Wednesday, December 30, 2009

SHIT IS STILL HAPPENING IN IRAN!





THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA ISN'T REPORTING ON THIS SO WE NEED TO GET IT OUT BY WORD OF MOUTH! YOU GUYS NEED TO TWEET THESE VIDEOS WITH THE HASHTAG #ANGRYIRAN! PUT IT ON YOUR BLOGS, PUT IT ON YOUR FACEBOOKS AND MYSPACES, SET IT AS YOUR AIM OR MSN STATUS, SEND THEM TO BLOGGERS, VLOGGERS AND LOCAL NEWS OUTLETS! LET PEOPLE KNOW!
I am part of the first generation that won't know what life is like without the internet. Knoweledge is obtained and spread like lightning. Are we going to use this for good? WE'D FUCKING BETTER!

Sunday, December 27, 2009

6 Things I Learned at the Mall the Day after Christmas

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1. Everyone goes to the mall the day after Christmas.
Including me and my sister. Her to shop, me to tape flyers in changing rooms and bathrooms.
Why is that? You already got stuff, do you really need even more stuff? Or is it a social thing? Anyway, fucking everyone was there. And they were all carrying shopping bags.

2. Scene kids especially love going to the mall the day after Christmas. Dear god, I like you, Scene Kids, but is the mall your secret meetingplace or something? There must have been a hundred of you. I have never seen so many DC logo shirts, or little skull patterned hairbows in my life. I went to the mall again today (because really, when theres a foot of fucking snow outside, what the hell are you going to do for fun?) and counted the scene kids. There were 21 of them. Are you guys taking the mall over? Planning some sort of vigilante scheme using hairspray and eyeglitter as weapons? Count me in, fucking-a.

3. They still sell glass ponies in the exchange room at Dillard's. These goddamn ponies have been in Dillards as long as I can remember. I am pretty sure these are the same ponies that have always been there since I was eight. If I wasn't wary of the labor conditions, I would totally plunk down $20 for one.
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I totally ogled this one.
Image and video hosting by TinyPic
Then I totally fondled this one.

4. Guidos will butt into your conversations, get offended when you call them guidos, and are still pretty cool, all in all.
Me: *points to painting of fetus on wall* Dude, its got its hands up at its face the way cats do.
My sister: I-
Guido 1: What looks like a cat?
Me: I dunno. Are you gonna impregnate a cat and make an abomination half-cat-half-person and feed it banana flavored soymilk?
Guido 2: You're crazy.
Guido 3 (to my sister): This one's cute.
My sister: Thanks...
Me: Shes the cute one. I'm the one less likely to get raped. *blushes when realizing how NOT politically correct that is*
Guido 2: Raped? WTF?
Me: Well, if the rapist had a choice....?
Guido 1: You're cute too. I like your boots.
Me: Thank you Guido.
Guido 1: Dude, everyone calls me that! A thousand times a day! All the fucking time! Why did you call me a guido?
Me: I dunno. You guys are buff, you're tan, and you're wearing Ed Hardy.
Guido 2: Is he a guido? *points to guido three*
Me: Wow. You guys are awesome.

And it sort of ended there.
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5. The people who work in Hot Topic are really articulate and cool. Finally get to Hot Topic, tape and flyers in bag, totally prepared to fuck some shit up. My mom is a lawyer and she says its legal as far as she knows. And so I'm going to do it. I'm going to try to enlighten the populace. I walk into Hot Topic, bombarded by Alice in Wonderland merch and more scene kids then I can count. And a dude with a pin covered lanyard and spikey hair approaches me and tells me that I need to sign up for the new rewards program or something. And I tell him no, I never shop here, but he totally thrusts a clipboard at me. "Um, pshyeah, so lyke, I don't really shop here, cuz child labor is like, TOTALLY unpunk."
He matches my fake valleygirl accent. "Thats like, totes ironic. Why are we talking like valleygirls?"
"I dunno." I say. "Ohmigawd, you look totes cute today. Bradley is totally going to ask you out, then you're gonna get married and have like, ten thousand babies. Cuz you're so fucking cute."
"Ohmagawd, totally."
He rolls his eyes.
"You know, you remind me of Daria." he said.
I am totally flattered. I finish writing out my fake email adress and rush back to the changing rooms to do the deed.
6. I suck ass at doing things even remotely wrong. I pick out three shirts to pretend to try on. I ask the other dude in the store for the changing room key. I walk in, look in the mirror and bite off six pieces of tape, then bite those in half, then tape the flyers (that say hipsterrunoff.com and adbusters.org on them over and over again in repetitive neon and helevetica), slanted, on the mirror. The girl who will come in after me will probably be hoping that the pink zebra miniskirt makes her butt look perky, only to be forced to examine herself, her culture, and her impact on the world. But probably not. I will probably just piss off the guy that compared me to Daria. I blush. I freak out a little. I debate whether or not to take pictures. On one hand, proof I actually did this stupid shit. On the other hand, evidence. Eventually, I take pictures.
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Image and video hosting by TinyPic
I cheer up. I look okay. I feel okay. I am vain, kind of stupid, and probably not doing anything of merit, but I should feel good about myself. I am more of a punk then the kids buying Tripp Pants mere feet away.
I kind of hate myself for putting hipsterrunoff in the same category as Adbusters. When I was making these this morning, I wanted to include HR as a Christmas present to Carles. Now I realize thats retarded. Oh wow, am trying to enlighten these people? I am an arrogant cu-
"Dude? Are you almost done?" my sister calls. I put my jacket on and rush out, feeling like a dumbass. I grab her hand and run out of the store with all the grace and charm of a functionally retarded goat. My face is read and I'm breathing heavily.
"What is wrong with you?" she says, poised and elegant. "It looks like you stole something."
I stop freaking out. I don't feel so smart, but life is okay.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Oh My Goth: Stereotype Parfait, courtesy of MTV books

