wherein i am a paper doll

have you ever seen that show “how do i look?” it’s hosted by blossom's step mom (public service announcement: do not name your child finola) and is pretty much boring, but i like the part where they make the poor victim makeover candidate dance around in outfits allegedly chosen by friends, but that were (quite obviously) actually chosen by a blind carnie in some sort of zombie-hobo themed dart game.

usually i like the shoes. zombie hobos are notorious for their taste in shoes.

my point is: this post is where i dance around in front of my camera so that you can see the bare-bones of my potential holiday ensembles. i say bare-bones because there are purses not pictured (well, not made yet actually) and of course you should know that my hair and makeup will be much more involved, probably ending up something like this:


but you know, with some flowers or feathers or something.
and probably bigger.

the only reason i didn’t do my hair up for your benefit is that i wanted to you to take a moment in appreciation of this:


note the intense look of surprise (or whatever it is
that happens when you use self timers.)
is the pineapple really back?
where has is been?
did it find what it was looking for?

and now, our feature presentation.

option one: sequined pants


pros: hello, sequins!?!?!?! also, comfortable shoes.
shirt could end up black for a slimming
monochromatic effect.
this outfit requires a fascinator.

cons: is this more new year’s eve?
if so, i need to make plans immediately
because these pants demand attention
and copious amounts of liquor.
also, kissing.


option two: black velvet


pros: i look hot and thin.
in other news, this dress is soft and i want to pet myself.

cons: is this festive enough, or should it be
reserved for a potential date (see above)?



option three: goldfinger


pros: sparklie! very retro.
matching shoes and hair doodad.

cons: shoes aren’t the most comfy.
also, not sure i want to be remembered as
the girl in the naked dress.



option four: minty fresh


pros: sparklie! green!
matching shoes and hair doodad.
shoes are christmas miracle!*

*they’re a size nine. nine! and they still fit over my giant snowshoe feets!

cons: will i be warm and itchy in a wool & metallic dress?
dress needs to be altered (which I can do, so it’s not really a con).


option five: you wish


pros: coat can be trusted to stay on.

cons: i can not.

let the voting begin!

note: the coat is not actually an option. now take your hand out of your pants.

i'm serious, people

i don't know that you understand the severity of the situation. my holidaygoodness list go so unwieldy that i had to make it into a four-tabbed excel worksheet, for my own sanity.

tab one is your names and addresses, sorted alphabetically in groups of how i know you. (family, local friends, bloggers.)

tab two is your preferences for color and the like. (reminder: this may or may not have influenced what gift you receive. for instance: if you like blue, too bad. cvs gift cards are red, and only red.)

tab three is your names and corresponding gifts, sorted by type and complexity of gift, as well as supplies needed. completed gift cells have been greyed out.

tab four is your names and corresponding gifts sorted by delivery method, whether it be shipping, regular mail, packing for my trip to MA, or local.

what's that??? why yes, yes i am insane.

for those of you looking to reciprocate, i do have an amazon wishlist, as well as strong desires for pretty clothing from some places in my sidebar. that said, i would also be incredibly thankful for giftcards to target or ikea, considering i will be getting my own place soon (please! soon! hurry! ) and will need to fill it with assorted useful and non-useful crap for my cats to knock over while i'm sleeping.

coming soon: my office has a holiday party and i cannot decide what to wear.

nuggets

i was going to call this post tidbits, but i think nuggets is more fun. (see nugget:chicken :: this post:real blogging.)

now open your booklets and begin.

i want to go to night one of this so badly. there are some good bands on night two, and some extra shitty bands (fall out boy) for the first show, but i think overall night one suits my tastes more. dave grohl is my secret lover (LOV-ah) you know, and i was unable to attend the afoostic show a few months back. this is my chance at redemption. and yes, i like my chemical romance. now that it's out in the open, i pretty much have to go get an afterschool job at hot topic. can i borrow your black wristlets to cover my emo-ness, because if anyone sees me this way i will positively die.

