Petition to Chlorinate the Human Gene Pool

I’m not one to judge the whole based on a portion.
Not one to judge an entire group based on an individual.

But let’s face it, as I get older(and more bitter), I begin to notice just how asinine many of our fellow humans can be.  Is it wrong to suggest sterilization for the stupid?

Today, I have read about, heard about and otherwise witnessed human idiocy in action.  And I must say, I witness stupidity on a regular basis, but today was saturated with good old fashioned dumb ass activity.

I was walking down the street and noticed a woman stumble in front of me.  I knew the stumble, I’ve done that stumble: it’s the stumble where you are wearing shoes you can’t really walk in for the sake of fashion.  Naturally, I gazed down at her feet.  The woman’s ankle was wrapped for what I can only assume is a sprain or a healing broken ankle  and she was wearing 4-inch, open-toed, open backed wedges.   I understand fashion, I do.  Yes, they were nice shoes but quite frankly, I’d rather wear runners and avoid further injury such as, oh, a broken leg, or maybe a smashed skull.

Shortly after wedge-woman, I encountered a woman with an arm in a sling(maybe these injuries are signs of previous idiocy, who knows?).  She was carrying a rather large backpack – the kind you use to go camping – which looked heavy as it was hanging low and she was supporting it on only one shoulder.  That would seem like a smart idea, right?  Well, it would if she weren’t wearing it on the same side as the sling. Genius.

For the final case of complete lack of intelligence, I will refer to a news paper article:
A few weeks ago, a young man was stabbed, beheaded, cannibalized and cut to pieces on a Greyhound bus.  My heart goes out to the family of that young man and to the people on that bus who had to experience that horrid display.
I won’t speak of the idiocy of the man responsible, because I’m sure it’s fairly clear that he is not only void of intelligence but also of sanity.
I am referring to a church group from Kansas.  I’m not attacking religion, or any city in America here; only this specific church group.  I am usually fairly level headed when reading news stories, but this article angered me so much, I was shaking and red in the face.
The church group plans to protest at the young victim’s funeral stating that the reason he died was that “God” was punishing Canada for it’s laws and tolerance regarding abortion, homosexuality and adultery.  Apparently, this group has also been known to protest outside soldiers’ funerals.  Their actions not only pass far beyond simple human idiocy, but obliterates human decency.  They demand to be acknowledged in their beliefs and respected, yet they have no respect for others.
Luckily, if the lunatics are raging at the border, the border guard has orders to refuse them access to Canada.  However, it will be impossible to prevent all of them access so, forces have been made readily available to stop them should they attempt to display their ignorance.  Defense, not offense; they will not seek the members of the less-than-humane group out, but should any appear, they will be ready to stop them.
Here’s hoping the police use tasers on them.  Preferably in the genital area.

I don’t claim to be supremely intelligent, nor do I say that I have never done anything stupid, but I still don’t come from the shallow end of the gene pool where all the dirt and debris collects and festers.

(Note, that despite the fact that chlorination implies cleansing, I, by no means, think to take it to a Jihad level. I won’t go about trying to eliminate all the stupid people in the world.  Really, if I did, who would run our countries and be our teeny-boppers’ drug-riddled-crotch-flashing-pop-singing-reality-TV-role-models?)

Clarity.

After receiving a slew of questions regarding my last post, I figured I should clarify a few matters.

It’s funny, I got about ten million congratulations on jumping the gun and being in a relationship, and also people wondering who this guy was and so on.  I also found out through the grapevine that others have read my post and assumed that I was suddenly in a relationship.
Also, it makes me laugh that people who have proclaimed themselves as being done with me and staying out of my life, find it in their time to go about reading my posts.  I’m an open book, so I don’t care. I just think it’s funny.

