Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Well, I have some news!

I am currently typing on my new laptop that my dad got me for Christmas! I'm so excited, it even has a webcam!

When I get done installing everything and setting things up, I'll write more.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

So... Sleepy...

I'm so tired.

I have no right to be this exhausted- I only did two bang trims- but yet I am. At least I can get in the bed earlier and get up in the morning because I have to be back at the salon at 9 AM.

Did I fail to mention that I got a job at a salon? Cos I totally did. I'll be working three or four days a week, to fill out my schedule, since I work so little at Bath and Body Works.

Anyway... I'll be writing more soon. I'm eagerly awaiting my first package from Shiro Cosmetics and I'll be working so... Yeah.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Well, damn.

I don't know if you guys heard about it, but some crazy shit went down last night in Panama City and I was about ten minutes or so away when it happened.

A man went into the Bay County school board meeting with a gun, spray-painted a red "V" inside a circle on the wall, and started talking about how his wife had lost her job. After firing several times and missing everyone at the meeting, he was shot twice by a security guard and then he killed himself.

This has everyone in town pretty freaked out. I think the main fear is that more incidents like this are going to happen as the economy gets worse.

More info here.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Hey! I made a post, finally!

I've actually had stuff going on, I just haven't really found words for it yet.

I got to work on Saturday (only three and a half hours but it's better than no hours, and I've got nine this week, hopefully) and I had an interview a few hours before that. On Friday I have a practical interview at Belissimo Salon, and I think that'll go okay. Maybe I'll have more money coming in by the new year.

I got my last package from Aromaleigh on Saturday, as well. It was bittersweet because I was excited about the new eyeshadows, but I can't get any more either. I have about $60 left on my prepaid card that my first paycheck went to (I'm not sure where my next will go, since I didn't get a paycheck cos I haven't worked since Black Friday) and around $30 in my bank account (Jesus, does that EVER change!?) so I'll make it another couple of weeks. It's just frustrating because I definitely wouldn't have ordered a pair of glass gauge plugs and a clear retainer if I'd known my hours for that week (my five measly hours!) would be cut. Hopefully I get to keep my hours this weekend and pick up some more during the holidays. It'll give me an excuse to not travel.

Today (well, yesterday, now) was the beginning of a ten-year-old family tradition my mom started years ago, the Twelve Days of Christmas. We each (my brother and I, that is) get a small present every day until Christmas Day when we get the big stuff. It's usually a used book or movie, or an exotic candy bar, or in my case, art supplies. It's a lot of fun. Today, I got Hush by Asobi Seksu- occasionally we'll get a CD or DVD in there. Today was one of those days.

Tomorrow I think I'll get my car's oil changed, go check my schedule and make sure I know what days and times I'm supposed to be at work, and see the new Narnia movie. I need something to kill a couple of hours so my mom won't bother me for not leaving the house.

 I also need to make a concerted effort to find that Netflix sleeve so I can mail Mouth to Mouth back and get my next DVD. I have no idea where the damn thing went.

 By the way, the last movie I got, Second Skin, was one of the most frustrating films I've ever seen. The main character had to be the least appealing human ever to be onscreen in a supposedly romantic movie. You're supposed to sympathize with a man who cheats on his wife with another man, yet you just feel bad for his wife and his lover on the side because they both love him so much and he's so wrapped up in his own "Oh poor me" routine that he ends up hurting them both. I actually was a bit relieved when he died in a motorcycle crash, that's how much I wanted to not watch him anymore. Why did I continue, you ask? Because I love Javier Bardem, and I also really like wotserface (she played Ofelia's mother in Pan's Labyrinth). I wanted to see how things panned out for them. Javier's character, Diego, the lover, was so sweet and he even risked his career for Roberto, even after the guy lied to him constantly and treated him like shit. Roberto acted like a spoiled, insolent child most of the time. A spoiled-insolent child with a raging boner- be warned if you decide to watch this, there is almost nothing that can prepare you for the unexpected, out-of-left-field man-lovin' in the FIRST TEN MINUTES. And he treated his wife even worse- apparently he didn't care about how an affair might affect his marriage, or his young son, for that matter.

 Ugh. Sorry, I hate movies that are like that, where you just hate whoever you're watching and pray for them to die.

Anyway... I might have more to say tomorrow, but I've gotta go to bed. Later.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Care to watch me beat a dead horse?

I'm not sure what's been up with me lately.

I've been up and down so many times that I'm getting dizzy. I see something funny, like a movie or something, and it puts in a good mood, then the internet goes down, then it comes back up, then I order Christmas presents, then I order some eyeshadow (my last order from Aromaleigh, I swear!), then I feel guilty, then I get depressed because of something else, then I lose my class ring (still haven't found it, by the way), it just never stops.

I haven't worked since Black Friday, either. My hours were cut yesterday. I don't know when I'll get in again, or when I'll find another job to supplement my income, or if I'll get any more commissions so I can make some money that way... And it doesn't help that my mom is constantly screaming at me because I haven't found anything yet. It's like August and September all over again.

You know how sometimes, you just crave contact with another person, and there's nobody around that you want contact with? I miss having male friends so much. I hated being thrown into a sea of oestrogen when I started cosmetology school- I was drowning in it. When I occasionally would have a guy friend to spend time with, I always felt so much better. I really wish I still had some male energy that doesn't involve a family member to surround myself with. I miss the zero-bullshit conversation, and the fact that I could say ANYTHING and it wouldn't shock them, aside from the fact that they couldn't believe a "good girl" like me would say anything like that. When I was seventeen, and I was around my friends, every other word out of my mouth was "fuck". I don't have that liberty anymore. Now I have to pick and choose who I say certain things to and it's so annoying because it's just a word, you know? We're all adults here, get the fuck over it.

But unfortunately, I can't make things go back to the way they were when I was seventeen. I'm just feeling nostalgic for when my life didn't completely suck shit, I guess. Right now, I feel alone, friendless. And nobody I could tell that to would care. My mom always gives me that old "I don't see my friends either" line (Did any of her friends ditch her and get pregnant by a convicted felon? No.), my brother doesn't speak to his friends much either, and nobody returns my phone calls. I have left no less than thirty voicemails on Pinkie's phone and she hasn't called me back, even after I called her at work and asked her to give me a ring when she got home. I shouldn't have held my fucking breath. I mean, all I wanted was an update, to make sure she was okay, because she hadn't called me in nearly two months. God forbid I should worry, when that former meth addict she hooked up with hates my guts (likewise, motherfucker) and now that she's moved back in with her parents I may not hear from her at all. Especially after she has the baby, and that's only a month or so away.

I know this is an old issue and I shouldn't keep harping on it. Sorry about that.

I've been in a bad mood pretty much all day today. No matter what I did, I couldn't really shake it. I always (and I know this sounds crazy but it's 100% true) have bad days when I don't wear that damn ring. I don't feel right. I'm very aware of it being missing. Probably because it's heavier by itself than the three other rings I'm currently wearing altogether. I know it's here, I just have no idea where to begin... I've already looked in one area and I know it isn't there, and that leaves a good 2/3 of the room unexplored.

I think tomorrow I'll make a run to Target, stop by Bath and Body Works to check my schedule (the ACES website is being a bitch and always gives me a blank screen, so I can't check that way), and then come home and just tear my room apart. It's the only way to find a small object.

Okay... Shutting up now. Later, dudes.

UPDATE!!! Herff-Jones, the company I got my class ring from, has a warranty program that lasts up to six years! It's been four since I got my ring! I may get a new one anyway! Crossing my fingers, dudes!

Saturday, December 4, 2010

I lost my class ring today.

That may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but I've worn that stupid thing every day for four years. I don't feel right without it.
I know it's somewhere in my room- it slipped off my finger when I was digging for a clean pair of socks or trying to find my sneakers or something. All I know is I was wearing it and then I wasn't- I had it on the wrong hand because my hands were swollen (I've been retaining a lot of water), and when the swelling went down my ring fell off.

Also... It was the only piece of jewelry I owned that was worth anything. I paid $635 for it- it was white gold, had a special cut, and, for some reason, it cost more to NOT get the antique finish, which is weird. The stone was alexandrite, and I loved it because it changed colors in the light. Sometimes it was purple, sometimes green, sometimes gray.

I won't mess with it beforehand, but when I get home from work I'm turning my room upside down to look for that ring. I have to find it.

And if it starts feeling too tight, I'll put it on my necklace so I don't risk losing it again. I'm not going through this shit a second time.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

You know what made my day today?

I commented on a YouTube vlog and the guy thought it was funny!

This video popped up in my subscription box, so I watched. The comments fill up pretty quick, so if you don't feel like surfing through all that, I wrote:

"She was calm because if she'd shown any emotion the staples holding her face like that might've popped. Duh.
Her head looks like a drum with a smear of paint and a wig slapped on it."

I thought it was really cool, I made someone else at least smile. It always makes me happy when I do that.

