Poor Mariah! -and for the first (and hopefully last) time, no sarcasm is intended in that statement. I genuinely feel for my dear little roommate. Long distance relationships must suck immesurably. I know I couldn't keep one up; sustained soley by phone calls and Facebook, sleeping alone every night, constantly longing for the embrace of a tall, gangly Swede... I'd give up after about 4 and a half days. I don't have the emotional stamina that Mariah and Martin have. And I sincerly wish them the best....so that when they get married I can be a BRIDESMAID DAMMIT. Can wear a pretty dress and sit at the big table? Please? Think about it.
Anyway, the only qualm I have with Mariah's last post is this: what's wrong with making chainsaw noises, spandex and ballroom dancing 10 year olds? I'll tell you what's wrong: nothing, that's what. I'll have you know that after kittens, money, and 30 Rock, those are a few of my favorite things. In fact, I make chainsaw noises ALL THE TIME... WITH my boyfriend WHILE wearing spandex and watzing with a fourth grader. It's a hobby. So maybe think first before you imply that certain activities are undertaken only by those who are sad and alone and consider that maybe they are perfectly happy and just a bit odd.
But you really should shave your legs darling. Remember I've got to see them everyday so let's not let ourselves go completely, eh?
xxoo Hannah
Conversation of the Day:
Jet- We kicked their asses FOUR times!
Me- But we've only played three games...
The Boy- And only won two...
Jet- But that's what I'm SAYING. We won FIVE games you guys! I want a REMATCH!
Me- Jet... I don't know how to say this gently, but are you familiar with the order of numbers?
Jet- Fuck you Tori! We won EIGHT games!
Me- Out of three...
Jet- Hannah, I want you to have this: (*gives hug*). We are the greatest team EVER.
The Boy- Yeah you are.
Moral of story- Screw math. Numbers are whatever we want them to be.
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