I gots me a LAMB purse

Finally I have a purse that cost more than I could ever hope to sell myself for. If blow jobs go for about twenty buck a pop, then I would need to do about 25 of them in one night to pay for this thing. Lucky for me, the bag was on sale. Good, ol' Nordstrom's Rack, selling what the rich find distasteful. Not only was the bag deeply discounted already, my fellow pueblains didn't like it either, so it was reduced by another 50%. The store was desperate to get rid of it, if I had waited just a little bit longer they might have paid me to take it. The best is that I like this bag from the moment I saw it regular price.
Suck my dick recession, suck it like a crack whore (y'know, toothless)

Weekend Pills

I didn't take my pills today until almost 1PM. I got at eight, I was actually doing laundry by 8:30, it was a productive morning. I was thinking about the pills, but I felt the breakfast combo of Oragina and grilled cheese just weren't right. After going to In N' Out for some professionally made grilled cheese, I took my meds. Which of course completely screwed up my concept of time. Despite knowing that I got up as though I had to go to work, I felt like my day didn't really start until 1PM. Now its almost 10PM, but it feels like a drowsy five to me.

Thanksgiving wishes

There are so many reasons I won't be able to do this, but I'm so in love with the idea I invite you all to experience it in your imaginations. To make this extra assuming you should know that I'm a vegetarian.

 I invite all my friends over for Thanksgiving dinner, the is table set, the chairs are ready, but oddly there's no smell of food in the air.  Everyone sits down and I disappear into the kitchen to fetch our meal.  I come carrying a big, white, plastic bucket with a tightly sealed lid.  I plop that bucket at the head the table, since I'm the hostess I'll need to serve everyone.  I pry off the lid, I drool in anticipation of the bounty which we about to receive, and I start to put pig fetuses on to everyone's plates.  "There very trendy right now, and since they were never born, they weren't killed, which makes them a vegetable, so I can eat 'em!  Aren't I clever guys?"  My guest quickly leave as the stench of formaldehyde, or as I call it, the stench of success, fills the room.  

The inspiration for this occurred when I saw the tub o' pig fetuses in a school biology catalog and immediately started dreaming of their many uses.  It's out of price range, and, well I believe that pre-natal pigs are vegetables, I could never eat something so gosh-darn cute.  I also thought they would be fun to throw at cars.

We've got new neighbors

So we're taking bets on long they'll last. The most anyone has stayed in that apartment is 6 months, and that's because he was never home. And I don't think he paid rent for while. Anyway next there were the people who stayed for about two months, then another person moved in and left before the month was over. There were very long gaps, months, between each new tenant. After concluding that their moving is not due to us being loud neighbors, or that I make strange noises all the time, leading them to think we've some sort of People Under the Stairs situation going on, I must believe there's something wrong with that apartment. It could the lack ventilation, it's teensy-weensy-ness ( it takes a LOT of skill to make a studio look spacious), or, most likely, it's because that place is haunted. I know, I'm probably getting a few raised eyebrows, but hear me out. A guy was shot (by the cops, so its okay)  in our apartment right before we moved in (that's how we got a discount and brand new appliances). After three years of living here, we can safely determine that there are no ghost. My theory is this; when the cops shot him, he must have splattered, so I think his soul was blown out of his body and into the apartment across from us. Now he haunts the wrong apartment.  Just think about it, that's all I ask.

Why we should go to a Northern European nation for 09

'Cause they got Dignitas, that's why.  And after hearing such a provocative slogan, Suicide Tourism, I really, really want to go. I don't want to die, but I like having the option of assisted suicide should I become very ill. I also like the idea of maxing out all my credit cards if I'm terminally ill. I'm going to live it up on my way out.

Suicide Tourism isn't actually as great as it sounds, unless you are suicidal. You don't go and watch people kill themselves, you go there to kill yourself, because you're lazy ass nation refuses to help you. Okay so maybe it's not laziness, but more a whole lot of squirminess? Despite having a death penalty and being involved in a whole lot of wars, the idea of killing someone who isn't... um..."deserving", isn't capable of scary you, doesn't make you feeling that there is no other choice, someone who inspire pity and empathy is much harder to kill. I dunno.

