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review-y | "existentialism on prom night"

My mother and I went to go see Must Love Dogs tonight. It was really different,to say the least, but cute nonetheless. It was your average chick flick, complete with John Cusack, who, by the way, graduated from his usual swingin' guy in his 30s movies to a forty-something lead hunk in a romantacom. (Like that word? I just coined it.)

 

I don't know when I became totally enthralled with movies, but it happened suddenly. After Wedding Crashers it's all been downhill from there. I've seen 3 different movies in the past week. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was sandwhiched between seeing Wedding Crashers umpteen times and Must Love Dogs.

         

 

Even the previews have been fantastic! Lookout out for Vince Vaughn's (orgasm) new movie Thumbsucker, where he plays a teacher to a young boy who has a bad case of ADD...And in speaking of totally hot men (Vince Vaughn) Paul Reiser has a new movie coming out! (I'm so being serious right now, the guy is a great lookin' jew!) And lest we forget the 4th Harry Potter is due in November and Tim Burton's The Corpse Bride in early fall. (moregasm.)

 

 

Back to the feature presentation...

Diane Lane played her usual role, the its-all-becoming-way-too-familiar harried divorcee' on her way to hagdom. Don't get me wrong, she plays the role well, (she played basically the same part in Under the Tuscan Sun although the setting was drastically more European, but I digress) it's just that seeing this figure of a forty-something woman turned suddenly alone/midlife crisis after her unfaithful husband inevitably leaves her for a younger woman, is becoming a bit unnerving.

Are all women destined to marry womanizers who like to trade-in the old for the newer model?

God, it's too sad to even think about.

And of course, (WARNING! SPOILER!) the frail and cynical heroine gets her guy...because, well let's face it, it's the movies. And in the movies, the girl always gets the guy.

The irony here is obvious. People are sucked into movies because of the distinct parallels of the big screen and real life, watching people experience the pain of loss through divorce and the always less than perfect and awkward first dates, but in the movies, it will inevitably work out. And in real life, we have no way of knowing.

Best line from the movie:

There is a guy out there for you who will appreciate all you have to offer.

Antibiotics? I'm probiotics.

drooly | Michelle Branch

So here it is, 12:45 a.m. on a Saturday morning.

I just spent the last 2 and half hours in the ER, asking "mndgaoh neaorinfa fmnoiwan?"

Allow me to translate:  Excuse me, doctor, why is my tongue swollen?

And the answer was? Sounds like, "here take these and get out."

They gave me a bendryl and some other things that looked like bendryl but wasn't, a prescription for the said stuff, 6 pages on how to properly stay hydrated and a note for work signed Epstein's Mother. (Retro reference.) Then they gave me the big ol' boot minus a thorough examination.

Where we the latex gloves? The poking and prodding with cold utensils? The pee tests?!

I sat there for two hours reading Harry Potter, drooling out of every orifice in my facial cavity and didn't even get a diagnosis.

So I'm all drugged up on these blissful sleepy medications and writing a journal entry while trying to make a makeshift spittoon out of a Ziploc bag.

Mkfdahfineatrhtrmbsbntm.

This bib isn't such a bad idea.

 

What have I been up to?

hassled | "Only the Good Die Young" - Billy Joel

 

You may ask yourself, Self, what has Marissa been up to in the past 9 days that she hasn't bothered to update?

But the real question is, what hasn't Marissa been up to?

This last week and a half have been nothing short of unboring. Seriously.

- I went offroading, on accident, in a 4X4 my dad brought home. I haven't felt such utter exhiliration since my first time skiing. I'm thinking about buying one...what do you think?

- I've become an Ebay junkie.

- I got my pictures developed from Italy and Switz. Journal entries soon to come. I promise.

- Sean and I went to Six Flags last week and rode roller coasters all day. He even forced me to go on this frightening slingshot ride that hurls you 300 feet into the air in less than 2 seconds. I thought I was going to poop my pants waiting in line but by the time I was on the ride, I was laughing my ass off. Totally worth his $40. And I loved it so much that I offered myself up to be the next (hot) guy in line's riding buddy and I got to go again for free!

That same night Sean and I and one of his friends ended up at Hooters. And up until this point in my life, I was a Hooters virgin. Never been in one. I reallllllly wish it stayed that way. What a crusty crusty place. (However, total highlight of the evening #1: Blonde bimbo with large breasts sitting across from 2 men at a table, flirting while taking their order, "Ugh, it's sooo hotttt in heeerree." She proceeds to pull out a handheld fan from I don't know where and when she begins fanning herself off with it, it gets stuck in her hair! What's the matter? The fan setting too high, Goldilocks? Get a real job!) ((Total highlight #2? Sean and his said friend got absolutely nil breast action since I was at the table. Haha! I was one of the only female customers in the joint. And when the waitress asked Sean if he'd like his sandwhich covered or "naked" I damn near about peed myself. And don't get me started on the shorts.

