I started a Tumblr

I might end up switching my blog over to Tumblr, it has a much better set up... But for now it's just for quick posts that I don't think belong here: cute pictures, food I want to gorge myself on and funny things I find.

Fuck, I almost forgot

Kim Stolz. She's the only reason I watched cycle 5 of ANTM. She girled it up for quite a while after the show, but I prefer her butch and androgynous. I love a good genderqueer look.

Crushes of the Past and Present

Here is a list of crushes I've had over the years that never seem to go away. Why? Because I'm bored and don't feel like doing minutes for meetings that I hated attending in the first place. Re-listening to a meeting you already had to sit through once should be considered cruel and unusual punishment! Especially when that meeting refers to computer technical mumbo-jumbo that sounds more like a new strain of flu than what software we should update to in order to stay up to industry standards. Le sigh...

Boy Crushes:

Leonardo Dicaprio. At the age of 12 this was the pinnacle. I had his picture everywhere, and wrote his name on every notebook I could get my hands on. I collected every Teen Beat, People and Sixteen that dared to mention his name. It was unhealthy, but it was my life.

Adrien Brody. This man is beautiful, I don't care what you say.

Kurt Cobain. Ever since I was little. This will never change.

Jason Segel, Seth Rogen, Paul Rudd. Just take out Jonah Hill. I've never seen a single movie or tv show that any on these guys have been involved with and not loved it. I'd be so down for any of them, which is huge because even though I have crushes on dudes, I'd never do any of them becaues penises are foreign and gross to me; so much so that I had to spell check "penises" because I wasn't sure how to spell it .

Girl Crushes:

Kate Moennig. For real, this is the biggest crush I have ever had except for Leo when I was 12. I legit just spent 20 minutes looking at pictures of her on Google because I could. She's my freebie, where by some miracle I was to ever come across her in real life and have a chance to sleep with her I could without fault. Haley and I agreed. Just like she can sleep with Lily Loveless.

Audrey Hepburn. The first crush I ever had on a girl was for this woman.

Lizzy Caplan. I don't know a single person IRL that would not agree. I dare say if you don't, than you're not someone I'd get along with.

Keira Knightley. But only from Domino, because she still ate back then.

Zooey Deschanel.

Country Livin'

Does anyone else ever feel like this?

Growing up I lived in the country. For better or worse, my family always settled into small town life whenever my parents deigned to move us to a new location. It wasn't until college that I finally got a chance to live in a "big city." Orlando to me, at least at the time, was a vast metropolis. I was a country girl that was used to climbing trees and playing in open fields. I would play Little Annie in my back yard with my Labrador. I'd let the horses out into the yard and run around the house with them. I'd dig in my grandparents old farming fields for arrow heads (or a dinosaur if my childhood dreams had ever come true).

Orlando had buildings that were over 4 stories tall. It had restaurants on every corner. It had more than one grocery store and gas station, and they were name brand stores as opposed to the mom and pop places I was used to. I saw my first homeless man. I ran away from my first homeless man. I remember the first time I went downtown and how amazed I was that buildings could be so tall. I sat in the passenger seat with my head out the window looking up the whole way to the bar. And the bar? Well let's just say the line dancing clubs I grew up with were nothing compared to that first night. Bands came to this town. Events were put on. There were parks and bike trails. But there were no trees...

That first year I lived in Orlando was scary. I rarely left my dorm room, and when I did I mostly stayed near campus. Now I live downtown, and though I’ve stopped recently, I used to go out almost every night. Those buildings that I once thought were tall are now just a part of the skyline that seems smaller every time I look at it. For a kid coming from nothing, this town seemed like a dream. But the more time I spend here, the more I realize it's just a stop on the road to something else.

