I'm So Stupid.

Let's say you have a really cool electronic device. For me, it's my Macbook or my droid. But anyway, say you have one of these items. You ever notice how kids love that shit?

Every time you see that kid, he hugs you and says hello. He answers your questions about how school is going, or his soccer team, and he asks you about your dog or your best friend. He introduces you to his friends, "This is Libby, she's awesome." You start to think, aww, how sweet! This kid thinks I'm cool! That's so sweet! And then you get a phone call and take out your phone.

"whoa, you have a droid?"
"Oh, yeah! Haha"
"Cool!! Does it have games??!"
"Uh, yeah, it does!"
"Can I play one!"
"Aww! Of course you can!!"

You give the kid your Droid and he plays a game on your phone for hours. You even have a competition to see who can get the highest score. You are officially Cool Awesome Libby. This little kid thinks you are so cool, and that makes you feel so good about yourself.

But you're a fool.

You think that kid cares about you? That kid doesn't give a rat's ass about you.

Your conversations will become this:

"Hey Bobby! How's 4th grade?"
"Good. Can I play Paper Toss on your phone?"

Maybe his parents ask you to babysit him. He asks as soon as you walk in the door, "Did you bring your droid?"

You start to get the feeling that this kid doesn't think you're cool, he thinks your phone is cool.

"Oh, I did, but you know what? It's almost dead, and I'm expecting a call."
"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll be in my room playing Mario Kart."

It becomes very clear to you that your existence beyond your cell phone means absolutely nothing to the child, and might even be an inconvenience to him. You're just in the way of his ability to play Paper Toss.

I mean, sure, Paper Toss is an awesome game. That's why you bought it. But you thought what the kid enjoyed was your company, not just the game.

After a while you wish you never had a phone in the first place.

Now, it's not as though you need this kid to think you're cool. You have no qualms letting him play Paper Toss, or Tetris, or whatever. Because lets face it, the kid is cute and you can't help but give him what he wants. It makes you happy to share, and you don't mind the freedom from the typical enslavement of your cell phone. It just kind of sucks that something so adorable has reduced your existence to a source of electronic entertainment. It would be different if the kid was obnoxious, or ate his boogers. But why give the phone to a booger eater when you can give it to a good kid?

And now, years later, every time a kid is nice to you, you wonder if he is just nice or if he wants to see what games you have on your phone. It sucks. It's getting to the point where you want to leave your phone at home to avoid any confusion.

This metaphor is getting weird... And I'm overanalyzing something that was absolutely wonderful that really doesn't matter anymore.

I don't know if anyone's told you this before, but you sir, are yummy.

You know those melodramatic facebook statuses that you post about a guy, thinking that he doesn't care enough to read? Well, it's really embarrassing when you find out that he does read them.

At that moment, you're like, "you know what? F- you. F- men!" You don't think that he cares about you because he hasn't responded to your text message and its been 5 WHOLE MINUTES. You start to get sad and picture yourself old and alone in a pink and purple house filled with 17 cats that you affectionately refer to as your babies. You immediately, for whatever reason, decide that the internet needs to hear all about this grim destiny of yours. You type out exactly what you're feeling at that moment, "All I need in this life is a spoon and a tub of cookie dough." (real status of mine, btw.) I suppose we sincerely feel in the moment that the internet is our only true source of comfort. You pause for maybe a second to consider the chances of him seeing the status. You think it's impossible. He's not going to be looking at my page cause clearly, he's too busy banging 5 other chicks at once to care about my ass. And even if he did, you figure it's way to vague for him to pick up on it.

Nope. You're wrong. You're so wrong.

I'm going to tell myself I'm not alone in this ridiculous freak out. I remember back 65 million years ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I actually had a boyfriend I did stuff like that all the time. It was a huge problem. Especially then, because it's like, who else could I possibly be talking about? "Libby Genz: feels so alone." Text from John 5 minutes later: "I told you I was having dinner with my grandma, calm down." Oops? I always tried to play it off.

"I.. I wasn't talking about you."
"Libby."
"I wasn't!"
"Okay, who were you talking about?'
"You don't know him. It's no one."
"What?"
"It's...They're just song lyrics."
"Song lyrics."
"Yeah."
"What song?"
"I don't know, I don't know the name of it."
"Where did you hear it?"
"... the radio..."
"Is there really a song?"
"Yes! Quit overanalyzing things! I hate when you do that."

