Category Archives: Shut The Fuck Up

I’m just gunna say it how it is


This will be a post that not many will agree on. They may be just as many, hopefully more that will agree with me on. Let’s hope you are enlightened people. I hope you are. If not, well that’s sad. I want to tell you to kinda of fuck off then… but I won’t, because I believe that you have a right to have an opinion… but people with the wrong opinions, well I don’t like you. I really don’t like you.

Abortion is a right. A fucking right. Your right to picket abortion clinics? No. Shut the fuck up. Write an angry letter to your political official. Start an angry blog. Hey, write your own suicide note in your own blood telling the world how you feel these women are murdering babies. Go on. Do that. In your own home. But don’t make a hard decision harder. You can’t understand until you’ve been in that situation… you can emphasise of course. No one wants to be in a situation like that, but sometimes you make a mistake, something goes wrong. But hell, I don’t want to bring a child into a world where I can’t buy clothes for it. Can’t afford to feed it. I want that child to have everything I didn’t have and more. Your child is the embodiment of the love you have for someone else, or maybe is this being you created out of pure love. That’s a child. You want its happiness. How is bringing a child into a world where all it will know is sadness, poverty and discomfort? I don’t want that. I don’t even want that for my enemies. Do I want children? Sure. I’m an only child. I grew up alone. I like being alone, but I wished as a child for someone to play with. I wish I had a big brother to protect me when I fuck up. I want someone to be there when my parents die, and hold my hand because they understand. But I’m alone. So that’s probably why I act strong. Some say bitchy and outspoken… maybe. But I also know deep down, that I came into this world alone… and I will die alone, so I pick myself up when everything seems to fuck up around me. I want a child, because one day, maybe I’ll be so in love with someone, that I want to create something with that person… a little someone that will one day find a love of their own. Because I know that when I find that someone, and I’ll look into their eyes, they will want the same thing from me. But it will be a choice. Because a child is sort of having a tattoo on your face… you have to be bloody sure you want it. There’s sort of no “backsies”. And that’s why abortion is important. The right to decide when you create this being, and with who. Sometimes you make a child, and you fall out of love… that happens. But that child was created, hopefully at a time of love… sure there are exceptions… there are those people who don’t care. They make babies coz they don’t know what else to do. Maybe it’s expected of them. Who knows. But the right to say no, as a woman is my choice. Sex is fun. No, with the right person, the right chemistry. It’s flipping amazing… but I don’t want to live in fear that every time I am with a guy a baby might be created. Use a condom… go on the pill… whatever works for you. But sometimes mistakes happen. It brakes. You forgot. You may be raped. Who wants to bring up a rapists baby? Have a constant reminder of a horrible moment in your existence? Who wants a father who is an unknown rapist? No one. No one can live with that.

Bringing a child into a world or an environment that is not ready, is not “saving a child”… it’s actually selfish… because you have brought a human being into a world that it won’t thrive or grow in. If you have every read any of Darwin’s books, you will be familiar with his world changing theory of evolution (which isn’t just a theory, it’s fucking reality “SAY NO TO CREATIONISTS YOU MORONS”… and yes I’m looking at you America!)… which means you know all about natural selection. Natural selection is technically no longer applicable to humans, owing to advances in medicine, but it still works on a social and anthropological level. Why do people who start life in richer families generally succeed better? (there are obviously exceptions, I mean look at Albert Camus for starters, but there are many… but rarer). With money, sadly comes opportunities. With opportunities, comes better schools, education, travelling… etc. it opens the child to a better job… a broader mind… better access to food and healthcare etc. This isn’t always true, but it is undeniable that it is a major factor. But it helps. So, if I take myself as an example. I’m a 25 year old student. I finish my studies in about a year and a half. I don’t have a job. I have a small flat. I can barely look after myself… let along a tiny human being. When I want a child, I want to be able to buy it nappies. Food. Whatever. I want it to go to a good school. Get a great job. Meet someone that makes them laugh and smile. I want them to be happy. Can I make a child happy now? Nope. So yes, if I get pregnant now. I’m having an abortion. Yes it hurts. Yes I don’t want to have to make that decision, but if I have to I will… because abortion isn’t murder. Abortion is about making the right choice at the right moment. Bring a child into a world that it can thrive in. Because unlike animals, the weak ones don’t just die… they poison your whole life. It’s sort of like being born with a thorn in your foot. You can still walk, but it fucking hurts. Being born to someone who can’t give a child all it needs, is the same. It won’t always thrive, it will eventually sort of go gangrenous and won’t be the best it could be. It takes someone who is born into hardship to say fuck you and pick themselves up. Look at the people who are born with too much money, or too much love and fuck up because they don’t have the fear to pick themselves up and sort themselves up. Life is about balance. It’s about trying your best to be the best you can, not just for you, but for the people you love and respect.

