That Is So Un-American

My best friend Samantha has a lot of theories. About all sorts of things: random hook-ups (grow a penis, then it's ok.), drugs, god, patriotism (That is so un-American!) , school, work, friendship, family, and many more. Either one of two things is occurring here. She is a deeply philosophical being and is on level with great philosophers such as Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates. Or she just thinks too god damn much when she is high. Either way it's interesting the things we can come up with when we dig deep in our minds. Below you will find the definition of a theory:

Main Entry: the·o·ry
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural the·o·ries
Etymology: Late Latin theoria, from Greek theōria, from theōrein
Date: 1592
1: the analysis of a set of facts in their relation to one another
2: abstract thought : speculation
3 a: a belief, policy, or procedure proposed or followed as the basis of action b: an ideal or hypothetical set of facts, principles, or circumstances —often used in the phrase in theory

Personally I am a fan of definition #2. "Abstract thought or speculation". Isn't that what we all do? Abstract thought is possibly the best term I have ever heard to explain what happens when you are stoned into an oblivion. Speculation also describes many of the "theories" floating around today. The "theory" of evolution anyone? My "theory" on all of these theories is that we just want to understand. Samantha recently posted a blog about her theory on how we get closer to god and how god wants us to be on the same level as him and that is why humanity continues to learn and develop. She just wants to understand how to get closer to god. Makes perfect sense to me. You have an interest in a subject and no one else seems to make any sense when they discus it. You gather as much knowledge as you deem necessary and then you form your own speculations and abstract thoughts until they make sense to you. Thus a theory is born. So I suppose that Samantha is using the fundamental skills that it takes to learn. They don't necessarily have to be correct, the beauty of topics of theory is that no one is right. It allows you to feel as though you have solved one of the mysteries of life. That's all anyone wants, right? ( Samantha's life goal is to be rich and powerful. I suppose solving life's mysteries could fit into that...)

Pick Me. Choose Me. Love Me.

Update #2 on Gangster's Paradise: I don't know what to do. I'm dying inside. The before mentioned ex-boyfriend called again. He is unhappy with Prom Queen. He told me that she degrades him. Excuse me? That is absolutely unacceptable! He has worked so hard to get where he is, she will never understand the sacrifices he has made and the things he has been through. How dare she say he will never amount to anything. Then she proceeds to tell him that she is done with him and he should go find a stripper to be with and they can live in his storage shed. I wanna fuck this little dyke bitch up! 1) I am not a stripper! 2) We are clearly going to live in an apartment. 3) I wish I could see her face when she realizes that he actually might leave her for me. 4) Die Prom Queen! After all is said and done (20 min later) she will beg for him back and say she loves him and he can never leave her. Up until now I was trying very hard not to hate her because I don't know her. 17 year old bitch. She is crazy (he swears bi-polar), he is unhappy, he is still in love with me, he thinks we could be happy together, but he is trying to decide if he wants to leave Prom Queen and try again with me, or try to make it work with the crazy high school age bitch. I'm in a competition and there is nothing to do but wait. Who can wait him out and seem less crazy. (Obviously it's about the fact that we still love each other, but that bitch is crazy!) I love him. Always have, always will. He knows that. When he hung up the phone this afternoon he said "I love you baby." when he hung up. Hello! I win! Clearly I'm better than she is. I'm an adult for starters. I just can't understand how this is such a hard choice for him. He hates change, and I know that. But I feel like I am the obvious choice. God dammit. I just wanna be happy. To start life over again. I don't think I will survive if he decides to stay with her. I need this as much as he does. We both need to start over. Be happy. Be in love again. I'm not religious but I hope and pray I'm the one he needs. God please.

