Yeah, the Shirley Temple/ Maraschino Cherry combo is a delightful trip down memory lane. I’m sure most of you haven’t had a Shirley Temple in a while, probably since you were a kid. Cause now we have ALCOHOL and who needs Shirley? Or Roy Rogers? (Coke with Grenadine.) They’re not going to get us drunk. I’m happy to say that for me I get about as much enjoyment from Shirley Temple than Jack Daniels. And who wants to get drunk anyway? I much prefer being freakishly happy than being a boozy dame. Because alcohol I find that I drink to alleviate, ignore, and, against my wishes, exacerbate problems.

Anyway, I’m happy. Moral of the story, drink a Shirley Temple. Because she’s not just a little brat, she’s a sweet little girl who wants her cherries popped.

See what I did there? Oh shush, you love it you filthy animal.

Here’s what I get out of Otherside. It’s about compromising yourself for someone you love and they don’t feel the same. The is person a jerk because they’re deliberately pulling you along making you think there’s something to rekindle. And you really they’re doing this to you but still love em and that makes you numb because you know you shouldn’t. So you go to the Otherside and don’t express how you feel because it hurts. Ultimately, it’s a song about loneliness, lust and trying to feel whole again.

Am I on the right track? Well, this how I feel. There are a number of interpretations for this. Now it’s time for some outside research, boo ya! Alright, so I’m on the right track. I skimmed a few unreliable sources saying Anthony Keidis wrote this while dealing with heroin addiction. So, along with the corruption in California, lonliness, and lust just throw in a drug addiction.

Cool! I can analyze songs! Now, onto the music video. It’s a mix of M.C. Esher battling Cubism with Nosferatu like shooting and a hint of Edgar Allen Poe, mainly because he fights a Raven.

I love this song and video. It’s dark, dynamic, and mesmerizing.
Otherside – Red Hot Chili Peppers

That is all.

In my personal experience, I have gentlemen falling over me ALL the time. And as flattering as this is, it gets annoying being the heartbreaker when just downright don’t like said person that way. I talk to my mum about these things and she’s like, “Oh, but he’s so sweet.” Yeah, but I’m not going to be a sympathy girlfriend or compromise my standards for some guy who I’m not crazy about. And that’s just it. I have to fall for the guy in order for a relationship to work. I have to fall for him like a piano from a skyscraper, till I ooze at his feet. My last boyfriend, we’ll just call Bill. Bill, fell for me like a ton of bricks. At the time, I was three months fresh out of my third breakup with Drew. What was wrong with Drew, you ask? I’ll tell you just what. I dated him because I was depressed. And he was depressed too! So, it just made sense. And I would’ve have dumped him sooner had he not said, “I’ve never had a girlfriend longer than three months.” So, of course, I endured another month due to my idiotic personal competitiveness. Broke up in January, mourned for a week, and then my happiness meter went through the roof! No, not because of some guy. Because I was genuinely happy with who I was, where I was going, and what I was doing. My self-esteem flourished and I was as radiant as the sun. Looking back, I wonder if I could ever be that happy again. As I grow older, I just feel more corrupt.

But yes, Bill. Bill met me, fell for me, hard, and eventually asked me to be his girlfriend. I didn’t give him an answer right away, I spent the day thinking about it. And the main thought was, do I want to take that risk? Do I dare be in a relationship with a guy that I kind of like? And do I like him because he’s nuts over me? I took a bite out of risk, and became his girlfriend. Now, he really grew on me. I loved making him smile and laugh. And the first year and a half was marvelous! It was love. It turned into love. I loved him! He was my first love. I supported him and would do anything as long as I could be by his side. But does it have to turn into love? Is that real love? I’d say yes. I loved Bill. And then he turned. Transformed into this selfish being, this dread inducing monster. He lost his job, that caused depression, and he took me down with him. And fixing relationships, I’ve learned… is damn near impossible. In this case, it was. Absolutely impossible. I broke up with him because I couldn’t stand who he became. We fought every two weeks, making love became fucking, and he didn’t have time for me, supposedly. But he sure had time for his computer, that’s for damn sure. Three way relationship and I was getting the least amount of oxygen. So yes, I broke up with him and it destroyed me. I didn’t want to, I tried repairing us. But this is one thing duck tape can’t fix. I cried every morning, thought about him like mad. And we tried being friends, but that doesn’t fly that soon out of a relationship.

