Bees

Today the bees were going nuts for my dress. I had one on me while I was eating my lunch, and I got up and started shaking my dress to get it off, but it was too persistent, so I started running around the courtyard and spinning in circles to try and outrun it. It finally flew away. Of course, nobody knew there was a bee on me, they all probably thought I was crazy. A little baby walked over to me and started bouncing, as babies do when they dance. I thought it may have just been trying to get to my lunch (a scrumptious chicken wrap), but then I ran into this about an hour later:

Bees on Guarana: we're all fucked.

Allow me to tell you a story. I've told this story about a gazillion times, so those of you that know me have probably heard it before. But as Celine says in Before Sunrise, "I think I can really fall in love when I know everything about someone; the way he's going to part his hair, which shirt he's going to wear that day, knowing the exact story he'd tell  in a given situation. I'm sure that's when I know I'm really in love." I know yall love me.

When I was about 2 years old (not entirely sure what age, somewhere around 2), I was playing in the yard. I found a stick, and then I found a hole in the ground. Being the genius that I was (and am), I started poking around the hole to make it bigger. All of the sudden, a fleet of bees rushed out of the hole, and into my onesie (something like this). I believe I was allergic to bees (I haven't been stung since, so I'm not sure) so I started swelling up to about the size of Big Red Bird. Mama was gardening in the back yard, so she didn't get to me with the swiftness of a Cheetah on crack, but our dog at the time - a Golden Retriever named Samantha - arrived promptly upon my first voice-crack of a cry. She ripped off my onesie and pulled all the bees off my skin. I've been told several versions of this story, and everything thus far has been consistent (except my Mama says it was wasps, not bees. Details.), but I'm fuzzy on what happened next. My sister says Mama picked her up from school, and took her with us to the hospital. Mama says I wasn't hurt badly enough to go to the hospital; she gave me enough Benadryl to knock me out, and I was just fine. Either way, Samantha and I were my sister's Show-and-Tell the next day, and I ended up with an epic story.

Needless to say, I have a fear of bees. I mean, I don't freak the fuck out when there's a bee near me. I can calmly brush one off as to avoid getting bitten or stung, but my heart races and my mouth goes dry. I've made peace with the bees. They're necessary in this world: pollination, honey, awesome costume option... I just don't want them around me.

As of about a year ago, Mama is a bee keeper. I think she's got 9 hives now. Those bee hives are a few blocks from home, though, so I can rest easy while visiting. She's so good to me. I'm proud of her. She's saving the (non-africanized) bee population in Marin County, and helping scientists do good research on bee health across the country. PLUS I get free honey. Fun fact: local honey is really good for those with allergies, because it's got all the local pollens in it and allows your body to build up protection from those pollens before they can affect you. Unfortunately, honey from her bees are no longer local for me, seeing as they're 1500 miles away from Austin. C'est la vie.

Music Monday (Top 15)

A reoccurring theme has risen: Favorites. I'll be the first to admit that I normally use this word lightly, when talking about my favorite movies, music, books, etc. (Except food. Everyone knows Rice is my absolute and only favorite). I have several definitions of the word, in regards to different situations: mood, location, company, etc.

HOWEVER, there are a few songs that have withstood the test of time and have remained on my internal list of favorite things for a long enough amount of time that I can officially deem them favorites. Essentially, this is my list of songs that I (so far) have not grown tired of, and do not anticipate to anytime in the foreseeable future. So, without further adieu, these are the 15 songs I'd choose if I could only listen to 15 songs for the rest of my life:

"Moondance"

from the album Moondance

"All the nights magic seems to whisper and hush"

This is a constant in my life. Whatever mood I'm in, I can turn this song on and instantly feel at least 10x better. It's not about the lyrics so much as the instrumental elements complimenting Morrison's captivating voice. He could be singing in gibberish, or just humming, and I would still consider this to be my favorite song of all time. If it weren't called Moondance, I'd say it makes me want to dance on the moon, but now it just sounds corny and predictable. The music captures the essence of what it feels like to dance under the light of the moon. It makes me feel beautiful.

