La Dick

om navah shivaya

2011-06-06T15:02:00.001-07:00

So I just had the craziest experience in yoga, and i finally understand Om. My grandma would always try to explain what Om was when I was little. She would say an om and then say – listen, you can hear it all the time. It's the sound of the universe. It's the sound the universe makes. But I could never hear it and it was always frustrating because when I listened in the silent still montana forest, I could only hear a high pitched ringing in my ears. It didn't sound very impressive, and I doubted that the universe made a high pitched buzz. Didn't sound powerful enough. It was probably powerlines. Or dry pine needles about to burst from hot montana summer sun.

Recently at LiB I ate acid and did a meditation i've been doing lately where i radiate love (which apparently has a name - metta bhavana) I went right back into my 5meo-DTM journey (which i will write about soon) and remembered the intensely powerful buzzing vibration that is also a taste and a smell and a feeling that I forgot from the original journey. I remembered the sound/taste/feel/smell of the divine from the DTM journey. it was so powerful and beautiful and terrifying and awe inspiring and i WAS the vibration.

Then I did yoga today and as we all Omed together I was totally blown away and overwhelmed when I felt that same deep vibration in the Om sound and realized that fucking DUH, that vibration that I was feeling in those journeys is OM. It is the sound of the universe. The sound of the divine. I had to stop Oming because it's impossible to cry and Om at the same time. It totally rocked my world.

Getting my world rocked by the universe gets more and more standard as this journey goes on.

love is not a declaration

2011-06-03T16:27:00.000-07:00

but a state of being. THE state of being. it is being.

for anyone who has known me for a long time, i've undergone a radical transformation. for those of you who have just met me, or started reading me, we were probably brought together as a direct result of this transformation. what an amazing universe we are!

i've been slowly shaking off the cynical shit talking that has been the definition of Me. i'm feeling less and less attached to the name La Dick, considering it came from a conversation with a fellow cold hearted shit talker about how we are both just such DICKS. i've let go of that way of being. i am open to love now. i feel calm and grounded and open where before i was shut off. i was funnier then, for sure, but also empty. i was choosing fear instead of love. in every moment of our lives, we have the choice between love and fear. i was choosing fear without even knowing there was a choice.

i am so full of love now. it has been such a journey.

first of all

2011-04-20T08:54:00.000-07:00

dear half of my facebook friends, i don't care how fucking far you ran today or at what time, and when you post it pretending to complain about your 6 am 12 mile run what you are really doing is attention seeking and it's annoying. run or don't, at the crack of dawn or not, i don't give a fuck. and neither does anyone else except possibly your few sycophantic friends who are jealous and have no self esteem so they say "omg i couldn't even run three miles, you are amazing how do you fit it all in you crazy superwoman!" stop it! stop encouraging the attention seeking. enough is enough. (this doesn't apply to my friends who actually run competitively and just want to update everyone on their progress. there's a difference.)

take a minute and read the above conversation. that is the future of our nation. we are totally fucked.

in other news wow i am obsessed with these nail things. i have sweated minx since they first arrive on the scene, but i'm too OCD to let someone else do my nails. i used to have ghetto tips (pointy claw ones, duh) but i got sick of sitting on the other side of the table watching like a hawk and grinding my teeth and sweating as the nail tech filed slightly imperfectly and i would go home and redo them myself anyway. no more. now i am sticking to this ghetto sally hansen shit. this photo is from the first day i put them on so my nails are short. these things actually lasted 10 days and my nails underneath grew out perfectly and are now super long and ready for the next round. which is herringbone. i think. is herringbone played out? i can't tell. i also bought tiger and silver from sephora. i'll let you know how it goes. thank you so much liz! i would never have thought to try these before your post. who knew drug store nail game could be so tight?

i will keep him.

here is some advice for you.

2011-04-09T13:40:00.000-07:00

if you are not in a relationship that makes you feel like a total bad ass bitch and makes you happy every minute of every day, you should break up. no, seriously. if you aren't in that type of relationship, you should be. what? that would mean that 90% of all people in relationships should break up? yes, i agree. 90% of people in relationships should break the fuck up so that new good doors can open where the bad ones are closed and locked with no key.

sometimes when biggie falls asleep in my lap in the sun it's the cutest most absurd thing ever.

sometimes we go sailing in sausalito and it looks a lot like the above.

sometimes i get taken on amazing ski vacations in tahoe and they look like the above. not pictured, the driest air of all time. we ordered an air humidifier from the front desk and then talked about how dry the air was and was it this dry last time we were in tahoe and it couldn't have been this dry because i've never felt so dehydrated in my life and i've been to tahoe a lot and sometimes you realize you sound like a 70 year old italian complainer from the upper west side.

sometimes people say they want to see more photos of my tits on the internet.

sometimes my long lost friend from LA appears in san francisco and takes me out to dinner after we walk around the city for 10 miles in the shortest skirt imaginable.

and then sometimes during dinner he takes a million extreme close ups of my mollie hangover face.

sometimes my business partner in nyc ships me my 46" plasma flat screen and i pay eight million dollars in insurance and shipping and it still arrives totally demolished and i have to go to war with UPS.

sometimes totally out of nowhere you meet your match.

hello compulsion my old friend.

2011-03-14T18:29:00.000-07:00

oh god heart is breaking save kitty.

today at whole foods I was totally gripped with the urge to straighten every box on the shelf and container of juice and apple in the pile. No. not the urge. an urge is something different. The compulsion. the obsessive compulsion. Like I recognized the feeling in me from the days of small childhood that whispers to me that me something bad is going to happen if I don't carefully adjust things like the toilet paper tearing perfectly or the way a box of tea is on a shelf until I have a strong sense of the energy in the inanimate object aligning perfectly with the energy in the other inanimate object that it's aligning with.

i want to feel like everything is going to be okay but i don't today.

the other day it was pouring rain and i was sitting in the dj's car while he moved his rv to a new parking spot. the car headlights were shining directly on a homeless man sleeping under dirty blankets on cardboard in a doorway. cliche homeless guy. and his little shoe was sticking out of the doorway and getting rained on while his socked foot was dry and safe sticking out of the blankets under the overhang and i thought about him putting his dry foot in that soaking shoe and fuck! so heartbreaking! i should have pushed his shoe into the ledge but it would have been so invasive of his little area he created and i couldn't do it and then couldn't forgive myself after we drove away for not doing it and then cried and cried at the injustice of the world and how unfair it is and how sad it is that animals get killed in feedlots like they are soulless lumps of muscle when i can see clearly that they have thoughts and feelings and fears and souls, definitely souls. fuck. feeling farther away from things and sad and creeping depression. this is not me.

2011-03-13T15:59:00.000-07:00

i should be packing. but instead. this.

fuck! japan! woah.

just once in my life i would like to wash a load of dark clothing without forgetting a kleenex in a pocket. white lint is the name of my game. also, i'm sick of fakeness. i'm really only interested in authenticity in my experiences. if you put it out there that you'd like to hang out with me or be my friend or have some kind of personal interaction with me, i expect it to be for real. otherwise, what's the point? who has time for bullshit?

breathe in light
shine brightly
breathe out love

14 years ago today.

2011-03-09T12:39:00.001-08:00

RIP King of NYC.

writer's block and special k

2011-03-07T17:27:00.000-08:00

(it's possible that this is one of the best pics of all time.)

it turns out that K is super fun. i've always a major drug snob when it came to K because my only experiences with it were morons rolling around in a K Wrestling pile (i wish that wasn't a thing, but it is.) or sitting motionless in the corner of the club in a k hole. annoying! so annoying. plus i'm kind of a pussy when it comes to psychedelics. i've never done acid w/o ecstasy, for example, because i feel like there's already a million crazy things going on in my head and i'm not sure i need lsd in there fuckin wit me unless i have a steady flood of serotonin in there as well, just to be safe.

(taken the day after arriving back in SF after burning man. check the playa dreads i had rocking. my head weighed a hundred pounds.)

anyway, the opportunity came up to try it, with awesome people in a super safe setting, so i went for it. it's surprisingly ridiculously fun to be that retarded. it was also exactly like i expected. i went completely retarded and laughed my ass off and felt that really, it's less of a hallucinogen and more of a disassociative (duh) and it didn't really have any mental trip. it made me fucking stupid, but not freaked out tripping. and it was way less scary than the times i got dosed with DXM, another disassociative that i accidentally ate a few times in DC. DXM is scary and made me want to die, K is fun and made me a giggling idiot. for example, on DXM i couldn't tell the difference between a spoon and a pen, and i was too afraid to actually converse. on K, we lucidly discussed the potential spellings of the movie Baraka for approximately 10 minutes (which is a long time for four people with internet access to discuss the spelling of a word) and came to the conclusion that it's probably got two Rs in it, but they aren't next to each other. i know. RE. TARDED. there's no shame in my game, we went straight retarded.

