Tangents & The Times

“Coffee House Marissa”
aka “Pretentious Hipster That Isn’t So Annoying If You Talk To Her Instead Of Just Look At How Ridiculously Hip She, well, Looks.”

SO HIP IT HURTZ.

- Looks entirely too hip for her own good although she really “didn’t mean to”, totally didn’t realize throwing on shorts, boots & a sweater over what she wore to bed was going to make her look so fucking stylish.
- Looks at a table, sees a lone cupcake, tosses that shit out (it looked beat up) and sits down only for some regulars to come out and ask, “where’s my cupcake?”
- Her dog barks at all the big dogs because he’s like “who the fuck do you think YOU are? You see those baristas? Those are MY homies. I went to their Thanksgiving BITCH.” and is generally a pretentious asshole.
- When everyone she knows says, “oh, day off?” she casually replies, “nah, job hunting” which leads everyone to be like “don’t worry you’ve got way cooler things coming your way than that office job that paid you a shit ton” and she’s like “oh for sure.”
- Gets totally CRACKED OUT on coffee cause that shit she’d been sippin’ at the office was bunk rocks compared to this high quality cocaine.
- Goes home, looks in the mirror and says, “Wow, you had to wear the Wayfarers?”
- Then takes a very posed photo of it and posts it on her blog because she learned at a very young age it’s better to make fun of yourself first. You know, then it is kinda like everyone is laughing with you instead of at you even though you know the 100% of the people that laughed at you on the inside at the coffee house are not going to see your stupid ass blog and are not going to be laughing with you but hey, at least you can laugh at yourself.

Well, it worked when I was in junior high.
Except I woulda taken that photo in a bathroom mirror and pasted it all over makeoutclub.com and then chatted up rando kids on AIM with my sweet screen name inspired by Saves The Day.

Wow.
I NEED A JOB.
& to stop trying to combine my pajamz with day clothes.

So, last night I did the only logical thing-
stay in, eat sixteen bowls of pasta,
watch half of Star Wars & puff puff pass the fuck out.

All week, I was looking forward to being able to stay inside & be entirely unproductive without feeling bad about it but the sun was like, you know what Marissa, you are not staying inside and watching TV on DVD for nine hours straight, drinking old wine, smoking resin & feeling relatively useless & generally “laid off”.
No, the sun said.
The sun said BITCH I’M COMING OUT!

Then I had no excuse not
to take Zissou to the park or do laundry or get Sangria ingredients.