I fucking loathe text messaging.
yes. its fine when you think of something funny in your head and you just KNOOOWW someone would die laughing if they read it in a text.
but i personally feel as if the world would be a far better, more enriched place if it were not for texting.
ever since the phenomena that is typing on miniature keyboards, the world has become far more impersonal. there's nothing i hate more than being with someone who's constantly checking their phone or texting while they're in your company.
its called manners. they've existed since maybe not jesus time (Cause those fuckers were crazy) but like i would say more or less the french rev. nothing says "i couldn't care less about your existence in my presence right now" than someone whipping out their phone sliding it open (you know those phones) and tapping away like its nobody's business (literally).
what happened to people picking up a phone and dialing some numbers. it's a lot less work that writing an entire gospel of words. and i'm sorry. but unless i want to fuck a robot. which personally, i don't (seriously). i don't get the point of sexy text messages? unless you wanna feel like you're banging the scary radiohead voice from kid a (now that shit is hot.)
most of all. how am i supposed to type with my ghetto fab fingernails with hello kitty airbrused on them? i don't want to look like the cashier at the kmart in virginia beach when you were 10 that you still remember now and you were and still are thinking "wuhthefuhhhhhhhh"
so to recap: 1) i dislike text messaging.
2) i enjoy the undivided attention of people i force into my company at
gunpoint
3) my LONG ASS fingernails have pictures of hello kitty on them.
4) haha. that caps lock "long ass" was way unintentional but so awesome.
5) WUHTHEFUHHHHHHHHHHH.
Ever so pissed.
(i am so tempted to auto-correct every "texting" in this post to "textile". so everyone will be like "she hates textiles? now what's wrong with textiles?". I'LL TELL YOU WHAT'S WRONG WITH TEXTILES!!!!!!)
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Fernando
is a sex fiend. just kidding.
fernando is the man with whom my father is having an affair.
or so i tell my mother.
this all stems from the fact: my father is an avid golfer.
summertime consists of my mom being home and loud (as per usual) and my dad going golfing at any chance he gets.
hence. the birth of Fernando, the Guatemalan sex pot.
so it goes like this: SCENE- Kitchen
me: "where's papa?"
nina: "golfing..."
me: "oh, golfing eh?"
...
then i go on to sing the song "fernando" by abba in its entirety.
ps. my voice sounds like the angels and saints in heaven having an orgy, that of which produces the birth of the demi-saintgod that is my voice. its THAT good.
pps. my parents ask me to move out every other week.
fernando is the man with whom my father is having an affair.
or so i tell my mother.
this all stems from the fact: my father is an avid golfer.
summertime consists of my mom being home and loud (as per usual) and my dad going golfing at any chance he gets.
hence. the birth of Fernando, the Guatemalan sex pot.
so it goes like this: SCENE- Kitchen
me: "where's papa?"
nina: "golfing..."
me: "oh, golfing eh?"
...
then i go on to sing the song "fernando" by abba in its entirety.
ps. my voice sounds like the angels and saints in heaven having an orgy, that of which produces the birth of the demi-saintgod that is my voice. its THAT good.
pps. my parents ask me to move out every other week.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
future aspirations
1) to become a saint
yes yes. god knows i have the mouth of a truck driver, however i've devised a plan. eventually, i'll become a nun or something, move to a third world country and start selflessly helping the poor. maybe. worse comes to worst, everyone knows the roman catholic church is corrupt, so in that case, i guess i can blow my way into the hearts of the clergy.(you've always gotta have a plan B when it comes to entering saintdom) Although i never stopped to think that the reality of me not being a prepubescent male may serve as off-putting.
2) Open a small business in a local italian neighborhood.
two businesses actually. a halloween costume store to suit your every halloween costume need. i'm gunna call it Vaffangouls and Goblins (appropriately so.) the other's gunna be a jewellery store (cause i gotta keep it ballin') and i'm going to call that "Vaffanjewels and Diamonds". They'll be the most b.a. stores to ever surface the asscheek that is the small italian burrow.
3) to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast at Disney World.
