| uhm... |
[14 Jul 2009|09:51am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 annoyed |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Casiotone for the Painfully Alone |
] |
Am I required to love my grandmother?
If that's the case, where's the pistol?
|
|
|
[12 Jul 2009|04:47pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 content |
] |
Wow. Weird Ex finding me on here since I won't contact him otherwise....CREEPSTER.
Yeah, you can continue to read, JEFF. But please never contact me again. No hard feelings, but you're just somebody that I used to know. I've grown up a lot, and I decided to leave you behind. Can you respect that?
ANYWAY, moving on!
Remember how I mentioned I had a Christina Ricci-like paleness slash wonderfulness? WRONG. As of today, I look moderately ethiopian with a slight tinge of RED. Oh, it's all glamorous and awesomeous...until you see my red ASS line. But I always kind of thought Lucifer was my middle name anyway. Plus! My new bikini is all sorts of awesomeness on me. And if I sound conceited, it's because I am. For once in my low-self-esteemed life, I LOVE my body and being...all of it. This is the result of hard working out and eating right...not the usual eating disordered catastrophy that I always used to fall suspect to...nor drugs.
I want to seeeee the firefighter again, but he's working. I can hardly contain myself. I can't remember feeling THIS excited about just one person...well, since I met Drew on our dorm floor when I was stupid and eighteen. And even if things amount to nothing, I'm fine with that...I have four other guys in the wing. I'm twenty-three, baby. No time to get serious. Not yet, anyway.
Work has been hellish, but fun. There's something to be said about being "needed." Abd with my two dollar raise showing in this week's next paycheck...I.should.be.golden.
but tonight...it's fishing for me.
Woo!
Ciao!
|
|
| The Firefighter. |
[09 Jul 2009|07:13am] |
Fervid. What a very appropriate Word of the Day!
Heated. Glowing. Intensely hot.
THAT would be my night last night! And right when I thought things were getting so stagnant and stale...BAM! The one I never took seriously slips back in...and again...and again...and again. ;)
Who is this mysterious, mystical creature lurking in thin air? This magical man is a firefighter. While I know there to be a certain stigma attached to that profession (womanizers, cheaters, etc), this guy just reeks of awesomeness...times five hundred and ten...plus one orgasm. Can I say I am surprised? We'll see.
Work was (is) beginning to become a burden. I know, I know- work should be a burden, right? Who likes work? But to tell you the truth, I would rather be some bumful crack addict digging up worms just to make a meal...and at least I'd be on crack. But anyways, I finally got my beloved day off (my next one will be stolen by a day at traffic school....kill me) so I went bikini shopping and headed straight to the beach.
The firefighter is an old sex buddy. The thing wih him is that it was never just sex . It was crazy, mind-altering, spontaneous, WONDERFUL, sometimes public sex (church is a notch on our belt). But circumstances, jobs, and people all got in the way. The vision of us was simply turned into an occasional text conversation, and not a whole lot more...until yesterday.
In a nutshell...
Firefighter meets me at the beach. We're clicking and everything is great...I look awesome...he looks awesome...my hair is wonderful...he is ripped. *Note* If you close your eyes while people are playing volleyball...it sounds like they're getting it on. Anyway! So, we leave. Done with the beach after a few hours. Then within an hour, he asks if I want to go to dinner. You see, we never did dinner dates and stuff like that before, so it was strangely nice. Isn't that what every girl wants? To be asked on a dinner date where they know going into it they're not going to eat? sO, He takes us to a cozy Italian place and orders us (in all it's pretentious glory and valor) wine. That's great. He's great. My hair is still looking great through the window reflection. Then! Cutest dinner date ever is followed by a cozy pub and closeness. The chemistry is sparks everywhere all over us and just melting onto the bar seats. We grab some beers, go back to his place, and proceed to have two hours of music ADD merriment. Turns out, we like the same music even though he's markedly older than me. He's 30. I start to grope him...and the rest is fireworks and dodger dog. Just awesome. He wants me to stay the night. Hmm.