anyway, i want to go so badly that i would go with anyone, and i mean ANYONE, who offered me a ticket. i would go with hitler. i would go with anne coulter. i would go with kevin federline. of course, he'd be beaten to death at the door, so that might be my best bet. ticket sales information will be released thursday, and here's to hoping i can (a) afford a ticket, and (b) actually buy one before they sell out to scalpers.

clever transitional sentence!

there is a hierarchy of pharmacy stores. it goes like this, from best to festering cesspools of disease and questionable product placement:

cvs
duane reade
sav-on
walgreens
rite aid

i apologize if i missed a local favorite- those are the biggies i am familiar with. rite aid is the grossest. it is always dirty and requires security guards. cvs is the best one, with its brightly lit aisles and nice smells and carpet. carpet!!! do you even know how often you have to clean carpet in a high traffic store? in los angeles????

the reason i bring this up is that cvs recently arrived in LA, and i am happier than i have any reasonable right to be. it's like a little piece of home, all shiny and clean, and it pleases me so much that i'm tempted to roll around in the makeup and skincare aisle moaning with joy. atleast until a month from now, when it becomes irreversibly sullied by the fetid patrons of the city. sigh.

further transition in festive pun!

i was pretty much a holidaygoodness machine this weekend, and finished nearly everything. right now the holdouts are fairly unsurprising, and two of the three should be done by week's end.

that said, i filled out all your cards and bullshit, and i pretty much sucked at that. the saddest part is that i just accept it. i made like 80 gifts this year, and chose things especially for youse guys, so feel lucky i even put your silly names on the damn things. i wrote some nonsense (feel even luckier if yours is in english!) and by the end of the 30th card my penmanship was like a third grade boy's. also, i've cleaned the gifts as best i could, but any stray julius/nimoy hairs should be considered an additional (and priceless) gift for you to enjoy. AND YOU WILL ENJOY.

now i just have to figure out the cheapest possible way to ship this crap off, and we'll all be happy. atleast until you figure out that your gifts are all $5 cvs giftcards wrapped in catfur and my acoustic desperation.

happy thanksgiving!

with busy busy love,

miss kendra
rabbi julius boon, phd
leonard nimoy

for the love of god, coddle me

my lungs are thick. i simply must find a fainting couch or confine myself to bed immediately.

now, a story.

next door to a lovely local yarn store that i enjoy visiting, there is a questionable looking building, sans windows, and with but one lonely sign hinting at what lies within its darkened doors. the building and its sign are pure white, and in a most uninteresting serif font the sign reads simply, "roman holiday." mostly i ignored this place. until...

one day last week, my coworker asked me to accompany her to the yarn store and help pick out supplies for her own goodness endeavors. we got some burritos (i love burritos. i could eat like ten right now) and headed off to fondle the glorious yarns. as we approached the building, i made sure to point out the odd roman holiday place and suggest possible explanations for its ominousness. ominousity? whatever.

then i suggested we go in. much to my surprise, she agreed, and in we went. once safely past the heavy (and again windowless) door, at a glass-encased counter much like one would find in a liquor store in say, south central, we found a small man who eyed us suspiciously and then listed roman holiday's services. then the inner door opened and i couldn't help but glance inside.

i thanked the man for his information, and pulled my friend out the door and into the yarn store, where i tried desperately to make the memories go away. i was placated with some lovely julius colored malabrigo, which is now a lovely julius colored purse. the comfort only lasted so long though, as the memories swiftly returned.

because where you're from, roman holiday might be a classic audry hepburn movie, but where i live, it's a gay bath and health spa (as described by the man behind the glass) where i can see someone's naked grandpa on my friday afternoon lunch break.

i have an icicle in my pants

also, a cough.

*cough cough*

i'm sick. don't those germs know i am VERY BUSY??? there is holidaygoodness to be made! and i, unlike some people, do not have a whole sweatshop to assist me. there are labor laws you know.

also, a meme, via nick at the sac.

5 Things You Don't Know About Me That Should Probably Remain That Way.

"Sure, it's a long name, but it's worth every penny."

