The Spanx Diet

So my mom bought me some of them Spanx all the cool/fat kids are wearing.  I found it kind of insulting until she said she didn't mean it in a mean way, and told me about hearing about them on NPR.

And I have to say, they made a great addition to the Thanksgiving festivities. I have this really sweet Ralph Lauren Blue Label dress that I got at the outlet for like 10 dollars, and I'd always been hesitant to wear it because although I rock under-eye bags with relative ease, saddle bags are a different case. I probably just invented them in my mind, but every time I'd put that dress (a tightly-fitting one made to look like a long Rugby shirt) on I felt fat as shit, and imagined my hips to look extra-wide. 

So I thought I'd give the Spanx a try and they really delivered.

They make you look less fat and make your ass look nice.

And it's basically like a removable lap band around your stomach, so as long as you don't mind having to piss all the time, it's a great diet trick.

I would wear them all the time, but having some tight black shorts on underneath all your clothes would be quite obtrusive, and if I accidentally saw someone else sporting the look I'd think they had a medical condition or Bridget Jones-syndrome.

Oh shit I hope I don't have Bridget Jones-syndrome. What a whiny bitch. How can you smoke that much and be so fat?


So, Twilight....

...has totally grasped me into it's horribly written hold.


I'm glad GA isn't redneck enough to have a Prop 8

You don't need to be taught that you're gay. You know right off the bat. 

But religions think you need to be taught that being gay is wrong? You have to learn that.

Something is not natural there....

I don't know how I feel about protests being arranged at Mormon temples, especially the one in New York. New York Mormons didn't have much to do with Prop 8 passing, and that is where they practice their (bigoted) religion. In this country we have freedom of religion, which is a good thing, and SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE, also a good thing. 


Epic Win

I feel like I just witnessed the "I Have A Dream" speech. 

Barack Obama will change this nation.

I now believe in him.

This is what we need. 

I'm glad Sarah Palin is on her way to sinking back into obscurity. 


I'd like to know what Goodwill she's "donating" all her clothes too. What a rogue. 

I'd also like to know who designed Michelle Obama's dress she wore tonight. I'm thinking Philip Lim?

Almost half my life was spent during the worst presidency in history. I hope this will be the best.

I hope Bristol Palin is paid an exorbitant sum by a tabloid for her baby pics. 

I'm glad being on SNL didn't boost the Republicans.

I'm glad Nanabama's vote counted.

I'm glad he got Pennsylvania and Ohio.

I'm glad the election's over.

I'm glad I live in America.

I'm glad CNN chose tonight to debut hologram people.

I'm glad Obama referenced Abraham Lincoln. 

I'm glad there was a clear winner. 

I'm glad Facebook showed me people's opinions.

I'm glad Barack Obama exists.

I'm glad the Bush administration is (almost) over. 

I'm glad the president is black.

I'm glad Joe Biden grew up on the streets of where The Office is set. 

I'm glad the Obamas are getting a puppy.

I'm glad Sasha and Malia aren't skanks like the Bush twins.

I'm glad Democrats have taken the lead.

Today is a good day.


Anon's plastic surgery.

"I would gain an extensive [but not heavily unhealthy] amount of weight, and then have liposuction so that there was a lot of extra skin over my stomach area, and have them fold it upward, then sew the skin so that a pouch was created, much like a kangaroo. I would use this pouch to shop lift." 

lolz 4chan.

I got my bike today. From this listing:

I was trying to figure out if it was a cool Motobecane from France or an American one from a sketchy website. One thing Google has never told me, but I kind of feel like it's an American one, cause they're made Taiwan and one of the white walls has a Taiwan sticker on it. But I like it. It's charming as shit, although I'm contemplating loosing a bit of that handlebar padding. It seems unnecessary.


If this girl can do it then I can do it.

A month? Srsly?!

I have really been lagging behind in my AP Lang class. You have to do all this dumb message board stuff that bores me to death, but it is supposed to be a substitute for classroom interaction which is the only thing I really miss about traditional school.

So today I was reading the posts, the first one is about introducing yourself and what makes you literate etc. etc. and I wanted to see if my response of "I'm literate because my family is" was at all original (it wasn't) and I came across this dumbass:

Author: Johnson, Nekiala
Subject: Hey
Hey,im Nikki.I am from Fayettville,North Carolina,but now im living in Slidell,Louisiana.Im 15 years old and in the 11th grade.Ive been homeschooled for 9 years.I am enrolled in this class because I would like to further my knowledge in English,Language,Literature..etc.Ever since elementary school,english has been one of my favorite subjects.Im a really good reader and I comprehend pretty well.When it comes to writing,im not so well in that area,but im hoping that by taking this class,it will better my writing skills.My speech is okay even though im a little shy when it comes to speaking in front of an audience.Im a real good listener though.I think perhaps that listening is one of my best qualitys in english besides reading.Im hoping I do really well in this class!=)

UHHHHH. You can tell this person has never written a real essay in her life. I think her email address "momof4savedkids@aol.com" speaks for itself.

Being mean motivates me. What can I say?


