Why is everyone being mean to Frankie but acting like he's overly sensitive? I mean what I say. They're being mean and making it hard for everyone else. Órla Karron Fallon is the major public force in the universe, an Irish gal with a (Norman) French last name, real French, from Normandy. We had to check her Twitter and Facebook. Also, things seem to have come up, at the time, it so happened. Before, she was pregnant, not sure how much of that quality time had elapsed. I know I started watching "The Ellen DeGeneres Show" and probably had to let out some weird ideas and tried to retreat.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Contagious
So, watching "The Ellen DeGeneres Show," I was thinking of, "Grandma got run over by a reindeer." Well, all the white people in the U.S. have ancestors from snowy climates. It just was wrong that the humor of it was twisted to me. I think it's not supposed to be that way. I mean, if it were, okay, but I think it was just a mistake. Why am I uptight that I might forget more about important things I haven't written down I've imagined? I mean, I might, but it's not "because Mrs. Ellen DeGeneres says so." How corny, ha haha ha ha. 3D She is shaped like a block of ice.
Acting I
You had your chance to talk last night. I begged you to come upstairs with me. I was looking for romance and instead I got a petrified woman standing in my doorway. I never want to hear the sound of your voice again, do you understand?
*suddenly sees petrified woman*
*outbreaks at "voice"*
There's a key to the back door. Stick to the hallway and your room and you won't get hurt.
*talks like she's a dog or visitor, like a ghost idea*
*like Beauty & the Beast*
Not in my apartment. I don't want to see you. Cover the mirrors when you walk through the house. And I'm sick and tired of smelling your cooking. I've had it up to here with your polyunsaturated oils. Now get that spaghetti off of my table.
*toilet room in dream*
*mirrors like jewelry revealing explicit material*
*softens at cooking and polyunsaturated oils*
*spaghetti like @ Disney that is gone!*
What the hell's so funny about it?
(pasta hurled)
Now it's garbage!!
I like it.
*crossly, contradicting*
You touch one strand of that linguini and I'll break every sinus in your head.
*"insane," manic*
I'll tell you exactly what it is. It's the cooking, the cleaning and the crying. It's the moose calls that open your ears at two o'clock in the morning. I can't take it anymore, Florence, I'm cracking up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you're not here, the things I know you're going to do when you come in irritate me ... You leave me little notes on my pillow. "We're all out of corn flakes. F.U." ... It took me three hours to figure out that F.U. was Florence Unger ... It's no one's fault, Florence. We're just a rotten pair.
*raises eyebrow @ F.U.*
*ecstatic @ 3 hours of blank*
That's just the frame. The picture I haven't even painted yet ... Every night in my diary I write down the things you did that day that aggravate me ... This is June and so far I filled up till January ... And I haven't even put down the Gaspacho Brothers yet.
*into space*
*like Anne Frank*
What sex life? I can't even have dirty dreams. You come in and clean them up.
*earnest, no sex life!*
Don't point that finger at me unless you intend to use it.
*violent, eyes bulging*
What's this? A display of temper? I haven't seen you really angry since the day I dropped my eyelashes in your pancake batter.
*thinking @ the past, crossly*
I'm trembling all over. Look how I'm trembling all over.
*like My Fair Lady, sits down in chair, "without you--*
... If I've just been told off, I think I may have missed it.
*insane*
Good.
I see.
Is that so?
Is that it?
What is that, a Cole Porter song?
*staring at her like she's weird, in lala land*
Good. Because now I'm going to tell -you- off ... For eight months, I've lived all alone in this apartment. I thought I was miserable. I thought I was lonely. I took you in here because I thought we could help each other ... And after three weeks of close, personal contact, I have hives, shingles and the heartbreak of psoriasis ... I am growing old at twice the speed of sound ... I have seven new liver spots on my hand that look like the Big Dipper ... I can't take any more, Florence ... Do me a favor and move into a kitchen. Live with your pots, your pans, your ladle and your meat thermometer ... I'm going inside to lie down now ... My teeth are coming lose and I'm afraid if I drop them in here, you'll get out your vacuum cleaner again.
*as if no one was even listening!..*
In the kitchen! I want to get your head in the oven and cook it like a capon.
*not feeling well..*
It's no use running, Florence. There's only six rooms and I know all the shortcuts.
*threateningly*
*suddenly sees petrified woman*
*outbreaks at "voice"*
There's a key to the back door. Stick to the hallway and your room and you won't get hurt.
*talks like she's a dog or visitor, like a ghost idea*
*like Beauty & the Beast*
Not in my apartment. I don't want to see you. Cover the mirrors when you walk through the house. And I'm sick and tired of smelling your cooking. I've had it up to here with your polyunsaturated oils. Now get that spaghetti off of my table.
