Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Best Post Party Text

" Has anyone seen my credit card and/or shoes/ keys?"
three hours later I got
"never mind, found them outside my door step "

Saturday, August 27, 2011


As Hurricane Irene prepares to batter the East Coast, federal disaster officials have warned that Internet outages could force people to interact with other people for the first time in years. Residents are bracing themselves for the horror of awkward silences and unwanted eye contact. FEMA has advised: “Be prepared. Write down possible topics to talk about in advance. Sports...the weather. Remember, a conversation is basically a series of Facebook updates strung together.”
don't just turn heads, break necks

Friday, August 26, 2011

Does it make me a bad person

if I'm using okcupid as a source of entertainment? And am mostly laughing at these poor fools if not completely horrified by their lack of spelling and grammar? bahahahhahahhahahaaaa


about highshine lipglosses. I have basically never seen it done right. Usually it looks like a chick just got done giving a BJ and got the biggest cum load of her life. 

I Still Run This Thing Like A Dance Hall Queen

i really dont want no hassel

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Gonna Go Out On A limbe Here

And get one of those online dating profiles. Not because I actually plan on going out with any of these dudes...but my curiosity is tickled by this whole other world of dating. I have judged harshly others who do do it, but they say don't judge before you walk a mile in someone else's shoes. So all I can say is get ready for the fuckery.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


STDs and republicans, they both include getting fucked raw in the ass

It's Funny

what people do and say when they think no one is looking....

Lose Lose Situation.

As I was sitting outside having a beer with one of my bfs last night she asked me, 'what's going through your head?' due to the bizarre and confused look on my face. I told her, honestly, what the fuck. These are the three little words that have been buzzing around my head for say, the past two months. What. The. Fuck. There is a shit show going around me, or a circus of flying fucks that some whippet fucker is trying to juggle. Can I please get out of this situation? Because no matter what I do I seem to land in a pile of massive bullshit.
I have been so kindly asked to co-curate a show in the city, however the horny fucker hasn't got his shit together enough to wipe front to back. I ask myself, how, oh how, am I supposed to reach out to my contacts and get shit rolling with this mobile dildo? The opportunity is amazing, I should be doing backward flips on a cloud of confetti right now, but the devil child inside me is demonically laughing at the fact that I would assume something good would happen to me. My only other choice in life is to hide in a dark corner and never again see the light of day, or to embrace my train wreck of a life. Every time I try to go to my corner, I get distracted by something shiny. Fuck that.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

You Know Your Fucked

When you make it 100% clear to a honey that you are only interested in sex, no strings attached, no commitments, and he still tells you he can't get "romantically involved" with you, due to his own personal issues and needs time alone and 'scale it back a bit'. I admit, I am an intense person, it comes with the territory. There is a whole lot of crazy in this tiny package but hey, who want's to be around completely sane people all the time anyway. Boring.
The fuckery ensues.
No seriously, I go and find the most airy, floozy, I possibly can, who would never worry about commitment or relationship bullshit, and still I get this BS. I don't even want to cuddle.
Now I would say, perhaps it's the sex, but I have had enough experience to know that it is deff not that. I'm a champ in bed and I have been told so a million times. So the only explanation is that my life is fucked. Simple as that. Or perhaps not that simple. UGH....

Monday, August 22, 2011

Remember When...

When the boy you love gives you a rusty key. When the bed smells like him and whisky, when you can't move in the morning because your fell to hard last night. When there is glitter in his hair and lipstick smear on your cheek and you both still look beautiful. When you crawl towards each other in the morning in bed because you somehow got untangled in your sleep, and you hid in the shadows because the sun hurts your eyes. When you use his shampoo and you smell like him all day and it makes you want to smoke cigarettes and watch film noir all day. When your still young enough to think that somewhere down the line life will become easy.
- 2010

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Point Taken

No matter where you go, your shit will follow you. As they say, where ever you go, there you are. Or some shit like that. I left the city for about a week (gasp) to 'get away from shit' and all I got was a bunch of bug bites and my giant bag of shit.
Let's move on to talk about the fuckery that seems to incessantly follow me where ever I go. I had the privilege of meeting (yet another) collage drop out musician. And there this poor sad fuck is working at some rich bitch arts camp spiting his broke ass game at me. The kind of snub nosed prick who's taken one philosophy class and now thinks he knows all there is too know and paid enough attention in his poly-sci class to give me the wikipedia definition of socialism and goes on and on about the inter connectedness of 'it all'. Yea okay buddy. I'm fuckin swept off my feet your such a goddamn genius. For fucks sake what is it with these stoners and me, I'm like some kind of a magnet for them. If I have to hear one more speech from a ignorant fool with a half ass education and a case of relentless verbal diarrhea my ears will piss blood.
so over it.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

And this notion just crossed my mind....

