Monday, September 19, 2011

Moods and Broods

Sunshine finally hit my face in the morning as I pulled myself out of my bed, knowing this wouldn't happen very often in my morning ritual. Autumn 2011 has enveloped Vancouver, the sun rising later every day. Soon I will be missing every ray of sunshine, working indoors. The morning was a bit chilly and, in turn, I get to wear all of my fun jackets and boots I missed over the hot sunny days of summer. Fashion change thank god. Not soon enough.

So I put on my Dr. Martens and Roxy jacket, I looked in the mirror and was in a good mood, admiring my decision of wardrobe. Off to work and enjoyed an average day with my coworkers. After work, my Friday night, I decided to visit the watering hole I always frequent. Once I walked in I realized I was pretty tired from my week of work and fun. A few visits from a 'friend' in my apartment was exciting and rejuvinating yet also a bit draining, considering I was working the whole week. Sometimes everyone needs a friend with benefits, and hopefully it continues.

I do have the ability to exude an aroma to attract exactly the opposite of what I actually want. My collection of 'what went wrong' situations, can be written on the many pages of an empty journal. There are people I have had words with and others I wish to just not get into conversations with at the bar. I came in to the bar in a good mood, styling my fall digs, and immediately I realized my mood was not what it appeared. Normally if I recognize the twinges I know to sit in a small booth by the window. So I sit at the bar and it's all fine as I do my iPod 'dealings'. Well, in no time my 'stalker' comes in to 5 empty seats around me. We have had our words and I have no patience for the insanity. So he chooses a seat right beside me. Great. Brood #1 takes my mood from sea level to dipping under the waves.

Of course, I have every choice in seating, and have made moves that confuse all of the people around me but sometimes when I make the move I end up making more of a spectacle of myself when I just want to hide. This time I moved from 'the stalker' to a cling on from a friend's previous relationship. So great and I guess now I'm considered a bitch by sticking the hand up in his face pretty much. He's now sitting with my 'stalker'.

Now my Broods have made my mood undersea with Spongebob Squarepants. I just got a text from my 'friend' and it enabled me to get some air in my lungs.
Jen McIntyre | Create your badge
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Thursday, September 1, 2011

Instant Gratification

The candy store at the end of the street where I grew up was like heaven to me as a child. With just a few coins in my pocket I could buy anything in that price range, placing the biggest smile on my face from ear to ear. The sugary sweet candy melting in my mouth like a scene from Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Better yet, when I was older I was still attracted to that sweet sinful delight, traveling weekly to a candy store filled with every flavor under the sun, from licorice to jelly beans, chocolate to marzipan, the room was like the dizzying effect of making a cotton candy puffball on a cone. Welch's, on the corner of Granville and Broadway, was every child's dream, big round eyes peering through the display cases at the colorful treats waiting to be placed delicately on their tongues. 

That was definitely the first perfect example of instant gratification. I'm an adult now and the years have wrinkled me and my direct route to gratification. It doesn't happen as easily as it did back in the day. Wanting something doesn't mean you can have it. Shopping for a hobby is a perfect example. Between the prices, the size selection, color selection and a the amount of money in your wallet, no matter how many times you try it on, sometimes that pure orgasmic gratification is lost. There will always be items out of reach in everyone's life, no matter how much money is padding their wallet. If everything was easily attained what would be the point of life?

Lately, I have realized many things about myself. The most important is that I like my space. I have been in relationships and enjoyed the intimacy of it all, and I have also remembered the feeling of  smothering when people are in my space. The last significant relationship I had kept us in two places. We both had our own caves into which we could retreat. I loved the fact that I had my own space, could leave when I wanted and still had the intimacy of companionship and sex. It was perfect, for the time it lasted. There were times when I wanted more, but in the end, that never broke us up. 

Recently, I have dabbled in flirting without real need for a relationship. I believe I may need this kind of instant gratification, candy for the adult, and understand the learning curve I will have to accept with this choice. I have been a relationship whore in a way and I can be seen as selfish from the outside observer. I never claim to need the monogamous lifestyle but seem to fall into that category, like the random Plink-o disc bouncing from peg to peg and always falling in the 'relationship' column. Never choosing the 'taken' label, I pride myself to others as a strong independent woman, and have fought for that title. Regardless of my relationship status, I am always steadfast in my strength.

