Quitters are Winners too...

Everyone has heard/quote the too often heard/quoted "Quitters Never Win" but I beg to differ at this point.
I quit. A while ago.
Smoking that is, and honestly, I have never felt like a bigger winner.
I was never a chronic member of that club anyway. Just a social one with a few on the side at times. I admit this is why it could have been easy for me. But that is not what this post is about. This is about the hypocrites who quit smoking and then get sanctimonious enough to throw their "holier than thou" attitude around. If someone who has never smoked in their life, attempts to tell you that its bad for you, you owe them a listen at least, because they probably have your best interests at heart. But when someone who supported a pack a day habit, FINALLY quits and then attempts to nag you to do so too, it completely justifies your desire to bash them over the head with something breakable.
Do NOT attempt to tell me its bad for me. I know, and so did you. Do NOT convince me that I am killing myself. Again, I am aware of how bad it is for me. YOU used to smoke triple the number I did and now that you have survived 2 weeks without it, it does not make you a damned expert on quitting.
When I quit, I did it without the fanfare and drama you caused. I did not claim imminent death if deprived of nicotine for another second. You could attribute that to the fact that you were more used to it than I was, but you had cut down so much before you attempted to quit, that it makes no difference really. So stopping your preaching would be much appreciated. Your phone calls about how quitting has changed your life does nothing but annoy other people (gasp in shock) Yeah I am not the only one you annoy with this, Natalie called me.
End of story.
When you decide something is bad for you or not working and you give it up, go ahead. You are welcome to give your friends your opinion, but keep nagging them to stop doing something that you were doing a week ago, and somebody gonna get a hurt real bad. Hypocrites do not get that much love. So hah to you, and while we are still friends, I would just like to remind you that you are smoking again. Way to stick to your decisions, real mature like. Now we all know how you stick to the choices you make in life as well. Get over yourself. You are not the poster-child for the rest of us. Neither am I, but I never claimed to be.

The Sleepy Teapot

I am a little teapot and I like it.
I am quirky and occasionally insane.
I enjoy it.
I am narcissistic. It has served me well.
It has made me appreciate me.
I am self obsessed.
I am upset when you don’t see it. I am not upset if you don’t like it.
I like being this person that no one has ever really figured out.
I like being me.
It’s who I am. It’s who I always will be.
Most importantly, it’s who I want to be.

One of those days...

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
This day has driven me insane and up the wall… not necessarily in that order. But I have a plan that would make an evil genius proud. Let the universe conspire against me. I shall conspire against it. Bwhahahahaaaa. Err ok… so that might be me overdoing it. Oh I don’t care anyway.
I have MPD and one of those people has OCD or so she has told me… many times. 
Then again, I used to think these mad bouts of mine were something to hide. Why? Because I was always wondering if it was ok to be a little crazy now and then.
Until I was told that this could be a trait that a few people might find not so bad. Nice even. And then it hit me. I was always so busy trying to be propah and all that jazz that I almost committed the biggest crime ever. Changing into someone else. Shudder in horror.
I want to be me again. I want to listen to music that drives my neighbours insane. I want to wear my ancient sweatshirt with Tom & Jerry on it and eat a tub of ice-cream while watching FRIENDS on tv. I want to yell at people being mean to the waiter at the restaurant.
I want to be who I used to be until I mistakenly thought I needed to change. Now I know I don’t need to do squat. I just need to be happy with who I am. That is not going to happen until I leave things be and stop picking apart my own thoughts, actions and reasoning behind it. I don’t need the reasoning, I don’t need the justification and I sure as hell do not need your approval or validation. So don’t wait around for me to tell you what you can do with it.
This is me. Deal with it. If you want to.

:P

All boys are stupid... Throw rocks at them!

Thus reads the writing on the t-shirt a good friend was wearing today. I couldn't agree more. I mean really, have you taken a look at any second grader (male) who likes a female classmate? His courting rituals would be enough to fill a book... one on likely emotional trauma maybe. He will pull her hair and pinch her to make her cry every chance he gets. Once she cries, he stands there, laughs at her, and then leaves.

Once these men mature (like they ever do) they turn into emotional wrecking balls who will do the psychological equivalent of pulling your hair... they will date the office bitch. And then of course, the pinch, he will praise her non existent work to your mutual boss. the only difference is he will do all this 30 seconds after he has left you citing the overload of work as his reason for not being able to devote time to a steady relationship.

