148 - Better Than Then

More and more people are using 'then' and 'than' the wrong way around. Now, keep in mind that English was my worst subject in school, when I say YOU PEOPLE ANNOY ME!

So watch this video...

CLICK!

140 - Bulging?!

There's a new show on over here called Bulging Brides. The new thing from the States. They find women who have an upcoming wedding and need to lose some weight. I watched one episode.

It's disgusting.

The woman had a body to be envious of. A size TEN for crying out loud. And they told her she needed to shape up and lose a few inches to make her dress look right. So for six weeks they put her on a diet and a training regime and she lost something like 3 inches off her waist and one off her chest and hips.

I felt like throwing my TV out the window. And I don't mean in a hardcore rocker kind of way.

The girl was just over 150lbs and 5'6 tall. That's NORMAL. That's HEALTHY. And they told her she was chunky and she lost THREE FRICKIN INCHES! I'm all for losing weight to feel or look better but seriously? And they wonder why people have eating disorders!

134 - Lowering The Standards

It's 4am and I can't sleep. My mind is too busy, so I thought I'd let it all out here. I'm guessing this will piss some people off but I don't mean it to. Anyone that reads this (all four of you) will hear it all sooner or later anyway, and I really need to get it off my chest now.

To cut a long story short, my boyfriend started telling me about a night out a long time ago that he referred to as "the best evening ever" because of all the "hot girls". I was fine with the part about partying with transvestites and crazy people with guns. I was even OK with the thought that a bunch of strippers - who happened to be colleagues of his friend's wife - got their tits out to show off their boob jobs.

My curiosity plummeted when his "best evening ever" ended with him getting laid with one of the sluts. I mean, strippers. Wait, what's the difference? Oh, right, one gets paid.

I know every person above the age of, say, 25 has been with a bunch of people in their lives, of course. That's not the issue. We've talked about exes before, extensively, without a hint of resentment.

Let me just add in here that the last few days my confidence and self esteem has been floating somewhere around my ankles.

Now, I know he didn't mean any harm by it and even said he wished he hadn't mentioned it at all (right before he fell asleep... lucky for some) but that doesn't make it easier on my mind. My mind has still drawn a spider diagram in a notebook, with the words "stripper", "laid", "hot girls", my boyfriend's name and the quoted "best evening ever" all circled and joined to each other, and if you turn over the page there I am, connected up with "fat", "inexperienced" and "sorry excuse for a female".

My self-esteem is now ground into the carpet.

I'm taking bets on how long it will be before I can look in the mirror and like or even accept what I see. This morning the running average was two weeks. Now, I'm not so sure.

090 - Resurection

Did you know Blogger keeps your blog for 90 days after you delete it? I didn't. Now I do!

I have to apologise for deleting this this yesterday. Deleting it upset a lot of people, especially my writer friends who made me realise writing is one thing in my life that will never leave and never turn it's back on me. Part of my writing is my blog. So, in a way, my blog is my new dog. You know, dogs... loyal... best friend... Oh, it made sense in my head.

Why did I delete it? Well, someone read my last blog as a direct attack on him, and I'm actually still trying to convince that person that it wasn't. Perhaps I need to highlight the majority of the blog that wasn't about him at all. He didn't drive me to delete this though, oh no. It was his over-protective guard dog that doesn't know her place. She even told me I shouldn't write about things I care about or feel passionately about and accused me of caring more about my blog than about people that it may piss of. Well, some people, perhaps... clearly... but I assure everyone that reads these from an outside perspective that everyone in my blog is fully aware they're in it, most often why they're in it has already been discussed and resolved, and they see it as a general summary of my day. Most people. And generally they know me, or haven't had a few drinks in them at the time.

Oh dear, can you tell I'm still pissed off?

Never make a writer feel that her writing is worthless. It cuts to the bone.

089 - Misery Loves It's Company

I never really understood that song title, because I'm only miserable when I'm by myself... Anyway, it's Friday night and I need to rant, and everyone is busy, so here you go.

All week I'd been planning to hang out with a friend - we'll call him S - and this morning he bailed. This wouldn't normally bother me but this friend really ticked me off a few months ago by bailing on me over and over, and we hit a very rough patch because of it. I knew it was going to happen again today, but there was still a cupful of excitement of getting to hang out and watch a movie, considering I've been pretty much alone and bored all week (no money).

