[Note that this was last, last Saturday's un-finished post which I'm finishing up. I like to think of it as a day old Mrs. Field's cookie with misplaced chocolate chips; both this post and the cookie are old and crummy, but hey, they're pretty darn tootin' satisfying in the long run.]
Dear Diary ((A 4/24/10 at 7:36 PM cynical Saturday night edition of That Girl's life.
That's right, Saturday night I'm cooped up inside this drab green house constantly feeling the pressure ( enough pressure to be the equivalent of a pre-broiled Easter egg in a Hamilton Beach Crock Pot: Quart Oval edition. Whatever that is. ) to finish reading the 60 assigned pages of a Tale of Two Cities by Monday for my tough-as-nails--the slightly flimsy, yet pretty sturdy kind of nails--English class. And yes, I have about 57 pages more to read still. I'm SO living the la vido loco life. Sarcastically speaking, natch.)) ,
So, since I'm obviously not the perfect little angel (like the kind who still wear non-ironic "I'm daddy's little girl!" shirts with sky-blue furry kittens on their shirts with a bag of stick-on earrings from the local Sav-Mart carried on their wrists) I thought I'd ride the Shallow Express on a non-stop ride towards Shallow Central; as in, I thought I'd show you some pictures of cute guys.
And there are some cool new singers I've found on Youtube that I wanted to share.
Yes, in the words of a CareBare, "Sharing [is in fact] caring."
Unless you're sharing adult cooties, if you catch my drift. Adult cooties are totally the exception the rule. Someone should P.O. box those CareBares and tell 'em actually...
UGH! Dude, I'm such a loser.
Is this really what I'm doing on a Saturday night? Get a LIFE, That Girl! Ask your beytoch friends to hang! They'd say yes!
Sorry. Just bickering in my head about stuff. Thought that I'd share my lameness. Not to be easily confuzzled with "lamenting." Although, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm kind of sharing both my lameness as well as lamentness. Ooh, score one for me. I'll call it lamenating. How chic. Only not. How stupid. Definitely.
Internal bickering monologues to myself. Man, I need to get a hobby.
Like knitting stupid pink sweaters with ugly flowers on them. Or smacking my head on the wall until I lose consciousness. Hmm.
The second one sounds more fun.
Not that I don't love you, Diary 'ol buddy. I never wanna stop telling you about my sorry-ass life, then where will my thoughts on lame Saturday night woes go? MWAH.
-cue richass heiresses' voice- I love you so, SO much! So, like um, can I have like 5-quintillion dollars to buy this new D and J purse at the mall? China, Paris, Italy, and Pluto are going, and I'll be sooo left out if I don't go and buy one with them? Kay? Love ya, bye!
So anyway, that ^ is what I wrote last time I was in a blogging mood and you should know that it's 11:13 PM right now and instead of taking time out to take a shower (a nice warm shower with silky conditioner and a loofah, mind you...just kidding. who uses a loofah? only Loofahmaniacs, that's who) I wanted to rant a little bit. Here we gooo..follow the yellow brick road.
Diary, guys suck.
At least at relationships.
Not "Relations!" as in the grandmother's reference to sex in one of those goofy Nutty Professor movies.
Just take a chill pill and listen for a sec.
And try not to OD on those chill pills. I don't know what would happen...can you possibly be too chill?
In my last post I said that LBB finally snagged himself his first girlie for real, right? I personally thought even though I didn't know the girl, besides seeing her in the halls once in a while, they were one of those off-the-shizniz adorable couples.
Deep down he's a nice guy.
He just sucks at relationships. He tries to hard.
Poor guy got his heartbroken!
Actually, I was kidding around saying that he should eat some chocolate and take a bubble bath with lots of suds, and he told me that he ate almost a whole box of chocolates already. At least he had his broken-heart armor prepared.
If he was a feminine gay boy I might be able to add a witty comment that it was good he had his chocolates at hand already so he wouldn't have to run down to the local See's Candies with smeared mascara sobbing at the counter with choked sobs of words slowly spoken to the less-than-amused person at the register. And I would say that the samples would be galore.
"well. i ate like HELLA haha" was his response to my, "Seriously?" comment responding to his chocolate feast.
And then he said that he loves bubble baths.
So I give up.
Why don't people understand how to read a cynic's sarcastic comments these days?
I also wanted to add something about guys' flirting.
As in, I hate it!
If you're not plannin' on asking the desperately-searching-for-love Susan, than why torture her with winking smiley faces and compliments?
You might as well send her flowers from the 99 Cent store and a fake ring won from a carnival game booth while you're at it.
She's still thinking of it non-stop for the rest of the day until ANOTHER ass decides to flirt with her. And he can get his stupid kicks out of it.
"Hohohohehehe, I'm so cool; look at me flirting with this girl in love with me while I go flirt with the slightly bigger-boobed girl on the side and all the guys will think of me as GOD once I land her fat-ass in my new memory foam mattress. Shit, I should do a hair flip, the girls will think I'm cute and giggle with eachother about it. Oh shit, her boobs are huge. I wanna suck those-"
Is what he's thinking. And the girl thinks:
"Ohemgee (literally spelling out the initials of the initials of a three lettered phrase. Talk about excessive.) he really likes me! Shit, I have a zit on my nose, did he notice? I wonder if he tells his friend's all about me...holy shit he's so perfect; I need to ask my friends who are almost literally my working brain since mine won't function for making decisions important in my life. Holly might pick out a sexy skirt for me to get his attention...damn I want to make out with him...hug him...ooooh WHY DOESN'T HE LIKE ME? That girl's got a better figure than me...he's probably likes her. Fuck. I'm an ugly-ass bitch, pale/too tan, skeleton/pig compared to her. Holy Fuck. I might as well drown mysel-OH EM GEE he's looking at me again! He winked! Fucking God-damned shit, I made a giggly sound..."
See what I mean?
People suck, in general I mean. Cuz yeah, some suck that way too, but I'd rather not partake in a opinionated discussion in that if you catch my drift-wood.
Yep, driftwood floatin' in that big-ass ocean...that's how I feel.
-That Girl, Lost in thoughts.
Forrest Gump: My momma always said, "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."