I should be a doctor

I think I should be a doctor. I mean not a surgeon or anything like that just your regular primary care physicians. I don’t think I need school for it. Actually I’m almost positive from what I’ve seen school isn’t necessary. All I need is an office a few secretaries, a computer with internet (the internet is key) and a nurse or 2. Fuck the diploma. I mean I’ve been to the doctors. They haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know from looking up symptoms on the internet or seeing a commercial for a drug. If you got this you take that. If it hurts or itches there you rub some of this on it. I mean come on the nurses are the ones that do all the real work. Take blood, give shots, and talk to the patient. All the doctor does is comes in the room makes you breath in and out (I’m not really sure what this test is for but they always do it no matter what your ailment is). But I’m pretty sure it’s for congestion or pneumonia.

You say, “I have a head ache”
“Well… let’s take a look” the doctor says as he grabs for the stethoscope and puts it on your back… “Hmmm, now breathe in, and again.” He/she then flashes a light in your eyes a couple times and says. “Well ok I’m going to write you a prescription for Topamax. Hear you go. Take this to the front desk. Have a nice day”

Ok what was all the fucking breathing for? Are you trying to trick me into thinking you actually did something besides give me a fuck’in pill becase you saw the same dame comercial I did last night? Do you really not make enough money off me to give me more that 15min of your time? Maybe try explaining something for once so I don’t have to ask 20 questions. How about stop acting like you know everything and give me real reasonable options about what is happening to me.

If I was a doctor I would be like “Shit, I’m not sure what is wrong with you but I think it’s _____ and we should try ________ to see if that works. If that doesn’t work then we will have to try something else but it looks like from the symptoms you are describing it is most likely _______. Don’t you worry I’m here to help you and we will figure this out together. But until then let’s run some blood test to cancel out other possibilities”

That sounds reasonable right! Why the fuck can’t some doctors just say that?

I hope I don't get sick.

Love is like unsweetened chocolate. It taste good but it’s fucking bitter. Falling in love makes me sick. I literally get sick. My stomach turns, I can’t eat, I get dizzy, and I have trouble breathing. I’m not sure if I like the feeling or not. On one hand it’s exciting and tingles kinda like drugs. I even get a little woozy. But the hangover is a bitch. It’s much worse than a night of heavy drinking at least recovering from a hangover only last a day. But recovering from a love can take years. Sometimes you won’t ever recover. You drag yourself around with a dull langover (love hangover) for the rest of you life. I’m sure since the invention of devoice there are a lot of people walking around like zombies with some serious long lasting langovers.

These langovers take up so much of your life that it limits your chance to feel the good parts. The bitterness takes over and you don’t believe anything anyone tells you.

“You’re so sexy”
“You’re so amazing”
“God, you’re beautiful”

All the while in you head you think to your self “I heard this before and it didn’t end well. Where did I hear this? Oh yeah it was that fucker who hurt me. The one that made me feel like shit for months on end.” So you stop believing the words people say and you sabotage your love, by thinking this one is lying too, or once she/he gets to know you better they won’t want you anymore. You're damaged goods. It’s not your fault you’re only trying to protect yourself.

But the biggest fear is not only hurting yourself but hurting the other person too. the person you are falling in love with. You are reminded of all the pain you and your “ex” went through trying to make it work and in the end it failed. Why should this be any different? I haven’t changed; I’m still the same person. It’s so hard to remember that they aren’t the same person. They’re a new person and not that person that hurt you. They might see things in you that the last person didn’t.

So as the song goes “Don’t stop believing”

Oh god, that has to be the cheesiest blog I have written so far. I might just have to delete it.

Over Texting

Stop over texting!

O.k. I understand you may have an unlimited text plan and think texting is the best form of communication since the invention of cave painting, but I DON’T. I like to hear your voice. Sure you can text me if you are coming over and you want to tell me you’re on your way. Or if you are just thinking about me and wanted to tell me how wonderful I am. But I don’t want to have a conversation like this.

Text 1: Hey what’s up?

Return text: Noth’in :)

Text 2: Want to hang out?

Return text: Yeah sure where you wanna go?

Text 3: I don’t know what about the place on Charles Street?