Under the shadow of your family tree

So TV On The Radio and I have quite a special relationship. When I was first exposed to their album, "Return to Cookie Mountain" (Jan/Feb of last year) I was druuunkk all the time, every weekend. It seemed like every weekend one of my friends was having their birthday somewhere, and "I Was A Lover" and "Wolf Like Me" were staples at all the festivities. At one of the parties I got so drunk I got up, pulled down my pants, pissed on the floor, zipped my jeans back up (I was all about my one pair of Seven For All Mankind's back then) and promptly passed out again. 

Needless to say I LOVE TV On The Radio and all the emotions and memories it evokes. So I am reading Rolling Stone and it is reviewing singles everyone should get, and one off the new TVotR is up! I quickly search my known music blogs and one has their new album up already (it isn't officially out yet, oops), and I I have listened to it nine times in the past 48 hours, which is a lot for me, because I get bored of music quickly. 

My favorite tracks so far have gotta be:
"Golden Age" - the one recommended by Rolling Stone, quite danceable
"Family Tree" - so good, one of those songs that could feel personal to anyone, might be my fave
"Love Dog" - classic TVotR, from the melancholy lyrics with an amazing backgrounds and ubiquitous 'whooos'
"Halfway Home" - they know their fucking openings

I know I say I like fashion and movies, but music seems easier to explain. And I'm even too lazy to watch highlights of Fashion Week.



Homemade vs. handmade.

The store I work in has a lot of straight up shit touted as "handmade". Handmade. Handblown. It's all supposed to impress you. I would really call it "homemade", because some of it is pure shit.

How come then, hand made is supposed to be good, whereas home made groups stuff into the shitty category? 

I immediately think of Halloween costumes when searching for examples. When I was 6 or 7, ever the innovator, I wanted to be a princess. I know. Lame. But still. We went to the halloween stores and looked at the flammable plastic pink princess costumes and my mom decided they were all too shitty, and there were no purple ones anyway, so she told me she was making one. Now of course my mom is a pretty bomb ass seamstress, she could do couture, so the costume was hot as shit, with beading and sparkle, and made from leftover silk she had lying around, hiding the lining, which was made from a sweatsuit. (Halloween is cold here.) I would classify this costume, with its poufed sleeves and decent material, into the "handcrafted" or "handmade" not "homemade". 

I picture a "homemade" costume to be a bit  more half-assed. A sheet over your head turning you into a ghost, a la Charlie Brown. 

At the store where I work, there is a princess hat that I would group into the half-assed category it belongs in. It's pink polyester, one of those coney looking things. It has a shitty veil that is really not princess quality at all, some pre-made beading you can buy at JoAnn fabrics at the top, and purple marabou trim. Oh yeah, heres the part that makes it shitty looking, in pink glitter puffy paint it says "pink princess". I think it might even be nail polish. Anyway today some cheap lowballing bitch comes in and wants to buy it. My boss says it shoulda been like 60 dollars (because of it's handmade-ness) which is retarded, but then she said the lady could have it for 20, which is way more then you'd pay for it if you just went to Claire's or something, but it was decent enough. The lady looks flabbergasted. She thought that since she was looking for dress up clothes for a two-year old everything should be like 6 dollars, tops. The worst part is she looked like she was too much of a bitch to ever step foot in a Goodwill which was even more annoying (hahaha I kept typing Annyong, AD anyone?) to me, because that's where her prices would fly. Ugh I really feel like it's bitches like her that keep me from wanting to ever have my own store. 

But anyway. That dumb princess hat was not handmade, it was homemade. 


Effing Ew

My aunt just went to go take a shit in the hall bathroom and brought some tortilla chips and the latest issue of Marie Claire. 
She didn't even close the door gosh. 
Then when she came out she just threw the Marie Claire back on the coffee table and told me about her new tenant. 

I'm too lazy to even write more. 


Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...

I am pretty sure my mother is battling two addictions. Food and shopping. 
Me. Just the shopping.


All I can think about

Is my effing Schwinn Cruiser. 
The whole time I was in Michigan it was like God was throwing the most badass bikes in my face and laughing. My bike needs a replacement. Preferably a cute one.


You know what's really gross?

Sam Adams Cherry Wheat. It "combines Michigan cherries with a generous portion of wheat malt to produce a bright, lively ale with a crisp finish." To be fair, it really does have a great finish. The part that is fucking gross is the cherry part near the middle of every sip. It tastes like what I'd imagine Robotrippin' to taste like, only less gooey. That is to say, a little bit too close to the cough syrup side of town.

I don't think they sell this beer on it's own in a six pack, but it's always in the Summer variety pack. 

I don't know why I selected it tonight. There was one of every brew. 

I guess it sort of appealed to the Boone's Farm drinking teenager that must lurk somewhere in my depths. I've always held the notion that fruity drinks were for wusses and this reiterates my point, I'd say. 

If something is this gross it should be 50 cents a bottle and be 70% alcohol by volume. I mean really.

But it does have a smooth finish.

Oh look you can buy a 6-pack. http://www.bevmo.com/productinfo.asp?area=home&seref=froogle&pf_id=00000010624


Things I dreamt about last night

  • Mourning the (shooting) death of Ol' Dirty Bastard with Tyra Banks
  • Trying on the Prada Fairy glasses (but they were just regular glasses, not sunglasses)


My Rollercoaster

I'm loving all this purple for fall.

