Elly Higginbottom

This needs to be shared:

On Iran

Recurring dream: I'm at a posh party at my lawyer friend's apartment in New York, and I am acting like a country bumpkin and making a general ass of myself, and all of my teeth start crumbling to pieces and falling out, and everyone at the party gets all in my mouth to gawk at my crumbling teeth.

It is massively horrifying.

Also, maybe I'll give my aunt and cousin a call to see if there are any jobs in Atlanta, because living at home might drive me mad. I've been here just over two weeks, and my parents are giving me shit because I don't have a job yet. 'Scuse me that the economy took a dump on the country, but I can't do a damn thing other than keep applying for other jobs. I guess that's what I'll be doing today.

Recurring dream: I'm hanging out in a weird mix of New York City and Atlanta, trying to get into bars, but I can't because I don't know when a 21 year old's ID would expire. So, I decide to take my bike out for a ride, and I end up on the interstate for some reason. So, I have to turn around and go under the entrance ramp, which always turns into a subway station or a moving sidewalk that's going the wrong way. Then, my sister Caroline rescues me with a taxi, and we go back to Central Park / Little 5 Points.

Analyses?

Oh, man, I used to get the most flattering comparisons. Sienna Miller was one in high school, and the children from the Wizard of Oz told me I looked like Heidi from The Hills. Sadly, I did not know what the hills was, and I had to look it up on Google. Lower school kids should not have a better connection to MTV than I do. Then again, I don't actually watch TV, so I guess that's fair. On my online dating profile, I used to get Tricia Helfer, who apparently plays Number 6 on a sci-fi show. She's gorg. I mean, I look like none of them, but I'll take what I can get. I don't look like anyone famous these days. I think it's because I don't make an effort with my appearance in the winter, so I just look like a Russian immigrant, according to my friends at school.

I think I see the resemblance.


I've been told as of late that I need to care more about the way I look, which makes me feel king of shitty, but it's also true. I just tend to not care when the main purpose of my clothes is to keep me warm and when I have no money. Besides, I've realized that I hate winter clothes, because if they keep you warm at all, they are ugly as sin, and if they are cute, they are freeze-ass cold. I also apparently wear too many "frumpy" clothes and not enough accessories. Well, 'scuse me for wearing jeans and dresses all the time, but I find them comfy. Besides, then when I get somewhere warm, I can just take the jeans off, and I have a dress! I don't have to justify my clothing choices to you!

But I do anyways. Ah, well. I'll go at life with my sewing machine and make some dresses.

Man, I would lose my phone right before I go to New York City and need to be in frequent contact with my parents. Tell Murphy and his law I say thanks a lot and suck my ass. I'd tell him myself, but, you know, no phone on which to call him.

BALLS!

SPOILER ALERT, SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE!

Hah, now I ruined it for all of you!

Baah, what in the world am I going to do this summer? Laura's going to Maui, and I have been requested to go there with her for 2 weeks, which would be sweet as hell, but I really need to find a place to live and work because I want to put away lots of money for when I'm in Paris. However, any place that I'd actually want to live this summer would be far too expensive to do much in the way of saving any money. I shall present some options for what i to be done this summer, and you guys shall vote. Feel free to present more ideas; I'm very open to suggestions.

1. NYC -- I am in love with New York City, and I would love love love to be there all the time. However, it might be the least practical of my options. With the job market as it is, probably even for waitresses and retail workers, finding a decently paying job there might be nigh impossible. Also, housing is nutso there. Of course, I'd want to live on the UWS or in the Village or something, meaning I could get 5 cubic feet to myself for $3,000 a month. Not so good. Then again, I do have friends there, and transportation is cheap.

2. Saratoga Springs -- Practical, but it gets dull here in the summer, especially considering almost none of my friends will be here. Housing would be expensive if it were in a nice place like on Broadway, or I could get a house in the middle of nowhere for cheap. Jobs would be easy to hunt for, too, since I'm already here. I dunno, though, I'd like to do something different than be in 'Toga all summer. And I'd want my car so that I could go to the city on weekends, which would get pricey with gas as it is.

3. Albany, GA -- Oh, god no. True, my housing would be free so I could make mad bank, but no one fun is there, it's hot as fuck, and it's motherfucking Albany, GA. No, ma'am.

4. St. George Island, FL -- Only slightly better than Albany. I'd have a free place to stay, and I would be at the beach, but it is dull and hot there, too. Money would be easy to make, but I'd end up working at a bar & grill. I am not a fan of food service.

5. Maui -- Why not just stay there all summer? It would be different, and I could work in a resort or something, but I have a feeling trying to find a furnished apartment there would be as expensive as living in NYC.

6. Some other big city that is not as impossible or as fun as NYC -- I could be adventurous and go to Chicago, Boston, San Fran, something like that. Same problems with money and employment as NYC, though, and I don't know anyone else living in any other cities. I can make friends, though.

