?

Log in

No account? Create an account
No one's forcing you to read this [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
ÇØ|\|®@Ð

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

you never know when you might need to know skills in body disposal [Nov. 2nd, 2006|08:15 pm]
ÇØ|\|®@Ð
[mood |tiredtired]
[music |Spice 1|1990 Sick (Kill]

Here's the thing about people- as much as you think you understand about them, they can always flip on you. You'd think that this would lead to a life without trust, but on the contrary- it leads to a life seaking trust. When you feel you can't trust anyone is when you try to the hardest to find someone that can keep a secret. I don't really have any issues with this, because I don't trust anybody entirely, and that's the way I like it. But I do think it's interesting to watch people struggle so hard to find someone else that they can share their deepest, darkest, filthiest secrets with.

Busses are a good example. Busses are pretty quiet most of the time. Passengers keep to themselves, either absorbed in a book, or nodded their heads to the music only they can hear. Sometimes they sleep, and sometimes they just stare out the window. Personaly, I do none of these things exclusively. I have no routine for the bus, primarily because of my burning hatred for public transportation. I can't bring myself to do anything regularly when I'm traveling with so many strangers who are, like myself, putting their lives in the hands of a driver they probably don't even know personaly. So I try to make the best of the situation by keeping a fairly open mind. The other day on the bus, I sat in the back because no one was back there, and I was hoping to avoid the countless creepy situations that can arise from sitting alone on the bus. However, a couple stops after the one I got on at, a middle-aged woman got on the bus and sat in the row of seats across the aisle. I glanced at her out of basic instinct, but my timing was off and we made a brief moment of eye contact.

Let me just say now. This was one of the ugliest bitches I've ever seen in my life.

It wasn't even one thing that made her so hideous, but a combination of little things that just made me want to jump through the window in front of a moving car, or at least stab my eyes out with pen.

But of course, she gave a weak ass little smile of courtesy as she sat down.

I stared out the window and away from her for as long as I could, but ugly people are kind of like bloody car crashes. If you've ever heard the term 'rubber-necking,' you know what I mean. People just can't help but look. No one honestly wants to stare at some drunk teenager's decapitated body (unless it's your own handywork, then, by all means, enjoy the view), but everyone slows to stare anyone, even turning back for second and third glances. Well, I couldn't help but glance over, if for no other reason but to feel better about myself, and that bitch was looking right at me, waiting. I could see it, too. She was just waiting for me to look at her again so she could start some stupid ass conversation.

Now I'll just give you the gist, because transcribing the conversation would be the same as re-living it, and I don't want to even think about this stupid bitch more than I need to here. Basicaly, she started with small talk about the weather, which, surprise!, SUCKS, then continued on about taking the bus and how much she loves it. Now I'm not sure what happened here, but I must have missed something signifigant, because suddenly her retarded grin has turned into a depressed, fixed stare. I guess she was counting those little lines in the aisle of the bus that stop you from sliding around, because she didn't make eye contact with me while she explained how she thinks her husband is cheating on her and that her boss is probably going to fire her.

Now, if you didn't gather, I wasn't really paying too much attention here, so I didn't really catch the details, but for the sake of this post, I don't think I needed to. The point for me wasn't why this woman's life sucked so much ass, because I generaly don't think twice about other people, and I never think twice about strangers. What got me is the 'why' of the whole situation. Why the fuck did this bitch have to open up to me? Of all people, am I really so approachable that people have to share this kind of personal information with me on such a whim?

No. It's definitely not that. I'm pretty sure that people need people in more ways than we notice. Or at least in more ways than I noticed. When the people in our lives bring us down, we feel a need for either different people, or new people. What we don't think about in times of heightened emotion is that more people, different people, start from scratch, and solve nothing in the long run. People take quantity over quality, which is a shame, because aquaintances are a dime a dozen, but true friends are priceless. Learn who you can trust, and trust them. Don't pour your heart out to people on the bus, because you never know when they're going to make fun of you on the internet.

sex/sɛks/[seks]
The primary source of the sway women seem to have over men, Sex was once defined as intercourse between a man and a woman. Since, the word has evolved into a more general term, breaking through the traditional bounds of flexibility in uses for a word into something far larger and more powerful. Sex is now not only an action, but a symbol in and of itself. Sex is a representation of the carnal instinct of man. Anyone who thinks I should put '(wo)' in front of 'man' needs to shut the fuck up. I'm talking about men. Men run this country, and there is no stronger woman behind every strong man. That's bullshit. We run this planet, and that's the fact. We make more money and we have more power. I'm not saying it's right by any means, just look at the condition this country is in under the leadership of a man. But this is our planet for the time being, and as men, we like sex. They say men think about sex every eight seconds, but I think that's bullshit. I've though about sex at least once every five seconds today, and I get laid pretty often. The only reason women have gained any foothold in this world is because men love sex. Sex is now defined as the ads that make us buy stuff. Sex is now defined as a business. Sex is now defined as both a way of praising someone as well as a way to bring them down. Sex is the most versatile term in the english language, and this is the most specific definition I can give for it. Sex is power. Some use it better than others to gain more power, and some misuse it and end up losing power. But in the end, sex is power.
link2 comments|post comment

For those who don't know what to do after your foes are killed [Oct. 17th, 2006|05:14 pm]
ÇØ|\|®@Ð
[mood |aggravatedaggravated]
[music |Spice-1 | D-Boyz Got Love For Me(feat. e-40)]

I work at BORDERS now, and I'd like to talk about my job.

