No, I didn’t get literally wasted (drunk) but yesterday (Memorial Day) was a huge wasted holiday anyway… not that holidays mean a goddamned thing in my life or are in any way different than any other day (outside of knowing that other people, somewhere, are presumably having friend-and-family fun, which is something that I have heard about but have seldom, if ever experienced personally).
I think that I will spend the next 5 days trying to largely complete the larger components of this blog (the Life-Ruining Tragedy Stories as opposed to The Sad Rants) because I (hopefully not errantly) have decided to let my mental health counselor read this blog. Also because I need to distract my mind from the deeply stupid and embarrassing space that it has been wasting away in (it wasted there literally ALL DAY yesterday). My appointment with my counselor is in 6 days so maybe I can get this blog largely “done” (outside of the daily, inconsequential sad rants, which will be an ongoing thing) and finally give her the link to the miserable thing.
Before I shift my focus to more of the life-ruining tragedy stories, though, I really need to do a sad rant. I am in bad shape. Bad, bad shape. If I were not trying so hard to distract my venomous mind, (which is currently writing like a snake pit), I would probably fall into a severe bout of self-loathing. Being pathetic is bad, but knowing that you’re pathetic and not being sure how to fix it is far worse.
I don’t even know how to approach the stuff I want to write today. I am not in my finest form, at all – yesterday was a really bad mental health day – so this is not going to be one of my more profound, poignantly-worded efforts. I am just going to… I don’t know, see what happens I guess. My thoughts are scattered all to hell and I am failing to tether them.
I wish I were hard (or maybe dead). I wish I didn’t want for anything, or need for anything, or feel anything. As I have already told in several entries of this miserable blog, I am a hermit and I have nobody outside of my ancient grandmother. Nobody. No friends. No lover. Nobody. So, I develop these stupid celebrity crushes and then I get far too invested in them. Then I pay for it because I am apparently a most unfortunate combination of stupid, disturbed and neurotic.
I have already professed that I hate Rooney Mara. I spent all day yesterday hating her extra-hard. All. Fucking. Day. I am grateful that I am housed and fed and safe to the point that I can fret my mind over such utterly beyond retarded bullshit idiocy, but nonetheless I am mortified with myself that I indulged in it. I could have wasted my day in other, much lovelier ways – I could have played my stupid Sims 4 game or read a library book or watched some movies or done some housework. My alternatives are limited, trapped and pitiful hermit that I am, but I could have found better, healthier, happier ways to have wasted my day.
My poor, addled brain – when it gets on a tangent it gets stuck. It stays there. I remember that not too long ago I spent an entire day absolutely livid over Dreamscope, and even THAT would have been less of a stupid tangent for my idiot, damaged mind to have gone on than hating on that stupid, snotty little mouse, Rooney Mara all day!
Rooney and my celebrity crush, Joaquin Phoenix finally went public with their magical and not-so-secret fucking relationship at the Cannes closing ceremony, and the whole scene made me sick.
It is rumored that a while back, when they made “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” and that super-incredibly stupid looking up-coming movie, “A Ghost Story“, Rooney Mara was fucking the hell out of Casey Affleck (Joaquin’s best friend and now former brother-in-law). It is rumored that Rooney was the catalyst for Summer Phoenix and Casey Affleck’s divorce. It is also not rumored but known that she was cheating on her longtime boyfriend (and movie-star spawn) Charlie McDowell with Joaquin for sure, (if not with Casey as well).
There were comments on the many articles about Charlie’s movie “The Discovery” which starred Rooney, about how awkward it was for Charlie to have to do the press tour and the premiere with her for the movie after their very recent breakup, what with all of the cheating and the Joaquin gossip bullshit that was going on, and oh, poor poor poor Charlie. Well, yeah, poor Charlie. His (ex) girl is a cheating, faithless skank (committing her betrayal of Charlie while she was off portraying the religious figure of Mary Magdalene no fucking less!) What a hypocritical little snot. I’m gonna have some petty fun smearing these particular tidbits (along with the whitewashing debacle) all over the place when they start pushing that stupid, miserable movie. The bloody thing comes out on Black Friday (of course it does) so it will probably be at least October until I can really start having fun with it. Stir a little shit. Shake up the religious zealots. Maybe even put a tiny dent in Harvey Weinsten’s bottom line.
