always pose for unknown camera persons if they are even remotely well-dressed. this rule only applies to you if you are anything like me and enjoy seeing pictures of you and your friends being featured prominently on people’s photography websites . haha! click on the picture that says "hang the motherfucking dj" (which is a hilariously out of context picture of amy). there you will spot your favorite failure princess and many of her drunken cohorts, including jaime and her band traeh, amy, tina, lauren, rosalina, sujey, sophie, nugget, ajai and her LA earring, and the kitten. plus a bunch of other people i simply don’t know. i don’t know too much about this girl or her site, and am generally uncertain about this type of website/"art" genre, but since i find anything to do with me at least somewhat interesting, i have decided to link it here. enjoy.
Archive for May 14, 2007
fashion, fags, and full lips
i decided that since this is a holiday weekend i could take some time off and not write anything. the trouble is i am grumpy and restless, which makes me want to write. that, and after friday night at akbar i have decided that i am boycotting holiday weekends from this day forward.
we all know going out on the weekends in l.a. is risky biz because of the hideous weekend warriors, but akbar has come to be my solace from that. pretty much the same people go there every weekend, they are all gay, and i am usually too wasted and dancing with my friends so i don’t care anyway. but my god, my god, friday night was a cruel, eye-opening journey into the reality of most bars on any given weekend… in the valley. i don’t know what was going on, but everyone except our group looked terrible. there were more straight people there than ever and none of them looked like they were from anywhere around here. there were girls in ill-fitting, light wash flared jeans, printed tunics, and bad highlights as far as the eye could see. i even spied a crocheted shawl in the crowd. all that and i was SOBER. it was all i could do to keep from openly weeping on the dance floor. never again, i swear.
okay, just for the sensitive folks, i want to make it clear that i have nothing against straight people. i’m just saying that when i go to a gay (man) bar, i expect to be surrounded by well-dressed fags, a smattering of hags, and a handful or two of lesbians. on that note, the gspot (gauntlet/eagle) wednesday girl nights are seemingly in danger of being overrun by men. this is irritating, and borderline offensive. those guys get that bar all week, why do they have to show up on our night, hog both restrooms, and touch us inappropriately thinking it’s okay because they are gay? gross. i don’t know who to complain to, but i am going to complain.
as i mentioned earlier, i am extremely on edge right now. i feel like this has mostly to do with the fact that i hate my shitty job, am exhausted all the time, have no money to pay my rent, and… well, there is some other stuff.
BUT, the good news is, i have good news. i am holding off on reporting it until i can get all the facts straight, but let me just tell you, things are looking up.
i just wish i could have a bunch of money RIGHT now. it makes me sad that i am still going to have to wait god knows how long before i can afford plastic surgery. omg, i just spent, like, an hour online researching procedures. i think my last few scraps of self-acceptance have finally melted away. at this point pretty much the only surgery i don’t want is labiaplasty. this makes no sense to me. i have researched it a bit and am still so skeptical. the link i posted has a bunch of before and after pics, but they just aren’t very convincing. only a few of the women look even remotely abnormal, if one can say that at all. the website says some women have to get it because their large labia minora interfere with sexual intercourse… okay, fine, maybe. but it also says they can interfere with the comfort of wearing tight pants. the simple solution to that, if you ask me, is this wonderful, magic helper we like to call underpants. the main point that particular website seems to be driving home, though, is the utter EMBARRASSMENT of large or uneven labia minora or large labia majora.
look people, i am going to be straight with you right here and now, i have “healthy” sized labia majora and uneven labia minora and i have no problem with it what-so-ever. in fact, i have been told on multiple occations by more than a few people (okay, more like exactly a few) that i have a fantastic pussy. i don’t hate on girls with tiny or no outer lips, but i have never thought that looked “normal” per se. in fact, i think it looks a little goofy, especially when they shave off all the hair. furthermore, i have had the “uneven” inner lips conversation with countless friends of mine, and i don’t think one single girl has said she doesn’t have one side larger than the other. my right side is slightly larger, and i will have you know, that little piece of skin is extra-sensitive and loves attention, a matter upon which no one has ever complained. ever.