First of all, if you look in the mirror in the morning, and realize you're going to die a virgin, the last thing you should be doing is going out and getting a job. Nothing can save you now, so you might as well kill yourself. I say this, as I'm sure you've figured, because pretty much all the guys at my work are going to die virgins(with the exception of yours truly, of course). Say what you will about me sagging my pants, but if you're going to wear you're lame-ass cargo pants up to your neck every day, so the bottoms of them are high enough to stay dry if your supposed god decides to flood the planet again, you need some fashion advice. Your loser-ass is not getting on the next arc, so you may as well try to look decent when you drown. No one wants to die looking like a jackass. That's like accidently hanging yourself getting creative with your masturbation(because you're a fucking virgin) by trying the whole asphyxiation thing. Just picture the look on your mother's face when she finds you in her basement, hanging in your closet with your dick in your hand and a thirteen year old girl's instant messages popping up on your computer wondering where the love of her life is. It'd be ugly. But I digress.

My point is, if there's no hope for you, dont go fucking get a job. Just don't do it. Because the rest of us, that don't deserve a darwin award, don't want to have to work with you for fourty hours a week. And using big words to make simple insults doesn't make you any smarter than me, it just makes you a cocky bitch with a vocabulary too big for his own good.

My job sucks ass. Aside from the retarded guys sneaking peaks in the erotica section and thinking no one sees them, I'm surrounded by the only women that would ever sleep with the guys there (except for my friend who got me the job, but she hates everyone too). 'Nuff said.

I work in IPT. IPT is the "Inventory and processing team." This means, I go to work at six o'clock in the morning, and shelve books. Coming from the video store, I figured it'd be a breeze. Boy was that a momentary lapse in judgement. I forgot to account for the fact that Borders is about ten-times the size of Silverscreen, and receives somewhere around five thousand books a day. This means not only do I sort and shelve more books in a day than I care to even look at, but I get to pull the old ones off the shelf to make room for the new ones. Yada-yada-yada, It's boring, I admit, but that's simply because words cannot describe how lame this shit is. If you understood, you'd probably take a power drill to your temple, which is coming up my agenda, right below "Drink enough beer to be okay with taking a power drill to my temple." Fuck a bookstore, I'll see the movie.

Anyway, that being said, I moved back into my parent's house. Fan-fucking-tastic. I was so happy to throw my dignity out the window begging for a place to stay that I completely forgot what pussy-ass bitches they are. But I can't beat two-hundred a month, primarily because I work at Borders, but also because I'm still a lazy fuck. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of ambition, and I'm working fourty hours a week, but I have to take things gradually these days. Any more stress right now, and I'm gonna get straight homocidal in this bitch. Fuck that, I'm goin' for genocide. Nothing like taking your petty personal frustrations out on masses of innocent people by killing them.

He just wants to make daddy proud.

But I've got plenty of plans for my future, I just need a little boost for the time being to help me get some money saved to get back in school and all the bullshit. Hopefully my problems with authority can be put on the back burner and I can pass some automotive classes without pissing the teacher off, but I doubt it. I'm proud of my flaws. They make me who I am. A completely self-centered asshole.

Before I end this post, I'd like to start a new tradition. As I now have regular access to my computer, when I'm not seducing little girls into my icy clutches in under-age chat rooms, I intend on giving my MySpace and Livejournal a little more attention, because I like to be a hypocrite. When I post, I'm going to re-define your world one word at a time, starting with -

fem‧i‧nism /ˈfɛməˌnɪzəm/ [fem-uh-niz-uhm]
Being a complete bitch because your brain makes you act entirely on emotion. Whining and bitching about equality, then expecting to not get your teeth knocked out when you strike a man because you're a girl. Expecting us to; hold the fucking door for you; pay your way; satisfy your desires at the drop of a hat, then proceeding to burn your fucking bra and throw a bitch-fit when we ask "where's dinner?" Feminisim is bullshit, if you want equality, shut the fuck up, step the fuck up, and be an equal. I'm all for it. But DON'T you DARE bitch about it when you get there. I'm in full support of women making the same amount of money as men, but if you ask for one more fucking penny when you're doing the exact same work, I swear I'll lynch you.

Don't forget to brush.

