did i mention that my shirt is too tight?
On a hillside desolate....oh, nature. I could be outside, riding my bike, enjoying what could possibly be the last not hot as H-O-T-T heat, but instead, I choose to stay inside and do three loads of laundry, listening to the smiths and wondering if it's really the trots I've got, or if I just have been needing to poop. Rapidly and with gusto. What? You can't handle that? Fuck. You.
New York was a motherfuckin hit, no doubt. Let's see if I can run it down and turn this entry into a really big, cracked out one, that "you" have all heard either in its entirety or in snippets. Regardless, I'm sure it's going to blow your mind.
Marie, Belle and I hit the road on Tuesday morning about 8:30, busting through Illinois, Indiana (oh Indiana, you want me there! The slogan for Indiana should be "I opt for Indiana" if you were to ask me), Ohio, Pennsylvania (fooling us with the pretty afternoon wildflowers in between the highways and lush green hills, turning into night, where no flowers could be seen, but there were plenty of carcasses on the highway in place of flowers, and oh yea, there was construction for about 18,000 miles and it was dark and it was narrow and I might have been high), New Jersey (Jersey represent fools! That's my birthplace! State of disrespect from all others, the state with the CUTEST names for townships, the state that I see no wrong in) and finally, the ol' NYC. We entered into Spanish Harlem around 1-something in the a.m. and spent the night with Colin's friend Lee at him and his roommate's townhouse. It was very nice, spacious and they were good hosts. Of course, it was only a night.....Wednesday I woke up to my friend Dan blowing up my cell and hopped onto a cab to see him and James' digs in Nolita which, minus the six floor walk-up (you heard me, six flights had to be taken to get up in there, and in case you didn't know, this hear asshole is known for smoking mad cigarettes, being out of shape AND a big whiner to boot; it was hot), was a real quaint apartment. Us two badasses headed to a joint called Cafe Habana to meet up with this boy John for some brunching action and then bummed around Nolita a bit, Soho, Chinatown and the fashiony area where not only did I get to feel like a total hobo in Gucci, we also saw Willie Smith with Eva Mendes (the back of her) filming some final scenes or whatever for the upcoming sci-fi sure-to-be blockbuster, "I, Robot." What a stupid, stupid name for a movie. I'm sure he'll rack in millions for this one. Anyway. I got "shhhhh'd" from some crew guy for being all "Ooooooooooooooh" when told what all the crowd commotion was about. I'm totally hip. Met up with James, the other half of Dan, and back to their apartment for some chillaxin' and helpin' them pack as they were off to Chicago the following morning. I somehow talked Dan into taking the train with me up to the Bronx to Marie&Colin's apartment (which I hadn't peeped out just yet) so I could see them, regroup and get my shit as I was staying with the boys in big, bad Manhattan. Three hours later, or so it seemed, we're going back up those 6 flights of stairs to no, not go out, but to instead, enjoy each other's company (this may sound sarcastic, but I'm being sincere) and drink a few, smoke some and watch tv. James and I ended up staying up way past his bedtime to watch the ending of what we had started, "Flowers in the Attic." That's probably one of the worst adaptations EVER. There was absolutely NO sex between Christopher and Cathy, the brother and sister duo that heroically get the hell outta grandma's house with their little sister (so sad about whatever the "C" named twin bro that had to go, and by go, I mean he got BURIED by mom) to raise one of the most fucked up families in story land, thus ruining any young girl's dreams of romance and chances of what's considered "normal" in traditional boy/girl relationships. "Mom, why can't I be with my brother forever? No. Be With." What? I digress.......the next morning, I woke up to an empty chateau as both the boys and the damn dog, were on planes to the city I'll be visiting at the end of this here month, the city where slaughterhouses were no joke, Chicago. I met up with this girl that I know from Chicago, Keri, who now lives in Brooklyn and we walked the many blocks to St. Mark's Place for some lovely Mediterranean fare from Cafe Mogador (sp). After that, Keri felt the burning sensation deep in her loins, so we made a pit stop to her pad in the BK and hung