Lake Allison

2006-09-28T08:48:00.000-05:00

Okay, the blog is not over.

Just will become less descriptive.

2006-09-25T13:38:00.000-05:00

This blog is pretty much over

It's been fun.
Thanks for reading!

2006-09-25T02:16:00.000-05:00

He's been trying with limited success
To get this girl to let him get into her pants
But every time he thinks he's getting close
She threatens death before he gets a chance

And that's the way it is in minnesota
And that's the way it is in oklahoma
That's the way it's been since protozoa
First climbed onto the shores of california

And she's been trying with limited success
To get him to turn out the lights and dance
Cause like any girl all she really wants
That fickle little bitch romance
That fickle little bitch romance

And that is why a girl is called a tease
And that is why a guy is called a sleaze
And that's why god made escort agencies
One life to live and mace and GHB

And that's the way it is in minnesota
And that's the way it is in oklahoma
That's the way since the animals and noah
First climbed onto the shores of california

Must not be too kind
Stop thinking love is blind
Clench your fists yeah write
"she's just not my type..."

Why all these conflicting specifications
Maybe to prevent overpopulation
All I know is that all around the nation
The girls are crying and the boys are masturbating

And that's the way it is in minnesota
And that's the way it is in oklahoma
That's the way Aristophanes and homer
Wrote the iliad and lysistrata (not in that order...)

And that's the way it is in minnesota
And that's the way it is in oklahoma
That's the way it's been since protozoa
First climbed onto the shores of california

Dresden Dolls
Shores of California

2006-09-16T10:41:00.000-05:00

I just went outside..

it is such a lovely day!

2006-09-11T12:10:00.000-05:00

But do you have the guts to answer my..

Nohari Window?

heh heh

Like the last one, but less warm and fuzzy..

2006-09-07T20:02:00.000-05:00

Curious

Describe Allison

I'm curious as to how my self-perception matches up to how you all see me.

More (copied from the site):

The Johari Window was invented by Joseph Luft and Harrington Ingham in the 1950s as a model for mapping personality awareness. By describing yourself from a fixed list of adjectives, then asking your friends and colleagues to describe you from the same list, a grid of overlap and difference can be built up.

You are reading this page because Allison Quick wants to know how you'd describe him or her - pick the five or six words from the list below that you think describe Allison Quick the best. (You can set up your own Johari Window afterwards, if you like.)

2006-09-05T02:40:00.001-05:00

Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter is dead.

He was stung in the chest by a sting ray, while filming an ocean show.
Read more about it here.

It's a sad day for the world of nature television.

2006-09-02T14:56:00.000-05:00

Bored with blogging

Making paper version.
Look for it soon.

And voo doo dolls.

2006-08-29T23:17:00.000-05:00

Please...somebody! Give me some homework!

I miss school.
=*(

2006-08-28T22:49:00.000-05:00

It's cold and fucking rainy outside..

I Love it!

2006-08-25T11:35:00.000-05:00

Side Show

I was kidnapped by the side show, last Friday.
Carried on stage and made to stand on the chest of a man who was lying on broken glass.
I'm the one in the red dress.

2006-08-25T11:25:00.000-05:00

More Dolphins!

Because that's what makes this blog so great.

Viki took these lovely pictures:

Little Allison dolphin w/mommy dolphin in foreground. And my hand.

Me, dolphins, children.
I'm the vaguely taller one in front.

Also, I found out who Allison the dolphin was actually named for.
Remember last year in September, when that Metra train derailed?
There was a dolphin researcher on board named Allison Walsh. She was killed in the derailment. They called the baby dolphin Allison, in her honor.

2006-08-23T18:48:00.000-05:00

Look Who I Met!

Allison the dolphin!
The sweetest, friendliest, most magical dolphin ever!!!
Horray!!!!!

She swam right up to the glass to see me, after the dolphin show and posed for this picture. Awww.. just look at that smile!

More to come, once Viki sends me the other pictures.

I want to come back as a performing dolphin, in my next life.

2006-08-22T22:12:00.000-05:00

the scum

the river reeked
of cheap cologne
the fish
grew mostaches
tightened
their pasley ties

soon the
water was
nothing
but hairgel

2006-08-22T01:26:00.000-05:00

I can't tell you the details yet, but life will never quite be the same after this day.

2006-08-21T20:13:00.000-05:00

hahaha!

Thank you for visiting http://www.kraftfoods.com/.

I'm sorry for your experience with VELVEETA Broccoli Rotini & Cheese Dinner. The problem you described sounds like there was a possible mechanical failure at our facility. I am sending you reimbursement via first class mail, which you should receive within 7-10 business days.

We value the quality of the products that leave our facility. We give careful attention to each step of our manufacturing process. Samples from each production run are evaluated before we ship them, in an effort to prevent any unsatisfactory products from entering distribution.

Mistakes can sometimes occur on our production lines. We try to prevent this by stationing inspectors at various points along the production lines, and their duties include watching for malfunctions. Also, our quality control staff makes regular rounds throughout the production area during the day in order to ensure that production equipment is functioning properly.

I hope this information is helpful, and again, I apologize for this experience.

Kim McMiller
Assoc Director, GCR Consumer Services

I can take the refund and use it to buy some real broccoli.

A small compensation for one girl..

But what about my fellow rotini-eaters, nationwide?

2006-08-18T19:40:00.000-05:00

When Writers Get Bored

Dear hard working and most likely underpaid Kraft customer service rep,

Today, I purchased and prepared a disgusting product called Kraft Velveeta Rotini and Cheese with Broccoli. I'm not a crabby person who gets a kick out of writing mean letters to companies. But I'm incredibly offended that Kraft is trying to pass this stuff off as food for human consumption.

First off, that packet of "broccoli" is pathetic. Nothing but dried green crumbs that pretty much all disappear when you drain the noodles. Absolutely no nutritional value.

And has the recipe for Velveeta cheese changed over the years, to include dirty socks? Because the stuff I ate today smelled and tasted like them. (Not that I eat dirty socks, I'm just estimating.) I remember it being delicious, when I was a kid. I'd beg my parents to buy me shells and cheese.

I know this letter is nothing but the whinings of an insignificant consumer-ant and will be promptly ignored with a friendly form letter, but if there's any way you can pass this on to whoever's in charge of the product recipes, that would be cool. There are probably thousands of others who have felt the same way after eating this foul cheese noodle substance.

Thanks,

Allison S
Chicago, IL

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've made dinner plans.

2006-08-18T13:07:00.000-05:00

1988

I was born 20 years too late.

It's a picture of a picture, so it's kind of blurry.

2006-08-16T23:59:00.000-05:00

I'm too much of a basketcase to write on any length about this sort of thing..

So I'll leave it to these guys

Just watch it.

2006-08-15T19:18:00.000-05:00

Allison the Dolphin!

That's right.. A DOLPHIN NAMED ALLISON, BORN ON MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!

This is the most amazing thing I've heard in years.

There is a dolphin at Brookfield zoo that was born on November 3rd of last year, named Allison.

shiny shiny shiny!!!!!!!!!!

Here she is playing ball with her mom
Here is info all about her and more pictures
Here's where it says her name is Allison (near bottom of page)
Here's a movie of her birth

Oh my god..
I must go visit this dolphin.

2006-08-14T20:28:00.000-05:00

Frozen Here at Age 16..

Kids I knew in high school.

Found it through googling. An old friend made it. I am second on the page.

I'm holding a feather duster in that picture.

2006-08-13T09:20:00.000-05:00

Hail Seitan!

Mmm!

2006-08-11T16:21:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I'm still a poet

I've got this poetry gig in Pilsen, tomorrow..
Will be in costume, with my kazoo.

