I Will Stab You In Yo Face

Yup, this is gonna be a rough one.  I must expel this negative festering of my soul to you, the multitudes(by that I mean you three people who follow my ravings and incessant rantings), before I am wholly  consumed and turned to an effervescent pile of pungent puke.  It has come to my attention that the majority of the world does not understand what it means to exist in public.  Public means: "Of, concerning, or affecting the community or the people."  It does not pertain to how loud and obnoxious a person can become because the space they are currently inhabiting is substantially larger.  I had a conversation this evening which illustrates the latter:

Bitch in native tongue: "Blahblah blah blahblahblah blah blah blah, at the top of her lungs for five minutes and then proceeded to hand the phone off to her equally annoying husband for five minutes more."  (Note: So I gave them the fucking opportunity to smarten up and move along.)
Me: "Excuse me, could you please take your conversation to another aisle, I can't concentrate with you talking directly behind me."
Bitch:  "It's a PUBLIC PLACE."
Me: "You are exactly correct.  That's why it is so important for you to show the utmost respect for the other people taking part in this PUBLIC PLACE."
Bitch:  "Another language, laughter, than final departure, on her own goddamn time of course."

Yes, a public place is designed for the public.  Living in a city however deems it extremely relevant to be courteous to those that we share this space with.  Cell phones drive me nuts on a regular basis anyhow, but these morons crossed a line.  Arguing the futile point that essentially they can act in the most obscene and manner-less fashion is not a rebuttal to my simple and ethical treatment of their flood of rude.  Being in a public place is exactly the reason to shut the fuck up and treat others with dignity.  I go out of my goddamned way every moment of the day to treat others exceptionally well.  Has the world gone mad?  We claim a universal space as our own, piss all over it, and then expect others to accept our urine as unwavering ownership.  I did not own that area of the store anymore than this couple did.  Nor did I have delusions of where I was or how I was conducting myself.  Why were they confused?  Why did Bitch not immediately apologize and waddle on to another space to piss in?  Instead I received petulance, argument, and aggression all neatly filled in a pee filled balloon and promptly tossed in my face.  Well, I see your pee filled balloon and I raise you a fist with keys lodged between my digits.  More than anything it makes me sad.  Perhaps I should have said nothing and allowed this rudeness to go unanswered.  Perhaps I should have just begun to punch...physical violence always rights the wrong, right?  I feel like the worlds mother in that, so many adults who should know better, simply, do not.  Therefore, I must right the ignorant attitudes of those whose parents kept such knowledge from them.  This is how terribleness begins and I will forever make it my goal in life to end the urination before it starts...

Grass Does Not Need You, To Be Green

We have a great many folly, we the people.  None more so than our tendencies towards gluttony and selfishness.  I believe these two detrimental qualities make excellent bedfellows.  As a result, the butt sex the two have feverishly been partaking in, has created a new breed of awful with an insatiable hunger which permeates our society and makes us look like real dicks...not unlike the butt baby's which possess several oozing beef bayonets...on it's skull.  We waste a lot of resources in the west:  Food, materials, life, time, each other and now it's come to my attention, though under my nose for years, that what we abuse the most may soon be gone forever.  There are people in the world, this world, who do not have water to drink.  They do not have direct access to clean drinking water.  I repeat:  They do NOT have water to drink...let alone water to shower with, wash clothes in, dump down the drain when the temperature does not suit us and most aggravating of all, water to throw on the ground.  We have such an attitude of entitlement that our grass is graced with hours of preening while our resources run thin and most go without.  Is status so essential in our world that our grass must represent fertility and extravagance at the cost of lives and eventual survival?  Do those people who water every day not think about what they throw away on foliage that does not require us to thrive?  Water will run out.  This is not a theory or some happening in the distant future, but an axiom of anxiety.  There are far too many of us to support our need for H2-is-O and the water we do still occupy, we pollute with our other "necessities".  The earth would provide all we would ever need if we only cease to fuck with it.  I think about how much I waste on a daily basis...in the shower, washing the dishes...welcome to my brain of dysfunctional and perhaps irrational worry.  What boggles my mind is how no one else seems to think this way.  Maybe we all have that white picked fence version of how we want the world to be...kids frolicking in the sprinkler while mom sips ice filled pina colladas on the porch while running the washer, the dishwasher and dad sponges off the Cadillac.  Well, we lived that and look where we are now.  Those who go without must think us most ridiculous for we throw our precious life source on weeds to impress our friends and maintain the futility that is our societal (and imaginary) hierarchy of horror.  If the rest of you questioned your actions as often as I do mine, perhaps we wouldn't be up shit creek without water to rinse off the stank.

