can i kick it?

my lips are parched. ever heard of being addicted to lip balm? i'm an addict. always parched.
i feel like making a list, and since my birfday is coming up, (04-05) i'll make a list things i would like to have and keep.

1. firm handshake.
2. tattoo(s)
3. keg stand
4. nagel art
5. a tiny male dog
6. dodge shadow
7. drugs (you know what i like)
8. hugs
9. legos
10. unicorn crap
11. whatever you think i would love.
12. all my friends with me.

VH1 has a lot of nerve.

i spent 48 years in a salon chair today. my head is sore from the pulling, bleaching, icky hair disposing and the hot dryer. my ass prolly got the equiv of bed sores. ew. too nast?
but, goddamn do i look hot lava.

i took a fullfilling nap and woke up totes refresh. who wants to go out? fucking nobody. something firey must have gotten into me cuz i'm drinking whixxxey alone. i never drink this shit, tastes like botulism, but here i am, hurricane drinking.
dogs are no fun to drink with. they have a teeny sip and then they're all, "yeah, i'm done. i'm just gonna stare out at you in hopes of some cheese. and don't touch me."
lame.
i rode my bike to Hair Police, and i haven't ridden my bike in like, 14 decades, so i was excited and nervous. more nervous when i started peddling down Lake St and realized i had no breaks. POGO, where are you? fix my breaks? raise my seat? buy you beer? so that was kinda eeeeeeeeeeee. but i made it. when i had to stop i would just run into a wall or a parked car or some random pedestrian.
no i didn't.
yes i did.

well, 1:57am. last call is out. yr all going to prison.

every minute i'm not watching cable is money wasted.

just got back from the annual lady-parts doctor and even though it was uncomfortable, painful, and totally awkward (she wouldn't even dim the lights), i am very, very happy.
once again, my bits look great. i have the cervix of a 12 yr old boy. wait....what?
i also got a perscription for the nuvaring so i can get off these fucking anti-baby pills that are making me fat and cranky. huge and cranky. chubby and irritable.
AND AND AND!!!!! and we discussed Tubal Ligation. for the dummies, that means gettin the tubes tied.

my doctor told me there shouldn't be any reason why she wouldn't do the surgery for me. fuck yes.
i have a consultation appointment next month where they will pretty much grill me why i don't want children. easy enough. i have 8,349 reasons why i don't want brats. after that, i bet we'll make an appt for the surgery, and i'm child free. forever. i'm so goddamned excited.

here are some words i like saying: bunk beds. ringworm. tank top. punk rock.

i wanna fuck you.

i just really need to get out. i need a new atmosphere. i need new drugs. i want my same scene. i just want to pick it up, turn it upside down, and shake out all the sucks to move it somewheres where the summer season never changes.
55-95 degreeeeeeez. that's that. all that.

and every hippie that goes home bloody feels like a martyr back in the city
or in new jersey and not manhatten, or in the hamptons, back on campus
and out in boston and out in cambridge and out in brookline, back in brooklyn
and on the east coast, the carolinas, and in virginia and in memphis
in the twin cities and on the west coast and in alaska and coasta rica
and in jamaica and in miami, i wanna fuck you, i wanna fuck you
out on long island
-lftr pllr

so what? do something.

when i die, don't touch my stuff.

it's 5:30am, and i'm dying.
since Sunday, 3am-ish, i've vomitted 3 or 4 times. and each of those times it was a lot. lots of vom.
no, i am NOT pregnant. i'm on the pill and seman is a thing of the past. food poisoning? maybe. botulism? probably. anxiety/depression? could be. inner ear problems? i have no idea. bulimia? i wish.

the last thing i ate before the first of the pukings was vegan chili. that's why i suspect botulsim.
second time was right after i ate a party pizza. 3rd thru 4th time was a few hours after some baby swiss and wheat thins. what is going on?

i love all of you. please, avenge my death. revenge my death. whatever it takes. i'd do it for you.

puppy knuckles

I know all of you are sick to death of me talking about my dog and probably hope i die after this post, but please? one more story? at least for a little bit?
ok? good.

so we hit the barkpark for a while yestarday, you know the usual sunday afternoon jaunt, and Rizzo was there. he's another Siberian Husky also from M.U.S.H.R. (i could tell stories about his owner, but no way...i'll just get twitchy) and he looks exactly like Aries. same color, size, eyes, age, everything. I couldn't believe it when i first met him a while ago. it's really strange to see them together because even from a short distance it's very difficult to tell them apart. so natch, i call Riz aries' brother.
Some other dog owner noticed how much they look alike and asked how i told them apart. I told her that they have different collars, Aries is better behaved and she's better looking.
ANYWAYS............

I usually keep treats in my pocket at the barkpark for good dogs, or when Aries is being awesome, but this time Rizzo would not leave me alone and followed me everywhere for about 2 hours. would not go away, kept jumping on me and begging for treats and was just being obnoxious. Aries didn't mind for awhile, just let it go and did her own thing, but after a few hours she noticed this husky who was just crazy fucking with me and his owner thought it was funny and disn't do anything, even though i was like "yeah, i'm done now, call yr dumb dog", so Aries FREAKED. she was all "get the fuck away from my mom!" and just threw the fuck down on Rizzo. i mean straight up fucked him up.
she grabbed his collar and threw him on the ground and stood on top of him. if he got up to follow me again, she'd bite his neck and drag him away, then stood between me and him and barked and growled with teeth out and ears back and would turn around every now and then to lick my hands and nuzzle me to see if i was ok.

i was so proud. my little booboo really does love me and will fuck up anyone who messes with me.
when it was time to go and we got to the gate, she turned around gave Rizzo one more paw in the ass for good measure, then pranced to the car with me, like she knew she was the big hero.

goddamn, i love that fucker.
don't mess with me unless you want husky teeth embedded in yr head.

And the streets don't change but maybe the name

The jukebox at the American Sports Cafe cafe for the most part eats pieces of shit for breakfast. BUT, the do have the G'N'R hits. everytime i'm there i make sure to play a rock triangle of "Patience", "November Rain", and a little bit of "Sweet Child". are my friends sick of it? yeah, but hey dude, fuck them, right?
The can't do wicked Slash solos or Axls' slither and freak out screamos. You think they can back up like Izzy and Duff? nope. I'm just giving them a reminder.

I saw the VH1 Behind The Music of g n r tonight, and freaked. i looked in the mirror and almost passed out over what i had become. look, i don't wanna hit super models in the face or anything, but shit! one look at me and you'd think the loves of my life were hoagies, peanut butter cups, Roseanne, and working in an office. instead of sweet riffs, excess and fury! i've lost my rocker girl dashing good looks.

purge! vomit! blow! speed speed faster faster!

ok, maybe not, but fuck i wanna look like Axl. then, not now mind you. ew.
i can't even vaseline myself into my leather (faux) pants anymore. ribcage and cheekbones no longer visable but hidden under soft pale chub.

don't think for a second that i'm supporting the gotta-be-anorexic-to-be-attractive mindset of society and the magazines and America's Next Top Ho-bag.
not way. far from it.
i just wanna be the girl Axl. I wanna be slithery in a kilt. who else but Axl can wear gym shorts, cowboy boots and a fucking cape? yeah, nobody. but i'll get there.

from now on, don't be suprised when you see me with a Steven Tyler tassled flowing Microphone, skull bandanas, cop hat and white spandex shorts.

i'm just keping the look alive.