March 30, 2006
guess who's moving? meme!

worst title ever? quite possibly. do i care? probably not.

yesterday i found out the truck we were to use for moving (which was free) fell through. which left me one day to find a moving truck for a weekend at the end of the month. how do you think that went?

after the first four places laughed at me, i finally found a place with a ten foot truck. not as big as we had hoped, but better than duct taping our furniture to a horse and carriage.

so. i won't be here tomorrow because i will be moving. and also probably taking drugs to ease the pain. in my absence, please enjoy this meme that i stole from melissa.


1. choose a search engine, click "images."
2. pick 5 (or so) random blogfriends.
3. think of a word or phrase to describe each friend.
4. do an image search of that word or phrase.
5. pick an image that makes you say "ah-ha! that's it!"

so. let me first say that my choosing you for this dubious honor does not mean i love you more, nor that i love those unchosen any less. it just means i'm lazy and didn't try very hard. also that you owe me cookies.

anonymous coworker
i initially searched for "funny dead" and found

i was hoping for more necrophilia, but this addresses the
techie side, so i took it. plus, it's way funny.
it's only funny to me, isn't it?

then i tried again (you owe me so many cookies dude, it's not even funny. you should probably just send vodka and a fifty.) i googled "zombie pirate."

i hit the motherload.
i'm pretty sure this is actually him.

i was going to go with the obvious "sloppy internet whore" but instead chose "popo lover."

true to form, i got something that would have been scrawled
across a gloryhole somewhere had it made more sense.

jiggs casey
i searched dutifully for "extra nards," but found nothing. in desperation, i turned to "sexy sandwich."

this is the wisdom of the ages, as passed down
by a prepubescent african american boy masquerading as jiggs casey.

purely because i am in charge, i searched for "knits boobs."

and they're being gift wrapped! could this be more appropriate?
i don't think so.

in the spirit of choosing people far away and who have not given me permission, i have nominated nick to be my "new best friend." initially i came across this photo (it is disturbing for those of you who need such warnings) and considered it because i thought he might find it entertaining considering the search terms. eventually i went with the far more suitable

nick is the ipod because he like mac,
and i'm the furby because i'm animatronic.
we're sharing!

spinning girl
i find spinning girl most delightful and after repetitive googling of "gadonkadonk," i was forced to try, "mysterious twin."

google is psychic! it's a monkey pot! wow!

common wombat
this one left me with few pictures, but one magnificent link. i cannot tell you the search terms, as it was essentially a crapshoot(!) using all the words i know for butt.

March 29, 2006
welcome to my blaaaaahhhhhg

last year, despite my stoic and well-meaning efforts to remain curmudgeonly and unamused, my life was changed. somehow i became acquainted with a furry little simian named monkey. i read his posts (graciously typed for him by his delightful and smokin hot human) with delight and had never been so happy.


until i heard the voice of monkey, the sweet soothing cadence, the dulcet tones of, "hello, this is monkey. welcome to my blaahhhgg."

and i was forever enamored of monkey. our love was of the ages.

my favorite audio post might be monkey hospital. then again, who can forget thanksgiving greetings? monkey also performed an audio meme for me. just for me!!!!

all i know is that when monkey mysteriously disappeared recently, i took to my bed and have not been the same.

i miss monkey desperately, and hope he is well where ever he may be. (though should he not be happy, my armpit is open for monkey business.)

monkey approving audio posts.

monkey is being loved across the internets today, by grandpooofawesome, spinning girl, brooke, knittykitty, jiggs casey, nick, ubermilf, and many more, i'm sure.

monkey love is like that you know.

March 28, 2006
where i've been

natalie dee is a wise woman indeed.

so yesterday may or may not have included an interview for a shiny new office in which to blog (just kidding! i totally work hard) and i may or may not have been twenty minutes late for this interview due to my utter and complete stupidity.

because how hard is this?

north south east west. not rocket science. not even seventh-grade science.

here is a highly accurate and scientifically designed map of the los angeles area.

you can plainly see to the north a gathering of dirt called a "mountain range." there is a fairly noticeable lack of these "mountains" to the south. one might think that this differentiation would make it easy to decipher north from south, but one would be a snotty, condescending, directionally-advanced bitchface.

also? what exactly constitutes a mountain? how do i know it's not just a really big hill?

you may have noticed a large amount of water in the westal region. does this help me to know if i am where i should be? not particularly, unless it is clearly within view. otherwise the sea might as well be clive owen, beautiful and absolutely nowhere of use to me.

i ended up three miles northeast of where i wanted to be, which where you are might be just three miles, but here? three miles might as well be guam. eventually i made it and had what seemed to be a good interview. but i can't stop thinking how i will never find a job if i can't even find the ocean.

