))||||||D

Why do I always feel sexually frustrated? I’m starting to believe that I legitimately have a dysfunctional train of thought when it comes to sex. Intimacy, you know? I have this malicious plan in my mind to destroy anyone that immediately wants something MORE than casual fornication. It’s just so incomprehendable – you don’t NEED to get to know me, and I promise it won’t get awkward. I’ll just deliberately drain the chemicals from your brain.

I find I place myself in the most uncomfortable positions.. On purpose.  I can’t fathom anything generic (please do not refer to the post below, IE my obsession with generecy, LULZ), so I have to find something remotely easy to dismantle and make it feel worth Forever. I am Sandra’s own hypocracy. Most of the time, I make absolutely NO sense, and that’s deliberately what I’m trying to get across to my audience, because when registered through me, it’s penetratable. 

ANYWAY, I’m going to loosen my pride, and go where most people (more than likely) have gone before.
(I’ve been stuck at that sentence for over 2 months)
Being Sandra Dominguez doesn’t exactly mean flowetry, and since I just received a message obviously pointing out my writers block, I think that may indicate the lack of motivation, drive, and intelligence on my behalf. I think it’s safe when I say that someone DEFINITELY just tampered with my intellectual stamina.

I’m going to move on and ignore that specific last paragraph written because I’m confident enough to NOT be confident enough to precede with whatever gaffotry was reminiscing through my mind, at the time. Incidentally enough, it probably had something to do with my egocentric character – most of you at this time are questioning which one, and my retort to that is – “I don’t know.”

God forbid my mother has access to this page.
Forgive my omission, PT2 to follow.

Why So Serious?

(This posting has been surprisingly inspired by certain individuals who’s names will remain anonymous)

Since when was being considered generic a default faux pas? I’ve come to the conclusion that the attempt to be different IS generic – assuming that we’re living in a society full of humans eager and arduously dying to be UNIQUE, SPONTANEOUS, and ZOMGYOURSTYLEANDSENSEOFMUSICISSUPERIORTOANYONEBECAUSEI’VENEVERHEARDOFTHATBANDYOUJUSTMENTIONED. OHBTWWHEREDIDYOUGETTHATSCARFFROMFOREVER21MAYBE

Honestly, I LOVE generecy (and I don’t know why, but this should be a fucking adjective). Admittedly, I love Brand New, and Jimmy Eat World, and Taking Back Sunday and probably hundreds of other artists who wouldn’t be considered socially deceptive because they JUST don’t God damn change. I don’t want them to – and this non-subversive change is what I personally find an attachment to. It’s a personal growth and developmental thing: I absolutely LOVE Deja Entendu exclusively because it depicts episodes in my life that I deeply connect to abysmally – and you? You like The Moldy Peaches for it’s pseudo Indie sound and connectivity to the overrated Juno film, that also happens to depict exaggerated teenagers with unrealistic witty candor.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’d love to quote Jessica Jane Isabelle Rattrap: “We’re really running out of time” and that’s said with integrity. We desperately seek to make a connection, and rule anyone out through competition and deceit. I want REAL, I want blatant honesty directly in my face, and I want to cherish this for the rest of my life. There’s change, and there’s CHANGE – decipher that however you want to, because there are loose coins in your pocket, and I have two cents to give to you.

As most of you know, I’m residing in Vancouver. As most of you also know, I’m lusting over every corner of this city. From the beautiful Sea Wall, to Robson Street, to Port Moody I’m surrounded by an atmosphere in it’s purest form most comparable to Jesus Christ himself. I could go on a tangent about the endless possibilities, the smiles, and the lifestyle: there is an inexplicable connection with the soil, and a profound relationship with the Earth, so surreal.

Anyway, I’d like to take this opportunity to inform everyone that I’ll be coming to T.O for my birthday (because there’s no one else I’d like to spend time with than with the people I love), not only to celebrate my birth and the release of The Dark Knight, which is going to be impressively the most amazing film of 08 – but I’m anticipating to meet Roman, who I’ve heard is the most beautiful child of the most beautiful mother, Bronwyn. I’m eager to hold him, and kiss him, and eat his delicious baby legs. NOM! ;o

1:Corinthians 16:14

I’m numb. It took me a LONG time to finally write something without having to obsessively click on the ‘WordPress’ short cut embedded on Mozilla. I suppose I could talk about my (recently) ended relationship, as Ruben never reads my blogs anyway, and surprisingly it makes me feel better because I don’t have to void anything (or sugar coat it, for lack of a better word).

