October 31, 2005
i always wanted to be a princess

happy halloween, internets!

i'm much to busy being celebratory right now, and you know, skinning little children to sacrifice to the dark lord, but i thought i'd show you a little bit of what's happening here at my work.

i used to live in salem, where halloween is kind of a big deal. this has left me jaded and bitter when it comes to halloween elsewhere, though i hear the west hollywood parades get pretty riotous. i am sorely disappointed that i missed saturday's drag race and pageant.

of course it being a middle/high school, there were the usual kinds of costumes, slutty pirates, slutty fairies, slutty sluts. but then there was some unusual fare, like the group of girls dressed as ostrich farmers, as demonstrated on google images by this guy:



or the girls wearing leather dresses and bloody handprints. i think they were vampires? then there were some bowling pins, a violet beauregarde, bjork (swan dress! she wore a swan dress!) and a spectacular angel of death:



and assorted faculty and staff, dressed to impress (men in schoolgirl uniforms? check.) might i present a few personal favorites:


zee sveeedish cheff, bork bork bork!



blossom, bubbles and buttercup!



humphrey, the ultra-scary and terrifying dragon!



pretty pretty princesses.
snow white, sleeping beauty, belle, and cinderella


i look a little weird in that picture, but i will sacrifice some vanity to bring y'all into my life.

just as long as you keep in mind that if i had photoshop on this p.o.s. computer here at work, you better believe i'd be blurring, cropping and retouching big piles (HUGE piles) of vanity right back in there.

we also had a marvelous villain:


i know this kind of storyline crossing can really mess with people,
but i won't tell if you don't.


and i have a sneaking suspicion that somewhere along the line that rat bastard walt disney sold a few vials of my dna...


they're cute and everything,
but i'm totally the prettiest of them all.



October 28, 2005
50 cents to point and laugh

the past several months have been a time of relentless haranguing for me. Boy has been very vocal in his protest of my continued resistance to his master plan, but his cruel teasing and laughter have only deterred me further. one time, at the height of his ranting, he actually paused to ask me why i wouldn't give in. when i bared my soul to him and said meekly, "i'm skeered," he looked at me incredulously and resumed his verbal lashings.

i've tried to silently bear my pain, but last night i caved to Boy's demand that i actually leave the house and go to stitch n' bitch. really he just wanted me to go and knit and be merry with strange knitty ladies like myself, but everytime i thought about it i was taken over with this sinking feeling, as if it were the first day of kindergarten and i had not yet mastered the art of getting to the potty on time.

and that means it's not gonna be that long till the other kids think i'm weird and smelly.

but off i went, partially because i was afraid that Boy would subject me to more cruel and unusual punishment if i stayed. i mean really, i know it's the season and all, but how many times can a girl watch fright night?

when i walked in to the farmer's market i was absolutely sure they would sense my fraudulent remedial-knitter presence, the ridicule me with their maniacal laughter and stone me on the spot. but they smiled and looked at me understandingly, like they knew my pain.

notice i said, "like they knew my pain."

because they did not in fact know my pain. for my pain, lo! it is massive.

it stems from the fact that i wield my knitting needles like i'm edward scissorhands. i'm liable to put an eye out. then there's the torture of watching me try to knit. because i have to concentrate so hard that my brain pulses in my head and my hands move so slowly that i might be retiring by the time i finish each row and after every stitch i have to readjust the needles because i can not hold them like a functioning human being for more than twenty seconds.

it was at this point that i became positive the other ladies were pointing at me as if i were a side show half-gator, half-girl in their heads. i felt like i was in one of those old school department store dressing rooms where everyone has to get all naked together. and not in a sexy way.

but aside from the friendly, "i think you screwed this up somehow," it went swimmingly. in fact, i ribbed. RIBBED. me. wow.



dita helped me, and then some pretty pink girl named sarah helped me some more. and quite luckily my guts are smarter than i am, because they told me to sit right near these two fancy pants ladies



which was *so* the right place to sit because faith (evil queen) and sara (witchy woman) are just about the coolest. i want to follow them home. (don't tell... i almost did. what? i said almost.)

plus there was some food there, which of course i couldn't eat, but looked cool.


these cupcakes look like brains!



these are culturally aware cupcakes. dios de los muertos, y'all.



and who doesn't love a good poop cake?
tell me who! i'll kill him!


but best of all (seriously. it tasted like the dewdrops that scatter from angel's wings) was this scrumptious glass bottle soda from the farmer's market, which i bought to get my parking validated, but then we fell in love. i mean, i was sticking my tongue way down that bottle's throat, so it must be love.

you can read a very serious review of the root beer's bouquet here. really.

since stitch n' bitch was not the slow and humiliating death i thought it would be, i'm considering going back. but before then i would like to make it abundantly clear that despite a long and storied history of saying such things, i was not the person who said "anal sex."

really.

i swear.

i may have joyously continued the conversation, but i can rest peacefully knowing i did not start it.



