Life With Jeannie

The State of "Eh" Chapter 10

2011-11-10T19:31:00.000-08:00

Chapter 10 - Clumsy McClumsington Pt1- Fear and the Pommel Horse

I am and have always been, a terribly clumsy person.

I feel like my mother had some foresight into this.
She enrolled me in dance classes by the time I was 4. Tap, ballet, everything.
I'm sure it was also partially because she had taught me to read at a very young age and now couldn't stop the talking, the questions,the general jibber fucking jabber that I was spewing.
She sent me to school at age 3 as well, but the dance classes gave her hours of more relief.

So, yes... the talking, but she did say "You have long limbs, you were just going to be tripping all over the place. You'd kill yourself."

Good work, mom.

She also enrolled me in gymnastics summer camp when I was 8. This was super cool and easy because I'm double jointed.
I flexed! I over extended! I was a human pretzel!
Contortionist, I thought.
I could join the circus! I don't even like the circus! Still, though!
What a good idea!
Look how good I am at floor work!
Coaches are amazed! Kids are jealous at all my moves! My ease into splits!
HAHA! I'M SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU AL--- what do you mean do a cartwheel? I want to stay here on the floor. Backflip? What? Are you insane? I'll break my neck? ROUND-OFFS? THOSE ARE SATAN'S CARTWHEEL!!! THIS IS A DEATH CAMP!!!

I believe I actually yelled, "THOSE ARE SATAN'S CARTWHEELS!!! THIS IS A DEATH CAMP!!!" on the day that round-offs were put in our repertoire.
I was a great kid.

So, no. This gymnastics thing was not going to work for me.

I remember the day that they introduced the pommel horse. We were supposed to run, bounce of that stupid spring board, jump up, pulling knees through and landing in that super cool dismount with the turn, arms up, crazy back flex that gymnasts do.
Love that dismount, "I deed eet" pose. LOVE. IT. I do it sometimes now. Still rules.

Lemme tell you, at 8 years of age, my first thought was, "fuck that pommel horse. I'm going to die."

I envisioned running (also not good at) jumping on the springboard, reaching up, somehow breaking my arms by grabbing the handles wrong, then getting my legs caught and going face smashing first into the mat on the other side, thus, breaking my neck and killing me instantly.

Seriously, I don't understand how these other damn 8 year olds, one by one in front of me, were ALL ABLE TO DO THIS SHIT.
Standing in a long line of about 20 of us, with every successful jump, I would step out of line and move one more person back.
I kept tapping everyone, "umm, did everyone do this already? I don't... how is everyone so good? This is beginners gymnastics. I don't... did I miss a day???"

They all said, "No." but I didn't believe them. Fucking liars. Or idiots. Only idiots would do that and only idiot adults would stand there and MAKE THEM DO IT.

Nope. Not the kid. No way. Uh uh. Not gonna happen. I faked an illness for the next week. Every single day. As soon as it was my turn.
"Owwww...Owww.... my stomach... I can't." or "Ohhh, ohh.. my hand. I think I sprained my wrist."

"You sprained your wrist right now?"
"Yeah, I was stretching back here really hard and doing wrist circles. To prepare...for... holding.. the.. handles."
"You don't have to do that."
"Yeah but my wrists weren't warmed up enough. They need to warm up."
"We warmed up for a half an hour."
"I don't really think that's enough for me. We should discuss extending the length of warm-ups. To reduce the chance of injuries. For the kids. We're just kids. Just. Kids. Delicate bones."

I think they were catching on.

I managed to escape the pommel horse death exercise, but couldn't escape the backflip/cartwheel/round-offs practicing.
I just really sucked at it. I would do them super slow so that they would have to move on to the next kids.

"We can't just focus on you all day."
"I know. Go help them. We're all important here. All of us."

The end of summer camp demonstration was what I both looked forward to and dreaded, simultaneously.
There was my own choreographed floor routine (cause I was awesome) but...

I had to do the pommel horse.

I visualized my death no less than 50 times the week before the event. No less than 50 MORE times the actual day of the event.

"Thank God we're near St. Vincents" I thought. "It still won't help. I'll be dead already."

Super kid.

Now first, let me tell you how effin AMAZING my floor routine was. I choreographed it myself. Picked my own music.
The Love Theme from St. Elmo's Fire.
Yeah, that's right. "Just For A Moment."

Classy kid.

People clapped, my mom beamed. It was a kick ass moment. I was flexy all over that mat. Contorted in incredible ways to "oohs and "ahhs."

It was a great moment that I will always remember. To be followed by one of the worst moments that I will ever remember.

I was the first girl on the pommel horse, because we were going in skill order. Yeah, surprise. Me first. Shocker.
The last girl, by the way, had somehow learned to do a front flip over that motherfucker.
I think she was a russian spy... cause, fuck being able to do that in 3 weeks.
KGB bastard.

So here I am, fueled with my adorable mixture of 8 year old adrenaline and fear. Accomplishment and a mind full of visual impending doom. Standing at the line where I'm supposed to start running.

Standing.

Standing...

Standing. *coughs from the audience* Whatever.

Still standing there.

I wish they would shut up. They're about to feel so fucking stupid when they find out they were rushing a little girl to break her neck. I bet that'll stay with them for the rest of their lives. Guilt.
"Maybe if we hadn't cleared our throats she wouldn't have felt rushed and then she would have lived. Oh GOD, WHYYY!?!"

Good. Child killers.

Then something happened.
I got calm. I focused. I thought, no..
I KNEW.
This one time. I can do it. I'm not going to die at all.
All I have to do is jump on the pommel horse and pull my legs through. That's it really.
I can DO THIS!
I'm going to be great. I will not be afraid.

Everything became quiet, and I could hear my blood pumping in my ears.
I was ready. I started running, smile on my face.
This is going to be awesome! They're all going to be so proud of me!
I ran, I ran my little legs right up to that springboard...

Now... I know, because I've done this a few times in my life and I'm pretty sure a lot of you have too.
Time can slow down sometimes.
Time slowed down a LOT, right in those last few steps before the springboard.

Oh my God. What am I doing?!?!?!? I'm going to kill myself. FOR WHAT? For The YMCA SUMMER CAMP!!!!?!?!? NO!

I screeched to a halt, and calmly, very calmly, walked my 8 year old self right around that pommel horse, hitting it with my right hand and shrieking, "HIYA!"

Then I walked around to the dismount mat and did the SHIT out of that dismount pose.
ARMS UP! FACE FORWARD! BACK FLEX! ARMS DOWN! Turn to audience. ARMS UP! FACE FORWARD! BACK FLEX! ARMS DOWN!
Jog off.

That was the most confused slow clap starting applause I've ever heard from an audience.
See, the thing is, it's a bunch of kids, so, no ones gonna BOO you. They were just really confused.

I jogged to the gym doors. I jogged down the hallway. I jogged down the stairs. I jogged right out that building across the street to my house.

I didn't even care that my mom was still in the audience.

I never went back to gymnastics camp... but I can still do a walkover split like nobody's business.

Fuck that pommel horse.

CaseBasket Lyrics

2011-06-17T13:46:00.001-07:00

hold up, wordsmith, blacksmith,
girl in the school parking lot with a fat spliff,
old shit, full circle, bob barker, backflips,
got mad rap kids but not a catholic, preaching that gospel, not baptist,
redesign placements, nos-ag-stic,
getting, too crazy? my bad shit,
right,
you aint lazy, I'm bat shit, basket case, you can blame me, its the madness, jg, congrats bitch,
in raps last place, so the vantage points dangerous, a black ditch underground cave where the canvas is the wall around me stained with my blood and my fans pics,
a motherfucker with nothing to lose is a bad bitch,
misconstrued, miss my aim, you lose,
kiss the shoes, diss my name, hiss, boos,
your clique is fools, fucking with niggas and jigaboos, I'm sick of buffoons, fucking sick of thinking of coons,
I aint ever dig a rule, or kick a particular tune,
I'm penning its venting me niccotine liquor and booze,
I'm me, choose choice, it's the new shit,
don't be, confused boys, the new shtick, is no shtick, promote this,
offbeat, off road shit, with a kotex,
flow mo heavy than most chicks, so fuck a 28 days I keep a tampax with my show shit,
right next to an open bottle reeking of roses,
next to a broken bottle seeping leaking neurosis,
sleeping on Jeannie? most is? most ears.... aint heard of the beating, cause I'd be.... most feared,
See its more convenient to leave me alone in the background, blacked out, in a basement with a gagged mouth,
I dont want nobody to save me, I'll hack out,
Shawshank redemption, no thanks to mention,
act now, get a special deal on the raps out,
for free 99 I'll beat 99 acts down,
but leave one please, I need a comedy track clown, your beats jokes relief, hope you finally go that route,
if thee is next to Tsidi don't act out,
I'm a phe no me non, retarted don like my mommy done crack (wow),
a super jerk, call me Clark Kent at sperm bank, with girl mags, I'd be like SPIT if I burned tags,
I burn flags, burn, man, not books or bras, fam,
swing bars, multiple partners, Tarzan,
marzipan, that's it no reference, no depth shit,
breathe and let the bars stand.

The Assassins verse

2011-03-30T18:26:00.000-07:00

Heeeeere you go!

Fasten your seat belts for the last of the three assassins on earth
The first flashing her purse where the heat's stashed
They call me Jean McCoy, beast in thee employ
deploy deplorable, through audible destructive actions, attractive decoy
Then pass it to Troy, after I'm passing your life over
He'll deliver it through river Styx, Hades
I'm cold, deliberate, ladies, my foes limited
pray me some praise (whisper it)
stay on your toes, villains, it's Grae and your day's whittling.
Blistering lines packed in sick, stick to spine
Racked with a sick mind, trapped in thick bitch frame
Drug you with strychnine, in nine drinks you drunk and it's my kidney, you dickbrain, I'm just itching to slit veins
Stitch lines, Rick James, Fuck yo lives, sip brains, bitches
Niggas, kick rocks, or kick rhymes, it's to the pain
liquor riddled liver, sieve in it, sipping it like Capri Sun
ignint as ever, she's clever, equivalent be none

A ball breaker, call fakers out with passion
You got the gaul bastard, to brawl with the broad brashest?
The balls in your court, pass it
But warning, fall faster than asses with age slack on the back of a Kardashian

The walls crash in, you all on the floor gasping,
the gas pour in the corridor, racking your jaws, blacking out
Catch Grae backing out the back door cackling
still make it back to the bar for last call.

BRIDGE

2010-11-22T15:36:00.000-08:00

See I can be the bridge that takes you home
Or I can be he wind that makes you moan
Depending how you treat me baby
See I can be the beacon, brings you light
Or I can be blacker, colder than midnight
So how you gonna see me baby

Now either you can go on and choose me
or baby you're gon' go on and lose me
Cause I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be,
I can be, I can be

If I could be blatant with, well, what I gotta say about you and I is,
What I gotta do to not see it Kevin Smith way,
You know,
View Askew, babe
Give it to me straighter than a hetero, I'll pay for petrol,
We can go riding through the metro (polis)
Put it together because separate causes, misunderstanding, watch
Metropolis
That's like us, see together we marvelous
Hard as the city of the concrete gardens
Split it up, inserts the margins, you get confusion, the words lose purpose
The mark and the target, the arc and the aim like a dart just miss position
If I can explain the way we need to go and where we gonna go, I can do it just like this
Listen
I guess this is the infamous, "What is this really?" conversation
Man I hate as a miss is this it's me bringing it up
Predictable dating
But you won't, I've been waiting,
I wouldn't bother, wouldn't have the patience
It would be the aphid in the room, wasted breath, but I think you're amazing.
That being said... (dot, dot, dot)
Love the way the bed rock non-stop
Love the time we spend, chill, eat, shop
Even iller the days we pretend we wanna be at our own spots
But then you knock, knock, knock
But yet still not confirming lock,
I need to know or else just get dropped,
get canned, get blocked,
Got plans, or not?

See I can be the bridge that takes you home
Or I can be he wind that makes you moan
Depending how you treat me baby
See I can be the beacon, brings you light
Or I can be blacker, colder than midnight
So how you gonna see me baby

Now either you can go on and choose me
or baby you're gon' go on and lose me
Cause I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be,
I can be, I can be

The way you think is appealing I,
Like the feeling of thinking of you
Like to know that you're thinking of me
Like the feeling of being us, two
Might reveal how I'm feeling too much
Might be feeling the fear, we do rush
Fight the feeling to flee, to lose us
Type to reel in the scenes and lose trust
Slice the dealings and leave, abuse lust
Cuts and bruises, I see you lose love
But you chose to redeem it, who does?
Fuck the blues and the demons, choose one
Human to humor cupid with some "cue in the music cupid shit"
come
Lose the race in the shoes that you run
Fuse the pace of the two into one

See I can be the bridge that takes you home
Or I can be he wind that makes you moan
Depending how you treat me baby
See I can be the beacon, brings you light
Or I can be blacker, colder than midnight
So how you gonna see me baby

Now either you can go on and choose me
or baby you're gon' go on and lose me
Cause I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be, I can be,
I can be, I can be

I hate my friends and things they do in their spare time.

2010-09-18T14:20:00.000-07:00

Seriously. LMAO. Thanks for sending me this.

Ways To Get A Chick Hot: For The Guys (or the girls.)

2010-08-24T15:31:00.000-07:00

For some strange reason, it seems that I have become the person to turn to for love and relationship advice.
I am a good choice for this! (I am a terrible choice for this shit.)

I thought it would be a good idea to just put all my advice to guys (or the ladies...if you like the ladies, ladies) for getting a lady. Also for getting a lady hot.

Here are 4 sure fire ways to nab that special lady you've been after. If you already have her, there are some tips on how to KEEP her.
You're welcome, in fucking advance.

1.) If you're at a bar and happen to see a young lady that catches your eye, definitely use this

Stare at her, intensely, from across the room. Ladies LOVE it when you stare it them. Do this for about 15-20 minutes straight.
Don't concentrate on anything else except staring at her.
If you can practice not blinking for extended periods of time, when you're at home, or at work, this would help.
What you want to convey, is a deep attraction. Make her feel like she is the only person in the world. Don't even look down at your drink. Don't look at ANYTHING else. Just her.

If no one has called the police yet, or alerted the bouncer of your intense love, move to the next step.

Move to a seat closer to hers. Hopefully right next to her. Busy yourself with your drink, your phone, whatever. Maybe slide a smile, but establish yourself as completely harmless and uninterested in a sexual way. Maybe say little fun things like "Oh I love this song!" Or, "I really love your outfit. You have great style." After you pay her any compliment, make sure to ignore her. It will drive her mad. With love for you.

She'll have to go to the bathroom at some point (she's a girl, we pee ALL the time. I'm peeing RIGHT NOW.)
When she does, hopefully she will not have finished her entire drink. If she does, just order another of whatever she's drinking before she comes back.
You can even suggest beforehand that you would watch her drink if she wants to go to the bathroom.
Establish your boyish charm and harmlessness before doing so, or she will totally be on to you.

If this goes well, she will return from the bathroom refreshed and ready to give you the night of your life.

Don't be too eager!
"Hey! Welcome back! Missed you!" You might exclaim. Wave your hand towards her seat.
This is when the real plan comes in.
Hum quietly at first, louder as you continue. Hum "Loving You" by Minnie Ripperton.

Chicks love that song.

As you get louder, not too loud now, start adding words... "Drugging you.... is easy cause you're beautiful...doo doo doo doo doo doo..." That's mainly the part you want to repeat over and over again.
I don't think I have to give you any advice after that.. It should be a closed deal at this point!

You're definitely fucked... err... fucking, that night!

2.) This one right here is very situation specific. Well, kind of. It's for guys who have just started dating a lady with a cat. Not, "a guy who has somehow used a cat in order to date a lady." I know a couple of those guys. That's just crazy. It was effective, but it was just loony.

Anyway...

