That one day.

We sat on the warm, crisp grass, planting ourselves right in the middle of the big park we had been driving all day to find. It was the most perfect park in the world, and it was lucky that we were stopping by. Guitars in hand, sunglasses on, hardly any clothes, we were a sight to be seen. The day was bright, the sun was hot, the surroundings unfamiliar. We swore that day that we were moving here, no matter what we had to do, we were moving here.

A feeling of contentment permeated our grins for those few hours. We knew no one. No one could touch us. We owned the town. This park was our park and we were singing in it. A perfect buzz had floated to our brains, the kind of day-drinking that makes you wonder why you never day-drink. Beneath the exterior of our over-dramatic antics our hearts were sad, and we were lonely. But not today. Not on this day. On this day no one could tell us a thing.

Days like this, they came sparingly. Between the endless Seattle nights, over-indulging on whiskey and cigarettes and falling on sidewalks getting skinned knees, and creating fake interests in men who bored us, days like this were treasured. The heartache of past loves and the feeling of monotony and boredom and pain all fell to the wayside on this day, and all we had was sun. And a best friend. And a good buzz. And a feeling that everything was right in the world, a feeling of unimaginable hope, if only for a few hours. You never realize it at the time, that you will remember this day forever.

A Story.

Can't go back now. The decision has been made in one swift, effortless move. I am starting to feel sweaty and excited. The kind of excitement you feel when you're spooning with a guy you like and are thinking about sex, or when your drug dealer answers his phone. The kind of excitement that makes you poop.

I look at him and I know it is only a matter of time, now. We lay around and do normal things. Go outside and smoke a cigarette. Walk inside and go on the computer. Look at things. Make pointless conversation. The kind you make when you're waiting for something to happen. You'll never remember what it was about.

I am not sure what to expect, so I continue on with my normalcy. When it stops being normal, I'll know.

In what felt like half a second, everything changed. It's as if it had crawled slowly down my spine and burst at once, combusting inside my little body, not knowing where to go or what to do, only that it was there.

I looked over at him and I knew he was starting to feel it, too. I sensed a panic in him, almost. Our sentences to each other felt brief, almost robotic. "You feel it?" "Um, I dunno." "I feel it." Conversation felt extremely weird, wrong. Distorted. My eyes roll back.

I am no longer in control of my extremities. I lay on my back and I feel like a cat in heat. When I breathe, the sound of each breath is magnified inside my head. I hear myself sighing loudly in and out, and I wonder if I am the only one that can hear it. I am not inside my head now, I am inside someone else's. I rub my body all over the sheets. I start to feel a little overwhelmed, almost scared. What is this that's going on? Will this pass? It felt to be too much.

My entire being is warm. Blood has rushed to every part of me, warm blood. Tingly blood. Happy blood. My eyes shutter as if I'm blinking them uncontrollably but I'm not. I open a piece of gum and put it in my mouth. It is shockingly sweet, and it doesn't feel right. It is as if my saliva is breaking it down, and it is disintigrating into nothing but a tiny strand as thin as a hair. I chew it hard, mouth opening and closing dramatically with every chew. My brain is spinning and I have no recollection as to what is going on or what he is doing or feeling, I am purely living for each single moment. I twiddle the gum wrapper between my fingers and it becomes smaller and smaller, until it disappears completely.

I stand and feel as if my head was once a bowling ball glued to that bed and now I am light as a feather. Every feeling I have ever felt in my life rushes up to my head at this very moment. I literally dance across the carpet, twirling around like a ballerina in long, graceful strides. This is quite the feeling. A grin overcomes my face, I am laughing. I am pursing my lips. I am grabbing my tits and running around the room. The cat is not a cat. The carpet is now my grass and I am in a meadow filled with flowers.

The Daily Whine.

I keep stumbling across people who are pretending to be deep by writing really emo, depressing-type blogs. "Underneath all the smiles, there's a sadness I can't explain". Really? Good to know. Isn't that like, 90% of the population? Look, if you really were as suicidal as you're making yourself sound, you would have shut down every known piece of technology you have a long time ago. You wouldn't be fucking blogging about it. Shut up. Shut up shut up.

Almost as bad as the quoters. "Dance like no one is watching". How about, "Fingerbang me while your cat is in the room". I like that better.

On another note, lots of things have been really cool lately. Although, they are not super interesting to read, which is why I prefer to complain about people instead. We can all agree that people are, almost always, doing stupid shit worth reading.

When I come up with more, I will surely update you.

Why I Love Yelp.

