* golden state *

not the average fan reaction, i'm sure

2008-06-26T16:26:00.000-07:00

let me tell you a little something about me.

i do not like people. a person i might like, perhaps a small group of persons. but en masse? as a horde? no thank you, i will have thirteen vodka sodas, season 2 of angel* and a taco instead please.

because i know this about myself, i don't often go to shows. i don't like them. they last just a bit too long and it gets warm at indoor shows and cold at outdoor ones and there are too many people and those people are often drunk and inconsiderate and they smoke the pots. go ahead, smoke your pot, i don't care, but here? in public? not all of us want to smell it. it gives some of us migraines, ok? so next time you're going to a show and you want to get all cheech and chongy please make/bring brownies or i will come after you and only walk away once i've got your eyes in my hand like baoding balls. because that's what my migraines are like, and it's impolite not to share.

anyways, tuesday night i went on a date (!) to the hollywood bowl to see black francis and stone temple pilots. this is how the conversation went when i was invited:

him: do you want to go see stone temple pilots with me?
me: ...
him: at the hollywood bowl? it will be fun and it's kind of a big deal to me.
me: ... ...
him: so?
me: i need to consult my rabbi.

since my rabbi really had no opinion, i frantically IMed my best friend and she sagely replied: "if you think you can go and either have fun, or at least not let on that you're not having fun, then you should go. if you're going to be miserable about it, let him go with someone else who won't ruin it for him."

SHE KNOWS ME SO WELL. i ruin things for people. professionally.

anyways, i looked deep into my heart and decided that since once upon a time i had enjoyed both stone temple pilots and concerts, i would give it a try. also, it didn't hurt that it was free. that's so shallow! i can't believe i said that! oh wait, yes i can. i am but an empty room.

so tuesday night. we took the shuttle to the bowl (which i totally recommend because it makes the whole ordeal much less stressful) and got there right on time to be tossed to and fro like cute little seahorses in a giant sea of douchebags with fake boobs and really really bad hair. our seats were really good (center, terrace box, second row) which helped with my slight people problem. except for the fact that the other person in our box was FERAL. like this is pretty much her:

image by chad savage

she sat down with so much ANGER i was scared she might eat me. she was angrily sitting most of the evening, except for when she was angrily texting, or angrily smoking, or angrily shouting for scott weiland to "shut up and shoot up." needless to say, i (sitting quietly in the box with a lap blanket) was appalled. i wanted to smack her face!

i didn't because i thought she might cut me, but also when did i become such a crotchety old lady?

the show was good- i had forgotten how many songs of theirs i really liked. scott weiland is so skinny and i'm pretty confident that he's also probably like 30% gay but i do not care. i would still go there. i would go there in a house, i would go there with a mouse. ok, no mice. unless he's into that? i guess i could be negotiable.

the best part of the show (for me) was the end- and not because it was over but because after walking along the edge and shaking hands with audience members and taking pictures etc etc, mr. weiland (scott? can i call him that? probably only after we do it.) scooped up his children and carried them sweetly offstage into the night.

it was a really beautiful sight, full of hope and love and all of the things any of us wish for. i was so proud of a man i don't even know for getting himself together and figuring it out- good things CAN happen if you make them, if you work. it was immensely poetic, and that image will stay with me a long time.

plus hot rock guy dad makes my ovaries go all asplodey.

*aside: i have to say that back when this show first aired i was very upset that they killed off doyle so early in the series, and rewatching it now I AM JUST AS UPSET. FUCK YOU, TV EXECUTIVES. WESLEY (pfft, wesley) IS NO DOYLE. NO.

learning curve

2008-06-04T16:06:00.000-07:00

last night on my way to burlesque craft night, i stopped at wendy's for some "food." i just wanted some of those chickeny nuggets, you know? they're so salty and delicious. anyways, i pull into the fairly long driveway line behind some guy in a nicer car than mine. i'm listening to my music, trying not to make eye contact with the employee having his break at the table outside because HELLO AWKWARD I HAVE NO WHERE TO LOOK BUT AT A PIMPLY TEEN, and about a minute passes when he starts gesturing out the window. i sort of ignore it, because who am i to judge someone making shadow puppets or whatnot, regardless of time or location?

then he leans out the window and yells at me.

"BACK UP."

uh, whut? i turn down my music.

"BACK UP SO I CAN GET OUT."

please take a look at this wendy's. you can see it here. I don't know if you can tell from that, but pretty much it's in an inconvenient location at a very busy intersection, and this man wanted me to back up INTO THE SIX LANES OF TRAFFIC STREET so he could exit the line.

"COME ON."

"where am i supposed to go? you want me to back up into the street???"

and then he said, "JUST DO IT. DON'T GET ALL DRAMATIC DARLIN'."

yes you read that correctly. my hackles were raised. my face warmed. i backed up slowly and carefully and let him out.

when i pulled back into line, i looked into his car and noticed a woman in the passenger side.

as i sat there, waiting my turn, the heat boiled up in me. how rude of him! how condescending! dramatic?? for that?? and DARLIN'? that muthafucka. i'll kill him.

then (quite suddenly) i realized he's that girl's boyfriend, or worse- husband. he treated me, a stranger, that way and she has to deal with it regularly. without any warning i was reminded of all the times a man would say to me "you're overreacting" when i absolutely was not- the times he would say, "you're being crazy" or some variation there of when all i was being was independent, or in possession of reasonable expectations from a man who was supposed to love me.

and then, out of that, while i still felt sorry for the woman in the car, i was taken over with pride in myself- that i don't let people speak to me that way anymore and that i recognized it so quickly in someone new.

there are warning signs, i know this, and it's hard to read them when there are emotions involved (lust is an emotion, right?), but days pass and i grow ever more sure of my literacy.

on blogging

2008-06-02T16:13:00.000-07:00

when i made this blog public again my intention was to post regularly. i love writing- i'm good at it- i have no shortage of interesting things about which to write- and i was sure i was ready for this commitment.

perhaps i was wrong? i don't know that i have the energy to do this. what i need is a good old fashioned cocaine habit. the thing about living life fully is that you can't find adequate time to write about it fully. and then someday, when my brain is addled and my boobs and triceps hang low like vines i will not be able to remember the funny way the hair grows on his inner forearm or the way she smells so strongly of pikake flowers and that pains me.

i want to capture it all- i want to be able to hold on to every bit of this. last sunday? i danced with a wirey and barely 21 guy at a rockabilly show. he had a two-tone wedge haircut and his license photo was adorable and he simulated playing an upright bass on me in time with the actual bass player as he spun me round and round, his hand on my waist and i was TheOlderWoman, if only innocently, if only ephemerally, and i want to remember that.

the date i went on with the guy in the bicycle sweater? the day i learned to ride a bike (this was only like two months ago, fyi, because i am remedial)? winning viva? the guy who woke up before me and fed my cats?? this is my life, and i want it all neatly filed and organized in air-tight see-through bins, with well-composed photos and perhaps scent cards and without a doubt pithy commentary.

this weekend i'm going to the miss exotic world burlesque hall of fame weekender again and i hope to have stories to tell you, because a few years from now (and i know this already from my dusty archives) i will read them and relive the most impressive moments of my life- be they big moments or little moments or mostly insignificant moments that have shaped me.

begin.

some things never change

2008-05-07T16:47:00.000-07:00

so i'm sure you're convinced that in the year since i last posted regularly i've been off being glamorous, doing things like:

bathing only in heated pools of fiji brand water
wearing only things that have been hand-sewn and beaded for me by tiny elves living deep in a mushroom forest
dating fabulous men who appreciate me and treat me with respect
having my bones replaced with adamantium
training my cats to fetch my pills

only one of these things is actually true. i'm guessing you know which one.

anyways, the truth is this. i actually HAVE been off being glamorous. i always sort of thought my life would be amazing and i would get to dress up in great outfits and bigtallshoes and have fancy hair and makeup and ridiculous eyelashes and then i'd go out to parties and bars and restaurants and for a long time this was all just a sort of disorganized fantasy i almost didn't even know i was having... and then i realized one day i was doing it. i'm living the life i always played out with my barbies, except with slightly more booze (slightly meaning hand over the vodka or i will likely end up in prison for your brutal front-page murder) and significantly less sex. it was fucking melrose place in my barbie beach house.

the point of all this is that I AM FABULOUS. and yet.

so remember when i got smooshed in my car? smooshed like grape! so it's now two plus years later and i finally got my bills paid. the check arrived and after i had rubbed it all over my naked body parts i cashed it... then i was going to rub all those bills all over my naked body parts but i remembered money is kind of dirty and also i am kind of neurotic and then i thought about that for while because i sort of got preoccupied with the idea of all the itsybitsy germies and all the hands that have touched each dollar and did you know that more often than not a man doesn't wash his hands and so every time you touch a doorknob or a dollar you are pretty much covered in second-hand wang? anyways, i paid off some debt.

then i bought a dyson.

that's right. glamorous sparkly impeccably-dressed me spent my "free money" on a vacuum cleaner. AND IT IS GLORIOUS. when i first held it and ran it across my carpeted floor i was breathless with its magnificent power. if it were a human, i would have sexed it on the spot. it wasn't until i looked at all the cat fur stuck in its container that i realized i was living in squalor. but really, once i was done shaving the cats i felt better. they didn't mind too much. i only lost one eye.

so the dyson is amazing and i love it and i would gladly have its unusually heavy but aesthetically-pleasing yellow babies. it is because of this fact that i can relate the following: like most canister vacuums, the dyson is not terribly easy to empty in a seamlessly clean manner. there's always dust flare up, which irritates both my eyes and my ungodly OCD. so i just carry the canister right down to the dumpster and let the dust flare up into the great big gray sky of los angeles, where it clearly belongs.

it was just such a moment, this past sunday, after having vacuumed all the many metric tonnes of discarded cat and sequins and glitter from my floors (and couches, because hot damn if that dyson doesn't have a sweet-ass hand attachment) that i found myself in a predicament. in a moment of sheer... well, sheer me... i dropped the canister right to the bottom of that foul and most-wretched stinkbox.

and because i love that GODDAMNED dyson so fucking much you better believe i hoisted myself into that dumpster, my legs flailing like party streamers in the air, just to get it back out.

i risked my life for a vacuum cleaner. the force is strong with this one... if by force you mean "neuroses" or "issues" or "just plain crazy." which of course, if you know me at all, you probably do.

i've gone public.

2008-05-01T17:10:00.000-07:00

it's been a year i think since i went private, and in that year i've posted very very little. i'm not sure if i will post more this way or if i will start over but i'm tired of this little niche i carved for myself being cut off from the world.

i'm proud of what i created here, so i'm unleashing it upon you once again.

please enjoy, with a side of photos from my victory at viva las vegas.

i totally won.

2008-04-14T18:14:00.001-07:00

i have no pictures, but when i find them, they're yours!

oh by the way....

2008-02-28T17:02:00.000-08:00

if anyone cares, i didn't get in to viva. i came in seventh, and the top six get to go.

but then number six dropped out... so i'm currently building a giant collapsible birdcage to trek on over to the gold coast hotel and casino come april 12th!

wish me luck!

(unrelated, i'm considering a new blog, non-private, under a new name. thoughts?)

Voting January 1 - 31

2008-01-02T00:35:00.000-08:00

CLICK TO GO TO THE VOTING PAGE!!

i'm in the tenth row, on the left. you can vote once per IP Address. if you have access to more than one, please use them! also, feel free to repost this banner!!! (i might make a better one tomorrow.)

i am a busy busy bee

2007-09-25T12:17:00.000-07:00

oh hai people! i's still alive.

i've been mighty busy with burlesque shows and work and costuming etc etc, and my birthday is this weekend so i'm sure i'll be up to my eyeballs in vodka drinks, but i wanted to show you something.

photos from my recent shoot with Betty C, a local photographer. these are the un-retouched straight out of the camera shots. YAY ME!

burlesque!

2007-08-27T19:24:00.000-07:00

presenting... my debut. the costume has now been upgraded- as have my moves, so this isn't really an accurate depiction, but you get the idea.

i have done two different numbers, performed many times, including in a show at the amazing sunset junction. i'm currently costuming for an upcoming halloween photoshoot and a number that involves delivering the news... but since all talk and no boobie pics makes jack a dull boy, here are some things for your delight.

interviewed by yournamehere

2007-07-25T11:41:00.000-07:00

5. Besides family and friends, what do you miss most about the east coast?

food, glorious food! suppertime! there are foods there i can't get here (dunkin donuts, delicious seafood like maine lobster and fried clams, kelly's roast beef), and really, besides the family and friends, what else is there????

4. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

oh geez. are we talking physical or otherwise? i'm a very logical kind of girl, so i've given this question a good deal of thought. physically speaking, i would change the one thing that bothers me most, because the other things i could technically change through something i hear is called "diet and exercise." so the physical change i would make in myself- i would have magic hair (head and body) that would grow in the areas and to the length i decided. if we're talking non-physical, well there are two things. i would like to be more assertive and more patient, with myself and others. but i'm working on both.

3. Which is your favorite neighborhood or area of Los Angeles?

wow, this is hard. i love so many things about LA. chinatown is great, i love the metro stations there that look like pagodas. the venice canals/beaches are gorgeous. fairfax is a good place to hangout because it's fairly central and not scary. (that's a bad reason to like an area, isn't it?) i feel like there are so many things in LA i've not seen that i can't make an educated decision. there are things to value just about everywhere... for instance: dollar taco stands. wherever the tacos are is my favorite part of LA.

2. Do you have a personal role model?

that's an excellent question. i don't think i have one person in particular that i look to as an example, but more so aspects of many people that i admire and hope to cultivate in myself. some of those people are reading this right now, i'd imagine.

1. Who is the douchiest celebrity you've seen out in public?

i've not seen that many celebrities, to be honest. i don't hang around the right places. i met drusilla from buffy and she was very kind and even wrote my mom a note. (mom's a big fan.) most of the douchey people i know are just regular. sorry.

i'm supposed to offer to interview you now, but really, i won't do that. so if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, feel free. i will answer them.

yes, we have no strawberries.

2007-07-18T14:14:00.000-07:00

because i am trying to be honest with myself about this on all counts, i will write it out here: i did better this time. i should be proud of that.

while i obviously still screwed it up by choosing to be interested in someone who was either truly unavailable or just not willing to be more so (and i'll never really know which), at least in other respects he was a good man.

and while i know i should just let it go, i find myself still sadly hoping.

because of that, i will not be pursuing anything else- not that i was before anyways. he came as a complete surprise... but i think i need to devote more time to me, so that maybe when i meet someone in the future, i'll do even better.

in other news, in addition to the massive amounts of travel i had already planned on logging in this summer (two trips to SF, a trip to san diego, and an early autumn visit to AZ) i apparently will be flying cross country to attend a barbecue with strangers, because that's the kind of girl i am. you know, the kind who will fly over 2000 miles to distract herself... and to reclaim her life and her joy in being alone.

those strawberries were delicious though, while i had them.

dear blog:

2007-07-09T12:08:00.000-07:00

you should have a seat, sugar. this could take a while. i'm just going to type and see where we end up.

"all my friends say that of course it's gonna get better..."

it's been nearly a month, and a really wonderful month it's been. to be fair, my life has been nothing but lovely since the moment i struck out on my own. i meant it when i said i loved it here in LA- i have a beautiful life and i sometimes get quiet for a moment just to appreciate it. that's what happened on the fourth of july, when ariel said i was awfully quiet- i was just appreciating the lucky way things fall together sometimes, that allow a person to spend a whole day off talking and making pretty objects with a good friend... and how that's a certain type of independence that should also be celebrated, but daily.

and because i have enjoyed being a free agent as it were, and because i had no intention of having more than a passing interest in a man, scoundrel or no... of course the worst has happened.

i have spent much of the last month planning for my burlesque debut (which went well, pictures soon i hope) and in the company of a certain gentleman. it's all very strange i think. the first time i met him, we got on well enough but there was nothing romantic of which to speak. the second time though, something had shifted. perhaps he revealed another aspect of his personality- perhaps i realized i wanted something other than what i had thought. either way, we flirted a bit and then a bit more.

and here it is- a month later- and i have found myself at a point i do not enjoy. since you are private now, blog, i feel i can say this without polish, without thinking, without worry.

i like him, and i do believe he likes me. NOW WHAT?

fuck.

he's currently on "hiatus" from a very time-consuming job, which is great- but what of when he returns to work and suddenly has no time? he's been nothing but honest about this eventuality... and i appreciate that... but what the hell do i do with that information? what do i do when he says, "yes, i'm busy, i don't know that i will have time, but you, you're beautiful, you're wonderful, i want you to stay tonight."

what now?

do i continue to see him? do i break it off? i don't want to struggle for someone's attention. i don't want to be a beck and call girl to anyone. i want to be a priority. i know he wants to spend time with me, but if he has none, what good does that desire do me?

if i went to the supermarket with the intention of buying strawberries and they would give me none, would i care if it were because they had none or if it were because they just didn't want to? either way, i would leave without any.

so the question is this: do i hold out for strawberries even though they might be few and far between? or do i try other fruits, of which i'm sure some might be good, even though they're not really what i want, not at all, not even a little bit?

