blah blah blah

in all seriousness, i was pretty much going to post this today. i want to be back to me, entertaining and engaging, but the stress of the last several weeks coupled with the usual day-to-day has left me tired and sore, physically and mentally. i think that i should maybe talk to someone, but i don't have the energy or will.

i smile and laugh when distracted, but it leaves me exhausted. i know this is not how i should be feeling and i am further burdened by the fact that i can't seem to shake it. i do not sleep well, and yet all i want to do is sleep.

when i was younger i took pills for some time to help me through my depression. i also saw someone twice a week. i have been so proud of myself for no longer needing them- it's been eight years. but now i wonder if a booster course might be so bad? i just can't seem to deal these days- even now, as i type this in my cube, i am struggling not to cry.

my mind is filled with ridiculous things that will not go- i feel like the world has been saturated, everything and everyone too vivid and loud and overwhelming. each thought transforms itself from harmless into a train of progressively more insane what-ifs, and i can't seem to stop it. sometimes i stand in a store and am suddenly unable to handle it- i freeze up, go silent, wish for everyone to go away. i have to fight the urge to sit down on the floor and put my head between my knees. i have to constantly fight the urge to drive home. i fight the urge to revert to old "cutter" habits, but in the back of my mind i'm cataloging the nearest sharp object, the nearest flame.

i am afraid that everything is going so quickly- i don't have enough time, there's never going to be enough time. there's a very quiet part of me that wishes i could just stop now so i don't have to want more time, so i don't have to worry about it flying by, so i don't have to get attatched to anything else that's just going to be gone.

and here i am about to tell you the most selfish and crazy part- i am terrified that if i don't post, if i am not amusing, if i continue this type of "waaaah waaaah" bullshit i will no longer have the readers whose comments are a high point of my days. i am ashamed to be so blanch dubois, relying heavily on the kindness of strangers.

i want to go home and sleep, but i am afraid of another of this kind of dream:

DREAMT



this tin bucket
glistens
with the judas-colored tide

that seeps sweet
and sour
from between my thighs.

i am so full that
i am spilling over.

i do not feel the eggs
as they fall from me
but i see them,
not at all as i imagined
as tiny zygotes,
Xs and Ys.

they look poached—
skimming the surface
like lily pads
birthing white, each with
one jaundiced and
accusing eye.

i have all the answers

i fear this post may be inordinately long. sorry. i have tried my best to make it easy to follow and visually pleasing, but a girl can only do so much. questioners are linked in red, questions in italics, answers are indented. and regularly demented. now read, bitches. mwa hahahaha! (spinning girl, feel free to print and annotate the margins.)

sassy said: I would like to know what the most expensive thing you've ever shoplifted is. Mr. Sassy and I were both kleptos when we were teenagers, so this is a topic of much interest to me.

i answered this in comments, but i don’t think everyone saw it. so here goes. i used to steal department store makeup. and also makeup from this store called garden botanika. they had no security and really neat eyeshadows. sometimes clothes. there used to be a lot of places that had no theft policy so you could just go in, put on a bunch of stuff under your sweatshirt and leave. i once stole shoes by wearing them inside my boyfriend's boots. and one time i got out of a store with about $400 worth of cds because what moron puts the cds in the aisle next to the industrial scissors that cut right through packaging, which is in turn next to the aisle with the trashcans? clearly they wanted me to do it.

Also, would you be interested in getting married by the young hot Elvis, or the old, fat, highly bedazzeled Elvis?

i think middle elvis- like a little paunchy, somewhat bedazzled. definitely a tiny cape.

valancy jane said: Miss Kendra, what should I do with my life?

run a petting zoo and spend your weekends reenacting civil wars. not just ours—all of them. become a mystical voodoo shaman. learn to make your own toothpaste. or you know, whatever you want.

jiggs said: 1. What did you get your masters in?

i got my m.a. in creative writing. my thesis was one part academic (the problem of perfection in confessional poetry, referencing anne sexton and sylvia plath), one part memoir, and one part poetry. (you can read one of my poems here) it was 125 pages. i am very proud of the work i did and very ashamed that i haven’t done much writing since. i wonder if maybe i burnt myself out a little and it will come back or if i have lied to myself and i am not a real writer? i love what i write here, but it’s different.

2. Could you enumerate your 8 piercings?

i wear five in my ears, one in my septum and i have both my nipples pierced. titanium barbells. no i will not post pictures.

3. What size are your immense succulent brains?

my brains are enormous. i had to have both my craniums custom made. my boobs on the other hand (and by on the other i mean in some guy’s) are a 36D.

monkey said: these mentions in the newspaper? Were they positive mentions or... the other kind?

mostly positive. i won a d.a.r.e. contest once. i was in the paper quite often as a child because i was supersmart and precocious and obsessive about every activity i took part in, i.e: dance, voice, gymnastics, plays, piano lessons, and girl scouts. for a brief and horrible period of time my family was an ongoing news story (more on this in autumn’s question) where i was never mentioned by name (i was a minor), but it was painfully obvious anyway.
and another time, after that, when my birthmother wrote a letter to the editor detailing how cruel i was and how much she wanted to love me but that i wouldn’t let her because i was a wicked wicked beast. that one had my picture. insert
joke to lighten mood –here--.

anonymous coworker asked: If we ever had the opportunity to meet would you be willing to: 1) Hang out?

of course. unless you mean naked. because then i would have to think about it first. okay. yes.

2) Make out?

only if you had no acwf and i had no Boy. or in the interest of science. i would do just about anything for that science.

