So..again...

Lies.

Deceit.

And...


DESPAIR...

That's what makes a pretty good trio.

You give that to me...

I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And yes, moving forward...

Things aren't really bright and shiny nowadays for me, considering.

They're more of dead and dying or undead and unemployed - again - status.

BUT still, I have to more forward.

Yep.

I should...

Hip Hop Abs...

Yeah, I'm doing it...sorta


hahahaha!

Moving forward...

And yes, I did quit my job.

I didn't need any explanations from MMOAB. It was obvious, that I was no longer needed.. SO there. I QUIT.

I know, it's pride and whatever you can think of. BUT, I'm not gonna kiss someone elses mangy ass right? Or beg and plead for mercy? Of course not.

I have got to get a move on, wherever in this province or town I can get a job or even in infinity and beyond.

Sigh....

It sucks really, this way. BUT, then again, I made a choice. I don't want to be suspended in animation because I won't go anywhere with it.

And what REALLY sucks is that HE is doing everything to keep me going - food and all - yes, you can say that it should be his duty to bring me up again because I'm down like what I did - or always do - when HE's down, but then again, I don't want that to happen.

I want to do this on my own or with a lil' divine intervention of a sort. So there.

I have go to move on...

Let's hope...

That tomorrow will be BETTER...

BETTER than THIS.

I hope people will be coming tomorrow from all the corners of this province, including the darn diagonal parts of the province...

BUT STILL

I wanna be a porn star...

Oh yes, a porn star...

What I really want to be...

You remember that song? "When I grow up I will someday..." yada-yada-yada...

I wanna be a PORN STAR...

NO KIDDING.

I wanna be like HIM. Brandon Manilow..

Sigh.

A porn star's life is probably easier than what I have now. Just full of fuckity-fuck-fucks.

You won't have to worry about deadline!

Ohhhhhhh!

Never be with a man who's prettier than you...

*Author's note: This is, by and large, another entry that I wrote at four in the morning. The muse of writing just woke me. Be careful, this entry is FULL of rage...you might get contaminated...

The title of this entry is from a line in a novel by Christopher Moore, I'm not really sure what the title of the novel is but it's about Jody a boring secretary turned vampire. Her mother said that to her.

Which I can relate to.

I am with someone who's pretty or even if I hate it very much to admit, pretty-ier.

A great chest, wonderful torso and a golden cock.

Yes it's true and you can take that to the bank.

Along with this perfect things that I so dearly possess are also not-so-very-perfect things that I TOO unfortunately possess. Since he's mine, everything that he has is mine too and vice-versa.

Of course, we all have our not-so-very-perfect moments, like me, I hulk out like a bitch sometimes, either in thoughts, words, and alas, I hate to say this, actions.

HE is at times - meaning, often - inconsistent with his stories. Now, I am not saying that HE is brewing up a lie just to excuse HIMSELF from it all. But sometimes, rarely this time, HE gets entangled - all by HIMSELF - to those stories that HE very carefully weaved for me to believe.

And yes, I am a sucker, I believe HIM. In a 99.9.99% (if ever there is a kind of percentage in this dimension) way!

Donning on a brave face and through gritted teeth and barred fangs, I just take all of it like bullets from a Gatling gun or an M16 or hell a missile from a frigging Nikita rocket launcher!

Yesterday, morning, we had a fight. Which, right now, I have forgotten what we talked about. Ahh, yes. I came home late last night - 2200 hours to be exact. I was with a cousin, who needed company and I needed company too since I was kinda - sorta - still kind of now - feeling depressed and frus-frigging-trated with the very meager number of recruits for my call center training program. So, I was with a cousin.

When I came home, I was expecting an atom bomb or hell a nuke that would smack and blow me into a million smithereens in plain sight.

BUT no...

It was worse than an atom bomb and a nuke! It was the sharp, double-egged blade of sarcasm and disgust...

And to boot, the wonderful thing called COLD WAR went into action. I won't dive much into details on this one. BUT, you get the picture. He slept on the couch; I slept on my glorrrrriooous bed.

And still not speaking with him at all, I continued the day without a peep from my loud mouth. BUT my loud mouth - loud as it is - betrayed me.

I spoke first. DARN IT!

Remember that old ballad called Get Up and Bar the Door? Well, it's about a couple who after eating dinner fought on who's going to get up and bar or lock the door. They agreed that starting now that no one would peep or even breathe a word and not even move a single muscle or else, he/she would bar the door.

Now, while in their mute and motionless state, the couple had visitors. ROBBERS! The robbers were very much surprised and kinda shocked on what kind of game this old couple was playing. Then, the robbers decided to make fun of them, to the extent of shaving the husband. When one of the robbers shaved him - without water, which is a bitch, try it - the husband scowled in pain because of the blade.

So, who got up and barred the door?

I think I would lose such contest!

And I kinda did, even though I tried - for the millionth time - to throw him out of the house after packing his things on bags galore.

But then we talked - or rather fought in unbearable silence. He won, eventually, as he always does in every fight - verbal or action fight.

HE didn't even asked me, what happened or what was the reason why I was out late? HE just kept on going on about why didn't I text him or leave a note and/or whatever.

Like it or not, I sometimes need a fraction of an inch, space. I breathed in and out, deep and low, last night while I was out and poured my guts out to a cousin.

Sigh.

I asked myself, why is it that every time he goes out with his friends and come home late - usually drunk and/or high - that I don't have to question ANYTHING or speak about his long absence? I dunno the answer to this one.

