Sunday, December 18, 2005
Something more to think about (on the subject of elevator etiquette)
When you are in an elevator, and someone gets on, you should ask them what floor they need, esp. if they are elderly or holding something heavy like groceries.
Snapshot of the girl who was in both my humanities class and my english composition class
Always aloof; she was. Unaffected, to be precise. She took to sitting next to me, mid-term, after one's seating was already a given. She would bring Cosmo to our english comp class, so I would ask to read it in an effort to spark conversation. We would comment on this article, and that half-naked boy, but our conversation never went outside that box. She started to annoy me the second week after her seating coup, when she refused to contribute to a brainstorm the class was having on paper topics. She had a good idea, she whispered it below her breath, I heard her whisper. I said, say it. She refused. She said, you say it. No. I couldn't even look at her after that.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Roberto Alonso-Virella
The warm air swirled high in the trees of Ft. Wayne, Indiana as Deloris walked out of the soda shop with her girlfriends. Across the street from her she spotted a man, dark skinned, light eyed, unlike other men she had known in her life. As she and her girlfriends stood on the sidewalk gossiping about their high-school mates, the man approached and spoke to Deloris. He asked her what her name was and his voice was heavy with an accent, his eyes seemed to see through to her soul. They arranged to meet for a date later that night, even though Deloris was only 15 and the man was twelve years her senior.
That night Deloris met Roberto in town. His white suit was striking and Deloris's feelings for him were set in stone when she noticed the print of his boxer underwear showing through the fabric.
Deloris and Roberto never parted after that much to the dismay of Deloris's family. Roberto was arrested for kidnapping and was released after it was discovered that he and Deloris were married.
That night Deloris met Roberto in town. His white suit was striking and Deloris's feelings for him were set in stone when she noticed the print of his boxer underwear showing through the fabric.
Deloris and Roberto never parted after that much to the dismay of Deloris's family. Roberto was arrested for kidnapping and was released after it was discovered that he and Deloris were married.
The scar
It has been eleven months since Crush and I broke up and I still think about him daily. Why just this morning I woke up from a dream of him and cried like I haven't in months. I can't put my finger on why he still haunts me but I suspect that it has a bit to do with how tumultuous our relationship was while it did last, and is most probably because I have so many unanswered questions about why it had to end.
Unrequited love is perhaps the most hurtful thing one has to endure in life. It leaves a scar that never quite heals, but instead gets rubbery and thick. It leaves the heart unlovable, unable to love again, causes one's belief in the mere possibility of love to vanish. It is as if pouring one's heart into something so abysmal, as the unrequited form of love, will continue to vacuum any semblance of remaining love for eternity.
The other week, in a moment of both drunken boldness and stupidity, I emailed Crush to tell him how devastated I was that he and I weren't friends, that I hoped he was well, and other niceties I was sure would renew his interest in me. It's been awhile and anything that is sent from him at this point is not worth anything; it still hurts though. It cuts into my scar, building it up, emptying me.
Unrequited love is perhaps the most hurtful thing one has to endure in life. It leaves a scar that never quite heals, but instead gets rubbery and thick. It leaves the heart unlovable, unable to love again, causes one's belief in the mere possibility of love to vanish. It is as if pouring one's heart into something so abysmal, as the unrequited form of love, will continue to vacuum any semblance of remaining love for eternity.
The other week, in a moment of both drunken boldness and stupidity, I emailed Crush to tell him how devastated I was that he and I weren't friends, that I hoped he was well, and other niceties I was sure would renew his interest in me. It's been awhile and anything that is sent from him at this point is not worth anything; it still hurts though. It cuts into my scar, building it up, emptying me.
Friday, November 04, 2005
iPod playlist November 2005
"I Can't Stand the Rain" Ann Peebles
"Beautiful Disaster" 311
"Shuffle Your Feet" Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
"The Man in Me"
"Else" Built to Spill
"Paloma Negra" Chevela Vargas
"A Lack of Color" Death Cab for Cutie
"Shadowboxer" Fiona Apple
"Dare" Gorillaz
"All My Rowdy Friends" Hank Williams Jr.
"Somebody's Baby" Jackson Browne
"Crimson and Clover" Tommy James and the Shondells
"All These Things That I've Done" The Killers
"La Bruja" Los Vega and Selma Hayek
"Stay Here and Drink" Merle Haggard
"Harvest Moon" Neil Young
"Try a Little Tenderness" Otis Redding
"Non-Photo Blue" Pinback
"Shine on You Crazy Diamond" Pink Floyd
"Set Adrift on Memory Bliss" PM Dawn
"Angry Johnny" Poe
"There There" Radiohead
"Sleepwalk" Ritchie Valens
"By your Side" Sade
"Hypnotize" System of a Down
"Tear in your Hand" Tori Amos
"You Were Always On my Mind" Willie Nelson
"Beautiful Disaster" 311
"Shuffle Your Feet" Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
"The Man in Me"
"Else" Built to Spill
"Paloma Negra" Chevela Vargas
"A Lack of Color" Death Cab for Cutie
"Shadowboxer" Fiona Apple
"Dare" Gorillaz
"All My Rowdy Friends" Hank Williams Jr.
"Somebody's Baby" Jackson Browne
"Crimson and Clover" Tommy James and the Shondells
"All These Things That I've Done" The Killers
"La Bruja" Los Vega and Selma Hayek
"Stay Here and Drink" Merle Haggard
"Harvest Moon" Neil Young
"Try a Little Tenderness" Otis Redding
"Non-Photo Blue" Pinback
"Shine on You Crazy Diamond" Pink Floyd
"Set Adrift on Memory Bliss" PM Dawn
"Angry Johnny" Poe
"There There" Radiohead
"Sleepwalk" Ritchie Valens
"By your Side" Sade
"Hypnotize" System of a Down
"Tear in your Hand" Tori Amos
"You Were Always On my Mind" Willie Nelson
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Think about it.
Whenever I am waiting for the elevator in my apartment building I make sure that I stand back a distance in case someone should be coming out of the elevator. Have you ever come out of an elevator and had someone walking in while you were trying to walk out? It is so rude.
Friday, October 14, 2005
How ABBA saved my life and other musings
How I felt then is how it feels to know that you are alone in the world. That feeling of hopelessness when you know that somehow you where wired wrong, differently than the others. I felt no connection with anyone. I was one person in a sea of other people, none of us really connecting to one another. None of us really understanding one another.
I lay in my rack, silent tears streaming, hot, down the side of my face, seeking comfort in my ears. My nose so filled with snot that it leaked out, lava.
I breathed, quick, sucking breaths in through my mouth. I breathed out silent, slow, forceful, wanting my whole being breathed out.
The way I felt then is the way it feels to realize that you have no soul. That you are only an intelligent animal and that you aren't special at all. Your whole life is a sham and so is everything else. It's the way it feels to lose faith.
The way I felt then was that ABBA was singing to me when they sang
"Chiquitita, you and I know
How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they’re leaving
You’ll be dancing once again and the pain will end
You will have no time for grieving
Chiquitita, you and I cry
But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you."
And that was all I needed to survive the loss of my soul. One song.
But how I feel now is worse. Even ABBA can't help me deal with the emptiness I've discovered now that I'm in the same place again. I'm still utterly alone. I will always be alone, except for myself, a monstrous being.
I lay in my rack, silent tears streaming, hot, down the side of my face, seeking comfort in my ears. My nose so filled with snot that it leaked out, lava.
I breathed, quick, sucking breaths in through my mouth. I breathed out silent, slow, forceful, wanting my whole being breathed out.
The way I felt then is the way it feels to realize that you have no soul. That you are only an intelligent animal and that you aren't special at all. Your whole life is a sham and so is everything else. It's the way it feels to lose faith.
The way I felt then was that ABBA was singing to me when they sang
"Chiquitita, you and I know
How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they’re leaving
You’ll be dancing once again and the pain will end
You will have no time for grieving
Chiquitita, you and I cry
But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you."
And that was all I needed to survive the loss of my soul. One song.
But how I feel now is worse. Even ABBA can't help me deal with the emptiness I've discovered now that I'm in the same place again. I'm still utterly alone. I will always be alone, except for myself, a monstrous being.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Oh, the Trauma (revisited)
This is a post that I have chosen to revise for a class that I am taking. the original was posted this time last year. Scarey how a year can change a person.
