Besides Blogger being a bitca and rendering me unable to format properly in Safari (biting the hand that publishes me, no?), there's VERY IMPORTANT breaking news:
Paris. Hit. Lindsay.
x17 has the video up here.
(see how easy it is to link rather than steal? coughcoughPEREZcoughcough. Sidenote and true story: I saw that jackhole wearing an ugly scarf in the middle of August. In Los Angeles. When it's 1000+ degrees out. No thanks to global warming. Which Lindsay causes, you know.)
Meanwhile. Certain people - Joan, Krystal, everyone - know of my undying Lohan love and obsession. I hate her! I love her! She's a scoundrel! She's a saint! She's crazy! She's a genius! (apologies to Orson Welles and Citizen Kane). But seriously. Not cool, Paris. And unlike you, Lindsay has actually done something with her life. Okay?
ETA: Just Jared has pictures of that other lovely Firecrotch, Prince Harry, being all shirtless and playing Indiana Jones.. Wow. I know he's pasty and British. But hot damn. Plus, he seems cheeky and fun and if you check the CPMCoG forums, you know the boy is hung like a horse. A very well-endowed horse. Sure, he wore that Nazi uniform, but so did Rolf in SoM, right?
Shut up in advance, teenyboppers,William is rapidly balding and losing his looks...and favoring his dad's features. Also, you're not a 14-year old girl anymore.
EETA:Meanwhile, the LiLo drama (I won't dignify to call it a "feud") grows stranger as Lindsay calls Paris a "cokehead" (the Columbian calling the powder Bolivian, no?), Nicky drops the "firecrotch" bomb. Then Hilton flack/evil genius Elliot Mentz arranges for a photoop as BFFs? With Britbot? Huh? What is going on?
Nov 27, 2006
Nov 25, 2006
COBRA. third act and denoue-something.
SUPERDUPER RETCON DISCLAIMER:
These postings were written while I hadn't had a good night's sleep in DAYS. Lack of sleep makes me, well, punch-drunk (despite what H----- told you on her blog on lies, I was not ACTUALLY DRUNK while writing these entries). But, yeah, no sleep makes for a slightly manic, incoherent me. Oh, and I know nothing about football, but, man, that TV Class sure did a number when it came to analyzing advertizing and tropes and shit?
Proceed at your own risk. You may probably be offended if you're a person who knows or cares about Football, Trojans, letting quarterbacks and Joe Scarborough *not* be sexually harassed online by me, etc.
-----------------------------------------
So I recorded the last five minutes of King Cobra during halftime and will catch up on it later. Here's the psuedoliveblog wrapup:
-----
I love the word “rout.”
11/25/06 7:20:55 PM
PIZZA. FINALLY. And a drink. Finally.
Now the liveblog/recap will become even less coherent.
But more entertaining!
11/25/06 7:27:59 PM
Alls I know is that we scored while I was away.
And commentatorbot3000 says that Brady Quinn is pissed. I could always “comfort” him later. Sleeping with the enemy makes the sex SO MUCH HOTTER! (That’s why my embarrassing crush Joe Scarborough and I are gonna have bed-breaking action. Imagine all that hate and yelling channeled into more, uh, productive arenas).
COMMENTATOR: “We’ve seen [Brady] come back after taking a hard sack!”
THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!
Wait, that makes no sense.
The coaches’ nicknames are Little Tuna and Big Tuna? Are we sure I’m not accidentally watching the Office? (and Ed Helms’s brilliant turn?)
Okay, now the commentator just said “penetrating front.”
I have only had a sip of my drink. So dirty, right?
Oh, now he’s breaking out big words like “infallible.”
So…is the line “infallible” or not? I can’t tell.
INCOMPLETE! One of my favorite words. Except in a school context. Then it was bad because I had too many.
How can one take a phone call on the field? Why is it an old corded phone? Wouldn’t a cell be easier? Plus, hello, easy, breezy, beautiful product placement. The Cingular Cylon Blackjack: The Official Phone of Bradyquinn when he’s pissed.
Wow. Another incomplete. But for us. Boo.
Man, I love movie ads and their fuzzy math. I mean, yes, Bond 21 is technically the number one movie in THE WORLD. But I remember when The Breakup was like “number one comedy in the country” for weeks after it dropped from the box-office.
