I thought he was a man, but he was just a little boy

The power that men THINK they have over women, and DO have over some women really disgusts me.

I had met a fireman at B&N not so long ago, and he left me his number in a very cute and shy way. I was extremely excited about it because he seemed to be attractive and sweet at the same time.

SEEMED.

Steve The Fireman turned out to be the most disrespectful man I've ever considered dating.

Not to mention that he gave me a blank stare when I recommended Jhumpa Lahiri's latest book to him, and then proceeded to ask what I thought about Mitch Albom.

I bet Mitch Albom is the only shitty author you know, jackass



Over the past few weeks he's been texting me and each time I become more convinced that he really is the dog some people stereotype firemen to be.
One day he sent me a tacky, almost-naked photo of himself to show me how he looked with his shirt off. And yes, he looked great, but show some modesty please! It's like he was showing me how hot he was and then I wouldn't be able to resist him. Clearly, he didn't know who he was dealing with.
*THEN* he asked me to send him one! Of course I absolutely did nothing of the sort.

The texts (not even a phone call) have been on and off, but I still refuse to go out with him. Last Sunday he came into the bookstore and I completely ignored him after I blatantly looked at his text that read "Hi 2 u too".

Way to be illiterate.

I thought that convinced him I wasn't interested because his texts stopped for about a week, until Tuesday, Election night--

He wanted to see what I was up to, and to inform me that my "boy" Obama was going to beat his choice, McCain.
Previously when I had asked him why he was voting for McCain, he had no real reason and stated that he agreed with most of Obama's ideas, but he just wasn't voting for him.

Oh, so you're a racist fuck; cool.

Earlier this morning he texted me yet again with nothing interesting to say, except he was particularly offensive this time. I'm almost embarrassed to look through my texts and type it up, but, here it goes...

Him: Sorry bout the other day my phone was acting up. How are u

Me: No problem, maybe you need a new phone? I'm good though, cutting my morning classes today to get some rest. what are you up to?

Him: I'm gonna hit the gym and then study. What gym do u go to

Me: Lucille Roberts on Bell. I actually don't like it that much, it's too crowded now. I wanna look for a better one when my contract ends. Where do you go?

Him: LAfitness. Best gym in ny. Lakeville rd union tpke. U should come check it out today.

Me: Oh, I know it, near Lake Success...it's too far for me to travel from school next semester though. I might be transferring to Hunter.

Him: Oh ok well they give a free month u should check it out I'd like to watch u workout.

Me: Wow, way to be overly aggressive.

Him: Thats nothing. Maybe I am too old (He's 28).

Me: If you think so then you probably are

Him: U can be my pal and I can watch you work out

Me: Not gonna happen. You should watch one of the girls that are already there

That was it; The creep's number has been deleted, along with his texts--including the one about me looking like Sarah Palin (I know, gross). His horrible grammatical errors and guido-esque language made me feel like a velour-suited, Ugg-wearing guidette anyways.

I'm not a prude;
Acting like I'm the latest exhibit at the Bronx Zoo isn't going to get me wet. It's going to get me pissed and I will permanently revoke your temporary visitor's pass.

The Dirtbombs @ Southpaw

The Dirtbombs are playing this Thursday at Southpaw in Brooklyn and I am super STOKED. They're an amazing band with a garage, punk, and soul all into one kinda sound, so David and I are going to check 'em out and (probably) have a life-changing experience. I attempted to go to a few of their shows this summer, but my soul-crushing retail job gets in the way of everything fun. They're so fucking good...I just can't wait!!!!

And there will definitely be a picture blog to follow!


The band:
THE DIRTBOMBS


The venue:
SOUTHPAW

**Highly recommended!

I'm am SO tempted

To purchase this t-shirt.

