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Friday, July 29, 2005

if i could play any part in any musical/rock opera in all the world, i would want to play hedwig.


there's just something about having an angry inch that i think would be really fun. plus, those wigs have to be a blast... and i bet you could get away with doing the whole show while completely blitzed.


i'd probably get cast as mark cohen, though.





curse you, jew nose, curse you.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

my blog can be found by googling "fixes for curved penises".



i find that amusing.


thank you, blogpatrol.

the graveyard shift insecurity guard fell asleep at the monitor again...



i'm my own worst, nagging ex-girlfriend. that little voice in the back of my head that says i'm not enough... he'll want something else. something more.


i am having a bit of difficulty handling that, for the joseph, we are, thus far, his shortest serious relationship by far, while, for me, we are my longest. his shortest relationship prior to ours lasted 1 and a half years. his longest ended just past the 3 year mark.

i've never been with someone more than a month.


i'm not sure why it's bothering me or even what it is about it that bothers me... if anything, he should be the one experiencing anxiety and a tender nervous condition... afterall, i'm clearly the floozie in this relationship. but, alas, it's me.

i can't help but feel that i don't have what it takes to keep someone around that long. that i lack the right amount of mystery and emotion to go 100,000 miles without a check-up... err, break-up. i don't have enough smoke or mirrors to make it that long. my wit eventually runs out. my phenomenal blowjobs become routine. at some point down the line, i will become ordinary. inevitably, i will be the everyday... and somehow i'm supposed to overcome that and keep his interest.

i shudder to think he'll have to like me for me.




maybe i should learn to juggle.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

spy baby!





maybe they'll name it sven...

some poignant relationship advice from the roommate, ms. molly:

if someone's putting their dick in you, i suppose you should like them... a lot...







as spoken to me, last night, in the car after eating taco bell and in response to my insecurities about "relationship brett"

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

a new way of looking at movies as escapism...


tonight, molly and i (and possibly joe) are heading down to grant park to watch e.t. under chicago's watchful eye. we'll eat. we'll drink. we'll sit on the big red blanket. we'll see drew barrymore just before she slipped into drug addiction. we'll take part in a chicago tradition.

perhaps we're finally chicagoans... at last denizens of the windiest of cities... after all this time truly settling into our surroundings, embracing our fair city and enjoying all it has to offer...






nah, we just can't take the heat in our stinkin' apartment.

hooray for more heat-induced quality time with the mollster!




edit: ...and then it rained. blast!

not another brett movie post


before we saw "wedding crashers", molly and i went to the christian bale show. i think it was called "batman benign" or something like that.

needless to say, i wasn't that impressed. it was entertaining - i will admit. clearly, christian bale didn't hurt its standing either, but i want more from movies than entertainment. it's just not enough.

what i did learn from this movie, though, is that while batman may have muscles and martial arts and cars and gadgets and models for girlfriends and a super hot gay name in the real world (helloooooo, bruce wayne), he does not have the smarts that i do. while he was busy chasing down his trainjacking nemesis, i would have called the damn cta and cut the power to the train.


i hope i didn't hurt his feelings. if i did, though, i'd be more than happy to kiss and make up.

Monday, July 25, 2005

"true love is the soul recognizing its counterpoint in another."




a daily dose of wisdom from "wedding crashers"

Friday, July 22, 2005

my boyfriend's back from asia!

my boyfriend's back from asia!

my boyfriend's back from asia!





don't worry, i've stocked up on gatorade.








edit to say: woot for my 100th post!

Thursday, July 21, 2005

please, like i don't read


in the past few months, i've read like 4 books. this is a lot for me, as this young lad isn't really much of a reader. i like the idea of reading. i like the sort of cerebral quality reading gives you in the eyes of others. i like that people think i look like i read because my hipster glasses suggest i work in a borders or b&n. i like buying books and owning books and working books into decorating schemes. i like knowing about things that only books can teach you. i like exploring the ways language can make you feel and sense. i like plunging into an author's ideas of the world and life. i like the idea of reading... but reading makes me sleepy.

so like i said, for me to have read like 4 books in 3 months is a big deal. i'm on the make to improve that number, though.


it seems that lately i've had a thing for books with surprise endings... or at least endings that are surprising.

i started my long journey into readerhood with "the curious incident of the dog in the night-time" by mark haddon.

