The Reality of Relationships

"To cheat yourself out of love is the most terrible deception, an eternal loss for which there is no reparation" - Soren Kierkegard

In truth I have absolutely no idea who George Santayana is, however from what he said here I'd say the guy has a pretty good head on his shoulders. Here I am drinking some coffee and well, was supposed to be writing an investigative article due tomorrow but matters of the heart are the most important! Fact is, I am almost 100% sure that I'm going to fail that class so that explains my somewhat flagrant disregard. Back to the point, I believe love is one of the most important things in this entire world, and to find love, even if it's just once and even if it failed, to experience that REAL love is as close to flying through clouds as any of us mere humans could ever experience (unless you're rich enough to have your own G5 jet in which case you are right up there with love, adrenaline rush and the miracle of childbirth, good for you!). Fear of hurt, rejection and heartbreak should never act as deterrents when dealing with love. Throw it all in the wind and just say "fuck it." Trust in the I, love is profound.

And, on the flip side, it's also many other things. Like confusing. Yes, that's right, CONFUSING! There is no book, no absurdly superficial article in a woman's magazine advice column that explains love and clarifies everything for us. And the reason for that is that there is no explanation for love, nothing can justify it, all the adjectives can't precisely describe it, no movie can truly emulate it, and no one person can make it easy. Most of our time in the initial stages of a relationship is spent getting to know your "significant other", favourite colour, favourite movies, general dislikes, just the basics. 

Stage two presents more revealing information like their number of sexual partners, why their previous relationships didn't work, any issues with the family, etcetera etcetera. Now, beyond this point is where it gets complicated because somewhere along the way you have sex, you get all emotionally entangled in the other person, you start fighting, and now is when you feel the ever predominant emotion that is confusion.

They want this, but then again they don't want this and they just said that because they didn't want to express what they REALLY felt. They're breaking up with you then telling you how much they love you and making up with you. They start showing different sides of themselves that make you think twice about if this is the same person you got together with __ months ago. They suddenly have issues with things they never had issues with before and are thereby just stressing your ass out! They just fucking confuse you! I mean, this part makes you feel like saying, "this is some bullshit right here!" But of course you don't say that because now you're in so deep that there's no way you're going to give up just like that right? But how do you know when to stop trying? How do you really know when enough is enough or if you should just stick it out because hey, no one said it was easy.

I'll tell you how my friends. My sole purpose on this earth is to tell you this! NO ONE KNOWS! Everyone likes to act like they know and sound like they know, especially old people, don't talk to old people about this shit, because it's a general consensus that age equals wisdom but that doesn't stand true for every old fart on the planet. Not to mention the fact that love has evolved, yes the old crusties know the basics and that's enough most times but sometimes you need to dig a lot deeper than basic. Love will make you do things that you would've bet your bank account that you would never do. It's very much like being possessed, you have no idea what you're doing, the love demon has taken over all your controls. You're helpless.

This is not to say that everyone will find their one true love and there's someone for everyone and all that. That's just shit people say to keep you optimistic and hopefully decrease the suicide rate. The truth is, not everyone will experience this type of euphoria in their lifetime. But, on the bright side, that means that they can have sex with whatever random hot person (or close personal sex buddy) they choose! They don't have to commit to anything but life and their pet cat (which may also be interchanged for pussy or penis within the context of this sentence). Life is also very fun and fulfiling for them, trust me. I could grow old and alone and have a fun fucking time doing it, and everyone should keep that in mind. Don't make yourself miserable for something that wasn't even intended for everyone. That's like being bitter about not being born with blue eyes, everyone can't fucking have blue eyes. Deal with it.

Recently, my opinion on love has changed a lot. I never used to think about love. If it happens it happens, if I lose it it's fine, if I never get it I'm good. I still think like that for the most part. The difference is that now I've experienced the real deal and I have a lot more respect for people's emotions and for love itself. I also have a new admiration for the old couples that "made it" and are still in love. They make me kind of optimistic. Kind of. At the end of the day I realise that you have to make your own love, whether it's self-love (and yes by that I do mean masturbation) or love of another. The reality of relationships is that you get to choose your own reality by the decisions you make. Make good ones!

Your dose of contradictory optimistic realism,



The TRUTH Behind Global Warming

I was hit upside my head recently by the latest episode of one of my favourite shows, Chelsea Lately on the E! network. As it turns out, scientists are now saying that overweight people are greatly contributing to, and may be one of the main causes of global warming. The reason being that they eat more, hence increasing production, and they also drive more which is contributing to the amount of carbon monoxide in the air. I'm guessing that they also shit more, and fart more, maybe even throw up more depending on what they're eating...who knows? Meanwhile, fat people everywhere are going : "oh fuck..."

It's both hilarious and quite unfortunate that obese people are now on the chopping block for global warming. As if they don't face enough ridicule, now people are going to want to shoot them on sight for being "responsible" for the increasing death rate of polar bears and other animals that live in cold places that can't get around on ice caps anymore. Everytime someone walks by an obese person now they're going to be like, "Thanks a lot asshole!!!" (picture it...hahaha! i mean...tisk tisk tisk). Sigh.

Granted, those scientists actually do have a point with regards to the increase in production and the carbon monoxide but why not say it's because of someone else? Why not say, hey all you pageant delegates you're destroying our fucking environment with your hairspray bitches! Or blame all the club hopping celebrities who drive from place to place all in ONE night, why not also go so far as to say that the alcohol on their breath is contributing to...something. Hey, I'm no scientist ok.

So judging by this brand spanking new reason for global warming, the government's plan is apparently to get all the fat people to become even more depressed than most of them already are and make them all eat themselves to death so we can then go on with our lives in a global warming free way! Yes, let the conspiracy sink into your stomachs because we can't drive to get things to eat now, we'll contribute to global warming people! Forget the new environmentally friendly cars that run on corn oil and saliva and all natural things of that nature, fat people haven't heard about those, just the rest of us "normal" folks! It's baffling to me that these facts are revealed and then...that's it. There's nothing like, ok we realise that overweight persons are contributing greatly to the problems the WORLD is currently experiencing as a result of global warming so we're going to launch several free programs to help people deal with food addiction and encourage them to change their diets. Nooo. What? Taking actions like that? Absurd, absolutely out of the question.

The fact of the matter is that global warming is taking place now at such a drastic rate because we have all been idiots and didn't think it would happen so we threw things out the window, rolled around in CFCs, didn't recycle as often as we should and just generally didn't take the care of the environment into consideration in our day to day lives. That's it. So don't blame the fatties, they're people too...just bigger people with bigger needs that should be met goddammit!

These are just my thoughts for now, don't really have that much time today so take this as an appetizer and expect the main course soon like in a restaurant with bad service you have to wait 2 hours betwen meals, which will actually be...2days in this case.