Fucking call me, for Christ sake! You just cost me 50 fucking cents, to communicate something that would have been free and taken 2 seconds to say.

If you or your friend doesn’t stop this immediately and one of you call the other. This could go on for hours or even days. You will have a pages of text in you phone that say things like,“Yeah”, “Cool”, “ok”, “Yup” , and each one cost the person who doesn't have unlimited text .10 cents.

So is it my fault I don’t want to pay any extra 20 bucks a month for unlimited texting so I can be bombarded with “yeah” and “cool”? I do love all my friends. I Acutally love them so much I want to hear the sarcasm in their voice. You can tell so much more from hearing a person’s voice. Like weather they are pissed off at you, or if they are annoyed by you. If the like you. ;)

Now boys, I know it’s hard, girls can be intimidating. But you know what they like even more than text…. It’s hearing your sexy voice over the phone. So give it a try I bet you will get a lot more attention from them if you call. We don’t mind text, but we love it when you call. Flirting with text is fine but when it gets down to the nitty gritty, your ass better start calling.

Don’t get me wrong texting is awesome. I think it’s great for giving people a heads up on what’s going on or where to meet, an address or a picture of something you think they would like. But not for whole conversations, breaking up with someone, or informing someone of a death.

Text: "Billy just died thats way sad :("

Text: "I can't do this anymore. I think we should just be friends, Sorry"

If you want to chit chat or inform me of a tragedy; PLEASE just call. I would love to hear your voice. ;)

Ewww Yuck… but your kinda cute.

For some strange reason for centuries humans have gotten shits and giggles out of breeding animals to look as fucked up as possible. Example: the Persian cat. The Persian cat has been breed so its face is so flat it can hardly breathe, and its hair is so long that it can’t take care of its own grooming. So what you end up with is a spit snorting matted hair ball. They may be cute but grooming cost and vet bills will leave you broke.

You have to feel bad for little things those big bulging eyes looking at you as the continuously gasp for breath. They seem to be saying: “You did this to me, and now you have to pay. Clean my litter box. Take me to the groomer. My eyes are runny I need a vet appointment. What is that just dry food? Oh no that just won’t do. I will sit here and stare at you until all my demands are met. Now get to work pathetic human.”

Cats aren’t the only animal’s bread to mutation. This is also done with dogs For example: Pugs, greyhounds, shitzus, english bulldogs, and so much more.

I’m currently living with 3 of these deformed animals.

One hyper active pug with a smashed in face that can’t breath and spits on everything it comes in contact with.

A lazy spoiled greyhound with translucent skin that thinks it has the right to ask me to move out of my seat on the couch to make room for her.

And last but certainly not least a Persian. One of the dirtiest cats I have ever met. She always has something stuck under her chin, goop around her eyes and her little paws are always gray with dirt no matter how often you clean her.

Despite there deformaties and there personality disorders I think they are sweet and I love them. I’m not sure why. It’s like they have put some sort of spell on me that makes me give in to all their demands. I feed them, pick up their shit, take them for walks let them (all of them) sleep in my bed. It insane! They have some deformed animal powers that cause you to go:

“Aww, its ok. Here have the rest of my sandwich I wasn’t that hungry anymore anyway. You look like you need it more than me I can see your ribs, and your pointy nose did already touch the crust.”

“Oh it’s o.k. . . You can have that pillow I will use my rolled up pajama pants insted. Your eye goop is all over it and I will have to wash it yet again anyway.”

“No really paint on the walls is overrated. Go ahead and scratch at the wall until we can figure out what it is that you want. don't worry about trying to comunicate your needs in a less distructive way”

For: Bella (the pug) Daisy (the Persian) and Ember (The greyhound)
Thank you for keeping my days packed with hours of amusement and love.

Running Scared

I started jogging in the morning recently. I live in the city so I jog around a small man made lake. My biggest fear is being wrestled off the track and stuffed into a van, raped, murdered and left on the side of the lake to be found by one of my fellow joggers. Not to long ago there was a dead person found in a car next to the lake. This has made my imagination go wild. But it hasn’t stopped me for getting my daily exercise, because that sort of thing happens in this city much too often to. If I let it bother me I wouldn’t ever leave my house.