"(Sittin on) The Dock of the Bay"

I feel like I'm home when I hear this song. I know I just left San Francisco, and I'm supposed to be working on making Austin my home, but I know my place is in San Francisco, just not right now. I have to explore before I can go back home. When I hear this song, I'm taken back to the San Francisco Ferry Building, where I used to sit on the dock and watch the ships go in and out of the bay. I'd stare at the Bay Bridge and wonder where everyone was going, and about everyones life stories. I think about these things a lot, you know; what others have gone through to become who they are. I'll see someone drive by and I'll wonder about them. If there's anything sacred in this life, it's a story.

"The Con"
from the album The Con

I don't know what they're talking about. I know that pain, though. The kind of pain where everything going on inside your head - your emotions - really only make sense to you. You try to get it out, but nobody gets it. It's one of the loneliest feelings I can think of.

"What I Got"

from the album Sublime

"Life is too short, so love the one you've got; cause you might get run over or you might get shot"

I have this distinct memory of hearing this song in my Jeep (back when it was my mom's) with my big sister. I was singing along to some other song - probably something gangsta, cause my sister told me to stop singing it - and she turned this one on, and taught me the lyrics. I was probably around 8 years old. It was the same day my sister put her foot out the window and a motorcyclist drove by and pinched her toe, scaring the shit out of her. If not for that golden memory right there, I love this song because it helps keep me grounded.

"Don't Stop Believing"

from the album Escape

This song follows me everywhere. It all started about three years ago when my friend started playing it over and over and over in my car. From then on, I'd go into a grocery store and hear it. I'd go into a clothing store and hear it. It started playing on tons of TV shows I was watching. I'd hear a kid sing it on the street. I started watching Glee, and it was the first song they sang. I started going to Giants games last year, and it became their theme song...

I decided it was all in my head. It was probably playing everywhere before I ever noticed it, since it is a damn popular song. Then I saw this in my Spanish class today:

"Joy to the World"

from the album Naturally

"If I were the King of the world, tell you what I'd do: I'd throw away all the cars and the bars and the war, and make sweet love to you"

I used to sing this in Tennis practice. It got to the point where I got tons of others to sing along with me because I sang it every day. It kept up morale. When I feel like singing, I sing this song. This, or either of the Oscar Mayer commercial songs ("My bologna has a first name" and "I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener").

"Loud Pipes"

from the album Classics

"Dada dada dadadada. Dadadada da dadada. Dadadada da dadadada"

This song gives me goosebumps and heart palpitations. Ratatat gave the second best show I've ever seen (nothing will beat RATM for me). This song is pretty self explanatory. It's awesome.

"That's All"

from the album Genesis

"Just as I thought it was goin alright, I found out I'm wrong when I thought I was right."

"I could say day, and you'd say night. Tell me it's black, when I know that it's white."
"I could leave, but I won't go, though my heart might tell me so. I can't feel a thing from my head down to my toes."
"Turning me on, turning me off; making me feel like I want too much."
"Running around, staying out all night. Taking it all instead of taking one bite."

This is how all of my relationships, if any could legitimately use the word, end up. I get tired of people quickly, and they usually get tired of me even faster. We end up arguing about nothing, and obviously I'm always right (even though I know I'm wrong). I keep with it, optimistic that my head is just trying to push this person away and I'll get over it, but I end up completely numb. I don't like or dislike this person, now that they're a constant. So I abuse myself physically and emotionally, just trying to feel something again. This is why I don't do relationships.

