02/19/2009
i've been listening to the same bass riff
for a good 2 years now
maybe it's gotten better
but you've only gotten worse.
well it's nice to see you sleep away
while i go off to work each day
and it's nice to see you take up space
just so efficiently.
and please, my dear, don't get up,
i wouldn't want you to knock over
that little tin that hides so well
the reason why your eyes are red
and the reason why you giggle
though if you do that goddamn giggle
one more time then i swear
i will remove your adams apple with a pen
a pen that you think is usedt
o write such eloquent verse
they're shit, my dear, pure shit.
much like the fall out boy soundtrack
you have always on repeat.
the great thing is that i can recycle
all my cd's from the 8th grade
on your awful sense of self righteousness.
and while i'm sick and in pain,
could you start that riff again?
because i'd love to just hear you play
feverently, i'm hoping a string snaps
then tie that string into an elastic
to hold your hair back when you get sick
that should come very shortly
right after you get a look at yourself.
could you leave the car smelling of smoke?
could you leave yourself any more of a joke?
a joke of a success story
repeating what you said killed you before
well my dear, can you guess what's in store?
i can't promise that i'll see you so much
just as time goes on and i get busy
i've got school to actually attend, and you,
you will probably end up in prison.
if it makes you feel any better,
i don't think you belong there, no.
you'd be a great janitor.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
we are but mist.
02/18/2009
if i could leave my body for a night
i would go so far.
i'd watch my frame fall, soulless,
to the ground and i'd sway.
but i'd float away.
i'd let wind grip me
i'd lay close to the ground
look down upon nothing
but those who look down.
i'd drift near those who've been gone
for far far too long
i'd overflow with joy
since all my barriers were forgotten
it would be an overdue reunion
we could not embrace
because we are but mist
but their presence is so just
that we are okay as we are.
we will float around those we love
make sure that they are all right
we can not embrace them
because we are but mist
but it is beautiful to see them live
we watched your brother laugh
and the sun got brighter
we drifted by our very best friends
kissed the air near their faces
they laughed and we saw her nose twitch
we knew she'd felt us there
your mother was saying a prayer
we sat beside her as she murmured
and you had a look on your face
that i knew you used to watch over her daily
she left the room with a candle on
and we blew it out as we left.
we floated on clouds listlessly
and traced our names in the sky
and carefully you showed me how
to slide through the rain
we found the rainbow and began again
and smiling we found ourselves
reminiscing of being alive together.
do you remember when we walked together.
we used to walk together nearly every day.
i know you remember
your foggy eyes mist up a bit more
your smoky outline nods again
there is a smile that sparks somewhere there
because i see the sun get brighter
and we agree that i have been out for awhile
you say i shouldn't waste a beautiful soul
by keeping it away from home for so long.
you have such a beautiful soul.
but you are right about going home.
i say goodbye and my body feels heavy
i know you're still not far
i always wrap my arms around myself
when it's misty out.
if i could leave my body for a night
i would go so far.
i'd watch my frame fall, soulless,
to the ground and i'd sway.
but i'd float away.
i'd let wind grip me
i'd lay close to the ground
look down upon nothing
but those who look down.
i'd drift near those who've been gone
for far far too long
i'd overflow with joy
since all my barriers were forgotten
it would be an overdue reunion
we could not embrace
because we are but mist
but their presence is so just
that we are okay as we are.
we will float around those we love
make sure that they are all right
we can not embrace them
because we are but mist
but it is beautiful to see them live
we watched your brother laugh
and the sun got brighter
we drifted by our very best friends
kissed the air near their faces
they laughed and we saw her nose twitch
we knew she'd felt us there
your mother was saying a prayer
we sat beside her as she murmured
and you had a look on your face
that i knew you used to watch over her daily
she left the room with a candle on
and we blew it out as we left.
we floated on clouds listlessly
and traced our names in the sky
and carefully you showed me how
to slide through the rain
we found the rainbow and began again
and smiling we found ourselves
reminiscing of being alive together.
do you remember when we walked together.
we used to walk together nearly every day.
i know you remember
your foggy eyes mist up a bit more
your smoky outline nods again
there is a smile that sparks somewhere there
because i see the sun get brighter
and we agree that i have been out for awhile
you say i shouldn't waste a beautiful soul
by keeping it away from home for so long.
you have such a beautiful soul.
but you are right about going home.
i say goodbye and my body feels heavy
i know you're still not far
i always wrap my arms around myself
when it's misty out.