Kinda feels like...
Driving that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones is ready, watch your speed.
Trouble ahead, trouble behind, and you know that notion just crossed my mind.

This old engine makes it on time, leaves Central Station about a quarter to nine.
Hits River Junction at seventeen to, at a quarter to ten you know it's traveling again.
Driving that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones is ready, watch your speed.
Trouble ahead, trouble behind, and you know that notion just crossed my mind.

Trouble ahead, lady in red, take my advice you'd be better off dead.
Switchman's sleeping, train hundred and two is on the wrong track and headed for you.
Driving that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones is ready, watch your speed.
Trouble ahead, trouble behind, and you know that notion just crossed my mind.

Trouble with you is the trouble with me, got two good eyes but you still don't see.
Come round the bend, you know it's the end, the fireman screams and the engine just gleams
Driving that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones is ready, watch your speed.
Trouble ahead, trouble behind, and you know that notion just crossed my mind.
Driving that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones is ready, watch your speed.
Trouble ahead, trouble behind, and you know that notion just crossed my mind.
And you know that notion just crossed my mind.

Sunday, August 14, 2011


FAB*, There is nothing worse then a fake blond as there is a fake blond with roots coming in. While were on the subject, please do something about those eyebrows, you aren't fooling anyone. In fact you should also do something about the carpet that dosen't match the drapes, it's got to be mortifying to have that be the give away. It would be ideal for you to actually just give up on this silly venture of trying to be something your not, but I guess that would just too much to ask of you to appreciate the way you look as you are...at least sleep on it.

* FAB - Fake Ass Blond


What I don't get is when chicks drop mad cash on some prissied out face cream/wash etc. Not gonna lie I used to be all about that shit. Getting the most expensive shit like I got money trees growin in the backyard, but then I started to look at the ingredients. Like you have got to be real backwards to not realize that the shit they put in those microscopic sized jars that are only really usable by Thumbalina is shit you can get from CVS or grow yourself. Yea I said it, CVS. I started to grow my own herbs and spices, extracting oil from lavender, kumquats, jasmine, making vanilla and herb extracts. Lemme tell you a little gardening goes a long way. And you KNOW that shit is organic. Yea fuck you whole foods.  You want a good toner? It's called witch hazel, add some lavender oil to that bitch and BAM call me Elizabeth Arden why don't you. You want a good purifier that's gonna cleans your pores and get rid of your acne, tea tree oil. Cleans that shit right up like a Mexican with a duster. Face cream? Well I ain't tryna give away all me recipes but jojoba oil, coconut butter and fat free milk go a long way. I am proud to say that I no longer own a single facial product that I haven't concocted on my own. And my skin is at it's prim right now. That's saying a lot considering the shit I put in my body and lack of water in my system. Here is my point, you really give a fuck about your skin? Then do yourself a favor and read the damn ingredients. And trust me, whale sperm or gold dust in your itty bitty ass jar of face cream ain't really doin shit cept makin you look like a damn fool and feeding those money grubbing foriegn fucks who are putting this bullshit on the market.
You know what my mother used to do to get my hair thick and soft? Every damn weekend the crazy broad would make me sit with olive oil in my damn hair for two hours. She deff had the right idea because Paul Mitchell/Pureology/Keratin-whatever-the-fuck-its-called can suck a fat one that shit ain't half as good as some good old extra virgin olive oil. I ain't buyin what your sellin buster. I gave you a shot and you made me go soft.
BTW Tom's deodorant is a straight up scam. Fuck that.
On the subject of scams, how about this new fad with selling lavender/jasmine/patchouli perfumes like this is some new brilliant idea of using natural oils as perfumes. get. the. fuck. out. of. here. I hope to god that people start catching on soon to the fact that you can buy that shit at a fuckin yoga store for ten bucks a pop if your not equipped with a green thumb and the brains to just make the damn thing yourself. Seriously ladies, with the shit your buying into these days, I'm worried, I'm genuinely worried for the well being of this nation.

