great day to quit drinking. bombay gin party is today. alicia is my date. shuffle it all over to the next day then. mad catch up like no other but all i want to do is float around town in this warm niceness. it’s been a long winter. think ah may do just that. why do i feel guilty what did i do wrong? other than a gong show bday game thursday nite, piss poor recovery from that i was at work friday with my eyes barely open. then saturday melodie’s thing, which made us all right geniuses yesterday her actual birthday. since my party was kind of a well, i dunno, and melodie wasn’t around for it justifiably went to town which is great because i am never celebrating anybody’s birthday ever again so yeah, good to go.
hair appointment tomorrow THANK CHRIST. or well, the desk girl.
people who needlessly hate on flip flops we need to have a little chat. one, it’s called summer. two, if you take care of your shit then there’s nothing wrong with showing off those toes. i’ve seen feet in flip flops cleaner looking than some scummy ass shoes, better looking in fact a dickload more so than some cheesy tacky foot attire out there. just cos vice mag made it their “thing” to rip on flip flops, i don’t get it. look at me up there does it look like i give a fuck what you think? look at my feet yeah i may as well be bare foot. sandals are for good looking hippies like me. the end. lebowski forever. is this, a weekday?
oh also guess what i DO live near a beach and my entire philosophy on life is: look good for beach so you can fuck right off with that no beach for miles argument right now.
so hung. we escaped a houseguest that WOULD NOT LEAVE despite many many PLEASE GO NOW subtle hints.
here’s things i did to try to get the ball rolling:
-first i went and opened a curtain and plonked down a full (to-go!) glass of water and said hey do you want some water? to which was greeted a diva-like coy yawn, “no.” fine. also note i do not know this person so like if a roommate of my friends came in and offered me water i’d know straight away what was up and that would be my ass out the door.
-drank a wine spritzer and flat out ignored every mention of “oh i totally want to drink now.” comments.
-offered no weed but accepted some haha.
-sprawled out on entire couch so there was no room for anyone else.
-pretended was deaf or really into television.
– yelled out BYEEEEEEEEEEE numerous times.
-passive aggressively ignored every cute remark about meaningless shit with no polite mmmhmms or oh yeahs? like i normally constantly dole out for validation reassurance because i am actually a for real nice person BUT not when i am hung and anxious and hello who are you in my house i’m the only princess here.
-talked about how much cleaning we had to do and no we don’t need any help.
-paused movie and said I AM PAUSING THIS I HAVE SOMETHING TO DO IN MY ROOM SO I’M PAUSING THIS FOR NOW get the fucking hint!!!!!!! i knew it was my fault though for making it a fun atmosphere i knew if i put that on and he smoked some weed he’d never fuck off but i did then he did and so i had to pause the party.
-left room
-then he left and lucas said i could come out again.
the entire time lucas was stonewalling him too. packing up the turn tables. melodie left too even.
dear everyone who crashes at someone’s house after a party: WHEN YOU WAKE UP GET THE FUCK OUT. don’t ignore hints. no we don’t want to hang. unless you are being spooned and i’m whispering shit in your ear about brunch and such, um, payce child. do not prolong your walk of shame. just do it, own it, get it over with.
was trying to show the totality of what i was feeling at the moment holy crap why am i even online right now.
garth algar here.
i changed many times. i see it like, a different look for a different mood and in the end you’re never wearing what you want. or i have so many clothes i could clothe a small good looking stylish army? or i’m hangin’ around my joint and i have access to my tickle trunk and you don’t so don’t hate.
lost my camera for the night was nice to be, without snapping away.
took the party to wrong bar for a bit then back to casa costello. we have plans for a hippie commune. a property near the city. massive garden, lots of land. every time lucas gets slaughtered he prattles on about this.
speaking of, that guy just called from the front of the house we’re gonna go walk for coffee my brain can’t deal with making it right now. i have to get us a new bodum still. i want the orange one that starbuck’s sells but the one near us only has black. black boring bodum, pass on that. we keeps it kitchy up in hurr.
i need to bump into a tanning salon asap.
xoxoxoxoxo
melodie’s phone is in here and it keeps going off with bday wishes texts phonecalls and i am too tarded and lazy to move it out of here and it’s annoying me yet like, my only friend right now? also freaks me out a bit cos it’s my old phone, old ringer and text sound effect – sound of a can being opened and root beer being poured. the ringer is airport hustle and bustle and some guy with a british accent over a PA. that’s right. total sketch.
younger more self conscious girls giggled at my ass. woke up ready to rock out the door in last nite’s skivvies. dirtbag princess.
sweet tooth. eating tour.
loner walk. tons of cops on bikes and horses. down by the water with two non-working lighters and a nice half joint. brutal. very nice down there though my cheeks are soooo red. nose too.
i did find the sand i was looking for. it’ll do fine. this is just a path though.
i have a crazy sweet tooth lately why is this? i eat spoonfuls of pure blueberry honey from the jar just you know, because? shotgun nestle quik. i never liked sweets before. am i giving myself diabetes here? can i?
was cut from work and was able to hit gill’s birthday party at brooklyn bar and it was SO FUN. went to salvador after that and then some stragglers came back to ours and we had a makeup party in my room.
drinking strong hot coffee with cinnamon and honey in my room with melodie right now gonna hangover walk down to the water for a bit. i went to the front room to gauge the climate and the air was still, warm. love that. it’s like a hug.
melodie came in saw us girls in my bed and said OH YES and jumped in hahahahha.
right now we’re taking negative photos on my couch. they look crazy!