Since then I've for the most part learned my lesson. A) Don't freak out about a guy not texting you back. It's not a big deal. B) Don't post ridiculous things about boys that you think are just vague enough that you could post them without him knowing but really, he'll know right away who you're talking about. (that was the worst sentence ever in the history of grammatical tragedies. But I'm keeping it.)

Every once in a while something slips though. I guess it's a maturity thing? Or maybe it's because I've witnessed so many messed up relationships by now that I don't really feel compelled to worry about dying with no one but my 17 cats to miss me. The way I see it now (and it comes and goes with my happiness level): I'm young and single and I have options. The freedom is nice.

If only I could've remembered this before I made the embarrassing cat-lady status...

I refuse to let this be my future. I REFUSE.

In other news. I'm done living on campus and being treated like an 11 year old away at summer camp. We're looking for an actual apartment. One where we can use a toaster and candles, and my plastic water gun won't get confiscated.

I'm a good girl, I am!

I haven't posted in a while. Mainly because my life has been rather uneventful for the past couple weeks. Well - actually it's been pretty eventful. A lot has happened, but it's all pretty much too personal for me to blog about. So I'll just ramble, and y'all will have to deal. Or, you know, not read it.

I'm currently in the midst of watching My Fair Lady, a movie I've had memorized for as long as I can remember. I'm beginning to see eerie connections between myself and Eliza Doolittle.

Of course, in the world of Audrey Hepburn characters, I would be Eliza Doolittle. I just would.


The similarities are as follows:

1) I make dreadful noises when I'm upset about something. 
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, Eliza makes this noise whenever she is upset or distraught. It's impossible to reproduce in print.

You can hear it in this video.


I don't make that exact noise. And I don't make just one. I have a whole collection of sounds that leave my mouth. On the way back to Nashville today (I went home for the weekend and got back today), this car kept riding my ass, and then whenever I would get over, it wouldn't pass me. It would slow down, shining its blinders right into my side view mirror. Consequently, I would get stuck between the car in front of me and that stupid ass of a car. I would have to brake, thus disrupting the cruise control. This happened 4 or 5 times. I have terrible road rage, so obscenities were shouted. But by the fifth time, there were no words. Just a scary guttural screech. Very unpleasant. Probably did permanent damage to my throat with that one.

2) I'm not graceful. At all. No where close.
I can try, but I will fail. Now, granted, Eliza becomes graceful as Professor Higgins teaches her to be a "lady." I have not been so fortunate as to meet such a person who is willing to give me lady-lessons. In sixth grade, I was invited to a cotillions class. I asked my mom what that meant, and she told me if I would go I would learn proper manners, how to ballroom dance, blah blah. I was insulted. "What's wrong with my manners?? I don't need cotillions!!"

3) I have dignity and will hold true to my beliefs. However, I can be swayed by chocolate. 
Eliza comes to Higgins' house, willing to pay for speech lessons. He insults her, because, well, he's Henry Higgins and that's how he is, and she decides against it. Higgins is able to keep her from leaving by offering her a chocolate. She has one, and he tells her that if she stays she can have all the chocolate she wants. I can't think of many things I would say no to if chocolate were my compensation. He also threatens to take away her chocolate-eating privileges to get her to say her vowels correctly. This is also an effective method to get me to do things I don't want to do.

4) I cannot for the life of me differentiate appropriate and inappropriate topics of conversation.
It's such a problem.


This video also applies to another tendency of mine, 5) If given the opportunity, I can and will make a fool of myself. I say the stupidest shit sometimes. And then rather than admitting it was stupid, I try to convince everyone that it wasn't stupid at all, in fact, perfectly correct. I was simply speaking on an intellectual level that the average person can't comprehend. "If I did it right then what was you sniggering at? Have I said anything I ought'nt?"

6) When I am smitten, I act JUST LIKE THIS.


Earlier in the scene, before she starts singing, Higgins is talking to Colonel Pickering, and looks over at Eliza, who is looking at him with large eyes and a goofy smile. A look that makes you doubt she would notice were you to crumble up a piece of paper and throw it at her face. I wish I could find a picture, because it so accurately shows how I look. Although the video does a pretty good job. Sleep doesn't happen. I become ignorant to any and all interactions with other people, and all things around me become blurry. Very pathetic indeed.

7) I fall for ass holes. 
Higgins is a straight up ass. It's actually really funny. He's rude to her. He's rude to everyone. He's a smooth talker. He's arrogant. He's ridiculous. She loves him. I feel her pain. I really do. There's something about cocky men that intrigues me. In the movie, the cocky guy actually grows to care about her. Hasn't worked out that way in my life. The cocky guy remains cocky and I remain, well, a commoner.

