Parental units are a pain in my a-double-s.

My latest encounter with the crying baby side of me has come to the conclusion that as much as we love them, our parents have pretty much completely screwed us over by the time we turn seventeen. Legit. I mean, I know parents are all importante to our development and they help us not be wild crazy jungle people or whatever, and they are totally there to like pay for your cell phone and shit like that. I mean, yeah, we need them. We can't support ourselves until we graduate (I mean, we could, but its not preferable). But sometimes, I wish they'd just like shut up already. I'm so tired of my parents treating me like a five year old who dribbles ice cream on her sweater and then cries about it for two days afterwards unless a new Polly Pocket is produced to distract my tiny little attention span. Uh, yeah, mom, I know not to run off with the creepy creeper down the street when he offers me some odd smelling "candy." I'm not an idiot. I knew that people were out to get me in first grade when my so-called BFF called me out for liking the cute boy in our class in front of everyone and having him announce to my face that  Ew, Carly is gross, I do not like her. (Have I ever mentioned how much I hate people?)

It's weird to think that my parents do anything else besides be my mom and dad. Like, when they have shitty relationship issues, I'm like woah, dudes, whatthefuck, you guys are my parents, all you have to do in life is buy me Chipotle and that's it, there's no need for the mushy gushy touchy feely you-hurt-my-feelings shit. And I cannot stand it when my parents get so mad at each other and one of them leaves when I need their debit card because I need some China Wok chicken fried rice. Parents' problems are way too whamma-lamma-ding-dong for me to handle and I just wished they'd fucking shut up already.

Last time I checked, a relationship was between two people. So can you please stop including me in yours?

WHAT THE FUCK. I think I'm going to kill someone soon because I am so fucking fed up with everyone and everything and STUPID BITCHES who just can't seem to let the fact that yeah, we fucking dated, A FUCKING YEAR AGO. I wish I could sit here and explain to you how far OVER IT I am, but you would just sit there and tell me that I'm lying and that I'm too scared to tell the truth.

Well, here you go. I know you'll read this sooner or later because you fucking stalk my every fucking move. So here it is.

Yes. I did love him, and I still care about him. He was my first fucking goddamn love, so uh hello, no shit I'm still gunna have feelings for the ding dong. Yeah, I fucking get it that he didn't "understand what the word meant" or whatever bullshit he tried to pull like seventeen years ago when we broke up, but seriously? Who the fuck cares. What we had was forrealz and I digged it and it took me a while to pick myself back up again. So, shoot me. I had a broken heart. Get the fuck over it, I'm HUMAN. And when I say that I still care about him, I mean that I just want the best for him. That's IT.

But seriously? I am okay now. I don't think about him anymore. I don't miss him anymore. And I sure as hell don't wish I was still with him anymore. And yeah, from the shit I used to hear about you two, it made it seem like you treated him like shit. I don't know because I'm not in your relationship, but when about seventy-two people come up to you telling you stories about how you treat him like dirt, I'm gunna start believing it. And yeah, I was jealous. I'll admit it. Because back then, I still wanted to be with him. But how can I put this gently?

I DON'T WANT TO BE WITH HIM ANYMORE. IF I DID, I WOULD TRY TO TALK TO HIM, OR SEE HIM, OR WHATEVER WITH HIM. FUCK THAT, I HAVEN'T SAID TWO WORDS TO HIM SINCE, UHHH, LIKE FOUR MONTHS AGO. SO FUCK OFF!

Kthanksbye.

Dear God, why didn't you make them all like this?

I'm continuing my Ifuckinghateboys rant with what I think every man should be like. Oh, Zac Eron. You are sexy as hell. And you were even adorable in your Summerland-big-gap-in-your-teeth days. But ohhhh boy, have you been working out. Those arms are delicious. Slash, your entire body is delicious. Why can't every guy be like this one? Yeah, he's probably got an ego the size of Niagra Falls, but seriously, he's funny, talented, extremely good looking, and is just like a fucking orgasm to look at. I can't wait to see 17 Again. I heard it was hilarious, and we all know I need some hot-boys-being-funny-time. Now only if we could get rid of your gross trashy girlfriend.

I wish she wasn't so fucking cute, then I could hate her more. She's got this style that I love, and she has like the perfect fucking body. If only she like ... had talent. And didn't have that voice! She's like fucking 20 and she has this voice that sounds like a five year old! Girl, you needa fix that. You prob coulda done without those gross Drake Bell naked pictures. And I liked your music before the Sneakernight diaster. Uh, basically what we're gunna do is dance, basically what we're gunna do is dance, basically what we're gunna do is dance? What the fuck? You're annoying. I liked your Come Back to Me and Say Ok days. Man, that video was cute. With Zac in it. I wish they weren't so perfect together.

Trashy on her part, sexy on his. (Yeah, I'm biased.)

xoxo,
carly rae

Boys are stupid.

I thought that maybe when you got older, that boys started to understand a little something called common sense. But, no, they don't. I've started to believe that they are all idiots, and that we should just use them for sex and then leave. But noooo, we have to have the emotional attachment and ohh feelings and yayy commitment. No. Fuck that. The only different between boys and girls are penises and vaginas. And boobies. Therefore, that should be the only reason why we have boys around. To use their parts for sex and then like stick them underground and only let them back up for reproduction/when we get horny. 