Well my fellow ghouls, here's the suicide protocol, courtesy of Wikipedia;
"...Dignitas uses the following protocol: an oral dose of an anti-emetic drug, followed approximately 30 minutes later by a lethal overdose of powdered Nembutal dissolved in a glass of water. If necessary, the drugs can be ingested via a drinking straw. The Nembutal overdose depresses the central nervous system, causing the person to become drowsy and fall asleep approximately 15 minutes after drinking it. Anaesthesia progresses to coma as the person's breathing becomes more shallow. Death is caused by respiratory arrest, which occurs approximately 30 minutes after ingesting the Nembutal."

Mindlessness

I love Urban Decay, one of the few pigment rich, cruelty-free make-up brands, so I must encourage any and all readers, including men, to buy their products. What's that you say, "I've got enough make-up?" Well don't worry, you probably don't have any red eyeliner. Do you? That's what I thought. Buy some. Another question, "How will I wear it?" Well don't worry, 'cause UB will tell you how. Click the link below to view "Steal our Looks" page.  Done, looking at?  Good, now you may continue to read the rest of this blog.

It would be fun to do a series of photos, before and after, of my friends with those looks copied exactly. I know who I want to where their Holiday 2007 look, Shadow Box, which gets it name from using all the colors in your eyeshadow pallet. I want all of them to wear that look...

Quote of the Day

"Hey little mama, you lookin' very intelligent today. I like that. You wana buy a CD." Some guy in the 7-11 parking lot, standing next to a BWM with an open trunk loaded with stuff. Said to me, I was wearing glasses, in case you can't tell.

Will I have to repay my student loans?

Citi's going down next. Not quite half my student loans are through them, so if they go down next will I not have to repay my loans? I mean if Uncle Sam if going to give them million/billion bucks can some of that also be used to cover my loans? It makes sense if you think about. The bank has more debt than it can pay, my loans are more than I can pay, except in very small increments, so shouldn't I get bailed out too? For some reason I doubt that'll happen, but I won't be surprised if the fixed APR on them suddenly, magically goes up...
I shouldn't think about this anymore, I can feel my self getting pissed, and worried. I know, I'll change my understanding of the reality of the situation. WaMu didn't go down because of irresponsibility on their part, but because I'm cursed. That would explain why Citi is getting ready to topple, because my connection to them is poisonous. I don't that doesn't alleviate the problem, but it does make me feel very powerful. Fear me banking industry, fear me.

Lesbians at a Fish taco bar!

While it's actually a straight bar, we think, but the place is called Senor Fish, so how can we not go? Last time we commandeered a table and quickly proceeded to bash everyone around us. No one was safe. Strangers were given back stories, new personalities, interesting quirks. We nursed our meager drinks all night, not one of us willing to move from that table. We didn't dance, we didn't get a 3rd round, we just sat and stared at people. It must be unnerving, to be one of those poor sheep, ready for the slaughter. I know they feel our collective gaze, hear an excited murmur followed by our crackling, which I'm sure must chill their blood and shake them to their very core(s). Or at least I'd like to think of it that way. The only other way to see it is that there were a bunch a lady nerds(we all had glasses on), refusing to make eye contact with the other patrons, acting like wallflowers, whispering to each other, followed by our goofy laughter. Yeah, I like my first vision much better.

On being bi...

or should I say duplicitous.  But that would get less attention, wouldn't it?  Anyway, I use both a Mac and a PC.  The Mac I work with, and the PC is my... my personal computer.  My preferences is Macs, the PC and I, it convenient.  But it doesn't excite me like my beautiful, sleek Mac does, it doesn't inspire me.  I wonder if they know about each other.

The PC is a perfectly good computer, it computes things very well, so I'm not ready to break it off yet.  I plan to introduce a Mac mini to the routine.  Threesomes require a lot of diplomacy.  

How could it be that it's not even noon yet?!

2 minutes till, I swear time is teasing me, it does it on me on purpose. I finally have some thing to contribute to the TOE(Theory of Everything), and that is; time's a real dick.

Anyway, I'm really looking forward to my early afternoon nap. That's right I nap at work. There's a couch in one the rooms and a door that locks. Yes, I am willing to skip lunch in order to rest my weary head. A girl can only take so database, IT, and editing before needing to entertain her self with violent daydreams (thanks to Sci-Fi channel's old Saturday Anime line-up, on at 5AM-Robot Circus, Project A-Ko, Akira and bits of stuff that I only remember in nightmares).

Anyway, there's a lock on the door to that room, it's really dark and that sofa's like sleeping on a marshmallow. Way better than food. Okay, maybe not, but I can eat at my desk, I can't nap at it.