out there, talking about boys and what not. Realizing that I have to be at Grand Central Station in less than an hour, we jetted out of there to take a few trains down to the GCS where I made it on time to take the Metro North up to the Bronx. That evening, me and my gracious hosts went out to dinner at some Chinaman place near their house, with a friend Lee in tow (we were taking her to JFK), went to aforementioned airport, stopped off on our way in to some pizza joint so I could get a slice (like I really eat Chinese food) and then we hung out in their apartment with no tv, a little radio and the only furniture in sight was 2 air mattresses. The next morning, we headed to a local bagel joint and got basically yelled at for not being in the know of what we wanted RIGHT AWAY and I totally panicked and got a "plain with American cheese" thinking, like a total idiot apparently, that the shit got toasted. Who wants a dry ass cold bagel with cheese? I suppose that I did, in retrospect. No matter, we hopped into the Mini and headed to New Jersey (hells YEA!) to check out IKEA so those two babies could get some home furnishings and to burn away about 5 or 6 hours....that said, that night turned out to not go as exactly planned and we ended up cleaning the hell out of their apartment (three hours in the kitchen, Marie and I spent, while Colin braved their bathroom) and then turning in after having some Mexican delivered to us. That almost seems like we had a Mexican escort delivered to us. Just food, dicks. So then on Saturday, my last official day in the state of New York, we headed into the city via bus, via train to the meatpacking district to see abovementioned Keri at her job (she had called the previous night, totally wasted, yelling at me for not making it to some party that I had no idea for real about), Stella McCartney. Those girls that work there, minus Keri thank God, were stupid super skinny. I can't gauge which eating disorder they have since I don't know them, but I'm thinking anorexia for some reason. Or maybe they do the "Chew&Spit Out" disorder. I believe in some circles, they call that "CUD." Regardless, all those bangs! The same scenester hairstyle! The semi low-rise jeans with pointy shoes! Girls! Again, I'm just a simple hobo from the Midwest, but STILL. Anyhoo. We said our good-byes and headed out up the street where I saw....Drea de Matteo from HBOs Sopranos. Very exciting! She wasn't wearing acrylics, lots of make up and her hair wasn't big. Had lunch in Gramercy (Park South? Same difference, I think) at L'Express where the burger was verrry delicious and the Lambic was FOURTEEN DOLLAR$ a bottle. Whoa. It's just flavored beer after all, made by the folks who bring you St. Ide's. I had water and I'm still opting for Indiana, fyi. After that, we took a cab over to Washington Square Park to do a little touristy shit in the way of watching non-white boys doing crazy acrobatic shit for money and having some ice cream, or rather, a three stage bomb pop, left there, bummed around the campus of NYU and then headed over to Urban Outfitters where I bought a retarded cute purse. Check out the Le Sport Sac website and it's the Nolita Tote or something, in the suburban design I think. Did some more bumming, headed over to Canal St., made a few friends that may or may not have had drinking problems (my porkchop brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like, it's better than yours - - - sing that instead and thank me later. remember to give me full credit when making yourself giggle to no end), got a few NY-inspired things and then we took the train to a cab back to their apartment to freshen up for going out for dinner. We drove back into the city a few later, had dinner in the West Village at John's Pizzeria (delightful!) and people watched as the people were OUT. Went to a dessert bar whose name I can't remember, met up with Colin's friend Lee, I drank, they had sweets, I drank more, we left, I last remember saying something probably about getting fingered, and passing out on the couch. I came to and went to bed where things got spinny, I wondered about vomit and I couldn't get up to turn the light out. It was a gas. Next morning I woke up earlier than usual as I was sweating like a slave, showered, packed up my stuff and then we headed to La Guardia for my 11:30 a.m. flight. And that, my friends, was my trip to NYC in brief. If you care for a longer, perhaps more detailed version with some boring shit in between, you know how to find me.
