Let’s call this…Journal Time

In journal time, I will share from my old fashioned Journal. I think we’ll have a good time.  Just sit back. Relax.  It won’t take long.

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I want to thank the Golden Girls for being my friends.

I want to thank my body for hanging in there through all the drugs, the drinks, the fries and the pies. I promise to do better.

I want to thank my dog Charlie for keeping it real, by being so uninhibited he can shit with everyone watching. I want to thank Trinity for not clawing my eyes out.

I want to thank Mr. D for takeing care with me and my feelings.

Things that are fat + cute
hippos (especially the baby ones, they’re so cute I cry)

curly dogs

Theodore, the chipmunk (he’s not fat to me, but he’s been characterized)

 

One more thing, not in my journal. I’m not sure how I feel about this lady ass.  I mean it’s fucking huge, what’s happening.

The full story…http://roissy.wordpress.com/2009/07/14/fat-or-not-fat-2/

Adventures in not-so-interesting land

I got up this morning at 5AM…well, my alarm went off at 5AM.  I hauled myself out of bed at 5:30.  I am not a morning person, it was fucking awful.

I did this so that I could be at work for an event by 7AM.  I left my house and it was dark.  Terrible, I know.  I hope you’re feeling sorry for me.  I went to the WaWa to grab a mocha-caffe-extra this and that-something or other for a $1.50 and headed to my bus stop.  Did I mention it was dark outside.  Like “darkest just before dawn” sort of dark.  I stood waiting for my bus thinking it would be so quiet on the bus this early.  I could sit without touching anyone.  I could sit without smelling anyone. 

I had my tunes turned up.  Hedwig was blasting away, “Origin of Love”.  I was really starting to perk up. 

Them my bus showed up and it was full of people.  I had to sit next to someone.  But, the worst was yet to come.

I had picked my outfit out carefully, due to the importance of this event. It was a sort of coming out party.  The press was scheduled to be there and photographs were definitely going to be taken.  Not necessarily of me, but maybe the back of my head or the side of my leg.  You never know and you must be prepared.  So, I had a great top on, hair was just so, pencil skirt in place, black tights and profesh pumps ready to perform their magic and wow my audience.

And then it happened.  My fucking purse snagged my tights and they started to run right before my very eyes. I was so pissed.  I was so pissed, I pulled them off on the fucking bus.  I felt they betrayed me. I felt, that if they couldn’t get a long with my purse or my hairy legs, then they couldn’t get along with me.

They were in the first big belly I saw (that’s these solar powered trash compactors in town).

God, this was a boring post.  I hope your lives are more interesting and if you even made it this far, I apologize for your boredom.

Thanks dad.

I told my dad that I was getting homesick.

He replied, “Go for a walk.”

I didn’t.  I drank and fell asleep.

GBF or BF. Have you had your fix?

Most modern women understand, desire, and often time envy the GBF or BF.  That is, the Gay Best Friend or Best Fag. Today, I ponder this phenomenon.

For those who enjoy a BF and give into its powerful drug, fall into two categories. If your BF’s a twink you’re a beard.  If your BF’s a bear, Levi, or leather you’re a Goldie-locks (sp?). In my ideal, I would have a bear.  Well, unless you’re Dan Savage.  I’ll be your beard, Dan. I am your beard.

Anyways, what is it about the BF/Beard or BF/GL relationship that is so effortless for both involved.  I have a theory. (don’t worry, I’m not becoming a scientist, sluts.)

For the girls, we are transported to  place and time where snobby, bitchy, slutty and hilarious are acceptable personlities and everything you strive to be. A place where judgment is in the way you greet someone.

 ”Hey. What’s happening here? What’s going on? Why are you wearing that ridiculous cardigan?”

A place where you play “dress-up” and “music video” or “dance party.”  A place where you can binge drink and eat for no good reason and never lose you’re figure (because you’re also smoking and starving yourself for weeks in between). A place where your best friend comes over to drink, bitch about people, watch tv and then pass out, not to awake until the next morning.  At which time you will eat donuts or sausage cheese biscuits and then pass out.

I don’t know what’s in it for the BF, but I suspect it’s an exact copy of the girl list. Except for one addition. A place where you don’t have to pretend you get bonners for girls.

And where is this place? Are you eager to move in? This place is where I suspect all the popular kids were in 7th and 8th grade. I was not in the group. I was an outsider. For me these two years were fucking horrible. Life changing, to say the least.

But, for the popular kids, I imagine  their average day full of drama (of their own making and control), full of bitchiness, full of posturing and definitely full of fun. Is this place many of us never experienced.  And at some point, likely around 19-22 for girls, they grown out of this phase (men never grow out of this phase- straight or gay). Society now frowns upon us for such behavior, ladies.  We’re either forced to give these behaviors up (lazy sluts) or we’re forced to move it all underground and share with a choice few (fun sluts).

That leaves the fun sluts (men and women- most men, straight or gay, are fun sluts) to find each other.  Hopefully you will find a fun slut at one point in your life. Lucky for me, I’ve met many a fun slut.  Some have been closeted or just shy, but who isn’t at some point. No matter , we  have a blast.

That’s all.  Have a blast, sluts.

The difference between here and there

I’m in Philly.  I was in Dallas.  Here are the differences between then two cities.

