I Didn't Play With Barbies And Other Reasons I'm Not Cool

I didn't play with Barbies. Or any of those dolls that allow you to give them makeovers with play makeup or by cutting their hair. As a result, I'm cosmetically challenged and have suffered a series of bad haircuts. These are my confessions.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Schizo-Rebuttal:The Act of Rebutting Your Own Post

"The Guy" sucks.
Even though I've never met him, I hate what he represents.
I hate when someone seems perfect from a distance and you start acting stupid, like, say, dedicating posts to them and doing everything short of writing their name all swirly in your notebook.
They seem very nice. And approachable. You think you can just introduce yourself and the next thing you know he's burning you a CD of his favorite songs and your signing your names on each others Converse All Stars. Or something.
Then you find out he's a whiney ass. But thankfully before you have the misfortune of meeting him.
And then? You are extremely dissapointed and go to Denny's and mope over your Philly Melt.
And feel like a complete moron.
I loathe you 'Guy,' I loathe you.

1 Comments:

At 6:26 PM, Blogger Bobbie said...

Only in my twisted world. If a guy burned me a CD of their favorite love songs I would squee in a girlish manner.
As long as there was no Savage Garden.

 

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