I'm looking for love

What is wrong with me?

2007-11-13T18:04:26Z

I mean, besides the obvious?

I have a terrible tendency to over-think and over-analyze every decision in my life. Every decision. I can't decide what the long-term ramifications of my choosing swiss or provolone for my sandwich at lunch are, let alone make some life-altering decision under normal conditions. I fear change, because it means I'll have to make decisions about my position in the new order of things. At the same time, I hate it when other people make decisions because I usually think they're wrong, and then I have to make decisions based upon their original faulty one.

It's not that I'm not capable of determining the right from the wrong, the left from the right, and the colors from the whites. But it is at what temperature to wash those colors, and what detergent to use, and what will happen six months from now if I machine wash these jeans instead of dry cleaning them that I just don't know. How will my decision affect others? Will I hurt someone with my choice? What about the rain forest, and child labor, and the economy? What about my friendships? And potential romances? Am I going to be alone forever???

Ain't metaphor grand? Anyways, imagery aside; I don't know what I want in any given situation, ever. And it makes me sad, because it means I can't and don't do a lot of things that I think would honestly be fine, but which have a .1% chance of going catastrophically wrong. And in my defense, things in my life have a tendency to lean toward that .1% category. But still, I miss out on things, and avoid situations, and relationships, and opportunities because I don't want to hurt anyone; and because I don't honestly know what I want.

It's a delicate tight-rope I walk, trying to maintain a life that never changes in order to keep myself safe. But then things change, and people change, and needs change, and I'm no longer safe in my little cocoon of flirtation, cuteness, and sweetness. I change things without trying, then don't know what to do when the dust settles.

Boy, I am just full of symbolism today.

Home, biznaches!

2007-09-01T06:50:42Z

I'm pretty sure "biznaches" is a word. Like, almost positive.

Hey kids, I'm home!! I know, I'm excited too. So far I've been chillin' and trying to get back into the flow of things. My internal clock is still all 'effed up, but I'm really glad to be home. I've seen some people already, and am looking forward to seeing more soon.

Spain was good, but the trip was both too long and too short. Too short to actually become fluent in Spanish, and too long to be away from home. I'm glad I went, but I'm also really glad to be home. I still have another year of Spanish in school, so I won't be in much danger of losing all the ground I've gained anytime soon. If you want to hear more about Spain just stay tuned, I'm going to create a whole timeline/photo collage type thing as soon as I can care enough to get the energy together.

Anyways, I just wanted to let you all know I'm still alive, and that I'm still madly in love with you all. Call me or message me to tell me how much you missed me!

Te amo!
Angela

Vanilla Ice

2007-06-13T09:41:36Z

Vanilla Ice's "Under Pressure" just started playing on my iTunes, and I am endlessly amused by this fact.

Oh, xkcd. You know me so well.

Sucking my soul out

2007-06-09T09:39:57Z

Ok kids, seriously. I am an English major. School is not supposed to be this hard. It's not like I don't already speak English, and everything. Why are they making such a big deal about all of this? I keep paying them and paying them, but the classes don't seem to be getting any easier. Maybe they don't understand that the $20,000 I give them a year is supposed to be a bribe.

I really have no interest in being any more educated than I already am. I'm good. I've got my genius IQ and some street smarts. Shouldn't that be enough? I would really like that to be enough. I'm already wildly over educated. Stupid American education system. But that's a rant for another day.

How are you, kids? Did you miss me? Were you worried I found a pretty asian boy and ran away with him into the sunset forever and always, looking for my happily ever after? No such luck, on either of our ends. I am still here, slogging though my life. Let me give you a quick update on the life and times:

Was sick for a month. Went to the doctor 3 times, and didn't get antibiotics until I had already been sick for 4 weeks. I love modern medicine.
Had a fever dream involving the Ghost of Christmas past, and kissing a boy who shall remain nameless. Well, let's just call him Fitzhugh. I've always wanted to meet someone named Fitzhugh. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
I have been celibate so long I am turning into a nun. Pretty soon I'm going to have to start wearing a habit and shaving my head. Clean living sucks.
On the plus side, when my Dr tried to tell me I had mono I was more than justified in laughing in his face.
On the not so plus side I am turing into the most boring person ever.
I lost some friends. And that makes me sad.
I've been able to spend more time with some really cool and worthy people. And that makes me happy.
I leave for Spain very very soon. If you want to confess your love to me you better hurry up.

Ok, that's it for now, kids. I promise to give a really long, silly post before my trip. Also, I'm gonna give details about my trip next time, ok? ok.