I had another friend - Tiny (remember him?) - who was meant to see me on Wednesday but couldn't, which really didn't bother me then. So my second choice was to see if he was available. And, of course, he wasn't. That's no one's fault. I just wanted to complain a bit about the injustice of timing. He did offer to see me for a short while between work and a music session, but me being the ever-polite happy thing that I am, told him he didn't have to. So he didn't. Which is fine.

My last option was... someone else... and he had a leaving party for one of his workmates that he gave up his Nerd Night to go to. When he heard I was free, he said he'd be done by 9 o'clock, and he could come see me. I told him that he didn't have to if it would be inconvenient. Later, he tells me he's staying on at the party, and that he wasn't planning to. So, I asked him why he was staying if he wasn't planning to and he said "I have nothing else to do." Really? Thanks. I then told him that he could have come over here if he wanted and he said "It's OK, I'll see you tomorrow."

[Insert clenched-teeth smile here.]

The thing is, it got me wondering about what people DON'T give up to see me when I need them. That last person, for example, has only ever given up his Nerd Night (every Friday night) twice in the time that I've known him. One to see his sister, and one for this party of free food and drink. Do I really need to start offering my friends dinner and booze just to get them to come see me? Or will they push me further and further (without realising it, in fairness) until I crack and tell them all to go to hell, eat a bucket of ice cream and watch Supernatural, wondering why all men can't be like the Winchester boys...

073 - Manflu?

Early in the week I found out that the horrible housemate that makes living here unbearable changed his mind and is not moving out after all. So, I'm back to browsing letting websites to find somewhere else for me to live.

Today I thought I found it. I went to see a studio apartment in a beautiful, old abbey in a really nice part of the outer city. It was stunning from the outside. Huge gardens, massive buildings, black iron gates I had to throw my full weight against to get open... you get the idea. The area too is pretty. Full of old buildings and trees everywhere, and you can see the mountains. Inside, the rooms were really huge too. Pretty perfect. Why am I not moving in now? Because it's unfurnished. And I can't afford the furniture.

I tried getting in touch with another place I wanted to view, but didn't hear back until I was half way home. Why was that annoying? Because the place was just a few streets away, and from here it takes an hour and a half to get to the south side of the city. Garrrrrr.

So, I'm going to see that second place tomorrow (Thursday). And I have a cold. Or, rather, a giant throat infection and something that is quickly turning into a flu. I think it might even me manflu, because I can't stop complaining about it.

Oh, and I left my phone charger at my parents. The lovely Matt came to my rescue and bought (as in, volunteered to pick one up and then wouldnt take the money for it) a new one. He also bought me something else - something pretty - that makes him gosh darn awesomesauce, and it made my week a whole lot better.

070 - Teeth

No, not the movie. Don't see that. Or, do, if you want an awkward laugh.

I'm talking about the dental kind, and in particular those people who don't brush their teeth. That annoys me. I mean, how hard is it to brush your teeth for two minutes twice a day?

I don't care if your teeth fall out from rot (which they will eventually) but what does bug me is when people who clearly haven't brushed their teeth talk to me. Or come within two .... three feet of me and mouth-breath. The smell of bad breath is the worst smell in the world. It actually makes me cringe and sometimes makes me feel sick.

Don't think people can't tell, because they can. Or, I can at least. Remember, I have a super sense of smell. Unfortunately. I'm like a frickin werewolf. Oh, and chewing gum doesn't work. It lasts a few minute before the stink of a day or two of food, drink and anything else you've been injesting comes creeping back out of your gob like a vile, acidic monster. Ugh, and don't get me started on Juicy Fruit gum. That stuff smells worse than the breath it's meant to cover up.

Hell, do what I do and brush your teeth before leaving the house, especially in you plan on being all up in someone's personal space. That very much includes sitting next to someone on a bus or trying to sell someone something.

Maybe I like the smell of toothpaste too much, too. Mint is easily in my top 5 smells. Bad breath, top 3 worst ones, next to vomit and poop. It's like bad breath is vomit in gas form.

Eeeeuuuuuuuggggghhhhh

BRUSH YOUR FRICK TEETH, PEOPLE! We're not in the middle ages any more. You have no excuse.

042 - I'm Irish, Too!

Yes, I'm ranting about it again.

'It' being how so many people, namely Americans, boast about being Irish (or Scottish, or German, or whatever else) when their only claim to it is that their great-great-great-great-grandparent was born here.

