Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wainy Days
Best Show Ever.
On the internet.
This is an awesome episode.
I think you should trust me by now, since I have an absurdly keen sense of humor, that this is MORE THAN WORTH YOUR TIME ASSHOLE.
Its 4 minutes. JDI. just do it (whisper that part)
laugh track
On the internet.
This is an awesome episode.
I think you should trust me by now, since I have an absurdly keen sense of humor, that this is MORE THAN WORTH YOUR TIME ASSHOLE.
Its 4 minutes. JDI. just do it (whisper that part)
laugh track
Making peace with a mouse
I'm either being super emotional today, or this is just the truth.
Not sure which one.
Maybe I'm trying to get back on Gods good side after tearing David Lynch a new asshole with my mind raping wit.
OK this is what I'm talking about for right now, emotional or not.
Samantha West is my special friend.
I always say I don't have a best friend, but if I did say those things I would say it about her.
You know when you start to spend a lot of time with someone and you get a friend crush, and you talk about how awesome they are all the time?
I don't remember the last time I thought about Sam that way because loving Sam is like loving your mother, its just not something to explain.
You're not like, "Oh yeah I love my mom because shes smart and funny."
You love your mom period.
Which also gives you the right to think she is a total fucking pest but the idea of no mom or no Sam is like the idea of no food or no bed or no kissing or no juice or no dreams.
Just not in the cards.
I feel like we used to take photos a lot more than we do now.
I don't like to be caught off guard or revealed or opened up.
I don't like to be sober or somber or real or scared or soft.
That places limits on things I would say.
So Sam and I planned to do photos all weekend basically and put it off until late Sunday afternoon which turned out to be a bit of a magical, albeit, dark moment in time. Rain and thunder and lightening are great for vibes not for producing great light.
She smokes, I drink, we always end up the same way, a little shitty, shitty meaning good.
Somehow after an hour or so it is typical that I end up naked or dancing or dancing naked, and Sam is hard pressed to catch a moment where I don't have my glass in my hand. Thats a bit pathetic but why don't you try staring into a lens with someone you love behind it. not an easy task.
Its a very private thing, photography, and I don't think its shit when TyTy Baby says on Americas Next Top Model , "You have to work at this."
You totally do!
I try to think of things like NOT FROWNING.
That is hard for me because essentially I am a scowler frowner. I always look like something in the very near vicinity stinks, literally or figuratively.
But Samantha's great power overcomes all scowl obstacles and she makes me look like a tiger or a diva or a clown or exotic or gentle or young or like a creature from the sea.
Its a one in a million chance with a girl like me I think.
(I lie, its two in a million because Olivia can get it as well. Truthies.)
Who is this?
I don't know her.
But shes a sly fuckin fox no doubter
Who hurt this baby prostitutes feelings?
This is like living cocaine.
Boudoir!
(Should you be so lucky)
(unlucky)
I'm a constant eye toucher. At least here its interesting and not just a tourettes thing. Or a singular tourette. One tourette!
I can't wait to type this because it is so fucked up.
But.
It's always better when you can't see my face.
Zing!
Crouching Tiger, Total DBag.
That is what I look like when I perform Darling Nikki by Sir Prince Rogers Nelson.
If you would like Samantha to take your portrait you should pay her because shes not a god damn amateur.
She stays up all night editing and thinking and seeing things in a very beautiful way. Then suddenly there is this person, and they are hardly the person they thought they were when she shot them, they are something they would rather like to THINK they are sometimes, when they are at their most alive.
Sorry. Barf.
Cue swelling orchestra music
http://samanthawest.net
Not sure which one.
Maybe I'm trying to get back on Gods good side after tearing David Lynch a new asshole with my mind raping wit.
OK this is what I'm talking about for right now, emotional or not.
Samantha West is my special friend.
I always say I don't have a best friend, but if I did say those things I would say it about her.
You know when you start to spend a lot of time with someone and you get a friend crush, and you talk about how awesome they are all the time?
I don't remember the last time I thought about Sam that way because loving Sam is like loving your mother, its just not something to explain.
You're not like, "Oh yeah I love my mom because shes smart and funny."
You love your mom period.
Which also gives you the right to think she is a total fucking pest but the idea of no mom or no Sam is like the idea of no food or no bed or no kissing or no juice or no dreams.
Just not in the cards.
I feel like we used to take photos a lot more than we do now.
I don't like to be caught off guard or revealed or opened up.
I don't like to be sober or somber or real or scared or soft.
That places limits on things I would say.
So Sam and I planned to do photos all weekend basically and put it off until late Sunday afternoon which turned out to be a bit of a magical, albeit, dark moment in time. Rain and thunder and lightening are great for vibes not for producing great light.
She smokes, I drink, we always end up the same way, a little shitty, shitty meaning good.
Somehow after an hour or so it is typical that I end up naked or dancing or dancing naked, and Sam is hard pressed to catch a moment where I don't have my glass in my hand. Thats a bit pathetic but why don't you try staring into a lens with someone you love behind it. not an easy task.
Its a very private thing, photography, and I don't think its shit when TyTy Baby says on Americas Next Top Model , "You have to work at this."
You totally do!
I try to think of things like NOT FROWNING.
That is hard for me because essentially I am a scowler frowner. I always look like something in the very near vicinity stinks, literally or figuratively.
But Samantha's great power overcomes all scowl obstacles and she makes me look like a tiger or a diva or a clown or exotic or gentle or young or like a creature from the sea.
Its a one in a million chance with a girl like me I think.
(I lie, its two in a million because Olivia can get it as well. Truthies.)
Who is this?
I don't know her.
But shes a sly fuckin fox no doubter
Who hurt this baby prostitutes feelings?
This is like living cocaine.
Boudoir!
(Should you be so lucky)
(unlucky)
I'm a constant eye toucher. At least here its interesting and not just a tourettes thing. Or a singular tourette. One tourette!
I can't wait to type this because it is so fucked up.
But.
It's always better when you can't see my face.
Zing!
Crouching Tiger, Total DBag.
That is what I look like when I perform Darling Nikki by Sir Prince Rogers Nelson.
If you would like Samantha to take your portrait you should pay her because shes not a god damn amateur.
She stays up all night editing and thinking and seeing things in a very beautiful way. Then suddenly there is this person, and they are hardly the person they thought they were when she shot them, they are something they would rather like to THINK they are sometimes, when they are at their most alive.
Sorry. Barf.
Cue swelling orchestra music
http://samanthawest.net
Monday, July 28, 2008
Fuck that guy
This is the first installment of Fuck that guy.
