Monday, September 29, 2008
Stand Up
And although this situation could lead us into a recession so deep that we end up in a depresion unseen by current generations of people, I feel like there is something more important here. Doesn't congress realize how this is affecting ME? I think they should be a little less selfish and think of me for a change. In fact I think as a nation we would be a whole lot better off if everyone just thought about my feelings for a change, Goddamnit. I will not stand for a world that doesn't think about me once in a while. I just hope that come November someone will stand up for change. That someone will stand up for what they believe in, and vote for what they think is right. I hope that someone does something right, for a change. I'm tired of living in uncertainty. But I am certain that it is time for something different.
I'm voting for Obama.
Also I was mostly kidding about America thinking of me once in a while, they should be thinking of me ALL OF THE TIME.
Monday, September 22, 2008
I Wrote This Two Years Ago (Can You Even Deal?)
A different world. A different life, in a different time. A world where well dressed people make polite conversation, whilst concealing their snide remarks. A Victorian age, when women wore petticoats and men had finely combed mustaches. A world where coffee was served every day at the same time. Where soft, buttery pastries were passed around on silver trays. The women gently fanning themselves in the Summer heat, the sunlight pouring through the windows and glinting off every surface. A slight sheen of sweat on their foreheads, their dewy skin looking less like porcelain with every unimaginably warm sip. Then men sit and talk about business, while the women talk about the men. And everyone is talking, and everyone is talking about everyone else. It's a dangerous world to live in I'd imagine. With just the wrong words spoken, reputations are ruined, fortunes are lost, families fall apart.
I feel like I'm getting farther away from it now. It's a world I don't belong in, and I know that. But it's not that much different from my own. With just a few wrong words, you can easily ruin a family. You can break the delicate bonds of friendship and trust with just a few slip ups. It doesn't take much for me at least. So I ruin my relationships like a badly worded bull in a china shop. And as I realize this, the porcelain cup falls from my hands and hits the floor. It shatters into a million little pieces. They sparkle, and glitter over the granite floors. They cling to my hands as I try to pick up the pieces. And I can't help it, and I can't change it. And I can't move to that world of polite conversation, and I can't say I'm sorry enough. Not because I don't know what to say, I've just run out of words. I have completely run out of words.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
The Postarita List
See the Mona Lisa
Start going to church on a regular basis instead of only on holidays
Put my feet in every ocean
Spend a month in France
Attempt to relearn basic French
Adopt a child
Become a foster parent
See a Broadway musical
Meet Ms. Spears
Get into People magazine one way or another
Drink a latte from the original Starbucks
Visit a vineyard
Be the best man in someone’s wedding
Be a Godfather
Write a novel
Submit a piece to either GQ, Esquire, or Details
Have a dirty water hot dog in New York
Write a truly amazing song
Learn to play the guitar
Learn something beyond playing scales on the piano
To sing the national anthem at a sporting event, whether they want me to or not
Give a eulogy
Buy a really nice, vintage camera
Get married in a cathedral
Audition for a play
Read the Bible, no matter how much it bores me
Eventually get down to one cuss word a day, and even that in only dire circumstances.
Attend a masquerade ball
Be a chairman for a charity
Donate 10% of my salary to Aids and Cancer related charities
Donate blood on a regular basis
Finish school
Go to Mardi Gras in New Orleans
Move out of Louisiana
Go and visit Bryant at Northwestern before he moves away
Write a screenplay
Attend the Grammys
See Kathy Griffin live
Take a ballroom dancing class
Buy the perfect suit
Have a perfect Body Mass Index
Play “Dirty” by Christina Aguilera at my wedding reception
Have a daughter, name her Emma
Have a son, name him Gabriel
Have a life altering conversation with a complete stranger
Go back to Graceland, and this time take notes
Take a cooking class
Find a way to get into Pink’s cell phone
Join an adult choir when I feel like an actual adult
Do something completely irrational and out of character for once
Drink an entire bottle of champagne by myself
Have a cocktail with an old friend in an upscale bar in Manhattan
Own a loft apartment
Own a miniature Pomeranian named Brisket
Sing at someone else’s wedding
Have someone sing to me
If I accidentally happen to do one, I'll let you know.