"Pick Me. Choose Me. Love Me."
-Meridith Grey

$79.99

Setting: Kohl's Department Store
Offense: Wrong Sale Sign
I would like to know how hard of a job it is to hang up the cream colored sale signs where they mother fucking belong! I'm sure it's not as easy as it sounds. Matching thousands of products to particular discounts and specials. I agree to cut a certain amount of slack. However, when the bitch at the counter rips into me because there is an incorrect sign and I refuse to pay the regular price for my ceramic flat iron, I draw the line. I needed a new straightener and had seen they were on sale in the add. So I proceed to go look at them. I had selected a Bed Head Ionic Ceramic 2" Flat Iron. Extremely nice hot pink model, was regularly $79.99. That is an outrageous sum of money, however I have a strong belief that you get what you pay for. There was a sign above the display that stated "All Electronic Hair Products: 15 - 50%". If you have ever shopped at Kohl's you know that sometimes on the sale signs it lists particular items followed by their new sale price. (For those people who can't roughly figure out what 15% of said item is. All I have to say is duh.) This particular sign had a general list of items all on the display, there were also several items not on the sign that were displayed. My coveted flat iron included. I get up to the register assuming that the product is 15% off because it is a more expensive item therefore will be a smaller percentage off. It rings up $79.99. I calmly say to the woman that the sign stated that All Electronic Hair Products were on sale. She flips out on me, accuses me of incorrectly reading the sign and then calls back to the dept. As we wait for them to call back with the price she rings out 3 other customers. Did I mention that it was Wednesday afternoon? (Which is Senior Day, kill me now.) They call back and say that not all the items are on sale. Excuse me? I'm not paying full price. The fucking sign says all! I proceed to get angry. Very angry. Long story short I got the flat iron for 15% off because I put the fear of god in that bitchy ass cashier. Bitch. I win.

Magenta Push-Up Bra

Update on Gangster's Paradise: Apparently I'm not the only one over thinking the situation. He called after only 3 days. (We usually go like 2 months between calls.) I couldn't talk, ( I was at my parents, who were needless to say less than pleased to find out I'm still speaking to him.) He says he "needs" to talk to me and he will get ahold of me as soon as he can. So clearly I'm freaking out. I'm not allowed to call him because the Prom Queen will flip out. I'm sorry. Allowed? What the fuck is that about? I can't eat, I can't sleep. All I do is wonder what he is gonna say. He's leaving Prom Queen? He wants me back? or He never wants to speak to me again? He doesn't love me anymore? GOD DAMMIT! I'm waaay too emotionally unstable to deal with this right now. I still love him. I'm not gonna lie, if he wants me back, I'm all his. I just wish he would fucking CALL ALREADY!

Setting: Findlay Village Mall
Offense: Retail Therapy
I know, I know. Shopping isn't the answer. But that adorable bright magenta push-up bra at Victoria Secret did make me feel better. Isn't that what therapy is all about? The above update has me freaking. (For obvious reasons.) I needed a graduation present and a birthday present. So I had legitimate reasons for going shopping in the first place. Is it my fault that I found a new push-up bra, 3 fabulous new shirts (2 for work, 1 for play), and a new pair of black patent leather pumps. I'm worth it got dammit! There is just something about putting on new clothes and walking a little bit taller and feeling a little bit better. Who can resist? (My bank account seems to be under qualified to be giving out too much more "advice" though.) Is there truly anything wrong with filling up the empty space we all have inside with some high quality items? Sadly, this is a problem. People go to actually therapy so they can stop all the spending in Retail Therapy. A thought. I don't foresee me giving up my shopping habit anytime soon though.