3) Rob a bank?

what kind of bank? because a sperm bank would totally be for science.

armaedes said: if you could kill any one person, alive or dead (ha-ha), who would it be?

i’m over that whole killing people thing these days, so i would definitely pick someone dead. then i wouldn’t be responsible. hitler maybe? he’s not very nice. so him or julia child. just kidding. or am i?

autumn asked: man to prison???

to which i say do you mean which man would i like to imprison, or who did i send there? well, to be perfectly honest it depends on what kind of prison it is. if we’re talking prison for bad people who need to be taught a good lesson i’d have to go with pretty much anyone in a position of power. people just need reminders every once in a while. if you mean a labor prison for to build me shoes, i would go with manolo, jimmy choo, hollywould, the guy from prada and the old navy flipflops man. if it’s a sex prison, i’ll just tell Boy to wave at you from his cage.
as for the man i sent to prison… this is a long and very complicated story, but basically, my birth mother married someone who had a problem with children. i tolerated his abuse for about 8 years before i said anything. later i found out his other children had also been abused but had never said anything; the only reason i said what i did was because i was afraid for my sister. i wasn’t afraid for me- i just knew that i could handle the abuse better than my family could handle my revelation. when i finally did tell, he went to prison, but not before my birth mother left me, used my college fund to defend her husband and disallowed my sister from talking to me. i’m pretty sure he’s eligible for parole this year.

babyjewels said: Question: You've gone to hell. You must now hold down your absolute least favorite job, constantly stalk your least favorite blog and watch your least favorite tv show for eternity. All while wearing your least favorite outfit. What are they? And do you give the Dark One sexual favors if he occassionally lets you change the channel?

least favorite job i’ve had?? that would be high-end commission based retail. i would be selling european lingerie and “sexual aids” (read: glass dildos filled with 24k gold flecks) to botoxed-collagen-lipped bitches and working for a tiny asian woman with purple hair and no soul. i would be reading many blogs, most of which would be based in the bible belt and would have no valuable words on their pages. they would respond to my comments by saying: “ur so kewl! ur a qt!” the tv would show only sports (but never ufc, boxing, any x games, or the cool lumberjack tournaments), the oc, and assorted blurbs featuring reality tv stars and paris hilton. i would be wearing something uncomfortable and slutty, made from synthetic fibers, causing me to breakout in unpleasant places. my only coverup would be a sweater, 100% wool, that would make me want to peel my skin off because oh god the itchiness is unbearable. i would not give the dark one favors, as i am a one dark one woman and Boy got there first, but i might let him use me. you can’t fault me for this. you saw what hell i’d be living.

brooke asked: Could somebody please bring me a bucket?

on it. oooh decorative.

krystle said: If you were a pickle who (other than Boy) would you want to eat you?

definitely someone who loves pickles. i don’t want to go out underappreciated. and just for the record, i would be a kosher dill.

sassy reprised: Would giving the Dark One sexual favors actually be considered punishment? Or perhaps a reward for being a good bad little minion?

definitely punishment. unless the dark one looks like clive owen.

jiggs returned with:Question one: Why should I ask questions when you didn't answer my questions on the last post?

because i could add you to my list of labor-jail shoe makers.

Question two: Why am I annoyed that you didn't answer my questions?

because you love me.

Question three: Am I so starved for attention from the fairer sex that I get pissy when you don't answer my questions?

yes. no worries.

Question four: How did my life become this pathetic?

methamphetamine and dragons.

Question five: Is there an end in sight or will it be a general sense of malaise for the rest of my existence?

both. give up and make me shoes.

Question six: Is my life some sort of practical joke that God is playing on me?

no. he/she is far too busy messing with me.

Question seven: Am I conceited/self-absorbed enough to think that God would go through the trouble of playing a practical joke on me?

yes, but every one is. except me, because it is scientifically proven fact that nine out of ten deities hates me and wishes me endless hellfire suffering.

Question eight: Is there a question eight?

yes but it’s stupid.

Question nine (part one): Is this kind of behavior what people would brand as creepy?

what people? i don’t find it that odd, but here i am answering all the questions. i might not be the most objective on this one.

Question nine (part two): Should it bother me that I'm not bothered by people thinking I'm creepy?

no. people think i’m weird. they have no idea.

Question ten: Why am I suggesting these questions to you, when they are really questions for myself?

because you love me.

jenL said: 1. What is on your knitting needles these days?

i haven’t been able to knit since the car accident, which incidentally is making me insane, but the projects i was working on are thusly: the lil devil pants from snb nation (little cotton toddler pants with a devil tail), baby monster booties with claws and a matching monster hat with horns, and a fluffy boucle baby blanket with a hood. i make lots of stuff for babies. the projects i have lined up in my head are too numerous to list.

2. Since I don't want to be a lawyer anymore, any suggestions for my next line of work?

garbage woman. they get paid really well and you’re used to that kind of thing.

calzone asked:Why do my balls itch so much? I mean I know that you know the answer, I just want to fucking hear you say it.

because you keep letting all those apostles take advantage of you. and also popo gave you crabs. zing

ubermilf asked: First, how big was the slab of meat??? That's an awful lot of fat.

it was the trimmings from 2.37 pounds of beef..

I've always wondered, what were the boys watching in 5th grade when they were showing us girls the movie about menstruation?

bob villa videos. dammit they’re lucky.

Why won't my husband throw things like wrappers and such in the garbage? He leaves them on the counter.

because someone has always picked up after him. Boy does it too. the real problem is that you can’t stop picking it up because it would drive you crazy, and that’s just not fair. not fair!

What the hell does "What Color Is Your Parachute" mean? I know it's a book. Why did he name it that? What is it supposed to signify?

it’s just some stupid words he put together to seem profound. at least he didn’t name it “who moved my cheese.”

monkey said some more: Dear Miss Kendra: Why is my fur falling out?

according to my “yes, you are probably dying” wheel, you have alopecia and possibly anorexia. go have some bananas.

