HURRICANE SABRINA

2008-05-03T17:43:00.000-07:00

Feel free to redirect yourself. I am now at Sabrina See that's probably the only place you'll be able to find me from now on. Awesome.

2008-05-02T13:53:00.001-07:00

I haven't uploaded photos in the last week, but things have been sort of back-and-forth for me. I guess I'll settle back down and focus pretty hard on my writing. I rode out my restlessness and I think I might just be able to finally get back into the groove of things. I am not exactly one to bother with apologies or whatnot, but the content here has seriously been lacking. I almost want to be like, WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? But then again, this is my stupid blog so I guess I should figure it out.

On the flip side, this whole Chinese Democracy business with Dr. Pepper promising a free drink to everyone if the album comes out this year. Well I guess I plan to top that. If Chinese Democracy comes out this year I will post nude photos all over this blog. That being said, the chances of that megalomaniac actually deciding his post Guns 'n Roses album is finally finished has about the same chances as me cutting off my tits, cooking and then eating them. So clearly, Chinese Democracy will be released right at the tail end of 2008 and I can eat shit one more time in my fucking life. Awesome.

2008-04-27T05:46:00.000-07:00

I had some really good ideas a second ago, but in my manic panic to post my latest mixtape they all went away to thoughtfully-ever-after land. I thought a lot about everything that didn't matter at all tonight and I thought about all of that so hard that I am still awake and the sun is rising and I want to be angry at myself for just thinking hard instead of sleeping deadly. How come I never get the good and gone sleep unless I've been playing in traffic after a drinking binge? I guess it's just one of those things I'll come to accept like never fucking your editor and that I've been the other woman longer than I care to admit. At least I'm good at it.

2008-04-25T19:44:00.001-07:00

God, lately it's like all my good material gets used up in other places. I almost want to feel bad, but I don't. I guess you guys could just start visiting Mad Atoms on the daily to probably read shit I would have written here or you could continue to read this drivel. Cause lets face it, you idiots are not paying my bills so I am not even sure why I write here anymore. Awesomely, I pen more useless shit here than I do for all my writing jobs combined and that just might be due to the fact that I am less scared of fucking shit up here when I am feeling lazy and out of awesome. God, I am not sure if I have ever been scared of anything in my life, but it's fucked up that I am out of pills and not drinking so I feel like I am out of creativity. I guess I should probably just get it to-fucking-gether and write all that shit they want and blow this shit off.

Ugh, what I really need is a web developer. I registered SabrinaSee but I haven't the time to do all the work associated with starting up a website. I guess what I am saying is that if you have the skills to help me out, get a hold of me because I need to start that shit up. The initial jackoff that offered to help me turned into a flake--so if you are going to flake out on me also I swear to fucking god I will chop your fucking head off.

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Now playing: Foreigner - Cold As Ice
via FoxyTunes

2008-04-24T10:39:00.001-07:00

I am truly unsure if I hate this foxytunes shit or not. Too bad it started popping up and the idea of taking the time to manage or get rid of it is probably more than I can bare to handle. Miracle number 1. It's period time. This time next week I will be even thinner than I am now. Dear God, thanks for thinner. Miracle number 2. I don't really have another miracle actually. I mean, I didn't exactly have one to start with, but I really wanted to talk about having a miracle. I guess never having been in jail is a pretty big miracle when you're me. Go miracles.

There's a sweet new wine bar in Malibu and I noticed it tonight while I was going to get groceries. I guess I will become the local harpie over there because nothing says fun like alcohol and Malibu. Tonight at the meeting at Fox Atomic I told the story where my friend Joey roofied my friend Trent and instead of him pissing all over himself like he did the time before he just got really amorous and spent the entire night caressing her breasts. It was really fucking beautiful/wonderful. I am sure you are impressed.

Tomorrow, I am going to have to wake up early and spend the entire day writing. I don't mean the sort of writing I usually do which is accompanied by watching everything tivo'd from the night before, or talking online for 8 hours to people I am not even sure I want to know, but real actual writing. One of my editors got ahold of my friend to ask if I was the sort of person to decide never to turn something in, even though I said I would. Too bad I am exactly that sort of person. Ugh, I want my money so I guess I am going to do some writing and finally get fucking paid. The end.
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Now playing: Vampire Weekend - Walcott
via FoxyTunes

2008-04-23T22:12:00.000-07:00

I super hate doing work and I guess I am going to get fired from my stupid writing jobs. Since I've been home I've primarily been busy with seeing how long I can avoid eating meat for, along with copious amounts of running. Somehow I can do this all while being online nonstop. Also, I think I might just be going insane from PMS anyways because my tits feel like fucking mountainous anvils on my chest. And because I have written off five different friends since Sunday. I might just be sorry about it, but I bet I won't even miss any of them.

I spent my entire trip home watching an Intervention marathon on A&E. This is probably my favorite show ever. I really enjoy when I can be like OH MAN, THAT PERSON HAS A FUCKING PROBLEM. Then I have to try and think about a time I may have done something similar to what they're doing on screen. One of the episodes I watched will probably be my favorite of all time. This chick had something bad like rickets and needed to treat the pills. Now, I broke my neck and I understand pain management, but as many pain killers as she was taking was beyond me. In the morning she'd have 2 oxycotin to get her through the day, along with 12 muscle relaxers, and 12 lortabs A DAY. I mean, I have had the occasional pill party, but it is nice to know that I am not an addict because I am pretty sure that combination of that many pills might just fucking kill me. So I guess the point of this was to highlight the fact that I am awesome and can only periodically (rarely) be found passed out on the floor while in the middle of walking into the kitchen, when they were finding this chick on the floor about three times a week. Awesome.

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Now playing: Madonna - Don't Cry for Me Argentina
via FoxyTunes

2008-04-20T20:39:00.000-07:00

I am back in L.A., which is where I am quickly realizing I belong. It turns out when 90% of your day is spent judging the fact that an entire city might be obese or all the women in another city dress like frumpy, ugly dykes--you know where you belong. Anyways, now that I am home I am going to have to go to Vegas next week. I love how I say things like, "I have to go to Vegas," when I mean, I get to go to Vegas cause I am fucking awesome.

I guess this is where I am supposed to write stuff that is clever and wonderful, but instead I am just going to say that I am home and being boring. Also, whenever I try to make my hair curly now that it is so short that I end up looking like Javier Bardem in No Country For Old Men because it sort of curls under and into a bit of a dutch boy hellish nightmare. The rest of the time it looks like I put my head in the freezer when it was wet.

In other news, after searching for nearly a month I found the Cocaine Photos off of Flickr. Hilariously, I thought these were gone forever. Now I just need to talk with the good people at MadAtoms/Fox Atomic and see if I can write around them although I don't know who they belong to and cannot get permission. Worst case scenario I get my brother and his beautiful porno hair to participate in our very own Cocaine shoot. All I'll need is a poster of a Delorean and a Members Only jacket. I guess I will just go running right now and when I get home I'll read, finish some writing and sit in the bath, but not in that order.

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Now playing: The Lively Ones - Surf Rider
via FoxyTunes

2008-04-19T14:51:00.000-07:00

Right now I am wearing boots and a bathrobe. I feel like this outfit sums up everything I have been doing and all the things I am avoiding doing--like getting dressed appropriately and being sober.

At any rate, I am still in boston. This was taken after a 7 day drinking binge and a nude photo shoot. Thank god I will never have a real adult job, with real adult consequences.

Anyways, I love. Me. You, but really me. Never forget that.

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Now playing: Daniel Rossen - Too Little Too Late [Jo Jo Cover]
via FoxyTunes

2008-04-11T10:36:00.000-07:00

I guess this is going to be fast. Erin is in the shower and we got fucked up out of our minds last night. Please remember how terrible it is to go out of your mind from drugs and alcohol. If you don't remember I will tell you about it sometime, probably because it is my memory and you will need me to tell you. Idiots. So now we're acting hungover and probably we will venture outside in a bit and act like fucking zombies.

And heres a memo, if you are at a bar runned by the lovechild of Herman Munster and he asks if you want to see a video, you should probably say no because it means you are going to see a video of some youngish girl getting spanked by him and then running away. It will haunt you because you'll decide that she did it for some free drinks and money, and would probably make a great episode on Law & Order: SVU. Creepy.

2008-04-08T12:03:00.000-07:00

Ok, I guess I am not even sorry about being drunk and bitchy last night. Please enjoy the music while you wait. I have to go and prep for Chicago tomorrow.

2008-04-08T00:48:00.001-07:00

So you fucking idiots failed me. All I asked last week was for you to check out my TMZ piece and comment on it and I got one fucking comment. Good going idiots. I hope you all choke on a dead moose's last shit.

2008-04-07T02:46:00.000-07:00

Ugh, I should be in bed, but I got caught up in yet another Law & Order: Criminal Intent Marathon and now it is like 3am and I have yet to sleep. Hilariously, this is my big issue. Tomorrow, my big issue will be preparing to get my taxes done. I guess by that I just need to psyche myself into showing up so that the government does not rape me later this year when they realize that I decided to party instead of doing my taxes. How fucking tragic.

Anyways, this is my new haircut. I actually super like it, but have enjoyed running into people and asking them if it looks like Jodi Foster. Too bad no part of me looks like Jodi Foster or I would be subjected to a lifetime of ugly dykedom. Uh, you know who I think is hot today, Chris Evans, I would fuck the shit out of him while high on crack if that was my only option, and let's face it, I'm from L.A. I don't do crack cause that shit is for poor people. None of this really has a point, but I just wanted to throw that out there since the internet is just creepy enough where I can be like WHOA, I FUCKED CHRIS EVANS WHILE HIGH ON CRACK BECAUSE I SAID I WOULD AND NOW I AM THAT MUCH MORE AWESOME AND THAT MUCH MORE TRASHY. I will never function as a grownup so I guess I better die before I turn 30.

I actually really like my hair lighter, which is hilarious cause I have been fighting the whole lighter hair thing for like 10 years. Since my sister Gia has her hair red right now I have to avoid that color so my options were black, some other shade of brown or the dreaded blondeish. I got daring and am super happy about it. Also, if I style my hair in a certain way I look like I am in the Flock of Seagulls and it is fucking awesome. So I am going to see Erin on Wednesday and that is pretty swank. The following Monday I'll be in Boston and maybe from there I'll go to NYC, but nothing is set in stone for the whole NYC thing. Anyways, my flight from Chicago to Boston got all fucked over cause ATA decided to go under and I basically got raped and have to call my credit card company in the morning. Lame. I should probably write about something hilarious, but I really want to just go to bed.

2008-04-04T13:01:00.000-07:00

I know I need to fucking blog more often, but I also probably need to be tested for HIV more often and I am not even going to do that because that might fucking blow my chances for becoming a serial AIDS rapist. Oh well. Anyways, I have been keeping more of my "gooder" ideas and pitching them to MadAtoms the new site I've been writing for. So sue me, you idiots get the left overs. Today they published the piece I wrote about stupid TMZ being the beginning of the end of fun. Probably you should go over there and comment the fucking shit out of my post to remind them that I already have a fucking audience and should only have a bigger audience of readers and stalkers. Oh, and I am pretty sure I got a Lillith Fair dyke haircut, which I consequently decided to make blonde yesterday. Too bad I love it. I'll post pictures when I get a chance. Otherwise, deal with the fact that all you get are my leftovers. Now you're on the same level as the dudes I date, impressive.

2008-04-01T06:35:00.000-07:00

I would like to take credit for this pie, but I didn't make it. I did however, talk my brother through making it because I am awesome like that. I had him melt white chocolate and then put it on the graham cracker crust. After that hardened he layered a banana flavored pudding with fresh, sliced bananas. When he finished it I was sort of impressed by how beautiful it ended up. He even made a design in the top of it.
Sometimes, the best part of my week is when I see my gay dog running outside while my dad is tinkering with something. And then my dad bends over and my gay dog takes this as the time to rape my father. I guess you have never lived until you've seen your dog sneak attack your own father. I recommend it if you've never tried it.
Oh man, I am in the middle of writing these terrible finance articles and I know I should now even entertain the idea of blogging because I have less than 4 hours to finish them up, but I am a fucking slacker so sue me. But man, I am listening to Three Dog Night and I desperately want to be so loaded that I can see the musical notes in front of my face. Too bad I am going to avoid getting absolutely wasted until sometime after 9 am PST.
Fuck it, I have to go and finish this and so the entire post is going to be boring lame shit and some pictures of wonderful sunshine in my yard. If you have a problem with this--eat a dick.

2008-03-28T05:10:00.000-07:00

I actually made this for one person, but I am such a magnificent giver that I figure FUCK IT all you idiots deserve a copy. Here in Los Angeles it is a fortifiable summertime and I am milking it for everything it is worth, regardless if the nights are still cool. After five to fifty-five drinks it's all the same anyways. So feel free to give my mix a listen and memo me regarding how badly it sucks.

Speaking of sucking, I went out the other night and it was like a fucking post modern episode of the Twilight Zone. I am not even kidding. Everytime I thought OH, IT CANNOT GET ANY WEIRDER. It just got so much weirder. First of all, we end up at this bar where I witnessed the drunkest human being ever. And he comes up to my sister and I and he tries to tell me that his friend across the bar has a lot of money and I should talk to him. While he is saying this some other people across the bar are pointing and making gestures like OH HE IS YOUR PROBLEM NOW! So of course I scream IN 10 MINUTES HE WILL NEVER COME BACK OVER HERE AGAIN. GET READY!

So Douchey MCDouchebag turns to my sister and starts asking her this exact question and maybe you can help to decode it because it was like talking to the genetic illegitimate mutation of Paula Abdul and The Riddler. "So, how would be feel--you boyfriend--if there was a jam band and you had to reckon?" I mean, we think it was a question, but we'll never know for sure. He asked that like 37-times and we were still confused because Jam Bands are tricky like that, but we eventually deduced that he thought she was a porn star or something.

So Gia goes to the bathroom and I sit there with him. He puts his arm around me but then starts to rub the chick next to me and finally I turn to him and am like, WILL YOU JUST FUCK OFF I AM SICK AND TIRED OF YOUR SHIT. And then he tried to walk away but fell over and demanded another drink. I admire him for his intent to continue drinking, but he was eventually kicked out of the bar and shortly thereafter we left. As we were walking out this Australian weirdo starts talking to my sister and asks us for a ride around the corner and because I like to take chances I agree to give him one. As he is getting out of the car you can see him panic and he is like I HAVE HALF A JOINT UPSTAIRS IF YOU GUYS WANT SOME. Uh, I guess I'll pass since you just said your place used to be a crack house and is generally sketchy. Thanks though.

This is about the time things went fucking bonkers. We wanted to go to this shishi diner, but they closed early and I needed coffee and a short moment of contemplation before I had to drive. Mostly because I don't like DUIs, but partially because I wanted to talk. Our two options are Denny's and Norm's. If you're not from L.A. you don't quite get the trashy majestic that's Norm's, but I have been kicked out of there for starting a fight and demanding that Norm show up and stick his dick in me, so that option was out. Off to Denny's we go.

As we're parking my sister is like MAN, I SHOULD HAVE JUST GOTTEN HIGH WITH THAT CREEPY DUDE. When we get out of the car these two dudes are like HEY LADIES, WANNA GET HIGH. I felt like I was in an episode of South Park with Towlie. At any rate, I didn't even smoke and we went into the restaurant. This is how I know for sure I wasn't going out of my mind. We get seated in the epicenter of crazy4.0 and the trouble begins immediately. Those guys move over to a table filled with outrageous drunks and one girl leans over to talk to another and headbuts her in a way that causes blood to gush out of the second girls face. Had it been during a prize fight it would have had to be stopped because that bitch was a bleeder.

I start bragging to my sister that she missed the best part and begin going through the menu, APPLE PIE--I GUESS I'LL NEVER EAT THIS AGAIN. MOONS OVER MYHAMMY IN MY ASSHOLE. And other various comments like this. As I am saying them, the creepy gypsy child in the next booth stares and me and says the same thing that I am saying right after I say it and I am like WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. What I don't know till later is that her mother, sitting back-to-back with my sister turns and says ARGENTINA for no fucking reason. Then they get up and leave.

Directly across from us is a homeless man my sister begins calling Mr. Miyagi and a woman that is probably homeless, but in her thrift store suit eating a burger and mostly staring into space. As we get our food I decide to say DENNY'S IS FILLED WITH INSANE POSSIBILITIES. I GUESS WE SHOULD COME HERE MORE OFTEN. Immediately after I said that I wanted to take the words back. The busisness smart homeless lady turns to me and tells me my hair is very cute and asks me if I know the place next to the Hotel Carmel. I've been to the Hotel Carmel, and it is alright, but I don't know of what place she's talking about, but I bet it is a hostel. I tell her to JUST STAY AT THE CARMEL, IT IS PRETTY ALRIGHT. Knowing she is going to ask me if she can crash at my joint next. Before she can keep speaking Mr. Miyagi passes out, slamming his face on the table.

The gears shift more as Business Chic Betty tries to keep up conversation as two very drunk women walk into Denny's and say things like GET MY STEAK RIGHT--I SAID MEDIUM RARE. Yea, medium-rare, cause they give a shit cause this is DENNY'S. Ugh, so said drunk chicks start talking to us and one leans over and asks if she can have Gia's toast and we are like SURE. Then she takes a bite and gives it back to Gia. Around this point is when Gia is like WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I GET INDICTED FOR MURDER BY REASON OF INSANITY.

2008-03-27T05:29:00.000-07:00

Holy shit, I just had a drunk flashback, and I better hurry up and write it before I forget or fall asleep. Last week, when I went wild at Erika's birthday, there were these douchebags that had a band. I would say their terrible band name here, but then one day they would search it and be like WE ARE NOT A TERRIBLE BAND! And maybe they are not totally terrible, but I just listened to 30 seconds of their most downloaded song on iTunes and I think it is pretty bad and people have hired me to review music so I guess that makes me a fucking expert on the matter. Your 33 Black Angeles sucks dick. I guess the part where I do not say their name is over and I can move on with the story.

I guess I got stuck talking to one of the band members. I probably talked to each and everyone of them by the end of the night including their super creepy manager. At some point, I was sick of hearing they played SXSW and was like MAN, I JUST WANT TO CLOSE MY FUCKING TAB. Then one of them sort of poked at me like I was a caged animal in the petting zoo and I turned around and was like, "You guys should play at the Mutiny." For everyone other than Mandy and Erin this will not be hilarious. The Mutiny is this shitty bar down the street from Erin that is owned by this guy named Ed that is like everyone's dad that happens to be a serial rapist who looks like Herman Munster. I wish I was making this up. Anyways, Ed will let any band play. I mean, I have heard some of the worst music on earth there and no one will be like GOD, THIS SHIT IS TERRIBLE because bad music is just something you sign up for. I could send my little sister in there to ask to perform and by the end of the night she'd have a drink in her hand while she spoke-sang some lyrics she made up along the way and she is 8-years-old.