shoveling oatmeal and coffee into my person at the moment. went to watusi last nite (did you know that the watusi was/is a dance?) and then reposado. looked at a big crappy art canvas in the window of some shop while sharing a joint. cabbed it home, early enough night for this cat. earlier was at mezzro’s with melodie then lucas came by. love the frowning fish we tried to draw them. i failed horribly at that. dropped and smashed an unopened bottle of red wine in the kitchen (thanks for cleaning that up lucas) i’d never done that before, have seen many others though and always played it cool. you don’t know how irritating irritating can be until you try it out for yourself. i wasn’t even wasted. not even buzzed. or stoned. just got the dropsies. i don’t consult a calendar to keep track of my cycle i just wait until i smash something then i know aunt flo’s on her way over.
i wish i didn’t put cock in the title of my last post now i’m getting all this p0rn spam with cock all over it. GET A LIFE SPAM WE’RE BUSY.
speaking of getting a life i don’t even have time to be offended or hurt or anything by negative comments anymore it’s like seriously you’re on my blog at 2 in the morning while i’m out straight pounding’er home and you’re at your little computer telling me i am an idiot? cool life. even conversations people (MY MOTHER and other idiots with ZERO LIVES from the suburbs) have beneath my photos on facebook. that’s another privilege i might have to take away because apparently when you tell people that you are 1. busy and 2. have no time for this they hear GO TO FUCKING TOWN. also you can’t rip into them as much as they deserve because 30 other people have already commented and are receiving every single message too. how dare you play me like this you lunatic children. you can’t think of anything else to do on a sunday afternoon? really? i’m out at dinner totally strung out and stressed trying not to snap and flinch at every noise in the pub then a gauntlet of stupid facebook messages floods my blackberry and by who else, oh right my mother and an old babysitter. another (not) funny thing is no one can even relate to me on this, well no one i’m hanging out with lately. they’re just full-on bemused by it, it’s foreign cos their moms are off doing normal shit and they have practically nil online presence so i come off looking like the freak here. so anyway back in a time out they go until they learn some boundaries (which will never happen). haha remember when i said i didn’t even have time to be offended by shit all the sudden i’ve loads of time. don’t care. i feel crampy, working at 4, i should get it all out now and leave the monster at home.
ps. i’m fucking 27 how is this even an issue for me when will my mother GET IT? maybe dragging out this stupid pointless laundry on to the internet will sort it out? doubt it. i’ve repeated numerous times, lets pretend that you respect me as a person and then lets pretend that this is my office, lets pretend i’m trying to be professional here and that maybe i’ve sort of been making a go at this blogging thing as a potential career for oh, say TEN YEARS NOW? maybe you shouldn’t be all over it every single day imparting opinions nobody asked for? maybe?
alright i just made myself light years angrier. good move.
the things she flips out on are the exact same things i’ve been writing about for years now i don’t see how pissing me off over and over and over again is going to make me stop smoking weed faster. or drinking. or turn into a lady. how arrogant does someone have to be to think they have any sort of impact on anybody else ever and this goes for every single commenter out there. the shitty ones specifically. do you think we’re just gonna drop everything from being blown away by your words? woah guy, i never thought of it like that before thank YOU for showing me how it is and colour me changed. you know? people do not change. we’re all severely pleased with who we are so, thanks but no thanks. meanwhile ps. look at your own shit you’re a fuck up too so no offense but you’re the last advice i’d be asking for.
greasy babed it big time. zero makeup. walked into a bar stool with those stupid glasses on.
got my loonies eaten by that thing and then lucas got a double vodka out of it then evened the score by cleaning up my smashed bottle kitchen mess and i threw him some ganj. all in a day’s non-work.
when people in the real world (or IRL you nerds sorry if you didn’t understand what in the real world meant all spelled out like that in long-form hahaha ughhhh) hear me complaining about how fat i am or ugly or whatever they think i am insane, they don’t see the flaws i see and guess why i see the flaws i see? the internet. this is a special form of mental illness for sure. you are your own in touch magazine, essentially. when your hair changes, clothes, weight, tired in the face and so on, we all sit down and discuss. so while you think you’re making your own choices you kind of have this but how will my people react to this? stupid no? extremely. jenny told me to fuck the internet once when i said i had worn an outfit i wanted to wear on our bender night and the internet saw it already. didn’t end up wearing it but still, would you even conceive of this years ago before all this garbage? ridiculous new world problems. when your phone dies how quickly do you feel like you don’t exist and nobody cares about you anymore?
after this weekend i am picking up my bootstraps and turning into an organized adult type person. enough dicking the dog. i’m finishing my book proposal goddammit. ps. (who wants to write it for/with me? i’m sort of serious you will get a cut and get to hang out with me which is pretty priceless in and of itself). how funny is it that i got a literary agent off the guy who bamboozled me in the globe and mail? how funny is it that he’s (reporter not agent) a recovering crack addict? ok that’s not funny but it’s admirable. some people never get over that shit. he‘s writing a book all about it too. dunno if that was a secret or not but i don’t care anymore. this is me with my fingers in my ears screaming i don’t care anymore.
i have no idea where my copy of the globe article went and i do not have an online subscription (as if i have time to read newspapers) so i do not have access to it. if you somehow do send it my way please.
we’re having a birthday house party for melodie on saturday (i took the night off) so if you’re cool enough, friends enough, email me and i’ll set you up with an invite.
chris is playing at the central tomorrow night you should come see him, gets pretty loud. i’ll be there (working).
drinking at the altar of reposado.
clem we need blue lighting behind the bar.
wolf shirts may be over but wolf dresses have just begun. wearing this bastard tonite melodie made it she is so crafty. (it’s kamila’s going away party too so come on out by all means). thirsty thursday here here!
this bed is massive and my back is thrown out and i’m baked and my knee is fucked. sheet changing time is certainly a chore but if you dance and film yourself while doing it then it’s pretty good. a good life in fact.