Now I'm stuck with those warm and fucking fuzzyshytuzzies. But we'll see how long those last.
I was invited to go limo status with a group on Saturday to a couple shows- Mickey Avalon here in Irvine followed by Rise Against at the Forum. I know I know...GAY. But, look at it my way- VIP, free drinks, all you can do drugs (that I will not partake in), and a fun crowd. I know thier booking agent, and was recently talking with him. A job he offered me is still good (as an asst.). I think I may take him up on the offer just to escape this hellish OC bubble. Word. So! This trip is actually going to be me networking. And I have work at 4:45 AM the next day. Awesome.
Done rambling.
Ciao!
|
|
|
[02 Jul 2009|02:58pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 lethargic |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
CSS |
] |
A vampire. I have established today whilst laundrying that I am (indeed) a vampire. Evidence is as follows...
Exhibit A: I have black hair, and I'm Christina Ricci-like pale...which I like.
Exhibit B: I haven't had sex (while there's no real correlation, I just thought I'd throw that out there).
Exhibit C: I like black (sorry, but I can not say I have jungle fever...unless we're talking about primetime deion...man was everything to me...when i was 9).
Exhibit D: I am SUCH a bitch lately that sometimes I do have the urge to bite people...and things. muah-ha-ha
Exhibit E: I look terribly thin and wonderful.
It's going to be a good day.
So! Last night I had the honors of going out with that poor, afflicted soul that let me go just two weeks prior because I didn't want a relationship. I still don't. Do these people expect me to change into some desperately weak woman who somehow needs them (even though she has a showerhead of her own)??? I don't think so. I'm a player, baby. If you want to stick around, learn that you're never the only one. I mean, I am a Gemini. Come on.
So, anyways! I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I always leave these guys hanging on to feel better about myself. Notice how you're in control when you're the one who likes the other less. He's such a great guy, too. Back to the gemini thing, I need several guys during a particular period. It keeps things interesting, fun, and not boring. I seem to have more respect for the people I never got too serious with. Maybe because a friendship builds over the time you date? Who knows. Who cares. I'm hungover and rambling. But I guess I'm just still in love with my gay ex. Maybe not in love in love, but I love him. No one will ever be him.
So fucking GIRL. AHH!
|
|
| dehydrate yourself, iwo. |
[28 Jun 2009|09:27am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 drained |
] |
Coworker:"So what are you up to Ana?"
Me: "Dehydrating myself."
Dehydration!! Dehydrate yourself. I'm a horrible human being who knows of nothing healthy or medically "right"----->dehydration has been my best friend! And in such a dim and horribly bleak world, seeing those numbers on the scale way down makes me terribly happy (of course, more in that sort of sick, perfectionistic, evil way). But, hey, at least I am not fat.
So! In lieu of "spending intervention" the other day, I've actually done pretty well for myself. My first goal to tackle was cutting out all my spending that was NOT on clothing (i.e. food, bars). Surprisingly, I have managed to save quite a bit of money (enough to buy those jeans I was looking at...PLUS a pair of sandals...haha...jk...I'm not...but I won't buy them...maybe...maybe not...nope...not going to....ok. there). But it's so amazing to really see how all the little things add up. The chai here and salad there literally is half my pay check. Not to mention alcohol! If you go out one night...you're easily spending anywhere between 30 to 100 dollars. And it's just not worth any of it. Needless spending. To think I could have saved all that money for another pair of boots, makeup, or fragrance. UUGHH. So wasteful. Indeed.
but the times they are a changin'.
d-e-h-y-d-r-a-t-e.
|
|
| I'll take the Lorena Bobbit Special, please! |
[23 Jun 2009|11:05pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 amused |
] |
Today is the 23rd? Jeezuuuuus. That's the problem of days off- everything just blends into one giant BLOB of margarita-inspired hangover HELL.
At least I went serious shopping. So all was not in vain. Correcto.
