Harry Potter and the T-Shirt of Truth
Take note JKR, I’m writing a book. Actually I’m thinking I need a Harry Potter t-shirt. No, it doesn’t have the bespeckled teenage wizard on it, but it would be a magical t-shirt. Kinda like Hermione’s time traveler thingy, I’d be able to do great things with it. Terrible. But Great.
I’ve decided I need a t-shirt that tells people the truth. Cause sometimes I seriously cannot. In the words of Dr. Phil, whom CB and I have decided needs to “fuck the fucked up married people, and help get us single people laid,” I need some tools to open myself up. I realized at the always enlightening “Ladies Night” at Gatsby’s (yes, the Martini bar) that I have a fine line between disinterested and interested, bored and introspective that perhaps I fail to differentiate for people. After a discussion or two about this, including references to Dawson’s Creek (a guy telling Joey she acted like someone who had a boyfriend holding them back), Miss Congeniality (Gracie and Caine’s character: discussion about why she’s alone), and Third Watch (detective and Santeria man’s discussion about why she’s alone), I’ve decided I need a Dr. Phil desk calendar. So I need a t-shirt that tells certain people what I think of them. Cause I can’t. I think it would be blue with Scrolly-esque letters. At various times, here’s what it would say…
I heart you. Big time. Amazing personality and devastatingly beautiful. Especially since I’m attractive to business men who are slightly older than me and enjoy the beach, and hell I’m hot too, I think we’d have beautiful babies. Or we could just make out, one of the two. Let’s get lifted.
But there’s something you’re holding back…
I don’t like working with you. You’re research is boring. Thanks.
Move bitch, get out my way. And learn how to drive while you are at it!
Just cause you’re 38 doesn’t mean I wont date ya! So apply for kissing rights and we’ll be all good. Your cute racquetball partner is invited to apply as welllll.
A-Rod, Carl Pavano, and Bubby Crosby….I want to have your children!!!! And yes they look this good without the push-up bra! :c)
I’m soo lucky to have you in my life.
After being hit on by two semi-attractive men at the Southern Wedding, I returned to Miami. As I paid my bill at the remote parking lot, the attendant told me I was “pretty.” Welcome back to Miami, JLM. Where the sketchy men like you and the evolutionarily viable don’t look twice. Sweet. CB feels, and I quote, “Miami men do not seem to understand social function. I feel the caliber of the Y chromosome there is diluted…as though someone was peeing in the gene pool.” I however, choose to invoke cognitive dissonance. And keep trying.
I feel like I should have more to talk about than just men. Mea culpa. I’m wearing Deborah Lippman’s nailpolish called “No More Drama” created with Mary J. Blige. Way cool. I know. I’m planning to sunbathe topless at South beach before next Wednesday. Jesus Christ. I’m starting my Master’s Thesis and my very own project this week/summer. As you can tell by my t-shirt, I’m gonna go to a Yankees game May 5th. My cousin doesn’t know what he’s in for. Pobre chico. Today I learned that guys looove French manicures…especially on the toes. I’ve gotta say, I’m anti FM on the toes…FM on the nails and bright color on the toes. Boys, take note. Color means interesting. And just cause I’m Catholic doesn’t mean I’m doing the “new pope happy dance.” I don’t really care. I’m the catholic who thinks she could become jewish so she doesn’t have to worry about eating meat on Fridays. Please. And let’s talk about the benefits of bikini waxing. Do it.
I want to come back to Miami.
“See I would if I could do anything spontaneously.”
I’ve decided I need a t-shirt that tells people the truth. Cause sometimes I seriously cannot. In the words of Dr. Phil, whom CB and I have decided needs to “fuck the fucked up married people, and help get us single people laid,” I need some tools to open myself up. I realized at the always enlightening “Ladies Night” at Gatsby’s (yes, the Martini bar) that I have a fine line between disinterested and interested, bored and introspective that perhaps I fail to differentiate for people. After a discussion or two about this, including references to Dawson’s Creek (a guy telling Joey she acted like someone who had a boyfriend holding them back), Miss Congeniality (Gracie and Caine’s character: discussion about why she’s alone), and Third Watch (detective and Santeria man’s discussion about why she’s alone), I’ve decided I need a Dr. Phil desk calendar. So I need a t-shirt that tells certain people what I think of them. Cause I can’t. I think it would be blue with Scrolly-esque letters. At various times, here’s what it would say…
I heart you. Big time. Amazing personality and devastatingly beautiful. Especially since I’m attractive to business men who are slightly older than me and enjoy the beach, and hell I’m hot too, I think we’d have beautiful babies. Or we could just make out, one of the two. Let’s get lifted.
But there’s something you’re holding back…
I don’t like working with you. You’re research is boring. Thanks.
Move bitch, get out my way. And learn how to drive while you are at it!
Just cause you’re 38 doesn’t mean I wont date ya! So apply for kissing rights and we’ll be all good. Your cute racquetball partner is invited to apply as welllll.
A-Rod, Carl Pavano, and Bubby Crosby….I want to have your children!!!! And yes they look this good without the push-up bra! :c)
I’m soo lucky to have you in my life.
After being hit on by two semi-attractive men at the Southern Wedding, I returned to Miami. As I paid my bill at the remote parking lot, the attendant told me I was “pretty.” Welcome back to Miami, JLM. Where the sketchy men like you and the evolutionarily viable don’t look twice. Sweet. CB feels, and I quote, “Miami men do not seem to understand social function. I feel the caliber of the Y chromosome there is diluted…as though someone was peeing in the gene pool.” I however, choose to invoke cognitive dissonance. And keep trying.
I feel like I should have more to talk about than just men. Mea culpa. I’m wearing Deborah Lippman’s nailpolish called “No More Drama” created with Mary J. Blige. Way cool. I know. I’m planning to sunbathe topless at South beach before next Wednesday. Jesus Christ. I’m starting my Master’s Thesis and my very own project this week/summer. As you can tell by my t-shirt, I’m gonna go to a Yankees game May 5th. My cousin doesn’t know what he’s in for. Pobre chico. Today I learned that guys looove French manicures…especially on the toes. I’ve gotta say, I’m anti FM on the toes…FM on the nails and bright color on the toes. Boys, take note. Color means interesting. And just cause I’m Catholic doesn’t mean I’m doing the “new pope happy dance.” I don’t really care. I’m the catholic who thinks she could become jewish so she doesn’t have to worry about eating meat on Fridays. Please. And let’s talk about the benefits of bikini waxing. Do it.
I want to come back to Miami.
“See I would if I could do anything spontaneously.”
posted by Cat at 11:28 PM
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