Rambings of a broken…aww fuck it.

February 16, 2013 by thingumm

I often wonder if I am prone to abusive relationships. That’s all I’ve ever learned, really; that to love is to abuse. To love is to ignore. To love is to hate.

Maybe one day I will actually travel to the moon and find a resting place beside my cold heart. That way, I can figure out what it means to really to care about someone. But alas, by then it would be too late. My soul would have already been sucked away from my body, and I will be left on the dark side of the moon to die. That is irony at it’s finest.

But the important thing is that I would have found a home, in those last few seconds of my life. When the pressure is collapsing my lungs I would be happy that I have found a place that is all mine. Silence will be so piercing that my eardrums will burst and I would dance until my body explodes from the excitement. I would be free.

For now I feel trapped in this droning reality that goes on until I die. I suppose somewhere out in the Universe there is another one of me that learned the proper way to love someone. I bet she often travels to the sun.

I hope she burns.

Summer

February 3, 2013 by thingumm

There is a season called summer that I live for.
No slow and sullen mirage of snow
that freezes the center of my heart.

This is a Season where
the sun is high and often the sky
traps the feeling of love and the smell of morning dew
This is a season where
there are throngs that will sing songs
about the feeling of love that I saved for only you

No poisonous beauty,
And no frozen death;
No watching the trees throw down leaves as they wept;
I watch over time
and wait for the sun
as my heart starts to bloom and the moon starts to run;

Waiting for throngs that will start to sing songs
Of you and the morning dew.

This is season that I live for.

The List. I enjoy the chase so I'll let you know we're coming for you.

January 27, 2013 by thingumm

Reblogged from This is Insanity:

Hello, my name is Amanda and I am a mobsters daughter.

Like I said in my last post, I am not a bad a*s and I do not claim to be one. But I do have bad a*s friends.

That's new to you isnt't it. I know, I don't like my business in the streets. In related news, people out in the world trying to die.

A Bitch’s Guide to get into Heaven

January 26, 2013 by thingumm

Hello there. I understand your problem. You are a bitch, and that’s OKAY.

I assume that you have stopped on this post to figure out how you can get into heaven. Well it is your lucky day, for I have devised a practically fool-proof plan that will make you seem like a better person! Here’s How:

1. Be Fake.

Yes, I know that this sounds horrible, but when you act as if you care, people will actually believe you care. Smile. Pretend you are a warm, inviting person, ready to take care of someone when they are down. And when people ask you to do something meaningful for them, you suddenly become very busy. Here’s and Example:

Your Pathetic Friend: [crying]

You: [notices, tries to walk away] *BONUS TIP: try to avoid situations that will test how much you actually care.*

Your Pathetic Friend: [looks up] Letitia!

You: oh…I didn’t see you there. What’s wrong darling? *BONUS TIP: always use empty adjectives when talking to people; you will seem nicer.*

Your Pathetic Friend: [still crying, between sobs:] My dog died.

You:(is she serious?) oh…I’m sorry to hear that. [pats on her back awkwardly]

Your Pathetic Friend: Yea. [still sobbing, bawls] I loved him! I loved him! Now there will be an empty spot in my bed each night!

You: (Bitch you need a penis. Sitting here crying over a damn dog.) Oh….. [nods] *BONUS TIP: Always nod, it makes it seem like you are listening.*

Your Pathetic Friend: Yes…I just really need you right now.

You: ( um, FUCK that.) Sweetheart, I you know I would, but I can’t. I promised my grandfather that I would visit him today. I have to feed and wash him…you know how that is. I’ll call you later, ok? *BONUS TIP: When lying on relatives, try to use ones that are already dead. That way, when the person asks about it, you can say that they died the day you went to visit. I know. Brilliant.*

2. Be passive-aggressive.

Don’t like someone? Don’t kill them, make them go insane. I know; it sounds hard and exhausting, but it really is quite easy. You do this by planting little seeds that shatters their self confidence little by little. The end result? A person that harbors as much self-loathing as you have for them. This is the only way you can harm them without getting yourself into trouble with the law. With this technique though, you have to pretend as if you do not hate them, and this goes back to #1, be fake. Only then you can plant seeds like this:

Person Who is Unaware of your Hatred: Hey girl.

