Monthly Archives: July 2009

le fucking heat wave

posted by:  audra

oh, my little sweat-drenched parakeets…i am so.  over.  summer.

i’ve gone on & on about my distaste for hot, sunny weather before, but we’re in the throes of hell & i’m about to fucking lose it.  yesterday’s local forecast stated that portland would reach an all-time high of 107–the second highest in the nation, next to phoenix.  phoenix!  add to that a humidity level of over 70% or something ridiculous like that…well, my body & mind turn on me.

this whole week has been the worst week ever temperature-wise, but yesterday & last night were the absolute worstest.  at one point, it was 92 degrees in our apartment, and 106 on the patio…and that was around 7pm.  my back was sweating.  my forehead.  my neck.  behind my knees.  under & in-between my tits.  inner thighs…yeah, i totally had the meat-sweats.   and that was just from sitting!  the heat’s making me feel floopy enough to not even pour a drink until nearly 9pm.   and that’s just wrong.

last night, when i walked into our little oven of a home, i flicked on the telly.  there i see a message from comcast stating that there has ‘been an interruption in service’ & to ‘please contact a comcast service agent’.   this irritates me.  and even more so now that even my earlobes are glistening with sweat.

a couple of months ago, our cable provider switched to comcast digital cable.  our apartment management pays for this, or rather, it’s included in our rent.  we’ve never had to deal with the cable company directly–just plugging in the television is all the labor that’s needed on our end.   after the big digital change-over debacle, comcast provided our entire apartment community with cable boxes.  even for those with newer tellies, like us, so we’re able to pick up a few extra channels.  like oxygen, where i can masturbate to tori & dean: home sweet hollywood.

anyway, these cable boxes, while small & inconspicuous, still irritate the fuck out of me.  we have a lot of stuff, but it’s all arranged just so, and any additional clutter i can’t handle.  i knew they were trouble from the beginning.  but, last night instead of fighting with comcast, we watched mau mau sex sex, the skeleton key (shut up, it’s good!), and sideways.

sam & i hadn’t seen mau mau(2001) yet, so here’s a quick review:  if you luuurve vintage sexploitation & grindhouse films like we do, you will love it.  it’s a documentary about the godfathers (dan sonney & david friedman) of smutty independent cult films who made movies like my personal favorite, a smell of honey, a swallow of brine.  it tells the story of how they made the controversial risque films first, when no one else in the industry was doing so.  now (or at least in in 2001–dan has been deceased since 2002) they’re bumbling old men, bickering back & forth about pussy galore.  it’s good stuff, kids!  especially when you’re cable is out & you’re sweating like a greasy little piggie.

as of right this very second, our cable is fixed & i can somewhat breathe now…if it weren’t for the stifling heat, i’d be in good shape.  jesus…this was a lame post.  the lameness won’t last forever, babies.  promise!  we love you!

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goodwill cuntington

posted by:  audra

did you enjoy the play-by-plays of the vadge doctor experience?  of course you did!  everyone loves hearing about speculums & globs of blood flying out of a vagina!  or at least i do.  just sayin’.

i think i mentioned the other day about how we do have some other things going on…so, more antecedents for which we only seem to be lame as of late:

we’ve been so busy, biscuits & me.  why?  wait for it…we’re  finally moving.

i know, right?!  like, across town!  across a river even!  into a house!  and away from our le douche deluxe ‘hood!  where there are actual black people…even hipsters & hippies!   and where we are closer to a cute little co-op than we are to the nearest safeway.  sigh!  a bubbling dutch oven of braised culture & better fashion awaits us.  yes it does.

this, of course, has caused us to totally panic in anticipation, due to the enormous size of our collection of shit.  this house is way cuter and slightly bigger, but has way less storage.  it was built in 1917, so, that was way before it was common for the average gal to have 75 handbags & 90 pairs of shoes.

speaking of which–i cleaned out my closet last weekend.