"The Freshmen"

from the album I've Suffered a Head Injury

"When I was young I knew everything"

"I won't be held responsible, she fell in love in the first place"

"My best friend took a week vacation to forget her, his girl took a weeks worth of Valium and slept"

"For the life if me, I cannot remember what made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise. For the life of me, I cannot believe we'd ever die for these sins; we were merely freshmen"

"We've tried to wash our hands of all of this. We never talk of our lack in relationships"

"Road to Nowhere"

from the album Little Creatures

"Would you like to come along? You could help me sing this song"

Yes. Yes, I would like to come along. I grew up on this song. I grew up on the whole Little Creatures album. My mom had a very select few cassette tapes for the Jeep, and this was one of them. This, some Bob Marley, Joe Walsh, "Soul Sisters", Portishead, Aerosmith, and Shawn Colvin. That was it. All those, over and over and over and over again for years. I still listen to all of them. I still have no idea what the dude in Talking Heads is saying in half of his songs.

"Unwell"

from the album More Than You Think You Are

I can relate to the whole lyric, so I shall paste it in a scrolley box

All day

staring at the ceiling making friends with shadows on my wall.

All night

Hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep, because tomorrow might be good for something.

Hold on

I'm feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown, and I don't know why.

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I know, right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired

I know, right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be

Me

I'm talking to myself in public, dodging glances on the train.

I know

I know they've all been talking 'bout me, I can hear them whisper, and it makes me think there must be something wrong with me

Out of all the hours thinking somehow I've lost my mind.

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I know, right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired

I know right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be

I been talking in my sleep

Pretty soon they'll come to get me

Yeah, they're taking me away

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I know, right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me

I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired

I know, right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be

This song vocalizes my neuroses. Pretty much all their songs are relatable, especially those in Yourself or Someone Like You: Real World, Long Day, 3 AM, Push, Back to Good, Argue... I'm not ashamed to say I really enjoy Matchbox Twenty. I think Rob Thomas is a good singer, and [most of] their songs are golden.

"Under the Bridge"

from the album Blood Sugar Sex Magik

"Sometimes I feel like my only friend is the city I live in"

Ok, I realize this song is supposed to be about drugs or some shiiiiiiit like that, but for me it represents a connection to the environment you're in. Where ever I am, I find some sort of connection to keep me grounded there. In Auburn it was the train tracks. San Francisco had the hills over-looking the city through the fog. Austin, I have yet to find my connection. I think it might be the lake (river). I could sit for hours staring at the water. All of these elements are unique to the cities in which they lay. They may not be unique features in regards to the existence of hills, train tracks, and lakes in other areas, but train tracks don't have the same effect in Austin as they do in Auburn; there are no other hills with the same views as those in San Francisco; no other lake is like Lady Bird. I get a natural high from these features. I find bliss, contentment, and relaxation from them. I realize I'm a dirty hippy.

"Iris"

from the album City of Angels

"And all I can taste is this moment, and all I can breathe is your life. Sooner or later it's over, I just don't want to miss you tonight"

We've already talked about what happens in my relationships, but I find this song vocalizes how I feel. I find that when I'm in a relationship, I already have the mindset that it's over. It's a blessing and a curse. It allows me to enjoy it for what it is, and let myself flow freely; but also keeps me from allowing myself to make a real connection. I give my whole self to a person, without ever opening up. It leaves me feeling lonely, but stronger all in the same.

"The Girl"

from the album Bring Me Your Love

On a completely opposite note, this song makes me want to fall in love. Dallas makes it sound so simple, being in love. I love all of the songs on this album. Constant Knot almost replaced this song in my list, but I felt I needed something more optimistic. Wating... and Sleeping Sickness are both also beautiful songs. Go download the whole album. Do it now.

"Boston"

from the album Midwest Skies and Sleepless Mondays

"I think I'll start a new life; I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name. I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather."

Whenever I was feeling down, I'd listen to this song to remind myself how easy it is to just leave. Then, it was easiest to relate to this song because Boston is so easily changed for Austin (except for that line about the snow), but I find it still has the same stigma for me. I'm not planning on leaving, but it's comforting to know that I have the option. I need to be able to feel free.

And there you have it. My favorite songs.

5 Year Old Girl Kidnapped in Ingleside

This morning I was on my way to school - one of the few times I actually got up early for this task - and hopped on the bus without my daily dose of energy drink (go me!). I was feeling good: going to get to school on time, in a happy mood, freshly showered... my Tuesday best. It's always these types of days when something goes wrong. I just didn’t think I’d get accused of kidnapping and lose all faith in humanity.



