Just pick one paragrpah cause this is a ridiculous rant.

The holidays are nearing an end. It has been a year of "Fuck Christmas" . Oh, and while we're at it "Fuck 2007" too. I looked at Christmas lights and still felt a little warmth but that was the end of it. It was love hate relationship this year.

I went home for a week. It was eye-opening, kick in the crotch of reality to say the least. Strangely enough, I wasn't ready to leave when I did. Maybe becasue I spent to most part of it drunk or done for in other ways. I sang "Family Tradition" by Hank Williams Jr in a bar with carpet and countless colored lights lining the walls, drinking a Long Island, near people I haven't seen in years, smoking a cigarette, wondering why all nights couldn't just feel as unreal as this. The people of Peck are an interesting breed and my mind almost exploded through my ears as I tried to understand this world that I grew up in. I'm a child of this town, it's an intense this to claim. It's strange how all the desicions I have made in my life would have been completely wrong for every one back home, but they were just right for me. There is a uncomfortable feeling of comfort in that.

My brother got married. My younger brother got married during Christmas. I'm pretty happy for him. But my angry side, is all like why you tryin to take Christmas? So it's Christmas right? and it's sorta my thing to be into Christmas. I think about Charlie Brown all year just waiting to be able to watch the holiday special. I love coming home and being cool and different and wearing scarves that apparently make me look like someone not from Michigan. And the attention is almost to awesome. And then to top it off I get presents. So Christmas is supposed to be kick ass. Well this year my brother got married. I was demoted to coat girl this Christmas. Life time commitments are aparently all the rage this year and I just missed the fuckin boat. The biggest commitment I've made in the past few months was my year subsciption to W magazine. People don't really give you hugs or money for commitments like that.

I'm talking to two new men. Nameless men because I can't deal with explaining either one of them. Argh. I want to be open to these things. I really do and I mean that. But it's been a long time since I've had a decent comversation with a person that I would also like to have sex with. I want you to talk dirty, but in a way that also makes my mind work. I mean I can only have so many conversations about my breasts. I get it they are large. Congratulations you notcied the biggest things that stick out of my chest, you're not a tricky pirate who just found a hidden treasure. The sky is blue, the grass in green, it snows in Vermont, there are starving children in Africa, and I have boobs....all things that don't need to be discussed to be noticed. JEEEZZZ.

My mom calls this side of my cynical, and this side of me makes me kind of a huge bitch. Its unfortunate that this seems to be something that will stick with me, like an STD. Is there an STD that cause sarcasm and cynicism? I know its not herpes, but I think its pretty close. It just itches the same.

And the bitch of the whole situtation is remembering the coversations I used to have with Mr. B Smalls before I he even got a chance to feel up my boobs. He just talked to me. He was charming, smart, and I just wanted to listening to his words trying to understand his way of thinking. That feeling made me want to get all up in that shit. Of course all those words and that "interesting" mind was the reason he ended up being sorta crazy. I like the crazies.

And then there was one. One dinner plate, one set of silverwear, one pack of cigarettes, one coffee cup, one television, one pillow, and the absolute worse, one toothbrush. I don't know how a piece of plastic with stupid little bristles that clean out your mouth crap can mean so much, but it really fuckin can. This ache can make a perfectly normal woman lower her standard to the point of no return. And pretend she's not a smoker. It's like a game of limbo....how low can you go?