The REAL Ugly Truth

I have just completed the viewing of the romantic comedy The Ugly Truth. It was a two hour event filled with a flurry of stomach flutters, uncontrollable giggling, and thuddings of a rapidly beating heart whenever Gerard Butler would grace the screen in all his sexy glory as the chauvinistic yet charming Mike Chadway. Mmmmmmm. Yummy. So, so, yummy. And allow me to tell you why. Mike Chadway first off is being presented within the steamy, devilish vessel of Gerard Butler. So, there's like a bazillion points right there. Furthermore, he is charming, confident, and successful. Three major things women find attractive in a man. Of course he has his faults. Womanizer. Chauvinistic. Doesn't believe in love. But as the film progresses we find out that this anti-love, chauvinistic man whore has a dazzling, vulgar sense of humor (maybe not every girl's dream quality but a HUGE plus in my book), a sweet little nephew that lives next door that he serves as a devoted father figure for, and a love, yes love, for the neurotic, control freak Abby. How kick ass is that? He has a douche bag outer shell with a sweet and creamy nice guy filling. I mean, this guy actually gives up a high paying, prestigious TV job cause he wants to continue to live next door to his nephew so he can take care of him. Awwwwwww! And he gets his little heart broken when Abby disses him for the doctor next door. Double awwwwwww! And the only reason why he is an outer douche bag in the first place is because he's gotten his heart broken so many times. Triple awwwwwww! Is he not just adorable, precious, and just everything........MMMMMMMMMMMMM. *sighs dreamily*

Now here's where I deliver my version of the ugly truth. MIKE CHADWAYS DO NOT EXIST! There is no such thing as the charming, flirtatious, unattainable cause he's too busy chasing pussy nice guy. It's a complete bullshit dream that we women have been chasing for entirely too long. There is no sweet little nephew next door. There is no history of him getting his wittle heart bwoken by the big bad scawy women. And there sure as hell will never be the moment where he looks into your eyes and says, "I love you" and actually mean it. Nope. No way. No how. Sorry. We'd like to think that that mysterious, unattainable flirt has a sweet side, a sensitive side, a side that goes to children's hospitals on the weekends and makes little balloon animals for kids. But nope. There is only the tail chasing, arrogant prick that he does a very apt job at portraying. And don't get mad at him, ladies when he breaks your heart. He let you know what you were getting yourself into. It was you that convinced yourself that this guy wasn't as deep as a puddle. It was you that convinced yourself that you'd be different.

Now don't beat yourselves up too long for being so foolish as to chase the fake Mike Chadways. We all do it. It's just a right of passage all us ladies must make. Here is a personal fav of mine:

Boyfriend: I don't fall in love.
Me (thinking): Oh, you'll fall in love with me.
Months later during our break up.....
Boyfriend: I don't love you now and I never loved you.

Conclusion: A prick but I can't say he didn't warn me.

So, ladies, remember; if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck then it's probably a duck.

Chicago Trip and More.....

(I go into an Indian restaraunt to order take out.)
Me: Make it spicy...very spicy...like spicy with the intent to kill.

**********

Me: What would an out of town trip be without a 40 to 50 year old man hitting on me.

**********

Jon: I went to my locker and April had put this little glow in the dark plastic sperm on it and it really meant something to me, you know? Like...I knew she cared.

**********

Mom: I need to go to the bathroom.
(Mom gets out of the car to go to gas station bathroom. Later Mom returns.)
Mom: Well...I didn't make it.

**********

Jon: Well! I'm not going to sexually harass you anymore.

**********

Toma: Oh my God! I'm directing a porno!
Me: And I'm ashamed to have written it.

**********

Jon: Well, April was eating this ice cream very...provacatively.
Me: I was not!
Jon: Yes. You were.
Me: I was just eating ice cream.
Jon: No, you weren't. Anyways, while she was doing this I called over to her that she had a little bit of white stuff on her face. And every time I saw her I'd tell her that.
Me: Ugh.
Jon: But then one day she-
Me: I got sick of you sexually harassing me so I decided to freak you out so you'd leave me alone.
Jon: And when I told her she had some white stuff on her face she-
Me: I went (I take my finger and wipe off this "white stuff" and lick it off my finger.)
Jon: And I thought, "Wow. She likes me."
Me: As you can see it had the opposite effect of what I was going for.

**********

Marisa: HELENA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why Can't the English Learn to Feel?