This will be the first time I write in detail about my relationship: Ruben and I. Sandra and Ruben. Ruben and Sandra.
Although writing those two names together, and countlessly whispering it’s perfection in my head – it’s far from that. I constantly ask a list of questions in my head pertaining to 3 different categories: School, Work, and Bi-Polar.

Could this relationship have been successful if I were? If I had been going to school to attain the knowledge of moving forward, working, having been medicated, and socially experimenting with groups aside from Rubens? Would I still have been pathetically miserable? Would I still have been a hermit in an empty house? Would I have been a totally different person? Or is that person who’s constantly unable to control their emotions permanently emotionally unstable? Why was it so hard? Was it just because we weren’t compatible? (Am I just trying to justify my failure? Is this my post breakup heartache talking?) My heart is thumping aggressively against my throat, and my appetite has withered. The tears are rolling effortlessly down my face, and as I’ve told you once, I wish the answers were whispered in my ear. That I would wake up, and immediately take in what I dislike about you – what you dislike about me. I want to become your perfect partner. I want it to be convenient for both of us. But I interrupt myself and those questions are so fucking insatiable. Why did I just say all of that? Right now there is an album of (positive) memories in my head, and it feels like someone is forcing my eyelids open. In your own words “An amp turned up so loud, there is no signal”, but I don’t want to keep looking! I don’t want to keep listening! I want the OTHER album, with all of your deceit. With the fights, and your annoying habits, and the constant arguing, and your imperfect knowledge of street smarts.. And your beautiful face.. And your words of wisdom, advice, and kindness. Your “what do you want for dinner tonight?”’s, and “Cat sacrifice!” songs. Your attempts to be sexy in bed, – your intellectual superiority, and arrogance, your self importance, and selfishness. Your delicious smell – Oh God, you smell so good. Your lack of eye contact when I would speak to you, your interest in T.V and your cellphone when I so God damn craved for your attention when you’d return from work. When I was no longer a priority. When I was so in love with you, I would leave everything and everyone behind. When I put down my pride, but you still held yours high.

Some people were made to be better friends, and horrible lovers.
And for those who once thought like me, love is not enough.

I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train.

Where is the hand held instructional booklet with all the explanations? There is so much gay about to be written in this post, and I’m unsure where to begin. First off, I’m feeling a little washed up, with writers block and staring at this potentially lucrative blog that’s been ignored for months isn’t helping the joints in my fingers. Motivation has SERIOUSLY withered, and it’s NOT the pot. My original cat 180 died from kidney failure, and it was God damn depressing.. However, it’s replacement (who I’ve had longer) has brought back so much love in my life. Who the hell thought some lazy, furry creature looking up at me with such empathetic eyes would mean so much to me?

This reminds me of a recent documentary I saw titled: Guys and Dolls
I’m going to be honest, this documentary both weirded me out, and turned me on at the same time. The bizarre descriptions (making quite legit arguments) and the exposition and expression on feeling ‘love’, intimacy and companionship – anything you would expect from a typical, conventional relationship can be compared to that of a plastic doll, and a removable (also repairable) vagina. I don’t know WHO the narrator was, but his voice sounded WAY too comfortable during the narration. Perfect for the raging feminist who would go aggro berserk (Lyndsay) during the make out scenes.

Anyway, I’m going to Post Seacrest this one out because I have a disordered amount of questions that I need answering to immediately. Am I the only one with doubts about LOVE? Does it really last? I mean, is it as obvious and as strong the beginning? Middle? Nowhere near descending toward the end, but it’s evident that I’m deviated (I told you that gay would be existent). Last night I was BlogTV’ing and made it clear that Toronto was my route to freedom in March, during the 47th minute I got a proposition from this 37 year old business man located downtown (loaded, married and with children) about wanting to be my quote Sugar Daddy unquote. Although the offer was tempting – correction, VERY tempting (COME ON – the deal included straight up cash JUST for my company and various other benefits), I passed. I’ve never done something that stupid, yet brilliant in my life.. Though the move from Toronto to Arizona would be sufficient to say the least, crazy.

