i named this post as such because every time i look at where that stupid trailer pauses, i laugh. rob looks dreadful or is it deadful? that makeup... no words. it's so awful. so i laugh, hysterically every time i see it.

ok. so i saw remember me. so sue me. and i fucking bawled my eyes out like a little bitch too. because that ending sneaks up on you and rips out your uterus and tells you everything in your life is wrong while simultaneously squeezing lemons and rubbing salt into your wounds. like, slap me sideways that was heart gutting. i was hung over the first time i saw it and i still bawled-- despite the fact that i would have rather vomitted up my chef boyardee that i'd had for breakfast/brunch that morning.
i saw it again and let me tell you, i cried even harder. you think you can prepare yourself for the onslaught of tears and crying and being a general whiny, blubbering mess but i couldn't stop myself. i knew what was coming and i embraced it to the point where i needed to audibly snuck back all of my escaped snot. i was a hot mess-- i wonder why my friends like to take me into public. but they tolerate me, so i must be doing something right. maybe?

my birthday was a success. i think. i don't particularly remember most of it but i think that denotes a rather exuberant check in the 'was it a success' column. broken city disasters always end nicely, i think. i got my tuna sangwich in the end and a coffee. perfect end. who needs pizza when you have a perfectly chilled tuna sandwich and half sweetened coffee? i know i'm odd, but damnit! i love those tuna sandwiches from that pizza place across the street from broken city.
i forgot that that saturday would have been clock change. i didn't even notice that i lost an hour of sleep. i woke up the next morning ready to take on the world, as slowly and in as little light as possible. so we saw remember me in our pjs. i love those chicken finger-balls that they have at the movie theatre. love them so much.

st. patrick's day was a flaming shit show. no, sirs and madams it wasn't just any shit show it was a FLAMING shit show of epic proportions. i need to have my cell phone taken away from me if we know we're drinking. because i make a giant ass out of myself everytime. i'd never gone out for st. patrick's day before and i can't help but thank the heavens that it's only once a year. i was handily drank under and over the table by everyone around me. i blame the green food colouring-- it inhibited my thinking synapsis in my brain. it was totally cool that i attempted to kiss one of my former coworkers on the cheek but underestimated the distance between our chairs and practically fell into his lap. mother fucker i'm a hot mess. then my friends from junior high come waltzing in and... well to make a long story incredibly short the last time i'd seen one of them i definitely had my tongue shoved down his throat. to which apparently, he told all of his friends much to my dismay. so the first words out of my rather robust friend was 'IT TOOK YOU SEVEN FUCKING YEARS. FINALLY.'
it has in fact taken almost 9, thank you.

march still has yet to end and i have one more night of true debauchery planned... could be two depending on how drunk i can convince myself to get in the company of my junior high boys. i'm a little fearful, and rightly so. drinking with them always turns into disasters of epic proportions, namely my house gets destroyed. but it's not at my house... i'll have to think about how drunk i can get or if i want to be drunk at all. the possibility of more making out with that dude are highly likely if there is alcohol involved...
no. must stay strong.
then next tuesday is MUSE! where i will ingest scads of heroin beer and maybe a few screw drivers while listening to badass music with the bestie. like, hello? can you say not making it to class on wednesday? i have a paper due that day, i'm sure of it. but i was gonna drop that class anyways... ? i probably should. i don't know what said paper is about. i know that we have to pick a technology/science article from popular press but i don't know what to do with it. like... what the feck?! i suppose it really is important to show up once in a while.

april is promising to be less of a shit show, but that's because it's not april yet. i know the first weekend in april is my friends going away party. it's a white trash bash... oh lord. i can't wait. i love dressing up, and the fact that jello shooters SCREAM white trash i'll be well on my way to actually being white trash.
anyhoodle noodle, i better amscray before i waste any more time in this computer lab... at least there isn't anyone watching porn today. i don't think i couldn've handled another episode of that. there's only so much cilicone one can handle on any given day and that day filled my quota for the next 30 or so years.

for now, keep your head up and your stick on the ice. <3

b; old enough to know better; attached.
college student of historical events, future educator. canadienne. i like to read, but i don't do it enough. i run. i like zombies. i'm obsessed with all things batman, except not batfleck. i'm a terrible video game player, but i'm getting better through attrition. i can play piano pretty good, though. the sound of city streets soothes me, but i love the silence of the forest. curious stargazer.