March 24, 2006
my uterus is on fire

goddammit i swear the damn thing is about to fall out.

every month my womb is like a tiny guantanamo bay, and all the little eggs get to deliriously shaking the bars of their cells, because viva le resistance! they demand freedom!

i'm going to bed.

don't forget the ebay stuff i told you about here- auctions end sunday.

March 23, 2006
this just in!

i was number one (1!!!) for a search of "miss gotta booty," which is ironic considering my ongoing series of booty laments.

in other news, i am still feeling poopie and wanting to lay in my bed wearing sweatpants and old boyfriend tshirts.

i also want to listen to melancholy music and wallow like a hip little pig in my puddle of ennui, so i have combined that desire with blogging and surreptitiously stolen a meme.

i asked my computer some questions and let itunes do the answerin'. itunes is clearly being run by one of the nine dieties that hates me (i know it's you apple.) if said diety wants me to believe otherwise, it will send me an ipod. one of the bigguns.

i like this meme because it makes sense to different people in different ways, based on how they read/hear the songs. also, these are all really good songs that you should listen to. i included a link and a lyric snippet to get you hooked. soon you will all listen to my music and i will rule with an iron breast! (fists are just oo mean.)
how does the world see you?
recovering the satellites- counting crows
"do you see yourself in me?
we’re such crazy babies, little monkey
we’re so fucked up, you and me."

so, crazy and fucked up and falling from the sky. great.

will i have a happy life?
breaking the girl- chili peppers
"twisting and turning
your feelings are burning
you’re breaking the girl
she meant you no harm."

i'm going to ignore this one.

how do my friends see me?
mad world- gary jules
"i find it hard to tell you
i find it hard to take
when people run in circles
it's a very very, mad world, mad world."

if this means i'm tired of the world, then yes.

do people secretly lust after me?
ramble on- led zeppelin
"i got to find my girl, on my way.
i’ve been this way ten years to the day, ramble on,
gotta find the queen of all my dreams.

you totally want me.

how can i make myself happy?
nightswimming- rem
"the photograph reflects,
every streetlight a reminder
nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night."

i'm going to understand this as taking more time for myself. also, skinny dipping.

what should i do with my life?
doll- foo fighters
"i wish i never had taken this dare
i wasn’t quite prepared
doll me up in my bad luck
i'll meet you there."

make voodoo dolls?

will i have children?
extraordinary machine- fiona apple
"if there was a better way to go then it would find me
i can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me."

who knows? if it happens, it happens. i will be ok.

what is some good advice for me?
change- deftones
"it’s like you never had wings
now you feel so alive
i’ve watched you change."

grow wings. fly away. don't get caught.

how will i be remembered?
way down- tori amos
"maybe I’m the afterglow."

i just like this one.

what is my signature dancing song?
oh my god- pink
"put me on the table
make me say your name."

so i'm a stripper. cool. i want these shoes.

what do i think my signature song is?
galaxie- blind melon
"and i’m never really sure if
you’ll take
what I’m saying the right way."

i think i don't belong here. i would say that is correct.

what does everyone else think my signature song is?
cosmic girl- jamiroquai
"it was clear that she was from another time
like some baby barbarella with the stars as her umbrella."

thanks, kids. this song makes me happy, so that'll do pig. that'll do.

what song will play at my funeral?
ready for love- india.arie
"tell me what is enough
to prove i am ready for love."

this song makes me cry. good thing i'll be dead.

what kind of men/women do i like?
men: trapped in a box- no doubt
"ah trapped in a box my life becomes void
and all of the thought for myself’s now destroyed."

so i like men who can't think for themselves? or is this pesky "sarcasm" stuff again?

women: broken and ugly- beth hart
"broken and ugly yes i am
still i feel good divin' in."

yes. true. i like survivors.

what will my day be like?
guess things happen that way- johnny cash
"you ask me if i'll get along.
i guess i will, someway.
i don't like it but i guess things happen that way."

that man in black always knows where i'm at.

send cookies. food is my only friend.

March 22, 2006
if days were fish, this one would get thrown back.

i was going to post a picture of dog poop but i don't even feel like doing that.

that is all.