and so it is in closing that i would like to say we must be thankful for life’s small blessings. today i am thankful for the fact that i have happened upon one part of my body i wouldn’t sell a kidney to afford to have surgically altered. well, that and the invention of dark denim. what kind of jeans did fashionable people wear at night before dark denim? i hope to never find out, i honestly don’t want to know!
i want candy
sometimes i worry that most of what i do besides writing revolves around the desire to consume. when i see something i want, i want it and have to have it and sometimes never even use it. i will covet things and then when i get them, hold them near and dear, saving them for "special occasions," sometimes so long that they become useless to me. i have, like, 60 lipglosses that i never use because i like them too much, and now some of them they have gone off and smell like wax.
when i was little, i collected sanrio school supplies. i wasn’t into hello kitty, but this brown bear with a green background whose name i don’t remember. he had no mouth. i collected all of these things, a pencil box, pencils, pens, erasers, and never used them. i would bring them to school, lay them out carefully on my desk and stare at them lovingly. then once a week or so i would wash them because they got dirty from the lead of the pencils i did use. i loved those things so much and never used them. now i don’t even know where they are.
the same goes for sex toys. i love going to sex shops and, when i had money, loved buying sex toys. i have a couple of dildos that i NEVER use. this is partly because of the afore-mentioned anatomical situation, but also because i am just too lazy. still, whenever i see them i want more and more. they come in so many fun, yummy colors and sizes! at pride i got this free vibrator that is also a flashlight keychain. nice! impractical! i will probably never use that either, except as a flashlight.
but i do use my vibrator(s) sometimes. i have gotten so into the habit of making the sign of the cross before bed that the other day i accidently made it with the same hand as i was holding the vibe in as i walked to bed from my closet.
great, now everyone knows where i keep my sex toys…. and that i am secretly somewhat god-fearing.
oh well.
fergaliscious/handjobs
okay, so, i have a few things on my mind. the first is obviously fergie of the black eyed peas and solo fame. i say “obviously” because it is so not obvious. as you all know, i hate fergie… or so i THOUGHT. upon careful consideration i realized that i actually enjoy fergie, the woman. she seems like a real kick. i just hate her music. but wait, why do i LOVE the song “glamorous”? it is just so good. so bad it’s good! it might have something to do with it playing 500,000,000 times while molly and sarah were here, but for some reson i really enjoy it. i always sing along to it and accidently sing “g-l-a-m-o-U…” and then feel like an idiot because everyone in the club must think i can’t spell. not so! i just spell glamourous the british way. duh.
anyways, i am also thoroughly enjoying the new radio station in l.a. called movin 93.9. it rules. where else can i listen to both 50 cent and lionel ritchie? seriously, the other day they played that lionel song “all night long” and i thought to myself “i should change this. this is wrong…. but i want to hear it…” and it was just a real pickle to be in. then i realized that it was okay to listen to it because it was playing on the station i was ALREADY listening to. thank god. fiesta forever!
in other news, i have decided to re-embark on my starvation diet. this diet, to remind you, includes mainly slim fast, cigarettes, ice chips, and shame. so i was at target and i decided to buy a twelve pack of slim fast optima and also a twelve pack of target brand ultimate diet shake and do a taste test showdown, as the target brand is a whopping $2 cheaper than the name brand. the only problem was i bought the slim fast in chocolate and the target brand in vanilla. so really, the taste test is compromised. i will tell you that the sf brand is 100 times thicker than the target brand, which is basically vanilla water (yum), and therefore is probably way more filling. i can’t tell you for sure yet at this time though, because i washed down my first round of diet shakes with thai noodles.
what i can tell you for certain, however, is that target brand “compare to playtex” tampons do NOT 
compare to playtex. i buy playtex tampons because as they absorb moisture, they open all the way around, like a gentle flower. other brands, such as tampax, get longer and fatter. this creates a situation in which you know to change your tampon because it begins to actually emerge from your pussy. now, maybe i have a shallow vagina or something, but in general i find this to be fairly vexatious. well friends, just fyi, the target brand “playtex” tampons do that too. they are not like playtex at all, not at all!