Anyway, Chuck Klosterman is fucking with my brain. And honestly, I just want to get it right the FIRST time – maybe this trip is going to be all right. Maybe it will answer my questions. But seriously, if I have to read another Post Secret like this again..

“Gained The Lead”

How many times do I have to die in order to learn that the Energy Sword should not be used through-out the entire session of a game? I keep getting told that the Battle Rifle is FAR more leet, though I hate having to zoom in (much like the sniper rifle) for a head shot. Fuck it – I’m sticking with my Assault Rifle. I’ve learned that there are WAY too many faggot weapons in Halo that require adeptness.
Also: Grade 3 lieutenant , FTW.

In irrelevant news, the household has attained two men of different race. This past week, we decided to adopt a ker-day who I straight up fell in love with.. at PetSmart. I decided to name it 180, after my favourite Taking Back Sunday song. Now the only reason why I got this cat, asides from wanting a companion, was because I wanted someTHING to replace Lady Wolf – who is the most mentally retarded cat in history, if she was ever documented. 180 is around 3 months old, and is curious as well as stealth (he’s such a big instigator) when trying to hunt down the new puppy – who’s also 7 weeks and belongs to Jenna. He was named Harper, after Ben Harper of course. Which was a total win.
Anyway, I’m hoping he’ll gain some legendary characteristics that will make him an epic pet.

Halloween is coming, and I’ll shortly will be nostalgic once more hoping I’d be getting obliterated with all sorts of substances with my friends. Unfortunately my green card has not arrived, so my presence will be elsewhere. We bought a pumpkin and carved something lame on it, like “R-oo-ben and Sandraah”. Get it? Admit that it’s hilarious, and witty. Okay, I have to admit that this blog is very try-hard.. It doesn’t feel genuine, and effortless like most of the blogs previously written.

Boring.

Pee-vee an J.

I’ve noticed quite recently that my mind is a complex pit of confusion. Have you ever looked under your bed (or anywhere that requires cleaning consistently – if you’re like me) and discovered objects that just leave you with a WTF face? I feel like when I talk to myself in the shower, or even analyze the way I interact with other individuals, I question every word that comes out of my mouth. “Who ARE you, Sandra?” – Have you asked yourself this question? Ever? Fuck, okay. It doesn’t matter because this is slowly drifting into the irrelevance department.

The point: Have you ever ‘pretended’ to ignore someone while they were talking because they were simply SO NOT interesting? I know, ignorant. But it feels so good. What’s more hilarious is that you won’t verbalize this nuisance, because they’re idiots, and can’t even read the moderate body language, and lethargic facial expressions one immediately paints on their face. Thus, you’re left disinterested, with an uninteresting person, talking about some uninteresting event that happened.  OH SHI- you were talking? -_-

I was going to start off with some redundant introduction to various pet peeves that cause my soul owwies. I promise, they were good. However, writing this has left me barren with the multiple epic peeves that I had written down somewhere ready to discuss. What’s even more hilarious is that all the previous paragraphs were introductions to this thesis.. SORRY!

Tonight I went to the season opener hockey game. Phoenix [which suck, but inexplicably scored 3 goals (I mean, come on - Gretzky is coaching these fools)] VS St Louis. Ruben scored elite suite tickets from this nice guy he hooked up at work.
Now, don’t judge, but Lauren and I are going to “So You Think You Can Dance” because that show is AWESOME – and because we can score the tickets through Ruben’s friend. And honestly, I want to get drunk and see people dance.

“Diwali is a celebration of the coronation of the God-king Rama-”

Driving down old town Mesa reminded me of Brant Street. No, not where Famous Players or Sobeys is.. I’m talking about LakeShore, nigga. It brought back Sound of Music, lunch-breaks, ice cream stroll memories. Of course, I didn’t really have enough time scanning the premises, but then again, we were on our way back from the Muse concert. This altered my expectations of what presentation and performance should be (the concert – not the town) and substance abusing..

