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dementio
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Name: Sarah
Birthday: 7/4/1990
Gender: Female
Interests: music, friends, talking on the phone, movies, Johnny Depp, LOST, Dominic Monaghan, writing, art, sketching, Grey's Anatomy, Photoshop, icons, swimming, tennis, and I know entirely too much about Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings.
Expertise: I don't know. I'm lame. :P
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/9/2005
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| THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Hank
2. John
3. Wilma
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. sexythang146
2. upzepuphol6969
3. ilickarmpits
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. Incredibly large…………….ego.
2. My poser clothes.
3. All 976 pounds of my sexiness.
THREE THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. The fleas.
2. Both gender classifications.
3. Living in my parents’ basement…I’m 63 for God’s sake!
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE
1. 60% Zwahili
2. 30% Norseman
3. 50% Hindu
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Bears
2.
3.
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Police issue body armor
2. Skimpy leather-skin man-thong
3. Tampons
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Green Bay cheese head hat
2. English dress shoes and socks
3. Lacy underwear
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS (at the moment):
1. Hilary Duff
2. Barney & His Sing-Song Friends
3. As I Lay Dying
THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS:
1. Underwater peanut butter gargling
2. Sweat shop worker
3. Cyborg porno
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP (love is a given):
1. Diamonds
2. Humongous……free spirit
3. A stick of gum.
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE
1. I have ridden the giant horse Pegasus.
2. I have poked Cyclops’ eye.
3. I have ridden Hercules.
THREE THINGS ABOUT THE DESIRED SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Ersatz
2. Hausfrau
3. Strachgefuehl
THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
1. Any physical activity whatsoever.
2. Bungee jumping underwater.
3. Wearing Nazi clothing at a veteran’s memorial.
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Water skiing.
2. Mustache-growing
3. Pushing little kids off swings.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Kick a grandma.
2. Lead a blind goose off a cliff with jagged rocks at the bottom.
3. Eat the remnants of both 1 & 2.
THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
1. Hairstylist
2. Construction Worker
3. Gay porno
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Hell
2. Anywhere besides New Jersey
3. Kentucky….because KY, slide right in
THREE KID'S NAMES:
1. Dante McFlitherspoon Jose Chancy Baker Jr.
2. Glorgbothxyaqz Prototype 456329
3. Grandpa
THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1. I have a schlong.
2. Did I mention I can grow my fingernails extremely long?
3. What’s this creepy thing growing on my knee?
THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
1. I have a schlong.
2. Is wanting to rape Dan Quail bad?
3. Let’s hang up some doilies! | | |
| THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Sarah
2. Margaret
3. Hey, you!
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. dementio
2. Just Doom
3. hpwriter0313
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. My taste in music doesn’t completely suck.
2. People tell me that I’m easy to talk to/a good listener. *shrug*
3. My red hair
THREE THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. SHORT.
2. Gargantuan Boobs of Doooooom.
3. I’m lazy as all get out.
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE
1. French
2. Swiss
3. Norwegian
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Cockroaches
2. Being alone
3. Growing up, getting old, dying. (Peter Pan Syndrome like whoa.)
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Food
2. Music
3. Computer. Hours of it.
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Lime green shorts
2. White T-shirt
3. Pink-ish orange-ish nail polish
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS (at the moment):
1. Foo Fighters
2. Queens of the Stone Age
3. Fall Out Boy
THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS:
1. Indian food
2. Buying a CD from a STORE.
3. Getting in shape?
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP (love is a given):
1. Communication
2. Friendship
3. Passion. Duh.
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE
1. I’m excited for July.
2. I don’t know why I’m doing this survey.
3. My summer doesn’t suck.
THREE THINGS ABOUT THE DESIRED SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Eyes