So when I first tell this guy he should play The Mutiny he is like YEA, DO YOU KNOW SOMEONE THERE I CAN GET IN TOUCH WITH? And I have to be an asshole and I say, YEA, ASK FOR ED. IT'S IN CHICAGO AND I AM PRETTY SURE HE LETS ANY IDIOT WITH A VOICE AND SOME INSTRUMENTS PLAY ON HIS CREEPY MAKESHIFT STAGE. Sad face ensues and I go home. I guess this is an entire waste of time for most of you morons that will never visit The Mutiny.

I on the other hand will be there in a weeks time pimping free drinks and trying to have sex in their phone booth because I am trashy like that. Your consolation prize can be the lame pictures of my sister and friend Katie making faces while I photograph myself without a bra on in the mirror to see if I am fat or FAT. P.S. I love the way my tattoos creep out of my pants. That's class ladies and gents.

2008-03-24T03:43:00.000-07:00

These picture posts are fucking with my general blogging mojo because I feel like I spend more time talking about what's happening in the photos than I do coming up with a cohesive ditty that has some sort of point, which ties into a bigger idea or something. Anyways, today was Easter and I woke up with a hangover that I knew was not going to end anytime soon. At 11pm I was still contemplating suicide. Amazing.
Easter in Los Angeles is great because it means going to the beach and looking around at all the other good looking people and scowling at the ugly/fat/people clearly not from L.A. and hoping they understand that they have to leave before they fuck up the entire scope of things. I wanted to share this moment with people but my sister spent today with her boyfriend because he's leaving to go back to Argentina tomorrow afternoon (Monday). I wonder if she is going crazy or if she'll wait to go insane till after he is gone.
Once I got home I got to play Easter with my two favorite people, my dog-son and my little sister and they wanted to play and I wanted to drink arsenic if it promised to make me stop feeling like I was going to puke. At some point I fell asleep on the couch for a couple of hours and never got to the work I was supposed to do this weekend because I am a piece of trash loser.

The beach is looking so fucking fab these days that I've decided to divide my time between coffee houses in Hollywood and Malibu. I really need to figure out some sort of stupid schedule and stick with it because I waste so much time when I am writing at home. I have been sitting here for like 4 hours and watching Law & Order and Charmed. And before you judge me on the Charmed thing, Julian McMahon plays some sort of smarmy demon and he has a beard in the episode I am watching right now and he is hot as fucking hell. Thank god he quit this stupid show to become Christian Troy and give me something to get off to for-fucking-ever.

I am probably going to buy a Smart Car. I mean, what the fuck do I need with a stupid giant volvo? Don't get me wrong, I love that car, but I think the new convertible Smart Car is so fucking cute and gas efficient and I want it. I will have that car within the next six months. Then I will take the top down and drive around the beach and listen to the GoGos and mock Belinda Carslie by doing blow and fucking a lot of dudes. Gosh, somethings never change.
Here is probably the worst looking photo of me I can find. Parts of the makeup from the night before is still on my face and the rest of me is a complete and total hot mess. I need to stop furrowing my brow before I need to start getting botox like next month. I woke up at the Viceroy hotel and I am pretty sure I might remember parts of getting there and room service because I woke up and called them for a pot of coffee and a pitcher of orange juice. Then I went back to bed and woke up again at like noon. Then I walked for like three miles in the sun while mostly thinking about how terrible I looked.

2008-03-21T02:48:00.000-07:00

So it was my brother's girlfriend's birthday and I had this great idea to get everybody that didn't need to be in a bar to meet in a bar and get absolutely wasted. At the same time, I was supposed to be watching out to see if some dude I want to talk to would be next door at the coffee house. I guess I should actually start over by saying, I have decided that perhaps I might like someone other than myself in a way where I do not want to destroy their life. This happened about a month ago when I realized he might be smarter than he'd let on in our past meetings.

Ugh, I started writing this like four days ago, and now I am so incredibly hungover that I can honestly admit that I am a super lazy bitch that forgets the purpose of this post so I am just going to alter it so I can post something and get it over with. P.S. check out my brother with his super sexy 70s porn star hair. If you do not notice, let me point out that he and I have exactly the same haircut. I guess we are soul mates for life! He impersonates Beethoven and I get Mozart and we party like it's 1835.

Anyways, I spent most of this evening trying not to get drunk but then getting sort of drunk because bar management was demanding I dance on the bar. Eventually, I gave in because I was paying to get 10 people drunk and the drinks would be comped if I slutted myself out all over the bar. I am so good at slutting it is sick. Above is a picture of me slutting around in a birdcage while dancing to Umbrellas by stupid Rhianna. That is a song I hate.

Sometimes, when drinking is much more than I can handle I throw the drink down the front of my shirt so that people can ask me why I am all sticky and wet and I can respond by saying, "I was milking myself." Oh, back to the fact that I thought I liked this dude Paul last week and I spent the entire night trying to run into him and failing. Later on, someone told me he is not a writer, but an actor and now I am not sure I like him at all anymore except for the fact that he looks like the sort of guy that would force you to have sex.

I like to think of this photo as my vida-chica-loca stage. I like how my big hair appropriately flows backwards so that I can give the stink eye to the camera. I also like how my friend Christen appears to be impersonating Alfred Hitchcock.

Oh, after the shots my brother and his girlfriend had a huge fight and I got to sober up and try and solve that problem. In the middle of that Joey and I may have had a fight too where I got to tell her she wasn't in love with her boyfriend, but with me. And I think that was super offensive to her or something, but I don't really care since it is probably true.

I guess this is just a stupid picture of some rabbit window display. But it is swank how you can sort of see my reflection in the bottom right hand side.

After I took this photo the lady with the blonde hair ran after me because she thought I was trying to scam free picture of my kid or something on Peter Cottontail's lap. Too bad I think that huge rabbit is fucking terrifying and needed a picture to commemorate the sheer terror that of the situation. I mean, people force their small children to take photos with that asshole and he probably has an erection the entire time and then later eats their souls.

Here are some photos of Gia and I taking Mugzy to the vet to get his dick checked on. Everything is going well in dicksville and he is doing way better and promises to try and avoid rough sex with the stucko wall from now on.

Here I am on the phone with Erin telling her about my dad having to give my dog a handjob and how I am generally unsympathetic about not rubbing my dog's dick since he is my dog-son.

2008-03-19T02:10:00.000-07:00

Oh my pretty little pets. I've neglected you dearly. To be honest these past couple of weeks have been trying to say the least and then my dog broke his dick yesterday and I about went bonkerinos because I realized the gravity of the situation right as I was getting ready to leave the house to go and check out how fucking drunk my sister was. This lead to me being the best looking person at the emergency pet clinic at 10p.m. on St. Patrick's Day. But yea, my dog broke his dick and I would love to explain the situation, but I am trying to shop the story around and I'd rather make money off of it rather than amuse you guys for three more minutes because sadly, you do not pay my bills. Not that it exactly pays the bills either, but I guess it's a stepping stone in the right direction.

Before my dog broke his dick I was drunk a bunch of times and I pee'd on the hood of a strangers car. I am not sure that I even had a problem with said stranger or their car other than somehow I got it into my head to piss on a red car and theirs was the red car in the vicinity. I also pointed out to a man that he had an ugly, pointy chin and to his face said YOU WERE BORN WITH THAT CHIN, YOU KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE SO YOU CANNOT BE MAD ABOUT IT. I also did a lot of other things that are typical of what I am like when I decide to be a monster while drinking.

My best friend is also in town right now. It is weird because she is almost a fully functioning adult, but still does things like an 11-year-old. I know she will never read this, but sometimes it is shocking to me that she will be one of the top 10% wealthiest people no matter what she does because of who she is, but she is like a train wreck. Well, one that has derailed and somehow managed to get back on the tracks and start chugging a long. She had to talk to one of my sister's who will probably read this and I am alright by that. This sister went absolutely insane and ran off with her 27-year-old creepshow boyfriend for like a week then she lost her job and had to come crawling back home because a week vacation is all she needed anyways. She's 18 and it is the sort of thing you come to expect from someone that needs to be medicated and reacts first and thinks later. IF YOU ARE READING THIS PLEASE COME TO ME FOR HELP BECAUSE I TOO HAVE GONE ABSOLUTELY INSANE AND AM WILLING TO GET YOU THE HELP YOU NEED. Other than that, there isn't much more I can say and she refuses to talk to me about it because I treat her like a case worker I guess. Besides all these things, things have been awesome and I have been having a great time trying to pick up my running even though my knee is sort of crappy.

2008-03-14T03:07:00.000-07:00

One of the most terrible things that can happen is when you go on a date with some dude that you are not even interested in, but you figure why not? Then he is like I AM GOING TO SHOW YOU OFF TO ALL MY FRIENDS. And this is fine too because once you decide to go MIA he will have to explain that you are an evil fucking bitch that never returns his calls. It becomes better than fine once he is like THIS IS MY FRIEND BLAHBLAH and you look at that dude and you are like WHOA, I WOULD LIKE TO BONE YOUR FRIEND BLAHBLAH AND I WOULD LIKE TO BONE HIM TONIGHT. Then suddenly you stop acting annoyed and you are like LET'S HAVE A PARTY HERE WITH YOUR FRIENDS. Or even worse you decide to invite them all to the bar with you where you spend all your time putting the full-court-press on the super cute friend that is nerdy and blonde and then you're like HEY, I WANT TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING ON THE COMPUTER. DO YOU HAVE ONE? And you're doing this while the idiot you came with is at the other end of the bar with his other friends and they're all looking at you like you are the whore-bitch of the century and you have to wait and see if BLAHBLAH is an even more terrible friend than you are a date. Since he is a man, he almost always will be and then you go back to his place where you are like OH, CAN WE HAVE ANOTHER DRINK and while he is in the kitchen you follow him all coyly and then you start making out and he fucks you on his kitchen floor. When it's over you are like THANKS MAN. And then you get up and go home like a respectable slut should. Nine times out of ten the dude you were on the date with originally will call you the next day and be like WHAT HAPPENED and you can be like OH, I WASNT FEELING WELL SO I WENT HOME. And his friend will not argue with that story cause he knows if you come around again he is getting laid. Man, I love men.

2008-03-13T02:04:00.000-07:00

BEST THING EVER. "I'm gonna babysit your vagina" and "The backseats big enough you can perform an abortion in it. Which comes in pretty handy when you perform as many abortions as I do, which is A LOT! Because I love them." And finally:

W.A.: "Check it out! It's a sex machine,"

"Uh, that looks like it's gonna hurt?"

W.A.: "That just means it's working. I'm gonna live forever!"

Oh man, I am so hot for Will Arnett and his dirty mouth.

2008-03-11T17:55:00.000-07:00

I guess I owe a blog post. Too bad I have been incredibly busy revisiting my alcoholism to sit around typing shit here. Amazingly enough, I think my sister made a brilliant point. I just fucking hate the winter and the cold days so I never go out. The second that the days start getting longer and the sun is shining like mad I am drunk all the time. I guess I would be sober all the time if I lived in Antarctica. Anyways, Melissa tagged me in this stupid meme or whatever the fuck it is called and basically I have to answer six secrets about me or something. At least that's what I think I am supposed to do. Too bad I didn't really pay attention and am going to do it my own way.

I do not plan to live past 30. I didn't plan to live past 25. I bet I am going to live forever cause I am not planning for the future since I decided I don't even want one.

I have an undying love for Christmas music and listen to it mostly when I am in the car or getting ready to go out. Nothing says PUMPED UP like a little Alvin and the Chipmunks.

I got hit by a car three weeks ago when I was crossing the street and the dude nearly took my arm off, but I kicked the side of his fucking Lexus so hard at the same time that he had a huge dent and he was apologizing to me.

I have an eating disorder. I am a compulsive over-eater. When I get stressed out I just sit and eat and if I wasn't so entirely lazy I would puke it up. Later on I starve myself to manage this. This is not a cry for help. People that really need help are not honest about shit like this. You wanted honest. This is it.

I never do blow in LA. Pretty much ever. Not cause I do not like it, but because it is sort of cliche to be that girl from Los Angeles that doesn't have a real job that parties 24-7 and is geeked out of her mind all the fucking time. If I'm in your city, it's an entirely different issue and I am probably going to be fucked up the entire time because I am on social hiatus.

I have a sister that I am pretty sure needs to be committed to a 72-hour lockup, but my parents are too proud to have her wrapped up in the looney bin. I probably needed it at her age too, but everyone ignored me because my grades were pretty decent and I locked myself in my bedroom. Oh, teen angst, how I do not miss you.

I guess I will tag Erin and Mandy.

2008-03-08T03:52:00.001-08:00

I guess I will write this up as a short story eventually, but for now I will just go ahead and explain to you the dream I had last night because it included sex with Daniel Day Lewis, Nick Swordson and the fact that white people were eliminated from society. Maybe it was American people. In all honesty it was fucking confusing. It was the future and American people were world-wide outlaws and because I am always down to live on the edge I was hiding in a containment unit behind Daniel Day Lewis's apartment. It was all very, Diary of Anne Frank, and these creepy floating robo cops would come by every so often to check and see if any intruders were around and this is when I would go and hide in my area. For whatever reason I had to share a bathroom with Daniel Day Lewis and the details are sort of fuzzy, but like one would imagine that man has some insane hygiene issues. I guess I decide to bring them up while we are both in the bathroom and we begin fighting. It is hot as hell cause he is in a towel and I am like BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. I AM A KNOW-IT-ALL AMERICAN. BLAH, BLAH, YOU ARE DANIEL PLAINVILLE AND YOU DRINK MY MILKSHAKE. Then he grabs me by the neck and shoves me into the wall because all things awesome begin with a huge fight and then quickly move to super intense sex. This is where I get to tell you that in my dreams Daniel Day Lewis's dick size is average at best and I was like OH, YOU'RE CIRCUMCISED, THIS IS SURPRISING. Anyways, our super loud fucking alerted the authorities because he's supposed to be living alone since his wife died and we have to escape out a window and into an alley or something. I guess this could be a subversive short-story about the end of America's legacy. Then again, it could just be a really insane dream where I get to have hate-sex with Daniel Day Lewis.

2008-03-06T13:34:00.001-08:00

I was just watching this and I realized that it is absolutely indicative of most nights where I party as hard as possible. That part where the apple pie trees come to life--I HAD THAT HAPPEN ONCE AFTER DOWNING A KLONOPIN COCKTAIL AND THEN DRINKING HALF A BOTTLE OF VODKA. Granted, the happy/scary apple pie tree people are probably some Heroin Chic rockstars I know that are like, "Whoa, you are out of your fucking mind! What you need is some blow!" Yes, things can get better. Anyways, This entire McDonalds commercial reminds me of mescaline and that feeling you get after you're about to puke all over everyone and then suddenly their faces melt off and they are all wearing animal masks and you accept the fact that your best friend just turned into Splinter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Let's face it, how could that be so wrong? That cartoon theme song was pretty much the best thing I have ever heard and I still listen to it on my ipod while driving in LA traffic, peeping into surrounding cars and looking for a swank piece of ass to flirt with.

When the evil Shredder attacks,
these turtle boys don't cut him no slack.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (x2)

Splinter taught them to be Ninja teens.
He's a radical rat
Leonard leads, Donatello does machines,
That's a fact Jack
Raphael is cool but rude,
Gimme a break!
Michaelangelo is a party dude!
Uh, yea. I dare you to defy me by explaining how that is not the best theme song of all time. I also dare you to justify how this entire post sounds like I spent the last two days chomping down on pain killers when I am out and have been entirely too lazy to visit a real doctor.

2008-03-03T12:04:00.000-08:00

I have been up for a while since I decided I was above sleeping. I am not sure everyone understands the problem with "feeling more important than..." but it can get you into all sorts of trouble. Last night for instance, I felt more important than sleeping to rest my body and now I am a zombie. Last week, I felt more important being center of attention than telling my brother's friend he could keep trying to make plans with me on the daily, but I will never show up, even if I promise to. Tomorrow I will feel more important than something I cannot even name, but I bet it will cause me lie in bed and get nothing done. Too bad I cannot feel more important than all of my super productive friends and then I can be all I ever dreamed. On that note, I cannot remember if I ever dreamed of becoming anything at all. In all honesty from as earliest memory I only wanted to be reading and after a while it dawned on me that I could probably write things that were more interesting. Still, I cannot claim that to be a dream, but mostly just a matter of fact cause here we are.

2008-03-02T05:52:00.000-08:00

God, I am supposed to be taking this miraculous time off to reevaluate my life and better myself, or whatever. Since I screwed my knee up I have been doing these terrible exercise videos. Usually I tivo them via the fitness network and now my ass and core are sore non-stop in an entirely new way. That could have been a dirty joke. I guess I will point it out since most people are fucking morons. Anyways, I've been looking for new writing gigs and I may have found one. It seems like my sort of thing. You know what else is my sort of thing? Staying up till 6am because I noticed that Law & Order: SVU starts at that time and I will never get enough Law & Order in my fucking life.

So I have a few things to write and instead of focusing Daniel-son, I spent my entire Saturday night watching Season 1 of Nip/Tuck. I guess I will reward myself with season 2 after I get some shit done like solving the nationwide female genital mutilation crisis. Speaking of that, consider yourself lamed out by a video of my youngest sister dancing in pajamas while singing along to Abba. Yes, please be aware that pedophiles everywhere will be tantalized by her major dancing moves which appear to be the same ones I like to use when I am fucking wasted. Anyways, now it is almost 7am and the sun is up and the guys at the SVU nabbed another murdering rapist just like I figured they would. Unlike the regular old fashioned murdering rapists I read about and the ones these douches capture, these idiots are caught almost every time. Oh, and whatever happened to the Ted Bundy sort of good looking rapists? Jesus, even on television all the sex offenders look like Brian Peppers. Someone needs to start casting some really hot looking sexual predators cause those are the ones I like to daydream about.

2008-02-29T10:32:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged in a week. I am pretty sure my feet stink in an unnatural way right now. Additionally, I have been drinking more than usual all week. Seriously, how dare the people I know ask me to leave my layer and enter into public. Anyways, before I start updating like I am Robert Stack I guess I should make mention that today is Leap Day, which is basically a man made day cause you cannot divide ACTUAL HUMAN TIME by 365 days exactly and then every 4 years you get an extra day. Seriously, only human beings could be dumb enough to come up with a concept like Leap Year. Fucking retards. Anyways, if you are into Leap Year and are the cheapest bastard in town you can get $0.29 coffee at Einstein Bros. Bagels & Noah's Bagels. I was thinking about going there and ordering a hundred cups of coffee at $0.29 demanding the hundred cups and leaving, but they probably have a one-per-customer limit and also I am too lazy to even leave my house. Also, if you're born on Leap Year they apparently give you a free meal. A lot of places do this apparently, including but not limited to stupid Morton's Steakhouse. I guess I just want to say, HEY ASSHOLE, IF YOU'RE A LEAP YEAR BABY I FUCKING HATE YOU. There it's off my chest.

Oh, and the total lack of photos on this blog, that's due to the fact that my camera mysteriously disappeared. Someone recently asked me if I lost it while drinking, but there is no way that happened because the last time I saw it, it was in my purse, in my bedroom and I was fucking sober. I am sure I deserve to lose it since I have been reviewing all the shit I have stolen from people while super obliterated and when you can add PURSE, CAR, and VESPA--you know you're an asshole. Due to this major oversight and probable karmic force at work, I am just going to post old photos and maybe even some of me being super fat where I point out any and all double chins, which everyone I know refers to as Fred. Thanks for being there for me Fred.