The morning started off with me waking up next to one of the dudes I've been dating (not too interested in anything with him at this juncture). When I roll over, I realize that the lads still asleep. I'm panicing! I'm thinking, "Fuck! I don't want to have sex with him!" So I try to lay there quietly and act like I'm not freaking out inside trying to teletransfuckingport out of this UGH scenario, but he wakes up! The fucker wakes up! I'm dreading the inevitable. I'm sweating. I'm screaming in my mind..aaahhhhhhhhhhhh!! And before I could even think, there he was...on top of me like a fucking monkey with a banana....licking, and peeling, and making weird mm sounds. EW. Every single time he went to kiss me, I laughed and half cringed. It was terrible. I think I said no like 12 times. I could give a fuck about your fucking morning wood. Have you heard of Lorena Bobbit? Fucking get me a knife for this UGHimal.
Yeah, um, Sex when you're not feeling it? Disgusting. My own needs can be met in the shower. I suggest you do the same. Thank you very much.
But anyways. EW.
So! Apparently I have a spending problem. I always have really, but this time a mini "intervention" was staged. I've toned down so much, but, of course the world doesn;t see that. And it's not so much the spending part of it, because my money is my money...it's the obbsession jig a jig of it. The "obsession" concern is something that I can def understand, because I've been wondering about that myself. For instance, I HAD to get this pair of boots. They were just awesome- to the knees, flat, with the buckles, sexy, awesome, orgasmical, sagan wormhole status. I tried them on, but I had spent most of my money earlier that day, so I couldn't get them (had to be semi responsible). So I sold some yay RELIGIOUSLY for a couple days to get these incredibly expensive boots. That whole time, I couldn't eat, think, sleep, masturbate...NOTHING! My friends had to tell me to shut up about these spectaculars, too. I think I even had hot flashes. An addiction they were (see, even yoda knows bout them).
When I finally got them, you could not get them off me. I almost cried eveytime I looked at them. It was magical. It.was.love.
And I wonder why I have no friends. Haha.
Sooo...I'm going to tone it down. Not too down, but down. Quasi-down. Like making out with a treasure trail down.
But, anywam!
Night! Ciao.
|
|
|
[21 Jun 2009|08:57pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 aggravated |
] |
My ex.
THE one.
Ugh. Sooo...Drew's birthday (my GORGEOUS, bisexual, New Yorking ex) was three days prior to mine. Every year, even though we rarely ever talk these days, it's customary that we call one another at midnight of our birthday's. He called me before I called him on his birthday...and the HORRIBLE began. He proclaimed that he missed me, and wanted me to move to New York to be with him. I laughed. I knew it was just another one of this lonely games he plays just to reassure himself that there is at least one other ailing soul out there that actually cares about his snobby, selfish, yet RIDICULOUSLY attractive self.
Three hours later, I fell for it. Fell for it all.
But I should have known that it was just an act. His words were only meant to ensure he had some form of company on his birthday. Quite frankly, if he would have been near a rotting, onion bagel...he would have surely been talking to it instead and trying to put his Jewish lox all over it. But the only thing as pathetic as that, would be me. His lox has been spread. But now all I can feel is the whole that is my bagel-like being. Por qua?
He didn't call me on my birthday.
WHY does he still bother me? It's like he knows exactly what buttons to push to make me his again...even with his ambiguous sexual orientation. HE is the reason I will forever be single. Drew sucked the very life (in terms of love) out of me...and he's STILL sucking...TO THIS DAY (maybe even sucking a penis, too).
Now I'm going to see Away We Go...alone. This.is.my.life.
ciao.
|
|
|
[17 Jun 2009|10:43pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
annoyed |
] |
Things could be worse; I could be 24.
