Is anyone else sick of seeing Brad and/or Jen and/or Angelina in the tabloids? It seems that every damned time I go out to get groceries I see at least one of these morons on the magazine rack. For crying out loud, the whole Angelina the homewrecker fiasco happened, what? Two or three years ago? Whatever, the point is, it happened a fucking long time ago, and no one could possibly give a shit at this point!
What's more, I fail to see why people care so much about what happens in the personal lives of celebrities in the first place. Your friend's man cheats on her, you call him a douche-bag and maybe help her slash his tires, then you move on. Brad cheats on Jen? The majority of North America knows about it, and won't SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT for years after the incident occurs! For crying out loud, they've moved on, why can't the media? In 10 years, no one's going to give a shit about them anyway because their looks will go (yes Brad, even yours), and everyone will realize that they're all just crappy actors who used to look pretty enough to make up for it.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
There's something about babies...
A while back, I was standing outside a walk-in clinic, waiting for it to open. There was a bit of a line-up, and several people had small children. I was quite miserable that day, I was worried about some bizarre symptoms I had been experiencing, and besides that, I hate talking to doctors at the best of times. Needless to say, I wasn't in the mood to smile as I waited to see whether the doctor I ended up seeing would actually listen to me, and try to help as best he or she could, or write me a prescription for a random drug and send me off to die. As anyone who has gone to a walk-in clinic knows, it's a bit of a crap-shoot going to those places. The doctors volunteer to be there, and some of them aren't exactly medical professionals of the highest calibre.
As I stood around, a small child in the line behind me would occasionally run into the back of my leg (not exactly a coordinated youngster). Now, I am not exactly fond of children. More to the point, the little creatures are alien to me. On the rare occasion that I am left to care for them alone, I am at a complete loss for what I am supposed to do. Chances are that I'll be slapped with a court order forbidding me to reproduce should I ever express interest in doing so; and for good reason. I can't even keep fish alive.
However, occasionally I will see a child that manages to make me smile. What can I say? I might be a cynical bitch, but my heart isn't made of stone. Yes, children can be hell-spawn, but they are undeniably cute when they wish to be. A young mother who stood ahead of me held a small baby boy, about 1 1/2 years old. He had to be one of the most adorable children I've ever seen. What I found slightly disturbing was, he seemed to be fascinated by me. He would stare at me unblinkingly for as long as his mother talked to other people. I couldn't help but smile a bit, he had the sweetest, big, blue eyes I have ever seen. When I smiled, a big, ear-to-ear grin formed on his sweet little face, but I could only look at him for so long before my anti-social nature kicked me back to reality. My smile was replaced with my usual crabby scowl, and I stared at the ground.
Normally that would have been the end of it. But for the next hour until the doors to the clinic finally opened, I felt eyes on me. Every time I glanced up, I would see those big, beautiful blue eyes. When I looked at him with my trademark scowl, his grin would be replaced by a sad little frown. Seeing a baby that adorable frown tugged at my heart-strings a little, so I was forced to smile...and to keep smiling. As I watched the little boy, some of my worry left me. By the time I finally went into the clinic, my spirits were high. I don't know the name of that little boy, and I'll probably never see him again, but I know I'll remember those adorable blue eyes and that sweet baby grin for the rest of my life.
As I stood around, a small child in the line behind me would occasionally run into the back of my leg (not exactly a coordinated youngster). Now, I am not exactly fond of children. More to the point, the little creatures are alien to me. On the rare occasion that I am left to care for them alone, I am at a complete loss for what I am supposed to do. Chances are that I'll be slapped with a court order forbidding me to reproduce should I ever express interest in doing so; and for good reason. I can't even keep fish alive.
