pop the cheap champagne, we're going down in flames.
i think this is going to be a bit of a rant post.
i'm sorry.
and for the record,
the little red x fucker has resurrected himself
and has since been very well behaved,
i think he's learned his lesson.
but due to this, i cannot force you to stay here
and listen to me ramble on about things i don't really take a liking to.
(and there you go... i think half of my readers disappeared after ending up on my page and thinking:
"shit, i accidentally clicked on this page again....fuck. i forgot how much i hate reading this.... but now i can't click out so i have to read it, i guess.... wait, wait, she said the red x is back. i'm outta here.")
byebye half of my readers....
which leaves the grand total of:
(drum roll please)
me.
awesome.
well,
i was sitting at a starbucks today with some people including
hotoff_thepress.
and someone mentioned peeps.
(see figure 1.1 which is in the first comment, made by me, because fucking lj is being retarded. and even thought i see the picture on my edit screen, it doesn't show up in the post. shitfuck.)
you know, the little marshmellow things covered on colored sugar that are supposed to resemble a chick or bunny.
yeah, well apparently this chick (not ,
hotoff_thepress to clarify, just some random chick) was craving some and it got me thinking about how much i really hate those things.
every easter my mom buys a ton of them.
and every easter anne tries one thinking she might like it this time.
but anne never does.
ever.
they make me want to throw up everything i've ever eaten my entire life.
it's so bad that i have the taste of them repressed in my memory.
i couldn't even begin to describe for you what they taste like to me because i don't know/remember/care to remember.
& you know what?
this coming easter, i'm not going to try one. i'm going to rebel.
because that's what i do. it's in my blood.
riiiight.
but you know what? that's probably a lie.
i will try one.
and i will hate it.
and then days following,
i will carry a burning & passionate hate for all peeps great and small
and purposefully take some of them and put them underneath my car wheel and drive over them.
probably.
side note:
after having to look online to find a picture of a single peep,
which was harder then you'd think,
i saw all these things that people do to peeps.
it was really funny. you should look it up.
in fact, i'll link it for you:
here.
there's some really funny pictures.
well, i laughed anyway.
but in a related story,
i am a fucking idiot.
also, on my drive to nashville after sitting at starbucks for a little while,
there was a car on fire.
and that's another thing i'd probably hate no matter how many times i tried it.
i mean, seriously.
unless, of course, i was in some action movie where the stunt double of the hot lead actress (my stunt double) flips three times and then her car burst into flames while she's trapped inside.
cut to me, the hot lead actress, struggling with the seat belt to try to get free. but wait! there's a small child in the back!
(i know what you're thinking: anne? children? they don't get along... but this is a movie, folks. deal.)
cut back out to the entire view of the car from the outside as the gasoline starts to drip out of the tank and... oh no! it's puddling under the flames! it's just a matter of time before the entire roadside explodes leaving nothing but ashes of the overly-cute child actor and myself.
cut back inside the car: i'm crying. and probably screaming, because that's what the director said he wanted.
(for a fact, i know i'd never scream when trapped in any dire or panic-y situation*)
pan out to the hot business man who has stopped to help. who is he? oh my god, it's hot lead actress' love interest! what's he doing here? his meeting ran late? he saw my car flip? he's here to save the day? that's right, m'dears. he's here to save the love interest and overly-cute child actor! and he does.
then he cradles the love interest (yep, that's me!) and takes her home to her bed.
she wakes up in the morning to smell bacon and eggs cooking in the kitchen.
then he brings them to her and get down on one knee.
what?! he's going to propose? but he can't. they've only known each other for approx. 97 minutes! but he does. and she says yes. and they kiss.
cut to credits. and then, but only then, would i ever like my car to be on fire.
and that's just because i'd get a paycheck for more than "overly-cute child actor" is worth.
another thing i really hate is my middle name.
i'm not going to tell it to you, because i really do hate it just that much.
but it's my mom's maiden name.
yep, that's right, darlings,
my mother's former last name (which wasn't anything remotely normal) is my middle name.
good gracious.
you know what i'd really like my middle name to be?
motherfucker.
annemotherfucker(insert last name here).
and then when people asked my middle name i could pretty much call them a motherfucker with their permission.
randompersononlyusedforthisoneinstance: hey anne, what's your middle name?
me: motherfucker
randompersononlyusedforthisoneinstance: why'd you call me that?
me: uh, that's my real name, motherfucker.
randompersononlyusedforthisoneinstance: ok, you never told me your middle name, but will you please quit calling me motherfucker?
i pull out my license.
randompersononlyusedforthisoneinstance: shit, that's awesome.
me: yeah it is. i have awesome parents.
but unfortunately, that's not the case.
and i don't just mean that in relation to the middle name.
you know what else really grinds my gears?
(yes, i've made that reference before, you aren't having deja vu.)
when i'm on facebook.com,
(yes, i'm on myspace and facebook. so shoot me. you're on livejournal and therefore, have no room to talk.)
and i get requests from people/high school "friends" i haven't talked to in years.
to be perfectly honest, they're probably/always people i put up with in high school and probably/definitely loathed with all my soul.
and that's putting it nicely.
why do i hate that?
oh i don't know... maybe you can figure out that one, genius.
and last but not least,
i hate it when you see someone with a really expensive purse that's unbearably ugly.
i just think to myself:
"you know, the money you spent on that god awful thing that wasn't ever in style, isn't in style now, and won't ever be in style would have gone to much greater use if you'd have flushed the bills down the toilet. in fact, you could've given it to me and i could've bought a much more bearable designer purse for that amount and you wouldn't be stared at while walking around in society."
also, i really hate that "my humps" song by the black eyed peas, but for some weird reason, i think that goes without saying.
*=from my experience with car wrecks (that i didn't cause) and other really frightening experiences, i don't panic.
i get really really calm, unlike the majority of people out there. it's extremely weird.
for example,
in my first car wreck, i was riding passenger and we ran into a concrete barrier.
(for the record, there wasn't drugs or alcohol involved, it was just pure inexperience and distraction and probably a bit of fatigue....
we were coming home from a concert.)
well, we hit this barrier going about 60 mph and once the dust settles, i look over at my friend who was driving and she's freaking out. i look at the three people in the backseat and they are also freaking out. me? i'm calm as a lake at dawn. it was so weird. i got out of the car. and instructed my friends to do the same. i called 911 and all the parents. i examined everyone and told 911 we'd probably need an ambulance... the guys in the back weren't wearing their seatbelts. and i never cried. i never got panic-y. i was completely numb and calm. it was strange.
the next day, my neck was bothering me so mom took me to the doctor and turns out i had a broken collarbone.
eh. it's a good talent to have, i guess.
maybe it's another useless xmen power that i can claim:
being able to stay completely calm, rational, and numb in times of dire emergency.
awesome.