If I can come up with anything remotely awesome I guess I will post again later today. Probably, I won't since I am going back to my chiropractor to have my knee worked on some more so I can resume physical activities that I cannot be paid for with twenties. In the case that you're a moron, I am referring to prostitution even though I have entirely too much dignity to accept funds for fucking.

2008-02-22T01:05:00.000-08:00

On nights like this, where it rains hard and the silence is pounded by the slap-popping of water hitting the house on all sides, my body aches all over. At first I try to lie in bed, writhing around trying to find the one position that will relieve some of the pain associated with my fragile bones, my fall apart figure. These are the same nights I wish I smoked so I could lie in bed with a drink and smoke contemplating the fact that my entire skeleton could belong to a 62-year-old woman and hate it, even if I am sure it is only doing the best that it can.

Eventually, I give up and are willing to rub every assortment of ointment all over my body. Every space of skin and muscle must be taken up and managed with a fiery burn to soothe and silence a pain that can otherwise cause you to vomit. When that doesn't work I sort of tremble down the stairs in a daze while making my way to the pile of pills that I'd prefer only to have to use recreationally, and I take as many as possible. Then I sort of rock myself and pray until it phases itself out.

2008-02-21T03:29:00.000-08:00

This is my hundredth post on this blog. I guess that could be monumental if I had an actual goal. I guess that leads me to some bizarre existential train of thought where I start to wonder if I have any goals at all or if I am actually content with teaching Fitzgerald to an 8-year-old while playing with my dog while getting drunk once a month knowing I will get hosed down later in the evening in an attempt to manage me. I guess I could write a lot more, but then I would have to stop and finish it tomorrow and end up waiting to post this really important #100 blog. I guess this is a fine example of how I live my life--instant pleasure, simple gratification.

2008-02-20T06:24:00.000-08:00

i guess i will tell an even more diltued tale about the grown woman that lost her writing job with major delusions of grandeur and didn't even look for a new one because mercury was in retrograde. probably she would not use proper context or grammar. too bad all of china might die over that. i guess i am ready to get new ink and by that i mean i am going to fuck my sister's friend and then use his tattoo artist. i am in love with myself. good luck sergeant bilko and fuck your mother.

The Ghost With The Most

2008-02-16T03:43:00.000-08:00

Uh, here is a conversation I just had with one of my exes that apparently thinks he is getting back into my pants. Too bad he is too stupid to realize that flattery gets people nowhere.

Sabrina: clearly, i am the most exciting person in town.
Ex Dude: i would say so. you're definitely top 8 funniest. top 5 most sarcastic
Sabrina: oh, i know. for sure.
Ed Dude: top 14 intelligent
Ed Dude: top 3 in bed
Sabrina: haha. 'd prefer to be higher in intelligence, but i guess you can't win em all.
Ex Dude: well maybe you are #1, i just said somewhere in the top 14. i didn t say you were #14
Sabrina: haha. well, on that note, i am going to waste what is left of my intelligence on watching Hot Rod.
Ex Dude: go to it hot stuff

Top three in bed. HAHAHAHAHA. God, I can win 'em all.

2008-02-15T01:16:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentines Day. Here is one part of a three part video you may have seen before, but I bet you have not. This is of some psycho named Steven that didn't tell anyone that once he starts drinking he goes bat shit insane. If you need to know what bat shit insane is, it means he rips his pants off and starts smacking his belt around. After he does that, he pisses on himself and then passes out on the patio. Below is a fruitful array of photos of Steven going insane, pissing himself or passing out. You be the judge of which is which.

2008-02-13T15:13:00.000-08:00

I was going to waste time writing about Valentines Day and orgasms, but then I decided I should save that for tomorrow and most of you idiots won't even read it until Friday, so really, I just bought myself some time to synthesize and formulate an article that probably won't even be appreciated. I hate you all. Here is a terrible transition, the other day, I decided I should probably lie down because I hadn't slept in a couple of days and was in the middle of what was probably an incredible manic episode where I was convinced I could paint with all the colors of the wind or something. Uh, I guess at this point you are wondering what a picture of a plane crashed all over the beach is doing attached to this post. In all honesty, it's the best photo I could find and I am pretty sure now that I have searched for "plane crash" photos on google, the good old government will probably start watching me. If this is the case I hope they send a particularly hot Federal Agent to give me hell and hopefully he will become physically violent.

Anyways, so I am in a complete state of exhaustion and I decide to lie down and try to rest. Eventually, like it happens, I go to sleep and I am guessing less than 15 minutes goes by and I have this exact dream (fuck, this is a stupid post): I am in a plane and in the seat in front of me is my kid sister Sam and my mother gets up to go to the bathroom. While she's in the bathroom suddenly cabin pressure drops. In my dream the stupid masks don't even fall, but suddenly the buckle your seat belts sign goes on and the captain is saying that we're preparing for an emergency landing. I stand up and realize this means we're crashing into the beach and I am sort of fucked. Then I put my hand on Sam's chest and we crash. At this point I also realize my mom is probably dead in the bathroom and that I am probably dead. Once I realize that death is the running theme or something I wake up and am like ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, I AM NEVER GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER THIS. Anyways, that is what happens to me during a manic rage when I try to sleep and probably why most of you guys notice I am always online. Also, I will go out of my way to stop sleeping after dreaming something like that. When I broke my neck, I would have these fucked up Post Traumatic Stress related dreams and I stopped sleeping altogether. Now that I have verified I am a femme bot and not a human I guess I will go back to orgasms and Valentines Day.

2008-02-12T13:49:00.000-08:00

I guess if you do not live in Los Angeles that this blog will be sort of nonplus for you, but what the fuck do I care, really? To the right you will see a picture of my sister, Gia, doing something I cannot explain in-between shows at the Viper Room last May. Let me preface this blog post by saying that although I do not go to the Viper Room on the weekly, or even the monthly, as of late, I have had a trillion good times there. Today, I read in the LA Times that stupid Harry Morton, best know for his Pink Taco franchise has bought the Viper Room and plans to franchise it also. In the case that you're currently unaware of exactly who Harry Morton is, his father owns and operates the Hardrock Hotel & Casino franchise. You know, that Morton family. If you still cannot remember who he is, he used to bang Lindsay Lohan two summers ago, and immediately after he ended things with her is when she turned into Spiraling out of Control Doll.

I have a trillion-and-one problems with this and not just because I am an elitist Angeleno asshole. Nor is it because I have decided that everything Harry Morton touches falls apart and then into and out of rehab. The Viper Room has become a staple in Los Angeles. A place you can consistently count on for being overpriced in general, with disgusting dive-bar attributes, live music shows that might not even been that great, but at least you know what you're getting into. Once it's franchised it will lose whatever mystique it has attained. It cannot be the "World Famous Viper Room" once you can visit it in Las Vegas, Scottsdale or somewhere in useless New Jersey. The best part of the Viper Room has always been going there and then bragging to your friends nowhere near Los Angeles about whatever went on fully knowing they cannot really grasp the scope of it because they do not have their own version.

The Viper Room is where I was drinking the first time I decided to go topless down Sunset Boulevard and one of the first places I realized that I could function in a sickening way during a blackout. I also super love a couple of the bartenders there and although the article says that management is not going to be changing in the L.A. location, this does not mean they won't overhaul the staff in some sort of shitty, sick way. Anyways, I like the way things are because I can hear about awesome shows and get into them for free because that is how I work things out, and if this sort of thing ceases to happen I'll probably kiss my trips to the Viper Room good-bye because it's not the only sub-par, live music playing venue in Los Angeles. It's just the only one River Phoenix dropped dead in front of.

2008-02-11T08:55:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Tall Todd. If you are too stupid to realize which of those giant douche bags is Todd, well the taller one. You're probably wondering if I have fucked him or something and you couldn't be further from the truth. Todd and I go way back, WAY BACK TO WHEN HE LEFT HIS STUPID CAMERA IN A CAB AND I FOUND IT. That day was sort of a miracle cause I just showed up in Boston but had left my camera in Los Angeles. WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO? Anyways, I got super wasted at the Lucky Strike around Fenway and was like EVERYONE HERE IS A DOUCHEBAG, BRIAN, I NEED A CAMERA TO GET PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE OF SUCH DOUCHEBAGGERY! Then I ordered a shot of jager, tequila and whiskey. Before I threw them back like I was Jerry Lee Lewis I said prayer that probably went something like "Inaudible" but I remember asking God for a camera. Later, I sat in a cab and proceeded to have an incredible blackout and presto, the camera miracle happened. So I ended up with this camera and all these photos and I was like WHOA, THIS GUY IS A DOUCHE. He is that guy that walks up to a girl in a bar and is like LET ME TAKE A PHOTO WITH YOU! Uh, sorry idiot, but I could charge you for that since you have a head like a watermelon and stupid lazy Italian eyes. I also ended up with what I can only assume are the family photos from his stupid sister's wedding. What a schmuck. Once Brian and I went through the photos Brian was like OH MAN, TALL TODD IS SUCH A LOSER. THIS IS HILARIOUS. And then the name Tall Todd was born. Hilariously, the lore of Todd has spread as my photos are usually random screen savers and people are always like OH, WHO IS THAT DOUCHE? And I get to be like OH, THAT GIGANTIC FUCKER! HE IS TALL TODD AND HE LOST HIS CAMERA TO ME BECAUSE I PRAYED TO GOD. I am not even kidding, asketh and yee shall receive.

2008-02-10T06:58:00.000-08:00

I guess that blog was pretty fucking offensive. Too bad I never cared that it might fucking come across as shitty. God, you know what is really shitty, getting hyper fucking wasted at your parents dinner party. Here is the real kicker, I cannot actually drink like I used to and I am not sure if I was ever any good at it. But that is deviating from the point, I decided to eat raw bacon and then I was dragged upstairs where I may or may not have been physically abused. Anyways, I got thrown in the shower where I cackled like an insane person and screamed GIA, GET HER OUT OF HER (MY MOTHER). GET HER OUT OF HERE AND TELL HER I DO NOT BELIEVE IN HER NOR DO I RESPECT HER. GOD, TELL HER I HATE HER. Later on, I puked every where all over myself and my bed and I am pretty sure that after I verbally assaulted my mother with that insanity she decided it wasn't a big deal because she thought I was dead when she found me in bed. Also, probably because she raised a spoiled fucking brat. Also, thank god for tiny miracles.

2008-02-07T12:41:00.001-08:00

I was just looking at those pictures from last weekend with my sister. I am seriously the most pale person on fucking earth, which somehow lead me to some new train of thought. Ever notice how girls are always like OH MY FRIENDS ARE SUPER THE BEST LOOKING PEOPLE ON EARTH, WHEN IN REALITY THEIR FRIEND LOOKS LIKE THE ILLEGITIMATE CHILD OF JAY LENO AND JACKIE CHAN? Women are so fucking diluted they don't even know it most of the time. I love it when women set people up on blind dates cause they are like OH, EVERYONE IS SO HOT. HE IS SO HOT AND SHE IS SO HOT, which really means everyone looks like a foot and that chick is kidding herself into thinking she can objectify her ugly friends. If you are a woman and reading this, please think about all your ugly friends and how, whatever. I started this to make a point and I guess I made it. Oh, and saying beauty is in the eye of the beholder is bullshit. As a society we have a general measure of what attractive is. So maybe you only like blondes, fine, but that does not mean your super hot brunette friend is ugly, but the fact that she looks like Shrek absolutely does. Anyways, I bet anything most of your friends are ugly or fat, but you do not have the heart to be honest with them or really anyone else you know because admitting that you are ok with surrounding yourself with fat ugly people is a really big step. Just do it. Please admit what everyone else already knows and get it over with. Amen.

2008-02-06T03:39:00.000-08:00

So I am officially out of work. Not that it matters cause I guess I should have been hustling to get other writing gigs. Anyways, the powers that be have decided to shut down the site I currently write for and it's nothing personal, and I didn't get fired. I am just shit out of luck. So I guess I'll just manage that like I do anything else cause really, what's the big deal in the big spectrum?

I didn't get a chance to go running today and I am going to attribute the fact that I never evened out my mood to that. Then I got the call from my editor and he was like WELL, GUESS WHAT? WE'RE ALL OUT OF WORK. Lucky for him he's also writing for Gawker, so for now his ass is pretty safe. After that I was just sort of blah and I cannot believe I am treating this like a fucking diary. Anyways, I spent the first half of today dealing with the shit storm I started on my sister's birthday when I fully came onto one of her friends I know she's hooked up with because I am a fucking douche bag. Anyways, he is hot and southern and anyone who read my old blog knows that shit is some sort of fucked up kryptonite for me. Once you mix in the fact that like four drinks gets me plastered now, I went to crazy town relatively fast. Anyways, I called my conscience today and was like UH, HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN TO PEOPLE THAT YOU ARE NOT ALWAYS A WHORE, BUT JUST WHEN YOU DRINK? Cause ever since I opened up my drunk mouth Louisiana has been like HEY, LET'S HANGOUT THIS WEEK! HEY, LET'S HAVE FUN. LET'S GO TO A MOVIE. LET'S DO A BUNCH OF WHATEVER CAUSE I AM SURE YOU ARE GOING TO GET NAKED AND SUCK MY DICK. God, he is probably right. Anyways, he finds me online and is like OH, I JUST SAW "THERE WILL BE BLOOD" and I was like IF YOU ENJOYED THAT PROBABLY YOU SHOULD SEE "NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN." Which gets us to talk about the fact that we both love westerns and I comment that I think Steve McQueen is the best cowboy because he had down all the little nuances and he about shits himself cause he is like OH MAN. I LOVE STEVE MCQUEEN. At any rate, we're supposed to go and see "No Country for Old Men" tomorrow and I am trying to figure out the best way to be like, I GUESS I AM TWO-FACE BECAUSE I AM BORING AS FUCKING HELL WHEN I AM SOBER AND I AM A MONSTER AFTER A FEW DRINKS. Whatever, so now I am in this bizarre psycho-sex drama that I started but want nothing to do with and I am about to be officially notified that I am out of work. The only thing that could have made today any better would have been having to get an abortion or herpes. Amazing.

2008-02-05T20:18:00.000-08:00

Uh, the site I write for just got canned and now I am out of work. Maybe I can go back to being a fucking degenerate drunk, right?

2008-02-03T21:25:00.001-08:00

Oh man, I have such terrible cramps right now. I guess I sort of deserve them, and by that I mean, I am a terrible human being. Last night was my sister's birthday and she declared that everyone should drink including myself and my brother's girlfriend who don't typically drink anymore. So drinking commenced and I am pretty sure I came onto one of her friend's that I know for sure she has hooked up with. I guess if she brings it up to me I will just be like OH, I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT BECAUSE I WAS IN A WONDERFUL BLACKOUT. Apparently, I also stole some lady's purse by putting it inside my brother's girlfriend's purse. God, I am a fucking wreck when I start drinking. Anyways, here are some photos from last night.

2008-02-01T01:35:00.000-08:00

I guess it's that time where I blog something stupid and unimportant and you guys hang on my ever word, or maybe you don't clearly, I could care less. When is 3:10 to Yuma going to get on ITunes. I really need it to hurry up and get listed on there so I do not have to ride my bike down to the corner and get into a screaming match with the idiots at Blockbuster like I do anytime I set foot into that place. Once, I went in there to rent something stupid and when I got to the counter they were like WELL, NOW WE NEED TO SEE YOUR ID and I was like I WALKED HERE. I DON'T EVEN CARRY AN ID IN THE CASE THAT I GET HIT BY A CAR I CANNOT BE ID'D. Luckily, my brother's friend was working there at the time and he realized that I am the sort of person that will eventually lean over and slap the person be hind the counter. Anyways he helped me out and I knew that the other idiot would have it out for me. After I dropped that movie off I really didn't give the encounter much thought (god, this is taking forever). Anyways, months and months later I ended up back at Blockbuster and they were like YOU NEVER RETURNED THAT MOVIE. So of course I went ape shit one more time and then vowed to burn Blockbuster to the ground. Since I've never actually burned anything to the ground, including Blockbuster, it means I have a personal vendetta against their establishments and give them hell whenever I can. I still don't understand the point of this rant, but I guess it has something to do with the fact that I am dying to see 3:10 to Yuma. Man, I love westerns. But don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's going to be the best western or even the best movie I have ever seen. I just want to see it though.

I guess on that note I should talk about television. Although, mostly it sucks there's a couple of really great shows that recently started. Breaking Bad on AMC is probably the best television show to come out since I can remember. It's about Walter, a boring high school chemistry teacher that finds out he's got an inoperable tumor in his lung. He's also got a pregnant wife and a teenage son with cerebral palsy. On a whim, he contacts a former student of his who happens to make meth. His plan is too cook up a couple of amazing batches of meth then take the money and set his family up so they can continue in comfort after he's gone. Anyways, the amount of insane hijinx that Walter's gotten into in the past two weeks are more awesome than I can explain and are almost on a Nip/Tuck level without all the weird tranny shit. I highly recommend watching this show if you're going to waste time watching anything this spring.

Now that I have brought my work to my blog I can talk about stuff that is less boring. My sister turns 25 on Saturday. Hilariously, this past July the day before I turned 26 I decided to blow it out my ass and I met like 10 of these kids from fucking Kentucky and on a whim I invited them all home with me and then I blacked out. When I woke up there was sand everywhere and these kids were all over the house. I got up and went to work and left my sister with the problem. This year when she decides to do something as utterly stupid I am going to be there to manage it, and if I've taken too many sedatives to be helpful, I'll deal with it in the morning.

2008-01-29T10:20:00.000-08:00

My sister's birthday is in less than a week. Every year at this time I end up spending more money than feasibly possible because she appeals to my sense of fun and because whenever I get piss drunk she has to push me around in a wheelbarrow or whatever. I was going to throw her a fucking billionaire birthday bash, but I went crazy in san francisco and I just found out what my hotel bill was from there, and it isn't pretty. For a two day stay at the shitty Clift Hotel I got charged somewhere around $6,000.00 IN CASE YOU MISSED THAT I WASTED SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS CAUSE I WAS ANGRY AT A HOTEL AND THREW A BITCHN PARTY. Whatever else I was going to write about gets to be overshadowed by the fact that I am a know-it-all tart that has zero concept of the dollar. AMEN.

I guess now I will have to be like I GUESS I NEED TO GET MORE MONEY FAST SINCE I DO NOT LIKE TO NOT HAVE MONEY. Also, I am watching The Last Kiss in the background and Jacinda Barret calls Zach Braff a slut and I guess I am going to start calling a lot of men sluts cause it is fucking hilarious. Oh, and back to my sister, we're holding her party at the Sunset Marquis hotel cause we're young and I'd rather die with nothing to my name than zero fun ever.

2008-01-27T02:14:00.001-08:00

I guess, now I am turning into Heath Ledger. One pill to sleep. One pill to wake up. One pill to kick your mother's ass. Too bad all of you fucks will pretend to care in the same way tons of morons are mourning someone they do not know. So I am watching this terrible movie with Liam Neison and Edward Furlong. I guess Edward Furlong and terrible are synonymous. Anyways, Edward decides to kill his teenage girlfriend and not clean up the mess, when authorities come a knocking the father sends them away until they bring back a warrant. That gives him enough time to burn all the evidence and make what may or may not have been more trouble. Too bad I got fucking bored and changed the channel and now I will never know if Edward Furlong is a murderer as well as a terrible actor.

