Two stupid lists that no one cares about.

Things I hate:
School
Work
My broken phone
My bruised shin
My missing tweezers
Cold wind
Dieting
Unpaid bills
Unpacking
My split ends
Procrastination
Stupidity
Boys
8 o'clock classes

Things I like:
Battlestar Galactica
Vitamin E
No class after 10 am Friday
My gray hairs
Baby carrots
Blankets
Socks
Financial aid
Friends and family
Catching up
Randomly nice strangers
Infomercials
Peppermint body wash
Keeping a journal

In the inimitable words of Jon Stewart.

To the guy who left 5 books sitting out for me to shelve at midnight, the raincloud that froze me half to death, the girl in my class who talks about her stupid fucking life all the time, and the douchebag who wanted to know why I don't like Sarah Palin, but got too wasted to hear my answer:

Fuck all y'all.

I don't need a weatherman.

Why I hate fall: Dry, cold weather means I actually have to moisturize.
Why I love fall: It's fall.

Apparently there aren't enough real things to annoy me.

Listen, myspace. When I log onto your terribly-addictive website, I do not want to google something. If I wanted to google something, I would probably fucking google it. But you have deemed it necessary to initially insert my cursor into the search field at the top of the page. Meaning that I have to click elsewhere on the webpage in order to scroll down with my keyboard arrows. This may seem like a minor thing, and trust me, in the grand scheme of things, it is more minor than minor. However, it's annoying to go to a website that has millions of users and have this stupid thing happen as soon as the goddamn page loads. Unfortunately, it's not enough of an annoyance to keep me away.

You may not wanna read this

because I plan on bitching about being a woman. So if you don't want to read about my uterus, leave now.

Having a period sucks. There's no way around it. It's painful, it's gross, nothing good comes from it. Here's what it's like: About a week before, I start crying for no good reason. More than once a day. I think I must just be going nuts, and then I realize what time of the month it is. It's not as though this is actually useful information, it doesn't make me want to stop crying any less, rather, it makes me feel stupid to know that the only reason I'm weeping all the time is because of my hormone levels. Then my boobs get bigger and they start hurting. And not just a little bit, like oh, I shouldn't have moved in that direction, like OH MY GOD, I JUST WANT TO GET THE GODDAMN THINGS REMOVED BECAUSE I'M JUST SITTING HERE AND MY STUPID FUCKING MAMMARY TISSUE HURTS LIKE HELL. Then I get bloated, and none of my jeans fit me anymore. Then I get hungry, and no matter how much I eat, I'm still hungry, and of course I want food like entire bags of cheese puffs and pizza and french fries and candy. Basically anything that's not actually food is what I want to eat. And I want 4 servings of it.

Now, it's not until now that the bloating appears to subside. But it's all a sham, because as soon as I think that I'm not bloated anymore, I put on my jeans and they fit fine for half the day, but then I have to unbutton them for the drive home, because I literally can't breathe. Then the cramps start, and that's when I know I'm almost at the starting line. I'm nauseated for the first half of the day. I'm not hungry at all now, because of the upset stomach. But the upset stomach gets worse, and indigestion rears it's ugly head, and then my entire abdomen starts to hurt. Then I worry that I'm hungry because I haven't eaten all day, and that's why my belly hurts. And then when I'm doubled over in pain, I realize that these are not hunger pangs, but cramps, and I have to take 3 ibuprofen and wait 30 minutes for them to kick in.

What do menstrual cramps feel like? Imagine that someone with very sharp fingernails shoved their hands into your belly. Then they picked up anything they could find, this includes your uterus and your fallopian tubes and your digestive system, and they are twisting your guts. Oh, and before they started all that, they punched you in the stomach for half an hour. So you have the lingering pain of being punched, the stabbing pain of their fingernails, and the constant twisting of your internal organs which makes you want to curl up into a ball and die. Seriously. This is not funny, this is the hell I go through once a god-forsaken month. Even though I take advil, the pain never really goes away. There's always a dull pain even when I've taken way more than I should. I don't swing into an angry mood. If I'm angry towards anyone it's because I want to take sleeping pills and sleep until the pain goes away.