*EDIT*: strawberries do not demand fruit choice exclusivity... however, i don't really do fruit salad... i don't like to mix foods, especially when one is something i enjoy so fully.

becoming los angeles

2007-06-13T12:17:00.001-07:00

lately something has been changing. for a good while i couldn't put my finger on it, but i knew it was there, pushing in on me from all directions. i could feel it in the air and in the water, in my bed while i slept.

i woke up one morning this week and realized what it is- i'm happy here, alone in los angeles.

of course i'm not actually alone- i have some amazing and diverse friends who have helped me to find this new love. but there it is. things here are wonderful.

when i broke up with exBoy last year, it was the beginning of the upswing- i began spending more time with my lovely ladies and less at home. i went to knitting groups more- i went to festivals and dinners and classes. i learned my way around- i found more crafts and places to dance. when i moved out april 1st, it was as if everything finally fell into place. the first time i went out on a weeknight without anyone to come home to i felt dangerous... and free.

so i've been on some dates (all firsts, no seconds. though there was a 1.5 with the sexican...) and i've gone out with my girls, and i've hosted guests and been to parties and learned that i really like being on my own.

which is why i resent my current state of "crush" so intensely. you see, i don't want to like a boy (or man or guy or whatever.) i want to devote myself to the metric shittonne of rhinestoning necessary to be ready for my two (2!) july performances. i want to have time for sewing and sunday afternoon gelato with friends. and yet... well that's a post for another time. preferably a time after he's taken me out for dinner!

and that dinner better be good, seeing as he's a native angeleno. i want to know all the secret spots so i can better experience my new love- and i do mean the city. for now.*

*kidding.**
**maybe.***
***who knows? stop pressuring me! i'm not ready coach! don't put me in the game!

CRAP

2007-06-07T16:56:00.000-07:00

i had every intention of posting today, but i actually had to work.

that said, i'm going to vegas this weekend for the exotic world competition/expo, and so will have to catch you up on monday or tuesday.

there is much to learn, students... for instance, how many tamales can i eat? will i go on a date ever again? where is the beef?

these answers and more, loves. much more.

the first pancake

2007-06-04T16:55:00.000-07:00

there's a little joke amongst my friends that beginning to date again is like making pancakes; the first one is always wrong, too greasy or uncooked. progressively, they get better... but someone has to be the first pancake.

here is the story of my first pancake.

his name was peter. we emailed for a while through salon's personals, and he seemed nice, and non-threatening, and genetically male*, and perhaps funny. bonus: he once worked for the TOS message boards, which sort of makes me weak in the knees. <3 star trek! <3

anyway, we decided to meet at the farmer's market... and i had an easy out just in case in the form of pinksara, with whom i was supposed to attend a burlesque show later than evening. so i left work and set off for the market in my cute leopard print pedalpushers and pompadour. the way i figure it, i should wear something a little weird right off the bat so they know who they're dealing with. thus the peg pants.

i was ready to rumble.

i arrived at the market and as i got out of my car, i noticed the zipper in my pants was down. so i pulled at it- and completely ripped the entire top of my pants off. HULK SMASH! the waistband and zipper were just... gone. conveniently, i had a long green scarf with me, which i tied jauntily about my waist, and then i wandered sadly into the farmer's market.

i saw him from about 30 feet away.

there was nothing inherently wrong, but i knew it wasn't right. i hadn't been expecting much, which worked to my advantage. i figured, i'll stay an hour then make my escape. i sat down.

he was remarkably skinny. he seemed sort of judgemental of my tattoos- but purely out of ignorance. he was very midwestern, and yet he said "dude" alot. he was antsy, kept drumming his fingers on the table. there was a "ratatatatat" sound as he did so, seemingly louder than fingers should make. i continued the conversation, ignoring it.

the sound continued as well, ignoring me.

i noticed that with each eruption of noise, peter seemed to adjust his weight.

you've got to be kidding me. is he farting? continuously? and without shame? PLEASE GOD TELL ME THIS IS A JOKE AND CLIVE OWEN IS GOING TO COME SWEEP ME UP IN HIS ARMS AND WE'LL TURN INTO BIRDS TO FLY FAR FAR AWAY FROM FIRST PANCAKE PETER.

and then, quite suddenly, in the middle of the conversation, pancake peter exclaimed, "so anyway it was nice to meet you, i'll talk to you later!" and just as quickly as he could, he ran off into the night...

in the direction of the restrooms...

never to be seen nor heard from again.

so i'm pretty sure that as long as my future dates can refrain from shitting their pants (wombat, if you weren't already married, we'd have to work on this one) then the pancake joke will become truth. already it REEKS of truthiness...

or perhaps that is something else altogether?

why we are playing anne frank

2007-05-31T17:06:00.001-07:00

so.

the reason we have gone into hiding is pretty much this: besides the growing concern that my job would find this, the more pressing issue was (and remains) that exBoy simply does not understand that we are broken up. he continues to call, text, IM, email, myspace stalk, and generally harass me regarding what i might or might not be doing. ignoring him eventually gets him to stop temporarily- but more often feeds the fire, where he thinks every non response is a direct "yes." because obviously i am making out with a different boy every damn night and getting hookers and doing blow. i think he may have me confused with someone else.

in order to feel like i could blog freely about anything- not just dating, but anything i was doing- i wanted it to be away from him, untouched by him. i want my life to be ALL MINE.

so that's why we're all up in this attic. keep your voices down when you hear a knock.

in other news, let me share with you the first in what i'm sure will be a highly entertaining for you and painful for me ongoing series of my dating tips for menz.

TIP: if you are trying to convince a girl (and i only say girl because these tips are based on my REAL LIFE EXPERIENCES) to be your girlfriend, that you really like her and all that romantical bullshit, perhaps it would be unwise of you to leave a crumpled up condom wrapper on your floor, even if it is very impressive magnum xl.

seeing this "golden ticket" makes a girl think one of three things:
1. you have had sex recently, and thus are a)not as interested as you appear, b) a horrible lying kid of person, c)a giant one-stop shop for veneral diseases.

2. you have had sex not all that recently, but have also not cleaned all that recently which is disgusting.

3. you sprinkle condom wrappers around your apartment in an effort to appear cool. this is the creepiest of the three options. if this is the case, please delete yourself.

please pass this tip along as you see fit. it can only help.

welcome to my lair

2007-05-30T13:30:00.000-07:00

pants optional!

i'm working on a real explanation of the shh shh secret-ness, but first i must eat a hotdog.

also, i apparently have to explain to my bosses at the ADVERTISING agency at which i work that i was MISquoted in the LA times about "hating commercials."

this would of course happen to me.

going private

2007-05-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

the switch will occur at some point this week. i am out sick today, but i will get right on it just as soon as i'm back in the office.

you can't wait.

i have some real gems for you.

town meeting!

2007-05-23T11:56:00.000-07:00

ok here's the thing: i am thinking of privatizing this here blog so that i can write what i want with out fearing who might read it.

as i understand it, you send me your email and i decide if i want you to read about my life and then if so i send you an invite to my secret blog hideout in the side of the mountain.

thoughts?

*EDIT* if i don't have your email, leave it or email it to me.

i've been tagged

2007-05-09T16:20:00.000-07:00

which is good probably, otherwise i might never have come back. i'm working on it, i swear, but sometimes it's hard to present myself for your approval.

anyway, this meme is about food, and since i am a huge fattie in a less huge body, i really like to think about this sort of stuff. just recently i decided that my ideal vacation would be an official eating tour. the kind where you know, i eat my way through the state, then the country... THEN THE WORLD.

The rules:

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country you’re in.

Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, USA)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Todd (Louisville, Kentucky, United States)
miss kendra (los angeles, california, u.s.a)

2. List out your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location.

3. Tag 5 other people (preferably from other countries/states) and let them know they’ve been tagged.

here's the part where i sucker out- this was really hard. i don't have five favorites in LA! i don't go out to eat bitches, because that requires having money to burn, and i have serious habits to keep up with. the underage hookers and mountains of blow* are not going to buy themselves.

anyway, the list:

1. the vegan joint is nearby, and while it looks like nothing special from the outside, inside there is some really spectacular thai. AND! because it's vegan, i can order whatever i want and not worry about my allergies, which is pretty cool. not only do they have delicious thai (i want to fill a bathtub with spicy mint noodles and then eat my way out), but also breakfasty foods like vegan pancakes and tofu scrambles, and a surprisingly excellent chocolate cake. i don't even like chocolate cake! bonus: it's just down the street from a cute vintage store that i like. yay!

2. like i said, i don't get out much. thus, limited in my repertoire to choose from... but i went to this place (malo) a while ago, and i recall it being pretty darn good. the ambiance is nice, sort of hip but not too intimidating. the reason i don't recall more is this: the food was nice, but the sangria was much much nicer.

3. now i'm going to cheat a little, and tell you the food i miss most from the east coast: revere beach's kelly's roast beef. but ONLY the one on revere beach, the original location. it has no seating, unless you count the curb or the beach wall across the street, but so worth it. if you can't get over there, i also recommend bill and bob's on the salem to beverly bridge (open late for those four martini evenings), or land n' sea in peabody. when i go home to visit, roast beef is high on my list of things to do. both kelly's and land n' sea also offer some highly desirable fried clams. mmmmmm.

4. another cheat: kowloon is possibly the most fun chinese restaurant ever. please note in the facilities section, the "tiki lagoon." i want to live there, and have all of my meals under the watchful eyes of that stone man. also, there is an entire section of their website devoted to the celebrities that have been there. the service is mostly crap, but the food is pretty good and the drinks are capital S Strong. plus, tiki lagoon!!

5. back to LA: my favorite place to eat. you may or may not know this about me, but i adore burgers and burritos. i would eat them exclusively given the chance. for burgers, many places are quite good- but for burritos? tacos por favor. in santa monica, it looks like nothing from the street and is not extensively decorated inside, but the food is really good and they make their own fresh watermelon juice! sometimes they run a little heavy on the onion, but i will forgive them because they rule me, and i would give them my first born child** in exchange for food if they wanted me to.

for an extra treat, i also like scooby's for chilidogs. pink's is acceptable, but scoob is better. so that's it. now i'm hungry.

i tag, if they are interested, stacy, nick, jiggs casey and slappy (also of jiggsblog fame), and valancy jane.

* yarn/makeup/rhinestones

** but not my cats

photoshop is my bff

2007-05-02T12:21:00.000-07:00

warning: this post is rubbish.

currently i am making mockups of my next 4852093845 tattoos. photoshop is totally the best thing ever.

not photoshopped.

i know i haven't been so bloggy, and i really have no explanation except that i am letting all of my creativity out elsewhere. and not just photoshopping tattoos (which i am quite skillful at, fyi)! i am knitting my first shirt (for me,) working on a VERY important babygift, and trying to make my ankle work properly so i can do burlesque and wear pretty shoes again because as you know, i have serious priorities.

i just bought these pretty shoes. i am about to go to the fabric store so i can sew a dress to match them (again, priorities), which i will wear when i go to las vegas in june. that's right, i'm a-goin to vegas for to see some shimmyshakin in june. where i can i get spf 9million? also, do you think it's inappropriate to bring my cats? they do both look nice in blue.

welcome home contest

2007-04-19T15:34:00.000-07:00

i realize i have yet to make the pasties i owe our most recent winners, but whatever. my home needs a name.

wooooooooooooo! another contest!

something creative, something elegant, something that makes me giggle. and your inspiration? behold: a photo tour of my manor. clicky for biggie, as there are captions.

miss kendra goes to the zoo

2007-04-17T14:02:00.000-07:00

so my friend, the world-famous d'mang, came to LA last weekish to help me move and hangout and generally see what the deal with california is. in the spirit of misskendraluck(tm) of course, it was grey skies and wildfires all week, and since i was still on crutches for most of his stay, he also had to do all sorts of crap like help with my laundry and listen to me moan about my grocery store scooter/cart contraption being toooooo slooooow. amish people get places faster. much faster.

apart from all the tedium of moving etc, we did do some interesting things, like see a fabulous burlesque show and go to my favorite club (behold, drunken backseat artsy photographer me!) and eat about 3492867 burritos, and then on a whim, we went to the (also) world-famous san diego zoo, where i rented yet another scooter, and let me tell you. there is no complaining about the scooter speed at the zoo. that thing could take out a swarm of kindergarteners in .06 seconds. in fact i kept trying, but kindergartners are so wiggly you know.

at the zoo we saw many many things, including a fresh elephant poo and some mildly disturbing birdsecks. also things like meerkats (verdict: cute), madagascar's famous fosa (verdict: cute) and tapirs (verdict: very creepy independently moving nose). there were plenty of people too ignorant and lazy to read the signs, even to their inquisitive children, and so i learned through my magnificent eavesdropping powers that this is a "rare" banana snake and this is a "common" black bear. we also saw lots of people who are apparently blind to the handicapped, as they would stand or walk directly in front of my scooter as if it were not there. this made for some heart-pounding moments in which i had to decide if i should suddenly BRAKEexclamationpoint! or just run down those dumb fuckers like they deserved.

mostly i braked. mostly.

we also saw some pandas.

this panda, like all pandas, sleeps and eats.
that is all. no matter how long you stand there.

and camels

yes, i know camels aren't that special.
but i like them, so shove it.

and a beautiful family of giraffe

this is the adolescent. quite the pinup, no?

and a playful rhinoceros

he's playing tetherball i think. he's not that good.

and one of my favorites, the hiphopapotamus

his name is jabba. he is fat.
he is ok with it.

just look at his blissed out buddha face.

we also saw gorillas (one came right up to the glass and laid down in front of it like he was displaying himself at a wake. he just laid there, in traditional burial pose.)

and the monkeys:

not to be outdone by some gorilla,
the one on the left there presented her swollen genitals
to the other (and to us) just before this photo was taken.
after her rejection (thank god) she shrugged and commenced picking nits.

now this last one is really spectacular. oh yes it is. (channeling monkey?)

you know i am not a fan of birds, but d'mang wanted to check out the aviary- it's one of the largest i hear- and so i and my speedy scooter obliged. i even maybe liked some of what i saw, pausing to take this picture of a fancypants blue-crowned pigeon, as it was rather lovely.

but see this photo did not quite capture what i was hoping for,
which is why i was so suprised when the damn bird turned,
looked at me pointedly and then FLEW DIRECTLY AT MY HEAD.
it was like this... go on, guess who's who.
the bird just did not want its picture taken!
needs rehab! bad crown day!

c/o natalie dee.

the unbearable something of being

2007-04-11T15:58:00.001-07:00

i have not been here because i have not been here. i cannot post because i haven't posted.

nothing seems suitable, i am not interested in anything at all.

for a long time i thought i would be A Writer, but aside from what i have written here in the last two years, i have written nothing at all. i was (am?) quite good- i included it in my Identity- and now that i am without it, i struggle to understand where it has gone.

i am in a phase again. i don't know what it's about, or how i came into it. i feel as if i have so much to do that i will never be done. daily the list grows and i accomplish so little. i am overwhelmed by guilt when i am sitting on my couch. i make lists, as if that will help me to control what there is to do, but there is just so much and no time and no money.

i am tired, and yet i struggle to sleep.

in a month i should be able to walk normally, without the boot. in a month i should be able to have my debut, and yet i think i may have lost my nerve. the other night i was out at a bar and found myself quite sensitive to the stares of others. don't look at me, please. your eyes burn mine.

this is my first week alone in my apartment. i feel pressure to feel something about it. i'm worried that i will spend the entire weekend inside without speaking to anyone.

i need to lose ten pounds. i need to stop worrying about ten pounds.

julius is sick again. nimoy's ear is red. tonight i will begin another course of antibiotics and hope it's enough to keep them out of the vet's office until i get paid.

i want a bicycle. i think that riding the boardwalk might clear me out some, might put me back inside my body instead of my mind.

i am not a monkey

2007-04-02T17:59:00.000-07:00

try as i might, i'm just not.

i am alive, the move went well. i am on my way to a passover seder, and at some point this week i hope to tell you more about my move and my new apartment.

you are awesome, i am a slacker.

hey guess what, i'm not dead

2007-03-27T14:13:00.000-07:00

i have nothing to say. i'm sorry. i don't know where i've been, and i don't know how to get back.

i'm moving this weekend (still on crutches), and will be offline much of the following week.

so you don't forget me, i leave you with this hauntingly sexy picture of my legs that i took at the ortho last week when he removed my first cast.

oh yeah.

winners! we're all winners!