In Philly	In Dallas
You don’t need a car	You can’t survive without a car
You walk to eat, to shop, to meet people, to kill time	You never walk.  The only exception is for something called excersise, but I avoided this.
They have Haagen Dazs everywhere (but no Bluebell)	They have Bluebell everywhere (and they have Haagen Dazs)
I’m the fattest person (actually, today I finally saw someone larger than I)	I wasn’t the fattest person around
Everyone curses, for no good reason, just because it sounds good in a sentence	Only lesbians and crack whores curse
The have wieners everywhere	They have tacos everywhere
Boys have beards	Boys have no beards or goat-tees

p.s. My dog is eating toilet paper.

What a world, what world.

My car broke down this morning. It was horrible.  Just stopped running.  I was on a busy street, during morning rush hour with Mr. D, on our way to his work when it died.  I was pissed and thought, “I can’t get out of this city fast enough.”  (I drive a little bity red car, there’s a pic of me waiting with my car at the end of this post)

Mr. D pushed the car off the busy street and we scrambled to reassemble our morning.  It was 8AM and Mr. D still had to get to work, it was, after all, his last day. We started calling his friends, which were either not awake or not taking his call.  So we started calling my friends.  The closest was Ms. E.  Now, a little background is needed so you understand how wonderful Ms. E was for coming to our rescue.

Background:  The night before this morning, Ms. E, myself and other pals were up until 2AM drinking and dry humping.  She might has been up longer.  Also, Ms. E was not going to work that day and planned on sleeping in before heading out on a 4 hour road trip to her family’s compound.

Okay, so I called her at 8AM, after a night of booze and humping.  She showed up, with a smile on.  Unbelievable.  She gave Mr. D a ride to work, she took me back to my car to wait for the tow truck and then most miraculously of all,  she made a second trip to return my keys, which I had left in her backseat like a dumb dirty imbeciles.

Basically, I owe my life to Ms. E.  She’s amazing and I will be looking for a way to pay her back.

To add insult to my injuries, I forgot to charge my phone the night before and my phone died about 20 minutes into this catastrophe.

Until I can properly repay Ms. E for her heroic, timely, lovely helping hands today, I give her this blog post and the following video from Dionne Warwick and friends, “That’s What Are Friends are For”.

Today…I’ve done all this and it’s only 11:45AM!

• pack (not everything, a very small percent of my total packing.  Actually just photos.)
• eat Jack in the Box tacos while watching Superbad (this was probably my favorite part)
• bath (1 hour soak)
• walk my dog

I’m totally bored, since all my friends are working.  My nights will be busy, but my days will be lonely.

I love you sluts!

My first impressions in my new city

I sometimes operate in a fictional world.  One in which I create future scenarios in my head and then act them out.  Mostly I act them out by myself in front of a mirror.  But, sometimes I get to bounce these ideas off Ms. A.  Since I’m about to start a new job in a new city I’ve been creating said scenarios as related to this new experience.  I’ll be moving from Texas to the Northeast and in my fantasy world I have started practicing for the types of questions I’ll encounter from my co-workers and my fictitious new friends.  Some of the question are:

“Hey, you’re from Texas, so where’s your big hair?”

“What do you miss most about Texas?”  I reply, “Well everyone has an aesthetician, so naturally I miss  mine.” (first of all, not everyone has a fucking aesthetician and I certainly don’t)

From these questions I had the bright idea to start compiling a list of Texas phrases that I can then pretend like I have been saying all along. The problem I foresee is that while I feel like these quirky phrases and sayings will charm the pants off my new city, the reality is my phrases will only be annoying and poorly inserted into our conversations.  But that’s neither here nor there…I still want to compile the list. Most of these sayings are not work appropriate, but that won’t stop me from working them into conversation, albeit irrelevant.

I know when someone is pissing on my pumps and telling me it’s raining. (got this one from Best Little Whore House in Texas, except they said boot not pump)

Well that just dills my pickle.

I’m as nervous as a virgin in a whore house.

I’m sweating like a whore in church.

If brains were dynamite, he couldn’t blow his nose.

It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a pool table.

Nobody ever drowned in sweat.

Cool your jets cowgirl.

Every time I stand up, my mind sits down.

Nothing dries as quick as tears.

Any suggestions…

Best Little Whore House in Texas

This is one of the better scenes from the movie.  The entire movie is really just a chance for Dolly’s songs to be performed by Broadway dancers.  In this scene, the whores are clearing out their personals and moving out of the Chicken House (that’s the name of the whore house).  The whore house was shut down by some dickhead…anyways they are sing this lovely Dolly song, “Hard Candy Christmas.”

The best scene (and really these are the only two scenes worth watching, so you’re welcome) is when Dolly sings to Burt Reynolds, “I will Always Love you.”

I find my solice in Strongbows and Goo Goo Dolls

I’m narrowing in on a place to live. Whatevs, it’s excruciating, stressful and emotional. So, to cope I’ve been sipping Strongbows and jamming to the Goo Goo Dolls. I know what you’re thinking, “she’ lives a mighty exciting life.” 

I should also mention that I have a crush on the feisty slut below.  You can catch her every morning on People’s Court! I present, Judge Marilyn Milian: