Sunday, May 29, 2005

like what?


Saturday, May 28, 2005

2 more days

today i went to the american apparell store and bought my travelling suit. it's a blue skirt that is made out of like sweatshirt material and a gray shirt and a blue hoodie. it looks like a prison issued outfit and if i wear it with my mechanical rings i just know people will think i am a robot from the future.

i'm looking at the shit all over my desk and thinking about how on june 29 when i come home from europe i am going to look at all this shit and it's going to look all weird like what is all this does this belong to someone else and it will probably make me cry because i'll be tired and confused. yes i can predict the future. SO if you know me in the real world of reality you should come over on WEDNESDAY JUNE 29 at like 9 pm and distract me from like breaking all my shit or something.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

six milion ways to die so i chose

i was standing on the counter changing a lightbulb and an intense wave of euphoric calm washed over me and my eyes went out of focus and i could feel my heart humming all warm. i was electrocuting myself and it felt fucking amazing.

i wonder if i was walking down adams and it was all sunny and beautiful outside and i was listening to music and looking at all the people sweating in their black suits and all the school kids running out of the art institute and climbing on the lions and falling down the steps and someone walking past me just pulled out a gun and shot my heart. i bet it would be fucking incredible.

i wonder if he was breathtakingly gorgeous and smiled at me if i'd be like all exhilarated if i wouldn't even see it coming suddenly i would just be on the ground and staring into the sun. it would totally be thrilling and calming at the same time.

i wonder what it would be like to drown, if you reach an ephiphany as your lungs fill do you float out of consciousness or do you open your eyes wide before you die. NO.

if you jump off a 30 story building how long do you feel while you hit the ground?

touch the third rail.


Wednesday, May 25, 2005

living in the land of the lost

today i decided to walk to my car after work instead of taking the train because it was so fucking nice out and i was wearing new sandals and i wanted to break them in. i had fabulous adventures. i lost the trail and ended up in some kind of prarie with blue flowers and crazy birds like i've never seen before unitl i ran into a big fence with a black tarp over it. i climbed up to the top and looked over and all i could see was giant dirt dunes and construction equiptment so i jumped over and walked around in the dirt until i was covered in it and i even had it on my face somehow and then it all ended and there was water all around. hell no it was a penninsula. so i had to backtrack like 2 miles back past the field museum and around soldier field. my feet were all sticky with blood by then and i tried to get some boats to pick me up and take me across the marina but i guess i didn't know the right arm signals or something. i walked for like three hours.

i don't believe i didn't bring my camera to work today.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

the greatest love story of all time

i've been writing this story with this guy for a few years.

i wonder how his story goes. i know he has one because sometimes when i'm near him i can hear it. sometimes i can almost read it through what he remembers and what he forgets. i remember everything.

sometimes i'll be driving in my car listening to music and i feel like he can see me and i wonder if he's writing the story right then.

one day i was at a party sitting in the grass and i heard my name. when you call my name it's like a little prayer. we ran at each other and i jumped on him and knocked him down and we fucked in the middle of the field until we had so much grass in our hair and we couldn't breathe. i think there were people around us but we were blurry eyed and didn't care.

i don't want the blue fairy to breathe life into my story i don't want him to be a real boy i want to have a story that is all mine god doesn't write beautiful stories like i do.


Saturday, May 21, 2005

not really any gayer than any other poem i've ever read

if you are going to write poetry that is going to suck like all poetry does then you might as well make it using only words people searched to find your blog or something because then when people are like dude your poem fucking sucks you can be like whatever i wrote that shit using all keywords it's not my fault people find my blog searching dumb keywords like bulemic handjobs and shit! and then when some idiot is like dude your poem is fucking awesome you can be like wow, you're an idiot. i'm going to throw up on you now and call it performance art. anyway, here is my poem it's called "not really any gayer than any other poem i've ever read" AKA


old bulimic girls vomit while wet eyed virgins rub handjobs

before the street lights come on

and navy boys rape slutty rich girls and fight

over special edition drugs.

in the next episode you blow meth

off the edge of your black dad's cock.

it looks fatal in lesbian perceptions.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

elgin. it's so hot right now. elgin.

this weekend when i woke up naked with the lights on and no blankets and pillows next to a secret stealth assassin i was like shit, i need a vacation.

