Vile herpe sore
Hurtful puss filled cock blocker
I gets no boo-tay!

You know the first time Katie Holmes appeared on a magazine with a fever blister I almost cried. I seriously thought I was the only person in the world (besides my mother who gave me that lovely genetic gift) who got these bad boys. I'd cry to God and ask him if he was punishing me for looking in the mirror for too long. If I was more vain than I thought...Turns out someone in my family tree was just a naughty little minx.

I pay for that naughtiness with special friends who come when I'm stressed, have a fever, eat a pickle, irritate my skin, or look in the mirror for too long and make God roll His eyes...

Men Talking Shit

I always seem to keep at least one guy bud in my midst for perspective's sake. What I've learned over the years from countless dude convo is men LOVE to talk shit about their girls/wives/significant others. It's like some kind of badge of stupidity to call your wife a ball and chain...to complain that she actually wants to spend time with you and your stinky balls and that YOU LIKE THIS...

I swear it's like some kinda weird Oedipus complex gone wrong. I'm trying to figure out when the disconnect happened...when someone first frowned over a man gushing over his someone.

I don't know, but I know I'm not going off on some crazy tangent. This video proves my innocence:


A while back I went over to a coworker's house to help her kid stir up his creativity. (Apparently his good for nothing teacher kept telling him he was a poor writer and he was feeling like I did as a kid--like a good for nothing writer who needed to keep her head in the science and math books.)

I went over, gave the fella some 'homework' assignments that included him taking photos and pairing odd captions with them...stuff like that. I made a friend...he was actually excited to create and the world was a better place.

Yesterday his mom came to work with one of his assignments ready for critique. She told me he was so pumped to show me his work of art...and a work of art it most certainly was.

I'm still trying to figure out if I'm helping the kid or if the kid is helping me. T Dawg ROCKS!

The God Kid

My baby mama (aka woman who birthed my God child) sent me a text yesterday that had me rolling so hard I almost popped my belly button off.

Basically, the youngest of the two thought she'd throw on a black sweatsuit and grab a black towel. She then proceeded to put the black towel around her shoulders like a cape and then ran around her home yelling, "Black Power!!! Black Power Girl!!!"

Note: She's a wee thing...too young and innocent to know what a fist and a black beret means. oh yeah, and she's mixed. lol

Her mom ended the text with, "Basically I had to sit her down and have a little chat."

Don't ya just luv kiddoes?! They keep life interesting and then some...

Spice Girls and Herbs

I was watching Jeopardy and WOULD have had that ish on tape, but alas I got into a HILARIOUS conversation with J that left me squealing like an out of breath piggy on the couch. The pause on my DVR tuckered out (it was a really good, long conversation) and so now I just have to describe the hilarious ish that I witnessed.

So basically these braniac Jeopardy folks are slaying through the questions. They get to Spice Girls and "Herbs" (how ironic) and Alex asks in the most Alex Trebek way, "This song states gimme what I want, what I really, really want" and the flipping three contestants sit there silently...perplexed.


I go ape shat to J...putting her on speaker, turning up the volume on the tele, and replaying the hilarious oddity that I've just witnessed. You see, J and I are kind of Spice Girl Groupies...We're all knowing when it comes to Spice Girl trivia. So you can imagine how we scoffed and carried on at these nincompoops who obviously didn't study the important stuff. Hmph

Love that ish...

It Burns!!!


My guy isn't a big fan of the "M word". He's not a big fan of the words, "we", "us"...you get the drift. I preface the next paragraph with this part because...

The guy's last birthday gift to me came--shipped from Paris. I opened it with glee and started squealing. He said he knew I'd like it...said it had Tish written all over it. Then asked me what it meant. The ring is from a wedding site called BHLDN...and says "Oui" on it. I told him it meant yes and then giggled.

Aren't I evil? I dig the ring because it's whimsical...no ulterior motives there to be the first woman in the history of the world to trap someone into marrying her :) Just tickled by the irony...actually dying over the irony.

Oh the irony! It burns! It burns!!!


Total side note: If I got two of these rings, I'd be rockin' "wee wee" on my hand.

Women Against THIS

There is nothing worse than strutting into work--cute outfit on, and then feeling a sock slip down.

OH THE HORROR! THE PAIN...of a lazy, good for nothing sock that refuses to do the ONE thing it was put on this earth to do...STAY UP! (That's what she said...)

A lazy sock is somewhere in the same torturous category as the water drop to the forehead. You know what I'm talking about, right? It's when secret men in black stick you in a chair and drip water on the center of your forehead...ever so slowly...in the exact same location until that spot goes raw and you finally spill the beans that indeed it was you who farted in conference room 8E the other day.

