...the who cares girl...
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Christina Ricci in "Black Snake Moan". The Boy and I watched this film last night. Now I have to say, although Christina Ricci has never done much for me, she has quite the hot little body in this film. I don't know what she did, took up running or sold her soul to the devil--but her body is damn sexy. It's muscular, not emaciated. And what a rack! That movie inspired me to exercise today.
It took three car loads and one trip to a thrift store to drop off the bed, but the Boy and I managed to move out all of Merri's crap yesterday morning. When I called her last night to make sure that she had seen what we had done, she sounded all chirpy and happy. 100% recovery from her "illness" over the weekend. Bitch.
"Well, it's done," the Boy said last night after I hung up the phone.
"No, she still owes me 70 bucks!" I replied.
"Drop it." he told me.
Well, other than the Boy, who I am marrying in less than two weeks, I NEVER HAVE TO HAVE ANOTHER ROOMMATE AGAIN AS LONG AS I LIVE, PRAISE THE LORD. Roommates are not hard to find, but they are really fucking hard to get rid of. And it's impossible to be compatible. If you find someone you can be compatible with, you had better hold onto them tight. I guess that's why I'm getting married, eh?
I got the moving fever yesterday and at one point told the Boy I just wanted to rent a U-haul truck and move everything over, but he turned me down, saying that would be rude to Corinne, who we are already moving out a week early. She is so mad at me for not letting her stay with us until mid-August that she barely spoke to me yesterday when I was over at the apartment. Luckily, she doesn't hold grudges. Neither do I. That's why we've been best friends for so long.
I made two videos of the Boy yesterday while he was packing up his massive record collection. He refuses to throw out the Billy Joel records, even though he couldn't, offhand, remember a single Billy Joel song. I sang "Uptown Girl" for him, really obnoxiously and using his MC microphone. He hates me videotaping him. I have tried to explain to him, 10 or 15 times, that the videos are merely "practice"--I want to prove to myself that I have an interest in making videos using my digital camera before I shell out for an actual video camera, something I have wanted all my life. I have also repeatedly told him that NOT EVERY VIDEO I MAKE WILL END UP ON YOUTUBE.
He think it's a waste of time. "But people love mundane videos of ordinary activities!" I cried.
"NO, THEY DON'T." he replied.
He acts insulted when I whip out the camera. He automatically stiffens up and starts talking in a robot voice, and yesterday he put his hand over the lens. This is reminding me strongly of Nico, who hated having his picture taken. Well, fine! Be that way, Mr. Poopface. I'll just have to make videos of me and Maggie and Corinne, when she's no longer mad at me, that is. Sigh. Thhppppt.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Bridal shower pictures...
We wore nametags. Mine said "Liz (Bride)", in case anyone was confused.
Corinne and Cassy. Corinne has a habit of making obnoxious faces when she's having her picture taken...just like me.
See what I mean? Corinne and her "jazz hands".
Corinne and Cassy's gift to me--an "edible arrangement".
The Boy's sister Brenna's son, Elliot. I made sure to take a lot of pictures of Elliot to e-mail my mother, who loves redheads. My brother has red hair, and the Boy's sister has red hair, so my mother is hoping that we will have a red-headed child. I don't know--the blonde genes are pretty damn strong.
The first present I opened--"365 sex positions". Woo HOO! Most of the gifts were items that the Boy and I had on our registry--you know, dish towels, etc...but this was one of the "racy" items.
I borrowed this book from Brenna to give it a "test drive" before I buy it. It's fabulous, of course--what else could you expect from Amy Sedaris? I especially like the page that has a photo of Amy holding a bong and a list of her favorite munchies.
Elliot works the headdress.
When we were shopping for our registry items (we both felt dirty, but when you get married, people expect you to register), the Boy thought we needed a mixer. It came in pink, so of course I wanted it in pink, much to his disgust. Why not? It's totally kitschy and 50's. Maybe I'll put heart-shaped glitter stickers all over it, just to amp up the cheese.
Elliot had to try the tiara on. I don't know where/when I got that tiara, but I'm sure, like most things, it "seemed like a good idea at the time".
