Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
The Final Installment
Part IV : The Ball. Yea, I can't come up with anything witty to put here.
So,I was nervous about the ball but I didn't think it would be THAT stressful. I kept telling myself "I mean, they ARE serving wine". I was also under the impression that I would be allowed to stand in the corner with Mash and make snarky comments. Instead, I was a key part of an elaborate dog and pony show. In fact, I believe I was the pony.
Yea, I was definitely the pony.
Mike: "this is Lizbet."
Person I'm being introduced to: Hi Lizbet, where are you from?
Me: Alabama
PIBIT: Ahh-luh-ba-muh? Well aren't you just... (insert southernism that will inevitably sound completely ridiculous coming out of the mouth of a dude from Jersey. Options include: a) sweeter than sugar (b)pretty as a peach (c)cute as can be. This happened four times before I started telling people I'm from Wisconsin)
I met a ton of people. It was weird because not many would look me in the eye when we were talking.I told Mike and he mumbled something about "territorial issues" and from then on I told them that I was Mikes cousin. That really pissed him off but I ain't no mans property. Unfortunately, this back fired. When they realized that I didn't "belong" to anyone they started...... um.....misbehaving. After the second person "accidentally" slapped me on the ass, I started telling people we were engaged.
It's been a while since I've been to a fraternity party and I had totally forgotten how a bunch of men act when there's booze involved. It isn't pretty.
All in all, it was fun and Mike was very polite and I had a good time. We hung out for the rest of the weekend, went to the beach and saw the base. The flight back was great compared to the one out and I came home and slept for about sixteen hours.
Tomorrow is Halloween! It's hard for me to part with candy but if it's going into the tummies of cute little children in costumes, I don't mind so much.On the upside, November will arrive with NEW and EXCITING topics! Get fired up.
So,I was nervous about the ball but I didn't think it would be THAT stressful. I kept telling myself "I mean, they ARE serving wine". I was also under the impression that I would be allowed to stand in the corner with Mash and make snarky comments. Instead, I was a key part of an elaborate dog and pony show. In fact, I believe I was the pony.
Yea, I was definitely the pony.
Mike: "this is Lizbet."
Person I'm being introduced to: Hi Lizbet, where are you from?
Me: Alabama
PIBIT: Ahh-luh-ba-muh? Well aren't you just... (insert southernism that will inevitably sound completely ridiculous coming out of the mouth of a dude from Jersey. Options include: a) sweeter than sugar (b)pretty as a peach (c)cute as can be. This happened four times before I started telling people I'm from Wisconsin)
I met a ton of people. It was weird because not many would look me in the eye when we were talking.I told Mike and he mumbled something about "territorial issues" and from then on I told them that I was Mikes cousin. That really pissed him off but I ain't no mans property. Unfortunately, this back fired. When they realized that I didn't "belong" to anyone they started...... um.....misbehaving. After the second person "accidentally" slapped me on the ass, I started telling people we were engaged.
It's been a while since I've been to a fraternity party and I had totally forgotten how a bunch of men act when there's booze involved. It isn't pretty.
All in all, it was fun and Mike was very polite and I had a good time. We hung out for the rest of the weekend, went to the beach and saw the base. The flight back was great compared to the one out and I came home and slept for about sixteen hours.
Tomorrow is Halloween! It's hard for me to part with candy but if it's going into the tummies of cute little children in costumes, I don't mind so much.On the upside, November will arrive with NEW and EXCITING topics! Get fired up.
Arriving Departed.
Part III: "Oh, we have 12 vacancies. 12 cabins, 12 vacancies."-Norman Bates.
Well, after the free beer was passed around, everyone on the plane got trashed and we all joined in and sang kumbaya and shared a bag of pretzels. It was very reminiscent of the elevator scene in "You've Got Mail" or any of the movies where people don't know each other but are forced together because of situations out of their control and then they bond and I stopped recording the events on my vomit bag.
And then we landed.
I had totally forgotten why I was even on a plane at this point. I hadn't had anything to eat since a handful of greasy hash browns circa three a.m. , the beer had kicked in and Mash and I were just so ready to get out that we didn't give a fuck if we were about to be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara, left to wander the desert with nowhere to plug in our hot rollers.
Obviously, I flipped out a little.
I guess, to be fair, it was more like I turned the switch from "normal and slightly drunk girl on a plane" to "militant". I was not getting off. Sorry folks, party's over. I WANT TO GO HOME.
