where do i reside, you ask? thats easy. in my sister's shadow. i promise you, you have never seen anything like her before. she is flawless. i know what you're thinking but keep that cliche "no one's perfect" to yourself. she isn't perfect but her flaws only add to how wonderful she is. try living with that for a year. it goes without saying that she is beautiful, doesn't it? well, of course, she is. the type of pretty that makes it a struggle to look away. pretty isn't the best description. exotic is more precise. this means that she is so beautiful, it crosses borders, racial boundaries and any other obstacles. from her kinky, curly hair to that button nose and full lips that resemble a boat. she isn't skinny, so that the fatties can't hate her. she isn't big either, just right so she can fill out her pretty outfits perfectly. Perfect. Her olive skin tone is like a welcome mat, inviting everyone in.
Personality? oh, she's absolutely charming. fun as all get out. just elusive enough to draw people in to her mystery yet accesible enough to be honored by her presence. she is the type that hardly ever shows up for anything you invite her to "aww babe...i'd love to but i've gotta..." but will have you cancel your plans to simply run errands with her when she asks.
i try not to take it too personally that i am not my parents favorite. its nothing that they've said aloud, of course. in fact, they try hard not to make it obvious, sometimes overcompensating with loads of attention and affection. but that only proves my thesis more. my sister, libby is her name, has the nerve to be talented as well. she can perform (sing, dance, act). this simple fact is what makes her mediocre grades seem like no big deal, something to make her more endearing to her future audience when she's a celebrity. see what i was saying about the advantage of her flaws?
what do i contribute to this family of mine when they seem to have it all with their first born? im funny, sarcastic and/or witty. i have personal style (but i guess i have to with a sister like libby). i don't complain a lot. im not like that whiny Jan squeaking out "libby, libby libby!" i play my position and try not to make waves. do i like it? of course not, and you wouldn't either. no matter what kind of cool exterior you paint on, deep inside it is impossible not to resent having a sister with star quality as big as libby's. to know that for the rest of your life, you will be one of those back up singers dressed in black that helps contribute but is not truly necessary. your like the cranberry sauce to the turkey. Perhaps you will be missed by a few but Thanksgiving will go on (and successfully, most likely) without you.
there are perks to having a libby around. she can charm the pants or skirts off of any authority figure ready to lay down the law. plus, i've gone to some pretty amazing events i wouldn't have otherwise have access to because of her. therefore, i get to meet some pretty amazing people who wouldn't normally give me time of day. libby is not stingy with her popularity. because its second nature (and not threatened to end anytime soon), she does not covet or appreciate it. once given the opportunity to get in, i always hold my own and keep my spot because of the above mentioned wit and style. and btw, im no dog either. although i could never compare to my sibling, the mazzarelli's are no ugly bunch. if libby is a ten, (she has to be at least a 12 in reality) then i am a decent seven.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
noelle starr-the silk interview
i know you've read enough of these to know how it usually goes. reporter waits in a quaint coffee shop for the It Girl/starlet/pop sensation. its the type of establishment that proves it girl is not unlike one of us; she prefers small venues and hasn't let fame change her a bit. however, she gracefully shuffles in an hour late at least with an apologetic smile and the new 8,000 it bag. noelle starr is a bit different, though. she chooses the cheesecake factory just outside the city for our first meeting. i thought it was odd and overanalyzed the choice for two straight days. but was more fascinating was that she was early. i was the late one. just by five rbecause of my mother who wouldn't let me get off the phone and my lack of luck with the red lights. im defensive perhaps, but the point is i was only five minutes late and noelle sat in a back booth distractedly chowing down on an order of chicken dumplings. clearly, she had been there for awhile. for just a minute, minus the stunning beauty, noelle doesn't look like a starr, but more like a normal, hungry girl.
maybe its because she hasn't been famous for long enough. she has been dabbling in acting and modelling for three or four years now, most notable, her performance as a teenage runaway in the indie film, winded. there were a few roles as the angry teenage daughter in a few barely successful romantic comedies (maybe you remember her endearing scene with hugh grant last year in Love Square?). but then came what artists call the big break. famed director, dave orman jumped on board to direct the much anticipated film, Dirty Dozen based on the teen novel series of the same name, and handpicked noelle to be the leading lady. if you don't know about the Dirty Dozen Series then 1. you must be seriously uncool, dude and 2. you better ask your teenage niece or nephew immediately.