Love you!

Growing up

2007-05-15T04:07:40Z

Talking to your ex-boyfriends is never a good idea. Making friends with your ex-boyfriends is an even worse idea. Especially when you're me. I mean, come on, after I break up with them, these boys are so shattered and heartbroken they can't even see straight. Who wouldn't be? Anyways, you're only young once, so it's best to learn these lessons now, right?

So, being the genius that I am, I friended one of my ex-boyfriends on MySpace. MySpace, being the evil bitch that it is, arranged it so that he not only friended me back, but send me a message. Apparently he wanted me to "IM him sometime." And, again, being the genius that I am, I did.

There is a whole story I could tell you about what happened - about how he pretended to be friends with me, hooked up with me, then told me to fuck myself - but I think I'll skip all that and get to the part I think is interesting. While telling me to fuck myself, he also told me I needed to "grow up."

Me? Grow up? Why? I'm so charming and innocent. Why would you want to force my childish nature into a boring grown up state? Yes, I still believe in goodness, and fairy tales, and frog-princes. I still hope for love at first sight, passed notes in class, and a spring time wedding. I sing in the shower, talk to my girlfriends about my crushes, and write in my diary about the boys I "like-like." I sleep with stuffed animals, call my father "Daddy," and I love the color pink. So?

What's wrong with being a little childish? Why is hoping for the best and believing everyone can be friends a bad thing? I think hugs are the best medicine, and love can conquer all. Does this somehow make me unfit? I think it makes me better than the cynics.

And yes. I, myself, am a cynic. I hate people in general, and curse the universe on a daily basis. But I don't actually hate anyone, and I always wake up in a good mood, no matter how I went to sleep. And what is so wrong with that?

I had a bad day

2007-04-29T09:45:57Z

Be thankful I just deleted a really long, emo post.

Major theme: I'm tired of being alone.
Major issue: I'm retarded.
Major Tom: Ground Control.

xoxox
Angela

Relationshit

2007-04-22T08:52:07Z

Someone recently said to me, completely matter of factly, that I did not seem like a relationship person.

This struck me as odd, seeing as how I just got out of a hugely committed, long-term relationship, which I was constantly pushing to become more serious. It furthermore stuck me as odd because this guy had just jokingly asked me to be his girlfriend. Since it was a joke I said "no," but had it been a serious question I don't actually know what my answer would have been.

I like having someone to be attached to. I like being the person that someone likes better than anyone else in the world. I don't like sleeping with people who are sleeping with someone else. I like the excited feeling you get in your stomach when someone you like calls you. I like having someone who knows that when my tummy hurts I don't like it to be touched, and that my feet are always cold.

But do I like relationships?

In my experience, the time before the relationship begins is always the most fun. The excited, nervous part, where you both like each other, but there's still uncertainty. She chooses her hairdo, makeup and clothes with extreme care, he opens doors for her. You flirt. Fooling around is a little forbidden, so it's more exciting. You can still flirt with other people, but usually only for fun, and to make the other person jealous, and therefore, want you more. You don't have the absurd expectations of constantly communicating and receiving permission for everything. There is no soul-crushing guilt. You talk, but only because you want to; you're together, but not because you have to be. You're free, but only as long as you want to be.

I used to tell Moritz that I wished we could go back to when we were just dating. I tried to do that after the break up. Unfortunately, sometimes the relationship part of a relationship kills the fun of actually being with someone.

I think that the ideal situation is to simply be with someone. No unnecessary strings, no unreasonable demands. I think what I would really like is to simply have someone I could be with when we both wanted it, and not have to be with when we didn't. The only real rule would be no sex with other people. Other than that, just be yourself, do what you want. You could go on for years like this. Hell, you could be married and be like this. The important thing is to keep the expectations reasonable, have faith, and just be with the person because you want to be.

At least that's what I think.

How i lost my virginity, and other stories to make you uncomfortable

2007-04-20T20:36:00Z

Little girls dream about the first time they "make love" from even before the time they know what sex is. It is almost always imagined as a well-planned, romantic event, taking place after a night full of candlelit dinners, dancing, flowers, champagne, and magic. He is always caring and thoughtful, and you are always madly in love with him, and will be forever and always. There is no fear or pain, only sunshine and happiness. You know he is the one and you give your body to him willingly and with great joy and anticipation.

I lost my virginity by accident.