Unfortunately for me, Mash had made friends with the Marine sitting behind us (later I discovered that everyone in Jacksonville is a Marine ,so it wasn't that weird that Ashley and I were the only a)women on the plane and b) non-marines on the plane) and she un-buckled my seat belt and grabbed my carry on while he said, "I'm sorry I have to do this, but your friend asked me to and she's hot". He then proceeded to PRY MY ASS OUT OF THE SEAT AND SHOVE ME TO THE DOOR.
In retrospect, Mash did me a favor because I would later find out that a bet was made that I would be the last person off of the plane. I wasn't.... So this made me look more excited and less terrified (which wasn't the case).
SO, there I am. Off the plane. Standing on the runway, in the rain, like an idiot, while Mash gets the phone number of the dude that man-handled me off the plane "in case we need something later" ...riiiiighht. I look over to the terminal and see the reflection of myself in the mirrored windows. That would be the first of many times during the trip that I actually thought "Oh, good grief, I feel sorry for HIM." I looked exactly like someone who had slept for two hours, been up since three, laid on the floor of an airport for seven hours, and had six beers in twenty minutes.
Mash walked up and we had no choice but to go inside.
I know this sounds weird, but I don't really remember too much about meeting him and getting the luggage and getting into the car. I guess total panic had set in and so it is all very fuzzy. I DO remember him walking up to me and trying to give me a hug but he was using both hands and I was going to do the whole one-arm-hug thing and it was really awkward.
So, we left the airport and headed to THE BATES MOTEL (Attn: Marcy. see Psycho for reference). On a scale of one to ten on the "nice hotel" rank (one being the lowest) this wasn't a decimal over a 2. We were running so late that I DID NOT GET TO TAKE A SHOWER. Can you EVEN imagine how disgusting I was at this point? I washed my face and fixed my hair and make-up and dumped about a third of my perfume bottle all over my body. Then I started chain smoking.
And that's where I'll leave you.
*up next: The ball. Yup.
Well, after the free beer was passed around, everyone on the plane got trashed and we all joined in and sang kumbaya and shared a bag of pretzels. It was very reminiscent of the elevator scene in "You've Got Mail" or any of the movies where people don't know each other but are forced together because of situations out of their control and then they bond and I stopped recording the events on my vomit bag.
And then we landed.
I had totally forgotten why I was even on a plane at this point. I hadn't had anything to eat since a handful of greasy hash browns circa three a.m. , the beer had kicked in and Mash and I were just so ready to get out that we didn't give a fuck if we were about to be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara, left to wander the desert with nowhere to plug in our hot rollers.
Obviously, I flipped out a little.
I guess, to be fair, it was more like I turned the switch from "normal and slightly drunk girl on a plane" to "militant". I was not getting off. Sorry folks, party's over. I WANT TO GO HOME.
Unfortunately for me, Mash had made friends with the Marine sitting behind us (later I discovered that everyone in Jacksonville is a Marine ,so it wasn't that weird that Ashley and I were the only a)women on the plane and b) non-marines on the plane) and she un-buckled my seat belt and grabbed my carry on while he said, "I'm sorry I have to do this, but your friend asked me to and she's hot". He then proceeded to PRY MY ASS OUT OF THE SEAT AND SHOVE ME TO THE DOOR.
In retrospect, Mash did me a favor because I would later find out that a bet was made that I would be the last person off of the plane. I wasn't.... So this made me look more excited and less terrified (which wasn't the case).
SO, there I am. Off the plane. Standing on the runway, in the rain, like an idiot, while Mash gets the phone number of the dude that man-handled me off the plane "in case we need something later" ...riiiiighht. I look over to the terminal and see the reflection of myself in the mirrored windows. That would be the first of many times during the trip that I actually thought "Oh, good grief, I feel sorry for HIM." I looked exactly like someone who had slept for two hours, been up since three, laid on the floor of an airport for seven hours, and had six beers in twenty minutes.
Mash walked up and we had no choice but to go inside.
I know this sounds weird, but I don't really remember too much about meeting him and getting the luggage and getting into the car. I guess total panic had set in and so it is all very fuzzy. I DO remember him walking up to me and trying to give me a hug but he was using both hands and I was going to do the whole one-arm-hug thing and it was really awkward.