(taken in my friend's RV. this thing was basically the size of a two bedroom house.)

in other news, i have fucking writer's block like a motherfucker. i'm writing the copy for a website for a new company i'm helping to launch, and it has to be a cross between sophistication and whimsy, appeal to high end boutiques and soccer moms, and be informative about organic cotton. so you know, no big deal.

do you guys know about this? http://documentaryheaven.com/ Also known as the most exciting link of all time. right now i'm watching a documentary about Aleksander Litvinenko who worked for the russian secret service and then was subsequently poisoned by them. with a rare radioactive substance no less. interestingly, they were able to trace the substance across the world due to it's radioactive nature and the fact that it leaves invisible traces of radioactivity as it's transferred from jet planes to cars to hotel rooms. russian is the sexiest language of all time. russian politics...not so much. truth is truly stranger than fiction.

can someone please inspire me? i need to get this writing done and instead i'm looking for dog vitamins online and making tea and doing laundry and posting on this blog and these things will not pay the bills. fuck.

success in love or money.

2011-03-01T10:47:00.000-08:00

i am doing precisely zero percent of my work today. i am moving into a new loft on the 7th. maybe i should pack. MAYbe i said. don't rush me. i don't like to do things before they are necessary.

i don't give a fuck about the oscars. am i the only one?

in other news, i just lost what is (sadly) a seriously large amount of money due to a misunderstanding with my w-4. basically a month's rent. it is sad that a month's rent is a lot to me right now, but it is. i can't catch a fucking break to save my own life. it's always something. every time i almost feel like financially things are going to be okay something happens like my ex leaves me (thank god he left, but still) with a 2 bedroom apartment and a massive amex bill or (at my poorest) my 5 pound chihuahua eats a 3 pound caesar salad and i have to spend a million dollars on him to make sure he doesn't explode or the interest rate on my student loan doubles overnight and all of a sudden i have to spend twice as much a month for the same education and i should have just gone to law school after all if i'm going to pay that fucking much for school. or the time my design firm canceled all our contracts so we could pursue a second season with a major greek client only to find out he went to jail for embezzling approximately one million dollars from his partner by laundering money through said design firm. i always see the light at the end of the tunnel but never fucking make it there. fuuuuck. fuck.

(that's me in white at the top left.) (on the best morning of my life.)

i'm slowly venturing back into the virutal world.

2010-12-30T12:17:00.001-08:00

i mean VIRTUAL world. see how rusty i am? rusty.

so i had a spiritual awakening/rebirth/was reborn from the desert a new, raw, honest, present, creature. i'm still a shit talking cynic, don't worry. it's just that i'm a totally different person emotionally, meaning that i can actually feel emotions now and no longer mistake the rollercoaster of anxiety, excitement and heartbreak for love.

all the buddhist concepts of being present and open-hearted and free from attachments that were concepts i was raised by but only understood conceptually are more than just concepts now. they are are reality. that sounds super annoying and pretentious i know. but it's the truth.

i was thinking about giving the run down on the last six months...but wow. what a fucking ride. i would have to quit my job to have time to write it all down. which i will do someday. but not now. let's just say my life is 100% entirely different than it has ever been before. there is a before burning man and an after. when the temple burned down with my grandmother's prayer beads inside, tied lovingly on a pink string, and the last of me was washed away and released...there was a before that and a now. i'll keep you posted on how the now is going.

(i'll probably have to explain this picture at some point as well.)

(and this one too.)

(this one is pretty self explanatory. that right there is some old fashioned ass shaking on the dance floor.)

i still exist.

2010-12-09T12:09:00.001-08:00

more later.

just so you all know:

2010-08-30T10:42:00.000-07:00

i made white fake fur leg warmers with tassels. that's right bitches. TASSELS. you all know my obsession with tassels and seriously there is nothing that is not made better by them, including these fake fur legwarmers.

i moved into my new place the other day, the crazy bitch moved out and took all her super mario brothers ish with her. i am in 100% love with my new place. my roommates are the nicest people on the planet and drove my crazy ass all over the bay area looking for last minute burning man stuff. i know! right? they don't even know me or know what burning man is, yet there we were at sports authority in daly city discussing the pros and cons of different tent stakes. yay for nice people and company cars.
like i said, i had to hook up the pink. and if one is going to hook up pink, it might as well be ruffly booty shorts. right?

last night i had a dream that i was part of a freestyle cypher backstage at that show that ?uestlove (does he still spell it like that?) is the drummer for...what is that fucking show called i can't remember. not jimmy kimmel. jimmy falon? i'm googling hold on. YES, late night with jimmy fallon. anyway it was awesome. yes, that is the entire story. were you hoping for more? there's no more. if you are feeling unsatisfied just scroll up and check out my tits again, they usually make me feel pretty good.

xoxo everyone, see you after the burn.

i am going to burning man and not a damn thang can stop me.

2010-08-24T17:12:00.001-07:00

i had the most fucked up job interview of all time today. i won't say any names, but the company is one of Macy's best sellers. this was my third interview and it was basically yet another hour of being talked AT by corporate officers. there were no questions asked. okay, that's not true, there were rhetorical questions asked and then immediately answered by the asker (as is the nature of rhetorical questions.) At the end of my third interview they were totally verbally abusive, on some "i don't know why you think you could work here but we'll think about it and get back to you" shit, i'm not kidding, and there was one part where either sales manager or the CEO straight up lied to my face. they couldn't both be telling the truth. wtf. i don't have the energy to go into the details, but i don't think i'll be working there. thanks for the offer assholes, and thanks for wasting my time.

in other news, i'm going to fucking burning man next week fuuuckkkk yeahhhhh!!!!! i'm camping with PM and have to hook up a ton of pink shit to get ready. your girl does not wear pink.

one of the days all the girls are wearing ties and sunglasses and nothing else (see above.) i bought these ridiculous platform boots to wear as well.

keeps the alkaline playa dust off your feet so you don't get playa foot which is basically an alkaline burn. fight club style. i basically had to sell my soul to find these bitches. one would think that san francisco would be a mecca of platform boots if anywhere was. one would be wrong.

this is the closest thing to a shirt i plan on wearing for seven straight days. cool? good.

also i grew this booty for you guys. do you like it? i think i'll keep it around. i don't know where it came from buy it's welcome to stay. and grow. and thrive and be prolific.

gravity is my homie. (dj above) love him. sexiest pink wearing straight man of all time. i can't even watch these videos because i get too fucking excited to sit still and my entire day is shot because i can't focus dreaming of dancing my ass off with amazing people and wearing no shirt and having brown tits and no tanlines and wearing giant platform boots and seeing amazing art and probably yes okay eating drugs and riding my bike around and getting fucking playa dust everywhere except hopefully in my contact lens case and i could go on and on. i am seriously beside my self with excitement. this fucking job interview can kiss my soon to be dusty and tan ass. so can my apartment situation. i found a room in a three story loft, with my own patio and bathroom (I KNOW) in the Dog Patch district which is super close to a guy i may or may not be dating...he may or may not be featured somewhere in this post...it may or may not be in the beginning of this paragraph...and the people that already live there are cool and their dog gets along with biggie. the only problem is that the crazy bitch that lives in the room refuses to leave so they may have to forcibly evict her. she is a 27 year old woman and the room looks like an 8 year old boy lives there. she has a super mario brothers comforter and sheet set, a DOOM poster on the wall, a batman figurine in the bathroom (that's a fucking slap in the face to this loft. batman figurines do not belong on heated slate floors, bitch. thank you and goodnight.) and a fucking closet full of comic books. fucking weirdo. and before you emo indie comic book nerds start getting hard, she's moving out because she just found out she's pregnant and she's going to move in with her man so they can play xbox together while she gestates. gestates? gross. anyway, if her bitch ass would get out i would be all good in the hood, but such is the nature of my life. nothing is easy. it's all coming together though, and i'm keeping my chin up. (we'll see if i say that on thursday when i officially have to be out of this place and have no where to go...bitch better get to packing up her stan smith shit because biggie and i are moving in whether she likes it or not.)

check the ass and hips on that girl in the pink shorts. yes please.

LIZ COME TO THE BURN DO NOT ARGUE. oh and by the way i went to piedmont on haight the other day and thought of you - have you been? i'm guessing no, because if you had you'd still be there kind of like how this bitch won't move out of my room.

that is all.

do solitary souls have soulmates?

2010-08-06T15:00:00.001-07:00

you know how when people say "it's just god's plan"? it's super annoying. it doesn't explain anything, it's just a way to feel better about the absolute shit you've been dealt. oh, it's for a reason. it's the universe just giving me what i need. whatever. i'm fucking sick of it.

i have lived such a solitary life. a life of solitude surrounded by friends and family and men. alone in the crowd is the story of my life. up all night as a child, alone in the woods, waiting for the sun to come up.

i have never had a partner in crime. never had parents to show me the world, saw it all on my own. "She'll be okay, she's a strong one." that's me. the strong one that can handle myself in any situation, in any place, all alone.

i've never had a man i connected with on a serious level. they are always situational. this one is good for bringing home to meet my dad, but i wouldn't want my friends to meet him. this one is good with my friends in san francisco, but only some of them, because the other ones would say he wasn't good enough. this one is fucking perfect, amazing, would take him anywhere...but oh, right, he's taken. this one is perfect in montana, to go snowboarding with and surfing with...but he'd get eaten alive in nyc. this one is perfect in the grimy hip hop club in DC, take his ghetto ass to soul camp everyweekend, but don't expect him to make sense at dinner with your canadian family eating with a knife his right hand and an upside down fork. and finally, in my happy place, buzz dc at 4 am rolling face in a club full of 4000 family members, i am alone alone alone, a third wheel and a 4001st wheel.

here i am again, outside looking in.

www.plentyofpsychos.com

2010-07-09T14:25:00.000-07:00

So i caved to the pressure of my friends and joined plentyoffish.com. so far it has been a complete shitshow. some of the guys are probably not insane, but are totally boring. some of them are sad and make me sad and i can't really think about it for too long.

