My girlfriend visited this past weekend. In the midst of a long, drawn out story I waited weeks to tell her, she interrupted, "You've the ability to make the most mundane things interesting."
I'm not a great fan of Starbucks. I think their coffee sucks. Their beans are burnt to crap and that's why you need 14 gallons of sugar to make one cup palatable. WTF do I know? I lived in Colombia where coffee tastes of chocolate, fresh and freshly brewed every morning by maids. Since then, I've become a coffee elitist bitch and rarely is my cultivated palate satisfied.
The most rewarding feeling I ever had was when someone told me gossip about someone who did me wrong, not knowing my involvement, of sorts.
It's a recurrent theme in my blog posts to those of you repeat readers, but, honestly, what the fuck's wrong with people nowadays? This time my rant's focused on some recent fucked up activity. Now, the guy I'm writing about reads my blog, something I just found out. I know there's going to be considerable backlash as to this posting.
For a woman who doesn't get around, I get around. I'm mostly home-bound because of my weirdo neurological deafness. Even so, I'm like a magnet and attract countless men, situations and drama without ever leaving my deck.
I'm in a shitty mood. It's two days since I returned from NYC and still can't get up to par. For the noise really does kill me. I'm sick and tired trying to describe what I have to the same fucking people. Repeatedly. They just don't get it; they just don't want to get it. And that's the crux of the story. Fucking insensitive asswipes.
I had an interesting lunch yesterday which I'm still digesting in several ways. I try to lump all the things I need to do in one trip to make the most of my time the rare venture into NYC. The purpose of this trip was to see my dear friend as well as my tattoo artist who only comes to NY three times a year. Luckily, we both scheduled tattoos back to back.
The last time I checked, I didn't have the word "SCHMUCK" emblazoned on my face. So, why do people assume that I'm gonna take it up the ass, quietly?