All of the brain-addled assholes that are leaving such magically fucking sparkling comments of joy, love and support on the JP and Mara relationship news articles seem to be conveniently unaware of these particular facts. It sickens me.
The Casey and Rooney thing – there is some mild debate as to whether or not it is true (it is largely purported to be true, the only ones still in denial of it are the damned Carol-shipping lesbians from that miserable forum, The L-Chat) but when I dig into celebrity bullshit I dig deep, and I have found bits of evidence all over the web that support the theory (including but not at all limited to the apparent cancellation of the production of the long-promised Far Bright Star, as well as the recent listing of Casey and Joaquin’s long-time shared loft in NYC). Also, if I had never believed it before (I did, though) THIS video (click the link) convinced me. Look at the body language between Summer and Rooney. Summer is to the left of Rooney, largely obscured by Joaquin. LOOK at her. Watch her. She couldn’t possibly look any more disgusted with Rooney if she tried; standing as far away from her as the space allows, seeming to do her best to block out even the most peripheral view of that bitch by turning as far as she gracefully can in the opposite direction. And those facial expressions – on both of them! – speak volumes. Summer’s angst-ridden face seems to be saying, “oh, little bitch, how I long to pull your face off of your skull” while Rooney’s pointy, bitchy face seems to be saying “thank God for this crowd and for the laws that protect me – I can feel those blatant waves of animosity, I can tell that this woman really wants to pull my face off of my skull!”. She keeps licking her idiot lips and casting nervous glances in Summer’s direction. Also, Mara claps her hands in such a way that seems to indicate that she has spent some time eating lead paint chips as a kid. You know, she claps retardedly. I am in no mood to even attempt political correctness. If I mean retardedly, I am gonna say retardedly. And who can deny that the way she claps is decidedly retarded?
Some of those damned Carol-shipping lesbians, probably. 🙄😆
Anyway, I have asked other people on the internet and in my house to watch the video, and to tell me if they think that I am reading too much into things or if I am seeing what I think I am seeing. So far every single person has agreed that the tension between Summer and Rooney as readily apparent, palpable, and for lack of a better expression, thick enough to cut with a knife. Not “imagined”. But if so why would Summer even bother to go? I don’t get it.
Anyway the whole fucking scene makes me sick and I fucking hate Rooney Mara so I am going to go out to the sickeningly fragrant thrift store, to see if I can find anything to cover my vast chubby body with. I don’t have hardly any damned clothes and the ones I have are barely worth having. Then, I will pick up a ham sub (which would no doubt wound Rooney and Joaquin’s tender, piggy-lovin’ vegan sensitivities – ha!) After that I suppose I will come home and stuff my great fatness with the yummy, piggy sub, and then maybe try to get a couple-few more blog entries written. Maybe I’ll read my library book, which I am suffering through thanks to the smell of the materials it is made out of. (I have multiple chemical sensitivities, including to printer ink and book-binding materials, apparently). I need to force myself to not think about JP’s stupid, handsome, idiot face, (or that tiny little bit of baby-hair on his hairline, or the freckles on his sweet nose) and I must also try to not think about that hideous little pointy-faced bitch that he’s glommed himself oh-so-lovingly onto. For me to even think about it is just stupidity.
I am in bad shape but I REFUSE to get as… uh, invested as Meredith McLarty did in her celebrity crush. She is known for stalking (and allegedly threatening to kill) Dominic Monaghan of all people. The cute little hobbit-man with the pigly-pugly nose and the jughead ears. Oh my. Joaquin Phoenix is not exactly the epitome of all that is male, but he has his own busted charm for sure – women seem more forgiving of (and even oddly endeared by) physical oddities and quirks than men are. I’ve lamented here before how I just love the double standard of how Joaquin’s harelip is sexy and mine is a fucking problem – meanwhile women are all expected to look like barbies, or in the case of Rooney Mara, starved little Justin-Bieber-lookin’ pixie-bitch waifs.