Yesterday was my birthday. That pretty much equalled me realizing how little of friends I do have. I'm not depressed about it, but a light bulb flashed. I fucked up. I was young, naive, crazy, drugged out, and an elitist mess. Here I am today still picking up the pieces, and trying to tell people that I'm not all that scary afterall. But I do find it funny that any other drug is considered "funny" or whatever, but become a coke dealer...and a satanic, judgmental wave crashes down on you. And, really, there is no way to get yourself out of it. People are people. They will always pick and dissect you trying to find just ONE bad thing in your being to make themselves feel better about thier own craptacular, scraping-by lives. But I've always loved to be that black sheep. I've always loved the thrill of people staring at me in curiosity from across the room.
Only it's not as fun this time...because I am really doing nothing wrong. If drinking too much caffiene openly makes me somewhat risque, so be it. I wanted to shock people for so long, that now I want to just freakin' shock them with normalcy. But the truth of the matter is, I am no fun in normalcy. I'm an orgasm-less emobot with a meaningless push and a weak shove.
aaaand this is where shopping enters the equation. Thank gawd. :)
|
|
| Zucchini. |
[15 Jun 2009|03:06pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 crappy |
] |
Captain Bob gave me a zucchini today from some his mystical garden. Slying smiling, he told me it was all natural.
The zucchini itself was rather vulgar looking, and it wasn't just me who thought so (apparently I work with a bunch of freaks). For about 2 minutes, though, I contemplated all the "uses" of such a handy-sized zucchini. I soon realized how pathetic my life become- Produce? Really, Ana? Wow. My life sucks.
The problem is that I let people get to me too much for kosher standards. The guy that I'm "with" (VERY vague term...as I keep saying no to being his gf) doesn't please me enough. The guy that I want...is a two minute UNwonder. If only I could combine them...like the perfect blend of mac, bi-colored blush. One side is this, the other that. Perfect when applied together. Love that. But you always like what you can't have. So I need to learn to stop beating myself up and letting all this get to me. People are not that important. Two minute un-wonder-man is a hedonistic, emo, fasion diva at heart...with no time for something more serious with you...be it an actual relationship...or more meaningful sex on his behalf.
But why can't I just move on?
Well, tomorrow is the B-I-G 2 3!!! WOOOO...not. Poeple always say 27 is the depressed, quarter-life crisis age (although! I really hope it's MIDlife for me...i never want to grow to see the elderly through thier withering away eyes)...but 23 is hitting me hard. It doesn't even sound good at all. It just comes off as old and unimportant. Twenty-three? Ugh.
Open mic is tonight, and I'm thinking about playing. Ukulele...meets DEATH metal. Can't wait. It's a new genre entitled GO FUCK YOURSELF. Spike my chai. It's going to be a long, blissful evening.
Old and senile already. Jeezus.
|
|
| walking on this antful blvd. |
[11 Jun 2009|03:43pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 pessimistic |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
cut copy |
] |
Redivious.
Man, it's been almost a year since I last updated. What's funny is that in times of self-inner-turmoil, I find myself closing off from the world thinking how much I want to be alone...but then I write on here for all the world to see. Goes to show that I never entirely shut down. I still want your attention.
How goes it in this cave? It's dark, but fashion fabulous, I can assure you. It's girthy, but nothing lasting. It's dramatic, but more in that Woody Allen sort of sarcastic, doomed way. Who am I kidding? It's really all not that bad, but it would certainly be better if I had Annie's VW Bug or a playmate like Alvy. But! I am not his 19 year old adopted daughter, and I need to stop living in these monstrously great movies, because it doesn't even make sense to me...how should it to you?
I've found that I am nowhere in life where I thought I once might be by the time I reached 23 (which I turn next week...so unless things change pronto or I find a Stargate to Somewhere...I'm screwed). Without music in my life (playing), I am like an ant without it's sugar cube. I serve no purpose but to merely be stepped on. Currently I am feeling like I'm following that line of other plebeian-like ants (to the fridge mostly...but never sacrificing my wonderful body)...here I am just doing "the do." I'm walking along with no real goals in sight, and no real excitment. Conformity. Ugh. I always said I would once hate myself if I ever did JUST what I had to do to get by; if I turned into everyone else. What happened to dream-searching-soul-finding-orgasms-with-strangers-whilst-travelling-anywhere-and-everywhere Ana? What happened to fun Ana who never settled down...EVER??? I hate what I have become. What have I become?
