Sometimes I Write

While your family's growing
Mine's shrinking away
Shriveling to nothing
Isn't that what they say?
The seasons are changing
The colors are gone
We're eating our heartbreak
We're feasting on blood
The words in our mouths
Are filling the room
Death in inevitable
Our souls extinct soon
We're using our love
As weapons in battle
Family is forever?
I always knew you a liar
We're leaving each other
We say our goodbyes
I can feel the hate
Emanating from your eyes
You know what they say
Isn't love is blind?
But you see my faults
Your love is a lie

To the Titan

Dear Titan,

Today, I pulled into work from my lunch, and there you were. A beautiful red Titan truck, parked like an asshole. Both of your tires were over the yellow line, and you had not a care in the world.

At first, I was so angry. There were so many bitter thoughts running through my head. Why would such a beautiful creature act in such an ugly manner? Why?

I thought, maybe it's not your fault. Maybe you were raised in a way as to show no consideration for anyone, in any situation ever, especially when there is limited parking and, when someone takes up 2 spaces like you did, someone else has to park in fucking Africa and walk 700 miles to get to work. Good job, Titan.

Maybe you were raised right, and you're an asshole by choice. Did you wake up this morning, and think to yourself, 'Today I want to make someone park in Africa'? Did you? That's not a very nice thing to do, my Titan. You should be ashamed.

Now, as I sat in my Hyundai, stewing in my anger, I thought to myself, 'You know. Cars don't really NEED an entire parking space.' So slowly, steadily, I eased myself into the fraction of a space that you had provided.

But don't you worry. I made sure that there was enough room for me to comfortably ease myself out of the car. You, on the otherhand, might have some troubles. You see, I made sure that I left your truck without scratches. I did not, however, make sure that there was enough room to get your door open.

You're welcome, Titan.

Also, you can go fuck yourself.

Sincerely, Shaye and her Hyundai.

Karma

Fuck. Karma. Can I just say that right now? I just had the worst thing happen to me.

So Andrew and I play a game called 'Your Team.' You pick ugly people, and put them on the other persons team. It's pretty much like pointing to someone and saying 'you have to have sex with them.'

So anyways.

I'm really fucking good at this game. I have an entire album on Facebook dedicated to Andrew's team. Here is one.

So, normally I'll come across them on Pinterest, but sometimes, I'll do a google search. Today, I wanted to do a google search.

I typed 'Obese slutty' thinking it would come up with fat girls dressed in slutty outfits, looking disgusting.

Nope.

First picture that pops up is a fat girl vagina.

Mind you, I am at fucking work when this happens.

And then my Internet Explorer freezes up. (Don't judge me, I have to use Internet Explorer at work.)

So here I am, with a fat girls vagina FROZEN on my computer screen.

Fuck. My. Life.

So I turned off the monitor. It was the only thing I could do. When I turned it back on, Internet Explorer had shut down. Thank God.

I almost died.

Luckily, most of my coworkers were already out of the office for the day, and no one saw the oversized porn on my desktop.

And, luckily for Andrew, I gave up my search for fatties to add to his team today.

In case you're wondering, my face is still a very bright shade of red.

Share This Blog or You Will Die

I recently wrote a post about my addiction to Facebook. As you know, I'm on there 24/7, reading, stalking, posting, and judging. There are some things that bug the fuck out of me, and they need to be talked about.

First, why the fuck is there an 'it's complicated' relationship status? If you aren't in a relationship, you're single. There is no 'it's complicated.' It's fucking bull shit. And if you aren't sure whether or not you're together, you aren't together. Simple as that. If you're having problems in your relationship, don't fucking advertise it by saying 'it's complicated.' That's a bunch of childish bullshit and it needs to stop.

If you're having a fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband/friend/child/parent, don't fucking post it on Facebook! The only thing you are doing is asking for attention, and for people to take your side, and that is a dick move. Grow up, and tackle your problems with them, not the public.