We had been dating for about a month, and we had talked about having sex, but had never actually done it. He was much more experienced than I was, and I was both anxious to have it over, and apprehensive about my abilities and performance. We had decided to wait a while longer, until the time felt more right. Then one day we were fooling around and (supposedly) something slipped, and I was no longer a virgin.

"Oops," he said.
"Um, ok," I said.
"I'll get a condom," he said.

Afterwards we went out to get food, and he ended up forgetting his wallet, so I had to pay.

We ended up dating for another three years, and had sex many more times. We had sex at his parents house, my parents house, at the movies, on a bus, in a public bathroom, at a park, in my car, in his car, at two different elementary schools, in Vegas, in my parents bed, with my roommate in the room, and at every party we ever went to. He came in every orifice, and on every inch of my skin. He tied me up, cursed me, hurt me, loved me and cursed me. But, I swear in the name of all that is holy, that is my favorite sex story. That was the day I lost my virginity by mistake.

Same old story

2007-04-20T10:50:56Z

For those of you who have known me a while this is an old story. But STFU and read it again.

I am a goldfish

I am a goldfish. And let me tell you, you people are freaking disgusting.

I am tired of sitting on this little table over here in the corner, ok? I have 2 options here. Stare at the wall or watch you people live your disgusting lives. After 3 years of this crap I'm thinking it woulda been better to stare at that wall some more.

Do you people just not realize you're not the only people in the room? I mean honestly, am I friggin' invisible here?! I KNOW you know I'm here, cause every once in a while one of you gets off your lazy ass and throws some shitty, dry food in my bowl. Who the crap decided fish like dry, weird, disgusting smelling little flakes, huh? Whose brilliant idea was that? Don't you think I'd appreciate a little variety too? I mean, come on guys. Maybe taco Tuesdays? Mix it up and make me some meatloaf every once in a while. Don't I deserve a grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup on a rainy day just like anyone else?

But maybe that's too much to ask of you people. I mean, if you don't even clean my bowl except once every year when you host your friggin' Super Bowl party and you're worried about what people think about how your house looks I don't know why I'd expect any real consideration for my dietary needs. Why you care what this pit looks like anyway, I don't know. It's not like your supposed "friends" (which just means a bunch of other lard asses who come for the free food and to watch football on your obscenely large television) don't grind handfuls of chips into the upholstery and carpet and spill beer on every surface they can find. I swear, if one more drunken "sports enthusiast" comes up to my bowl and starts tapping on it and saying "Hi little fishy! Fishy want some Amstel Light?" I am going to lose it. No I do not want an Amstel Light, jack ass. Give me a frigging Guinness or some Gin, but get that pansy 'Light beer' outta my freakin' face, ok?

Oh, and the sex on the couch thing has got to stop. You people are hard enough to look at clothed and dry, let alone naked and humping each other and sweating all over the place. Get a friggin' room. Or at least pick another one. I have to LIVE in here, you know. I'd rather I didn't have to do it with images of the two of you writing around burned into my brain. And you leave the place reeking, by the way. She might smell good to you, buddy, but let me tell you, at least our females smell like fish BEFORE not AFTER our mating rituals.

And hey, don't let me make it sound like it's all bad, I mean, sure, you've decided that directly in front of a gigantic quadraphonic speaker was the best place for me to live. And I have to deal with your frigging cat who for some reason has decided that I would be a really tasty snack (again, I would question your choice in pet foods). And sure you've got a 3 year old running around who likes to knock my table over on at least a weekly basis, but what's a little asphyxiation between friends eh? And sure, when you think no ones watching, you totally let fly some of the most disgusting farts I have ever dared to imagine. But hell, that's not so bad right?

But let me tell you, pal, I refuse to watch anymore reality TV. You friggin' tune into another episode of Survivor, The Bachelor, or Girls Having Sex With Aliens for Money again and I am going to jump onto the carpet and flop my dying body behind the TV so that you'll have to live with the stench of my decaying corpse until the day you move out of this hellhole. And I'm going to kill the cat too. Don't believe me? I have a plan.

You bastards have no idea who you're dealing with here! You have no clue, ok??! I coulda been a contender! You're all under the false impression that YOU are the masters here, but you're wrong! I am the master! I am *cough* I am *cough cough* I'm gonna get you. *cough cough hack hack cough* I'm the….*death*

"Oh, no, honey. The fish is dead!" "Oh, damn. That's a shame. Well, he was kinda old for a goldfish." "Oh honey, That's so sad. I hope he didn't feel any pain." "No, dear. I'm sure he didn't. And at least he had a happy life."

