Oh, wtf mates.

Sometimes, it annoys me that I chose to start this blog instead of a real one.

don’t get me wrong – i love this blog. i love ranting and raving and puking (oh my!).

i think my original idea for this blog was genius.
and, even though some of the posts aren’t as wonderful or humorous as they could be, some of them (for instance, the public restroom post or the medication side-effects post – my favorites) are real gems.
once in a while, i can be pretty damn funny.
sometimes, i even incite a few actual lols – loling in real life, that is.

however, sometimes i find myself wanting to tell some fun, real-life stories.
like the time we took the kids to a carnival and my son, pointing to the zipper, exclaimed, “THAT RIDE SCARES THE FUCK OUT OF ME!”
or how my daughter dances on command, or claps whenever there is applause on tv (and how amazing and wonderful it is that she is walking now, and how proud and excited she is when she does it).
or when Dr. Hoxter and i are playing halo, and wind up on maps and/or with people we don’t like, so we just throw sticky grenades at ourselves or jump off of cliffs the entire game. or do synchronized dancing.
or how Twinny and i call everyone we play with John.

sometimes i’d like to share poetry or short stories and shit.
lord knows, i have a shit-ton of that crap to share.
i mean sure, there’s the poetry club…but i’m constantly writing, and the club only does one ‘share’ a week, and most of what i write is completely unrelated to the topic at the time.

and then there are nights like tonight, where i feel a powerful urge to vent about real life.
to just sit down at the computer and let it all out through my fingertips…all the cold, bitter, pathetic truths that come out after midnight, in the dark.
like the fact that i can’t find that ONE missing sock in the laundry.
or that this bar stool hurts my lower back like a bitch, and makes one or both of my legs go numb when i sit here for too long.
or how most of the time i prefer to be alone…but at night, when i turn off the light and climb into my king-sized bed, i am so utterly and painfully lonely.

Sometimes, I think about starting a ‘real’ blog.

But let’s be real: who the fuck would read it?

and honestly, the times i legitimately feel like writing something profound or worthwhile or witty are too few and far between to keep people interested, i think.
those…two people who might actually read it to begin with.

Nights like tonight, though, I secretly wish I could blog as Me, and not Miss Puke.
you know, so i could talk about all my feelings and emotions and shit.

but alas…i’ve made a commitment to keep this thing going. i’ve no plans of stopping anytime soon.
and you do have my word that i will try to post more often. with actual humorous subject matter. promise.

and don’t worry, i also promise not to clutter up this blog with my feelings.

God, I’m such a sappy emo fuck!

cool/uncool… WTF, MATE??

you know what i can’t stand?

music snobs.

you know the type.

anything that has ever been played on any radio station is SOOOOO not cool enough for them.

they find the most random, obscure bands to listen to.. and i don’t even think they actually care if the music is good or not, they just like them because nobody else does. they’re just so fucking hip like that.

and they always have something to say about the bands you like, don’t they?

‘oh, they totally sold out’ ….shut the fuck up.

i love it when bands ‘sell out’ because they got popular. or because they got signed to a major record label. or because their songs start getting radio play.

sorry dude, but isn’t that the whole fucking point of it all?

nobody starts a band thinking, ‘i hope no one ever listens to this. i hope i’ll always play shows for the same 5 friends of mine for the rest of my musical life!’

it’s one thing, of course, to play music for the sole purpose of getting rich. but getting popular, ‘making it big’ as they say in the biz (they do say that in the biz, right?) is a GOOD THING.

get the fuck over yourself and be happy for your obscure band for finally having a fan base.

that pisses me off, too… the assholes that really really love a band, then stop listening to them and start talking shit when they get popular. they’re still the same fucking band! no one else is allowed to enjoy them, because you did first??

i don’t get it!!!!

loosen up your skinny jeans, polish your black-rimmed glasses, unbutton your flannel and CHILL THE FUCK OUT.

movie snobs are just as bad.

sure, i like your artsy-fartsy, noir bullshit sometimes.. but don’t fucking judge me for enjoying dirty dancing: havana nights!

diego luna is adorable, and it’s a fun movie. leave me alone!

you don’t always have to like the obscure to be cool. sometimes, a lot of people like cool things. and that’s okay.

everybody loves will smith, but that doesn’t make him any less cool!

everybody loved the beatles, and they just progressively got cooler and cooler.

and everybody loves raymond, too!

i’ll give you a little credit, snobs. there are some things that are popular that really are dumb as shit. examples:

dancing with the stars.

nutty professor movies.

ke$ha (i felt like a jack-ass just typing that stupid fucking dollar sign).

justin bieber.

capitalism.

but not EVERYTHING that is well-loved is bad or uncool. examples:

puppies.

ice cream.

christmas.

the color red.

…did i mention will smith?

arrogance is a big turn-off for me, in general. people who think they’re better than everyone else are usually the scum of the fucking earth (and, on occasion, the worst scum of the universe).
but people who think they’re cooler than everyone else REALLY annoy the fuck out of me.

first of all… who the fuck cares if you’re cool? are we still in fucking high school?
come to think of it, i didn’t care if i was cool when i was in high school, either so.. so yeah!

and second.. being uncool is cool, anyway.

jeans that are soft and worn out and a little baggy because they’ve been loved – cool.

skinny jeans that are so tight we can make out the outline of your dick – uncool.

jeans with ripped knees from years of wear-and-tear – cool.

jeans that you bought, pre-ripped – uncool.

female hair that looks better than mine – bitches.

male hair that looks better than mine – uncool.

my grandmother’s old sunglasses – cool.

old lady glasses that you paid $200 for – uncool.

promoting your favorite artists to help them get popular – cool.

calling someone a sell-out because they have more than 20 fans – uncool.

not eating meat because you don’t like eating meat – cool.

becoming vegan because this bitch you want to fuck is – uncool.

being vegan, and having omnivorous friends – cool.

being vegan, and preaching about the horrors of meat while i’m trying to enjoy a hamburger – uncool.

sitting on a birthday cake in a bikini – cool.

flashing your boobs for beads – uncool.

donating a dollar (or more!! :D) to an awesome and talented guy – very, very cool.

not donating anything – extremely uncool.

i mean.. i really really, REALLY want to sit on a birthday cake in a bikini. i’ll probably still do it, regardless.. but i’d love to record it and share it with the world.

and more so – being most sincere and serious – i want to help my bestie do this very awesome thing. so i’m not going to shut up about it for the next 20 days or so.

and i’m sure you know, by now, how obnoxious i can get.

so if you want to keep me from getting ridiculously, wanting to strangle me, pulling out your hair obnoxious… just pledge a dollar. share the link with your friends. share it with strangers. spam popular pages with it on facebook. you get the idea.

and if you do any of that, you will forever be cool as FUCK!