Orlando is a small city, but still a city. I want more. More culture, more history, more skyline. But at the same time I find myself missing home; missing the trees and the open fields. For a little while longer I'll indulge this need to live in a big city. I’ll move to an even bigger city with more to offer. But I know that deep down inside I'll always just be that country girl that liked to hang out on the front porch at night and watch the thunder storms roll by. I'll always be that girl dragging her telescope out onto the carport to look at the stars and the moon. I'll always be that small town girl that would walk down a dirt road of the morning to catch the bus to a school that was an hour and a half away. One day I'll be back there, with a big house and a big yard. With a horse pin and a dog that likes to roll in the mud and lick my face. I'll be back there one day, and I'll be relaxed.

The Goodbye Tale

Part 1

I sit at the bar, fascinated by the swirling of my glass. The cheap whiskey I had ordered from the bartender is a yellowish brown, not the ordinary caramel color that denotes a fine vintage. This is harsh, hard to swallow. My throat feels like a deluge of chlorine has been assaulting it for hours. Instead it is this well whiskey. The whiskey that, though it tastes about as good as a shot to the head, is doing it’s job well.

Around and around the yellow-brown liquid goes. With it, my thoughts. I wish that I could send my thoughts down into the swirl of liquid, empty out my head, but try as I might, and as drunk as I am, her memory remains. I’m trapped in my own head.

This bar, this dive, is where we met for the first time. Back then this place was brand new. The first bar in what would become many to reside on this street in this middle of nowhere town. A new place for the young to frolic and the old to morn. Back then I was young, I frolicked.

She walked in through those doors, back before the paint started to chip and the hinges creaked. She walked straight in through those doors and took my breath away. Her looks weren‘t stunning,  except for her eyes that were as wide as the moon. Her movement wasn‘t elegant, but something in the air around  her caught my attention. I followed her outside through the back doors to what used to be the lounge area in those days. It was a patio with a second bar and metal tables set up around an empty dance floor. Now it’s just a place the bums of the neighborhood come to sleep on rainy nights. The owner says he doesn’t mind because the bums because keep the raccoons away. He’d rather have a bum who can buy a drink every now and again than a raccoon that just eats the stale peanuts he serves at the bar and the garbage he lets pile up outside. He’s a hero of sorts to the bums around these parts for this kindness.

Back then the back patio was strewn with thousands of tiny white Christmas lights. It gave the place a warm intimate glow. A  far cry from the black and purple interior that was more conducive to one night stands with someone you’d regret having even talked to in the morning. Now all of the lights are either broken or blown out. I don’t go out on the patio anymore, but not for fear of the sleeping bums. Instead, I fear the images that would come to mind. Of course they come to mind anyway, but they might bowl me over if I were actually to venture out into the slumber party of smelly men and the occasional raccoon.

“Hi. I’m Alex”
“I’m Kendall.” she  smiled.

We talked for hours, Kendall and I. She was an artist, and was attending art school a couple of towns over. She had a love of music, was born and raised only miles away but her family was from New York. She had a brother she didn’t really know and had lost her father a few years ago to cancer. I joked that I had lost my dad too when I was younger, but it was to a mistress. She had been in the hospital only months earlier and since then had seemed to have the worst luck one could imagine. I told her about my family. About my sister never really being the loving sibling she should have been. About my parents divorce. About my grandfather, the only true father figure in my life, dying and how it still hurt every day. About going to college, but not really caring about any of it because all I wanted to do was create something that would make people happy. We exchanged numbers and promised to call each other soon.

“It was really great meeting you. Can we get together tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I replied.

“Can I fill you up?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I’m fine. Can I get the check,” I ask, back in the present day.

I can’t take anymore reminiscence tonight. I close out my tab and head home. Head still swirling like whisky in a glass, and my heart still beating despite the overwhelming feeling I always have that it has somehow gone absent in these last few months.  I walk out of the old creaky doors that once brought her into my life, and out into the cold dark night that envelopes me in its loneliness.

New Age Hippy Bullshit

I’m about to get all philosophical on you, so forgive me in advance. I generally try to keep my hippy-roots thinking to myself, but recent events have brought all of this back into my mind. Bear with me.

