Amanda Failure Princess

i am adverse to beauty. or rather, several of its key components, including vulnerability. i refuse to feel soft. i have often thought of how funny it is that god (or whomever) decided to make me so enigmatic, and yet so un-mysterious and profuse, an enigma in itself. i have all this love to give, and i love so easily, but i will never, ever be able to experience the transfusion of love that happens between two people, because there is no way the needle is going in. even if they find my vein, it would likely be made of steel, or surely collapse just then, paper-thin. should the other person’s ichor somehow seep into my stream, it would undoubtedly be intoxicating for a moment, at least for the moment before my body ultimately rejects it. i am set in my ways, and anything variant from my own kind of love, no matter how true, could sicken me, curdle in my vessels, and weaken my heart. is any high worth that? i am left to wonder.

give me a break, it’s a holiday and i’m depressed. you may be happy to know that all is well in the Failure sector of this little ship. i am ruining as planned, no delays or stops. my valentine’s day with joe was lovely and perfect, and still i am miserable and wishing to remove my skin piece by piece. it is a sickness, clearly untreated, but i feel like it’s my responsibility to feel this way. i had almost forgotten this, which is kind of embarrassing, when i really think about it.

in way more hilarious news, i went to this lesbo night last night at the falcon in west hollywood. on sunday nights this “hotspot” screens the l-word for l.a.’s dyke elite (LOL) and celesbians. recently it has been a frequent haunt of paris hilton, puzzlingly, or rather, tellingly enough. in case you don’t know, i spend 99.9% of my time on the east side of l.a. and my stomach pretty much fills with bats when i have to travel west of la brea. i really wanted to take pictures for you guys, but i only got a few of me and my friends looking petrified, and what i reallly wanted to show you is how fucking ridiculous all of the girls there are. holy crap. it’s like what a nazi propaganda cartoon of los angeles lesbians would look like, complete with femmes in dresses, heels, and lez-cred-giving fedoras and butches in… wait, were there any butches? if butches spend $60 on pomade for their short, spiky hair and wear sparkly lipgloss, then yes, yes there were. i’m all for the idea that we queers don’t need to fit into labels or roles if we don’t want to (or can if we do), but i think the women out at this club are less the poster children for “being who you are” and more those of “being who’s who,” at least in their minds. dis.as.ter! ew.

of course, the typical celezzies were out. kate moennig (shane), rose rollins (tasha), malaya drew (adele, jenny’s assistant), and clementine ford (molly, phyllis’ daughter and cybill shepherd’s real life daughter) were all spotted at a corner table. i will say, btw, that tasha and adele are really hot in person, and i did not see shane with my own eyes, but i have seen her 500,000,000 times in l.a. so whatevs (still…). i was secretly hoping to see paris (even though i am not a fan, i just thought that would be extra-hilarious), but she wasn’t there. i was pretty bummed, then something remarkable happened. i was waiting in line for the bathroom when i looked behind me, saw this little girl and thought “who brought their kid here?” then i started to recognize her. could it be? YES! it was mackenzie rosman, better known as RUTHIE FROM 7TH HEAVEN!!!!

wtf? i’m not outing her by saying she’s a lez, by the way, because unfortunately (or fortunately, if you believe this is going to lead to diversity as opposed to appropriation) straights are coming in droves to gay bars, at least here in l.a. anyways, it was amazing. she looks so fucking young and exactly the same as she did when she was, like, nine. i don’t think she’s even 21, but upon further inspection, she did look a little older than a child and she was with some older-looking friends. this may have been one of the best celeb sightings ever. seriously, way better than if it had been jessica biel. we heard about two lesbian fights breaking out and saw the cops outside taking pics of a seemingly perfectly normal girl with a huge shiner and a bloody scratch above her nose. dyke drama = serious biz.

not too long after that we had our fill of $12 dollar drinks and giant outdoor fireplaces. we headed homeward to echo park’s fav dive bar, the little joy, where one of the bartenders (who i’m sorry to say i know personally) ran up to me and one of my other friends and screamed in our faces for coming in with another friend of ours who she used to date. it was both disheartening and comforting to know that no matter where you are in town, east side or west, gay bar or straight, there are totally psychotic people waiting to possibly attack you.

wait, did i say comforting?