An interesting tidbit to an otherwise long dead relationship

this seems to happen a lot: i'm cleaning my apartment and i find another long lost relic from a past lover. sometimes it's a hair tie, sometimes it's a blouse, sometimes it's prescription medicine.

this time it's a list.

i dated this gal for a little over a year. it's been some years ago. i'm convinced she was --  at the very least -- a raging narcissist. she had (has?) all the symptoms. the world revolved around her and no one could tell her otherwise. for the first month or so i knew her she was using a fake name. during the time we were together, she asked me to call her several different names and i had a hard time introducing her to people because i didn't know who she was (or wanted to be) at any given time. i basically stuck around 'cuz i was lonely, somewhat desperate for intimacy... and the sex was fucking awesome.

*note to self: even great sex isn't worth putting up with constant lies and deception.

anyway, at one point when i'd had enough, i finally broke it off with her. when she asked why, i told her and then i came home one day to find a list of things she was going to do to make sure our relationship stayed intact. here is that list (click to enlarge):

sounds good. sure.

fucking laughable now.

last i heard she was duping a whole new world of woebegones.

love? ha.

love can fucking bite me.

Even more proof we think with our dicks

as soon as i snapped this pic from the menu, my buddy who was with me says, "jesus fucking christ, what are you, 13 years old?"

i just stared at him.

for an awkwardly long time.

until he said...

"shit, usually costs me at least dinner and drinks!"

To my kinfolk who continue to harass me about my non-belief

(click on this gif)

sit on it and spin.

(i would be nicer about it, but i've lost my patience with you loony bin delusionoids)

My affair with siddhartha

i read herman hesse's siddhartha the summer after 8th grade... right after discovering that reading could actually be an enjoyable experience. i had finished kafka's metamorphosis earlier in the year, and, having loved every second of it (i've probably read that novella over a hundred times now), a teacher mentioned i might like hesse's take on spirituality.

so i gave it a read.

and i loved it.

there are many reasons why, but first and foremost, it was different. it promoted oneness with the universe -- this big, giant, intangibly tangible thing that i couldn't even begin to wrap my thoughts around -- and it taught the virtues of simplicity, of being "good". being alive.

those are virtues that i hold onto today. i've mentioned it several times, but there is no need for an invisible sky daddy (no matter what name one might assign him, or her, or them) to embody this philosophy.

all one needs to do is be aware. be aware of his surroundings. listen. follow the golden rule.

it really is that simple. no need for blowing people up 'cuz they don't agree with you. no need in forcing one's highfalutin beliefs on others by sanctions or force.

no need to stick one's nose into my business.

i treat others the way i want to be treated. is it really too much to ask others to do the same?

(image via skull swap)

Grandma thinks i'm gay

i'm 32 years old and single. very, very, very fucking single.

i have no plans to settle down and have a family.

i haven't dated anyone seriously for more than a few months in over a decade (well, there was that year long stint with bag-o-crazy, but i checked out early and just stayed on board for the incredible sex) and the way things are going now (or, rather, NOT going), i highly doubt there's gonna be anything to give my elders hope for a future where i pass down the family name.

it doesn't really bother me so much, but it sure bothers my grandma, who thinks i'm gay, because i don't have a girlfriend.

of course, she also thinks that running is going to make me die young, that a sandwich cannot be eaten without mayonnaise and that nothing has been good on television since hee-haw was canceled.

'Sgetti tacos

don't laugh. growin' up i ate plenty of potato chip sandwiches... with ketchup. and my dad's specialty outside of frozen pizzas and mac-n-cheese happened to be fried bologna sandwiches.

yes. they were disgusting. but i ate them anyway, 'cuz i didn't wanna hurt my dad's feelings.

at least he tried, and there are plenty of people out there who would probably love to have a father who tried.

thanks, dad! next time you visit i'll make some 'sgetti tacos for ya!

(image via ihmp)

But i don't have any more clean towels!!!

(via hcibs)

I'll take the sock, please!

(via smbc)

I forgot about these

so i'm playin' cards with my grandma and two of my 80-something great aunts and one of 'em doesn't like that i won a big hand so she calls me an "ornery varmint", which cracked me up. then, just like a kid who likes attention in the form of laughter, she continued to call me a varmint for the rest of the session, knowing it would draw cackles galore and she was right, 'cuz every time laughter ensued.

finally, i ask: "what exactly is a varmint?"

"it's a rat!"

"no, it's a rodent"

"i think it means troublemaker"

and then, my grandma leaves the room, comes back in a hurry, and in her hands is something i haven't seen in years:

a fucking dictionary.

and there, together, we all skimmed the dictionary looking for the answer.

an irritating or obnoxious person or animal

sounds about right.

Easter schmeaster

whenever i get depressed about a bunch of crazy folks celebrating the alleged back-from-the-dead resurrection of jeebus, i just think about this picture.

for most logical people with any semblance of reason and/or intelligence, jeebus, sky daddy, allah or whatevs is only as real as the easter bunny and, more importantly, it is essential that we point out the positives where we can.

(image via ihmp)