Last night there was a large gash in that armor, so large, tears were weeping out of it like a hole in a dam. How and why it happened is surprising, but at the same time, my armor has never been as thick as everyone else DECIDED it was. I have never cared much about what people think about me, doing as I wish within my character. My surrounding circle of inner friends only want the best for me. The outer circle is more of a bothersome weight on my shoulders that actually brought me to my knees. Luckily that inner circle wasn't crushed hopefully.

On to the story... Instant gratification: a warm body, a good night of "mattress dancing" and no strings attached. That's what was in my head. Now I was set and determined to open a door in my character to let in this new desire while still enjoying the same life I live day to day. Yes, you can label it 'booty call', 'friend with benefits', or 'release workout'. Regardless, I was never really looking officially, until an acquaintance slipped some hints and flirts my way. At first I was flattered and then realized that the combined predicaments of our lives would be mutually beneficial. I was hopeful and one night, after a week or two of testing the waters on his reaction to the idea, a positive answer and titillating flirts began, with texts and private messages.

Raised in a Happy Days lifestyle, Joanie (me) needed to break free of the stigma attached to her character. It is harder than it seems apparently, as my first attempt created this large gaping wound, not by the immediate parties involved but by the peanut gallery. I have apparently become Mother Teresa in my lovely drinking hole, where my outer appearance is not even close to what I am on the inside. I feel like a Cadbury Easter Cream Egg, all chocolaty on the outside and creamy sugary goodness on the inside. Perhaps a better example would be a ripe pineapple, with its prickly outer protection and its sweet yet tart interior. Anyways, I altered the universe in my other living room to the point that it spun around and kicked me in the ass, making me question myself and my intent.

Not the first time this has happened, I have smoothly parted ways with Chachi and then dated Satan within 3 months, creating a rift with the onlookers. What could they do to save me? Joanie is dating 'that bad guy'. Let's say I sure stirred the shit and made people give me a double take. Anyways, in the end no one knew how to take me and that was a relief. I have the good-girl stigma literally attached to my ass and I have to remove it now. Why can't I change my ways, even if it is a tiny bit. It's not so much to ask to ask for, what I want?

BACKFIRE!!! So, the peanut gallery have decided that I am something I am not. I found this out harshly, hanging out with the 'sure thing'. This 'sure thing' had already offered his services, and I enjoyed his company, keeping me in stitches whenever he was around. With one evening and a surprise attack, this first rendezvous was demolished moments in its beginning, secret words and talk behind my back directed only to him. I was unaware of this until I asked him out-right about the failed tryst, only to find out I was made out to be a relationship monger, gathering men and leaving them in the trash. 

Can you see the huge gaping gash in my armor now? Tears welling up from my gut spewing out while I texted him. Apparently I am loved too much and he is a slut. Also, we are both in need of being saved. Well, let me tell you, regardless of my tears, used only to heal the wounds created by my so-called fans, I will not be directed in the way of the wave, and when backed against a wall, my horns come out. I will not let anyone dictate to me who I will be or with whom I will have relations, especially in bed.

Amazingly this guy has held on as a friend, cheering me up continuously all day and understands my plight as he was deemed a slut, another stigma. I am feeling better, gaping wound with a lovely scab on it for all to see. Live, love and learn. I want to do this without the cattle prods, fences, street signs and judgment.

Let me make my own decisions and support me when I ask. Don't judge my actions, judge your own.

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Sunday, July 10, 2011

Enjoy the Silence

Sunday. This day is many things to so many people. To me it is a curse word. I always work on Sundays and it is the opposite of what people think Syndays are all about. For many people, Sunday is a day to enjoy family and friends, outings including a meal, brunch often, and I am that person that cooks the so-called brunch for multitudes
of people. Let's say, having a Sunday is foreign to me, and I would never know what to do with myself.