the book was a christmas present from my parents that i picked out myself. just like most of my christmas presents... really from anyone. regardless, it appealed to me because it took place in suburbs surrounding london (perhaps somewhere near the "party" i went to in zone 6 one night a long, long time ago) and the cover of the book was orange with a cutout of a poodle. i'm such a sucker for a good bookcover.

the story follows an autistic boy who lives alone with his father after his mother's death. when their neighbor's dog is viciously killed, christopher decides to do some sleuthing and catch the culprit. through his detective work, christopher explores the range of human emotion and uncovers some secrets better left buried.

the story is fresh and insightful, with christopher as one of the most unique and well-voiced narrators since holden caulfield (though i hated "the catcher in the rye"). haddon's depiction of the world from christopher's perspective, lacking a true understanding of people and their interactions but with an almost eerie grasp on mathematics and the relationships between numbers, is spot on. i practically felt autistic throughout the course of the book.

from autism, i moved to zoology and theology with "the life of pi" by yann martel. i'm not entirely sure what drew me to this book, as it certainly was not the author's photo on the back cover. ouch. however, according to amazon, i'm not incorrect in moving from haddon's novel to this one. apparently, others who bought "the curious incident of the dog in the night-time" also purchased "the life of pi". i'll leave it at that.

tlop is a complicated story. it follows, well, the life of pi. from his childhood in india to his late adulthood in canada. mostly, though, the book deals with pi's adventures in faith and on the high seas. pi was a christian, a muslim, and a hindu. he forged his religion from the shared heritage of these faiths and the knowledge they have to share about our world. had they jews in india, he'd probably be one of those, too. regardless, pi's ideas about what religion truly is and how faith should operate in our ever imploding world were thought-provoking and steadfast.

pi's not-so-cookie cutter faith was put to the test when, upon a his family's move from inida to canada, their ship meets a tragic destination, putting pi in a lifeboat with an orangutan, an injured zebra, a hyena, and a tiger by the name of richard parker. the tale of pi's trek across the pacific accounts for the bulk of the book. martel details pi's days... how he caught food, how he acquired drinking water, how he maintained his sanity, and how he kept a hungry tiger at bay. pi's adventure is so vivid, so real, i often found myself looking to others on the l for compassion or understanding of what pi and i were going through... together. needless to say, pi makes it to canada in the long run, but how this book ends left me devastated and thirsty... begging pi for something more.

i hopped from a boy and his tiger in "the life of pi" to a tiger changing its stripes in "middlesex: a novel" by jeffrey eugenides, the author of "the virgin suicides" (one of my all-time favorite movies, though i've never read the book). in his latest, the winner of the pulitzer prize, eugenides follows several members of the stephanides family, a greek immigrant family based in detroit, but more closely he follows calliope, the third-generation "daughter" of many years of inbreeding. told from calliope's perspective as a middle-aged man, the reader is led along from her first birth as a baby girl to her rebirth into malehood as an early teenager, for calliope was not only the daughter of inbreeding but also the son... a hermaphrodite.

the story is epic... not only in length, but in structure. eugenides employs so much of the greek tradition in the creation of calliope's story. the sins of the father, well, parents, haunt their children. motifs play out again and again, forcing generation after generation to encounter the same decisions and choices. no great gain is not accompanied by great loss. and the ending is neither climactic nor unexpected but after such an emotional whirlwind, the solace was welcome no matter how unsatisfying. homer could not have written a better odyssey.

from the greek isles and detroit, i hopped over to the isle of great britain and hogwarts. why, i read "harry potter and the half-blood prince" next, of course. in less than 24 hours. on a weekend.

yes, i'm a geek... and i loved every minute of it. even those 15 minutes where i debated whether or not i hallucinated someone yelling "help me" from somewhere within or around our apartment.

what can i say, harry was in a tight spot at that point.

regardless, i'll trade childish flights of fancy for hermaphrodites and autism any day of the week.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

i know that i am in a wickedly bad mood when even retail therapy fails to turn my frown upside down.


yes, i went shopping after work.
yes, i spent money i do not have... well, figuratively speaking.
yes, i splashed out on something designer.
yes, i even bought a new pair of shoes.

no, i do not feel better.


bogus.
shopping has always worked in the past because it usually replaces my foul attitude with palpable guilt.



i need tequila and my friends from junior year of college.

too bad i'm drastically low on both.

for a lot of reasons, i've been feeling a little like i used to in high school.

like the less-than-pretty, slightly awkward girl who no one wants to be friends with, date, or fuck.



i feel left out. i feel jealous. i feel cheated.


and it's all incredibly stupid and juvenile.