 

So, make the right choices… because that’s sort of what life is about. But it’s your life. So you make the choices that are the best for you. Don’t attach a rock to foot and jump into the deep end. Jump into the water with armbands on. It’s better to float than sink.

I dedicate this post to CB. Who always talks to me straight. No bullshit. And who always makes the best choices, even when I can’t, they aways give me the benefit of the doubt, and doesn’t judge me when I do go down the wrong road. Thanks.

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Filed under Choice, Culture, Family, Friends, Happiness, Hate!, Hello?, Love, Politics, Risk, Sadness, Sex, Shut The Fuck Up, Society, Sorry, The future, USA

Lock, Stock and Two Pints Too Many


Okie dokes. Where to start today? Difficult I’ll admit. Well. It’s a beautiful and sunny day here, and it can only put a spring in your step and a smile on your face. But, I shall talk today about something darker… what happens when you drink that golden nectar we all call beer (or for me, cider).

Today will continue from the last two I believe, but I can assure you, will be the last on the subject. Why you may say? Ah ha, I suppose like every good fairy tale, it has an ending! But not surprisingly (well for moi at least) not the ending you would desire. But that ladies and gentleman is not a shock, I mean come on, this is Roxy, everyone best friend! The last to be picked for sport etc! But, hey I’m not sad about that, I suppose you get used to that kinda shite anyway.

So, I’m feeling lazy and tired of all the shit to do with life, so I’ll be brief. Some friends of mine and I decided to do a onesie night and visit a few bars. We had copious amounts of gin at my flat, then headed to town. Now, we were very very hammered, so I feel like this probably explains why I went bat-shit crazy after (which for the people that know me, know I don’t do stuff like this, so yeah. Not my usual self!). We spend about two hours in bar C, and we left because there was live music, and I’m afraid to say we did not enjoy it! We then decided to go to bar MP. Mistake my friends would say, I on the other hand think with hindsight this was the only way, because visibly he didn’t have the balls to tell me, and I don’t want to live in wonder land (what pisses me off, is that I didn’t think he was a shit, I mean sure, I knew the guy had baggage (don’t we all?) but I swear I didn’t think he was this much of a heartless git. You will understand after, but holy fuck, I would have loved to say my own damn face, but anyway…) so I suppose at least I was… sure of his intentions (which to clarify here, is to clearly fuck me, lie and lie again, so super dooper Roxy!).

Anyway, so we all walk in, you could hardly miss us, because… I was dressed as a skeleton, one of my mates was a rabbit and the other one the cookie monster… so yeah. It’s not like we could “blend in”. Everyone in the bar was clapping and stuff, so they thought it was funny. We ordered a few pints and sat down. T’s mates came over and said hello (oh yeah, I forgot to say, dickface, or Mr T, was already there, but I ignored him, because, well he’s a big boy, if he wants to say hello he can, I don’t bite.) We had a few laughs… etc etc… I turn my face, and he is literally eating this girls face. I swear to you, all class went out the window, bit… sad really, I mean… seriously I think we are all old enough to know that PDA is a bit sad. Anyway. So, you are wondering what is going through my mind. Ah ha!!!! Well I was like, holy fuck, the dick. Ok fine. At least he’s made his choice, but didn’t have the balls to tell me. Okie dokes. Fine. I shall just enjoy my night anyway.

This is why I’m not totally sad about the whole thing, is because I have friends who love me and will defend me. One of my greatest friends screams “OI, T YOU FUCKING CUNT” across the bar. God Knows if he heard but hot damn does that make you feel good! This is when it gets funny, funny for me, definitely not for him. Now, I’ll remind you, I have never EVER done this, but as I saw him go to the lavatory, I shout “Oi. Dick head.” He pops his head up, and acts… mmm a mix between, drunk, surprised… and shock? No wait… shy… yeah he really hasn’t got balls… never thought about that. Oh well, (that said I usually go for shy guys but hey, maybe I should change hey?) I then (now I have got his attention) to shout something along the lines of, you piece of shit go fuck yourself. I can’t say I remember anyway. He then shuffles off.