OMG Pictures, Images and Photos
Occasionally, on this blog that at least 5 people read, I will review some of the travesties of literature that I have come across. This is one of them. It wasn't discovered originally by me, but my friend Kyle (WHATS UP, MYSPACE FAMOUS!) at a rendezvous at our local library. It looked fucking horrible, we had to check it out.
Can't judge a book by its cover or something, right? Whatever, lets read the summary on the back.

Jade Leigh is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else.
Right off the start, LAME. "Be yourself" isn't the same as "be different from everybody else".
She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm.
Awesome, so you and your buddies are all exactly the same and as lame as every other goth in the country (and I guess Canada too...) but you think you're fucking GENIUSES because you prefer Hot Topic to Hollister and vampirefreaks.com to myspace.
They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Jade's smart mouth lands her in trouble -- again -- her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.
Oh my! Maybe she'll make you wear pink! Maybe she'll send you to detention and make you read the latest copy of Teen Vogue! Horror of horrors, Fake Exotic Sounding Stripper Name! Hijinks surely ensue!

Taken to a remote location where she is strapped down and sedated, Jade wakes up in an alternate universe-
Oh wait, this plot just got semi-good. Is it a sort of Matrix-esque "The cake is a lie" sort of thing where Stripper Name learns that her mindset is completly wrong and the goths, the preppies, and the old people need to band together and fight the robot overlords that control the corporations she inadvertently supported by "dressing goth"?
-where she rules the school.
Nope, just teen stereotypes. Oh noes, I guess her principal is Stephanie Meyer. She wrote the most scenetasticly tweenybopperish novel ever, knowingly sprinkling in PURE MORMON PROPAGANDA so that the zionists fund her publishing, her booktour, and her merch ventures. Of course, it becomes a cultural hit (all the the dismay of Miss Jade Leigh) and now goth is lyke, totally mainstreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam-UH. The popular girls (who really probably wouldn't be so bad if Stripper name got to know them) stop tanning and begin pining over the strong, silent (ABUSIVE) type. Sale of body glitter and vampire fangs go through the roof.
But her best friends won't talk to her, and the people she used to hate are all Goth. Only Clarik, the mysterious new boy in town, operates outside all the cliques. And only Mercedes, the Barbie clone Jade loathes, believes that Jade's stuck in a virtual reality game -- because she's stuck there, too, now living the life of a "freak." Together, they realize they might never get back to reality...and that even if they do, things might never be the same.
Aw. Pooie. Nothing original here.
Jade identifies as a "punk goth". I photobucketed "punk goth" and this came up on the first page:
punk / goth ?? Pictures, Images and Photos
This is pretty much how she was described in the book: Wears mostly black, hot but has "Bella from Twilight" syndrome and thinks she's an uggo fuck, blue and black hair (BITCH, I WANNA SWITCH HIGH SCHOOLS WITH YOU! I'M NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE FUCKING BLUE HAIR!), that doe-eyed look of noncomplex thought patterns, and ultimately, ONE DIMENSIONAL, like this generic anime drawing would be if I printed it out and forced my puppy to poop on it.
Jade identifies as a "punk goth" which is pretty much an oxymoron. When I think of punks, I think of people with mowhawks in plaid, leather and fishnets, yelling at policemen, screaming about "anarchy", and listening to the Ramones, even though they're republicans.
When I think of goths, I think of sad people of all genders and sexual orientations, wearing the same drab, uninspired black clothing, swaying in pure and utter meloncholy to some generic Cure song, crying and painting their toenails black....

