The Word Game

words

There’s a wrestling match going on inside my head and so far Rogue is losing to the opponent.  Problem is I’m not sure who or what the opponent is.  He remains nameless and faceless.  I resolve to write a great post full of wit and wisdom and end up with this…this…rambling and fumbling of words.  I fucking hate that.

In order to free up the creative process, let’s play a little game.  I’ll say a word and the other me will write down the first thing that pops into my head.  It’s easier when there is more than one ‘you’ inside your head.  Yay for mental health!  Ready, people?  Let’s go!

Ball- Run

String- This is stupid

Room-  With a view!  I win!

Desk- A Fucking mess

Lindsay Lohan-  Also, a fucking mess

Pen- With which to write which I haven’t, thus the need for this idiotic exercise. Next.

Apple- Crunchy

Chair- Dumb chair.  Fell over it this morning…oh. Sorry.

Dog-   The cutest wittle doggie evah…ahem.  Again, sorry.

Weight- Wait?  Or WEIGHT!  Like HOLY SHIT I WEIGH HOW MUCH? Or HOLY SHIT I HAVE TO WAIT HOW LONG?!!  Which one?  Both are evil.

Fruit-  Owns a hair salon and totally denies he’s gay…oh!  You mean FRUIT, like apples and oranges and stuff…again with the apples? Ugh.

Heat- Totally absent in this space and therefore I am FUCKING FREEZING!!  Hello?!! Oh!  I meant house.  I’m home today…back to the words…

Keys-  Ima gonna need a new set when they change the locks on the door…to my HOUSE of course, because that’s where I currently am.  HOME.  Yeah.

Florida- where I should be at the moment.

Book- Love them all, read them all, wrote a couple…awesome stuff.

Paper- Umm….white, blank lately, some have lines, trees died for them?  What do you want from me?

Elvis- We went from paper to Elvis?  Really?  “Thank you, you’re beautiful”.  All I got.

The lights are on but no one’s home-  The story of my life…This is supposed to be ONE word.

Money-  Apparently not something young adults take downtown so instead of  YA being able to get home independently, she feels the need to call the mommy so she can meet her at a location only to have that location change when mommy gets there due to the absence of money and the YA’s ability to avail of the public transportation system therefore, after much yelling and throwing of cell phone in car, (which sadly now works intermittently at best) mommy dutifully drives all over fucking town (since the location of pick up changed twice after the first time) to rescue daughter and friend only to hear  “thanks” and “well, if you had let me take the car this wouldn’t have happened”…. Good thing my phone is due for an upgrade….

Fuck off- See above.  ‘nuff said.

Thank you for playing.  See you next time on WORD ASSOCIATION-THE BEST GAME FOR YOUR MENTAL HEALTH.

Disclaimer Clause:  It should be noted that no harming of any cars, horses, dogs, cats, wandering hobos, daughters or cell phones occurred in the above scenario.  Swearing was kept to whispers and loud voices in my head…I think it was implied in the yell of “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY?  WHO GOES DOWNTOWN WITHOUT CASH?!!  TELL ME!  WHO DOES THAT?!”   Ugh….

Fear and Paranoia Are Now My Besties

My blogging days have dwindled since the episode-that-shall-remain-nameless.  Fear has held me tightly within its grasp and I am struggling to be free.  It ain’t easy.  I’m constantly looking over my shoulder to see who’s watching, then I’m incessantly censoring my words to make sure they’re not offensive or distorted; twisted into being malicious.  It’s a slippery slope.  It’s an uphill climb.  It’s fucking craptastic.  I hate thinking someone is misinterpreting what I’m saying as a slight against anything.  I’m simply saying what’s in my gut, people.

Maybe I should have a disclaimer clause at the beginning of each post clearly stating my wanton disregard for other’s feelings on the subjects I tend to complain about.  Or maybe I should have one of those announcers at the beginning of each post, like certain television programs, warning people of the ‘mature subject matter’ and the ‘material some may find offensive’.  I could leave out the ‘contains nudity’ part…or maybe I should include that.  Maybe more people would read on…stuff to think about.

It’s nice to think that some people actually miss me…is that weird?  Hmm…I’ve thought about re-opening the past, but that would just lead to more shit to hit the fan, so I think I’ll leave well enough alone.  If people miss me that much, they could track me down.  Or I could tell them.  Gee, that’s a swell idea.  Invite people to this one..hmmm…I think I shall prepare my formal invitations.  They’ll think it’s a party…I suppose drinks could be served.  And snacks.  Marvelous idea.

I’ll get working on the list.  In the meantime, thanks for stopping by and reading.  I shall be in touch and see what roaming around the ‘sphere I can do without getting decapitated in the process….that’s rather painful…I’d rather steer clear of that, thanks.

 

My Name Is Ishmael, But You Can Call Me Asshole

That’s kind of where I’m at today.

We love you, but you’re an asshole.

Yeah…I can kinda see how you came to that conclusion.

Is there any use in attempting to defend myself?  No?

Asshole it is!

But you love me, right?

You still think I’m pretty awesome most of the time, right?

Everybody is allowed one mistake, right?

Right?

What?

Asshole…

Oh, sorry.  I was talking to myself….

 

Snow Storms and Swearing

The impending snow storm has various members of our community in a tizzy.  The grocery stores and supermarkets should be inundated with hoards of people ready to buy the last banana and potato chip bag left on the quickly depleting shelves.  I dare say the liquor store is the busiest. Afterall, what is a major snowstorm without the booze and Doritos?  Bring it, snow Gods we have our beer and are ready to partay!!   All I need is a 60cm snow drift in front of my door to block out the asshats who think snow storms are for driving around in and MUST GET TO WORK!  What??!!  I can’t hear you with the 100km/hr winds drowning out your sorry excuse of a yell…go home!  No!  I can’t help push your tiny smart car down the street…Ugh…

I can’t talk about what I really want to talk about because I’m not fully exonerated from my sins yet, so I will say this instead…um…..fuck. 

I sincerely enjoy that word.

Fuckity, fuck-fuck, fuck…shit.  Dammit…fuck-poop…

My verbal cussing is enjoyable for me.  Sorry if you-

Wait…nope, can’t apologize…I’m not sorry. 

I’m not fucking sorry.

There, that’s better.

Thanks