Monday, February 16, 2009
to fall
02/16/2009
falling for someone is so goddamn cliche. it's actually embarrassing.
as i am an expert in hypocrisy, of course, i am going to explore this cliche further.
it's always frightening, there's always one moment where you realize you're at risk to lose that one thing, and you panic. that panic is something you should probably get used to. you'll be feeling watered down and dialed up versions of that for awhile after, should the thing work out. it is hard to stifle that feeling of "am i going to lose this person". you turn on yourself, and begin measuring out all that you do that could influence them to just take off. you can quite possibly become a wreck. it's very easy to do.
amidst the wreckage, it's a very beautiful feeling.
it's like when you're half asleep and dreaming that you're walking and you trip. your feet kick forward, trying to catch your balance and you wake up with your heart beating a little faster and realize you're in bed.
it's that terrifying few seconds where you're probably about to eat pavement. it's your body and mind rushing forward to try and protect you and keep you safe. it's your heart racing because you're scared, so so scared, and then you realize that there's nothing to be scared of. and that at least your heart is beating. really, you're ending up somewhere as safe and comforting as you could hope for.
it's all that you could hope for when you fall for someone, that even after the fear, the defense mechanisms, and the catching of your breath, that they'll still be able to keep you warm.
so stop imagining scenarios where you'll lose them, and stop second guessing everything you do.
just fall back asleep.
falling for someone is so goddamn cliche. it's actually embarrassing.
as i am an expert in hypocrisy, of course, i am going to explore this cliche further.
it's always frightening, there's always one moment where you realize you're at risk to lose that one thing, and you panic. that panic is something you should probably get used to. you'll be feeling watered down and dialed up versions of that for awhile after, should the thing work out. it is hard to stifle that feeling of "am i going to lose this person". you turn on yourself, and begin measuring out all that you do that could influence them to just take off. you can quite possibly become a wreck. it's very easy to do.
amidst the wreckage, it's a very beautiful feeling.
it's like when you're half asleep and dreaming that you're walking and you trip. your feet kick forward, trying to catch your balance and you wake up with your heart beating a little faster and realize you're in bed.
it's that terrifying few seconds where you're probably about to eat pavement. it's your body and mind rushing forward to try and protect you and keep you safe. it's your heart racing because you're scared, so so scared, and then you realize that there's nothing to be scared of. and that at least your heart is beating. really, you're ending up somewhere as safe and comforting as you could hope for.
it's all that you could hope for when you fall for someone, that even after the fear, the defense mechanisms, and the catching of your breath, that they'll still be able to keep you warm.
so stop imagining scenarios where you'll lose them, and stop second guessing everything you do.
just fall back asleep.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
abc shuffle
02/10/2009
i started out just trying to incorporate band names, alphabetically, for fun.
i don't really know what it is now
a young boy runs down the street
crying out in pain and anguish
crying out for hope
his voice echoes through montreal
his hands are singed
joysticks once fit in them
the arcade has caught fire.
he falls forward into a snowbank
soothing his hands with cold
there is a man sick with loneliness
and a blanket is his home
he pats the boy on the back
his voice is coated thick in french
he says that it is a good winter
"c'est un bon 'iver".
the snow soothes the skin
and his mind flashes fast
to memories of days before
ice ponds and snowball fights
it was the day to end all days
they were cold, they were at play.
and by the time the day was done
they laid about on the ground
just children, gripping tightly
to the brink of something more
their coats were filthy, faces clean
their mothers shook their heads
such dirty pretty things they were
and they wished they could go back.
back to lying on their spines
watching eagles fly over their heads.
but now it's back to almost grown
and almost kissed in the school yard
it was more talk than it was done
whose lips were the more flaming
his remained mostly unused
those who proved rumours true
well he could probably guess who
he comes to, his hands burning
from being enveloped with letters of snow
the man is gone, there's no smoke around
all he hears is the hush sound.
he sits in the street, shockingly empty
for a town of such magnitude
he feels like islands in the sea
that used to be a full city
he is his own journey, in his atlantis
his mother always warned him to come home
the kooks will be out at all hours in this city
especially late at night
but with his sanctuary in ashes
he stands taller than all
the last shadow puppets dance on the wall.