Indecent exposure

2007-04-05T22:17:31Z

Since I have now shared with you my own personal underwear preferences, let me now share with you a story in which they feature greatly.

As I have said, my favorite pair of panties is no panties at all. I am a big fan of going commando, but for whatever reason this is not what they boys find attractive. Apparently boys like thongs. Why? I don't know. I have an amazing ass and why you'd want to torture it like that is beyond me. It's not going to want to be your friend if you're mean to it. Forcing it into awkward and uncomfortable situations is not the way to make friends. If the goal is to see as much of my ass as possible then why not just not wear panties at all? Is it the appeal of tricking me into doing something horrible and uncomfortable in the name of being sexy? Cause, I promise, I do many other, more uncomfortable things in the pursuit of that cause. But, all that aside, I have never been one to deny my fans, and so I own a wide variety of thongs.

I have thongs of ever size, shape, color, and denomination. I have pink thongs, blue thongs, clear thongs, radioactively glowing thongs. I have thongs with ribbons, thongs with bows, thongs with glitter, and thongs that magically disappear. I have big thongs, little thongs, thongs with minimum coverage, thongs with maximum coverage, and thongs so tiny they don't even exist. On the day in question I was wearing the last kind.

It was a warm, sunny day, and I was visiting with my friend George in downtown Santa Cruz. We were preparing to get into his car so he could drive me home, when all of a sudden I heard a terrible sound. It seems my pants, tired of the guilt of keeping my ass from the rest of the world, committed suicide. We're talking major rippage. Waistband to thigh rippage. And what with my tiny, tiny panties situation I was now at arrestable offense level. Now, I could not simply tell George about my indecent exposure and laugh it off like, "ha ha, a humorous situation has arisen," because A, I suspect he is in love with me, and B, he would then ask to see the offending rip and the sight of my perfect, amazing ass without the proper protection has been known to cause blindness. So I kept it a terrible secret.

How, you may ask, does one keep a foot long rip in one's pants a terrible secret? Well, I'll tell ya, it's tricky. First you have to come up with a brilliant plan to take the long sleeve shirt you're wearing and tie it around your waist. The you realize that you're wearing a short sleeved shirt over it and curse your good fashion sense. Then you come up with another brilliant plan to complain that your hot, then do a totally awkward "taking one shirt off without flashing the entire world" dance in the front seat of a moving vehicle. The dance can take anywhere from 3 to 30 minutes, depending on how flat chested you were in high school, and how much practice you got taking off your clothes without really taking them off. You may look stupid, but not as stupid as you'll look if you get out of a car with a mysterious rip all down the back of your pants. Then wrap the shirt around your waist, and pray to whatever gods you pray to that there's no breeze when you get out of the car.

That's called talent, kids.

Boxers or briefs?

2007-04-01T03:10:45Z

There are a variety of underwear choices for the young, sexually active female these days. (I say sexually active because if you're not getting any why the fuck would you submit yourself to the horror of a thong?) There are bikinis, tangas, boyshorts, g-strings, v-strings, thongs, and the ever popular granny panties, just to name a few. Since I know you're all constantly thinking about my ass and what is covering it (and how little is being covered) I would like to take this moment to declare my underwear preferences, and to explain my choices to you. There may be some disagreement among you, but just hear me out, and I promise to answer questions at the end of the program.

My ass, as I'm sure you all know, if perfect. It is amazing. Some have called it the 8th wonder of the world. Others have called it nirvana. I myself call it Ophelia (say it out loud). But no matter what you call it the fact remains that it is perfect, and so the choice of panty is very important. I, myself, prefer no underwear what so ever, but since that is not what the topic is today, I will declare my preference here and now for boyshorts.

Boyshorts allow for enough coverage that if your pants rip open (which mine have done, in order to better share my ass with the world) you don't have to be concerned about being arrested, but little enough coverage that you still get to see a good amount of my perfect, amazing ass. Boyshorts come in an amazing array of colors and fabrics, allowing you to choose the pair perfect for you, but are also sexy no matter what.

Now, if you are not blessed with a perfect, amazing, awe inspiring ass then boyshorts are probably not for you. If you have a flat ass you might as well just put on a pair of boxers. If you are assily challenged then I feel for you, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Even if you have no ass to fill out a well made pair of panties, you can always wear a thong. Thongs are always a crowd pleaser, and if you have no ass it will give the allusion of an ass as there is no shape to fill out with a thong. Yes they may be horribly uncomfortable, and possibly dangerous to your health, but if you were not blessed with the amazing genes I was then you've got to work a little harder to keep up.