About halfway through my second bottle, I declared to myself that champagne was, from that point on, my drink of choice. I started drinking shortly after I got out of bed, which sounds bad, but in reality it was three in the afternoon, so it was really quite reasonable. I drank because life bored me, or maybe I was terribly, utterly sad. In any case, I could not think of anything else that would be as fun would require such little effort.
So, I got the bottles with big, fat corks that are impossible to put in once removed, making it necessary to finish the whole bottle before it goes flat so that no money is wasted. I was about halfway through my second bottle when Don called and said he was picking me up in five minutes. I downed the rest of the bottle and went outside to smoke a cigarette and wait.
I suppose that Don picked me up because the next thing I knew I was naked in a hot tub. The grittiness of the cement on my bare bottom, was the only thing I could feel at that point. To me it was nails on a chalkboard, which might explain why I got so irritated at the girl sitting across from me when she asked if I was all right. Of course I was not all right, but in my mind, that was none of her business; besides she was fat and the sight of her naked body was making me nauseous. I told her to fuck off. She must have taken offense to that because the next thing I knew the water level in the hot tub got lower as she lifted her fat ass out of it and stomped into the house.
I forgot all about Fat Girl until her friend, the girl whose hot tub I was sitting in, (I think her name was Leah) came out to ask why Fat Girl left. Don explained what had happened and then Leah, apparently oblivious to the fact that I was slightly unstable, started to scold me. My soul was warring.
This Leah chick might have said five words to me before I was out of the hot tub and on my way to her deathbed. The way I saw it, this Leah chick needed to be knocked down a notch. Who the fuck did she think she was? She epitomized all that was wrong in the world to me. I knew that if I kicked and bitted and wriggled hard enough, the people holding me back from her would give up, enabling me to satisfy my bloodlust. If I could just get one hand on her, I knew she would not walk away without a chunk of flesh missing - all I wanted was to break her open.
My small body felt enormous with power. I wanted to kick her feet out from under her so that she fell sideways - dumb - then grab her hair and pull her head up and *pound, pound*!!, push her back down by her forehead again and again. After that became tedious, I would either stand up and start stomping on her skull with my bare feet, water still dripping off my naked body; or maybe I would stomp on her neck. I could imagine the texture of her Adam’s apple crunching under the arch of my foot - I could taste the iron in
the blood that would gush onto her taste buds.
This is how I wanted it to happen: I would stand there, panting, while everyone looked on in horror. A siren would wail in the distance, the chlorine would dry on my skin, smell sweet, and the camera would fade to black. Of course, none of that happened and the ending is a lot less satisfying: I woke up alone with my head in my toilet, my hair floating on top of the water in the vomit filled bowl.
About halfway through my second bottle, I declared to myself that champagne was, from that point on, my drink of choice. I started drinking shortly after I got out of bed, which sounds bad, but in reality it was three in the afternoon, so it was really quite reasonable. I drank because life bored me, or maybe I was terribly, utterly sad. In any case, I could not think of anything else that would be as fun would require such little effort.
So, I got the bottles with big, fat corks that are impossible to put in once removed, making it necessary to finish the whole bottle before it goes flat so that no money is wasted. I was about halfway through my second bottle when Don called and said he was picking me up in five minutes. I downed the rest of the bottle and went outside to smoke a cigarette and wait.
I suppose that Don picked me up because the next thing I knew I was naked in a hot tub. The grittiness of the cement on my bare bottom, was the only thing I could feel at that point. To me it was nails on a chalkboard, which might explain why I got so irritated at the girl sitting across from me when she asked if I was all right. Of course I was not all right, but in my mind, that was none of her business; besides she was fat and the sight of her naked body was making me nauseous. I told her to fuck off. She must have taken offense to that because the next thing I knew the water level in the hot tub got lower as she lifted her fat ass out of it and stomped into the house.
I forgot all about Fat Girl until her friend, the girl whose hot tub I was sitting in, (I think her name was Leah) came out to ask why Fat Girl left. Don explained what had happened and then Leah, apparently oblivious to the fact that I was slightly unstable, started to scold me. My soul was warring.
This Leah chick might have said five words to me before I was out of the hot tub and on my way to her deathbed. The way I saw it, this Leah chick needed to be knocked down a notch. Who the fuck did she think she was? She epitomized all that was wrong in the world to me. I knew that if I kicked and bitted and wriggled hard enough, the people holding me back from her would give up, enabling me to satisfy my bloodlust. If I could just get one hand on her, I knew she would not walk away without a chunk of flesh missing - all I wanted was to break her open.
My small body felt enormous with power. I wanted to kick her feet out from under her so that she fell sideways - dumb - then grab her hair and pull her head up and *pound, pound*!!, push her back down by her forehead again and again. After that became tedious, I would either stand up and start stomping on her skull with my bare feet, water still dripping off my naked body; or maybe I would stomp on her neck. I could imagine the texture of her Adam’s apple crunching under the arch of my foot - I could taste the iron in
the blood that would gush onto her taste buds.
This is how I wanted it to happen: I would stand there, panting, while everyone looked on in horror. A siren would wail in the distance, the chlorine would dry on my skin, smell sweet, and the camera would fade to black. Of course, none of that happened and the ending is a lot less satisfying: I woke up alone with my head in my toilet, my hair floating on top of the water in the vomit filled bowl.
In the corner
In the corner behind me, a caged bird sings. An afternoon breeze billows the delicate, green curtains, cools the warm summer afternoon. From the deep chair where I am sitting I can see, through a southern facing window, the trees saluting the breeze; their leaves reflecting the sun like a million mirrors. Groove Armada’s Down by the River plays like a soundtrack.
The room is cool because of its white marble floors, slightly dark because of its position in relation to the sun. The chair in which I am sitting in is green and covered in soft velvet. Most everything in the room is green. The table next to me is green, the glass out of which I am drinking a martini is green, the olive in the martini is green. Condensation forms on the glass, marks its territory on the table, making the green darker. This room is my mental greenhouse, fertilizer for my soul.
It is a small room with only a few bits of furniture. It would feel bare were it not for the tall, wooden bookcases brimming with books that line the walls. The smell of the books - peppery, dusty paper - permeates the room and when I breathe in it settles thick on the back of my tongue.
The smell makes me comfortable, and combined with the warmth of the afternoon and the martini I soon begin to feel drowsy. As I settle back into my chair and feel the alcohol buzz through my body, numbing it. I am aware of my teeth and feel myself sinking deeper into my chair. In the corner behind me, a caged bird sings.
The room is cool because of its white marble floors, slightly dark because of its position in relation to the sun. The chair in which I am sitting in is green and covered in soft velvet. Most everything in the room is green. The table next to me is green, the glass out of which I am drinking a martini is green, the olive in the martini is green. Condensation forms on the glass, marks its territory on the table, making the green darker. This room is my mental greenhouse, fertilizer for my soul.
It is a small room with only a few bits of furniture. It would feel bare were it not for the tall, wooden bookcases brimming with books that line the walls. The smell of the books - peppery, dusty paper - permeates the room and when I breathe in it settles thick on the back of my tongue.
The smell makes me comfortable, and combined with the warmth of the afternoon and the martini I soon begin to feel drowsy. As I settle back into my chair and feel the alcohol buzz through my body, numbing it. I am aware of my teeth and feel myself sinking deeper into my chair. In the corner behind me, a caged bird sings.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Sunday Morning, brought to me by CBS
One of my favorite things is to wake up early on Sundays and tune my television to CBS. Charles Osgood, with his cute bowtie, makes me think of a world before the advent of starbucks and the Gap. A time when men wore suits and women wore dresses.
His voice is soothing, perfect for Sunday morning, his voice a lullaby, easing me into the day.
I get terribly upset when someone else fills in for Charles, more so if they wear a bowtie, which insults me. Do they think I'll be tricked and think he is Charles?
The show itself is sort of NPR with pictures. I love that. It's as if I'm a child again and CBS, my family, is close to me, telling me stories.
His voice is soothing, perfect for Sunday morning, his voice a lullaby, easing me into the day.
I get terribly upset when someone else fills in for Charles, more so if they wear a bowtie, which insults me. Do they think I'll be tricked and think he is Charles?
