05.19.03
This weekend was such waste. BF and I spent Friday night at the mall trying to find some 'appropriate' pants for him to wear to the wedding on Saturday. He fucking hated it. Finally (like pulling freaking teeth) he agreed on some khaki pants from Old Navy. BF absolutely loathes that store and just about every other store in the entire world. He refuses to shop in the mall, I guess that he thinks that by shopping at the mall, you are giving into the "man". (HA!) I mean, according to him, if you even LOOK at Abercrombie & Fitch you might as well get a lobotomy, stamp a barcode on your forehead, and listen to cheesy 'pop' music. If it were left up to him, he would wear the same ratty jeans for the rest of his natural life. The same ones that his step-mom bought him while he was in high school. But anyways. So here we are Saturday morning looking S-P-I-F-F-Y! Him: clean-shaven with aforementioned khaki pants & a button-down shirt. Me: minus piercings, long linen summer skirt & top. (Yeah, we were totally styl-ie) Then we piled ourselves in the car & started with the best of intentions. It took just over 2 hours to get there, with the last 30 minutes of the drive happening on some narrowly treacherous mountain road that went straight up into the clouds - I shit you not. We were forced to drive 12 miles an hour with the windshield wipers on super blast speed trying to keep the window clear enough to see 5 feet in front of the car. So when we finally stopped the car at the mountain lodge, the open bar there was a great relief... Ahh... Her wedding was beautiful, no doubt. Instead of pianos and corny singers, there were incredible jazz musicians. Our friend Carrie sang a song that she wrote especially for the couple & played her acoustic guitar. There was really really good food & lots of beer & wine. I say now that I would like to have a wedding just like Tracey's. You know, if I ever get married. Well, yada-yada... Fun... drink... & then suddenly leave. Yeah. Don't ask me why I decided halfway through the party that BF and I should just leave. Call it paranoia. Call me sensitive. Call me a stupid, petty person. Wait a minute! Don't call me anything. I think it was after about the 40th comment I got about my hair (no more dreads), or maybe after a few people seemed to be fucking deaf-mutes when I ask them how they've been (snobs). Maybe it was after Cary Ann's stupid looking BF asked me how I got my hair straight & I asked him how he got his chin to look just like my ass. Maybe it was then when I decided I didn't want to be there anymore. I figured that nobody would notice that we were gone, since nobody seemed to notice that we were there in the first place. I understand that Tracey was a little busy getting married & didn't have time for chit-chat. I am not too demanding. Both her mom & sister came up and hugged me - telling me all about the week that they had spent decorating... and how glad they were to see me there. And Tracey called me out of the audience to hold her bouquet. But I felt weird. Suddenly like I don't belong around these people anymore. And maybe (just maybe) I don't belong around anyone anymore. Fuck those bitches, man... Fuck those bitches. My new favorite website is : www.romp.com |
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