thiz iz allz i gotz to say
i hate it when people talk like that. aNd LiKe tHIs, ToO.
but anyway.
i don't have anything to say, i really don't. so i figgered i'd just type (or keyboard, since that's what all the kidZ are calling it theze dayz) some words and then hit "go." ya'll can read the words or you can just go on with your day, next-bloggin' it hard core.
i'm still not a functioning human. i can't seem to talk to anyone. i don't call... i don't message... i don't return emails. it's pretty not normal for me, either that or it is the new me altogether and i'm incurable. i dunno. luckily, i don't really care right now so it all works out. don't go all thinking that i don't care about YOU... i so totally do. it's just that i don't care that i'm broken, if that makes any sense to you at all. a few months ago, i said to my seester and my friend that i just wanted the not-caring part to come and it appears that it is here. now that it is here, i don't care enough to figure out if it is a good thing or a bad thing. meh.
i think you should all go out and watch the indian in the cupboard. or, stay in and rent it, as it left the cinema around 1995. i just watched it and it was a wonderful movie about how to treat people. i totally dug it. i'm not even kidding. i could suggest more entertaining movies, that i also loved, such as rushmore, or eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, or dirty rotten scoundrels, or the royal tennenbaums, or, real women have curves, or something, but i think you would all benefit more from the indian in the cupboard. yeah yeah yeah, eternal sunshine finally answered whether or not it is better to know and have the pain or not know and be numb, and dirty rotten scoundrels taught us not to pee at the dinner table, and real women have curves taught us that ugly "that time of the month pants" are hot chonies, too... but today i'm recommending a movie that will remind us of how to treat each other. so go watch it, and be good people. then go gambling at one of my people's casinos.
unrelated to the previous unrelated paragraphZ, i'd like to say that i have an unhealthy addiction to celebrity gossip. and i can't say that i am altogether ashamed. i'm not a big fan of rachel ray, but for some reason i like reading the most assuredly false story about her husband paying some hooker twenty bucks to spit on him. that is pure entertainment. so is the rude poem that the "artist" formerly known as britney's mister allegedly wrote on his shower door. good times, good times.
i leave you with a collage of me in my basically awesome track jacket that i got at ross for three dollars american. it it very versatile, as you can see. it can be worn for many activities such as drinking coffee, reading, taking lame pictures of yourself in the mirror, knitting blankets for TANK, yawning, pointing at the jacket itself, giving the thumbs-up, making turkey faces and looking hot in general. awesome. i bet i could even think of a bunch of other things to do in it, if i wanted to... like, wiggle it... just a little bit, or ride a bicycle or make toast even.
arrivederci, rebecca marie
p.s. toldja my pinkies were crooked.
but anyway.
i don't have anything to say, i really don't. so i figgered i'd just type (or keyboard, since that's what all the kidZ are calling it theze dayz) some words and then hit "go." ya'll can read the words or you can just go on with your day, next-bloggin' it hard core.
i'm still not a functioning human. i can't seem to talk to anyone. i don't call... i don't message... i don't return emails. it's pretty not normal for me, either that or it is the new me altogether and i'm incurable. i dunno. luckily, i don't really care right now so it all works out. don't go all thinking that i don't care about YOU... i so totally do. it's just that i don't care that i'm broken, if that makes any sense to you at all. a few months ago, i said to my seester and my friend that i just wanted the not-caring part to come and it appears that it is here. now that it is here, i don't care enough to figure out if it is a good thing or a bad thing. meh.
i think you should all go out and watch the indian in the cupboard. or, stay in and rent it, as it left the cinema around 1995. i just watched it and it was a wonderful movie about how to treat people. i totally dug it. i'm not even kidding. i could suggest more entertaining movies, that i also loved, such as rushmore, or eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, or dirty rotten scoundrels, or the royal tennenbaums, or, real women have curves, or something, but i think you would all benefit more from the indian in the cupboard. yeah yeah yeah, eternal sunshine finally answered whether or not it is better to know and have the pain or not know and be numb, and dirty rotten scoundrels taught us not to pee at the dinner table, and real women have curves taught us that ugly "that time of the month pants" are hot chonies, too... but today i'm recommending a movie that will remind us of how to treat each other. so go watch it, and be good people. then go gambling at one of my people's casinos.