Right, so, you got a new lady, she has a cat, you've been doing the in-and-out a few times.

Err, you and the lady. Not you and the cat. If it's you and the cat, umm.. and the lady... you don't need my advice. You pretty much got your life covered. You're fucking your girlfriend and your girlfriends cat. Maybe even at the same time. Maybe your girlfriend is even fucking her own cat. You got a lot going on. How you found the time to read this blog, I don't even know.

Kudos to you.
Not because I want to fuck a cat. Or your girlfriend. Or YOU for that matter. I don't even know you.
I bet you think everyone wants to do you, huh. I know your type. Just because you've convinced some girl to have sexual intercourse with her pet doesn't make you the king. Of anything. I got some news for you buddy, that girl was probably already fucking that cat. Before you got there. It doesn't even have anything to do with you.
She's fulfilling HER fantasy of having some idiot dude (you) watch her fuck a cat...and you know what? You're not the first guy. She probably has tapes. Tapes of all the guys who watched her fuck that cat and then fucked her cat.

You didn't think you were the first, did you? Come on.

You think you popped that cat's cherry? Get the fuck out of here. You know you were surprised when it was, oh, let's just say, not the tight vice grip you would expect from a cats *whistles* ....

You know something about those tapes? I've seen them. That's right. You're surprised. Yeah. I know Lily. Your "girlfriend."
HA! You think she's your girlfriend? You're just another idiot on tape fucking a cat. Your tape is labeled "IDIOT 22."
Me, Lily and a few other chicks get together once a month to laugh at the tapes of the cat fuckers.
We sit around and laugh and laugh at you.

I've seen your tape. Not impressed.

Now you wanna stroll on in my blog and try to get advice on how to get chicks. Man, fuck you, cat fucker. You know what? I'm not even doing the rest of the suggestions. You're sick. Get out of here. You've ruined it for EVERYBODY.

Asshole.

The State of "Eh" Chapter 9

2010-08-01T11:03:00.000-07:00

Chapter 9 - You're Not A Ninja

I like weapons.
They turn me on.
Not when being brandished in my direction.
Just weapons, in general, used (or not) on others.

Brass knuckles, Shurikens, darts, that strapped onto my arm. Cane with hidden sword. I brought those sorts of things into the club.

The bouncers liked me. Like Remy said, I did, indeed, "walk around the metal detectors."

I wore the shurikens like necklaces. I didn't fathom the idea that I could possibly trip and fall, causing a nasty murder to self. Or that someone could have accidentally punctured my throat with a sudden death dance move. Considering that I was intoxicated 100% of the time, this could have been something I would think about...but I was young and when you're young, you're invincible. Or stupid. Basically, stupid, for thinking you're invincible.

I destroyed the wall of the hallway outside my bedroom by practicing throwing my shurikens. I got pretty good. I was ecstatic. My roommates were not ecstatic about the way the wall looked. I looked at them, holding the shuriken until they looked more ecstatic.

Had I been planning to fight walls, or The Thing, I'm sure I would have done excellently. People tend to move about, with action. I'm not sure I would have been able to keep up. Unfortunately, there was no ka-ra-tay training ground out back. No wood dummies, no stumps to practice balance, no water buckets to carry. Damn those lucky "in training montage having" bastards in movies. So jealous.

The darts were pretty kick ass too. They strapped on to my forearm, with tassles, that I could bend my fingers back and grasp quickly. Presumably to flick them out quickly at my opponent.

"Ughh" they would cry out, in theory, "I didn't see...ack..ack..*blood* that coming! Hidden, ugghhh, daa--"

Then, I imagine, they would move spastically about, setting off a dramatic 1 minute long death scene, in which they would fall against furniture, grab tablecloths down onto the floor and then ultimately bite the dust with a resounding. "ucccch...uh."

Yeah.

I stabbed myself in the foot with those darts. It hurt pretty bad. I was surprised that I actually had used enough force to damage something, but I was smart enough to know that there was NO way I would ever get the aim right. I would end up with Christ like feet if I continued.
I just wore the darts to mystify people after that.

My brass knuckles were actually handy. Yes, I did, use them. They were effective. Very effective. On someone's face...and collarbone. I feel you judging me.

Exacto knives, box cutters. They, were also very, very effective. On people. We used to take the blades out and put them stupid places. To enter the club. Mine? My giant aqua netted ponytail bun. Perfect.

Why there, you ask?

Well, before the metal detector, bouncers would frisk you with the force of a sexual assault. Grab, mush, squeeze, ugh.
Hiding a blade on your person, and then having it squeezed into you, was a bad fucking idea. The case goes in your shoe, the blade goes in your hair. They never grabbed hair. Even if they did, that hair was impenetrable to any outside forces. An ironclad forcefield, it was. Only I knew the secret location of the trap hair door.

I bring up these simple, far less interesting weapons, because even though I had actually used these with success, they were boring.

Shit, I wanna be a NINJA. Not a simple street thug.

There is nothing fucking mysterious and/or captivating about exacto knife fights. Butterfly knives, yes. Especially with choreography. We all know how captivating THAT shit is. (Beat It, West Side Story) *snaps*

So I took to the weapons of the East. Not the East Coast. I bought a ninja mask. I wore it in my Triple 5 Soul ad. I was so fucking serious about this shit.

I practiced my butterfly knife skills, I was decent. I collected daggers, swords. They were awesome. The things I became good at were the clunky weapons. I wasn't happy about it, but I figured they were still cool. Hey, a skill is a skill. Fuck it. Plus, they had wicked holsters and looked very intimidating on my wall.... or shelf...or person...

Then I left all my weapons behind and moved on. Not that I didn't think about my ninja career anymore, I just... collected other shit instead. Like, engagement rings. Whee.

Ba-dum-bum-ching!

Two years ago, I discovered parkour. Well, not really. I knew about it, watched countless videos, but I discovered that there were parkour CLASSES. You know, for normal people. Who want to be ninjas. Well, I can't think of any other reason to take the class. Other than you want to be a ninja. Or a douche.

It re-spawned my "I'm a fucking ninja" thoughts.

My issue: indescribable clumsiness.

I was a dancer for many years, half my life. A gymnast in my pre-teens. These are the only two things that saved me from being a nerdy, gangly, constantly injured mess. I move gracefully, with agility and great flexibility...speed even!

Only in these two areas.

I am not athletically inclined. I cannot run. I can't even jump rope. Don't throw anything at me and expect me to catch it. It will hit me. I will be angry. Just get up and pass me what you want me to have. Don't fucking throw that shit.

This saddened me to no end as a child, as I was jealous of the sporty children. I didn't care, with age, until I saw the wonders of parkour.

I signed up for the class, chickened out and didn't go. I was concerned I would injure myself. Badly. In front of other adults who would rise to be way better ninjas than me. Fuck them. They didn't have HALF the will I did to be a master ninja. No way. Impossible. They weren't planning elaborate ninja ...err...plans. They didn't own the Ninja Handbook. (Pick that book up.)

Sigh.
This year I didn't sign up. I merely LOOKED at the website and integrated myself into the video advertisements. I made a space for myself in the front of the class. Taking the class in my mind was going pretty well. I was the best student. I was rewarded with drinks and gold stars on my forehead.

What I've decided, is that I do have my natural born skills and that those are the most important things to work on.
I probably won't be a parkourish type of ninja, but I can (and trust me, this scenario could happen) be the flexy person that a team of assassins or master thieves will need. Or... I mean, I'm not looking to get myself hired. I can freelance. I'm much more of an 'I'm my own ninja" kind of broad.

Concentrating on my natural abilities, working to enhance them. That's what's important. I came up with a good list.

I can contort my body to fit in very small spaces. I climbed inside a suitcase once.
I can maneuver my flexy, bendy self around...let's say, a room of lasers. I think we all know how important the laser room is. If you don't have a woman who can get through that laser room, you are FUCKED.
I can get back into really awesome shape so that I can be a sexy decoy. I will take off my clothes slowly, revealing my stunning abs, thus distracting the enemy.
I can deliver a really awesome sleeper hold.
I racially morph really well.
I can cry on demand. (Still trying to work this in somehow.)
I like green tea.
I look good in black.
I can slip pills into peoples drinks.
I'm very good at carving things. Think black market organs. Handy skill.
I'm very light on my feet. You never hear me walking. That right there is like, ninja rule number fucking ONE.
I can get a lot more tattoos. Coupled with my alcohol tolerance being ridiculously high, this enables me to look very cool and intense while sitting at bars, contemplating how I need to get out of the ninja business.

So, yeah.... I'm pretty good with developing my own ninja values and set of skills.

You should be too. If you're trying to be a ninja.

If anyone has a laser room they need something from... call me. We'll discuss rates.

The State of "Eh" Chapter 8

2010-07-26T15:03:00.000-07:00

Chapter 8 - Convenience

"I am not a convenience! I am a PRIVILEGE!" I yelled.

This is, by far, one of my favorite sentences I have ever uttered. It would have been legendary, classic, echoed in the halls of relationship statements... had I not felt the need to add more shit to it and make it sarcastic.

Had I known then, what I know now and still refuse to implement.

Just shut up at the end of saying good shit. Put a fucking period on that shit. A cap. Don't be all BP about it. Yet, no.

"I am not a convenience! I am a PRIVILEGE!" I yelled.

It was so remarkably timed, dramatic pause betwixt the two statements. A single hard tear dropped EXACTLY at the moment I said "PRIVILEGE!" I had my hand vertically to my heart...had smacked my chest with it....clenched my teeth when I said "PRIVILEGE!" Held my hand for about 5 seconds, then dropped it slowly. Didn't bother to wipe those tears. Then I stood there, as 4 other HARD tears hit the floor. I breathed heavily, shoulders heaving. A single throat gulp.

"I am not a convenience! I am a PRIVILEGE!"

Award worthy. It was the scene they would play when I was nominated. People would gasp, feeling moved. As they moved to the shots of the other actresses nominated, after I won, they would be crying...shaking their heads and slow clapping my brilliance.

Yes.

"I am not a convenience! I am a PRIVILEGE!"

He stood there, wide eyed. Still. Eyes dropping to the floor as I dropped my hand. Went to reach out to me. I gave the "NO!" hand and backed up with the "NO!" finger. Complete with lip quivering and all.

Then...

My sarcasm kicked in.

OK, look. I really don't have control over this shit. Countless times I have ruined a completely serious situation with my involuntary sarcasm reflex. I'm sure it's infuriating. In fact, I KNOW it's infuriating. I just can't stop. I can't stop the stupid continuous joke prompt in my head. It doesn't shut off. I've never found the button for it and I'm not sure that I want to. In retrospect, there are tons of times it probably would have changed the direction my life took. Only, I'm not sure I would want to live in that life. It's not real for me. It's not tangible.

So.

"I am not a convenience! I am a PRIVILEGE!"

Hand drop, back off, "NO!" hand, his eye drop, reach out....

Then, the ruination.

I breathed heavily for about 10 more seconds. It was silent. Heavy. Hot. Feeling of the ceiling lowering in and the room wet, humid with passion.

Still. Thick.

I opened my stupid mouth and completely changed tones.

See, what had just happened in my head, is that although I was SO serious about what I was saying... I mean, shit... this was a serious fucking argument. I meant it. I was just proud of myself for saying it the way I did.

I saw the entire award show in the 10 seconds of silence. This is my problem. I had already extricated myself from the moment. I was doing my acceptance speech at that point. I tend to immerse myself quickly into my imagination. Especially when it's cued by.. ok.. no.. just all the time. It's a problem.

Ok.. so.... I opened my stupid mouth and completely changed tones.

Hand drop.... turn, then turn around quickly.... (this is a different movie for me now.)

"...because.. If I was a CONVENIENCE.... do I... do I have a fucking neon sign on me? Do I look like I sell slurpees? I have fucking AISLES??? You think I stock motherfucking SLIM JIMS??? Am I open 24 hours for you? Do you want me to sell you a mother.....fucking...LOOSIE??? That's it? My name is BODEGA??? BODEGA? You see an awning??? The word SANDWICH is spelled incorrectly on me? Huh MOTHERFUCKER??? You want a turkey and cheese on a fucking hero??? You don't want mustard?? WHAT??? HUH? HUH? I'm a MART? Oh.. NOW I'M A FUCKING MART??? FUCK... YOU.."

I turned and stormed out of the room, then out of the apartment. I got to about the corner and called my friend. I was laughing hysterically.

"I'm such a dick..." I spit out between laughs, "I don't even... hahahahahaaa..." I was laughing so hard that my face hurt.
"Ahhhh I fucking ruined it. RUINED MY MOMENT!"

She agreed, told me I was "a fucking fool."

It wasn't an important enough relationship for me to even want to have a discussion about it afterwards. He chalked it up to me being a loon. I chalked it up to... well.. let's be real. The real point of this is that... yes.. I had a valid point. I was most certainly NOT a convenience... I didn't like being treated as such. I chalked it up to the fact that he didn't know what he had. Loon or not.

I am not... a privilege.

I would sell you a loosie though.

The State of "Eh" Chapter 7

2010-07-26T14:54:00.000-07:00

Chapter 7 - Miami (pt 10)

Miami...

I'm sorry New York, as much as I love you, Miami became my favorite city a few years ago.
If it helps your feelings at all, NY, part of it is the flying time between the two of you. I can be in Miami for breakfast and still get to Brooklyn for, well....BREAKFAST.
If I was a cheating, double life leading woman, this would come in very handy indeed...to thwart my two families from ever finding out the horrible truth and destroying everyones lives.

Not that I've thought about doing that.

At all.

I only use the short distance for good. The beach, the food, the nightlife, the general Miaminess of it all.
I love that I don't have to be a driver to enjoy the city.
That I can lead a 24 hour life (us New Yorkers are so spoiled) and not have to readjust my tempo.
That I can go sit on the beach at 3am and walk back home, kicking sand all the way.
That I don't really have to put on any damn clothes.

I love Miami.

I've taken countless last minute flights out. The 9:45 to Fort Lauderdale and then the short, gorgeous ride in.
Did my round of the boutique hotels, The Raleigh becoming my favorite, but the Shore Clubs penthouse bonanza was exquisite.
Rented condos, stayed a while...rented delicious townhouses...

This story fell on an eve where the townhouse I had rented, suddenly seemed not as exciting as crashing a hotel.
Had I only just gone the 8 extra blocks...this wouldn't have happened.

I blame the mojitos.
I blame Tyson (not the actual Tyson, Tyson...)

This starts with people watching. As I always did, making my way to a different restaurant every night, kicking back at a street table, having a dinner, drinks, scrawling in my giant notepad.
I got to know all the waiters because they all asked me the same question, "What do you do?'
Always in the same terribly confused sweet tone.
"I see you come here all the time, never with anyone, you're so quiet! You just. Write!"

Maybe I write stuff.

"I write stuff". I would answer.
"Are you writing a book?"
"I hope so, otherwise all these extra pages are just completely useless" I would lick back quickly with a smile.

I didn't really pay for much. I really liked that. I'm pretty sure no one spit in my food either. That's a good thing. I used to work as a waitress and I used to--- that's another chapter...

One of those writing nights, I was enjoying an amazing salad at ..(I won't say the name of the place, but it rhymes with, "Shmews Shafay"...) when a God, made of God like material, walked up, pulled out the chair next to me, sat down and lit my cigarette.

Incidentally, I always have a cigarette hanging out of my mouth when writing. Like a truck driver. Or a moll (thanks for the vocab, Guy.)

I did what normal people would do (I've met some of them and picked up their habits.)
I jumped back, alarmed at first, then, upon looking up and seeing Jesus' halo, lean in and accept the flame. Of my new burning desire.

"You're jumpy." he said, laughing.

"I'm not-ack, ack, ack, ju-hum-ack--" I responded. His presence had made me forget the importance of separating the inhalation of smoke from talking. I just mashed them together with crap results.

"First cigarette?" said Black Jesus.