Old.
I'm bored, not on drugs, not in a lustful relationship, and not anything that I always have been. I have lost me to fucking growing pains, and now it's all too painful. The only poor, pathetic thing to compare myself to is that 43 year old, BOHEMIAN, cat lady who does nothing but work and sleep...and work and sleep...and work and sleep. I've actually been so depressed by my own, stupid boredom that I DO actually sleep! I don't even feel the urge to wake up and pleasure myself anymore. Whhaatt??
Even the orgasms suck.
Fuck you, showerhead. You have failed me and my old, withering-away clitoris. You fuckin' asshole fuck face.
So! Cheers to us! Stay alive.
|
|
| Long time... |
[23 Jun 2008|11:51pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
annoyed |
] |
One JOUSTING battle via text message, $200 spent on retail therapy sesh, a slice of pizza, and two helpings of chocolate truffle ice cream later (a flavor, btw, which will replace masturbation and surely cure all forms of cancer) I am nowhere closer to understanding the male species, and somehow just....give up. I surrender to this ever-changing and fucked-up breed. Thank gawd for my showerhead...the day would have been unbearable without it!
Somehow I stumbled into what exactly it is I need (and every couple for that matter)- SPACE, ALONE TIME, "thought-provoking" silence, time to masturbate (if nothing else). Is it SUCH an abominable thing to truly seek a capacious relationship (word of the day, folks)? And is the reason I seek such a "roomy" alliance, because I secretly (even secretly to my own self) hold out for my bi-curious-completely-cultured-jewish-and-wonderfully-handsome former flame?? Sometimes the key to understanding someone else has to come from within- ie understanding yourself.
I can't even battle the feather stems from my pillow successfully.
My reltionaship with my current boyfriend has been...challenging. With him hacking into my accounts, feverishly reviewing my phone bills (he's my Verizon guy), and crossing every line I ever said any guy could cross without me leaving...he's crossed...WITH FLARE. I'm dciscouraged by his hard-headed manner, and only in the wake of losing me has he finally realized what his whole part was in this "deterioration stage." Now he begs forgiveness, but is it just an act? Is it just a possessive act meant only to blind me? What makes him so special that he deserves anymore energy or effort. Never change for anyone, because it will just eat away at you. You are who you are (or what you eat). I'd rather be a giant, greasy, cannibalistic french fry than this "adapting-for-him" female mongreless I've become. Ughhhh. Some words of empowerment would be greatly appreciated.
I saw mentioned former flame on Friday. It was nice and pleasant. He drove all the way down to see me. With gas prices these days...Jewish guys just don't do that. He was well-dressed, well-spoken, and down for romance. I couldn't cheat on my boyfriend, and even so, I just wasn't feeling anything affectionate. I sensed a lonely, young, recent grad with too much time, money, and thoughts mulling over in his head. If he really wanted me after he saw me, he could have said something, He's always had that option (not saying he did this time). How come after a year or so of me trying to find other men and move on, him telling me he met someone really "amazing" and has moved on, A CHICK...how come it hit that spot. That spot that presses the toilet flusher and flushes everything out of your face, and gives you this weird feeling in your chest making your leg shake? and his shortness bothered me?? I suppose I always imagined him ending up with a man, and the mere fact that I would have been his last girl, well, made me smile. Weird.
I leave for Chicago on Wednesday. It will be half a day of travelling and sleeping just to arrive in the windy city just in time for...sleep. Surely Xanax will saturate my entire being, and everything will be fine. The last thing I need is someone smelly next to me or to have Bringing Down the House ruining my already horrific flight.
