Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Dear AT&T,
Hello, I would just like to tell you that, "fuck you ". How dare ou deceive me into thinking I was getting unlimited long distance for 20bucks a month! You wretched whoremonger! Dare thee actually charge me seven cents a minute? Dare thee?! Is there no phone service that will cater to my needs? It is a sad day in America, when you lie to me, as a service provider, to gain my trust, only to leave me on hold for well over 10 minutes. How freaking dare you! Stop interrupting my hold music with your stupid speel about how " thank you for your patience" because I really don't have Any and I think we should keep this HONESTY shit going! And if you or your ppl tell me to not text and drive, again, I'm gonna get stabby! Ok? Because I am not only, not coordinated enough to walk and text, but not dumb enough to drive and text! So stop insinuating that I would do such a thing. And by the time you assholes get on the phone, I will have already forgotten what the hell I was calling you about. I'm calling you out, AT&T. Boom bitch.
Well, hell.
I seriously need to blog more. But I'm not even sure very many people are still reading. I get into
these "funks", where I have NO creativity, and I don't even want to talk. I view everything that entertains me as a mindfuck and then I feel like I'm consumed by my own words. I forget that talking myself down- really fucks my own mind up. And then ... It's okay again.
Okay. But IS it okay? Is it ever going to be okay, again? I really don't know. I think the world, or the majority, is pretty much fucked. I think I can be "okay" for my kids sake. Someone has to. I will limit my emotional train wreck days from now on, because it definitely works that way. I can control this powerless feeling. Uh huh. Do you know why I am blogging at 230am on a Tuesday ?
I. Can't. Sleep. Forfuckssakes. There is simply, too many things I've got to stress about. Like feet. I hate them, so much. They are so nasty. And there are so many feet. Have you READ The Foot Book, man? Good God. Oh yeah, and I told another really freakin awesome blogger The Klonopin Chronicles, that I have a blog, but that it sucks. Lol. I mean, my poems are good. Totally. But this, this rambling, that I do, it is just that. A mess of rambles. Thrown together exactly as it comes into and out of my insane mind.
"What the fuck is the point?"you may wonder. I don't fucking know. Maybe these are the voices in my head, escaping. Maybe I just do whatever the fuck I want, because "fuckin a I'm me". If you happen to be bored enough to read further back... There's never a goddam point. Maybe a bitch just needs a nap? Yeah. That's probably it. Hormones. Insomnia. "Severe Generalized Anxiety Disorder". I think, all I really need is a hug, but don't ever fuckin touch me, man. I will cut a bitch. Oh, and the more I think about all of these thoughts, the more it seems like I might be "chemically imbalanced", I am almost certain anxiety disorders alone can't cause all of this ? Where the fuck are the doctors? Can I get a diagnosis, via interwebs? Graci.
Okay, seriously, this is what happens inside my head. Now I'm gonna go drink some chamomile tea, and hopefully fall asleep. This is exhausting. X's & O's goddammit.
these "funks", where I have NO creativity, and I don't even want to talk. I view everything that entertains me as a mindfuck and then I feel like I'm consumed by my own words. I forget that talking myself down- really fucks my own mind up. And then ... It's okay again.
Okay. But IS it okay? Is it ever going to be okay, again? I really don't know. I think the world, or the majority, is pretty much fucked. I think I can be "okay" for my kids sake. Someone has to. I will limit my emotional train wreck days from now on, because it definitely works that way. I can control this powerless feeling. Uh huh. Do you know why I am blogging at 230am on a Tuesday ?
I. Can't. Sleep. Forfuckssakes. There is simply, too many things I've got to stress about. Like feet. I hate them, so much. They are so nasty. And there are so many feet. Have you READ The Foot Book, man? Good God. Oh yeah, and I told another really freakin awesome blogger The Klonopin Chronicles, that I have a blog, but that it sucks. Lol. I mean, my poems are good. Totally. But this, this rambling, that I do, it is just that. A mess of rambles. Thrown together exactly as it comes into and out of my insane mind.
"What the fuck is the point?"you may wonder. I don't fucking know. Maybe these are the voices in my head, escaping. Maybe I just do whatever the fuck I want, because "fuckin a I'm me". If you happen to be bored enough to read further back... There's never a goddam point. Maybe a bitch just needs a nap? Yeah. That's probably it. Hormones. Insomnia. "Severe Generalized Anxiety Disorder". I think, all I really need is a hug, but don't ever fuckin touch me, man. I will cut a bitch. Oh, and the more I think about all of these thoughts, the more it seems like I might be "chemically imbalanced", I am almost certain anxiety disorders alone can't cause all of this ? Where the fuck are the doctors? Can I get a diagnosis, via interwebs? Graci.
Okay, seriously, this is what happens inside my head. Now I'm gonna go drink some chamomile tea, and hopefully fall asleep. This is exhausting. X's & O's goddammit.
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