So, we left the airport and headed to THE BATES MOTEL (Attn: Marcy. see Psycho for reference). On a scale of one to ten on the "nice hotel" rank (one being the lowest) this wasn't a decimal over a 2. We were running so late that I DID NOT GET TO TAKE A SHOWER. Can you EVEN imagine how disgusting I was at this point? I washed my face and fixed my hair and make-up and dumped about a third of my perfume bottle all over my body. Then I started chain smoking.
And that's where I'll leave you.
*up next: The ball. Yup.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Fly the Friendly Skies
Part II:Flight
Friday Morning:
So, I had totally forgotten how much I hate to fly. The Turbulence, the sardine-like atmosphere and the complete lack of vodka on this seven-thirty a.m. flight has put me in a mood. Also, I'm hungover and concerned about the contents of my suitcase. Last night, I decided to wait until AFTER I consumed the super large bottle of chardonnay to pack. I have no earthly idea what I put in but I have a bad feeling that its contents are little more than a dirty sock and some lip gloss.
Speaking of lip gloss, they are NOT kidding about that shit. Mash and I didn't realize that unless you have your ONE TUBE of lip gloss in a plastic bag, you cannot get through security. Like zip-lock forms some kind of protective barrier between sparkling goo and the traveling public. OH GOD, THAT WOMAN HAS A TUBE OF BONNEBELLE. HIT THE FLOOR.
Friday Night:
Aw, HELL naw.
Our flight has been delayed for seven hours because of inclement weather. We are finally on the plane. The plane had been overloaded by fifteen thousand pounds. The flight attendant has spent the last two hours begging for volunteers to take another flight. I am going to miss the ball. I am stuck on a plane. I have no alcohol. I have no paper. I am writing this on the back of A VOMIT BAG.
Wait a minute.
Yay! The Tulane track and field team has decided to drive! We're taking off! If the stupid nitwit had agreed to bump them to first class in the first place we would not be in this situation.
Stupid nitwit has since made up for stupidity and nitwittieness by announcing:
" I am tired. I am not doing the safety briefing. In the event of an emergency, well...you're screwed. Now raise your hand if you want a beer."
My empty suitcase and puke-sack journaling are no longer bothering me.
I have free airplane beer.
*More will come later, right now I'm exhausted.
Friday Morning:
So, I had totally forgotten how much I hate to fly. The Turbulence, the sardine-like atmosphere and the complete lack of vodka on this seven-thirty a.m. flight has put me in a mood. Also, I'm hungover and concerned about the contents of my suitcase. Last night, I decided to wait until AFTER I consumed the super large bottle of chardonnay to pack. I have no earthly idea what I put in but I have a bad feeling that its contents are little more than a dirty sock and some lip gloss.
Speaking of lip gloss, they are NOT kidding about that shit. Mash and I didn't realize that unless you have your ONE TUBE of lip gloss in a plastic bag, you cannot get through security. Like zip-lock forms some kind of protective barrier between sparkling goo and the traveling public. OH GOD, THAT WOMAN HAS A TUBE OF BONNEBELLE. HIT THE FLOOR.
Friday Night:
Aw, HELL naw.
Our flight has been delayed for seven hours because of inclement weather. We are finally on the plane. The plane had been overloaded by fifteen thousand pounds. The flight attendant has spent the last two hours begging for volunteers to take another flight. I am going to miss the ball. I am stuck on a plane. I have no alcohol. I have no paper. I am writing this on the back of A VOMIT BAG.
Wait a minute.
Yay! The Tulane track and field team has decided to drive! We're taking off! If the stupid nitwit had agreed to bump them to first class in the first place we would not be in this situation.
Stupid nitwit has since made up for stupidity and nitwittieness by announcing:
" I am tired. I am not doing the safety briefing. In the event of an emergency, well...you're screwed. Now raise your hand if you want a beer."
My empty suitcase and puke-sack journaling are no longer bothering me.
I have free airplane beer.
*More will come later, right now I'm exhausted.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Definitely Definitive.
(* I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier Part II can be expected next Monday)
I'm drinking wine and watching MTV.
I drink wine almost every night so this isn't big news, the watching of the MTV doesn't happen so much. MTV just ran a particularly lame commercial encouraging its viewers (like me) to define themselves. I found this idea intriguing.
I couldn't think of anything witty or intelligent to say but I do have a story from Monday that might assist in the definition....Definitely.
In which I concuss myself.
Sooooo. Monday was a fun day, people. Fuuuunnnnn Daaaay.
