Work it, Work it, Work it all for Nothing.

How many people can say that they have careers where they feel that they put in a lot of work for a result that's satisfying? I always wonder that.

I don't. I sure as shit don't.

Money isn't the result I want.
Obviously, it's a result I need, considering I have a job in the first place.

But I want to create something.

I don't do that now. Oh hell no.

I create this bubbling angst that makes me want to clock people in the face daily.

That's about it.

I'm heading towards a path where that will be the case, but in the meantime, hell no.

I'm not big on money. I don't feel like I need to live in luxury to enjoy my life.

As long as I live in the way I want to, with enough money to survive, that's all I can ask for.

I want to have that career where I work my fucking ass off, and in the end I have something beautiful to call my own.

Music? If I could play any kind of instrument, yes. For sure.

Unfortunately, I'm about as capable of a kid with no limbs  is for running a marathon.

I'm a musical moron.

All I can do is listen and appreciate the wonderful audial diarrhea that others shit out.

I'm okay with that, too. Kind of.

I lied, I'm not. I want to play an instrument.

But I digress.


My mind has derailed again. Fuck.

I tend to do that often. I get bored of my point halfway through, or I forget it and move on to something else. It's not such a great time.
It makes for terrible story times.

Terrible story times.

My poor future children. They're going to fucking loathe bedtime because mommy couldn't be fucked to finish the story.

What happened to the princess? I don't fucking know. Learn to read, you shit. READ.

In the end of the day, I just work it.

Work it, work it, work it all for nothing.

Suck it, Bell.

My internet has been all over the place for the last couple of months.

Working, then not.

Working quickly. Slowing down... Slowing... Not working.

Then eventually, it just stopped working.

After about a week of it not working, I called my service provider. Bell.

I found out I need a telephone line to have my internet work.

I haven't had my phone line for... two years now?

I don't need it. I have a cell phone. Why would I waste money on a phone bill that I don't often use? I wouldn't. So of course, I'm curious about why I need a phone line now, when I've had working internet for two years.

Well, I need a dummy line, dummy.

But wait, the question still stands, doesn't that mean you've had the dummy line for the two years it worked?
Apparently not.

I'm not sure the sense behind the whole thing, but the gist was, I was being fed a nice steamy plate of bullshit, and was expected to eat it. No thanks, Bell. No thanks.

So that happens. I call in, and they tell me some bullshit about this dry-loop and all that bullshit.
So whatever. I agree to have the technician come in and jizz all over my router.

They send me a new router, and I wait for him to come. I wait. He doesn't.
Dumbass showed up to the wrong address. So I'm frustrated. I hook up the router myself.

HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH. My internet works. I needed a technician to do something a monkey could -and did- do? Well, fuck that!

So I don't call back, I don't reschedule tech-boy coming in.

Give me three weeks to thoroughly enjoy this internet, and then, whoops! No internet!

Now, Bell has some bullshit page up, telling me I need to sign in to access my own internet.

What the actual fuck? 
Why do I need a password for my internet? I don't know my username and password!

Ring--ring. Hi Bell. What the fuck? What's up? I want my internet, thanks. (I may not have said exactly this.)

Well. We'll send in a technician

Will this ensure my internet? When can he come in?

Monday. 

Alright, well, I'll be waiting, then.

And I wanted to wait. But when I noticed that I was connected to the internet, I didn't understand.
They must have certain ports blocked, is what my final thought was.

So after a while of searching, I found that I could bypass this bullshit.. and here I am guys.

Yeah.

Fuck you, Bell. You can suck my big hairy dick. I'll grow it for ya.
And I'll be sure to imagine telling your technician that, tomorrow.

I won't actually say it. Because I'm a pussy.

I'll just imagine it.

Fuck you Bell.

Suck it.

Dealing with Assholes Daily

Anyone who works any kind of job knows one simple fact. People are shitty.

In every 10 people, there is one worth any kind of effort.

The other nine are just some special kind of ass.

The kind you'd give your left arm for to smack. With your left arm.

I'm curious though, how are people so shitty? When did it become the standard for people to suck more balls than I do? That's a lot of balls, folks. A lot of balls.

Big balls.

Hefty balls.

You get the picture.

