"Do you hate me now?"

Yesterday Captain European and I had a little chat about him dropping off the radar sexually all the while continuing to come to my work and text me. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with his cop-out of a response but I handled it maturely and let it be, so I could instead write a passive aggressive note on the internet. So much for maturity.

“Do you hate me now?”

Suck my dick. Really do I hate you? No I don’t hate you. Hate is a strong word and I for one believe that to hate someone a part of you must love them. You my friend never meant enough for me to hate.

I do however hate the way your idiotic question looks glowing on my phone. I hate that without you knowing you’ve used the one phrase Fred knew would guilt me back into his arms. I hate that you are too much of a coward to simply say “Hey look I think we need to slow down and back up a little” without me having to pry it out of you.

By the way fuck hole, I told you from the get go I wasn’t looking for a relationship and at no point did your dick change my mind. Don’t get confused and assume that me being naked in your bed means I want some sort of title.

Do I hate you now? For your ego I’ll simply laugh, say no and tell you I’m a big girl.

You haven’t earned my hate.

Notes On Surviving The Mad House

Cohabitation is an art form. How I make it a week without setting fire to our house is truly beyond my comprehension. Heres a note on surviving the mad house.

Always, and I mean ALWAYS replace the toilet paper.

Karma is a thing and I like to think taking a massive smeary shit only to find you have no T.P and no one within shouting range is part of some cosmic justice system.

So don’t be a douche bag replace the roll and don’t leave me two measly squares. Whose that helping?

Resolutions Are Bullshit

I’ve tried to do the whole new year, new me bullshit. I’m terrible at thinking of one and even worse at sticking to it. Work out? Quit smoking? These things translate to eat Taco Bell 4 days a week and chain smoke because fuck you no one tells me what to do, not even myself.

After my last very nasty law enforcement involved breakup I decided to write down a list of things I wanted to do now that I was a single 23 year old. Surprisingly bang everything that breathes or buys me a drink wasn’t on the list, though in hindsight it would have been a nice addition. No instead I ended up with a two page mission ranging from little silly things like going to the circus and building sandcastles to big seemingly impossible and serious things like staying single for a whole year to discover myself. Slightly nauseating I know but I was wounded. 

I call this beautiful piece of work my big and small list because I’m witty and clever. So I present my 2014 big and small list.

Get a Tommys breakfast burger (Wake your booty up girl breakfast ends early)

Get a new piercing

Go on some solo hikes with Chingis

Paint something (a face, a wall, a picture, just throw some paint around)

Get a bad ass bookshelf

Go camping

Join something (a book club, roller derby, a knitting circle, get out there and explore)

Buy a camera (take an obnoxious amount of pictures of everything)

Dance the night away (may require mass amounts of alcohol)

Go somewhere historic and sight see

Go mini golfing

Play some laser tag

Go to a sporting event (hockey, football, hell curling will do. Try and learn the rules)

Go ice skating (don’t entirely suck this time)

Bouncy house

Build a sandcastle (bonus beach trip)

Go to the circus (how much cotton candy can one consume before they throw up?)

Put some stupid color in my hair (maybe pink so my grandma will back down about me only wearing black)

Have a Tarantino movie marathon (popcorn, maybe that breakfast burger)

Read 10 books (finish them! That collection of half finished books is calling your name)

It’s not exactly brilliant but wanna hear something crazy? A list of things I wanna do makes me happier then a list of shit I CAN’T do. So fuck New Years resolutions you have to find what works for you. Chili cheese breakfast burgers sound better then waking up early even if that’s exactly what I have to do to get one. I hate working out but laser tag, bouncy houses, and hiking those things require movement and I love them. Sandcastles? I just like sandcastles but with all the bouncy house action I’ll look fabulous in my bikini. Boom!

The Angry Womens class

I have been attending court ordered anger management/ domestic violence classes for almost two years now.

So am I a big burly violent woman. No, I’m a 5’7 120 pound white girl with no intimidation factor. I’m not scary or aggressive. Am I angry? Sometimes, but don’t sit there and act like you’ve never wished you could ram your car into the jackass who just cut you off. Anger is nothing more than an emotion and every Sunday I share a couch with a handful of women who let an emotion get the best of them.

This is the angry women’s class.