I also saw the new Harry Potter movie and it was great, but a real downer. Not that I can't enjoy that. The word I kept thinking of, upon reflection, is "oppressive". I couldn't disengage with what I was watching. Normally I can float in and out and still pick up 99% of the details, but I couldn't bring myself to think about anything else.

I was also excited that they used "Oh Children" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in one of the scenes. I didn't really discover that song until recently but it's a favorite now. Especially the live version. So now younger people get to experience the greatness that is Nick Cave! Yay!

My first paycheck goes in my account tomorrow, so that's good. I can get my brother and my dad presents for Christmas, and make one last order from Aromaleigh ($35, that's what I've worked out), and still have some left (that wasn't there today) thanks to the money my Aunt Glenda sent as a Christmas present. I already know what I'm getting- a $30 gift card for my brother and a copy of Whiskey for the Holy Ghost by Mark Lanegan for my dad.

All in all it'll be less than my paycheck (which is $84, I got to check online!) and it'll be nice to have more than $10 in the bank, worrying about when I can get more in there. Plus, I get paid every other week. It won't be much but I'm talking to salons again so hopefully in the next month or so I'll have more money coming in and therefore a LOT less pressure.

It was a pretty good day.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch Huevos de Oro (Golden Balls!) one more time before putting it back in the mail tomorrow. The character is such an asshole and his dress sense is a lot like what happens when late-80's Miami throws up on someone, but any movie where I get to see a mostly-naked Javier Bardem is fine by me! Seriously, half that movie is pretty much soft-core porn. There are not one but two three-way scenes. One (the first) is pretty tasteful and, you know, what you'd expect from a three-way, and the last one is fucking HILARIOUS. All I can say is, I knew Benicio Del Toro (yeah, he was in it, too- my lucky day!) was a freak! Between the slapping and the choking and the way he was ATTACKING that girl, not to mention his screaming ("GOOOO-ZAAAAA!!!" Which apparently translates to "Enjoy it", which... WTF?).

Well... I'd better get to bed soon. End stream-of-consciousness ramblings! Later!

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Just a quick update...

Nothing special.

I didn't do much today- I just hung around the house and went over to a client's house to do her hair for her.

But when I got home, I saw an envelope with my name on it, and...

I finally got my stupid Florida cosmetology license. FINALLY. After only THREE DAMN MONTHS.

I should have more to say tomorrow. Later!

Saturday, November 27, 2010

I think I'm going to dye my hair gray.

Hear me out. I know I can't bleach my hair to platinum just yet (well, except for maybe a third of it) but I'm so sick of looking at my washed-out black hair with an inch of dirty dishwater blonde grown back in. Besides... Gray is really in right now. I've seen a lot of it in the more alternative fashion magazines, and in a lot of new collections being showcased on the Behind the Chair website. And it's unexpected.

And I just ordered some eyeshadow from Sugarpill and I feel SO GUILTY even though it was just one! That was $13.60 including shipping that I just didn't need to spend. Now I only have about $30 in my bank account but I should have that replenished... next week? I'm not sure when my first check comes in. I think that'll be two weeks employed, so yeah, next week or the week after. I can make it until then.

Also, I'm wanting to draw some more. I felt pretty blah tonight and I, honest to God, just now got over a sinus headache I developed around noon, so I didn't. But, especially if I don't work tomorrow, I'll be drawing some. I have some really amazing pictures I found on Google and various other websites. I'm not sure if I have to go in or not- I have a feeling I won't- because unless they made $23000 in sales they don't have the payroll for me. So I have to call in by noon and ask. Which is fine, I'll get up, shower, and give them a ring and if I work, great, if not, I have other shit I can do.

So I have whatever Netflix is sending me coming in the mail tomorrow. I may not have a lot of money but damn if THAT subscription hasn't been worth it. I certainly don't have tons of cash to spend on DVDs so between Netflix and the Red Box I've just been rolling in it. I'm particularly excited about a couple of Javier Bardem movies I found on the website:

1. Second Skin, which is about a man who cheats on his wife with another man (Javier) and hates himself because he did it.

2. Mouth to Mouth, and from what I can tell it sounds pretty funny. I mean, Javier Bardem as a wannabe-actor-turned-phone-sex-operator. How could it NOT be?

Anyway... Later, dudes. I may post tomorrow, if not the next day.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

I'm so pissed.

I rented Waking Life thinking it would be a great, weird movie to watch, having heard things about it for years and years, about how it muses on reality versus the dream world. I got ten minutes, maybe fifteen, into that fucking movie and gave up. If I'd heard one more Goddamn comment on existentialism and evolution I was going to puke or smash my TV or both. And that live-action-painted-over look was making me queasy anyway. It was like watching a moving Van Gogh painting. Here's hoping that A Scanner Darkly is better. But you're on notice, Linklater.

I got $25 for that shitty drawing I did. I was expecting... well... $0 so that went better than originally planned, I guess. So I'm trying to figure out what to do with it and I think I've come up with a solution.

I know, I know, I don't need anything and Christmas is coming up. I was thinking about buying more eyeshadow and lipstick to hoard, but I already have pretty much every color a sane person would want, I just have a thing for sparkly things that have different-colored sparkles in them. So I'm going with some stuff from One Hand Washes the Other- they have pretty tinted lip balms that are different from the drugstore brands in that they don't all seem to lean too brown in their base shades. One is red with green sparkles, another is silver that flashes pink, and one is coral, which I normally stay away from but this doesn't seem too orange. And it's blood orange flavored! My favorite (sort of)! At least those would be useful- color and conditioning for my easily-chapped lips.

I haven't got much else to say. I've done fuck all in the last couple of days. Maybe I'll have more to say tomorrow, I'm not sure. Later.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Insomnia? Or the end result of over-sleeping?

I can't sleep. Not sure why. Well, that's untrue. I woke up at 9 AM and then proceeded to fall asleep and wake up again several times until 1 PM. I didn't even eat anything until almost 2:30 this afternoon because I always seem to wake up nauseous.

I'm also on a bit of a high because I got to see Florence and the Machine on Saturday Night Live. I know it's not exactly cool to like that show, but A) I don't care about being cool and B) I've been watching for years and I love it. Also, Florence was ON tonight. She was so beautiful, with her shiny red curls and her red lips and her black dresses (that beaded one she wore for the "Dog Days Are Over" performance was gorgeous but SO SHORT- at least she has the legs for it!) and I was so happy that she got to show everyone how amazing she is. Seriously, if I hear one more Goddamn person my age talk about how Katy Motherfucking Perry is a great role model because she "speaks her mind" and she's "original" I'll scream. Flo not only writes amazing songs but she also is a natural performer, one of those people you can't take your eyes off, like their work or not. She was born to do what she does. And I'll watch her as long as she does it- she's only two years older than me so I think it'll be a while before it's all over.

Anyway, end fangirl rant...

I have another semi-unofficial shift tomorrow. I'm helping put up displays for Black Friday or something, and I don't have to be at Bath and Body Works until 6 PM. In workout clothes. So... I'll be dressed how I normally am around the house, but I'll be getting paid. And missing The Simpsons. But getting paid.

I watched another somewhat depressing movie on Netflix last night- The Sea Inside. If you don't mind subtitles I would recommend it. Basically it's about a man, Ramon Sampedro, who, after suffering a spinal injury as a young man, becomes a quadriplegic and is lobbying the Spanish government to allow assisted suicide so that he can die with a little dignity. The government (surprise, surprise) never relents and his friends, in secret, dose him with cyanide and grant him that one last wish of his. I'm not sure how I feel about the subject matter. My immediate response is, no, he should value his life, but upon further reflection, I realized that I would probably want the same thing. And he was trapped like that for nearly THIRTY YEARS. What kind of life is that? He chased away his fiancee so that she would have a chance to live unburdened by his condition, instead placing most of the weight on his brother and sister-in-law, and, later on, his nephew. But what I didn't understand was, Ramon accomplished so much despite his disability. Why didn't he see that? He invented a writing tablet that allowed him to write using his mouth (I'm not entirely sure how it worked, I only saw him writing). He wrote poetry that his sister-in-law saved in a box and was later published. And Julia, the lawyer working on his case pro bono, tried to understand him and his reasoning as well as she could while dealing with her own disability (she has two strokes over the course of the film, the last taking a good chunk of her memory). I sympathized with her the most.

There was one line in particular that got to me. Ramon's father, speaking to Julia; "There's only one thing worse than having your son die on you... him wanting to."