he is brave enough to stay as flurries fall
upon this chilly city
he whispers to the buildings that new clouds
will bring their morning jackets
and there is no doubt that he
will be the king of the streets tonight
the king of montreal.
he can hear sirens echo so far away
that he can imagine they're somewhere else
for this city is his, and the police
have no jurisdiction for imagination.
no need for queen, for almost kissing
he will rule alone and quite greedily
he wants to wear both crowns, he thinks.
the roots of the boy are deep below
the streets his trunk strides upon
it is beautiful, natural and violent
a savage garden beneath the snow
the boy is the flower, the others don't know.
he just wants to hear music now
streaming through the empty alleys
wants to hear voices, thought he heard a tv
on the radio, his favourite song plays
but he's too far below to hear a word
the man has returned, far too suddenly
"You scared me!" he exclaimed
"and you too" the boy stammered.
the vines of evil are crawling up
the walls of this nighttime kingdom.
wallflowers bloom during the night
and that man had laid against bricks all day
yes, the boy was found the next day
his dreams of being king dreamt far away
the man in the alley was dragged so far
"i'd just been trying to keep him warm
he froze to death in those damn snowbanks
kept saying he was king tonight
beat everyone amidst the games and flames"
and the last detective
shook his head at the sight of the young boy
his hands burnt black from the arcade fire.
what a cold night to go.
i started out just trying to incorporate band names, alphabetically, for fun.
i don't really know what it is now
a young boy runs down the street
crying out in pain and anguish
crying out for hope
his voice echoes through montreal
his hands are singed
joysticks once fit in them
the arcade has caught fire.
he falls forward into a snowbank
soothing his hands with cold
there is a man sick with loneliness
and a blanket is his home
he pats the boy on the back
his voice is coated thick in french
he says that it is a good winter
"c'est un bon 'iver".
the snow soothes the skin
and his mind flashes fast
to memories of days before
ice ponds and snowball fights
it was the day to end all days
they were cold, they were at play.
and by the time the day was done
they laid about on the ground
just children, gripping tightly
to the brink of something more
their coats were filthy, faces clean
their mothers shook their heads
such dirty pretty things they were
and they wished they could go back.
back to lying on their spines
watching eagles fly over their heads.
but now it's back to almost grown
and almost kissed in the school yard
it was more talk than it was done
whose lips were the more flaming
his remained mostly unused
those who proved rumours true
well he could probably guess who
he comes to, his hands burning
from being enveloped with letters of snow
the man is gone, there's no smoke around
all he hears is the hush sound.
he sits in the street, shockingly empty
for a town of such magnitude
he feels like islands in the sea
that used to be a full city
he is his own journey, in his atlantis
his mother always warned him to come home
the kooks will be out at all hours in this city
especially late at night
but with his sanctuary in ashes
he stands taller than all
the last shadow puppets dance on the wall.
he is brave enough to stay as flurries fall
upon this chilly city
he whispers to the buildings that new clouds
will bring their morning jackets
and there is no doubt that he
will be the king of the streets tonight
the king of montreal.
he can hear sirens echo so far away
that he can imagine they're somewhere else
for this city is his, and the police
have no jurisdiction for imagination.
no need for queen, for almost kissing
he will rule alone and quite greedily
he wants to wear both crowns, he thinks.
the roots of the boy are deep below
the streets his trunk strides upon
it is beautiful, natural and violent
a savage garden beneath the snow
the boy is the flower, the others don't know.
he just wants to hear music now
streaming through the empty alleys
wants to hear voices, thought he heard a tv
on the radio, his favourite song plays
but he's too far below to hear a word
the man has returned, far too suddenly
"You scared me!" he exclaimed
"and you too" the boy stammered.
the vines of evil are crawling up
the walls of this nighttime kingdom.
wallflowers bloom during the night
and that man had laid against bricks all day
yes, the boy was found the next day
his dreams of being king dreamt far away
the man in the alley was dragged so far
"i'd just been trying to keep him warm
he froze to death in those damn snowbanks
kept saying he was king tonight
beat everyone amidst the games and flames"
and the last detective
shook his head at the sight of the young boy
his hands burnt black from the arcade fire.
what a cold night to go.
Monday, February 9, 2009
insatiable.