My TiVo is about to change to the CW (pronounced Cwah, per someone smarter than me) to record the Gilmores and Miss Mars (it was preempted on Tuesday for Clippers/Lakers).
COMMETATORBOT3K: “Long enough and he’s got it!” DIRTY!
31 USC/ 17 ND. Still no comment to prevent jinxing.
Per H-----’s question: Anyone know anything about “The Terrace” in Pasadena? There’s a band we need to see on the 8th and want details.
These postings were written while I hadn't had a good night's sleep in DAYS. Lack of sleep makes me, well, punch-drunk (despite what H----- told you on her blog on lies, I was not ACTUALLY DRUNK while writing these entries). But, yeah, no sleep makes for a slightly manic, incoherent me. Oh, and I know nothing about football, but, man, that TV Class sure did a number when it came to analyzing advertizing and tropes and shit?
Proceed at your own risk. You may probably be offended if you're a person who knows or cares about Football, Trojans, letting quarterbacks and Joe Scarborough *not* be sexually harassed online by me, etc.
-----------------------------------------
So I recorded the last five minutes of King Cobra during halftime and will catch up on it later. Here's the psuedoliveblog wrapup:
-----
I love the word “rout.”
11/25/06 7:20:55 PM
PIZZA. FINALLY. And a drink. Finally.
Now the liveblog/recap will become even less coherent.
But more entertaining!
11/25/06 7:27:59 PM
Alls I know is that we scored while I was away.
And commentatorbot3000 says that Brady Quinn is pissed. I could always “comfort” him later. Sleeping with the enemy makes the sex SO MUCH HOTTER! (That’s why my embarrassing crush Joe Scarborough and I are gonna have bed-breaking action. Imagine all that hate and yelling channeled into more, uh, productive arenas).
COMMENTATOR: “We’ve seen [Brady] come back after taking a hard sack!”
THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!
Wait, that makes no sense.
The coaches’ nicknames are Little Tuna and Big Tuna? Are we sure I’m not accidentally watching the Office? (and Ed Helms’s brilliant turn?)
Okay, now the commentator just said “penetrating front.”
I have only had a sip of my drink. So dirty, right?
Oh, now he’s breaking out big words like “infallible.”
So…is the line “infallible” or not? I can’t tell.
INCOMPLETE! One of my favorite words. Except in a school context. Then it was bad because I had too many.
How can one take a phone call on the field? Why is it an old corded phone? Wouldn’t a cell be easier? Plus, hello, easy, breezy, beautiful product placement. The Cingular Cylon Blackjack: The Official Phone of Bradyquinn when he’s pissed.
Wow. Another incomplete. But for us. Boo.
Man, I love movie ads and their fuzzy math. I mean, yes, Bond 21 is technically the number one movie in THE WORLD. But I remember when The Breakup was like “number one comedy in the country” for weeks after it dropped from the box-office.
My TiVo is about to change to the CW (pronounced Cwah, per someone smarter than me) to record the Gilmores and Miss Mars (it was preempted on Tuesday for Clippers/Lakers).
COMMETATORBOT3K: “Long enough and he’s got it!” DIRTY!
31 USC/ 17 ND. Still no comment to prevent jinxing.
Per H-----’s question: Anyone know anything about “The Terrace” in Pasadena? There’s a band we need to see on the 8th and want details.
HALFTIME COBRA
11/25/06 6:27:00 PM
“Brady Quinn brings the Irish up.”Is that different than “get your irish up?” One means fighting. Speaking of Irish. I still haven’t had a drink.
Would a Rob Roy with Dubonnet Rouge rather than Sweet Vermouth be totally gross? I don’t have soda for the New School Old-Fashioned. Yes, I invented the New School Old Fashioned.(after the game, I did).
How did I get so sweaty? I have to move. I need real AC.
Commentators make a Will Ferrell joke.
OH PLEASE LET WILL FERRELL BE THERE.
Oh, Yeah, commentators. John David Booty is shaking. Because he knows what I will do to him tonight. That’s shaking with joy. Not fear.
Why is the past footage all color-treated? Weird.
Football has too many timeouts. I went out and was able to smoke a Nat Sherman and order a pizza at 2:45 left. And now there’s 30 seconds. And Nat’s take forever to smoke.
Rose Bowl! I know a queen. Sophia Bush, FWIW. And yes, she’s as pretty (if not moreso) in person. And nice. I just wish I still had her number so that I could tell her that I would punch the Chadster if she asked.