I've heard the the reasoning that America is such a young country that people go back through generations to find culture and history to live off. I understand that, but at the same time I really don't. At what point do Americans start calling themselves American? How old does a country have to be before people born and raised (and probably have never left) there claim to be of that country's nationality?

You. Are. Not. Irish. Stop pretending to be. Your ancestors my have been Irish, but you are American. K?

Now, I know most of the people reading this are wondering why I'm ranting AGAIN about this. Well, I was watching Wife Swap US, and one of the families were 'Irish'. Shamrocks and clovers all over, (let me just point out that SHAMROCKS (three leaves) are the Irish national plant... CLOVER (four leaves) is not, and they are very different things), framed 'limericks' and 'blessings' (they were the typical gimmicky poems, not one of them a limerick), Irish dancing, music and songs, and... and this is what made the whole thing spark off again... a sign that said 'Fáilte' over one of the doors, which was described by the mother as, "This is an Irish greeting. It's pronounced fayult. It means welcome."

NO!!!! DAMN IT! This is how we KNOW you're not Irish! It does mean welcome, but it's pronounced FALL-CHA! FAAAAALLLLLLLLL-CCHHHHAAAAA!

Fricking fayult. *twitch*

The next American who claims to be Irish and can't even pronounce fáilte, I will stab them. Dead.

039 - Grrrrrrrrrr....

Today's blog was brought to you by a SCREAMING HISSY FIT BECAUSE I HAD A HUGE ESSAY WRITTEN OUT AND STUPID BLOGGER GLITCHED. And now I'm just annoyed. And Blogger can shove my 365 project up it's arse.

-Edit: 09/04/10 (day 040)- I would like to apologise on behalf of my PMS for this outburst.

024 - Smell Of Work

I was reminded yesterday of when my little sister and I were young and we would get a hug off one of our parents. Occasionally - say, if our dad was working in the garden - he would really stink of sweat, and when we would complain he would tell us off because it was 'the smell of work' we were complaining about. Even at the time I was not too convinced of what he was saying.

I've always had a sensitive nose. I'm usually first to notice when the toast is burning or when the dog has had an accident.

Why am I talking about this? Well, between then nasty sweaty guy that sat beside me on the bus, and one of my housemates that doesn't wash very often, and the frequent whiff of people passing on the street... sigh.

I just want to be able to tell people to wash, and to wear deodorant and not be afraid of using too much of it because if they stink there really is no such thing as too much.

If work smells like B.O. I'd rather lazy or plain old unemployed people in my personal space, any day of the week.

020 - Demotion

It's amazing how easily someone can remove you from their lives, where you get demoted from 'good friend' to 'facebook friend' and ultimately be totally removed from their lives in a matter of minutes.

It makes me wonder what kind of person they were in the first place, to kick someone to the kerb over a minor disagreement, and to do it so easily too.

Do I care? Of course. No one likes to be friend-dumped. Am I going to beat myself up about it? No, because lets face it, if they can block me out so easily they weren't much of a friend deep down in the first place, were they?

So here's to real friends, to those that matter.

016 - Alcoholic Dysfunction

"No, thanks, I don't drink."
"What?"
"I don't drink."
"What? At all?!"

*****

I don't drink. Everyone knows I don't drink and most people know why. It's just who I am. Lately though, I've started to wonder if I'm being snobby or just plain sad because I don't drink at all, never really go to pubs unless it's to babysit someone on the booze, and never ever go clubbing.

I've been wondering if people think strange of me because of it, or if I'm wrong to get annoyed or exasperated when people close to me drink too much (please do consider why I don't drink, here).

The only times I've ever considered drinking was when I was very down or depressed or angry with life in general, and I knew if I started drinking because of that it would be a very steep downward slope. I suppose that fear is also a reason I don't drink; the fear that I wont know how or when to stop, like most of my family. And the fear, too, that I'll do something I'd regret. I have little enough willpower sober as it is.

I've always been of the mind that if anyone snubs me for not drinking, "don't knock it til you've tried it", I would say the same thing to them; "Totally sober? Don't knock it..."

