I’m in my bedroom right now, in underwear, socks, and a sweatshirt, soaking wet from the snow. Damn snow. I hate it with a burning, fiery passion (which is amusing, because my hate should technically be able to melt the snow, but it DOESN’T). My mom woke me up this morning by telling me to go shovel the driveway. Let me tell you people this- there is no worse way to be woken up then by being told you have work to do. Especially on your day off. I am a sullen pot of anger right now.
I found this while looking for old blogs to post (I finally got Optimum, so I’m catching up on all the stuff that would have taken fucking forever to load on aol). It’s unfinished, obviously. It’s kind of funny, because a few hours after I wrote this, I came down with the flu so bad that I was unable to walk straight for four days, and I’m still feeling some of the symptoms.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Another Rrrrl Old Post
I’m really bored, but also very tired right now. If I had a little common sense, I would put my ass to sleep. I mean, I do have a class in less than eight hours. But do I listen to that tiny (teensy tiny, barely even there) part of my brain that tells me to do the sensible thing? Um, fuck no. Instead I will plant myself in front of a computer screen until my eyes shrivel up and fall out onto the keyboard.
Sigh. I gots me some mad memory problems lately. It’s getting to the point that I really think I should see a doctor. Someone my age really shouldn’t have this much trouble recalling memories. And honestly, sometimes I can’t distinguish between a real memory, and the mental pictures that I stored when someone recapped an event for me. So I think I ‘remember’ things that I wasn’t even there for, and pull up blanks when I try to recall what I did two days ago. And fucking forget chronological order. I honestly can’t remember whether or not something happened two days or two years ago. But the real kicker was when, a few days ago, I couldn’t remember my first kiss with Andrew. I was seriously freaked out. It is time for a doctor’s appointment. Oh yes, it is time.
Anywhoo, I started working at Payless. Compared to KB, there is absolutely nothing to do at all. And the schedule is broken up into fewer, but longer shifts. That means, three times a week, I spend eight or more hours shuffling shoes in their boxes, and wishing for my own death. I long for the end of my shift with an unprecedented violence that actually astounds me. Not to mention that I’ve been suffering from a vicious cold, which only serves to heighten my joy at having to work.
Speaking of my cold, I totally fucking Oded on Nyquil last night. It was almost midnight, and I was exhausted. I wasn’t really thinking, or paying attention to my surroundings. I threw on my pajamas, took my pills, and curled up under my covers. Only problem was, I forgot that I usually only take half a dose of Nyquil, since I’m extra sensitive to medicine. Thirteen hours later, I awoke with weak, shivery limbs, and the feeling that if I laid back down I would sleep the rest of the day away. I felt like I was getting over the flu. What super sucked was that Andrew and I were going to hang out, and instead I spent the morning in a drug-induced coma. And I had told him that I wasn’t going to let that happen again…
I don’t know what’s been going on with me, but lately I have been spitting out poetry with alarming frequency. *woodknock* Creepy, Sylvia Plath-esque free form. *is proud of herself*
I guess I should go to bed. I am mucho tired. Peace, bitchez.
Sigh. I gots me some mad memory problems lately. It’s getting to the point that I really think I should see a doctor. Someone my age really shouldn’t have this much trouble recalling memories. And honestly, sometimes I can’t distinguish between a real memory, and the mental pictures that I stored when someone recapped an event for me. So I think I ‘remember’ things that I wasn’t even there for, and pull up blanks when I try to recall what I did two days ago. And fucking forget chronological order. I honestly can’t remember whether or not something happened two days or two years ago. But the real kicker was when, a few days ago, I couldn’t remember my first kiss with Andrew. I was seriously freaked out. It is time for a doctor’s appointment. Oh yes, it is time.
Anywhoo, I started working at Payless. Compared to KB, there is absolutely nothing to do at all. And the schedule is broken up into fewer, but longer shifts. That means, three times a week, I spend eight or more hours shuffling shoes in their boxes, and wishing for my own death. I long for the end of my shift with an unprecedented violence that actually astounds me. Not to mention that I’ve been suffering from a vicious cold, which only serves to heighten my joy at having to work.