don’t get all into a tizzy yet–i didn’t get rid of anything that good–mostly just a bunch of flats i used to wear to the winery.  some chunky heels i’ve been hanging onto since i was 19, too.  i also have this super-nice, but weird-fitting cocktail/halter dress.  it’s really cute on the hanger but exacerbates the genetic betrayal that is my legacy.  it’s been in my closet for 4 years.  the tags are still on it.  it was really fucking expensive.  i’ll probably never wear it.  i opted to keep it.

what i did get rid of:  15 leather handbags & 22 pairs of shoes…and then another 5 pairs i found later…as well as about half of my closet.  i mean, i only wear like, the same 4 rotating outfits anyway…my entire closet is literally jammed full, waaaay past its capacity, as is my dresser…and i never wear any of it.  ever.  i told sam on our 5th carload to the goodwill donation center, “so this is how cute things end up at the goodwill!”  it’s true.  attractive, stylish people who live in terrible, suburban neighbs inevitably have to get rid of large quantities of good shit when they move into an urban neighb.   if you’re ever in goodwill & see a really rad, vintage blue & white colander with a tiny bit of rust on it, it’s mine.  make the purchase & take care of her, please.

anywaysies…this darling little cottage-y structure has a yard, to make up for the extra closet space i’ll be missing.   i have lofty plans for the bare front walk & back patio, i do!   i’ve been the proverbial pent-up crazy plant lady in our building for nearly 8 years.  this year is the first year i haven’t really taken much care of the patio garden–empty urns & dried up chives–in wishful anticipation of moving, which now, of course, we are.  but the dead plants & empty pots are  super-embarrassing!  i’mma make up for it.  promise.  i’ve been dying for hydrangeas.  big ones.  and bee balm would be cute as a border.  and bleeding hearts in a shaded corner for spring?  my head may explode.   jesus.

going through all of our nearly-ten-years-of-built-up-shit has been quite the experience.  interesting stuff we’ve uncovered so far:

  • a dried-up wishbone from a chicken.  i’m pissed there was only one; i had several in a drawer & found just the one!  i’m not even kidding.   we were going to pin them on the wall.  it was going to be awesome.
  • the level that’s been m.i.a. for over a year
  • about a dozen books on hatha yoga, feng shui, astrology & dream analysis
  • an “empty” henckels knife box in the outside storage closet…meaning that it was likely once positioned by the front door for recycling after unboxing said knives, only to use it as a trash bin, fold it up & forget that i’d put trash in it, thus making it a “good box to use for whenever we move later”, putting it into storage & finding it filled with crumpled plastic wrap & butter wrappers 4 years later…oopsies.
  • an artificial christmas tree in 3 pieces
  • 2 sets of christmas ornaments even though we never put up a tree because i hate them
  • miles & miles of speaker wire
  • 1 mystery ac adapter
  • 10 or 11 crappy paintings i did between the ages of 17 & 22
  • the beastie boys licensed to ill on cassette
  • …as well as like, 200 other cassettes.  sam pared it down to around 50.
  • countless bar receipts from 2007, & then a batch of bank receipts from 2003
  • a picture of me at medieval times on my senior trip…shudder.
  • in an old handbag, i found a pre-sale slip from when i worked in the cookware department at meier & frank…in 2000(!) with some lady’s credit card information on it (oopsies!) & the item that she wanted:  a dansk pottery article of some sort.   service ware i think.   something ugly for sure.  the slip had a piece of chewed gum wadded up in it & a note that said, audra, please call me when this becomes available.   thank you, theresa.  i wonder if theresa ever came back for her item?
  • a mini bottle of pravda vodka
  • rough drafts of my 25th birthday party invitations & most of the rsvps…still scented with chanel!
  • 2 sets of pier 1 dishes stashed away that i’d thought we had gotten rid of like, 5 years ago
  • various broken bits of mystery items (plastic; multiple shapes & sizes) that were going to be fixed at one time
  • a bag of mixed european coins…mostly euros
  • a large mac cosmetics shipper containing a single mac compact that was shipped incorrectly to me…clearly the color was meant for a woman with much darker skin than mine.  i never returned it.  i’ve decided to keep it & use it as a bronzer.
  • some sort of bullet in my ‘special box’.  i suspect that a boy gave it to me as a token of affection to remember him by.  sadly, i don’t remember.
  • a concert ticket from 1998 at the tri-cities fairgrounds:  sugar ray, loudermilk…and much to my surprise spoon(?!).  i totally didn’t have any idea spoon had played that show!  my little buddy britt daniel & i go back way farther than i thought.
  • tons & tons of oil paint, acrylics, watercolors & brushes.   and tons & tons of bad art.

oh my god, you guys…i knew we had a lot of stuff…but this is ridiculous.  it’s bad.  i’m just impressed with ourselves that we could fit it all into 925 square feet!  it feels like grey gardens in there, only on a much smaller scale.  and much, much cleaner, of course.