...but since it is apparently a self-pity day, here, at the good ole blog, a list of personal hates of mine...

i hate that i missed anne's birthday party because of the hate after next...
and i hate having like 1 guy friend whom i only slightly get along with (but yes, i love my many many girlfriends... why can't you gals have penises?)...
and i hate getting food poisoning over the weekend because i'm retarded and ate something that apparently was secretly growing mold...
and i hate being broken out...
and i hate that i might be getting pink-eye yet again...
and i hate that i have worked here for almost 4 months and still do not have an insurance card with which to take care of the hate prior to this one...
and i hate my job (just for old time's sake)...
and i hate people who clap at the end of a movie in the theater...
and i hate people who make no attempts to hustle across a crosswalk when they can clearly tell they're holding up the car trying to turn or whatever (i don't drive, but this totally annoys me when i see it)...
and i hate tom cruise...
and i hate the temperature of my apartment (it's somewhere between sauna and surface of the sun)...
and i hate that i've yet to go to the beach this summer...
and i hate that we never had a housewarming...
and i hate that my room is a mess...
and i hate that i'm missing my cousin's wedding, not because i really wanted to go but because it seems to have meant something to my mom...
and i really hate the aforementioned feeling that i'm feeling...

just call me debbie downer.



but, on a much, much better note, joe gets back from asia on friday.

Friday, July 15, 2005

i'm thinking of starting a secret society.

like one with serious traditions and rituals and stuff.



who's game?

i have a shitload of custom t-shirts.


admittedly, most of them are from the thousands (i hope i'm exaggerating) of barcrawls i participated in during my 4-year stint at university. there's the "putting the fun back in belligerent", the "trick-or-shot" halloween special, and the "got knockers?" birthday crawl for a busty girlfriend of mine... the list goes on and on, but there are a few others, a small but fondly regarded group, that were not for barcrawls.

the baseball t-shirts stephanie and i got when we were working together and practically besties. mine said "i heart stephie", and hers read "brett's mascot". we haven't spoken in more than 2 years.

the ringer tees betsy ordered us after her horrific experience with formal sorority recruitment. like she does with most things failing to make a good first impression, she forever signed off on the greek system. the front of our shirts displayed in bold white lettering the greek symbols gamma, delta, iota. the back stating for all who cared, "i can wear my letters to the bars." i held no ill-will for greeks, but betsy was and is a force to be reckoned with, so i just went along with it. god-damned independent... not so much.

the bright blue "gay is the new black" tee i made myself for pride. i attempted to iron on the letter moments before we departed. it made us late. it didn't turn out so well. it ruined the urban outfitters t-shirt i used as its foundation. a project i'm not so proud of.

the maureen shirt. the maureen shirt is a little different. it's a ringer tee on which the left breast reads: molly's boss. however, because i'm slight, the double s runs into my armpit, leaving only "molly's bo". the back of the shirt displays a quote from molly's mother: "...living life on the frontline." it's different because i can't really remember the story behind the quote or why it tickled us so. i know it originated from a night with our mothers, one filled with bars and stories about us when we were younger. everything else is lost on me.

everything except the maureen shirt's message. living life on the frontline.

i've been thinking a whole lot lately about the future. really, when am i not? [rhetorical]

i feel like i've spent my whole life waiting for something to happen. waiting 23 years for my destiny to come find me. holding still, pursuing no diverging paths, so that i'm easier to spot. i've always known there was something out there for me. something that i was supposed to do or accomplish.

i just never imagined that i'd have to figure out what it is and where to find it.

as i mentioned before, molly got me a book for my birthday. the name no longer escapes me. i've started reading "what should i do with my life?" by po bronson, and it is already making me incredibly anxious.

i've barely finished chapter one, and it is already a book of amazingly meaningful unanswers and mystic, elusive answers. it scares me.

but i'm not a fan of fears. never have been, so i'm confronting this one as best i can. i'm trying to find my own answers. i'm going to keep reading the book and listen to what it has to say, but i'm going to make a conscious effort to figure out for myself what i want to (and maybe should) do with my life.

for starters, i am actively looking for a new job. i know working here is not what i want to do with my life. i have no passion for it. it does not interest me. it is not what i want to do. deductive reasoning is a gem.

also, just yesterday, i began my "new body, new me" regimen. i know being teeny tiny is not something i want forever because i know that whatever it is i do with my life, i want to have an ass while doing it. plain and simple. plus, i'm really excited to look hot in (and out of) pants.