I don't have class until 12:45 every day. Yea, I have such a tough life...I know. Anyway, I got in the shower around 10ish and was in the process of getting the shampoo out of my hair when the doorbell rang. My mother looooves to drop by unannounced and if my car is outside and I do not answer the door, she will break it down. I'm kind of attached to my door, it's a good door....the paint is wearing off and the knob squeaks a little but it gets the job done. I do not want my door broken down. I bolted out of the shower, dripping wet, and ran to the door.
My mother was not at the door.
A Jehovah's Witness was. There I stood, dripping wet, mortified and partially covered with a towel while my feet could. not. move. We are talking paralyzing horror here, people. I feel bad for all of the years of yelling at girls in horror movies...yes, too bad no one yelled "DON'T JUST STAND THERE YOU STUPID BITCH, RUN!"
As you can imagine, the guy at the door was equally freaked out and our conversation went a little like this:
Me: Moth--oh. Um, I thought you were my Mother.... but you aren't.
JW: No, I'm Bill. You are, um,....you were just in the shower?
Me:Yes, yes I was.
JW: Well (trying desperately hard not to look at me in the face)I just wanted to share the teachings of the Bible with you.
Me: Oh, that is nice of you but I have a Bible, its right over there...see? OK, so I kinda need to go and put some clothes on and I'd rather do that in private.
JW: Um, yea...see here's the thing, I have a quota (*what the fuck? this guy actually expected me to stand in my doorway with a towel barely covering my ass just so he could meet his quota? WRONG-O)to meet today and it would be really helpful if you'd just listen for a minute.
Me: Dude, usually I would never be this assertive but I-AM-NAKED.
JW:Yea, I see your point. Well at least take this pamphlet?
Me: Fine, thanks, goodbye.
I bet you thought that was the end of the story didn't you? You would be wrong.
The guy leaves and my phone starts to ring, but my cell is in the bathroom. During my little chat with Bill, the shower curtain was carelessly left open and my tile floor was being hosed down. Guess what happened next. I ran to the bathroom. I slipped in the bathroom. I banged my head so hard on the floor in the bathroom that I saw little stars and birdies. My eyes welled up with tears and I reached up and grabbed the phone of the counter.
Me:(choking back tears from the pain, oh, the pain!) hello?
Mom: what's wrong? Why are you crying? Where are you? Are you dead?
Me: No Mother, I just answered the door naked and now I'm laying on the floor in my bathroom with a concussion.
(*I realized later that there were a few key words that should have been left out of this sentence. They include: door, naked, floor and concussion.)
Mom:....I'm coming over now. CLICK.
Me: fuck.
By the time my Mother arrived, I was dressed and holding a bag of ice on the back of my poor hurt little noggin. It took roughly thirty five minutes to convince her that, YES! I AM responsible enough to live by myself and I PROMISE I will never answer the door again. Even if I'm fully clothed.
I'm drinking wine and watching MTV.
I drink wine almost every night so this isn't big news, the watching of the MTV doesn't happen so much. MTV just ran a particularly lame commercial encouraging its viewers (like me) to define themselves. I found this idea intriguing.
I couldn't think of anything witty or intelligent to say but I do have a story from Monday that might assist in the definition....Definitely.
In which I concuss myself.
Sooooo. Monday was a fun day, people. Fuuuunnnnn Daaaay.
I don't have class until 12:45 every day. Yea, I have such a tough life...I know. Anyway, I got in the shower around 10ish and was in the process of getting the shampoo out of my hair when the doorbell rang. My mother looooves to drop by unannounced and if my car is outside and I do not answer the door, she will break it down. I'm kind of attached to my door, it's a good door....the paint is wearing off and the knob squeaks a little but it gets the job done. I do not want my door broken down. I bolted out of the shower, dripping wet, and ran to the door.
My mother was not at the door.
A Jehovah's Witness was. There I stood, dripping wet, mortified and partially covered with a towel while my feet could. not. move. We are talking paralyzing horror here, people. I feel bad for all of the years of yelling at girls in horror movies...yes, too bad no one yelled "DON'T JUST STAND THERE YOU STUPID BITCH, RUN!"
As you can imagine, the guy at the door was equally freaked out and our conversation went a little like this:
Me: Moth--oh. Um, I thought you were my Mother.... but you aren't.
JW: No, I'm Bill. You are, um,....you were just in the shower?
Me:Yes, yes I was.
