Friday, September 23, 2011

Happy Birthday, Suzy!

The scene: A hospital.

The people: The president of Poland, the woman who makes the best apple pie ever, and people dressed like they're on Grey's Anatomy.

The occasion: Some chick being born.

A lot of sweating, a lot of encouragement, and a lot of love. Then, the sassiest person known to man is born.

She's named Suzy.

End scene.

Suzy. Oh, Suzy. What do I have to say about Suzy that hasn't already been said? First, the serious stuff:

She is my sister. She may not be Mexican, and I may not be Polish, but she is. Nobody other than a sister can put up with the shit I put her through. I met her a little over 8 years ago, and she was my first friend ever. She's turned out to be one of the most important people in my life. Without her, I'm pretty sure I'd still be locked away in my shell of shyness. She's given me a sense of self I didn't know I could have. She's always been there for me regardless of how wrong I may have been or how ridiculous the situation was. We've had our fights, our laughs, our "What the fuck?" moments, and everything in between. She's put up with all my craziness and ignorance and tantrums. She's constantly telling me that I'm pretty (liar), that I'm smart (liar), and that I'm talented (liar). She doesn't make me feel anything less than awesome. She won't let me. And I couldn't have asked for a better BFF/sister/partner in crime.

And now the funny...

Honestly, how have we not been arrested, yet? The shit we've gotten ourselves into... We should have our own reality show. It'd be called "Dumb and Dumber." I'll give you two guesses who's who, but you'll only need one. She was the one to introduce me to *cough* stuff and slept on the New York City sidewalk with me so we could get into SNL. She didn't beat the shit out of me for nearly driving us off the road in Hawaii, and she (sometimes) humors me and lets me play with the toys at Target. She lets me act like a giant 2 year old, because she knows that's just me. She's done the Tonto dance outside of Monkeys shows just for the hell of it. She kicks me off of beds, because she knows I'm too short to brace myself and finds the look on my face hilarious. She answers my ridiculous questions with ridiculous answers. She's spent days on end just watching movies and ordering in with me, because we just feel like it. She sings at the top of her lungs with me while driving so I don't feel so self-conscious. She laughs when I tell her that I'm 30 and still wear footy-pajamas with Transformers on them. She puts up with my obsession with Nutella and Michael Bay movies. She doesn't let me abduct cute babies when I see them on the street. Without her, there wouldn't be Suzy Sundays, and that would just be wrong. She lets me continue to believe that Santa's real. She dances like Shakira and raps like Lil Wayne. She likes guys that are the size of mountains and then says she wants to climb then and go yodeling.

She's the awesomest of awesome there ever has been, is, and ever will be.

Happy birthday, you gorgeous bitch. I hope today's amazing and spectacular, because you deserve nothing less. Thank you for everything.

Suzy knows I'm absolutely horrible at giving gifts, so, in addition to the dinner and movie marathons we have planned this weekend, I thought I'd give her some eye candy. Suz, I hope you find one of these dudes if not all of them in your bed this weekend. Just let me know beforehand so I don't show up and walk in on shit. Ew. o.O


















I was gonna throw in some Jackson or RPattz in there just for shits and giggles, but I wanted to spare you.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Jackson Holds A Twitter Q&A, And It's A Fucking Car Accident

First, it was the "I'm looking for a wife" tweet. Now a Twitter Q&A. Tweetdeck couldn't keep up with the number of tweets he received. But, because I'm a nutjob like that, I kept count. Ready? Almost 4 THOUSAND tweets to the rat bastard in the matter of 25 minutes.

He knows what he's doing.

So, while this pile of shit is just getting bigger and bigger on my Tweetdeck, I thought I'd take the best of the tweets sent to him and share them with you here. Because it's what I do. And I'm still unemployed.

You know what? I can't even be mad at this. It's hilarious!


In a foot race? With a rolled up newspaper? o.O


Like a steel drum!


"Pants swell." I'm assuming she's either written or read a shitload of horrible Twilight fan fiction.


Wait. What?


BenMuthaFuckinJohnson. That is all.


I actually wanna know the answer to this. *grabs popcorn*


Never use the words "Douchey" and "Wipe" in the same sentence.


Video or it didn't happen.


I don't even know what to say about this.



Dishes. Mud. Boys. Laundry.


This just one of the many reasons why I adore her. That and she gives a mean pinky finger.


Monty Python FTW!


Sprinkle rose petals, light candles, play soft music, and feed him strawberries.


This. Is. Bloody. Brilliant.


Back off, Phoebe. He's Iris' lobster. Have you not read C, CD?! Oh, wait...


The man can create world peace, but even I doubt he can answer this.


Slytherin. Cuz he'd slyther into the pants of every girl in that house. Oh, snap!


He can, too! Its name is Dean. O_O


Just ask Mumble. And no.


The point when the Q&A turned into an episode of "Singled Out."


Jackson is a method actor. It took years and years of practice. *snicker snort*


What is your obsession with pirates, woman?!


*yells into that megaphoone he couldn't find* This question is why I'm a tree-hugger!


"Hi, there, sexy pants." Cripes. Where's autocorrect when you need it? #BetaForLife


Vomit. He likes vomit for dessert. Vomit.


#Sarcasm


This is probably the most important question in the world today. Glad someone asked. Seriously.


My boo likes to take hits of speed all day every day. #Shestotallynotkidding


Even if he wasn't, you think it'd matter to him? Don't hate! I'm just keeping it real.


I'm sure this is how so many men end up on Maury. #YouAreTheFather


*blink blink*


No! Of course not! Now, if you'll excuse me, my unicorn is waiting to take me on a date with the Easter Bunny.


Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch, please!


He's just not that into you.



He's neither. He's made up of fluffy clouds and Rob's hair and leprechauns and sparkly rainbows!


That's it. I have actual shit to be doing, but I'm gonna try and find something else like this to keep me from being responsible and actually doing it.


Con Amor Siempre,
Iris