Speaking of my cold, I totally fucking Oded on Nyquil last night. It was almost midnight, and I was exhausted. I wasn’t really thinking, or paying attention to my surroundings. I threw on my pajamas, took my pills, and curled up under my covers. Only problem was, I forgot that I usually only take half a dose of Nyquil, since I’m extra sensitive to medicine. Thirteen hours later, I awoke with weak, shivery limbs, and the feeling that if I laid back down I would sleep the rest of the day away. I felt like I was getting over the flu. What super sucked was that Andrew and I were going to hang out, and instead I spent the morning in a drug-induced coma. And I had told him that I wasn’t going to let that happen again…
I don’t know what’s been going on with me, but lately I have been spitting out poetry with alarming frequency. *woodknock* Creepy, Sylvia Plath-esque free form. *is proud of herself*
I guess I should go to bed. I am mucho tired. Peace, bitchez.
Rrrrrrl Old Blog From February
Alright, it’s time for me to write another blog. This thing is starting to look kind of bare. That, and Andrew is under the impression that we are in some sort of blog writing contest. Stupid ass freak.
Hmmm….what to write about? Oh! PUPPIES. They’re super fluffy now. Little round balls of black cotton. *resists the urge to say something really bad* Andrew and Fran came over to see them the other day. It was pretty fun. Actually, Andrew came over first for a few hours. So, we did what any couple would do with a house to themselves-- played with puppies. Duh. This is so choppy. I feel like Upton. He wrote. Wrote things. Like choppy, ya know? Rrrl choppy. Chop. Py.
Anywhoo. Me and the bitch went to see Hairspray on Thursday. Despite the biting cold, the incessant rain, the crazy black homeless man, and the hour that I didn’t speak to Andrew, I had fun.
I had wanted to leave kind of early, but of course, I had to take a drug test (cue the snickering). Stupid thing that I am, I get ready to leave for Labcorp, and GO TO THE BATHROOM. Right before I had to pee in a cup. Thank god for randomly placed cans of diet Dr.Pepper, or else my bladder would have been pushing out dust. Drug infested dust. As it was, I only managed to squeeze out just barely enough for the piss technician. I wanted to ask her how it felt to spend years in college to become a professional cup-of-urine handler, but I figured she must get enough of that from her parents. So I let her slide.
Got to Andrew’s house, and SURPRISE, the fagzilla needed to blow out and straighten his hair. So we missed the 1:11 train. And then we missed the 2:11 train too, because apparently we both suffer from some disease that makes our lips stick together. When we finally got onto the train, I fell asleep on Andrew’s shoulder and nearly cut my face open on my origami crane earring. Good times. There was a couple sitting diagonally from us, and I’m guessing that they thought they were cute. And you know what? They kind of were. But did they compare to the awesome cuteness that was BrittanyandAndrew? HELLS NO. Dumb bitches.
Penn Station hit me like it always does. It’s just a riot of people in fashionable clothing: slick black boots and tight jeans on almost every girl, pea coats and berets on the guys. Middle aged men twisting around the crowds with pin straight spines and heavy laptops. Little old ladies pushing baby carriages full of shopping bags. Asian girls with hair like sheets of oil down their backs. Black girls with doo rags and purple lips. Sudden sightings of small children. The sounds of the insane: the workhorses shouting into cell phones, the homeless beating their worries against a wall, a thousand different languages all at once…Is it just me, or does Penn have really low, thin hallways? I always feel like I’m trapped in some elegant, underground society-- an old subway tunnel filled with artwork, like a new home for the survivors of the apocalypse. I let my boyfriend hold my hand, and pull me through the throng. Sometimes it’s nice to let yourself be led. : )
We had a lot of time before the show, so we wanted to walk around the city and see the sights and shit. Ya know, normal tourist stuff. Outside the air was brittle and wet. Of course. It wasn’t raining, really. It was kind of like walking through a curtain of frozen, unmoving water. As if the air wasn’t made out of oxygen or nitrogen, but a billion tiny ice crystals. Eventually we made it to H&M (where I took a few minutes to crack the ice off my exposed skin). Andrew wanted a certain pair of sunglasses that I figured was probably made for girls, and what do you know? I was right. Shocker. They also had freaking cute bras-- and they had a grand total of one 34D. So Andrew thought it would be funny to suggest that I get a breast reduction. Fucking douche. I didn’t talk to him for an hour after that. Then I started feeling bad, cuz I didn’t want to ruin his day. He was only joking- there wasn’t enough reason for me to put him I a bad mood before he saw the show.
