AHA!

I finally figured out why I never get laid. I think it largely involves my making statements such as, "We are going to get fucked up and I am going to hit on anything bipedal."

*Nobody that gets laid uses the word "bipedal".

A Matter of Substance.

My blog is very honest. I never write about politics, or music, or movies. Not because I'm against that sort of thing. It's mostly because I'm out of the loop. I have no TV or newspaper, and I am far too lazy to research such things on the internet. The internet is used mostly for my oogling hot naked girls on suicideggirls.com or checking my myspace 10 times a day. I guess I could write about current events in the comic circut. Right now I am falling in love with Nyx. She is a marvel character with a skeleton plated in adamantium and claws, but she is not to be confused with Lady Death Strike or Wolverine. She is super hot, kinda gothy. Check her out if you dig the comics. Also, Slave Labor Graphics just started a new comic called Nightmares and Fairytales. It's pretty weak. In my opinion they have been going downhill since Johnny the Homicidal Maniac.

There we go. I am now officially the biggest dork alive. Ever.

The Raver days

I'm abondoning a lifetime of convention for a job based on fiction, or as they say in the buisness, "based on truth under imaginary circumstances." Theater. I'm going to be a professor. A professor of beautiful fiction. I could live in a world of beautiful fictions. I think I do. Seeing as how a majority of my time I'm only surround myself with books and plays. I get to write a play for my senior thesis. I wonder which story I'll tell or "embellish". I have stories to last me a lifetime. One of my favorites is my first rave. the raver days...


We were 14 and it was Halloween night. My best friend Nicole and I had our friend drop us off in the St. Jude parking lot around 9pm. We figured that a church parking lot would be safest on Halloween night, although G-d knows why. There we were, two fourteen year old girls, alone in a parking lot in the dark scared and paranoid. I was the good kid. I never lied. Tonight I told my folks I was staying at Nicole's. I was sure G-d was going to strike me down for this one. I was waiting for the sudden lightening bolt.


First, we sat and put on pounds of silly raver make-up. Pink and purple eyeshadow, hot pink lipstick, and we glittered our bodies until it looked like we got attacked by some angry fairies. Then came the outfits. I was wearing a huge pair of hot pink UFO's with a black shirt that was really small enough to be a handkerchief, silver wings, and a hot pink wig. And tons of candy (for those not familiar with raver lingo, candy are those multicolored bracelets and necklaces that ravers wear). Nicole was in a pair of silver UFO's with a black tiny tank top and a small black hoodie. Her hair was platinum blonde and blacklight responsive. All of this was hour one.


Our ride counldn't pick us up until 12:30, so this left us with a considerable amount of time to kill before the main event. "We could tell scary stories." suggested Nicole. "When we are alone and already paranoid of getting caught on Halloween night? I don't think so." I replied. "Fine. Let's go play on the playground then." she said. We walked over to the playground area. Nicole ran ahead then suddenly stopped in her tarcks. I thought my heart stopped for a moment. She whispered something and turned and started running full speed past me back around the back side of the building. I bolted after her my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. "W-w-what was it?" I asked breathlessly. "Did you say "Dad"?" I asked. "No, I said Dog." She replied. "It was a guy walking his dog. I don't know if he saw me." she whispered. "It's ok. We'll go check in a minute." I replied. Nicole had been leaning against the building and she slide down into a sitting position. I fell into a sit beside her. We sat for a while trying to slow our breathing. Once it was back to normal, Niocole began laughing histerically.


"What's so funny?" I demanded. "Us." she laughed. "We are just being stupid. We aren't gonna get caught." she said as if to reassure herself. "So, what do you think about this beanie?" she asked. She put a grey wool cap on and turned her head from side to sied to model it. Suddenly a floying black figure swooped down and got caught in her hat. We both started screaming. "OMIGOD WHAT IS IT?" screamed Nicole. "I THINK IT"S A BIRD." I shouted. "GET IT OFF!!!" "I CAN'T IT'S STUCK!" More screaming. Nicole threw the hat with the writhing bird on the ground. The bird finally freed itself and flew away. At this point we were holding each other for dear life. "I knew it." I said. "I lied, and now I'm being punished. I knew it." We finally clamed ourselves a second time and found a quiet corner to wait in until our ride arrived. By that time we were both horribly on edge.