You can too! HERE: Print Liberation

Faded Things: A Cento

The pay phone on the corner might ring
Something in the air wanting desperately to draw attention to itself only to assuage awkwardness

At the moment all the uppermost windows might open and let go a sky full of confetti
and banners
but the eerie sheen someone alone leaning over the aft rail mulling over his love life
might notice
Nobody will ever know why she chose the high floor she did to look down on the
cemetery
She could have stayed at street level and focused on the conspiracy of the buildings to
keep out sky

There is a kind of non threatening bewilderment that ambushes you a few days later

as you sit
The days of mutual admiration come and go

Punch lines and promises long since torn from their moorings bobbing in the slatch of the
mind
Heredity of cruelty everywhere
Now think of this day. One you will probably forget.

The feel of gravitational pull against eyelids is just Monday

At 9 I am a dandelion
Blooming swollen eyes
Legs that will sway
And bend in robust winds
But never snap



My brain stings and my puff pastry eyes are pumping blood through coral-red veins, fighting to keep the numb peepers open.

I spent a very small portion of my weekend sleeping, and I didn't even do anything badass. Being exhausted and going to school from 8am-5pm is really a drag, and even worse on an empty stomach.

I'm feeling like the victim of a major head trauma accident. My brain feels swollen and I should really be reading textbook pages and then sleeping.

I decided to clean out the basement instead.

It's amazing how much stuff my grandma has kept over the years and she finally gave me the okay to move some stuff out and take some old bookshelves into my room. She keeps EVERYTHING. I plan on painting the shelves red, to contrast with my mustard walls. Right now they're tan and look weird, like furniture sprawled out on a lawn during a yard sale; out of place.
The books I have piled in size-order on every available surface will soon have a home. Maybe once my room's organized, my brain will be too and then I'll get some sleep.

Hold the onions and the pickles...and okay, the tomatoes too

Sometimes I think that I'm the pickiest person ever and then I think "Oh nah, I'm just selective" and completely disregard the thought.
Recently I've acknowledged it again.

I've tried dating different types of guys and maybe just once I liked the guy straight off the bat. It takes me a while to get over the visual flaws and let my attraction to his personality take over. Now of course that last sentence sounds vain, but I don't intend it to, it's the way I am and I wish it weren't.
On the other hand dating guys I find more attractive than I am give me low self-esteem.
There's really no in between for me.

The reason I've been dwelling on this lately is because my mom decided to try hooking me up with this Greek kid her co-worker knows (it was the woman's suggestion). The thought of blind dating is a giant mind groan to me, but I've never dated anyone Greek before and am quite curious. I'm almost embarrassed to say that I'm too lazy to start something new. The whole "getting to know you" thing is exhausting and when it doesn't work out, discouraging. We've been chatting on Facebook since yesterday and...he has nice grammar?
It's just too soon to tell.

Dough-Dough

What flavor is revenge, if so sweet?
Desiring the experience of another’s taste
Expecting foreign flavor


What you long to savor has
Caved insides;
Cooked to the wrong degree
The surrounding shell deceived
Familiar,
It’s been tasted before


Still left with the bitter rabid foam
Of hate,
Infatuation
And there is no palette cleanser

Life Update: Little kids LOVE Teddy-D

Originally uploaded by theadorable

I only like attractive children that laugh at my jokes, and these little twin girls Lea and Dina...Oh how they laughed at my jokes!


I kept telling Lea to make the kissy face, but she whined "I don't know howwww!"


I know, we were very unattractive doing the pouty face...



I think we shop at the same store!

J'ai Rêvé Que Tu Viendrais (I Dreamed That You Would Come)

A circus act,
balancing between fingers
Taken in
as an acquired taste, released
Freud’s “oral fixation”
calming nerves.

your
remnants

falling

cooling

like the magma after a volcanic eruption
carrion,
passed around unknowingly by
soles, tips, heels
disintegrating, disappearing
like the blown-off wish of a dandelion clock
leaving behind only the taste transferred to my mouth
A
social evolution
Experiencing my compulsion for him
through his for you.

Please Don't Blame Her; Life Turned Her That Way

This NY summer humidity is my hair's worst nightmare.
This season, in general, is not a season I ever look forward to. The days and nights move equally; sluggishly.

