A-S-S

back in my hey day i lived in an apartment complex that featured a barn like roof which was just the perfect surface for a game called A-S-S. the game required one simple piece of equipment and that was a handball.

the rules were quite simple. throw the ball as hard as you can, or just plain hard, at the wall and do everything in your power to catch it after the bounce. however, if you for any reason touch the ball and fail to catch it you receive a letter. or if you throw it and miss the wall you recieve a letter. quite similar to the idea in H-O-R-S-E. you could play with two people - or ten (choosing to play with ten could prove to be terribly dangerous though as you'll see later on).

the first person to spell out the word ass was then required to stand face first against the brick wall with their back to the rest of the players. every other player was then allowed to throw the ball at the failed player from about 10 or 15 paces away.

what's funny is sometimes for whatever reason you might just lob it over and barely tap them. like the fear alone of being pelted in the back of the neck was enough. other times you said "to hell with 'em" and you fucking hurled that Sky Bounce as hard as you fucking could and with the precision of a sharp shooter and watching even your best friend cringe and hit the ground made you feel light as air as if you just threw a strike, or hit a bulls eye.

A Tribute To The Canine

TOP 5 DOGS IN HISTORY

5. Pluto: Behind every successful mouse there is a strong dog -enough said.

4. Old Yeller: At first this stray was unwanted, but this protective pooch won the love of Coates family and was eventually payed for with a homecooked meal.

3. Lassie: Loving and smart this canine saved the day more than once, and was one little boys best friend.

2. Snoopy: This dynamic dog is a deep intellectual and is a habitual roof top dweller.

1. Balto: Way back in 1925 this heroic dog rescued an entire population when he pulled a sled of medicine nearly one thousand miles.

RUNNER UPS

Scooby-Doo: Along with the gang this ageless pup has been solving tricky supernatural mysteries since the 70's.

Underdog: A rhyming hero and pop culture icon, he was there whenever Sweet Polly Purebread needed him.

Honorable Mentions: Odie, Porkchop, Shiloh, Comet

Food For Thought

i'm a mindless romantic. i believe things should last forever and never sacrifice even an inch of their beauty. like when my friends parents would talk openly about how they were gonna get divorced come summer, i'd cover my ears and refuse to take them seriously. or how this past week i threw my cell phone and it subsequently broke. this is only after Emily told me she got drunk and told her ex-boyfriend that she never loved him.

lately i find this to be my biggest problem. mostly because i refuse to stop believing, and so i fight it. but the cold truth is, i'm fighting nature, and mother nature is not a romantic. come to think of it she's pretty much a heartless bitch who feeds off chance and change. flirting, she is a tease. and i don't fit into mother natures plans, or rather she doesn't fit into mine. and so i'm polished with fury, and sad more than i should be. but i'll play both sides like a carefully tuned piano, and with success. pounding the keys i never knew existed. hard energy produces sounds unconfined by walls and the likes - i'll take a bow and exit stage, but not before the audience calls for an encore. i don't oblige.

now, think about a fly stuck to a fly strip. struggling so unnecessarily.
that's you.

Flushing Out My Childhood

i wish i could still grow 3 inches in a year. and actually make it to a doctor when i'm sick. someone tells me "i haven't seen you since you were a baby", i smile and act polite - no hard feelings. when did it end?

spray myself with the hose then jump in the pool. ride in the way back of my moms station wagon and harass all other motorists. carefree and mischievous. death was for suckers, and risk was never evaluated.

this is what revisiting kool-aid will do to you =/

Pizza Parlay

i got pizza today, and i was the only one in the place. my own solitude seems to stalk me relentlessly. but then a man walked in. after receiving his pizza he walked up to me and asked if he could sit with me. there were at least 10 other empty tables and i had my back to him the entire time so i was kind of surprised. i barely lifted my head, but mumbled back "yeah, sure". after he sat down he wasted no time and asked me "what's the matter". i told him i didn't know. he said that was a lie because everyone knows, then i started to cry. consumed by my own grief, i would soon find myself enveloped in his.

