Lets on get back on track with a picture of my boobs.
oliviamalone.com obvio.
Stephanie and I have mastered the dirty roll in the yard shot. Also why do I always look like the ringleader of the local fight club? Not really that into it. There should be a dialogue bubble by my head saying "next motherfucker get greased and ready because I am tre-zero segundos away from ripping yer limbs off and beating your boyfriend with them"
Everybody just relax.
Tye-Dye Party tomorrow for one of my besties and also Crystal. I mean Crystals ok I guess too.
Technically Jeylan is spelled Ceylan, so lets call it C+C Hippie Factory.
I'm gonna tye-dye the shit out of my sling!
Adieu!
FYI I am supes hype to blog AC but first I need pics of my injury hint hint Olivia Denise Stephanie Nicki.
I woke up quite under the weather this morning completely unable to swallow coupled with aching eyeballs. Not suitable for nannying. I had to call out of work of course because little babes don't need my germs no siree. (Suri?)
It was an unpleasant day of not eating, not really drinking, not really moving... just rolling around in my bed having feverish dreams and intermittently feeling the disgusting tingle of the sunburn on my lower back rub against my sheets.
Then I dragged myself up around 230 this afternoon to get ready to go to therapy on the upper west side. For some reason I thought today would be a really good day to delve into some ol stinky garbage issues I've had since I was a kid that possibly affect my current behaviours. Might I remind you, this is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and is all about living in the moment mindfully. It is certainly not about having an hour long self absorbed cry fest. Well...today I failed at mindfulness and self control. I sweat all over Claude's nice Eames lounge chair and snot up about half his box of tissues. I cried the entire time basically and I had that weird awful sobby choked voice that it just unbearable.
So that happened.
I came home to rest and take some pills and drink some tea which was nice but then I got shit on by someone who shall remain nameless. I really dislike being disliked does that make sense? I always feel this weird pity for people who berate those who care about them. It makes me think they are so beyond fucked inside that I have to figure it out and then assist them in some way. Maybe they just don't like me and thats why they talk shit. Either way, its essentially a lose-lose sitch.
So as of 7 minutes ago it became Tuesday and this horrible Monday ended and I am glad for it. I embrace every moment I have with those I love but today was pretty loveless for the most part. Thats why I'm going to think about all the happiness I had this holiday weekend. I am so so thankful for the people in my life who give me positive thoughts and unconditional acceptance. I hope these photos make you feel good.
On the train out to NJ to celebrate the 4th, it appeared as though Levin was not set to have a good time with the ladies. But I had faith in his ability to find enjoyment in all the vagina he was about to be stuck with for 48 hours.
Porto sits with me and is never embarrassed when I talk too loud or say "wet dick" in public. Maybe she is embarrassed but she doesn't scold me which is nice.
Marshy like disease time.
Beer. Meat. Livy's salad. Dinner in the yard. It was an immediate killing it type of situation upon arrival.
We walked to the fireworks at the river and somehow ended up with the perfect seats despite a crowd of 125,000 people. Supposedly 125G, Nancy may have exaggerated.
Levin posted up Americana.
This is real. Real emosh. (emotional? can i say emosh?) Stephanie cried a few times and forced Levin to hold her hand dramatically. I enjoyed that. I mostly clapped furiously and wiggled with excitement. Red Bank fireworks are by far the best I have ever seen in my life. There were hearts and purple things and star showers and hibiscus shaped ones with red lanterns in the center that floated away as the explosion faded. Steph and I now have a plan to be cremated and stuffed into a tube WITH fireworks so we can be shot into the sky and transcend time and space like magik. I made up that last part about transcendence.
Levin caveman duties.
This is what drunk ghosts probably look like.
The next day, the actual July 4th, we had a plan to remain at the beach until the fireworks went off on the ocean around 9pm. It is very hard to be at the beach for ten hours. But Ilona and Werman showed up which was entertaining, especially because Ilona was wearing her mans underpants as a babin suit.
Werman is a good beach DJ.
Look at these butts! Look at these mexican blankies from 7-11!
Stephanie's beach walk is so good, she does it a certain way 'so nothing shakes' Shes my tiny pony.
If they have a baby I think they should just name it Jew. No other moniker would really explain a creature from their combined beings.
Jey and BabyBows finally showed up late in the day. They did not disappoint on Jersey costume prep. Best part is they sort of always look like this. I just never realized what I was looking at. Glory.
I wish I had thought of this first.
I don't think it is possible to blog anything after the beginning of the sunset. It was too good. Dogs running on the beach. So much color. Music and swimming and all kinds of good things. Heavenly is a good adjective in very few occasions but here it may apply.
Olivia took photos of me with seashells over my boobies like a mermaid laying in the wet sand. And me and Jey holding hands in the creek reflecting the pink from the sky. And Stephanie dancing with a scarf like a bird. And water dives and poodle chases and Micheal Jackson beach house blasting celebration. All those parts are in my head where they belong and I wish I could share them but I just don't know about that. I would have to be so much better of a writer...