I hate kids. and i'm as bubbly as a bottle of vintage merlot. but i have this determination to push young children to the ground at every opportunity i get. I dont know what it is. you know those toddlers that they're abnormally small and round for some reason. and you just see them dragging themselves around all pudgesters. i always imagined pushing them over with my foot (on a carpeted area cause any other surface would make me cruel) and watch them fall to the ground but i imagine them rolling kinda back and forth like a olden time rocking chair. I think it would be the single most hilarious thing in life to see. of course i'd be fired immediately. but like whatever. who needs disney land when you own a store called Vaffanjewels and Diamonds. (which totally rapes DW in legitness).
yes yes. god knows i have the mouth of a truck driver, however i've devised a plan. eventually, i'll become a nun or something, move to a third world country and start selflessly helping the poor. maybe. worse comes to worst, everyone knows the roman catholic church is corrupt, so in that case, i guess i can blow my way into the hearts of the clergy.(you've always gotta have a plan B when it comes to entering saintdom) Although i never stopped to think that the reality of me not being a prepubescent male may serve as off-putting.
2) Open a small business in a local italian neighborhood.
two businesses actually. a halloween costume store to suit your every halloween costume need. i'm gunna call it Vaffangouls and Goblins (appropriately so.) the other's gunna be a jewellery store (cause i gotta keep it ballin') and i'm going to call that "Vaffanjewels and Diamonds". They'll be the most b.a. stores to ever surface the asscheek that is the small italian burrow.
3) to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast at Disney World.
I hate kids. and i'm as bubbly as a bottle of vintage merlot. but i have this determination to push young children to the ground at every opportunity i get. I dont know what it is. you know those toddlers that they're abnormally small and round for some reason. and you just see them dragging themselves around all pudgesters. i always imagined pushing them over with my foot (on a carpeted area cause any other surface would make me cruel) and watch them fall to the ground but i imagine them rolling kinda back and forth like a olden time rocking chair. I think it would be the single most hilarious thing in life to see. of course i'd be fired immediately. but like whatever. who needs disney land when you own a store called Vaffanjewels and Diamonds. (which totally rapes DW in legitness).
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
1) history class in fg building (aka. place bourassa 2.0). its an old building so the seats are all effed. to add to the effdness of the seats the class is like on a forward slant so when you sit in a seat it feels like your leaning forward (or as i said to the random person next to me "doesnt it feel like we're at the waterslides?!?!?!") so the seats are all fucked and like the hinges are screwed cause the building is like a bazillion years old. so my point is. i sit down and i go FLYING onto the lap of this asian guy sitting next to me (he looks like anyong) and he starts laughing all crazy. i immediately get up and change seat. (but you know i secretly wanted to shake my shit all over his shit)
2) i'm sleeping on the 8th floor. someone kicks me. i dont know who it is. but they kicked me. (but i guess its better than waking up on the 8th floor with a surprise janitor holding a knife to your throat asking you where you hid the pirate treasure)
3) i get to my last class at 6 (after a 7 hour break). the class is empty so i pick any seat i want. the guy who sits in front of me is deaf. his interpreter sits next to him. oh. but he doesnt speak sign language. for 2 hours, the interpreter is repeating every word the prof says. whispering loudly while the deaf man stares at her. I was especially livid when i noticed the mother fucker checking his facebook via his iphone whilst his interpreter continue to blow hot air out her mouth. regardless, i spent the next 2 hours blocking my left ear with one hand while frantically taking notes with the other.
at least i know how the deaf guy feels kind of.
and at least no homeless guys touched me throughout the course of the day.
2) i'm sleeping on the 8th floor. someone kicks me. i dont know who it is. but they kicked me. (but i guess its better than waking up on the 8th floor with a surprise janitor holding a knife to your throat asking you where you hid the pirate treasure)
3) i get to my last class at 6 (after a 7 hour break). the class is empty so i pick any seat i want. the guy who sits in front of me is deaf. his interpreter sits next to him. oh. but he doesnt speak sign language. for 2 hours, the interpreter is repeating every word the prof says. whispering loudly while the deaf man stares at her. I was especially livid when i noticed the mother fucker checking his facebook via his iphone whilst his interpreter continue to blow hot air out her mouth. regardless, i spent the next 2 hours blocking my left ear with one hand while frantically taking notes with the other.
at least i know how the deaf guy feels kind of.
and at least no homeless guys touched me throughout the course of the day.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
melissa snoodle
dis-en-chant verb: to rid of or free from enchantment, illusion, credulity, etc.; disillusion.
