Celebrity Look-a-Likes Pt. 3

27. Rachel Weisz & Lucy Griffiths

28. David Hyde Pierce & Kelsey Grammer

29. David Conrad & Tahmoh Penikett

30. Joseph Fiennes & Nestor Carbonell

31. Leslie Bibb & Maggie Grace

Giggly Cait

I’m so happy! Oli and I are officially dating now. I’ve been in that giggly happy mood for a while. It’s not something I would’ve picked (like imagined), to be honest. But it’s amazing. I really like him. It’s going great. I just really love being with him and stuff. Which is probably a bad thing at this point in time, since I have an essay due on Thursday that I haven’t started. On a topic I’ve been to one lecture on. For a subject I’ve been to about three lectures on in total, and haven’t done the readings for. But it’s so hard to teach myself about rationality and suicide and terrorism when I just keep getting distracted by Oli. Nyee. Sorry for the return of the lame mushy stuff, by the way! I’m so not a mushy person. I hate mush. But now I’m being a little mushy. Oh no. Also, I like being called Sweetie. And also, he has the most amazing bright blue eyes. And a really cute smile.

Insecure Narcissist

I have already established that I am quite an insecure person. In fact, the other day I even posted an entire paragraph about how I don’t find myself attractive. But there’s more to it. Or rather, more things that go on inside my head that conflict with it.

Sometimes, I have days when my make-up turns out nice. Or when I manage to blow-dry my hair dead-straight like it should be. Or when I wear a really nice bra. And the insecure thing just turns right around, and I basically become a narcissist. I look at myself in the mirror, or the window, or whatever other reflective surface is available at the time. I attempt to take photos to preserve the pretty. With the bra thing, I look down at my boobs every few minutes and give a little smile.

I am a photo person. I like having photos of memories to look back on and smile. I like being in photos – unless I look terrible, then I’ll be horrified – and I like taking photos of other people. But when photos of me exist – and I can tell you, a hell of a lot do – I look at them quite a bit. I’ll look at a nice picture of myself and think “that’s a nice picture”. And I’ll do that a lot. Because you see, even though I’m insanely insecure, and generally hate the way I look, I do still have a fair few narcissistic qualities. And it does not make sense in the slightest.

I’d Rather Go To Hell

Normally I am completely tolerant of people’s religions. I accept that they have their beliefs, and they (with the exception of my nan) accept that I have mine (or lack thereof). But sometimes my tolerance wavers a bit. Namely when I see dickheads with signs spruiking God, and claiming that we non-believers are doomed to go to hell.

Now, I have a few things to say to this. Firstly, what the flip? We don’t believe in hell! Your logic is faulty. You can’t recruit me by threatening me with something I don’t believe in. It’s like saying “give me all your money, or I’ll shoot you with my invisible gun”. And that doesn’t work particularly well, does it?

But secondly, and more relevant if hell turns out to exist after all – what’s so bad about it anyway? Okay, sure, there’ll be fire and possible pain. Whatever. But I can guarantee you that the company will be much better. I don’t want to be hanging around with God and his “holier than thou” attitude. He’s screwed far too many people over for me to be friendly with him. I’d be far more likely to take his little sceptre (or whatever he holds, if he holds anything on that cloud-throne of his) and clonk him over the head with it. I’d have much more fun in hell with all the other atheists this God disowned. I think Stephen Fry, Johnny Depp, Douglas Adams, Seth Green, Joss Whedon, Billy Connolly, Christopher Eccleston, Ian McKellan, Natalie Dormer, Helen Mirren and I could have quite the party!

I Am Not Normal

That is something I know. I have known it since before I can remember. At least since I was five. Usually it doesn’t bother me. But I know it’s weird. I’ve never told anyone. And it kills me in relationships. It’s not why I end them. That’s a different weirdness entirely. But it makes things different. I listen to other people talk all about their endeavors, and I wonder why they’re so normal. And I think about the amount of people I now know with such varying sexualities, and even genders, and I wonder why this thing, that seems tiny in comparison, is so hard for me to mention.

Whilst I write this, I am chatting to Oli. And since typing that last paragraph, I have told him. Everything. And he took it surprisingly well. He has not been scared off. I feel refreshed and happy. I look forward to Tuesday.

Evolved Reciprocation

I am a strange person. A very strange person. I shan’t mention everything strange about me here. Not only would it take years to type, but it would also take years for you to read, and I don’t particularly want to break the internet, either. But one of the weird things about me is that I often think about how random things are weird. Sometimes I look at a pinky toe, and think, ‘wow, pinky toes are actually quite weird’, and start laughing. Sometimes I think of names of people I know, and think, ‘wow, I actually know someone called [name]’, and again, start laughing. Sometimes I say words over and over again, and then crack up laughing about how weird they sound. Sometimes I say two words – generally ‘moon, star’ – over and over again, until it sounds like I’m saying them in the opposite order than I started.

And sometimes, I look at a couple in a relationship. And I think of all the couples in the world. And then I think of the sheer number of available people surrounding those couples. And I wonder how it is that people end up together. There are so many people in this world, yet how is it that so many people happen to choose each other out of the bunch? Judging by numbers alone, the probability of a person fancying someone who fancies them is tiny! Which makes me wonder – perhaps there is something in our genes that makes people like each other. This might already be a thing. I haven’t looked this up at all, so I might look quite stupid if it turns out to be common knowledge that I’m right. But whatever. It is a curious thought.

What the Flip?

