Been gone awhile. Watched a documentary about joint venture – whereby a gang member that is there when another kills someone is found equally guilty as if they committed the murder.

Whatever the rights and wrongs of the legal position, human life in this world is in many ways a joint venture. We may be by standers but our culpability in human affairs are not immune from examination.

Some gang members had an issue with getting to crips with the concept. Made me wonder how I would explain tolerance, liberalism, science, secularism to them. I decided the word shit may have to be involved. Hence what follows:

Life is too short to shit on other people’s dreams; accept perhaps when their dreams involve shitting on you in which case pointing out that a waking reality on that front means the shit has hit the fan and they will have a bloody mess to clean up.

I don’t have the answers. That does not grant liscense to people with fantasies about an unpalable reality to fill the void. It may grant a warm fuzzy feeling that feels great. It may well be better for you to have positive thoughts in terms of stress and attitude to life.

You don’t need religion to have a false sense of reality; a distorted sense of events and happenings are part of being human. We all have are an approximation of life, the universe and everything to get by. The shit rule above is just to make sure intrusions into my reality do not add to a grosser distortion then I already have beyond my inability to comprhend the atom or the universe.

So I will not go out of my way to poke you in the eye, or shit on you. Yet allow me to dissent, to say it stinks and why the world may be a better place if we did not pile shit sky high as a modern tower of babel. You need more then that if you want to have peace and harmony – it may involve accepting other people’s shit within reason.

The only thing that may improve is respecting other people’s shit, not forcing your shit on other people or shitting on people’s door step. Because covering the world in each other’s shit is not going to bring a brave new world.

Dealing with shit may.

6 ianuarie

Problemele mele, problemele unei generatii: it’s easy to find shit (drugs), but hard to find good shit! Same w/sex.

8 ianuarie

O zi de stat acasa pe un viscol de-ti ingheta rinichiul numai uitandu-te afara a produs urmatoarea concluzie (ca si ceva vizite interioare prin Encarta):
Nu e adevarat ca suntem prima generatie care nu-si pune probleme. Suntem, in schimb, prima generatie care nu admite ca isi pune probleme.

9 ianuarie

Am luat de la Sfinxa “Nothing Else Matters”. Asta era cantecul meu si al Catalinalinei, fara sa fi stabilit ceva cu voce tare, chiar inainte sa-mi dau seama ca spunea povestea noastra inainte sa se petreaca (“Trust I seek / And I find in you.. si toate fazele celalalte)..
Azi m-am hotarat sa ma las in voia depresiei. Albastra, sigura si sensibila: perfect, serioasa, beata. In gat mi se opreste aerul; merg pe strada de parca as fi beat pentru ca nu mai conteaza; iar zapada pare sa se opreasca in mine cantr-o fundatura. Cine mai are nevoie de viata? Astept, inconstient, sa fiu salvat. Astept miracolul cel imposibil, si e logic ca n-o sa mi se intample. Dar m-am saturat sa ma chinui eu: oricat si orice am incercat, fara speranta si cu speranta, nu s-a intamplat nimic. Vreau ca sa nu mi se mai intample nimic, dar de data asta prin voia mea. Sunt curios de ce o sa se intample. FF curios.

Shit – fuck. Can’t really decide what to do today. But that’s no new thing, I never know what to do. )

I guess I’ll have to choose between cooking my spicy meat-spaghetti, writing for college, writing fo’ my own pleasure, dancing like a freak drunk goose, taking some photos or editing the onez that I have and quietly wait in their folders. Hmm…it’s a long day, I guess I have enough time for all that crap.

Better be going now, otherwise I’m gonna fall asleep on my chair, and that’s not a shit to desire for.

I wish I had a car, doesn’t matter what car, but I would drive, drive, drive, until the end of Earth. d*_*b

See ya, my freakz… ^_^

<<< Walk, walk, fashion baby, work it, move that bitch crazy! >>>

What kind of shit (that happened) most interests you?(polls)

The Wireless connection.

Keep twisting those knobs there guys and you’ll get there eventually or else just press play.

I think the end of the world is near.  It makes me sad, but I think this is it.  What else could explain the absolute shit that is on TV these days.  Celebrity Rehab, Sex Rehab, Paris Hilton’s BFF, Tila Tequila and fuck, even P. Diddy, or whatever the fuck his name is, has a “reality” show.  It’s all friggin crap.  Hogan know’s best, the Hills, people with 8 kids, 16 kids, 32 kids, geez.  What makes this Tv?  It’s like being at the circus watching the freak-shows. 

