A woman without a man it like a fish without a bicycle.

When I get a new sweater from Old Navy its the most amazing feeling in this world. I see it, I want it, its amazing. It has a tight knit, it has this color that makes the area right under my neck look tan in that healthy glow way. Its a V-neck that shows a classy amount of cleavage and it looks great with my favorite glass leaf necklace. After I buy it, I get to wear it and I love it. I love it so much I wanna wear it every day. Sometimes I do.
But sometimes I hate damn thing the next day. And then I wish I would have bought a new pair of boot cut jeans.
And that's really how life goes somedays.
I think that buying Old Navy sweaters is the closest I've ever come to real love. Old Navy and Guitar Hero.

It should be said now that I finally slept with someone. The first since my break-up with Mr. B.
It is interesting to be with this other man. He's an old lover because I have to recylce them so that my number doesn't get much higher than my age. Kind of like pop cans, sometimes you even get your deposit back.
Although I have decided that this man is not my boot cut jeans I actually want, he is still an amazing person. And we are causally enjoying eachothers company. His memory of me is so perfect. Its so nice to meet people who choose to remember all the positvie things about you. You gotta love that shit. Esspecially when you know you're a spaz.
He says you were always "good, warm, and funny".
I like that, I like that becasue its one of those weird romantic comedy things someone says. It doesn't happen very often and seeing as how my life goal is to live in a movie with a great soundtrack and a cheesy passionate kiss ending, it gives me hope. Hope that my life will be less like a horrible reality series and more like the Sound of Music. I truly believe that Julie Andrews will pop out of my toaster oven when I'm getting sexed up by the man I'm supposed to be with.

I have a date on Saturday, with another man. A date, just the word sounds like a joke. People date on Sex in the City....I live in Poultney and I don't even know Sarah Jessican Parker.

So there's that to think about.

I perform Illusions, tricks are what whores do for money.

I'm working for the man and it feels good. Cause this girl is bout to get ppaaaiiiidddd. I can pay my bills, even if that means I have to wear a white Oxforfd EVERYDAY! Luckily white makes me look tan tan tan....sometimes.

People at work are pretty chill. Sometimes I want to shout out inapproriate things. Or tell someone something that would make them cry. Like this "Hey sometimes when I eat to many Pizza flavored Pringles chips, my gums bleed." Then I could walk away and decorate a cake and just let them stew on that for a while. In yo face everyone who works at the bakery and knows where all the damn plastic containers go. I'll put that shit where I want and then I'll drop it like its hot.

Chatting with my boy from a different time zone, whose life is closer to the ocean I'm not close to. He laughs at all the stupid jokes I make, even when I know that I didn't even deserve a laugh. I respect that shit. Then when I actually am funny, he gets this deep down to the bones laugh that I can feel from 3000 miles away. I miss his face near mine. He smells good and he makes me laugh with his awkward, serious guy humor. He'll be here in March and its pretty possible that I will fuck it up again and be a weird commitment phob, maybe even a mad cow but I will get a few days of love love love. That's man's patience with my shit leaves me standing in awe drooling like a chump. And maybe I won't fuck it up, maybe I'll eat thunder and shit lighting, maybe it'll all work out. I would make kick ass jew. That's a fact.

Well I'm gonna get to watching some Sex and the City, drinking some tea, and smoking my last cig of the night. It will be a great end to this strange strange day.

Somedays you get a chance for breathe for 2 seconds. I will take these precious 2 seconds and fill them with the most relaxed in and out that I can muster.....................
.....

.....

that's what she said.

That's a bitch ass trick.

I'm pissed at the world today. I'm pissed at the world so hard that if the world was sitting in my living room right now, I would kick the world in the crotch so hard that the world would never be able to have children again. Don't let me mistake you for the world today, because you will be unable to have children after our visit.

I've been in my apartment aaaaaaallllllllllll day. The air in here is poisinous. My living room floor is caked in paper, tape, paint, markers, and some finished art peices. I was a tragic artist today...I can only handle being one of these a few times a month. If you let your creativity completely contol you for too long you will have smoked a whole pack of cigarettes, drank 14,000 cups of coffee, and talked to yourself for about the whole day straight. Then you will grab some drinks and you'll feel the need to be an alcoholic. Fight the urge, you'll regret it the next morning when you can't see straight, your make-up that was once on your face has melted onto your chest, and you can't feel your kneecaps.