Will I still be able to blog if I am naked?

it doesn’t stop me. or jiggs casey.

And like Jiggs... is the Universe playing cruel jokes on me?

the universe loves you monkey. loves loves loves. and i know this because i am at its center.

P.S. Will you still love me when I am a bald monkey?

of course! my armpit is ready whenever you are.

Would you shave your cat if it amused you?

probably not this one, but i read somewhere that siamese cats have the coloring they do because of temperature differences, so if you shaved one and applied ice to it regularly, its fur would grow in darker, and then if you applied heat it would grow in lighter. i had to be forcefully convinced not to try this. i still might. for science.

jiggs said: I love making an ass out of myself. Why is that?

because you love me.

egan said: Can a spotted owl kill a Republican?

again, this seems like a good time to proceed with testing in the name of science.

monkey said: If so, should we have Republicans stuffed or should they be taken out with the trash? (with all due apologies to my Republican friends and family)

trash. unless they go with the décor, then by all means, stuffed.

me asked: 1) why do hot dogs come in packages of twelve... and hot dog buns come in packages of eight?

i’m not sure, but i think it’s because of al queda.

2) how can i get all of my work done without actually doing it and without giving someone else money to do it for me?

slavery. Or gnomes.

3) how do i get my cat to stop annoying me to near fatalistic violence when i'm trying to sleep? p.s. you should model your fat into a miniature cow and put it in a window or on your desk at work for all to see and enjoy.

i have no clue but if you figure it out, please tell me. and eeewww. no.

anonymous coworker said: How do you get vomit out of a keyboard?

that one’s definitely gnomes.

beeb said:one question: do you still smell like onions?

no.

melliferous pants said:What is the most embarrassing CD that you own and love?

own? i own a tim mcgraw cd. that song “indian outlaw” cracks me up. love? monster ballads?

thérèse said:Question. When you ultimately take over the world, what will be your first order of business? And also, please mention what shoes you will be wearing when you give your graceful acceptance speech.

well, i’ll probably have to pee. and since i’ll be filthy rich, i will finally buy these. i think they will give people a good idea of what they can expect from me.

babyjewels said:Tell us about your tattoos and what they mean to you

here’s where things get tricky. i was totally going to take pictures of them for you, but Boy had to go and get hit by a car which totally ruined my evening. seriously. exactly one month after my accident, he gets in one, on his motorcycle, on the freeway. so i’m gonna postpone this question till next week, when i can answer it fully. he seems relatively ok, though the bike does not. so now we’re both messed up and transportation-less.

fatwonkkid said:So are you going to the doctor for your sliced up finger?

nope, i went for my injuries from the car accident. i have aggravated tendonitis and it’s not getting much better. i am not sure what the next step is, but he gave me a cortisone shot and some more anti-inflammatories and another appointment.

common wombat said:1) Your breakfast today consists of one apple, a glass of soy-milk, and a bowl of granola with chunks of a person you see on a regular basis. Who is this person you're eating, and why?

this is clearly hogwash, because whilst you remembered my inability to consume the milk of the cow, you mistakenly gave me soy milk.(!) which could never ever happen. rice milk is the one for me, rendering this whole situation null and void..

2) Complete this sentence: "The upside to beastiality is __________."

it distracts from all the necrophilia.

3) If you did, in fact, get your arm cut off by the doctor, and it was replaced with a cybernetic robot appendage, and that appendage had, instead of a hand, a blender... What would you choose to blend first with your shiny new robo-blender-arm?

milkshakes! who wants strawberry?

4) If you were sentenced to die by firing squad (wrongly, of course, for you are infallable and there's also the pleasant cookie smell) and at the last minute they told you that you could pick any living person to die in your place, Who would bite it instead of you?

i like your thinking, mister. paris hilton? And she would leave me her money too.

5) Complete this sentence: "I never knew so many _________ could fit in my _________." Keep it clean!

i did this like mad libs, so “i never knew so many rotisserie chickens could fit in my jheri-curl.”

6a) List your 3 all-time favorite foods.

spaghetti and meatballs, peanut butter, potatoes

6b) Pick one of those 3 foods to never EVER eat again.

potatoes. i hate this question.

7) If there was no Boy, Choose one of the following to be your new love: Sam the Bald Eagle from the Muppets, The cast of The Love Boat, The Pope.

the muppet eagle. when he got annoying i’d just pull the hand out of his ass.

8) If you could re-name your blog, (which I suppose you COULD do... Okay, if you HAD to re-name your blog) what would you name it?

i don’t know. but the tagline would involve genital stimulation.

9) Complete this sentence: Common Wombat is just so full of _______ that it makes me want to ________."

mensch-iness, plotz. seriously.

melissa in london said:List five words you LOVE to use.

nefarious, splendid, beastly, peep, monkey.

What is your earliest HAPPY memory?

this is a hard one. i don’t know. a recent one was laying on my bare mattress on laundry day with Boy and pickles on one side of me and Julius boon on the other. the light was 24karats and everyone looked so beautiful. there was nothing but that to do.