Monday, September 08, 2008
It's Nothing But My Way
Friday, September 05, 2008
Home Sweet Lake Charles
Friday, August 29, 2008
Smaller Bites
About a week ago, I broke my glasses and instead of going to the Eye Doctor because he's approximately four hundred years old and makes me nervous when he brings his arthritic hands near my eyeballs. Instead I took the lazy route, and just went out and bought the first pair I could find that that fit my current lenses. Now I'm stuck with a pair that very closely resemble Tina Fey's circa 1999. Also a little bit of Lisa Loeb. It's not a good look let me tell you.
I've recently spent a very confusing forty five minutes of my life looking for my Grandmother's teeth. Turns out she flushed them down the toilet. And although she very much tried to persuade me to take apart the toilet to retrieve them, I had to sadly explain to her that they were now far gone into the septic system. Now they're being shit upon by a turtle in some far away ditch. This kind of made me sad.
I have spent far too much time and energy reading articles on Wikipedia. If you know me even a little you'd know that I soak up pointless information just for fun. I revel in knowing completely inane trivia about movies, and actors and singers for absolutely no reason at all. I'll pretty much read anything if it's sits still long enough. I think this may be my one and only weakness.
I've been trying to pack for the upcoming HURRICANE EVACUATIONPALOOZA 2008. And I can't bring myself to focus for more than five minutes at a time. Every time I try to find an important paper, or a photo I get lost in the years of Jordan detritus that clutter my room. For instance I found my old Nintendo system and then I had to play it for two hours. I could barely control myself. And when I'm not busy playing 1980s video games I'm finding remnants of past friendships and people long gone. I'm finally realizing that you cant' always run away from these things. You can throw away pictures, and old letters, and birthday cards and gifts but there will always be something that remains. You can never truly do away with anything or anyone. It's sadmaking.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Possible Name Change
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Completely Unreleated Bigfoot Post 2
Him: Of course there are real lesbians. What about (name omitted) or Rosie O' Donnell? She's a real lesbian.
Me: I think you're making a better case for a bigfoot than a lesbian there.
Bigfoot Post One
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
It's Too Late To Apologize
Sunday, August 10, 2008
We're Blessed and Hung Low Like Bernie Mac
Also, I know I'm going to hell for using a quote from a Christina Aguilera song as my title. Or if not hell, at the very least I'll be reincarnated as a red headed lesbian named Twizzler. And if that happens, I'll know that I earned it.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Hot Shit of the Month August 2008
Josh Hoge_Stay Away
I don't know who this guy is, but this song is amazing. He has this guttural kind of falsetto that I would kill for. Just Play it once, and see if you can stop yourself from playing it nineteen hundred times in a row.
Lady GaGa_Just Dance
I discovered this song a few months ago, but it's just now picking up airplay. It is soon to be the song that I loved like "I Kissed A Girl" by Katy Perry before everyone started playing it, and talking about it nonstop. This is just as catchy as that one though, except with fewer lesbian references. Usually fewer lesbian references is a bad thing, but in this case I don't mind so much.
The Pipettes_Pull Shapes
I've got to be completely honest I have no fucking clue what this song is about, but I don't care. The Pipettes have this awesome retro feel to them. Whenever I listen to it, all I can imagine is a 1960's pool party, with awkward boy/girl dances around the pool and someones father grilling hot dogs on the barbecue. It's a good feeling.
The Saturdays_What Am I Gonna Do?
This is some random girl group from the U.K. I don't' really know much about them except for this song is oddly catchy to me. Check it out, and see for yourself.
Regina Spektor_Samson
I think I've probably put this song on one of my lists before but I just recently rediscovered it. It is so achingly beautiful, and soft. It makes me hurt in ways I can't explain. Gives me the same feelings that I get whenever I read "To Kill a Mockingbird" and "Looking for Alaska"
Gym Class Heroes_Cookie Jar
The best song about getting caught cheating since "It Wasn't Me" by Shaggy back in the nineties. I love hearing about people fucking around and getting caught.