Just got back to work today (no, I'm not there now, I'm at HOME, dummies) [Wednesday] and it wasn't so bad. No, not at all. I'd write about the 4th of July, but it's just a holiday after all. Who cares about independence? It's SO last year. Plus, it involves details that my poor darling wrists aren't up to sputtering out. Coming soon.......Oh, I did see "Spiderman-2" last night with Rootz. It was exactly as I had expected it to be. At some points, you (or me) want to just make out with Tobey, but then you see those really thin lips and you just want to hold him. I don't know. It could be that his voice is so soft and well, soft. But of course, I'd totally fuck him. He's FAMOUS, I'd have no choice in the matter. But I wouldn't fuck say, Vin Diesel, he's not really famous. Plus, he won't even tell anyone what the hell he is, as if that's supposed to be intriguing. Omigod, I totally want to fuck the shit out of Vin Diesel if only he'll tell me WHAT THE HELL HE IS, BLACK, WHITE, PUERTO RICAN, BELIZIAN, FROM ARKANSAS. Back to Spidey, for one second, I'm going to do some serious shout-outing to James De Franco cause I think he deserves it with his smolder, his wet lips, that sneer. The thing is, I'm not even really all that "horny" or whatever right now, I'm really just giving some props to cute boys of recent past that I don't know at all. It's easier that way to crush on celebrities. Ya know, cause they don't know me and vice versa.
Breakthrough! I didn't have a little mini panic attack in the airport as I'm normally wont to do, so I guess it's safe to say that I'm not That Scared To Fly Any Longer. Of course, it's not like I really have ANY sort of REAL money to be going anywhere, but it's still good to know that I've somehow overcome that. Maybe it was all in my mind. Or I'm shitting it out right now. Or rather, moments ago. Undeniably hot I am right now. I am undeniably hot right now. Right now I am undeniably hot. I am, right now, undeniably hot. Now, I am undeniably hot, right?
Someone, please shoot this girl. Right in the throat. So, I miss my friends. There. I said it. Fucking SUE me. Most Wednesday nights, you'd find me over at Lot 24, sneaking Belle a treat that I created specially for her, watching some horrible home shopping network, instead you can find me in St. Louie, not having any fun with guns, but rather, in my bedroom, singing along to Moz, doing load after load of laundry, and even in a more desperate move, updating my BLOG. Fuck. I guess I don't have the funds to buy a life either.
New York was a motherfuckin hit, no doubt. Let's see if I can run it down and turn this entry into a really big, cracked out one, that "you" have all heard either in its entirety or in snippets. Regardless, I'm sure it's going to blow your mind.
Marie, Belle and I hit the road on Tuesday morning about 8:30, busting through Illinois, Indiana (oh Indiana, you want me there! The slogan for Indiana should be "I opt for Indiana" if you were to ask me), Ohio, Pennsylvania (fooling us with the pretty afternoon wildflowers in between the highways and lush green hills, turning into night, where no flowers could be seen, but there were plenty of carcasses on the highway in place of flowers, and oh yea, there was construction for about 18,000 miles and it was dark and it was narrow and I might have been high), New Jersey (Jersey represent fools! That's my birthplace! State of disrespect from all others, the state with the CUTEST names for townships, the state that I see no wrong in) and finally, the ol' NYC. We entered into Spanish Harlem around 1-something in the a.m. and spent the night with Colin's friend Lee at him and his roommate's townhouse. It was very nice, spacious and they were good hosts. Of course, it was only a night.....Wednesday I woke up to my friend Dan blowing up my cell and hopped onto a cab to see him and James' digs in Nolita which, minus the six floor walk-up (you heard me, six flights had to be taken to get up in there, and in case you didn't know, this hear asshole is known for smoking mad cigarettes, being out of shape AND a big whiner to boot; it was hot), was a real quaint apartment. Us two badasses headed to a joint called Cafe Habana to meet up with this boy John for some brunching action and then bummed around Nolita a bit, Soho, Chinatown and the fashiony area where not only did I get to feel like a total hobo in Gucci, we also saw Willie Smith with Eva Mendes (the back of her) filming some final scenes or whatever for the upcoming sci-fi sure-to-be blockbuster, "I, Robot." What a stupid, stupid name