The show itself is sort of NPR with pictures. I love that. It's as if I'm a child again and CBS, my family, is close to me, telling me stories.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
marc and me
marc and me
I recently went to Washington to visit Marc, the badass. As I expected, Marc is still a badass. I'm interested in him. Literally. I think I might move to Washington and see how this pans out.
Friday, August 12, 2005
OMG!
I watch a lot of t.v. (& I luv pop culture) & whIl recntly watchN an episode of "r%m Raiders" on MTV, I saw a comercial 4 "My Super swEt 16" & @ d nd of d ad a Pepsi logo flashed on d scrEn & d voice-over sed: "brawt 2 U commercial frE by Pepsi". I wntd 2 run out & buy a case of Pepsi 2 thx dem 4 saving me d pain of CN d sAm old commercial Ovr & Ovr 'gen.
DIS iz d nu TV, brawt 2 U by Pepsi. By d way, Im a Coke 3:o) (Coke iz it!) so it doesn't mean Im switching 2 Pepsi. I jst wnt 2 point out dat MTV (o Pepsi, I dun knO which) iz breakN nu ground w refRnce 2 advertiZn
DIS iz d nu TV, brawt 2 U by Pepsi. By d way, Im a Coke 3:o) (Coke iz it!) so it doesn't mean Im switching 2 Pepsi. I jst wnt 2 point out dat MTV (o Pepsi, I dun knO which) iz breakN nu ground w refRnce 2 advertiZn
Friday, August 05, 2005
...What?
I love mail. I love email, voicemail, text messages, IM's, and snailmail. I love it all. I get really excited when I walk into my mailroom everyday and open up my very own (well, I share it with my roommate)mail cubby. I love to receive catalogues, and prefer to shop online so that I get those little slips of paper that inform me I have a package - oooh, oooh, and sometimes I even get a KEY to a big ol' cubby that has my package inside of it!!!
I love the fact that at 1400 everyday, my mail is in it's cubby, waiting for me to come and get it. Today at 1720 I went to the mailroom to get my Joy and to my surprise there was a big, fat, sweaty mailman in there putting mail in their respective cubbies. I was confused because
a)the mail is supposed to be delivered by 1400
and
b)what the fuck is a USPS employee doing working after oh, 1500?
So I asked the guy what he was doing there which may have discredited me because he was, obviously, delivering the mail, but again, I was confused (refer to a) and b) above). Then, the panic set in. I was relying on my mail being there!! *terror* Maybe it wasn't 1720, maybe it was 1320 and I was in a parallel universe. *dizzy* Was there a "mail emergency" earlier that prevented the delivery of my mail at its appointed time of 1400? *dread* Would my mail arrive in an unharmed state? The possibilities became instantly endless.
Slightly exasperated, I asked him if he generally worked this late (mostly to test my theory about the alternate universe) and his reply was,
"We work until all the mail is delivered, Ma'am."
Whoa. I am in an alternate universe.
I love the fact that at 1400 everyday, my mail is in it's cubby, waiting for me to come and get it. Today at 1720 I went to the mailroom to get my Joy and to my surprise there was a big, fat, sweaty mailman in there putting mail in their respective cubbies. I was confused because
a)the mail is supposed to be delivered by 1400
and
b)what the fuck is a USPS employee doing working after oh, 1500?
So I asked the guy what he was doing there which may have discredited me because he was, obviously, delivering the mail, but again, I was confused (refer to a) and b) above). Then, the panic set in. I was relying on my mail being there!! *terror* Maybe it wasn't 1720, maybe it was 1320 and I was in a parallel universe. *dizzy* Was there a "mail emergency" earlier that prevented the delivery of my mail at its appointed time of 1400? *dread* Would my mail arrive in an unharmed state? The possibilities became instantly endless.
Slightly exasperated, I asked him if he generally worked this late (mostly to test my theory about the alternate universe) and his reply was,
"We work until all the mail is delivered, Ma'am."
Whoa. I am in an alternate universe.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
street scene, 2005
Can I just say that seeing the Pixies at the concert last night was the single most amazing experience of my life. How are they so good? I don't even know.
Being at Street Scene last night was not a great experience however, as I DO NOT like being at places where there are big crowds, port-a-potties, no place to sit down, and a six mile stretch in between stages and beer gardens. That's just me. I need a drink and a seat.
Last night reinforced my disdain for the human race. I was talking to MIKE on the phone after the show telling him how sorry I was that he got his face smashed in at a bar and had to go to the hospital when he started going off about this post. Apparently, he thought he was Crush, which everyone who ever reads my blog knows he is not. So he told me off and hung up on me. How did he even get my blog address?
On top of that, Nikki was right, Blair is still Blair and that is that. Now I remember.
Being at Street Scene last night was not a great experience however, as I DO NOT like being at places where there are big crowds, port-a-potties, no place to sit down, and a six mile stretch in between stages and beer gardens. That's just me. I need a drink and a seat.
Last night reinforced my disdain for the human race. I was talking to MIKE on the phone after the show telling him how sorry I was that he got his face smashed in at a bar and had to go to the hospital when he started going off about this post. Apparently, he thought he was Crush, which everyone who ever reads my blog knows he is not. So he told me off and hung up on me. How did he even get my blog address?
On top of that, Nikki was right, Blair is still Blair and that is that. Now I remember.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Solid State
I don't feel comfortable with "morals"; don't push yours on to me.
I don't believe in love.
I don't believe in the capacity for love.
I don't believe in beliefs.
I don't believe in good.
I don't believe in bad.
I don't believe in guilt.
I don't believe in nothing.
I believe that what's right for you might not be right for me.
Don't judge me.
I don't believe in love.
I don't believe in the capacity for love.
I don't believe in beliefs.
I don't believe in good.
I don't believe in bad.
I don't believe in guilt.
I don't believe in nothing.
I believe that what's right for you might not be right for me.
Don't judge me.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Heart Disease
Seriously, it's America's #1 killer. I'm participating in San Diego's HeartWalk in September. If you'd like to support me, click on the link above.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Post Your Secret
I don't know if anyone has noticed, but there is a link on this blog for a site were you can post, or just read other people's secrets. Some of them are funny, some sad, some that make me think "who the fuck cares?". All in all, it's worth a gander. Here's my secret:
Incest turns me on. Especially if it involves pubescence.
What's yours?
Incest turns me on. Especially if it involves pubescence.
What's yours?
Fuck You Crush
You are a waste. I can't believe I wasted so much emotion on you. Fuck you for leading me on. Fuck you for making me feel less than I am. Fuck you for not respecting me.
I hope I never see you, hear from you or think about you again. I wish you the worst.
I hope I never see you, hear from you or think about you again. I wish you the worst.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Thursday, July 14, 2005
I have a sick mind.
I've always known this and have taken great strides to appear normal. When I was a little girl I would mutilate my Barbies because I wanted to make them different. After I realized they were hideous in their individuality I would throw them away.
It is my belief that little girls should feel a maternal attachment to their dollies or stuffed animals, but I didn't. My parents would tuck me into bed and strategically place all of my stuffed animals by my side and once they left the room I would kick them off so that I had the bed to myself. I would make sure to get up early to put them back on the bed before anyone found out.
I was most interested in sex as a child. My favorite thing to do was to make all the boys line up and show me their penises and then I would judge which was the biggest (at six years old there is no "biggest") and I did this until one little brat told his mother that I said he was the biggest and my game was over.
So that is why it doesn't surprise me that I have an arsenal of torture techniques that I dream of using on people who piss me off. It's natural for me to assume that the girl who is missing in Aruba has been ground up and fed to fish because that is exactly what I would do with a body.
These are not shocking thoughts to me. What's shocking is that we are still talking about the missing girl in Aruba when she has so obviously been ground up and fed to fish. But I guess that's the difference between me and you.
I hope I will never follow through with something like putting birth control pills into a mans beverage everyday until he starts to grow breasts, but it's not above me. I mean, if the guy is an asshole, why not give him breasts to knock him down a few pegs?
And then there are those people who may be thinking, "she needs to be knocked down a few pegs", and to those people I say: fuck off. If you don't like what you read in my blog, don't read it. And if you feel like you must post a comment about your opinion of me, please leave a way for me to reach you. It's only fair, right?
