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Tuesday, January 31, 2006
I Lied Again! This is Not a Real Post
I have the same b-day as Adam Ant and Roseanne. It makes too much sense, if you think about it.. | Monday, January 30, 2006 God Damn Hipsters There's this thing at a bar in Wicker Park called honky tonk bingo night. It's just what it sounds like. Bingo with live music from a country band. Funny thing is, those ironic t-shirt wearing weenies would get beat to a tattooed pulp if they ever showed their thick black glasses in a real cowboy bar. I promise I'll write a real post, soon. | Saturday, January 28, 2006 Closure I did what I had to. | Thursday, January 26, 2006 Glasses! The world is less blurry now and I no longer have an excuse to hit things with my car.  Thin Pair  Thick Pair My digital camera sucks. If you buy me a new one, I'll send you 82 naked pictures. | Tuesday, January 24, 2006 I HATE WORK *sob* It makes me want to drink bleach. | Sunday, January 22, 2006 Fortune Found, Sans Cookie Don't put off tomorrow what can be enjoyed today. =) | Friday, January 20, 2006 More Victims of Venus Retrograde The Babylonians called Venus the double-phased Ishtar -- the morning star of war and the evening star of love. Last night I devoured a heaping bowl of chocolate swirl ice cream. Why does ice cream = pain for me? What horrible crime in a did I commit in a past life to be given such a defective body in this life? A stomach that can't handle ice cream paired with a tongue that finds it sooo delicious. ArghghhH! But the real reason I'm up at the unholy hour of 9am is the frantic pleading that woke me from the kitchen. "Please, please.. I want you part of my life. Don't leave me. I can't be without you. We can work on this. Please? Please? PLEASE? I love you! *sob*" Ew. It was my dad's girlfriend begging him to stay with her. I've sounded like that, recently. I hereby vow never to sound like that again. A good woman should not have to beg. | Thursday, January 19, 2006 Okay I Lied I'll keep posting even though my internet is infected. I'll tell you about my dream last night. So I'm on a field trip with kids from school. We're staying in a run-down mansion, in a creepy part of some unfamiliar city. Glenn Danzig is our special guest. He's in the kitchen talking to this boy I know. Danzig is not wearing a shirt. I scamper into the kitchen and proceed to color his nipples red with a tube of lipstick. He laughs and throws me over his shoulder, then spins me around and around, making growling noises. Whee! In the living room, there's a movie on TV. A nature flick, underwater and YES! THERE ARE DOLPHINS ON THE SCREEN! A 3-some of dolphins, one boy dolphin is fucking a girl dolphin, while the girl dolphin is sucking another boy dolphin's wiggly dong. Then my sister wakes me up and hands me an envelope. It's money! My gramma sent me money! Because I graduated college. Yay! | Wednesday, January 18, 2006 My Computer Has More Viruses Than I Do!  And we all know, I have a LOT! I am a tropical vacation resort for bronchitis, chlamydia, rabies, ebola, and TERRIFIC crusting, oozing skin rashes. My computer is just like me! Trojans, worms (like my cat), spybots, syphillis. I can't be on a webpage for more than 2 seconds without 850 pop up ads. As I'm typing this, my browser keeps flipping over to some shit that says I've won a FREE PINK MOTOROLA RAZR! I got some virus removal software, but it didn't do much more than show me a list of file names. c:/windows/program files/kjefniergnpweugn.exe That list of file names is very nice, but how do I get rid of them? So I might not be posting for a while. Until I find a good virus remover or a new computer. (ha!) Don't miss me too much.. There are other blogs in the sea. | Sunday, January 15, 2006 Sabrina There used to be this girl, Sabrina. She's dead now. But we'll get to that later. I was friends with her, even though she was fucking obnoxious. Always whining and crying over something. Guys would get drunk and fuck her by mistake and she'd fall deep-creepy in love with them, then call me every night sobbing about how the guy didn't find it romantic when she showed up at his door at 2am, in her dirty pink coat like a tossed-out cat. I'm embarrassed