Now in steps your knight in shining armor. He will dry your eyes and tell you that it is all going to be ok and then he will probably take you out to a romantic dinner and just when you are writing the wedding invitations in his head he mentions that he is so sorry to hear that your son is down with the chicken pox and that is why you look so run down. You exclaim that you don't have a son and an uncomfortable silence follows. A silence in which you wished that magic existed, if only for the satisfaction of being able to hex your former beau so that he is no longer recognizable as a member of the same species. With hydrocephalus maybe.

P.S.
This was written forever ago and was languishing in my draft box until I decided to resurrect it.

Fallen from Grace...

Having a middle name "Grace" is not particularly helpful when you are trying real hard to be one of the boys (growing up with boys as my closest friends this was something i tried very hard to do). You see... Grace is a very lady-like name… prim, proper and very dignified... not really qualities you can attribute to a tomboy who climbed trees and had a better eye for a catapult than some of the boys she hung out with. Sigh.. But those were the days alright. Of midnight ghost stories and cricket at 5 am… To being allowed to bat as long as you wanted because you were the only girl there... The only one who deigned to play silly boy games? Who didn't run home screaming to mummy when offered a frog (of course i would do that now) and who thought going snake catching was the coolest thing ever. But as bad as this may sound i wasn't the wild child i would have liked to be. I was still held back by some kind of inbred well mannered conscience to actually behave. Well I thought i was behaving… How was I to know that my mother despaired of the little hellion she had borne every time I wandered home with my latest black eye/bruise?

Despite these antics I was always mummy's angel and daddy's little princess… Might I add the only one who could poke him in the eye while he was sleeping saying "Dada.. You cheeping ?" and lived to tell the tale. And six years down the line the hellion to make all previous hellions seem tame in comparison-my baby brother- arrived. I will admit I was quite enamored with the white wrapped bundle my parents had brought home from the hospital. For around 5 minutes… He lost a little of his novelty when I discovered his antics were limited to gurgling happily at my nonsensical stories. After that my new favorite game became “lets see if Kurt can turn blue from screaming (loud enough to wake the dead)” although my mother soon put an end to that. Bah !

But I have to be honest and admit I never realized the brat had it in him. He faithfully carried my banner after I left home and proceeded to drive my family to the depths of despair at his complete lack of regard for anything that got in the way of what he wanted. (on occasion I have heard my mother tell an aunt or somebody “how I wish he wouldn’t be so much like his sister… one hell raiser was enough”) boy was she wrong…

It’s been 21 years now. And I still can’t bring myself to say I am 21 years old. I don’t feel old. Although I might dispute that statement when I am forced to see what the world looks like before noon... let me warn you now. Wake me up when I am meant to be asleep and I will not be held responsible for any kind of fatal damage I might inflict on you.

At the time of this post I am a dignified young lady (gag) who knows how far she can push the envelope without going completely overboard or getting in over her head. All that’s left to say now is adios and till next time.

No Good Deed...

It really is true what "they " say... No Good deed goes unpunished. Do something nice for someone and You can rest assured its going to come back and bite you in the ass. (please excuse my French) I apologize profusely - NOT!!!

I have learn't the hard way that to be nice to people is to earn their undying indifference. Be a Bitch with a capital B and they will adore you and worship the ground you walk on. Willing to take a jump off the zillionth floor of a building if you so much as wished it. I speak from experience. I have seen people go from normal beings to crazed maniacs just for that special someone's approval.

Referring to my first paragraph. Just who the hell are the all knowing and all powerful "they" anyway. How do they know everything and why are they so willing to share their complete knowledge of the damned universe and yet are completely anonymous. In my opinion, you keep paying attention to what some unknown "they" entity tell you... you are going to end up in a whole lot of crap... again excuse my French... At this point, if you don't, I wouldn't really expect tears of remorse from me. You could probably hold your breath till you were blue in the face and all I would do would be to probably laugh at you. and with a g too... like this...
Gwahahahhahahahaha...

For you see my love, I, in the words of the ever suave and charming Rhett Butler, quite frankly don't give a damn. Give me my walking shoes and a good song on my ipod and I really could care less what you wanted from me. I would turn up the volume and tell you to take a really long walk off a really short pier. And then I would run to the edge of the same pier and laugh at you wallowing in the knee deep water because you forgot the tide was out. (insert my laugh with a g right here)

So the next time you have absolutely asinine behavior planned, let me know in advance... So I can practice flipping you the bird and telling you to bite me !