02/09/2009
"i'm afraid i might be insatiable"
and her lower lip trembles
he can't help but doubt the word
and its existance
he's sure anyone could be satiated
by stopping that lip with theirs
and no matter how she insists
and whispers about it being unwise
he can only softly sigh
oh, to leave her satisfied.
and her eyes moisten
he just wants to close them
he wants to feel her sigh
feel her ribs grow with every breath
and with each breath in his ear
feel the skin raise under his fingertips
she shakes her head
he can hear every word
slipping through her lips
between the words she actually speaks.
he reaches forward, envelopes her
trying to silence her enough
so that she can hear
everything her body's saying.
and when she pulls away
her eyes are crying out to him
the tear is mightier than the sword
he can feel her ribs raise dramatically
his lips upon hers before she can exhale
a breath is too long to wait
she can whisper her warnings all she likes
she is his for now.
insatiability be damned.
"i'm afraid i might be insatiable"
and her lower lip trembles
he can't help but doubt the word
and its existance
he's sure anyone could be satiated
by stopping that lip with theirs
and no matter how she insists
and whispers about it being unwise
he can only softly sigh
oh, to leave her satisfied.
and her eyes moisten
he just wants to close them
he wants to feel her sigh
feel her ribs grow with every breath
and with each breath in his ear
feel the skin raise under his fingertips
she shakes her head
he can hear every word
slipping through her lips
between the words she actually speaks.
he reaches forward, envelopes her
trying to silence her enough
so that she can hear
everything her body's saying.
and when she pulls away
her eyes are crying out to him
the tear is mightier than the sword
he can feel her ribs raise dramatically
his lips upon hers before she can exhale
a breath is too long to wait
she can whisper her warnings all she likes
she is his for now.
insatiability be damned.
stuff drunk white girls like.
02/06/2009
blatant rip off of stuff white people like. i'm okay with it.
i'm aware that tons of these apply to me, as i'm a frequently drunk white girl. also okay with it.
1. Energy drink and alcohol combinations.
If you go to a club, or to almost any high school party, you are guaranteed to see a large group of girls in multi coloured leggings downing their 4 packs of Rev or Mojo. Many also resort to Red Bull mixes, and Tab, the bright pink energy drink that Coke cancelled awhile back, was so delish with raspberry vodka that there was always at least one per group of gathered drunk chicks. The bottles are adorable and colourful and the caffeine keeps them going long after their one and a half drink cut off stage.
2. Power songs.
As Amy Winehouse proved for us, drunk white girls can sing. They all think they're Wino when the shots are gone, so when the iPod on shuffle finally hits a Spice Girls song or something of the like, expect a group of ladies to scream out in excitement and start dancing and singing to each other. While they may decline karaoke a whole lot, we have no problem belting out every lyric to the latest Britney song while sprawled on someone's kitchen counter. If you're looking to pick up a drunk white chick, turn on Beyonce's "If I Were A Boy" and emphasize with her yelling of "THIS IS SO SO TRUE, THIS IS THE STORY OF MY LIFE" between her belting out the chorus.
3. Grinding.
As much as they will bitch that "That guy was all over me" and claim they just want to go and dance the night away with their friends, expect a drunk white girl's night to be completely ruin if no one attempts to grind on them. Any nearby male becomes a complete prop to what they consider exceptional dance moves, and the males usually withhold complaints. You will often see the drunk white girls grinding on each other, a lot more explicitly than they do with the guys, because it is only slutty if you do it with the opposite sex.
4. Kissing other drunk white girls.
The drunk girl principle of it only being slutty if you do it with the opposite sex applies yet again here. It will be only a clear expression of love for their "BEST FRIEND, like BEST in the whole world" and nothing even approaching lesbianism. Expect to hear many jokes involving the lyrics to 'I Kissed A Girl' and then requesting it repeatedly to emphasize how important that moment really was.
5. Being one-woman paparazzi shows.
The morning after for a drunk white girl is almost always a hazy, crazy mess, and the events of the previous night are only brought back into clear light by the absolutely necessary tradition of reviewing the pictures. Drunk white girls will corner you and take a picture with you, although if they are holding it, the aim is usually off, and they will laugh hysterically about it. If you go to a club, expect flashes more frequent than any strobe light.