USC 21/ND 10. At the half. I’m saying nothing because I don’t want to jinx it. I am my mother, you know, and she has wicked bad jinxing mojo when it comes to football.
Pete Carroll has REALLY KIND eyes.
I love the word “rout.”
This insurance ad will make me cry.
“Brady Quinn brings the Irish up.”Is that different than “get your irish up?” One means fighting. Speaking of Irish. I still haven’t had a drink.
Would a Rob Roy with Dubonnet Rouge rather than Sweet Vermouth be totally gross? I don’t have soda for the New School Old-Fashioned. Yes, I invented the New School Old Fashioned.(after the game, I did).
How did I get so sweaty? I have to move. I need real AC.
Commentators make a Will Ferrell joke.
OH PLEASE LET WILL FERRELL BE THERE.
Oh, Yeah, commentators. John David Booty is shaking. Because he knows what I will do to him tonight. That’s shaking with joy. Not fear.
Why is the past footage all color-treated? Weird.
Football has too many timeouts. I went out and was able to smoke a Nat Sherman and order a pizza at 2:45 left. And now there’s 30 seconds. And Nat’s take forever to smoke.
Rose Bowl! I know a queen. Sophia Bush, FWIW. And yes, she’s as pretty (if not moreso) in person. And nice. I just wish I still had her number so that I could tell her that I would punch the Chadster if she asked.
USC 21/ND 10. At the half. I’m saying nothing because I don’t want to jinx it. I am my mother, you know, and she has wicked bad jinxing mojo when it comes to football.
Pete Carroll has REALLY KIND eyes.
I love the word “rout.”
This insurance ad will make me cry.
COBRA. CONTINUED.
[This is what happens when I attempted to watch the USC/ND football game - despite knowing *nothing about football* while channel-flipping to a crappy movie called King Cobra, while drinking and IMing H----- while semi live-blogging my thoughts. Be afraid, be very afraid.]
Southwest ad. Lavender explodes. Hell no.
Oh, Bonaventure Hotel! SHOUTOUT!
does queen latifah get a houseboat everytime a pizza hut ad airs?
David Landry would be cute if he shaved.
Our Song Girls and Cheer Guys (they have a specific name) could kick ND’s lame cheer asses. And then have cheer sex with the enemy.
Wow.
THEY JUST RAN A NAVIGATIONAL SYSTEM LAST AD BREAK!
I hate that. Seriously. Only one ad per company every few hours. Or else you should get fined as much as CBS did for Nipplegate. If it’s different versions of the same ad or there is a narrative continuing, then it’s okay. But otherwise, stop running the same ads NONSTOP. This is why I don’t watch anything “live” anymore.
I want a Blackjack though I think it may be a Cylon Device. Nothing that fancy and lust-worthy, tech wise, is possible without the potential of it becoming a killer robot.
But they may be a risk I’m willing to take. If only it came in a Number Six model.
Why is everything breaking? How is showing a car breaking a good car ad? Because the other cars are unbreakable, I guess. Or something.
Dudes. I love this ad with the jockstrap and the phone and the killer huge lockerroom dude. Man is built! And I even love pudgy pale average guy. I hate John Madden. HATE. But that’s what having an ex who would rather play Madden 04 on PS2 than get a mind-numbing blowjob will do to you.
Plus, I think he may be evil. And he collapsed into self-parody many years ago. Just like Jack Nicholson. There is no John Madden or Nicholson. But only “Madden” and “Nicholson.”
Pete Carroll has kind eyes.
EWW. ND Touchdown. HELLS TO THE NO!
Southwest ad. Lavender explodes. Hell no.
Oh, Bonaventure Hotel! SHOUTOUT!
does queen latifah get a houseboat everytime a pizza hut ad airs?
David Landry would be cute if he shaved.
Our Song Girls and Cheer Guys (they have a specific name) could kick ND’s lame cheer asses. And then have cheer sex with the enemy.
Wow.
THEY JUST RAN A NAVIGATIONAL SYSTEM LAST AD BREAK!
I hate that. Seriously. Only one ad per company every few hours. Or else you should get fined as much as CBS did for Nipplegate. If it’s different versions of the same ad or there is a narrative continuing, then it’s okay. But otherwise, stop running the same ads NONSTOP. This is why I don’t watch anything “live” anymore.
