"I Dreamed I Went To Singapore, Got Bored, And Robbed A Liquor Store"
My life has taken on a predictable spin, for which I am saddened. I love having a pattern, but when the pattern stuffs me into the box labeled "boring," then I start having issues with said pattern. ("Stupid pattern," I say, sullenly and bitterly. "Come out here so I can kick you in your face. And stick ballpoint pens in you." You don't want to get on my bad side; the six-year-old mentality is brutal at times.)
My typical day goes as follows: I get up, stumble into some clothes (Usually--I'm planning to boycott pants to protest The Law; ask me for details about said boycott and the story behind it later.), go to work, come home, eat dinner, do whatever it is The Parents would like, go to the gym, come home and shower, go out with one of my friends, come back, get online, and crash. That's it; that's my life. There is no room for adventure or intrigue in it, and the lack of potentiality is killing me. The only excitement I get is when I think for a few seconds that Art has managed to break the internet (again, and for reals this time). Then I realize he's been misleading me with his wiliness and his vowelage (vowelage, n. -- the overuse of vowels in a word to convey underhandedness or suspicion, such as in "maaaaaaaaybe" or "riiiiiiight").
I wish I had some thrilling story to relate to you. I wish some breathtaking something had happened to me, and I could carefully craft it in words for you here. I'm not above getting married just to break the monotony, so look for that in the near future, but for now, all I have are plans. Planning, I might mention, is my forte: Be afraid. That said, plans are all about the future, and the future is not now, and the future not being now, and the plans not being now, now is very, very boring and dull.
Ooh! Ooh! Someone came in to check how I was doing! Human contact!! Sweet merciful cabbages, what have they done to me. Did you see that excitement, that overuse of punctuation? I was really that excited. Yes, I really have become this lame. Okay, ya know what? This weekend = me + trenchcoat + hat + (fake glasses + nose + moustache). A good disguise makes everything better. If you wanna come along, just give me a shout.
My typical day goes as follows: I get up, stumble into some clothes (Usually--I'm planning to boycott pants to protest The Law; ask me for details about said boycott and the story behind it later.), go to work, come home, eat dinner, do whatever it is The Parents would like, go to the gym, come home and shower, go out with one of my friends, come back, get online, and crash. That's it; that's my life. There is no room for adventure or intrigue in it, and the lack of potentiality is killing me. The only excitement I get is when I think for a few seconds that Art has managed to break the internet (again, and for reals this time). Then I realize he's been misleading me with his wiliness and his vowelage (vowelage, n. -- the overuse of vowels in a word to convey underhandedness or suspicion, such as in "maaaaaaaaybe" or "riiiiiiight").
I wish I had some thrilling story to relate to you. I wish some breathtaking something had happened to me, and I could carefully craft it in words for you here. I'm not above getting married just to break the monotony, so look for that in the near future, but for now, all I have are plans. Planning, I might mention, is my forte: Be afraid. That said, plans are all about the future, and the future is not now, and the future not being now, and the plans not being now, now is very, very boring and dull.
Ooh! Ooh! Someone came in to check how I was doing! Human contact!! Sweet merciful cabbages, what have they done to me. Did you see that excitement, that overuse of punctuation? I was really that excited. Yes, I really have become this lame. Okay, ya know what? This weekend = me + trenchcoat + hat + (fake glasses + nose + moustache). A good disguise makes everything better. If you wanna come along, just give me a shout.
posted by juxtaposer at 8:25 AM
6 Comments:
natalie portman went to Morocco all by herself.. whats making you girls so adventurous?
Hahaha! Disguises are pretty great. We never did get to the International Cinema in disguises...who did we want to hide from? Was it Brian? Probably him...I can't quite recall.
And, speaking of sweet cabbages, both merciful and merciless, guess who I got a letter from yesterday? That's right. He called me a weirdo three times, requested that I send him Jell-o, and made fun of my good tears. I miss that kid.
What a sad life, poor little girl. Well, that is how things go in the Gulag. I guess driving the new boat was too boring to even mention. Or would that blow the notion that things are not quite that bad?
Got to go now, my "super-secret Federal agency whose name I can't reveal" is calling me for another assignment.
Did I get to explode the boat, though? No! As Ben Harper would say, "Oppression, you reach out with your long arm."
At least you get the fun of secretly being a spy... and don't think I don't know about that. It's the only explanation for the 13,000 newspapers delivered to our home every day.
I bet all those pictures I get from 'cousin' George gives it away.
I hope you behave tonight. Someone you know called looking for you and
got to talk with 1/2 of The Parents. If the police don't call here tonight, we will tell you what was discussed.
Ha! The police didn't call, and Mom told me the mystery. Turns out if anyone tried my cell phone last night, it didn't so much work. I apologize for that, and blame the spiders lurking in Jenny's house. And also Jennifer Garner. I don't know how, but I'm sure she had something to do with it; her, and her huge dimples and bad movies. Anyone who procreates with that Ben Affleck is evil and must be done away with.
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