March 21, 2006
more hatred from the powers that be

we are supposed to be moving at the end of the month.

we got a truck, scheduled utility changes, recruited help.

we even paid a deposit.

and yet apparently, the future serial killer* who lives there (and who was supposed to be out YESTERDAY) will not leave. so.

who has a cardbox box we can sleep in?

there's another unit in the building available, so here's to hoping.

here's also to hoping we don't meet up with that guy in the parking garage at night.

*there was junk on every surface. nails, screws, electrical components. the man has five (5!!!!) couches and a bed in the living room, and not a single thing in the bedroom except mold smell. the fridge was full of black fruit. we were too scared to check the freezer.

March 20, 2006
all your money is belong to me!

that joke never gets old. shutup.

so because it took me eleventyhundred hours to post all my items to ebay, there will be no for real bloggery today.

just go here to view my crap items for sale. most of it's clothing, so the manlier men among us will not be interested. i don't really care. everything better sell. nick, if that means you need to bid on a lacy shawl, i expect you will. give it to ginny. burn it. find epithelial cells on it and clone the hell out of me.

i. don't. care.

though there is one item on there that was being watched by four people as of three hours after listing. there are weirdos out there people, and i don't mean me. i figured one of you bizarros might think it was funny (wombat, jiggs) but uccelina informs me that there is a whole fetish devoted to casting. so.

some dude in a leather corset and thigh highs is going to win my brace if you don't bid.

bid! bid for your lives!

March 17, 2006
happy st. patty's day, suckas

this morning i ate an englishman to keep the spirit of the irish alive.*

he was rather bland, as expected, but he screamed in a delightful accent.

we're having irish coffees at work today but since i always have irish coffees (don't ask, don't tell), i decided to bring a friend to help take me to the next level of celebration.

oooh meta. and yes, the flask (i love you, flask) is engraved "meow." it's her name.

you are wicked jealous.

* i came up with this joke in acw's comments and used it here too because i may or may not be a lazy drunk. also, i have to pee.

March 16, 2006
i was hypnotized by the jiggling booty

remember yesterday when i said i'd post the ebay stuff today?

i got sidetracked last night by a documentary on hookers, in which i learned that when i become too lazy to continue being a stripper (because, hello? all that ass-shaking for a mere dollar?), i will become a ho because it's really much easier. sure, sometimes it's cold out and all you get to wear is roll of medical gauze, but that medical gauze is totally holding all your guts in from the other night when you got stabbed for not wanting to put someone's balls in your mouth. so it's both fashionable AND practical!

also, i'm not really good at mathy stuff, but i'm pretty sure that 20 bucks for a blowjob is inadequate compensation. do i sense impending unionization? i know if i were a hooker (career goal? maybe.) i wouldn't even get in the car for 20 dollars. i might look at you for 35.

tonight i hope to attend stitch and bitch, so the ebay will be posted both here and actually on ebay over the weekend. you better go dig through your cushions because i sure have some weird crap to sell you. and someone better buy every last piece because i don't want to have to say i watched that film as a training video.

March 15, 2006
terror! horror! fright!

have i mentioned at all ever that i am wearing crazypants? and that they call attention to my lady lumps? mostly i’m okay with this- the pants, not the lumps. the crazypants can be useful. they give you a little extra power sometimes because you can see room to move where there may not actually be any. but it’s okay- you’ll fit. you'll make it happen. you’ll slide right through, for the crazy pants are made of crisco. or possibly warming k-y. slip and slide, baby. slip. and. slide.

the problem with crazypants is that if you wear them too long, you start to feel like you can’t take them off. eventually you pee yourself from all the gin (what? where’d the gin come from? it comes with the pants, people. gallons of it.) and before you know it you’re camped outside the coffee bean pleading for change and watching people crinkle their noses at the smell. your smell.

proof of my theories.

lately i have become acutely aware that, like most people, i have “quirks.” by quirks i mean MANY MANY colorful pairs of crazypants. for example: i don’t like it when my foods touch, so i used to eat out of sectional tupperwares for safety. i also count my steps as i walk, in my head, in song. this does not interfere with conversation or activity because it is my (questionable) nature. i don’t even like numbers, but there i am, all, “one two three lalala, four five six lalala.” stairs = syncopation. fancy!

i also have phobias. phobias being irrational fears, which makes them something i really shouldn’t have because me? totally rational.


i fear hummingbirds. actually, i fear birds in general. from far away they’re alright, but i can’t get too close because they might fly into my face. in fact, i believe that my face is their final destination. this goes for bugs too. moths, lady bugs, butterflies. they freak me the fuck out. basically anything with wings.