I put a deep conditioner in my hair last night and now my hair is all fucking hard and nasty. I would wash it out if I could morph myself into the fucking shower, but since I am a goddamned degenerate writer I probably won't. Maybe I will take some sedatives and pain killers and float over to the front of the property and get more pictures of this never ending storm. I am not even kidding, I'm going fucking stir crazy as hell. I guess I won't even do that because I cannot remember where the hell I put my camera a few hours ago because I suffer from alcohol related dementia. PLEASE DON'T LET YOUR CHILDREN TURN INTO THIS.

2008-01-25T23:45:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to focus all day long, but the real problem is that it looks like night 24-7 and my body gets bored and goes to sleep whenever, where ever and I am getting nothing done.

I like that most of the time I start a blog and then get sidetracked by something shiny and come back to it later and have to be like OH, OK. HERE IS WHERE I PICK UP THE PIECES FROM MY LAST SCHIZOPHRENIC THOUGHT. I guess this means I will take some pills and then free write and read it tomorrow and question if I even wrote whatever was typed. That is always an interesting feeling.

Periodically, someone will find me online and tell me they used to read my old blog, or my reviews and then copy and paste a short paragraph to me. Usually, I am like, that is pretty good, did you write it? God, I can only wonder what their reaction is via the waves of the internet super highway, but I bet it is sort of like meeting Laird Hamilton and then watching him wipe out immediately. The thing is, when I blink, I usually forget exactly how I wrote something, so when it's sent to me later on, or if I am rereading it, I have to be like DID THE EDITORS REWRITE IT? I COULDN'T ACTUALLY COME UP WITH SOMETHING LIKE THAT. DID I COME UP WITH THAT? Then I check the original copy and am like HOLY SHIT, I WROTE THAT. Then I give myself tons of pats on the back and whatever else.

Earlier, I watched Eastern Promises. It's weird to watch a film that I am probably not going to get paid to talk about. Especially when the only reason I wanted to see it was VIGGO MORTENSEN NAKED FIGHT SCENE. I guess there really isn't a couth way to explain that the movie was pretty alright and mostly predictable but then Viggo has a mega naked fight that is actually sort of gay, but really sort of hot. Especially when the reviews are supposed to be pg-13. I don't think I was made to be pg-13 because most of the time I have trouble trying to be rated-R. Do I think Viggo will steal the award for best actor in a motion picture from Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood, not at all, but his performance is stellar regardless and now I want to have sex with him using a Southern accent as well as a Russian one. Creepily, he lives around the way from me on developed horse property (we never took the horse buying plunge), and he is one of the few famous people I would probably get flustered over and secretly hope to run away with. On a white horse. Into the sunset. At the end of the world. As a tsunami wipes out Malibu. Whatever.

You know what I'm really in the market for is a new female friend in the LA area. I was thinking about it today since I got rid of all mine by the end of last year. It would be sort of cool if this friend could get it together and be willing to go long distance running, be able to talk about books and painting, pay her own way, and from time-to-time drink grown men into acoma. It'd be double as sweet if she had other friends and didn't expect me to come and hangout on the daily since I hate leaving the house. You know what, these are basically my requirements for a boyfriend--so if you fit in either category drop me a line because I do a great job of screening people and would like to have the opportunity to reject you.

2008-01-25T07:49:00.000-08:00

Today it's still raining. I guess for some of you a weeks worth of rain is not a big deal, but you idiots do not live in Los Angeles and have no desire to pay incredible prices to have perfect weather year round. Since I am doing this I have decided not to live wherever the fuck you are from with all sorts of terrible weather I am starting to go crazy. So here is a stupid video of me narrating the rain and that can hold you over until I decide to really post something worthwhile.

2008-01-24T04:59:00.000-08:00

Last night my brother, sister and myself sat around telling my mother some of our drinking stories. I especially enjoyed it when my sister said, "Sometimes you get so wasted that you think you can run anywhere, but after a couple of blocks you fall and get really angry at the ground and anyone that happens to see you and then you have to figure out your way back from where you came." Yes mom, sometimes we wander the streets like wayward harpies begging looking for more than just trouble.

This all started when my sister pointed out that we like to have drinking contests with men. Actually, I think her exact words were, SEND ME THE MAN THAT DRINKS ME TO DEATH AND I'LL SHOW YOU THE MAN I CAN MARRY, which eventually lead to the discussion of the fact that my sister is a hard core whiskey drinker and I can probably drink your Uncle Yusef under the table when it comes to vodka. You wish I was kidding. I am perhaps the least confrontational of the group because I like to turn into a kitten and makeout and then lose my mind thinking about the fact that maybe someone is going to die. Last week it was my dog and my sister said she almost had to beg strangers for some xanax because I began to flip out. I guess it's true, I do love my dog more than most people. My brother likes to get into really big fights and everyone knows it and tries to keep him out of them, too bad he doesn't give a shit that we do not want him to get knifed in a bar fight. The best part of all was when my brother and sister had left and I was sitting there with my mother and she was like, "Some people are like OH, MY CHILDREN, THEY ALL GRADUATED WITH HONORS AND ARE SAVING THE WORLD, but I gave birth to a bunch of crazy lunatics that want to drink you under the table and beat the shit out of you." I don't think she's ever spoken truer words.

2008-01-23T18:48:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my blog. Or not. God, the stories I could tell about San Francisco. I guess instead of incriminating myself I am just going to post a few random pictures and some video my sister took of our friend talking about how she is a cock sucker.

Even I get tired and need to pass out with cute little dogs.

I think it looks like I have a mustache in this picture. BEHOLD MY STACHE. I guess this means I get my face waxed this week.

This is the photo taken immediately before I had my first drink in way too long.

This is a photo taken sometime between Wednesday night and Thursday morning. I drank heavily for 18 hours and well into Thursday. At some point on Thursday I made a lot of phone calls and fell into the streets in San Francisco. I am a hero to all.

2008-01-22T09:51:00.000-08:00

Gosh, I have been incapable of forcing myself to blog for over a week. Now, last weeks absence is understandable as I was in a massive five-day long drinking and drug binge. Currently, I am at home and trying desperately trying to catch up on the writing I didn't do and super need to complete especially since I got into a fight with an unnamed hotel where I was probably charged a couple of grand because of some of the unsavory shit I got into. Also, during a blackout I went shopping and ended up with a louis vuitton purse, a bunch of dresses from moschino, and a ton of other fucking shit that i cannot currently remember, but ended up with anyways. Later on today, when I get a chance I will upload the photos I took and you can see what I look like while sitting on a bed in my pajamas in the middle of a drinking binge while the former publisher of Jane magazine makes out with my sister and says too much about himself. Then the next day I do an internet search and find out way more about him than he would have ever expected probably because he thought he was dealing with a group of stupid whores--too bad we're not the stupid type.

2008-01-11T16:25:00.000-08:00

I've been sick and haven't left my house, which is basically how I like things anyways. I left my car in Hollywood when I took ill and haven't even tried to go and fetch it because I am a raging neurotic mess and because who needs a car when they can lie around in underwear and moan about being ill?

Anyways, instead of being productive in this time I've sat around writing worthless blogs. I am sure each and every last one of you are super grateful. Here's the thing, tomorrow I am supposed to go to San Francisco and Sunday is when one of my friend's leaves Los Angeles to go back to Manhattan. Instead of being an actual good friend, I have refused to galavant her carless ass around because her car problems are not paramount to my entanglement with death. You know, there really isn't a problem. I am going to make her cancel her plans tonight to see me, and then I am not going to see her since I don't even have a fucking car. Man I am a spectacular friend.

Oh, and since I have been super close to death this week I've been having the craziest dreams ever. Last night, I dreamt I went to San Francisco and lost my foundation and went to Nordstrom's to pick up a new bottle. Once I got there I asked for a sample because I have more than enough at home and what is the point of spending another $50 on something I do not actually need? The sales girl does not give me what I want, but instead some shit ass product from Benefit but she takes it out of a magical case and wraps it in old receipts and tells me to go. Then I leave the store and putz around and am like IS THIS A SAMPLE, THIS DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A SAMPLE? DID I STEAL THIS SHIT? And I start getting really paranoid. Finally mall security picks me up and acts like I am some sort of FELON (I guess I really am in real life for some of the shit I have done, but I really am better than stealing because that is for poor people, for christ's sake). Then I get everyone I have ever known involved in it, including some kid I knew years ago that apparently never grew up and he is still 11-years-old when my mother has me call him for help and instead of being what gets me out of trouble, per the usual, my father makes some calls and hooks me up with a get-out-of-JAIL-free card. After that happens I tell myself to wake up cause I am sick of dreaming of being a goddamned thief.

2008-01-10T09:29:00.000-08:00

This is my sister Sam and I am pretty sure that she's some sort of child prodigy and I don't even care if you disagree because I know the truth. Also, I am fairly sure she is slightly deranged, but I will go on to explain that in a moment. Anyways, I do neat shit with her like explain the difference between ass and asshole and anything she asks actually.

Last week we were listening to the new Radiohead album In Rainbows and we were talking about the cultural significance of the album and Radiohead and then we get to the sixth song on the album, "Faust Arp" and she looks at me and is like OH MY GOD, THIS SONG. I KNOW THIS SONG. I WROTE IT IN MY HEAD LAST YEAR. Honestly, I did not know what to say to that other than, REALLY, SHIT I GUESS YOU SHOULD SUE THOM YORKE. I mean, really?

Yesterday, for reasons I am not clear on, I thought it would be a really good idea to read to her the F. Scott Fitzgerald short story, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons." For anyone not familiar with the story you are fucking illiterate, but basically Benjamin is born as an old man and he lives his life as he ages in reverse and there's all sorts of really important symbolism and messages that talks about how people are basically insignificant unless they are between the ages of 20 and 50. So as Benjamin approaches the end of his life he is a young child and eventually an infant. The way the story ends is sort of ambiguous, but Benjamin sort of fades away into the nothingness that is infancy. And Sam wanted to know what happened to him DOES HE DIE? Shit, I dunno, can you die before you are born? I guess I sort of like to think that he just sort of fades away and disappears, but I mean, here I go having another super serious existential conversation with someone with a 2nd grade education.

Anyways, we have another sister and she is an asshole, no not Gia, but THAT OTHER SISTER OF OURS THAT IS A COMPLETE MONSTER. Yes I have a million sisters. Anyways, I am pretty sure that Talia is going to be the cause of my parents deaths cause she is such a fucking asshole. And I happened to mention that I thought Talia was going to give our mother a heart attack and I was like GOD, I SHOULD JUST BEAT HER IN THE HEAD WITH A HAMMER AND BURY THE BODY IN THE BACK YARD. And then Sam was like YEA, I GUESS YOU COULD PLANT CORN ON TOP OF IT AND NO ONE WOULD EVER KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BUT WE COULD FEED THEM THE CORN AND THEY WOULD BE EATING TALIA. Uh, whoa little kid. Did you just try to sell me the ending to Secret Window? So I call her on it and she is like OH MAN YOU ARE TOO SMART! HOW DID YOU KNOW WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. Cause little kid, I made you.

2008-01-10T06:31:00.000-08:00

There are two parts to this video that make it absolutely awesome. When the narrator has Aaron Burr tell Alexander Hamilton, "Hey you're giving me shit. We got a duel." And when he slurs that Alexander Hamilton shoots Alexander Hamilton. Seriously, I am so amused by this that it is sad.

2008-01-09T17:07:00.000-08:00

First it rained and rained and rained. Then I took ill. I like saying things like I took ill and not that I got the flu and was about to shit myself and then came down with a terrible fucking debilitating cold that is irritating as hell. At any rate, I knew I was getting sick and my sister's solution was to start drinking whiskey to combat the physical demons. I mean, really, what's the difference between NyQuil and half a bottle of Jack Daniels? I'm probably going to need to drink about as much of both and at least with Jack Daniels I can mix it with ANYTHING and it will taste better than stupid NyQuil. I guess that means I should just go to bed and wake up early rather than stay up all night and write stupid reviews because I am sort of fucking dying. I guess this is the price you pay for awesomeness.

I never hate when guys I am flirty with read my blog until they question me about the fact that I have written about other guys. Here is the thing, even if I am dating someone, I will always write about other guys on here and probably never write about them. The only time I write about guys on here is after they are gone or if I hate them and do not know how to break it to them that the sex is great and dealing with them is like dating a rock. In fact, when I am dating someone I barely admit we are dating. If I do write about him on here it's usually because he does not know about my blog and even if he does I refuse to tell him the url. I remember one idiot I dated was like BUT WHY CAN'T I KNOW ABOUT YOUR BLOG? This was way back when I had the old one and I had to be like BECAUSE I SAY NO! And eventually he went searching and found it. I guess when you refer to someone in a degrading way to an audience of readers they fucking hate you. By doing this I realize I am writing about the guy that started all this by-proxy, but I also know this is not how he wanted to be written about. Oh fucking well, now I have written about you Justin so I guess this is where you get to be more important than like 765% of the guys I deal with, but seriously, what you said made me think and thinking makes me write so don't take it personally like writing about you makes me want to kill babies or anything.

Wowzers, here is an unrelated and obtuse subject change, it is a weird phenomenon, when your parents start to get older and you start to get older and everything feels like it shouldn't be growing so fast, so quickly. My youngest sister is 8-years-old and I like to have her tag along when I do things most of the time because I enjoy her perspective. But I also have to admit that I really like that she is a super tiny version of me that says absolutely introspective things and is a tiny asshole when she wants to be. I also realize none of this has any flow and I should probably talk about this one time I set some dude's hotel room on fire after I did all his blow and got escorted out of the hotel and asked never to return by a security guard that looked like he should be called Biff. But I rather enjoy walking with her, dragging my dog alongside me in a red wagon to get coffee. That's really the best part of my day.

2008-01-08T06:15:00.000-08:00

Oh my fucking christ, you know what can drive me to drink. Men. Holy fuck, if I stay at home non stop for two months, I am not tempted to drink once, but the second a man that I am like WHOA, HE IS ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY MANLY AS HELL--well, once I am invited in a demanding way to drink, I am getting wasted as fucking hell.

If you can read between the lines, I am completely in lust with a man that isn't even living in LA. And when he was like DRINK. DRINK. DRINK. I wanted to bare his children and drink the blood of native boys. Too bad the native boys thing had nothing to do with him...AWESOME. But I am in lust like I always am and I suppose the best way to deal with this is running and more self-induced starvation. Praise Allah.

2008-01-06T02:32:00.000-08:00

Well then, I took this stupid photo at the zoo in Waikiki. It sort of looks like something you would find on a fucking postcard. It took me like 45 minutes to remember the word for postcard so I guess you should all be elated by my awesomeness. I leave for San Francisco on Wednesday, but before I do I should like to get a fucking bike rack placed on my fucking car so I can continue to attempt conserving fucking gasoline.

Each time I go to the pump and I am confronted with $3.43 I just want to shank everyone in the vicinity. Good thing I absolutely passed out while writing that so I can continue my post with such grace and ease that everyone reading can be like THIS WOMAN IS A FUCKING PROPHET.

Now it is even later cause I had to go and run in the rain and yell at my friend so that she would do whatever I said. Please note that I do not respect people that bend easily to whatever I say or people that own magical eggs. THERE ARE NO SUCH THING AS MAGICAL EGGS. Moving right along, I had this insane dream where I was watching this fat ugly Italian dude in the mafia, and he's suppose to kill his girlfriend's brother, but he wants to sleep with some chubby blonde. So instead of killing her brother he tells him to keep his sister busy and somehow the guy does this by putting her in an electronics store in Brooklyn, but really it is just some brownstone building. None of this is making any sense. Anyways, the brother ends up preoccupying his sister. The mafia guy is out back in his Lincoln Continental with his blonde girlfriend and she is naked and he is naked but over him is a black sheet that has fringe on the edges. And he asks her if she is ready and when she nods suddenly the brother shows up and they announce they plan to double team her and then I was like WAIT, AM I REALLY GOING TO SUFFER THROUGH THIS DREAM BY HAVING TO WATCH FAT UGLY PEOPLE HAVE SEX. And then I stopped the dream and rolled over and went onto something else.

2008-01-05T03:26:00.000-08:00

I am mother fucking restless. I hate the rain. I hate this weather. It fucks with my entire body and I sit up and wonder if my bones are finally going to finish compressing into one another or am I just lucky enough to have this shit continue for infinity. Whatever. From time-to-time I like to go back when I am bored as hell and check the comments on my old blog and it is like A BAD ACID FLASHBACK. Here is a comment I got on January 3, 2008 and one of the leading reasons I ended that old blog, jumped ship and haven't really looked back:

44r "We make evil look good." Look how these wicked, immoral Manifest Destiny gangsters, the kind of individuals who planned WorldWarII, come across merely as businessmen. As they're doing with intentionally, strategically preditory personality baseball player, as they've done with Preditory Italian Company, who merely exists as a Manifest Destiny scapegoat for the blue chippers in the "eye of The Beast".
And they dirty up good, as we see with me, as we saw with Bonds.

And courtesy of M&A you do business with this evil every time you patronize corporate.
The Amish in Pennsylvania is the clue:::Set a goal of simplicity, strive for purity.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their "cheap tricks" are preditory:::poker, cars, boss, movies. Every item of the $50 billion is all designed to prey on the disfavored, a clue regarding modern popular culture and society. Perhaps not so "cheap" after all.
"You're going to throw this away. We're not going to be blamed for this." Yea, right. Like their assumption of culpability has got value.
The Final Prophet is merely a formality, like they gods are required. It's kind of like "Black off the books.wav":::An event designed to merely meet some policy requirement while ensuring the disfavored have no real hope:::Life in the ghettos of California.
The god's efforts to minimize my impact is consistant with their methodology, ascention becoming increasingly harder as time progresses, suggesting we really are approaching The End.

"We're going to enforce positioning." You better make them get their hands dirty AND BRING BACK THE 20TH CENTURY FOR THIS. Killing fucking niggers in celebrity clone hosts AIN'T no fucking fun.
I want guinea meat.
I merely want the same preditors who willingly hurt the people I try to help. I realize there was lots of magic employed, enabling things like monster arena tours, other all-consuming offerings to happen. But too many in these clone hosts were active preditors.
The Situation is VERY 20th century. Maintain consistancy, please.
But I won't hold my breath.

Brokeback Mountain says you understand:::Fuck off god.
Things I've ruined::::Midnight Madness. Note that to the gods both are merely cheap tricks.
Denying money is one of the goals of positioning in the Italians::::The gods used this evil to ensure the Final Prophet was not financed.
The gods took special but played for commoner. Now this Situation passes without affect because special is a one-way street. The gods instructed AI to deny my ability to be articulate. As a result people weren't receptive::::The "back-hand" was very real. The "help" was not.
I won't invest when absolute power must CHEAT to win. This IS the event. Learn.
I am disgusted the gods position absolution for themselves because it is their technology conducting this evil upon the disfavored. When the disfavored unders

If any of you ever wondered why I felt the need to start new just get halfway through that first paragraph and you will know for sure that I just got fuckin sick and tired of dealing with the goddamned crazies.