This has not been staged. I repeat, this has not been staged. This is an actual lazy ass sock and it made my life a living HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



My buds are getting hitched soon. They call each other Loverchini and make your heart do little skips to "Celina and Omar sitting in a tree" whenever you see them together. I received the invitation to their boda and swooned over the real, honest to goodness waxed stamp on the envelope.

Who said romance is dead?


Listen to the mustn'ts, child.

Listen to the don'ts.

Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.

Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...

Anything can happen, child.

Anything can be.

~Shel Silverstein

Analogy Friday: Pain

That was almost as painful as sliding down a slide of razor blades (bare butted) into a pool of alcohol.


Enjoy your Friday...

Hope Floats

Clear day, clear thoughts

Clarity blowing in on simple breezes

Clouds of hope floats

Pass right on by

Rated E for Estrogen

Fun words and phrases from the flick, Beastly:

Can I buy a vowell?!

Fun Visuals:

Beast boy's pecs 

The witch's wardrobe

The pretty ever-changing tat on Beast Boy dude

Vanessa's skin. Man how I miss being a perfect little teenager.

Fun Folks:

NPH! NPH! Dude steals the movie, I'm afraid.

J asked me if this movie is worth checking out. That all depends on what kind of movie lover you are...Some people can't handle this amount of cheese. The dialog is painful at times, the sound mixing too, but the overall story is frickin adorable so I loved it despite the hiccups that would normally have me storming out the door.

There's just something about the story of a gal who loves a beast. (The feminist in me is twitching her justified ass off.)

So my answer to J? I told her she had to go see that one alone...if she were to take Mr. Perfect (her husband) he'd probably lynch her using the rope from tampons.


This right here is a beautiful thing...

I mean really, honestly...come on, how many folks do you know would rock Manolos or Jimmy Choos with holes in them? Crickets...Yeah, that's what I thought.

...Chucks...It's all about the Chucks! They're comfortable, they're just the right amount of old school and they make me feel awesome sauce as J would say.


Grey, tattered Converse
My secret source of power
Walking my own path

Word to your mother.


I actually meant for this to post a month or so ago but other stories kept knocking it back into the edit pool.

Poor little post...Strangely, everything really does happen for a reason. Today is the perfect day for such a song and its meaning:

Smile though your heart is aching

Smile even though it's breaking

When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by

If you smile through your fear and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You'll see the sun come shining through for you

Light up your face with gladness

Hide every trace of sadness

Although a tear may be ever so near

That's the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still worthwhile

If you just smile

That's the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still worthwhile

If you just smile

Seriously, everytime I hear this song my heart turns into a big puddle of cry.

A Sweetest Gift

For my birfday this year, my darling kid sis sent me the most beautiful earrings. She made sure to tell me how she took her lovely little time looking for just the right gift and by George did she find just that.

I love opening packages from her. She lives in S. Korea so all of her stuff has Korean characters on it that she wrote. It's so sweet to see her handwriting...Somethings never change, even when geography does.

The earrings are dainty and sweet and so lovely...the sweetest gift. I swear I giggled like Betty Rubble.

You can imagine how much I wigged out then when I got home yesterday and realized one of my danglies was missing. I frantically hung up the phone on my bestie (sorry about that J!) and ran out the door; perfectly OK with backtracking my whole damn day to find those things. They came from my sis! She picked them out in SOUTH KORE-UH...I wasn't giving up without a full out search.

I went to the post office...I walked with my head down scaring the pedestrians passing by. I then drove my arse BACK to my therapist's office and started walking the streets-head down and determined.

I kept praying to the Big Guy and imagining what I'd feel like once I found the precious treasure and VOILA, EUREKA, HOT DOG! I found it! 

If someone puts that much thought into a gift, I have to put that much thought into keeping it dear to my heart and earlobes.

Paying it Forward Awards

Woo to the hoo!

I received a Pay it Forward Award from nluvwthmybstfrnd who writes a snazzy blog called My Voice. (You know me and my blog obsession...I was going through my daily reads when I came across her post. Nearly peed my pants.) She nominated little ole pervy weird me and made my heart do three kinds of pumps similar to what looks like a human pelvic thrust.

Back to the award, though. Basically it's an award given for either inspiring or entertaining someone. I'd always hoped my posts concerning pelvic thrusts, doctors who act like twats, and my obsessions with Asian men would resonate with folks out there in cyberspace...And they did!


Now that I've been given props it's now my duty to follow the rules that come with said award:

  • I must link back to the person who gave me the award. Mentioned her above, but just in case, read My Voice. She's a hoot.
  • Tell ya'll 7 things about myself. The rules don't specify whether or not these have to be 7 things I've never told anyone so that one's pretty darn easy. (I tend to dance with TMIs so finding 7 secrets would be HAWD.)
  • Give the award to 5 different blogs
  • Contact them and tell them they've been worshipped.
Easy enough!