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i named this post as such because every time i look at where that stupid trailer pauses, i laugh. rob looks dreadful or is it deadful? that makeup... no words. it's so awful. so i laugh, hysterically every time i see it.

ok. so i saw remember me. so sue me. and i fucking bawled my eyes out like a little bitch too. because that ending sneaks up on you and rips out your uterus and tells you everything in your life is wrong while simultaneously squeezing lemons and rubbing salt into your wounds. like, slap me sideways that was heart gutting. i was hung over the first time i saw it and i still bawled-- despite the fact that i would have rather vomitted up my chef boyardee that i'd had for breakfast/brunch that morning.
i saw it again and let me tell you, i cried even harder. you think you can prepare yourself for the onslaught of tears and crying and being a general whiny, blubbering mess but i couldn't stop myself. i knew what was coming and i embraced it to the point where i needed to audibly snuck back all of my escaped snot. i was a hot mess-- i wonder why my friends like to take me into public. but they tolerate me, so i must be doing something right. maybe?

my birthday was a success. i think. i don't particularly remember most of it but i think that denotes a rather exuberant check in the 'was it a success' column. broken city disasters always end nicely, i think. i got my tuna sangwich in the end and a coffee. perfect end. who needs pizza when you have a perfectly chilled tuna sandwich and half sweetened coffee? i know i'm odd, but damnit! i love those tuna sandwiches from that pizza place across the street from broken city.
i forgot that that saturday would have been clock change. i didn't even notice that i lost an hour of sleep. i woke up the next morning ready to take on the world, as slowly and in as little light as possible. so we saw remember me in our pjs. i love those chicken finger-balls that they have at the movie theatre. love them so much.

st. patrick's day was a flaming shit show. no, sirs and madams it wasn't just any shit show it was a FLAMING shit show of epic proportions. i need to have my cell phone taken away from me if we know we're drinking. because i make a giant ass out of myself everytime. i'd never gone out for st. patrick's day before and i can't help but thank the heavens that it's only once a year. i was handily drank under and over the table by everyone around me. i blame the green food colouring-- it inhibited my thinking synapsis in my brain. it was totally cool that i attempted to kiss one of my former coworkers on the cheek but underestimated the distance between our chairs and practically fell into his lap. mother fucker i'm a hot mess. then my friends from junior high come waltzing in and... well to make a long story incredibly short the last time i'd seen one of them i definitely had my tongue shoved down his throat. to which apparently, he told all of his friends much to my dismay. so the first words out of my rather robust friend was 'IT TOOK YOU SEVEN FUCKING YEARS. FINALLY.'
it has in fact taken almost 9, thank you.

march still has yet to end and i have one more night of true debauchery planned... could be two depending on how drunk i can convince myself to get in the company of my junior high boys. i'm a little fearful, and rightly so. drinking with them always turns into disasters of epic proportions, namely my house gets destroyed. but it's not at my house... i'll have to think about how drunk i can get or if i want to be drunk at all. the possibility of more making out with that dude are highly likely if there is alcohol involved...
no. must stay strong.
then next tuesday is MUSE! where i will ingest scads of heroin beer and maybe a few screw drivers while listening to badass music with the bestie. like, hello? can you say not making it to class on wednesday? i have a paper due that day, i'm sure of it. but i was gonna drop that class anyways... ? i probably should. i don't know what said paper is about. i know that we have to pick a technology/science article from popular press but i don't know what to do with it. like... what the feck?! i suppose it really is important to show up once in a while.

april is promising to be less of a shit show, but that's because it's not april yet. i know the first weekend in april is my friends going away party. it's a white trash bash... oh lord. i can't wait. i love dressing up, and the fact that jello shooters SCREAM white trash i'll be well on my way to actually being white trash.
anyhoodle noodle, i better amscray before i waste any more time in this computer lab... at least there isn't anyone watching porn today. i don't think i couldn've handled another episode of that. there's only so much cilicone one can handle on any given day and that day filled my quota for the next 30 or so years.

for now, keep your head up and your stick on the ice. <3