And the worst part of it is, I haven't actually started my period yet. That part, I won't even get into because it's disgusting. I mean, really, how gross is that? It's not fair either. I mean, guys just have a penis, something that is external, and they can piss and ejaculate out of the same hole. Worst that can happen is they get genital warts which I have a feeling are pretty gross or the clap which will just make gross stuff come out of their dick and it'll hurt when they pee for a while. But, all of those things are if they have sex with the wrong person and contract a disease. They don't automatically happen just because they're dudes. And that's not fucking fair at all. But whatever, I'm done complaining. I guess I just want a red tent chock-full of pain pills and muscle relaxants. And I'm never giving birth. And you can tell Eve I said to fuck off.

Agreed.

Source

Baghdad ass up.

To all the people who have arrived here by googling the phrase "what does baghdad ass up mean" or some iteration of that:

"Baghdad ass up" is a pun. It substitutes the name of the city, "Baghdad", for the words, "back that", because they are homophones (they sound alike, but do not mean the same thing). Back That Azz Up was a popular hip-hop song released in 1999 by the rapper, Juvenile, and the phrase has been referenced many times since in pop culture. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Back_That_Thang_Up

If you don't know what a pun is or anything about popular American music, I really can't explain it to you any better than I already have.

_______________________________________________________

I've been working out lately. Which sucks for obvious reasons, but is also pretty sweet. I don't really know what my goal is. I've never been too goal-oriented, let's be real. I guess I'm like all the other women on Oprah, I want to look better naked. And in clothes. And I want to be able to pick up heavy stuff with relative ease. Okay, so I actually just want to be intimidating. I mean, for some strange reason, I'm already intimidating personality-wise. (One of my co-workers told another co-worker that she was afraid of me.) But I'd like to be intimidating in the way that I can hang with the boys. And in the way that the boys think I'm really smokin' hot. That's kind of the dichotomy that has defined my life thus far. Even though I have mostly girl friends, I've always wanted to be one of the guys. And even though I want to be one of the guys, I want to be a super-fine ice queen, too. I think I'm confused. But I'm pretty sure I can give up trying to solve this quandary and settle for being stacked. That works. But of course, this story can't be complete without a setback, albeit a miniature one. The day after I start my new regime I also start my womanly curse, and now I'm too bloated to fit in my jeans. C'est la vie or whatever.

I think I might be through with you.

My holiday was filled with a hacking cough, a fever, and a congested nose. I've had bronchitis for almost two weeks now. But when I did decide to get out of the house, some good things happened. Some bad things happened, too, though. And I've decided that I'm finished. I'm finished going after boys that don't care about me and won't. I don't know why the only guys that are interested in me are the ones I'm not interested in. I don't know why that happens. And I don't know why I constantly put myself out there for people that don't reciprocate my feelings. But I am le tired. Tired of being let down over and over again. I know that I am good enough, and I know that I deserve to get what I want. That's why I usually don't let myself get too upset about the bullshit, and I pick myself up, and I try again with someone new. I'm just so frustrated. Not sexually, mind you, just frustrated with things that can only be blamed on my bad luck. And with my latest attempt, I was complaining about how nothing I was doing was working, and my friend asked me if I could afford to keep making the effort. I thought, yeah, of course, I have a lot of free time, and not any other prospects I want to pursue right now. But that's not what I have to worry about affording. It's not a matter of time, it's a matter of the emotional toll that this crap is taking on me. And I decided that I can't afford the emotional costs, I really can't. And so I'm done. I'm finished. And if you're reading this (which you're not because you're not interested enough to read my damn blog), fuck off.

And to my actual readers (both of you. . . ), sorry for this post, really. I feel like a teenager because I'm bitching about this shit. Either that or a divorcee. Anyway, I don't post whiny shit normally, I just needed to get this off my chest, you know? This is one of those times when I'm kind of glad I have a blog.

p.s. My life is way more awesome than yours.

This is a conversation that really, truly happened today. My friend wanted to set me up with a guy friend of hers. I saw pictures of him and expressed that I wasn't interested a while ago. (I hope that doesn't make me seem too shallow.) I thought you all would like to be privy to this conversation since misery loves company. Or in my case, the company I keep loves to revel in my misery. (Oh, and I'm not actually upset about it, this is quite honestly one of the funniest things that's happened in forever.)