October 27, 2005
and they think kate moss is a bad spokesperson

first i just want to say that all y'all are c-r-a-z-y. my hair is *so* incredibly not cute in that picture. one side is like two inches shorter than the other and it's all crinkly! clearly the picture did not do the heinousness that was my morning hair justice. it didn't capture the magnitude of the frizz, nor the strange pattern of bends that appear to be a complex and well executed topographic map of the world. that's right. the whole world.

plus, i look like i share genetic material with bozo the clown.

i don't know who this jason character is, but i don't trust him.


now. apparently, i have become a blogger of epic proportions. because i've started getting emails from companies that want me to shill for them. the problem is that i only shill for companies i like.

well, that and they want me to do it for free. don't they know the operative word in "sell out" is sell?

so here's the email i got.
Hi Miss Kendra,

I found your blog as I was searching for quality blogs that list reference sources, such as Dictionary.com. I'd like to introduce an alternative: www.nofreepublicityfrommisskendra.com.

notgonnagetitsnameonmyblog.com is a (blah blah blah, edited for boredom... blah blah blah) There are several ways to boost your blog's readership using our site. (blah blah blah, link us, it's easy, we think you're dumb enough to succumb to our blatant attempts at flattery/solicitation... blah blah blah. One last thing to spread the word on your blog: Submit your blog, and, if approved, you and your blog will become an entry on ourcrappywebsite.com.

blah blah blah, insincere closing statement.

Communications Coordinator
thewebsitethatiwillneveruseonprinciple.com
i especially like the part where she thinks i might get approved to be a link on their site. because i'm sure all the f-bombs i'm dropping won't be a road block or anything. but just in case it isn't, maybe i should sprinkle a few cocks in. you know, for good measure.


classic farm-raised cock.



artsy techinicolor cock.*
*traditionally to be avoided. colors mean cooties, girls and boys.



huge motherfucking cock.



feed me cock.



October 26, 2005
you're so vain, i bet you think this post is about you

there's a problem with my new hair, besides the fact that it neither cuts through aluminum nor juliennes fries. it's quite serious, actually. the problem is that everyone seems to really like it. including me.

i can not stop looking at myself in the mirror. or in the windows of my office. or in the little mirror i brought to work so i could look at my hair in case there wasn't a mirror. the pressure to look hawt has increased exponentially and is crushing my soul.

because let me explain something to you about my hair.

it hates me.

it is uncooperative and surly. it was fine until we hit puberty, then it got all sullen and shit. you know, stayed out past curfew, pierced its tongue, slept with the football team. then i sent it to wilderness camp, where the-man-du-crunchie-granola glacier mountain wolf tried to change its ways, but that hair, it's stubborn. at least it didn't get arrested for crashing a boat into a family of seven. while it can occasionally be tricked into looking reasonably attractive, mostly i have to strap it down and give it a couple (hundred, thousand, whatever) CCs of thorazine. and sometimes haldol. only sometimes, though, 'cause sometimes i keep that one for myself. (gluuuuuurg. haldol is bananas. hehehe.)

before, i would tie it all up on the top of my head into what i like to call "my pineapple." see, you thought when i drew pictures of me that looked like this



that i was joking. i assure you, i was not. the pineapple is no laughing matter.

now that my hair is too short to be the pineappley (pine-APP-ull-ee) wonder it once was, i have to you know, style it. which means a hair dryer and some hot stick thing and more weird pink girl stuff, to put in my hair and then sit around looking like this


yes. just like this. exactly.


because my nice new cut is supposed to present itself like this:



but because i am lazy and usually drunk, i do not like to wait for this result. i want instant gratification. i don't want to blow dry. it sounds hard.
"pick up [my] hairdryer and direct the flow of air along the hair under tension. this flow of air must be from scalp towards the brush but not on the brush. [i am] really drying the hair that is pulled straight between the scalp and brush, using the brush as a griping (sic) tool rather than a brush."
i can barely read that! and i have edjimication!it's just too complicated, seeing as my brush would apparently need bowels and i'm pretty sure it doesn't have any. (this is why we spell check, kids. to insure that our inanimate objects don't inadvertantly develop excretion systems.)

so anyways, i tend to go bed with wet hair. then i wake up like this. and it ain't pretty.


please keep the screaming to a minimum. hideous monsters have feelings too.



October 25, 2005
i apologize in advance

i was in the shower last night singing nursery rhymes when i came to "baa baa black sheep" and realized that it kind of sucks and is totally an allegory, but not the good "this one makes you smaller" kind like alice in wonderland. you can only get that lucky once.

anyway, some jerk asks if the sheep has wool, and the poor sheep is terrified, as is evident in his blood curdling screams of "yes sir."

yeah huh.

anyway... and then he has one for the master? that sounds like slavery to me. and it says right in the title that the sheep is black. i was outraged. so i'm hereby officially starting f.o.m.s., friends of minority sheep, a group heartily endorsed by His Noodleyness because they have the same initials (and also because it's a righteous cause, duh), in the hopes that this kind of tragedy never happens or is immortalized in song again. i say officially only because apparently i started this group twenty years ago.



this sheep is totally jewish. we are a minority together.






tomorrow will be better, i promise. i ran out of time today.