It is the brainchild of myself and Stephanie Porto in which we talk shit about a widely acclaimed man, mostly out of pure ignorance and or bitterness.
(Please refer to Stephanies blog as well to see her reasoning for fuckery)
I am proud to say, the first victim of Fuck that guy will be Mr. David Lynch.
This one is close to my heart because seriously; fuck that guy.
Smug bastard.
OK, Blue Velvet for starters.
Dennis Hopper is a great actor so how did you make him look so bad?
What is with the script?
What is with all the desexification of sexytime?
Great job making me NEVER WANT TO DO ANYTHING SEXY EVER AGAIN.
Its like the opposite of porn. They should show Blue Velvet in high schools to deter kids from gettin on tappa theat.
Rant number two.
I OWN the movie Dune but have never gotten all the way through it.
I was like Oh, a movie with Sting?
It will be like when Bowie was in the Labyrinth! Jareth part two.
No. Absolutely not Jareth part 2.
Dune is very very stupid.
I could see a 12 year old boy getting a little boner tingle from all the sword fighting and alien bullshit, but cmon now. It actually reminds me a little bit of the directorial style of Power Rangers.
PS, great job not being able to think of weaponry on your own. The glowy fighting sticks are a direct copy of Star Wars. Which I also hate, by the way.
Another movie I can't finish? Lost Highway.
Why does every single thing said in every single shot have to be campy?
I feel like I'm watching evil soap operas.
With slow mo bedroom scenes.
And Patricia Arquette looks terrified over nothing for the first 30 minutes of the movie.
None of it makes any sense, and maybe I'm just not arsty enough, but as I have clearly stated before, art is very gay.
That whole scene where the old vampire looking guy makes the other guy use his phone to call him like "Hey call me I'm in your house right now." But hes also standing right there? What? I can't even explain the scene correctly that how retarded it is.
Ok, David Lynch, you are either on drugs all the time or you just write nonsense down and kiss it and say , "This! Is! Fan! Fuckingtastic!"
Then we all watch it because you got a lifetime achievement award for your shitty shithole shit movies.
I think the very nature of labeling shit you make as your "art" is annoying.
Especially when your name is David Lynch.
Can I direct/produce/write films?
No.
Have I been nominated for a gay Oscar?
Absolutely not my friend.
But fuck that guy.
Fuck that he dated Isabella Rosselini. Then somehow lost hold of that. Great.
You know what, its for the best because he is old and grumpy and has bad hair.
The following video is of him ranting about watching movies on iphone.
UGH. SPIT IT OUT PEPAW! How long does it take to say "I hate technology???"
Why did he bother making this video?
Oh.
Because fuck him?
Yes exactly.
He is such a cranky grandpa and he is obviously pissed that if you watched HIS movies on iphone, you would throw up all over the screen and ruin it, or you would fall asleep from boredom, have a nightmare about the movie, wake up, and THEN throw up on said iphone.
In both scenarios, your awesome iphone is now garbage. Just like his movies.
Hey, master of the cinematic universe?
Just wondering why you do commercials for cars, video game systems, and fashion houses like Gucci.
Because you're an Oscar nominated genius?
Yes thats what I thought all along.
You're totally above commercialism.
"If you wanna catch the big fish, you've gotta go deeper."
Direct quote from David Lynch.
Really?
Wow because making PS2 commercials is so so so deep. So abstract. You didn't do a good job.
Because you are a hypocrite.
Fuuuuu-uck. you.
By the way, my favorite work you've ever done David Lynch?
This pregnancy test commercial
WOW.
What a genius.
I can see why everyone thinks you're tops.
Also, side note.
Your voice is very annoying to me.
In closing.
Fuck this guy.
It is the brainchild of myself and Stephanie Porto in which we talk shit about a widely acclaimed man, mostly out of pure ignorance and or bitterness.
(Please refer to Stephanies blog as well to see her reasoning for fuckery)
I am proud to say, the first victim of Fuck that guy will be Mr. David Lynch.
This one is close to my heart because seriously; fuck that guy.
Smug bastard.
OK, Blue Velvet for starters.
Dennis Hopper is a great actor so how did you make him look so bad?
What is with the script?
What is with all the desexification of sexytime?
Great job making me NEVER WANT TO DO ANYTHING SEXY EVER AGAIN.
Its like the opposite of porn. They should show Blue Velvet in high schools to deter kids from gettin on tappa theat.
Rant number two.
I OWN the movie Dune but have never gotten all the way through it.
I was like Oh, a movie with Sting?
It will be like when Bowie was in the Labyrinth! Jareth part two.
No. Absolutely not Jareth part 2.
Dune is very very stupid.
I could see a 12 year old boy getting a little boner tingle from all the sword fighting and alien bullshit, but cmon now. It actually reminds me a little bit of the directorial style of Power Rangers.
PS, great job not being able to think of weaponry on your own. The glowy fighting sticks are a direct copy of Star Wars. Which I also hate, by the way.
Another movie I can't finish? Lost Highway.
Why does every single thing said in every single shot have to be campy?
I feel like I'm watching evil soap operas.
With slow mo bedroom scenes.
And Patricia Arquette looks terrified over nothing for the first 30 minutes of the movie.
None of it makes any sense, and maybe I'm just not arsty enough, but as I have clearly stated before, art is very gay.
That whole scene where the old vampire looking guy makes the other guy use his phone to call him like "Hey call me I'm in your house right now." But hes also standing right there? What? I can't even explain the scene correctly that how retarded it is.
Ok, David Lynch, you are either on drugs all the time or you just write nonsense down and kiss it and say , "This! Is! Fan! Fuckingtastic!"
Then we all watch it because you got a lifetime achievement award for your shitty shithole shit movies.
I think the very nature of labeling shit you make as your "art" is annoying.
Especially when your name is David Lynch.
Can I direct/produce/write films?
No.
Have I been nominated for a gay Oscar?
Absolutely not my friend.
But fuck that guy.
Fuck that he dated Isabella Rosselini. Then somehow lost hold of that. Great.
You know what, its for the best because he is old and grumpy and has bad hair.
The following video is of him ranting about watching movies on iphone.
UGH. SPIT IT OUT PEPAW! How long does it take to say "I hate technology???"
Why did he bother making this video?
Oh.
Because fuck him?
Yes exactly.
He is such a cranky grandpa and he is obviously pissed that if you watched HIS movies on iphone, you would throw up all over the screen and ruin it, or you would fall asleep from boredom, have a nightmare about the movie, wake up, and THEN throw up on said iphone.
In both scenarios, your awesome iphone is now garbage. Just like his movies.