Oh, he's quick. This was going to be a problem. Too quick. I don't know how to... wait...yes I do.

I threw a side glance combined with a quick head nudge towards the cigarette burial grounds in the ashtray before replying, "Yes. Firsteen thousand cigarette. I almost got it down. Almost."

Ha, ha! POW! Right back at you! BAM! BAM! Whaaaataaaw! Take that joke! Take it! Uh, uh, uhhhhhhhhh....

He smiled. No verbal response. Just a smile. Oh, yeah. He's really good. If you can't defeat a joke, OR you know you could dismantle it's vertebrae, that's the right response. I had a feeling he was a joke chiropractor. Oooh. Chills.

I smiled back.

"I'm Tyson," he said.

"Jean." I held out my hand to meet his, happy to not receive the "kiss on the hand" crap, or the "limp fish" handshake. He greeted me like a normal person, with normal hand and arm muscles, that you would shake hands with. This is a big deal to me. Especially in my business, men tend to freak out at the introduction segment. 90% of them have no idea what's offensive or lame. He was spot on.

Good job Tyson.

"Can I sit?" he asked, touching the chair back gently.

"I don't know. Can you? How's your flexibility? I hope you don't have trouble sitting. I can't really.... we could ask for some sort of assistance, if you can--"

He was already sitting by the time I got to "flexibility."

Super impressed.

We talked.

We talked for hours...drank...talked... talked some more...drank some more...talked less...

The best part of it was the non awkward silence. We sat...and drank...and smiled. I smoked. He lit my cigarettes.

As romantic as this seems, let me say this...

We were fucked... up.. FUCKED. UP.

There is "fucked up" and then there is "fucked....UP." In that state, you're far beyond flashing people in a spring break moment. You're far beyond throwing up on a strangers shoes. Well, if you are a professional drinker. I consider myself a professional drinker. I know that I'm right in this sentiment, because other people consider me a professional drinker. It's not an actual job, but if it were, I would get hired and head up The Drinking Company. I would be The Drinking CEO. I would have board meetings and arrive late. They would understand. It was, after all, The Drinking Company.

I considered him a professional drinker. We were about 17 drinks in. Neither of us were sloppy. Again, impressed.

Around 4 hours later we came up with a terrific idea. We should go get a hotel room.

Now, like I said, I HAD a place I was staying. I had rented my regular townhouse. It had three separate floors. With three bedrooms. Clearly this was not enough space for us to stay in.

Duh.

We should go to the... errr. It rhymes with "Shmagamore."

I chose this place for the poolside rooms. I would normally say something else, like the Delano, with great bungalows as well... but I was drunk. I didn't normally stay at the SHMAGAMORE. I think the one brain cell that may have been left, playing singular non ending "Pong" in my head, had come up with this idea. It figured that something stupid was going to happen and suggested a place I didn't necessarily have a need to go back to. Good job, lonely cell. Good. Job.

It was the only good decision I made that night.

to be continued.....

"The Climb"

2010-06-04T08:45:00.000-07:00

Hey guys! I thought I would drop a little internet gem for you.
It's from a collection of songs I like to call "Dusty Jeans."
All miniature rap tunes done over some of my favorite short grooves.
This is a nice little re-intro to me and some things to make you not yell at me before "Cake or Death" drops ....which is in about 2 seconds. SO, heres a cute little video to go with it... enjoy.

It's VERY different to what Cake or Death sounds like, but .... I like doing different shit.

A Break From The State... Fight Tactics #1

2010-05-10T11:37:00.000-07:00

Eye Gouging.

Really it seems like the last attempt. The time when your body and mind combine to form the, "Oh my fucking God, this motherfucker is going to kill me" Voltron-esque reaction.

Or, at least... that's what it looks like in the movies. OR, in a REGULAR fight against a completely insane person. The eye gouging may even come first... or right after the head butting. OR... in sports (which is still a regular fight against a completely insane person.)

It's a really effective fight tactic. There's a lot of blood, a lot of pain... I mean, that motherfucking killer/attacker knows you mean business. You want to live. You're going to fight.

If you had a weapon, it might be just out of reach... or completely destroyed.
You may have tried biting first.
You probably did. It was messy.
Biting, til blood, or biting a chunk out of someone is the first "I will not go silently into the night" move,

When you get to eye gouging though....
Man.
You can WIN!

Here's my issue.

It's fucking ICKY.

I have a problem with things that make me feel squeamish.
Squishy things, things that make the squashed grape soun----- ugggggh... *shudders*

So I ask myself...
Would I get murder, death, killed if the only option left to live was...eye gouging?

I honestly don't know. That really concerns me. I get a panic attack about my own mortality every single time there's an eye gouging scene in a movie.
Oh, oh my God... that could be ME.

I'm preeeeeetty sure that I wouldn't be in any of those "high risk for drawn out fight scene" scenarios, but you really never know. It's 2010, the apocalypse, the revolution (yeah right,) the ZOMBIE apocalypse... they could all go down.
Then what?

Well, ok, excluding the zombie apocalypse. Eye gouging is NOT an effective move in that scenario. Zombies aren't affected unless it's MASSIVE head trauma. Plus, said zombie may not even HAVE eyes.
So, fuck that one.

Or, just a really, really determined killer. A strong one, or one who knew jujitsu or something. It may come down to eye gouging.

I don't have any problem maiming or killing otherwise. I swear it's just the squishiness of the situation. It's very troubling to me. I figure that it's not just me. Maybe everyone thinks eye gouging is fucking gross. Perhaps you really have to be in that "kill or be killed" event in order to know if you're an eye gouger or not.

Hopefully, when someone tries to kill me... I will be one of the few, the proud. Eye gougers.

...cause really, it makes for a great dinner story.

The State of "Eh" Chapter 6

2010-02-03T13:12:00.000-08:00

Chapter 6 - The End of Big Crazy

It wasn't the charm. He was devoid of the use of charm. His looks insinuated charm.
That's different.

I put up with his lack of charm, lack of social skills, lack of lack of care for lacking these things. I put up with the stories that he was in the army, modeled, invested in clubs, sold narcotics and had random capers that he "couldn't get me involved with..too dangerous."
Yes.. I understood that it was all complete bullshite. Arse tales. Poop talk.
I put up with it for the amazing sex.

I put up with the terrible taste in music, the lack of alcohol tolerance...
I ignored all of my male friends jokes, taunts and hatred.

They were all right. He was corny, I knew it. He was unable to make one single friend out of any of my cronies. Not a one.

In recording sessions at my house, he would annoyingly fall asleep, snoring loudly. They all looked like they wanted to murder him. Every single time. They looked at me, rolled eyes, said a lot of "fuck OUTTA here with THIS nigga..Jean.. what the fuck?"

I said a lot of "I knoooow... I knoooow.. just.... ok.. ok. I know .. I'm sorry."

Couple of months. I just dealt with it.

When we went to clubs, the night ALWAYS ended with us getting kicked out. His shirt off, his brother dragging him out of the door.. Me grabbing everyones personal belongings from whatever booth or area we were sitting in.
This was all after the INTENSE grinding and "dancing" he insisted on inflicting upon my body.
It was like dance assault.
If the "staff only" cabin in "Dirty Dancing" had been in New York, in the 1990's, with an open Henny bar, at the Puerto Rican Day Parade.... that would be the most accurate description of our dancing experience.
It hurt.
If I stopped dancing with him for two seconds, there would be a swarm of women panting and jockeying for dancing position.
It was like protecting a baby from wolves.
An intoxicated, violent sexy baby, with no scruples.

Fucking exhausting.

Did I mention the sex? Sigh.

When we went to eat, or to the movies, the female populations reaction was similar. Really tiring it was...

He was attentive, I never felt as if he was eyeballing others, not focusing on me at all. That didn't make it any less uncomfortable.

I dealt.

Until that day in the pizza shop.

We were in my neighborhood, at my favorite pizza spot. It was evening, we hadn't been drinking. I think we had actually stayed in bed the whole day.....because of the good sex having...you know.

He turned to me, with the garlic shaker in his hand and said, "So what the fuck were you doing in the Bronx?"

I said, "When? I don't go to the Bronx for anything. Why the fuck would I be in the Bronx?"
I turned, quizzical look plastered on my face, but mostly not too thrown off by the question...it was more that the tone was off putting.

BC: "That's what the fuck I'm asking you."
Me: "What's with the fucking cursing? For real, I wasn't in the Bronx. Who told you that?" laughing "Are you following me? Because you're following the wrong person."

I turned back around, grabbed my slice off the counter and walked out the door, shaking my head.
At this point I just thought he was kidding.

He followed my lead out, and grabbed my arm.

"So you married? You driving your husbands red Benz? What the fuck?"

I dropped my pizza and cursed, looking down before directing my attention to his stupid crazy face with its stupid crazy mouth, spouting the most unbelievable stupid crazy shit.

'Whaa ha hahaaat???" I sputtered, laughing.... "Hahahaa.. what? You're serious?"

The next 5 minutes, we spent standing on the corner arguing loudly.

His point was that his brother had apparently seen me. In the Bronx, with my rapper husband, driving said husbands red Benz. Why the fuck didn't I tell him I was married? What the fuck was wrong with me? I was a liar! LIAR! LIAR!

MY point, was that.. well.. HE WAS BEING INSANE. Married? NO. I DON'T EVEN DRIVE! I DON'T EVEN LIKE going to the Bronx!

"Are you trying to break up with me? Cause I can't figure out any other reason for this complete psychotic breakdown you're having... dude.. just break up with me. Please."

He watched him walk to his car and drive off. I went back in the pizza shop and ordered another slice, immediately getting on my phone to tell this insanity to someone. Whatever, man.

He texted me about an hour later, saying he had to be "back in the army..you know."

Yeah, I believe that's the notice that the army sends you as your call to duty.
"Come back to the army...for.. you know"

Right.

I ended the relationship with a text message that I still have not topped to this day.

"THE JIG IS UP. SUCK IT"

...and that, my friends.. is the tale of Big Crazy.

The State of "Eh", Chapter 5

2010-01-04T13:24:00.000-08:00

Chapter 5 - Big Crazy

We met at Joe's Pub.
Like I said, I had started dating these damn models, while deciding to not date models.
I'm not being stereotypical here, but these guys...err....not exactly the brilliant, shining lights of intelligence illuminating a room.
They actually made rooms dim. Dimmer. More dim. D to the I to the M. Rrrrrrrah! (old school rap "rrrrrrrah").

Big Crazy was gorgeous. His smile was made out of unicorns and candy. Candy unicorns... with sunshine... and dazzling bedazzelosity.

Women were tossing invisible panties at him while he walked by.

I wasn't actually paying him much attention to notice this, because I was being silly and drunk in another section of the party.
When I walked closer to the stage I saw it. An invisible panty whipped past my head with ferocious speed.
I looked to see where it had been launched.

There he was.

I looked, admired... and kept the rest of my party going.

Whatever, man. I already know what kind of corny trouble I could get into with you. Look away Jean. Look.... away. He wasn't my type. I was more of a "genius thug" girl. At the time. That couldn't be something I could entertain my time with. No way. Later for all that empty beauty.

You can always feel someone staring at you. Searing eyes into your person. My neck felt hot. I turned around and he was right behind me.

"Whoah hoh!" I exclaimed. He was very close. He smelled like photo shoots.

I don't know what the actual exchange was. It wasn't memorable. The part of the conversation that I do remember, was the same part that allowed me to take his number.
His hand was bandaged up.

Ahh.. a model with a noticeable flaw... hmmmm..

I asked about it and he told me he had punched some dude in the face.

Oh.. well.. oh... Jean likey face punching. Jean don't likey YOU, but face punching makes you intriguing, sir.
This makes me a crazy person, I know... but it was the idea that there may be something more to this dude than just superficial "pretty".

He gave me his number... I forgot about it for awhile. I did keep it in my wallet though.

That fateful-less night of the my horrible blackplanet date, I looked to my wallet.

I thought, "Hmm.. well.. it won't be a LONG date... it's already 2am. Besides, I know he's awake, has money and it could be entertaining."

I called him up... right as I was about to hang up, due to his lack of answering, I heard "Hello??" music blaring in the background...

"Hey!" I screamed... it's "Jean.. Jean from Joe---"
I didn't get through the whole sentence before he yelled back "OH JEAN!!! YOU NEVER CALLED ME!!!! WHAT HAPPENED??"

It made me smile. I didn't have to go through the entire awkward "Yeah.. so.. I met you in Joe's Pub.. no no.. JOES.. no.. PUB.. right, right.. yeah.. no.. I'm the girl with the arms?? you know.. the GIRL??"

That always sucks.

We made plans to meet up at Cafeteria in about 15 minutes. I was impressed that he was leaving where he was. It sounded fun. I was hungry.. tired.. and desperately in need of entertainment and flattery.

He was way better looking than I remembered. The conversation was better looking than he was.. innnnnteresting!
Huh, I was wrong... I guess you shouldn't judge a book by it's stupid model cover. Okay. Touché Jean. Too shay.

We left Cafeteria and he drove me home.. a CAR? I'm from Manhattan.. who the fuck owns a CAR??? Never dated a dude with a whole CAR before. Think of the CAR possibilities!!! We could go apple picking!!!!
I have no idea why I thought "apple picking".. It just seemed like the kind of thing that people with CARS drove off to do, last minute, on a whim. Oh GOODY!

That night, Big Crazy rocked my entire world off it's axis. Then back on it's axis, then off.. then.. you get the idea.

I was IN. Flynn and I were in cahoots.

For the next couple of weeks, Big Crazy ( who had not been dubbed "Big Crazy" as of yet..we'll call him "Rome") ... ahem.. ROME and I were tight like new weaves. Tiiiiiight like Rah Digga songs. Motherfucking tight.

Then.. came the red flags.

I'm a huge music fan.. I am VERY picky about artists that I am fans of and what specific songs that fans of the same artist should abhor. It bothers me very, very much when someone who seems to understand music goes insanely awry with their choice of playlist tunes.

We were on the FDR, windows down..... speeding.... beautiful night.. perfect New York.. listening to Jay Z.
All of a sudden, he says, "wait... we gotta listen to this."

I was excited, for him to set the mood.. he clearly understood the vibe.. aww yeah..

aww.. no.

I let it play for about 20 seconds before I turned around and said "You're kidding.. it's not funny... turn it off yo."

He was bopping like a pez dispenser gone wild, driving faster.

'Seriously??? No. Noo. No yo.."

"You don't like 'We Belong To The City'???" he looked at me all incredulous like..

"Nigga.. you LIKE 'We Belong To The City'???" I responded??? with wide eyes, leaning forward in my seat.

The next 40 minutes were an intense debate of his general love for this song. It was his favorite Jay Z song. Cain't nothing top this motherfucking song.. AM I CRAZY??? Clearly this is his greatest song ever.

I don't really care if this sounds crazy to you guys.... clearly it was a sign of things to come. Of thoughts that were founded in insanity.... obviously.

Oh.. also.. he said he was in the army.. and a model.. then came the story of me driving a notable rappers red Benz somewhere uptown.. who was apparently my estranged husband....

I need another chapter for this...

I don't even drive, man..

The State of "Eh", Chapter 4

2009-11-14T15:16:00.000-08:00

Chapter 4 - The Prelude to Big Crazy

I met Big Crazy at Joe's Pub. Years ago. He was a model. I made it a rule to not date models right before I started dating a few models.

Good work, Jean.

I also made it a rule to not date Big Crazy at the same time that I started dating Big Crazy.

In my defense, right after I met him, heard his corny ass pick up line, took his stupid number on that stupid paper and vowed to never call him... I meant that shit. I meant it so fucking hard. I gave new meaning to "meant". That's not really a good defense, is it???

Let me explain.

The reason I ended up going out with Big Crazy, was Blackplanet.
Blackplanet and it's stupid ass dating results.