I'm not even going to BS you guys, back on the subject of the Ramones, I just really fucking want to post this:



Hahahaahha! Oh yeah, um, punk and goth, punk and goth. *strokes imaginary beard* I guess when you put them together, you get Jade, the ultimate poseur. Jade doesn't really know who she is and clings to the goth subculture. Its not uncommon but the fucked up author woman attributed this to Jade's dead mom. Jade's mom died in a car accident and shouted at Jade that she had to be herself no matter what right before she died. Or at least thats what the book says. Jade, like most desperate entry-level alt girls, is probably a victim of M√ľnchausen syndrome. Her mom is clearly dead, so she can't lie about that, but I don't think it happened quite like that. I think her mom died of something totally boring and out of the ordinary and Jade just enjoys exploiting her mother's death and blaming all of her problems on it.
The entire book is sort of a blur of her bitching, and there is no way I'm reading it again, so I'll be skipping quite a bit. But theres a generic cheerleader character, and shes rich, blonde, mean, and perfect. But the one quirkalicious thing about her is that her name is Mercedes.
Stripper Pictures, Images and Photos
Fucked Up Author Lady Gena Showalter is either a super-clever humorist or the biggest dibshit around. You gave both your main character and your superevildemonincarnagegirlyhorribleprep a stripper name.
Mercedes like, talked shit about Jade's mom because Mrs. Gavebirthtomercedes and Mr. Spermenatedjade'smom are bumping uglies. "Jade's mom deserves to die." she said to her friend. Jade overhead and attacked her. Rivalry persists.
Then they're in the computer game and they could just sit around and deal with it or they could do the stupid thing and fight back. Mercedes was caught fucking this foozeball player in the library. Jade was all, "Bish PLZ!" to her math teacher. Principal makes their rents sign a waiver and traps them in Goth Purgatory.
Gena totally fails on goth subcultures. All it took was a quick browse of google images and urbandictionary to see that she fucked this up. Punk goths do not pocess an understanding of punk ethics and shop at the mall, preps shun Abercrombie and wear sundresses fucking everywhere, and cybergoths dress like rejected matrix characters rather then like the monstrosities they really are:
cyber goth Pictures, Images and Photos
I lie, I envy her ridiculosity.
They both hate Goth Purgatory, and band together to get out. Jade gets the mystereiousnewguy to help her and eventually he cracks the code. They get out and everything is wonderful again. Bottom line, buy this book. It will be the most wonderfully terrible thing you ever read. There is not enough blog to describe how fan-fucking-tastic this is. Its like a manual on how to be a poseur.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Autism

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Its nine thirty on a Saturday morning and I hate everyone. Its the first day of my winter vacation from school. I should be sleeping or hanging out with friends. I should be exiting some sort of rave, possiply high, maybe covered in the Extasy vomit of an overzealous first timer. I should be climbing the side of an abandoned warehouse, ass naked except for pink bunny ears, rescuing America's favorite stonedbehindtheeyes bassist from a mad scientist. Fuck, I should be watching VH1 Divas with my dog. Anything. I know what I shouldn't be doing. I shouldn't be cleaning day old shit from the bathtub.
You probably think that I am a teenage mom. No, this is my brother's shit. His name is James and he has moderate to severe autism. You have no idea what that means, right? Um, so like....Have you ever babysat a two year old? James will act like he is two for pretty much the rest of his life. (He's ten.) He shows no signs of mellowing out. Screaming, jumping up and down, watching Seasame Street, smearing shit and food everywhere, doesn't eat anything but Burger King, ect.? Pretty much him, except he also takes the shoe laces out of my shoes to dunk in toilet water, he chews vigorously on whatever shirt he's wearing, and he chronically masterbates. (My mom named his dick Tim as in "Stop touching Tim, James!")
And these past few days, he's been freaking out, eating everything he comes into contact with, and smearing shit everywhere. Last night, he ran himself a bath and brought my copy of Dial L for Loser into the tub to jerk off to. Then he defecated (i.e. SHAT).
There is a ginormous shitstain I can't seem to get out. I've tried vinegar, Oxyclean Scrub-Free (psh, LIARS), toothpaste with bleach, a little bit of my favorite volumizing color shampoo, and half a bottle of Clean and Clear clenser (It broke me out). I need more traction. I get some steel wool. Its got some dried on pink shit. I have no idea what it is, it could be mashed up alien egg pods for all I fucking know. What I do know is the steel wool got the dried up shit off and that all these products are probably giving me lung cancer. I look in the mirror. My skin looks like crap and my blonde roots are coming in. I cry a little. I wash my hands six times. They feel scabby and dry but they do not feel clean. I cry a little bit more. I check on my stupid family. I go on the internet and skim through about a third of the KKK's Vision for the Future just for shits. It reminds me of the screenplay I've been meaning to write. I am anchored to the house all day and eventually write this.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Feminist analysis of Taylor Swift's "15"

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You take a deep breath and you walk through the doors
It's the morning of your very first day
And you say hi to your friends you ain't seen in a while
Try and stay out of everybody's way


Okay, cool. I don't really care for the first day either. Hella weird, all the assemblies and shit....

It's your freshman year and you're gonna be here
For the next four years in this town
Hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say
"You know, I haven't seen you around before"


Aw, thats cute. I'm stuck in a small town too. Its kinda bull, man. I sympathize.