The other day (Monday I do believe?) I went to go pick up my bike from it's regular stand during the day. And I guess someone stomped it during the time we were apart. The back tire is completely bent. Dick move, I KNOW. 

But now I can buy a Schwinn Cruiser which I have secretly wanted to for a long time. They are cute beyond words. It's not like I really mountain bike. Jill says a one-speed "builds character". I just love a bike with vintage charm and a fender so I can wear a dress if I so choose. I'm such a girl. 

I am procrastinating with regards to school work. I can't even focus on online school. I am mentally deficient. 

It really bothers me when my aunt reads my art history textbook and props her beer up on it and wrinkles the pages to turn them. It was like over $100. I'd rather have the special edition copy of The Beedle and the Bard.

I need to stop hoarding clothing. Like seriously I should be on Oprah. Everyone has their quirks. 

Saying "I" too much is obnoxious. Not a fan of myself right now.


Lights Out

Lights out
Shoot up the station
TV's dead where's there to run
Watch everybody come undone
Lights out
We'll make it easy
We'll make it fun
Won't let them see now, how they had won
Still I wait another round


Top Ranking is terrific. 

Drinking giant bottles of Bud is for homeless people. Like, at least use a cup. When you swig out of a giant bottle, it looks like your homeless. Horrible flashbacks of sitting on the swings at the park on a nice Saturday morning watching a drunk bum jack off appear. It's nearly traumatizing. In a way. I mean, I know you're 46.5 times cooler than me now that you have some dude friends, don't waste your small clout you have over these people looking fucking homeless. I mean, you have almost total mind control over like 3-4 people. And you spend it touching your lips to the sad fountain of the streets? Why don't you just piss your pants while you're at it? 

Oh and speaking of your pants. It's neat that you can fit in jeans from a regular store now. Nice! Cocaine and 10 minutes of not just sitting on your ass all day really paid off! Too bad you still look a bit like Squidward in flared jeans.
 But good choice with the dark wash, it makes your thighs look less beluga-ish! Someone's been reading the two style pages of Teen People! 

Good thing I have Santogold and headphones otherwise my head might explode. 


Oh gawd not the wolf t-shirt....

The ubiquitous wolf t-shirt. 

I've seen a few hipsters sporting them smugly. 

This needs to stop.

Then 20 minutes ago I was informed by purseblog that Maison Martin Margiela has not only put this wolf on the bag, but true to form, AIRBRUSHED this fine decoration on to what is probably top-quality grain leather. You have got to be kidding me. 

When I think of the wolf shirt, I think of the creepiest of mouth breathers, picking at their bubbling acne, sitting next to me in 7th grade language arts while I'm ridiculously uncomfortable. I was probably trying to rock bow belts. The wolf t-shirt makes me almost nauseous. The image featured by purseblog isn't as classic as I'd like, it was chosen because of how closely it resembled the bag. The one I picture has the wolf sitting on a rock, probably howling at the moon. 

I don't care if they're ironic, I don't care if they suddenly become wondrously cool. They will always scream loser to me. 



I'm a little late on this bandwagon, but when you're in love, you're in love....

The bottom picture is a tattoo I've seen a lot on www.ratemyink.com which is another slight addiction.


We're entering...

...Grey Gardens..."

That's the only thing I can ever hear when my aunt recollects on the past. It's trapping her. Driving her insane. Today she was harping on about how my mom made her a dress when she was like 9 or so, and how it shrank, and how sad it made her. Then she spent another 10 minutes talking about how she was sad when she realized she wasn't going to be a midget. Apparently she had a huge irrational fear of becoming one, so in true family fashion, she researched it. 

I fear becoming this.
I fear it every day.


Got a pencil?

Nothing eloquent can be said of this film, at least by me. It was spectacular. Heath is incredible. Watching this movie stung a bit as his performance kept reminding me of Johnny Depp. Of that caliber. But cut short. I don't know if it was the complete and total immersion into the role, or the purple coat, but I kept thinking of Johnny Depp. It took Heath's death to remind me that he wasn't some prettyboy, he was also a terrific actor. I remember when I realized this, about 3 days after his death, thinking about the exquisite movies he'd been in, like Brokeback Mountain, and the not-so-exquisite, Casanova, and his career just has an all-around Deppian feel about it. 

I guess this isn't much of a review. But anyway, the film is magnificent, I am loving what people have to say about it on IMDb. So far the funniest posts have been people complaining about clapping, cheering, and people who dressed up at the midnight screening! Why even go then if you are going to be such a party pooper. The rowdy teenagers people were complaining about were definitely having a better time than the bitchers. I didn't really have much of a problem, even as a loud teenager, because I wasn't near close to being the most obnoxious in the theater. A group of those typical douchebags (khaki cargo shorts, leather mandals, backwards baseball caps) had clearly come with 30 of their closest friends, and whenever a new one arrived they all clapped and cheered. (Thankfully this was just during the previews.) But that's the fun of opening night, at least for me. It makes me feel warm inside to know that people dressed up, I love and appreciate that sort of thing. 

Also: all the posters look INCREDIBLE. 