Growing up I had some difficulties. I’ve alluded to them in past posts, but never really delved into any explanations. I’ll skip the details because this isn’t a pity party, just a means of helping you understand where I’m coming from. But I will say this, in my short life I’ve lost a lot that was, and still is, important to me. Either through divorce, death, relocation, or even psychological disorders I’ve lost, and still managed to lose some more. But I came through it.

I used everything that I was put through as a stepping stone to grow and mature. I knew that better things were waiting, and once the clouds went away I’d be able to see the path again. Sure I felt sorry for myself. I cried and fought just like anyone else does when stuck in a bad spot. But I never gave up hope.

In my mind the world is a constant gauntlet. The more you’re put through, the stronger you are. We’re given challenges, but only as much as we can handle. The stronger our will is, the harder our challenges may be. I don’t see this as a negative as one may assume. Instead I see it as a testament to how much I’ve learned. I can be knocked down time and time again; it doesn’t matter. In the end I’ll always pull myself back up.

Sometimes people give up. They lose the battle. It’s not because the test was too hard or they were too weak, but because they weren’t willing to try. These people get lost in the idea that the world is against them. They don’t realize that others are out there in worse spots than their own. They don’t realize that these other people are pulling through. They don’t realize that these other people will survive; not because they are better off, or stronger, or luckier, but because they never gave up hope.

What we end up with in this life has nothing to do with luck. It’s all about the positive energy that we put out into the world. Someone that just won the lottery wasn’t spending the whole week thinking, “Man, I’m never gonna win.” They were thinking, “Man, what if I did win!” Maybe you bought a lotto ticket last week and thought that same thing but didn’t win. It wasn’t your time, but I bet if you spent the whole week thinking positively about that lotto ticket and had a big smile on your face, you probably had a pretty good week.

The point is this… Everyone goes through tough times; some more than others. And when we’re at our worse is when we have the most potential. Maybe you’re currently going through something that you don’t think you can handle. But maybe, just maybe, you’re the strongest you’ve ever been because you have to deal with whatever situation you’re in. It might be bad, it might be worse than anyone knows. But as long as you have hope, as long as you don’t give up, you’ll make it through. And maybe something great will come out of it. Because everything happens for a reason, even if we can’t see it while we’re in the clouds. But that’s a different philosophy for a different day.

Compare/Contrast

I may in fact like this better than the original...


Record Club: INXS "Need You Tonight" from Beck Hansen on Vimeo.

Pygmy Goats

I'm just tipsy enough that this is stellar cute. Add in the fact that even sober this would be adorable, and I'm head over heels in love. I want one!

(Via Zoo Borns)

Sunshine on My Window

I’m incredibly excited for it to be the weekend. The recent weather has been amazing, and the fact that I’ll have money this weekend and will be able to go out and enjoy said weather is blowing my mind. I’ve been cooped up for almost two weeks; last weekend I sat inside watching Buffy all day long. I want to be outside in the sun.

Plans include:

1. New tattoo.
2. Drinking. And lots of it. While outside.
3. Farmer’s Market.
4. Making coconut cupcakes with whipped icing and strawberries.
5. Pizza party.
6. Laundry, because it’s a must.
7. Buy a planter for an herb garden.
8. Spend some time on the short story I’m writing.
9. Clean, but only if I feel like it.

I may or may not do all, none, or some of these things. As long as I get to spend the majority of the time outside in the sun I don’t care… But I would really like to get a new tattoo finally.

In the Cafeteria

Does anyone else remember this guy from elementary school lunches?

This was perhaps the best part of my life as a 5th grader... Mexican Pizza. Well that and being in choir AND being a safety patrol officer; because those are like the two coolest things a kid can be in their younger years. Or more likely, the dorkiest, but I digress.

These pizzas were amazing! I can remember exactly how they tasted, but have yet to find anything like it. I know they still serve them at schools, so maybe I should just get a job as a teacher so I can scarf these down every Monday. Am I alone in my love of octagonal pizza?

Today I'll be dreaming of eating this pizza with a bag, yes a bag, of chocolate milk while I talk to my best friends about why the Yellow Ranger is so much better than the rest and how grody boys are.

