It's Gone, So Long, We've Got Time, All The Time

It's time to start over. Am I finished with Andrew? No. I'll probably never be, but I think I'm happier this way. I guess I'll never be over to get over him, and I'll never be able to say what he meant to me. Mostly because I'm not sure what he meant to me. But I guess that's how loss works: You can onl truly be happy when you can appreciate something for what it was, instead of hating it for what it wasn't. I made a mistake. But I hope that next time, when something like this happens again, I'll stay. Maybe it won't be what I want, but at least no matter what happens, I'll know I had something. More than anything, I wish I could tell him I'm sorry. He was a great person, he really was. I want to say I'm sorry that I ran away from him, and that I'm sorry that one day, I won't be able to remember him. And on the slight, microscopic and completely hopeless chance that he reads this, I hope he forgives me.

The point is, I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I can't keep holding onto something like this. I can't say that it'll be like before. I'm going to keep blogging, and baking, and going out and doing stupid things. But now I'll just know a little better.

And just to show you that I haven't turned into a complete emotional mess, and that I still have some fight in me, here's a little something.



I'm back, bitch!

We'll Have Drinks And Talk About Things, Any Excuse To Stay Awake With You

Hey bitches! I wish I could say I'm feeling better, but to be completely honest with you, I'm not sure what I'm feeling. It's weird. I feel sad, but I mean, at the same time, I feel... I won't say happy, because I'm not really happy, but content. Content would be a nice way to put it. And confused. Sad and happy and confused. I'm not sure if they've come up with a term for that yet, but sometimes, being able to feel anything is as good as feeling happy.

One thing I found out about sadness is that everyone has that one special little drink they fall back on for support. And before you ask, no I'm not a drunk. Sure, I named my dog after alcohol, and I showed up to my prom smashed, and my room is covered in shot glasses, and I have my own flask... Okay that's not helping at all, is it?

Point is, I'm not drunk, I just have Irish genes. So don't worry David, I don't need Rehab yet. And first person to leave a comment with an Amy Winehouse reference gets a kick in the junk. Second gets an uncomfortable groping in the junk. You have been warned.

However, I DO want you guys to leave a comment. Since so many of you have offered various alternatives to my vodka, I want to know, what's your heartbreak drink? In case you haven't noticed, I went with the increibly unoriginal vodka. What can I say? It's bitter, It gets you drunk fast, and best of all, it was perfected in Russia. And let's face it: The russians know their sadness.

So what's your heartbreak drink? Leave yours in the comments. Later guys!

Take Off Your Top And Get Killed By Greg Kinnear.

I'm not proud to admit it, but I just peed myself a lil' bit.

...TOY STORE!

Useless Talent #27: Baking.

On my gradual quest to stop being all mopey, I've baked a cake. Why? Boredom. I'm at the point in the heartbreak cycle where you just do random shit so that you're to busy to think about anything else. So I made a tasty little Mocha Kahlua Cake with a Bailey's Irish Cream Glaze. My younger had a piece, and proceeded to flirt with a poster, try to pick a fight with another poster, then collapsed in a drunken heap.

In case you're wondering, yes, I bake all the time. It's my hobby, and it keeps my chakras aligned. I found a recipe at Joy The Baker, and proceeded to tweak it as I saw fit. It turned out pretty well, but the way she described it, if I don't shit rainbows for at least three days, I will be disappointed. The basic changes involved switching rum with kahlua, and just making a glaze using bailey's instead of more rum.

On a side note, you see the puppy up in the header? Her name is Kahlua. Yes, we named our dog after a liquer. What can I say? We're Irish. And no, Sarina, I will not be making any pies in the near future. Anyways, here's a little pic of it.

All Your Pain Will End Here, Let The Doctor Soothe Your Brain Dear

Oh whatever, I think I deserve one more post written with heartache, right? The answer is yes. Yes I do.

Anyways, due to the advice of a certain Pie-Atheist, I've taken vodka out of my Broken Heart Cure. The current recipe now consists of Tequila, Emily Haines, and that copy of Destination London I got on sale. At this point, my room is currently littered with used kleenex, though I can't tell which were used for crying and which were Matthew Rush induced.

