nice lighter

halfway through my first week of funemployment. went to see the wolfman yesterday which was only good for a gothy bloody cloudy day escape. bad acting, jesus, but heads being lopped off and vunerable gypsies to fill the afternoon. then the dude and i went to some free symphony time at nec. it was some devil music, tame as it were, and after two hours we realized the story-telling part of the program still had probably another hour and i was dozing off. dozing off like my head falling down and then waking up with a start/snort. went home, shower duo time, on and on. i'm like somebody's single working mom after a microwaved dinner, passing out sitting up at seven pm. i fell asleep before the intermission at the magnetic fields show. i doze on the bus. i doze in the tub.

so today all there is to do is smoke a bowl half-naked and watch moulin rouge in my bed. it's raining. step two is to get a tuna melt and some ice cream.

shop

blah blah blah picture time

now that i've taken my coffee shit it's time for some blogging. i cringed inside with that term. blogging...guh. next up i'll be getting an iphone and a smartcar.

woke up this morning with sweaty palms and a potential anxiety attack. my last day of work was saturday and now i've a week with nothing to do. too much free time makes me anxious. the last thing i want to do is run around and spend money but sitting in my house all day makes me crazy. saturday i nabbed all the items from work that have been a part of my days for three years, including a giant fake pocket watch that runs backwards and a stuffed baby croc wearing a sombrero. things that have been a part of the warehouse since before i worked there.

some of my favorite memories from the place are the multiple pairs of pants that someone had shit in before donating, the urn a co-worker dumped out without knowing what it was, the blackface baby doll that sang in a man's voice that the truck guys ran over to attempt to kill, the cremated cat, the boxes and boxes of gay porn...i could go on and on. people will donate anything. ANYTHING.

two things i'm interested in pursuing while in chicago are boxing and bartending. not bartending such as this:

http://www.grapesandgrainsnyc.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/hot-bartender-w-drinks2.jpg

but shitty dive bar type stuff. and dive bars don't have college kids dancing in them. i love the bars in the small-town midwest that my old man goes to: small, dark, smelly, surly old blue-collar drunks silent inside. everyone kind of looks like this:

http://www.bloggingwv.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/rednecks.jpg

my first boyfriend once shot a pheasant out the passenger side of my car which we then cooked and ate. he frequently had deer carcasses in his garage. did i grow up a redneck? pretty much.

for some reason boxing really interests me. i have a lot of anxiety and tension and a temper problem. i don't think i could box against someone...maybe. but i'd love to learn how to beat the shit out of them. and if i'm ever hard up for cash i could try foxy boxing, if that stills exists.

did i mention i'm totally stoked to live with two dudes? expecting the toilet seat to always be up. i hope they like chicks who don't wear deodorant or bras.

shit son!

it's set. new crash pad: belmont and western/roscoe village. no, not under the bridge you fucker. living with two dudes right near the beat kitchen. goddammit is right.

turtleneck

last night was the first time i had an uncut. i mean, i think it was. i couldn't really see. but it felt different. to which my response was awesome.

i was also in true form when moments before my pants came off, when there's the understanding between both parties that they will, i said:

"Uhh..I gotta tell you something."

dude: "ok..."

me: "well, i don't know how to say this.....uh....i'm...not all...female"

which took a minute, all drawn out with a lot of sighing.

dude: ".....uh, ok."

then i busted out laughing. hysterically. and thus he realized i was joking. it was the height of my comedic career.

good times.

wanna rock well

i fucking love norman rockwell. he was so talented. the pre-1940's illustrations blow my fucking socks off. i had this treasured/degenerating book of his works that was large and heavy enough to kill a raging bull, it's life span was coming to a close (previous owner had a dog or big rats that ate a lot of it) so i ripped out whatever i could use and chucked the rest. rockwell has got to be the most famous illustrator in america, not famous for his person but most well-known for his work. it's everywhere. and that's so much more respectable than andy warhol or jackson pollack or...picasso. schmuck. sorry! dude had SKILLS and wasn't trying to be a celebrity or even have social status. untouchable in my mind. happy birthday.

two new dudes moved in the big room next to mine. not a couple? just friends sharing a room? not yet sure if they're sharing a bed. whatever, man. anything goes in this house. it's possible someone's coming to check out my room tomorrow night. gotta clean room and hide anything creepy. not like it matters too much what kind of a person i am as i won't be living there and said curious objects won't be there...but don't want someone to think i was doing devil-worshipping or practicing santeria (which is not devil-worshipping, and apparently the term 'santeria' is like a mocking slang thing. huh.) aaaanyway, creepy shit's gotta go, curious mattress stains covered up (oh, like you don't have those) and so on. a right respectable room it is! hope you like walls as dark as night!

take the room. it's cheap. the housemates are great. etc etc.

i myself am looking for a room. feels like half the ones on cl are logan square, which makes me think it's a come-and-go young adult livin' scene. fine. whatever. works for me. what else we got. there's two right near the fireside bowl. is that still open? do they still do shows? wasn't it kinda ghetto before? gentrified now? hmmm. i am not a picky woman. i like a lot of people around and knowing that i won't get raped. mice-ok. rats-i can deal, roaches-blehhhh. no furniture, no laundry, no hot water...ehh. i'll get a man who has hot water. basically even squalor like a bohemian attic (consumption?) or punk squat (rotten crotch? not mine...mine's clean as a whistle. talking about the living atmosphere here) i can deal with. in fact, things that are too modern make me uncomfortable IPHONE/POD/PAD/probably anything apple)

i am not a picky woman.

i like living with men. a bunch of them. who have no intention of getting with me. like i've said before-maybe not here-i have a boy-gang obsession- in that i want to be part of one. dirty mouth, dirty clothes, dirty living (sterling genitals), not trying to fuck me even if i don't wear much clothing at home. a big band of brothers. this is what i want. like fight club. is it possible? not really. not on that scale, i mean.

butt