6. Hating any picture taken of themselves.
After posing with their leg wrapped around the shoulder of their best friend for what is sure in their mind to be the sexiest picture ever, the drunk white girl will reach eagerly for their camera to see the picture and exclaim, with much shock, "Oh my God, I look like a WHORE." At a party, you will be approached to take a picture of a drunk lady and anyone nearby and you will be blamed for how horrid the picture is. "RETAKE" is often yelled more times than can be counted, and trips to the bathroom to fix up their "DISGUSTING face"s are immediately needed.
7. McDonald's.
At the peak of their drunkness or at the end of the night, the white girl may feel the need to balance out the liquor in her system with the greasiest meal she can get her hands on. This always results in them hunting down any nearby designated driver and begging, bribing and coaxing them until they give in and take them out for a double cheeseburger. It will be the best thing they have ever eaten, and they will exclaim this several times, before getting ill or bitching for an hour about how fat it's going to make them. Expect the "I'm actually so fat"/"I'm going to be so fat from all this" comments to start right about two packages of McChicken sauce in.
8. Kicking off their shoes.
No matter how sexy the heels are, or how well they go with their outfit, as soon as a drunk white girl reaches a club, those bitches bring the most excruciating pain they've ever experienced and they need to get off their feet immediately. One of the most common sightings of a drunk white girl takes place on the dancefloor, with a pile of stilettos in the middle of a ring of girls in a similar state. This barefoot idea will often result in them being stepped on by a "BITCH" still in heels and sometimes is the inciting factor in a girl fight.
9. False friendships.
You may be very close to a drunk white girl, or perhaps even be one, so you all know that there are certain girls they do not like, and often speak ill of. This will all change as soon as they have about two or three Vex in them. That one unspeakably awful girl, will suddenly be their very best friend in the world, usually brought on by a compliment such as "I love your belt" or "Hot shoes!" They will then proceed to have a drunken photoshoot, all the pictures will be deemed "so gross", and they will have an intense nine minute bonding sesh, in which the phrases "I thought you hated me!", "No, oh my God, I don't hate anyone!" are guaranteed to be uttered. The friendship will sustain itself only by the occasional Facebook picture comment, or the next drunken reunion.
10. Judging.
Whether it be during an end of the night Facebook creep, or in the midst of a club visit, drunk white girls will find any and every flaw on another drunk white girl that they don't know, and therefore don't like. Some are worse than others, but if there is a girl in a strappy minidress and high heels, prepare for a verbal lashing about the fatness of her thighs or how unsightly her shoes are. Of course, if this is at a party, they will eventually approach the girl with a "LOVE your dress!" or something of the like. An important fact to note about drunk white girls is that we are bitches, all of us.
11. Losing things.
No matter how much you remind a drunk white girl that her phone is tucked into her bra, or that her purse is upstairs in the host's room, there will always be countless panic stricken moments in which she will be convinced she lost one of her most prized possessions forever. "GUYS I seriously can't find my camera, I actually just had it on the table!" The drunk white girl will then begin to accuse people of stealing, no one specific of course, but the whole party will become suspect. Because, as I'm sure you'll all agree, it is much more likely that someone swiped their suitcase-sized purse rather than them just misplacing it. In fact, one of the easiest ways for a sleazy guy to pick up a drunk white chick is to retrieve the lost or "stolen" object for them, which will result in a "OH MY GOD thank you so much, you're actually so nice, you actually just saved my LIFE." You are crossing the line if you steal something just to give it back to her though. Too sleazy. Because..
12. Being easy.
Whether it be the guy who returned their lost phone, the guy who got them McDonald's, the one who danced with them while yelling how beautiful they looked during an Akon song, or the one who held their hair back while they got violently ill, a drunk white girl at her peak of inebriation can often believe that there is only one way to repay a kind man. And those kind men know this. So all drunk white girls have an unspoken code to try and protect each other from sleazy guys, though this often does not pan out as well as hoped
blatant rip off of stuff white people like. i'm okay with it.
i'm aware that tons of these apply to me, as i'm a frequently drunk white girl. also okay with it.
1. Energy drink and alcohol combinations.
If you go to a club, or to almost any high school party, you are guaranteed to see a large group of girls in multi coloured leggings downing their 4 packs of Rev or Mojo. Many also resort to Red Bull mixes, and Tab, the bright pink energy drink that Coke cancelled awhile back, was so delish with raspberry vodka that there was always at least one per group of gathered drunk chicks. The bottles are adorable and colourful and the caffeine keeps them going long after their one and a half drink cut off stage.