- I've been paying off my bills.

- And coincidentally looking for another job, on top of the craft store.

- Living on Tylenol and Nyquil, I'm a sick girl :(

- Seeing Wedding Crashers way too many times. And counting.

A real update soon.

Someone get me a towel...

I think I'm in love.

 

And don't forget...

 And shop at Michaels!

 

((If you haven't seen Wedding Crashers yet, do so and then send me many comments of thanks.))

((And for those of you who have....I would kill to be the girl next to Vince at the dinner table, if you know what I mean. *sighs*))

i am broken. period.

My seretonin levels took the inevitable nosedive into the pit of despair.

I feel like someone mangled my ovaries to match the way my heart feels. Lets face it, I'm not getting over this anytime soon.      : (

Pass the kleenex, she's gonna blow...

Until Dec 20th I'm all yours, New York.

In my usual Marissa fashion, my mood has changed significantly since the last two pity party entries. And although I didn't get out of bed at all today (yet and due to reasons that only feminines understand) I got alot accomplished.

I called school for their pool hours. As of late I've noticed some sag and cellulite and dimple-y buttcheeks that were a total non-issue before I upped my caloric intake to a million a day. (They don't call 'em munchies for nothing, those bitches are fierce. And by fierce I mean utterly insatiable until you introduce 'em to butter and garlic chicken wings and chocolate chips, washed down with Pepsi. That ought to teach me.) So, in a moment of pure crises the other night, I did what I should've never done. I took pictures of myself, clad only in my now-too-tight unsexy undergarments. And I was not happy, to say the least. I know the camera adds ten pounds but CHRIZZIST. Cut me some flab...er, slack, I mean.

So, 3 times a week, join me and my exceedingly unflattering swim cap (makes me look like a gingerbread man) at the pool.

I also registered for those last 3 credits to finish my degree. And NO, I will NOT be attending the graduation ceremony THIS TIME. I'm taking Art Appreciation, in hopes it will spark my inner arteest to re-emerge. And if not, I'll just enjoy the free trips to the museum.

This also means my plans for a big move are going to have to wait until January. And California told me that's a-okay. :)  (see! I don't post everything on here. you don't know what I got cookin' on the WEST SIDE of the figurative stove...)

And and and... I sent a very nonchildish "until we meet again" Mario's way, telling him no matter where I go, he'll be on my mind (which he always will) and that after ALL of this, he's still someone I care alot for.

Hopefully one day he'll understand.

And, as for the car, Dad wasn't mad. I know under all of those frightening layers and stern looks there's a big ol' softie underneath and will forever be the only man I will ever trust. (They don't get any better.)

Now I'm just hoping this mood will stay. For a long, long time. I can't go around messing stuff up anymore.

*raises dixie cup high and chugs down a Midol*

Here's to grabbing life by the balls and making ball juice! No, wait...lemonade. 

Whatever.

License to Kill

They shouldn't let crazy girls with broken hearts drive.

I was driving along, tears pouring out of my eyes and...

BAM!!!!

You guessed it.

Blinded by lost love, I hit a car.

Does insurance cover shattered love lives as well?

I sure hope so.

 

Help me get through this bullshit.

virtual vomit.

And now begins the utterly dragged out part of the breakup. Getting over him.

Is it still called a breakup even if we were never together? Yesterday I would've fought to get my point across that, yes, Mario and I were together, but today? I could care less.

What classifies being together? Doing all the couple-y stuff, correct? Like, I don't know. Holding hands. Kissing. Sleeping together. The inevitable pet names.

But no, for the record's sake, we were never together.

So this is the end of nothing.

I'm not going to lie. It hurts. ALOT. And I'm not sure if it's because I'm out of practice or if I'm losing my resilience but the "he's just not that into you" attitude is worthless here.

Alot of signs pointed to he was totally into me. For example, the plane ticket that he bought for me to visit him. It's not like he's a marioinaire or anything, I'm sure he doesn't just buy tickets for any girl thats remotely interested. I've thought about sending him the $200, but decided against it and that he should have to pay. (although $200 is one millionth of the price of a broken heart.)

Thats unanswered question one.

I really don't know how to be done. I don't. Thinking about him is like trying to stop breathing, you can't help but breathe again, involuntarily.