Hey, master of the cinematic universe?
Just wondering why you do commercials for cars, video game systems, and fashion houses like Gucci.
Because you're an Oscar nominated genius?
Yes thats what I thought all along.
You're totally above commercialism.
"If you wanna catch the big fish, you've gotta go deeper."
Direct quote from David Lynch.
Really?
Wow because making PS2 commercials is so so so deep. So abstract. You didn't do a good job.
Because you are a hypocrite.
Fuuuuu-uck. you.
By the way, my favorite work you've ever done David Lynch?
This pregnancy test commercial
WOW.
What a genius.
I can see why everyone thinks you're tops.
Also, side note.
Your voice is very annoying to me.
In closing.
Fuck this guy.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
quesadilla ese?
Ok so I found out a few things last night with Pam at about midnight.
One thing. Reading statistics is amazing.
There is country in the middle east where ONE THIRD of all marriages are a result of abduction.
As in, "I think its time I get a wife, I'll just go bind gag and steal me a pretty little one."
I should get my passport renewed and trot over there right now.
Ok another amazing fact: There are 126 men to every 100 women in Lower Manhattan.
Hi! Really!?! Cause WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?
Are they all hiding in an apartment somewhere snickering about how they have tricked us into thinking they don't exist?
As I said to Pam last night, single men in New York are unicorns, they are urban legends, they are love gnomes, they are definitely not real and they are a glorious figment of our imaginations.
According to statistics reports from last May....I am wrong. They are here.
Probably all in Tribeca counting their money and having their housekeepers iron their underpants.
I refuse to tell what we did after we looked at statistics (vitalstatistics.org ) because it is something all women research, but never ever admit to. I will just say, it was absurdly girly and ridiculous and I don't even want to be that person again. The ice around my heart melted which makes me uncomfortable.
The point is, it gave me the full body giggle. Which is like. When you're so excited you tap your fingertips on your face really fast and you can't really breathe.
In my next life I do not want to be born with a vagina because it creates an abundance of sentiments.
In case I don;t sound creepy enough yet, I also checked the lunar calendar for today, and its a good day for being gentle and helping to heal others.
How about that?
But I'm fucking terrified for Tuesday because this is what the lunar calendar predicts..."A very dangerous day. Be aware of criminals. Save your energy - do not argue, do not be active today. A good day for fasting and cleansing."
OH. MY. GOD.
What???
I trust and follow astrology, but that is really extreme. It makes me want to put on a baby onesie and hide under my bed.
Now I want to take a shower to wash off my fear.
And i want to eat a quesadilla.
Pam told me she listened to a podcast thing where a grown man said he thought for his whole life that Quesadilla meant "what the deal?" in Spanish.
Cutest thing ever?
Yes.
Aside from kittens sleeping on top of big dogs.
One thing. Reading statistics is amazing.
There is country in the middle east where ONE THIRD of all marriages are a result of abduction.
As in, "I think its time I get a wife, I'll just go bind gag and steal me a pretty little one."
I should get my passport renewed and trot over there right now.
Ok another amazing fact: There are 126 men to every 100 women in Lower Manhattan.
Hi! Really!?! Cause WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?
Are they all hiding in an apartment somewhere snickering about how they have tricked us into thinking they don't exist?
As I said to Pam last night, single men in New York are unicorns, they are urban legends, they are love gnomes, they are definitely not real and they are a glorious figment of our imaginations.
According to statistics reports from last May....I am wrong. They are here.
Probably all in Tribeca counting their money and having their housekeepers iron their underpants.
I refuse to tell what we did after we looked at statistics (vitalstatistics.org ) because it is something all women research, but never ever admit to. I will just say, it was absurdly girly and ridiculous and I don't even want to be that person again. The ice around my heart melted which makes me uncomfortable.
The point is, it gave me the full body giggle. Which is like. When you're so excited you tap your fingertips on your face really fast and you can't really breathe.
In my next life I do not want to be born with a vagina because it creates an abundance of sentiments.
In case I don;t sound creepy enough yet, I also checked the lunar calendar for today, and its a good day for being gentle and helping to heal others.
How about that?
But I'm fucking terrified for Tuesday because this is what the lunar calendar predicts..."A very dangerous day. Be aware of criminals. Save your energy - do not argue, do not be active today. A good day for fasting and cleansing."
OH. MY. GOD.
What???
I trust and follow astrology, but that is really extreme. It makes me want to put on a baby onesie and hide under my bed.
Now I want to take a shower to wash off my fear.
And i want to eat a quesadilla.
Pam told me she listened to a podcast thing where a grown man said he thought for his whole life that Quesadilla meant "what the deal?" in Spanish.
Cutest thing ever?
Yes.
Aside from kittens sleeping on top of big dogs.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Did you forget what team I'm on?
L.A. Jew Josh is pretty great.
I don't like it when he tells me how unhappy I am or that I should go to AA.
But its all said out of love so I can't actually be mad about it.
I will go to AA for one reason and one reason only.
To pick up ex party dudes with long hair and bad tattoos.
You can quote me on that.
I don't really have anything else to say except that Josh and I laugh until I can't breathe anymore when he comes to New York.
We do grossly sexual things in a non sexual way.
I'm fluent in Jewish gesturing.
I want to take this opportunity to bring back the photo of the Last Supper at the Olive Garden.
I digress.
I was making this about me, did you see that?
Josh. Josh time.
We also both do a great impression of Crusty the Clown trying to show his penis to kids.
Josh was present for the INVENTION of the accent that led to "i wanna get on tappppa yas!!!!"
In case you didn't know, I have an entire act that follows that sentence.
Also Josh lets me interpret his dreams. And he tells me when I'm being shitty without hurting my feelings.
He doesn't get mad when I make up songs about him looking like a total jewbag.
He has the pointiest nose ever.
He is doing a great job at being a human.
Josh does the Moonwalk really well.
Here he is on tv being fucking cuuuuu-ute.
Also that white lady is the best rapper ever.
I need to hear Funky Undies.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
My soul smells.
I really don't know where to start.
I'm so overwhelmed by myself.
I'm an overwhelming person.
Overwhelmed underwhelmed can you ever just be whelmed?
Isn't that from a movie?
Also I like it when Steve Carell as Michael Scott says, "Me? Superstitious? Ehhhhh, welllll, I wouldn't say that...I'm just a little stitious."
So good.
Wait oh yeah.
So I still can't talk about AC because I'm gathering photos as we speak.
Oh they are exciting.
My vajay is tingling at the thought.
Last night I went out dumb dumb dumb idea.
Whenever there is some shit to do at like 7pm I'm like... no sweat, I will get drunk early, home by 10.
