Double standards

Suck ASS. Seriously. Don't bitch about me not hanging out with you and then not invite me to stuff.

Sidebar, Ryan comes home today. Mixed feelings.

NEW FAVORITE BLOG ALERT

I found Dear Coke Talk while reading over someone else's blog, and I must say, I'm in love. This girl is crass, hilarious, politically incorrect, and totally my style. She gives advice to people who (sometimes) ask dumb questions, and she does it with 100% confidence and 100% original style. New girl crush anyone?

So you can submit questions, right? So I submitted one that said something along the lines of "I love morning sex. I hate morning breath. Advice?" And then this popped up on her style blog, Whoretalk.

I feel fucking famous.

Honesty, ironically.

There are a lot of things I would like to blog about right now. And sadly, the things I really want to blog about I feel I have to edit because of who might read it. I can't even tell you how restricting that feels. I want to go into my deepest thoughts, but once you find out who's reading your thoughts, you begin to edit them. And I'm sick of editing. I've always kind of prided myself on being honest -- I thought it was one of my best attributes. But recently I've laxed a little bit on that front. I haven't been honest with myself, and that was leading to dishonest relationships. Ironically, this clip just came on TV.

Pass it On TV Spots Classroom | Values - Pass It On

So here we go. What I honestly want to blog about, because, quite frankly, I don't give a fuck who reads this. These are my thoughts. Don't reprimand me for them. I didn't ask you to read this, or show it to you personally. You're choosing to read it, so read it, and shut your mouth.

Christmas present from Alex. It reads, "SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE". Easily my favorite present.

I'm dreading our upcoming "camping trip". I just know it's going to get really awkward. I was always the third wheel with Ryan and his friends, because I was the one who went to a different school. Yes, we all had the same friends, but I wasn't privy to their inside jokes, and frankly, didn't share the same sense of humor. And now, on top of that, I know where their loyalties lie -- and it's with Ryan, not me. I can confidently say that whatever I say to any of those girls will get back to Ryan. Guaranteed. And now that we've broken up that has become ten times worse. So camping will be awkward, to say the least. I just know I'm going to have a hard time sitting around and pretending that we're all best friends when I know where their loyalty lies. I'm not retarded. It's almost insulting how stupid they think I am, when they think they're being all sneaky. They seriously think that I buy they're actually interested in my life? No, I know whatever I say goes right back to their boyfriends, and right back to Ryan. But if I don't talk to them I'm being bitchy and I hate them.

So why am I going, you ask? Because I want them to prove me wrong. Because they've been trying to convince me that even though we broke up we can still all be friends. And I really, really want to believe that, so I'm going. Who knows what will happen.

Vaguely Titled Blog Post

I'm tired of work. I miss school (mostly the people there). And I had a dream about kitties last night.

Their names were Clara, Maria, and Ginger.

No, I didn't stumble on this.

I was clever enough to find it myself.

Tis the season.

Welp, it's official. I survived my first semester of college -- hopefully with a 3.0. And now I'm home (and by home, I mean bored) for the holidays.

Not surprisingly, I have something to rant about:

Christmas lights.

At this time every year, each yard and house is decorated in full glory with Christmas lights. They range is color and style, each house being unique in amount and arrangement. Recently, I discovered my pet peeve for such lights.

It all started when I was pulling out of my OWN driveway for work. Our lights had popped on (they're on a handy little self-timer), and I couldn't help but notice the net lights draped on our dead rosebushes. Given, we have a lot of other lights up (not excluding the giant Santa and Snowman blow-ups in the middle of the yard), but my eyes immediately went to the dead rosebushes. I would think the point of Christmas lights would be to highlight the POSITIVES of your yard. Like wrapping a string of lights around the light post, for example. It would also make it more visible to drunk holiday drivers on an icy street, "OH SHIT I'M ABOUT TO HIT GIANT A CANDY CANE." 2 birds with one stone. What would be the point of draping net lights over dead rosebushes anyway? What are they supposed to look like? Random heaps of light? I don't understand. So that got me thinking -- what is the point of Christmas lights? And decided they are for highlighting your house, or trees in your yard or something. And then, before even leaving my neighborhood, I spotted another holiday light faux-pas. The house on the corner had lights carelessly draped on their baby trees. Now, there's nothing wrong with draping lights on baby trees. In fact, I encourage it. I'd rather see lights on baby trees than dead rosebushes. But it looks like they let their 6-year-old do it. And gave him a 3 second deadline. I don't understand. If you're going to take the time (and power, for that matter) to put up Christmas lights, at least make them look good. If you don't have the time, why do it at all? You're just going to have to take them down in a month (give or take) anyway.

And then there's the whole deal about the actual lights themselves. Icicle lights? Oh wait those are supposed to look like icicles? Because all I see are zig-zagged white things that look tacky.

I get it -- some people don't have parts of their house to highlight. So people like my parents are forced to drape lights on dead rosebushes (but really, we have no excuse. Plenty of columns to wrap lights on and look pretty).

But now that I've noticed this, it's just one more thing that will bug me about humanity.

Too much time on your hands.

I really, really, need to see this movie.

I don't know why it's messed up. But you get the point.

Who comes up with this shit?

Seriously, I want their job.

Two doughnuts, a bag of popcorn and one diet coke later:

It's finals week. And I have a shit ton to do. So I'm going to write this blog post instead.