Honk On Bobo

Please people, try to understand...I am balancing precariously on two slender tires, moving at variable and often intense speeds...racing through confined spaces, competing for room with the immovable force that is a tonne of metal in various shapes, sizes and velocity's...sometimes zooming under poor lit and deafening overpasses.  I am trying not to lose my cool let alone my life when vying for a fraction of the space these gas guzzlers insist on utilizing, so I plead and ask ever so nicely...DO NOT FUCKING HONK YOUR IMMENSELY DISTRACTING AND OVERBEARING HORNS AT ME WHILE ATTEMPTING TO CUT ME OFF AT SPEEDS THAT WOULD ELEVATE MY PANCAKE-ED-NESS(?) TO FULL.  I do not believe I ask for much.  I am not a selfish person (most days).  All I long for is a tiny piece of the road to get from A to B without having the living shit scared from my bowels because you can't bear the thought of waiting 30 seconds for me to move past or fall behind.  Why is the western world in such a hurry?  We eat without savoring, we love without patience, we wish our days away-demanding something ever better, and we drive like the destination is chasing us with fire and brimstone.  I crossed a MARKED crosswalk yesterday.  I was even courteous enough to remove myself from my mode of transport, making my intentions unmistakably clear.  As I crossed the pavement, my ipod came undone from its holster and clamored to the ground.  Instead of waiting the 3.3 seconds it would have taken me to bend down and retrieve it, an SUV demanded it's right to speed on, refused to slow down, narrowly missing me. I jumped to the sidewalk for safety and the cocksucker, self important, environment destroying, oblivious manipulator of metal and fiberglass that outweighed me and my rockin cycle by, oh I don't know, several thousand pounds...proceeded to drive over my device without blinking an eye all the while exclaiming to it's passenger how I shouldn't be on the road.  Where should I be?  Riding the sidewalks gets you a ticket and pedestrians screaming at you to get on the provided bike trails, though exceptional in Calgary, do not get you to the shopping mart or liquor store.  Riding the bustling mean streets could get you killed because cars do not give you the respect nor the space required to safely maneuver the jungle of our "git er done" obsessed existence.  So where does that leave those who refuse to rely on gas operated death machines?  I choose cycling cuz it's great exercise, it's cheap, and I think living in a metropolis with everything in such close proximity negates the apparent necessity of a vehicle...and it's environmental implications, blahblahblah.  Why such little tolerance for those who choose better, smarter?  Does a vehicle give those a sense of value that using your own physical means cannot?  Are we so lazy and swaddled in our demand for efficiency and immediacy that we've forgotten that taking a little longer to get somewhere may serve us in the long run?  Serve us in a capacity that sustains a heart and soul with pride and patience?  We will never be happy if the speed in which we accomplish a task is the only goal set.  Our contentment levels will continue to plunge if beating our last time is the only place where our priorities reside.  Oh, and my ipod did indeed survive the haste of the SUV...this time.

