out

I'm going to be away from the internet world for awhile.

(not sure for how long, but long enough.)

this can't be right

A husband screws up. Husband buys wife, not Godiva, not roses...

Hickory Farms.

I mean, when my friend told me, I didn't believe it, but it's true.

Hickory fucking farms.

selly selly sell

Just a quick bit of excitement..

I've sold some more prints!!

dear anon,

(since I was sent an anonymous email, with anonymous info, I am going to respond here.)

Since apparently you can't send an email from your own account nor can you sign your name or inform me what gargantuan stick is shoved up your ass, I am going to respond in a public forum.

I don't know what you think my relationship is with your imaginary boyfriend, but I haven't spoken 2 words to him in over a month. We had a past, sure. But the past is the past and I will never have any interest in anything beyond a strained friendship with him. Also, your idle threats are greatly appreciated because I don't think I've laughed as hard as I did when reading it.

To be perfectly honest, I think you need to take a look at the fact that you are sending anonymous emails out to random females. I mean.. really.. Crazy much?

I don't really care what you think you can do to me. Better people than you have tried and failed miserably. You see, for things to affect me, I'd have to give a shit first.

Listen, with all of your attempts to cover who you are, your email made it quite clear and where I haven't forwarded the email on to mentioned parties, I'm getting closer and closer to sending it just so everyone else will know how insane you are.

Hell. I should just post it here.

If you don't stop trying to contact my boyfriend I'm going to find you and beat the living shit out of you, you fucking nasty whore. All of your little comments on his blog are fucking stupid, anyhow. You know we're together so there's NO FUCKING REASON for you to text message him about your birthday or anything else. He's MINE. Believe it when I say it: I will destroy you. Oh and your photography sucks ass you stupid cunt.

wowsa

i don't think i've ever sweat so much, dancing my ass off at a concert.

alrighty. I've drank a lot. I'm gonna makes me somes foods and then I'ms gonnas sleeps.

and everything is right with the world.

The show was awesome even though they didn't play "waiting for mommie".
I'll take that up with the powers that be.

(my ears are a-ringin')

in just a few short hours

I get to pretend be a little goth girl again.
(I'm so excited)

shocked

Okay.. so I know everyone else in the world has experienced this already. I'm a little slow.

But, I just had to pay $39 for 10.2 gallons of gas to fill up the Eclipse. (She was just at 1/4 tank.)

I don't even want to think about how much it's going to cost me to fill up the Jeep since last year it was steadily averaging $45. Luckily I have 2 cars to choose from, work from home and rarely go out of my own little 5 mile radius.

And, now that JTA, the joke of a transportation agency, has announced an extension of the Downtown trolleys into Riverside, that driving will be even less. I can park at one bar, trolley to the next 3, sober up on the way back to the car and then drive home.

Or so I thought.

The hours are laughable. If you want people to use this thing, it needs to run later than 2:30pm and include Sundays.

Like I said.. laughable.

It's time like this that I really miss living in NYC.

no way

I've been invited to show at 2 galleries and to participate in a 2nd show at Starlite.
Apparently I don't suck as much as I feared.

i heart me

and i heart my peeples.

although, acid reflux and vodka, gin and then a burrito isn't happy tummy time.

Still.... Yay!

I can't remember the last time I've had such a good, non-committal event.

I got hit on by a guitarist, which (as any girl knows) is quite a catch.

And still.... I couldn't follow it up. I just can't. I need to feel something.

Stupid Emotions.

quicksie

Ahhh the weekend of the birthday girl.

Good times.

However, Grape and Cherry 3 Olives Vodka may taste fine on their own but taste like vomit when mixed. You know, just for your information.

I still finished the drink, though.

The only thing that was left out was the ceremonial bottle of Tequila Rose.

1st, 31st and infinity

It's taken me a few days, well I guess one day is more accurate, to figure out how I feel about this past Wednesday night - my birthday "celebration" and the opening of my photography installation.

The installation went wonderful. I got positive feedback from everyone, including the owner of the venue. It was a wonderful feeling which carried me through the other bullshit [to be explained] until the next morning.

You see, all of my supposed close friends ditched me. My best friend left about an hour into the whole thing with out saying goodbye nor answering my phone call or text messages until the next day. When asked, "What happened?", the response was merely an excuse blamed on another party. Another close friend of mine, after spending the last week going on and on about how much fun we'd have and how she'd already taken the morning off from work the next morning, left not 45 minutes after meeting "some guy". Another friend showed up in a mood that could only be described as, at best, annoyed about being there. To top the whole thing off, the closest girlfriend I have not only didn't show up, but didn't even wish me a happy birthday and still hasn't called, texted or emailed to ask me how everything went.

So, the birthday gift I received is that I stupidly picked some of the most selfish friends a girl could ever wish for. I get the gift of finding new friends. Which in all reality, I don't mind one bit. I always enjoy meeting people and forging new friendships with new and different people.

I will say this, though, so this post isn't mostly negative. The one person whom I didn't expect to care very much, not only showed up, wished me happy birthday, eased my nerves about the show and was, hands down, the most supportive person there. Even what I call "my bar friends" were more excited than the people I've called my "everyday friends".

What I've realized is this: I give too much and have attracted selfish people. When I have something to offer, like distraction, cute guy friends, a night out because someone's broke or offering to host a cook-out with no requests from guests, they are there. When, for once, I want to be the center of attention, want to bask in the glow of love of friends, they are incapable.

I'm not as upset as I was yesterday. Maybe because of the Xanax. Maybe because I know how to resolve the solution and there's nothing to worry about anymore.

I mean, realistically, how can I expect people do things they aren't capable of?

