A bad - at best - metaphor to my life...

I've been twenty-two for one third of a year and that is terrifying to me. I've done nothing substantial, I'm doing nothing substantial, and I have nothing substantial. The most frightening part is that I don't know how to change it. It's like I've gotten off at the wrong exit. It's like my cruise control is stuck on and keeps rolling me unavoidably forward. It's like my steering wheel is locked and is forcing me in an unwanted direction. I feel like I'm waiting to completely run out of gas or break down so that I can hope for someone to save me. And that, that's a terrible way to feel.

Maybe I'm exhausted? It's awfully hard to fall asleep as of late and damn near impossible to wake up. The unfortunate bags under my eyes are darkening and becoming more obnoxious. I'm slipping at the only thing I've ever been "good" at due to a serious case of apathy. Being good at school is no more than mediocre, though, and nothing to be all too proud of.

I need a new car.

Alright, Miss Lonely....

Last night began with the man at the liquor store saying to Eric and myself, "Aren't you guys glad that you're regulars?!" Is that really something to be glad about? Being a local at an alcohol store? Well, define "glad". Then, Eric and I went to a play entitled Sex a.k.a. Weiners and Boobs. It was pretty funny and worth braving the bitter, frigid cold that damn near caused frost bite leading to loss of phalanges/limb. Upon return to Melwood, a small crew had gathered. Enter mass amounts of drinks (SHOTS) and giggles. It was the most fun I've had here in a while. It was a good thing. It made me realize how much I really do enjoy my buds. Eric and I ended the night with serious heart to hearts under a mountain of blankets. However, I might be suffering from an epidural hemorrhage (compliments of Dan). That is, post-blunt force trauma, blood began to fill between my skull and the first layer of meninges (the dura matter). The pressure in my brain is going to rise until the ventricles shift and I show symptoms of a stroke (hemiplegia on my left side and extremely dilated pupil on the right side.... I got hit on the left so I will herniate to the right... the deviation will be a counter-coup, secondary injury... how did I only get a 79 on my exam?!). To ensure an ultimate demise, the contents of my brain will seek pressure relief in the most extreme of ways; they will shove through the foramen magnum at the base of my skull and turn my entire existence to mush. I suppose that the final result of perishing can be validated by saying that it was a good evening. I am kind of hoping for some sort of injury so that I can procrastinate my school work for an even longer amount of time.

My friends are coming for the evening. I am excited to see them. We were going to see Anti-Christ tonight, but the Pittsburgh theater cut its showings. Bummer.

And maybe I'm dumb for making you smile...

Alright, so I know I've recently talked some pretty heavy shit on the gynecologist... it was a natural defense mechanism to an uncomfortable situation in my life. However, I'm reaping what I sew, getting what I deserved, feeling the karmic retributions and have been forced into submission to become a part of the opposing force: I have my community nursing clinical at an STD clinic. I now have insight to the other side and the grass is NOT greener. So, here it is...

The Gyno Reprise

First of all, I am not judging you... I am just sick of having your (in the general term) oozing, dripping, crusty, and/or blistered vagina/penis (again, in the general term) thrown into my tortured face fifty times a day. WEAR A GOD DAMN CONDOM. I don't care how good it feels without; the blisters are a brutal ache and the urethra burns like hell when your infected piss - if even able - flows from it. Not to mention, no guy or girl is going to want to fornicate with the green mucous flowing from every meatus or orifice in your bubbly, moldy/rotten cauliflower look-a-like, wart-ridden unmentionable area. A condom makes sex less appealing? Any sex (eeeek... well, most sex) is better than no sex.

Answer: I've never had an STD and I only have one partner. We try to stay pretty monogamous. She's popping one out in like, I don't know... soon?

Thought: Oh, really? Just one partner? Because these radioactive looking sores on your cock (that are about to bust in my face) are sure as shit pretty damn new. What is a man's definition of "monogamy", anyway?

Answer: Well, I've only had one partner... but he told me he just contracted chlamydia (cue immediate protrusion of tears that lead to a near syncopal episode related to hyperventilation).

Thought: Fuck, my condolences are so awkward. Should I open her a pack of tissues? Please, please don't pass out on my watch. Damn it, I'm the worst.

Answer: Um.. I don't know. Girl's like me love 'em and leave 'em. Plus, I ain't going to tell the boys nothin'. They'll get the disease they deserve.

Thought: YOU! You are the spawn of Satin spreading the putrid disease around the middle school! You are the devil reincarnate who is forcing young men into the clinic where they flap their immature peens covered in the disgusting God knows what in my face! You ...I hate you.