  1. My name is Tish.
  2. I love the color green. It has the ability to make me squeal like a piggie.
  3. I like foo dogs. I seriously believe I was a Chinese woman in a past life...which is why I think I'm sort of obsessed with the culture and the darn dogs.
  4. Speaking of dogs, I want a French Bulldog really bad. I want to name her Petunia and pull her in a green wagon. I've wanted this since I was a youngin'.
  5. I moved to Los Angeles to act, but because I suck at sucking (read that however you see fit) I have yet to land a gig in a film. The closest I've come is non-speaking roles on the Young and the Restless and All of Us.
  6. I write occasionally for a snazzy fitness blog called http://www.fitbottomedgirls.com/. It's opened up some amazing doors for me; allowing me to travel, meet great people and try workouts I never saw myself ever trying.
  7. I live with a guy who I refer to as Jersey. Our story is a weird one. We started out as friends. I woke up one day and decided we were soul mates...had to wait a looong time before he would see it my way (like almost a year) and then we started dating for realz. Definitely not out of a fairy tale book, but if he can stand me after I've created World War III in my butt and I can stand him after he's forced me to sit and watch a terrifying horror movie...well then that's just precious.
...And now the Five Blogs who are so bad ass they should have a movie sort of like Kill Bill...except instead of being bad ass assassins, they write bad ass stuff that makes me act like a bad ass, design like a bad ass, dress like a bad ass, and drive in my totally gay wonderful car like a bad ass.

The Write Christine :  I love, love LOOOOVE books. Big ass bookworm I am, I was delighted to find this blog. I love the way she writes. I love the books she brings to the table. She's like the underground hipster-like chick of blogging...without all the real hipster-magnet books.

Au coin de ma rue :  This one tickles me rotten because it allows me to be a fly on the wall...which is why I love reading blogs in the first place. Basically you get a pic of a cool arse person and all the little fascinating items that make them them that they're carrying on their persons. And when you click on the picture you get a nice little bonus--what they looked like a year ago from that post. Genius, I say!

Oh Joy!  :  She's kind of the princess of perfect. She'll blog about fashion and yummy treats and design...Basically any and all things pretty. I like taste makers, cool hunters, etc. My eye is slow, stubborn and quite special so it's fun to see people with a talent for knowing what's groovy before J Crew has told me so.

Peace Love Nicole :  She has a pup named Kiwi. It doesn't get any more cooler. This chickadee writes about any and everything. She gives the 411 on movies, sprinkles in some home improvement videos from to time and makes me giggle at least once a day.

Sluice :  Oh how I luuuuv me some Sluice! Not only does she live in my hood and make it look totally snazzy on the screen, she also has a snazzy eye for design and clever banter. I drooled a bit when I read my first Sluice post. Just saying...Even Jersey dropped some spit.

Doctor Ego

So...I really don't like my doctor. I used to go to this semi-decent chick, but she retired and Doc Ego took her place. This is why I loathe Doc Ego:

  1. One time I made an appointment because I was experiencing dizzy spells, my teeth were hurting, my SINUS cavities hurt and I couldn't breath. Most normal human brains have already figured out what could have been the problem, but not Doc Ego. Oh no...He loves to bleed people financially dry and watch them suffer as he plays the guessing game. He wanted to run $500 worth of tests to figure out what the problem was. I promptly went to my car, ripped up the lab requests and went to an urgent care where I found out I was suffering from a simple sinus infection. Twat.
  2. When the work-appointed therapist told me I needed meds two years ago and I told my doctor what she said, he asked me what I'd like to try out...Like I was ordering dessert or something from a menu.
  3. Today he sucked his damn teeth when I told him I was seeing a therapist. He immediately asked for her name and dissed on the therapy technique she's going to try out on me. Mind you my face lit up as  I told him this.I've been suffering from the blahs again and finally someone wants to give me real answers...And he has the audacity to try to rip that joy away from me?! Twat.
  4. I went to see an Ear, Nose and Throat Doc the other day because my allergies and sinus issues have been off the chain. It only took him seconds to look in my ears and nose that my allergies are going crazy, I have chronic sianitus and a deviated septum. I told Doctor Ego about this and he scoffed yet again and said I don't have allergies or the other issues. Really?! I asked him why my throat was itching like it was on fire and how I had to take hard core allergy pills in order to ease my suffering. He said he didn't know what caused that, but it wasn't allergies. Really jackass? Twat.
  5. I told him I was looking for other alternatives other than drugs for my depression...looking into allergy issues (could be why I'm exhausted a lot of the time)...my diet (they say carbs and sugars can mess with your moods)...even my work environment can affect my highs and lows. The mother trucker had the nerve to scoff at this and say I should just stick to Lexapro. Then I kid you not, the twat actually said, "Patients suffering come to see me, begging for relief. I give them Lexapro and within 2 to 3 weeks these people are coming back to my office telling me I'm a god for helping them. I tell them I'm no god...but you know..."