I loves me sum Japanese fashion

 Since this is from the mainstream press, I assume the trend is waning.    Hime gyaru, or princess girls, which seems like the bastard child of Lolitas and Co-gal fashion, is as most things Japanese, obsessive, insanely cute, expensive, skill intensives, and demands perfection.  I would like to dress like them, but for some reason most of the hot Japanese trends don't look so good on white girls.  



Dying my hair blond lacks the shock value of my Japanese counterparts, same thing with blue contacts.  I think the main reason is that I, and my ghostly pale, round eye counterparts, lack the drive for perfection.  Those Harijuku fashions don't work if you're going to be half assed about it.  It may not match, it might fit bizarrely, it might be a little too cold for that outfit, but the make-up's perfect, the hair expertly styled, the clothes carefully picked out.   It works like really good low-brow art.  It's tacky, the subject matter is pop-y, but with the right amount of skill, it looks great.  It has meaning.  And you know the silliness/absurdity was intentional, goddamn it.

My favorite style, which I hope is still around in some form, is the medical patient look.  Bandage, brace, slings, eyepatch, nurse and doctor-like coats.  Ohmigwad, how great, way better than stupid ol' goth, paint tray, Hot Topic shit.

Anyway here's the link;

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122713804938242481.html?mod=rss_Lifestyle#

Pills

I love pills!  I love my morning ritual of putting as many as I can in my mouth (3 at time!) and washing them down with soda.  Diet or regular, Coke, Pepsi, or Shasta.  At this point if I don't do this my whole day is off.  Which is why my weekends have such a strange, timeless, feel to them.  Not a good type of timelessness, one where the weekend feels like it might last forever, but one where morning, night, and afternoon seem to switch places with each other at random.  So why don't I just follow my pill ritual on the weekends? 

 I'll tell you why, I'm not at my desk, I'm not trying to look busy (although with all the pills, I might look more crazy than busy) , and I feel weird trying to consume my usual breakfast of soda, pills, "Oriental" snack crackers, and maybe a  donut at home.  I feel like I should actually eat breakfast style food.  And then I always sit on the couch at home too, so I lose that desky feel and have no easily accessible flat surface to rest my pill case on.  But the main reason, the real reason, is that my purse isn't on the floor next to me.  

I can't leave my purse on the floor, least the big eared, buck tooth, four pound beastie gets to it and chews the straps.  And without that purse open on the floor, with my pills peaking out at me, I just don't remember to do it.  I'm a creature of habit.  

5 Fun things to do during a "recession"

1)Make jokes about how everyone loves capitalism until somebody gets hurt.  It's such fun to watch militant capitalist ask for the government to bail them out.  But then again, we're not really capitalist, the same way we aren't actually a democracy.  We're a republic, goddamn it. And we've always practiced socialized capitalism, or is that, capitalistic socialism.  Okay, now I'm off track...

2) Make lame jokes about giving the economy prozac to help it get over it's depression.  We all know that this is just a phase, the one that all teens go through, and it'll get over it.  Don't pay any attention to it, you'll only encourage it.  

3) Drinking in the car before you go into the club.  Yes, relive those teen years, and early twenties, by BYOB, or better yet, BYOHL(Bring Your Own Hard Liquor).  Not only will you save money, you will also get the giddy thrill that comes from knowing you're doing something illegal.

4)Did you know that grocery stores throw out perfectly good, well,  eatable, food?  That's right, you go on the right night and you can get all the melted ice cream and almost rotten fruit you can eat.  

5)  Draw straws with friends to figure out who will move in with whom.  Short straw will be the "hostess."  And don't think of your new companions as roommates, think of them as slumber party guest who pay part of the rent.  Oh, what fun this depression, er-recession, will be.

Goodness, that fire alarm has been going off for quite a while now

But, we haven't budged. It's been going off for over a hour now.
It goes off about once a week, at this point if it doesn't, we start to worry. None of the neighbors have reacted to it either. We all pretend that everything is normal, we just shout our conversations and turn the volume on the TV way up. It's like we're all saying, in one beautiful, collective voice, "Fuck you fire alarm, fuuucccck you!"

But boy'll my face ever be red if this place really is on fire. Or maybe it'll be sooty. Or burnt off. Then I can live out my girlhood dreams and join a freak show in the deep South. Always look on the bright side of life.

Lord of the flies, or where the fuck did all these flies come from?