after sitting at the booth with a sheepish smile and mumble my apologies, i take note of ms. starr. she is wearing the normal new york uniform, a black turtleneck (that looks straight out of Banana Republic) and black leggings with low top chuck taylors. i can't tell if she's not into fashion, which is what she told teen vogue in their september issue) or if she is so chic she makes it look effortless. she seems very aware of herself, methodically planning out her answers to my questions. when asked what she thinks of the character she portrays in DD, she responds after swallowing her lemonade
"fiona is unapologetic about who she is and what she wants. thats what i admire about her most. on the other hand, i completely loathe how dependent she is on marco. i understand WHY she's like that but would never condone that, you know? if she were my friend, my suggestion would be to get a life."
then she pushes her stylish bob behind her shoulders and takes another bite of her entree (chicken avocado salad) as if thats the end of that subject. so i move on to juicier issues. its been reported that she and co-star/hunk mico sanchez are the new item, despite him being six years older than the seventeen year old.
"so what was it like working with mico as your love interest?" i innocently ask, warming up to the real question.
she gives me a small sly grin, no, more like a smirk before she places her fork down to reply.
"mico was great. he really was helpful since he has a bit more experience with big budget movies than i do...we had a lot of fun."
that doesn't confirm anything so i continue on, its my job, for petesake.
"there were a lot of rumors circling about the two of you being more than just co-stars. im sure you've heard..."
noelle picks up her martini and looks over at the display of cheesecake before giving her last response to my annoying curiosity.
"there will ALWAYS be rumors. mico and i are friends, he's a great guy." end of story, she might as well add. but after this interview and before this story is published, gossip websites everywhere will have pictures of the two kissing, holding hands and giving affectionate stares you only give your significant other everywhere. but for now, mum is the word. i move on to even more touchy territory, her off screen battles and rivalry with co-star, megan bullock. on this topic, noelle is surprisingly chatty.
"there are people in the world who can't stand to share the spotlight. even if they have everything, they still don't want to see you get anything" her voice is louder and filled with hurt.
"nasty things were said about me in the press that were totally not true. i find it completely unprofessional for someone who has been in this industry for this long. but, i won't stoop to her level. i have no comment about that girl."
noelle is no doubt referring to the comment megan made on a late night talk show about noelle's lack of talent. it went something like this 'when i read the novel, i knew that I WAS fiona. I knew i had the chops to do it. but...someeone else (who has like almost no experience and hadn't even read the book or any book for that matter) swoops in and lands it. some roles aren't based on your talent in the audition but your talent elsewhere...youknowwhatimsayin?" the fights that were reported about the battles over dressing room, make up people and ultimately mico kept access hollywood and entertainment tonight in business for months. but thats what megan bullock is all about. its what she thrives on...no one should take it personally, but noelle is new and doesn't know that yet.
noelle tells me about her mother, after getting a text from her. she's a nyc assistant teacher who sacrificed a lot to get her daughter where she is today. based on the description, i take a logical guess and ask if her mother was a performer herself. noelle swears that im psychic but goes on to tell me what a great singer her mom is. she use to sing at dfferent venues on the lower east side before she married noelle's father. dad is a sticky subject since its been reported that he was arrested last year for some sketchy business dealings. noelle doesn't mind discussing him since she says she doesn't have any dealings with him and hasn't for the last four years of her life. she looks sad but strong when she talks about it. i kind of get the feeling that her disappointment in fiona's flaw stems from daddy issues. she is unwilling to be dependent and then ultimately disappointed.
we finish the meal and pay the check and i feel that we have bonded a bit, as much as a reporter and a new it girl actress can bond. is she for real. im not sure if i have been charmed by the likes of a starr. i mean their whole career is about sucking us in. however, the following week when i see a glam noelle at the photo shoot, she jumps out the make-up chair to hug me hello. she just may be the real thing, i decide.