Share this in 10 seconds on 10 status' or something bad will happen to you in 2 days. No it fucking won't. And if you believe it will, then you need to grow up and realize that it's just a fucking picture! Jesus.

If you post a status about something that's upsetting you, and someone asks 'what's wrong?' and you reply, 'I'll message you,' I'm going to delete you. If it's a private matter that you don't want people to know about, then don't fucking post ANYTHING about it!

"Like this if u love ur mom.' 'Like this if I'm pretty.' 'Like this if you hate cancer.' Fucking. Stop. We all know you love you're mom, and that you're an attention seeking whore who hates cancer. These pictures are cluttering up my newsfeed, and wasting everyone's time. You don't have to like a picture to tell your mom you love her. How about instead, you call her and tell her you fucking love her!

Stop posting pictures of your tits, ladies. You look like a slut.

Oh, and that goes for duckface, as well. It doesn't make your lips look more voluptuous, it just makes you look ugly and slutty and no one wants to see that.

Everyone has their bad days, including me. Sometimes I let people know. But not all the fucking time. Stop being so god damned negative all the fucking time. Nobody is going to come to your rescue. How about, instead of making everyone think you're a desperate sad loser, you show people that there are good things in your life. I promise, you will get way more friends doing that, than you will telling us all how sad and lonely you are. Nobody cares.

Now. Share this blog or in 10 days, I'm going to kill you in the middle of the night with the knife I used to butter my toast this morning.

25 and Obese

The other day I went and swam some laps. I had looked in the mirror, and realized that all of my muscle had melted into fat, and I was on the downward hill to obesity. My six pack had turned into a pillow, and my thighs of steel had changed to thunder thighs. If I didn't change something, I was going to be obese by the age of twenty-five.

Now, changing my exercise and diet was not as easy as I had hoped. I had a routine. Wake up, shower, eat, get ready, eat, go to work, eat all day long, go home, eat, and go to bed. There was obviously no room for exercise of any kind in my day. I was going to have to rearrange some things.

I got up at 4:45, and was at the pool at 5 in the morning. I swam some laps, and was finished in time for my normal routine to start. But then I realized something. If I really wanted to change my body, I was going to have to change my eating habits, too.

Fuck.

I don't like salad. I don't like anything green, or healthy. I like candy. I have an entire drawer in my filing cabinet at work devoted to candy. I can't just waste it all!

So I started advertising it. I told my coworkers about my candy stash, and told them to have at it.


I wish this was possible.



Unfortunately, I work with a bunch of healthy fuckers who haven't even toughed it. Are you fucking joking? If someone told me there was a drawer of candy that needed eaten, I'd have it gone in five minutes. Nope, not these guys. They want apples and salads and 'a healthy lifestyle.' Bull shit. So do I , and that's why I'm getting rid of my candy. Can't you help me out a little bit?

So, while my candy sat there, untouched, I came up with a plan. If I eat it all now, there will be none left later! Hallelujah, praise the lord. I am the smartest person on the fucking planet.

So, I've been eating candy to the point of projectile vomiting for the past week. Unfortunately, I am not even halfway done with it. Slowly but surely, the candy will soon disappear, and I can move on to a healthier life.

Did I tell you that I also stopped going swimming?

Does anyone know a good plus sixed store? I'm gonna be needing it soon.

LIfe is a Beautiful Struggle

First off, I just want to say that my thoughts go out to those in Boston today. Stay strong, you will get through this.

Now. Today, I am going to write about me.

The other day, someone told me that they were jealous of my life. They said I always seem so happy. I have a perfect boyfrind (yes, I do) and I'm so mature and grown up. She wishes SHE lived on her own like me, and was doing so well.

I am going to clear this up for you.

For those of you who think I am doing well, I will tell you that, for the most part, I am. But everyone has something hiding behind closed doors.

I have not lived at home for over 2 years. I had moved out at the beginning of the 2nd semester of my senior year, and this has hindered me so greatly. I almost didn't graduate high school because I was working 2 jobs, and working almost 40 hours a week at each one. That equals an 80 hour work week, and full time school. This is not possible to do, without failing in at least one aspect. I am so so grateful to have pulled through and graduated.

