Oh No, Not Again!

If anything can go wrong, it will.

You Won’t Like My Blog If…

  1. … you can’t stand cute. If cute annoys you, if the occasional sappy, lovesick post makes you want to claw your eyeballs out, you’re going to hate my blog.
  2. If you’re the kind of prick who thinks that a woman should only be sweet and demure. If you’re the type of person who would chastise me for “not being very lady-like”, well, then just fuck off, okay?
  3. You’re really going to hate this blog if you’re related to me, outside of my immediate family. See, my immediate family, mom & dad, they’re fantastic, if imperfect, people. The rest of you are fucking dysfunctional as hell, and for the most part, terrible people. I’m not going to put your full, real names out there, but sometimes I think I should, as warning to the rest of the world.
  4. If you’re Mormon (Latter-day Saint, LDS, etc), you are likely going to hate my blog. I used to be one of you, I grew up one of you, and I’ve definitely learned all the lessons I need to about the church.
  5. If you don’t have a sense of humour, you won’t have a good time here. It doesn’t need to be exactly like mine, because let’s face it, I’m a bit weird, but you need some kind of sense of humour.
  6. About #4… chances are, if you’re very religious (any kind of religious, that is), you’re not going to like my blog, either. I don’t set out to be disrespectful of other people’s faiths, but, if there is a god at all, I’m pretty sure that entity has a fine sense of humor.
  7. Feminists. Oh, feminists, you are probably going to hate my blog for a plethora of reasons. I’m all for equal rights, but to me, that really means equal, not switching it up, putting “women on top”, unless you mean as an optional position in the bedroom. Oh, and if I could be, I would already be married to my boyfriend and probably barefoot and pregnant right now.
  8. If you can’t understand and accept that your way isn’t the only way, about any particular subject, you’re going to have a bad time here.
  9. I like hearing other people’s thoughts and opinions, but only if you can share without being a jackass. This is my fucking bridge, okay, and I don’t want any trolls living under it.

Edited to add: This post was inspired by one I had found as I was exploring other blogs through WordPress, but my browser crashed, oops!, and I couldn’t find it again right away. In digging through my history, though, I finally did find the post that inspired this one: HARSH REALITY: These People Should NOT Read My Blog.

Okay, I’m Sorry. I’m A Jerk.

So the very first post in my blog was on Valentine’s day, and it basically consisted of me bitching. I did mention that I’m (incredibly) grateful for my boyfriend, but even so… lots of bitching.

I don’t want to do that. I’ve been miserable about missing my flight to London. It’s a legitimate reason to be unhappy, I think, because I’ve been dating Alex since May of last year, and I desperately want to get to him, but I really ought to be counting my blessings right now.

Firstly, I still have Alex. We’ve still got each other. Secondly, I had a seizure and hit my head. I’ve already experienced some really severe head trauma (it’s a rather long story, but my cousin shoved me down the basement stairs), and I’m very lucky that I’m in as good shape as I am at the moment. Thirdly, Alex is now making plans to come here as soon as he possibly can, so it’s not like we’re not going to get to spend the time together, despite my terrible luck.

Honestly, the universe is out to get me, but I still have a ton of things to be happy about.

Fuck It

Tard's Valentine

Because… no.

When it comes right down to it, I should be happy today. I have a wonderful, loving boyfriend who, perhaps miraculously, thinks that I’m wonderful. Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy about that; very fortunate to have him in my life.

But, today, I was supposed to be with him, and I’m not.

Alex (that would be the boyfriend in question here, keep up, okay?) is still 4,000+ miles away, though. He’s in Cornwall, I’m in the Cornhusker State. I was meant to arrive in London yesterday morning. Two weeks. I was supposed to get two weeks with the man of my dreams, covering today, Valentine’s day, and my birthday, next week.

And it all went to shit because I just had to go and have a seizure and hit my head.

So fuck it. Fuck Valentine’s day. Try as I might to count all the things that I have to be happy about right now, it’s not working. I’m nowhere near where I wanted to be today.

Is it really too much to ask to spend Valentine’s day with the one you love?