...and her thighs weren't too far behind

sometimes when i get beyond the realm of the normy boredomness i start to play with my flip-phone like some tarty high school girl at glory days. and here is the result of my post-work, pre-ride-home, sweat ass because it was 90some degrees outside trail of thoughts....

"i beg you... do not let me be that woman at 5 o'clock running about town in pantyhose and Nike's. in fact, don't even let me be the woman in hose unless it's 2 degrees outside and i'm walking a few hundred miles outdoors sans long johns or an ounce of taste. a fucking some-kind-of-bug just bit me on the foot. maybe hose aren't the worst idea ever if they could possibly prevent bug-bites. blog on a bench on a text to absolutely no one. fab. i crave argentinian ice cream from some spot in gtown that i researched while restaurant shopping at work. must go.

i "sauntered" into the bathroom today in honor of the day (national sauntering day, said the man on the radio.. you have to believe it when it's one of those news/traffic/weather channels, they seem to know their shit) and was overwhelmed by vanilla scent. oh memories of middle school when the fad was orange everything and chubby preteen girls reeked of vanilla "body splash" from the mecca of reeking, bath and body works. i take that back, i love bath and body works, but i hate smelling like a pastry.

it's hot as balls outside. i know this because....
A) i am outside
B) i get around a bit (...only joking, but it seemed like the clever thing to say)

if you need a visual, i was sitting at one of those bus-stop booths waiting for my dad to pick me up while typing all this on my cellular.. when out of nowhere this woman in tight green sweatpants starts to jay-walk-panic-run across the street. you know how some people dress like they work out, but really don't lift much more than a fork? exactly. i had no idea just how tight her pants were or how many forks she'd lifted until i looked twice and realized her outer thigh rolls were quaking behind her with every pounding step. blegh, i shudder and shit myself scarred at the memory. i've given up forks starting tomorrow."

auf wiedersehen, goodbye.

standing in my bare feet

weekends are automatic shoe-boycotting-days. i meant to step out and buy black polish or some other shade of something not pink or peach and typically me, sadly i didn't and will continue to have nude nails for a few more days. i honestly actually don't like to wear polish, but i figured i might as well, for really no reason except that's the girl-thing to do and i am, after all, a lady. not that that isn't an obvious fact or something. i also meant to straighten my hair. i'm full of intent and lacking on action. i'm sure even my to-do lists that are circa 2004 are still incomplete. i have serious ADD when it comes to errands.
i've been avoiding the victorias secret website for a couple of days now... my amex bill is already going to kick me on both sides of my tush. i should be buying "grown-up" clothes so i can't completely justify buying more sweat pants and P!NK sports bra's. seriously, i can shop at one of the sexiest stores in the world and come out buying nothing but sweat pants and sports bra's. it's a skill of some sort, i'm sure. it's like, i have so much cutesy underwear already that there is no need for more since a lot of it hasn't even been put to a test. that's besides the point. but really, if you're buying underthings just to get naked with some dude who's ultimate goal for the evening is to get you out of your underthings, whats really the point? if the boy wants to get you in your nuddy pants, you're underwear isn't really going to be a deal-breaker of any sort unless it's saggy, white and up to your ribs. and now that i seem like a tart, i will babble on about something else.
the E! channel has been giving me a guilt trip all weekend by playing "25 best swimsuit moments" and "101 sexiest bodies" all damn weekend back to back. i'm signing up for "fit to win" on monday for motivation's sake and because they will test all my fattyness and health stuff which is something i've been meaning to do for a while. i don't eat crap or grease or fried crap so i'm nearly certain my insides are fine, but you really never know.
time for a bed... i must prepare for another 5 days of walking in stilts.

goodnight, moon

my cat went MIA again. she knows i know her hiding spot so now i can't find her and i'm too chicken shit to walk around the entire house because there are dark spots and i'm a bit of a punk when it comes to dark spots. dammit. there's at least 3 other cats around here and i don't know if she's off playing with them or battling them. hopefully neither or option A. last time she did this, i woke up at 4 am hearing animal houls, freaked out, woke up like the whole house and raced outside only so she could wander in like nothing was going on. i love the little yellow-eyed furry ball... so i guess i'll have to stay up a while longer and wait.
i played grown-up all day so i'm super tired. it's finally time to take these silly contacts out, watch some E! channel and veg out in my PINK sweats. cheers.