1) i like to eat refried beans all by themselves, and animal crackers dipped in diet coke. also, cereal with apple juice. and sometimes, just ketchup. for no reason.

2) i have trichotillomania, but this is probably all i will ever say about that. *edited* i don't pull out my head hairs or my eyelashes or anything. i'm just very very thorough with my tweezers. very.

3) i have only been on two real dates in my life, and they were both awful.

4) when i was sixteen i stole a disposable plastic speculum from the doctor. for what, i do not know. it was there, i was there. i was young and curious and a semi-professional thief. so i took it.

5) i am considering purchasing an epi-pen and a slice of pizza.

send delicious soup and vegan cookies.

the war of the roses *UPDATED*

*i corrected the errors, and also, i just thought you all should know i've decided to start responding to comments again. that is all.*

this past weekend, at Chez i'm-gonna-stab-you-in-the-eye-if-you-don't-stop-
talking-oh-say,-right--this-fucking-minute, there were a few moments where i thought my most recent post might be my last, because i'm pretty sure they don't let you blog from deathrow, although i could be wrong because this is california.

then i got to thinking about how deathrow might not be that bad, because shirley bellinger got to knit right up until they snapped her little neck. and lord knows that's a lifestyle i could get behind.

anyway, friday night i went to the drinking place (TheKennedy was in attendance) and i escaped after only one drink. here's the tradeoff- the work friend with whom i was talking, that sly minx, hugged him on his way out, creating tear in the space time continuum allowing for my immediate transport to that delightfully awkward place where it only becomes more obvious that i want to sniff him if i don't hug him like she did. minx.

and i had my giant bag, and you can't just put down a giant bag in a bar, so i hugged him from a strange angle that forced his arm to graze my boobs (unintentional!) and then drove home in a panic, trying desperately to smell myself as if i were a stranger. what do i smell like at 8pm on a friday?

the people in traffic next to me must have thought i was having a seizure as i tried to watch the road from the inside of my own armpit. not surprisingly, i still smell like cookies... and silent suffering. which, incidentally, smells like cookies. we've come full circle, and all is well.

upon my arrival at home, exBoy was out. when i traveled back in internet time (via the underused ALT+H command), i discovered his recent re-sign-uptitude (shut it) to matchdotcom. this was something i was expecting, despite his lingering advances, but i wasn't excited to see that his profile is, in summary, looking for (and quite specifically) exactly what i am not. or that his profile picture is way unflattering. because that's a reflection on me too, you know! i spent the last three years with you, buddy! pull it together!

and gradually suddenly i realized i find it rather embarrassing that i allowed this to go on as long as it did. who is this person? and more frighteningly, who was i? how could i be even remotely shocked to see his attempts at playing both sides after all this time?

i suppose this new information, coupled with the giddiness surrounding the evening's earlier bodily contact did little to aid in my receptiveness to exBoy's encroaching on my space, but when he got back, the tiny orchestra in my head (formal attire required!) started in with a little flight of the valkyries and the application of red paint to the nipples (i said it was formal, don't act all surprised) and i so knew.

it was on.

he promptly started with the constant needling, and i got worked up, as i tend to do, because i can't seem to understand how one person could be so simultaneously arrogant, conniving, manipulative and absolutely fucking retarded (no offense). it's like magic- he's david blaine, but even more pointless. how is that even possible???? his final trick is disappearing all the good memories, one by one.

either way, i made myself feel better. he went out for a ride, and i taped over all his amateur porn vidoes with footage of my cats doing cat things, like eating, and chewing his speaker wires, and licking their own buttholes.

brothers gotta hug!

exclamation point!

why is it that i live in a hugenormous city that has everything you could possibly ever conceive of needing and many things no one will ever need, and yet i have to go drive 35 minutes out of my way to buy $6 worth of bias tape? this is where i debut (though it's really a minor example of) miss kendra luck®. as in:

miss kendra luck: it's like ebola, only worse.