And then there's the dudes that are so motherfucking creepy and weird that i had to let ya'll in on the magic.

Psycho #1
(after he tells me how gorgeous I am and pretends he’s 34 even though he clearly looks 50.)
"The proposal is this:
If you are still waiting for Mr. Right, then, in the mean time, would you not want to spend magical time with this Mr. Right Now - who will stimulate your mind, raise your spirits, and pleasure your body skillfully and caringly?

If you find this proposal unwelcome, then please disregard this message with my apologies. I will not bother you again.

But….if this proposal intrigues you even a little – well then read on!!

When I arrive in the Bay area, I would like to take you out for the first of what will surely be many dates..…and on the menu: lively conversation, fine wine, exotic food and …

If all goes well and we have a good connection, then I envision us getting closer as the evening progresses and who knows – perhaps even a beautiful, erotic and satisfying night making love with the promises of many more. I am a lively companion and an interesting conversationalist. I am also a good kisser, am very skilled at giving pleasure in all different ways – including giving massages and oral. I am skilled at finding that elusive g-spot and if you like satisfying, deep and long lasting penetration, sign me up! (I can attest that those Kegels definitely work)!"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Save your dirtbag prostitution requests for craigslist casual encounters you narcissistic douchebag. I mean don't get me wrong, i like satisfying, deep and long lasting penetration as much as the next girl, but i definitely don't want it from some aging Bostonite in town on business who reminds me to do my kegels.

Psycho #2
the title of his email is: "first date we eat biggie smalls"
(my dog's name is biggie smalls. not a good start, asshole.)

"Appetizer, prepared Buffalo wing
style, were gonna make soul food
out of your soul mate, and mate
in the wake of it.

I have 2 furry siblings who
provide the laugh track, no need
for your rabid rodent to intrude
on the lolz.

I was gonna compliment your
nose, the turn of it sits well
with me, but your eyeballs are
having a funny (fuzzy) impact on
my systolic pressure."

Okay. Where do i even begin? i wrote him back to let him know that although he probably meant this whole thing as a lighthearted, creative attempt to get my attention, the best way to a woman's heart is definitely NOT through cooking her dog. He wrote back "does this mean we can't mate? well, good luck fair buffalo slayer." what can i even add to that? not to mention that i checked his profile and his "two furry siblings" are cats. fucking cats. no offense to the cat lovers out there, but a single man with two cats? NAGL. just sayin.

in other news, i just realized i have followers! hi guys!

sex with you is like having a monkey clinging to me humping away. just sayin.

2010-07-08T10:17:00.000-07:00

so i had to talk to my ex last night. i always dread it because it's never a normal adult conversation, and the longer i spend away from him the more shocking his way of being is.

he owes me approximately q98347981347592834 dollars, and i only think it's fair that he at least pay back $4000 of it. once in a while, just for the fuck of it, i text him to ask him when he plans on paying me back. it's usually right after i've told someone the story of how we broke up and all the financial shit he pulled, and the person says holy SHIT that is fucked up, and then i realize that yes, it is totally fucked and i should text him just to see what he says.

so of course he writes back "what debt? what are you talking about?" like he has no idea. which is hilarious because it's basically been the topic of every argument we've had for the last year. so i explain the debt to him like he's five, which he is on the inside, and sort of on the outside too actually.

so then the text battle ensues, and then he calls me which is always a total shitshow. the call usually starts sort of civilly, and then he starts saying the most random things like "i shouldn't have to pay you back because i don't have time, i have a 2 hour commute everyday." that makes total sense, never mind. uhhh wtf??? so then i say, it's your choice to live with your parents in the Virginia countryside and work in DC. then he says "i don't have time, i have to talk to my army recruiter every day." oohhhh right, the army recruiter, you know, to re-enlist in the army that you went AWOL from. good call. So i say, "that's your choice as well, and really, how long does that take every day?" and then, the inevitable happens. he does this thing where he starts to list all the things that are going on in his life, and then he starts to yell the list, and by the end it's just him screaming a list of bullshit excuses in a fake boston accent into the phone. the list will also invariably include the fact that he thinks having a job you love doesn't constitute work (i worked fucking 15 hour days, 5 days a week the entire time we were together, but he doesn't think it was actual work because work is something you hate.)

so he's like "well also i have to lie to the army every day about having had melanoma so they will send me to iraq and also my dog died and also i have to sit with my dad while he cries about having lung cancer AND I HAVE TO WORK NOT THAT YOU'D KNOW WHAT THAT'S LIKE AND I HAVE TO HAVE DRINKS SOMETIMES AND I HAVE CLASSES AND FINALS AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS CAR THAT I FUCKING HATE AND I HAVE TO HAVE MEETINGS AT THE RESTAURANT AND I HAVE TO DO IT ALL WITHOUT BLOWING MY FUCKING HEAD OFF SO NO, I DON'T HAVE TIME TO PAY YOU BACK."

and his poisonous anger filled bullshit starts to seep into the phone and i can feel it toxifying my cells and i can literally feel stress chemicals begin to eat away at my insides and i realized why the fuck i kicked his pathetic ass to the curb in the first place, and instead of saying all the shit i want to say - the logical, normal shit that makes total sense - i just calmly tell him what a child he is and hang up the phone.

the bottom line is that all the money in the world isn't worth having to deal with an irresponsible childish pathetic alcoholic for the rest of my life, and i got off easy.

your girl called me milk cuz your boy did her body good.

2010-06-29T10:59:00.000-07:00

i am seriously in love with this person. he was in my dream last night for fuck's sake. yes, i rescued him from a sinkhole in the LA freeway and then yes, we fell in love. he's from DC and has that DC swag (hate that word but it's relevant) and accent that totally fuck me up. i'm a sucker for some district of columbia. not to mention a mind like this? really? best MC on the planet absolutely no joke or exaggeration. kanye's repetitive inflection and empty lyrics can step and hova has never wrote a rhyme with this much substance in his life.

fuck iraq hip hop i die now for. mmmmm.

seriously check this shit out. hasn't come off repeat in days. i heard his girl broke his heart this year sometime and i'm all about healing that shit up. get at me, wax. xo.

EDIT: upon rereading i realize that this sounds like some crazed fan dick riding, which it's not. i have no clue what this dude is like in person and don't pretend i could heal him up when i have no idea what happened or who he is. i'm just saying that fuck, from a distance it's hard not to fall in love with this kind of talent, heart, soul and energy. so that's what's up.

ahh the subleties of naked picture taking.

2010-06-01T16:29:00.000-07:00

it's hilarious how i can absolutely tear apart a pic of myself. for example, the one above is good but my booty looks a little small and i think the nostrils are featured too heavily.

this one is good of the boobs but the way you can see my bony heel is kind of creepy in the background and i'm not that into the weird gaping mouth thing i've got going. and also i don't like the way my fingers look.

this one is actually okay, but but my left boob looks weirdly long.

man arm. no bueno. obsess much??? am i the only one who does this shit or is this hyper obsessive detail noticing behaviour totally insane?

also how is it possible that denis leary is so fucking hot in rescue me? how does a man with worse hair than donald trump, heinous bono sunglasses and gap tooth make me want to get thrown around a room like WHAT?

omg i am SO fucking sorry

2010-05-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

that last post was too emo for words. kind of like how tumblr is too hipster to function. i swear every other post on my tumblr dashboard is some skinny white bitch in studded cut off jeans over tights with chipped nail polish and a striped shirt smoking with messy hair and moody lighting omg enough already.

today it's raining fucking cats and dogs and i want to jump out the window. yesterday was gorgeous and i went for a run with the homegirl robin on the embarcadero. two fine ass italian bitches running on a hot summer day in the city? nagl. every fucking streetperson and lunching business man from the bay bridge to chrissy fields tried to holler. i think it was mostly because robin's booty was bouncing all over the place and it's impossible not to notice a ghetto booty on a runner. so unfair.

no seriously, it's a fucking torrential downpour right now is my house going to blow away? it's at least two hundred years old and my room is basically on stilts over the back yard. will you guys call 911 for me?

i'm feeling much better than i was at this time last week. i just had to work through the insanity and now i'm back on my game.

in other news, in the last few days i've seen more things i can't talk about due to their total illegality than i have in my entire life, which is really saying something considering my past as a drug dealer. welcome back to SF, la dick.

how you do me this way? got me crying rivers like timbaland and timberlake.

2010-05-21T14:01:00.000-07:00

i got bad news on the phone yesterday. a good lesson in the form of bad news, actually. the lesson is this: you can't trust motherfucking anyone. i immediately left work to go have a drink in the sun and try to wrap my mind around the news. it didn't work. one drink turned into a million drinks and i came home numb drunk pissed amazed numb numb numb. laid in bed under the open window and watched the leaves sway in the breeze, watched the dusk turn to night, felt the rain on my face through the open window, stunned shocked sad numb numb numb even though i knew all along. unbelievable.