We seem to have be invaded by flies. Infiltrated. Violated. Well I don't feel violated, but M sure does. She's absolutely indignant about them, like this is part of the vast conspiracy against her. Well as the head conspirator in the vast conspiracy against her, let me state for the record, it is not. I do not enjoy having to watch my wine glass for suicidal bugs, because then I have to debate whether or not I should rescue them from a liquory death and if I should keep drinking once the bug, dead or alive, has been removed.
Anywho, we cannot figure out where they came from. We both see them, so they're not hallucinations. I think we're good housekeepers and choose to believe that they come in through the cracks in the window, near the air conditioner, because its hot out and our cooking always smells so good. M thinks because we must a secret mess that neither of us knows about, or knows the location of, but flies must be coming from it. She watches them, y'know, to find their secret nest. They're the ones who should be paranoid.

Ah, the subway...

On occasion, okay on a regular basis, I take the subway around town. One would think that taking the subway in Los Angeles, being several stories underground, know that if the power goes out it'll be the first time I've ever witnessed true darkness, and the possibility of earthquakes it would be scary enough. But not for me. I have recently developed a taste for subway related horror movies. Natural disaster simply isn't enough for that morning adrenaline rush, no, I need to think that there might me monsters, mutants, and psychopaths creeping around in the narrow subway tunnels. All the subway movies are based in places that have had an underground system for decades, with discontinued lines, blocked up passage ways, a subway grave yard... the LA subway system is only 18 years old. There are no secret tunnels, forgotten rail lines, there's no subway system below this one that was paved over to make way for the new line thereby infuriating ghost.

These movies, for the most part, are truly terrible, but there is one shining gem; Creep. Starring Franka Potente, of Lola Rennt fame, this movie manages to caputer all the most basic subway fears; falling a sleep at the station, missing the last train, and getting lock in for the night. With other people and one monster. The down side and upside of other people in any horror movie is that you, the heroine, can use the body count to as a count down to executing your brilliant save the day (for you) plan.
The other movies I've sat though are Knotrol and the Midnight Meat Train. The latter just has such a great title, it sounds like a gay porno, which is probably because it's by Clive Barker (y'know, Hellraiser). Knotrol is kinda more a psychological thriller set in a post Berlin Wall wall eastern Europe, which is enough to drive you crazy all on its own.
Anyway my point is that I cannot get on the subway without my gruesome death, not by being crushed by 1000s of pounds concrete, buried alive, or slowly but surely running out of air in pitch black darkness. No I need to think about where would monster hide, what's a good distance to stand away from the rails should someone push me, which one of my fellow passengers needs to be watched closely. I suppose this is because there's hope when there's monsters, etc, around. You can run, you can scream, you can plead and bargain, you can do a little damage. You can't do that when the tunnel collapses in on you. Ah, the subway...

Okay, I just thought of something to write about!

One of my favorite websites happens to be militantly homophobic, yet deliciously homoerotic, at the same time. This favored site, always good for a cheap laugh, is Americans for Truth, "a newly reorganized national organization devoted exclusively to exposing and countering the homosexual activist agenda." Oh, it is as great as it sounds. Their favorite topic is the Folsom Street Fair, a big, gay, leather, S & M festival held every year in San Francisco. The site is loaded with images of men wearing nothing more than a black censorship bar and sneakers. My god, they go on and on about these men and there sinful, yet seductive, bodies. So disgusting they just had to take a photo, to remember it better. You simply must check this out!
Furthermore, they strike me as little too knowledgeable about such forbidden sex act, like actually knowing what BDSM stands for and why water sports will never be a part of the Olympics.

Click on this long ass link to see for yourself
http://americansfortruth.com/news/tolerance-gone-wild-in-san-francisco-as-cops-stand-by-amidst-folsom-street-fairs-public-perversions-and-widespread-nudity.html

"These times, they are a changing..." Edna Turnblat

I've always wished I could have been around for the roaring 20s, but no I get to relive the 1930s. Anyway, during this historical time, a Greater Depression, the first black president of the US, gay marriage hanging the balance, I feel that there is one very important that we forget to think about. Me! Well actually issues of mental health and mainstream US/Western society deal with it. Hell, let's throw the East in there too.
So this blog is an attempt to overcome, or at least cope with, one of my many mental problems. With the semi-anonymity offered by the internet, this is the way I will attempt to assert myself over...um...myself. Wow, what a brilliant start, I should be able to attract a lot of loyal subscribers with this!