holiday

cup match!!!! wooooo

for all you who don't know about cup match... it's when we islanders get two days off to support the two rival teams that play cricket every year at the end of july... yes there are only two teams and no i can't explain cricket cuz i dont care about it....

i'm blue and blue all the way... st. george's yeah!!

but fuck the game. i'll be drunk by the pool getting roasted in the sun... that's my idea of a freakin holiday ... as long as franklin keeps the fuck away...

so it's party thursday, sleep friday, party saturday (and watch a bunch of drag queens whoop it up on stage - hopefully none of the male attendees will be overly offended by their antics and show up outside the stage door with an air pistol and shoot them in the eye), party sunday... and if all goes well... stumble blindly into work on monday morning, hung over and reeking of alcohol, and pass out on my desk

thank god my fellow country men use anything as an excuse to take time off and get hammered

coolest mom ever!

wouldn't you just foam at the mouth, keel over, have a seizure and die from the excitement of your mother having sex with your high school friends? i know i would! and vomit all over the place for good measure...

but then when you found out she was supplying them with drugs and alcohol to get them there? first i'd feel a little jilted... where're my intoxicants?
then i'd realise my mother was using those very intoxicants i loved to pummel my friends for her pleasure... and i'd give them up... for the abstract and distinct fear of turning out just like her.

expensive failure

i got my hair done

it cost me $200 and three and a half hours of my life

maybe this stringy mop on my head (at least it's not frizzy) will distract from the 20 + pounds i seem to have packed on recently

i realise... i make mention of my fatness often... it's a sickness. a disease called vanity. i'd develop bulimia if i wasn't so worried people would talk... but i'm lying. i love eating too much. it's a vicious catch 22.

i get depressed because i eat too much so i eat because i'm depressed

second guessing that decision... since i can't wash it for a week...
maybe i should have just cut it the hell off... decrease the surplus population as it were... of the shower drain that is

another day another useless thought

today has been just that... a day

nothing more nothing less

nothing spectacular, exciting, romantic, crazy, interesting...

just... a day

i'm feeling discouraged. i feel like i'm on the brink...
of what? you name it i'm there... and my tuna fish tastes like chicken...
it's sad when you'd rather get lost in someone else's fake existance then participate in your own. i'm guilty of that.
suffering from banality...
maybe i should plan out a detailed caper, involving kitschy theme music, black stockings and a skeleton key...
or maybe i'll just curl up into a human ball under my desk and wait for the apocolypse to arrive...
which ever comes first.

hopes and fears

we might as well be strangers

i don't know your face no more
or feel the touch that i adore
i don't know your face no more
it's just a place i'm looking for

we might as well be strangers in another town
we might as well be living in a different world
we might as well

i don't know your thoughts these days
we're strangers in an empty space
i don't understand your heart
it's easier to be apart

we might as well be strangers in another town
we might as well be living in another time
we might as well be strangers

for all i know of you now,
for all i know

- no these aren't my words, they're keane's, a brit group with an unlikely but attractive-beacuse-of-his-talent lead singer.
i could listen to them all day

bedshaped

many's the time i ran with you down
the rainy woods of our old town
many the lives we lived in each day
and buried altogether

don't laugh at me
don't look away
you'll follow me back with the sun in your eyes
and on your own
bedshaped and legs of stone
youll knock on my door and up we'll go
in white light
i don't think so
but what do i know?

i know you think i'm holding you down
and i've fallen by the wayside now
and i don't understand the same things as you
but i do

don't laugh at me
don't look away
you'll follow me back

with the sun in your eyes
and on your own
bedshaped and legs of stone
you'll knock on my door and up we'll go
in white light
i don't thinks o
but what do i know?
what do i know?
i know

speaking volumes

alice sebold is inspirational






lovely bones was an awe inspiring book but lucky is transcendant.

i knew i wanted to read lucky, i borrowed it from a friend of mine. i didn't anticipate how deep and hard it would hit, and how much i would relate to some of the things that she went through. it must have been so cathartic to put those words on paper, trying to explain something that no one will ever really understand unless they've had the distinct misfortune of having been in similar situations.