he looked guilty and worried but stared into my eyes and told me he was sorry and that he didn't mean to upset me. i told him it wasn't his fault. he did a half-grunt type of laugh and told me that his wife said that when she left him several years ago, he seemed to have lost track of them all. he told me that he hadn't seen his daughter since she was 11 years old, and that he didn't know why but i reminded him of her, or at least what he remembered. i wondered to myself why his wife had left him. he was in his late forties and he seemed to be sharing a lot with a total stranger. i thought he shouldn't mind me since i'm such a wreck, but at the risk of sounding anti-social i held back. as i was finishing up he asked if he could give me his number, i told him that would be fine but that i'd never call. he said that's okay by him. and i had only taken one or two steps away from him and towards the door when it occurred to me what i was doing. so i turned around and asked him "this won't add to your misery will it?". then he answered me looking out the window at the passing strangers, their lives so intangible just feet away, with "what misery?", finally his eyes were back locked in with mine when he winked. i walked out.

Last Day At The Opera

what if there was something that reaches past the ordinary mediocre grand scheme of love.
it's a vapor that hinders causing any clarity i had to disappear.
the reaching seems special with results that break the life between two people.
i've yet to prove it despite the evidence mounting on your every word.
all i hear is lies.
it's backlash from the way we took to get here.

and now i want to let it all go,
cause nothing goes back. the origin is over,
the only scar i have from you's the love within my heart -
a constant reminder of my diminished sense of smart

I Think I Can

i feel like flash flooding, whatever that means. i feel like an organ being rejected by a body. when i ran up the stairs today, out of penn station, i wanted to keep on running. the deliberate and passionless nature of school, the tube, pals, drunk, sleep, driving, eat, single ladies dance, work, oil changes, bumming cigarette, and wasteful spending have trapped me. i feel like that parachute exercise in early education gym class, it's slowly coming over me, and when it finally does i can't get out. what i need to do is start a fire under that parachute to lift it up off of me, that way i can quickly run out.

this woman i watch on the train always wore black, and today she threw me a curve ball and showed up in peddle pushers (the nerve), a white blouse, and a light green blazer. spring is too early, i'm not ready for it. i crave the weather excuse for not leaving the house, now it's just another thing working against me. between me and you, i almost cried. i can't put my finger on exactly why but it's something between the proof she wore that spring is here with her on board and the static nature of myself.

maybe someone could read me The Little Engine That Could
but then i remember what shel silverstein said so poetically "If the track is tough and the hill is rough, THINKING you can just ain't enough!"

so i need a match, and a sack to place the pieces i'm picking up.

Nip It In The Bud

i was looking down at the hole in the crotch of my pants and all i can think is nip it in the bud meghan, before it gets any worse. i already had to get the other side of the inseam patched up when it formed a hole that i could fit my leg through. i'd show you a picture of these pants that i wear everyday, but i'd rather just leave it up to your imagination which will probably render it far less worse than it actually is.

i should throw them out, there's no doubt. i just can't let go. i love these pants even though they're fallen apart and aren't nearly as great as they once were. more importantly they're comfortable, i love the way they feel. what's wrong with me? they were used when i got them. and now they're just pathetic. these pants are like an open wound i constantly wear. i have no shame, you think i could find some?

thankfully summer is close, i'll have to start wearing shorts. fall comes up quickly though, i could get sucked right back in to the black corduroy pants.

i'm constantly mistaking liabilities for assets.

Faceless Memories

when i don't see someone for a bit i slowly forget what they look like. its the first step in a fading memory of someone. it's like when a tv program gets cancelled, and at first it's all so fresh - but after a while you can't even remember the shows name, maybe a few plots and the theme song if you're lucky. i have too many faceless memories of people. i might remember a certain feature, turning my memory into something along the lines of "fat and big ears" or "bushy eyebrows and pointy nose". i never imagine it happening to anyone, them turning into this faceless memory. i can't comprehend how after i saw someone everyday for years within months they can fall out and become diluted, failed memories. memories that end up straining you to recall the precious details that make up a persons facial structure. and maybe you can look at a photograph, but it's not yours to have at your beck and call, waiting for you to need it, so it can be displayed and you can move on without that empty dry feeling on the other side. the one that yells disappointment. that hurt that lets you know that person is gone, if not in reality then in your god damn memory where you needed them to stay and wait for you to call on them.

