DEAR EVERYONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THIS EVEN MEANS:
Raymi,
Thanks for your email. I doubt that you are a regular listener to the program or MIX FM as you wouldn’t be making these comments with regard to this segment. I have been to your blog and I have no comments.
Regards,
Karen Steele Program Director – 99.9 MIX FM 2 St.Clair Avenue West, 2nd Floor Toronto, Ontario M4V 1L6
does she mean that if i was a listener then i wouldn’t be insulted or making comments therefore it’s ok to have a carney segment also justifying her non-response? wait wait because she is sherlock holmes she figured i am not a listener like HAHA you are a FAKE i have dodged your sneaky email plan muahaha?
i can’t think or dream big anymore i can’t think of anything i would want to do with money if i got more of it, i don’t think in terms of yachts and three piece suits and other shit i think in terms of fuck i don’t even know, i think in twenty dollar increments and if i were to be a millionaire i would be the poorest millionaire there was.
still i’m pretty greedy though.
i just picture myself as crummy and pathetic and thoughtless and destitute, even when i have money i picture it being gone, taken away, i don’t deserve it. i see myself sitting on a stack of influential books and i’m the only one who doesn’t get them and my tea is luke-cold the rent is overdue there’s a draft and my hair is scraggily and yet i can write these little stories i dunno.
i probably won’t have kids either.
nobody called me yesterday, my fone didn’t ring at all i want to throw it in the garbage.
to clear up any and all confusion, here is someone you ARE ALLOWED to make fun of but not to their face. in your head you quietly itemize all the things that are wrong with them and then say them to your boyfriend then write it all down on your blog.
ok.
this guy, green room patio, sunday, and this is what he was wearing:
-hawaiian style shirt except instead of flowers there were 1×1 inch square pin-up nudes, sounds fun and funny but so isn’t
-tevas
-tapered black jeany/dressy pinstripe pants
-napoleon dynamite glasses but NOT for irony
alright and here are all the things that he did wrong:
-crossed and re-crossed his legs at the knee infinity times with them sticknig out in the aisle where the waitress had to wait for him to move his legs everytime she went by
-drank red wine and smelled each glass and swilled it around like it was very expensive and not the regular red that always makes me crap my pants
-quoted seinfeld incorrectly
-leaned over a lot to his friends at the other table instead of SITTING WITH THEM
-slapped the waitress on the arm as she was walking by and said CAN YOU GET ME ANOTHER GLASS OF RED, didn’t say please
-his friends were hitting each other and rough-housing forEVER i mean slapping each other in the face and one was a GIRL and she was taking it pretty hard this was all behind fil’s back so he didn’t see how bad it actually looked
-he and his friends kept doing that guido/gangsta snapsnapsnap thing with their fingers to let the other know that what they said was very hilarious
-one skinny dude of the lot kept place-dropping “I FINALLY BOUGHT A GAMEBOY WHEN I WAS 14 IN AFRICA AND I BEAT MARIO ON THE PLANE TO THAILAND….”
-winelor disappeared leaving his final glass unattended for over twenty minutes
-bummed cigarettes from everyone around him
sigh.
i hope i see him again. i was hoping he would ask me for a smoke just so i could tell him how irritating i found him to be because YES my life is that fulfilled.
yeh i guess i look pretty skinny and not as tanned in this picture. it was taken, um, a couple of weeks ago. i’m still pretty tan, though, it’s just the lighting and the pale hungoverness of my being at the time and the angle that shows the skinnay. and the, well, stress. the metabolism. the depression. the everything i decide to take on because i am trying to be everyone’s mother.
enough on that.
the video music awards things are on now and fil is on his way over with my cat hat to watch the shit out of it and tell me about the canoe trip and stuffs.
oh and i am not taking lithium i decided. that shit hurt my stomache like nobody’s business, ulcers dude, causes ‘em. as well i was drinking like bukowski all over the place which ain’t cool.
and i saw bb king the other nite and he was too, too moving and this lady told me to shut the fuck up even tho i wasn’t talking the most, well, maybe the loudest but at least i don’t have feathered hair and a leather jacket at a bb king concert and if i wanted someone to be quiet i wouldn’t wait 50 minutes to tell ‘em so and i sure as shit wouldn’t tell them to shut the fuck up ‘cos you never know who yer mouthin’ off to, you know. so i simply stubbed my cigarette out on the back of her chair, went to the bathroom, and expressed my anger in an adult manner to the other pupils of mine, yes, by using sign-language and dolphin squeaks.
and then i went BLAAAARRRRRHHH YAYAYAYYAAAAAAAAAAAA BB to the Kizzle EAST SIIIIIDE!
dear: this movie, could you be any better or sweeter? i don’t think so.
dear: little girl from signs I AM GOING TO ABDUCT YOU SO PACK YOUR LITTLE BAGS!
dear: everyone else, if you are not busting up laughing whilst sobbing quietly simultaneously then you are a huge asshole and officially removed from my friend list.
steve carrell plays the suicidal uncle who goes along with the family to california in the vw bus cos he can’t be left alone. his facial hair makes him look like a terrorist. the development of his character is pretty nice to witness, in the beginning all sad and mopey and by the end he is all triumphant and a key player in bringing the family closer.
he runs funny too.
the teenage emo son doesn’t speak cos he’s doing this vow of silence and so he writes everything down on a notepad and the first nite he writes to carrell PLEASE DON’T KILL YOURSELF TONIGHT.
ok i don’t want to spoil anything but at the end the little girl does this dance performance that rivals john heder’s in napoleon dynamite.