Be sure to tune in next week for my 2 part special on the best position to give a blowjob in.

Old eyes

2007-03-11T08:57:00Z

I'm an old soul, with a young body. Death does not scare me, but immortality does. God is love, but where is love? Why does it hide? I'm tired of playing games. Tricks are for kids. Silly rabbit.

My knuckles drag on the ground, but I stand up tall. My skin is pure as snow, my eyes as dark as pitch. I have sympathy for the devil, but what if God was one of us? Did you ever notice we only capitalize God? People have selective capitalization. I wish I were a faith healer, or at least could be healed of my lack of faith.

I believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, but do they believe in me? Will they support me and my choices? Will they come to my soccer games? Tell me they love me, even when I lose? My mothers love was not enough, will my Fathers be?

Faith is frightening. It cannot be touched, it cannot be held on to. And yet we grip so tightly. Can you still hold my hand, if you're holding God's too? Mine is very small, I'm sure it will fit inside yours. I sleep under the desert rose, and it touches my dreams and guides my soul.

Is having faith enough, or does it have to be your faith? I believe. I believe in the heart, and I believe in it's ability to love. And I believe that God is in the heart. When it beats, that is God. When it breaks, that is God. And when it is full of love, that is God too. That is my faith, and the faith that God has given me. I am bound by love.

Bound by Love
--Gran Bel Fisher

Tip toeing along the line
Just in case you're not fine
I'll give in to your needs
'Cause that just might be what you need

Even though it's unknown
Where the two of us will go
And what darkness we'll have to see through

'Cause I'm bound by love
And I'm thinking of what could be
Where there's a will there's a way
So will you come out and play with me, with me

For every tear that's caused by me
I'll give you space but you'll know where I'll be
Waiting just to dry your eyes
It's so easy to find our way back once we try

Even though it's unknown
Where the two of us will go
And what darkness we'll have to see through

'Cause I'm bound by love
And I'm thinking of what could be
Where there's a will there's a way
So will you come out and play with me, with me

The motion of emotion
Is the flow I fear
And the whispers of the future now keep
Drawing me near, keep drawing me near

'Cause I'm bound by love
And I'm thinking of what could be
Where there's a will there's a way
So will you come out and play with me, with me, oh

'Cause I'm bound by love
And I'm thinking of what could be
Where there's a will there's a way
So will you come out and play with me, with me, yeah
With me, with me, oh

"It's a blustery day," said Winnie the Pooh.

2007-03-07T09:26:34Z

Dear The Internet,

I made a new friend. I like making new friends because it's a new beginning with a fresh start. That person doesn't know any of your bad qualities yet, and likes you just for a brief glimpse of your personality he or she has gathered in a very short period. They don't know about your jealousies, your weird eating habits, your fear of strangers - they only know the good things that you've chosen to show them. It's not a lie, or dishonest, it's just the best impression of you, and that's a nice thing to be able to show someone.

When I meet new people it makes me think. I think about all the people who are in my life that were new at some point, but now have been exposed to all the chaos and reality of real life, and who have made the choice to stay or to leave depending on their own personalities. People like Crystal, who have been there basically from the beginning, and know all of the bad (and all of the good) and have decided that I'm worth it; and people like Moritz, who have decided I'm not. It's interesting to reflect back on these people to when they, themselves, were new people I was writing about in my journal, and pondering about what was in store. How I felt the same sort of excitement, the same fluttering in my stomach, the same anticipation of fun and titillation (+5 vocab points) of hanging out again.

My father once bought me a book called "How to Win Friends & Influence People" (because my parents both think I'm socially retarded) and told me that if I followed the guidelines in the book I would make more friends. Honestly, how lame do I have to be to need a book to make friends? Also, does this say something about the nerdiness of my father? Perhaps it's genetic. Anyways, Dad bought me this book, and I read it, but I don't think it won me any friends. And I'm really ok with that. I prefer to have good, solid friends than simply a multitude. The people who were there for me during the break up, the friends who listened to me even when I was crying and screaming, these are the people I don't need a book to tell me are worth caring about. Because of them I'm ready to move on with my life, and I'm finally hopeful about the future again. And I may be a nerd, but I didn't learn that in a book.

This post is a little more reflective and serious than usual, and I apologize for that. I promise I'll write another funny post by the end of the week. But I made a new friend and I'm excited about it, and I wanted to share my thoughts with you all. Especially the people who have stayed, despite the chaos.