i think i might be afraid of faeries and angels now too, but *phew*, the gnomes will protect me.

it’s not just wings. anything creepy crawlie sends me into a tizzy, and we all know tizzys are never a good thing. in elementary school some of the really clever (read: would have gotten shot at columbine) kids called me millerpede. to them i now say, “you went to yale and my mom spent my college fund on a criminal’s attorney! you have a job with actual money and i am selling my belongings on ebay for cash (seriously. i’ll post them tomorrow. buy my crap to support the cause!)! you have nice apartments and cars your parents bought you! so, um ha! and more ha! clearly i win with my superior intellect and shiny silver shoes. because you don’t have shiny silver shoes, do you? i thought not.”

i would have to say that my biggest phobia is (deep breath because by invoking their name they will probably appear) spiders.

i know this is a common phobia. both of my sisters have it. but. i am different. example: when my dad kills one in a tissue, he will chase them around with it. just a little. it’s funny. (no it’s not.) still, he knows better with me.

because i will die.

i cannot be in the same room as a spider. i cannot sleep knowing there is one in the apartment because it could find me in the night. i once realized there was one in the shower with me and right after i hit my head on the wall trying to escape it, i ran from the shower naked, never taking my eyes off it incase it jumped. because some of them, they jump. and who’s to say they can’t all do it and they just haven’t yet because they want us to believe they can’t?????? you can’t prove they can’t jump. you also can’t prove they don’t have mace or weapons of mass destruction.

i am so terrified of spiders that i cannot even look at one on tv. which is why this new quirk surprises me. i mean, i know a whole lot about spiders. know thy enemy, right? you don’t have to tell me the swallowing spiders while sleeping thing, because i know. and anything you can tell me about spiders, i can imagine worse.

and yet i have spent about three hours a day for the last several days here. (seriously, i’m not working. i’m looking at other people’s icky rotting skin. it’s like i’m preparing for Armageddon.

this is the most informative one i’ve found. (it gets gross. don't say i didn't warn you.)

this is one i keep going back to. (it makes me shake it’s so scary. and yet i bookmarked it. i have problems.) it’s been linked by snopes and its status is undetermined. that clearly means it’s true. true!

there is something wrong with me. i keep reading this and waiting, reading, waiting. because really. isn’t this just the sort of thing that would happen to me?

i think i need to buy one of these. maybe thirteen.

maybe thirty five.

March 14, 2006
you've got to be kidding me

why is it only tuesday?



March 13, 2006
do not mess with me, sally.

i am not someone you want to see angry.

just ask slobodan milosevic. oh wait, you can't. because he's dead. do you see where this is heading, sally?

keep your creamy underage feet and cum shots to your self. word ver is back on because i am not in the mood. i am holding on by a thread, sally. a tiny little thread.

this can be demonstrated using the following highly accurate depiction of what happened when i went this saturday to get my taxes done.

that's right. so on top of the $10000 i've accumulated in medical bills (so far), and the even less money due to missed work and the groceries on the credit card and the moving expenses, now i owe the government four hundred dollars, part of which is for "social security," a program that probably won't even be around when i'm old enough to need it. the government is really helping.

also not pictured is the asshole who beeped at me in the parking lot because i didn't back out of my parking spot quickly enough for him.

the look on his face when he saw my red, tear-sticky, slobbery, boogery one was priceless.

well, maybe worth four hundred dollars. somehow i don't think anyone will pay.

March 10, 2006
one of my bad habits is being maudlin

remember back here when i mentioned i did some stuff that wasn't normal?


sometimes (all the time) i think about what will happen when i die. i don’t mean in the skinny-tie ennui hipster sense, like is-there-an-
, but more like, “will the person who performs my autopsy notice the stain on the crotch of my pants?”

will they judge me based on my scabs? the eybrows i was planning on plucking when i got home, but never got to because of that whole untimely death thing? should i write a little note, and laminate it, and keep it in my purse?? because i won’t be able to explain myself, and i don’t want them sizing me up based on the weird singular hair on my arm that grows to be like five inches long in one day. i am not the red lines across my stomach from these jeans*, or the oddly shaped pattern of stubble in my nether regions.
*they fit really well standing up. i can stand all day.

will my chipped pedicure factor in? the uneven dye job? the incomplete tattoo on my side?

