some tramp looking for an emotionally unstable man.

ok, so my blog seems to center itself around emotionally unstable men, PIGS, and everything else that probably makes me seem extremely depressed, anal-retentive, un-emotional, and pissed off at the world...but in reality, i am anything but. I'm actually VERY sarcastic and majority of my postings relate to the world, not to me. Below is something i found googling, ( i love to google.) and its from a woman who is LITERALLY searching for an UNSTABLE (algerian) man. i couldn't stop laughing, and had to post this because HECK, what's another person thinking im a man-eater gonna do to my life? nada.... ps. my thoughts are interrupted in the quotes...so love me, or leave me the fuck alone, boop. :)

"Ok I will make this brief=I want to make some emotionally unstable Algerian male friends--Some criteria: Yells alot, Talks to himself while p*ssed off, (*who the HELL wants this!!!!!!) Gets emotional when talking about certain holidays, people, soccer teams, Can't seem to bring himself to eat out ( likes to make his own food),(*wow, what a cheap-ass.) Actually listens to CHEIKH HAMADA, Has 2 leather jackets, (*only two? hahahaha, what if he has three!!! fuck.) Wont wear anything he cant wear a leather jacket with, (*this bitch is obsessed, eh?) Somehow is convinced that his best friend has turned against him-Cannot bring himself to get another car although his car is 15 years old and has 300,000 miles, (*i mean, really?) -I really would like to say I would like to meet a normal guy but normal guys usually think I am too weird so I say BRING ON THE MAHBOULS. (* i don't even want to know what this means.)

About me: I am cute. Nothing more nothing less. (*bitch must be FUGLY.) Not exceptionally bright. (*clearrrrrrly) Not exceptionally pretty. But very patient. I need a crazy crazy Algerian and I promise I will love him to death. (* promises fade you little tramp.)

please be on the lookout for my lunatic----Looks unimportant. (*obvvvvviously.) Level of insanity is crucial. No normal men need apply. (* i would love to meet this maniac.) I kind of find myself very attracted to very ugly men so don't worry about looks. (*is this a joke?) What is important is that he is a complete pain in the @&*. I love that in a man. In fact, the more annoying and eccentric the better."  (* she's every man's dream.)

Love you

__________________
SAHA

THE DANGERS OF MEETING MEN IN NIGHTCLUBS.

.why MEN you meet in nightclubs should NOT be added to your repertoire of potential "boyfriends" : 


1)their lungs are a shade darker, (i mean, foo.)
2) squadron failure: any man standing alone is indeed a pathetic expectation. 
3) crusty cheesy lines will not benefit you once you've gained 10 lbs., or right after he cheats on you. (this is a fact, my fellow lads.) 
4) holding an intellectual conversation in a room filled with genital retards dancing in circles, can't be any more romantic than it sounds. and don't take this for granted: this is NOT sexy body language. it's just not.
5) nightclubs are all about STIMULUS: understand this.appreciate this.write this on a sticky note and stick it to your forehead. 
6) now, with that disclaimer, all of the unnecessary garbage lingo (zzzz) is just that: why sweet talk a woman when 
she CAN'T hear you? 
7) glass of wine: shots: ugly man: more shots: cuter ugly man: groping breasts: tequila: one-night stand. (ladies, don't let your inhibitions fail you.) 
8) men in nightclubs are frequent fliers: they can ONLY add to their mileage by talking to numerous women during the night. when it's your turn, acknowledge this: never feel special. no, i'm sorry. you are NOT one of a kind. You are just ONE of many.(kind of.)
9) stroking his penis with your hips is NON-VERBAL communication gone WRONG. get your ass back to the bar, you dirty SLUT. (not cute.) 
10) oh, and don't equate his dancing skills to his bedroom skills: 'o eh, o eh, o eh, o eh, the rhythm is gonna get you...'


rough.

disappoint me.

yes, you, you masochistic lion. look at you-meddling a little lamb, leaving her tail left behind her, so ms.fuckyoubo beep can race over hillocks (as any shepherdess should) to only find it hung on a tree...suspended....

it's a sad sad world isn't it, for a bad bad girl to be careless with a delicate man. the devil wants to know for she's a criminal in her own imagination, arrested for knowing, for loving, for executing the impossible...for chasing pavements and bending spoons.

and then you raise her. damn you with your cold shoulder, parked in front of you with her tail now bent between her legs, disappointed, barking. it's exhilarating isn't it? we all want to be right as the rain, yet a few of us fear the unattainable. and for what? to bottle one another, to just sit there and hold it for a million years? to go hungry.to go cold.to go blue.to go effortless.to grow regretful.
                             wipe that dirty smile, will you.
,and solve this riddle...if love is black, what color am you?
haphazard        yellow.     lover
so settle with my bones.

this.woman's.work.

so romeo and juliet fall in love. two star-crossed lovers entangle in a tragic romance stretching back to antiquity. romeo courts her during her soliloquy, developing a minor love bite: an addiction he cannot refuse, to say the least.

knock, knock. (come in genesis.) it is he who bears us the tale of adam and eve, commanding them to be fruitful and to multiply, throwing in a tempting serpent slier than every beast of the field. 'let us make man,' here, under the tree of knowledge within the ribs of a woman..."and the eyes of the two of them were opened."

drunk love: the kind of intoxication that seems bearable; the state-of-mind that seems acceptable; a quasi-physiological syndrom of addiction that seems so, ...perfect. i've questioned it before, but is this what 'love' really is? an addiction? when one requires a great amount of substance in order to obtain a desired effect? do the manifestations and tolerance stay the same? allow me to comprehend, for i am puzzled.

i once met a man, his body covered in art so soft and supple. i would kiss his pictures in complete darkness, when i couldn't see them, until i faced a dragon taking him until we were quiet on the sheets. and if by instinct i would glare at his fire throbbing from his throat, speechless yet seared to ashes ...