Radiohead's Set At Lakewood Amphitheater



Drifting Away

Sparkling wine was sent to me by the devil. How is it that good? Jill already warned me of the killer hangover. But seriously. I could drink the stuff like grape soda. It's fucking delicious. It was made for young girls like me.

I can see two cockroaches on the porch together. One on the column, one on the floor. I wonder what they are discussing.

Tomorrow I'm going to see The Dark Knight at midnight.

I can't tell you how relieved I am that K-Dub isn't leaving the Playboy Mansion.

P.S. Look how FUCKINGAWESOMEASSHIT that poster is. 

P.P.S. I like listening to Santogold in this condish. 


Reminds me of projectile vomit....

Out of the bevy of AP classes I can take for free from the state of Georgia, my mom told me to take boring old on-level biology.

I asked her why and she tells me the online school I am currently registered at teaches good ol' fashioned CREATIONISM. What? 

Turns out I will be receiving my diploma from the great state of Pennsylvania (where the school is accredited and also) where they allow the teaching of that bullshit. 


Basia & Snakes

I am currently enamored by a Canadian sing by the name of Basia Bulat. Cool name, cool sound.

Fireworks are the only good thing about America. I've said it once and I'll say it again. 

I heard yesterday that so many people have released their poisonous cobras that Florida now has a serious cobra problem. Holy shit that is scary. Snakes are the worst. My aunt was almost infuriated at this news. She hates it when people release their ant farms or weird types of fish, and then those non-native animals go taking the place over and fucking with the eco-system. That's why she didn't want to put some fish in her pond she's making, but now it's too dirty for her liking so she said some goldfish might be okay. 



Just exploring the Urban Outfitters clearance and came across this..... how the mighty have fallen. Sad day.

And then I saw this piece of garbage showing the true colors of Urban Outfitters:

They had a nice donkey one as well which I chose to overlook. Anyone who'd wear that is a douchebag. I hate when people wear shit promoting just voting. Not in support of any particular candidate, just voting. What I think is even more ridiculous is when those shirts become a fad ("Vote or Die"....shut the hell up) and celebrities like Paris Hilton start wearing them. I'm glad this shirt is on sale. Like, THANK YOU blankly-expressioned anno, now that you are wearing this  very fashion-forward teeshirt, I will now do my bidding, or voting, if you will.

I didn't even know any Republicans shopped at Urban...except Rick Santorum o' course o' course!

Bike Fall?

Why do they call it "falling off your bike"? Man I wish when you fell you could somehow become detached and 'off' the bike. Being all tangled in it is half the problem.

Yesterday I was just noticing that my scabby knee had cleared up since a big fall that happened around two weeks ago, and then today I went outside to try to do laps for a bit, and 15 minutes in I turned too sharply because my dog was in the way and busted my knee open again! I should really wear a helmet if my cycling proficiency is really declining at this rapid pace. I mean, I hit my chin and the chin is awfully close to the brain.

I hope a little skinned knee doesn't keep me from being feroshe this weekend, it is Pride after all.



"And much like most things with white people - they win both ways. If you decide to go with them, they feel good about getting someone off the couch and 'into the fresh air,' and if you don't decide to go, they can spend their entire time outdoors saying 'boy, this is great, X doesn't know what he/she is missing!' and running on a mix of self-satisfaction, Odwalla juice, and muesli."

I designed a terrific dress to wear to the Pride festivities. 


An Imagined Conversation & The Heist

So this week my aunt hired me to clean out this house some this crackhead couple lived in. Here's an imagined conversation between the two.

"Oh, honey, shit-battered cockroaches for dinner again!? We had that last night!"
"Oh. Oopsies. You're so right. What should we do with these then?"
"Uh, just dump them inside the burners of the stove along with some molasses."

These people were filthy, and this is coming from a slob. While I enjoy a nice pile of clothing here and there about a room, these people enjoyed having a uniform horrible smell. Every smelly part of their house smelled equally and uniformly rancid Like it was only one compromising smell. Toilet. Carpet. Fridge. I soon began to confuse the original horrid smell with the smell of the original smell drenched in gallons of orange cleaner (great stuff, btw). 

But anyway. Back to the reasonable part of my life.
So today Stephanie comes over, I tell her to park in the doctor's office across the street. She comes to the house for a while and then we decide to go shopping and grab a bite to eat, so we walk over to her car. It's dark. This doctor's office complex is fully dark, all blinds down with one corner office light on, no blinds. This sketchy looking guy is sitting at the desk of the well-lit office. Once he sees me looking at him he starts to hide, darting around the window. Not playfully. 

So then once we get back he starts hiding again, and Stephanie still had yet to see him. So she pulled out and drove a bit, to the second entrance. We drove up to the window just 
in time for him to be able to see him dart away. We had pulled up near the front entrance. I look over to the passenger side, and about three yards away this other sketchy guy is sitting there on the curb. I point him out to Stephanie and she shrieks. She just goes, "I am NOT parking here, I am NOT parking here!" and we drive away. She parks in our driveway. We are laughing our heads off but scared out of our minds. I want to come back and watch. So then we walk back with Domino, armed with Vogue, and sit on the porch of the other house. The window guy is skateboarding around. There's the curb guy, and then some new guy. They are all talking on cell phones. We hide from them, but they probably noticed us. Then they all drove away in a black BMW, which I'd seen there before. 