Elliot assists Princess Elizabeth with the gift opening.
It was a nice bridal shower. I had a good turnout of therapists from work, friends of the Boy's family, and Corinne and Cassy. Lunch was tasty and vegan, and everyone had a good time. At one point Brenna asked me if I wanted a "Bachelorette Party", and I said, "Isn't that what this is?" and I was told that Bachelorette Parties generally involve going out to a bar, getting shitfaced, and watching men strip.
"That sounds horrible." I said. "Anyway, I don't do that kind of thing anymore..."
"I can't even remember the last time I went to a bar," Corinne said. "Probably with you."
"...a long time ago." I said, shooting her a look.
Cassy, oblivious to this look, piped up: "I remember the last time I went to a bar with Liz!"
On the way back to the apartment from the shower I had a little "talk" with Cassy about appropriate topics to bring up at the wedding. Cassy has been known to flap her lips a little after a few drinks.
"You are not to bring up my past, disgusting behavior, the fact that I am in AA and the fact that I am sober now," I told her. "That's why it's called Alcoholics ANONYMOUS. If I want to talk about it, fine, but it's not appropriate for you to bring it up."
We decided that Cassy bringing up my past as a drunk was on par with my bringing up her past as a man, and now I think we understand eachother. THE PAST IS THE PAST.
Merri, yet another Roommate Who Won't Leave, similar to Cassy earlier this year, avoided my multiple phone calls all weekend, each one getting progressively more threatening. She finally picked up last night, and in her most pathetic voice, informed me that she had been "sick" all weekend. Okay, sure, when I was in my early 20's I was "sick" a lot too--but I was an active alcoholic. What's her excuse? I finally got her to give me her parent's address (where she's living) and the Boy and I are going to pack her shit up and deposit it over there today while she's at work. Seems like a lot of hassle, but if it gets her shit out of the apartment, I don't mind.
I had to break the news to Corinne last night that I'm kicking her out next weekend. She was pretty sure that she would be able to stay at our apartment until mid-August, when her and Cassy move in together. The prospect of spending the next couple of weeks at Cassy's shithole of an apartment was not good news to her. I could tell over the phone that she was pissed. I told her that I loved her about 16 times, hoping that would smooth things over. Good God.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
What's your DJ name?
The Boy has become addicted to crossword puzzles as well. Now we both do crossword puzzles in bed (after the wild humping, I mean), like a couple of geriatrics.
Cheesecake photo, courtesy of the Boy.
Another photo by the Boy.
Trial run of wedding make-up, including false eyelashes. Yesterday I discovered something mildly annoying (also something I've never had to deal with in the past): thanks to my new hobby of fake tanning, my face no longer matches my expensive foundation that I purchased for the wedding. So I have an orange body and a ghosty white face. I'll have to go out today and purchase another foundation (not an expensive one this time) that is not the whitest shade available. Sigh.
This afternoon is my bridal shower that the Boy's sister was sweet enough to throw. I'm going to head over to my apartment and pick up Cassy and Corinne in a couple of hours. All week long I've thought about what to wear--originally I had a real flamboyant drag queen-y picture in mind--I was planning on making a sheath dress out of some sequined fabric I've been holding onto; I was seriously contemplating wearing a tiara and maybe a wig. Over the week as I've become progressively more lazy/apathetic I went from that idea, to buying a new dress, to wearing a dress I made, to wearing a sundress from Delias. I'll still do my hair and make-up (maybe), but dressing like a drag queen for my bridal shower now seems...too effortful.
In other news, how am I supposed to respond to a middle-aged man that I unfortunately added as one of my Myspace "friends" who wants to "get together" with me because I am a GG (Genuine Girl) and "learn to be more feminine"? Pictures of this guy on his Myspace feature him dressed up as a French maid, getting whipped by a woman, with his face covered with a black bar. Hmm. I'm opting, right now, to not reply anything at all. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to say? "Sorry, I'm not into that" and incite more messages? Jesus Christ, fucking Myspace.