to admit this since she's well, dead but we used to call her Sweaty Betty. Sabrina was fat, like 300 pounds. And she had that fat people smell since she couldn't exactly reach her ass to wash it clean. You know the smell. Like poo and cheddar. My friend Anny used to have spaghetti night, every Thursday. She'd make a big, industrial sized pot of spaghetti and invite all our friends: Andrea, Johnny, Tom and Tina, Kelly and Drug-Dealer Nick. And of course, Sabrina. We'd eat until we were full and there'd still be half a pot of noodles left. Sabrina would guzzle the rest down by herself. Half an industrial sized pot full of noodles. Drug-Dealer Nick would always say, "Sweaty Betty loves her spaghetti!" It was almost like we kept Sabrina around as a standing joke. Then all the sudden, she lost like 80 pounds in 2 months. She was normal sized. Guys were calling her back. She was asking to borrow my clothes. I've asked doctors, I've asked nurses, I've asked pharmacists and all of them say it's impossible to do that naturally. Here, look at this:
The great thing about humans is we're very stretchy. All our bones and organs stretch and grow. What happens with gastric bypass is that if you keep up your gluttonous eating habits, your stomach will stretch back to its regular size. Sabrina wasn't stretchy enough. One night, after ingesting 15 platefuls of lasagna, her little stomach ripped open and poisoned her body with half-digested meatballs and marinara. With no stomach, there's no way to hold food, right? So Sabrina died of starvation. Of course the crew was all there at her funeral, saying how cool she was and that they were sorry for calling her Sweaty Betty, though we all knew deep down she'd been a whining harpy who smelled bad. And of course the casket was closed, but still I pretended I could see through the wooden lid, see her bones and guts, dried out in a floppy bag of stretched out skin.
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xaos rains! | Friday, January 13, 2006 The Business of Publishing Wednesday- Rejection: Dear Allison,Friday- Acceptance!: Congratulations, Allison, we're excited to publish your story, "Sabrina," in the 2006 Story Week Reader! *glee!* | Thursday, January 12, 2006 In the morning we feel better. |
It's fucking FREEZING outside and I hate you all.  Pictured: Bud the cat. In the sink. In other news, I've been incredibly reclusive, as of late. Why? Because like I said, I hate you all. Don't take it personally. After being carried through my final semester of college by some odd friendly-smiley wind, I have sunk back into the surly self who mopes beneath the happy-jokey-dancy me. I've been avoiding my friends. My recent romantic/sexual encounters have failed to warm my heart (venus is in retrograde). Nobody did anything to piss me off. This is just how I get mid-winter. I personify the cold and start to think it'll never end.. But it will. Catch me in May. I'll love you then. | Tuesday, January 10, 2006 my housreeksof gas.. I don't knowhato do!!>!1 | Monday, January 09, 2006
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So nobody thinks a pillow that says Heavy Petting Zone (H.P.Z.) is the least bit scary?? Well, it fucking terrified me. So bad that I haven't left the house in days. Now you all have to sit through a poem. A poem about shoes. 50 shoes in the doorway of 25 ghostly feet So tired of thinking pretty things of talking butt sex- Sick stalactite tunnel loss of dreaming 25 ghostly feet will lie and say they're walking, dancing with Ganesh upon your ribs A glockenspiel Hail the ceremonial turnip- Cast a bloody soup and serve with lube and saltene crackers Collect the shoes! And shimmy like a biped 25 ghostly feet can't steal 50 shoes- They're lacking pockets, glockenspiel ribs | Friday, January 06, 2006 A Disturbing Pillow Uhh.. think I'll sit somewhere else..  It leads to trouble.. and seat wetting. |
Day Job Behind you, a 400 pound woman sings, "Turn the Beat Around." The reason the drain is clogged: too many tampons. Have a great weekend. Thank you for calling. You're more than welcome, sir. Goodbye. You bored over there? Hey, remember the time the boss started dancing? Slow night. Turn off the coffee pot. Golden girls! So what's your baby's name? What's your apartment number on Thanksgiving day? Shut up. You notice the difference in those cookies? Shut up, Delila. I think you're wrong. Achoo! Where the hell did that come from? Okay, Woody Woodpecker. Whatever, Martha. Do you have a message for the doctor? |
