Forever Tainted

You don’t deserve credit, respect or admiration for what your parents did.

It all boils down to you being two disposable things: human sperm & a human egg – both of which are disposed of regularly; one monthly in a rush of blood, the other on the tummy or back of, down the throat of a girlfriend, a one-night-stand, fuck-buddy, rubber-doll, or prostitute as frequently as you change panties (and that’s being generous), not to mention into tissue or on bed-sheets or in some other random place.

You want respect? Earn it. Don’t expect it for what others did before you - even if you are made from what could have equally been their trash.

Reality’s a bitch, isn’t it?

~*~
I have some thinking to do.
~*~
I will get back to you.
~*~
You. ROFLMFAO. I wonder if you could look at you, would you laugh the way you make me laugh?
~*~
I hope deleting it was the right thing to do for you, Whore.
~*~
And you... I just miss you. Come home to me soon.
~*~

I almost threw up last night… After work we did this:



Or at least that’s the ride we started at. By the time we were done at the fair, we had been vibrated, spun and thrown around so much both of us were on the verge of vomiting. I’d given my bubbles (that we brought along from home just for the sake of blowing off the top of the ferris-wheel) to a little girl who loved them, and Lars gave away our last ride ticket to a young man who looked like he just wasn’t done yet! We ended the evening with a Greek salad, great steak (like seriously, one of the best steaks I’ve ever had), lasagne (none for me as the crappy carb food I’ve been eating lately is making me feel yucky and cranky) and escargots, before heading home and cuddling up to sleep.

We were both plagued with disturbing dreams last night. His included me traveling to Snow Lake with him and then leaving him for a cop that pulled him over for speeding. Mine was bad, but a little more sinister and I don’t care to think about it, let alone repeat the details. Suffice it to say I was glad to wake up in his arms this morning where all was right in the world. We had our first coffee’s in bed where we cuddled up and read the OMG book for a few giggles before work.

I adore that my life is suddenly so full of giggles. Even-more-so that I’m giggling with someone I love so very much.

"You know what's a good food? Avocados. They fucking rule. Fucking avocados. I'm so there if it's gonna be avocados, I'm there. If I can have that with avocado, I'm gonna order it with avocado. That's my way. I'm like, yes to avocado. Yes. Yes, yes.



You know what else I like? Pillows. Pillows are really great. Like if I'm lying in bed, and my head is on a pillow, I'm like, okay. Pillows are fucking awesome. If I believed in God, I would say, "Thank you, God, for pillows and avocados. Those are a couple of really good things."



And kittens. They are so fucking cute. I fucking love sweet little kittens playing with string, or giving a little "mew mew mew," or when they are sleeping. So fucking great.



And babies. They are cute too. Not as cute as kittens. But pretty cute.



I must be in a pretty good mood right now to be able to think of four things that make me happy without fucking it up with something that sucks, because I know, of course, that there are a lot of things that suck right now, but right now, in this moment, I'm thinking only about good things.



Like cake. They make vegan cake, which is great because I don't eat animal products anymore. They can even make cheesecake out of tofu, and I fucking love cheesecake, even though I don't eat it anymore. It's not actually as delicious as cheesecake, but it's pretty fucking good, so if I believed in God, I would also put in thanks for cake, babies, and kittens.



Oh yeah, and skullfucking. I really like that too."



The best weekend ever...

'You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?'

I like being a toy. People play with toys. People love to play. Love makes people smile. I smile when I make people smile. Toys are good.

Betcha wish you were a toy too, dontcha?

I am…

…not surprised that you took that which you did not pay for. Even your psuedo-intellect is fantastic, why should your morals not be?

From cow to plastic you stole and even my brother, your equal (though you see it not) is not surprised (and you would not neither, if you were he!).

You see not like the rest of us… and may you never see it our way.

As I fear the humiliation of being you would kill you without question.

How much you must hate yourself not to see.

Having never been wrong about anything my entire life, even when telling you what your opinion should be on K9’s and other such things, is finally taking it’s toll on me. Sympathize with me, as stupid mortals cannot comprehend how stupid they are and it’s driving me insane.

I’m right. I’M RIGHT! I AM ALWAYS FUCKING RIGHT! I’ll stomp my feet and twist my words, drag up issues from the past while screaming at you to prove it. I am never wrong.

Nor am I responsible for my own happiness, my own security, even my own toilet.

You are. Or she is. Or even him, over there!

And when you fix what I have broken, I owe you neither apology nor thanks. How absurd you should expect even a note of gratitude from someone of my standing. Mortal humans, so stupid! You are unworthy of my time, will you never learn?