Yet it still lingers in my mind as I trot around the lake with my head phones on jamming out to some awful dance remix of some crap singer. (I like to run to poppy dance music. It keeps me moving. I think it’s the repetitive beat.) But as I run I keep one eye on the track and the other in my peripheral in case of a side attack. I’m on guard at all times ready to attack that anonymous ski mask wearing rapist, but usually it just another jogger that passes by. And when they do I jump and sometimes I even shriek or yell a little. Scaring both my self and the other jogger.

“Ahhh...” I Screaming hysterically. “Shit you just scared the crap out of me.” I try to say through my heavy breaths to the jogger tyring to pass me.

“Sorry” he replies with a strange look on his face.

“Oh my god! What was that?” I think to myself. Oh, it was just Brittany Spears heaving breathing during an instrumental break in the song. “♫ Don't you know that you're toxic… huh u huh huh…♫”

“Ahhhhh…” I scream again as the next jogger approaches. “Shit I’m going to have a heart attack if this goes on much longer” I think to myself as my heart rate races not just from the physical activity but from my delusions of being attacked.

I start to relize the other joggers must think I’m a lunatic, screaming as if I have turrets every time someone passes me by.

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t run up behind a person?” I yell at them in my head as more joggers manuver to get by me. As if my paranoia is their fault and not my own for insisting to wear earphones while jogging.

At last I come to the end of my run, do my stretches and I think “I better fucking loose weight from this. Other wise it’s not worth the stress. Fuck that health shit this is way to dangerous.” Then light my cigarette and go home.

I love my animals but I might have to eat them.

Warning the fallowing may upset the average animal lover.

The Chinese culture eats dogs and cats. I'm pretty sure they don't taste that good. Other wise American’s would have found a way to make it socially expectable. You know how we love our food. Chinese food really isn't that good anyway. Real authentic Chinese food is bland and slimy. The American fusion Chinese food that we get at the local takeaway, that's a whole different story. That Chinese’s is pretty good. If you fried up some cat and slathered it in General Taos sauce, I bet it would taste pretty fuck’in good. (I do love me some General Tao). If I ever make my way to china I think I might have to try a little dog or cat. I mean really, what makes a cat or dog any different than a pig or cow. I really don't have the right to criticize. You have to remember it’s not like their eating someone’s pet it’s just some anonymous animal. Just like that burger you ate the other day was some anonymous cow. I seriously doubt that in china people are dognapping people’s pets for black market gourmet meals. But then again, you never know.

Now under most circumstances I wouldn’t eat a pet, especially not my own, but there is a time and reason for everything. One circumstance that I feel it is completely valid to eat your cuddly bunny or cute little schnauzer is during the apocalypse. When the apocalypse happens the pet owners of the world will be set. Everyone else will run out of food and we will have our dogs and kitties for reserves. Fresh meat well raised, lean, it’s like free range chicken. All these health nuts that grow there own veggies and shit would love it. They would know everything about there food from the time it was born. I bet it’s better for you than most store bought meats anyway. I’m planning on stocking up on Hoisin sauce just in case. I can see it becoming the next big heath craze.

“Know your meat! Buy your very own baby bunny today.”
“It’s 10pm did you know where your meat for dinner came from?”
“For good strong joints and bones choose Labrador they get a long with the kids and are big enough to feed the whole family.”

I love my Bella, she is a great dog. We cuddle every night together and watch T.V. She is like a child to me. I love her more that most humans I meet. But when the apocalypse comes and I'm out of food you know I might just have to eat her. Honestly, I think she would understand. I know she would definitely eat me if roles were reversed.

For: Bella, I love you my little roast piglet.

The Sandwich

The Sandwich has to be the most perfect meal ever conceived. I can't imagine a meal or single food being as good as any sandwich. Sandwiches make any meal portable and are a wonderful use for leftovers. Why would you ever need to eat anything else? Look at Jerry from subway. Even though Subway makes some of the worst sandwiches in the world. Which is one of the reasons he's probably lost all that weight. I bet you he lost his appetite from there crap bread and old veggies, and became depressed watching the subway employees just slap stuff on bread like it meant nothing.

