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#31
07-07-2011, 10:58 AM
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__________________
"...we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Nazis."
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#34
07-07-2011, 12:39 PM
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We've been together just over a year, and I'm now realizing that his mom does in fact dislike fat people. She thinks they are all fat lazy slobs. At first, I thought she was just being a brat, but no.
When my boyfriend and I started dating he was skinny. He gained weight as he ate, because for the first time in his life, he actually had someone cook for him. His mom doesn't cook and will come up with every excuse possible. She answers phones for a living. He works in a hot, dirty, filthy warehouse unloading semi-trailers. Even after all that, she refuses to cook for him because he will get 'fat'. This is where it all started: "Have you ever been bribed to lose weight? Ugh, sometimes I could just slap my boyfriends mother. Last night she decided to bribe him with money to lose weight. (He moved in with me recently but he stayed at her house this week to help her since she had a relapse with her MS.) Anywho, she tells him that if he loses down to 190 that she will pay him $200, and for every year he keeps the weight off an extra $500. She constantly bitches about his weight. He has gained around 50+ lbs. since moving in with me. When we go to visit she will poke at his belly and shake it and just stare at it! She is mad about him gaining the weight. She starved him when he lived with her. Literally, starved him. She would only buy enough food that would last the 'average' person 3 days and made it last for almost 2 weeks. When we started dating, we went out a lot. So he gained a few then. But he really didn't start until we moved in together. Even when he tells her to shut up about it, she does for only the rest of the day. It just really irks my nerves. Sometimes I think that she doesn't want to be in public with him unless he is skinny. I think it is ridiculous. To her fat = lazy slob. Sometimes, I wonder what she thinks about me? But, then again, if I ever found out I probably would slap her. Has anyone else had to deal with something similar?" Well, I pondered a question at the end of my OP in the above mentioned thread. I got my answer. She thinks I am a mooch. I don't work, because I have to stay at home and care for my parents. They are both physically disabled. I do all the household duties for them, get their medications, go to their doctor appointments, etc. My boyfriend spoils me when he has the extra money. He buys me anything I want as long as it is a reasonable price. He treats me like a queen. I love him more than anything in the world. Well, recently he moved out. We just were not ready to live together. We fought, argued, and went to bed angry. We both agreed that him moving out was best for us both. Now, we rarely fight, have great weekends together, and just have a much better relationship. So, one day his mom sat on her broomstick the wrong way. She tells him the only reason he dates fat girls is so he can be fat too. That fat girls won't care what he looks like, they just want someone to be with. She has called me a b*tch, a c*nt, a many other names. Every time this has happened he has stood up for me. Unfortunately, I am expected to suck it up, take the punch and smile! It has come to the point that I no longer go into the home. I refuse to speak to her. And I have made it VERY clear to him, that if we do ever have kids, that she will NOT see them. She is not a nice person. Why would I want my children to be around someone who can't respect their mother? I recently talked about dying my hair. I already have dark dark brown hair. It turns near black in the winter. So I wanted to just go ahead and dye it black and get highlights. The face she made when I said made me want to get up and strangle her. Then she said "Don't do that. Only sluts have hair like that, and my son doesn't date sluts!" WTF! She is lazy and complains 24/7. She refuses to go anywhere and then bitches about it. She makes my boyfriend feel guilty about going out and doing something. She always says: "Sure would be nice if I had someone to go do that with." The only thing I can say is get off your ass, and get out and meet people! She has the "Woe is me, you should feel sorry for me because I have MS" thing going on. When they first moved here, someone asked her on a date. He later called her to give the details. He asked if they could meet in a public place. She got mad, screamed "If your not going to pick me up, then you can forget about it!" and hung up on the guy! I'm at my wits end with her. I'm stressed enough at home, then to have her put me down like that just pisses me off! My hair is starting to fall out now! Sorry for the rant. I just didn't know where else to go and blow off steam! | ||
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#35
07-07-2011, 12:48 PM
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my dad yells and screams at my brother and me about everything. He yells at my brother relentlessly, somehow thinking it will make him lose weight. All it does is make him eat more, and gave me eating disorders to lose weight before I got to his point. My dad has a "stressful" job, but it's really just that he can't handle stress. He thinks he's a martyr and anything he does is sanctioned.
Now that we're older and don't live in the house anymore, we involve him in our lives as little as we possibly can. But really, the main point is this: trakanon?
__________________
"...we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Nazis."