8) When I get mad, I get melodramatic. 
Probably my favorite scene in the whole movie is when Eliza gets pissed off and throws Higgins' slippers at him. It's so funny. Well, only when you think about it through Higgins' point of view. The viewer knows she is feeling worthless because Higgins and Pickering are given all the credit for her succuess, the man she loves doesn't care about her at all, etc. Higgins is caught up in his victory, and then this bitch starts screaming and throws slippers at him.

Higgins: (asking himself) What the devil have I done with my slippers?
Eliza: (suddenly begins screaming, seemingly out of nowhere) HEEERE ARE YOUR SLIPPERS!!!!!!! (She chucks them at him one at a time) THERE! AND THERE! TAKE YOUR SLIPPERS AND MAY YOU NEVER HAVE A DAYS LUCK WITH THEM!!!!!!
Higgins: What on earth? What's the matter? Is anything wrong?
Eliza: No, nothing wrong with you. I won your bet for you, haven't I? That's enough for you. I don't matter, I suppose.
Higgins: You won my bet! You presumptuous insect! I won it. What did you throw those slippers at me for?
Eliza: Because I wanted to smash your face. I could kill you, you selfish brute. Why didn't you leave me where you picked me out of in the gutter? You thank God it's all over, now you can throw me back again there, do you?
Higgins: Oh, so the creature is nervous after all-
Eliza: (screams and starts swinging at him)


So funny. I don't get mad often, so I guess when I do, somewhere in my tiny mind that means I have an excuse to act crazy. 




Now I'm tired. And I've paused the movie enough to stretch it well past its 3 hour run time. And I have to get up at 7. Damn.

Good night.

A Very Interesting Weekend Ruined by Some Dead French Guys.

This weekend started off good, and then it got better, and then it got better again, and now it's dumb cause it's over.

Friday night was ladies night. The roomies and I grabbed some dinner and saw Easy A, a movie about a high school girl who lies about losing her virginity. Wow. That brief of a synopsis makes it sound like a porno.

Not realistic at all. He would never go for her.
And 17 year old boys don't have that much chest hair. 

Anyway... In this movie, which was rated PG-13 and had no nudity, the "weird girl who no one notices," played by Emma Stone (who is of course, drop dead gorgeous) has boys pay her with gift cards to pretend like she had sex with them. She doesn't actually have sex with anyone in the movie. No one has sex with anyone in the movie. Oh actually, that's not true. Oh well. She ends up prancing around the school in lingerie and everyone hates her and then she gets the guy of her dreams, played by Penn Badgley.

Weird-girl my ass...

So pretty much it's one of the most inaccurate portrayals of high school to ever hit the big screen. But it's still hilarious. I'd see it again.

Seeing that movie paired with other events which occurred this weekend has made me a little nostalgic.

I was a legitimate weird girl in high school. I was as weird as they come. None of this hot red hair, beautiful complexion, effortlessly gorgeous nonsense. Braces. Bangs that I thought were edgy but really made me look pre-pubescent. Acne. Freshman year I wore an army surplus jacket and a Green Day t-shirt almost every single day. It was kinda nice because I didn't really care about what people thought of me. However, one too many criticisms from my then best friend led me to second guess myself.

Living with the weird girl is much, much less painful than suppressing the weird girl. Because, let's face it, she's bound to come out. You can put a horse in American Eagle jeans, it's still a horse. (I don't know why you'd ever put American Eagle jeans on a horse, or why a horse was even my animal of choice. I digress.)

I really wish I could go back and tell my 16 year old self to chill out.

I went through my old facebook photos to find the most embarrassing high school-y high school picture I could find. I'm having trouble finding one where I'm not holding up a peace sign whilst puffing my lips out (why did we do that? Did we realize how stupid we looked?).

oh lord. Okay. Just one trout-pout picture. And Anna, If I'm going down I'm taking you with me.

the first boyfriend

Okay, not really embarrassing, but still the best friends
anyone could ever ask for.

So glad it's over.

Ammiright?

I Can't Afford to See.

I was supposed to have an eye exam today, but I had to cancel it. Wanna know why? Cause I only had $10.47 in my bank account. I took $10 out of my savings, so now I have $10.99 in my savings and $20.47 in my bank account. That's hardly enough for food let alone an eye exam. Hell, that's not even enough to get gas to drive out to get my eye exam, which is another problem entirely because I'm on E.