Funny joke to self.
I literally sped home after work to take a showie because I fucking stink. All the time. But Amber told me about the whole baking soda in the armpit so I'm actually on top of the world at this point.
So really I don't stink its just all in my mind.
Yeah so story.
I scrub I put on the same thing I wear every time I leave the house including the paper hat (you can't tell its paper fuck off everyone wants to know where I got it)
and I make a drink.
Then call a car five minutes later.
This is what I look like when I'm panicking.
Why was I panicking?
Because I hate having to take cars anywhere.
I had to bring my drink with me to fill my heart with relief.
Some gallery super far westside on 21st has free booze and djs and snacks and Virgins are performing. None of that means anything to me except a) booze and b) friends
Me Sam Alex Jiwon and Denise hang out many hours.
We are also joined by Luke Barber Smith aka nice guy smitherton.
Thurston Moore is not a good dj. He plays a lot of noise. Actual noise. No words or anything. How ambient. You didn't do a good job.
Kirsten Dunst was around again.
I feel like its the twilight zone.
Or the movie Groundhog Day.
The lines for the bathroom were like nothing I had ever seen. You would think they were giving out bars of gold to anyone who could take a peepee.
Once me and Jiji got in there I wanted to take my sweet ass time so I took some pictures. The bathroom was basically the size of an apartment. Great.
There were tiny delicious cookies and tiny ice creams. The Virgins were loud. Maybe because I'm stupid and I always stand in front of the speaker.
I liked the lights personally.
I want to speak shortly for this blog.
Shortshortshortshortshort and quick.
Alex face funny. The End.
We took turns playing ugly face I think.
I win here obvi.
Tbones does not like close ups.
I don't like her hand in my face.
Looks like we are at a cross roads.
We may have to throw away the friendship.
Oh wait no.
Phew.
Delish-Ass Jiji
Oh yes. The open bar was Ketel One or Moet. Guess what I drank. 5 or 6 of I think.
Ketel and Red Bull.
Nightmare?
Yes.
I ended up going around the corner with my fwends to watch them smoke the weed and urinated in a doorway. I thought that was HILARious. Then I talked about Prince for a half hour and said I want to do sexytime things to him.
Then I did an imitation of how I danced in utero when my mom played his records while preggie.
Jiwonji nearly vomited from laughter. I wish I could sit one out and let someone else in my skin so I could watch myself, it looks really amazing.
I bet I would like it a lot.
That shit really was over at 10 and I was kind of sad because the gallery was absolutely packed with handsome waspy boys from Chelsea. Boat shoes and button downs galore. Wasps are the new rockers. Get with it duderbous.
I am totally into getting taken out to dinner and proposed to after a year of lovely courtship.
Then I want to move to a nicer apartment and be a good wife and play dress up sexies and have a great stereo system.
Also I want to get nice birthday presents I would never buy for myself.
Dreams are like cute little mice that wear tshirts you decorated with a mini bedazzler. It just feels so so good to hope for something that would be noooooormaaaaaaaal.
I want to be normal they should have classes for that I would go.
I want to one day marry a republican.
THERE.
I said it.
Opposites attract and then have killer make out seshies.
This is all prompted I think by a recent make out sesh with a guy who loves John McCain. Guhhhhhhhh.
But good kissers can vote for whoever the fuck they want, they just need to make sure they smooch more that they discuss politics.
Bad kissers are like looking at dead dogs or getting the flu.
Gross.
What else?
Oh then I decided we needed to get in cabs to go the Sweet P because its so close to home.
Yesssss R Kells just came on shuffle.
Anyway there were literally 3 people inside. The rain was amazing last night by the way.
Picture does not display the insanity.
Downpour.
Wash away the cocaine and the tattoos.
We drank weird shots that tasted like berry burps and we put sour patch kids in the bottom.
Thanks for the freebies girlfriend.
Totally xo
D looks like Powder!
I had to give her two back rubs to get her to take shots.
Is that fucked up?
I think it might be.
I ate Simons art.
It sucked anyway!
Why didn't you puke Krissy?
Oh because I was too busy having a shit fit of excitement upon hearing Talking Heads come on.
Aggressive dancing always makes people laugh.
I love dancing.
I wanna try that again with exclamation point.
Now say in my voice:
I love dancing!
Then do something weird with your hips.
Because thats how its working out in my mind.
I just got uncomfortable that there are no pictures of my BFFFFFFF Pam from last night.
That bitch was avoiding me.
I hate her.
JKJKJKJKJKJKJKJK!
I need to go food shopping.
Was my story over?
I don't know.
But I walked home and called like 400 people, all mistakes.
Hi someone needs to babysit me with my cell phone. I'm THE worst.
I also bought a bag of chips that cost $4.50
Thanks a lot New York.
You're the ill dick.
I went to work late.
The End.
Ps If I was a man I would want to be John Legend.
Or the hot Japanese samurai bum around the corner.
He is a hard mother fucker.
I'm so overwhelmed by myself.
I'm an overwhelming person.
Overwhelmed underwhelmed can you ever just be whelmed?
Isn't that from a movie?
Also I like it when Steve Carell as Michael Scott says, "Me? Superstitious? Ehhhhh, welllll, I wouldn't say that...I'm just a little stitious."
So good.
Wait oh yeah.
So I still can't talk about AC because I'm gathering photos as we speak.
Oh they are exciting.
My vajay is tingling at the thought.
Last night I went out dumb dumb dumb idea.
Whenever there is some shit to do at like 7pm I'm like... no sweat, I will get drunk early, home by 10.
Funny joke to self.
I literally sped home after work to take a showie because I fucking stink. All the time. But Amber told me about the whole baking soda in the armpit so I'm actually on top of the world at this point.
So really I don't stink its just all in my mind.
Yeah so story.
I scrub I put on the same thing I wear every time I leave the house including the paper hat (you can't tell its paper fuck off everyone wants to know where I got it)
and I make a drink.
Then call a car five minutes later.
This is what I look like when I'm panicking.
Why was I panicking?
Because I hate having to take cars anywhere.
I had to bring my drink with me to fill my heart with relief.
Some gallery super far westside on 21st has free booze and djs and snacks and Virgins are performing. None of that means anything to me except a) booze and b) friends
Me Sam Alex Jiwon and Denise hang out many hours.
We are also joined by Luke Barber Smith aka nice guy smitherton.
Thurston Moore is not a good dj. He plays a lot of noise. Actual noise. No words or anything. How ambient. You didn't do a good job.
Kirsten Dunst was around again.
I feel like its the twilight zone.