Growing Up

Yesterday I turned 25…

Fucking 25! And I spent the whole day locked up in my room, alternating between crying and watching movies. Mostly though, I was just crying. Turning 25 sucked, at least it did for me. I’m better today; I dealt with most of the shit that came along with this new number yesterday.

I talked to family, a couple friends, but besides Haley I didn’t see anyone the entire day, which is sort of how I wanted it to go.

I tried to do the whole hang out with friends thing the night before, but due to poor planning and the fact that it was Easter SUNDAY the turnout was less than stellar. Even my best friend bailed. It needless to say did not help my mental state the next day.

Truth is I’ve never felt so alone in this town. Even when I first moved here 6 years ago and only knew 2 other people I still felt I had a purpose to being here. Now I don’t even have that. I hate my job. I hate this city. And I hate the stagnant state that my life has taken on.

I’m ready to move on, from this part of my life and from this town. But it looks like I’m going to be here for another year, and I’m left by myself in a town I’m sick of. I’ve already diminished a majority of my relationships in an effort to make my leaving easier by not having ties to this town, slowly cutting down contact with friends to phone calls and the occasional hang out. So I wouldn’t miss anyone or anything, so I wouldn’t be placated into just staying. Instead of being placated I’m just stuck. And all that work I did to make my eventual move easier has left me with few people I can lean on when I’m down. I did it to myself.

Yesterday I cried, but not because I was 25, or because anyone made me sad. I cried because I’ve made a mess of my life for the past 25 years. All the places I thought I’d go and all the people I thought I’d know never came to pass. Not because of bad luck or timing, but because of me. Because of the things I do to myself. The limits I set, the perceptions I have, the methods I use. It’s my fault, every last bit. And I think that’s my first realization of being a true adult.

Blank Space

Happy April Fool's Day! I'm not big on pulling pranks, my lack of ability to lie makes it rather hard for me to pull one off. Instead I think of April 1st simply as my Great-Grandma Penny's birthday. She'd be wicked old if she was still around, but I'm sure she'd still be a spit fire. A few weeks ago I found this picture up on my family's website:

I'm not sure why, but I really liked it. I plan on printing it out and framing it to put up somewhere in my new place. Along with some others I found on there...

Which got me thinking about all of the blank wall space left in my apartment, and the fact that it looks like I'm going to be stuck in this town another year. Originally I hadn't cared much about decorating because I wasn't going to be around that much longer. But with it looking like I'm here to stay another year I'd like for my surroundings to be not quite as sparse.

I like the idea of collecting art over the years; Pieces that may cost more or less, but speak to you on some level. But I don't have time for that, so I need some ideas that will work for now. I don't hang out with as many artists as I used to, so bumming pieces off of them won't work. I've found a few things I plan on buying to go along with family photos and maybe even some paint-by-numbers. Who know? I'm desperate...

When I Was 13

During my time writing this blog I’ve admitted to a multitude of secret shames. Keep in mind dear internet that I do have family and friends that read this blog, who have therefore discovered far more about me than I care to acknowledge in their presence. For instance: my fear of having a stroke, my love of Little Ashes, my subsequent obsession with Robert Pattinson, even my abhorrence of crying in public places. But none of that will compare to what I’m about to tell you…

I LOVE THE MOVIE TITANIC.

Now, you might be saying to yourself, “But Nina, Titanic won tons of awards. It’s a top grossing movie. It was beautifully done and historically as accurate as it could be. No way is that worse than loving Little Ashes.” And I’d reply that all of those responses are true, but my love of Titanic goes beyond a normal appreciation of the movie.

Titanic came out when I was in middle school. As a girl of the 90’s, 6th thru 8th grade were prime Leo loving years. And boy did I ever. I scribbled his name on composition notebooks. I fell asleep to thoughts of him every night. I even had a life size plaque of him in my room. It was sad. I knew that then, as well as I know it now.