2. Power songs.
As Amy Winehouse proved for us, drunk white girls can sing. They all think they're Wino when the shots are gone, so when the iPod on shuffle finally hits a Spice Girls song or something of the like, expect a group of ladies to scream out in excitement and start dancing and singing to each other. While they may decline karaoke a whole lot, we have no problem belting out every lyric to the latest Britney song while sprawled on someone's kitchen counter. If you're looking to pick up a drunk white chick, turn on Beyonce's "If I Were A Boy" and emphasize with her yelling of "THIS IS SO SO TRUE, THIS IS THE STORY OF MY LIFE" between her belting out the chorus.
3. Grinding.
As much as they will bitch that "That guy was all over me" and claim they just want to go and dance the night away with their friends, expect a drunk white girl's night to be completely ruin if no one attempts to grind on them. Any nearby male becomes a complete prop to what they consider exceptional dance moves, and the males usually withhold complaints. You will often see the drunk white girls grinding on each other, a lot more explicitly than they do with the guys, because it is only slutty if you do it with the opposite sex.
4. Kissing other drunk white girls.
The drunk girl principle of it only being slutty if you do it with the opposite sex applies yet again here. It will be only a clear expression of love for their "BEST FRIEND, like BEST in the whole world" and nothing even approaching lesbianism. Expect to hear many jokes involving the lyrics to 'I Kissed A Girl' and then requesting it repeatedly to emphasize how important that moment really was.
5. Being one-woman paparazzi shows.
The morning after for a drunk white girl is almost always a hazy, crazy mess, and the events of the previous night are only brought back into clear light by the absolutely necessary tradition of reviewing the pictures. Drunk white girls will corner you and take a picture with you, although if they are holding it, the aim is usually off, and they will laugh hysterically about it. If you go to a club, expect flashes more frequent than any strobe light.
6. Hating any picture taken of themselves.
After posing with their leg wrapped around the shoulder of their best friend for what is sure in their mind to be the sexiest picture ever, the drunk white girl will reach eagerly for their camera to see the picture and exclaim, with much shock, "Oh my God, I look like a WHORE." At a party, you will be approached to take a picture of a drunk lady and anyone nearby and you will be blamed for how horrid the picture is. "RETAKE" is often yelled more times than can be counted, and trips to the bathroom to fix up their "DISGUSTING face"s are immediately needed.
7. McDonald's.
At the peak of their drunkness or at the end of the night, the white girl may feel the need to balance out the liquor in her system with the greasiest meal she can get her hands on. This always results in them hunting down any nearby designated driver and begging, bribing and coaxing them until they give in and take them out for a double cheeseburger. It will be the best thing they have ever eaten, and they will exclaim this several times, before getting ill or bitching for an hour about how fat it's going to make them. Expect the "I'm actually so fat"/"I'm going to be so fat from all this" comments to start right about two packages of McChicken sauce in.
8. Kicking off their shoes.
No matter how sexy the heels are, or how well they go with their outfit, as soon as a drunk white girl reaches a club, those bitches bring the most excruciating pain they've ever experienced and they need to get off their feet immediately. One of the most common sightings of a drunk white girl takes place on the dancefloor, with a pile of stilettos in the middle of a ring of girls in a similar state. This barefoot idea will often result in them being stepped on by a "BITCH" still in heels and sometimes is the inciting factor in a girl fight.
9. False friendships.
You may be very close to a drunk white girl, or perhaps even be one, so you all know that there are certain girls they do not like, and often speak ill of. This will all change as soon as they have about two or three Vex in them. That one unspeakably awful girl, will suddenly be their very best friend in the world, usually brought on by a compliment such as "I love your belt" or "Hot shoes!" They will then proceed to have a drunken photoshoot, all the pictures will be deemed "so gross", and they will have an intense nine minute bonding sesh, in which the phrases "I thought you hated me!", "No, oh my God, I don't hate anyone!" are guaranteed to be uttered. The friendship will sustain itself only by the occasional Facebook picture comment, or the next drunken reunion.
10. Judging.
Whether it be during an end of the night Facebook creep, or in the midst of a club visit, drunk white girls will find any and every flaw on another drunk white girl that they don't know, and therefore don't like. Some are worse than others, but if there is a girl in a strappy minidress and high heels, prepare for a verbal lashing about the fatness of her thighs or how unsightly her shoes are. Of course, if this is at a party, they will eventually approach the girl with a "LOVE your dress!" or something of the like. An important fact to note about drunk white girls is that we are bitches, all of us.