I don't like to move. I don't move. Lots of times I decide to "mole it" and stay indoors, leaving me with way too much time for contemplation, leading to realizations I didn't intend to come up with at the beginning of the day. Realizations turn to irrational feelings and suddenly I'm declining everyone's phone calls and sad soul music is my best friend.
I tend to go into mole-mode more often than I'd like to admit. It's a known but never spoken about understanding between my friends and I.
They call-
I stare at the phone-
I don't answer it-
I might answer it later if they call again, depending on my mood and then make up some shit that they know I wasn't really doing at the time of their call.

I'm the kind of person I dislike the most; the kind that takes out internal frustration on others by being flakey and neglectful.
I swear, I'm working on it though.
Until then it's just me drying my eyes in front of my giant floor fan, listening to my sweet soul music...The only thing that could feel it just the same way.

T or F: I have a severe night club phobia (oldie but a goodie)...

TRUE.

Ever since I stepped foot into my first club at the age of fourteen (It was one of those skating rink-turned dance club at night-your friend’s dad is waiting outside in his minivan the whole time kinda places.), I’ve never wanted to go clubbing again.

Oh, it happened though.

I have never had a good club experience, nor will I ever attempt to. I really hate them. It won’t ever change.

Here are some reasons:
(Feel free to disagree. I don’t mind and won’t be offended)

I consider them to be meat markets and I’ve never wanted to date someone who goes out clubbing, therefore, no dudes for me there.

All I think of are dirty Guidos with obscene blow-outs, with obscenely tan girlfriends, making obscene limb movements.

I don’t consider techno actual music. Have you ever listened to the "songs" without any words? It’s just the same horrible robotic beat over and over.

I’m sometimes forced to go because my friends make me feel guilty. Force=dread.

Clubs are humid holes and my hair always gets big. No matter what I do with it. BIG.

My rave techniques are out of date.

All the girls wear skimpy clothing and hooker heels/boots. I have a little chub on me and refuse to wear anything that reveals my ass cheeks or belly. I can’t wear 5-inch heels, cause I’m already taller than most females out there. Why should I? So Anthony Scarparello Jr. can grind on and bone me? No thanks.

I was licked and literally drooled on once.

Therefore, I always feel violated, fat (like I’m wearing a moo-moo, compared to all the other girls) and dirty by the time I’m done.

Exception:

If I am drunk, and I mean wasted, I might kind of have a good time.
For example: I was so drunk once, I actually decided to "grind" dance with this really tall guy. Oh, and I felt a lot of penis. Yeah, I typed penis. Why type "junk" when I can type "penis"?
Suddenly his hands are squeezing my crotch and I promptly screamed "GET HIS HANDS OFF MY VAGINAAAAA!!" over and over until Jordan probably covered my mouth and pulled me away from him. I don’t remember. He wasn’t too hot though. This club had naked pole dancers, so that’s my conclusion as to why I semi-enjoyed myself.

I’d much rather hang out in a more intimate setting, go to a concert, or just hang out at home and watch a movie.

Does that make me boring? I think not.
Just don’t ever ask me to go clubbing with you because I’m sure I’ll laugh in your face.

Thursday, Ya.

Today was an uneventful morning of shopping. I've decided that I have a wide foot and a way-too-small ass.
Don't try to convince me otherwise, there's nothing you can do.
Now I'll get dressed for work, where I'll be subjected to people who smell like piss and probably have the HIV.

But first! I need to have my eyebrows waxed. They are OUT OF THIS WORLD, sprouting into big bushes of death...

Roughing it along the Appalachian Trail

Camping; June 6-8...

List of stuff I need to bring along (according to Maggie, my personal lil girlscout cookie!!):

*sleeping bag

*pillow (small, a hoodie could work)

*clothes for two days (jeans are a bad idea if there is rain in the forecast)

*rain gear (an umbrella doesn't cut it)

*pajamas

*hoodie

*mess kit (stuff to eat with and upon) tuna fish can(s) and utensils should be sufficient

*wire coat hanger with cardboard base

*dop kit

*personal items such as a toothbrush, soap, shampoo, etc.

*sunscreen

*towel

*bathing suit?

*personal first aid kit

*pocket knife

*matches

*folding chair

*rope

Moldy Bread Girl

Oh God, I got jealous of Maggie's blogspot thing and now I have one too!