It is my belief that little girls should feel a maternal attachment to their dollies or stuffed animals, but I didn't. My parents would tuck me into bed and strategically place all of my stuffed animals by my side and once they left the room I would kick them off so that I had the bed to myself. I would make sure to get up early to put them back on the bed before anyone found out.
I was most interested in sex as a child. My favorite thing to do was to make all the boys line up and show me their penises and then I would judge which was the biggest (at six years old there is no "biggest") and I did this until one little brat told his mother that I said he was the biggest and my game was over.
So that is why it doesn't surprise me that I have an arsenal of torture techniques that I dream of using on people who piss me off. It's natural for me to assume that the girl who is missing in Aruba has been ground up and fed to fish because that is exactly what I would do with a body.
These are not shocking thoughts to me. What's shocking is that we are still talking about the missing girl in Aruba when she has so obviously been ground up and fed to fish. But I guess that's the difference between me and you.
I hope I will never follow through with something like putting birth control pills into a mans beverage everyday until he starts to grow breasts, but it's not above me. I mean, if the guy is an asshole, why not give him breasts to knock him down a few pegs?
And then there are those people who may be thinking, "she needs to be knocked down a few pegs", and to those people I say: fuck off. If you don't like what you read in my blog, don't read it. And if you feel like you must post a comment about your opinion of me, please leave a way for me to reach you. It's only fair, right?
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Like a good neighbor....
When I left Blair's house on Saturday morning, I found this nice note on the window of my car. Do you think he was bluffing?
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Blue
As is inevitable when ingesting large amounts of a depressant such as my best friend, Alcohol, I've been feeling a little blue this week. I can't tell if it's because I'm used to being around a lot of people and now that I'm back in SD I realize that I have no friends, or if it's because I caught strep throat from making out with a hot guy over the 4th of July weekend and I just feel bad in general.
Either way, I'm sad. I miss having people around.
To make matters worse, guess who called yesterday to tell me he was in SD? Crush. I asked him if he wanted to have drinks and he said that he would "love to", but that he was rolling with 5 of his posse and that it would be hard to get away but that he would call me later. I said okay. What else can I say? Feel sorry for me.
On the bright side, I bought tickets to see my favorite band, Built to Spill, on Sunday. Now I have to find someone to go with me.
I also bought tickets to Street Scene where the PIXIES!!! will be playing!!! along with some other headlining bands. Jealous? Good.
Don't forget to feel sorry for me though
Either way, I'm sad. I miss having people around.
To make matters worse, guess who called yesterday to tell me he was in SD? Crush. I asked him if he wanted to have drinks and he said that he would "love to", but that he was rolling with 5 of his posse and that it would be hard to get away but that he would call me later. I said okay. What else can I say? Feel sorry for me.
On the bright side, I bought tickets to see my favorite band, Built to Spill, on Sunday. Now I have to find someone to go with me.
I also bought tickets to Street Scene where the PIXIES!!! will be playing!!! along with some other headlining bands. Jealous? Good.
Don't forget to feel sorry for me though
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Hollister
This weekend I went to my parent's house for the annual 4th of July biker rally. All of my family, some of my friends were there this year. I didn't take any pictures, but my family did, so standby.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
I am a sexual predator
Mother Nature has quite the sense of humor. She planned out the lives of men and women so that each would hit their sexual peak at exact opposite times. My time, I can feel, is coming quickly.
I find myself wanting to approach complete strangers and ask them to fuck me in the nearest closet. It's a sick, sick thing.
At my family reunion I wanted to fuck my cousin, Brandy. He's so cute and I don't really know him that well, so, I reason, what's the harm in a roll in the hay? Everyone I've talked to about this has said not to do it because our babies would be retarded, but I'm not looking to have babies with my cousin, just sex. Is that so bad?
I think I need a boyfriend. Someone who I can be terrible with in a safe way. So, if you find a guy, send him my way before I get arrested.
I find myself wanting to approach complete strangers and ask them to fuck me in the nearest closet. It's a sick, sick thing.
At my family reunion I wanted to fuck my cousin, Brandy. He's so cute and I don't really know him that well, so, I reason, what's the harm in a roll in the hay? Everyone I've talked to about this has said not to do it because our babies would be retarded, but I'm not looking to have babies with my cousin, just sex. Is that so bad?
I think I need a boyfriend. Someone who I can be terrible with in a safe way. So, if you find a guy, send him my way before I get arrested.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Portlandia, Land of Ports
I arrived in Portland on Friday after a long flight that was compounded by my hangover that was my punishment for going to a Teegan and Sarah concert the night before. As was expected on my three hour layover in Salt Lake City, Utah, I almost converted to Mormonism which may seem trivial, but since I also contemplated joining this religion the last time I was in Salt Lake, I now think that the airport must pipe in subliminal conversion music. ...just a theory.
Yes, but I digress, now I'm in Portland and staying with Ashley and her boyfriend,(wait for it) Ashley. Laugh it up.
They have the cutest place in a hip part of Portland. I walked around yesterday and was taken aback by the beauty. Then it started raining and I remembered why I love California. I like dust.
I forgot the USB connector for my camera, so until I get home or buy one, you are all gonna hafta wait for pix.
Yes, but I digress, now I'm in Portland and staying with Ashley and her boyfriend,(wait for it) Ashley. Laugh it up.
They have the cutest place in a hip part of Portland. I walked around yesterday and was taken aback by the beauty. Then it started raining and I remembered why I love California. I like dust.
I forgot the USB connector for my camera, so until I get home or buy one, you are all gonna hafta wait for pix.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Marc
Badass
Marc is a badass. No kidding. He's one of the coolest guys I know. He and I dated when I was stationed in Italy and I have to say that it was the least dramamatic relationship I've ever been in. I loved Marc, not only because he was so devastatingly handsome, and had the most beautiful body, but because he liked to drink. We had some fun times.
p.s. he isn't a crazy NRA guy, I didn't know he liked guns at all.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Life After Death
Some part of me thinks that after death, we live on through the thoughts of our loved ones. Therefore, for me, dying of a disease such as uterine cancer or colon cancer would put me in hell. Whenever people would think of me, they would inevitably get a mental picture of said organ/genitalia/etc. that did me in, and say to themselves, "ewe". Who wants to be remembered as "ewe?"
I can't really think of an death that would make people go "yay!" whenever I was recalled, but for some people, my death itself might be a reason for celebration.
I can't really think of an death that would make people go "yay!" whenever I was recalled, but for some people, my death itself might be a reason for celebration.
Monday, June 06, 2005
...and the drama continues
I did a little recon on the poser. I think I might have to lay off of her. It turns out that she's really a wack job.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Poser
Some of you may be wondering, "why the creative commons button?"
well, it recently came to my attention that somebody was biting my style. All the way down to 101 things! Granted, her 101 things had a lot of "I was molested..." on it, but that's not my problem. Even the color scheme was too similar for me to stand there and let her call herself Trish the Dish.
I think we all know that there is only room for one.
well, it recently came to my attention that somebody was biting my style. All the way down to 101 things! Granted, her 101 things had a lot of "I was molested..." on it, but that's not my problem. Even the color scheme was too similar for me to stand there and let her call herself Trish the Dish.
I think we all know that there is only room for one.
IB
IB
Imperial Beach, California has to be the worst place that I've ever encountered aside from Guam. There is no "good part" of town in IB. I have driven and driven around it looking for the "good part", but it is as allusive as your momma during Fleet Week.
Just today, I walked this pier in hopes of a better view at the end, but it wasn't there. Imperial Beach is like every relationship I've ever been in: it should be great, there's not reason for it not to be (except in the case of IB, where the reason it's not is it's proximity to a dirty ass Aunt Jane), but it's, simply, crap.
I'll try not to fool myself into thinking that there are anymore "good parts" to any relationship I encounter henceforth. I'll give up now and settle in to my inevitability: man hating lesbian with no girlfriend and too many cats.
Marathon Update
OK, so it's not a Christian rock marathon, but they are playing A LOT of Dave Mathews, I can't decide which is worse.
Whoever shot Kennedy did so to stop the parade.
It's 0630 on a Sunday morning and there is a Christian marathon run happening right outside my apartment. This wouldn't be bad if they didn't have the audacity to blare awful Christian music at such an ungodly hour. WWJD people?