YES, the twat actually bragged about being a god. He then whipped out his iPad and apped my prescription refill in to Walgreens. I almost threw up in my mouth.

I kept going to him before because I needed those damn drugs in order to maintain sanity (literally), but now that I have a team of folks working to make me better and looking at ALL aspects of what can make me better, I'm firing Doctor Ego. There's nothing worse than being depressed...no energy...no hope...no will to keep it moving; and have to exhaust anything you have left to find a doctor. It hardly ever happens actually. Heck, J had to call my gyno and tell him there was an issue and if he didn't find me someone to help she'd make his life a living hell (In so many words) because I just couldn't fight anymore.

Dog days are over, yo!

Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, I am free at last!


Analogy Friday: Willingness

I accepted it like a stripper accepts dolla bills in her thong.

Gangster of Green

Happy St. Patty's Day!!! Oh glorious of glorious days! A day that's all about my favorite things: my grandma, the color green and IRISH STUFF!!! woo to the hooo!

In honor of the joy that this day brings me every.darn.YEAR I give you pictures of people and places that make this day snazzy.

...And also a gram of mine. She taught me that REAL Irish women should drink dark beers

...And another gram of mine. Some year I'm going to find the perfect green flower to send her for her day

That's me loving the green UP

Gangster of Green

30 for 30

My home girl bestie sent me the snazziest box, plum full of goodies that were either green or relating to the dirty 30. The only problem...the United States Postal Service decided to take 21 of my 30 gifts...They left me with 9. (Sorry had to add that last part for those mathematically challenged.) The sad part was/is I never would have known stuff was missing if I hadn't been on the phone with her . She asked why I wasn't pulling out the rest and that's when we figured out I had been hoodwinked...bamboozled...violated ON MY BIRTHDAY. I got teary-eyed. Not because I couldn't go on living unless they returned the green pinwheel she had packed, but because someone was crappy enough to decide to steal something so special to me. SO.NOT.COOL.

Have you ever had anything stolen? There's this weird thing your brain goes through...In one sense I felt like a spoiled little brat. Why shouldn't I just be happy I got anything at all? Maybe the person who stole needed that pinwheel like Charlie Sheen needs an interview. Then I switch to, "EFF THAT! I deserve my birthday gifts. They were meant for my heart and I shouldn't be made to feel guilty for wanting them!" Then I cry and repeat the whole thing.

Days later I'm still tiptoeing around the idea of 30. It's started kind of odd. Hoping it picks up some momentum soon.

A tiny silver lining in this sad little story: When I was on the phone with the USPS claims person, she asked me to list out the items missing. That list consisted of a hipster bracelet, green nail polish, green eye shadow, chives plant grow-pot, a thyme plant grow-pot, green Disney princess stickers, Starbucks (green) gift card, iTunes card, pinwheel, green ball that flashes, green highlighter, green pen w/flowers on it, a frog wind-up toy, a green moleskin journal, Larabars (green apple of course), a green bow tie, green tic tacs and many other snazzy things.

The woman's silence judged me and I giggled. I belong to a new generation of 30 somethings...We're goofy and weird and we most DEF dig thoughtful gifts (that only make sense to us)...whether we actually physically get them or not.

Mean corrupt thieves 0, silver linings 1.

From Mo...

So my mom sent me this and had me BAWLING at work. I really am blessed to have such wonderful people in my life. I swear this woman of mine had to have been my road dog in past lives. She's just too groovy for words. Growing up with a teen mom definitely had its advantages. We're close in age. (She had me when she was 17. I was the baby the doctors told her she'd never be able to have.) We're just close:

To My First Born: 30 things I never knew before you

I never knew what I was capable of before you,

I never dreamed I could love so deep until you.

I never understood my Mother until you,

I never knew what the power of love could do until you.

I never knew what joy meant before you.

I never knew what it was to be incredibly delighted before you.

I never understood beauty before you.

I never knew how someone could take your breath away before you.

I never knew me before you.

I never knew what a dream come true really was until you.

I never knew what an honor it is to be a Mother, until you.

I never knew what true happiness was until the first time you said Mama.

I never knew how precious life is until the first time you were sick.

I never knew how empty life could be until the first time you spent the night away from me.

I never imagined perfect bliss, until the first time I held you.

I never knew my own strength until it came time to protect you.

I never knew heartache until the first time your feelings were hurt.

I never knew the thrill of watching my daughter eat her first Birthday cake.

I never knew the thrill of buying a pair of shoes with a purse to match until your first Easter.

I never knew how amazing God is until he blessed me with you.

I never knew I would enjoy watching someone sleep until you.

I never knew how exciting it could be to watch someone else open a Christmas present, until you.

I never knew the thrill it would give me to hear a little voice say I love you Mommy, until you did.

