Friend: “You should go on a date with Edward.”
Me: “Nah, I’m gonna try to finish this year without dating — less risk of discovering I suddenly, viciously hate anyone else after I’ve slept with them. Seems like a good general life policy.”
Five more months of sexual deprivation should make for a very happy New Year’s date for whomever is around, though. (There’s a “ball drop” joke here somewhere, but I’m kind of tired.)
My brain is no longer tormenting me after Nine Days of Emo. (Sort of like the 12 Days of Christmas — equally shitty music, far less tinsel.)
Sshhhh! Be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting equilibrium.
I read about HelloFlo on Jezebel.com, and while I’m totally on board with the kiddie starter set of basic feminine care needs and some candy on a monthly auto-delivery (which, hey, solid plan), I’d also like to set myself up on some kind of Old Pro’s Plan. (OMG, we could be down with OPP!)
I’m thinking the same base idea with the feminine products, but add a selection of salty snacks, a few pints of ice cream, fancy chocolates, a heating pad, and a bottle of Aleve. Super customizable to fit your Special Snowflake Cycle needs — whatever your ladyparts demand, obviously, you just have to check a box. (See what I did there?)
I’d probably give you $100 a month if that just appeared at my door every few weeks via some sort of Magical Menses Unicorn. Or, you know, UPS, whatever. (Though, I mean…there should clearly BE a Magical Menses Unicorn. I’m just saying.)
Discussing fat-girl book-to-movie casting with a friend, and he cited In Her Shoes by Jennifer Weiner.
“Yep, I read that book and saw that movie. The author wasn’t pleased with the casting, appearance-wise. Toni Collette weighed 20 lbs less than I do and worried in the movie voiceover about how her ass looked in a thong, and lamented that she loved shoes so much because they ‘always fit.’
“Um, whatever, lady. Sorry, I couldn’t hear your tiny violin over all my ear fat. Also, shoes never fit me, either, so eat a dick — maybe it has some calories.”
(Not to hate on Toni Collette, or on skinny women at all. She gained the weight they told her to gain for the role. I’m not saying she should have been made to put on 50 lbs more. It’s just that Toni Collette at ~120 lbs. should really not be the standard for Cameron Diaz calling you a “fat pig,” as happened in the movie.)
I mean, c’mon, really?
Yep. Toni Collette — clearly a total fucking hambeast.
Conversation with a friend:
Friend: “Man, if semen tasted like peanut butter…”
Me: “Oh, I’d be tapping that shit like a keg.”
Friend: “You’d think God would figure out a way to make that happen.”
Me: “Well, God or Pfizer.”
Such a good song. Fiona Apple should release a new album every year by some kind of government mandate. I’m kind of soulless, but some of her songs just reach in and yank out my insides.