An Open Letter To Apple

i have a bone to pick with apple. i might be to blame, but i'm going to bank on it being the mega giant corporations fault, and i'll lay it out for you. i entered into this relationship with apple never once thinking it could end up being a bad relationship. one where apple takes what it can get and i get nothing, except a hole burnt in my pocket, and apple precedent that you just can't shake.

i bought my first mp3 player at the tender age of 15, it was the size of walkman and it had a whopping thirty gigs of memory. i didn't choose the flashy ipod, with it's super white face and mirrored back, it's token "wheel" - instead i opted for a Creative brand mp3 that sported nothing great except an hundred dollar price difference. the screen resembled that of a beepers and was digital like an alarm clock. i ended up leaving it on a park bench, and never saw it again. my next mp3 player was an iRiver, i don't even know how i remembered this so i just googled it to make sure, but i LOVED it. it had an fm radio, a voice recorder, and you could view pictures. LOST.

my next mp3 player was where i made the biggest mistake of my life. the ipod shuffle is the gateway mp3 into the apple universe. i opened pandoras box. i got my first generation ipod shuffle for my high school graduation, it was the white one that came with the lanyard. it had no screen. i was strictly about the music then. i thought we would be together forever. i felt like those silhouettes on the commercials, dancing with my ipod swinging around my neck. unfortunately this broke and was replaced with the 2nd generation ipod shuffle that we all know today, it was orange and yeah it's a clip. goodbye fun lanyard. but i was still happy, it was lightweight and held it's charge endlessly. and it was durable so i could be reckless with it.

i eventually gave it away when a friend gave me a spare nano she had. it was 8 gigabytes, and i was aching to fill that shit up. this ipod opened my eyes to the wonders of album artwork, and scrolling. i was brought back to storing photos, and making playlists. life was wonderful. i could never again sport a non-apple mp3 player. when i had some extra money lying around and i saw all these people with itouches, i began to wonder what i could do with one of those magnificent pieces of apple art. i didn't wonder too long, and about 1 month later i purchased a previously used first generation 16gb itouch off ebay. when it arrived it was love at first sight. i spent hours on end during the summer perfecting my itunes so my itouch would be flawless - which it is.

a couple days ago my itouch stopped producing sound in the left earphone. it will cost me at least $250 bucks to replace this, and according to the apple website just as much to fix it. thankfully the government's got my back on this one and recently sent me a little check. i also have an opportunity at the 2nd generation itouch with its ever attractive speaker. and if next month they slap a camera on the 3rd generation itouch i'll just die. cause i'll be in mp3 limbo with a great ipod, but not quite top of the line. and that's just not acceptable anymore because apple has molded me to recognize the best and yearn for it. dammit.

Weathering The Storm

me and my friend mo sat in my car parked in my driveway. she told me the left side of my house looked more fall-ish, and the right side looked more spring-ish. mo was in the drivers seat, wearing a long sleeve dark gray shirt looking at home with her fall-ish backdrop. and i with a yellow softball tee looking rather dapper and ready to jump out on the spring side of the house. it's funny how the weather affects us, me and mo. we were just two people moving at a different pace, but reaching towards the same goal, summer. all that aside, i enjoy mo's company. we share alot of common beliefs, like getting high a lot and not trying too hard. she'd probably be pissed that i said that. i bet in her opinion we try really hard and have overcome "obstacles"-meh. but the real bottom line is she can put up with my antics like no other. like when i call her place of employment drunk and knowingly force a restaurant wide announcement calling her to the phone, eventually causing mo to think the unthinkable: there was a death. haha my sister said no wonder she wasn't pissed, she was relieved no one died. or how when she would incessantly ask me to stop slamming her car door, and no matter how hard i tried to remember not to forget i would. and don't' get me wrong, she isn't exactly mother theresa so she'd be pissed, but mo would still put up with it uhhh i mean me. i also piss her off when i sit at stop signs for too long, or don't go at green lights because i don't feel ready. i know it bothers her so i try not to.

also, my sister is extremely paranoid i'm going to start blogging about her. so folks, just a mere second ago her toothpicks fell and she fell to the floor after them and screamed "not my toothpicks, let us just pretend this didn't happen" and then becoming aware of the situation and me at the computer she looked up all nervous and added "oh please don't blog about this". she's 23 and 2 months with extra baggage, get at me if you want the digits. woop woop.

p.s. thats a picture of mo i obamaized.