When I called to cancel I told the receptionist I couldn't make it in because I have no money. She became uncomfortable and asked if I wanted to join a payment plan that would make the payments smaller by spreading them out over 12 months. No. I don't need a payment plan. I'm in college. I have shit to do.

Being an adult means giving up luxuries like 3 meals a day and the ability to see clearly. And that's even from me getting money from both of my parents. Nobody told me that, so I feel like I should let everyone know that when you're in college and not on a meal plan, it sucks. You can't eat because you have to buy medication or toothpaste. Toothpaste is like $5. That's crap. Toothpaste should not be that much damn money. I will use a bar of soap, thank you very much. On second thought, no. I wont.

I want corn bread. Or a hot meal that's not ramen or Velveeta instant mac n cheese. Why is it that when you can't afford to eat anything, all foods sound so incredibly tasty? How is that fair? It's not! I WANT SOME DAMN CORN BREAD.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanttttttt

I Need a Mouth Filter.

I have a problem y'all. 

I have a bruise that started about the size of a dime and has grown to about a silver dollar. (holla) (If anyone besides Nina gets that reference, you win.) But for real. This bruise is purpley blackish green, I think. And I say I think because this bruise is on my arse. My right arse cheek, to be specific. 

Now I get bruises all the time. I accumulate them without knowing where they come from. This wouldn't be a big deal. Except this bruise is right on the sit bone. So it hurts when I sit down, it hurts when I'm walking. It sucks. 

I noticed the bruise Saturday morning after running into something (naturally). I showed my roommates, and tried to think back over all the places I could have possibly acquired that substantial of a bruise. 

My best bet is that it happened at the party we attended the night before. It was at the same man-cave-house as the get together/show was last weekend, but this time there were like 30 billion people there. I don't really remember much other than falling off the toilet (again. I fell off the toilet last time I was there too). It will remain a mystery I guess. 

See, I think stuff like that is interesting. No one else does. And I know, deep down, that no one wants to see the gnarly bruise on my ass, but I show them anyway. Well, not everyone. Actually it was just my roommates and Brittany's sister Andrea. I didn't really give her much of a choice, I had to show Brittany how bad it had gotten and before poor Andrea had a chance to comprehend what she was getting herself into, my cheek, avec gnarly bruise, was exposed. 

Luckily, I only shared that story with one friend today. That's what happens when there are lulls in conversations with Libby. The silence, however brief, makes me panic and then I make things awkward by sharing weird information that no one wants to know. 

Me: How was your weekend?

Unprepared Friend: Awesome (or whatever he said)

Me: Cool

Friend: yep

Me: .....

Friend: .....

Me: I have a big ass bruise on my butt cheek and I have no idea how it got there.

Friend: ........ 

Bam. Ear raped. Poor guy never saw it comin'. Bet you're wishing you would've asked how my weekend was, huh? 

You know, it's a wonder that I even have friends in the first place. Most of them know I'm a weirdo and have grown to accept it. Not sure if the previous friend has reached that level of acceptance yet. Me and the roommates spent last Thursday evening at his show making up interpretive dances to his band's songs. So. Freakin. Cool. 

When in doubt, I say whatever is on my mind. I don't know why I do that. But I do. I should probably learn to control it, but life wouldn't be as fun then. 

On a different note, Bepo is all up in my Kool-Aid. I pretty much deserve it, because I didn't get a parking permit for my car. I kept forgetting/was too lazy to memorize my license plate number. But I finally did it today, after I got a ticket and then a notification saying that if I don't fix it, the rate will go up. I can get out of it by taking this 8 page "test." Such crap. But I don't have $50. F.

I have work tomorrow (bleh). I want to call one of the guys I called Thursday night, or someone else who will be nice and interesting and give me $10. Good conversation, and a new facebook friend! Can't get much better.

After reading Anna's blog (my friend in Morocco) nothing about my life sounds interesting. I don't have cool darija words at the bottom of my entries. I don't live in a medina. I don't have a host family who can't speak English. My life sucks. Go read her blog and soak up the culture. All I have to offer is a gnarly butt bruise.

Well, I guess I could give it a shot.

Word of the day:
Rednecki
Corn Bread (Kohn-brayid) - A type of delicious bread that I really want right now. 

Rejection

This post isn't funny. It's not well written, and it's actually really stupid. Mainly just because whenever I experience any emotion other than happy I think it's stupid and no one should pay attention.

Also, I may or may not be a little drunk again.

If you want happy, go down to the bottom of the post.