When Titanic came out I saw it 16 times in the theaters. I’d ball like a baby at every viewing. In my defense, what else was I going to do at the age of 13? Go to parties and get drunk? Not likely. Someone’s mom had to drive us wherever we went; coming out of a party smelling like liquor would probably make for a horrible ride home. Not to mention I was the girl in the back of class in the plaid jumper. I wasn’t being invited to many parties. So I delved into Titanic with my whole being. I loved how tragically romatic it was. I hated Kate Winslet for not giving up her spot on the floating door so that Leo could have lived. I’d go to sleep at night with the radio playing so I could wake up whenever they played “My Heart Will Go On.” I was a dork. I was a loser. And Titanic was my purpose in life for a few brief months.

Eventually I got over it. I moved on. I bought the movie when it came out on VHS, but never watched it. Later on, my friend who had shared my obsession bought me the Collector’s Edition DVD. Again, I never watched it. Until this past weekend that is.

I was home alone and needed something to do. Going out was out of the question as I had acquired quite the sunburn the previous day. So I threw in Titanic, meaning only to watch the first half in hopes of stopping myself from overwhelming depression. Of course that didn’t work, and I watched the whole movie all the way through including special features. By the end, I had been watching Titanic and Titanic related material for about 6 hours, maybe more. I had instantly reverted to a 13 year old girl. I was depressed for the rest of the day, and most of the next. Movies like that just do that to me; something I’ll thrill you with in future posts.

Anyway, I’ll be watching Titanic again sometime this week. Haley said she wanted to watch it, and who am I to deny someone. A big bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues for anyone else wanting to join in. Afterwards I’ll be boxing up my Collector’s Edition to remain out of sight for a few more years. Or until the next time I’m home alone with nothing better to do. Whichever comes first.

Baby Otter, Baby Otter, Baby Otter!!!!

Too cute for words. Go here.

It Might Get Loud

It Might Get Loud Trailer from Roma Sha on Vimeo.

Still pissed that I didn't see this while it was playing at the Enzian. Jack White is one of the coolest men to have ever walked this planet. He's up there with Bowie and Prince, and dare I say it... even Duckie from Pretty in Pink.

Stroke 101

I am what some might call a hypochondriac. Ok, so most people would call me that, and they'd be right. Probably the most odd delusion I suffer from is that I will have a stroke at any given moment. And it is all this woman's fault. Now everytime I have a headache I think I'm having a stroke. Everytime my eyes hurt, I'm having a stroke. Everytime my voice goes out, I'm having a stroke. Everytime I lie awake at night pondering the existence of life, I'm having a stroke. To assure myself I'm ok, I sing Christmas carols and count to ten over and over again. It calms me down.

Unless of course I forget the words to Silent Night. Then I'm definitely having a stroke!

Party Monster

The other night Kyle, Haley and I watched Party Monster. Dear God, do I ever love the living hell out of that movie. Fabulous gay men, the 90’s, great music… It’s my Mecca. Granted it is a murder story, but man was it ever fun before that point.

I had a long discussion with one of my co-workers about this same issue. I had spent the majority of my day reading up on the incident, as well as the history of the whole Club Kids scene. My co-worker walked up while I was watching a video of the group’s visit to the Joan Rivers Show. He asked what I was watching, and I explained that I had just watched the movie for the umpteenth time and was just relishing in all of the Club Kid madness as a means of filling up my day. I told him I loved the movie, and that I adored watching all of the interviews of the real Club Kids. His response? “But isn’t that movie about a murder? It was depressing. I really liked the guy they killed.”

1. Yes, it’s a movie about a murder. But it’s also a movie about a movement. If Michael Alig hadn’t been involved in the killing do you really think anyone would still care? No. He was a leader in the group; a face that America recognized.
2. The murder is only during the last few minutes of the movie. Up until that point it’s pretty amazing and fun. Yeah, there are downer parts, but for me, it’s mostly just fun.
3. Really? You liked Angel? He had like no personality in the movie. He was barely even in it. You only like him because you feel sorry for him in the end. In real life, I’m sure Angel was a great guy (fun, sweet, personality to boot), and in no way did he deserve to die, especially in the savage manner he did. But come on, his part was really poorly written in the movie. You don’t have time to get emotionally attached to him as a character before he’s killed.