"The Time Has Come" The Walrus Said

so, a black cat crossed my path. it was the first time that's happened.
and then i almost hit an orange cat driving. i've been feeling, well, shitty. so i went out an bought a leather camel at 15 bucks from the flea market, it's from india. it's hard to imagine a camel looking valiant and strong, rather than feeble and boring. i for some reason think this camel is going to pull me out of this slump. i purchased it for that particular reason. it's senseless i know, but isn't everything that's comfortable. camels are a lot like llamas, physically anyway.

and another thing. in the process of ridding persons/places/and things from my personal life something just a bit short of amazing happened. because you know how in this dangerous age of technological rule anytime you go to delete something the bot on the other side, in an act that eerily resembles sovereignty protection, will produce a window that will pop up just after you click to delete the unwanted gigabytes asking you "Are you SURE you want to delete this?". it's like a last minute attempt at creating all these do or die thoughts within you. the second guessing usually begins. am i sure? does this text message actually contain pertinent information i will at some point need in the future? hahah, but to cut to the chase if i may, i went to delete something from my phone and i didn't actually want to, but i needed to yanno and as for the part where the bot has absolutely no faith in my ability to click the correct button, it didn't happen. there was no is-this-your-final-answer moment. but i guess it was, for now.

Today's Hate Is Tomorrow's Date: A Downward Spiral

i am so self destructive, and i pick myself apart at every corner. especially when i'm looking around for you.
oh my god - this pain, how did it get so bad? not such a while ago things were pretty and i could look at the day and smile. i found the little promises to help stabilize my moods. sometimes i'd even help myself. i only got headaches when i couldn't sleep. i could act interested in current news without a trace of hatred and anger boiling and turning within me. the type of anger that doesn't even have direction. i feel my fists, the tension. they're so tight.
i'd like to skip this all and get to the blissful shit that's surely waiting for me. plus i don't know where to go from here. you dont' think it left without me? i am so frightened, i'd give up if it didn't sound so fucking terrible. i'd settle, but only if i had to and it was asked of me. i'd still resist. you don't know me, i'm shaking my head.

and there has to be something missing. i don't know what, but it's gone. probably walked out on me along with every other rustic inch of my heart, and it's angst and all it belongs to. i'm the most useless piece of an instrumental union. i'm nothing more than fear. my scope is lessened by the hour and all i see is bitter rivals i once knew tearing up the soil and planting new seeds that a storm wind carried forward. the future is the product of a minute, or less. and i'm in it. can you please kill me? i just sighed when i shouldn't have. i exhale and it's all done with. another flowering cloud that won't turn up. maybe it's the heat because it's certainly not me.

[LIST OF XMAS SONGS THAT CAN BE ENJOYED OUT OF SEASON]
for e.

1. George Michael - This Christmas

2. Mariah Carey - All I Want For Christmas

3. Fall Out Boy - Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

4. Madonna - Santa Baby

5. John Lennon - So This Is Christmas

Legit Questions Before Noon

[LEGITIMATE QUESTIONS]

1. is it possible nowadays to use a pay phone and not look shady?

2. was that a cough or a sneeze?

3. why would anybody eat the bruises on a banana?

4. is it bad that when i look at my unopened extra playstation controller it makes me feel lonely?

A Lyre

haven't you ever felt so broken you just wanted to disappear?
or so lonely you wanna throw the towel in?
could happiness become extinct , or just die out?
you know what's weird? when i was really happy, like genuinely happy, i wanted to die because i figured what are the chances i'll die happy yanno.
i looked coldly into the eyes of friend/co-worker and told her happiness is a lie. and the sad part was i believed it, for at least that second. i have, through the workings of life decided that's the lie. i think i wanted to believe it because that would have meant i'm not a total failure - yet. it could have meant i might keep things lax for a while, and stopped feeling that pressure - which has for better or worse, become my motivation. so now that i've regained my stance on happiness what am i to do?

keep looking for it.

happiness is a 9 letter word. and it's the truth.

