from Somerville, MA

  • Activity

    • This about sums it up.. :B

      13 years ago


      :B SlackerSaint = me. Obviously.

      maidenofsif [4:04 P.M.]: Hey lady.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:04 P.M.]: Hey yourself, how are things going?
      maidenofsif [4:05 P.M.]: I am unemployed, living in my boyfriend's parent's house, and it snowed today. Odd. How are you?
      TheSlackerSaint [4:06 P.M.]: I just bought Tales From the Crypt on DVD so I'm stoke-tastic. And tomorrow, allegedly, Rob will be dropping Tessa like a bad habit.
      maidenofsif [4:06 P.M.]: Oooh..really?
      TheSlackerSaint [4:06 P.M.]: Yeah. I'm stoked one way or another.
      maidenofsif [4:06 P.M.]: Excellent. So, I didn't know that he was dating anyone.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:07 P.M.]: Yeah.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:07 P.M.]: He hooked up with her two weeks after we broke up. Then told me that she was the biggest mistake of his life.
      maidenofsif [4:07 P.M.]: Wow.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:07 P.M.]: Or rather, he felt leaving me was.
      maidenofsif [4:07 P.M.]:
      TheSlackerSaint [4:07 P.M.]: BUT HE CONTINUED TO DATE HER.
      maidenofsif [4:08 P.M.]: Morons...boys can be real morons.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:08 P.M.]: This I didn't find out till trying to engage him in phone sex the night of my birthday.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:08 P.M.]: When I pretty much told him I'd pack up and move to Seattle at his mark.
      maidenofsif [4:08 P.M.]: Wow again.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:08 P.M.]: I got upset. EXTREMELY upset. He was hurt that he hurt me and then had sex with her that night.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:08 P.M.]: The one and only time.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:08 P.M.]: Hi.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:09 P.M.]: My life's become an ABC SOAP OPERA.
      maidenofsif [4:09 P.M.]: The only appropriate reaction is fuck.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:09 P.M.]: ROFLMAO!
      TheSlackerSaint [4:09 P.M.]: I love you.
      maidenofsif [4:10 P.M.]: Yes, well, I love you too.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:10 P.M.]: :D!
      TheSlackerSaint [4:10 P.M.]: So yeah. And I'm also kind of hanging out with this dude that may in actuality be gay in denial.
      maidenofsif [4:10 P.M.]: That really sucks.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:10 P.M.]: At least I no longer want to have sex with my roommate.
      maidenofsif [4:10 P.M.]: This is good.
      maidenofsif [4:10 P.M.]: Room mate sex is a really stupid thing to do.
      TheSlackerSaint [4:11 P.M.]: Am I defective? I never can tell.
      maidenofsif [4:11 P.M.]: Horny, maybe, but not defective as far as I can tell.

      I promise something of merit in the coming... few weeks? n_n;

    • The Massochism Tango.

      13 years ago


      I don't know why I do these things to myself, except that I seem to thrive in an environment of self-inflicted angst, agony a word that I haven't thought of at this time. Something that means overwhelmed would be good, but I am sadly without thesaurus.

      So not only did I manage to explode a greeksaladsammich over my right breast, but I also managed to run myself only further and further into debt. Essentially it came to the point of either I had to patch or drop my last, best pair of jeans. The phrase "Something's gotta give," should not be applicable to the seams of the inside of my thighs. I hunkered down and went to Burlington Coat Factory, and exited not 45 minutes later, $200 poorer but looking not unlike a ghetto Santa Claus walking around with this hulking bag slung over my shoulder.

      Not only did I ruin my weekend by whining over lingering feelings, but I acted on hunches. Purely, purely a bad idea. I asked what I didn't want answered and got the expected from it. And conversation ended, abrupt, and message tag followed. To cut the drama good and short, I told the ex he either had to pony up and step out of the role.. or act like he truly is one. No more I love you's, quoth Annie Lennox.

      My response to that is the worse.

      In the aftermath of the breakup not only has there been binges of overeating, but there's been overthinking, aspiring to things above and beyond what would be thought of as my means. I'm attempting, full-out gunning, for a bachelor's from MIT. The designs this time? A masters in Management Science and a minor in Chemistry. I have every intent in indulging in a language--probably Chinese at this juncture, so that I can prep and teach abroad for a semester. That'd be a lot of fun, I think.