i also have to go out drinking tonight. why does this happen to me? i have no money to drink with! what's the point???? AND i have holiday goodness to finish! and yet i am obligated to go. last time i went to this bar with these people, i ended up sleeping half in my bathroom and half in the hallway. for safety purposes, you know.

in other news, i have developed a crush. this is my first crush in many (3) years, and i am very nervous about the whole thing. what do i do? am allowed to speak of it here? does he get an award for being first? will it have sparkles? (yes.) i don't know the rules for this!

he is TheKennedy, and he is quite something or other. i do not know what exactly, but i assure you, it is something good. i'm enjoying this crush primarily because it just gives me something be silly about, and it is most likely harmless and fleeting. but until it flees, i get to look at him from the corner of my eye when i walk to the bathroom, and i get to instant message my friends about how he is lingering in my area and they better distract me because i am using all of my superpowers just to keep from leaning my head on him and maybe sniffing his neck just a little.

sniff sniff.

it's so fifth grade, i love it.

he just walked by.

do you think he knows? he totally knows. how could he not know? this is what he saw when he walked by:

me, in progressive shades of red.
i'm pretty sure i remained clothed though.
pretty sure.

getting down to the good stuff

i'm knee deep in holiday goodness, and i have come to the conclusion that while some of you did in fact send me valuable information pertaining to your color preferences etcetera, i have limited supplies, and so will be making you things that may have nothing to do with that information, but that i think are nice, or maybe crap, and you then will be appreciating them like you appreciate your basic american freedoms, except moreso, and without having to send people to iraq.

also, i have no idea how i'm going to ship the goodness, as i have no money, so it might be in your best interest to go hang out on your roof(s) and watch for carrier pigeons. they'll be wearing green velvet bellman hats. that's how you'll they're mine.

i think that julius and nimoy have reached a point of simultaneous health, which is shocking and yet fills me with relief. it's probably also indicative of the fact that something all together new and horrifying should be happening any minute now.

along those lines, is it possible to eat so much fruit that it causes your pee to smell like juice?

just wondering.

this is of the utmost importance

hypothetically, how many cats can a single woman have before she is too weird to be attractive to single men?

i'm not asking for any particular reason.

putting my degree to good use

(probably as a wedge for my shakey table leg.)

i have a college education. i know what you're thinking, but it's true, i swear. i have the debt to prove it. i got my bachelor's in psychology, with all of my elective courses in english (which was nearly enough to be a double major) and then, because i had passion and talent and most importantly, no desire to get a job, i got a master's degree in writing.

WRITING.

of which i do none.

which is sort of a problem, so i signed up for NaNoWriMo, as threatened. thus far, i have 200 words, of which the majority are fuck. excerpt:

"fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck. why the fuck did i sign up for this fuck?"

the problem is, i have no inspiration. i have no point. i have no plot. i have no interest in anything at the moment, other than finding someone to give me money for no reason other than that I NEED IT, and possibly inventing vegan cheese. because i also need cheese.

really, i've written some jibberjabber about disappointments and the pleasure palace that is other people's chewing gum. trust me on that one. why can't this be NaPoWriMo? i'm good at cranking out little poetic gems. i'm concise! i am the master of 20 lines or less. novels are too much exposition. all those useless words... like pronouns and conjunctions. crap! all crap!

that's why i appreciate vivid (as in strong or intense, not as in- and i mean "in"- jenna jameson) novels. though his more recent work has been sub par, reading tom robbins always struck me as reading an enormously long poem- the visual sense of his words was that totally overwhelming. his plotlines may have been convoluted, his characters more caricatures, but i liked it. there was an undeniable appreciation on his part of the language itself and the way in which one word can completely change the connotations and history and entire makeup of a phrase, sentence, or story.

karen hesse's out of the dust is another sort of novel i would be interested in trying... a novel made up entirely of poems. poems that create an intimate portrait of a difficult time in a family's life, and in a way that is better executed than a great number of more traditional (and well-received) novels. here, let's give it a try.

fuck
fuckfuckfuck fuck
why the fuck did i
sign up for this

fuck.

yep. i like it.