Anyways back to what’s most important, the components of a great sandwich

The Components of a great sandwich are:

One, good Bread or Bead that best suites the sandwich you are creating. For example most sandwiches should have a fresh bread preferably whole grain like rye. But there comes a time when you are trying to achieve a sandwich that entices a childhood memory. I haven't met many children who eat "Brown" bread. The fallowing sandwiches call for paste white bread: The classic PB&J, The notorious "brown bag" Tuna salad (fabulous when served with UTZ salt and vinegar chips), The Plain Jane egg salad and last but certainly no least the all American grilled cheese. These sandwiches can be tarted up and guccified but usually taste best in there traditional state. Which is white bread and of course the cheapest ingredients you can find.

P.S. Egg and Tuna salads should only include mayo and Salt and pepper when trying to achieve a reminiscent sandwich. No fru fruy parsley and crap.

Two, is “the innards”. This is typical meat and veggies like lettuce but can truly be anything your heart desires. The best innards I have found to be are leftovers. Say you made a lovely chicken diner the night before and you have some biscuits, chicken, potatoes, and green beans left over in the fridge. Well you got yourself one kick ass sandwich. All you need to do is heat everything up in the microwave and toast that biscuit. Now stack that bitch up and eat away.
Leftovers are not the only good innards. You can get great innards at the deli. Buy meats that you know you like. There is no reason to explore. This is a sandwich for Christ sake not a gourmet meal. So stop trying to recreated that Gucci sandwich shit you got from Cosi for 10 bucks on your lunch break. Oh yeah and make sure you request your meat shaved. This is what makes the meat melt in your mouth. You also can get a variety of cheeses from the all American yellow to the horse radish infused cheddar.

Three, is The Assembled. The assembly of a great sandwich should never be rushed. Remove all the ingredients from the fridge prior to assemble. You shouldn’t need to look for anything half way through. Know what you want on your sandwich before you start to put it together. If you don’t you may end up with some thing strange that could ruin your sandwich experience. For example pickles and peanut butter or capers and apple butter. The only people who can survive eating these awful concoctions are teenagers and hormone crazed pregnant woman.
Also make sure to assemble in the fallowing order. It not only helps hold the sandwich together but it also harmonizes the flavors.

Bottom: one Bread slice
Middle 1: Condiments applied to bread
Middle 2: Meat, Bean or tofu (Deli meat has to be shaved)
Middle 2 ½: Cooked veggies
Middle 3: Cheese (use slices unless you have a cheese that can’t be sliced example: Feta)
Middle 4: lettuce, Greens or any other crisp veggie. Cooked veggies like potatoes, and grilled onions should go below cheese level 2 ½.
Middle 5: Additional condiments applied to top layer of bread
Top: one bread slice.


The Fourth, and final component in making the best sandwich is, packaging and wrapping. Packaging and wrapping are crucial to the longevity of a sandwiches life. With the right packaging a sandwich you made in the morning will be just as fresh when you go to eat it in the afternoon. First rule is if you plan to apply condiments like mayonnaise or avocados don’t wrap your sandwich in cellophane. Cellophane is the evil soggy sandwich maker. Cellophane can destroy a wonderful sandwich by mid morning. Try to avoid cellophane and sandwich bags. Wax paper is the best for wrapping sandwiches it helps your sandwich breath and keeps it fresh without the soggy mess. The second rule to a good pack and wrap is cover all areas, don’t leave any part of your sandwich exposed to the elements. Air can be a sandwiches worst enemy. Stale bread and crunchy dried out meat corners are sure to ruin and wonderful sandwich experience.


Needless to say I take my sandwiches very seriously and so should you. Don’t abuse this ideal creation of taste.



Remember to respect ... The sandwich.

Kamikaze Pedestrians

This morning on my way to work I encountered yet another kamikaze pedestrian. I swear this is some new craze taking the city by storm. It’s like sky diving or base jumping. There are 3 types of these road risk craving humans.

1. The “I'm too cool to pick up the pace”. These people meander across the street while the light is green not even at a crosswalk as cars speedily approach them. They don't even look at your car as you slow down to avoid hitting them. Sometimes they will even raise there hand slightly as if they have some supernatural power that will bring your car to a halting stop all the time not even acknowledging the person in shock behind the wheel. I understand you may not have some where to go, but maybe the person in the car is trying to get somewhere. Pick-up the pace, There is a car speeding tward you. Your life is at risk. This is not a time to dilly dally!

