The One Where I Procrastinate

Today is the first day of my life...or maybe it's the first day towards my demise, who's to say? I am embarking on a new career, in a new city and I have no idea what the fuck I was thinking!

Last month, I finally made the decision to uproot myself from my comfortable, safe, boring little life and move to Vancouver to start my comedy career. A bold career move at 33!

Yesterday, I finally moved into my new ' $900 shared accommodations; listen to your roommates hair growing in her sleep because the walls are so paper fucking thin that if you touched them, they would crinkle', luxury apartment!

This morning, I sit in my new room, surrounded by 4 'walls' of tissue paper, a mountain of unpacked boxes and an audience of voices in my head that say 'what a Fucktard! You actually think you are funny enough to make it? You will be eating jam from a homeless guys toes in a month and you won't even be able to afford the bread to spread it on!'

Right now, all I want to do is figure out how can I get away with using a vibrator without the new roommate hearing it! For $900 a month, I should be allowed to masturbate all over the apartment, using a diesel powered meat curtain machine that would overshadow the sounds of most chainsaws, without anyone even blinking an eye!

Hmm what would MacGyver do? Maybe a pair of almost dead batteries will do the trick? Or one fresh one and one dead one = not so many vibrate-y sounds?

I'm not horny, I just need to take my mind off of all I have to do...um so I guess you could call it Procrastination Masturbation. That way at least I can feel like I have accomplished something today. But alas, these walls won't allow me to get the Job done!

Unpacking has never been my forte, but neither has anything else in life...good thing I am so optimistic about this fictional career!

After reading this blog post, all I can think is 'holy shitballs, what have I done?'
Over and out
Trisha
~I surrender to The Writing Womb~
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I'm back with some Style!

So even though I haven't blogged in about 5 months, some awesome person has given me an incentive to write again as I was emailed that I am now the proud owner of some fucking award that means absolutely nothing to me but still made me feel good to receive it because that is just how shallow I truly am! 

Yet I do feel entitled to it because I am totally stylish with my potty mouth and excessive abuse of swear words. Making words like 'Shmegma, Quiff and Beastiality' sound stylish, sure is hard work and therefore I accept this award! So thanks to you 'Clocks Declaring ' for honouring me with the 'Stylish Blogger Award' and for getting me back on the horse ( this is my segue to the last paragraph of this blog post, just so you know that this post does in fact have continuity in a graceless sort of way...that's right, I am all about Style now people, you may hold your applause until after the break). 

Also to all of you who bitched and whined for me to come back, all 2 of you...here it is...the post you have all been waiting for...trust me, this post is like Jar Jar Binks in the Phantom Menace...irritating, pointless and utterly uncreative.

Life in my end of the world is really really good...and when things are really really good, I don't feel like writing...must be that tortured artist mentality either that or the comedy writing team that took up residence in my brain is still on lunch 5 months later...and I forgot to fire them and hire new ones...man, where do I find a sweet job like that?

So trying to write when I am happy and satiated is like trying to give birth when you aren't even pregnant...nothing can be created except maybe a quiff or two...and PUSH! One more, come on, push that blog post out! Ah congratulations, it's a pussy fart with all 10 fingers and toes!

Mostly, my "happy writing" looks like I ate a bunch of Skittles and washed them down with purple Koolaide and then regurgitated it all over the page...sure it's colourful but there isn't much substance to it. 

Hey so remember way way back at the beginning of this post I spoke about a horse??? Well, I will leave you with this deep thought I just had about them...

'Fuck you and the horse you rode in on' is quite a saying!!
I often wonder what it really means…like if you say that to someone, does that mean you want to fuck a horse?
Or does it me you would like to have a threesome with the horse and its rider?
Or is it a really obvious way to indicate to other people that you have in fact forgotten to take your Meds because most people generally don’t ride horses around town anymore unless they are rich or possibly a part time Rodeo clown...and if you are in fact off your Meds and seeing Rodeo Clowns you should probably call 911...but I digress..

Whenever I hear someone say 'fuck you and the horse you rode in on' I think of how it surely must have originated...some cowboy with road rage is behind another cowboy who is being a dick by riding slow and not letting Ol' John Boy pass...as they both finally arrive at the saloon the second cowboy tilts his hat and says 'howdy partner' with a smug look on his face that says he knew what a dick he was being and then the Ol' John Boy just loses it and is all like 'I challenge you to a duel Pilgrim' and in some kind of word miracle the other cowboy pulls that amazing one liner from thin air....The first cowboy ever in the history of the world, to use that line!
I like to believe that Ol' John Boy just tilted his hat and said touche and then they all slapped their knees, bought each other a beer while firing their guns in the air and pissing in their pants because of the hilarity of that quick witted comeback ….but we all know the inevitable outcome of saying something like that back then was the second cowboy getting shot in the face...cowboys were killed for much much less back then.

I guess upgrading that saying isn't really as much fun, as 'Fuck you and the porshe you rode in on'... it doesn't have the same ring to it....because fucking a horse is really quite taboo, even in this day and age ...it's not yet something you can casually bring up at Thanksgiving Dinner...at least in most Countries. Although 'fuck you and the Retard you rode in on' could be even more offensive because nobody ever admits to fucking a retard or a horse :o)
Plus that just screams classy all over it doesn't it?

So, until next time everyone, fuck you and the Horse and/or Retard you rode in on :o)
Thanks for reading
Love Patricia

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

 

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