…speaking of which!  did you see it?  we finally watched the new-ish grey gardens with jessica lange & drew barrymore for the first time.  it was sort of meh…  i think i was hoping for more reenactments of the documentary, rather than a movie-movie.  it was pretty good, but drew ruined it for me.  her portrayal of little edie is almost good, but she wrecks it with her voice & bad accent.  her face got in the way sometimes too.   jessica lange, on the other hand, totally fucking nailed big edie!  really frighteningly accurate performance.  amazing.   we ended up watching it twice, and i think as a whole, i liked it better the first time around.  the second time you tend to notice that it really is made for tv & it’s not so great.

oh my god, what if i planted all grey/silvery plants in a couple portions of the yard?  i could call it grey gardens.  ooh…  wait, is that dumb?  or brilliant?

anyway!  that’s that for now, my sweets.   i can’t promise there won’t be any big gaps from here on out…at least for awhile…your favorite little meat sticks are terribly busy as of late, and are going on a quick vacay next week.  pray to baby jeebus with me that the fucking weather will cool soon so that my thighs won’t stick together anymore, and that we’ll come home from seattle with tons & tons of debaucherous & entertaining stories for you!  you’re excited.

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vadge of honor

posted by:  audra

sigh…oh my god, you guys!  we’ve been so lame.  i think about blogging every day & nothing comes.  nothing!  i knew that bitching about broken shoes & such would get old.  and whilst i can’t think of anything remotely interesting & exciting that’s happened over the last week worth a blog post, i do have some  news, but nothing terribly  interesting & exciting.  …but i do promise you that sam is working on a most epic return, & it may even be a two or three-parter!  get excited!

actually, i take that back.  whilst i don’t have anything pretty, witty or gay to report, there has been some somewhat-exciting things happening.   here’s the first story:

i went to the gynecologist last-last tuesday.  a trip i’ve been dreading for years.   as much as i wanted to postpone it yet another five years, i think one more 14-day, bleeding-like-a-quintuplet-miscarriage-complete-with-excruciating-cramps-period would kill me.

so, i went doctor-shopping.  this was in april.  i picked one out: dr. stella.  she was young, but not too young, probably indian…red dot indian, not feather indian…and i liked her name; it made me think of perfume, beer & the band stellastarr*.   how bad can she be?!

when i went to make the appointment, dr. stella was not available…unless i wanted to wait six months…but i could certainly make an appointment with a mid-wife (dr. susan), if that was alright, but it would still be several weeks before i could get in.  sigh.  okay.  fine.

i looked at this one’s profile & she seemed nice.  husky, older, short hair…like she’d come home to her girlfriend named bo, fixing the roof while dr. susan was busy rooting around in vadges all day long.  dr. susan.  yes.  she would be mine.

when i arrived at the vagina doctor’s place on tuesday, i wasn’t impressed.  children everywhere, fat, unattractive pregnant women in sweatpants with hair like top ramen…god, it was terrible.  there was one “gentleman” wearing carhartt pants and these huge, black work-boots, which were unlaced of course.  his little boy ran, screaming towards me when i checked in at the front desk.  this horrified me, and i glared at the child.  the receptionist thought this was cute, & giggled.  as if every child who lets out a bloodcurdling screech at complete strangers is adorable.

this event is followed by, “oh, i’m sorry…dr. susan called in sick today!  we’ll have you with dr. oldpants, if that’s okay!  we’re transferring all of dr. susan’s patients over to dr. oldpants today!”