Gangster's Paradise

Setting: My apartment
Offense: The ex-boyfriend phone call
OMFG. Men! I have been separated from this man for over a year. I was/am madly in love with him. And he knows it. (Bastard! I should be able to conceal it better!!!) I to this day am convinced in some twisted realm that we are meant to be. I would marry him tomorrow if the universe allowed. Family life, school (or lack there of), alcohol, drugs, dumb motherfuckin whore ass sisters (eh em.), football (yes, it is that important), money (also, lack there of), distance (I went "far far away." aka: 3 hours), and whole slew of other bullshit in our combined life met our demise. However, that doesn't mean we both weren't broken hearted. Attempting to move on from him has been the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Period. I miss him. I love him. Before, so many things were holding us back. Now, there is nothing. I'm not in school, I could give two shits less about leaving my jobs, I am on month to month lease now, he is making enough money to support us, the before mentioned dumb motherfuckin whore ass sister has been removed from the picture. (No, I didn't order a mob hit, but I fucking should have!) I want him back. I want the life that we always planned together. A house, nice things, a family, an English Bulldog, good friends, an amazing city, and most of all each other. We love each other. He knows it and I know it. Why the fuck is he dating PROM QUEEN!?!?!?!?!? Yes, a high school er. A Senior, but still a child none the less. A child that has raging jealousy issues with him even talking to me. I know that he realizes that we could be happy again. He has said it to me. However, he is happy with said Prom Queen. (She had really bad hair, too much make-up, and a stupid coat.) My theory: DUH he is happy with her. All the stress that was in our relationship is gone. No drinking, drugs, he has money, he shit canned his family. Hello! Any relationship is going to be happy after all that bullshit. He is scared to leave her because he knows that our track record isn't the best. (I want this to work this time!!!) I never gave up hope. Until last night when he called me. Gangster's Paradise ringing out in my living room. I freeze. I know what that song means. He said all the things I wanted to hear. He still loves me, he thinks that if things would have been different we would still be together, he knows I still love him, bla fucking bla. Here is where my stomach got ripped out of me. Said Prom Queen is a fucking snoop, so he makes the comment that he will have to delete the call from his phone or she will flip out. My reply runs along the lines of "She should probably grow the fuck up and deal with the fact that we are going to be close." And ladies and gentleman here it comes. "I know, I keep telling her that if I wanted to be with her I would be." Death. Blood. Heart Crying. Fuckin A! So did he just tell me that he knows I'm willing to give it another go but he doesn't want to. I was silent. I cried alot after the phone call ended I didn't sleep. I colored my hair at 2am. Got up for work 2 hours early. I love him. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! I hate life. I hate him. I wish it was all that simple. I'm gonna go listen to some Coolio and cry.

Men In Trees

Setting: Bar, USA
Offense: Being a dick head
Alright. Fucking men. They piss me off. I don't care if you are a complete sleaze ball or a stand up guy. They all have one thing in common. A penis. They think with this "tool" more often than not. I have a vagina. Yet somehow I still manage to function on a human level. I used to hate all those blond, boobs everywhere, drunk ass sluts in the bar. But the more I understand men, the more I sympathise with those girls. They are only being what men want. How do you find a man? Easy answer is go to the bar and "pick one up". I've come to realize that the kind of men that are prowling Nino's and Uncle Buck's at 1am are not the kind of guy I'm looking for. However, there are still thousands of girls out there with disease, babies, lunatic ex-boyfriends, and DUI's to show that the bar culture is still going strong. Don't get me wrong, it's definitely fun to go out and have a few drinks with the girls. It's when the girls go home with the drunken assholes that it begins to ruin a night. I used to say all men are pigs. Until my food delivery truck driver said something to me after I made such a comment. "You have just been hurt one too many times." Is it that apparent that a casual acquaintance can see it? It's the truth. Men hurt women everyday. Not always physically, but with out a doubt emotionally. I just struggle to understand how men can be so clueless about a woman's feelings. But then again I aslo stuggle to understand what is so damn fun about Halo. I guess somethings are better left a mystery.

In the Begining.

Ok. I'm a bitch. An artist. A baker. A narcissist. A sister. A daughter. An employee. A terrible driver. A recreational writer. A shopper. A college drop out. I'm always right and I know everything. (Obviously I know this isn't completely accurate, however, deal!) I've toyed with writing a book to account all my daily rants. I'm can almost assure you that my friends get sick of the daily, "Oh my fucking god!" phone calls. In my attempt to channel the bullshit in my life, I've decided to keep a blog. We shall see. Ironically enough I only have one rant today.

Setting: The Findlay Post Office
The Offense: Taking out the postage machine.
Seriously! I needed one singular stamp. To mail my rent check. A day late I might add. I had scrounged enough change in my car to purchase one $0.42 stamp, until I arrive at the post office and see that they have removed my beloved postage machine. All that is existing in its place is a machine that only accepts debit or credit. That's it. No quarters. Mother fuckers. So your telling me that even though all I need is one stamp for this one envelope that I have to wait in line with the rest of the mindless morons, which until recently were the idiots that couldn't figure out the postage machine? I hated the answer. Fuckers. I wish I could pay my rent online. Spite them all!