Henry Higgins (God, I love that musical) once posed the question, "Why can't the English learn to speak?" Good question I must admit. For the life of me I've never understood the thing they do where they put an r at the end of a word that proceeds a word that begins with a vowel. For example, instead of the simple and accepted "I saw it" an English person will say, "I sawr it." They say they do this because it sounds better but it doesn't change the fact that they are adding a letter that is NOT there! But being a Kentuckian I must confess I have no right to lecture others on proper pronounciation. Our dialect is so peculiar we can barely understand each other. Kindergarten is "kidneygarden". Flower is "flier". Do you want to is "Y'ont to?". Wolf is "woof". Pool is "Poo". Kentuckians aren't very fond of Ls. "The kidneygardener took a poo in the poo and it don't smell like fliers. Y'ont ta clean it up?" Whew. Plus, I think British accents are cute and would hate to see them change. So, unlike Henry Higgins, I am not too concerned with why the English can't learn to speak. I'm more concerned with why the English can't learn to feel.

What got me on this topic is that I was persuaded by my friend Marisa to watch Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth version. Mmmmmmm. Colin Firth. I'd love for that big Englishman to just rip off my clothes, throw me on the kitchen table and "plant his flag.") Ahem. But I digress. Throughout this film (and every other Jane Austen book based film which are all pretty much the same) I discovered something that just...perplexes me and quite frankly irritates me. That something is the complete and total lack of passion. A proposal in such a film/book usually consists of someone standing all sour-faced with straight as an ironing board posture calmly declaring, "Over the past few months when I frequented your estate, dear madam I have grown to hold an admiration for you and, dare I say, even love. Due to this recent development in events I think it is only logical that we should engage in the act of marrying. What are your sentiments on this matter, may I ask?" Wow. Calm down there tiger. You're getting way too worked up. In matters of anger there is even LESS emotion. "Good God, that fellow is rather cheeky, I must say. We shall never invite that chap to tea again." Even today England is reported to be one of the countries that shows the least amount of affection in public and even in discourse they enjoy keeping distance between them and the individual they are having a conversation with. I'm not saying this just from experience. It was a matter discussed in a culture class as well. The French and even some Latinos engage in the act of kissing on the cheek. Certain cultures in the middle east are practically up on each other when they talk. But not the English. God forbid.

I'm not certain why this is. Perhaps it's the whole island thing. "I am a rock. I am an island cause a rock feels no pain and an island never cries." Good ol' Simon and Garfunkle. Or perhaps it's because of all the invasions they've endured where all their strong men were slaughtered and all their beautiful and vivacious women were stolen and taken away. These series of tragic events might explain their lack of passion...and trust just as America being Europe's garbage can might explain our lack of good sense and moral character. But you make the best of what you got. It's just difficult for Americans to understand the English's way of dealing with matters of the heart. I do not doubt that they possess a vast reservoir of emotion. I have some friends from England who have done a fine job demonstrating this. What Americans cannot comprehend though is why the English find expressing these emotions so difficult. Expressing emotion is not something we have a hard time with. Containing it is where we run into trouble.

America: How dare Japan attack one of our military targets. Let's go drop some atomic bombs on their cities full of innocent women and children. That'll show them!

America: God I hate Vietnam! Argh! Let's just burn this motherfucker down. JUST BURN THIS MOTHERFUCKER DOWN! Hand me some of that Agent Orange shit.

America: Excuse me, cashier? That tea should not be that expensive.
Cashier: English sales tax, sir.
America: This is some fucking bullshit! Where's my damn gun?! Lobster back motherfuckers think they can tax me? HA!

Yes. America has no problem with emotions (expressing them that is.)

One of my exes was British and he always enjoyed doing impersonations of the dialogue that occurs during English sex. "Is that nice? Yes? It is? Very well then. Should I continue? Yes? Very well then. This is very nice indeed." I know he was merely joking but to every joke there is always a kernel of truth. I was with him for 6 months and to this day I am still not certain whether he ever truly cared for me at all. He was so friggin English with his emotions it was hard for me to know where I stood. Today he might pine for me every waking moment of his life or if when someone mentions my name he might genuinely go, "April? Who's that?" Neither result would surprise me. It's no wonder arranged marriages were so popular in England for so long. I doubt anything would have gotten started and/or resolved if it were left up to the individual's ability to express emotion and feeling.

However, I am given hope by the vast majority of my English friends that emotion is starting to be felt and even embraced in our generation. Perhaps within the next 50 years or so England might be on par with America's ability to express emotion. Can you imagine it? America and England, two of the most powerful and influential countries in the world, whirling about in a flurry of uninhibited emotion. It would be fantastic! It would be glorious! It would be the Apacolypse! It would...hmmm. Maybe you should hold off on that whole developing emotions thing, England. I mean, one of us has to have some sense, right?

