Flight of the Conchords
I want a New Zealand accent for my birthday.
That isn't too much to ask; it'll make me more likeable.
I'm gonna start a petition to make a second season of the show.
"Did STEVE tell you that?"
GAH. Too good.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Flight of the Conchords
I'm terrified of regrets, cuz God knows I have a lot.
Right now I'm worrying over some decisions I've made lately, and whether or not they were the right ones for me.
Last night I had decided that my decisions were absolutely wrong and I need to undo a few things, and change huge aspects of my life.
Today I'm not so sure.
I wish I was not such an emotional person.
Without emotions, this would all be so simple.
I'm done whining now.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Well, more the boy.
It's warranted. He hugs me more than she does.
An evening can start innocently enough, with a trip to the park....
But it ends up much differently.
With everyone drunk in cowboy hats.
The man-nipple pictures have been omitted for sanity's sake.
They're for my own personal use, thankyouverymuch.
$15 and a cowboy hat, and this man is positively GIDDY.
The next hangover-infused day was spent shopping for wedding dresses.
I have excellent taste in other people's wedding attire - ask my sister.
No, better yet - ask Joe, her Slave To Be.
You're welcome, Joe.
Back to St. Catharines I went.
Funny thing is....
As soon as I got into the city, I could feel everyone's drama start to eat at me again.
Welcome To St. Catharines, Home of the Rut.
Monday, January 21, 2008
It's inconsistent and random.
I get amused and saddened at the same time that a small thing can elate you, and an even smaller insignificant thing can leave you completely deflated.
As someone who obsesses with words, I find that a simple sentence can have the power to dictate my emotions, moods, and outlook on pretty much anything.
Another sentence can do the polar opposite.
I'm making it my duty to uncover which words and phrases will keep me, and others, happy.
It very well could be something as simple as expressing love, or an honest compliment from someone you respect.
But maybe not.
I plan to find out.
You'll know that I've found it once I stop posting mindless depression-inspired posts.
Stay tuned, kiddies.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
"It's awesome how you can be completely comfortable standing in the middle of a group, with everyone's attention on you. You entertain and it doesn't faze you."
I guess. I hadn't noticed until that moment.
Truth be told, while it's true that I'm often the loud-mouthed group conversationalist, a lot of my time is spent as a watcher.
I stand on the sidelines and just observe people.
It's amazing what you can learn about a person by just paying attention, even if they're complete strangers.
I watch the couple in the corner, and wonder if the girl has any clue that her boyfriend is ass-over-teakettle in love with her, while he seems to solely be a passing fancy in her mind.
I watch the group of frat boys, sharing tales of sexual exploits and bar brawls. The guy in the hat isn't comfortable with the conversation, and nervously fidgets. His eyes dart away from his 'friends' as though searching for a way out.
I watch my own friends. And sometimes that's the worst.
I see my girl grasping at a failing relationship with a guy who so obviously only wants to be her friend.
I see my other friend making a desperate play for another friend's man.
I see a good buddy look heart-achingly sad and try to mask it with bravado and fake cheer. Should I tell him that I've been there, that I KNOW?
That's the thing about being the observer.
You can't talk about it; you can only watch.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Kris: Well shit, why are you coming to me?
Pat: You're a girl and you're the closest thing to a boy of any girl I know.
Kris: Uh... thanks?
Pat: It's a good thing, it means you'll tell me stuff in ways that I'll actually understand.
Kris: Otay. Dear Abby is here for you. Give 'er.
Pat: Alright... so... what the HELL do you girls WANT?
Kris: In general? Ponies, diamonds, rich old men who are ready to croak, fun socks, boyfriends who hold hands, pretty lipsticks, and shiny hair. Are you friggin' kidding?
Pat: Lol seriously. Jenn is always mad, and I don't know what I do to make her mad. What does she want from me?
Kris: Jenn is a girl's girl. She wants girly things. Pay lots of attention to her, tell her she's pretty (but only if you mean it), and stop becoming a douchebag when you drink, cuz it makes her cry. I've seen it.