Now for the clarification portion of the evening:
1 – In no way does “seeing” someone mean that I am in a relationship.  It means that we are exploring our options, enjoying time together, without commitment.
2 – In no way does “having it bad” for someone dictate the dreaded L-word(you know the one…that evil word).  I am not in love, nor am I falling in love.  I like him.  I do like him a lot, mind you, but that does not mean love. 
3 – We’re not dating, nor will we ever date.  Circumstances won’t allow for anything substantial, and we are both aware of that, and totally okay with it.  We’re playing things by ear, and have both told each other that we want nothing to do with a committed relationship.  I will never call him my boyfriend and he will never call me his girlfriend. (Except for those two times, we decided to date, woke up the next morning, looked at each other and pretty much laughed, calling the whole thing off.)

I’m allowed to have my fun.  I’m allowed to see someone without the “relationship” being scrutinized and analyzed under a microscope.

PS: Stop reading up on me.  You said you were done with me.  How about acting on what you say?

Again? What the hell? An update.

I know it’s typical of me, but here goes nothing…

I’m quitting smoking…again…the last time I lasted about a month, but then I got hit by a truck and have been smoking again ever since that faithful day. November 30th.

Well, I’m trying to quit again…for several reasons:
1. Money is insanely tight and I’ve gotten into chain smoking due to the stress of school. I go through 2-5 packs a week. Which amounts to about 200$ a month on smoking, if not more, which means about 2,400$ a year. That pays 3 and a half months of rent.  So yeah, I’m attempting to push away this expensive, and bad habit.
2. Health is a big issue.  I’m always sick and cancer runs in my family in a big way.  So I’ve decided to quit for my health as well.
3. My weight is an issue I’ve been tackling a lot lately.  I’ve lost quite a bit just by changing my eating habits and taking diet pills but with smoking, my lungs and energy levels have taken a hit so exercise is kind of difficult…and when I find myself running for 2 and half blocks to catch a bus and am out of breath for a few minutes and my legs are wobbly for about 10 minutes…it’s time to quit.
4. Long term goals…I’ve always wanted to run a marathon or at the very least a half marathon…but with my lungs..well that’s out of the question.  I have bad lungs to begin with (health stuff I won’t really get into) so running is difficult enough as it is, but with smoking as much as I have been, it’s not even an option.
5. The major reason, which compiles all the other reasons into this last one, is my son.  I want to set a good example for him.  He already knows that smoking is bad because of all the no smoking signs and the fact that I tell him it’s no good.  I want him to grow up in a healthy household and I want to be there for it, and to be able to keep up with him. Not to mention have the cash to do it.

So my last cigarette is sitting in a pack in front of me, and I’ll smoke it before I go to bed.

Tomorrow I’m going cold turkey.  It’s not fun, but I’ve done it before(not that I have anything to show for it right now…).  If I can find something to take over my time, I should be ok…I’ll probably start cleaning or working out when I get a craving.  So by the end of the week my place should be spotless. Haha.

I’m still looking for a job, which is difficult because I can only work days Mondays to Fridays because of daycare.  I can very well go to work and leave a 4 year old(5 in two weeks) alone, can I?  And in terms of sitters, everyone else has their lives to tend to, which is fine with me.  So I went and applied to the local Teletech…I worked at the one in Timmins, and that was an interesting experience…nothing spectacular but it’s a job, right?

School is basically over for the year.  I have a few more things to hand in before the 30th and then my first year of Advertising is over.  Then, comes the waiting.  I wait to see if I passed everything, which I think I should.
If I didn’t pass…well I’m leaving.  Some may call it running away, I call it a new beginning.  If I don’t pass my classes, it means I can’t return next semester or graduate because I’ll be missing some necessary credits, so what’s the point?  I could take it second semester of second year, but I’ll be on placement, so I really can’t see myself doing that.
If it so happens that I fail, I’m going to Montreal. Far away from here, where I know almost no one.  Maybe that’s what I need. A REAL fresh start.  Other than school, there’s nothing holding me here. No one has asked me to stay and I don’t expect them to, even though it would be nice.  I know I’ll be missed by some, I’ve been told that, and of course, I will miss many of the friends I’ve made here, but friendship isn’t reason enough for me to stay in a town that I don’t particularly like anymore.  Friendship can last the barriers of space, that was proven to me when I moved here, away from my many friends in Timmins.  They are still dear to my heart, and we still keep in touch.

