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I want some dooooooooonuuuuuuuuuts!
I think by tomorrow, most of the flu should be gone. Hopefully. *crosses fingers* I'm at that stage right now, where my appetite still isn't quite up to par, but my cravings have violently taken over the brain and are all "Donuts, damn you! I want DONUTS!" So I'm like "Someone get me some food, for the love of Christ!" like a starving child, just rescued from a little raft on the ocean. Hee. But then I get the food, and can only eat a bit of it. What a bitch.
I just discovered Christmas cookies in the fridge though (you know, the slice and pop in the oven kind? Perfect for me, since just cutting them up right is enough of an effort for me for one night, thank you); hopefully that'll satisfy the Somalian currently taking hostages in my stomach.
Do you guys do this? I seriously become a four year old. Could I go up and get the 7-up myself? Well, sure, probably. But I want my Mommy to do it for me! Heh, like I said. BABY. I'm getting better, but still being fairly childish. I was cutting the cookie dough, and the first one didn't turn out right, and I let out this exasperated sigh and let the knife fall onto the counter, and was all "Why can't I ever do ANYTHING right?!" My Mom had to coax me back into it, like "They don't have to be perfect, Rachael. They'll still taste the same." And I'm all "Hmph. Well. Sure, just be rational about it." Heh. With me, the cookie comes out too thin on one side or something, and I'm all "Forget it!"
I'm also all childish feeling about the recent polls, and "who would you have sex with" and "who would be at your dinner party" questions. Like "FINE, that's FINE! I don't want to have sex with you either! I'll just have my own dinner party! By myself! Yep, just me and this bottle of hard liquor, to dull the pain." *cue pouting and stomping out*
Ah, but the cookies make it all better. MmmChristmascookies.
My Mom did make the enchiladas tonight, and Corinne and Lance came over to eat them. As planned, I loaded my plate till there was like no room left. Then proceeded to eat maybe a quarter of it. Hee. My Mom just looked at it when I was done, and shook her head and sighed. I was all "What? We can save it!" and she was like "Rachael, you have never eaten a bite of leftovers in your life" and I was like "touche." Heh. Oh, wait, not true! I make damn good use of leftover turkey. Mmmmturkeysandwiches. . .
My sister's belly already looks a little bigger. That's so crazy. And her boobs are already a bit pregtastic. Hee. Damn, man, they're gonna be like Dolly Parton by the time she gives birth. Her and Lance went shopping for wedding rings, today. Lance already has his wedding ring bought, because he saw one he liked, and Corinne's engagement one is being sized. Apparently Lance's ring is very "bling bling." Hee.
Corinne's still being all Corinne-ish about the whole thing. She'll talk about names (we finally came upon a name that everyone liked for a boy. I was all "Caleb!" and Corinne was like "I just said that a second ago and neither of you responded!" Heh, I hadn't even heard. Then just came up with it myself too, a second later. Funny, no? I keep saying, if it's a boy, name it John--after Poppy--but she'd rather have it be a middle name.), but is dodging convo on most everything else. She was like "I was freaking over all this, the other night. Where will I have the money for this!" and I was like "The rings? The wedding? The baby?" and she said "All of the above." And I said "Well, I can't imagine you being the type to have a fancy wedding with caterers and all that. Just do it outside somewhere, simple, but pretty." and she was like "The weather's all crappy" and so I said "So, do it in the spring. Or the summer." and she said "by the summer, I'll be out to here! I don't want to be all fat in my wedding photos!" and I was like "Haven't you seen all the celebrities in magazines lately, showing off their pregnant bellies? I don't think pregnant woman look fat. They're beautiful!" and she was like "Still." and I said "You could have Mom standing behind you, pointing a shotgun at Lance!" Hee.