i was mentally exhausted, but not like mentally exhausted enough to warrant a trip to south africa or whatever, and seriously i'm so sick of the hamptons, so i threw my backpack into the maybach and told my driver to wake me up when we got to elgin.

elgin illinois is pretty much heaven. if you don't know now you know.

like they have a casino there which is so fucking cool that it even smells delicous. kind of like a whole bottle of vanilla fields exploded in a middle school bathroom. the bar there is called the vixen's den, and i bet it's full of beautiful people that are just too gorgeous to do anything but sit around being gorgeous all day, but i didn't get to find out because that shit is more exclusive than studio 54 and i totally got turned away at the velvet ropes. gene lancaster, my delightful tour guide, was like "don't cry, dry your eye" and we jumped into a mural of some nymphs. i felt just like alice through the looking glass or some shit. did you know that the laws of physics don't apply in elgin? it's pretty fucking amazing.

look at me, i can't even open my eyes lest i be blinded by the sheer beauty of it all. i walked all around elgin in heels. for like hours. in heels! that's because the streets in elgin are made by nasa for ergonomically glorious walking.

in elgin garbage doesn't smell like garbage. it smells like brown sugar. and recycling smells like honey. it makes your lungs feel like they are blossoming into fluffy peonies every time you breathe. so of course all the cool kids drink 40s behind dumpsters.

yes. basically it smells like cookies there and is full of slutz so totally, you should go.

calgon, take me away.


Wednesday, May 18, 2005

set adrift on memory bliss. not.

i had an enemy in high school.

he told everyone we fucked. yeah right.

i guess he must have wanted people to think he fucked me really bad, because he had a girlfriend and still he told people we fucked. obviously he was super smart.

so then i had to tell his girlfriend no, i never fucked your, i CERTAINLY never fucked your boyfriend... seriously. look at me, do i LOOK like i want to fuck your boyfriend?... hey bitch, if i wanted to fuck your boyfriend i'd be fucking him right now. yeah, it escalated.

that guy was seriously fucked up. he hated me after that because us fake fucking totally ruined his fabulous relationship. i seriously wonder if he forgot that he actually made the whole thing up IN HIS MIND.

i mean, it didn't even matter because nobody believed it anyway. seriously, i was such a bitch in high school everybody probably thought my vagina had teeth and if we had fucked it would have shredded his cock beyond repair or something. my vagina would be like fizgik or whatever from the dark crystal. AWESOME.

anyway, the other day i was sitting around staring into space and my brain was like "hey, remember that time you were so drunk you and your friends totally got naked in the woods?" and i was like oh yeah, that shit was bananas! B.A.N.A.N.A.S! and my brain was like "huh. i wonder what you were drinking that night?" and i was like probably a thermos of vodka gin tequilla whiskey orange juice (mmm, tastes like nail polish remover with a hint of citrus). and my brain was like that explains why you made out with peter mardin then! and i was like, what? i never - OH FUCK!!! i guess i was so busy remembering that we didn't fuck that i forgot to remember that we totally made out. or he made out. with my drunken corpse or whatever. not that i was too drunk to probably mumble "uuhhhh...offff..." or something. but some times you are just that drunk that you would rather let some guy lick puke off the corners of your mouth than try to talk. like the first time i got super drunk off hard liquor and this guy darius was so worried about me he walked to kings and queens so he could get french fries to feed me. it was like i couldn't stand him stuffing another french fry in my mouth but it was easier to just chew than to say "hey darius, i think i'm about to throw up on you." woah, i was wearing the same yellow underwear both of those days. maybe i should get a new pair. for drunken partying.

how come it was easier for me to remember that i was wearing yellow underwear than it was for me to remember that i made out with my enemy?


i know my name is steven

when jessica asked me how to make linguine with clam sauce for mike jones i was like, wait, what??? and she was like mike jones is coming overe here on saturday, DUH. i was like huh, i've never seen someone mentally unravel before my very eyes before, AWESOME.

so then on saturday i came home from the liquor store and jessica and mike fucking jones are having a fucking candle light dinner on a picnic blanket in the middle of the living room floor. i was like, woah, what the fuck!!! is this for real??? that shit was surreal and i had to get the fuck out so i took off on a delightful vacation to the wonderful city of elgin illinois. i get back this morning and she's gone, her blog is gone, i think her secret dog is gone, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!!!

