Part deux of "getting to know me" as Banjo Eyes stares at me with those sad little eyes wondering, "Where's my walk, bitch?!"

What is your favourite childhood memory?
Well, its not early childhood, but more like teenage years. That would be my first job at El Torito as a hostess. Good times and LOTS of bad ones. More than anything, lots of growing up occured during those years and if I could, I would LOVE to do it all over again.

If you were reincarnated, what would you like to come back as?
I would like to come back as a German mountain-climber with long braids and an all over even tan in 1930's Bavaria. Or perhaps a Parisian model in 1950's France? Anything as long as I still get to be tall and have some fun.

Best present you’ve ever received?
That would be the trip to Europe my old friend, Scott gave me back in 2004. He pretty much paid for everything including my meals and never asked for a dime. What a prince. We went to Paris and London for two weeks and froze our asses off which prompted Scott to declare that the Eiffel Tower in Vegas was "much better." We both got sick during the trip but at different times and spent most of our days trying to stay dry.

Favourite way to chill out?
At home!!! I don't like going out. I like movies, hot chocolate, my computer and reading.

What is your most admirable quality?
I have a GREAT sense of humor. Seriously. I feel like such a douche for even saying how awesome I am, but really, I know how to laugh and make others laugh too.

What is your greatest achievement?
I don't really like this question because society has all of these expectations about what people should achieve in thier lives and we all have different ideas about what "achievements" are. Mine would be meeting some of the world's most interesting, hilarious and creative people during the course of my life. I've done a lot and seen a bunch of different places in the world, thus, I've learned a lot. I've made it out of the country and most people never will.

selfage

I love answering these types of interview questions. Since my day to day life is no where nearly as exciting as my brain and the opinions that are stored there, I know this will make for a much more interesting read sometime in the future. Taking the plunge...

What’s your favorite language?
What a coincidental way to begin this! Its no secret to myself and those that know me know that my heart beats only for the German language. While I have never fully mastered it, I get so much pleasure from hearing and reading it. Learning new things is a cinch and just comes really naturally for me. French sounds like mush, Spanish is fun and its always helpful to understand the telenovelas, but German is the language of conquering, warrior, mountain climbers!

What you will never wear?
I have a very strong aversion to pleather or anything that is supposed to be leather but isn't. I figure, this is the one thing that will last forever and only look better with age so its worth it to spend the money and have it. Ironically, producing sythentic products in an attempt to have a vegan or "green" wardrobe produces way more pollution and will likely end up in a landfill than something that is a byproduct of the meat industry. Sad but true. Wait, what was the question? Oh yeah, and I'll never wear Crocs. Blech.

What’s your favorite song ever?
Ever? That's a lot of pressure on me to pick just ONE song and not to mention tons of pressure on the one song that's got to get me through life! But I'm gonna pick "Amarillo By Morning" by George Strait. Man, I've been stone cold drunk and crying AND laughing my ass off while riding a mechanical bull during different times in my life and that song's been playing. Plus its about the rodeo and bullriding. What's not to love about that shit?

One thing you could not live without.
I couldn't live without internet access. Life fucking sucked before the wonderful interwebs came about and while I liken the computer to crack cocaine laced with heroin and angel dust, it serves its practical purposes. Without the internet I never would have: met my best friend, found my dog, Banjo Eyes and score a whole bunch of shit without ever having to step foot in a retail store. Heavenly.

When do you tell a lie?
This sucks, but lying is one of my worst habits. I lie for many reasons but mostly because I don't want to hurt people's feelings. I'm human so that means I lie to protect my own ass on occasion. It also means that sometimes lying is just so much easier than telling the truth. But the avoidance of hurting people is the main reason that I commit this horrible sin. That, and well, I needs to keep my secrets. Some things you just have to keep to yourself, you know?

listless

I'm really always just trying to get away. I need to stay away from the internet because it truly handicaps me. Not only does it make me believe that I can do almost anything, go anywhere and purchase whatever I desire, I end up wasting valuable time. Only to find out that other people are advancing and making progress in their lives while I'm stuck on pause or trying to wind five miles of audio tape back into the cartridge with a pencil.

I had several hundred dollars accumulated only to find it disappear into the coffers of everyday life. Now the medical bills are starting to roll in and since I don't have a job, I don't have a choice. I'm trying very hard not to focus on the negative stuff since I'm having an extremely slow recovery and I'm a HUGE believer in "mind over matter." To make things even more extreme, the summer is officially here and anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am not a HEAT person. Anything over 70 degrees makes me unhappy, sweaty, and cranky. No money, plus heat, plus surgery woes equals a suicidal me.

The most important thing that must take place is a balance of daily activities and self control. I can't purchase things online if I want to get to Europe this winter. That means eliminating the source of the problem alltogether, the random surf of the interwebs. I need to spend more time reading, blogging, photographing, churching and limiting the material desires of my wallet and leather addictions. Starting.... NOW!

tattoo beat

Its been one week since I was last tattooed. Spencer's card doesn't lie when it says "I'm not the cheapest, just the slowest." I can't imagine having anything other than the absolute best work done by one of the best artists and I'm so lucky that he decided to take on my left arm sleeve.

