Dearest Lindsay Lohan,
For the love of all that is good in this world, Please stop making music!!! Your pop/rock wannabe music is pathetic and quite frankly, you don't even have a good voice. You are just another over exposed celebrity who thinks that pictures in a magazine = talent... They don't...
And while I do admit that I was at one point a fan of yours, that all changed when I saw Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen... Who told you that movie was a good Idea?... Probably the same person who told Michael and Lisa-Marie that their marriage would last...
You have been just one disappoinment after another ever since. Hanging out with the Hilton's, the underage drinking, and that God-Forsaken Love affair with Fes... what do you think Denis Quaid would have to say about all this?
I was willing to give you one last chance to redeem yourself... so I bought "Speak" and I must say that I want my $15.95 back...Your music is unbearable... I couldn't even listen to the whole album before throwing it out the window... Literally! No one thought it was a good idea when Hilary made an album... what made you think they would when you did?
Stick to playing twins!
Sincerely,
Jennifer Leigh Blushi
I concur.
27 January 2005
22 January 2005
The Life Aquatic and Poking fun at those who cannot defend themselves.
At the suggestion of Ian, I went to see "The life Aquatic with Steve Zissou." It was pretty dece. I laughed quite a bit. I've found that I laugh really loud, mostly at inappropriate times and I think it came to a head when I started hanging out with Tara, who also laughs loudly whenever the mood takes her. Two guys walked into the movies close enough to showtime that it seemed like we would have a private showing and I glared at them. It was sort of an automatic response to the intrusion on our privacy. And the second guy saw me glaring and Just said, "Hi." It threw me off.
I used to have a best friend (and all this nonsense came up because I finally saw her for the first time in three months Thursday.) She would come up with really weird questions when she was stoned. One night, she looked at me and asked if I would jump in front of a bullet for her.
"Name, I'm pretty sure if someone were going to shoot you, the next bullet would have my name on it. There wouldn't be a point."
Another time we were in the drive-thru at the 4 a.m. Wendy's and it came up about my (ahem) aggressive driving and how there is a very high probablility that I will die from a bullet in the head sent my way in someone's fit of road rage. She told me that if that happened, she would probably just try to scoop my brains back into my head.
So I guess the point of that was don't do drugs...
But now every time I talk to Tara she asks something about a bullet and I laugh.
I used to have a best friend (and all this nonsense came up because I finally saw her for the first time in three months Thursday.) She would come up with really weird questions when she was stoned. One night, she looked at me and asked if I would jump in front of a bullet for her.
"Name, I'm pretty sure if someone were going to shoot you, the next bullet would have my name on it. There wouldn't be a point."
Another time we were in the drive-thru at the 4 a.m. Wendy's and it came up about my (ahem) aggressive driving and how there is a very high probablility that I will die from a bullet in the head sent my way in someone's fit of road rage. She told me that if that happened, she would probably just try to scoop my brains back into my head.
So I guess the point of that was don't do drugs...
But now every time I talk to Tara she asks something about a bullet and I laugh.
17 January 2005
God, I sound of ill repute...
I promise I'm not a slut. And I am really screwed up. Because I hooked up with this kid and he's great and all, but I don't think I can do it anymore.
I can't hook up with him because I'm starting to like him. Which in my mind is completely unacceptable. I'm good at the separation of lust and like. In fact, I've hooked up with people I really don't like, even as human beings, never mind as the future father of my children. If I had taken a header for every guy who got me off, I'd be such a mess right now, I'd probably be married with 2ish kids and a husband who regularly uses me as a punching bag. Because I never would have left my first solid boyfriend.
I don't like him because he gets me off. I like him because he says he's an asshole and isn't really. And he knows something about everything and is always right, but not obnoxious about it. And he can make jokes about himself. And I don't mind sleeping next to him. The biggest reason is sexual... Of course. This kid can be rough with me and controlling and I never once feel like I need to worry about whether or not I'm going to wake up with a pillow over my face or tied up without my saying , "Sure, pal. Go for it."
