'Till death do us part...

...what's the point if you're both miserable?

There are times when I will be sitting in my favourite chair at Starbucks watching the patrons come in and out, and I will spot an old couple whispering to each other softly over a shared muffin and tall lattes. Through the years of adversity, they persevered and came out of it not hating each other. These couples always make me smile. There are far too few of them.

More often, I see middle-aged couples screaming at each other, any tenderness and affection they felt long gone, replaced by a seething resentment for years wasted and opportunities lost. Sometimes they stay together "for the kids." Sometimes they only stay together because they're both too stubborn to "admit defeat." Sometimes it's a combination of the two, or in some cases bizarre, perverse reasons incomprehensible to anyone who hasn't known the joys of marital bliss.

I have a pair of relatives who fit into that category. My aunt is married to a man who barely qualifies as a human. He spends his days rooted to a broken easy chair while his 600 pound ass continues to expand and his limbs slowly rot from lack of use. This man has made the past 37 years of her life a living hell. The woman says on a regular basis that she hates his guts, and that he drives her crazy. When asked why she has stayed with him, she doesn't even give a straight answer. Maybe years of being a victim has left her believing that if she doesn't have a sad excuse for a husband to complain about, she'll lose what few family ties she has left. Maybe she just feels an obligation to stay with that horse's ass. God knows the man wouldn't survive long without her there. The dumb fucker can't even stand without help. The thing is, my aunt is not a bad woman. She doesn't deserve to spend whatever time she has left stuck with that sentient tumor draining whatever self respect she has left. Life is too short to spend it in misery.

I've seen far less extreme instances where people have ended up just as miserable. Parents who stay together for the sake of their children don't give their kids enough credit. Kids know when their parents are fighting. It doesn't take a lot of cognitive ability to figure out the fact that a pair of people can't stand eachother. Just because you can be civil doesn't mean your distain for your spouse isn't painfully obvious.

What people don't seem to realize is that no one wins in situations like this. My aunt's son is a fine example. 18 years of living with a mildly retarded lunatic and a woman too stubborn to leave him left the poor guy with more issues than National Geographic.

What really saddens me is the fact that by the time marital unions deteriorate so far that there is no love left, there often comes with it a sense of resentment and a desire to make one's partner miserable. When they finally admit it's time for divorce, they're already so mad at eachother that they choose to continue torturing each other through the divorce process rather than trying to make it as quick and painless as possible.

Why does this happen? Why do people choose to keep riding the masochistic marry-go-round that is an unhappy marriage when nothing good will come of it?

Life is short, people. Why make your lives unnecessarily miserable?

What the hell is wrong with women these days?

This post could be on any number of topics, most noteably the issue about women starving and mutilating themselves to keep up with the impossible standard set by the media. I am delighted to inform you that it is not. Don't get me wrong, that is a huge issue. What people don't seem to realize is that you have to deal with a problem at the source when it is still small, otherwise it's damned near impossible to fix the damage that has been done. Besides, there have been more than enough rants and articles about eating disorders and plastic surgery. I'm taking a slightly different route.

Has anyone else ever noticed that many girls seem to feel the need to play dumb in the presence of men? It seems that every time I leave the house, I encounter at least one girl who clearly has the potential to be a smart, sensible individual acting like a moron just because there's a possibility of getting fucked.

Is this some sort of leftover behaviour from back when women were considered property? Do girls still believe that they have to pretend to be cretins in order to get any attention from the opposite sex? Maybe there is some kernel of truth to this belief. It seems like the sexy bimbo is always the one who ends up with men eating out of the palm of her hand. But honestly, is a bit of affection really worth more than respect? Call me crazy, but I would choose to live my life alone with the respect I deserve before I would roll over and beg for a roll in the sack with some dude who can't count past ten without taking off his shoes.

A few girls I know seem to think that pretending to be an idiot is cute. For those who might be reading this, allow me to clarify a few things for you: IT'S NOT CUTE, AND IT'S NOT FUNNY! For any other females who have the misfortune to experience this nauseating display, it's annoying as hell. Any males who see you act like this will at best tag you as an easy lay. Pull your head of your ass and take a good, long look at yourself. If you don't see an error to your ways, you deserve the inevitable shitty treatment you have coming to you.

The Power of Words

Occasionally, while I am performing routine tasks on autopilot, I find myself pondering about the strangest things. People, human condition, the state of humanity...people-related things, essentially.

While I was taking a shower (no need to think too deeply about that oh-so-charming mental image), I started pondering. I am a quiet person, usually. Unless I happen to get involved in a converation that has something to do with a subject I am passionate about, or I am feeling particularly sociable, what few things I say are short and to the point. This can lead to conflict between myself and those I live with, as both people are talkative and energetic. One of them has learned that when I respond to questions with grunts and monosyllables, it's unwise to engage me in conversation. The other hasn't lived with me for far as long, thus she has yet to learn that little fact. This has led to some unfortunate situations where she has wandered up to my room chattering away, and I have ended up asking her with all the elloquence I can muster (usually not very much) to shut up. I always end up feeling terrible about it afterward. That's what got me thinking tonight.

Words are powerful things. With one word, you can make a man feel like the king of the world. Conversely, with that same word spoken in a different tone you can wound him so deeply he never really recovers. Words are a gift, allowing us to express ourselves the way no other species can. As I coast along, observing the general populace from the outside looking in, I see more and more that people seem to have forgotten the value of such an amazing gift. People toss around words as if they're nothing. Words that used to carry so much weight, so much meaning, are used as if they have no value. People say "I love you" on the first date in an attempt to get laid, and the person who does the laying doesn't think twice about it when their "lover" never calls them again. People will chatter away, but never say anything at all. Nothing they say has any real meaning, no real weight. It's all just inane babble.

Every once in a while, I'll meet a truly brilliant person. They're easy to identify. They're quiet, wistful, often lost in thought, but when they try to say something, it comes out as little more than a mumble. This is a great injustice...the people who really have something to say, the ones who think about something other than how long it's been since they've gotten laid/drunk/stoned/arrested, are stiffled by the masses. I have a message for all the people out there who want to speak, but feel that they can't:

When you feel the compulsion to speak, do it clearly, calmly, and loudly. If your words go unawknowledged, keep saying them until they're heard.

They're celebrities. GET THE FUCK OVER IT!

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.

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.

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.

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!)

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.

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.

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."

*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?