You: (why is she talking?) Hi. [pretends as if you are busy] *again with the BONUS TIP of avoiding situations that test how much you care.*

Person Who is unaware of your Hatred: I was just down by the hairdresser. You like? [turns her head from side to side so you can get full view]

You: (This bitch always thirsty for compliments.) Oh yes! I Love it! It makes your forehead seem smaller.

Person Who is unaware of your Hatred: My forehead is that big? Really?

You: (KML!) Well…it’s just so shiny. Maybe if your skin was less oily, people will hardly notice it. I use this apricot scrub to wash my skin, do you want to have it? *BONUS TIP: after every sly insult, offer a solution, so that it seems like you are a good friend.*

Person Who is unaware of your Hatred: Thanks, you are such a good friend. [covers forehead and walks away]

3. Act as if you are innocent

This one is actually a bit more difficult. It requires stealth and ninja- like qualities if you have a problem with staying away from bad situations. You have to do your dirty work with other bad bitches that don’t want their secrets out either, and finding these type of people is pretty hard. And lying is involved; A great deal of lying. Here’s some of my favorites:

“Hookah? What’s a hookah?”

“I don’t really like how alcohol tastes.”

“You want me to do what? I would NEVER!!!!”

“Weed makes my stomach turn.”

“I’ve never been drunk. Tipsy, at best.”

“I’m trying to stay celibate.”

And my all- time favorite: “I’ve never done this before!”

Trust me, with my direction, you will have everyone believing you are a regular Mother Theresa. Oh, and about getting into heaven? If these tricks can’t fool God, than you and I are in some deep shit.

What to do with Golden Cups

November 17, 2012 by thingumm

“You see this cup?”

“Yea, what about it?”

“Pretty neat, huh?”

“I s’pose, if you like golden cups.”

Darrell tipped the edge of it with his forefinger.

“Where you fine it?”

“In da dirt somewhere.”

“Who is hide cups in dirt?”

“Ine know.”

Both boys stared at the gleaming metal.

“Well I tink it real nice. Shame someone gone leave it dere.”

“I guess.”

“What you tink I should do with it?”

Marcel shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, drink outta it?”

Darrell looked up. “Hmm…” he said. “What you is drink outta golden cups?”

Marcel just stared.

“You cyann drink any ol’ ting outta golden cups.”

“Yea.”

Both boys stared for a while, pondering.

“You could drink wine outta it.” Marcel finally said.

“You does drink wine outta glass cups. Not gold.”

“I suppose.”

“We ain’ gat no fancy wine in our house anyways.”

“True.”

The boys were silent again.

“You ca’ put money in it.”

“Cyann put regular monies in no gold container!”

“Well you gat any idea? I see you ain’ say nuttin yet!”

“I tinkin!”

“Yea, yea.”

“We ain’ gat no monies anyways.”

“Yea.”

The boys just stated at the golden cup, wondering.

“Wat you is do wit golden cups?”

Darrel let it slip out of his hands and let it fall on the ground between them, burying it in the dirt.

“Nuttin. It worthless.”

List of Rules That Will Help You Survive… (Well, Nothing Really.)

October 6, 2012 by thingumm

Rule # 1. Always wear a seatbelt when riding with Tasha. She speeds like a Maniac. [Originally, this was Rule # 4, but it has been promoted after a series of almost- accidents.]

Rule # 2. Miss Higgins, your lecturer, will always be half an hour late, because hair appointments are slightly more important than Shakespeare.

Rule # 3. When leaving your home, watch out for giant snakes, monsters, and dinosaurs. Apparently little children see them around all the time.

Rule # 4. Any Essay for Bahamian Literature will always suck balls.

Rule # 5. When dealing with issues of love, try to direct your affections toward someone who doesn’t smoke weed.

Rule # 6. Always call your eye doctor before you show up to try on your new contacts. Unlike regular doctors, he might not be in his office because he had spent the previous night parting like it is still 1987 and he doesn’t have a job to attend to in the morning.

Rule # 7. Always assume that they sell meatballs in triplets at the Hilton.

Rule # 8. Always remember where you parked your car.

