i am going to be in a music video today for a band called major maker. i’m suppose to dress like a VICE do. i’m kinda getting anxious about it, not that i don’t already own ten hundred amazing shirts to wear it’s just i need to wear the ULTIMATE ONE! we have to bring extra shit for options, i don’t have a bag for this, melody has it, so i’ma roll in there with a huge paper shopping bag. no i will probably go buy some new clothes and a bag. sigh. life, it’s just…so, hard.
fil is jealous and sad that he is not going to be in the video and i said well they want young looking people which totally didn’t help and i was all uhhh i meant they want dirtbags? cool people? se;fiewY*POYTP. fil is too much of an adult i think. i think they want bitches only.
i hope i don’t get super nervous and pull out at the last minute like i do for EVERYTHING. ok i won’t.
in grade 8 i was on the track team, every morning i went to school early to run around the school the park the arena, down by the river, well mostly once the teacher ran by and the do-gooders it was more of an amble. anyway, i was a part of it for several months. i don’t even know why, i think one of my fat friends wanted to join and i was like ok i will too.
so the morning of our track event race against other schools i was “sick” in bed and my mom was like GET THE FUCK UP YOU SPENT MONTHS TRAINING FOR THIS AND NOW YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GO!?!
it was never my intention of racing or having any part of a competition, the way i saw it was totally different than how the rest saw it. to them i was suppose to be a “team player” and had to show my support. fuck that, i barely broke a sweat every few mornings a week i am not fucking running.
so yeah, i ended up going, i got a pretty decent place, and our girl’s team which i was a “team player” for got first place and everyone was all hey lauren aren’t you glad you went afterall, wow, first place! and like yeah guys i can tooootally sleep at nite now, thanks.
one morning we saw a pack of foxes by the river, that was cool. they have long pointy noses.
you know how you’ve seen a million movies at the theatre and then you go to the movie store and go hey lets rent this and then other dude goes uh we saw that already and you are like, oh. then you find a movie stub in your purse from a century ago and you are like WOW I SAW THAT?! LUCKY! that just happened to me, i found a harry potter goblet of whatever the crap is the most recent one ticket stub and my mind was blown.
neil/noel and i use to date. he remains friends with all of his ex-girlfriends. we are forming the ex-girlfriends club where we get together and shit talk noel. ok where we get together and I shit talk noel. noel dumped me over email, i guess we were barely dating, i say it’s his fault cos he was the first to initiate the super gay annoying coupledom crap. i posted the email on my blog when it happened and the subject is: you will hate this email. then i flew to nyc and hung with jamie and did lots of cocaine. no hard feelings noel!
i’m serious. i am not being sarcastic here. i just read back my post and thought wow that was suppose to come off as funny but it just seems bitter.
i’m attempting to distract myself.
i think i should start a noel’s secrets blog and every sunday i will publish a magical noel secret!
i’m beginning to care less and less about my blog. no no don’t cry. yet! after rambling to aimee about this and that for awhile she said WOW it sounds like you really hate your blog.
then i thought about it some.
yeah, maybe i guess i do. or maybe i just hate myself or the direction i’ve steered this thing. it seems every march i get all contemplative and insanely self-absorbed, don’t forget the insane part!
i’ve successfully turned myself into a novelty fine though i pretty much have felt that way my entire life now it’s just, in blog format too. people who are wallflowers are uh, useless? make yourself useful in social situations. do you get what i’m getting at? different people have different skills. some are scientists some are flower arrangers or trapeze artists, and others are drunken morons who tell fart jokes to make 45 year old women laugh at 2 am at the horseshoe. that’s me, that’s how i survive and that’s my “use” basically.
when i’m prattling on about raymi this internet that and facetiously decree I AM FAMOUS to random strangers at the bar or I AM A BIG DEAL they don’t get if i am serious or sarcastic or lying – i don’t even know anymore to be honest and hence the not caring about this blogthing – once you stop caring that’s when cool shit happens.
anyway.
it’s just a fucking blog. or it’s me. the blog or me.