Harrison Park
Damen and 18th
Tennis Courts
Saturday 8/12
at 4pm

I think I'm opening for a Mexican metal band.
This should be interesting.. stop on by.

2006-08-11T09:29:00.000-05:00

Dreamed I was an ice-skater..

Dressed as Marilyn Monroe, in a blonde wig and poofy white dress. I turned figure 8's and triple-axels on the giant ice rink in my mother's bedroom. The crowd screamed and threw roses.

Marilyn was famous and all alone.

I am the infamous casual friend.

2006-08-08T22:33:00.001-05:00

Cockroaches and Hopscotch

Last night, we played hopscotch. Drew boxes 1 to Sky Blue on the kitchen floor, in blue crayon. Woke up the downstairs neighbors with our hopping. The crayon wiped off, for the most part.

- - -

Tonight, I killed a cockroach in the kitchen, squashed it with a bottle of dish soap and told myself the following lie to keep from feeling bad about it:

A cockroach is the physical manifestation of a ghost.* The ghost is bound to it, like a genie to a bottle. When you kill the cockroach body, the ghost goes free. So, I'm doing them a favor.

Die, you antenna-twitching bastards!

*Our apartment is mildly haunted.

2006-08-06T11:03:00.000-05:00

Dreams of a Butter-Eating Contest

I was invited to participate.
I politely declined.
The contestants puked.

2006-08-05T08:58:00.000-05:00

Dreams of a pinball machine..

They gave it to us. It was ours.
But we couldn't drag it up 3 flights of stairs.

2006-08-04T17:22:00.000-05:00

What I Read on Wednesday

No, it's not a true story. Just heavily researched. =)

Panties and the Cop

There was a time they called me Panties. I don't remember why, it's just one of those nicknames you get when you're 19. Like any non-preppy suburban chick, I wore Converse All-Stars, a studded Rainbow Brite hoodie, streaked my long brown braids with green. It looked like somebody blew their nose on my head.

I'd go to crappy parties in Dick Johnson yes-that's-his-real-name's garage. He had a party almost every weekend. The place was set for it: ripped up, greasy couches, blacklights on the ceiling. I'd make out with a boy or two, the sweet and easy kind, who still wore flannel after 1996- then after a few more Jello shots, yeah the green ones made with everclear- I'd start to wander.

It was like I was lured away from the party by this invisible cosmic music, better than the rave wannabe boom-boom crap the DJ was spinning. I'd stumble off and walk the maze of streets with names like Chettleham and Exchester- like the architects were trying to speak British, or something- past house, tree, house, tree, SUV. The claustrophobic comfort that is the suburban sub-division.

I totally knew I'd be first to leave, the first of my crew to move out of their parents' house, out of this wasteland of strip malls and pedicured lawns. After I got my Associates' from CRC, I would do something awesome. Like teach poor children in Pakistan to make musical instruments from mud and twigs.

So anyway, I'd wander away from the party and Chrissy or one of my other friends would eventually find me cross-legged, drunk and drowsy on the corner of Butte and Sexton. I always sat there because it was funny. I'd hear the old red Honda backfire and there'd be Chrissy in the window, waving a bright, lit joint.

"Hey little girl, want some candy?" she'd sing and I'd envy her bleach white Mohawk and get in the car.

But this one night, think it was Labor Day weekend, the party in Dick's garage got kind of rowdy. The kegs ran out, the turntables broke, then Asshole Ben showed up with his posse of thugs in their ICP shirts and tried to start shit. Everybody was shitfaced and screaming. It was bound to get busted soon.

Cue my wandering. I stuck a Mike's Hard Lemonade in my hoodie pocket, slipped past a puking chick and out the garage door.

I made my usual journey, down Exchester. Picked a lily from somebody's garden and sniffed it. Ripped the label off the Mike's, so I could lie and say it was regular lemonade, if stopped by the Shady Peak PD.

Wound up at Butte and Sexton, as usual. Sat my drunk ass down on the grass. It was nice to be dizzy and underage in the thick late August air, breathing perfume from the dogwood trees.

But after like, an hour Chrissy still hadn't plucked me off my corner. That night, she found out her boyfriend got some other chick pregnant and kinda forgot to come get me.

I was about to start back, when this white Crown Victoria pulled up. Fuck. The undercovers.

I could see the cop inside. Black bomber jacket, slicked back hair, sunglasses at 2am. What an asshole.

The window rolled down. "What you doin' there on the corner, little lady?" the cop said. But wait. He was wearing blue jeans, tight ones...

I said, "Dude, you're not a cop. Do you think I'm dumb?"

He removed his sunglasses slowly, "No, you're Panties. You were at Dick Johnson's party. Hop in and I’ll take you back."

But we never went back. No, we drove. Drove west, to Bumblefuck. Parked the Crown Vic on the side of the road by a cornfield. And I dunno how it happened, but there I was, sucking his tongue, which tasted like Kamel Reds and Old Style. His tight jeans were undone only at the fly. I was bouncing up and down on his lap. His fat and perfect cock was poking parts of my insides I didn't know existed.

And he was like, "Fuck me, slut. Fuck me harder you bitch."

Oh my god, no one had ever talked to me that way. And to my drunken ears, it was damn funny. So I was like, "Fuck me! You fucking cop, you fucking pig!"

This rockabilly music, kind of like country punk, vibrated from the speakers and we just fucked and swore until the Crown Vic's interior began to flash red and blue.

"Shit! The real cops!" I leapt from his lap and yanked my pants up over my hips.

He zipped his fly of his tight blue jeans.

2006-08-01T23:04:00.000-05:00

Here's What You're Doing Wednesday Night

Drinking, stories..

The only reading series under investigation by the Chicago Liquor Comission.

Come and watch me!

RUI
8/2 7-10pm
Sheffield and School

---

Here's more info:

Round 14: August 2, 2006 The theme: Road Trips

Come out to Sheffield's (3258 N. Sheffield) on Wednesday, August 2, 2006 from 7:00p.m. - 10:00p.m. to hear some published work from authors who have taken to the road! Then join in on a little trivia, win some books and hear some original work by RUI regulars Rob Duffer and Carly Huegelmann. $ 3 cover

This month's guest is writer - producer Jotham Burrello.http://erpmedia.net

Also,hear original work from writers, Allison S-, Drew Bazini and Darwyn Jones.

AND last but not least, the blonde duet Julia Borcherts and Mandy Snyder will host!

2006-08-01T19:34:00.000-05:00

Today was so hot

I had ice cubes for dinner

2006-07-26T14:16:00.000-05:00

Where Was My Camera!?

At this crucial time:

6:30am, sunrise.. have been a little obsessed with it, lately.
Orange streaks on the water, glassy green and spotted geometric, from the drizzle. Sunny and it's raining, yes. Young seagulls with their brown spots, still stand next to me, don't fly away..
This is my time. No night crawler me, I had you fooled. I'm a creature of the dawn. The brightness that shatters, exposes the filth that accumulates when it's dark. And thus, is often mistaken for the dark..
But this is not about me
no

This is about the old people:
Men in their Hawaiian shirts and bermuda shorts. Ladies in their floral mumus.
Standing in a circle on the sand, each old person rubs the slumped but happy shoulders of the one in front of them.
A circle of back-massaging old people. Laughing so fucking hard.
I can't wait till I'm old.
Till my tits fall and my thighs expand and I know I'll look well, old no matter what I do so I quit trying to wrap myself in a little cupcake package and face each day armed only with my smile and my eyes, my wisdom and the peace that comes with knowing I'm FINALLY on my way out..

A circle of back-massaging old people. On the beach. Fucking hilarious.
Where was my camera?