Your other cause of global warming,




Tonight has to be one of the most difficult nights of my life, exaggerating a tad bit but still. I am now realising that as nice as it is to know that I have been able to demonstrate some serious self control over the last 2 years and do that well promoted thing called “abstaining”…this shit is HARD! I don’t know if it was solely triggered by Janet Jackson’s song “Discipline” off her new Discipline album which I replayed approximately 20 times because it is sooooo sexy, she’s just oozing sex all over the place check it out yourself and tell me if you don’t feel an immediate increase in your “drive” .

This is insane. Although I am usually all for the self service, I don’t even think that could cut it tonight, I think I just need to say some hard prayers. Maybe I should just go to church right now and jump in the holy water (totally risking the fact that I might vaporise due to my sinful thoughts). I’m trying to take deep breaths, do some exercising and release the tension (first time I’ve officially exercised in a WHILE too so yay for me), I ran around my house like twice too just to keep my mind occupied, the only thing I didn’t try was the cold shower because (a) I hate cold water and (b) I don’t think it would be an effective method anyway unless I’m drinking cold water while soaking in it (and by cold I mean deathly cold, you get my point?!). And since I have not published a note in such a long time (on account that I keep running into a block and I want the notes to flow) and my brain is now hitting a million miles per second on this topic…I HAD to write since the words were just flowing out of me (pun absolutely intended). So let’s do this, let’s talk about sex. I will want you to post responses on this for sure because I want some feedback on how you guys deal with sexual frustration of this magnitude. And listen, all you sex-havers, do not post up anything like “well I just call up my bf/gf and show them the scene,” because you will only make matters worse so be sensitive to my plight!

Let’s start from the beginning. Here I was just relaxing on a nice Monday evening, just took a nice bath relishing the hot water and my victoria’s secret body wash, towel dried, moisturised with some more victoria’s secret and threw on a t-shirt and as usual sat in front of the laptop with my legs crossed on my bed, my big mug of Indian chai tea nearby, had no class today so, I’m on the internet doing some research on random things to write about. Everything was normal. Then all of a sudden it occurs to me, “Ally what is this familiar feeling that you are feeling?” And yes, I do mean familiar, not because I’m celibate doesn’t mean I don’t “feel the urge” and things of that nature, on the contrary I feel it QUITE often. So I just kind of brushed it off because I felt too lazy to take another bath. Then as I’m watching a video on YouTube of B.Scott singing this “Discipline” song by Janet Jackson it occurs to me that the feeling is intensifying due to the nature of the song. So I click on the link because it was a just a snippet that B played and I wanted to listen to the song in its entirety.

Now people, the lyrics go like this: “I misbehaved, done some things I know I shouldn’t do. I touched myself, even though you told me not to. You commanded me to wait for you. Ooh I tried. But I can smell you on my sheets, taste you on my skin so vividly. Daddy, I disobeyed you. Now I want you to come punish me. I need some discipline tonight, I‘ve been very bad. Make me cry, daddy make me cry ooohhhhhh.” NOW TELL ME THIS! What?! How, just how, am I supposed to respond to that OTHER than to just feel like…mmm? Janet didn’t need to do that to me tonight, she didn’t, she’s very wrong for whispering those lyrics like that and tickling my fancy with that sexy grinding beat. God dammit! I feel so violated, like she just busted into my brain and turned the words into lyrics and sang it back to me. I need to pause and take a deep breath.

So yes, now that I have composed myself I will continue. So Janet Jackson dropped it on me hot and sweaty and I am now dealing with the aftermath. And I KNOW, I just know, this has happened to some of you already. I’m sure on many an occasion you have just been minding your own business and you would see an image, a video or hear a song that just makes you feel like you could call someone up and have some hot, sweaty, kissing, licking, nibbling, rhythmic grinding, moaning…you get the point. So ANYWAY! I’m getting a little sidetracked with the imagery (like wow), sometimes it doesn’t even have to be something you’ve seen or heard, it could just be a memory of someone, of something that they did, of something that they said, or something that you did WITH them. There is always someone that did that one thing that nobody else could ever quite master. And now, in some moment of silence, it slivers back into your mind and you savour the memory like the taste of fine wine. It happens to even the most restrained, most contained, most inactive of us all. Hence, my plight.

What I really would like to know is how do you deal with it? As someone who has decided to remain inactive until…whenever, how do you deal with this kind of situation? I’m not trying to be a super human and say that I could just turn it off, because I most certainly cannot, if only it were that simple and I could just play with a switch then I would (why did I just say play with a switch??). But in all the running around the house, exercising, dancing, singing folly that I did to try to shake it off, it is still all up on me. The tingle is tingling and the hormones are being overwhelmingly hormonal. And I know that I can’t do what I’m thinking about doing, or let me choose my words more carefully, won’t do what I’m thinking about doing. I know if I pick up my phone right now I will regret it before morning because it’s just a whole awkward situation. Those who know me know that I tend to live in my mind, so there will be a million things I would be thinking about doing and I would leave it as a thought because I’m a little punkish but STILL! RIGHT NOW, I think I would literally JUMP out the box and do everything and explore every avenue that I have ever wanted to sexually explore. Lord have mercy yes. I need some kind of…something other than what I’m thinking about.

So people, I want you to rock out with your cocks out and tell me what you do to curb the urge. I need some intervention.