Tomorrow, I’m going to do a few things that I am not too proud of, that I am not looking forward to doing, but as much as I’ve tried to avoid them, I can’t think of a way around it right now.

I’m aggravated with myself, and I kind of hate myself for doing it, but my future, hell, my present is on the line right now…so it has to be done.

Wish me luck in life. Apparently, I need it. I suck at life.

You live, you learn; You lose, you win

Over the years, like anyone else, I’ve lost some friends, and gained some new ones.

I realize that if I lost the friends, I really didn’t consider them worth fighting for in the first place.

People who had once been an integral part of my life and let something ridiculously mediocre get between us and ruin what should have been true friendship, don’t matter to me.

Those who are out of my life are out of it for a reason. I don’t need their drama, I don’t need their childish ways, and I certainly don’t need their pathetic tantrums when they aren’t the center of attention.

It’s funny how I’ve moved on and some haven’t.  I suppose that is what happens to spoiled children when they are no longer the center of everyone’s universe. Guess what? It’s not all about you.

Luckily for me, I have real friends, I have a support system and I have everything I need. Minus the crap I had to sift through to find that.

It would be nice if people got over themselves and realized that there are more important things in the world then themselves.

Also, a little civility would be nice.  I’m a civil person to those who have left me in the dust, but apparently I’m a dying breed.

Religion 101

So I may not know a lot about religion, but I do know more than a lot of people.

I have taken course after course, and read book after book. I’ve researched and spent sleepless nights wondering, calculating, analyzing.

There are some things that I do know for facts and it’s that those in a particular religion, those who are truly dedicated, will refute anything you tell them, they will refute whatever you may tell them that could possibly falsify their beliefs. I understand this. I really do.

I was raised as a Roman Catholic and I truly believed.  I was a good little Christian, I went to church every week, prayed in the morning, at meals, and before bed and more importantly, I kept my questions to myself.

As I got older, religion seemed questionable to me. I began to ask questions, and in doing so, alienated a great many people.  I learned to keep my questions to myself again.  But eventually, you begin to realize, you aren’t the only one who doubts that faith they were raised with. 

I began doubting my faith at a young age, though I still wanted to believe.  When you are a child and you’re told that you are being protected my some ominous great power, that you are being watched over, you feel safe.  When you begin to doubt your faith, it’s like going out on the ocean during a storm on a rickety canoe with no life jacket.
I wanted to believe, I wanted to be proved wrong. I wanted all my theories to go to shit, and to have some powerful bright hand come down on me and tell me to believe and tell me that “He” was there and that I was not alone. That never happened.
Around 15, I began to stop hoping. And at 17, I stopped believing completely.
This is why:

At 15, I began to discover that I was not alone, and I found the safety that had been lacking in my life with people who encouraged my free thought, who really listened to my religious theories.  They even started to believe what I believed! I didn’t want to be the founder of some new religion but it was nice to see that there was some validity in what I was thinking.
It was like that for quite some time.
At 17, my father went into the hospital. This was nothing new, because he’d been sick for a long time and would have sporadic spurts in the hospital. This, was however the last time, and he would never come home.
When my mother came home and told me he was unresponsive, I screamed, and cried and threw the most childish fit you’ve ever seen. And then, I prayed. I didn’t stop, I prayed. I begged god to let me keep my daddy or to at the very least let me say goodbye.  That didn’t happen.  I didn’t get to say goodbye to my daddy, I didn’t get to tell him that I loved him and that I was sorry for the times I treated him so miserably. And I was. I was so sorry.
The day I had to say goodbye to my father’s cold body was the day I stopped believing almost completely.
When he was in the funeral home, I retreated into the chapel by myself. I sat there, in the back of the dark empty chapel, and had a one-sided argument with the cross at the front. Begged for some answers. Cried, even screamed, and I got nothing.
I no longer believe in this Christian god.

I’m not bashing those who believe. I understand why you believe, and I’m not trying to convert you.  I’m just giving my reasoning.