2006-07-24T20:26:00.000-05:00

Now you can watch the sun rise

if you uh.. happen to be behind me..

These pictures do not rightly portray the lovliness of my new tattoo:

TOPLESS! OHHH!!
Come on, it's just my back. Get over it.

Done by Rebecca, the best tattooer in the land.
tattooheathen.com

Based on this Russian prison tattoo
(look about halfway down the page)

What's with the fonts on this post?

2006-07-23T16:05:00.000-05:00

Welcome to my First Blog Post from Work

Here's all I have to say about work:

2006-07-22T18:13:00.000-05:00

Today

My mom would have hated turning 51..

2006-07-21T00:32:00.000-05:00

Who put the rose on my car?

It smells good.
See, here I'm smelling it:

Think it was just a fluke..
no one's got a big creepy crush on me now, as far as I know.

****

and BY THE WAY
motherfuckers..

where were you tonight???
it was the printers' ball.
tons of hipsters showed up.. but where were the WRITERS!?!?!?

I recognized 3 people there.
a good 3, but
only 3!?

you all missed out
on free magaznies and such

ooh! magazines!

someone take this god damn camera phone away from me.. haha

2006-07-19T08:54:00.000-05:00

Tip of the Day

When you are served a big cup of nothing but vodka..
for fucksakes, don't drink the whole thing in 5 minutes!!

bluhhhh

2006-07-15T14:00:00.000-05:00

At one point in my childhood, I thought Bill Clinton and George Clinton were brothers..

2006-07-15T03:51:00.000-05:00

itch itch.. sneeze..

I am allergic to latex balloons,
especially when vagina-shaped.

Now it is in the freezer, where it cannot harm me.

2006-07-11T20:15:00.000-05:00

For those of you who missed the reading, last Friday

The Planet of Bald Men

There's this planet of nothing but bald men. Every Saturday, they send a shiny-scalped ambassador to find me here on Earth at the club, dance beside me in the fog and flashing lights, entice me with his flawless oval skull. This week, the ambassador is thin and wearing boots. An improvement on the hulking Mr. Clean they sent, last week.

"Queen, you really should return..." he starts and shakes his narrow butt so slightly to the bass.

I play dumb, pretend I don't know what he means, "Queen? That's slick. Does it ever get you laid?"

Then he grabs me by the fingers and gives the secret handshake. To see if I still remember:

1, 2, 3 taps on the wrist, then slide...

I've started wearing gloves to the club. Lace, satin, latex, whatever matches my outfit. If I don't, the ambassador- the bald man's- palm will tantalize me with it's smoothness, smooth like his head, reflective, perfectly curved.

Then I'll recall the dances on the planet of bald men. All the many bald heads, spinning, shining, a bowl of ants.

I'm in the center, nude. They swarm around me, their sweat-slick scalps glide over the curves of my body. One shoves his baldness between my boobs. Another drags his baldness down the small of my back, to my ass. Another burrows his baldness deep between my thighs, to where I am also bald...

I am some sort of queen or a concubine and that planet is my hive, inhabited by nothing but bald men. And me.

I tell the ambassador, the thin one with the boots dancing beside me, "If you want me, you'll have to catch me," tickle the air with my fingers. Toodaloo.

Then prance away from the dance floor, join my friend Sari, back at the bar. Sari looks like me: pale, red lips, nose ring, black dress. But 5 inches taller and 20 pounds thinner and 4 years younger. She is the hot one, as I'm constantly reminded...

Sleazy Ted, the bartender is lurking behind the beer taps, leering at Sari. Ted has a nasty habit of asking girls to blow him in the bathroom. Sari sees me coming and grins with relief.

I say, "This dude tried to dance with me..."

"Yeah, I saw. Seriously, you're always getting hit on by bald guys. What's with that?" she asks.

I know the answer. But how to explain? "I dunno, maybe they dig the bangs," I point to my head, "wish they had hair so they could have Bettie Page bangs."

That same damn Morrissey song- you know, "I am the sun, I am the air"- comes on and a stampede of people flail their way to the dance floor. Me and Sari stay put at the bar.

The club we go to is dark and plays mostly industrial-type music and 80's too. A goth club, I guess. Though I'm not exactly a goth. I'm not melancholy, I just wear black and find I'm allergic to yuppies and hipsters. So I end up here.

The bald men fit in naturally, at this club. A tight black shirt and a silver earring and you'd never know that he was an alien..

That I'm an alien, too.

I ask Sleazy Ted for another Jack and coke.

We're dancing to some crappy EBM. I can feel the bass boom in my bones. The lights are flashing red and blue. The ambassador from the planet of bald men is grinding his crotch on my thigh. He's a big one, I can tell.

He bends down, licks my earring. His tongue is hot, a shiver trickles down my spine. He whispers into the seashell of my ear, "The ship is parked out back, disguised as a large, white van. One word and you can return to your throne, my queen."

It is tempting. Tempting to ditch my crummy job at Barnes and Noble, my superficial friends, the gaping nights I try to fill here at the club.

On the planet of bald men, I'd be noticed, even worshiped. Not just that hot girl Sari's friend. Not just, Miss, do you have the DaVinci code?

Oh, it's tempting! We dance close, the bald man's sweat rains on me, my cheek is stuck to his neck. We move together like wrestling worms. To anyone observing, we're just another horny club-made pair in the process of hooking up.

"I'll be back," I say, squeeze away from the bald man's arms and run back to the bar, back to Sari. The mohawked fellow sitting next to her, buying her drinks gives me an unfriendly look.

I stare into Sari's lovely light brown eyes and blurt, "Okay, the truth is I'm an alien. I'm the queen from this planet of bald men. And the guy I've been dancing with, he's the ambassador who's come to take me home. He's got the space van parked out back..."

"Woah, honey. You're gonna to crawl into some van with a random guy?"

"He'll take me to another planet!"

Sari pinches her eyebrows together and grabs her hip, "How much did you drink?"

I look back at the bald man, still dancing. Just another club kid. Not an alien. I laugh, "Yeah, that is pretty crazy. You're right."

"Let's leave soon."

"Ok, after one more Jack and coke. Hey, Ted!"

2006-07-09T22:07:00.001-05:00

I've Set Standards

I should have done this years ago.
I'm really not that hard to please.

I'm looking for a man (or maybe girl) who:

-Is an appropriate age. Between 20-27, no more than 5 years older or 2 years younger than me.

-Has a job and a stable home. Obviously. Must live in the Chicagoland area.

-Will be respectful toward and not jealous of my friends. Won't expect me to cling to their side in a social situation.

-Has no addictions. Not even weed.

-Might be dating others when we first meet, but is not committed to anyone else. No other girlfriends. Preferably, no kids.

-Has friends of their own. Interesting friends who I wouldn't mind hanging out with.

-Has hobbies and passions of their own, outside of work. If we share a few of these passions, all the better.

-Is on good terms with their family, but is not a coddled mama's boy.

-Is healthy and active. Not a couch potato, but not a gym-going meathead. Someone who takes care of themselves and likes to go out and do things.

-Enjoys sex, is sexually functional, but would never act like I owed it to them.

-Does not hate women. This is important.

-Is of comparable attractiveness to me. Not an ogre, but not too pretty. Has style. Does not look preppy.

-Is of a compatible astrological sign. Pisces, Virgo and Capricorn get along best with me. (Of course, this is not an absolute.)

-Has strong conversation skills, in public and one-on-one. A sharp, but silly sense of humor. An outlook on life that is neither overly sunny nor overly cynical.

-Will act appropriately for our level of commitment. If we met last Thursday, you should not be calling me every day. If we've been boyfriend-and-girlfriend for 2 months, you better be calling me every day!