it went something like this. "
maybe its because she hasn't been famous for long enough. she has been dabbling in acting and modelling for three or four years now, most notable, her performance as a teenage runaway in the indie film, winded. there were a few roles as the angry teenage daughter in a few barely successful romantic comedies (maybe you remember her endearing scene with hugh grant last year in Love Square?). but then came what artists call the big break. famed director, dave orman jumped on board to direct the much anticipated film, Dirty Dozen based on the teen novel series of the same name, and handpicked noelle to be the leading lady. if you don't know about the Dirty Dozen Series then 1. you must be seriously uncool, dude and 2. you better ask your teenage niece or nephew immediately.
after sitting at the booth with a sheepish smile and mumble my apologies, i take note of ms. starr. she is wearing the normal new york uniform, a black turtleneck (that looks straight out of Banana Republic) and black leggings with low top chuck taylors. i can't tell if she's not into fashion, which is what she told teen vogue in their september issue) or if she is so chic she makes it look effortless. she seems very aware of herself, methodically planning out her answers to my questions. when asked what she thinks of the character she portrays in DD, she responds after swallowing her lemonade
"fiona is unapologetic about who she is and what she wants. thats what i admire about her most. on the other hand, i completely loathe how dependent she is on marco. i understand WHY she's like that but would never condone that, you know? if she were my friend, my suggestion would be to get a life."
then she pushes her stylish bob behind her shoulders and takes another bite of her entree (chicken avocado salad) as if thats the end of that subject. so i move on to juicier issues. its been reported that she and co-star/hunk mico sanchez are the new item, despite him being six years older than the seventeen year old.
"so what was it like working with mico as your love interest?" i innocently ask, warming up to the real question.
she gives me a small sly grin, no, more like a smirk before she places her fork down to reply.
"mico was great. he really was helpful since he has a bit more experience with big budget movies than i do...we had a lot of fun."
that doesn't confirm anything so i continue on, its my job, for petesake.
"there were a lot of rumors circling about the two of you being more than just co-stars. im sure you've heard..."
noelle picks up her martini and looks over at the display of cheesecake before giving her last response to my annoying curiosity.
"there will ALWAYS be rumors. mico and i are friends, he's a great guy." end of story, she might as well add. but after this interview and before this story is published, gossip websites everywhere will have pictures of the two kissing, holding hands and giving affectionate stares you only give your significant other everywhere. but for now, mum is the word. i move on to even more touchy territory, her off screen battles and rivalry with co-star, megan bullock. on this topic, noelle is surprisingly chatty.
"there are people in the world who can't stand to share the spotlight. even if they have everything, they still don't want to see you get anything" her voice is louder and filled with hurt.
"nasty things were said about me in the press that were totally not true. i find it completely unprofessional for someone who has been in this industry for this long. but, i won't stoop to her level. i have no comment about that girl."
noelle is no doubt referring to the comment megan made on a late night talk show about noelle's lack of talent. it went something like this 'when i read the novel, i knew that I WAS fiona. I knew i had the chops to do it. but...someeone else (who has like almost no experience and hadn't even read the book or any book for that matter) swoops in and lands it. some roles aren't based on your talent in the audition but your talent elsewhere...youknowwhatimsayin?" the fights that were reported about the battles over dressing room, make up people and ultimately mico kept access hollywood and entertainment tonight in business for months. but thats what megan bullock is all about. its what she thrives on...no one should take it personally, but noelle is new and doesn't know that yet.
noelle tells me about her mother, after getting a text from her. she's a nyc assistant teacher who sacrificed a lot to get her daughter where she is today. based on the description, i take a logical guess and ask if her mother was a performer herself. noelle swears that im psychic but goes on to tell me what a great singer her mom is. she use to sing at dfferent venues on the lower east side before she married noelle's father. dad is a sticky subject since its been reported that he was arrested last year for some sketchy business dealings. noelle doesn't mind discussing him since she says she doesn't have any dealings with him and hasn't for the last four years of her life. she looks sad but strong when she talks about it. i kind of get the feeling that her disappointment in fiona's flaw stems from daddy issues. she is unwilling to be dependent and then ultimately disappointed.
