Burning that candle:
I made an embarassing mistake the other day. I'm not going to give you full details for fear of being arrested or simply avoided like the human plague I can sometimes be...
Let's just say that instead of taking one medication I took another. One with multiple side effects. During the day. Effects lasting from the tail end of work throughout the school eve.
I only late at night realized my mistake because as is common in my life, my body is unpredictable. Therefore things like lapses in memory, slight visual hallucinations, a mumble-stumble, etc. ARE COMPLETELY POSSIBLE. They are also things I know how to deal with, being treated like a guinea pig in my formative years for a delightful AID that sometimes made me unconcious. The joy!
This will never happen again, as I have now taken it upon my duties to personally make the labels quite discernable from one another.
Other news:
Swingin titties. Every time I'm at the YMCA I want the other ladies v. small a cup titties. I will have to learn how to be in a better mood about my own jugs. GOALS. I HAVE THEM.
20-Something Party news:
This weekend was spent at a few hotspots. I re-met some guy I had conversed with the previous week at Duff's. I saw Manson Family Picnic at Pete's Candy Store [many of my friends showed up and MFP were really bangin for a second show]. I saw David DePoris get his grove on in front of an absolutely abnoxious crowd of NYU students. They were all miserably drunk and the ratio of one dude to hot asian chick was great. Great for them. I was looking for some brothers, or at least people that looked like they hadn't fallen out of their parents wallet in spandex and cocaine covered smocks. Oh, right. I met some lovely ladies. They were on the powder tip and I was on the just got kicked out by security tip. It was fun but I'm off the crazy glitter and I needed a snooze anyhow. This GinCat likes the soft pillows these days. I'm surprised I didn't stay in all the week-end trying to re-watch twin peaks.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Hope I don't feel differently tomorrow.
The human body. Created for all of the struggle that can be felt by the gifts we were blessed with!
For a while now I have had a terrible attitude about money. I grew up on the disadvantaged side of the spectrum because of a whole lot of bad decisions my parents made. Staying together, over-estimating people skills. You get the idea. I've known work from a very young age which has it's drawbacks.
For one, you grow up resenting those with no work ethic. I may be lazy when it comes to buckling down and concentrating on details, but I've been beating up the big picture pussy with a dick the size of a bayonet [I'm very old-fashioned].
Excuse the terrible reference and slight to women. Where I'm from it becomes a part of your everyday language. Instead of erasing that, I'd thought I'd give you a peep into what commuting on the NYC Subway is like. Day in and day out.
Of course I'm aching and dying step by step and I reach my front door and the elevator is going to be out for two months and I turn the key and sigh and walk up the flights with the ole "I didn't die on the last landing, I ain't gonna die on this one" attitude.
Back to money though. It's when I'm at my most tired that I really do NOT care. Heading into this gloomy recession has hit me hard. I'm really poor in every sense of the word. At least in the sense that I can not take you out to dinner and I steal rolls from the cafeteria and I will make you a Valentine's Day card with stale markers and you will think I'm creative but really wouldn't we all like chocolates and don't you think I need a haircut and health insurance? Seriously though. I honestly think of my father coming to this country and only having a radio to occupy his home time. Or, of course, interaction with family. OR just hanging out on the corner with people before the days of invasive ring tones and clothing for dogs.
The thing is, I can fall just as deep into the gold filled rabbit hole. I like to spend money because it's such a stupid thing. I'll give you this if you give me that. In reality I don't need what you have unless it is knowledge you are imparting or the ride it takes to get me there. I have a nice watch I don't need and my ex-boyfriend actually buys me stockings and feeds me when I don't have food in my house. I can not put a price on good company or a good show versus an ankle sweller and skull crusher [I'm a fragile boned lady, ask my PediR]. I can not put a price on sidling up to someone with a cheap beer and feeling them out. If someone kicks a trash can and startles a Goddamn CAT I can not recreate the moment of 4:30 am deserted Brooklyn streets. This is my version of "money can't buy you love" or "I will not contemplate slaughtering that woman who is wearing a full length fur in april, for she is radiant in ignorance and rich in a nose broken on purpose to smell the richness of her own shit." vampires of zanzibar. sensory overload!
I always think if I can't live anymore or I lose my house or shelter, if I lose my family, if I ruin everything, I'll just go back to the dirt and make january nights smell like the butter of bare damp trees. yum.
You tend to write uplifting things at the craziest of times. fuckit.
For a while now I have had a terrible attitude about money. I grew up on the disadvantaged side of the spectrum because of a whole lot of bad decisions my parents made. Staying together, over-estimating people skills. You get the idea. I've known work from a very young age which has it's drawbacks.
For one, you grow up resenting those with no work ethic. I may be lazy when it comes to buckling down and concentrating on details, but I've been beating up the big picture pussy with a dick the size of a bayonet [I'm very old-fashioned].
Excuse the terrible reference and slight to women. Where I'm from it becomes a part of your everyday language. Instead of erasing that, I'd thought I'd give you a peep into what commuting on the NYC Subway is like. Day in and day out.
Of course I'm aching and dying step by step and I reach my front door and the elevator is going to be out for two months and I turn the key and sigh and walk up the flights with the ole "I didn't die on the last landing, I ain't gonna die on this one" attitude.
Back to money though. It's when I'm at my most tired that I really do NOT care. Heading into this gloomy recession has hit me hard. I'm really poor in every sense of the word. At least in the sense that I can not take you out to dinner and I steal rolls from the cafeteria and I will make you a Valentine's Day card with stale markers and you will think I'm creative but really wouldn't we all like chocolates and don't you think I need a haircut and health insurance? Seriously though. I honestly think of my father coming to this country and only having a radio to occupy his home time. Or, of course, interaction with family. OR just hanging out on the corner with people before the days of invasive ring tones and clothing for dogs.
The thing is, I can fall just as deep into the gold filled rabbit hole. I like to spend money because it's such a stupid thing. I'll give you this if you give me that. In reality I don't need what you have unless it is knowledge you are imparting or the ride it takes to get me there. I have a nice watch I don't need and my ex-boyfriend actually buys me stockings and feeds me when I don't have food in my house. I can not put a price on good company or a good show versus an ankle sweller and skull crusher [I'm a fragile boned lady, ask my PediR]. I can not put a price on sidling up to someone with a cheap beer and feeling them out. If someone kicks a trash can and startles a Goddamn CAT I can not recreate the moment of 4:30 am deserted Brooklyn streets. This is my version of "money can't buy you love" or "I will not contemplate slaughtering that woman who is wearing a full length fur in april, for she is radiant in ignorance and rich in a nose broken on purpose to smell the richness of her own shit." vampires of zanzibar. sensory overload!
I always think if I can't live anymore or I lose my house or shelter, if I lose my family, if I ruin everything, I'll just go back to the dirt and make january nights smell like the butter of bare damp trees. yum.
You tend to write uplifting things at the craziest of times. fuckit.
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