So dumb you are that you’ll never see it my way – it’s almost cute to watch you try. But can you not see the troubles you cause me?

How hard it is to always be right in a world where everyone else is wrong.

Catching the latest ferry to the island last night, I found unexpected comedy. Waiting in the line up at the terminal then dark, that in the middle of the day is usually enveloped in some of the most calming and beautiful scenery on earth, I caught glimpse of signboards I’d usually take no note of.

The terminal in the day, last autumn:


~*~

~*~


Driving through clouds so low, seeing the fog wrap it’s mystical fingers around fallen orange, red and green leaves always makes me picture little elves and ferries hiding just out of sight in their log homes. But we’ll save those thoughts for another night. Last night’s eye-catcher was more amusing.

The signboards start off like any other official notice. First there was a flash asking us to park within 24 inches of the cars in front of us, naturally to conserve space on the ferry. Then there was this:



Perfectly normal. The 3rd sign flashed was just plain common sense:



But the last sign we got actually made me giggle:



~*~

Who the hell got to determine the order in which these signs are displayed? And why did I find that amusing enough for me to share? I have a feeling it’s like a ferry crew’s internal joke or something. There’s no way they could have absentmindedly given us a number to call while we’re not supposed to be talking on the phones to find out why we’re not supposed to be talking and driving and boarding a vessel at the same time, could they have?

Anyhow... I made it to the island and finally to Greater Victoria. A friend of mine is going through a bit of a tough time right now, having just broken up with his girlfriend, working 5 jobs and living out of a hotel. So I stopped by his one of his work places just after 1am, that just so happens to be a strip club he bounces at, to give him a hug. I decided while I was there, I should watch at least one show – after 12 years of censorship in the UAE, I’m in a place where being naked is legal!! Yay me! (When I reread this, all I can think is "That's gheeeeey..." Thanks mother-of-six-cats, you've ruined me). Anyway, the show wasn’t half as amusing as I thought it’d be, thus I left midway through the show to Sam’s place.

We spent the night watching German movies, chatting bullshit, and simply catching up. My stay was over way too soon, with me waking up this afternoon and rushing out the door while giggling at elementary insults slung at me on an online forum most-likely blocked in the UAE. I thought everyone knew, Samurai Sam has given me his best shot! And there is no internet warrior on the planet that can scorn worse than that boy was able in his day – unless of course, it was my own metaphorical gun pointed at my own head. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing, or a bad thing but I no longer have the motivation, or even inspiration to let my male ego take over and show a bitch a bitch even when provoked - I'd rather knit; which by the way, happens to be my most recent hobby, and my debut scarf has gotten rave reviews! Anyway, back on topic, whether it's good or bad, it certainly is the case. CG would be so proud of me...

So dinner with my family went smoothly. It took a bit of convincing to get my mom out of the house, and every now and then her even sober statements would stray from any relevant topic. She looked frail and fragile, and a little bit vulnerable and naive. She complained about being cold, talked about having to pack up her dinner for the dog, giggled at little jokes, but mostly stayed quiet. Sometimes, it almost feels like my mom is becoming a child again. Today, as I hugged her goodbye and told her I loved her, she almost started to cry. She almost started to cry as she did when she departed Dubai for Canada, without me. I think my mom herself knows as well as we all know, that she’s near her last breath. I think she can feel the irreparable damage the alcohol, and sheer neglect of her body she’s done. And more importantly, I think she’s come to recognize and is shameful of her actions over the past year, her actions and the consequences of them that have affected the entire family.

She promised she would come visit. And as crazy as she is, so long as she’s not drinking while she’s here, I’m looking forward to it.

I didn’t get a chance to see a few people I’d planned to while I was on the island. And for that reason, I’ll have to go back sometime soon. But I did have a coffee with Rodney on my way out. And I did have an epiphany while having to go pee more than I’d ever had to in my life, only to be postponed from accessing the bathroom for one reason or another until I thought my teeth were literally going to start floating or my tummy would simply bust right open... and I did observe an amusing table of Jordanians while on the ferry ride back. But it’s 2.30am, and the kittens curled up at my side, are a reminder it’s now time for me to go to bed – or I’ll be late for work tomorrow despite all my efforts to insure I’d make it. So we’ll have to save those stories for another day.