For about 2 months, I had been talking to a guy I met on Blackplanet. We seemed to click well, phone conversations were cool, all in all, I was interested. It's a pretty big deal if I'm even slightly interested, so ... it was a pretty big deal to go on a "date".

I'm not very good at "dates".. I mean, I have incredible date ideas.... elaborate plans.... I would like to be taken on dates.. I just end up not really GOING on very many dates.
Circumstances are always different in my relationships.

I had one boyfriend who was the king of dates.. It was a welcome experience. We would be thoroughly exhausted after all our "date" time though... Falling asleep at dinner, just... man... we were dating HARD.
He took dates to SCHOOL. Learned them... smacked them in the date mouth with a white dueling glove. This motherfucker could plan some motherfucking DATES.
I tried to match his "Master of Dates" status and plan a kick ass date when he came to NY. I failed miserably. He looked miserable. I was so angry.
That's another story though....

I digress.

Back to Blackplanet.

So we had planned a date. Actually, no.. I had planned a date. It was a doozy of an evening. Well, it WOULD have been a doozy of an evening if I had went on the date with SOMEONE ELSE.

Siiiigh.

I really overestimated his.... well.. comprehension of EVERYTHING.
I don't know how he managed to play off intelligence on the internet, or on the phone. I like to think it was a Cyrano sort of situation and someone was feeding him lines to me. Where is THAT dude? I should have been on the date with that dude.

Having his fake intelligence and fake free spirit in mind, the date was planned like this:

Meet up at Union Square.
Go to very rare showing of "A Clockwork Orange" ( I KNOW!!! RIGHT?)
Stop by Remote Lounge for drinks and fun (Remote used to be fun as hell! Great concept bar until it got ruined).
Late night dinner at.. well.. any great late night downtown NYC eatery.

None of those things went right.

He showed up at Union Square as the 1.5 version of his Blackplanet/phone 8.0 version...................

"Oh..." I thought, "there's no way in hell I'm sitting through this fucking great movie with you." I thought.
"I'ma go inside and just see how tickets are looking right now" Is what I said.

Man, I came out of that building looking real disappointed. All Longface McNichols I was.
"No more tickets" said I.

I grabbed my fake sadness next to me and held it there for the remainder of the night.
Clutching that sadness made me feel slightly better. I held it to me.. close like a sad, outdated pocketbook.

"Duh." His face and body language said.
"Shut up." My body language, unreadable by the retarded, said back.

They had tickets. They had 29 tickets left. I remember the number, simply for the number.
"We have 29 tickets left" -them
"That's a damn shame" - me
I truly, deeply, wanted to see that movie on a big screen. Hopefully it will happen again. I just, I just couldn't even do it.
Just NO.

I really wasn't in the mood to go home yet. I had gotten ready for the night, date ready... all groomed and preened and other "eds". Fuck it.. let's just drink. It's quite possible that I could give him away at Remote, as well as find a new date. Okay, let's try that.

We take a cab down to Remote Lounge... I warn him.. yet again.. "yeah don't try and match me drink for drink.. you will lose... it will be awful..."

Fast forward 2 hours later...

We're in McDonald's. 22nd & 6th ave.
He is WASTED. Mostly because I told him- "yeah don't try and match me drink for drink.. you will lose... it will be awful..."

He didn't listen.

At this point, I'm like... "Say man.... umm.. lemme buy you a cheeseburger or something to soak your liquor up"
We are never going to a level PAST McDonalds.... so I figure this is a nice gesture.
Dude is not standing on line with me. Dude is at the seats in the front passed out.

OH NO... PASSED THE FUCK OUT.

I try and wake him up.. I stood on that line for 15 fucking dumb ass minutes getting him some fucking food.
He is not getting up.
I don't even half ass try.... I genuinely try to wake him up... Grab his face, stuff it in the bag... ......Nothing. Lift his arms and smack his face with his own hands.. Nothing.

Ok, well fuck it then.. It is 1: 07 am... I sir, am STILL not done with my dating evening.

I then make a choice that I consider a hard, tough choice in my dating career.
I should leave him.
Right there.
In the McDonalds.
Fuck this.
I tried.

I contemplate this outside, while dragging hard on my cigarette... randomly turning around to see if anyone has started messing with him yet and sucking my teeth every time I look.

Good Jean says: What if someone tries to kill him??? He's not from Manhattan!!!! What if he gets robbed??? You could just put him in a cab.

Normal Jean says: Yeah, well....prolly should have thought all those amazing thoughts before you decided that you could have 4 dirty martinis. Seriously... FOUR??? That's ALL?? That is a grown man. I, Jean am not responsible for some strangers mishaps. Plus, he was a total crap date. Even before passing out. There wasn't much difference between him being conscious and comatose. Just leave him there with the food.

Crap.

I flicked my stog across the street and walked to the payphone. I didn't turn around again.
Same pocketbook from the night I met Big Crazy.
I was out, I was sure he'd be out..... why not..

RING RING....
RING...

"Hey.. it's Jean.. HI! Umm.. what are you doing?"

to be cont.........

The State of "Eh" , Chapter 3

2009-11-03T10:08:00.000-08:00

Chapter 3 - Perfectly Shitty, Harp Playing Angels

He was hot. He was a really hot guy.
We used to watch him in the park. Grouped together, giggling at his steaminess.
He played ball.. I think..
Maybe he just wore a lot of jerseys.

I didn't really care. He looked hot in the jerseys. He could have been the worst basketball player ever.
He could have played cricket, for all I care. I sincerely doubt that though. Not too many cricket players in .. wait, where was he from? I'm sure I knew what borough he was from at the time, but years have passed and insignificant details like that tend to pour right out of my mind. His last name, things he liked to do, hist first na--- kidding... but, irrelevant things like that.
I keep the good info, like he was hot. Or, the super bad bullshit, which I'll get to.

One day while sitting, doing steaminess giggling, the moment happened. OOOOHH!!
Is he walking over here?? Is he smiling at me??? OOOooooOh!!!!

My girlfriends giggled harder, mumbled a bunch of "Oh shit, bitch.. he's coming over here" like quotes, while elbowing me in the sides. It wasn't subtle. You don't know how to be workably subtle at 21. It's a learned skill. They might has well have just ripped my top off and thrust me forward into his path while dancing around going - " OoOoOGA BOOGA MAAAN GOOOD!!"

Right.

So, by the time I had finished directing the scene where he walked in slow motion towards me, smiling, teeth glinting in the afternoon sun, women throwing their underwear as he dodged it..... he had already been standing there for about a minute.
Stupid face me.

My friends weren't any help. Their jaws on the floor, oozing drool into the park grates. We must have looked insanely retarded.

"Hey, " he said. It snapped me out of my dream sequence and back to the park.
"Ooh. Heeeeey. Hi. Hi there. Hi." I gushed my words ineptly. "Hey, man." Why was I continuing to say "Hi?"
SHUT UP ME!!

"What's ya name?" said Sexytron McSexface.

I had no idea what my name was. All I could hear in my head was "whatever you liiiike" from Coming To America.
No, don't answer with that.
Umm, what the fuck is my name again?? Stacey? Susie? Oh no.. I have to say something back. Uh.. uh...

"Yeah." I finally responded. "Yeah, my name." DOH!!!!

He cocked his head to the side quizzically and frowned his perfect eyebrows to form the cutest isosceles triangle between his perfect long lashed eyes. Perfect.

"Yeah," he smiled - "your name?"

I was okay. I could handle this. I mean, I'm ME! Pull it together.... spit some game..

"Tsidi," I managed to get it out with a smile, followed by a flirty point -"You?"

Alright now.. let's scale back on the burlesque hand point.... just answering questions is good.. no need to choreograph and act like someone is going to throw me a top hat and a cane.

"Steve." (not his name).

Oh................ yeah.

I think the sky opened to reveal angels playing harps on clouds when we... well.. you know. Well, I doubt it would be the same experience now, but I was young and... I was young.

Other than that, Steve was boring. Boring, insipid, and dumb. Dumb, insipid and boring.
I can't actually recall any conversation of value ever being held between us. I tried not to talk too much, so as not to hurt his mind. I swear I heard bits of it imploding when we were close. Just vanishing, right out of his beautiful skull. *THWAP* Gone.
Tiny puffs of smoke wafting out of his perfectly crafted ears, hanging in the air just long enough for me to blow them away, pat him on the head and say -"shhh."

Yeah, Steve and I had no future. I endured the (yeah RIGHT, ENDURED, HA) physical relationship for as long as I could, without feeling like I was losing brain cells just being around him. I had to end it. I was pretty sure he wouldn't be heartbroken, or know how to spell heartbroken, so it wasn't a big deal .
Just one more time and I would be ready to say "buuhhhh bye".

The morning after my decided END, I got up and went to get a coffee and some cigarettes from the deli downstairs. I ended up smoking and walking around the block once, practicing my "this just isn't going to work" speech.
I was feeling good about my fake sad face, deliberate words and general false melancholy by the time I got back upstairs.

I opened the door, looked around.. Where's Steve?
At this time I was living in what I dubbed, my "Studio Duplex". A small studio apartment in Chelsea with a giant loft bed. You could indeed swing a cat in there, but the cat wouldn't make it past the first wall. This to say, that if he was there, I would have known immediately.

Hmm.. ok.. well.. this is weird. No note, no call to my cell to say he was leaving...
I was relieved and annoyed at the same time.
Okay, so .. I don't have to make this dumb ass speech? Great... but.. did he just... break up with ME FIRST???
Heeeeey Steve... saaaaay man...

I went in the bathroom to wash my hands and........

Get the fuck out of here.

My toilet is full of log.

Not just one log. Two. Two giant logs hugged up on each other.
Oh, fucking no. I look away and cry out "AGGGHHHHH" and flush.... TRY to flush... handle just jiggles about. You're kidding.
Yo.. did he ..... Did he just shit logs, break my toilet and bounce???

I run out of the bathroom repulsed, grab my cell and call my friend, while running out of my door.
I tell her the whole story quickly as I take the stairs two at a time down to the lobby to find the handyman.
I also realize that I feel like I have to explain how the logs are not my property. I don't even see how things that size could come out of a human body. I do not want the handyman thinking I have a super human sized anus. Or colon. Oh God.
My story sounds suspect...

Sure.. sure.. some guys shits in your toilet and leaves.. Yeah, happens all the time. Sure miss.

Sigh. I think I saw Steve a couple years later. He did not look as spectacular. I didn't really know how to bring up the logs.
"Hey.. uh.. what was the deal with you shitting and breaking my facilities and then just leaving? Not calling me? I was breaking up with YOU!!! YOU ASSHOLE!!"

I wanted to say that, part of me... I just felt that, at that point, the story had enriched my life. I didn't care as to why he did it. In fact I'm sure that HE doesn't know why he did it.

Or maybe I underestimated Steve.

Maybe Steve is and was, truly diabolical....had grown tired of my stupid WORDS and THOUGHTS.
Maybe Steve hated spending time with me as much as I hated spending time with him.
Maybe, Steve had devised this plan all along and was just waiting for the right time when I left the house to put it all into action.
Maybe Steve has been telling this story to all his friends over the years, mocking me, laughing.

Heeeey.. wait a minute.

Fuck You, Steve!
(especially if you're reading this).

How Have I Changed?

2009-10-27T00:53:00.000-07:00

I was going through my myspace blogs and I came across one of these "personal surveys" I did. I'm not one who does these usually.. I think it was just a "why not?" sort of moment I had.

So, I'll do it again. Decidedly to see how much my answers have changed over this period of time... and share. Like you even care to know. If you don't care, you should leave now. GO! GET OUT!

Here's the original...

Monday, March 10, 2008

Answering quizveys
Current mood: complacent
Category: News and Politics
Don't do em.
Never have.
I changed my mind, thought.. why the fuck not?

What's your Status?:
-Superstar

What scares You the most about Guy's?:
- Guy's who have a capital letter on "g" seem scary. I suppose because they're important or something. On second look, the "y" in "you" is also capitalized. I suppose this diminishes the fear and places us on the same level. So I am no longer afraid. Nothing then. Nothing scares me. About "Guys".

Have you ever lied to make someone happy?
-No. Never. Are you happy reading this?

Like to travel?
-Depends where to. Trip to the city dump. Fucking detest it. Fiji? Let's roll out.

Like Someone?
- Again with the important people. I guess this works here. Uh, yeah.

Do they know?
-Yup

Who sleeps with you every night?
-Why does that sound like I need assistance sleeping? Ha!
Like, "who helps you brush your teeth everday?"
Way to avoid an answer though, huh?

Think you're attractive?
-Sometimes.

Want to get married?
-Let's deal with this divorcing status first, shall we?

Are you a good student?
-Define "good". While we're at it, define "student" and "are".
I'd like to think so.

Are you currently happy?
-I'm ok. Happy? Like filled with glee? Not really.

Have you ever cheated? Been cheated on?
-Yup. Yup, yup, yup, yup... I could continue.

Have you ever kissed someone who is just a friend?
-I don't understand the question. I can't even see the screen. That question is too small! I can't answer it. Why would you make your questions so small?? That people can't SEE them and ANSWER!! Thank God I can see the next one.

New Year's Resulotion?
-Only a little into the year. It could drastically change. Could be like, "stop maiming the elderly". Or "quit doing shots of yager at carnivals". Or, "work out more...not drunk". I don't know yet.

Do you believe in God?
-That's between me and my maker. Mmemnoch.

Do long distance relationships work?
-I dunno.

Do you believe in astrology?
-It's not a myth, so yes.

Do you believe in love at first sight?
-Yup.

Are you the Jealous type?
-The good jealous (normal people jealous) and then when driven to utter insane behavior, the OTHER kind of jealous that has involved tape recorders and elaborately planned schemes and plots to expose the other partner. Yeah. Not anymore though.
Boooooo that shit.

Do you drink or smoke?
-Nope. Never touch the stuff.

Do you make fun of people?
-Am I breathing?

Do you think dreams eventually come true?
-Manifest Destiny.

What are your Nicknames?
-I'll talk about the ones I can type publicly. Jeannie, Jean Greasy, Jean Grizzle, Jeannie Grigio, Red Bean, Jean Naté, Jeanie Bean... lol a lot.

Go to the movies or rent?
-Rent? What year is this?

Have you ever moved?
-My persona-. I am moving right no--. Oh yeah, word. Mad times son.

Have you ever stolen anything?
-Hahaha. Yeah.

How's the weather right now?
-Winteresque.

Last time you cut your hair?
-4 days ago.

Last person you talked to on the phone?
-My mama.

Are you a Taker or a Giver?
-Giver.

Loud or soft music?
-Loud as fuck. You would swear Redman was inside the tru--

The Song that is playing in your page is dedicated to?
-Heh, heh.

Night or day?
-Night.. but summertime?? Outside?? Day.

Do you have a Tatoo?
-No, I think they're for losers.

Do you have real plant's at home?
- I have flowers.. other than that, I murder plants. But I'm gonna plant veggies and herbs in the back. Oh! Also, steak. I'ma grow steak.

Future job?
-film director

Current job?
-I don't know.

Current love?
-rollerskating jams, writing, Superman.

Current longing?
-$$$, summertime, stability, more flat surfaces in my apartment. Unresolved situations and communication issues to be deaded.

Current disappointment?
- don't want to talk about it.

Current annoyance?
-The world turning into Idiocracy for real.

Have you ever loved someone?
-yup

Last thing you bought?
-wine

Most recent thing you are looking forward to?
- laying in bed

If you could go to any place right now where would you go?
-to the future. For like 10 minutes. With a videocamera that I could bring back.

Do you support the war in Iraq?
-seriously?

Who you want for Valentines Day?
-Like as a present?? LOL. Or a pass? Umm.. Superman.

Pick a movie quote?
- Well. I have good news. I no longer fear death.

Date you filled this survey?
-Todizzle.