Your horny as a dog in heat celibate freak,


Love and Marriage

The first thing that comes to mind is most likely the Frank Sinatra song, made popular by the “Married with Children” sitcom in the 90s for which it was the theme song. “Love and marriage, go together like a horse and carriage. This I tell you brother, you can't have one without the other.” The question is therefore, which one is doing all the work while the other rests behind and is carried along? Is love the horse or the carriage? Or is it that it's not at all like a horse and carriage but more so like a horse and its jockey with one constantly riding the other in the hopes of eventually achieving success? And who says you can't have one without the other anyway (besides Frankie)? Why can't a horse just be a horse grazing in the fields, eating grass and galloping off to some unknown destination? Poor horses...always being used in analogies for something else. Can't a horse just be a horse these days?! Sometimes I feel like marriage is a sham. All one big shenanigan conjured up by some bored elite of society back in the days before Joseph married a preggers Mary (Bet that was an event in itself. Kind of takes the fun out of it for Jo, “oh shit, she's knocked up already? I didn't even get to touch it yet! Thanks a lot oh Holy One!”). Sorry for diverging, so anyhoos, who said two people have to get married to live happily ever after? As a matter of fact (I think) statistics show that less and less of us are “crossing the finish line” anyway, which further emphasizes my point. What's the purpose of it all? Wedding bells, a cliché white dress for an impure “sexually active” female, a lame tux for the male, the same old vows read by the same old crusty priest, relatives you hardly see and people you don't know (who were probably dragged to the wedding against their will or just came for the free food), a big stupid “just married” sign on a car which only means that other drivers are going to blare their horns at you (thank goodness for my dear friend Motrin Rx) and not only that but you have to sign documents. Oh great. You have one form of work to do another. And how could I forget? The rice being thrown at you by the people you invited to this joyous occasion who are now practically pelting the stale hard rice at you like they're punishing you for either getting married, or making them sit through the whole process. Oh joy, here comes the bride! Which by the way has to be one of the most annoying, most overplayed, most SLAUGHTERED songs since it's fucking creation. I bet even the composer didn't even know what he was getting himself into otherwise he would've probably passed on it. And people have the audacity to make remixes! Shame on you! Maybe people do it for the bling. You get to flash around this gold ring on this odd finger of your left hand. If you think about it, more so for the woman, the ring is really how people gauge their approval of the marriage. The convo goes something like this: Newly engaged hopeful: “Tom proposed last night Suzy! And I said yes!” Shallow future wedding attendee: “Really! Let me see the ring!” *Newly engaged hopeful presents the odd finger of the left hand for inspection to the shallow future wedding attendee* For a barely visible diamond: “Oh that's good Jenny. Hope it goes well.” For a huge rock (that practically renders your finger immobile): “Oh how wonderful! When is the wedding Jen? He must really love you to give you a rock like that!” (let's all have a sad moment for the poor lover boy...ok that's enough) Disclaimer: For the protection of all involved, names have been changed. Sad, but true. Sigh. What has the world come to? A thought just came to me: Maybe the bigger the diamond the lower the chances are that the marriage is going to work out. Think about it before you write it off in your mind as pure folly. Ok, so back in the days your grandparents/great grandparents got married and the wedding ring had a diamond on it that looked like a speck of glitter more than anything else. Meanwhile, your parents are on the verge of collapse with a medium sized rock, and your brother bought his fiancé a huge fancy rock and they're divorced after 2 years. Boom. Right? Right? Ok, so maybe it is a nonsensical theory but it deserves some thought. Our grandparents/great grandparents have made it through wars, recessions, poverty and strife, widespread disease and numerous affairs and these days marriages can barely survive a fucking argument. Different time you say? People are more educated and independent and have an “i don't take no shit” attitude you say? Well I say bullshit. It's not about right and wrong choices, it's not like our predecessors had a heightened sense of judgment that skipped our generation. So I think we can safely rule out the fact that people choose more hastily because I know people who have “courted” for several years and then got married and it all fell to shit. So what is it then? Has the human race evolved into this impatient mass of self-serving individuals who are only aware of the general concept of love but have no real idea what it means? Food for thought...and now...i resign until next time. The hiatus is over. I'm back bitches. Stay tuned. Your future anti-cliché bride/wedding guest (for the food don't get it twisted), Allycat

Single and Unavailable

The myth is that once you’re single you’re free to run and frolic around and do whatever - and in some cases whoever- you want. But many people have never heard of being single and UNavailable, and when it is heard of they still can’t fully wrap their heads around the idea that a single person could not want to be in a relationship - or have some wild sexcapades all up and through their houses (or other people’s houses, or public places, or in cars, or…you get the point) or even an innocent suck face fling. Well, let me introduce you to the world of the single and unavailable. A world that I’ve been inhabiting for a few months now that I must say has been working out quite well.

In modern times, the under 25 crowd is considered to be carefree (which is the new word for loose, it‘s like an a.k.a.) and unattached and that is supposedly the accepted way of life for that age group; not ready to settle down because of a chronic fear of commitment and most of the girls are living by “girls just wanna have fun” and the guys just want to “make love in this club” and play with the fun bags of the most forthcoming female (and oh they are never scarce or hard to find). This is the age of the one night stands, grand slams, cinema darkness feel up, and back of the party finger fun flings. Not that I’m banishing them to hell or anything, life is one big test throughout which we all make individual choices and their choices are not mine to condemn.

But for me and the rest of the single and unavailable population, fun just entails a bit of partying here and there, some harmless flirting, a few drinks with friends and just scoping the guys from a safe distance because my curiosity never propels me to cross the room and engage in flirtatious conversation. Not really my thing. Not because of “stushness” or cowardice…ok maybe a little bit of cowardice, but more so because most times when I look at one guy, I can’t really tell him apart from any other guy. It’s like they’re all carbon copies, in the same shoes, and clothes, and hats, with the same “swagger” and the same attitude. Even the ones who try to be all “different” and mysterious are all the same because they’re all huddled up in a corner trying to look all indifferent and carefree and cool with their pretty boy dreads or their mohawks…different and mysterious my ass. So while they may be aesthetically pleasing (some of them only so under the influence of a few drinks and under the dim club lights) I am convinced that the majority of the time, when they open their mouth and begin to speak in their broken grammar “cool dude” lingo I’ll have the uncontrollable urge to make a U-turn and go home, curl up with a cup of tea on my bed and read a book.

Being single and unavailable also provides a lot of interesting experiences I must say. My friends always try to pimp me off to the sexiest available bachelor who is "so your type Ally!" which is odd considering I don't HAVE a type but I love them still because they always make me laugh to say the least. And people in general tend to act like you’re an alien or something, like they cannot possibly fathom why you would be single and just…single. They don’t get that you’re comfortable just being alive without having any man/woman to think about right now and leave well enough alone. But being the Curious George monkeys that we human beings are, everyone prefers to probe and try to squeeze out your answers to the most ridiculous questions like, “you have no reason to be alone, so why are you even single?” (yes and they do say “alone” like I’m living in a cave at the end of the world and my only contact with other living things is when I see bats and birds fleetingly fly by) and they make it seem like it’s insane to actually want to just CHILL and be a little introspective and spend some time by yourself, like our sole purpose on this earth is to spend every waking moment in a relationship or just with someone else in general. Honestly, sometimes I’m so tempted to give an outrageous answer and say something like “well the truth is, I’m not really from earth, I’m an extraterrestrial from planet F.OFF and if I were to mate with your human men their penises will grow to monstrous sizes and develop a mind of their own and take over the fucking world. Does that seem like a good enough reason?”… I am such a bitch at times. But that’s ok. It’s absolutely warranted.