I am not financially stable, as you may think. I am not as bad off as many, but for me, even a small debt weighs on my mind greatly. I have doctor bills, insurance, a car payment, utilities and rent. This doesn't include gas for my car, or food, or any 'fun' things.

I am 20 years old and have yet to go to college. This is something that I am not proud of, and think about so much. I want so badly to get into school and start working towards my future in the medical field. But as I explained above, I am not in the financial position to do so.

I will not lie to you. I love my life. I am so proud of how far I have come, and all of the obstacles I went thtrough on the way. I learned so much, and have gotten so strong because of them. I have an amazing boyfriend-who is probably the only perfect thing about me-and, despite all of the things above, I can say that I am happy where I am. Yes, there are setbacks in my life, and things that I wish were different. But who knows what kind of a person I would be if I didn't have to struggle with something, and work for the things that I have.

I have had my struggles, just as everyone does. So before you compare your life to someone else, you need to realize that they have their struggles, too. Just because they don't advertise them, or they are different from yours, does not mean that they aren't struggling as well.

I am lucky to have such wonderful people in my life to help me through these things. I am lucky to be where I am, and despite everything that's gone wrong in my life, there are many more things that have gone right. And for that, I am thankful.

This Girl

Today I saw this girl.

She was disgusting.

And I can't stop thinking about her.

Let's start with her make-up. She had at least 1/2 bottle of liquid foundation on, covered with powder, which was layered with blush. As if the amoung of make-up was not bad enough, she had not blended it onto her neck. So there was a very distinct line where it ended, and her actual face began. She had fake eyelashes, drawn on eyebrows, red lip stick, and black eye shadow.

You think that's bad?

She had fake-baked so much that she looked like a leather saddle. I am not even sure if her skin was loose enough to bend her fucking elbows.

She was wearing a mini-skirt and hooker heels, and her hair was so ratted that I'm not even sure how it was possible. Oh, and it was dyed black. Not like, normal black. But the kiind of black that has that blue tint.

Now this is what I don't understand. How in the fuck does she think that looks good? How? And what is she going to do when she starts dating someone, and they see her without her make-up and run for the hills because she looks completely different? And who would be attracted to that in the first place??

Ladies who do this, please stop. I don't understand why everyone feels they have to be so plastered with make-up and gunk all the time. That's not attractive, it's gross. NO guy wants someone who is completely fake! They want to see you. Not your make-up.

I know, I know. I'm not a guy. How do I know this? Becuase every fucking guy I've dated has complimented me on the fact that I don't wear a shit ton of make-up. And every single one has told me how gross it is when a girl is wearing so much make-up that it comes off if you give her face the slightest of touches.

Now. Step away from the lip stick, and feel beautiful with your own skin. Make-up is for enhancing, not covering.

And hey. You're beautiful.

Puppy Hungry

As you all know, we are getting a kitten. Here's a picture.

It's a cute little thing, but it's not a dog. And I am a dog person.

Now, the more I think about this little fact, the more I want another dog.

The desire to have another dog is slowly killing me from the inside out. I can taste it, and feel it, and I can just imagine a little puppy stumbling across the ground while Tito chases it.

I can't handle it. I need a puppy.

I want to raise it from puppy until it gets too old to get up the stairs.

I want puppy breath in my face in the morning.

Tito needs a brother or sister. Rigth now.

My dreams are haunted with visions of puppies.

As if all of this isn't bad enough, my friends just got a puppy, and brought it over to our house to play. And I fell in love. She was soft and sleepy and cuddly and the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen.

I want a puppy. And I need one. And I don't care what Andrew and Lindsey say, I will get one.

I Want...

Everyone has a 'bucket list.' But I fucking hate the term 'bucket list' and instead, I have a 'things I want to do with my life' list.