destiny is out there, singing its siren song. i hear it, feel it, want it, and need it... and though i do not know where it is, where it hides or lies in wait, i'm certainly going to do my best to find it.

i'm not sure why it took me so long to figure this out. maybe it's generational. maybe it's transitional. maybe it's personal. i don't know, but i do know it's a little bit of my dirty laundry. something that had been nagging me for a long time, but it's nice to air it out. to see it in real light. it feels good not to fear lacking direction. it feels even better making my own compass.

it's great to put away the laundry and the past... the barcrawl t-shirts, the forgotten friends, and even, the fear of a little, green ringer tee.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

i have my first personal training session at the gym tonight.



pray for my little, wimpy soul.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

they're having a blood drive tomorrow at work.


i'm not so happy about it. i find blood drives a little offensive.


i don't like being categorically denied. it's really not that fun.


even moreso, i don't like the look the lady hosting the blood drive gives me when i have to tell her that "i'm not allowed to give blood".


i should get to wear a shirt tomorrow that says, "don't ask. i'm gay. i have sex. and according to the gov, i might give the hiv to a birthing mother."

Monday, July 11, 2005

the link to this article had the text "how to banish mosquitos".

i snorted.


what are they, exiled rulers of yore? mongols, perhaps? romeo?


thou art banish'ed, foul fliers!

Friday, July 08, 2005

pride weekend in summation...


friday... it all began with sake bombing...

then dancing!
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melinda and mols... the cleave competition commenced shortly after this photo.


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current and former, straight (?) and gay, female and male (?): roommates get along at berlin.



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bestie, me, hank... yes, i'm wearing pink and red... you should have seen the shoes.


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in order from left to right: my boyfriend; hank; my phone; drew; me; that girl

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i later found out it was a wig and was utterly heartbroken.


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...going in for the kill.

i know i died.


*what you don't see from friday night*
me dancing on a box... both cardboard and club
an orgy in bucktown
me sitting on a birdhouse that doubled as a purse
melinda sitting for like 19 hours in the corner of berlin, talking to a gang of black power lesbians
me calling molly to tell her she's getting fucked
me walking down belmont in a pair of 4 inch spike heels, yelling "tyra and janice ain't got nothing on this bitch!"





saturday... continued with sleeping in...

then more drinking!

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this picture was solely included to introduce ferdinand... the small asian boy that adam and i adopted and brought to america a few years back... very much in the fashion of angelina and brad... i'm so ange!


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clearly, frank and i needed more entertainment... josh just wasn't enough.

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josh fixes the situation by sticking his finger in my butt.


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this makes everyone happy and the world go round.


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ferdie shows the boys where penises go


*what you didn't see from saturday*
my birthday bbq attended by a small yet tight-knit group
the arrival of the aforementioned colony of ants off our back porch
my friend kat falling out our backdoor
good food, good friends, some music and lots of booze




sunday... is always better with a parade...

then parties and bars, oh my!


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"ariel, tell me all about it while i eat this twinkie!"


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bad, kirichiban, bad!


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this picture was to be of our new parade friend beth... i stole the show, per usual


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i'm pretty sure he's doing more than worshipping that golden idol, moses.


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well, julie, i'm not sure who i know at this party. let me just check my phone here and... RUN!


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yes, i did a keg stand at the party we crashed... yes, a lesbian held my legs all by herself.


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though blurry like my vision at this point, this is me flirting with an extremely attractive straight man. i made him laugh. a lot. he broke my heart (and my fall at one point). a lot.


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you always know you've worn out your welcome when they start pitching frisbees at you.


*insert a brief jaunt home to change clothes and brush teeth*

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senior picture time at roscoe's... who isn't jealous?


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adam and i expressing the combined exhiliration and shock at the end of pride weekend.


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riding off into the sunset on another great weekend... i'll be hitting the dusty trails until next year... see you then!


