Cake Alert

I think I have eaten most of Dora the Explorer's head. I'm not really upset that I can't stop eating her head. I'm probably more annoyed that I know her name.


Fractal Image

So, basically, you are looking at a countertop from Emeril's in Atlanta. That is one of the pricest meals I have ever bought for my palate, which isn't quite as sophisticated as the food.


My World Will Always Be Grey

I like it when I am winked at. I can melt when kissed on the forehead. I love anticipation, though I hate surprises. I can't pass up a good hug. I like to be scared shitless. Chocolate puts me in a good mood. I'm addicted to sexy heels. Watching other people's pain makes my heart break. I feel the need to make peace for others. I try to bury my emotions. Black and white photography is always beautiful. I fear how I will die. I often misquote lyrics. I think everyone is better than me. Filet mignon, for breakfast, is a good thing. When I am nervous, I pull my left earlobe. Insects freak me out. I cannot stand to sweat. The piano makes me want to cry. Laughter is one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard. I enjoy studying people. My feet are my favorite thing. I feel very boyish. I used to have incredible intuition. Pretty teeth are attractive. I notice everything about people, nearly instantly. I can be incredibly stubborn. People who don’t give a shit intrigue me. I hate roses. I cannot live without music. I think the neck is really sexy. I am a light sleeper. I am cold in the summer and warm in the winter. I thought that I would be more. My screams are very girly. The very notion of broccoli makes me want to gag. Cars are incredibly erotic to me. I’m incapable of staying angry. I cannot guzzle liquids. I like my music at ear-damaging levels. I am uncomfortable with change.



Kitchen K, St. Louis, MO



Vinegar Jim's

Leftovers, from Seattle, 2003
Snoqualmie Falls



My (gay) boss was being a smart ass with me at the copier machine. He was trying to be funny and work the copier at the same time, but obviously having some trouble.

So he says, "Enlarge this for me."

I responded, "That is a woman's gift."

And he shot out laughter so loud that I then got embarrassed at what I had just said, but he did give me a point for it.
Men's Fashion

Not that you should clear your outfit through me, but it is never a good idea to wear a short-sleeved button down with a tie. Just never. Unless you're going for a look from the '70s.

I am the lady in red today.


A Slow Death

I'm on the ragged edge. I'm sitting in what my company calls a "dress rehearsal," attempting to do my job. Things that typically take me 3 minutes, now take me thirty. I don't even understand what I'm doing. There is nothing coherent here, including my thoughts. I'm just frozen.

I just want this to be over with. It's like taking an exam in school when you haven't prepared. My anxiety level would get so high. The only slightly comforting thing that I could tell myself was that in ten years, this test wouldn't matter. I wouldn't even remember it.

Yeah, I just want to cry.


Exhibit B

That belly dancer that I was telling you about.
Because I Have the Hormones of a Boy

That is a co-worker of mine and her husband. I got him laid that night. He thinks I'm cool now and says we should hang out more.

His wife has different opinions.
This Song is Stuck in My Head

I will light the match this mornin', so I won't be alone.
Watch as she lies silent, for soon light will be gone.
Oh, I will stand arms outstretched, pretend I'm free to roam.
Oh, I will make my way through one more day in Hell.

How much difference does it make?

I will hold the candle till it burns up my arm.
Oh, I'll keep takin' punches until their will grows tired.
Oh, I will stare the sun down until my eyes go blind.
Hey, I won't change direction, and I won't change my mind.

How much difference does it make?
I'll swallow poison, until I grow immune.
I will scream my lungs out, till it fills this room.
How much difference? How much difference does it make?

It's a very slow, killing song, and I made the semi-mistake of putting it on repeat last night. It totally sounds like something that you should experience while you're high.

And oddly enough, I dreamt of Aaron Lewis last night, not Eddie Vedder.






A Not So Sobering Post

I’m totally blogging this thing drunk. Okay, drunk is a strong word; one that I would often say I’ve never been. I’m blogging buzzed. Well buzzed. I’m feeling much better. I attended a birthday get together for a friend/former co-worker. I decided, yesterday, that I would be drinking today. I’ve mentioned that I’m a bit of a planner. I planned on this feeling because I kind of needed it.

Can I say the word “single” equates to two words when mentioned to the opposite sex: Raw Meat. That’s totally what they hear. The scoot their stools a little closer and suddenly, I totally need another shot. I can smell their testosterone a hundred feet away. One guy kept rubbing up against my butt and told me that I had a nice one. He was probably approaching fifty. I knew it would be a long night.

There were belly dancers at the bar. I took pictures. Providing they’re not too blurry, I shall add them. There were discussions of the appropriate amount of sex married couples should have. Their numbers always disappoint me and add another imaginary chalk point to my ongoing list of reasons to not marry.

Another coworker was trying to explain what I was like to a third party. The word HERMIT came out. That has never been an aspiration of mine, just so you know. I never wanted to fly jets with the name HERMIT stamped across my helmet. Hermit. That’s just so sad. And to think I just assumed that I was avoiding office drama.



I'm in love with the twilight. It's in the anticipation of darkness with a glimmer of the moonlight and the twinkles of the stars. I will stare at them in utter amazement and long to be a part of them. I will close my eyes and let music fill me until I want nothing more than to become a part of wherever it is that I imagine we go when we die. I want the stand out my sunroof with my head back and my arms pinned back by the wind, pretending to be free and weightless. I wish I could leave all that is uniform and constructed behind me—to just let go.

There is such beauty in what my mind allows me to imagine some times. The dark is a strange comfort to me. It has always remained such. I cherish being alone. I crave it in its absence. My memories are tangible to me, and conjured by the strangest of notions. I can connect anything; I some times relate to nothing. I will always wish for more. I will never believe you can love as much as me. My chest feels empty, and it scares me. I can only remember love; I can't feel it. I argue with myself. I don't think I'll ever be understood by anyone. I crave speed. I think I can communicate telepathically. I'm attracted to cool colors and envy the warm ones. In my dreams, I can't breathe. My heartaches haunt me. I'm always intimidated. The world feels too small, and so big that I am lost in it. I'm just tired of being here.

From Australia. If only I had been the one to see it.
Totally Thinking

That taxes and the millions of types that I seemingly keep running (smack) into make me want to stick sharp, metal objects into my eyes. My brain capacity would need to be the size of Pamela Anderson's over inflated tits to absorb that shit.


My Heartache

It seems that each time I take a trip to Atlanta, I wind up compacting the trip with numerous errands while I'm there. I can barely recall a leisurely trip to the city. There is always so much to do, and in part, my haircuts and color take entirely too much time out of a day. Sitting in a salon for what can easily turn into five or six hours, can really stress my to do list. My company always gets to complete all their shopping while I'm wrapped in foil and trying my hardest to sleep with my head up.

I already have an appointment for cut and color, two errands to run on behalf of other people, several stores that I must hit, and a cake to pick up. Of course, I'm trying to plan the logistics to where I can eat at two (new to me) restaurants, and I'm not sure how that will fit in. Because we are basically addressing an eleven hour day.

Don't get me wrong. I love Atlanta. I would propose marriage if I ever thought she'd accept. She has my heart for life and much of what could have been my retirement as well. I just wish our relationship wasn't one of long distance.