I propose that we all just stop being shitty to eachother. Don't you think that would be so much better?

I mean, it doesn't take a lot to be even just decent to someone, but apparently that small human effort is too much for most of society.

Who else here people-watches?

Don't lie to me. I know you do. Everyone does.

How many people judge based on their observations?

Don't lie. I fucking know you do. You're in this shitty boat with me, don't try to deny it.

Anyway, back to the very vague point, that at this point I'm struggling to remember.

Right. People suck.

I think that's about all I was saying, actually. I can't really remember where I was going with it..

I hate having to deal with assholes daily.

Creating a Career out of Nothing

I like photography.

I also like music.

They're both equal passions.

Goddamn.

You surely see my dilemma here. My career, it's one or the other! How do I pick both?

I wake up with photography, and I fall asleep to music.

What do I do?

Well, my friend, I've decided to invent my vey own bullshit career.

I'll be a music photojournalist.

Whore myself out to some band who wants their pictures taken at live events, or in general.

Fuck yeah, girl.

I've got this down to a fine art now.

The one thing school taught me, is how to bullshit. I was able to bullshit my way through so many essays, you would have thought I was a mother fucking professional in every field available.

If you're nice, I'll teach you my fine art of bullshitting. Because that's what it is. An art so fine, you couldn't detect it in the best of stool samples, as the shit pours out of your mouth.

You could drop trou, take a dump in the middle of the floor, and everyone around you would think that you just exploded roses out of your asshole. Luscious red petals and that heavy, musky rosey smell.
No, sir, that's not shit. That's roses. That's right. I shit roses.

Don't fight it. Let the bullshit take you over. Don't fight it. Embrace it. Use it to your advantage, dude! Do you know the shit you can milk out of a talent so fine?

A lot. That's what.

So what's the moral of today's story?

I'm creating a career out of nothing.

Lean back, Drink to a stupor, and Smoke your problems into a deeper grave.

Everyone's heard it by now.

 Rob Ford smoked crack.

We all kind of knew it already, the way he reacted when the whole debacle first aired it's smelly ass.

Now we've just opened the proverbial diaper and realised, it wasn't a fart.

Oh no, my friends.

That was a shart.

He tried to will it away, to convince us otherwise that it wasn't.

We knew. We all knew.

Everybody can smell a shit pile of that magnitude.

Everybody.

The question now, is what's gonna happen?

I find this interesting to think of. Because I don't know.

I don't see a resignation in sight, and I can see him being re-elected.

Why? Why would he be re-elected?

Well simple. The people who are for Rob Ford will unite in voting him back in, wherein the people who are against him will be split votes between however many opposing parties there are.

That's where the problem lies.

I don't really care either way, to be honest. I don't plan on staying here for much longer, so I'll be here as a silent observer.

The problems I see with the city are at a level where it's no longer municipal. But Federal.

It's hard to solve these problems.

As it is most deeply-rooted problems.

Hell, who knows, maybe he has the right idea!

When you've pissed everyone off to the extent that everyone is calling for your resignation, maybe the only thing to do is lean back, drink yourself into a stupor, and smoke your problems into a deeper grave.

Maybe that's something worth a try...


... Or not.

Lip Service

Plastic surgery. It's a big topic, and a controversial one at that.

Personally, I see no problem.

Want fake tits? Go get 'em girly.

Want that ass shrunk with a complex vacuum? Get 'er done.

Some things I may not necessarily do, some things I may.

I know I'll be getting my tits hiked right on back up to my chest when they've sagged down to my knees.

Why not? I don't want my tits to be used as brooms, so I'll use the wonderful modern technology to save that.

Lately, I've been thinking along the lines of lips. I've got a little bit of lip, but not the level I like.

I like that plump, lovely look.

You know the kind.

The dick-sucking kind. Not too big, not too small. A nice middle ground.

So I've started my Lippy Fund.

Fifteen bucks so far, not a bad start.

I look forward to seeing how quickly I can accumulate enough to get this done.

Obviously, my starter won't be a permanent endeavour. Something I can eliminate if it ends up looking like some fucked up nightmare on my face.

So here's to my Lippy Fund, shall it grow strong and plump this holiday season!

- Monday, November 4th, 2013

Duck, Duck, Sucker.