I didn’t realise one of his mates heard and asked my friend C, what was wrong with me, she gave him an abbreviated version. (I found out the next day that he wasn’t aware of anything, so I’m thinking they can’t be THAT close. Oops. He said to C something along the lines of, oh well that’s probably girl A (in other words… well he’s got so many girls begging to date him that he has to class them, plan A, plan B…). Now, for people who know me, I have big issues with myself, my family etc but fuck me if I am going to be made to feel like a worthless pile of crap because a guy thinks I’m not good enough for him. So, even though I would of course want to see him again and all that jazz, for respect for myself etc, I can’t. I just can’t. I just hope he finds happiness. Or at least learns not to treat women like shite (although who knows, he may have made a special exception for me and decided to treat JUST me like shit! Who knows).

The thing is, in all seriousness, I don’t wish him ill. I really hope, he sorts himself out, maybe see a Psychologist or something. He has deep rooted problems, he doesn’t seem happy. Now visibly, I wasn’t the girl to help him, but maybe someone else will… but falling into another relationship… would just be a band aid… you can’t be happy with someone if you can’t be happy with yourself. I can attest to that, because I know how much I hate myself. I know why I hate myself, and yet I get up every day and try to be ok. I put on my mask and smile. The thing is, he likes wallowing in his own mess, that he thinks he’s the only one who feels the way he does. That’s called despair, and all I can say, is that everyone feels like that once in a while. So who knows what adventure lies on the other side, but if you don’t try, you can’t find out. As for me, oh well, it’s a shame, I really like like him, but what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger (argh, did I just quote Kanye West? Well… it WAS an expression before he made a shitty song) So… I’ll put that down to experience, and hope that one day it’s my turn for a great guy and a super relationship… or whatever! Until then, I shall… paint, draw, drink, laugh and cry! xxx

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Why… are there so many losers now ?


I know that I am going to get a lot of shtick for saying this… but seriously. I seem to attract a mix of social retards, losers and freaks. No. Really.

 

Loser Guy = The New 21st Century Man?

Loser Guy = The New 21st Century Man?

You know those jokes : “An Irishman, a Englishman and a Scot walk into a bar…” ? Well… I get all the unwanted attention from the guys who say “ohhhhh you study sex and food history? Wow… well I am into sexy food fun… wanna join?” My usual response being… “yeahhhh sure… ha ha ha here’s my fake number… call me…” NOT. I think I am also too nice, and I am sure this happens to the grand majority of “nice/friendly” girls… we attract the guys with “problems” who need to feel good about themselves… so latch on to you like a leach… sucking all the good vibes and kindness from you, until they are happy again… then drop you like a used condom. These guys are probably the worse… not unlike cameleons, you can’t tell their real nature until they unmask… which the only do when they have what they want (your soul!)  In any case, the social retards are probably the ones that are slightly less worse than the blood sucking losers that I mentioned before… Social retards (like shy guys) have a kinda charm. They don’t see themselves clearly and misunderstand social etiquette… which can be endearing… just like it can be gross (cf: “Hey babe, your father must be a terrorist because he created a BOMB!” = loser).

That said, it is of course always a compliment when a guy is interested… but I don’t know if it is modern society… computer games… or just bad genes… but seriously… what is with the sudden surge is loser-retard guys?

Most of the time, a girl with say to herself “oh my god… I think I have finally caught a break… this guy seems really great… etc etc…” and BOOM you find out he’s a closet homosexual (so that’s never going to work), or he has a tiny penis (another dealbreaker) or that he still lives with his mum… dresses like a clown… has a freaky fetish… or has daddy issues (this one = true fact)… has a ex-girlfriend who destroyed them… or is married with 5 kids… secretly a hoarder… eats paint… uses girls… or is just plain and simply… A FUCKING ASSHOLE. No no don’t worry, I’m not angry… I’m just disappointed that the quality of men has dipped lately. So fine, admit… I have been told I am difficult… but come on… who wants to settle for just “average happiness”?

No one should have to.

I think the problem is, no one is truly honest anymore. Too much tv, Sex and the City and misogynic behaviour has made men losers. They are getting the wrong “This-is-how-you-get-a-girlfriend” emails and misinterpreting what women want. All we want is normality… but not boring… or Mr everybody… we want a real and honest guy. Which trust me… is not easy! And… internet dating is lame too = too many liars and losers! (see… alliteration in “L” there… probably a sign!)

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Do or Die…


I know what you’re thinking. I’m overreacting (something I know I do pretty often). But I don’t believe that I’m wrong either. In fact. I’m right. 