Here's the new one:

Monday, March 10, 2008

What's your Status?:
-Motherfucking Superstar

What scares You the most about Guy's?:
- I know a guy named Guy. Guy is cool as shit. I don't know what you're asking about OF Guy's... like Guy's what? That's weird. This is a weird question.

Have you ever lied to make someone happy?
-I have. It doesn't make anyone happy in the end.

Like to travel?
-Very much.

Like Someone?
- Yes.

Do they know?
-I try and explain it... I'm not quite sure if they get it or not. It's frustrating.

Who sleeps with you every night?
-I do.

Think you're attractive?
-Yes.

Want to get married?
-Let's deal with this divorcing status first, shall we? ( I have to change this)

Are you a good student?
-I would like to think so. Sometimes I'm not ready to learn things. I'm trying to get better at that.

Are you currently happy?
-In certain ways, yes. Very much.

Have you ever cheated? Been cheated on?
-Yes. Yes.

Have you ever kissed someone who is just a friend?
- Yes, but I don't just kiss people all willy nilly. If that kiss happened, we were not just friends afterwards.

New Year's Resulotion?
-You misspelled that shit.

Do you believe in God?
-

Do long distance relationships work?
-Not in my experience. I mean, not for me.... but I can't speak for everyone.

Do you believe in astrology?
-Yes.

Do you believe in love at first sight?
-Oh yes. Yes.

Are you the Jealous type?
-I would love to say I'm not. I am. If given reason. Otherwise, no.

Do you drink or smoke?
-Yup, yup.

Do you make fun of people?
-I'm doing it RIGHT NOW. and NOW.. and whenever you read this. Then 5 minutes after that. On a loop.

Do you think dreams eventually come true?
-They must.

What are your Nicknames?
-I have a few. None will be discussed in this forum.

Go to the movies or rent?
-Movies.

Have you ever moved?
-I try to stay very, very still. It's really best for everyone.. lol. I'm a nomad. Trying to settle now. I know this is not the last place I will live. It is where I need to be right now.

Have you ever stolen anything?
-yessir.

How's the weather right now?
-quite nice for the time of year.

Last time you cut your hair?
-my HAIR hair? or hair that became my hair by way of purchase? If purchase, 2 days ago.

Last person you talked to on the phone?
-Aquarius.

Are you a Taker or a Giver?
-Giver. Too much.

Loud or soft music?
-Loud as fuck. You would swear Redman was inside the tru--

The Song that is playing in your page is dedicated to?
-They're all dedicated to that cat. All of em. All the time. All day son.

Night or day?
-Night. No matter the weather. Summertime, daytime wins over night.

Do you have a Tatoo?
-Just got a new one too. Yes. got em.

Do you have real plant's at home?
- I didn't do well with the ones on the terrace. I do well with plants... I just gave up. Sorry plants. I was gonna get new ones today, but Pharoahe did not drive to Home Depot. Blame him.

Future job?
-film director

Current job?
-Writer

Current love?
-Music, magic, writing, my life, a dude.

Current longing?
-To finish a book. To get these videos shot. To clarify things. To shut people up.

Current disappointment?
- I don't even know how to answer this.

Current annoyance?
-Same as the disappointment.

Have you ever loved someone?
-Yes.

Last thing you bought?
-Thai food and some great dresses from the vintage store.

Most recent thing you are looking forward to?
-performing tomorrow night. conversation (this is getting bad)

If you could go to any place right now where would you go?
-miami

Do you support the war in Iraq?
-seriously?

Who you want for Valentines Day?
-why is that written all slang and shit? "Who you want, girl?" That's racist.

Pick a movie quote?
-How's that working out for you? Being clever?

Date you filled this survey?
-October 27th, 2009.

The State of "Eh" , Chapter 2

2009-09-22T09:54:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2 - Richard, Vegas and the Yakuza

Pack up. Not too much, not too little. Don't know what outfits to pack. What kind of trip is this anyway? Pack two bathing suits....stop.. pack FOUR bathing suits. Stop. Feel like I'm acting out a telegram.

Weird trip. Friend offered to pay for vacation time. In Vegas. Never been to Vegas before, so kinda nervous. Never been alone with friend before in close quarters. He says- "you MUST come to Vegas!" Friend has had a crush on me for years. Not secretly.
Is this friendly? I dunno.. Sounds like something else. In need of something else anyway.

"Something else" sounds far better than the new nothingness at home.
"Something else" feels warm, exciting, whimsical. Whimsical has been unattainable for years. Changed it's number. Being rude.

Go to the airport, board the plane, chill out. Seems like a good time to start drinking. Drinking and taking pills. Pop speed. Order vodka. Stop. Order THREE vodkas. Not free?

"Sheesh, I remember the days when my free plane booze came with the freedom to light up a smoke and recline in an uncomfortable half lean. Now, just the half lean. Can I smoke outside?" Flight attendant is only slightly amused.

I'm starting to notice the middle aged gentleman next to me is nudging his arm closer to mine on the armrest. Slowly, about half a centimeter every 20 minutes. I intensely dislike when people move slowly into my personal space.
Men seem to do this a lot. On the subway especially. Look, I know I'M not moving, so it's clearly YOU. If you started off 1 foot away and now you're practically on my lap, I'm going to notice. I'm intensely perceptive.

However, three vodkas and two hours in, I'm in good spirits. Terrible unintentional pun.

I turn and say quietly - "If you want to hold hands, we can just do that now."
He turns, smiles, grabs my hand. Pushes the flight attendant call button and says to me- "We need more drinks."

Let me describe Richard for you.

Richard is 52 (not a guess, he showed me his drivers license).
Richard is happily married with 2 children, Jessica and Brandon. Jessica is 22, Brandon is 18. Great looking kids.
Richard's wife's name is Elie. Elie is 46. Elie is quite stunning.
Richard is about 5' 10", white, very very very very tan and in amazing shape for his age. For ANYONES age really.
This is because Richard works out 4 days a week and enjoys extreme... well.. anything.
Richard is a very attractive man. In a rugged, older Hugh Jackman sort of way.
Richard is pretty well off, we started discussing his job, but that's where things got fuzzy for me.
Richard and I are getting wasted, still holding hands.
Richard wants me to tell him more about myself. Richard looks ecstatic and thoroughly involved.
Richard is a good listener.

I'm not sure exactly WHY I decided to tell Richard the story I told. I think, partially because I felt terribly awful for Elie, Jessica and Brandon. I thought they deserved the truth. Which made Richard not deserve the truth. Not in a malicious way, I suppose in some sort of universal balance. It's not my job to do that, no.... but.. I could.. so I did.

Also, I was drunk... also, I enjoy comedy.

Richard has said- "Why won't you tell me about yourself more?" around 10 times now.

So far, I've told Richard that I'm half Brazilian and half Japanese. Richard likes this combo very much. He says he would have guessed that. He fancies himself "intensely perceptive" as well.
I have also told him, numerous times, that - " I don't really like talking about my life.. it's very painful to rehash all the memories..."

Richard asks me again. I now respond with - "So much DEATH.. SO.... much... Bloo-ah ah ah ahhhhhd" and fall gently onto his shoulder, weeping softly.
Richard coos me, like a child, strokes my hair and says "shhhhh" while rocking me back and forth.
Other passengers are starting to listen.

I have to turn it down a notch.

I slowly draw back from Richard's shoulder, he passes me a napkin, I use it to dab my tears while shaking my head and saying - "I'm so sorry.. sometimes the tears, they flow.. like a river.. like a.. ri--i-ii-i-veeeerrrrrr." I draw out the last letters back into sobs and fall back on his shoulder again.

Fuck a notch.

Richard hits the call button again and is saying that another drink should relax me. He feels awful, he says. This is all he can do right now, he says. He's here to listen, he says. So, so beautiful.. he says.

This is getting good. The free drinks are really a bonus at this point.

I draw back dramatically from his shoulder once more, letting him dab my eyes with a fresh napkin, as mine are being ripped to pieces with my thumbs and index fingers, decorating my lap and the floor around us like children's construction paper snowflake cutout remnants. Only damp, and stained with eyeliner. Deviant goth children's construction paper snowflake cutout remnants.

I flip my hair and gather it to fall on one side, tilting my head down and then up at him longingly.
"Alright.. I trust you.. you can't trust anyone, you know. It's been so long since I had anyone to talk to. You're so good."
I clasp his hand tightly with both of my hands. He swoons and melts down further in his seat, eyes completely open and ready for information. He looks concerned, caring. I feel bad.... for about 5 seconds until the drink arrives.
He squeezes the miniscule lemon wedge into my drink, swizzle sticks it about and hands it to me.

I take a sip... I breathe deeply and exhale. I turn my body to face him...

For the next hour, I tell Richard about my life.

No, I do not kill people.
Yes, I do, deal with the dead a lot.
No, I do not work in a morgue.
Yes, I am what people call, a "cleaner."
No, I do not enjoy my job.
Yes, I am the best in the business.... In the Northeast and several Japanese provinces.
Yes, we still refer to them as "provinces" for the sake of work, staying off the grid.
No, I do not work in South America.
Yes, my line of work is very dangerous and politically frowned upon there.
No, I do not understand why he is shocked by this fact. I thought it was well known. But.. what do I KNOW about the world?

Richard is captivated.

I tell him of my family.... on my father's side.. killed by ninjas as they slept.
I can't believe I'm getting away with this shit... it's fantastically preposterous.

I tell him of my father's Yakuza ties. I pull my hair back and show him my tattoos. He is in awe.
I tell him about my parents forbidden love that almost got them killed, but they overcame the odds.
I tell him about being trained to be a cleaner since I was 5 years old.
I tell him about all the products that scrub out blood stains the best, how to pick out bone fragments from shag carpets, how much I loathe apartments decorated in 1960's and 1970's regalia.

Richard nods a lot.

I am spent....

I say, "I really should stop.. I don't even know you.. you could turn me in as soon as we step off this plane.. oh God.. please.. please don't do that to me..oh God.. what have I done.. what have I said."

Richard grabs my chin gently and says - "Doll.. I just want to take care of you."
I turn away sharply.. "No.. you.. you can't.. It's too dangerous.. I couldn't put you in that position... you.. your family.."

I am truly aghast at my acting skills at this point. I'm almost not even listening to what he's saying because I'm so impressed with myself.

It's going to be time to get off the plane soon. Richard tells me to come with him. He has the high rollers suite at Caesar's.
Now I'M impressed.... ha! Slightly tempted even.. NO! Bad Jean! Bad Jean!

I tell him no.. I'm here to see a friend.. we have some time planned.

He asks - " Are you," he stops.
"Am I what? " I ask him.
He says - "Are you ... umm.. working? While you're here?"

I look down... don't respond. Richard is apologetic - "Oh.. I .. I shouldn't have asked that.. Oh.. I'm sorry." he stammers.

"No, no.. it's alright Richard.. Honestly, I don't know. I don't think so. They'll just call me. I thought this was a vacation, but... I truly don't know. I can't.. I can't involve you."

Richard throws himself back in his seat and stomps his foot on the floor. "Goddamnit!" he says... "This isn't right! This shouldn't be your life! We could.. we could be happy!!!"
"Here" he then says, handing me his business card.. "Just.. please.. if you change your mind.. I know we could.. I just know"

This is fucking incredible.

I place my hand gently over his.. stroke his face and say - "Maybe.. in another life.. maybe"
He grabs my hand.. kisses it and keeps in on his cheek.
We stay like that until it's time to deplane.

"Goodbye" I say, as we step into the airport. I speed walk away. Pretending to cry, I look back. He is just standing there, bags dropped on the ground.

I get outside and see friend, waiting in car in front..

'Holy shit man.. I gotta tell you this fucking story." He is all eager ears and smiles.

Getting in the car I see Richard coming out.. I wave as we're pulling off. He waves back.

I never saw Richard again. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had called.

The State of "Eh" Begins HERE.

2009-09-16T14:21:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all.. Sooooo.. I've decided to put together a little collection of (slightly fiction) short stories for you. This is 1 of 20.

The collection is called "The State of 'Eh''
Enjoy the first chapter. Please feel free to leave comments.. You guys never leave comments! What's THAT about?? lol. ok. GO!

The State of EH

Chapter 1- Yogurtgate

I had been happy with the way things were going for awhile. Not ecstatically happy, but then again that's never really been my style. Content, not as moody, drinking less. All this happiness and normalcy was bringing me the fuck down.

I know, sounds weird. I don't happen to think I'm weird, but I've heard that a lot. A LOT. From a lot of different types of people. Some of these people I dearly care for, the other 99% I could really stand to never see or talk to again. I don't think you can judge someone's weirdness by your own level of normalcy.
The point of it all being, that I was unhappy, with being happy.

How then, do you fuck yourself into being pleased with dissatisfaction? Self sabotage came as the answer. I had to self sabotage my own happiness in order to be more morose, which was actually "moreatpeace". This would create a new state of "eh" for me. "Eh" is where I generally feel comfortable resting my feelings and emotions. "Eh" is safe, reliable and free from disappointing expectations. Of others, of myself, of others behavior in public, of MY behavior in public.

I had tried, but, nothing brought me back to the feeling of completion like "whatever" did.

He was great. Too great. Nothing was wrong with this guy. I mean, NOTHING.
He put the cap back on the toothpaste. I never even knew where that thing WAS. I would lose it after the first use and just let the dried toothpaste act as a sealant. I thought this was quite effective, as well as time saving. He thought it was - "grossly negligent and.. just.. just.. why honey?"
Then he would tousle my hair (which I kinda liked) and kiss me on the cheek, saying - "It's ok babe, I'll get another toothpaste. You're adorable."
He did, he kept buying them. I kept a stash of my grody, dried ones under the sink. Until he found them, which resulted in more of the same tousling and kissing.

I think I wanted him to get a little angry. Not that I wanted a FIGHT, I just didn't want to always be in the RIGHT. Poet, don't know it.

We might have had an argument once. He preferred to list it as - "airing our grievances."
I preferred to list it as - "SHOWDOWN MOTHAFUCKA!"

It was about frozen yogurt.

Not the YOGURT itSELF, but the UTENSIL I chose to taste the yogurt with.

It was late in the evening, I was leaning against the kitchen counter and decided to take a taste of the yogurt. I generally don't dig frozen treats in large doses. I can't believe people eat PINTS of ice cream at a time. I've always been envious of movie scenes where chicks are all hugged up on the couch with blankets, in front of TV's, in pajamas, spoon scraping the bottom of their Rocky Road container, to really drive home the "woe is me I've just been dumped" effect.
Never done it.. Can't do it. Would most likely projectile vomit. This might keep the feeling of woe really steady..... I choose bourbon instead.

Back to the yogurt.

I opened the utensil drawer only as much as I had to to stick my hand in a grab A UTENSIL. Any utensil really.. all I wanted was a tiny taste of the damn yogurt.
It ended up being a fork. Had it been a KNIFE, I would have still used it anyway. It can pick up a bite of yogurt, so WHO CARES?

Oh, guess who cares?

I don't think he had noticed it was a fork until I pried the top off and dug in. I forked up the tiniest bite of vanilla, tasted, replaced the top, put it back in the freezer.
I looked up at him to see the most disgusted look in the world. "OMG..what?" I asked. "Are you looking at me like that because I just used a fork? So what?"
It was the look of incredulousness, coupled with the disgust you would see on someone's face while they were forced to watch a puppy get disemboweled.

"Oh my God.. are you really disgusted that I just used a fork? Seriously.... it's not that serious. I just didn't pick a spoon! What's the problem?"

It was very evident that I had thrown off the delicate balance of the universe by using the improper utensil for late night yogurt tasting. He did NOT understand why, how, I could put that fork in that container. It HAD to be done with a spoon.

I was thoroughly disgusted with him being disgusted. I was livid. I yelled for a bit, mocking him and then ended going out to drink with a good friend.