we finish the meal and pay the check and i feel that we have bonded a bit, as much as a reporter and a new it girl actress can bond. is she for real. im not sure if i have been charmed by the likes of a starr. i mean their whole career is about sucking us in. however, the following week when i see a glam noelle at the photo shoot, she jumps out the make-up chair to hug me hello. she just may be the real thing, i decide.
it went something like this. "
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
286 Early Bird
i was awakened at the crack of dawn by a loud slam. it was my parents' bedroom door. then i heard it open with a dramatic jerk. no, you don't walk out on me when im talking to you. you don't get to close the door on me, jon. it was my mother, highly distraught (as usual). her emotions, her grief, her desperation were bubbling over and foaming out of her mouth. i quickly crept closer to the door so i wouldn't miss a word. my mom and dad's relationship was like a car accident, or scary movie to me. i so did not want to know what was going on. i knew i would be better off without hearing or seeing the details. Yet, it seemed i couldn't help myself. Like a little private eye, i was collecting all of the evidence and piecing together the whole sordid story.
you don't get to creep into the house at this hour without even an explanation. are you listening to me, you ungrateful bastard?
i heard another crash, like glass hurdled at a wall.
libby, stop it, please! that was my dad. back in his patient, calm voice, he continued...
i don't want to do this anymore. i can't pretend.
i cracked my bedroom door open to get a glimpse of my personal soap opera, The Old & Dramatic. my mother had resigned to the first step of stairs, sobbing uncontrollably. she really did look like an middle aged stunning soap star in her silky pink robe and pin curled hair. my father was still dressed in his slim suit and carrying his briefcase.
you're out of control, libby. i'll give you some time. i'll be back later this evening for my things.
asshole! was my mother's reply as dad disappeared down the narrow staircase and into his car. it had become clear to me about six months ago that my mom and dad had serious problems. as far as i could see, it started with a cloud of tension that would hang in the air like a threatening storm. but just like the unpredictable weather in the suburbs of philly, the sun would shine through as if there had never been a problem. it was easy to convince myself that nothing was wrong. that feeling was either in my imagination or was something all families dealt with on a bad day. later on, there would be major, gigantic fights over the dumbest, miniscule things. World War III could erupt from something as simple as why my dad was late picking me up from play practice. Or why my mom was calling his job when he told her he would be in an important meeting. These altercations would always lead to screaming at the top of parties involved's lungs for hours, lots of door slamming and dish throwing. Major Drama! The worst was yet to come, though. mr. preston, my social studies teacher, calls it the Cold War. this is when my parents refuse to speak to each other. not one word. if my mom needs my father to write out a check for something important, she will write it on a Post-It and hang it on the fridge. if my dad needs my mom to run some errand, he tells me to tell her. Until tonight, our status at home had been the Cold War era.
it was easy to deduct my mom suspects my father of cheating. i suspected the same. he was definitely different. it was like he was here but not here, if that makes any sense. at the same time, i could truly understand how dad might feel the need to flee from mom. on most days, i want to escape myself. she can be...well, overbearing. i think its because she doesn't have that much going on. she doesn't have that many friends anymore. she doesn't have a job either. mom says that she use to be an assistant for a very important man in showbiz. she says that dad was jealous so she gave it up to take care of us.
my mother ws still lamenting (i suppose) on the top of the staircase so i came out. i didn't know what to say, really. i hoped that by the time i got close to her i would have an answer but i didn't. she was sitting with her hand holding her head up in defeat but she tried to gather herself when she felt my presence.
oh, sherry...i didn't know you were up. i was just, i hope you didn't hear that.
not much, i said even though i had heard more than enough. of course, she realized this. my mom looked up at me as if she didn't recognize me, the real me her daughter. her eyes seemed to see something new but familiar to her.
he is such a jerk, sherry. she said quietly how did i end up marrying such a big jerk?
i didn't know. was dad a jerk? wasn't sure how i felt about that assumption. up to that point, i thought i felt all men who cheated were jerks. mom was crying silently, beautifully. drops of sorrow fell from her angled cheekbones. i shrugged.
i know he's an asshole but i don't want to give up. im way too tired to start over again, ya know?
i nodded although i knew she would always do fine, no matter what the circumstances.
mom turned to me with purpose.
