C'mon.

Let me tell you.
For two weeks I have been smoking like a chimney/a Brad Pitt/a mom on welfare.

When you aren't eating, smoking becomes sort of second nature.
When you aren't eating because you're having extreme anxiety, smoking becomes sort of a first nature.
I also drank a lot of orange juice to balance out the whole killing my body thing.
It seemed like a logical and or tasty solution.

I feel so much better today because I am seeing Claude again (my tiny therapist boy genius friend voice of reason) and I left a crazy abusive job. And I had the relationship talk.
That one.
Theres only one.
The one that goes like this:


(The Van Der Beek is a really good example of the Girl Crying)

Girl Crying: "I feel ______. And I need ______. And you aren't there right now and I don't know WHERE you are but its not THERE where I neeeeed you."
long pause.
Girl Crying: "I don't want to break up."
This is where Girl lists some options and tries to remain calm and does weird things with her hands and looks terrified and probably goes to the bathroom at least once to avoid the situation momentarily.
Then if the boy has any care whatsoever, he usually says what needs to be said, which fingers crossed, ends with this:
Smart Boy: "I don't want to lose you."

Aaaaaaand SCENE.

Don't worry, everything is better, no one is angry, no one is scared, now you give eachother some kind of physical feedback like a kiss or a solid hug and everyone can stop freaking out.

Unfortunately, written out that way, it looks like total bullshit the way people communicate.
But its not.
Saying how you feel is fucking hard, because the assumption is usually that you will be rejected after you've said your piece.
No one likes a complainer, or a drama queen, or a baby.
And everyone is scared all of the time to change things that feel off. Because once you admit they are off, you're really in trouble if you don't intend to step up and right the wrongs.

We all know who I'm talking about and I don't really like that because I value the privacy he and I still maintain most of the time.
But this relates to every single romantic relationship anyone will ever have so its not even like MY r'ship is being revealed here.
Yes, I say r'ship.
All the time.
Usually daily.
Because that is all girls talk about anyway.
R'ships.
I'm really sorry that I have to take it here, but, the moral of the story is
"Your R'ship will only sail successfully in the waters of truth and open hearts."
Most schmaltzy thing I have ever said?
Or.
Most awesome thing I have ever said.

Meanwhile I dream of make outs and bike riding.

Dislocated shoulder and fractured humerus means no blogging at the moment.
I'll be back as soon as my will to live normally returns.
I miss being moderately interesting.

xo from the cripple ward!

photographs coming soon.

I'm really relaxed about things.

I feel like this is an example of exactly how horrible I am on my pain in the ass days:

(ps sorry Hoyt for blowing up your spot about how gay you are)

me: oh my god can i just say it
i fucking hate
coffee
i hate the smell
so much
jhoyt: coffee is slang for get a beverage
me: it smells rotten
jhoyt: of any kind when its too early to drink
well, I like it
so deal
me: what about the smell
jhoyt: Its different when you like it
me: when i smell coffee and im with someone else
i automatically dislike them

jhoyt: it forms a receptor that associates those molecules with heightened awareness
me: via association
jhoyt: even iced coffee? its not fragrant
me: i know what it smells like under the ice
jhoyt: well, sorry dude
just give me a mint, and I'll stay away from your nose until Im done
I love espresso
I used to hate it, but now, I LOVE IT
me: disgusting

me: when i dont like things
i really trul;y am grossed out
jhoyt: you can have soda
me: the trifecta is coffee, yogurt, and bananas
those three
i wanna throw up just seeing the words typed
jhoyt: like banana chopped up in the yogurt?
me: oh my god
fuck you
seriously
jhoyt: a parfait?
me: its disgusting
the worst part is kids love yogurt and bananas
but i cant touch or smell them
i get the willies
so i have to make them do it themselves which is really messy
jhoyt: is it a weird trauma thing?
me: i dont know
i just hate them
they smell like rotting corpse in my mind
jhoyt: when Im feeling lazy on weekends I get a stick of ostrich beef jerky and this really processed stiff creamy icelandic yogurt
SO GOOD
me: like decay
everything you say is so latent homo today
jhoyt: deal with it
you should bang the homo out of me
that would totally teach my coffee drinking yogurt loving ass a lesson
me: thats disgusting
talking like that with yogurt in the sentence
also ass
ass plus yogurt
plus coffee
plus the term bang
all of that was a nightmare


In conclusion, being friends with me obviously sucks.
Goodnight.