*what you didn't see from sunday*
we actually crashed two parties that neighbored each other and were only separated by a wooden fence. there were many times that i was attempting to climb said fence with my rump in the air and one foot propped on the top of the fence... i succeeded in scaling the fence 0 times.
one of the parties was hosted by a man who claimed to live in the "world's smallest apartment" or wsa or something like that. he's a decorator and was using the party to showcase the mad-crazy skills he exhibited when refurbishing his 320 sq.ft. apartment. it had a walk-in closet with beige carpet. they were serving cranberry and vodkas. i'll leave it at that.
me walking into our apartment at 4 am and attempting to sleep in molly's bed with her. yes, i cracked out a butter knife to unlock her door.
me falling off the edge of the bathtub while washing my feet
a few of us lying in the front yard of one of the parties, and by front yard, i mean the patch of grass by the curb
me highjacking a table at nookie's because i didn't want to wait in line



in case you didn't notice, i attempted to wear the pride rainbow in an assortment of brightly colored tees... i do my best to do my part!



and there you have it kids... pride in a nutshell

and i'm the nutshell.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

those grasshoppers ain't singing all summer because i'm going to kill them all first!



for real, what is up with all the bugs? they're stalking me. bugs. everywhere.

before i even get started, though, i want to clarify something. i am not afraid of bugs. fear is not quite the emotion. it's more like suppressed annoyance blended with a dash of condescension and a dusting of disgust. it can, however, be mistaken for fear. they look much the same with regard to physical reactions, but there is a definite difference. i am afraid of dragons. i despise bugs.

it all started with earthworms. while i do not know if worms technically qualify as insects, i do know that, for all intents and purposes, i consider them bugs. wriggly, slimy, no-eyeballed bugs. "snakes!" i shrieked as a young boy of 3, running as fast as my galoshed feet could carry me, running for the safety of the house and chicken soup with saltines, running from the pink snakes climbing out of the ground to get me. "brett ryan, those aren't snakes... they're worms," my mother explained calmly, guarded from the summer misting beneath a red and white umbrella. "what's worms supposed to mean?" i asked her in a single, terse breath, then adding snidely, "little snakes?" she looked at me, hiding my fear of the snakey worms behind a brusque exterior. "they can't hurt you," she said. "they're blind." i believed her, jogging off to stomp in the awaiting puddles.

my rainy play-day coming to a close, i ran into our garage to remove my wet slicker and matching galoshes. my treaded boot hit the smooth concrete floor, and i was instantly on my back, cracking my head against the hard floor. beckoned by blood-curdling screams, my mother appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and garage. "what happened?" she inquired. "the little snakes made me fall," i said. "what?" she asked, intrigued. i pointed to the bottom of my boot. there, quite dead, was the mashed body of an earthworm - fat, juicy - strategically positioned on the ball of my foot. clearly, it had not been the wet boot, but rather the wet earthworm carcass that caused me to slip. this debacle, compounded with the numerous times throughout childhood that a fishhook went through a worm and into my thumb, spurned my longstanding ire for all species of bug.

building where the hated earthworms had begun to construct, june bugs contributed when they could. childhood memories of summer are dotted by the persistent thumping of june bugs against window screens. the bugs literally dying to get in; we dying slowly as if from chinese water torture. thump thump thump, their wings lightly buzzing behind the oh-so-discrete-yet-deafeningly-loud attempts at entrance. and on the off chance they'd somehow fight their way through the screen, they always found their way into the golden locks surrounding my tanned and freckled face of childhood. burrow, they would. burrow further and further into my hair, until properly positioned by the oracle of my ear, the buzzing of wings now seemingly an internal sound, as if the alarm of some biological clock had reached its hour.

mosquitos. need i say more? no.

for a year and a half in college, i lived with drew in an apartment that had seen better years. the entire 650 square foot box had one window, the bathroom ceiling was probably growing the cure for cancer, and several of the kitchen walls looked like california faultlines. here, our story continues, for what should one day appear from beneath the california crust that was our kitchen walls but ants - a large, productive, foraging colony of ants. we did not invite them. we were not terribly dirty boys. food was not left around to be taken by wild dogs or freakishly strong ants. yet they came in uninvited. they unabashedly explored the entire domicile. the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, both bedrooms, and yes, the cure for cancer bathroom, all were infested. oh, but brett, they're just ants. do you understand what it is like to find ants roaming the curved arc of your solid deodorant? how the hell did they get under the cap? maybe they sweat a lot. can you comprehend the emotions involved in discovering dead ant bodies on your remote? did i kill them or was this season of "the real world" really that bad? i'm blaming trishelle. is it possible for you to imagine the horror of encountering ants freely wandering the darkest crevices of your bedside goodie drawer? gives "catching the bug" a whole new meaning. i thought not.

much more recently, just off our back porch, a colony of ants moved in, and they're a rowdy bunch. constantly on the move and looking for prime real estate. i watch them from my bedroom window, waiting for the day they try to become our newest roommates.

