I deactivated my Fbook account. Which means not only that I got solid sick of people's boring children/how-I'm-feeling/what-I'm-about-to-do posts (plus sifting through which people I would unsubscribe to or just plain un-friend), I am going to be writing a lot more on my blog. I have ideas, people. Ideas!
Cleo's all: "God BRYNNAN! You can't deactivate, you post every time I have to piss!" (No.) But yes, I do have things in my head and The Book is the best way to get that out there. Or maybe not? Maybe I've been drinking.
Maybe last night was the single most worst night of my life?
There have been a few.
Once, in what I was sure was a good idea, I gathered all my ex-boyfriend's clothing laying about my house and took a permanent marker to every item, decorating his garb with niceties and poetry and heartfelt things, mostly stuff like "EFF YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT" and "I HOPE YOU EAT SHIT AND DIE," and you know... pleasantries like that. Then I went over to his house where he was entertaining some female companions of sorts and strew all his worthless crap all over his yard, knocked on the door and drove away. (Older, wiser sister on the phone that night: "Brynnan, I really think this is a bad idea.")
Another night (same poor boyfriend) had to endure the 21-year-old gal who had never indulged in tequila, and she who after the first few tastes, and for no real reason, proceeded to beat the ever loving shit out of said boyfriend. Boyfriend, well tempered as he was, quietly wrestled me down and sent me on my way. (Wow, somehow, that guy always comes out really great in stories, and me, not so much). Sidenote: I have since learned that punching men in the face is just plain not fair. I have also learned how to control my tequila intake in order to keep the "inside anger" quelled. Sometimes.
Of course, there's always the night you get the phone call that... same boyfriend!? why does this guy keep popping up!?... has been battered in the head and has a subdural hematoma and you gotta drive two hours because he's asking for you and well, he might die. Pretty vivid/horrid night.
And then last night.... happened too soon to even be funny right now! Wounds are still fresh. People are still angry. Namely me. I will say that if you are crying and your significant other/ex-boyfriend offers you a Xanax instead of solace/comfort/love, then that person is not worth much effort on your part. Sometimes all a person needs is a good old-fashioned hug. And some people (some men) don't know how to offer that kind of comfort. And that is not okay in my book.
My older sister and I used to fight. A lot, duh. We were children, and it was all about who built the better fort that week and who got to play with the deer eyeball and whatnot. And yes, there were broom sticks wrapped around small ribcages during chores and there were surprise shower attacks which ended in broken glass doors and cake donuts placed strategically in panty drawers, so what? But when we fought, our father would A) make us glove up and box, then B) hug. We fought and then we hugged. And said we loved each other. It was forced, naturally, and the two of us would do the whole stand face-to-face thing and I would pretend put my head on her shoulder and our arms would be dangling in nonchalance, but Father would not allow it. We had to "PUT YOUR ARMS AROUND EACH OTHER!" and look each other in the eye and say "I love you," and by that time, it was so ridiculous and hilarious that we were looking at each other and laughing, red Everlast boxing gloves wrapped tightly around each other.
AND THAT is how you end a fight. Not with prescription drugs. Moron.
And so, with that in mind, I have decided I need to start dating again. (This can only provide entertainment for my dedicated blog followers, because if there's anything I hate more than dating, it's that I love blogging about horrible dates). And I think I'm going to start dating some nerdy guy or something because I watched Weird Science for the first time tonight and dude, those dudes are cute. And nerds are always better than jocks or something like that. Plus, a nerd would probably talk to me about Hemingway and stuff like that. Which would be super rad. So long as he doesn't play video games.
And then I'll leave you these two songs. One, Mumford' and Sons: Little Lion Man (so apropos), and my newest and most favorite band right now, The Soldier Thread's: Anybody. Both lyrics are poignant, fitting and meaningful if you really want to get the whole feel of this blog.
I have no idea what I have been babbling about or where this blog went. I hope it is well-written and mildly entertaining. Good night, fellow Mexicans.
love! in a bottle
Oh no! Not xanax!!!
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