-Has good taste in food. Would not have to quit eating burgers, but wouldn't balk if I wanted falafel. Has good taste in music. Doesn't have to be a snob about it, but not overly mainstream. Has good taste in books. Must actually read them and like to discuss them.

-Must support my creative endeavors, must be willing to hear my stories.

That's about it.
Not too difficult. =)

2006-07-05T00:41:00.001-05:00

First party at our apt

last night
good food
mostly good time

kept awake by guests till 5
slept then
woke then
worked till 5

I have pretty much been awake since
there is something in the human build that does not lend to sleeping while things explode

so I
rode my bike to the beach and watched
more explosions

explosions out my window still

call me suburban,
but it just does not seem safe for 8-year-olds to be setting off fireworks
in the alley, by the medical waste
at 12:42am

ear plugs
julie gave me some ear plugs
now I can sleep

so many blog posts end in
zzzzzzzz

2006-07-02T03:53:00.000-05:00

I'll drink your shitty bear

I'll listen to you stupud stories

good niht

zzzzzzzzzzz

2006-06-29T21:02:00.001-05:00

I am not a ranter..

but lately, I've encountered a few things that really suck and I'm compelled to tell you about them:

1. Fuck health insurance!
After 15 years of excessive medical debt and many strange clinic visits, my dad finally scored our family some health insurance. Not sure why I qualify. I'm over 19 and out of college. But I won't question these things.

So yeah, I go to the Blue Cross/Blue Shield website to look for a dentist in my area. I've got this this tacky brown spot on my two front teeth and I'd like to have it bleached off. Only the website tells me the closest dentists covered under my plan are in motherfucking KENOSHA WISCONSIN! Not a single one in Chicagoland proper. DaaaahhH!

2. Fuck yuppies.
Yes, again.
And then fuck them some more.
Fuck them for their oblivious ways. Like this morning, for example, this yuppie sits next to me on the brown line. I'm in the window seat, she's in the aisle. My stop is approaching. I stand and politely say, "excuse me". No response from Ms. Yup. She is hiding beneath her $180 sunglasses and white earphones, dreaming of condos and bimmers and whatnot. I say louder, "excuse me!" Still no response. Finally, I bash her gently over the head with my bag, "Oops! Sorry!" She gets up.

Yuppies are stubborn in their ignorance of life outside pilates and pointy shoes. Like mules, won't budge until beaten.

I have a theory that Chicago yuppie chicks have the most annoying voices on the planet. Think about it.. Chicago accents are nasal to begin with. Add to it a general disregard for the feelings of others and a sense of entitlement that lends them no remorse for the most bone-shattering shriek of, "OH MY GOD I'M SOOO DRUNK". If you don't believe me, stroll down Clark Street, near Wrigley Field on a Friday or Saturday night and try to tell me you don't long for some kind of automatic weapon.

3. Fuck the ipod shuffle!
My last one had some sort of factory defect, so they replaced it for free. Very cool. Only now, the one they've replaced it with is defective, too. Three words: FUCK THAT SHIT!! After thourough research of online message boards pertaining to the shuffle, I've developed a theory: the ipod shuffle was designed to get the user "hooked" on ipod, then to break after just a few months. I guess Apple figures that we'll figure, "Oh well. I've got to get a new one, anyway. Might as well spend $300 dollars more to get a full-blown ipod."

Well, bitches. That isn't gonna work on me. I will go down to the Apple store and demand a new shuffle every month, if I have to.

*deep breath*

Now back to your regularly scheduled irreverence.

2006-06-28T15:08:00.000-05:00

No two people needed that more.

2006-06-26T00:41:00.000-05:00

I Thought I Was a Vegetarian!

In the past year, I have eaten up to:
- 11 insect larvae
- 27 whole insects (or insect parts)
- 753 fly eggs
- 151 maggots
- 270 rat hairs
- 7714 mites

What have you eaten?

The icky details.

2006-06-25T10:58:00.000-05:00

Al Gore says the waves will swallow us all..

more later

2006-06-23T20:59:00.000-05:00

I Made a Photoblog!

allisonriver.blogspot.com

The world seen through my crappy camera phone.

2006-06-23T02:27:00.000-05:00

Hey!

Wound up at a balkan dance party, tonight.
This chick slapped my ass and called me a bitch.

It was like a family get-together.
We were supposed to like each other, but the music was just so fierce..

2006-06-21T12:05:00.000-05:00

Haado Gei, hoooooo!

Okay!

This is Hard Gay.

He prances through the streets of Tokyo in his shiny leather shorts and helps out people in distress. He makes sushi for children. He ilfiltrates the corporate offices of TOMY and Yahoo. He cleans up the park.

He's my hero.

Watch Hard Gay here.

2006-06-20T00:50:00.000-05:00

angst

2006-06-15T21:16:00.000-05:00

My Brain Had Liquefied and Was

slowly dripping from my ears.
I could not think, could not write.. so..

I signed up for violin lessons.
Horray!

I took lessons for many years when I was a kid, but my fingers have grown rusty.
I will work hard and will sound good in no time.

Who wants to start a band in a few months?

2006-06-15T02:42:00.000-05:00

2006-06-10T02:51:00.000-05:00

What time is it?

NOW

Where are we?

HERE

Here when?

NOW

Okay, NOW where are we?

HERE

What time did we get here?

NOW

Where have we been?

HERE

What time are we leaving?

NOW

Where will we go then?

HERE

What's the clock say?

NOW

Why?

2006-06-10T01:28:00.000-05:00

I searched for the corner of Hooker and Weed tonight.

Wanted to post a picture of it here.

Upon exploration, found that the river flows through the spot where Hooker St and Weed St should intersect.

Ripple ripple.

2006-06-10T01:25:00.000-05:00

What herb are you?

YOU ARE CATNIP
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

2006-06-08T21:57:00.000-05:00

last year on this day

we fled LA-
me and my 2nd
fiancee

you hated palm trees anyway

2006-06-06T00:59:00.000-05:00

Tonight we almost had a cat

It followed me home, this black and orange spotted cat with bright green eyes. Followed me down the sweetly reeking alley, up 3 flights of wooden stairs. Slipped between my legs and through the doorway.

It was friendly. Extremely friendly, rubbed its head on you, on your hand, on everything around, like walls and couches.

"Let's name it Chairman Meow.."

"Is it stray?"

We couldn't tell.
It was dirty, like a stray. But it was fat, well fed.

My room mate started sneezing.

"We can't have a cat if you're allergic."

"But we can't let him roam around outside!"

"He's done okay so far.."

It wouldn't eat what we offered it: some rice milk and some leftover tofu surprise.

"If we keep it, it needs cat food and a litterbox."

"It's 11:30. Is Jewel still open?"

Ehh.

We let the Chairman go. Out the back door, shut it fast. He probably sat on the deck for a while.

"I'm worried. We should let him back in. Is cat poop hard to clean up?"

"No, let him go. That cat has a wandering spirit. He's not our cat, he's everyone's cat. There's probably kids who pet him, someone who gives him food. He's the neighborhood cat. Not ours."

We'll see him again.

2006-06-03T14:07:00.000-05:00

This is what you're doing on Wednesday

Copied from an RUI e-mail:

What: RUI: Reading Under the Influence - SEX

When: Wednesday, June 7, 2006 - from 7-10 p.m.

Where: Sheffield's, 3258 N. Sheffield Ave.