2010-05-18T20:51:00.000-07:00

where do i find prints of the art in belly? because i want it all over my walls and the inside of my head.

so apparently the nightly ritual of the Gs downstairs is to rap, smoke weed, bump into shit, and cough until five am. then they disappear for a few hours and i stress out about trying to fall asleep and how much work i have to do in the morning and how fucking annoying they were and finally fall asleep only to be awoken by a single bird singing the same incessant three notes. i secretly make a deal with god that if he gives me a sniper rifle i'll quit swearing forever. he doesn't answer. i pray to Mary for a slingshot, at least, but she doesn't exist either so i just stress out and toss and turn. then at 8 am the gangsters reconvene and sing fucking karaoke. no joke. they sing the same motherfucking techno song with female vocals over and over and motherfucking over. there are like 10 of them, all different ages, and they each have their own part to the song - one dude busts out the chorus, one older dude loves the hook, and there's a certain 16 bars that one dude was jumping all over. i couldn't make this shit up if i tried.

the only good thing about this living situation is that the floor and walls and windows of my room are completely uninsulated, so all the weed they smoke drifts up and i'm blazed 24/7. if there's one way to handle slipping into a potentially brutal depression it's to catch a contact buzz of the Norteños downstairs, right?

i hate rommates

2010-05-17T09:14:00.001-07:00

if you had six containers of rotting food in your refrigerator and finally had the energy to clean them out, do you:

a. throw them away in the container and say fuck you environment, i'm not dealing with this

b. empty the food into the trashcan and leave it there to slowly gas everyone in the house

c. emtpy the food into the trashcan and take the trash bag immediately outside to the bin

d. what is this "taking the trash out" you speak of?

Those white men are dangerous.

2010-05-16T18:24:00.000-07:00

i went back east last week for my mom's wedding. i'm decidedly anti-wedding and would normally try to talk one out of it, but it all happened so fast and i didn't even have a chance to tell my mom what i thought. i stayed up with my Nona the night before the wedding, and she told me how worried she was as she pinned her curls with her ivory hands and carefully placed her sleeping hairnet on. (if you have an italian grandmother you know exactly what i'm talking about.) Nona is 100% psychic. she has a thing called her Ticker Tape that runs in front of her eyes when something important is about to happen - she reads the Ticker Tape and takes action even if it seems to make no sense at the time. so she tells me that there is something off about this wedding and she doesn't support it. she's waiting for the other shoe to drop, she says. i completely agree, but what can we do? she says we should stand up right after they say the "or forever hold your peace" part. i say my mom will be crushed. we decide that ultimately, you can't tell anyone anything ever, and we keep our mouths shut. i think it's going to end badly.

but honestly maybe it will work. the man is JUST like my mother. they annoy me in the exact same way and they live their lives the same - everything is an adventure. a fucking adventure that is painful for the rest of the world to experience. being stuck in the car with them is excruciating.

"Wow, another jaguar! (car)"
"wow honey, you have seen a lot of those lately"
"i know, you don't see those much"
"what is that, five you've seen now?"
"no, 7 or 8 because i saw a few yesterday too"
"oh yeah, wow, you did see a few yesterday"

OMG WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? THESE ARE NOT FUCKING UFOs OR JIMMY HOFFAS YOU ARE SEEING, THEY ARE FUCKING JAGS AND THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! MY BF'S MOM DRIVES ONE. HOW IS THIS INTERESTING AND WORTH TALKING ABOUT I'M GOING TO CLAW MY FACE OFF.

i love her SO much, don't get me wrong. but we could not be more different if we were different species or from different planets, seriously.

in other news, this is brutus. he was stolen from my roommate last week. there was a crazy ass leechy schemey bitch living in the room i live in now, and she had some shady ass fuckers visiting her from LA and brooklyn. it's a long story as to how he was stolen, but put some good energy out that we get him back.

and finally, here's some wise advice from SF craigstlist:

Re: White men are evil in relationships (excelsior / outer mission)

YES, they're good for inventing things but they're horrible partners in relationships. Be careful!!!! Those white men are dangerous.

i couldn't agree more.

EDIT for annie:

this is the best pic of the dress i could find, mad blurry, sorry.

i want to make it tight at the bottom like this. thoughts?

and these are the shoes oh jesus i love these fucking things. thank you celine for making a platform that doesn't look like a stripper shoe or a 70s abomination.

you's a fool

2010-05-06T08:36:00.001-07:00

you gave us cereal...in an ashtray

2010-04-29T13:04:00.000-07:00

someday i will learn that if you put the kettle on the stove and walk away for an hour it will burn and possibly catch on fire. but today is not that day.

i want to capture snookie and give her restylane in her top lip. everything else is fake, why not the top lip? i guarantee she would look 100% better with a lil half CC of hyaluranic up in there.

(i also want to soak those fucking french tips right off. FUCK a french manicure.)

so the radio silence is over for now. i have good days and bad days. this, kids, is what we call an Emotional Rollercoaster. please strap yourself in because this bitch goes super fast and super high and super low. flying out of the EmoRo (like how i made that up off the top of my head? FUCK yeaaah) is the only thing worse that actually being on it. at least when you stay on the damn thing you eventually get to the end. when you fly off, you're totally fucked.

i'm going on total radio silence for a while.

2010-04-13T18:59:00.000-07:00

past, present, future.

only one really exists, and yet lately i spend so much time thinking about the two that don't. recently i've been living everywhere in my head but right now. thinking about how things were, how they will never be(?), how they could be, how i want them to be. it's all bullshit. stories. tangents that are nothing but electricity in my brain. the only thing that is real are actions, and i need to spend less time thinking and more time doing.

live right now, that's all there is.

2010-04-09T14:11:00.000-07:00

this is exactly how i feel about fucking marriage. liz taylor knows what's up.

and also, the only thing surprising about the Garcelle Beauvais-Nilon thing is that she is MARRIED TO THIS FUCKING GUY. really? REALLY? this guy? this dude must have fucking game for daaaaaaaays.

the past does not exist.

2010-04-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

today i am getting a pedicure, going tanning, wearing a tracksuit and a wifebeater with no bra, getting a new blackberry and getting tore up.

fuuuuuuuuuuck it.

i am a fortunate homosexual man

2010-04-07T08:01:00.000-07:00

fucking OF COURSE you are. the people who were surprised that ricky martin is gay are the same idiots who were shocked by the kate moss coke scandal. (i mean they are same same ones that even thought that was a scandal. come on ya'll, she's dating the grossest drug addict of the century and she's a fucking model. it would be news if she wasn't a cokehead.)

you all know my feelings on kanye west, but i have to say, nothing has made more sense lately than this song.

he may be a whiny narcissistic diva, but he hit that motherfuckin nail on the head with this joint. "i can't keep myself and still keep you too." say word.

and it wouldn't be right to end this without a photobooth pic because apparently that's how i roll.

also, did you guys know i had this?

i think i need some tylenol you got me restless

2010-03-27T17:10:00.000-07:00

i got a chemical peel the other day, and the aesthetician (sp???) said she had to wait for a super important phone call and would i mind if she kept her phone on vibrate? i said no problem but doubted that anything she had to hear was that important. how long is a chemical peel? an hour? can't wait an hour, huh? fine. she said it was concerning some test results, which made me kind of interested from a completely voyeuristic (i can spell voyeuristic but not aesthetician? wtf?) standpoint, which in turn made it easier to not be annoyed that she was leaving her phone on. so she's scrubbing lactic acid into my neck and breathing softly on my face when her phone goes off and she grabs it and keeps scrubbing away. i can hear someone talking to her but no details - details! i need details! suddenly she's super excited and says "Oh my GOD THANK you!" and they keep talking all happily and it turns out she doesn't have cancer. she beat breast cancer once and it's not back AND she doesn't have the Braca gene so her daughter can worry a little less about getting cancer. wow. interesting to be involved in someone getting the best news of her life.

in other news, biggie smalls has a serious stomach virus and i'm up and down the stairs every five minutes so he doesn't shit all over the reclaimed barnwood office floor.

also i am in the worst shape of my life and have NO FUCKING ASS. i need to get my fitness game tightened up.

that is all.

uhhhh

2010-03-25T10:42:00.001-07:00

WOAH

women lie men lie

2010-03-23T10:26:00.000-07:00

this mystical city is actually san francisco and in all my years of flying into and out of it, i've never noticed the giant mountains rising from the mist back there. they must be new.

so far all i've managed to do today is take photobooth pictures and avoid doing any actual work. i had a full on panic attack yesterday and if i want to chill out and do not a damn thing all day i will. have you had an actual panic attack? no fucking bueno.

i immediately called to get refill on the x script, and then had to go to battle with my (woman) dr. Women either love me or hate me, and women doctors hate me every single time. it's insane. quit trying to be my fucking mother, write me the script for the one thing that makes my life bearable, take your kickback from Pfizer, and call it a day homegirl. yes, i know that people abuse this substance. i am not one of them. you want to meet an addict come through and meet my unemployed roommate who sits in his room all day eating tramadol and playing xbox.

biggie obviously adores taking photobooth pics with me. can't you feel the LOVE?

omg enough already. i promise i'll be back tomorrow with some actual fucking things that are interesting to read. xo.