*toilet room in dream*
*mirrors like jewelry revealing explicit material*
*softens at cooking and polyunsaturated oils*
*spaghetti like @ Disney that is gone!*
What the hell's so funny about it?
(pasta hurled)
Now it's garbage!!
I like it.
*crossly, contradicting*
You touch one strand of that linguini and I'll break every sinus in your head.
*"insane," manic*
I'll tell you exactly what it is. It's the cooking, the cleaning and the crying. It's the moose calls that open your ears at two o'clock in the morning. I can't take it anymore, Florence, I'm cracking up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you're not here, the things I know you're going to do when you come in irritate me ... You leave me little notes on my pillow. "We're all out of corn flakes. F.U." ... It took me three hours to figure out that F.U. was Florence Unger ... It's no one's fault, Florence. We're just a rotten pair.
*raises eyebrow @ F.U.*
*ecstatic @ 3 hours of blank*
That's just the frame. The picture I haven't even painted yet ... Every night in my diary I write down the things you did that day that aggravate me ... This is June and so far I filled up till January ... And I haven't even put down the Gaspacho Brothers yet.
*into space*
*like Anne Frank*
What sex life? I can't even have dirty dreams. You come in and clean them up.
*earnest, no sex life!*
Don't point that finger at me unless you intend to use it.
*violent, eyes bulging*
What's this? A display of temper? I haven't seen you really angry since the day I dropped my eyelashes in your pancake batter.
*thinking @ the past, crossly*
I'm trembling all over. Look how I'm trembling all over.
*like My Fair Lady, sits down in chair, "without you--*
... If I've just been told off, I think I may have missed it.
*insane*
Good.
I see.
Is that so?
Is that it?
What is that, a Cole Porter song?
*staring at her like she's weird, in lala land*
Good. Because now I'm going to tell -you- off ... For eight months, I've lived all alone in this apartment. I thought I was miserable. I thought I was lonely. I took you in here because I thought we could help each other ... And after three weeks of close, personal contact, I have hives, shingles and the heartbreak of psoriasis ... I am growing old at twice the speed of sound ... I have seven new liver spots on my hand that look like the Big Dipper ... I can't take any more, Florence ... Do me a favor and move into a kitchen. Live with your pots, your pans, your ladle and your meat thermometer ... I'm going inside to lie down now ... My teeth are coming lose and I'm afraid if I drop them in here, you'll get out your vacuum cleaner again.
*as if no one was even listening!..*
In the kitchen! I want to get your head in the oven and cook it like a capon.
*not feeling well..*
It's no use running, Florence. There's only six rooms and I know all the shortcuts.
*threateningly*
What's Down
So, my dad got me 2 like medium-ish trash cans, which remind me of Africa! dark brown.
Gotta go prepare lunch - sausage, if we got fish ... peel cucumber, wash lettuce, pack the brown stuff, hope my credit card will get me my diet choco smoothie. Oh yes, see if we have chicken or the honey ham, with the ranch, cheese whatever we got, lettuce or greens, on a wheat wrap my dad got. Not even sure how I am getting to school. Maybe, I can listen to music, dunno.. don't really feel like doing this, my dad thinks my EBT card will work elsewhere. 4:52 A.M. I better get to packin'. :0
Gotta go prepare lunch - sausage, if we got fish ... peel cucumber, wash lettuce, pack the brown stuff, hope my credit card will get me my diet choco smoothie. Oh yes, see if we have chicken or the honey ham, with the ranch, cheese whatever we got, lettuce or greens, on a wheat wrap my dad got. Not even sure how I am getting to school. Maybe, I can listen to music, dunno.. don't really feel like doing this, my dad thinks my EBT card will work elsewhere. 4:52 A.M. I better get to packin'. :0
A Nice, Artistic Girl-
It is hard to say that I am meaner than my mom. I only get upset if something happens to do with my little brother.
She is ***y? What does that say about me? My dad isn't un***y compared to other dudes. I don't know any really ***y guys. Maybe, I'm gay. Don't I have a choice to try to be ***y? Am I just genetic shit? I don't believe I would ever be like my dad in a way I don't want to be, though I find myself looking like my mom in weird ways. You think maybe it's a psychiatric problem? Maybe, my mom is just a really good person. Well, I know this guy in England with a nice dad and a ***y mom. His dad is a classical composer but supposedly died when we met. }3 He was sick. I guess my dad scraped for what he could muster and er I am an avid classical artist, as well..