And, second question, why is it that if I go out for an hour or two, he goes BALLISTIC about my absence? And in his ballistic state, he has played his long speech, which he already cued in his head while I was gone, about his sacrifices and he's out with girls and they're friends and nothing will happen and blah-blah-blah-blah, etcetera etcetera, on and on, the droning sound of bees.

BBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZ.

I could go on forever on this one. BUT, I don't have plans to just complain forever.

I'm not the complaining shit type.

Yesterday, Saturday, night. He went out. Because it was the bon-fucking-va-yage (sucker!) party of HIS friend. Yes, the friend who's old and dying and has a huge-ass mayoma germinating inside of her corpulent belly.

The one I hold near and dear to my heart FULL of ABHORRENCE and LOATHING.

BUT, before HE went out, and after our cold war in the morning, HE PROMISED.

P-R-O-M-I-S-E-D

That we'd both go out and get online and just go out and have fun or something like going online and checking stuff on the Net and look for the stuff he needs for HIS class - and trust me, there's a whole hell lot of stuff, by Jove is my witness!

BUT THEN AGAIN, the PROMISE got eclipsed, darkened overshadowed, trumped, trashed, neglected, forgotten, broken by the invitation.

Of course. Eventually. Like the proverbial battle between good and evil. The GOOD always triumph.

Guess which side I'm on?

Always REMEMBER, the best laid plans ARE always unsuccessful. I bet my sweet-patootie on that one.

And since I am boring, miserable and fat and not to mention to destitute to say the least; I did nothing and I decided to waitfor HIM at the road, from hours on end. AND finally, at 2330 HOURS, HE has arrived. A lil' woozy, I think. I hailed the cab that HE just rode to home and we both went in again to go to town - I was STILL clinging on to his promise.

HE, on the other hand, was a bit dazed on why I hailed the cab. Hah! And then, when we got to town, we went to the café and just sat there getting ready WHEN the Internet connection went poof!

"And all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put humpty-dumpty together again..."

So, I told HIM that we should go home rather than ROT in this hell hole.

When we got home, where I am now, we ate. AND then an SMS message arrived for HIM. FROM HIS FRIEND.

I cannot believe, that HE of all people, THAT HE AND HIS FRIEND calls me THE CALLBOY.

At that time, my world paused for a bit. It stopped spinning and spinning. I was dazed. I felt hazy. Confused. AND I wanted to tear his eyes out.

I spat at him that HE AND HIS FRIEND can keep me out of their lives. I cannot believe, that HE of ALL PEOPLE would call me
THAT and tolerate SOMEONE ELSE calling me THAT.

HE - meagerly - reasoned out that it was just a LABEL that HE and HIS friend thought of, and EVEN, set out another example on what they called SOMEONE ELSES girlfriend - the girlfriend of their friend. A WHORE, they call her.

EXCUSE ME.

LABEL.

I freaked out. Of course, yes, sure. They probably didn't mean much by it. BUT, the FACT that SOMETHING INSINUATED THEIR MINUTE LIL' MINDS into calling ME and SOMEONE ELSE THAT makes them WHAT?

HYPOCRITES? PHARISEES? WHATTHEFUCKS?

You choose.

I told him, which HE TOTALLY LISTENED AND DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO BACKFIRE AT ME, you promised me that tonight we'll go out - you and me - you promised me that tonight, we'll work on something so THAT tomorrow - which is RIGHT NOW, SUNDAY, we'll do DO NOTHING day.

HE WENT SILENT. I think I strucked a chord!

Sigh.

THEN, after that, HE even had the NERVE to ask if it's OK with me that HE'LL go out again tomorrow and be with HIS FRIEND.

As if I have ANOTHER OPTION to his quiz? I am not, an I repeat, jealous or insecure or whatever mushy things you can think of.

NO. PLEASE. I'm way way way wayyyyyyyyyyy beyond that.

seriously, I FEEL UNWANTED. I FEEL LIKE I'm USED GOODS! He gets mad at me if I go out EVEN if my own mother asked me to go out for a bit just to get something - BUT he didn't even FOR A NANO FUCKING SECOND think that HE MADE A PROMISE TO ME.

Yeah, OK. I'm probably making a VERY big deal about this PROMISE.

BUT hey, look it up. What the WORD PROMISE means. Yeah, take it literally, figuratively, diagonally or hell even absurdly.
WHATEVER way or position you look at it, it ALL BOILS DOWN TO.

I'll DO IT.

WHOEVER MADE THE SHIT LINE which goes PROMISES ARE MADE TO BE BROKEN are BULLSHITS!

I have come to realize that MY PRESENCE, MY COMPANY gets trumped by someone else. AND yeah, OK sure, that someone else may BE better than me - because of the OLD AGE - very old age , lines and all - BUT, aren't we all unique? Don't we all have our differences?

I have something that she doesn't have. AND THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is a COCK.

Yes, baby, a COCK. Which HE LURRRRVVES.

SIGH!

DEEP FUCKING SIGH.

I am FURIOUS. I AM BALLISTIC RIGHT NOW. I just cannot believe, that someone, someone who is not even in my league - that I am certainly sure - can trump me over HIM!

JESUS H. CHRIST ON A FRIGGING PONY!

I am getting back to work soon, and I will save a lot of money for something someday...in time, I'm sure it'll come.

IF THIS - the bull-shit-ness of our so called relationship - keeps on going....

USE your imagination...