kissing on contact

Thu, 30 Jun 2005 10:45:35 GMT

why is b.colg the only one tha tunderstands me?

Sat, 11 Jun 2005 21:24:09 GMT

why does coffee make me so high? in a really shaky sort of way? not even an amphetamine sort of way, but a fuck-this-caffeine-is-making-me-tremor-and-ive-only-had-two-cups sort of way. gah, i guess i'll take a giant shit and do the dishes, then.

not meant to be a really deep thought

Sat, 11 Jun 2005 18:45:37 GMT

last night while walking down 34th street i saw the side of a homeless man's face. i thought to myself, "any one of these men could be my father." i paused for a second, and caught a glimpse of his face, frontally. we made eye contact. his gaze held mine for a second longer than i felt comfortable and i hastened my pace. i noticed the police officers in their permanent post, at the long island rail road entrance to penn station. i felt a twinge of that false sense of security [or insecurity, depending on your position] you feel whenever you see a cop. i went down the escalator and bought my ticket and boarded the train. i was sitting in my seat for about two minutes when i noticed a shadow towering above my seat. at first i thought it was some dude that was gonna get cute and try to sit down next to me (there were like 30 open seats in the car), but when i looked up i realized that it was the homeless man from the street. he had followed me down to my train. he tried saying something to me but it was incomprehensibile. he was white, blue eyes, wore shorts and a blue du-rag. he was carrying two garbage filled with something. his belongings, presumably. he was of an unidentifiable age. i got up and said "excuse me?" really forcefully. he muttered something again, something i couldn't make out. i must've resorted to my primal instinct, standing up, making myself appear larger to other animals. less afraid. i left my seat and found another in the next car.

there are some central americans speaking spanish outside my window. i know they're from central america because basically all of the esquineros on long island are from there. susan's dad is an independent contract electrician and he drives a white van to his jobs in queens and brooklyn. a lot of the time he'll pass a group of day laborers standing on a corner somewhere in queens, and often they'll mistake his van for the white van that picks them up for jobs in the morning. sometimes in hopes of getting work they'll run after the van despite his "no, no, no, i'm not your guy" gesturing. i wonder what they think of america, or what they think of the overweight uneducated housewives who call them 'mexicans', despite their country or even region of origin. so many americans (my rich, educated, republican-voting stepfather included) hardly view them as much other than an "undocumented." i'm not trying to say anything pivotal here, nor am i trying to make any sweeping claims of social injustice, or even any sort of jilted social commentary -- but as i was listening to them speak outside of my window, i watched them for a little bit, and i thought about how many white middle class americans tucked away in their vinyl siding [with airconditioning and digital cable] actually view these people as that of real people? people with mothers, children, lovers, hates, desires, anger, love? probably not many. i know this because i think that way, too, sometimes. same with the homeless man the other night -- these people that we render humanless, people not deserving of mutual human respect, attention. whatever, i'm essentially a stupid white girl too.

Fri, 10 Jun 2005 19:48:32 GMT

no amount of exfoliation, dousing my skin in lemon juice/and or peroxide will make this newfound vitiligo go away. it looks like i'm going to be banished to a world of closed toed shoes and long paints for the duration of this self tanning disaster. my feet look roughly like this.

brian says that my michael jackson skin disease is the reason i'm all about babies and children these days. he could be right.

