Thursday, May 29, 2008


So I'm in between job1 and job2 of today, both babysitting because thats my life apparently.
Today was really weird on all accounts, it was just like The Universe Tape Side B I don't get it.
I got off the bus and immediately walked past a fucking Krisnha, robe and all. Wow big deal. No. The big deal is that he was on a cell phone. A KRISHNA. On a CELL PHONE.

So wrong to me.
Then I came into my apartment and wondered what time the bomb exploded around my bed, then I remembered how drunk I managed to get last night between 7 and 1130pm.
That is another story.

Anyway I come into my room and naturally turn on my computer because I'm a loser, and the little icon shows up that I still have a dvd in there. I can't get it out. Its David Blaine Streetmagic.
Thats not the funny part.
This isn't meant to be funny.
I realized the parallel of this homo dvd being stuck. I watched it wasted in bed with the last dude i Slept with. Capital S because we didn't just Sleep we did other bed related things.
Now I can't get it out. The dvd I mean, not the dude. I also can't watch it. Not that I WANT to watch this dvd, its just the balls that I have no choice in the matter.
If you can't tell this isn't just a story about the movie.
Its a life lesson put that shit in your pocket. (Thats what I'm saying to myself, you don't have to give a shit about this lesson cause you'll get your own when you need it)
I am my computer.
A fucking mess with crappy dvds stuck in it, serving NO purpose, just getting in the way of the RIGHT DVD which now can't even be viewed. The End.
Not that this guy was/is that bad, hes not. Backtrack!

Anyway I have all these pictures and they all stink, the ones I took stink I mean.
My friends are great at that stuff, making nights and days seem special with their expensive cameras and understanding of light.

This is my favorite sign.
It blinks. Faster than necessary.

Last night I was over on the west side drinking svedka and sweating like a filthy pig.
I was also wearing high heels which I thought would make me look foolishly overdressed, little did I know they would be fashion plates evrawherrrrrre.
Trust fund girls in fake Louboutins and bright orange/yellow/blue/purple dresses.
Stephanie pointed out that they all look like dinosaurs.
Fashionsaurus Rexes.
Those bitches.
I am mostly jealous that I'm poor, but also grossed out at their fake tans and chickenbone appendages.
I think about 85% of the men there were gay, and the only slightly attractive "straight" men there I had already slept with or would never sleep with.
Not that thats why I go out. Its not.
Speaking of gays, I saw Fat Jew Josh which was a nice surprise.
I wish he was gay so everything about him would make sense.
He slipped on the floor and laid there talking to someone he knew all nonchalant trying to play it off. It made me really uncomfortable that he was so comfortable.
I am tired of boys who wear too many accessories.
That has nothing to do with anything but I mean it.
Seriously stop it.
The belt buckle AND the hat AND the watch AND the paint speckled Ray Bans AND the one-of-a-fucking-kind Jordans AND the facial hair AND the necklace AND the bandana AND the hospital bracelet AND the quirky ring meant for chicks.
Stop it.
Its overwhelming my vagina and now she hiding because shes scared of your accoutrement.

Speaking of hiding my vagina, Will is disgusting.
I guess thats what you get when you allow your nipple to be put on display.

This is it in full glory. Olivia is the star because she has actual talent, but I also like the idea of someone paying money to have my busted nude self shitty drunk in my moms backyard hanging on their wall.
Arts for Suckers!
Just kidding arts great.
Until the auction is over and someone writes "AMERICAN APPAREL ON ACID" right under the photo in black Sharpie.
Great, super nice.

Once again with the denim. He loves it!
Also check out Murphs boobs in the background.

This picture is totally pointless except to show this place was huge.
I think there were about 4 thousand artists with their shit on the walls.
I enjoy.

Olivia tells us she still hasnt washed her hair since we went upstate.
This is Stephanie being dramatic about it.

Jess is pretty and a good singer and she always remembers peoples names even when shes met them once like 9 months ago. Thats the sign of a classy bitch.

Everyone in Livs family looks the same.
Its frightening.
Maude was wearing an awesome onesie and had crimped hair.
So Irish and so weird.
She tried to tell us later at a bar on 35th street that in Ireland they say things CORRECTLY as opposed to us Americans saying things wrong.
The example used was from a poster on the wall for the movie Oedipus.
Maude says "EEEEEEEEEdipus".
Everyone else at the table said "EDipus"
Shut up Maude.

Olivia is looking at her own photos with this face.
That is funny to me.

There may never be a photo of she and I that is not repulsive or insane.

Denise and Jiwon and Kaitlin and Corinne and Naomi and all those lovely things came and stayed for about 20 minutes it seemed like.
They were not trying to hang.
To her credit Denise is sick. And was also wearing a cute yellow skirt. Nice try.
And Kaitlin was with some boy I SUSPECT is the one from school she used to say cute things about. Yesssssssssss.
Naomis boobs looked big but I say that every time I see her.
Sad point of my life is when I see Jay and he asks me where my bottle is. When I tell him I didnt bring one he suggests I call it a night.
For fucksake please tell me I am not that girl.
Maybe I am. Gross.

Sidenote: Gallery shows hiring bouncers/asshole door guys is the worst new trend in the universe.
Please stop.
People are pushing to get in because they don't know why you are even THERE telling them NOT to push to get in.
The pushing happens when you pick and choose who to let through the door.
It doesn't help that there was a huge jerkoff element in the crowd for the evening.
It felt like LA.
Sorry LA friends, but its true.
No one likes that about your city.
Its just icky, the whole hierarchy of entry.
Moving on.

When you sort of shuffle down the flights of stairs and walk 10-15 blocks to a bar this is the kind of pictures you get in the street.
A bunch of blurry girls.
I wrote some club songs on our walk, mostly about Chevy Chase and something about douche for your teeth.
I swore on my life I would never have the conversation, but somehow we ended up deciding who of us are which Sex and the City character.
I know.
Gross. Cliche. Pathetic.
Liv was pissed that shes obviously Miranda because she makes good money and has a nice boyfriend.
Then we decided who we are from Beverly Hills 90210 and I was born to be compared to Brenda. She has the shittiest attitude ever to appear on television.

I had a cheeseburger at Livs uncles bar and it was one of the best I've ever had.
I think it is the reason I was able to actually get into a cab and take my sorry haggard ass to bed at a decent time.
But I hate the west side because it cost me 16 dollars to get home.

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