Fuck it

A few months ago, I was sitting at my computer, browsing the internet, when I came across this thing called a blog. I can't quite remember what I was searching, although I'm absolutely positive it wasn't Kathy lee Gifford's nipples. What I was looking for at the time, is completely beside the point.

There are very, very few of you reading this page right now, that have followed my blog from the beginning. I know this for a fact, because I honestly have no idea how the hell most of you even found me, or what intrigued you enough to keep on coming back. Other than the fact that I do have a fantabulous tushie, I think in retrospect, I'm a pretty average twenty-something female.

Now as to where this post is going, I'm having a little trouble spitting it out, because nothing annoys me more than people that feel the need to bitch and moan about absolutely nothing. It takes a lot to get under my skin. For the most part, I try to be friendly to everyone. I have never intentionally been a spiteful or vengeful person. I've never intentionally bickered or sat and gossiped about people I dislike. Actually, when I dislike a person, they never even know it. Call me stupid, naive, or whatever you like, but I don't even dislike many people at all. I give most people the benefit of the doubt, that they're good people and have no reason to hurt me since I've never hurt them. I guess that some people get their thrills and chills out of it though...Yeah, shit, OK! I'm rambling again. Let me try one more time.

I've emailed with a few of the people that read this blog. You all know who you are. I'm not talking about the one liners that people sent me when I was sick, or the cute little balloons people sent when I decided I was collecting them, but I mean genuine conversations, where I opened up and formed friendships. I've been told by a lot of people that I know in real life, not to get too attached to these online friendships, because they come and go, and I have the tendency to trust far too quickly and get emotionally attached to people. When it came to blogging, I found it fun and didn't let myself get attached to anyone. I kept everything pretty public. By everything I mean, my conversations, my friendships, and didn't take anything more serious than it needed to be. It seems to me that there are a lot of people out there that just love to dig deeper. They love to try to crossover and make blogging a little more serious than need be. Personally, I don't need the fucking drama. If I needed internet drama, I'd go in search of it, like so many people tend to do.

Honestly, I don't want any part of it. If people are so miserable that they need to pry into my personal life and make up bullshit stories about who I am and things that I've done, more fucking power to you. You win.

I've been sitting and letting this sort of simmer down in my brain, because I still don't understand the logic, or even the point, but I think I'm just going to go away for a little bit. I've never pretended to be the strongest person around... I've never pretended that I had the perfect life nor have I ever pretended to be anything that I'm not. I was always just myself. Anyway, I hope that the people that do read this blog regularly, and email me from time to time, don't go away. I'll be back. I just need a little break. Normally I wouldn't even tell people I'm taking one, but since I'm probably going to stay away for a little longer than a couple of weeks, I figured it deserved mention. I'll still be around and commenting. C'est la vie...

Get on your knees baby and....pray?

I have a cousin that's going into her eighth month of pregnancy. Before you start bitching and moaning, no. This is not another anti-pregnancy post...I saw her the other night and made a comment on how absolutely beautiful her hair had become. She then informed me that when you get pregnant, the hormone that makes your hair fall out (we all lose 100 strands a day, or so) stops being produced, so you simply stop losing your hair. Seriously, she has, in turn, this crazy-thick, gorgeous, stunning, awesome and shiny hair! The catch? Of course there's a catch... After the baby is born, a woman loses her hair FOUR TIMES FASTER than she used to. FOUR TIMES! Babies steal your hair. That's fucked up.

**********

When I was in New York, I stopped with a friend of mine to see the inside of the old St. Patrick's Cathedral. While we were there, I decided that I wanted to light a candle.. After we left, I told my friend about my bright idea, and we ended up going to another, rather large church with stunning architecture. Nothing like St. Patrick's but that's beside the point.