The pain is minimal during and after the sessison, but the bruising is unreal. Having looked like I was beat to shit by someone that I pissed off really badly, there wasn't much sensation coming from the purple and blue halo of hurt tissue that surrounded my praying hands. The yellowing is taking over and I'm hoping it will heal soon especially since there's this tiny swelling occuring in a lower arm vein. Here's to hoping its not a blood clot since I don't really want to die before my sleeve is finished. Its not a blood clot, by the way. I hope...

How much do I love it that I got to be in the very same room as Spencer Briggs, Shawn Barber and Kim Saigh? Talent fucking overload. Which one of us doesn't belong? Um, me? Yeah, that kind of surrealness doesn't happen very often. Or when Shawn Barber offers you a peanut butter cookie and pays the valet for your car parking? I paid him back.

The next session is in August and its something that I'm not dreading. Normally, I see getting tattoed as a burden. Paying a lot of money for something that takes time, requires patience and then leaving in discomfort, is not my idea of money well spent. But having tattoos that are better than any accessory in any store? Best purchase ever?

a new day

A month has passed since my myomectomy. Most of my pain has subsided but what's left over is the most annoying discomfort of all. I'm tired most of the time, still have lots of pain when I first wake up in the morning and still can't sit comfortable. The most comfortable position is usually lying down on my back, as my side feels enormous pressure in my abdomen on both my left and right sides. When I roll over, the sensation is that of all my guts, blood, and lymphatic fluid tossing about within me as I turn. And I can hear it.

The worst is being tired all of the time.

so unbelievably...

depressed... Am I ever going to get better. Is this searing abdominal pinch ever going to subside? And will my dog ever stop costing money because of health problems and other expenses? I want to be able to sleep on my side and not wake up in my own sweat because I've been sleeping in considerable discomfort in the same position for the last 8 hours.

I'm over it. I'm over it.

whew

Healing. Stress. Excited. I hope I can hang on for nearly a week while Emily is here with her boys. Tomorrow Germany plays Argentina. If they can beat this team, I know Germany will have the strength to perhaps win it all.

Its hot outside and I'm not too stoked on spending lots of time outside. And I wish I could afford a haircut.

day 16

It's been over two weeks since I had my fibroids removed. Blech. That word is so weird and disgusting. It sounds like an alien, robot, muscle mass. I still have:

* very slight trouble getting in an out of bed
* wake up in almost EXTREME pain as my muscles are sore each morning
* haven't have much of an appetite even though I should be pigging out
* still bleeding
* my skin around my bikini line feels super sensitive
* groin chicken bones feel like I've been kicked
* totally winded sometimes, struggle to maintain my breath
* sometimes I'm sweating in my sleep, probably due to discomfort

The positive points include:

* I can drive now!
* I can move most of my body without feeling pain
* as the day goes on, my muscles become warmed up
* I can lie on my side and not just on my back
* I'm starting to have regular poops!

I know there are more positive points, its just hard to remember them all. I'm also trying to pray regularly and be reminded that people suffer every day with pain and have no refuge. At least mine is expected to end some day. I truly desire solace in the Lord and know that He will watch after me no matter what. I KNOW this, it comforts me and brings me extreme peace as I know that there is an end in sight for my post-surgery pain.

I still don't know if I will be able to go to Disneyland with Emily, but the other days she is here I will be fine for the activities.

and I did this because?...

Yesterday was the two week mark of my myomectomy procedure. Having an extremely large tumor removed and one small one was more pain than I expected. I feel really tired all the time not to mention I have a swollen belly and skin that feels like sandpaper is being applied with each step and breath I take.

I'm trying to think of reasons as to WHY I needed this surgery, I guess in my warped sense of necessity, having a 400 gram muscle mass crushing your uterus isn't enough. I didn't really have any of the major symptoms but I guess removing it while I could is better than walking around with it inside of my belly. Not to mention, the longer I postponed the surgery, the larger the thing would grow since it was showing no signs of shrinking on its own accord. Gross.

Now I need to recover. Its taking a lot longer than I really truly expected. I've two previous procedures and it was hands down the worst shit I've ever experienced. I HATE surgery. I'd rather be hungover for a month straight than do this. I just gotta stick it out and hope that I'm tip top by the time Emily and her boys show up on July 2nd. Praying for it!

misconception

It's not that people are not always what they seem, it's that given certain circumstances, consequences or rewards, people are capable of anything.

blogging sucks

But at least I can use this to make a list of the material posessions I wish to acquire.

1. iPhone 4 - I deserve a serious phone for once and I do believe that cellular communictions have reached its pinnacle with this fine piece of technology

2. Camp Chef Denali Stove - this is going to make my camping life a lot easier with the stove and mini grill combo. Plus it doubles as emergency equipment. win/win

3. a large order from deepdiscountdvd.com - I've already ordered my Donna Reed Show Seasons 1 & 2 and I'm jonesing to add some more horror to my collection.