Fri, 10 Jun 2005 06:42:52 GMT

Thu, 09 Jun 2005 22:42:37 GMT

me and my mom on the cape may ferry - september 86
[i sort of look like a demon child but my momma looks hottt]

Thu, 09 Jun 2005 20:18:21 GMT

best google image search query ever

Thu, 09 Jun 2005 19:59:28 GMT

people whose mothers once held their sweaty baby faces tight against their breast with mollifying "shh shh shhs" and an innately maternal rocking. this woman in penn station held a crying baby tight against her chest, rocking and soothing it. i watched that woman and thought about what it means to be a mother. your mother, my mother, anyones mother, but mostly yours. and your contorted wet crying baby face. your small baby back and baby spine and baby skull. soft hair and big trusting eyes. how scary it must be to be a mother. to bring life to this being that lives inside of you, to let go and release them into the world as an individual, autonomous from you.

i love seeing baby pictures of people. i find it helps me understand their faces better.

my mother's boyfriend writes her cute love letters on america online and uses all sorts of aol-enabled clip art (red caligraphic hearts, animated kissing lips). she prints them out and now theres one sitting in the trashbin cause its stained from water or coffee and the ink started to run. he talked about making his ex wife cry because he is not going back to her because he loves my mother, and how she is the woman for him, and not her. his ex wife's name is fran. for some reason this is signficant. it makes me very sad. my mother says i have the heart of a social worker which really means nothing other than getting paid $25,000 a year to feel bad for people.

last night susan came over and we stayed up till 8am watching all of six feet under but then that got too depressing so we tried to watch sex and the city to lighten things up but it was the season where samantha gets diagnosed for breast cancer and there was just no relief. essentially art imitates life and life imitates tv.no amount of soul numbing infomercials will eliminate the fact that the world is filled with pain, death and dying. life is pain. pain pain pain. but in the end it is death that makes life important, what makes it worth living, right?

Thu, 09 Jun 2005 00:04:12 GMT

i want these both to be mine. unfortunately that would cost about $1000.

Wed, 08 Jun 2005 17:21:41 GMT

i am at this boring ass library doing grant research for the tank and i seriously can't make myself do a goddamn thing. i can't be productive ever. at least when it comes to reading irs 990 filings. BORING. but anyway, during my morning walk through chelsea i came to a few conclusions:

i will never fuck someone that owns an ipod again. or at least some douche that parades around with white headpones like it still matters. i want to spray paint my ipod headpones hot pink. this would make me different, and as a result, better.

some nasty dude on 8th ave stared at my tits (theyre sort of flopping in the breeze today, too hot for a brasierre) and then muttered something offensive. i didn't catch what he said, i'm really interested to know, but i couldn't be like "what?" so unfortunately i just kept walking. this is not really any sort of life realization/conclusion, but i figured i'd record it anyway.

oh, also:

i need a legitimate sugar daddy. this is what i'm looking for
above 40
salt n pepper hair, maybe even a dignified white
decent body
optional: framless glasses, i want the educated wall street/newscaster look (sans heavy makeup)
fat cock
even fatter wallet
someone who will buy me dinners and also henri bendel.
someone who will also rent me an apartment is a big plus.
viagra OK.

i realize that this would make me a semi-bonafide whore but personally i don't care. i briefly really considered becoming an independent contract whore the other day but then i changed my mind. neil told me he would paypal me $50/wk to not become a hooker. cause then i would always have to say that i've been paid for sex. on polygraphs and shit. but whatevers, anytime you let him pay for dinner you're doing the same damn thing. right. not really but every stripper uses that as their defense so i figured i would too.

i really want a dog, again. i'd be into
a pug
a french bulldog
any kind of bulldog
a charpei
another schnauzer
a welsh terrier
or even a really tiny lapdog
i just miss the touch and feel of a canine.
my cats sort of suck ass.

Wed, 08 Jun 2005 12:58:51 GMT

ugh. don't ever use neutrogena sunless airbrush piece of shit mist tanner crap. seriously that shit blows. it's awful. i only did it on one leg and now i look like i have the michael jackson skin disease. NEVER AGAIN.