"Tell...me...all...your...dirty little secrets....."
is a great song.


Once I met a guy and he said I should punch him. I gave him a glove, took my stance and said, "ok". Assuming he would at least block... I clocked him square in the jaw. Hard. "You hit me!?!" he said. "That's when you fell in love." I replied.

People...

and their blogs....Oh man. Everyone has a blog. And not just a blog, a shiny, pretty blog. My blog's not shiny or pretty. I sometimes even doubt if this one has the heart. It's true blog. I'm sorry. I wouldn't cry if all this got deleted. I cried for a good half hour when I deleted my blogs. Mostly because i only meant to delete one. It made me feel like I had blown up a memorial. None of it was saved. Over a year of my life, gone down the drain. It was a damn good year for writing. Love, loss, happiness, and heartbreak. That year should have been a book. It's gone now. It only exists in my memory, but there's something undeniably different about writing when the feelings are fresh. re-living emotions is just never the same. People and their blogs, I tell ya. No one in their right mind even reads this.

WTF!?!

I just finished a crap Sociology paper on "Social Interactionism". The last sentence (I kid you not) said, "Dull existence if you ask me." How the fuck am I passing? On my last paper I wrote a completely irrelevant story about my politically incorrect parents when I think the topic was somwthing along the of whether or not Social Structure is determined by Culture. Oh, man. I remember how I used to get really excited about schoolwork. I used to prep and finish assignments days ahead of time, then revise. Ha! I almost want to show my Sociology professor my transcripts from State just so he knows that I really am smart when I'm stimulated. GIVE ME INTELLECTUAL STIMULATION!!! PLEASE! MY BRAIN IS MELTING!!!

Busted!

I think my school finally caught on to my "borrowing" their site for free web hosting. This means no new pictures for a while. Oops.



I just got back from a wedding in Maryland. While I was there I realized that I somehow managed to sneak a small knife in my purse through Atlanta airport security. I love the USA. Actually, once I found it I was just really glad I didn't get arrested. I opted to leave the knife in Maryland for the flight home because we had to fly our of D.C. and I really didn't want the feds after my ass. I'm sure they already have some sort of files on me somewhere. Not, like I ever cause trouble that is...I'm a model citizen. Riiight....

I Must Be Dreaming.

My life is finally getting better. The best it's been in the last 3 years. It's about fucking time. I came in to work bawling the other day. Happy crying. If you don't know, happy crying is the most idiotic thing on the planet. Only I couldn't stop. I finally got it. I get a second chance. Better get out all my kninks before hand. I always start all of my sad stories with "Once Upon a Time..." It makes them more bearable. My auto biography begins in "Once Upon a Time..." Only this time, my "Once Upon a Time..." is the best time in my life.

Once Upon a Time I got into school for opera singing. I loved singing more than life itself, more than my family, more than my friends, more than breathing. Then 2 weeks before I was supposed to leave I found out it was too expensive to go. Then came all the bad shit. I lost the love of my life. I was alone and abused, sleeping in a car with no electricity. I started dancing, and running around with a group of people scary enough to make sure no one would ever fuck with me. Then one dark night I thought I was going to be cut up into bits and left in a ditch. He did his worst, beat me up, and tossed me out. And I survived. I didn't tell anyone I just acted like a tornado. Until now.

They have a piano, I get to take voice lessons, and my dog can come. I get to fall in love with Opera, Plays, and books again. They don't think I'm crazy or a failure. I'm going to remember this forever. This is the day I got saved.