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yellojellopudding
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Name: yellojellopudding
Gender: Female
Interests: Superjail!, writing, zombies of any and all kinds, most horror, coffee, shoes
Message: message me
Member Since:
11/24/2005
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|             “It was true that I didn’t have much ambition, but there ought to be a place for people without ambition, I mean a better place than the one usually reserved. How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 6:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?” —Charles Bukowski "One of the saddest things is that the only thing that a man can do for eight hours a day, day after day, is work. You can't eat eight hours a day nor drink for eight hours a day nor make love for eight hours—all you can do for eight hours is work. Which is the reason why man makes himself and everybody else so miserable and unhappy." —William Faulkner "I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables—slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war . . . our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off." —Fight Club "But men labor under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon ploughed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in the old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before." —Henry David Thoreau | | |
| I live in an apartment complex. Its a pretty nice one too, as far as that goes. Very safe, extremely quiet and I have very little complaints. But theres just one thing I can't fucking stand:
People in the parking lot parking in the middle of the lane and just sitting there.
Sometimes they'll be texting, or talking to someone outside. Sometimes they'll just leave a door open and their car is just sitting there running with no one in it. Other times they'll be dropping someone off, and even though there's like 3 open parking spaces RIGHT THERE, they still insist on taking up the entire lane, making me squeeze past them, or blocking my car completely.
Its really irritating, and I don't know what the "socially acceptable" thing to do about it is. I know you aren't supposed to get out and beat the shit out of them, or mace them in the pompous face.... but if I just honk they act like I'M the one doing something wrong? Oh, yeah, sorry. I didn't realize this parking lot belonged to you, all mighty assface.
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There’s only three men that Imma serve my whole life
It’s my daddy and Nebraska and Jesus Christ
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| Inadvertently, boyfriend, you have lost a lot of my respect.
I guess it started yesterday when a red flag went off in my head. I know you have money problems, and I don't want to point finger because I'm not the most responsible person either. But you got a bonus from your boss. It was $2500. I talked to you about it. You said: $300 goes for medical bills. $2-300 goes to buying a refurbished computer. The rest for bills and to pay for dental work, which you and I know you really need.
After you started looking on the Internet at all the new shiny laptops you could buy, the numbers changed. Not too much. But it still bothered me. $500 for the new computer, you said.
Today you came home with a new (not refurbished) $700 computer.
To think I was going to help you pay for your dental work... No more.
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| It's a beautiful day out, but I just can't enjoy it without you. I won't say anything to you though because I refuse to be needy. I'm supposed to be writing this 10 page paper, thinking about getting a job... I'm supposed to be doing a lot things. All I want is to go hiking and fishing maybe. Do some art. Drop out of school and get a shitty part time job but not worry about it because I don't have bills to pay.
But you do. You... so entranced by the real world, so involved... what's the weather going to be like? The job market? You refuse to take a day off. You want me to go to school. Don't go hitch hiking, it's dangerous. Don't be a stripper, its degrading. I love you. I don't love your restrictions but I miss you, busy, real world you. But I want to get away from you.
Please, come home. Not exhausted, like last time. Not too tired to have a beer, but much to tired for a good conversation. Don't act like spending time with me is a chore, something you have to check off your to do list, your second job: me.
Thank you for paying the bills this week, but I suspect your bitching is only half authentic. I suspect that you like your job, the routine, the monotony, the way it cuts you off from feeling and thinking. I suspect that you need it the way I need you. 10 years is a long, mindnumbingly long time. I don't think you can do it.
We're in two different worlds.
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