really good bad tv

There is absolutley no reason for me to be awake right now. It is 10:51pm on a school night.

But here I am, in my gym clothes, from my 15 minute hard core workout followed by peanut butter, next to my dog who has eaten practically everything in my home. There are broken pencils, sheets of paper, my mothers eyeglass case, and pieces of my carpet scattered all over the place.

But I'm awake to do nothing. Not to clean. Let's get that straight.

Tracey Morgan is on The Marriage Ref with Kathy Griffin and the gay guy from the bird cage, and I have to say it's pretty hilarious. Tracey is loud and screams a lot about things he doesnt think about first, and I really can't wait to see more of him. Kathy Griffin actually said something funny. The other guy just laughed a lot.

The show is about a couple that has "problems" that needs intervention. You see a 5 minute clip of said crazy couple, and then 3 celebrities who know about sex and divorce give their advice. For one of the fights, one guys wife was trying to shove a forkful of green bean casserole into her husbands mouth, and he resisted, and she held him back and put it in. He thought it tasted like garbage. I've never been in a 'real' relationship myself, but is having a significant other really like this? It's sad to say it doesn't really turn me off.

Ah, romance.

Night, plumkins.

I do it for the sarcasm

the ability to laugh at anything that pisses you off
and gives you an extra excuse to raise your eyebrows
and make awkward faces

understood?

an easy sell

My father and mother separated when I was 12 years old. It was me and my mother alone until I went to college, and quite honestly I’m proud of myself from coming out sane.

Kind of.

My mother never let me sleep in. Even on weekends. Even on holidays. She would rage into the room, open the shades, and tell me it was time to get up, things needed to be done. This is why I valued the hours before the sun came up. They were mine and only mine.

Most of the time.

One “morning” at 3am, I heard my mother’s voice screech my name and I was terrified. Was she okay? What did I do this time?

I walked downstairs solemnly, knowing that no good vibrations could come from that scream. I went into the basement where she was continuing to bellow from three floors down.

“YOU LEFT THE DOW-A UNLOCKED! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?”

Her eyes were ravenous as she marched closer and pulled my arm to look at the fascination of an unlocked door.

“Anyone could come in, and then what?” She demanded.

I thought to myself about our neighbors.

To the right was a homely couple who didn’t have enough money for vacation, but had rich getaways in the backyard all the time as they watched their ten-year old mishap son twirl in circles on the lawn.

Then I thought of our neighbors to the left, the retired couple whose Mrs. was in rehab for overeating, and whom my mother constantly sent leftovers to.

Then I thought about how late I would be up.

“You don’t THINK, Teresa!” My mother continued. “What goes on in that head of yours?”

I wanted to tell I wish I knew.

Her mascara was dark and prominent under her eyes, screaming with the clothes she had on from the day before.

She told me I would learn the next time, and just to help me learn, she would make sure I didn’t go out with my friends that weekend for Valentine’s Day.

I stayed at home that night and relished in anger. I listened to Alanis Morisette on repeat and made fists in my mirror. Until I snuck into her room and ripped a few buttons off of her blouse that hung so contently on her door for work the next day. She wouldn’t know who it was. But she would fly around her room like a headless chicken trying to find something for work the next day. Then I felt better.

The day after Valentine’s Day I went to my car to find a life-sized stuffed bear on my passenger side with a seat-belt on. Attached a note read, “For my favorite Valentine. Love, Mom.”

And then I got to show off my new boyfriend at school. And all was well.

what the what?

i wish the feeling of inspiration
came more often

like when it’s summer
and your friends
and your sun
and your high fly
watch me glide
into your periphery

And your decision.
Is on the rise.

And when it’s late
And
Your expression
Is on your mind.

On a night,
which is like any other night.






When the shape of your body
Matches the shape of your bones
And they work in synchrony
Telling you
Where you should move
In
Line
Or
Completely Out
Which one?
You decide.

Oh, hey, no one!

So fine.

I did it.

I proved to (who, exactly?) that I could live alone.

Just me, my thoughts, my dog, and the occasional random overnight "guest".

I've cooked cous cous with chic peas.

I've tastelessly eaten the leftovers.

I've regretted said meals, yet made them again. Because I have the same food a dude would.

And because my kitchen is in fact in my living room, and my microwave pretty much takes up any counter space I once had.

I've watched NY1 until I fell asleep out of sheer boredom. Because I can't afford cable.

I've appeased every modernist perception of where a 27 year old chic should be right now.

Oh! On her own! Livin' on the town! She's got no cares, she'll stare you down!

But the truth is. I thrive on company. It inspires me.

So after having entirely too many moments of being deep for someone that is as shallow as myself, I decided to look for a roomate on craiglist.

Little did I know this also meant subjecting myself to rape every time I had an "appointment."

Stories of that to come later today/tomorrow.

(Sorry it took like 5 months for my second post, although again, I'm apolozing to no one, as according to this site I "Dont have any followers yet)

Peace out, no one!