Thought: Eighty two? Really? EIGHTY TWO YEARS OLD? How? Why? What?!? Is there seriously an eighty two year old man at the STD clinic? This exam is going to be not only painful, but I am going to be traumatized for the rest of my life. Jesus, I hope he didn't take his Viagra today... I don't want anything to pop up while I fondle his sagging, yet shriveled, junk. Welp, here goes nothing.....

Thought: Seriously, the state needs to send more funding. We need eye protection here. I'm not about to laser off this dudes anal condylomata so that they can vaporize, rise to my nose/eyes, and infest the shit out of my innocent face. Waaaah.... Eff my life.

Thought: I'm not sure what your definition of "spread" is... but there is no way anyone or anything got through this clenched knee barricade causing the series of unfortunate events that brought you in here today. I don't want to be all up in that dark cave of unknown sights, smells, and sounds any more than you want to eat post-Indian food shit, but it's my job. So, please, work with me, woman!

Thought: What was I thinking when I signed up for this? I'm elbow deep in this girl's thighs and I just felt her chest for lumps. Ugh, boobs are so weird sometimes. I need to say something to distract myself from gagging at my current actions. What the hell do you say at a time like this?

The human instinct side of me kicked in every time a guy dropped his pants; my heart would flutter, my teeth would clinch to my curled lower lip, and my hands produced a minute amount perspiration. Then, I remembered that these weiners are sloppy seconds with herpes, warts, clap, chlamydia, and the likes clung to, stuck up in, and exploding out of it. In any other circumstance, I might have to attack a cute one by the end of the day... but these peens are world's biggest turn off. No wonder the gyno crews have downhill relationships since the nineties; their job is the most massive clock block EVER.

Moral of the story, kiddies: DON'T JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER... you never know what the inside pages will read. However, I'm still probably going to revert to my original gynecologist thoughts when I'm not on enemy turf.

Today's positives:

1. I passed my "Mid-Curricular Exam" for the nursing school. All this means is that I have a good chance of passing my nursing licensing exam after graduation. I suppose this is a good thing, seeing as how the past four years have not been a complete waste of countless hours and eight grand.

2. I fell in love with the beautiful barista boy at Kiva Han. We might get married... he just doesn't know it yet.

3. My period has arrived. In normal circumstances, this would be a bummer. But, after eight long days of it staking out and driving me quietly insane... its presence is graciously welcomed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2T2NMuzpWi4&feature=related

Langhorne Slim - Worries

ATTENTION!

To my beautiful, smoking friends with whom I'd like to grow old and haggard... a recent article published in a nursing genetics magazine has released breaking news ("breaking" in my terms, not theirs): eating green, leafy veggies helps to protect against the genetic changes that are associate with lung cancer. So (!), eat up and suck down! Ruv yew.

Currently trying to decide if it's more foolish to quit college while I am one semester from graduation, or to follow through with a career that I more than detest and forever will. hmmm....

I don't really want to be the queen.

When I become writer (haha) this is going to be my tranquil and serene get away where I clear my mind and write stories of fanciful, whimsical, and all together fucked up plot lines:

I'll take a picnic basket of organic, vegan foods and lug an old typewriter that doesn't permit copies or allow me to save the shit lines that I'll end up tearing up and tossing out. I will most likely allow my ADD to kick in and I will be distracted by the reflection of the clouds on the lake and twist their appearance into whatever shape/structure/being my mind can conjure up. It will be a good life.

It just seems natural; you and me against the world...

The Greco-Romans once had a tall-tale (for lack of a better word) about witches, about good versus evil. They said that there are two types of witches - day witches and night witches. The day witches are good and nurturing while the night witches are secretive and bent on destroying all civilization.

Which would I be... which would I be? Definitely night. While it is a far extreme to aspire to cause the damnation of humanity and all it's links to this Earth, being a night witch would be vastly superior and entertaining. The mystery of them alone is enough to intrigue one to their romantic lifestyle. Their desire to end civilization is probably a just one, considering how terrible most humans actually are. Jenny, though, wants to be a day witch. First of all, she doesn't wake up earlier enough to join this branch of the cult... she thinks that 11 a.m. is "early" morning. Secondly, in what ways is she good and/or nurturing? Exactly... none. Plus, what kind of vampire would chose the day witch lifestyle? You fail Jennifer Karen Schaeffer... epically.

Save me... please, SAVE ME!!! And take me here:

Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage he's done...

The gynocologist, though? You walk in awkward as all hell because you know what your fate will be in a just a few short minutes... but you're more fresh than you've been in God knows how long because you've showered for an hour and scrubbed the shit out of your soon to be examined crotch. Then, a nurse asks you questions to which the answers you don't even want to admit to yourself... let alone some judging stranger. You know, the whole gyno crew does nothing but judge all day. Don't judge me... sex is natural AND I think that some of your judgement comes from the fact that you're stuck in a shitty, monogamous relationship that has been on a down hill spiral since 1992.