2. The “I needed to be on that side of the street so bad I will risk both our lives”. These People are worse in some ways because you never know when they are coming. They stand on one side of the street in a prepared to run stance and wait. Then all of a sudden they bolt out into the middle of the street trotting before your car. Sometimes they will even mouth the words "Sorry". Sorry, wouldn't fix your back if my reflexes weren't so quick enough to stop.

3. The “Street kid”. The street kid is usually found on side streets and allies but does venture to main roads on occasion. This specimen plays in the street without any regard for traffic. Usually any child’s game like tag or jump rope. You may need to avoid some routs completely because once they have taken over the street it is hard to get them to move. You could be sitting in your car all day waiting for them to mossy on out of you way. As they get older they are known as the “street thugs” they are usually boys. They still play in the streets but the games are no longer hopscotch and jump rope. As the age their interest turns to dice. And they only spill out onto the streets from the side walks taking up half of the road instead of the whole thing.


Now I ask them: “What makes you think I'm going to stop or even slow down for you? You don't know me. I could be some lunatic that is amused by vehicular man slaughter. Is this some new risk sport like bungee jumping? Are you getting off on the idea you might be killed by the grill of Hummer? If it is a sport how is it scored, and do I get points for hitting you? If so I will try harder next time.”

Confessions of a hair addict

To do my hair can take up to 3 hours. When I do it myself I don't sit all three hours I break it up in to sessions.


Session 1: Relaxer and wash about 45 min

Session 2: Blow-dry about 1hr.

Session 3: Flat iron and pin curl about 35min

Session 4: Take out pin curls and style 15 min


If and when I don't do my hair I look like a slob. My roommate on the other hand dose her hair in 10 min and even when she doesn’t it looks fine. She wakes up in the morning, shakes her head and runs a come through it. Needless to say I’m a little jealous

But what comforts me is knowing women have been burdening themselves with these torturous practices for centuries, and I’m not alone. I have been trying to make my hair straight all my life. I remember crying and not wanting to go to school as a child because my hair would frizz. I didn't and don't feel beautiful with out my hair done.

I have recently stopped relaxing my hair. The reason is because I had an awful experience. (I will tell you about it another time) But like any addict I can’t truly say I won’t relapse. And go back to my old ways. I have been clean since December, and will try my best to stay that way.

But my addiction started a long time ago something like this:

When I was in college I had a boyfriend who was Dominican. When his mother met me my hair was a mess. I had been struggled with it all my life. I could never get it to do anything except breads and pony tails even with a relaxer. My boy friends mother didn't speak much English but when she saw my hair I could tell she was appalled by the look on her face. Her hair was long and well kempt not a hair out of place. Mine was frizzy and wild popping out of ponytails every which way.

My boyfriend’s mother could tell I needed help. So she asked her daughter to take me to the salon with her. We went on a subway ride to a little corner salon. It was very small building but to my surprise when I walked in it was filled with women. There were Tons of women in various processes of hair torture. It was crowded, hard to move around and the hair dressers didn’t seem to ever take a break. It was like a well oiled machine.

My boyfriend’s sister told the woman in Spanish what needed to be done to my hair and the ride began. They plopped me down in the chair, sectioned my hair and began to apply the white cream. It burned a little but I was willing to take it if it was going to make my hair silky smooth. The aroma of rotting eggs lingered around my head. Soon it wasn’t burning a little it was burning a lot. I looked to the hair dresser who spoke no English but knew exactly what was on my mind by the look on my face, and rushed me to the sink to wash it out.
Ahhhhh…
The shampooing began. It seemed like they must have shampooed my hair 15 times. It felt nice, reliving. I was glad that it was almost over. But it was far from it.

“Deep condition” the shampoo girl said to me.
“Si” my boyfriend’s sister called out from the chair she sat in getting her own torture treatment.

A cream and a plastic cap were applied to my head and I was put under the dryer to wait. I didn’t know how much of an ordeal this was so I wasn’t prepared. No book, no portable video games, nothing but a Spanish soap opera on the T.V. in the far corner that I couldn’t hear over the blaring salsa music.