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#36
07-07-2011, 12:49 PM
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Quote:
I arrived at Wal-mart, mounted my courtesy-scooter (walking is such a drag!) sitting side saddle so that my wolves would show. While I was browsing tube socks, I could hear aroused asthmatic breathing behind me. I turned around to see a slightly sweaty dream in sweatpants and flip-flops standing there. She told me she liked the wolves on my shirt, I told her I wanted to howl at her moon. She offered me a swig from her mountain dew, and I drove my scooter, with her shuffling along side out the door and into the rest of our lives. Thank you wolf shirt. Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the 'guns'), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark. | |||
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#38
07-07-2011, 12:58 PM
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Loly; hey, if you type in your pw, it will show as stars
Loly; ********* see! Ektar; hunter2 Ektar; doesnt look like stars to me Loly; Ektar; ******* Loly; thats what I see Ektar; oh, really? Loly; Absolutely Ektar; you can go hunter2 my hunter2-ing hunter2 Ektar; haha, does that look funny to you? Loly; lol, yes. See, when YOU type hunter2, it shows to us as ******* Ektar; thats neat, I didnt know IRC did that Loly; yep, no matter how many times you type hunter2, it will show to us as ******* Ektar; awesome! Ektar; wait, how do you know my pw? Loly; er, I just copy pasted YOUR ******'s and it appears to YOU as hunter2 cause its your pw Ektar; oh, ok. | ||
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#40
07-07-2011, 01:12 PM
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THE FAGGIEST SHIT YOU WILL EVER SEE IN YOUR LIFE:
A TRAGICOMEDY Disclaimer: It's not my fault if you fuck up and hurt yourself Two months ago, my crazy rapper shaman friend Wise Proof came to me and told me he needed me to be the feature at his weekly open mic down on Haight Street (I live in San Francisco). As I'd just recovered from a several month long bout with writer's block and depression on that very night (approximately 45 minutes prior to Wise Proof's arrival and request - thank you DXM!) I eagerly agreed. I spent days obsessing over my set, picking just the right poems, stories, comedic routines, and songs for my performance. Finally, Friday came, and though I was not 'ready', I was eager. Prior to leaving the house I ingested some GHB in a glass of water. A few words about GHB: for me, GHB possesses almost every desirable quality of alcohol with much less of the downsides. It never fails to lift my mood, loosen my tongue, lubricate my joints, and spike my sex drive (to the point that on large, but non-stupor inducing, doses I get spontaneous erections). I've never had a hangover from it, and usually feel better the next day than I would have if I hadn't taken it. My friend @ gave me a ride to the performance on his motorcycle, and I began feeling the first effects on the way there. A rush of relaxation, a sudden drop in anxiety, neurosis, and stress. We got to the cafe and proceeded to schmooze. I began dipping into my clove cigarettes, both to enhance my already expansive sociability and to focus my mind for the performance. Friends began arriving, so there was abundant conversation. 10 minutes prior to my reading I went for a quick walk around the block with @ and we both packed the area between our cheek and our lower left gums with baking soda and powdered coca leaf (the baking soda allows the cocaine and other active compounds to be more easily transported across the mucuous membranes; in South America, they use mineral lime). This was about 1.5 hours after the GHB. I usually prefer the whole leaf for aesthetic purposes, but the powdered leaf was what we had, and it is also somewhat more effective for rapid absorption. As Evo Morales has said, "Yes to Coca, No to Cocaine." I find the leaf (whole or powdered) to provide a holistic, healing quality that is lacking from refined cocaine. There is none of the grossly overinflated ego, none of the ceaseless jabbering about nothing, and none of that good ole' cardiotoxic THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. I have never experienced a 'crash' from the leaves. Having self-administered the coca, we now returned to the performance, just in time for me to have another cigarette prior to wowing the crowd. As it turned out, there was a delay, so I had a couple of cigarettes and engaged in some schmoozing out on the sidewalk. Then there was more delay, so I went to the bathroom, and took out my coca wad. This was approximately 45 minutes after taking it. Finally, it was time. I'd set out to blow away the audience, and it worked. For about half an hour I did classic pieces like "Dogs Beam Their Thoughts at Me Maliciously" and "The Holy Moly Be-Bop Won't Stop Its Oz Trek for No Cosmic Cops," along with more recent favorites like "Every Individual is the Indivisible made Visible" and "Ass Ode". For the conclusion, I performed a blues song about Buddhism that I'd just finished that week and the place went wild. Beautiful women were walking up and rubbing themselves on me, people were asking me to lend my assistance to various projects of theirs, my friend @ told me he'd never seen me perform that well - and I felt great. I went out on the sidewalk and smoked a blunt with some friends and acquaintances, and began mapping out the rest of my night. We hung out around the cafe for another two hours, and then decided to drop by a party going on south of Market in SF. My friend Seth gave me a ride, and once there we met up with (one of) my (innumerable) ex-girlfriend(s). (tho, truth be told, she is still #1 in my heart) We danced and socialized for a while, and then a friend offered us some Molly (powdered MDMA), so we each insufflated a small line, and went back to dancing and conversation, though with far more energy/enthusiasm/excitement. During the course of the party I had great conversations with several acquaintances, and made arrangements with one (who also happens to be very hot) to do some collaborative work (unfortunately due to chronic problems with procrastination I have still not followed up on this). My ex and I managed to