Not a day goes by that i don't thank the spiritual forces for making me unconventionally pretty. because being fugs and overweight most of my life allowed me to develop a little something called a personality. now with this makes it so that in 20 years from now, when the greys and wrinkles set in, it'll be okay since i'm already use to being like MEH. HOWEVER. someone who's gorgeous will go fucking crazy- case in point: "the real housewives of...", paula abdul, lassie, etc. Its like. what do you have when you're an older woman and you're not fucking catherine zeta-jones? fake tits and annoyingness? that's no fun. so therefore. I win.
Over the past 21 years, i've analyzed and studied every single thing that happens around me, and i mean everything. Essentially, i have the worst luck ever. i'm insistant that in a past life i had been some psychotic napoleon-type who ran through towns chopping off heads with saws or partaking in bestiality-driven orgies. so here i am thinking i was a nazi who raped Black Stallion when i realized that maybe it isnt bad luck at all. There HAS to be a reason why all this weird stuff happens.
I am disenchanted. by everything. any sort of sexy illusion out there has knocked on my door in the form of a jehova's witness at 9 am on a saturday morning, forcing me out of bed to look out the tiny diamond shape hole in my door, where i proceed to run away from it thinking to myself "holy god, i hope they didnt see my shadow running away from my glass window door". and its really bad because you didnt bother to put your pants on so they probably saw EVERYTHING and are like dunking their heads in javex to rid themselves of the memories. but its okay cause i'm like "FUCK YOU AL PACINO in "the devil's advocate", you're not gunna fuck with me, no way man, fuck you!" Anyway, my point is. i have lost all faith in humanity. I've watched enough episodes of intervention to know how everyone is on fucking crystal meth (i'll focus on that reality when i decide to post something on how you prevent yourself from getting shit stolen from the trunk of your friend's car). So lets recap: i've come to the realization that i'm not in kansas anymore, toto. oh and i've accepted it, and now i'm going to have some fun.
enjoy.
Not a day goes by that i don't thank the spiritual forces for making me unconventionally pretty. because being fugs and overweight most of my life allowed me to develop a little something called a personality. now with this makes it so that in 20 years from now, when the greys and wrinkles set in, it'll be okay since i'm already use to being like MEH. HOWEVER. someone who's gorgeous will go fucking crazy- case in point: "the real housewives of...", paula abdul, lassie, etc. Its like. what do you have when you're an older woman and you're not fucking catherine zeta-jones? fake tits and annoyingness? that's no fun. so therefore. I win.
Over the past 21 years, i've analyzed and studied every single thing that happens around me, and i mean everything. Essentially, i have the worst luck ever. i'm insistant that in a past life i had been some psychotic napoleon-type who ran through towns chopping off heads with saws or partaking in bestiality-driven orgies. so here i am thinking i was a nazi who raped Black Stallion when i realized that maybe it isnt bad luck at all. There HAS to be a reason why all this weird stuff happens.
I am disenchanted. by everything. any sort of sexy illusion out there has knocked on my door in the form of a jehova's witness at 9 am on a saturday morning, forcing me out of bed to look out the tiny diamond shape hole in my door, where i proceed to run away from it thinking to myself "holy god, i hope they didnt see my shadow running away from my glass window door". and its really bad because you didnt bother to put your pants on so they probably saw EVERYTHING and are like dunking their heads in javex to rid themselves of the memories. but its okay cause i'm like "FUCK YOU AL PACINO in "the devil's advocate", you're not gunna fuck with me, no way man, fuck you!" Anyway, my point is. i have lost all faith in humanity. I've watched enough episodes of intervention to know how everyone is on fucking crystal meth (i'll focus on that reality when i decide to post something on how you prevent yourself from getting shit stolen from the trunk of your friend's car). So lets recap: i've come to the realization that i'm not in kansas anymore, toto. oh and i've accepted it, and now i'm going to have some fun.
enjoy.
kay how does this shit work
i am computer retarded. i specifically thought in my brain no girly colors since i secretly believe i'm a man (what i tell pre-teen boys on chatrooms). but alas. i find a way to get some sort of fuschia tint on my page. and the worst part is. i'm too lazy to change it so it stays ultimately proving my female gender to the masses. So i figured. i'm quick right. like with words and shit so i might as well put it to good use. over the internet DUH cause like people get famous by drinking their own piss and putting it on youtube right? (i'm not that b.a.). so actually i'd like to welcome everyone (or no one...most probably no one) to the wonderful world of incomplete sentences. hopefully one day, when you get over the fact that i'm not really a man. maybe we can be friends? close acquaintances? okay fine.
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