The bridal shower is going to be at the Boy's grandmother's house. She's adorable--she has no idea what it means to be vegan. "But they can eat chicken, right?" she reportedly asked the Boy's sister the other day. I think they are preparing vegan and non-vegan items for the brunch--so I'll probably get a green salad. Green salad is great! I love green salad. Unfortunately, I still have not been able to find a satisfying replacement for my favorite, non-vegan salad dressing--bleu cheese. Damn, that's depressing.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Um...uh...aghhhhfdfdhj...I started another blog today. YES, ANOTHER! Well, I just want all of the vegan recipes that I use to be in one place so that they are easily accessible, dammit, so I started a blog called "Vegan Vices". The Boy gave me the idea for the title. Unfortunately, there is already a blog called "Vegan Vice", which is pretty damn close, so I don't know...I may have to change it.
Also unfortunately, the title I originally wanted, "Vegan Schmeegan", is taken already. What the hell! We all think we are original, magical and mystical creatures but the truth is...we're not. Sigh.
Anyway this vegan blog is going to be all about vegan recipes and nothing else, I've decided, so I can focus my attention on THIS blog. That's right, it's all about YOU..."...the who cares girl..." blog. YOU YOU YOU.
I got a fake tan today, and I smell like a fake tan. I just ate the last of my ice cream...I promised myself NO MORE ICE CREAM before the wedding (two weeks--Jesus Christ). I'm watching "The Exorcist". I'm leaving threatening voicemails to Merri about the fact that SHE HASN'T MOVED ANY OF HER SHIT OUT YET. Since I have had my apartment, I have had to forcibly remove two people, about to be three (hi Corinne!). Why won't people just fuck off when I want them to? Hmmm?
The Boy has this weird "head massager" made out of wire and shaped like an octopus. He found it last night in a box of stuff I was going to move over to my apartment, and told me confidently that "...this would be fun to roll with". I told him confidently that it would just confuse him (considering last time we rolled it took him three hours to go to the bathroom).
Yesterday on Youtube I found myself being entertained by this crazy drag queen for a while. I found "Sharaloid" quite by accident when I was watching one of my favorite Youtube "music videos"--Crazy Preacher Lady. Every time I watch Crazy Preacher Lady my heart swells with joy and I laugh hysterically and I sing that song for the rest of the day. The Boy doesn't find humor in that video AT ALL, so I'm sure there must be something wrong with him. It's perfect. PERFECT!
Yesterday morning I made a video at my apartment of me sneaking into Corinne's bedroom and waking her up by screaming HIIIIII!!! at the top of my lungs and then launching into "Good morning merry sunshine", but her response was merely to moan and pull the covers over her head, which doesn't make for a very exciting video. Also, considering it takes AN HOUR for a 2 minute video on Youtube to upload, I have to seriously consider every video I submit. Why does it take so long? I blame my shoddy Dell laptop.
Today I am going to call Merry (at a reasonable hour--only a maniac like myself is up this early) to tell her that she needs to move all of her shit out this weekend (I'll even offer to help). Then I'm going to exercise and get a fake tan.
Yesterday I went to the M.A.C. counter to purchase some wedding eye make-up. Unfortunately, I picked the worst possible fucking day to go to Nordstroms because they were having a huge sale. Do ya think that "sale" trickled down to the M.A.C. counter? Not for anything I bought. I told the salesgirl that I would try out the make-up on my own and possibly come back at a later date so someone could give me some "pointers". Apparently if you want a "consultation" at M.A.C. it's free during weekdays, which is gooood. I might play with my new make-up later on, we'll see. I let myself be talked into an eyeshadow palette, eyeliner cream, false eyelashes and a lipstick. Oh, and an eyeliner brush. Good God.
Friday, July 18, 2008
The Boy informed me last night while watching my "how to apply false eyelashes" video that my voice sounds "different" on film.
"Different how?" I asked.
"Deeper." he said.
Well, I suppose I was trying to be "serious". I didn't watch anyone else's "how to apply false eyelashes" videos beforehand, I just went with what my years of knowledge have taught me. In hindsight now I kind of wish I had worn some make-up, but, eh.