On a viewpoint away from my family though, I still can't say I'd drink anyway. I mean, what is so appealing about losing control, losing morals and inhibition, not remembering the night before or remembering and regretting things you've said or done, the hangovers, the fights, the depleting condition of health when you drink regularly. Someone once answered that it's good because you might do things you wouldn't normally do. Isn't that a bad thing though? Usually when I don't want to do or say something I have a very good reason. Why drink and forget that reason, and regret doing whatever it was I didn't want to do in the first place? Someone else told me it's because their friends drink, they drink. Really? What kind of friends can't amuse themselves without getting hammered?

I know I'm rambling, but I've seen a lot of people do a lot of stupid things when drunk - from one guy declaring his love for me, to my own mother throwing boiling water in my face - and I can't see how my life or anyone else's is better when they're sloshed.

006 - Laugh or Cry

"Smoke is never a good thing..."

*****

So, after the hallway adventures of blog 004 I thought I had my fair share of bad luck for at least one week. Well, I was wrong.

Yesterday morning my laptop was 'kind of broken' and easily fixed, but while trying to do this easy fix, 'kind of broken' turned into 'very broken'. Yes, there was smoke. Yes, I did cry (but not until today). And yes, it is going to cost a helluva lot to fix. We're talking about a decision of whether it's worth fixing despite it being only 6 months old, or if I'd be better off buying a new one altogether. The problem with this picture? Yep, you guessed it. I'm BROKE!

In fact, I'm MORE THAN broke. I owe MYSELF money!

Not only that, but my phone is also on it's last legs, and my xbox 360 decided today to not play any xbox 360 games. Classic xbox games? Sure. DVDs? Yup. The games I actually want to play? Uhm... no.

So here I am, needing an excuse to feed to my parents if my friend can't shit miracles and fix my baby, using my roomie's very first laptop (we're talking Windows ME, don't-close-the-lid-or-it'll-snap-off, just-give-it-a-couple-of-minutes kinda thing) to read my emails and update my blog, but not at the same time. Dare I try Facebook?

So, in conclusion, technology hates me. And I hate technology.

But at least I can still blog.

003 - Face Value

"A person is only beautiful when their own beauty is reflecting on to others."

- Tara Grady

*****

It's not usually something I dwell on, but several separate conversations and topics over the last few days have revolved around natural beauty and Hollywood beauty, and what people perceive as a standard of attractiveness.

I've always believed that every single person is beautiful to someone, somewhere. Some people have the kind of face or features or body that turn more heads than not, but those kind of people probably count for about 5% of the population. The rest of us, well, we're beautiful to a more select group of people. At least, that's what I've always thought.

Unfortunately it's obvious that mentality isn't shared by everyone.

I guess you could say this is a blast against the media in general; the people behind the cameras and the magazines, the make-up artists and plastic surgeons. Somewhere along the line in the past 30 years or so the public perception of what is beautiful or ideal - what is or should be attractive to the opposite sex - has changed, and it's still changing.

We are lead to believe that what men want is something women simply cannot deliver. At least, not without sacrificing one's health or genetic make-up.

OK, so not every woman would want to change their face structure or their body to get a man, but what about the women that plaster several layers of make-up on before leaving the house? If we're not expected to change our bodies to look like Megan Fox or Lindsey Lohan, are we expected to at least slap on the war paint? Very few women survive without at least a little bit of make-up, which is something I've always known but only recently started to wonder, why? Is turning your face into a work of art really going to make you more attractive to the opposite sex? Or does it say you're trying too hard? If that's the case, is there such a thing as trying too little? Should women always have some sort of mask, some ounce of falseness, to be beautiful?

If the answer is no, then why are images and ideas that skinny, tanned, toned, pouting young women what men really want?

002 - Twi...uuuugh

*****

Once upon a time, the Twilight series of books were some of my favourite. I read them through once and jumped on the fangirl bandwagon. I was hooked. I was so hooked that when the first movie came out I was more than excited. I went to see it in the cinema three times. I bought the DVD.

Twilight was on TV last night, so I settled down to watch it. I managed about thirty minutes before turning it over.

WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

Where was I and what kind of state of mind was I in when I actually loved this movie, and swooned over the books? I'm not going to go on a rant about why I don't like them any more, because I'm sure anyone that would read this has already heard their fill of negativity. All I will say is that the guy in the video above, Alex Day (aka. Nerimon on youtube - check him out!) makes some very good points, and I prefer watching his short videos about the books than actually reading the books.

Edit: I remember where I was when I first read Twilight. I was in hospital. Maybe I needed somewhere to escape to so badly that I was thankful for Meyer's work... huh...