You ever freaked out about something dumb? And then wondered if anyone else freaks out about that thing as much as you do? And then felt like a total idiot when you realized that you're the only one freaking out about it? And all your friends are like, "Libby, you're thinking about it too much, its not that big of a deal." And then you feel even more stupid because you can't seem to convince yourself that it's not a big deal and you drive to Walgreens at midnight to get some chocolate because chocolate has never rejected you.

Myyyyyyyyyyy life.

In 5th grade, I had a crush on a guy named Tim. "Tim M" for this situation. My friend Kali told me that since I was moving at the end of the year, I should tell him how I feel. So I wrote him a note. I still remember what it said and what color gel pen I used (It was metallic and multi colored. Coolest pen ever.)

Dear Tim,
I really really like you. Do you like me?
Love (actually I drew a heart),
Libby Genz


I folded up the note and during a break from Poms rehearsal (yeah. I did poms. Good times), I slipped it into his desk. We weren't in the same class. He ended up telling the entire 5th grade that he hated my guts and that I was a loser. It wasn't really a surprise, since I was in fact a loser. He was the most popular guy in the 5th grade. I was probably the most losery girl in the whole entire school. Why I ever thought I had a chance with him, I really don't know. Also, he was 11, so girls weren't really interesting to him. I wish I could go back in time and tell my 11 year old self not to do it. "You are a nerd. It sucks now, and it will suck for a long time, but there will be a guys who like that in high school and college, so hold out."

But, alas, I did not learn from this. Then came 6th grade. New school district. New boys. I'm not going to say his name because literally EVERYONE IN THE WHOLE WOLRD knows who I'm talking about. Also, he's my neighbor, so while he is mostly unaware of my existence, we still have awkward neighborly run-ins (in which I look over and kind of wave and he pretends not to see me.)  Anyway. We met. He actually talked to me. I fell in love with him. Well, I mean, as in love as you can be at age 12. I stared at him a lot, and acted like I hated him. I wouldn't dare let him know about my feelings because of what happened with Tim M. Unfortunately however, he found out because it turns out I'm not very good at hiding when I have a crush. Pretty much, he saw that as an opportunity to get me to do stuff for him. So it became a game to him to see how much he could make me do. And then one day he yelled at me in the middle of FACS and called me a freakshow. Also not a surprise. Cause I was still a loser. And he was again, very very popular. Also, my "friends" at the time called his house pretending to be me and apparently told him I like him, or something. That eventually turned into him getting other people to make fun of me all the time. I think that was a little unwarranted. I mean, yes, I was a dork so making fun of me is a natural occurrence, something I expected. But making fun of me for being rejected? Come on! Talk about kicking me while I'm down. Needless to say, it was a pretty shitty year in general.

So, basically, I have this huge fear of rejection. Not just from boys, but from everything. At work, when I fail to get any pledges I feel like all the Alumni hate me, and that my boss hates me, and that my parents will find out how bad I am at getting money from people and be ashamed of creating me. All of the alumni might as well be saying, "I can't give any money to you because you're a loser and I hate your guts. Also, your neighbor hates you still because you're a dork, and you'll never succeed at anything ever, so you should get used to working in retail because that's all you'll ever amount to." I never invite people over to my house to hang out or something because I feel like if they say the can't it means that they don't like me or think I'm weird. I don't ever apply myself to anything because the idea of putting forth everything I can and getting shut down is the scariest thing ever.

I know there are worse things than a guy not liking me. I know that. I'm still scared.

Life would be so much easier if every guy liked me. I could just turn people down all the time. Actually though, I hate being on the other side way more. Rejecting someone is way more difficult than being rejected.

You know what really needs to happen? I need to stop drinking and blogging. That's the most important thing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay. Here's a better story. I actually did get 2 pledges tonight!! Also, I got a free nalgene bottle for being the second person to get a pledge. Work is always awesome when you get to talk to cool people. Or just people that aren't mean or old or putting their toddlers to bed. I also really hate talking to people who haven't had any use of their degree. "What am I doing with my Music Business degree? Well, let me tell you. I run the graveyard shift at IHOP. But I have high hopes for my band." That is so so so depressing. Or when someone says they didn't use it and they had to go back to school. Or when they tell me they're unemployed. That's probably the worst. What do you say to that? Sorry? Keep your head up, you'll find a job? You can't say that because what if they're 65 and they just got laid off? How are they going to find a job again? At my job, we take that opportunity to say something positive and ask them for money. It's just the Belmont way.