The Price One Pays For Being A Cow.

I cannot find a frickin' formal dress for the life of me. Honestly. It could be in my size (I mean, God forbid I actually go to a store--oh no! Wouldn't wanna inconvenience anybody!), but cost 300 dollars more than I want to make my parents spend. Or it can be cheap, but way not my size. Because I am a procrastinating hog with a 46-and-a-half inch waist that will inevitably end up feeling dumpy next to everyone else even though I put in way more work to what I look like and actually like fashion but always am a fraud!

You know why I cannot fully embrace my inner fashionista? Because I am curvy. I have hips! And fat arms! And disgusting varicose veins on my feet! And I look like a frog from the side! So I work to hide the belly fat and redness and ginormous thighs and that's why! I'm not unfashionable by any means. I'm just not as out-there as I'd like to be.

And oh, the shoe issue. I have size 12 feet. That kinda cuts down on my consumption of Ralph Lauren and the like. That and the lack of money.

My Wish List.

(if I could have 2 out of the 4 I'd be happy)

1. A boyfriend. Or no---better: a husband. That's much more committed.
2. Beauty. I am beautiful if you look at me the right way. (Like, not from the side.)
3. A normal-sized body. That'd be flipping fantastic.
4. Two happy, in-love parents.

Like I said. Give me two.

"What was that? A lesson learned?"

Okay, so after my little passive-aggressive list of yesterday, I have slightly calmed down. But I honestly cannot find anyone I fit in with, because they're either:

A] Too uptight.
.................or................
B] Not uptight enough. (Uhhh, I am sorry, but I like to know approximate times, at the very least]

Not like I mind. All the time. Entirely. Okay, so it gets under my skin once in awhile, but I would rather have only a few friends that I actually like than a ton that make me want to go all Shannen Doherty on them. (That phrase, by the way, is stolen from Jen Lancaster, who wrote Bitter Is The New Black and a couple others that I have yet to read. Gotta give credit here!)

So the lesson of the day is: Do not go on an adventure across state lines with people unless you know for a fact that you're not gonna raise your blood pressure about fifty points.


....and on a totally unrelated subject, I have no clue where my seasons one and two of Sex and the City are. Which is depressing, since I feel like a little nineties New York at the moment. A little early Carrie/Mr. Big dysfunction never hurt.

The List of The Night. Or Early Morning. ,,,or whatever...

Things I Never Want To Hear About Again.

• Sarah Palin.
• The Republicans.
• Disapproval of Christianity. And religion in general.
• The words "dick," "cunt," "banging," "whore," "slut," "cootch," or "condom." Seriously? Grow up.
• Your talent at accents.
• Ugly architecture.
• Your mild impressment with a Broadway musical. Really? It was "pretty good"? Probably because they've spent about a thousand hours perfecting it.
• How expensive things are.

Oh, and I'm sure there are more. But this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Have a little priest.

So my new obsession is Sweeney Todd, which is frighteningly dark. Blame Neal for that one. He introduced me to its fabulousness. I love Mrs. Lovett. I want to play her someday. She kinda reminds me of me, actually. Except I have never made a pie in my entire life. Especially out of, ahem, people.

All right, I'm tired. It's time to hit the hay.

Oh, do I feel like crap. And I'm not sure if it's mental or physical (the first time I tried to type that it typoed SO badly.....I'm embarassed), but given the fact I'm hacking up a lung every seven seconds, I'm pretty sure it's both.

As a quick question, asked in second-person: Why can't you care? I mean, actually let me know you care? I'd appreciate a "Feel better" or even a "You're breathing on me, move" to a half-wave and no facial expression.

God. He really doesn't care.

No, he doesn't love you. And he only shows active care to those that he loves. You get the passive kind.

I feel.....saying "I feel alone" is gonna sound so teenage angst. But I do. I have my parents, but they don't offer what I need. That's not a knock to them, they're great. But I honestly want someone that I can be fluffy and romantic with. I want to be part of a solid couple. Where it's assumed that I'll be with someone, rather than an "Oh, you're coming too?" I am sick of asking. I just....

I just really don't feel good.

Rant, Revised.

Okay. Or not.

You know, I really need to take stuff not so seriously.

I am BIPOLAR today! Goodness.

Rant.

The chipperness is momentarily gone, and all I want to get off my chest is this:

You are a pompous ass. And I seriously don't care what you think, at the moment.

God, I just want one friend. Is that so effing much to ask?

[Why I Should Not Visit Starbucks In The Morning And Drink My Latte Quickly.]

Hey, all! I'm in a weirdly chipper (and alert! PHEW!) mood, which is kinda surprising, considerign I spent yesterday mad at Nate....or Neal.....or whatever I've nicknamed that moron. My friend who hates relationships, remember? I'm not gonna dwell on it, because I don't wanna wreck my high, but he's recently struck me as immature. He hates his parents, he hates where he lives, he thinks that his opinion is the only intelligent and correct one. And it's kinda driving me crazy.

"That's ugly."
"Retard!"
"Vomit."
"Well, you know, some people deserve to get smacked with a baseball bat."
*eye roll*
*grimace*
"That's boring/outdated/cheesy/disgusting."

Okay. You're a mad genius who has all the answers. And some of the superiority is facetious and rather amusing, but not always. And especially given that I am attempting to be a witty and fabulous and shining example of a classy actress, I don't need this crap bringing me down. So I like things that are classic! Not everything new is good.

You know, I need to learn how to express these thoughts verbally. And I could. But I really really really hate conflict so I prefer to confess them to you, Dear Readers. And I like typing. So it's a good thing. :)

Oh geez, I just used an emoticon. I am chipper!!!!!!!!!!!

...you know, I wanna delete that. Smiley faces are not grammatical standards.

Oh, screw it. It's the weekend.

Who knows where? Who goes there?

I have the urge to type but no clue what to say. Which is kind of a first for me. I could start transcribing my RENT subtitles (what? you've gotta get the words!).

Awww. Kiss. Oohing.

I wanna be a bohemian.