When we first entered, I thought we were the only ones inside until I saw a nun praying close to the front of the church. I saw the prayer candles that I was there looking for, but I had to take a different entrance to get to them. I went back out and back in the other door. It was extremely dark and kind of eerie in the corner by the candles... I hadn't done this since I was a little kid, so I was a little bit nervous. I dropped my backpack and read the sign on the wall. "PRAYERS 25¢." There was something else that cost a dollar, but the fact that I had to pay a toll at first had really thrown me off. I dug inside my pockets, found no change, and ended up going into my backpack. Still no quarter, so I ended up pulling out a dollar, and figured I'd light 4. I mean, hey, I guess candles are pretty cool and they're sure fun to light. (No. I'm not a pyromaniac or anything... I just like lighting fires... which is technically the definition of a pyromaniac, but I don't enjoy it enough to burn houses down...whatever...shut up.) I folded up my dollar and put it into the little slot opening at the top of the box, and began looking around. I looked around for matches, a lighter, torches? Anything? Nothing. Then I spotted the other sign which in much smaller print, read "PUSH BUTTON ON TOP."

Blink. I rubbed my eyes. Double blink.

The Candles were light bulbs.

I ran back out as quickly as my short little legs would carry me and I found my friend. "You're not going to believe this," I said to her. I then proceeded to point to the candle display. "Nah, come on. There must be matches and real candles around here, somewhere," she said, squatting and then standing on her very tippy toes and peering around like it was going to change her view or the fact that there were no candles anywhere in the whole fucking place... "I mean, how else are you supposed to light the candle?"

I held out one finger, placed it above the candle and pushed the little red button.

"POP!" The little light came on.

"It's like a game of Trouble," I said.

"Weird!" (she giggled.)

"I know..." (I wasn't giggling.)

"I've never seen anything like that. It's seriously not normally like that." (she giggled again, almost uncontrollably.)

"I don't believe you." (me. still not giggling.)

Out in the foyer, which I'm pretty sure has an entirely different name when it's a church foyer, we read the information painted on the walls. According to the history of the church, it has already burned down. Twice. I guess they just weren't taking any more chances.

"Well, damn, S. Why didn't you light a candle while we were at the huge St. Patrick's Cathedral?" my friend asked, while still smirking and giggling, unable to control it anymore, so it had actually, by this point progressed to full-on laughing by this point...

"I didn't know I could." (at this point my lip is out about as far as a pouty lip can go.)

Who's in charge here, anyway?" (I swear I wasn't drunk.) I saw the nun standing up from her prayers and I slowly walked over to her waiting for her to pull a yardstick out from under that gown and smack my knuckles with it, "Sister? Um..ehhm...uhh..."

"Yes? Do you need help with something?" the nun asked.

"Well, uhmm.. yes. I do."

"How can I be of assistance?"

"Who's in charge here?" (I should note my friend in now sitting in a pew, with her face so buried in her hands becase she just can't hold it in anymore, at all.)

The nun raises her hands, smiles and before I say it, I can bet, you guy know what's coming. "HE" is in charge. This is "HIS" house."

(fuck. see? I knew I needed an invitation..)

I'm looking around for this "HE" and I said, "well...where is he?" I swear at the time I thought that she meant a Monsignor or something.

"HE" is everywhere.

"Kay, time to go..."

Sometimes, my lack of religious knowledge is kind of embarrassing. I did go to catholic school growing up, and my grandmother is absolutely devout. I, on the other hand, am not. I almost figured I was going to have a problem going into that church without someone that was actually from it or some kind of a formal invitation. I didn't want to get thrown out or unintentionally disrupt anything. My aunt tells a story about getting in trouble for taking communion before she was old enough. I know there are tons of rules. I just didn't want to be disrespectful.

But come on...dropping a quarter into a box and then pushing a fucking button? For some reason, that just doesn't quite seem like the right way to pay respects or send off some kind of "prayer." So Dad, I know there's no one relaying messages to you or anything but you should know that you were thought of and to prove it, there's a church somewhere with little light bulbs lit, just for you.

Ahh how I love the sweet bliss of ignorance...

SiMpLy CuRiOuS gIrL

Fatal Attraction

Before you decide if you're in love with someone, it's extremely important to know if you're pursuing said person, or merely stalking them. One of these options is all charming, and makes your tummy flutter, while the other is pretty scary, and makes your tummy drop to that lower part of your spine reserved solely for your kidneys.

Now there is definitely a fine line... Some might consider Romeo a stalker, and he sure has hell had some stalkeresque qualities, but there was a mutual attraction there, and sometimes, that's the bottom line. If the love/lust, goes both ways, dive right in and go for it. If it doesn't, it might be time to reevaluate the way you approach your love, and decide if you've passed the dreamy boundary right into the creepy zone.