On that note, I did not have the day off today, Sunday July 10. I did have a break from cooking eggs, as my cooks decided they were into leading the brunch chaos. I was pleased to see them cook brunch with the ease and eagerness of new employees. They proved to me I can take a day off. Unfortunately, I was swamped with prep and dishes and ordering and chaos cleanup. I was run off my feet with a very perfect example of my abilities at extreme juggling. Never amount to stop, playing catch up continually all day, eventually my mind began to falter. By the end of the day, I was ecstatic about leaving the building, even with the many thank yous from my collegues, supporting them from the base, keeping the ship moving forward without a shudder from the hull of the Brunch Liner.

Now that I am off my feet, in a different atmosphere, sipping a Strongbow, I realize how exhausted I become from the summer heat and busy restaurant kitchen. Regardless, the sound of bluesy jazz and private seating by the window of my favourite watering hole, relaxes me. I have silenced the work day stress and closed off the sometimes bothersome folk with whom I usually sit. Watching the world move by me outside the slightly stained window, I enjoy my own piece of silence, similar to my jaunts around the seawall.

The city is it's busiest in my neighbourhood on Sundays, but I can sit and enjoy the silence of my mind. Recharge for another day.

Jen McIntyre | Create your badge
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Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The Internet and Technology.... Is It Desensitizing Society?

Waking up to the smell of coffee brewing, the sun kissing my eyelids and my cat purring in my ear, are all tangible, tactile experiences that everyone understands and comprehends. The smell of the sea air, seeing a harbour seal in the bay, hearing seagulls screeching overhead while a bald eagle soars by my apartment; events involving the senses. It amazes me how I can be so lazy one day, watching TV all day while the sun shines down on a city so often drenched with rainfall and grey clouds.

A week ago today, the city was alive, the hunger for a Stanley Cup in Vancouver so strong we could all feel the cool silver trophy on our pursed lips, as we kiss the engraved cup. The streets filled with a sea of blue and green jerseys, bars filled with a happy excited fans, helicopters overseeing the street parties; the jewel of BC alive with Olympic spirit again. There was an uneasy thread in the back of every one's mind, a touch of nervous excitement; worries of the team losing its chance to hoist the cup, and worse yet, the images of 17 years before, and the ugly side of humankind emerging from the crowd.

In 1994, the city was, again, in the race to the Stanley Cup, a similar joyous crowd gathering everywhere. This was when our city was innocent, like a toddler before its first tantrum. When the team lost, the city lost. Riots broke out, windows were broken, fires were set, looting occurred. It was a blemish on the heart and soul of the city. A disgrace, not only to every Vancouverite, but an embarrassment to every parent who watched their children vandalize their beautiful city.

This was an era when the Internet was beginning, video games ruled the entertainment of every teen, cell phones were practically non-existent. Video cameras, digital cameras, all the technology of today was not a common factor. People still reacted on raw emotion, using their senses to make decisions. The riot then occurred due to an over exuberant teen climbing high above the crowd on transit lines, who electrocuted himself and fell to the street in the crowd. A tear gas bomb landed in the crowd to clear the street to allow for a emergency vehicle in to rescue the injured teen. Unfortunately, everyone didn't see the fall, creating mass confusion and anger towards the police for contaminating the area and every one's eyes, as the crowd ran, trampling the weak and stumbling, causing more injuries and building the anger of the mass of people in the streets. There were also, mostly voyeurs of the chaos, standing back in awe, watching the small percentage of young drunken men, vandalizing store fronts, setting fires, looting stores.

Last week, during the hockey game, I felt a turn in the air, especially when I realized the beloved trophy was out of our grasp. I remember those riots 17 years earlier, the sting of the tear gas, the running confused crowds. It reminded me of the scene in The Lion King with the buffalo stampede chasing Simba and Mufasa down the gorge. I felt a touch of that fear of being trampled. I knew better and moved far away from that gorge, an hour before the buffalo run. If there were no TVs where I was, I would not have known of the city being on fire, except for the smoke and red glow over the downtown towers.

