Release the brain fart

I began this year doing pretty well with my weight loss. I was putting effort into eating right, I was going to PT on time, I was doing extra PT at home. I mean, I was a fucking beast. I can do at least 3 pushups now. That may not mean much to you, but for someone with no upper body strength and who was pretty much a lazy piece of shit that means plenty! I’m sure I can run and do more situps than I ever could before.

However, now I seem to be going backwards instead of forward. I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the building stress, maybe it was hormones, maybe it was the lack of sex, who really knows. But one day I got up and I was pretty much going food crazy. I was eating everything like a mad woman.


I would then look at my growing pudge and tell myself, It’s okay, You can work it off tomorrow…I’m still waiting for tomorrow to come.

I have this one friend that has a habit of putting me down all the time. Friends apparently do that, but there’s a certain tone and process that one goes about when insulting a friend. For one, when you can obviously see that they feel gross, you don’t tell them that they are gross. It hurts, it sucks, and for a while I felt like absolute shit and wanted to stab her in the eye with a ballpoint papermate black ink pen. I sat in my bedroom and wallowed for a bit while the voice in my head was going “I am a fucking loser” with my hands widespread in the air, shouting up to the rainbows. Then I got over it. I literally woke up and said this bitch has nothing on me. And you know why? Because I’m awesome. duh.


I haven’t written about love in a while and let me tell you, not thinking about that shit has done wonders for my health. I love my boyfriend dearly and although things seemed rough for a moment, I realized that it was all in my head. I was manifesting problems that were not there because my heart is obviously full of shit, So I had to remind her kindly to mind her gotdamn motherfucking business and that her job was pump blood and not a damn thing else.

I’ve seen people do some crazy shit for love and It concerns me a little. I mean, if the world was the kind of place where you had to shoot yourself to show your love, I’m sure a lot of people would be dead. Why? Because they like the attention and want to make it seem like they have the perfect love life. Now, I’m not saying I don’t love my boyfriend enough to shoot myself, but If I had to, I was shooting myself in the leg. The thigh preferably. I mean, I love you, but I’m not a friggin idiot.

To add to that, Have you noticed how people make everything harder than it should be? A yes or not question can turn into an essay sometimes and I think that’s what makes things difficult. Be honest with yourself. Sometimes you may be wrong, but shit, it’s better than beating around the bush. At the end, your choices are what matters. Ask me if I want to beat certain people in the head with a 40 pound rucksack. Of course I do. I’ll tell you yes. I’ll yell it to the high heavens. That doesn’t mean I’m going to do it though….yet.

Jurassic Park is in 3D, so it’s pretty much like Titanic and the Lion King on the list of movies that are ancient but were remade so you can see the shit flying at you to give you a semi-heart attack and so you can waste your money to see the exact same fucking movie you watched a decade ago.

But I digress.

I saw someone write “Rawr” means I love you in dinosaur. And I admit, I used to write it too because it sounded cute…until I realized how moronic it is. This isn’t “A land before time” Little foot may have made you believe that dinosaurs are cute and musical but Even little foot can stomp the shit out of you on a good day just because she/he/it could. What the hell was little foot anyways? A guy? If so, clearly he needed to hit puberty with that high pitched, whiny voice.

If you have never seen Jurrasic Park or any dinosaur movie, then I suggest you take a gander at them and you will learn that “rawr” doesn’t mean “I love you” it means “I’m going to fucking eat you.”

You know what’s sexy? Suits and Uniform oh, and my guy’s sleepy voice.  I don’t know why but these make my hormones levels raise to heights that would one would consider above and beyond normal.




Instagram Rules

Do you have an instagram? If not, that’s fine, no one is forcing you to conform to society’s need to broadcast your every waking move, meal, and thoughts.

However, for those of you that do have one, have you ever noticed the people that nag and complain about what people should and should not do on your own page? Well I certainly have and let me tell you it is a task each and every day to not want to go upside their head with a brick.

Aside from the rules stated in the terms and agreement, which I just know you all read, there appears to be a second set of rules that seemed to have been misplaced.

Allow me to list and describe them for you:

Rule #1 : You cannot put 15 exact replicate pictures of yourself in different styles/picstitches/pose, in less than 2 minutes. PEOPLE ACTUALLY DO THIS. And I have to admit, it is terribly annoying. Imagine scrolling through your feed and you see this one person’s face at least 15 times with basically the same damn picture. But, it is their page. When It gets to this point, why not just unfollow them? Oh the same goes for folks that upload pictures of textgrams or supposedly funny images.

Rule #2 : Hashtags are a no no. Some people feel that they are too good for hashtags and as such they feel that everyone else must not use them. I use hashtags as of lately. Why? Because I fucking can. They actually do something and there are people that look for certain tags (like How I tend to look for Tall, muscular, darkskin men because they are so gotdamn fine) the problem, however, comes from folks who hashtag things like #oh #idk #like #this #because #every #word #needs #to #be #tagged …. Really now? But again, your page. It ain’t ruining my day.

Rule #3: Ratings. Instagram went through this phase where people were doing group rates. It was a terrible time for instagram. Many lives were lost in this epidemic, but thankfully the instagram world is recovering from that plague. I guess it was a fun game, it was supposed to liven things up, it created drama, but of course people just hated it.