2008-01-05T02:02:00.000-08:00

I was going to talk about how I am supposed to drive up to San Francisco on Monday, but now it is going to rain until well into Monday and everyone that knows me knows Homie don't play that game.

God, I am a grownup and I really just typed that. I might be overusing stupid italics, but I guess I hardly give a shit so it doesn't matter. Does anyone here remember when blogging and bloggers were not fucking tragic and boring, but insightful and entertaining. Jesus, I haven't found a decent new blog and I probably never will since everyone sucks.

I do not drive in the rain because I am lame and neurotic and mostly because I choose life. Anyways, it is raining like the great flood here in Los Angeles, so I am sure that the news will be flashing end of the world warnings all over the place to indicate that SHIT IS WET.

I remember, earlier when I decided not to write about San Francisco I was going to write about something else that I cannot even remember anymore. I guess I should write about my total loss of memory, but that is without saying, ya know? Oh it doesn't matter cause I get to brag about how that physics professor is telling people that I am ruining his life because now he wants to leave his stupid girlfriend that looks just like me only she has absolutely no interest in quantum mechanics like I do. I guess I will busy myself with fucking up his world since I am fucking boring.

Holy shit, I remember what I was going to write about now--THE PERFECT RUNNING PLAYLIST. Don't get me wrong, but good music, the sort of stuff I like to listen to while writing is not what gets me pumped up for a 15 mile run or anything. Campy shit like Barry Mannilow's Copa Cabana is actually right up my alley, but really by mile 8, you don't actually care what you're listening to as long as it is loud and fast. I've been giving a lot of thought to the perfect song to start a run to and I've narrowed it down to Cherub Rock by Smashing Pumpkins. I guess all I have to do is figure out the correct order for the next 5 to 6 hours worth of songs and I'll be set for the L.A. Marathon in March, right?

2008-01-04T00:16:00.000-08:00

You know what I hate are people that are not filled with trickery. I bet you think that I'd want people to be simplistic and straight forward, but I actually enjoy people that are a lot of work. Actually, I love everything that is more work than it is, which is why I fucking hate most everything around me, which is why everyday Britney Spears continues to be my hero. HERO. God, the people that are like MY MOTHER IS MY HERO BECAUSE SHE NEVER GAVE UP, those people are fucking idiots. Britney Spears also never gives up cause that bitch was high as hell, fighting with the cops tonight about her giving her creepy children back to K-Fed for absolutely no reason.

God, check this out, I am not even all that great since I basically take a grip of sleeping pills if I want to get to sleep and now I am battling sleep I cannot control in a race against time so that I can finish two reviews and a fucking stupid blog. Oh man, I was just reminded of something I fucking hate. Christ, I hate it when anyone touches any part of me with their feet or if they touch my feet. FUCK OFF WITH YOUR FEET. This does not apply to pedicures or massages. In any other case do not fucking touch my feet or I will rip your head off with my teeth, I am not even kidding.

So I have finished my daily reviews and now my brain is shutting off since I took all my stupid sleeping pills and the inside of my head is as vacant as the end of the fucking world. Oh man, i super need to piss right now but I wonder if I can just fall asleep while sitting here and pee later when I wake up. God, if I try to do that I will pee and then wake up in a puddle of my own piss. This is getting old kids, and it is awesome.

2008-01-03T03:59:00.000-08:00

You can wonder. I can wonder too, right?

2008-01-02T01:02:00.000-08:00

Happy New Years to everyone I am happy that reads this crap and to everyone else I don't know and don't care about. This is not my annual YEAR-IN-REVIEW post, but more of a quick reflection. 2007 was an interesting year. I guess that is all I really want to say. 2007 was the year that blogging became more of a burden than a joy and bloggers everywhere started to become fucking infiltrated with lame shit like marrying other bloggers and bombarding the internet with lame shit like recipes. I am one of those people. 2007 was the year I decided to cut all ties with my old blog cause I was sick of my readers and my subject matter. 2007 was the year I gave up on giving up and decided to kill myself or write. 2007 was the year I realized I was not suited for a desk job and might as well buy a pole and start practicing for my stripping career before I ever go back to sitting behind a desk and taking orders from someone not nearly as good looking as I am. 2007 prompted me with the fact that I can no longer date men that are alcoholics, complete messes or bi-polar because I absolutely need some stability in my life and that has to start with the penis I worship. 2007 was the year where I decided I didn't want to be a drunk anymore because it was killing my body, stomach and mind. 2007 also brought upon the realization that all the men I loved had girlfriends and I never slept with any of them because the idea of complicating things seemed like less fun than fucking someone I absolutely hate. 2007 was the year I decided I wanted to get up off my ass and be something rather than sit around wasted talking about things I have done wasted that didn't get me any closer to being something other than a Britney Spears reject. 2007 was the year I decided I need people like Britney Spears in the universe so I can be reminded of the fact that I acted exactly like that lunatic for longer than I care to remember because I simply could and no one can talk me out of acting like a monster. 2007 was also the end of looking like a slut for me, sometimes walking around with your ass hanging out and your tits flashing the entire universe gets really old cause there is nothing left to flash when the time comes to flash it. 2007 was also the year I got sick of all my friends and they got sick of me talking about how much better I am than them to their faces and we all decided that we probably shouldn't be friends anymore--it was also the same year these friends were telling people I had all sorts of plastic surgeries because I started running and my fat ass melted off. 2007 was the year I realized I was sort of sorry I had 2006, but I needed 2006 to make 2007 a possibility. 2007 was also the year I realized my parents were getting old and that I have an 8-year-old sister that I might need to raise as my own and what sort of role model wakes up in a pool of her own vomit on the daily? In 2007 I turned 26-years-old and decided that I was getting too old to have abortions so I might as well stop having sex with idiots because I might just keep their idiot baby and later on get upset about it and drown that idiot baby in a sack down by the river. 2007 I finally got fed up with my PC and converted to a Mac and do not miss my PC at all. By the end of 2007 I realized I was happier being boring and calm than dancing on bars and waking up with a new idiot each time I went out. In 2007 I decided to dedicate myself to my art rather than to self destruction. 2008 is possible because of 2007 and viewers like you.

2007-12-31T02:23:00.000-08:00

Someone recently commented that I never post pictures where I am smiling, but I would like to mention that blogs are for miserable people and why would I want to fuck with the stasis of the blogging community. Fuck it. Here's a picture of me smiling like I am about to embark on a sexual misadventure with someone that does not realize I am about to slit their throat. Yes ladies and gentlemen, that's happiness according to Sabrina!

I remember having a lot to say earlier when I started this blog entry, but then flipping blogger crapped out and I could not upload photos so I got super pissed off and walked away. That's what you're supposed to do when you get violently angry--walk away--instead of throwing your new laptop across the room, right? So, I guess here are an array of photos I took while driving the other day. I was going through Malibu Canyon and decided to show what happens after it bursts into flames. When the first fire struck in October, Erin was in town. Basically, from the point where the fire ends to my front door is about 5 miles. Once the fire gets far enough down the canyon, my house will burn, burn, burn. I guess since firefighters continue to do their job I am not currently homeless.

2007-12-28T10:18:00.000-08:00

Oh lord, I like how I try to explain how things will go down to people and they continue to try my patience. Here's an example of two things: I am an asshole, you cannot reason with me. A really good friend of mine is in LA on her break from law school. I guess I am supposed to go out of my way to see her, and I will, if she does what I say on my terms. God, if I am like this with a friend, imagine how I refuse to bend in a relationship. Anyways, I keep telling her that it is more convenient for me to meet with her for breakfast or lunch since my time on the party circle is pretty much up and I try not to be out all night when I can be home fucking around or sleeping. So I keep leaving messages saying let's meet for breakfast and she keeps calling back leaving messages asking what I am up to for the evening. It is sort of like playing russian roulette cause we both know eventually she is going to fucking budge cause I am an asshole and do not mind the idea of losing her as a friend entirely.

Oh, in other news, I am so boring I am writing about how I am a shitty friend because I am running out of shit to blog because blogging is boring and stupid anyways, but at least it isn't doing the work that I have to do because I am the world's laziest fucking person. So I guess this concludes the boring for today as I will eventually destroy this friendship like so many others while I fail to complete the work I am supposed to do and eventually get fired so that I can completely accomplish becoming the failure I have strived to be for so long.

2007-12-27T05:37:00.000-08:00

Welcome to half of my face as I try to multitask while driving and thinking about life in general. Please pay special attention to my collar bone area as I have been running and starving myself to make that appear. Some people might say that I am losing my mind, but I really fucking doubt that. I am just severely and acutely self aware, so take your opinions and fuck off.

Good god, some idiot that used to read the old blog IM'd me earlier today and was trying to be clever saying he reads my blog on the daily and loves how I always talk about being WASTED. Then I had to be like HEY STUPID, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CHECKED MY BLOG BECAUSE THAT BLOG IS DEAD. Eventually, I logic indicated that I was dealing with a moron that was apparently bored during the holiday season. I am not for sure the point of this rant other than consider yourself really fucking lucky cause I am so glad to be rid of the majority of my readers that starting this new blog was like getting the cancer free zone flag from a doctor or something.

Earlier, I finally watched P.T. Anderson's super epic film, There Will Be Blood, and it was spectacular in so many ways that you should probably just check out my review on Critics Rant later to get the actual scope of the film. I would like to address one minor incident in the film, that on a personal level, made the film extremely poignant for me PERSONALLY. There is a point where Daniel Day Lewis is speaking with the man he believes to be his brother and he says that he has a competition in himself that he cannot shake and that it is not just about winning but watching others lose. I understood this in a way that I cannot even begin to explain, but it made me really reflect on the fact that the only men I ever want are the ones already with women. Obtaining them is more than just having them for yourself, but taking them from someone else and fucking up their sense of happiness and stability. In that way, everyone loses but you. I guess even you lose in the end if you're playing that game, but winning is one sided and all point-of-view. If I feel like I am winning then I am winning and if I see you suffering I am winning even more. Someday I am going to write all this into a book that no one is ever going to buy and I will still feel like a winner because it took a lot of destruction to get to that point.

2007-12-25T04:09:00.000-08:00

Merry Fucking Christmas. In this picture you sort of start to understand the giant fucking deal that is Christmas. Strewn throughout the house are more than 500 red and green balloons that Gia, Talia and I wasted all afternoon blowing up. It finally looks like Santa shit merriment all over my home. Awesome. I am a really old lady and I am tired. I guess now I'll finally get some sleep.

2007-12-24T07:19:00.000-08:00

So I guess tomorrow is Christmas. What I really need to be doing right now is not blogging, but running and I guess I will get to that in a bit because I have not been running at all and I have decided that it makes me a disgusting piece of shit to sit around and write and not do anything physical at all. Ugh.

My sister refuses to sleep in a bed. It is sort of Custard's last stand or something, but she sleeps on the sofa and has been doing so for longer than I care to remember. Right now I am watching her as she kicks her leg out and says stop it to whomever she is dreaming of. I guess she is dreaming about warding off a fucking rapist. Hilarious.

Apparently, she also broke up with her boyfriend last week so she could end her double life. Maybe the fact that people like my sister and I lead double lives seems crazy to the stupid internets, but it makes total sense. Anyways, since I never leave the house I was totally unaware of this fact and ran into him last week and had an hour conversation where I acted like nothing was different and bullshitted about movies because, well, I didn't know. Regardless, I forget the point of this story and I am sure I had one before I stopped writing and went into the kitchen to make breakfast, which was Gingerbread Waffles and homemade sausage patties. I added chopped apples to the waffles, about a cup and for the sausage patties, she says to use ground chicken, but all I had was ground turkey and it turned out really well anyways.

I ended up finding the recipes via stupid fucking Rachel Ray. I hate her, but they were so fucking simple. Here's a mostly unrelated fact: My sister Sammy, the 8-year-old, fucking hates Rachel Ray and when she sees her on television she always says something like OH MY GOD, I WANT TO BEAT THAT LADY WITH A TIRE IRON. She's an incredibly well adjusted child. Right now she's eating and watching Kingpin, a movie for brilliant people that have absolutely no desire to better themselves in life and well, I am one of those people and I guess she is also. Awesome. In fact, I am not sure if this photo verges on child pornography or not, but we decided to take the picture as she is stuffed from eating, well she decided to take and I decided to post it. Also, notice today is monday, but she is wearing Friday's panties being a train wreck is in our blood.

2007-12-23T05:05:00.000-08:00

For Christmas what I really want is a claw-foot bathtub in front of a bay window overlooking the city. I don't even care what city it is, use your fucking imagination. I guess this tub should be in the same space as my bedroom and separate from the bathroom entirely. I guess I just want to be able to walk from my bed to my bath while people watch me and I watch them and enjoy the fact that I am inside and they never will be.

Since my Christmas wishes are absolutely so over the top I have asked for no gifts and am expressing this by explaining I plan to burn anything that is neither a super hot tub in front of a bay window or a speedy bag by Loius Vuitton. Anyways, I bet that tub will last longer and look better on me than a stupid purse. It's probably more money too. Oh well.

As my Christmas gift to you I've tweaked the stupid template here so things are not so fucking uniform and I am not so fucking disgusted with the layout. I guess you will have to put up with the fact that this is a huge deal and I am never going to give anymore than this so kiss my ass. Also, I have chosen to pollute this stupid blog with adsense even though I am pretty sure I have a total of 15 readers so I'll be happy to get paid sometime in 2010. Awesome. Too bad I didn't decide to do something like this at the height of my old blogs popularity. Oh well.

Jesus, maybe oh well should become my blogs new mantra. This is pathetic. What I really want are tons of plastic swans distributed around my front yard that light up at night and I can pretend I am floating along from my house while I continue to board myself up on the second floor like I am mother-fucking Rapunzel. Too bad I'll never let down my hair because I got too bored and chopped it all off. This is the glass ceiling and now I'm capped.

2007-12-22T04:29:00.000-08:00

Last night my sister almost made a really good looking man puke in his hand from what has been explained to me as the shortest drinking contest on earth. We are all very proud of her. Apparently, she's also been commenting on my blog via the name Boots. I am not even sure what that means other than she is always wearing boots and her friend Josh started calling her that and she's taking it to that level where I was calling myself THE AWESOME all day long in my real fucking life.

I haven't blogged all week and not for lack of trying or lack of material, but basically because every time I open up stupid blogger I am wildly suicidal with the thought of having to write one more word, and one I am not even going to get paid for. It is like a Shakespearian tragedy of epic proportions.

Christmas is in a few days and the best part about that is the fact that I am making 50 million snowflakes and I am dousing them in glitter and hanging them all over the house. Also, Christmas Eve is a bouillabaisse menu and I am not even sure what I am doing for Christmas, but my brother's friend Mike will be there because not only is he the cutest mother fucker ever, but he is the most gracious son-of-a-bitch. He stopped by for an impromptu dinner and usually, no matter what we cook everything from scratch here or what's the point in eating and I made baked rigatoni with a meat sauce I somehow made from scratch in less than an hour, with minestrone soup that I stole from Everybody Likes Sandwiches with pork chops I baked in apples with this weird reduction sauce I made on the fly and some salad with a dressing I also made up but it was balsamic based and had honey & dijon in it. Regardless, this kid got up in the middle of the meal and hugged me and was like THIS IS THE BEST PART OF MY WEEK. YOU'RE AMAZING. It was just, I dunno, nice. I think I have a picture of him at the beach, I should go digging and post it and be like YES, AND HE ALSO MODELED IN MILAN AND PARIS LET'S ALL WORSHIP MIKE. Whatever.

Everyone I know is showing back up in LA for the holidays and that's dandy and all, but really I just need to fucking write all day long for the next fucking million years to catch up on the work I am currently fucking missing because the writers continue to fucking strike. This is fucking devastating as is freelancing. SOMEONE GIVE ME MORE WRITING JOBS AND I PROMISE TO TURN THINGS IN ON TIME. PROMISE. Good thing we know I am a liar and a cheat. I am going to have to leave my house and visit these people and act all pious and shitty now that I am not into drinking and they will be like OH MY GOD, SHE IS SO INTO HERSELF. And I will be like OH MY GOD, I AM SO INTO MYSELF. And it will be all sorts of awkward until I can get my hands one heavy duty pills with side effects like prolonged erection and euphoria and I take them all.

I made a bet with my father that I could be married in 18-months. Worse case scenario I get married to ensure some idiot a visa or something. Best case scenario I get married for serious and get super wasted after and use it as an excuse to tell my dad he is an idiot while realizing he tricked me into getting married because he is super old school and thinks being 26 and female is spinster territory. Amen.

2007-12-14T03:08:00.000-08:00

Good lord, I am a vision of loveliness. I like how I can take a post about my little sister's birthday and continue to pimp myself. In addition to it being my sister's birthday it was also Erin's birthday. She is turning 14-years-old or something. Congratulations Erin, you are older than Britney Spears and not nearly as tragic. Maybe you should buy yourself a Maserati and then run red lights left and right while sporting someone's infants in the backseat like the accessories they were meant to be.

I guess I will get things done tomorrow because I have basically decided being depressed to see if that can grow my artistic capabilities by severe magnitudes is not really helping the rest of my life. Take today for example, I refused to get out of bed until I realized what I was smelling was myself and since I refused to shower for longer than I care to mention, that became my first priority and my second one was cleaning my bedroom, which had turned into trash heap central. I am sure the Trash Heap character from Fraggle Rock wanted her territory back anyways. What I need to do next is force myself into a schedule or structured day because sleeping for 35 hours and then staying awake for another 74-hours is fucking impossible.

2007-12-13T04:58:00.000-08:00

Please notice the red rocket on my super horny dog. I am not even kidding. Anything that comes into contact with me feels the need to groove on contact. I was going to write about puppies, children, Disneyland and Christmas trees, but then I saw the huge boner on my dog and decided to get some sleep. I'll probably resume daily posting--effective immediately.

2007-12-07T03:36:00.000-08:00

Good god, I feel like a scumbag for never posting here, but when you are writing five to seven-thousand words a day about crappy television you never wanted to watch in the first place, well, let's just say that a burnout could be in the mix at any moment. Whatever. So now I am running about five miles in an hour. I guess that is pretty alright, I'd like to make it to 10 miles in about twoish hours by next month. Don't get me wrong, I have no plans to rape the LA Marathon by running the entire thing until my face explodes, but I will probably kick its ass in my own way. Right. Being not drunk most of the time is sort of amazing. When I wake up in strange places it's because I went somewhere strange and decided to take a nap. I am sure everyone reading this is riveted.

That picture was taken in my front yard while the sunrose. Again, I am sure you are this much more excited to have a front-row seat at my very mundane life. Oh, I bet I could never have a mundane life if I even tried. I remember once I was at the cleaners with my mother when some lady was basically being rude as hell to whomever was working behind the counter. Eventually she turned to leave and my mom was like LADY, YOU ARE A CUNTFACE. Or something equally as bitchy. Clearly, this woman was not going to take such an audacious statement lying down so she started pointing at my mother and the two started a screaming match. My mother told the lady to take her finger out of her face before she snapped it off, a simple request. When the lady didn't my mother spat right in her big ugly face. The only other time I have seen a human being spat on in such a way was by my big, fat friend while wasted at a bar after someone said something negative about her corpulence. Needless to say, calling a fat girl fat is never the correct option. I think my point here was to highlight the fact that my people never take the smart, sane person's choice, but rather we indulge our narcissistic and histrionic personality traits by picking the option that is going to get us sent to jail.

