Your REAL Horoscope!
Find out what your f'kin future holds...
Recommendation: Over 18.
Oh how I just love picking a fight! The adrenaline rush is better than sex. Ok. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. lol.
All I need is one small comment, one horrible look, one step out of that imaginary line of what's acceptable to say or do and the games begin! I could hit a guy without the least speck of fear. I wouldn't care that he's larger and stronger than me. My inner determination doesn't see the other person as anything but my equal. That's why it's better for me (read my health) to argue online. lol. At least I can switch my monitor off and cool down without ending up arrested for battery or missing an arm in St. Lukes Casualty Dept.
I could argue my way out of anything and if I can't, I won't bother trying.
Then you reach that point where it's like a sticking record. Always the same argument, always the same words, always the same route and always the same outcome. This is like missionary sex. Boring. (And no, it has nothing to do with Africa and poor hungry people, you stupid twat.)
An argument in itself, the adrenaline rush makes me so 'alive' and aware, so on edge and it feels like aviation fuel is pumping through my veins, not blood. I feel like I could knock someone off his feet with the swift darting of the tongue and then I would stand over him with my underpants over my trousers, hold my imaginary balls and laugh, "Mwuahahahahaha!" like some action hero.. no. Villain. I'd prefer to be the villain anytime! A villain who could win though, not those pussy villains who end up dead in Jean-Claude Van Crap films.
Almost 3,000 people died that day. And 5 years later, we're no closer to peace.
Did Osama do it? Did the FBI/US government do it? All this means nothing because right now, we're exactly where they both want to be. At war. It won't be the first war that's ever been faught and it won't be the last.
But what chills my blood is the overnight massive rise in global hatred towards Muslims. And it WAS overnight. I saw it with my own eyes.
As I sat there waiting for CNN to bring some Muslim Cleric with a Qu'ran in his hands, furious at how people who call themselves muslims dare speak for millions of law abiding, tolerant muslims when they say God wants them to bring death to the west... it never came.
Some sporadic voices condemned the attacks, like our local Imam, but nothing as big as the Danish Cartoon saga. And as far as I see it, both events are an offence to every muslim!
9-11 just opened a new window of opportunity for further global unrest.
That is why I feel a small tinge of hope when I stumble on websites such as this one. http://www.freemuslims.org/
"Kamal (President of the Free Muslim Coalition Against Terrorism) is proud to be a Muslim and is not afraid to challenge the
shortcomings of other Muslims."
"Other Americans have spoken up against terrorism, but never before has this
message come with such clarity from Muslims and Arabs. Muslims are the only
who can resolve the problem of terror in Islam."
The weather is playing tricks on me. I felt, for a few days, that finally it was getting cooler. I had my hair done and suprisingly, I could stand it down on my shoulders. It stayed perfect, so perfect, it reminded me how long it had been since I didn't end up looking like a frizz ball before it even had a chance to cool down. Something that a hairbrush could get lost in.
But lo and behold, it's hot again! As sweat pours off me like a dripping tap, I sit here fuming that my blowdry hasn't lasted even 12 hours. Damn you, stoopid weather!!!
So now it's back to 'cool me down' showers and sitting under the A/C all day with my hair in a granny bun.
If only I could go to Alaska for summer... I seriously think I was made to live in a colder country. Or maybe in a fridge.
Now, where did I put that hairbrush?...
As I try to catch my breath from coughing until my lungs felt like they were coming out of my mouth, I sit there trying to contort my face into the dirtiest look ever, one that can reduce a man to tears, give him recurring nightmares and have him beg for me to stop.
But I go unnoticed. The paper seems to have far more interesting things than me giving a dirty look. How dare he smoke and emit them disgusting smelly emissions into the air and make my freshly blow dried hair smelly? Oh and make my asthma immediately worse? He smelt like a walking talking ashtray.
I felt helpless. I knew I had to wait another hour in the same room and it would be a very uncomfortable hour is I spent it lamenting with him over why it was illegal for him to be puffing away in my face. I felt like sitting right beside him and fart while I pick my nose.
Then with bogey still attached firmly to finger on display and with the thickness of the air tainted with 'eau du hara', I would lean over to see the day's news highlights. What would he think? That I'm a disgusting person with a disgusting habit that's imposing their presence, habit and all, on them?