Rule #4: Shoutouts. Some folks, do a shoutout for people when they like at least 6 or more of their pictures in a row. I don’t. why? Because it’s like I am putting that person on the spot. Why should everyone know that you liked so many of my pictures? And frankly it makes my page look so unorganized. Again, it’s disliked thing. It was another terrible epidemic that swiped through instagram because it was abused to the point that you wanted to cyber slap people.

Rule #5: Food. Okay, we’ve seen them. You know where I am going with this. When someone uploads a picture of food on instagram, you think it would be a 5 star meal. These days, five star meals look like cornflakes, noodles, snacks, whatever you can think of. It’s basic meals. Unattractive meals. No amount of filter can make them look like an awesometastic meal no matter how much you try. But alas, that’s what is being done. It’s stupid, it’s ridiculous, and that leads to rule number five, stop uploading your crappy meals for the world to see.

Does it seem like I am one of the people that created these rules? Nah, I’m not. I don’t care really. Because when it all comes down to it, when you break my newsfeed with your bullshit, I happen to know that I can unfollow you the same way that I followed you to begin with. No hard feelings. You were just being obnoxious.


He ate my ice cream

No, this is not a sexual innuendo. This is a tale of hurt and betrayal. A tale about how easily trust can be broken when your back is turned.

Okay, it’s not that serious, but it’s just as bad.

So, during the break when the Lovely other half was here, I was being nice and decided to bring him some ice cream. It was done out of the kindness of my heart, as was many things during his visit.

So I go to the kitchen and grab a cup for both of us a cup. His cup was larger than mine in height and in width (the black cup in the photo), and mines was the transparent cup. I didn’t want a lot and figured he would enjoy having a large amount.

I fill his cup beyond capacity and barely full mines at all. I was also trying to save some ice cream for later.

I return to the bedroom where he was laying back, chilling with his phone in hand as usual. I had him his cup and rest my mines on the night stand near my bed.

This is where the betrayal begins.

Our daughter demands attention. I take her and deliver her to my grandmother with the necessary items that she would be needing and I also linger a bit to show my grandmother my schedule for my classes. When that was over I return to the room.

Upon arrival, I notice something strange about the room.

His cup was on the nightstand, and he was back on his phone. But something was bothering me.

601217_195881667224370_1432133453_nAs I near my cup, I come upon the scene of the crime.

The Bastard Ate My Ice Cream. 

As my face takes on the lock of shock, he has the audacity to bellow out with laughter. Of course he knew what he had done.

I attack.

In the midst of me trying to beat him up (which by the way was pointless because he laughed throughout the entire beating) He asks “They weren’t mine?” WHAT?

He explains to me and I quote! “I thought you brought both cups for me because mine was so little”

Greedy bastard says what?

He didn’t even apologize! He just laughed and kept repeating that he thought both was for him when he damn well knew the other one was mine! I wished the worst of all tummy hurts on him but my prayers went unanswered and I had to return to the kitchen and finish what was left in the ice cream bowl. Yes I got ice cream after all but it wasn’t the same!

I continue to futilely beat him to a pulp and promise not to ever leave food lying around when he was nearby.

If you can’t trust a man with your food, what can you trust him with?!

Nothing! Nothing I tell you.

Where’s My Food?

I have a tale to tell. Please do take a seat.

I had this strange craving for chocolate ice cream and tried to get my sister to take me anywhere to get it. Needless to say, she forgot about my pain. However, being the cunning little fox that I am, when she was leaving to take my brothers to some party I decided to tag along for “The drive.” My nefarious plan, of course, was to get her to stop so I could get my ice cream. My other brother wanted something as well, but he’s not important right now.

So, we’re on the road, got rid of the extra testosterone in the car, and Yay! We’re going to get my Ice cream. But not just any ice cream, we decide to go to Wendy’s to get a Frosty instead. Close enough. I get hungry and order food as well, our total was $11.62.

Now here is where I get…Confused.

After we paid for the food, and by we I mean me, My sister drives forward towards the next window….then keeps going.

I can’t express to you what my facial expression was, but I think O.O sums it up pretty well.

The conversation went like this.

  • Me: “Yash, where are you going?”
  • Sis: “Oh, I didn’t want to reverse so I’m going around.”

My brain does a little working here and I think, Oh, well she must have driven a little too far and because she’s weird like that, she’s going to go around. Luckily, there was no one behind us.

And here is where I realize, she’s not being logical, but absent minded.

Not only does she proceed to drive around like she said she would, My sister drove towards the EXIT. WITHOUT. MY. FOOD.

  • Me: “WHERE THE *Censored* ARE YOU GOING????”
  • Sis: “Home” (has the nerve to look at me like ‘Duh’)
  • Sis: “What you mean?”
  • Sis: “Oh Shit!” *drive around again and back to the window”
  • Me: “F YOU MEAN ‘OH SHIT'”
  • Sis: *hysterically laughing*

Now, you might think she was Joking around, but she was dead serious. She honestly thought we had already picked up the food and was about to drive home and leave my $11.62 behind. 

Thinking back on it, it was pretty funny. But I was seething the entire way home while she was laughing at her own stupidity. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was high, and while the temptation to throw her out of the vehicle and beat her with my milkshake in the streets of Austell was very strong, I had to remind myself that she was A) she was my sister, B) I needed her to drive home, and most importantly….I really wanted that Milkshake.