Slapping is a good thing.
Well I am such the anti-blog blogger that I cannot even get my arse to this site and write more than once every 6 months. I am going to try harder though. There is so much stuff to complain about. The interesting thing is that in the flesh world I am the optimist, the girl at the party with the jokes and elbow nudges, yes I am annoying. Optimistic but a pain in the bum I am sure.
Here however, on the techno underbelly of this cyber reality I feel totally and utterly pissed off with the world. No, not the world but a lot of the people that scuttle about on the planet surface.
This is my outlet. As lets face it, if I was like this at the party or coffee shop somebody would have slapped me by now.
Slapping...
Now there is something that should come back into fashion. A nice swift open hand slap is a good way to show someone that they are a bastard ( or hysterical) . You don't see it much in movies nowdays, we have moved onto semi-automatics and WMD. There is no elegance to weapons, except of course swords, but they too have fallen out of favour. Wouldn't it be lovely if suddenly across middle America the gun racks in 4x4's all became Rapier holders?
Who needs to be slapped?
Many people out there need a good slapping.
I shall compile a small 'slapping list' of people that I think would be benefited by the taste of the back of my hand ( though the back of my hand isn't officially a slap).
I could say President Bush, but everyone would say that, so I say Barbara Bush. She has a lot to answer for and I think she also is a big part of the problem.
So Babs, next time I see you I suggest you hold fast to the lapels of your Chanel suit and brace yourself ... Here comes Mrs Palmer and her 5 daughters.
Every woman who has ever acted in a tampon commercial. Yes. Every one of those happy, slo-mo skipping, bikini wearing, anorexic, clear skinned, horse riding, happier than a clam women. What I want to know is when was the last time any of them actually had their period? Hmmm...
WHEN! ? Why can't they demand to act like it really is. I want real actresses showing me what it's really like. I want to see a curled up , moaning mess on the couch with an cornucopia of muscle relaxants on the table. 3 hot water bottles positioned around her pelvis , with her face the palor of encroaching enemia.
I want Meryl Streep to show the world the truth.
Tucker Carlson. Need I explain?
My ex girlfriend.
Who is now back to dating boys. Of course I could look at this 2 ways.
1st way: "Oh fluffmuppet... How could I possibly find another woman like you ( she places her hand to her forehead) . Alas, I know that I cannot... Therefore I must return to the boy ranks."
2nd way: " Wow , dating girls really blows. I am outa here."
Bugger it, love is crap.
No really it is. This is not just my bleeding, ripped apart heart talking. No. This is the voice of reason.
Love is not what gets sold to you when you get into a relationship. Real Love is like a rumour, an urban myth, like pure MDMA.
You might be wanting it when you hand your money over, but the chances are you are going to get a jaw grinding, gritty speed trip.
Say No to Love. Unless you can be 100% sure of your dealer. Let's face it, who can be?
Love Pushers abound. They are far worse that the Sex Pushers. We all know when we see an Old Spice ad we know that guy isn't real, and those 2 hot chicks in the elevator with him are not going to give him a blow job between the lobby and 28th floor because he smells good.
However when we see a couple holding hands in Central Park for a dating service commercial there is this little part of us that blossoms with a little hope that we too can have that.
Unfortunately most 'Love' affairs are laced with insecurity, jealousy, ownership etc...
You see Love is a drug. And the pure stuff is so so rare that it's best to keep away totally.
Like my junkie aunty once told me " It's not the heroin that fucks you up, its the shit they cut it with". Before now I never saw the true wisdom in that statement.
When it comes to love, you gotta trust your dealer. The only person you can be sure of is yourself which leads me to my bumper sticker conclusion.
Love yourself.
Now someone needs to slap me... I just made myself sick.
Here however, on the techno underbelly of this cyber reality I feel totally and utterly pissed off with the world. No, not the world but a lot of the people that scuttle about on the planet surface.
This is my outlet. As lets face it, if I was like this at the party or coffee shop somebody would have slapped me by now.
Slapping...
Now there is something that should come back into fashion. A nice swift open hand slap is a good way to show someone that they are a bastard ( or hysterical) . You don't see it much in movies nowdays, we have moved onto semi-automatics and WMD. There is no elegance to weapons, except of course swords, but they too have fallen out of favour. Wouldn't it be lovely if suddenly across middle America the gun racks in 4x4's all became Rapier holders?
Who needs to be slapped?
Many people out there need a good slapping.
I shall compile a small 'slapping list' of people that I think would be benefited by the taste of the back of my hand ( though the back of my hand isn't officially a slap).
I could say President Bush, but everyone would say that, so I say Barbara Bush. She has a lot to answer for and I think she also is a big part of the problem.
So Babs, next time I see you I suggest you hold fast to the lapels of your Chanel suit and brace yourself ... Here comes Mrs Palmer and her 5 daughters.
Every woman who has ever acted in a tampon commercial. Yes. Every one of those happy, slo-mo skipping, bikini wearing, anorexic, clear skinned, horse riding, happier than a clam women. What I want to know is when was the last time any of them actually had their period? Hmmm...
WHEN! ? Why can't they demand to act like it really is. I want real actresses showing me what it's really like. I want to see a curled up , moaning mess on the couch with an cornucopia of muscle relaxants on the table. 3 hot water bottles positioned around her pelvis , with her face the palor of encroaching enemia.
I want Meryl Streep to show the world the truth.
Tucker Carlson. Need I explain?
My ex girlfriend.
Who is now back to dating boys. Of course I could look at this 2 ways.
1st way: "Oh fluffmuppet... How could I possibly find another woman like you ( she places her hand to her forehead) . Alas, I know that I cannot... Therefore I must return to the boy ranks."
2nd way: " Wow , dating girls really blows. I am outa here."
Bugger it, love is crap.
No really it is. This is not just my bleeding, ripped apart heart talking. No. This is the voice of reason.
Love is not what gets sold to you when you get into a relationship. Real Love is like a rumour, an urban myth, like pure MDMA.
You might be wanting it when you hand your money over, but the chances are you are going to get a jaw grinding, gritty speed trip.
Say No to Love. Unless you can be 100% sure of your dealer. Let's face it, who can be?
Love Pushers abound. They are far worse that the Sex Pushers. We all know when we see an Old Spice ad we know that guy isn't real, and those 2 hot chicks in the elevator with him are not going to give him a blow job between the lobby and 28th floor because he smells good.
However when we see a couple holding hands in Central Park for a dating service commercial there is this little part of us that blossoms with a little hope that we too can have that.
Unfortunately most 'Love' affairs are laced with insecurity, jealousy, ownership etc...
You see Love is a drug. And the pure stuff is so so rare that it's best to keep away totally.
Like my junkie aunty once told me " It's not the heroin that fucks you up, its the shit they cut it with". Before now I never saw the true wisdom in that statement.
When it comes to love, you gotta trust your dealer. The only person you can be sure of is yourself which leads me to my bumper sticker conclusion.
Love yourself.
Now someone needs to slap me... I just made myself sick.
posted by D. at Tuesday, October 19, 2004
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