October 24, 2005
crazy with a side of crazy

i am crazy. case in point:

this webgame, called unconscious mutterings, that gives you a word and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. no changing your answers, no time to think. the words for this week are
infiltration
nice person
debt
settle down
thomas
unforgivable
medicine
a year from now
neighbors
dripping

so that you completely not-crazy people can have time to think about your own assuredly un-crazy responses, i will tell you now about my weekend.

steps to recreating miss kendra's weekend:
1. procure sexy boyfriend who just purchased new motorcycle.
2. make chicken pot pie* while sexy boyfriend goes out for quick ride.
3. sit around anxiously when pot pie is done and sexy boyfriend hasn't returned.
4. throw up a little in mouth when sexy boyfriend arrives with bloody hand and broken helmet.
5. help sexy boyfriend take cracked side of bike apart and listen to story of EvilCabbieFromHellWhoEvilyCutsOffMotorcyclesBecauseHeIsEvil.
6. sleep.
7. wake up, eat cheerios. and corn chex.
8. go to bank. feel defeated (and poor) when bank will not deposit check because old landlord wrote wrong name.
9. go to wacko soap plant and buy this towel.


10. go to costume shop. get followed around because you appear to be very suspicious and it's probable that you will abscond with fake blood and/or vampire teeth. also get touched on the butt by older curiously shaped woman.
11. get 6.5 inches of hair cut off, on a whim, by irish lady in orange pants at supercuts. discuss the finer points of clive owen, lumberjacks, and firemen.


pay no attention to the silly look on this girl's face. only look at her hair. her cute cute hair.

12. go home. clean. drink. clean. drink. drink.
12.5. drink.
13. be drunk. take pictures of feet.



14. sleep.
15. wake up, eat cheerios.
16. eat more cheerios.
17. do boring housewifey stuff like food shopping and the roasting of the roast beast.
18. watch really fucking good movie. ))<>((
19. watch tv.
20. sleep.


there was also some sex, which is really the only part (besides the movie) that you should try to reenact. and you can try, but fair warning, you will fail. i've got moves and you don't know them. unless we've had sex before, in which case... um, hi? how'd you get here? when will you be leaving?

and now here are my answers to the "unconscious mutterings" which prove beyond a reasonable doubt that i am certifiably insane.
infiltration--mountain dew
nice person--dumb
debt--
settle down--story time
thomas--english muffin
unforgivable--face
medicine--purple
a year from now--dead
neighbors--shot
dripping--the clap


thank you. that will be all.



*instructions sold seperately.



October 21, 2005
that's a wrap

the one person who reads this on fridays can blame the rest of you who don't read it till monday or whenever for the follwing recap.

i now present:

random collection of things that pleasured me this week

- writing "things that pleasured me" on the internets.

- audioposts. specifically, ones like dr. monkey and valentine, and also gravitas. among others. mostly monkey related. mostly played over and over.

and over.

- exchanging emails with auntie sassy and anonymous coworker. i like emails. send more. and also cookies. but not through the internets. i only eat them when they're whole. because crumbs aren't cookies. no.

- this chair on craigslist. it won't fit in my apartment or you better believe it would be there.


my butt looks really cute in green.


- family portraiture, here and here.

- some sex. (you didn't read that, dad.)

- these shoes. they aren't my favorite ones, but i *SO* need leopard print shoes. immediately.

or i will die.

- hearing TheStevieWonder on howard stern.

- this post, from valancy jane. and also this link she provided, where i discovered that i could sell my blog (the humanity!) and pay off my credit cards. tempting, but without debt to bitch about, where would i be?




My blog is worth $10,726.26.
How much is your blog worth?



oh! and this ecard vj got that i wish i got. why don't you slackers send me ecards? huh?

- getting the sheet music to "colors of the wind" given to me at work without ever having asked for it. it was like fate. yes it was.

- fake eyelashes.

- this picture of me, age 2


i wish i still had this outfit.


- Boy telling me he "was going to make a card for our anniversary, but we didn't have the right macaroni."



October 20, 2005
i'm it

10 years ago: i was 8 days from losing my virginity. i had jet black hair and my favorite pants were some baby blue corduroys i bought at a dollar-a-pound sale my favorite vintage store. i smoked unfiltered cigarettes. and pot. i went to a private school for smarty pants kids that focused on language and art. we had goats and a one-eyed rooster whose comb fell off from frostbite. i was a vegetarian; i ate instant mashed potatos and farina everyday. i had an orange cat named gabriel. i was in foster care* and i liked to steal, mostly makeup but sometimes pink bic razors to cut myself with. i did print modeling. i was fairly miserable.
*the people i refer to as my parents on this blog are actually an adopted family. it's a VERY long story, but you can assume that unless i specify "birthmother" etc, i am referring to the crazy people who chose to take me into their lives. whatta bunch of weirdos.

5 years ago: i was a junior in college. i lived in TheYellowHouse, in an apartment across the yard from my best friend ray. he shot out my window with a paintball gun. i was engaged. i was the editor of a literary magazine. i weighed 50 pounds more than i do now. i had a cat named bagheera and a turtle named zelda. zelda died. i worked at vinnys, an eye-talian place, and so often stank of garlic. i was moderately miserable.