unrelated to the previous unrelated paragraphZ, i'd like to say that i have an unhealthy addiction to celebrity gossip. and i can't say that i am altogether ashamed. i'm not a big fan of rachel ray, but for some reason i like reading the most assuredly false story about her husband paying some hooker twenty bucks to spit on him. that is pure entertainment. so is the rude poem that the "artist" formerly known as britney's mister allegedly wrote on his shower door. good times, good times.
i leave you with a collage of me in my basically awesome track jacket that i got at ross for three dollars american. it it very versatile, as you can see. it can be worn for many activities such as drinking coffee, reading, taking lame pictures of yourself in the mirror, knitting blankets for TANK, yawning, pointing at the jacket itself, giving the thumbs-up, making turkey faces and looking hot in general. awesome. i bet i could even think of a bunch of other things to do in it, if i wanted to... like, wiggle it... just a little bit, or ride a bicycle or make toast even.
arrivederci, rebecca marie
p.s. toldja my pinkies were crooked.
proclaimed by rebecca marie at 10:47 AM
14 flattering compliments:
You rock that Jacket. You rock it so hard. It's tracklicious.
And you do too care. (I promise you do).
word verification: xsplsts
mmmmexplicits....
hey janni laine... do you love my track jacket?
I love it!
i got it at ross!
(hey ross... just email me at rebecca hyphen marie at hotmail dot com and i tell you where to send the royalty chizzecks)
#2 iS aWfUl... i ExPeCt To SeE iT oN tHe WiNtEr(S) CaTaLoGuE (It'S a SoFtEr look. crap. it's hard to type like that. I give the kids kudos for that. But I have to tell you that Dirty Rotten Scoundrels taught me why the cork is on the fork. And all about OklahomaOklahomaOklahoma.
Royalty Chizzex... awesome.
"buyin' pounds of gold with royalty checks... and i'm swass."
anyone else miffed at that "doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" song? get off sir-mix-alot's grill, yo!
Brimalo's
That jacket's rippin', and this post is sooo fly. People who get mad that you don't call them are just mad cause it means you have a life and they don't.
I, too, am fascinated by celebrity gossip. And I'm not ashamed either. If they want to make spectacles of themselves, it's the least I can do to point and laugh.
I am so impressed by you. I am impressed by your track jacket--it is comprised of awesome. I am impressed that you got your wicked track jacket for $3--that's some serious bargain shopping, my hat is off to you. I am impressed by your mad modeling skillz. I am impressed that you know how to knit or crochet or whatever it is you're doing to create the beautiful blanky for TANK. And I am impressed and humbled that you're taking the time to make said beooootiful blanket for my little man--I'm way too lazy and selfish to spend that much time on something I was going to give away.
In summary, you rock. You rock so hard.
I want you to know that Ryan set your pictures as our sceen background...so we have been looking at your lovely pictures for a couple days now. How does that make you feel?
famous. that's how.
Gina... I love you but:
I like how everyone is being fake MySpace Gangsta and in comes Gina with "Hey guys... I am fully impressed with the rumors and paparazzi photographs of today's celebrity world."
Cool Gina. Real Cool. BUT I LOVE YOU!
RM, I've been at the not caring place before. It's almost like all the feelings have been burned out of you and all you feel is numb where they used to be. Ride it out, and when you're ready to care again, decide to care, act like you care, and believe that you care; you'll find that you actually do, you just can't always feel it like you want to. Some days will be better than others, but you will care again.
Keep it up, Gina. I decided years ago to be myself, and if I want to make fun of myself, I act like a caricature of myself. When I see that my audience doesn't get the joke, I sometimes emphasize my quirky nerdiness by saying something that other people might say to sound cool in a way that most definately does not.
This is great--you can get 13 comments on something you "had nothing to say." Again--you are the queen of blogs.
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