sherry, never sacrifice who you are for any man. its NEVER worth it. her sapphire eyes grew wide with panic. promise me.
i shook my head but she didn't appear to be satisfied. i promise, mom.
ok, get back to bed, hon. you have school in a couple of hours.
i hugged my impossible mother, feeling actual sympathy for her. in bed, i closed my eyes knowing that i would be awakening not to a loud crash, but a new day, a new life.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
dance lessons #108
Sometimes it takes more than once for me to learn a lesson. I feel that if I reason with someone and use logical explanations, said person will get it. I understand they may not quite agree with me but they will see my point at least. Well, apparently, that ain't the case. Especially with my mother. Its been four years of me reiterating that Im no ballerina. Yet, its been four years of me donning a leotard, slippers and oh so flattering white tights, twirling around Mrs. Meester's School of Dance. The most disgusting part is the bi-annual recitals we MUST put on in January and June. I've tried to compromise, asking Mom if I could at least take something more interesting, more me like hip-hop or reggae. She gave me her most condescending smile "No one needs to take a class like that, Nina" and continued sipping her skinny latte.
My mother doesn't know me at all. And the sad part is, she's not interested in knowing me; instead, she wants to create me like Im her own personal Frankenstein. We see how well that turned out. Actually, I've never really seen or read Frankenstein so Im guessing things went wrong. Im not into horror movies. Watching lunatics and zombies chase and then violently kill some teenagers. Not my thing; i'd rather choke on my own spit, which coincidentally, how i feel about going to ballet three times a week. Im like totally into hip-hop (and R&B). Give me some 50, give me some T.I or even some Mary and im happy. But of course, 'Mother' is not tryna hear it.
Today just happens to be June 5th, the day of my recital. its a beautiful friday and I just got out of school. The plan was for me to head to the dance studio and get in some stretches and a run through, head home for some homework and Mom would drive me to the recital tonight. But I can't. I just can't waste another day of my life on that garbage, especially not this gorgeous, sunny Friday full of possibilities. One being that Lucky (thats my crush, he is so f-ing hot) asked me what I was doing today afterschool. As I gathered my books at my locker, Lucky made his way over. He has that perfect, cool, relaxed walk that I love him for. "So whats up? We chillin'?" he asked. and whats a girl to do? I nodded my head (cooly, I hope) and said "Yeah." "Cool." he replied.
My mother doesn't know me at all. And the sad part is, she's not interested in knowing me; instead, she wants to create me like Im her own personal Frankenstein. We see how well that turned out. Actually, I've never really seen or read Frankenstein so Im guessing things went wrong. Im not into horror movies. Watching lunatics and zombies chase and then violently kill some teenagers. Not my thing; i'd rather choke on my own spit, which coincidentally, how i feel about going to ballet three times a week. Im like totally into hip-hop (and R&B). Give me some 50, give me some T.I or even some Mary and im happy. But of course, 'Mother' is not tryna hear it.
Today just happens to be June 5th, the day of my recital. its a beautiful friday and I just got out of school. The plan was for me to head to the dance studio and get in some stretches and a run through, head home for some homework and Mom would drive me to the recital tonight. But I can't. I just can't waste another day of my life on that garbage, especially not this gorgeous, sunny Friday full of possibilities. One being that Lucky (thats my crush, he is so f-ing hot) asked me what I was doing today afterschool. As I gathered my books at my locker, Lucky made his way over. He has that perfect, cool, relaxed walk that I love him for. "So whats up? We chillin'?" he asked. and whats a girl to do? I nodded my head (cooly, I hope) and said "Yeah." "Cool." he replied.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Gender Bender #201
Today is my last day on the job. Im a very important person at the Palazzo Publishing House. I've been a head receptionist here for fifteen years. Really, I don't know what they're going to do without me. Well, if Dan (thats Mr. O'Reilly to you) asks for my help, I have no choice but to come to the rescue. Dan is the head of the publishing house. He's in love with me, you know. A beautiful woman can always tell these things. He's married, of course. To this blonde bimbo who supposedly use to be a famous model. I get practically every fashion magazine there is and I can tell you I've never seen her grace a page. She's...cute...if you like the obviously exaggerated pretty type. But Dan, well maybe at first he was into that shallow beauty thing, but now that he's older, Im sure he appreciates qualities like grace, intelligence and class. I can see it in his face that he regrets marrying her. But, whats done is done...