The Boy seems a little embarrassed that I am shamelessly making videos of myself (and Ken the neighbor, and Maggie) and placing them on Youtube for all the world to see. I assured him that my "real name" is nowhere visible. When that didn't work to appease him, I shouted at him that he's JUST JEALOUS.
"You wish you could stay home and make videos and hang out with Maggie all day!"
"SO?" he replied.
Mmm, my smoker's cough is really juicy this morning. I am now a "preferred customer" at the gas station where I buy my vanilla ciggies--they give me a discount when I buy them, because I am the only one who buys these particular cigarettes. I should be ashamed that I am a preferred customer, but instead, I'm pleased.
Yesterday morning Corinne called to me to warn me that if I was coming over to the apartment, I should knock before entering her bedroom (instead of bursting in and screeching HI!!! at the top of my lungs like I usually do). I arrived at the apartment yesterday and could hear unmistakable moans coming from the bedroom. I quickly left to do my workout--figuring 30 or 40 minutes would be enough time for Corinne to....well, whatever.
When I came back Corinne was buzzing around in the kitchen, washing dishes (!), smiling and humming and happier than I've seen her in...decades.
"Did you have Full Release?" I smirked.
"YES!" she said happily. She's had an online "boyfriend" for over 6 months now and apparently they do everything except actually touch eachother in real life, because, well, he lives in New York. I'm just jealous--I still haven't had an orgasm on Paxil. I figure after the wedding, I'm going to start tapering off of it. Because a life without orgasms just stinks.
My "how-to" video on the important skill of applying false eyelashes. I forgot to mention that generally eyelashes need to be trimmed before applying them--WHOOPS!
Another impromptu video I made yesterday--putting the Boy's neighbor Ken on the spot by asking him to tell me about the last movie he watched.
Impromptu video I made yesterday. Maggie and I are playing fetch and then...a surprise!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
It's a hairnado!
Those "haul away your junk" guys certainly are crafty. They don't quote you any kind of price over the phone, they wait until they show up at your place, survey your crap, and then give you a price. Now, I had told the Boy yesterday morning that if it cost over 100 bucks, I wouldn't do it, but once they showed up and told me it was 200 bucks, what did I do? Agreed, of course. To make matters more irritating, one of the guys gave me a coupon for 20 bucks off but wouldn't let me use it. After he left I wished that I had argued with him, but meh. Sometimes I am just too passive for my own good.
I suppose the bright side is that now the couch, loveseat, recliner, and hideous old crusty dresser are all out of the Boy's living room. The "big items" that we have to move now are my fabulous bed, and his futon frame, which we are giving to Corinne. She's been sleeping on just the futon mattress for quite awhile. The frame is wooden and heavy and awkward to move--and even with the seats down it doesn't fit into my car, which is a shame.
I need to go to a liquor store today and purchase a "banquet permit" so we can serve booze at the wedding. It's just going to be beer and wine--no hard liquor. Oh, I think maybe I gave the okay for champagne, I don't remember. Now that I am past 6 months of sobriety I'm not at all concerned that booze at my wedding might "trigger" me--I see my neighbor Tamara frequently and 99% of the time she's drinking (all times of day, really) and it doesn't bother me at all. Most of the time, I just feel sorry for her.
Yesterday as I was packing up some of the Boy's photos I found pictures of his first wedding, and to my horror, I noticed that his ex-wife was wearing a floral wreath in her hair. Now granted, my wreath is about 10,000 times more fabulous, but ugh, how did I not notice that before? Also, he has a lot of pictures of his ex-wife. I told him last night, cheerfully, that he should "burn them".
"What about all your pictures?" he said defensively.
Oh sure, I have a billion pictures from the Nico Days, but they are almost entirely saved on disks because once the digital camera came into my life, the number of "hard copies" of photos disappeared almost entirely. Anyway, most of the billion pictures from the Nico Days are self-portraits of me and my chubby mid-20's face. Nico hated having his picture taken.