Right now I will Scrabble myself until my eyes BLEED little, wooden blocks, and work on my failing relationship with my Ukranian boyfriend, Ruslan. Life right now is a bird in a cage, but on Wednesday I'll get to fly...for a little while, anyway.
blahblahing xoxo
|
|
| Gnats, Love, and Service. |
[23 Feb 2008|09:52pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 tired |
] |
Somehow in the busy and lustful life that is Ana, I had forgotten all about my "live"jounal. Actually it was due to a somewhat scattered brain and the incessant need to "keep moving." "Here I am, baby. Come and take me..."
The minutes that constituted the day (and much of the evening, thus far, for that matter) looked similar to something along the lines of SWARMS of pestering and tormenting gnats that filled the silence by scrathing thier dirty little claws (because the gnats in my mind have thousands of giant and hairy ones) on imaginery gnat chalk boards in a Whoopie Goldberg-esque sort of fashion that kinda made me feel the way I did when I heard HOT CHIP on fucking K-sellout-ROQ. Like licking a battery. I COULD potentially go on and on and on forever, it seems, about gnats, thier anatomy, and Sister Act, too (or "two?"), but it's a cause in vain that wouldn't make any sense to those without my mind.
Speaking of UB40...my boyfriend's ringtone is such that song- an appropriate one at that. While I'm fairly convinced he's of the "alternate" lifestyle aka gay and that no matter what I do or wear (even nothing at times) he still won't fuck me (the two times he did were astronomical, though), I can't help but press on with this boy. Our conversations start out with me sharing a little something from The New Yorker and end in him nodding his head as he lights a joint or changes the subject alltogether about "This one time I [him] was little..." Maybe we don't connect on so many levels, but have you ever been with someone because they were just so dayam STRANGE?? Where everything they do puzzles you, but in an extremely cute way that makes you smile proudly at them?? He's funny, and compliacted. Girls never opt for the easy road. They take the windy street named "Bi-polar-ass-wipe" Express and choose the men they know will drive them nuts and off the wall...Michael Jackson style. I sit here fuckin' RAWR, wondering "WHAT THE HELL??!!"
I'm hopeless, sappy, and totally lourve John Cusack...and gay people for that matter. THAT is my excuse.
Now. On a completely random note slash more of a rant and definitly not post-it appropriate...
Customer Service.
I've never really had such terrible and gawd-awful customer service experience until a couple weeks ago. The incident has left me so infuriated...I could literally shyt a fucking 9mm bullet and have it go thru the skulls of the wench who calls herself a "good employee." This wench aka female mongreless aka Nordstrom's Bobbie Brown rep needs to seriously be "kalima-ed." If Indiana Jones Kalima doesn;t cut the proper imagery for you being an older and much softer movie let's try...DEATH ON A STICK...or soon to be.
Incident goes as follows...
There are TWO Bobbie Brown counters in this particular Nordstroms, this one being at South Coast Plaza. I go in to buy my fav. lipglass (whatever the fuck it's called..gloss works fine by me) and the gay guy tells me it's discontinued, but gives me the last, lonely one that's been sitting a drawer almost to be long forgotten. I'm stoked and writhing and horny by the time this is placed in my hands- "WHERE'S MY SHOWERHEAD??!!!" The dude tells me to go to the back counter to pay for it, because he didn't have a register and was doing someone's face. "Fine." I go back there with my money out and happily walking to the beat of...some really happy song. This GIRL who's younger than me tells me I CAN'T buy it and that it's a tester. "HOW CAN YOU FUCKING HAVE A TESTER FOR SOMETHING THAT'S DISCONTINUED????" I start making a fuss and and walk off saying "Oh, fuck you." My brother happened to be with me and was convinced I needed some rage "intervention," but, honestly, how was she about to tell me it was a tester??? How can you put something out that's discontinued and NO LONGER MADE???!!!
"NO RESPECT."
Customer Service is exactly that- CUSTOMER service. NOWHERE in the "script" does it tell the employee to be a hoebag and not make any sense. Nordstrom's, after writing, has been offering me all these incentives and deals or whatever. The only incentive I want is my foot shoved clear up that girl's fat ass. By fat I mean MUFFINTOP, and you can't take a "mufftintop" seriously. C'mon.