So today is my last day here and i can honestly say i am not going to miss this place (with the exception of my Danny). I especially am not going to miss seeing the Bobsey twins, Maribella and Stephanie (who names their child Stephanie nowadays? so unoriginal!). Maribella is my protege, so to speak. They hired her to help me out when the publishing house took off. But between you and me, she is the absolutely worst. Reminds me of a robot, efficient and quick but no personality...no ummfph! She's all 'Yes, Mr. O'Reilly', 'Right away, Mr. OReilly' 'I thought you might need this file, Mr. O'Reilly.' Makes me sick, if i could be blunt. She's not fooling me. I know that she's after my lil' Danny. With her pencil skirt and little blouses. And those annoying little glasses. Doesn't even wear heels! All women should wear heels, especially in a professional setting. I guess she thinks because she's five feet eleven, she can leave the heels to the little people like me. Or maybe the young girls don't believe in high heels now.
Not that Im old. Im only...forty-five...well, okay forty-seven but I guarantee you, I don't look a day over thirty two. Everyone tells me so. I am very picky about what I eat, no carbs, no sugar, no red meat. Im in Pilates classes twice a week (I hear thats how Madonna and that cute girl from Friends stay so beautiful). Plus, I've been using Oil of Olay since I was fifteen.
Speaking of my diet, I hope that my retirement party later on is not full of those God awful cupcakes and artificial fruit juice that the office parties here are infamous for. I don't want to seem ungrateful but I don't want to ruin this figure for anybody. I can tell its going to be one of those surprise parties because so far everyone is pretending they don't remember its my last day. Im guessing that it will be after lunch. That way I can work on my cute but surprised and appreciative face. Most will be sad to see me go. I am the life of the party here whether or not you like my coffee or my "unfriendly demeanor." Mirabella will be doing mental cartwheels when Im gone. That way she can have my man all to herself and move up to head receptionist. Stephanie, too cause then she'll have Mirabella's spot.
But what do I care? I'll be doing more important things...things i've always wanted to but couldn't because of my dedication to Palazzo. Im thinking of taking a cruise but I just wish I had a good girlfriend (or even better, a good man friend) to keep me company. I can get started writing my memoir (Danny said he'd be happy to take a look at it when Im done). Plus, my cats will be thrilled to have me around more. They, too, can't live without me.
Anyway, its almost lunch time now. Time to make my way to the lil girls room, fix my face and get ready for this afternoon's festivities. Caio!
So today is my last day here and i can honestly say i am not going to miss this place (with the exception of my Danny). I especially am not going to miss seeing the Bobsey twins, Maribella and Stephanie (who names their child Stephanie nowadays? so unoriginal!). Maribella is my protege, so to speak. They hired her to help me out when the publishing house took off. But between you and me, she is the absolutely worst. Reminds me of a robot, efficient and quick but no personality...no ummfph! She's all 'Yes, Mr. O'Reilly', 'Right away, Mr. OReilly' 'I thought you might need this file, Mr. O'Reilly.' Makes me sick, if i could be blunt. She's not fooling me. I know that she's after my lil' Danny. With her pencil skirt and little blouses. And those annoying little glasses. Doesn't even wear heels! All women should wear heels, especially in a professional setting. I guess she thinks because she's five feet eleven, she can leave the heels to the little people like me. Or maybe the young girls don't believe in high heels now.
Not that Im old. Im only...forty-five...well, okay forty-seven but I guarantee you, I don't look a day over thirty two. Everyone tells me so. I am very picky about what I eat, no carbs, no sugar, no red meat. Im in Pilates classes twice a week (I hear thats how Madonna and that cute girl from Friends stay so beautiful). Plus, I've been using Oil of Olay since I was fifteen.