I want to share this with you. Yes, I know that some of these are unrealistic and maybe even impossible. But you know what? Fuck that. I do what I want. And these are the things I want to do.

1. Own a business. (This is a goal that Andrew and I share, which makes it twice as likely.)
2. Skydiving
3. Own a puppy for its whole life
4. Visit at least 5 foreign countries (Australia and Africa are both the most important.)
5. Grow out my hair
6. Donate my hair
7. Dye my hair blonde, just to see what it looks like
8. Skinny Dipping with my love
9. Go to a karaoke bar, and actually sing karaoke (no matter how bad it is)
10. Get married
11. Adopt my children
12. Move to another country
13. Go to college
14. Buy a brand-new car
15. Have at least one blog post go viral
16. Learn to cut hair
17. Teach Tito a trick (which has thus far proven impossible)
18. Learn to love something I hate
19. Get my six-pack back (in progress)
20. Swim with an elephant
21. Go scuba diving in the coral reef
22. Tip my waiter/waitress over $100
23. Be debt free-even if it's only for 5 minutes
24. Become successful
25. Go at least one year without eating out
26. To fall in love with the same person, every day for the rest of my life. I love you Andrew. Thank you for helping me start this one.

These were listed in no particular order, and these are not all of my goals. They are just some of the ones that I can list off of the top of my head, and the ones that are the most important to me.

I really feel like having goals-big or small-is a very important thing as a person. It gives us something to strive and live for. And these are the things I live for.

My Friend Was Attacked by an Elvis Impersonator

When I was in high school, I was a competitive swimmer. I joined my freshman year, when I was still in junior high. My friend Lindsey also joined, and we became best swimming friends. And real life friends. General best friends all around.

Every day, we would get out of class early. (Practice started at 2:30, and school ended at 3... It wasn't possible to go to class and partake in high school sports... Never mind the fact that our couch said we could come late due to school. No one has to know that little secret.) We would meet at our school commons, and walk to the pool, which was only a couple of blocks away.

Now, our city swimming pool is located at the edge of the city park, which has a pond, which a fuck ton of ducks have built their home in (as well as various hobos). Most of the ducks were friendly. They wouldn't shy away from you as you walked past, but instead would check you out, trying to see if you were carrying a stale loaf of bread to munch on. When they established you weren't, they would go on their way.

Like I said. This was for most of the ducks. Except one. The Elvis duck.

His name fits him. He was fat, and mean, and his feathers stuck up on his head in a way that made him look like he was impersonating Elvis.  He had beady little eyes that glared into your soul, searching for bread without even looking at your hands.

This duck was the epitome of evil...  One day, as we were walking, this duck went bat-shit-fucking crazy. Out of nowhere, it attacked. Fortunately for me, I was not the target. Lindsey was.

She saw it coming. She immediately started running, and screaming her lungs off. This duck was out for blood, and she knew it. She dropped her bags and ran, while I stood behind, laughing my ass off. Here we are, minding our own business, when out of nowhere, Lindsey gets attacked by Elvis.

I grabbed her bags, and met up with her, where she had managed to shake him off. We looked over our shoulders, and we saw him. He was there.

Watching.

Always watching.

I Am An Addict

I have a serious addiction to social media. This is no joke. I browse Facebook all day long, hoping and praying that when I hit 'refresh', there will be a new status or picture for me to feast my eyes upon.

Now, when all that shit was going down with equal rights, I was getting really heated about the things that my Facebook friends were posting. This is something I have no control over, but it was pissing me off. I knew that I was going to lose control if I kept seeing what I was seeing. So, I deleted my Facebook.

Deleted.

Fucking. Dead.

This was a big thing for the girl who hasn't actually been logged off of her page for months. I immediately regretted my decision. 'Stay strong,' I told myself. I would get through this. I would rather go without Facebook and keep my friends, than to keep it and end up offending everyone I know.

Now, when you have an addiction, it's a serious problem. You have to have it. I needed to see what everyone was saying. I had to know who was liking and commenting on my things. I needed it. The desire coursed through me, and I had to fight to keep myself from reactivating. It had only been five minutes since I hit 'delete.' This is a problem.