On the topic of music, the brand new Motion City Soundtrack was purchased. So far, I’m pleased with what I’ve been listening to, though it’s music is linked directly to an anonymous, former soul mate. Pure LULZ!

Anyway, I really have nothing to write about. I’ve been spending A LOT of time on Halo III – hours, if that. I’ve progressed to General, and that’s quite skill for a womans. I mean, I don’t want to use that as an excuse, but let it be known that stepping down the PC gaming pedestal is difficult. Especially when you’re used to maneuvering around with the keyboard. Vito that.
I’ve also been bragging about the Canadian dollar. Not as much as I’d like to, which usually surpluses to the point of annoying-ness, but sufficient enough to make it known.. or let someone bring it up, and counter strike that mother fucker.

Did anyone see the season premier of The Office? God, I was so disappointed.

Also: Cocks.

Oh, SCHICK!

Bronwyn’s deficiency in the connectivity of internet’s sucks, thus my quarrel with VH1’s The Pick Up Artist will perhaps be shared with those who have read The Game (Neil Strauss) and have marveled in it’s psychological rape. The minute I entered Chapters the musk odor of leather covers, and fresh plastic christened my nostrils like the ‘devirgining’ of (enter Rattray and I’s night of drug intake here).
I made the nonsensical decision to let some coke fiend from Dimitri’s borrow it, never to have it returned back to the imbecile who allowed this act of kindness.. And perhaps, some sexual interest.

Anyway, I was recently house sitting for a couple of friends who went vacationing to Peru, Costa Rica, and Panama. I was left with the house for over 3 weeks with their furfag dog who’s job was to chew expensive Bose headphones, and hump my leg with his lipstick dick. Throughout that time I did absolutely nothing, exempt from having been influenced by Lyndsay’s movie recommendation: Zeitgeist, which by the way, contradicted itself in many ways, and may have had the potential to turn Everett lesbian. Who knows. If you know Lyndsay, I guarantee she’s splurged about this movie, no doubt. I did however, believe in it’s many theory’s.

If you would have asked me prior to moving here if I would have missed my counter-parts back at home, I most likely would have replied with some falsification like: “No”.
The conversation of how different the woman I have been introduced to and ‘forced’ to hang with in comparison to the one’s I (literally) KNOW back home was spontaneously brought up. I’m going to sound (embarrassingly enough) freakish when I say this.. And I speak about all the girls I’ve shared intellectual and meaningful conversations with. The one’s I’ve made out with, and the one’s I’ve lived with. The one’s who know my weaknesses and strengths just as well as I know there’s (even though they may have never been verbally expressed). I have EVERYTHING memorized. From the brim of what you like to wear, to how you smell. Your facial expressions between every emotion, and your nutritional preferences. Your family, beliefs, goals, (I can keep going..) I didn’t need to be your elementary BFFFL to know this.

Also, the topic of Google was brought up with an internetz pal. >_< He discussed and described to me 10 of the reasons why we, as users, should HATE Google. I’m going to be honest, it was unlike anything I had ever heard before, and the one that one that made an impression on me SCREAMED Big Brother. Google is apparently the most nonchalant spy in the world. What it does is it stores the information YOU search in a private folder and plants cookies onto your drive (these CANNOT be deleted) where it relates certain searches to your interests using previous and former searches. So the Government knows exactly who you are, psychologically. Understanding, analyzing and researching the information entered on the search bar to gain knowledge of your interests – making it an accurate FAILGET.
This almost enrages me as much as Mike Vick’s psychotic mentality on dog fighting. GG, MIKE – YOU SURE GOT GAME, FTL.
Hope you get just as much of it in your asshole behind bars.

Last night Ruben and his boys had fantasy football faggotry. A ‘no girls allowed’ club of gayness. You can clearly see how upset I am, as I’ve been consistently getting rejected from activities such as ‘manly’ poker nights, and all sorts of manliness that apparently my homogeneous parts can not relate to. Thus, Lauren and I preceded in getting to know each other by succumbing to The /poo/Nanny Diaries, and some dinner at P.F. Chang’s.

HOW DOES I MAKE ASIAN DUMPling?