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
And when you're fifteen feeling like there's nothing to figure out
Well, count to ten, take it in
This is life before you know who you're gonna be
Fifteen


You only start a sentence with "'Cause" if someone asked you a question, Taylor. I am 15 and I know this. But you're probably right, most teenagers do not pocess a healthy amount of skepticism. You should question things and think them over. Authority doesn't always have your best interests at heart, kids.

You sit in class next to a redhead named Abigail
And soon enough you're best friends
Laughing at the other girls who think they're so cool
We'll be outta here as soon as we can


Wow, thats kind of judgemental. Maybe those girls are insecure and have home problems, so they channel it through social hierchies. But its a small town and there probably isn't much to do but secretly mock the cheerleaders with your ginger wingman. Again, this place sucks. I'm dying to leave as well, Taytay.

And then you're on your very first date and he's got a car
And you're feeling like flying
And you're momma's waiting up and you're thinking he's the one
And you're dancing 'round your room when the night ends
When the night ends


Taylor, you're behind. This was when I was 13. Now I try to have legit relationships with people I actually have stuff in common with, although I don't really expect them to-OHMAGAW, HE HAS A CAR? MARRY HIM, OHMAGAW!

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
When you're fifteen and your first kiss
Makes your head spin 'round
But in your life you'll do things greater than
Dating the boy on the football team
But I didn't know it at fifteen


Um.....I do. I know it at fifteen.

When all you wanted was to be wanted
Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now


Like, wanted how? Abigail wants you and cares about you and stuff. Your mom wants you and waited up for you after your date. Like, attracted to, wanted? Like waaaaaaaant to fuck you? OH. Um.....I sort of just sprouted boobs so you're a bit ahead of me there.

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday
But I realized some bigger dreams of mine
And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy
Who changed his mind and we both cried


WAIT. WTF? I'm assuming you mean Abigail's virginity. So Abby fucked some dude and then he dumped her. Thats not what bothers me, thats a common occurance. But its ALL SHE HAD? Abigail's worth lies in her hymen? Abigail has nothing else to offer the world but a tight lay? And that boy, did he give Abigail EVERYTHING HE HAD? Is his virginity all he had to offer the world, or is he an individual, with hopes and dreams and aspirations beyond condoms from the local Rite Aid and ten minutes in a sweaty backseat? Probably, but I guess Abigail isn't. I guess Abigail is just an empty shell now. Wow, Taylor! I guess now all you can do is comfort her and cry with her and continue not putting out, because you still have SOMETHING.

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
And when you're fifteen, don't forget to look before you fall
I've found time can heal most anything
And you just might find who you're supposed to be
I didn't know who I was supposed to be at fifteen


Oh, I get it now. Wow, Abigail sure knows how to pick them. I'm sure she regrets her decision, her tale is a cautionary one. But what about Lauren, who sits in front of you in sixth period English? I hear she hooked up with Craig over the weekend. Is she a failure too? What if she was just really horny? What if she doesn't expect emotional feedback from him, what if shes "pulling a Summer"? Does she still have anything, or is she an empty shell like your ginger bud? Are any woman who were too retarded to wait until they were married before breaking the protective seal on their pussies empty shells? Wow, what a wonderful message to send to young, impressionable teenage girls. I just feel so good about myself now! I'm still worth something! I'm still pure! Oh, happy fucking day! Wow, maybe if I practice SUPER HARD and I promise not to have sex with ANYBODY EVER, I can be awesome and famous JUST LIKE YOU, TAYLOR SWIFT!

Your very first day
Take a deep breath girl
Take a deep breath as you walk through the doors


And remember to breath! Thanks, Taylor, you're the best rolemodel ever!

Saturday, November 28, 2009

I'm wasting my life on the internet.....

I guess I could share with you what I found.

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I drew this for someone....and I never gave it to them. I'm a dick.

Spin is publishing a lot of stuff that I like lately. The first 6 of 16 Rock Myths Debunked is absolutly poetic. And they let you read the entire issue for free online. If you're concerned that I'm sucking the corporate cock of a magazine that is ginormo, and super popular, here is probably my favorite Zine ever, Babysue. Parts of it are a little too racisty to be considered sarcastic, but where else can you find A Parents Guide to Satanic Ritual Cult Abuse?

(WHEEEEE OOOOOOOH WHEEEEEEE OOOOOH BORING ANECDOTE AHEAD:I guess I should enjoy tangiable magazines while I can. The internet really isn't the same. I like the smell, I like the texture of the pages, I like when my sister draws mustaches and beards on the random chick on the cover, I like chopping it up and making it into a collage afterwards...its a sad thing to see go.)