As for the show itself, I loved it. It was mucho different from the movie. Definitely funnier. Some things, however, I liked better on screen. For instance, Corny Collins. And two of my favorite songs weren’t in the play (New Girl in Town, and Ladies’ Choice). But other stuff was better in the play. Like Tracy. I’m not talking about the actors- I actually kind of liked movie-Tracy’s voice better. But the character they made for the play is a lot funnier. The Penny in the play was a thousand times better than anything Amanda Bynes could ever dream of. I guess it’s because in a theater, the characters have to be more dramatic, because the audience can’t see their faces. You lose the dynamics of facial expression, which need to made up in voice and body movement. The theater itself was gorgeous, and the guy I was sitting next to was really cute. I sort of wanted to jump his bones. Haha.
After the play we waited for the actors, but they didn’t seem to care about us, since we weren’t little kids. So we departed in search of yummies. Using my amazing Chinese Buffet radar skillz, I found one of those overpriced, under stocked restaurants. The waitresses were really fucking creepy. They stood over us like hawks and jabbered away in Chinese with their hands over their mouths. Now, what is the point of that? As if we can fucking understand you anyway. Why bother hiding your mouth? Are we going to read your damn lips? I think not.
On the train ride home I thought we would have an entire section of the train to ourselves. I had plans to break out the wine (and maybe the sex dice) and really end the night on a high note. So of course, the train was jam packed, and Andrew and I wound up sharing one of those five chair sections with some old dude. He sat across from me, so I couldn’t move my legs. That really sucked, because I felt like I had bugs jumping around inside my calves. And I was half a second away from not caring that Andrew and I had an audience. Damn old man. Damn teenagers everywhere.
But what was my favorite part of the day? Hmmm….it was when someone said something to someone else that made the someone happy somewhere (not in someone’s pants, you pervs!). *huge smile* Mind your own business, you fucking whores.
*kiss*
I love you all.
(except for Andrew)
Hmmm….what to write about? Oh! PUPPIES. They’re super fluffy now. Little round balls of black cotton. *resists the urge to say something really bad* Andrew and Fran came over to see them the other day. It was pretty fun. Actually, Andrew came over first for a few hours. So, we did what any couple would do with a house to themselves-- played with puppies. Duh. This is so choppy. I feel like Upton. He wrote. Wrote things. Like choppy, ya know? Rrrl choppy. Chop. Py.
Anywhoo. Me and the bitch went to see Hairspray on Thursday. Despite the biting cold, the incessant rain, the crazy black homeless man, and the hour that I didn’t speak to Andrew, I had fun.
I had wanted to leave kind of early, but of course, I had to take a drug test (cue the snickering). Stupid thing that I am, I get ready to leave for Labcorp, and GO TO THE BATHROOM. Right before I had to pee in a cup. Thank god for randomly placed cans of diet Dr.Pepper, or else my bladder would have been pushing out dust. Drug infested dust. As it was, I only managed to squeeze out just barely enough for the piss technician. I wanted to ask her how it felt to spend years in college to become a professional cup-of-urine handler, but I figured she must get enough of that from her parents. So I let her slide.