"You know that guy that I was trying to fix you up with?" - my friend who shall remain nameless
"Yeah, what now?" - me
"Well, I guess he's into trannies." - friend
"Like transexuals? What the hell??" - me
"Yeah, he's like, dating one now." - friend
"I guess it probably wouldn't have worked out then." - me

(I can't make this stuff up. It's really great that I am now comparing myself to a she-male, this is super.)

She just thinks she's so damn smart.

I think I've started getting migraines. I'm not sure and I try not to diagnose myself anymore, because that is just so not helpful. But, my dad gets them and since he's passed on almost every negative aspect of his health to me already (depression, sleep problems, ADD, weak joints), I'm pretty sure that it's a possibility. So, I'm gonna do something crazy. . . go to the doctor. I know it sounds weird, but maybe I should listen to a guy who went to medical school and has experience treating medical conditions instead of looking up my symptoms on Wikipedia. (Not to mention that I already looked it up on Wikipedia and it said that coffee was both a trigger and a cure. It's hard to change my self-diagnostic hypochondriac ways, shut up.)

Mercy mercy me.

I have a really bad headache. And for two days I have felt like a moron. There are just no intelligent thoughts in my brain. I'm getting a little stir-crazy here, and a little boy-crazy. Something needs to happen to fix that soon. I'm trying, and I type that with complete seriousness.

Today I read something by someone I know that kind of made me feel like I suck at life. But looking back, I don't really think that's true, I think instead that overachievers make me feel less than great. I know some amazingly smart and driven people. That's a good thing, but it can be pretty humbling when I look in the mirror. Maybe someone thinks of me as an overachiever. That's a comforting idea.

Also, the only bands I've wanted to listen to lately are Gorillaz, Beck, Radiohead, and Marvin Gaye. And no, I don't have the new Radiohead yet. And two of those aren't bands. I feel un-good. G'night.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

To talk about their feelings. Instead of having lots of boys fall in love with me, I have lots of boys who fall in platonic love with me. I can't tell you how many guys have spilled their guts to me, telling me about their relationships, and how their girlfriends are crazy, and then they want to be bff with me. Uh, hi, I don't give a shit. From my experience, yeah, girls are pretty psycho. But the only reason that's not said as often about boys is because they're better at hiding it. For some reason, I tend to draw out the crazy in people of both sexes. I guess I'm an equal opportunity conversationalist. I know I'm a really awesome person, and I'm intelligent and sensitive, and I know that no one gets you like I do, but please, sometimes a girl's just tryin' to get some. I realize that I display a lot of typically male traits: common sense, directness, umm, I'm better at science and math than other subjects. But this doesn't mean that I'm your guy friend.

The fact is that the vast majority of my friends are women. And, trust me, they take full advantage of my available ear, too. Anyway, I suppose I'm complaining because I haven't had this problem in awhile. And now that it's cropped up again, I don't really know how to handle it. I guess, since I'm such an understanding person, I feel that I should receive some sort of compensation. So boys, if you want a bff who will listen to your girlfriend woes, you better make sure to get me drunk first. What's the name on your tab?

I gots to quit drinking.

I sort of have a social life again, and it's seriously about to kill me. I'm too old for this shit. I wasn't that hungover this morning, but after driving for 3 hours, it started to kick in. Also, I have to stop being a fucking idiot. Seriously, I am the dumbest person I know. I woke up at 8 to drive back to Knoxville and work. I get to work only to remember that I asked for today off a few weeks ago. Maybe it's time to get a calendar.

Okay, here are my summer resolutions:
1. Don't finish off the whole bottle of wine in one night.
2. Take advil before going to bed when drunk.
3. Drink lots of water when out.
4. Buy a calendar.
5. Use the calendar.
6. Sleep less.
7. Take vitamins.
8. Don't eat Krystal, Taco Bell, et cetera when wasted.
9. Actually, no fast food at all, ever
10. Don't take a shot of Jager right before the bar closes.
11. Don't text friends when wasted. You're not that funny.
12. Realize that even though beer has calories, it is not a sensible dinner.
13. Don't buy people drinks.
14. Stop taking medicine on an empty stomach and then wondering why you feel sick.
15. Finish a book.
16. Figure out how to achieve world peace.

