Thursday, February 26, 2009

gas station

The night I went over to your house, I was in pain.
My torso was bleeding and my leg felt as if it was about to break off. I poured the rest of my gin into the hole in my stomach while I was in the car, on my way there. I screamed out, hoping the feeling would never give in. The alcohol rumbled around my stomach like a hurricane and then filtered down, disapearing into my scarce, white legs. Tears burned down my cheek and I smiled, thanking God for creating such a powerful remedy.
I pulled my car into the gas station for some cigarettes, as I was now drunk as ever. A rich old woman pumping her gas shrieked at the sight of me and I was startled. A diamond rolled down her cheek. It soon turned to ice and crumbled away in bitter winter. She ran up in her high heels, knocked into me, and begged me to tell her why. I nearly fell over as I heard another crack in my leg. I told her, bluntly, that she was lost and should get the fuck away from me. She smacked me in the face as if I were her menace child and told me I was horribly selfish. The hand print blended in with the splattered red, already on my face. I laughed nervously as she got blood on her palms and sharp nails. She gasped again and turned away sobbing. I asked her what her name was and she told me it was Paris Balmain.
She had long and bright red hair that matched her black lined lips. She was cliche, old hollywood.
Her coat was huge and made of real furr.
She was wearing a champagne tinted gown underneath all the animal remains, that barely covered her aging purple skin. She looked like an alien who was lost her way to Mars.
She gave me one last look, got on her knees, and started rubbing the long diamond necklace that was hanging in between her fake tits.
I could tell she was a mother and a grandmother. A woman who was worse off than I was, even in my physical and mental state. She completely lost her mind. She realized there was feeling, past the saphires, expensive wine and getting fucked by the pool boy on her husband's silk sheets, swearing to God.

I could read her mind like a book.

I stumbled into the gas station, wandering aimlessly through the isles. I didn't know what I was looking for. My eyesight flickering on and off from the horrible smell of gasoline and rich bitch perfume that was still hanging in the air. I grabbed some sunglasses and put them on to keep my eyes in my sockets. My eyelashes were falling out. I was worried my eyes were next to go.
I wanted to leave. I wanted to get the blood out of my hair. I wanted to plug up the hole in my stomach. A wine bottle cork would do the trick, I thought to myself.

I was getting thinner by the minute. My skin was turning purple. I would look like Paris Balmain, if this got worse.
I stumbled up to the clerk and begged him to give me his t-shirt and a pack of cigarettes. He looked at me with his dark eyes and jittery hands, and trembling. I realized that I was scaring him like I did the rich bitch outside. I began to take his shirt off of him myself. I asked him if he wanted my money and he looked at me like he had never been touched by a woman all his life. I reached into my pocket to put my cigarettes away and I crouched away, to not startle him any longer.

Because we both knew I was something else.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

your name is....

If I talk to another woman today that is named Barb or Barbara...I might go nuts.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

my my my

My job is ruining my life.
That is all.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Thanks Beyonce...

Did you know that a Diva is a female version of a husstla? I never knew that. Thanks Beyonce.

I saw the "Diva" video and fell in love with these shades.

my long, random weekend.

Justin and I are going to start hanging out again, as friends.
I hung out with him this weekend.
We had a few heart to hearts. Had some drinks.
Completely ignored v-day. Which is really empowering.
I remember the days when valentines day was kinda a huge deal.
I totally forgot until it was, like, 4 oclock on Saturday.

It's kinda sucks though because all Justin and I do is eat when we hang out. So I'm getting fat again. I need to go on that cayanne pepper, lemon juice, and syrup diet. I'm sure it's the most unhealthy thing you can do to yourself...but I just want to be able to fit into my clothes again, dammit.

Revelation : I need to stop caring what people think and be more confident in the choices I make for myself, despite what others think I should do. It's just a stage of growing up. My true friends will be there for me no matter what choices I make, and have been. I'm lucky enough to have Katie and Alicia in my life. They let me live my life and no matter what, they will be there for me. Like Charlies Angels. We fight crime...have great hair...and love Twilight. Were a bunch of twenty something tweens.

Katie said I could murder someone and she would still be my friend. I've been waiting for her to say that. All I want in life is to murder someone and still have a friend to talk to it about with. It's the american dream.

I feel you, kittycupcakemuffinaby.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Dear Chris Brown,

You are fired...and an idiot.

for my bday

My birthday is coming up very soon.
I want these things [admittingly in the know that some things are far fetched.] :

- Andy Samberg in a leotard and heels
- bottle of Sambuca literally with my name on it
- blue wig
- yarn
- canvas
- paint
- records
- new shirt
- bottle of gin
- ravioli from Bravos
- instructional dance video for Beyonces "Single Ladies"
- Robert Pattinson, to have sex with. [below]

Thursday, February 12, 2009

these days.

I just got back from Seattle/Oregon about a week ago. It was so much fun. I loved every minute of it. The west coast is a different world. A beautiful one.
Airports are retarded. I mean, I'm glad we have security more strict than not...but I don't understand why they made me throw away a good amount of toilettre items...I bought a bunch of those little travel size body lotions, soaps and shampoos. They weren't in a ziplock baggy so I had to toss them...I was, needless to say, pissed off. They almost threw my makeup away too. Almost. They went through all my shit. Which is fine...I didn't have anything a huge vibrator or something. But it was a huge pain in my ass. I used to love going to the airport, until this trip. I should have known. I was just so tired, I was not in the mood.

The night I got back, I was really sick. I never thought being jet lagged would mess with my body as much and as long as I thought. It's been a week and I am finally getting my appetite back. I guess I left it up in the sky. Jesse swears he has it, because he can't stop eating. My whole system was thrown way off. My sleeping has been wierd too. It sucks! Plus, I've been a bit sad since I've been back. I went from gorgeous beaches and mountains to freezing, flat, snow covered Indiana.

happenings :

- 25 cent peep show [giggles]
- aquarium, I'm in love with otters and seals
- hostel, amazing...I met so many cool people in the smoking room
- Cha Cha bar
- vietnamese food...never try a quall eggs...yuck.
- Grey art gallery
- Canon Beach
- Haystack Rock
- My seagull friend, French Fry
- unfriendly cab drivers
- pinball machines out the ying yang
- china town

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Martin, you can be honest with me if you want too...I don't want your devils to hold me and haunt....