Anyway, I still like Michael Alig; not as much as James St. James or Richie Rich, but still. I know, I know… He’s a murderer, and a brutal one at that. But hey, someone has to like the murderers and rapists of the world, and John Waters can only do so much to cover that duty on his own. So I’ll take one off old John’s hands I guess. You know, for posterity’s sake, or something like that…

Goodbyes to a House

A little while ago I lived in this nice little house on Parkland Dr. Now, 8 months after I said my goodbyes to that place, someone else has moved in. And what does this mean for me, why is it a big deal? Well, that house was a part of my life; a much bigger part than I thought it would be at the time. I made friends in that house. I fell in love in that house. I learned to cook in that house.

Parkland was the first house I lived in after I moved out of my parent’s. I had maintained residence in many of an apartment, but Parkland was a house. A REAL FUCKING HOUSE!!! It had two living rooms, a separate kitchen, and best of all a huge back yard with orange trees that scented the air on warm days. It felt like a home. It was a place that I longed to get back to after a day at work.

It also marked the first time I was really making it on my own. I’ve worked since I was 14, and have always made my own way. But my parents were always there to bail me out when I was less than prepared come bill time. At Parkland though, I was able to pay my own way. It was great being able to call my dad and know that I wasn’t just calling to ask for money.

The Parkland house had its drawbacks. It was old and dirty. The plumbing clogged up, the windows let in a constant breeze, bugs resided in the air vents, and every door was used as an entry way by the roaches of the neighborhood. My roommates rarely cleaned. The kitchen was far too small. And a certain dog that slept on the couch made my life hell every other day.

But for all of the negatives, there were equal positives. After 2 years of being heartbroken over my ex, I finally found peace while living at Parkland. I decided to stop being scared and entered a relationship. I was never lonely or able to live in my head, as I often do, thanks to my roommates. Rebecca taught me to care, really care, about the loved ones in my life. Samantha taught me what comfortable silence is. Jess taught me why I’ll never hang an ugly tapestry. Jeremy taught me to laugh at crazy people, even when they’re someone you love. Friends came and went. Parties were had. Life went on…

I got a kitten while living at Parkland. I bought a bike and then wrecked that bike while living at Parkland. I got sick, I laughed, I cried… All while living at the house on Parkland Dr. And out, buried under a tree in the back yard, I laid to rest my hamster Joey in a Chinese take-out box using a plastic kitchen spoon as a shovel and a candle for light. I’ll never forget Parkland, but I say my goodbyes now knowing that the portion of my life I had there is gone.

So goodbye Parkland! I’ll miss you!

Kate Micucci

Possibly the most adorable thing ever. And she's crazy funny.
katemicucci.com
garfunkelandoates.com

Fact:

Whenever I see the word "organism" I always read it as "orgasm."

Dreamland

I want to live in a world that looks like this, even if just for a day. Which is the only possible reason I would ever take acid.
(via minililimi)

Changes

Trees are starting to bloom. It's crazy... It feels like Fall barely began, and Spring is already starting to sneak up. There's not a changing of the seasons in Florida. We have Summer year round, with a few months of weather that dips below 75 which we label Winter. Winter for us means that all of the trees, the grass, the flowers... they've all died. But it still feels slightly hot and humid out. The sky still sparkles in blue.

Fall is my favorite season by far. I love Fall, and always will. But Fall means leaves changing hue. Little kids dressing up to collect candy. Cool weather creeping in making the days crisp. It means bundling up at night to watch the stars while drinking hot chocolate. This kind of stuff just doesn't happen around these parts. Cool weather and that Fall feeling only last about a week. Then everything is dead and depressing except for the palm trees that stick out like sore thumbs with their ever present green. I hate palm trees!

But Spring means everything comes back to life. Spring in Florida is the prettiest time of the year. Everything is green and flowering, but the Summer rains haven't come yet to soak the air and ground. It's still humid, but not that Summer sticky humid that makes it hard to even breathe. The sky is dotted with white puffy clouds and the grass is still soft enough to lay in without a blanket. Birds sing, people light up, and everything just seems happier.