4. Roku - I have over 200 titles in my watch instantly cue that I need to view, this would help me catch up for sure.

I need to prioritize and this is just a sampling of all of the things I'm dying to own that would make my life easier... I all about the easy.

happening

I turned on the radio today to listed to the traffic report. To learn that this fucking oil spill is 36 days old is appauling. I have no television but can still see that the response from Obama and his administration has been anything but immediate and one of concern. So I turned off the radio as my stomach literally began to churn and cramp and such despairing world events.

I am grateful that I'm strong in my faith at this point in my life. I grow stronger everyday and am so comforted by the Lord and his presence. The one thing that no one can ever take away from me is my relationship with Him because it is nothing that I discuss with anyone. Some things you just gotta keep for yourself.

This Friday I leave for Las Vegas. I'm really not excited about this trip. I'm a bit burned out on Vegas. I'm not too thrilled to drink when I just want to spend time with my dog, watch some movies and wind down since I'm having surgery in two weeks. I'm sure I'll feel fine once the travel day gets here.

instead of

I really should be writing about how mankind has abandoned God instead of vice versa or important spiritual or personal issues but I don't have the heart for that any more. As I get older I can stomach that cruel subject matter less and less as I retreat more and more into the nether regions of shallowness. So, with that being said, I'm going to stick my head in the sand like an ostrich and have some fun.

Vegas is a week from tomorrow. In the spirit of my, like, tenth trip with Emily, I thought I should make a top five list of my favorite things about the town.

1. The Atomic Bar and Liqours - Hands down my most favorite bar in the history of the world. $1 beer, a jukebox that doesn't suck and a discount cigarette machine. In all honesty, that is all I need. Well, maybe $1 pizza slices would make it complete, but maybe not having Jimbo prepare food is a good thing.

2. The Drive - I LUV driving. Music, the desert, and a stop for some food. Wow, I'm really starting to sound simple with easy expectations. But most importantly, I can play the music as loud as I want and sing the words without anyone staring at me. At least for long, which is hard to do when your passing someone at 85 mph.

3. Smoking is Allowed! - Its okay to drink but not smoke in California? Las Vegas is a city that understands that the two go fucking hand in hand.

4. Clothes - Most of the time, the only time I purchase nice new clothes is when I know I have a trip coming up. In order to avoid looking like a total hobo while I'm on vacation, I splurge a bit and buy some cool things that I wouldn't otherwise purchase. Case in point, the new Ray-Ban Aviators that I'm been dying to have for several months which I hope arrive in time for this trip.

5. Memories - Las Vegas is hands down the number one spot where I have the best and worst memories. The fun I've had there has yet to beat. I've been there with all of my best friends that I truly love. Ed, Emily, Keith, John, Delena and Karia. The hangovers I've had there aren't the worst, but man, it sucks being hungover when you're away from home and actually have to do stuff. Plus you can't lie about having a "24 hour bug" because everyone knows your ass was out drinking till three a.m. the night before.

Seven more days.

it never went away

More so than normal, it feels like I'm turning on more and more memories. Maybe it has something to do with the stagnant stillness that I always attribute to my life. In two weeks I go back to Las Vegas for a few days, and like the junkie chasing the dragon, I can't help but get bummed out that whatever happens, I'm never going to meet someone like Ed again. That Vegas weekend will never be repeated and I'm left with feelings that I won't come across experiences similar to those anymore or again. I couldn't believe that it felt like being in love for the first time and in a way it was. The life cycle of a relationship born, lived, and died in three days. So fucking wild.

Every place I return to that we were in doesn't allow new memories to form because I'm stuck with the old ones. The ones that were the best. A rub on the back. A kiss on the cheek. Let's just stay in that time and I'll press pause and things will never change.

haven't felt like it

No writing for me lately. Ever since my fucking pc downloaded some ass-kicking virus that knocked it down so bad I had to turn it over to an IT guy.

From an e-mail to Emily:

Also, I think I'm pretty sure I want to go to mortuary science school. I really must admit, I don't want to have to go through all of the nursing bullshit that includes entrance and exit exams and state board licensing exams. Today I got a letter from a program that rejected my application citing that my grades weren't "competitive enough" for their school. That's totally cool, whatever. I'm so tired of being stressed out, trying to "compete" with thousands of other people around me and being miserable because some shit test says I'm not good enough. Even though I know that I am. I'm beginning to think that perhaps, I'm not meant to be a nurse and that God has designated some other path for me out there. Is any of this making any sense?

all these obsessions

And no money to obsess over. That is no money to purchase the things I currently covet. Perhaps I should divert my longing to things I already own but don't use.

