make up you fucking mind already.

I put out on the first date and they don't call again. I don't put out on the first date and they don't call again. I act interested and they ignore me, I show interest in someone else and they act like they are presenting in the jungle or something.
I hate everyone.

This guy was walking around the picnic tables at the Bronx Zoo.

I've read The Catcher in the Rye at least 4 times and loved every minute of doing so.

"If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she's late?"
Good bye JD. You may have been crazy, but you were a damn good writer.
When I was in India I was once hanging out in the big air conditioned Barnes&Nobles type bookstore and saw a JD Salinger book called For Esme-- With Love and Squalor. I was so excited to find a Salinger book that I had not yet read (and in India of all places) that I bought it and read it all right away. After the first page I realized it was just Nine Stories published under the title of one of the nine stories.
"All morons hate it when you call them a moron."

Lackadaisy Crazy

Empathy, apathy, and entropy.


My apartment was broken into last night. All they stole was my iPod and some necklaces. Unfortunately all five necklaces were really important to me. My totally awesome and ghetto fabulous name plate, a necklace I went on a serious quest for and finally got from a guy selling stuff on the street, my arabic nameplate, and two nameplates to represent my dead best friend.

Who the fuck steals a nameplate?!?!? Assholes, that's who.

There is Always Room for Improvement.

This year I am going to do the traditional New Years resolutions. Lose 20 lbs and quit smoking. Oh yeah, and get employed. BLAU!

Oo, and get good at free-style rhyming. I will become the next hip-hop sensation.

an honest thought

Dear Amelia:
Sometimes it is just plain too painful to think about you. Is that ok? You probably know already that I think about you nearly all of the time, but sometimes I look at a picture or a hear a statement or anecdote or something about you, and I just have to walk away because it is neither the time nor the place nor the company to think slash talk about you. I love you in every way possible, but it seriously hurts. While your life may not go on, you know that your memory certainly does, and our (your close friends' and families') lives do. Therefore, sometimes we need to just avoid thinking about or being reminded of you. We will never, ever, forget you. But we all deserve at least a second or two of normalcy to balance out the gut wrenching pain we have all felt since you left this world. Oh great, now this sounds accusatory. Sigh, I just want you to know that we miss you, but we also need to live our own lives, because we know that to not do so would cause even more pain to everyone else. and unless everyone is just a total asshole, we ALL now know what an impact loved ones make upon us.
I miss you more then I ever thought possible.
love, or any other closing that could possibly be close to appropriate,
annie

I passed!

I am now an R.N.
Ha!

WOAH!

http://www.australiancoastalwatch.com.au/index.php/news/bnshark14432tx.article.html

hearts.

Why yes, I am really an 8 year old boy.

My dinner tonight was comprised of Doritos, a stale cupcake, and a tiny can of mandarin oranges. Carbalicious.

More cherries.

And then Miranda goes out with a detective?!?!
W
T
F
!
?
!
?
!
?

The cherry.

And to top off my wonderful (aka god fucking awful) Sex and the City horoscope life? I am now in the middle of watching the episode where Miranda thinks she is stood up for a date when really her date died. Both times of getting stood up by this guy I thought/kinda wished something bad had happened to him to make him not call me. Thinking something bad had happened would mean I hadn't been stood up, but thinking that is like when I did some time in the ER during nursing school. When it was slow we would get bored and wish for something to happen, but then we would realize that we were wishing for someone to be so injured or sick that they had to come to the emergency room. It takes a toll on your concionce. <--The Jimminy Cricket thing, it won't come up in spell-check.

S.A.D.? Not this year!

Seriously, I have cured myself. I see less sunlight now then any other winter ever (due to my nocturnalism) and I am not depressed. My secret? Vitamin D! No really, I started taking vitamin D supplements a couple months ago and boom, no unwarranted depression.
So this year, instead of the usual depression caused by my self diagnosed seasonal affect disorder, I will have some depression caused by life just plain sucking.
Because, my life just plain sucks right now.
-I can't manage to work up enough motivation to study for the test that determines the rest of my professional life. 9 days left to study.
-I live with an immature harpy who can only talk about herself, even while asking about me (the only time she has asked about me in the entire year we have been living together).
-I have no boyfriend and my list of sexual partners has now exceeded my age.
-My hair is just plain weird.
-I feel old.
-I can't quit smoking.
-I finally lose a whole bunch of weight and start to feel slightly comfortable in my own body and my older and always thinner (not just thinnER but actually thin) sister has to go and lose some weight too. Now she's not just thin but she's skinny. I go from a size 18 (and I mean old navy 18 which is like a size 20 in normal stores) to a 12 (normal store 12) and she has to go to a fucking size 2. I think she was a 6 before? Who cares, point is, it was finally my turn to shine and she ruined it. She has always been the smarter skinnyer prettier less awkward more badass one. She did better on her SATs, she graduated college on time, she never had to pay for damages that her friends caused to our apartment building, she works for the fucking U.N. and I am trying to be a nurse. She doesn't have the life sucking chronic disease and her best friend never died in a bike accident. Which brings me to my next point,
My best friend is still dead. The one true best friend who I never drifted from and never had problems with. It's been over a year and I still cannot really accept that she is dead.