JW: Well (trying desperately hard not to look at me in the face)I just wanted to share the teachings of the Bible with you.
Me: Oh, that is nice of you but I have a Bible, its right over there...see? OK, so I kinda need to go and put some clothes on and I'd rather do that in private.
JW: Um, yea...see here's the thing, I have a quota (*what the fuck? this guy actually expected me to stand in my doorway with a towel barely covering my ass just so he could meet his quota? WRONG-O)to meet today and it would be really helpful if you'd just listen for a minute.
Me: Dude, usually I would never be this assertive but I-AM-NAKED.
JW:Yea, I see your point. Well at least take this pamphlet?
Me: Fine, thanks, goodbye.
I bet you thought that was the end of the story didn't you? You would be wrong.
The guy leaves and my phone starts to ring, but my cell is in the bathroom. During my little chat with Bill, the shower curtain was carelessly left open and my tile floor was being hosed down. Guess what happened next. I ran to the bathroom. I slipped in the bathroom. I banged my head so hard on the floor in the bathroom that I saw little stars and birdies. My eyes welled up with tears and I reached up and grabbed the phone of the counter.
Me:(choking back tears from the pain, oh, the pain!) hello?
Mom: what's wrong? Why are you crying? Where are you? Are you dead?
Me: No Mother, I just answered the door naked and now I'm laying on the floor in my bathroom with a concussion.
(*I realized later that there were a few key words that should have been left out of this sentence. They include: door, naked, floor and concussion.)
Mom:....I'm coming over now. CLICK.
Me: fuck.
By the time my Mother arrived, I was dressed and holding a bag of ice on the back of my poor hurt little noggin. It took roughly thirty five minutes to convince her that, YES! I AM responsible enough to live by myself and I PROMISE I will never answer the door again. Even if I'm fully clothed.
Monday, October 23, 2006
I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier.
Part I
Fight or Flight
Special shoutout to my dermatologist who made me wait in her office for an hour and a half and then FINALLY came in and I shit you not, said, "I'm so glad you've finally decided to ignore society's standards of beauty and give up on being tan."
Wow.
My 8:00 a.m. appointment has nothing to do with this entry except that I wrote it out longhand in the waiting room.
This entry is about my anxiety about going to North Carolina with Mash for the ball. Yes. Very much anxiety, what with the not knowing this person and the not wanting to be left ALONE with him while Mash and her future husband run off to get away from us.
I have come up with a list of things that could possibly get me out of this, if anyone has any to add please let me know.
1. Fake appendicitis
2. "Lose" tickets, dress, wallet, car, toothbrush, cell phone and anything else crucial for trip.
3. Pretend to break leg.
4. Actually break leg. Options include: throwing self downstairs, jumping off roof, slamming leg in door. Extra points if it can be pulled off without scarring and if self is wasted enough while attempting "operation get a cast" to feel no pain.
5. Cry. Cry really hard. Cry to Mash. Mash will not care that self is crying, but she will go to the store and get more wine.
That's all I've come up with so far. I realize it is somewhat lacking in creativity but it is eight thirty in the f-ing morning and I had to get up at six just to get here in time to wait. I don't get creative until noonish. Also, I'm out of coffee.
Currently reading: The Penelopiad, it's by Margaret Atwood and it's basically a shortened version of Homer's Odyssey from Penelope's perspective. She breaks up Penelope's narratives with a chorus of the maids murdered upon Odysseus' return and they are my favorite part. Best lines of the book so far:
Oh gods and oh prophets, please alter my life,
And let a young hero take me for his wife!
But no hero comes to me, early or late-
Hard work is my destiny death is my fate!
Then sail, my fine lady, on the billowing wave-
The water below is as dark as the grave,
And maybe you'll sink in your little blue boat-
It's hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat.
I guess that's all I have for today! Part II's on it's way though.
Oh, and if I do manage to break my leg I'll need input on what color cast I should pick!
Fight or Flight
Special shoutout to my dermatologist who made me wait in her office for an hour and a half and then FINALLY came in and I shit you not, said, "I'm so glad you've finally decided to ignore society's standards of beauty and give up on being tan."
Wow.
My 8:00 a.m. appointment has nothing to do with this entry except that I wrote it out longhand in the waiting room.
This entry is about my anxiety about going to North Carolina with Mash for the ball. Yes. Very much anxiety, what with the not knowing this person and the not wanting to be left ALONE with him while Mash and her future husband run off to get away from us.