Much love and xoxox,
Angela

Life lessons

2007-02-22T08:28:02Z

Do not send naked pictures to your friends.

Hormones

2007-02-21T18:40:55Z

I was a normal human being until I started taking birth control.

I swear, I was. I was able to go about my daily business without spontaneously bursting into tears, sandwiches didn't send me into a blind rage, and my sex drive - while always high - didn't cause me to do stupid, and often illegal things in public places. That all changed when I started taking birth control.

Birth control basically tells your body it's pregnant so that it thinks that it can't get pregnant again. It does this by releasing a lot of girly type hormones into your body, which cleverly tricks your body into not making any babies. It also turns you into a raving lunatic, bent on world domination and chocolate. Birth control raises your estrogen levels, which in turn makes you more emotional, makes you gain weight, and makes a womans sex drive go crazy. I was a normal, adolescent girl when I started taking them, but I turned into Rosemary's baby after.

Think of it as 24/7 PMS. Except that PMS is worse with birth control, too. The cramps aren't as bad and (boys close your eyes) your flow is much lighter, but because you have all of the hormones from the BC in your system on top of your normal PMS you're going to want to sit in a dark room and think about killing yourself for about a week. Don't worry though, you'll be back to regular crazy once you start taking the little yellow pills again.

Now, I never want to have children. I do not have the baby lust every other female I know has, and I do not have any desire to get fat for 9 months, pass something the size of a bowling ball through my vajayjay and have my boobs sag for the rest of my life. My plan is to adopt, and this means I have years and years of birth control ahead of me. Boy, am I looking forward to menopause.

xoxox
Angela

Amusement

2007-02-19T04:18:51Z

I am the biggest fan of my own writing that there could ever be. I find myself hilarious, and my timing to be comic genius. I'm sure this is not true of everyone, so I will often read my own blog to make sure it gets the love and attention it so richly deserves.

I was doing this today, and I realized that I seem to write quite a bit about boys and their stupidity. Now, I have never been a man-hater, and have been, in fact, a proud tomboy all my life. I'm a daddies girl, and I grew up around cars, power tools and heavy machinery. So why all the resentment towards men? Because they stopped giving me orgasms.

I strongly believe that a womans hatred of the male sex is directly related to the number of orgasms she is getting. If she's not getting any it is likely that she's going to hate men for not giving them to her, although I doubt very many women realize that this is the cause of their frustration. Instead they blame complicated motives, inability to communicate and lack of commitment for their anger. I like commitment and all, but I like orgasms better, and as long as he gives them to me on a regular basis and they don't come with a disease I'm willing to forgive him his faults.

All of the women in my family are man-haters, and this further supports my theory, because all of them started to hate their husbands after they had stopped having sex. It's sort of a chicken or the egg thing to try to figure out if they were having problems and then they stopped having sex, or if they stopped having sex which caused the problems. Either way, the marriages all ended badly, and the women have not had a man-induced orgasm since. Now they hate men, you do the math.

But let your hearts rejoice, for I am no longer following the example of my elders. I am really, really not hating men right now. I hate men ten times less than I did yesterday, in fact. My outlook is cheerier, my appetite is greater, and my man hating days are over. All in all, I'd call it an overall success. God bless alcohol.

xoxox
Angela

PM fucking S

2007-02-17T08:37:05Z

When you are a girl and you experience PMS it is not your fault if you are cranky, sad, depressed, moody, emotional, bloated, or bitchy. It is not your fault if, for that one week a month, you hate the world, your boyfriend, your job, your cat, your mother, your friends, your shower, your mailman, or yourself. You are totally allowed, and it is not your fault.

Do not, however, feel that this entitles you to leave the house and inflict your condition on others. I know it sucks, and you hate life, but going outside will not help, and it will only aggravate the problem to have some dumbfuck call you a bitch, and ask you if you're on you period or something. I know it's not your fault, but you are not allowed to punch him in the face. Yes, he is a dumbfuck with no class, but you are - however faultlessly so - a bitch for the next seven days, so you've got to let it go.

Just stay home. Sleep. Watch TV. Eat a dozen candy bars and tell yourself that as long as no one sees you the calories don't count. You're allowed. Call in sick, take a day off, quit your job - whatever you've got to do. Just don't leave the house or all bets are off.

xoxox
Angela

PS - never ask a woman if she is on her period. Never. I don't care if she just bit your head off for buying her the wrong sized diamond necklace, don't ask. There is really only one week a month when we are not PMSing, so it doesn't really matter anyways. Just assume she is, and get over it, cause asking will only increase her rage. Don't poke the bear.