This year however, Spring means something ominous. The blooming of the trees means my birthday is coming up. The first milestone birthday I never wanted to cross. I'll be 25 in a little over a month. That's a big number that meant a lot when I was little.

At 25 I was supposed to be successful. I was supposed to be living in New York. I was supposed to be single and loving it. I was supposed to be a size 2 with a nice high ass. I was suppose to go out every night and meet someone new. Then one day I'd run into some cute quiet guy that would pull me out of my single life-style and I'd have a family. (This part would happen when I was about 30. By which point my life would obviously have ended completely.)

Instead, I'll be turning 25 still living in Florida. Still working a quiet office job that I loathe most days. Staying home with the person that is far from quiet, but pretty awesome in her own right. Still not a size 2, and my ass if far from high. I was supposed to be all of these things. I knew I would be. I'm starting to realize though, I might just be mediocre. And these dreams I had at 12 may have just been dreams. A way to escape the life I had at that time.

Who knows... Whatever, I'm taking a blanket out this weekend and watching the clouds roll by while I'm still young.

Support the Troops

I bought my standard two boxes of Girl Scout cookies yesterday; one box samoas, one box thin mints. It's the same every year. Both are favorites, but samoas have a slight edge. I freeze both boxes, snacking throughout the remainder of the year until the next cookie season. I left my cookies at home today thinking I could last 8 hours before finally tearing open one of the boxes to have that first sweet cookie. Then I saw this on TasteSpotting...

That's a plate of homemade samoas. Fuck, I want my cookies so bad right now. I'm tempted to hunt down a small girl in a green jumper and beg that she give me just one cookie. Maybe if I pretend I'm terminally ill she'll feel bad and give me one. Or I could just wait until I get home, but that's so haaarrrrd...

Jacuzzi Boys

Listening all day...

Pet Peeves

The cards never cover the top left hand corner of the screen. I wait every game for the cards to finish flying around, and they never touch that GOD DAMN CORNER!!!

Universe 1, Nina 0

I hate crying. I hate when I cry. I hate when others cry. I even hate when I tear up after a really intense sneeze. Crying is embarassing. Beyond anything else Icould possibly do in front of others, peeing/burping/farting/falling, crying kills my soul every time. If I had a choice I'd eat a live bug if it meant I would never cry in public again.

So far today I've cried 3 times. Each time in front of people. I'm ready for that bug anytime someone wants to bring it over...

I really just want to lay in bed and watch Little Ashes again while eating brownie mix straight from a bowl.

Untitled 2.2.2010

I want to see what is inside of you;
The meats and organs that breath as your flesh.
I want to hold your heart, beating and red.
1, 2, 3, 4... 1, 2, 3, 4... It beats away, this heart.
I want to kiss your veins, your arteries;
The highways of life passing through unnoticed.
I want to listen to your brain,
As it chimes away with unspoken thoughts.

I want to see what has never been seen.
I want to touch what has never been touched.
I want to know... I want to know you.
The real you. The self you hide from the world.

I want to see what is inside of you;
The putrid and rank pieces.
I want to feel your bones clanking.
Their strength carried through your limbs.
I want to suck out your breath;
Sweet and fragrant air of your lungs.
I want to pick out your eyes;
Swooning with the sight of your reality.

I want to see what has never been seen.
I want to touch what has never been touched.
I want to know... I want to know you.
The real you. The self you hide from the world.
I want you, all of you.

Rose colored cheeks.
Eyes the brown of earth.
I want to see what is inside of you.
Let me in...

Little Ashes

Last night, alone and sitting in my room, I did something dirty. Something you don't talk about. Something that, while you're doing it, you listen for sounds of your roommate coming home for fear they will walk in on you. Last night I watched Little Ashes.

As I've stated before, I have quite the crush on the current Hollywood heart throb, Robert Pattinson. It's something that, since I've admitted it, I have been ridiculed for. But for some reason, as much as I am ashamed of this crush, I can't quit it. If he's in a movie, I'll probably watch it.