I would actually let him tie me up.
Therefore, I can't hang out with him anymore, because our torches are not aligned.
I can't hook up with him because I'm starting to like him. Which in my mind is completely unacceptable. I'm good at the separation of lust and like. In fact, I've hooked up with people I really don't like, even as human beings, never mind as the future father of my children. If I had taken a header for every guy who got me off, I'd be such a mess right now, I'd probably be married with 2ish kids and a husband who regularly uses me as a punching bag. Because I never would have left my first solid boyfriend.
I don't like him because he gets me off. I like him because he says he's an asshole and isn't really. And he knows something about everything and is always right, but not obnoxious about it. And he can make jokes about himself. And I don't mind sleeping next to him. The biggest reason is sexual... Of course. This kid can be rough with me and controlling and I never once feel like I need to worry about whether or not I'm going to wake up with a pillow over my face or tied up without my saying , "Sure, pal. Go for it."
I would actually let him tie me up.
Therefore, I can't hang out with him anymore, because our torches are not aligned.
10 January 2005
Coitus and last names
"Her last name is worth 3 grand. And free rent on one of my properties."
We were playing Monopoly on new years day. New year's Eve was a boisterous night and I was seated at my best friend's kitchen table playing the game of ultimate tycoonery. At the table are Matt and Tara, sitting across from me, and Scott. Scott is winning the game by a long shot and it somehow comes up that Scott has a 2:8 ratio of remembering the names of girls that he's hooked up. He looks over at me and across the table to Tara (his best friend) and says, "Um. 1 to 8."
She badgered him for a few minutes and I just looked at him and said, "I know your last name."
And I did. I also told him that I new everyone of my hookups last names. And that he's a wretched person (I was kidding on the last part. We had only known each other about 26 hours, there were people who knew me for months before knowing my name was anything but Hey.) And then he offered to buy my name from Matt. It started off at a grand and steadily increased until the two were playing phonetic hangman and Matt was trying to coax Scott into figuring out the options for a hard z sound. At the one arm point, he got it.
The next day I was thinking about it and I realized that I'm a dirty fucking liar. I'm 4:1. I didn't remember one's last name. It made me start to wonder why it matters to begin with. All the absence of a last name is an assurance that you won't be looking them up in the phonebook anytime soon. And if you aren't really friends (or even just casual acquaintances) why cares?
Apparently I do, I did a call around and racked my brain and finally, after about 3 days, remembered it. Good for me. I'm five for 5.
We were playing Monopoly on new years day. New year's Eve was a boisterous night and I was seated at my best friend's kitchen table playing the game of ultimate tycoonery. At the table are Matt and Tara, sitting across from me, and Scott. Scott is winning the game by a long shot and it somehow comes up that Scott has a 2:8 ratio of remembering the names of girls that he's hooked up. He looks over at me and across the table to Tara (his best friend) and says, "Um. 1 to 8."
She badgered him for a few minutes and I just looked at him and said, "I know your last name."
And I did. I also told him that I new everyone of my hookups last names. And that he's a wretched person (I was kidding on the last part. We had only known each other about 26 hours, there were people who knew me for months before knowing my name was anything but Hey.) And then he offered to buy my name from Matt. It started off at a grand and steadily increased until the two were playing phonetic hangman and Matt was trying to coax Scott into figuring out the options for a hard z sound. At the one arm point, he got it.
The next day I was thinking about it and I realized that I'm a dirty fucking liar. I'm 4:1. I didn't remember one's last name. It made me start to wonder why it matters to begin with. All the absence of a last name is an assurance that you won't be looking them up in the phonebook anytime soon. And if you aren't really friends (or even just casual acquaintances) why cares?
Apparently I do, I did a call around and racked my brain and finally, after about 3 days, remembered it. Good for me. I'm five for 5.
03 January 2005
Falling angels.