Right now on showcase there are 2 men in thongs tied together by a harness in the 69 position and they are pounding the shit out of each other’s ass cheeks.  UGH.  Then the guy drools on the other guys leg.  UGH.  It’s as bad as watching poker on TV.  (turned off after 20 more seconds).

It’s no wonder I just stick to sports, Grey’s Anatomy, Ugly Betty, and a ton of cooking shoes and news.

Please, someone come up with something original!!!

WELL — FUCKIN’ A!  THE ASSHOLES AT WINDOWS LIVE APPARENTLY DIDN’T LIKE SOMETHING I POSTED ON ‘MSN MONEY,’ SO THEY BANNED ME FOR A FEW DAYS.  REMINDS ME OF MSN’S ‘NEWSVINE,’ BETTER DESCRIBED AS ‘CENSORVINE.’

MESSAGE TO WANKERS LIVE:  FUCK YOU!

I think if you call someone, they should have the decency to return the call. It seems people have lost their decency these days and as the holidays get closer, the decency level has dropped. Just last week, a woman walked right in front of me and her shoulder clipped mine as she kept walking without even saying a word. I tried to merge on the freeway and almost got sideswiped because the car in the merge lane wasn’t going to let me in.

What is wrong with people? Is it me? I always ask this question first, it’s natural for me to think this thought first. Maybe my expectations for people are too high? Maybe I have unrealistic views of how humans should treat one another? I’m the type of person who will say “bless you” when you sneeze. I’ll ask you if you’d like something to eat or drink when you come to my house. I will let you merge onto the freeway without trying to kill you or your passengers. But I will not put up with rude people who do not have the decency to return phone calls.

You know society has hit an all time low when the mall posts signs in the doorways titled “Common rules of courtesy.”

Having said that, I’m sitting here last night playing channel jockey because I’ve managed to have the most wicked case of insomnia on the fucking planet in the last four days, and have watched everything I’ve TIVO’d… pffft.  Anyway, I’m flipping through the channels and lo and behold, BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN is on, which is one of my favorite movies, not because of the man candy, but because it’s really very well done, and it’s a poignant love story, and not being a homophobe, I can get totally behind anything that is a poignant love story no matter what, and the man candy is just gravy.  So I flip to the channel and being about as punchy as a one legged man in an ass kickin’ contest I start to reminisce about the truly fuckin’ spectacularly fucked up and funny shit I did to me ex-fucktard when he was around, in that last year, and I had nothin’ better to occupy my time with than thinking of truly spectacularly fucked up shit to do to him, because by this time I was waaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy over it and him and wicked resentful that I had been the only responsible, adult in the relationship for the better part of who knows how long.   Anyway, this particular incident is really just a very well played misunderstanding (snort) but I thought it was hysterically amusing…

So, he leaves it to me to choose a movie, right around the time that Brokeback Mountain came out, and I of course wanted to go see this movie having read the short story.  In my defense, truly the fucktard, knowing me like he did, shoulda really known better than to leave the movie picking to me, at that point was probably not a wise move, but what can I tell ya’, stupid is as stupid does… so I buy the tickets online, and over dinner at the restaurant right before the movie the conversation plays out a little like this:

FUCKTARD:   So what are we seeing?

ME:   Well - WAIT FOR IT – we’re seein’ a western… (snort).

FUCKTARD:  Okay, cool.

ME:  Yeah, it should be (snort).

FUCKTARD:  Are you ready to go?

ME:  Yep.

FUCKTARD: Let’s go.

So, we get to the theater and as I expected and hoped there are enough people in line that the fact that a good portion of them are MY GAYS is not really obvious if you don’t know why or what you’re lookin’ for.

So, you’re probably thinking why is this funny?  Well, if you had known my ex-Fucktard, you’d know he was extremely homophobic, and if you know anything about Brokeback Mountain you know it’s rather explicit in certain scenes, although tastefully done by two amazing actors, who just happened to be straight and man candy, but I digress.  If you read up, you should get the joke about the movie being a western (snort) and the fact he had no idea what he was in for…

Anyway, we’re watching the movie, and the heated, whispered conversation goes something like this:

FUCKTARD:  What kind of movie did you say this was?

ME:  It’s a western (snort) – also, the entire row behind us just about had a baby when they heard that crack, and it was everything I could do to not fall over into the aisle rolling around laughin’, and then even more heated…

FUCKTARD:  This is not a western.