1 year ago: i had been in california for only 16 days. i did not have a job. Boy and i had just celebrated one year together and i felt an incredible sense of accomplishment. i weighed 10 pounds less than i do now. i was pretty darn happy.

yesterday: i rear ended some girl in a beamer. she got out of the car, looked at it, said, "eh. shit happens, right?" and then drove away. thank you karma. i got takeout with Boy for our anniver-scary. we made out.

5 snacks i enjoy:
1. apple rings (duh)
2. graham crackers
3. chips and salsa
4. grapes
5. vodka. what? it's totally a snack.

5 songs i know the words to: just so you know, this is totally ridiculous. i know the words to a jabillion songs. so this will now become songs that i do a karaoke without looking at the lyrics screen.
1. "sweet child of mine" - guns n' roses
2. "crazy" patsy cline
3. "maryjane" alanis morissette
4. "total eclipse of the heart" bonnie tyler
5. "no rain" blind melon (dressed as the bee girl. fo' real yo.)

5 things i'd do with $100 million:
1. pay bills, mine and others
2. buy a house for me and one for *begin pikey accent* me maah
3. buy Boy a ducati
4. open a business, maybe a bar or crafting place. maybe a crafting place where you can get hammered and make doilies! sweet!
5. travel around to places i've never seen and meet blog people.

5 places i'd run away to:
i cannot tell you, because then you might find me. but i will tell you three places i have run away to before: my boyfriend's best friend's house (at age 15, to get away from my foster family), rhode island (at age 22, to clear my mind about my fiance), california (last year, people, with my loverBoy. pay attention.)

5 things i'd never wear:
i agree with valancy jane. there's a time and place for everything. except maybe clogs.


5 biggest joys:
1. cheerios and diet coke (not mixed, but both for breakfast)
2. other assorted foods (i can only pick 5!)
3. seeing other people happy because someone (possibly me) did something nice for them
4. my friends and family, including this beast.
5. writing, so by default, this here blahhhhg. <---i'm from the Bean, remember?

5 favourite toys:
1. accents
2. sewing machine
3. Boy
4. my computers
5. finger puppets

what is cool at my place:
the reverend.


now here's where i'm sposed to "tag" people, but i generally don't pass this kind of stuff along. you know, stuff like chain letters, memes, and crabs. although i wouldn't mind reading calzone's answers, or hearing monkey's. that's right. i want an audio post.

and i will get one.

or else.*




*or else i will not make you any pants! and you will be shamed in public by your hoo hah forever!



October 19, 2005
i love you so much i want to scoop your eyeballs out of their sockets and chew and suck on them

"monkey love"

two years ago, when i was living in the Bean and going to grad school, i met this guy and we went to get a hot dog. in times square.

then we agreed to be friends. the kind of friends that get naked together, but by absolutely certain standards are in no way in a relationship. at all. ever.

then we made out in a phone booth. for twenty minutes.

then we moved to california.

there was of course some stuff in between, but it's all mushy and gross and shit, so i'll spare you. anyway, today's our anniversary, and i'm sorry (really, i am) but i don't wanna blog about anything other than how much i love my man. hmm. look at that. i got some gross shit in there anyway.

here is some seemingly unrelated, but totally pertinent information. i have incredibly vivid dreams. it's probably the peyote, but hey, what am i gonna do? right before i realized i loved Boy i had this dream, where he was a surgeon and i was being chopped up into pieces. you know. in the good loving way.

really.

i wrote a poem about it for my master's thesis, and here is an excerpt because it's either read this, or read more of me going blah blah blah, love love love love love.

vivisection

...pressed to the soft spot under my left breast
the spot that makes me extend and curl
and shake under your breath

you pull it towards you
i split as if i were meant to be cut there
you are reopening a wound

none of this hurts
i am not scared

i hear your voice but you
are not speaking
somehow you explain
somehow you know it all

and there i am, suddenly,
open.

there i am, suddenly open.

you slip into me, your fingers
searching, sliding through the slick
heat of my body, curling
the palms of your hands around
my center, the places where I’m warm
and pink.

“these are your lungs,” and you
show me one, glistening and steamy
“just breathe, just breathe”

(you are holding my breath)

together we observe
the elasticity of my tissues
my layers of dermis
i should be scared of all you can teach me.

one at a time you display
my parts, expose me
to air and light
i have never known before what
was inside me

“look here”
it’s hideous
small and still pumping
with every beat it gets
larger
larger till it is huge and
pulsing in your hands, till it is
so big it anchors you
so big it seems it might fall.






love love love love love.


i know, it's true. i'm evil. i can't help it-- he's just that good. i'll go before this gets out of control.

i love you Boy. now all of the internets know.



