dudes are gross

it’s late and a bit chilly and i am in a lot of pain and i decide to indulge in a little bad behaviour before i got to bed. there i am, standing on my balcony, shivering, a small red spark between my fingers. it’s calm and quiet and the night feels like it belongs to only me. suddenly, the melancholy silence is broken by the thunder of two douchebags wailing from the alley. they burst onto the street, one and then the other. the first running, nearly falling (much like i did earlier in the day) and arriving at his big hulking truck. he gets in. the second staggers out moments later more unsure of his footing. as he arrives at the truck it starts with a roar and he stands at the passenger door. i wonder for a moment why he isn’t getting in. am i going to have to watch him puke? i cross my fingers that isn’t the case. it isn’t. instead i hear the all to familiar sound of a man peeing on the sidewalk. i look over and see the stream hitting the ice and steaming up at his feet. i hear the driver laugh, open his door and get out. the sound repeats. tandem urination. as they both mount the truck they laugh and congratulate each other on their fantastic ability to whip their cocks out whenever they please. they sit in the truck for a moment before pulling away. i imagine they high five, maybe even show each other their dicks in celebration of a job well done.

most girls have often said “it would be awesome to be a dude so i could pee wherever i want with ease”, but they usually mean on the side of the highways, and in other such locations where a bathroom is not present. i live in a residential neighbourhood. the closest bar is about six blocks. it is fair to assume they were at someone’s house in the neighbouring apartment building and it is also fair to assume that this apartment had a toilet. most do.

right now they are sitting in my living room debating who gets which hole. good thing i find a crass lack of class so appealing.

90% of this is true.

my boyfriend (john k. samson)* is playing a show in my town and i was happy about this. in my haste i typed the url for the evil ticket selling giant incorrectly and came across this (www.ticketmasters.ca) instead.

i TOTALLY support a person’s right to their opinion (obviously, hello blogger!) but please please please do it intelligently and articulately! it is all too often that hardline atheists seem as idiotic and reactionary as the people they are so against. be calm and please please please be articulate.

c’est tout.

*john k. samson isn’t actually my boyfriend for the record. i just sort of wish he was… and by sort of i mean, i do. wish he was…

ipod update

does anyone actually care what i’m listening to?

i was reminded of a truly beautiful song today. the shadowlands by ryan adams. it was number 292/9000. sure, he may have excessive arm hair and a bad attitude but goddamn can that motherfucker write. if you’ve never heard it you need to. NOW.

k, love you. bye.

hair blog

yep, i am going to blog about my hair, ok? ok.

so, i suspect that the average number of readers of this blog know me and know that i have epically curly hair. the teensie bit of caribbean blood that courses through me all splurts out from the top of my head. it’s very curly. but, the last two times i’ve gotten my hair cut i’ve let my hairdresser straighten my hair. most people in my life have never met me with straight hair. it’s a weird thing. i never do it myself for three reasons: 1) the quality flat iron required is way too expensive; 2) it takes me three hours to do it; 3) i always miss patches and then i look like an idiot.

the weird thing about having straight hair, aside from how often people don’t recognize me, is that it makes me VAIN. vain as fuck. i post pictures of myself on facebook and tweet about my hair. i bring it up in conversation, i ask people about it, i walk different, i talk differently, i hold my breasts up on a totally different line of latitude. when i have straight hair i feel pretty.

i don’t often feel pretty.

now, don’t get me wrong-i’m not fishing for compliments. i know i’m not ugly. i recognize that i am symetrical and cute and that if i were genuinely ugly no one would ever want to fuck me. people do, and have, fuck(ed) me. but i am not conventionally pretty. my hair is absolutely a marker for the volume of my personality. i’m in your face and loud and wide and crass and only soft if you reach out and really touch me… it’s totemic or something. it’s too striking not to be an almost essential part of how i see myself and how others see me. i’m sure people go, “oh, you know m! big hair and lots of tattoos”… and when i have straight and it flips behind me like a perfect cheerleader poem i wonder who i’d be if i wasn’t the girl with big hair and lots of tattoos. what if one day i walked into a room and had flat, straight blonde hair and no more tattoos?

my curls are back. i felt stinky and i needed to wash some of the hot mess of the weekend off my skin. part of me always feels a little sad when i look back at myself and see the sleek sophisitication gone but i know that’s all a mask. i am not who i am because of my hair… or not only because of my hair. we’d be idiots if we didn’t think the way we look has an impact on the way we see ourselves as a person.

i caught a moment of a tv show about a family who are all trying to lose a LOT of weight (collectively they weigh over 1200lbs) and the 14 year old daughter says, “i have spent my life learning how to be the fat girl and i do it well. what happens when i’m not the fat girl anymore?” I feel the same way. who am i if not the girl with big curls? i don’t want to be the girl with straight hair all the time, i just want to be here sometimes because the attention is spectacular.

i know it’s all vanity but sometimes all we are is vanity.