7. Provincetown, Mass or Brooking, Or -- I dunno, I did a random search-and-zoom on google, and that's what I found. I kind of want to do the "throw darts at the map" thing, but I know I'd end up in Nebraska or something like that. Midwest is not for me, kids! I am a costal girl!

Balls! I just want to make some money and have an interesting summer!

What the hell are you doing reading my LiveJournal?? Get out there and VOTE, pronto, Mister or Missus.

My journal is going "friends only" as of right now. If you want to read my posts, leave a comment here telling me how we know each other, and I'll approve you poste haste.

-Lucie

oh, and p.s. that picture is from married to the sea. Go check that shit out.

Donc, j'ai regardée le plus bizarre film ce soir. Il l'appelle Les 8 Femmes, est c'est . . . c'est . . . ach!

Premièr, c'est un comédie musicale français, que j'ai cru n'existent pas. Bien, mes amis, ils ne doirent pas exister! La musique est comme une musicale qui est composée par un éspèce d'idiot.
Comme ça!



Et il commence très joyeux comme ça ^^, mais il tombe en disastre. Le père est assasiné par un de les femmes qui habite dans son maison, qui sont composées de sa femme, ses deux filles, sa belle-sœur, deux domestiques, sa belle-mère, est sa sœur.

Okay, il est decouvert que sa sœur, Pierrette, est au maison, mais elle n'y habite pas, et elle est suspectée. Mais puis sa mère (Mamy) et sa femme (Gaby) héreteraient beaucoup d'argent si il est mort, et elles sont suspectées.
Et puis l'enfant parfait, Suzon, les dit qu'elle va avoir un enfant, sans un mari. Et puis elle decouvre que l'homme qui est mort n'est pas son père, qu'est bon, parce-que il est le père de l'enfant de Suzon! Mais elle avant maintenant, elle a crois qu'il est son père! Et Pierette est en amour avec le domestique Chanel, et tout le monde est choqué parce-que Chanel est homosexuelle et Pierette est bisexuelle, mais Pierrette est aussi amoreuse avec son frère, et aussi elle seduce la femme de son frère, Gaby, et l'ensemble voirent elles quand elles les baissent. Et l'autre somestique, Louise, et la belle-sœur, Augustine, se couchent avec l'homme, est sa mère . . . elle est jus'que folle, parce-qu'elle a poisoné son mari parce-qu'elle ne l'aime pas. Au fin, on decouvre que l'homme n'est pas vraiment mort, but il est sa fille, Catherine, posent une joue pour faire les avoueur les mensognes, mais qu'and il se rend compte les choses qu'il passe, il se tu.
Et . . . et tout ce temps, tout le monde chante des chansons folles!

And if you plug that into a translater and think the translation is fucked up, it's not. Everyone is fucking everyone, and the oldest daughter is pregnant with the baby of the man she thought was her father wtf.

Jesus Christ, the French are nuts.

Oh, Christ, there is no way to avoid google. I remember back in the day when I had to use Ask Jeeves, and it gave you the shittiest search results. Remember, it would have all of these other questions that it thought you should answer instead. Then, Google! My mac's search engine goes directly to Google, I use GoogleMaps like nobody's business, I use the calendar, my other email address is with Gmail: I'm essentially a slave to those guys.

Also, did anyone ever see the bit from the IT Crowd when Jen warns all the bigwigs about googling google and how it will destroy the world? Love.

Things to do sophomore year:

1. Only smoke when around other people who are smoking.
2. Choreograph a burlesque routine to "Love and Truth" (delicious song) and/or "Clair de Lune" (irony, much?).
3. Miss as few classes as possible: no more than 2 a semester, aside from sickness (real sickness, not a sore throat).
4. Read more books.
5. Speak more French (going to Montreal should help).
6. Don't go apeshit with travelling just because I have a car.
7. Spend less than $100 a month on yarn/sewing materials/iTunes downloads/other miscellany.
8. Practice something of a regular sleep schedule (no 4 hour disco naps).
9. Don't be a whore (not that I was a whore last year, but we need to keep up the lack of whoriness).
10. Only get stoned/drunk on weekends (counting Thursdays, unless the 9 am Friday class turns out to be a bitch).

I think they're good things to strive for, yes? I think I might even be able to do most of them. Also, I think I have too many clothes. I mean, I wear most of them, but packing everything reminds me of just how much i wear as the seasons change. I also have the messiest room ever. It's not dirty; like I throw away food and take out trash, but the clutter is just unbelievable. I guess it'll disappear as I pack everything into giant duffle bags.

Also, beach trip with Lindsay on Monday! I do hope Fay goes away and doesn't leave to much of a mess, seeing as it's right over my beach house as I type this.

I am going to lose my mind. Talking to Lindsay and Zack and all my loves from up North reminds me how much I miss the North. I want back! Three weeks is way too long.

