...

pretend there's no kanye:

and enjoy the show.

mmmmm......

i wanna live good so shit i sell dope for a four finger ring and one of those gold ropes

I just did a google search on "multi-finger ring" because i want one for my birthday and i have to start finding examples for my boyfriend now so it might happen by june. I typed in multi-fingerring instead and google asked me if i meant molester-fingering.

so of course i said yes but google didn't find any thing that matched that search criteria.

it was a fine affair, but now it's over...

i didn't do anything for saint patrick's day because i am too old for that shit. and because i don't have any friends to hang out with. okay, i don't have any friends that i can actually hang out with without being bored out of my mind. i probably would have rallied last night if i had some friends to actually rally with. my whole life is work and insomnia (although i've been seriously exhausted from the boobs so at least i can sleep lately.)

I realized last night that i am too opinionated and hard core for this city. Anyone who knows me will laugh and say that i'm not too hardcore for anything, but that's because they are bastards and haven't visited me in this boring homogeneous suburban city sprawl so they have no idea what i am up against here. no one here understands why i want to hear music at night, no one here can possibly relate to any of my drug fueled experiences and no one here can even begin to understand what i've been through, much less feel where i'm coming from. There's no energy here, there's no dirty ghetto food spots that are open until 2AM, there is no dirt, no colored skin, no style, no cabs, no art, no pulse, no humans. there are only whitewashed suburbanites and trophy wives who aspire to be nothing more than hummer driving, manicure having, starbucks drinking, cell phone talkers who can't list a single current event except the sale at Neiman Marcus.

People don't understand anything about me here. It's fairly obvious that most people i've met here find most things about me rather weird. It's weird that i like hip hop. It's weird that i think palazzo pants are wack. It's weird that i even say wack. It's weird that i wear what i like and not what "they are showing" in inStyle magazine. it's weird that i drink on airplanes. it's weird that I swear regularly. It's weird that i care about the war, it's weird that i care about politics, it's weird that i vote, it's weird that i like organic food and it's weird that i read. The only thing that is not weird about me is the fact that i like to be tan and i have fake tits.

i'm making more and more money and i'm becoming more and more "successful" as the months go by, and right along with it i'm feeling more and more empty, bored, uninspired and restless. I am not living up to my potential and i'm not exploring all my possibilities and once again i am ready to move on and see what ELSE is OUT THERE. when will i be satisfied?

you have to understand the way i am, mein herr
a tiger is a tiger, not a lamb, mein herr
you'll never turn the vinegar to jam, mein herr
so i do what i do
when i'm through then i'm through
and i'm through
toodle oo.


don't dab your eye mein herr
or wonder why mein herr
i've always said that i was a rover

you musn't knit your brow
you should have known by now
you've every cause to doubt me mein herr

although i used to care
i need the open air
you're better off without me
mein herr

today is wack outfit day

first of all...

amy winehouse is the fucking shit.

second of all: dear dad, please don't notice i got breast implants.

third of all, these are hoodoos:
fourth of all, why the fuck was ANYone surprised that snoop got arrested for drugs again? of COURSE snoop stays high, come on. That's like being surprised that models do coke. oh wait, that did surprise everyone. everyone is retarded.

tell me snoop isn't the shit. any man that can rock pigtails and girl glasses and look straight pimp is alright in my book.

fifth of all, i always run from the bouquet when the bride throws it at a wedding. i'm afraid of the bouquet. and probably marriage, too.

sixth of all this is my blog and if i want to write random ass boring shit i can because it is mine.

seventh of all, here is a pic from the archives. it means i will fukk you up at dominos.i'm talking shit with my eyebrows. and notice the concentration. i'm counting bones, ya'll.

eigth and final of all, another archival gem (i hate the word gem, by the way. it really annoys me but i used it anyway...) the girl on the left is one of my favorite people in the world and the girl on the right is one of those people who was a good friend for about ten minutes and then dissapeared into the void where people go and are never heard from again. i think she's in oregon but it wouldn't surprise me if by now she was a smackhead in some haitian alley. but nothing really surprises me anymore.
one time we went to a club together and ended up in an asian mafia car buying ecstasy in front of the SFPD at eight in the morning. the car was a honda civic, of course.
(sorry mom. you want to read my blog, you get to hear uncensored drug stories.)

insane.

this thing is the insanest thing ever created.


I am supposed to be doing 1031 things right now and not one of them is going to cuteoverload.com.

if this is fat, sign me up.

enough with the tyra banks if fat bullshit. Wieghing 161 pounds doesn't make you fat, especially not if you are a 6' supermodel with giant tits and an hourglass figure. this is fat:

this is hotter than you, perez hilton:

i'm all for celebrity shit talking, but there are limits. The American trend towards frail anorexics is really starting to wear me out. heroin chic was hot, but that was when herion chic meant kate moss, who really isn't that skinny. Jaslene from ANTM is really pushing the skinny model envelope. Jaslene, where is you ass, girl?

I just looked through the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition and was very dissapointed by that as well. Where is all the booty? Where are the boobs? Where are the waistlines? how did this happen, america? The SI swimsuit editon is where so many gorgeous women got their start, women with real (or fake, but at least curvy) bodies...how did it end up that the whole 2007 edition is skinny anorexic models with 8 year old boy bodies? Is anyone with me on this?

America was founded on dissent...

...and this man is a patriot.

just in case you were wondering

yes, i'm at target, which sucks and is embarassing. (almost as embarassing as talking on one phone while taking my own picture with my other phone by myself like a total asshole while at target.) i had to go there because apparently it's the only place that carries the camisoles i have to wear to contain the boobs until the scars heal and i can wear an actual bra.



above are the hellish camis that i hate and cost waaaay too much and don't actually provide any support and only come in ugly colors.

anyway, there they are. the new homegirls.