: 3

Flaccid-

I’ve been struggling in finding out WHY ‘300′ was made into such a big deal. Okay, don’t get me wrong – I really enjoyed the film, and the amount of male hormone it projected. The hype, however, was only feeding my expectations, thus the growth was most likely above the over-all quality of the film. Listen, I just saw it. Don’t reply with something like “YOU JUST SAW THE MOVIE LOL” Question mark.
Most of all, I enjoyed how the Arcadians faggoted off. Faggoted, you say? Whatever, you’re not surprised. In fact, you love the word.

Also, I just rented The Waking Life. Someone from BlogTV has been bugging me about it for DAYS, and since we have similar tastes in music film, and awesomesauce, I thought I’d give it a try. By the way, he is hysterical. He made a re-creation of the 90’s song “We didn’t start the fire” and replaced it with lyrics revolving around everything (mostly) that occured in the 90’s. Here’s the link: ^_^ (You should appreciate the fact I’m involving you in my internets, because it’s not necessarily the most boastful topic) -Anyway, you’ll love it.

Since we’re on the topic of BlogTV, I’ve been ‘busy’ creating (pointless) shows where regulars will join forces and play Cherades, or Replace movie titles with the word “Pussy”, and Kareoke. It’s the most fun I’ve had online since Jessica Rattray and I snorted Coke, K, swollowed E, and got Chronicles of Ridiculous drunk that one night. Oh wait.. That has no relevance to the internet.

Asides from that, the XBOX has returned to us, and with Halo 3 approaching.. That can only mean an imbibing of excitement.

Also: I masturbated to this, this morning. Don’t be ashamed to click it, nor fight the temptation to do as I have.

“Perhaps you’re made of shoddy materials, Megatron!”

Okay. With my birthday having passed (I did nothing, except hang out with Ruben and get – Oh, hi! – and play Gin), and having the XBOX break down by displaying an error message in 120 different languages, most of them being asian – I’m fucked. We haven’t been able to watch Planet Earth, or in my case, Halo or Star Wars Lego for an elongated period of time..Until last night, ladies and gentlemen. Ben decided to borrow (a DVD player, suffice to say) from his friend who literally just lives across the street, so we could experience both Smoking Aces (you have my word. It’s good), and Planet Earth’s CAVES (which in my opinion is one of the best episodes in the series) in one night.  We rolled a huge joint as a preliminary step.
I just recently saw Transformers. Have I talked about this already? Okay, but have I gone into depth about it?
Although I’ve always been a fan of Optimus Prime, I can safely say I’ve walked along the path (proudly) by the Decepticons – Shut up. Because this says nothing about my personality. Megatron is intelligent (and hot as hell). Why would anyone want to save a species such as us humans?! We spread disease, war, and alongside that supreme point - seven other deadly sins. If the Autobots wouldn’t have preceded with their faggotry, Cybertron would have never been divided. Let’s not forget the most FAGGOT of all Autbots: Bumblebee.

“MY LEGS HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. LAYING, JUST DYING, HERE.”

Beast Wars for life.

Is anyone else reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? I’ve had spoilers ruin it for me on 4Chan and I’m thinking of laying it to rest. Which speaking of, my attendance has been AWOL. Moar like, Hedwig the owl is dead, AMIRITE LOL? Okay, sorry. I also read an exclusive article listing detailed ‘key’ points about the plot, which also killed it for me.

Anyway, I’ve found a new interest in life. I wouldn’t doubt any of you haven’t heard of this before, but I wouldn’t count on everyone having experienced it either. OKAY, THE SUSPENSION IS KILLING YOU – but honestly, it’s just www.blogtv.com. And I don’t know why, but it’s an addiction. Haven’t figured out whether the comparison between ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy’ addiction matters yet, as I’m doing nothing with my life, but I’m expecting it to be grande. 
It’s Monsoon season here in Arizona, and I would love to capture some snap shots of lightning, and the wall of dust/sand that covers the city for you. For a second, you get a glimpse of the end of the world, and for some reason – it feels safe thinking about it.

Important, but not worth expanding subjects:

1) Lyndsay Lohan – WTF.
2) John from Cincinnati (is anyone else following this berserk aggregation of ‘WHAT?’)