I also need pot. Like, badly. I cannot deal with my family without having some kind of substances. My parents mark their alcohol bottles (how anal is that?). They have noses like bloodhounds, so no cigarettes. My klonopin has stopped doing anything other than make me sleepy. There is no one here I would even consider messing around with, except maybe Seth, but I don't want to do that. I respect me more than that. And no one in albany is selling pot.
I guess I'll fulfill my naughty needs by getting my tattoo and raiding Christie's Adult Store.

AmericanWeiner (9:55:06 PM): story time
AmericanWeiner (9:55:21 PM): i was chillin at this girl's apartment friday
AmericanWeiner (9:55:47 PM): i'd had like 8 shots of JD and I was smoking two joints at once
AmericanWeiner (9:55:49 PM): and I thought
AmericanWeiner (9:55:54 PM): "fuck, lucie was right the whole time"
missusmadness (9:55:57 PM): haha
missusmadness (9:56:01 PM): told you



so, take that, whoever's been hatin' on my stoner, nympho life!

OKAY GANG!!! Everything is better! Don't worry about a t'ing, cause every little t'ing is gonna be alright.

We had a chat, and though he thinks I'm bullshitting him and trying to go back on what I said, I told him that I know what I feel and he knows what he feels, and that's all that really matters. Plus, a few rounds of Beirut, a few cones, several rounds of MarioKart, and amazing, gushing orgasms (which he has a fetish for and did not tell me about until now!) tend to make everything better, yes?

Okay, gang, I am a screamer. If you and I have sex (and when I'm drunk,even if it's bad sex) or if you give me an orgasm, I am going to make a hullabaloo. I don't do it to be sexy, and I don't force it. It's something that's hard to control (when I'm sober; if I'm intoxicated in any way, you can forget about it.) I know that it gets old fast, and your housemates will hate me for it, no matter how charming they otherwise find me.

Ech, it's something I do need to work on. Being a screamer in dorms or apartment style housing isn't very practical, and it definitely makes people think they are better lovers than they are (you know who you are, Mr. I-have-handprints-on-my-back-you're-welcome). My loud nature apparently freaks out Zack's housemate's puppy, Charlotte, which is basically the last straw. I mean, I don't really give a rat's ass about it bothering people, because they will at least say something to me about it, but when my lovemaking scares a puppy, that's a really bad sign.

It's strange, when I come by myself, I can be quiet as a loudly breathing mouse, but if someone else is doing the dirty work, I literally cannot help it. Maybe I'll work restraining myself into my BDSM fetish and just tape my mouth shut or gag myself or something. I can also employ some of the male orgasm delay tricks and do tricky math or something during sex. I mean, I come pretty easily, so it wouldn't be a bad thing altogether.

I guess the bottom line is practice, practice, practice :)

Have you ever been on the computer and then realized you were making the goofiest face ever? I just did.

Also, my family is helping my grandparents get rid of a lot of garbage, and I learned that my grandmother was a total badass back in the day. Apparently, she had a billion boyfriends and was even engaged to another man when she was dating my grandfather. In her calendar, she'd have lunch with my grandfather, dinner with her fiancé, then go to a show with my grandfather again. How hardcore is that for the 40s? Also, she apparently took "scandalous" photos with her college roommate of them in slips, trying to be seductive. I know they don't look like Vargas girls, probably, but isn't that amazing? I always thought my grandmother was this sweet little Tennessee girl, but one never knows. I mean, there's always the story of how my grandparents met, which I love. My grandmother walked into the library and asked my grandfather, who was at the reference desk, where she could find "The Bower of Bliss" (which, as you all know, is a poem by Edmund Spencer). He gave her his room number. How scandalous is that? Today I'd smack a guy for saying that! Actually, I probably wouldn't, because that is a damn witty and cheeky response.

I am glad I get to hear all these stories, though. I think they're so wonderful, and if I ever get ahold of the pictures, I'll scan them in so you can all ooh and aah over my 82 year old grandmother.

My jeans don't fit anymore! I am becoming a woman at last!

I know everyone on my friends' list hates me for that, but I have been trying to get out of 2's for like three years. Now, if my boobs would just get on the womanly body train and catch up . . .

Also, I need sex, badly. My dreams are completely dominated by these very strange sex situations, like being taken inside a cave where there's some kind of sex altar, or fucking on my lower school lunch table. I'm pretty sure Freud would have a field day with those. At least I'll be at Skidmore in 3 days? 3 days. Oh, my god. I hadn't thought it'd be that soon. Oh my god. Now I am just as excited as can be! I get to be out of here, I get to see my awesome Skid-friends, I get to see Zack (who, given, is one of my awesome Skid-friends, just a special kind of Skid-friend). I do have to go to my one class (Beginner Ceramics), but given the topic, I think I'll just be smoking a shit-ton of pot and making little dishes.

These are going to be the most awesome five weeks ever.

Oh, and in case you didn't know, I have a Youtube page. I am shamelessly advertising to the few people on my friends' list, but maybe you guys want to know why sex and chocolate are the best things for you if you have a cold?

Sex and Chocolate: Cure for the Common Cold?

Well, I guess I have to start packing, then!

It was time. And I love it.