"You look kind of retarded... like cute retarded!"
Despite what I thought last night, that is not a compliment.
Noted.
That one is going in the same file as "So on a scale of one to ten... ten being the highest... how much do you want to make out with me right now?"
Overflowing game.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Edgar Allen Pole, My Goth Strip Club Name
Halloween is certainly upon us.
I can always tell when Halloween is coming because the calendar says so, but also because every year, the week before Halloween is so fucking cold I want to stab my face off. I have cleverly arranged my furniture (cardboard boxes) so that they block every single heat vent in my room. Most people don't know this about me, but I'm 25% Wampa. I think my Grandma was fucking around with some drugs and ended up throwing down with some reptocarnivores, don't judge. She was a very desirable ho and sometimes you wake up covered in snow next to a bloody furry dude with yellow eyes. It's happened to me at least twice. If anyone knows my Mom, you know it's a plausable story. I'd compare her to a Wampa or the Viking from those Snickers commercials (the "NOOOOO, YESSSSS" commerical).
Anyway, she may have single handedly pushed a car out of a ditch in the middle of January, but that's not the point.
The point is that because I try to re-create a somewhat Hothlike climate in my room and because I am not full blooded Wampa, I get cold. And because I am 25% douche bag, I own a black turtleneck or four, and every so often I wear them to work (only when I don't think I'll see anyone I know). This, coupled with my black glasses, makes me look like a "poet", according to a few customers. Today a guy came in and said "Damn girl, you look like Edgar Allen Pole!" I was a little bummed, but it's better than being told you look like Edgar Winter. So I said "Edgar Allen Poe?" and he said "Nahhh, Pole, mannn.... The Raven!" So I just agreed that I looked like Edgar Allen Pole. Then I was thinking about how I'd like to kill myself because of my job and the fact that I wore berets for awhile in the late 90s (contain your boner, if you can), when the same guy said "I always knew you was spooky!"
So I'm just sitting here being spooky, but I'm for sure not a poet. In fact, I was recently going through some boxes in my basement, and I came across a book of poetry I wrote when I was fifteen. A lot of burning/bleeding/ripping out heart imagery. This was coupled with my awesome drawings of the aforementioned scenes and some sparkly Smurf stickers. One page was actually tear-stained! I was awesome and had lots of friends. This guy Shawn dumped me and it really lit a creative fire under my ass, I guess.
Parents are shitty because they tell their kids not to do drugs or have sex, when they really should be telling their adolescent idiot children never to write poetry. Seriously! I remember that Shawn guy writing me poems and me writing him poems, it was a big mess. They were all like "As we walk over the causeway, my strange concomitant... etc." I don't remember specifics of the poems, but I do remember using the word causeway for sure. In fact, every time someone talks about a bridge I think of the word causeway. Just yesterday, my friend Dave told me he was stuck on a bridge and it reminded me of my shitty poetry and the use of the word 'Causeway'. That word will forever fill me with embarassment! Bridges see me coming and send "Oh hey, a causewayyy you fucking douche baggggg" vibes. Maybe I'll dig out the poetry and post it on here. It was really fucking bad.
I don't even like poetry. I know that totally goes against the awesome look I've whipped up for myself today, but I can't really think of poems that I like. I know some people who still write poetry, and it's still bad! Painful to read. Once a slam poetry session happened in the living room of my old house. It was a moment in which I wanted to skin myself. Please never write me a poem, if you were thinking about it.
Back to Halloween- I think I got out of most of the costume party invitations that were issued to me this year, which is really great because I'm the worst with costumes. I think my main problems occur and the intersection of me being a female and me not wanting to dress like a "slutty (noun)". I really wanted to be Han Solo but I slacked so now there's no time. Beyond that amazing costume, the only costumes I thought of were "Suicidal Wall Street Executive" which takes too much explanation (Trust me on this one: I was Black Tuesday a few years ago it was a failure), and "Hitler Youth". I was going to wear my 3x Snoops, put my hair in neat pigtails then draw on a little Hitler 'stache and drink whiskey out of a baby bottle. Neither one of those costumes are good and I don't want to be a sexy whatever so I think I lose. I am sort of excited to see the sexy costumes though, because every year they get better. I think I saw a sexy garlic press the other day! Sexy bowl, sexy plate, sexy funnel, etc. I don't know, I hate costumes.
