today i was writing a new poem for my class. it is a prose poem about my grandfather, whom i love absolutely so much and think i owe at least 80% of the good parts about me to. he has alzheimers and has to live in a home now, which i never visit. i beat myself up about this on almost a daily basis, but it’s so hard for me… i know that sounds so selfish. i can’t even say… i know. the thing is i can’t even think or write about it without breaking down. now, as we all know i break down easily, and a lot, but this is the most real and complex situation in my life… the most painful, so painful i can’t even stand it and i’d rather hide from it. he does not remember me. i owe my life to him, and he does not know me. it’s so unfair, i could die. when i was little i always planned that i would kill myself when my Poppo died, knew that i would die too if he ever left me. what to make of this then? what the fuck do i make of this disease that has stolen him from all of us, too fucking soon? i know he’s not gone, but it’s so hard to see him. i just found this old picture in my camera. i took it at my cousin’s 21st bday party, when my grandpa would get confused, but he still knew me. i remember thinking if he was on friendster (hahaha, friendster!) that this would be his pic. it’s so emo-boy. he is gorgeous.
Archive for January 9, 2007
i love him, absolutely
rule #2
this one is for the ladies and the men who carry a murse, or man purse.
always carry a bag at least large enough to hold a small bottle of liquor or a flask. i personally think it should at least be large enough to steal a cheap bottle of wine from an art show, but use your own discretion. i know tiny-ass bags come in and out of style and are often preferred for evening, but i think that’s crap. if i go out to a bar or club on a chilly night, and the dj decides to break down some fitty cent or something like that, i need to have a purse with me that is large enough to stuff my jacket and scarf inside so that i can shout “shut up, no he DIDN’T play this!” and shake my ass free from such cumbersome clothings.
mixed blessings
i have like, seven posts backlogged in my mind because i haven’t had the internet for sooo long! i’m going nuts! i swear i will update regularly soon, as soon as i figure out what the fuck to do with myself.
i pretty much live by mixed blessings. i live for other people making decisions for me because i am no good at making them myself, but these last few weeks have been a little too much for me….
it all started with a minor minor indiscretion that occurred between myself and someone i considered a friend. because of this small little thing and the way things have gone down afterwards, i am forced to realize that they were never overly interested in being my friend, despite previous efforts on their part. this irks me on so many levels, being that i have been told i am too trusting, but have always thought i am a pretty good judge of character. if the last year has taught me anything, it is that i am a shit judge of character and should never let my guard down or believe anyone when they tell me they think i am amazing and want to be my friend. oh, the heartwarming lessons life brings.
on another level this bothers me because in spite of my rock-bottom sell-esteem, i have a VERY hard time understanding why anyone who spends any large amount of time with me would not want to be my best friend forevereverver. i have spent practically my whole life shaping myself into a near-perfect friend, and although no one is perfect, i am at least wicked entertaining and seriously loyal. true blue, what you see is what you get, the real thing. maybe not cool in the sense that i always know where the next party is, or love to have vapid conversations about… god, what do cool hipster people even talk about? well, when you find out, let me know, and hopefully it was worth it.
BUT OH, IT GETS BETTER!
friday morning i woke up super early before work, put on my best dress, and headed outside to hose down my car Timothee, who seems to be the natural enemy of birds everywhere. when i turned the doorknob to go back inside… oh yeah, totally locked! our door has a wrought-iron security door but the inner door is made up of little glass panes through which i could see my purse, keys, and cellphone chilling on the couch only feet away. awesome. long story short none of my neighbors would help me so i used a shovel to break one of the glass panes so i could get to work somewhat on time only to find…
the manager is like, “oh now that we have hired Lupe the new housekeeper (mind you, my job is not as a house keeper, at least not officially) your hours have been cut down significantly.” me: “okay, cool.” him: “no, i mean, like we only have you on the schedule tuesdays and every other sunday now.”