I'd like to take the time to thank David, Stacey and Sarina, who took the time to leave a little something. And maybe Sarina's right. Maybe I'm a runner. I managed to sneak in a viewing of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind after watching the Jason Cruise/Josh Weston scene for the third time in two days. I remember watching it the first time, and not being able to full connect with the story. Now that I watched again, I really finally get it.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lost
The world forgotten by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned



What if I stayed?

Fuck It. Fuck Life. Here Are Some Videos.

I haven't slept in a day and a half. I had to gradually transition from drunk to hangover, and my eyes are killing me. I'm too tired to actually look for some news about Britney or Miley or any of these shouldabortions I keep posting about. So here's a bunch of videos I yanked from youtube.

Here's the trailer to Zack and Miri. God is dead.


MO brought it up yesterday, so here's the trailer for Bender's Game. enjoy life, MO, cause I'm not.


Probably Bastards takes on The Dark Knight. Die.


Here's a spot from Brawndo. A 300 foot pony covered in chainsaws sounds oddly inviting right now.


And finally, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Everyone you love will leave you.


Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go drink a bottle of vodka and wish for death. Toodles.

My Heart And I Have Decided To End It All

I don’t like posting things that are too personal, but I just can’t take it anymore. It’s like no matter how fast I run, my past just keeps catching up to me. I fucking hate it. I really do.

Anyways, the story goes like this: His name was Andrew, and I worked with him. I remember the first time I met him, it was outside, I was biking home, and he dropped a Napoleon Dynamite reference. I hated the movie, but I laughed anyways, because he was really cute. But I couldn’t do anything. I was seventeen, just got off my first crush, and was recovering from the accompanying anorexia. I didn’t want to put myself through it again. I figured it would be for the best if I just avoided him. I was fucking poison. I didn’t deserve him. He was better off without me.

I guess it worked. He thought I was just quiet, and I pretended like I didn’t feel anything for him.

Then one day, I was finishing up so I could go home when I heard a co-worker say that Andrew was quitting. I didn’t know what was going on, but all of a sudden, it was like I was drowning. Everything was moving like it was underwater, I couldn’t breathe, and my chest felt like it had just collapsed on itself.

I went into denial. He couldn’t be leaving. But he did. On the last day, I remember getting out of the shower before work, looking in the mirror, and just melting. I pulled myself together for work, put on the happy face, pretended everything was fine, when in fact, everything was not fine, and I refused to understand why.
The one thing I haven’t forgiven myself for was that I let him leave, and he never knew how I felt. I didn’t even say goodbye. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself watch him go, because I knew I wouldn’t survive it. He put on his jacket walked out the door, and all I could think was “just look away, just look away, just look away”. And that door. That fucking door. It closed with this loud metallic bang, and I swear to God, my heart just fell down from its usual place and plummeted down.
The worst part is I couldn’t quit my job. I was stuck there, and every day, I’m reminded of what I had to let go.

That night I got home, I cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t hold it in. I cried, and I prayed that he would forget me. Forget that I ever existed. Every night that week, I dreamed that he came back, and every time I woke up, I felt like I was forcing myself to live.

It’s been three months since then. I thought I was over him. Sometimes I’ll have a dream about him, but I’ve learned to deal with it. He had his life, I had mine. They weren’t meant to be intertwined. But last night, I went to a party at my friend’s house. I figured it would be a good excuse to drink. I was there for a while, feeling alright, and then he walked in.

I never thought I would have to go through the underwater thing again. But I did. All of a sudden, everything I tried to run from found me. I left without a word. I haven’t slept all night. I can’t, because I know if I go to sleep, I’ll see him, and it’ll kill me. I’ve been trying to tell myself that it wasn’t him, but I know I’m full of shit.

I guess the one thing you’re wondering is, did I love him. I hope not. Because if I did, and I let him go, I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself.

Anyways, sorry to post this.

Hissing Fauna, Are You The News On Bar Napkins?