ME:  Do you NOT see the two cowboys on the screen doing the dirty (snort)?  DUH! (snort)

FUCKTARD:  (A noise that sounded something like someone had grabbed his junk and pulled the whole thing up over his forehead) No fucking way!! Fuck this shit, I’ll be in the lobby.

ROW BEHIND US OF VERY WELL DRESSED GAY YOUNG MEN:   (snort) (apoplectic laughter)  Snap, oh no he didn’t (snort) (apoplectic laughter)!

ME:  I was pretty much crying’ at this point I was laughin’ so hard…

Anyway, I thought we were all gonna stroke out… I LOVE MY GAYS…

Anyway, I finally composed myself after about 20 minutes or so, and started to collect my shit to leave, and one of the young men leans forward and the conversation goes something like this:

NICE GAY YOUNG MAN:   Oh, honey, that was too much, you’re absolutely fabulous and he’s sooooo not…

ME:  Well, thank you, I am fabulous and I’m pretty much done… enjoy the rest of the movie boys…

You know, I know it was a pretty awful thing to do, but in my defense, you really don’t know the back story and exactly why I was so pissed and resentful at that point, but suffice it to say I had spent the better part of the last 24 months of the relationship playing mother to his midlife crises that was manifesting itself in a second fuckin’ childhood, complete with long board shorts, van sneakers and dirty shirties (t-shirts with dirty sayings – I mean come on, you’re fucking 40 years old), add to that his wicked bad ADD which went in to warp speed (hormonal????) and the fact that I was convinced he was now suffering from bipolar, and you do the math what I was dealing with.   I took care of him as long as I could, to the very best of my ability, but even those most benevolent among us, has her limits, and he took advantage at every opportunity, pushed me right to the limit, and then pushed me over  – I was done…

Anyway, some people just can’t appreciate a good western…

2 decembrie

Nu s-a intamplat nimic nou. Have hope??? WHy bloody shit???
Gandurile mele nu cruta realitatea; o sugruma si ii culpabilizeaza agonia. inainte de a apuca-o de coaiele malaiete si a o arunca pe fereastra larg deschisa, inspre cimitir.
Andreea: ne intelegem perfect, suntem doua fiinte identice, dar… no flame. Why do I feel like I’m going down a step in this relationship in order to grab her by the hand? She’s sexually anxious, and very beautiful; dar nu stiu exact ce ma opreste. Imi place atingerea mainilor ei cand mergem impreuna pe strada. Poate cu nimicuri d-astea ma pacalesc si ma indragostesc. Allright, maybe not.
Possible solutions:
a) I could fall in love with her (likely, with some effort and serioussness from both of us);
b) Dump her (and end up with nothing);
c) Under construction (i.e. no ideas).
Corbu e in pana serioasa cu Monica. Lasand orgoliul la o parte (si faptul ca ea, nu stiu de ce, tot tine la mine) le urez tot ce e mai bine. O sa incerc eu niste metode personale Andrei ca sa ii pun din nou impreuna. Deocamdata i-am recomandat Corbului sa-si faca un jurnal ca mine, ca sa-si curete gandurile. Nu cred sa-l ajute, el nu e genul.
Trebuie sa vorbesc cu Iulia in week-end. Si sa-i dau prima strofa de la Unforgiven II…

Some people are so deep in their shit, they don’t realise it.

…Yeh eerrm well as you can see i just started… Fresh… Like really really … Fresh!… So i have no idea what im doin, im confused dazed and stressed and wondering if this is really worth it but im gonna still try… why?… Cuz im awesome thats why!!!… Plus i dont have anything better do… .. Its either this or watch Ben 10 wid da kids.. so yeh i guess blogging will do…

I should probably start off with a little introduction, but im not gonna bother cuz thats why the ”about” page is there for… so if u do want sum cheesy intro about ma lil life then please feel free to click on it

Im keeping ma first post relatively short cause honestly.. Who the fuck is going to read this? … You?.. why thank you.. and much appreciated .. lol .. but yeh im talking realistically.. its not like a whole heap of people is suddenly gonna know about Bamseland.wordpress.com .. so why bother right.. The long ass post will slowly appear when i know for a fact i got a big audience… so there …

A response to boxcarman123 on YouTube. Bridge!!