I want a Blackjack though I think it may be a Cylon Device. Nothing that fancy and lust-worthy, tech wise, is possible without the potential of it becoming a killer robot.
But they may be a risk I’m willing to take. If only it came in a Number Six model.
Why is everything breaking? How is showing a car breaking a good car ad? Because the other cars are unbreakable, I guess. Or something.
Dudes. I love this ad with the jockstrap and the phone and the killer huge lockerroom dude. Man is built! And I even love pudgy pale average guy. I hate John Madden. HATE. But that’s what having an ex who would rather play Madden 04 on PS2 than get a mind-numbing blowjob will do to you.
Plus, I think he may be evil. And he collapsed into self-parody many years ago. Just like Jack Nicholson. There is no John Madden or Nicholson. But only “Madden” and “Nicholson.”
Pete Carroll has kind eyes.
EWW. ND Touchdown. HELLS TO THE NO!
Sophie's Motherfracking Choice:
5 PM on SciFi: King Cobra. With Pat Morita and a cast of thousands. Dozens. Whatever.
Same time, different bat channel: USC versus Notre Dame.
Now, you know I don't know nothing about football. But. Still.
I wanna watch the game to see K's cousins weep. (True story: they flew into LA to watch the game. And didn't buy her a ticket! And K went to SC and they're ND alums. It's both schools! On her turf! Rudeness, much.)
Plus, Masa + beer and/or scotch, plus flipping back and forth to Cobra? Potential best day ever. The game can be no more confusing/exciting than King Cobra. Perhaps I will finally understand football.
I wish I had a fancy TV that could do picture-in-picture, but I don't. It's too bad my parents don't love me enough to get an HDTV. Hint hint winkwink nudge nudge.
Same time, different bat channel: USC versus Notre Dame.
Now, you know I don't know nothing about football. But. Still.
I wanna watch the game to see K's cousins weep. (True story: they flew into LA to watch the game. And didn't buy her a ticket! And K went to SC and they're ND alums. It's both schools! On her turf! Rudeness, much.)
Plus, Masa + beer and/or scotch, plus flipping back and forth to Cobra? Potential best day ever. The game can be no more confusing/exciting than King Cobra. Perhaps I will finally understand football.
I wish I had a fancy TV that could do picture-in-picture, but I don't. It's too bad my parents don't love me enough to get an HDTV. Hint hint winkwink nudge nudge.
it's okay....
We have all the time in the world.
Unfortunately, no we don't.
R.I.P to Sven Nykist as well. He had one of the best eyes and best careers in the business. Plus he got to shoot the gorgeous Miss Lena Olin twice, so not a bad life, eh? Which brings me to -
sidenote: despite my paper arguing that Alias
is/was the successor to Bond, it's taken me until now to realize that title of the last episode equals the last line of OHMSS.
sidenote to the sidenote: As pissed as I am about MGM screwing up the DVD release AGAIN, it seems like the Bond DVD Set 3
will be worth it since there are at least two other good films in it. It seems like the best combination would sets 2, 3 and 4 (since it has Dr. No, among others) and get Goldfinger as a standalone DVD when it is rereleased. Since I hear the transfer is absolutely killer. Unfortunately, I'm still unable to buy an HDTV yet but who cares until the whole BluRay/HD-DVD fiasco is settled anyways. And yes, despite or perhaps because of the Madonna cameo and invisible car, I do think Die Another Day is a okay movie.
Unfortunately, no we don't.
R.I.P to Sven Nykist as well. He had one of the best eyes and best careers in the business. Plus he got to shoot the gorgeous Miss Lena Olin twice, so not a bad life, eh? Which brings me to -
sidenote: despite my paper arguing that Alias
is/was the successor to Bond, it's taken me until now to realize that title of the last episode equals the last line of OHMSS.sidenote to the sidenote: As pissed as I am about MGM screwing up the DVD release AGAIN, it seems like the Bond DVD Set 3
will be worth it since there are at least two other good films in it. It seems like the best combination would sets 2, 3 and 4 (since it has Dr. No, among others) and get Goldfinger as a standalone DVD when it is rereleased. Since I hear the transfer is absolutely killer. Unfortunately, I'm still unable to buy an HDTV yet but who cares until the whole BluRay/HD-DVD fiasco is settled anyways. And yes, despite or perhaps because of the Madonna cameo and invisible car, I do think Die Another Day is a okay movie.