I happen to believe in God, but I DO NOT like Christian music. It literally makes me want to vomit. Also I think that there should be some law making it illegal to assemble this early on a Sunday. Also, I think it's rude of them to play their faith inspired music so loud that my possibly un-faith inspired ears are forced to hear it.
THIS JUST IN:
If I wasn't already awake, the police just kicked off the marathon with their sirens blaring. Why God?
I happen to believe in God, but I DO NOT like Christian music. It literally makes me want to vomit. Also I think that there should be some law making it illegal to assemble this early on a Sunday. Also, I think it's rude of them to play their faith inspired music so loud that my possibly un-faith inspired ears are forced to hear it.
THIS JUST IN:
If I wasn't already awake, the police just kicked off the marathon with their sirens blaring. Why God?
Friday, June 03, 2005
shudder
shudder
I slipped and answered the phone.
The instant I heard the accent, I knew the gig was up. Why did I answer the phone?
He wanted to know why I hadn't been answering the phone, what he did. I hate that. I can pinpoint it, but he doesn't know how mean I can be, so I chose not to go into detail. I just said that he was inconsiderate. I telling people that they are this or that when it comes to relationships. I feel more comfortable being honest with complete strangers.
At any rate, the Aussie is comming over this afternoon to re-claim his vouchers. I shudder at the thought of seeing him or hearing his voice.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
I hate wikipedia
I've seen people use wikipedia in their links to explain things that maybe wouldn't be understood by the layman. I thought this was cool and I asked matt what it was all about. It was sort of confusing, but I decided that this would be the perfect venue for a strategic communication operation for my job, Sea Warrior.
I poured my heart into a very informative entry. The next time I went to the link, found it had been edited by some guy named Bbpen. Bbpen replaced all of my up-to-date material with an article from 2003 (yeah, two years ago) about how Sea Warrior was coming soon. I emailed this Bbpen and based on his response, soon developed a venomous contempt for Bbpen.
Fuck Bbpen, fuck wikipedia. This is nothing more than a way for communists, disguised as liberals to force people into conformity by putting restrictions on what information is distributed to the masses. How dare Bbpen change my posts merely because I didn't know the "rules" of wikipedia. He could have changed the post to reflect the rules if it was so important to him, but instead, he chose the change the content of my entry, which is classified as censorship.
It's frustrating to say the least. Even though I am a resident expert of Sea Warrior, this Bbpen has final authority over the content of the Sea Warrior information on wikipedia. This leads me to question the validity of the rest of the information on wikipedia. How many others have tried to add their genius to the archive only to have their information deleted by the wikipediacracy? It's a dark day in the history of the First and Fourteenth Ammendment to the United States Constitution!!
I poured my heart into a very informative entry. The next time I went to the link, found it had been edited by some guy named Bbpen. Bbpen replaced all of my up-to-date material with an article from 2003 (yeah, two years ago) about how Sea Warrior was coming soon. I emailed this Bbpen and based on his response, soon developed a venomous contempt for Bbpen.
Fuck Bbpen, fuck wikipedia. This is nothing more than a way for communists, disguised as liberals to force people into conformity by putting restrictions on what information is distributed to the masses. How dare Bbpen change my posts merely because I didn't know the "rules" of wikipedia. He could have changed the post to reflect the rules if it was so important to him, but instead, he chose the change the content of my entry, which is classified as censorship.
It's frustrating to say the least. Even though I am a resident expert of Sea Warrior, this Bbpen has final authority over the content of the Sea Warrior information on wikipedia. This leads me to question the validity of the rest of the information on wikipedia. How many others have tried to add their genius to the archive only to have their information deleted by the wikipediacracy? It's a dark day in the history of the First and Fourteenth Ammendment to the United States Constitution!!
My favorite thing to do:
is to get drunk in the middle of the day; the morning even. Bloody Mary's are the best for this because they give the feeling of eating a meal so that food never comes into the picture and the day can be spent in a perpetual state of pissed.
Everything I know, I learned from television.
I've spentthis Memorial Day weekend sleeping. I'm not kidding. I get up to eat, pee, and that's it. I guess I was tired.
I still think it has to do with my caffeine intake. My little body is just screaming for a fix and is going on strike until it gets it. I'm torn. I know the ill effects of caffeine, but every part of me is saying "who cares?".
People on TV drink coffee, tea, soda, constantly. On talk shows they always give the guest a cup of what? -coffee, because it's America's beverage. I know that everyone else in America drinks coffee, just look down the street where I'm sure you'll see a Starbucks, or some other crack-house. This is surely an indicator of the social stance toward caffeine consumption. Why do I think I'm so much better than the rest of America? Am I too good for caffeine? No.
Alas, I'm still torn. sob.
I still think it has to do with my caffeine intake. My little body is just screaming for a fix and is going on strike until it gets it. I'm torn. I know the ill effects of caffeine, but every part of me is saying "who cares?".
People on TV drink coffee, tea, soda, constantly. On talk shows they always give the guest a cup of what? -coffee, because it's America's beverage. I know that everyone else in America drinks coffee, just look down the street where I'm sure you'll see a Starbucks, or some other crack-house. This is surely an indicator of the social stance toward caffeine consumption. Why do I think I'm so much better than the rest of America? Am I too good for caffeine? No.
Alas, I'm still torn. sob.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Coffee
I recently tried to quit caffeine. I did this because I was becoming terribly anxious and I refuse to believe that it's from drinking too much alcohol. Naturally, caffeine is the next best drug to eliminate, right?
Have you ever tried to quit caffeine? You may laugh (ha, ha), and say "child's play!! I can do that!!", but after about two days you would be so foggy-headed that you would forage a compost bucket for the leftover coffee grinds.
The site that's linked above (yes, some of my titles are linked now, so don't miss out) is obviously run by hippies. Hippies have their place in society. For instance, if I were coming down off of a nasty heroin addiction, hippies would make sure I had plenty of methodone to ease me out of one addiction and into another. As it stands, there is no "easy way" to detox from coffee. I've tried this once before. No matter how much time elapses, I still stay foggy. End result: I research the upside of caffeine so I can tell myself that I'm doing myself a favor by drinking a cup of joe.
Have you ever tried to quit caffeine? You may laugh (ha, ha), and say "child's play!! I can do that!!", but after about two days you would be so foggy-headed that you would forage a compost bucket for the leftover coffee grinds.
The site that's linked above (yes, some of my titles are linked now, so don't miss out) is obviously run by hippies. Hippies have their place in society. For instance, if I were coming down off of a nasty heroin addiction, hippies would make sure I had plenty of methodone to ease me out of one addiction and into another. As it stands, there is no "easy way" to detox from coffee. I've tried this once before. No matter how much time elapses, I still stay foggy. End result: I research the upside of caffeine so I can tell myself that I'm doing myself a favor by drinking a cup of joe.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
So, what are your hobbies?
I pride myself on not having a favorite this or a most hated that, but I have to admit that the thing I hate to hear the most is "what do you do in your spare time?"
It makes me defensive. Why do you care? Are you really listening? Would you like to join me in a "spare time activity?"
It makes me feel ashamed. I don't like to do anything in my spare time. Rather I like to do nothing in my spare time. Rather, I like to sit around, watch TV, eat food, drink alcohol and wax nostalgic in my spare time. So you can see why I don't want to share this information with people, because what I like to do is be private. That would be a rude answer, however, so over the years of antisocialism, I've come up with a few "hobbies" to feed the people who get off on that sort of thing.
For the fill in the blank "what are your hobbies", I give them: cooking, reading, writing, riding horses.
For those "ice-breaker-what-are-your-hobbies" nosy people, I give them: socializing, traveling, cooking, reading.
It's such a cliche question to break the ice with. I always lie, and I do it because that's my chance to forge their opinion of me. I can make them think I'm anyone I want just by telling them what I want them to hear, or what I know they want to hear. So elementary.
My method of getting to know someone is to ask them what TV show they like best. I find it's a better indicator of their personality.
Shows like In the Heat of the Night mean walk away. OC? Walk away. Simpsons? Now we have a conversation.
I've just come to realize that not everyone can be as great as me and my close circle of friends and accepted family, and while tolerance should be practiced, I'm not gonna preach it. I say divide and conquer.
