What are we going to do with me?

One of my facebook friends told me that she’s been dying of laughter at my posts lately so I’m looking back over some from the past few days:

My favorite thing about reality tv is seeing people who are complete disasters as human beings in loving, committed relationships. Like, “Wow, I’m glad to see this self-involved social nightmare has found someone to appreciate her penchant for starting bar fights, ignorance of appropriate vocal level by venue, and her poorly thought out attempts at body modifications.” It’s so great to believe in love.

-I inadvertently did some work tonight so if anyone needs simple, compound, complex, or compound complex sentence types explained to them in the next couple hours, I am your girl. (We can file this under: things I wished I’d known in high school, right next to “none of this matters” and “he’s just not that into you.”)

My mom: I’m going to KMart on my way back to get some jeggings! Would you like some jeggings?
Me: No, just some regular black ones would be fine.
My mom: Don’t you just want to say JEGGINGS?? What’s the matter with you?
#sheisaweirdo

-One day conversate and irregardless will be words and it will be because we all failed. #fears

-Dear Italian Woman hosting a cooking show, “panini” is already plural. I know that. You should know that. Turning the channel now. (It really wouldn’t bother me if she weren’t Italian and having her niece on saying “zia this” and “zia that”–zia is Italian for aunt.)

-Sometimes I wonder what kind of gay man I would be. Like, if I were a samesexer, would I find Lady Gaga innovative instead of insufferable?

-Nicole Kidman’s forehead reminds me of a Negro spiritual, as if it’s silently singing to itself, “I shall not be moved.”

-I want to give Natalie Portman a hug for Black Swan.
I want Natalie Portman to give me an apology for No Strings Attached.

 

 

I have nothing to say for myself.

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About J.

A former twentysomething with a head full of curls and heart full of questions wondering: when we get to nirvana, will there be food?
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One Response to What are we going to do with me?

  1. Pingback: On Friday, I told myself | Footsteps On Concrete

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