“Whatever you ate, which was very little btw, was just smearing on the side of my truck.”

Well my 21st birthday was a success. I drank a lot, humiliated myself, spilled water on a table of strangers, and threw up on Marty’s truck. Win. Christi:5 World:2

I’d also like to clear up some rumors. I didn’t pee on the floor of the bathroom, someone was joking, although that does sound like something I’d do. Also. I did not “go home” with Sterling, I went to Sterling’s and passed out on the floor of the bathroom. It was funny everyone was mad at him and Marty because they wouldn’t let me stay out and play, but I made them promise me not to let me go home with anyone else. And since Sterling does an excellent job determining when I’m getting close to heaving, they felt it was appropriate to take me to bed.

The last thing from the street that I remember is Robert running away with my pink feathered boa. The last thing I remember from the truck is my head hanging out of it. And the last thing I remember from Sterling’s is the bathroom carpet.

So. Last night was pretty awesome, not gonna lie. I apologize to anyone scarred or hurt in the process of my fun. All in all, I’m happy.

 

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Dear Fall, Help a sista out.

Although I love October, these past few weeks have just been a flurry of wild emotion. I’ve started to write again, but everything seems like thorough crap. Has to have something to do with my “acute internal fracas.”
October always seems to bless me with happiness and new light. Good news and hope. Maybe the season should bless me with some fight against the feud. Or a new bookshelf… I’m out of room…
Anyhow, today I was sitting on the porch staring across the street when a few ideas for something I’m working on popped into my head. Maybe sitting in silence and comfort with my phone off might push things through my noggin better. Time for some real work..

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Evanescent Footing

I remember when I used to get these wild and crazy ideas for my writing projects. Everywhere I went, my mind was constantly running through the people around me and how I could incorporate them into my characters. Or the situations I managed to get myself into and how it would relate the the piece I was working on. It was a mash up of my life. What I wished it were and wasn’t. What I wanted my life to be and what I didn’t.

I was the most creative back when I was getting myself into trouble (and causing my mother to spend a ridiculous amount of money to fix it). There should be no need for a disaster or terrible life circumstance to get things flowing!

So here I am staring at a blank page. The only thing I can manage to think of is him. Should I? Shouldn’t I? What am I doing and what should I be doing? Is it worth it emotionally right now or is staying away really the best option? Then I go into his face and his voice!

Blah. Blah. Blah.

If I can’t contrive some sort of venting ritual, this is what it’s going to be. The boundless, constant circle of trivial emotion. Go away, come here, I hate you, don’t leave me. Ohfurchristsake. No wonder I have writer’s block, the whole situation is mayhem. Die, keyboard, die!

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Who wants to read about an imperfect stranger’s life?

Who am I? And how many people do I have to destroy to find that out? Life and love are nothing to me without something to be proud of. Something to say “This is what I’m about.” I can call myself a writer all I want, but when getting into deepest heart of it, I’m an ex-writer. An ex-creative mind, with no current light. I have not one ounce of poetry in my body, so writing all about the darkness I feel is frivolous.

It’s begun an epic and cynical circle. I wrote to relieve some of my pent up stress to award myself with a little happiness. And then when my life gets much less interesting, I lose it. The stress of the people I am forced to deal with, the ignorant, bitchy people.. who aren’t even worth venting about are blocked in my chest. There’s no way for me to turn the same repetitive immaturity into something to laugh at. These individuals are so horribly unappealing, you can’t even write a sentence on the irony of their idiocy.

Is this my life? Really? And how do you move forward? If I had one wish in the world, it would be to surround myself with chaos. Not the stressful kind, but the sort of madness that’s easy to pick apart and love for what it is. Life. What I’m living isn’t life at all. I’m tits deep into the mud of an embarrassing rut. Time to dig out.

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Oh men of mine. Efforts were beautifully done, however..

I’m trying to quit smoking. I’m a little on edge. And here we go.

I’m not all that impressed with the male population where I live. Everyone is either married, divorced, has a kid somewhere, in a serious relationship that they are clearly not serious about or is simply socially retarded. Dude.

Dear Married Men,
What kind of trash do you think I am? Not only is it utterly revolting to be hitting on me when you have vowed your faithfulness and love to someone else, but just classless. Be a man.