It was odd. I pictured the story as like the janitor cased the doctor's office and then 
brought some other people to rob it. But it's probably something much less dramatic. I hesitate to tell the people at the office, or what mutti said to do, call the police. 

I'm reading this fabulous book. It's great. Truman Capote talks shit. I might do a more in-depth review if I finish it. (I'm about halfway through as of now). It just got into the factory and all the factory people like Billy Name and Viva are being interviewed. 

Last Saturday at Goodwill someone stole my mom's cart and this book was the only thing in it. She thought someone had just taken it for the cart, so she looked on all the shelves to see where someone had stashed it. And found it back. What a glorious thrift store day. Those people can get so bitchy. But I got a Bill Tice so I'm okay with the setup. I like how the book was published in 1981 so it has a really '80s cover. The reprint has a very dated looking cover as well.  The format for the book is basically the same as the SNL retrospective, "Live from New York" where everyone's interviews are interwoven so it seems like they're telling the story to you. Which is a stellar format. 


Affirmative Action

Angelina Jolie's kids make up the perfect affirmative action for any top-tier university.

Half are white
1/3 Asian
1/6 Black.

Oooh we forgot the Latinos. Same thing Harvard said. 


You Were Right

Yeesh. I'd update this thing more frequently if exciting, happy, or worthwhile shit ever happened. 
I had a good week, lots of visits and such. Living 20 miles away from the east Cobb hub without a car makes me feel like some sort of invalid. People come over and I feel the need to entertain them. I have been working on mastering the perfect sandwich and Ghiradelli brownie. 
Living this far away shouldn't make me feel so detached. Everyone bitches about driving here. Plus where I live is a lot different from mass-commercialized east Cobb. 


Chan Marshall

Just saw Cat Power. It was incredible. Even though I only knew probably 40% of the material. Her dancing style is something to be envied. I thought it was cool how she was nervous about the Atlanta show because she was from Atlanta. 

I am not a big fan of myself right now. 

While I was typing that my vision fogged up. I don't know why. I mean, I do. Partly. I need to clean my act the fuck up. Like for serious. I enjoy having perfect grammar and eloquence in this condition. Like, WHAT A PLUS.

I am all the days that you choose to ignore. 

You're standing on the edge. 


Patricia Field, Coldplay, and hulu.com

So Friday Brian and I made a day out of going to see Sex and the City: The Movie. It didn't disappoint, but I'd have to say the real star of the whole she-bang had to be Pat Field. Like holy goddam shit. The clothes stole the show. The sex wasn't even that hot, definitely not as hot as the clothes. The hottest sex was probably the doggie-style between Miranda and Steve, which is pretty lame because they are the least pornographic looking couple. The grossest part of the movie was probably when we viewed a full on (fire)crotchshot. But anyway. Back to the clothes. Carrie was rockin' the florals something awful. I say "rockin'" not to appear hip and happenin' but because the nice demure 50's florals were brilliantly paired up with a vintage punk rock black studded belt and some killer Dior Extreme heels AT ALL TIMES. Once we see the sad Carrie, she starts wearing more black and being all sad, BUT IS STILL ROCKING THIS BELT. It pops up at the end as well. It's a nice touch. There was of course the necessary bridal montage and Carrie ends up in probably the least flattering of all the dresses used. I would've gone with the LaCroix, had I been her fictional character. The Zac Posen bridesmaid's dresses were breathtaking, especially the black one Charlotte wore.  I loved that they were all different colors. 

The new Coldplay leaked the other day and I've been listening to it off-and-on, but not seriously. It didn't excite me at all. I guess when an album leaks its just always got a different feel or vibe. You never hear the songs in the order you're supposed to, the titles are all jumbled. I got the Gnarls Barkley when it leaked, burned copies for friends, and it turned out all the songs were in the wrong order because they were all labeled with the wrong titles. I was trying to get this Coldplay all in order and it turned out there's five extra songs supposedly on the album. I don't even know why Rolling Stone reviews bootleg and that sort of thing. I think we should just keep all this illegal shit hush-hush and under the rug. Like a gay aristocrat. Now with all this downloading and shit there's all the acoustic versions, iTunes exclusives. Plus you know Coldplay has to be pretentious and combine tracks, and then some douche needs separate them and make them available for download. Sheesh. Maybe people should pay for shit occasionally. I don't love these songs, but I'm hoping that maybe if I listen to them in order I might warm to them.

So. I have a new addiction in the form of all my favorite television shows (Arrested Development and It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia pretty much) available for free streaming in the form of www.hulu.com. It's the greatest thing since sliced illegal streaming. And it has a lot of episodes of Morgan Spurlock's "30 Days" which I never had occasion to see owing to the fact that I don't have cable (the mother is against TV). I have become such a leather lounge chair potato as a result. "30 Days" is really stellar. So far my favorite episode had to be the one where Morgan and his wife Alex go live in Ohio on minimum wage. Once they started stressing about money their immune systems weakened and they fought so much more. Pretty interesting stuff. 

The past 4 days I had no internet connection and it is now miraculously much stronger, which I am happy of. 