Claire Fisher marries Ted Fairwell in the end, don't forget that

FACT:
I have decided that women do not change.
Ever.
I was just IMing with a very beautiful special coy intelligent 13 year old I babysit for Wednesday afternoons.
Yes that sentence is 100 percent truth.

I like to be supportive and be a good listener because there is no greater relief at that age...

Anyway, we were talking about boys.
How when you are friends with a boy, he wants to kiss you.
And boys you want to kiss, don't really want anything from you at all.
In fact, they want to date your bestie.
What a shame.
(PS this is all a direct tale from said 13 year old, it is not just a worst-case-scenario nightmare as you may suspect)

That gives me anxiety. Right now. At 25 years old.

More accurately though, the whole thing makes me optimistic that nothing really changes.
If you have faith, there is a time when it just kind of works.
When you're a little older than you wanted to be.
Not fit to wear white anymore.
Sort of tired looking with something other than Prime Ass Shapeliness.
Then I think, if all goes according to girl dream formula, someone totally loves you to an absurd degree anyway.
And you do not get tired of them.
And it is not gross when you wake up and they are staring at you.

Basically what I'm saying is, we are in love.


How rad would it be if my name turned out to be Kristina Messina?
Admittedly not that rad but get real hes a fox.


(lets say thats me)
(its not a stretch)

Open Request:
If you are in fact a man hope you read none of this because it makes me look fairly psychotic.
Theeeinks!

Don't say everyone is disappointing

Please remind me to hang a creaking park swing in my next apartment.
In the living room.
The living room may be small enough that when I swing back and forth, my toes will touch the wall behind me then the wall in front of me.


Also remind me to not do drugs.
Its for the kids.



Now I am going to remind you to see Away We Go.
Here are two screenshots that might make you feel intrigued as well as a bit fuzzy:





I want to see more movies and drink more cherry coke.
I want to take a very short vacation and bring someone to the beach who thinks they don't like the beach.


Tomorrow I want to be given the tooth thats coming out.
So if you are up at 830 am please remind me to take it home to make into a ring.

I could name my kid Ladies and Gentlemen if I want to.

Sew....

I met someone.

But now I'm back.

I don't have anything else to say on that topic so lets all just move on, shall we?

Well.
This is awkward......




I was also totally jobless for a few weeks there and was so beyond depressed I forgot how to drink, forgot how to write, forgot how to get along with people, and forgot how to get up before noon.
Whoops2009.
I don't think I realized my whole life was changing right before my very eyes, like going through puberty and getting your period in gym class.
There is a relation, I'm just not sure if its all that direct.


I don't even know what I want to blog about.
I don't even know if I remember how to blog.
Brace yourselves.

For starters, summer will begin soon.
Washington Square Park looks amazing and sounds amazing and today I saw Matthew Modine riding an orange bike around the fountain.
He is both taller and sexier than I had previously assumed.
The Deenster (what I am going to secretly call him)
is not in the fountain picture, but use your imagination plus this recent picture from some New York publication of Deenster on said ugly bike.





Part of me wants to discuss what he was wearing today and how his hair was darker, but I think I have already devoted too much energy to a C list celebrity and his jaunt in the park.

New topic.
Madonna, your boyfriend is a teenage homosexual and you are a senior citizen wearing school girl collars.
Please abort your mission to be the grossest woman on the planet right nyah.


Oh wait, I'm sorry, to be the grossest woman on the planet you would have to be wearing these:

I feel like those are used 'sexually'
and that makes me uncomfs.

Also?

Ew second trimester pregnant centaur hippie reading the news.
You look like you are made of dough covered in fleece.
I hate you very much.
You do not qualify and one of the 'coolest homemade costumes' as your website implies.

Time for another shitty famous person story.
This is a table full of old ladies who I assumed to be lesbionics, at Max Fish:

I could sit here for the rest of my life trying to determine why these people would ever be at Max Fish in the first place, but that is of little consequence.
The only thing that matters is that moments after taking this picture, they have to squeeze together a lil bit to make room for their pal coming to the table.
Cathy Mitchell?

Nope.

Josh Hartnett.
Josh Hot-nett.
So Hot-nett sits with these women who he is apparently besties with, or maybe hes fucking all of their daughters I don't know.
It was weird and that is the end of that story.
Also weird, Tally Dead Dead came into the city that night and met Molly for the first time.
This is only something you would care about if you were one of the two of them.
But it was exciting and they are both tall.
And they both sort of look like mice.


I should get in the shower right now because Porto is coming over so we can buy dinner ingredients from Pathmark with her food stamps.
But I have more things to talk about I think.