Unconditional Love

Unconditional love...hmmm...unconditional love. It's talked about a lot but does it really exist? I mean, what is unconditional love to begin with? If we just look at the words it's a love without conditions. Sounds nice. But don't we all journey through life with conditions and choose to only love those who meet those conditions? And if that's so then I guess unconditional love is a load of hooey. *Hiss. Blah. Peh. Pish. Hmph.* <---- The usual bitter aura of the conclusions I come to. But then I stopped and thought on the matter a little further. Surely everyone who we love will at least once disappoint, hurt, and/or betray us someday thus breaking one or many of our "conditions" and what then do we do? Well, sometimes we hate them and other times...we still love them. And I guess that's where the unconditional love thing comes in. It's rare and an almost impossible thing to earn, especially outside of the bonds of family, but it does happen.

I'm baffled by this "unconditional love". It does not know logic, pattern, method, or reason. It just is. And my God, it's AMAZING! Every time I am presented with undeniable proof that I have an unconditional love for someone I am completely floored by its strength, its beauty, and its ability to know no bounds. How is it that someone can slight me with something trivial and I can never want to see them again and then have someone else do something that by all logical standards should be deemed unforgiveable yet not only can I forgive them but I can still love them. And I'm not referring just to the love one has for a significant other but the love one can have for a friend as well. To stop loving them isn't really even an option. A person who has earned your unconditional love can inflict an insurmountable amount of pain on you and yet even as they hurt you...it's like you forgave them the moment they did it. You still cry over it and perhaps for healthy and logical reasons the relationship cannot continue but...you still love them. You keep waiting for the hate and disgust to manifest but it doesn't. So, you tell yourself that you're in shock and that you just haven't accepted it yet. But time passes and...you realize that you forgive them and that they have indeed earned that unconditional love.

I know some might not understand the conclusion I've come to from my own experiences and witnessing other's. They might post the query, "But if you unconditionally love someone then wouldn't you still continue a relationship?" But unfortunately love, though it is many wonderful things, is not simple. In fact, it's very complicated and sometimes the greatest thing one can do for someone they love is to walk away and let them live their life to the fullest and happiest degree they can. And letting someone do that, letting someone you love go cause it's the right thing to do...well, I don't think there is a greater demonstration of unconditional love out there.

Been Awhile Since I've Done the Quote Bit So...

********** Me: With relationships you can either choose to die alone or finally just give up and settle. Marisa: Wow. You are so jaded, dude. ********** Mom: We bought Radar a pair of baby pajamas. Me: Like a Onesie...for a human baby? Mom: Yeah. He was so cute. And if you held him just right he looked like an actual baby. Me: That's seriously messed up, Mom. Mom: We took pictures of him. Me: Ugh. ********** Me: His ballsack is too heavy so he had to sit down. Marisa: Awwww. Poor thing. ********** Marisa: Do you want to watch America's Sweethearts with me? Me: No. You know how I feel about romance. Marisa: God! You're bitter! ********** (Decided to watch America's Sweethearts with Marisa.) John Cusack: How can you be in love with someone you don't even like? Me: I don't know, man. But you're right. Whew. Sucks. (Marisa probably took this time to look at me and silently pray that she will never become me.) ********** Me: That play was full of so much left-wing propaganda it made me want to go out and give the rich tax breaks, litter, and club a baby seal. Mom: Really? Me: Yeah! But you know how I am. If someone preaches to me about something I've gotta go do the opposite. Like with that play Dead Man Walking. I walked into the theatre against the death penalty and walked out totally for it.

Karma's a Bitch

Karma's a bitch someone told me today when they informed me of one of enemy's status in life. Well, no doubt it is in this case; a crazy, evil, psychotic, over-reacting bitch to be precise. Now don't get me wrong. This individual, who has recently been struck by the beast Karma, is my enemy so no doubt they're a bundle of bastard, but enemy or not, I'm a firm believer that the punishment should fit the crime. In this scenario it surely does not.

