Love, and other awful things.

What is love anyways? I like to call it a rationalization of obsessive emotions that one feels for a person. Essentially, its a word used to describe feelings that cannot be described under “normal” circumstances. Of course, this point is up for debate, and being that I’ve argued my side down so many times, I’m not willing to turn it into an argument today.

So why am I posting about love? Because its awful. Its used as an awful excuse for poor behavior, and its an awful word spit at someone who may or may not be feeling the same way, just as a measure to keep them close (in other words, playing the guilt card). At least, those have been my encounters and experiences.

Anyways, I watched an interesting and hilarious rom-com (I know, its so unlike me to do so) called Love and Other Disasters that of course, got me thinking about love. The movie made a pretty valid point: you don’t know who your soulmate will be, so you have to stop idealizing it, step out of your comfort zone, and give love a chance.

But at what point do you stop giving love a chance? Or at what point do you realize that your given chances are to people all too similar who you know are all wrong for you, yet you still keep going for the type? When do you break that cycle? When is it okay to take a break from giving people chances and just focusing on yourself?

Or, how do we know we’re not staring at our soulmate on the daily? Are they someone we talk to regularly and we don’t realize that they’re meant to be our life partner?

I don’t know. I’m actually fearing the answer, because I’m not prepared to accept that person into my life. Its just easier for me not to have to choose, and instead just wait until options fade down to one choice or bust. Or maybe I’m wrong about everything.

I’m not in love. At least, not that I know of…

Of Men and Models: A Rant.

This past week has literally been one of those “what the hell is wrong with people” kind of weeks. Between the fashion industry and the male population tainting the Midwest, an induced headache state of anger and not-so-philosophical attitude has surrounded me, and possibly scared several innocent bystanders. Where to start.

Models. If you are not black, do not rock an afro-wig and wear black face. Editors, if the model is not white, do not request your digital manipulator to bleach her skin. Industry, if you want a caramel skinned girl with freckles that’s 5′ 10″ and skinny (*cough*), then do a f*cking casting. If you think Gabby Sidibe is too black for your readers to handle, then stop pubbing “Precious” like you weren’t uncomfortable at the movies watching it, and find a different model.

I think its great when white dominated publications include ethnic women in their issues. However, when you try to erase the ethnic distinctions, or instead replace a beautiful brown girl with a white girl wearing Naomi’s foundation, then we have a problem. We do appreciate the effort to include us, but we don’t like to be mocked. You messing around with people’s skin tones in photoshop is not cute, and it is offensive. You might as well go and title your articles “white woman in blackface” or “black celebrity whitened to perfection”. Your images are worth those harsh words and many more.

And while on the topic of harsh words, lets talk about the harsh words of men. I remember blogging before about an idiot that tried to hurt my feelings by calling my curly hair nappy, and talking about how flat my chest is. Really? Because Hitler standards are whats in Vogue. Next thing you know, he’s going to tell me that my skin is too brown, and my eyes should be lighter. *cough*gof*ckyourself*cough*.

So Models: be happy with looking like who you do, and fuck those people who want you to be something you’re not. And Men: don’t be gay. Seriously, judging a woman’s appearance sounds really female of you. Grow the f*ck up, and act like you actually appreciate real women of the world.

[Sidebar: If that idiot ever gets an ugly girlfriend, I will never let him live it down. Does that make me wrong?]

Football. And bad commentary.

Football. I love it. I’m slightly obsessed with it. I’ve actually gotten into heated arguments over it with men in bars who try to steer me to liking their punk ass teams.

But my favorite thing is adding bad commentary to the sidelines.

Its not like there already isn’t enough b.s. that you’re hearing from Spartan-hating-Brees-underrating idiots with microphones, but then you have the twitter-talkers (heh, I’m definitely one of them), and the sh*t talkers (that’s me also). You see, being that there are some individuals who have yet to realize that I am tenfold more vicious with commentary and hating than I am during March Madness Bracketology (which I would have won if the Jayhawks didn’t suck so badly), I somehow ended up in two different leagues, and without my Quarterback (Drew Brees) on both teams.

Lets just say I’m still fussing, complaining, and cursing at people.

Outside of the trash talking, I take bad calls and rub them into the faces of the twitter nation, then approach strangers and torment them about how they are stupid for being fans of the Patriots/Vikings/Bills/Jets/anybody other than the Saints and the Steelers. I carry football with me to work, to the library (quietly, that is), on the expressway, everywhere.

Yet…ok, let me stop messing with y’all.

Just know that it’s football season. And that if you’re playing me in fantasy, YOU’RE GOING DOWN.

So I guess I’m back…

…and shit. Which generally means I have more funny stuff to talk about.

