The f*** My Life Thread

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Tomorrow it's monday, back to work...that sucks. Oh well, at least the weekend has been good.
 
You have noooo idea how many hours I spent as a nanny trying to explain that the wicked witch is only pretend.

spoilsport :(

I've had the most amaing weekend. That's all :p

With someone special I take it :D

Kind of, yes.

hahaha, what a guess :p

tumblr_lml152dDf61qc1krbo1_500.gif
 
When I shut the bathroom window before I was having shower, one of the glasses was shuttered. :(

The window itself is dodgy. It doesn't stay open, we have to put a piece of wood when it needs to be opened.

Other two glasses need to be replaced because they have cracks.
 
When I shut the bathroom window before I was having shower, one of the glasses was shuttered. :(

The window itself is dodgy. It doesn't stay open, we have to put a piece of wood when it needs to be opened.

Other two glasses need to be replaced because they have cracks.

I didn't know you were so boom boom, Kewpie...
 
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR ARGGGGGHH YYYYYYEEEERRRRGGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am sick of my stupid issues. I am sick of it.:mad:
 
ISWYDT...I wonder if they have tigers in SScandinavia. :rolleyes:
 
I spilled half a thermos of coffee on my light grey dress while on the train this morning. Now I have a huge stain on my dress, my sweater still feels a little sticky and I smell like coffee. Only 5.5 hours until I can make the journey home and change out of these dirty clothes. Things like this really bother me. A LOT.
 
I spilled half a thermos of coffee on my light grey dress while on the train this morning. Now I have a huge stain on my dress, my sweater still feels a little sticky and I smell like coffee. Only 5.5 hours until I can make the journey home and change out of these dirty clothes. Things like this really bother me. A LOT.

You smell good to me...

I love the smell of coffee in the morning...it smells like...coffee.
 
You smell good to me...

I love the smell of coffee in the morning...it smells like...coffee.

How do you smell each other from 3000 miles away?
 
We are not 3,000 miles away from each other.

2,000?

Okay. So I experienced a little incident that helps me to better understand myself which is a little FMLish. So it's a constructive FML.

Tonight I was at a bar with my good old friend and a new guy we just met. A new guy who was buying us drinks so we'd stay and talk to him even though we wanted to leave way earlier. Anyway, my friend tells us this story about being in San Fransisco two weeks ago and witnessing a homeless women give birth to a baby on a sidewalk on the street of Haight Ashbury.He saw the head pooping out and everything, it was a life altering experience, apparently, yet kinda funny at the same time. So my friend and I have this running joke about how our standards are really high or we have low self esteem or SOMETHING and we never get laid. So I say, not thinking this thrid guy is listening to the same story, "WHAT? How come hobos are getting laid and we can't even get a date?" You know, just as a joke. Suddenly you can see the lightbulb go off on third party's head and suddenly I am the most interesting person in the room, i am sexy, my opinions are awesome, get her another drink, blah, blah, blah. He slips in that the backseat of his car is spacious and comfortable, it was kind of overwhelming/hilarious/creepy all at the same time.

So this is what my problem is. In my weird brain, I feel like i'm having one conversation that continues with the many people i meet. So i quietly assume, and especially when enebriated, that all parties to my conversation, WHATEVER conversation I have, are aware of my intention, motivation, values, ethics, etc. So when i make a joke, I assume that all parties to my conversation are in on it...when in reality, they are not. i guess its a little bit os "the-world-revolves-around-my-secret-dialogue syndrome that i falsely assume translates to my outer dialogue.

He asked for my email and i was just not drunk enough to give him the wrong address. :o Forgive me father for i have sinned.
 
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Tonight I was at a bar

So far so good. Tell me more.

with my good old friend and a new guy we just met. A new guy who was buying us drinks so we'd stay and talk to him even though we wanted to leave way earlier.

Ah...the oldest of conundrums. Sorry...I didn't mean to interrupt. Go on.

Anyway, my friend tells us this story about being in San Fransisco two weeks ago and witnessing a homeless women give birth to a baby on a sidewalk on the street of Haight Ashbury.He saw the head pooping out and everything,

Even if everything else you ever said or say is crap (it's not), that just redeemed you forever.

it was a life altering experience, apparently, yet kinda funny at the same time. So my friend and I have this running joke about how our standards are really high or we have low self esteem or SOMETHING and we never get laid.

Sex is overrated anyway. Well, that's what I heard.

So I say, not thinking this third guy is listening to the same story, "WHAT? How come hobos are getting laid and we can't even get a date?"

Because only the poor realize that true wealth has nothing to do with money.

Suddenly you can see the lightbulb go off on third party's head and suddenly I am the most interesting person in the room, i am sexy, my opinions are awesome, get her another drink, blah, blah, blah. He slips in that the backseat of his car is spacious and comfortable, it was kind of overwhelming/hilarious/creepy all at the same time.

The world is full of crashing bores and predatorial pieces of shit.

So this is what my problem is. In my weird brain, I feel like I'm having one conversation that continues with the many people I meet. So I quietly assume, and especially when inebriated, that all parties to my conversation, WHATEVER conversation I have, are aware of my intention, motivation, values, ethics, etc. So when I make a joke, I assume that all parties to my conversation are in on it...when in reality, they are not. I guess its a little bit of "the-world-revolves-around-my-secret-dialogue syndrome that I falsely assume translates to my outer dialogue.

Yeah...but it doesn't work that way unfortunately. There is no "world."

He asked for my email

HE'S A FAG RIGHT THERE...and not in the gay sense.

and I was just not drunk enough to give him the wrong address. :o Forgive me father for i have sinned.

"Amie, Amie, when the Last Trumpet sounds, and we are couched in our porphyry tombs, I shall turn and whisper to you, let us pretend we do not hear it."
 
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