In the midst of the whole thing (think about 15 months or so) I kept thinking to myself "why does it have to be so hard?" And for a long time, the answer was obvious. He had a girlfriend. He didn't need two. (Although some times it felt like it.) And why, after they split, did he suddenly lose interest in me too?

Unanswered question two.

There is no feeling I despise more than feeling PATHETIC over something as stupid as a boy. But here I am. Part of me is blaming myself. Maybe I shouldn't have pulled out the big guns and muttered an I Love You at probably the most inopportune of moments, but I did. Love him, that is. I do not deny in any way shape or form that he was it.

And that is probably why I don't know where to begin. I could've sworn it was what he wanted to. He gave every indication that it was. And I hate that I fell victim to his gross little game, if thats what it was. Double or nothing.

I ended up with nothing.

And theres a million of things just racking my brain right now. How could he do this? How could I let him do this? Why me? What was it about me that made him see a giant KICK ME sign on my heart? Why couldn't I just leave it alone? Why doesn't this happen to everyone else, too?

I'm beginning to feel the hate well up inside of me. I'm like an awakened volcano, and, if I had the balls, I would reem him out for being TOTALLY LAME. (Or if he had the balls he would be honest.)

I hope his heart breaks in a million pieces when he find the rest of the little notes I hid around his apartment. The ones that said "miss me while I'm gone" and "know you're always on my mind."

Maybe he'll find them when he starts packing his stuff to come home in less than a month.

I better not see him. A shove is in order.

I wish I could cut that part of my brain out. The part that met him and fell in love with him. I would mail the little bloody bit of it to him in the mail. Take that.

I feel sick over it. All the time I wasted. Waiting for nothing. And I hate that he is the only person I ever felt inclined to marry. I'm disgusted with myself.

I know I'm better off without him. I actually realize it. I'm happier when he's not around, it's true, but at the same time, it was the thought of him, and perhaps the thought of a somebody instead of an empty space was more comforting than anything.

But what if months and months and months pass and he's still fresh in my memory? Or worse---what if I'm still in love with him. Then what? A labotomy?

Will it ever go away?

I guess I allowed myself to be in denial these last few months over the whole thing. He was just taking a break from it to focus on school and when he was done he'd be ready to be with me. (Mental note: a man will never be ready.) But thats not what it was at all.

He just ducked and covered from the shit storm (me) that was being sent his way.

I wish I could take it all back. I wish I never met him. I wish he was lost and gone forever.

I hope the next time I think about him I burst into flames.

 

Is it getting hot in here?

 

Just make it all go away.

Can't spell us without a you.

Love is on my mind.

Everything about it. The kisses, the passion, the excitement. The unraveling, the hurt, the loss.

No matter how much I try to fulfill every aspect of my life in lieu of being with someone, I still find my way back to it. My life is not quite right yet.

What I really want is someone that will just love me no matter what. No matter how bad I mess up and who will just accept that it's who I am. So what if showering is not my top priority. I get moody and sometimes I like to be alone. Like anyone, I have many quirks. This person must learn to adjust accordingly. I want that. I want the comfort of knowing someone will always be there regardless of the world ...more than anything I want someone whose not going to leave. I want to rest my head on the little nook on his collarbone. That's my home.

I want to come home at night to each other, lie in bed and tell each other about our days and hold hands. I want to kiss again. I want to go out! I want dates! I want someone who actually wants to see me. Someone who won't hurt me.

I'm ready.

I don't need a ring. I just want someone whose going to be there.

Maybe it's too much to ask.

 

My Colossal Purchase

So, I bought a painting.

There is an annual sidewalk showcase of local artists sponsered through MWPAI, and I go every year.

So last Friday night, clad in my fabulous dress, I went solo. And you know what? There's no one else I would've rather gone with. I was free to do whatever I wanted, so I did just that. And when I left, I was $600 poorer but not empty handed.

I picked up an acrylic painting of Rome's Colosseo. And being I just got back from there, I fell in love with it. I don't know too much about the man who painted it other than he has other paintings featured in the museum and that he's extreeeemely talented.

I will always have this painting as a reminder of my trip and what I saw while I was there. And I love that it's original. I'm not the kind of person who can find happiness within an arid print...or something that everyone else has.

It looks great against the orange walls.

I feel like a schoolgirl again.

 

A - Age you lost your virginity? - I was young and he bought me Milk Duds after.

B - Band listening to right now? - The last band I listened to were The Shins

C - Dream car?- Don't really have one. As long as it runs without needing gas every 2 seconds.

D - Dads name? - Rich, although affectionately known by my sister and I as "big guy"

E - Easiest person you can make laugh? - myself without a doubt. I'm a hoot.

F - Food you miss most? - I don't see why I'd miss it, if I liked it, I'd eat it.