      So I procure the literature. I have to take THREE SAT II's AS WELL as the SAT's, none of which I'd ever taken before. This morning, I took first lunch and boogied on down to the COOP, long enough to drain my bank account another $80 in study guides and a calculator, and negelected the while to nab one for the World History exam I'm going to take.

      Not to mention that above and beyond the prep process costing money, there's the cash I have to drop to take the test. More money I simply do not have.

      You may ask yourself why I'm doing this, and what my greater goal may be. And I may not be able to give you an answer at this time.

      Call it chasing dragons. Call it psuedo-cranial-suicide. But, I'm still looking for a life and a means to pay for the way I want to live it.

    • The Meet-Market. Part 1. The Build Up.

      14 years ago


      I'd posted a whiiiile before how I'd set up an internet personal add. I was pretty much well and to the point: I like food, I like beer, I'm totally down with sex and I'm not too wrapped up in how I look, and that, of course, I'm a crappy gamer and have a really piss-poor temper. Now while I love my male friends to death, and I believe that most of my friends list are of the testosterone-based bodytypes.. I admire the nice guy, but I think there are instances where he sets himself up for a fail.

      The contention from my two Saggitarian ex-lovers of sorts was that I billed myself to be a loose-moraled partygirl and was advertising for the wrong crowd. The cusp said I was on the mark, and another party ( one of the Guys Named Mike Contingent ) agreed. Fantastic, I had a decent enough sampling group that didn't reply with "lol" so it wasn't an entire bomb, I'd just have to see what came of it. And since the replies were an even number, being four, I figured the whole ordeal to be scientific enough.

      The idea was simple. I saw someone write about a girl he wants that challanges the world around her. My first line of thought was, "Yeah, okay, right." As such, I wanted to see exactly what kind of guy would want a gal like me. So, there you have it. I exposed myself for the internets to see and bit my nails in anticipation of something good.

      I can't say I'd had overwhelming numbers but that's life, I posted up my weight ( well... give or take 18 pounds ) and the general specifications. My first hit was a miss, I'm here to tell you, a 57 year old "art photographer" that enjoys the finer things in life and handed me his phone number off the bat. Okay, that screamed pervert. I opted to ignore it. Several in a different vein filtered in after that, a late-thirty-something year old virgin, the man who could be best described as an inexperienced rendition of Will Farrell and a former vegetarian Quaker convert.

      I met the newly Quaker dude.

      Forgive me for being shallow, but I am female. It is a natural feeling within most of us that the male should be dominant, probably the stronger in girls that saw their father rarely where they might romanticize the male's role. I'm totally guilty of this. For guys who've asked "Why not me?" there're a lot of reasons. A woman will process at least thirty thoughts at once, and in most cases, she thinks too much on all of them. A man who is unassuming, yeilding and forgiving in every respect, then, would not be able to support them. Because he's nice. Let me give you the rare insight of the average ( and again, not all women think this way ) woman's tangental thought. ( See if you can spot the Chappelle Show reference! )


      He's very nice. He's unassuming and probably ambivalent into everything he does. He says he's a law student. But he wants to work to help people. That means our kids will starve. Will we have kids? We may never be able to afford to pay the bills let alone pay for our offspring. And the odds are REALLY bad to win the lottery. I'd probably get struck by lightening . You know, there are a lot of trees in this park... Oh, so he's almost thirty. He can't possibly get through five years of school and immediately get a job. Five years.. in five years I'll be almost 28, and if I hang on to this and it doesn't work I'll be pushing the envelope of spinsterhood. You know who I really want to have sex with? You know, having children causes varicose veins. That's just gross. ...I wonder what he's like in bed. Oh wait, maybe I don't. He's letting me pick everything, he's wish-washy. Would he make a good disciplinarian? I always have to be the bad cop, I don't wanna be the bad cop anymore.

      Now. I'm not saying us ladies want someone to berate us and chase us around with a belt proclaiming "PIZZA'S NOT FOR BREAKFAST!" Women want something reliable. The nice guy is considered a work yet unfinished, as he has, in the eyes of most, yet to have been spoiled and ruined yet. That alludes to inexperience. Unfortunately there's expectation of at least enough jading. I can't pretend to speak for everyone, but from the tales that I hear and the guys that I've met and the stories they tell me, from both sides of the gender spectrum there is one universal truth: you're not going to win whatever you do.