corporate barbie, less the corporate and barbie bit

major LOST junkie.. totally confused and pissed that next wednesday will be lost-less and lame. the good news is the simple life comes back this weekend and pools open. sweet. if it wasn't a tad late i'd be calling my lost-friends to gossip, but i suppose it can wait until tomorrow... besides, i can't be that much of a nerd.
i have intern orientation tomorrow and i'm semi-nervous. i'm pretty sure they're going to take my picture for my "badge" or what not so i have to look official as well as officially photogenic. ha. time to play grown-up. i do wish i could say i was dressing up as corporate barbie, but i'm not working for a firm of any sort nor am i barbie-esque at all so that pretty much kills the idea of it all. blegh, i just hope i don't have to wear a blazer-ish work coat and shoulder pads. that's so 80's it makes my hair poof. plus it's almost june and june is no time for shoulder pads, as if there were ever a season for shoulder pads.
which reminds me..! you know what sucks....? being late for work, getting your period, having ZERO tampons in a house with 4 other women, and paying $10 for parking whilst making $7.50 per hour. oh yea, and running around town in a diaper all day, total bummer. and by diaper i mean pad. i'd always see pad ads on the television when i was a kid and thought it was because older people had bladder issues and needed to wear these downgraded diapers called pads. apparently, not the case since i tested my theory and wound up with pee in my shorts. whatever, i was like little and beyond ridiculous. the point is i had to wear a pad today and it was majorly lame. at least it wasn't one of those 3-inch fat crotch protector-types that you can see the outline through some silly girls pants. i don't care if anyone says otherwise but pad-lines are fucking hilarious.

i big fat heart chick lit

so i finished jane green's straight talking last night. pretty good novel until right about the end where she stops being a cynical slut and gets all love struck. i guess it happens. whatever.
i did a bit of online book browsing last night and found out that plum sykes does have a sequel to bergdorf called debutante divorce. how exciting! i may just need to blow some cash on a library of fresh summer chick lit. and maybe a smarty-pants book somewhere in there, for the sake of balance.
anyways, i told myself i would save my future dollars for this stuff:

• new digital camera
• snowboarding stuff
• invisalign
• studying abroad
• the elliott lucca sly doctor bag, i sweat it madly
• cute and mod dresses, because it's so much easier to wear a dress than pick out a top and bottom, and seeing as how i hate getting dressed, a dress is a much better idea

and other stuff i wrote down in my journal and can't remember right now...

it's payday!!! time to go pick up my paycheck... i really should get direct-deposit.

if you weren't real i'd make you up

my silly computer still won't turn on so i'm using a super slow surrogate. i also think i just alliterated. swell.
after a considerably long day filled with everything but food, mutti and i had dinner at uno's. there was a hottie musician playing cover songs from the eagles to britney spears and he managed to get hotel california stuck in my head. all i want to do now is jam out to everything and anything and i can't because my computer has decided to hibernate for the past 2 weeks. i know i could turn on the radio, or dig up my cd player, but it's not the same. maybe i should crawl out of my media-challenged cave and get an ipod-esque electronic thing. actually, my cell phone moonlights as an mp3 player, but the secret of how is something i have yet to figure out. effing technology. i'm supposed to be saving dollars for a new camera anyway, the music bit can wait. after all, you can't scrap songs and i have made a semi-promise to my scrapnerd sister to be scraptasticly scissor-happy with her at some point this summer. damn i dig the letter S. i never realized how much until right about now.
i've been reading straight talking off and on for the past few months and i am almost done. i really don't want to be done though. once i finish, i have to find another book that interests me enough to read cover to cover and that can be quite the task. what i need to do is start reading more non-fiction books that will tell me something of higher value that i can maybe use while watching jeopardy or something, instead of books with cheetah-print covers about socialites and shopping sprees. i wonder if plum sykes has come out with a sequel to bergdorf blondes... and i will say, even at the risk of sounding like an airhead, that that book was seriously life-changing. british authors create the raddest of the rad socialite novels, no doubt.

fat-skinny-fat girl

so is it skinny fat girl, or fat skinny girl, and who decides? i guess a skinny fat girl is a fatty that's a bit more toned and solid, and a fat skinny girl is like a size 2 who jiggles a bit too much. according to that, i'm a fat skinny-ish girl, since i haven't spent a day in my life being scrawny-skinny, in spite of maxing out at a size 4. and by maxing out i mean maxing out.. if a size 3 doesn't fit me, i'll be damned if i go up any higher these days. i'm much too short for all that. i've decided i'm more like a fat-average girl, because skinny isn't quite on the mark and fat is beyond insulting. the point is i weighed myself today after pigging out (always a fab idea?) and i was at 115.7 pounds. clearly not as bad as i thought or as it could have been, but in spite of a number, i seem to be a jiggly mess who still needs to drop 10-ish pounds and throw on some muscle. now, if i were 5'7'' and 115ish lbs, i would be damn hott, and maybe a tad scary, but seeing as how i am 5'4'' and flat-boobed, i have no excuse for the jiggle. i wonder why all the weight won't just go upwards and be done with it. maybe if i stand on my head for a few it will shift off my ass and i'll finally develop cleavage at age 20.9. yea right. the fab part is i still fit my high school jeans, so i know i didn't balloon on the freshman 15 or anything. i have maybe gained 3-5 pounds in the past 3 years, which really isn't so bad compared to all the girls who went to college scrawny and came back as footballers. i probably shouldn't talk about that considering they could totally wreck my ass, but then again, it's not my fault they went back for thirds at the dining hall.
i pinkie-promised myself i would be at 108 by the time school starts again. i'm not necessarily fat or anything, but rumor has it that even lettuce makes you a cow once you turn 22 and i absolutely refuse to be a cow at any age. the end.