Dear Slurpy.

Hey, Slurpy McDrinkerson. You disgust me. I hate how you suck up your beverage, making as much noise as possible. You are an adult. Why does it seem like you are making reverse bubbles into your drink while you are sipping? If it is too hot, let it cool down. Get an ice cube. Cripes, drink something cold. But that won't stop you, will it, Slurpy? You'll slurp down milk, too.

Why does so much noise need to be made while eating? I don't want to hear you enjoying it. I can see you. Hush now.

Love,
Bug

P.S. My boss is a Slurpy McDrinkerson and so are people in the movies. This trend ends tonight.

Wow, head to toe leather. Great choice, Madam Jenner.

Why does Bruce Jenner look like this?

Why doesn't he look like this?

If you are going to have plastic surgery, you should at least strive to look like the one on the left. Everyone should look like the one on the left. NO ONE should look like the one on the right.
(Caveat: should I ever fall in love... that guy will be the best looking guy ever 'cause I love him.)



sidenote:
Not like I watch the show, or anything, but it is so obvious that Jillian Barberie and John Zimmerman are kickass at ice skating and every else sucks. The other losers should just go home.
Kristy Swanson, I don't know what you inspire in me, but I hate you.

Just agree with me, okay?

I got my grades for my first week of my new class and I got a B on my paper. A B. Ya. I was really mad. Especially for the fact that the paper was about MY opinions and experiences with Native Americans up to this point in my life. Apparently my experiences were only worth a B. Damn boring life. This class is giving me scabies. (Relax. I just like to exaggerate.) But seriously. I am doing more work in this class in a week than I do in a year at work. And it is making me crazy. Then to throw a little salt in my aching and open wound, a B! Damn. This all just leads me up to my point for this rant.
Why is it that every person I whined to defended my teacher? They tried to justify it, or give me ideas of how to be a better student. I got no shortage of things I could and should do.

NOT WHAT I WANT! Quit solving my problems. Just listen and say, "gosh that sucks. What ever are you going to do?" Geez, make me feel better! That is why I am whining. I already know what I need to do. I just want someone to listen to me and pat me on the head and tell me how great I am so that I can DO the things I already know I need to do.

Movie forces people to reexamine being in the closet...

I got to see The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe tonight. I loved those books as child, and am re-reading them now. (Though I am missing book 3, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. If you have it and would like to loan it to me, I would be much obliged. I am not very welcome at the library... Though I should not tell you that. Because why would you choose to loan me the book, then?)
The movie was wonderful. There were some times were the CGI was noticeable, but the rest was so good, that it overcame it. (For me, anyway.) I was a little mad that Lucy was not a blonde as she was in the book, but HOLY SMOKES, I fell in love with Georgie Henley. She was destroying me everytime she cried. She has a really great face for acting. My friend compared her to his boxer, and I can totally see it. That doggie of his is expressive as hell, and they both have these big, big eyes and that upturned nose. So stinkin' cute! (It is not a mean comparison, I swear!)

I do take offense at grown up Susan having dark eyes. What the? Her eyes could not have been a lighter blue. How could they mess that up? I looked for a photo, but none really capture the lightness of her eyes.

All of the Pevensie children could have been ads for collagen. Big lips! Especially on Susan. As my friend said, she looks like she was popped in the face. That is sort of what I looked like after being socked in my boxing class.

And, I know there are many things wrong with me, not the least of which is that everytime they showed the lion from behind, I was looking for his bits and pieces. Can't explain it. The other issue is that I had a bit of an old lady crush on the two boys. I would so have a poster of them on my closet door if I were 12. (or if I could find a poster of them... kidding. I am not a cougar, yet.)

I am off to examine the inner workings of my closet. My mother has a real wardrobe. I think I may head there soon. I am ready for adventure.

Teenage angst-like poetry

I let myself fall one time
Believing in my heart that he was all mine
And I made that mistake over and over again
I lost so much of myself back then

Running, and getting no where at all
Step after step, I keep waiting for the fall
Has the life I live passed me by
Am I now just waiting for the day I die?

It feels like all the choices have been made
The future before me leaves me so afraid
I am caught running on this wheel
Too broken to allow myself to feel

I don’t want any of it back
I just want to get my life back on track
You don’t need to interfere
Maybe I just need time to find the right gear

Mormon?

First off I want to say that I analyze everything too much and if you don't agree with me, or have no interest in reading an opinion that is not your own, move along. This is just something that was on my mind today, and I felt like writing about it.