We found a home for the cat. My cousin's friend's sister's (holy apostrophes) cat just died and she's been searching for a new one ever since. Ours sufficed. I was glad. I liked being a cat owner for 3 days. It was fun. I am glad I got to experience it. Now I know I never want a cat. It clawed up enough of my shit to piss me off, it scratched my skin so it looks like I self-harm. Ew. 


Dressing like Sophia and a Cat That Thinks it's a Dog

Yesterday I went to apply for a job at an Italian restaurant on the Square. I put on a crisp linen shirtdress with brown and pink stripes, big white round sunglasses, and gold flats. I kept the kinks in my hair and made it big and smooth. I contemplated a light brown Florentine hat, but conceded that it was too hot. I was dressed like Sophia Loren. On purpose. I had pictured this restaurant being run by the Sopranos or the Corleones. I got there and there was no smoky dark back room. The first guy I talked to told me I wasn't the guy he was looking for, he was the window washer. Then some old leathery classic Southern lady came out. and asked if she could help me, honey? I told her how I'd seen on craigslist that there were a lot of job openings at this particular restaurant, and wondered if any of the positions had been filled. She told me the manager was busy right now but she'd be able to see me later, and gave me an application. Whaaaaat? Where was Tony? Where was Vito?  This Italian restaurant was turning out to be pretty much bullshit. What was the point of dressing up for these mom-jeans clad people?

Today when my aunt got home I was talking on the phone and my aunt put a kitten in my lap. She told me it was abandoned in a storage facility and a client of hers had found it, and was deathly allergic. So she took it home. And now my aunt's dog, Peaches, is nursing it. My dogs don't like or trust it yet. It tried to nurse my dog, Domino (spawn of Peaches) and she flipped out. 

I've sneezed at least 6 times in the past 2 hours. None of those were like, three in a row either. I think I'm allergic to cats. I've never had one before, there's no way of knowing. We'll see. I need to think of a name for the cat before my mom and my aunt come up with some stupid one. Together they have some of the worst pet names in history. Fluffy (dog). Honey Bee (dog). 'Atta Boy (dog). La Morena, because she was black. I wanted to name her Token (dog). Domino because she has black spots and she's white (dog). I am pretty sure this cat is a female. She's like a Maine Coon mix I'd estimate. But in my mind there's only like two types of cats. 


The Periodicals of the Rich. And Obama.

I like to dumpster dive in the recycling center. Just to steal old "People" magazines. The recycling center is two houses down, in the garden center. It's weird to climb in the dumpster and look at all these magazines rich people read. They all have beautiful homes, does that have to do with the fact that they all read "Veranda" and "Southern Living". There are the weirdest things in there too. Like shares and the minutes to stockholder's meetings. RICH RICH RICH. Whenever I walk by the huge pink mansion down the street (it has a historical marker and whatnot) I always wonder what those people do all day. I don't know much about them. They have Chinese urns in the window. They hand out full sized candy bars on Halloween. They have a pool house. And a stable of sorts. A large piece of land. I wonder if they recycle. If they've dropped off some of the  issues of The New Yorker or Playboy that I've seen. I always wonder what they do inside their huge pink house. Scrabble? Do they have a home theatre or is that just a Buckhead thing? I wonder what they do in The Archibald Howell Home. I remember that because I read it almost every day when I pass the historical marker. That's one of two houses I can think of on this street with a historical marker. The other one is this farm called Oakton where some generals stayed during the Civil War. The Oakton people must've sold some of their land to developers, because there's a neighborhood in what would be the back of their sprawling yard. That Oakton place looks quite Austenian. I wonder if they recycle. I just can't even picture people living there. 

I guess Obama is now the Democratic nominee. Meh. Hooray history. 

That was all I was gonna write on the matter but then I was looking for a funny Obama picture on Facebook and was shocked that they were all so racist. They really took advantage of the "Barack Hussein O(s)ama" play-on-words. How fucking tasteless. But then I found that picture which I thought was pretty funny. Because to me it symbolizes those who like Obama. The same people jump on the Obama wagon as jump on the Che wagon. People forget Che was a murderer. They forget all the shitty things he did (killed civilians) and just get this Motorcycle Diaries mentality. They turn his life into an adventurous Disney movie and silk-screen away. Same with a lot of the Obama people I know. They listen to what Obama says and forget that he lacks experience and doesn't have a great health care plan. "Ohhh he talks about HOPE all the time!" Yes. Hope is a valuable thing. Just not as valuable as a good speech writer. If Che was ugly as shit he would not be an icon. If a good casting choice for The Motorcycle diaries had been say, Horatio Sanz (trying to keep it Latino) instead of superhot Gael Garcia Bernal, he wouldn't be a tee-shirt. Che was a Marxist, but you never see any Karl Marx tee-shirts. If Obama was bad (or even average) at giving a powerful and compelling speech about nothing, he wouldn't be as popular. I know that would mean he'd be less likely to be a politician. But still. STFU about Obama. But he's still better than McCain, I'll give him that. 


Radiohead "Going Green"

I just read in the new Rolling Stone that Radiohead's lighting rig is all LED lights, to be "green" and consume less power. Well I'm glad of that because their lighting rig when I saw them on May 8 was tight as shit. I never liked the song "There There" before those lights. They were incredible. 

