Random Thoughts

It should not be much of a surprise that I am my absolute own worst critic. From the time I wake up until I go to bed, I criticize myself over something, usually many things. I could list about 500 things to criticize myself over right now. I often believe others are silently criticizing me.

Yet, when someone actually does criticize me to my face, it is usually for something completely unexpected and it completely blindsides me and I think that is why I never actually defend myself. Happened to me in work the other day. I was criticized for something I did not expect to be criticized for and it left me speechless. And then I got pissed, partly for getting criticized and partly for not defending myself. AS USUAL. I can't know to do something if one does not inform me to do it. I am not a fucking mindreader. But apparently in there, you are supposed to be.

I seriously wonder how long it is going to be before 1 of 5 things happen:

1) I wind up in the nuthouse again
2) I have a heart attack
3) I have a stroke
4) a mixture of any of the above
5) all of the above

Fascinatingly enough, the last four do not scare me nearly as much as the first, although at the rate I am going, I may as well call up the nuthouse and tell them to reserve me a lifetime room. All I have to say is thank god for the deinstitutionalization movement.

Look, all workplaces are generally full of assholes and backstabbers. But this place, for such a small one, can invoke level 5 paranoia (level 10 for someone who is already kinda paranoid like me). You can't do anything in that place without having some kind of major paranoia. I can't even listen to my fucking radio without having to worry it might be annoying someone. I can't ask a question without having to worry about someone bitching about me as soon as I leave the room. I can't ask a simple question without having to worry about author-ity questioning my ability do anything. Um, isn't it better to ask a question when you aren't sure of something instead of doing something wrong? I can't even ask a couple different times or different people on how to do something if I happen to forget because each and every time I get a different answer.

I am really starting to get tired of everyone raining on my fucking parade. Every single time I am excited about something, someone in my family has to make a negative comment about it. I mentioned it before, with vacations, birthdays, and the holidays. But now it is branching out into pretty much everything. I have said a few times in the past week about being excited about the upcoming Apple Festival we go to every year at Peddler's Village and each and every time I have said something, my mom has to say "I could care less about going". I mentioned earlier about how I miss Myrtle Beach and my mom says "I don't care if I ever go there again". Look, I am not asking for anyone to share in my fucking joy, but it would just be nice for once to say I am looking forward to something and not have my family give me their negative opinions.

And yet somehow I am always the negative one! I am the one always ruining people's good moods and good times, which yes, it is true that if I am not having a good time, I have a tendency to get miserable and snippy and start taking it out on everyone else, thus ruining everyone's time. But I don't go around telling people who are excited about their upcoming birthday that oh it is just another day or totally bringing down someone's excitement.

Yes I can be very negative, but hey. Guess I learned from the best now, didn't I?

And frankly, I cannot wait until my sister's wedding is over. I am already sick of hearing about it and I am so sick of hearing my mother talk about how she is going to have a nervous breakdown.

And now I am going to be a parade rainer myself. I was on a former friend's Facebook page and she posted a picture of herself dressed as Marilyn Monroe, her and I quote "hero". What is the fascination with Marilyn Monroe? I must be the only woman on earth who does not see the fascination with her. Yes, she was gorgeous. Yes, she APPEARED to have a glamerous life. But that is the key word. Appeared. Her life was far from glamerous. It was sad and fucking depressing. What was so great about her life that I should worship this woman? What am I missing here?

Um, so anyway, I read an article over on The Superficial regarding the Situation's "book". I groaned like Homer after I read one spiel of it. And then I read this article. I have read numerous things where people, including the lead singer from Florence and the Machine, have said he was actually really nice when he was on Dancing With The Has Beens And The Why Am I Famous Agains and then you read shit like this and it's like we're talking about a totally different person.

What is with this dude? Is he insane? Multiple personalities? Schizo? Drugs? Too many 'roids, even though he insists he does not take them (bitch, please)? Did Mommy engage in some substances of the mind altering persuasion when she was pregnant with him? Or- god save us!- there's two of him? I don't understand how almost every interview I have read with him, something half intelligent comes out of his mouth and a split second later, he says something that makes me want to knee him in the nuts. One thing is for sure- this boy ain't firing on all cylinders.

I saw his little hissy fit on Dancing. He's such a freaking drama queen.