      Love is something that makes the crazy parts of the brain shut up and indulge in something else for a while. When you feel a fit, and when you get that pull, all of a sudden you're not thinking about the obligations tied to mating. You think of the perks. And maybe, just maybe, when that thing seems to click, you go from being "too nice" to "nice" or to "nice enough." Remember that with dating, sadly, expectation resides. A nice guy can't win, he can't kiss enough and he won't likely curl your toes. But that's because most nice guys are afraid of offending.

      There's nothing wrong with a kind and loving man, but the ones that try too hard are too easily percieved as phony. Don't try and attract a mate with your perfections, give her your flaws. She'll take it or leave it. And if she sees you beyond that, or accepts those things ( because guys, she's going to try and change 'em if she don't like 'em if she finds out later ) she understands you're human. She appreciates the honesty. She's relieved that maybe she didn't have to have sex with you to find out that you're alright.

      End of part one. To be continued.

    • Mostly Dead.

      14 years ago


      Yesterday I hoped to donate blood. Operative word "hoped", not only did my web registration at the Red Cross fail, but after paperwork and dialogue, I ended up climbing up on a cot and finding no matter how you might poke me, I don't bleed. They reasoned I was dehydrated, which happens to me a lot, stuck me the once and decided it wasn't worth the aggrivation to riddle me with holes if ain't nothing going to come out. It went on to confirm my suspicions that I am indeed a zombie. Well damn.

      I went to the doctor's, what, maybe a week ago or something like that. Going on three years ago I had an accident at Wachovia that involved a fifteen pound cash till, catching it overhead one-handed so that it didn't slide from its locker and crack me in the dome. In that accident I managed to twist a muscle into the layer of muscle above it and it's sat that way ever since. They call it a myco---something trigger point, and due to how long I waited its assumed I'll have it for life. The doc's suggestion of treatment? One, physical therapy involving deep tissue massage. Keen, but the cash at hand's a little restricted, as such, not likely. Option 2 is taking Allieve as an anti-inflamitory, and tying two tennis balls in a long sock.. weird enough, I'd have to roll over it and massage out the tissue damage and try and pull the two muscles apart. Yum. So last night I rolled on the ball. Did it a little bit this morning too. Holy sweet evil Jesus is that intense pressure, those little bastards are hard. At one point I had to cover my mouth because the sounds coming out of me were no shade of ladylike.

      Next update, The Virtual Meet-Market.

    • I'll tell ya...

      14 years ago


      Nothing quite like beer and pizza. XD ::Heart!::

    • Friday Fun.

      14 years ago


      I'm foaming at the mouth because The Aristocrats is finally playing up here, but I left my effing debit card back home. I can't go get it in the timeframe I'd like because then I'd be pushing it. I'd be late getting back to work and even better, if I doubled back AFTER work it'd be prime date time.

      Then it dawns on me, most people wouldn't bring a date to a movie like this. G'ah. I'm a dingus sometimes. Well.. it gets better.

      This morning I tried to straighten my hair. I had the supplies, "straightening milk" which is white, creamy and full of protien--telling much?-- the iron, the blowdryer and a roll brush I thought would be sufficient. Let me tell you, I think my mane came out wavier than usual. It doesn't look bad, it just.. doesn't look any shade of straight. Why, one might ask? I thought I had enough time to do it. I didn't, obviously, or I wouldn't have 90's vintage Madonna hair. Only.. dark.

      I'm rambling.

      I kind of had that sort of morning where I woke up and said, "Well, SCREW THIS!" and pretended all of a sudden to care. Sometimes I just have those rebellious mornings where I change the backpack/messenger bag/purse, stuff my makeup in it, and remember I own things like eyebrow mascara. Then I grab my smallest top, my lowest jeans ( which is still chaste by anyone else's standards.. but still ) and pretend that I am a real girl.

      Its one of those days where I say "I'm going to talk to somebody..!" and it usually ends in me going to the movies by myself, the extent of conversation is a breif chat with people waiting in line for concessions, and simply because I left my bedroom I feel contented in and with myself.

      I'll probably put this on the credit card and pay it back when I get home. Normally I would take it as discouragement.. but this is a movie I HAVE to see. And not only that, its walking distance from work. And even better--I think they serve beer at the theater!

    • Chemical Dependance.

      14 years ago


      I've discovered caffiene. Now.. don't misunderstand me, I'm not a "my body is a temple" kind of girl. But I had always been something of a trans-fat polution only kind of gal. See, I have something akin to a hyper-sensitive system. A cup of coffee will have me running for almost a full 24 hours. Two asprin have me numb from the neck down. Yet with all this in mind I'd rediscovered the glory of Duncan Donuts' medium coffee with cream, no sugar.