The restaurant we went to had paper lined tables on which I promptly began drawing a visual of how stupid this fight was. I asked the advice of others around us, who also drew small forks, spoons and charts about why in fact, this was ridiculous. I folded them up and put them in my purse. I threw them out a week later, worried that since we were OVER Yogurtgate, he would find them and I would have to go in on this dumb shit yet again.

I never forgot that incident. It made everything seem so stern, so forced into routine and habit, that anything outside of the norm could be considered horrifying. This truly bothered me. I felt like he was seeing my randomness and "eh" as a kind of despicable act at times, only to say it was "inspiring" at others.
I hated feeling like I had to conform, in my own place. Well, his place.. so.. yeah..

Fork, knife, spoon, fucking... CHOPSTICK... what does it matter? As long as it does the job... does it really matter WHAT you're using to get the job done?

I think this was really the first time I had been bothered by the traditional attitude he had sometimes. It didn't comfort me like some of the other things did.. it tossed me into "check yourself" mode......and my friend.. I just can't live like that.

Dream It.

2009-09-09T15:21:00.000-07:00

I used to have this dream.

I was me, just regular me, but.... I had this superpower.
Well, It was TWO superpowers. Both of them useless and ineffective in fighting crime, being USEFUL, saving lives...the normal things you would expect from a superpower. They sucked. They sucked more because they were in a DREAM and couldn't even be good. You can do anything in your dreams. Me? Not so much.

I could fly. Just.. not fly in a beneficial way. I had to take a running start and hurl my body upwards. Most of the times I would just end up hitting a wall, or people, or any object in my path. It hurt and it was embarrassing.

After this running start, I could only get about five inches higher than the top of a lamp post. I couldn't fly horizontally either, I was just standing up in the air flailing about, trying to outstretch my arms in the "one arm forward the other arm bent at the elbow with a clutched fist" superhero position. I looked like an idiot.
No one in the streets around me was amazed at my skills. They pointed, laughed, guffawed... All this while I floated above them, kicking my legs like I was treading water.

What a gyp.

My second superpower was equally disappointing, but became more involved.

I could... brace yourself.....................................get down flights of stairs very quickly.

I know... you're jealous.

I would hardly touch the steps, gliding with ease, approaching landings with the speed of a stair cheetah. Yes.... I was good.
I had to use the banister though.. SAFETY FIRST!

I just felt like it wasn't fast enough though... I didn't really have any superpowers to use when I got down to the crime scene. If I could move faster, maybe I could completely defuse the entire felony. I could stop bad things from being bad things before they ever had the chance to BE bad things.

Of course, I needed advice. I told my very good friend Mr. Len about my dream. He immediately (and brilliantly) named me "Step Sister".
How did I not think of that!!???!!

We came to the decision that I could try and up my "Step Sister" abilities by adding a costume. I thought it was a brilliant idea.

So, I put together a costume in my head.

Imagine The Riddlers costume, skin tight and all. Green as well, but I had SS logos in gold, intertwined, VERY designer.

I looked ridiculously hot.

Here's the snafu in the plan... yeah.. umm.. apparently, adding costumes to your stupid super power does nothing but TAKE THE SUPER POWERS AWAY.
Completely gone. Rendered ineffective. Iksnay on the powersay. All of that.

So here I am... hearing cries of distress coming from stories below me. In this stupid costume. With this gold eye mask. Did I mention the mask? It helps to look really stupid when there's a mask. 10 flights of stairs.. took me about 5 minutes. I think I cramped up too. When I get to the bottom, people are injured.. looking at me and crying out - "Why? Where were you??? We NEEDED YOU!!! AGGGHHHH."

Stupid ass costume. I tried to take it out of the dream.. I ended up never having the dream again. I just ruined it for myself. Stupid.

I finally did have my first flying dream though. Up in the clouds flying, superhero "I'm not even TRYING" arms...all back against my side, while I wove effortlessly through the cotton candy landscape. Best part was the soundtrack... everything was silent, except for the wind and Radiohead: "How To Disappear Completely"

If that wasn't the greatest dream I ever had...I don't know what could be. If you can somehow try and get that song into your dream and just fly around for a few hours, your life could better for it. I cried when I woke up. I hope I have that one again. I'm going to shoot for that tonight.

Cocks, Balls and Hangy Pools = PENTHOUSES!

2009-09-04T00:13:00.000-07:00

Yet another throwback blog. Some really funny shit from that year. ENJOY!

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Cock The Balls..oh oops. Rock The Bells
So, last month.. I'm in San Francisco at this party outside. This guy I've known for awhile comes outside, says hello, looks at my outfit and says, "Ohhhh, look at YOoooOOoU!!!! Like, hey!!! I can look good too!!!"

Am I wrong for being offended at this? WTF? You say that to women? WOW.

What the fuck ?
Did I have soot all over me before?
Was it the burlap sack with twine I was wearing prior to you seeing me?
WTF kind of comment is that?

Anyway..

Some short tidbits that have happened as of recent.

I got security escorted out of RTB catering tent for threatening to take the chef down to Chinatown. That's right.. Fight him...
Classsic lines from this episode include:

Me: " What fucking time do you get out of work??? I will take you down!!! I will meet you ....OUTSIDE of the parking lot!!!!"

This is funny because the venue was located in a very large parking lot.
I wanted to tell him to throw down in the parking lot.
I couldnt.

The security for RTB: "You can't fight him."

Me : " Oh I won't fight him in here."

S: " I cant have you fighting him anywhere... not in the streets either."

Me: "Oh, I think I can....You can't tell me what to do outside. This conversation is over. GOOD DAY! I SAID GOOD DAY SIR!!!!!"

Another security guard later : " You know, you and Flava Flav are the only 2 people to get kicked out of catering.But he didn't get security escorted out. "

Security: " I'm gonna need you to leave."
Me: "You're gonna have to bring a lot more heavy motherfuckers to get me the fuck out of here. Fuck! I can't have any fucking chicken? No salad? Well fuck you and your food. Fucking catering chef. Fuck off."

Chef apologizing later.... goes to hug me

Me: " I don't think so. Listen, we're at the point we're I'm shaking your hand and not punching you in the face.. Let's end our relationship here."

another episode:

Vegas (not part of the RTB tour..just in the middle of it)

Me: "But...where's the hangy pool??? I specifically asked for the Fantasy room with the hangy pool!!! Now there's no pool!! What are we supposed to do?? The pole in our room doesnt spin and it's dangerously close to the bed. We can't use that!! Now the outside pool is closed.. There's no hangy pool.. I don't know. We are very dry. Very dry and sad. "

They gave us the penthouse.

Chicago:

E: 'Why am I always tired when I hang out with you? I never sleep!! It's not healthy. It's not right. I think I have grey hairs. I'm so tired.. Ok.. well.. the suns not coming up for another 30 minutes.. That's enough to play more hangman.. I'm so tired."

Also, I ordered a drink at the bar. We spoke to the bartender for awhile. He was sweet, older white guy...wanted to know what the hell we were doing at the rap concert. 5 minutes later, I go to pick up my drink. It has disappeared.

What the??

From in front of me?

There's a cup with ice in it.. but no beverage. Weird.

He pours me another. We walk away. Go watch Wu. 2 minutes later I take a sip. There's nothing in it.

"what the fuck kind of cruel trick cup joke is this???"

Theres a hole in the bottom of the cup... sigh.

I'll tell you guys more stories later.

My life is ridiculously funny.

I'm taking up the accordion. I'm so serious.
I'll post a picture tomorrow.

If Just thinks he can take out my accordion skills.. He's got another think coming.

Also, thanx Kweli, Guru, 9th, Corey.. Sounds great. I'm excited.

Guru.. you are made of magic. Small particles of glued together stardusty magic.

And by the way, next time motherfuckers book an entire rap tour without one female on it..... I'm fucking buying some tools from North Korea. To take you down. To fucking Chinatown. Assholes.

Color Tag (a throwback blog)

2009-08-29T14:04:00.000-07:00

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Color tag

We had this great huge outside yard where we would have recess in summertime in my elementary school, P.S.3. Great school by the way... There was a whole floor downstairs where it was more of a gym sort of vibe, but the yard was really dope. I remember going back and visiting my school a couple of years ago and seeing how SMALL the yard was now. I used to think it was ginormous.. Anyways, that isn't what this is about.

Outside, we would play games like kickball, red rover, double dutch, shoot just about anything. I was never really an athletic kid, I always wanted to be, but I mostly sucked at sports. Later in junior high I would learn the skills to feign random sicknesses (is that a word?) and sit there like a log during PE. I was dope at dancing, but sports, always a klutz and the last kid picked on the team.
Well, no... it was myself and Rakesh, this tiny Indian kid with glasses...in the dictionary, he was the picture next to GEEK.

Sad, what was I then???

Sigh.
So, outside in the yard, one of the only games I participated in was tag. I would usually sit out the NORMAL tag, eh.. I might get into like freeze tag or something, but I was a slow ass runner too.
It was just me being humiliated and watching people race by me from base to base. I hardly ever caught anyone.
Fucking sad.
I also really enjoyed the whole process that preceeded the tag game, the elimination to who is it. Doggie, doggie diamond, or engine engine number 9.. We would always cheat at the end with that, 'my mother said that .....blah blah". I loved that shit. Except when I was it. I could pretty much judge how to count shit, so I would volunteer to lead the elimination a lot. Ok, I promise we are getting to the point here.

The game I ADORED, was a form of tag that we played called COLOR tag. No, no.. not like "Hey Black people RUN!".. No no.

The person who was "IT", would stand a certain fair distance from homebase and call out colors, which all of us had picked. Sometimes more than one person would pick the same color and they would take off for the other base. It was fun.

Now.. Why was this fun for me?

Well, I was a very large fan of the Crayola 64 box. I knew those colors man. I really did. What I lacked in athleticism, I made up for in creative areas. I was nowhere nice as an artist as my brother was, no ... But you know, I enjoyed using my Crayolas in a bright and coloriffic way. Plus, That damn sharpener at the back was addictive. I had nub crayons by after like... a week.

So...(point coming soon) being that I was an expert in the 64 box sequence of radiant wax, I transferred my knowledge of colors to the yard. Oh, yeah, those silly imbeciles would all pick colors like, GREEN, RED...duh. I didn't even stop to think that maybe they actually wanted to run and play.. lol.
I however, dug into my 64 box file and pulled out colors like "periwinkle"(my fav), "Salmon" or "Burnt Sienna". Yeah, no one ever called my damn color. That's right. Smugly at the end of the game when it was time to go in for class, those left on base would have to announce their colors. "MELON!! hahahHAHA!" I would shout. They would roll their eyes and walk away.
I had won!
I had won the game!
See, with me, it was more of a mind game.. HAHA! You dummies, wanna run around.. I'm an asshole. I think this is when I started to hone my (pause) asshole skills. I didn't give a flying fuck about running around that stupid yard. I was content to stand there being smug and going, "uhh..duh.. NOPE!" When they would call colors.

Thats my story, lol.

Oh yeah. Fuck 'Flesh' color.. Whose FLESH??? I would never use that color.
But Burnt Sienna was the one I used most because it looked like everyone I knew.

Aaaand SCENE!

New emails from "selling my roommate"

2009-08-17T03:04:00.000-07:00

Seriously.
I don't understand what's wrong with people.
Here's a new response:

XXXXXXXX@gmail.com to sale-macq5-132.
show details 9:58 PM (8 hours ago)
** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY --- AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
** Avoid: wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
** More Info: http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams.html

Omg sounds great, how do I get one of these?

ME:

Your message has been sent.

Reply

Jean Grae to XXXXXXXX
show details 6:03 AM (3 minutes ago)

Wow. I think I just wrote an entire ad about how you could do that.

Are you the same person who goes to the zoo and on the way out exclaims-
"Man.. I wish we could go see some caged animals sometime!"

Get it together.
- Show quoted text -

Selling My Roommate on craigslist

2009-08-15T16:53:00.001-07:00

Craigslist is a great place to sell and buy things. Like people.

I thought it would be cool to offer my roomie for sale. She wouldn't have to live there for a long time. Just enough to get the money. Here's the posting and one back and forth email. I'll update you with more email responses later.

in case you want the direct link: http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/fud/1323877379.html
Roommate for sale! - $1001 (Williamsburg)

Date: 2009-08-14, 8:50PM EDT
Reply to: sale-macq5-1323877379@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]

House broken roomie for sale!

Trained in the fine arts of conversation and fuckery, this room mate is the perfect addition to any home!

Illuminate a corner! Put life back into your dinner table! Make you bar come alive! Start a karaoke band!

Possibilities are endless with your new room mate!

Although ornery when not fed, your room mate will do well on a diet of vodka and a steady allowance for random needs! No amount is too small for the joy and pain your roomie can provide!

Out of witty quips? Ask your new room mate!
Need a strong opinion? Ask your new room mate!
Want new music? Your new room mate will make it!
Trouble with the wife? Your fucking problem!

get your new roomie TODAY!!!!

Will not deliver. Pick up. Cash and carry.

Location: Williamsburg
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

response 1:

trassy milly to sale-macq5-132.
show details 4:59 PM (3 hours ago)
** CRAIGSLIST ADVISORY --- AVOID SCAMS BY DEALING LOCALLY
** Avoid: wiring money, cross-border deals, work-at-home
** Beware: cashier checks, money orders, escrow, shipping
** More Info: http://www.craigslist.org/about/scams.html

Is this item still available forsale..

my reply:

Jean Grae to trassy
show details 5:20 PM (2 hours ago)
Yes! available for pick up today. Will accept liquor totalling $1,001.00 as well as cash.

their response:

trassy milly to me
show details 5:46 PM (2 hours ago)

Am okay with the price of this Unit and the condition of items
and we will like to make an outright purchase of this particular item
immediately because we are in need of it and we want to get as soon as
possible, I anticipate that a Money Order or certified check will be
sent to you via express mail or ups or Fedex as the mode of payment,
concerning the pickup, i will be responsible for that, where the mover
will come for the pick up at your location upon your confirmation of
receiving the payment and i want you to remove this Unit from the AD
now. So i will send the payment which will include the pick up
charges, in which you will make payable to the mover via money
gramm/Western union immediately after you have receive the payment and
you will be compensated with $10 extra for your running around to the
money gram/Western union outlet to avoid the delay. And I would
really love to come for the viewing but due to my work frame that
might not be possible..I want you to provide the
following payment information.
full name ...........................................
full home address (physical
City................................................
state................................................
zip code..............................................
tel#..................................................

As soon as this
is provided i will let you know when payment is mailed out and i will
update you on when you will receive the payment and give you
instructions on what to do.Here is my number incase you want to speak with
me 206 202 2980...thanks and i hope we handle this in good faith.
Thanks.

(wow)

My response:

Jean Grae to trassy
show details 6:03 PM (1 hour ago)
Dear "Thanks" (as you didn't include your name)

I'm really disappointed that you would take the time to write this very elaborate and detailed message, only to give me a fax number to contact you. My room mate aka the ITEM in question is actually crying right now. Mostly from the daily scheduled beating, but after calling the fake number, she became increasingly upset. I've had to restrain her and let me tell you, this is no easy job.
Now you've upset all of us.. And by ALL I mean, myself, the ITEM, and the ITEMS parents. I had to call them over to calm her down. She usually responds well to being berated and called "stupid stupid stupid face".
Again, this has really taken a lot out of my day and time.
If you didn't want to purchase my room mate, you shouldn't have contacted me.

You have failed as a human being.

"NO THANKS"

I'll post more soon.. we really need to get her sold though..

Dopplegangers .. another blog repost. I'm lazy.

2009-08-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

DOPPELGANGERS!!!!!!!!!!
Current mood: scared
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
OK, I know I drink.
I know I have been a lot of places.
I know quite a few people.
Some of these combined events and people I do not remember.
So, this being said...

There are times when I see a picture with myself in it and do not remember the circumstances surrounding the capturing of the visual.

It happens.