hammer out some of the remaining issues from our relationship. I performed a new piece of mine (a love poem to crack addicts) for my acquaintance Wes so as to disarm his snootiness (it worked), smoked some more cigarettes and ganja, and then decided to head over to a party I'd heard about in Oakland. Prior to leaving I asked my friend ^ for another bump of Molly and two ~100 microgram doses of LSD, which he happily provided, and then I was off. Seth, who was sober, drove. An hour later, we arrived. Walking through the front door of said party was like stepping into a different dimension. It was a two-story house filled from top to bottom with revelers. There was incredibly loud music playing, there was a bonfire in the backyard, as well as clowns, firedancers, wandering musicians, and assorted freaks. Needless to say, I was in my element. The LSD was really coming on, and blending perfectly with the MDMA. I ran into a few people, chatted, and generally grooved. I began walking through the basement when I noted that there was a threesome just finishing on a mattress over in the corner. My friend + called me over, and I went and laid down. We conversed for a bit about poetry, psychedelics, and life in general, and then as things evolved J (a big, beautiful gay black man) and C (an amazing half-nude priestess) came in and casually started playing around. C got out her whip, and the next thing I knew, I had my ass in the air and was asking for a good pounding - and C happily obliged. As things evolved we all started rolling around on the bed in various interlocked positions. I was candyflipping pretty hard at this point, and I was in absolutely ecstasy (har har) from the sensory overload. At some point, an early 20 something came into the room (which really couldn't be closed off from the rest of the house) and asked if he could sit down. "Sure, dude." We resumed. A minute or two went by and then the kid asked if he could get our help. "What's going on, dawg?" "I've been at this party all night. I've been here with friends. We've all been seeing the same things, but none of us know WHAT THE FUCK we're seeing. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON AT THIS PARTY?" We tried to explain to him that it was all about being comfortable with yourself and with other people, everyone respecting everyone's boundaries, and everyone having a good time. He was not convinced. "Are you sure you people aren't just all crazy, and you've convinced each other that it's okay, and now you have parties and festivals and things?" At this point, C was riding J out into the backyard. J was completely naked, on all fours, and C was on his back, whipping him in the ass, and yelling "YEEE-HA!" The square pointed and said "Like that right there! What the fuck IS that?!" +, who was lighting a DMT pipe on a candle, said, "Dude, this is the faggiest shit you will ever see in your entire life. That is a gay man, and that, that is a woman. But you will never meet two faggier people, or experience a faggier moment than this." The square observed the glass pipe, which was just beginning to emit smoke, and asked, "What's in that pipe, dude?" + replied, "DMT." "Really? Wow. It's been a long time since I've taken DMT. Can I have some?" {it was fairly obvious he'd never taken DMT} "Sure dude, I just got it going, have the first hit." The square took the hit, and while in the process of inhaling his eyes suddenly bugged out, after which he made a noise something like "Uhoahhhahh" and got up and walked out into the yard. A few seconds later C and J came back in, and we resumed our athletic activities. The square eventually stumbled back into the room, sat down, and said something like, "I think I'm dying." C, who was whipping +, J, and myself, turned around and tried to comfort him while still disciplining us. "Sweetie, it's okay, you just have to let yourself die. Just go into it, relax, you'll be reborn. Don't worry about it." While she offered good advice, the kid refused to accept it. A few more minutes went by, he came down, made some comments about how that couldn't have been DMT because it hurt his lungs, and demanded to see what + was "riding with." + said, "Whatever dude, it's time for you to leave." The kid and J left (separately), and C and + began doing an initiation style ritual for me just as I slid into the peak of my candyflip. They were both freestyling in time with the rhythm of the whip cracks, giving me instructions on how to become a new being, how to molt into a new form - by being able to experience every sensation to its fullest, by not fleeing anything. C would whip me very hard, to the point that I thought I was going to break down, and then she would drag the whip across my back very slowly, softly, and sensually, all the while chanting about accepting pain and pleasure fully, and being able to deeply experience both. My friend Seth came looking for me during said ritual, while I was peaking and very non-verbal. I remember hearing "Hey, I need to talk to Cliff for a second" followed by "NO, HE CANNOT BE DISTURBED." I was beyond language at this point, and also felt like I couldn't just get up and leave with a raw back, especially since C wasn't finished. Seth left to go get coffee, and we resumed. J came back and C put away her whip, so we went back to the foursome. A few more people came in and out, including one really hot but fully dressed girl who wanted to be groped for a few minutes. Finally, I felt pretty shagged out (har har) and decided to head for the yard. I watched the sun rise, smoked a few bowls, and then another friend and I got a taxi back to San Francisco, where we sat up drinking green tea and having fine conversation. Reflections: *Hedonism is spiritually valuable *Hedonism cannot be engaged in constantly if it is to remain valuable *I am unsure of the ethicality of + giving the square DMT, though it is admittedly funny *I spaced out my doses in such a way that the risk was minimal, but no one should labor under the idea that this is a "safe" combination of substances *I wonder where that square is today, and what the shattered fragments of his reality look like.
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ne letter short of danger." --Unknown
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