How many pairs of fabulous shoes do you own?

many. many many. but not enough.

i'm not here today!

but please continue to leave questions for me, to be answered in full tomorrow. (for more details on this questions dealie, please see below.)

if you have not yet read of the jiggle, please continue to the post below.

otherwise have a lovely day. i hope to be commenting on you blogs this afternoon, post doctor.

unless he cuts my arm off.

no, i'd still do it. just slower.

jiggle!

business to attend to: i will not be blogging tomorrow as i will be at the doctor. in addition to your regular comments, please feel free to leave me quesions, any questions, a la this post by anonymous coworker. i will answer them thursday. now back to your scheduled blog, already in progress.

yesterday’s post was prophetic. today i reek of onion and not even the tiniest whiff of cookie is seeping through. i feel masked, unlike myself, and also slightly nauseated.

and now, a story in two parts.

part one: i decided on sunday that it would be a good idea to make beef stew in my crock pot. yes, i own a crock pot. and i use it. i also covet this because then i could make individual banana breads. (i’m excited just thinking about it.) so this morning i had to assemble the ingredients, which include softened onions. so i cooked some. this morning. in my pajamas.

and despite my best efforts, the stink persists, through a change of clothes, deodorant and subtle perfume! i’ve washed my hands 236145 times so now they’re chipping off in delicate onion scented flakes.

i can only pray that the stink has followed me here and not permeated every fiber of my apartment and its contents. nobody likes a cat who smells like dirty armpits. even if he licks your neck for elongated periods of time while you’re sleeping, then crawls up on your pillow and chews your hair into a nest.

part two: last night Boy and i were preparing the ingredients for beef stew. i had a big knife. that was my first mistake. i was cutting a potato while hopped up on prescription drugs. that was (possibly) my second mistake. so then i cut a big slice right through my thumb/thumbnail. blood and starch make neat red bubbles. ooooh science! that’s not really the story, but i though maybe i could get some pity. on three- 1,2,3 pity!

anyway, after we cut up all the celery and potatoes and carrots and onion (evil eye) we put it all in little containers till this morning, and then cleaned up, throwing all the ends and icky parts down the disposal. which we then ran for a good two minutes, but the death sounds emanating from within never ceased. so i stuck my hand in.

i turned it off first. geez, how stupid/insane/drug-addled do you think i am that i would put sharp things so close to my delicate hands? oh, right.

apparently the disposal saw fit to digest all the veggibles, but then it invoked some sort of demonic powers to separate the meat from the gristley parts and then whip up some fat batter.

it’s like toffee, pulled and yanked and reconstituted, but instead of yummy sugars, with icky gelatinous animal fat.

and because i love you of course, here are some pictures.

i totally touched that! i am so bad ass! roar!

i am an onion, please don't cry

i am consumed with car purchasing issues. i have no brain left. thus, this delicious meme came by way of spinning girl. please know there is a photogrpahic essay at the end of this post.

after you have read it, i will open comments for questions. you may ask me anything, but i cannot assure you a completely unexaggerated answer. of course, i cannot assure you that it won't be the truth either.

commence peeling.

layer one
name: miss kendra
birthdate: september 29, 1980
birthplace: beverly, ma
current location: los angeles
eye color: blue-green-grey
hair color: superior preference 3, soft black
righty or lefty: righty
sun sign: libra
innie or outtie: very innie. i once smuggled drugs in it. true story.

layer two
heritage: my birth mother is a russian jew and my birth father is a cute little puppy dog. that’s why i am so irresistible. actually, i’m pretty sure he’s irish catholic. my mom used to say they got married to piss off their families and had me to piss off one another. i am truly the product of love.
shoes you wore today: four inch bettie heels. black.
your hair: in need of cutting. graduated bob.
your weakness: carbohydrates. diet coke. the extra bones in my feet.
fears: dogs falling from overpasses, things with more than four legs, never being able to knit again, dying alone and being eaten by my cat
your perfect pizza: pepperoni, or mushroom/green pepper, or meatball and sausage. if only i could have one more day with cheese.
one thing you'd like to achieve: simultaneous multiple orgasm.

layer three
your most overused phrase: clearly!/i know/i can be such an apple whore
your first waking thoughts: i hope the dog hasn’t peed yet
the first features you notice in the opposite sex: eyes, swagger
your best physical feature: eyes, smile, immense succulent brains
your bedtime: 10:00 – 1:00 (sliding scale)
your greatest fear: being unloved and unimportant and forgotten
your greatest accomplishment: standing up for myself and putting a bad man in prison, even though he might get paroled soon (dammit!)
your most missed memory: riding around aimlessly in friends’ cars on summer nights with no curfew and no rules and no shoes

layer four
pepsi or coke:diet coke
single or group dates: who goes on group dates? are we ten?
adidas or nike: chuck taylor or vans
lipton iced tea or nestea: chai tea
chocolate or vanilla: vanilla, but i can’t eat icecream so this is a weird one for me
cappuccino or coffee: coffee only because it has no milk. but coffee speeds up my faerie system.

layer five
smoke: used to. sometimes i miss it. i quit most recently when i met Boy- i still keep the pack i had when we met. it’s probably pretty gross now, but if we break up, you better believe i will smoke it.
cuss: holy shit, do i!
sing: whenever possible. though i have not done karaoke since moving here, which saddens me in ways i cannot ever explain.
take a shower everyday: yes
have a crush: julius boon. see below.
been in love: i sure hope so
went to college: i am a bachelor of science and a master of arts!
liked high school: not at the time, but i would go back for a week if I could. i would shave my head and pierce my face (again and more) and make out with anybody i wanted to.
want to get married: someday
believe in yourself: occasionally.
type with your fingers on the right keys: somewhat. my left pinkie gets ignored a lot.
think you're attractive: sometimes. moving to los angeles has not really been kind to me in that way.
think you're a health freak: are you kidding? i drink diet coke with my breakfast.
get along with your parents: the adoptive ones.
play an instrument: piano, some guitar, some saxophone, vocal cords

layer six
in the past month, did you...
drink alcohol: yes
smoke: i just cleared that one. i smoked in vegas. so no.
do a drug: i’m on drugs right now!
make Out: yes
go on a date: yes
eat an entire box of Oreos: only in my dreams.
eat sushi: yes
been on stage: no
been dumped: no
gone skating: no
made homemade cookies: yes
fall in love: every day. *sigh* ::vomit::
go skinny dipping: no
dyed your hair: yes
stolen anything: splenda packets and a chamomile tea bag?

