my stepdad always used to say. Not that alcohol is technically a pharmaceutical--and what wouldn't I give for a blister-pack of 40mg codeine, now there's a high you don't want to come down from--but, we must make do with what we have, right? Right.

10 pints of cider and a 6-pack of alcopops, here I come.

AND. Even better, I have the world's MOST Designated Driver all lined up to ferry me to and fro, all across the Northeast, to as many different bars as I like... and he's *SUCH* a gentleman, he wouldn't take advantage of a drunk girl if she walked up to him and stuck her hand down his pants.

Lol. Although maybe I should try that. Nothing like corrupting the incorruptible.

But all kidding aside (as the title of this post says) I just want to go out and have some fun. Cut loose. Let my hair down. (Have a cliche, lol.) And with a little money, a little time out of the house, and well, just a little (if you don't get the joke, don't worry about it)... I'm all set.

If I'm not too fat to fit into my going-out clothes...

I Feel Chubby...

I feel chubby, oh so chubby,

I feel chubby, and tubby, and plump--

And so chubby, and I look just like a dowdy frump (lalalala LA lala LA lala)

I feel chunky, oh so chunky,

It's not funky, how chunky, I feel--

And so chubby, I would roll downhill just like a wheel...

See the chubby girl in that mirror there? (What mirror where?)

Who can that enormous girl be? (Oh that one, OH, ummm)

Such a chubby face, such a chubby smile, such a chubby girl, such a chubby MEEEEE.... (ouch)

I feel bovine, I'm expanding, and my waistline is landing on COW,

For I eat, and there isn't no stopping me NOW....................... (nom NOM)

Always

I have this friend.

I always, always, always have this friend... always a different friend, always the same situation.

Cowardice

I am such a hypocrite.

Such a lying, hiding, whining, sniveling, fucking coward.

All that SHIT about change, and praying for courage, and wanting to reinvent myself and my life and my dreams... it's all just fucking bollocks. I couldn't reinvent the fucking wheel, with all of ancient fucking Mesopotamia standing alongside me, giving me pointers.

And yes, you, YOU, you know who you are, I probably *did* say 'fuck' one or two times too many up there, but strangely, I don't GIVE a fuck. Moving on.

I am so sick of this. I am just... ill... when I think of the way everything turns out. When I think of how hard I try, and how I'm so fucking *inept* that my best efforts produce no tangible results... I just want something more. I just want to have what I want, and not feel guilty or heartless or ashamed or conflicted about it.

Like a wise man once said--OF COURSE I want to have my cake and eat it too. WTF else would you do with cake?

Or like an arguably wiser man once said--eat, drink, and FFS be merry, because tomorrow you're worm-food (okay, bacteria-food, but it doesn't have quite the same ring, does it?).

Any way you look at it, life is meant to be enjoyed, and I am just not enjoying mine. Partly that's because, yeah, I really kind of AM a slut, and I want to fuck most of my friends, and poor me, I'm too married and too maternal to do that... on the other hand, I also want some basic rights and freedoms that I'm being denied. I want to be able to have friends in my house, without having to face the Spanish Inquisition if some of them happen to be male (it's at the point where I *do* expect it, haha). I want to be able to set up a direct debit to the charities of my choice, without worrying that the other party on my fucking account is going to log on and cancel them all when he's in a strop. I want to be able to have people sleep on my floor for 3 nights in a row, I want to be able to get absolutely shit-faced once in a while, I want to be able to change my clothes in front of my webcam once in a while and give a friend a thrill, without feeling like a complete cunt.

Marriage is meant to be something sacred, I get that. It's a joining of hearts, of souls, of bodies. It's a meeting of minds, a diversifying of skills, a pooling of resources, that's meant to last a lifetime (longer, if you're a Mormon)... But somehow, marriage is the only equation in which adding 2 positive numbers actually reduces the sum total...??? Marriage, a union in which 1 + 1 = .... 1?

Surely that only makes me a half of something, as opposed to a whole... surely that makes me something other than what I was meant to be.

I'm just tired of it. I'm tired of compromise. I'm tired of being less than I am.

I just want to go back to being myself again.