Pat: Oh shit. It's true. I'm horrible.
Kris: Yep. As one of your guy friends, let me tell you... you've got a sweet girl with a damn fine ass. If she makes you happy, you need to wanna make her happy. It's pretty simple.
Pat: Kris, I'm in love with her. How'd that happen?
Kris: Cuz she made you fall on your ass and think differently about life. It's lovely. I'm happy for ya. :)
Pat: I can't screw it up. I'm gonna make her happy.
Kris: You damn well better.
Pat: So... fun socks and shiny hair?
Kris: Don't forget the ponies. Never forget the ponies.
(Grammar and puncuation FULLY edited by Kristen Goetz. Why can't boys spell?)
She is me... but brunette, tattooed, and badass.
And so much more than I am.
She takes shit from no one, but will cause it for those who deserve it.
She has a damn fine brain, and makes sure that everyone knows it.
She is passionate, strong, opinionated.....
And insanely feisty.
She is respectful, but respected even more so.
She knows exactly what she wants, and would rather die before she gives up on obtaining it.
She is your friend, your lover, your confidante, and your enemy.
What I strive to be.
You dress up for Halloween to be someone else.
Instead of who I was supposed to be impersonating, I felt like a better me.
I dressed up as the Kristen I want to be.
Maybe a dye job
an attitude adjustment
and a confidence boost
And I'll become her.
But maybe not.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Working on a Sunday is rarely fun.
But alas, here I am striving to meet deadlines.
I suppose I should have gotten up off my ass at regular intervals, but no.
I decided to begin organizing the songs on my computer.
Holy Jesus, I wish I had never started.
They were scattered all over the place, in different directories aptly titled "New", "Newer", and "Newest", based on when they were downloaded in recent years.
Now - they are sorted by artist. Well, some of them. This is going to take days.
If you want to see how eclectic and music-obsessed you are, I suggest doing what I've done.
I now fully realize what a loser I am. I'm a music geek, it's true.
Sometimes I wonder how I have friends,
When the only friends I REALLY care about are Morrison, Joplin, Staley, Hendrix, Osbourne, Moreno, Corgan, and Plant.
And maybe a little Armstrong. Louis, of course.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Bridal Show #1 for me.
So much planning, so much craziness, and it's extremely easy to get caught up in it.
I'm happy for her. She deserves a really special day with the man she's still completely smitten with. Even after 11 years.
And since she won't force a pink dress on me, I can't complain either.
My speech will ruin the poor girl. I should start writing; I only have a year to perfect it.
It was odd to see all the BTB's (Brides To Be) who were younger than me.
Especially the ones I actually knew.
I can't imagine being married at 24 or younger. And yet so many girls I know are married with kids already.
"Congratulations on your engagement. When's the happy day?" was the phrase I heard over and over.
Um, no. Not me. Her.
It's insane to think of how I once had marriage plans. Down to our ages, wedding size, type, and the songs.
Oh, the songs.
It shows how immature I am; I see that now.
I get starry-eyed and stop listening to the logical voice in my head that says "This will never work, and you know it."
Friday, January 11, 2008
Probably the best thing that has been introduced to me by the boyfriend.
The one thing I'll give him absolute credit for. ;)
I defy anyone to watch this and not laugh.
If you can... I'm afraid we're not friends, and you need to sit in a corner and contemplate your sad existence.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
I blame last night's dream on beer, cigarettes, and awkward bar situations.
I can no longer remember the majority of it, but I was in a mansion with
and copious amounts of liquor.
All my friends were there.
And my most recent ex.
I was attacked by a bear in the yard of said mansion, and my clothes were ruined. So I found a shirt and put it on.
It belonged to the ex. When I found out, I climbed the hidden stairways to the secret rooms, and gave the shirt to his friend while the ex watched and spoke in tongues.
Oddly enough, that wasn't the weirdest part of the dream.