i sighed heavily, to let her know this is not okay, but said, “alright.  that’s fine.”  then she turned to her side, mumbling, “oh, there was supposed to be a new patient questionaire to fill out.  hmm.  not sure where it went.  oh well, just have a seat!”

sam & i had a “seat” on the gross chairs in the waiting area, probably teeming with child-bacteria.  and waited.  and waited.  i was told to arrive 20 minutes early in order to fill out the little questionnaire thingy, & so now i’m just wasting my time.  i could have slept an extra 20 minutes or even a half an hour.  don’t they have extra forms someplace?  one would think!

finally, after nearly 25 minutes of waiting, i hear something that resembles my name being called.  a short, thin, asian woman with shoulder length hair scans the room behind one of the partitions.  me, being short as well, is unseen behind said partition, even in heels.  so she keeps looking for me, “audwa?  audwa…?”

her name is trang.

totally really fucking annoyed at this point, i make it into the height/weight portion with trang.  she seems nice.  i notice that one of her eyes is lazy, and the lid is bulging, like a bee-sting.  i thought for a second that she indeed might have been stung by a bee, but later determined that she’s like that all the time.

she takes my blood pressure & pulse.  “oh, you berry nerbous to-day!”

of course i’m nervous.  but i’m mildly excited to meet this new, exotic, substitute doctor.  will she be pretty?  will she have a red dot on her forehead like dr. stella?

as soon as trang is through with asking me how much i drink & smoke, and how often i bleed buckets of blood, everything will be okay & my new doctor will arrive.  i’ll be in & out in minutes.

trang hands me a scratchy cape thing with a terrible pattern on it & says, “ebryting off!  doctor will be in berry soon.”  i thank her, and she exits.  curiously, the first place i start sweating when i nervous is the inner thighs.  it’s gross & it’s a curse.  so now i’m really freaking out.  pretty dr. mystery will completely recoil in disgust at my sweaty thighs & vadge, declaring she can’t possibly go any further unless i take a cold shower.  as soon as i got the little smock-cape thing on, i mopped up any suspicious sweat emanating from my body with the flowing skirt part.

a little rap at the door & someone steps in behind the curtain.  it was a really close call on the sweat-mopping situation.  THAT would have been really embarrassing.  i say a hello, and an odd looking old man in a white jacket appears.  fuck.  a man.

this is the moment i name him dr. oldpants.  a skanky female, probably 22 or 23, followed him in to watch, in case he’s super-friendly with the patients.

while i may have an inappropriate pipe dream about a super-sexy gynecologist giving me a thorough breast exam before burying his head between my thighs, i don’t really want it to happen.  i mean, come on!  especially when this guy comes in & is a total troll.  i may have to switch up my little chimera to be a dentist.  i’m ruined on gynos now.  but wouldn’t it be just as bad if he were super-hot?  i’d rather have an unattractive gynecologist than an attractive one…wouldn’t you?  god, what if lou pucci walked in with his white jacket & skinny jeans & stuck his speculum in my business & saw that i was wet?!  how fucking embarrassing!

anyway, what the fuck do men know about vadges anyway?  they could have all the schooling in the world, but still never really know what it’s like to have one.  you know?

i’m absolutely horrified & pissed.  clearly, had i wanted a male doctor, i would have requested one.  this isn’t really something you can just change, whenever, without proper notification, don’t you think?  right off the bat, i concluded that this guy is a real loser, with no sense of humor.  for example, when he asked me if i bruise easily, i said, “hmm…i don’t know…kind of?  i mean, not really…but i’m always kinda bruised up.  i mean, i am clumsy!”  and then i laughed nervously while he stared at me blankly, almost frowning, & scribbled something onto my chart.  my comment wasn’t funny, nor was it meant to be any sort of punchline, but a normal person would have given a polite smirk, or at least a knowing smile.  jesus!

skanky assistant leaves & trang is once again in the room with me & dr. oldpants, which was a little comforting.

i had juuust  gotten cozied into the stirrups when i blurted out that i was sorry if he’s offended, but i was totally expecting a woman.  of course, both trang & dr. oldpants freeze & stop what they’re doing, apologizing profusely.  trang is really upset by this, i can tell.  “oh my gosh, i so soddy!  i thought they toldoo?!”  i told her that indeed they had mentioned i would be seeing a different doctor…but wasn’t informed that this was a male doctor.  “oh, yoo want to reschedge-ull?”

