do u ever have one of those days where you go to yourself, “Fuck it. Today I’m gonna look ugly and I don’t give a shit.” then halfway through the day you change your mind cuz u see all these hot looking people and you get angry at yourself for looking like a slob but it’s kinda too late to make yourself look not ugly so you try to fix your hair and outfit a little but you end up just looking goofy? i had one of those days yesterday. it was laundry day and all my non-stupid clothes were being washed so i decided to wear these baggy blue corduroy pants and a huge dumpy t-shirt and my hair was in messy pigtails. i went to the grocery store and everyone else looked better than i did so i immediately got pissed off and stomped around the place swinging my basket around like a sea hag.
the end.
so here’s raymi in all her “i want to look like a boy” glory in Brooklyn this past summer. you can see the WTC in the background of one of the shots from the roof.MODRAYMI
you can also see a picture of antidisestablishmentarian pinching his girlfriend’s titty if you wait for the page to load and scroll down to the bottom. do it. Tittypinch there’ also more of his funny complaints too.
i’m going to feed the ducks today – all the stale bread that’s been sitting in the back of my fridge for months. how exciting. today is saturday, it is sunny but very windy and cold outside. what’s the point in it being sunny if it’s ridiculously unbearable to stand outside for more than three minutes. i dunno. i’ll probably wrap a scarf around my head and wear my stupid hat. yes. i will. last nite at the bar this dude passed out on his stool and some guy poured olive juice into the passed-out guy’s pint. i laughed. oh yeh, some drunk twat walked in on me when i was in the loo. i hate when that happens, it’s the little things that drive you nuts, eh? like when the channel you’re watching on television decides to go all static or when you drop your food on the floor or you give yourself a papercut – man, those things depress me.
ok so yah, i’m back from new york, i just don’t know how to put into words what i did, really, that’s why i haven’t said anything. do you ever get that way? well, anyway, we’re talking about me, and yes, i get that way all the time. i’m here everyday, looking at this fucking computer, but i just can’t get it together enough to make any sense. all i can talk about is martinis and china town and buses and rain. in the meantime, you can look at this. ARGUEMENT WITH RAYMI’S MOM i had put up this little picture/link of jeffrey dahmer and my mum got real pissed about it. read on to find out.
alright so i’m finally adding some testosterone to this site. Here’s a guy I found a few years back during the height of partying oldskool. He’s a boy version of raymi, kinda. he likes to complain about random things and does a funny job of it. so be nice to him, or i’ll hurt you. read: Anti Says…
I�m noticing more and more, each day, how much of a kleptomaniac I am. I see something that appeals to me and immediately a little voice in my head says, ooh, you should take that. And then I map out possible ways of taking whatever it is. I don�t always do it, I usually just fantasize about having the said object and then I leave it alone. But sometimes I can�t help myself and I pocket the thing. Do I feel guilty about it? No, not really. I panic more than anything, expecting the cops to show up at my house or the storeowner to punch me in the face. Last nite, for example, it was a tiny little saltshaker that was sitting on my table at this Thai restaurant. It was just so cute, I really wanted it � of course I needed it in the least, but still, the voice said I should steal it. For the record, I didn�t take it. And good for me. The silly part is that I even said out loud we should steal it. The second that sentence left my mouth I realized how absurd it would be to steal a tiny fucking saltshaker when I�d just throw it in the cupboard and forget I even had it, and thus, taking it would be futile in every sense of the word.
me bowling in northampton and also locked-up in a real live prison. it’s true. click to enlarge
I hate paying for things too. I am such a miser with my money. There�s another reason why I always want to take things. It saves money. I love saving money. But I�m horrible at it. Just, horrible. I can do it for a couple weeks and then one day it�s like, oh, I have all this money, why do I have all this money? I should spend it. And then I do and then I get real angry with myself and I begin the whole process of saving money all over again. I�ll eat like two-dollar sandwiches and other cheap crap everyday, and then cook myself those noodles that cost like 28 cents a package and I�ll feel really great about myself for not spending any money. I�ll do this for weeks on end until my stomach wants to eat itself from the inside and I am weak from malnutrition. My whole philosophy would be it�s ok to starve because I have money to buy clothes and look good. I�d rather have something to show for my money than something I eat and disappears immediately.
i’m going to NYC for a l’il bit. i’ll let you know how it goes…..
Everyone knows a guy who appears to be real calm all the time and low key. He probably wears sandals and baggy jeans and has messy hair and drapes himself casually on the sofa. You know this guy? He�s suppose to be the epitome of tranquility except for one day, out of the blue, something goes wrong and he completely flips out. His true character is exposed. Then we realize his whole, �nothing can bother me� philosophy was crap all along. What a dink. You can only pretend for so long.
i always laugh when i see these dudes flip out. it’s just so, rewarding.
oh yeh, i met Zoe yesterday, that lady from survivor – she’s from maine. she even gave me her calendar and signed it. she wouldn’t let me interview her because she’s under CBS contract ’til may and suppose to be still on the island.
i am writing a book. That’s why I’ve been quiet. also, the internet is giving me a headache and cuts into my drinking time. i got everything that was purchased for me from my wishlist. you guys are the best. well some of you, anyway. the mailman hates me for getting all these new deliveries ’cause he actually has to knock on my door and give me the box and then we have to pretend we are being nice to each other and I am always hungover and grouchy but then get excited and gay over my delivery.
