No One Belongs Here More Than You...

What happens when justice never comes?  Nobody wants to think about the consequences, after they’ve decided an innocent child’s fate based on centuries old, outdated ideas of motherhood.  The mother is always the best parent.  The father is obviously a deadbeat.  The rights of the mother are always in danger and need to be protected, whereas the rights of the father are nonexistent.   They should just tell men that as soon as the ink is dry on the divorce papers, you have no rights to your child anymore.  ”Joint custody” is a joke….and the joke is on you.  Even when your child is beaten to the point of full body bruising, lives in a filthy house, and goes without meals…the mother is still the best option.  You will never be an option. Before child birth, the woman you love will feel like your soul mate.  You’ll even be tempted to marry her.  If you do, that’s your first mistake.  After child birth, all you are is a sperm donor.  If you happen to knock a girl up outside of wedlock, don’t marry her.  And for god’s sake, never put your name on the birth certificate.  Move out of state as soon as possible, and never let her know your whereabouts.  It’s a million times easier than the nightmare you’ll go through when you try to do the right thing. When the woman you think you love becomes a stark raving, psychotic bitch…you’ll regret not taking my advice.  

Nov 18
In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.
Nov 14

In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.

Sometimes the sins you haven’t committed are all you have left to hold onto.
Nov 14

Sometimes the sins you haven’t committed are all you have left to hold onto.

Nov 12

This video reminds me of the mother of a guy I once dated.  She was 5’1, had bleach blonde hair with black roots, and weighed about 90 lbs soaking wet. Her favorite song was Prince’s “Pussy Control”.  She was prone to violent rages, and insisted on smoking pot in the basement while doing laundry.  She threatened to “beat my ass” on one occasion, and referred to me as “the rich girl”.  I was tempted to correct her…”middle class girl” is more accurate, but I was afraid she’d make good on her threats to beat me up.

This guy’s grandmother was a Poison groupie, and claimed to have slept with Bret Michaels “back in the day”. She actually received Xmas cards and birthday cards from the band, which were proudly displayed in her trailer.

My experience with his family was my first up close & personal experience with real poverty.  When we first started dating (fucking, as I was in the middle of ending a long, ugly relationship with someone else) they lived in a tiny shit box of an apartment.   You climbed a tiny, rickety flight of stairs to get to the door.  The kitchen was comically huge in proportion to the rest of the apartment.  His mom slept on a dirty looking futon in their living room, and he slept in a room only big enough for a twin size mattress & a small computer desk.  The bathroom would have been a decent size, if they hadn’t been forced to store all of their clothes in it.  Plaster was chipping from the ceiling, and hairline cracks covered the living room walls.  All of the windows were painted shut, so the smell of their 60lb black Lab was a tad overwhelming.

I got a lot of shit for dating that guy, especially from my jilted ex.  He wasn’t the smartest person ever, but he was a genuinely nice person when we met.  He taught me a lot about not judging a person until you really get to know them.  Seems corny, but until that point I’d lived in my middle class bubble, dating only middle to upper middle class guys.  That summer we dated, I met some really nice people.  I never would have given them the time of day otherwise.  So for that, I’m thankful.

There’s nothing like your father inviting a house full of his girlfriend’s relatives to Thanksgiving to suck all the joy out of the occasion.  Now I’m expected to bake pies, and play gracious hostess.   Please just leave me in the corner with my glass of fruity, unoffensive, cheap as hell wine.    My father says he doesn’t like an “empty house” on Thanksgiving.  Nothing says holiday spirit like equating your daughter, her husband, and your step grandchild to an empty house.  We used to have a house full of actual blood relatives on Thanksgiving…that is, before my father alienated them all by being a complete asshat. I always seem to be being punished in a roundabout way for not giving him the requisite 1.5 grandchildren already.  He started asking me in college if I was pregnant….who the fuck does that???  Seriously. I’ve never understood why people insist on waking up at 6am, and drive themselves completely nuts fixing an artery clogging ode to gluttony.  When I was a kid, I loved the holidays.  I was an only child, and a house full of people was the best thing in the world.  Now that I’m an adult, and realize that most of the other adults hate each other, and would rather be elsewhere, it’s not so fun being stuck in a small space with them all.
Nov 12

There’s nothing like your father inviting a house full of his girlfriend’s relatives to Thanksgiving to suck all the joy out of the occasion.  Now I’m expected to bake pies, and play gracious hostess.   Please just leave me in the corner with my glass of fruity, unoffensive, cheap as hell wine.   

My father says he doesn’t like an “empty house” on Thanksgiving.  Nothing says holiday spirit like equating your daughter, her husband, and your step grandchild to an empty house.  We used to have a house full of actual blood relatives on Thanksgiving…that is, before my father alienated them all by being a complete asshat.

I always seem to be being punished in a roundabout way for not giving him the requisite 1.5 grandchildren already.  He started asking me in college if I was pregnant….who the fuck does that???  Seriously.

I’ve never understood why people insist on waking up at 6am, and drive themselves completely nuts fixing an artery clogging ode to gluttony.  When I was a kid, I loved the holidays.  I was an only child, and a house full of people was the best thing in the world.  Now that I’m an adult, and realize that most of the other adults hate each other, and would rather be elsewhere, it’s not so fun being stuck in a small space with them all.

Nov 12

Lindsey Weir is one of the few tv characters I’ve been able to identify with. The incident that happens from 1:10-1:55 pretty much sums up my high school experience. In my ridiculous attempts at being a bad ass, I always ended up mortifying myself.  

Had I been Lindsey, I would’ve let Jason Segel feel me up outside my own party instead of pining for James Franco.  That’s the only issue I have with the character or the Freaks & Geeks show.

Anyway, I’m almost 28 years old, and I still have no idea how to take a really good hit from a pipe or bong.  Copious amounts of booze make me sleepy.  My only successful attempts at badassery have been “from the waist down” so to speak.  

I’m still a huge geek…the only difference being I wish I could hang with the cool adults. I try not to crave approval I never had in the first place.

Nov 12

I hope those lollipops were sugar free.  It’s all fun + games until someone winds up with a nasty infection.  Obviously this was made for men, as women know you can’t just stick a hershey bar or other sugary confection in your vagina without consequences.

“The smallest feline is a masterpiece.”  -Leonardo da Vinci
Nov 12

“The smallest feline is a masterpiece.”  -Leonardo da Vinci

Nov 12