11. Losing things.
No matter how much you remind a drunk white girl that her phone is tucked into her bra, or that her purse is upstairs in the host's room, there will always be countless panic stricken moments in which she will be convinced she lost one of her most prized possessions forever. "GUYS I seriously can't find my camera, I actually just had it on the table!" The drunk white girl will then begin to accuse people of stealing, no one specific of course, but the whole party will become suspect. Because, as I'm sure you'll all agree, it is much more likely that someone swiped their suitcase-sized purse rather than them just misplacing it. In fact, one of the easiest ways for a sleazy guy to pick up a drunk white chick is to retrieve the lost or "stolen" object for them, which will result in a "OH MY GOD thank you so much, you're actually so nice, you actually just saved my LIFE." You are crossing the line if you steal something just to give it back to her though. Too sleazy. Because..
12. Being easy.
Whether it be the guy who returned their lost phone, the guy who got them McDonald's, the one who danced with them while yelling how beautiful they looked during an Akon song, or the one who held their hair back while they got violently ill, a drunk white girl at her peak of inebriation can often believe that there is only one way to repay a kind man. And those kind men know this. So all drunk white girls have an unspoken code to try and protect each other from sleazy guys, though this often does not pan out as well as hoped
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
drama.
02/03/2009
picture a scene from an old movie
picture the most glamorous set
a heroine so beautiful
that the background music
sounds like weeping
she moves perfectly in time
to the violin tears
her long beautiful gown
floating softly with her steps
and the hero steps forwards
as dashing as he's ever been
he rushes towards her
you've not a doubt in your mind
that he loves her passionately
and is set out to prove it
with his very next line.
and he speaks words so sweetly
ivory keys cry out softly
he draws her so close and
brushes her hair out of her face
in waves, like the ivory tears,
down in gentle waves.
as the shot grows much closer
you can see the hero's eyes
tearing up slightly as he whispers
and all of a sudden it changes
the atmosphere it changes
as the shot grows closer you see his eyes
and for the first time you see the hero
and you see that he is acting.
he continues to recite his lines convincingly
so very much so that your heart catches
and you grow sickeningly nervous
hoping that the poor heroine is an actress too
please let her be in on this
as your view shifts to the heroine
you see she is no actress
but she is certainly no idiot
and she can see the cue cards on his mind
she says "i am no juliet, and this is no stage.
i'm much less naive and much more of age.
you have no idea the things you speak of,
and it hurts my feet walking these tightropes."
shocked by something so unscripted,
he tries once more to draw her near.
she shakes her head, her eyes tear up,
and the camera shakes,
the violin weeps,
she's beautiful sad,
but she looks so weak.
she whispers, "i am not your heroine."
picture a scene from an old movie
picture the most glamorous set
a heroine so beautiful
that the background music
sounds like weeping
she moves perfectly in time
to the violin tears
her long beautiful gown
floating softly with her steps
and the hero steps forwards
as dashing as he's ever been
he rushes towards her
you've not a doubt in your mind
that he loves her passionately
and is set out to prove it
with his very next line.
and he speaks words so sweetly
ivory keys cry out softly
he draws her so close and
brushes her hair out of her face
in waves, like the ivory tears,
down in gentle waves.
as the shot grows much closer
you can see the hero's eyes
tearing up slightly as he whispers
and all of a sudden it changes
the atmosphere it changes
as the shot grows closer you see his eyes
and for the first time you see the hero
and you see that he is acting.
he continues to recite his lines convincingly
so very much so that your heart catches
and you grow sickeningly nervous
hoping that the poor heroine is an actress too
please let her be in on this
as your view shifts to the heroine
you see she is no actress
but she is certainly no idiot
and she can see the cue cards on his mind
she says "i am no juliet, and this is no stage.
i'm much less naive and much more of age.
you have no idea the things you speak of,
and it hurts my feet walking these tightropes."
shocked by something so unscripted,
he tries once more to draw her near.
she shakes her head, her eyes tear up,
and the camera shakes,
the violin weeps,
she's beautiful sad,
but she looks so weak.
she whispers, "i am not your heroine."
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