I have come up with a list of things that could possibly get me out of this, if anyone has any to add please let me know.
1. Fake appendicitis
2. "Lose" tickets, dress, wallet, car, toothbrush, cell phone and anything else crucial for trip.
3. Pretend to break leg.
4. Actually break leg. Options include: throwing self downstairs, jumping off roof, slamming leg in door. Extra points if it can be pulled off without scarring and if self is wasted enough while attempting "operation get a cast" to feel no pain.
5. Cry. Cry really hard. Cry to Mash. Mash will not care that self is crying, but she will go to the store and get more wine.
That's all I've come up with so far. I realize it is somewhat lacking in creativity but it is eight thirty in the f-ing morning and I had to get up at six just to get here in time to wait. I don't get creative until noonish. Also, I'm out of coffee.
Currently reading: The Penelopiad, it's by Margaret Atwood and it's basically a shortened version of Homer's Odyssey from Penelope's perspective. She breaks up Penelope's narratives with a chorus of the maids murdered upon Odysseus' return and they are my favorite part. Best lines of the book so far:
Oh gods and oh prophets, please alter my life,
And let a young hero take me for his wife!
But no hero comes to me, early or late-
Hard work is my destiny death is my fate!
Then sail, my fine lady, on the billowing wave-
The water below is as dark as the grave,
And maybe you'll sink in your little blue boat-
It's hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat.
I guess that's all I have for today! Part II's on it's way though.
Oh, and if I do manage to break my leg I'll need input on what color cast I should pick!
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Under the Sea,....and at the Mall
So, my sister is in town from college and we are hanging out and watching "The Little Mermaid" because we're cool like that. We are also eating candy. Lots and lots of candy. Tonight we are going to the movies!Yay!
Caro and I loooove Ariel. When we were little, this was the ONLY Disney movie my mother wouldn't let us watch. She didn't like the fact that the Prince falls in love with a half-naked chick who cannot talk....like the only reason he's with her is because of her physical attributes. I know there's nothing wrong with raising your daughters to believe that their purpose in life is not purely aesthetic....but I don't think we would like this movie half as much if she hadn't made such a big issue out of it.
I finally found a dress for the ball! Yesterday, my mother and I drove to Atlanta and shopped for hours and hours and hours and just when I had given up and decided that "I do not f-ing care, I shall wear a garbage bag with a hole cut out for my head" I came upon the one dress in all of the south that isn't an abomination against all that is holy in the fashion world.I saw some that were just absolutely heinous. I am a little worried about the dress I picked because it's red. I mean, it looks cute on and everything....it's just that I'm very fair skinned and I dunno if I'm too pale for this little number.
Whatever.
I have five days left before I leave. I am totally freaking out.Also, he's only 5'8" and I'm 5'6" AND I'm wearing heels! I hate being taller than my date. I wish I was a short girl.
Caro and I loooove Ariel. When we were little, this was the ONLY Disney movie my mother wouldn't let us watch. She didn't like the fact that the Prince falls in love with a half-naked chick who cannot talk....like the only reason he's with her is because of her physical attributes. I know there's nothing wrong with raising your daughters to believe that their purpose in life is not purely aesthetic....but I don't think we would like this movie half as much if she hadn't made such a big issue out of it.
I finally found a dress for the ball! Yesterday, my mother and I drove to Atlanta and shopped for hours and hours and hours and just when I had given up and decided that "I do not f-ing care, I shall wear a garbage bag with a hole cut out for my head" I came upon the one dress in all of the south that isn't an abomination against all that is holy in the fashion world.I saw some that were just absolutely heinous. I am a little worried about the dress I picked because it's red. I mean, it looks cute on and everything....it's just that I'm very fair skinned and I dunno if I'm too pale for this little number.
Whatever.
I have five days left before I leave. I am totally freaking out.Also, he's only 5'8" and I'm 5'6" AND I'm wearing heels! I hate being taller than my date. I wish I was a short girl.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Hey ya'll!
SO. Test week is officially over and I am celebrating with a massive glass of chardonnay. Plus: Grey's Anatomy tonight! Plus: Marie Antoinette tomorrow night! Good times. I would classify my mood as downright copacetic! On to the weekend, I will be shopping in Atlanta for a dress with Mommie Dearest. I know, aren't you jealous? Shut up, assholes. Hope everyone's havin' a great Thursday!