It makes me defensive. Why do you care? Are you really listening? Would you like to join me in a "spare time activity?"
It makes me feel ashamed. I don't like to do anything in my spare time. Rather I like to do nothing in my spare time. Rather, I like to sit around, watch TV, eat food, drink alcohol and wax nostalgic in my spare time. So you can see why I don't want to share this information with people, because what I like to do is be private. That would be a rude answer, however, so over the years of antisocialism, I've come up with a few "hobbies" to feed the people who get off on that sort of thing.
For the fill in the blank "what are your hobbies", I give them: cooking, reading, writing, riding horses.
For those "ice-breaker-what-are-your-hobbies" nosy people, I give them: socializing, traveling, cooking, reading.
It's such a cliche question to break the ice with. I always lie, and I do it because that's my chance to forge their opinion of me. I can make them think I'm anyone I want just by telling them what I want them to hear, or what I know they want to hear. So elementary.
My method of getting to know someone is to ask them what TV show they like best. I find it's a better indicator of their personality.
Shows like In the Heat of the Night mean walk away. OC? Walk away. Simpsons? Now we have a conversation.
I've just come to realize that not everyone can be as great as me and my close circle of friends and accepted family, and while tolerance should be practiced, I'm not gonna preach it. I say divide and conquer.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
smegma
this post is not for the weak of heart. these are actual pictures of smegma that i was forced to post by ash.
view at your own risk
view at your own risk
circumcision? yes, please!
when a girl encounters her first uncircumcised penis (or vice versa), there is a certain degree of shock. the severity of that shock will shape her view of penises from that point on.
my first experience was horrid.
when i first realized that i was dealing with an uncircumcised penis, i was scared. honestly, i'm not a slut, but this was not my first rodeo, and i had come to think of uncircumcised penises as urban legends or something i would only see on a jewish boy.
maybe i'm just used to circumcision, but the un-version is decidedly not sexy. it's sort of droopy and aardvark-ish. nothing about it made me think "i want to put that in my mouth".
then, ashley told me about the smegma, which is, essentially, dick cheese. this is real, folks.
through research i can see the importance of the un-version and how it effects the sexual mechanics of a man. if i was an un-version boy and my parents showed me the facts about circumcision, i would decide against it. then i would cry when the first girl looked at it and said she had a head ache.
my first experience was horrid.
when i first realized that i was dealing with an uncircumcised penis, i was scared. honestly, i'm not a slut, but this was not my first rodeo, and i had come to think of uncircumcised penises as urban legends or something i would only see on a jewish boy.
maybe i'm just used to circumcision, but the un-version is decidedly not sexy. it's sort of droopy and aardvark-ish. nothing about it made me think "i want to put that in my mouth".
then, ashley told me about the smegma, which is, essentially, dick cheese. this is real, folks.
through research i can see the importance of the un-version and how it effects the sexual mechanics of a man. if i was an un-version boy and my parents showed me the facts about circumcision, i would decide against it. then i would cry when the first girl looked at it and said she had a head ache.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
shut up honda civic
what makes people who drive honda civics think that they are cool? i don't know the answer to that question, but my guess is that they are idiots. yesterday this dude (most likely a butt rocker) passed me in his honda crv (talk about a blast from 1994)and his engine was revved so high, i was afraid it would explode. he thought he was so cool doing 50mph in first gear.
if i was a bigger person (physically), i would make it my beeswax to follow people who drive hondas and tell them off. or, a more passive-aggressive approach (and a safer one) is just to type up a paragraph or so about how hondas equate to mental retardation and put them on the windshield of all hondas i see. the worst part about it is that i've begun to be car-ist. i judge people based on what type of car they drive. i don't even have to know you and if you tell me you drive a honda civic i will know that you are a stupid little kid who can't find enough responsibility in him/herself to save enough money to buy a real car. the honda civic is the hotwheel personified. drivers of honda civics have brains small enough to fit into hotwheels.
if i was a bigger person (physically), i would make it my beeswax to follow people who drive hondas and tell them off. or, a more passive-aggressive approach (and a safer one) is just to type up a paragraph or so about how hondas equate to mental retardation and put them on the windshield of all hondas i see. the worst part about it is that i've begun to be car-ist. i judge people based on what type of car they drive. i don't even have to know you and if you tell me you drive a honda civic i will know that you are a stupid little kid who can't find enough responsibility in him/herself to save enough money to buy a real car. the honda civic is the hotwheel personified. drivers of honda civics have brains small enough to fit into hotwheels.
Monday, May 09, 2005
pay attention to me
how come i don't have a following? i wish that millions of people would clammer to my blog daily, drooling over my latest post, holding their breath to see my latest hairstyle.
by the way, i'm buying a computer. watch out
by the way, i'm buying a computer. watch out
Friday, May 06, 2005
5.5.5
so last night i went with the aussie and his mate, ross to a bar called "fred's" so that ross could finish off his remaining 10 of 50 tequila shots for a trip (flight and hotel) to cabo, mexico. it was fun. he finished and since his friend had already completed one, he ended up getting two trips.
we ended up ouside listening to music and dancing. then this guy started dancing with me, and i honestly thought he was gay(i mean, this guy was flaming). next thing i know, my aussies are gone, so i call them on the phone- long story short, my aussie was pissed at me for dancing with the gay guy and didn't want to hear another word about it. i was upset. it ended badly. he kept saying that we were still friends, i kept saying fuck you. i got in a cab with tears streaming down my face and cried until i realized WHO CARES?
when i woke up this morning i had to laugh. there really is a GOD because i have the vouchers to mexico- both of them!!! take that australia!
we ended up ouside listening to music and dancing. then this guy started dancing with me, and i honestly thought he was gay(i mean, this guy was flaming). next thing i know, my aussies are gone, so i call them on the phone- long story short, my aussie was pissed at me for dancing with the gay guy and didn't want to hear another word about it. i was upset. it ended badly. he kept saying that we were still friends, i kept saying fuck you. i got in a cab with tears streaming down my face and cried until i realized WHO CARES?
when i woke up this morning i had to laugh. there really is a GOD because i have the vouchers to mexico- both of them!!! take that australia!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
g'day mate
so, i'm "dating"* an aussie. he hates america and g.w. bush. he hates that the breakfast cereal in america is chock-full of sugar and that it's nearly impossible to find a healthy breakfast cereal such as wheatabix, which is, apparently, the national breakfast food of australia (that and toast).
and he's a butt rocker. (don't know what a butt rocker is? click here to see if you are one)he listens to metal. funny, because he really doesn't look like a butt rocker. the tell-tale signs were not there. there was not mullet or acid wash cut-offs. i was duped.
between the hatred of america and the metal, i've told him several times that his fat ass wasn't welcome in america and that the ran was a joke and that i was sorry i've had sex with him because of all of the above. he just doesn't care though.
bottom line is that i really don't like him that much- and honestly, i find myself missing the hairy body of crush (this guy is all shaved which is gross because sometimes i have more stuble than he does)and i find that the sex isn't as good with the aussie as it was with crush because he doesn't know what i like. sigh. i really miss him. i'll stay with the aussie though because i like his accent. they all say things so funny. even "no" sounds funny. they add all these other vowels in to it so that it sounds like 'noir" or something. i can't dulicate it at all, but don't think i'm not trying. i'm like a friggin' parrot with the mimmicking. i'm sure it's annoying to him and his friends, but it's fun for me, and i'm the queen of the universe.
and he's a butt rocker. (don't know what a butt rocker is? click here to see if you are one)he listens to metal. funny, because he really doesn't look like a butt rocker. the tell-tale signs were not there. there was not mullet or acid wash cut-offs. i was duped.
between the hatred of america and the metal, i've told him several times that his fat ass wasn't welcome in america and that the ran was a joke and that i was sorry i've had sex with him because of all of the above. he just doesn't care though.
bottom line is that i really don't like him that much- and honestly, i find myself missing the hairy body of crush (this guy is all shaved which is gross because sometimes i have more stuble than he does)and i find that the sex isn't as good with the aussie as it was with crush because he doesn't know what i like. sigh. i really miss him. i'll stay with the aussie though because i like his accent. they all say things so funny. even "no" sounds funny. they add all these other vowels in to it so that it sounds like 'noir" or something. i can't dulicate it at all, but don't think i'm not trying. i'm like a friggin' parrot with the mimmicking. i'm sure it's annoying to him and his friends, but it's fun for me, and i'm the queen of the universe.