So maybe I am a "bitch" (even though I don't really like that term unless under dire circumstances), but at least I tell it like it is.
In the meantime...
gay guys and a friend's show in one hour. "WOOT!"
|
|
| Try the polish dog sandwich thingum. |
[24 Sep 2007|11:26pm] |
|
Girl with the sex-ray eyes.
What happened to THOSE eyes I used to have? It's like my eyes went from some crazy, tyedye color....to SHITbrown natural like they are. Anything remotely sexual just doesn't grab me. Of course I haven't had a transexual give me a lap dance, so you never know. At first I thought I had desensitized myself (like you wanted to hear that haha) but then I realized....GUYS JUST SUCK. Men are about as E-R-O-T-I-C as the sight of an ant climbing on my kitchen sink is. AND who uses the line "Wanna hook up?" SERIOUSLY. If you're gunna do it...just do it. Don't ask and look completely the opposite of sexually desirable. It's like "THANK YOU, MISTER BEAN." Ugh. I've gotta a bone to pick and it's difinitely NOT in the form of pen15.
I have an interview AND drug test simultaneously. So while I am peeing in a cup the lady will ask me questions like "WHO'S YOUR MOMMA NOW, BIOTCH?" ...........NOT. I meant really that I will have an interview followed then by the classic piss test. Interviews can be fun, but lately I haven't been in the "let's-charm-the-whole-world" spirit. I'd rather just lay in bed battling the feather stems from my pillow that poke my face. I do need a job. I need a place to channel in al this energy..or lack of.
WIENERSHNITZEL is the greatest place EVER to eat!!!!!! Get this...they don't actually carry wienerschnitzels on the menu. Tres bizarre but daaammmnn those fries are good. TRUST ME.
Heres to another sleeples night.
"I'm outtie!!!" gawd bless Clueless.
|
|
|
[22 Sep 2007|02:33am] |
I'm drunk off of Budweiser...CLAMATO...?!!!!??????!!!!
GOOD GAWD, what is this world coming to??
|
|
| Ailing. |
[20 Sep 2007|08:26am] |
|
I am haggard, weak, thin, and worn-out.
Somebody please snap me out of this blue haze I seem to have gotten lost in. It's not me at all.
|
|
| Rule #1...NEVER MENTION LANCE BASS. |
[19 Sep 2007|02:48pm] |
|
"The dude" (aka BLIND fucking date) was like "I'm a singer slash songwriter, and I'm metro and used to work for Lance Bass." He just shoulda stopped at Lance Bass, because I knew this was not going to go anywhere. Anyone who BRAGS about a Lance Bass connection...must be mad. Lance Bass represents gay men and GAY men. For me, it just doesn't do it. Later he would tell me how beautiful I am and how alllll the girls wearing skanky clothes and practically no shirts...didn't matter. Right then I KNEW he was a B.Ser. I intentionally went looking overly modest and awful. I didn't want it to work out at all. I needed someone to drink with, and what better than this poor, hideous lad I was set up with thru a friend...?
Recently, I've sorta been in a dumpy, diaper mood. There's a common theme of uneasiness and lack of motivation. I'm like...the yeast that won't rise. The pez that won't dspense. I am a stuck pez in a Frankenstein dispenser...hmmm....
Pez sounds just about the most delcious thing ever to have right now.
Point...I am unamazed by my life thus far. WOW me, life. You have one chance.
Cheers!
|
|
| This world is full of shyty couples. |
[17 Sep 2007|09:36pm] |
|
This world laughs at singles. Remind me WHY I'm the one who had to leave the spa when a couple entered??? It was the socially acceptable CRAPPY shytfilled thing to do...to leave, but they wouldn't stop glaring at me. It's like thier eyes shot out lazers of doom, and they hurt. It's not my fault I have a bigger rack than you, young girl, that your bf wouldn't stop staring at. It's not my fault! I know you two needed "alone time" but FUCK. I am single and need alone time, too. What if I wanted to freakin jack off with the asistance of the jets? You mothercrappershitheads.