Sticks & Stones

i love sad stories. i make my friends tell me theirs over and over again. they never get old to me, and each friend has one in particular that i love. here is brittneys, and i wont change her name and not because i'm insensitive (i am), but because girlfriend don't care.

i'm gonna take you back many years ago, when brittney was still innocent and pure. when she thought the sun was the other side of the moon and still believed her parents to be in love. before hard work and verbal banter from colleagues and family about her smoking habit, and the rather melancholy mood that follows.

she was a small elementary school student, and with that said happiness was easy to come by. she had gotten a book from the school library, but while she had it out something terrible happened. soda got spilled on the book, and it was completely ruined. a few days later and with no other choice, the then pathetic third grader that brittney was took the book back to the library apologized and received a small lecture. she felt much relief because at 8 years old nothing could be more stressful.

the next year (and the next and the next and the next until her moving up ceremony in 5th grade) during the library orientation speech the librarian began describing that students must take care of their books when they're out of the library, because surely it's a privilege to be allowed to do so. she spoke about not bending the bindings, and not folding the corners of the pages, and when she got to the part about being careful around liquids she reached below the podium and pulled out the copy of the book that brittney had ruined the year earlier. she showed it off as the "what not to do" example. brittney hung her head down, remembering the embarrassment, nervous that someone else might know besides the librarian. this was the first time a mistake would come back to haunt her. she will be the "what not to do" example a couple more times.

happy april fools day.

In Love, I Fell

my memory of you, it was this time last year - i fell in love with you, somewhere between going to your house and the drinking. you would cook hot dogs in the microwave and tell me i could never be fat. i got restless sleeping on the floor, hiding under covers chilled, and i left before the dawn. this was before i lost our solidarity.

after, i wake up now in the middle of sleeping and all i feel is an emptiness. kind of like what you told me about when what's her face left.

and when with you by chris brown comes on the radio i feel his villains, but mostly my own.

A Spectacle

rip jade goody (1981-2009)

not that i ever watched her for a second on tv (i heard she's a real pisser though), but i'm an avid perezhilton.com reader and when i first saw her all bald and looking like death my infatuation began. the one where i spent many minutes of the day wondering, not if, but when she's gonna die. and met with the possibility of a miracle, while beautiful, wasn't the happy ending i wanted. terminal is the word i fell in love with. it meant the end, and i was gonna have a front row seat as goody (respectably, if possible) whored herself out to the media. god bless you girl. today though i could finally relax, because goody passed away yesterday.

i would raise a glass to jade goody for working those muthafuckin media folk like no one before or after will!

but in closing i'd like to say i do feel a deep sadness for her small children, and husband. goody was a representation of reality tv. she earned her living off it, even in death. now her kids can have some financial flexibility. someone faking compassion might object that this isn't what's important right now but, but in reality it is. and the reality of life is death so who better to document it than goody.

Looking Older All The Time, Feeling Younger In My Mind

oh man.

last night i'm with my two friends who work with small children. one is swim instructor and one is a elementary school student teacher. as we're relaxing i suddenly feel myself far removed from the conversation as it turns it's attention towards "their" kids (both of them have become very possesive, you'd think they carried all 30 somewhat kids for 9 months - yack). but they say the kids are just terrible sometimes and especially if they're in bunches and without a strong authoritative figure. they're running all over so fast, zipping right by you, kickballs flying everywhere, screaming, yelling, and the whole nine yards.

and i don't hear another word they say because in my head i'm doing a comparison between the kids just described, and this kid - me. i wondered why a 20 year old like myself felt as if i was just described. i thought about when i was 10, and how that was 10 long years ago, and i asked myself what has changed. i still feel the same chaos around me and i still feel small. although currently i am college student, i was drinking a beer, my car was parked out front, i hold a part time job...are these just our ways of faking it? these are supposed to be the things that make me older? and then i looked down and i was worried because i was wearing the same sneaker i wore when i was 10. of course they are different colors, maybe a little bit bigger in size, but the same model none the less. they are adidas sambas in case you cared, a good shoe design that has obviously withstood the test of time.

but will i?