Or the movie Groundhog Day.
The lines for the bathroom were like nothing I had ever seen. You would think they were giving out bars of gold to anyone who could take a peepee.
Once me and Jiji got in there I wanted to take my sweet ass time so I took some pictures. The bathroom was basically the size of an apartment. Great.
There were tiny delicious cookies and tiny ice creams. The Virgins were loud. Maybe because I'm stupid and I always stand in front of the speaker.
I liked the lights personally.
I want to speak shortly for this blog.
Shortshortshortshortshort and quick.
Alex face funny. The End.
We took turns playing ugly face I think.
I win here obvi.
Tbones does not like close ups.
I don't like her hand in my face.
Looks like we are at a cross roads.
We may have to throw away the friendship.
Oh wait no.
Phew.
Delish-Ass Jiji
Oh yes. The open bar was Ketel One or Moet. Guess what I drank. 5 or 6 of I think.
Ketel and Red Bull.
Nightmare?
Yes.
I ended up going around the corner with my fwends to watch them smoke the weed and urinated in a doorway. I thought that was HILARious. Then I talked about Prince for a half hour and said I want to do sexytime things to him.
Then I did an imitation of how I danced in utero when my mom played his records while preggie.
Jiwonji nearly vomited from laughter. I wish I could sit one out and let someone else in my skin so I could watch myself, it looks really amazing.
I bet I would like it a lot.
That shit really was over at 10 and I was kind of sad because the gallery was absolutely packed with handsome waspy boys from Chelsea. Boat shoes and button downs galore. Wasps are the new rockers. Get with it duderbous.
I am totally into getting taken out to dinner and proposed to after a year of lovely courtship.
Then I want to move to a nicer apartment and be a good wife and play dress up sexies and have a great stereo system.
Also I want to get nice birthday presents I would never buy for myself.
Dreams are like cute little mice that wear tshirts you decorated with a mini bedazzler. It just feels so so good to hope for something that would be noooooormaaaaaaaal.
I want to be normal they should have classes for that I would go.
I want to one day marry a republican.
THERE.
I said it.
Opposites attract and then have killer make out seshies.
This is all prompted I think by a recent make out sesh with a guy who loves John McCain. Guhhhhhhhh.
But good kissers can vote for whoever the fuck they want, they just need to make sure they smooch more that they discuss politics.
Bad kissers are like looking at dead dogs or getting the flu.
Gross.
What else?
Oh then I decided we needed to get in cabs to go the Sweet P because its so close to home.
Yesssss R Kells just came on shuffle.
Anyway there were literally 3 people inside. The rain was amazing last night by the way.
Picture does not display the insanity.
Downpour.
Wash away the cocaine and the tattoos.
We drank weird shots that tasted like berry burps and we put sour patch kids in the bottom.
Thanks for the freebies girlfriend.
Totally xo
D looks like Powder!
I had to give her two back rubs to get her to take shots.
Is that fucked up?
I think it might be.
I ate Simons art.
It sucked anyway!
Why didn't you puke Krissy?
Oh because I was too busy having a shit fit of excitement upon hearing Talking Heads come on.
Aggressive dancing always makes people laugh.
I love dancing.
I wanna try that again with exclamation point.
Now say in my voice:
I love dancing!
Then do something weird with your hips.
Because thats how its working out in my mind.
I just got uncomfortable that there are no pictures of my BFFFFFFF Pam from last night.
That bitch was avoiding me.
I hate her.
JKJKJKJKJKJKJKJK!
I need to go food shopping.
Was my story over?
I don't know.
But I walked home and called like 400 people, all mistakes.
Hi someone needs to babysit me with my cell phone. I'm THE worst.
I also bought a bag of chips that cost $4.50
Thanks a lot New York.
You're the ill dick.
I went to work late.
The End.
Ps If I was a man I would want to be John Legend.
Or the hot Japanese samurai bum around the corner.
He is a hard mother fucker.
Monday, July 21, 2008
I've seen this happen in other peoples lives and now
I can't talk so I may as well blog.
I have the worst case of party voice is history.
I sound like Kathleen Turner after eight packs of cigarettes.
It actual gives me a headache to do anything other than whisper.
Thursday night I went to the Sephora ten year party which was complete shit if you want to know.
There was some red carpet claptrap going on and the poor paps were shitting themselves waiting for La Lohan to show up and support her hot gayelle Ronson. Yes, as I'm sure you can guess, I would totally beard out for Ronson. Shes fucking cute. Ask any girl who has a little affinity for the butches and they will admit... she is a tasty little one.
That being said, Pam, Katie and I waited around in line with a bunch of oldish hag women who want to feel fresh again. We were in it for the gift bags and the booze, and I am pretty sure everyone else was feeling the same way.
We got denied, yes we did, I am not scared to admit it.
The PR people were total birdbrains.
Really?!?!
Yes.
Try to contain your shock.
Whatever, Katie used her Post press pass and we went in after some mild frustration.
Nothing interesting happened inside but they had good cocktails and all the important people were upstairs probably doing coke and practicing their "I'm not amused" face.
We remained in the pit drinking for free and staring at the product piled up on shelves waiting to be ransacked.
Its like being a pirate only you're wearing high heels and you're not drinking from a jug with XXX on the label, you're drinking some shit called a Lipstick Lover in a martini glass.
Right up my alley.
Katie wore a blue ballerine dress with tiny white polka dots and got very drunk and she is officially the cutest person alive. And she's back in Mexico again which makes me want to cry a little. Home ain't home without my little gringa.
Also every man there was either gay or annoying. Or a middle eastern molester.
The above photo is simply to display that there was a man there in metallic truly metallic silver dress shoes.
Total asshole.
Maybe I just hate fashion but give me a break already. You look like a dick.
I pretended I loved them so he would let me close enough to photo them.
I also chose to once again introduce myself to strangers as Jen and decided I should tell them I'm an actress so they won't want to talk to me.
Pam strolled around looking flawless which is annoying.
So thats all that happened.
We waited and waited then propelled ourselves into the little roped off goodie section.
Then we ran away.
And went to Max Fish.
Wearing dress up clothes and carrying giant train boxes full of girl things we can't afford.
It looked absolutely retarded.
But D was there so thats great.
Then we ran into this dude who once had a thing with my friend blah blah blah hi great to see you. It was totesfun.
He was with another dude who looks like the guy from Entourage and also looks like he wears eyeliner but hes still a good looking feller if you ask me. He totally doesn't wear makeup I think its just because hes the foxy ethnic type. You know those.
Some guy at the bar was rocking his neon work out wear and rollerblades, he gave us some raspberries he picked in White Plains.