Solange_I Decided
This song is by Beyonce's sister, who I believe held the title of assistant manager at Burger King before her sister pulled some strings and got her a record deal. Nonetheless, she comes off even more cocky and self assured than her older pussy slinging sister. I pretty much love it.
I will add links to download all of these as I find them.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
V is for Vallerie and Virginity
Though tonight in between Carnie and Valleie was a heartwarming puff piece detailing Hannah Montana star Miley Cyrus singing a "Pledge of Purity" promising to remain a virgin until marriage. She then detailed how important she thought it was as a role model to young girls, to remain a virgin until marriage. Let me just take a moment to say...what? Since when is that what we've ever wanted from our Pop Stars? Am I completely mistaken in saying that we as Americans want them to pretend to be virgins but in reality be complete whores? We want them to be on the cover of Seventeen, and then a week later flash their peesh to the world. (Well maybe that's not the case for Miley seeing as how that would be considered kiddie porn.) But for the most part, that's what we've always wanted isn't it? Maybe it's just me. Forget I even said anything on the matter.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Family Interaction
She lays on her bed, sheets wrapped in her lilac comforter. Her face is hidden though a few stands of dark brown hair peek out from the top. I hear her whimper softly, as I enter her room. She's refusing to go, she says in a muffled whisper. She refuses to do the things that they want of her. She refuses to see the people that she has tried so far to distance herself from. She doesn't care if she's doing it for someone else even if that someone else is her mother. It doesn't matter because she is too strong willed and defiant to be talked into anything that she doesn't want. She is steady, and strong but she's slowly cracking I can tell. I sit down on the bed beside her and pull the sheets back. She tells me that they lied to her, they said she'd never have to see them if that's what she wanted. They lied to her, and she can't forgive it. She can't see those people who said all of those things, ever again. She's too proud, she's too stubborn, and I know all of this. But I also know that she's just like her big brother, and she's about to break. Because we can only stay strong for a small amount of time. Eventually we're going to give in, and go out and face the things that we don't want to come within a hundred yards of. Not because we want to, not because anyone forces our hands, but because deep down we're good people. And as good people, we know it's the right thing to do. I tell her to just get up, and go get dressed so we can get it over with. She stalls for a few more minutes and eventually agrees. And as she's getting up to close the door behind me so that she can get dressed she looks me right in the eye and says "I hope you know, I'm going to be a total bitch for the rest of the day." But she didn't have to tell me, I already knew.
Scene Two
We walk into their small two story town house, a house that has seen it's fair share of shoddy repair work, and a total of sixty three ceramic statuettes in just the bottom floor alone. She moves to hug us, and we look to the floor for answers, as our hands move to our pockets. We've come because it's the right thing to do, but we're not bowing down. That's not how we do things. It never has been, we can't help ourselves. She looks awkwardly at us, and we stumble into the living room, and quickly take a seat on the sofa. He looks different than the last time we saw him four or five years ago. His face paler, his formerly large framed body, has turned frail looking. We are all seated, the TV is blaring in the foreground. Apparently Chevy Chase is trying to take his family on a vacation, and hilarity is ensuing. I can't take it all in. The ceramic angels, and the his pale face, and most of all Chevy Chase. I can't deal with it all at once, I could probably handle it all separately but not at the same time. It is too much, and yet it is so little. He is sick, and that's the only reason we came, and that makes me sad even though I know the reasoning behind it. She's sick too, but in a completely different way. A manipulative, and self serving kind of way. The kind of way that you never expect a grandmother to be. But that's the hand we were dealt. It's not without it's flaws, but they live their lives and we live ours. We go along our own separate ways every single day of our lives. And we only stop by when someone is dying. And he is dying, much like the fragile relationship between us died a few years ago. It suddenly strikes me between the awkward conversation, how little I care. I really don't care if he's sick. And it makes me a bad person, I know. But I really don't, it means so little to me that I am surprised. I am surprised that I could ever turn my back on someone, but I have, and I did. And, maybe I'm sick too.
