11 days and counting

Eleven days until I’m homeless. I’m taking the move very seriously and maybe that’s one of the reasons I’m still without an address. I just don’t want to settle.  Here’s what I’ve done today to move myself closer to my goal of securing an address.

8:30 AM, woke up and let Charlie out, fed Charlie, let Charlie in, fell back asleep.

10:00 AM, woke up, called Doug to remind him that banana pudding is on tonight’s menu, lay in bed for an hour watching TV.

11:00 AM, move my body out of bed and look for lotion, because my legs are really dry and itchy.

11:15, find my lotion and also find my weed stash, apply lotion, roll joint and head for bathroom.

11:20, start running water for a bath, start smoking joint, put out half way through.

11:45 relax in bath, read the back of my bubble bath (Philosophy’s Mint shower gel, shampoo, bubble bath), get overwhelmed, read it again, sigh and lay down in the tub.

11:50, light the remaining joint, relax.

12:00, shave my legs (past the knee, because I’m a slut), marvel over my tan legs, note to myself that I was designed to be tan, relax and lay in the steamy water for a while.

12:30, after being thoroughly wrinkled, decide I really wanted a shower all along.

12:40, finish shower, towel off. Remember that banana pudding is on the menu, head to kitchen and prepare BP.

1:30, finish Banana pudding!  Yummy!!! Eat a sample, leaving enough for Doug.  Also, invent the following recipes:
Banana GrahamCracker Treat (BGCT for short)
Half banana.  Spread one half with Graham cracker crust (GCC) mix.  sandwich mix with other banana half.  Enjoy with sweet tea or cherry Kool-aid.

Banana pudding sandwich
Warm two pieces of soft white bread. Apply GCC mix to one side of bread.  Top mix with thinly sliced bananas.  Sandwich with the other piece of bread.  Enjoy with a glass of milk or a soda.

1:45, start blogging, watch Judge Mathis.  And this is where we’ll stop for today.  I leave you with this quote from Judge Mathis…”I’m all about tough love.  Emphasis on the love.”

Nerd

I’m tired of us pretending that nerds are cool.  They’re not.  If you’re cool, then you’re not a nerd.  You could be a quirky cool person, but you’re not a nerd.  The guy in this 9-1-1 call is a nerd.  I hope the 9-1-1 operator told this jerk, “You’re not dead.  you’re stoned. And you’re a nerd for calling 9-1-1.”

Rump Shaker mixed with Barry Manilow

This song takes me back to freshman year high school.  There was lots of weed, lots of sex, lots of time, but no money and no parents.  In high school I was totally into the grunge scene, but I couldn’t shake R&B.  So my CDs comprised Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Wallflowers, Sonic Youth, STP mixed with PM Dawn, Whitney Houston, Montell Jordan, BabyFace, En Vogue and Janet Jackson.  Mixed into all this was my dad’s record collection, which included John Denver, Temptations, Barry Manilow, Bette Midler, Helen Reddyand random 45s.

Random?  Yes.  But, that’s where I feel most comfortable.

BTW, I’m pretty sure I’m annoying my cube-mate with my random play list.  But, you know what?  She annoys me everyday through no fault of her own, just because I’m a temperamental and manic being. She knows that, she has to.  It’s nothing personal.  Until next time, darlings.

Know your fee, hooker.

On the train this morning, a gentleman of questionable means, started to chat me up.  Know this, when I’m on the train I do everything in my powers to look unavailable for conversation.  I wear ear buds, even when I’m not listening to anything.  I read a book or magazine. And, I wear sunglasses.  Regrettably, these barriers don’t always hold everyone at a distance. Back to this morning.  I avoided his conversation as  long as possible, until he started in with, “Miss?  Miss?  can you hear me.” What a fucking moron.  I pulled my ear buds out and, while still wearing my sunglasses, said, “What’s wrong with you?”

He started complimenting my hair, and my neck, and my purple shirt.  I’m thinking, get to the fucking point. So, I say, “Thank you. What do you want? Where are you going with this?”  He replied, “Oh, you’re so direct.” 

(I should point out this dude’s appearance was all-in-all pulled together; he was approximately 25, a little bit hipster and a little bit bohemian. I’m not going to lie, I was diggin’ his style.  He was not homeless, but he was definitely trite. If he was homeless I would have said, “thank you” and put my ear buds back in and he would have respected that.)

