Friday, July 14, 2006

ThePeach Has A Blast From The Past

First of all, bitches, the reason I haven’t been updating my blog (and thanks so much for all of the harassment) is that I have 2 essays due this week and then 2 exams next week. I’ve been a busy little bunny. In fact, I’m stressed out and busy as all hell. My plan tonight was to read an entire Shakespeare play and then write a brilliant essay, but then…

TigerCat: How’s the reading coming?
ThePeach: …slow…people keep distracting me. Plus you know our estranged aunt? The rich-bitch one who lives in Arizona with the Arabic/Artist/possibly abusive husband? Well she showed up at my house and took me out for dinner today.
TigerCat: What…the fuck?
ThePeach: Ya…I can’t explain that one. Anyway, I just got back and I really need to read. No more distractions. Seriously.
TigerCat: Ok…

TigerCat: So, you haven’t updated your blog in a while.
ThePeach: Holy Mother Fucker! You’re the 3rd person to tell me that in the last hour! I have to read!!
TigerCat: Ok, sorry.

ThePeach: I’m updating. You a bitch.
TigerCat: Huzzah!
ThePeach: But seriously, now you have to let me work.
TigerCat: Ok, sorry.


Oh Tom Hanks, how I love thee. TigerCat: you a bitch.

So anyway, here is the blog entry I promised my manipulative scab of a sister:

If any of you are like me (and if there are a lot of you, we should seriously consider forming an army of cynical bitches), you have people on your msn list that you rarely if ever actually talk to. People that you used to be friends with, say, in high school, but now it’s been 5 years and the only reason you keep them on your list is to check out their msn names to see if their lives are more successful than yours and then either a) laugh at their failures, b) feel momentarily sad at how unsuccessful you are but then just pour yourself another drink?

Ya, I have a few of those people on my list. One of them happens to be my very first ex. We dated for a year in high-school (which is practically biblical in high school relationship years), I fancied myself in lurve, we held hands in the hallways and felt each other up in his car – it was all very typical.

Then he dumped me, I became a psycho-bitch and we hadn’t really talked too much since. Last I heard he was living on the other side of the country making the big dollahs as a corporate pimp. I shall refer to him from here on in as “SaraLee”, which some of you may recognize as a brand of frozen baked goods. The name has much more meaning to me and to anyone who I have forced to watch the tape of my grade 13 musical, in which my ex danced and sang (jazz hands!) to a song about said frozen baked goods. It was a tear-jerker.

Anyway, 2 nights ago I was working diligently on an essay like a good girl when SaraLee messaged me for the first time in god knows how long to comment about my blog, which ThePilot had showed him.

SaraLee: Nice blog!
ThePeach: Who the fuck are you? *scans mind* Oh, I mean…thanks? I didn’t know you were a reader.
SaraLee: Look at you…blogging…you’ve come so far.
ThePeach: *?* heh…
SaraLee: All I remember is that old clunky computer of yours (ie. and the 3 days/all of my human strength and the will of god that it took for me to teach you how to use e-mail), and now you’re blogging!
ThePeach: Oh, I’m an internet pro-star now! *typed furiously with 2 fingers on a computer that is seconds away from blowing up*
SaraLee: I can see that.

*20 minutes of catching up on our lives*

ThePeach: and then I got drunk and told him to go fuck a leper!
SaraLee…right…so tell me more about FauxHawk. Does he treat you well?
ThePeach: Yep, he’s great.
SaraLee: I hope he’s better than some of the other assholes you’ve dated.
ThePeach’s angst-y 18-year old self: BETTER THAN YOU, BITCH!!
ThePeach: Haha, he is.
(In case I sound like a raging lunatic, I should clarify right now that I really have absolutely zero hard feelings towards SaraLee. He’s a great dude and I enjoy talking to him. My 18-year old self, however, wants him to feel enormous amounts of pain. Ok, I guess I still sound like a raging lunatic but I’m just going to roll with it).
SaraLee: So how’s your family? Is your mom still dating CoorsLight?
SaraLee: What the hell?
ThePeach: Whoa, did I say that out loud? No, CoorsLight and my mom are no longer dating and I have absolutely zero emotional scars from the whole experience.
SaraLee: Right…so, how’s your sister? I hope she’s not as crazy as she used to be. Remember how the first time I ever met her at your house, she and her friends had gotten high and drunk and one of them puked up blood and they were all freaking out because they were so high?
ThePeach: Ya…12 is a tough age.
SaraLee: So, did she ever calm down?
ThePeach: I thought you said you read my blog.
SaraLee: The one thing I remember about your crazy family is how your fridge only ever contained sauce. No real food, just assorted sauces.
ThePeach: *eating a hearty snack of icing and peanut butter* Ya, good thing I moved out.

Anyway, SaraLee and I had a nice long conversation and it was great to talk to him again, even if it meant re-living my tumultuous teen years. But then, the next night…

ThePilot: So, I was talking to SaraLee about your blog.
ThePeach: Ya, I talked to him the other night.
ThePilot: He cannot believe how bitter you’ve become!!
ThePilot: He just kept saying “I can’t believe ThePeach actually wrote this”.
ThePeach:…have I really become so bitter and jaded?
ThePilot: Oh shit, sorry – you were being serious. Well Peach, you’re not exactly the same woman he dated in highschool.
ThePeach: Because I have massive knockers now?
ThePilot: That, and you’re…um…how to put it delicately…a bitter, cynical, sarcastic, hilariously self-deprecating wench. *editors note: I may have exaggerated this line*
ThePeach: I guess I’m not exactly Suzy –fucking-Sunshine.
ThePilot: It could be worse. Imagine if you had dated me instead of SaraLee.
ThePeach: We’d probably both be dead.
ThePilot: Probably.

So, that was my blast from the past. Here is what I learned from that little adventure:

1. I used to be a nice person with an optimistic outlook on life.

2. Somewhere along the way, that part of me died and was set on fire and then pissed on and then someone threw dog shit on it.

3. Probably as a result of the string of hobos I dated for the last 5 years, most of whom had sexual dysfunctions, substance abuse problems, mommy-issues, and anger problems. All of whom I was immediately attracted to, probably because God hates me.

4. SaraLee was not a hobo, which is why he is the only one of my exes that I still talk to.

5. 18-year old angst-y Peach: HE WASN’T A HOBO, HE WAS A HOMO!!

6. Kidding. God, I’m a bitch.

7. TigerCat got an early start on her foray into drugs, and I applaud her.

8. CoorsLight might actually be a demon.

9. I don’t need therapy. I need an old priest and a young priest.

10. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree re: sauce in the fridge.

And TigerCat – I could have finished an entire Shakespeare play in the time it took me to write this. You is such a whore. I command you to cook me dinners when you come to visit me this week if you’re not too busy taking it up the pooper.

Me Fail English? That unpossible!



Tigercat said...

Up the pooper eh? Do you know something I don't?
Don't worry I will cook you lots of curry.
I remember that night I met Saralee for the first time. I was so high I decided that it would be a good idea to read a book while my friend was puking up blood. You know, to be inconspicuous. I was a good friend. The only problem was I was holding the book upside down and my mom caught on. Oh I was swell at 13.


Cleavage said...

MOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooore POSTS! Don't you think it will loosen your writing muscles to describe the 77 reunion weekend, tell your readers about the time FauxHawk drugged you and then ravished your prone body, or just show us more adorable pictures of the devil-cat?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

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