Thursday, June 24, 2010

Take a hike assholes...(or maybe I need to).


Thursday, 23:40, www.jackwills.com.

I scan the website, watch the video with the naked girl, and go ahead and look at the clothes. Pretty overpriced, but what isn't in this world?
I think, "I suppose I could invest in that bra," and like I always do, I skim the details of the product. It comes in sizes 32A, 32B, 32C, 34A, 34B, and 34C.
I think, "Well nevermind,"
What pompous bitches, them Jack Wills people are. I guess their argument would sound a little bit like, "Well, there isn't a law that states we must cater to every shape and size, so why should we? We're sick of all the fat people trying to look good in the kinds of things we sell, so we just won't let them shop here," it would sound just like that, in a British accent.
And I would say right back to them "fuck you," and I would go weigh myself and grumble and be an angry girl for the rest of the hour, and I would console myself by Googling "can anyone like chubby women?"

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Facts about today.

This morning, I got up at 5:00 to take some vitamin that requires that I have an empty stomach upon taking it, went back to sleep, and got up again at 6:32.

The yearbook is finally done. I think working on it has made a shut-in out of me.

Since I can't find my brother, my dad is in the basement, and my mom is off-island bringing my poor cat to surgery, I'm home (practically) all alone. I've made myself some coffee. I texted my dad asking him if he wanted any, but I don't think he's going to want some since he usually drinks coffee when mom is here, too.

I am sitting in my leopard chair in my leopard snuggie.

Today marks the last day of spring break. I enjoyed my time, but it always seems to slip away all too quickly. Five more weeks. Five more weeks.

Today I had delicious chocolate meringues. I don't usually like meringues, but these ones were nice.

I need some better things to write about.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Did you know if you were famous you could kill your wife, and theres no such thing as 25 to life as long as you got the cash to pay for Cochran



The weather here is beautiful and it's giving me awful nostalgia. It makes me remember when we hung out in middle school in the summer time and we'd sleep in your basement and wake up at nine forty-five in the morning and sit on your kitchen counter and floor and have a bowl of Cocoa Puffs in those pink and green and blue plastic bowls with ridges. The temperature was warm enough to sit in your yard and let Luci come and love us.
I would put on my god-awful camo print capri pants and a white teeshirt and my grey and green vans that I bought because you had the same pair, and you'd wear jeans that you rolled mid-calf and a black teeshirt and all those plastic bracelets and strings you used to wear around your wrist with those tight necklaces you wore and that pair of black and pink shoes you had, and we'd talk about all kinds of irrelevant things, like the boys who are still best friends and the one of them that you dated and the other one who I still pine for.
I remember you had a cell phone and I did not. It was such an enviable piece of equipment because it lit up with colors when it rang, and you could read text messages from the front screen of the phone. Today, we would look at it and call it an obsolete, low resolution flip phone, but that's the phone I'll always remember you having before any other.
I was twelve when we remodeled my house. My room had no rug and the walls were made out of foam boards, and the place was opened up so that it was a 25' x 35' room and when The Young and the Hopeless came in the mailbox I put it in my CD player and turned it up and listened to it. That album is, to this day, the only album I ever was just in love with. I've never been so excited about a group of songs.
But today, the weather is just like I remember it was in the summer of 2004 when the breeze was warm and the sun's rays seemed to cover everything and the tree in your yard made shade and inside was just thirteen steps away.

I miss these times terribly; they are out of my reach.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Questionable...

Cal is thirteen, so he's still learning how to make meals on his own. We help him out by purchasing simple things like cereal and Hot Pockets. And Easy Mac.
My mom received a phone call from my little brother one day when she was at the store, and he said to her when she picked up,
"Mom, um, where are you?"
and she said
"I'm driving home..why, what's wrong?". She asked what was wrong because Cal had the sound of fear and confusion in his preteen boy voice that's not quite done changing.
"I'm having some trouble with the microwave,"
"Well what's the matter?" mom was getting worried.
"Nothing, just come home soon,"
So mom came home soon and Cal was sitting on the wooden swing-bench in the front yard, staring at his dirty boy hands. Mom got out of the car and walked into the smokey scented house with Cal. Cal lead her to the microwave and when he opened it, grey air swirled and spilled everywhere, all over the counter. When the air cleared, what was visible was, at first, an undecipherable object that was yellow and blue and black. It smelled awful, like the smell that rocks make when you clash them together to make a spark, mixed with the smell of plastic and preservatives. It was hot to the touch so mom got an oven mitt.
"I forgot to add water," Cal said.