:(

sea shores

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 23:32:05 GMT

the garden state parkway is a fucking scam. its really pitiful that i haven't given in and gotten an ez pass already. hoping the floor of my car offers enough change to throw in the toll basket is basically the story of my life.

went to the jersey shore the other day and it was quiet, pleasant and foggy as hell. but beautiful. drove back in the passenger seat while it thundered, lighting-ed and poured rain and then partied with no pants on. mission on becoming a huge alcoholic: only partly accomplished. mission on giving up pot and cigarettes: not even halfway accomplished. im sorry, vices. i love you too much.

after driving through manhattan and queens in the balls out heat (my ac totally decided to stop working yesterday. its fun to pretend to have a convertable whilst drive down the garden state with the windows open and music blaring) i decided to visit long island's beautiful garbage can and homeless seagull infested barrier beaches and it was cold and windy and i got some major exfoliation action on account of the major sandstorm that pulverized me and my beach blanket.

oh, and i now owe the city of northampton $86 for all my retarded oh-shit-my-car-is-illegally-parked-again! moves. i am awesome.

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 05:09:15 GMT

my head on his chest feels like waves of the ocean. on the deck of a whaling ship wishing for drammamine.

Mon, 06 Jun 2005 07:09:48 GMT

i am quitting cigarettes and pot and just becoming a huge alcoholic. ok? sweet.

Mon, 06 Jun 2005 03:21:12 GMT

today was gorgeous. and hot as balls. and my allergies were paralyzing. but it was a good day. [didn't even have to use my ak] daniel, however, has a serious penchant for crossdressing, as evidenced by the accompanying image, in which he manages to pull off my outfit, consisting of a dior t-shirt too-big-for-me seven jeans:

and he wonders why men offer to suck him off every other day.

Sat, 04 Jun 2005 17:14:07 GMT

last night i dreamt strange things. i dreamt that i was in some unidentifiable place (unidentifiable now, i must've known where it was in my dream) and i came across this beautiful interactive art installation that used monofilament wire and spoons and water and it was really beautiful and ethereal and the water felt amazing, like i was rolling on mdma. i don't normally have dreams like that.

also drew was in my dream and so was her ex boyfriend and even though i havent met either of them she gave me a piggy backride for a really long time and then
her ex boyfriend had this awesome jeep and we were driving through some pretty rough terrain and it could've been scotland or somewhere beautiful yet rugged. and then i gave her a piggy back ride but not for as long as she gave me one and i felt bad about that.

i'm jealous of people with gainful employment.

Fri, 03 Jun 2005 01:19:10 GMT

You scored as The Quasi-Gothic Femme. You mope, you frown and you smoke cloves, but secretly you sometimes wish you could look like Gwen Stefani.

</td>

The Quasi-Gothic Femme

50%

The Surprise! Dyke

50%

The Stud

45%

The Vaginal-Reference-Making Dyke

45%

The Pretty-Boi Dyke

40%

The Femme Fatale

35%

The Student Dyke

25%

The Hipster Dyke

20%

The Bohemian Dyke

20%

The Sprightly Elfin Femme

20%

The Granola Dyke

10%

The Little-Boy Dyke

The Magic Earring Ken Dyke

What Type of Lesbian Are You? (Inspired by Curve Mag.)
created with QuizFarm.com

Thu, 02 Jun 2005 06:04:42 GMT

i went to "work" in last night's bikram yoga clothes and festered away in a library all day. for lunch i spent $2.25 on a slice of famous ray's (the original) pizza which burned the fuck out of the roof of my mouth. now i have flappy pieces of mouth roof hanging down that i can't stop tonguing. then tonight i hung out with the best person ever and it was wonderful. i really like it when i meet someone and then realize that theyre truly as cool as i thought they were. i have a thing for half boricua mamis from queenz named danielle. its awesome. i like smoking expertly rolled joints at fort totten and then talking about music for no reason.

oh, and driving home was really challenging.