Somedays you just have to give yourself permission to feel sorry for yourself, today is that day. I like my life, I'm so excited for my new job and the new boys and my apartment, just not today. Why, you ask? Because all my friends are couples....and sometimes they forget that I am single. They forget when they kiss the shit out of eachother while I sit there watching like a mentally challenged third wheel, they forget when they have to be alone for a few days and are convinced that they will choke and die and no one will find their dead body, they forget that I spend most of my days alone and quiet, they forget when they look at me like a child because I decide to hook up with an old lover, they forget when they tell me I should get a new boyfriend so we can play with even numbers again. So why don't I hang out with single people? Because they're just as annoying as I just was for a whole a paragraph and coupled friends don't let you feel sorry for yourself because they are happy. BUt unlike them after a day at my great new job, when I walk into my awesome apartment there will be no one here. I might get a call, which I appreciate....but no one will have cleaned the house for me, no one will be here to eat dinner with and smoke a cig with, and no one will actually care that I feel sorry for myself. So to all you single peeps who wish that life would fucking hand you a bone....a bone in the form of a wonderful man who talks to you, kisses you, is awesome in the sack, and acts like a man, go ahead and take the day to cry and scream and fuck it.
But tomorrow...get over it...this is what I'm gonna do.
Tomorrow I will clean my house, take a shower, laugh, and get the fuck over myself. There are starving children in African and they don't give a shit if I have a boyfriend or not.
But today I'm gonna indulge the want. Because when all your friends are coupled, married, engaged, or pregnant, you get premission to cry because you're not having sex on a regular basis.

My other excuse for feeling like shit: I'm bleeding like a fresh roast beef. My ovaries have aparently learned some skills that are similar to the skills of razors, hammers, and fire. Because the entire lower area of my body is exploding. Being a woman is so overrated.

I'm gonna keep painting...and then sleep early.

Oh and comedians with puppets are stupid....they are the least funny people in the world. They are just as not funny as Tyra Banks.

Its funny that you said that because I agree with you with the conviction of seven arabian princesses.

Soon I will have fun stories from the bakery world. I get to play with frosting all day and make pretty cakes and make people smile because they are eating sugar and chocolate and they love it. It is the perfect job. Kinda like getting some front to front action with someone who knows what they're doing.

I've recieved two "remember me" emails in the past week from men....maybe its been longer than a week. I put off answering these because my initial reaction to these little notes is "This guy is a douche" But then I take a minute to realize that I'm a critical bitch who will always be alone if I don't give people a chance. Then I write a sarcastic, funny note back, with a little bit of sweetness so I don't sound like an angry old woman with 14 cats who yells at children who walk on my lawn. And that's when I get myself into a little trouble...and by little I mean that I have no self control. If men and sex were like herion, my arms would be black and blue and I wouldn't be able to feel the tips of my fingers anymore. Their Hershey Kiss nipples, hairy backs, and horrible lines pull me in like a drunken jock at a rufie party.

So how do I defend my goodies? Hide in my apartment...good call. And it actually works pretty well. Except for the nights. Most nights I sleep straight through, I enjoy my bed all to myself. Its a happy corner of this apartment. But some nights I completely freak myself out. I can convince myself that a serial killer has just broke the lock on my door, walked in, read the mail on my table, checked my empty fridge for food, smoked one of my camels, took a pee, downed a shot of whiskey, and is just about to come into my room. When I can clear this thought from my head I literally run to my bathroom, make my pee come out as fast as I possibly can, and then run back as fast as I can. When I finish running like a small child, I always realize that I'm a spaz who needs to get over living alone...................
......
...
......
....
......
..
...
...
and I'm over it.

Played Guitat Hero tonight. It was awesome, but Metallica you can go fuck yourself. I hate you for writing that song and inspiring the makers of Guitar Hero to create the digital version on a plastic, rainbow buttoned guitar even harder than it probably is to play on a actual guitar. Being a virtual musician is harder than most people know. Slash may be a great gutiar legend, but he could never rock Cliffs of Dover on Meduim the way I do.


I tend to think in long sentences with no real point. I like that about living alone.

Yup, this is my favorite of the day.

Happiness is a cold drink.

Just watch it and enjoy

I bumped my lip on biscuit you slut. Edit Edit Edit.

So the most important thing I neeed to talk aboout. This is serious and is not to be taken lighty. Deap breath and....I'm a Guitar Hero rock legend. Some of you may remember the days of Mario Cart and Super Smash, I was not good. In fact, people may have said "That Angie, she is actually bad at these games, its not even fun to play with her because she lacks the skillz to make playing worth while" Well to all you na sayers, I say in your face suckazzz!!! I rock at guitar hero and I am actually competion. I only had one day of victory with Mario Cart, which to this day Alex denies. Well I challenge you to guitar hero so there will be no question about my ability to melt your face with my virtual guitar playing skilllz. I'm always getting better and I just know how to feel the beat, Jealous? You should be.