for a movie. I'm sure he'll rack in millions for this one. Anyway. I got "shhhhh'd" from some crew guy for being all "Ooooooooooooooh" when told what all the crowd commotion was about. I'm totally hip. Met up with James, the other half of Dan, and back to their apartment for some chillaxin' and helpin' them pack as they were off to Chicago the following morning. I somehow talked Dan into taking the train with me up to the Bronx to Marie&Colin's apartment (which I hadn't peeped out just yet) so I could see them, regroup and get my shit as I was staying with the boys in big, bad Manhattan. Three hours later, or so it seemed, we're going back up those 6 flights of stairs to no, not go out, but to instead, enjoy each other's company (this may sound sarcastic, but I'm being sincere) and drink a few, smoke some and watch tv. James and I ended up staying up way past his bedtime to watch the ending of what we had started, "Flowers in the Attic." That's probably one of the worst adaptations EVER. There was absolutely NO sex between Christopher and Cathy, the brother and sister duo that heroically get the hell outta grandma's house with their little sister (so sad about whatever the "C" named twin bro that had to go, and by go, I mean he got BURIED by mom) to raise one of the most fucked up families in story land, thus ruining any young girl's dreams of romance and chances of what's considered "normal" in traditional boy/girl relationships. "Mom, why can't I be with my brother forever? No. Be With." What? I digress.......the next morning, I woke up to an empty chateau as both the boys and the damn dog, were on planes to the city I'll be visiting at the end of this here month, the city where slaughterhouses were no joke, Chicago. I met up with this girl that I know from Chicago, Keri, who now lives in Brooklyn and we walked the many blocks to St. Mark's Place for some lovely Mediterranean fare from Cafe Mogador (sp). After that, Keri felt the burning sensation deep in her loins, so we made a pit stop to her pad in the BK and hung out there, talking about boys and what not. Realizing that I have to be at Grand Central Station in less than an hour, we jetted out of there to take a few trains down to the GCS where I made it on time to take the Metro North up to the Bronx. That evening, me and my gracious hosts went out to dinner at some Chinaman place near their house, with a friend Lee in tow (we were taking her to JFK), went to aforementioned airport, stopped off on our way in to some pizza joint so I could get a slice (like I really eat Chinese food) and then we hung out in their apartment with no tv, a little radio and the only furniture in sight was 2 air mattresses. The next morning, we headed to a local bagel joint and got basically yelled at for not being in the know of what we wanted RIGHT AWAY and I totally panicked and got a "plain with American cheese" thinking, like a total idiot apparently, that the shit got toasted. Who wants a dry ass cold bagel with cheese? I suppose that I did, in retrospect. No matter, we hopped into the Mini and headed to New Jersey (hells YEA!) to check out IKEA so those two babies could get some home furnishings and to burn away about 5 or 6 hours....that said, that night turned out to not go as exactly planned and we ended up cleaning the hell out of their apartment (three hours in the kitchen, Marie and I spent, while Colin braved their bathroom) and then turning in after having some Mexican delivered to us. That almost seems like we had a Mexican escort delivered to us. Just food, dicks. So then on Saturday, my last official day in the state of New York, we headed into the city via bus, via train to the meatpacking district to see abovementioned Keri at her job (she had called the previous night, totally wasted, yelling at me for not making it to some party that I had no idea for real about), Stella McCartney. Those girls that work there, minus Keri thank God, were stupid super skinny. I can't gauge which eating disorder they have since I don't know them, but I'm thinking anorexia for some reason. Or maybe they do the "Chew&Spit Out" disorder. I believe in some circles, they call that "CUD." Regardless, all those bangs! The same scenester hairstyle! The semi low-rise jeans with pointy shoes! Girls! Again, I'm just a simple hobo from the Midwest, but STILL. Anyhoo. We said our good-byes and headed out up the street where I saw....Drea de Matteo from HBOs Sopranos. Very exciting! She wasn't wearing acrylics, lots of make up and her hair wasn't big. Had lunch in Gramercy (Park South? Same