2007-03-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

i know, i suck so hard lately. i haven't been blogging like, at all. but here's the thing- it's not so much the broken ankle that blows, but more so the not being able to walk or carry anything because my hands are full of crutches and vicodin.

and there's also the gigantor muscle knot stuck way down inside my hot overheating death cast where i can't do anything to help it. that too.

since mostly i just sit on the couch, i made this little video with my camera where you can see my drug of choice, complete with me whining (ultra-sexily) for more at the end. i am a junkie.

at some point this week i will regale you with my apartment hunting foibles (foibles? really?), but right now we have some contest crap to deal with. you can read all the entries in the comments of my previous post, and then come back here for some well thought out (and not at all hasty or slapdash) responses:

faith: i never knew you thought i was so sexxxxxy. i mean, i am. but i didn't know you knew.

jurgen nation: bryan adams signed my cast? actually, when i was eleven (maybe) i stepped on a rusty rake and had to have my foot bandaged and some tetanus shots and that was the summer of "all for love (robin hood)" and i would have totally been wayyyyy into this story then. not that i'm not now. but then, i would fight for you...i'd lie for you, walk the wire for you, i'd die for you... you know it's true

everything i do

oooh

i do it for you

brooke: sex whilst sky diving does not seem like something i would do. i am not outdoorsy. except that one time. surely you are projecting, you ham hussy.

kathy: sting is incredibly unsexy to me. i'm sorry, and i know that many many women disagree, but i find him sort of icky. he's too wirey, and also old. and also mooshy.

spinnerina: scrimshaw! rickshaw! narwhal! siamese twins! shetland pony!

laurieann: the assailant was mighty furry, now that you mention it. are you watching me?

jiggs casey: a dozen kittens?!?!?!? you know the way to my heart.

marcie: britney spears needs a friend. poor poor girl. let's have her over for tea.

monkey: my foot was a banana table? AND they pooped? i did not issue the proper permits for this sort of foot usage!

tim: scut farkas can kiss my butt.

acw:- is this a threat?

colleen: hotglue would never work- it becomes brittle when dry! but mega points for mentioning leonard nimoy.

Hal I Burton: the cast of full house? really? sure the stamos part was cool, but he was so last year on this blog.

pink sara: i don't want to be achilles! then i have to make out with my man servant. oh, wait. hmmm.

sarah smile: yes. the terrible and most fearsome candygram. i mean land shark.

uccellina: this is incredibly true to life, and the use of rhyme is admirable. now take those smarty pants off and share with the rest of us.

princess: i was peeping on the hoff? i'm blind! i didn't realize my readers thought so poorly of my taste in men.

ubermilf: this seems highly plausible, as patrick swayze is definitely of questionable niceness.

trevor: lies, all lies.

pants: richard marx and gary coleman in one fell swoop? there is a small part of me (no pun intended) that prefers emmanuel lewis, but still, you kill me.

the roy: i like the part with the shoes best, just a touch more than when i kick the crap out of everyone. and fyi, i actually own leopard shoes. they're very awesome.

tits: braless unicorns? chocha? i love you.

todd:
10. i hate you.
9. he never called. again, hating.
8. now loving.
7. little person, todd. little person in a gimp suit.
6. i have never been to red lobster.
5. ike turner can suck it.
4. from a dude on the median at fairfax and venice! offramp shopping = bad idea.
3. YES.
2. poor poor britney.
1. best response ever.

so here's the thing- since i have so many stories, and truthfully, have another two weeks atleast in this godforsaken medical ugg, i will be needing multiple stories with which to amuse myself at the expense of the gullible masses.

thus, several winners.

spinnerina!

laurieann!

uccelina!

tits mcgee!

and the only winning penis-weilder (that i am aware of anyways, and i don't mean to make assumptions), yournamehere!

hooray! PRIZES!!!

those aren't your actual prizes- those are some that i made special for a certain other group of ladies (watch the mail bitchez). you will be receiving your own custom pasties just as soon as i can get my butt to the pastie supply store. except todd, who was offered man pasties, but declined in favor of a tchotchke.

a pastie on a shelf is a tchotchke. just saying.

nothing is happening here contest

2007-03-06T14:10:00.000-08:00

mostly i just sit around and complain that my foot/ankle/leg hurts.

or my butt from all the sitting. or my hands from the crutches, or my delicate flowery heart from the fact that scut farkas never called. just kidding, i don't care that he never called. i'd rather hear from the lawyer.

since it gets really boring telling people what happened, i have invented a game where i get to tell a new story whenever i feel like it. i'm going to give you some brief and under-developed examples, and then i am holding a contest, wherein you could actually win a prize*, based on who makes up the best** story about how i broke my damn ankle. please post it in the comments section.

* you can see past contests and prizes over here and here.
**best means whatever i feel like right then.

example one: the original

i was attacked by ninjas. tiny ninjas. and i have obviously proven myself very mighty indeed, as they only broke my ankle. those feeble tiny ninjas, so feeble. and also tiny.

example two: via some dude at the lava lounge

i fell off the stage in a jennifer connelly look-a-like contest. celebrating my win of course.

example three: at the march meeting of "wine club"

this is what happens when you become an official member of wine club. and from then on, you can't talk about wine club.

example four: also at wine club

i was on pimp my ride, and xhibit totally ran over my foot. he was really nice about it though, and i got to be on tv.

now you go. and don't skimp on things like strippers, super powers, crystal meth, feathers, and gratuitous nudity.

a pickup story

2007-03-01T15:09:00.001-08:00

last night, at the final night of the lava lounge, i got sort of hit on by this guy.

otherwise known as this guy:

he was SUPER nice, and acted as the personal bodyguard for my broken ankle, protecting it from the stumbling drunken hordes. i didn't even recognize him at first, and was surprised to find out that he was indeed who i thought he might be, considering how kind and completely non-actory he had been all night.

he even bought me a gingerale (because contrary to popular local opinion, drinking and vicodin don't mix) and presented it to me sans roofie. that's class.

so i roofied him instead. just for fun, mind you. i'm not breaking my no sex in 07 rule for scut farkus!

yet.

just kidding.

for now.

kidding again.

maybe.

idle hands are the devil's workshop...

2007-02-27T17:45:00.000-08:00

...but idle feet make me awfully productive. i guess when you're not doing pesky things like walking (which, incidentally, i gave up for lent. because i am devout like that.) you can do lots of other things, like knit and sew and glue shiny rhinestones on EVERYTHING.

so that's what i've been doing. while on drugs. which is just as fun as it sounds, i promise.

here are some baby gift sets i've made in the last month, with the top two being finished over this past weekend. obviously walking is stupid and time-consuming, as it has clearly been hindering their completion. thus i do not miss walking at all. nope. not. at. all.

and here, as promised, are some pictures of my "injury accessories." the stock options were embarassing, so i had to pimp my ride as it were. initially i used your basic crafting rhinestones, but i soon realized that they were not nearly as resplendent as i needed them to be. so ariel took me downtown to the crystal store, where i will be moving in, to live forever, happily amongst the beautiousness.

they are so beautiful i want to fill a bathtub with rhinestones and climb in. i want to glue them in swirls all over my body and then suspend myself from the ceiling. i want to line them up in perfect sparkly rows and snort them in ways that would make hollywood proud.

well, it was nice while it lasted

2007-02-22T13:00:00.000-08:00

i was accident free for a while there, wasn't i?

i mean, i can't even remember the last time i bitched about falling down the stairs or accidentally burning myself in remarkably geographical patterns. but then last night, things went awry. in which statement "things" means "ankle bones" and "awry" means "akimbo."

that's right. i broke my ankle. not boney protrusion broken, but i have a cast and crutches and all that. yay me! soon they will both be rhinestoned, but first i must find more vicodin.

what happened you say? well, i'm going to have to go with ninjas. zombie ninjas. zombie ninjas with laser guns.

thank yous to sachi for a well timed gift that met me at home post-emergency room, and to one point of my lovely faux lesbian triad, miss ariel for taking me to the ortho at the hairy butt crack of dawn this morning.

drugged up posting to follow, i'm sure!

i left my toothbrush in san francisco

2007-02-20T16:02:00.000-08:00

seriously, i did. and i left my spare one in massachusetts over the holidays, so pretty much the next thing i do should be to get to ye olde oral hygiene shoppe.

instead, i brought home a breadmaker, a george foreman grill, two pairs of clearance steve madden shoes ($20 a pair. that's a minor miracle), some really awesome books from abandoned planet book store, where they have an incredibly sweet and handsome store cat, and about 3475628374 extra pounds from all the eatin' and boozin'. it was glorious.

there's some video up over at jigg's place of me as a science girl on friday. i look all pasty white and bloated like risen dough. that's not even the science part! i do have on sexy pants though. also, i'm not talking much because i had possibly ingested a few martinis by that point (also not the science part) and so everything that came out of my mouth was highly inappropriate. by which i must mean more than usual.

now here's where i start to lie. some of the stuff below is true, some of it is false. only the parties involved will ever know.

i saw a minimum of 10 pairs of naked boobs.
i was faux-humped by a paris hilton look-a-like.
i undressed in a public venue, a living room, and a dining room.
i ate at betelnut, as i was powerful hungry.
a bug crawled in my shirt.
i saw the actual dick of a chick with one.
i taught a boy to twirl.
i took a pill without knowing what it was and spent an evening in lala land.
i kissed a girl named zoe. she was real pretty like.

i am the next governor

2007-02-13T13:35:00.000-08:00

last night i met kitten deville. this was better than any sex i'll have all year. i need to get the thrill of it out of my system so i can go on with the rest of my (all-downhill-from-here) life. le sigh. i am back to reality.

since i just got a raise/promotion, a office-wide email went out today to spread the good news. email alerts: like tiny electronic jehovahs, they relentlessly announce the coming of the good word. anyway, my office likes to include a picture of the person in question when making proclamations, and since the picture they took of me was fairly terrible, i supplied my own.

i think this will let people know i mean business when i tell them i need their production costs, and i need then right now, sarah conner. right now.

assorted phrases from the weekend

2007-02-12T14:18:00.000-08:00

“there are a lot of trannies here tonight. i mean, more than usual.”

“we’re all lesbians.”

“pedophilia is the new black.”

“oh, you mean qui-gon jinn.”

“if you make out with me, we could each make fifty bucks.”

“your friend just put his head on my boobs.”

“he looks totally gay, but were he actively gay, i can only assume his butt wouldn’t be as hairy. i did not buy his buttcrack.”

_______ is beautiful

2007-02-08T16:35:00.000-08:00

business matters: in addition to a miniature pony, i also desire a giant rabbit.

someone needs to contact this guy and begin trade negotiations on my behalf.

there is a dangerous intersection i drive through every day on my way to work. in the center of a lane division is a sign, (probably the speed limit and that’s why i can’t remember what it says), but earlier this week someone put up his/her own sign, and it fills me with hope and curious wonder.

dramatization

who put it there? and how? did you not see that this is a dangerous intersection? for whom was it intended? did the intended see?

i delight in it no matter.

now.

remember when i confessed to you how i adore the fatness? well, things are going according to plan. maybe a little too well actually, as leonard nimoy has been increasing himself at an alarming rate. he’s been with me since september, which means that it has taken a mere four months for his weight to go up a whopping 140%. one hundred and forty is a lot of percents. and as much as i love the soft pink belly, that is seriously appalling. i hope to present you with the culpatory photographic evidence in the morning.

here’s the problem. how do i keep him from eating all the goddamned food? if it were just him, i could monitor it better, but julius needs access to food too! except nimoy eats it all. nothing stops him! he even eats the dog’s food if it isn’t finished in a timely manner. he’s become corpulent, lounging about all day like an ancient greek, just eating as much and as often as he wishes and then waiting for me to get home and rub his chubby body till it rumbles with pleasure. i am a slave to his insatiable appetites for food and sweet sweet human lovin'. woe is me.

accidents happen

2007-02-05T16:38:00.000-08:00

so lots of things are happening, and i don’t just mean in my pants. oooooh, that’s right. i said that. seriously though, there’s nothing going on in my pants. unless you count my cute undies. they have sparkles. green sparkles!!!

first, i should tell you that i got a raise. that’s pretty much what enables all the recklessness below. that and me selling my ovaries on ebay. little kendras for everyone! wooooooooo!

i have developed an addiction to turkey bacon. it’s quite serious, and i’m a little worried for my safety. what will i do when i run out??? it could be anything.

the other day i went to buy spirit gum (for to apply my shiny new sequined pasties, which i made last week on my sick day) and i accidentally bought a wig. it kind of took me by surprise- one minute i was standing there in my regular hair, and the next i was handing over my creditcard. i think i was roofied. anyway, it’s totally sexy and i think i might start wearing it all the time. with my pasties. because they rule.

whilst we are discussing the pasties, you should know i have chosen a burlesque name and debut performance. here is where you come in: i need knitters. i need to knit a certain very important piece of my costume, which i of course can do, BUT… i need probably 20 of them. it’s a cheap, quick knit… i believe you’ll need two caron’s one pounds and size 15 24” circs. i will reimburse for yarn if it’s a concern… anyway, let me know if you’re interested. when i have a completed costume (which i will then be taking off) i will post pictures, and debut my persona here. you want to be around for that, knitting or no. do not mess with the burlesque broad. she will cut you. paper cut you!

someone help me.

anyway, besides the evolution-paced construction of my costume (we’re not even close to walking upright), and the continued dance classes i want to finish before i debut- you know, to insure the ass-shaking is executed properly- there’s also a little matter of completing my ginormous tattoo. i’m not going out there like a half finished coloring book. so part of my new year’s resolutions (Year of Me, wooooooo!) was to finish the damn thing. because burlesque is not as sexy when i am holding my hand over my side tightly, as if my routine is a duel wherein i have just been shot. go on. just go- it’s all over- they got me. and scene.

so i’ve been going pretty regularly for work on my ginormous tattoo, and it’s coming along rather nicely. sneak preview i went on saturday though, and jay thought maybe we should take a little break from it for a week. but i was already there. so what was i to do? jay is in the valley. the VALLEY. i was not just turning around and going home.

which is how i accidentally got a new tattoo. one minute i was standing there all innocent like, with only (counting) nine tattoos, and the next i had taken a giant leap towards tattooedladydom. i was probably roofied. at least it’s not of turkey bacon.

mayday! mayday!

2007-01-30T17:15:00.000-08:00

i am trying to think of ways to explain where i am of late.

now before you go running around telling people i've gone all nikki/jessica or (for the sally fields crowd, sybill), i do not have multiple personalities; i'm just leading two completely incompatible lives.

you know, much like the average psychopathic serial killer. or woman trapped in a man's body. or, i suppose, man trapped in a woman's body. that's not the case here, i'm just saying.

anyways, bear with me.

pain is sexy

2007-01-23T16:24:00.000-08:00

my walking privileges have been revoked. i am hobbled. i feel as though i have been beaten. trampled. maybe even died and resurrected. that would explain the stiffness, anyway.

according to Lux LaCroix, burlesque dancer/instructor and all-around lovely lady, when performing, we are taking the long and winding road to boobville. were we to cross the delicate line between class, a la sally rand, and crass, a la jenna jameson, we would be zooming down the autobahn.

who knew the scenic route would be so painful? floor work is not your friend, people. my knees and the tops of my feet are all bruisey and hurty and generally displeased. they are lodging a formal complaint. my core muscles are achey and hot. i'm sure working on my tattoo the day before didn't help, but the crawling across the floor and the popping up and down and squats and splits and oh god make it stop. i’m having flashbacks. ptsd! my persona might have to be obsessive compulsive, just to give me reason to stay off the damn floor. she will perform from inside a giant clear plastic bubble. hamster von teese.

sexy.

float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

2007-01-18T17:43:00.000-08:00

in other words, i am the greatest-- for behold what i have created!

click for big

closeup! wooo wooo!

my crowning glory, as i like to call it, was created based on the pomatomus sock pattern. except i made it a glove. and i made it inside out. intentionally, as the purl side was prettier, but then i had to reverse half the pattern in my head, for to make the purl side with the stockinette palm. it was all very mathy and knitty and the teensy tiny needles (zeros!) gave me a blister, so i'm quite glad it's over.

tomorrow morning is traffic court. sacrifice some chickens for me, would you?

also, following in the formidible footsteps of jiggs casey and subsequently the still-hibernating monkey, and i have joined consumating. you can view my profile in progress here. the reason my main picture is that moose is because the theme this week is "favorite tshirt." that one's mine. i traded my dirty wifebeater to a stranger in a bar for it.

i also joined another "dating" site, but the whole thing is very stressful and makes me feel pressure in my chest and sort of like i need to barph (tm) and so i think i might delete the whole thing.

and i need to take some better pictures of myself. unless me as a granny is a winner.... anyone?

this post sucks.

i am a dancing fool

2007-01-16T17:36:00.000-08:00

burlesque class was excellent. i am a better dancer than i have been giving myself credit for. the only bad thing about it is when i stopped shaking my ass intentionally, there was some noticeable residual shake. no one likes residual shake. maybe i should “exercise” or something. something like not eat so many cookies.

i plan to be the geeky burlesque girl, something like a sexy librarian if you will. because my plans are so high-falutin’, i may require help constructing/aquiring a collection of the necessary music and costumes, including this one, a variation on this one, and of course something that would adequately serve these purposes.

i have not yet thought of a good stage name, but i’m partial to pepper something. do not ask why- just know that i am an intergalactic phenomenon.

now i must go have more delightful pms. pms rules me. i am its slave.

friday leftovers

2007-01-12T16:34:00.000-08:00

i thought i had traffic court this morning for my bogus ticket, but i was wrong. it's next week. now i have another seven days to freak out about potentially having to pay a $350 ticket. hooray!

then on the way to work i discovered a certain somebody who shall remain nameless (but who FAILED in trying to fix my electronic boyfriend) had been disrespectful of my cds when he last borrowed my car and i was so filled with anger i nearly popped. instead, i had a little panic attack and realized i need to move immediately.

now i'm compiling a list of things i will need when i move, because i am poor and also because i'd rather spend my money on fun things, like strippers and blow.

