Bridget Peach

Bridget Peach — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 03:37:26 +0000

Congrats to one of my favorite rappers, Wiz Khalifa, and to my least favorite rapper, Pitbull, for coming out of the closet.

Both are now gay and dating each other! So great, right?

Tea & ghost-living

Bridget Peach — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 04:52:20 +0000

Each day at approximately 3pm I conduct teatime with me, myself, and I, regardless of whether or not my environment facilitates teatime. This can pose problems to the public, but I just can’t afford to make any adjustments. It’s a crucial part of my new lifestyle, which is, of course, the lifestyle of a very fancy ghost.

One particularly difficult situation occurred today, as I sat on the subway heading towards my apartment.

“Yikes! 3 o’clock, almost missed it,” I shout to the whole subway car after checking the time. Some people stare, but I pay no mind. I reach into my pocket and pull out my teeny tiny teapot. I don’t know where I bought it, maybe Target? As I begin to pour the tea into a cup which literally appeared out of thin air (just lucky I guess), I notice a couple seated across from me beginning to whisper to each other. Despite my best efforts to ignore them, I become extremely defensive.

“What the FLUCK are you looking at?” I yell from across the car. “This isn’t weird.”

I’ve clearly upset the couple, and I start to feel badly. “Oh no, I’m so sorry,” I say to them, “Wait! See, I’m actually VERY friendly….do you want some tea?”

They continue to ignore me, so I decide to put on my “tea hat.” This is a hat I made myself, out of candy. I float down to the floor of the car (because of my ghost abilities) and sit cross-legged, as teatime rules require. As always, I sip my tea very slowly and VERY loudly. I am actually slurping the tea in a disgusting manner, and after five stops I realize everyone in the car has escaped to the next car, and I’m alone.

“Hey, fluck them. They don’t want tea? They ain’t gonna get none.” I pat myself on the back, reassured that my life is amazing, and I know I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Here I am in my hat. We’re very happy together.

Bridget Peach — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 04:03:49 +0000

These are my first few posts of 2012 and they are sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo disappointing, no?

I’m really putting off a lot of things I could be doing now like filing away at my feet with my PedEgg, gouging my eyeballs out, rolling around in grease, and going to Target. Instead I’m watching HGTV, which is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much better.

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo how have you been guys? It’s been a while, I agree, and I’m sorry. My progress with this blog is like the frequency of sex in my life— once in a blue moon, man. Once in a BLUE.MOON.

Maybe the fact that I write this shit is the real reason I’m not getting any!?!?!??! Whatever, not worried about it

Husbandry

Bridget Peach — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 03:43:19 +0000

I gotta tell ya, I hope I end up with a lady because I am NOT d with calling someone my “husband.” Like, there’s literally no word more stupid than husband, and I’m not okay with it, I never have been. Katy Perry says, “My husband, of course, every day I call him and I’m like, ‘This happened,’ and he’s like, ‘I know what that means.’” Brilliant words from brilliant minds, obviously, but it strikes me as completely ridiculous to refer to someone as your husband unless you absolutely must. Which she doesn’t, because we know her husband is Russell Brand, except not anymore, and obviously we’re really all upset about it and crying big blue tears. For more details because you obviously must care, check out this CRITICAL article from MTV.com.

I’ve decided that “husband” is the new word for a fat, clubbed thumb. Speaking of which, do Megan Fox’s clubbed thumbs make her less hot? y/n? Here’s an informative video to help you decide. As one Youtube user, parfumeria33ro, describes: “Fox’s thumb is a disgusting turn off. That is a fact for me, and for others.” So it’s decided. She’s fucking hideous.

Actually, I can’t judge anyone’s thumbs, or husbands, because last night I took a lace doily off the table at a restaurant and I put it in my purse so I could BRING IT HOME and use it on my bedside table.

I’ll leave it at that.

Bridget Peach — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 22:33:35 +0000

H.A.M. was cool, T.H.E. is not. “The Hardest…EVER!!!!!” It’s like will.i.am is saying, Yes!!!! I AM trying desperately at every opportunity to prove that I’m relevant, because everyone hates my band and I’m unacceptably terrible.