“we are intrepid”

it’s late. i like it. i like the late. the witching hour gets inside and makes me feel sort of bad or mad or totally ready do all the things i should never do.

dear drunk kim basinger looking woman,

thank you. thank you for telling me i was beautiful. thank you for telling me i was beautiful many many times. thank you less for kissing me but thanks just the same. i needed a good complimenting.

things have been complicated lately.complicated in my brain and in my heart (ish) and in those places that frustrate like no other. it’s about acceptance isn’t it? just accepting.

also, and curiously, i referred to myself as 26. and i said it to myself… i’m not 26. maybe i had a wee stroke?

i want to stay in a fancy hotel. drop off for a few days. find someone to get all wrapped up in and just get lost…

p.s. i am somewhere in the neighbourhood of 215/9000 and the highlight of today was certainly “hush” by bedouin soundclash. i wasn’t expecting to like it. i was expecting to be disappointed after the first few moments but i loved it. dolly parton is always a joyful little surprise too!

p.p.s. 215/9000 doesn’t seem impressive, i know. but when i’m at home i’m usually working on my computer and therefore listening to itunes or i’m listening to records. the only time i’m making out with my ipod is in the car. peter and i have a good but specific relationship. we’re like secret lovers who only see each other when his wife is out of town and even then only in the backseat of his nissan elantra sedan. or maybe it isn’t like that at all.

“come as you are”

i’m learning how to play guitar. it’s really hard. conceptually it isn’t that difficult but you have to put your hand in positions that it isn’t used to and also, i have small hands.

i had fun at my lesson with my friend and i have to say, i felt a little tinge in my lady parts when i got to touch his BEAUTIFUL ruby red fender strat.

best ss says, “guys with guitars have jaded hearts and fast fingers.” who cares! guitars are nice!

the first song i’m learning is “come as you are”. nirvana seems particularly appropriate since i have wanted to play guitar since the first time i heard a nirvana song.

i should be writing for real…

lake of fire

so as i write this i am watching the brilliant documentary “lake of fire”. it’s about the anti-abortion movement in the united states.

the reactionary side of me jumps for joy at being canadian. our government isn’t perfect and our prime minister is an idiot but at least god doesn’t factor into his daily policy decisions.

the intelligent, well-thinking side of me is just freaked out. i feel dirty. i feel a twinge in my uterus. i feel nauseated because the woman who set roe v. wade in motion, the woman who was jane roe-norma mccorvey-is now an anti-abortion activist who suddenly feels overcome with the weight of the lord and feels responsible for the death of 35 million babies.

i was raised catholic. i’m now an agnostic. i flail around in my beliefs about god but never in my belief in religion. i have no place in my life for organized religion and i have been and always will be pro-choice. i will also fight for the right to choose what to do with my own body and for your right to do what you wish with yours.

i am not pro-abortion, i am pro-choice. i am for the legal right of women to chose to access safe and legal medical services.

i have myself had a couple of pregnancy scares and i came to terms with my decision to have an abortion. i wasn’t happy about the possibility of having an abortion but it was the right choice for me and i am glad that my government allows me to chose what to do with my own body. for me that’s what it all comes down to: it’s my body and it’s my life and my elected officials have no place in my bedroom or in my uterus. i never had to have an abortion but i would and i would go with any friend that asked me for support.

i’m getting repetitive. i feel so overwhelmed right now…

sleep well my dear friends: take care of yourself, protect yourself, educate yourself, love yourself and respect yourself.

163/9000

163/9000: happiness by riceboy sleeps

sounds to me like it could be in baz luhrman flick if baz luhrman knew anything about subtlety. happiness is a mega-highlight of my new relationship with peter.

in other news: i just drove best roomie ever to the airport and i am not envious of commuters. 6:45am and i’m in a traffic jam on the freeway. how fucking depressing.

annivesary

well well well…

my roomie and i celebrated our six month roommate anniversary together. this is my longest relationship in history. ok, so i fucked someone regularly for over a year but it ended when i wondered if i wanted to date him-i didn’t. i’ve been in love, deeply, but at some point it just stops working… sex? i dig that. i dig it as often as possible and with as many people as possible; i just don’t really do the relationship thing.

but that is completely besides the point. and yes, i deliberately said “besides”.

anyways, i love my roomie. i TOTALLY love her. she is a little light in my life. she just burnt an ant in the kitchen. for real. she is the best!

barf party

i’m doing as well as possible with all the puking around me. selfishly i hope it doesn’t rub off on me and i end up hosting the barf party but i feel really sad for my poor barfing friend.

my emotional response to someone else barfing is a bit irrational. my emotional response to me barfing borders on completely hysterical. freudian hysterics-not cured by masturbation.

that’s all i want to say.