Life sucks and I am tired of it. Shit man, I haven't even reached the hard part of life when I have to worry about money and mortgages and children and what not. My life sucks when everything is done for me.
Whine whine blah blah put it on a bumper sticker.

And I hate hate HATE HATE that all of this woe and self pity started all because some stupid boy stood me up. I hate being a cliche and I hate being predictable and I hate that I can somehow relate every episode of Sex and the City to my life at the moment. Sex and the City is like some ambiguous horoscope that always fits something going on. A guy doesn't want to have sex right away because "I don't want to mess this up" (his words) right before I see the episode where Aiden doesn't sleep with Carrie right away. Then I see the episodes where Carrie cheats on Aiden with Mr. Big right as I am starting to get the feeling that this boy keeps standing me up because he's actually married (doesn't help that my parents keep reminding me that "cops are notorious players."<--My mom's actual words. Since when do moms use the word "player"?).


BAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!! I am so fucking frustrated!

Hands down, one of the worst weekends of all time.

Wednesday was fine. I went over to one of best friends new apartment. It is the nicest apartment of all time. A whole bunch of people were supposed to come but the all bailed. That wasn't a problem though, it gave me and this friend time to catch up on things which is always nice. We planned to have everyone get together on Saturday for an old school sleepover, complete with pajamas and games and what not. Seriously, soooo excited.
Thursday was fine. Thanksgiving was fine, I got to play with my cousins adorable children the whole time so it was pretty good actually. I saw another best friend that night and got high and giggled alot and talked very mushily about the new boy.
Then came Friday. I rushed home from my parent's house to get ready to go to a show with the new boy. I was actually ready on time and looked fan freaking tastic. The night before he had said we should meet up around 7, so when 8 rolls around and I have still heard nothing from him I text and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. It is now 6 pm two fucking days later. He has stood me up twice. I've only seen him twice. What the hell? I've never been stood up before. I mean now with cell phones that shit just doesn't happen. He better have a damn good reason this time. I bet he's married or something.
I went to bed around 2 or 3 very pissed off. Around 5 I woke up feeling like I had a low blood sugar or something. I tried to walk to the other side of my room to test my blood sugar and then get some juice, but I didn't make it. Everything went white and upside down. I managed to stumble back to my bed and find the emergency stash of sugar pills I keep by my alarm clock. I forced my self to eat a bunch and fell asleep again. I kept waking up throughout the day with a monster headache and white flashes. Around 3 or 4 in the afternoon I was able to get up and test my blood sugar which was high, and make it to the bathroom. I almost fainted again going there and coming back. I spent the rest of the night texting my friends that I wasn't going to make it to the slumber party that was my idea. One of our friends from out of town came, which was a huge surprise and would have been absolutely lovely and amazing except that I couldn't lift my head for longer then a minute.
Now it's Sunday. I haven't studied, I haven't seen anyone, and I have been stood up for the second time by the same guy. The same guy that I was super excited about. I even told my parents about him and talked mushily about him.
I am such an idiot.

Oh, and guess what song came on just as I published this post? Fuck and Run by Liz Phair. I think my life is being run by someone who writes for a teenage television drama.

2 hours and counting.

Wtf.

What she said.

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/11/23/thinking-about-diabetes-with-every-bite/

Sharks just fucking terrify me.

I mean, they haven't evolved in a bazillion thrillion years. That means they are perfect. They ain't adapting for nobody. Well, except here.

These guys know what I mean:
http://fuckyeahsharks.tumblr.com/


I want these:




A previous entry about sharks.

Best. Date. Ever.

Finally, a nice cute boy with similar interests and a similar sense of humor. It's about fucking time.

This one came along after I get screwed over by a million guys in a row. One dumps me for being crazy, one gets bored and stopped calling, two were one night stands, one repeat booty call that just never got any good, three teases who just fucked with my head, two stalkers (kinda), and one who's southern charm made me think he actually liked me but just wanted some play. Right as I was about to get into a serious funk over all this boy crap, and right after I thought this new guy had stood me up one night, he goes and just blows me away with his awesomeness. He's just... he's kinda perfect for me.

He's got a great accent too. Heehee...




By the way, this is the guy I met on the train on Halloween. Again, who meets someone on the train? Who meets multiple someones on the train?

I'm down with the sauce. 'Cause my baby's got sauce.

I just heard a song where the guy says that his preacher stepfather misheard Biggie's line "Gucci down to the socks" as "coochie down to the socks."
I misheard/selectively heard that line as "being down with the sauce."

I've used this line in conversation even. Once I was having a discussion with my parents and sister about how my mother's favorite food is sauce, so at one point in the conversation I say:

"As the late, great Biggie Smalls
once said-- 'Sometimes you
just have to dip it in the sauce.'"

Oye. At least it was a good line.

Gloom...dispair....pity....blah blah blah.

I am really good at letting people take advantage of me.