so far my list is incredibly interesting things like:

pots/pans
plates/bowls
silverware
microwave
bed/sheets (seriously, i don't have a fucking bed.)
tv/dvd player

and so on. it looks like my first night in the new place (and yes, i realize this is two months away) will be me sleeping on my pile of fabric and yarn and then eating cereal from a muffin tin or a bundt pan. but i'm hoping to accumulate all those things so i can start a new list of things i want just because, like an adjustable dress form, and a spinning wheel, and a pregnant albino pygmy unicorn.

this weekend i'm taking my first burlesque class, which should prove very exciting. also, i will be digging for buried treasure, with which i will pay my ticket (maybe) and buy a giant bed for to sleep in all by my lonesome.

except with cats. and tiny baby unicorns.

who will have little safety bumpers, so they don't puncture my delicate flesh in the night.

the surreal life

2007-01-10T13:21:00.000-08:00

since i'm all single and what not, i have enlisted help in preparing myself to reenter the dating world. this endeavor is less than appealing to me, as most people are stupid and have subpar personal hygiene. being the marvelous chap that he is, anonymous coworker has compiled a handy list of questions to help me weed out the failures and find my perfect mate, my coffeemate(?), my eierlegende wollmilchsau.

i hope clive owen can answer these properly.

since i haven't met or conjured or electronically created my milk-giving egg-laying wool pig (yet), i have been taking things into my own hands. literally. until disaster! catastrophe! and oh the horror! my tiny fingertip vibrator broke and i spent about ten minutes trying different batteries, repeatedly switching the positive/negative ends and ignoring the visibly broken part, clearly illustrating my vast knowledge of tekmology.

and then the most surreal few moments of my life... wherein my incredibly estranged exboyfriend calmed me, turned on the overhead light, and began stripping the wires for to solder them back together.

somebody find me that pig before i go completely crazy.

long post off the port bow

2007-01-08T18:07:00.000-08:00

so i went “home” for the holidays, and right off the bat i was taken by surprise: massachusetts is still there, even after two years without me. i don’t know how it manages. i mean, i knew people still lived there- everything i know i learned from the internets- but i was under the impression that civilization had just crumbled in my absence and everyone was all, “multipass!” as they sped around the thunderdome.

on the plane, i sat and quietly knitted beside a very handsome man, who remained that way until he farted and then breathed a miasma of sleepy mouth air and probably airborne disease on me. i nearly died. i didn’t try to knit on the way back, because logan as a whole is elderly-british-catholic-school-marm-type uptight and i figured if i have to check a container of fluff, i should probably just put the needles away. thus flying was boring and hard. i nearly died.

upon my arrival, i drove to my parent’s house in a rental car that was so bright in color it was viewable from space. i feared for my life, as surely there were government officials monitoring my movement. they must know where the hotness is at all times- it’s a matter of national security! just imagine the consequences if i were to fall into the wrong hands! red alert! red alert! awooooooga!

that night, the mishpacha (that’s jewish for family, in case you goyim are too lazy to google it) went to dinner, where i casually (and dinner-appropriately) mentioned that i fully expected to bring the meal back to California (see: my long and storied past involvements with slothful and indolent faeries). then the faeries taught me a lesson. they taught it to me painfully, and they taught it to me every damn day. i nearly died.

on saturday i saw my beeb, and learned there is to be a beeblet! a beebie! a tiny alien lodged in her belly that hates swiss cheese! it’s all very exciting, except that at the rate i see her, she will have a beebager covered in acne at our next rendezvous. either way, this is fabulous news, and maybe if she calls me when she goes into labor, i can hop a red eye and land just in time to trap the little beebidoux. i’m searching ebay for a pattern for a catcher’s mitt. i’m thinking pre-treated ultra suede..no stains! spills just bead right off!

christmas eve there was chinese food and hanging out with possibly my most favoritest person on the whole earth (he needs a blog name), and there was singing in the car and nostalgia and a great sense of relief that we are finally and celebratorially (is this a word? yes. why? Year of Me, bitches.) friends again. this was possibly the best present i received, though i did receive some doozies, including gift cards, and a vintage book, and jammies and a crazy fur stole thingie that’s simultaneously so awesome and yet so fucking scary that i worship it out of equal parts love and irrational terror at its deadness.

xmas was for food and more time with my family/friends. post food, i dug through the attic and donated a bunch of my old crap to goodwill. then i bought some new crap from the goodwill. it’s the circle of life.

i spent some quality time with my friend The Reverend Ray, who is planning to go teach english to scandanavians,. we ate at the restaurant i used to work in, and here is the cell picture he took of me, with my craptacular phone, breaking the law (breaking the law! breaking the law!) by crossing the velvet rope, and sitting on a throne of lies.

then the faeries did their death magic on me, and i took ray home.

sprinkled through the week (mostly post stomach coup) i did some knitting- a dog sweater commissioned by my coworker for her yorkie.

aside: when it was complete, it seemed a little small, so i found myself a model, who though slightly larger than the intended recipient, casually posed for both side and front views.

my last day in MA was spent with my restaurant peeps, including BigBrother, who is pretty much the only person i actually pick up the phone for. that makes him royalty. i got a little drunk (meaning, drunk, but didn’t throw up) and i had what was by far the culinary highlight of my trip:

new england roast beast sammiches.
i cried a little, they were so good.
one could almost say i nearly died.

but only a little.

reason #457 why i need serious therapy

2007-01-04T12:49:00.000-08:00

i spent much of my car ride home last night rationalizing my opinion that while neither is really my cup of tea, bo bice is exponentially superior to chris daughtry.

except bo bice needs a damn haircut, that hippie.

(real post coming soon.)

ME!

2007-01-02T16:55:00.000-08:00

there is much for me to share in regards to my trip back east. the sole disappointment of my adventure was that it provided no time for me to visit my luminous spinnerina, nor my intoxicating tits mcgee. it did however, afford ample time for me to “self-reflect,” which is to say “wallow in the many disappointments of 2006” and also maybe “curse the heavens above” but that’s only because they made me so damn beautiful.

2006 was a hard year for me. the year started with a bang and a neck brace, then slipped seamlessly into sexual harassment, financial insecurities, unemployment, sickness, and of course, a wounded heart. there were some incredibly and gloriously bright spots in '06 though. and of course i’m still poor in ’07, but i’m trying not to let it get the best of me.

in the spirit of not letting it get the best of me, i welcome you all to 2007: The Year of Me. you’re probably thinking that this seems odd and vaguely selfish, and you are right, but this is The Year of Me and you are my minions and so you will celebrate and revel and defer to me on this, as in all relevant matters.

The Year of Me is a long time coming. if you know me well, or maybe even if you don’t, you know that i have a slight difficulty saying no, and not just to cookies. you know that in spite of how i appear superficially (some people have insinuated that sometimes maybe i come off a little mean), i am not a fighter. i am honest— very honest, and this is where the “mean” comes in— when honesty is the best policy, but that isn’t always the case. sometimes things have to get done, and i happen to be non-confrontational and efficient, and so it’s just easier to do them myself than to fight about it. also, sometimes i actually don’t mind. but.

2007 will not be easy. this year, if i want to say no, i will say no. i might even shout it, and do a little crane kick. this year, when people fuck up my food at the farmer’s market, i will make them fix it even if it takes a fourth time. because i paid for it, and i am hungry, and dammit, your shitty attitude will not keep me from eating shwarma in The Year of Me!

The Year of Me will also involve me actually doing activities i enjoy, instead of just thinking about them. i would like to take a dance class or three. maybe tap, because i like noise and also my feathered pillbox hat would be darling. or maybe bellydance, or a burlesque class, so i can wear pasties and sequins and also sequined pasties. you know, more than i already do.

i’m also going to continue to knit. and sew. and maybe show a little more here of what I do, so that when the time comes (and lo! it is coming) you can help me launch my line of bags and fun handcrafted whoosiewhatsies and snorfblatts. collect them all!

the most important “resolution” for this Year of Me is this: no sex in ’07. how is this different from ’06 you ask? the reason. in ’06 i had some sex, and then i had less, and soon after that i had none— because i fell out of love. in ’07 there will be no sex because i am in love once again; i love how much more of myself i have become of late, and i want to see how much more i can be. i like my life. i love my friends. i don’t need any distractions, and since i have a history of falling into relationships and staying in them well past their expiration date, this year, the only hand in my pants will be my own. and that’s ok.

so.

2007 will be sex free, but chock full of knitting. and dating in LA stories. and crane kicks when those losers try to kiss me. i’m going to shake my ass a little, and glue sequins all over myself for fun. rhinestones, too. and maybe some brightly colored feathers. because in order to truly appreciate myself, the outside is going to have to match the inside completely.

i am here!

2006-12-29T20:28:00.000-08:00

my trip was delightful, with details to follow. i got back to california safely, although i seem to have picked up a little viral stowaway on the plane somewhere.

good thing i'm puking alot, so he should be gone soonish.

talk to you then, or maybe sooner if i can find a bucket.

auf wiedersehen

2006-12-21T16:30:00.000-08:00

i googled that for the spelling as "auvwedersen." google is so smart.

here is something that has been bothering me all week: there is an abandoned shopping cart full of cans and other assorted tchotchkes on the side of the road. i drive by it every morning on my way to work and am very concerned about its owner's whereabouts. no one just leaves a cart like that. it's prime bum merchandise! also, the road is a busy one, with no sidewalks. just endless wetlands and tall reeds. my imagination is running wild. this is like how everytime i pass a plastic bag on the side of the road or freeway i wonder if maybe there are puppies inside.

tomorrow morning i must be at the airport by 5:30 am. yes, 5:30 AM. i am going to massachusetts for my first visit in nearly two years! i'm pretty sure i'll get hopelessly lost at some point, and i might wither into a raisin-like version of my self without the constant affirming love of my kitties, and my online presence will be intermittent for the next week, but please know that i continue to hold you all in my heart and mind, and also watch you on my tiny spycam.

jiggs casey, please stop that. it's ruining my dinner.

the longest weekend makes for the crappiest post

2006-12-18T14:41:00.000-08:00

i am tired. very very tired. i did a whole weekend by saturday afternoon, and then did another. because i am so exhausted and mildy depressed (you will soon learn why), i will give you the run down of my weekend in nugget form. because everything is better when it’s processed within an inch of its life, then fried, and also dipped in sweet n’ sour sauce. nuggets: they’re what’s for dinner.

friday night was my holiday party. i wore a black satin top and the sequined pants. there was open bar, and amazing foods (tiny bbq short ribs. mojito shrimp! mmmmm), and girls in shiny bikinis and feather headdresses that shaked their booties for us. next year, i’m weaing that.

as is, many many people have pictures of my shiny bottom, (i hope to procure you some) and also pictures of me chatting up the waiter. will (that’s his name) looked like this (bald version) and i drowned my sorrows in his dreamy eyes (and about seven martinis brought to me by he of the dreamy eyes) because as i sort of suspected, my crush is Gay. ASIDE: the strange part is that i’m relieved. i really like his company, and i’m not interested in really liking someone right now. i’m not ready coach! so conveniently, i now have a new friend to drag around. and make no mistake, he will be my friend. i’ve already decided and drawn up a schedule and everything. i planned out our whole day. first, we'll make snow angels for two hours, and then we'll go ice skating and then we'll eat a whole roll of tollhouse cookie dough as fast as we can, and then, to finish, we'll snuggle.

anyway, the conversation was as follows:

drunken me: my crush is the Gay. so i have decided to transfer all of my affections to you.
waiter will: you might run into the same problem.
drunken me: yeah, i figured. but it’s only one night. you can pretend.

the next day i woke up all dizzy and surprised to be in my own bed. laurieann and i had some breakfast and then we went to

it was fabulous. we saw over a hundred vendors, including many whose theme seemed to be “conjoined items” and one who sold vagina pillow cases. some will be added to my sidebar over the next weekish (maybe, depending on work) and i might do a more detailed bazaar bizaare post in order to give appropriate props, but here are some awesome pictures from our adventure:

this is a cake. for eating. if it doesn’t burn you alive with its mind first.

my new desk ornament. her name is heathers.

my new painting, "applecorn", part of a series ( acorn, popcorn, cornbeef!) by the AMAZINGLY clever steph lehman (cornbeef, people. cornbeef! i love her.), who i think i scared a little with all my crazy talk, and possibly now have scared more by declaring my love on the internets. she had these gloves that one hand had embroided dog poo and the other had an embroidered fly. ha! i love strange crafts, and this place was full of them.

also at bazaar bizaare was the swap-o-rama rama, where i donated a smallish bag of clothing, and left with a hefty bag full of new clothing and fabrics. i’m like an ant- i carry several times my body weight.

and still! there’s more! this post is long and unwieldy like a whale penis.

saturday evening i took amtrak to san diego for sarah smile's birthday, where we ate good foods and i embarrassed myself in the fancy restaurant by assuming everyone knew as much about creepy fetishes as i do. i met luca brasi (so cute), got some stellar sarah-crafted jammies, and then promptly passed out on the couch. from exhaustion, not crack cocaine or anything like that.

in the morning sarah’s shower abused my delicate nipples with its super kungfu water pressure and i cried until it gave me flowers and promised never to do it again. then sarah and i went to joann’s fabrics, where i pulled so much fabric out that the lady came over and accosted me because she thought i was just making a mess. but no, i really bought it all. thank goodness for 50% off sales. right now my truck is full of fabric and styrofoam heads. don’t ask.

on the train back to LA, a college boy flirted with me. though he was too young, he was reading t.h. white so i let him flirt away. it made me feel good because he wasn’t gay.

the cherry on the top of my weekend was a little holiday gathering of my friends, where I disbursed my holiday goodness and we ate chicken and hummus and fig newtons. it was delightful, and if not for having to unpack and shower and work and get my whole damn life in order so i can go on vacation worry-free at the end of the week, i might have stayed forever.

if you made it this far, i applaud you, and reward you with this:

saturday marked the very first of many future juliusaversaries, and in honor of his glorious orangeness, and my undying and somewhat creepy love for him, i give you jooooooooolius! the most esteemed rabbi julius boon, phd.

won't you be my neighbor?

2006-12-14T14:39:00.000-08:00

last night was supposed to be perfect. exBoy had his holiday party after work, and thus the apartment was gloriously empty. mine! all mine! my excitement was so great, i drew up an agenda:

i left work early to insure best use of my time, and it was going quite well for a while. i did all my chores and ate my delicious burrito and pranced about and then practiced my acceptance speech for the professional prancer awards. i may have done some naked mirror dancing (i may not) and it may have been highly interpretive of my abuse of the cable box’s “on demand karaoke" features.

then i decided to color my hair, so it would be fresh and bright for the holidays.

this is where things went wrong. nakedly wrong.

i applied the hairdye as i usually do, which is to say i shmooshed it all over my head with much vim and vigor. i even do my eyebrows, because nobody likes a girl with non-matchy eyebrows. since i am so thorough, sometimes i end up with dye in my ears or on my chin or whatever but i just scrub at it a bit with dye remover and all is well.

just a bit later, safely in the shower and in the throes of my intensive scrubbing process, the smoke alarm went off for no reason. and then the dog started whining, his poor doggie ears. and then the cats- the siamese leonard nimoy cat especially- started running back and forth, meowing loudly and with impressive dramatic delivery.

the combination of sounds was deafening.

i jumped from the shower and tried to pull the detector from the wall but it was just beyond my grasp. moments seemed like incredibly painful hours as i grabbed the nearest thing to boost myself and fumbled with the battery. i finally got the damn thing out and it fell to the floor… and yet the detector kept beeping. i pressed buttons. still beeping. i pulled wires. still beeping. i screamed, “shut up you filthy gutterwhore!” and still! it was beeping!

i looked around desperately but there was no one to help. pickles was hiding and the cats continued their cross-apartment operatic tour. i stood there listening to it all and I panicked.

i grabbed a towel and ran for the door.

i knocked at the building manager’s door but no one was home, so i went to the only apartment with a light on: the middle-aged dorky guy with the roommate i’ve never seen and the single strand of red christmas lights above the door. really, what’s the point there? it looks more like the door to a brothel than a joyous celebration of the season. but beggars can’t be choosers, and cold, wet, undressed beggars especially.

i stood there nervously waiting for him to answer, wondering what he might say (it puts the lotion on its skin? what’s your favorite scary movie?) and holding my towel closed and trying not to drip half-rinsed hair water on anything, and just as the door opened the beeping stopped.

so i casually explained the situation and apologized for bothering him since the problem seemed to have resolved itself, and he looked at me and looked at me some more and so i adjusted the towel just a bit for coverage and he said, “do you want me to look it up on the internet? because you should probably go back inside before you catch a chill.”

then i blushed a little (nakedly) and thanked him (nakedly) and went home to finish my shower, after which i did eat mangos (nakedly) and knit (nakedly) and dwell in my neighbor’s mind nakedly forever.

wonder of wonders!