October 18, 2005
you might wanna rethink that visit.

anonymous coworker will be pleased to know that today is sukkot, the feast of tabernacles.

see?


i however, will look back upon this date as the day in which i discovered my neighborhood's redeeming characteristic.


it's not the posters announcing the release of i am me, because that totally harshed my sukkot rejoicing.



it's not the heavily promoted "doom", or the once-was-emo stylings of weezer. and while i love me some dave grohl, it's not the foo either. (rhyme! do i get points for that? i better.)

it's pretty simply really. a short distance west of my aztec dancer infested home is this:


i mean, it brings up a few questions, like what exactly makes them "mo better," and which animal does "meaty meat" come from, but i'm pretty sure this *is* the reason people move here. who could resist?

i apologize for the quality of the picture, but there's only so much a girl can do with one hand on the steering wheel and the other gripping the stem of her martini glass. one pothole and those fuckers just break right off.

just kidding! i don't drink and drive. i reserve the commuting time for my other vices, like road head, huffing glue and keeping my right arm elbow deep in a bag of apple rings. ahh, the good things in life.



October 17, 2005
wanna come visit? no? shocking.

before i get into this other crap, i know you're all dying to know, imagining me saying something outrageous (something like "dyn-o-mite!" no... that doesn't work at all.), something all piss and vinegary. hmmm. maybe some phrases don't benefit from the addition of the -y. and maybe not!

anyway, the thing is that i really didn't say anything that bad (i thought.) i try my bestest to curb the *$#%@&* words here at work, and i understand that not everyone is as "irreverent" (read: doesn't give a shit) as me. so i generally watch my mouth. you should watch it too... it's pretty.

but maybe it was something brought about by a generational gap, where in my generation feels it's ok to joke about certain painful events, (in fact, we encourage it! we have pain! let's laugh at one another and pretend it goes away!) but maybe an older group of people (not old, just older) thinks some things are Just. Not. Funny.

so ok. maybe it was inappropriate to mumble some stuff about starting a revolution and conscientious objectors. i get it. vietnam jokes don't fly here. does that mean i shouldn't compare fighting for the copier to iwo jima? because it's so like me and other immature writers to dramatize things for effect. just saying.

and now, the other crap.

remember how i got so fucking upset when we moved here about the motherfucking church bells? that go all crazy jubilant every motherfucking hour? i'm over it. now i am FAR more concerned about the drumming, the motherfucking drumming, all the motherfucking time.

and then i look out my window and see this.




and that's not even the best part. i regret to inform you that i did not get there in time to take pictures of the really big feathered headdresses as they drummed their way down the street. a major street. all weekend long. fortunately, google has rescued us, and i can give you a frighteningly accurate depiction of what they looked like.
but with more color. and drums.


no, really more like this guy.

who dresses like that in downtown la? well, *me* now. i know a good bandwagon to jump on when i see one.

besides, that outfit will totally distract from the horror that is my leg. for those of you who do not want to see my incredibly sexy hawaiian islands (not a euphamism), please skip this link and go directly to the second one.

my leg is falling off.

shiny happy people holding hands.

have a nice day.



October 14, 2005
where is bruce willis when you need him?

well, it's finally happened. i knew it would, but i didn't think it would be today. i mean really, who plans for armageddon to show up on a friday, mid october? i didn't. i'm not dressed for this.

anyway, it's true. the world is coming to an end. and like mama always said it would be, apparently it's my fault.

now y'all know i *try* so very hard to control my sailor mouth (if by try so very hard i mean: sometimes try and get drunk just to see what it'll do next) but occasionally i just have to let the words out.

or they might manifest themselves in other ways.

what happened is this: this morning, as i was singing joyously along to the rockabilly stylings of Supreme and All Powerful Choir Leader, i came across a measure of music that seemed, well, wrong.

very very wrong.

now this song we're singing, it's a doozie (hehe.) it was written by He of the Sequined Jumpsuit and also of The Only Cool Moustache Ever, the even more supreme and all powerful Freddie Mercury.

i think this outfit is meant to draw our eyes down...



anyway, we're singing "crazy little thing called love." which is yay! great!

but we're singing the dwight yoakum version. which is boo. not great.

any one who knows choral music knows that it is essentially written to remove every last ounce of cool from songs by sanitizing the lyrics (in this case, the incredibly naughty "cold sweat" changed to "cool sweat") and through the insertion of ridiculous exclamations, usually at the end, in the form of some overzealous jazz-handed "yeah!"s.

but this is far more heinous, and you will understand why i could not hold my tongue.

there is a line in this song that goes "take a long ride on my motorbike." harmless, no? until the females, alto and soprano alike, are required to exclaim "whew!" at the end, like this motorbike is (capital-T) Thrilling and someone better fetch us our fainting couches. i do not even know how to pronound this "word." is it phew? woo? wa-hew?

now i realize that choral music is designed to make us all into mormons (and or steak house waitresses), as evidenced by the type of outfits sold to choirs and choruses (is this a word?) all over, but "whew?"

not in my backyard, utensils. go back to china.

and it has since been brought to my attention (by more than one oddly angered individual) that my reaction to this exclamation was regarded as immature. that i should trust in the leadership of His Supreme and All Powerful Choir Leaderness.

because surely i couldn't have been joking.

so i suggest the getting out of the tinfoil hats and the going into the leftover WWII shelters, because my mouth has finally done it.

the sky is falling.