"oh happy dagger! this is my sheath; there rust, and let me die..." and let me stick you into my mouth, the way i load my pistol pulling back the top barrel loading bullets into fire chambers, as you sit there and watch me inhale.

(because it'll be the biggest god damn breath i've ever had to take.)

what upsets the king upsets me.

what i would do to THIS man...sigh; i'm speechless.

.jagged.little.pill.

mister.duplicity,

does she speak eloquently.

is she perverted like me.

and are you thinking of me when you f*ck her.

alanis sang it, she sang it so damn rigid and raw i can almost wipe the sweat off her top lip every time she screams it.and she screams it so well. so nasty. her tongue is a battle scar for every son of a bitch who ever screwed her; with one hand in his pocket- the other one is smoking a cigarette.

do i stress you out- sitting here begging for deliverance with my t-shirt on backwards, and relentless. i'm tired. let me not repeat myself- im humble by your humble nature.but please stop questioning me.stop giving a damn about me without a permission slip, because i don't recommend signing where your heart gets trembled by anyone. (i certainly don't.)

and why are you so petrified of silence? life has a funny way of sneaking up behind you when you think everything is going wrong, and then everything blows up in your face. you've already won me over. (in spite of me.)

you,

you,

you outta know. this is ironic: we're all a bunch of space cakes-swallowed.naked in a living room.let me not remind you of the mess you left when you went away; when the smoke clears, when the water absorbs.

×īα̣йmu: sτileττo sτonєrs.

it's interesting to think how persistent life really is; four simple letters that can bring any being back to its final destination. you see a man practically slam into a yellow cab, to only find yourself running into death at the nearest intersection, as a certain someone runs a red light. who assigned these colors anyway?

×īα̣йmu: sτileττo sτonєrs.

for i have nothing else to say.

what.do.women.want.

what do women want

by:kim addonizio

i want a red dress.

i want it flimsy and cheap,

i want it too tight, i want to wear it

until someone tears it off of me.

i want it sleeveless and backless,

this dress, so no one has to guess

what's underneath.i want to walk down

the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, past Mr.and Mrs. Wong selling day-old donuts in their cafe, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts overtheir shoulders. i want to walk like i'm the only woman on earth and i can have my pick.

i want that red dress BAD.

i want it to confirm

your worst fears about me,

to show you how little i care about you

or anything except what

i want. when i find it, i'll pull that garment

from its hanger like i'm choosing a body

to carry me into this world, through

the birth-cries and the love-cries too,

and i'll wear it like bones, like skin,

it'll be the goddamned

dress they bury me in.

You Don't Know What Love Is.

by: Kim Addonizio

You Don't Know What Love Is but you know how to raise it in me like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to wash off the sludge, the stench of our past. How to start clean. This love even sits up and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps. Any day now she'll try to eat solid food. She'll want to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive to some cinderblock shithole in the desert where she can drink and get sick and then dance in nothing but her underwear. You know where she's headed, you know she'll wake up  with an ache she can't locate and no money and a terrible thirst. So to hell with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt and your tongue down my throat like an oxygen tube. Cover me in black plastic. Let the mourners through.

hey, it's OK...

*to believe in love at first sight...and then close your eyes.

*to measure your hydration based on the color of your urine, and right when it's super yellow, shake your head in disappointment. 

*to be shady, even when it's so sunny outside.

*to stare until you tear, just because it feels so good to be sad.(forced.)

*to find fate.to follow it.to not care where you end up.

*to love, loathe, and lust in the same moment.

*to give your self away, and then dwell...silently.

*to drink, and then bite.

*to never buy a whole chocolate bar, but instead three mini versions.less fat.less forgiving.

*to be confused for who you are, who you aren't, and for who really cares.

*to stare at your gas light and wonder how far it can take you before you run out.and when you stall do it all over again, because it excites you all over again.

*to believe in lyrics.to memorize them, and then sing them pretending your're talented.

*to be fascinated by the eccentric, the wicked, the utterly voluptious covered in art.

*to be fascinated.

*to have a face you cannot show.

*to re-assure yourself over and over, because this is not who you are.

*to believe humans are the only mammals who propogate, and then die.

*to believe nothing's going to change your world.

*to check your backseat in search of an intruder, and then lock your doors when you slowly creep up to a bum at the light.

*to pretend you're on the phone to get out of situations...and when it rings, swear at it in confusion... damn you.

*to read bbmessages and leave them there...read, and encrypted with a tiny r...and then never reply.

*to remove your birth year on facebook, because you are INDEED getting old.

*to.