This was when I realized how truly addicting it was to read about everyone's fake lives that they wanted the internet to believe was actually what they were living. I knew what I was reading wasn't true. I knew no one really had a perfect family and at least one thing had to have gone wrong at their wedding. But I couldn't bring myself to stay away from the lies. If I had the choice, I would straight up inject Facebook into my veins. I needed a 10-step program.

That's when I was told to get a Tumblr. What a great idea! I thought for sure this would at least help to fill the void that Facebook had left in my heart. So I got to creating my page.

Readers, Tumblr is the most confusing fucking thing I have ever tried to do. It doesn't tell you the steps to creating your page, like every other fucking social media sight does. Oh, no. You create it, and you're treated as if you've had a Tumblr for years. They expect you to have full knowledge of the site before you even log on. For me, this was not the case.

It's been over a week and I still don't know what I'm doing. I had one follower, and she gave up because she couldn't figure it out, either.

Fuck you, Tumblr.

And for those of you wondering, I went 24 hours before I reactivated my Facebook. And boy, is it good to be home.

Festival of Colors 2013

Saturday was the festival of colors, and let me tell you, it was absolutely amazing!

We left the house around 9:30 in the morning, and it took almost 2 fucking hours to get there. Which sucked ass, but it was totally worth it. The parking was insane, and we ended up having to walk over a mile to get to the temple grounds where it was held. As we were walking up, they had the first color throwing. We could barely see it in the distance, but there was a huge cloud above the grounds, of all of the colors! It was amazing. 

 

We finally got there, and by the time we did, we were already half covered in colors. People that had already been there were walking past us and throwing colors on us. Some random ass girl smacked my back and left a perfect handprint. Whoever you are, thanks. You're awesome.

We got our colors, and immediately started throwing them at eachother. The first handful Andrew threw went right up my nose, and my eye was watering the entire time because it burned like a mother fucker. Whatever.

So we go down to the pit of people, listening to the music that was playing and jumping around, and that's where we were for the second color throwing. They counted down from ten, and the minute it was time to throw, there was a cloud of chalk so thick I couldn't see Andrew... And he was grabbing my arm.

It was such a fun experience, and something I will definitely do again in the future!

There's A Cat In My Future

Cats are the devil, and I fucking hate them. Maybe it's because I used to be allergic to them. Maybe it's because my cat Kira that I had when I was little scratched my eyeball. I don't know. But I fucking hate them.

They always smell like cat poop. Dogs have a distinct dog smell, and their shit has a smell, but they don't smell like their shit. Cats, on the otherhand, always smell like they just rolled in their own feces before parading around the house.

The crawl everywhere. Tito jumps on you, and sits on your face, but he doesn't jump on the kitchen counters. He isn't going to pounce on me from on top of the bedroom door. A cat will do those things. Get outta the kitchen, cat, that's the women's territory.

Tito doesn't growl. He only barks when someone knocks. Cats his, and claw you, and they are just so fucking mean. They don't love you like a dog was. If my house was on fire, Tito would try with all his might to drag me out. A cat? It would run the fuck away and never come back, except to munch on my lifeless body. Cats are heartless.

Now, the reason I have told you this is because Andrew and I are getting a kitten. I don't know why I'm doing this, other than the fact that I am blinded by love, and have no control over my actions at this point. But he loves kittens and cats and I just want him to be happy.

Anyways, we're going to look at them today, and I just don't know how to feel about it. Part of me is excited because, whether I want to admit it or not, kittens are cute. And Tito loves kittens. It will be good for him to have a friend.

Another part of me is wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life. Why can't I just grow some balls and say 'no cats!' But I can't. I can't do it. I cannot bring myself to crush all of Andrew's hopes and dreams. Maybe he really does wear the pants.

Now, maybe this wouldn't be so bad, but both him AND my roommate want a black cat... What? I fucking hate black cats the most. They look evil. With their beady little eyes... Ew. It gives me the creeps.