Friday, April 29, 2005
you're only cool if you use hair powder
alright, at first i thousht it would make me look like i had on a powdered wig, bit when ash made me try bumble&bumble's hair powder
, i found out that all it d0es is prolong your style.
so, i purchased klorane shampooing se extra-doux `a l'textrait d'avoine, (sorry ash, couldn't find b&b)today. my hair is freshly washed, i'll let you know how it works...
, i found out that all it d0es is prolong your style.
so, i purchased klorane shampooing se extra-doux `a l'textrait d'avoine, (sorry ash, couldn't find b&b)today. my hair is freshly washed, i'll let you know how it works...
yesterday i got a text message that said: "hello complete stranger, would you like to be my new text pinpal?"
yes, pinpal. what is a pinpal? did he mean penpal? and don't you hate it when you google something and you misspell it and then you get this
Did you mean: cantankerous
no question mark or anything. it's very condescending.
yes, pinpal. what is a pinpal? did he mean penpal? and don't you hate it when you google something and you misspell it and then you get this
Did you mean: cantankerous
no question mark or anything. it's very condescending.
it's always when i'm watching tv
whenever i sit down to post, i am hit with a major case of writer's block- i feel like i have millions of ideas to bitch about, but i don't. whenever i'm watching tv, all buzzed, i get these fabulous themes, but then they're gone by the time i get to a computer. maybe it's the lack of braincells.
have you heard of aperts? i saw a documentary on the discovery channel:
Apert Syndromeis a genetic defect and falls under the broad classification of craniofacial/limb anomalies. It can be inherited from a parent who has Apert, or may be a fresh mutation. It occurs in approximately 1 per 160,000 to 200,000 live births. Apert syndrome is primarily characterized by specific malformations of the skull, midface, hands, and feet. The skull is prematurely fused and unable to grow normally; the midface (that area of the face from the middle of the eye socket to the upper jaw) appears retruded or sunken; and the fingers and toes are fused together in varying degrees. Apert syndrome is named for the French physician who first described it, E. Apert, in 1906.
to me, this disease is too sad because the kids aren't retarded, they just hae mutated bodies, so it must be so sad for them to feel like other kids, but not be able to participate in being a normal kid and then a normal adult.
have you heard of aperts? i saw a documentary on the discovery channel:
Apert Syndromeis a genetic defect and falls under the broad classification of craniofacial/limb anomalies. It can be inherited from a parent who has Apert, or may be a fresh mutation. It occurs in approximately 1 per 160,000 to 200,000 live births. Apert syndrome is primarily characterized by specific malformations of the skull, midface, hands, and feet. The skull is prematurely fused and unable to grow normally; the midface (that area of the face from the middle of the eye socket to the upper jaw) appears retruded or sunken; and the fingers and toes are fused together in varying degrees. Apert syndrome is named for the French physician who first described it, E. Apert, in 1906.
to me, this disease is too sad because the kids aren't retarded, they just hae mutated bodies, so it must be so sad for them to feel like other kids, but not be able to participate in being a normal kid and then a normal adult.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
why do people think that they can fuck with me? don't they know i'm loco?
my roomate and i finally butted heads this morning when she started telling me what i "have to do". essentailly, i don't let anyone who doesn't sign my evals tell me what i "have to do", no matter who they are. she was trying to walk out on our lease that doesn't end until august and not find a roommate to replace her. i said notuhn! oh no you di'n't! then she started telling me that i was defensive again- someone, please tell the poor girl what defensive means- and that's when i lost it. but i idn't take it to the chaix level (have i ever blogged about chaix?)i was calm. end result: she bought me out of the lease for one month. if i find a roommate before the end of the month then she gets the prorated rent. i think that i was very resonable to let her off with that.
if anyone knows of someone looking for a place to share in downtown SD, let me know.
my roomate and i finally butted heads this morning when she started telling me what i "have to do". essentailly, i don't let anyone who doesn't sign my evals tell me what i "have to do", no matter who they are. she was trying to walk out on our lease that doesn't end until august and not find a roommate to replace her. i said notuhn! oh no you di'n't! then she started telling me that i was defensive again- someone, please tell the poor girl what defensive means- and that's when i lost it. but i idn't take it to the chaix level (have i ever blogged about chaix?)i was calm. end result: she bought me out of the lease for one month. if i find a roommate before the end of the month then she gets the prorated rent. i think that i was very resonable to let her off with that.
if anyone knows of someone looking for a place to share in downtown SD, let me know.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
your face is stupid
my roommate is suicidal, or at least i think she is because she wants me to kill her. she's doing everything under the sun to piss me off including packing all her shit in the common area and moving it all out of her bedroom into the common area. i even tried to dropher a hint that she was being rude and intrusive by saying "i'm going to take the tv into my room," then she asked if she was being loud and i sid yes- still, she continued. the real problem is that she just doesn't know me. she thinks i'm nice, and has told me that her and her friends think i'm defensive. what she doesn't know is that i'm offensive and abrasive and yes, i am being nice because if i wasn't, she'd be missing some teeth by now. i hope that her moving van tips over in transit and that all of her goods are ruined. i hope that a lot of other things that are bad happen to her that don't effect me. i hope she gets fired right after i find another roommate- ha! that's a good one.
my roommate is suicidal, or at least i think she is because she wants me to kill her. she's doing everything under the sun to piss me off including packing all her shit in the common area and moving it all out of her bedroom into the common area. i even tried to dropher a hint that she was being rude and intrusive by saying "i'm going to take the tv into my room," then she asked if she was being loud and i sid yes- still, she continued. the real problem is that she just doesn't know me. she thinks i'm nice, and has told me that her and her friends think i'm defensive. what she doesn't know is that i'm offensive and abrasive and yes, i am being nice because if i wasn't, she'd be missing some teeth by now. i hope that her moving van tips over in transit and that all of her goods are ruined. i hope that a lot of other things that are bad happen to her that don't effect me. i hope she gets fired right after i find another roommate- ha! that's a good one.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
to: matt
fm: tad girl
(if you're not matt,do not read)
have i ever told you how cool you are? really, you are on my top ten list of cool people- that's saying a lot because i don't really like people, but the peple i do like are very cool. i mean, just look at your blog, your picture alone is proof of that you are one hep cat.
fm: tad girl
(if you're not matt,do not read)
have i ever told you how cool you are? really, you are on my top ten list of cool people- that's saying a lot because i don't really like people, but the peple i do like are very cool. i mean, just look at your blog, your picture alone is proof of that you are one hep cat.
Monday, April 18, 2005
your fat ass isn't welcome in texas!
so ashley and i are sitting in a bar saturday night when this dude comes up and introduces this other dude to us. "he's from texas", is how he introduced him, no name or anything. well, it's been my experience that all people from texas are assholes, and since it was my birthday, i didn't feel i had to endure any asshole-ish behavior, so i just said that i didn't like people from texas. (i'm a state-ist) . texas people just can't see past the nose on their face, and that means that they don't understand how anybody could not like texas (retards). my retort: what's so damn good about it? nothing. that's what. fuck texas and fuck him, i think that's approximately how the rest of the conversation went. eventually, the texans grew weary of my insults and left.
next thing we knew, one of the texans returned and started slurring about how my fat ass wouldn't be let into texas. i was confused. first i was confused because who made him the key-holder of texas, and second because i didn't realize that i had a fat ass (and even if i did, we were sitting down- in the dark- so how could he tell?) and third, he's not a good ambassador for texas. he just proved my point. texas people suck. then i told a passing bouncer he was bothering us and the bouncer kicked him out. ha, ha.
after the texas people left, our waitress pimped us out to some aussies who were sitting a few table down. aussies are the best because they like to drink and they like to fight, just like me. we drank until they kicked us out and then we took rickshaws back to my apt. happy birthday me.