But yeah, she was all against doing it in the summer, and so I suggested spring, and she didn't like that either. I said "Wait until after the baby's born?" and she shook her head. Woman! Be a little more picky! And she still won't take the book home with her! She's so nuts. Oh, and if there were any doubts about that still, she's like "I don't know, I look like crap anyway. . ." and I was like "What? What are you talking about?" and she sort of gestured toward her face and hair, and I was like "Corinne, you could have people do your hair and makeup for you! Make you look all nice" and she was like "I feel gross, lately." She always feels gross! Crazy broad. How many times has she been stopped by model scouts now? Of course, this is the same woman who's all 34 C or D, with her tiny ass waist and everything else, and thinks she "has no boobs." Meanwhile I'll be standing next to her, really with none, like "Must. Resist. Urge. To. Smack. Insane. Big-boobed. Sister." Hee. God. I tell her "Okay, you can go ahead and think you're all short and flat, but when you're around me, Big Boobs McGee? You do not complain. You can whine when you're, you know, NOT around someone who's two/three cup sizes smaller than you, and almost five inches shorter. Comprende? Bitch." Hee. Took all the good, fucking genes in this damned family! She doesn't get to complain. Not around me. It's like a model strutting around in front of some 500 pound woman who has to use one of those scooter things to get around, like "I feel so FAT today!" Like, shut up, before I run you over with my scooter. Don't think I won't do it!
I just discovered Christmas cookies in the fridge though (you know, the slice and pop in the oven kind? Perfect for me, since just cutting them up right is enough of an effort for me for one night, thank you); hopefully that'll satisfy the Somalian currently taking hostages in my stomach.
Do you guys do this? I seriously become a four year old. Could I go up and get the 7-up myself? Well, sure, probably. But I want my Mommy to do it for me! Heh, like I said. BABY. I'm getting better, but still being fairly childish. I was cutting the cookie dough, and the first one didn't turn out right, and I let out this exasperated sigh and let the knife fall onto the counter, and was all "Why can't I ever do ANYTHING right?!" My Mom had to coax me back into it, like "They don't have to be perfect, Rachael. They'll still taste the same." And I'm all "Hmph. Well. Sure, just be rational about it." Heh. With me, the cookie comes out too thin on one side or something, and I'm all "Forget it!"
I'm also all childish feeling about the recent polls, and "who would you have sex with" and "who would be at your dinner party" questions. Like "FINE, that's FINE! I don't want to have sex with you either! I'll just have my own dinner party! By myself! Yep, just me and this bottle of hard liquor, to dull the pain." *cue pouting and stomping out*
Ah, but the cookies make it all better. MmmChristmascookies.
My Mom did make the enchiladas tonight, and Corinne and Lance came over to eat them. As planned, I loaded my plate till there was like no room left. Then proceeded to eat maybe a quarter of it. Hee. My Mom just looked at it when I was done, and shook her head and sighed. I was all "What? We can save it!" and she was like "Rachael, you have never eaten a bite of leftovers in your life" and I was like "touche." Heh. Oh, wait, not true! I make damn good use of leftover turkey. Mmmmturkeysandwiches. . .
My sister's belly already looks a little bigger. That's so crazy. And her boobs are already a bit pregtastic. Hee. Damn, man, they're gonna be like Dolly Parton by the time she gives birth. Her and Lance went shopping for wedding rings, today. Lance already has his wedding ring bought, because he saw one he liked, and Corinne's engagement one is being sized. Apparently Lance's ring is very "bling bling." Hee.
Corinne's still being all Corinne-ish about the whole thing. She'll talk about names (we finally came upon a name that everyone liked for a boy. I was all "Caleb!" and Corinne was like "I just said that a second ago and neither of you responded!" Heh, I hadn't even heard. Then just came up with it myself too, a second later. Funny, no? I keep saying, if it's a boy, name it John--after Poppy--but she'd rather have it be a middle name.), but is dodging convo on most everything else. She was like "I was freaking over all this, the other night. Where will I have the money for this!" and I was like "The rings? The wedding? The baby?" and she said "All of the above." And I said "Well, I can't imagine you being the type to have a fancy wedding with caterers and all that. Just do it outside somewhere, simple, but pretty." and she was like "The weather's all crappy" and so I said "So, do it in the spring. Or the summer." and she said "by the summer, I'll be out to here! I don't want to be all fat in my wedding photos!" and I was like "Haven't you seen all the celebrities in magazines lately, showing off their pregnant bellies? I don't think pregnant woman look fat. They're beautiful!" and she was like "Still." and I said "You could have Mom standing behind you, pointing a shotgun at Lance!" Hee.