October 12, 2005
t.g.i.t.d.b.y.k. *

last night Boy brought it to my attention that since we still have no internets (comcastic my ass), and won't have any till friday afternoon, he has not been reading my blog.

and since he's so incredibly not the guy who reads backlog, i have pretty much wasted all this time that i could have been saying anything i damn well felt like. not that i don't usually, but the fact that i know he won't see this makes it feel more exciting. like burger king bathroom sex.

ahem.

and now, in the spirit of this uncensored bloggery...

i once broke up with a guy once we had um, "consumated" the relationship because i realized i didn't really like him. at all. i just needed to get laid. twice. (i was 18! and possibly somewhat slutty... but i swear i've really changed. now i'm tarty. and 25.) it wasn't that good, so most of the time i cannot remember his name. jimmy, maybe? johnny? joey? i think this means i'm a bad person.

i once began a sexual relationship with a boy predicated solely on his ability to sing "superstitious" at tuesday night karaoke. oddly, he also sang "chocolate salted balls." and quite well.

i have (twice) used Boy's beard trimmer for other purposes.

when i make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner i line them up to bake in rows of four. sometimes i eat one before i let Boy know dinner's ready, but then because i don't want him to see i already ate one, i eat the whole row.

now what does it say about me that the meatball thing is the one i'm most ashamed of?

shut up, jungy mcfreudypants. it says i like meatballs. that's all.


* thank goodness it's the day before yom kippur. i must go atone now. as you can imagine, this might take a while.

see you friday.



October 11, 2005
let's start at the very beginning...

a very good place to start. i realize that maybe you have some questions about the basics? because maybe i am insane (a little) and just assume you know things? like that i'm tall, or allergic to certain edibles (i miss you cheese. you were so good.)

monkeygurrrrrl asked how old pickles is. well, we think he's three but who the hell really knows? i mean, he might, but how's he going to tell us? pee in three consecutive circles? i wish he wouldn't.

the story of pickles is this: one day, about a month after we moved Here, Boy and i decided we should consider getting a dog. the next day we got one, because i am (as previously noted) rather insane. once i got the idea in my head and the landlord's ok, i was on a mission.

we browsed on the web for local shelters and found this one dog who was way cute, all spottie and with smurf-blue eyes. unfortunately, when we met him he was a canine version of all jumpy and chewy and barky and generally not apartment or shoe collection friendly. and while i have a history of beginning relationships with broken men so that i can be TheOne who healed them (don't judge me! i am a woman who cares too much!), i am indeed trying to change this behavior. so we looked around.

we narrowed it down to two dogs who were more our speed. taco was a little brown thing (though not filled with refried goodness), who was very sleek and young friendly and energetic. pluto (as he was called then, poor little guy) was quiet and almost imperceptable in the back of his kennel. they told us he had been there nearly a year, since the halfway house he lived at shut down. so we took him home.

he fell InLove with Boy in the first few days, because i was working at that point and Boy had not yet started. he has some neuroses, like he won't cross the street if the gutters are rainy, or walk over a street grate, and that whole urine thing, but he's pretty cute so we let it slide. except for when we chain him to the radiator and beat him with sticks.

and ever so kindly, Valancy Jane offered to repair the dirty rotten kitty. but i feared putting it in the mail might get me arrested for transfer of toxic substances. that thing has spent the last six months in pickles' mouth. i hate to write this on the internets, because he might see it and accuse me of poor doggie-mama-rie (sounds like comeraderie. i make up words. wanna fight about it?), but good god it smells. so instead of attempting to recreate the past, and since he is (probably) three and ready to deal with matters like this, we explained to pickles that dirty rotten kitty has gone to a better place.

called the dump.

and then we got him a new one, like any good parents trying to buy their child's love do.





October 10, 2005
proof!

christ on a cracker! it's she who likes to take pictures with her digital camera! that's right. this is me, today. about thirty minutes ago, actually. i was going to try to illustrate that little monologue with facial expressions, but self portraits are freaking hard.

so now some other pictures, by she who likes to take pictures. commence forced viewing of pictures.


this used to be a stuffed dog toy. now, sadly, it's a shell of what it once was. an empty mangled kitty sac. forsaken. *weep* i'm sending this picture to the makers so they will know never to discontinue this toy. because what the dog did to that kitty, he can do again.

or he might be forced to lick your face. you cannot escape.



ahem. now, today, i present proof.

proof that getting me a digital camera was an excellent idea.

proof that getting me an iron maybe wasn't.

and proof that not only am i pretty, but also a mind-boggling genius of the highest genius degree. because only a genius, whose genius mind is focused on geniusy things like john stamos and apple rings, would commit an act of this caliber.

*open scene*

i sit calmly on the reverend, almost buddha-like in my pulchritude(cha-ching!) and tranquility. i am by no means picking my nose. okay, maybe a little. i have a septum piercing... cut me some slack.

i am here for one reason-- to iron this dress, simply to remove the nasty crease where there once was a hem, but now there is not. some people don't want their cookies showing, you know. even though their cookies are totally cute and worth looking at. yeah.

because this is such a small project, (so small! just a hem!) i theorize silently that it would be so much more efficient if i didn't have to set up that whole ironing board contraption. in fact, wouldn't it be swell if i could just put this miniature ironing board across my lap and do the ironing right here?

without getting up?

so i could sit here with my only local friend the TeeVee*???

and it was, like all things, beautiful at first. the ironing and i, we had so much to talk about. over linguini and a soft cabernet we discussed our dreams, our futures.

and then somewhere along the line, it all went wrong.

i think it was when i pressed the steam button.

here's what my formerly pasty white leg looked like immediately after.



here's what it looks like today. big island is like a shmooshie liquid pillow. i keep asking people if they want to touch it, but no one does. weird.

i like how you can see the criss-cross in maui. now we match, and i will never forget the springtime of our love, dear ironing board from ikea.