Overall I felt like it was a good story about a person's right to control what happens to their body, and what life is about, and all that. I just can't imagine why I keep finding all this depressing shit to watch. It always sounds good and then I get through it and, surprise, I cry buckets through half the movie. Maybe I'm just over-emotional right now and this is what I need. I've felt wildly out of control the last few months to the point where maybe I need therapy. But if I do start seeing a shrink, it won't be one of those woo-woo, touchy-feely weirdos like the last guy my mom took me to. I was angrier when I left than when I'd gone in. I talk about how I don't like it when people openly judge me, he makes me look around the room and says there's nobody here to judge me. DAMN! NO WAY! I had no idea there wasn't anyone else in this tiny room! I tend to feel emotions in extremes, I'm either really good or really bad. Then there's the days where I literally feel NOTHING. I have to make myself feel something. No, I'm not talking about self-harm or anything like that. I just have to read a book that really affects me or listen to music or something, but it's still a little weird to think, "Did I really have a feeling today? I can't remember." But then, sometimes I can't remember whether or not I put on deodorant five minutes after I would've put it on.

Aagghhh... I'd better get some sleep. Later, dudes.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Ever had one of those 50/50 days?

I did. Wanna know why?

I found naked pictures of Javier Bardem! Full-frontal, baby!

Sorry. Just had to let someone know. It made me REALLY happy.

Anyway... Not much happened today. I didn't even get out of the house until almost 1:30, and then it was only to put gas in the car and wander aimlessly around Wal-Mart. When I got home, I sat down to work on the drawing I'd promised a friend for her and her husband's anniversary- a picture of his dark blue Corvette C6.

That is the worst art failure I think I've ever had. I HATE that picture. I want to set fire to it.

I used a pencil for the skeleton and dry pastels because they're easier to smudge. Not only did I make a HUGE mess, I ruined the drawing. I feel so bad- I was supposed to take it to her this weekend, and I have to call her and tell her I can't do it. I have no idea why I thought I could draw a fucking CAR. I'm so bad with clean lines. I can draw the human figure but I can't do objects. I guess I just wanted to do something nice for her because not many people commission me but the thought was always in the back of my head; "I can't draw cars." And clearly I can't, because that picture looks like it was drawn by someone who's never seen a car in person before.

Oh, well, at least I tried... Won't get paid, but I tried.


I can't really post them here, for obvious reasons. But I've saved them and I've printed (and hidden, I DO live in the same house as my mother) the pictures for my own... amusement.

That's pretty much it. I'm working on an essay (actually, two) sort of post that I'll finish up tomorrow. Later!

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I don't have much interesting to say. Except...


Finally, after months and months of looking, I got hired for the holidays at Bath and Body Works! I start tomorrow, with an orientation at 3 P.M. I'm not sure how many hours I'll be getting, but I don't care, I'm just happy to finally have something.

Life has kinda sucked for a while now and I'm really glad it's finally starting to, you know... not suck. It'll be nice to have some money in my pockets, even if it's just a little. Maybe I can find something else, too. I'll have to see what my schedule is like.

Anyway, that was all. I'll probably have more to talk about tomorrow.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Cool Stuff and Things!

I went to this annual Christmas shopping festival thing with my mom and her friend's daughter today and I got the COOLEST NECKLACE EVER!

Let me back up and set this up a little better. I found lots of cool stuff- there were vendors from all over the country. I found a makeup bag that I came really close to buying that had an old comic book-style woman drawn on it that said, "God, I'm just so BLOODY BLONDE sometimes!" As a natural blonde, I found it hilarious. My mom bought me some things for Christmas that I was expressly told to forget about, which I probably will- three really pretty bobby pins with dichroic glass on them, and a handmade rainbow-colored bag crocheted from silk. But I passed by a booth with some jewelry that I HAD to inspect closer.

The girl that made them asked me if I knew what steampunk was, and I was like, "Hell YES and I LOVE it!" Some of the pieces were made from watch fobs that still worked, and there was a necklace that had a brass pendant shaped like an alarm clock. Headbands with brass filigree and watch faces. Rings with tiny watch fobs on them. Earrings. But the one I really fell in love with was on a slinky, dark silver chain, a small globe with a functioning, jewel-movement watch inside it. If you wind the little sapphire-tipped winder on the bottom, it runs. You can hear it ticking. I HAD to have it. But I don't even currently have $49 to my name, and that's how much it cost, so that became an early Christmas present. I was that in love with it. But I also wanted to give the girl some business, just as a fellow jewelry maker who knows that there's little to no steampunk market in Panama City.

I'll have to post pictures later.

On an unrelated note, I watched Traffic start to finish for the first time last night. It was a good movie, but not my favorite thing I've ever seen. I mostly enjoyed seeing Benicio Del Toro in tight pants. He's decidedly bootylicious (I SO went there). And shirtless in a pool. Also, he eats at a stand in one scene, and he kind of eats like a little kid, which I found oddly adorable. Normally I hate watching and hearing people eat (it's one of those weird pet peeves you can't quite explain) but I was like, "... Aww." And that scene in the gay bar, where he picks up that drug dealer? Brilliant.

I'll probably watch it again tomorrow night. The mail won't go out until Monday anyway.

I haven't got anything else to talk about right now. Maybe on Monday I'll get good news from Bath and Body Works. It's not like I didn't show interest in that job, I only went back in seven times to ask about it.

Later, dudes.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Boring post ahead. Maybe. I don't know.

So I got a bit of a surprise this morning. My mom handed me two packages, and I had NO recollection of ordering anything that I hadn't already gotten. But, my name was on both labels, so it definitely was for me. I tore the boxes open and...

Free hairspray! I'd totally forgotten, but I entered a contest a few months ago on to win two cans of TIGI Catwalk "Sleek Mystique" hairspray from their straightening collection of the same name. I'll keep one and give the other to Pinkie as part of her Christmabirthday (or is it Birthmas?) present (don't judge me, her birthday is December 8th so why should I send two packages?) next month.

On a less happier note, I found out some rather nasty things about a makeup company that I bought from less than a year ago, just before all this stuff came out. For those of you unfamiliar with Lime Crime, it isn't worth the time, energy, or money. I was so excited- the color I ordered was called Dragon Scales (great name) and it looked like a brownish-red with tons of blue and green sparkles. It turned out to be just a very finely-ground mica glitter, not even a proper eyeshadow, and I paid $12 for the shit. And OF COURSE I'm nearly a year late to jump on the bandwagon here.

The other night, I was bumming around on Lipsticks and Lightsabers, Anastasia's blog, and looking back several months led to not just one but SEVERAL unfavorable posts regarding Lime Crime. Her lipstick review made me VERY glad I didn't bother with them- they're too thick, chalky, and they stain. Plus, the bright purple tube with the sparkly unicorn, while cute, is also enormous for a lipstick tube and kinda resembles a bullet vibrator. For $16, too. I'd rather spend my money on MAC and save two bucks.

The main issue is that several people have caught on to the fact that Doe Deere, the founder of Lime Crime, has been buying mica from a wholesaler and repackaging it... in containers that the wholesaler carries, no less. Just with her own stickers slapped on them and marked up 4000%. She has also been found to have had many shady business practices in the past (selling children's fake sunglasses as couture on eBay, copying other designer's work on Etsy, making videos of herself mixing eyeshadows in VERY unsanitary conditions, etc.) and has a history of threatening legal action against bloggers that posted negative reviews and sending her sock puppets out after them.

So... I feel really stupid. And I don't know what to do with this fucking repackaged glitter stuff that I have to cake on wet just for it to show up. I'm debating whether or not I should mix it with something else, just to get decent wearability out of it.


I've been commissioned to do a drawing for a friend so I'll be doing that tomorrow. Cars aren't exactly my favorite thing in the world to draw, but hey, it's money.


Sunday, November 7, 2010

Can someone PLEASE tell me...

... What the FUCK is up with Robert Downey Jr.'s hair!?

Robert, baby, you know I love you but this is NOT sexy. Just like this "Simon Le Bon impersonator" look here:

Blonde is NOT your color. And do I see lipstick? Or is your mouth normally that pink?

Or this... I'm not even sure what this is. I'm without words. Except maybe, "HOLY CRAP."

A prismatic gold lame shirt? And a white suit? What was he doing, attending the Futuristic Pimp Awards or something!?

Gives me a headache. Allow me to collect my wits for a moment.

Okay... I realize that this is a rare slip-up. He's normally so handsome, so put-together. But really, I can't believe Susan let him walk out of the house like that.

Anyway. Let's just put this ugly mess behind us, shall we?

Ah, there we go!

(DISCLAIMER! This was written by an extremely bored person with WAY too much time on her hands!)

UPDATE! I went to see Due Date and it was HILARIOUS! You should all go check it out!

Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Most Depressing Movie Ever

I got The Road from Netflix today, excited because I've wanted to see it forever- I love Viggo Mortensen, I knew the soundtrack would be amazing because Nick Cave and Warren Ellis did it, and John Hillcoat is a brilliant director and if you don't know that familiarize yourself with his work.

The story is about a father and son, trying to get to the east coast after the Apocalypse. They spend the entire movie covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime, and Viggo's teeth develop a lovely greenish-brown film. Charlize Theron is in very little of the movie- she leaves when Viggo refuses to kill her and their son and then commit suicide to avoid the surely-terrible future. The rest of her scenes are flashbacks.

