1. Obese people that drink diet drinks. I saw a guy at the gas station buy 3 krispy kreme doughnuts and a diet sunkist. Just go all the way dude. Get whole milk! You already OBVIOUSLY let go, so why bother?
2. Paris hilton. She has the worst fashion sense i can think of. Everything she does is so matchy matchy. She is, hands down, the tackiest celebrity in the world.
3. Skinny genes. I will always secretly hate people who can eat whatever they want and not gain an ounce, even after they've hit the age where metabolism becomes retarded! you freaks!
4. Korean people driving cars they can't afford. And 30k millionaires. or Credit Card millionaires. It's gotta be an ego thing. I wish i could yell in their faces, "you look re dick u lass!!" *Patricia Arquette in True Romance*
--Signing off, Peas
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Ok! it's me, Liz. Yesterday, my sister and i spent a total of 5 hours at the hair salon. Disgusting. My butt was tingling so i had to keep shifting to the other cheek. i'm not that heavy, so my dual butt bones (tail bones?) become extremely sore and numb (maybe because i don't have much butt cushion for the pushin or wut nut.) When it was all done, i was afraid that my legs would just come out from under me and i'd fall over like a lego eiffel tower (aka a masterpiece). oh believe me, my hair is a masterpiece now!
Something i noticed is that my sister will be getting her hair done right next to me and will be blabbing away with her girl and i will hear her boisterous laughter even while she's getting washed out, and cracking jokes while she's getting blown out. And meanwhile, here i am with my face all pressed up into a magazine or texting away, pretending like i'm way too busy to make conversation with my colorist because i have no friggin clue what to talk about with her. I actually feel sorry for my colorist. I must be that one debby downer appointment in her long list for the day, the black spot in her perfect apple. GAH! In no better arena is the contrast in our personalities more evident than the hair salon. And there is not a more perfect place to showcase my social anxiety than in the hair salon. The one on one thing trips me up and i shrivel like a grape in the sun. and nobody likes raisins. (except me).
It's like a friggin case study. Put them in this habitat and see how they coexist with other species. Well, i'm like a tree and she's like one of those lemurs that chatter away in the trees and swing all over the place (and throw monkeypoo). I wish i was a little more social, but i leave the socializing to the socialite, to indulge to her delight. i don't even put up a fight. and it's not that i'm uptight or impolite, it's just that i turn paranoid android like someone who's high as a kite. aight?
*sigh* I wish i was not a female Woody Allen. i always say this. but there's no better way to describe myself than a little bit perverted and a little bit neurotic. i need to find a way to translate this and get across to others without seeming totally weird or totally stuck up. :/ or perverted.
anyways, here is some of our closet space. our grampa built some new shelves and racks, but last night when i was packing for Dominican Republic, i made the entire thing topple over and like 300lbs of clothes came crashing down like London Bridge. i almost got smothered! but my sister screamed for our brother to save her clothes! "aAAAHH! they're WRINKLING!!!" (grrr.)
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