So, hopefully today goes well, and we can decide on a kitten that's white, or black and white. Not black. Fuck.

I'm High

So, I have a problem. I have cysts on my ovaries. They have been causing severe pain for weeks now. Today is no different. But I missed work yesterday because of the pain, so I couldn't call in again. So what did I do?

I took a Lortab.

Before coming to work.

My head is floating.

There were literally five minutes when I kept calling myself 'shank' instead of 'Shaye.'

I know what's going on, but I have no control.

The drive to work was absolutely beautiful.

I want nachos.

This was the worst idea I've ever had. Just kidding. I'm so fucking happy right now.

Women Wear the Pants

Women. They think they know everything. Women have been breaking the rules. They've been breaking out and leaving the kitchen. They've abandoned their sandwich stations. They've started talking back and getting jobs. What happened to the good ol' days, when dinner was ready when you got home from work? It seems so long ago...

It started slow, one day you came home and dinner wasn't ready on time. You let it slide, thinking it was just a one-time event. This, men, is where you went wrong. You should have put your foot down, then! You should have showed her that there are no excuses, dinner is to be ready when YOU want it to be ready! And now, it's too late.

Some weeks later, you go into the office, and there, sitting in Bob's desk, is a woman. At first you think nothing of it. Maybe it was his wife, because he forgot his lunch. And then something funny happens.. She doesn't leave. Bob's name tag is replaced with one that says "Sally," and every day, Sally keeps showing up in Bob's place. All the time, you worry. Who's making her husband's sandwiches? Who's cleaning the house and caring for the kids? How can this be happening?

It doesn't stop there. Soon women are in corporate offices. They're learning to fly planes and going to college. They're taking over the world! You panic, and start thinking back... You remember the first time your wife said, "make your own sandwich," and quietly wonder why you hadn't done anything about it back then, when you had the chance. You could have stopped this! You could have done something before it was too late!

Now, as you lay on the couch, wondering how it was that the woman got the power to make you sleep on the couch, you reminisce about the days when your loving and caring wife was still with you. Who is this woman who has taken over your home? Where did she come from? You stare down at the hole in your pants, and wonder how it was that she said 'no' to you when you told her to fix it for you. The more you think about it, the more you realize... It's too late. This has gone too far, and it cannot be fixed. Oh, how your father would be ashamed if he knew that your lady was controlling the household. You know that there are no options. This cannot be fixed.

You slowly slip into a slumber, hoping and praying of good dreams, ones that will tell you how to cope with this new realization. Instead you dream of being alone. There is no hope for you. The women have taken over your throne.

*This blog does not reflect my personal views on how men or women should be treated. I just think that sexist jokes are funny.*

The Day I Almost Died

First off, I fucking love all of you. I want you to know that, in case something happens to me. Now, maybe this seems random, but it's not. I had my very first near death experience the other day, and I have my roommates to thank for that.

I grew up a WARHEAD virgin. While all my friends were eating them and raving about how awesome they were, I stayed far away from them. Don't get me wrong, I love sour candy. However, the look on someone's face as they were eating a WARHEAD was enough to convince me to never eat one. Ever.

When I walked into the house one day to find some sitting on the counter, I quickly averted my gaze and set about my daily routine. I had no interest in trying one, and soon forgot they were even there. Unfortunately, my roommates did not.

Lindsey: "Shaye, do you want a WARHEAD?"

Me: "Uh.. No. I've never had one."

At this point, both her and Andrew threw a fit. How could anyone go their entire 20 years of existence without trying a WARHEAD? This thought baffled both of them. It was like I was some deprived child from Africa who had grown up starving and fighting for my life. I think they over-exaggerated a bit. They will disagree.

Now, normally I am not one to give into peer pressure. That's a lie, I cave instantly. But not when it comes to food! I am very picky, and I do not like when I eat something unpleasant. For me, that is one of the worst experiences a person can have, and it's something that stays with you forever. Now, I don't know why this day was any different, but it was. I caved to their persistent pressure to eat a fucking WARHEAD. This was the biggest mistake of my life.