the only thing i can think is that mike jones has kidnapped my roommate. because seriously, she didn't even leave a note and that is so unlike her. but the thing that sucks is that since she's an adult or whatever i can't formally file a report for like three days or something and the police are so not taking this seriously. plus i don't think they even believe me that mike jones was even here. and that fucker must watch a lot of forensic files because there is no fucking evidence here. i even shined a black light all over and i got nothing.

don't worry. i'm going to get to the bottom of this if it kills me.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

i love my dead gay job.

i am going to make myself be the happiest worker on earth.

today i changed my password from dirtydeluxe to dirtydeluxe! with an exclamation point. this way i will probably start each day super excited instead of like the opposite of super excited.

i'm also going to set goals for myself. like my goal for tomorrow is to see if i can jump over my desk. one time my grandpa tried to do this and hurt the hell out of himself. he was like seventy years old though. but i'm going to do it in heels. so we'll see who comes out the victor, me or my dead grandpa. HA! good thing i don't believe in heaven or i might worry that he would be looking down from the clouds crying tears of shame as i kick his ass in the great 2005 desk jumping contest that he never knew he was in.

i'm also going to start walking around more, like with papers in my hand and shit. everyone will be like look at that girl, she is so fucking busy! i will be like, yes, i am so fucking busy i can't believe it but i love it though. then i will get a raise.

i'm really starting to love my job just thinking about it. love it so much i want to marry it!

time to go do some quality chair spinning in the quality assurance lab!!!

Sunday, May 15, 2005

i have been conditioned

today i woke up next to a super stealth assassin. last night when i went to bed with him i thought he was a normal guy but today i see that my awesome extra sensory perception has failed me again. he told me he liked me and that it was a shame i wouldn't want to stick around now that i knew he killed people for fun and profit. yeah right, i love that shit. it will be just like the professional, except he is younger than me, and not french. awesome.

i liked him so much i decided i would keep him on me at all times. i folded him up and put him in the pocket of my favorite jeans. i let him out when it is time for him to do his job. then he comes back and i fold him up and off we go. i am his getaway car and his getaway driver all at once. basically it's fucking amazing.

i will stay with my little assassin, until he dies or won't have me any longer. he is everything i ever wanted in a killer. he is johnny mayo, and i love him. i never thought it would happen, but i have been conditioned.

Friday, May 13, 2005

eugenics gone wild

holy ralph lauren eighties revival, pink button down shirts with the collar up and asymetrical tucked/untuckedness with bright blue too small v neck sweaters and weirdly cuffed jeans???

this is the kind of shit that makes me wish i had a 5 year old son named bradley so i could call him biff and make him wear little outfits like that. i would totally buy him a power wheels midnight blue super eighties style corvette and teach him how to crush up his ritalin so he could snort it at the lunch table with a hundred dollar bill, which he would call a hondo because he would obviously be so fucking cool.

he would probably be like a child prodigy (he is the spawn of me, after all) but i'd ruin the hell out of that by giving him nothing but bret easton ellis and jay mcinerny to read. i'd buy him the rules of attraction and less than zero for his fifth birthday but i'd probably hold out on glamorama and american psycho until he was like eight.

that's the story of why i'm on the pill for life.


Thursday, May 12, 2005

i'll put your lights out like the clapper

i need a hand gun to go with this outfit.

it doesn't even have to have any bullets i'm pretty much just going to use it to pistol whip people anyway.

maybe i would be like the mata hari of bounty hunters 2005 style.

maybe i would be like a vigilante. i would hunt down child rapists and they would wake up with me sitting on their chests like a cat. i'd look into their eyes and say "shhhh" and then i would pistol whip them unconscious. when they woke up they would be bound to their beds spread eagle style with an unbearable throbbing in their left temples and trickles of blood spilling down the side of their faces. i would put on fantastic plastic machine and dance around the room in my blue underwear, throwing confetti everywhere. it would be beautiful. then i'd sit down and cross my legs and smoke a cigarette and point my gun at them. i'd make some good aiming faces and little gun noises, travis bickel style. then i would throw confetti all over them and cut off their thumbs. no more opposable thumbs for you, you sick fuck!

i need a handgun.

