Thursday, July 03, 2003

On The Road Again
Well, I'm off to the exotic locale of South Haven for the holiday weekend. Road trip with my best bud, you must understand. We'll sing songs, etc.
I'll be staying on a yacht. Isn't that a cool word?
I'll tell you all about it when I get home.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:59 PM

This Is Just To Say
For the person that came to my site hoping to find "a poem to apologize to my mom for not being perfect":

This is just to say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
-William Carlos Williams

Thank you, misled reader, for giving me an excuse to post my favorite poem.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 10:31 AM

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

Shedding All Pretense That I Am A Well-Rounded Person
Am I the only one that finds it amusing that both Terminator 3 and Legally Blonde 2 open on the same day? Can you imagine the people mixing at the ticket booth line? It makes me want to paint my fingernails and put on stilletos and squeal, "Like, OH MY GOD!" just thinking about it. (Not to look like a crackwhore, but to see how the sci-fi tough guys react).
Lauren reminded me of how I once wrote a list of 100 hundred reasons why I could never star in a romantic comedy. In ode to Reese Witherspoon, Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts, and all other romantic comedy actresses, may I present "100 Reasons Why Melly Could Never Star In A Romantic Comedy: The Best Of"
-I am unable to eat a pint of ice cream straight from the carton in wallowing self-pity. My ice cream tastes require chocolate sauce, and I hate having the sauce tainted by cardboard.
-I look bad in white, rendering me unable to wear a wedding dress. The drama always happens at the wedding, you know.
-Josh Hartnett's taken, Ashton Kutcher smokes, Colin Farrel doesn't do romance or comedy, Hugh Grant is way too old, and the rest of Hollywood isn't worth mentioning as my co-star.
-I will not succumb to a poppy soundtrack, nor a country one, nor 80's; I will not. And Norah Jones is overdone in this genre.
-I do not have a cute, miniture dog to tote around in a designer purse (nor do I have a designer purse, for that matter). Besides, I would be afraid that it would poop on all the cosmetics that are most probably inside.
-I have no experience. And obviously, real-life romantic comedy behavior would get most arrested. Decorating a beautiful stranger's (can you HEAR the Madonna now?) trendy flat with rose petals would not be considered "romantic", it would be considered "breaking and entering."
And the number one reason why I will never star in a romantic comedy:
-I HATE movies in which you already know how it will end as soon as the main characters are introduced.
Yet I head off to the cinema tonight for yet another overly blonde summer sequel (See Saturday, June 28), mostly because I'm craving some fake-buttered popcorn.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:06 PM

Monday, June 30, 2003

Oh the pain! Oh the butt!
For future reference, no one should be subjected to the horrible experience of having a steel volleyball pole that easily weighs as much as you do (if you weigh around 100 pounds) dropped on your ass.
I have an interesting bruise forming there, it's pretty much a straight line 4 inches wide going down my back and down my, for lack of better word, crack. Woohoo! Insert snicker giggles here!
At least it's centered. It also improves your posture, because if you slump in the slightest your nerves send up wavelengths of pain, because, well, nerves are a pain in general.
On a completely unrelated note, what business does the Home And Garden Network have with telling us how to turn our old cutting boards into decorative cakeplates?
The general public is enraged.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 7:26 PM

Sunday, June 29, 2003

I Wanna Be A Supermodel So Everyone Will Learn to Dress Like Me....C'mon, You Remember That Song
I love clothes. They are the fodder for my materialistic lifestyle. Clothes are really the only thing I spend my money on at all, thanks to the free food and rent provided by my parents and the ease of illegally downloading music off of the net-o-sphere(!). I don't even like very interesting clothes, I love clothes that look indistinguishable from all of the other clothes from a certain season. I frequently see other girls wearing the same t-shirts that I own. I came to a scary conclusion today: I like mainstream. I like blending in.
I had a dress-up chest when I was little. It was a box full of princess gowns and wedding gowns and Jasmine and Ariel and Snow White and old t-shirts. I would put outfits on to be the outfits, even though I didn't know that then. I assosciated the dress with who I wanted to be. We all kind of do that throughout life, don't we? We express ourselves through our dress, projecting our self-image.
I played dress-up today, but with my own clothing. Real things instead of pretend. I layered tanks over button-up tees, polos over prints, jackets everywhere. I weaved different belts around my torso. I painted my toenails different colors. I put every single bracelet I own on my wrists, clashing and beautiful. I pinned my hair up. I found a necklace made out of paperclips.
I must look like a very strange sight; mismatched and overaccesorised. There's so many things on me that one would find it hard to find me, Melly. But then I thought-- this is me. Everything I own has a memory attatched, and I'm showing it all. I'm displaying me, not the catalouge posessions as they are supposed to look.
I think this liberating albeit wushy-washy conclusion is what a lot of optimistic hobos must think about their grocery carts.
Nevertheless, I'm going out tonight. And I'm not going to change.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 5:01 PM