By Far 2011 Will Be The Longest Post…of The Day

I started the year out with these doozies:

A personalized necklace from my mom and a personalized t-shirt from Ching. My family is hilarious:

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Then a visit to Memphis for a new baby:

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I wrote a poem:

The Replacement

His hands are smoother than sandpaper
His voice is not grumpy nor hoarse
He doesn’t sweat hard work and scotch
His smile is not nearly as forced

He listens to my stories and
He laughs at all my puns
He doesn’t spend all day gaming
I don’t think he thinks it’s fun

He realizes that gravity
Recognizes that I exist
And he’s not as quick tempered
He really rarely shows his fists

And it took only a second
To notice all of this
And another second to tell him
He will surely be missed

My subconscious started talking to me in my sleep:

“Vivid dream: This guy (from a TV show I don’t know the name off because I don’t really watch it) and we’re like used to be dating trying to be friends. His girlfriend is a singer, something. He’s trying to hang out with both of us, and she is irritating the shit out of me. And I’m hanging out poolside with him, his girlfriend, and his family. And he starts asking me about programming. I’m not sure what kind of programming (Daddy used to do my homework when I tried to be Comp Sci) but somehow I told him “first you have to declare your variables”. Then he says, and by God this is verbatum “You’re an assertive girl, you get what you want because you assert yourself. You’re also provocative when you want to be. But you are masquerading at half of your potential. Why are you living at half when you can be living at your fullest potential?” I woke up with that. I woke up and wrote it down.

My subconscious is right. And I think I know what I have to do. Wow, this is way too much this early in the morning, but thanks Subconscious/Guy-in-TV-show-I-don’t-watch.

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*My subconscious manifested in the form of Tom Cavanagh. My subconscious must be borderline douchey.

I started searching for Vikings:

““It is impossible to assign the various Viking groups at all precisely to places of origin. But broadly speaking, adventurers from the coast of Norway raid the north of England and continue round the Scottish coast to Ireland. Vikings from the same region later settle in the Scottish islands, Iceland and parts of Ireland.”History of the Vikings

I wrote another poem:

The Biggest Burden

There’s a remnant of your smile that’s still stamped inside my brain
Oh the loving that you caused has bled through my chest and caused a stain
Holding hands and making love, no you weren’t the one to blame
That I fell so fast

This distance between you and I isn’t that far at all
I see myself beside you just as soon as you decide to call
This back and forth and indecision isn’t much to overcome
Because I fell so fast

Loving something I cannot hold, cherishing memories I can’t express
I give you the tools to break my heart and wish you all the best
I walk away knowing all I have is this walking mess
Because I fell so fast

I wrote a genius blog, now being recreated for posterity:

Make Your Wrinkly Dollar Bills Crispy Again – The Long Way About March 19, 2011

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First you start with St Patty’s day, where you swear to be done with the night by 10pm. So you marathon drink, and on key, start getting hazy at 10pm. You feel like a winner in bed by 10:30pm and not to mention you’ve just drunk dialed someone you probably should not have and then texted them to “Fuck yourself!” Brilliant.

You have some semi-lucid dream about drinking pepsi the next night but wake up feeling like last night was last week so you disregard your dream, which was probably a warning.

You hit the town, still too early for anything, so you get a couple beers in while playing MegaTouch, and not winning. You go to your friends show, already buzzed and insist on shots immediately. Shot after shot, and one bad decision after another, you leave right when your friend takes the stage but not after you’ve made an obnoxious ass of yourself. Be clear, this is an important step. Thanks.

Oh, all the while you are unclear to how much cash you have in your pocket, but it is in your pocket.

Get home. Get sick. And jump in the shower with your clothes still on. Because not only do you have to wash yourself, you’ve decided in your drunkeness that you will at the same time, wash your clothes. Your money is still in your pocket, which you realize after you take your jeans off so you can dry off. You are still not winning.

Take the money out, lay them by the sink, and forget about them until 5pm the next day when you are still mildly hungover, but convinced recovered enough to make another night of it.

Epic fail! But you did make your wrinkly dollar bills crispy again. Congratulations!

P.S. Jumping in the shower and dinner with the ladies sans alcoholic beverages. This time we do it right.

I turned half-blonde:

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And another poem:

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I still know your name
I remember each word you spoke
But I look at your smile in the picture and know
You’re only a memory now

I think back on the days
You held me close and promised to never let go
I try to feel some regret
But you’re only a memory now

Yes it’s been a long road
To not thinking of you everyday
But now and then for a moment I feel it
That you’re only a memory now

I got baptized…again:

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Found an old poem while cleaning:

Timbuktu

I get to work everyday
Before the sun even rises
Flooded with the monotony
Of doing everyone else’s taxes
After 9 hours, I get my butt to school
With no time to spare
To be a lovestruck fool

But when there’s idle time
I go to Timbuktu
I get a bit of quiet
And start thinking about you
In Timbuktu where time stands still
And all my inhibitions
Dissolve with my will
In Timbuktu sober moments are few
And I find myself, somehow, missing you

My planner is filled
From yesterday to next year
With my well intentions
All dreams I hold dear
My plans to go places
That you’ve never been
And see all the landmarks
You’ve never seen

But when there’s idle time
I go to Timbuktu
I get a bit of quiet
And start thinking about you
In Timbuktu where time stands still
And all my inhibitions
Dissolve with my will
In Timbuktu sober moments are few
And I find myself, somehow, missing you

And for the picture bombardment, I went home:

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Another genius blog post I had to salvage:

THIS is the reality of dating from my point of view… September 13, 2011

Ladies gather at the watering hole and compare credentials. “yes, I’m well rounded, I speak many languages.””I’m a kind hearted intellectual.””I have a strong sense of individuality.”

Then a knight approaches from the horizon. “Quick, with the Stupidity Camouflage. Don’t scare this…wha? Did you just put on an upgraded even more stupid Stupidity Camo?””Sorry, I’m getting desperate.””No worries, I’ll get the next one.”

Then finally a catch. And once home, you find that you did not bring home a knight, instead you caught a man-whore donning a Chivalry Cloak. “Touche!”

And like every other year a birthday tattoo:

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And I still sat and blogged:

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