The birth of "Easy Smoke", ladies and gentlemen.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Boston je t'aime

I went to Boston with my family and on the last morning of our stay in the Theatre District, we went for a promenade (which is French for stroll). It was breakfast time and our tums were growling and snarling and we decided to blow off the buffet (also a French word) at the Courtyard Marriott because it was pretty mediocre the morning before. The morning before, there was a room that looked pretty classy until the hostess sat us down next to the forty-three inch flat screen that spilled the morning news all over my scrambled eggs, which might have served better as the sole of a shoe. On this morning, we ventured up two blocks to see what we could find to muzzle our stomachs and on the way we saw five police motorcycles parked up the walk. What happened next was something that I've never seen before in real life. It's something that's always in movies and cartoons and books but I'd never seen it before now with my own eyes. The cops were in the Dunkin' Donuts. And can you guess what they were eating? They had before them donuts and coffee. I nearly laughed, and I wanted to acknowledge them to let them know that I appreciated that they were eating donuts at Dunkin' Donuts but I didn't. I wonder if they were doing it for the shock factor.

I stepped up to the counter where I ordered a a honey bran muffin and a small cup of ick with cream and no sugar.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Stop & Shop...been holding out on me.



I bought the most delicious chocolate chips at the store last Sunday. Maybe they taste so damn good because they're the cheap kind and they're Stop & Shop brand and I thought they'd be unsatisfactory. I bought them because I'm a jobless teenager and I didn't want to buy the nice kind because I knew I didn't really need them. They are better than Nestle, and they are better than Hershey's.

Cumby's also has been keeping secrets from me because their pint sized ice creams are the best I've ever tasted. No other ice cream is better.

I can't even describe these things. Please trust me, you just have to buy them for yourself.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Don't you have to pick up your girlfriend from kindergarten in a couple minutes?

Something I just don't understand is the attraction to underclassmen girls.

Enlighten me, boys. Is it their lack of hips that makes you hot? Does their negative dignity and independence turn you on? There must be something in that Malaia by Hollister. Regardless, I bet it feels so good bumping up against a bone bag in the sheets you put on your bed two girlfriends ago. Steamy!

I guess their cute, flirty talk is what gets to you. I can't imagine how it makes your heart flutter to hear her talking about that blackout last weekend or how some asshole teacher gave her a D minus on her vocabulary quiz today.

The best is their cleavage. I always want to crack up when I see high school freshman and sophomore girls try to impress you with their push-up bras. Those are only A cups? I would have thought they were Cs, you little hottie! Mmm-mmm! Those strong boys can really get a handle on you now!

There are more beautiful, of-age females around you than there are brain cells in your head, but if ignorance, protruding pelvic bones, no dignity, and raccoon eyes make you squirm, I understand if you're scared of a woman.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

It's nice to have a friend

This morning, I woke up on a black futon in a basement. My arm was asleep and my phone was beeping and everything was groggy, so, fuddled, I pressed "dismiss" on the alarm and woke up forty-five minutes later at ten twenty-eight.

We ended up pulling out of the driveway and it was still before noon.

We drove to Edgartown because Katie had an urge to go there so I grabbed my wallet and I was excited to buy a muffin and a latte, because even though it wouldn't be a Che's latte it would still be tasty right about then.

McPhails: Thanks for a great season! See you in April! Okay, fine.
Among the Flowers: Being renovated? Whatever.

So we hopped back in the car and settled for Espresso Love because it's the only place open year round all week in Edgartown. Just one of many reasons down town Edgartown is probably the lamest town on the island. We drove for three minutes and parked on Winter street because the roads in Edgartown are all one way and there would be a lot of driving if we parked anywhere else. So we walked by the bus station and through that little back alley way that leads the the parking lot by the movie theatre and E Love. I screamed when every parking space in the whole lot was empty. I JUST WANTED A GOD DAMN MUFFIN! HOW F*#^$@&* MUCH IS THAT TO ASK? Is what I shouted.

By the time we'd walked back to the car it was one o'clock and the people at the bus station had heard me having a tantrum but I didn't care because my stomach was growling and I was so shocked that there was no where in Edgartown to get a cup of joe and something to eat. I still can't believe it.

On the way home, Katie and I sat silently in her '87 Oldsmobile. I thought of how uncomfortable it could be not to talk and how glad I am that we don't need to. It reminded me times when silence was worse than anything and how it was almost just as awkward to talk. You both know how the other person will respond to anything you say and you may as well not even be talking because everything brought up is not just stupid small talk, but the lamest of small talk. You know, when your palms are sweating and you feel more embarrassed with each tenth of a mile you drive and suddenly one of you says something like,
"I can't believe how nice out it is today. It's so sunny," if it's nice out, or,
"I hate this crappy weather," if it's raining. Even if you like rain you'll say you hate it and the other person will always say
"Yeah, I know. It sucks,"
And that's it. Maybe you nod for a couple seconds and do that weird flat thing that people do with their mouth that's meant to solidify something that was just said and the driver switches hands on the wheel but then it's back to silence. Then you play with your phone and sometimes if it's really dire, you play one of your phones' ringtones and you look at the screen like you're annoyed and you say,
"It's my brother. I bet he's wondering if I got his message last night. Sorry...'Hi, yeah. Pause. No I told you I was staying over. Pause. Well--ye--yea--YES I did. Pause. Okay I'll talk to you later. Pause. Okay I'll make sure. Pause. Bye,"

I'm glad I don't have to do that.