You know you're drunk when you take berries from this guy:
I recall taking a cab home which further proves I was drunk, then myself and my many friends made lots of noise in my apartment. There was a wrestling match which led to a broken table. I threw a 6 foot tall man into it. I really love that table so its more sad than it is funny. Then I spun danced for awhile and tried to learn how to do handstand, very unsuccessful I was.
This story is getting very dumb and I don't feel like going any further into it.
Also last week I went to FAO Shwartz for some retarded reason and saw what i assume to be an actual goblin working in the stuffed bear section.
He is very small yet his head is gigantic.
I think his life is probably sad and I'll bet he plays the tuba alone.
Sidenote about FAO: the big piano?? That shit costs 25 grand. Not lying. It's all because of Tom Fucking Hanks.
This was the greatest moment in that godforsaken store.
If 5 year old girls could have sex with anything, I'll bet they would pick this wall o' pony.
Speaking of sexy things, I will have to follow up later on lady weekend in Atlantic City and give all the deets except the awesome juicy fruit ones because those are top secret.
Lick your figurative chops.
I have the worst case of party voice is history.
I sound like Kathleen Turner after eight packs of cigarettes.
It actual gives me a headache to do anything other than whisper.
Thursday night I went to the Sephora ten year party which was complete shit if you want to know.
There was some red carpet claptrap going on and the poor paps were shitting themselves waiting for La Lohan to show up and support her hot gayelle Ronson. Yes, as I'm sure you can guess, I would totally beard out for Ronson. Shes fucking cute. Ask any girl who has a little affinity for the butches and they will admit... she is a tasty little one.
That being said, Pam, Katie and I waited around in line with a bunch of oldish hag women who want to feel fresh again. We were in it for the gift bags and the booze, and I am pretty sure everyone else was feeling the same way.
We got denied, yes we did, I am not scared to admit it.
The PR people were total birdbrains.
Really?!?!
Yes.
Try to contain your shock.
Whatever, Katie used her Post press pass and we went in after some mild frustration.
Nothing interesting happened inside but they had good cocktails and all the important people were upstairs probably doing coke and practicing their "I'm not amused" face.
We remained in the pit drinking for free and staring at the product piled up on shelves waiting to be ransacked.
Its like being a pirate only you're wearing high heels and you're not drinking from a jug with XXX on the label, you're drinking some shit called a Lipstick Lover in a martini glass.
Right up my alley.
Katie wore a blue ballerine dress with tiny white polka dots and got very drunk and she is officially the cutest person alive. And she's back in Mexico again which makes me want to cry a little. Home ain't home without my little gringa.
Also every man there was either gay or annoying. Or a middle eastern molester.
The above photo is simply to display that there was a man there in metallic truly metallic silver dress shoes.
Total asshole.
Maybe I just hate fashion but give me a break already. You look like a dick.
I pretended I loved them so he would let me close enough to photo them.
I also chose to once again introduce myself to strangers as Jen and decided I should tell them I'm an actress so they won't want to talk to me.
Pam strolled around looking flawless which is annoying.
So thats all that happened.
We waited and waited then propelled ourselves into the little roped off goodie section.
Then we ran away.
And went to Max Fish.
Wearing dress up clothes and carrying giant train boxes full of girl things we can't afford.
It looked absolutely retarded.
But D was there so thats great.
Then we ran into this dude who once had a thing with my friend blah blah blah hi great to see you. It was totesfun.
He was with another dude who looks like the guy from Entourage and also looks like he wears eyeliner but hes still a good looking feller if you ask me. He totally doesn't wear makeup I think its just because hes the foxy ethnic type. You know those.
Some guy at the bar was rocking his neon work out wear and rollerblades, he gave us some raspberries he picked in White Plains.
You know you're drunk when you take berries from this guy:
I recall taking a cab home which further proves I was drunk, then myself and my many friends made lots of noise in my apartment. There was a wrestling match which led to a broken table. I threw a 6 foot tall man into it. I really love that table so its more sad than it is funny. Then I spun danced for awhile and tried to learn how to do handstand, very unsuccessful I was.
This story is getting very dumb and I don't feel like going any further into it.
Also last week I went to FAO Shwartz for some retarded reason and saw what i assume to be an actual goblin working in the stuffed bear section.
He is very small yet his head is gigantic.
I think his life is probably sad and I'll bet he plays the tuba alone.
Sidenote about FAO: the big piano?? That shit costs 25 grand. Not lying. It's all because of Tom Fucking Hanks.
This was the greatest moment in that godforsaken store.
If 5 year old girls could have sex with anything, I'll bet they would pick this wall o' pony.
Speaking of sexy things, I will have to follow up later on lady weekend in Atlantic City and give all the deets except the awesome juicy fruit ones because those are top secret.
Lick your figurative chops.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Am I going to die? No, you're not going to die.
OK hey loser whatchu doin?
Oh nothing just sitting on my bed listening to Vashti Bunyan thinking about what is a good meal to cook for one.
Also counting the seconds until Netflix delivers Six Feet Under Season 1.
Really? Could you feel any more Cathy?
Yes because Crimson and Clover just came on shuffle and I just looked over at my bedside table and realized this is whats on it:
1. paperback copy of The Golden Compass.
2. A silver box with a painted mare and colt on the top.
3. a tall glass of beddytime water for when I get parched.
4. a biscotti scented candle.
5. a tiny notebook for writing notes to myself.
Wow.
I. am. a. pussy.
I feel like I should at least have a switchblade until the mattress to even things out.
But I've warned everyone close to me; I'm going through quite a spell here.
I;m having long conversations about the hotness of Jeff Bridges despite the fact that hes nearly 60. Then watching the Door in the Floor.
(if you wanna borrow it, holler, because its amazing.)
Hey Vicki Vale great job with that swift divorce from Alec Baldwin.
Jesus it still makes me sad to think of.
One minute you're Batmans chick and the next minute your crying into your gin scratching your facelift scar tissue.
Really to be honest with myself, that is me in 20 years.
If you want, you could watch something for me.
its the greatest song of all time.
I like white people I like reggae I like heartbreak I like the idea of slow dancing with yourself like a crackbaby in a dark empty bar.
All truthies.
This shit was made for just such a scenario.
Please peep the jukebox jab around 1:40mins.
Actually homeboy reminds me of Corey Haim. I love it so much.
Its all so terribly underrated.
New topic.
Fact: My favorite song to sing at karaokaaaaay! is Mr Big's ear abusing ballad "To Be With You"
It is in my perfect key.
I have what would be equivalent to a sissy man's voice.