layer seven
have you ever...
played a game that required removal of clothing: i only strip for money.
if so, was it mixed company: i’m gonna say yes.
been trashed or extremely intoxicated: yes
been caught doing something: by something you mean what exactly? i’ve been caught doing many things.
been called a tease: yes
gotten beaten up: yes
shoplifted: yes
if so, did you get caught: once. but nothing happened.
changed who you were to fit in: you can’t hide this kind of weird.

layer eight
age you hope to be married: i don’t know, but i desire to have 50th anniversary.
numbers and names of children: i can’t tell you. they are so immensely clever i know you will steal them, and i don’t want to put you in that situation.
describe your dream wedding: elvis!
how do you want to die: i don’t. nothing too painful i guess. but dramatic might be nice.
what do you want to be when you grow up: happy
what countr(ies) would you most like to visit: japan, thailand, australia, ireland, morocco

layer nine
number of men i have kissed: only one. but many many silly boys.
number of boyfriends you've had: what constitutes a boyfriend?
number of drugs taken illegally: at once? a lot.
number of people i could trust with my life: 3
number of CDs that i own: i tried to count but it hurt. we’ll go with atleast 400.
number of piercings: i’ve had 22. i wear 8.
number of tattoos: that depends. i have one really ginormous one in progress, and several smaller ones. maybe 11?
number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: a few
number of scars on my body: many. this is a project i will leave to the mortician.
number of things in my past that i regret: regret to the point of considering changing history? just one.

now enjoy the pictures. the cuteness is so immense it might crush you.

his paris pose
blair witch! bats in the cave!
objects on this bed are bigger than they appear
i dream of greenies
hi! i'm pickles. let's be friends.
do you like to pee? i like to pee. let's pee.
full frontal
the morning after
woke up next to a man named julius boon
blurry is beautiful
don't look at me!
cute
cuter
cutest


don't forget--- you can ask me anything!

pimping my ride

so i don't even have a new car yet, but i've decided that i want to paint something on the side. i should find someone who customizes cars or does air brushing or is maybe even an artist, but probably i'll just use blue tape and spray paint.

i've narrowed it down to either a smattering of stars (semi boring, but like my tattoos), a swallow (like my tattoos), or a jolly roger.

sub question- if i do the jolly roger, will someone take offense and kill me?

i have to go berate the insurance lady now.

i am busy. amuse yourselves.

ten top trivia tips about miss kendra!

1. every day in the UK, four people die putting miss kendra on.


2. native americans never actually ate miss kendra; killing such a lovely prey was thought to indicate craziness.


3. if you drop miss kendra from more than three metres above ground level, she will always land feet-first!


4. ancient greeks believed earthquakes were caused by miss kendra fighting underground.


5. US gold coins used to say 'in miss kendra we trust'.


6. the first toy product ever advertised on television was mr. miss kendra head.


7. miss kendra is born white; her pink feathers are caused by pigments in her typical diet of shrimp.


8. in the spanish edition of cluedo, miss kendra is the victim!


9. you should always open miss kendra at least an hour before drinking her!


10. the condom - originally made from miss kendra - was invented in the early 1500s.

i am completely unaware of -
do tell me aboutherhimitthem

please know that i was seriously tempted to correct the word order in number one but that i didn't. which could be an indication of my lessening neuroses. or my growing laziness. whichever.

the insurance lady, whom i like to call "peggylee," totaled my car yesterday. when they took off the wheel etc, they discovered lotsa the damage and figured it was better to let the car go than to prolong its suffering.

*sniff*

i am not sure how much i'm getting for it, but now i have stress over what sort of car to buy. i've done some thinking, and i'm pretty well convinced i'd like a car that has power locks and windows, cruise control (which i'm hoping will not only control my cruising speed but also repel scientologists and their assorted trolls), a moon roof, some snappy rims and a bright shiny paint job. preferably black or silver.

unfortunately, it will probably have no engine.

but that's cool right? engine shmengine?

here's a secret. i know very little about cars. i am very smart (i can totally read!) but here is the summation of my car know-how:

- sometimes i should change my oil.
- tire pressure is more important than you think.
- this one is real pretty.

my dad picked out my (now defunct) car because really, i don't care. if it goes and has the usual stuff and doesn't make people laugh at me when i roll by, i'm good. i kinda want to do something like this to it anyway. but with less flowers and more pirates.

yeah.

true story.

it began like any other gray and gloomy saturday morning, except that reverend ray was here and so we got to go out for breakfast. but still gray. gloomy. and saturday.

we went to the firehouse cafe in venice and sat down at the counter. no hint as to what was to come. <---foreshadowing. Boy and the reverend discussed beer and the incredibly pertinent points of the case "rolls royce v. bentley." i waited silently for nourishment.

this is because i am useless to everyone without food in my belly. i am brain dead and very angry, a shrill harpy with gnashing teeth. i require turkey sausage and breakfast potatoes if i am to be the beauty with whom you are all acquainted. turkey sausage now!

approximately 13 minutes after we entered, Boy nudged me and whispered the sweetest words i am ever to hear. he looked deep into my eyes and held my hand and said quietly, "herr james caan kam gerade herein." but maybe in english.