There are roaming tribes of cannibals, bomb shelters, and near-misses with said cannibals. There is one particularly horrifying scene where the father and son (they don't have names) go into a house to find food and shelter and end up finding a cellar with a dozen or so half-naked malnourished people, some with missing limbs. There are bloody meathooks EVERYWHERE. They escape, but just barely, when the cellar people try to make a run for it and the cannibals have to make sure their food supply (ugh...) doesn't run off.

I found myself, though fascinated, wondering when the movie would end. It's just under two hours, but it felt like a lifetime watching all that suffering. Cormac McCarthy wrote some scary shit into that novel. And it's scary because it's entirely possible. We may see it in our lifetimes. I don't want to think about having to run away from people that want to fucking EAT ME, but the thought stays with me.

Don't get me wrong. The Road is a GREAT movie. But it's one of those films that you can only watch when you're in a depression and you need to have a good cry. Or when you're into something scary that isn't all about blood and guts the way horror movies are (which, by the way, I don't find scary, they're just gross). I'll never be able to watch that last scene without crying buckets- hearing that sweet boy say "Papa" over and over again when he realized his father was gone put me over the edge. I felt on the verge of tears through the whole thing but that did it for me.

I'm not one for the so-called "classic" novels, either, but I would read Cormac McCarthy before I EVER touched anything by Faulkner or one of the other supposedly great American writers. I can see how Nick Cave's first novel, And the Ass Saw the Angel, garnered comparisons. It was probably intentional, but still.

So... Anyway... Check it out. But be forewarned, it's a tough watch.

Friday, October 29, 2010

I have problems, I just know it.

The latest addition to my Stable of Fantasy Dudes: Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

 First off, I know that a lot of people get Jeffrey here and Javier Bardem mixed up. I did the first time I saw a preview for Eat Pray Love, but that was just a glance. The picture below is from a blog where the girl writing was basically saying that she can't tell a difference between the two of them, even when concentrating.

 Um... Really? Because I could name SEVERAL.

 Well, let's just take a look.
Aside from their eyes being different colors, and their noses, eyebrows, lips, jawlines, and hairlines being completely different... Oh, wait.

You could make a case for Jeffrey looking like Jeremy Piven, I guess, but that's not something I like thinking about because... Eww. Seriously.

Anyway... I first ran across him when I saw Watchmen and absolutely fell in love. I know that the Comedian was a total asshole but God was he sexy. Something about him made me giggle like an excited schoolgirl. I texted my friend Pinkie when I left the movie theatre and told her she had to check it out, because not only was it an awesome movie but there's also a drool-worthy actor in it. What can I say? I was excited.

Admittedly, I didn't think about him much after that. I did when The Losers came out, but I didn't see it. Still haven't. I didn't have the time, I was trying to get ready to move. I don't have a good excuse now.

Nope. No good excuse. Jesus, what's WRONG with me!?

 Aww... Dimples! I love dimples. I think they're so cute.

 Oh, yes...

Most of what I know about him is surprisingly unimpressive. He played the dad on Supernatural, although you'd think those two guys playing the lead characters would look better had they really been his sons. Neither of them would even pass for his nephew- stuff like that bothers me and I know it's stupid but when you can REALLY tell they're not related... Anyway. I saw ONE episode while I was in high school, and I won my reputation as a freak when I stated plainly, when asked which guy I thought was cuter by an over-eager classmate who'd been trying to get me to watch it because I'm "really good with all that stuff"; "Well, I thought their dad was a lot better-looking." And that was the first time I ever heard "daddy issues" thrown my way.

The other night, I ran across a video on YouTube of him on Craig Ferguson's show and I ended up watching ALL OF THEM. I was trying to stay up cos I had to drive my mom and my stepdad to the airport at 4 AM and it was great to have found something that kept my interest enough to keep my ass awake.

Well, I went to the Red Box in front of Walgreens today and rented The Losers, since I was returning a DVD to Netflix (Johnny Suede, this old Brad Pitt movie with Nick Cave playing an albino rock star named Freak Storm. Oh my GOD it was such a bad movie but it was fun.) and I won't be getting another until probably Saturday.

I think I may need to rent it again. It was fucking AWESOME but I don't think I paid enough attention to it because I can't remember what exactly was going on the whole time. I was distracted for a number of reasons, but I loved it and think I may want to own it.

In any case, you know that you've got a problem when you can't watch a movie with a dude you're attracted to without, as soon as he appears onscreen, you saying out loud, "Hey, baby..." and then proceeding to halfway zone out through the whole thing. Maybe I've just been a little too involved with myself lately.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

A rant.

 You know, I've spent the last couple of years trying my damnedest to believe that most people are basically good, and every time I turn around, there's some bitch knocking me down.

Maybe I'm being overly emotional because I'm hormonal and my period started today (FINALLY, I've only been anticipating it for three weeks now!), maybe I'm projecting my own body issues on it, but an article by Maura Kelly of Marie Claire made me so angry I couldn't see straight.

 Basically, the rundown is that she thinks that fat people are disgusting and they shouldn't be shown as happy and in love on TV (the whole thing got started when she was directed to an article on Mike and Molly, a new show about an overweight couple who met at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting) because it may show people that fatties are humans, too. And then when her article started being met with a little vitriol, she pasted on some sorry-ass apology saying that she didn't intend to hurt anyone's feelings and that she was anorexic once, so she knows how it feels.

 No. You don't know how it feels, you judgmental cunt. You CHOSE anorexia. You CHOSE to become a 70-pound stick woman. Sure, you may have lost control towards the end, but that was a lifestyle choice that you made.

 Am I going to sit here and tell you that I don't think being overweight is my fault? No. I'm overweight because I don't exercise. I'm not gonna lie, sometimes I wonder why I'm so lazy when I don't even LIKE feeling lazy. But the fact that major publications are putting this shit out into the world and not just the little Internet Trolls that you'd expect it from? That makes me ill.

 This is the comment I posted after creating an account, so that I could post it:

Well, I guess I'm just a horrible, disgusting person because I'm overweight and I come from a predominantly horrible, disgusting family. People like Maura Kelly ought to be a little less judgmental and a little more open-minded, especially when they write for MAJOR MAGAZINES. How did BS like this slip past an editor? It's hearing/seeing/reading things like this that gradually made me hate myself more and more until I felt like, hey, there's no point in trying anymore, nobody's ever going to love me anyway. Why should I bother trying to get healthy? I'm not worth it inside or out, because as Ms. Kelly here has so eloquently written (note the sarcasm dripping from every word), no overweight person can possibly have anything good about them because they're all fatties and fatties are gross. How can anyone be so cruel as to think that people of all shapes and sizes don't deserve to be publicly loved and appreciated? And that flip little comment about her "plump" friends didn't help her case, cos I'm sure that her definition of "plump" is probably anything over a size 2. I will admit that I can change things about myself, but I'm high-risk for ovarian cysts and that could cause me to gain weight in the future. Will I still be a bad person then, Maura? I'm sorry. I guess I'll just go die in a ditch somewhere and spare the rest of the world the sight of me. Because, hey, 225 lbs is terrible, even though I'm 5'11" and my normal weight range is 165-170 lbs. I'll probably never get below a size 10, lest I become a little emaciated stick woman like you, at which point I hope one of my friends loves me enough to give me an intervention because that isn't something I want for myself.

 I mean it, too. One of my friends better shove the biggest, greasiest, cheesiest cheeseburger down my fucking throat if I ever become an anorexic. That's what a true friend would do. Not lie and tell me I look great when all my Goddamned hair is falling out and my skin turns yellow. I certainly would do it for them.

Of course, maybe I shouldn't be surprised, especially when this bitch also wrote an article a while back about how awful gray hair is. She went gray by the time she was thirty so OF COURSE she had to color it! She looked so OLD! And she also wrote another short piece about chubby actors like Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and Seth Rogen titled something like, "Huggable? Yes. But hot? Not so much." I don't know about you, but I think Seth Rogen is adorable and I'd much rather be with a sweet chubby guy that treated me right than some well-built dickhead that treated me like dog shit.

But this is the sort of thing that's really made me hate myself over the years. Not just because I weigh more than I should, I've made my peace with that and I'm working on it. It's because this bias, this hatred gets indoctrinated into younger people, and then they start treating anyone that doesn't in this little box, one that represents such a small number of people, like they're less. Like they don't deserve respect, just as a human being. I certainly don't agree with excusing unhealthy lifestyles when people start to complain about the consequences (pot, meet kettle, right?) but some people can be overweight AND perfectly healthy. So really, when you say that simply watching a fat person walk across a room disgusts you, you may be tearing down someone who's more healthy than you are.

In all seriousness, though, thanks, Maura. Thank you for confirming what I've always imagined was true, that whenever I go in public, there's some skinny cunt somewhere that's grossed out by my very existence and who's making fun of me, regardless of the fact I've done nothing to deserve it. Thanks for reminding me that most people think I, and other fat people, don't deserve love because we aren't like you. That nobody will ever accept me as I am and that I have to change everything because I'm not "normal".