people's opinions do change, you can see it in their eyes, you can feel it in the way they shy away from you, even when once you were close.

some people try to act accepting, but really, no one knows what to say or do.

in fact, you shouldn't say anything. it's about listening. it's not about you, it's about them, and how they're hurting.

you're so lucky to be alive ... withdrawal is an evil side effect.

i hear the sound of hot air

i've gained over 20 pounds... not on that damned diet, i predicted i was going to quit. or cheat. or fail... whatever terminology applies...
i just couldn't damn well do it.

so i'm going to a "body sculpting" class tonight, to sculpt my body... i'm nervos. the crazy yet eerily motivating instructor who taught my partner in weight loss crime and i step the other night is also instructing this sculpting class...
i really thought i was going to die while i was in her class, just drop dead in a pool of my own sweat after tripping over the damn step and into the flailing arms and legs of another poor slob desperately trying to shed those unwanted fat pounds so we can feel better about ourselves instead of walking down the street and fighting the urge to binge eat donuts and greasey cheese pizza as we poorly cope with the stress related depression brought on by the etheopian thin waife who's jeans cling on for dear life to her hips as she eats an ice cream cone and complains of being fat.
and not only that, i am completely uncoordinated so while the girls in front of me go left, i go right. walking and breathing already isn't a strong point for me, where did i get off thinking i could coordinate my limbs enough to attempt something everyone else makes look easy but in fact is quite complicated? a display of seinfeld-esque proportions - "it's like a full body dry heave set to music..."
thank you george for bringing internal commentary to my self-concious efforts
tonight i hope for better results, although my legs still ache and i find it unsettlingly hard to make my way up a short flight of stairs (thank jebus for railings)
why can't we live in a time where pudgy pale women are beautiful and objects of desire?! damn the 90's for turning the population into spastic weightloss freaks and grease guzzling buckets of lard

black out dayz

i should have known something was wrong at around 5 am when my boyfriend woke up and said:
"baby, why can't i see the clocks?"
i replied "i don't fuckin know," and in my sleep deprived state i couldn't know. i set my phone alarm and he still woke up late.
personally, i dreamt that the clocks had come back on during my slumber and i was able to make my breakfast... but when i finally opened my eyes i realised it was yet another of my lazy attempts to sleep in later.
that's when his mother came to the door and said she needed to talk to me because something was going on...
immediately i worried because my phone wasn't working, something had to be wrong with brian... i rushed outside so she could tell me that it was an Island wide black out!
the one power station that services the entire Island had a huge fire at around 3 am and it took over 70 firefighters eight hours to put the blaze out...
brian called from work in a panic insisting that i not leave the house because he didn't want me involved in the ensuing may lay occuring on the streets of our one block cbd.
since we have a gas stove, the family asked to use ours to boil water - in a time of crisis everyone wants coffee... funny story, his 80 year old aunt is visiting from the states. she was one of the first awake in the main household and was paitently waiting for the water to boil. when finally everyone else woke up they found her in the kitchen, still paitently waiting... and when they told her what happened she said... "i was wondering why it was taking so long!"... :
traffic lights were out and drivers were not feeling particularly friendly
brian eventually made it home after several near homicide attempts and a long wait in line for gas at one of the two operational gas stations on the Island...
what were we to do? it was swelteringly hot, no music or tv, no opening and closing the fridge... thank god for the pool or i may have melted...
police officers were sent to block off several streets because the mad rush for gasoline was causing grid lock - people were stuck in their cars for hours as they got mad at the bikes that were pushing in front of the line
people are completely underprepared for disastors such as this... like how canadians forget how to drive in the snow...
it turned out to be a half and half day... they all seem to be for me... the best part being that i didn't have to go to work and got a chance to work on my sunburn.
a black out is always better than a natural disaster because no one really gets hurt... unless you are in the states and people start rioting and looting. luckily bermudians only care about getting a drink and having a party and those places that support those habits were open and available...
people didn't even steal news papers! they left the money on top of the pile...

that's the story of the belco blaze... well my edition anyway...