1. The Wilton Giant Cupcake Pan. I need this for whatever retarded reason but the main one being that I can't complain enough how fat my ass is. SO, I need a big ass cupcake to make it smaller. Plus, I really just want to make them so I can pile on the icing and share them with others! See, my materialism is for the greater good!

2. The Wilton Jumbo Cupcake Pan. Not to be confused with the above giant cupcake maker. This pan makes six jumbo sized cupcakes that are about the size of a large piece of pie or cake. Perfect for splitting or gorging by yourself.

3. James Spencer Briggs and his tattoos. This tattooer is beyond amazing. It makes me wonder why Kat Von D (bless her soul) is huge and this guy is so humble and intense. I know getting tattooed by him is going to be like a punch in the face with a soft and padded glove. Getting all bloody with fluid running down your arm sucks, but much like giving birth, when you look down at the results, everything is worth it.

4. Leather jackets. Aw hell, all leather goods. My last acquisition was an awesome lambskin jacket from Dolce Vita that is just perfect for the upcoming season. Black, of course, but cropped and with a military styling; I will be wearing this long after the leather bandleader style passes. Did I mention, its leather and not PVC? Who can wear PVC anyway? Isn't that shit for plumbing?

5. Importing all of my cd's to my iTunes library. Sheesh. I really should never buy music. At all. Ever again. I love all of the tunes I have and I truly have a musical selection for every mood, purpose, state of mind, or activity. The bad thing is, some cd's I haven't listened to in years and it wouldn't be worth it to take it to Amoeba and get a few bucks for it. By a "few", I mean one to two dollars. Hardly worth it. But I guess, music lasts forever and I really should hold on to it. I still can't get over the fact that I gave away Rick James cd's over 15 years ago. Honest.

doin' the work

Today's weather reminded me of Montana. It started out cold with lots of rolling clouds and air so crisp it felt like the atmosphere was made of ice shards. Fluffy clouds turned into grey and silver webs that let go of tiny sprinkles... Onto my face and the makeup I had applied four hours earlier. Then the big rain came down similar to Big Sky country. It's still cold outside.

With a dreary day, came much progress and the fire I need under my ass to get me going.

1. Calling about the Legion of Mary. I need to be a part of this group to grow stronger in my faith and make sure that the deeds of Christ are present in my life, no matter how small. I cannot grow from intentions alone and need to include more actions of charity and giving, especially since the Lord has blessed me with so much.

2. Tattooer, Spencer Briggs speaks as elegantly as he draws. This is going to be tough, but I have my first appointment set up and I need to just do it. There is never going to be a time where I have a massive "tattoo funds" jar set aside with nothing but cash to make all of my tattoo dreams happen. The date is set, and the pressure to meet that date needs be heeded. There is no "perfect" time... Much like having a baby.

3. Creativity through the sewing machine. The last time I pulled out the machine was to make simple curtains for the kitchen. This time, I needed to alter my favorite pants that had lost a bit of the elasticity and to attempt a bunny project. Not too stoked on the bunny project, but I'm wearing the freshly altered pants and it feels great not to have them falling off of my ass. I think I want to sew a quilt...

I want to finish watching the Nazi zombie movie that I started before the night is over and perhaps wake up early for chuch tomorrow. I'm not sure yet...

take two

Take two, is right. Well, after totally dropping the ball and my checkbook, I lost out on an appointment with Nikko Hurtado some months back. Something that I waited almost half year for and had to blow it off because I couldn't get funds together.

Well, the tattoo lords have given me a second chance because I've found the perfect artist for me and his style couldn't be more different than Nikko's. For a long time, I've wanted to go strictly black and grey but this is a method that requires even more research than traditional style tattooing. You can't really go wrong with a colorful and classic piece of Sailor Jerry style art with kick-ass color. Some people, like Sid, do it better than anyone but even the bad ones have a fun, old tymey look. Black and grey can go bad really quickly... What was supposed to be a cool piece of Los Angeles brand of tattooing, can turn into a shitty jailhouse tat done by your cholo cellmate if you don't take your time choosing your artist.

I'm trying to remind myself daily that Spencer Briggs is worth the wait. And he his. Unfortunately he does all of the work himself so getting a response can take a while which is something I'll gladly wait for so long as an appointment is at the end of that tunnel. Thankfully, he likes my religious sleeve idea and I really hope that he is excited about it. It took a long time for me to even get a call back to set up an appointment with Nikko because he wasn't taking any new clients at the time. I imagine it will be the same with Spencer because of his work load.

At least that will give me plenty of time to get my ideas finalized and funds together. Pics to follow in about 12 months...

long and lost

The worst part about getting older is having memories. At least I think so, the good ones can never be topped or duplicated and the bad ones just hang around and never go anywhere. How perfect it is that they linger and sometimes intensify as you think about what you've lost and how things could have been.