The Shaw's job is in the bag. Word. The people who work there are crazy. Like my kind of crazy, so they are pretty much awesome. Awesome like champions. I like people who are winners. I esspecially like people who don't win but then act like they do after the race. Those are the people I wanna chill with. I'm actually jealous of how awesome I could become working at a sweet job like that. I'm ready. (there's Rocky music playing in my head right now, on a loop, so it just keeps jammin)

I will rock your face off with my decorating skilllzzz. Edible images, yup gonna be learning a shit load about edible images.

And now to correct mistakes made in my last post

"and the bubble bursts ... she'll be a sophomore at Plymouth State in May, hasn't 'dated' anyone, and is enjoying random casual sex with the fudgemeister himself, not Mr. B. But don't let that ruin your Shaw's bakery legacy; yes, it's a terribly pathetic accessory to your delusional existence" unknown writer.

Apparently I recieved some bunk information from a friend of an ex lover man. I will take back the things I said to clear the air. I cannot take back that the post was funny. Funny. That's why I write on this thing for all to read. To be funny, to inflate my ever growing, ironic ego. I will make fun of you for smoking while I light one up, I will tell you your music sucks while I'm listening to musicals, I will make fun of you for your current dating satus while I'm unwillingly staying celibate and literally watching my hymen grow back. It may have been wrong for me to post the things I did, but I don't claim to be the Encyclopedia Britanica here, the "Gynie Show" is in no way a reputable peer reviewed journal. Take what you will from what I say. I'm an not a writer, I just play one on the internet. I'm also 5' 10'', blonde, skinny, with high check bones, a tight ass, and average sized breasts. Just kidding, I have huge party hats.

So I take it back and apologize. But I will not erase it because in the moment I wrote it, I sincerly thought it was true. And I really thought it was funny. Sometimes you gotta take a risk to make the joke. Lesson learned.

I need a cigarette. Like a freakin beast of tabacco.

I blame Oprah for the fact that John Krasinski is not my lover.

Well ladies and gentleman, life has decided to tickle my funny bone once again. Its as if this world just won't stop, it keeps getting better and better. After a little chat with an old friend from my relationship with Mr. B. Smalls...I was told that he is, in fact, dating a girl who is still in high school.....and to add a sweet little cherry on that cheap Stewart's sundae, this girl is also doing the private front to front with Mr. E! E! E! E! himself, Noah. hahahah
hahah
ahahah
ahahaha
hahahah

hahaha

It hurts so good to be the sane one some days.

And where does that leave me you ask? I could cry into fourteen glasses of wine knowing that my stupid ex is bangin some girl who probably like totally gushes over him in 5th period, with all her super popular friends, who like all have personalized ipods and spend 40 hours a day on myspace. But I have decided to take the high road. Only one glass of wine, no tears, 5 hours on facebook, a rant on my blog, and a small Friends marathon to get me to sleep.

Even though I don't have some hot young jail bate to have sex with, I do have a "contract" with Brett to marry him if we're still single at 30. Suck on that Trebek...

I have a job interview at the Shaw's bakery tomorrow, please tell me that sounds less pathetic than it feels. Doesn't matter how many resumes I send out....working at a grochery store with my degree in Fine Arts was always what I wanted to do. Esspecially now that I'm single and living below Jesus, who just happens to look like an overweight 60 year old woman that used to be into coccaine and acid...and it married to the town drunk.

Life is a magical ride.
Join me, won't you?

Elizabeth Taylor knows how to suffer

I read some of my old live journal entries today. That was the best idea ever. God, I was freakin hilarious. Where do I send those? because I think I could make alot of money just on being really funny and awesome. I actually feel bad for the entire world because they may never know the extent of my genius. Their loss.

I'm just as weird now. Let's take this second for example. I've been watching TBS all night. The Wedding Planner and then The Wedding date....twice. Being me is pretty awesome. I started cleaning during all of this. Just cleaning and moving things, moving things that looked fine in that corner...but for some reason I just don't think those things should be in that corner any more. And this should be moved 1/16 of an inch to the side and the color isn't right on that wall and I think we all should just clean our places of living. Then you never have to really work things out or make desicions because at least you have your fucking house clean. I will rock you.

I think in the end I will be dancing, dancing with a man with dark eyes, and dark hair, with a deep voice, who smells really really good adn won't have weird patches of hair on their back...and then we'll come home and watch Scrubs, because that show is hilarious.

Its Sunday....so I'm gonna continue to wacth TBS.

and that's what happens.