"I was excited to try this place after reading the review in the Seattle times.. I love Vietnamese sandwiches & have been looking for a good place in West Seattle.. The blond girl w/tattoos working was incredibly rude & unfriendly. I would've just left since she was acting like i was ruining her day by coming in, but I was starving.. so I ordered the tofu sandwich. She started making it, then a cute guy came in- she ripped off the gloves & asked him if he wanted his usual coffee. He said 'no just a sandwich'. I was shocked that she would move on to him when she was almost done slapping my sandwich together. I asked twice for jalapenos but she forgot.. I was so bummed cuz I hafta have em in my Vietnamese sandwiches- that's why I asked 2times. After driving a few minutes I was home & couldn't wait to eat.. The food here is NASTY! The veggies all were brown & old, the tofu was mushy & disgusting and she put so much mayo!! The bread was soaked- I could literally wring juice out of it! It was totally inedible but who would wanna eat something that gross?!?!! Bottom line: horrible rude girl behind the counter & substandard food. I hope the owner of this business can find someone who is actually nice to the customers & not just sitting talking to her girlfriends at work all day"

-Megan L (cunt)

Sweet Beautiful madam lol.

Example of the types of messages I receive:



"it looks like u re already taken but u re here on naked black men re u? Happy new year Sweet Beautiful madam lol,
just want u to know i'ld love to lick u right if u let me, make u sigh if u let me, massage ur back if u let me, kiss ur feet if u let me, cos i adore u, the way u look, i respect the fact u could be old enough to be my older sister if u re older or younger sister if u re younger, but i've found sweetness in ur name and pic like never seen before, and it wont be nice if i let u slip away without expressing my thoughts for you, holla @ your boi mam and u'll be happy u did cos in my eyes theres love, wont u agree?"

Carrots and other things.

Wednesday night. I lay in bed. Plate of carrots and ranch beside me. There is one carrot on the plate I refuse to eat because it has brown stuff on it. This carrot looks deceivingly gross, though I know it will probably taste much better than the flawless one beside it, which will probably be that one carrot that tastes like chemicals. Kind of a metaphor to life wouldn't you say?

The Simpsons is on because I like noise coming from the television at all times. I don't like The Simpsons, I never have. But it's either that or one of those new C.S.I. wannabe shows. Or a show called "Brothers and Sisters" which I pathetically tuned into a few nights ago about old people, and how they have sex. Also starring that really skinny bitch from Ally McBeal. (Score!)

And I was right. I just took a bite of the seemingly perfect carrot and it DID taste like chemicals. I am not making this up.

Wow. That plate of carrots and ranch sure did not suffice my unrelenting desire to get fucked up.

Sometimes I am so lazy that I will actually try to survive in extremely uncomfortable situations due to the sole fact that I don't want to get up. Take for instance, the heat. It's far too hot in here. So you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna open the window. Because the window is behind me, and the heat knob would require me to stand.

I often wonder what kind of person you would have to be to prefer cats over dogs. My perception is that people ONLY have cats because they, for one reason or another, can't get a dog. But to prefer a cat? I don't trust those people. Two out of every thirty cats is actually semi-decent, and one out of those two cats will end up being a fatass. That means you have like an 80% chance of getting a cat that isn't COMPLETELY fucked. People who prefer cats also don't know how to love, studies show. What studies? Just some studies. Whatever.

People who prefer cats also believe that the chicks in the "Loveline" and "Quest" commercials actually look like that, and aren't, in reality, twenty year divorced, middle-aged broads with deep, sultry voices and compulsive eating habits.

Jingle ballz.

I am not going to write any New Years resolutions this year because they're dumb. If there is one thing I have learned about myself up to this point it's that I will never exercise.

I think I have done all the changing anyone possibly could within the last couple months and that's good enough for me. Rather than tell a bunch of people I'm going to do a bunch of shit I'll forget about in a week, I'm just going to keep on doing what I'm doing. Because it seems to be working out.

If I could have anything for Christmas, repercussions not an option, I would choose a lifetime supply of Vicodin. There are times once in awhile when I wish someone would step on my foot really hard and break a bone or accidentally do something temporarily painful but not life-altering to me so I could get a prescription to Vicodin. I realize this is somewhat fucked and Vicodin's not that cool anyway, right? I know.

I have already forgotten about that thought though, and instead I'm going to talk about some other things that don't matter. Like milk, and how good it is.

There's a reason Santa drinks milk with his cookies. He has good taste. Although I do think Santa uses milk as a cover-up for his severe alcoholism. Why else would he be so fat with such a red, bulbous nose?

I like to think that people prefer hand-made gifts over store-bought gifts and this is how I justify buying myself shit during the Holidays.

It'd be cool if I walked into my room on Christmas day and there was a naked man standing under my doorway. Mistletoe or not, it'd be a nice surprise. Instead, I'm probably going to be experiencing Zoe in an ugly sweater laying on my floor eating yogurt and talking about how she really needs to get laid.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!