I'm choosing to disregard the holiday season and instead blog about the worst summer of my life. I guess I could do my best to segue into something more Christmassy if the opportunity presented itself. We'll see.
I got on aim (I should probably mention that this was 2003), and asked a friend of mine whose name escapes me if I could spend the summer with her in Pennsylvania. Apparently she did not mention this to her parents because my arrival came as a surprise to her mom and step-dad.
CHRISTMAS SEGUE! CHRISTMAS SEGUE! CHRISTMAS SEGUE!
Speaking of step parents, the mom from Elf is an amazing human being. She finds out that her husband has an illegitimate son and is beyond thrilled about it. She literally could not be more supportive. I know that I have to suspend disbelief through most of Elf ,but it gets to be almost too much. Especially when you consider that he already isn't spending enough time with their son. The whole workaholic aspect of that movie doesn't really speak to who we are in the way that it used to, just saying. End of Christmas segue.
This was my daily itinerary during the worst summer of my life:
- Wake up
- Not eat breakfast
- Swim around at the pool
- Go to this bearded lady's house that she shared with her celebrity obsessed sister. They lived next to the pool so we could look out the window and still gossip about everyone there. We would watch movies all afternoon with one 7-11 Snapple break.
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| The bearded lady and her sister were both in their mid-twenties and should not have been hanging out with us. |
I want to quickly address the fact that my friend whose name escapes me didn't feel the need to feed me. The kicker is that she was actually really fat and I never saw her eating either. I'm pretty sure she was on a crazy starvation diet in a futile attempt to win the affections of this terrible white trash, um, cult leader?
- He was a charismatic but altogether terrible guy who held court every night on his stoop where he shouted about stuff and listened to Eminem at a completely unreasonable volume for a weekday. It wasn't even good 8 Mile era stuff it was terrible early Eminem. Sorry I'm not sorry.
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| These are direct quotes. |
CHRISTMAS SEGUE! CHRISTMAS SEGUE! CHRISTMAS SEGUE!
Domestic abuse is the perfect segue into our next holiday diversion: my least favorite Christmas song.
It is distracting that they were Jehovah's Witnesses singing Christmas songs, and it does make me a little sad to think about how they wished they could celebrate Christmas. I'm not making assumptions about that, Michael said so in the Martin Bashir interview, so frak you. My main issue with this song is that I can't stop thinking about how abusive Joe Jackson was and what a mess it really would have been if Daddy had only seen. End of Christmas segue.
- We would venture back to her house late at night (I still wouldn't get to eat anything) and I had to just sit there quietly reading her idiotic aim conversations over her shoulder until we went to bed.
- I slept on the floor of her room that she shared with her older sister. They apparently had Jackson-level terrible parents (although in the exact opposite way) because they let the older daughter's boyfriend sleep in that room with her 12-year-old sister. And me, don't forget about me.
I watched more movies than I ever had in my life.
I may have spent this entire blog complaining about it, but I did get super thin from not eating all summer.
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| Before/After |
Layer 1: I got that Old Navy shirt as a gift from my aunt, and it didn't fit me because it was a small when really I needed a medium (I'm lying, large), but I wore it anyway because it was so "nice".
layer 2: At age 13, I truly thought this Old Navy shirt was the most posh, expensive, highest quality article of clothing in my closet.
layer 3: It was.
#layersofcomedy