I'm normally not a bitch.

I promise. I come across as so, but I really do have a suckers heart.

I keep relationships I should sabotage on the pure basis that I well up with guilt.

Fucking sucker.

In this case, I'm a raging bitch.

The kind that men hate, conniving little shit.

You really can't blame me though, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do homeskillet.

So let's begin this story months ago, as I lie topless on a table, arm covering my tits, shameless.

I'm getting a tattoo in this scene. My first, to be exact.

My tattoo artist.. Picture a guy my age, but mentally aged 16. Hormones ablaze, while my friend and I sit there as he inks my half naked body.

I'd always thought it would end there. Some playful banter back and forth, tattoo's done, up I get, fuck off and never hear of it again.

Yes, what a dreamy scene. Too bad that's not how it went down.

Fast forward a week or so after the fact. Enter a flirtatious message on the Book of Faces.

"Need me to oil up that tatt?"

No. Sweet mother of God, no.

This isn't happening. You were supposed to fuck off when all was said and done.

Fast forward some back-and-forth flirtatious banter that leads to nothing, and enter a poor guy with big, heavy blue balls.

After weeks of teasing leading to nothing, I slink off into my slutty domain, finding more fitting and silent bangable gents.

So I'm surprised to receive a message of greeting from this particular tattoo artist.

I'm hard at work when I receive this message, so a quick glance,  and then back to work for me.

This is apparently unacceptable. By the end of my shift, I'm blocked.

Sure. This is what I've been going for from the start. Great!

Great.

Life is peachy until tonight.

"Hey there, what's up!"

Fuck. Fuck.
Clearly someone's horny. I've been unblocked after other vaginal sources have been exhausted.
Normally, that's okay with me. A quick fuck'n'flee isn't a bad thing, ever. But in this case, I'm uninterested.

Like a cat, I've battered the mouse around until it's no longer a new toy. I've lost interest.

Until I hear my friend's genius plan.

"You want another tattoo, don't you?"

"Well yeah."

"So do I. And didn't he give this to you on the cheap?"

"Yes. Yes he did my dear, dear Einstein-esque friend."

"Well, hang him on your wire, get those tattoos on the cheap, and completely fuck off."

I love my friends. They've got the same fucked up thought patterns as I.

Let's do it.

Lock and load, motherfucker.

-Sunday, November 3rd, 2013

I could tell you numerous stories of the dumb shit I've done in my life.

Honestly, it's surprising I haven't died somewhere along the train-wreck that is my life's tale.
It's like the little train that thought it could. Then derailed and went in the complete opposite fucking direction because that just seemed much more interesting.

I'm not sure being so is a good thing, or a bad thing.

Whatever. It's my thing. Impulsivity and recklessness. Does anyone want to join me? Make it a tea party for two.

There's something about taking the mundane path, the one that has been tread so many times it's now a finely paved road for that fat family in their SUV, with their spoilt, rude kids driving to Disneyland. It makes me want to just pop a squat, take a heaving shit on that road, and then walk off into the direction of the shiniest and prettiest things, glittering in my Attention Deficit Disorderly face.

"Why would I ever do such a thing?" You may ask, sitting reading this article you happened to stumble upon.
Or, you know. Not.
Well. Why? Because why the fuck not.

If you're going to do things in a vulgar fashion, you might as well do it in the most vulgar fashion possible. Why do anything half-assed?

So, after sitting here for about fifteen minutes, sucking on some shitty leftover Hallowe'en lollies, watching a movie in the background, whilst typing some utter textual diarrhea in the foreground, I've forgotten the premise of this post.

I'd read back and get back on track, but fuck that. The level of fucks that I do not give is quite vast.

-Saturday, November 2nd, 2013

The Six Reasons You Need To Get On Track Now

   There's always tomorrow to get something started, or always something seemingly of the utmost importance in your way of getting things started today. Maybe it's because it's not yet Monday. Maybe it's because that show you want to watch is just so damn tempting.
Whatever your reasoning is, there'll always be a thousand more reasons why you can't do whatever it is you want to do.