May 17, 2006
vignettes are the new black....
disclaimer: this post was written under the influence of several whiskey sours. keep that in mind:
The scene: The day before my final(s) frantically typing a late paper, outside Leavey Library.
So there I am, by the gorgeous reflecting pool, chugging Rock Star (oh, 'SC, remember RedBull? I do. And fondly. Wha happened?) and pounding away on my laptop like Colin Farrell with a sorority girl. A blandly beautiful, vaguely familiar looking girl passes and waves to me.
So I look up and kinda, sorta acknowledge her prescence - because I have taken a leave of abscence (or two) in my time and could have easily blanked on recognizing a former classmate/acquaintance/whatever.
Unfortunately, my semi-acknowledgment of her existence leads to this: A too-sweet like saccharine smile and "Just remember, Jesus loves you."
A beat. No real response on my end. I half-glance at my laptop again and dread the work I have to do.
"Well, I'm praying for you!"
Again, a beat, no movement on my part. I have basically 20ish pages to type in the next 24 hours, so that's where my priorities are. She walks away and delivers the parting shot - "You're a very self-absorbed person, you know that?"
Oh. Dear. Fuck. You. Bitch.
I don't say that of course, just sit sorta stunned and nonplussed. Okay, yes, I am. I never denied that. I know I can be shallow and self-absorbed, but it's a defense mechanism and an ironic choice. And my self-absorption has NOTHING to do with the fact that I won't join your Jesus Brigade considering I am obviously working on something for finals and don't want to be interrupted by people who act like they know me but are just trying to win the Conversion Toaster. Seriously, who does that? Yes, it's a campus. But it is still one in a major city. Learn some boundaries, fool. Or else some crazed homeless person is gonna stab you because you didn't just keep walking and chose to listen to their sob story about the car breaking down and do you have 40 dollars or a cigarette or some crystal meth? No, well, enjoy this knife in your stomach.
SPEAKING OF...
The scene: Post-graduation, mom in town highlights.
Is it (a): Fully stopping, holding up the rest of the group walking in front of her, while she proceeds to listen intensely to said crazed homeless woman's need for a Triple A card due to the car breakage. Mom, if you can't understand what they're saying due to a faulty grasp of English or teh crazy, that doesn't mean you should try to decipher it. My mom isn't good with the accents -- evidenced when she tried to convince us that a waiter's misunderstanding at a fantastically upscale restaurant was due to the fact that they can't speak English as opposed to the gesture being vague.
(b) Being a fucking split Nazi, once again. Granted, it is mother's day brunch, but just ORDER YOUR OWN DAMN FOOD! She does this at every meal. Rather than order what she wants and live with the consequences, she FORCES us to split things with her so that she won't deal with the failure/responsibility if she doesn't like it. I chose Hungry Cat specifically because I wanted the burger, with blue cheese. Mom. doesn't. like. blue. cheese.
At first, she opts for the "oh, i'll just scrape it off option." Then it becomes blue cheese on the side. Even though the melty goodness is the whole point. I don't get it. Order your own. That way, you can control your order like the insane control freak that you are rather than having everyone else compromise to please you. I think my favorite was when she said that we shouldn't order the shrimp (though I was asking Krystal if she wanted some shrimp) because her stomach was upset and she's trying to save money. Okay, well, I don't understand why the rest of the table can't have shrimp because your stomach's off. (Which it is apparently ALL THE DAMN TIME). Don't talk to me about money when you spent the entire two days before my graduation buying expensive things at Nordstrom's, Fred Segal and god knows where else rather than asking what I - the graduate, remember? the reason you came to LA? -- wanted to do while my family was here. (Hint: not watch you and Mollie shop for 6 days straight).
Needless to say, she ate the shrimp and proclaimed it a good choice.
(c) The reason for all this anger? Hmm, while at her friends in Sherman Oaks, she debates whether their mutual friend loves her daughter or son more. Mom says that the son is going through a tough time or something so it's "easier to love" the daughter. I make some comment, not too snarky. Without prompting, this causes the conversation to turn to me - namely, mom telling me to my face that "Mollie (my sister) is easy to love. You're not easy to love." And somehow, when I get pissed off and sulky at this, she has the audacity to act as though she did nothing wrong and I'm crazy to be offended all how dare you! not take this insult with a smile.
