Your bullshit tastes like rancid milk
Your mouth feels like a dank breeze
Your expression is like a demented monkey
Your saunter like a retarded cat

Your words are gnats buzzing in my ear
Your thoughts are those of an inane fool
Your compassion like UFOs, simply not there
Your appearance is that of a cow chewing cud

Your embrace feels like a sweaty sauna
Your kisses, clammy like a sow’s breath
Your everything falls short like Mini Me’s height
Your sensuality, brutal as a crude neutered dog

The feelings you give, vile as rotting flesh
The reaction I have is like that to your bullshit
The pleasure I liken to Keanu Reeve’s acting
The memories, like chew spit stuck to my shoe

Your smile warped into that of the Joker
Your eyes on me feel like biting mosquitoes
Your hands rubbed me raw like course sandpaper
They polished away any good that you had


A little bday luv; and an UK recap.

What does it mean when you celebrate your birthday by cleaning your room, practicing a presentation, getting a coffee w/ a friend, and going for a run? Granted, the run is much needed; but still, I did say "a run," not "a beer." Well, whatever you've decided, that's what I am. But, eh, I think I'm ok w/ that; it was bound to happen at some point, right?

So England/Belgium (switching directions, pay attention)... was amazing. I have added to my life goals: "Buy a cottage in the English countryside, have multilingual babies that call me "Mum," and daily sit on my fabulous 400 year old porch whilst sipping my tea and feeling superior to all of the little people." Who are the little ppl, you ask - You. You are the little people.

On a more serious note, the history and character of Europe are beautiful and enchanting. Every street we strolled down was filled with charm. Every door was painted a different color and adorned with its own unique door knob, situated in its middle. The streets kept you guessing with their haphazard cobblestone. And the da Vinci-imitating street performer charmed his way into your pockets, to leave you four euro lighter.

Brussels was certainly an enlightening experience for me, as it was my first time meandering through a city of predominantly French-speaking ppls. I've always enjoyed being reminded by my surroundings that I am an insignificant speck in a vast world; you know, like when a mountainous terrain dwarfs you in its enormity, or a dessert landscape threatens to engulf you in emptiness. That is how sharing the streets with throngs of non-English speaking ppl made me feel. I loved it. It was like being a tiny imaginative kid again, and taking all of your stuffed animals and Legos and Barbies and GI Joes to your newly constructed blanket-and-chair fort in the sitting room, and devising your own little world while Mom runs the sweeper all around you...or maybe that was just me. Regardless, I felt like I was a wide-eyed bystander, watching as my accompanying pedestrians walked their way through life. I could do anything, and no one would notice; and I could say anything and no one would hear.
In reality, they probably would notice and would hear, as I was speaking the widely-spoken English language. I'm sure they did notice and did hear and turned to their companion and said, "Did you hear what that idiot American girl just said?"
Anyways it was great. And I want to thank the local Belgians who played along w/ our unfortunate French mutterings and who were very patient with our tedious orders from French menus.

I'll try and post some pics for your wonderment and delight. Not making any promises though. It's my bday and I do what I want - maybe I will; maybe I won't.