Thus was the story last night. My girlfriend had a family dinner which meant I'd have some time alone. Time to give in to my little obsession. And you know what? As much as I wanted to hate this movie, and I truly did want to, I just couldn't. Is Robert Pattinson a great actor? No, of course not. But he is mildly more talented than is discernable in the Twilight movies; which by the way I totally love for all their awesome horridness. In Little Ashes you can see his potential poking through. He goes over the top, and looks awful for most of the film thanks to the wigs provided. But then again, he was playing Salvador Dali who was in real life over the top in the extreme.

Beyond all of this though, Little Ashes still could have hit it out of the park for me without even trying. It contained all of my key ingredients in loving a film: it's a period piece, has tortured artists, secret love affairs, fascists, gypsies, heartbreak, death, and of course it's a film about gay characters (which Haley believes is my only requirement).

Was the movie great? So funny you should ask... No, it wasn't. And I can without doubt say that most people would hate it. But despite the choppy timeline, dual masturbation scene, shitty effects and seeing a pudgy R.P. naked, I loved it. I'll probably watch it again next time I'm home alone with no one around to witness and judge me. Just like when I eat a Snicker's ice cream bar while laying in bed reading erotica novels by the light of my book-light so no one knows I'm home.

January 15-17, 2010

This weekend I got sick because, of course I did; why wouldn't I? I've only been getting sick on a bi-weekly basis for the last few months. What's once more?

Friday I started tasting chlorine in my mouth. You know that sharp pain in the back of your throat you get right before a sinus infection that makes your whole mouth taste of the over-chlorinated wave pools at Wet 'n Wild? Yeah, I had that.

Saturday I resembled a taller version of Sneezy from Snow White. I tried at one point to count how many times I was sneezing, but have you ever tried to do anything intellectual while sneezing? Impossible. I did however manage to make it to the grocery store for the first time in 2 months. The BOGOs this week were amazing! And finally having groceries in my kitchen makes me feel like I actually live at my house instead of just storing my furniture there.

A few people came over to Haley’s that night to play a rousing game of Apples to Apples. We’re obviously sophisticated individuals. After Emily kicked everyone’s asses, Jenna found the creepiest gif I have ever seen. I screamed… Twice…

Sunday equaled a marathon of Man vs. Food thanks to Haley. Now I hate the host of this show, but for some reason I can't stop watching him. He's a douche of the highest ranks, but watching him puss out at every challenge gives me satisfaction that maybe the world isn't so bad. However, in the same day I did see two douche bags hit on a girl working at Einstein's. I mean, she's at work for Christ's sakes. I'm pretty sure she is thinking of other things then hanging out with two strangers after work. She totally ignored them though, and I got the privilege of seeing her laugh at them once they were gone.

After Einstein's Haley and I ran over to Walgreens so I could pick up some medicine for the ever increasing Sinus Disaster of 2010. While there we saw the most oddly proportioned lady that I have ever seen. I'm overly disturbed by women/men who have huge bellies but skinny chicken legs. It doesn't make sense to me that someone could be fat, yet the lowest part of their body looks like it belongs to a 13 year old anorexic girl. Gravity needs to get on the ball and spread that shit around. Anyway, this woman had 3 kids with her, which I guess added to her overblown gut that was hanging over an extremely short pair of shorts that rose only slightly above her "secret 'stache." But right at the bottom of this great big belly roll was a petite size butt and legs. Normally the skinny legged fat people still have large butts. Her's was smaller than mine! Haley tried to snap a picture, but there was no way. We also waited outside in our car to catch another glimpse of her, but we missed her coming out.

That night everyone decided to go out as most sane offices were closed on Monday due to MLK Day. I stayed home and watched Louis C.K. and drank Theraflu because I still felt bad and my office would be open on Monday. We only get five holidays off each year, and I guess the activist responsible for equality in America doesn't count enough. Whatever...

Oh, and if you ever wondered what you look like when you sneeze you should watch this.