I need to orgasm.
THE END.
|
|
| Fellow LJers... |
[16 Sep 2007|10:35pm] |
|
The point...
Who really knows what cards Tomorrow will deal you. Who cares what guy fucks you over or whether or not you're in lourve and/or pain. Just do your gawd dayamed Geology homework and go to school tomorrow. That's one thing you have control over- YOUR LIFE.
Do what YOU need to do to get ahead in life...then things will follow.
|
|
| New hook. New book. |
[14 Sep 2007|09:14am] |
|
There are FIVE things I already lourve the crap out of today...
1. Across the Universe. You never know.
2. HONEYCUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GawdI fucking wanna just "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh" all over thier music
3. American Pastoral *SPECIAL EDITION* came in yesterday's mail, but finally UNlazied myself to walk the 5 feet to the mail box to get it.
4. A new hook.
5. MONTEREY MUSIC SUMMIT with Cake (an old time fav of mine). Every music festival go to I always get too
"out of it" to really enjoy or even remember the music. I sway and remember swaying...but nothing past that. This time...I will make it all count and live out my Sparks addiction whilst being there AND THAT'S IT. Of I coure I'm saying that now....
|
|
| "You look familiar..." |
[13 Sep 2007|01:29am] |
|
Pinback at Amoeba tonight....was okay. I literally had to drag my mind there the whole time whilst driving. If there had been one SPRITZ of traffic I think I would have run myself into the guard rail, just to not put up with any of it at all. Amoeba is a sick and horrid place of wonderment and amusement. Suposedly it's cheaper, but when you're at the check out and the grand total comes out you're like "waaaait a minute!" and then it all adds up...the Presrvation Jazz cd, the old Miles disc with some of his best from the mid 60's, a picture or two or three, Whitest Boy Alive, this and that and anything else that looked interesting. Was it just me, or were there 43738888300023 more workers than actual customers? Was that a bouncer at the door?
Exhibit 5000 on why I lourve Amoeba.
and on with it.....
Bell Hooks is the unibomber at heart. What was the movie that mentioned the unibomber? MEH, I don't remmber, but me remembering would have no great significance in this world so I will not be googling it. I don't like Bell Hooks...that's my only point. So many people slash women slash man-bashing-weirdos say she is the ALL KNOWING messiah, so to speak. her words in ink read and heard aloud speak louder than a mother telling her newborn to "GET A JOB AND FUCK OFF." While she tries to make it seem that she believes feminism is about ending sexism and racial inequality I couldn't help but feel...how much she hated men. What guy did her wrong, I wonder. jk. Seriously, guys. This whole feminism topic makes me itchy. It would be easy to say I'm not a feminist (i'm a male-ist too.they do have dicks afterall), but I guess if you're a female you shouold be a feminist. Of course. Individualist feminist? Maybe that's what am.
My only real qualm (no it's isn't, bumkinface) with feminism is women in bed. What's so wrong with being submissive? Sometimes it's just easier to let the guy do the work, ya know? I see nothing wrong with laying back and doing nothing. It's actually fun....so wouldn't that be positive? The guys doing all the " real domestic work?"
I just don't know.
I'm still pretty down. For a girl who never let sily boys get to her...this one sure did. I'm not heartbroken...just pissed. It was hard deciding that, though. It's easy to feel heartbroken and lonely, but when you step back...was it realy the real deal? NO. It wasn't. It was fun for a while. Flying across the US was fun and exciting, but we were both two very lonely people.
Over it. So fast.
Anthony said I looked thin tonight. Thank you, Jesus. Yes...I obbsess about my weight like many girls do...and there's nothing wrong with that.
I sit here..asexual. Life is a strange one. I'm numb, but okay.
Cheers!!!!
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
oliverpeoples's journal