Technology was a costar in the Vancouver riots, definitely not a participant 17 years earlier. In this age of social networking and communication, one of the fuels of the riot had to be the Internet. When the Internet wears the black hat, portraying the enemy, it can incite a riot in no time, and the context of that riot, whether protesting a corrupt government, or simply gathering a group of Anarchists to vandalize store fronts and taunt the police, is lost in the violence. Wearing the white hat of the hero, the Internet was amazingly helpful, assisting the police in crowd control, pinpointing trouble spots, recording rioters and photographing acts of violence on people and businesses. Because of technology, we have immediate arrests, people turning themselves in to the authorities, and overflowing compassion for the business owners and injured spectators.

The many venues to communicate information is numerous: Twitter, Facebook, texting, cell phones, instant video and digital cameras and You Tube, are a few of the popular social networking avenues used to pass on the events of that evening. From the days of television, humans have been trained to be desensitized. Humans are lead by their emotions, the only beings on Earth with emotions, and as we create new and more exciting ways to engulf our senses, we also become numb to the those emotions that keep our species separate from the buffalo stampeding down the narrow gorge in Africa. Our senses and emotion give us the basis of our choices today. The question is: Have we created an overload to our senses, causing our species to shut down, equalling us to the ape on the other side of the bars?

There are many forms of interrogation focused around overloading the senses, where the questioned person weakens and  reveals the information desired. Bright lights in the eyes, overheated small rooms, continuous loud noise, starvation, and many other more painful ways of gathering information. This process is used to overwhelm the senses: sight, taste, sound, touch, and smell. Is the overwhelming information on the Internet, desensitizing society? We can watch CNN 24 hours a day, veiwing bloodied bodies of conflict over seas, we can play incredibly violent video games for hours, we can watch hard core pornography on the internet. Overloading all of these core senses must eventually desensitize us to the images we see day in and day out.

From Internet dating to Tweeting what you are doing in an instant, technology has evolved each and everyone of us. We react not on senses but on societal acceptance. Right from wrong is not an immediate reaction but an after thought, where it is right to clean a demolished city after a riot, but a dismissed after thought of the enormous wrong of the original act of violence. I am amazed how humans always test the boundaries in such an extreme fashion. In a way Vancouver was given such a good name all over the world, it was just bound to cross the line to fall from that high pedestal.

Yes, technology is and will be with us forever. If you look beyond the computer screen, the TV, the towers built by ever increasing technology, past the smog from the increasing population commuting in their cars, there is still that glimmer of beauty our city prizes. Turn off your smart phones, Ipods, TVs, cars. Put on your shoes and go outside. Smell the air, hear the sounds of the city, taste to ethnicity of our restaurants, touch the sand on the beaches, look up to the beauty of our mountains and wildlife around us. Regardless of technology, we can still turn it all off and enjoy our senses.



Jen McIntyre | Create your badge


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Betting on the horses is like gambling in online casinos. When you look for online craps
the Internet should be a good way to start. Give me a brick and mortar casino for my gambling anytime. site counter

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Delete.....







animated countersEveryone likes to ignore or dismiss things in their life they don't like. I try my best to keep moving forward, staying focused on the positive. People or situations in my life that disappoint me or damage my spirit, get physically erased from my brain. I find that I hold a grudge longer than most and find every reason to keep it alive. Perhaps it is a natural defence mechanism, protecting my heart and feelings from being inundated anymore. I get harder and stronger shields every time I am hit with negative  comments or fall out of a relationship, whether it be romantic or platonic. 



 
I am, or have become, a private person in my older years. Not that I am not social, but the walls go up, in preparation for the hurt even before it happens. There are certain limits to my space that I create, rarely reaching outside of the walls, but rather waiting for a knock on the door of my heavily fortified castle. The unfortunate thing is, I seem to get burned every time I open my heavy door. The outside made of heavy stone and brick, surrounded by a moat (of Heineken LOL) is the opposite of the interior of my world. 
 
Inside the castle, the visitor sees the opposite, a Willy Wonka world of treats and comforts galore. I am a hostess, willing to make my visitor comfortable in any way. The interior design made of whatever desire my visitor yearns. This, of course, causes this person to return, and the cycle continues. I enjoy making people happy, and as long as they are smiling, I am content. I simply live for positive judgment from others. The funny thing is everyone I know sees me as a strong independent woman, who doesn't get dragged down by worrying what people think of me. I  guess they only see the rock and brick armour of my exterior.
 
