Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Your beautiful and your god is an asshole

So things once again have hints of improvement in my life, but lord know I ain't sold on it. Why? Because the last couple things I've written have just been plain angry. Not satirical, no humor, just pissed off because I think it's a load of bull shit that I'm suppose to hope. When do I get something to hope about? After I get pissed.

Faith, fuck that.

I'm sorry, but it feels like I've been awarded for passive aggressive behavior. Even if I'm in the right by telling all my friends to grow a fucking backbone [and it's only inadvertently passive because so many phone numbers have changed and I don't have many tangible relationships (and some could say I have zero in that category)], anger was the prevalent emotion.

Perhaps too much Eastern pinches of philosophy, knowing that the poser named Jesus (not the piercer but the pierce one known as the messiah) never got angry (he just got tough in the temple), and Stacia making sure that I would never get angry (and if I took her lead, I can only be angry if I was cute about it), but it is the one emotion I cannot tolerate.

Unless it's about the fucking White Sox, I am out to be the mother fucking Jedi master. Fear is something I have enough problems dealing with. Do you think I can really handle anger...let alone hate and suffering?

What I am getting to is that the power that be is an asshole, and lets face it is really undeserving of anyone....
Just pausing because I am confused where to place this blog. Should be on this personal blog one because I am talking about the ways of my fucked up maze? Should be on http://harshside309.blogspot.com because I am attacking the fabric of the most hypocritical of society? Or should be on http://rohmobile.com because despite the flaws that almost make it as bad as "Pirate Radio," watching "Persepolis" fuels my discontent with the big guy.
He is either rewarding me for being a prick or he is keeping up with his sick sense of humor. If putting me in a house where I can't have a cat and a racist mother who doesn't want me to leave weren't torture enough.

Either way, God is an asshole. Never reward the cunts, tax the fuck out of them. And if someone tells me to lay off certain jokes, I'll go out of the way to knock that shit off (no guarantees of course).

So, I'm confused, and I need some fucking guidance, and I do not want to take it from anyone who wants to put God in their bibliography. Can somebody please step up?

If you are pissy about how I'm acting towards the big fella, helping me out may be God's will.

I guess it would be nice.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Thanks for the abandonment assholes

I thought I had written in my last blog that I need people to just accept the fact that I am fucking hopeless. To tell me just to fuck off. I forgot that I'm so much easier to just fucking ignore.

Hey, I'm sorry that most of the shit I blog about is how shitty my life is. Sorry you won't take the time to accept that this is more than a pity trip. Just fuck me for my opinion pieces being dedicated to ICC's school newspaper that won't fucking help itself.

The world is fed up with me, I should get that, but again I hate relying on fucking implications.

Read the rest of the blog at MainEventoftheDead.com and let me know if my humor, satire and movie knowledge can translate into a B-Movie comedy about zombies and pro-wrestling.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Is it that hard to say fuck off?

Been popping more ativan and it isn't just because of the new job. It is just because hope keeps trying to prove that it exist. I'm not saying it doesn't exist, but to me it is nothing more than a cruel mistress. Like I need anymore of them.

Perhaps things are turning around for me. I can move out of the cell that my parents and older sister provide me with, I can finally have a cat of my own, but in the end the inevitable question is what is next.

Does anyone really see me making friends at a call center? Everyone who doesn't understand that the cog in the in a functioning machine doesn't get to tell the operator shit just seem to sensitive. The training class turned on me for being a true Cubs fan (which demands an abandonment of the Southside) and being a gentlemen.

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All the friends I had from local wrestling have abandoned me. My best friends seem to have just grown up. Others have wisely moved beyond Peoria, so every time I go out, I'm alone.

It was Soul Asylum who said "Nothing attracts a crowd, like another crowd"

Read the rest of this blog and determine if I am well enough to produce a B-Movie comedy about Pro-Wrestling Zombies at http://maineventofthedead.com

Friday, December 4, 2009

A week off unemployment. Another week of zero production.

I just can't do this day shit. Work 8.5 and then go to bed to do it again? It isn't like that gives me time for fun since older sister is territorial as long as she's awake. I just need that second shift, bar, bed.

Which I won't be getting till freaking January. Five weeks of training at Affina/Ryder, two of which are orientation. I like getting paid to do nothing, but it is painful when we nothing is produced from it.

With how things are shaping up, I can't get the fuck out of the folk's place till February. Since we will just are training till January 4 (at the earliest) we can't get paid for the holidays, so I'll have one check as a deposit from this month and the rest goes towards bills. If Mom gets a piece of this as rent for living here (thanks big sis for setting that standard), I'll be lucky to move out by March.

Oh yeah, China's a no go. That clears me to beat the crap out of Maris right^_- Can I at least air freight his butt back to the Soviet block? I'll put holes in the box. Or maybe I can use his accent and knowledge of five languages to accuse him of being an Al Qaeda recruiter.

So when it comes to transferring to U of I, well that's gotta wait till 2011. At least till my lease or I run up. Let the countdown to extinction begin. I see myself either ending up as the crazy cat person, or like Tommy from "Trainspotting". Hell, I may start breeding kitties for the toxoplasmosis. Better that than ending up in "Dog Soldiers"

This is my life, and it is ending one day at a time. Any suggestions on speeding it up.