The article was all about bands like Radiohead, DMB, and Jack Johnson trying to be as eco-friendly as possible, and Radiohead was practially the star. That made me happy. 

Oh, prah. Obesity. Censoring Facebook.

I am watching this episode of Oprah about obesity. It's 34 minutes in and I just now realized I've seen it before. I guess I just watch a ton of stuff about obesity. (Pun intended). There was this one story on the episode (the one that sparked my memory) that really struck me. Some lady who weighed around 400 lbs. and was prone to binge eating, ordered a 3 tier wedding cake, put two fake names on it, and then that's all she ate over a 2 day period. That just seemed like the saddest thing in the world. Especially the symbolism of the wedding cake. Just thinking about how she must've felt, or I guess how I would've felt, just like, hurt my feelings a bit. And then she said once she had lost enough weight to safely exercise, she was walking and some dudes threw a bottle at her. I would just feel so vulnerable. I really don't understand why there is so much emphasis on obesity on television. It's like non-sexual voyeurism almost. Like you're spying. This winter when I was at the beach the weather was horrible and I watched this obesity marathon of sorts on the Discovery Health Channel. I laid in a huge bed, ate fattening foods, and watched that marathon for hours. Like an obese person. It was relaxing. But it was basically seeing these people humiliated. One show made the people get their ass up and look at all the food they ate in one day. It always covered at least the whole dining room table. The reactions were mixed, some cried when they saw all that food, some didn't believe it, one guy sat down and ate all of it. 
On that note,
I have been doing a lot of biking lately. I fixed my bike up last week, and have been riding around at least an hour a day each day ever since. I didn't today, becau
se it's Monday, and I enjoy doing nothing on Monday. So instead the main activities of today were folding clothes and watching some of my Tyra and my Oprah. Since I'm at my aunts, the turf is a historic district one way, which is always cool to bike around, and a nature trail the other way, which is always nice to bike on. 
Yesterday kind of sucked. My uncle was in town for the weekend and I guess he didn't really want to see me because I don't have my life together. He didn't have his life together until like 4 years ago, so I don't know what his problem is. My cousin called me all smug to tell me I didn't need to come over. She was like, "uhm, I saw something on Facebook [my status a couple weeks ago, she doesn't know dick about Facebook] where you said you were happy about Summer, why would you be happy about that, you're not in school or anything..." she was bumbling all her words because she's horrible at being a bitch. Which is worse in a way because it's like a 7th grade flashback or something. But you could tell she had told this to other people like it was some funny anecdote. 
"Why would she care about the seasons?! She's not in school! Hahahaha isn't that hilarious, Boyfriend I Devote All My Time To?!?!" 
"Oh yeah. Let's have sex now." 
That seems like it must be all she does. He probably knows all my business. I hate that. Other Cousin tells her husband pretty much everything. The last time I was at their house they went and took a shower together to discuss me. I could hear them talking about it. 
 I am Facebook friends with one of Other Cousin's best friends, and she must Facebook stalk me or something, because she is ALWAYS asking nosy questions about stuff I post. On Memorial Day I went to Sweetwater Creek with my mom and aunt (mother of Cousins) and put my status as "sunburned from Sweetwater" and I have a private message from this girl that's like, "exactly WHAT were you doing at Sweetwater, and how." 
She thought I meant Sweetwater BREWERY. Which is named after the creek. What an effing lush to assume I was off getting drunk and then apparently bragging about it on Facebook. She's done other things about that in the past. My friend Katharine posted a video where we were talking about one occasion (before I went to rehab for a bevy of things) where I was roaring drunk and puked everywhere. She apparently told Other Cousin and her spouse about it. This is a stupid thing to write about, but it's just been bugging me, stop being effing nosy. This girl (keep in mind) thought a great default picture would be her chugging a huge beer in full cinco de Mayo regalia. She binge drinks. Leave me alone. I thought it was a little Third Reich-y that Facebook started allowing "Friends Lists", where you can filter what certain groups of friends can and cannot see, but I am beginning to think that it'd be a good idea to make one for the 25 and up nosy crowd. It's not my best interests you have at heart if you are concerned about me going to a creek with my family or saying I was happy for summer, it's you being a snug asshole. 

P.S. I love how asshole is apparently in the Apple Dictionary. Hahahaha I just looked it up.


Kimya & Augusten

I've often said my favorite part of Juno had to be the soundtrack. And with my days of being lazy, I have basically just resorted to MySpace stalking minor celebrities.  Not anyone too tacky, just like Leigh Lezark and the Misshapes cohorts, the cast of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia", Augusten Burroughs, and now Kimya Dawson and her husby, Angelo Spencer. He sure is cute as hell. And look at their baby! Bitch could kick Suri Cruise's ass out of...wherever babies enjoy fighting. 

The other day (two Sundays ago?) I met Augusten Burroughs. It happened in a rather strange way, in that one of my BFFFFFFFFFFs Brian, got cancelled on the Saturday night before, so we decided to go to Midtown, and naturally he wanted to go to the gay bookstore, (but is it natural?) the famed Outwrite. We walk into Outwrite and their is what could only be described as a shrine devoted to the god of the gay memoir(or maybe that would be Sedaris, at any rate), Augusten Burroughs. All the shit was piled high. DVDs of Running With Scissors, hardbacks, softbacks, books on tape, all neatly stacked in a way that seems like it could be achieved only by a gay man. I had heard about his new book, "A Wolf at the Table" and wondered if this was the point of all this jazz. Well. Partially. Outwrite was giving away tickets to the event they were hosting, a reading by Augusten Burroughs the very next night. We got two.

