Dickhead

So I really think Blogger is fucking with me.  I could have sworn I had a new comment (and follower) when I was on here yesterday, and now the comment and follower is gone.  What the hell, Blogger.

It's 1:52 am Friday night.  I am currently laying in bed composing this entry on my iPhone and wishing I was asleep, seeing as I have to get up in about five hours for my ten-hour workday tomorrow.  Why am I up?  The people who live upstairs in the duplex next door got a brand new puppy I think today and they have it on their front porch and it has been crying for the past hour.  It is this loud, high pitched yipping that will go on for ten to fifteen minutes straight, stop just long enough for me to start nodding off, and then start back up.

Is it wrong for me to want to throw something at said puppy?  It added howling into the repertoire, and I'm exhausted.  I want to go next door and punch the stupid wannabe gangsta chick that lives there in the face.  It's bad enough she'll roll in from the bar at like three-thirty in the morning with the bass blasting and Gucci Mane personally waking me up with his latest little ditty about money, cash, and hoes (high fives to anyone who caught the Jay-Z reference).  Ugh ugh ugh.  I wish I didn't have a job so that I could fill all my time with being a badass bitch.  Really, it must be nice.

Well, Señor Puppy must have cried himself to sleep because I haven't heard him in five minutes.  I'm going to try to go to sleep now, darlings.  Good night.

Monster

I seem to be attracted to bad relationships. Honestly. Perhaps that's why I prefer being single.

What brought on that astute observation? Well, I was sitting here, cataloging all the idiotic men in my life, and they are just that: idiotic. I have wasted a huge chunk of my adult life on morons. I don't know what it is about them that pulls me into their ridiculous orbit. I really don't.

You would think that since I am so smart, I'd have figured this out a long time ago and saved my heart some grief. Apparently romance is where my heart and brain part company. My brain, no doubt brilliant and rational, often tells my illogical, irrational heart that it has serious issues. My heart, on the other hand, just continues its self-destructive dance to heartbreak.

And I've also realized that I can't seem to catch the eye of normal guys. I've tried. All I get are the idiots. And idiots they have been: a handful of urban wannabes, a guy who played me and his wife at the same time for nearly two years (and who unfortunately happens to be Nicky's dad), a really weird short guy who had the tendency to cry, put me down in weird ways, and told me he loved me after two weeks, all while bragging to my ex-friend's husband's family that he was banging me--and, I find out that oh-so-coincidentally he's said ex-friend's husband's sister's baby daddy...And then there's the latest one, who I've been messing with on and off for the past two and a half years. He is yummy, but I think he thinks he's the real life incarnation of Jamie Kennedy's B-Rad. Seriously. His name even rhymes. He grew up in the way-out-there suburbs of somewhat rural Ohio, with an extended stint in San Jose in his teens. Perhaps that's where he found his inner gangsta. I don't know, but what I do know is that he is a poser and it becomes more and more transparent every day.

And why can't I leave him alone? I don't really know, to be honest. He is never going to settle down, he's a player, and he is never going to outgrow this gangsta mentality, if the growing number of meaningless tattoos prove correct. I don't get myself, seriously. And he's the one that has affected me the most...He's even got my brain in on this huge mess.

I think I like setting myself up for heartache. I'm not really sure, but I do know that there has yet to be a normal guy in my crazy tally. It seems my options are either heartbreak or being single. And in all honesty, I'm single now, and the dramatics of my life still suck.

I could write one hell of a bad melodrama based on my bad romances.