"james caan just came in."

to the firehouse! for food! this was especially shocking because i thought james caan needed no food. james caan eats only to appear mortal.

i immediately scribbled a note on my napkin to give to the waitress. in my best "i'm-not-crazy-please-believe-me" handwriting i wrote

dear james caan

i like you. check here if you like me too.

sincerely, the girl in the leopard coat at the breakfast counter

then my sausage came so i ate it.

the waitress (who was not of the "i'm-really-an-actress-please-believe-me" variety as evidenced by her habit of actually being nice to people) returned my note and i held it in my hand for brief few moments of golden anticipation.

the check mark glowed with a preternatural light, probably because james caan has a pen filled with human souls. james caan takes them from the undesereving and james caan doesn't ask first.

of course i jumped up from the counter and ran into james caan's arms where we persisted in making out until the gray skies cleared and sun burned through. the clouds were a little thin but they got it together and fluffed right up. it was james caan's will.



*disclaimer* elements of this story may be fabricated- maybe- but james caan is for real.

i didn't see a wedding ring. anyone interested?

several lifetimes from now, when i can finally look back upon my time in l.a. with fondness, or maybe at least with out bile and chunks of organ spewing from my every orifice, i will recall this particular visit to the gas station with uncommon warmth in my heart, for it is a tableau in every detail, a snapshot of the finest this city has to offer.

for reals, yo.

on friday afternoon i stopped to get gas. i spent twenty five dollars to fill a less than ten gallon tank. bitches! of course this particular gas station is of the complete-and-total-rip-off variety, otherwise known as BenDover’s Gas and Cigarettes, what with the 50 cents for a cup of ice on hot days, 75 cent fee to use your atm card, and certain loss of limb for questioning such policies, etcetera, etcetera. but hey, that’s l.a. and i will suffer through that to get gas at a fraction of a cent less.

because that’s how i am. because gas is costly, suckas.

and also because my car was dinging at me, “low fuel! low fuel!” it’s made of popsicle sticks and red jello that can’t stand up to a strong wind but it’s computerized to ring and ding and click and swoosh whenever i push a button or breathe too deeply in its presence. right then, i would have sold Boy into slavery just to make it stop. in other news, i find that this diet of pills and lingering pain seems to be making me short of patience and sort of irritable. this is shocking.

anyway. there i am, in the gas station, patiently waiting in line to pay for gas that i will then pump into my rental paper-bag-on-wheels. it takes several minutes to work the gas cap you know. it cannot be opened by mere mortals. it’s spring loaded. and it has teeth.

so there i am, all innocent-like, when this girl walks in and goes up to the bullet-proof glass partition to shout at the man inside that she needs to use the bathroom.

she looks like this:

although had she combed the dead bugs from her hair
and been somewhat less tom cruise/courtney love-level crazy
she would have been totally cute. any takers?
don't answer until you finish the story.
really.

he points her in the general direction and goes back to helping the customers who are waiting, but she looks at him with fireballs shooting from her eyes and shouts again, “can i get a token?”

to which he replies, “no, this is a pay bathroom.” because yes, this is a pay bathroom. a gas station pay bathroom into which she was going to walk WITH NO SHOES. she might as well just marry a federline.

instead she flails all epileptic-like for a minute, her life jacket making big-thigh swooshie sounds, and then she screams, “are you kidding me? i have to pay to use the fucking bathroom even though i’m buying fucking gas?” which, unrelated, is even more expensive than premium unleaded because, hello, it’s fucking. you can’t even get it in the middle east. i think it’s the kind of gas they’re finding in alaska.

and then the gas station man says yes and continues ringing up the thirteen jabillion scratch tickets that belong to the woman in front of me. here’s where it gets really good.

the girl then presses herself up against the plastic fishbowl cage the man sits in and repeats her earlier rant. except with more fucking, and a neat little end capper. it went like this:

“you mean to tell me i have to fucking pay to use the fucking bathroom? i can’t fucking get a fucking token even though i’m buying fucking gas? that’s so fucking jewish!”

and still, no shoes.

then she stormed out, clearly besting the attendant with her display of pure class, pumped her three dollars worth, got in her beat-down 93 hyundai and sped off into the cheeto-colored sunset.

band aid post

i will post for real later today. until then, please enjoy this highly inappropriate game that requires sound, and should probably not be played at work.

simon swears

this just in!

my friend the reverend ray is flying in from boston tonight.

the insurance guy dealing with my car just called and said that the estimate has now been changed from $4000 to $6000. and counting.

ha ha.

ha.

in other news, some hobo hooker memed me.

which is good, because really, i got nothing. my brain is FRIED.

it's a five weird habits thing.

one: i am obsessed with tweezers. i have like seven pairs. i carry them with me everywhere. everywhere. just in case. if i discover a stray hair it must be plucked immediately or i will play with it all day, pulling it, scraping it, trying to yank it out with my fingers. and sometimes teeth.

two: i like to dip my burgers and sandwiches in ketchup instead of putting the condiment right on. it's a generally accepted fact that i use far too much ketchup.

three: i make up harmonies to songs while singing in my car and imagine singing them as duets. this is my version of a fake oscar speech.

four: i have my septum pierced and i clean it twice daily with either alcohol, peroxide, or dial. because i am afraid of it starting to smell. because it's in my nose and how awful would that be?

five: this week, being home from work, i have been watching judging amy with the zeal usually reserved for my consumption of crack cocaine. that tyne daly. i love her.

who do i have to screw to be one of jerry's kids?

because i need a telethon.



seriously. would it be inappropriate to solicit donations at this point? keep in mind i live in l.a., so my full set of teeth and lack of brain-liquifying odor means i would be a real upgrade from the usual beggar.

also, the new pills are not that great.

and i have to take a decent picture of myself, because i look like a before photo there.

cocksuckers, every one.

everyone i met today sucks.

the parking attendant at the hospital lost my keys and i spent two and a half hours in the parking garage trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

to this, and to the insurance people who won't pay me my lost wages as they come so that i can afford my rent, i say:

gnome more waiting, gnome more puns

this was a tough competition, made all the more difficult by my inability to remain lucid while self-medicating. note to self: mixing over-the-counters does not a prescription-effect make. although it does provide some great entertainment.

