i'm only writing so that my account does not shut down
fist off: i apologize for all the random/boring reads (3 or so) i've last posted.
second: my weekend: oh what a weekend. a blur, really. friday was the ghetto of ghettos: a rave in 2006. yes, that's right, these things still exist. boyfriend's friend came in from philly to dj this rooftop party. when i first heard about it, i thought "rave? ok, maybe a drum and bass 'party', but not a rave". oh was i wrong. these little pacifier-biting, candy bracelet-wearing, JENCO JEANS and sun visor-sporting jungle hippies had traveled in time - 6 years later - to attend this sorry-excuse-of-a-party party. silly. sad. boring. hot. shady. my crew and i decided enough was enough after about 2 hours and headed back to the apartment of all apartments (my apartment) and made worthy the night deemed friday night. from scratch margaritas, avocado/cheese/crackers, a playlist that would put dj lohan to shame... we partied till the wee hours of the morning (6:30am or so) which leads me to...
third: my cousin's wedding was saturday morning. yes, morning. it was a 10am ceremony followed by a 12 noon brunch. he lives in cleveland, which makes for a 2 hour drive to attend this god-forsaken event. b/c i'm "living with my parents" for relative’s sake, my invitations are sometimes combined with my spawners. and when my mother tells me of these get-togethers, she inconveniently forgets to tell me some important detail, like "THIS WEDDING STARTS AT 10AM SO WE'LL HAVE TO LEAVE BY 730AM SATURDAY MORNING". you would think the planner of this wedding would take into consideration that 50% of the attendees are coming from out-of-state. you would think they would go with the traditional evening reception. WHO THE FUCK HAS A WEDDING BRUNCH RECEPTION!?!?!?! well fuck it, i didnt go. i couldnt go. i hadnt gone to bed when i made the dreaded 630am phone call to my father telling him i wouldnt be making the monkey-march to CLEVELAND. cleveland? CLEVELAND? FUCK CLEVELAND! i hate CLEVELAND. i LOATH CLEVELAND! i contribute my hostility of cleveland to the 1990-1995 thanksgivings and light-up nights i had to endure, my sarcastic, pronouncing 'o's as 'a's accent-mouthed cousins (i.e. instead of "scott" it is "scatt" and "water" is "waaaaader"), and the (remember those strange realistic dreams of sitting on a toilet so you, yes, let loose only to wake up with a wet bed?) yeah, and that. (in my defence, i was 11 and in a weird bed - actually it wasn't even a bed, it was a sleeping bag. so dont poke fun.) so fuck cleveland. and fuck everything that has to do with cleveland - including my bitch-ass cousin. he is significantly older than me - maybe 10 years. and i imagine a 10-year-old-their-elder boy doesnt take much to little cousin chicken legs: myself (we have his father to thank for the leg complex, if you remember). cousin was always a dick to me and has since never held a pleasant conversation and to that i say "fuck your wedding". im more than happy i did not go. even if i have to listen to my parents one more time about responsibility and maturity. i believe it's not that i didnt attend the wedding so much as i rsvp'd i would, and then last minute, didnt. nonetheless...
i'm too exhausted to write about forth and fifth. you'll have to wait for the second installment of "hell: what is it good for?"
second: my weekend: oh what a weekend. a blur, really. friday was the ghetto of ghettos: a rave in 2006. yes, that's right, these things still exist. boyfriend's friend came in from philly to dj this rooftop party. when i first heard about it, i thought "rave? ok, maybe a drum and bass 'party', but not a rave". oh was i wrong. these little pacifier-biting, candy bracelet-wearing, JENCO JEANS and sun visor-sporting jungle hippies had traveled in time - 6 years later - to attend this sorry-excuse-of-a-party party. silly. sad. boring. hot. shady. my crew and i decided enough was enough after about 2 hours and headed back to the apartment of all apartments (my apartment) and made worthy the night deemed friday night. from scratch margaritas, avocado/cheese/crackers, a playlist that would put dj lohan to shame... we partied till the wee hours of the morning (6:30am or so) which leads me to...
third: my cousin's wedding was saturday morning. yes, morning. it was a 10am ceremony followed by a 12 noon brunch. he lives in cleveland, which makes for a 2 hour drive to attend this god-forsaken event. b/c i'm "living with my parents" for relative’s sake, my invitations are sometimes combined with my spawners. and when my mother tells me of these get-togethers, she inconveniently forgets to tell me some important detail, like "THIS WEDDING STARTS AT 10AM SO WE'LL HAVE TO LEAVE BY 730AM SATURDAY MORNING". you would think the planner of this wedding would take into consideration that 50% of the attendees are coming from out-of-state. you would think they would go with the traditional evening reception. WHO THE FUCK HAS A WEDDING BRUNCH RECEPTION!?!?!?! well fuck it, i didnt go. i couldnt go. i hadnt gone to bed when i made the dreaded 630am phone call to my father telling him i wouldnt be making the monkey-march to CLEVELAND. cleveland? CLEVELAND? FUCK CLEVELAND! i hate CLEVELAND. i LOATH CLEVELAND! i contribute my hostility of cleveland to the 1990-1995 thanksgivings and light-up nights i had to endure, my sarcastic, pronouncing 'o's as 'a's accent-mouthed cousins (i.e. instead of "scott" it is "scatt" and "water" is "waaaaader"), and the (remember those strange realistic dreams of sitting on a toilet so you, yes, let loose only to wake up with a wet bed?) yeah, and that. (in my defence, i was 11 and in a weird bed - actually it wasn't even a bed, it was a sleeping bag. so dont poke fun.) so fuck cleveland. and fuck everything that has to do with cleveland - including my bitch-ass cousin. he is significantly older than me - maybe 10 years. and i imagine a 10-year-old-their-elder boy doesnt take much to little cousin chicken legs: myself (we have his father to thank for the leg complex, if you remember). cousin was always a dick to me and has since never held a pleasant conversation and to that i say "fuck your wedding". im more than happy i did not go. even if i have to listen to my parents one more time about responsibility and maturity. i believe it's not that i didnt attend the wedding so much as i rsvp'd i would, and then last minute, didnt. nonetheless...
i'm too exhausted to write about forth and fifth. you'll have to wait for the second installment of "hell: what is it good for?"
2 Comments:
How the fuck does Phil Collins make your link section and overcaffienated doesn't? Eff you and eff phil collins too.
cleveland accents are the sexiest, somethings wrong with your braincase
Post a Comment
<< Home