*postscript* as i was writing this, big island erupted. dammit. now it hurts.



October 07, 2005
the crazy person formerly known as me

on my way home last night i was listening to the radio and realized i had made an egregious and unforgivable mistake in my memememememe yesterday.

truly, what i miss the most about the eighties might in fact be this man.

and the song i love that i do not own is little red corvette.

because i have gone absolutely insane overnight, for real yo, i will now allow the tiny people in my brain to dance while i attempt to soothe them by chanting the lyrics in sweet and dulcet tones.
I guess I shoulda known
By the way u parked your car sideways
That it wouldn’t last

See you’re the kinda person
That believes in makin’ out once
Love ’em and leave ’em fast

I guess I must be dumb
’cuz u had a pocket full of horses
Trojan and some of them used
(who writes songs like this anymore? *sigh*)

But it was saturday night
I guess that makes it all right
And u say what have I got 2 lose?
And honey I say

Little red corvette
Baby you’re much 2 fast
Little red corvette
U need a love that’s gonna last...
well, TheCrazy has given me its demands, which means The Royal Purpleness is going to have to give up the whole jeebus thing and resurrect the ass-less pants if there's any hope of recovering my sanity... thus












prince song most likely to result in nekkidness
DARLING NIKKI (for the kinkier among us)
DIAMONDS AND PEARLS (for the sweet love makers)
SOFT AND WET (for the traditional folk, though who knows what the hell they're doing here)
JACK U OFF (for the solitary lovers)
LITTLE RED CORVETTE (for the people who know what's good for them)
OTHER PRINCE SONG (because there are so damn many worthy of nekkidness)
OTHER (if you choose this, you lose any hope of getting in my pants)


  

Free polls from Pollhost.com


i do not claim responsibility for all that empty space above the poll, which has been updated to accomodate all of the many other prince songs that might result in nekkidness, because you know, i only have so much time in a day! this poll would take forever!



October 06, 2005
in the ghett-oooooo

i'm swamped today with utterly un-fun things, but i wanted to catch y'all up on something before i go all meme crazy again.

we will be seeing Miyagi for the first time this year (5766, people. representin' my jewfolk. woot woot!) on saturday. i know you miss his adorable smiling face and the hum of the burny needles, not to mention the stories of his exploits in a mexican gang... but wait! if it's gang stories you're a-lookin' for...

last night as i return to my new and pee-arific home, the neighbor from across the hall stops me outside my door and asks for peroxide.

now being the industrious girl i am, i of couse wondered if he wanted hydrogen peroxide, or if he needed hair bleach. because seriously, it would be really neat if he had blonde cornrows. hell yeah. but alas, he needed the first aid kind of peroxide, and when i asked why, here's what he said.
i kinda got shot up.
kinda. got. shot. up. all nonchalant like, as if this happens all the time.

he was at the home of his "friend" when this happened, which says either he's in a gang or he's living a real life afterschool special where in little johnny accidentally discharges daddy's weapon into the flesh of a nearby (coincidentally bandana-clad) buddy. which is totally feasible. totally.

anyway, he declined my suggestions to go to the hospital, my suggestions being pleasant and casual, and subtly coated in abject horror. i took his no to mean that he was far too busy just now, but as soon as he got some time cleared in his blackberry he would head right over. and that's normal, and i would know, because once i made my friend stop a taco bell on the way to the emergency room, as i was Hungry and i knew it would take a while for them to put my finger back together. but don't worry, we were *way* considerate and used the drive-thru so we wouldn't, you know, weird anyone out with my digits all bloody and askew. hehe. askew.

and now the meme.

1) my uncle: is my co-conspirator at family gatherings.

2) never in my life: have i eaten veal.

3) when i was five: i was smarter than some people i know now.

4) high school was: not as much fun then as it would be if i went now.

5) i will never forget: the freckles on Boy's eyelids.

6) i once met: willie nelson. he signed my ten-gallon hat.

7) there's this guy/girl i know who: really deserves to be happy but probably won't be.

8) once, at a bar: i convinced some guy to trade me his tshirt for my stinky work beater.

9) by noon i'm usually: frustrated.

10) last night: i watched a movie and lent peroxide to my neighbor who got shot.

11) if i only had: a budget for a maid. word, sassy.

12) next time I go to church, i'll: be really fucking surprised.

13) terry schiavo's: story made my parents create living wills where they chose my sister to be the plug puller and my other sister got jealous.

14) what worries me most: is that i don't do enough.

15) when i turn my head left, i see: a typewriter and some filing cabinets.

16) when i turn my head right, i see: my purse and my miniature wine tree.

17) you know i'm lying when: i tell you.

18) you know what i miss most about the eighties: elementary school.

