The rubric has lists of everything we’re supposed to be looking for, and we’re supposed to look for the prices. I have family members who could be able to do most of things on that list for free.
Spend more then $400 for a wedding?
Everyone I know is at a huge party I would have liked to go to, but I'm home watching Arsenic and Old Lace.
My feelings exactly, Mr. Grant.
To hell with it. I’m probably the only one that’s going to remember Friday night. Plus, I think this movie has some of the most FANTASTIC scenes! :D
Reverend Harper: Have you ever tried to persuade him that he wasn’t Teddy Roosevelt? Abby Brewster: Oh, no. Martha Brewster: Oh, he’s so happy being Teddy Roosevelt. Abby Brewster: Oh… Do you remember, Martha, once, a long time ago, we thought if he’d be George Washington, it might be a change for him, and we suggested it. Martha Brewster: And do you know what happened? He just stayed under his bed for days and wouldn’t be anybody.
Mortimer Brewster: Look I probably should have told you this before but you see… well… insanity runs in my family… It practically gallops.
That awkward moment when you realize you're not okay with shipping a 100+ year old vampire with a 17 year old girl, but you're totally fine with shipping a 900+ year old time lord with a 23 year old girl.
After a super nerdy study session with my gloriously nerdy friends, I was feeling very productive. Following through with that whim, I decided I would go to Barnes & Noble and get a book dedicated to what we’re studying for. After finally finding it, I schmooze around the journals and kinda wish for a couple of them before finally going to pay.
So I’m in line, all - “YEAH, waiting in line to pay for mah super nerdy book!” I hear the cashier call next, so I walk toward him toward him with a little spring in my step ‘cause I’m happy about my nerdy-ness.
MY LUCK. MY FLIPPING LUCK. The guy has GLORIOUS facial hair; I immediately revert to “I-am-so-akward-that-I-no-longer-remember-how-to-say-words” and just twist my ring with my fingers, try to avoid eye-contact, and attempt to muscle up a smile and a “Hi” (which was a futile effort). He apparently senses my “shyness” and FLIRTS. This just makes my AwkwardFeeling Generator go in to triple overtime. At this point, I am doing old habits that I thought I had gotten the better of; tugging on my hair, biting my sleeves, twisting my feet, and a whole bunch of other stuff. He tries to be nice and funny, and I even laughed. But the whole time - MY FACE WAS ON FIRE. He wasn’t even all that attractive, facial hair aside.
Evidently, I’m so NOT used to guys flirting, I go into horrible fits of awkward. What kills me is that I USED TO BE AMAZING AT FLIRTING!! Yup, that’s right, I was a natural, and now I can’t even conjure up words successfully. Poop. I’m just going to live my life through books and cats, I guess. :)
I always want to just spew my feelings out everywhere, and just tell the world about every single thing that happens in my life, even if I know that NO ONE cares. But I guess there is just another part of my that really doesn’t want that. I keep all my feelings and all the things I really want to tell people boxed up, and then I just still there and boil over.
It’s what I’ve been taught to do since I learned to speak, keep my mouth shut. But I just want to run up to people and tell them every single thought that pops up in my mind, making sure they listen to it all. But I’m just too scared to speak? Or is it that I’m too passive?
Lots of people I know seem to not have this problem. Pretty sure it’s just a “me” thing.
WTPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. LSERO;IERO ERFIEQOIRFOEDFKJEBF OQ;ERJF ADLSFHMYMOTHERPISSESMEOFFSOMUCHLASEDFOHD UGH. I can’t be with her in a room for more than 10 minutes without her mentioning my weight, or my face, or my weight again. REALLY!? Like I don’t ALREADY feel like a bag of lard ready to smother the next person that I touch, I need to feel three times as worse when I eat ANYTHING in my house.
If I eat a cracker, she complains, if I eat a carrot, she complains, if I drink water, she complains. No mother, I am not like you. I haven’t starved myself to the point that I only eat every other day. That is not healthy. Maybe that’s why your digestive system is so screwed that no amount of fiber can ever make you crap naturally again.
It’s not even like I eat that much!!! I’m just not allowed to do anything, so all I can really do is sit in bed. And of course, she complains when I’m on my bed, BUT WHAT THE HELL ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!? You don’t allow me to leave this house!!! Am I supposed to frolic in the living room? Oh right, I can’t, because no one can go in there, except for special occasions. What about the kitchen? Nope, according to YOU, I am only feeding my hideous body with things that would provide me with energy to go about with NOT DYING.
You know what’s even worse than all of this? She doesn’t even seem to care one BIT about what the hell is going through my mind when she’s saying any of this. Yes, please, the look on my face is BEGGING for you to keep on talking about how no one will ever want a girl as disgusting as me. YES, I’ve been CRAVING for another lecture on how I deserve to die because I’m so sickening and deplorable, how nothing I will ever do will be worth anything. I’ve been HANKERING for another dosage of how it’s impossible that you could have raised something as pathetic as me. YES, MORE PLEASE!
Thanks, mother. No matter how well my day goes, I can always count on you to fuck it up.