I noticed him pick up the box of photos that I had scrawled his ex-wife's name on (I had also added an ugly face) and place them aside this morning. "I'll go through these." he said.
"You don't have to burn them..." I offered sweetly.
"GOOD." he said.
Burning is a little dramatic. We don't have to "burn" our past, do we? Well? I have been thinking about erasing all of the photos from back in 2003 when I got fat from a diet of beer and cheese, but I haven't made up my mind yet. Mostly I'm just too lazy to bother.
This morning I'm going to finish watching "Magnolia", which I started last night. It's a three hour long movie, which requires some dedication on my part. I've seen it before, but I didn't remember anything about it. Tom Cruise's hyponasal voice drives me absolutely nuts. I don't know if this is because I'm a speech therapist, so I am hyper-attuned to that sort of thing, or what.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Boy came home from work just now as I was uploading self-portraits that I took this afternoon.
"Couldn't resist, could you," he smirked.
Assuming he was talking about taking self-portraits, I said, "Well...I was bored."
"Did you use my card?"
Now I was confused. It took me a moment to realize he was talking about the lemon shirt in the photo. "No, uh...um...oh! No, this is an old shirt."
I bought that lemon bathing suit top about a million years ago. I brought it over to his place from my apartment a week or so ago, when I thought we were going camping. Camping + lemon bathing suit top = Happiness. It's been sitting in his bedroom IN PLAIN VIEW for over a week, and he didn't even notice. How sweet.
I watched "Barton Fink" today. My mother I differ in opinion when it comes to the best Coen movie--her favorite (in fact, her favorite movie PERIOD) is "Raising Arizona", and my favorite Coen movie is "The Big Lebowski", a film I have seen so many times I'm sure I must have it memorized (side note: there is an actual "Dude"). Anyway, my mother always told me never to watch "Barton Fink" ("It's horrible," she has said numerous times), so that means I wanted to watch it. Again. I've already seen it once, but I have a terrible memory. What's the big deal? "Barton Fink" is not that bad. Not compared to "The Hudsucker Proxy", which I've tried to watch twice now but simply cannot get past Jennifer Jason Leigh's horrible accent.
It's not quite 6 o'clock, and I have already smoked an entire pack of vanilla ciggies today. I smoke more now that I'm unemployed. Gross. Groooooooossssssssss.
Yesterday's Dumb Blonde Move (not that I enjoy perpetuating that particular stereotype, but eh): I was placing duct tape on a box and it became twisted, so I put one end in my mouth and used both hands to untwist the tape. When I went to take the tape out of my mouth, it had glommed onto my lower lip, and because my lips are generally dry and flaky, the tape took chunks of lip off with it! Hooray! Hurrah! My lip began bleeding immediately, and today it is painful. Moron.
As the Craigslist ad I took out is proving to be unfruitful, I hired a "junk removal" service to come over to the Boy's apartment today and remove the heavy stuff--sofa, loveseat, and recliner--all chewed up from Maggie during the puppy days. Whenever I moan and groan about wanting a second dog, I really need to remember how shitty the puppy days were. Puppies are just like babies--you have to get up 8 times during the night to take them out to pee, and they get into everything. Not that I know anything about babies, but I'm assuming babies get into everything. Also, having one dog never fully prepares you for another--Luna may have destroyed several pairs of shoes, but Maggie has a penchant for chewing on paper. She actually ate a 10 dollar bill one time.
The Boy told me last night that he is impressed with how gung-ho I've been about moving his shit over to my apartment. Well, why not? I go over there every day to work out anyway, and besides, I'd rather move a small amount of things many days in a row than a whole bunch of shit in one day. At this point also Merry still hasn't moved any of her stuff out, and we still have Corinne to contend with. Sigh. The Boy keeps thinking that we will eventually "crowd" Corinne out with all the boxes, but I think maybe he overestimates how much Corinne cares. I had moved maybe 9 boxes into the living room last week and she hadn't even noticed their presence.
I finally took a shower last night and 75% of my "tan" washed down the drain. Heigh ho. It was cute while it lasted.