I never knew I could be so filled with pride until I saw you walk for the first time.

I never knew how lonely life could be until you went away to college.

I never knew how great a reunion was, until the first time you came home from college.

I never knew life could be so good, until you.

I never knew I would give birth to my best friend.

I never knew that someone else could define who I am, until you.

I never knew that with each year that passed I would love you even more.

Happy Birthday to my firstborn. You make me so proud and I love you with all my heart. I am overjoyed to be your Mom.

The Best Birthday Weekend EVAAAAH!I

It all began with some random...

Friday night the guy and I found ourselves watching Ramona and Beezus. A 29 year old...a day away from her 30th birthday spent the night snuggled on her couch with her fella laughing her buttocks off. I loved Ramona Quimby as a child. Loved reading those books...That movie reaffirmed that I ROCK at picking out sheroes!

Saturday Jersey got me a hot stone massage at this spot in Santa Monica called Petite Spa. Tasha, my angel, took those darn hot stones and went to town for 75 minutes...I left floating and glistening with zenful peace. Great gift idea from the mister...The whole place was decked out in green. Apparently, the owner changes the decor all the time and it just happened to be green when I was there. I swear I was destined for pampering.

Saturday night was perfect...Jersey and I met up with 14 awesome peeps for some grub at my favorite LA spot, Bottega Louie. The whole place is amazing. Food,atmosphere, people...It's a dream wrapped up into some mmmm. That's where the poop cupcakes came in. Yes, you read that correctly. A friend has a friend who has a cupcake boutique and made different poop-designed desserts for little ole nasty me.

On my actual birthday I ate breakfast at my favorite breakfast nook and went and saw The Adjustment Bureau with friends. That's where I met "Manny" (Rico Rodriguez) from Modern Family. I geeked out and then some and finally got up the nerve to ask for a picture. He is the coolest kid EVER...hella smart and kind. Later, when the whole theater shut down due to a fire alarm (yeah I had some weird ju ju happening yesterday...) we saw him again while we were waiting. He walked on over to talk to his new friends with his mom. Jersey and I both agreed we wanted to befriend him...a kid. Yes...He is a cool old soul. I dig old souls.

At one point on Sunday I started crying my eyes out to the guy. Despite all the weird hang ups of the day I felt so blessed to have such wonderful people (including him!) in my life. I had all the love in the world surrounding me as I crossed into my scary 30s.


It's coming...

I'm about to turn 30 tomorrow...

I've learned to avoid stores that have less than five pieces of frocks hung up and glorified. The air in there is more expensive than my car.

I've learned that cute aint' worth the bunions. I've accepted that heels and me have a love/disdain kind of relationship. They can come into my life for a couple of hours once a month (if that) and that's all. After playing with those bad boys for a night, I want to tie cement blocks around them and drown the mo fo's.

I've learned to never say never. Actually Feivel told me that when I was five, but I didn't get that I'd actually be in that group until my latter years.

I've learned the reasons why I battle with self. There's an idyllic me and who I really am. I haven't really gotten to that kiwirific place where the two come together and have inner peace, but at least I realize there's some match making in my future.

I've learned that the last day of your 20s is WEIRD. I don't feel different. I don't feel like I'm about to walk through an invisible force field of wisdom...and I'm just now realizing that I kinda thought I would. I was 13 when my mom turned 30. It seemed like a big deal to her. She faked the funk on that force field...swear she did.

I've learned. Period.

I'd say the 20s did everything they were supposed to do for me, personally. That epiphany alone means I'm getting more wrinkles...IN MY BRAIN!

Yeah, I did it...

The Potty Diary

...I started a new blog for all of my potty stories. Idea came from that snazzy bestie of mine, J. Aint she a fart smeller; I mean a smart feller?!

Analogy Fridays: Disgust

This one comes from my dear friend Twinkie:

My kitchen looks as bad as Flavor Flav's balls.

The Write Christine

I found a new bloggess and she posted a lovely list of phenomenal women writers that had me captivated like a mother trucker.

I kept coming back to one writer in particular, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Not only did she prefer to be called Vincent (My biological daddy's name that I heart so dear) but she wrote a poem that made my heart double thump in recognition. Her words have meaning and then some for little ole me:

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends–
It gives a lovely light!

An LA Love Story

Yesterday was a hard day. It unfortunately involved one panic attack, two crying meltdowns and three hours of quiet time to get over said day.

As soon as the guy got home we raced to church so that he could participate in Ash Wednesday's ceremony. Is it OK to call it a ceremony? I'm so church illiterate. Anyways, it was there in church that I had my second crying meltdown I mentioned earlier. Something about being in a beautiful place filled with warm, happy people and hearing a kind priest describing just the kind of day I had was a bit overwhelming. So I cried. The guy held my hand and then he took me to sushi (which always cheers me up) and that's where I experienced love. No, really...The roll is called "Love, Love" and it melted my heart just enough for the fella to not have to shake the effing shat out of me in front of the soy sauce.