I’m not sure what’s left of him now. I feel like I’ve killed him, killed that part of him that I fell in love with. Something, that others would find beautiful just as much as I did. And I believe, this is my fault. Maybe, I shouldn’t have dated him in the first place. But then I think, I wouldn’t have the friends and experiences that I have now. How different of a person would I be? I don’t regret dating Bill. Not for one second. I hope his intentions are good and that he’s building his esteem back up.

So yes, I’m a heartbreaker. But not in a cruel sense I hope. I mean, seriously. I can’t help it if the guy at the bank is SO enamored with me that he must call my home telephone every two weeks to make sure that savings account I cancelled is giving me any problems. Nope, it’s still closed, thanks. Or the drunk fifty year old Muslim man proposing to me on the street saying that he can tell I have a good heart even though he knows NOTHING about me. Is it my face? What? Like, I don’t wear makeup… maybe I should apply makeup to look hideous or something. Perhaps its my personality… I don’t want to bash myself now. I love who I am and I wouldn’t want to be even a fraction different.

But now, I have recovered from the harsh breakup with Bill of six months ago and have found myself falling, not like a piano from a skyscraper, no, more like King Kong crushing a helicopter falling from the Chrysler Building into a pool of melted chocolate for Marc. All names have been changed to protect identities here. I chose this name because I think he looks like that guy from T. Rex.

ANYWAYS. Here’s the point I’ve been trying to make for the past 1021 words! The GAME OF LOVE. LET’S PLAY! Based on your intentions! And for the moment we’ll focus on two broad views, honest versus malicious. I have a friend who talks about “being out of the game” or “not having enough game.” At first when he said this I was like, “Well, that’s your problem. You’re viewing it as a GAME. That’s not the root of the problem, however. You’re objective here: sex a.k.a. game. And based on this objective your malicious intentions seep through your pores. Malicious might be a rough word. How about, desperate? There, now at least it sounds like you have a problem and you’re not some malicious assmunch.

Now, don’t paint me out to be this little angel however. Oh, I’m not. I’ve been sexually frustrated, desperate, depressed, drunk, had my fair share of hookups. It’s part of the human condition. And because I realized this,  I made sure to note that I had no intentions of getting into a relationship with any guy who’s face I wanted to maul. And usually, that was the case for him too! So, hey! Plus for getting our jollies without emotional connection, woo! And that line there can lead me into tangent which I will keep at bay at this time. I’ll just say this, intimacy is 10,000 times better when you really friggin’ like someone. Hookups = artificial love and that’s just sad.

But yes, my intentions are honest and true. Previous to my latest love interest I found myself in a good state. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, wasn’t desperate, happy with myself. Pretty fucking happy with how things were going. And my latest rule, that I hope will lead to a fantastic relationship someday, is being heels over head for a guy. Honestly, heels over head is a lot more impressive than heads over heels. Who came up with that phrase, anyway? So, yes. That’s how I feel now. Heels over head. I’m taking it slow and seeing where this takes me. But I’ll say this, I’m electrified over this one. And he knows who he is.

Right, game of love. Gosh, is it really almost 1am? Piss, okay. I’ll make this quick. Maybe. I play the game of love honestly with an open heart. I didn’t go searching for it, it found me. And now that it has me in it’s embrace, I’ll play. And people tell me, “Oh, wait till he texts you,” or “Oh, play it cool” bull shit. All these rules! I might be a little melodramatic here but damn, are they frustrating! There shouldn’t be stupid rules like that! Yes, I understand I have to contain myself despite how thrilling it is to like someone and them back. It seems like the only game of love I’m playing is mental. Mind love games. OH! That’s the worst. Because paranoia comes to play, then nerves brings his buddy anxiety. And then they have a mental mind fuck threesome! OH! Individual mind games are the WORST. That’s how you go crazy my friend! In this case, playing it cool is a good rule and it wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t have mental mind fuck going on.

I think I’ve made my point. If you want to be truly happy, first be happy with yourself. And if love comes along, take a ride in it’s gondola down the river with a fancy white lace umbrella. Nothing is more magnificent than being in a relationship knowing that everything you’re doing is right. And that’s because your heart is true.