SO. Test week is officially over and I am celebrating with a massive glass of chardonnay. Plus: Grey's Anatomy tonight! Plus: Marie Antoinette tomorrow night! Good times. I would classify my mood as downright copacetic! On to the weekend, I will be shopping in Atlanta for a dress with Mommie Dearest. I know, aren't you jealous? Shut up, assholes. Hope everyone's havin' a great Thursday!
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
As Far as I'm Concerned, Statistics can Go to Hell.
Hi people! I'm going out of my mind. I know someday I will look back on my college experience and laugh heartily at my gross overdramatization of tests but right now, I am considering faking a stroke to get out of this shit.
Yea. I know, things could be way worse. Here's the thing: bad grades aren't fun for me. I am suspicious that all of my professors have united in order to orchestrate a sort of "Senior Hell Week" and I am just a lowly pawn forced to comply with their every whim. I caught myself humming the tune to "Hong Kong Garden"..(if you haven't heard it you should get thyself to ye olde iTunes and download it, stadt!) and it isn't exactly a hummy song....it's sort of twitchy and dingy. I have also noted my tendency to jump at small noises and my inability to consume anything out of the "orange" food group (candy corn, cheetos, etc.). I feel like someone laced my coffee with speed...kinda like that chick in "Valley of the Dolls"....pretty soon I'll be wasted at a bar claiming to be the original singer in Velvet Revolver and soon after you'll see me passing out in a narsty motel, waking in time to find that I've just been molested by a bum.
I still have no dress for the ball. I guess that's OK since I feel more like "Annie Get Your Gun" than "Cinderella" anyway.
Hope everyone else is coping with daily stress better than I am!
Hi people! I'm going out of my mind. I know someday I will look back on my college experience and laugh heartily at my gross overdramatization of tests but right now, I am considering faking a stroke to get out of this shit.
Yea. I know, things could be way worse. Here's the thing: bad grades aren't fun for me. I am suspicious that all of my professors have united in order to orchestrate a sort of "Senior Hell Week" and I am just a lowly pawn forced to comply with their every whim. I caught myself humming the tune to "Hong Kong Garden"..(if you haven't heard it you should get thyself to ye olde iTunes and download it, stadt!) and it isn't exactly a hummy song....it's sort of twitchy and dingy. I have also noted my tendency to jump at small noises and my inability to consume anything out of the "orange" food group (candy corn, cheetos, etc.). I feel like someone laced my coffee with speed...kinda like that chick in "Valley of the Dolls"....pretty soon I'll be wasted at a bar claiming to be the original singer in Velvet Revolver and soon after you'll see me passing out in a narsty motel, waking in time to find that I've just been molested by a bum.
I still have no dress for the ball. I guess that's OK since I feel more like "Annie Get Your Gun" than "Cinderella" anyway.
Hope everyone else is coping with daily stress better than I am!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Could be worse. Could be raining.
The weather BLOWS ASSHOLE. It is cold and blustery and pouring.
The Ball is next Friday and I still have no dress. Plus, I'm kind starting to freak out about flying to North Carolina to go to a ball with someone I've never met before. This is so not like me. I mean, seriously.
My stress is compounded exponentially because of the ass load of shit I have going on this week. I am trying to "perspectify" because I am just a lowly undergrad and God only knows what kind of fiery baptism I'm going to have to endure in graduate school, BUT, I won't GET to grad school if I don't pull my stuff together this year. I think I've given myself a stomach ulcer.
SO, I have three tests and a twenty five page paper on Kosovo this week. This is the type of shit that gets me labeled a recluse. ALL of my phone conversations have gone something like this.....
Phone: ring ring ring
Me: Hello
Cleo(my good friend for as long as I can remember who is married and has a baby and finds my company entertaining): what are you doing?
Me: well, I just cleaned the entire house and organized my dining room table in preparation for study time or as I like to refer to it "the big cram".
Cleo: Oh. Wanna come over and watch the Bachelor?
Me: ....
Cleo: Fine. Will you call me when your to the blue highlighter?
(I color code my notes in order of importance with highlighters, blue is reserved for last and least important information...yes, I realize how absessive this is)
Me: well, after that I'm proofreading my paper again.
Cleo: why are you such a whacko?
Me: I think it has something to do with being the oldest of four children.
So, I've been locked in my house wondering if its possible to actually become less intelligent as the years roll by. Hmmm. Surely something fun and happy will come along soon enough and I can get out of this scarcastic rut I've been stuck in since puberty. Then again, maybe not.