I have also noted within my time of being in this single and unavailable phase that it’s only when you don’t really want to be in a relationship that people want you to be in relationships with them. And then the people who you would quite possibly sacrifice your status for don’t want anything to do with the relationship idea. The contradictions in life amuse me, quite often providing me with my daily kix. And I have also ever so acutely observed that people in relationships try to make us single people bear their miserable burden when they constantly bombard us with all their love woes. They go on and on… and on and you have to give advice on all these situations (that you have no personal experience with) and they always try to pass it off like “well what would YOU do?” But because I like to fancy myself as being a good friend (I’ve even been diagnosed with “mommy syndrome”) I give them the advice that I think is best and most of the time it’s from the heart but the rest of the time I’m thinking…“Well iiiiii wouldn’t do shit, that’s why I’m here and you’re there. DUH!”

I wish more people would look at being single as an opportunity to work on yourself and fix the things that damn well overdue for some fixing. Like if you know you’re a self-centred ass then don’t go running into a relationship making the other person’s life a living hell since it’s all about YOU…because guess what? You’re going to end up right back where you started. Yes being single is about having fun and keeping your options open and just seeing what’s the scene with the world of the opposite sex. But there’s fun, and then there are stupid things people do that they know are damn stupid but they do it anyway and then say it’s “fun.” Like having unprotected sex with a total stranger because they’re “hot” and busted some good wine and grind moves on you a mere few hours ago at the club, is dumb. It may seem fun at the time but that’s a prime example of the dumb (not to mention irresponsible) shit people do and call “fun.” Just make the best of being single and do what's best for you in the long run to make all this time of being single actually mean something when the dust and noise settles (so exerting all your stamina on strangers and maybes might not be such a good thing by the time you find the love of your life because you'll be tired as hell!)

Me, I’m totally okay not fucking the world and everyone in it and instead choosing to just distribute sexy moves in the club and then taking my sexless ass home and take a nice long bath and enjoy the hot water. Interpret that however you choose (but if you do interpret it how I would’ve interpreted it, NOTHING is wrong with self serviced pleasure. LOL!) Meanwhile, I’ll be here living and looking at the bats and birds fly by making sure that when my time comes to burden some single friend with my love woes that I’ll actually be a full individual who won’t drive my “significant other” to enroll themselves in a mental institute by the time it’s over. I’ll keep shopping around the malls and perhaps something good and worth investing in will pop up in between all the overpriced bullshit.

Your single and unavailable alien,


Memorabilia Music

I have been reflecting a lot recently on my failed clubbing extravaganzas that were intended to be a great night out with the crew listening to some good party music in the club and dancing the night away… yet, I find myself dwelling on how unfulfilling the experience was because I was bombarded with a barrage of Jamaican dancing instructions telling me to tek way mehself and to lift the weights over meh head and was left utterly confused as to the lyrical content of the song once the chorus was complete and the verses began.

It’s fun…for a time. Then it crosses the line from being a nice break away from slow conscious or soca to making me feel like I’ve entered some teleporting device (like back in the days of Star Trek, when it used to look TOTALLY lame and would be WAY more technologically advanced now) where I am suddenly in the streets of Kingston or Spanish Town in Jamaica. If I wanted to feel Jamaican, I would migrate. It was intriguing in the beginning to get a taste of the culture, but now I just tek weh mehself and wacky dip into the nearest damn seat waiting for the music to blow over and wishing I at least had a Vogue or Seventeen magazine to flip through in the meantime. I won‘t apologise to the fans of the genre, I’m just not big on the whole “passa passa” epidemic. I feel like I’ve already suffered an overdose.

I’m getting a little tired of taking orders, I already have a problem with authority in the real world, I don’t need Busy Signal or whoever the hell else to be dishing out instructions and orders as well. Granted, instructional music had been around for countless decades, back in the days of the humpty hump (rap fans will know), ‘Do the hustle’ and ‘Macarena’ (one of the most hilarious songs of all time) and people were like robots on the dance floor all doing the same dance at the same time…“Hey Macarena! Aye!”

But then again, what ever happened to just going to a party and just partying? No instructions necessary because partying requires none; just enter the club and dance your ass off and have a grand old time with your friends. Alcohol consumption isn’t even necessary to do that, music generates a natural high… well USED to generate a natural high, these days I find myself trying to generate my high before I even hit the club just in case they decide to play the shit that is currently carrying the label ‘Music.’

A lot of the time when I’m on the way to the party with my friends we would surf stations and see what’s playing on the radio to help us get hyped and would end up having to change stations so often that eventually I just zone out (I’m not sure if it’s ADHD or musical fatigue…my mind can‘t absorb ANY MORE!). I’m always the one who’s secretly most thrilled with the idea of partying the night away because I’ve been a stay at home kind of girl for the last few years and I’m now in social mode and I will most certainly fight for my right to party.

Fast forward to the actual party experience. First of all, DJs talk too much. I think that a lot of them are now confused with their job description, which is to play good music and keep the people dancing and happy. They’re now “larging up” this and that crew and talking shit over the music and I feel like I’m listening to a damn call in session on a radio station and I‘m kind of expecting people to walk to the DJ booth and take turns with the mic saying ludicrous stupid things like, “big up man like screw face! Ploi ploi!!!” And what’s worse is that I can’t even look forward to when they stop talking and actually fulfil their occupational duty and play some music because then the music is even MORE Jamaican dance instructions or worse yet some other absolute garbage telling girls to “fuck him in a crowd ‘cause your punanny proud.”

I think I’m going to open my own club, play some good music for a change and let people just come and have a good time and not feel like blowing their brains out when they hear another one of Movado’s digitally enhanced “gangsta for life” introductions or Machel Montano’s overdone “hee huhhh!!!” I can’t even satiate myself with the idea of them changing the tune of the music, because when they actually do change the genre it then advances from Jamaican dancing instructions to what I have so fondly labelled ‘bullshit mother effin rap.’ This consists of the most filth that I have ever heard like this song (that within the first 5 seconds of hearing I was immediately offended that they were even calling it hip hop); VIC featuring Soulja Boy’s new “hit song” ‘Get Silly.’*SIGH* Fuck! Excuse the French, but I have gotten to the end of my rope with the ‘bullshit mother effin rap.’ For those of you who’ve heard it, I’m guessing you can empathise (particularly if you remember the days of hip hop being something that was more of a daily dose of knowledge and reality than just a pack of ASSNESS with people talking about grills and rims and bitches and hoes and cars and houses…MO MONEY! MO MONEY! MO MONEY!)

I have been holding on to my memorabilia music for quite some time now, preferring to download than to listen to the radio in hopes of eventually hearing something worthwhile. I hold on to an mp3 player like it stores my memoirs because … well… it kind of does. Most of my life stories are wrapped up in music. There’s a genre for every phase, a song for every break up and make up, a tune for every significant person in my life and an artiste to represent every possible frame of mind that I can encompass. Music is like a series of digital recordings that I carry with me as souvenirs of my life experiences; the good, bad and the ugly.