We find love in the strangest of places...in the strangest of ways.



In Focus


Yesterday I sent this picture to the guy. I made sure to follow the link up with "!!!!!" He replied back to my exclamations with a bit of bah humbugginess and that's when the schooling began.

While at first glance this pic may seem like any other pic taken by a Joe Schmo, if you remove your head from your sphincter hole, you shall find that EVERYTHING is in focus. EVERYTHING!

I sat and looked at that picture for a good straight 5 minutes without blinking. (My corneas now require special eye drops.) I'm not a photographer...like no talent--whatsoever--so this kind of stuff makes me sigh in harmonious awe.

The power of Dooce is just too many thangs ya'll!

An Offbeat Sensibility

"It is about the worlds we dream inside our fishbowls, helped by the weird reflections on the walls." ~ A.O. Scott

Having an offbeat sensibility is fabulous dawlings. I'm a genius, really. I found a way to make myself bust a gut laughing using simplistic elements of human nature--farts.

I don't care how pristine and refined you are. When someone lets a sneaky one out, the room's gonna erupt with laughter...And that laughter shall begin in my corner of the room--not necessarily the fart...but always the laughter!

A couple of years ago I caught this lovely mother/son moment. A true classy broad would have more than likely deleted this. Since I'm not one, I coveted this bad boy. Knew I'd need it on rainy days. Just "lucky" I was in the car to capture the magic.

Strange Fruit


I was skimming an Apartment Therapy house tour when I clicked on this room. I clicked to the next picture; then I clicked back. Had I really just seen what I thought I saw? Whoa...

It's been a minute since I've seen art that's stirred something emotional in me. This pisses me off and saddens me in so many ways. Do I think the folks who own it are wrong for putting it in their home? Not at all! That's what arts supposed to do, but I don't think I'll be putting anything in my space that makes me want to weep and sing "We Too Shall Overcome" anytimes soon.

Feeding the Familiar

I've been saying for a LOOONG time that I'm no adult. Nope. Sorry...That ain't me. I'm about to turn 30 and I SWEAR to Nordstroms I have no idea what that means. People tell me that and my head cocks to the right much like a special dog does when you're asking it questions.

I'm not scared of aging or anything lame like that...I just seriously, honestly DON'T.FEEL.LIKE.AN.ADULT.

I've made a list of reasons why:

  1. I'm not married. This counts dang it! That's something big kids do!
  2. I still have to have cereal in the morning or my day is just all kinds of bad.
  3. I laugh when I hear people say penis.
  4. I wear goofy socks. Grown A women do not do this. Promise.
  5. I have Rainbow Brite The Movie in my Netflix queue. Not for memory's sake, but because that movie actually totally rocks.
  6. I can't sit still at work. I can't pay attention...I tend to squirm and doodle. I'm not meant to work for The Man. At least not right now anyways...I want to go back to working at Worlds of Scum or something.
  7. I wear bunny socks to bed.
  8. I still believe monsters can get me at night time.

I may be turning 30 but I'm STILL a kidult. You thought you'd heard the last of that word....NEVAH! I'm just waiting for the moment it'll finally click and I'll feel like an adult.

Just hoping when that day comes I don't self combust in self defeat....I associate adulthood with prune juice. Lots of prune juice...and I'm already gassy enough.

We Danced Anyway

I've had an interesting and rich dating life. While I'd rather not revisit many of my  fuckups oopsies from the past, there are some that bring nothing but giggles and good thoughts.

My first real high school boyfriend will always stick out as swoon worthy in my innocent heart of hearts. I was the geekiest of geeks and he was the cutest of cute boys. I remember running out to my best friend's older brother's car on the first day of high school and about tripping over my big feet when seeing him in the passenger seat. He was the cutest boy I had ever seen and my heart skipped about four awkward beats.

I crushed on that poor boy for MONTHS and then  one day my whole world changed when my bestie told me we were going to the haunted houses...and that mr crush had asked if I wanted to be his date. THE older, popular, hunky of all hunky beef cakes of hunka burnin' love ya'll! We went to that haunted house and that boy held my hand...just slipped it over mine like it was nothing....And then this hot-breathing werewolf came up behind us and sent him running ahead (without) me. That whole punk move act didn't matter though; the deal had been sealed. I was in puppy love.

Of course it didn't last long. His popularity minus his douche bag friends minus his inability to stand up to said friends left him with nothing to handle my geekocity. It equaled an ugly, but yet kick ass (on my part) ending.

While that ending stuff gets fuzzy over time, that moment when he held my hand will never fade.

I listened to a lot of Deanna Carter back then...She was country, which wasn't the norm for me, but she was just so darn whimsical. I've always been a sucker for whimsical. My heart may have been puppy-love crushed that year, but I still catch myself humming that song.

