i'll never be picture perfect beyonce

so even though i'm cynical and refer to boys i'm attracted to as "future ex-boyfriends", i'm in love with the idea of love. to be completely candid, i don't think i will ever find it. and i'm okay with that. but i remain completely infatuated with other people's love. i love hearing expressions of love. i love reading schmoopy, vaguely obnoxious blog entries about good relationships. and i LOVE love songs. adore. my recent obsession is a track from mariah carey's memoirs of an imperfect angel



it's called "the impossible." and i'm completely obsessed (yes, i really just did that. i know. i know.)

anyway, it's fabulous.

i love you like summertime

love you like cherry wine

love you like free money, like a preacher loves sunday

love you like a freezepop

love you like a milkshake


love you like a high school girl on a first date

love you like shooting stars

love you like a muscle car

love you like we're destined

love you like my lover and my best friend

love you like sunsets, bubble baths on the jet

love you like kool-aid, louis millionaire shades


love you like sugar daddies

love you like a holiday duncan heinz yellow cake


love you like it's 5:00 am and i want to work

love you like louis vuitton heels and a miniskirt


[some lines redacted because i can't decipher what she's saying]

so silly and ridiculous, but sincere. and i feel like if i were to fall in love, this is totally how i'd describe it.

maybe one day? maybe?

so my internship is over. almost four months of...institutionalized awkwardness is finished. of course, even though most of my time there was miserable and mindnumbing, i don't do well with endings. so of course i spent the whole day being nostalgic...

this is the last time i will walk from the capitol south metro to [insert office building here].

this is the last time this douchey security guard will do a half-hearted wanding of me

oh my god, i'll never twirl down these hallways again when i think no one else is around.

and so on and so forth. and even though none of my coworkers will receive invites to my imaginary future wedding, i did feel a deep pang of sadness when i realized i'd never see them again. it's kind of jolting to go from seeing the same cracked people daily to not seeing them at all.

the whole finding a big-girl job thing is failing pretty hardcore. though there are a couple of promising leads. though that's what i thought a month ago and none of them panned out. sigh. recession, be gone, please. thanks.

i just want to be able to shop again. i don't think that's a lot to ask for. forever 21 is screeching for me. and so is h&m. i live for luxuries.

yesterday, i was introduced to the wonderful world of...









WIGS!

i never had a problem with wigs. i thought they were funky and fun. and i've always been dissatisfied with my natural hair. but the idea of rocking a wig made me nervous. i thought it would be too artificial. i didn't want to worry about answering questions about the non-realness of my hair. when i was younger, i used to wear synthetic braids, and anytime i transitioned from my natural short hair to my brandy-like braids




people (well, elementary school kids) would always be so...intrigued/disgusted. so i'd feel so self-conscious. but now, i'm finally at the point where i'm like...yo, it's my hair. and i can choose to do whatever i want with it. as tlc said,

you can buy your hair if it won't grow

so that's what i want to do. start a fucking fierce wig collection and change styles/lengths/colors and it will be awesome.

yay! i feel like i've been in a fashion rut for quite some time, so i'm excited to add some different flair/funkiness to my overall aesthetic.

so i guess i should acknowledge the vmas, even if i'm far from timely at this point.

kanye west is a complete douchemonster, and his complete disrespect for taylor swift winning her first award was just pathetic and tacky. i've been pretty madly in love with him for about five years, and though i enjoy taylor swift, she's not part of my holy trifecta of awesome female pop stars. but he has engaged in just too many shenanigans, and it's like, get some class, louis vuitton don. christ. i mean, yes, beyonce is fabulous. everyone knows it. let someone else have a moment.



this made me a little bit teary. i watched it three or four times, and every. single. time. i got choked up. i don't know what it was exactly. i mean, obviously, beyonce knew it would make her look like the epitome of lovely, but at the same time, it was just such a cool display of, like, female solidarty and a queen acknowleding a new princess, blair crowning jenny fierceness. and it was awesome.

oh, by the way, i know people were underwhelmed, but i thought janet jackson KILLED IT. those 90 seconds were unadulterated passion.

and you know i was head over heels for lady gaga faking her own death in the middle of "paparazzi."



okay. and i'm done.

i leave with underrated fabulosity:

2009 MTV VMAs: Pink – Sober

so i really love validation from dudes. and yes, i'm very much ashamed. it doesn't matter who it's from. i love being hit on walking down the street. i like that the guys who hand out newspapers outside the metro in the morning give me a little extra attention and call me "cutie." i like when i get explicit texts/e-mails from dudes that i would never let near my friends' vaginas, let alone my own.

i'm sure it's a symptom of low self-esteem. also, because i was a fug, hot mess for almost two decades, so no guys ever thought i was worth talking to, so it gives me a little thrill when one deigns to flirt with me, regardless of the sleaze factor.

oh, whatever, it is what it is.

i am too stoked for the vmas today. i haven't been this interested since britney and justin were both virgins.

the title? my official stance on my last post. so i'm over it. dirt is officially off my my shoulder.

my dad put $60 in my account. he called this "a little bit" of money. i call this, "food for the next two-three weeks." jesus christ on a cracker, do i need a job. i am not meant to live like this. especially here. when one moves from a tiny college town to a big city, your baller status is supposed to elevate, not decline.

7 more days of interning. if i don't have a job by then....sup, lincoln memorial, i'm going to dive off you into the washington monument reflecting pool. and it will be glorious.

i should really stay away from cute, skinny boys who live in virginia. i'm starting to feel just a little abused like a coffee machine in an office.