Ice, Ice Baby

[sunshine_queen]

I got '13 going on 30' and wow, I had forgotten just how much I enjoyed it. Seriously, cutest movie of all time. The whole family watched it and even Daddy agreed.

Work today was boring- I finished 'Bel Canto' and started 'The Grapes of Wrath'. 60-odd pages in and I have honestly decided that I loathe Steinbeck.

Wackiness: 44/100
Rationality: 58/100
Constructiveness: 24/100
Leadership: 32/100

You are an SRDF--Sober Rational Destructive Follower. This makes you a font of knowledge. You are cool, analytical, intelligent and completely unfunny. Sometimes you slice through conversation with a cutting observation that causes silence and sidelong glances. You make a strong and lasting impression on everyone you meet, the quality of which depends more on their personality than yours.

You may feel persecuted, as you can become a target for fun. Still, you are focused enough on your work and secure enough in your abilities not to worry overly.

You are productive and invaluable to those you work for. You are loyal, steadfast, and conscientious. Your grooming is impeccable. You are in good shape.

You are kind of a tool, but you get things done. You are probably a week away from snapping.

Addendum, 2004/07/19: this fits me 99%, there is a slight inaccuracy however. We are not necessarily completely unfunny. If we have a sense of humor (I do) it surfaces on the occasion with well-timed, completely dry, very sarcastic, wit. - Chase

Comments

[non-horation.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Grapes of Wrath was weird. I liked parts of it individually, but I couldn't stand the entire book. The POV was weird, or something.

[dollsome.livejournal.com]

Gah, I have to read The Grapes of Wrath. I am, however, avoiding it like the plague. Heh. Heh. Heh.

I reeeally want to see 13 Going on 30. It is necessary!

Aaand . . . look what I found. Mwehehe.


-

This was unacceptable.
Callista Fields had millions of dollars. Callista Fields had one of the most
sought-after hair stylists in the world. Callista Fields had a different makeup artist for
each cosmetic, goddammit.
And still, Callista Fields managed to look like shit.
It was quite the feat, she mused dryly as she sipped a cup of coffee in hopes that it
would conjure up a bit of artificial energy. After all, surely normal people couldn’t
manage to look this bad after four hours in a makeup chair.
Callista was evidently extraordinary.
She was scheduled to be interviewed on The Morning Show with Carla McCool
in approximately ten minutes. She hated Carla McCool: she hated everything about her,
from the syrupy saccharine-sweet tone of her voice to her fake eyelashes. (Really. Who
wore fake eyelashes anymore?) She hated her clothes and her face and her tacky pink
fingernails (fake; painfully so) and the fact that her show was called The freaking
Morning Show. Couldn’t she have come up with anything more original than that?
Apparently not.
Oooh. It was a show. That happened to air in the morning. Did that give the
stupid bimbo any right to state the painfully obvious?
Callista thought not.
“Callista!”
Oh, joy. The unbearable wench was coming over here.
“Hey, Carla!” (Completely Forced, Barbie-esque smile was now in place.)
“You look fabulous, Calli! I don’t know how you do it!”
Bitch. BitchBitchBitchBitch.
“Oh, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” (Insert charming laughter here.)
“You’re looking absolutely gorgeous!”
“You think so? Thank you!”
....Bitch.
“The interview’s set to start in five minutes. D’you want to come sit down and we
can run through the questions really quick?”
“Sure.”
It was painful, to smile this much. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together
would surely realize how completely insincere she was.
Luckily, Carla wasn’t quite so rich in the intelligence department.
Callista wondered what the people at Mattel were thinking when they plastered
that smile to poor, defenseless Barbie's face. How could she do it?
Forget the fact that she was thinking about a 8-inch hunk of plastic and blonde
hair. If Callista was a barbie, she'd commit barbiecide.
Carla, on the other hand, she could see imposing such a fate upon. Carla had no
brain. Barbie did. After all, how many careers did Barbie have? Last time she'd entered a
toy store, she'd seen President Barbie, Teacher Barbie, Doctor barbie, chef barbie,
princess Barbie, and- get this- Marilyn Monroe Barbie. The doll was a genius. And she
still managed to look flawless.
Callista pondered back to see if she could remember Barbie's voice. After all,
President Barbie wouldn't have an annoyingly high-pitched voice, would she?
Carla batted her eyelashes, and Callista found herself drawn to them with a sick
fascination. What did they make those things out of, anyway? Calli had been blessed with
perfect, naturally curling coal lashes, but even if she hadn't would she willingly plaster
those spider carcasses on her eyelids?
"So," Carla squeaked, and Calli fought the urge to moan, "She opened her
mouth!" And melt into oblivion, like the Wicked Witch of the West. She also attempted
to stop referring to pop culture.
calli found that teasing carla mentally was an easy way to amuse herself while
surrounded by vapidity. As long as she remembered to nod at opportune times, carla
would be none the wiser.
Calli bit back the sting of her catholicism classes when she was little about being mean to
people- what she doesn't know won't hurt her!- and analyzed the shade of carla's nails, a
sick salmon.





Dude. The spacing is freakish!

But still. I had to do it, for nostalgia's sake.

[sunshine-queen.livejournal.com]

Oh. My. God. It's Calli Fields!

CALLISTA FIELDS!

WHERE IS ANDY?!?!?