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2001-02-21

Bitter

My mood this morning is the antithesis of yesterday�s lovely sense of serenity. Alright. Ever just feel like being cranky? No particular reason, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, as soon as the carrot of drama is dangled in your face by the stick of frustration, there are no other options. Seize it. And fuck the world after that. It all started innocently enough. I didn�t want to get out of bed. I refused to believe the buzzer of my alarm, the routine scratching, meowing and general mayhem of my pre-fed cats. The only reason I left my soft, forgiving pillow, was because I had to pee like a queen. As I stubbed my toe over the knocked-over laundry basket (thank you, kitties), I both cursed and thanked my body-clock.

Alright. We�re up. And quite bitter because of it. I woke up later than I wanted to, on a day when I had planned more morning chores than any other day, ever. Simultaneously applying lipstick and gathering trash for the dumpster, routine maid-service for spoiled animals, I realized I was actually making pretty good time. When I chucked the trash bag, the dumpster lid fell hard on my hand, and my curse echoed in the empty air, no one around, okay, nobody saw, it�s not that bad. Time to put oil in the car. Hey look! No funnel, I�m doing great, what�s this? Surprise sneeze, oil all over the fucking engine. Okay, I can handle this (bright and cheery neighbors walk to their cars around me, filing in and out, too ready for the same old shit � I hate them). I wave hello and smile to the people appearing all around me, universal time for work, time to get up and on with the day.

In the car, to the gas station. I must have been rolling my eyes the entire two-second drive, because when I pulled into place, it took me a moment to focus my vision. Angry at the day (morning), misanthropic, hell, hating everything. I�m pumping the gas and muttering under my breath. I notice the digital words, �Replace Nozzle When Finished�. Yeah, no shit, fuck-ass. What else am I gonna do with it, don�t trust women with a long-phallic nozzle, hmm? Think we all need a good �pumping�? Fuck, maybe that�s exactly what I need right now.

I went on and on, one-sided discourse with an inanimate object, until my tank could drink no more. Turned my head slightly to the left, and noticed an older gentleman, pumping his own car. I turned just in time to catch him snapping his head back the other way; he�s within earshot. Now everything seems absurd. I feel like laughing and punching him at the same time. Just for the fuck of it.

I made it into work. It�s not even 9:30 am. You know, this may be oxymoronic (yeah, I�m making up words, but you get me), but it feels nice to be pissed sometimes. It�s amazingly empowering. I don�t give a shit about anything right now. The world is retarded and I�m on the fast-track, all people annoy me and I don�t feel like apologizing for anything. I didn�t say it was �right�. Just �nice�. You have no responsibility when you don�t give a shit. Yeah, it sucks for the world at large, but hell, at this point, in MY mind, the whole fucking WORLD sucks. See? There�s just no way to lose.

It�s a good thing I have meditation tonight. Else I�d be going somewhere public, somewhere I could order a drink, sit alone, and mentally tear apart every poor schmoe who had the bad luck to encounter me. And when approached by any daring passerby for time, for talk, for anything, I could practice my ruthless repartee and only hope that they either get my sarcasm and find the humor in it all, or, if they don�t, that they won�t cry when their brain bleeds trying to figure me out.

-Barbarella

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2007-05-19
NEW SITE!!!!

2007-05-16
Links and Update

2007-05-09
Two Links

2007-05-06
Yes, Even MORE new pictures

2007-05-06
Mizz Asshole

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Bitter 2001-02-21 14:30:50 My mood this morning is the antithesis of yesterday�s lovely sense of serenity. Alright. Ever just feel like being cranky? No particular reason, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, as soon as the carrot of drama is dangled in your face by the stick of frustration, there are no other options. Seize it. And fuck the world after that. It all started innocently enough. I didn�t want to get out of bed. I refused to believe the buzzer of my alarm, the routine scratching, meowing and general mayhem of my pre-fed cats. The only reason I left my soft, forgiving pillow, was because I had to pee like a queen. As I stubbed my toe over the knocked-over laundry basket (thank you, kitties), I both cursed and thanked my body-clock.

Alright. We�re up. And quite bitter because of it. I woke up later than I wanted to, on a day when I had planned more morning chores than any other day, ever. Simultaneously applying lipstick and gathering trash for the dumpster, routine maid-service for spoiled animals, I realized I was actually making pretty good time. When I chucked the trash bag, the dumpster lid fell hard on my hand, and my curse echoed in the empty air, no one around, okay, nobody saw, it�s not that bad. Time to put oil in the car. Hey look! No funnel, I�m doing great, what�s this? Surprise sneeze, oil all over the fucking engine. Okay, I can handle this (bright and cheery neighbors walk to their cars around me, filing in and out, too ready for the same old shit � I hate them). I wave hello and smile to the people appearing all around me, universal time for work, time to get up and on with the day.

In the car, to the gas station. I must have been rolling my eyes the entire two-second drive, because when I pulled into place, it took me a moment to focus my vision. Angry at the day (morning), misanthropic, hell, hating everything. I�m pumping the gas and muttering under my breath. I notice the digital words, �Replace Nozzle When Finished�. Yeah, no shit, fuck-ass. What else am I gonna do with it, don�t trust women with a long-phallic nozzle, hmm? Think we all need a good �pumping�? Fuck, maybe that�s exactly what I need right now.

I went on and on, one-sided discourse with an inanimate object, until my tank could drink no more. Turned my head slightly to the left, and noticed an older gentleman, pumping his own car. I turned just in time to catch him snapping his head back the other way; he�s within earshot. Now everything seems absurd. I feel like laughing and punching him at the same time. Just for the fuck of it.

I made it into work. It�s not even 9:30 am. You know, this may be oxymoronic (yeah, I�m making up words, but you get me), but it feels nice to be pissed sometimes. It�s amazingly empowering. I don�t give a shit about anything right now. The world is retarded and I�m on the fast-track, all people annoy me and I don�t feel like apologizing for anything. I didn�t say it was �right�. Just �nice�. You have no responsibility when you don�t give a shit. Yeah, it sucks for the world at large, but hell, at this point, in MY mind, the whole fucking WORLD sucks. See? There�s just no way to lose.

It�s a good thing I have meditation tonight. Else I�d be going somewhere public, somewhere I could order a drink, sit alone, and mentally tear apart every poor schmoe who had the bad luck to encounter me. And when approached by any daring passerby for time, for talk, for anything, I could practice my ruthless repartee and only hope that they either get my sarcasm and find the humor in it all, or, if they don�t, that they won�t cry when their brain bleeds trying to figure me out.