We called them curse, bad, opps or naughty words but what are these words? Your kid, let’s say his name is John says [bitch] and you go off saying “John that’s a bad word, don’t say that again!” We missed a few things there, you got to tell him WHY it’s a bad word and HOW COME you don’t want him to say it again. I want to know though….what are all the words of profanity? I consider f*** s*** d*** and motherf*** to be actual profanity words. While ass and bitch to be regular words.

Don’t get me wrong though! Ass, bitch and all the other words are offensive but the difference is the dictionary refers to the other words as being ’swear’ or ‘curse’ words while bitch and ass aren’t.

What do YOU think?

They were all high, and their faces glistened under the cheap florescence that twitched above them. Kyle slipped the glass pipe into his pant leg, feeling it fall to bottom and keeping his wrist on the bulge. Everyone else just kept their hands busy, rubbing and toiling over friction and finger. So how the fuck did you get a black eye? Seth asked Richard, keeping his chin tight to his chest like he does. Richard didn’t say anything, but moved his dirty tongue out of the clamp of chapped jowls as if he would start to speak, but didn’t.

He got it doing something dirty, that’s what. Kyle said behind his square glasses. It’s pretty swollen, when did it happen?

I think like a week ago, Richard said, standing up and tightening his jacket up to his neck. Kyle and Seth stood-up. It hurts like hell, but it gives me street cred’. Kyle and Seth did something horizontal with their lips, but never approached a laugh. It was an old joke.

Seth brought the garage door up and bit, so everyone could lay on their bellies and roll into the sunlight. Kyle went first, then Richard. The two squinted as the concrete that surrounded them in the coldesaque dispersed the sunlight at all angles. The garage door slapped shut, bending slightly in the middle.

We need to check out the Chaparral, Kyle said. It’s this dank forest behind the park – you know what, I think it’s owned by the park. Either way, no one goes back there and there’s this tiny-ass river that goes through it. It’s pretty fucking rad. Richard didn’t have anything to say, and after a bit of breathing billowed between the two, Seth came out. He was running with his short little arms clamped to his tee, panting and grinning.

What the fuck are we doing?! Seth asked all at once.

We’re gonna check out the Chaparral. Smoke the rest of the shit, and who knows, maybe run into some other rats who wanna match bowls. Maybe they got danker shit.

I don’t know, that flake you have is pretty good. It burns like a gold amber. Is that stuff from Ah-dee?

It is most certainly from Ah-dee, and Kyle’s glasses bobbed down to the bump in the middle of his long bridge. His left wrist still focusing and pressing on the pipe and bag. You know what? We can get their through your backyard.

We can?

That’s what I’m thinking. You know how your neighbor’s fence goes all the way to where it drops down to the road? Kyle used his long fingers to convey a cliff, and thinly legs traversing it’s rim. We can just shimmy along the fence and drop down. The Chaparral is just across the street and through a fire exit. I think it’s just another block from there.

We can smoke my shit along the way, Richard confessed.

We can.

Can we get to the back through the side, or are the vines still crazy-shit?

I think we can. If we can’t, then we can just go through the front again.

Next person to say ‘can,’ has to do the whole journey barefoot.

I ‘can,’ Kyle said, kicking off twelves and shoving them in a bush that grew around a mailbox.

Sem palavras, vejam o vídeo e chorem de rir.

This is just a test in order to make shit work… This is just a test in order to make shit work… This is just a test in order to make shit work… This is just a test in order to make shit work… This is just a test in order to make shit work… This is just a test in order to make shit work…

again this shitty rain! I hate it, especially when it shows up right at the moment when it’s least needed! >_<

what should I do now? I how a meeting at 1 pm and I don’t wanna be all soaked under this rain! argh, god give me strength!

Antenna Wilde welcomes special guest blogger, Pretty Poo, from Myspace.com

11/20/09

Llama Poo
by Pretty poo

Let me tell you something about Llama poo, like, something that you probably don’t know. It totally stinks! Llamas have smelly, scruffy brown hair that feels like a dusty old floor mat, one of those tan colored hemp mats that get full of shoe dirt. (Have you ever flipped a hemp floor mat and beat it on the ground? Nothing but dirt and dust!) But ANYWAY, llama poo is the worst smelling poo I’ve ever known, and believe me, The Poo knows her poop!