she felt terrible.  i told them to just continue so i could get it over with.  of course, this whole conversation taking place with spread knees in the air, my special lady bits on public display.  she kept rubbing my shoulder, apologizing under her breath while dr. oldpants was discovering that i have a tipped cervix.  after he told me, “you may have a little spotting after the exam…”, she tucked a pink pantyliner into my hand & winked.  where does she expect me to put that?!, i thought.  didn’t she notice the absence of knickers in my pile of clothes on the chair?

after the examination, i got dressed & met with dr. oldpants in a borrowed office.  dr. stella’s office.   of course.  she wasn’t even there! probably off visiting her cool & pretty sisters in india.

he expressed heavy concern in regards to my obnoxious cunt-problems & asked that i come in for blood work in a week, and then a follow-up with him in a month.  gross.  i wonder if trang will be there?  will she slip me another pink pantyliner? 

the moral of the story, kids, is this:  if you have a super-bloody cunt & things that look like abortions are falling out of your junk, get it checked out!  especially if you’re soaking through a super-plus tampax AND your jeans in less than 20 minutes!  even if the doctor is a total bore, that doesn’t mean he’s a bad doctor!  he might even be good!  do you really want a doctor who monkeys around with you all the time, like sending emails saying, “i’m sorry, but you’re terminally ill with cancer of the uterus.  JK JK JK!!!!  it’s just a yeast infection!  LOL!!”

and there you have it.  take care of your special lady bits.

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shoe trouble

posted by:  audra

i didn’t think it was going to happen there for awhile, but! i have finally taken my beloved shoes into my favorite cobbler.  i attempted to take my broken, beloved shoes to the cobbler.  last night i went out of my way to drop off all of my precious cargo to be repaired.  well, three pairs at least.  and it was fucking closed.  againthis is the third time in a row that this has happened to me.  their hours on the door state that they are open until 6:00pm every night.  and every time i show up shortly after 5:00pm, there is a sign on the door saying “will return at 9:00am”  fucking hell!  are you fucking kidding me with this shit?  to make it worse, i’ve called.  and called.  and called their number & just gotten the answering machine–and this is even during normal business hours.  so i’m pissed.  i have no cute shoes to wear, & am in total panic about what shoes i could possibly wear on to go out with on saturday.

i did this to myself.  had i taken them in, one by one, as the heel pads crumbled, or even as the metal started to show, this could have been prevented.  but now, all my good shoes are fucked & i’m upset.

i could have taken in ten, & probably should have, but that will have to be another time.  that’s too many at once, ten.  just the three pairs alone scares me…one of which are my babies, the red marc jacobs that i lament over constantly.  the other two pairs have been broken for ever.  forever.  a weitzman & a fairly inexpensive square-toed joey o, both stilettos.

typically i’m not wild about weitzman shoes, what with all that bling & tack all over them, but these are perfect, pointy, black stilettos that i’ve had for years, and the heel has cracked once again.  also, the lining is falling apart.  and the joey o’s?  i got them for probably less than $100 like….four or five years ago.  i got them right before a birthday, & in typical new-shoe-fashion, i proceeded to get drunk one evening whilst galloping around the house in them.  “breaking them in”, i call it.  i then remember getting the brilliant idea of making one of my favorite dishes–buttered pasta with tons of kosher salt–right after midnight, as it was now officially my birthday.  i had romantic visions of sitting my then-much-thinner-ass down on the couch & devouring my pasta while staring at my shoes…and i’m pretty sure i was watching the beautiful girls dvd on repeat.  anyway, i peeled around the corner in the kitchen, probably scrambling for some butter, & one of the heels snapped off.

just like that.

it was a clean break.

i was so pissed.  and on my birthday!  ridiculous!  they were fairly cheap though.  and the heel was plastic.  plastic!  not even coated with leather!  anyway, i was so pissed that i threw them in my closet after only one wear & they haven’t seen the light of day until now.  even though they’re several years old, they are still really cute.  very smart looking, these are.  so, we’ll see how long they last at the hands of my cobbler.