I wonder how Meredith’s eyes see Monaghan because whatever she is seeing, I ain’t. Likewise, she probably would look at Joaquin and go “ew”. The more I learn about the jerk, (Joaquin, not Meredith) the more I think that anybody with common sense should do just that. Joaquin is pretty but if even just HALF of the shit I have heard about him is true, he’s not the nice boy that he makes himself out to be. A handsome boy? Oh yes. A talented boy? Absolutely. A nice boy? Not so much at all. But he’s an actor, and a damn fine one, maybe one of the finest, and he’s convinced the masses that he is a nice boy.
So if I don’t buy into his nice-boy facade (and I don’t) what, exactly, the fuck is my problem? Oh right. He’s fine af and I suffer from longtime celibacy and deprivation. Fuck!!! Or more accurately, for me… not. No fuck for me. Par for the course.
Besides, I never ever ever try to talk directly to the celebrities. Ever. I didn’t even go to the HIM meet-and-greet in my city back when I was obsessed with Ville Valo, because I didn’t want to meet him from inside my fat body and from behind my busted, harelipped face. The mortification would just be too much. 😢 I know he would not have given a shit – but I would have. The only time I ever came to communicated with a celebrity is when I tweeted to @thekatvond that she was the crown princess of cryptic tweets, (back when she wouldn’t stfu about her own obsession/half-assed relationship with Ville Valo and tweeted cryptically about him 24/7) and she tweeted back that she had never been called the crown princess of anything before, but she liked the title so she would accept it. Smart ass. 😆
Oh, and once I tweeted to @stevewinwood that I loved his work. He did not reply. Yowza.
The worst I do is leave scathing, inflammatory comments in the comments sections of high-traffic gossip sites. Not the maturest or most productive behavior, perhaps, but those jerks deserve a little vitriol. Mara in particular. GRR! Why in the fuck does her life get to be so magical? What did she do to deserve it? What did I do to not deserve such a life? However, as sweet as the fantasies may be (kidding!) (maybe!) I have no intention of stalking or killing the vapid little bitch or her extremely pretty yet tragically foolish man.
I have got to figure out what the hell trackbacks and pingbacks are. I disabled them in my blog settings but now (since I had linked the blind gossip item to another rant on my blog here before I knew to do that) there’s a link to my blog on crazydaysandnights.net in the comments section of a blind gossip item about the #rodetheirsiblingscoattailsclub (aka Rooney, JP and Affleck). Fuck. I can’t figure out how to get it off of there… I disabled pinging and tracking and even changed the bloody url but it still links to my blog entry, even though I completely deleted the link from my blog.
Oh well. Learning what all of that shit is and how it works and how to delete it and prevent it from happening again will be one more distraction from that idiot man and his blandly offensive little girlfriend. God damn the both of ’em anyway. Rich, privileged jerks.
WordPress will probably inform Meredith that I linked to her blog as well. Oh well. I didn’t say anything unkind or untrue about her here, and I doubt she’ll come to my house and hit me over it. We’ll see.
Maybe I’ll start teaching myself coding or hacking or maybe even building with mesh in a 3D environment. Almost anything has to be better than sitting around obsessing over and/or hating on a couple of rich, spoiled assholes who don’t know that I exist (and wouldn’t give a fuck even if they did).
The common sense part of my brain does not want a man. I wish the fanciful, fantasy and hormone-driven parts of my brain would quit wanting one as well. Everything would be so goddamned much easier.
Being alone, untouched, unloved – it is not an easy life.
Son of a bitch! It just started hailing. Hard. So much for my fucking thrift shop trip and my ham sub sandwich. God damn it! 😞 I guess I’ll just stay home and eat canned soup and blog some more. Damn it!