I am a good singer, not doubting that.
Good as in entertaining and sincere.
And never terrified of any and all laughter, muffled or otherwise.
It is also Chiara's fav.
I actually think we have duo-ed it.
Sometimes when I smoke a cigarette I smell one of two things.
Bacon.
Or fish water.
Welcome to my brain on beer and an empty stomach.
I want to poll my confidants...
would it be supes nast if I went back to doing TaeBo and brought back the Madonna circa Ray of Light physique?
It doesn't seem to get much love to be honest.
Yes I did TaeBo.
Often.
Judgement will get you nowhere but Hatersville.
Also there are some days like today, where I post a blog and then say to myself, "why would anyone sit here reading this?"
Then I wonder if anything I ever say is funny or smart or meaningful then I get confused about the reality that we create to make ourselves not disappear.
Deep like squid filled waters.
Another fact:
I have found that two things are dangerous to do with men if you don't intend on sleeping together.
Watching movies.
And touching eachothers feet.
(nice feet)
Oh nothing just sitting on my bed listening to Vashti Bunyan thinking about what is a good meal to cook for one.
Also counting the seconds until Netflix delivers Six Feet Under Season 1.
Really? Could you feel any more Cathy?
Yes because Crimson and Clover just came on shuffle and I just looked over at my bedside table and realized this is whats on it:
1. paperback copy of The Golden Compass.
2. A silver box with a painted mare and colt on the top.
3. a tall glass of beddytime water for when I get parched.
4. a biscotti scented candle.
5. a tiny notebook for writing notes to myself.
Wow.
I. am. a. pussy.
I feel like I should at least have a switchblade until the mattress to even things out.
But I've warned everyone close to me; I'm going through quite a spell here.
I;m having long conversations about the hotness of Jeff Bridges despite the fact that hes nearly 60. Then watching the Door in the Floor.
(if you wanna borrow it, holler, because its amazing.)
Hey Vicki Vale great job with that swift divorce from Alec Baldwin.
Jesus it still makes me sad to think of.
One minute you're Batmans chick and the next minute your crying into your gin scratching your facelift scar tissue.
Really to be honest with myself, that is me in 20 years.
If you want, you could watch something for me.
its the greatest song of all time.
I like white people I like reggae I like heartbreak I like the idea of slow dancing with yourself like a crackbaby in a dark empty bar.
All truthies.
This shit was made for just such a scenario.
Please peep the jukebox jab around 1:40mins.
Actually homeboy reminds me of Corey Haim. I love it so much.
Its all so terribly underrated.
New topic.
Fact: My favorite song to sing at karaokaaaaay! is Mr Big's ear abusing ballad "To Be With You"
It is in my perfect key.
I have what would be equivalent to a sissy man's voice.
I am a good singer, not doubting that.
Good as in entertaining and sincere.
And never terrified of any and all laughter, muffled or otherwise.
It is also Chiara's fav.
I actually think we have duo-ed it.
Sometimes when I smoke a cigarette I smell one of two things.
Bacon.
Or fish water.
Welcome to my brain on beer and an empty stomach.
I want to poll my confidants...
would it be supes nast if I went back to doing TaeBo and brought back the Madonna circa Ray of Light physique?
It doesn't seem to get much love to be honest.
Yes I did TaeBo.
Often.
Judgement will get you nowhere but Hatersville.
Also there are some days like today, where I post a blog and then say to myself, "why would anyone sit here reading this?"
Then I wonder if anything I ever say is funny or smart or meaningful then I get confused about the reality that we create to make ourselves not disappear.
Deep like squid filled waters.
Another fact:
I have found that two things are dangerous to do with men if you don't intend on sleeping together.
Watching movies.
And touching eachothers feet.
(nice feet)
Monday, July 14, 2008
OK You're a goon but whats a goon to a goblin
Two Things:
A) this video will make you laugh. I mean that.
B) I love Lil Wayne despite his horrendous obsession with money. I would marry him if he would promise to grow a body that didn't look like this:
A) this video will make you laugh. I mean that.
B) I love Lil Wayne despite his horrendous obsession with money. I would marry him if he would promise to grow a body that didn't look like this:
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Ladies, Please don't fuck the Nazis.
I'm at a crossroads here.
I have a webstats tracker, and I see that I have had 13 unique visitors today, yet 84 views.
Basically the 13 of you who looked on here since 12 AM have done so an average of 6.46 times.
Why did you look on here 6 times today?
I am totally flattered but are you stalking me?
I hope you are because I LOVE OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES.
I have like 48 of them. I obsess over food, alcohol, penises, cats, cat penises, frowning, Marlboro ultra lights, text messages, men who have penises I like, women I'm jealous of, words, songs, intentions, babies, eyeliner, scrubbing things, bug removal, horoscopes, insults, things that make me scream. etc.
More that anything I obsess over people obsessing over me.
Because I love extreme emotion.
So please do carry on.
But.
In the instance that you're not sure if you're totes interested in looking at the same shit about how drunk I was last night or how sad I am this morning....
please divert your attention to the funniest blog ever
(other than mine)
He is famous, but I think he also probably googles himself 7 thousand times an hour, so maybe he will see he is mentioned here and we will become friends.
i think it could happen.
OK, read away.....
http://michaelianblack.typepad.com/
PS why have I taken until JUST NOW to accomplish posting direct links?
Oh right because I'm fucking retarded.
I have a webstats tracker, and I see that I have had 13 unique visitors today, yet 84 views.
Basically the 13 of you who looked on here since 12 AM have done so an average of 6.46 times.
Why did you look on here 6 times today?
I am totally flattered but are you stalking me?
I hope you are because I LOVE OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES.
I have like 48 of them. I obsess over food, alcohol, penises, cats, cat penises, frowning, Marlboro ultra lights, text messages, men who have penises I like, women I'm jealous of, words, songs, intentions, babies, eyeliner, scrubbing things, bug removal, horoscopes, insults, things that make me scream. etc.
More that anything I obsess over people obsessing over me.
Because I love extreme emotion.
So please do carry on.
But.
In the instance that you're not sure if you're totes interested in looking at the same shit about how drunk I was last night or how sad I am this morning....
please divert your attention to the funniest blog ever
(other than mine)
He is famous, but I think he also probably googles himself 7 thousand times an hour, so maybe he will see he is mentioned here and we will become friends.
i think it could happen.
OK, read away.....
http://michaelianblack.typepad.com/
PS why have I taken until JUST NOW to accomplish posting direct links?
Oh right because I'm fucking retarded.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Goodbye daylight
So.