I can always tell when Halloween is coming because the calendar says so, but also because every year, the week before Halloween is so fucking cold I want to stab my face off. I have cleverly arranged my furniture (cardboard boxes) so that they block every single heat vent in my room. Most people don't know this about me, but I'm 25% Wampa. I think my Grandma was fucking around with some drugs and ended up throwing down with some reptocarnivores, don't judge. She was a very desirable ho and sometimes you wake up covered in snow next to a bloody furry dude with yellow eyes. It's happened to me at least twice. If anyone knows my Mom, you know it's a plausable story. I'd compare her to a Wampa or the Viking from those Snickers commercials (the "NOOOOO, YESSSSS" commerical).
Anyway, she may have single handedly pushed a car out of a ditch in the middle of January, but that's not the point.
The point is that because I try to re-create a somewhat Hothlike climate in my room and because I am not full blooded Wampa, I get cold. And because I am 25% douche bag, I own a black turtleneck or four, and every so often I wear them to work (only when I don't think I'll see anyone I know). This, coupled with my black glasses, makes me look like a "poet", according to a few customers. Today a guy came in and said "Damn girl, you look like Edgar Allen Pole!" I was a little bummed, but it's better than being told you look like Edgar Winter. So I said "Edgar Allen Poe?" and he said "Nahhh, Pole, mannn.... The Raven!" So I just agreed that I looked like Edgar Allen Pole. Then I was thinking about how I'd like to kill myself because of my job and the fact that I wore berets for awhile in the late 90s (contain your boner, if you can), when the same guy said "I always knew you was spooky!"
So I'm just sitting here being spooky, but I'm for sure not a poet. In fact, I was recently going through some boxes in my basement, and I came across a book of poetry I wrote when I was fifteen. A lot of burning/bleeding/ripping out heart imagery. This was coupled with my awesome drawings of the aforementioned scenes and some sparkly Smurf stickers. One page was actually tear-stained! I was awesome and had lots of friends. This guy Shawn dumped me and it really lit a creative fire under my ass, I guess.
Parents are shitty because they tell their kids not to do drugs or have sex, when they really should be telling their adolescent idiot children never to write poetry. Seriously! I remember that Shawn guy writing me poems and me writing him poems, it was a big mess. They were all like "As we walk over the causeway, my strange concomitant... etc." I don't remember specifics of the poems, but I do remember using the word causeway for sure. In fact, every time someone talks about a bridge I think of the word causeway. Just yesterday, my friend Dave told me he was stuck on a bridge and it reminded me of my shitty poetry and the use of the word 'Causeway'. That word will forever fill me with embarassment! Bridges see me coming and send "Oh hey, a causewayyy you fucking douche baggggg" vibes. Maybe I'll dig out the poetry and post it on here. It was really fucking bad.
I don't even like poetry. I know that totally goes against the awesome look I've whipped up for myself today, but I can't really think of poems that I like. I know some people who still write poetry, and it's still bad! Painful to read. Once a slam poetry session happened in the living room of my old house. It was a moment in which I wanted to skin myself. Please never write me a poem, if you were thinking about it.
Back to Halloween- I think I got out of most of the costume party invitations that were issued to me this year, which is really great because I'm the worst with costumes. I think my main problems occur and the intersection of me being a female and me not wanting to dress like a "slutty (noun)". I really wanted to be Han Solo but I slacked so now there's no time. Beyond that amazing costume, the only costumes I thought of were "Suicidal Wall Street Executive" which takes too much explanation (Trust me on this one: I was Black Tuesday a few years ago it was a failure), and "Hitler Youth". I was going to wear my 3x Snoops, put my hair in neat pigtails then draw on a little Hitler 'stache and drink whiskey out of a baby bottle. Neither one of those costumes are good and I don't want to be a sexy whatever so I think I lose. I am sort of excited to see the sexy costumes though, because every year they get better. I think I saw a sexy garlic press the other day! Sexy bowl, sexy plate, sexy funnel, etc. I don't know, I hate costumes.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Paralyzing Fear
I'm going to throw this out there: Why is it that there are no scary movies anymore, but I can casually browse the internet and find things that make me pee my pants and sleep with the covers over my head at night?