difference, I think) at L'Express where the burger was verrry delicious and the Lambic was FOURTEEN DOLLAR$ a bottle. Whoa. It's just flavored beer after all, made by the folks who bring you St. Ide's. I had water and I'm still opting for Indiana, fyi. After that, we took a cab over to Washington Square Park to do a little touristy shit in the way of watching non-white boys doing crazy acrobatic shit for money and having some ice cream, or rather, a three stage bomb pop, left there, bummed around the campus of NYU and then headed over to Urban Outfitters where I bought a retarded cute purse. Check out the Le Sport Sac website and it's the Nolita Tote or something, in the suburban design I think. Did some more bumming, headed over to Canal St., made a few friends that may or may not have had drinking problems (my porkchop brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like, it's better than yours - - - sing that instead and thank me later. remember to give me full credit when making yourself giggle to no end), got a few NY-inspired things and then we took the train to a cab back to their apartment to freshen up for going out for dinner. We drove back into the city a few later, had dinner in the West Village at John's Pizzeria (delightful!) and people watched as the people were OUT. Went to a dessert bar whose name I can't remember, met up with Colin's friend Lee, I drank, they had sweets, I drank more, we left, I last remember saying something probably about getting fingered, and passing out on the couch. I came to and went to bed where things got spinny, I wondered about vomit and I couldn't get up to turn the light out. It was a gas. Next morning I woke up earlier than usual as I was sweating like a slave, showered, packed up my stuff and then we headed to La Guardia for my 11:30 a.m. flight. And that, my friends, was my trip to NYC in brief. If you care for a longer, perhaps more detailed version with some boring shit in between, you know how to find me.
Just got back to work today (no, I'm not there now, I'm at HOME, dummies) [Wednesday] and it wasn't so bad. No, not at all. I'd write about the 4th of July, but it's just a holiday after all. Who cares about independence? It's SO last year. Plus, it involves details that my poor darling wrists aren't up to sputtering out. Coming soon.......Oh, I did see "Spiderman-2" last night with Rootz. It was exactly as I had expected it to be. At some points, you (or me) want to just make out with Tobey, but then you see those really thin lips and you just want to hold him. I don't know. It could be that his voice is so soft and well, soft. But of course, I'd totally fuck him. He's FAMOUS, I'd have no choice in the matter. But I wouldn't fuck say, Vin Diesel, he's not really famous. Plus, he won't even tell anyone what the hell he is, as if that's supposed to be intriguing. Omigod, I totally want to fuck the shit out of Vin Diesel if only he'll tell me WHAT THE HELL HE IS, BLACK, WHITE, PUERTO RICAN, BELIZIAN, FROM ARKANSAS. Back to Spidey, for one second, I'm going to do some serious shout-outing to James De Franco cause I think he deserves it with his smolder, his wet lips, that sneer. The thing is, I'm not even really all that "horny" or whatever right now, I'm really just giving some props to cute boys of recent past that I don't know at all. It's easier that way to crush on celebrities. Ya know, cause they don't know me and vice versa.
Breakthrough! I didn't have a little mini panic attack in the airport as I'm normally wont to do, so I guess it's safe to say that I'm not That Scared To Fly Any Longer. Of course, it's not like I really have ANY sort of REAL money to be going anywhere, but it's still good to know that I've somehow overcome that. Maybe it was all in my mind. Or I'm shitting it out right now. Or rather, moments ago. Undeniably hot I am right now. I am undeniably hot right now. Right now I am undeniably hot. I am, right now, undeniably hot. Now, I am undeniably hot, right?
Someone, please shoot this girl. Right in the throat. So, I miss my friends. There. I said it. Fucking SUE me. Most Wednesday nights, you'd find me over at Lot 24, sneaking Belle a treat that I created specially for her, watching some horrible home shopping network, instead you can find me in St. Louie, not having any fun with guns, but rather, in my bedroom, singing along to Moz, doing load after load of laundry, and even in a more desperate move, updating my BLOG. Fuck. I guess I don't have the funds to buy a life either.
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