Marketable Depression – a GREAT V-Day gift…. who knew?

Sheila

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stuffwhitepeoplelike.org hilarious.

one of my internet pen pals works in a whimsical book shoppe in england (sigh i know!) and sent me a nice package, she has a friend that has an antique tea set and they have tea parties sorry kill me in the face with a fairy tale life much?

if you want strangers to think you are really important, get someone to pull out a notepad and interview you, they can even pretend to be writing down what you are saying, and then go out for a smoke and then you have a new boyfriend i dunno, i’m trying to help out the single folk who read my blog. i don’t think it would work in a place like mcdonald’s, i mean, it likely would, but the calibre of person you would attract would be a little under par i think, go somewhere dark and candlelit and to answer your question yes i could be more gay.

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maybe i will live-blog my patheticness, i will also make fun of the term live blogging, it’s one of my favourite inside jokes with myself, it’s the most redundant term ever.

11.00am – use a knife to scrape the remnants of sugar out of sugar cube box into espresso, takes a long time because there is a tiny red cardboard fleck mixed in there i am too lazy to dig out so i am scraping around it. using a knife because it is the last piece of clean cutlery. feel like was just released from an asylum.

11.04am – fleck is an awesome word.

ungh.

live blogging is bullshit it’s basically like sitting in front of a word document waiting for time to pass and something to happen to put down, you immediately screw yourself over by saying this is a live-blog post. also you then write the post as if you are reporting live from some place that isn’t your couch or desk or wherever, it taints whatever you are doing with an air of smugness and self-importance, you talk like walter kronkite and this speak that is yet isn’t second/third person, i dunno.

you’re like THIS IS A LIVE BLOG POST and we’re like YES WE KNOW SO WAS THE LAST ONE!

unless you come across a laptop by chance at an industry event you don’t even want to be at and then write down everything that is happening all around you, you are a nerd.

fil just reminded me that i was busting on brad’s tattoo and saying that it was spelled wrong, ‘rhythm’ i said it was spelled rhthym or something, or maybe had to y’s, he almost believed it. i am a nice friend.

Elizabeth: N is walking around shirtless and telling me about when he rubbed one off last night
sigh

me: THANK YOU
before i thought i was talking to a recorded message

no more red wine, worse hangovers ever, it only took me infinity glasses to figure that out, wow what a genius over here right now. i just tried to lie down with cid but he didn’t appreciate it, he was just skeptical and suspicious, and then i started to feel nauseous. normally we cruise in bed for a couple more hours after fil leaves for work, i didn’t think it would be fair to sleep in seeing as we both got v. little sleep last nite (THANKS GILL!). we tried to go to the midtown but it was closed (blizzard or shut down forever? does anybody know?) so we went to ted’s instead, where the wine consumption began and jenny played fly on the wall and wrote down everything i said for her journalism article something profile on me, the more i drank the more i said OFF THE RECORD before and after certain bits, i’m sure she has information overload. then some guy pissed all over the seat in the women’s bathroom and was like well hellooooo to me as we passed on the stairs and kept staring at britt and i until she barked at them (jack daniels britt is awesome by the way) to take a fucking picture and they promptly left to go across the street to no doubt re-inact their creepy stare at girls from the bar bit, totally works if you aren’t three feet tall and piss on women’s toilets and your friend doesn’t look like side show bob.

well anyway today i hate myself and pretty much want to die.

oh right i was intending to eat more at the midtown, but didn’t cos duh not open, and that handful of buttered onions fil made (omg retarded orgasm) and a fistful of spinach i made and two tiny bites of sausage were not enough dinner no wonder i was out of my mind.

i think i’m totally done with winter, is it just me or has this one been crap more than ever, like full on stir crazy might as well live in the northwest territories mental?

sigh.

monstergirl went to new orleans and made me two perfumes, the lady that mixed them named them flame and limes des buras. she said that flame has to be given by a redhead. hahahahahhaha.

i feel like watching that ridiculous orgy scene in perfume, i feel demented enough right now to deal with it.

hey look everyone who ever died from cigarettes, an electronic cigarette!

which one do you like better?

trophy – bat for lashes

electric feel – MGMT

good news, when the older than dust dude next door isn’t screaming at his fossil of a wife, he’s talking as loud as i talk when i’m out on the town hittin’ the sauce. i’m about to make a little dance video of myself and blast the f out of some jams to drown him out, once i check what oprah is about today.

ungh david cassidy is a guest BUT all the cosby kids will be on for the next segment, dance video will have to wait.

RIP fil’s underwears that give you the opposite of clit boners.

last nite he FINALLY gave in and performed a little underwear destruction ritual for me, i have been threatening to post a picture of them intact on my blog for ages now. please feel sorry for me and let the underwear digs begin, thank you. he used these guys once to wipe something down hence the bleach stains and everyone knows once you use an article of some sort to clean something WITH BLEACH you are entering a contract with yourself of getting rid of said item forever, or graduating it to rag status.

not fil though, ungh.

also there were tons of holes and rips in them (he still has some other pairs as sexy as these in his rotation cycle).

i am such a victim.

woah they redid oprah’s stage to look like the cosby’s house/set!

so far the only one who likes them is samir.

oh well.

they’re a little ali gish.

it’s snowing out, looks pretty.

i caved and bought the bat for lashes cd even though i am one million per cent jealous of the singer. sigh. like, is it too much to ask to just look like an imp, really, is it?

goos news, the jeans that took me an hour to select yesterday I HATE DEM! and i took off all the tags and everything swto;gshrdg[o0erhg0[‘hbn[!

here is my crappy unicorn i don’t think i can fix it without completely painting over it sigh!!!!

i also don’t think fil will be as excited for my new decorating scheme as i am. that sign is vintage, from the 70s, i just opened ‘em up today.

greasy bangs new glasses, pretend prescription bifocals for pretend reading i guess?

new! cheap! yay!

yes yes you get the idea.

so i went to old navy and i asked where all the ethnic shirts were and they thought i was a big racist. kidding i didn’t ask. i did try on 40 pairs of jeans though and wanted to commit suicide in the change room. old navy sizes their jeans even-numbered, which in hindsight really isn’t a difference it’s just a mind fuck really. basically my thighs are really skinny but i have love handles so im fucked no matter what. i bought a pair and im hoping that they will magically shrink around my thigh crotch area somehow over time and give a little more on the waist. i have 90 days to make up my mind over them too. that’s pretty funny i think.

the pair i got look exactly like the jeans i bought a year ago from winners when everyone was like wow you have lost a lot of weight and i’m like no i haven’t you suckers it’s the jeans i swear, so just like those ones except a size smaller.

i hate malls i hate people and i hate people in malls. ok i don’t hate malls i just hate the eaton centre after school time everyone scares me!

bath time!

ps. why do so many people from new zealand work at old navy? i encountered three different girls, what the hell?

one more thing, they (old navy employees) walk around with huge shopping sacks and they offer you one to shove all your finds in and they jump on you like vultures asking if you need help it was kinda desperate, anyway, the first one to approach me was some 40 year oldish totally lobotomy-seeming guy with these bags over his shoulder and i thought he was just some crazy person talking to me while i am in the middle of a what size am i jeans crisis like seriously you are scaring me buddy, then i realised ok yeah he works here, but it still felt weird like male kindergarden teacher weird, ungh, anyway, make it obvious to old navy newcomers or once every three year old navy shoppers that your thing is carrying around massive empty sacks, make a big picture display sign or something slam me in the face when i enter the store so i get it instead of getting creeped out instead.

and yes sheena if i keep the pants i will for sure cut out that big brother tag.