If I spend ten bucks on a movie, I'm subjected to people being loud and messy (which I hate) on top of a Powerman 5000 soundtrack (which I pretend to hate in order to retain friends). On the other hand, if I'm casually browsing the internet I spend very little money and come across things like a severed puppy head kept alive by science. In fact, I found a video of Sergei Bryukhonenko shining a flashlight into the responsive eyes of a disembodied fuzzicle beast, a floating puppy head- something with no body that could lick my fucking face! I'd post it, but the last time I did that several people deleted me on Myspace. I use the number of friends I have on Myspace as a strict measure of self-worth, so it was devastating to my psyche and caused me to eat an entire XL Explorer Pizza from Papa John's in seven minutes and wear nothing but Triple X Snoopy pants for a few days (Official name: 3x Snoops). Fortunately, I was able to add some frisky grandpas looking for a young sloth like myself and now I'm back to wearing jeans and blowing senior citizens. I'm telling you, if it weren't for the internet and baby boomers my sex life would be dead. Anyway!
Ever the cautious young lady, I kept the Snoops on reserve, and that's a very good thing, because today I found out about female masking coupled with some brutal visual evidence that will make your life fall off. "Life fall off" is a new feeling that I experienced while watching the videos.
Now, I usually hate it when people send me videos and I rarely ever watch them unless they are accompained by some sort of evidence that the video is worth watching. I tried to find a good picture of female masking, but for some reason when I did a Google image search all that came up were some Persian cats with angel wings. Although I did hate that, it wasn't as horrid as the female masking.
According to Wikipedia, Female Masking "is a sub-form of cross-dressing that involves, in addition to the wearing of women's clothing, a mask (usually made from latex) that gives a pseudo-real representation of a female face." I'm all for trannies, but this still makes me want to sew myself into a pillowcase and roll off a cliff.
I guess you're just going to have to take my word on how fucked up this is, and see for yourself.
Check out the world of Julie Masking, put a diaper on first if you know what's good for you.
http://www.youtube.com/user/JuliesMovies
If I spend ten bucks on a movie, I'm subjected to people being loud and messy (which I hate) on top of a Powerman 5000 soundtrack (which I pretend to hate in order to retain friends). On the other hand, if I'm casually browsing the internet I spend very little money and come across things like a severed puppy head kept alive by science. In fact, I found a video of Sergei Bryukhonenko shining a flashlight into the responsive eyes of a disembodied fuzzicle beast, a floating puppy head- something with no body that could lick my fucking face! I'd post it, but the last time I did that several people deleted me on Myspace. I use the number of friends I have on Myspace as a strict measure of self-worth, so it was devastating to my psyche and caused me to eat an entire XL Explorer Pizza from Papa John's in seven minutes and wear nothing but Triple X Snoopy pants for a few days (Official name: 3x Snoops). Fortunately, I was able to add some frisky grandpas looking for a young sloth like myself and now I'm back to wearing jeans and blowing senior citizens. I'm telling you, if it weren't for the internet and baby boomers my sex life would be dead. Anyway!
Ever the cautious young lady, I kept the Snoops on reserve, and that's a very good thing, because today I found out about female masking coupled with some brutal visual evidence that will make your life fall off. "Life fall off" is a new feeling that I experienced while watching the videos.
Now, I usually hate it when people send me videos and I rarely ever watch them unless they are accompained by some sort of evidence that the video is worth watching. I tried to find a good picture of female masking, but for some reason when I did a Google image search all that came up were some Persian cats with angel wings. Although I did hate that, it wasn't as horrid as the female masking.
According to Wikipedia, Female Masking "is a sub-form of cross-dressing that involves, in addition to the wearing of women's clothing, a mask (usually made from latex) that gives a pseudo-real representation of a female face." I'm all for trannies, but this still makes me want to sew myself into a pillowcase and roll off a cliff.
I guess you're just going to have to take my word on how fucked up this is, and see for yourself.
Check out the world of Julie Masking, put a diaper on first if you know what's good for you.
http://www.youtube.com/user/JuliesMovies
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