I'm sweet like licorice, dangerous like syphilis

I gots one of these things too so you can follow me on there:

Saturday, August 13, 2011

The Voice of Reason

"i liked this when this was fun. and now it aint fun cause u want me to work. if i wanted to work i woulda gotten a job. so thank you very much. please leave... and get the garbage on ur way out"

New Terms

Relationshit (real-a-shun-shit): a relationship that is complete shit, to the point where it is not even worthy the name of a relationship, it is utter shit. It is the union of shit into the demise of further shit to the point of being nothing but complete and utter shit.

this entry was called "woah just woah" but now I'm changing it to "Beware: innapropriate usage of the word 'fuck'"

When they say life is a roller coaster they are not fucking around. I've had so many ups and downs within the past 36 hours I feel like an elevator at the empire state building. Woozy and a little over used. As a professional party goer with a BA in getting rinsed (word cred goes to another party goer, wish I could take it but it ain't mine) I've composed a small list of things you really ought not to do and things you really should do.

Don't take off your shirt. No matter what, do not, I repeat, do not take off your shirt.
Eat before you down that bottle of cheap whiskey.
Try your best to not be the last person to leave the scene of the party, it's incriminating.
Call your mom.
When that broken ass homie at the end of the bar starts to look like Robert Downey Jr or who ever else tickles your fancy, it's probably time to shuffle your sloppy ass over to your responsible friend and ask with your inside voice if you could get some help getting your sorry self home.

Get a responsible friend. These are rare but crucial creatures.
Always have at least four different cab companies on your speed dial. Shit gets rough.
Befriend your bartender, you don't have to hoe it out to ever sucker to get free drinks. Tip well, learn their name, say thanks, don't be a jackass and reach over the bar shouting "ay gimme a yourchoiceofposion" and they generally like it when you ask to do a shot with them. Watch, by your third round drinks are on the house. It's basic alcoholics politics.
Most people don't know this but you can almost always get away with smoking indoors after a certain hour depending on the bar and night. If caught, well just don't be a dumb ass and get caught.
People you really ought to get to know: 1. bouncers (I don't do lines, I simply refuse. If there is a line and your not letting me skip it to get in, fuck that.) Best way to befriend the scary ass mofo who looks like he eats babies for breakfast and drinks unicorn blood instead of water is to go out for a cigg and strike up a convo with the BFG, and don't be a jackass and be fake. People are interesting, you can hear some pretty cool stories if you give them the chance.
2. Bartenders, as explained previously.
Your golden ticket is the manager or owner. Unfortunately they lurk in some hidden corner and tend to have a giant stick up their ass so getting one is kinda like hunting for mosquitoes, it could bite you in the ass (did you know those fuckers are the cause of over two million deaths per year?? and yea I read wikipedia when I'm bored, what?) .
Let's also talk about heels. Heels are cool, sure. You know whats not cool? A stumbling broke ass bitch who keeps falling over due to the toxicity levels in her blood stream and the retarded fashion statement in the form of a pair of heels. Ladies you hear people saying know your limits, that's not limited to drinking and extreme sports. It extends itself to the amount of dicks in your vag and other such orifices, and the inches you sport. This is real talk. If I have to see one more broad sprawled out in the middle of the street because her dumb ass fell over on 'em 9 inch stilettos and now she's got her hoochie hangin out about town like it's the fuckin' Halloween parade of 91' I'm gonna rape her in the eyeball and inject her with aids. real. fucking. talk.
I've already expressed my contempt for clothing that's too short. Genitalia need not a coming out party, shit ain't no debutant, don't need to be introduced to the world, we all got one, I know what it looks like I don't need to be reminded thank you very much. Same goes for ass and titties, the world is not your stripper pole. And nobody is even paying you. That is one sad ass look.
Moving on to the fuckery of old men and young chicks, really? It never ceases to disturb me.
Or how about the super short chick with the super tall dude. I just really don't see how that works, do they carry around like a portable ladder in order to have conversation? The odds are against you guys, sorry to burst your bubble.
okay this is just turning into a ramble of my disdain for people in general so I'll stop now and save some for later.
Ciao (only douche bags say this <<, if you hear someone saying it, its a douche bag alert)

Friday, August 12, 2011


Jesus I get when the shit hits the fan it really fucking hits the fan. And who ever you are up there that is in charge of this shit show you really are making sure that fuckery ensues in all aspects of my life. 
Men are pigs; any glimpse I see of redeeming quality is immediately shot down by some sort of atrocious retarded behavior. 
I would say that I'm refraining for a while from these fuckers but we all know that isn't/can't happen. If nothing it's the 60 year old drunk at the bar tryna mac it to me.  

