Grey Eyed Lady -- 24/7 Ianthe

I have no resolutions :-/

Help?

Why do supermarkets make the sick walk all the way to the back of the store to get their prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front?

Why do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a diet coke?

Why do banks leave vault doors open and then chain the pens to the counters?

Why do we leave cars worth thousands of dollars in our driveways and put our useless junk in the garage?

EVER WONDER… Why the sun lightens our hair, but darkens our skin?

Why can’t women put on mascara with their mouth closed?

Why don’t you ever see the headline ‘Psychic Wins Lottery’?

Why is ‘abbreviated’ such a long word?

Why is it that doctors and attorneys call what they do ‘practice’?

Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavoring, and dish washing liquid made with real lemons?

Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?

Why is the time of day with the slowest traffic called rush hour?

Why isn’t there mouse-flavored cat food?

Why didn’t Noah swat those two mosquitoes?

Why do they sterilize the needle for lethal injections?

You know that indestructible black box that is used on airplanes? Why don’t they make the whole plane out of that stuff?

Why don’t sheep shrink when it rains?

Why are they called apartments when they are all stuck together?

If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport the terminal?

I was surfing the inter waves and came across this blog post by a lady named Murphy. 

Blog name: PTSDlove

Post title: Tell Me I’m Beautiful

Problem: Men.

This is a post to all those women out there who are under appreciated by the man they are with, who aren’t reminded just how beautiful they are and who are crying inside because the one they love doesn’t see just how beautiful they are.

Ladies, you are beautiful. Both inside and out.

I could very easily say, you don’t need a man to tell you that, but we all know that’s bullshit. Every woman (and men too) want to feel appreciated and wanted by their partner, so men, once in a while when the situation warrants it, say it.

Just tell your girlfriend, fiance, wife, grandma even! That she is beautiful. It doesn’t cost you anything to take a second look and see something amazing standing in front of you.

If that didn’t convince you to do it then maybe this will - if you don’t do it and someone else does, you are going to find yourself waking up to an empty bed, a can of beans for breakfast and having to do your own laundry.

Just saying :)

A blog post from november 2009

…and he will find me. Even if it takes him 21 years… he will… and me, I wouldn’t have changed at all. Hope springs eternal - the hope that I’ll probably just be the same me and just be worse off in my head… and that I’ll make him remember… 21 years from now… everything horrible he was too. My thoughts choke up in my throat just because I’m torn… Change is inevitable… something I heard during my Media Studies lecture today… something I’ve heard many times before. And up until maybe a few months back… the gravity of it’s truth never really hit me before. Change comes around so fast that it knocks you on your ass and you don’t know what hit you, till its too late. I wanna hide from the change. Because, I hate change. Especially change that affects me like this. Maybe being this way… letting happiness encompass me… is a waste of time. Maybe… And maybe M was right… happiness isn’t the best shade on me and I fully intend on letting the happiness die, faster than slowly.

Its been more than 3 years now and I can’t imagine where this girl has gone…

The passion for emotion and I realize, I was right… 3 years ago I warned myself that change was inevitable and that I wouldn’t know it hit me. Until this very moment, I hadn’t noticed. Maybe subconsciously, I did do what I said in that post and let the happiness die.

For the life of me, I can’t think of one thing that makes me truly happy. Just at the thought of it.

Note to self: must fix.

Has this ever happened to you?
You world very horde on a paper for English clash
And then get a very glow raid (like a D or even a D =)
and all because you are the world’s liverwurst spoiler.
Proofreading your peppers is a matter of the utmost impotence.

This is a problem that affects manly, manly students.
I myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term
that my English teacher in my sophomoric year,
Mrs. Myth, said I would never get into a good colleague.
And that’s all I wanted, just to get into a good colleague.
And that’s all I wanted, just to get into a good colleague.
Not just anal community colleague,
because I wouldn’t be happy at anal community colleague.
I needed a place that would offer me intellectual simulation,
I really need to be challenged, challenged dentally.
I know this makes me sound like a stereo,
but I really wanted to go to an ivory legal colleague.
So I needed to improvement
or gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jail, or Prison
(in Prison, New Jersey).

So I got myself a spell checker
and figured I was on Sleazy Street.

But there are several missed aches
that a spell chukker can’t can’t catch catch.
For instant, if you accidentally leave a word
your spell exchequer won’t put it in you.
And God for billing purposes only
you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling
your spell Chekhov might replace a word
with one you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because what do want it to douche?
It only does what you tell it to douche.
You’re the one with your hand on the mouth going clit, clit, clit.
It just goes to show you have embargo
one careless clit of the mouth can be.

Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint.
The teacher read my entire paper on a Sale of Two Titties
out loud to all my assmates.
I’m not joking, I’m totally cereal.
It was the most humidifying experience of my life,
being laughed at pubically.

So do yourself a flavour and follow these Pisces of advice:
One: There is prostitute for careful editing.
And three: When it come to proofreading, the red penis your friend.