If life and the universe didn't intervene by giving me small boobs, no ass and a full brain, I probably should have been married with babies five times over by now. And whatever happened to Marco? Why do I still think about him even though I will never see him again. Its those fucking memories. The ones that are your first loves, the first rushes of heat, excitement and panic that are branded in your memory forever. Yeah, without a doubt its perfect that I didn't give my entire life and vagina to a fucking waiter with bad teeth (but perfect ass) that liked to drink beer. Well, I can't complain about but the beer part. Looking back with an old maid's wisdom, I know damn well now that he KNEW that I was crushed on him and I'm pretty sure he loved it. However, what he had in ass, he definitely lacked in balls. Horribly so, he flirted openly with other, let's just say, "fuller" girls as he knew how much I thought of him.

What I remember most is the anticipation of a work night scheduled when I knew he would be there. I looked forward to going to work, getting dressed and being around him. I still remember, he worked "D" room and his shift started at 6:00 p.m. When I started at 5:00, I would wait for that time to roll around when I knew he would be coming in.

The worst part, the worst part, is that if I were to see him today and he still looked remotely the same (maybe with fixed teeth) I would melt all over again for this Mexican construction worker/waiter 15 years my senior. In some desperate attempt to recapture youth but only with bigger boobs and better makeup. Its like that hurricane that sucks you in as it rewinds time but the winds aren't touching you as you're transported almost a decade and half back and the heat is rising up within you again. Stupid love. Stupid hormones. Stupid heart.

ghost of clifton's past

Easter Sunday was celebrated with a risen Jesus and a trip to Clifton's Cafeteria downtown. I make no secret about my love for downtown Los Angeles even though it is a shadow of its former self. In between tiendas, botanicas and the Fallas Paredes, there are the skeletons of historical buildings that perhaps shudder at the fact that they are now storefronts for the peddlers non-deco and un-gothic goods.

In a city that is hellbent on destroying whatever brief history it has, the buildings on Broadway are still very much alive to me. They represent a time gone by and one that we most likely will never see again. Overnight, the City of Angels changes and the skyline takes on a new shape that not only erases the past, but stomps on it with steel-toed boots and never looks back.

Clifton's, on the other hand, is one of the last places in the city that is like walking into a timewarp. I feel its loneliness. If it were a person, it would be a World War II vet standing in the middle of a bunch of pink-haired punk rockers and cheap cowboys with bad boots from the mountains of Mexico. He would look around and wonder "What the fuck happened to all of my friends and where the hell can I get a beer?"

Most of downtown along Broadway is very much alive. In spirit, in history, in my memory from what I've read in books and seen in old photographs. I surely cling to that time and wish to God that one day the sun would rise and the whole avenue would be reborn looking like 1939. The ghosts and the spirits of those that knew the place are alive and well looking out of the windows down on Broadway. Waiting for buses, trolley cars or walking back home. Stopping off at the Broadway Bar for a drink before taking the elevator up in the Eastern Building. I bumped into one the other day like a ghost train gliding down the tracks and could only mouth, "take me with yoooou."

super risen

New Year's is technically January 1st and all New Year's resolutions are supposed to start on this day. Luckily, Easter is a second chance to start reworking those resolutions. Especially the spritual ones, which can be more fulfilling than any diet, workout regimen or promise that will undoubtedly be broken before too long. Most people wouldn't be too stoked on renewing their baptismal promises to the Lord, but the holy jerk in me had the opportunity to do it twice this weekend.

This past Holy Week arrived just in time. Just in time to save me from my own self, the doubts, the fear, the helplessness that is really just a demon that is sent to stop me from triumphing and moving forward to do what it is I'm on this earth to do. Whatever my path is that God has chosen for me, I have to be willing to walk it with courage and dignity whether it is nursing, mortuary science, or pouring coffee.

What I loved most about yesterday was the large presence of people in our tiny church. While I wish that there was a turnout that size every week, its awesome to know that God is alive and well in the hearts of so many men even if it is only a couple of times a year that the parking lot is that crowded.

My Easter promise and resolution to myself and to my Lord is acceptance. Acceptance that I love God and that I surrender to Him with all my heart. I am so done with denying Jesus and my love for Him. That is my new promise. I can still love Iron Maiden, Jack and Coke and an occasional cigarette. I can still love my church, a tearful prayer and have my favorite church songs. This is my duality. There can be no light without dark and no life without death. So for me, there can be no rock n' roll Friday nights, without grateful Sunday rejoicing!

compelling you

I can't talk enough about how much the last two days have totally rocked my face off. Yesterday, a fantastic hike in "the church of God" followed by a super Holy Thursday mass where I just felt so humbled in the presence of the Lord and all he has done for me.

I try to remember always that no matter is happening to me at a particular time in my life, God has a plan for me. With each passing day, I believe it more and more. Words are turning into actions as I surrender myself to Christ a little bit more each day and as I learn to trust in Him. Loving God is so easy, letting go and trusting is difficult no matter what anyone says. Now I try to think of myself of having done what He has asked of me and now is my time to leave things up to Him and I just need to keep walking on the path that He has laid out before me.