Saturday, February 27, 2010

I want coffee

Coffee's just a great thing that's warm and when you swallow it you feel it blanket every tube and intestine until the temperature of your body and the temperature of the coffee balance each other out, the way two lovers might, to create the most content feeling you've had all day.

I've had coffee all over the place but my favorite coffee remains to be a latte from Che's. It's so nice because someone bought that whole milk at the Stop & Shop checkout a quarter mile down the street and they put the change in their shirt pocket and they carried the milk back to the building and they had to wipe the condensation off of their left hand when they put it in the little fridge. They hand-packed coffee grounds and let them drain into tiny little glasses while they steamed that milk from the Stop & Shop a quarter mile down the street at for the perfect amount of time. And the same hands that put the excess one dollar and nine cents into the front pocket of a shirt gives you a mug full of heartfelt latte and and it's warm on your palms and there's foam on the top.

What I don't particularly enjoy is coffee from places like Dunkin' Donuts and Starbucks. I still, to this day, never remember that my "barista" expects me to let them know that I want cream and no sugar in my regular small coffee. Behind the counter is a coffee maker (coffee dispenser, rather) that spits out some shit that's made as soon as a button is pushed and on the same machine, a few tablespoons of low grade milk that arrived in a case of twenty trickles into your scalding cup of mud. No brewing or waiting or love or any of those things that makes drinking coffee so enjoyable.

Another hassle about off-island coffee business is that it's so industrial. I was once at a coffee kiosk at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. I picked out a styrofoam cup from one of three cup dispensers and the cup was white with some leaves that were meant to suggest these cups are green, and there were words on the cup that read MADE FROM 25% RECYCLED MATERIAL. I moved on down to the coffee dispensers and two signs let me choose decaf or regular. WE PROUDLY BREW STARBUCKS® COFFEE. Proudly? I inspected the dispenser for a hastened bit because there was a man with white hair in a suit waiting behind me, but the thing looked like it was from outer space. It was silver and it had a lever that was black plastic and I couldn't find the damn spout so I crouched a little and peered up at God knows what. I just saw a bunch of dark, dripping plastic, so I guessed that the dripping was from coffee poured previously and I stood up and put my cup back where the spout appeared to be and I pulled the little lever and the next thing I know my cup is on the counter and I'm shrieking and my hand is red. I was shocked and angry that the spout was not where I thought it would be. All I could do was huff because my instinct was not to cry in public and I was teetering on the edge of bursting out and sobbing. I've never been so close to tears without actually crying, but tears finally did emerge when I sat down with my new cup of coffee and my other cup which was full of ice. I put my thumb, the majority of the scalded area, in the ice and grimaced.

I guess I'm just used to this little place.

Friday, February 26, 2010

I went shopping


Today at about twelve in the afternoon I ventured out to the thrift shop. With sixty dollars in my back pocket, I went in ready to spend.

I found fake Bean Boots that would not forgive my high instep, some old fashioned post cards which I put back, some posters, a book, and a brooch. A couple days ago, I bought some socks and an ashtray. I always get socks because they're fifty cents and I know I won't grow out of them.

I didn't have any real luck in the clothing department. I've been checking out the books and kitchenware more than anything lately because Wuthering Heights won't give me muffin top and a used Shakespeare coffee mug won't go out of fashion.

When I paid for the posters and the book, the older woman behind the counter looked at me through her 90's specs and asked,
"Would you like a bag for these?"
And I said that I didn't and she looked appalled. She said,
"Well, okay," seeming worried for my new-used stuff, like putting my posters and my book in a little paper shopping bag would weatherproof my things or keep them safe or something. I imagined that she was probably thinking, she's so careless.
I saw the brooch laying there through the scratchy glass countertop while Katie paid for her findings and I told the woman that I wanted to buy that brooch, too. She asked if I wanted a bag for the thing, and I most certainly did not want a bag because I only paid three dollars for it, but I told her I did so that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

When I left the thrift store, I still had fifty-two dollars and I was surprised about that. I felt burnt out about it, too. Kind of like I was squeezing out every last will to buy. Maybe if I go shopping once a week, something amazing will occur. This is an underlying thought of mine. The only amazing thing is how fast five and five and five add up to fifteen and how my twisted desire for the number of hideous, oversized sweaters I bring home cannot be leashed. It's like buying lunch when you're not hungry. It doesn't do anything for you except for empty your pockets and make your pants smaller.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Thursday


Some people are just not people you can trust. For instance, the friend who snips pictures from your last month's Vogue magazine.

Excuse me, may I snip snip you?

So every day from that moment on, you look at this dimwit with cynical eyes, and spending your time with them becomes a burden because you now must keep a close eye on all of your magazines, or, similarly to any occasion when you know spittling infants are among you: hide the damn magazines.

The same person who robs you of your right to look at pictures while you read the latest celeb news will also always think that they are your dearest friend. They will most definitely call you up and ask for rides to places you would never otherwise trek, and they will borrow your money (in this case, the word "borrow" means "to take and keep"), and your clothes.

I've decided that I'm just not interested in such folk. Not no more.


Oh, and NO ONE is allergic to water. Please inform me if you are. Alright guys you win!