Bad Luck Pussy - Shit Happens
Bad Luck Pussy - Sometimes... Shit Happens

        

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These things are always awkward for me to write, because as I do, I know that whatever I reveal about myself makes me that much more vulnerable to whomever is reading it. For this reason I keep like to keep my life, and self, vaguely defined, partially private, and I don't provide ammunition to those few unsavoury characters who are looking to hurt or upset me. That being said, whatever you might want to know about me that is not covered here, is most likely not meant to be public knowledge... so don't ask.

poop Midge Defined
I am 27 years old, married, a mother of one, Canadian who did some time in the Southern US and is glad to be free. I am unapologeticly fat, sensitive, loud and foul mouthed, snobby, reclusive, obsessed with japanese culture, bilingual, loyal, emotional and child like. I haven't worn my natural haircolor since I was 11 or 12 years old and at present time it's black and red and fried to hell. I look like a quail in the morning with poofed out plumage. I can and often do break into tears at the drop of a hat, happy, sad, it doesn't matter. I'm a gemini through and through. I tweeze my eyebrows, sometimes too much. I've driven across the US, twice. I get grouchy and frustrated when I can't find things. I frequently believe infomercials. I used to drink, I used to smoke, I used to diet, I used to hate myself, I'm better now. Heights make me dizzy, dogs scare me and I have an exaggerated startle response. I am a recovering drama queen. Music speaks to me. I fish for compliments when I am insecure. I can be an arrogant asshole. I pick up local dialect and accents wherever I go. I speak two languages fluently. My body odor smells like onions. I really fucking hate bugs. I used to believe in the death penalty. I do too many things at once, all half assed. I enjoy drama, watching more than living it mind you, now anyways. I hold grudges. I am dichotomous. I have tattooed. I like to think up scams. I believe I am a better human being than most. I am attached to very few people, but I would do anything for them. I love buying gifts for people. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore. I have a repetetive stress injury in both my forearms and am in constant pain. I talk too much shit and gossip my way into trouble. I think 98% of the planet is filled with total and complete bastards.

poop Detailed Biography
I was born in quebec canada in 1977 to an unmarried, single hippy mother with something to prove to her catholic family. Early on there were sinister plots to have me removed from her custody and put up for adoption, but thankfully, none of them came to be. We moved around a lot, and I never stayed in the same school for more than one year until I was 11 years old. I remain an only child to this very day, unless you want to count a half brother I have never met who won't talk to me.

I've had my share of misfortune, the kind that puts you in a hospital for weeks or has blades up against your skin. I had terrible self esteem issues, with weight and (imagined) abandonment, on top of the typical teenage angst and self doubt. It wasn't an easy time for me, but it also wasn't as bad as it could have been, I had my crutches, and I got by. I did a lot of drugs, ate a lot of Oreos, drank moderately, and fucked around, doing the usual things rowdy kids do: stealing lawn ornaments, shoplifting, loitering and skipping classes. Oddly enough I did well in school without much effort, and graduated highschool with honors and a provincial scholarship.

I went to university for a semester, thought it sucked, dropped out. It wasn't that it was hard, I passed all my classes even though I attended maybe a third of them, it just wasn't my bag. I was chatting online with gimps on irc, chain smoking and feelign sorry for myself, looking for salvation from the isolation and boredom of my tedious existence. I didn't want a future, I wanted to be rescued or dead, either would suffice. I moved across the country to be with some, they were nerds, I left quickly. I kept going back to it though, even though everyone I met was a dissapointment, rarely anything like what they presented themselves to be. Much like I was at the time I suppose... I hurt a lot of people and don't keep in touch with any of them, except of course for the one I married.

He was perhaps the biggest surprise. I was planning to visit some nerds near him, and though we had only spoken briefly, he was a lot of laughs online, had a couch we could crash on and worked in a bar. To this day I still think he only insisted I visit so he could get some free tattoos, because everytime we talked he reminded me bring your tattoo gun. We hit it off and got hitched, had a kid shortly thereafter.

We're married in a different way than most people, or at least I like to think so. We are eachother's best friends, and rarely tire of eachother's company. We don't fuck around or cuss eachother out. We don't fight and break shit. We have a very stable nurturing relationship, and husband is probably what has kept and made me as sane, confident and happy as I am today, which is more than I ever have been before in my life. I have no regrets, and glowing gratitude for what he has given me, everyday.

We lived in his hometown, then Virginia. At first, I didn't really do anything with myself career wise, he worked, I stayed home and took care of the baby. It was so much more fun that way. sometimes he got laid off, I'd go work at a crappy job, which at first was Wal-mart. I quit working for them that after reaching my breaking point with the two faced back stabbing freaks that work there. I got a job at an in home senior care giving service. It was a non medical job that revolved around helping old people who can't quite take care of themselves anymore, stay out of nursing homes. I worked late at night and got paid to sit on a comfortable couch and read dirty books for the most part. It was easy and I liked it okay, plus it fit nicely with my then love affair with the idea of being a nurse. Mind you it also disspelled that idea when the depressoing reality of watching slow death was revealed to me.

We moved back to Canada. We drove all the way and stopped for a few days in Colorado to visit family. The drive was tedious, frightening and breathtaking all at the same time. We had nothing and flew by the seat of our pants, with all our worldly posessions in a U-Haul truck with cheese for shocks and never more then a few hundred dollars in our pockets.