On my bus was a child that I assumed to be the daughter of the man sitting across from her. They seemed to be having a family-esque conversation, so I thought nothing out of the ordinary. She was an adorable little thing: tiny asian girl, probably around 4 or 5, thin black hair in 2 pig-tails sticking straight up, wearing a yellow dress with pink flowers (even though it was freezing outside), and a hello kitty backpack. She basically had the sunshine beaming through her eyes and made me happy through her abundance cuteness.

The man she was talking to got off the bus, and she was alone sitting next to me. I thought this was very odd. 4 year olds don’t ride the bus alone; a public bus, no less! I asked her if she was alone and she stared at me blankly for the rest of the ride. Once we got to City College, the last stop, we were the only 2 left on the bus. I asked the driver if he saw the girl get on the bus with anyone but he brushed me away and informed me, “if I had a photographic memory do you think I’d be driving this damn bus as a fucking career? Go to school.” Good point, sir.

The little girl sat on a bench on the sidewalk, pulled her backpack around her body and clutched it like a life jacket. I sat next to her and asked if she had school today: blank stare. I asked her about if she liked Hello Kitty (it’s on her backpack, I’m not racist): blank stare. I asked her where she goes to school: blank stare. I asked her if she saw the last episode of Rugrats (granted, probably not the best question for anyone younger than 16): blank stare. Finally I just stood up and asked if she was hungry, to which she replied "I want Pizza."

I started to get really nervous. I don't know this child; she could be allergic to something, or directed by a parent to wait at the CCSF parking lot, or any number of things could be wrong with me hanging out with this little girl. I wanted to take her to a police station, but I didn't know where the closest one was. Was this an appropriate time to call 911? I don't know the phone number for the local police, so should I? I decided to take her across the street and buy her whatever she wanted from the cafe while I thought about what to do. My phone was dead, so calling anybody wasn't an option. Besides, I didn’t want to get police involved if this were an honest mistake of some sort. I tend to think the best of people, and I remained optimistic. My best bet was to continue trying to talk to her to figure out what she was doing alone.

While she ate her chicken fingers I tried again to get her talking, but nothing worked. Just blank staring. I stared back. She wasn't blinking, so I wasn't going to blink either. Her eyes widened, I made a funny face, she smiled and blinked. "Captain Underpants!" She chuckled, to which I shook my head and laughed. Now came the talking. The non. stop. talking.

"I know how to read, you know! Do you know how to read? You're big, so I think you know how to read. I read Captain Underpants a'cause it's really really funny. It's about a boy that wears his underwear over his pants! You're not a'spossed to wear your underpants over pants! [teeeheeeheeehee] What a silly boy. My name is Kiko but my friend calls me Bear a'cause she says I look like a care bear when I wear my shirt with the heart on it. You can call me bear too, if you wanted. I don't mind. I like your hat. Do you have a sister? I like big sisters a’cause they can give you ice cream when you’re not a’sposed to have any."

I asked her why she was on the bus all alone, where was she going? "To bring this to my sister a'cause she was sad." She went through her backpack to pull out a picture she drew of a bear hugging a flamingo, which actually looked more like a bear flossing it’s teeth with a fairly large pink string, but I treated it like the masterpiece it was intentioned to be. I asked her where her sister is and she stared at me blankly again, tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t know.

I asked her where she lives and she told me about all the soccer fields next to her house, and the big hill with a pond her dog likes to play in. I took her with me onto the next bus and we headed for McLaren, which wasn’t far. Once we found the soccer field she plays on, she led me back to her house where we found her mom sitting outside. She looked up at me and ran towards us, I imagined for a slow-motion type embrace with her once lost but now found child, but her face got increasingly tense as she passed Bear and came straight for me. I was dumbfounded when she began screaming at me, half in english, half in chinese. Bear was crying behind her mom with her dad holding her. I wanted to scream at her mom but I remained calm, even when she said she was going to call the police on me.

