Date Your Own Age Bracket!!!
I want to own Just Married on DVD. Honestly. I’ve spent the evening in a silence only periodically broken by my own laughter watching it on TV. Ashton Kutcher really plays the reluctant husband well… like in What Happens in Vegas, which I’ve watched twice this weekend. What a travesty that he’s married to a 50 year old walking corpse.
Forget swine flu, SARS, HIV, bird flu, typhoid, Amazonian hookworm, world hunger etc., there an epidemic more close to home: a lack of young, NOT INSANE, eligible men. Ashton, for example, is wasted on someone 30 years older than he is. Should be some kind of law… Date Your Own Age Bracket… I hate “cougars”. Who do they think they are? Robbing our generation!! Did their mothers do it to them!? No! It’s totally selfish of older women to think they can have the 20 years old who, generationally (if thats a word), belong to us. Kinda. I use “belong” loosely. It leaves us in a complete male-famine. And my other annoyance… why is every guy in my university a jock? Or a jock-type? sports-wear, a light bag (because they dont carry books because they dont work) who are surrounded by 3 acres of female acolytes. I’m stereotyping I know but its true… and if they’re not jocks, they’re weird, scruffy, unshowered, hippies who hang out with females who are weird, scruffy and unshowered. Neat, refined, tidy, cleanliness is no longer attractive. You need to be a stumpy, greasy haired, band girl whose always bent over slightly and snorts when she laughs and listens to obscure music played by unknown local bands. And who has an active account on WOW. Someone hand me a fucking bucket I’m going to hurl.
That’s the main issue. Weirdos aside, my main point was that there’s a famine of epidemic proportions and cougars aren’t helping it.
In other news, the entire city where I live flooded last week. So the university made an exception to cancel all lectures/activities for this week and push our deadlines a week later because 25% of all campus facilities were damaged. It was dramatic to say the least. People lost property, people were waist high in water…
Shittiest and best part of the week came in 2 lumps. I finally ordered my new bed. It’s a dark wood frame and a springy deep mattress. It’s coming next week. I’m so paranoid that they’ll deliver the wrong one like what happened last time I tried this. So to make sure, I’ve given the delivery people my number so they can ring me first before my dad to verify that what they have in their stupid van is exactly what I picked out. It’s a bit primabitch of me but… this is important. Coming home from ordering the bed, I found my little kitty Leo on the road, but it was horrible and shocking so I don’t want to talk about it.
I love Lady Gaga’s bit in Video Phone. Kicks some life into a dead-sounding song. And I like the way Beyoncé says New Orleans. I said it like “New Or-leens”, but she says it “New Awh-luns” which is probably the correct way to say it, maybe. But I’d feel odd say “Oh yes, New Awh-Luns, yes… jazz, creole…” so… I dunno where I’m going with this…
Next! 21st birthdays… honestly. Where’s that bucket. I’m too polite, I think. Nice to get asked, but realistically? It spells out awkward and it spells out just-making-numbers. And do you get them a card, if so… what would you have to say? Being there, I’d feel like I was selling out my inner feminist and sense of romantic justice. And plus… Awkward awkward.
10 Things You’ll Never Hear Me Say:
1. It’s two thirty a.m. after a club. I want to walk down a dark alleyway alone on my way home.
2. I’m going to Iraq.
3. I love ketchup.
4. It’s great that men don’t open doors for women anymore.
5. I wish I could go back to school again, I had such a great time with all my friends.
6. Hang on, I’m just going out to buy cigarettes.
7. “Party in the USA” truly doesn’t make me jealous of Miley Cyrus’s looks/her everything. ……. “and the britney song was on, and the britney song was on!!!!”
8. I want to live where I live forever and ever and ever. I love my neighbours.
9. Sorry, I have a date that night.
10. I have breast implants.
Suckfests, and how to have one.
A suckfest can be defined, and had, by one single person. Take me for example. I bet I’m one of the few girls left who run to turn up the TV when they hear an old Craig David or Nsync song come on the music channels.
It was Friday night last night… prime time for a suckfest. I spent the night reading Lord of the Rings. Yes. Reading on a Friday night can be counted as a valid suckfest.
Saturday night, tonight, I resorted to throwing the TV remote control into the air, repeatedly, and catching it, before repeating the action. Then challenged myself by standing under the chandelier and throwing the remote up as close as I could to the chandelier without actually hitting it. It only served to momentarily seduce my boredom, not satisfy it.
There used to be something dignified in being a hermit, or even hermit-like after a series of lame – LAME – Friday and Saturday nights. But I think even the hermits have now the leeway, and impatience, to admit that we’re quite bored.
And this is always an annoyance on Fri & Sat nights. Midweek one would hardly consider it!