Happy Valentines, Edward Norton.

2007-02-14T02:35:40Z

Hello. My name is Edward Norton, and I am updating Angela's blog for her because she's too busy sitting in a corner pinching herself because I'm actually here.

You see, Angela wished to the Magic Pumpkin that he would bring me to her as a Valentines Day present. Now, I know what you're thinking, "But, Edward Norton, the Magic Pumpkin only comes at Halloween." Well, this is my fantasy, and if I want the Magic Pumpkin to bring me Edward Norton, then so it shall be. I mean, if Angela wanted the Magic Pumpkin to being me, Edward Norton, to her, then that's what Angela gets.

I am, in fact, Edward Norton, not just Angela pretending to be Edward Norton. For, while I am outrageously sexy and manly, Angela pretending to be me would just be lame. And, while Angela is many things, lame is not one of them.

Lets move on together, shall we? Can I hold your hand in my incredibly strong and masculine, yet unbelievably soft and gentle one?

So, anyways, the whole point of this post was to wish you all a very Happy Valentines Day. I know we're a day early, but now that I'm here Angela's going to be too busy for trivial things like that. As of this minute Angela only has time to dedicate to being incredibly sexy, taking off all her clothes, and being fed chocolate covered strawberries by me, Edward Norton.

It's ok to be jealous. Heck, sometimes I'm even jealous of myself. How lucky can one guy be to catch such an incredible woman? And one so good in bed!?

Feel free to call and tell Angela how much you love her, and how jealous you are of her. Not just because she gets to spend time with me, Edward Norton, her dream lover, but also because of how beautiful, smart, talented and sexy she is. Go ahead, give her a call. And don't forget to wish her a Happy Valentines.

Boys!

2007-02-07T08:44:42Z

Seriously.

What is the deal, people? Why does every boy I like want to talk about everything?! It's not life or death, ok? It's not going to kill you to kiss me, and it really won't kill you to not kiss me. We don't need to talk about it, it just happens or it doesn't.

So, it's really ok. If you don't like me then don't kiss me. You don't need to tell me you're not sure - when you are sure it will either happen or not. It just makes it awkward, and makes me feel bad that you were thinking about it and decided not to.

I don't know who gave these guys the idea that they need to express every thought and emotion they have, but I think I need to have a stern talk with them.

Oh, and you should kiss me. Even if you don't love me, it'll be nice anyways.

No, I am not your fuck buddy.

2007-02-06T09:34:45Z

Why does everyone want to be my fuck buddy? Wait, scratch that. Stupid question.

Real question: Why are boys such girls?

So, I've hooked up with some people in the last few weeks. Nothing serious, but just some nice, casual spit swapping. And it's good, and fine, and I'm happy with it staying that way. But then boys feel the need to muck it all up with "declarations of intent" and all that. Seriously, boys are the new girls. I asked a guy I'd hooked up with to hang out today and he responded by telling me that hooking up was fine, but that he didn't want it to go any further than that. Not only did that have no relevance to our conversation, it turned me right off. Sex drive went bye bye. Cause, like, duh. I didn't propose to you, I asked you if you wanted to hang out. Why do you gotta get all up in my business, being all sleazy and crushing my self esteem?

Yes, I'm on the prowl for a new boyfriend. I like having a boyfriend. They're nice, and cuddly, and good for providing food and entertainment on a regular basis. But I am not trying to trap anyone into dating me. Not only had I never considered dating this guy (again, as I already dated him once in high school), but I was astounded that he was the one turning me down, as I'd been feeling pretty damn good about myself and worthy of affection. Way to crush my non-existent dreams, dude. I'm not looking to make just ANY guy my new boyfriend - I have standards. I just got out of a relationship I thought would last the rest of my life, I'm not just going to run to the next guy who smiles at me. He's got to be high quality. Class, looks, the ability to sit in a room with me for longer than 15 minutes and not want to kill himself, or me.

Now, this is not a bash of this guy. He's a very nice guy, and at one time I found him to be excellent boyfriend material. But he's not really what I'm looking for in a boyfriend anymore. He's very sweet, and still one of the most attractive boys I've ever dated, but I'm in a very different place in my life than he is. I want my next boyfriend/lover/person-I-give-my-heart-to to be on the same general path as me; goal oriented, driven, caring, and motivated. M and I were not on the same path, and that's one of the reasons we broke up. If you're not moving in the same direction it's too hard to hold a relationship together. So now I'm looking for someone who I can really see myself with down the line; someone down to earth, practical, affectionate, and someone who wants to plan for their future. Oh, and he has to be outrageously good looking.

