Ew, sick, that chick on the next Intervention refuses to eat anything except through a feeding tube. Wow. That's disgusting, and sad. But mostly disgusting.
And, of course, Michael Jackson died. Everytime I think of it, I say to myself "You're Michael Fucking Jackson, you're not supposed to DIE!" I'm still really in disbelief. Gave me a good reason to break out the old "Don't Stop Til Ya Get Enough," though.
Right about now, I could use one of two things. A vacation, or an unhealthy addiction to pain killers. (What? They make me happy and carefree) Seeing as I don't have the access to either of these things, I suppose I'm just going to keep chugging along with what I'm doing.
Now that we've officially entered the mid-Atlantic season of HELL, I am inclined to hate Virginia even more. It's hot and bloody humid outside. It turns my hair into frizz and my skin into oil slick. It makes me feel dirty and gross. And it brings out all the fucking bugs that this awful place has to offer. An army of spiders is holding my patio hostage. This place is disgusting and I don't understand why anybody would live here on their own free will.
Ok, I have tummy problems. And by problems, I mean every so often my stomach just says "Meh. Not feelin it," and decides not to digest anything for a few days. Then I'd end up feeling fat and slow, and wouldn't eat. This stuff fixed that issue right up.
2. Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea.
That broad is right up my alley. Cynical and hilarious.
3. Chocolate Chex
4. Dove Energy Glow lotion
Gives my pasty ass some color, without oompa loompa spots. Sorry, I just can't go au naturale. You know those people who have pale skin that's naturally creamy or has nice olive undertones? That's not me. I thank my German and Welsh ancestors and a red-haired dad for my translucent pink paleness.
5. The Black Keys and Metro Station
Two very different sounds, but both very pleasing to thine ears. [Black Keys are bluesy classic rock sounding; Metro Station is dancy pop sugar.]
Yep, all good stuff. I went on a self-gifting spree this week, for reasons unknown. I still haven't got my damned stimulus check, so it's surely not due to feeling monily endowed. I think I was just bored.
I ordered clearance clothes from Hollister (yes, I'm cheap when it comes to myself), a Callahan Auto Parts t-shirt (if you don't get it, you suck), and the latest Muse live CD/DVD (FREAKING ROCKS!).
So I'm basically getting one package in the mail per day, and that's something everyone loves receiving. "Oooh presents!" Bottom line is, I very rarely buy things for myself, so when I do it, I do it all at one time and basically make a holiday out of it. It makes me more humble.... like the way I get excited about the new loofah and tweezers I bought myself.
Last night I colored my hair MYSELF and it turned out fabulous, for the first time ever.
The thing I really went nuts on was ordering a whole bunch of home decor for the apartment. I love decorating, and don't know why I let our apartment go so naked for so long. I guess I was waiting until we got somewhere more permanent, and someplace we actually like. Then I realized, once we move somewhere more permenent that we actually like (Oregon), we will be poor college students, scraping by on top ramen and Pabst Blue Ribbon. So I might as well buy the decor now.
And I actually teared up when I saw the news story about that hurt horse in the Kentucky Derby. So sad, poor girl. I think it's pretty much an awful sport - they race the holy hell out of those horses, then immediately euthanize the animal when it gets an injury. I guess I don't really know how horses work.... but I know that if my cat broke its leg, I'd get a cast put on it and let it heal. Not take him out back too meet the Winchester. Not cool.
1. Forgetting Sarah Marshall
2. Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay
Let me just say, the south has a lot of very interesting sights. None of them thusfar have been great... but odd nonetheless. I had never really experienced WalMart before joining the military and being sent to the south (WalMarts are few and far between in the Northwest. And sidenote: I MISS FRED MEYER.) I refer to a trip to the store as "white trash on parade." I'm not a fan of the place, but what can I say - we're living on military paychecks, and their prices are cheap as shit. BUT THIS ---- found this fabulous little number on my last trip:
No, I didn't buy it. What the fuck is grape drink? According to Dave Chappell, it consists of "water and purple." This is ghetto. This is the kind of wonderous products you cannot find in Oregon. I should've looked at the ingredients.
Today when I drove into my apartment complex parking lot, I saw an old man on a bicycle that looked just like Karl Laugerfeld. The foreign designer that always wears sunglasses and looks like a weathered purse. What are the odds?
As you may or may not know, I work the graveyard shift, so I'm up all night. I was standing on the porch smoking around 3:30am - it's normally stoic silence outside. Then a van pulled up and a woman got out to throw newspapers onto porches. She was a large black woman, and was shouting obscenities over her cell-phone while she was slinging papers. I was like damn, don't get in her way or she'll kill your ass. She came over to my apartments as I was putting my cigarette out and walking inside. She was still shouting at somebody over the phone, but when she saw me, she pulled the phone away, flashed the sweetest smile, and said "Good morning!" I said hi, then she kept walking and went back to shouting.
She just may be my new hero.