i could wear it on a garter with a skirt. then when people were looking at me like on the train or something i could lift up my skirt a little and show it to them. then i could wink.

if i had a handgun then when people were talking about shit that was boring instead of pointing my imaginary remote at them and changing the channel by telepathy i could point my gun at them and blow their boring heads off. by telepathy, duh, there's not going to be any bullets in it, aren't you paying attention?

if i had a handgun i wouldn't have to rely on brute force when i was interrogating a suspect.

or date raping dan. whatever.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

it weighed on my mind

one time when i was like three i was driving in the country with my dad and we saw an old farm house burning down. my dad pulled over and we watched it for a long time. we watched the exterior wall burn and collapse until we could see all of the rooms like an ant farm or a dollhouse.

on hannukah my brother used to light the candles. i was scared to light a match. i was scared the candles were going to burn our house down. once my pajamas were so staticky that they sparked. it was blue and it popped. i thought i was going to spontaneously combust. i couldn't sleep.

i couldn't sleep a lot when i was little and even when i slept i didn't really sleep. it was the kind of sleep that happens in a car. one night i was sleepwalking and i hit my head on the metal corner of my bed. i went into my parents room and told them i had a headache and my mom felt my forehead with the back of her hand and told me to go back to sleep. then she realized her hand was covered in my blood.

my mom told me that seven was the age of reason. i was scared to turn seven. it weighed on my mind.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

you can tell a lot from a kiss

He was the best looking guy I had ever kissed, probably the best looking guy I had ever met. He lived on the floor above mine in the dorms, my first year in college. One night I found myself sitting on his bed anticipating making out or whatever. When we finally kissed it was so amazing I ran out of his room totally grossed out and embarrassed. Seven years later that is still the worst kiss I have ever received. I wasn’t embarrassed for me. I was embarrassed for him, duh.

The sort of pathetic, but not in a sweet way, punch line to my worst kiss ever, is what the guy said to my roommate a week later in the elevator. My then roommate, who incidentally is the dumbest person I have ever met, was most likely doing something obviously vein like checking her make-up or new tan in the mirror, when she asked him if he was going to have sex with me. Apparently he was as perceptive as he was good at kissing, because he shrugged and said, “Probably.” Seriously, he said that.

I was telling my friend Mark this story once, and I was laughing really hard. I wasn’t laughing hard because I’m that funny, but because we were sharing a bottle of tequila, and I was that drunk. I stopped, though, when I realized he wasn’t laughing. Instead he was like, “Wow Erin, you’re really shallow. Did you ever think maybe he hadn’t kissed as many people as you?” What?? Pretty much, he had just called me a shallow whore, because I thought some guy couldn’t kiss well. Obviously Mark wasn’t a good kisser, or he wouldn’t have said that, but it didn’t make sense anyway.

You can tell a lot from a kiss, but sometimes all that matters is you know you never want to kiss that person again. A kiss should be like a romantic expression of what you boil down to, or whatever. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a kiss is worth a thousand pictures, but I only need one to sum up that boy I met my first year in college. Imagine kissing a turtle crafted from wet cardboard. Gosh maybe Mark was right…

Actually I know I am not shallow because I am made of love, but the best looking guy I have ever kissed, probably the best looking guy I have ever met, definitely was not.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

fatal flying guillotine chops off your fucking head

giant unicorn balloons are fucking awesome. sometimes they fill a room with so much joy that spontaneous homo erotic acts occur by magic.

i was everlastingly peeing out all the vodka and cranberry blueberry juice i had drink drank drunk when the door came crashing in and who stood before me but the venerable rabbi isaac goldstein. he was like suck me you dirty whore, and i was like i get claustrophobic sucking strange dick! then i finished peeing and i used my sick ninja skills to leap onto his back and force his head into the toilet. FLUSSSSHHHH!!! he loved that shit. then he tore off his shirt and screamed “savor the flavor bitch, i’m god’s gift to women!” as he ran into the night.

benny the mooch was there and i think when he saw me he got confused or something because he introduced me to a. sinatose who i have known since like 1998 when i accosted him hauling sod at planters palate and told him i loved his fine injun skin.

