My mother

This is not another pointless rant.

Right now, I am blogging from my phone in my car outside of church. I
just had my guitar lesson and mother said that she can't drop home
because she'll be late for church - we had enough time to go to the
shops though.

I don't know who it is, but my mother always talks to this one person
on her second secret phone that my dad doesn't know about. Like I
said, I don't know who it is, but she talks to him like my sister
talks to her 6 year boyfriend.

Please, lady, I'm not that naive, and without validation, I'm just
assuming the worst.

Things I expect from my mother:
- feed my family
- pay the bills
- pick me up from shool whe the weather is bad
- shower my siblings and me material love

My mum says she loves my siblings and me. I don't doubt that. It's
just that it'd be nice if she could show us that with hugs and kisses
and actually saying so, not bloody 10 laptops, 2 iPhones, LCD tvs and
new clothes. None of us care about material love.

I think if my mum actually loved me like she should, I would actually
be able to say 'I love you' for once. It's just to weird for my
siblings to say that - even if it's just about our favourite movie.
The only time I hear one of my siblings say 'I love you' is when my
sister says it to her boyfriend.

And yet, my mother is able to flirt shamelessly and be all lovey dovey
to this stranger on the phone.

It's a lost cause. My siblings and I are all square-eyed, cold hearted
bastards. Even my baby pooti.

I can't say I'm depressed or angry or anything really. I know that my
beautiful friends and anyone else reading this probably has actual
problems unlike me and my petty complaining.

I'm sorry of this offends because you're going though someting really
horrible now. I really do send you my love.

I must go. Mother has just walked into the car on the phone again. I
hope we have a minor crash because of her on the phone while driving.
Sent from my iPhone

Nightlight: A Twilight Parody

Lol, I was in Angus & Robertsons today when I swaw this:

“About three things I was absolutely certain.

First, Edwart was most likely my soul mate, maybe. 

Second, there was a vampire part of him–which I assumed was wildly out of his control–that wanted me dead. 

And third, I unconditionally, irrevocably, impenetrably, heterogeneously, gynecologically, and disreputably wished he had kissed me."

Having read the Twilight Saga myself, I do believe that it is ripe for ridicule, and Nightlight does a hilariours job at it. Complete with creepy stalker-like behaviour, vampire proms and humour, Nightlight is an insulting parody of Twilight with sequels coming soon. Belle Goose is confused as to why the super-hot Edwart Mullen never eats. She soon discovers that Edwart is a vampire after he saved her from a showball and spending the rest of the book trying to get him to kiss her.

Juvenile? Maybe, but I couldn’t help snickering at this parody of Twilight, written by the Harvard Lampoon. I wouldn’t pay $16.99 for the whole thing, but if I cared more about Twilight…maybe.

Anyway, here's an excerpt:

********************

It was then that I saw him. He was sitting at a table all by himself, not even eating. He had an entire tray of baked potatoes in front of him and still, he did not touch a single one. How could a human have his pick of baked potatoes and resist them all? Even odder, he hadn’t noticed me, Belle Goose, future Academy Award winner.

A computer sat before him on the table. He stared intently at the screen, narrowing his eyes into slits and concentrating those slits on the screen as if the only thing that mattered to him was physically dominating that screen. He was muscular, like a man who could pin you up against the wall as easily as a poster, yet lean, like a man who would rather cradle you in his arms. He had reddish, blonde-brown hair that was groomed heterosexually. He looked older than the other boys in the room—maybe not as old as God or my father, but certainly a viable replacement. Imagine if you took every woman’s idea of a hot guy and averaged it out into one man. This was that man.

“What is that?” I asked, knowing that whatever it was it wasn’t avian.

“That’s Edwart Mullen,” Lucy said.

Edwart. I had never met a boy named Edwart before. Actually, I had never met any human named Edwart before. It was a funny sounding name. Much funnier than Edward.

As we sat there, gazing at him for what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been more than the entire lunch period, his eyes suddenly flicked toward me, slithering over my face and boring into my heart like fangs. Then in a flash they went back to glowering at that screen. 

“He moved here two years ago from Alaska,” she said.

So not only was he pale like me, but he was also an outsider from a state that begins with an “A.” I felt a surge of empathy. I had never felt a connection like this before.

“That boy’s not worth your time,” she said wrongly. “Edwart doesn’t date.” 

I smirked inwardly and snorted outwardly. So, I would be his first girlfriend.

********************

Let us go to Paris!

Can I say I love Wendy Bevan?! She takes stunning polaroids. So pale and original and slightly frightening in some...

 

 

Yes, and I'll be hoping to attend the So Frenchy, So Chic, So L!ve concert  this month!

I am in absolute love with those bands. Go Cocoon!