2010-03-22T17:06:00.000-07:00

do ya'll like how my blog is now just a bunch of photobooth pics of me at work? i know! me TOO! it's just that my actual life is too insane to write about. i'm back to censoring myself even on this totally anonymous blog that was started because i was sick of censoring myself. way to work out the logic, la dick.

so i ended up in the hospital this weekend, that was super fun. driving yourself to the hospital might be the loneliest thing ever. actually, no, driving yourself to an abortion clinic is probably worse holy shit now i'm sad thinking about that. fuck. anyway, i have a crazy pinched nerve in my back and it went nutso crazypants on me, and i had an allergic reaction to the medication i take for it that i've been taking for almost ten years. go figure. they gave me percocet and flexeril. awesome. having drugs is better than no drugs.

i just brought the absolute HEAT in an email to some douche bag clients that don't understand that if you change the scope of a project, you change the cost of the project. they are the same clients i wrote this about. they honestly had the nerve to say that they aren't a big corporation so they shouldn't have to pay for changes. don't hire a major design firm if you can't pay for it. would you tell your landlord that you can't pay your rent because you don't make enough money? no, you would not. you wouldn't rent the apartment in the first place. don't enter into agreements that you can't pay for. end of story.

yes, yes i do drink crystal light and skyy vodka at work. is it that obvious? oh, it was the giant red fratboy cup that gave it away? huh. don't worry, my boss knows. (i'm my boss.) (this post sucks.)

hahahahahahahahah fuck i had to post this photo even though it might be the most embarrassing pic of me EVER TAKEN. i was wondering if you wanted me to seduce you...it would look like this. are you IN? i thought so.

also, do you all read highwaisted? because you should. she is basically me, but canadian. and you guys like me, right????? great, then it's settled.

(this is where the most boring post of all time ends. riiiiiight HERE

happy bday darling!

2010-03-17T17:37:00.001-07:00

you are the ONLY thing i like about St. Patrick's Day 2010.

2010-03-15T18:44:00.000-07:00

is it possible to get computer poisoning? if so i definitely have it.

werkin

2010-03-12T16:17:00.000-08:00

I AM

ON A

VERY IMPORTANT

PHONE CALL.

i was in SF again.

2010-03-11T14:32:00.000-08:00

rollin in the nanny benz. (inside joke that no one who reads this blog will ever get.) (sorry, how boring.)

motherfucking BRUTUS! he is the most adorable thing of all time. that's really all there is to say about that.

smoked mad fucking weed, ate a ton of xanax, drank some wine, and kicked it in the kitchen with my homegirls. it was hailing, then raining, then sunny, then it got dark and we were too high to pay attention to the weather. the apartment was cold as fuck so we opened the oven and sat around it at the kitchen table. smokin. hood shit. came up with this nail joint - we call it The Patience, because sitting still for an hour while the dot dries is an excercise in self control if there ever was one. that is not how you spell excersise. neither is that. how the fuck do you spell that word. exercise. there it is. i hate kanye west and i hate the flashing lights song, but pandora killed it with the flashing lights radio that night. never been a more appropriate time for lil wayne, TI, dilated peoples, timbaland's production. ahhhhhhh fuck yeah.

i've been thinking lately about how much in general people base their own happiness on the energy and reactions they get from others in their lives, rather than just doing what makes them happy and seeing how that works out. i really hate it when i'm in a relationship and the dude i'm with is clearly basing his actions on how we are doing in the relationship. just be yourself and do your thing and we'll have no problems at all. or is that weird and heartless?

recovery red cup combo of the day: emergen-c, absolut, hailstorm, giant umbrella, black hoodie, (all day errryday,) ysl sunglasses (all day errryday) 24th and valencia street corner store.

write down what you REALLY want out of life. put it on paper. then work backwards and see what you need to do to make it happen. sometimes just seeing it on paper makes you realize you don't actually want it at all. sometimes it makes you realize how fucking much you want it. NEED it. sometimes you have no idea what the fuck to put on the paper. hello, my life.

2010-03-09T10:34:00.000-08:00

RIP, KING OF NEW YORK

WHATTTTT???

2010-03-06T19:21:00.000-08:00

do ya'll KNOW about this???

what you know about mind sex?

2010-03-03T15:10:00.000-08:00

my parents divorced when i was young, and my dad has been married four times (don't get me wrong, each time he was hoping she was the "one," but he wasn't willing to settle and be unhappy once he realized that things weren't working and never would.) i'm assuming that has been a huge subconscious influence on me, but honestly i actively discovered the fact that humans are not monogamous on my own.

in college i had the epiphany that no matter what i wanted, or how i tried to control a situation, the other person involved was going to do WHATEVER THE FUCK they wanted. bottom line. we all just do what we want and it's easier to come to terms with that fact and let go of jealousy, neediness, and control. when i made the conscious decision to just LET GO of everything and do what makes me happy, it was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes and i felt a thousand pounds lighter. i wish everyone could let go like this; we'd all be so much happier.

the flipside to this is that when i date guys they end up thinking i'm a detached ice queen with no feelings. i have feelings! i have a huge heart that i want to share! i just don't have the negative poisonous cancerous feelings that make me and the dude feel miserable. so i guess it's a catch 22, you either get to seem like a guarded bitch who doesn't care about anything, or you can be unhappy. i choose guarded bitch, because someday i will find someone who understands that completely.

and i definitely think that coming from a home with happily married parents skews one's opinion toward the till-death type of relationship. but i think honestly, if we are REALLY HONEST with ourselves, even happily married people have their secrets.

thanks to my soul sister highwaisted for the conversation.

the world is insane.

2010-03-02T09:56:00.000-08:00

i've been a little blown away by relationships lately. is anyone telling the truth to anyone about anything anywhere? i haven't been part of any personal lying, and haven't done any personal lying, but it seems that everywhere i look, things are not what they seem. every married couple around me is secretly unhappy. every song i hear is about cheating, broken hearts, lost love, new exciting love, secret undercover love, and of course being crazy in love. bitches are jealous because their men ARE cheating. men are suspicious because their women ARE giving the sexy side eye to other dudes. i guess the thing that makes no sense to me is the fact that true human nature seems to be non-monogamous. humans can only learn so much from one person. things change, feelings change, energy dies, things wither. there is nothing wrong with this. yet our society only accepts the concept of the monogamous pair bond until death do us part, and if you choose to leave someone you are considered the bad guy. WHY is the heartbreaker considered the asshole? why is it bad to want to be happy, to refuse to accept the status quo? why is it considered more noble to tough it out with someone you hate or are completely bored or unfulfilled by than to leave and explore something new? is it religion's fault? is it human nature to want to be free but also to be possessive?

sorry guys, i'm just looking at some things around me and my mind is blown. it just seems so counter intuitive to me that we refuse to embrace the fact that people are fundamentally drawn to more than one person. thoughts?

sometimes i feel like i'm going to explode

2010-02-21T02:48:00.000-08:00

I'm part of too many things. my mind is in too many places, places i've been and places i currently am. Part of the seedy meth smoking SF underground, part of the professional snowboard dream, part of a quiet but entrancing ski town, part of hip hop, part of the DC rave scene, part of a well known canadian oil family, part of a puerto rican gang, part of a domino playing drug enterprise, part of a hippie commune, part of a zen buddhist family, part of a rich dysfunctional irish catholic family, part of an elegant italian family that talks about the Old Country and the Evil Eye, part of plastic scottsdale bullshit, part of the complacent northern virginia suburbs, part of the new york city fashion industry, and part of a hard working east coast family with a harley riding dad and a mom who abandoned ship to pursue her masters degree. Sometimes I don't know what to follow and sometimes I don't know what state I'm in. Sometimes it's true that I want to shut it all out. Sometimes it's true that I believe life is what you make it. Maybe a person can only take so many lives in one lifetime.

2010-02-18T10:02:00.000-08:00

i'm 99.9% sure i just survived SARS. More later.

2010-02-04T09:48:00.000-08:00

the grammys...yawn...

2010-02-02T16:00:00.000-08:00

remember when this was riske?

that's more fabric than lady gaga has ever had on her body at one time. and speaking of lada gaga, i say NO to her first dress and okay, fine, to her second. the tube dress is just ridiculous and reminds me of an old episode of Dr. Who. But it's the fucking yellow hair that really gets me. HELLZ NO. gross. and the pink trannystick and dark eyes do not belong together. one or the other, please. the weird spiky accessory is fine with me. it looks interesting in the photos and you can always spike kanye with it if he gets too close to your mike while you're onstage, so i'm down.

and what's up with beyonce and the ice skater mermaid dresses at every fucking occasion (you can be a shorty in my ill convoy: step up, hova)? it's been years, beyonce. get a new look.

i know this is a lot of shit talking. hooray for everyone and their own form of self expression.