Dear Divorced Men,
After only talking to me, your ex wife has now Facebook stalked me and figured out my entire life story, proceeded to message me all to explain your divorce with the process, and why I should leave you alone. Are you shitting me? I haven’t even shown any interest and look what’s happened. Get that woman in check or you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. Go for someone who is also divorced and wont scare easily. Because bitch be crazy and I don-wan-nuna-dat!

Dear Men Sprinkling Children From Sea to Shining Sea,
I refuse to be another brick in that stretch marked, welfared, angry little wall of yours. I’m sure your kids are adorable… but please refer to “Dear Divorced Man” and insert “Baby Mama” in appropriate places. Then insert my foot in appropriate places as well. Peace and Love.

Dear Men in a “Serious” Relationship,
Really trying to show reasonable respect to the situation, however that’ll get old quick. I have never cheated. Not once. Nor helped anyone cheat because I take my “Boyfriend Code of Conduct” way too seriously. The second I feel myself slip away from a relationship I either (a) catch myself and get it back on track or (b) realize there’s a lot more of life and love that I’d like to experience. Because life really is all that short. You’ve been good. No kids, seemingly drama-free, but common, man! I’m trying to feel like a special situation. Be direct. Be very direct.

Dear Social Retard,
Why are you even trying to talk to me? Wow.

Love, Christi the Moose.

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And you wonder why “we don’t hang out.” PAH!

Retards. The lot of em.

I’m supposed to make my ex feel better by not dating? And then when I do, he tries to prove something. I am not a tree and you are not a wolf. Put. Down. The leg.

And why can’t I just have a guy friend anymore? They get all sensitive, make things complicated by having feelings. Oh get over it. It’s not mutual. Or my being a female wanting to be your friend makes me have feelings for you? Are you shitting me? I’m not that kind of girl. No and no.

All I want is a guy friend! Someone to vent to, or do my “boy hobbies” with. Someone to help me fix the roof or go for a run. I want to go camping! Or the demolition derbies! Friend. I have way too much going on to even consider a relationship in that arena. Only since men have proven they are in fact more girly than any of the girls I know. No how about we don’t cuddle. No how about you stop texting me every six seconds. I’m two steps into shaving my head and quitting on girl smells. Maybe that’ll repel whatever lusty thing you think is going on. Would you be attracted to a lumpy-headed bald woman? Or have the smallest idea that someone smelling like a boy wants you? Cause hell, I’ll do it!

There’s one dude in particular, and you know who you are! Stop with the threats.

“If you don’t want to be with me, then I don’t know what to do because I wont be able to handle just being friends.”  …. what the hell is that, Princess….?

Oh? Done! I gave you what I have to offer. My friendship. Quit trying to make me feel guilty for not loving you in that regard. Because you’re just hurting my feelings, not winning me over. Swine. I hope you meet a nice girl who does that same thing to you for you to realize best friends of that many years, don’t just up and confess their undying love and get MAD when it’s not mutual.

So to set the fucking record straight.
Dear All Male Friends,
Chill. No I don’t and no I wont, end of story. And for the sake of shutting you up  I’m interested in ONE person, I have been for a very very long time.. gee sorry (and no it’s not any of you). So. Hike up those frilly panties you bunch of nancy-girls have been sporting this year.  A lot of us have been friends for a long time. But you’ve got to stop with this crap or I’m out. Period. Lets get some beer and relax.

Christi

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So many things to love about my life

So here in Arizona, Fall is my ideal summer. I’m currently belly flopped on a giant towel in the back yard. Not to tan, just to lay in the shade.

There are so many amazing things and thoughts, reasons why I feel so blessed to be in this exact coordinate in this exact form. With the slight breeze, the smell (and itch) of freshly cut grass. My parent’s show pony of a dog doing her laps around the yard..

Both of us gulp water. Have you ever thought about how many things we use water for? Not just drinking and showering. Its a universal need for human life.

So for today, I love life a lot. The people I get to see everyday. The drive to work with the windows down. The trips to Montana. And simply laying in my parent’s back yard.

Tomorrow I might hate life. So finding moments like this to appreciate my life I’ll go ahead and embrace.

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