if I'm not fooling myself. if everything I believe is a lie. if the people who are closest to me are lying to me not just about little things like shagging slutty asian bimbos but big things like who they are and their capacity to lie about shagging slutty asian bimbos and their love for me. perhaps love is the wrong word because when you read about love you think something other than the capacity to tolerate someone (the "loved one") and their many faults for years on end.
then I repress these unpleasant possibly paranoid thoughts via vigorous housekeeping or having a smoke and manage to get on with my life for another wee while until the thoughts come again.
06 February 2006
05 February 2006
disgusting
how having a clean nest puts me in a good mood. my dorsal plates are itchy.
this avian flu. as a reptile I am most disturbed by it, seeing as how birds are my very close relatives. what? you say with surprise. birds and reptiles related? and yet if you only look at the disgusting scaly feet of your average fowl, the beady eye, the scaly red wattle, the feathers which are only modified scales, it is all too obvious. that's why people say alligator tastes like chicken. alligator is chicken's cousin.
here's the other thing. the french have a dish which is made of cockscombs. snails, I can handle. even foie gras which if you think about it is disgusting. but cockscombs. that droopy thing on the top of a birds head. it's enough to drive you straight into the arms of those braying retards at fox news.
this avian flu. as a reptile I am most disturbed by it, seeing as how birds are my very close relatives. what? you say with surprise. birds and reptiles related? and yet if you only look at the disgusting scaly feet of your average fowl, the beady eye, the scaly red wattle, the feathers which are only modified scales, it is all too obvious. that's why people say alligator tastes like chicken. alligator is chicken's cousin.
here's the other thing. the french have a dish which is made of cockscombs. snails, I can handle. even foie gras which if you think about it is disgusting. but cockscombs. that droopy thing on the top of a birds head. it's enough to drive you straight into the arms of those braying retards at fox news.
31 January 2006
vitriol
do you have a build up of hatred and bile? troubled by exasperation? try vitriol! vitriol purges poison, expels venom, and vents spleen -- so you don't have to!
vitrol. clears the air!
vitrol. clears the air!
30 January 2006
I have many complaints
in fact I have so many that sometimes I wonder that I have any friends at all. then I remember that I don't. well, hardly any. the ones I haven't alienated by telling them I'm sick of listening to their endless whining.
case in point: one ex friend, let's call her Superstar, she is a superstar at all she does. I believe it is called a Type A personality? so this was fine when she was gassing on about her work or career or whatever the hell it is she does. something to do with something. I don't really listen, I'm like winnie the pooh with owl, I just sit and say yes yes or no not at all at appropriate intervals.
so Superstar decides she's going to get pregnant with her fetus of a husband. I'm not kidding when I say fetus, he honestly looks prepubescent, with about three body hairs and small white child hands. said husband duly knocks her up according to plan. then she will not stop going on and on about her pelvic floor exercises and her braxton hicks contractions and all the books she's been reading up on the subject and how she's going to be this superstar expert on all things related to pregnancy and motherhood. sometimes she would pretend to ask me for advice and then when I gave her my opinion she would contradict it with something she'd read in a book or some study which had shown that no one was as fucking expert as she was.
now when I was pregnant did I bother her with all this shit? no I did not because it is not interesting. it is especially uninteresting to people who are not pregnant and who do not have children. or let me rephrase that, it is not interesting to people who are not busybodies or deeply invested in proving what experts they are. because I have a child and I am pregnant and I am still uninterested. will my children suffer because I can't be bothered talking about my cervix and my pelvic floor? somehow I don't think so.
anyway, Superstar pops her kids out -- they are twins, twice the joy! twice the martyrdom! twice the expert advice she can take on board and dispense! -- and promptly goes about making things difficult for herself. she's read something against pacifiers. she's read that pumping milk can lead to attachment disorder. she's read and she's read and she's read. I read somewhere that not trusting your own instincts and stressing yourself out with a lot of expert advice will lead you to turn into a sighing martyred asshole. This advice didn't go down very well.
case in point: one ex friend, let's call her Superstar, she is a superstar at all she does. I believe it is called a Type A personality? so this was fine when she was gassing on about her work or career or whatever the hell it is she does. something to do with something. I don't really listen, I'm like winnie the pooh with owl, I just sit and say yes yes or no not at all at appropriate intervals.
so Superstar decides she's going to get pregnant with her fetus of a husband. I'm not kidding when I say fetus, he honestly looks prepubescent, with about three body hairs and small white child hands. said husband duly knocks her up according to plan. then she will not stop going on and on about her pelvic floor exercises and her braxton hicks contractions and all the books she's been reading up on the subject and how she's going to be this superstar expert on all things related to pregnancy and motherhood. sometimes she would pretend to ask me for advice and then when I gave her my opinion she would contradict it with something she'd read in a book or some study which had shown that no one was as fucking expert as she was.
now when I was pregnant did I bother her with all this shit? no I did not because it is not interesting. it is especially uninteresting to people who are not pregnant and who do not have children. or let me rephrase that, it is not interesting to people who are not busybodies or deeply invested in proving what experts they are. because I have a child and I am pregnant and I am still uninterested. will my children suffer because I can't be bothered talking about my cervix and my pelvic floor? somehow I don't think so.
anyway, Superstar pops her kids out -- they are twins, twice the joy! twice the martyrdom! twice the expert advice she can take on board and dispense! -- and promptly goes about making things difficult for herself. she's read something against pacifiers. she's read that pumping milk can lead to attachment disorder. she's read and she's read and she's read. I read somewhere that not trusting your own instincts and stressing yourself out with a lot of expert advice will lead you to turn into a sighing martyred asshole. This advice didn't go down very well.
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