A checklist, If you will:

THE PHONE

The lover calls you to find out how your day went. He called to make sure your dentist appointment went OK. To see if you got the little note he slipped you. He calls to tell you that he misses you and thought about you during the day, and uh, by-the-way-have-you-lost-weight?

The stalker calls to find out if you saw him watching you today. He calls to find out why you didn't TELL him you had a dentist appointment and why you didn't ask for his opinion on a good dentist because he knows an excellent one and that's why you should marry him and have his babies...he calls to ask if you got the 5 letters that he left for you and the four he gave to your sister to give to you and the other three that he put on your windshield and the one that he left in your coat pocket...(how the hell did he get a note in your coat pocket?), he calls to tell you that he misses you and thought about you during the day, and uh, by-the-way-are-we-losing-each-other?

YOUR EMAIL

A lover sends you an email to say hi, honey. Miss you. On my way to the store? Need anything? love ya. xoxo

The stalker sends you an email to say, HI HONEY, MISS YOU!!! :( On my way to the bridge...will you stop me? I LOVE YOU!! XOXOXOXOXO!!!!!

THE MUSIC

The lover sends you music and will occasionally write you a song or two that's pretty awful, but you love it regardless...because you can hear his voice wobble just a little when he gets to the part about sleeping warm and nestled in your arms.

The stalker will compose hand-written lyrics and tape them to your front door...some that he made up and others he scraped together from somewhere else. He'll write you songs, too, and you hear his voice wobble a little bit too, when he gets to the part about breathing in your last breath...

The lover's music selections for you are probably going to be "Everlong" by Foo Fighters, "So Happy Together by The Turtles and Crazy for You by Madonna.

The stalker's selection will be: No one Else by Weezer, Walking after you, by Foo Fighters, and Right here Waiting by Richard Marx.


YOUR FAMILY

The Lover is genuinely interested in your family and is nice and respectful when he meets them. They ask about him when he's not around and ask how he's doing.

The stalker is interested in an invitation to the next family picnic or reunion. They ask about when said person is talking them to Six Flags again.

THE DOORBELL

The lover: One ring

The stalker: Thirteen. Just to make sure you hear him.


YOUR EXES

The lover puffs up just a bit around exes, and makes sure that it's known that he's the head man in town. He threatens (but only in private) that he should kick their asses for what they did to you in the past.

The stalker kills ex and leaves his rotten carcass lying on your front porch like a cat leaves its kill. He's sitting next to him, all puffed up, looks up with bulging (but loving) eyes, and says,"Who wants a picnic?"


THE NICKNAMES

The lover calls you "Honey," "Sweetie," "Baby." or "Cutie."

The stalker calls you "Eternal Love," "Princess of my Underworld," "Master of my Dementia," or my personal favorite "Miss-Never-Call-Me-Back."


THEIR EXES

The lover refers to his ex-girlfriends as "Her," "The last one," or most of the time sometimes even "bitch."

The stalker refers to his ex-girlfriend(s) as "The one that got away," "The girl from Canada," or "Little Miss Runs Real Fast."



Please people. Don't be stalkers. Please. Don't encourage stalkers. If you stand outside the door and go,"I fucking mean it! Stop it! I'm gonna tell my new boyfriend and he'll be really, really mad....did I mention I'm gay?"(that's encouragement) Just tell him to scram then ignore him...trust me. They'll keep coming back just at the slightest touch of weakness. If you even look like you could be softening up because you feel bad for him and/or, you secretly kind of like the attention, you're only getting what you deserve.

Love is a very beautiful thing, and if done properly, the wooing process is the stuff that the best stories are made of. Stalker stories are only fun to tell during late night sleep overs, cookie dough sessions, campfires, or to get some guy to get the stalker off of your back.

Now, Simply Curious Girl, you ask, what on earth prompted this story? I'll tell you. Not that I haven't had my fair share of stalkers, because believe me...I have, but I watched the stupid, silly-ass movie, Play Misty for Me, last night, and I swear Clint Eastwood should've seen that bitch's stalkin' ass coming a mile away, and I don't want to perpetuate that kind of behavior.