I'm in love, you guys. And her name is Doe Deere. I stayed up all night reading the back 30 or so pages of her blog and drooling at her awesomeness. She makes blue and orange lipstick for a living and dresses adorably and adores neons and unicorns and funky shit, as do I, and is just all around great!
Okay, heres several pics of my new internet crush:
doe deere Pictures, Images and Photos
Doe Unicorn in the snow Pictures, Images and Photos
doe deere Pictures, Images and Photos
See, the universe is all DUDE, TAKE THAT OFF, YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS. WTF ARE YOU WEARING, PUT ON SOMETHING NORMAL AND LESS RIDONKULOUS but Doe is all, NO! KEEP IT ON, YOU LOOK AMAZING, DON'T BE AFRAID TO BE YOURSELF!

Have you guys seen piano stairs? WTF, the piano stairs are electric, right? So whats the point of getting more people to use the stairs if they BOTH WASTE ELECTRICITY? Does everyone within a five mile radius weigh 600 pounds? Sometimes cynicism needs to outweigh sparkles and sunshine, it pains me to say.

These are all twitters that I like. Pissed that no one really witty is pretending to be Steve Albini (Big Black, produced Nirvana's Nevermind), Dameon Albarn (The Gorillaz, Blur) or Mike Patton (Faith No More, being a fucking badass). May as well link my dull little pity of a twitter, if you give a fuck. XD

I have a new God. Its the toothpaste for dinner Random Livejournal Image Generator.
Its kind of like a Magic 8 Ball only way more magical. See, I mentally ask it a question, then I reload the page (set on only one image, but you can put more if you're adventurous) and the image answers the question I asked it. Its all seeing, all knowing, and tons of fun.
'Ere, lemme show you.
God, what kind of day will I have today?
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I think that means God wants me to work out and also be extra holy. Okay, what should I wear on all of today's adventures?
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Yay, thats the color of happy! God, will I maybe run into somebody kinda sorta special today? I'm sure you know who I mean, God!
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I.......don't know what that means. God, what is the meaning of life?
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Thank you, God! I think I understand!

Friday, November 20, 2009

Twilight Short Story, XD

zombie girl,zombie,girl
I remember my last normal day. I was at the mall with my sister Becka, shopping for the perfect outfit for my date with Robby. I needed to look better then I normally did....after all, this was the night I planned to lose my virginity.
Oh my gosh, Robbie and I had been going out forever...I had never felt this strongly for any of the other wads I dated. Just him. I kinda sorta figured that we would part ways when he went off to college next year, but that didn't faze me. Robbie made me SO HAPPY now and all I wanted was to show him....
Becka was weirded out when I told her.
"So you realize that it prolly won't work out?"
"Yup." I nodded.
"And you're fucking him anyway?"
"Totally."
She seemed confused. Becka was saving herself for marriage, but she would mack with any guy that asked. She was going to the local Christian college, but came home on the weekends. We didn't always understand each other, but we had kind of a strong bond. And so I drug her to the mall with me.
We passed all the shitty teenybopper stores and went into Hollister. The music was obnoxiously loud and the air hung thick with musky spray. She seemed distracted by the picture of the model on the wall but I drug her back to the dress tops.
"WHY ARE WE IN HERE?" she said over the pumpy poprock song.
"BECAUSE ITS CUTE."
"WHY DON'T YOU WEAR THAT BLACK TOP YOU GOT IN LA AND YOUR ASS JEANS?"
"I LOST THAT TOP THREE MONTHES AGO."
She looked at the spot above my head.
"I KINDA JACKED IT TO WEAR TO MY SORORITY'S FORMAL BUT I BROUGHT IT SO YOU CAN HAVE IT BACK."
I was sorta pissed but she agreed to go and buy me a beer to make up for it. We went to some stupid bar far enough away that we wouldn't run into our teachers or anything, but close enough that Dad wouldn't get pissed at us for wasting gas. Becka knew what she was doing. She ordered something for me that was sugared down enough for me to take it. Since she was driving, she let me get really drunk on her dime (and her ID). I figured, why the fuck not? I'm a great student (except for pottery, ugh). I'm on three sports teams. I don't smoke or take drugs that wern't perscribed to me. I even got approval from Mom on my decision to lose my virginity. And my sister wouldn't let anything happen to me. So I just got drunk.
It was an idiotic decision. Becka got distracted by something shiny and wandered off. Before I knew it, I was alone at the bar. The lights were kind of bright. I didn't care for it. I felt sick-ish. I didn't have a tolerance for any alcohal, let alone the crapload I just consumed.
A tall, pale man walked into the bar and a sort of chill went over the room. He had this look on his face, like he had just been forcefed a dirty diaper...I instantly disliked this dude, but he plopped down on the barstool next to me and started talking to me. I wasn't really paying attention to anything he was saying so much as praying he would go away...I was so drunk that I didn't really notice when he put his hand on my knee, then my waist, then my neck...And I didn't really notice when the bartender slipped back for a minute and he was helping me limp somewhere....
I DID notice, however, when he had me underneath him, draped over a Volvo. He was kissing me......ugh, I hated it.
"I....stopit." I finally got out.
"I have a boyfrien....an'....your mouth tastes like roadkillllll...."
He didn't stop. He put his hand up my shirt and felt up my C cups.....His hand was so dang cold. He pulled down my pants and stared at my shivering legs.
I started crying. "Please stop. I'm-I'm only sixteen. Please don't do this to me."
He didn't listen. He pushed me up against his car and slid in and out of me. Oh my god, even his THING was freezing cold. His skin...it didn't feel like regular skin, maybe it was just the booze but I swear it felt like stone.
I was fucking terrified. I couldn't move. "You know if you tell anyone about this..." he said. "...I...I will fucking kill you. And even if you do, no one will ever believe you." He smiled this awful smile.
He kept going for a minute or so, then he got on his knees and licked the blood off my legs...from my hymen, I guess.
"You asshole." I wanted to scream. "That was for Robby. I was going to fuck Robby and it was going to be awesome. I fucking hate you." I wanted to kick him in the face. But I couldn't. All I could do was stay still and cry, I was so scared.
He stood up again and looked me in the eyes. "I have a wife and a daughter. And I have a shitload of money. I'll never get caught. But just to make sure...."
He placed his freezing hand on my neck and bit down. I started crying even more. He was SUCKING MY BLOOD. Oh my god, it hurt so badly. It was terrible. Suddenly, he stopped. "WHY ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?" he yelled. I just cried and cried. He bit down on my neck again and sucked, then a third time. I remember giving up and accepting that I was going to die. But I didn't....
I woke up the next morning in a ditch. I looked at my arms. They were super pale and covered in my blood. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I looked around. I recognized this area, it was a couple miles away from home. I figured I already felt like crap, so if I started running now, I would be home safe feeling awesome in fifteen minutes or so. I started slow like they taught me in track practice.
When I got to the sidewalk, people acted strange towards me. They scrambled to get in the other direction. They screamed. I tried not to notice. The tears welled up in my eyes. I was so scared and confused. I just wanted to go home and hug my mom and dad and have Becka make me cookies shaped like crosses and rosaries then watch some stupid sitcom and sleep for a day and a half. Then I was going to report the bastard that did this to me.
I stumbled in the doorway and saw Becka, cooking some bacon and eggs. I ran over to hug her and tell her what had happened. But she screamed and ran upstairs. I followed her.
"Stop, what are you doing?" I tried to say. "Oh my gosh, please just tell me things will be okay!"