We had one more little trip to the beach Sunday after I ate probably 3 entire bagels and drank 14 glasses of juice. Then to Jeys to eat all the food at her house. Also to show off my sunburn.
And sing this:
Then to the ferry to see another sunset and go back to the reals.
Out-feeeeit!
The moon!
This to that.
I walked South Street to my apartment and was greeted by a giant dead bird on the stoop. It stared at me for a few minutes then whispered Welcome Home.
*PostScript thank you mom for taking care of us and loving us and feeding us and having a place for me always
My plan over the holidays was to make some kind of year in review with photos then I realized it would be a lot of work so its just gonna have to wait until one of those days where I'm sitting at my desk drinking a beer staring up the fireplace yelling at my cats whatever it is I do when I'm just out of ideas. I have been off of work for too long, nearly two weeks. I am losing my fiyah. This New Years was by far the most low key I've ever seen, and on a truly grand scale. Little parties in Brooklyn. Cover charges at bars no one wanted to pay. Stupid gatherings that looked alright on paper and turned out to be a total waste of cab fare getting over. Five of my dear friends were/are out of the country therefor no good to me so to speak. Actually six friends out of the country now that I calculate correctly. No smooch at midnight. The Uj. This is quickly spiraling into a sob story blog so I think I should just stop. Wonder what these two did for NYE. Party hard? No doubt.
Jameson and makeup. A girl must plan for adventure whether or not it ever actually surfaces. Then I guess I dropped a snake in her pants. That joke originated in the non sexual realm of my brain.
Me Sam and Jijo hit the streets. Chinatown looks so glamorous. And smells so glamorous. I think glamour probably smells like lotion made of gold dust diamonds and tiger pee.
Peace 2008. You've been lame!
This explains the party we were at when the ball dropped. My balls dropped. It stunk.
Went searching for Turkish Delight over on her block, but she was watching movies and drinking wine. I think that, coupled with an empty bar at Lil F explains exactly how fucking twilight zone the last night of 08 was. Geigh. Very geigh. Plus the bruschetta was totally not on point. What? It hurts to even say it but it is true.
This is the point where we gave up the search for the partytimes and got cake and pie and cookies and went dungeon apartment status. Best idea ever? Sure.
If you wanna know how cold it was between Dumbo and the LES, it was about this cold: Eyyo Linus!
Back in Manahatta things were looking up a little, but not until we found these masks, thanks Liv and Hiyme for having creepy shit in your house.
If there are albino babies in hell, they look like this. They also must have done something really bad because what kind of baby gets banished to hell? This is a question I do not want to know the answer to. Maybe its a rapin baby. To quote a disgusting conversation I took part in the other day; maybe the scenario is that the baby killed a kitten and then used the kittens paw to molester someones crotch. Imagine that!
The Twin Peaks DVD makes it that much creepier.
Surprise surprise look who takes it to another level. Me and Sam did some nudie/stockings photos because what better way to start a year than with sexytime weirdo fetish fun? Jijo watched Fear, the classic film detailing the love affair of a psychotic Wahlberg and a appleheaded Witherspoon mid 1990s. Say hello to ya motha for me!
After that, me and Joaquin mainlined alcohol for a few hours and played chess against eachother in a giant bathtub filled with koi fish. The whole thing was inspired by his hairdo. Obv. Barrettes for men. New shit.
Just kidding, the WaKeeeeen sitch only happened in my mind. I like how I had to say just kidding like it was at all plausible.
But seriously look at this picture and tell me WahKeeeynuh wouldn't love to do shit like this together? I wish I could see him in tights with his bloated flesh hanging over the waistband. Ugh so amazing. Glitter everywhere.
I should prob photo cred Sammy for all the radical shots she took/takes on a daily basis. Her flickr is a good place to go see T&A in an artsy way. That rhymes! Hire me!
I imagine more shots from New Years will make it up there eventually. But for now there's just one of my butt which as I have said before, is my best ASSet. Basically I should just start walking around backwards. Don't hate. It would only be conceited if A. it wasn't true or B. I had pretty enough of a face to make people jealous which I don't.
In closing, I hope to spend the year of 2009 with the following people:
1. Mah Boo, fingers crossed 2. my gal pals 3. my cats 4. people who tell good stories 5. people who have good comic timing 6. obviously my fam, in small doses 7. your hot mom 8. HwaaahKeeenuh! (and his barrettes) 9. my own personal band of backup singers who follow me around singing the funny things I say after I say them (like a musical echo of sorts) 10. my own radical self
XO! May you have all the nightmares you ever wished for...
*BTdubbs, Liv Hiyme and Maudular: We ended up in your apartment again because it was the closest and (wrongly) presumed to be the warmest. Think of it as a compliment. If would have been way greater if you were here with us, but you are just too good for your home aren't you? Out there riding horses on the beach and eating burritos and laughing while you sun your smiley ass faces. I love you very much, but its all just too much to think about. By the way, your bed should be used as a lethal weapon to get terrorists to fall to sleepies instead of bombing shit. It can not be resisted.