However, occasionally I will see a child that manages to make me smile. What can I say? I might be a cynical bitch, but my heart isn't made of stone. Yes, children can be hell-spawn, but they are undeniably cute when they wish to be. A young mother who stood ahead of me held a small baby boy, about 1 1/2 years old. He had to be one of the most adorable children I've ever seen. What I found slightly disturbing was, he seemed to be fascinated by me. He would stare at me unblinkingly for as long as his mother talked to other people. I couldn't help but smile a bit, he had the sweetest, big, blue eyes I have ever seen. When I smiled, a big, ear-to-ear grin formed on his sweet little face, but I could only look at him for so long before my anti-social nature kicked me back to reality. My smile was replaced with my usual crabby scowl, and I stared at the ground.
Normally that would have been the end of it. But for the next hour until the doors to the clinic finally opened, I felt eyes on me. Every time I glanced up, I would see those big, beautiful blue eyes. When I looked at him with my trademark scowl, his grin would be replaced by a sad little frown. Seeing a baby that adorable frown tugged at my heart-strings a little, so I was forced to smile...and to keep smiling. As I watched the little boy, some of my worry left me. By the time I finally went into the clinic, my spirits were high. I don't know the name of that little boy, and I'll probably never see him again, but I know I'll remember those adorable blue eyes and that sweet baby grin for the rest of my life.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
The Victim
I'm anti-social, I'm moody, and it doesn't take a lot to get under my skin. But the thing I hate more than anything else (even more than forced humility), is people who play the victim. They constantly wallow in self-pity, taking every oppotunity they can to milk you for sympathy. Sometimes, these people deserve a little pity. Their lives may have not been easy. A person can only take so much hardship before they begin to grow self-centered. It's a matter of self-preservation I suppose. But the "victims" of the world take it a little too far. A day doesn't go by that they aren't saying, "Poor me," and most of the time, they get exactly what they're after.
After a while though, the patience of even the most empathetic individual will wear thin. Sooner or later, sympathy is replaced with one of two things: irritation, or pity. The Victim doesn't want to be on the recieving end of either of these; irritation for obvious reasons, and pity because it makes them look less "strong". But in the end, they're really not strong at all. If these people would take a moment and pull their heads out of their ass, they would see the pan-handlers on the street, and people trying to keep warm in boxes and newspapers in alleys. Chances are they would kill for what The Victim has. If they were to look a bit farther, they would see the people in Africa, living in mud huts, not having clean water to drink. They would see the thousands of people dying over there every year from malnutrition, and HIV. And what about the innocent people in Irac, getting bombed on a regular basis just because they happen to live in the same country that Sadam did? My point is, no matter how shitty your life happens to be, chances are there's someone out there who has it 100 times worse. So get the fuck over yourself, stop whining, and grow the hell up.
After a while though, the patience of even the most empathetic individual will wear thin. Sooner or later, sympathy is replaced with one of two things: irritation, or pity. The Victim doesn't want to be on the recieving end of either of these; irritation for obvious reasons, and pity because it makes them look less "strong". But in the end, they're really not strong at all. If these people would take a moment and pull their heads out of their ass, they would see the pan-handlers on the street, and people trying to keep warm in boxes and newspapers in alleys. Chances are they would kill for what The Victim has. If they were to look a bit farther, they would see the people in Africa, living in mud huts, not having clean water to drink. They would see the thousands of people dying over there every year from malnutrition, and HIV. And what about the innocent people in Irac, getting bombed on a regular basis just because they happen to live in the same country that Sadam did? My point is, no matter how shitty your life happens to be, chances are there's someone out there who has it 100 times worse. So get the fuck over yourself, stop whining, and grow the hell up.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Women and jerks. What's the appeal?!
The other night whilst I was whining to a male friend about a foolish infatuation, we began to talk about women and why they choose bad men over the nice guys. Come on ladies, don’t try to deny it. We always go after the horny bastards. Why is it that even when we have perfect gentlemen right under our noses, we chase the men we know will hurt us? What is the appeal? Is it really the bad-boy image that so many women claim to love? There doesn’t seem to be any logical reasoning behind it. Or is there?
From a scientific standpoint, there may be an explanation.