G - Any encounters with ghosts?- depends on the definition of "ghost," and yes, there are times when I am haunted by people from my past.

H- Person most hated at the moment?- frizzy-haired beast at work who insists on wearing oversized tye-dyed shirts and gets off on making up stories about who stole the food out of the fridge in the breakroom. Bitch is gon' get cut.

I - Interesting unknown fact about yourself?- I hate my Grandma.

J- The first letter of the last person who broke your heart?- M

K - Kissing with eyes opened or closed?- get your own moves.

L - Last time you did LSD?- Mr. Ding-a-Ling and I got lit and blared Pop Goes the Weasle through Whitesboro.

M - Most memorable moment you can think of in a minute?- making a makeshift bed on the bathroom floor of our hotel room in Switzerland, complete with a lamp on the toilet. (pictures soon to come, I swear.)

N - Nicknames?- LBJ's Baby Mama

M- Most valued possesion? Fluffy my stuffed best friend, my paintings.

P - Poison of choice?- do you mean Poison song of choice? In that case it'd be Every Rose Has its Thorn. (not really.)

Q - The last quote you heard: "every rose has its thorn"

R - What are you allergic to? - I'm allergic to boys. Cootie-infested poopheads.

S - Song you sang last? - "LA Lights" Anna Nalick

T - Time you woke up? - 10:30 a.m.

U - Fav. pair of underwear?- the one's I left at your mom's house. Tell the bitch I want 'em back.

V - Vegetable you hate most? - Dennis Kuspinach '04.

W - What are you the most afraid of?- having my heart broken again. I knew I was a girl!

X - rated love life?- Not sure what exactly this question is asking, but I'm assuming I'll just react bitterly anyway.

Y - Year you were born? - 1985

Z - Zodiac sign? - Gemini. And it's oh so true.

Where all my journeys end.

"The Promise" - Tracy Chapman

If you wait for me then I'll come for you
Although I've traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart
If you think of me If you miss me once in awhile
Then I'll return to you
I'll return and fill that space in your heart
Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting
If you dream of me like I dream of you
In a place that's warm and dark
In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting
I've longed for you and I have desired
To see your face, your smile
To be with you wherever you are

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
Please say you'll be waiting

Together again
It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end
If you can make a promise If it's one that you can keep, I vow to come for you
If you wait for me and say you'll hold
A place for me in your heart.

Welcome to Marissa's PETTY Zoo.

Forgive me, if you will, for writing an entry in such a lousy mood. I need to rant. Rave. Vent.

If your social status is anything above yeti/caveperson/antisocialite, you can relate with what I'm about to write.

People are stupid.

I can't even begin to tell you how many times in a day I find myself asking, "what's the matter with you?" And this point goes beyond trivial matters, such as "I left my 40% off coupon at home, can I have another?"

Nope, this literary huff is a product of Fed-Up (you do know that Fed Ex and UPS merged,right?) I am sick of people! I am sick of people and their sob stories. Don't get me wrong, it's one thing to have cancer, but having your coupons stolen out of your newspaper by a sneaky neighbor isn't as tragic, by any means. Of course I am using coupons figuratively here, in representation of some stale bread story that can be described as "awful," "terrible" or, "horrifying."

I can think of worse things.

I've found myself amid a myriad of complainers, whiners and overgrown babies. I've come in contact with complete assholes, self-righteous psuedo-intellects and, those I like to call "softies." (Or, those who can't handle anything.)

I'm beginning to wonder if the entire world has it's panties in a bunch.

I want to climb to the highest mountain and scream "GET OVER IT!"

Life is too short.

And there was a time in my life, not too long ago...

Enter: personal reflection period + how I overcame it.

And then I have to wonder what shitty things has life sent this person's way to make them such a miserable wretch? Ah, have a string of bad luck? Take it out on everyone! Consider this A-OK in my book!

But what I think the real problem here is, is the somewhat vague definition of bad. Webster's defines the term bad as: something that is bad. "Softies" define bad as: the worst thing that could possibly ever happen. Ex: dropping toothbrush in toilet or, spilling milk. Someone grab a Kleenex! Boohoo!

What really gets me is all of these supportive minions sporting elastic yellow bracelets in dedication to Lance Armstrong and his battle with cancer. He fell off his bike, figuratively speaking, and he got back on. You don't see him shelling out cash for therapy and anti-depressants. He's playing the hand life dealt him and he's winning.

Take a hint or retire the bracelet. Conformists.

Life is way too hard to lay back on the proverbial leather couch of your therapists office. Grab life by the lemons and make lemonade.

Or get out of my face.