In the article with the "21 year old" girl (who I have to say gave a great verbal slap with that old man line; I lol'd)....is that a stuffed animal in the bed? He has a stuffed animal? Bwhahahaha!

I'd let him pull my hair. There isn't much I wouldn't let him do to me*, except sorry Sitch. You may think you are "the leader" and shit, but you ain't going to be the one calling the shots. Oh no. I've waited long enough to get nailed. This is my fucking game, bitch!

*as long as it is in the realms of what I consider "normal sex", which includes normal missionary, some S&M, doggy style, and although they are both extremely toeing the line of abnormalcy, anal and oral. Whatever happened to just normal sex? Nowadays you have people pissing and shitting on each other and actually *gags* licking each other's butts. Ick!

Anyway, would I read the book? No. Although I did like the part about chicken parm, the only way I would read this book is if I smoked some damn good weed. And was compensated largely. And maybe took some ecstasy, although judging by what I have read on ecstasy and how it makes people feel (and what it did to Peter), I don't think ecstasy would be particularly good for me right now. No one needs to see me slide onto the floor and take my clothes off.

I'd also consider listening to it on tape if someone with a really awesome voice read it. A few off the top of my head- Patrick Stewart, Clive Owen, James Earl Jones. Or someone like Gilbert Gottfried. Or hell, half of the cast of The Simpsons doing one of their characters (a few of my favorite voices are Mayor Quimby, Sideshow Mel, Fat Tony....oh Jesus, I could be here forever.)

I saw a Jersey Shore calender last weekend when I was out with my sister. I would take one with all of the men. Six months of the Sitch, 2 months each for the rest of them. Oh my yes.

In reality, I think the only reason I am finding any of these beefcakes attractive is due to being so sexually frustrated. I am almost 100% sure if by some strange chance I ever got to sleep with El Sitcho, I would wake up in the morning, take one look at him, and scream like Fry did when he found out he was his own grandfather. Then I'd probably sucker punch him in the face, knee him in the nuts, run home, and have a breakdown similar to everyone in the Game Fly commercials. What I would do after that, I really don't know, but it would probably involve assuming the fetal position and sobbing for at least 36 hours because I allowed this thing to deflower me.

Yeah. Imagine years from now, telling a future generation "oh Aunt Slightly Short Of Sane ended up losing her virginity to a guy who was 28 years old but looked about 43 and had a huge ego, a tiny penis, and liked to call his freaky ass looking abs, and later himself as well, "the Situation" and frequently liked to use the word situation even in, er, situations that didn't call for it. Where is he now? Beats me. Hopefu-er, probably lying dead from a steroid overdose in a gutter somewhere."

I wonder if he is looking for an official stalker. I am still holding out for someone to offer me the position of official stalker. *whistles "Private Eyes" while counting bugs*

UPDATE 11.2: The Situation's Brother Is A Lady's Man

*falls onto floor in fetal position and starts sobbing* WHAT IN THE HELL IS THAT?! OH GOD KILL IT WITH FIRE!

Wow. Batshit must be a family trait, as well as looking like you're 160 years old at a young age.

Look, I try not to go after people's looks as much as possible, because I am certainly no beauty queen, but....great Godzilla's Gonads, his brother is fucking hideous. I mean, he is not too bad when he smiles, but that first picture! That is fug of epic proportions. I can honestly say I now understand the true meaning of "recoil in horror" after looking at that picture. I have also found the answer to my previous question of who would I not sleep with right now- this dude!

I get the impression from these pictures alone that he is probably someone who goes around using the "grenade" term on women just like his baby bro does. Hey, Marc, look in the mirror sometime before you call others ugly. Seriously. He probably never does though, because I am sure they all break before he gets a chance to get a good look at himself.

Damn, now I am dying to see a recent picture of the third brother, the one who seems to maybe have inherited all of the brains in the family since he stays out of the limelight. I wonder what the hell his name is. Probably something with an M. I saw the infamous turtleneck picture and I also saw a fairly recent picture in People of the Sitch and his mom and there are two guys in the back who I would guess are his brothers. One has sunglasses on and the other reminds me a little of Vince Vaughn. The latter? I'd hit it, so I am guessing the one with the sunglasses is this beast named Marc. I have yet to see a picture of Old Man Sitch, and since Mom isn't fug like this, I am just going to go ahead and assume this extreme fugliness must come from Dad.