The sudden onset of wanting to write this post was because i spent the better part of an hour Facebook creeping a religious group.  The pictures that were posted were very anti-religious, adn the comments on them were terrible.  There’s a vindictive onslaught of arguments and hatred.

I understand the validity in ALL religions. I have studied and in fact based my belief system upon many religions.

Is it so hard to live and let live? Is it so hard to let others believe what they may in peace, and have your own belief system?

I have no problem with other religions, as long as no one tries to convert me to them. 

I just wish everyone could get along.  I may not believe what you do, but at least I respect the fact that to you, it’s everything.  It would be nice if others could do the same.

Oh, What a Night…

It’s amazing how you can have a preconceived notion of someones personality in “difficult” situations, and it turns out to be nothing like what you had in mind.

Last night I had several interesting experiences with human nature, and misconstruing meanings.  One will be kept to myself but the other needs to be out there.

I have a friend, whom I thought of as a gentleman.  He’s a wonderful man, a gentle, kind hearted, successful, attractive, intelligent and generally amazing person.  At one point, because of all of this, I had considered him a “prospect”(kind of crude isn’t it…but I suppose you get what I mean…).

Approximately a year ago, we kissed(OK well things were slightly more “heated” then just kissing but come on, I don’t kiss and tell…Or rather, I don’t kiss and blog…OK, so sometimes I do…That’s enough! Haha.), but though I was attracted to him as a person, there was a grand total of zero chemistry, no fireworks, no sparks. Hell, there wasn’t even a shimmer of the possibility of any fire.

Last night I had this terrible feeling, I just didn’t feel comfortable in my apartment, I felt like I was being watched, or that something just wasn’t right.  I was pretty creeped out, for lack of a better term.  I told him this, and being the gentleman he is, he came over to make me feel more at ease.

Well, it turns out that he had been drinking, and he assumed that his chivalrous act deserved a booty call. Well, nay, sir, NAY!
I tried politely turning him down while he attempted to do what I can only assume is eat my face, and then I, a little less politely, tried pushing him away when he held my arms down and clamped down on my neck(and I was in a weakened state due to medication for my sore back). At this point, I nearly shoved him down my stairs.  I told him enough was enough and that he needed to go home and get some sleep.  And the gentleman that I always knew, kindly turned and left.  I watched him leave, and locked my door.

At about 2:30 that morning(I was still awake…sleepless due to the sudden unexplainable creepiness factor of my apartment)there came a knock on my door.

I won’t go into details but there was a hushed, yet heated argument, and I after threatening to scream didn’t work, I threatened to call the police, which sent him on his way and left me feeling empty with a sore arm and clenched jaw.

It’s funny how people can misconstrue meanings so easily.  I suppose he thought I wanted him because I agreed to let him come over to “protect” me…
I am an incurable flirt though, but I’m sure I didn’t lead him on.

I doubt I’ll speak to him again.  He scared me, and I don’t deal well with overbearing men.

I’m going to start watching my signals, watching my words, generally being careful about what signals I may send out.

(Oh and on a side note: never, and I really mean NEVER, have serious discussions with people you care about on MSN or any other chat dealie…Words are far too easily misconstrued there, intonations can’t be considered, and meanings get messed up. Discussions turn into arguments which turn into full blown fights.  Luckily, for me, my mistake is pretty much fixed. Yay.)

Confucius says: “You fucking suck. And not in a fun way.”

So I came across a fortune cookie recipe in a cookbook I had gotten for Christmas, and I decided that I wanted to make fortune cookies. Why? Because I can and they’re fucking cute, okay!?

Little did my pathetic brain take into consideration that I would have to come up with fortunes.  And me being me, I didn’t want any of those craptastic thingies you get at Chinese restaurants. (Fun fact from your very own Wikiwhore: Fortune cookies are pretty much unknown in China. They were invented in San Fransisco.)

If one more cookie tells me that I will live an adventurous life or that I’m caring, I’m gonna fucking snap. So why not make some believable (okay, a little bitchy) fortune cookies?