(on that front, i will be visiting the orthopod tomorrow, and if he/she dares tell me there is nothing wrong, i will beat him/her to death with whatever objects I can wield using only my good arm.)

and now, the long awaited results of the second * golden state * contest:



in fifth place: we find common wombat’s “ferdinand frankel.” like wombat, i am partial to the name ferdinand. i am not sure what this says about me, or wombat, but i’m confident that it’s not good.

fourth place: dead puppy’s “al gergnome.” which coincidentally, made me go all nerdy and briefly consider “gene gnome,” before realizing that i am now officially someone my boyfriend would have beaten up in middle school. excluding, of course, the fact that i am hot and my rack would have distracted him even then. (b cup by fourth grade! holla!)

third place: is maenwyn’s “gnome chomsky.” i understand that this appears to be along the same lines as the last submission, but come on. “gnome chomsky?” rules do not apply.

second place: goes to the illustrious grend31 for “sir dimbkin punfoodle, esq.” it is pretty clear that the gnome is educated. i wasn’t sure if he was an esq or an md, but you don’t carry around books like that for no reason. it’s like we’re supposed to believe he likes to read. seriously. who reads?

and in first place, the blue ribbon, the big cheese, the head honcho, the the winner and gnamer of my gnome (not a euphemism): moocow, who introduced us to

fjorken van der bean,
riding a poorly-clipped* in sea monkey at sunrise.

obviously.

and because i do like prizes, of course there is shwag! who doesn’t like getting oddities in the mail from virtual strangers?

unfortunately, due to my current circumstances, i am unable to afford prizes or each of my winners. thus, only the cow gets a tangible prize, whilst the rest of you get my admiration. which is not for resale. even on ebay.

and what does moocow get exactly?

this awesome t-shirt, which is on its way to his door. here’s to hoping it convinces some lucky girl to make the babies.

chillin with my gnomies






*goddammit i need photoshop on this crap computer. msn paint sucks giant poo balls.

weekend plans

i have on my christmas shoes today. Boy bought them for me. you are jealous.



i am appalled that it took me this long to find this google image so clearly meant to be mine.

gnomes! pickles! together, finally in harmony.

in semi-related news, it is possible that i will be revealing the winners of the gname that gnome contest this week, so if you have any late blooming ideas, please enter them now.

it is also possible that i will be found in a gutter wearing something from here*, offering myself to strangers for six hundred dollars and a few more vicodin.

i guess we'll see!



* i totally want my own stripper pole. the polished stainless steel pro pole, because i deserve the best.

practice makes perfect

behold the neck!




today is day one of miss kendra minus cervical collar. and may i say ouch. thank you.

in other news, i was inadvertantly tagged for three memes today. so i have done them all, but deleted any repetetive questions. this is how i will practice my "better blogging." you know, the kind without misery and relentless hatred for the world as a whole.

so.

jenla demanded an avatar of ugly. while i was tempted to show them she who is known only as the beast, i figured maybe i should try anew. so i did.


that's a whole lot of ugly.

then monkeygurrrl hit me with:

two names you go by
1. miss kendra
2. she of magnificent light and beauty

two parts of your heritage
1. crazy
2. drunk

two things that scare you
1. growing up to be crazy or drunk on a permanent basis. i’ve already screwed that up a little.
2. flavor flav’s grill

two things you are wearing right now.
1. red cardigan with sparklie buttons
2. bettie shoes. and yes, i do think four inch heels are totally work appropriate.

two of your favorite bands or musical artists (*right* now – subject to change in the next 5 minutes)
1. rolling stones
2. rachel yamagata


two things you want in a relationship:
1. trust
2. good great amazing unparalleled crazed monkey sex

two truths
1. bad things happen to me a lot.
2. trix are for kids.

and by way of tinapopo, spinning girl, and some lovely others...

[A is for age:]
25. that’s halfway to fifty. i’m almost dead. seriously.

[B is for booze of choice]
vodka or coconut rum in crystal light. only because morphine, while a liquid, tastes like doo.

[C is for career]
i have no career. i have a job. a crap one. other than that, i have recently found myself knitting, sewing, and stimulating the genitals of tiny kittens.

[D is for your dog's name:]
worldwide pickles! zeke mcpickles! pickles-san! el pickleso! nipples!

[E is for essential items you use everyday:]
diet coke, contacts or glasses, clothes (maybe), crack cocaine, sarcasm, mortar to strengthen the wall surrounding my cold dead heart.

[F is for favorite song at the moment:]
i honestly don’t know, but “paint it black” is stuck in my head.

[G is for favorite games:]
the one with the safe word

[H is for hometown:]
i have no hometown. i moved quite often. my parents live on the the north shore of massachusetts.

[I is for instruments you play:]
i used to play the piano...some saxophone, some guitar. mostly people. i play them like fiddlesticks. or jacks, if jaks wasn’t the worst game ever.

[J is for jam or jelly you like]
welch’s grape. sometimes. and i would totally like strawberry if someone picked out all the seeds.

[K is for kids?:]
two, pickles-san, and julius boon. that’s right. he has a first name now. he told me when i was all sloppy on vicodin and i totally believe him. i have to- he had a knife.