Still, screw the bullshit. My opening went wonderfully. I couldn't have wished for a better reception from the public and through it all, that's what's most important to me. People love and understand my art.

green porno

http://www.sundancechannel.com/greenporno

If you have the time, check out the videos. They are quite odd, but in an endearing way.

not again

For about the last year, there's been a recurring incident in about 95% of my dreams:

My car gets stolen.

I always eventually find it or it ends up being returned, but no matter what else is going on, my car goes missing. It's occured so often that I've always turned to whomever I'm with and said, "This happens all of the time. It'll be back later." Last night was no exception except for one not so subtle difference: both of my cars were taken.

Sadly, I can't remember anything else about the dream and I woke up shortly after that happened so it didn't even get resolved, unlike the other 47 dreams in the past. The only clear part is that I went outside, thought "Well shit. My car's been stolen Again...", threw my hands up in despair and started crying. Then I woke up - and not in the best of moods.

To be perfectly honest, it didn't help my already frazzled nerves one iota.

According to the world wide webspert dream analyzers, "to dream that you car has been stolen, indicates that you are being stripped of your identity".

It's fairly true, too. I've been sort of at this turning point where I realize I am no longer in my 20s. I'm finding my first gray hairs and wrinkles. I feel like I've lost my youth and spirit. Not only that, but with this whole "photography thing", I'm having to redefine myself artistically, which isn't easy.

I think I have sort of allowed "the deep down me" to get lost [for so many stupid reasons] and I also think that's why I'm so nervous about Wednesday. I need to hurry up and find her so she can come out to play and appreciate everything that's going on.

So how do handle weird dreams and emotional baggage?

Like any self-respecting girl would. I went shopping.

spring has sprung

finally.. after about 2 months of seeding, weeding, feeding, tilling, watering, crying and pleading, my grass seed has germinated. [these sprouts are about 1/2" tall]

aww, really?

the girl's bathroom stall knows how to make me feel special.

*Starlite, girl's bathroom, right stall.

no more bird shit, YAY!

So the tree people came today and cut down my mulberry tree which was dropping berries all over my cars. Also, birds would hang out up there, eat the berries and poop all over everything.

No more!

Stupid birds.

I have a love/hate relationship with birds. Mostly I don't like them. Growing up at the beach and spending time in NYC has hardened me into someone who only sees birds as gross pooping machines. When I was 18, I had a roommate that had a bird as a pet and would fantasize about letting it free while she was at work. All of that aside, I like watching them from the safety from my front porch and even put out seed for the song birds.

But I draw the line when it comes to pooping on me and my stuff, so their little food source has been chopped and chipped into oblivion.

vajayjays unite

So, every Wednesday I go to what I lovingly refer to as "My Bar". It's my spot where I know the bartenders, the musicians and the other regulars. I even have "my seat" at the bar. It's my time and I love it.

Now, while on the outside this dive bar seems like a buncha hippies frolicking to blues and funk, it has a darker core.

I am not sure why, maybe it's just because it's a bar, but 2 out of 4 days I am there, there's an altercation. Last night was no exception but this time I happened to be a part of it.

Cast of Characters:

There was a 20-sheets-to-the-wind, droopy-eyed drunk. I mean he was wasted. Let's call him Soccer Boy, or SB, because of the shirt he had on. Then there was SB's friend, SBF. Now for the ladies.. There was the bartender K, the harassed one L, another friend D and myself.

Back story:

Early in the night I saw SB harassing some of the musicians that were sitting in a booth. I don't know what it was all about exactly but SBF was trying his hardest to get him to calm down.

Why didn't he just take his obliterated friend home? I don't know. I asked myself that question several times.

So SBF drags him away from the booths and deposits him at the bar, in one of the 4 seats between myself and L. I'm talking with D, remarking on how drunk the guy is, listening to the band and just chillin'. Havin a time, ya know? But because I saw how wasted he was, and how uncontrollable, I brought out my stun gun. Just in case.

After a bit it looked like SBF had his friend under control, though. Things were looking up. I put away my 1,000,000 volt, bright pink weapon and continued enjoying the music - - and my vodka and rockstar. D went over to sit with L to show her the mother's day cards she made and were selling - which were awesome. I stayed in my corner of the bar.

I'm not sure exactly how it came to this, but the next thing I know, L pushes the SB, who had been all up in her space being jerky, he slaps the hell out of her and faster than I can blink, K comes around the bar [I still swear the transported herself mentally]. Before K can grab SB, L knocks the shit out of him and he stumbles back into K's awaiting arms. She "horse collared" him , drug him to my area where I was caught with his flailing arm, so I punched him in the head. K tossed him into the middle of the floor and SB looked around..

What does he see?

4 women just asking for an excuse to beat his ass. Shoulder to shoulder we stood, glaring at him with no men in sight.

It seemed like an hour that we stood there, murdering him with our eyes. He kept looking from face to face to face.

Finally the silence was broken and he was forced outside by his friend and some of the other male regulars. But it didn't stop there. He kept screwing with everyone, screaming about the "bitches in the bar". Hell yeah we're bitches. You don't hit a woman, nor do you hit a 100lb, 5'4" friend of mine.

Don't get this story wrong. I'm not a fighter. I don't pick fights and I usually don't interject myself into them either. Most of the time I avoid physical confrontation with my mouth and my feet (by walking away). Something about last night, though. I don't know. L is probably one of the sweetest, "realest" girls I've ever met. And something about that guy.. something so..... backwards about him.

I don't know where this guy came from, but you can't invade a girl's space without repercussions. And no matter how catty and bitchy we may be to each other, if one of us is cold-cocked by a man, we will rise up and beat the crap out of you.