One IS the Loneliest Number

My stupor aside, I have come to one conclusion regarding the human psyche...we are not solitary beings. We, like so many other species, enjoy grouping together. We group, we gripe and we go our separate ways, only to cluster another day. I have spent the last three days completely alone. Not altogether awful, as I have learned to enjoy my own company and the thoughts that most others try to escape from, I have gathered that gatherings are solely based on fear and insecurity. Though I long for the day of instigating my own "get togethers", you people are all full of shit. I anticipated quiet evenings out, making sweet sweet love to my chicken wings and pints of golden glory, but came upon something else indeed: Non-stop chatter of nothing that goes nowhere. Where do the smart people hang? Why is it so difficult to find stimulating and meaningful convo amidst the drunken masses? Therein lies the rub...smart people don't get wasted and speak of little for they have intelligent and stimulating conversations in secluded areas where the dullards aren't likely to tread. Perhaps I am too hard on humanity...or perhaps everyone is not hard enough on themselves. Seriously people, do you have any idea how absurd you sound? I may be all alone at my table scarfing down fried goodness and inhaling hoeegarden like no ever has, but my thoughts about the greatness of my meal are far more interesting to the world than the shit you've come up with. And I'm the single one? Ugh. I am going to get a dog. At least when I speak to him about deeper things his eyes will meet mine and although his understanding may not be all encompassing, he'll get that something more exists than gossip and bitching. Oh, how I long for those puppy eyes of seemingly vacancy yet depth beyond my wildest ramblings. Boys are easy to train in these methods, but they talk back with the nonsense I attempt to abstain from. Perhaps I shall attempt a coup of my brain and just drink it to retardation...then I'll fit in. Do I truly desire acceptance? Or just a partner in crime to ignore the nonsense and exchange knowing looks across a patio table set in the sunshine consumed by beer and chicken wings? Mmmmmm, beer and chicken wings...

Past Perfect

I am, like most individuals thinking and breathing for themselves, a creature of habit. It pains me to think this and even more to put it down in words the world can see and pass judgement on. It is however, a truth. Truths about yourself are tough. Admitting them is the toughest. I live in the past everyday. Out of habit I do believe. I have habitually trained my brain to think only of times and experience gone by...why, you say? Fear of the future, I suppose. Or perhaps, the past was just that shitting sensational that to remain there in a happier time keeps me afloat. Or, more likely, my regrets about this "joyous" time(for every time is joyous once it's passed), have simply bound me to it. This consistent need to relive what should be forgotten and forgivable times must come to an end. I want spectacular things for my life, now and in the near now. Focused on such former things, I feel no longer susceptible to a frighteningly superb future. How can I receive positive future experiences when I am stuck in a memory and reliving mistakes that the universe has already forgotten? I have spent so much precious time mourning, grieving, longing, and distressing over unfulfilled desires that the future seems bleak and distorted. I do not wake up daily excited to begin an adventure I know that's surely to come. How easily I could stop this. Like anything else in life, you fake it til you make it. Changing your thought patterns is as simple as one morsel, one tidbit of positive assertion to create a new path of thinking. Being present is something I've always found rather taxing. I think of the worst but hope for the best. Well hoping should not be a verb, it requires no action 'cept the crossing of ones fingers and toes. Perhaps that is why acting is something that chose me. I can lie with style and exist fully and completely in a single whisper, or look, or sequence of action. What was so great about my past anyhow? Sure good times were had, but as I recall, I often did not receive what I thought I wanted at the time, so who chooses to remain in a time of unfulfillment when I can finely tune new dreams and potentially achieve them with my newly trained behavior? I feel as though I am required to pay for past misjudgements with my future. It's as though I cannot let go the wrongdoings till I have given up enough of my present or future. Why can I not move past the past into the light of a new day, everyday? I wasn't perfect then and I sure as hell ain't perfect now and maybe coming to terms with that statement is what will project a new pattern for me on this green screen of a life.

"I'm Back, Baby!"

