All Holy Sacred Week

Every year, my family and my best friend's family rent a cabin together on the Frio River. It's tradition and it's so, so, so much fun! I stay in my bathing suit all day, and then get in my pj's at night and make s'mores. It's indulgent, it's chaotic, and wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. This year, there will be four dogs, two children, one infant, two sets of parents, two married couples, me and my grandfather. Talk about chaos!!! And this year, we're having about 5 less people!!! If you thought I was crazy, just wait till you meet my family! And they don't even drink!! (I don't even want to think about what would happen if they did.) My brother's not coming this year, which is too bad, because he's the most fun. He's in Montreal. Traitor.

This week is the all-holy sacred week of the year. You are allowed to miss Christmas and even Easter, but don't you dare think about missing the River, unless you have a damned good reason...and after this year, I don't think we'll be accepting, "I'm out of the country studying architechture" as an excuse anymore. I'll be completely incomunicado (that's probably not how you spell it) as we're in the middle of nowhere. If you want to find out more, just google it! Otherwise, when you think of me, just know that I'm here:
wishing you were all there, too. Adding to the chaos.

I'm ooozing pharamones

So, apparently, if I were a piece of meat, I'd be the cut that all the guys want to eat. I can only attribute it to an unreasonable amout of pharamones. I'm not the most attractive girl on the planet. I'm not the thinnest, or the smartest, or the richest, or the classiest. So, I must give off some kind of scent that makes men think I want to have sex with them. Either that, or I look like I'm easy. (OMG! Do I look like a slut?!) There was a time in my life when I would have thought that was really cool. Now, it just makes me violent.

I DON'T WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU!!! I don't even want to hop into bed with T.O.! I'm serious!

Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned, dating, where a guy just leaves you at the door, and doesn't try to get into your pants or your bed? I enjoy sleeping alone. I like my space. And whilst, I probably don't mind a well-timed make-out session, nothing makes a girl feel more disgusting than a guy who tries to weasel his way into her pants and then doesn't call her the next day. When does cheap, meaningless sex get old for you men?! Well, as I've said before, I'm sick of it. Maybe I should date a missionary... do they date?

Equal Opportunity Woman

I was talking to my BFF yesterday and we were laughing about my make-out bandit days. The days when I would consistently have random make-out sessions with guys I didn't even know...or as I like to call them, the golden years. During this time, I really didn't feel the need to be in a committed relationship, and my life was a lot more fun. A LOT more fun. I'm still not really sure why I thought being in a committed relationship was a good idea, but I've now learned my lesson...the hard way.

Anyway, that's not the point. So, BFF and I were talking about the golden years and we realized that I had made out with at least one person from every race on the planet - except Asian. We debated a little on whether or not Middle-Eastern/Indian was a race, but since I've made out with a man of Middle-Eastern descent, it really doesn't matter.

So, what I've realized is: I'm an Equal Opportunity Woman. Martin Luther King, Jr. would be so proud. I do not discriminate based on race, creed, religion, or color! Sometimes, looks isn't even a factor!! I'm proud that I'm using my God-given gifts to bring about peace and unity! I can't believe I believed my youth minister when he told me that making out wasn't a spiritual gift, when, quite clearly, it is!!

However, there is still one problem: I've never made out with an Asian - and not because I haven't wanted to, I've just never been asked out by one. But if you are Asian and you want to help me out, just let me know!

Just know that I'm an Equal Opportunity Woman. There will be no discrimination in my caual dating or make-out practices. This is a promise! You can even get that in writing!

Okay. That's it!

Giving in to the gentle indiffernce of the world.

I'm fed up. Just sick of it. So, finally, after months of being in complete denial, I'm embracing it: my spinsterhood. The universe is against me. So, much like The Stranger, I'm just going to give in to the gentle indifference of the world. There's nothing left to do.

This is how it works for me: either the guys I go out with are complete emotional fuckwits, or I'm completely and totally repulsed by them, OR (and this is the real clincher) they'll be hot on my trail, I won't be that interested, and then because of their persistence, I'll think, "Well, maybe so and so isn't such a bad guy. Sure, let's date!" and the vagina runs the other way. This sucks. So, I give up. I give in. To the gentle indifference of the world. It's great.

But, the good news is, that whilst I may never, never, never, never, never know the joys of companionship, I'll be able to do lots of things that a girl in a commited relationship might find a little difficult.

I'll be able to wake up early to go run miles upon miles to train for that marathon I keep saying I'm going to run without being tired because no one will be trying to make sweet love to me! I'll be able to rent whatever movie I want! I'll be able to have random make-out sessions with guys I don't even know and won't have to worry about my boyfriend finding out! I'll be able to lust freely after T.O. without anybody saying stupid things like, "You don't even know T.O." or "T.O. has a girlfriend."! I'll be able to lie around in my underwear all day without anyone judging me! I'll be able to focus wholeheartedly on my career!

This is going to be great! Go me! I love spinsterhood! And let me just say thank you to all the emotional fuckwits, vaginas and repulsive idiots who got me to this place: without you, I'd be happy, contenteded, and completely unmotivated. Angry, bitchy, and driven is SO much better.

Oh, yeah! I'm American.

God bless America. I mean that. It's a great place. Sure, everybody hates us and we're fat and obnoxious and our economy is declining, blah, blah, blah, but very few of us DON'T use deodorant. And that's what makes a great. We smell good. Delicious, even, when compared to some. Body odor here in the US is frowned upon. Not so in French-Canada. Oh, no! There were smells that slapped me in the face whilst walking down the street. Not even in New York City have I ever, ever smelled such offensive and disgusting odors! And really, we all know that's saying somethin'! There was one incident, in which we were walking down the street, and with every step, the odor became increasingly more horrendous. I think my brother might have thrown up in his mouth. I just laughed hysterically.

You see, that's what I do when things get unbearably disgusting. I laugh. Hysterically. For a long time. Then I get weak in the knees and am rendered useless for at least two hours. I always, ALWAYS laugh at fart jokes. Guess which part I laughed the hardest at in dumb and dumber? You guessed it! That horrible, laxitive, massivie farting scene. It's true. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is.

So you can imagine, the amount of laughter and thereby energy I expended while walking the streets of Montreal. I'm still recovering.

Bon Soir

Im in Montreal livin' la vida loca. But, la vida loca has limited internet access. Who knew? Will post pics when I'm American again.