WTF! okay, yes, i am over this job and yes, i have been looking for a new job, but i never expected them to (and in fact, was always promised they wouldn’t) force me to give my two weeks, which i have done. twice this year i have turned down jobs that wanted me to start right away because i didn’t want to fuck over my co-workers, and now this, mixed blessing number three. i can’t be upset because i really want to leave on a good note, and i really love most of these people and consider them friends, but i guess my feelings are kind of hurt, and if i don’t find a job in ONE WEEK, the plans i have had for months are totally completely utterly fucked to hell.
and you guys, don’t blame Lupe for this. seriously.
on that note, here’s my impression of what would happen if the eastside hipsters and gangsters united as one:
i call this new look barrio-boho and it’s pretty much my new 24/7.
face
so for the last week life has been just whapping me in the face, like a great big dickslap from god. but i am okay. it’s true. the official consensus (from one person) is that my new poem is good, the best of mine they have ever read, and i am a genius. i am not one to argue… about me being amazing. except to myself, and everyone else. but when it really counts, like, right now, i can almost believe it. yeah, i’m good stuff. totally good. wait, what were we talking about? oh yeah, totally use bumble and bumble sunday shampoo. it washes all the weekly ickies away, and makes you feel so so so clean.
bangs, banging, and the black raven of death
super excited about america ferrera winning a golden globe. since i have finally gotten a chance to watch ugly betty thursday nights i have become obsessed! that show is SO GOOD! last week i decided i kinda look a little like her, but then i saw her all glammed up, as in this pic, and i realized she is way cuter than me. still, it is nice to see someone who looks normal on t.v. i know everyone says that, but it’s true. nuts to that anyway, she gives a great interview. i saw her on conan and she was so cute. plus she had me and everyone at the globes crying so go america!
there is a disturbing amount of bad bangs on t.v. right now. we noticed this last night (oh, we is jaime, des, and i, future team pomeroy, the pom poms, GFHQ) while watching the L Word. oh my god, we all know the Hard Nipple budget is always bigger than the Good Hair budget, but this year they seem to have fired the entire Nice Bangs! Department. anyway, the golden globes were no exception. worst bangs of the night go to charlie sheen, who looks a little like if ivana trump were brunette and a dyke. OMG, and best speech goes to the director of “babel” alejandro gonzalez innarritu (there are like, a hundred accents in that name i don’t know how to type) who made a joke to the governor that he had his papers in order. heh.
so i know my posts are boring without pics. i just blew the dust off my old digital camera and am totally going to start taking pics. it’s hard for me to be the one with a camera because i am usually the drunk person who is going to regret the pics on other people’s cameras in the morning. which brings us to the fact that lately i have been staying in, just because i feel like it, and i was thinking “this is great! i can devote time to my blog!” but then i realized there are only so many things i can report from my bedroom.
what i can tell you is that i got two, yes two vibrators as xmas gifts. one of them was this white elephant party gift, but i SO hid it so no one could steal it from me, hahaha. well, it was that or things like flavored nipple cream, a giant squeaking penis hammer, or those giant sex dice. i had to get the one thing i can actually use right now. sad. 
that is not to say i am not having sex right now. cause i so am. i sooo am. sick, kinky sex. yeah, like, total filthy raunch.
ugh, so i am freaking out trying to write this first poem for my class. i have a lot of older work i would love to re-work and workshop, but our teacher wants us to write stuff we have “never written before” literally and otherwise. i think i might always write about the same thing (um, the squawking black death raven in my soul, DUH!) so this is going to really challenge me.
the one i am writing now, i like it, but it is a little weak. my poetic voice is weak okay, man? i need some chloraseptic for my creativity! i need to be alone… leave me alone. no, get out of my room, now. i only need me. i only need me!