She yelled and pointed at me. I turned around and saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I looked SO TERRIBLE! Half my jaw was off and my skin was ghostly white and covered in gore. I started crying and ran out of the house.

I had nowhere to go but the woods. I stayed there for three days bawling and freaking out.

I thought about Robby and all the fun we'd had together and all the stuff we'd helped each other through. I thought about the time that I called him crying cuz I couldn't finish my math assignment and he climbed through my window at three in the morning to help me. I wondered if Robby would scream and run away from me like Becka had. It was too painful, I didn't want to find out.

I thought about my parents and how they'd always been really supportive. My mom had always told me that she was proud of me as long as I tried my best (and I lost a lot sometimes). And my dad woke up at six in the morning every Saturday for the past three years to take me to practice. I loved my parents. I didn't want them to scream and run away from me.

Lastly, I thought about my friends and how we spent most of our free time together, just talking and chilling and sharing slushies and nailpolish colors and tons of love. I wondered if they saw me, would they scream the same way they had when we watched the Texas Chainsaw Massacre last Halloween?

I slowly lost all sensation in my body except for an unpleasent sort of heat. My skin turned from the pale-ish color to a sort of green shade, like it was rotting away. I watched three of my fingers and two of my toes rot off the first day. The second day, I watched my right arm rot off. The third day, I realized that if I was going to die soon, I had to get revenge on the man who did this to me but I figured I would stay alive until my brain and my stomach failed completly. I remembered what he had told me about himself, he was rich with a wife and a child. What good was that going to do me? I didn't even know if he was telling the truth. Then I remembered something; he had a Volvo with a Forks liscense plate on it. I knew where Forks was. It was just a short run through the woods. And I had a friend that went to school there that told me about a bunch of assholes that had more money then they knew what to do with and never talked to anyone. The Clarksons or something. I ran through the woods as fast as I could and came to the highway connecting Forks and my town. The cars zoomed past, and some honked at me, obiously freaked out or something. I probably caused a traffic jam but I don't care.

I ran into a diner to get directions. The waitress broke a plate over my head and some dude at the bar took out his gun and shot me in the face but I didn't feel it. Some lady screamed, "PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABIES!" and I laughed, but all that came out was that gay noise again. I grabbed the waitress' pen and wrote on the wall with my left hand, "WHERE IS THE MANSION".

"Oh my gosh, it means the Cullen's place! Go down the street, then the woods, and go diagnol until you get to it....."

I threw the pen back at the waitress and ran out.

