The Sad & the Pathetic: Issue 27

27-What is up foo?

Well I'll be. . . I've only attempted to kill Scott once or twice. . .and 
I've only thought about ending his life ten or eleven times. He needs a 
beating. . . Where is Tony's brother when I need something taken care of? 
hmm. . .we have had two arguments. . both where I'm the idiot and should 
just shut up. The first would be. . that he's a "man" while I'm a "girl". I 
don't have a problem with being a girl vs a woman. What I'm opposed to is 
that my brother supposedly a man. I don't think so. The next would be when 
Scott comes home wearing a "I love Hooters" sticker. He apparently went to 
lunch there and thinks it's a fine restaurant. Personally I think Hooters is 
disgusting. I actually have eaten there and what made me especially nauseous 
was that there were families there. *gag* The food by the way is very good, 
but then it was between that and Dominos. So apparently Scott has no problem 
with the exploitation of women's bodies. I think that maybe I've been at 
Smith too long. It's just that most women are more than just objects and the 
fact that they can make better money putting on a small t-shirt than using 
their brain is a sad commentary on our own society. I have nothing against 
the waitresses or strippers or anything like that. I just don't like the 
idea that my brother is a pig. Although I know that he's a brat. Allora. . . 

So I saw Tara today! Say hello to Tara everyone. *monotone* Hello Tara. . 
.that was lame folks. sheesh. Anyway. . I'd like to share a little excerpt 
from a story she shared. Context? First date. She's sitting in his car as he 
starts it. 
"I have to milk it first." (as he's starting the car) 
"You know I could drive my car." 
"No, no I got it." 
(finally gets it started. . driving) 
(loud clunk as something falls out) 
"Oh shit. . *(slows down pulls over and goes to get whatever fell out of his 
car and then climbs under and attaches it) 

Now that is romantic. When I go on dates. . (which being the dateless wonder 
I don't have to worry about it. . thank god) that's how I like them to start. 
hmmm. .. 
Well what can I say? Surely I have something completely useless to write 
about. So I was talking to Kathy. . a friend. . (friend? What's that? I 
don't know. I just made it up.) and I told her, I don't remember the 
circumstances, that I was brought up to be kept. Which actually fits in with 
my whole being an artist deal. You see. . I make art. . they make someone 
else buy it. I like it. As long as my keeper never tells me this and whoever 
he makes buy it pretends to love it I'll be happy. (Now the real question is 
how stupid am I? Not stupid enough to fall for that little scenario, but I 
can still dream) 

It doesn't feel like Christmas at all. It's very strange. Besides the 
weather being beautiful and a white Christmas a joke. . .Our little circle 
has decreased by two and the fact that my gramps has moved in means that no 
one is coming to visit which leaves a strange feel to the air. Speaking of 
gramps here is. Give him a little kiss. He's pretty cute. And off he putters 
again. So there isn't the whole. . .make sure the house is spotless! Make 
the beds! blah blah blah. . None of that. We have a tree, which looks 
beautiful, but it's small. My mom said, "Well it's a six foot tree." I don't 
care what she says. It's tiny. It could be at least three feet taller. Then 
I'd feel more at home.We have large outside lights going around our little 
portico or whatever my parents call it. It looks nice. Still strange. The 
other night I went out to look at the full moon. It was absolutely 
beautiful. The problem is that I'm an honorary cheeseball. I was in my room 
and realized that I had to go see it. . so I run out. . bare feet and all. 
Freak that I am. It's freezing. I couldn't decide whether brick or grass is 
warmer. I opted for brick, but now that I'm thinking about it I'm probably 
wrong. 
So Scott. . light of my life. . *gag* . . he should be shot. Yes, I'm back 
to him. This morning I wake up to Blink 182, "All the Small Things." A song 
which I happen to like. Just not at a piercing decimal when I'm trying to 
sleep. But I'm a "nice" person. Do I go and tell him to turn it down? Nope. 
I listen to his music every morning and whenever he goes into his room. But 
nonetheless. I'm a nag. Remember that. And an idiot because I don't think 
it's fair that he's a "man" and I being over a year older am a "girl". hmmm. 
. personally I think he's a *cough*jerk*cough* a confused boy, but what do I 
know? I'm a nagging idiot. Okay. . not that I've complained the whole 
e-mail. Do you think something is bothering me? nahhhh. . . . 

Have a lovely day. 
*big hugs* 
ci vediamo 
-Mare(the nagging cheesy marshmellow)