Okay. So first and foremost, I have relocated to country ass Indiana. Ok, I admit it’s not that bad, even though the metropolitan area is surrounded by fields of agri-gold. Don’t ask me why I left, being that I don’t really have a clue.

So yea. Being that I knew a total of 5 people in the state, including 2 college friends, and 3 relatives (who I happen to live with), I decided to venture out to the bar scene and make friends. Lets just say, I’ve had some interesting encounters the 3 times I’ve gone out.

First, someone showed me baby pictures. Of himself. God bless him, he’s a sweet guy, but really? At the bar? On your phone? Right….a little odd, at least for where I’m from. We’ve also had the guy who attempted to kiss me in front of his girlfriend (who instead ended up biting me, and drunkenly realizing his girl was in close proximity). Ok, yeah….

Isolated incidents? Maybe. But explain the hot guy in a suit. Yes, sexy, caramel skinned guy in a suit. Fatal flaw: the Zoolander face. Yes, it was like Derek Zoolander was trapped in Vin Diesel’s body.

So not happening....

Like what the hell? I realize I will NOT be dating while I’m here…


So I’ve been MIA for about 50-11 years, and I’ve decided to make a comeback.

Why? Because people are still extremely stupid.

So I have had the pleasure of observing the wonders of idiocy for the past 20+ years here in Michigan to the point where I said “fuck it” and decided that I was leaving. But of course, not before some gems of this past week.

My favorite gem came from last night at the bar. So a friend of mine works the door at a popular bar/nightclub in downtown Ann Arbor. Obviously, this is a college town, so there’s an abundance of fuckery. But lets not get off topic.

This guy comes in around 11pm. The bar doesn’t usually get crowded until about 12-12:30 ish, so it would be pretty hard not to identify him if he decides to leave out. This particular night, he thinks he’s a genius. So he walks in, and flashes his ID. Under 21. The bouncers X his hands, and he heads back. About 20 minutes later, he comes back up to the bouncers with someone else’s ID asking why the bartender keeps refusing his drinks. They tell him he needs a wristband (which denotes the 21+ crowd). Guy goes, “I’m over 21, and you never gave me a wristband, even though I paid and showed you my ID”. My girl asks to see his hands. On them, you can see black smudges where he tried to rub off the X’s. At this point, we’re trying to stifle our ridicule because this guy really thinks we’re dumb enough to fall for this one.

Eventually, he gets sent to the bar owner, and kicked out for the night.

So, moral of the story: some people are just plain stupid.

I would like to thank you Michigan for the amount of laughter you have supplied throughout the years with your idiotic populous and the things that they do.


Now I know what you’re thinking “what the hell does a young 20-something have to say about life that I haven’t already heard?”. And all I can say is probably nothing and everything.

You see, sometimes at the most mundane times in my life, I have these mini-epiphanies where things just click for me. Obviously today is one of those days.

So life – it is what it is. I mean, we spend so much time in our life trying to achieve things. And you have to ask yourself “why is it that I do what I do?”. Do I work this job because I love it, or just to make ends meet? Do I go out of my way and try to make everything enjoyable, or do I complain just to get through the day without feeling as bad on the inside?

The meaning of life isn’t as complicated as it seems. Granted, I don’t know for sure the meaning of life, but what I can say is that we can take it or leave it, and it still is what it is. At the end of the day, you have the same people – you either hate them, love them, or don’t know jack shit about them to make an informed decision. You know you’re judgmental, whether you try or try not to be. You know you going to like what you like, like who you like, do what you do, and have your unique perspective on everything.

So if life is what it is, then why do we try so hard to change someone’s life to be what it will never be, based on that criteria. No, I’m not talking about improving the quality of one’s life. I’m talking about changing a person. After all, you can’t force someone to find a food as delicious if they spit it out the first 50 times because it was disgusting to them. Just like you can’t force someone to not love who they love.

I guess the question stands: why can’t we let life be what it is? Why can’t we just spend the time focusing on our own divine paths instead of interfering with others just because we believe what we believe? Hey, believe what you will…just don’t force your life on me, or anybody else, because you would probably hate it if the shoe was on the other foot.

With all that being said…why can’t we let members of the LGBT community let their lives be what it is? After all, is it really our right to preside and take the control away from our peers because they’re a little queer?

You Know…

…this recession is getting out of hand. I’m actually considering an occupation in entertainment to beat this financial climate.

But yea, I may be MIA a little more than expected due to the extensive amount of new-job-searching, and potential-relocation-research. Also, there happen to be several instances of *bad news* that have taken root into my personal life.

Essentially, I’ll be too preoccupied to post reliably here. You might get a vent.

So, be right back, mini-hiatus (since this is not pleasant enough to be a vacation). Go catch up on House/Glee/Grey’s Anatomy/Desparate Housewives/True Blood (damn, I watch alot of television).


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