How much: $3

Who: Our guest is the SEXy GINA FRANGELLO, of "Other Voices" fame and the novel "My Sister's Continent." Learn more about Gina here: www.ginafrangello.com

Plus, SEXy readings by:

*Julia "The Knockout" Borcherts

*Rob "Big Daddy" Duffer

*Carly "Hot Little Mama" Huegelmann

*Amanda "The Blonde Bomber" Snyder

and that kook from Dubuque,

*Joe "The Muscle" Tower

Come on out and hear some smutty, slutty, sexy readings from published authors about sex, plus some original work, answer some trivia, win some stuff, take off your top and make out with a stranger in the bathroom. You know you want to.

2006-06-02T22:32:00.000-05:00

I got a new phone

And it has a camera.. which means..
ANOTHER LIGHTBULB PICTURE! yay

2006-06-01T20:22:00.000-05:00

Dangerous Dolphins

Found this on engrish today:

2006-05-31T02:29:00.001-05:00

drinking

2006-05-29T04:22:00.000-05:00

Went out again.. fucking hell

the old scene fits me like a
black
constricting
shoe

If I look good today, I'll go out tonight. If I go out tonight, chances are I will meet new or see familiar guys who will offer me drinks. If I accept their drinks, I will have to kiss them. If I kiss them, maybe one will take me home. If one takes me home, there's a 1 in 10 chance it'll be good. If it's good, then we'll exchange numbers. If he calls me and we get together a few more times, we might develop mushy feelings. If we get the mushy feelings AWWW then we might declare ourselves a couple. If we're a couple, we can break up.

Fuck that!
I'm done with the human mating dance.
The labels, rules, restrictions.
"It's over," you say but your soul may not agree. Your third-eye may still have the other on psychic speed dial.

Ego is the abandoning master. Emotions are the whimpering puppy on the doorstep, not sure where to go, stupidly begging to be let back inside with the ego who's rejected it.

Can we fucking be nice for once? Can we let the puppy in?
Nice puppy! Chews up your
black
constricting
shoes

but they were too tight anyway!
good puppy!
puppy chews up everything oppressive

That's it. I just wanted my body back.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

2006-05-28T20:29:00.000-05:00

Objects are so much better than people!

Today I got me a fan and a bicycle.
And get this.. the fan has REMOTE CONTROL! WOAHH!
The bike is nifty too.

I am pleased.

2006-05-28T10:10:00.000-05:00

It was easier in December

to wear black velvet and dance for hours.
Though last night the music was spiked with extra badness (electronic ho-hum), so there was not much dancing to be done.

Eh. It was Nocturna: say hi to people, look pretty, have a drink.

Got hit on by this girl with a fuzzy raccoon shaped backpack. She told me all about her dead cats within 5 seconds of meeting me: "Francine got hit by a car. Tulip got cancer and allll her fur fell out.."
You think the guys I attract are weird, you should see the girls!

To make a long blog post less rambly and misguided, it was a good night. Saw people I'd forgotten existed outside of myspace. Kept out of trouble. Arrived home safely at 5:30am.

Now it's 10:30. Work time.
On this beaming summer day, I'll be stuck in a trendy office loft.
But it's okay. The discipline is good for me.

Oh yeah, one more thing. My hair is black now. I just don't feel like a sunny blonde anymore. I fully admit, I have a hair-changing compulsion. It's something I can drastically change at will. Something stirrs inside me and I can't relax until I cut or dye my hair. I have no hair left because of this.

Okay, enough. Gotta go.

2006-05-26T10:09:00.000-05:00

Commercial for Dopescrew 9

Two hosts. One sound guy. One senator. One federal judge. A whole lot of FBI. And a tragedy on the launch pad.

What are the obscene and terrifying secrets behind Dopescrew 6? And was Dopescrew 7 really a cry for help from the community, or just a cheap ploy for money and weird photographs?

On Dopescrew 9, we investigate the disappearance of Dopescrews 6 and 7 and unveil the truth, and you won't believe your ears when you hear what that truth is!

Dopes and degenerates, stay tuned.

2006-05-25T08:54:00.000-05:00

The Agreement
a very short play

Boy and Girl tie themselves to each other as they say their lines. Ropes, ribbons, caution tape, christmas lights, etc.. can be used for this.

Boy: I will love you and stay with you, so long as you're well behaved.

Girl: I will love you and stay with you, so long as you do whatever I say.

Boy: I get exclusive rights to your body.

Girl: I get exclusive rights to your time.

Boy: And if this agreement is violated..

Girl: All love declared henceforth shall be considered null and void..

Boy: And we'll part ways immediately.

Girl: ...forever.

Boy and Girl: Deal.
Sign their names on the contract, shake hands, obligatory kiss.

Boy and girl try to exit the stage in different directions, but can't because they are tied together.

2006-05-23T18:41:00.000-05:00

You're right.

What a relief.

2006-05-23T03:18:00.000-05:00

I'm the same girl I was last Thursday.

2006-05-23T01:41:00.000-05:00

He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone at her.

You probably know where that's from.
When I was a kid, my grandma took me to church. They had me memorize Bible verses. I was really good at it. They gave me trophies for it. And the verse about the "first stone" sort of stuck in my head all these years. Jesus said it when this crowd asked him to judge an adultrous woman.

And I thought of that quote tonight because I've fucked up.
Let me explain..

On Saturday, I caught the bouquet at my friend's wedding. I'm clumsy as fuck and wasn't wearing my glasses, but somehow my hand just shot up, like a bouquet attracting magnet was stuck in my palm. As the cameras clicked, capturing me and the lovely bride in this moment of hope, as my friends and random guests congratulated me, I began to think that maybe love and happiness were things I could find too..

Then I realized I had love already.
It hit me: oh my god, I'm with a good one!
Sure we had our issues but overall, our moments together were happy.

And that terrified me.
So I looked for a problem, found one. Sabotaged what he and I had in the quickest and cruelest way.

I'm sorry.
You didn't deserve that and have every right to ditch me.

But I'd like to think a person is more than just a summary of their actions. I'd like to think that love is being able to look at your loved one as a whole and say, "Your not perfect. In fact, you're a pain in the ass sometimes. But I accept you how you are." I'd like to think that love is patient. I'd like to think that what we had is worth salvaging.

Maybe I'm being naive, but I still have hope and this damn bouquet in a vase.

If there were anything.. a cookie that lets you travel through time when you eat it, some perfect, affirming apology.. that I could do to reverse this.. maybe a little time can heal us..

If not, at least I've learned something.

I won't sleep tonight.

2006-05-19T15:51:00.000-05:00

Graduates Beware!

Okay, you know those letters you're getting? The ones that promise amazing .00004% interest rates if you re-consolidate your student loans?

Well, don't do it!
At least not for a while..
If you reconsolidate your loans right after you graduate, you lose your 6 month grace period for paying them back and will start receiving bills immediately.

Just a warning.
As always, I learned it the hard way, so I thought I'd share.

Now back to our regularly scheduled irreverance.

2006-05-19T00:21:00.000-05:00

I'd rather fold my laundry than write in this blog.
That is sad.

2006-05-16T19:42:00.000-05:00

Just one big fucking joke, huh?!

You Should Be a Joke Writer

You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation.
Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life...
You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material.
You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

2006-05-13T20:12:00.000-05:00

I know that weird little ae characters show up when I paste stories into my blog from Word..

But I'm too lazy to go through and change each and every one..

So just know that ae means '

2006-05-13T20:04:00.000-05:00

A Serious Story

This is what I read at the Hothouse, yesterday.
I'm trying to push past my usual shock tactics and tell stories that are amusing, but with depth beyond poop and sex.

Jack’s Backyard

The night before Mom’s wake, I was lying on my back in Jack Malone’s backyard. A wet August night in the Suburbs. It doesn’t matter which suburb. You know it sounds like crickets and everyone’s sleeping.