"Her Cycle Leaked"

i work at a dry cleaners and i mean people always think like "ew you touch peoples dirty clothes", and for the most part no. you'd be crazy to think that people bring in dirty clothes to get clean, these are borderline clean clothes. sometimes folded. okay so there is the occasional cat piss, cat puke, cat whatever - and you can tell all your cat loving friends that preach about how clean cats are that the majority of animal related stains are from cats - but you just hold the corner and try not to breathe through your nose, no big deal. and i think mothballs are an acquired scent, if you will.

the phone rings at the cleaners, i pick up. on the other line is a young girl looking for my manager, i can tell she's in a pickle. she is very hesitant on the phone and for at least 30 seconds all i heard was sighs and heavy breathing, until she finally says she has a customer with a stain on her pants. just getting that out of her took forever. after i had to twist her arm to hear why the hell she's calling she tells me "this customers cycle leaked and she doesn't want a man to see it so we're gonna send it over in a separate bag with a note for Cindy". did i really just hear that? what a fucked up choice of words...her "cycle leaked". i wanted to tell her it sounded like a personal problem. but at the same time if your "cycle" wasn't leaking wouldn't that be bad? i kinda think leak is a word reserved for plumbing issues. and the second part about not wanting a man to see it...like whaaaaaaaaat the hell, only one woman works at my job and if you think shes gonna like hand wash your period stains out and not be totally repulsed you've lost it...or probably never had it to begin with.

after all this at the end of our conversation she asks me to repeat it all back to her. so i say "you got pants with a period stain you're gonna send them over separately". she then sighs for what seems like forever and says "never mind i'll just call Cindy in the morning".

run away, run away

i think about running away soon. i would cross state lines, go by a different name, and pick up solitaire. i wouldn't make any friends because i wouldn't talk to a soul. i'd resort to pick pocketing and black market sales in the beginning. i'd scour the streets with my head down looking for cigarette butts and complain about big brother and the welfare state. all my despair would reach the surface and start spilling over. i'd make it a point to get drunk everyday before noon, and if someone asked me how i was i'd snap back that i'm better than them. i'd triumph over the enslaved bourgeoisie with my self-reliant tendencies. i'd then find work as a store clerk and with that i'd rediscover the weekly paycheck. i would then take my earnings down to the closest theater and i'd see a movie. i would go alone and i'd be more than happy to do it.

i wouldn't wonder how i could feel so lonely, for once i'd know.

when i was re-released back into my old stomping grounds i'd notice everything was just as i had left it. and i'd slowly slink back to my old ways. several years later i'd struggle trying to recount the time i left life.

The Vernal Equinox

i was just on my way back to class waiting to cross the street when this cute little old lady next to me remarked what a disgusting day it was. i nodded my head but just told her nicer weather was on the cusp and spring would be here soon. and then i felt weird because i was being all optimistic, and lets just say i haven't worn that face in a while.

and then i had another thought. spring might see the end of that little old lady.

and then i had another thought. wouldn't a t-shirt reading "my grandma died and all i got was this shirt" be really funny? or should i seek professional help?

Once You Pop!

for me it's really the little things that i witness that get me through the day. i was at starbucks the other day preparing for an exam later in the day when i saw someone bringing their bicycle in. everything about it was normal at first glance. i always stare at bikes because i've kinda always hung onto this small pipe dream that one day in the future i'll be a premiere cyclist. anyway, when i looked over at the place on the frame where you hold your water bottle there was no water there, in it's place was a container of pringles. which by the way fit perfectly in the spot making it feel like a norm, almost like every other cyclist on the road carries that can of pringles when they're trekking uphill and need a boost of energy. anyway after i saw it i couldn't stop smiling for minutes.

and the last time that happened was a couple months back when i got off the train and i was trying to stare at somebody, but without them noticing so i was keeping my head stationary and just moving my eyes. of course about 2 seconds into this maneuver i walked right into a giant pillar. which WOAH brings me to something else: PUSSYFOOTED [meaning stealty or cautiously walking], which apprently i am not...i had never heard the word up until yesterday but my sister says it is frequented in rap songs.

i guess what i'm trying to say is if you see pringles where water should be, let your guard down and smile.