      I'm an addictive personality, through and through, however I keep my vices purely legal--or, at least to the best of my ability.

      There's something deranged about my recovering-alcoholic-like crutch involving that damned bean. I come away from a relationship, I stub my toe and falter so to speak, and suddenly I need a substance to attach myself to. So as of late I'm a coffee-drinking TV addict. I've started to structure myself around getting myself up to date with Reno 911.

      Now in retrospect, aside from the MAD FREAKING JITTERS, this coffee habit is far better than the complusive eating that I still tend to have bouts with. I'm probably bad enough to reach "Starved" proportions. Which brings me full circle to the television thing. I'm going to have to catch that tonight before Its Always Sunny In Philadelphia.

      But again I still have this weakness for foods that cost me nothing to consume. There's a mess of grub in the fridge at work and tomorrow's cleaning day. There's leftover Bertucci's that seems to be singing my name, becconing me closer, begging for my consumption.

      And what could be such the profound stressor that causes me to behave with this degree of iradicism?


    • Can we just skip mondays..?

      14 years ago


      I totally don't want to go back to work. But I'm sure that's like preaching to the choir.

      The fridge is fixed. And about damned time too. Kind of in a funk right now and I'm not muchly sure why, so I'm going to try and get things done so I don't have to think about it. Scifi Channel is my new best friend, the roommate's away till late tomorrow evening. So there are definate pluses to life right now. Like the ability to do laps around the apartment nekkid. Also kudos go to AOL Radio for actually having a JPop station. Gosh I'm so trendy!

      Right at this instant my biggest greif is trying to figure out what the hell I'm having for dinner. M'eh.. I'm tired of ordering out.

    • The Maytag Man.

      14 years ago


      Amelia is less than happy. In fact, were it not for the fact I'm not 100% sure I can fire a gun ( and that I lack proper anteseptic should I clip my hand as such ) I'd totally be doing that murderous rampage thing. So the fridge is still not fixed. In fact now more pieces of it have been taken off. In my roommate's BRILLANCE he removed the front grate, CONFISCATED MY FLOOR FAN and stuffed it against the fridge. Why? Because some ninny repair man my idiot landlord reccomended said this would make the freezer work.

      Yes, it does, but that doesn't fix jack of crap.

      Oh, and let me also tell you about the interview that didn't happen--in wait for this repairman, BECAUSE MY ROOMMATE DECIDED TO GO GALAVANTING, I'd pretty much been screwed out of going anywhere. Admittedly, things seem to happen for a reason. Not only was the bus not running to get me to the base, but all of this seemed to coinside with the rest of this. I stayed home yesterday through equal points of dissapointment and my inability to trust Mike to handle the issue at hand.

      I got a call from my would-be manager. I had assumed wholly wrong of the job and probably would have taken it, but would not have understood they wanted someone to start immediately. The wages would be equal, which, for me, is not acceptable in that I would have to save to procure a car and I can't if I'm going to be paying much more for monthly transportation and getting home entirely too late in the day. So it seems to have worked out that one of my coworkers ( though in a different department ) both already has a car and is paid less than me. She's been told, effectively, she'd be fired if she screwed up one more time.. go figure how things can fall into place. I don't know that she would enjoy data entry much, but, at least she could find work. So.. roundaboutly the tree of life continues, or something like that.

      Of course another thing of note is my roommate went to a bachelor's party. Well and good, but he didn't get home this morning yet. I'm going to need him to look over the fridge. I'm not playing around any longer, I've decided to contact the one reliable man left in the world, ( sorry if that's a grotesque generalization--but I've grown up around a mechanic, a man who was borderline senile, a boy who goes on to personify indifference, and two men who are politically incompitant on either side of the issue, yet are entirely preoccupied with get-rich schemes. Add to the fact Mike's an artist and my ex was pretty ambivalent towards any direction in life so long as he's romantically involved..) The Maytag Man.

      I can make the appointment online, which enthralls me because they would then be committed to a time. There is no "Bob" nor Landlord mostly uninformed reccomendations.