Last night I was confronted with my ghosts.
The ghosts of New York.
They just started showing up and never left, one by one.
All the men who broke my heart a little or a lot, doesn't matter.
They were all out on the town, at EVERY BAR/RESTAURANT/ART SHOW I WALKED INTO like, "Heeeeeeey Krissy! LETS ACT NORMAL TOGETHER."
Or.
Lets not.
How about I have a panic attack instead about the idea that either my heart could explode or I could very possibly be This Way forever.
This Way means incapable of commitment and addicted to jerkoff assholes.
I don't even think I'm labeling all these guys as assholes, maybe they aren't. Its possible its just our alchemy, the way I mix up with them and create this horrible explosive craziness which leads to this sentence every time, "Krissy. I really like you. Really. Its just that I don't think I can give you what you want. I just don't want to hurt you. Also, I think you're a little too insane."
This is all very comical in hindsight, cause most of these dudes either A) have a drug problem B) are themselves TOTALLY whacked out of their gords C) think they are being nice by saying shit that way D) are definitely less successful, less intelligent, less kind, and less hilarious than moi.
But I want to give Love a chance.
Eventually.
Without screaming in its face.
I also want to stop taking part in my self fulfilling prophecy of lonliness/purposefully pushing people away that I have some emotional attachment to.
That being said.
Who wants to take me out to dinner tonight?!
Focus on the good things.
Like the idea of one day growing old with someone like this:
Or the idea that Stephanie used this giant metal box in the street to time travel and when she got back she had no pants cause the TRex stole them. Perfect fit, those motherfuckers have baby legs.
Another good thing is having Fridays off this summer.
Thursday nights are like wish-granting kittens dressed in cashmere pantsuits with little pouches on their collars filled with free drugs.
At the Ear Inn bar you get crayons on the table so you can draw.
I chose Edgar Allan Poe portraiture.
Obviously.
We didn't run into Ear Inn regular James Gandolfini (booooooooooooooo)(he is a totally hot fat man)
but we had some vodka and jameson and bread and a fantastic burger.
YUM.
I've missed you very much.
Speaking of my ghosts, I saw this and really loved it, I felt a little wave of affection for street art.
Then I looked to the left of it and Lance had tagged right there.
Jesus.
Its like a little joke between me and God only God is laughing but I'm totally not.
I mean its fine, we are friends but really. Thats one of things I hate about graffiti, your always reminded of those people whether you want to be or not.
Everyone knows its windy.
West to East for a party...
If we are truly dopplegangers then I am blessed because you are one of the most beautiful girls in the world.
There is always someone resting on her breasts.
They are like the heaving version of love and comfort.
Livvy works so hard for days then texts me this:
"I want a glass of cold chardonnay yo"
She has been wearing a lot of red.
At some point in this night I yelled "everyone grab Adrians penis"
This scared him so terribly that he jumped backward into a bicycle and then further still into a metal wall.
OK then.
Ellie looks like a poet.
As I was saying.
Cold chardonnay yo.
Z has so many friends that she met up with this chick who she attended kindergarten with.
I'm quite serious.
This is how I hope I look when I smoke.
I'm thinking of quitting though.
That was happy Thursday.
Some of yesterday was happy Friday but now I have nervous Saturday, refer to paragraph one of this post if you forgot what I'm nervous about.
With love,
Kristina.
Last night I was confronted with my ghosts.
The ghosts of New York.
They just started showing up and never left, one by one.
All the men who broke my heart a little or a lot, doesn't matter.
They were all out on the town, at EVERY BAR/RESTAURANT/ART SHOW I WALKED INTO like, "Heeeeeeey Krissy! LETS ACT NORMAL TOGETHER."
Or.
Lets not.
How about I have a panic attack instead about the idea that either my heart could explode or I could very possibly be This Way forever.
This Way means incapable of commitment and addicted to jerkoff assholes.
I don't even think I'm labeling all these guys as assholes, maybe they aren't. Its possible its just our alchemy, the way I mix up with them and create this horrible explosive craziness which leads to this sentence every time, "Krissy. I really like you. Really. Its just that I don't think I can give you what you want. I just don't want to hurt you. Also, I think you're a little too insane."
This is all very comical in hindsight, cause most of these dudes either A) have a drug problem B) are themselves TOTALLY whacked out of their gords C) think they are being nice by saying shit that way D) are definitely less successful, less intelligent, less kind, and less hilarious than moi.
But I want to give Love a chance.
Eventually.
Without screaming in its face.
I also want to stop taking part in my self fulfilling prophecy of lonliness/purposefully pushing people away that I have some emotional attachment to.
That being said.
Who wants to take me out to dinner tonight?!
Focus on the good things.
Like the idea of one day growing old with someone like this:
Or the idea that Stephanie used this giant metal box in the street to time travel and when she got back she had no pants cause the TRex stole them. Perfect fit, those motherfuckers have baby legs.
Another good thing is having Fridays off this summer.
Thursday nights are like wish-granting kittens dressed in cashmere pantsuits with little pouches on their collars filled with free drugs.
At the Ear Inn bar you get crayons on the table so you can draw.
I chose Edgar Allan Poe portraiture.
Obviously.
We didn't run into Ear Inn regular James Gandolfini (booooooooooooooo)(he is a totally hot fat man)
but we had some vodka and jameson and bread and a fantastic burger.
YUM.
I've missed you very much.
Speaking of my ghosts, I saw this and really loved it, I felt a little wave of affection for street art.
Then I looked to the left of it and Lance had tagged right there.
Jesus.
Its like a little joke between me and God only God is laughing but I'm totally not.
I mean its fine, we are friends but really. Thats one of things I hate about graffiti, your always reminded of those people whether you want to be or not.
Everyone knows its windy.
West to East for a party...
If we are truly dopplegangers then I am blessed because you are one of the most beautiful girls in the world.
There is always someone resting on her breasts.
They are like the heaving version of love and comfort.
Livvy works so hard for days then texts me this:
"I want a glass of cold chardonnay yo"
She has been wearing a lot of red.
At some point in this night I yelled "everyone grab Adrians penis"
This scared him so terribly that he jumped backward into a bicycle and then further still into a metal wall.
OK then.
Ellie looks like a poet.
As I was saying.
Cold chardonnay yo.
Z has so many friends that she met up with this chick who she attended kindergarten with.
I'm quite serious.
This is how I hope I look when I smoke.
I'm thinking of quitting though.
That was happy Thursday.
Some of yesterday was happy Friday but now I have nervous Saturday, refer to paragraph one of this post if you forgot what I'm nervous about.
With love,
Kristina.
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