While we wait for Morgan Freeman to recover from his crash yesterday, let's take a look at seven people who should have been in a car accident instead. (The Comedy Feed)

Amy Winehouse will sing about cooking on her upcoming album. Her favourite recipes include "Pee-Crack Duck", "Rosemary & Marijuana Chicken" and "Dead Rat Roasted In A Meth Lab Explosion". (Contact Music)

Aden & Jordan Jaric, the most annoyingly perfect gay porn star couple ever, become even more perfect by posting advice on coming out...grumble...stupid, flawless Jarics...(Meet The Jarics)

"Knife-Weilding Robot Saves Patrick Swayze's Life". Sometimes, it's just too easy. (BWE)

And to finish it off, get your geek on with some BSG lovin'. (Pajiba)

A News On Bar Napkins Pile In A Sadness Bowl

First her boyfriend dies, and now she has breast cancer. I'm sorry Tina, but I'm kind of hoping Christina Applegate wins the Best Actress Emmy now. She could use it right now and Godtopus help me, she was pretty good. (WIMB)

Because today isn't horribly depressing enough, Morgan Freeman also got into a serious car accident. (All Your TV)

A gay teenager who was the victim of an anti-gay beating has died after spending eight days in the hospital. Now would be a good time to curl up in the fetal position and wait until death comes. (Towleroad)

"I'm here to kick ass and drink cups of tea...And I'm all out of tea." Here are the top 10 Most Annoyingle British Commercials (Am I the only one who finds the Cheers Lady adorable? Apparenly, yes). (BWE)

Pop Quiz! You have a house fire. Do you:
A) Make sure your family has safely vacated the building
B) Thank those who helped you avoid further disaster
C)Blame the fire on satanists and picket the fire fighters who are trying to save your shit

No More Weekend Trips. Ever.

I'm back, bitches! After a total of five hours sitting in a car, wondering where the feeling in my ass went, I finally got back. We ended up staying in some house on a military compound, and since there weren't enough beds, guess who had to sleep on the floor? It's as uncomfortable as it sounds. But that's okay, because I've declared a moratorium on family trips. Anyways, I feel bad for ignoring it for this long, so I'm going all out and adding three two the nice list, and banishing two to the shit list. First the nice, then the shit.

Jon Stewart


I feel absolutely no shame in admitting that I watch the Daily Show religiously (The Colbert Show is great to, but you can't beat Jon). He's not on the list because he's got the sharpest wit on TV, or because he's a fucking genius, or even because the man is super-sexy-cute (admit it. You would let him hit it in a heartbeat). It's because unlike his "real" news counterparts, he's one of the few people who refuses to bullshit his audience. Sure, he bills himself as fake news, but let's face it: it's all fake news, he's just the only one honest about it.

Erik Rhodes


Yup, there are now two gay porn stars on the list. But this is my blog, so feel free to fuck off. Anyways, there are two reasons why Erik makes the list. #1, The man is jaw-droppingly hot. If you disagree, feel free to remove your eyes and hand them in to the closest research lab. #2, I may just have a teensy little addiction to his blog. Just a teensy one. What can I say? It's funny, honest, occasionally sad, and fuck it all if he doesn't have a pretty decent taste in music.

Tina Fey


I think any body who can write a script that is not only hysterically funny, but can actually make Lindsay Lohan seem talented deserves to be on the nice list. At this point, everything Tina touches turns to win: She was the only watchable part of SNL(Not counting Amy Poehler), she wrote and starred in Mean Girls, the only good high school movie of the new millenium, and she's the star of 30 fucking Rock. Even when she made the just okay Baby Mama, critics went easy on her because she was Tina Fey, and she could slice them into bits with her tongue alone. That's just how she rolls.

And now for the shitlist, it's a two-for-one deal!

Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag, AKA the Realitards


Behold: the physical maifestations of everything that is wrong with TV. Considering the sheer amount of reality TV that MTV has shoved down our gullets, I could have grabbed just about anybody for this, but no. I decided to grab the lowest of the low, from the one show that has consistently proven to be the single worst TV show on TV. Not only is watching "The Hills" like performing a frontal lobotomy on youself with a spoon, but it also stars these two, the reason people hate. For being spoiled, narcissistic, and general ass-hats, Mr. and Mrs. Realitard make the list