2006-12-12T13:38:00.000-08:00

miracle of miracles! broke up with Boy (thank god) and then-
wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, fit into my jeans again!

that’s right, children. we are experiencing our second christmas miracle of the season. one more, and i'm ready for canonization. first was the enchanted silver shoes that-- despite being a measly size nine-- fit comfortably on my oversized hagrid feet. BUT! even more impressive than that… the second miracle: today i have been restored to my full luster. i am polished and sparkling like new, breathtaking and resplendent in my numinous glory, for i am wearing the Hot Ass Jeans.

these jeans are astonishing. they give me the illusion of a fine booty where, truthfully speaking, there is but a mediocre one. i paid a whole lot of money for those jeans based solely on their tremendous repertoire of ass magic. sadly, over the last year (and in direct correlation with the snowball-like decline of my relationship), i grew somewhat larger and so the jeans were relegated to the depths of my diy-assembly particleboard armoire, never to be seen again.

UNTIL… this very day, as i dressed for work and mused aloud how nice it would be to have jeans of such caliber once again, and then removed them lovingly from their place of rest at the bottom of the pants pile, and was heartened by the feel of their soft denim in my hands and so timidly slipped one leg on just to see… then LO! by your powers combined, (earth! fire! wind! water! heart!!!!!!) i am captain planet!

you know, if captain planet were totally cute and single and up for parading his sweet behind all about town. and it’s ok if he is. i don’t judge.

i'm eating oatmeal

2006-12-08T15:32:00.000-08:00

it's my lunch, and it's delicious.

now as if i weren't paranoid already, about say, how much time leonard nimoy spends in the window* (among other things), now there's this.

*white cats with pink skin are prone to skin cancers (particularly in the nose and ears). he is indoors only, so his risk is less, but i'm still tempted to tint all of my windows for his saftey, as it would break my heart if his soft pink belly were harmed in any way. i just reread that and i think we can all agree that i need to seek professional help pretty much immediately.

and a meme, a la this fish and subsequently, brookelina:

things i have learned from my relationships with men.

well, this is harder than it seems. my instincts are to include things like, "someone who is a jerk to others will eventually be a jerk to you as well," or, "when he urges me to stand up for myself and assumes i will only do so in situations that don't involve him, i should kick him hard and run."

of course there have been a few positive things, like reverse cowgirl, but mostly i can sum it up in one statement:

1. i am glad i didn't marry any of them.

the end.

engage!*

2006-12-06T12:13:00.000-08:00

this morning i put on my lucky socks and they had a hole in them. then i got to work and my favorite fish in our tank (the puffer) was dead. had these two things occurred in anyone else’s life, we could safely assume they were unrelated, but since this is me, i feel i must say sorry, fishie. my stupid socks killed you.

in other news, holiday goodness has commenced!

all gifts have been shipped, unless they are being handed off (and you know who you are.) some were sent via fedex, and those should arrive within 4-7 days. some were sent airmail to canadia, and those should also arrive in 4-7 days. the majority were sent priority mail, and so those should be in your paws by monday at the latest. a select few are being delivered via pony express, and one is actually a portkey. like i’ve said, i’m very crafty.

thank you so so so so much to those of you who have donated to the very official holiday goodness disbursement fund. your kindness knows no bounds, and you should know that i love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow. you should also know i’m listening to k-earth 101. those of you who have not yet donated can still earn my undying affections via the button in the post here.

but you should by no means feel guilty if you are not able to donate, because, hello? i'm poor, so if anyone understands, it's me.

and if you weren’t on the list this year, pay closer attention when i ask who wants goodness next year. because next year, instead of cvs giftcards, i’m doing coupons for little debbie cakes or maybe pickles. i’m not sure yet. maybe both.

since i cannot be there in person to witness your joy, i have inserted tiny spy cams into each gift. the feeds go directly to my computer. people sometimes lie and say they like things, but really don't. so i want to see your cute little faces. the only reason i'm warning you is because while i want to see your most visceral reaction, i do not want to see your naked parts. so WARNING: do not open sans pants.

please let me know when your goodness arrives, so i can watch the momentous event. also, so i do not die of worry, and you know the worrying has already begun.

*i am a dork.

i feel crappy about this

2006-12-01T16:24:00.000-08:00

i really feel like a shithead for it, but i have created this handy little button so that those who are interested can donate to

in order to defray some shipping costs. i regret having to do it, because how lame is this? but i just discovered i owe the doctor $300 for my procedure (obviously actually having the procedure wasn't pleasurable enough.) anyway, if you feel like it, go ahead. i think up to 4 dollars is a perfectly delightful donation. i don't know why there are all the spaces down there before the button, but i'm too busy to investigate it further. now if you'll excuse me, i have to go sell some organs on ebay.

wherein i am a paper doll

2006-11-30T12:54:00.000-08:00

have you ever seen that show “how do i look?” it’s hosted by blossom's step mom (public service announcement: do not name your child finola) and is pretty much boring, but i like the part where they make the poor ~~victim~~ makeover candidate dance around in outfits allegedly chosen by friends, but that were (quite obviously) actually chosen by a blind carnie in some sort of zombie-hobo themed dart game.

usually i like the shoes. zombie hobos are notorious for their taste in shoes.

my point is: this post is where i dance around in front of my camera so that you can see the bare-bones of my potential holiday ensembles. i say bare-bones because there are purses not pictured (well, not made yet actually) and of course you should know that my hair and makeup will be much more involved, probably ending up something like this:

but you know, with some flowers or feathers or something.
and probably bigger.

the only reason i didn’t do my hair up for your benefit is that i wanted to you to take a moment in appreciation of this:

note the intense look of surprise (or whatever it is
that happens when you use self timers.)
is the pineapple really back?
where has is been?
did it find what it was looking for?

and now, our feature presentation.

option one: sequined pants

pros: hello, sequins!?!?!?! also, comfortable shoes.
shirt could end up black for a slimming
monochromatic effect.
this outfit requires a fascinator.

cons: is this more new year’s eve?
if so, i need to make plans immediately
because these pants demand attention
and copious amounts of liquor.
also, kissing.

option two: black velvet

pros: i look hot and thin.
in other news, this dress is soft and i want to pet myself.

cons: is this festive enough, or should it be
reserved for a potential date (see above)?

option three: goldfinger

pros: sparklie! very retro.
matching shoes and hair doodad.

cons: shoes aren’t the most comfy.
also, not sure i want to be remembered as
the girl in the naked dress.

option four: minty fresh

pros: sparklie! green!
matching shoes and hair doodad.
shoes are christmas miracle!*

*they’re a size nine. nine! and they still fit over my giant snowshoe feets!

cons: will i be warm and itchy in a wool & metallic dress?
dress needs to be altered (which I can do, so it’s not really a con).

option five: you wish

pros: coat can be trusted to stay on.

cons: i can not.

let the voting begin!

note: the coat is not actually an option. now take your hand out of your pants.

i'm serious, people

2006-11-28T12:50:00.000-08:00

i don't know that you understand the severity of the situation. my holidaygoodness list go so unwieldy that i had to make it into a four-tabbed excel worksheet, for my own sanity.

tab one is your names and addresses, sorted alphabetically in groups of how i know you. (family, local friends, bloggers.)

tab two is your preferences for color and the like. (reminder: this may or may not have influenced what gift you receive. for instance: if you like blue, too bad. cvs gift cards are red, and only red.)

tab three is your names and corresponding gifts, sorted by type and complexity of gift, as well as supplies needed. completed gift cells have been greyed out.

tab four is your names and corresponding gifts sorted by delivery method, whether it be shipping, regular mail, packing for my trip to MA, or local.

what's that??? why yes, yes i am insane.

for those of you looking to reciprocate, i do have an amazon wishlist, as well as strong desires for pretty clothing from some places in my sidebar. that said, i would also be incredibly thankful for giftcards to target or ikea, considering i will be getting my own place soon (please! soon! hurry! ) and will need to fill it with assorted useful and non-useful crap for my cats to knock over while i'm sleeping.

coming soon: my office has a holiday party and i cannot decide what to wear.

nuggets

2006-11-27T13:39:00.000-08:00

i was going to call this post tidbits, but i think nuggets is more fun. (see nugget:chicken :: this post:real blogging.)

now open your booklets and begin.

i want to go to night one of this so badly. there are some good bands on night two, and some extra shitty bands (fall out boy) for the first show, but i think overall night one suits my tastes more. dave grohl is my secret lover (LOV-ah) you know, and i was unable to attend the afoostic show a few months back. this is my chance at redemption. and yes, i like my chemical romance. now that it's out in the open, i pretty much have to go get an afterschool job at hot topic. can i borrow your black wristlets to cover my emo-ness, because if anyone sees me this way i will positively die.

anyway, i want to go so badly that i would go with anyone, and i mean ANYONE, who offered me a ticket. i would go with hitler. i would go with anne coulter. i would go with kevin federline. of course, he'd be beaten to death at the door, so that might be my best bet. ticket sales information will be released thursday, and here's to hoping i can (a) afford a ticket, and (b) actually buy one before they sell out to scalpers.

clever transitional sentence!

there is a hierarchy of pharmacy stores. it goes like this, from best to festering cesspools of disease and questionable product placement:

cvs
duane reade
sav-on
walgreens
rite aid

i apologize if i missed a local favorite- those are the biggies i am familiar with. rite aid is the grossest. it is always dirty and requires security guards. cvs is the best one, with its brightly lit aisles and nice smells and carpet. carpet!!! do you even know how often you have to clean carpet in a high traffic store? in los angeles????

the reason i bring this up is that cvs recently arrived in LA, and i am happier than i have any reasonable right to be. it's like a little piece of home, all shiny and clean, and it pleases me so much that i'm tempted to roll around in the makeup and skincare aisle moaning with joy. atleast until a month from now, when it becomes irreversibly sullied by the fetid patrons of the city. sigh.

further transition in festive pun!

i was pretty much a holidaygoodness machine this weekend, and finished nearly everything. right now the holdouts are fairly unsurprising, and two of the three should be done by week's end.

that said, i filled out all your cards and bullshit, and i pretty much sucked at that. the saddest part is that i just accept it. i made like 80 gifts this year, and chose things especially for youse guys, so feel lucky i even put your silly names on the damn things. i wrote some nonsense (feel even luckier if yours is in english!) and by the end of the 30th card my penmanship was like a third grade boy's. also, i've cleaned the gifts as best i could, but any stray julius/nimoy hairs should be considered an additional (and priceless) gift for you to enjoy. AND YOU WILL ENJOY.

now i just have to figure out the cheapest possible way to ship this crap off, and we'll all be happy. atleast until you figure out that your gifts are all $5 cvs giftcards wrapped in catfur and my acoustic desperation.

happy thanksgiving!

2006-11-23T08:44:00.000-08:00

with busy busy love,

miss kendra
rabbi julius boon, phd
leonard nimoy

for the love of god, coddle me

2006-11-21T14:29:00.000-08:00

my lungs are thick. i simply must find a fainting couch or confine myself to bed immediately.

now, a story.

next door to a lovely local yarn store that i enjoy visiting, there is a questionable looking building, sans windows, and with but one lonely sign hinting at what lies within its darkened doors. the building and its sign are pure white, and in a most uninteresting serif font the sign reads simply, "roman holiday." mostly i ignored this place. until...

one day last week, my coworker asked me to accompany her to the yarn store and help pick out supplies for her own goodness endeavors. we got some burritos (i love burritos. i could eat like ten right now) and headed off to fondle the glorious yarns. as we approached the building, i made sure to point out the odd roman holiday place and suggest possible explanations for its ominousness. ominousity? whatever.

then i suggested we go in. much to my surprise, she agreed, and in we went. once safely past the heavy (and again windowless) door, at a glass-encased counter much like one would find in a liquor store in say, south central, we found a small man who eyed us suspiciously and then listed roman holiday's services. then the inner door opened and i couldn't help but glance inside.

i thanked the man for his information, and pulled my friend out the door and into the yarn store, where i tried desperately to make the memories go away. i was placated with some lovely julius colored malabrigo, which is now a lovely julius colored purse. the comfort only lasted so long though, as the memories swiftly returned.

because where you're from, roman holiday might be a classic audry hepburn movie, but where i live, it's a gay bath and health spa (as described by the man behind the glass) where i can see someone's naked grandpa on my friday afternoon lunch break.

i have an icicle in my pants

2006-11-17T13:51:00.000-08:00

also, a cough.

*cough cough*

i'm sick. don't those germs know i am VERY BUSY??? there is holidaygoodness to be made! and i, unlike some people, do not have a whole sweatshop to assist me. there are labor laws you know.

also, a meme, via nick at the sac.

5 Things You Don't Know About Me That Should Probably Remain That Way.

"Sure, it's a long name, but it's worth every penny."

1) i like to eat refried beans all by themselves, and animal crackers dipped in diet coke. also, cereal with apple juice. and sometimes, just ketchup. for no reason.

2) i have trichotillomania, but this is probably all i will ever say about that. *edited* i don't pull out my head hairs or my eyelashes or anything. i'm just very very thorough with my tweezers. very.

3) i have only been on two real dates in my life, and they were both awful.

4) when i was sixteen i stole a disposable plastic speculum from the doctor. for what, i do not know. it was there, i was there. i was young and curious and a semi-professional thief. so i took it.

5) i am considering purchasing an epi-pen and a slice of pizza.

send delicious soup and vegan cookies.

the war of the roses UPDATED

2006-11-13T18:37:00.000-08:00

*i corrected the errors, and also, i just thought you all should know i've decided to start responding to comments again. that is all.*

this past weekend, at Chez i'm-gonna-stab-you-in-the-eye-if-you-don't-stop-
talking-oh-say,-right--this-fucking-minute, there were a few moments where i thought my most recent post might be my last, because i'm pretty sure they don't let you blog from deathrow, although i could be wrong because this is california.

then i got to thinking about how deathrow might not be that bad, because shirley bellinger got to knit right up until they snapped her little neck. and lord knows that's a lifestyle i could get behind.

anyway, friday night i went to the drinking place (TheKennedy was in attendance) and i escaped after only one drink. here's the tradeoff- the work friend with whom i was talking, that sly minx, hugged him on his way out, creating tear in the space time continuum allowing for my immediate transport to that delightfully awkward place where it only becomes more obvious that i want to sniff him if i don't hug him like she did. minx.

and i had my giant bag, and you can't just put down a giant bag in a bar, so i hugged him from a strange angle that forced his arm to graze my boobs (unintentional!) and then drove home in a panic, trying desperately to smell myself as if i were a stranger. what do i smell like at 8pm on a friday?

the people in traffic next to me must have thought i was having a seizure as i tried to watch the road from the inside of my own armpit. not surprisingly, i still smell like cookies... and silent suffering. which, incidentally, smells like cookies. we've come full circle, and all is well.

upon my arrival at home, exBoy was out. when i traveled back in internet time (via the underused ALT+H command), i discovered his recent re-sign-uptitude (shut it) to matchdotcom. this was something i was expecting, despite his lingering advances, but i wasn't excited to see that his profile is, in summary, looking for (and quite specifically) exactly what i am not. or that his profile picture is way unflattering. because that's a reflection on me too, you know! i spent the last three years with you, buddy! pull it together!

and gradually suddenly i realized i find it rather embarrassing that i allowed this to go on as long as it did. who is this person? and more frighteningly, who was i? how could i be even remotely shocked to see his attempts at playing both sides after all this time?

i suppose this new information, coupled with the giddiness surrounding the evening's earlier bodily contact did little to aid in my receptiveness to exBoy's encroaching on my space, but when he got back, the tiny orchestra in my head (formal attire required!) started in with a little flight of the valkyries and the application of red paint to the nipples (i said it was formal, don't act all surprised) and i so knew.

it was on.

he promptly started with the constant needling, and i got worked up, as i tend to do, because i can't seem to understand how one person could be so simultaneously arrogant, conniving, manipulative and absolutely fucking retarded (no offense). it's like magic- he's david blaine, but even more pointless. how is that even possible???? his final trick is disappearing all the good memories, one by one.

either way, i made myself feel better. he went out for a ride, and i taped over all his amateur porn vidoes with footage of my cats doing cat things, like eating, and chewing his speaker wires, and licking their own buttholes.

brothers gotta hug!

exclamation point!