2010-01-31T10:04:00.000-08:00

so friday night i went out with my homegirl to a trashy dive bar. i don't know why we chose this particular joint. there's a stripper pole on top of a pool table and the trashy bitches there mob it and grind all over it and each other like 16 year old prositutes at a Rosarita whorehouse (i ended up in one of those once, i know what i'm talking about.) (it was not on purpose.)

anyway so then i'm dancing with/next to/no actual contact some young dude with good style but no real game, and his trashy stripper pole grinding ex girlfriend jumps off the pool table and comes up and pushes me out of the way and tells this dude they "need to talk, right now, this is bullshit" so they go outside and all of a sudden there's a huge commotion and the bitch is running to his car to smash his windows in and all her trashy girls are running behind her with muffin tops bouncing in the streetlights and he runs after them to protect his car and his friends are laughing hysterically and i'm wondering why the fuck i even leave the house.

he comes back inside to tell me what went down and i say hold on, i'll be right back, and go home. drama is the last thing i'm into right now.

the next day i woke up with crazy hangover anxiety even though i wasn't drunk. i took a xanax, emergen-C, ionic fizz, ibuprofen and pineapple juice cocktail and went back to bed. why is it that four drinks make me totally worthless the next day?

i didn't leave the bed ALL DAY, except for my 12:30 nail appointment and to take biggie smalls outside. it honestly felt so damn good to just chill and watch CSI (las vegas, duh) episodes online and ignore the phone. i did turn down a sex toy party which would have probably been hilarious and interesting, but that's really not my style anyway, especially when i'm too anxious to even have a conversation with my closest friends. i can't imagine a more awkward situation actually, full on anxiety retardation while trying to socialize with strangers and vibrators? NAGL.

so that's my weekend. how was yours?

FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL

2010-01-29T12:48:00.000-08:00

you can give a bitch $500K a year in alimony but you can't buy her class.

i am a huge fan of fashion risk takers.

despite my best efforts i love lindsay's leggings-as-pants wearing ass. i heart rihanna and every pointy neon nail and rooster hair she's ever rocked. i love lady gaga and her crazy latex and Alexander McQueen outfits...wait a minute! latex and AMcQ shoes? didn't we see this already? we did! it was in the ENTIRE bad romance video. funny how kelis talks so much shit about bitches swagger jacking her shit, when in reality she's a camel toe having knock off of an entire video. she needs to leave the fashion risk taking to the experts and work on defrosting her animal hating heart.

i want i want i want

2010-01-28T18:41:00.000-08:00

awwwww i love this. although mine should say 1mg. or at least 0.5. thanks to the HBIC chloe!

awww

2010-01-28T11:30:00.001-08:00

ice and coco forevs!!!
pic via coco's twitter @cocosworld

2010-01-25T20:34:00.001-08:00

hello xanax hello nail polish hello bang cutting hello haze hello nosejob someday? probably not.

YES!!!

2010-01-25T15:31:00.001-08:00

finally! i can only go so long without this shit.

meatball or sausage? and pick up all that shit. if you ever wondered who my ex-husbands mom was, here you go. (just switch up jersey for south boston.) (she really was great.) (until we broke up.)

michael lives!

2010-01-25T10:19:00.000-08:00

why, kim, why??? biggie is rolling in his grave right now, rest his soul.

shhhhh

2010-01-24T10:19:00.000-08:00

sometimes i worry that i'm actually retarded but no one has the heart to tell me.

when i was in grade school there was a mentally retarded girl that i always stood up for. people picked on her a lot and i always felt super bad. once i ran into her in the hallway - she got her period for the first time in class and the teacher sent her alone to the office. it always made me feel bad that no one even walked her down to the nurse...there she was in the hallway alone with a giant bloodstain on her jeans. i'll never forget it.

anyway, one time i was standing in a group of people who were sort of interrogating her the way that only mobs of schoolchildren can, and someone asked her if she knew she was retarded. she leaned in really close to the half circle of interrogators and said in a loud whisper "Yes, but SHH, i don't want anyone to know."

good lord did my heart break at that moment.

goosefoot.

2010-01-23T08:47:00.000-08:00

all day yesterday i was looking forward to finishing some work so i could smoke weed, take a xanax and watch "Up in the Air" under a blanket with my chihuahua.

(that's my hand. pre nails did obvs)

Then i found out that "Up in the Air" is some bitch ass romantic comedy and not the G rated CGI film i thought it was. turns out that movie is just called "Up". FML. sorry george, i'll take a computer animated dude in a balloon any day over your wrinkly-eyed smirk face.

and did you know that in Russia they call houndstooth "goosefoot"? awesome!

i just broke up with kelis.

2010-01-21T16:58:00.000-08:00

i just read this post on the lipstick diaries and i'm disgusted. i was always a kelis supporter. despite her best efforts to prove otherwise with wack ass songs like Milkshake, she actually has a gorgeous voice. but then THIS! (read the whole ignorant mess here)

PETA called her out for this heinous outfit which is a post of it's own:

by saying:

"We’ve been inundated with phone calls and emails from folks alerting us to photos of you wearing a fur hat and coat while out in London over the weekend. Please know that animals killed for their fur endure immense suffering. Foxes, minks, coyotes, and rabbits - and even dogs and cats - are bludgeoned, strangled, genitally electrocuted, and even skinned alive for their pelts.
“If you enjoy the look of fur, renowned designers, including Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, Stella MCCartney, and Vivienne Westwood, couple fashion with compassion and use only faux fur in their lines. We hope you found this information helpful and will join countless celebrities, like Charlize Theron, Khloe Kardashian, Pink and Michelle Obama, in publicly swearing off fur."

kelis responds:

"Btw it’s not just the look of fur. It’s warm as hell and feels glorious, ever rubbed faux fur on your body? Nothing luxurious about that. Then the letter proceeded to name artist and designers who don’t wear real fur. Great! More for me! I don’t judge them, don’t judge me. If I started wearing endangered animals like polar bear or orangutan then talk to me. (Which btw for the record I would not - I do believe in the preservation of endangered species) But the minks and chinchilla that quite honestly are rodents and if weren’t in the form of a coat I would demand they be put to death anyway are not an issue to me."

what a common, ignorant, heartless bitch. i take it all back. i truly think that people who don't have compassion for animals are the lowest of the low. let her visit a fur factory and see how luxurious she feels rubbing fur on her bare skin after she sees an animal skinned alive.

feeling this today

2010-01-16T20:12:00.001-08:00

not a big gwen stefani fan - at least not a fan of her music. she has sick personal style and i can't be mad at l.a.m.b. shoes, so i guess i'm sort of a fan.

anyway, for some reason this video was in my head tonight. i have been feeling the deep blood red nails lately, might need to be the next hook up! i would love to rock them bangerz that long but there's no way i could type, design, text, etc., so i'm keeping mines shorter. we all make sacrifices, right?

who the fuck is this bitch?

2010-01-16T17:24:00.000-08:00

oh no one, just proof that with enough time, money, and plastic surgery addiction, anyone can surprise you with their ability to look good.

(just fyi)

honestly though, i don't know why i'm being such a hater. everyone wants to be beautiful, right? i guess i really can't talk shit on plastic surgery if it makes someone feel better about themselves. and if i didn't know what she looked like before, i'd be like daaamn, this girl is hot! so why would i talk shit once i found out she wasn't 100% real? sorry, stephi pratt, my bad. you look great. i guess my main point is that ANYone can look great w/ enough time, money, and assistance, so we shouldn't be so quick to judge ourselves against others who may have more time, money and assistance than we do. (and it doesn't hurt to just love ourselves the way we are, either.) (apparently this is a motivational blog now.) (that is all.)

WWWTTTFFFFFF??????

2010-01-16T14:50:00.000-08:00

OH HELLZ NO.

NAILS DID!

2010-01-09T15:26:00.000-08:00

i'm back in nyc and of course the first thing i had to do was hook up the nails. i'll post pics when i have a chance to take some. i wanted to go super long and the nail tech wouldn't let me. i asked her to use tips and she said no. she straight shut me down. then i asked her to go longer as she was shaping them and she said "no, this better". i just let her do her thing after that. i get a little intimidated by nail salons. i'm great under stress, i never panic in crazy situations, can hold my own on a subway platform at 4am, etc., etc., but get me in a nail salon and i'll basically back down and do whatever the nail tech tells me.

in other news, i emailed this to myself at some point last year, just found it while looking for an old email in an account i never use. i think there's a combination of drugs involved in this one.

"Is it just me or are cars kind of a trippy concept? Little moving rooms that we drive arund usung variuous wheels, pedals, and controls that other people invented and new people expand upon and make better. And spend millions of dollars refining because we need them to be safer since we smash them into each other, drive them around hammered, and place our children in them while trusting other small room drivers to follow the rules."

good work, la dick. put that mind to use exploring the concepts around you.