Today I cried in church again. I really don't see how more people don't. I don't know why I do and I will try to think of anything to prevent eyes from welling up but I'm not successful most of the time. Today I thought of something scientific to take my mind away from faith and it worked for about a minute; long enough to stop the moisture and take away that burning in the wells of my eyes. Because for God so loved the world. SO LOVED THE WORLD. That kind of love is massive. I can't even sacrifice an eyeshadow or part with ten dollars...

Tomorrow is Holy Saturday and I love the church at night. I love it when its dim and its just me and the Lord. Relaxing in his glory.

sweet 16 and preggers

Today is the awesome day of the "16 and Pregnant" marathon on MTV. Some of the episodes I have seen but I watching them again to just remind me that I should never have kids even though I'm almost twice as old as some of these... um, girls. I have a pretty good recollection of what I was like when I was sixteen, and even on a bad day I wasn't as clueless and hopeless as these people.

Cue the strange baby dream. I never blogged about the crazy ass dream I had actually being pregnant and then doing the birthings. Yeah, that was enough to fuck me up 4 life and even actually made me think about what it would be like to even WANT a baby. Yeah, that lasted for, like, five minutes and then I had to get on the phone to call my mom and tell her to NEVER let me have damn kids.

I don't know what universe these teenagers on this show are living in, but once that baby comes they are all on the same rocket back to the reality on earth. Three a.m. diaper changes, money for formula, giving up friends and social lives... How could these simple things not figure into a bitch's mind? Ahhh, the joys of judging people without being in their shoes. However, having common sense has always been my downfall. An important point being, I could never betray my parents like that. There is no way I could ever let my mother down especially after watching her struggle to raise me and my brother all by herself for the first 12 years of my life.

Now, the most critical part. How could these girls ever expect to provide for their babies? It pisses me off hardcore that they think they could ever give a newborn all of the love, affection, and attention that it takes to raise a successful child in this day and age. Hello,baby. Goodbye, mommy's wants and needs. Now get home and take care of that kid, before he rob me in 15 years.

on this st. patrick's day

I was visited by a Jehovah's Witness. Ed had his life threatened. I saw a dear, old friend. Met a interesting bagpiper at an Italian restaurant. Watched Ed tear up at the sound of live pipes.

Most importantly, Ed. I received a somber phone call from Ed saying that some freak at work who we thought was our friend ended up saying something about "a bullet with his name on it." Talk about way outta left field. The saddest thing was that Ed was more concerned with what he had done to illicit such a response from someone who he had always treated with kindness rather than actually being scared for his life. The man never ceases to amaze me. And on St. Patrick's Day of all days. My poor Irishman couldn't have handled it better and I know that the Lord was with him; I can only hope that he draws strength from His constant presence.

A perfect segway. Enter Jehovah's Witness. There is also nothing more callous than having your faith challenged in the door to your own home. While I am always eager to hear about other religions, the discussion should never trivialize what another denomination believes. Especially during a special time such as Lent. Of course, Catholicism and Christianity has its faults, the good far outweighs the bad and I'll be damned if someone tries to claim that their faith is good and pure and all others are false and untrue.

Bagpipes remind Ed of his father.

super happy lucky time

Today, I was coming home from walking Banjo Eyes and as I was opening my front door I couldn't help but think how lucky I am. And on so many levels. Sometimes I feel like I'm not worthy of everything of have and then there are those other times when I feel like I don't have all that I deserve. Isn't that every woman though? I'm sure there's a bumper sticker to that effect...

I'm lucky that I have a roof over my head. A very nice one, at that. I have two bedrooms, a huge living room, a dining room for those nights that I never entertain and the sweetest of modern bathrooms with timer switches. I can tell that its too much room for me because I have trouble keeping it clean. Plus I'm fucking lazy most days so that can't be helping much. Banjo Eyes has grass and I have three rooms in which to surf the interwebs and watch televsion. Life is good.

I'm lucky that I fucking live in America and not some shithole country where I would most surely have contributed to the infant mortality rate long ago. I'm super grateful that there is always plenty to eat, I don't have polio or have to wake up every morning and worry about kicking Nazi ass. This is a great time and place in which I live no matter how much I wish I had been born eighty years ago.

I am most humble when I thank God for the people in my life. I certainly don't know what I ever did to deserve Ed in my life, but it must have been awesome because he is the best thing that the Lord has ever blessed me with. I do love him so... And I don't want to think about what's going to happen to me without him.

Tomorrow Banjo Eyes goes for a haircut and a bath and we've come a long way from the $15 dollars that we paid back in Butte for such doggy services. By some dumb luck and another smile from Jesus I have money from Sherry to pay for it which is surely going to cost an arm and a leg for his Eastside hipster puppy pampering.