Fuck off.

Okay... End angry bitch rant. I'm gonna go eat some fucking ice cream because I'm hungry and I don't fucking care anymore. I like ice cream. Deal with it.

UPDATE: I'm sure nobody cares but I removed the link to the post. Mostly so I wouldn't go back, get angry, and feed the trolls.

Friday, October 22, 2010

New look! Oh, and some other stuff.

I like this a lot more. It's easier to see everything.

It was my mom's birthday today, so I spent a lot of time in the living room this evening, but I've finally gotten some time to myself. And I'm tired so I might actually get to bed at a reasonable hour. Or at least not nearly 4 AM.

Today was otherwise pretty blah. I did an online application for Kohl's that IMMEDIATELY got rejected. I'm tired of these eat-shit-and-die messages that you get when your application in rejected, like the fact that it's worded in nice language makes it better. This is the fifth time it's happened. I heard a rumour that if you have a degree or a professional license then some companies won't consider you because that means you'll leave them sooner. I guess that's true, because it's not like I can't put clothes on racks, you know?

But I have a new potential client, a cashier I talked to at Wal-Mart. So there's that.

Anyway, I don't have anything else to say. Later.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

How many times am I gonna do something this stupid?

I totally fucked up today.

I went in for an interview at CVS, and when asked how long I was planning to stay there, I stupidly said, "Probably about six months." I mean, who goes to fucking CVS Pharmacy intending to stay there for the rest of their lives? I figured I would have a week's worth of training, tops, bum around there and save some money up, and quit when I found something better. But they were looking for something a bit more long-term, so I was just told upfront that I wasn't going to get the job. Which I honestly appreciate because I've been jerked around by almost every place I've interviewed at.

When my mom asked me how things went, I told her and she told me I'd screwed up. My dad chewed me out for a good twenty minutes. I feel so stupid. I should have just lied. But I wasn't thinking and instead of licking this guy's asshole and telling him what he wanted to hear, I was honest.

I'm so fucking tired of this shit. Sure, I don't apply for every job that pops up online, but I apply for what I think I'm qualified for. I'm tired of both my parents bitching at me because I can't find a job. I've really been trying, but there are things I just can't do. And if I have to go back to Publix I'll fucking end up killing myself, I just know it. I wanted to when I worked there before. There are few things in the world that I can't handle, and being treated like I'm stupid or unworthy of basic human respect, and I got both in spades when I was just a cashier. People assume that because you're running a register you must be a Goddamned idiot, but that was my first job and I was fucking SEVENTEEN. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?

It's just like when I was working at Trade Secret and when I was in cosmetology school. Everyone seems to assume that you become a hairdresser because you're too fucking stupid to do anything else, and that isn't true for most of us. There are only a handful that I've known that were in school with me because they couldn't hack community college, or their rich mommies and daddies were threatening to cut them off. I wanted to do something I could be artistic with. But I was in for a rude awakening because most of the time you end up doing the same three haircuts on EVERYBODY. Seriously, I can do a long-layered cut in my sleep.

Today didn't start off too great, either. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because I had terrible cramps and my stomach was upset, so I only got about three or four hours of sleep before my mom woke me up to... well, just to make me get up. She wakes up at 4 AM so she doesn't understand that not everybody is on her whacked-out, old person sleep schedule. I don't think my mom is old, but she's on the same time clock as retirees living in Boca Raton. And she worked from home today, which I HATE because I don't get five minutes to myself when she's at home.

Sorry, I know this is a total pity-party but I had a really shitty day.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Stress. It fucking BLOWS.

Today, I spent my day out of the house (our AC is out AGAIN, damn it!) and followed up on a few applications. It went alright- I got leads from Victoria's Secret and Fusion, the salon I interviewed at a week and a half ago. But I'm a bit confused about Toys R Us. I went in to ask to speak with someone about an interview, and I left my name and number. The customer service girl made a note that I had come in rather than just call.

The confusing part? When I checked my email a few hours later, I had gotten a message from the website basically telling me my application had been rejected. So I don't know what's up with that. I don't really want to work in a damn toy store with a bunch of screaming kids running around all day, but I'm tired of being yelled at for being unemployed even though I AM trying.


In other news, I got Sin City in the mail from Netflix today, but since it's hotter than the seventh circle of Hell in my room, I couldn't sit there long enough to watch it. Hopefully the repair guy will show up tomorrow and I can enjoy myself properly, later, though, because it's obviously a late night sort of movie. Besides, I can't watch a gory movie like that when I feel all puky and gross. I might actually throw up.

So instead, while my mom and my stepdad were out with friends, I ate pizza and watched Kick-Ass in the living room. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. But then I got to thinking, and I remembered that Aaron Johnson, the angel-faced 20-year-old that played Kick-Ass, is engaged to a woman 23 years older than he is and they're expecting a baby. I feel kinda bad for him in a way, because as happy as he thinks he is now, he's not going to enjoy his life the way someone his age should. He's only two weeks shy of being EXACTLY one year younger than me. Sometimes I feel a million years old, and sometimes I feel so stupid and inexperienced that I can't imagine having kids anytime soon.

And yet three of my friends have either married or had kids or both since graduating high school. Greenie was the first. She found out she was pregnant about two months after I moved away in 2007. Her son is just over two years old now. And then another friend of ours decided, after only about six months of dating, she and her boyfriend were ready to have a baby together. Her daughter is almost two. And now Pinkie is going to have a baby in a few short months. With a convicted felon.

The only one I'm worried about at this point in Pinkie. I hate, HATE her boyfriend. I tried to get along with him, tried to be nice, and all he did was treat her like shit so now I don't care. I hope the cops catch up with him and he gets murdered in prison, or better yet, becomes some lifer's permanent bitch. He thinks that all we do when we talk is bitch about him. Conceited. And this asshole thinks that I am the immature one.

I can't even get my best friend on the phone to talk to her. To see how she's doing, to talk about the fact that I'm having a hard time right now too. But nobody fucking cares. I've spent my life listening to everyone else's problems and being the best friend that I could, but as soon as I need somebody everyone fucking disappears. It's tiring because when I'm sitting in my room alone feeling like I need to have a good screaming fit but I can't because everyone else is home, all I can think about is the fact that if I were to try and tell someone about it, no matter who it was, I would see one of three things happen:

1. I would be told I was being dramatic and I needed to get over it
2. my problems would be laughed off because for some reason my thoughts and feelings mean nothing
3. my calls would be ignored completely

I don't understand it. Why doesn't my life matter? I care what happens to other people, why don't they care what happens to me? I know I don't have much going on right now, but I've got a lot of psychological stuff I'm trying to deal with and I could use some help.

I know I'm getting upset about something that happens to a lot of people. I can't help it.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Last post for a few days!

I've been having such a week.

I've felt like shit for days because I PMS for about two weeks, and on Sunday, genius me, I kicked my bed frame and cracked my pinky toe. So I've been limping since then. I wasn't even doing it out of anger, I was just getting up there to sit and read a damn book.

Anyway... I spent my day today getting ready for my trip to Orlando. My mom went to a work-related event at Epcot and the company was given 700 free tickets to Disney World. My brother and I have six between us, since nobody else will be using them. So tomorrow, we're driving down and making use of the time we have before we have jobs and can't make trips like that anymore.

My stepsister and her husband and their two small children have been here since Saturday, and it's been a little hectic. So when I finally, FINALLY had a few minutes of peace and quiet while everyone else was out, I popped in my Sherlock Holmes DVD for a Robert Downey Jr. fix.

I kind of half-walked, half-limped to the kitchen (I didn't have any athletic tape on my toes for a few hours, to let the skin breathe, making walking a bit more painful than it's been), made myself some lunch, and stretched out on my bed for maximum RDJ enjoyment.

That's right. I think he's hot. I don't care that he's short, either- in all my fantasies he's like 6'5".

And for the first time in four days, I had an orgasm, while half-listening to some rather brilliant back-and-forth between Holmes and Hotson*. Now, four days without masturbating is a LONG time for me, since I usually do it two or three times a day, but I just haven't felt like it. My sex drive sometimes plummets while I'm all hormonal and shit, and sometimes it doesn't. This time it did.

Of course, the sound of small children running around outside my room didn't exactly put me in the mood. That'll kill the moment for sure.

So my first self-love session in days lasted all of about two minutes, but it was good. I feel better despite the cramps I'm already getting. I'll feel even better in a week or so when my period is over, but for right now I'm okay.