Thursday, August 11, 2011


Dickhead, don't send a girl an outrageous five page text at three am after not talking to her for a month then not return her calls and not speak to her all of the following day and put off having a conversation to go hang out with your douche bag friend and get fucked up, and then decide to call her at some ungodly hour of the night, breathing creepily into the phone because you don't have the balls to say shit.
Granted half of it is my fault for allowing said douche bag to treat me this way and get me all wound up...but I mean...comon! I was doing so well, getting over the shit head without any major breakdowns or embarrassing outbursts of my hatred towards men. In fact the opposite, I grabed life by the nut sack and milked that bitch for what it was worth. I mean, I been meeting people, going to concerts, going to openings, taking art classes, painting, talkin' to some honeys, the whole nine yards. But of course life just has to go and take a giant shit on my face. How could I expect anything different.
Moral of the story being, go call your mother.

Shitty Titty


Okay so I'm not the fashion police, however, when I see trash, I call it how it is.Now let me start off by saying that summer is a great time for women; we can show some skin, our hair has an extra shimmer to it, our skin starts to turn slightly gold or a perfectly cute pink, our eyes seem to have more then one shade of color and we just look like goddesses in general. HOWEVER. There is ALWAYS that one chick who fucks it all up. The trashy chick. Here is the deal, bras, were ment for support, not to sport. Keep that shit under the shirt. Now a little lace here and there is okay, perhaps a slightly see through shirt with a cute bra under can pass if done right, but lettin that shit just all out, u-uh. And please know your body type, if you have saggy tits, dont take of your shirt off to confirm what we already know, especially not if you are not wearing the proper equipment to lift those sand bags up a little. Gravity is not your friend saggy tits chick. And the whole "if you can't fight it join it" motto is completely unsuitable for this problem. I dont care what you have to do, get a fork lift if you must, just keep that shit in check, I don't want to be seeing dried raisins populating the streets of this already fucked up city. I know it's summer time and you want to let lose, but please don't disturb the peace with your indecent exposure. 
Oh and let's also talk about short shorts. Now these "shongs" /"thorts" (thong+shorts) are great on our gazelle Gisele with 0 cellulite at 5'10, 36-24-35, and look fantastic on airbrushed models, HOWEVER, fashion is sometimes misleading. Often the pudgy tink likes to make an appearance at these fashion disasters (Scarlett Johansson is my favorite example of the celebrity pudgy tink, see below if you need confirmation). Lookie here, no body is perfect, except for victoria secret angels, so please, if you spot cellulite, or as I like to call it, matres syndrom, orange peel victime and crates of wrath, then I suggest you put down those thorts, hit the gym, and don't leave until you get ride of every single one of those grand canyons. OR you can be like a decent fucking human being and just get a normal pair of shorts which you can avoid camel toe and (if you still havent mastered the front to back maneuver) skid marks with. Reality check people, shorts are shorts, thongs are thongs, nobody wants to see your cellulite riden ass and labia majora hangin out around town. GET YOUR SHIT IN CHECK.

What is it with...

Men...rather boys, because it seems they never quite reach manhood. Lets see....I get dumped, find a new one, then the old one sends these grandiose messages at 3 am. Not mention new guy lets me know right of the bat that he is not "relationship material", seriously? At this point neither am I...
So what, it takes two months to have the senses kicked back into you and you realize you let the best thing walk out of your life. Here is your honorary medal of ultimate retardation, please join us for next years special Olympics as well.
As for "not relationship material" guy, okay, I hand it to you, I appreciate you being straight up and honest, but how about you tell me this say...after the third time we slept together and not the 10th...thanks. This is not to say I was even considering you for the role...actually the role has been eliminated from this shit show all together until further notice....

Hi, Hello!

I have often been encouraged that I ought to blog about my ridiculous encounters with men/restaurants/people and other atrocious affairs of my life in general. So here it is, I guess it begins....
Let me warn you, this is not a blog for the weak of heart and gentle souls, I'm not very nice.