Ugh, it is raining and I have to wake up in a couple of hours and go to the doctor. Creepily, I hate doing anything in the rain because I think of it as making bold choices during a time of impending doom. If you know about my current track-record regarding car accidents this will all make sense. If you do not know about that you're an idiot that never read my old blog. I will probably have to go because it is my annual pain killer prescription appointment and I need to get all hazy and fucked up for the next few weeks. God, this cripple is falling apart rapidly from all this stupid running.
This photo does not have anything to do with the front of my house, but rather going 65 in a 45mph zone while flying down Pacific Coast Highway like I am Clay in Bret Easton Ellis's novel, LESS THAN ZERO. Who am I kidding, if you spend more than 15 minutes with me in Los Angeles, you realize that I really am the female version of Clay. It is so wicked awesome. Stay tuned for my cover of NoFi Magazine's latest issue. By my cover, I mean, I am on the cover. It's our Gimme, Gimme More issue, it highlights gluttony and how everyone around has participated in gluttony in one form or another--can we say young hollywood anyone? If you're interested in writing a piece please contact me ASAP as I am trying to get things wrapped up in the next couple of days. God, being on top of things and crap is totally fucking disgusting. I really am going to have to take a ton of pills and wake up in a foreign city just to keep the ebb and flow of life.

2007-12-03T02:01:00.001-08:00

God, I cannot even explain to you how fucking boring I am. I guess I should find some loser and get married. That is how fucking boring I am. I guess next week I can start writing about how exciting burping children is and someone with an assult rifle can be issued to fucking assassinate me due to total fucking boringness. I also really enjoy how I post a fucking picture like this one with a post explaining how boring I am because it goes against everything I am talking about. Regardless, that is from Saturday night before I fell asleep at 10 pm because I am an old fucking lady. I stopped by my sisters work and some dude they work with that is hot as hell was like WHOA! WHO IS THAT? SHE IS HOT! DOES SHE HAVE A BOYFRIEND--DOES SHE WANT ONE? Uh sorry Mr. Ultimate Man Fighter Dude, but one man as dumb as you will never be enough for me. Yesterday, I ate at fucking RED LOBSTER AT 3PM. I was having dinner with the fucking geriatric people, waving at them and being like HELLO, MY PEOPLE, I HAVE ARRIVED. Yes, Red Lobster. It's like I died and was reborn 85-fucking-years-old. Amazing.

I guess I am only eating fish now because I am the healthiest bitch ever--so when my some loser marries me in the future and he gets the impression that I am the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary and then we have a baby with three eyes I can be like OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU UP TO BEFORE WE MET??!@@!@# And not be like BEFORE WE MET I RAILED LINES LIKE A PRO FOR FUCKING DAYS IN A ROW AND MAYBE THAT IS WHY OUR CHILD IS A MOTHER FUCKING RETARD.

2007-11-28T02:10:00.000-08:00

Now that I have written that I am super fucking jealous that I am a shitty writer and it's really set a fire under my ass. What the fuck is wrong with me? You can't even begin to answer that so don't even try. I'm soppy with sweat and too lazy to shower. I stink. Hello, I stink and stay up all night avoiding the writing I need to do because I hate having to do anything. What's worse is that I don't want to do anything unless someone is holding gun to my head and fingering the trigger. DOES ANYONE IN THIS HOUSE HAVE THE HEART TO PRESS A GUN TO MY TEMPLE AND CAUSE THE KISS OF INSPIRATION? Ugh. I didn't think so.
Here is the picture of the new kitten we ended up with. I am not even sure how we ended up with it, but we did. Here's the problem. It was entirely too young to be separated from it's mother and the other cats here are fucking wild monsters like the rest of us--so we've had to fucking sequester it. Seriously, you will know exactly what is up with your life when you realize that you've got to play mediator with your fucking animals. I didn't even bring this cat home, but it got fucking confused and thinks this is some subsequent chapter in ARE YOU MY MOTHER and follows me around everywhere.

It's not really a surprise to my family that I am getting paid to write because finally I am. Dur. Anyways, my father brought it up over thanksgiving and was like HEY, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE ONE OF THOSE BLOG THINGIES? And I had to be like ARE YOU CRAZY, I HAD ONE THAT I HAD TO KILL BECAUSE SOMETIMES YOU MUST KILL AND EAT YOUR OWN YOUNG FOR YOUR OWN SURVIVAL. Then there was an awkward pause and my dad was like COULDN'T YOU HAVE MADE MONEY ON THAT THING? And I guess he is right, I could have made money on it, but too bad I am a fucking shit head that was diametrically opposed to success. FINALLY, I WAS LIKE. IF YOU WANT TO MAKE A TON OF MONEY WE SHOULD INSTALL CAMERAS ALL OVER A HOUSE AND MAKE GIA AND I LIVE IN THERE. And for one second my dad really gave thought to it until my mother was like YOU DO NOT WANT TO HAVE PEOPLE WATCHING YOU TAKE SHITS ON CAMERA. And guess what, she's right.

2007-11-28T01:55:00.000-08:00

"My heart is in the yard like snow"

I wish I could take credit for writing that, but then again, I really could since I am a diluted asshole. I didn't write that. For reasons I am not clear on--the only person this will make sense to will be Erin--but my sister has a friend and while Erin and I were hanging out with all them he casually mentions his brother is getting his MFA @ Iowa and I was immediately jealous and curious. So tonight after running till my body turned into a crash pad I decided I needed to know what was so special about this idiot. His name is Ben Kopel and I suppose you can look up his poems if you want and it's surely worth the effort doing an internet search. The mere fact that I looked him up and want to e-mail him gushing with complements makes me want to iron my face flat. This should be fun. Here is the poem in its entirety. I suppose if he called me up out of the blue explaining who he is and asked me to run away with him into the sunset--I totally would.

Tonight,
-- by Ben Kopel

My heart is in the yard like snow.
I do not want this world to end.
In the ashtray
A bit of filter nothings.

The day we put her in the earth
The marching band stepped
North
And refused to yield.

I can’t even think
About the things I did that day,
Alone with a girl, awkward
Like a Jew in a tattoo shop.

2007-11-27T05:15:00.000-08:00

Hilariously, these are some of the photos I found while looking in the camera I forgot I owned. They are from my visit to Chicago earlier this month. Please take the time to check out the photo montage of the shit Erin and I can manage to get into. Also, take note of the fact that I never even knew I took these photos because I was just so fucking wasted. I'd like to call this collection: Alcoholism as Art: An American Bogie.

2007-11-22T08:40:00.000-08:00

Holy shit, I have been baking all night long because not only am I the prime minster of good health, but I am Miss Mary Sunshine & Betty Fucking Crocker all rolled up into one. I bet you wouldn't even believe I've given up drinking for pills and hard drugs. Forever. Right.

You know what I am thankful for? All my disgustingly tragic friends that do not look like Crispin Glover in Back to the Future. I like it when people run into me at 9am in a manic tailspin. Do any of you even realize that Crispin Glover is a Scientologist? Didn't think so. I'm not even sure myself, but my old crazy scieno friend used to talk about Crispin so I guess he is and if he isn't I am not going to lose any sleep over it because when a crazy person that believes in fucking XENU has the balls to call you crazy, well, you have to be fucking insane to the max.

And yes, that is a picture of me trapped in a glass box that I put over my head while wasted at a hotel and wearing their bathrobe because I was too trashed to figure out how to put clothes on. Those were better times. Anyways, Happy Thanksgiving and I'll see you once I have finished all the pills in the bottle.

2007-11-19T03:40:00.000-08:00

I wish I knew when I took this picture. I guess drunken blackouts are good for more than just forgetting anything you have done. THEY FILL YOUR LIFE WITH SURPRISES YOU WON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT TILL LATER.

So my laptop has seen better days. By the time you read this I will have hopefully woken up from my stupid pill induced haze and dropped it off. I totally dropped off inside my head cause I started writing this Monday morning and now it is Tuesday morning and I am wide awake and crazy as fucking hell. KILL ME. KILL ME NOW.

God, I guess I will finish writing my stupid review and then I will blog about how I never have time to blog anymore. The worst part is that this stupid thing is basically a labor of love so I write here cause I like to and cause I can talk about things like how I took a ton of vicodin once and got scared, while high, that I would get constipated and took so many fiber supplements that I nearly shat myself. This is my blog and I can rant if I want to--even if the subject matter is gross, especially when it is. Fuck, I should be running right now, but I bet I am just going to lay down and pray I die since it is already 8am.

Oh, I guess I should mention that every guy I have had a crush on in the past 50 years has been showing up and being like HEY I AM BACK, WHAT'RE YOU UP TO? Too bad I have not had any such run-ins with that evil attorney I wanted to sell oranges on the side of the freeway with. I am not even sure if that sounds romantic to the universe but I guess it does to me. But yea, these dudes are still in love with me. Good thing too.

Christ, I found this picture of myself after I had been drinking nonstop for a year and I was like a trillion pounds and I basically look Kathy Najimy. I am giving serious thought to posting that picture cause it turns out I am not embarrassed about the fact that I have battled my weight my entire life and being a fatso is something I've been. Also, the picture is hilarious and I had to be drunk while it was taken cause I am trying to ride a bicycle that is chained to a pole and I look like I am going to ride it rodeo style.

Now that my days are night and my night are days my entire life is fucked up. I have to keep it this way because I review these stupid shows immediately after watching them. The problem is, sometimes I don't even bother to watch them till 2 or 3am and I have to have them turned in by dawn, so I stay up and keep writing after I finally force myself to fucking write. I am sure you have stopped reading by this point due to the sheer boringness. I do not blame you for your lack of interest.

I am still in love with that Physics teacher. Last week he got high and told me his feet stunk and I considered it endearing. I think he's even still with his girlfriend whom he commented to someone I know when asked about her "OH I BARELY EVEN SEE HER." Too bad I barely even comprehended she ever existed. Truly the best part is that he once commented that he could never have a one-night-stand with me because I am the sort of girl he'd marry. I think he bases that on the fact that I get really drunk and fall down in front of him but am still able to talk about the theories behind quantum mechanics.

2007-11-16T00:57:00.000-08:00

God, now that I am the world's most healthy human being please bow down to my total greatness. Here is something that you should be jealous of--that dude from John From Cincinnati is in love with me--and if he isn't in love with me he is in love with my tits and that is enough for me. God. Anyways, remember how I said I was going to spend my entire life writing, well I guess I was a liar. I figure with a few fucking uppers I can catch up on my life, unzip my head and write until midday tomorrow. Too bad I hate fucking sitting still. Who said writing had to be done in one place. How long will it be until stupid Mac decides to create a device that hooks up to your brain and shovels the shit out of there into fucking print? God, that would be helpful. Regardless, I have two short stories in the old bean & a ton of tv & movie reviews to pen. I also have two different lists I would like to get done today, but let's face it, OK, I AM FACING IT AND I LIKE MONEY SO I GUESS I AM GOING TO WRITE THEM BOTH BEFORE I ALLOW MYSELF TO SLEEP AGAIN. AWESOME.

Anyways, I love this picture because I took it in San Francisco last year while on the drinking binge of the decade '06. Remember when I tested the powers of my liver to check and see if I could drink more than ten men and then I could. Yea, that was the year. Awesomely, I showed up in San Francisco on a whim because I am a nutty drunk that gets into cars at 2am after leaving a bar & agreeing to go on a road trip to God-knows-where. The first night there we had to subdue a man so drunk that he had pissed himself and allowed him to sleep outside in the fucking cold. Idiot. The second night we got so drunk we ended up wherever-the-fuck, taking a taxi because drunk driving in a city you do not know is almost as dangerous as drunk driving. On the way, the gentleman in the picture/city worker/Mexican man was making lude comments and gestures at us and then we all took out our cameras. Either he was afraid of flash photography or very famous in Mexico. Either way, he did not want to be photographed.

Awesome.

Shitty writing at 5am while watching Hope Floats and Feeling Lame

2007-11-13T05:58:00.001-08:00

I’ve been riding the bus two and from work for the past four weeks. Today, across from me sits inside out wig lady and in front of me, pee your pants guy. My car went missing a month ago and earlier the insurance company called to tell me they plan to continue to investigate the matter. I think about riding around with the inhabitants from the island of misfit toys for at least another month when the bus stops and people file in.

The first thing you learn as a young female using public transportation in the Los Angeles area is you’re better off having herpes. When people hear you’re stuck on the bus or the less-than-stellar metro they treat you as though you’ve acquired the ebola version of a social disease. It also doesn’t help that you smell like bus people at the end of your ride. Nothing says I have social magnetism like the stench of hobo piss.

While I run away with my thoughts a man walks up and tells me, “Move over, lady.” Actually it was more of a command. Usually, I would pretend to be deaf, dumb, mute or bitchy, but today I scoot over and make way for quite possibly the world’s rudest human.

I look out the window. The world is a magical swirl of colors and sunshine. I smile at passing cars. My face, a rarely watered sunflower, screams RESCUE ME FROM THIS HELL. I try vigilantly to ignore the man next to me, but he persists, “Where you stay at?” He asks. I turn my face to him, pouting slightly and say, “At home.”

As I say this, I finally get a good look at him. His neck’s covered with a huge tattoo of a spider. He seems to need a delousing comb and a good wash, as the collar around his white t-shirt is a brownish-grey and looks like it used to be the outer ring of a crop circle. Half of his front tooth has been snapped off & his eyes are flat, wide and alert. He licks his tongue over the missing shutter in his mouth, grinning at me, “Too bad you're cars gone and you're stuck riding the bus with people like me,” he places his hand on my thigh while flashing a knife with his other hand. He waits to see my reaction, pausing a beat, “Dontcha think?”

2007-11-05T23:02:00.000-08:00

Yo yo yo! What’s up? Hello! I like to eat pie and get spanked with a spatula. My name is cigarette taker. And that’s they way it is. If you fuck with me I’ll fuck with you. Yes ma'am. I’m done with this document because it sucks.

FUCK YOU ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

That my friends is a special message I found on my laptop from Erin. I was so busy being drunk or hungover that I didn't even find that until I left her house. Erin, do you remember writing that--did I write this? I fucking don't even know--the spatula thing sounds like something I would write, but I have no fucking memory of writing it. HELP ME DECIPHER MY ALCOHOL INDUCED DEMENTIA. I guess that is all I have to say about that cause I have been so fucking frazzled all week that I haven't even had the time or desire to blog--CAN YOU BLAME ME? Uh, I have no idea what that means, whatever. I guess this is where I tell you what I am up to these days and the bullshit ideas I am toying with. I bet you will all be elated beyond human comprehension.

I guess it is final. The news is in, I've decided to run the stupid LA Marathon. I like how in my own head I am like THIS CANNOT BE HARDER THAN BREAKING MY NECK OR LIVING THROUGH A TWO DAY HANGOVER. Really, it cannot. I am not even sure if that is big news or what. What is big news is that I am actually going to try and see if I can't start writing a short story a day for the rest of the month starting tomorrow. This means I am going to have to actually force myself into being productive and I have no idea how that is going to work out around the fact that the rest of my life is amazingly important and I have other shit to do & absolutely none of that shit will be getting drunk.

I guess if anything that will change my blog minimally cause I might actually end up posting the hack versions of the short stories or at least excerpts of them. Maybe. And maybe I will just post about the fact that I can spend 24-hours sitting on the couch, watching Law & Order re-runs instead of doing anything of importance.

2007-11-01T16:36:00.000-07:00

These are my real thoughts. Somehow I got a free trip to Chicago and I am taking advantage of that because I am not a fucking moron. SO I go to Chicago tomorrow in the morning and continue the chaotic bliss that is Sabrina anywhere near Erin--does this already sound like a love story or what? You guys are all idiots. After that I wanted to go to fucking Boston--take the train to Boston and fuck off over there, but it turns out the entire city of Boston is completely fucking booked and I cannot find a fucking hotel from the 6th to the 9th and that is fucking retarded as hell and I would like to kill all sorts of people because that is stupid as hell. So then I was like I guess I can fucking stop in stupid fucking Pittsburgh or maybe I can go down to New Orleans or something. Now I am sitting around trying to fill in a fucking time void and it is making me crazy. Fuck it, I am going to wing this entire next couple of weeks and who knows where I am going to end up. Amazing. I guess I am going to blog minus anger later, retards.

2007-10-29T06:50:00.000-07:00

I stayed up all night again, listening to Little Barrie by Little Barrie on fucking loop, making coffee and watching the sunrise--feeling very pensive when I am actually super restless. Let me tell you one of the things that happened when Erin was in Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago. She shows up on Thursday night right before the bars close because her flight was delayed about two hours. If you for one second think that is going to stop me and Erin you are a dip shit.

I got a hotel in Hollywood and we bought a giant Costco sized jug of vodka and proceeded to drink like it was the end of the world. It was amazing really. At some point these dip shits were downstairs at their car, which happened to be right beneath our balcony & they were sort of heckling us, but mostly trying to be flirty, but barely getting away with being fat, disgusting fucks. At this point we were so fucking drunk it seemed like a good idea to piss on their car from above. Somehow Erin hit her mark and pissed all over that man's SUV while my sister mostly pissed on my feet. PLEASE DO NOT FUCK WITH US, I DARE YOU WE ARE INSANE TO THE MAX. Later on we lost my debit card while going to get smokes and some homeless person found it and went to FOOD 4 LESS and bought probably $80.00 of booze. I've never even been to a FOOD 4 LESS because I am from Los Angeles and I only go to gourmet grocery stores where things may or may not be organic, but they are more expensive and that makes them better. Then we went back to the hotel and the LADY UPSTAIRS SAID SOMEHOW THE NOISE WAS TRAVELING THROUGH THE CEILING, which only goaded me to become louder and then I am pretty sure Erin and I took some pills, but if you ask me which ones it was I will never be able to tell you because by this point I was on auto pilot and had drank about half that jug of vodka, and maybe more.

Around 8am, we went to Asia de Cuba for breakfast and mimosas because when you get that drunk the best plan of action is to keep drinking. So we took in the views and shit (check the photo above) and then I realized my fucking credit card was fucking gone & I think I might have flipped out or not, who knows? I do remember wearing red suede shoes because I am cool as fucking hell. After that I do not remember much. I guess we got back to the hotel and I blacked out. That's all I have to say about that until I tell about how we used the blow taxi because no one could get ahold of a coke dealer, and if you question wanting to start a lucrative business in your area, go with the coke taxi because you can really gouge prices when some fucking débutantes want blow at 3:45 am.

