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Blurty for lizz.
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| Tuesday, May 14th, 2013 |
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my brother hugged me. NO. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. |
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| Saturday, May 11th, 2013 |
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 you can't really see it, but--new shirt mod! |
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sign at the library: "You May Overhear the Conversations of Several Historical Figures." further in: "To Speak to One of these Figures, Please Register at the Circulation Desk." not to sound discriminatory, but when i picture the pioneers, i don't picture them being Asian. |
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| Thursday, May 9th, 2013 |
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I just realized this is the second day in a row that I've worn a Cure shirt. ....There has to be some unfavourable social implications attached to that. At any rate, I must be pretty fucking miserable. |
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| Thursday, May 2nd, 2013 |
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why in the fuck does my brother have to be such a good |
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| Monday, April 29th, 2013 |
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| Friday, April 5th, 2013 |
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someone threw up at my work yesterday. as in, full-on barfed right in front of the manager's office, roughly three feet from a trash receptacle. AND I MISSED IT. waaaahhh. s'funny 'cause, that's exactly how i feel, too. with that dazzling spectacle, this guy has effectively condensed my disdain and resentment for my job--festering deep within me over the last four years--and made it into something real, something tangible. and he's only been there for one month!! remarkable. |
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| Thursday, March 21st, 2013 |
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fuck you. my music isn't too loud... your face is. oooh. |
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| Wednesday, March 20th, 2013 |
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this black girl at my work told me that at African christenings, they hold the baby up and smear it's forehead with 'anointing oil'. like what Rafiki did with the coconut. for me, this puts The Lion King on a whole other level. of truth. |
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| Saturday, March 2nd, 2013 |
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you know what’s really brave? asking Sir Groucho over at the café for a driblet of half and half to put in your thermos of coffee, because you ran out at home. BUT I DID IT. |
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| Friday, March 1st, 2013 |
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| i have this absolutely horrid flavour in my mouth that leads me to believe i now know what eyeballs taste like. | ||||||
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| Saturday, February 23rd, 2013 |
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this guy on my FaceBook friends' list keeps tagging me in photos that have nothing to do with me--stills from movies i don't even like, images of ridiculous looking girls with the caption "i found another pic of you, lolz!"--et cetera, ad nauseum. at first it was kinda like, whatever, but now it's really starting to get under my skin, especially because he keeps doing it, and i don't have a lot of tagged pictures on FB to begin with. ....that are legitimate, i mean. i don't even really know him. am i being overly sensitive, contentious? if not, how do i kindly tell him to, you know, fucking stop? |
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| Saturday, February 2nd, 2013 |
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| It's inevitable: right after you clip your fingernails you will have to pick up something thin and tiny from the ground. | ||
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| Wednesday, January 30th, 2013 |
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| Three kids are beatboxing down the street. | ||
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| Saturday, January 26th, 2013 |
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Yesterday at work I had to call someone named--I kid you not--Kuntie, and tell her that her credit card declined. I hoped, more so for her sake than my own, that it was a typo.... It wasn't. I confirmed the spelling of the name and everything. Still, not nearly as unintentionally hilarious as the time I had to contact Nga. “Yo' credit car' decline, Nga!” |
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| Friday, January 25th, 2013 |
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| i'm generally wary of public washrooms that reek of ham. | ||||||
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| Saturday, January 19th, 2013 |
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so i almost died the other day. i'll set the scene: me, innocently cutting through the library parking lot, which is rife with speed bumps and other arcane cautionary symbols (besides the fact that it's A FUCKING PARKING LOT). he, tearing around the corner like a speed demon, safely ensconced in his chariot of doom; i believe it was a Honda Accord. clearly, i had the right of way, since i was on the road (the entrance to the parking lot) before he even turned the corner. not only that, but from his vantage point, i was behind a speed bump, a wordless indication to SLOW DOWN. i could hear him racing towards me, the road likely doing what it does in cartoons and separating from the ground, furling up under his Goodyears, and i--apparently because i have a death wish?--refused to halt. (though, now that i think of it, maybe it wasn't so much a death wish as it was wishful thinking, for once in my life truly buying into the notion that there is some good in the world, and not everyone is a self-absorbed, brainless tool. he'll see me, he'll see me, he's bound to see me. he'll stop, politely allow me to pass. who knows, we may even spontaneously break into song--as is wont to happen on a day like today, in REAL LIFF. cue buzzer: AIIIEERRHH!) i was almost at the other side of the road when i could feel the heat from the engine licking at the back of my legs and hear the obnoxious toot! of his horn. i turned just in time to see him waving a choice finger at me from behind the wheel, looking at me almost imploringly. i think what probably happened was he wasn't paying attention, texting or whathaveyou, and looked up at the last possible second and saw me--not exactly a shrinking violet decked entirely in black against a grey, wintery backdrop--which, in turn, startled him, so he was just reacting adversely to the situation. still, i was the one who could have been killed--he was the one riding the instrument of death, the Honda Accord. as a homely pedestrian, i have to accept the fact that there are dipshits behind the wheel, and as such, take all the necessary precautions in order to avoid becoming an unflattering grease spot on the asphalt. at the same time, i feel as though i've been punching above my weight in that respect, especially in this iambic, metropolitan paradise. i've stared death in the face, specifically at the hands of some overzealous motorist and through no fault of my own, far too many times. but now you have the pomposity to flip me the bird? in the immortal words of one Hank Rutherford Hill: the audacity! "did ye nae see me thaur?" i pointed. "ah was walkin', ye divet!" he rolled down his window and pulled up beside me. oh, it's so on. "why don't you watch where you're going?" "watch whaur aam gonnae?....whaur AAM GONNAE? hoo lang diz it tak' me tae cross 'at road? it's nae loch ah magically appeared afair ye." getting all technical on his ass. "ye waur th' a one bloody speedin' and nae payin' attention, cunty baws!" as i was shouting this he was pulling away, probably upon acknowledging that resistance is futile. but that last remark sent him slamming on the breaks. the guy--easily over forty years old--then opens his door like he's prepared to throw blows. i stomped right past the opening door and his emerging figure: "ye heard us. CUNTY BAWS. whit ur ye gonnae dae, ye grottie soapdodger?" he cast me a look somewhere between suspicion and bewilderment. i think then he may have realized--albeit belatedly--that merely stepping out of his vehicle wasn't going to be enough to send me scuttling for the hills, boots all a'quiver. and that i'm (at the very least) mentally unsound. "yeah, uhh, that's it. keep walking." he slammed his door. "ah hiner ye kill someain one day, ye filthy radge!" i yelled into a cloud of exhaust as he peeled away. result! yeah.... ah've also bin readin' a lotta Irvine Welsh.... |
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| Tuesday, January 15th, 2013 |
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 Yeah. He was always one for delicacy..... |
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HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY FIRST BOYFRIEND IS HAVING A BABY. No, not the guy who kissed me sloppily at recess--and ran away--but my first real boyfriend....as in, the first guy I had sex with? That...that loser my entire family despised, and who not only robbed me of my guitar and several, several band shirts, but my independence and self-esteem, too? The one that we--suitably, hilariously--called “Rob”? Yeah, him. I know, eh. ..... Fucking gross. I guess I'm not getting my $200 back, huh. |
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Blurty for lizz.
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shocked.
confused.
productive.
groggy.
curious.