i have also heard that people poop when they die. this clearly will not be the case with me, as i never poop. of course by never i mean only when extremely upset, and being dead, i’m pretty sure my mood will be stable. unless in the act of dying i get all angry like, “what the fuck? i’m not ready to die! i was going to have fruitti di mare for lunch.” and then i poop because i’m sad for all the shellfish i’ll be missing. also foccacia bread. mmmmm.

what will they think of the things i keep? my movie collection? the books i read- and the passages i underlined? the naked pictures on my computer? the five deodorants in my drawer, the 35 eyeshadows, mostly green?

will they read my blog?

people probably think about this stuff more these days what with all the csi floating around out there, but i can’t remember not thinking about it. when i go places, i touch things because i want to make sure they know i was there. or i don’t, for the opposite reason (those suspicious fires were so not me.)

i am relieved to know that my being is my protection. you can’t mess with science. but i am hurt that it will eventually betray me, and all the stuff that is really me, the parts that loved demolition man (you know you did too) and spicy chicken and eating mashed potatoes with my fingers and animal crackers dipped in diet coke (shut up) (that was mostly food. this might be a problem)– all those things will be gone, and i will be just a body to people who don’t really care.

my clothes will be fibers and not style.
my skin will be a map of prior injury, and not a pretty face.
my brain will be nothing. empty. gone.

i don’t go a day without thinking pretty much this whole thing.

no wonder i’m crazy.

March 09, 2006
nick wants to be a princess too

i thought a classic cinderella style ball gown would be best. i hope that's ok.

(for those of you who think i'm weird, yesterday's post will make this all clear. also, you're probably right.)

March 08, 2006
miss kendra in wonderland

”in another moment down went alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.”

ubie wants to know into what sort of rabbit hole i would fall.

first of all, it would be lined in apple green velvet. and there would be lights shaped like stars all the way down. also probably a little door on the side to the bathroom, because i never manage to make it through a long trip without at least one stop.

then when i got to the bottom there would be animals everywhere for me to play with and no matter how much i squeezed them or rubbed their bellies they would never ever bite my face. there would be kitties and a river full of otters, and big dogs, and a yorkie named wickett, and a horse because i always wanted to be calamity jane, and sign language monkeys with perfect grammar. because everyone would have perfect grammar.

there would be plates of cookies and rice krispie treats and delicious platters of sushi and burgers that do not make you fat. there would be endless libraries at my disposal, and when i wanted to make something pretty, a neon light (vegas style) would shine me in to a room filled with glitter and yarn and vintage fabrics and googlie eyes. and i would never have to clean up after myself because there would be no mess. and everything i made would be just the way i pictured it in my head because the gnomes would be helping. my martini glass would NEVER GET EMPTY.

i would have a giant bed, a whole room of bed covered in 5000 thread count sheets and i would always be able to sleep when i wanted to and not miss anything.

and there would be an italian restaurant that always served spaghetti and meatballs (my recipe), and instead of having The Princess Room be for “functions” it would be for real princesses. and if you weren’t already a princess, for a nominal fee you could go in the foyer (foy-yay) and they would have a big machine shaped like a rocket ship, and you could step inside and press some buttons for like green eyes and red hair maybe, and lights would flash and steam would shoot out and the rocket ship would go, “boop boop bleeeeeeep boop blip” and when you stepped out you would be a for real princess.

for real.

and then there would be racks and racks of beautiful dresses and they would all fit (even the ones cut on the bias) and you could change into a different one as many times as you wanted. i would wear red for breakfast and green for lunch and white for dinner. white would normally be for when there wasn’t any food around. except there would be no stains in my rabbit hole.

and everyone would read my blog. blogging would be my only job, besides looking pretty and testing the food to be sure it’s still good. which it would be. always.

March 07, 2006
i want things and someday i will have them *update*

aside from wanting swag with all sorts of blogger related slogans on them, ie: jiggs casey, i am in love with this site. because i love witticisms and them thar funnie pik-chers.

a sampling:
seriously. if i owned something with this on it,
i would be very. very. pleased.
the mug? the tote? the messenger bag? the tote could hold yarn.
the messenger bag could have my laptop in it.
this is too much pleasure for me.

i love this. it deserves to be a framed art tile.

check out what they've got (don't forget what's on sale.)

maybe they'll give me a tote bag for my blatant shilling.

i also want this. very badly.

if you aren't familiar with my flaws, or if you find flawed women particularly attractive, please read below.