Is it just me, or is the whole basis behind Joseph Smith’s creation of the Mormon faith just a bit shady. First, some golden tablet that no one else sees is revealed to him by an angel named Moroni. Now, maybe it is true… or else Mr. Smith paid tribute to the current president of the time, James Monroe. OR the whole thing was a joke and he named the angel “Moroni” because only a moron would fall for this?
I am getting myself in deep here with Mormons. Hey, I think if you have faith in a higher power, that is a wonderful thing and no one can take it away from you. I just question the origins of this particular faith a bit, perhaps because it is easily traceable, having been created less than 200 years ago.
What happened to the golden tablet? Why could Joseph Smith only read it when he was wearing his special hat? (I read that he had to omit any light in order to read the tablets, and that is why he wore the hat.. or maybe it was to hide the fact that there were no golden tablets?)
His father-in-law wanted to see these tablets. Joseph refused permission. Joseph said that, if anyone besides himself looked at the golden plates, it would mean instant death for the person. . Ya. Apparently, no one else could read the tablets anyway, could they have seen them. The only person who happened to have the decoder was… You guessed it! Joseph Smith. Convenient.
So anyway, a vision that he had said to him that HE should start a church and HE should be the leader of it. Fishy. So he went from being a treasure hunter to a church leader…
I am sorry to offend those who have belief in his deeds, but as an American I can proudly question whatever the hell I wanna. I question the living bejesus out of Joseph Smith’s story. According to the scriptures which Joseph was translating, Christ himself had come to America before his ascension. (Because we know how easy travel was during those days… especially across a myriad of seas.)
I do not know why the sudden Anti-Joseph Smith rant. I have never thought he was a very believable person. I am a little scared to travel to Salt Lake City and the shows I have seen on some of the polygamous routines of some people, (which I understand now to not be sanctified by the Mormon Church, but was a huge part of Joseph Smith’s ideal lifestyle, much to the chagrin of his wife Emma), horrifies my senses.
But I do like almost every Mormon I have ever met. I love the fact that so many Mormon families adopt children and raise good people. I love the elders in their little suits on their bicycles. I adore that these kids go around and spread the word about their faith. I think the Mormon Temple in Rockville is beautiful, like the Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz. I totally went to a Mormon Church every Sunday I was in Fredericksburg in the summers of my youth and loved every minute of it.
But whatever happened to those golden tablets?

I forgot my dreidel.

Hanumas took place at Marci's home this year. With matzo ball soup, latkes, mulled wine and cookies being prepared in the kitchen, Jen found herself with the Christmas salad ingredients in the living room. The ginger dressing on that salad rocked my wee little world!

Meanwhile, these two rounded up trouble in the kitchen. (get it? Matzo balls, rounded... Ha!)
I really just stood around waiting to be fed, entertained and lavished with gifts.
Whilst the soup and simmered, the ladies enjoyed some Hanumas wine on "Troy", Marci's sofa. There was a passionate discussion of whatever Jewish knowledge we have. I talked about a movie I saw "Rosenstrasse" and, in typical Bug fashion, forgot my point halfway through telling them about it. But, in not typical Bug fashion, I just stopped talking, as opposed to trying to figure it out. (Much to the delight of my fellow Hanumas celebrants.) Soon enough, a delightful meal was served. (To two gangstas?)


Doesn't everyone seem to be enjoying themselves?

This picture is meant to help you feel like you were there. Ah, the Holiday plunger! (Thank you Mama Bug who graciously redecorated it this year. What a beautiful job you did. Thanks!)
Look at all the presents!


I think the words on the tv screen really capture the moment... Or does that just sound weird?
These girls are excited about some gifts! Jen gave me two cast iron skillets. So I browned some meat and had to go buy a dish washing brush.

I am sad to report that we did not come up with new stanzas of Dreidel, but we did sing and do a little dance to finish off the night.

Happy Hanumas, everyone. Keep the delight of holidays with the best people you know alive!

Separated at Birth?

Did the Star Wars kid grow up to be the lead singer of Death Cab for Cutie?

What's the Frequency?

It’s too loud in my head. I wish I could do something to make it quiet down. Interesting how if I just read someone else stating that, I would think they were completely crazy. Yet, I don’t think I am crazy...at least not completely, anyway. I feel like I am working to progress my life. I am working, going to school and trying to take on an internship in order to make myself that much more qualified for life. Still, I feel like I am running on a hamster wheel. How can I claim control of my life? How do I accept the good things and alleviate the bad? When do I just accept that I am who I am and that is just the way it is?
I feel terrible about feeling terrible. What right do I have? Am I just an entitled bitch who feels the world should cater to her every whim? (Yes)
How do I stop myself from spilling my guts to people? It is horrifying trait that makes me backpedal so furiously that I could outrace Lance Armstrong. Then suddenly, this person with whom I had a nice connection is someone I don’t want to face anymore, because they know too much about me.
If only I could find a safe medium where I could relax and enjoy myself and still feel safe.
In the meantime, how do I shut the noise off in my head?

