omg i am SO fucking sorry

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.

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.

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

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.

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