When I said I would try one, they were both so excited. They handed me a yellow one, which, being a WARHEAD virgin, I had no idea that yellow is the worst. I unwrapped it and popped it into my mouth. 'Not too bad,' I thought. And then it hit me.

It was like a waterfall of sour torture hit my tongue, oozing from the inside of this candy. And it wouldn't fucking stop. The minute it hit me, my face contorted into a mix of sour and pain, and my eyes started watering. When the sour-ness wouldn't stop, the tears continues to flow. I was crying because of a piece of fucking candy. How can something so small cause so much fucking pain?? My mouth started salivating, causing me to drool on myself. I thought I was going to die.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The candy turned into a harmless little lemon head, and I was stuck sitting there, wondering what had just happened. One moment, my life was flashing before my eyes, as I helplessly sat there, and one moment everything was back to normal, as I stared into the amused faces of Lindsey and Andrew.

I learned a lesson from all of this. I hate WARHEADS, and never again will I put my life into the hands of my evil roommates. Nor will I ever indulge in a WARHEAD again.

Conversationally Retarded

I am a social butterfly. I am one of those people who, when shoved into the middle of a group of people, will befriend everyone in that group (aside from the slutty bitch who gives me the stink eye. I don't want to be her friend). I can be shy sometimes, when I know that the first impression matters. For example, when I meet the family of the person I'm dating, or when I start a new job and am trying to get along with all of my co-workers. But, for the most part, I can enter a conversation and get everyone to laugh and love me forever. Unfortunately, this is not always the case.

I have a problem controling my fucking mouth. No, I don't mean watching my language. Surprisingly, I'm able to keep that under control when needed. The problem is that I'm a rambler. Once I get started, my conversation has no limits, and eventually I'm forced to stop talking by the appalled look on the other person's face, causing me to realize that I had just crossed the invisible boundaries of 'things you shouldn't say out loud'. I think back, and realized how many times I'd talked about poop, or some other form of inappropriate conversation, and then think to myself, 'shit. I shouldn't talk to people like that.'

This causes problems in my life. For example, I once went to church with a kid I was dating, and started talking to his bishop. The conversation started out innocent, we introduced ourselves and made small talk with the weather. And then he asked me a question about my work. At the time, I worked at a pool, so I started telling him about lifeguarding and such. By the time I'd finished rambling, I was on the subject of cheating boyfriends and bitches I hated. And yes, I said bitches to him. Needless to say, I never returned to church with him again.

Another example? Today, one of my coworkers asked me about the people that have been stealing my food, and if I'd made any progress in my investigation in finding out who it was. I started talking, and by the time I was done, I was ranting about how no one has any respect for anyone or anything anymore, and I wished that parents would control their children in Wal-Mart. I stopped and looked at him, at which point he said, "Uh... I uh.. Have to go back to work. Bye."

I am conversationally retarded. I really should get some self control, otherwise I am slowly going to drive everyone away with my lack of conversation control. Maybe I should take conversation etiquette classes. Do they even have those? If not, someone should start some. I would, but obviously I am not fit to instruct others on how to hold a basic conversation. Someone, please help me.

Facebook Famous

Hey guys. We officially have a Facebook page! Like it and love it, bitches.

Just search Life as Shaye, and like it!

I love you all, and thank you so much for reading my blog! It makes me so happy to make you happy!

I'll keep everyone updated as far as when a blog is posted, as well as milestones we hit. (like today when we hit 3000 followers!)

Victory At Last

If you are a faithful blog reader, then you probably read my post about how I always lose at everything. Really, everything. Well, last night, I finally got my victory, and it was in the best possible way.

For almost the entirety of our relationship, Andrew and I have had a wet-willy war.  Yes, I know, maybe that's weird. But, it's us, and it happened. Now, considering the fact that I am much smaller than Andrew, it was extremely easy for him to pin me down and give me a double wet-willy the minute the wars started. That's how it went, every fucking time. Oh, and the worst time? He pinned me down, stuck his finger in MY mouth, and gave me one with my own fucking spit!