But yeah, she was all against doing it in the summer, and so I suggested spring, and she didn't like that either. I said "Wait until after the baby's born?" and she shook her head. Woman! Be a little more picky! And she still won't take the book home with her! She's so nuts. Oh, and if there were any doubts about that still, she's like "I don't know, I look like crap anyway. . ." and I was like "What? What are you talking about?" and she sort of gestured toward her face and hair, and I was like "Corinne, you could have people do your hair and makeup for you! Make you look all nice" and she was like "I feel gross, lately." She always feels gross! Crazy broad. How many times has she been stopped by model scouts now? Of course, this is the same woman who's all 34 C or D, with her tiny ass waist and everything else, and thinks she "has no boobs." Meanwhile I'll be standing next to her, really with none, like "Must. Resist. Urge. To. Smack. Insane. Big-boobed. Sister." Hee. God. I tell her "Okay, you can go ahead and think you're all short and flat, but when you're around me, Big Boobs McGee? You do not complain. You can whine when you're, you know, NOT around someone who's two/three cup sizes smaller than you, and almost five inches shorter. Comprende? Bitch." Hee. Took all the good, fucking genes in this damned family! She doesn't get to complain. Not around me. It's like a model strutting around in front of some 500 pound woman who has to use one of those scooter things to get around, like "I feel so FAT today!" Like, shut up, before I run you over with my scooter. Don't think I won't do it!
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I know what it's like to get all the shitty genes. My sister's the one who did modelling and whatnot. And although I wouldn't want to be a model, because it's one of the most pointless jobs ever and encourages people to strive towards impossible goals (and I don't have the body or looks for it anyhow... not to mention the fact that I can barely walk in heels), I still feel insulted that I've never been asked. I remember walking through uni with my best friend once, and some lady walked up to us and asked her if she wanted to model. She wouldn't even look at me. Bitch. Besides not having the right looks, I think I'm just into the lower ranges of "just too tall to be a model". My sister's a little shorter than me, and better-looking. She gets asked if she's a model. I get asked if I'm a basketball player. Hmph. Not once have I been asked if I'm a model. I've been told that I have an "interesting" face. Bah. It reminds me of a line in one of the Red Dwarf books, where Rimmer's bitchy about one of his brothers -- not sure if I remember the quote exactly, but it's along the lines of "his face looked like Rimmer's would have, if all of the features were subtly rearranged to create an infinitely more pleasing effect". That is *so* me and my sister. Although we don't look all that similar at first, a lot of it's due to colouring differences. The basic set-up of the face is the same, but her features are just a little finer, a little better in proportion. I look like a semi-female version of my brother. And I act like him, too. It's scary. You should've seen us when we both had hair the same length, and braces on our teeth. We spent Christmas morning this year yelling "It tastes like burning!" at each other. Ah, memories.
Anyway. Yeah. I so want to run models over with a scooter, whether I'm fat or not. It'll be fun! And then we could go back for our dinner party, and have wild monkey sex afterwards.
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My sis and I look absolutely NOTHING alike. I mean, you can look at the pics yourself, and see. We only make sense as siblings, when you look at pics of us next to our parents. I got Mom's features, and Dad's coloring, and Corinne got Dad's features and Mom's coloring. Mostly, anyway. Corinne also got Nanny's shrunken head (hee), and I think I look a bit like my Poppy.
Where's that "tastes like burning" thing actually come from? A friend of mine in High School used to always say that.
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"You could have Mom standing behind you, pointing a shotgun at Lance!"
That is the best idea ever.
Seriously, though, tell your sister to just go down to the justice of the peace next month and get it over with. That way she won't be showing that much and she won't have to worry about the weather.
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My Mom suggested the Justice of the peace thing to her too, she's just being all dodge-y and picky about it all right now.