Usually I can look at my clothes and the surroundings and go, "Ohhhh! I remember that!"

Well, like 9 out of 10 times.

This one stumped me.

I don't remember owning the shirt and jacket.

Its a black leather jacket(quite like the one that I own)only it has no collar.

It's a shirt I would wear....but I don't think I have that shirt.

And damnit, in my defense, I know Psalm One.

We have DEFINITELY taken a flick or 2 together.

Yup..

But something didnt seem right..

My fingers look different.

I think..

I had to do some further research.

This is NOT myself and Psalm One.

So, Hello Black Rock and Lo Lo!

You are officially our doppelgangers... At least in this picture.

Or, we are yours...if you're older.

or.. its us.. and we black out and become other personalities.
or..they do.

This is very very Tyler..

You be the judges.
doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo ...*creepy twilight zone music*

Henchmen

2009-08-06T13:48:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 07, 2006

Supervillain Flunky Applications
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Ok.. So I was watching The Incredibles this morning and I really started to wonder...
First off.... let me just say that I should have been thinking of this before, with another movie, or comic book, I don't know why it struck me just now.

Alright, so... if you notice, as a general rule of thumb, superheroes, or the "good guys" tend to mostly be loners... Not have flunkies, lackies or workers. Perhaps sometimes they have super "friends", or belong to a super "gang", or you know have a headquarters where they meet at...or they're the rebel force.. But mostly, I would say that they kinda do shit by themselves, don't hire people to guard them, very self-sufficient.

This leads me to believe many things.. think many things.

..1. Umm, how, I mean HOW are these people APPLYING for guard/flunky duty? Let's be realistic. There's no classified ads, people can't really refer others, because then, then Supervillains would be like "No, hell no! I'm not hiring your peoples! I don't know if they're out to get me or if they are dreaming of being supervillains, or they're really unknown superheroes out to get me!"
I mean, if you were a supervillain, would YOU hire random fucking people who only had their references to back up their job experience? You don't know who these people are!!
So, is it word of mouth? Do people recruit?

..2. What is the incentive or motivation to apply for this type of work. My friends are suggesting its sort of an army mentality. But then I said that well, these people are NOT going to college or any type of schooling, because they have to work 24 hours a day and have their lives dedicated to EVIL. So they don't need money for school, obviously. Is it like going to De Vry as my friends suggested? Katherine Gibb? Like a trade school? But then WHY do supervillain guard when you would rather have a choice of being alive and making the same sort of progress in life. Also, the supervillain wouldn't pass his job down to YOU.. He doesn't want YOU. If anything, he's trying to have a son.. or daughter... or steal the superheroes son/daughter and make THEM evil to pass on the tradition. Duh, we all know that.

3... Does it have dental/ medical benefits? I tend to not think so. Also, the perks aren't great. NO you don't ride with the supervillain in his jet as my friends suggested. The Villain rides by himself in the cushy part, the flunkies always jump out of like, the cargo area. When would these people have time to enjoy the perks? There's never really a day off. Otherwise the superheroes would notice and attack on that day. It would be so easy.

4... The living quarters have GOT to SUCK. I imagine a bunk bed sort of thing happening. Very dark colors, shared bathrooms. All in all, suck ass amenities. Do they have families? I bet they don't have cell phones.. or regular phones in their room. And if they did, I bet the supervillain wouldnt pay for it... or would totally monitor they're phone calls. So, yeah that sucks right there.

5... Do you have a family outside of this? Maybe they're such family loving providers that they aren't talented in any other ways and have decided to give away their freedom for the sake of their loved ones being taken care of.
But let's be real.. if they are sooo good at being guards/fighting/engineering/science...FUCK! Build YOUR evil empire already... why go work for someone in a job you can't advance in? This is kind of an extension of ..2.

6... uh.. wait I've been drinking and people are talking to me... hold on.

7... if you are in a job where someone is going to kill you if you don't live up to their expectations...with NO REMORSE?!?!?! WTF???!??!?

I think that might be it for now.. I'm getting back to the album now. Ok, I think of these things alot.. OHH WAIT!

ONLY 1 TIME THIS IS ACCEPTABLE AND UNDERSTANDABLE ...storm troopers.

or... an army of evil dead. Though they don't usually have a leader or anything.. ok..

discuss.

Return of The Gangster Gonzo

2009-08-04T19:02:00.000-07:00

I haven't been here in a bit, I know. I missed it too. Let's all hug and- HEY! CUT THAT OUT!
Anywillies.... I've just moved into a new place, which is kinda pretty much empty right now. This television is entirely to small for this place. It looks stupid. But hey... at least I have a tv.

So...

I was sitting here thinking about my antics and adventures of past and just sorta missing myself. I haven't been nearly as ridiculous, spontaneous or feeling capable of coming up with, let alone EXECUTING harebrained schemes like I used to.

I think I need to kick them into full gear again.

Them was fun times.

In order to inspire myself into ..err.. being myself, I've decided to share some of these stories with you.
Some are far too incriminating to, ah fuck it.. I'll work my way into those.

You should know... I'm completely insane. I think I've been insane by NOT living up to my comedic life potential. I loved it.
This is REALLY "Life With Jeannie"

I start you off with:

STRIPPER CLOWN

There is a bar I used to frequent in Brooklyn. By "frequent" I mean "live in".
I was pretty much a bar fixture at that point. I never paid for drinks, my friend had just opened a restaurant there, so I ate for free (thank GOD, cause I was dead ass broke) and I did random things that a bar worker would do. Played my ipod, helped clean things, rewrote the menu and generally just supplied crazy antics for patrons and workers alike.
I loved that bar.

I promise to tell more tales from the location.

Moving along....

One day, Steve (we'll call him Steve) was putting up flyers for a magazine party that was going to be taking place at the bar. It was a very sarcastic flyer, filled with promises of imaginary and outlandish things that would be at said party. Hipster dry humor. VERY IRONIC.

I really can't say that I remember all the other kooky things that were promised... The one that really stood out to me, was : STRIPPER CLOWN.

"Wait, wait.. Is that real? Are they gonna have a stripper...clown?"

"I don't think so Jean."

Now see, in my thinking.. the only way to make this situation work, was to supply something as ironic as, "Stripper Clown".
This destroying the irony, rendering it ineffective.

"Well, where are the gingerbread dobermans?" people would ask..
"And what of the heroin induced reindeer conga line?"
I don't recall if these things were on the list, I'm just giving you an example, so you can see where "Stripper Clown" fits in.

I went home to plan.. after telling everyone at the entire bar and all who came in, that I would indeed, come to the party as "Stripper Clown".
No one was really surprised, you have to understand the kind of fuckery I really get into. It's great.

I went home to plan.
The party may have been in a couple of days.. I think so..

OK.. So..

First off, I needed to really understand my "Stripper Clowns" motivation.
Was I initially a stripper?
Did I start off as a clown?
Why would I be at that party?
What should I DO once AT the party?

Difficult, yet important questions. I couldn't come off as a fake "Stripper Clown"... People would read me like a .. fuck... people don't read anymore.. you get what I'm saying.

Less importantly, though you would think MORE, was wardrobe.

Clear Heels .... CHECK!
Fishnet Tights...CHECK!
Striped leg warmers...CHECK!!!
Gold Lame Hotpants....CHECK!
I could be shamed at things I already owned, but I'm quite proud.. ready for ANY situation.. ANY time. I continued looking.
Big Tie....CHECK!!!
Ridiculously tight babydoll..CHECK!!!!
Purple Wig.....CHECK!!!!
*note on purple wig, I wore this out to lunch with the guy I had a crush on (who is now my boyfriend) I wore an army hat over it to "tone down" the severity of the wig.
Mans style vest.....CHECK!!!!
Tiny, teeny, tiny skirt (same level as the shorts..I'm not THAT crazy) CHHHHHHHECK!!!!!!!

Let's see.. sock.. yes..
Giant thigh high tube sock filled with sugar tied with a knot to thwart off dirty fuckers....CHEEEEEYEECK!!

Well, the night I was prepping to go to the party, I felt great.
I had decided on my motivation.
I was a stripper.... business had been rough. I had started doing children's parties in hopes of making a second income.
Problem was, my stripping set was in the day time, children's parties were in the daytime... so I had to make a collaborative costume.
No, I didn't have a car to change in, I took the bus..
No, there was no dressing room at the strip club, the back of the club had burnt down in a crazy bonding glue and Alizé fire.
No, I couldn't get changed at the houses of the children's parties. I had tried that before and gotten arrested for prostitution at the bus stop. Without the clown make-up, it's really not a good look..

I drew on the red nose, painted the sad clown mouth and eyes, painted : "$20 Lapdances" on my cheek, threw on a long black coat and I was ready to go.

My friend picked me up (afore friend mentioned..lets call him "the guy")... apparently he told me later that I looked HOT...not later that night, lol.. like WAY later.

As soon as we got out of that car, motherfucker.. It started to snow. Oh no.. Fucking clear heels..
But, it was hilarious. I explained my plight to many, "combinin' these two muthafuckin' jobs sheeeeet" and they listened..
They took pictures.. they were happy. I had a blast.

We stayed at my other friends house that night and by morning, there was about 2 feet of snow on the ground.
"The guy" left, to go to a family Christmas party.

It took about 5 minutes after he left to realize... "Holy shit.. How the fuck am I going to get home in this?"
My homegirls house we were at didn't provide a lot for me. Sadly, my feet are waaay smaller...shit.. my whole body was too small for her clothes. Plus, she had to go back to work to prep the kitchen. (the bar).
I was too broke to take a cab home. I texted "the guy". He asked if I wanted to come to his mom's house for the party.

"Uhmmm... You.. you know what I'm wearing..right?? You DO remember... I don't think that's a good idea."

I decided to just say fuck it and go back to the bar in the same outfit, until he would be done with his family function and be able to take me home.

That night in the bar, I ended up hosting karaoke that was sung LOUDLY over another party going on in the back of the bar. Everyone was AMAZING... I was still in the outfit.. I just had to own it...

Kweli came through....just in case you want to verify this story.

When "the guy" arrived, we all ended up going to Kwe's house for more drinks. I had to be carried to and from the car because of the snow. NO way you can get through blizzard snow in BK with clear heels on.

But I still.. had a GREAT time... I got home.... and laid "Stripper Clown" to rest.

Long live the legend... of "Stripper Clown"

That's the only picture I have from the whole damn event.. I hate that I don't have a view of the whole outfit. sigh..
He kept that sock filled with sugar in the front of the car for months..

Welcome to the REAL LIFE WITH JEANNIE... and.. you're welcome

I'm blaming this on Derrin

2009-05-12T23:02:00.000-07:00

Who was all.. "you should go in imovie and do this"...
Damnit.

Not to be outdone by ANYTHING, Jean Grae posts pics.

2009-05-09T12:42:00.000-07:00

My doctors computer was hacked. When will it end???

Treats For Tweets Tuesdays #3(the late edition)

2009-04-21T18:01:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of making this musicians acquaintance about 2 years ago.
ALSO....It's the first person EVER, that I stepped away from my kitchen for and wasn't worried about them cooking.

Aside from being a truly incredible performer and entertainer, he is one of my favorite people in the entire universe.

Kwame-Brandt Pierce.... 3BeanStew

3BeanStew myspace

check out the 3Bean Children's Theater page as well.
Stories that nurture imagination.
If any of you have children, or shoot.. just have a great imagination please check it out.

p.s. this is my favorite album that people didn't know about of 2008. Fucking SICK.

There is beautiful music being made.. just keep your ears open

Creativity is alive and thriving.. help us to keep it that way.

Dear Activia,

2009-04-06T10:16:00.000-07:00

WTF?!?!?!?!

Just .. look man...I know what you're for. I get it. I do. That being said......

You can't have NO timetable on WHEN you're going to up and work like that. That's crazy.
2 weeks is fucking grossly (no pun intended)inaccurate. This is nutty(pun intended).

I had things to do and you just completely ignore the fact that people have LIVES and JOBS and PLANS. You are dumb. You are a dumb little yogurt with no couth.

Here are 2 other DUMB things I have had the displeasure of seeing advertised.

Yeeeah. What I REALLY dig about the cats who came up with this revolutionary idea, is the clever name they chose. "Shoes Under".

Word? Are we at this point now? Shoes fucking UNDER? I'm going to stop pressing buttons on my technology rectangle here. I want to curse them out with my face hole word former. Later I'm ..oh fuck it.. OOGA BOOGADY BOO.

IDIOT WITHOUT ROPE AKA CARDIO JUMP
I hope you clicked on that.
Now you're in on the laziest, active shit I've ever seen in my life.
Ok.... I can understand....maybe there ISN'T room to jump rope. Cool...

But... umm. couldn't you just..sigh.. just DO THE SAME THING WITHOUT THIS PRODUCT IN YOUR HANDS???

Are we soooo over COUNTING now? Good lord.
This shit is....ugh. I weep for the future. We're not going to know how to do anything organically for ourselves.

This Activia needs to stand down. STAND DOWN I SAY!

STICK UP DANCE VIDEO EXCLUSIVE

2009-04-01T19:11:00.000-07:00

From my upcoming "Cake or Death" LP. I'm real damn excited about this.

It's called "Stick Up Dance"
It's produced by Nottz... oh yeah.. GO AHEAD!!!!

BLACKSMITH!!!!!

Treats For Tweets Tuesday #2

2009-03-31T19:28:00.000-07:00

Ganessa James

Anyone who is ever at any show Ganessa is a part of will always inevitably turn around to you, or lean to the person next to them, whispering,
"I LOVE HER.. SHE IS AMAZING"

Agreed..

Ganessa James.

Ganessa James myspace

Enjoy.

Treats for Tweets Tuesday

2009-03-24T15:44:00.000-07:00

TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEATS!!!!!

I'm gonna do this every Tuesday..
Someone/a group/a movement you don't know about.. and should

Here's what's new and GOOD and actual live played music by musicians.
(in my personal opinion, a guy with a GUY voice.. I think we haven't had a great one in a long time. Baritone with range.. laaaadies.. fucking YEAH!)

Here's Derrin Maxwell.. Brooklyn.. one of your own.
myspace HERE
Derrin Maxwell
Follow him here Derrin's Twitter

"Drink O' Water" is the first single...

You know, people still go out and play music..with bands.. he does.
If you're in NY tomorrow night, come out and enjoy.
Also.. I'll be playing music to get you in the mood before the show.

IT'S FREE. you gotta love that.. donate if you wish when the hat comes around.

SHOOOOOOOOOES

2009-03-24T13:33:00.000-07:00

Shoes.. Shoes.. oh my..my shoes..
Shoes my muse
Shoes to peruse
Shoes in which to shmooze and booze
Shoes to cruise, amuse, confuse.
I wrote haikus about my shoes.
But this doesn't count, as it doesn't have the 5 7 5 haiku structure.
It's just an ode.

end scene

Since I was a little'un, I have been OBSESSED with shoes.
Thankfully, my mom was of the Thrift Store mind, so I was trained in the good art of designer searching. If it wasn't a designer, it was a pair of off the wall, amazing, "I KNOW I will never see anyone in these EVER again" shoes.
I love clothes, but shoes always sparked a delicious, warm, fuzzy feeling.
Colors, heel heights, heel width, round toes, square toes, pointed toes, jeans to shoe ratios, designs, patterns, textures, fabrics.. aggghh.. oh.. they get me HOT.

I went into a huge sneaker phase. When touring... I love stilettos OFFSTAGE.. but I'm not about to take an L onstage due to them.. EVER.
Plus it would be tour with say.. The Roots.. sneaker whores. I know they're gonna have some off the wall, only made 1 pair of these ever in existence, made by nike elves in a remote part of Serbia, in underground labs, shoes.
I held my own nicely. I figured there were shoes I could get that they couldn't because I could fit men's 6's. Or girls shoes.

