First things first! I just came from a lovely, lovely visit at the eye doctor. Dr. Simmons, as we shall refer to him in his own right, was a smashing host to my new-contacts-and-prescription brigade. We had a lovely time - he told me that all my friends will get married and not come to my wedding when I have one, and then he said that he should have never helped anyone move when he was in college, because they never reciprocated. I completely agree. There have been many a time when I have helped buggers move, and have they helped me? No no no! With the exception of one Jamie Crone. Good advice, if you ask me. Unfortunately, the advice cost me $210.57, and an extra $75 if I need a toric lens.
To Lord of the Fries: I am Violet. I am butt-fucking Violet Beauregard. How, how, HOW fantastic. I kind of wanted to be Veruca Salt, but nooooo. I answered that I liked gum, and look where it got me. But hell - something smells like mashed potatoes, so let's forget all about this riff-raff! Mmmm!
I'll admit this, and I'll admit this fast. Eliza and I went through what we might call... a Dave Matthews phase. Yes, yes I know. I KNOW. Eliza probably won't admit it, but I heard that song "Stay" last night on my poot-poot back from Cochiti Lake (aka - Land of Good & Plenty), and I thought of Eliza trying, in vain, to get Dave Matthews Band tickets one morning our freshman year. Pffffff! It is sooo amusing in retrospect, it really is. Speaking of phases, and twelve step programs, I had a big WomenCentral at MSN phase, which was absolutely horrific, but I did it, and it was stupid stupid stupid. Anyway, I would go to the pregnancy & hard-to-conceive/infertile boards and post all sorts of nasty comments that would make people cry and, subsequently, hate me because I thought they were pieces of leftover sewage for wanting & having babies (I'm not this mean anymore, people. Don't judge, don't judge). Then I switched to some hair/glamour/style thing and once said that I had a friend that used color-remover from her hair and it looked bad afterward, and I was talking about Eliza, and she read it and I felt awful, awful, awful. Just plumb awful. I'm sorry, Eliza! I'm sooorrryryyyryryryrrryyyy! The funny thing is that after a while of posting on the hair/fashion board, someone was like, "Weren't you that nasty snatch on the barren board?" And then I was ostracized again, thus leading to the tragic end of a tragic career on tragic WomenCentral.
The Big I's birthday was actually about a weekend long stretch, considering that on Friday we ate out, and then Saturday, we ate in like 9 year-olds havin' a b-day bash, y'all! It's the Rock n' Jock b-ball jam, y'all! Wooo! Ahhh my sarcasm, it delights me... and frightens me. But it was fun, and we watched Igby Goes Down - which was a really good movie. I was quite impressed with crazy Amanda Peet and her drug-induced state. Classic, classic.
Ludie called in sick today, that lying bugger. We all know she's not "throwing up" - or if she is, she's throwing up last night's whiskey sour. I don't know why they haven't posted her & Starbucks' Gabe in their graduation gowns on the Bookstore page, but hell. We'll all wait with baited breath.
I'm sorry in advance to any & all who take offense, but I think I'm starting to enjoy the White Stripes very much, thank you. That's all I'm gonna say, except for the fact that yes, the title of this entry is a lyric from that damn catchy "Fell in Love with a Girl." And now... (bah bah buuuhhhhhh!) I'm off to research Foucault's Archaeology of Knowledge, aren't you glad you're not me. (It's at this time that I freak out and think that I should become a doctor again, god save the queen). And as a final note to Joey Joe Junior Shabadoo - you are fuckin' butt ignorant. You hear me? FBI!