Sure many of us have dreams, secret desires we sometimes don’t even admit to ourselves, but we all have them. I’ve had a few conversations lately with people who, on paper should be a hundred percent “I’m-so-fucking-happy-my-head-might-explode”; but aren’t. These people are insatiable (and I’m not talking sexually…). They are never satisfied with what they have. But they don’t have to. They are not wrong either. 

For an outsider looking in. I’m more than frustrated with these people. They nit-pick on things that are so not important that to be completely honest, I can’t help but imagine karate chopping their eye brows off… and maybe use nun-chucks on their chest for extra measure. But, they have a right not to be happy, because being unsatisfied is human. If we were 100% happy, most people wouldn’t move, evolve, but in fact would stay still in their little “happy-go-lucky” lifestyle… sitting still while life passed them by. But… these people are entitled to be… happy too (and maybe slightly boring). 

I have a friend, this person is finishing their degree, has a boyfriend, a nice flat, loving parents, friends who would eat off their right arm for them and is beautiful and a lovely person. And yet… they are constantly finding things to complain about. Why? 

Well… I have come to believe that progress comes through never being satisfied with what we have. Desire means… wanting something/someone that someone else has… we always want more. Without desire and hard-work, the USA wouldn’t be the great superpower we have now. It would still have a shitty train system (ok fine… it still has a shitty train system… but at least they have a nice roads). People would still be living on giant plantations in shacks growing cotton and corn. We would still have slavery… and thank fuck… democracy. America isn’t called the “land of opportunity” for nothing. It was build by people who wanted more, not only for themselves but for their descendants. 

We are still the same. So sure, my dream isn’t to have my own piece of land in Georgia and grow cabbage. It isn’t working for White Castle and it definitely isn’t being Miss France/UK. But even if I realise that my life is far than perfect, I still want more. 

Desire is like crack. Once you have some… you can’t help but want just a little bit more… 

Standing Still

That said, when I hear people complain about INSANE and RIDICULOUS things, I can’t help but wonder what the fuck they would do in my shoes. Most people took at the deal they were given, get back on that horse and try. Some people… just sit on their ass… complain and wonder why life is not that great for them. Sure, some people are dealt a really bad hand. Sure, having cancer, being hideous, being handicapped, growing up very poor… etc sucks. But if the cards you were given to start with aren’t great, you have to learn to reshuffle the cards, pick yourself up and try the fuck again. 

That’s why you have to “do or die”. It’s not just about “wanting”… it’s about trying. You might not get everything you wanted out of life, or do everything on that check list we all have at the back of our minds, but at least you try. You also have to take into account the sacrifices you have to make. Let’s take me as an example (not to sound narcissistic… but it would be rude to take someone else). 

Me = I have a degree in history (woo!). I have a family who are fuuuuuckkkinnnngggggg crazy (no really…), but I know that my parents would do anything for me. I have many friends, and a few I know would take a bullet for me. I’m not too hideous (I like to think?). I have enough money to do what I want. I’m not stupid. I am cultured and well travelled…. etc.

So you could say (superficially I realise because I haven’t exactly written very much here), that I should be happy. On most points I’m pretty lucky. But…  I have make sacrifices. I have lived in 3 countries, 5 towns.. and sure by moving around you make tons of friends… but you don’t have (if only rarely) long lasting relationships. So… if my social life, work life etc are great… my “boyfriend’ situation has suffered. Yes, yes I admit it… I have never been in a relationship that has lasted more than 6 months. But I don’t consider myself “unlucky”. A great relationship… is partly… chance (but that’s another issue). Do I complain? 

Fuck yeah I do. But I can. Because I have aspirations too. If I was totally happy with my life… I would be stagnant. I would stay still… unmoving… while everything changed around me. And no way do I want that to happen. If I didn’t “do” anything, I might not “die”. But life wouldn’t be that interesting. It probably should be “do or disappear” since dying is more permanent. So, stop complaining. DO. TRY. MOVE. SHAKE IT OUTTTTTTTTT! 

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Everyone Has a Number… Just Don’t Tell Yours…


1, 2, 3... ?

This title is pretty telling to anyone who has ever had the famous “number conversation”… but to all those who have been lucky to have never been asked this dreaded question… here I am to elucidate the issue.