(don't call it frisco)

yesterday i was in san francisco for about 16 hours and got to see my fav homegirl robin, fuck up some indian food (nyc can't front on the indian in sf), and smoke a cigarette or two (yes, gross, i know.)

the last time i was in san francisco was a few months ago to help my friend get off crystal meth, which i keep meaning to write about because it turned into an ugly friendship killing fiasco. the bottom line is, if you aren't ready to help yourself, don't ask me to help you change your life. i'm not sure if we will ever be friends again. i feel like i survived a war with that bitch and it will be hard to leave my war buddy behind, but 2010 is all about positivity and i don't have time for negative meth fueled bullshit.

this month i have also been to montana for my dad's 60th birthday and snowboarded at yellowstone club, a private ski resort that makes me want to sell my soul the devil to afford a membership to, because there's nothing like being on a perfectly groomed run at 3 in the afternoon with sun beating on your face and no gaping tourist making typewriter turns across your line. but more about that later.

things are good, all in all. hello 2010.

2009-12-20T00:03:00.001-08:00

do you ever go to a party and be super psyched because you're with your homegirls and you all look fly but you had to put some time into it but then after you are feeling great and having a great time someone shows up at the joint that looks EXACTLY like you WISH you looked and actually you DO look just like but only in your head and there's no chance of looking like them because your eyes are too small and your nose is too big and also your ethnicity is totally completely wrong basically?

but then you start to hang out and even thought the totally fine person you wish you looked like also has the singing voice you wish you had while they tear it up at guitar hero you start to realize that the person is only cool at first and then ultimately is super annoying because the perfect looks got them so god damned far in the ol game of life that they have the uber confidence that comes from never getting humbled because they have hot sexy looks but no actual game and no actual SUBSTANCE and then you are secretly happy at the end of the night when you realize that you would rather be yourself than anyone else because the only thing the person you wish you looked like has to say is that your hair is seriously awesome and that they need more red wine and that they basically just need attention no matter where it comes from or else POOF! DISAPPEARANCE.

yeah, me too.

2009-12-19T13:01:00.000-08:00

i just ripped this from Highwaisted's blog. i'm not trying to bite your style girl! i just had to repost because this is real hip hop and it need to be spread around as much as possible.

this shit makes me even more depressed about the current state of hip hop.

if you tried to get that many MCs on stage today there'd be nothing to see but a grip of blood diamonds on chains and wack rhymes about drugs and guns.

fucking EXACTLY

2009-12-12T21:58:00.000-08:00

Producing the gems

By gochrisuniverse | Published: 09/12/2009

[23:23] gochrisuniverse: i wish i talked to more people
[23:23] gochrisuniverse: well, no
[23:23] gochrisuniverse: there are people i could talk to
[23:23] gochrisuniverse: but they wouldn’t produce the gems
[23:25] tinainreallife: On average, people don’t say much that’s interesting.
[23:26] tinainreallife: There’s a rare group of people that just get it. And I’m not even talking about getting it.
[23:26] tinainreallife: I’m talking about the most basic level of getting it.
[23:26] tinainreallife: Which separates interesting people from everyone else.
[23:26] tinainreallife: Then there’s the cream of the crop.

I HEART YOU SO HARD.

i just got in a disagreement with someone tonight about how i'm a "bitch" because i don't go out of my way to force friendships with people i don't find interesting. i'm not a bitch. i'm just bored by most people because they are boring. you either have that spark and i find you intriguing, or not. i don't think there's anything wrong with that.

then i randomly read this a few minutes after the argument and felt totally justified. i think i even used the exact line "people don't say much that's interesting". Halleluja, sister.

dear arab parrot

2009-12-12T16:36:00.001-08:00

move back to nyc where you don't need a car and no one gives a fuck if you jaywalk.

xo

la dick

dear facebook ads,

2009-12-10T18:05:00.000-08:00

please try to step up your game. adidas have THREE stripes.

i'm just going to say it.

2009-12-10T13:34:00.000-08:00

i fucking hate the movie A Christmas Story. clown me all you want, but i think that movie is more depressing than Sofie's Choice and more annoying than Caddyshack. Yes, i also hate the movie Caddyshack. Can we still be friends?

it must be soooo hard!

2009-12-04T08:59:00.000-08:00

i recently wrote that lady gaga was somehow growing on me. i take it all back.

"I get all the symptoms of a pregnant woman," the 23-year-old star said. "I get headaches, I get tired, I get blurred vision sometimes during a really intense session with [design collective] the Haus [of Gaga]."

first of all, wow, how hard it must be to shoulder all that fame. i mean seriously, you don't even ask for the attention and it's just all poured on you for no reason!

secondly, there's a fucking Haus of GAGA coming? FUCK YOU. another one on the fucking Celebrity Clothing Line Bandwagon.

having money, interesting personal style, and celebrity do not give you automatic permission to start a clothing line. there are two key elements missing from the above list - the most important elements of all - and they are talent and training as a designer. Having an "intense session" with the people you hired to create your line is not the same thing as being a passionate and on point designer. you can put together a great (or bizarre, or whatever) outfit and sing and be a characature and be super charismatic and slightly mysterious all day all night, but for the love of god, do not think it grants you the right to turn out a painful and pretentious clothing line based only on the merit of your celebrity status. we'll leave the crazy famewhoring and pants-less outfits to you and your great (for a white girl) ass, if you promise to leave the designing to us, the people intensely passionate about expressing ourselves through our design so that you, the celebrity, can use our clothing to express yourself. see? it's a give give situation. don't get it twisted.

and really? REALLY? you get headaches after an INTENSE SESSION? please. it's designing clothing, not shock therapy.

***UPDATE (writers embarrassed note):

okay, sorry.

i just googled haus of gaga and found out that it is not a clothing line after all. it's actually the name for the team of designers who design and create all her clothing for tours and videos. and apparently they look at lada gaga "like a mother and daughter and sister, with pride and love," which you really can't hate on.

i truly apologize for my crazy diatribe and would like to instead have you read the above post but with your choice of Beyonce, Eminem, Snoop Dogg, Jessica Simpson, Paris Hilton, Nicky Hilton, or Jennifer Lopez in place of Lady Gaga. DO NOT add gwen stefani because L.A.M.B. shoes are dope as hell, and don't add Andre 3000 because he can do whatever he damn well pleases. Thanks for your time.

xo

la dick

just sayin...

2009-12-03T12:01:00.001-08:00

leave tiger aloooonnnne!

2009-12-02T09:19:00.001-08:00

my fast starts on Friday night. i have a three hour class on friday evening (where a "delicious liquefied raw soup" will be served. uhhh oxy moron much? okay okay just kidding, i like gazpacho as much as the next guido.) anyway, i've been reading through the Fasting Manual and as well as taking 30 different supplements and 15 juice drinks a day, i'm also supposed to fast from the media. interesting. honestly i feel just as toxic from reading dlisted as i do from all the ecstasy i ate and coke i railed in the 90s. okay, fine, the 90's and early 2000's. reading about celebrity gossip and doing drugs are basically the same in my book - fun but toxic for your insides.

so starting friday night i will be fasting from dlisted and the news, and "feasting on love, air, sunshine, and positivity." no, seriously.

but before my media fast i just have to say one thing about tiger woods. here it is:

WHO GIVES A FUUUUUUUCCKKKKKKK?

leave the man alone. it's none of our business if tiger's hustle is to hook up with hot cocktail waitresses coast to coast. it's none of our business if his wife attacked him with a golf club or if Tiger is about make it rain on Tiffany's. (I see a Kobe Special in the near future.) (i think kobe is innocent, btw.) there are literally a million other things that are more important than tiger woods having an affair, and that's just in NYC alone. enough already.

and tiger, seriously, "transgressions"? DENY DENY DENY. Who is your PR agent and how to i replace him? this all could have gone away if you hadn't admitted a transgression. goodbye nike.

oh jesus

2009-11-30T16:10:00.000-08:00

i just signed up for a 7 day juice fast and cleanse. i'm tripping just slightly after hearing about the things that come out of people during this thing. for example live parasites and crayons. yes, i said live parasites that could be seen moving in the toilet and crayons that people swallowed as children. good lord. i'll keep you posted.

oh and colonics are involved. they good news is that they offer private colonic rooms where you manage things yourself. there's no way i'm letting a stranger put a hose up my ass. the bad news is that there's still going to be a hose up my ass.

damn. let the healing begin.

thank god for the Three Revision Or We Charge You Extra policy

2009-11-30T08:39:00.000-08:00

Dear Clients,

i know it seems crazy, but the best way to get a product designed exactly the way you want it is to GIVE SPECIFIC FEEDBACK.

some examples of non-helpful non-specific feedback are:

"we had a meeting and everyone agreed that the snowflakes should be more, i don't know, snowflakey?"

and

"this is close but it needs something, like, different. i can't put my finger on it."

and

"we want skulls, punk rock, young, sexy, modern, edgy." so you deliver these things and get "this is great but we don't want skulls in it. and it's too young. and we want edgy - like this - but not so edgy and young."

OH THANKS YOU ARE SO HELPFUL. i'll just continue to stab around in the dark until i hit something you can put your finger on.

and i've been on hold with adobe for 40 fucking minutes and this is really eating into my minutes.

and nice laundry pile.

*update* thanks to highwaisted the badass bitch for this video! fucking EXACTLY:

2009-11-28T15:35:00.000-08:00

sadly missing mexico. missing the sun the beach the tequila the open air outside bathroom big enough to actually move around in. goodbye brown skin, hello winter coat. tear.