Since we've been in Canada I've gone from crappy job to slightly less crappy job. At first I went back to Claire's, a place I swore I'd never work at again (see a trend developping here?). I hated the sleaze, peddling crap wass no fun, and it broke my heart to punch holes in little girl ears. but it was a job and that was what I was in the market for. I found another job with slightly more pay and hours, and slightly less of a screwjob. The trend continued and I've ended up working for the Federal Government. I am an office clerk, earning almost 3 times my hourly wage at Claire's, working full time and better off financially than ever before. We live in the basement suite of a house owned by my mother for little to no rent, in massive debt, surrounded by the ocean, beauty, yuppies and over priced real estate. I crave the independence and washer and dryer I had in Virginia, but then I don't miss the religious hillbillly idiots... it's all a balancing act.

poop Stuff I Dig
Maneki Neko, the fortune cat. Wonka candy. Underdogs. Liquid eyeliner. Sanrio, San-X and Barunson products (badbadtz maru, nyanko and fuitzi especially). Diet Coke. Bettie Page. Stickers. Kazaa Lite. SpongeBob SquarePants. Animal Crossing for Gamecube. Making candles and soap. Beating the system. Good Chinese food (of which there is none around here). Sassy little under things. Computer related nerdiness. Gloomy Bear. Trivial Pursuit. Dollar stores. Power reds. Good Will. Devotional art. Lip gloss. CSI (except Miami). Leopard and Zebra skin prints. Food. Dexter's Laboratory. Chinatown in Vancouver. Swedish fish. Coop art. Sushi. Sculpey polymer clay. Music that doesn't suck. Acrylic paints and brushes. Beads. Good sex. Cheese cake. Conversation. Kindness. A good guffaw. Cats kittens and other small adorable creatures. Humanity.

poop Things I Hate
Car repairs. Wrestling. Most Dentists. Bright red lipstick and nail polish. Bugs. Lawyers (except for Suntock). Coffee and it's vile stench. Being lost. Dirty dishes. Large bloated vehicles that take up more than one parking place. Sunburns. Doctors. Dryer lint. Roots. Bills. People who state third party speculation as fact. Invasive software. Televised sports. Blatant misuses of big words in inappropriate context. College, University and other institutes of learning. Insecurity. Hang nails. Dora the Explorer, the wiggles and other zombifying children's programming. Stupid movies. Headaches. Flatulence. Taxes. Criticism. People who support a war they know nothing about from their sheltered lives where they have never seen horror. Each and every single person who voted for George W Bush. Humanity.

poop Movies I have Loved
Ghost World. Taxi driver. Being John Malkovich. Bar Fly. Arlington road. Rushmore. Apocalypse Now. Suicide Kings. The Royal Tennebaums. Clerks. The Big Lebowski. Animal House. Punch Drunk Love. Good Will Hunting. Mall Rats. Breakfast Club. Heat. The Shawshank Redemption. Grosse Point Blank. The Wedding Singer. Bottle Rocket. Repo Man. Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Bringing Out the Dead. Office Space. River's Edge. The Piano. Cop Land. The Bad Lieutenant. Casino. Good Fellas. Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Blow. Tommy Boy. Black Sheep. Beverly Hills Ninja. Silence of the Lambs. Hannibal. Search and Destroy. Memento. Ravenous. The Warriors. Flirting with Disaster. Rock and Roll Highschool. Joe Dirt. Following. The Crow. The Spongebob Squarepants movie. Resevoir Dogs. Kill Bill.

poop Music I Enjoy
The Ramones. Moby. Boss Hog. The Who. Bjork. Violent Femmes. Men Without Hats. David Bowie. Portishead. Tricky. Massive Attack. Morcheeba. Ruby. Fiona Apple. Johnny Cash. Cyndi Lauper. Donovan. Fear. Beck. The Clash. The Strokes. Butthole Surfers. Weeping Tile. Belly. Elvis Costello. Talking Heads. Bob Dylan. The Coasters. Townes Van Zandt. Weezer. AC/DC. Jimmi Hendrix. Devo. Iggy Pop. Hayden. Bis. Mazzy Star. The Doors. Shonen Knife. The Cranberries. Coldplay. Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet. MC 900 ft Jesus. Cake. I also loot husband's playlist on a regular basis.

poop Books I have Loved
Red China Blues by Jan Wong. Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut. The Fuck-Up by Arthur Nersersian. Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski. Crime & Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. How to Talk Dirty and Influence People by Lenny Bruce. Ask the Dust by John Fante. Post Office by Charles Bukowski. Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey. Blue Beard by Kurt Vonnegut. The Gambler by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

poop Television I watch
The Simpsons. Days of our Lives. Spongebob Squarepants. Fairly Oddparents. Survivor. Seinfeld. CSI. ER. I also have DVD in heavy rotation to compensate for the general suck of TV: Peewee's Playhouse. Oodles of Spongebob. Young Ones. Futurama. Simpson's. Space Ghost. I no longer have but really miss: Johnny Bravo. Ed, Edd & Eddy. Home Movies. News Radio. Kids in the Hall.

poop My Pets
I have a sweet little runty tortie tabby cross we've had since she was a kitten, named Lucky (4 years old), a big fat white and tabby boy I adopted from the SPCA (11 years old), and a dwarf hamster named pichnouk.



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