Not alone.

This is what's it's all about.
This right here I identify with one-hundred percent.
She's my kindred spirit.
I could not have explained it better myself.
The post made me smile at parts, cry at others... and feel as though someone was reaching into my chest and squeezing my heart the entire time.

Yeah.

Ooopsies.

I REALLY need to get into the habit of forgetting Blogger exists when I'm drunk/buzzed.

I thought about deleting the previous post, but fuck it... whatever... I didn't commit too many grammatical errors... I think I make more mistakes while sober, actually... so it stays.

At least this time I didn't pour my heart out, even if I did mention an ex-boyfriend.

I woke up in the morning hungover as fuck. Tired as shit. Confused. Swollen-lipped (which is weird... anyone else get swollen lips after drinking too much?). I kept burping the smell of burnt cookie... which gets annoying real quick.

But alas, I made a full recovery by two in the afternoon.

Then everything went to hell at night, when I had a lovely conference call with Pacemaker and her cousin...

To be continued in a later post. I'm actually cheating right now so I can get all the posts for the month down.
This one's going to be a LONG one, and since it's technically Saturday morning when I'm finishing this up (I began the entry early Firday morning), I might as well just post this shit as is and count it for Friday.
I'm out of time.

900

This marks my 900th post.
Oooo.
Write something meaningful? Insightful? Symbolic? Interesting?
Nah.
Load up the post with photos?
Too lazy.
Shit talk?
I'm trying to curb that.
Get sentimental?
Hmmm... this one might work, since I'm always on the verge of slitting my wrists and shit (really, I'm not. I'm only being sarcastic here).
Angry Hulk AnoMALIE post?
I keep that shit on Twitter for the most part... or at least I try... maybe because it's usually the closest thing to me when someone decides to wake the beast/rock the boat/piss me the fuck off.

It's a trip to think that if I were to follow the rule of "100 words or more" I'd have at least 9,000 words-worth of... bullshit.
Ha.
But of course, I do have those entries where I only write two or three words like "Fuck this." Or "My grandma died." so that kinda fucks with the word count.
I also have those never-ending entries... the ones where even I refuse to read them.
Curt or verbose. I can never find a happy medium.

900 posts.
Makes me think of that movie, Anne of the Thousand Days.
I think
If each post were a day, then I'd be 100 days away from getting beheaded by my asshole husband.
That movie did a number on me. They should never show that shit to an impressionable 14 year old.

900.
I didn't know I was capable of having THAT many thoughts.
I'd expect my writing to improve after 900 posts... or at least my thoughts to become a little more complex.
But no. I'm mighty monotonous. I might actually be turning stupider. Far stupider.
But that doesn't surprise me.

My apologies, 900... but this old lady is too fucking tired to write any further.
Getting old sucks.

One Forty

Heartbreak is in the air.
All I have to do is look at my FB or twitter to notice.
Many people's lives are falling apart.
Sure, it's reassuring to know I'm not the sole depressed person in my circle... but it's getting fucking annoying!
:)

I only say that for the constant bitchers who go on twitter and post sad music lyrics, followed by "please hear it @bitchwhoisbeingshady." Or write shit like "I give up..." every two days.
Amigo, how is that possible? I thought you originally gave up last week. That's not how giving up works... unless you're giving up multiple things... like smoking, then coke, then heroin, then corduroy pants.
I have to go through my phone notifications and watch this soap opera unfold at six in the morning.

But, hey! I am glad I'm not alone.
Now let's all quit bitching, yeah?

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?! I'm a habitual offender.
Well... not that I tweet sad lyrics or any of that shit-- I dedicate my 140 characters to ranting... obviously... since that's all I know how to do: bitch (that, or post photos of my cocktail of the day. Half of my photos are composed of martinis or scotch on the rocks... and an occasional weakass wine).
But I do find myself complaining a lot about my romantic misadventures, how it sucks knowing that I'm going to die alone, how no one loves me, and all that nonsense, all on a different venue...
Hi.
I do the annoying tweet thing, but in blog form. I can only imagine how obnoxious it must be to constantly read different excerpts of "Falling Away With You" (go kill Minnow for that one... he introduced me). I also "quit" and "give up" on things every other day... but I always go back on my word.
Is this bitch really ever going to stop falling for dudes who couldn't care less about her?! She promised last week!
The answer here is... N-O.
So... for all that, I do apologize. I just hope you do realize it's never going to stop (although I did give up corduroy pants for good).

I propose we all cheer up for now... and laugh at the video from yesterday.
I even have an update on the whole thing!
I went to Corey's page... where, as expected, everyone was ripping on him. His response?

"they think I stuck something up my ass and it was between my crotch!! Its all slander!! And I'm taking action!! It was pills that fell out of my tights and I got arrested for possession!! Real talk!"

... and I suppose that makes it better... ???

Obviously a man's intelligence didn't make it to the top of my list until after I went to college.

Stay tuned...

I promise I'll tell what's up once I quit being this heated.

Warning: Under 17? Fuck off (hey, I'm just following orders).

Why? Because I say:
"shit" 23x's
"fucking" 15x's
"fuck" 9x's
"hell" 6x's
"bitch" 5x's
"pain" 3x's (ok, then... I guess this thing's being considered some sort of... fetish thing)
"skanky" 2x's (oh, give me a break! how do they know I wasn't talking about the dance move?)
"whore" 1 time

I wonder if that's for real... or do they have any other words skipped... because I can swear I've cussed more than that (haha... that was a funny phrase).

I'll say it time and time again: I've tried cutting back on the potty mouth... but... I've just come to terms knowing that's just how I am, and how I'll always be.
It's a trait passed down from generation to generation... you know... cause you hear it all the time.
There will always be that one girl in the family who swears like a sailor while the rest of the family is well mannered (although I am well-mannered... I only cuss once I'm comfortable, so people should really take it as a compliment).
My grandma was the cusser in her family, Mom was the cusser in her family, and I'm the cusser in mine. Poor offspring of mine... they're doomed.

At least I can still control myself in front of children (I have caught myself dropping the F-bomb--multiple times-- in front of the daycare at the gym. Baaaad!).

Anyway... nice to know no people under 17 should be reading this thing.
Hahahaha... I'm bad (if you know me... that'll be unbelievably ironic. I'm a fucking lamb, I tell you! I just punch, kick, scream, and cuss when provoked... but that takes effort from the other party's behalf. Seriously... what do you expect from a chick born and raised in the ghetto?).

P.S. Full moon tonight!! Holler! (and here I thought the Blue Moon occurred last month! But it would have been cooler had this occurred while I was in Mexico. Man... now I've made myself sad)