The only really shitty part of today was when my stepdad yelled at me. I hadn't even stepped out of the shower yet- I was giving my legs the final once-over to make sure I hadn't missed any huge patches of hair- and he stood at the door of the bathroom to berate me for a simple mistake. Last week, my mom came home and announced that the car tags had come in, and one was left in the window that said "2003 Toyota", and guess what? I DRIVE A 2003 TOYOTA. I didn't think about the fact that I just replaced my tag in May (two weeks early!), or that it was a Florida tag instead of a Georgia one, I just slapped the sticker on my car and went about my day. Well, apparently it was for my stepdad's car and instead of calmly asking me for the card back he saw fit to call me stupid (not in those words, but still) and I am getting REALLY sick of being treated like an idiot. I don't know how my mom deals with it- he treats her like she can't make a decision for herself and if she disagrees with him suddenly she's stupid, but if my brother or I say ANYTHING that sounds even remotely disrespectful, he flies off the handle.

On one such occasion, he came into my room while I was trying to watch a movie I'd received from Netflix that day, and basically lectured me for twenty minutes about how I'm wasting my life and blah blah blah and how it's "unthinkable" that someone my age has never had a boyfriend and bullshit bullshit BULLSHIT. It's my Goddamned choice to not just go out and find any dumbass that'll have me. I'm willing to wait for what I want, and while I don't want Prince Fucking Charming I do have a few standards that HAVE to be met, like:

1. They can't be stupid. Like, I can forgive someone who's a bit goofy, but if you're just an out-and-out moron then we won't have anything to talk about.

2. It sounds ridiculously shallow, but he has to be at least two or three inches taller than me. This is because I am tall (5' 11") and I want to feel small. Unless it's a woman, then I could really give a shit.

3. I don't care if he's a bit overweight, or not really, really, ridiculously good-looking. Just so long as he isn't the Human Blob (already had that after me, don't care to have it again) or, you know... looks like he went bobbing for French fries at some point or something.

And of course, there are the other minor details of what I like and what I don't. But believe it or not, I have met a man or two that fit every description and they're either married or just plain uninterested. So it may be a while before I meet someone, and like I said, I'm willing to wait.

It's killing me a tiny bit inside every day, but I'll wait.

And with that, I'll sign off because there's more laundry to be done and it's getting late! See ya!

* Hotson is Watson played by Jude Law. Their joke, not mine. it totally works, though.

UPDATE: I spent a ton of money I didn't have to spend, but I had a great time in Orlando, last night's hormone-fueled meltdown notwithstanding. I got presents for my mom (birthday AND Christmas!), a really cool coffee mug and an awesome Alice in Wonderland top that just looks like a nice top you could buy in a department store. I think I'll make her a pair of earrings to wear with it.

The only bad thing? I can barely walk. I really pushed it yesterday and I'm paying for it. My brother was going too fast for me at the end of the day and I was moving like a zombie in fast-forward. And then I had to drive home today, so now my toes feel like someone smashed them with a sledgehammer. Being at Disneyworld and trying to get on and off some of the rides was so difficult, because I didn't have my glasses- I can see fine without them but my depth perception is so bad. Sure, it makes for a more interesting ride (seriously, have you ever ridden a roller coaster and screamed because you thought part of the ride was going to hit you in the face?) but it's not something you want to deal with in your day-to-day life.

Also, what kind of moron takes a four-year-old on the motherfucking Tower of Terror? I heard so many screaming kids in that building that my ears are STILL ringing.

When I'm not so tired I'm going cross-eyed I'll write more. Later!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

I shouldn't be left alone with my thoughts. Really.

Earlier today, while finishing up my computer desk (I FINALLY got that part that was missing when we bought the damned thing), I got to thinking.

My parents are flawed, but ultimately wonderful people. Both have been pretty accepting of the way I've lived my life, because they've seen so many other kids (friends of mine included- both Pinkie and Greenie got pregnant young as well as a couple of others) screw up royally and I haven't fallen into any of those traps. The only thing I do that pisses either of them off is I'm a total homebody and beyond working, I don't really care much about having a life. I go to movies on occasion, usually alone, and I love hanging out in bookstores. But aside from that? I like reading, watching stuff, and indulging in the various hobbies I've picked up over the years in order to keep myself sane. It makes me happy.

Let's say that I, as I fantasize about nearly constantly, start seeing an older man. I don't think they'd like it too much. I'm not sure why, because hopefully I would find someone that treated me well, unlike these little shits I grew up with that weren't taught to respect women, but I can't imagine it going over well. It's like, "Hi, I'm your daughter in her early twenties, and I'm dating this wonderful guy in his early thirties. Oh, you didn't even know I was into guys? That's probably because I never talked about stuff like that with you. It's awkward. Don't give me that look, it is! Oh, yeah, I'm sure you would've loved to know your daughter was checking out a thirty-six-year-old kiwi at that Flight of the Conchords meet-and-greet! You really wanna have this conversation? Okay! Guess what? I mostly was staring at his ass! Yeah, over other people's heads! The one time being tall actually paid off!"

I can't even bring myself to think about what my dad would say. I know my stepdad wouldn't keep his mouth shut if you held a gun to his head, so I can run through a decent simulation of that, but my biological dad? That, I can't even think about.

As much as they annoy the living shit out of me, and as much as I value being my own person, I wouldn't be able to take my family's disapproval. I want them to be proud of me. There are a lot of times when, especially with my mom, I feel like I'm a source of embarrassment on some level. I'm not like my mom's friends' kids in any way. They're predominantly A-students and straight-laced to the point of being boring, and I'm a B-student at best (I had a few subjects I excelled in and I was pretty shit at everything else) and I'm artistic, both in personality and appearance. I'm not a "go-getter". At ALL.

Even if it was a normal, healthy, loving relationship, I feel like it would probably kill my mom on the inside if I dated a man more than five years my senior. And that, in turn, would kill me on the inside because it's what I want and I don't want to disappoint anybody.

It's not so much that I'm afraid of being judged- I get that all the time so I'm used to it- but I can't stand the thought of seeing that look of, "Where in God's name did I fuck up to make this shit happen?" on my mom's face. She's told me that she doesn't really care if I ever have kids (which I hope is true because I'm not entirely sure I want them, and if I do ever raise children they'll be adopted, or stepchildren) and she's been accepting of so many things I've done. I mean, how many parents actually say you did the right thing when you tell them you want to go to beauty school? Most people just see it as a last resort or something you do when you're too dumb to do anything else, but both my parents were incredibly supportive. And once she got used to the idea, she relented and said that while she didn't like that I had a tattoo (I have a Vegvisir*, a kind of Viking compass, on my left shoulder), at least it wasn't huge. I want more of them, but I don't want to be covered in ink. Side note- my next, when I can afford it, will be a flock of Ralph Steadman-style bats on my wrist, a la Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas cos it's one of my favorite movies (and books!) and I'm sort of obsessed with bats. And octopi, and birds, and mechanical stuff, and jewelry that looks like plants. But that's another blog post.

Sorry, got a little off-topic there.

Anyway... I guess I won't know what's going to happen until it happens. But that won't stop me from worrying about it.

* Here are pictures: 

The text roughly translates to "Whoever this character will not get lost in the storm or being outside and find their way as the young unknown, however" which is HORRIBLY translated. I would have written it as "Sá sem klæðist þessu starfi, skulu aldrei vera glataður í hvaða stormur", or, "Whoever wears this character shall never be lost in any storm".

Yes. I'm an Icelandic geek. Sue me.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

I think I may need a new computer chair...

Some photos from the new Campari calendar were released. Benicio "Sexypants" Del Toro is the first-ever male to model for the calendar (previous models included Eva Mendes, Jessica Alba, and Salma Hayek) and JESUS EFFIN CHRIST, YOU GUYS.

These pictures are... incredible...

Oh, Hell yes.

He looks amazing- only a few months ago, around the time "The Wolfman" came out, he was a little pudgy and washed-out, and now? He caused an entire group of fangirls (I belong to a community, don't judge me, I know I'm a stupid fangirl) to collectively cream their pants the second these photos hit the boards.

More sexyness:

And just because, a behind-the-scenes picture of Beni looking at the photos he'd just taken.
What a looker!

He's just too much sometimes. I watch his movies and just think about everything I want to do to him. The first time I ever seriously did that was when I first saw "Snatch", but I had a nice little thing going when I went to see "The Wolfman", too. There was enough bare flesh to keep it going. And as Frankie Four Fingers in "Snatch"? He was suave and cool and had an accent. And there was a shot of him pantsless- didn't see any fun bits but still. Nice legs, Beni.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to be alone with myself and the fantasy that these images gave me. Later!

P.S. -

I never thought I would say ANYTHING like this, but I kinda wish I was Michael Douglas.

UPDATE: Okay, so I was mistaken, all of those are behind-the-scenes shots. Still gorgeous, though.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Seriously, Mom, stop talking about my vagina.

For the past week or so, my mom's been reminding me that I need to go to get another pap smear.

Look. I know it's been nearly three years, but I don't have health insurance. I would love nothing more than to know what's up with my lady parts (not really) but I can't even afford to put gas in my car right now. I'm down to my last $80. The job hunt isn't going as well as I'd hoped and while I've moved back home, I'm still being cut off and my mom isn't helping me with the stuff I need on a day-to-day basis. I don't even having anything valuable to sell, it's not like I'm sitting on a goldmine.