I got to a sort of squarish, layered expensive looking house. The volvo was parked in the driveway and a really pale girl with auburnish hair was buckling a baby into a carseat. I yelled a bit so my prescense would be known.

"EDWARD!" she yelled, and he walked out of the garage, looking surprisingly vulnerable. He punched me, leaving a dent in my face. Then he threw me at the garage wall. I was determined to kill this bastard, and I guess my adreneline was really high. Everything seemed to be in sort of slow mo...I looked around for a weapon and saw a long, silvery phallic looking thing. I grabbed it and pushed it through his heart. It made sort of a crunchy sound, like I had pushed it through a hardened statue. It went all the way through him. There was no blood at the wound sight. THERE. He was finally dead!

The woman and the baby were crying reallly hard now. I felt horrible, but then I remembered that this man was a murdered and a rapist. I started crying too and I knew they would be better off without him.

I guess someone had called the police because a bunch of them came and started shooting at me, all at once. I stayed concious, so they put me in a maximum security jail cell. I think my heart and my stomachare starting to fail, and I'm glad. I just want to feel the cold relief of death wash over me, destroying all this stupid mortal heat.....

Monday, November 2, 2009

Island fucking......

desert island Pictures, Images and Photos
Think of the most repulsive person you know. The stupidest, fugliest, snarkiest, shittiest, most unappealing human being you have ever met. And for some reason, you're on a plane with them. Its a perfectly normal plane ride, you go into the bathroom and masturbate when the turbulance kicks up, you banter with the flight attendant, you skim through this month's Nylon.....And then there are sparks. And theres fire. And you see the thin layer of skin on your signifigant other's face burn off. And you watch their jaw detatch. Its too horrible. Everything goes black.

You wake up in the sand. Its night now...you hear the waves of the ocean. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Where am I? Was that a dream? Am I dead? Is this heaven? Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit." You start to sob.

A warm hand reaches out to comfort you. Its the most reupulsive person you know. The worst human being in your tiny little world. But they're not anymore. They're alive. You're alive. And they understand what you just went through, because they're there. And they're crying too. You just lie there and hold eachother, crying without words. You smell them. A few hours ago, that repulsive smell (For me, its a combination cheetos, Axe/Victoria's Secret body spray, and genital sweat.) would have made you dry heave. But its comforting, it smells like life.

So, you guys are there together. Do you fuck?

Come on, in times of trauma, all common sense flies out the window. If you don't fuck them right there and then, you'd fuck them after a few days of not getting rescued. And its just you guys on this island. There arn't any savage cannibal darkies, like in racist fucking Blue Lagoon. Theres not really much to do. After a while, you probably give up on surviving and just fuck them.

Thinking about the most horrible person I know, I gotta admit that I'd tap that after two weeks of island dullness.

I had this weird daydream....The plane crashes. I smell burning flesh. Some of it is mine. My cheeks are hot from blood, smoke, tears, and sheer fear. I somehow get out of the plane okay, manage to pass out on the sand, and wake up with everyone dead except for this guy, who is conked out, still breathing, beside me:
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(He's a caption from my Health textbook. Supposed to be overdosed. Low def...I think he's cute. Shows what I do in Health class, get stupidass daydreams when I'm supposed to be getting scared off of doing drugs....)
His name is Todd and he's a total dooshbag. He's in this stupid little band that variates between classic rock and hard punk. Neither of us know this, but he recently contracted HIV from a dirty heroin needle.
Needless to say, we do some shit, end up dying, and the buzzards get our bodies before our families get the chance to miss us.
It doesn't really make much sense but thats my fucking daydream.
And thats my fucking life.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Mmmm, dibbly fresh!