Wow. That's a pretty long list. Damn. I don't know if I can really do all of that. But anyway, I'll give it a shot.

Lady-like isn't what I was going for.

What is up with this southern custom of women letting men do whatever they want? I especially notice it with the younger women at UT and it makes me want to puke. The whole "ladies' southern charm" thing is a given, but the purpose of that charm is to get men to do what you want, not the other way around. Of course, leave it to east Tennessee to be more backwards than the other states in the south. I just don't get it. I guess it's just a courtesy thing, but I see it as a 'doormat' kind of thing.

Why should women do favors for men when they'll gladly do favors for us? After all this time, women still get paid less, and the reasoning behind this is that with pregnancy, women are more likely to take extra time off. In a given year, what's the percentage of women in the workplace that get pregnant? Please tell me because, unless it's 100%, there's no way that all women in America should be paid less simply because they are capable of reproducing. So for this reason alone, women should see men as an opportunity to get some payback for lower wages.

But here in Knoxville, girls lug their boyfriends' laptops back for me to check in. They get them drinks at Starbucks, but no, they don't want anything. They help them study, while neglecting their own classes. They let their boyfriends feel smart by pretending not to know the answers in class.

Which is all fine, I suppose I shouldn't judge. However, I can't help but feel that the negative connotation of 'feminist' is partially to blame for this anti-feminist behavior. But whatever, I probably don't even shave my armpits, right?

What if I were to start screaming right now?

Please, let this semester end soon. I'm sick of the library with all these whiny, bratty kids. I need a vacation. And a nap. I miss my friends. Even the ones who live in Knoxville.

Whatever, man, you're fucking sick.

So, I'm sick. Hence the blogging on Friday night. (I swear. I really did have some invites to go out tonight.) I'm actually kind of angry because I have been very sympathetic towards all these sickies while maintaining my distance, and now the bastards have given the disease to me. The common symptom for this unknown illness seems to be extremely swollen, painful lymph nodes. Anyway, let's get down to business. I need to drug myself and go to sleep.

I've decided that I will no longer hang out with couples. For some reason, (I have probably already touched on this earlier) people who are practically strangers tend to see me as the confidante they've never had. I don't know whether I seem understanding or non-judgmental or what. I'm none of these things. I don't understand things I haven't experienced personally and I make unfair judgments about every person I meet. Perhaps because I am very self-absorbed and I tend to relate everything to myself, people confuse this with understanding, or at the very least, interest. But the truth is I'm only interested in myself. The other flaw one will encounter when confiding in me is that I'm completely untrustworthy. I wouldn't be able to keep a secret if my life depended on it. It's not my fault, I just feel the need to tell everyone everything I know and think.

Anyway, so since I'm apparently the best (and by best I mean absolute worst) choice of person to tell your innermost secrets, this is where the couple problem happens. My friend will tell me some information, which they do not mention is private and they don't tell me to keep to myself. So of course, I naturally assume that they have already told their significant other. I mean, when you're sleeping with someone on a regular basis and planning a life with them and forcing me to hang out with them too, I guess I just think that occasionally the two of you would actually talk about things. Maybe that's crazy. I sure as hell don't have the relationship experience to be making these assumptions, but my experience as a human being with a multitude of non-romantic relationships leads me to believe that this is not a ludicrous idea. Even if I only recall my limited experience in romantic endeavors, I know for a fact that in (how shall I put this?) intimate moments, some people allow private thoughts to slip.

So then your boyfriend buys me shot after shot, and I bring up a topic I assumed he was familiar with. You are not allowed to get mad at me. Seriously. It's not okay. If you don't want to be honest with the guy you have insisted I befriend, then don't fucking tell me anything, or even better, don't insist that he tag along. And seriously, do us all a favor, and break up with the poor guy. After this long explanation, my decision is that I will no longer be pushed into an uncomfortable situation by one or both members of a couple. I don't give a shit. Fix it your damn self. I'm not your god-forsaken therapist.

So that's it. Enough anger to keep my blood pressure up until Sunday. Quick question: does anyone on fucking myspace know how to spell ridiculous? Because right now, I'm not convinced anyone does. Alright, now it's cold medicine time. Every time I take NyQuil, I get exactly six hours of sleep. Is it odd that I know that?