2. Gotta have a nice body, man.
3. Personality
THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
1. Not be silly
2. Disconnect my Internet
3. Live without music
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Making icons
2. Listening to music
3. Hanging out with friends
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Go bowling
2. Talk to someone. ANYONE.
3. Get a tan. :P
THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
1. Writer
2. Artist
3. Architect
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. France
2. Bahamas
3. Canada
THREE KID'S NAMES:
1. Charlie
2. Annalisa
3. Emily
THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY
1. I don’t wear makeup.
2. Blood and gore = yay.
3. I’m more like my dad personality-wise than my mom.
THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A CHICK
1. I have boobs. (Sorry, had to steal one that from you, Dee . XD)
2. I like guys.
3. I’m obsessed with Johnny Depp. In others news, the new Foo Fighters CD, In Your Honor, completely owns. Go buy it! Now! | | |
| Wow. Just wow. I found this in a friend's LJ. It's really really long, but it's so worth the read. READ IT.
Ode to the Nice Girls
This rant was written because a nice girl finally snapped.
This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked,
who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon
their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must
be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't
give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who
provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've
heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they
aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either,
for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the
slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep
alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood.
This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are
comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than
they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for
those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls
time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their
lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there
from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from
"there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This
is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they
are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This
is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an
experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have
sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling,
rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have
experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends
sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or
playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose
crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from
someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still
willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left
sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone
understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and
time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to
watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the
girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too
pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a
relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.
This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but
won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a
relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words
and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the
moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have
allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that
he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to
be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because
it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's
that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their
hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have
cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every
word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when
you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across
the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near,
or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random
hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his
presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a
relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night
his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his
car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just
right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way
then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for
the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you
saw the next morning after failing to sleep.
This is for
the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you
read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never
realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which
make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've
received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you
that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly
worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you
sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only
companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.
This
is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what
he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the
stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than
nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This
is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have
learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think
that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to
accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I
don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only
attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them
and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and
think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men
complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely
interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and
beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives,
that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet,
men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested,
thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and
beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait
for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next
day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward
nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and
attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from
which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not
immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd
met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve
and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make
plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to
the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice
girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth,
guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a
nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your
intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that
argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick
fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another
human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using
during it.
So don't say you're on the lookout for nice
girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we
go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in
the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your
catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing
-- we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and
turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This
isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel
shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best
friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why?
Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who
welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say
you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy
and intent, three things we're willing to extend -- but in return,
we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you
never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the
race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and
the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with
water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice
girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping
against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you
want at the end of that silly race.
So maybe it won't last
forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their
running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're
waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that
silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat. | | |
| Ew. I just spent approximately five hours in the car going to and from Ickle Little Town, Middle Of Nowhere (otherwise known as Wayne, Nebraska) because my sister moved away to college. Which means that I totally get her room now. Heck yes!
I used to have tons of useless crap to fill this little weblog entry box up with. But now it's just laughing in my face, taunting me with how uninteresting life has become. Someone needs to call me and pull me from this void of insanity. I need other human life. I'm going crazy here. | | |
| Maybe I should find some time to update when I'm actually coherant instead of falling asleep at the keyboard. Well, technically, I'm not falling asleep, but my eyes are itchy from staring at the bright screen. I betcha I've lost a few million brain cells just in the past two weeks of summer alone, but I'm not gonna launch into a self-pity party or anything. Such is life. 
I went and saw Mr. & Mrs. Smith a few hours ago with Tessa and Tara. It was pretty good; actually a lot better than I thought it was going to be. I enjoyed seeing Brad Pitt get hurt.  I went over to Tara's afterward and had some of her mom's super-tasty stroganoff. But then I had to come home and say hello to my grandmother, which wasn't at all pleasant, because she just got out of the nursing home and she's not a very pleasant person to be around anyway. Seriously, how many grandmothers do YOU know of who forget her grandchildrens' birthdays every single year? <_<
Okay, so those are pretty much the highlights of my day. Oh joy, Sarah did something socially acceptable. Woot.
See ya. | | |
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