This week, I read what might have been the worst book ever. I am not exaggerating. This book was terrible. Not even campy terrible, like SHA. Like the author thought he was writing Shakespere. He was like, halfway through it and he thought, "Wow, this book is the teen novel of the generation! Better not use so much slang so it'll age well. I bet they'll make an indie movie out of it! Wow, I wonder if they can get Natalie Portman...zzzzzzz.....z........z.zzzzzzzzzzz...."
Its called Flavor of the Week and with a title like that, I thought it was about a cute lil' alt-y girl who worked in an icecream shop and somehow made the flavor of the week tie into her problems every single week of her life. And I figured the cover would be really sweet and somewhat Dali-esque, sort of like this:
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"The dark chocolate ripple was sweet and savory, blending beautifully with the perfectly white vanilla. Just like Davon and me!"
And it ends when she quits and decides to be a vegan.
Is that too much to expect from a teen novel? I guess so, because Flavor of the Week was epically terrible. Heres the cover, which isn't bad but sort of disappointed me cuz of its lack of cute lil' alt gals and icecream and interracial love:
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The book is about a fat kid named Cyril Bartholemew. Cyril is freakishly good at cooking and thats pretty much all he does. He doesn't really have a personality. He's just a fat version of Gary Stu. Or maybe he ate Gary Stu. I dunno. Heres Cyril.
fat boy Pictures, Images and Photos
Anyway, as our story begins, Cyril is baking cookies and daydreaming about this hippie girl that he's in love with, Rose. Rose is a vegetarian and listens to the Grateful Dead stone cold sober and is ridiculously boring and Cyril won't STFU about how beautiful she is. He seriously keeps daydreaming about cooking for her. He planned out a meal and everything. Its one part sweet, two parts pathetic. Heres Rose.
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Anyway, Cyril is baking cookies for Rose's friend Jamie's birthday party. Cyril doesn't like parties, but he's infatuated and full of estrogen and so he just does whatever he thinks will make Rose happy.
Jamie is actually pretty cool. She drives fast, sleeps around, wears funky leotards, and actually eats. She is the only character in this book that I would voluntarily hang with.
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I want to party with Jamie. Anyway, convieniently, as it is with shitty books and shitty indie novels, something convienient to a generic plotline happened. Cyril's old bestie Nick moved back from New York. (Say Nick from New York three times fast!) And guess what! Nick is generically DREAMY! And guess what ELSE WHAT! He and Rose LIKE EACH OTHER!
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Nick is somewhat morally....off. I think we're supposed to attribute this to the fact that his parent's are divorced and that his mom is a druggie? Great characterization!
But Nick is insensitive to Rose's bland emotions! And also, Rose likes dudes who cook for some stupid random reason! So Insensitive Hunky Nick gets Cyril to cook delicious, delicious things for his Darling Rose and let Insesitive Nick take credit for it! OH NOES! HOW COULD THIS POSSIPLY END?
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If you've ever seen a Rom Com or watched the season finale of a teen sitcom or read a book of this nature or lived in western civilization long enough to cohesively construct abstract thought, you know how this book is going to end. But I sort of hoped it would be moar dif'rint. I sort of hoped that Cyril would lose some weight, get some new friends, get a therapist, develop a personality, and meet some other girl with a tie dyed chef hat and sad, lonely eyes. Hope was for naught. Heres what happened in between the beginning and the end of this book:
*Cyril talks about his girl problems to his only other friend (that the book mentions, maybe?) who is some random lady that owns a gourmet cooking store. She actually seems kind of cool, I wish there was more of her in this book.
*Nick gives Rose a cake that Cy baked and then expects her to fuck him, even though they've only known each other for three days. Of course she doesn't, of course they both bitch to Cy about the incident.
*Rose is chilling and thinking how great it would be to live in the 60s. Then she sees Jamie and thinks that she would be totally out of place cuz shes wearing a leotard or something. And I just want to jump in there and be all, Rose, you realize all they did in the 60s was drop acid and fuck, right? And all you do is sulk around thinking to yourself how hipster-riginal you are? Sure, Jamie would be out of place.
*Between being awesome and making me question my heterosexuality, Jamie figures out whats up (Like its hard?) and tells Rose. Cyril should've seeked out Jamie's help in the first place, but I have a feeling it would've gone something like this:
Megan Fox- Rose boy Pictures, Images and Photos
*Rose doesn't believe him until Nick bats his eyes at Cy, making him prepare Rose a dinner of aphrodisiacs. Nick's dog jumps on the table and eats a plate of food, Nick runs after it to make sure it doesn't die or something, and Cy came over to creeper stare at Rose. He sees her alone in her hippie-mazing-ness-ness-ness, and decides to bust a move.
*Rose like, flirts with him to get him to confess, but he just goes all Michael Cera and sits there blushing and trying to hide is woodie. Then Nick comes back and accidentally confesses. Rose flips out on both of them, needless to say.
*Jamie is totally a nicer, smarter version of Jennifer from Jennifer's Body because she keeps screwing these guys that never get mentioned again.
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Don't cry, babez. I still wuv yew.
*Cyril has this cooking audition thingy and totally fails it because all he thinks about is ROSE ROSE ROSE.
*In the end, Cyril makes Rose some chicken soup without chicken in it that makes her fall in love with him. And his cooking store bud, Alice, gets him another audition which he wins. And Jamie and the Handsome One end up together. Cyril is still boring. I was bitching to my mom about how lame this book was, and she told me that it was ment to be beautiful because Rose ends up loving Cyril even though he's flawed. Cyril didn't really do anything but pine over her the entire book, so thats sort of stupid. He didn't talk to Rose or Nick about his feelings except for a random confession to Nick that he loved her. He just sort of went with it. Cyril's fate was not his own, and I doubt he'll be very happy for long. Seriously, Cy! Get some therapy! Get some real friends! Eat a salad!
Happy ending. Happy happy happy ending. And I saw the author's picture on the back cover. I assumed it was somewhat autobiographical, and he would be this nerdy guy who never got the hippie chick back in high school and decided to unleash his pent up agression and sperm into a novely thing. But no. He's kind of hunkalishious.
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Kinda.