One of my friends wished me sweet dreams before I went to sleep last night and I said, "Oh, they will be."
The first one was a weird meshing of work, Tara's new Year's Eve Party and The movie Saw. That was an unpleasant wake up. All I remember vividly is that stupid doll (the one where the concept meeting was "ok guys, I need you to think of the scariest thing ever and then make it into a doll.") watching me and my friend as we tried to escape. And thwarting us. He was always thwarting us.
The second one was the breakup with my beast friend (not the former one, the oldest one from college) because he was being extremely inconsiderate. The uncomfort of that situation was only surpassed by walking out the front door to my apartment and seeing people face diving onto the pavement from 4 story buildings wearing blue and pink angel wings. All I wanted to do was drive home for a funeral (which I ended up not doing today) and I ended up having to flip a bitch on Lafayette street to avoid hitting the red winged person flattened four feet in front of my car. I ended up going to a play (not the funeral) with another kid and running into the friend there and htere were issues and I woke up.
The only time I ever fully capture the feeling of my dreams is when their really bad anxiety dreams. It sucks. I can't remember the happy fluffy sleep through the night rem cycles. Only the white-knuckled, cold sweat, kick-off-the-blankets dreams for me!
Sometimes I wish I didn't dream at all.
The first one was a weird meshing of work, Tara's new Year's Eve Party and The movie Saw. That was an unpleasant wake up. All I remember vividly is that stupid doll (the one where the concept meeting was "ok guys, I need you to think of the scariest thing ever and then make it into a doll.") watching me and my friend as we tried to escape. And thwarting us. He was always thwarting us.
The second one was the breakup with my beast friend (not the former one, the oldest one from college) because he was being extremely inconsiderate. The uncomfort of that situation was only surpassed by walking out the front door to my apartment and seeing people face diving onto the pavement from 4 story buildings wearing blue and pink angel wings. All I wanted to do was drive home for a funeral (which I ended up not doing today) and I ended up having to flip a bitch on Lafayette street to avoid hitting the red winged person flattened four feet in front of my car. I ended up going to a play (not the funeral) with another kid and running into the friend there and htere were issues and I woke up.
The only time I ever fully capture the feeling of my dreams is when their really bad anxiety dreams. It sucks. I can't remember the happy fluffy sleep through the night rem cycles. Only the white-knuckled, cold sweat, kick-off-the-blankets dreams for me!
Sometimes I wish I didn't dream at all.
My life is a book. This book.
So, I'm living my favorite novel in the college English major way.
The book is The Cigarette Girl by Carol Wolper. There is a quote from it that totally applies to my life (and Tara's) at the moment. It answers the typical why am I headed down this particular stairwell with this particular guy right now questions we all face sometimes, especially after a night of drinking. The answer is, "Because sex with a smart, funny, attractive guy who comes highly recommended, knows a lot of the same people you do, but is still a stranger...Is hot."
It is. That's the book my Tattoo comes from. As does my screenname. And now a portion of my life.
New years was pretty fun. Tara and I traded best friends for the night. "For conversation" according to Kevin.
Yeah, so this:
The book is The Cigarette Girl by Carol Wolper. There is a quote from it that totally applies to my life (and Tara's) at the moment. It answers the typical why am I headed down this particular stairwell with this particular guy right now questions we all face sometimes, especially after a night of drinking. The answer is, "Because sex with a smart, funny, attractive guy who comes highly recommended, knows a lot of the same people you do, but is still a stranger...Is hot."
It is. That's the book my Tattoo comes from. As does my screenname. And now a portion of my life.
New years was pretty fun. Tara and I traded best friends for the night. "For conversation" according to Kevin.
Yeah, so this:
| I Believe In a Thing Called Love by The Darkness |
 You played it cheesy and campy in 2004, but you know how to rock out. |
What'>http://www.blogthings.com/2004hitquiz.html">What 2004 Hit Song Are You?
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