my cobbler is a funny little man.  he looks exactly the way one would imagine a cobbler:  kind of short, old, long grey hair, round glasses…except this one smokes a lot of pot.  every time i go in there it’s like hotboxing.  sort of like tommy chong & geppetto from pinocchio had a baby & the baby opened a shoe repair shop.    the narcotic indulgence is fine with me–if one is at home, or hanging out with friends or something–but not when you’re holding a hammer & nail to my $500 shoes, thank you.  maybe it steadies his hands…?  eases his arthritis to get into the fine leather-work details of my footwear?  so far, no mistakes.  he does a beautiful job refurbishing where the back of the heel has become scuffed from driving & resoling where i’ve walked many a drunken step on cobbled sidewalks & gotten the heel lodged in a crack.

there are just two instances thus far where i thought i was going to have to hurt him:  the first was when the stitching was coming undone from the zipper pull on my large coach handbag.  i took it in to him, and a couple days later, it was ready.  i had sam go pick it up for me, but he couldn’t find it right away.  in fact, i believe he said it “wasn’t here”.  sam told him that it was a “big, black, leather handbag?  you redid the zipper pull?”  finally, after digging through stacks & stacks of bulky plain brown paper bags, he found it.  crisis averted.

the second time, i had taken in some nice michael kors heels.  not terribly high-end, but i love them & have had him resole them several times.  i went in to pick them up, the night i had to wear them.  i handed him my ticket and he said they weren’t ready.  he said, “oh, no, no.  those are gonna take me a few days.  i had to unscrew the heel & order a special fitting for them.  try back on tuesday.”

i was furious.  i barked at him spitting, “um, you told me you’d have them ready!  tonight!  by 4pm!  i need them tonight, and this is bullshit about unscrewing the heels.   you’ve worked on them before, and i’ve never had a problem.  just give me the shoes & i’ll take them elsewhere.  i’m not paying for your services.”

he held up the most hideous skank-deluxe strappy prom shoes i’ve ever seen…believing them to be mine.

i said, “those are not mine.   mine are the black pumps with studs?”

“oh…THOSE!  yes, of course!  they’re right here.  i just got done polishing them.  here you go.”

“oh!  they look purrfect.  thank  you so much.  have a great night!”

again with the pot-smoking during work hours!  jesus christ!  i almost had a shoe-aneurysm!   in a bad way!

his prices have gone up considerably since i started going to him a number of years ago, but his quality is well worth it.  currently, he’s charging $25 per pair for a new heel pad & half-sole, complete with a little metal tack in the toe to help prevent excess wear there, too…which is still ridiculously cheap compared to a new, $400 or $500 shoe.   i consider my shoes to be my children, so it’s kind of like taking them to the pediatrician; the little metal tack thing acting as a booster shot.  i’m a little hesitant, though, about the marc jacobs repair.  they’re my favorites, & they’ve never had to make a trip to the shoe doctor.  and now my shiny manolos are ruined, too.  however will he make the dull silver on the back of the heel gleam again?!  will he fuck up the suede leopard print lining?  oh jesus, i think my head may explode.  i’m shallow & materialistic like that.

so, wish me luck!  or, better yet, wish geppetto-chong-the-shoe-guy luck.   he fucks up & disfigures one of my babies, i’ll be driving one of those little shoe nails through his forehead.  if i can ever get in the fucking door.

i’ll keep you posted.

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halloween in july & public urination

posted by:  audra

inhale deeply, babycakes!  do you smell that?  yes, that!  it’s sweat!  probably inner-thigh sweat!  and gunpowder!  or whatever the fuck they put into firecrackers!  resonating off of the stupid fucks who still think it’s awesome to be igniting fireworks well after independence day has taken place.  jesus.  i was fucking dying in the heat last week & i hate the fourth of july & i can’t wait for summer to be over already. and i can’t wait for the crumb-snatchers to get back to school.   i mean, jesus christ!  and i really am looking forward to those fall days where the sun is juuust going down at like 6:00 & you need your sweater to carve pumpkin trannies on your patio before watching sorority house massacre (1 or 2…both are excellent) for the fifth time whilst drinking pumpkin beer on the couch.  you know what i mean?  sigh…

you may be surprised to learn that the fourth of july used to be my favorite holiday.  it was.  believe it!  i was young…a tender 17 at best, and lived for it.  you know why?  because it was right in the midst of summer when it starts getting really hot.  the hotter the better, i thought.  god, what a moron i was.  now, if it gets over 70 degrees, i spazz out & develop hives (really!).  but when i was younger, even 98 wasn’t hot enough.

