Archive for August, 2009

Proof that I will soon die

August 8, 2009

In 12 days or so, my friend Lucy are leaving on an 8-day cross-country road trip. SO EXCITED! However, in preparation, I made the wise decision to watch every single horror movie about road trips in existence. (Almost.)

GOD DAMN! Who knew so much could go wrong?!?! So far, I have learned these things about road trips:
1. Pretty girls are always die. Especially if they’re slutty and/or stupid as fuck.
EXCEPTION: A pretty girl might survive under the condition that she is introverted and suspicious, or willing to kill all her friends.
2. People having sex always die first.
3. Tents are easily slashed with just the right knife.
4. Never pee in rest stops, or you will be stranded there and eventually tortured.
5. Never follow a detour sign, especially not cardboard ones.
6. Never accept an invitation to the Guts ‘n Glory Festival.
7. Amish people are not to be trusted.

So, to avoid painful torturous death, I resolve to:
1. Be really ugly all the time.
2. Wear a wedding ring and call my fake husband on a nightly basis.
3. Pee in the car while in transit.
4. Bring a gun and kill everyone I see (besides Lucy).

Okay, I feel better.

Swim Teams: Round Two

August 7, 2009

I blogged last summer about how much I hate swim teams. Once I moved to Ohio, I totally forgot about them. Nobody swims in Ohio. I mean, how are you going to make room for a swimming pool amongst all that corn? But yesterday, on a typical afternoon frozen yogurt, the feelings flooded back: I REALLY REALLY HATE SWIM TEAMS.

There was a caravan of delightfully decorated SUVs (because you can’t transport one soggy, wet 5-year-old in anything that gets more than 4 miles to the gallon) heading through Lafayette. When I say “delightful”, I mean STUPID. SO STUPID.

You can totally tell what these moms are thinking. Those giant shark fins are totally compensation for everything they lack. The mom with the biggest foam fin is totally the mom with the smallest dick. And you’ve got to love the window paint.

“Go Tommy! Swim fast! Your success will fill mommy with all the meaning that breast implants could not!”
“Go Tommy, win! Then, remember you have baseball practice after this and then Boy Scouts tonight! Remember not to eat, only skinny boys can WIN!”

I know I’m wrong. I was wrong last summer and I’m wrong again. But I really really fucking hate swim teams. They represent everything I hate about Lamorinda.

Just kidding. Swim teams are okay, I guess. Whatever. I’d be fine with it if they TOOK THOSE FUCKING FINS OFF THEIR CARS. And kept their drippy babies away from me.

Inevitable Summer Regression

August 3, 2009

…Hiii. It’s been awhile, right? I guess I didn’t really the need to blog at all during the school year. That was pretty dumb.

But yeah. Really, this summer has been awesome. I’ve found that, as expected, I’ve regressed to the mental state of a 9-year-old. I spend all my time listening to Britney Spears, playing old Pokemon gameboy games, and don’t even get me started on how many times I’ve seen the Hannah Montana movie. Really.

I guess what’s keeping me partially anchored at age 19 is all the sex work. Not the kind you’re thinking of. I’ve been volunteering manymanymany hours a week at Planned Parenthood, training to become a Reproductive Health Specialist. It’s hard to think about Pokemon when you’re discussing the various ways to transmit gonorrhea.

Grapefruit is calling. I’ll finish this later.