19) if i was a character written by shakespeare: i'd be rich from royalties.

20) by this time next year: i hope to be slightly thinner and slightly less in debt. i'm being realistic. for a change.

21) a better name for me would be: first name: "charly" last name: anything. at. all.

22) i have a hard time understanding: why people think cameron diaz is pretty.

23) if i ever go back to school i'll: get an ph.d. or become a doctor.

24) you know i like you if: lick your face. no no that's the dog. sorry. i like you when i damn well say so.

25) if i won an award: i would make my parents mail me my fanciest dress from storage because i didn't pay that much for it to only wear the thing once.

26) darwin, mozart, slim pickens & geraldine ferraro: do not live on my street. in the ghett-ooooo.

27) take my advice, never: build your house on the side of a mountain in an area prone to earthquakes and mudslides. and also don't mix vodka and jack. *shudder*

28) my ideal breakfast is: peanut butter on toast, cheerios, and turkey sausages.

29) a song i love, but do not have is: jamiroquai's space cowboy remix

30) if you visit my hometown, i suggest: mailing me roast beef sandwiches from land&sea and some coffee rolls from dunkin donuts. or else don't come back, because i'll be waiting for you. and i'll be hungry.

31) tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: i have no idea.

32) why doesn't everyone: stop being so shitty?

33) if you spend the night at my house: my dog might pee on you. not really, but i will try to feed you.

34) i'd stop my wedding for: i don't have a wedding. rub it in my face, why dontcha.

35) the world could do without: the TomKat baby. *double shudder*

36) i'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: the belly of a spider.

37) my favorite blonde is: i can't think of just one.

38) paper clips are more useful than: paris hilton.

39) if i do anything well, it's: love. and karaoke.



now.... which one of you delinquents shot my neighbor?



October 05, 2005
open letter to who ever is in charge

dear sir or madam (or yummy dinner)

WHY DO YOU HATE ME?????

i understand that sometimes you religious types like to test the faith of the humble masses, especially as we are beginning a new year (and you know i'm partying like it's 5766)... i can even conceive of your logic that in the midst of the high holy days, the time wherein i should be atoning (or whatever), that this would be a good time to challenge me, to force me to rise to the occasion.

but what you don't understand is that i will rise. i will rise up and kill you if this doesn't stop.

the move? well, thanks for sending TheManiel to help out. too bad that's all the help we got. i'm sure you had a good laugh as you watched me struggle to remain human and functional in the face of a sinus headache that made my eyes leak uncontrolably. here's a comment you may remember (and may i ask that you promptly erase it from Boy's memory because i will never get my diamond burrito if he remembers seeing me in this state):
if you do not find the bed by the time i crawl from this shower i swear i will die and you will be stuck in this shithole without me. just you and the dog and his flaky skin and the termite carcasses. for a whole year.

i think i looked like this at that point, so if you're looking for things to do later, you could probably erase that image from Boy's memory too.

oh, and our couch? that we spent like 600 dollars on just last year? that new couch, well, it's sitting in the hallway because it will. not. fit. inside. the. door.

so now the loveseat that pickles has been using for the last year has become our couch, which means it needed a slipcover. which means i bought a brand new slipcover that the dog promptly peed on. thank you for making him reliable.

speaking of pee, i hope you are punishing the woman who lived here before us. she was clearly a terrible doggie mama, as evidenced by the fact that she never allowed her dog to leave the apartment, what with the pee stained wood floors and smell that will not go away. i will continue mopping with this stuff and it better start working! because grown women do not enter retail establishments and ask sales clerks to show them the wee-wee!

moving on. you know that blanket we had? instead of buying a new one with all the dollars i don't have, i bought some dye to try to make it match the new slip cover. except that the dye worked much better on my hands than on the blanket. which is now in the trash. and no matter how many times i wash them, my stupid hands are still green. i even used bleach... which left them dry and damaged and green.

when i was in junior high i was the same height i am now and i wore a green dress to a bar mitzvah and all the boys called me jolly green giant. i still haven't forgiven you for that, so fix something or i will cover my face with my jolly green palms and cry.

and could you please have a word with the people in the church across the street about the excessive and overly jubilant bell ringing? there is no reason to be so happy at 8 a.m. none. i mean, i can think of one... but in a church? while ringing a bell?

all i'm trying to say here is that you have screwed up. i know this because yesterday afternoon *deep breath* my very own digital camera arrived in the mail* and yet i have not taken a single picture, nor pressed any of the bright and shiny buttons. i am too busy dealing with my life! don't you understand that there are many things i need to show the person who reads my blog???? (hi person!) i'm gonna miss out on this whole ass-showing trend! you are slowing me down, diety-type thing. get your ass (or meatballs) in gear.

in conclusion, let me know if you'd like to buy my couch.



*thank you Kady's Pet!



October 03, 2005
lost in transit

we are still kind of doing the last minute movey type stuff, so i will not being blogging today (and tomorrow i have no work! woot!) so i just wanted to let you know i'm not dead, though there were points during the move where it seemed a viable option.

also, the faeries seem to have been lost in transit. if you see them, send them my way. see you wednesday!



golden state