My family, on the maternal side, has a lot of reproductive problems. My grandmother, both my aunts, and my mother all had fibroids. One of my aunts had to have an emergency hysterectomy when she was twenty-six because she didn't get them treated.

And people wonder why I don't want to pass on my defective genes.

I'm worried about all that stuff, don't get me wrong. I'm starting to get irregular again. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about it.

I just can't go to the doctor just now.

Friday, September 3, 2010

This is what I get for doing someone a favor.

Ugh. Today was exhausting.

A lady my mom works with asked if I could help her get some professional hair color, because her stylist moved away and the last person that did her hair did it wrong. I was all too happy to meet up with her and help her pick something out, which I had done with my mother before at this very shop and it hadn't been a problem.

The manager of this store, ever since I've moved back, has been rude to me whenever I've been in there. She apparently has a problem with me because I'm not really a regular. She always asks me, in a nasty tone, if I'm a stylist. So this lady and I were picking out hair color, and the manager comes up and starts getting all pissy with me because she doesn't recognise me. After we paid for the stuff, I was on my way out, and she stopped me outside the store and told me that I was "cheating the stylists" by doing this lady's color for her.

What. The. Fuck.

I AM a stylist! And this woman I was doing the favor for? She knows people. This shit may help me get a job. So why should I feel bad about doing something nice for someone who can help me and who is friends with my mom?

Needless to say, I'm not going back to that place. I'll get the color somewhere else.

I honestly think that most of the issues stem from the fact that I don't look "normal". Not that I looked that weird- I was wearing a black and platinum blonde wig, mostly-black clothes but I was covered-up, my glasses, and coal-black eyeshadow with red sparkles in it. Nothing too out-there, really. But I guess I'm a circus freak that deserves nothing but contempt. And people are usually nicer to me when I wear my glasses, too. I don't know what it is, but they are. But her and her frumpy old lady clothes are obviously superior.

I've had trouble for years with people treating me badly because of my appearance, but it still kinda fucks with me sometimes. Especially when I was pretty tame-looking today and got all that bullshit thrown at me. I hate people like her. I hate living in this small-minded community. There's nothing wrong with me. It's all to do with them.

UPDATE: I went to go get some more haircolor last week, and the manager was strangely nice to me. I think she recognised me and she'd afraid I'll go to corporate. I actually feel kind of bad for her, she has to know that none of her customers like her.

Monday, August 23, 2010

I Want a Friend With Benefits. Badly.

I wish I wasn't borderline agoraphobic. I might have an easier time meeting new people. It's just so hard... I feel like I'm constantly being judged (isn't everybody, though?) and going out in public and interacting with other people just seems like a bad idea once you've seen women pull their children away from you because you're nearly six feet tall and have purple hair. I've never actually given strangers a reason to think I'm going to murder their children, so why do they act like I'm just about to snap and start taking out all my rage on a four-year-old?

Mostly, I just want to be in a long-term relationship. I do want to get married one day- it's the traditional, hardcore romantic in me- but I want to experience things a bit before I settle down. I'm twenty-one, I have some years. Love is the thing I want most in the world, because I feel like outside of my family, nobody I've ever known gives a shit about me. Not really. I always try my hardest to give my friends everything I can, until I've got nothing left to give. If I care about you, you'll know. You'll never be lacking a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, company when you want it... But the problem with that is, I always end up as the Agony Aunt and I'm fucking sick of it. I have only known of two men in the world that saw me as a sexual being; one was Mister Gumby, Pinkie's drug-addled, semi-retarded uncle, and the other, G.I. Joe, was the boyfriend of an ex-roomate that was still dating the girl I used to live with when he asked me to have sex with him.

The worst part?

I almost did it. I came this fucking close because I figured, hey, I'll probably be a virgin until I'm thirty otherwise. But I managed to get back to reality and the fact that I would hate myself forever, even if this girl never found out about it; I didn't enjoy living with her and I was happy when she moved out, but I didn't hate her and I certainly didn't hate her enough to fuck her boyfriend. I mean, I'm not even attracted to the guy. At all. He might as well be smooth as an actual G.I. Joe down there. I'm really not into Southern guys- either they're dickless little church boys or they're good ol' boys that hunt and fish and do other things I'd rather peel my eyelids off with a rusty can opener than do. This one was the latter.

That's pretty soul-crushing when you realise that you had to stop and think about it before you nearly, while completely sober, gave your virginity to someone you're not even halfway close to being attracted to in any way. It shouldn't have even crossed my mind, but since I'm so lonely and horny and confidence-less I almost took him up on it. And it wasn't even, "I want you, I've always wanted you", it was, "You wanna fuck?" Just tossed out like a small comment on the weather. I'd thought he was joking in the beginning but after he asked a second time I realised he was serious. My friends almost didn't believe me when I told them about it the next day, until I showed them a note he'd left me on my windshield apologising for his behaviour, he was being a jerk, blah blah blah... I still have it somewhere because I know it's all bullshit and I'm still not entirely sure, after more than a month, how it makes me feel.

Something always pissed me off about a couple of other girls I lived with. We'll call them Blonde Skank and Anorexia. Both of them were so slutty and yet they seemed to have such high standards as far as physicality goes. The most I ask for is someone who's not a toad. Neither of them was any better-looking than me, but because they aren't shy and insecure, men were all over them, and if I went out with them I'd just end up receding into the shadows. I recall a particularly offensive conversation with Anorexia (who, by the way, wasn't skinny but she never ate) when, after a date with a drop-dead gorgeous guy (6'7", long blonde hair, incredible body, ice-blue eyes, showed up in a Punisher T-shirt), she told me she wouldn't go out with him again. Why? Because he had a big scar on his arm from a motorcycle crash. She was also pissed that he'd made her wear a leather jacket (during the summer, granted) so, in the event they crashed, she wouldn't end up with a chunk taken out of her arm, too. That made me ill. If I'd thought I would've had a snowball's chance in Hell of getting him, I would've stolen his number off her phone when I realised that she'd left it on the counter. Instead, this picky bitch was saying shit like, "I'll never date a man that has gray hair" or "Uncircumcised penises are gross".

Blonde Skank was no better. She was dumb as a post and kept going back to a guy that:

1. was a White Supremacist
2. beat her
3. got her addicted to meth
4. used to date her mother
5. beat her

I had to change my number because they thought it would be funny to start harassing me. I got a phone call at 7 AM, just before I normally woke up to go to school, that was this dude jacking off and telling me he wanted to come in my eyeballs. I also got voicemails that were loud slurping noises, and many, many others, to the point I was scared to answer my phone. All this from a private number. I had never even given Blonde Skank my number in the first place- she took it off Anorexia's phone. I went to the one shop in town for my cell phone carrier and asked if there was any way they could pull this private number up and block it for me, or if they could give me some information so I could press harassment charges, but they just looked at me as if I were singing Hare Krishna and spitting nickels.

So I would sit there and get made fun of on a daily basis because I'm still a virgin. I probably knew a lot more about my own sexuality than they did about theirs, even more so now, but somehow it's not okay to be a virgin until you meet someone you at least trust enough to share your body with. Yeah, it's fucking hilarious that I don't know what cum smells like, laugh it up, bitches. I won't be the one with every STD known to man by the time I hit twenty-five.

These two would also make fun of me for not fucking any of my male friends. I've had a lot of dicks around, it's true, but I never touched or even saw any of them. All of them were either gay, taken, or uninterested. I got the impression the straight ones would probably rather have sex with another dude than me. Oh, but I was respected. Great. That's fucking awesome. I can totally masturbate to the memory of my getting all respected. One of them, I'll call him the Lizard King (Lizard for short), was telling me about one of his fuck buddies that he didn't like very much and I actually said, "Oh, so you'll do stuff like that with her, someone you barely can even stand, but not with me?"
"Well, I have a lot of respect for you."
"Uh... Okay..." Not the answer I was looking for. And it's not like Lizard didn't have an open at any point. He had me alone in his room on several occasions, and clearly I was interested because what kind of moron just keeps talking to you after you give them every fucking reason not to and giving you shit all the time (I lent him books and movies, and made him CDs a lot because I didn't have any other friends that shared those interests) without any sort of ulterior motive? I fucking loved him and either he's the dumbest motherfucker on the planet and didn't know, or he did and chose not to address it until our friendship imploded just before I moved away. Probably the latter, he was a smart guy. He certainly made me feel stupid.