i would lay out in the sun forever…sometimes all day, on the roof.  and sometimes i would purposely burn myself…which wasn’t hard to do anyway, what with my fair, easy-to-burn complexion.  i thought that if i got just a slight burn, that it would make my skin more likely to tan the next time around(?!).  and then i would hit the tanning bed in the evening, just to be sure.  so gross.  it ended up just giving me tons of freckles & prematurely aging skin.  tanning is bad shit, kids!

whoa…what was that all about?!  anyway, your most beloved blog has been neglected as of late.  i’m sorry.  how is it you’ve been able to carry on?!  to satiate you, i’ll give you a few highlights from the recent past…stuff that happened & valuable nuggets of knowledge that i learned:

  • i peed in a cemetery.  i did.  in broad daylight & not even behind a tree.
  • i got drunk in said cemetery.  with my parents.  on courvoisier.  during a memorial service.  in 100 degree heat.  it was awesome.
  • sam & i drunkenly devoured cold fried chicken in my mom & dad’s driveway at midnight on saturday after frenzied, secretive chain-smoking.
  • we discovered we are indeed capable of 3-day benders.
  • surprisingly, the bender & being at my parents house are unrelated.
  • …in one instance, sam & i drank continuously for 25 hours straight.  vodka, beer, tequila and wine.  not one person out of the four of us was sick or fell down.  i’m impressed.
  • i ruined the heel on one of my betsey johnson booties during said bender.
  • i peed outside on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere.  again.  and managed to splatter my shoes.  again.
  • i bought a leopard print handbag with a gold chain at a yard sale for $3. i will probably never use it.
  • i learned that my great-great grandfather was an immigrant from sweden.
  • …and that my great-grandfather only had a 3rd grade education, but was very successful as the head of immigration & naturalization for oregon, washington & idaho.
  • it’s official:  i am allergic to sun.  i sat in the sun two weekends in a row & both times broke out in terrible, itchy welts & hives.  it was gross.  they’re gone now, but the freckles will take years to fade.  damn it.
  • i am on my fourth augusten burroughs book in about a month.  i’m in love with his writing…and i may even say that i like him more than sedaris(!).  i know…blasphemy.  but he’s so fucking amazing & hilarious & tragic.  i can’t believe we’ve owned several of his books for years & are just now cracking open the covers.
  • foreign horror films are a gabillion times better than american horror films, as you learned from watching them, of course.  we just watched a german thriller called antibodies (antikörper) that was over two hours long…and didn’t turn it off.  a lot of blood, a little sex, some pedophilia & plenty of nail-biting scenes.  lovely…just lovely.
  • i have purchased a new journal.  it’s black & looks like a bible, only without words & a cross & a mostly-naked hipster on the cover.  i read through one of my old journals the other night & realized that i’m not bad at writing…at least when i want to be.  i had written some “poetry” that actually kind of blew my mind a little bit!  either way, this new journal will no doubt soon possess some wicked awesome tales to help fill in my memoirs later.  get excited.
  • i’m pretty sure i’ve gained back at least the two pounds i had lost.  i’m afraid to weigh myself.  i’ve consumed nothing but booze, burgers, hot dogs, fried chicken & pizza the past week.  oh, and pigs in a blanket courtesy of the florida room.  how very american of me.

and there you have it!  i think that’s all.  i don’t know about you all, but i plan on milking this 68-degrees-in-july business for as long as i can.  perhaps i’ll pick up some pumpkin beer tonight, pull on a sweater, pretend it’s october & dig out sorority house massacre , just for fun…

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