well, that’s about all i have to say re: consumer affairs. i was beginning to worry that my poverty was turning me into a butch because i am so poor that looking at the sephora catalogue didn’t even give me half a boner, but now i have spent a good half a paragraph talking about my va-jay-jay, so i feel whole again. plus the whole catalogue is practically about bronzer and i have already found my fav bronzer (NARS laguna, if you will recall) and i dunno why everyone is so obsessed with being tan anyway.
it is nearly five a.m. and i have a job interview tomorrow. i have decided that i don’t think i can keep my job at Buffalo Kitchen because it is nipping away at the last few drops of my dignity. i am not a proud person (obviously) but i don’t like feeling stupid and i think everyone at Buffalo Kitchen thinks i am some kind of idiot because i refuse to learn how and where to seat the “guests.” the harsh truth is that i simply don’t care. i am sorry, i simply don’t care to know how! if you ask me, the servers should be standing at the host stand, gnashing their teeth at one another to get those “guests” and the tips they hold within their wallets. instead, they get mad every time i seat someone in their section. hostess, indeed! my idea of being a true hostess would include at least giving a hand job, and a tip for ME. seriously, i would take more pride in that.
so there you have it. not only do i like a fergie song, but i am chubby, have a tiny ‘gina, and would totally give $10 hand jobs.
okay, so why do i love myself more than EVER right now?
the proud, the drunk, and the free
long beach pride was this sunday, and it was amazing.
wait, first let me say that i promise promise PROMISE to fix my camera. and get a decent internet connection. man, i so wish i had pics from pride. i am so exhausted and have no pics. there is no way this post is going to be any good, argh!
the thing is i got WASTED at my roomate’s show/hang the djs on saturday night and then everyone went back to tina/ajai’s to hang out more. didn’t get to bed until maybe four and then was awakened by ajai and tina to leave for LB at like, nine a.m.! luckily lisa dott brought bagels or i probably would have vommed in the car. we got there early and watched the parade and met some cool peeps. now i give highlights:
1) the LARGE, myserious, obviously somewhat fresh trail of blood from the front sidewalk of the apartment building where we were hanging out pre-festival and one of the other apartments in the complex. i was REALLY sleepy, but playing CSI miami and following the clues such as blood spatter evidence and bloody footprints really woke me up. then it made me feel sick.
2) getting into the fest for freeee thanks to the genius of one renegade lesbian armed only with scissors, tape, and a winning smile.
3) reaching my goal for the day which was to find a girl who looks exactly like sean paul. shauna paula, we named her. i don’t think any of the literally HUNDREDS of girls we saw who looked like that were named that though, so no go.
4) my awesome new bacardi bat glow-in-the-dark necklace.
5) listening to the dancetastic sounds of amber performing live on the main stage (this is your night, dancing free until the morning light, together forever cause this is your night, everything in is gonna be alriiiiiight….)
6) making new friends and hanging out with old ones. we had a fine little group going.
7) stumbling drunk through the streets of long beach, singing amber songs.
people in long beach having parties with actual snacks and not just beer. but also having beer. lots of beer.
9) complete gay takeover…. i love you.
well, there was lots of other stuff, but it is boring or inappropriate, so i am going to leave it at this. i am buying camera batteries TOMORROW.
got a few posts in the works. some quite personal, so i hope no one minds. “hope” is very different from “care” though, fyi.
catch of the day
while at work at Buffalo Kitchen, i have the opportunity to make many (somewhat) humorous/interesting observations and i can’t help but start writing the stories in my head. the misfortune is, dear reader, that heavy drinking and severe, untreated depression have slowly and stealthily whittled away at my once awe-inspiring abilities of recollection.
this means normally, by the time i get home, all i have for you are choppy, bitter posts re: the sad state of my personal life. and with no pictures! well guess what guys? i’m actually doing rather well lately. i had the opportunity to examine this fact as i stood in the big stall of BuffKitch today puking my guts out from what i can only assume is some kind of food allergy you get from eating work food at work. every time i eat on the premises or on a catering i instantly need to vom, but when i get takeout, i’m totally fine. weird.