      Also its become apparent to me that my job has had lasting effects on my interpersonal skills. I can tell very easily now when a person stops listening. But the worst is I've learned to backpedal. While this is good in the work place, its bad at home. Because I do want to shriek, I pay rent, I should shriek. Talking to Mike I've learned the body language, the expressions of "I'm no longer listening to you," "You are being far too aggressive," "I am grotesquely intimidated." Which I've replied to with not a softening of tone, but a rephrasal. Which is then answered with posture and tonality of "You are twisting my arm," "That sounds like a lot of work," and "I am now disinterested and ambivalent." I fire back with expressions of discontent, dissapointment and a curt end of conversation. Before I deteriorate into yelling, throwing things, slamming doors and resorting to drink.

      And the sad part, Mike gets the phone call to ask if he'd be home to recieve a repairman. No such luck, then he expresses dissapointment that I'm no longer calling Bob. Who never bothered to show up. And also, whom Mike managed NOT to get a confirmed ETA. I'm so frustraited I could kill him, but I am now so trained to be cautious and conciencious of feelings from the situation with Robert, that I'm muzzling myself.

      At least I reason if it does not get done my way, after all is said and done, I can get mad like I'm used to. Without resorting to the female games and manipulation. This whole ordeal is making me worry about compromising myself.

    • Totally and completely off-target...

      14 years ago


      Okay. Fine. Mike did hunker down and call the friend of the landlord who's a self-proclaimed handyman. He was in all of about five minutes and left with no sign of success or even the attempt.

      I was probably on my worst behaviour carrying on last night.. well, no, I was behaving reasonably enough. Christy was over for probably the fifth day consecutively and I'm getting to the point where I'm just tired of seeing her. She's a nice person. I keep saying that over and over, she's a nice person. She is. But I'm territorial. At any rate, without ceremony I extricated the XBox from the livingroom and carted it into my room, all in one shot, through the elaborate use of weaving the plugs, cords and extras around my shoulders and neck. I grabbed a fist full of games, my DDR mat and set up shop.

      And probably made it look far more complicated than it needed to be.

      So I dance-danced for a good twenty minutes last night, sweat like it was cool and settled in to make a phone call, watch Reno 911 and watch Rescue Me.

      The phone call went alarmingly well. Basically that job at the Dynamic Research Corp. called and we were playing a mess of phone tag. To the point the recruiter gave me his home cell phone number and told me its perfectly fine to call him at any time before 10pm.

      It gets better.. they're picking me up from where the work shuttle drops off, so instead of having to rent a car or cab it, I'm getting a free ride to the interview. They're actually going to drive me onto the base.

      It sounds like I have a job I didn't even interview for. I'm stoked on one hand and on the other, I'm just out and out astounded. For an under-educated slacker I've shaped up into becoming the accidental overachiever. The price? Well.. that remains to be seen.

      So Rescue Me I'd been meaning to see for almost two years now, I had my first taste last night. I'm pleased, damned pleased. I love Dennis Leary and I really missed The Job when ABC canned it. I'm glad there are some of the actors on that show. And also, I'm falling far more and more in love with Reno 911. Probably going to make a Clementine costume for Halloween. I'm equipped for it. I'm totally starting to get a TV crush on Jones.

      Tonight I go shopping for a more summer-based interview outfit. So.. more girl clothes. I may opt to grab some war paint ( I have two basic color schemes: sheers-and-shiny-with-glitter-I-must-have-been-drunk or boring-ass-neutral-colors-you-can't-tell-I'm-wearing-because-I-don't-like-makeup-anyway ). And I need underwear.

      You know what, I need to be candid about something and because I've had coffee and my arms are all twitchy, now is so the time to do it! So, without further ado I add as a bonus, an underwear rant!

      I don't understand the less-costs-more attitude of undergarments. More than that, when you get to my size.. okay, this I can't fathom. Supposedly men like big boobs. Okay, now, when you have big boobs, shouldn't you have flattering shelving? Shouldn't they be showcased in glorious satins and silks and laces? D-cups should be suspended by gossamer and fabrics you'd use for gowns, they should have chirping birds flitter around them and rosepetals settling about 'em...

      ...Not cotton and DuPont engineered teflon-technology based memory-fabrics that minimize.

      Its sad when I HAVE to have an underwire because everything else seems structurally unsound to hold anything past C. Its like there's someone out there who's punishing me for being born destined to have large protruberances from my chest. I have to go to heavy-girls stores in hopes to find sufficient suspension of these suckers. And not only are good bras hard to come by, they're also hideous. Like they're designed by the flat with intentions of getting even at us for things a lot of us girls can't control.

      Its a conspiracy, conspiracy damnit!

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