I'm a stress-eater. When I get stressed out, I eat. This box just signifies happiness for me.

I prefer Krispy Kreme, but this did the trick.

On the bright side, 24 hours from now I will be completely done with my first semester of college.

Weird.

Maybe my next blog post

Should be about anonymously bitching people out over the internet.

Nah, it's already been done.

Some People

Are really annoying Facebook friends. And no Jen, I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about the person you add because you've seen them around and know who they are, but you don't talk to every day. And then they feel the need to post a status every 30 minutes, alerting you how far they are in their 7-page paper due the next day, how much they miss their boyfriend, or what have you. Well guess what. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. Trust me, annoying Facebook friend, no one wants to know what the fuck you're doing every single second of every day. NO ONE. Except maybe your mother, but she doesn't need to be your friend. Call her, for Christ's sake.

I know how annoying over-Facebooking can be, so I try to limit myself to one status a day, unless it's really important. And I mean IMPERATIVE to my well-being. Not fucking (and this is a direct quote)

"Power Point: Check

Final Paper Rough Draft: Check

Study for Western Civ Final: ......"

Seriously, this chick has had 4 status updates. TODAY. All within 3 hours of each other. WHYY?

Anyway, back to my point. I try not to be an annoying Facebook friend. I try to make my posts clever. Sometimes I spend too much time Stumbling so everyone's walls end up spammed with my links - but hey, they're always funny as shit.

First real-life concert experience

Was a little disappointing. Given, I was there with an awesome guy, but the concert itself was shitty. In my opinion. First of all, I didn't know any of the bands. When they started playing, it was apparent why: Screamo. Seriously, these people consider this music? I mean, whatever floats your boat, but this was a little ridiculous. We got there in time to see the last song of one band, and then two other bands. The sad part is that they all sounded the same. To me, at least. I should point out that I was trying, really, really hard to have a good time. I really was. I was trying to get into the music, I swear. But I was just embarrassed, to tell you the truth. I really didn't fit in there. Like, at all.

So I decided that concerts were better for people-watching than actually listening. It just makes me wonder where these kids' parents are. First of all, it was a Tuesday night. What kind of parent would let their child go to a screamo concert on a Tuesday night? Not my parents. That's for sure. At least not when I was their age. Which was like 12.

I also decided that I have a hard time taking people at concerts seriously. There's the people that are there to fucking JAM OUT, right up next to the stage, where they attempt to grab the lead singer (who, by the way, hasn't washed his hair in over a month), or there's the people in the back, looking like fucking pricks who are too cool to jam out.

Overall, the entire experience was just awkward. But whatever. I had fun. *Cringe*

Things I realized about myself recently:

1. I am not a cynic.

But somehow, this came as news to me.

I was reading over my friend Maria's blog, and realized this. Don't get me wrong, I love Maria. She's hilarious, and is the only one of my friends (at least now) that doesn't judge me when I choose to drink. In fact, we get drunk together on a fairly regular basis. She is also teaching me how to not be annoying. And when we first met I thought we had TONS in common - and we do. But we also have some pretty fundamental differences, one being I feel emotions, and frequently make poor decisions based on them. Maria is convinced she has no feelings, and laughs at (cringes, really) those who do, thus proving my point that Maria is a cynic. In every sense of the word. When you Google 'cynic' Maria is the number one result. At some point, I would have freaked out at realizing I am not a cynic, that is no longer the case. I've come to terms with the fact that I am fairly sentimental, and overemotional at times. And while I do poke fun at those who get hung up on small things, realizing that I'm one of them is a big step in the right direction, I think. And I'm going back and adding this other part that I cut out earlier, just because I like it. I came to this realization when I was reading through Maria's post about not wanting to get married. It made me question why I wanted to get married, and the answer was simple. Because I'm self-centered and want people to gawk at how beautiful I am and I want to look back at pictures and gawk at how beautiful I was. Simple as that.

2. I don't like having a roommate.

At the beginning of the year, my roommate did a good job of making herself scarce. I didn't mind this, but I also didn't know how to appreciate it - until she started sticking around more. Ironically, this was when she informed me that she was planning on transferring at semester. This wasn't necessarily a surprise to me. She never really made an effort to make friends or get involved with school activities. Hell, she practically lived at her boyfriend's house. And if she wasn't there, she was in our room, watching Netflix (with no headphones, I might add). Anyhoo. She told me she was transferring at semester, and I was absolutely thrilled at thought of having a single. And then, this week, she told me that she's actually NOT transferring.

Well, shit.

So now I'm looking into getting a single next semester.

3. I actually like having a boyfriend.

Well, not really a boyfriend. I like not being mentally tortured. I told Ryan when I broke up with him earlier this year that I was "going to date every guy in college and realize that they're all douchebags" but didn't really believe it. Now I do. The past couple months have been really hard on me man-wise. However, I'm moving on, and am actually over it. I've been telling myself that since things ended, but now I can actually say that it's true. I'm over it, and I've moved on. And it feels AWESOME, lemme tell ya.

And I realize #1 ends with me looking like a silly narcissistic girl, but what more would you expect from someone with their own blog? I think all bloggers are self-obsessed in a way. They think their thoughts are important enough to be posted on a public domain. Whether or not they really are is up to other people to decide.

1,296 words to go

Fuck, I'm screwed.