018: har har har

I have decided that I'll use my tumblr account for other purposes, and this one shall be used for blogging important matters and whatever shit comes to mind.
Right now, I find myself lacking that type of shit, as usual. So I'll just go ahead and rant about whatever I can find in the deep confines of my brain, if I have one.
My mother is out, so I'm in the house alone. My boyfriend called earlier than usual, and woke me up 2 hours earlier than I was supposed to. I went right ahead and took my DS and started playing Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. As the hours passed, the light on my DS went red, and as I was about to plug it in, I began thinking about god-knows-what, distracted myself and touched the metal part of the plug just as I plugged it in, and there you go. Electric shock. Not very pleasant. And it's not the first time either.
I remember when I was about 5 or 6 years old, I did the exact same thing, only that time, I stood for about 3 minutes with a blank face staring into space wondering what the fuck had just happened. Then I just started crying and sobbing. Wimp.
I should be studying, but I'm not, as usual. No surprise though. Last time I studied was.. what? 2 weeks ago for a Political Science test which I failed anyway. Stupid teacher. I swear she's the fucking antichrist. No, I'm not quoting Donnie Darko. I'm dropping out of that class. In fact, I already did. That woman looked like she could be the sweetest granny ever, or at least that's what she made us believe on the first day. I even thought she would bring homemade brownies and cookies to class. That's how sweet she looked.
And now I have to cook. That's dandy.

MOVED

Moved my blog.
Now located here:
http://cherryxwaves.tumblr.com

017. se jo-dio

I'm staring at the screen again like a retard, hoping I get enough inspiration and my life is reaching a shitty point on which I can write something worth reading, like a rant.
10 minutes have passed and I'm still here, waiting for something to strike me.
Boys. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em...
Actually I do think we can live without them, LESBIANS FOR EVERYONE!
There goes reproduction.
Men probably have the same opinion on us women, but I think they are the most complicated beings in the universe. They never know what they want, and when they do, it's always something stupid and meaningless, and most of the time, sex and porn. But I'm not here to talk about men's unfulfilled sexual impulses (I'll leave that for some other day), I'm here to talk about their ignorance on feelings and their insensitive responses to such.
I will state, forehand, that I do not think all men are like this, just 99.99 % of them are. The rest 0.01 % are out there hiding from nice girls like me, have a bitchy girlfriend, or are homosexual.... or gay (Homosexual is a word too fancy for me). The rest of them are retards with a black hole for a heart.
So, this 99.99 % of dudes just want to get in your pants, and when they're done they just leave. This is something I will never understand. Why have sex with a bunch of random girls with herpes and aids when you can settle with one girl and carry out the same deed? Is there really so much variety in vaginas out there, that you just HAVE to try them all?
"Gotta catch 'em all!" - Pokemon
Women aren't like Pokemon, and I'm sure most guys are disappointed by this.
The sweet guys are mostly scared (or so I'm told) of getting hurt and such, and then they lie a lot and leave us girls hanging and wondering what the fuck is wrong with them, or the other variant, what the fuck is wrong with US. Then we wallow in self despair crying in a corner sucking our thumb while rocking back and forth in a fetal position. I've always thought that, if a relationship is going to make you suffer, then don't have one at all, cause it's not worth your tears or suffering. Tell him to go fuck himself with a loaf of bread. He'll come around eventually.
I was talking to a friend yesterday, who asked me what qualities I like in a guy, which got me thinking. And I realized.... I AM VERY FUCKING PICKY. And not in physical sense, mostly in personality. I believe you should be with a person for who they are, not what the look like. But if he looks good, then HEY, I'm not gonna complain. Cause there is no point in being with someone who has the perfect personality but his image doesn't appeal to you, and you don't want to be anywhere near him. Like he's at your house and you're both sitting on the couch but you're at one end of the couch trying to be as far away from him as possible and shielding your eyes with a pillow because your eyes bleed every time you look at him. Yeah, that's comfy.
Point is, we shouldn't be TOO picky. Cause then you'll end up never finding someone with all those bunch of qualities you want, because no one is fucking perfect. Picture yourself still living alone at 50 with a bunch of cats to keep you company. That's how you end up if you close yourself off.
And you don't want to be a crazy cat lady/man.