Be warned…they range in what they say. Some are strange. Some are downright bitchtastic. If you take things personally, then you’re not getting a fucking cookie, got it!?

Fortunes a la Gabby(Some swiped from random sites that I didn’t bother documenting…oh well. Most were inspired from random crap or my crazy friends):

-A clear conscience is a sign of a bad memory.
-The greatest danger could be your stupidity.
-That wasn’t chicken.
-You are unfit to live without constant supervision.
-Help! I’m being held captive in a Chinese bakery.
-Avoid large, heavy objects travelling at high speeds.
-I can’t help you. I’m just a cookie.
-If you live a long life, it will be a testament to the self-control of those around you.
-The best years of your life have already been lived.
-The next fortune cookie you read will be better then this one.
-Don’t turn around. Seriously.
-Don’t take it too seriously when people laugh at you…in bed.
-You will be hit by a bus.
-You’re a big kid now. Prove it.
-Bite me.
-Strangers have better candy.
-Don’t eat me. I love you.
-Watch where you step. That’s not dirt.
-Consider getting sterilized.
-I’m watching you.
-Your mom should’ve swallowed.
-Go fuck yourself.
-Everything you do is wrong.
-You look better in the dark.
-Your face will get hit by a Mack truck. Oh sorry, too late.
-You’ve just been drugged.
-I have something to put in you…a cookie, you pervert.
-Remember: down the river, not across the street.
-No one really gives a shit what you think.
-You will make a name for yourself…in bed.
-You will have bad sex and bad pizza. In that order.
-Your guardian angel just got laid off.
-95% of the things you worry about will never happen. The other 5% will kill you.
-They faked it. Often….in bed.
-You’re special. Yes, in that drooly kind of way.
-An opportunity will present itself. But you’ll blow it. Good job, dipshit.
-There are good things in the future. Just not for you.
-If at first you don’t succeed, take the fucking hint.
-Your dreams are other people’s jokes.
-Trying is the first step to failure. Just stay in bed.

There’s all 40. Now I have to bake the fucking cookies. Yay, insomnia.
I’ll be baking cookies at like 2 A.M. Why? Because I’m cooler then your mom.

Catch 22

I had originally intended to celebrate this year’s birthday with the biggest bash imaginable. Let’s just say that is no longer my plan.

I’m sure it’s normal for some people to feel this way, and I guess it would be normal for me. I’m young at heart, I don’t want my age to keep climbing. But maybe, I do.

I intend to hide in a dark room and wait for the phone to stop ringing, ignore all the Facebook messages wishing me a happy birthday, skim mindlessly through the e-mails, and try not to kick the people who say happy birthday to me, and may the heavens help their soul if they fucking sing.

I don’t want to be 22.  It’s a double-digit. A landmark. And I have nothing to show for it. Fuck.

I’m not well travelled, I’ve never had a great job that I liked, I don’t have any special talents, I’ve never had a substantial relationship, and I’m not finishing school this year.

All this may seem trivial. In fact, I’m sure it is trivial but I can’t help but let it all get to me.

I hear friends and family talking about where they’ve been and what they’ve seen. Hell, I hardly even remember Toronto because I haven’t been there for 10 years.  I want to see the world.  But still, even though I’m only turning 22, I feel like my days are numbered, and I’m just not going to make it.  Ah well, if I live until November, I’m going to Mexico to lay on the beaches, drink tequila and talk about the most random drunken crap I can muster.

There are people who are just working their part-time jobs and love it. Others are already out of school, and have a job they love.  And most others are heading for careers in something they are passionate about.

I’m not particularly good at anything. I’m not musically inclined(I can’t play an instrument, and despite the fact that I try to sing, I just can’t do it), I’m not artistically gifted(I draw/paint but it’s not phenomenal, and let’s face it, I’m not the best writer), I’ll never be featured on the Food Network (call me Martha Stewart all you want, I’m just following a fucking recipe, plus I have a tendency of setting things on fire), I can’t knit, crochet, dance, convince, nothing…I’m not good at anything.