Speaking of my diet, I hope that my retirement party later on is not full of those God awful cupcakes and artificial fruit juice that the office parties here are infamous for. I don't want to seem ungrateful but I don't want to ruin this figure for anybody. I can tell its going to be one of those surprise parties because so far everyone is pretending they don't remember its my last day. Im guessing that it will be after lunch. That way I can work on my cute but surprised and appreciative face. Most will be sad to see me go. I am the life of the party here whether or not you like my coffee or my "unfriendly demeanor." Mirabella will be doing mental cartwheels when Im gone. That way she can have my man all to herself and move up to head receptionist. Stephanie, too cause then she'll have Mirabella's spot.
But what do I care? I'll be doing more important things...things i've always wanted to but couldn't because of my dedication to Palazzo. Im thinking of taking a cruise but I just wish I had a good girlfriend (or even better, a good man friend) to keep me company. I can get started writing my memoir (Danny said he'd be happy to take a look at it when Im done). Plus, my cats will be thrilled to have me around more. They, too, can't live without me.
Anyway, its almost lunch time now. Time to make my way to the lil girls room, fix my face and get ready for this afternoon's festivities. Caio!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
revenge of the journal #75
Dear Rose:
It has been torture listening to you bellyache for the past year; pure torture. Everday, you manage to come up with more complaints, more woe is me, more drivel. You are eighteen years old now...please grow up. And here we are now, on this last day of the year, New Year's Eve. You have made your last entry in me and I say, hallelulujah, praise the Lord. We're done. Same thing i bet your poor boyfriend is saying now that he's transferred to a new university. Oh, he says its for the "better" engineering program but im pretty sure its about putting plenty of space between the two of you. i don't know how he has put up with you for this long.
By the way, how is the diet coming along? Splendidly, Im sure, since i saw you shoving that enormous piece of German chocolate cake down your pie hole last night. Every other day, you come to me whining about your thunder thighs and fat ass. Then, you begin to bore me with the details of the next great diet you will take on. It always ends the same, you raiding the refrigerator when you think no one is looking. I have news for you. Im always watching! Kind of like the way you always watch your best friend's boyfriend. Oh, you thought no one noticed. The horrid thing about it is that you don't really want him; you just can't stand to see anyone else happy, especially your own best friend. You are so jealous of her. She's cute. She's smart. And here's the kicker...she's nice, genuinely nice. I say she's a saint to willingly put up with you. But finally, she's come to her senses...finally, you've pushed her to the limit. Spreading all of those nasty rumors about her...tsk tsk tsk...that was low, even for your standards. Guess you never thought it would all come back to you, huh? But it did, and now the entire school, in fact, the entire community, sees you for the cold hearted chunky bitch you are. and who do you haveto run to? Certainly not me because we are through in 5...4...3...2...1 HAPPY NEW YEAR, BITCHES!!!!
It has been torture listening to you bellyache for the past year; pure torture. Everday, you manage to come up with more complaints, more woe is me, more drivel. You are eighteen years old now...please grow up. And here we are now, on this last day of the year, New Year's Eve. You have made your last entry in me and I say, hallelulujah, praise the Lord. We're done. Same thing i bet your poor boyfriend is saying now that he's transferred to a new university. Oh, he says its for the "better" engineering program but im pretty sure its about putting plenty of space between the two of you. i don't know how he has put up with you for this long.
By the way, how is the diet coming along? Splendidly, Im sure, since i saw you shoving that enormous piece of German chocolate cake down your pie hole last night. Every other day, you come to me whining about your thunder thighs and fat ass. Then, you begin to bore me with the details of the next great diet you will take on. It always ends the same, you raiding the refrigerator when you think no one is looking. I have news for you. Im always watching! Kind of like the way you always watch your best friend's boyfriend. Oh, you thought no one noticed. The horrid thing about it is that you don't really want him; you just can't stand to see anyone else happy, especially your own best friend. You are so jealous of her. She's cute. She's smart. And here's the kicker...she's nice, genuinely nice. I say she's a saint to willingly put up with you. But finally, she's come to her senses...finally, you've pushed her to the limit. Spreading all of those nasty rumors about her...tsk tsk tsk...that was low, even for your standards. Guess you never thought it would all come back to you, huh? But it did, and now the entire school, in fact, the entire community, sees you for the cold hearted chunky bitch you are. and who do you haveto run to? Certainly not me because we are through in 5...4...3...2...1 HAPPY NEW YEAR, BITCHES!!!!
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