Jack and I were lying side by side on a blanket, watching a meteor shower. I’d only known him a week, but he was the closest thing I had to a lover at that point, a stand-in.

The sex was rotten. He couldn’t uh… keep it up. But still, I’d throw pebbles at his window well into the fall. Just because he was there for me the night before my mom’s wake, you know?

But this is not really about Jack Malone. I digress, I distract. I don’t want to tell you about Mom’s wake. Everyone writes boo-hoo eulogies for their dead parents and well, I don’t exactly want to relive the whole ordeal. What a circus. So many white lilies, they almost smelled like gasoline. The mobs of wailing toddlers (Mom was a preschool teacher). Me, the manic hostess in black polka dots. Pretending I was just the party planner and not the dead lady’s daughter. Greeting sundry second cousins at the door of the funeral home, “I’m so glad that you came! There’s cookies and coffee in the basement…”

So I’ll start somewhere safe. On the blanket in Jack Malone’s backyard, behind his parents’ beige, aluminum-sided fortress, within the comforting rectangle of privacy fencing. The wet grass had soaked through the blanket, through our shirts, chilling our backs with every breeze. But we did not hold each other for warmth.

Not that Jack wasn’t a pretty boy. His face was sculpted to golden proportion by doctors, after a disfiguring car accident when he was 9. But I wasn’t looking at Jack, his full lips, his Michelangelo nose. Human bodies felt so temporary, like fast food wrappers. I couldn’t fathom attraction to something so disposable. So I just watched the meteors streak white and gold across the black sky. Counted them: 4, 5, 6…

No, I didn’t sigh and say, “Oh Jack, do you think my mother’s looking down at us right now?” My eyes were not red and swollen from soul-shaking sobs. Yeah, I cried for about an hour when I first heard. This cop was the one to tell me, this lady cop with an oily ponytail. She had to be the fucking monotone hero, “I’m sorry Allison. Your mother passed away. She had a heart attack in her sleep.”

I fell to my knees and screamed, “NOOOO!” Like a bad early-90’s horror flick, when the quarterback finds the dead cheerleader.

But one night later, on the blanket in Jack Malone’s backyard, my eyes were deserts. I’d just been swallowed by the Numb. Told myself there’s no reason to get all weepy over death. It’s a waste of emotion. You can’t do anything about death, but accept it.

Jack asked, “Heya wanna smoka jaint?” He talked sort of funny. The doctors couldn’t quite fix his jaw after the accident.

“Of course,” I said, “got some rum, too?” It had just occurred to me that I could take drugs, drink, stay out all night. My first night as an orphan.

Jack lit the joint, sucked in, blew out a cloud of smoke and said, “Heart attack, huh?” Then passed it to me.

“Yep. She took too many diet pills. Amphetamines. Speed. That shit’ll stop your heart.” I hit the joint. The air got thicker. My eyelids fell. I passed it back to Jack and said, “But it made her who she was, you know?. Really hyper, really fun. Really angry, sometimes…”

We wouldn’t mention the pills, the next day at Mom’s wake. My meathead uncle wouldn’t, when he grabbed the microphone from the pastor and yelled, “Fuck God! Fuck God for taking her too soon!”

And I wouldn’t mention it to the parents of Mom’s preschool class when I walked by, shaking their hands, one-by-one as the dutiful bereaved. The kids stood, sniveling single file in front of the casket. A picture of Mom, blonde and beaming, was propped on the lid, surrounded by lilies, so many white lilies.

I found myself telling this 4-year-old boy, “It’s okay. You’ll see her again when you die.”

But that only made him cry harder. Though I was so disconnected, I didn’t understand why…

2006-05-09T21:15:00.000-05:00

Gradumawation!!!

I got 2 tassles: a silver one and a gold one cuz I'm an honor student. Yeahhh!

2006-05-08T20:56:00.000-05:00

2006-05-03T09:08:00.000-05:00

9am, Woozy and Hung Over

What the hell does woozy mean? Is it even a word?

My X post from 3am only half made sense. But that amuses me, so I'm leaving it as is.

Here are pix from Dopescrew Episode 8: Fundamentalist Crusaders' Massacre. We posted them last night from the bar. Ahh.. technology.

And now I shall drink my detox tea to get all the ickies out of my liver.

2006-05-03T02:30:00.001-05:00

Drunk w/ the letter X

It's 3AM.. I SHOULD go to bed instead but...

Meme: Comment on this entry and I will give you a letter. Write ten words beginning with that letter, including an explanation of what the word means to you and why.

god_is_disabled gave me the letter X.

1. Xanadu: Paradise. To me, Xanadu would be a land of do-what-you-please. Where you live off the pear trees and soybean plants, the neighbors keep turtles in their bathtub, and you blow shit up on a regular basis. There's always beer in the fridge.

2. Xanax: A medication I have not been perscribed. I never had problems with anxiety..

3. Xanphine- A chemical found in caffiene, so the Skin Clown says. Drrrr.. I like caffiene.

4. Xenophobe- Fear of foreigners. I've never really had this problem. While I was growing up in the buttwad suburbs, none of the white kids wanted to be my friend. I didn't have the right brand of gym shoes, or something. So the foreign kids were the only ones who would play with me at recess. To this day, I'm pretty much cool with anyone, regardless of what country they were born in, so long as we connect on some level.

5. Xerox- Was some kind of mythical panther who stole food, or whatever. Is also a machine I would use if I ever got motivated enough to publish a zine.

6. X-Ray- I got one of these after I rode my bike through a construction zone. I was 9. I did not notice the metal pipe sticking out of the ground until it gouged a bloody hole in my leg. No broken bones, just 45 stitches. You can still see the pipe-shaped scar on my shin, curved like a grin.

7. X-Rated- They call it NC-17 now. If you want porn, just watch porn. Don't fuck around with Saved By the Bell rejects and their crappy ass Showgirls.

8. Xavier- The middle name of one of my favorite teachers in middle school. He assigned us roles and had us act out concentration camps. I'd never learned so much about history.

9. Xuxa- The host of some South American children's show. Xuxa would sing songs. The children on TV would sing along, but I wouldn't. They used to show it on channel 11.

10. XXX- tee hee

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

2006-04-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

I wrote something!

This will be part of a story, eventually.
No, it's not true.

I’m on the brown line, trying to look business casual. In my pinstripe pants and smart gray shirt with buttons down the front and long sleeves to hide my tattoos. Ears garnished with bright white earphones, like at least a third of my fellow el riders. Did not take a taxi today, no. Not after my encounter yesterday with that bearded man, his butternut squash in the back seat, the ominous truck-shaped dents on either door. Ugghh! I will fear yellow checkers. At least for a couple of weeks.

It is rush hour on the train. I am standing, clinging to a greasy pole like some kind of 9am stripper on rails. I am a little late and though I’ve been working on cultivating calmness in situations like this and will not burst into tears or bite my fingers in rage or try to trip a stranger on his way to the door, I can still tell that I’m nervous. The way I’m chewing on my lips, the way niggling, insignificant things are causing me to well up with righteous indignation. Like this guy across from me, eating a god damn Big Mac for breakfast. Lettuce tumbling from the sides, landing on the wrapper in his lap with a plop, plop, plop each time he bites the horrible, floppy thing. I can smell the ketchup and mustard, sour like feet, fighting to overpower the fresh and pleasant orange juice/tooth paste taste in my mouth.