For now, I leave you all with this:

Thursday evening I had to leave my office for the pharmacy because I had what I thought was a tooth ache. It was severe, anyone who knows me knows I don't leave work for anything at all. Anyway, I picked up oragel, and a bunch of serious cleaning crap thinking maybe I was getting a gum infection. When I got home I scrubbed the shit out of my mouth. I woke up the next morning (Friday) hurting even worse with a nasty swelling under my tongue. I called a dentist and made an emergency appointment for that day. When I got there, the dentist had a bunch of x-rays done, counted my teeth, and told me I had perfect teeth. The pain he said could be caused by a damaged or ruptured saliva gland. He gave me antibiotics to take 3 times a day said he'd see me again in 8 days, and sent me home, with nothing for the pain. It cost me $200 - and he didn't even clean my teeth.

I woke up Saturday morning (after taking the stupid antibiotics as he'd prescribed) wishing someone would cut my fucking head off the pain was so bad. My sister took me to Emergency in the hospital. I have a stone (like a kidney stone) in my saliva gland. They gave me a shot of Morphine and examined my mouth. They put me on antibiotics by IV, and had me go back each day at 9am and 9pm to get another dose. In between I was given a stronger antibiotic by pill to take every day at 3pm. For the pain, they gave me T3's (which relieved pain for about 20 minutes) and Oxycontin (which relieved pain for about an hour). My chin swelled up so it looked like I had a fucking Adam's Apple in the wrong spot.

On Monday, I went to Vancouver and saw an oral surgeon, who was meant to cut the fucking thing out of my mouth. He couldn't because it was so inflamed. Instead, he upped the dose of Anitibiotics by IV and sent me back home - and to the hospital twice a day. Finally, on Wednesday the swelling stared going down, the pain started to subside, and they were able to take me off IV, and god damn it feels nice to take a shower without a fucking needle stuck in my arm to get stuck in my hair! I'm on oral antibiotics 4 times a day until it's down far enough to operate or the stone passes on it's own. I still have a swelling under my tongue. And I still have all the pain killers in case I need them. I've also been put on some other drug to help with the inflammation.

All I can say is it fucking hurt. But as if all that isn't bad enough, now that I'm better I had to turn into a masochist it seems. This morning, I managed to fall down my wooden steps ripping the shit out of the entire right side of my body. It doesn't end there, either. While leaving my sisters house and getting into my car, I convinced myself for a moment I would be able to multitask... Surely, I should have been able to open the car door and wave at the neighbor simultaneously -- but hell no... I smashed the left side of my face into the car door. I am one big, HUGE walking fucking bruise it seems.

Oh, and we currently have blizzard conditions of wind chills reaching -20, winds expected to be at 90 km/h, and snow bringing visibility to about zero. And I don't have snow tires on my new car.

When it snows, it really fucking dumps.

Some anonymous dickhead who got a hard-on for me on another site decided to tell me what my problem was in comments here earlier today. Oh feeble minded anonymous and those like you, please allow me to make it easier for you by pointing out what my fucking problems are, so you can gladly copy & paste them in the future and be at least remotely accurate in your findings.

My biggest problem is myself. I’m a fucking cunt, not only to you but also to me. There is NOTHING you can say to me that I haven’t already told myself. I suffer a number of psychological disorders, I grew up in an alcoholic family, I have been molested more than once. I seek love in the wrong places from the wrong types of men. I cut myself. I snap, and have attempted to commit suicide (and murder) on more than one occasion. I burn way too many bridges and I find it really hard to forgive. I have to take pills to get my pitiful ass out of bed most mornings. I over-analyze just about everything. I don’t trust people, and I don’t trust myself. I make piss-poor decisions. I judge harshly, and I’m even a little racist not to mention bias concerning some things. I’m a little over weight and on the verge of becoming anorexic, my mother lost her mind and thinks I’m the antichrist. My son is on the other side of the planet, and I have made a miserable mess of my whole fucking life.

I never should have been born in the first place. But guess what dickhead, I was. And I’m not going anywhere real quick, and most certainly not because you believe the world would be a better place if it only existed of people as oblivious of themselves as you are. I may be a royal fuck up, but I know myself and I know along with all these ‘problems’ (that many, many more people face without even realizing), I’m also more intelligent than your average twat, more loved than most online trolls, more intuitive, more artistic, more creative, funnier, more accepting, kinder, bolder, stronger, with a broader view of the world, and I have a brilliant future waiting me. I excel in everything I do!

I’m 27 years old and I’m well on my way to fixing my problems, thanks to the fact that I realize they exist. Maybe instead of telling other’s what you think their problems are, you should spend more time asking yourself what the fuck your own problems are and counting your fucking virtues.