Random Channel Surfing

So Nicole moved into her own place on Sunday. Own as in she bought it. She owns  it. It's hers. Funny how us three (Jenn, Janis and me) live vicariously through her ;) The crew:

Bossy people drive me bananas. Sometimes, though, I stop and think about the times I've ordered someone around and I realize how hypocritical my anti-bossy-people stance really is. Now, that's not to say that it's wrong per se. No. That's not entirely true. The reason why I'm so frustrated right this second has more to do with my existential crisis du jour. Fuck. J'ai besoin d'apprendre à m'expresser comme il faut. Je n'ai pas besoin d'être si stupide ou être si fatiguant. God. Will I ever stop speaking in rhyme?! Even to myself, this form of communication tires me. eclipses me. Merde.

Is it pathetic that I remember every one's birthday when they can't be bothered to remember mine? How is it that my memory is flawless, while every one else's is not? Goodness.

Suddenly overwhelmed with all of this feeling. I'm frustrated. I'm insecure. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm disappointed. I'm relieved. I'm vindicated. It's not always good to be right.

Suddenly regretting my honest nature. I must learn to bite my tongue around cute boys. FML.

I hate going onto someone's blog and seeing it covered in ads. Meet local singles! Lose weight fast! Pretty dresses for CHEAP! And I don't hate the ads because they're flashy and tacky. No. It's because I know these ads are custom-tailored for me and my preferences and are, therefore, a reminder of things I already know and don't need reminding of. They're smug ads. They're abrasive and the one I saw today was so eerily in-tune with my life and recent conversations I've had these past FIVE days that I'm starting to think an internet sprite is hovering somewhere close to me and is whispering my secrets into the ears of some internet demon and they're set on ruining my life. Yes. I am dramatic. But this odd coincidence crawls under my skin, wriggling and embedding itself in my brain, making me question everything. I mean, is this blog ad a sign ? I gave up believing in signs when I lived in Montreal and learned to distinguish between what ...