ahh the subleties of naked picture taking.

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

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

you gave us cereal...in an ashtray

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

WOAH

women lie men lie

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.

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!

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

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

werkin

I AM

ON A

VERY IMPORTANT

PHONE CALL.

i was in SF again.

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.

RIP, KING OF NEW YORK

WHATTTTT???

do ya'll KNOW about this???

what you know about mind sex?

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.

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?