/end scene
rule #1
if you are anything like me, you have the pleasure of getting your ass grabbed or smacked pretty much on the constant. because of this, i have learned that when in public, one should always keep their buttocks in a state of demi-clench. if you let it all hang out, chances are someone is going to grab a big handful of flab (this is not true of myself, mind you, as i have a unnaturally firm ass. seriously.) and that would not be hot. conversely, if you walk around all the time with your behind cleched tightly and someone tries to give you a playful tap, not only might they minorly injure their hand, but they will think you are some kind of uptight freak. so just do halfsies! you won’t be sorry.
expensive perfume and the erotic bruise
this christmas was good to me. i got a ginormo bottle of my official signature scent miss dior cherie and the luxury body creme. which, in case you were wondering, is better than the body lotion, according to my roomate nicole, because it has a higher concentration of the perfume oil. wow, that is like the gayest fact ever. she is even faggier than i am! the perfume isn’t ridiculously expensive for someone who makes any money, but you are not talking to that kind of person. i specifically got a credit card to buy my first bottle of it, because this shit smells amazing! i get compliments every time i wear it, mostly from men, but whatever. apparently butch lesbians do not appreciate fine fragrances. that’s cool ladies, but really, don’t i tell you when i really like how you smell of cigarettes and Dial soap? it’s nice to be noticed, just sayin’. so anyway, now that i have two bottles i am going to wear it more because it’s my signature scent and money is no object perfume goes bad. yikes, but i have so many fragrances to choose from! for a while i curbed my makeup addiction with perfume, you know, like retail methadone, but then i had another problem on my hands.
someone once told me that you aren’t supposed to spray perfume on your wrist then rub it against the other or against your neck like mom (and soap operas) always taught you. it “bruises” the fragrance. i don’t know what that means, but imagine my delight when i went to spray my miss cherie one 
morning last week and saw this bruise. i love briuses, always have. there is something tough and sexy about them, and trashy. this one looks like i have been up to something very naughty. i guess this all sounds kind of wrong cause that bruise also looks like i may be a battered woman, but everyone has their kinks. truth be told i have no idea how i get most of my bruises. they just appear and i can enjoy them for a while until they disappear, so quickly.
there was one time i had this bruise that took forever to go away. it was after a night of partying years ago, when i used to work at the theatre. we were hanging out there one night drinking and there was this weird old guy who was a friend of someone who wasn’t even there. i was nineteen and fairly wide-eyed, even if i didn’t know it. after a while this guy started following me around. i had always been a bit of a masochist, and i guess he heard me bragging to john and christine about how i was into pain, kid stuff, but i thought i was tough. there’s a bunch of weird shit in between, but basically he tried to molest me in the basement right in front of those other two. i just sat there as he put his hand up my thigh. i have an uncanny ability to leave my body when things get scary or interesting, allowing me to never fully experience pain or joy. it rules.
i just kind of went away from myself during the whole time. he didn’t do much other than cop a feel in the basement, but then he followed me into the bathroom. he cornered me coming out of the stall and got in my face, asking me, did i like it rough. i was mostly numb. i was standing there, watching myself, wondering what was going to hapen next, when he punched me square in the jaw, snapping me back into reality. i don’t remember much after that, reality bores me.
point is, i spent the next few weeks with a bruise and what felt like a ping pong ball on the left side of my jaw. it didn’t hurt, it just itched. it was like, itchy and i wanted to rip my skin off. i was upset because i got myself into such a stupid situation, upset because i could barely remember it even though i wasn’t even that drunk, but mostly i was upset because in that moment, i wasn’t all that scared, and that was really scary.
fabulous
if you ask me, being fabulous is simple. all you need to do is dress like a granny, dance like a stripper, smell like a $90 Jamba Juice, and keep yourself neatly waxed “down there”. but i may be biased.
rules of enragement
a few things:
i hope the meaning of the title of this blog is easy enough to figure out.
i was going to subtitle it “hideously disfigured since 1981″ but then i felt guilty, b/c some people really are, moreso than i 
i don’t like capital letters much, so i don’t really use them unless it strikes my fancy.
no one is reading this yet, but if anyone ever does, i really would appreciate comments.
if you are easily offended, stop reading now. i am opinionated and overly dramatic 90% of the time. but not in real life, LOL!
if you don’t like makeup, perfume, and grooming etc., you will most likely still enjoy my stories. and please don’t hate on me for liking these things. B.O. and a ginormo 70s bush do not make you more intelligent than i, sorry.
i love my family and friends more than anything. closely followed by complaining and lipgloss. who knew?