I remember being scared. Shit was going down. Why can't I remember the important parts?
I'd really like to know why I was attacked by a bear. THAT part I remember.
I was also babysitting small children while this drug, sex, and alcohol-soaked party was happening.
A little girl showed me the secrets.
I later had a dream
that me and the boy (who is no longer pseudo by any means) got a place together in Toronto.
I'm not surprised, since he fully put that idea into my head on purpose.
We were like the Cleavers.
And way more fun.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
This is gonna be a pretty dang nonsensical day.
Mostly cuz I like the word.
I'm sitting at the computer, watching people saunter past my house. They look happy.
Is it bad that I kinda wanna throw things at them?
I wish I was the frontlady for an uber angry chick rock band. I just think it would be fun, and I've never had the opportunity.
It's usually dudes that want me to be in their band.
Chicks don't like me. Perhaps they are afraid of my testosterone-fueled jabber.
Blogs are for narcissistic people who want others to think they are cleverly creative.
So I gotta wonder why the crap I have one.
There's nothing clever or creative about the tripe I write on here, it just passes time.
And I don't tend to be overly narcissistic. Do I?
Today I will force myself into blissful happiness, because I friggin' think I need it.
My brain has been a bit of a whore lately, and she has now succumbed to disease.
Time to slow 'er down, methinks.
"Kristen, you're fucking certifiable."
Yes. I know.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
It's kinda like pullin a plug to drain out all the extra crap in my brain.
All I know right now is that my addiction to music is both fueling my blues, and making them somehow easier to handle at the same time.
This is why I'm a freak for lyrics and powerful melodies.
I like to sit completely alone, in the dark, with a song turned up so loud that I can't even process normal thought.
When it's the right song... with words that speak to me and KNOW me, and music that just fits so damn well...
That's what moves me.
That's what makes me FEEL.
Why can a simple song connect to me better than most people do?
Monday, January 7, 2008
Then overthink again.
Too many things in my brain, and instead of answers I'm comin' up empty.
Part of me wants to see huge changes in my life. And they're absolute possibilities. I used to feel like I had so much potential, and that I'd end up being EXACTLY how I always pictured myself.
Right now I feel like I'm slowly losing myself in my tiny corner of the world, surrounded by people who mostly don't give a shit, in a position where I can't fully take advantage of the things I know I can do.
The other part of me hates change. Detests it. Is terrified of it. I like routine, and boundaries, and the familiar.
So what do I do?
Whether I like it or not, things are already changing. New feelings and ideas are driving me lately, I just don't quite know what to do with them.
Kristen is in limbo, and needs someone to place her where she belongs.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
I'm allergic to sexual feather boas.
Probably shouldn't have eaten the red one I wore to the Sammy Formal.
I also probably shouldn't have gotten near the black one that jumped from person to person.
And maaaybe bringing it to the dinner party a couple days later was a bad idea.
But... me being the smart little broad that I am... I left it in another city.
Bye bye, boa. As a fashion accessory, you were all-ruling.
But other than that... you make me sick.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Another New Year's Eve has come and gone. The excuse to get completely stupid is over. Some drank to celebrate the incoming year; I drank to forget the last one. I'd say it was a success.
The usual craziness ensued. Isn't that the point? There's no real rhyme or reason for anything on that night.
I don't claim to be respectable or polite. I'm a drunken buffoon at times, and dammit... I'm allowed.
Late night bowling while sportin' a tight little number is not recommended. But we gave it all we had. Inspiration hit when Skid Row rocked the speakers and I snagged myself a spare.
I never said I was any good at it.
The boys were lookin' dapper, and the girls were dressed to the nines. Little did we realize just how sloppy you can make evening wear. I'm sure the two and a half Big Macs didn't help me look pretty either.
Needless to say, when it was all said and done, all we ended up with were hangovers, crazy pictures, and another year gone by.
Except for me. I got him to myself for a few days.
Welcome, 2008. You started off pretty damn good.