March 06, 2006
leaving me now would be considered petty

yesterday i was having a little chat with a fellow blogger and she mentioned that i could not possibly understand the complete and utter suckage of needing to lose some pounds because (she said) i am so. skinny.

balderdash! claptrap, eyewash(?), flimflam, hogwash, hooey, horsefeathers, gobbledygook, piffle, poppycock, rubbish, and also, quite obviously tommyrot!

in the interest of honesty, and because i fully intend on meeting some of you people (i use the term loosely), i would like to reveal to you my faults. i am clearing the air, because if i am upfront about my promiscuous mom and double wide, you can’t use shit against me when we battle.

(public service announcement regarding honesty courtesy of the always helpful slim shady).

any and all of these flaws may be exaggerated, as i am insane and tend to blow things out of proportion.

i am probably about ten pounds over what i should/want to be. i wear a size 9, which is totally fine (poety!) and i have a really nice figure, but i could stand to be slightly less squishy, technical term. related: i am getting bingo arms, aka teacher arms, aka wings. this is not a huge deal, i know- i lost a large quantity of weight almost three years ago and so i understand the ridiculousness of being preoccupied with ten pounds, but i live in LA, where even at my smallest i might as well be a hulking ogre of a man. this is a point that haunts me while i’m sleeping.

something about the air/water/general shittiness that is LA proper has made it impossible for me to go even a single day without a pimple sprouting on my back. and i am very fair, so i scar. i look like i have some sort of pink spotting disease. it makes me sad because i am too self-conscious to show my back now, which is where my awesomely awesome tattoos are.

more about scarring- i scar from everything. ingrown hairs. burns. scratches. dirty looks. if i were ever to pose for a magazine, they would have to shoot me wearing a potato sack in a costco parking lot, because their budget would be blown on covering my scars with makeup and the magical powers of photoshop. but ooh! i'd look great awkwardly reclining on yellow speedbumps.

because i am so prone to ingrown hairs, i only shave my legs about once a week, twice if there’s a party. i am neurotic about hair growth though, so once i have some stubble, no one is permitted to touch me.

my butt is nothing special. i have mentioned this before, but it’s really something that bothers me. it’s not all round and whapow! like, say, vida guerra. (do not google image search her at work.) Boy is an ass man so i am very concerned about my shortcomings in this area. i find myself checking out other girls’ butts all the time. it makes me jealous. if you do not want me looking at your booty, you might have to pluck out my eyes.

my bottom teeth are crooked. i try to tell myself this is unique and endearing, and something that makes me me, but really it’s just messed up teeth. i smash them into my lip rather frequently, which leaves me wounded and snaggletoothed, like an animal in a trap. peta! fix my teeth!

i have some sort of thing with my left foot where the skin between my pinkie toe and the next one over is always peeling off. it's not athlete's foot and nothing seems to help. it doesn't smell (i checked) or itch. it's just weird, and it's been there for going on eleven years. eleven!!

i sweat. i wear antiperspirant and deodorant and yet i sweat. not puddles, not stinky, just damp enough for me to be bothered by it. i rotate deodorants to try to alleviate these problems. sometimes i use Boy's. do not tell him. i am supposed to be perfect!

i pick my fingers. i don’t realize it half the time, but i could never be a hand model. i’m usually missing a fingernail tip or cuticle somewhere.

sometimes i don’t smell like cookies. i smell like cake.

March 03, 2006
blue Boy

here's a real shocker. i'm serious. i have actual work to do right now. i think the devil could use some muffs because hell must have frozen over.

in the spirit of nobody being here on fridays anyway, here is some bad faux photoshopping and (gasp!) poetry.


i imagine you in a car crash,
broken glass mimics the constellations
of freckles on your eyelids.

my body closes in on itself, spastic,
it collapses—
the space around me inflamed and pixelized.
i smell salt water; tears, cold sweat.

your curled body, a fiddlehead,
limp as hydrus, burnt out, twisted,
cool to touch,
faded away.

my tongue is thick
a mouthful of raw eggwhite.
matter, anti-matter,
i spit another and
another, till it’s just the taste.

my chest fills with stars, my core
gravity so strong not even light
can escape.

i feel i may disappear from view.
everything stops.

March 02, 2006
i am too tired to be clever

i have a real post (or three)i'm working on, but i can't stop pooping (stress). or being in pain (shoulder). or using parentheses (i heart punctuation, punctuation never leaves). or having one of my family's cats die suddenly (miss scarlett, cancer). obviously "miss" is a family name. we always thought oreo would go first. he is/was fatter, older, sicker and far more crotchety. but oreo persists, as do i.

i promise i will try harder tomorrow.

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