This is unusual. When I talk to the original flirter on Facebook, I find myself carrying on the conversation, and not letting it die. And keeping on talking ’til like midnight. And accepting more dates. I may be kinda over the guy I like. Liked. Whatever. I still find him hot, but I have more of a connection with this original flirter. Like talking-wise. I think I need to find a new name for the original flirter. It’s too long and annoying to type.

Accidental Date

The other day the original flirter invited me out for coffee. I said yes, thinking it would be nice to hang out and get to know each other as friends. It was only later that I realised he may have been asking as more than a friend.

So today was the day of my accidental date. We just went out for a coffee (hot chocolate for me), and then went for a walk. And we chatted. It was nice. I had fun.

But do I like him as anything more than a friend? Do I want anything to happen? Ask me later. I’m still confused. But I’ll gladly see him some more! I’m just going to float along for a while, going wherever life takes me.

Sacrifice

I was shopping with some people at a market. I really wanted a tartan scarf, but I was having trouble finding a nice one. My friends pointed some things out to me, but the ones made of nice material were the wrong pattern, and vice versa.

After a while, someone mentioned that there was supposed to be a meteor shower that night, so we went to a forest clearing to watch it. The meteors that fell were very sparkly, and looked a lot like a combination of the Tesseract, crystals, and ice. Once it was over, there was sparkly meteor dust all over the ground, with some larger pieces of meteors stuck in the trees. We looked closely at the largest meteor piece, and someone commented that perhaps it was a spaceship, like in Superman. Then all of a sudden, the ‘meteor piece’ started to crack. It was an egg! When it had finished hatching, out popped a disgusting monster thing. It started screaming, and trying to attack us, so we defended ourselves with our swords and arrows. After a while, the monster realised it was outnumbered, and fled. We knew it would raise up an army against us, and planned to be ready for it when it did.

After the incident with the meteor shower, we all went back to the Melbourne Showgrounds to watch movies and sleep. We watched lots of movies, animes, and war instructional films, and at one point, Shannon fell asleep on my lap. As she slept, I petted her hair.

Later on, I was having lunch with Max and his family. We were eating some kind of apple pie, which was sort of like lasagna, and apple crumble, and meatloaf. Even though I hate apple pie, I really liked this apple pie. It didn’t taste like apple at all. It was more like a large pastry. Then Max beckoned me into the next room, and told me that we would win the war. He said he would deliver the bomb that would allow us to defeat the monster’s army, but when the person opened the door to receive it, they would be killed by an enemy soldier.

Once we finally had a whole army, we soldiers looked at our map to form an attack plan. We would be arriving by new dragon-shaped boats, and attacking from the sea in order to surpise the enemy. Half of us would attack from the East, and half from the West. Our aim was to drive them into Italy, where they would be backed into a corner and surrounded.

I was near the back of the West group, and as soon as I got near land, I drew my bow and started shooting. I got in a fair few kills, until all of a sudden, my string broke. It became disconnected from the top of the actual bow. A female enemy soldier was advancing on me, and I tried to keep shooting by holding the string and the bow together with one hand, but it was fruitless. So I tried to tie the string back to the wood, but I didn’t have enough time. The enemy soldier reached me, and unable to shoot her, I took out an arrow and stabbed her in the neck, killing her.

Then I saw Max through the door window. I forgot he was there to deliver the bomb, and I told him to go away, as it wasn’t safe. Then I remembered why he was there, and opened the door. He handed me the bomb, and then said “Watch out!”. I glanced behind me, and saw a huge enemy soldier standing behind me, with his greatsword drawn. He was about seven feet tall, with tanned skin, and his black hair and beard both in ponytails. He stabbed me through the back, and I died, my sacrifice in opening the door allowing my people to use the bomb to win the war.

People Overload

I am overloaded by people. Specifically, male people. The type who flirt with you. Me. You as in you in general, you in general as in me. This is a strange experience for me. And I am confused. The original flirter is pretty alright. I’m not into him, but I enjoy our conversations. The second one has only just appeared. He’s not really flirting, but he did say ‘hi’ out of the blue today. After having not seen me since high school. That is, after having not seen me in almost two years. That is a bit weird in itself, since we weren’t really friends in high school, and haven’t actually been close since kindergarten. But based on just the ‘hi’, it could be legit. Until you add that little detail that the fourth question, after ‘how are you’, ‘who are you going shopping with’, and ‘what’s new’, was ‘do you have a boyfriend’. And then the fact that he proceeded to call me babe and then compliment my display picture. This is weird. I am so confused. Like, seriously. I am typing this as it happens. Aaand I have just been told I look tastier than the sundae I am eating. O_O

I would not call myself an attractive person. I wouldn’t call myself an ugly person, but I am not attractive. I am plain. I have unhealthy straight hair that hangs there like a dead thing on my cheeks. I have a crooked nose that would be fine if only it pointed straight ahead. I’m fair chubby. I’ve stacked on the kilos and now have 1.5 chins. My boobs are enormous, but I don’t really do anything with them. I just wear t-shirts. I have quite a few pimples, and am not very good at applying make-up. I should lose weight, but I like food and I dislike exercise. Apparently eating less and playing netball once a week doesn’t help, but I can’t be bothered actually trying. I’m not ugly. I could be better, but I’ll never be hot. Which is why I physically cannot understand why people would want to flirt with me. It is such an utterly foreign concept to me, and when it happens, I get confused. Much like I am right now.

But as much as this causes me confusion, it also makes me feel quite powerful. Only a few minutes ago, I told the second guy that I wasn’t interested in him. I felt like I had power over him. And I like these feelings of power! I hope this doesn’t mean I’m going to become some sort of femme fatale. But I really do like this sudden increase in power. I want more. And I now realise how screwed other people would be if I miraculously came across superpowers.