Since God is the only reader I have for my blog, this is my thank you letter for Him.

chocolate boy

I now own the most expensive weenie dog in Glendale. $1500 bucks later and two sleepless days, Banjo Eyes is chocolate Balance Bar free. Not to mention, free of the wrappers that at one point in time contained said Balance Bars. The lesson to be learned is that I can't trust my dog any further than I can throw him. He's one shady little fucker. I should have known this back in Montana when I adopted him in a room full of felines and then when I got him home, he made sure that my poor cat spent her last days cornered in the laundry room, her little paws to never touch the floor again.

With that being said, nothing is ever to be stored on the kitchen or dining room tables again. He's also opened my backpack on more than one occasion to eat what I had taken to school as a snack, neglected to consume and only to be reminded of it when I walk in and see him eating more chocolate. So yes, it is my own fault and if it weren't for Ed and Sherry, I wouldn't have had the means to have him treated. Thank the Lord for them. Amen.

His little legs are shaved where they had administered the IV and attached the electrode to monitor his heart rate. His butt was also clipped to prevent his poop from sticking to his fur as he battled it out with the chocolate toxins and the charcoal made to make him puke and crap.

I'm pretty sure I should never have children.

started to read

After months of waiting for the right time to start "The Heroin Diaries" by Nikki Sixx, I just jumped in. I figured there wasn't ever going to be a good time and since it is put together in way that you can read one page or one entry, its easy to pick up and put down. If you can do it, that is. I've already read about 50 pages since I started yesterday and its the most amazing book I've just about seen. I've never seen a memoir like it. Filled with pages as black as the heroin that held Nikki hostage for so long, and saturated with red spatter like oxygenated blood.

Addiction sucks. Its something I know too much of all too well. Hurt by my own excesses but hurt more by those in my family. Growing up with one addict was unbearable. Living with two full-blown addicts was my hell on earth. Not one day went by that I didn't hide in my room from alcohol, yelling, disappointment, the thud of drunks falling down the stairs in the middle of the night and not having a normal life where I could have the company of friends in my own house. The worst part about addiction is that when its over, it never is really over. Its an hourly, daily, weekly struggle to keep going in the face of one's demons, past, inadequacies or whatever weakness. Even when you're clean and sober, the past is still the past and sometimes, that's the most difficult part to recover from. Not the drugs, not the alcohol. Healing the wounds caused by actions, words, non-actions, words not spoken... That's the trick.

Nikki says that his book is meant to help anyone brave enough to pick it up and walk through his hell, even if its just one person. I can't imagine having that much courage to stand naked with my entire soul bared for the whole world to see. But isn't that the strangest? Its okay for someone in their addiction to shoot drugs with dirty needles, get so drunk that you puke in front of strangers, get beligerent and disrespect others after too much whiskey, but being honest and speaking of one's shortfalls with respect to drugs and alcohol, well, that's just too much. Its all backwards in this society.

Telling people to fuck off, this is me, take it or leave it. You don't have to be fucked up to party and have fun. What could be more rock and roll than that?

what happens when the lights go out

Everything. Race car dreams and perfect makeup application. Good sleep punctuated by the dog kicking me in the stomach as he stretches. Russian snowfalls, walking in the mountains and a George Strait serenade come to mind as frequent scenes.

My thoughts are my own and I'm actually quite glad that my readership on this blog is zero. Any chance of someone else reading my words is quite threatening and a imposition on my personal feelings and not to mention my erractic blogging schedule. Things that I will never tire of but never admit to anyone else will always include:

I talk to myself on the toilet. Every time and usually in the dark.
I don't have a type of man that I fantasize about, but the ones I do think about have dark hair and eyes. Pat Riley comes to mind.
I hate my body and have rarely felt satisfied with it. For the first 25 years of my life I was way too thin and dreamed of gaining a few pounds. Now I can't be happy until I loose those five pounds it took me forever to gain. Be careful what you ask for. Sometimes I even want to shower in the dark so I don't have to look at myself. Not normal, I know.

What other thoughts are my favorite? Mountain climbing on red faced peak, wearing a peach silk gown on a fancy night or even wrenching on that sweet, sweet stock car high on the rack in a South Carolina garage. Who knows. Because of these thoughts and the tendency my life has to change at the drop of a hat, I can't give up on my life. I can't silence what is inside me that says, "Well, maybe the old girl has a little gas left in her tank to finish up this fucking race after all." God has much planned for me and has blessed me with a twisted, insecure, wonderful and optimistic soul that will keep on.

When the lights go out, is when I am free to be the person that I am most.

wisconsin gothic

I finally found a film that sees the heartland through the same lens as I do. Not the clear, sharp one that captures flatlands saturated with the season's wheat crop and happy families raising Christian children among 4-H projects, but rather that old and mean heartland. Cold snowstorms, black lace and top hats and the homicidal farmer up the lane spurned by his young love. This is the heartland.

For my taste, "Wisconsin Death Trip" is a poem for the eyes; pictures to match the music of Lonesome Wyatt and Those Poor Bastards and their lyrical damnation. Black and white sequences told the stories of men and women, driven to kill and children who set fires and took lives. Feeling more like a dream, I floated among the ghosts on screen who went mad, but they did not take me with them. Color was reserved for the modern images of today's Black River Falls. Even the town name brings to mind murder shacks and gothic lawlessness with the promise of pristine nature, but a price must be paid for it. A black river that falls.