016. que os-pe-ra

I got positive responses to my last blog post, and this prompted me to write one more. I just hope this one promotes as many laughs as the last one.
I decided my blog posts should have witty tittles in spanish. So sue me.
So, I like music. I LOVE music.
Only yesterday I found out how much power and influence music has over my life.
Moment of frustration? Be prepared to see me with my big-ass old school headphones moshing and singing at the top of my lungs. Not a pretty sight, I assure you.
I have often considered hanging myself from the ceiling fan or jumping into my toilet when I'm depressed or I feel bad, but apparently my friends don't think those are viable options.
So, I have to resort to music to make me go on a mental trip similar to those you get when you stick a Sharpie up your nose and leave it there for 10 minutes. And let me tell you, it actually works for me (the music, not the sharpies).
Problems with boys? Screw it! I'ma blast some Korn and Slipknot on my pre-historic headphones until I'm deaf and I don't feel my earlobes anymore. I'll deal with my hearing problems later.
Random person: "How are you?"
Me: "Eh?!"
Person: "I said, How are you?"
Me: "What? What language are you speaking to meeee?"
Awesome, eh? I love imagining my future like that. Anyways, that's beside the point.
Point is, we all have at least ONE thing that helps us cope when we feel like a sack of dung. Be it music (like me), painting, creative writing, creative farting, puking on a canvas and calling it art, whatever. We should take advantage of that opportunity every time we want to slit our wrists like whiny emos. Scars are ugly, period.
When I was in middle school, drawing was my way out. And believe me, I drew some pretty disturbing shit back then.
Friend: "What the fuck is that? A kite?"
Me: "No you dickwad, it's a bleeding heart".
So, let's not waste energy on negative thoughts. If you feel bad, take a walk, or take your dog for a walk and watch him as he takes a dump in your neighbor's front yard. That should be interesting. Specially if you hate your neighbor.

015. tre-men-do

Here I am, yet again. After a long hiatus (sort of). And as I was really fucking bored, a friend suggested I should blog. Everytime I decide to blog something, I get a writers block.
See? Like right now. I've been staring at the screen for a good 5 minutes without knowing what to write. Maybe I'm not made for this shit. lol
I've been thinking about how crappy this summer has been. I don't think I've ever had such a shitty vacation in my whole life. I swear, I'm gonna be claustrophobic when I get out of here to go to college.
"THE WALLLLLLSSSSS!!!!"
I can see it now...
Basically, I've just gone out the house to go the movies occasionally, sometimes a restaurant. As you might already know I'm underage and I still live with my mom. She had her uterus removed a few years ago, so you can imagine how menopausic she has been since then. Point is, she's gotten very paranoid with this whole piggy flu thing. And now I'm stuck in the house almost eternally until classes start at my campus. And even then, I think she'll send me off to college with 20 bottles of anti-bacterial liquid, a mask, and a replacement mask. She's always so thoughtful....... AND ANNOYING.
And so, I've spent my summer in front of the computer WITH NOTHING TO DO, listening to music and talking to people on MSN. Brilliant, I know, bloody brilliant. I deserve a prize for having such an interesting summer, god damn it.
OH. To make it even more interesting, my mother had the crap-tastic idea to hire some construction workers to go and re-do the front of the house. You can't imagine the horrible noise I have to hear EVERY FUCKING DAY of the week from 7 am to 2 pm. There goes my plan of sleeping till late.
I don't really get it. They start hammering God-knows-what in the front of the house and it sounds like they are on top of my fucking room hammering something into the roof. I swear I'll end up hiring a hitman to kill them in their sleep.
I think I have ranted enough.
I'm off.
Stay awesome.