Idiot fact #002: Women go after men who have genetic immunities they are lacking.
To elaborate, when women are searching for a “mate”, they can sense instinctively from the pheromones men give off what immunities they have. Research has shown that women are more frequently attracted men who have immunities they do not because such a pairing will produce healthier offspring. However, this cannot account for all the women who fall for assholes. It just happens to damned often. Besides, there is no way that all men with good genes have bad personalities. I hope.
Thus we move on to one of my theories. I’m sure at one time or another, we’ve all heard the expression, “Lovers come and go, but friendships last forever.” When women meet men who are sweet, understanding, intellectually stimulating and easy to be with, it may be that they do not want to risk throwing away a valuable friendship by getting romantically involved with such a person. Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes friends “fall in love“, and they live wonderful lives together. But often, the relationship goes down the toilet because of preconceived notions and delusions, the friendship is ruined, and the ex-lovers can’t even stand to look at one another when the relationship finally ends. A lot of women are too frightened by the thought of that to take the plunge, and as a result the nice guy gets the short end of the stick.
It’s really a sad thing. Life is short, and we probably only live once. So what the hell are we waiting for? Why are we subjecting ourselves to lousy relationships when we have the chance to be with people who will give us the love and respect we deserve(well, some of us anyway)? Maybe this is just another one of those little mysteries we’ll never know.
(Disclaimer: I am not trying to imply that men don‘t end up in crappy relationships as well. If anything, men end up with bitchy wives even more often than women end up with jerk-off husbands. If anyone has any theories regarding this subject, feel free to post them in the comments section. I’d love to hear from you!)
From a scientific standpoint, there may be an explanation.
Idiot fact #002: Women go after men who have genetic immunities they are lacking.
To elaborate, when women are searching for a “mate”, they can sense instinctively from the pheromones men give off what immunities they have. Research has shown that women are more frequently attracted men who have immunities they do not because such a pairing will produce healthier offspring. However, this cannot account for all the women who fall for assholes. It just happens to damned often. Besides, there is no way that all men with good genes have bad personalities. I hope.
Thus we move on to one of my theories. I’m sure at one time or another, we’ve all heard the expression, “Lovers come and go, but friendships last forever.” When women meet men who are sweet, understanding, intellectually stimulating and easy to be with, it may be that they do not want to risk throwing away a valuable friendship by getting romantically involved with such a person. Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes friends “fall in love“, and they live wonderful lives together. But often, the relationship goes down the toilet because of preconceived notions and delusions, the friendship is ruined, and the ex-lovers can’t even stand to look at one another when the relationship finally ends. A lot of women are too frightened by the thought of that to take the plunge, and as a result the nice guy gets the short end of the stick.
It’s really a sad thing. Life is short, and we probably only live once. So what the hell are we waiting for? Why are we subjecting ourselves to lousy relationships when we have the chance to be with people who will give us the love and respect we deserve(well, some of us anyway)? Maybe this is just another one of those little mysteries we’ll never know.
(Disclaimer: I am not trying to imply that men don‘t end up in crappy relationships as well. If anything, men end up with bitchy wives even more often than women end up with jerk-off husbands. If anyone has any theories regarding this subject, feel free to post them in the comments section. I’d love to hear from you!)
Friday, August 25, 2006
All the lonely people...
I sit in a small restaurant, picking away at my fetucini alfredo and looking outside, watching the summer rain fall. It always seems to rain on days like these. I'm having one of my down days. All I want to do is sit and ponder silently, the last thing I want to do is talk to anyone.
As I sip my drink and push a sprig of parsley around my plate, hoping that the rain will stop, an older woman comes in. She sits down at a small table near mine, and smiles at me warmly. I nod absently and go back to staring out the window, willing the rain to stop so I can return home to my cats and my beloved DVD player. However, the rain continues to pour, and the waiter comes to my table with a dessert menu. Ah, what the hell. I order a piece of cheesecake and a cup of coffee.