i would have said new roommates, but that title has already been stolen. yep, silverfish has moved in, and i am so not thrilled. for starters, i thought silverfish were like waterphiles. now, i know i have a moistening effect on most people i meet, but i hardly change the atmosphere of a room. well, except for that whole lighting-up-a-room smile thing... regardless, what i think i know about silverfish does not explain their presence in our apartment. they like water (or so i think), yet i do not find them in the bathtub. i do not find them in or around the kitchen sink. no, i think they're stylephiles. i find them in my closet, sorting through all my last season goodness and scurrying for their lives when i approach for fear i'll hear them making fun of my wardrobe. they like to hang out in my window dressings, luxuriating in the velvety wonderfulness of my drapes. they tour paris, tokyo, and hong kong, wandering in and out of my small collection of antique postcards scattered across my dressers and bedside table. they love my room, and for that, i both love and hate them. these bugs and i - the silverfish and i - we could be friends... i mean clearly we have all the same interests and tastes, but... well... they're so ugly. they're like maggots with legs... and let's face it. faggots and maggots do not get along.

oh, and their name... such a lie. they don't look nothin' like silver fish.

our other tenants. my least favorite of them all. our spiders. now, i don't share the same dislike that most people do of spiders. i do not loathe spiders because of their creepy, slinky frame and multiple appendages; no, i loathe, abhor, despise spiders because they're so high-and-mighty. they just set up shop wherever the hell they feel like. they keep a clean house, but it's a repulsive one, nonetheless: stringy, sticky like cotton candy, practically invisible, and, oh, it tastes like hair. thus, i avoid spiders like the plague. i don't engage with people like that, much less creatures of the wilderness. however, the spiders will have nothing to do with that. they just forced themselves upon us. oh, you don't want us in your living room... well, yeah, about that, you see that's just not really going to work for us spiders. you see we really like your living room, so don't mind those boxes over there, that's just nancy setting up her web. oh, and could you two keep it down during the day, we're really more nighttime people. thaaaaanks. they just do whatever the hell they want. no regard or respect for others or their privacy. hell, they even ride the l. like what, they heard a rash of flies was ravaging north broadway, so they have to hop the redline from downtown to uptown. no, i don't believe that. but yes, it happens. it happened just the other day. i was riding along quietly (well, as quiet as i do) with the roommate, when these girls point to this guy and tell him he has a spider on his shoulder. i immediately flip out. go all twitchy and paranoid that this bossy, little piece of shit bug is going to try to come home with me. it'd totally use some cheesy line about stars in my eyes or an angel falling from heaven or something. anything to get a place to stay. freeloading sons of bitches. yeah, that's right, i called charlotte a bitch. and she is... do you think the farmer had her sign a lease for that corner of the barn doorway? i don't think so. she just up and took it.

now, i'm on the lookout for spiders on the cta, and if i see any, i'm totally asking to see their farecard.

cheapskates.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

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if that doesn't make you smile, you are a cold, heartless bitch, devoid of all feeling and emotion.



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if that doesn't make you think of a papa pitt and a quite preggers ms. jolie storming around barefoot, you have been living in a cave or under a rock or have been in a coma.



damn you, spawn of voigt, for making me want to adopt a small cambodian child... like right now.

i heart you, maddox. you and your mohawk.

Friday, July 01, 2005

deux choses.


1. i live with the bestest, most fantasticest girl in the world. this morning, i walk out of my bedroom to get ready for french class (classe francaise), and what greets me? tons of handmade birthday decorations! it was the most amazing birthday present in the world. all over our kitchen, our hallway, the living room, even the bathroom, she put up little signs and cards and paper chains all wishing me the best birthday in the world. she must have sat up late into the wee hours of the night, knowing that she had to awake at 7:30 for work, cutting and taping and writing and drawing. it's so precious. xoxoxoxo mols! OH, and then, i find gifts on the kitchen table. a great book that i intend to read right away (its title escapes me right now), the july issue of elle (that means she in french) that has none other than my fave celebutante ms. lohan on the cover (her birthday is tomorrow), and a big box of mini charleston chews. hoo to the ray!

2. tonight, i celebrate the good, ole fashioned way. i'm getting tanked, and hopefully not at my own expense. i plan to head down to the boys' town and hit me some bars. i also fully intend to get perfect strangers to buy me drinks. thus, i will be going to one of the better places to accomplish said goal - that place of the ages - your favorite tourist bar and mine - r to the oscoe's. if you care to join the debauchery, come on down (in a very, fairy the price is right way). what better way to meet me than when i'm shitcanned. smooches.




over and definitely out... on the town, anyhow.

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