I was house sitting for this crazy old animal talker. I mean that she talked psychically with the animals, or so she tells people. (But people DO talk psychic with animals, I talk to my cat all the time—and she listens! I say, “Here Sheeba here” (in my mind) and she’ll prance over, then up onto my lap, “Yeay Sheeba!” And she’ll purr in my ear, and I’m pretty sure she’s saying, “Luuuvvvhyuu Rrr.”
So that’s like, psychic communication.) But ANYWAY. This crazy old woman had nine stinking cats who poohed all over the house, and a couple dogs who poohed regular in the yard, and then there was the two llamas, and they poohed in pebbles; big pyramids of poo-pebbles cascading onto the fenced enclosure floor. (And I hate caged animals!) They had nowhere to run! No fun! No one to save them,—except Poo!

I made the decision after catching one whip of that stink… that horribly pungently offensive STANK! Smelling llama poo is like putting your nose under a warm crock-pot of methane and ammonia, you can burn your nose with it, heat the house for a night. They should harvest llama poo instead of drilling oil in foreign countries. Give Poo a chance! But ANYWAY, the llamas natural habitat is not to be enclosed in a 10 x 12 space, and these two llamas were already up to their ankles in ammoniated-methane-poo, so I made the decision to set them free. It was better for them, the environment, and your poor Poo (who has an especially sensitive olfactory system.) You should have seen the look of joy on their camel-like faces!

But those llamas died. I don’t know when they died, just that it wasn’t long after I set them free. I heard about it later on, when the crazy old woman tried to sue me, (until I poohed in a newspaper and rolled it up, snuck into her room while she was sleeping, and left it next to her head on the pillow. She saw it there the next morning, and knew. She knew it was The Poo!) But ANYWAY, I was pretty sad about the llamas, I didn’t realize they had no survival skills in the wild. But don’t judge the Poo, I’m telling you some things you didn’t know—and don’t think that I should feel bad—up yours! The Poo has her pride! Those effing llamas never had it so good as when I set them free. And even though their llama-lives were cut short, remember this: the start that burns twice as bright burns half as long. You’re WELCOME llamas, and PS: your poo stinks!

Truly,
P.P.

: : : : : : : : : : :

Have you ever eaten something so spicy that you’d suck a cock just to get something to drink? The chili that’s been sitting in my refrigerator was like that. Basically, my husband emptied about seven jars of cayenne into a stockpot and added crushed mice to taste. Oh, and mushrooms. We like mushrooms in our chili. In cases like this, we end up with enough food to fill a cheerleader’s well-greased asshole, and we eat it for days. I tend to pull the pot out, set it on the counter, and leave it there while I eat a bowl of sulfur and tiny bones, just in case I want seconds. My husband is convinced that I’m going to get food poisoning.

But I won’t, and neither will you. Food that has been out of the fridge for a while is not lethal. Neither is carpet grit, dust mites or tap water. You all have this idea that “impurities” and “toxins” and “free-radicals” are some kind of microscopic army of ninjas just waiting to deplete your body’s whatever-the-fuck. Half the bacteria you douse your hands in alcohol to kill don’t give a shit about you and your neuroses.

The advent of the vacuum cleaner began the process of shrinking mankind’s collective balls. All of a sudden, it isn’t enough to take the rugs out and hit them with a stick until they look less gray. Now you’ve got to get rid of all the “dirt you can’t see.” We used to give dishes a few swipes with cold water and lye soap and call it good. Now we’re in a state of complete panic if we see “water spots” on a glass. Our nuts are now so small that they’ve migrated into the pelvis, allowing the sack to hang in folds and form the wrinkled twat that has replaced our once virile danglers.

Human beings are animals, and animals are built to live in filth. You know what we’d be doing in the wild? Sleeping in the dirt, motherfucker! With ants! We’d be eating raw meat with hair on it and drinking from green, gelatinous pools. (Think your sister’s panties with less stagnant trucker cum.) A wild human would shit on the ground and let his hair grow into actual dreads and never wash his hands or pits. Basically the most disgusting homeless guy ever + the Canadian wilderness. But you know what? One swing of his healthy, red-blooded crotch conkers and a rabid bear with a 30-foot conjoined shark wouldn’t stand a chance.

If you want huge balls, you’ve got to start eating everything off the floor. And no 5-second rule bullshit. It needs to sit there until it’s stuck in the carpet fibers. Refuse all vaccines and sit directly on every toilet seat you can find. When someone sneezes, run over immediately and rub your face all over him. And if he’s already thrown the coveted mucous out in a tissue, retrieve it and lick up the manliness. You’ll need that hearty immune system when you’re trolling for gutter whores with your enormous bag hanging out the back window.