Mon, 30 May 2005 19:14:07 GMT

hoboken is a pretty surreal place. its a pretty idyllic place, too. this is because i'm somehow less put off by the yuppie gentrification thing when it happens in new jersey. cause somehow the hudson river that separates one island from the mainland makes everything okay.

saw this young iraqi vet on saturday afternoon. the park was littered with people enjoying the first real hints of the impending summer. bikinis and beach chairs abound on this overly manicured grassy patch adjacent to the hudson river. he was just walking around talking to himself. he couldnt have been older than 28. he was just totally shellshocked, eight months, stationed in iraq repeated over and over again. he was by himself, clean cut and neatly dressed. people were actually talking to him, though, despite the fact that he was definitely bordering on insanity. thats cause its jersey and not new york city. its less of an anonymous abyss where everyone is so afraid of everyone else and godforbid someone actually tries to talk to you.

so yeah, happy memorial day.

Fri, 27 May 2005 08:51:21 GMT

brian's comment on the boy from 'who's the boss': yeah, he's like totally gay now. like, AIDS gay.

i don't know if 'jonathan' from whos the boss actually has aids or not, but it was just a qualifiier, in you know, explaining the extent of his gayness. like neil patrick harris gay. like, starring in rent gay. angels in america gay. you get the deal.

best line received from a bouncer in response to my totally mediocre real-but-false identification: 'ok i'll let you live'
shit dawg you're like all GOD up in this piece. goddamn. 4 months until a bouncer doesn't get the liberty of dangling my life right before my very eyes. maybe it'll make my 21st birthday like all the more special. or something. shit. i should like HAVE my first birthday drink at the mercury lounge for this very purpose.

Thu, 26 May 2005 23:40:49 GMT

true life: i have a friend with benefits should be renamed TRUE LIFE: I'M A PATHETIC NEEDY GIRL THAT HAS NO SOCIAL BAROMETER THAT LETS ME KNOW WHEN A GUY DOESN'T LIKE ME ANYMORE AND ITS CLEARLY TIME TO MOVE ON AND GET MY OWN LIFE.

so. fucking. sad.

also, did anyone see that i want a famous face: carmen electra? what the fuck is with mtv documenting the lives of these pathetic pathetic girls with their asshole douchebag boyfriends that they would do anything for? i mean, maybe having them on national television will serve as some sort of wake up HELLO! WTF ARE YOU DOING! call. i dunno, seeing yourself on videotape can be a very humbling experience. but regardless, these shows make me want to claw my eyeballs out and then throw myself infront of the next availible Q36 bus.

Thu, 26 May 2005 09:31:30 GMT

APPARENTLY YOU CANT EVEN APPLY FOR A JOB IN THE FOOD SERVICE INUDSTRY WITHOUT A GODDAMN HEADSHOT.
REASON #857 THAT I HATE NEW YORK.

half assed update

Tue, 24 May 2005 07:51:40 GMT

saturday night -- went to the opening of this lesbo bar in park slope called CATTYSHACK, brought to you by the previous owners of houston street's famed MEOWMIX. what's with all the feline references, people? let's just quit beating around the bush and just rename the next yuppie lesbian bar PUSSY PALACE. its about cutting to the point already. but anyway, there was an open bar and the drinks were decently strong and JD from le tigre was dj'ing which was pretty decent even though he/she played some fairly mediocre shit and i tried grabbing his/her ass after i was sufficiently liquored up but unfortunately i just ended up grabbing a handful of carhart canvas and not much cheek. oh well. oh, and the highlight of my night was probably the part where i ended up giving some 35-42 year old power suit wearing dyke my number. this will be hilarious when and if she calls. cause damn, i've always wanted to fuck an ellen.

sunday -- ended up going to hoboken at like 11pm to spend some time with walt whitman. this proved to be a swell time and well worth the sexual harassment experienced on the 33rd street path platform. i drank some imported beers and chainsmoked while being disappointed to learn that the lights on the empire state building (red, white and blue for fleet week!) went out two hours early. the vista from the other side of the hudson river really has nothing on your boring brooklyn rooftop view. hoboken is a trippy place. can there please be a grand theft auto: 201? most of the 'cities' in hudson county look like the type of fake cities you'd find in a video game. i fucking love it.