This problem obviously, like many others on this blog does not cater to the somewhat rare species that is the “virgin”, and I sincerely apologise. I will in the future write something on the subject, but for now you will have to read about sex, drugs and rock’n’roll the old fashion way… by my experience… and popular psychological findings (or at least nearly scientific!). Now… I’m probably a hypocrite, but I will admit… I have never been lucky enough (or unlucky enough by the sound of my coupled up friends) to have been in a “long term relationship” that has lasted for more than… 6 months? Why? Well I suppose moving around, changing schools and universities every so often hasn’t exactly helped… and the fact that I am probably the pickiest person when picking out a “mate” (god doesn’t that sound like I’m an animal? argh horrible)… well when picking out a possible “partner” in any case.

A question that can come in any relationship, be it friendship (oh you nosey girls and guys!) or a “i’ve-you-naked-relationship-on-numerous-occasions” type of thing, is (and this needs to be in a slightly larger font for emphasis I think…) :

“So… like… how many men/women have you slept with before me?”

ARGH HOLY JESUS! Why are you asking? Seriously? Neither of us want to know the answer! I mean, logically… if your partner had slept with less that what you were expecting, we all know you’re thinking “oh wow… he’s really inexperienced/such a loser” or something ridiculous in that vein… and if it’s far more that you expected then you’re thinking “oh god, my boyfriend/girlfriend is a man-whore or just plain whore”. Now… I know we shouldn’t judge… but we all do! Never EVER would I tell anyone my number (unless we were very good friends and I wasn’t planing to bumping uglies with that person). The sort of person who asks that question is usually either overconfident ou lacks confidence, but probably is too curious. Many people have and will continue to ask this question, but none of us truly wants to know. Most men over state the truth, most women will take a few men off their list. Why?

Because even in the 21st century… there is a stigma attached to how many people you’ve slept with! Can you believe it? Even after the sexual revolution… women who are deemed “overzealous” with their bodies are still perceived as “dirty skanks” and men as “virile stallions”. It’s a bit ridiculous, and in a perfect world the number of people you have slept with wouldn’t matter… but in the society we live in… it does! That said, marrying a virgin… is still only fashionable in the USA and the Arab countries… and in Europe is seen as a bit “old fashioned” and even strange. But sleeping with a billion people is seen as just as creepy. Men don’t want whores (and yet the want their women experienced) but neither do they want nuns. Women are the same… and even I will admit it, I don’t want to know the girlfriends of my perspective boyfriend. All I want to know is that he is aids and STD free and I’m good to go! But… even saying that, I don’t want to think of him as a gigantic man-magnet. Neither do I want to be his first… but neither do I want to be his millionth conquest. I suppose, we want to feel special… and yet part of a collection (so not to feel too much like so “outsider”).

So, never ask anyone their number. Don’t ask, because whatever answer you get you will most likely be disappointed! I mean… I can even illustrate this with a rather telling example on my part! Ahem, here goes… we women… well we facebook stalk. Don’t lie. We’ve all done it (and even men are getting in on the act now!). Everyone goes on the guys profile their interested in to check for “red flags”. We all do it… I suppose it’s that “modern day morbid curiosity” that everyone’s talking about (but that’s another subject!). In any case… I’ve done it, and I’ve done it recently too. So, I like… a guy called… well let’s call him “B”… I go on his profile… and I start going back over a few months on his wall… to check… well to see how many girls he’s adding as friends… and interacting with (oh god does this sound weird I know!)… and I see at some point a statut update going around the lines of “_________ should be happy his girlfriend facebook rapes his profile! Lol!”… now this is mundane… but it was liked by five guys… and one girl… so I’m guessing the girl = ex-girlfriend… I obviously go the next step to creepyville and check out her profile. Nothing to see, she seems boring and all her profile photos are of animals (how old is she? No, maybe I’m being vindictive… I “sort of” apologise). I start to realise that I’d have prefered not know… because he seems to have broken up with her recently… so I start to think to myself… “omg… Am I his re-bound girl? Does he even like me? Does he only want me for sex? etc etc”. I have just fallen into the “you’re-totally-insane-psychotic-girl”. And… no one wants to be her.

So my advice? Don’t ask, don’t tell. Use your fifth amendment right! And for those who are not american (as I am not either, but I have seen enough episodes of the Good Wife to be a pro now) here is what you have to say if you want to “plead the fifth” :

“No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the landor naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put injeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.”

In other words you can say something along the lines “I refuse to answer the question on the grounds that it may incriminate me”.

So there you go, some wise person said when asked how many people they had sleep with “I’m sorry babe, but you can kiss my ass if you think you’re gunna get a reply to THAT question!”

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