Got to Andrew’s house, and SURPRISE, the fagzilla needed to blow out and straighten his hair. So we missed the 1:11 train. And then we missed the 2:11 train too, because apparently we both suffer from some disease that makes our lips stick together. When we finally got onto the train, I fell asleep on Andrew’s shoulder and nearly cut my face open on my origami crane earring. Good times. There was a couple sitting diagonally from us, and I’m guessing that they thought they were cute. And you know what? They kind of were. But did they compare to the awesome cuteness that was BrittanyandAndrew? HELLS NO. Dumb bitches.
Penn Station hit me like it always does. It’s just a riot of people in fashionable clothing: slick black boots and tight jeans on almost every girl, pea coats and berets on the guys. Middle aged men twisting around the crowds with pin straight spines and heavy laptops. Little old ladies pushing baby carriages full of shopping bags. Asian girls with hair like sheets of oil down their backs. Black girls with doo rags and purple lips. Sudden sightings of small children. The sounds of the insane: the workhorses shouting into cell phones, the homeless beating their worries against a wall, a thousand different languages all at once…Is it just me, or does Penn have really low, thin hallways? I always feel like I’m trapped in some elegant, underground society-- an old subway tunnel filled with artwork, like a new home for the survivors of the apocalypse. I let my boyfriend hold my hand, and pull me through the throng. Sometimes it’s nice to let yourself be led. : )
We had a lot of time before the show, so we wanted to walk around the city and see the sights and shit. Ya know, normal tourist stuff. Outside the air was brittle and wet. Of course. It wasn’t raining, really. It was kind of like walking through a curtain of frozen, unmoving water. As if the air wasn’t made out of oxygen or nitrogen, but a billion tiny ice crystals. Eventually we made it to H&M (where I took a few minutes to crack the ice off my exposed skin). Andrew wanted a certain pair of sunglasses that I figured was probably made for girls, and what do you know? I was right. Shocker. They also had freaking cute bras-- and they had a grand total of one 34D. So Andrew thought it would be funny to suggest that I get a breast reduction. Fucking douche. I didn’t talk to him for an hour after that. Then I started feeling bad, cuz I didn’t want to ruin his day. He was only joking- there wasn’t enough reason for me to put him I a bad mood before he saw the show.
As for the show itself, I loved it. It was mucho different from the movie. Definitely funnier. Some things, however, I liked better on screen. For instance, Corny Collins. And two of my favorite songs weren’t in the play (New Girl in Town, and Ladies’ Choice). But other stuff was better in the play. Like Tracy. I’m not talking about the actors- I actually kind of liked movie-Tracy’s voice better. But the character they made for the play is a lot funnier. The Penny in the play was a thousand times better than anything Amanda Bynes could ever dream of. I guess it’s because in a theater, the characters have to be more dramatic, because the audience can’t see their faces. You lose the dynamics of facial expression, which need to made up in voice and body movement. The theater itself was gorgeous, and the guy I was sitting next to was really cute. I sort of wanted to jump his bones. Haha.
After the play we waited for the actors, but they didn’t seem to care about us, since we weren’t little kids. So we departed in search of yummies. Using my amazing Chinese Buffet radar skillz, I found one of those overpriced, under stocked restaurants. The waitresses were really fucking creepy. They stood over us like hawks and jabbered away in Chinese with their hands over their mouths. Now, what is the point of that? As if we can fucking understand you anyway. Why bother hiding your mouth? Are we going to read your damn lips? I think not.
On the train ride home I thought we would have an entire section of the train to ourselves. I had plans to break out the wine (and maybe the sex dice) and really end the night on a high note. So of course, the train was jam packed, and Andrew and I wound up sharing one of those five chair sections with some old dude. He sat across from me, so I couldn’t move my legs. That really sucked, because I felt like I had bugs jumping around inside my calves. And I was half a second away from not caring that Andrew and I had an audience. Damn old man. Damn teenagers everywhere.
But what was my favorite part of the day? Hmmm….it was when someone said something to someone else that made the someone happy somewhere (not in someone’s pants, you pervs!). *huge smile* Mind your own business, you fucking whores.
*kiss*
I love you all.
(except for Andrew)
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