"It's my birthday today..." says the old woman shyly. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, attempting a smile.
"Happy birthday..."
"My sons used to take me out to dinner every year." There's a hint of sadness in her voice, but I'm too dense to pick up on that at the time. "That's nice..." I finish off my dessert, signal for the check, and make a quick exit, leaving the woman to her own thoughts, staring sadly down at her garden salad.
Looking back on that day, I feel sad and ashamed. That woman didn't care about her dinner, she just wanted someone to talk to, anyone. She seemed so small, sad, and alone...abandoned. Were her sons in Afganistan, or Lebanon? Or did they just stop caring once they "made it big"? Maybe they now cared more about their work than their family, and their mother was sweeped under the carpet, completely forgotten. Or maybe they were a few of the unlucky souls who made up the statistics.
I pray that someone was more compassionate than me, that someone listened to her and kept her company. I pray that she doesn't remain forgotten forever, that when her time finally comes to leave the world of the living, that she is surrounded by the ones she loves.
It's unlikely that she will ever see this message, but I will still appologize here...I'm sorry for my ignorance, my selfishness, and my insensitivity. I'm sorry that I wasn't the sympathetic ear you needed, or a shoulder to lean on.
As I sip my drink and push a sprig of parsley around my plate, hoping that the rain will stop, an older woman comes in. She sits down at a small table near mine, and smiles at me warmly. I nod absently and go back to staring out the window, willing the rain to stop so I can return home to my cats and my beloved DVD player. However, the rain continues to pour, and the waiter comes to my table with a dessert menu. Ah, what the hell. I order a piece of cheesecake and a cup of coffee.
"It's my birthday today..." says the old woman shyly. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, attempting a smile.
"Happy birthday..."
"My sons used to take me out to dinner every year." There's a hint of sadness in her voice, but I'm too dense to pick up on that at the time. "That's nice..." I finish off my dessert, signal for the check, and make a quick exit, leaving the woman to her own thoughts, staring sadly down at her garden salad.
Looking back on that day, I feel sad and ashamed. That woman didn't care about her dinner, she just wanted someone to talk to, anyone. She seemed so small, sad, and alone...abandoned. Were her sons in Afganistan, or Lebanon? Or did they just stop caring once they "made it big"? Maybe they now cared more about their work than their family, and their mother was sweeped under the carpet, completely forgotten. Or maybe they were a few of the unlucky souls who made up the statistics.
I pray that someone was more compassionate than me, that someone listened to her and kept her company. I pray that she doesn't remain forgotten forever, that when her time finally comes to leave the world of the living, that she is surrounded by the ones she loves.
It's unlikely that she will ever see this message, but I will still appologize here...I'm sorry for my ignorance, my selfishness, and my insensitivity. I'm sorry that I wasn't the sympathetic ear you needed, or a shoulder to lean on.
I'm fat because I'm stressed!
When did it become the norm for people to blame their screw-ups on everyone but themselves? Worse yet, when did everyone decide this behavior was acceptable? Every night when I sit down to enjoy an episode of The Nature of Things (who the hell am I kidding? You all know I’m only watching The Simpsons and every sitcom I can find), I see a commercial for the latest wonder-drug, Relacore . Now there have been weight-loss pills on the market for years, but never before have I seen one of these companies try to delude women into thinking that they’re overweight because they’re stressed! Just about every woman over the age of 18 already blames everything on stress, from the hair in her shower drain, to the bad productivity reports at work. It drives me insane! Now every blimp I have the misfortune to strike up a conversation with will be saying, “Things have been so stressful lately, it’s no wonder I packed on ten pounds this month!” Of course that’s what it is, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that you’ve been surviving on whatever greasy crap you can get people to deliver in 30 minutes or less!