Janine took us to hey wanna sher-a-punjab? or something. me and mandy had an eating contest. she didn’t know it was a contest so I pretty much won. she was so pissed she date raped me later. little did she know date rape totally turns me on and i was only pretending to be passed out. so i pretty much won again. fuck yes.

look at my hat, seriously i think i’m so fucking cute when i’m drunk. too bad there were no cheetos and even if there were they probably would have been doritos. the nacho cheesiest.


Saturday, May 07, 2005


gwen stefani is not cute.

at all.

i pretty much had an ultra delightful morning, which is hardly fair considering all the pain and suffering that is going on in the world, so i am listening to probably the awesomest song ever if today was opposite day, like for pennance.

i was going to link to it, but then i realized it is pretty much the equivalent of the brown note or whatever. seriously though, if my ears weren't bleeding i would probably be all LOL LOL ROFL LMAO LMFAO LOL (!!!) because the lyrics are like the funniest shit i've ever seen.

if only i had the funds for a japanese school girl assassin to leap onto the stage at the next MTV awards grabbing gwen stefani's scary white hair in one had while severing her head with a single swipe of her sword. blood would spring out of her neck like a fountain. it would rain down upon all of the harajuku girls.

i will put bindis all over her head and sell it on ebay.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

i am always like an action hero in my dream. like first it's just me driving around in some super awesome seventies style car with people shooting at me. one kid rides his bike up to my car and tries to shoot me in the face. of course i grab his gun out of his hand and pistol whip him with it all while driving, because that is what action heroes do.

there was a car chase and i drove into this crazy hidden tunnel where i had to make my plans to escape. the tunnel was made out of bricks and it was kind of wet and algae covered but there were all these people down there sitting around at these tall cafe style round tables playing cards and shit and they all wanted to help me escape for some reason. also this super powerful guy who was like running the whole show was down there. he was pretty much crazy about gambling and he was making bets with everyone about everything.

i think i was like fortifying my car with scarp metal or something and making plans with all these tunnel people about how i was going to escape. i'm pretty sure some important guy had a hit on me for some reason. i don't know why. i wasn't even from there, i think i was lost.

i ended up coming up with the brilliant idea of making a bet with the crazy underlord of gambling where i bet him i was going to die that night. it was like a gentleman's bet or whatever, because seriously that guy loved gambling so much he didn't even care if there was a prize. of course that guy didn't want to lose the bet so he and all his thugs protected me so i could make it out alive.

i must be a fucking genius in my dreams.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

seventh grade

me and my best friend were so fucking cool. all we used to do was put oil all over ourselves and lay around in her back yard and sometimes we would drink great bluedini koolaid and sometimes we would drink beer we stole from my dad.

we watched april fools alot, and denomic toys, and sat around in her birdie chair waiting for boys to call us. we could sneak in and out super easily. one time we snuck out to meet up with the son of her confirmation teacher. he had a portrait of a suffering jesus over his bed.

we also did stupid stuff like taking black and white pictures of hamburgers and thinking we were artistic or something.

one time we were at the pool and we saw this super fat little kid. like the fattest little kid ever. the kid totally had tits so of course i called him tittie boy. like a hundred times. i think his dad might have been video taping and i'm pretty sure he captured me on tape, calling his son tittie boy. too bad if i somehow went back in time and i saw myself doing that i probably would have pushed myself into the pool. i hope i didn't scar that kid for life, like he went home and started cutting himself and now he's an unemployed bulemic cutter or some shit.

kids are so fucking mean.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

the first boy i ever kissed had blond hair and a gap between his teeth and he could run really fast. it was at a block party so it was way too late but all of the grown ups were drunk and wearing shorts and not paying attention to us and we were playing ghosts in graveyard and it was dark but everyone had their christmas lights strung up from their porches to the streetlights like a canopy, even though it was summer. we were hiding under someone's porch and it was dirty and it smelled like wet leaves, probably because we were surrounded by them, covered in them. he was precocious.

i was kneeling on the floor getting some cereal out of the cabinet when my mom came in and told me he was dead. that was like three years later. i was eleven. i kept my head in the cabinet for a really long time trying not to cry. it made my throat hurt. then i ate some cinnamon toast crunch. it was beautiful outside that day.

i put my sleeves in my mouth while i cried. for some reason i thought it was really important that everyone thought i didn't care.

his best friend was never the same.

i walked around outside a lot and looked at the sky. i don't think there was a single cloudy day that summer.

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