so i've been on this crazy life schedule that puts me at the opposite end of everything. i'm coming home when all the suits are going into work. i love looking like the homeless olsen twin at 8am while staring down victims of mens warehouse and anne taylor loft, with their morning ritualistic provisions, the WSJ and the lovely bones respectively. hi, i'm unemployed. it's depressing and hilarious at the same time.

i really wish i had flash on this computer cause i'd totally make an awesome animation featuring peaches' fuck the pain away as sweet background music to the bumping and grinding of various usweekly/in touch/star/people images of kevin federline.
(don't pretend to understand this)

should i freak out should i seek out

Sat, 21 May 2005 03:49:10 GMT

my fingertips smell like the garlic edamame i ate for dinner. smelling them now is making me hungry. last night while doing drugs in my car, i saw a kid i went to high school with sitting and smoking on the trunk of the car parked across the street. he's been friends with my across the street ex drug czar neighbor since 7th grade. this made for a very uncomfortable junior high experience. i guess getting verbally and sexually harassed everytime i left or entered my house gave me thick skin or something.

anyway, this sighting made me realize how i'm so tired of all the bullshit that goes along with dating someone from a small liberal arts college. perhaps thats too sweeping of a generalization. at the least, i'm ready to give up dating the kind of dude that uses SAT words in an email. like, you just used the word harangue in an email. i can't believe i enjoyed sucking your dick. i need to get high with more dudes from long island that smoke newports. seriously, can we drive around in your toyota camry (equipped with a spoiler) and can i sit silently in the passenger's seat while you conduct drug deals? i think that would fill the void in my soul. i was thisclose to calling my hpv-infected ex #1 (yes, there's more than one) who fits the above criteria but then i realized i never saved his number since i was too busy ignoring his calls/texts. color me desperate.

however, i finally realized who the mystery 202 cell # belonged to. i *67'd it the other night and listened to the mystery voice say "hello? hello? hello?" so many times that it made me laugh and almost reveal myself. i'm glad i didn't, though. however, i missed a decent show at the mercury lounge on account of my inability to act spontaneously, ever. time to [try to] act on my first boner of the fall 2004 semester.

if you smoke marlboro lights and you're a white female, you're basically worthless. you're basically the same thing as someone that self-identifies as politically 'moderate.' intellctually lazy. pathetic. but then again, i'm wearing my favorite 4" wedges that just beg for male attention. i even made eyes at the fat dude that was working at mr. jay's appliances. clearly i'm no better.

aziz ansari is a fucking badass

Wed, 18 May 2005 21:26:24 GMT

mmm i love gray's papaya because each time i burp its like reliving that wonderful gastronomical orgasm over and over again. man, nathan's doesn't have shit on gray's. at all.

last night the gothamist comedy show at tonic was decently hilarious and made many a witty reference to the vapidness and hilarity of new york city blog/celebrity culture. the lower east side is now renamed 'go fuck yourself.' i need a bleached asshole along with the charles in charge themesong as my ringtone. you just had to be there.

& then upon getting home i was met with the realization that i left my keys inside my house like the goddamn douchebag that i am. and since my mother literally takes 6 ambien before bed, no amount of incessant cellphone-landline-cellphone calling was able to rouse her to let me in. thankfully i have good friends that will pick me up, get me high and give me cigarettes and a place to sleep. along with a ride to the subway at 8:30 in the morning! i have good friends.

so i went to "work" this morning in last night's clothes, and by work, i mean a place where i go and spend several hours (without pay) putting really shitty art in bubble wrap and begging places like jp morgan and philip morris, sorry, altria, to write us fat checks since big tobacco loves supporting tiny non profit arts orgs. and after that, the pinnacle of my day was spent ingesting the best source of nitrates manhattan has to offer. (and now i want sushi.)