It’s not the burger itself. Were it noon, I wouldn’t give it a second of thought. But this is breakfast time. Show the morning its proper honor and order an Egg McMuffin, at least. And for fucksake, why’d they give the damn thing a last name? An Egg McMuffin, as if it were Irish or something…

Ooh! Lookie there! An empty seat. Next to this blonde frog of a woman on her cell phone. Her lips too wide for her customary Atkins diet/Pilates over-thin yuppie mug. Her mouth extends to Pac Man proportions with every word: “My fiancé doesn’t like the new condo. Says his old place was bigger, but that neighborhood was so… icky… I told him we had to…”

My ass feels incredibly cold. And wet.

“Oh yeah, honey, don’t sit there. It’s wet,” Froglady says. Honey. You’re are a bit too late.

I get up without even a glance in her direction. I just sat in something wet. On the el. A dark spot on the ass of my pinstripe pants. A dark spot I will wear to work. My second day of work. A dark spot of fuck knows what. Coca-cola? Battery acid? Pee?

Yeah, it’s pee alright.

2006-04-27T19:10:00.001-05:00

Nobody reads my blog anymore..

I think.
And it gives me a newfound freedom to write whatever the hell I want.
I don't have anybody to impress.
I don't have to be shocking.
Will not display the gargantuan phalli of various dick-wielding creatures.
Sorry.

So today, I will tell you about my life and how absolutely every major aspect of it has changed, in the past month. So SIDDOWN AND LISTEN. Please?

Ok.

Firstly, and least interestingly, I've started 2 new jobs. One is working for a place that does mystery themed dinner parties. Rich cheeseballs pay hundreds of dollars to dress up like 1920's gangsters and basically play a live game of Clue. No, I don't run the parties. I work in the office: answering phones, filing, preparing mailings, typing, blablablaaaaaaa. It's not bad. The office is decorated with gargoyle statues and Egyptian sarcoph..sarcophig.. err... king Tuts. My other job is working for some sort of recruiting firm. I give people job interviews over the phone before they come in for their actual job interviews. I'm not sure why this is worth paying me and a myriad of other entry-level schubs 8-10 dollars an hour. But I don't question the paycheck. (<---scariest sentence I've ever typed)

Also, I've moved. I live with a hippy and 3 dudes from China. hehe
We get along, for the most part. Mind our own businesses. It's a nice place, by the end of the brown line (ahh! now you can stalk me). I have my own room, with a door that almost closes all the way. It's nice not to drive 2 hours each time I want to hang out in the city.

And.. I have a boyfriend. I am not one to gush, but he's fucking cool. We treat each other with sweetness and respect, have a lot to talk about. He kisses like he means it and has the most gorgeous hair.

Lastly, and quite awesomely, I am typing this post on a brand new computer. Well, not brand new, exactly.. I went with my dad to this computer chop shop place where they'll build you a computer with gently used parts. It cost the same as a new Dell, but with a lot more software and perks.

So that's me. Happy, stable, somewhat complacent. Not writing a whole lot. It'll take me a while to get used to creating without the help of insanity.

2006-04-21T16:04:00.000-05:00

I have nothing to say to the world..

Except listen to Dopescrew 8, bitches.

This episode features:
1. Fundementalist Crusader's Massacre!
2. The Dopecrew
3. Ear-splitting sound levels
4. 1960's sex-ed with Miss Spanky
5. The Assbong
6. A threesome with the Furer
7. Korean rice wine tasting
8. A 4 pack of enemas

2006-04-16T11:49:00.000-05:00

I'm fine, stuff is good..

Promise I'll write a real post soon.

The easter bunny hates you!

2006-04-08T19:39:00.000-05:00

I will move/am moving/have moved..

So it might be a while before I get my internet connected at the new place.

2006-04-08T06:13:00.000-05:00

good day

so you dont want to hear about my good song?
and you dont want to hear about how i am getting on
with all the things that i can get done
the sun is in the sky & i am by my lonesome
so you don't want to hear about my good day?
you have better things to do than to hear me say

god its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i took out the trash today and i'm on fire...

so you don't want to hear about my good friends?
you dont have the guts to take the truth or consequence
success is in the eye of the beholder
and its looking even better over your cold shoulder

i'm not suggesting you up and line me up for questioning
but jesus think about the bridges you are burning
and i'm betting
that even though you knew it from the start
you'd rather be a bitch than be an ordinary broken heart

so go ahead and talk about your bad day...
i want all the details of the pain and misery
that you are inflicting on the others
i consider them my sisters and i'd like their numbers

god its been a lovely day!
everything is going my way
i took up croquet today and i'm on fire

i picked up the pieces of my broken ego
i have finally made my peace as far as you and me go
but i'd love to have you up to see the place
& i'd like to do more than survive i'd like to rub it in your face.....

hey! its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i had so much fun today and i'm on fire
god it's been a lovely day everything's been going my way
ever since you went away hey i'm on fire.....
i'm on fire...i'm on fire...
so you dont want to hear about my good day?

That was a Dresden Dolls song. I saw them last night/this morning. Whichever..

My dress split down the front during "Coin Operated Boy". My boobies popped out, but I quick put my coat on before anyone could see.

More later.

zzzzzzz

2006-04-06T17:19:00.000-05:00

Ditsy

Today I burnt my split pea soup.
What the hell?
I didn't know soup could burn.

2006-04-03T10:02:00.000-05:00

Our thoughts compressed which makes us blessed and makes for stormy weather.

2006-04-01T16:51:00.000-06:00

The winner is..

By far, RASPUTIN!

For:
1. Shagging the tsarina
2. Healing the tsarevich's hemophilia via hypnosis
thus ingratiating himself with the royal family. Enchanting his way to a position of import, where he would alter world politics.

He was born a peasant and rarely bathed. Had orgies in his basement. Just my type of guy. =)

Here he is in a pair of hip sunglasses, seductively pulling his beard:

HOT!

Here's Rasputin with his bitches:

Rasp, you the pimp!

And here is his pickled penis:

13 inches! Can be found at the erotic museum in St. Petersburg. Until I steal it.

Rasputin, all sexy in bed:

Recovering from an assassination attempt. It's okay Rasp, I'll make you feel all better..

Various assholes tried to assassinate Rasputin over the course of his life. Through poisoning mostly. Nothing worked, until Prince Felix Youssoupov threw him into a frozen pond, where he got caught under the ice and turned into a Rasputin-sicle.

When Rasputin was killed, the peasants were pissed. He was one of them. So there was this uprising, they killed the royal family. And that's how Rasputin caused comminism in Russia. That rascal!

This website claims Rasputin is still living.

But I don't think the alleged new pictures of him are real. They're just pictures of bums and hippys, none of which have those dark, deep set Rasputin eyes that make me grab myself inappropriately.

Hey. You have porn, I have Rasputin.

As for Al Capone, you gotta love him. A lot, if you're from Chicago. He gave our city it's badass image. Without Capone, what would Chicago be known for? Oprah? But basically, all he did was make money and kill. And wear a fedora, which was cool. Though his penis is not 13-inches long and pickled for all eternity.

So Rasputin was definately more badass.

2006-03-30T17:06:00.000-06:00

Who's more badass: Al Capone or Rasputin?

The mobster or the mad monk?
The power of organized corruption? Or the power of mind control?

My sister and I had this debate today.
Before I tell you who I was rooting for..
Any thoughts from the peanut gallery?

2006-03-29T20:48:00.000-06:00

THERE WILL BE NO FURTHER COMMENTS..

regarding my bowels on this here blog!
It is now a banned topic, like horse cock.

My stomach has settled a bit. I guess it remembered what to do with meat. And I'm confident I can find a new job by the time I'm supposed to move (in 2 weeks).

The universe shows you what you want to see..

And I see a bottle of mango flavored rum. That's fine for now. =)

2006-03-29T17:56:00.000-06:00

Worst Day Ever

Started one job, got fired from the other.

