June 24, 2007
Never Trust a Fairy Godmother or Acid bought on the streets of Cali
Posted by Keva under UncategorizedNo Comments
Blog; I’m trying to write one every week to keep up on writing and since my job almost requires me to be online through sheer boredom, I see no better alternative.
Last week was a mess, and by last week I mean up until two nights ago, shambles. It’s the same old story fit for any Primetime slot staring 20 something year olds trying to traverse the jagged cliff that is love. Not even love, relationships in general. It doesn’t have to be hard, but sometimes you make it harder for yourself.
I already know my flaws, and while listing them in order would take up more space, you can’t expose all your secrets, it’s relationship espionage people. So here’s me in a convoluted shitty dialogue, that I’m basically writing to clear my mind.
I’m oversensitive. Don’t say all women are because trust me they’re not. Other women are sensitive, there are those of us who are oversensitive. Quick word of warning, I make words. I like making words, I am most know for making words that have “–love” attached to the end. Moving back into my train of thought. . . I come from a small town where everyone finds they’re soul mate when they’re like 14 years old. All of my best friends, coupled. Me, not so much. I have more trouble with relationships then President Bush has reading a teleprompter. I get attached at the drop of a hat, which yes is bad, I’ve come to terms with it and I am trying to amend that flaw. But it’s really not that hard to get attached when you are given misinformation.
For example, don’t tell a girl she’s amazing, great, beautiful etc., if you have no plans to act on a relationship. Oh, nice words are always nice, but at the end of the day to you (guys), that’s all they are, nice words. Girls here things like that and go, “Maybe he wants to date me. Oh my God, I should buy a new shirt. Should I call him or should I wai-I’m gonna call him.” That’s why two weeks later you’re gassing up your Red Toyota Corolla and telling her that you have to go “find yourself.” Hey here’s a fun fact, you’re a prick. OK. . . not completely, but think about what you (guy) could have done differently. Maybe just tell her, “Oh yeah, you’re cool. I mean in a friend kind of way.” Shitty let down, yes, however it’s a more effective way to let her down without letting her down, because just dropping out of her life will lead her through unnecessary stress. Because there’s nothing worse then getting dumped BEFORE the relationship has actually started.
Guys are not the only ones at fault. Oh yeah girls, we are definitely to blame too. But let’s be realistic, it’s really not our fault. Look at the images we start girls out on.
Cut to Cinderella washing floors on her hands and knees adorned in uncoordinated blue and brown rags. Her hair is matted, face broken out, and her best friend is a rat which most girls can relate to. Her life is in the drain, because she doesn’t have a man.
All of a sudden some fat unattractive apparition comes waltzing out of the woods straight out of an acid trip, with a stick in her hand, and says, “I can make you beautiful, but only for like four hours.” Cinderella is like, “Oh my god this rocks.” Cut to her entering the ball and all the guys staring at her like, “Wow, I’d do her.” But Cinderella can’t settle for any man, she has her sights set on Prince Charming.
Enter Prince Charming, whose hair looks shellacked with motor oil in tight red pants that totally don’t match his baby blue overcoat. Anyway, after dancing around the ballroom ONCE, they fall madly in love and then Oh wait! It’s midnight, Cinderella is gonna start looking like a vagabond in one minute. Cinderella leaves Prince Charming to spend another night with his left and right. Then wait a tick! A glass slipper that belongs to the beautiful girl I danced with, I’ll use it as evidence to do house to house searches and find her.
Ok first of all, glass slippers? I know we all believe that fantasy shit, but glass slippers? She’s one uneven step away from slicing her Achilles tendon and spending her magical night high on morphine in the ER. Second, I know that the slippers are magical, but you mean to tell me that no other chick in that town had the same size foot as Cinderella. I find that a little (I think I want to watch The Departed tonight, random I know), odd.
Anyway the moral of the story is, Prince Charming is an ass. Let me tell you how Cinderella really ended. Prince Charming and Cinderella got married, she had three kids and he goes to the bar three nights out of the week to watch the game, while she spends her nights at home taking care of the babes, and scrubbing floors. Only now it’s every floor in that friggin’ castle, plus like vomit, spit, poo and crying.
So moral of the blog, stop looking for Prince Charming. It’s a dead end road. Look for a guy who sees you in uncoordinated brown and blue rags and says, “I’d do her,”or some other sweet nothing like that.

Simulacrum= is never that which conceals the truth—it is the truth which conceals that there is none.
e of my favorite female comedians.