Another One Bites The Dust

people will let you down is what you hear all the time. it really doesn't matter though because it's still always a shock when it happens.

today i found out that this 65 year old man was trying to sabotage me, making room for him to get back hours where we work. my heart sunk when i heard the news. even though he knows not a word of english we've been working together for over four years and i thought our relationship to be a good one. he would always help me out with the work to be done and i would share lunches with him. however, more recently as the economy seems to get worse everyday my boss has had to cut his hours. thus forcing me to do his job because the business has slowed so considerably i've had a lot of free time on my hands. since i have to stay until 7pm to help customers and close the store it made sense for me to take over his job that way he could go home. i mean yes it sucks obviously he is losing money and hours but isn't it better than losing your job? and i mean to put my job in jeopardy by constructing fake errors within my work is an act fueled by greed. i'm downright flabbergasted and altogether hurt. it really is a dog eat dog world. [sigh].

Buyer Beware: Granny Exploitation

vending machines are a wonderful tool for society. they cut out that real life merchant middle man that nobody wants to look at or deal with. plus all the selections are so evenly spaced and at a good height for viewing, making snack selection easier than at your local 7-11 where all the candy looks like the men or woman aboard a triangle trade slave ship. this is totally irrelevant but just to show you how far the vending machine industry has come you can look to my college, CUNY Baruch, where the "healthy" snacks are labeled so with a green plastic front piece around the first spiral of the coil.

wait, now it seems as if i'm tooting the horn of the vending machine. there are a few downsides that i'll touch upon extremely briefly. sometimes they eat your money and no one within 25 miles can help you or ever get your money back. the selection is very finite and can range in quality from great to terrible. also, its like a ancient form of torture when they decide they're not taking bills.

that was all just me on a tangent, hope you found my opinions interesting. i should have put a note in the first paragraph that read "jump down to paragraph 4 if you have no interest in my feelings on vending machines".

here is how the vending machine fits into everything. just days ago i was fooled by some clever trickery's. i'm a BIG fan of oatmeal raisen cookies. i just love raisens, you could cover one in molasses call it a moose track and i'd probably love it. so when i went to vending machine and saw two soft oatmeal raisen cookies packaged together in plastic with a nice wholesome granny on the front i knew i had made my selection. problem is the cookies sucked. they were bland and tasted nothing like the cookies the lady on the cover of the package would have whipped up. i was just disappointed in myself for falling into the grandma trap because had anything else been on the cover i would have played it safe and opted for the puffed cheese doodles.

[Insert Billy Joel River Of Dreams Lyrics Here]

last night i went to bed early, and lately i find myself asleep before 11pm. it's not like i'm tucked in, i've just been passing out when i don't even want to. i wouldn't even mind except usually before i go to sleep i'll prepare for the next day by charging my electronics, setting out my clothes and checking that certain necessities (keys, headphones, hw, etc.) are all packed away where they need to be. i don't leave myself much time in the morning and i get anxiety if i think i'm gonna be late or unprepared for school.

so, when i woke up in the middle of the night and looked to the left where i had envisioned my red hat to be i slipped into a bit of a panic when it wasn't there. at first i just shuffled the covers around and checked the usual places. as the panic elevated i began to feel a heightened sense of insecurity, but i keep good tabs on that hat so i knew it had to be home. after looking in virtually every possible place i grabbed my keys, threw on my black hoodie and sneakers and went outside to check my car. as i walked back to my house empty handed and dejected i realized the severity of the situation. here i was outside at 2am in the freezing cold snow, on the verge of tears, ready to collapse, searching for a hat that hasn't done much for me lately. i knew i was in trouble as i stared up into the sky because i'm not much of a believer and i didn't really expect an answer, but i asked anyway - why do i feel like i just lost my best friend?

oh yeah, i did.

i went back inside, more somber than before but still just a little more accepting of the situation - maybe the hat was better off without me. i guess i woke my mom up in the ruckus. when she came out of her room i asked if she'd seen the hat, i told her it was lost. moms especially always seem to know where m.i.a. belongings are, and mine is no different. although from prior circumstances i've concluded it's usually because she rifles through my crap and puts it back where she pleases. anyway, she said no, and probably aware of my hysteria headed right into the bathroom without any further word. i went back into my room and turned the light on, i figured i wasn't gonna be able to fall back asleep now. then i looked at the bed again, i moved it out from against the wall, and there on the dusty floor lay my hat. it amazed me that it had strayed so far from me in the course of mere hours while i was helpless and asleep. i understood though that sometimes when you least expect it you lose something. not that you wanted to lose it, not that you stopped holding it any tighter, but because it wanted to get lost. i felt betrayed by the hat, but was still relatively happy to have it back.

