How Did THAT Happen?

If you're here for funny, well, you might want to wait until my next post. This is a [semi] srs bsns post.

SO.

Yesterday (actually it was a month ago), January 18th at about 10:25pm, my best guy friend who I will fondly call Fuzzle asked me out.

Here's a gratuitously flattering picture of us:

Yes, men are interested in me.... sometimes.

And no, I'm not going to get all googly eyed about it.

The thing about this situation is that I've never actually had a real boyfriend before, which shouldn't come as a surprise to any of you.

If you've read The Not So Tragic Love Life of Kate Awkward: Part 1 and 2 (yes, the numbers are links), you'll know there is a very good reason why none of my relationships have lasted.

Dear people who manage distance relationships, 

Hats off to you. 

<segue> </segue>

So, obviously, I'm shocked this happened.

A small portion of me thinks that Hell will rain down from the Heaven's tomorrow in the form of millions of Chuck Norrises riding mutant, flame-winged butterflies that have scorpions flying out their orifices.

The other portions are calling that one a neurotic mess.

I talked to my roommate's boyfriend, who I will refer to as Brother, about the situation (even though I was afraid to tell him in the first place, since if I was going to fail I didn't want that many people to witness it) to see what advice he could give me.

Brother told me the best thing to do is talk and listen. Also, meet in the middle, don't give or take too much.

This is all really good advice, in my opinion, but I don't know any better. Though, judging on the fact that he and my roommate have been dating for two three years now makes me believe that they've got something right.

I just don't understand him. Fuzzle, I mean.

I'm a neurotic, high-strung, quite-possibly-bipolar baggage sack who desires to grow temporary facial hair and has a workaholic attitude.

How he finds this even slightly attractive will forever elude me.

He's just too good. It makes me suspicious of trickery- that God is pulling a prank on me and all of a sudden Fuzzle will vanish and I'll hear, "LOL, Punk'd!!" from the Heavens.

Though, that's just the doubt speaking.

BUT, Fuzzle thinks we'll be all right and he hasn't been wrong yet.

I hope for the best. I'm keeping my hands together in prayer and hoping that life won't make me go crazy or make a bus driver go crazy and run me over in a fit of vaporous madness.

I mean, look how happy we are.

What's this? No irony? Oh, how I've fallen.

Get over it. I don't have to please you.

Wish me luck!

Peace off.

Stop Doing Drugs

Warning: The following post is a hotbed of bad metaphor and copious amounts of poorly grounded [angry] opinion.

All right. I'm going to subject you to another rant because that's how I roll.

I'm not making you read this. I just wrote it in hopes for sympathy.

That's my alibi and I'm sticking to it.

Subject of the Rant:

RALPH. WALDO. EMERSON.


I don't know if you know who that is, but he's a Romantic poet who looks like this:

But, honestly, when I look at him, I see this:

(Art copyright to R-Ninja) 

It's not that he's a bad writer or that he doesn't have good things to say, but... I can't take him seriously. 

When I read his works, specifically The Poet, I just sit there and marvel at his ability to not make any coherent sense at all. 

He has a lot of really good maxims and sayings that people can use, but it seems like when he writes he's writing for exactly that purpose. His writing generally goes as thus:

 Awesome Saying fluff fluff fluff fluff Awesome Saying fluffity fluff fluff BAMF Poetic Saying, et cetera. 

There isn't an over arching point to what he's saying.

It's similar to the person who talks just because they like to hear themselves talk- pointless and annoying. 

If you're getting affronted by my hatred of all things Emerson, I'm sorry.

I know I'll never be as famous or renowned as he is, and frankly, I'm all right with that.

Being a hobo was my aspiration in life anyway. 

And tearing people down builds my self esteem. [Taste the Sarcasm.]

Yeah, that's all I got for this one. I seem to run out of steam fairly quickly when I rant.

Probably has something to do with my short term memory and lack of attention span. 

Happy Valentine's Day, you drug addicts. 

Peace Off.