Anyways, I just repeated myself, “Where are you going with this?” And then he started telling me about his photography studio (room at his mom’s) and this new “photography study” he’s “embarking upon” that tries to place two “juxtapositions” next to each other.  I know, he didn’t even use the word correctly.  Maybe this line stuns and appeals to his other “subjects”, but I could care less about his new study.  I told you he was trite.  Long story short, he asked me to be one of his “subjects.” And I asked him, “How much are you paying your subjects?”

(A girl must always know her fee and never be flattered out of money.  That would be fucking ridiculous and an insult to all the hardworking hookers that came before us. )

Of course, he started in with his rhetoric about art and expanding people’s minds and how I would be part of this great experiment. Alas, he and I will never be.  The only experiments I do to expand my mind are drug experiments, and I expect the same from others.  I told him, with a smile, ”Your study sounds interesting and your intentions harmless, but I’m not in the mood to negotiate my fee. This is my stop. Good luck with your study.”

Maybe I missed out on a opportunity.  But, I think not.  Maybe I’ll see him again.  Maybe we’ll be friends.

what I’m doing tonight…

I’m tired.  I’m in a pissy mood. I have heartburn.  I feel like a complete waste of a human being. 

I kind of feel like a depressed, angry teenager who’s violently angry at the world. 

So, after I self medicate, remember I told you about that earlier, you’ll likely find me in this position.  And, this is a position I’ll be happy in.  I may be reading a book, watching re-runs of the Golden Girls, or just resting my head in my boyfriends lap while he pets me.  I love to be pet.  I hope everyone reading this (approx. 4 people) has a great evening and thinks about me when they self medicate tonight.

p.s. the pic is from a cool clothing store, http://www.costumedept.com/

It has happened. I’m back to tacos and kittens.

And that’s not a vague or lame expression elevating a hand job into a poetic  slang substitution.

What this means, is that I’m back to killing time with kitty videos and junk food. I plan to only stay in this depressing, unhealthy, grotesque, embarrassing, fulfilling, stirring, thrilling, stimulating stack of a perfect pair.  Think peanut butter and chocolate, think the smell of bleach in a bathroom, cheese and grits (;-) to Ms. A), biscuits and gravy, scissors and glue…classic duos that dare not separate. 

Mr. D is out getting some tacos and fries (another grand pair) from Jack in the Box!!!!  Fuck yeah!  God and Jesus, I love those little paper bags.  Paper bags are the perfect wrapping for fast food. It’s seriously perfect.  All this dirty food talk, makes my world go ’round.

 

 

 

While satisfying the first half of this high, I’ll watch this video http://www.rathergood.com/kitten_war My favorite line is “The agony of a kitten that’s lost its whiskers.”

Yummy. Tacos and Kittens, but never kitten tacos.

Me against the world

Today I’m bitter.  Yesterday I was bitter.

I don’t know why, but I am.  Okay, I do know why.  But I don’t know why I’ve chosen to focus on all these things today. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s  because I’m hungry, maybe it’s because my bi-polar is rearing it’s head again. Either way this is what the professionals call my depressive state.  It will likely clear up (like my adult pimples) in a few days.  Or if I need to clear it up sooner (like my adult pimples) I can use medication. The problem for those around me is that I like my ups and downs.  I like to stay there and revel (or wallow as my mom says) in my missery/anger/bitterness and visa versa my joy/content/gitty.  I’ll even medicate to stay in these place longer. 

So this time, I’m bitter. Like I said, nothing particular happened to put me in a bitter mind set.  But, for me, it doesn’t take something particular or recent to trigger my mood change. In fact, it’s sometimes as simple as a song, a smell, a conversation or worse, nothing at all.  I’m bitter. 

This is a comfortable place for me.  Anger on the other hand is not.  But bitter, lonely, happy, silly, spontaneous, these are all my favorites.  I’ve probably been bitter since I was about seven.  Yes, seven years old. This puts me in 1st grade and that’s when I started misbehaven.  I spent a lot of time in the principle’s office getting “paddled” for my indescretions.  Which, at seven included throwing rocks, pushing people, spitting, running away from my teachers and talking back.  A lot has changed since seven. I don’t throw rocks at people, push people or spit.  I still run away from teachers and other authority figures and I can’t help but talk back. 