A neighbor crossed the street to asses the situation and I explained to him what had happened, and he translated to the mom. She accused me of kidnapping and I told her she was lucky I didn’t call the police and social services for negligence. She was lucky her daughter didn’t really get kidnapped, or worse. Any number of things could have happened to that adorable little girl. The neighbor thanked me and told me to leave. I waved goodbye to little Bear and went back to school.



I have a 5 year old little sister and I could not imagine her wandering around Ingleside alone, or even taking a bus alone. That’s insane. If something like this ever happens again, I am calling the police. I really hope Bear is ok because she is quite possibly the most adorable little girl I’ve ever encountered (aside from those I am related to, of course).



I am infuriated.

I crashed my sister's entire '80s wardrobe

Fashion. This is a word that to me means: stuff people hang upon their naked bodies to make them relatively less naked. Sure there’s “bad” fashion, Haute Couture, Target/JC Penny wear, etc. but I must highlight my favorite of all: Individualistic. Now this, to me, is a genre of fashion all on it’s own - it cannot be defined by one characteristic, or even many definitive characteristics, individualistic fashion is defined by it’s sheer lack of a characteristic definition. Case in point: a female in my geology class this semester (I say “female” because I feel uncomfortable calling her a Lady, Woman, or Girl because she is a] not classy enough for the “Lady” label, b] Not apparently old enough to be a Woman, c] Though she is not masculine, she is not feminine enough to be called a Girl).

**Clarification: I am in no way shape or form making fun of this poor gal. I do, in fact, admire her courage to stand out as much as she does.

This female (her name escapes me, though I’m sure I once knew) has her hair cut and died in the Skunk style that was popular with “Hipsters” and “Punks” for about a week last year, but it’s so damaged that she actually appears to have a multi-colored skunk atop her head. Her hair is died black (judging by the white-white-white paleness of her skin I must speculate her to be a natural blonde) with a darkish purple died in the mid section and blue adorned throughout. Did I mention this look is a mohawk? Yes, she does have the sides of her head shaved, but so shallow that it doesn’t feel right calling it a mohawk. Reverse mullet, maybe?

On one particular day I took a tally of her entire appearance from head to toe because it was just so phenomenally wacky that I had to remember every detail. In her left earlobe she wore a giant green rose earring reaching her shoulder, and in her right earlobe: a smaller red rose earring with purple ribbon adornment reaching her other shoulder. Upon her neck lay a thin black rope with a fairly large wooden cross pendant and several gold, black and silver chains tangled around the rope. On her wrists she had an assortment of small black bracelets amongst large black wristbands with white skulls. All these bracelets were semi-hidden by her black arm warmers.

She wore a black, velvet peacoat with marching-band-esque buttons and a bright blue fuzzy pen in the breast pocket. Hanging off her shoulders was a purple scarf with large pink polka-dots. Under the jacket she wore a white sweater with big black asymmetrical hearts sewn throughout, a blue-flower green-feathered shirt under the sweater, and a blue strappy tank-top under the shirt.

As if the chaos that was her torso wasn’t enough, Andy Warhol graced her with his presence in the form of multi-colored Marilyn Monroe patterned leggings and (I kid you not) soup can decorated ballet flats. Oh and I mean soup cans. Not pictorial, actual Campbell’s soup cans cut and pasted onto her shoes. On top of all that, she rocked some black, flowered ray-bans and a bright fire-engine-red purse.

I wish I could draw this out for you, but I honestly wouldn’t know where to start. If anybody out there wants to take a stab at it, I’ll let ya know if you got it right. It was a true sight to see.

Appointment with the prefix of Dis

Disappointment: the feeling of sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one’s hopes or expectations.