The end.

Stop fucking staring at me.

I feel like a goldfish in a bowl with everyone staring at me. Really, people? Do you really have to stop in the middle of the fucking parking lot of the Teet and stare at me as I drive by, minding my own fucking business in my piece of shit car? Take a fucking picture already. Yeah, bitches, I kissed him. Sorry you're so jealous. Too bad that shit went down like six fucking months ago and I'm suh-ooohhh over it.

How come when spring comes around, everyone goes insane? WHY?? When I walk around the hallways of school I feel like I'm walking through a fucking porn movie with all the swapping of saliva I witness. It's so trashy. Like, seriously? Can't you do that when your parents aren't home later on after school? I really don't want to see you get an STD right here in the Foreign Language department. Thanks.

Prom should be fucking fun. SIKE. Everything was so much easier last year, I had a set date and group and whatever. Now its like I have to sit around and wait for some douchebag manwhore to ask me last minute, then turn him down at the end of the night when he introduces me to the Motel 8 down the road, and then I have to deal with all these bitches the next week at school asking me what happened when we dissappeared, because they heard he left me at the motel after turning me down because you know Mr Douchealicious can't ruin his reputation with some girl turning him down, and it's not like we all didn't know you just wanted to get laid anyways, Carly. What the fuck? There are so many expectations and dress shopping and stressing out about the new mountain of a pimple on your chin and your shoes making you taller than your date and blah blah blah. Like I really just want to have a good time, and hopefully that includes alcohol (sorry mom).

And they better play Lady Gaga. I'm gunna be really puh-issed off if the only play the same Mexican rap that they always play at homecoming. I don't even remember what they played last year, all I remember is getting there late and leaving early to go chill at my date's house and watch Tila Tequila's lesbian/bi/whatever dating show. I wish I had her boobs. Actually, I wish I had boobs period. My mysquito bites make it difficult to find a dress that doesn't make me look like a dumbass.

And my mom is giving me a two hundred dollar max on my dress, and I'm like woah there mom, I'm not about to head down to JC Penny and get a nasty dress made out of fucking sheer plastic shit. No thank you. I need some Jovani up in here.

Whatevs, I've been looking for prom dresses all night and my eyes hurt like a bitch now, but I totally about to play the Nancy Drew games my friend let me borrow. They're so fucking kickass.

Shit, my phone is about to die. I don't even know where my charger is. Oh well.

Peace & love, bitches.

xoxo,
carly rae

The art of holding your tongue.

Many people today don't say what they are really thinking. They hold it in to avoid conflict, insure their social acceptance, etc. I'm guilty of it as well. But not here. I promise to give you complete honesty about every subject that I am presented with. I can guarantee the use innappropriate language and the discussion of somewhat offensive topics. But it's what all of you are thinking; I'm just putting it down on paper. (Er, I guess more typing it in a blog, but you get the picture.)

So ... what will I write about? I don't even know. I'll probably just end up rambling about something that won't make any sense to anyone but myself, but I really don't give a shit, so don't complain to me about it. Get off my blog and get a fucking life off the computer. (Did I mention I was a hypocrite?)

We all are, anyways. Hypocrites, I mean. We all say one thing and do another. No, you would never do anything to hurt our friendship, but you totally hooked up with my main boy toy last night at the p-p-p-party where you had a little bit too much Smirnoff for your own good. Whatever, I don't care. He's a skeez anyways. Uh, SIKE. I totally care. You know I do. I know I do. But I say I don't, just like you said you didn't let Mr. Skeezbag into your pants last night when I asked you about it this morning. It's all bullshit and I'm so fucking sick of it. Just tell me how you really feel! BE FUCKING HONEST WITH ME! God. If you like him, TELL ME. Yeah, I'll probably hate your slutty guts for it, but at least I won't consider you a lying bitch who I have to pretend to be friends with.

And don't think you men are off the hook. You guys are hypocrites, too. You say you like me, but then you don't, but then you do, and oh-how-cute, you "really care about me," but oh wait, you didn't seem to care about me when you kissed that whorefacedslut in front of my face and then just avoided eye contact with me like a big fat cowardly bastard for the next six months in Oceanography even though I sit right fucking by you and you have to look at me to get to your Skeezbag seat and when Ms. I-don't-know-what-a-bra-is oceanography teacher pairs us together for labs.

It really pisses me off that people (including myself) cannot look each other in the eye and be completely honest. Yeah, truth hurts, but it's a hell of a lot better to hear an apology from your roommate, telling you about how she ruined your favorite white sweater by stealing it and accidentally spilling frat-boy-beer on it last Thirsty Thursday, then to find it in your closet with a big gross yellowy-brown shit stain down the front and her going, "I don't know what happened," only to find out later by one of those dirty frat boys in your English-For-Idiots class that it was his beer that was now stained into your cashmere. Asshole.

Ugh. People annoy the shit out of me. But it's super late and I gotta pack for a trip to my friend's college to get totally shit faced and not think about how much I hate people for a couple of days.

Peace & love, bitches.

xoxo,
carly rae