2006-11-10T16:17:00.000-08:00

why is it that i live in a hugenormous city that has everything you could possibly ever conceive of needing and many things no one will ever need, and yet i have to go drive 35 minutes out of my way to buy $6 worth of bias tape? this is where i debut (though it's really a minor example of) miss kendra luck®. as in:

miss kendra luck: it's like ebola, only worse.

i also have to go out drinking tonight. why does this happen to me? i have no money to drink with! what's the point???? AND i have holiday goodness to finish! and yet i am obligated to go. last time i went to this bar with these people, i ended up sleeping half in my bathroom and half in the hallway. for safety purposes, you know.

in other news, i have developed a crush. this is my first crush in many (3) years, and i am very nervous about the whole thing. what do i do? am allowed to speak of it here? does he get an award for being first? will it have sparkles? (yes.) i don't know the rules for this!

he is TheKennedy, and he is quite something or other. i do not know what exactly, but i assure you, it is something good. i'm enjoying this crush primarily because it just gives me something be silly about, and it is most likely harmless and fleeting. but until it flees, i get to look at him from the corner of my eye when i walk to the bathroom, and i get to instant message my friends about how he is lingering in my area and they better distract me because i am using all of my superpowers just to keep from leaning my head on him and maybe sniffing his neck just a little.

sniff sniff.

it's so fifth grade, i love it.

he just walked by.

do you think he knows? he totally knows. how could he not know? this is what he saw when he walked by:

me, in progressive shades of red.
i'm pretty sure i remained clothed though.
pretty sure.

getting down to the good stuff

2006-11-08T16:44:00.000-08:00

i'm knee deep in holiday goodness, and i have come to the conclusion that while some of you did in fact send me valuable information pertaining to your color preferences etcetera, i have limited supplies, and so will be making you things that may have nothing to do with that information, but that i think are nice, or maybe crap, and you then will be appreciating them like you appreciate your basic american freedoms, except moreso, and without having to send people to iraq.

also, i have no idea how i'm going to ship the goodness, as i have no money, so it might be in your best interest to go hang out on your roof(s) and watch for carrier pigeons. they'll be wearing green velvet bellman hats. that's how you'll they're mine.

i think that julius and nimoy have reached a point of simultaneous health, which is shocking and yet fills me with relief. it's probably also indicative of the fact that something all together new and horrifying should be happening any minute now.

along those lines, is it possible to eat so much fruit that it causes your pee to smell like juice?

just wondering.

this is of the utmost importance

2006-11-06T15:07:00.000-08:00

hypothetically, how many cats can a single woman have before she is too weird to be attractive to single men?

i'm not asking for any particular reason.

putting my degree to good use

2006-11-02T15:57:00.000-08:00

(probably as a wedge for my shakey table leg.)

i have a college education. i know what you're thinking, but it's true, i swear. i have the debt to prove it. i got my bachelor's in psychology, with all of my elective courses in english (which was nearly enough to be a double major) and then, because i had passion and talent and most importantly, no desire to get a job, i got a master's degree in writing.

WRITING.

of which i do none.

which is sort of a problem, so i signed up for NaNoWriMo, as threatened. thus far, i have 200 words, of which the majority are fuck. excerpt:

"fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck. why the fuck did i sign up for this fuck?"

the problem is, i have no inspiration. i have no point. i have no plot. i have no interest in anything at the moment, other than finding someone to give me money for no reason other than that I NEED IT, and possibly inventing vegan cheese. because i also need cheese.

really, i've written some jibberjabber about disappointments and the pleasure palace that is other people's chewing gum. trust me on that one. why can't this be NaPoWriMo? i'm good at cranking out little poetic gems. i'm concise! i am the master of 20 lines or less. novels are too much exposition. all those useless words... like pronouns and conjunctions. crap! all crap!

that's why i appreciate vivid (as in strong or intense, not as in- and i mean "in"- jenna jameson) novels. though his more recent work has been sub par, reading tom robbins always struck me as reading an enormously long poem- the visual sense of his words was that totally overwhelming. his plotlines may have been convoluted, his characters more caricatures, but i liked it. there was an undeniable appreciation on his part of the language itself and the way in which one word can completely change the connotations and history and entire makeup of a phrase, sentence, or story.

karen hesse's out of the dust is another sort of novel i would be interested in trying... a novel made up entirely of poems. poems that create an intimate portrait of a difficult time in a family's life, and in a way that is better executed than a great number of more traditional (and well-received) novels. here, let's give it a try.

fuck
fuckfuckfuck fuck
why the fuck did i
sign up for this

fuck.

yep. i like it.

halloween in my own personal hell

2006-10-31T15:56:00.000-08:00

i had my "procedure" this morning, and while i won't know the results till next week, the initial tests were good.

or so the doctor told me, once he stopped the bleeding. i've been spackled, and it was not as fun as it sounds.

i went to my procedure in costume, because i can. the nurse was one of those people who pretends to see nothing out of the ordinary. but who was she kidding?

my face is green!

the lady on the elevator kept looking at me like i was crazy, and then right before we got off she turned to me and said, "oh that's right! it's halloween!" that old biddy thought i was just some weirdo. i'll show her, when i show up next week dressed as xena warrior princess sings the blues.

anyway, i had intended on making costumes for my pets ((because that's how i roll) but i didn't have time, what with all the heavy drinking to dull my pain and whatnot. since i failed as a source of entertainment, i figured i'd make you a nice little mockup of atleast one of my spectacular feline couture designs.

that's right. you love it.
you know you do.

yet another step towards crazy-catlady-ness

2006-10-30T14:57:00.000-08:00

i went to a halloween party on saturday night and about half an hour into standing around like an idiot, it dawned on me that i hated this party, probably because as a general rule, i hate all parties.

i am a fairly entertaining person, and i can amuse just about anyone in a one-on-one or small group situation, but a party of this nature is not my scene. people i don't know want to talk to me about asinine things, invade my personal space and dance all up on me. the talking part is just a segue into the reckless humping part, and i am not pro-reckless humping. i do not know how to relate to men of this nature. example:

seemingly harmless guy dressed as vampire attempts to start conversation, and i really have no idea how this happened, but i somehow steer the conversation towards equestrian fetishes.

it was a logical transition, if i recall correctly, which i do because i was not drinking(!), but i could see (even as i was making the transition) that it was way beyond the conversational capabilities of this particular individual. which is pretty much what happens to me. i cannot associate with "regular" people. i say things that have no place being uttered, and i'm not just talking about ponytail buttplugs or implausibly long strings of cursewords. i have no place amongst the general public! i am no good for you, no good at all.

i do not like bars/clubs/parties because i do not know what to do with myself. boys offer to buy me a drink and i would rather run away than say yes or no because yes could lead to more talking (which would be pointless as outlined above) and no would be mean, and also something i have little experience with saying. OR. boys say something like, "so what do you like to do?" and i say words like, oh, anything i've ever written here, and suddenly they see someone they know over there. way the fuck over there.

casual conversation eludes me. i am a quirky girl and some people find that delightful, but others (lots of others) find my brand of quirk strange and disconcerting. i have had a man explicitly tell me to stop saying things of the nature of things i like to say (if that makes sense) because it makes people think i am weird.

which is actually the anglo-saxon word for fate. which is just the sort of thing i would say to a guy at a party and he would go, "hmmm. that's cool. i need another beer."

so i have decided this: from now on, i am ok with it and i will most certainly stop trying to hide it. i am not interested in someone who is not ever socially awkward, or who pretends that is the case. it is a sign of personality, and character, and frankly, if people can get beyond my initial impression of loud (kansas can you hear me?) and crazy and possibly swinging a large knowledge cock, they will find that i am generous (sometimes to a fault) and sensitive, and an excellent hypo-allergenic baker with yarn-spinning tendencies. and there i go again.

whatever. my cats love me.

please help

2006-10-25T15:32:00.000-07:00

i am currently accepting suggestions for posts.

also, i'm thinking of doing NaNoWriMo. is this a good idea?

today someone asked me if i was in fashion (i assume because of what i'm wearing) and then told me if i'm not i should be.

so from now on, i am. if you need anything, you know where to find me.

in fashion.

things that have happened in the last week*

2006-10-23T17:11:00.000-07:00

* that may or may not be nudging me ever closer to the line between "delightfully quirky" and "crazy bitch."

ONE: used amazon gift certificate to purchase sewing supplies (including a rotary cutter and heavyweight carpet thread) as well as a book on cadavers. am reasonably sure this combination has landed me on at least one fbi watch list, and am quite positive this combination renders me even more irresistible in the eyes of terrified white men between the ages of 18-44 everywhere. because statistically speaking, were i a serial killer, that would be the general profile of my victim. so hello. would you like to come in for a drink?

TWO: was vomited on by leonard nimoy, and said vomit was not really vomit per se, but more like pink foam and a pile of live, squiggling worms. overcame feelings of total gross out in order to tend to poor sick kitty. used oral syringe to give nimoy a mixture of wetfood and water overnight, as he was too weak to come out from under the coffee table. nimoy has now been treated (this is, unfortunately, pretty normal for a new cat) and with any luck will be fine. i however, am scarred for life.

THREE: endured the awkwardness of a would-have-been-three-year anniversary, that might have been less so if we didn't still have to live together, and if he weren't chatting up sluts on the internet.

FOUR: learned through the devil's magic that is science that i am indeed physiologically abnormal, and not just psychologically so. as such, have been scheduled for a (probably costly) "procedure." this is never good. considered canceling amazon order and using gift certificate for DIY procedure kit. decided against, because really, that book could be more useful than i initially thought.

i love tits

2006-10-19T11:52:00.000-07:00

happy birthday, tits mcgee!

i couldn't love you more if i tried. well, maybe a little more, but i'd need rope, lube and a zorro mask.

(this post serves as notice that i am alive. if you require further information, please contact my legal team here.)

this is not a threat

2006-10-16T15:33:00.000-07:00

i am having serious stomach problems. i think i might die.

i spent $200 at the vet this morning. again.

the water in my building has been shut off for the last 24 hours.

i feel like death.

do six hail marys

2006-10-13T13:01:00.000-07:00

and a beach pail of cocaine, and all will be forgiven.

internets, we have to talk.

i'm really disappointed in your recent behavior. in fact, i'm a little broken hearted over the whole thing. i expected better from you, but you didn't work up to your potential. and i mean at all. seriously.

i gave you a stellar post down there, and you gave me a measly 25 comments. what is that bullshit? i know that more than 500 people have seen this post. i have a sitemeter, and also hired guns. not to mention omnipotence, and really nice shoes. pretty much this is unacceptable. the post had sluttiness! and strap ons! and waxed asses! i don't know how much longer i can just give and give. what more do you people want from me?????

so your punishment is this random pile of crap that's been on my mind, and you will read it, every last morsel.

it really bothers me when people misuse the word "ripen." fruits do not ripen further after being picked. it makes me want to punch the offender in the neck.

i think my feet are growing.

my knitting spot is right near the litterbox and so i've become aware of the fact that leonard nimoy talks to himself while he's pooing.

meeting sysm was delightful, and not just because he paid for dinner. that sounds bad, but he did, and i appreciated it, so i'm leaving it in. kiss my ass. sysm was smart, and kind, and funny. and he seems like a good tipper, though i don't know for sure.

i hope my family gives me money for the holidays. except my parents, because they don't have to give me anything. except a place to sleep and food to eat when i go home. and also maybe help me pay to ship more of my crap from their attic to los angeles. there's like four tupperwares full of yarn up there, you know.

the word paraskavedekatriaphobia sounds made up to me.

oranges are delicious, but a pain in the ass. if i were a rockstar i would put it on my rider that i wanted pre-peeled oranges to eat. and they would do it, because i rule with an iron fist.

see what you made me do? that will teach you.

belated birthday

2006-10-10T17:29:00.000-07:00

now that i've been 26 for like ten days, i figured i'd reward you for sticking it out through my last three posts full of kitties. (obligatory joke featuring the "p" word: because even though the majority of my readers love pussy, that's not the kind they come here for. and ah-thank you. *bows*)

those of you who would prefer to think of me only as a sweet (yet slightly saucy) individual with the knitting and the meowsers, i suggest you simply look here or here and then come back tomorrow.

so. this post is l-o-n-g, so you should sit down. trust me.

the night of my birthday began like any other night, with me relaxing in my trusty orange pajamas... but then, out of no where, pigs flew and my apartment got really cold and the devil went down to georgia, and these are surely signs that it was time to get my whore on. i hopped in my hussymobile and sped off to my friend Mercy's house, for the best part of any evening with the girls...

getting ready.
make sure to note the knitting, as it
really fits right in with the theme of the evening.

there was about ten tons of makeup on the coffee table for everyone to choose from, in the great tradition of club kids everywhere, and the even greater tradition of one of my dream careers. *le sigh* if only.

here i am, draggin' it up.
i like how my hair is all swooshed back, so you can see
my sevenhead. i considered pancaking my eyebrows
and drawing them back on three inches higher.
you know, for fun.

then we all put on our outfits, and Mercy (who requested her face be blurred because she is in the witness protection program) had to get lubed. yes, that's right. lubed. silicone lubed! (water soluble, and non-gloopy!) she wore a red latex dress, which requires lubrication, not only to keep it soft and supple and not rippy, but also because it's just prettier when it's shiny. most things are.

the best part was later in the night when i dropped
to my knees and relubed her in the middle of the club.
it was necessary, but also highly entertaining.
for everyone.

so here's what i wore.

having reached the pinnacle of rock hotness,
i look like a slutty girl version of slash.
SCORE!

in case you can't tell, i'm wearing the bitchin' top hat that lady linoleum made for me, a wig that looks essentially like my own hair but much longer, a very skimpy top, green bra (to match my eye makeup, bitches!), very very skimpy skirt (with jolly roger undies beneath), widefence fishnets, and the coolest "belt" ever, the skull that draws all eyes to my loins. all will flock! (shout out to spinnerina)

don't forget the six inch heeled nazi hooker boots!
i'm all business.

my makeup, for your enjoyment:
my septum ring looks like a dusty black booger.
other than that, i'm so hot i don't know how you stand it.

and the four of us,
Mercy, miss kendra, pinksara, laurieann

SO! then, just before eleven, we ran off to miss kitty's parlour and valeted the car like the deserving girls we are, and entered the club.

at first, i must admit, i was unimpressed. the last "fetish" club i went to was much more imposing at a glance. there was more black and velvet and candley things etcetera, etcetera. so we got some shots. and then, pretty much immediately after that, the first performance of the evening began. there weren't any cameras allowed, but let me assure you, the images are forever burned into my mind.

pretty much it was these three,
but with less cartoonishness,
and a whole lot more strapons.

the crowd included a young man who's lip rings looked like tusks. he made out with pinksara for a good chunk of the night, showing her a good time, and simultaneously breaking the silver shirt she wore (my shirt) on its maiden voyage into the public eye. while it is fixable, i sort of enjoy knowing how it met its early demise.

there were more shots, and more shots, and an odd man wearing tuxedo leiderhosen who reminded me of this guy and so was dubbed "the german." there was a guy in a spandexy outfit that covered his whole body and face, and some girls in very little. some boys in very little too, actually. there was an oiled up muscley man in a pink/purple speedo being led around by an enormous (not fat, just really really large) bottle blonde.

in one room there was what resembled depression-era european porn being projected on the wall, and everyone in it looked suitably morose, having just waited in nine hour lines for a loaf of bread and now being subjected to this. one woman was a gilf, if you like depressed women i guess.

when pinksara's shirt kept falling off (that boy was incredibly enthusiastic), we had to run to the bathroom and fix it repeatedly. there was a man with a camera in there (the official photographer? or pervert...or both? you decide.) who took our pictures in a non-creepy way, but then tried again and again to convince pinksara that she should show him her nipples. just one. just for a minute.

when that didn't work, he suggest that he could lick one, offering like the gentleman he clearly was, to close his eyes. she politely declined.

after, i did more shots. then a girl in a pink wig and a teensie bikini and giant shoes stole me away to the side stage, where she bent me over a fur covered table horse, handcuffed me, and allowed a man clad in a jockstrap, a butcher's apron, and scads of glitter to spank my bottom. as i understand it, the first paddle-to-miss-kendra contact resulted in an all too perfect popping of one of the strings on my fishnets. i, of course, have no idea, as i was upside down. and also my head doesn't go in that direction anyway.

the strangest part (in my opinion) (and it was my butt, so i think my opinion's fairly relevant) was that there was a spotlight right on me. i was pretty impressed with myself for allowing such a thing (the spotlight. i'm fairly pro-spanking to begin with.), and very proud of myself for having the foresight to double up on the underpants. they allowed me to relax some when the glitterbutcher manipulated the jolly roger panties into my crack in order to expose as much as possible, and then pour hot wax on it.

that's right. he poured it on my ass.

we met a genial rastaman named King Richard who asked us to return for his reggae show. he requested that we wear the same outfits, and i don't think it was so he would recognize us.

there was more drinking, and staring, and drinking, and laughing. then i danced with my leg over the shoulder of one of their stage dancers. and then i danced with some incredibly handsome man who (sadly) did not smell as good as he looked. how dare he! comingling the delightful cookie scent with his odor did little to dispel it, but i was drunk and cared little, if at all.

i woke up in the morning slightly sore, with a headache, but surprisingly puke-free. and strangely, i couldn't shake the thought that the handsome man may have bitten my bottom, though i have no proof either way. anyway, who could blame him? it had just been waxed and polished.

delicious! like fruit.

teh bitchez!