I have probably just succeeded in alienating 75% of my readership because of that blimp comment, but it’s really hard to give a flying fuck when I consider the fact that most of these people play the part of the victim as skillfully as Beethoven plays the piano. Besides, I’m a blimp too. You don’t see me blaming my blubber on a glandular problem or whatever other bullshit people come up with. There may be some level of truth to these claims, but 98% of the time, medical conditions are nothing more than a contributing factor. A small contributing factor. The main reason blimps are blimps is because we wolf down the fatty poison corporate jack offs pass off as food like pigs in a trough.
What annoys me the most are these people who whine about being fat, but don’t do anything about it. It’s as if they just expect to miraculously lose weight overnight. Oftentimes these are the same kind of people who think the world owes them something, so they shouldn’t have to do anything they don’t want to. Like work for instance.
I suppose I’ve rambled on long enough, this post gets more obnoxious with every word. The bottom line is this: If you’re unhappy with yourself, get off your plus-sized ass and do something about it! Cut back on the fatty crap, and get on the treadmill! If you’re comfortable the way you are, then I applaud you. Live the way you want, just be prepared to deal with the consequences if the way you live happens to be really unhealthy.
I have probably just succeeded in alienating 75% of my readership because of that blimp comment, but it’s really hard to give a flying fuck when I consider the fact that most of these people play the part of the victim as skillfully as Beethoven plays the piano. Besides, I’m a blimp too. You don’t see me blaming my blubber on a glandular problem or whatever other bullshit people come up with. There may be some level of truth to these claims, but 98% of the time, medical conditions are nothing more than a contributing factor. A small contributing factor. The main reason blimps are blimps is because we wolf down the fatty poison corporate jack offs pass off as food like pigs in a trough.
What annoys me the most are these people who whine about being fat, but don’t do anything about it. It’s as if they just expect to miraculously lose weight overnight. Oftentimes these are the same kind of people who think the world owes them something, so they shouldn’t have to do anything they don’t want to. Like work for instance.
I suppose I’ve rambled on long enough, this post gets more obnoxious with every word. The bottom line is this: If you’re unhappy with yourself, get off your plus-sized ass and do something about it! Cut back on the fatty crap, and get on the treadmill! If you’re comfortable the way you are, then I applaud you. Live the way you want, just be prepared to deal with the consequences if the way you live happens to be really unhealthy.
Monday, August 14, 2006
An Introduction
"A cynical, blunt, antisocial bitch..."
Those seem to be the words most commonly used to describe yours truly. Does that anger the entity that is The Cynic? Hardly. The fact of the matter is, just about all of that is true. Technically I'm not a bitch; while I am just about as hairy, I am in fact a human female, not a dog. That leads me to the first of many "Idiot facts" likely to be posted here. . .
Idiot fact #001: Webster's dictionary defines the word bitch as "the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals."
Those seem to be the words most commonly used to describe yours truly. Does that anger the entity that is The Cynic? Hardly. The fact of the matter is, just about all of that is true. Technically I'm not a bitch; while I am just about as hairy, I am in fact a human female, not a dog. That leads me to the first of many "Idiot facts" likely to be posted here. . .
Idiot fact #001: Webster's dictionary defines the word bitch as "the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals."
*glances at the quotation" That's awkwardly worded...but you get the idea. But I digress!
Why, you might ask, is this cynical recluse creating a blog? Is it to whine about how people suck, the world sucks, and her life sucks? The short answer would be no. My opinion of how much the afore-mentioned topics suck varies from day to day depending on how much sleep I've gotten. No, what I seek to do is merely to state opinions and observations. Should a general theme of "everything sucks" become evident, then I shall gladly retract any false statements I made here, and then create a new orifice in the back of my head with an unregistered handgun, because lets face it, if everything really inherently sucked, would life be worth living?
While comments are welcome and encouraged, I must warn those who use "l33t" and "net speak" that should you choose to sully my little home on the web with that trash, you are likely to be met with biting sarcasm and insults of the highest calibre. I cannot emphasise enough how much I HATE net-speak....but let us leave that for another day, shall we?
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