I sat and waited and at last I was taking back over to the sink to be rinsed.
“Yes, almost done” I thought.

Nope, honey, not even close.
A lady then took me to yet another chair and started rolling my hair. And then back under the dryer for some more soap opera and salsa music. This time it was for an hour. The day was passing by.

At last I was put into the final chair. She took out the rollers and I already felt the freedom. My head was lighter. A weight had been lifted. I could feel my hair bounce on my shoulders.

“Ouch, that hurt” I though as the hair dresser started to attack my head with a blow-dryer. She manhandled my head pushing it around to get to the hard to reach areas. Making sure ever strand was straight and flowing.

When she was done it was dark outside, but I no longer cared. I was beautiful. My hair was free flowing. I couldn’t stop shaking my head feeling my hair bounce from side to side. I was addicted I wanted my hair to look like this all the time. I never wanted to go back to those breads and ponytails they were so constricting.

I was free, but only temporarily. I would have to go back and get a wash and sets to keep it looking nice. Or try to wrap it at home.

But I'm willing to do what ever it takes because I’m hooked.

I haven't been relaxed since December but I still blow-dry and Pin curl.

7-11 Love

7-11 Oh, how I love the.
I fill my belly with your sodium filled tubes of cheese substance and mystery meat.
And quench my thirst with your chemical flavored neon colored frozen drinks.
Oh how I love you
The 7-11 clerk with the bad attitude and the red vest.
What is that? you just called me an asshole in Hindi on your Bluetooth.
I love you 7-11
How could I live with out your florescent lighting and sticky linoleum floor?
Your aroma of old coffee and rotating hotdog call to me in the night.
You are my booty call.
My undercover lover.
I know your bad for me but you just taste so damn good.

God bless America!

I have a small addiction to 7-11 Slurpees. My Favorite is Cherry, but I do like to try the novelty flavors they put out for promotions. The ones like God of war "Kratos Fury blackberry lime.” Not only did it taste delicious but it reminded me that I needed to run out and buy the game. (Don’t you love marketing?)

Whats wrong with me?

I keep hearing the same questions from woman of my age. They ask "what’s wrong with me?" They seem to be feeling like it’s there fault because the men they date are assholes. And maybe it is there fault. But I don't think they’re the only ones to blame. I think men just don't care about women. They don't have respect for women, and women of my generation seem afraid to ask for it. It seems like they feel like its asking for it is just too much. "He'll think I'm crazy if when he calls me I tell him to get lost because I haven't heard from him in 2 days." So they listen to his lame ass excuse. Unless you where in a fucking coma or lost your tongue. You better find a fucking way to get in touch with me.

I on the other hand leave at the first sign of no or little respect. I'm not sure if this works. But I honestly lose interest in a man if I feel like they aren't giving me enough. If a man doesn't live up to the expectations I have of him it's over. I don't want to talk about it. If you think we should talk you better be saying you’re sorry, because I don't care about your side of the story. I'm not unreasonable just realistic. I know myself and I need a lot of attention. If you don't talk to me for a few days I may be hanging out with someone else. Now this doesn't mean I'm sleeping with them, but it doesn’t mean that I won't later leave you for him. If I have to get my attention form some place else I will. No hard feelings it just didn't work out. If I don't feel like you are making an effort than I will stop putting an effort in. And it's over. No going back. I don't think we need to talk about it. What is there to talk about? How you miss me and love me. Well if you missed me so dame much you should have fuck'in called in the first place. If you had respect for me you wouldn't have acted in that manor and if you made a mistake than you should have apologized.

I have lost patience with men, and I'm fine on my own. If it's not love and I'm not feeling it I don't need it. Everything else is trouble.

Women, I don't know if there is anything wrong with us, but I do know that there is definitely something wrong with them.


Look Man, I'm a woman and your girlfriend. Not one of your buddies. Not your mom. Not your parole officer. Remember I don't have to do anything for you and I don't owe you anything. Every thing I do is out of the kindness of my heart and I can take it away at anytime. I will protect myself. You need to understand that and respect it. If you don't like it... well, fuck you there's more where you came from.

P.S. I'm really not a bitch. I just don't like to play games.

-JSW