 The latest damage to my fort, a failed relationship, yet again, is still eroding the barrier of my world. The end of our union was centered around my birthday. I have never celebrated my birthday with grandeur but I expect the loved ones in my life to notice and send me greetings on my day. He didn't know it was my birthday, and his excuse was because it wasn't on Facebook. I have heard some lame excuses in my day, but this one is pretty high on the list. Just like everyone today, social networking is a huge part of our lives, from Facebook and Twitter, to simply texting and emailing instead of phoning or writing and speaking directly. I am just as much at fault, tumbling into the "Anti-social Network", rarely phoning, and utilizing all forms of networking possible. We discussed the issue after I had the worst birthday ever (thank you to everyone for all of your love on my birthday). We decided to try to make up and literally 5 days later, a missile hit the wall of my castle, and I walked. 

I am quite content with the break up, which I fed him similarly on a Facebook sandwich, by changing my relationship status to single and "unfriending" him. Considering he decided that is the best way to gather information about me, like my birthday, I decided he needed to have it back in his face. The problem is, his profile status is still labelled as in a relationship. I immediately thought of the scene in the movie The Social Network with the enraged girlfriend, setting fire to the garbage can of her boyfriend over his "relationship status" (The Social Network girlfriend garbage fire scene). I laughed uncontrollably when I watched this scene. Now I see how I am digging a hole in my own castle, not him. It's bothering me, not him. If it is, he certainly would have changed it.
 
I remember the beginnings of social networking, the television show Sex and the City, where Carrie Bradshaw is a writer creating stories about her love life in New York city. There was a scene of one of her boyfriends, Burger, breaking up with her on a sticky note (Post It Break Up reaction- Sex and the City). This was when mobile phones were becoming popular, texting was new and "anti-social" behaviour was born. I wonder if what I did just perpetuates the way people socialize. I certainly helped to repair the walls of my surroundings, although without actually telling him to his face, the repairs are probably not as sturdy as they could be. 
 
Blogging is my way of releasing built up stress and feelings, a personalized view of me. The Internet is similar to an eye level window into my castle. I have to have a connection to the outside world in some form. It's hard to really know me, if I am wearing a suit of armour. I wish one thing with all of this creative outlet blogging...I want to be able to open my doors with ease and remove the armour. Although this allows me to drop the walls, making me look in the mirror and criticize myself, I never seem to change. Am I an old dog? Am I capable of learning new tricks?

Do the monsters need to be confronted face to face? Are they the monsters or am I the monster?




    
 









Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Laughter is the Best Medicine


So, regardless of my current situation, I have not turned down the dark road of depression. Why should I? I wasn't done wrong but rather made a wrong decision. I could feel sorry for myself and pout, but why? I did no wrong unless giving too much is a bad thing. I unfortunately received little in return. 

Enough of that millisecond of my life. I have filled my time laughing about the matter. The joke is on him, where the whole situation has been ridiculed to death. It seems to be so hilarious that now people are giving me 'the finger' randomly to get a laugh. I woke this morning with sunshine in my eyes and a smile on my face, as I realized those worries were gone. Sure, my cell phone is quiet, no one texting me every hour or so, but I understand those messages were hollow reassurances to keep me around. 

I watch the news of politicians cheating on their wives. My favourite tv show is The Good Wife. I wonder how I could possibly want to trust a man again. I am like an M&M to these guys - hard and crunchy on the outside and soft and sweet on the inside. I need to change that, or rather find someone who doesn't take advantage of my altruism. 

I understand that relationships are work, and that it's hard to find a great man, but I am starting to believe that I am a fly strip for losers. Do I set my expectations too high so disappointment is inevitable? Do I set them too low so that I am bound to date Mr. Wrong? 

I think I'll pull back and be an observer for awhile. 
Jen McIntyre | Create your badge
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Betting on the horses is like gambling in online casinos. When you look for online craps
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Monday, May 16, 2011

Never Bite the Hand That Feeds You


Unfortunately, I am again single, but I also look at it as fortunate. Three months in I was not in too deep, and I could see the light and the entrance of the 'so-called' tunnel of love I rode in on, sitting on the back of a swan with my 'pitbull'. At closer look, I realized the swan was made of cheap plastic, the tunnel was not full of love but greed, and my 'pitbull' was more damaged than ever. Noticing the damage first, I tried to patch the holes with TLC and medical visits, in hopes to partner up and take on his issues as a team. Little did I know that the hole was very deep and widening day by day. In addition, the damage was done so long ago, the scar tissue would never allow the wound to heal.