On the day that Everyone's Irish!

So this is just a quick post to wish everyone a great big happy St. Patrick's day!

I can't say that I'm a heavy drinker, like most in my family. My sisters can raise a glass with the best of 'em and drink all night without passing out falling asleep. Even my Mom can guzzle handle her booze, when she chooses to drink. I, on the other hand, am a total sissy lightweight. If my father wasn't already dead, those few words would've probably dropped him dead on the very spot where he stood.


Whatever the case may be, I'm still Irish and proud, and this is the one night of the year, other than of course, my birthday, where I'll have a few with family; drink and be merry.

Everyone is Irish on St. Patty's Day! So raise a glass and Sláinte!

Dare I say It?

I suppose I should start this post off with a little bit of explanation. I haven't been posting very often for the past month and yes, there's a reason. Not to worry, I haven't run away and joined the circus (yet) or dyed my hair purple and electric green, shaved half of it off and tattooed the anarchy symbol on my forehead to join some crazy cult in the depths of the tunnels of Paris.

Everyone has their own lame special reason for blogging. Some people are extremely funny (or think they are) and choose to share that with the world. Some people are constantly whining (those have to be the worst types of blogs and I avoid them at all cost). Some people are emotional and needy. Some write blogs so that they can keep their friends and or family posted on the happenings going on in their lives, while others start one just to be able to write about things that are meant to be kept secret from them. My blog varies.

When I first started writing, it was a place for me. A place to sort of rant and write. A place to hide from the world and be able to speak completely freely. My little diary. I had no idea I would accumulate readers, or that people would actually give a shit about what I had to say. I honestly didn't care if people noticed it or didn't, because I meant it when I said this was meant to just be a place for me to write whatever I felt like. I've been keeping journals since I was a preteen, so when I wandered into blog world, I was fascinated by how many other people opened up their lives for the world to take a peek in, and I thought "Eh, what the hell. Why not?" I like the idea of people peeking into my diary and giving me their opinions and feedback.

Not too many of you have been reading my blog since the beginning, but most of you have been reading it long enough to know a lot about me. I'm not a girl that's easily summed up in 100 words or less. I guess if I had to give a quick summary of myself, I wouldn't be able to, so I'm not even going to pretend to try. I do know that it's hard to reach my heart. Well, not extremely hard to reach it, but extremely hard to penetrate the wall that I've built so strongly around it. Many have tried and many have failed. I'm starting to sort of ramble and I'm sure you're wondering what any of this has to do with why the hell I've been missing. Maybe you've already put it together... But let me quickly run back to what I mentioned before. This blog is pretty much a place where I write about what's on my mind. Obviously something has been on my mind so much that I haven't been able to write about anything else at all... So let me take a deep breath a kind of just let it out so I can get on with my normal writing and stop feeling like I'm holding back on a huge chunk of my life. The only reason I haven't written about it is because I was afraid of judgment and what people would think. But you know what? Fuck it. I've never intentionally hurt or been mean to anyone in my entire life. Hopefully my karma is good enough at this point in my life that I won't have to regret speaking freely in a forum that's supposed to be friendly. Anyway, this is my diary. Right?

Simply Curious Girl has been bitten by a bug. Bitten. Smitten. And so it is written... I am completely and utterly in, dare I say it? No...can't... I have indeed become interested someone that has captured my heart. It's become difficult to concentrate on work, writing, and even sleeping. I spend countless hours sending instant messages, emails and talking on the phone. It's almost like being a middle school girl, all over again. I get the butterflies in my stomach that make me have to catch my breath, and an electric surge that rushes through my veins when we speak. When I wake up in the morning, I rush to my phone and send a text message saying "good morning" and I talk on the phone every night until my eyes sag and grow so heavy that I can't keep them open anymore. My family watches me giggle on the phone and twirl my hair while I bite my lower lip and grin, talking for hours on end. "You hang up first." "No, you." "I'm not hanging up until you do..." "Well, I'm not hanging up..." "Come on I have to get up early tomorrow!" "So hang up!" "You first..." Ah. I do believe I'm hopelessly in... Dare I say it?