My longest relationship was 6 months long, and the only reason it lasted that long was because it was an open relationship for 3 of those months.  I’ve never had a great love, though I’ve had my heart broken.  It would be nice that I could say, that at the age of 22, I’ve actually believed someone when they said they loved me, but alas, I never bought a single word of the crap that came for those boys’/girls’ mouths.

 Everyone else my age that I went to high school with, who doesn’t already have a job, is graduating from University this year. Me? Not so much. I’m in college and I’m still not sure where I’m going. Like a college diploma, or three will get me anywhere.

I don’t know what the point of this ranting is. I don’t want to be 22 and a nothing.  I have no big news, no fantastic life changing experiences…

I feel like I’m not living anymore, I feel like I’m just surviving. I feel like I’ve become every useless human being I swore I would never be like.  Fuck 22.  Fuck the world. And don’t you dare give me cake.

Happy fucking New Year, bitches.

So it’s 2008.

The beginning of the year after 2007.

Twenty-oh-eight.

Eight years after the world was supposed to end and people scrambled to find candles and unplug their toasters for fear that they would turn into psychotic, instantly intelligent, murderous beings, that would burn you and then eat your brain.

Yeah. Well, so far it sucks.

Fuck you.

Director, I’m ready for my closeup.

I think I might need to be followed by a video crew at all times, preferably with a licensed physician on board.

Apparently, I have become a douchebag, someone who could easily be featured in those jackass films(that I’ve never seen), someone who apparently doesn’t think.

Is it rational to blame it on scotch/whiskey/rye?  Apparently rye makes me want to kill everyone and lick things, scotch makes me think it’s a good idea to go snowboarding for the first time ever at 3 A.M when standing is a feat in itself, and whiskey…well whiskey is a bitch.

Well, I had scotch last night. And yes, I went snowboarding for the very first time…sort of. The boots were about 4 or 5 sizes too big, and I was more then half-cut, but yes, I wanted to take the challenge. And I did.
Of course the whole thing pretty much consisted of me whining, freaking out and falling down(at least 4 times down one fairly small hill), and holding on for dear life to someone I had only met maybe 2 days prior, but he still took good care of me. Yay for nice people!

I have a marvelous collection of bruises covering my legs, and my tailbone feels like it’s going to explode. BOOM!

If I had to describe the feeling, I would probably say that it feels like it’s where death comes from.

Would I change a thing? Hell, NO!
I’m actually ready to try snowboarding again. I’d like to say I’m ready right now…but even just sitting down and getting up is fucking hilarious as it is…I don’t want to push it. Haha. And this time, I would go sober…or at least not so fucking wasted.

I had a good teacher, if it weren’t for him, my face would probably have ended up embedded in the hill and would most likely still be there. Or I would have died…either way, right?

And that was only a portion of my idiocy.  I thought it was a good idea to challenge a bouncer(a guy who tackles drunk bitches for a living). I told him I could flip him if he “old dirtied” me.  And “old dirty” is essentially a choke-hold.  Well, I have training in self defense and on a regular basis, I probably would have at least tried to flip him but, he grabbed me in a kitchen…I was not going to flip this guy(or try to flip this guy)over in someone’s kitchen.
So well, let’s just say that I now know what it feels like to be choked unconscious. As fucked as this will make me sound, it was really fucking awesome.  I’ll admit…I was terrified, but because he was my friend I trusted him. Next thing I remember, I was on the floor and things were foggy.  Pretty intense, right? Sure, why not? (Oh, and I didn’t piss myself or vomit!!! Woohoo!! Haha!)

Yeah, I rock. Haha. Ok, maybe not so much.

It’s funny but the only thing I regret is that this was only yesterday. I should have tried this stuff a long time ago(mostly the snowboarding…not so much the passing out on the kitchen floor..oops). I wish I had met these people before.
Oh wait, I do regret one more thing about that night…All my fucking bruises…And the only reason I regret them is because I have to wear a fucking dress tomorrow. A formal New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s place. Oh well, that’s what tights are for. Fuck.