Rule # 9. This particular weekend, you will never finish the series of 7-page essays you have due the following week. It just won’t happen.

Rule # 10. Cupcakes make good bribes.

Rule # 11. Never look handsome individuals directly in the eyes. You will be sucked into a never ending vortex of sexual tension.

Rule # 12. Ignore your project group members this weekend. They are all idiots.

Rule # 13. When your father offers to let you drive his truck, he is obviously joking. Do not be offended when he laughs at you when you get excited.

Rule # 14. Pay attention when the Universe gives you signs about love.

Rule # 15. Plot the death of the entire Psychology class so that you can get away with not doing the project due. You know, instead of actually working on the project.

Rule # 16. Avoid guys who often ask you to like their pictures on facebook and often mistake your sarcasm for flirtation. These animals are dangerous to your mental health.

Rule # 17. When falling, always try to land on your feet. You will seem more ninja – like.

Rule # 18. At bars, ignorant servers will often ask you if you are legal even though it is evident that you drove there via car keys in your friend’s right hand. Do not forget your ID.

Rule # 19. Always wear a push – up bra, In case you still forget your ID.

Rule # 20. Make sure to have a male server.

Rule # 21. Plan a master Heist. Gather sticks, stones and cans of pepper spray. Hire a little Spanish boy to be your point man and call him Rico.

Rule # 22. Try not to suck dick; your throat will be sore for the rest of the night. Slap him away and scream, “I’m better than this!” …I know, this is a hard one.

Rule # 23. Rain will always come down when you want to relax outside. Be sure to forget to pack an umbrella and run around squawking in the wet like an idiot.

Rule # 24. Always clip your fingers after a Jazz performance as if they just recited poetry.

Rule # 25. Write poetry.

Rule # 26. If convinced to participate in Rule #22, be a lady. Swallow.

Rule # 27. Always be home at the time you told the Chinese Mafia you will be. Never be late when dealing with John Chea’s Children. They will leave more than 20 messages on your answering machine and restrict your access of free eggrolls.

Rule # 28. Spend your free time writing long, unnecessary lists instead of actually completing any of the copious amounts of assignments that you have yet to do. You can further ensure your homework crash by watching “Swoozie” videos on YouTube and commenting on 3 – year old facebook pictures like a stalker.

My First Memory

September 26, 2012 by thingumm

I am a good swimmer. I used to be better, though – I think that if I had trained more I could have won races, and compete in tournaments. Once. So naturally, beaches are my favorite places to be. My first memory is actually of the beach, I must have been at least three or four, I guess. My parents would take me and my sister to the beaches in our underwear (we didn’t own bathing suits then) and my father would always carry us out into the water to teach us to swim. My sister always cried. A sharp, piercing scream would escape her, and I would always laugh, splashing her, making her scream some more. And she did, and I would laugh so hard that my chest would ache, and I would fall backward into the cold, icy water. Then I was surrounded, and once I was under, I would allow the water to swallow me. Swallow me until my skin would prickle along my spine, and on all my toes, and though my arms, and I would open my eyes and see all the thin hairs along my arms stand completely on end, the tide swaying them back and forth. As first, it was always like swimming in a glacier. Then, as the water sank into me, and as I sunk down, down, and completely immerse in it, I would grow warmer, and relax into the new world around me. And I always wondered would it was like to live there. Underwater. It seems so much more peaceful and beautiful than obnoxious, harsh reality. The colors would swirl and melt into one as I swam, the green seaweed curling along my legs, the golden sand swirling in clouds all around me. Schools of shiny silver fishes would hide in the rocks as I swam by. I would always extend my arm and try to catch one of them before they disappeared into the pink, hard, pillars. But they would always escape me, and slip right through my fingers, ticking me. But before I can chase them, a big, black, hand would pull me up into the noisy, ugly, world again. Suddenly I was out, wet and cold and uncomfortable. The sand in between my toes felt foreign, and my t- shirt and undies felt too heavy for my body. The only things I enjoyed after coming out the water was the salt and the sun – the taste of my lips as I rubbed my tongue across them, and the heat of the sun as it warmed my skin all over again.

Well… this is Awkward.