This is who I spend my mornings with now:


If you give me a soft thing with fabric of many colors, I will look at it for 6-8 seconds I think. Then I will put it down and it will not have changed anything about my existence.
Judging by le behebeh's expression, I do not think we could say the same for him.
His head is very large and his feet very small.
He is one of the cutest things I have ever seen, even surpassing those pictures of chimps hugging kittens or otters kissing.
Those of you who have previously wondered why I continue to be a nanny, there you go.
Because LOOK AT THAT THING.

end of story.

On a more terrifying note.
Chinatown continues to fail.

Capsizing buildings?
No big whoop.
Just rope off Pike Street for a week or so and hope the giant pieces of concrete teetering don't drop on the commoners.

This blog is now over and I am going to get ready to do this:



I shall return, this time with shorter blog hiatus.

Zeeeeeirnt.

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

PS

How did I forget seeing Bjork last night?

I told her she looks about 25 years old.

She said, "Are you taking a piss??"

Which I wasn't.
She seriously looks about 20 years younger than she is.

Great job.

Bring a friend. Just kidding!

I dun know if its the weather, or the Zoloft, or the weather...
But I am surely a happy little lady these days.

Basically, I don't even get sad about going to work in the morning.
I also don't get angry at slight hangovers.
I also don't yell at my mom or faint on the subway.
Wow big deal.
Fuck off, its baby steps.

Can't hurt to be walking through lovely Tribeca, 62 degrees and sunny, and see this:

Hey cotton candy rainbow guy, I'm a cute weeble baby in a puffy jacket, pass me a pink one. Theeeeinks!

I never actually hate New York at all, but the last week or so I fucking love it.
I want to marry it.
I want to have 10 thousand of its babies.
I want to call it on a Tuesday night, every 2-3 minutes, for like 5 hours til it picks up.
You can't do that to a booty call really, unless you just drank about a liter of margarita, but I bet New York wouldn't mind.

Also, totally thought I would be hating on all these Valentimes parties, etc, but I'm kind of not.
Its just an excuse to ask people if they wanna go get a 6 of Coors Light and makeout somewhere.

Someone I will not be asking to make out?
Dan!

But I do luff him and I am super excited that he comes and hangs out with girls and never says mean things or makes fun of you.
Yessssssss.
Left: casual jewwy smirk
Right: unattractive waspy snarl


This shit is like a double date where there is ZERO sexual tension. AKA great job.
Thanks for coming out with us so we don't feel like gross old hags.
*That goes out to all male friends who sometimes buy you a drink and let you dominate 99 percent of conversation telling them things there is no way they are interested in.

At this point, I am totally non depressed about being single because my friends are by far the greatest people to have ever walked the planet earth.
Basically, whenever I feel down, I imagine an inanimate object (pillow, flower, can of beans) with really thin legs and big shoes doing a little dance.
And if that image came alive, told good jokes, gave me hugs, and got drunk with me when I need it, that would sort of describe how awesome my friends are.
Get it?

Great Job morning edition

This morning I am realizing sometimes you just have to give up.
This applies to many facets of existence, but today I was reminded of this truth of all truths based on a struggle with my sock.

Since the dawn of the skinny jean, hipsters, fashionistas and copycats like me alike have been wondering how to get their socks on in the winter with said denims.

I am a huge fan of the weather apprope sock. Hi, its January. Wear a thick sock.
So yeah, if you're one of those people who thinks before they act, you put the sock on first, then you put the jeans on, and its only a slight torture getting that tiny foot hole up around your heel then ankle.

Other scenario...
you are me.
You do NOT think before doing anything at all.

You pu on your jeans, then go rummaging through your giant bag of laundry trying to find the winter thickness of sock.
Oh, nbd, heres some ABOVE THE KNEE SOCKS.
Really?
Perfect.
First I'll scrunch them with that weird tights-prep hand wiggle thing, then try to shimmy them on my foot and over the jeans.
Maybe I should cuff the jean because everything is getting mad bunchy etc?
Herm, skinny jeans do not cuff well.
Ok, so the sock will just have to be scrunchy.
Actually no because the feeling of tight jean plus about a thousand yards of sock around my lower leg area is giving me a panic attack.


Don't worry.
Now I'm late for work.

You are an asshole.

File this under completely idiotic

santo daime? eh.

I am really going to blow up my own spot right now so please do not be angsty when you get hit in the face with icky schrap(nel)

Seriously, I hate on tons of things about the universe right now.
Part of it is that my job is working with boogery kids, but i CANNOT for the life of me get rid of this 'cold'.
I am one of those cornballs who thinks its all mental like if I drink tea and envision white lights and cures from within I will just wake up healed.
I think the sting in my throat is less infection/germies more heartache/bad vibes.
And if you wanna talk about bad vibes, which I do, here it goes.