If only I could get into the club with an mp3 player as a back up plan to leave with my earphones on and go sit in the car waiting on my friends and really have the time of my life totally destroying my eardrums… with GREAT music instead of polluting it with nonsensical lyrics over wicked beats. You ever asked yourself why a shit song almost ALWAYS has the best beat ever? It’s like a brainwashing…they give it a “bess” beat so that your excuse for listening to the song can be “this beat soooo sweet!” and then before you know it you’re singing right along and then calling it “catchy.” The way of the world, brainwashing takes place everyday and in any and every which way you can imagine.

I don’t want to have to look back on my life experiences and hear “I’m so crispy, I’m so crispy” playing as background music. According to the crack diva Whitney Houston, “hell to the no!” So in the meanwhile, as I’m waiting on the music industry to collapse and for the underground to rise to the surface, I’ll have my memorabilia music to keep me insane in a sane way and prevent me from randomly bombing the record labels responsible for the rubbish recycling. To the rest of my memorabilia music carriers…may the force be with us!

Your garbage rejecting underground music mole,


Phenominal Phobia

I am now a thorough bred germaphobe. I have recently seen a man casually pull down his pants and pee in the wind (yes, the wind, that is blowing his pee all over the place!) and then with an even more laissez-aller attitude than before he proceeds to pull up his pants and then take money from someone waiting nearby in a car (yes, they were just chillin waiting on him to finish his gone with the wind pee version act), then walks up to the door of a fast food place and opens it! Yes, with the aforementioned penis holding pee hands that were not washed or disinfected with hand sanitizer and now he’s blessing everyone else who touches the door with the golden glory that is his urine. Just observing that action I had to pull out my little bottle of Purell and console myself with the fact that THANK GOD, I wasn’t going in there. Just to think of how he’s going to strut in there and pay the cashier with his partially pee soaked money then touch all the condiment pumps with his penis juice fingers. Aaarrrgghhh! This isn’t even the first instance, I’m sure we’ve all witnessed something matching this degree of mind-blowing blood crawling germ spreading at least once. Like when u see someone sneeze into their hands with no tissue or kerchief and then you can’t help but wonder who’s the unfortunate individual who will unknowingly shake their hand within the next 5 minutes and then be contaminated with their bacteria. Not that I’m scornful, I just take the necessary precautions to ensure that if I (for whatever reason) decide to lick my fingers that I’m not then digesting someone else’s accumulation of oral bacteria...or better yet, their urine. I think germaphobia/mysophobia/bacterophobia (yes I did my research) has to be one of the most legit phobias out there. I mean, have you ever really paid close attention to the disgusting sanitation habits that people around us practice on a daily basis? Lately I constantly tote around a pack of antibacterial wipes and hand sanitizer, out of sheer fear of encountering germ infested individuals who are on a secret mission to infect me. And this is by no means me being obsessive compulsive…maybe a tad bit actually, but I’d like to think that it is absolutely and completely justified with the way people walk around digging in their nose holes like they’re expecting to discover a gold nugget and make a quick fortune, and the way vagrants (or the homeless…to be politically correct) just grab at you or bump into you whenever they feel like it. I remember my mom once collected a solid clout from a vagrant and when she was recounting the details of the story I couldn’t help but ask, “…Soooo, did u shampoo your hair mom? Because that’s thoroughly disgusting if you didn’t.” She had a good laugh at that but come to think of it…I never found out of she shampooed. Let’s hope she did, I mean God forbid that vagrant is crazy or totally bipolar like those monkeys in the zoo that always seem really normal and cute until they defecate and throw it in your face. Not so cute to have a monkey shit covered face I don’t think. Especially the monkeys at our very own lovely establishment, Emperor Valley Zoo, that look like they’re about to either die of starvation or go steering mad and start biting their way through the cages. I figure that this will be my form of socialization in a few months…at a germaphobe version of Alcoholics Anonymous, maybe called something like “Get A Grip Germaphobes” or “Mysophobia Maniacs”: Me: “Hi my name is Alicia and I’m a germaphobe.” Get A Grip Germaphobes/Mysophobia Maniacs attendees: “Hi Alicia!” Then I’ll start my long winded story of how I became a full time germaphobe and be comforted by all my fellow humans in need of de-sterilization… But that’s just the future, as of now, it’s still in the developing stages. I think it’s time we all evolve and become bacterially sophisticated; get some wipes and some hand sanitizer (removes 99.9% of germs…I don’t know what happened to the other .1% but it’s better than nothing!) to keep handy. You wouldn’t like to rub your eyes at some point in the day and feel a burning sensation and wonder, “hmm…I hope that’s not someone else’s saliva moisturizing my cornea.” Spit is probably not a good substitute for Visine. Let’s all do it like the Monk. Get down with the phenomenal phobia! Be careful not to get scornful though, I know it’s going to be a challenge because sometimes we can even disgust ourselves, but if it’s any consolation you can always contact me and we can actually found Get A Grip Germaphobes/Mysophobia Maniacs.  I’m open to suggestions for treatment as well. I wonder what treatment for that will be like? Maybe I’ll be shoved into a room of totally adorable toddlers…who all have the flu and are running around sneezing and coughing on each other and on the toys and shit! :-O… Or worse yet maybe they’ll put me in a room full of money AFTER they scanned all the bills and exposed the amount of germs on them because money is truly the most revolting bacteria transferring necessity to date! That is crazy to think about; I might really do some research on that and figure out what the REAL treatments are like. I sincerely apologise to anyone reading this that may really be a serious germaphobe and feel offended. My badness! Bottom line people, please stop being grotesque! Think of others when next you decide to walk out of the bathroom without washing your hands, which we ALL used to do back in the primary school days when our teachers had us scared to death of Cholera. Go back to the Cholera days, wash those hands and get some hand sanitizer, it’s approximately $10 for a little bottle of Purell that can absolutely fit in any size handbag and definitely in your pockets guys. Spread the word, not the germs! Your hand sanitizer abusing germaphobe, Allycat

My Forever Love...To You I Owe My Life

For those of you who think this is going to be about some sappy love scene...SIKE! No my dearies, I am going to talk about a love much greater than what I have felt for any other human being (outside of family and my family of friends)...my love of food. My favourite word these days is "YUM" and yes it has to be capitalised because then it would fully emphasize the heartfelt emotion that is expressed when I say "YUM!"

Food has been there for me through thick, thin and all in between (though I‘ve never been thick or really thin but have maintained more or less the same petite size since puberty hit with the exception of a few curves here and there, thank God for a high metabolism!). Even in those times when we have had falling outs and I have had to regurgitate because of some sickness or the other, food has never given up on me. Our bond is greater than anything else, held together by more than krazy glue, bonded tighter than that new thing they're advertising that sticks stuff (you know...that thing that looks like putty...or is it putty?) and it is woven into my every muscle and swimming through my blood stream.

Like me, food has many different textures and flavours, and also like me, food can be moody. One minute you make a recipe and it tastes so delectable that you damn near have an orgasm, the next time you make it you might barely reach anywhere near the climax stage because something tastes off. Don’t even dwell on my comparison to an orgasm, I am sure we have all experienced this at LEAST once, a bess cheesecake that made you feel like… “WOW!” and a full three course meal with an out of this world dessert that made you feel like “smoking a cig,” rocking back, and reminiscing on the marvellous craving quenching deliciousness that just took place.

Food has been the cause of many a sugar flavoured dream and a just as sweet awakening with an irresistible craving for it to caress my lips, linger on my tongue giving every taste bud the attention it deserves and slowly but surely ease its way down my throat into my ready and waiting stomach and then in a few hours…exit through my regretful asshole. Many a late night I have sat in front of the television sipping on Indian chai tea (my all time fav) and contemplating what I feel for next. Sometimes it’s things that are on the other side of the earth, sometimes it’s something in the already closed HiLo, sometimes it’s something in my cupboard, but most times it’s something that I wish I could snatch right up out of the damn TV. Like those advertisements with those succulent and seductively steaming meals that practically scream at you, “EAT ME…EAT ME!” Once again I most enthusiastically say, “YUM!”

My history with food began when I was a mere infant. I began refusing breast milk at the tender age of 3 months old, preferring to diversify and test the contents of the cute little Gerber bottles with the other cute baby on it, and sampling some mashed pumpkin, some green peas and a lot of carrots (kudos to mom for my 20/20 vision). In spite of this, the love affair only began on my first birthday when that chocolate cake with chocolate icing and colourful sprinkles was introduced to my mouth with a pleasantly hefty “Pleased to meet you.” From then on it was invited into every aspect of my life, a cake to celebrate good grades, a cake to celebrate growing an inch, a cake to celebrate another blessed cake filled day of life, savouring every bite with every breath and enjoying every chew with the same fervour that I enjoy every adventure. “YUM.”

From there it only got better, it’s like John Legend said, “Each day gets better, I just can’t let her go…Oh noooo.” Except that my version would be more like, “Each bite gets better, chewing you tender…oooooohhhhh.” I’m available for a record deal if you want to hear me sing it in real life, just so you know. Anyway I’m not trying to digress from my love here…as I was saying…I have written a short piece, as a pre-20th anniversary celebration of the love that food and I have shared throughout the years….

Food, oh food
You taste so gooooood

In my mind you are ever present,
Tickling my fancy with your pleasant…
Aroma (LOL, how yuh like that one?)
You lift my somber…
Oh food

I laud your flavour
Can I savour -
When I’m not hungry let not my lack of attention belie my love for you -
How do you do -
As I feast on you by candlelight…
And you briefly slip onto my lap and roll across my bounty
Before I gently wipe you up with a Bounty…
Food, my forever love
My blessing from the angel chefs above
Because we all know, God does eat a food too
But even He can’t see you like I do
Oh food…
Forgive me as to your tastiness I succumb

Now… in case I have any commandment referring, deadly sin crucifying, bible memorising super Christians reading this, let me assure you that this is not gluttony. This is just my taste buds expressing their appreciation to my heart which then expresses this to my brain which subsequently commands my fingers to commit it to text. That’s all that it is so please do not say prayers over my mouth and stomach to condemn their appreciation for the finer things in life, which may I remind you, God himself created. So there it is.

Even as I write this my love is whispering ever so sweetly in my ear, “What do feel for tonight Ally? Should I be sweet, spicy or mildly sour?” This kind of consideration for what I crave, I can find in no man, this is why food is and always will be my forever love and hold my heart hostage until I eventually die of totally natural causes…or high cholesterol.

Your lip smacking scrumptious food lover,

Hateration in La Femme Nation

This is without a doubt something I’ve wanted to write about for some time, but I wanted to take a little writing hiatus on account of exams. But anyhoo, my friends, particularly any females who may be reading this, I am dying to know why it is that women make themselves their own worst enemies! I fail to understand this whole competitive, back stabbing, “hating on her ass” nature that has truly become a norm amongst women, not just in Trinidad and Tobago but in the world.

Why is it that when a woman sees another woman walking down the street (and she just so happens to be gorgeous and looking really good) instead of saying, “Hey, you look really nice,” and probably making her day, they choose to contort their faces to all different degrees of “screw”? This baffles me. Ladies, I am sure we have ALL experienced this at some time or another and probably thought to ourselves, “What is her problem? Why does she have to give me that seething look like I just told her something about her mother?” Well…that’s what I think anyway (though mind you, if someone were to tell me anything about my mother I assure you they would receive much more than a seething stare in response).

Why all this hateration? Why can’t we just appreciate one another and for a damn change live together in perfect harmony? Okay I take that last line back, I still want to maintain my “realist” mentality throughout all of this. But seriously, how hard could it be to use the energy you would use to screw your face to instead compliment the person on their fabulousness? I have complimented other women on many an occasion, of course risking being looked at as a lesbian weirdo since it’s so RARE to receive a compliment from another female that it’s the primary assumption, but I will most certainly keep doing it anyway.

One of the reasons being that I think if someone looks good, they should at least be privy to a few nice words and some kind of commendation for their efforts. But the main reason being that there was this one time I did it, I will never forget, it was a Saturday in West Mall at a table in front of KFC (which was the only available table in the food court), and this lady walked past me and stood in the KFC line and she looked so ridiculously beautiful that I actually said, “wow.” And no, I am not gay, nor did I have a lesbian lapse, the woman was just one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen face to face (no PhotoShop involved) so I was taken aback to say the least. So I figured that instead of just sitting there gawking at her and wondering if she was some extraterrestrial mobile manikin of perfection, I would walk up to her and tell her that I thought she looked great, just as an FYI.

So I did, and she was so appreciative that she did the unexpected and turned into an off-loader (you know one of those people who you tell one thing and they start telling you about everything else that’s going on in their life…yeah. This proves no one is PERFECT). So she off-loaded a shit load on me and told me that she’s actually going through a difficult divorce and she was just at home moping around and wallowing in her sorrows then she just felt like dressing up and coming to the mall and that she was so glad to receive my compliment because it made her entire day better and that it was the first time anyone even spoke to her for the day. And yes, she even offered to buy me some KFC which I politely refused, not solely because I don’t eat it but more so because I wasn’t sure what else she might tell me about her broken marriage, God forbid sex issues were involved because I am certain she would’ve had no trouble at all divulging all the dirty details.

But my recollection of that event isn’t meant to be discouraging, just take the good details out of it. Main point is, she was ecstatic, and I was probably responsible for her first genuine smile for the day, and I felt good for her and I felt good for walking over to compliment her and making her day at least a little better with my contribution of words. This is something that women should practice more often. I mean shoot, some of us are bold enough to walk right up to a guy and tell him what we think of him off the bat, just rattle off some lines about how gorgeous he is, no restraints at all. So why not do it for a fellow female, minus the flirtatious tone and “sex eyes” and just say “hey, you‘re really pretty” or if she might not necessarily be that great in the looks department but she has on a hot outfit you can say “I love your shoes” or “that top looks great.” The compliment serves the same purpose, which is to make the woman feel like her efforts are appreciated not only by the leering eyes of men but holistically, by her fellow chicas as well.

Yes the ratio of men to women are like 1:3 or something like that, I’m not much for stats and it’s almost 6 in yet another one of my sleepless mornings so I’m not going to delve into any research, use this as an opportunity to educate yourselves, but does this necessarily equate to us women having animosity towards one another? As if that’s really going to help any of us, if we were all to get like that then more men would be gay because we’ll all just be a bunch of angry bitches starting a brand spanking new World War, la femme style. Stop this tomfoolery! It’s immature, nonsensical and quite frankly, not going to get us anywhere.

I must confess though, in some strange way I am actually fuelled by this hatred generated briefly as I walk past these stupid sad women and their screwed faces, it makes me embrace my inherent nonchalance and shows me that although I may be no female version of Albert Einstein, I‘m also not a mindless drone who resorts to unnecessary negativity either. Can’t we all just get along?! Listen to Mary, we don’t need “no hateration and holleration” okay. Get a grip on yourselves. Don’t hate - appreciate, congratulate and elevate yourselves above this childish…crap. No big words necessary, it’s just crap.

Your compliment distributing non-lesbo,


Love: Life's Greatest Unsolved Riddle

I’m sure the thought has plagued us all from time to time, the forever unanswerable question: “What is love?” I mean of course there’s the dictionary definition, the mutterings of people who think they know what it’s all about but just speak in circles of clichés and make you dizzy with the thought, and let’s not forget, the definition according to the novels and movies of the league of absurdly perfect and unreal romance. 

But what is it all about really? What is this insane emotion that defies all definition and also eludes reason? I have no idea. Just like the rest of us, I’m perplexed by the enigma that is love. I have tried time and time again to figure it out, and at times I feel that I have gotten close enough to grasp it, but like a country pigeon resting in the grass (I have to be specific because town pigeons real grimy and will not fly away but simply look at you like “what?”) it flees as soon as I get too close and flies away to its home of vast sky where no one can get to it unless it wishes it to be so. 

Since 11 o’clock last night to the present time I have been looking at movies, 3 different movies solely dedicated to love and its absurdity.  

After looking at the first one, a film called “2 Days In Paris” (which I have never heard of before I borrowed it last night from my aunt’s eclectic DVD collection) I felt a little despondent but yet amused because there was still a great deal of comedy in the film which I came to greatly appreciate after looking at the other 2. It was about a couple, together for 2 years, who live in New York (but the woman is originally from France) and decide to travel to Venice then make a quick stop in France to visit family and such. Everything was going absolutely swell until they started to run into her ex-boyfriends along the way and, I think, with just reason her bf starts to question her…let’s just say her chastity. Little by little it starts to erode, he sees her flirting more which drives him to read the text messages on her phone and low and behold he finds text messages from a man he met the previous night who she failed to mention was her ex…really sexually explicit shit. Like, wow. Needless to say he was crushed, heart broken, astonished by the revelation and whatever other fleeting emotions people may feel in that circumstance. So he brings it to her attention and she starts to say the usual that people say in movies, “you have to trust me, those messages mean nothing, we had something way before I met you, I love you and only you…etc., etc.” Of course I’m thinking the relationship is kaputz but in the usual fashion of fiction, they hash it out and all’s well that ends well. This was one example of love’s perseverance I guess. One thing that stayed with me was a line that she said winding down to the end of the show (before the miraculous make up) which was, “It always fascinates me how people go from loving you madly to nothing at all…nothing.” I was actually almost rendered speechless with the sheer truth of that simple sentence and, as I’m sure you can tell, I am RARELY rendered speechless. The only thing that came to my mind was, “Word.”  

My state of quasi happiness was surely ephemeral because the 2nd movie doused all hope I had of love being something repairable. It was yet another one that I’ve never heard of called “Flannel Pajamas.” Wonderful story…in the beginning. Isn’t that always the case even in reality? These two people set up on a blind date by their therapist (my initial reaction: “what the f*ck?!”) and fall in love and the skies are bluer and the flowers bloom in winter and all that’s great with imaginary love, and they have great sex over and over and OVER again (my brother actually thought I was watching porn, so imagine!). “I love you,” “I love her,” and “I love him” were the stars of the show as opposed to the actors. She’s financially struggling, he pays all her student loan debts, they move in together in an apartment that looks like the Ritz Carlton compared to her old apartment, he meets the fam, they get married. Life nice. She wants 3 children, he wants 1; they end up with none because she miscarried (after not even telling him she was preggers because he decided 2 years into the marriage that he didn‘t want kids after all). You’re thinking, “oh shit” right? Yeah I was too. It just starts rapidly sliding down the slope from there; couples therapy (a nice way to waste money before you actually have to shell out the dinero for the divorce), she moved out, he suddenly wanted children and suddenly loved her so much, but I understand that the heart is a delicate organ that can’t take too much strain so she was like “pshh!” and left him high and dry, rightly so. Then apparently he started hallucinating and imagining her next to him when she was probably on the other side of the city in actuality, he saw a man with his daughter and wife and started crying (in the middle of the street! Love apparently makes you immune to embarrassment), devastating to look at him I couldn’t hold back the tears. In the end, it was kaputz. What a tragedy, they started off as the quintessential madly in love couple. C’est la vie. By this point the depression started sinking in… 

The gears in my brain started to churn at rapid pace (which I seem to have no control over whatsoever) and I kept wondering, what really makes it work? What is it that you have to have to make it work? What does it take? Is endless love like a special gift only bestowed upon certain beings at conception like the gift of clairvoyance or insane genius? Where can everyone else procure this invisible glue that holds two people together in love and devotion until they part ways through death? Why is love never enough? Unadulterated, genuine, straight from the heart, the soul, the mind, the spirit, from every follicle on the scalp to the soles of the feet, bottomless love…is still not enough. Love never seems to be enough to keep it going. There’s some other secret ingredient that the universe is withholding to ensure that misery circulates throughout the world.  