So all this being ignored by the male (and, let's face it, with the exception of one, female) population, it's made me feel like I'm really unattractive. I already had ten million pounds of Insecure I was hauling around, I didn't need anyone else to make it worse. And, like I mentioned before, I get looked at like an escaped circus freak. That's mostly why my hair is platinum now, so I don't even have to deal with the baggage that comes with having black hair. I got so many nasty stares when my hair was green (God, I loved that color though, it was dark, oceanic blue-green when I put it on and it faded to an incredible emerald shade), more than when my hair was rainbow-colored. And, sorry, I like, no, I love my funky eyeshadow. My favorite color is green, of course I'm gonna have about twenty different shades. I like every color but brown. And I like matching my eye makeup to whatever I'm wearing. I figure, if I'm gonna bother putting makeup on every fucking day, I'm gonna have fun with it. My sense of style is Goth-punk-steampunk-casual, and I can't go anywhere in my stompy boots without mothers pulling their children away as if they're afraid I'd go on a Godzilla-like rampage and smash them underneath my enormous (women's size 10) feet. I would love to know why it is that people can't look like individuals, rather than carbon-copies of each other.

And the things that people look at in a positive light, I can't even handle- I can't take a fucking compliment to save my life. I've gotten so used to derogatory comments and nasty looks and generally feeling like shit about myself, that I can't stand for anyone to say anything nice. Immediately, I just wonder what the Hell they want from me. What their motives are. So I'd probably still freak out if someone I was actually interested in were to, dare I say it, flirt with me.

Almost every day, I think of something Blonde Skank once said to me. "God will give you somebody when you're ready for it." Now, my first thought was, big talk from someone dating a guy that beats her. And now? I feel like I'm ready. I'm no less ready than she was, for sure. I don't understand why, when I've always tried to better myself in some way, even just small ways, and there's no way that someone I was with would ever want for love and affection... Why do I get passed over in favor of someone who's simply got a better body than I do? I know that men are men and all that, but there has to be somebody in the world who'd rather have someone like me than some skinny girl that has nothing else going for her.

Oh, and P.S. on that whole "You wanna fuck?" business... The only way I would've said yes (emphatically!) would be if it was someone who looked like this:

The only words out of my mouth would've been, "You got a condom? Cos I'm totally into safe sex."

I mean... could you resist this smile?

UPDATE: I just realised I never explained something I referred to up there. Just after my junior year of high school, I was still dressing all shlumpy and still had my long, boring, dishwater-blonde hair. I went to the mall before my guitar lesson one Saturday, and while I was in Hot Topic looking at the T-shirts (I have like a million T-shirts. When I lose weight I'm gonna make some other kinds of shirts out of them because DAMN I can't wear them all.) I was approached by what I thought was a twelve-year-old boy and soon realised was a very boyish-looking girl.

Now, I hadn't even really sexually awakened yet, but I knew that butch wasn't my thing, so I kind of freaked out. All she said was, "Hey, do you think I'm cute?"

As the guy working in the store that day recalled (in front of one of my friends I hadn't told about this incident yet) I turned white, tossed out some weird combination of "I'm straight" and "I have a boyfriend" and then I tore ass out of there.

Needless to say, it wasn't really a step up from the Human Blob I'd been stalked by freshman year. And that wouldn't have been so bad had he not been a total creepazoid about liking me.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the one and only time I've ever been hit on by a woman. Before I'd even turned seventeen.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

I've Been Thinking a Lot Today.

I got to talk to Pinkie today, for about two hours, and we got to talking about guys. Again.

She complained a bit about hers, and listened to me complain a bit about my lack thereof. Long as we've known each other, she knows I would give anything just to have somebody to bitch about. She told me about the old Canadian guy that her boyfriend had invited to move in without really asking her, and that he was talking about having his ugly, misbehaving kids come to spend a weekend with him in their trailer. I said, "Some people just shouldn't be allowed to breed. I mean, it's not like I have the greatest set of genes to pass on but that's mostly because of health-related issues." And then I had a thought.

"Maybe it would be best for me to just find somebody older. Like, who had kids really young and he's divorced. Being a stepmom would be just as good, right?"

I think that's what I want. I'd probably have to wait a few years to work that out, but it seems ideal. I had already, about six months ago, decided to adopt rather than have children of my own. For a number of reasons:

1. I have a long list of small-ish health problems, but they're overwhelming when combined. I have issues with my digestion (I barely ate any dairy at all for about six years before that problem just vanished suddenly), a lot of ridiculous allergies (SOAP!? Really?), eczema, and a bad back. I don't want my child (or children) to grow up the way I did, having to explain to your best friend that you can't eat that ice cream cake or you'll be sick, or always walking around with either a sinus headache or snot dripping out of your nose, or scratching bits of your skin off in your sleep because you itch so badly, or hurting all the time because of the curve in your spine. God forbid they end up with asthma like my brother did.

2. There are so many children in this country that need to be adopted. If their parents didn't want them, I'll take them. They deserve love, too.

3. I'm afraid pregnancy might literally kill me. I'm sick or in pain all the time as it is, I can't imagine what it would be like, especially in the third trimester. Not to mention all the problems my mom had; she had five miscarriages before she got pregnant with me. I don't think I could handle one, let alone five. And the only reason I managed to stick around was because she got progesterone shots all the time. Reproductive problems (along with crazy) run on that side of my family and I'd rather just avoid it. I'll probably end up getting a hysterectomy before I'm sixty anyway.

I'm only twenty-one but I think about my future constantly. Although, one could say I'm getting a bit ahead of myself because I've never even been on a date before, let alone had a boyfriend. I've been in love, but that caused me nothing but pain.

Still, I remain optimistic and I hope that one day I'll have someone who can look at me and say, "You know, you're a bit funny in the head and you're probably the most neurotic mess I've ever seen, but I love you all the same." I know I'll never be a Grade-A piece of meat but I'd hope that I have more to offer than that. I'm always trying to learn new things, whether it be job-related (like getting technique DVDs for cuts and styles or attending makeup demos at the MAC counter) or just a new hobby (I make jewelry, crochet badly, and am currently trying to teach myself Icelandic and Finnish). I'm a total geek that loves more than anything to read, watch movies, and listen to music and then talk about it with my friends. Seriously, if I watch a movie and love it, everyone knows. I recently watched 21 Grams and didn't shut up about it for a week. Mostly because, I know it's supposed to be tragic and he's a convict and all that, but Jack Jordan (Benicio Del Toro) is so sexy in that movie. There's real sadness in his jade-green eyes, and I found myself wanting to stroke his thick gray hair (which looked like he cut it himself) and tell him it would be alright. And that sex scene with Melissa Leo? It was tasteful and really sexy up until it went back to being sad again. Something you can't say about the one with Sean Penn and Naomi Watts.

Um... What was I talking about..? Oh yeah...
That's what makes Valentine's Day so difficult for me. Not the fact that I don't have anyone to spend it with, but the constant reminders from everyone around me that supposedly you're some pathetic loser if you're alone and don't have anyone showering you with gifts. To me, it would otherwise just be another day. I don't care. I'll be alright until I find what I'm looking for. I just wish everybody didn't feel the need to make me feel like shit and remind me that I should be lonely, which makes me feel very lonely. Thanks, assholes, seriously.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

First post!

Well... Here, anyway. I have another blog, but it's mostly where I go and bitch about everyday things that happen to me and I have like one reader.

I thought I would use this one as an opportunity to semi-anonymously talk about my sexuality, It's something I've thought a lot about the last few years- I only figured out how to masturbate when I was sixteen- and I've been learning things about myself in the process.

To name a few:

Last summer, I realised, rather anticlimactically, that yes, I do like girls. Big fucking deal. I still prefer men, but damn if I haven't seen quite a few ladies in the last few years that were drool-worthy in my mind. The catalyst that made me discover this? I was reading a magazine. Fader, to be exact, a feature on Bat For Lashes. I never made a secret of the fact that I thought Natasha Khan was beautiful, but this... felt different. I paid a lot more attention to the slight curves in her slender body, the swell of her small, plump breasts, the lovely bow of her perfect lips... And the thought ran across my mind, "I want her." Perfectly casual, and not at all scary or confusing. I wanted to kiss her, to suck and lick and play with her pretty little tits, to find out if she was shaven or not. And I've never looked back.

I also have a BIG thing for older men. My ideal man? Benicio Del Toro. I first came upon that particular realisation when I went to see The Wolfman back in February. I had just gotten my lip pierced (had to take it out a couple of months later, it rejected) and I was holding a piece of ice on the inside of my mouth, leering at him in his heavy, multi-layered, Victorian finery the same way I would have if he'd been completely naked. I had never really found him attractive before, but all of a sudden I was having these crazy sex fantasies about him. Now I've widened his range of roles in my dreams (both day and night) because I've seen more of his movies. And usually, he's got completely gray hair. I think he's totally sexy with gray hair, and I'm not sure why because it's not something I really find attractive in other men (well... that's not entirely true, but I usually only like gray in pieces) but on him it's sexy as Hell.

And fuck you if you don't like that about me. That goes for all my friends that give me shit about it. You can keep your weird, girlish pretty-boys, I'll take my gray-haired manly man any day. If I wanted to fuck someone who looked like a woman I would just fuck a woman.

I'll write more when I'm not about to pass out in exhaustion. Later!