There's lessons I learned from the breakup...went through that teen angst stuff we laugh at now, but all those lessons never clouded that sweet innocence that made me start humming this song down the hallways of my school. Funny, I kept dancing anyway.


Believe it or not, I still know what it feels like to be the lone ranger at a party. (Just cuz you get a boo doesn't mean you'll be able to find a surgeon who can join the two of you permanently at the hip.) I went to Northern California for the weekend to attend a birthday party and found myself feeling that familiar feel...I looked around and by-gosh-be-golly I saw that I was the lone ranger of the group...the 35th wheel...The stinky rotten cheese...

It was couples central up in that piece, yo! I'd get all excited because a dude would show up and comfortably walk around solo only to find out his chick was just running late. I wasn't feelin' the lone ranger status to say the least. At one point I went into the game room to play some Wii solo and try to accept my painful party existence, but then SHE walked in.

My darling new friend, K Diva Dawlin, strolled in--owning her lone ranger-ness. She floated forth and my smile returned.

You can call me lame...but I need a homie at a party like a starlet needs a chihuahua. Seriously.

Turned my whole night around.

...So thank you Ms K Diva Dawlie for being the Silver in my life.

♪ + ♥

I created this playlist last week because I needed tunes that would tickle me green:

  1. Marry Me ~ Train
  2. Love Love Love ~Tristan Prettyman
  3. Love ~Matt White
  4. Gotten ~Slash (featuring Adam LaHottie Voice)
  5. My Love ~Sia
  6. Heavy in Your Arms ~Florence + The Machines (of awesomeness)
  7. I Never Told You ~ Colbie Caillat
  8. A Love That Will Last ~Renee Olstead

...Short and sweet.

That's what she said.

The Arclight

...someday I shall collect and when I do you shall find lovely little bits of awesome to sprinkle around my abode.

I love the Arclight theaters in Los Angeles. They're so artsy fartsy. There is always snazzy art and cool walls of wicked retawwwded stuff to gaze upon. It also helps that teeny boppers refuse to go here because tickets are too expensive. The folks there also provide watermelon BBQ sauce with these chicken sausage hot dog things. What?!

Theater mecca.Indeed.

Friday Analogy: Fear

I'm as scared as a jailbird who's just dropped his first bar of soap...

Prayer and VODKA

Do you know how hard it is to be a perky, happy chick trapped in the body of a depressed twathead? It sucks balls. Major balls and apparently I'm super snazzy about hiding the fact that I'm sinking back into funks. I can even hide it from myself.

I've been feeling a bit 'off' for the last couple of months. I've been really tired all the time...lethargic. Haven't wanted to do anything or be around people...and somehow I never clued into the fact that maybe, just maybe, my happy pills could be sucking. Apparently I chew up and spit out happy pills like a gangster. This is the first time it's not cool to be a gangster.

Why am I sharing my business? Because I know I personally have lots of buds who are going through similar situations...or know of someone who is and this stuff helps. I really think that. Plus, it's safer than joining some medical study that will grow balls on my earlobes. This is my way of giving back in the name of science.

I've been searching for a psychiatrist for days now. Yeah...I have insurance and even a company number I can call if I feel like I'm growing a bit too wiggy for my own good. I called the number first. They told me they don't deal with psychiatrists (you know the ones who can actually give you happy pills when you know it's chemically necessary stuff.) They only provide access to therapists...So thank you dear company for passive aggressively letting me know that you frown upon drug therapy. I'll make sure to toast to you when I shoot back my new pills. Promise.

So now I'm on a mission...going through my whole insurance rolodex of psychiatrists in my area and you know what...the little bastards don't call back!!! What the freaky deak folks?! If someone calls you...voice shaking and clearly upset, don't you think it might be a nice idea to return a call? I had one lady call back just to snidely tell me she was booked for a month out. Then she paused and said, "Sooooo...." and waited for me to say I'd find someone else then. Dr. Jerkface, I really hope you have to listen to some really boring people talk about how many times they've flipped on and off their light switch today. :)

What does this all mean? Welllllp, it means I'm treading lightly. I'm trying not to really delve into too many emotional things right now or worry about things out of my control. Doing so could cause me to break out in tears and scare the living daylights out of the temp asking me for a sharpened pencil. Just saying.

I asked a dear friend of mine, College Liz, what the difference was between a psychiatrist and therapist and she wrote back asking me what was up with me. I told her the story and she replied back:

"Well let me now tell you how big of a fan I have become of the power of prayer....you know I'm still not a church going Midwesterner :)...ha! but at least having a belief in something(one) bigger than myself has worked wonders for me....especially these past few years. Always remember your health, and love for yourself and others. That is all that matters now a days! ......AND if all else fails....remember these 5 letters V-O-D-K-A. Love ya!"