I feel more like myself than ever before...all it took was a new "do" and a fifth of some odd liquor,clear in substance, mixed with a delightful substance they call, seven. I miss Seinfeld. I hated and loved George, I believe that was the goal...efficient writing you magnificent bastard. I feel alive again. Drunk, but very much alive. I improved on my physical self, spent time appreciating that new version, kicking some serious ass, and than drowning it in beautiful forgotten bliss of the new age...vodka. I spent four hours today beating on a man who was wrapped in tons o' padding but relentlessly coming at me with vigor. It was the most empowering thing I have ever experienced. All I want to do is take that knowledge, priceless though somehow costing an arm and a leg, and reap it on some purely suspecting victim. I met two tonight. One brown guy asked me if I required a ride. I politely turned him down, as is our ever so cordial Canadian and womanly nature, only to have the fuckface follow my progress and inquire again later down the road. I lost it, "embiggened", (those of you who know me will get this one), with the ability to level a dude twice my size, I threw down like I use to during the old E-Town days, I screamed, swore, and wrote down his fucking licence plate. As the night progressed, another gentlemen(term I reserve for those lacking everything resembling this word), inquired as to my transportation as I was hoofing it. I stated rather clearly of my intent to pepper spray him and shouted his own plate back to him to alert him to my serious distaste of his awful and not so coded methods. I will not ever be a victim. In fact, upon my entry into my abode, I screamed, "I WILL NEVER BE A VICTIM AGAIN!" ....mouth full of two dollar pizza and all. I feel instilled with energy once more. I am no longer afraid, cautious, you bet...but the fear has been replaced by something so much more tasteful, assuredness. I don't get even, I get stabby. My power has returned, look out you late night creepy fucks, there is indeed something worse prowling around other than the law, and now I know my way around it...Side note: Not reacting but willing to act if the need ever arises...for mummers sake...

Bean Sprouts???

I have never been a fan. They have a supremely odd texture, their taste leaves something quite to be desired, they do not become nicer when cooked and they carry serious consequences for the well being of unborn children. They are potential baby killers people...I'd steer clear. Any type of sprout possessing such undesirable qualities should best be left alone, forgotten by society, and left to the asians...so many asians. Anyhow, this entry is not designed to hate on an entire race, religion or faction of humanity...just three girls who are brain damaged. That must be the reason, right? Three pushy, entitled, obscenely rude bitches who need to thus give their head a shake or two...til either the brain damage is righted or they destroy their ability to speak and rub off on society their unbelievable ways. What is missing from their lives that not garnishing their meals with baby killers sends them into a rage so nasty that I am left shocked and confused, hovering over a wok system wondering when courtesy has abandoned our society. What is missing from mine that I lose sleep over these super cunts? Perhaps their lives are just that full of greatness and harmony that the lack of bean sprouts became too much to bear. If you cannot endure the fact that there shan't be garnish on your meal and this sends you into a tirade of epic and confusing proportions, how must the rest of your day unfold? Do you treat all others in this manner, or just those you deem lower on the social totem pole than you? I have never treated anyone serving me so rudely, especially when the preparation of food is involved. Did your parents teach you this? Or, do you feel empowered to be horrible to others just in that circle of friends? I despise the fact that I am still required to be kind and generous to those who spit in or on my face because that's what I get paid to do. Well, it isn't, but our society seems to think that wanting what you want when you want it, and then receiving it promptly with perfection is the road to happiness and content. I regret to inform you once and for all, we are so far off the right path, we're starving and stumbling through brambles so high and prickly, our blood trail will be the only way in which to find us. I miss that about where I grew up. Everyone may know your business, but to your face manners run rampant. Of course there is an expectation for you to perform a fine task in your occupation, but none so high as the one you've placed on yourself. I am extremely hard on myself and my work ethic shows that...how dare you attempt to mess with that and embarrass me with your cowardice. These children were not spanked, it's time the wooden spoon was brought back into the home and utilized on wayward youths who refuse to adopt the simple human principles of respect and civility. It's truly astonishing how a very centralized group of people can eliminate any sense of positivity I had stirring in a single moment of caustic verbalization...maybe I need to use the spoon on myself...no vacancy and what not.