2006-10-09T14:09:00.001-07:00

blogger won't let me do anything today, and here i was, about to tell you all about my birthday exploits.

my other task for today was a blog redesign on behalf of my lovely friend laurieann. but blogger gives her nothing! NOTHING!

goddammotherfuckingcocksuckingtittielickingbloodyassholesonofabitch.

i guess now would be a good time to just point out i've messed with the sidebar again, and there are some new people if you're interested.

have a nice day.

i'm old, not dead

2006-10-03T17:57:00.000-07:00

i'm sorry i haven't checked in. there will be a post about the birthday festivities, as promised, but things have been a little off at my palatial estate.

over the last few days julius boon seemed a little groggy and uninterested in his food. i thought maybe this was a delayed response to leonard nimoy, or a boycott of the cat dishes' relocation to the totally inconvenient countertop (pickles has taken to binging on catfood). on saturday evening julius crawled into my lap (this never happens.) and stayed there for THREE WHOLE HOURS. he might as well have erected a giant sign in the living room. all was not well.

he spent most of sunday in my lap, like an eleven-pound ball of hot hot fire and cat boogers. i for sure have pms because i was convinced he would die and i spent most of the day fighting the chinese chestnut in my throat. on the bright side, leonard nimoy also cuddled in my lap, and it was a pigpile of kitty lovin. apart from the possible death in progress, i rather enjoyed it.

please ignore the girl behind the kitties.

leonard nimoy had also been sneezing a bit, but it didn't seem all that important, especially in comparison to the awesome diarrhea he's been rocking since his arrival. he's been on meds, but they don't seem to be doing anything. in fact, when i looked them up on the wise and all powerful internets, one of the side effects listed for the anti-diarrheal is diarrhea.

huh.

monday morning i awoke to a wheezy cathead and a very sweaty leg next to where he had been sleeping. i tucked my sweet yammie* back into bed and took pickles for his walk. while on the phone with the cat vet, i noticed pickles' armpit looked like someone used a cheese grater on it. as i looked closer, i realized he is once again covered in spots. (for those of you unfamiliar with the pickles legacy, let's just say it's a long one.) (beginning here and occuring most recently here.)

so i called his vet too.

the dog vet couldn't fit us in, but since this is a pretty common occurence in our home, she wrote an emergency prescription (or as she called it, "the usual") and scheduled something for later in the week. in the meantime, i gave him a bath (medicated shampoo makes my hands tingle!) and vacuumed/washed all the rugs and bedding. it was really fun. like dentist and gynocologist in the same day kind of fun.

but it didn't stop there! i also got to pile the cats into the car and drive them (and their tiny (but constant) meows of utter and complete pain, terror, and resignation to the futility of it all) all the way to the vet, where we discovered julius had a fever of 104.3 degrees. HE WAS BOILING! i mean, normal for a cat is 100ish, which is also boiling i guess, but my yammie! he was like a cat full of burning lava! nimoy has no bugs, so his poo problem is a mystery. mystery poo is better than worm poo i guess. as long as it's in the box, it's not really an issue. (thank god for clumping litter. seriously.) he got some more medicine, as maybe that will help, and also just in case he is a carrier of the evil booger virus that struck down my julius, who got a shot, and some pills, and is already feeling much better. better enough to eat some food (i had to go buy the other kind, because that cat? he won't eat the same one leonard nimoy eats. he is special. and you shouldn't forget that), but still sick enough to sit in my lap again. hooray! i mean, get well soon!

*julius+ tuber themed nickname (all my pets receive one) = orange potato = yam

that's right

2006-09-29T10:49:00.000-07:00

it's my motherfucking birthday.

let's play.

i wish to make a complaint.

2006-09-27T17:56:00.000-07:00

sorry, we're closin' for lunch...

i've cultivated an appreciation for this specific type of thing, you see. i'm sort of really into it and i can't get enough. i spend time everyday scouring the internet for images to quell my unending thirst, but nothing helps.

it's becoming a problem. i’m a little embarrassed— i know it’s wrong. i started liking it in highschool after i dated this one guy who had a really big one, and things have just never been the same. i don’t want to encourage any unhealthy regimens by endorsing this sort of thing, but i must say… i like fatties. i really like them. it might be love. i could look at them all day, stretched out on their backs, huge jiggly bellies for all the world to see.

i want to grab their rolls and smoosh my face in them.

because once they’ve passed the kitten benchmark, there's really nothing i like so much as a totally fucking corpulent cat. rowr!

that said, this is my complaint: despite it’s reputation, i have found through extensive research that (at least on my internet) there is an acute shortage of fatty porn. the situation is dire. i was on catster earlier (yes, catster. yes, it’s like myspace but for cats. shhh. i know.) and i was pretty sure i had hit the jackpot when I came across this “group” for “plus sized” catster members.

i was all excited. i had visions of enormous furry butts dancing in my head. it was a dream come true. until i took the time (out of my busy work day) to actually look.

since when is 15 pounds plus sized? that cat is average! mediocre! i’m not into that shit. i want big! bigger! (and this cat is 15 pounds... on the moon. this cat is 15 pounds of 3 pound increments.)biggest!

now please leave me with me with my thoughts and this stack of clinical obesity literature. i have fatties to show some serious lovin’.

live long and prosper

2006-09-25T15:27:00.001-07:00

for the past week i've been running around the internets telling everyone that *golden state* was in the family way.

some of you thought this meant i was pregnant. while i appreciate your confidence in the power of my womb, i assure you that were i pregnant, there would be far more curse words, and probably vomiting. and curse words.

the thing is, is i have a heart *this big.* for those of you who have a monitor smaller than the known universe, i'll just tell you. it's big. it's big like a baboon's butt is red; very, and sometimes embarrassingly so.

anyway, you know pickles

and you know rabbi julius boon, phd

i now present, in his very first appearance on the internets.....

he's six months old, a flame point siamese,
and the most handsome spokesman
mac has ever had.

he arrived on friday night,
and promptly poo'd the dog bed.

he enjoys gadgets and appliances,
including the mac, the fridge, the cable box
and that pesky lava lamp.

he's incredibly ~~slutty~~ affectionate,
and often screams until you agree to love him.
(this quality is creating an air of competition
in the home and i can't say i really
mind the sibling rivalry. it's nice to have
julius love me without quite so much
talons and teeth once in a while.)

aside from a well-placed and punishing wound
i received immediately following his arrival,
julius and pickles have found him fairly innocuous.
when julius licked nimoy's sleeping face there was
so much cutenessthat i actually died.
i was revived with cookies. it's good to have them on hand.

you can see that being siamese, his eyes are sort of wonky.
this is adorable.
if you disagree, i'm not sure we're friends.
someone who is a jerk uses this characteristic
to call leonard nimoy "corky."
this is evil and inappropriate and leonard nimoy
plans to kill this person while this person is sleeping.

possibly the best part of the whole deal is that i received an early birthday present at the exact same time of leonard nimoy's arrival.

thank you, spinnerina. your timing is impeccable.

titles are stupid and they make me angry

2006-09-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

i've been trying all week to find something to post.

i have nothing.

tuesday was incredibly long and gray. it rained inside.

i lay in my bed at night and wait.

i sit in my chair all day and wait.

sometimes songs come on that make me think of people, and i do think of them.

every hour feels like twenty five. seconds pass too loudly. my skin tingles and aches.

often, i almost cry.

i don't know why.

...i know i know you well
well better than i used to
haze all clouded up my mind, in the daze
of the why it could've never been
so you say and i say
you know you're full of wish
and your 'baby baby baby babies'
i tell you there's pieces of me you've never seen
maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen

well all the world is
all i am
the black of the blackest ocean
and that tear in your hand
all the world is danglin
danglin
danglin for me, darlin'
you dont know the power that you have with that
tear in your hand...

dress up!

2006-09-18T17:15:00.000-07:00

remember me in vegas? i have a twin.

that's unrelated to anything else, i just thought it was funny. so.

this past weekend i went shopping. i needed hooker boots to wear out to the club next weekend. (because for my birthday, i want to be six foot three and intimidating.) anyway, you know how babies come from the stork and cheese comes from the moon and wars in the middle east come from trickery and lies? well, hooker boots come from hollywood boulevard, so there i went, with uccellina and monkeygurrl.

we went into a bunch of stores, perusing the g-strings and vinyl hotpants. there was one store that had a whole section devoted to garments made entirely of crystals and chain, and i'm pretty sure that were we rich girls, it could have turned ugly.

now, as a general rule, i don't like to be spoken to by people i don't know. this can make shopping unpleasant when there are sales predators on the loose, but fortunately, we wandered about relatively unscathed. in one store we were rescued by the owners having to corral their eight (possibly nine) year old child, as he ran around in circles amidst the undies and whips and things. i don't know why they were worried- that seems like a totally appropriate place for him to be.

we looked at some "sexy" halloween costumes, and though i had originally thought i might make my costume, i don't think i will have time. we threw around some ideas, like the classics (nurse/cop/schoolgirl), the trends (pirate), the pretty but generally indicative of a certain brand of craziness (fairy), and my personal favorite, the lying or honest whore.

i'm undecided. of course i want to be seen as attractive, but i have little desire to parade my ladybits around like waiter with a hors d'oeuvres tray. if i had a partner you know, we could do a theme. jeannie and major nelson! ground control and major tom! if i had a red headed friend, we could be ginger and maryanne. if she were blonde, dorothy shaw and lorelei lee! or should i go as something frightening? a zombie? a socialite? a president of the united states? or i could go as the scariest mannequin on earth:

any and all suggestions will be considered. please keep in mind that i am poor and also not an idiot. thank you.

nooooooooooo!

2006-09-14T13:58:00.000-07:00

the flag is at half mast today, as "supernova," who may not be named supernova anymore, has proven to be a grouping of possibly the stupidest people on earth.

they chose lukas.
lukas! this guy!

hear him and his strange pinchy voice here. what were they thinking????? he sounds like he's trying to squeeze out a poo! and his head! it's just so small!

jason newsted- how could you do me like that? and after all the hot sex we shared in my dreams. i'm not sure i can ever forgive you.

i have to focus all my energies on my other secret celebrity boyfriends now. i'll just have to dream of julian mcmahon. he's not even my type. see what you've done jason newsted???? you've been replaced by a man with sculpted eyebrows and minimal chest hair! it's not right.

in fact it's very very wrong. very very deliciously wrong.

speaking of my dreams, lately i dream of two things: the awkward hurtiness, and phantom pets. i much prefer the pet dreams, wherein i've accumulated four dogs:

amelia

scullie

mr. miyagi

wickett

and a swell cat:
skeletor

but it's just not fair. i wake up so sad! where have my babies gone? someday i shall have a tiny dog to call my own. and certainly there will be more cats. because who doesn't need more cats? they go so nicely with my knitting and spinning and general sense of hermitness.

in a perfect world, everytime i dreamt of a new pet, i would wake up and he'd be there. and craft supplies would be free, and julian mcmahon would sponsor me so i could devote my life to the glorious making of things, and lukas would go back to flipping chicken wings at hooters, and someone would buy me a miniature pony.

sigh.

the following things are bothering me:

2006-09-12T13:11:00.000-07:00

one: i am at "work" but should be at home making presents. there are so many presents to be made! i should also be buying the appropriate supplies for those presents, but the money? it's missing.

two: the toilets here at work are oddly shaped and i have to sit really far back on them to avoid splashback. yes, i actually put my butt on the toilet here. our bathrooms are sparkly clean. however, i hate splashback, and i hate sitting with my butt against the back of the toilet. i go to the bathroom about seven times a day (at work, and about five or six more at home) so now the question becomes which do i hate more?

three: i have a three huge zits on my face. i know they are huge because they each have their own rover.

four: there is something sort of big going on right now and it's weird and awkward and hurty and the only thing that will fix it at this point is money, which i have little of. i need atleast $2000 more dollars before i can really address it, and unless my accident money comes strolling in (fashionably late), it's going to take till february at least for me to save that. beside which, my accident money needs to pay back my parents and go towards atleast one of my credit cards. so a minimum of five more months of silent awkward hurty suffering (now with less fun!) is on the agenda.

five: my birthday is in 17 days. i have no idea what is happening. if you feel compelled to give me something, which you should not, but if you do, and you aren't sure what i might like (as someone has pointed out), let me suggest the following options:

giftcards to michaels craft stores, joann fabrics, amazon or ebay
or
paypal money towards the relief of my awkwardness.

six: i have been dieting and doing very well and not cheating and yet i haven't lost a single pound. not even one! not even half of one! this is bullshit. poppycock!

seven: i forgot to put on deodorant this morning and had to use the spray one we keep in our well stocked ladies room. now i smell like powdered baby butts.

eight: i get all weepy when i think about how tough a time this must be for anna nicole. what a weird thing for me to be focusing on.

nine: i find julian mcmahon attractive.

every year it comes again

2006-09-11T12:55:00.000-07:00

today is one of those days where i'm surprised by how easily everything goes on.

i feel this way for a two distinct reasons.

of course, the first is what happened five years ago. the way we live our lives changed. every bit of our lives were earned again. i find myself curling inwards in an effort to avoid reliving the day, if only because i still empathize so strongly that i'm not sure i could do it. i am devastated by what i imagine others to be feeling- not just today, but everyday- the constant phantom pain, the emptiness where there once was someone whom they loved. someone like robert l. cruikshank, age 64, who was the father of my friend.

the second reason is my sister, my little bee, whose birth i watched twenty years ago today, and who i was first to hold. everyday i know she isn't there, but today especially, i love her.

and every year, until we can find a middle ground, i will repeat these words for you.

* samantha *

we exist together only in these photographs, static

and two-dimensional. i love you out of habit.
strange little chrysalis, small and unripe

in my mind forever. i have not known your process or life,
you, who may also have my mother’s hands—

i haven’t seen them lately, i would not know. i can’t
escape thoughts of you thinking of me.

i fear in this exact moment you are feeling like an only
child. sometimes i have to remind myself that you are

real… for more than half your life we have lived apart
and i have missed everything, each word we should have shared,

but then i would not have picked them as carefully. now there
is so much lost in the endless sky between where i am and

las vegas. do you keep me in the back of your mind,
sister— do your memories, like mine, deceive?

or do you listen close at night, to see if you can hear me breathe?

i'm sending you all creepy awful avian type things

2006-09-06T12:18:00.000-07:00

as you may recall, i am afraid of birds.

which made me love this:

natalie dee speaks my language.

now proceed to the holiday goodness requests below. last year i made ornaments for everyone, customized for the recipient.

for example: for sarah smile, i made a sea horse. she likes strange animals.

for wombat, i made a christmas tree covered in eyes.

i need to know your preferences, or you will quite seriously receive something that is potentially horrid and grotesque. i'm collecting scabs at this very moment. those are for sprinkling on toast, but i have months to figure out something icky for you people.

attention!

2006-09-05T17:36:00.000-07:00

i am compiling my list for this year's holiday goodness.

if you would like to be on the list (and were not already) please email me your address and favorite color. specifically. like not just "blue." i want to know if you like robin's egg blue, true blue, blueberry blue, or kool-aid blue. it's important. the safety of 81 civilians depends on it! actually, this may have nothing to do with anything, but i'd like to know.

if you have previously received holiday goodness (or goodness of other varieties) but have moved, please email me your updated information. and your favorite color.

if you don't, i'll be forced to make your gift based solely on what i think you should have. which is coal. and cod liver oil. and old bandaids.

in summary: cut and paste the following into an email addressed to me, then fill in the blanks (at least your name, address, and one of the assorted others) and then press the shiny send button.

name:
address:
favorite color:
animal:
something you like that maybe i woudn't think of:
polka dots or stripes:

thank you.

things to know about san francisco

2006-09-01T12:48:00.000-07:00

in order to properly prepare you for any visits to the san francisco area, i have detailed my visit with sarah smile below. you should be ready for any of the following, and possibly also more, including but not limited to: alien invasion, The Big One, robot revolt, cheezit hail storms, the second coming of pat morita. (oh please oh please oh please!!!)

also please note that i take no responisbility for your safety should you choose to reenact my weekend- especially the part with the englishman.

i am prone to falling asleep (read: passing the fuck out) when in the car for any length of time. strangely, i managed to say awake the whole way there. i credit this to the interesting scenery, which included cows, brown cows, black cows, white cows, and black and white cows. also the smell of cows for miles in every direction.

we also passed by some orchards and some fields. there were grapes and various fruit trees and a magnificent crop of something shiny, which i can only assume was sequins. they're best just before they're ripe.

we played a rousing car game called "tire or dead animal," which was more challenging than you might think.

there was a constant stream of trucks on the road carrying various food items. the first one we saw was shaped like a giant bathtub on wheels and looked as if it might spill over. we thought it was wood chips from afar, but it was potatos. potatos! very large, pretty much bowl sized potatos. later we saw an almond truck, which i imagine would smell nice were i allowed to burrow inside it. then in a moment of pure brilliance, i imagined utopia, and it was a giant loaf of freshly baked bread in which to burrow... and then eat my way out.

mostly we saw tomato trucks, and even when we lost sight of them there was a constant reminder- tomatos overboard, left for dead on the side of the road. (later, on the way home, we passed a truck full of ducks. i can't really explan that one.)

all of my people were in san francisco this past weekend. i don't know if this is a scientifically reliable representation, but seriously! the following groups of people were in san francsico this weekend, all readily available for my enjoyment:

def leppard (wooooooooo! rock!)
the rennaissance faire (woooooo! pantaloons!)
the arts and crafts exhibition (woooooo! stuff for making other stuff!)
the tattoo expo (wooooooo! awesomely painful body modification condemned by my religion as a whole!)

i think this makes it pretty clear that san francisco not only needs me, but desires me with the sort of smoldering white-hot lust that could only be matched by the heat created if i were to accidentally hump an englishman on the F line. which i did, so it's fall good.

sarah waits for boarding. she is very cute.
i wait for boarding. i am a giant in comparison.

and even after the whole very close touching debacle, the nice man gave us directions!

those directions led us to chinatown, where there are many many items in very small places. i almost bought chinese zodiac cookie cutters, because, why not? but i felt that they shapes weren't clearly defined. i mean, the boar looked prety much the same as the ox, and what is that bullshit?

me in chinatown, post streetcar humping.
you can see i look rumpled.

san francisco is incredibly cold. in august, in california, one should not have to wear two shirts and two sweaters and still be cold. this excursion has confirmed in my mind that going home for christmas to the boston area will be interesting, as i will surely step off the plane into the freezing cold desolation and promptly die.

san francisco requires specialty clothing, and not just thermal wear. i believe that my trip would have been far less dangerous (and had slightly less humping) had i been in possesion of stickypants™. in my understanding, stickypants™ would be much like regular pants, but with helpful treads along the bottom (like this) to keep your butt on the seat where it belongs. which would be nice when riding a cable car up a giant hill, or when sailing in the bay and the boat is suddenly sideways.

also important to note: when sailing in the bay with strangers, maybe don't make a big deal about how much you enjoy looking at prisons. even though there are two really large and spectacular ones right there, you probably shouldn't shriek "WOW!" because some people might find you creepy.