Back to my friend, “Bitter”.  My first bitter feelings were towards myself, then my parents, then God, and then the principle of my elementary school…I could go on, but I want to talk about my current bitterness. Today I’m bitter towards my job, my fatness, my family, the family I don’t have…But like I said, I like to revel in my bitter.

To suspend these feeling and maintain my state of mind, I listen to bitter jams while indulging in…let’s call them vitamins.  Some of my fav jams:

“Me Myself I”   Joan Armatrading

“What I Got”   Sublime

“Private Dancer”    Tina Turner

“Wake up Alone”   Amy Winehouse

“Those Three Days”    by Lucinda Williams- if you want to listen, I found a video.  It starts out with a huge weirdo reciting a poem, but hang in there, after about 20 seconds the song begins. 

Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and The Shondrells

“Beast of Burden” The Rolling Stones

And a smattering of sounds from Soundgarden, Bush, some Oasis and some Counting Crows.

p.s. for my gals in honor of our game “How would it be”, Earthworm would have this song playing in the background.  He would be hind you, with his arm around your waist and he would whisper the “yes” that follows “is it alright”  No surprise I found this sound on the soundtrack of The L Word.  You’ll love the cheesey slide show.  That might be playing on a large wall during dinner.  The song is “Alright” by Kinnie Star.

Cindy Crawford and Queer Abs

I was searching for a new workout DVD on Amazon.com and here’s what I learned.

• Cindy Crawford’s workout video from 1993 is their number 1 reviewer rated DVD.  I remember doing this shit, working out with Cindy, in 8th grade.  This was before I started smoking weed morning, noon, and night (yes, even during school) and filling my free time with collages and coloring velvet posters for my friends.  I hadn’t really thought about how quickly I went from one extreme to another… healthy, beauty mag-obsessed, athletic, pretty girl that woke up early to take walks with her mom and friends to a stoned, musician biography reading, lazy, hippy chick that shoplifted all her cloths, avoided her parents for days, and often forgot who’s house she was at. But, back to the Amazon workout DVD discussion

• You can buy DVDs- highly rated I must add- titled: Queer Abs and Hot Nude Yoga: Virgins. I think I would benefit from the Queer Abs, but the Hot Nude Yoga would be way too distracting.

Enjoy my little cherios.

E-mail from my dad!

When my dad writes me love notes he usually steals from his favorite songs.  Every birthday card, every Christmas card, even phone calls, he’ll pull a stanza or two from a song.

His favorite act to pull from is Barry Manilow.  His second is John Denver.  Third is Elton.  I would totally reverse the order, for myself.  But, then I’ve heard enough Barry to last me a few more years.  I would probably swap out Barry with Queen. 

Sometimes its a bit cryptic and I have to work to try and figure out who he’s sampling from. Once, for my birthday (probably 20th or so) he wrote in my b-day card…

We dreamers have our ways
Of facing rainy days
And somehow we survive
We keep the feelings warm

These lyrics are from Barry’s hit, “I made it through the rain” Out of all the many options he could have chosen from this song he chose the above stanza.  The most obvious option would have been the chorus lyrics,

I made it through the rain
I kept my world protected
I made it through the rain
I kept my point of view
I made it through the rain

But no, dad chose the opening stanza.  It makes sense to those who know him.  He’s always thought of himself as a dreamer.  But the last line about keeping our feelings warm…whatevs.

I can’t figure out where he pulled today’s note from.   He wrote,

Yell at the top of your voice from the most highest, I Love You.  If you have time to day think of me.                              Love you most    Dad

Maybe this is an original. Probably not.  Peace out hookers,

-Sweet

Here are two pics of Barry…the first is how I like to remember him, young and pre-surgery.  The second is, I hope, a pic of him smoking a joint.

 

On the bus, Prison escapees

I swear four prison escapees got on my bus today.  They had a big trash bag of cloths they were changing into as they waited for the bus.  They threw the bag away at the rail station and hopped the bus.  They were impatient with the bus driver, asking all kinds of questions about cameras and police.  Then they started to unload their pocket’s contents on the unsuspecting passengers.

Before and after of the prisoners are below…

BEFORE

 

AFTER

Everything in their pockets was crap.  The only interesting thing they had to offer was papers.  Just as they were about to depart, one yelled out, “Does anyone need any papers? Anyone?”

The bus driver took the papers. Peace out.

For when you read the bible or ride the bus.