Shoo Fuck.with.er!!! Dont bother me!

Fuckwith-er: (pronounced fuck- with-her) (noun);

A species of human which hurtles through life corrupting everything around him or her at break neck speed.

Typically a fuckwith-er can be identified by a debilitating "me" complex, similar to that of a terrible-two-year old, whose brain is not yet developed enough to fully grasp the broad concept of human interaction.

A fuckwith-er doesn’t appear overly dramatic to the untrained eye, but their obsession with themselves creates a similar fallout to that of a comet entering the earth’s atmosphere, burning everything it rubs up against.

Watching this species in its natural habitat can be most fascinating, as long as you’re not the person getting burned.

The fuckwith-er regularly confuses himself with a smooth operator. This confusion is heightened in direct proportion to the amount of drinks consumed, and it’s this aspect of his behaviour that is most entertaining to an observer.

In his mind he is a stealth manipulator, manoeuvring through a crowd with Clooney-esk charm and affability. Bystanders watch in awe, slack jawed, basking in the glow of his sheer brilliance. If you are an experienced and cautious enough observer, you may be lucky enough to catch him on a bathroom break, high-fiving himself in the mirror.

A fuckwith-er is blissfully unaware that, in reality, he is giving his spectators a sensation similar to what it feels like when watching an amateur magician lighting his own hair on fire during the pyrotechnical portion of his gig: a mixture of horror (‘cause of the hair burning part) and guilt (for wanting to laugh at this soon to be disfigured fellow).

I am lucky enough to be very close with one member of this rare species. For many years, my weekends have consisted of watching him fuck with anything and everything he can get his hands on.

Sometimes the motivation for his fuckwittage is clear: he is trying to get laid. But, more often than not, the motivation is buried so deep in his psyche that even he has no idea why he is acting so recklessly.

Back in February, my lil fuckwith-er screwed up SO badly, I was forced to quarantine him. I felt like a new puppy owner doling out my first dose of tough love, reminding myself that he needed to experience what it feels like to suffer the consequences of actions taken.

This past Saturday night I was feeling overly forgiving and decided I was going to see if this two-month absence from my life had any effect.

This little experiment proved only one thing: fuckwith-ers are hardwired to fuck with you for life.

Sure enough the evening started off fine, but by last call he had started so many fires among friends, acquaintances, and fellow bar patrons that the level of damage was almost impressive.

I waited for him to finish off with the classic closing scene: a traditional brawl with the bouncers... but thankfully this was narrowly avoided as he sailed into the night with his latest conquest (a friend whom I had begged him not to hit on.)

You see, once a fuckwith-er's targets have been set, all reason and judgement fades into a blurry mess of white noise resulting in severe tunnel- vision. Their field of sight is so restricted that they are barely even able to make out what their end-goal is. They just have this undeniable urge to disturb the shit and can’t rest until they can declare a job well done.

Still feeling the after effects of this weekend by hump-day has pushed me to design a new experiment for myself in which I weed out anyone or thing that makes shit worse instead of better...

Straight forward? Simple?

A pilgrimage, if you will, toward a mystical drama- free land... which more than likely does not exist.

I don’t wanna go all totalitarian dictator on everyone here, but I am declaring personal war on this kind of folk...

Shit, call it an official apartheid for all I care.

My life is now an F.F.Z. (fuckwith-er free zone) and I invite you all to join me and to swallow my propaganda whole.

Slow Day

So cliché to write about boys. But if writing is a release of what is stuck on my mind then so be it to death.

Someone recently said of me that I am the type of girl who, when the guy meets me, he’ll know right then and there.

I think the implication was that when it comes to me, you have to be all in or all out.

It sounds limiting but at the same time… I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I have a big personality, and no desire to take it down…even a notch. So I fully understand and support a love it or hate it approach to me.

That’s how I have always pictured it happening for me. Instant.

Boy walks in, opens his mouth, says the most intelligent/hilarious/coolest shit you have ever heard…I retaliate with something smarter/funnier/cooler .
We then fall in love, get married, have kids, get old and die together. Without even an ounce of hard work put in between the two us. Easy. Breezy. Lazy

My biggest fear is falling victim to the trap.

The trap being: a boy liking you being enough of a reason to like him back.

I used to think of myself as someone who could make it work with anyone.

However, announcing this little introspection at a recent dinner with my nearest and dearest was met with uproarious opposition. A “you’re delusional” quip even got dropped.

I thought this way because at one point in time, I was making it work with “anyone.” And this self-reflection was something I was almost proud of.

At dinner one night, I sat across from “anyone” while he droned on about operating budgets, failing to notice my eyes glazing over, and I literally thought to myself “I can make it work with anyone. I’m a real catch!!”

Anyone rarely made me laugh and I don’t recall him ever saying anything remarkable. He was a nice enough guy, but when it came down to it the only thing interesting to me was that he was interested in me.

Being interested in someone interested in me caused dependencies to form, habits to be confused with genuine feelings and in the end my heart got a beating over something mediocre.

Clichés abound here but Im going to throw in another. I am in a really good place right now, and I don’t want it compromised with subpar fuckwittage and unnecessary drama.

So yes, my demand for fireworks, supernovas, earth shattering encounters, are of prima donna-esk proportions. But im hoping it will keep me out of the trap.


Meeting that dude that makes all the bullshit worth the effort has yet to happen for me in the first 25 years of my life, but I’ve got a good feeling about the next 25.

Stay tuned for the inevitable, "I met this guy, and I guess he is sorta cute, and a lil bit funny, but I am sure that he is the ONE" blog.

Lowering Expectations

On this particularly drowsy Friday afternoon, I have evidently taken my crafty procrastination tactics to a new level.

I have lots of work to do, and I love doing the work that I do...But I suffer from a mild (maybe even moderate?) deficiency in the focusing-on-the-task-at-hand department.

Plus there's this window just beyond my computer monitor, and it regularly tempts me away from the above mentioned, beloved job.

Windows always get me.

This particular window frames the lives of crackheads.

On the other side of the glass pane is a vandalized alleyway filled with worn down crackheads, sitting on empty twofour boxes, talking shit

Sidebar: my office is adjacent to a Beer Store. This, for the most part, is a positive thing but given the area it can also be a negative thing-5:15 pm on a Friday, cold 6er of Corona in hand, then a severely inebriated bum asks me if he can get in front of me in the cash line because he's going to "piss my God dam pants"-kind of kills the TGIF buzz.

What's happening on the other side of the window is never really the issue. Just something I stare at until it blurs out of focus and the ramblings of my brain takeover.

The purpose of this blog is to bring the ramblings of my brain to a new platform.
So bear with me folks as I try to determine if there is any worth to the ungovernable stream of consciousness that goes on inside my head.*


*this post originally contained this single line:
I promise never to drink and blog.