1) Procrastinating is like a drug. The more you do it, the harder it is to stop.
How many times have you set to do something, and you thought "oh, tomorrow." Come tomorrow, you choose the next day. And then the next, until days turn to months, and months to years.
Think of it this way, procrastination is a habit. And the longer you have to form a habit, the longer it will take to break that same habit. It's much like weight loss. It's much easier to gain than it is to lose.
This is exactly why you need to start now. Don't wait until tomorrow. You know as well as I do that if you wait until tomorrow, that will become the next day. Then the next. No matter what it is that you want to do, you can do it now. If it's eating right, put down the doughnut, the pop, whatever it is in your hand, and pick up a glass of water. Start now.
 If it's educating yourself, turn off the television, pick up a book, search online for a topic of interest, and read.

2) The sooner you get started, the sooner it will become a reality

 Just think, if you start now, you finish sooner. One whole day sooner. Start now, and you're one day closer to whatever it is you're working towards. One extra chapter read in that book, one day ahead on that research, one assignment done, one day healthier.
Now who doesn't want their goal achieved sooner?

3) Someone else might take your spot

If what you're looking for is a place at a concert, a place in university, maybe even a place at the gym, someone else might take that spot from you. This is why you need to get it done as soon as you can. If your goal involves a head-count, or a certain amount of people, you could lose that if you don't get started right now. Do you really want Joe Buttfucker to have that promotion you want? No, I didn't think so.

4) You said you would, so why not?

Like I said at the beginning of this article, guaranteed you said that you would get things started yesterday. Somehow, something came up yesterday and you couldn't get it started, so now you said you'd do it today. Now, the chances are something has come up again, and yet again, you're going to start on your goal tomorrow. Well, here I am, to hold you to your word of yesterday. You said you'd do it, SO DO IT!

5) You want to.

Obviously, you're reading my article. That tells me more than I need to know about your current situation. I've done it before too. So many times. I look for the slightest reason to tell me to start, compare the pros and cons of it, and choose the one that's collected the most pros. You've come to my site in search for that extra pro or con, reading why you think you should start, and why you think you shouldn't. Well I'm here to tell you that you should. Simple as that.
Which brings me to number six.
You should get started because

6) You just fucking should.

Come on. Cut the bullshit. There are absolutely NO cons to starting now! Get your shit together, and get it done!



- Friday, November 1st, 2013

When it comes to picking education, people like to strike fear into you about picking the right path, that it's a waste of money if you don't.
Personally, I don't really feel that it is. In reality, is it ever a waste of money to get educated? Even if it's not something you want to do as a career, it is something that interested you at some point, to want to go into studying it.

It's never really too late to find what your passion is. As corny as that might sound, take it from someone who's taken years off from education, just to decide what I want more.
Some people may not see me as making a smart move in doing that, but really, I do think it was the best decision I've ever made. My head is much clearer, and after some dead-end jobs, it's lit the fire under my ass to get the education required to do the job that I want to do.

How many people can say that, going straight into post-secondary education?
Live your life and have fun with it, people. If you don't like the route you picked at first, fuck, go back and take the different one. It's not going to end you.

-Wednesday, October 30th, 2013

Got the iPhone 5S today.
Pretty cool features, a nice upgrade from the 4S.

That's just about all I've got to say.

-Thursday, October 24th, 2013

Anyone watch VSauce? It's a great YouTube channel that is basically scientific explanations for interesting questions, like "How Much Does The Internet Weigh?" as well as discussing some compelling topics like missing people, the science of names, and other such things.

I watched one of their videos about our slice of time in the whole Earth's timeline. Man, we're nothing.
Everything that has had to happen to get us where we are, technologically and in evolutionary terms, it's amazing. We really are nothing when it comes to the grand scheme of things.

If anything, that just makes me want to make an impact on this world that will last.
A good one. I wonder if that's even possible in our modern times?

-Tuesday, October 22nd. 2013

I feel like in a world of vastly large amounts of bullshit, it's about time some people tried to shed some light where light's needed.
I'm hoping I can be one of these people. There's so much I want to do in life, so much to learn, so why not just join me in all my successes and failures? As the name says, I'm quite unfiltered. I like to speak what's on my mind, so I figure this is a great place to do so.

I likely won't be a daily blogger, but hell, I'll try. Anything that grasps my attention is definitely a topic I'll happily discuss.

- Monday, October 21st 2013