Aren't friends the best? They say JUST the right things when you need right things the most.

Where Taste Goes to Die and Money is Saved

I have this hate/love relationship with the idea of fashion...and need...and consuming. Sometimes the girly beast inside of me rips out and screams to the world "GIVE ME MARC JACOBS OR GIVE ME DEATH!"...Then I come to and feel like an utter nincompoop for being so lame. Really? When I'm on my death bed will I really tell my grandchildren I regret not getting that hot new bag that cost more than my rent? Hmmm...

When push comes to glove, I can rock clothes I've rocked since high school...and I've been out for over a decade now (CRINGE!) so that's saying a lot about me and my need to keep it real. I'm trying to pay off medical bills and a transmission I bought the year I graduated from college. Yeah...so my priorities are a bit real and pressing (finally).

I started following this blog, Fashion is Stupid, and I swear to the seamstress goddesses that it helps me remember that trend is evil and fashion is fickle. Plus...expensively insane.

Yeah, I may not get looks when I walk down the street (well unless I'm doing the funky chicken dance or making farting sounds that I'm known to do) but that's aight...at least no one can say I showed my nipples publicly or rocked funky MC Hammer pants that look like a grandma threw up on them.

I'll just look at the pretty stuff and admire from afar. That's my stand and I'm sticking to it...

Please tell me why these pants are $250...I'm flabbergasted. Really. I am.


Yeah, I realize this isn't fashion, but I couldn't resist.

Sorry but this darn chair looks like something a redneck put together in their junky backyard. $500...You've been swindled! HOODWINKED FOOLS!

I see nippleness! I really REALLY want to know who wears this and where they were it.

I want to feed her a burger, but I'm pretty sure she hasn't had meat...or food in quite some time. The farts that would come from this malnourished poor child could kill an army...

Dentist Disaster


Saying I freaked out at the dentist would be a bit of an understatement. I lost ALL feeling on my right side. I don't know if you can tell from this picture, but the right side of my lips are sagging...I don't even have a cheek bone flex on that side for Pete's sake!


The worst part though was waiting for the crap to knock it off so I could eat. Torture.

Her Hero Wears Her Cape Around Her Hips...

This happens to be one of my favorite poets. I wish I was clever and fast enough to slam poetry, but alas I'm simply one who listens, reads and admires.

I saw Jessica in college. She performed some amazing stuff at the Langston Hughes Symposium and I was hooked. Apparently there are others who feel just the very same. :)

My Shero

You'd think I'd pick a less popular shero to adore, but I.CAN'T.HELP.MYSELF. I've been on Oprah's tip since I was a wee one. It started with sass.

I saw some episode where there were mixed kids talking about how they didn't know who they were or what they were and I remember getting pissed...as pissed as a wee one could and I told my mom I was gonna go on her show some day and tell her that I wasn't confused...that being black and white wasn't hard...Funny how I didn't really "feel" what it meant to truly be black and white until I was significantly older and then the sassy little one in me shut right up.

I may have lost the sass, but I never lost my intrigue for Ms. Winfrey. My gram gave me a book of prominent black women as a kid and there she was...this strong, intelligent woman. I'd read her bio and feel proud that my gram thought I could be like her...

Through the years I've kept my hero numero uno...J and I dreamed of writing a book together as teens. We'd call it Kiwi Power and we'd allow Oprah to review it and put it on her list...She's infiltrated every dream just about.

Which brings me to yesterday. Yesterday was a hard one. Dealing with my book, my writing, my acting, my friendships, my relationship, my boring dead-end job...well it all seemed like I was kind of stuck between a rock and a very hard, cold place and I felt miserable. I told the guy I needed a night of nothing...a night where I could lay on the couch and reflect and listen to what my soul needed. He agreed because he's a dear soul (or he's simply scaredy shatless) and so I went home and plopped myself on the couch.

I went to my DVR and I scrolled down to my list of Oprah episodes I haven't been able to watch in weeks and I hit play. I watched episode after episode...crying and releasing and just letting her smile tear down my walls. Something that silly helped me calm down...a TV show!!!

I was so happy and relieved, but then I was sad. I have no idea what I'll do once her show ends. I remember the day I found out this would be her last season...I cried like someone had just taken a part of me. Darn show has been around basically my whole life...

I wonder if there will ever be another life force quite like her on the air. I sound silly, huh? Almost like a druggie needing a fix. I need the Oprah crack!!! I'm not ashamed to admit that.

Sad, but not ashamed.


All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. ~Toni Morrison

Love Toni Morrison. Love her writing. Love her words more than a nerd loves calculus. I've always been drawn to her. I put her on my dream board without really understanding why. Some day the Universe will decide it's time for me to understand.

For now, I just rock this t shirt and continue with my writing groupiness.

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