Can't move out now, am stuck here until I find another job.

After 10 years of no meat, accidentally ate pork and shrimp in some very deceptive eggrolls.
Internal bleeding, no further details.

Chorus of enemies, go ahead and laugh.

2006-03-29T08:14:00.000-06:00

Maybe an animal attacked the salamander. Like a squirrel, or something? No, squirrels eat nuts.. Or maybe when I threw the salamander back into the water, a fish gobbled it up. We'll never know.

Am I still talking about this?

2006-03-28T15:35:00.000-06:00

The Salamander

Today I went for a walk in the woods, as I do on most days I don't work. But could not enjoy it, the spring air, the sun. My mind was too swimmy with human concerns: some dumbfuck ex-boyfriend who tried to play with my head this morning, whether the guy I'm seeing now is as sweet as he seems or just another heartbreak waiting to happen, stories I should write, stories I should submit, the new job I start tomorrow, how I'm finally moving out of my dad's house again. The nervous hope that everything will work. And the strange surrender that comes with knowing you're trying the best you can and there's nothing more..

After sauntering around the pond and through the trees, examining plant buds, but not really caring, I thought I'd lie on a grassy hill and stare at the sky. I looked down and something was squirming, just ahead of me in the soggy grass. Something dark and slimy, flipping its tail. A fish? A snake? It sort of looked like both..

I scampered back to the pond, broke off a reed to poke the creature with. Wasn't going to pick it up with my fingers. What if it bites? I gently lifted it onto the reed and noticed it's little arms and legs, it's bulgy eyes. It was a salamander. Black with blue spots. Would've been the cutest damn thing if its guts weren't spilling out of its middle. There was it's bladder, a yellow pea. There were its intestines, curly like doll's hair. Poor salamander was fucked up beyond healing. Condemned.

Some piece of shit kid with no respect for nature must've caught it, maimed it and left it there on the grassy hill to die in the sun. I had to put it out of it's agony, spare it the long and dry death. So I picked it up by it's slick little tail, carried it to the water. Told it, "You'll be a lot more comfortable here" and "remember me in your next life", then tossed it gently into the pond. The salamander vanished with a splash and I cried a few tears.

It's been on my brain ever since. I can't worry about anything else but how it must feel to have a hole ripped in your stomach..

The cruel beauty of nature is the only thing I really "believe in".

2006-03-27T16:16:00.000-06:00

1983

Piggy bends over and says, "So if I let you do me in the butt, you'll be my friend forever and ever? Really!? Okay!"

In the Asian zodiac, I'm a pig. A "water boar" to be exact.

Which means people born in 1983 tend to carry the more emotional traits of the boar. We're naive and gullible, regardless of life experience. Generous to a fault if you get on our good side. Senselessly loyal. A boar will be friends with you for years, even if she hates your guts. Any boar you know probably has a collection of ex flames who she can't quite bear to part with, and vice versa.

We are cultural, but in a general, somewhat superficial way. A Japanese proverb says boars are "wide in the face, but narrow in the back". We can name hundreds of bands we like, but only a few songs by each. (Note: MTV came out in 1983 and brought the music and film worlds to new lows of shallow). We've read tons of books, but couldn't quote a passage from a single one to save our pig-slop.

Boars are charming and funny. We like to flirt and tell dirty stories. But to a stranger, the boar can seem quiet and maybe a little stupid. If you chill with a boar, the night will most likely consist of eating, drinking and talking. A boar will give you a sip of her drink, a bite of her food, will gladly do the driving. But do not take advantage of her generosity. Once the boar senses you're using her, she'll hand you your testicles on a plate and kindly show you to the barn door. The boar is unforgiving. She has to be, or she'll get eaten.

Boars are paranoid. They don't trust easy. They can never be too sure who's their real friend and who's out to make them into a pork chop. There's another proverb that says people will help the boar only to fatten her up so she'll make a better feast, come new years. Asian New Years usually happens around late January. So those of us at the end of 83 (like me, born in November) or the beginning of 84 are extra gullible, extra succeptable to getting tricked.

Boars get along best with dogs and rabbits. Also rats and goats. Most of my friends are dogs and rats (1982 and 84). Boars get along worst with snakes and sometimes have difficulty with other boars.

So yeah, I don't know where the hell I'm going with this, but it was fun to write.

Maybe I can get a job writing placemats for Chinese restaurants. hehe

2006-03-24T22:44:00.000-06:00

New Hair

After 3 bleachings, it looks pretty good.
My scalp is crusty and raw.
There's still some brassy orange patches in back. =(

2006-03-24T15:54:00.000-06:00

2006-03-22T09:42:00.000-06:00

Fiction Writers.. In Outer Space!

I had a dream last night. And you were there, and you, and you and you..

All my friends from school were there at the rocket-launchy thing they set up next to the Sears Tower. Our ship would arrive in 45 minutes. We had one last chance to wander about the town and say our goodbyes before blast off.

I got lost. Somewhere up north. Maybe I was trying to walk all the way back home. I climbed the stairs to an el platform, tried to figure out where the hell I was. Then I saw it in the distance, peeking between the skyscrapers. Like a thousand foot tall bullet, silver, shiny, leaned against the rocket-launchy thing. The ship I would ride to space. I caught the next train to the Loop.

And got there just in time for boarding. My friends from school were giddy and terrified. Giggling through tears and squeezing each other's hands as we climbed the stairs to the space ship. A crowd waved and cheered below us. Such heroes we were, the first fiction writers in space.

In the belly of the ship were a fuck load of research monkeys. Big, fuzzy apes, little spider monkeys. Deformed monkeys with 18 fingers. They howled and rattled the bars of their cages as we passed. Before we could proceed, a scientist had us autograph a monkey's stomach. I gently pushed aside it's fur to write my name. It didn't seem to mind.

In another room were these donkeys with enormous mouths. "They're our newest creation. Donkeys with horse lips!" a scientist eagerly explained. Uhh.. okay..

We climbed more stairs to a locker room where we'd change into our space suits. I'd forgotten mine, but they had a spare that seemed like it would fit.

Soon, we looked like 80's Ghostbuster marshmallow men, or children set to play in the snow. It was time to take our seats. The scientist opened the door to the passenger area..

and I woke up!
Fuck! Couldn't get back to sleep because my stomach was squeezing with pain from the green pepper I accidentally ate last night (I'm deadly allergic. And couldn't tell it was a green pepper because it was covered in tempura batter).

But I believe dreams are real. In some time, in some dimension, there are fiction writers in space. Oh yes..

2006-03-20T21:21:00.000-06:00

Important Update

My hair looks awful.
I'm ruined!!

2006-03-20T19:16:00.000-06:00

This is So Addicting

For geeks who get wet for dialouge:

Bombay TV
Make your very own Bollywood film.

Here are some I've made:
http://www.grapheine.com/bombaytv/play_uk.php?id=928730
http://www.grapheine.com/bombaytv/play_uk.php?id=928760
http://www.grapheine.com/bombaytv/play_uk.php?id=928783

2006-03-20T12:19:00.000-06:00

Goodbye Bright Red Hair

Today I am bleaching all the red away.

So I'll look like a harmless white trash girl and no longer an art school freak.

No one will hire me with hair so obnoxiously red. And I'm trying to move out April 1st, so I need more money. Bla bla bla.. there is no excuse. I'm doing what you kids call "selling out."

I'll post some pictures later.

2006-03-19T11:56:00.000-06:00

Reclusive

Stayed in the last 2 nights.
Out of apathy, fear of people, lack of $.
I regret it.

Woke up bored with a headache, having slept too long.
This is not like me. Somethings wrong.