killer carbs

who ever discovered that carbohydrates make a great meal should be dragged to a stage, awarded, applauded and then shot for making it so hard to eat without them
diets suck. i hate that i can't pull my pants up over my ass anymore when a year ago they fit fine but i hate it more that i can't have six pieces of bread loaded with butter, a handful of extra salty chips, two pieces of chocolate marble cake with chocolate icing and a bowl of ice cream before dinner.
eating a plate of vegetables and chicken only serves to make me hungrier, no matter the portion size. what's up with that? then i turn into uber bitch because i can't eat what i want and i want it NOW.
i burned my tongue on the 'no-fat' salad dressing i made of extra virgin olive oil (it's the best for you), vinegar, dijon mustard, lemon juice and honey - who would've guessed. it's been hurting for three days
but i'd also like to wear a pair of pants without two or three rolls spilling out over the top and having to pull on a shapeless shirt to cover it up.
what is the solution? what does a lazy girl with no drive or motivation and an addiction to eating do? suffer through it? get off her fat ass and actually do something about it?
this carb free diet is hurting... i'm only gonna cheat because it's SO HARD... sigh...

the flagship blog

since this is the first blog... i might as well start with a blurb about myself.

i'm a full time writer for a newspaper where i live... where is that? it's privaleged information... just know that there's sun, sand, and sea all year round...

i moved out of my house a month ago and in with my boyfriend. i've lived alone before but this is the... stupidest(?)... venture i've ever embarked upon... i mean... how do you live with someone when everything annoys you...i have no paitence... not for anyone or thing... especially children... and he acts like a child.. plus... we live in a room... it's a "pool house" actually... and... well... it's a pool house and his parents are three steps away.

i think they come into the "house" too... i bought two bottles of wine the other day, and a few days later i realised that one wasn't where it was supposed to be... lying quietly on its side in the fridge waiting for me to drink it... as i am a professed alcoholic (why deny...) its disappearance was unsetteling because if i had drank it myself... it meant i had NO and i mean ABSOLUTELY no recollection of the act... plus the bottle was absent from the trash can... so... SOMEONE must have sneaked there way into my fridge and liberated the $13.50 bottle of wine without my knowing.

Now it's not the fact that the alcohol is missing per say (or that's what i'm trying to convince my other half) it's the fact that someone violated my space...

to this day i can't figure out who the burgler is, we've confronted the family but no one is owning up to it... but someone has GOT to know SOMETHING it's driving me INSANE... literally and that's not really a hard feat but come on!

o but i digress...

actually i've run out of things to say... this isn't a very exciting job, not like an arsonist or a waste management official... but it's my job and i like it...

Violence... entertainment for the mentally inequipped

when you venture out of your comfort zone and into an area of the unknown, anything can happen. life is scary enough without ignorant mushroom heads dragging out their weapons every now and then to prove some kind of unnecessary point to people who don't really give a damn. you pull a knife on me? i don't care, it doesn't say anything to me other than you're a weak person and you have to try to prove a point to me by shoving something sharp and shiney in my face. now... if you came at me with just your fists and pummeled me into submission then i'd have to give you your props but i'd probably laugh if some asshole pointed a gun at me.
today everyone takes the easy way out... that is they don't know how to really stand up for themselves using their words instead of their weapons. it is a lot harder to completely humiliate someone and win when you've attacked them with language than it is to attack them with o, say a metal baseball bat. sure the gratification of smacking someone across the head is instant and rewarding but there's nothing better than belittling someone in front of their crew. i prefer this method... not because i'm a pansy but because i like to think that i'm an intellectual and the biggest blow to my own personal self esteem would be if someone took the time to ream me a new one emotionally rather than physically.
but this violence has got to stop. just because she slept with your baby daddy and then told everyone doesn't mean a thing... i mean... what's the difference right? it's just sex... and you have a bond deeper than that... but if he fucked around on you the bond obviously doesn't exist... so realise and GET OVER IT.
that's antoher thing... why can't people let go? if he doesn't love you... he DOESN'T LOVE YOU. end of story... comprende? gees louise...