Showing posts with label butts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label butts. Show all posts

Monday, July 6, 2009

In every wish and dream And happy home You will find the kingdom of The Gnomes

Everything comes in giant waves, no?

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

Saturday, March 14, 2009

superfluous.

Amusing visual and social moments as of late:


The Better History Exhibition featuring many people we all know doing weird things and inviting their parents to come observe it.


Was this purposeful to coincide with the full moon?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Who cares.


Looney Tunes art.


Always forgive the past.
Make friendship from bullshit.
All the hate in the world lives inside our blackened little hearts let it free mkay?
The ex hunny bunny sculpted a pretty amazing snake catching stick for the sake of art.
I want one.

Proud of him for sure.


Troy's art hurts Morry's feelings.


Consuption will be the death of us.
Conceptual living art.
Or just a bunch of slobs whove never heard of a garbage can.

Afterparty on Bowery was very loud.
But at least these guys were doing this:




Outerspace Morry


MegaBeth looking sweet


ARE increasing the noise level.
The metal tooth goblin is all you really need to observe here.


NO TOUCHING.

To sum up:
View art.
Talk.
Hug people.
Talk.
Walk.
Beer.
Talk more.
Smoke.
Itch new tattoo.
Catch cab.
Eat pizza/drink beer.
Argue about whether or not Lady Gaga is disgusting.
Catch cab.
Smoke.
Loud.
Talk.
Talk louder.
Drink.
Smoke.
Talk louder still.
Dance.
Pee.
Eyeroll.
Smoke.
Hug people.
Drink.
Eventually decide you are 'too old' which really just means your ears hurt.
Decide you want to watch a movie.
Catch cab.
Yell at molesters following you when you get home.


Yesterday my cat Cinnamon started drooling.
As in puddles.
That usually means your cat is poisoned and is going to die.
Great job!
So I cried and called my mom because I'm still the kind of person who calls their mom to cry.
Big deal.
But today she looks ok to me so I feel a little less insanely terrified.
If you wouldn't mind, say a prayer for her because shes cute and really spunky and shes too young to die.

Non pet related update:
This is a not that amazingly flattering picture of my butt. The top half of my body looks like bunny ears!



I enjoy Olivia Malone sessions.


It takes Olivia about a half hour and a number of beers to get me to stop scowling at her camera.
Even whilst donning lady lace and twirling, I somehow manage to look slightly pfft.
Or more accurately, TSSSST.


I'M SMILING ON THE INSIDE

This week alone, 4 different male friends have told me that if I continue to make these faces, no man will ever speak to me again.
I am attempting to remedy this problem.
But I'm not making any promises.
You have to weed out the pussies, nahmean?
If you can't hang with the ice grill, you should probably go take a peepee sitting down or something.

In closing, this is my new arm.

The handsome horse is obviously magik, check the completely unstaged beam of light shooting towards his chassis.
Also look how funny my arm hair is!
meeeepmerrppppp arm hair (say that part like a robot)

XO