I'm not talking about marriage. I'm just saying I want the next person I'm with to want the same things in his future that I want. I'd like to find a real partner in love.

Sappy enough for you? Don't worry, I'm still kissing as many frogs as possible before I find my prince.

catnapdreams @ 2007-02-05T23:46:00

2007-02-06T07:46:55Z

¿Será usted mi Valentino?

I am attracted to very strange men

2007-02-03T23:27:14Z

I was having lunch with my step-mom the other day, and we were talking about the fact that I'm dating again. She was asking what kind of guys I was seeing, and we had the following conversation:

ME: I'm seeing a few guys, no one very special
HER: Well are any of them cute?
ME: Yes, and no. There was a guy I kinda liked, but it didn't work out. Most of them aren't really my type.
HER: You have a type?
ME: Yeah...
HER: I don't think you can really have a type. Like, maybe if you were a millionaire and could choose from anyone in the world you could have a type. But I don't think normal people really have a type.
ME: Oh, well then I need to rethink my whole life.
HER: Well, was Moritz your type?
ME: Nooooooooooooooooooooo. No. No. Not even close. No.
HER: Well then.
ME: But I do have a type. I like tall, rocker type, dark guys.
HER: Tall, dark and handsome? That's your type?
ME: Yes, I'm a walking cliche.

In other news I've asked M to stop calling me. It was too hard, and I'm nowhere near ready to be his "friend." That's bullshit code for "wait until I'm tired of being single, then be my gf again" and I want no part of that. And yes, I cried my eyes out.

In other, better news I've decided I'm totally back on the market. I require dates, and lots of them. Please, date me. Seriously. I'm good in bed and I like to do menial housework!

Hooray! It's a party. In my pants.

The Yang to your Yin

2007-01-03T00:03:13Z

Hello, New Year. I hope you treat me better than your older brother. He was kind of a jerk.

2006 is gone, but definitely not forgotten. The effects of last year still sting, but that's the beauty of the new year - you get a whole new chance to do it again. I have grown unimaginably this last year, realizing who I am and who I want to be. Not only that, but I've made decisions about who I want to have around me. Life is all about balance, and you have to have inner balance before you have external balance.

I'm proud of myself. I'm doing pretty well now.

catnapdreams @ 2006-12-16T10:25:00

2006-12-16T18:26:00Z

I can't seem to stop fucking up my life. I want to but I can't.

I miss my life. I want to go back to the place where I was happy and loved and didn't have to be afraid. And I can't and it's my own fault and I fucked everything up.

I don't know what I was thinking. And now I don't know how to fix it, or myself, and I'm just sad all the time. People keep telling me I'll get over it, that I have to get over it, but I don't know how, or even if I want to. I feel like I'm missing a part of myself.

I keep fucking this up. I keep pushing him further and further away, and all I want to do is pull him closer. I am fucking my life up and I don't know how to stop.

I swear to god I didn't mean to do this. I don't know what I thought would happen but I didn't think it was going to be like this. I don't know what is wrong with me, that I would do something so stupid. I am so sad and so scared and I don't know what to do. I need him.

i don't know what to do. I don't know what he wants. I don't know what I want. I can actually feel my heart breaking, and I don't know how to pick up the pieces and keep going when all I want is to go back.

I'm scared and alone and I hate myself.

Blue Eyes

2006-11-28T01:05:28Z

It is hard to know what to do when your head and your heart aren't on speaking terms. They're both trying to be heard, but I can't hear either of them above the shouting.

I don't know what you want from me.

-----------

Wish enough, wise man'll tell you a lie
Window broke, torn up screens
Who'd have thought that you'd dream
Of a single tragic scene

I just wanna sing a song with you
I just want to take it off of you

Cause Blue Eyes
You are all that I need
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the sweet to my mean

Fess it up, dot on the palm of your hand
I can help you to stand
Saved it up for this dance
Tell me all the things you can

I just wanna sing a song with you
I just wanna be the one that's true

Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes

All the lights on and you are alive
But you can't point the way to your heart
So sublime, when the stars are aligned
But you don't know
You don't know the greatness you are

Cause Blue Eyes
You are destiny's scene
Cause Blue Eyes
I just wanna be the one

I just wanna sing a song with you
I just wanna get it on with you

Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes
I just wanna sing a song with you…