Q:Do I ALWAYS use condoms?
A:No. I'm a suffering college student; I can't afford that shit. Not to mention, sex is a rarity... if there isn't protection at my immediate disposal, I'm not going slam the breaks and hope that a reoccurance doesn't hibernate for ANOTHER twelve months.

Q:Do Iknow the repercussions of my actions?
A:I'm not eight anymore... yes, I know what can happen. But sex feels so much better (and it flows more fluidly) without the smelly cum catchers in the picture.

Q:Am I ready to deal with the consequenses?
A:Fuck no, I'm not ready for a baby... but that sure as shit wasn't a part of my thought pattern at the time. I was acting in my natural animal instinct and taking care of business. Thank you, though, for reminding me that I am a twenty two year old piece of shit who lacks the physical means and mental maturity to care for herself, let alone another human life. Plus, I'm kind of banking on the fact that my body knows better than to allow any sort of fertilization to ensue.

Q:Does my partner have other partners?
A:Ugh, probably?... I don't know nor do I care to know.

Q (more of a statement/judgement that a question, but...):Well, dear, having this sort of conversation with your partner is very important.
A:Listen, lady... a girl's got needs and it's none of my business what my "partner" is doing when he isn't satisfying the aforementioned needs.

After this demeaning interview, you go into the exam room and that's when you enter true Hell on Earth. You're sitting there, embarrassed and naked... half exposed because the gown needs to be open in the front so that the doctor can fondle your boobies while trying to make the experience less constrained with terrible conversation ending with a (not-so-funny) joke about flopping your feet into the slings and skooching your bum to the edge of the table. Ugh, then the doctor breaks out the massive light the glares warm on all your unmentionables. As if the image isn't disgusting enough au naturel, the beaming imperfection finder picks out all of the super nasties by illuminating every this, that, and the next thing of your perineum.

"Alright, dear, now just spread your knees a little more.... a little more..... just a little more...." What the hell, doc? What on Earth could you be shoving up there that my legs need to be split and spread from sea to shining sea? Cheese and rice... the next few minutes are some of the most uncomfortable minutes in a girl's life. Minutes that she subconsciously dreads all year long. There is good news, though. My doctor told me that I had an "A+ vagina" (that damn judging again). I'm going to brag a bit and say that to have a vagina of such stature is quite the accomplishment... but who the fuck says that? What do you say back to something like that? Ugh... can I get dressed now? God, I hope I can get dressed now.

After the gyno, I went to my grandparent's house to get an adjustment from my pap - a chiropractor - since I've been sick. I told them where I was coming from and I got the third degree about being pregnant (they've got more bastard grandchildren than I can count on one hand). Again... there is good news. My grandma slipped a twenty into my cleavage (eeek, embarrassing). However, she told me that I should "try to" doll myself up and use the twenty to take a handsome young boy to lunch so that I'm not "alone" anymore. Jesus, do I look that desparate? Eff me... I bought a bottle of semi-decent wine for me, myself, and I instead.





Random things that I might want to recall/want to interweb to know:

1. My 83 year old grandfather made a facebook. There are just no words.... I am keeping my fingers crossed that he doesn't request my friendship because I will have no choice but to deny him.


2. I went to Babe's Bar last night... only the finest of Derry Area's establishment where only the classiest of people venture to sip the most ravishing of drinks (aka a shit hole with dirt floors where forty-something year old hicks with limited teeth drink mass amounts of the beer on special). I drank far too many beers, got hit on excessively by an old/married man, and witnessed a bar brawl that ended with the words: "Meet me at the little league field to settle this like real men, you chicken dick sucking mother fucker." Yeah...... Not to mention, I'm lucky to be alive after Tara's driving shananagins on the way home.


3. My mom found my sister's cherry flavored blunt wraps this morning. She thorougly inspected the tube and then asked, "Who's lip gloss is this?" Holy hell.... After Emily explained what they were, she had a minor freak out, saying that it was the same thing as having alcohol in the house for minors. My sister reassured that it wasn't like having the alcohol... it was more like having the shot glass.


4. Finally, I am avoiding my notes at all costs (as I'd rather fail my exams this week than study for them) by watching YouTube videos of Jeff Buckley. I'm confused and frustrated that the stupid site is telling me that some of the best songs are blocked in "my country". Now, I'z been all over this here world... and I've come to find that the U.S. of A. is the best country there ever was (derrrr). No, but really... why is it blocked in America? He was an American and his music is so beautiful that I just want to enjoy it. How can you block a country?