The 3rd movie was the last straw. I think my heart just shut down after looking at “Becoming Jane.” Dreadful show, I won’t recommend it to any hopeless romantic who wishes to REMAIN a hopeless romantic. I’m sure most of you saw that one, it was quite popular. It was the most beautifully heartbreaking love story ever. It was kind of like a Romeo and Juliet except the only death involved was that of the heart, or the spirit…or both. Women in those times tried to marry into wealth because they were poor and Jane had a proposal from a stiff affluent guy around the way but she turned it down because she didn’t want to marry without affection. Little did she know, she didn’t even get to marry the man she was in love with. Jane’s lover boy had a rich uncle who was a judge and didn’t accept her because of her poverty and refused to consent to the marriage. So, as a result of love’s potent dose of irrationality...they decided to elope. Jane backed out at the last minute because she realised that his entire family was dependent on the allowance that his rich uncle gave him and that if they eloped the family will be in complete shambles. So they both went their separate ways, Jane decided to “live by her pen” and he decided to do whatever it is that he did. Fast forward a few years and Jane has some streaks of grey in the hair, looking distant, unmarried, and she’s at an opera gathering and who walks in but the love of her life…with his DAUGHTER who he named…(dum, dum, dum) JANE! Sigh. I felt her pain. Truly and deeply. It sucks, I could barely stop crying long enough to pay attention to the rest. It took 3 bounty tissues to bring me back to a fairly normal acceptable state minus the sniffles that make you sound like you have a speech impediment when you try to talk.  

It just goes to show that not everyone is going to live happily ever after with their one true love and soul mate. Most of us are just going to have to settle for someone who loves us enough to put up with our shit on a daily basis. That weakens my will power to even try. I mean Jane and what’s his name were like MADLY, DEEPLY in love ( and it WAS based on the true story that’s what makes it even more f*cked up!) and they didn’t even get to spend the rest of their lives together cloaked in that heartfelt bliss. What is left really? You could fall in love with someone and be sure that you're destined to be together but there's no guarantee that they won't just be a treasured memory in your old age while you spend the rest of your life looking at someone who you know you could never love as much... 

I really wonder...what's the point? Is it that we're all just going to have to live by the principle of "love who loves you"? Live life hoping for that love that keeps your heart beating strong and when that love goes away just kill yourself slowly by dwelling on the memory of what was and what you wish could be once again? There are only so many times you can recover from break-ups before you yourself are too broken up to go on loving. Life's greatest unsolved riddle... 

Your cynic disguised as a realist who's secretly an optimist, 


Rise of The Stupid People: WTF

I tried to think of a million different ways to start this, but I figure I should do it my way and just be frank. Where the hell did all these stupid rambling idiots parading the streets come from? Was there some secret society for imbeciles that I was unaware of and now they're rebelling and pouring out of their ant hill into the rest of the world? I hear people every day walking around SAYING things like "wtf" and "o-m-mega-g" and "lol" and my favourite of all "sigh"......yes, they SAY "sigh" because taking a deep breath and letting it out is exerting way to much energy that they can't afford to expend...now that requires a major "WTF?!" 

I don't know if people are really aware but the purpose of these acronyms is just to abridge the typing or writing process, particularly for text messaging when you want to save a few cents and not have the 1 message that you would like to send turn into 2 messages; and also for online conversations when you don't want to take too long to say what you have to say. But the point is that once you can actually SPEAK and have a face to face conversation then you're supposed to SAY the words and not just the acronyms. I would think that would be understood but oh no, it's not. It doesn't even sound right to the ear, that should be as clear an indicator as any that it shouldn't be said. Conversations among these mortal morons sound absolutely absurd.  

For example, I was in UWI last Thursday (not bashing UWI individuals by any means) and overheard these 3 girls talking. It went something like this (for REAL): 

Stupid girl #1: "Girl you believe that Jason with Alexandra now? Yes girl I heard that in the p.m. yesterday (because of course it's WAY too much effort to say," yesterday evening") and I was like wtf. My jaw almost dropped to the floor and Zina was like rotfl but irdk (I really don't know) what he was thinking she's so ug (the "ly" is too much to add on apparently)." 

Stupid girl #2: "Nfw! (which I gather means no fucking way,I'm guessing..ENGLISH is more my lingo) And he's so hot! Omg I'm so pissed. I really wanted to F him, but maybe I can still do it anyway. Lol (yes,she SAID "Lol" without even really laughing I might add), that would be bad right?"  

Stupid girl #3: "Duh Jen, you'll be such a badess like Samantha, omg btw I heard she had sex in the bathroom with Brandon in the a.m. (it became a trend) before Math class. I was like o-m-mega-g Sam don't be such a ho." 

End of...um...conversation? 

Now...tell me...is it wrong for my faith in mankind to be dwindling day by day with this severe corruption of the english language taking place? Am I to think that when I conceive a child in 10 years that my mini-being will not be able to speak english but will instead be saying things like "mom wtf komdnt!"...Notice the only thing you were able to understand was "mom what the fuck", the rest meant "knock on my door next time"...I predict that by then EVERYTHING will be turned into an acronym or abbreviation of some sort to the point where it may as well be another language altogether. Maybe that's the point, maybe they're trying to entirely obliterate the english language... 

I can't wrap my head around this apparent phenomenon. I think it could quite possibly be the highest form of idiocy to take place within our generation if it is allowed to continue. I think from this point on if I hear anyone speaking like that my resolve might just wither away and I'll walk up to them and smack them across the face and say, "Oh behave!" Everyone could use a good brain shaker-upper every now and again and I'll just be more than happy to provide my services. I think I'm just paying my debt to society by reviving the brains of my fellow citizens.."It's for the good of the world," is what I'll tell myself while I'm growing some cajones and gathering the gusto to smack them all. 

I feel like the way they profane the validity of the english language hits me way below the belt because english is my absolute favourite thing in the world and to hear the employees of Retards Inc. treat it like something insignificant instead of something that we've all been learning since birth (or before, depends on what you believe) irks me. No, irk seems sweet compared to how I feel. 

And if by chance (or by some divine intervention) you are one of these aforementioned individuals then consider yourself SMACKED. And I will in no way, shape or form retract my statements regarding your stupidity, just stop while you're ahead of the game and become aware of the annoyance you represent. STOP. Stop saying "sigh" and just sigh already! Stop saying "lol" and just laugh like a regular person and not like what some extreterrestrial (whose knowledge of human communication is based strictly on lingo collected from msn and aol) would sound like. 

You're human. Be human. Speak english. Get smart. Stop the bullshit. Use your brain to better the world, not dumb it down. Don't make me smack you upside your head and rearrange your brain cells. And I would just like to say, thank you in advance for stopping this retarded revolution. Stay true to grammar. Blessings and salutations :-) 

P.S.: Who vex loss. Punto final. 

Your thesaurus-hugging grammar lover,