anyways, point is, i realized that except for my desperate financial situation, shitty job that is for a 19 year-old or someone who genuinely believes in upholding corporate standards, and lack of sexual intimacy, i am doing great! i have made a lot of really great new friends, live in a great place with roomates i really like, and am writing almost every day. but enough about me…
not really, that’s all i got. “our” internet is being a jerk again and i can’t upload any pics to typepad. boo.
the other day at work this man came in with his kid. the kid was like, maybe five years old and the man had maybe the gayest voice i have ever heard. i know this because he was talking loudly on his cell phone the WHOLE time they were eating. the kid was just sitting there silently scooting his mac and cheese around his plate while dear old dad closed some kind of deal. i hope the dad wasn’t really gay and was instead one of those creepy straight dudes who is just inexplicably effeminate yet overly aggressive, because i should think that no gay dad would ever neglect his kid that way. imagine the shitty memories that kid will have of that day! i happen to remember every single meal i had with my father growing up. of course, this may be due to the fact that there were a grand total of about four or five before he disappeared forever when i was three, but whatevs, i remember them and they sucked. he was always pissed and never let me drink my soda ’til after i finished my food. at least that kid at Buffalo Kitchen got to drink all the soda he wanted because his dad wasn’t paying any attention to him. lucky little brat.
so yesterday none other than britney spears showed up to eat at BuffKitch. i am so pissed i could scream because i was so supposed to be there but i left early because no one else wanted to go home early. great, missed it all. the stories everyone keeps telling are making me so jealous. today i worked a double shift and the only “personality” that came in the door was Wet Nap Lady. she tried to pull the old bait, switch, and grab with the wet naps again, but i cut her off at the pass and she only made off with two.
speaking of bait, there is a new club for girls by that name going on thursday nights at MJs in silverlake. it’s hilarious. there’s a fog machine and everything. the best part is really all of the funny puns you can make with that ridiculous club name. let’s “hook” up at bait, etc etc. but seriously we went there last night and it was super fun. madonna said it best in “get into the goove.” only when i’m dancing can i feel this free, indeed….
crazy
if you ask me, crazy people are a lot less crazy than normal people. normal people think their lives are super-important and that they have something to contribute to society, therefore they run around the world wreaking emotional havok on those around them, and doing stuff like “working salaried jobs” and “falling in love” and “buying multiple toothbrushes at once.” scoff scoff, i say! crazy people know that their place in the world is to think too hard about shit that makes no sense like if the last slice of pizza feels lonesome, or what it would be like to live in the tiny world created after a rainstorm, when the drops fall from the roof into a bucket, dripping over onto the green grass. and being alone, so alone, but never hurting anyone with their foolish aspirations.
old clothes, new cokes
as a woman whose main talents include picking up things with my toes, thrift store shopping, and writing clever myspace comments, you can understand that i will jump at any opportunity to use one of said talents to prove myself useful.
today was no exception. i went on a rare solo expedition to st. vincent de paul thrift store which is, in the words of my reality t.v. co-star, the costco of thrift stores. it is huge and daunting and if you go on the wrong day, picked over by ravenous hipsters. i don’t like going there by myself because there are no changing rooms and i like to have someone around to spot me while i try on clothes. the last thing you want to do is flash some poor, old, mexican grandma your thong. i mean, i hope it is, perv.
anyway, this was the best thrifting day i have had in a while! i found so many good things, including tops and usually i have bad luck with tops. i have a keen eye and sense for a good thrifting find, and love the thrill of the hunt. i have been starting to worry that i am getting old and losing my mojo, but today i proved that no nineteen year-old hip chickie is any match for me, as they ogled me and my finds in line to pay. what a rush! also, as luck would have it, over 90% of the stuff i happened to pick out was half-off ticket items of the week. what a day. i felt like clicking my heels as i walked out of that place.
i sure wish my camera wasn’t still battery-free so i could post some pics. i will later though, i promise.