The weather BLOWS ASSHOLE. It is cold and blustery and pouring.
The Ball is next Friday and I still have no dress. Plus, I'm kind starting to freak out about flying to North Carolina to go to a ball with someone I've never met before. This is so not like me. I mean, seriously.
My stress is compounded exponentially because of the ass load of shit I have going on this week. I am trying to "perspectify" because I am just a lowly undergrad and God only knows what kind of fiery baptism I'm going to have to endure in graduate school, BUT, I won't GET to grad school if I don't pull my stuff together this year. I think I've given myself a stomach ulcer.
SO, I have three tests and a twenty five page paper on Kosovo this week. This is the type of shit that gets me labeled a recluse. ALL of my phone conversations have gone something like this.....
Phone: ring ring ring
Me: Hello
Cleo(my good friend for as long as I can remember who is married and has a baby and finds my company entertaining): what are you doing?
Me: well, I just cleaned the entire house and organized my dining room table in preparation for study time or as I like to refer to it "the big cram".
Cleo: Oh. Wanna come over and watch the Bachelor?
Me: ....
Cleo: Fine. Will you call me when your to the blue highlighter?
(I color code my notes in order of importance with highlighters, blue is reserved for last and least important information...yes, I realize how absessive this is)
Me: well, after that I'm proofreading my paper again.
Cleo: why are you such a whacko?
Me: I think it has something to do with being the oldest of four children.
So, I've been locked in my house wondering if its possible to actually become less intelligent as the years roll by. Hmmm. Surely something fun and happy will come along soon enough and I can get out of this scarcastic rut I've been stuck in since puberty. Then again, maybe not.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
STOP THE RINGING!
Hello Internet! I'm still under the weather so things have been pretty dern boring at my house. I have discovered the worst t.v. show in the known universe. It is called Reba, and if they're looking for better interrogation methods down at Gitmo this would fit the bill. Chuck Norris would break after an hour or so of this shit. I've also been skipping class like its my job. These last few days would have been completely boring if it hadn't been for the phone! People, I finally got a house line and yesterday my dad actually brought me a phone to plug into the wall! I shit you not, I have received over forty-five calls from a toll free number, three phone calls from CANADA and several from the mid west. What the hell? I haven't answered any of these calls because I don't feel like it.If anyone think's I getting off of my ass to walk across the room then they are sorely mistaken. SO, yea that's pretty much it. Fight the sickness! Drink lots of fluids and wash your hands.
*Update: Powell, WY. Ladue, MO. DC Suburb of VA. Greenwood, MS. Point Pleas, NJ are just a FEW more of the trillions of calls I have now received.
*Update: Powell, WY. Ladue, MO. DC Suburb of VA. Greenwood, MS. Point Pleas, NJ are just a FEW more of the trillions of calls I have now received.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Seriously?
Welcome to October. I am ill. Everyone is ill. The illness is infecting my brain. I am feeling anxiety riddled and batshit crazy and this is all compounded by the fact that I have an ass load of work to catch up on and I am really disappointed in this season's Gilmore Girls. Helllooooo run on sentence. So anyway, things suck right now. Also, I am going to a fucking ball in three weeks and I have no dress. People, seriously? Seriously.
Also, my mom sent my dad over with food to build my strength and she has totally confirmed my theory that in my family, cooking is degenerative. I'm talking a fucking onion plate. It smells like ass in here.
Anyway, so this post has absolutely no point except that I am bored off my ass and I would like to inform the good people of the internet that the movie the Lake House? FUCKING BLOWS. I want those two hours of my life back.
Someone put me out of my misery.
Welcome to October. I am ill. Everyone is ill. The illness is infecting my brain. I am feeling anxiety riddled and batshit crazy and this is all compounded by the fact that I have an ass load of work to catch up on and I am really disappointed in this season's Gilmore Girls. Helllooooo run on sentence. So anyway, things suck right now. Also, I am going to a fucking ball in three weeks and I have no dress. People, seriously? Seriously.
Also, my mom sent my dad over with food to build my strength and she has totally confirmed my theory that in my family, cooking is degenerative. I'm talking a fucking onion plate. It smells like ass in here.
Anyway, so this post has absolutely no point except that I am bored off my ass and I would like to inform the good people of the internet that the movie the Lake House? FUCKING BLOWS. I want those two hours of my life back.
Someone put me out of my misery.
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