Dandruff: The Silent Social Killer

i can count the number of friends i have on one hand. its not too tough a situation and it makes christmas shopping a breeze. i've had my theories on why i have a limited number of friends, and mostly i blame my social anxiety disorder, which i believe in fact roots from my moms moms mom (my great-grandmother, rip). lately though i've been exploring other options, and if you take away the fact that i'm a hypocrite, a drunk, a liar, and a sarcastic jerk i'm left with one thing: dandruff.

i used to treat my dandruff with a two in one shampoo i'm sure most are familiar with, head and shoulders. but i stopped because who am i trying to impress? you see how this could end up a vicious cycle, which i think it has..do i have to feel the repercussions of my rapidly maturing scalp skin cells? a normal persons don't mature until a full month, while mine are maturing in 2-5 days in most cases. and i wear black without the blue dammit. and i'm thinking that my dandruff probably could go under the radar except i don't like the idea of the dead skin just sitting on my scalp so in the middle of class i'll scratch my head real fast. and the dandruff flies. and maybe i'd care, or even be embarrassed, except i don't know these people, so who cares what they think? so suddenly i'm wondering if i fill out a personal ad do i include the dandruff, or do i try and hide it and eventually cure it before my new friend ever realizes. its a toss up. because i mean what if i have some crazy strand of dandruff that is resistant to treatments. and when i go to the doctor and they ask - is dandruff a pre-existing medical condition? dandruff could be the unsung social-life killer.

anyway in my dandruff research i found this very interesting web-site listing celebrities with dandruff. and while it might be nice to be in the company of johnny depp, john lennon, elvis, and (ew) tyra banks (which i don't even believe because i bet she wears a wig, and hell if her wig has dandruff that's just foul), it is even NICER to be in the company of .::drum roll please::. MISS FRANCE 1999! woo hooo. so screw it, the verdict: sensitive scalp seeks stable single.

Feed The Children, Save Yourself

my sister tells me about this girl at her job, let us call her misty. misty is severely obese. now as someone who isn't obese at all i'm just going out on a limb here to say one would think it was in the best interest of a fat person to try and eat less to try and prevent the health risks associated with obesity. not to mention it's just plain disgusting being incredibly fat and it suggests character flaws like laziness and a lack of self-control. but no fat people don't care, they just accept their fatness for what it is. you've seen that t-shirt "i'm in shape, round is a shape".

but back to misty. my sister works at a day care and all the children are assigned cubbies where they can keep their coats, backpacks, and most importantly for the purposes of this story, their lunches. a decent human being, except in the case of dire starvation, would probably consider stealing snacks from the lunches of children to be cruel. not misty. she gets famished, or even remotely hungry and no food is safe from her scarfing it down. the oreos promised to a 3 year old are devoured by a woman who could probably live off the fat from her ass alone for a whole month.

what is wrong with fat people? and i hate when people relate overeating to smoking cigarettes and drinking in excess and shit. its not the same at all. fat people have a poor self image and are mean because they're so miserable with themselves.

yeah i was picked on by a fat kid in junior high. so what.

The Heart Not On My Sleeve

last night before i fell asleep i was thinking about my heart, not the one that belongs to an ex-lover, but the tangible one that's sitting in my chest cavity, beating, and working to sustain my life. i have no control over this, it is completely involuntary (although i've read people can meditate and slow their heart rate down to like two beats per minute - i'm not one of those buddhist monks though, and dear reader i doubt you are either) and even though i've known this for quite sometime i was surprised because life is really very voluntary, especially for those with access to a gun, a piece of rope, a plastic bag, a train, a knife, a plethora of pills, a car and garage, or a tall building with roof access. and while the ease of suicide is depressing - paired with the fact we can so easily slip into a bout of sadness with lingering suicidal thoughts, the fact of the matter becoming even more depressing - i found myself rather optimistic about life because lying in my bed, alone for the first time in nights, i knew that tomorrow i'd wake up and go out there and my heart would already be beating for me!