So I guess I can tell the story, which at this point is actually a lore, but we'll call it a story--THE STORY OF BUCKETFOOT. I went to Catholic school since forever. The stories I could tell. I bet you're thinking about the teachers and priests that fucked the students, and you'd be right, but really, the weird people are the better stories. I was in 8th grade. My sister was in 6th grade and Bucketfoot was in 3rd grade. NO MATTER WHAT BUCKETFOOT HAD HER FEET SOAKING IN A BUCKET. I am not even fucking kidding. You'd be walking down the hall and you'd see bloody crusty feet walking to the nurses office with her bucket in tow. That year I got scarlet fever FIVE TIMES. I was also in and out of the nurses office ALL THE TIME. Each time I would go in there and be like I AM BREAKING OUT IN CREEPY RASHES WITH A SORE THROAT AGAIN! I'd be confronted with Bucketfoot. She never talked, she just stared. Anyways, I am not sure why I brought this up in print cause it is way funnier when I tell it in person and hobble around like I have a bucket foot. Anyways, my friend Katie was in the same grade as Bucketfoot, and we were like I WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO BUCKETFOOT? And Katie was stoned out of her mind and she was like BUCKETFOOT, SHE'S PROBABLY DEAD. I guess it is plausable, if your fucking feet bleed excessively and you always have to be soaking them that you could die from terminal bucket feet. Right?

Here is a terrible fucking transition. I found an old camera I thought I lost, I guess that is what happens when you suffer from alcohol related dementia and misplace shit all over the country. So I guess photos will return post haste, or as soon as I am not so fucking lazy that I start taking them. I am vexed about Halloween. If I decide to go out it will be awesome, and I probably should because I am not drinking all of stupid November because it is better to cut down on the drinking now rather than keep up the monster like stride into December where things get fucking scary due to the amount of parties I will probably want to attend. Whatever, back to Halloween. I cut my hair even shorter. It is in a very short bob now and I guess if push comes to shove I will dye it fucking black and hack some bangs in there and put on the gold sequins dress I have for no apparent reason and go as Velma Kelly from Chicago and maybe if you are lucky I will kill you and my sister, even if you are not fucking her, but just for continuity sake. Maybe.

2007-10-26T08:10:00.001-07:00

So I finished that list about shitty movies I love and you can find it here. You all can go there and sing my praises because I am a fucking genius. Oh yea.

I am still bloated from being so drunk it was necessary to eat my body weight in shitty diner food. Gross. I also bought an entire fucking cheesecake that I took home and will have to donate to charity because I will never fucking touch it.

I hate Fridays and openly boycott them. I guess that's why I decided to agree to go on a date tonight. Now before you get your panties in a bunch over the fact that I make "plans" relax, I will probably get so drunk that the bartender will have to call my sister to take me home so I have to wake up next to a stranger. Amazing.

Anyways, I don't even want to talk about that, or the fact that I somehow got fucking wasted by 6pm, or the fact that I found a beauty salon open next to the bar that serves booze AND is open till fucking midnight. OH MY GOD, YOU HAVE TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. Regardless, I ended up with a manicure, pedicure & bikini wax at 10pm. Living in Los Angeles is the best thing ever. And by the way, any woman that is like EEW A BIKINI WAX IS FUCKING STUPID. P.S. it doesn't even hurt and it hurts less than negative when you have a bottle of wine and then have someone rip off your vagina. Seriously kids, I should put digg on this blog only because I need phrases like "rip off your vagina" running rampantly throughout the internets. HA!

By the way, I don't do the total bare cunt thing because I am a grown woman and I should have SOME hair down there. Grown women get fucked by men because men know how to rape and rape is super hot in that sort of HI, I HAVE EMOTIONAL ISSUES WAY. Unlike molestation which is for priests and the creepy dude that invites children into his car and looks like the dude that plays Champ in The Legend of Ron Burgandy. Duh.

Oh god, why isn't abortion mandatory--seriously, some of the dumbest fucking guys I know are deciding to have children. Listen, if at some point in the last year you have been drunk with me you do not deserve to have children for at least a decade. PLEASE MAKE YOUR STUPID TRAMP GIRLFRIEND GET HER VAGINA SCRAPED OUT BECAUSE YOU HAVING A CHILD MAKES ABOUT AS MUCH SENSE AS FUCKING TOASTER STRUDELS. FUCKING FAT AMERICANS. Regardless, I advocate abortion and think everyone should get one--sort of like a fancy hat, it should be a rite of passage into adulthood or something. If you can manage an abortion, you too should be able to drive a car and eventually have your own child. Oh and if you have kids and you want to bitch about the fact that you have them and you are a cool person, YOU PROBABLY NEVER GOT DRUNK WITH ME TO BEGIN WITH--CHILDREN ARE THE END OF COOL. Maybe one day I will want to stay with one man and not because that man gave me herpes, which makes for the forced play, but because I actually love him. Surprising, I know, that I could have thoughts like that. And maybe after that I will decide to jump the boredom bandwagon and have a bunch of children that I can raise to be wild monsters that will paint their bodies and generally live like they're from Borneo or something. Regardless, I know two things about having kids and one of them is if you want one you need a garden, the other is if you plan to be a good parent you put your children first--but I am still busy finding places to get my vajayjay waxed at 11pm because I am my most important person. The end.

2007-10-25T05:06:00.000-07:00

Around 5am is when I like to test exactly how quickly I can write my reviews because if I stay up past 6am I am going to fucking stay up till like 1pm and then backout and tomorrow ends up being a fucking waste. I am not sure why or how I continue to pull this shit, but it's probably because I like to fuck off and stare at the wall for hours on end. Maybe I am turning into the narrator from Charlotte Perkins Gilman's short story, "The Yellow Wallpaper"--as an aside I would like to bring up the factthat I thought Kate Chopin wrote that short story and that is because I am a moron. Due to the fact that I like to double check shit I caught that fucking mishap before it occurred. I think the point of bringing up the narrator of "The Yellow Wallpaper" was to indicate that I am going insane, but I'm not going insane at all so fuck you for nodding immediately.

Here is something that makes me feel like a fucking loser. I cannot stop listening to Viva Las Vegas. I swear to God, if I get in my car to drive to Vegas anytime in the next week I will end up embarking on a solo road trip all over the US & the only thing that makes me think of is getting raped in random gas stations. I am a perfectly adjusted adult.

2007-10-25T03:23:00.000-07:00

I totally wrote this like 4 years ago. I have too much to do to write something. I have to get some sleep tonight. Fuck.

Dorkcus Clever. When she first told me his name I didn't think much. In fact, the first thing that came to mind was a thirty-five-year-old man that lives with his mother and masturbates to the underwear ads in the Sunday paper. Dorkcus Clever—fat, balding and impotent. Dorkcus Clever, immediately I imagine the love child of Marve Albert and Jackie Chan. When I think Dorkcus Clever I do not think attractive.

“When I met him I had flashes of our wedding and our children and our life together,” she clasps her hands together as if to punctuate her excitement. Her strait blond hair looks like a special wooden box hand crafted to frame her face. And as she says this I am silent. I'm busy contending with flashes of a hairy ape like man humping her and giving birth to a Neanderthal child. I realize her standards are kinda warped so I decide not to say very much. This is the same woman that used to write prison inmates because, “lots of beautiful mean end up in severe situations.” As if to say murder is “severe” not warped. I flash back from the looming thought of her child's protruding forehead when she becomes silent.

Usually, when someone pauses it’s not because they decided it’s time for a dramatic sigh, but rather because they want you to say something or show a little interest. I was most concerned with my thoughts of a heavy browed man grunting on top of her. She could probably do better. I decide to let her say something before I make a comment. That way there is less of a chance for me to sound like I wasn’t paying any attention. She tilts her head to the side as I cough uncomfortably. Karen picks up on my no so subtle body language and says, “So what do you think?” Well, in all honesty I think that spending the rest of ones life with a primate isn’t my idea of fun. I jump to flashes of future Christmas dinners. Dorkcus jumping on the table and ripping apart Karen’s carefully crafted turkey dinner. While their little barbarian children dance around in loin cloths, grunting at the wonders of fire.

“I think everyone deserves happiness.” I tell her this because it sounds like I care and I can avoid telling her he sounds like early mans answer to Corky from Life Goes On. “What’s that suppose to mean?” Honestly, I don’t know what it means. So I try to come up with something fast. “It means there is a shortage of good men,” here I pause and try to make it sound like I am being philosophic, instead of full of shit. “And he sounds like one of the last ones left. Besides, if you don’t go out with him how will you know if he is great or just a dick?” I intentionally refer to him as he. I figure in this case using a pronoun would work best because I’m not sure if I could keep talking if I have to say his name a lot.

“I suppose you are right.” I smile. Even when I’m not right—I’m right. This pleases me. “But I need to ask you a favor.” I stop smiling. This does not sound like the type of favor I am happy to do. Watering plants, feeding your dog, picking up a gallon of milk while I am on the way to your house. These are things I don’t mind. When I do them I do not become entangled in the details of the lives around me. I am free of friendship bondage. I like it that way. I want to let her know, but I don’t think she would take it very well.

“What kind of favor?”
“Well, I told him I would meet him this evening.”
“Ok.” I pause. She pauses also. “Do you need a ride?”
“No. He is coming here, to the coffeehouse. I just want you to wait with me and check him out and let me know what you think.” She says this and I can already see squatty little Dorkcus waddling into here and me having to smile and play nice when I want to vomit at the sight of his extra thick glasses and horrible hygiene. In a regular situation I would make an excuse regarding work, or ill health and talk my way out of becoming the third wheel on the motorcycle from hell. If I want to get out of this I’m gonna have to be honest and tell her why. That just isn’t a pliable option. Telling your friend that you don’t want to wait around and meet the chromosomally challenged love of her life because it’s impinges on your inability to become more than surface issue friends, probably won’t go over so well. I wonder if he is even housebroken.

“Are you asking me to chaperone your date?”
“No. Of course not. I’m not fourteen.”
“I know that, but it seems an awful lot like you want to use me as a buffer. If he is that bad then why bother to see him at all?”
“I’m not saying that. I just. I just wanted someone here.”

Things had suddenly taken a turn for the worst. Even if she denies being fourteen she made the basic plea that cannot be denied by women. It is loosely known as a cry for help regarding potential awkward situations. It means she likes you so much she doesn’t want to be alone with the guy. If Neolithic man was half as bad as I suspect she was gonna need some sense shaken into her.

2007-10-17T17:30:00.000-07:00

Oh god, I just remembered what I was going to write about, it only took me like 2 hours. Jesus Fucking Christ. Anyways, this chick I grew up with--she moved to Tennessee, got knocked up and had that baby. ALL IN THAT ORDER. Then she went and named that kid BLAZE. Just in case you all forget, BLAZE IS THE NAME OF A FUCKING AMERICAN GLADIATOR. I clearly wish I had more to say about it than that, but BLAZE is a name you give your gay lover or your kitten--YOU DO NOT NAME YOUR CHILD BLAZE YOU FUCKING RETARD. In other news, I think she's coming to LA and bringing BLAZE with her--it will take everything out of me not to call that kid a retard--especially since she has been known to bring that tard to fucking bars with her and hope he passes out before 11pm. THAT MY FRIENDS IS GREAT PARENTING.

Turns out I started this post at 1am and now it is 5:42am--this is what happens when you become extremely manic after writing like a machine for a few hours. When I am writing like this I can give up sleeping entirely. God, at this time of the day whenever I am still awake--most of the time lately--I sit around like a psycho and wait for anyone I know on the East Coast to get online so I can fucking pester the shit out of them. Pester the shit. Until someone unboring gets out of fucking bed I will enjoy my break by watching LAW & ORDER: CRIMINAL INTENT. Holy shit, I love Law & Fucking Order. I usually figure out what is up in the first 10 minutes, but then I watch the rest of the show to see who's going to be badass and what sort of creepy characters they are going to introduce to justify their weird plot twists that are not even that fucking weird. LOOK AT ME I AM RAMBLING.

Right now I am finishing up my movie list for Critics Rant the website I write movie & television reviews for. Today the list I am working on is entitled Critical Mass: Six Movies You’re Too Embarrassed To Tell Your Friends You Love. These are some of my favorite fucking movies. Still they are movies you do not throw around when you are around your posh film buff friends for fear of them shunning you for your terrible taste. These people are usually boring and worthless friends anyways. Here is the list I started with. I had to cut it down to six, but let's check out how fucking awesome these sorts of films are:

1. Cocktail
2. Cobra
3. Roadhouse
4. Bloodsport
5. Clueless
6. Problem Child
7. Point Break
8. Street Fighter
9. Showgirls
10. Sidekicks
11. Three Ninjas
12. Over The Top
13. Bio-Dome
14. Drop Dead Fred
15. The Ringer
16. Necessary Roughness
17. Under Siege
18. Tremors
19. Better off Dead
20. License to Drive
21. Adventures in Babysitting
22. Weekend at Bernies
23. Jason X

Uh, someday I am going to meet a man that will know the utter importance of these films and I will fall madly in love with him and the two of us will hang out in bed all day long and try to perform some of Van Damme's fucking slick ass kicks on one another as though we are superior Muy Thai masters. Then we'll have spectacular sex and while screaming amazing one liners from ROADHOUSE like "I USED TO FUCK GUYS LIKE YOU IN PRISON!" And then I can die happy.

2007-10-16T05:58:00.000-07:00

Let me explain my past 24 hours or so--I went out with this dude that does not understand that I am the devil and I am sure he is already in love with me because I got bored and was like I WONDER WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF I ACT COY, LIKE I COULD NEVER EVEN KISS SOMEONE LET ALONE FUCK THEM ON THE FIRST DATE. Turns out they decide you are even better than ever. Turns out I don't even care. And I left without even kissing this dude but somehow he was like I AM GOING TO GRAB YOUR ASS and I was like UH, WHATEVER. I like how I was like I GUESS I WON'T ACT LIKE A SLUT, but then I was like I GUESS I CANNOT HELP BEING A FUCKING SKANK EVEN WHEN I AM PRETENDING NOT TO BE A FUCKING SKANK. Oh man, I just took a sleeping pill, but I will get to that later.

Anyways, sometime before 2am I was like, I GUESS I SHOULD GET GOING BECAUSE I HAVE TO BAKE BREAD FOR THE ORPHANS or whatever I felt like saying and then I called up my sister and she was like WHOA, WE ARE HAVING AN AFTER-PARTY OVER AT THIS HOTEL--COME OVER NOW. So over course I head over there and we party till like 5am when I am like UH, I GUESS I WILL HEAD HOME BECAUSE I NEED TO DO SOME WRITING, PEACE OUT FOOLS. And then I go home and write (HERE'S AN ASIDE, I BET ALL OF THIS IS FUCKING BORING BECAUSE I AM BASICALLY FUCKING SPITTING BACK EVERYTHING TO YOU--OH GOD, I HAVE REACHED THE PINNACLE OF BORING I GUESS THIS IS WHERE I GIVE UP AND PRAY FOR DEATH).

Regardless, I get home and I am like OH, THIS IS MY SECOND WIND and I am wide fucking awake at like 7:45 am, but I am too lethargic/tired/hungover to leave the couch. By noon I was like SOMEONE STAB ME IN THE FUCKING FACE. And when I blacked out around 6pm I hoped to sleep until sun-fucking-rise. Too bad for me sunrise starts at 11:45 pm. So now it's 2am and I am building you the stupidest time line in the fucking world because I just woke up and I am taking a pill to go back to sleep because my life is a series of events incorporated with the use of pills for every fucking occasion. TASTE THE RAINBOW.

Oh, I just remembered why I wrote this post, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK UP YOUR SLEEP SCHEDULE SO BADLY THAT YOU HAVE TO TAKE A PILL TO GO TO SLEEP AND ANOTHER TO WAKEUP & YOU END UP WITH SCRAMBLED EGGS FOR BRAINS. Ugh, so last night my sister got really wasted and she was like ARN'T YOU HAVING YOUR PERIOD. ARN'T YOU BLEEDING LIKE THE REST OF US. Turns out I am not currently suffering from bleedings disease. I am sure all seven of you that read this are super happy to know this shit. And I am sitting in a chair and she is like OH YOU ARE GOING TO GET YOUR PERIOD IN LIKE 4 DAYS and then she started jutting her pelvis in my face as to give me period juju. And I am probably going to get my period and want to die. I like it way better when I forget I am going to get it unless I think I have to abort someone's baby like I am the DSL cable in the internet super highway of life.

2007-10-15T04:58:00.000-07:00

"I'll fuck your dog for twenty nickels!" God, whenever I am suddenly nervous those are the first words that come out of my mouth. There are circles where I am clearly known as TWENTY NICKELS. I guess that's all I have to say about that, other than when I am super nervous I turn into Eric Cartman and go around screaming that I fuck dogs or touch my cousin's wiener. Whatever.

I was recently reminded of something that happened not too long ago. I was looking DAPPER, mother fucking DAPPER as hell in the cutest polk-a-dotted frock with bright red heels while walking down Camden Avenue in stupid Beverly Hills. There are times when I wish I just blended into the background and this was one of those time. A troop of photographers, paparazzi if you will, were camped outside the building I had business in & as I walked by it was like a frenzy of the most sordid sort. I mean, I have had men scream lewd things are me tons of times and I have screamed back, but then none of them were carrying a camera so it could be blasted all over fucking TMZ. So I had to just sort of keep walking, even though I could hear some fucking asshole yelling HEY TITS, TURN AROUND FOR THE CAMERA. Hey fucko, how about you suck my dick. Anyways, as my policy goes I avoid reality television cause that shit is for dopes and dickheads. But let me tell you something, I never wanted to be famous and that shit solidified for me how much I never want to be famous ever cause it makes total sense why people like Lily Allen go nutzo and kick down a photographer. Those motherfuckers can be foul as hell.

Erin arrives in Los Angeles on Thursday. I guess that's when the posting will halt. I'll return as soon as someone posts bail. P.S. Erin and I have decided the most hilarious thing ever will be to fucking patronize Dr. Aric the Armenian Pharmacist (not actually Armenian, not a pharmacist) because he is still asking me out even though he says he knows I can never love him and I showed up to his house last week and when he went to make me a drink I ran outside, jumped in my car and drove away--when he texted me asking where I went I told him to get fucked good and proper. That was Wednesday. On Friday he texted me asking me to come hangout. WITH THE POWER OF THE TWO OF US THIS MAN WILL BE REDUCED TO TEARS IN NO TIME. That will happen after I demand he pump us full of pills. Please read my blog to your children in the tone of a church hymnal or prayer. Amen.

2007-10-12T02:43:00.000-07:00

I found this in an article about breast cancer:

Limit alcohol intake: Recent studies indicate that alcohol consumption, including the much touted "healthy" red wine, increases a woman's risk of developing the disease. Women who drink one to two servings of alcohol a day increase their risk by 10 percent and women who drink three servings increase their risk by 30 percent.

I guess that means I am going to die from mother fucking breast cancer. I was trying to do the math in my head to figure out my exact risk factor. I got pretty bored trying to figure out how many drinks I'll have on a casual night of drinking, but then I started to think about when I'd drink until I'd inflict a near death experience. That had to be somewhere between 15 to 20 drinks a night, maybe more. Well, think of it this way, I guess I'll need a double mastectomy by next year.