Bridget Peach — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 21:22:05 +0000

Oh my god guys Ryan Gosling. Ryan Gosling, I accept your request to have sex with me. You want to do me? Fine. I enthusiastically accept.

One of my most frequent Google searches is apparently “ryan gosling hot” which makes perfect sense, followed by the popular searches of others: “ryan gosling hot body,” “ryan gosling hot dog,” and most importantly “ryan gosling hotness evolution.” Good.

Normally I’m not susceptible to developing sexual obsessions with certain celebrities, with the exception of the most unfortunate John Mayer Phase (critical portion of my development) back in 2001, which lasted, shamefully, until 2005. Whatever, I had friends. It was fine. Now I guess it’s just something about RG that makes me want to find him in NYC so I can accept his sexual proposal; he will like me, I know it.

Anyways here, this is what I was Googling just now, now you know a lot about my amazing daily life.

As you can see that’s me, and not Rachel McAdams. In case you were confused about it.

Bridget Peach — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 20:57:28 +0000

The UPS guy got buzzed into my apartment by someone else and I didn’t hear his knocking on my door because I was singing Christmas carols too loudly while simultaneously blasting music. “I heard your singing,” he said. I think the knocking went on for at least 2 minutes of “Joy to the World,” but maybe even a little of “Do You Hear What I Hear?” I didn’t really know how to respond so I just apologized, but I should’ve said something like “I’m rehearsing for a big caroling event and there are other people here, actually….there’s a bunch of us singing.” Ha! I wish there were several people in my room singing. But actually, I’ve never had ANYONE in my room. I’m literally the loneliest person on earth, hate me. Sorry, I mean, date me.

Hey, at least the weed delivery guy was hot today. Not that I smoke. It’s for a friend.

Rosie O’Donnell

Bridget Peach — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 07:12:38 +0000

Whenever people are like, “Hey… I’m Naomi” (which happens a lot) I’m like… “Wow! I love the name Naomi, it’s the name of my vagina.”

Check out this vid from a talented artist who appreciates vaginas as much as I do.

Spellbinding

Bridget Peach — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 03:26:56 +0000

How come the kid who plays the teen brother in Hocus Pocus never went onto bigger and better things? Is it because he’s the worst actor ever?

I also wonder if the term “rap singah” (i.e. “Rappa Ternt Sanga,” the title of T-Pain’s 2005 debut album) comes from this movie. Max, our protagonist, reluctantly waits for his younger sister as she prepares for the night out. Dad says, “Hey, Max, what are you supposed to be?” (Max is wearing a crisp white tee and blue jeans, completing the look with a cool pair of shades) “A rap singer,” he replies nonchalantly.

I do think this movie casts a negative light on teen virginity. A young Thora Birch takes a jab at her brother: “A virgin lit [the candle that brings the three witches to life and leads them through a chaotic and hysterical path through modern times in this hilarious romp from hit screenwriter Mick Garris].” As if there’s something wrong with being a virgin! There isn’t. As we all know.

Hocus Pocus is filled with so many gems, but my favorite is when Thora Birch gets real shiesty with her brother, and says, “I could never pull off [that dress]. I don’t have the… what is it you call them, Max? Yabo’s? He likes your Yabo’s. He LOVES ‘em!” What a little SHIESTRESS! (Shiestress = Queen of all that is Shiesty)

In trying to find you an appropriate clip to support my thoughts about this movie, I found this amazing video instead. I think this says it all (is that Chris Daughtry singing?):

I’m not a businessman; I’m a business, man.

Bridget Peach — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 17:51:36 +0000

There’s nothing better than Google image searching “halloween spooky” and laughing hysterically to oneself in bed, in my underwear, after stripping out of my business suit. I’m in the business industry now. Yes, yes, it was a long time coming, but now, well, we’re there– and we’re keeping it that way.

Hmmm, I wonder if this cold medication is affecting my current high? Probably. So “halloween spooky” has generated lots of results, as you’d expect, and I’m making one of the results my profile picture….now. Right now. Aaaaand it’s done.

Sorry I haven’t been writing to you (you as in my long lost lover, we were separated sometime near the end of WWII) lately, I’m in the midst of midterms during graduate school which, as I’m sure you can guess, can lead one to spend what little free time they have exclusively getting high and watching Beyoncé and Rihanna music videos on Youtube.