I then proceeded to go apeshit for sneakers.
I'm a dunks girl, but I liked SB's too. I went beserk for everything limited.. every brand.. I searched out all the kick stores in all the countries.. lived on websites.. got them delivered 10 pairs at a time.
I had a giant shoe closet. It was scary.

In the midst of all this I had picked my favorite brand otherwise.. Gucci..
But I did NOT abandon others.
I remember being in Chicago and these boots had just come out.
Kwe was there.. we went to Sak's.... I had a shoe injury an hour later.
They had a godamn sale rack that was AMAZING. Chanel, Prada, Zanotti, Choo...
I got a hip injury but got out with a pair of Guccis.

I sought out the stores in town that would carry good shit.
I brought empty extra suitcases to hold them.
I went to Vegas just to get a pair of gold and mesh Jimmy Choo's once. They were sick.

Sigh.
I lost my shoes when I lost an apartment.. One day I'll have enough to get them back.. and more.
I miss shoes. I loved you all and will never forget you. Anyone who knows me well knows what it WAS.
Fucking recession.

Shoooooooooes.. *cries out like "Aaaaaadriiiiiannnn"*

*btw .. pictured, is the LV "Spicy".. sigh

SLEEP is neccessary.

2009-03-18T01:11:00.000-07:00

Derrin .. God bless you for making me go to sleep.
I was really going to try and ruin my life, probably fainting in the process.. had I not today. I missed an interview with Mecca at The Source, which was the second time I missed that interview in the past 2 weeks..
It's just been soooo much lately.

I should not have gone like that off of caffeine and sheer willpower. NO. Just no.
To top it off, when I got out of The Morning Show with Angela Yee today, walking out into the St Patty's world of drunkeness at noon was a lot to handle.

Got on the train to get out of the area.. got out to get food and get in a cab once further downtown.
I actually contemplated taking the train all the way, but I would have for sure passed the fuck out.

Derrin, upon seeing me look CRAZY, said "GO TO SLEEP". I was trying to make that interview.. but I couldn't even form sentences at that point.

I feel better now.. Not trying to go for the world record.. Will sleep soon.
Had fun at Sweet Cheebas spring launch (START THE MOTHERFUCKING GIRLS LINE ALREADY YOU BASTARD!) and then at Sutra with Talib and people.
Macy Gray played Macy Gray's favorite songs. It was awesome..

OK.. I'm out for today on this..
I never really liked Elmo.. I'm all classic Sesame Street, son.
I have an autograph from dude who was Mr. Hooper. Yeah.. Mr. Hooper's store.. on Mufucking Sesame Street yo.
But.. he made me like him after I saw this.. like.. for REAL..
Plus.. Elmo's voice/everything actor is a black man. AWESOME

classic moments: "How did you lose this interview? get it back..get it back!"

and

"Elmo wants this tape"

and

"It's called ACTING..Mr.. Gervais"

LMAO!

See y'all tomorrow.. be good..

P.S. Ricky Gervais.. Jeeeesus ... the notorious just...lololol.. that dude is amazing..

Disney Eggs. Yes, DISNEY EGGS.

2009-03-15T01:08:00.000-07:00

This is. Ok, just watch.

Jetpacks For Sale. FUCKING YESSSSSSSS!!!!!

2009-03-14T11:46:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah. It's the future. Now, I want my damn flying/self driving car, pill food and pet cyborg. Wait. Maybe not the pet cyborg. I'll probably get the one who develops emotions against all explainable odds and then gets hunted down...that, or kills all the humans.

Motherfucking Jetpacks For Motherfucking Sale

Top 5 Things For Evil Masterminds To Avoid Doing When Trying To Kill/Capture Heroes

2009-03-13T04:21:00.000-07:00

This is NOT to be mistaken for a list of things that Evil Masterminds should not do in GENERAL, when trying to kill/capture lesser characters attempts at thwarting their evil-doings.
There must always be examples made of those who have failed to suceed and died horribly.

The dusty skeletons hands, vice gripping the last clue...
The MANY strewn skeletons about the room/in the water.
The desperate scribbles left about by those who came before and failed.

This isn't like in Austin Powers, where Scott gives a great explanation of the overly drawn out ending and why it's stupid.

No. This is specifically what NOT to do, when you know that the so called "chosen one", "prophecied one"...blibiddy blah, is coming to get your evil ass. You can't just make them go through the same run of the mill bullshit.
Obama is president.
We all have to do better.
Especially if they are of the "I'm not the hero! I'm too cynical!"

They will wreck fucking shop on all your stupid booby traps and riddles.

1. No rooms that fill up with water. Slowly or otherwise. The hero ALWAYS gets the fuck out of there. Whether prying it open, or saving their breath to look underwater for the secret release latch. Even though they may almost lose their last breath when being frightened by the floaty dead failures....they fucking get out. EVERY TIME.
*also counts for rooms that close in on you slowly.

2. No overly elaborate challenges that involve music/puzzles/or getting across ridiculous heights. Ladder, stumps, spiky wood, rope bridge or otherwise.
This goes triple for spaces where the hero can try to judge the seemingly bottomless pit by dropping an object down, or yelling to hear his/her echo.
Remember, they think they are not capable of defeating you... but somehow every challenge applies to their life, or a sidekicks hobby.
Don't waste your time coming up with all that nonsense.

3. Do not take any of their loved ones hostage. It only makes them believe in themselves.. or recognize the "power" within them. Then, they're MORE than angry right before they kill you.
The only advantage to this, on some occassions, is that the loved one may stop them and say that you "aren't worth it".

They will of course agree.
This COULD get you out of the death scene and into a maximum security jail for crazies..

ADVANTAGE: This situation DOES give you the opportunity to plan an escape and then try to kill them again.
*You must be a raving psychopath to pull this off.

4. Do not involve something that they can defuse from detonation. Time will slow down at 30 seconds, giving them 5 minutes to figure it out. They will either defuse it at 1 sec, 3 secs or find a way to get the explosive in your vicinity, thus killing you.

5. Make sure all your final exit doors do not close very, very, slowly. They can slide through them. They sometimes reach back for shit, like a hat, just to piss you off.
There is never a door that they will not limbo under, slip through, or give you the finger from.
It's fucking rude and it will make you feel shitty.
Fast closing doors are best.

Hope this helps.
Good luck taking over the universe, earth, enslaving all mankind, or destroying and then repopulating the world with your clones!

Jesus & Dinosaurs

2009-03-13T04:03:00.000-07:00

Simply.....

Umm.. how?

Ok.. So there were dinos-- ok wait.

Ok.. So there was Jes-- ok...wait .. that ..

..but if there's dino-- and Jesus and peopl---.. ok .. hold on.

Grrrrr.

That's all..

Work and work.

2009-03-12T07:54:00.001-07:00

Falling behind ridiculously in sending out all the non paid features and cameos that I have to do.
It's hard times for everyone right now, so the ones that take precendence are always the ones that pay money.
Bills, mortgage and just everyday things that need to stay in your house..like TP(lol), FOOD and such, take a front step on everything....

We all gotta work hard to keep the lights on, no matter what job it is you do, so everyone, keep your head up.. work extra hard... don't fall down right now, it can be real easy to do so.

Trying my damndest to keep it lighthearted and still hardworking and truthful.

Everyone have a great day and find the moments in it where you can be thankful of everyone and everything around you that doesn't suck big time.

Good luck for today you guys.. spread some good luck back to me.

I feel like Diddy's twitter right now with mantras and all..

Although if I had some Ciroc, this might feel better.. lol.

ok. WORK! LET'S GO!!! (see?)

Oh No.

2009-03-12T01:39:00.001-07:00

Yeah.. good luck stopping fucking with this.

LINK: http://www.najle.com/idaft/

Motherfucking BRAIN FREEZE

2009-03-10T12:58:00.000-07:00

Hit me last night on Green Lanterns show.

I was all like "Oh ok.. if I have to rap .. maaaan I know this shit.."
Then I couldn't get the words to get the fuck out of my larynx.

My brain started to shut down.... there was an excess of spit in my mouth, when I realized that no matter what I did, these words wanted to stay the fuck INSIDE of me.
I was going to tell them, No.. See, this is your job, words. You have to come out and say hello to everybody.. But they said "Piss off Jean.. we are sleeping.. find other words".
So I just gave up.. and ended up doing some weird garbledy gook freestyle... all the while laughing in my head like, wtf am I .. whaaaat?
LMAO.
What makes it funny is that I asked for the vodka.. So it looked like the 2 sips of vodka I had made me completely inebriated.
Now you know.. no no.. wasn't the vodka.
It was my brain that just .. just said NOoooooooOOOo..

Thanks to Green Lantern and fam for having us up there.

Also, for squashing my Elliot Wilson hatred.. Even though he did say that he said something else about my retirement. I didn't read it. I think I saw something posted somewhere and I ignored it...
I like Elliot.. but Elliot, I'ma kill you if you say anything else about me..

lol.

OK.. today: 4 songs to get out.. to the studio with Patty and Wale...Write another song for Cake or Death...Tony Touch at Sirius...Reflection Eternal at Blue Note.. back home for more songs.

Fuck Brain Freeze.

Thank you for the "eggz" shaky Tek! I'm gonna play along in the audience!

The Death Of Imagination

2009-03-08T21:50:00.000-07:00

Was having a really tough time, getting cabin fever..
Not knowing HOW to even go outside and do anything, partially from the guilt of not being "productive" in some way by doing so...partially from not having anything to do in the area that was an independent trip.
One with just walking, or traveling without spending a whole bunch of money on the commute.

So I got kidnapped. He tricked me when I said I wanted to walk for a sandwich. Good trick . Spent a great day having a great drive and being OUTSIDE. I was losing it.
We tried to see Watchmen in 2 separate theaters, both sold out. I haven't ever been to an IMAX movie, I think it would've been wrong to not see Watchmen in Imax.. from what I heard of the "ooooh Imax" experience.

Ended up coming back to the Court St theater to see Coraline.
Really happy we did. Thoroughly enjoyed it.. I have missed some escapism in my visuals.

I always check the apple trailers regularly to see what's coming out.. and though the trailer for "9" came out before the trailer for 'Coraline", I was excited about both for quite awhile.

It was really good to see the colors, the story, the beauty of something original and fresh and new.. with a lot of really surprising visual turns. It was gorgeous. It helped my mind a ton.

Except for the idiot who was having the chair battle with me. I was making threats by the end. Or the idiots in the back row explaining the obviously "that was JUST explained in the scene you just saw" parts of the trailers. You don't have to explain anything from the "Confessions of a Shopaholic" trailer.
"Oh.. she didn't speak that language"
"yeah she didn't understood him"
"yeah she didn't"
"that's why she pretended to get mad"

piss off.

I have terrible aim and throw like a blind amputee.. so that was out of the question.
Instead we just made snarky remarks on the way home. Score!

Anywhoo's. It was a kick ass movie.. I've missed ones like it.
I do have a good new sense of concepts and arrangements now.

Sometimes we just all need to be reminded that the possibilities are endless.

P.S. The image included above is from a great line of T Shirts.. Threadless. They make really cool shit. I dig them a bunch. They are the beezneez.
Check em out.

http://www.threadless.com/

It's that time again.

2009-03-08T01:08:00.000-08:00

Yuppo. Time to hand the album in..
The listening again and again of songs..thinking of the sequencing, the artwork, the general cohesive idea of it all.
This one is special, or a lot of reasons. It took YEARS to finally get the right concept down, for it to make sense. Not just random songs scattered about, but a collective thought. When I did, it was all obvious and a "DUH" moment.
Many more things than that as well.

Man, I've been writing so much that when I close my eyes I see words, words, WORDS. Like a word jumble game. Trying to pick out new things in all directions that I either haven't used, used in that context, or in that flow, style.
Challenging myself.
Above all else, I'm tough on myself like that. I record whole songs that no one ever gets to hear. They get trashed. Just not up to par with what I want to do.
I don't think I'm a perfectionist, but when it's perfect for ME and the way I can hear it in my head.. then YAY!

I see the colored audio protools bars overlapping the word jumble. I can't stop thinking.. just THINKING about everything that goes with it.. Video ideas, marketing ideas.. of course keeping it all as close to free as I can get.
But I am excited.

Cake or Death ...or bust!
heh.

I wanted to get steady on the blogging bit for everyone again. I think it's a cool way to stay in touch. Word up. OH NO! DON'T SAY "WORD" JEAN!! AAAAAAGGGGGH!

Check y'all later. I'm back to thinking and planning and of course ACTIVELY err...activating...these ideas.
It's no fun if they don't materialize.
You have NO idea how MANY IDEAS I have a day. I'll never get them all done. I can try really really ridiculously hard though. If I don't sleep. Like... right now.

I'm gonna go jot down some video treatments.
Stupid brain. Stupid.

forgot..check Donna.

2008-10-16T10:07:00.000-07:00

http://squiddydutchess.blogspot.com/

Let the games begin

2008-10-16T10:04:00.000-07:00

Alright. I know I'm in now.
The pooping has begun and it's not cute.
No.. it's not.

I thought about all the fun things I was gonna have to eat today when I woke up.
Then I was alerted by my body that no, in fact, fuck my nice plans.

Me and the bathroom are gonna be real homies today.
Check in with you later.
This is gross.

Day 2 Part 3 (part 2 was invisible)

2008-10-15T20:51:00.000-07:00

Yeah.. that's right.
I blogged it.. but my powers of procrastination made it invisible to you.
Aww yeah.

Man, what is it that makes us delay starting something that's inevitably good for us in one way or another...but bad habits are so damn easy to get done.

Got the lemons.. other stuff I been had..

Then, I woke up completely undetermined to NOT go in on this shit.

I used to be disciplined at starting something, having that intention and GETTING IT DONE

I suppose it's just getting used to dissapointment in areas of your life and having a "well fuck it, it won't make a difference anyways".
But that's a horrible attitude, not to mention it's not me...at all.

So here I am starting at 11:52 pm with the actual cleanse.

Oh... funny shit.. I tried to link Donnas page on Facebook.. apparently she is deemed "offensive"

LOL.. What did you do??
I would really like you all to read both of our grown asses trying to do something beneficial for both ourselves and comedy, heh..
I should link it here.
Ok.. going in on it .. let the games begin..
stupid lemons. stupid.

Oh.. and as I do "rockstar" master cleanse... don't look for me to let go of the booze quite so easily.. Like I said.. don't judge, people.

P.S.
in the supermarket today I saw 99c BUTTERSCOTH candy.
I didn't type it wrong. BUTTERSHOTH
no "C".
Mad bags of candy went to production that way. No one said a damn thing. Are we THAT far gone people?
I wish I still had that picture of "DUCK TAPE".. sigh.. this cayenne is burning my lips..

Master Cleanse Day 1 Part 1

2008-10-14T12:57:00.000-07:00

I am stalling.

Really stalling.

I had scrambled eggs and pumpernickel toast this morning.
I really wanted some.
I decided that I should go out with my craving, on a bang.

I promised Donna I would do this, so I think part of the discipline to go through with it comes from making a promise to someone else and not breaking it.
That and how hilarious this is going to be.

In about an hour or so I'm going to go get the damn lemons and maple syrup.

I'm currently drinking Maker's Mark and a Becks.

That, is NOT part of the Master Cleanse.

This will be my second time going in on this.
The last was a couple of summers ago.

By week two, I had resorted to food tastings.
Chew, spit it out.
Look man.. don't judge.

You also start to go a little nutty in the second week.
Forgetfulness sets in, you get weak.
Someone gave me a pound and I almost fell over.
I looked like I was doing the heroin lean.

But yeah.. this is Day One PART 1

Part 2 will come this evening when I ACTUALLY begin.
This is my prep.
Now I've .. wait..

I had to turn around to hear this breaking news,

"There's a shark that was born to a virgin shark."
ME: "What? How do they know the shark is a virgin???"

I think that shark is a slutty liar.
Slutty shark.

Back to this.. Part 2 soon come. seen??????