control.

It's 6:30pm. I've been awake for 14 hours now.

I want to know where people go when you see their vehicles abandoned on the sides of highways. Did they break down and have to leave their car for lack of funds to fix it? Did they become enlightened on environmental crisis and simply parked it to walk instead? Or did they desert their cars because they're dead, whether by their own hands or by someone else.

I was reading last night about mental illnesses on Wikipedia (a.k.a. the holiest of all knowledge on the internet). So far, I've decided that I have dysphoria, emotional isolation, social isolation, anhedonia, ideation and I'm possibly mildly bi-polar. I remind myself, however, that psychology students often get what's known as "psychology students disease" (such a fitting title), a malady that causes would-be shrinks to self-diagnose themselves (and others) based on the things they've been taught. The same happens with medical students - they all suddenly have symptoms of the illnesses that they're learning about. See what I'm saying?

I am supposed to go to a LGBT ball tonight, of which the dress code is strictly white. However, I'm simply not feeling it this evening for 3 reasons:

1. Because I don't look good and tend to stain white clothing, I don't own anything white (minus undergarments). I would have to go out and purchase items to avoid gay boy glares for my fashion faux pas.

2. Tickets are $15, and I'm a cheap bitch.

3. I'm not even gay.

So, in lieu of transvestites and underage drinking, I shall continue my quest for clean linens this evening, joined only by David Bowie, Ian Curtis and their saucy voices. What more could a girl ask for? Swoon!

Nobody knows the shape I'm in.

I'm doing laundry and listening to Joy Division. It's been quite a day.

I used to have a dog, but when I ventured out into the world, she got pawned off onto my sister. This was okay, though, because she's had a better life living with my sister and her family. She developed a tumour in her brain about a year ago, which caused painful seizures that required her to always be under heavy medication.

Today, my sister finally resorted to euthanasia.

And this is how I know that I am not grown up yet. My sister, as hard as a decision as this was to make, knew what she had to do for the betterment of our beloved pet. This is not a decision I could make; this is how I know that my sister is an adult now and that I am still just an adolescent.

Amongst things like dead dogs and impending homelessness, I am now also discovering that only animals like geese will stay with their mate for the entirety of their lifetime, and this is breaking my heart. On some sort of utopian, sun-licked beach in the back room of my Starbucks mind, penguins can stay together for much longer than just a season.

Shitty Implants

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: porn is boring.

Now, this might just be a female thing, but I honestly can't find the entertainment in pornography. It's all the same trash: horny "barely 18" teens getting their cute little brains fucked out by a hairy fat guy who's old enough to be their dad. Girls kissing girls, among other things, and seemingly always "for the first time". Big, silicone boobies wobbling around with collagen-pumped lips to match.

I don't make it a habit to troll porn sites looking for interesting new fodder, but every so often, porn piques my interest and I go huntin'. Every time, I wind up empty handed...literally.

Such is the case not only with the skin industry, but also with major Hollywood flicks, as well. Writers have become seemingly so low on ideas that they have to draw from real life events, dress them up a bit, and then it's "lights, camera, action". I'm not trying to say that Milk (for example) was a bad movie, because neither was Ali or Karla or one of the many other bio pics that have strolled on through your local cinema 10 or Blockbuster. It's like "hey big Hollywood writer, if I want to experience life, I'll go outside and live it."

And the same goes for pornography.

Case closed.

FML.

I feel 30 today.

I was driving home from work just now, and I saw some kids playing in a mud puddle. I want to play in a mud puddle, not work a lame-ass full-time coffee "career", where I get a 9 cent raise every six months. I make espresso based bevvys for ignorant rich people that can't tell the difference between a cappuccino and a latte, and add the word "cafe" to everything.

"I'll have a cafe mocha."

These are the same jerks who give me a toonie for their $1.98 bold roast coffee, and feel like they're doing me a favour by telling me to "keep the change". Thanks a heap, coyote ugly...your two cents is totally going to make the extra mile when it comes time for me to lay down the cash for tuition this fall. Bitchin'...you're the best.

I want to play in a mud puddle. I don't want to worry about being homeless. I don't want to throw more of my things out because keeping them means they won't fit in my car when I have to move again. I don't want to keep hearing that my low wage isn't that bad, considering I get benefits and stock options and free drinks and blah blah blah. Seriously, Starpukes...get off my dick. I could care less about my stock options, because, quite frankly, the stock is always down anyways.

I swear, when it comes to my job, I'm bi-polar. Some days, I love it; other days, I just want to poison everyone. Don't worry...I'm not a safety risk, Howard.

And to lay down the last brick of today's rant: I swear to Jeebus, the next person who whines about being single is getting a face full of fist.

Being single? Not that bad.

Fuckers.

I'm out.

Any Given Wednesday

You'd better sit down because....

I have HIV.

Woah! Wooooooah! April Fool's, man. I caught you again, just like I did last year.

In all seriousness, though...April Fool's day? Where does this even come from? Well, apparently, back in the day, the world followed a different kind of calendar called the Julian calendar. When the world switch over to the Gregorian calendar, anyone still livin' in the J-days was considered an "April Fool". Yet another theory says that the unofficially observed holiday originated in France, where the year started on April 1st, back in the day. When King Charles IX decided that he was God enough to change the start of the year to January 1st, anyone who didn't catch wind of the change was an April fool. Could you imagine that conversation?

"Hey, man! Happy New Year!"

"Uh...it's April 1st today, fool."

"...what?"

And yet another explanation states that in pre-Christian times, the first of May was considered the first day of summer, when signalled the start of the spring planting season. Okay, question...if it's the first of summer, why are you just starting the spring planting? Anyways, anyone who did it ahead of time on April 1st was considered foolish. Now, really, I can think of something much better that the first of May celebrates.

So, where do all these explanations connect to the now tradition of whoopie cushions and mass computer viruses to get a rise out of people?

People just like to be assholes, and look for any legitimate reason to be so.

Next year, I'm going to be less lazy and plan something huge. Exciting!