To Bitch or Not to Bitch

Bitch1

I feel like bitching but I don’t know what to bitch about.

To Bitch:
To criticize spitefully, often for the sake of complaining
rather than in order to have the problem corrected.

There are too many things to bitch about, I don’t know where to start.

Bitch2

I could bitch about this proverb.  No, let’s just focus on the first word.

Life.

What’s the problem with life?  Let’s talk about human life because it’s the only one I’ve experienced so far.  The problem is that it doesn’t come with an instructions manual.

I was given something that seems pretty awesome on the onset, but then after a while, everything starts to fail.  You spend your time repairing things that keep breaking.  Everything breaks down eventually, everything!

And at the end you die.

What a bitch!

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Absolutely Fabulous

Fabulous

I’m a lucky man.  The neighbor envies me.  I see it in his eyes.  He wants her.  He wants my wife.  Because she’s absolutely fabulous.

My best friend is not my wife.  My best friend is the dictionary.  So, come here pal, I need you!  Open up.  Please show me.  I want to see the word Fabulous.  I need to know who I’m married to.

Fabulous:

  1. Of or relating to fable, myth or legend.
  2. Characteristic of fables; marvelous, extraordinary, incredible.
  3. Fictional or not believable; made up.
  4. Known for telling fables or falsehoods; unreliable.
  5. Very good; outstanding, wonderful.
  6. Gay or pertaining to gay people.
  7. Camp, effeminate.
  8. Fashionable, glamorous

Yep, she’s all of these things, except number 6.  She keeps saying that she’s not gay, that she loves men.  But then she’s always hanging out with her fabulous female friends.  And she treats me like crap.

Number 5 contradicts numbers 3 and 4.  How can an unbelievable, fake and unreliable person be good?  She appears wonderful, that’s for sure.

Everyone loves her.  Well that’s what she tells me.  So it must be true.  *wink*

I wonder how long she can keep up this show?

Speaking of which…  there used to be a television sitcom by this title.  I think this is where the photo comes from.  I don’t know, I just used Google Images and typed the word fabulous and this one came up.  I thought it looked a lot like my wife.

Being absolutely fabulous is not such a bad thing.  It’s better than being an asshole who posts degrading comments about his wife on WordPress.

But I use my blog to make myself feel better.  And for some reason, I feel better now that I have expressed myself.  Isn’t blogging absolutely fabulous?

Alienated

Unsociability3

This is not going to be a feel-good post.  I warn you.  I feel disgusted this morning and this is my attempt at getting rid of it: by dumping it on my readers.

Yeah, I can be cruel sometimes but I gave you advanced notice (see previous paragraph), so if you’re still reading it’s because you don’t mind or you’re curious or just bored.

I went to bed disgusted and woke up feeling the same way.  No, this time it’s not because of my balance disorder, it’s something else.  My relationships disgust me.  The people I am closest to, three of them especially, members of my family.

I’m attempting to distance myself from my family but I’m not there yet.  Family members are not things you can return for a refund.  You’re born with them and they stick to you for life, if not physically then emotionally or psychologically.

The first one is the woman I am currently legally married to.  Although I have declared our marriage null years ago, we are still bound because of the children.  My disgust stems from something I realized yesterday which I will summarized in one sentence:  She uses the children to impose her dominance over me.  That is all I’m going to about that.

The second person is my sister who is almost my best friend.  She keeps breaking up and getting back together with her boyfriend.  She breaks up with him practically every week!  And then she comes crying to me, so I listen.  This causes us to become really close, and then first thing you know, she’s back with the guy and then I don’t hear from her for weeks.  In other words, she only speaks to me when she breaks up with her boyfriend.  What kind of friend is that?

The third person is my other sister who told me yesterday to “stop complaining.”  Whenever I attempt at getting closer with my family, I open up and tell them how I feel, not to gain their pity, but to establish some sort of intimacy so we can offer each other mutual support.  But yesterday all I got was a “stop complaining,” which translates into “Shut the fuck up — if you can’t say anything positive then don’t say anything.”  So much for authenticity.

Anyway, thanks for listening, I just needed to vent a bit.  I’m not feeling any better yet but maybe I will later.

 

The Liar

He lies to his wife, lies to his children, lies to his followers, lies to his friends.  No, sorry.  Not to his friends because he doesn’t have any.  The liar doesn’t have friends, he has… figurines, or pawns, or deluded admirers.

That’s right.  And he doesn’t live, he subsists within his own exquisitely well decorated prison.  He walks around, alone among others, smiling and waving, buying and selling.  He drugs his one-track mind to sleep, drugs his trimmed body to work, drugs his flaccid organ to night clubs, and the next day goes to church.  He has sex with himself while screwing the other.

The liar is popular, rich, famous and funny.  He loves his life and is afraid to die.  He can’t stand sickness, can’t tolerate unhappiness, can’t understand meditation.  He watches tv, follows the news and dresses fashionably.

The liar cheats his partner, cheats his employer and cheats himself.  He’s an expert with words, he knows exactly what to say and when to say it.  He knows when to play the hero and when to play the victim.  The liar is a player.

He succeeds in everything he does, he hardly ever gets criticised because he’s wise, slick and sly, politically correct, healthy and he supports the army.  He suffers from headaches but doesn’t tell anyone.  He goes to the dentist regularly and makes sure his teeth are white.

The liar doesn’t last forever

Because he can’t enter eternity

The liar might be your neighbour

He might be you or he might be me

What a disgusting blogpost

I feel like regurgitating my dinner

Please excuse me

Looks Good

Yuck

“Good morning, good afternoon, good evening.  How are you?  Good!  That’s good to hear.  You look good.  Did you have a good time?  It’s a good day isn’t it?  Well it was good to see you.  Goodbye!”

Why does everything have to be good all the time?  How boring.  It makes me sick.  It’s so one-sided and unbalanced.

We hide everything that doesn’t look good and pretend it doesn’t exist:  our weaknesses, our garbage and our shit.  And then we say:  All is good.  But is it?

Nothing in this world is THAT good.  Get over it, people.

“Bad morning!  How are you?  Bad, and you?  Oh, just awful.  You look bad by the way.  Well, fuck you!  I thought the same thing when I saw you.  It’s a bad day isn’t it?  Oh, absolutely!  How are the kids?  Terrible!  That’s too bad.  Oh well, it was depressing to see you!  Badbye!”