i am the queen of T.M.I.
mom, that means “too much information.” and maybe you shouldn’t be reading this.
just fyi, “poetry” is not synonymous with “bad poetry” folks, but don’t worry, i am not planning on posting any of mine here, really. unless you are one of the many people that consider each one of my words sweet sweet poetry… wait, hello?
my favorite person on earth is my grandpa. he doesn’t remember me anymore, but i love him.
sometimes i can be mean. usually i try to do so artfully, but if i hurt anyone’s feelings, i am sorry.
i am working on gossiping less, and talking about myself less, and being less dramatic. um, but not on this blog.
90% of my wardrobe is second hand.
my sexual identity is somewhat ambiguous. suggestions welcomed!
i am highly critical of myself and others, which can be good and bad, but is never sexy. oh well.
i really like lists and i make them frequently.
well, that’s all for now. i am still working on some graphics for this site and figuring out some of the tricks. i am not a computer genius. pero, genius in general, si.
anal mex
if i could sum up my day today in two words, they would probably be “anal sex.”
but that is neither here nor there. i also went to the movies today and saw “Children of Men.” it was really good. i cried a lot. granted i am a little emotional right now (read: always), but still, moving, oh so moving. p.s. i used to think julianne moore was gross, but in recent years i have realized that she is wicked crazy hot. and i don’t usually go for the redhead and freckles thing. she seems to have gotten sexy 
with age and she is funny and smart in interviews. i think what i love is her nose. and her mouth. and boobs.
this weekend was fun. oh wait, by “weekend” i mean weekend for normal people because i had to work saturday AND sunday. but anyway friday night we went to the ever-fagular Akbar. i met emily, nicki, kristina, and dvin there and then some other friends showed up for noelle’s birthday. i hadn’t seen those ladies in a really long time, so obviously i was in a great mood. even though i was driving and couldn’t drink that much, which usually puts me in a bad mood. turned out two drinks were plenty for a night of dancing and debauchery. ah, the half-lez life. so unpredictable!
dancing with gay men is pretty much my favorite thing. i love the way they all ignore me as i lust and long for their sweet attention, until suddenly i bust a move so enticing that it catches the eye of that one special guy. he promply says “hey girl!” and proceeds to molest me. nine times out of ten he is latino. then my night is complete. i love l.a.
and as long as we are on the subject of l.a. and latinos, let me just say, as much as i am going to miss my house, my roomates, and echo lake, i am seriously really looking forward to getting the hell out of echo park for a while. how sad is it that i live here and i feel like i haven’t seen a mexican in months. whenever i see an actual latino in my neighborhood, i seriously have to hold myself back from breaking into a crazed smile and wave. it’s not that i don’t like white people, or even hipsters. to the contary, my friends, both can be quite enjoyable, but i didn’t sign up for this. i like diversity! i feel like the echo park/silverlake area is like a college campus of some crazy art school or something. when (i mean, if, if!) i leave my “dorm” at two in the morning to get some doritos and a diet coke at 7-11, i don’t want to be stared down by one of my “classmates” from “Spaceland 101: Views on Modern Society from the Shaggy Bangs Perspective.” fuuuck that! worse still, it’s been even longer since i have seen any black people who aren’t me, and i’m only possibly black, and in that case, only about 1/8. SO SAD RIGHT!!?!?
so obviously i am looking forward to moving to my mom’s for one month (feb) where latinos and blacks and whites frolic together in harmony! seriously, at every family event. we are very 2007. someone better get on the asian tip soon though. and i am looking forward to moving into jaime’s, which is in the heart of east l.a. something new. so excited about the future. i mean, i am always excited about the future, but usually i am making up crazy scenarios in my mind. this time is different because i don’t have to make that shit up. it’s really happening, and i am making it happen. weird.
i start my poetry class at UCLA tomorrow. the lady on the phone when i registered ended the conversation by saying “GO BRUINS!” and i didn’t have the heart to tell her i am technically part of a USC Trojan family. oh well, go bruins, for the next ten weeks, anyway. yay!