Delicate death photos of young and old faded on and off, reminding you that no matter what has happened in life, even the meanest of men seems fragile and soft of skin in death. The irony being that an empty cavity void of organs, including heart, the body is stiff and hard as a board. Women, elegantly photographed in curls, and a young girl's death face captured forever by a camera that stopped a moment in time with such clarity, that every eyelash is accounted for.

Lonesome snowfalls that brought such deafening quiet, that they silenced the madness that raged among the town's German, Swedish and Norwegian familes. These were the faces and minds from the heritages that mined the hills of Northern Wisconsin. Saddle the black mare and load the rifle and handgun. The residents of Black River Falls are the mad and murdering type.

train roll on

Another class finished. Another one in progress. One raced attended and now I'm hooked for the rest of the season.

Lucky me. I get to wait on what will sure be another less than stellar grade. I can't help but feel that my luck is going to run out on me and this microbiology class will screw my nursing chances. The worst part is, I have to retake it and get further behind in applying to nursing school. The very worst part is, I fail and don't have the willpower to go on anymore or I can't because I'm not allowed to repeat classes if I want to get into a program.

Now I'm stuck with a bunch of free time on my hands to do all of the things I've been dying to do for the last four months or so and feels all so strange. Photography, sew curtains for the kitchen, clean my house, do some laundry and get back to working out regularly. Leisurely life, I know. I can't help but feel that I deserve it, though.

Today, I've already organized my dresser drawer, cleaned a good chunk of the house and done some handwashing of my clothes. I also contributed to society by watching "You Can't Take It With You" with Jean Arthur and James Stewart which I enjoyed thoroughly. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I am subconsciously crushing on Jean Arthur and upon further investigation found that she wasn't anything at all like the characters she played. Another kindred spirit found by the miracles of celluloid.

I know I'm supposed to be studying, but I have a splitting headache and no matter how much I study, I seem to get the same shit grades on every test so who cares?... I'd much rather focus on:

1. Munchos potato chips. Am I the only person that is totally addicted to these things?

2. Eye makeup. Especially all of the new Kat Von D stuff that I got from Sephora. This is so awesome it really deserves its own post.

3. Nascar. Why does it feel like its been ages since I've seen race. I say I'm always going to try and save money and the minute I see I stock car, I might as well throw my wallet out of the window.

4. Netflix Watch Instantly titles. I have an instant queue 160 titles strong. I hope I make it through all of them before they disappear.

5. Waiting to go to Las Vegas again. I start shaking with excitement every time I think of going. Either I have a drinking problem or need to get out more.

That's an even five that will keep me obsessing for the next two weeks or so. Thanks to television and the internet, I have the attention span of whacked out chihuahua so I should be on to new things very soon.

graveyard love

I never wrote about finding the final resting place of John Gilbert but I did manage to work on a photo that I took from that day. Since I feel no connection to whatever Hollywood does these days, I revel in the idea that there is so much from Hollywood’s past that I have to read, see, discover or hear. Everything from movies, books and music. I know that I will, hopefully, never be bored. Or reduced to succumbing to today’s pop culture.

With that being said, I guess you could also say, “They don’t make ‘em like they used to” and in your mind picture whatever that “‘em” is. For me it would be Jack Gilbert. Sure, he was a horny drunk, but he also packed five lifetimes worth of living into his short 36 years on this planet. I’d want to take a ride on the Wacko Jack Gilbert Express any day.

It is nice to know that he is now resting much like he lived in that house on Tower Road; on the top of a beautiful hill surrounded by beauty and looking out over all of the city. Here’s to hoping there’s no hangovers in heaven.

the picture show

At the picture show last night.

From my e-mail sent to Emily this afternoon:

“I hit up the movie theater for the double feature of “Double Indemity” and “The Blue Dahlia” and it was just about the best thing ever. Both movie prints were absolutely gorgeous and it was so much fun to do an old fashioned picture show with two old movies in a row. I was a little bit irked because they showed “DI” first and apparently today’s movie audience is too sophisticated for the dialogue of Raymond Chandler and Fred MacMurray’s style of acting; most of the people in the audience laughed through the whole film. I’m something of a movie snob and was surprised to hear scoffing and outright bursts of laughter when the scene was intended to be dramatic and tense. Poor Barbara Stanwyck, I’m sure she was turning in her grave last night around 9:00 p.m. By the time “The Blue Dahlia” went on, most of the people had cleared out and the remaining seats were relatively quiet. It was fun, nontheless.”

I guess it goes without saying that watching certain movies is intensely personal for me. Especially the ones with people that I have particular reverence for. I’ve been starry eyed over Barbara Stanwyck since I was 11 or 12 years old and I can remember clearly staying up late to record this particular movie to VHS one night.