Monday, December 29, 2008


Big headphones help you to really ~*~get into~*~ the music

I will always love my boys.

Girls will always be insecure miserable fucks.

It's illegal to drive around with the wrong address on your license.. apparently.. and if you happen to be speeding and pulled over and show an officer your license but say "That's the wrong address I moved," the officer will most likely not reward you for your honestly but instead give you a $90 ticket.

Don't EVER confuse missing someone so bad that it hurts with the coping mechanism "maybe I'd be better off alone," ever. EVER.

Never give money to homeless people, unless they have a homeless dog or cat.

Always talk to animals. Standard greetings for a dog are "HIII" standard greetings for a cat are "MEOW"

My boyfriend will never like the mixes I make for him, no matter how hard I try. I have come to accept this bitter fact in the sense that the one mix he tried to make me he forgot to actually BURN it and gave me a blank c.d that I filled with Daft Punk. But we do agree on Slick Rick, so there is hope.

Curly hair will always make me feel sexy and ~exotic~ but straight hair is a lot easier and it's fun to wear cute knitted hats in the winter.

There's nothing better than watching someone you love unwrap a gift you know they're going to really love.

"MAURY I CAN'T BE THAT BABIES DADDY, MAURY I DON'T MAKE SICK BABIES-" is never a valid answer for a man who is suspected of being a babies father. CLEARLY everything you need to learn about men you can learn from daytime episodes of Maury.

There's nothing wrong with switching your major at 20.

I'm a writer, not a fighter.

If I don't ask for your opinion don't bother giving it to me. Ever.

Becca Lewis will always give hands-down the best advice. Here are some of my personal "Becca Quotes" from her journal that I stole :

The voice in your head that routinely yells things like "ABORT" and "Bitch, you gon' regret this" is usually right, but you never listen to it anyway.

Not many people have your best interest at heart, come to think of it. Good thing you always do.

Love is the funnest emotion to expend.

You can't make people do anything they don't want to do unless you are face to face and they are easily manipulated and/or guilted into things.

Blackberrys are the best phone's in the entire world.

Twitter is addictive and very annoying/ creepy when random humans "follow" me.

My feet will always be cold.

Levis look good on any body shape.

I should be proud that I'm 5'9, in 2009 I'm going to stand up straighter.

When strangers tell me "You remind me of Kat Dennings," or "That girl from the Princess Diaries movie with the big frizzy hair," I will try my hardest to take these as compliments.. I guess.

Don't ever let anybody make you feel uncomfortable. I learned from my friend Nikki that if a homeless person says he wants you to "sit on his face," it is 100% appropriate to reply "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU'RE INAPPROPRIATE."

Burberry will always be the best smelling perfume.

Girls should never wear the following : colored contacts, a mouth that constantly name drops, extensions, or ugg boots/ especially ugg boots with sweatpants tucked into them. Please for the love of god.

Knives don't have your back.

Emily Haines will always be the most beautiful human.

Boots boots boots > sneakers

2009 I can't wait to make it.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

she said you are as pale as a sheet, you look awful my sweet lay down and wait for the sun

I had a dream I was banished to a plantation where all we ate were fried eggs and avocado pits. I made paper cranes and fed water to the dogs. I traced cloud shapes in red dust. Rocks poked into my back while I sucked on the tips of my fingers to calm myself to sleep. I woke up with my lower back sore and a new bruise on my inner right arm that resembles a hand print.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

If looks could kill

The queen of dirty looks. We have a tradition where we sing "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" to the bings birthday cake my Nana buys and my not-so little 18yr old brother blows out the candles. My Poppy always drinks too much red wine and I always end up wearing his glasses, Nana pinches my cheeks and tells me I'll always be "her cats meow." The holidays are a little bittersweet but I'm thankful for my family (although dysfunctional we still function,) my best friend of 14yrs, my very sweet and thoughtful boyfriend, and dogs that will always opt to be held like babies.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

heart over logic

A secret freckle open arms, furry as a bear with my cold dry hands massaging your temples. Once you were snoring so loudly that I shook your shoulders and whispered "Are you dying?" you snapped the elastic on my underwear and I fell back asleep.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