WOW!

san francisco is also a hot spot for the viewing of boobs. i myself saw three naked pair, and one GLORIOUS pair that was only seminaked. during my most excellent dinner with chantel, xt, and jenL, we were forced (and i mean forced) to stage a "group photograph" in order to facilitate the positioning needed to snap a shot of their unearthly glow. when the owner of the breasts walked by me on my way out, i was possessed by the sudden and barely containable urge to shmoosh them together and bury my face in between. i think it was a religious experience.

and speaking of religious experiences... there was the wedding of strangers. it was far away. and by the time we were on the road, my feet were so swollen from the evil magic of witches that i had to buy a new pair of shoes. but the wedding location was beautiful, and the service was relatively short. the strangers seemed happy, which is always good, and looked lovely together. aside from the large and overwhelming presence of lord jesus, i would say it was nice. i did come armed with an awkward conversation avoidance tactic, just in case.

wedding guest: "blah blah blah wedding blah blah blah jesus?"

miss kendra: "i'm sorry. i don't know. i'm a scientologist. would you care for a free stress test?"

but we were hungry, so then we left and went to carls jr. we are class all the way.

the drive home was long. and dark. and long. next time i might fly just to avoid that. also because i drive a monster truck and the gas cost would be a month's rent.

all in all, san francisco was wonderful. i have already alerted jiggs casey to the fact that i would like to move there in the moderately near future, and as such he should begin decorating my room immediately.

i require a new year's dragon for my ceiling. i hope that can be arranged.

temple yammie yisrael

2006-08-25T13:15:00.000-07:00

my cat is a religious leader. i just found out, but i must say i'm rather pleased. he *is* quite wise and i find his presence comforting. especially when he licks my face. he brings peace to families all over the united states! i know this revelation may come as a surprise to many of you, but i can illustrate it with some more of your favorite.....

time for SIMPLE MATH!

it’s pretty clear. the resemblance is uncanny.

also, i'm going to san francisco this weekend, with valancy jane (sarah smile).

i've had the pleasure of her company once before, so that won't be too weird, but we're going to stay with people i've never met, in order to attend the wedding of some other people i've never met. which probably will be very weird, but maybe a good story.

i get to go sailing! and go to china town! and have dinner with chantel, xt, and jenL. could this BE any more exciting? i don't think so!

if only i could bring julius boon, phd along for the trip. that would rule. besides, you never know when it might be helpful to have a rabbi. i mean, it is a wedding. he could officiate.

why you should instant message with me

2006-08-23T12:56:00.000-07:00

i posted at nick's house again.

here is a sample, to make you want to go read our conversation.

miss kendra says:
i think so. but i like knowing how things are made. at this rate i'm going to end up a spinster. literally. all alone, spinning yarn, and chasing away the neighbor children with my scary unmarried face

Nick says:
you will have talking mice friends though (he knows what i like)

miss kendra says:
YES! i'm so excited now! i hope i get really good at these things, because people will pay alot of money for a custom corset.

Nick says:
so you're saying you'll be a rich spinster with magical talking mice friends and also gnomes

miss kendra says:
essentially. why? doesn't that sound right?

the world is crazy

2006-08-22T11:48:00.000-07:00

we interrupt this display of pantaloons (wooooooooooooo!) to bring you a very serious update.

the terrorists have won.

when american boobs are no longer free to be hoisted heavenward- and isn't that the quintessential american dream?- indeed the end is nigh. what of those women who have implants? mightn't their enormous bags of goo in fact be beautiful breasts of doom?

and wouldn't that be ironic? using what we love (and they hate) against us?

now back to your regularly scheduled joyous pantalooning.

pantaloons!

2006-08-21T16:28:00.000-07:00

that's all.

i've had some work done.

2006-08-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

i know it's very different, but please try to love it.

don't forget the footer!

worship my mad templating skills!

supernova = crack heads?

2006-08-17T11:24:00.000-07:00

WHAT THE FUCK?

they kept patrice? and got rid of zayra? i mean, yeah, zayra occasionally sounded like a mortally wounded foreign exchange student yodeling from beneath a mountain of mechanically seperated chicken parts, but atleast she had flair! patrice is like the invisible woman. she gets up on the stage and i know someone's there, but i don't see anyone.

the band members and hosts are so awesome though. they're like insane blind-person drawn caricatures of imitations of real people.

host brooke: your monotone tries to hypnotize me into believing your breasts are real. i keep imagining you as a paper doll, and i press different outfits up against you to see what looks silliest. whatever rock chick shit they dress you in always wins.

host dave navarro: you think you're so clever with your misleading post-performance statements. but woah! then you flip it! because everyone is awesome!!!!!! now sit up straight. also, you have an alarming lack of chest hair for a man who so closely resembles the wolfman.

bandmate gilby clarke: you are a jabillion lightyears beyond this. you actually have coherent and relevant things to say. i liked it when you cut down the stripper (jill joia) who pretended not to know who courtney love was. sometimes when you watch the rockstars sing i can see you die a little inside.

bandmate jason newsted: let's make out. i adore that your during performance reaction is pretty much always a disappointed

why won't these people ROCK????
i know, jason newsted. i know.

bandmate tommy lee: always with the cheeky commentary. keep it in your pants. i know you might find that difficult a whole two hours a week, but please. flirt less, drum more. stop telling the guys how being in your band will get them laid. don't you know this show is all about the high quality music?

and of course, our top seven rockstars in summary:

patrice: you look nearly as ridiculous in your hollywood rocker gear as brooke burke. atleast you have some semblance of motion. just go home and put on your jammie pants. you know you want to.

toby: i finally know who you are! all it took was nudity, and cutting half the cast.

ryan star: you have a girl's name. she was on american idol. you are incredibly dramatic and you stare dreamily into the camera, but i think it might be ok.

magni: you are attractive and you have a nice voice. you are very good in all ways, but do not make me excited any.

lukas: you started out impressive, but now i see you just mask your limitations well. you want to kill the singer for "my chemical romance" and steal his band/eyeshadow. also, your head is small.

storm large: please keep your eyeballs in their sockets. you are mcuh prettier when they remain there. you are very talented, but i suspect you secretly long to do musical theatre.

dilana: stop pretending to be a goth fairy and buy some real clothes. also, you are not stevie nicks. you are talented, but i am bored of you. i like your hair though.

i'm not sure who i want to win. i don't know "supernova's" music, so it's hard to say who would be a good fit. all i know is that next week there will be a serious lack of crazy metallic vinyl catsuit corset leotards, capes and plastic hooker boots now that zayra is gone.

and i will weep. i will weep for us all.

reach out and touch faith

2006-08-15T18:39:00.000-07:00

i have very little coherence available to me right now, but there are some things you should know.

one.

i am fat today.

two.

gene simmons seems fun. i would like to have him and his family over for pie. i don't know what sort of pie they like, but i am willing to make several.

three.

saturday was interesting. i knitted in the morning, then saw the following things as the day progressed:
~a bowling shirt with an embroidered mooning bambi
~a halter top that read “foxy bitch”
~a polyester rainbow/cloud printed jogging shirt with a very wide double layered disco collar
~not one, but TWO girls in a café on labrea decked out in full on crazy lolita alice in wonderland gear (one of the skirts was so short that when she sat down at the table i’m sure her bare butt was on the seat)
~orange suede leiderhosen

then, on saturday night i went to a fetish bar. the website is sucky, but maybe you can get a decent idea from looking at the "souls" section. it was impromptu, and i am generally more pub than club, but even with that said, i don’t think i was expecting quite what i got. the very first thing i saw when i walked in was a girl splayed on a chaise lounge with her friend in a position that could only be described as “airing one’s crotch.” from the soft-core fetish films being projected on a building wall to the girl licking her girlfriend’s boot and then making out with her (the actual bottom of the boot- wtf? be gay, be in to s&m, be into bodily fluids for all i care- but that boot walked down hollywood boulevard and that is seriously gross), to the men in questionable amounts of latex/leather/mesh… ooh ooh! and the girl being groped and manipulated in front of a devoted audience and the 98% naked dancing bar girls and the guy being flogged by a very small woman with surprising strength? and then personal jesus came on and i was tempted to dance naked, but i didn't. that's for sundays, fool. anyway it was interesting to say the least. i think i will have my birthday there. who’s in?

four.

i went to the optometrist today for the first time in FIVE AND A HALF YEARS and she played cartoons for me on a projection screen while she looked at my eyeballs. it was all fine and dandy until this came on. what sort of torturous device is this, that she would drop liquid in my eyes to make them gluey and slow, place my head in a hannibal-mask so she could “measure my curvature” and then play such fabulous music (and the monkeys! oh the monkeys!) but not allow me to dance? not to mention the fact that she poked my eye with a stick. a sterile metal stick that scientifically measures pressure, but still a stick. all i ever did was love science and it poked me without my permission!

it took me a while to choose new frames because the ones i wanted were super hot but not at all practical. i got similar ones that don’t make me look quite as bad assed. it’s hard to pick glasses when you’re trying to picture how you will look in them pajama-clad and unkempt on the morning dogwalk. i will post pictures of my lovely new glasses when they arrive and you will give me due worship, oh yes, you will.

five.

i made ubermilf an apron. it rules. you should see some up close pictures of it, so i will post them here when i get home. you better come back and look at them.

uber apron!

uber cupcakes!

i like making things. it gives me a false sense of order in a fundamentally fucked up world.

six.

(in rhyme) my flesh is all red and irritated. it has been for two days. something bit my breast, not in the good fetish bar way.

call me

2006-08-09T17:27:00.000-07:00

for some reason, i am in popular demand.

not in my actual real life, and not by anyone i actually really know, but still. when you're an attention whore, anything will do.

i almost never pick up my phone. i hate it. i hate holding it up to my ear, i hate the way it gets all smeary from being next to my skin. yes, i'm oily. move on.

i glance at the caller id when i hear ringing, but really, it doesn't matter to me who you are. you would have to be calling at the exact moment all the planets and their moons were properly aligned, during the seventh month of the lunar calendar, after having properly placated an albino boa with a set of two headed lambs, all the while wearing this (and this) in order for me to even consider considering picking up the phone.

i don't know why this is. if you want to come over, i'll probably talk to you till you throw yourself off a balcony, but the phone thing just doesn't work for me.

that said, i do pick up 9 times out of ten when the number comes up "unavailable." i realize that's when most people are least likely to answer, but my parents are "unavailable" (this statement leading me to be the number one search result for bad parenting, which is probably true as i have a troubling fascination with the girls next door and a penchant for donuts and vodka) and so i pick up, calculating probabilities based on time zone disparities, wagering that it's them.

unfortunately, for some very strange reason, it rarely is. for a good three months it was numerous strangers inquiring on a daily basis about the boat for sale. because earlier this year, when i was having all that money trouble, wouldn't all have been resolved if i would just sell my fucking boat?

why indeed???

because i don't own a boat. nor do i know anyone who does. nor did i give anyone i don't know who may own one permission to PAINT MY PHONE NUMBER ALONG THE SIDE OF SAID BOAT* TO AID IN ITS EVENTUAL OWNER TRANSFERENCE.

i'm assuming that this situation has resolved itself, as i have not received a boat call in a while. that's ok though, as i am not lacking for interesting conversation. last week my phone rang and when i answered i was greeted by a pleasant sounding elderly man who introduced himself as Grandpa and asked if i was ok, since i had just called.

i convinced him i was ok before gently breaking the news that i thought he might have the wrong number. Grandpa was greatly apologetic. he was audibly flustered and and even after i had assured him that it was ok, i didn't mind, he seemed to linger on the line. i waited for him to say goodbye and hang up, but it didn't seem to be happening anytime soon.

i grew concerned. it was nearing dinner time. what was i to do? wait forever? press the end button? you can't just hang up on Grandpa! it's unseemly.

"well, bye," i said. "have a good night." and there it ended. (anti-climactic, i know. what did you want? for the old man to cry? you're just mean, and i won't indulge that.) then i ate meatballs. they were good.

most recently, i have begun receiving errant text and picture messages. who knows from whence they came??? well, i'm guessing the west side, as it's a 310 area code, but still. that could be anywhere.

the ones on saturdays are quickly becoming my favorite though, because that's when my newest fat-fingered friend incorrectly punches in his/her friend's number, but instead sends the pictures to me. without explanation.

i'm starting a collection. so far i have brown with brown, black, and brown with white. what? it's a good start.

i think the first one might be named leroy.

*sorry uccellina and uccellina's husband.

it's funny 'cause it's true

2006-08-08T13:32:00.000-07:00

natalie dee and miss kendra starring in:

poop free since 2003!

you want my job

2006-08-03T15:54:00.000-07:00

either i've traveled back in time and am magically posting via the power of gnomes on a prehistoric interweb, or this is just what i wore to work last friday.

where i

~drank wine coolers from a kiddie pool filled with ice
~did jell-o shots
~ ate burgers and chips and chicken with veggies
~watched other people eat fried brie (is this good? they liked it. it seemed weird to me. (that might be because i'm allergic to cheese and also not a fan of fried unless it involves carbohydrates))
~competed in a trivia contest wherein one of the answers was quite gloriously "cory feldman"
~got serenaded
~was given gorgeous jewelry and a rubiks cube for my trouble.

here is a close up, so you can see my bitchin eye makeup and hair doodad.

also, someone needs to call doc brown, hop in the delorean, and get my parents back together, as i seem to be disappearing, eyebrow first.

quick! hurry! before i am no longer able to properly perform a pivotal character in my one woman show!

reasons # 38 and 109

2006-07-31T13:01:00.000-07:00

why my new job rules:

#38: basket of portable fruits! for me to eat from! everyday! mmmm, delicious.

#39: the bathroom handsoap (and thus my hands) smells of pina colada.

i posted at nick's house

2006-07-28T12:06:00.000-07:00

go there to see my new drawing. i don't have ms paint at work now, so i'm exploring illustrator. things are going to get interesting.

nick's house in the middle of nick's street!

conspiracy!

2006-07-26T13:34:00.000-07:00

i believe that miss universe 2006 should be summarily disqualified based on the following evidence:

exhibit a: person of interest

exhibit b: potentially the same person of interest
(though clearly pre-mystic tan)

it is apparent that either

(a) through voodoo magic and trickery she has stolen michael jackson's face,
(b) michael has not only become a woman, but successfully entered and won a pageant, thereby beginning a new career, or
(c) he has given up on trying to alter his own looks, and is now slowly working his way through the general population.

any of these possibilities is cause for alarm. i am puzzled as to how this was allowed to occur. wasn't any one paying attention??? for shame, the donald. for shame.

too bad, so sad UPDATED

2006-07-24T23:31:00.000-07:00

we interrupt your regularly scheduled reading to bring you sad news. yesterday, at approximately 10 o’clock pm, two members of the * golden state * family perished. it was quite unexpected, but already they have made a name for themselves in local mythology, taking their rightful place among the gods. some might say their end was a result of the heat, some just believe that they lost their will to live. i’ve heard it said that they rode off into a golden sunset, never to be seen again. either way, they’re gone.

they were instrumental in the efforts i made to love myself, tirelessly working from the day we met to make me feel beautiful. they were a shining beacon in the night, a secret pride. were it not for their obvious inability to remain, i would have loved them until the day i died.

we had some good times together, the three of us. in fact, i thought we’d get to see forever, but forever’s gone away. at least i’ll take with me the memories to be my sunshine after the rain. it’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

goodbye, sweet nipple rings. goodbye. had you ever healed completely (even once, at any point in these many years) and not given me reason to believe my breasts might abscess and rot off, we would be buried together, to spend an eternity as titanium coated steel and skeletal remains anywhere but in a jewish cemetery.

i invite you to use this opportunity to share your fondest memories of the departed with the many others who are so deeply grieving.

*UPDATE* well, it was just too much. i put the little fuckers back in. i wasn't ready! they were too young to die!

i'm thinking maybe better quality jewelry will end the irritation. i've had decent luck with titanium, but most titanium is just a coating. once the coating is gone, so is the relief. next phase: gold. white, not yellow.

except $221 for one golden nipple ring? that's highway robbery! stick em up!

and to appease the masses, here is a picture of not my boobs(NSFW) that i snagged from the interweb.

note: my boobs are bigger, my piercings horizontal. also i try not to have my girls be on the first page of results on google.