Anyways, speaking of drinking and the excess of it, why's it whenever you get crazy drunk and say insane/provocative/embarrassing things people will be like HEY, DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT YOU SAID LAST NIGHT? Uh, sorry I don't, that is why they call it a blackout. And you tell them you don't even care what you said--as to hint around that you do not want to hear it at all. And then they will be like WHEN YOU ARE READY TO KNOW, YOU LET ME KNOW. Gee thanks, but I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I said I like filling in all the blanks myself because if I cannot remember parts of what went on, then it was not shocking or awesome enough.

2007-10-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

Oh my God, let me take this opportunity to highlight you on the monstrosity that is alcoholism. I am so hungover that I cannot even sleep. I was lying in bed for like 80 million hours or something and then I finally had to be like FUCK THIS, I NEED SOME PEDIALITE, A LOBOTOMY AND TO DIE OUTSIDE BY THE POOL. So now I am outside by the pool letting the sun attempt to cook me but I am wearing a hat so fucking gigantic and leopard that it looks like I got it from the second hand, hooker rack from the day-after Kentucky Derby Sale. Fucking Amazing.

Let me highlight ya'll a few things that I am capable if you pump me full of enough alcohol and drugs. I can make my friend (and ex) try and leave his girlfriend for me cause I AM GETTING BORED at the bar. And then when I realize it is turning into some sort of sordid psycho-sexual drama I call up another ex that is scared to see me because I just about put him in the looney bin with my games and whatnot and make him come and see me. And then I get bored of that and act like I am going to take a phone call outside and I take off and pick up my sister and say things like WHOA, I AM DRIVING WITHIN THE LINES, THIS IS FUCKING RADICAL. And yes, I continue to use slang terms like "Radical" in my everyday lexicon. Tubular!

Moving right along, my sister and I find ourselves at mother fucking YumYum Donuts cause that is all that's open at 4am in the fucking creepy suburb I live in. My sister wants to know what to order and I rip a poster down and was like UH, I DUNNO, GET THE FRANKENSTEIN MIX IN THIS POSTER because the poster has a cute little Frankenstein with a million donuts around him and because at that stage of drunkenness pictures and pointing is pretty important in the communication game. While she goes inside to deal with that situation I go out and pis next to the dumpster behind YumYums. Apparently, it will take the little Mexican dude 20 minutes to figure out what the fuck a Frankenstein Mix is, but when he does you get like 8 thousand donuts that have orange and black sprinkles on them. What's even better is that brosef with the limited English vocabulary sees you between 3 & 4am almost nightly because it is the only place in fucking town to get a cup of coffee. The problem being, at 4am you look like the undead without makeup, wearing a baseball cap, probably smelling like ass and hell combined & are in man pajamas cause they are actually way more comfortable to lounge in. And it takes him even longer to realize the you in front of him in a leopard party dress and bright red hookerescent platform heels is the same person. Everyone high fives and then my sister tries to see if she can get him to get us high but he is ALL OUT. One of the many rockin traits about my sister is that she will solicit drugs from anyone in any way. Remember that time she got room service in San Francisco to get us high for free? Party time, EXCELLENT! It's around this time that I decide I am too drunk to drive or even walk and I insist on getting a cab because I am fucking cold and my sister is like UH, IT IS A 10 MINUTE WALK HOME SO JUST FUCKING DRIVE. So I drive home while my sister responds to a text from one of my exes that said something like DON'T DIE. I think her response was UH, I AM DEAD FROM TONS OF ORGASMS. THANK GOD.

2007-10-09T03:40:00.000-07:00

I guess I will write another blog because I need to hurry up and write five fucking tv/movie reviews cause that is what I am getting paid to do these days. I am not sure if I should even mention the website here because the last thing I need are people going there and arguing with the idiots that comment about all the different shows I hate. Basically my reviews can go two ways. I talk about how I would like to have sex with one of the characters and this validates my viewing experience as great! Or I absolutely hate the show and talk about all the people watching it are fucking retards that need lobotomies. I get in trouble for this sort of shit all the time, but I like to think I am some sort of mother fucking rogue and I enjoy getting told not to berate the readers.

I super love the idea of living on an island. In fact, I want to know who I have to talk to in order to get someone to allow me to live on Alcatraz. That place is equal amounts awesome & creepy. I bet I could fucking isolate the shit out of myself, scare the shit out of my self & get wasted as fucking hell to function do to the isolation and the fear. Someone help me figure out how to aptly make this happen cause I would totally throw some fucking rocking parties and then Michael Meyers could show up and kill all the people fucking and getting loaded. It would be amazing.

A post I need to write in the very near future is where I take all the "draft posts" I started that end up going no where and are like two lines and put them together as one post. I was looking at them and the total lack of continuity would be like my usual mindless rants, but on PCP. Awesome to the max. God, I am so fucking tired I should just take a nap till 6am and then get up and write and then go running. That sounds like a sound idea. Too bad I am totally against good ideas. I was hungover till 10pm and then I went to see Darjeeling Limited. I wanted very much to like this movie. I have to review it so I will keep things short, but you get to a point where shit stops being clever and eccentric and it is just like I GET IT, YOU THINK YOU'RE CLEVER. Really the best part about the movie for me was the fact that I went alone and I am absolutely terrified of going to the movie theater, let alone going alone. Oh my God I am a level of unstable that is both nifty and endearing. I am sure this is why men fall in love with me even when I am shouting that they are stupid spineless morons and I ask them to do shit like punch me out.

2007-10-08T17:33:00.000-07:00

I am not even sure what the fuck went on in that rambling mess from last night, but I will say that's what happens when I start taking pills and decide that nothing I consume to alter my state of mind is going to be ENOUGH. That being said, I guess I am going out with my sister to get wasted tonight.

I got wasted last night. Now it is today MONDAY I forgot to finish writing this and traveled far and wide. I guess will tell you about how children are creepier than humans. I do not know this from experience, but because my sister told me so. I guess last year she went to this daytime haunted house and all the monsters were like 8-year-old kids dressed up with fucking red corn syrup dribbling from their mouths. Turns out that undead kids are about the craziest scary shit ever because they take scaring the shit out of someone super seriously. They make hyper creepy noises and they touch you with their tiny hands and you have this urge to kick them because you are filled with the FEAR! But it turns out if you kick a kid as hard as you fucking can you will kill them and then they really will be the dead, undead. Oh fucking well. The part where my sister says that children are creepier than humans--well, I am not sure but I guess children are no longer classified as humans to us. Tah-Fucking-Dah.

Anyways, now that's out of the way. So Erin is coming to Los Angeles in like a week or 10-days or whatever the time line is. Regardless, she's coming here and I guess we are going to do what we always do and memorize millions of our viewing audience. And by viewing audience I mean the people that stare at us while we do amazing bizarre shit. Amen.

2007-10-05T23:21:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I am not as drunk as drinking 4 bottles of wine alone is drunk, but right now that is my drunk--fuck your mother. This is where I am both hostile and sexual at the same time. In this moment I miss the old loser I used to fuck not because I liked him and expected to spend QUALITY TIME with him forever, but because that moron knew how to fuck angry and hard. Too bad I deleted all the numbers in my phone or I would make him fuck me and tell him I still loved him and then erase him from my fucking life. Idiot. Yea. But as a drunk no one knew that I had his phone number would be so readily available in my bills.....

I have no idea what that even says before I made mention of the idea of calling him--which if you are a moron, means I called him--oh Christ, he is still in love with me, and I still miss the sex. GOD I SO MISS THE SEX SO MUCH IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL. Ok I don't want to have to miss someone to feel like something is wrong or right FOR CHRIST'S SAKE I JUST MISS THE SEX. THE BAD, DIRTY ANGRY HARD-CORE SEX. How am I going to make up for how I am dragging him back in--when I know I am running away for as long as that will take me--expect to make great sex in big anger and I will be back. God, I love great sex with anyone and anything cause I love great results. HELP. HELP ME. YES!!!!

Tomorrow I won't miss anything. Tomorrow I will be like OH MY GOD, WHY THE MOTHER FUCK DID YOU CALL ME-- BUT HE WAS ALREADY LIKE AHHHH CRAZY BITCH (he never said any of that) BUT I SAID MY TOTALLY HORRIBLE PIECE AND HE WAS LIKE "These are the things that you held back, why are you so angry?"

God, someone help me find an angry--fucked up man in Los Angeles to blame all this shit on--and some other man to help me pretend to want to get over it cause there isn't anything at all to talk about.

2007-10-05T01:45:00.000-07:00

Oh god, sometimes when I am alone I listen to the Lambada as loud as fucking possible and remind myself that I am truly a fucking loser. How amazing is that? Fucking amazing. I spent the evening watching shows I need to fucking review, but I am completely not in the mood to review them. Probably because I am still lagging from my master hangover. Jesus, WHERE DO YOU HAVE TO GO DRINKING SO THAT A STRANGER WILL BE LIKE, LADY YOU ARE FUCKING PISSED OUT OF YOUR MIND--HOW ABOUT YOU PUT ONE OF YOUR THREE DRINKS DOWN! Cause I would happily put that drink down all over his/her head.

After a night of heavy drinking I am like a fucking detective. I am not sure any of you other homos are like this, but I can wake up anywhere or even scarier I can wakeup in my own bed. Than I really have to be like HOW IN THE MOTHER FUCK DID I GET HERE? Then I have to be like what did I do and where did I go? Usually the quickest way to figure that stuff out is to check out what is going on with my shit after I take a giant dump that probably smells like vodka or whiskey. On particularly treacherous drinking binges it can smell like both. Then you really have to check out what is going on in there. USE YOUR SENSES. I mean, the texture of the poop can have a lot to do with why you are fucking dying on the inside. A good drunk shit is worth it's weight in gold. GET THAT POISON OUT. At any rate, I always find myself checking out what is going on in my poop so I can know what the fuck I ate. One of the things I notice when I get super wasted and am hyper-hungover the next day is how a lot of the food isn't even chewed. This means I probably got drunk like all hell and turned into a fucking gremlin and knocked shit over and shouldn't have been drinking or eating after midnight and when I decided to anyways all hell broke loose. Later on, it breaks loose in the fucking toilet. Oh lord, I am Captain Sabrina--Shit Inspector. I guess I will go back to writing my reviews now.

2007-10-04T09:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went running and I came home with this cute-as-fucking-hell bicycle. This is what happens when your memory is photographic and you are not suffering from alcohol related dementia all the time. You run by a bicycle shop and see THE BLUE BOLT with it's cute little basket (not pictured) and you tell yourself YOU NEED THAT YOU IDIOT. So you rattle off your credit card number from memory and then brag that memorizing it prevents you from saving yourself from shopping on the internet. Then you laugh and tell the kid working behind the counter that you are like a 30-year-old lady and he says something like THERE IS NO WAY YOU ARE THIRTY. And you are not so you shrug it off and tell him that you are going to look so fucking hot riding this on the beach to get wasted on, or you know, to and from the coffee house where you say you are going to write, but really you are just going there to meet men and get fucked in the parking lot or maybe the mens room. God, you are too fucking classy for words.
Ahh, and my hangover just kicked in so I guess I will get up off my ass and drink an incredible amount of pedialite cause that is what grownup drunks have to do to get through their day when they spend the entire evening double fisting drinks like they are Robert Downey Jr. On a more serious note, I am going to spend my entire day writing on this stupid computer and praying for the moment I visit a gossip website and they tell me that Britney Spears's bloated fucking head went into a store with no shoes or underwear and she melted into a giant fucking pile of meth. And if you try to tell me she is a drunk and not a meth addict--take a look at her. That bitch has the worst case of meth face I have seen since the last episode of Intervention. Amazing.

2007-10-02T17:23:00.000-07:00

I am a fucking dirtbag. No, seriously. Last night I went to the bar to meet up with friends and I did not even have to get drunk I just sort of fucked around trying to drink only two drinks as slowly as fucking possible when I noticed some tatted up dude with a blond chick and I turned to my friends and was like I BET YOU THIRTY DOLLARS THAT I CAN GET THIS DUDE TO LEAVE WITH ME BY THE END OF THE EVENING. And my friends were like UH, SABRINA, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DO THAT--IT WILL MAKE SHIT UNCOMFORTABLE. But while they were bitching and moaning about how I am an improper sort of whore I was walking by said duder and grabbing him because OF COURSE he was in my pathway. Anyways, I will spare you the details, but I had this dude leave the girl he was with and come outside and talk to me for an hour while this dumb bitch sat around waiting for him to finish his cigarette or whatever. Anyways, tonight he wants to meet up and I am like WHAT ABOUT YOUR STUPID LADY FRIEND. And he said OH, THAT IS JUST MY NEIGHBOR. And I retorted HOW CLEVER, YOU FUCK YOUR NEIGHBOR OR ARE YOU JUST OK THAT SHE IS FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU WHILE YOU SPENT THE EVENING TALKING TO ME OUTSIDE. And he just laughed. Oh God, he is a dirtbag too. Praise Allah for him having gotten my number.

2007-10-01T17:45:00.000-07:00

I am too lazy to copy what I wrote for XTX and paste it here. Read it there.

2007-09-30T04:06:00.000-07:00

Dear god, i have not been so classically drunk since forever. I love you all and my fingers love you all. fuck this my face has so much to say in the way of lonesome dove acceptance too bad my brain has lost the cognitive capacity to express itself.

the end.

Uh, now it is morning and I passed out after I wrote that paragraph. "lonesome dove acceptance" what the fuck was I talking about? Also, I like how it takes me an entire bottle of vodka to love EVERYONE IN THE WORLD.

Oh well. Also, somehow I ended up at Tara Reid's house last night. Too bad my sister decided I was beyond drunk and even though I was trying to steal shit she would carry my face out of there with such grace and poise that I am not even sure how we are related. Amazing.

Oh, and I do not love you all. Not in the least.

2007-09-29T02:52:00.000-07:00

For the past 24-hours I've been chomping down on pills like they're the free trail mix at my local, seedy bar. Congratulations Sabrina, this is the first step. Step. Step, one, two.

Inside my head I am like MAYBE I AM GOING TO LOCK MYSELF IN THE BATHROOM AND NEVER COME OUT UNLESS THE SUN TURNS TO MILK. And then I realize I am inside my head and I am locked in there and even when I purge and the inside splats all over the outside I am still there. Too bad I cannot get trapped inside someone else's messy mind.

I am like that crazy hell cube from Hellraiser. There are an infinite amount of ways to work me--twisty, turny, bendy ways. Depending on who is playing with me there is the possibility that they'll have their hands ripped off or maybe they'll unlock the pathway to hell. God, the inside of my head is not even hell, but between you and me personally I like to think I am so fucking interesting that heaven (if you believe in that sort of thing) is entirely too boring to house my thoughts or my person and that hell is my best option cause everyone knows that's where all the cool kids go to hangout and smoke while waiting for the lunch bell to ring.

2007-09-27T21:30:00.000-07:00

Today was my final day at work. This is the first time I have stuck it out and finished my entire two weeks notice. This is the first time I gave a two week notice and did not have my sister call my boss three days into it and tell them I fell off a cliff and died on impact, I got hit by a car or I stumbled down a flight of stairs and am in a coma. I am beaming grownupness all over the fucking place right now. I am not even drunk and having sex with a stranger to celebrate. In this moment, I exemplify everything I am not.

I used to home school a high school senior. It was like screaming OH MY GOD, I AM THE KEEPER OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE--AND IT IS SAVED RIGHT IN THE BOTTOM OF THIS BOTTLE OF WHISKEY! Mostly, I would show up and be hungover or still drunk and be like THIS IS NOT AN EXAMPLE OF HOW TO BE A GROWNUP, THIS IS AN EXAMPLE OF BEING AWESOME. And then we'd watch a movie and I would break down Old English text for him in layman's terms then race home to sleep off my hangover. Like everything else in my life, the glorious excess caught up with me and I woke up in San Francisco after a night of heavy drinking. Being fully functional in a blackout means making fully functional decisions about leaving town with other people loaded out of their minds and then escaping LA via the concrete coastline and waking up only to realize you've basically quit your job. I do the same thing with relationships. I am famous for breaking up with someone by merely disappearing from fucking sight. Only, I never make my friends call all the different men and tell them I am dead or dying. They have to decide that on their own.

2007-09-26T00:15:00.000-07:00

The worst part about writing here is knowing I want to write here and then feeling like I have to write here. Then sitting in front of my laptop chatting to every fucking loser in my buddylist so I do not have to write here. It's like holding a gun to my head but making the bed and baking a cake at the same fucking time.

Anyways, seeing as how the last two days were generally pains in the ass I feel like I should say something amazing and prolific. All I can come up with is that my past is going to haunt me. I can be tired all day long and dying to sleep, but once I get into bed there is nothing I want to do less than sleep. This is a game I have been playing with myself for years. My sister is the same way, she sleeps on the couch almost always.

There is going to be no running theme in todays post and probably very little continuity. Oh well. I guess I will let this highlight the fact that I am a hack & a poor excuse for a writer. Moving right along, I have been listening to the same song on loop for three days. I forgot all about it until I stumbled upon it Sunday afternoon. My sister made my listen to it all the way to San Francisco this past March. I think it was March, whatever. Anyways, I do not remember much about San Francisco. I got really wasted and had the highest bar tab I have ever had in my life. Ever. It was amazing actually that I even got it as high as I did. Shortly before I was presented with the bill I punched some British mogul in the forehead for bringing up my tits. I like how I will bring them up a trillion times, but if you bring them up before I bring them up I will slaughter you. I guess this song reminds me that I need to run away more often than I have been and maybe I will punch people in the face while I do it. Maybe.

2007-09-24T17:19:00.000-07:00

I like waking up in strange places. I guess I should being that I do it often enough. Welcome to my palace Blackout Wonderland. God, I was going to write and be all magical and creative, but it turns out I am just hungover. HUNGOVER AT 6PM. It didn't even hit until sometime after noon. So now I am sitting here at work and watching the sun move and teaching myself to tell time from it. OH MY GOD I AM SO AWESOME THAT I AM A SELF TAUGHT TIME TELLER. Anyways, Erin and I were talking this morning. I guess I am not quite a whore. Not quite a slut. I guess that makes me a whut.

Since when did fucking on the first date become paramount to knowing someone? God, I hate to admit it, but I don't really want to keep knowing you if I don't hurry up and fuck you and find out what the sex is like. Turns out that sex is super important to me and it can keep me around even when I am technically already gone. Saying this doesn't even seem trashy to me. It just seems logical. Who wants to spend 10 consecutive dates with someone and then find out they fuck like skittles? That just seems like fucking stupidity. Someone else asked me if I really thought that sex was that fucking organic and maybe there was more to it than BANG BANG BANG. I think this person is an idiot. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Naturally, it is way better when it just sort of works and there is that sort of extremely intense sextime wave that covers everything when you fuck. Anyways, I am one of those people that bangs first thinks later. OH MY GOD, I CAN HAVE SEX LIKE AN ADULT AND NOT FALL IN FUCKING LOVE--WHAT A FUCKING CONCEPT. I guess the point I am trying to make here is that I hate women. And I hate women that are like I HAD SEX WITH WHATEVERHISNAMEIS AND NOW WE ARE IN LOVE AND PROBABLY GOING TO MOVE IN TOGETHER. Oh yea psycho? I guess it is no wonder men are leary of women. We're all fucking insane.