so ashley and i are sitting in a bar saturday night when this dude comes up and introduces this other dude to us. "he's from texas", is how he introduced him, no name or anything. well, it's been my experience that all people from texas are assholes, and since it was my birthday, i didn't feel i had to endure any asshole-ish behavior, so i just said that i didn't like people from texas. (i'm a state-ist) . texas people just can't see past the nose on their face, and that means that they don't understand how anybody could not like texas (retards). my retort: what's so damn good about it? nothing. that's what. fuck texas and fuck him, i think that's approximately how the rest of the conversation went. eventually, the texans grew weary of my insults and left.
next thing we knew, one of the texans returned and started slurring about how my fat ass wouldn't be let into texas. i was confused. first i was confused because who made him the key-holder of texas, and second because i didn't realize that i had a fat ass (and even if i did, we were sitting down- in the dark- so how could he tell?) and third, he's not a good ambassador for texas. he just proved my point. texas people suck. then i told a passing bouncer he was bothering us and the bouncer kicked him out. ha, ha.
after the texas people left, our waitress pimped us out to some aussies who were sitting a few table down. aussies are the best because they like to drink and they like to fight, just like me. we drank until they kicked us out and then we took rickshaws back to my apt. happy birthday me.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
TKS to all who commented on the microwave issue. i still think that my roommate is a fucking freak for even thinking that to be true.
i was looking back at capitalization and i realized that it has almost been two years since the first post. i can't believe it. let's take a moment of silence to remember the good times, and don't forget to read the archives. consider this my "flashback post".
i was looking back at capitalization and i realized that it has almost been two years since the first post. i can't believe it. let's take a moment of silence to remember the good times, and don't forget to read the archives. consider this my "flashback post".
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
let me tell you about my roommate
she is a graduate of texas a&m university and is very proud of it. she graduated about 4 or 5 years ago, but this seems to still be how she identifies with the world. the first question she asks people is where they went to college, and i'm sure it's so she can in turn tell them she went to a&m. get over it, let's talk about your life now.
anyway, last night she asked me to press clear on the microwave from now on if i took the food out before it was finished (before it beeped). i was puzzled, so i asked her why, and here is what she answered:
the microwave still radiates until it beeps. if you pull food out before that time, it still thinks that it is cooking something so it keeps radiating so that the food won't get cold.
now, i don't have a college degree, but common sense tells me that a microwave is not going to cook anything unless i press "start". microwaves are not intelligent computers, they can't do what i don't tell them to do.
please, am i crazy, or is she?
she is a graduate of texas a&m university and is very proud of it. she graduated about 4 or 5 years ago, but this seems to still be how she identifies with the world. the first question she asks people is where they went to college, and i'm sure it's so she can in turn tell them she went to a&m. get over it, let's talk about your life now.
anyway, last night she asked me to press clear on the microwave from now on if i took the food out before it was finished (before it beeped). i was puzzled, so i asked her why, and here is what she answered:
the microwave still radiates until it beeps. if you pull food out before that time, it still thinks that it is cooking something so it keeps radiating so that the food won't get cold.
now, i don't have a college degree, but common sense tells me that a microwave is not going to cook anything unless i press "start". microwaves are not intelligent computers, they can't do what i don't tell them to do.
please, am i crazy, or is she?
if you have a sore throat, it could be herpes
ha, ha, herpes! that type of humor reminds me of my great friend ashley, aka, smashley because she could do more drugs/drink more alcohol than anybody. i talked to ashley last night and guess what! she's coming to sd for my birthday!!! yay!! i haven't seen ash since i lived in italia. she and her boyfriend ashley (yes, a boy named ashley. i laughed too, but you're a grownup, stop it) came to visit me during their voyage on the great continent of europe.
ash and i always have the most fun together. during our chat last night she reminded me of the time in oregon when we had a sprinkler on the roof of my apartment. it was genius actaully, we bought a hose and a special adapter that took forever to find that would connect the hose to my bathtub spout. then it was easy to take the hose out the window and put it on the roof. the roof was covered in plastic instead of shingles, so the whole thing was, essentially, a slip-n-slide. sounds great, right? well, my landlord didn't think so. he called and asked if i had a sprinkler on the roof and i lied and said no, which is dumb because anyone with eyes could see that the was a srinkler on the roof. killjoy.
ya, but that's ash. my partner in crime. i can't wait to see what trouble we'll get into this time!!
ha, ha, herpes! that type of humor reminds me of my great friend ashley, aka, smashley because she could do more drugs/drink more alcohol than anybody. i talked to ashley last night and guess what! she's coming to sd for my birthday!!! yay!! i haven't seen ash since i lived in italia. she and her boyfriend ashley (yes, a boy named ashley. i laughed too, but you're a grownup, stop it) came to visit me during their voyage on the great continent of europe.
ash and i always have the most fun together. during our chat last night she reminded me of the time in oregon when we had a sprinkler on the roof of my apartment. it was genius actaully, we bought a hose and a special adapter that took forever to find that would connect the hose to my bathtub spout. then it was easy to take the hose out the window and put it on the roof. the roof was covered in plastic instead of shingles, so the whole thing was, essentially, a slip-n-slide. sounds great, right? well, my landlord didn't think so. he called and asked if i had a sprinkler on the roof and i lied and said no, which is dumb because anyone with eyes could see that the was a srinkler on the roof. killjoy.
ya, but that's ash. my partner in crime. i can't wait to see what trouble we'll get into this time!!
Monday, January 31, 2005
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
yes, it's true. i'm tired of being here in lemoore, ca. if it's not fog, it's 100 degree heat. if it's not micromanagement, it's complete lack of attention. if i don't get out of here, i'm going to snap.
i was thinking about my duty in naples, italy, and how much i hated it. how could anything be so bad to make me hate italy. then i remembered that it was the navy. the thing i hate is the inundation of bullshit. it's like there's no common sense up or down the ranks. for instance, here at vfa-22 we have an NC1 who irritates me. her voice is so loud and she doesn't realize it, i guess because she's always talking. "shut up", i think, but apparently, she's not psychic, because she never shuts up. on top of all that, she's a "close talker". you know, the kind of people who seem to need to be two inches from your face when they're talking to you and then when you move away, they act like your shadow and keep that two inch distance no matter what. "get away", i think, but again, she's not psychic.
i was thinking about my duty in naples, italy, and how much i hated it. how could anything be so bad to make me hate italy. then i remembered that it was the navy. the thing i hate is the inundation of bullshit. it's like there's no common sense up or down the ranks. for instance, here at vfa-22 we have an NC1 who irritates me. her voice is so loud and she doesn't realize it, i guess because she's always talking. "shut up", i think, but apparently, she's not psychic, because she never shuts up. on top of all that, she's a "close talker". you know, the kind of people who seem to need to be two inches from your face when they're talking to you and then when you move away, they act like your shadow and keep that two inch distance no matter what. "get away", i think, but again, she's not psychic.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
listen. some things are hard to get over. ever since crush told me about his slut in san francisco, it's all i can obsess about. listen, i can't even hear the word san francisco without becoming sick to my stomach. listen. i don't think i'll ever get over it. with something like this i'm going to need many distractions. listen. this is my broadcast.
Friday, January 21, 2005
well hello.
yes. i know it has been months since my last post, and maybe i'm sorry and maybe i'm not. yes, a lot has happened, and maybe i'll tell you about it and maybe i won't. i can't decide.
i will tell you one thing, something to make all those reading this extremely happy: i broke up with crush. (pause for applause)
i know it has been a long time coming, and that i have wasted a year and a half of my life on someone who, in the end, never took me out on a date, got laid whenever he wanted, and who now (not even two weeks after the fact), has a girlfriend in san francisco. (pause for uncomfortable silence) yeah, exactly.
so between rehab and breakups, i've had nothing to say that anyone but alcoholics anonymous wants to hear. until now......
yes. i know it has been months since my last post, and maybe i'm sorry and maybe i'm not. yes, a lot has happened, and maybe i'll tell you about it and maybe i won't. i can't decide.
i will tell you one thing, something to make all those reading this extremely happy: i broke up with crush. (pause for applause)
i know it has been a long time coming, and that i have wasted a year and a half of my life on someone who, in the end, never took me out on a date, got laid whenever he wanted, and who now (not even two weeks after the fact), has a girlfriend in san francisco. (pause for uncomfortable silence) yeah, exactly.
so between rehab and breakups, i've had nothing to say that anyone but alcoholics anonymous wants to hear. until now......