School Schmool

No one took me up on my Grey Goose bet, so I don't have to pay up. Yay! I got a B+ in my last class. You would not believe what that did to my GPA. What the heck, you know? It should not be that great of a decrease.
I was a point away from an A-, but when I wrote to my teacher, she wrote back telling me that I earned my grade and should be satisfied with it. They do not inflate grades at Boston University. Smeh! A flicking point!
Next class starts on Tuesday. It is on the history of American Indians. It had better be a good class. I can't be B+ing my way through school. This time, though, I think I got the right books. (oops, about last class and my outdated textbook that I bought on Amazon.com for $1.50. Hard to believe that it was the wrong edition.)
Go Terriers!!!

Questionable riches

Forbes posted its top-earning young celebrities list.
First off, Ashlee Simpson earned over $5M in 2005! Seriously? I mean, I can sing better (not that that is saying much); I would probably not do a hoe down, ever...; And I have not, nor would not ever be having sex with my dad. (Oh no, she did not go there! Oh yes, I totally went there. You think it, too. But the truly sad part about it is that he'd rather be having the sex with Jessica...Gross.)
Second, Paris Hilton has an occupation?!? I would like my resume to state that I am a personality. It would be great. And meeting new people would probably go something like this:
Random person (RP): Hi, I am an attorney. What do you do?
Buggie: I am a personality.
RP:
Buggie: (Smiles and thrusts out hip to place emaciated hand on it.)

A KFed review.

Apparently, Kevin Federline is all the rage amongst my pals. I wanna be in on the hottest topic du jour... Rich sent me the latest and greatest song by the world's next biggest star. Here is our review of Popozao, by Kevin Federline. (AKA Dirty McStanky.)

Rich (10:01:40 AM): shall I send you K-Fed's new song?
Buggie (10:02:29 AM): sure
Buggie (10:02:34 AM): I would be much obliged
Rich (10:02:38 AM): it's something else
Buggie (10:21:58 AM): is he taking himself seriously?
Buggie (10:22:16 AM): poppopopopopopzao
Buggie (10:22:21 AM): po po po po
Rich (10:22:26 AM): you aren't hating on him are you?
Buggie (10:22:30 AM): I wanna see some popozao
Buggie (10:22:37 AM): no, just a little confused
Rich (10:22:39 AM): again and again and again
Buggie (10:22:47 AM): I feel like I was aurally raped
Rich (10:23:03 AM): I was going to write a review
Buggie (10:23:06 AM): what is popozao
Rich (10:23:09 AM): but I'll let you go first
Buggie (10:23:18 AM): in German, popo is your bottom
Buggie (10:23:27 AM): no, by all means. that was wonderful. great job, Kevfed
Buggie (10:24:00 AM): oh, I found it is brazillian slang for big behind
Rich (10:24:42 AM): yes. he says so in the song
Buggie (10:24:58 AM): please promise me it won't ever rape me in the ears again. esp. in my car when I am innocently listening to the radio

Got my passport ready

I got new suitcases today. Now I need to go on another trip.
These are the best dang suitcases I have ever seen. Durable as all sin, quiet wheels, and blue, my favorite color. Of course they are darker than they appear to be in the picture.
Ok, I know I just got back from Chicago and before that Colorado and before that Germany and Prague (Pragoo), BUT it was hard to jam all my crap into my sucky suitcase and bring it back to the States with me from Europe. (A girl needs her chocolate.)
The trip from Chicago was brutal! I had a carry-on bag; a laptop bag (weighing 7000 lbs); and my suitcase, weighing 52 lbs (why?), was tearing apart at the seams. I can be a cheap bastard, and always try to take the El to and from O'Hare, but this time I was more than amenable to paying for the freaking taxi so that I did not have to lug all my crap up and down stairs and through tight turnstiles.
Not anymore, baby! For my next trip, whenever that may be, one of my five new travel bags will be suited perfectly. Even the one small carry-on bag that my laptop (my heavy laptop) can live in, has wheels!! WHEELS! Wheee! And they are blue. Precious blue.

Oh, Happiness.

So, where shall we go?

Shocker!

Lindsay Lohan admits to Vanity Fair that she dabbled in drugs and had a bout with bulimia. What? I just can't believe it. Lindsay, you seem so pure.