To be brief (and vague) on this enemy's character, I will state that he is a borderline sociopath. He is a womanizer. He is an elitist. He manipulates. He sows destruction in the lives of everyone who crosses his path. Sometimes I've wondered if perhaps he's a racist even. So, not a good guy. And God knows after how he treated someone dear to me I've wished many an awful curse upon him. I even verbally assaulted him with the wish, "I hope your dick rots off." However, today I have found something out about my enemy which is...he's dying. Yes. He's dying. And one would think I might find some sick pleasure in this but nay I do not. In fact, when I first heard this gruesome news my initial reaction was to cry. He's an ass. Yes. He's my enemy. Yes. But does such an individual deserve death? HELL NO! I mean, aside from the above stated characteristics, he is also very intelligent and a hard worker; basically a good asset to society. He just happens to suffer from psychopathy which prevents him from being able to interact with people in a healthy way. He can't help the way he is. I guess that's why I feel so sorry for him. I know it must be difficult at times for him to be a good person when he was not blessed with the innate moral compass that the vast majority of us possess. And I find myself...sad. Very sad. And it's a confusing emotion. I mean, I can't stand him but I didn't want this to happen to him. It's just...awful. Just awful.

As the deliverer of this news told me that it was karma striking him I have to say that I think karma over-reacted. I mean, if every asshole that took advantage of people was struck with a deadly illness there'd be...well...hardly anyone left. Strike him with poverty. Strike him with limp dick syndrome. Strike him with a car crash that puts him in the hospital for a few weeks so he can think about what he's done...but death? Seems a bit extreme, don't you think, Karma? And that's why I've decided that sometimes shit just happens. I don't know why it happens. But it does. And I can say I'm shaken by this news. I honestly don't even know if I should express these feelings much less put them on this blog. But hardly anyone reads this blog anyways, so what's the harm? But I'm disturbed by this recent development in this individual's life. I've thought of writing him to express my sympathy but thought that would be hypocritical and we all know how I can't stand hypocrites. (See: Um...WHAT!?!?!?) Plus, he'd probably just spit in my eye. And furthermore, just because someone is dying doesn't mean you should excuse the awful acts they've committed but...I don't know. I suppose I still aknowledge he's a bad person but feel sorry for him. And perhaps maybe even some guilt at times for having said so many horrible things to him when last we spoke. Granted they were all true (at least I hope I didn't misjudge him) but...I suppose I'm just a glutton for guilt. And this is really all I have to say about this for now. And as silly, hypocritical, and/or self-righteous this may seem...he will be in my prayers.

Um...WHAT!?!?!?!

Hypocrites. The subject of today's rant. I don't think I'm going out on a limb here when I say that hypocrites are members of society that everyone generally despises. What's to like? They're individuals who go around sowing seeds of slander and suffering whilst going about doing whatever they please. Assholes.

Now I understand it's near impossible to not form an opinion of others. It's as natural as breathing though under the spiritual counseling of Sarah Ingier I have tried to take the approach of having a preference rather than making a judgement. For example, "I would prefer that a certain friend not have stolen my Heart of the Ocean." Not "If I ever find out who stole my Heart of the Ocean I'm going to kill that lying, stealing motherfucker and send them straight to Hell where they belong." Though that may be a more exciting and interesting approach it's not neccesarily the most healthy. So, do not think that I expect people to not form an opinion of others. However, they can sure as hell keep their mouth shut and look to their own business. There are exceptions to this but they involve looking to yourself first.

An example to illustrate my point. One of my exes' girlfriends once told my friend that I was a slut and she assumed this because of how I dressed. Well, of course being a good friend he immediately told her to shut her mouth and that I wasn't a slut. I didn't confront her on this because I know she doesn't know me very well and personally I have bigger fish to fry and God only knows the lies my ex has told her. However, today I was informed by a friend that this girl who had the nerve to call me a slut has a certain recreational activity that involves her going up to guys at parties and saying, "I don't want anything to come of this. I just want to suck you off." And she recently left my ex for another man (which can't say that I blame her there) but here's the kicker- she's not just having sex with this guy, she's having a threesome with him and some other chick. And I'm the whore? Um...WHAT!?!?! (See title) What right has a constant cock sucking, threesome-having individual have to call me a whore just because I like to dress a certain way? I've said this in rants before and I'll say it again: I've only ever kissed 6 guys in my entire life so you can imagine how low the number is concerning other things if I'm that picky who I kiss. Furthermore, if you're a girl and you're going to have a threesome make it two guys and Eiffel Tower away. I mean, if you're going to participate in such a scandalous act do it right. Then again, I can see where it would be nice to have someone in the bedroom for once, besides yourself, that can find the clitoris. But I can't see the appeal two women would have for a man. Now instead of one disatisfied woman he can have two. But I guess that's what the extra girl is there for. To do what most men are completely useless at- giving a woman pleasure.

I'm not entirely certain what the point of this rant is except to say don't be like that bitch. Don't be a little hypocrital cunt. Wait. Excuse me. Prefer, April. Don't judge. *deep breath* I would prefer that you not be a hypocritical cunt. There. Better. Sarah would be so proud.