[L is for last kiss?:]
on the shoulder this morning, as Boy leaves for work whilst i lay sleeping.

[M is for most admired trait:]
i’m tall? does this mean the trait i have or the trait i admire? because i admire the ability to use one’s left shoulder.

[N is for name of your crush:]
julius boon, suckas! he’s mad hot.

[O is for overnight hospital stays:]
i got lead poisoning as a kid and was in an oxygen tent. this could explain a lot of things. also, i once got my head cracked open with a tire chain. cuz i’m a brawler.

[P is for phobias:]
spiders. this is not to be used against me at anytime, for fear of retaliation. so don't forget boon has a knife.

[Q is for quotes you like:]
this could take all day. sometime i will make a post of clever words other people like to use because i am neurotic (a little) and i collect them like the little jewels of discarded celebrity chewing gum that is later sold on ebay. except words have less value on ebay. in the mean time, this is what came to mind:

by the time you swear you're his,
shivering and sighing,
and he vows his passion is
infinite, undying -
lady, make a note of this:
one of you is lying.
-dorothy parker

[R is for biggest regret:]
i don’t really have any. not asking for more vicodin?

[S is for sweets of your choice:]
animal crackers, tofutti cuties, the meaty insides of Boy’s mouth (good with merlot)

[T is for time you wake up:]
6:45 to walk pickles

[U is for underwear:]
yes! hurrah! i am wearing some today! it must be a holiday. they are black boyshorts.

[V is for vegetables you love:]
green beans, broccoli, cucumbers, green peppers, asparagus, squash (all colors and types), brussel sprouts, fiddleheads, zucchini, onion, tomato (fruit!) etcetera

[W is for worst habit:]
lazy. too lazy to tell you how lazy.

[X is for x-rays you've had:]
teeth, skull, neck, shoulder, chest, finger, knee, ankle, foot. i am accident prone.

[Y is for yummy food you make:]
gumbo, lasagna, chicken pot pie, shepherd’s pie, chicken marsala, chicken picatta, meatballs, banana bread, oatmeal cookies. you name it, i will make it. regular and faux-vegan style.

[Z is for zodiac sign:]
libra. this seems inherently wrong, as i am the prototype for extreme when it comes to feelings, thoughts and personal behaviors, although i am remarkably balanced, impartial and diplomatic when it comes to the lives of others. this dichotomy further proves my extremeness, as well as my tendency to overanalyze and use big words when ever possible.

~fin~

foiled again

i am home from work today again, as my attempt to go back yesterday proved to be far too much for ye olde neck and shoulder injuries.

i finally got through to the orthopod's office and after being questioned rather rudely by a bitchy receptionist i was told that since i have no health insurance, i will need to pay th "initial consultation" fee up front.

don't worry though- it's only about six hundred dollars.

and even better, i'm only down to my last three pain killers, which is fine, really, considering i wasn't crying last night. and because i totally have someone i can call to get a new prescription right?

best of all, my blog is becoming a bitter bitter place to be.

this is why i temper it with gratuitous photos of cute aminals.

behold, and i promise i will try to place nice in the future.

(forty minute later)or not, because blogger hates me and denies my uploads.

so read my bitching and shut the hell up about it!

a tail of three kitties

before i was damaged by the angry gods of chevrolet, i had a singular goal in mind. it was so glorious and innovative and i wanted it more than i want more pills right now.

or maybe not. this shit hurts, yo.

all i wanted was for the ignorant house-on-wheels living, chef boyardee eating, newport light smoking, white jeans and purple granny panties wearing assholes around the corner to stop dumping a bag of cat food on their sidewalk and allowing the neighborhoods 2873156018347 strays to dine vegas style.

now i have a new dream. i dream that those same individuals, the “responsible humans,” will drown in a sea of pee and liquid poo, after having to stimulate the genitals of orphaned kittens left on the sidewalk by retards who think that putting a tupperware lid full of milk two feet away is enough to get three week old unweaned kittens through christmas in the fucking jungle.

christmas morning, Boy and i go to take pickles out. as this is the first thing we generally do in the mornings, we are still in pajamas. we are casually being pulled around the neighborhood when lo and behold:

those people must be evil because damn, we cute dog.

i can’t help it. they were raised on the streets of los angeles. they tend to stick together. they might be in a jailhouse gang.

this is where i give a big shout out to los angeles county animal control, who told me that not only would they not come get the kittens, but that if i brought them in, they would be euthanized. it’s nice to see that the lack of compassion here doesn’t just extend to people, and continues with great fervor through the busy holiday season.

and this is where i get in the car (still in my jammies) and get smooshed, which i will not really discuss except to say that immediately following the kerpow i was screeching like a crazy cat lady that the fireman better get the kittens out of the car and are they ok, ohmygodarethekittensallright, ohmygod ohmygod. overall i think i presented myself well, what with the people in kansas hearing my screams and the poor folks in the neighborhood of the smooshing watching my jammie clad self freaking out on the curb. at least i was wearing a bra.

when the car got towed away, some very kind strangers drove all five of use home for a night of fur, fun, and as i would come to know later, fleas.

this is dora, otherwise known as
Boy’s new girlfriend.

she had him at hello.

this is the bumble who likes to
make noise and gnash his jaws.
also pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

this is the cheat.
the cheat is chubbie.

this is the cheat eating from a visine bottle because
stupid pet stores are stupid closed on stupid christmas.

in closing, the kittens were way cute and now live in a kitten finishing school until someone adopts them and takes them home to love forever and ever, where as i still live in the fucking ghetto with a limited supply of painkillers and ever increasing pain and bitterness.

that's what i like to call a christmas miracle.