Now that you have heard that, it will be easier for you to comprehend how victorious I was last night. Really. It was fucking awesome, and I deserve a medal. Or five.

So I got home from work, and I was hanging out with Andrew, Jared, and Lindsey, and Andrew casually licked his finger and tried to give me a wet-willy. Unfortunately for him, I have some crazy fast refelexes (this is a lie) and I dodged his attempt. The fighting continues for a bit before I saw my chance.

He was on the couch, hands by his side. I jumped on him, pinned down his arms with my knees, and that's when I did it. I gave him a double wet-willy, and finished off by giving him one with his own spit.

I was so excited, and this was probably the greatest moment of my entire fucking life. And then, Andrew stuck his nasty sock foot in my mouth, and I almost vomitted.

The End.

Love

Today I want to talk about love, and about the person who taught me that, no matter what, love is worth it. If you don't like sappy, romantic stories, then you can stop here. Shit's about to get sappy.  

You all know about Andrew, my boyfriend. I've mentioned him before, and many of you know us personally. He is the love of my life.

I had a conversation with one of my friends the other day. She told me that she didn't want to fall in love, because she didn't want to have to go through the pain of losing them. I can understand that point of view, because there was a point in my life when I thought the same thing. I'd been hurt, cheated on, I'd seen divorce, and I just didn't want to engage in those feelings again. I didn't have a boyfriend that lasted more than a few weeks. The first two serious relationships I had both burned me and hurt me, and I honestly had given up. I didn't want to go through that again. And then I met Andrew, and for me, everything changed.

I was at a point in my life where I was happy with myself, and the way my life was going. I was independent, and had no plans of getting in a relationship with anyone. But from our first date, I knew that he was different. I knew that I would love him, and I knew that he wouldn't hurt me. I don't know how, but I knew.

It's been almost a year since we first met. Yes, I know that to many of you, that isn't very long. But I can tell you, that no matter how many hard times I had, and no matter how hard I struggled, it has been the best year of my life. I met Andrew, and he made everything worth it.

I fell in love with him so fast, and it hit me hard. I have never been this happy, and I honestly didn't know it was possible. And I wasn't the only one who knew. "You glow when you look at him." That's what my dad said when he saw us together, and my dad was not an easy man to please when it came to the boys that I dated. From the minute people saw us together, they knew that we were perfect. And so did we.

I won't lie, I have thought about what I would do if I were to lose him, and certain circumstances in my life have made this thought more prominent in my mind. What would I do without the love of my life? I can tell you that I don't know. I don't know what I would do. But I do know that I would be ok. That no matter what happens, I know that I would make it through. Why? Because I know that I have my love for him, and his love for me. I know that we have something special, and that no matter where life takes us, I will always have that. I honestly believe that it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. I know that the time that I have with him is special, and that these memories will last forever, and so will our love.

Now, I am not predicting that Andrew is going to die, because, let's face it, I honestly believe that he is invincible and that he's going to live forever. I don't ever want to lose him, and I don't ever plan on losing him. He is my rock, and I have an endless amount of love and adoration for him. He's simply not allowed to die. And we all know I wear the pants, so what I say goes. Isn't that right, babe?

Anyways, I want you all to know, that if you are scared to love and lose, don't be. Because the love that you have will be worth it. I am so happy to have Andrew in my life, and I couldn't ask for anyone better. Everyone should experience a love like this. Everyone should find someone that is so perfect for them, someone who shows them how beautiful life can be, and who makes them feel something that is so strong, it is undescribable.

I love you Andrew. Thank you for coming into my life, and changing it forever. I am so excited for our future together, and I know that it will be utterly amazing. You are my best friend, and the love of my life, and I couldn't ask for anything better.

And thank you to Maryveil and Steven for introducing us. You guys fucking rock.