Long must you suffer, not knowing what, until suddenly, from a piece of fruit hatefully bitten, the taste of the suffering enters you. And then you already almost love what you've savored. No one will talk you out of it. -Rainer Maria Rilke I've relapsed. | Thursday, January 05, 2006 Last Year: Thursday, January 27, 2005 2 girls leaving Winthrop Ave. I'm the one who's getting out alive.. Today: They caught him. The guy who killed a girl, two buildings down from my old place on Granville and Winthrop. He killed her the same week I got evicted. He's in a Mexican jail now. Justice is a funny thing. It doesn't change much. She's still dead and I'm still homeless. | Tuesday, January 03, 2006 My Wedding  There I am! That's me, can't you tell? I'm wearing a blonde wig.. AND MARRYING A DOLPHIN! Okay, I lied: Woman Marries Dolphin I'm so jealous. *cry* | Monday, January 02, 2006 A Very Blurry New Years  This is me. My face looks manly. Where the hell are my arms?  This is me and Stefanie, making strange drunk faces. My nose is not really that long. We usually look a lot better than this. See our Halloween pictures.  This is Soren, stealing my car while I was busy pissing in a parking lot. |
New Years Resolutions Fucking rock! I don't care what you curmudgeons say. Most of my resolutions last year had to do with keeping safe. Throughout 2005, I did a pretty good job avoiding dangerous behaviors. Now that I'm not an immediate, everyday danger to myself, I can morph into a strong and happy human being. My resolutions this year will focus on ways I can enhance myself and my circumstance: - Finish writing the 1st draft of Happy Hour (A hold-over resolution from last year. I set aside the novel because it was driving me nuts, but am ready to pick it back up again). - Find a home. A warm and pretty haven I can decorate and inhabit the way I choose, where I feel welcome and comfortable. I haven't had that since I got evicted from my apartment, last February. - Find a job with a livable wage, in which I can help people somehow. Like tutoring or working for a non-profit. If I can't find a job like that, I'll volunteer. - Learn how to do something new. A new hobby or skill. Or maybe I'll re-take up my old hobbies: playing the violin and making jewelry. I also want to be a mime more often. Especially when it's completely unexpected. "Look over there. Across the street. Is that a mime... with NUNCHUCKS!!?!?" - Love someone who loves me back. Someone who is appropriate for me, meaning they are not old enough to have fathered me (I'm sorry gentlemen. I just don't remember 1989.) Someone who's not jealous or nervous or trying to run my life or obnoxious or not supportive of my writing. - Collaborate with others on creative projects: podcasting, starting a zine, perhaps playing in a band. - Continue to publish stories and reviews. Perform at readings and open mics. - Take showers! - Lose a little weight. I know, it's cliche. I'm not obese, but I'm sick of guys leaving me for skinny chicks. They always do, even if they gave me that bullshit, "I like more curves on a woman" speech. - Building upon that last resolution: don't compare myself to others. Instead, I'll compare myself to my past, to see how I've grown. - Don't get drunk and barf on people's bathroom floors (or cars or laps or shoes). Do not try to sleep on said bathroom floor after barfing there. College is over. - Quit making out with sleezebags at the Exit. See past entry: Clubtrash Letters. - If it feels right, make amends with some people I've wronged in the past. Keep peace with my current friends. - Have fun as often as possible! Maintain a playful perspective, manifest happy things. There's no good reason to be miserable. So if you don't see me doing these things, dick slap me with a 4-foot dildo! | Sunday, January 01, 2006
 My pleasant, drama-free nomadic New Year, as narrated by an evil goose. Honk honk! |
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