These are not spirit fingers. THESE are spirit fingers.

13 Apr

There are chocolate eggs on my television.

Mostly because my sister wasn’t here yesterday morning to help me collect them. I know, it’s retarded that my mother stuff hides chocolate crunch eggs around the living room, but hey, it’s nostalgic.

But my sister as at church yesterday morning, so there was no point in collecting them all for myself, because then it would completely gluttonous. We’ve just been gradually eating them throughout the day. I’m actually quite glad that we didn’t collect them all yesterday, because then we’d be consuming even more calories than we did yesterday.

It was ridiculous.

Deviled eggs, quiche, cheese potatoes, massive amounts of apricot-mustard glazed ham, carrots (the one somewhat healthy thing) and lemonade cake.

It was really good.

But I feel so fat and bloated today. Not only did we eat so much cheese, salty ham makes you retain water, so I’ve basically been expending liquid all day. And dealing with my neurotic dog.

I swear she has anxiety problems. I honestly don’t know what the hell her problem is half the time. I took her to the vet today to get an allergy shot, and she was whining even before we left, and even moreso once we got there. I don’t blame her for that, since she’s had a couple bad nail-clip experiences at the vet. She’s been napping the whole time since we’ve been home pretty much. I wish I had the luxury to nap all the time.

We should have brought her to Grandpa’s house yesterday to play with Lucy, but there were too many people there, and not enough room in the car with all the food. Millie would have had fun though, cause Lucy’s getting quite big. She’s almost too big to hold in your lap anymore. Which is why I took advantage of her size yesterday, and held her whenever I could.

God, my lips are chapped right now.

Nevermind, but I hate mondays. It serves a rest, homework day before classes tomorrow, but I really haven’t done any homework today. I’ve been doing dishes, working on my novel, and I just watched Bring it On on Encore.

If you just said those last three words, you say “on on on” three times on a row. Wow.

I forgot how inexplicably entertaining that movie was. It’s nine years old, and yet it’s still funny. And at the time, I had a major crush on Jesse Bradford, who appeared in all of like…three movies that I ever saw. Bring it On, Clockstoppers (the lame time-bending Nickelodeon movie), and Swimfan (stalker thriller which featured Bradford shirtless most of the movie). I actually just realized that he was Balthasar in Romeo + Juliet.

He’s nice to look at, now that I think about it.

But I love Bring it On. It’s so campy and absurd, but hilarious. And it was before Kirsten Dunst became Kirsten Drunkst, the twat.

“These are not spirit fingers. THESE are spirit fingers. And THESE are GOLD.”

Such a timeless line.

I just hate all the stupid sequels they made after the original in 2000. Bring it On Again; Bring it On: All or Nothing; and Bring it On: In It To Win It.

Yeah, I only saw All or Nothing because my sister wouldn’t change the channel from ABC Family, but it’s dumb. As are, I’m guessing, the other two.

None can live up to the hilarity and originality of the first movie. Yay satire!

I should go, because I’m kind of on a roll with my novel. I finally wrote an outline, so hopefully it will give me some direction. I just hope I can fit the whole story into one novel. I’m not sure right now, but I’ll see how the first 100 pages go. Then I’ll know how the rest will go.

I can’t believe Bret chose Taya.

I hated this fake skank.

I know, it’s pathetic, but I watch Rock of Love. I honestly do, and I feel terrible for watching it, because it is what’s frying our brains, as well as our eyes from Bret Michael’s disgusting tan. Shows like this are what people talk about when they talk about the “dangers of television.” They aren’t talking about NCIS, The West Wing, or Dexter. They’re talking about shitty television about skanky chicks with fake tits trying to get famous by sleeping with grotesque has-been rock stars. And what doesn’t make sense to me is how he was ever famous. Poison SUCKED ASS. A lot. And by the look of them, probably literally. I never got why girls were into guys like this in a 80s. At least Bon Jovi was cute, and like…guy cute.

They look more female that I do.

And, is it me, or does Bret look like Renee from cycle 8 of ANTM?

It might just be me, but the lips and eyes look real similar. The chin is really the only big difference.

Weird.

❤ Abby

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