No, Mom, it's great. That's just the perfect thing to say to someone who believes that they don't deserve love, will never find love and are going to die alone. Thanks a lot, love you too.
The scene: The day before my final(s) frantically typing a late paper, outside Leavey Library.
So there I am, by the gorgeous reflecting pool, chugging Rock Star (oh, 'SC, remember RedBull? I do. And fondly. Wha happened?) and pounding away on my laptop like Colin Farrell with a sorority girl. A blandly beautiful, vaguely familiar looking girl passes and waves to me.
So I look up and kinda, sorta acknowledge her prescence - because I have taken a leave of abscence (or two) in my time and could have easily blanked on recognizing a former classmate/acquaintance/whatever.
Unfortunately, my semi-acknowledgment of her existence leads to this: A too-sweet like saccharine smile and "Just remember, Jesus loves you."
A beat. No real response on my end. I half-glance at my laptop again and dread the work I have to do.
"Well, I'm praying for you!"
Again, a beat, no movement on my part. I have basically 20ish pages to type in the next 24 hours, so that's where my priorities are. She walks away and delivers the parting shot - "You're a very self-absorbed person, you know that?"
Oh. Dear. Fuck. You. Bitch.
I don't say that of course, just sit sorta stunned and nonplussed. Okay, yes, I am. I never denied that. I know I can be shallow and self-absorbed, but it's a defense mechanism and an ironic choice. And my self-absorption has NOTHING to do with the fact that I won't join your Jesus Brigade considering I am obviously working on something for finals and don't want to be interrupted by people who act like they know me but are just trying to win the Conversion Toaster. Seriously, who does that? Yes, it's a campus. But it is still one in a major city. Learn some boundaries, fool. Or else some crazed homeless person is gonna stab you because you didn't just keep walking and chose to listen to their sob story about the car breaking down and do you have 40 dollars or a cigarette or some crystal meth? No, well, enjoy this knife in your stomach.
SPEAKING OF...
The scene: Post-graduation, mom in town highlights.
Is it (a): Fully stopping, holding up the rest of the group walking in front of her, while she proceeds to listen intensely to said crazed homeless woman's need for a Triple A card due to the car breakage. Mom, if you can't understand what they're saying due to a faulty grasp of English or teh crazy, that doesn't mean you should try to decipher it. My mom isn't good with the accents -- evidenced when she tried to convince us that a waiter's misunderstanding at a fantastically upscale restaurant was due to the fact that they can't speak English as opposed to the gesture being vague.
(b) Being a fucking split Nazi, once again. Granted, it is mother's day brunch, but just ORDER YOUR OWN DAMN FOOD! She does this at every meal. Rather than order what she wants and live with the consequences, she FORCES us to split things with her so that she won't deal with the failure/responsibility if she doesn't like it. I chose Hungry Cat specifically because I wanted the burger, with blue cheese.
At first, she opts for the "oh, i'll just scrape it off option." Then it becomes blue cheese on the side. Even though the melty goodness is the whole point. I don't get it. Order your own. That way, you can control your order like the insane control freak that you are rather than having everyone else compromise to please you. I think my favorite was when she said that we shouldn't order the shrimp (though I was asking Krystal if she wanted some shrimp) because her stomach was upset and she's trying to save money. Okay, well, I don't understand why the rest of the table can't have shrimp because your stomach's off. (Which it is apparently ALL THE DAMN TIME). Don't talk to me about money when you spent the entire two days before my graduation buying expensive things at Nordstrom's, Fred Segal and god knows where else rather than asking what I - the graduate, remember? the reason you came to LA? -- wanted to do while my family was here. (Hint: not watch you and Mollie shop for 6 days straight).
Needless to say, she ate the shrimp and proclaimed it a good choice.
(c) The reason for all this anger? Hmm, while at her friends in Sherman Oaks, she debates whether their mutual friend loves her daughter or son more. Mom says that the son is going through a tough time or something so it's "easier to love" the daughter. I make some comment, not too snarky. Without prompting, this causes the conversation to turn to me - namely, mom telling me to my face that "Mollie (my sister) is easy to love. You're not easy to love." And somehow, when I get pissed off and sulky at this, she has the audacity to act as though she did nothing wrong and I'm crazy to be offended all how dare you! not take this insult with a smile.
No, Mom, it's great. That's just the perfect thing to say to someone who believes that they don't deserve love, will never find love and are going to die alone. Thanks a lot, love you too.
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