ELB

2009-11-28T09:01:00.000-08:00

my ex is buying the car from me. i bought it for him because he was too pussy to work in NYC and he needed it to drive around jersey to his job. don't ask me why he was too intimidated to work as a assistant manager in a major restaurant chain in nyc. he was afraid of everything, including teeth brushing, sobriety, paying bills, telling the truth, and new york city.

anyway, now i'm going through the painful process of selling the car to him. actually, to his father, since his credit is too bad to even GET A FUCKING LOAN FOR A CAR. sorry for yelling. but what a fucking loser. what was i thinking?

he tells me he can't afford to help me pay the bills he walked away from (electricity, gas, insurance, amex, visa...literally thousands of dollars.) and that he "shouldn't have to" pay for that stuff (read: i'm a spoiled, selfish, Entitled Little Bitch who has never had to take care of a single responsibility in my entire life including a 7 year old illegitimate child oops did i say that out loud please god if you exist let his mother read this) yet didn't get any of the paperwork to his father's credit union in time for the payoff quote to still be active because he was on vacation in mexico. ON VACATION IN MEXICO. but too poor to pay for a single dollar of the thousands he walked away from. and this is not his only recent vacation - he also went to Germany a few months ago. you know, just a little trip around germany, no big deal. it certainly doesn't take any extra money to take a fucking trip to germany.

how the fuck are you going to tell me you can't afford to pay for shit but then tell me i have to send new paperwork for the car buyout because you missed the deadline due to A VACATION IN MEXICO?

jesus fuck am i pissed. fuck you, ELB.

that is all.

i hope the adorable sea turtle photos from happier days helped take the edge off the bitching. i'll post more later. sorry for losing my temper but it's either this or i go stanley kubrick style on this motherfucker.

dear mexican car rental company,

2009-11-20T08:24:00.000-08:00

i knew you would probably try to rip me off. you are a mexican car rental company, after all. it's in your nature. but when the check engine light came on today and we jacked the car up to look at the undercarriage, i certainly didn't expect to see a ghetto patchwork of epoxy and plasticina holding the transmission case and oil pan together. i also didn't expect to see that the front tire was about to blow out at any moment due to it being completely bald with metal threads fraying from around a forming giant hole.

you could say i'm a little disappointed in you. i was hoping, at the very least, that i would get a car that was safe to drive and you'd try to rip me off by saying that i fucked it up somehow. instead, i got a fucking patchwork deathtrap that i now have to pay to exchange.

get ready for the AMEX and USAA battle of your lifetime, dear mexican alamo car rental company.

best wishes,

la dick

good lord mexico, i love you.

2009-11-18T09:58:00.000-08:00

first day i've washed my hair since we got here. in the US that = DIRTOCHIO. in mexico, it just means that i had a vicious italiafro with the added excitement of dreadlocks. hair washing is highly overrated anyway and i only do it about once every four or five days as it is.

aaahhahahahahghghghgh i just ran outside JUST NOW because people were yelling and there was a pod of massive adorable dolphins frolicking in the ocean outside the house. so amazing. no words.

i'm feeling a little sad and weak today. last night we went for dinner at the yoga retreat up the street. it's basically a tripped out wonderland of beautiful young ex-pats high on mota at a five star resort. they have an american bulldog puppy named Bodhi (of COURSE they do) and little paths and bridges and palm tree islands all lit up leading out to a deck overlooking the ocean where they were playing Walk the Line with spanish subtitles. Idyllic much?

i had raw coconut pad thai which was off the hook but at 230 pesos it was a little more than the 40 peso tacos we usually get from Jannet up the street. (ya-neh).

walk the line made me sad. i cried during part, not sure which part or why i was crying, really. i don't cry usually. i could decide if i was pissed at walk the line or jealous of june and johnny's story or what the deal was, but when you are sitting at a gorgeous ocean retreat watching a movie overlooking the ocean, you should probably have a good reason to be crying.

being in love with an addict was a little glorified in walk the line. (of course it was.) it is not glorious. it is not heartwrenchingly beautiful. it is disgusting, horrible, sickening, annoying. love does not conquer all. being in love with an addict is cleaning puke off the walls on a tuesday afternoon and being the scapegoat for everything that is wrong. it's being a mother to a grown man you are also supposed to have sex with which makes your love life either 0% happening or totally incestuous. addicts by definition are narcissistic and needy, and loving one is exhausting because they often have no love for themselves. or at least no self respect. (and i'm speaking from my personal experience, not making generalizations.)

but at the same time, there is something so desirable about the doglike loyalty of june and johnny. it makes me LONG for that kind of love and also makes me scared that i'm too independent to actually give it - or, even harder, receive it. i don't like to depend on my partner. i don't like my man to need me. it makes me feel smothered and annoyed and i start to pull away. love doesn't have to equal NEED, does it? i always feel that once i get past a certain level of closeness with a dude, i stop desiring to be around him. it turns out that my favorite part of a relationship is when i am independently being me, and the lover is independently being him, and there's still some distance between us. once we become a "unit" and begin operating together, i freak out. i don't like it. and time and time again i forget how much i dislike it, and end up getting close to someone, hurting them, and breaking free to run away and feel like myself again.

in other news, this week i have seen dolphins jumping out of the ocean, driven through a tarantula covered guava plantation to get around a fallen powerline in the road which won't be fixed until the mexican government can get some dudes out to fix it (will be never), taken a horseback ride on the beach and conquered my fear of horses, surfed at La Salidita and got totally humbled by the gorgeous ocean, seen sea turtle nests and eggs, rescued approximately 47 crabs from the pool, and eaten more tacos than in all my life put together. this evening i will do "restorative yoga" (it's "really chill, so awesome" says CJ, the gorgeous yoga instructor with the puppy) on a wooden platform overlooking the beach. not so bad.

and mexican salt is fantastic.

the end.

i'm in troncones bitch

2009-11-14T07:29:00.000-08:00

mexico is fucking great. we are in a tiny village with no tourists and my view from the bedroom is a vast expanse of crashing green pacific waves. the atlantic can STEP. brown cold waves, jersey douchbags, and creepy jelly fish? no me gusto.

also, i should have told you all to buy stock in hornitos before i left. dear lord, send me to rehab.

travel necessities. missing: xanax, stephen marley, and method man.

recording the important details of the flight. captain's log, stardate cheeziest joke attempt ever.

airport underwear. fucking gross. dudes respond to gross marketing i guess.

i recorded a video for ya'll but the connection here is so slow that i will be back in the states before it finishes uploading. we are off to buy more tequila, i'll be back later to upload the greatest drunken ninja photo shoot of all time. hasta luego, vaqueros.

xx

stand up and rise

2009-11-09T22:02:00.000-08:00

2009-11-07T17:27:00.000-08:00

so i just hooked up the mobile blogging on my blackberry so i could make my bitchy comments and social commentaries on the go, but for some reason none of the drunken posts i emailed to blogger last night actually appeared on the blog. which is probably a good thing since most of them were things like "you know times is tough when you are begging for some T-Pain."

a warning.

2009-11-06T17:53:00.001-08:00

ladies: if you are having a shower and halfway through you run out of your normal dr. bronners baby soap but still need to wash parts of your body including most importantly your vajay, do not substitute your Jason Organics Tea Tree Oil shampoo and think everything will be okay because soap and shampoo are basically the same thing. they are not the same thing. Fire Crotch no longer just means Lindsay Lohan.

biggie smalls is the illest

2009-11-06T10:11:00.000-08:00

don't fuck with biggie when a rotten apple he found outside is involved.

this gave me the major sads

2009-11-05T20:12:00.001-08:00

the goddess is a woman...
any woman...
every woman.

Dating Montage
Uploaded by smithy00101. - Arts and animation videos.

no fatties.

fire breathing dragons

the quote possibilites are so endless i don't even know where to start.

fucking DUH

2009-11-04T12:37:00.001-08:00

(click picture to see larger methface)

dear adderall,

you are a super fun thing to do once in a while since alcohol is boring, coke is pointless and frustrating, and xanax is for sleepytime and hangovers, but you seriously fucked up lindsay's face. she used to be pretty hot, but the meth grimace is getting old. please break up with her.

your faithful once-in-a-great-while-partaker,

la dick

2009-11-04T09:09:00.000-08:00

have you seen this site? fucking hilarious.
http://emailsfromcrazypeople.com/

also, it's gingerbread latte season and i'm all over it.

lately i have been in this weird, completely out of characteristic girly mode where i can't concentrate on work because i'm too busy searching kandee johnson youtube videos on teeth whitening and watching lady gaga videos. i added a justin timberlake station to my pandora. (i KNOW. but honestly, timbaland does all his beats, so how can you NOT be down?) and about lady gaga...i just can't help it, i like her. i was super surprised to hear her speak for the first time. i thought for sure she would be a brit. america just doesn't turn out characters like her. and have you seen photos of her before she was a crazy blond characature? just not the same. she's just like every other tanned italian bitch. but add some structured platinum hair, hook up the nose job, and remove the pants forever, and you have a lovable pop star creature. awesome. and yes, i know lady gaga is i tired and worn out subject.

hot:

but not the same as:

jesus, who am i? lady gaga is so last season yet here i am typing away about her.

also, coming soon, my "adventures in Methland" post. just call me The Cleaner.