Scene Three
We're a different kind of family now, the kind that we choose to be around. The kind that let me play with their two year old daughter, and their Pitt Bull puppy. And insist that I take home some movies to watch. The kind that tell me about the time they walked into our aunt's house and saw not only her snatch but also her vibrator. The kind of family who doesn't judge me for falling off my chair from laughing when they told me that last part. The kind of family that asks me for a cigarette and just sits outside with me while we smoke. The kind who talks about nothing, and everything at the same time. Between filing for bankruptcy and how all of us are guilty of watching Hannah Montana. And it's good to know that not all family members are basically just strangers that you happen to be related. Some family members are the kind of people that you'd probably want to be friends with anyway if they were just a bunch of randoms. And that's comforting. I think I'll go watch those movies now.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Frivolous
Friday, July 18, 2008
I Love Gifts
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Fancy May Have Been Her Name
Friday, July 11, 2008
Barry Manilow Lyrics Go Here
I have been getting my hair cut at the exact same place since I was five years old. Apparently when I was that age the only person who could get me to sit still long enough to cut my hair was a particular woman at this particular establishment. I say woman, because I'm not exactly sure of the proper term for someone who cuts hair for a living. I could say 'hair cutter' since that is essentially their job but that doesn't seem nearly regal enough. And I can't stand the word 'cosmetician' because for some reason it conjures up images of a fussy old lady helping a drag queen getting ready for her big show. You know, hands filled with q tips, and glitter eye shadow, and duct tape to help him tuck it in. And that really doesn't do it for me, at all. I also don't like the word beautician because I have never, nor will I ever 'get my hair done' it's just a cut let's not glorify it. No one comes out of the salon looking more beautiful. They just come out looking worse for wear, and usually covered in their own hair. Let's not turn it into something that it's not okay? But anyways I digress.
I veered from the normal plan of going to my normal place because I'm adventurous as long as there's no possibility of any risk of loss of blood, vision, or any Phil Collins playing inside of the establishment. I think those are reasonable rules to have. So I go to the mall today, and decide to get a trim. I don't have an appointment, but they say they can take me anyways. As I detail to the woman exactly what I want because I am very particular she nods like she's heard it all before. Her own hair has been dyed so many times the ends are frayed. What's evens hocking is that her eyebrows are dyed the exact shade as her highlights. Not a shade darker, nor lighter but the exact same color. I swear it looks as if they have streaks in them too. It's very distracting. So I sit in the chair, and she informs me that her name is Mandy. I don't know why she even bothers, I highly doubt I'll be needing her name throughout the course of the procedure. Although for some reason, I trusted Mandy. If she did that much experimenting on her own hair I was surely in good hands. She was experienced I could tell. Who knows, me and Mandy might have even become great friends after this meeting. I could just tell that my follicles were in such good care, that we would clearly have a lot to talk about afterwards at Starbucks over lattes and cigarettes.
She begins to pantomime cutting my hair behind my head. Very rarely do I actually feel scissors making any contact with any of my actual hair. After about five minutes of this very precise miming she takes off my apron, puts away her scissors and informs me that she has an appointment and that my total is twenty five dollars. At this point my glasses are off and I can't see anything. I reach into my wallet and pull out the appropriate amount of currency. I pay her, and leave in a hurry. I walk to my car, and look in the mirror and find myself looking back the exact way I was before my trip to the mall. It looked as if my hair hadn't even been touched. At this point my love affair with Mandy was over. I trusted you Mandy, and you did this to me? How dare you, after all I had invested in our relationship? It was very disheartening, especially since I tipped the bitch ten dollars. This is what I get for being adventurous, and nice. I get fucked almost every time. So after attempting to do something new, I ended up going back to that old gallery of hair cutting and pay a cheap ten dollars to get what was promised to me in the first place.
So the moral of our story is never try anything new, you will eventually end up to regret it. Also, never trust anyone by the name of Mandy.