up in heayah

yes, I wear turquoiseNo more “Redemption Song,” I beg of you.

Joke of the day:

Didjaknow Jesus doesn’t love you? He LIKES you, he just doesn’t like like you.

Well, it was bound to happen. The ole’ high school sweetheart is getting married. Unreal. UNREAL. Well, or maybe not. I’m almost surprised I didn’t find out about this sooner, maybe if I kept in touch with him or anyone else from that era I would have known. Oh well. Good for him. (Even if he has only had 2 real girlfriends in his whole life, and I feel like that’s kind of sad. ) Does this mean I’m the only real ex? I’m the only person the bride has to hate and make snide comments about?!? That’s kind of funny. And I cave; willingly hand over the crown. He has won the great “Who’s Going to Get married First” game. Awww, D. Wasn’t it just yesterday we were driving around in your red Escort singing to Peter Gabriel? I guess not.

It still makes me nostalgic, it’s like my childhood has been held down with brute strength, squeezed into a wedding gown, and forced to play grown-up. Like my girlfriends getting married and pushing out babies weren’t bad enough to begin with.

They even have a website. You go, boy!

Goddamn, people. The real world is rigged.

Other, and Much More Importantly:

I love presents. No, I’m not getting married. No, it’s not my birthday and this isn’t a housewarming thing. I just WANT stuff. I could lie to you and tell you it was my birthday, but I won’t. Because you love me, you should buy me things. Lots of things. Pretty and nifty and much needed things. Pity me; I have no money. Anytime is nice, I love surprises:

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/wishlist/ref=nwl_gateway/103-3841679-9692614

Also, I want a belt buckle:

http://www.bucklesofestes.com/hesston.htm

I really want the Heston 2000 National Rodeo Finals one; if any of you are willing to “rustle me up one.” Ha! Ha ha. I would wear it all the time. I would etch your name in the back if you bought it for me, and then a little part of you would be resting at my stomach all the live long day.

This Weekend:

I went out with my ol’ bud Steph and we got margaritas on Friday night. News from the Steph front: she is home shopping. She has the nesting instinct! Don’t buy a house, dodo. Just learn to crochet.

Then the College Group went out on Saturday night. It is always amusing when those people decide to go out. A lot of amusingness. Yeah, that’s definitely not a real word. “You people have absolutely no sense of decorum, do you?” We also went to IHOP at 3 am and then traveled the Beltway for an hour or two.

Nope. No decorum up in heayah. Not a shred. I gave up on decorum years ago.

Sunday I watched “Miss Congeniality,” and it sucked, shocker. My mother liked it because she said “it’s you all over.”

My mother is comparing me to Sandra Bullock? “No, just the character.”

My mother is comparing me to a hopeless, graceless, rude slob. Well, okay. I can handle that.

Sig Other came back Sn. Night with his cool videos of Icelandic nature and shining sun at 11 pm. He also brought back a super-warm Icelandic wool sweater, a book of Icelandic artists work (written in Icelandic and English) and Icelandic body lotion made from the algae in the lagoons. All for his sweetie! (that’s me.) It smells like coal and snow and nature. He is such a good boy. Such a good man.

Blah, this was boring, sorry. I will be my charming self tomorrer.

New affectation: Talking to myself and addressing myself as “pet.”

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