I am an idiot.
I have been walking around for years getting myself caught up in situations fully fully aware they are going to suck at some point.
Usually people use their foresight to avoid pain, I think I have accidentally been using it to collide with a shitstorm of dramz.
Then when things go exactly according to shitstorm plan, I'm like, "hey y'all! who feels like listening to me lose my composure? its time to cry and lay in bed feeling awful and hate my soft lil baby heart for being a total sucker."
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you are lucky because it means you haven't been privy to my most recent descent into "I totally love this person so I'm gonna make it work" territory.
The best part is, this has happened at least 5 times since I was like 16.
I have zero skills in self preservation.
I am that dumb kid who stands next to the stove.
If I touch it agggggain...theres no way its still going to be hot...I thiiiink I should probably check it out...oh whoops that burns! Bummer! I'll be back to take another look see in a few minutes....ok I'm back. Still hot? I think I should def find out....
Yeah, thats where this is going.
Hot stove = hot stove.
Make the correlation.
Stop touching it asshole.
When it comes to matters of the heart, I am a stove toucher to the max.
The realness part of me would absolutely love to just vomit a bunch of sadness and anger onto the internet, but A. blogging won't fix the problem and B. I absolutely love and respect the person whos ruining my life right now, so I really don't think our private matters should keep being bitched about 'publicly'
I really just think the one thing I need to get a handle on is the weird spontaneous break into tears thing on the train.
Its a behavior reserved for folks with terminal illnesses, totally batshit crazy ladies, and people who have just been dumped by like, the person they have lived with for 7 years.
Something along those lines.
I am not one of those people.
But I strangely enough find myself sitting there minding my own business, reading some book, listening to Lil Wayne (not good crying music) and jesus christ.
Whimper. Audible gasp/cry noise. Tears. Shame. Ew. WHATTTT THE FUUUUUCK.
Oh sorry everyone.
Didn't mean to bum you all out.
Great job!

And I always think I'm over it.
I really really do.
But instead of being happier and moving on I just get angry instead.
Secretly furious.
Coping tactics?
Killing it!

Suggestion to self?
OK, I'm going to throw something in the river today as a representation of letting go of my pain and agony.
New age!!!!!!
Super lame and ps I'm not kidding.
I also might have to start a fire somewhere and say a little prayer into it.
Hi healing power elements of the universe,
its me again.
lets do this shit.

Or I will just read this letter out loud:

Dear God,
Love is so awesome! I mean it!
For a couple weeks or days or months or years its really the best.
You can point and laugh at the lonely people because when you are lovingggg, you're in a special club, and who doesn't love special clubs?
Then something shitty happens and you remember its all cyclical. Fighting, sadness, giving in, making up, fucking, relief.
Then like a week later you do it again!
Forever!
Until you decide you do NOT like love that much any more and you say "whatever suckers I'm riding dolo warrior status, being single is fun and awesome and loving is for cornballs"
So you do that for awhile until someone makes you laugh and you wanna hold their hand sometimes and do nice things for them. Oh whoops, not feeling very warrior.
Thats cool though, because remember last time, love was super fun, and actually you didn't fight or cry that much, it was mostly snuggling, right?
Oh yeah!
Then days or weeks or months later, oh bummer, actually there IS a lot of yucky stuff involved with loving, ew we have to have a talk??? That does not sound good. Then theres complaining and bitterness and just all new kinds of dramz!!
So actually God, I think when you came up with this whole concept you should have make human beings either insanely dumb, so they wouldn't think so much, or insanely smart so they could come up with an answer for how to 'make it weeerk'

(Tim Gunn shouts!)
So I have lots of love, but right now i think I should give it to meeee, and give some to you, also.
Because you are balling.

XOXO from Earth
Krissy






PS I'm cold but Manhatta you so pretty










PS speaking of the roles of love, happy 32nd birthday to Lance, hunny bunny of the distant past, who I totally wish I never knew in tons of ways, but theres no way I could say anything about learning to make it werkkkk without him in my life.

No humor involved

News Flashes:


Hwwwwahhhkeeenuh Pheonix plans to break into the rap game:


Juliette Lewis, despite Scientology, still awesome at life:


When girls dance without boys around, this is in fact what it looks like:



There is nothing going on, and I'll tell you why.
Because its too cold, thats why.

See you bishes in April.

And then I took my shirt off! What!?!?

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.