OMG, one other thing, i am so so so excited about new diet coke plus vitamins and minerals. i’m not making that up, it’s real. it’s new. i need to have it. i am basically addicted to diet coke, like, crackhead style, and this is going to enrich my life in ways untold! i am hoping the vitamins and minerals will negate the carcinogens in the aspartame.
now when oh when will they figure out how to cram the powerful antioxidant benefits of the pomegranate into parliament lights….
if i had a dog, i’d name him Bob BARKer
hey, you wanna know what’s not funny? the huge, long line of people who camp in sleeping bags outside of CBS studios on fairfax and beverly on monday nights to get into the price is right, directly across the street from an admittedly shorter, humbler line of homeless people in sleeping bags camping in the shelter of an awning next to the washington mutual bank. none of those price is right dorks better be from l.a. or even california, or i swear they will get an old-fashioned beat down. once, i was walking by them and i heard one woman clad in particularly loud salmon-colored shorts shouting incredulously, “do you know how many of them have come up and asked us ‘why are you in line?’ can you BELIEVE that? and they are FROM here!” look lady, pretty much no one here gives a shit about the price is right. those that do simply do so for kitsch and still have the good sense to keep it on the DL. and p.s. that means “down low.” SHEESH!
and you know how they make their own fancy puffy paint t-shirts to convince bob barker to pick them as contestants (or however it works, i don’t fucking know)? well, recently i saw a lady wearing one that said, on the front, “WHAT’S WORSE THAN KATRINA?” then on the back “BOB BARKER NOT PICKING ME.” okay, look, i’m all for making fun of national tragedies, but hurricane katrina… not funny yet, just not funny yet, and especially in the context of a giant white lady wearing a hot pink shirt with that slogan to get into a shitty game show on CBS. to make matters worse, her friend was wearing a t with a scowling, flaming bald eagle clutching a shredded american flag that said “Support Our Troops… My Husband’s Over There!”
sigh.
do you know what is funny? gatorade flavors. i have noticed that the recent heat wave has prompted a rise in gatorade consumption by my friends and myself. that, or we all just 
really love calling it GAYtorade, as everyone enjoys a good gay pun (oprah’s “friend” GAYle king. hahahahahaha. that one never gets old…) anyways, last night my roomate jaime and i both happened to buy some. i was drinking fruit punch (a classic) and she was drinking mango (xtremo). then des (other roomate and dear dear friend) asked how long have they had mango blah blah blah and it got me thinking about gatorade flavors. last week i tried to buy one from a little vending cart at the hospital when my grandpa was there, and i had to choose between lemon-lime, berry, or a pale purple one called, like, “arctic bliss.” i had no idea what to do because i don’t know what arctic bliss tastes like. i mean, it was purple, so presumably it was grape-y, but there are no grapes in the arctic and there is frostbite, which may also be purple. i bought it anyway, and it was pretty much grape, fyi. anyways, there is a hilarious list of all the gatorade flavors on wikipedia grouped by year and by category. the only problem is there is no “arctic bliss” so now i’m worried i was drinking pirate gatorade and am gonna die.
these are the things i busy my mind with when i’m standing around at Buffalo Kitchen watching my youth evanesce into the flames of the mesquite grill.
the good news is i am off work today AND tomorrow and am going to rest rest rest up for the INSANELY fun weekend i have ahead. more on that later. let’s just say… fire up those rainbows, ha!
barrel of laughs
sometimes i get tired of people always saying i’m funny. it’s not that i am ungrateful for the appreciation of others, the sentiment, or this wonderful, useless gift god has chosen to bestow upon me… it’s just that i wish there was something else special about me anyone could say.
i would give six or seven of my teeth to be thin and beautiful, and that’s a fact. of course, then i would technically less beautiful and unable to eat, but i suppose i could settle for just being painfully thin. hurray!
oh well, i guess i am just a big old barrel of laughs. that is, if the barrel has silky-smooth skin and a killer ass!
haha.
just kidding. the barrel totally has splinters, and is filled with salty, bitter tears.