-cb
link18 comments|post comment

complaints, debatably [Jun. 30th, 2006|03:16 pm]
ÇØ|\|®@Ð
[mood |worriedworried]
[music |D12 | Pistol Pistol]

so i turned 19 one week ago today. my mom and step-dad took me and an old friend of mine, lisa, to the buckeye. now i guess i just put too much faith in humanity, because i assumed that if my parents were taking me out to dinner on my birthday, they would be decent, at least for the night. however, my mom was decided this was the perfect time to get on my ass about a job right around the same point in the meal at which my step-dad had that one magical martini that put him over the edge and decided that laughing, pointing, and teasing were appropriate.

you see, as most of you know, i worked at silverscreen for quite some time. i liked my job as much as anyone could like working in a video store, but only got so many hours and only made so much money. but just before mothers day, i came down with some sort of horrible plauge or something, which landed me in the hospital. i was alright for the most part, but most certainly unable to work. however, my manager thought i was calling in and faking just to have a week off, so when i went back to work, i went from thirty five to twenty five hours a week, from nine-fifty per hour to nine dollars, and was told i no longer held a position with any authority.

anyway, point is i quit my job on mothers day. i didn't leave in such a way that i could really put silverscreen down as a reference, which i regret now, but really couldn't help at the time.

so why the fuck am i updating a long-dead livejournal?

now that you've been updated, i guess we can get down to the nitty gritty.

my first instinct when i start thinking the whole world is against me is to focus on the positive. there always has to be something there that you're just not paying attention to when everything seems to be crumbling around you. there's always a saving hope that keeps your faith in humanity, in your life, in your capabilities. these days, the dilemna is finding that one thing to keep me going. why did i even get out of bed this morning?

call me emo, and i may just run you down with my car. i'm being completely realistic here. the remnants of my love life are nothing more than a psychotic chinese girl with some serious detachment issues, and the only girl i have interest in these days has no interest in me. but that's fine, i can live without getting laid or having a girlfriend for a little while, i think i'll make it. however, allow me to backtrack a little, back to the night of my birthday. coming home very late, i was surprised to see my mom sitting at her computer, typing me a letter. and not one of those nice birthday letters...no...it was one of those 'you have one week to have a full time job or i'm changing the locks.' isn't that cute? i fucking hope that bitch chokes to death on her words. slowly.

i'm not here to complain, debatably. but i think this is the right outlet for this kind of stuff. and i think this is the right place to ask a universal question. i have a fair number of friends on here, which happen to be a very diverse group of people, so i think it's reasonable to share my life with you people, even if it is just to see what you think.

yes, i spent this whole week looking for a job, for money, yes, but primarily to stay living in this house. yes i did the footwork. hell, i have even picked out classes that i'd like to take at COM in the fall. i'm putting out more into the world that i ever have at any other point in my life. i'm getting along with people. i'm making and keeping friends. problem is, the world is not giving back to me. anyone's relationship with the world around them, hell, with the universe, has to be give and take. sometimes, we lose loved ones, we crash our cars, our computer breaks, and the universe takes. but as long as you continue to give, even if you don't believe in karma, you have to know that on some level, the world is going to give back to you. there has to been some evidence that your work is not for nothing. that's what keeps me going. that's what keeps us going. the material evidence that what we do makes a difference. the tangible reprocussions of our actions, good or bad. that's the reason we get out of bed in the morning, whether you realize it or not. you go to school, you gain knowledge. work, you gain money. hell, if you even go out simply to socialize, you're still gaining something, even if it is simply getting to know someone better. we have to know that we make a difference in the world, and aren't simply one in six-billion pawns of our governments, our emotions, ourselves, however grim you'd like to get.

i don't see it, people. i simply don't see the world rewarding me or even acknowledging me. i just want to know that i'm making some sort of positive difference. that when i put my time into a friendship, that person isn't going to stab me in the back. that when i put my time into a relationship, that that person isn't going to turn into something they weren't when i met them. people change, i realize this, but the core of a person remains the same, whether you believe it or not. i want to know that when i go out with a smile on my face, people are going to smile back. is that not fair?

we'll see where life leads me, but i hope it's in a more universaly balanced direction...

and that there's a warm bed there.

the streets are cold, through and through.

-cb
link5 comments|post comment

livejournal SUCKS [Apr. 28th, 2005|01:51 am]
ÇØ|\|®@Ð
[mood |annoyedannoyed]
[music |TV | PORN | COCKSUCKING ASIANS #3 that Franki left here]

here, ask me any number of questions about anything and i'll answer them truthfully. hey, while you're at it, read these THOUSAND QUIZZES i took, because you care, then take them! oh, and comment on my journal because i'm a comment whore, and maybe i'll say something nice about you! WOW! LIVEJOURNAL SUCKS!
link7 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Mar. 5th, 2005|02:30 am]
ÇØ|\|®@Ð
I don't know why people don't like me.

Maybe they're jealous.

Not of my looks.

Not of my charm.

Not of my knowledge or my wit.

They're jealous of me because I know what they don't.

I see what they can't.

I know why things happen, why things work out the way they do, why our lives and our loves become what they are, no matter what we do to try to change them.

I can see.

And you can't.

And you hate me for it.
linkpost comment

now with picture, fuckers! [Jan. 1st, 2005|11:12 pm]
ÇØ|\|®@Ð
fresh start



comment to be added.
link15 comments|post comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]