She is ***y? What does that say about me? My dad isn't un***y compared to other dudes. I don't know any really ***y guys. Maybe, I'm gay. Don't I have a choice to try to be ***y? Am I just genetic shit? I don't believe I would ever be like my dad in a way I don't want to be, though I find myself looking like my mom in weird ways. You think maybe it's a psychiatric problem? Maybe, my mom is just a really good person. Well, I know this guy in England with a nice dad and a ***y mom. His dad is a classical composer but supposedly died when we met. }3 He was sick. I guess my dad scraped for what he could muster and er I am an avid classical artist, as well..
The Image @ the Ft.L Police
I saw a demented man with a wicked grin on Twitter. That used to be my aunt, but she moved to NW Florida, not on the beach, between Orlando and Gainesville.. She was so interested in me when e-mail came out and we became Barretts-in-New-Orleans..my friend's family did the same thing..I'm also up at Rochester where the other aunt from Fort Lauderdale lived a year, with her illegitimate daughter.
Crazy Intentions
Why is my dad like a Looney Tune or Mickey Mouse about not having fun meaning you're good? I don't kid around. I know the world is about having fun and that problems are ill-intended.
Mockery
I'm so annoyed I keep getting pitted with these sudden, annoying, unexpected or whatever sorta really tacky, cutting images of things to mock me, like I'm in some program, like I'm perverted to want love from adults.
Cool Orleans
I had this really cool friend supposedly from San Fransisco who had lots of cats. She was just all around the center of attention, whether or not she knows. She is 1 year older, a month, or maybe so, I think, shy. I remember because I saw her for her birthday, a bit after, once or twice, and she showed me she finally got some hip clothing. She knew the popular boy in her year, though born in October or November, from New Orleans, whose best friend died. She sat with him at pep rallies. He was so, like, attractive when I interacted with him, like at P.E., sometimes or at least once at length, with the classes separated into 4. The school was about 200 students per year. It seems like all we could think about was like oh should you have been on like the dance team? What about ballet, anyway? What was I thinking? What happens to people with dark hair? I did fit in. I did make flag team, but since my friend didn't I didn't do it. They train with band, 1 hour during the day, which would have replaced Art II, "Advanced" Drawing and Painting, and after school a lot. I guess it was a bit difficult, I mean they don't do this in junior high all the time. It seemed like I'd make it. Actually, I was hoping the boy would stay and I'd stay in it. The drama teacher left, too. Hardly anyone was in drama, and no one my age, the other few a bit older. That boy was in choir, too, and sang Titanic as a solo. I didn't try to get in Talented Music until later. I found I wanted to quit when I got older and heard it would have been better so much if I did it the 1st year with the other teacher who left. It was so sucky after my initial year! I guess a year of Talented Theater did it, too. The community theater had a dying agenda. I didn't do theater at NOCCA because Classical Instrumental Music for piano was more smart and connected the arts, better, and gave me more valuable tools. I might not have went back were I still in high school. It's not a reliable program and may be for mainstream New Orleanians. It was fun in the summer, but they don't let you board, since I went.
Continental Divide
People from South Carolina think they are very Southern, more than New Orleans. Georgia is special and feels more like the same. I'm guessing that anywhere other than Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Kentucky, maybe the Capitol, feel more Southern than New Orleans. Even places like Las Vegas feel more like barren and wild yet more civilized.
An' I Can' Fight This Feeling Anymore
What do you think of the funny feeling for whatever reason the guy actor carrying away darling Cosette in Les Misérables, seemed like he pointedly drew in the forces or whatever the word is, summoned, of Tim Burton, like he's a pedophile? I really don't believe in not doing something about anything, the way I never got online. The thing is I did get online, it so happened, when I was 20, well 21. Anyway, I wanted to IM with my friends and e-mail people. I just never thought of Blogger but probably should have known it was invented after awhile. I didn't even know which high school nor college I was going to until I went.
How shall I do it? 8>
Did you think it was a big deal it's Tim Burton's fault that all this popular stuff went out of style? Think of how he did it.
ma-a-ad
When the n word thing happened with Tim Burton's daughter, the Blackberry stopped going in style. Photobucket has video ads when loading. Twitter took down the option to see lots of pix at once, though in the past week you can flip through them. I NEED A NEW CELL PHONE.
night train
So, I woke up and had ... I know liverwurst, 2 thin slices of pizza, 2 sushis (my dad didn't get more,) Reeses my parents gave me.. (forgot to put giant Reeses on my grocery list,) and now waiting for somehting I haven't had in awhile ... Fettucini Alfredo! to coo'! I have leftover hot dog. I hope my dad got the chicken to make the wraps, if not will use sliced honey ham.
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