Brian couldn't go because he actually has shit to do, so I invited my mom. We dressed up casually chic and drove to the Alliance Theatre. When we walked in these two girls dressed like goth/emoish were trying to find the theatre and I'd been there dozens of times, so I was a little snotty. All you do is follow the signs. When we got to the lobby/bar area there were 4 long competitive lines and mutti got us a good place in one. I spent $2.50 on a can of diet coke, and waited in line feeling fabulous. Over time I was beginning to feel pretty lame, I only have one of his books, a softcover of his seminal "Running With Scissors" that I bought at the thrift store, but some of these betches waiting in line besides me were pretty hard-fuckin-core. Like, they would have all his books, in hardcover, plus his brother, John Elder Robison's book. And be discussing all of them with their co-queuers. Some people had already read the new book, and not just the first 2 pages, like me. I love reading, but I am still too cheap or undignified or whatever to spend $27.00 on some depressing-ass book. I mean, I'm sure I will read it, eventually. But I already have Daddy issues. I don't need to pay a quarter of a pair of shoes to read about someone else's. His dad really did sound effed up. He was a sociopath. But so we eventually got herded into the theatre, and who should we end up sitting next to but those girls who asked us how to get into the theatre. I had a good chat with the one sitting closest next to me.  Either Palahniuk was her favorite and Burroughs was her friend's or the other way around. She wanted to discuss Palahniuk with me though. Out of his whole works I've only read "Guts" in it's entirety. I was BS-ing it. 

So finally after the speaker from the Alliance Theatre and the one from Outwrite, all the lights went out and they started playing one of three songs written for the book tour, inspired by "A Wolf At the Table". The song was "His Love" by Tegan Quin, from Tegan and Sara and it was utterly amazing. So far I've only been able to find it on www.augusten.com if anyone is actually reading this and wants to check it out.

But then after that song. Augusten came out. He was in what has been described as his "book tour outfit" which consisted of a leather jacket, a hard looking teeshirt, some nice darkwashes, a trucker hat, and some Gucci loafers. He's definitely lost some weight because he looked hot as shit. He did the reading, which was marvelous, I'd listen to him read the whole book. And then the whole Q&A yadda yadda yadda. Near the end of the Q&A people were leaving and I wondered why, and once we got back into the lobby it was blatantly apparent. I line that stretched longer then the bendy modernist couch. I told my mom I wanted to wait in the line. She said we'd have to leave if it took too long. But she just sat down on the bendy modernist couch and started reading some other book she pulled out of her huge Michael Kors Mary Poppins bag. People probably thought she was a huge traitor, or a Communist spy. Some lady behind me had already read the new book, and I asked her about something Augusten had mentioned at the reading. She thought this made me her line BFF. She kept talking to me the whole way up, which would be fine except then she wanted me to save a spot for her while she went and bought the only book she didn't have, right when we were about to be corralled into the most intense line (stretch dividers!). I told her I'd save her spot and people looked at me like I was the hugest asshole. I haven't saved someone's spot in line since probably 7th grade I'd estimate. The line was beginning to feel like the line to see Santa, with the asshole-o-meter at about December 21st. People were getting competitive. There was a guy frantically scribbling the proper spelling of your name onto a post-it and making sure you put it on the correct page, THE TITILE PAGE, just as I was frantically trying to think of what to say to Augusten. I was debating busting out my old-ass camera phone to take a picture, but that would probably cost at least 12 dollars to send to a current computer. Once you got to the front of the line, this cute hipster gay boy who obviously worked at Outwrite gets all name elf and asks you how you pronounce your name and goes and whispers it to Augusten and then when he says your name you're supposed to act like the guy didn't go tell him. See? Just. Like. Santa. I still had nothing to say, so I said "I've been waiting all week to meet you!" slightly insanely. Which was a huge lie. I had been waiting like 24 hours. I desperately wanted to be a person he remarked upon at later dates, the girl who goes up and says "Me too." about her dad, or asks a funny question. Or I could've asked about his dogs. But I chose to just lie. He was like, "Oh, kind of a let-down then, hm?" and I didn't know what to say back. 

That was much longer than expected. Or maybe not expected, necessary. 


Purpose? I think not.

I'd like to think that the hours I spend on the internet (spend not waste) might add up to a blog with a concise path, fashion, music, Wikipedia, small dogs, I dunno....something with a point. But I don't really think my life has a point right now, and I don't mean that in a way that conveys depression, I just basically mean it in that I don't know what I'm doing right now, and I need to figure it out, so that's probably what the gist of this blog will be focused towards. 

So far, as of today, I am a high school dropout. No one really views it that way, but I pretty much do.  The choices for the fall include
  • Go to McNair High School, a really bad school 
  • Go to Grady High School, a really good school
  • homeschooling online 
  • GED. I am still considering this one. 
I don't even know. I need to figure this shit out.