jump off a cliff,

He was the kind of man that liked to pee in the shower. Sometimes he'd ask me to talk dirty to him, a hand shaking on his coffee cup while his jaw clicked nervously. "Don't speak too loud," he'd warn pinching my bottom lip, so I would whisper "you could touch my bum if you'd like," and smile. Mr.L was my 10th grade wood shop teacher who was very strange and would tell me "Evelyn you are very beautiful for a spanish girl, oh I mean that." In a sea of blonde hair blue eyes I was chestnut round jet black, with eyelashes so dark I didn't need mascara. I kept a rosary in my pocket whenever I passed the sweet smoke filled bathrooms clutching Bukowski knowing that I didn't need to build a bird house to keep my A+. I would bring in my mother's almendrados cookies wrapped in tinfoil for him to munch on while I read some of my poetry out loud.
"How does this sound?" I would ask.
He would shrug, crumbs falling onto his pressed khaki crotch.
"I don't get that kind of stuff. Do you like South Park?"
It went on like this for a few months. Us meeting up after class, me feeding him my mother's cooking while he'd give me money to buy Dr. Peppers, in exchange for my words.
"Would you like to kiss me here?" I would ask teasing a finger across my clavicle.
His big eyes would light up, chair screeching closer.
"Perhaps.." A hand would drift across my levi'd thigh.
"We should exchanged numbers so we can talk before we fall asleep." Mr. L suggested.
I would talk dirty to him every night at exactly 9:00P.M, while doing my math homework.
One night at exactly 9:15P.M I realized Mr.L had forgotten to call. I figured he was busy having sex with his wife or washing the dishes so I put my math homework away, and went to bed a bit relived.
The next afternoon in wood shop class Mr. L was nowhere to be found. We had a substitute teacher who announced "Your teacher is unfortunately not going to be coming back... I'm your new teacher."
The new wood shop teacher did not like Spanish girls.
Two Weeks later word spread around the school that Mr.L was in prison for doing a blonde hair blue eyed girl without a condom who was the same age as me, they would meet up after class. The girl was (unfortunately,) pregnant with Mr.L's baby.
I built her,Mr.L, and their unborn child a spice rack in wood shop class with all my free time.

Monday, December 15, 2008

I can't see further than my own nose at this moment


My mother refers to the man who raped her as "that old fucker."
"What does he look like?" I ask.
"Like your father."
It was an unseasonably warm winters morning so I left my terry cloth bath robe untied, a sleepy stretched out white t-shirt clung absently around my tiny ribs.
"Should we tell someone?" I ask sincere wide eyes looking up from my oatmeal the tiny raisins always reminded me of a fat dog tick ready to pop.
My mother, my own flesh and blood. She was a beautiful woman who's only diet consisted of cigarettes and milky coffee. She was so unhealthy and always smelled like the bottom of a purse, bits of tobacco and perfume. Sometimes in the morning she smelled like vodka and mints. Like this morning.
Some mornings a health kick would find her and she would mix a protein shake that tasted like a reeses peanutbutter cup, chasing clear capsule vitamins down by the handful.
"If we tell someone then the entire damn town would know! That's embarrassing," Her gaze follows the length of the kitchen. She presses her temples and sighs.
"Lets just pretend it never happened." She decides annoyed at the conversation.
I watch my mother stride across the kitchen floor her callused feet clicking against the tile, fixing another pot of coffee.
I hear the toilet flush and a man's chesty cough.
"Goddammit! That's him!" My mother shouts slamming the coffee pot against the counter top not once but twice.
I see a tall man with a salt and pepper beard come into focus. I watch him slowly lace up his boots that he's kept neatly by the kitchen door since last night.
He looks in my direction, I quickly look down at my oatmeal.
"Howdy Ma'am." He greets me.
A smile reveals well kept dentures. I see no resembles to my real father.
I look to my mother who is watching him, tapping her feet impatiently.
"You! Would you get out already! Leave my daughter ALONE!" She shouts.
"Don't look at her! You're an old PERVERT!"
The man smiles and puts on his jacket.
"You're mother sure is one hell of a spitfire." He winks at me.
I steady my chin on the palm of my hands and watch my mother who is now shaking, swallow a handful of vitamins. A, B, D, E, and K struggle down her throat searching for some fatty tissue to absorb into. Finally my mothers face finds some color.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Some Fools Think of Happiness / Some Fools Fool Themselves I Guess

I've got everything I want but..

I just finished "The Brutal Language of Love" By Alicia Erian. It's a series of short stories surrounding the very uncomplicated act of sex, and the forever complications that follow after the act.


Humor infuses tales that might otherwise seem bleak or degrading with a free-floating verve. You get the sense that Erian's protagonists are optimistic because they haven't given much thought to the alternative

Beatrice is a hapless college sophomore who continues to see a boy who date-raped her; she also makes passes at her college professors. Roz, the young girl with a weight problem in engages in a sexual relationship with a popular boy — and with one of his friends who is mean to her.


I'll do a real update in a few more days right now my boyfriend is ordering a movie on demand and we have freshly baked cookies to devour!

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Soft lips in a hard world.

There's a lady at work known as "The Bombshell." She's is 5'9 and wears fuck me pumps, short skirts and has a spray on tan that never spreads evenly on the webs of her fingers and toes. She has blond extensions and gets prevelle silk hyaluronic acid filler with lidocaine pumped into her lips, yet they still wrinkle from years of smoking cigarettes. The skin around her glossy blue eyes is pulled taunt by cosmetic surgery. She works out twice a day for hours and her teeth are white as milk. She once told me I could be beautiful if I just made a few minor adjustments.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008


XMAZZZZ by Erica73

I'm not that big on Christmas, I guess you could almost call me a Grinch. I was raised Christian never baptized and went to church like twice in my life. I do not own a single crucifix I'm allergic to organized religion. My family is the "Just don't use the word Jesus and fuck in the same sentence on Christmas morning, please," kind of family. So for me, Christmas doesn't really signify the birth of little baby Jesus (despite the fact that my Nana buys baby Jesus his very own birthday cake at our family's Christmas Party,) it's just a day for opening presents and handing out a few of my very own poorly wrapped gifts to a very select few. I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet this morning before work so I'll be sure to add that to my ~wish list~ in the meantime I'm down to the crunch.