My Pitbull was not the happy puppy I thought. He was expecting everything but a
partner. He was looking for a mommy, sugar mamma, nurse, and buddy. His world the only experience he knew and a closed mind to anything or anyone else. He did what he wanted and bit when judged of his actions. His need to compete against anyone limited his ability to open up and accept others as equals. In his mind, he was always in need of attention.

Well, he bit the hand that fed him for the last time. Disrespecting my line of work, he decided tipping was unimportant and that the hospitality industry is not deserving of his money. I cut the leash once the bite broke my flesh, blood trickling from my hand. A simple gesture of flipping the middle finger at me, my job and my opinion on tipping, fueled my walk to the door to leave for good.

Enjoy your life, closing the door on people. You have managed the strengthen the walls of my heart, similar to your tough and impenetrable heart, which needs an external machine to keep it from stopping. My heart needs no help, as I am a better person without your issues filling my life with worry and stress. Run away little Pitbull with your tail between your legs. My bite wound will heal but your gaping wound will never close.


Jen McIntyre | Create your badge
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Betting on the horses is like gambling in online casinos. When you look for online craps
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Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Happiness is a Warm Hand


The hand is an amazing part of the body that is the key to human intelligence. The opposable thumb makes the homo sapien hand have the ability to grip objects and tools like mo other animal, manipulating small objects to create a multitude of things, from artworks and music to computers and smartphones. The hand also is used to hold with other hands, walking with children and friends. Hand holding, interlacing the fingers, is a symbol of affection and love; the first outward sign of a romantic relationship between two people.

I have found a hand to hold, strong and always warm, and this person who owns this hand has the same characteristics. His warmth and strength have made me love him and I don't want to let his hand go. He has warmed my heart and strengthened my positivity. He has made me happy, and that is not something I admit to often.

Warm hands equal happiness. :)
Jen McIntyre | Create your badge
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Betting on the horses is like gambling in online casinos. When you look for online craps
the Internet should be a good way to start. Give me a brick and mortar casino for my gambling anytime. site counter

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Pitbulls and Daisies

Here I am, about to back track on all of my words from my whole life, so sit down, strap on your seat belt, and prepare yourself for a trip through the looking glass at a new alternative look at me. I have been considered an independent woman all my life, wanting to never weaken in any one's sight, I have touted advice off to many of my friends, especially when their hearts are broken or complaining about their men, reminding them that men don't make us weak, they make women strong. My previous relationships have been somewhat successful, especially dating men that are in someways weaker, allowing me to wear the pants. Things have turned upside down, and I have met a man whom is more than willing to wear the pants. In turn, I went from pitbull to daisy in a matter of two weeks. 


I find it incredible that, regardless of all of my fight against Walt Disney and his ingrained cult of Princesses and Princes, that I still can melt into a girlish state when my new guy is around. Regardless of my mood, he lifts me up just touching me. I rarely enjoy a man that is touchy-feely, probably because it felt like a weird ownership thing, like a cat rubbing its face on all your stuff, or a dog peeing on every tree, leaving its mark. In this case, I actually enjoy it, and have no problems with it. 


I have always said I have wanted a guy with a sense of humour, loves sports, can wear a ball cap and a suit at the same time, is stronger than me and can lead. Seems like that isn't too hard, but at my age, perhaps the fishing pond is a bit limited. Sure I can bend my rules, but those are all pretty much deal breakers. I want a guy's-guy, not a soft guy, not a girly-guy, not a girlfriend. A guy that can stand up to idiot men bugging me, a guy who gets along with my friends, a guy who is family-oriented, and one that likes to eat. 


My pitbull has turned me into a daisy. As long as I keep feeding him and he keeps watering me, we'll be great.
Jen McIntyre | Create your badge



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