Yesterday I had one of those days. It began upon my alarm (this coming from only one of the 3 devises I set an alarm to go off simultaneously, seeing as I’ve been having trouble with A] the fact that my alarm on my phone decided never to work again and B] getting up in the morning at all). I had little to no sleep that night. I kept dreaming about my house (with me in it) being swallowed whole by a sea monster erupting from the ground in a volcanic burst and then swimming out into the ocean toward the Marianna's Trench. However it was not this that was waking me; I quite enjoyed this dream actually, this monster had a whole village living inside of it where problems were talked about and solved in a diplomatic manner. I met a girl there who loved adventure, and this monster was large enough to sufficiently travel around and provide entertainment for a lifetime, so we traveled and were entertained together, in more ways than one. What did wake me was the monstrous coughs caused by the huge buildup of flem in my throat from my week of plague. By the way, if you’re super sick like I was (and still sort of am) you should try “Wellness Formula” by Source Naturals, most likely available in a health/vitamin store near you.

I had a quiz in Geology that I studied super hard for, and was subsequently quizzed on shit I neglected to retain in my studies. Somebody please tell Asher Roth that a majority of people (at least ones I know) don’t love college, and furthermore, don’t give a flying fuck if he loves college. (Where does the term “flying fuck” come from? I’d love to join the mile high club and sometimes I feel like I’m flying while fucking...)

After my scholastic rendezvous, I got a key copied and then hurried home to freshen up for my big day. I had agreed to see a lady but was not sure if said lady would come to me, or if I were to go to her. Either way, I had to go home first to drop off my shit, put shit on my face, put together other shit, clean up my shit, and other homely duties. I received a text from the lady asking if I was working, to which I replied with my whereabouts, and then wondered why she was asking when I told her twice I'd be home. No matter, onward with the beautifying of my cranium.

After several hours past with no text or call, I realized just how much day I had wasted, and began to sulk into my abyssal loneliness while stuffing my face with pot stickers and cigarettes while watching old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy.

Fuck all.

Shenanigans of a newly aged 20 year old

I had a spectacular hazing into my twenties. As always, my day was abnormal, left much to be desired, and stumped me on the inner-workings of our dear departed universal thought glands. Despite the stigma surrounding birthdays, it felt like a normal day. I didn't get laid (which some may argue is not normal for dear Drea, but hey, I haven't gotten laid in a couple months, my friends), I drank heinous amounts of sparkling bitter alcohol by the name of beer, elected to play a game I'm not good at and continue to remind everyone playing that I am not good at it, drunkenly played on a play ground, and stole a watermelon from Safeway. What? Yeah. Haters gonna hate.

It began with brunch in the Mission at Andalu where I got Huevos Rancheros, because fuck it, I wanted Huevos Rancheros; I always want Huevos Rancheros... constantly in need of Huevos Rancheros. Somebody please get me some Huevos Rancheros! Mind you, I say Huevos Rancheros with a deep, sultry Mexican accent to further my exemplary appreciation for huevos rancheros. They were a'ight. The waiter said somebody complained about the salsa but I ordered it anyway, and hey, it tasted like fucking salsa. They don't bring you bread to start, they bring you fucking donut holes. Sold.

The rest of the day was pretty mediocre and not worth spewing out upon my blog canvas. Later in the night I got frustrated with the amount of people that didn't come, or even call me or text me or fucking facebook me a "hey, you're awesome!" or "It's your birthday, right?" Yeah. Fuck those guys. So I called up my home-girl and went on a drunken adventure through the blanket of night to squeeze out one little drop of memory from this failure. "Lets stop at Safeway, I wanna get you something." says Laurent; though when we got there, the fucking store was closed. There was a box of watermelons sitting outside. One left with me.

Geocaching Cont.

Yesterday we did it!

We set upon our route and found our pot(s) of gold!

Our journey began just paces from my Auburn abode, near a train track. Our excitement level was higher than ever as we searched the grounds and trees for our treasure. Ian searched, Kaelin searched, I searched - and I found the first cache. Inside was a car wash coin, bracelet, a butterfly eraser, and a purple pen snuggie. We took the coin, replaced it with a treasure of our own, and signed the log book.

Our journey continued for 5 straight hours of searching and finding or not finding. Out of 13 caches, we found 5. It was quite possibly the best sober night of my life! We were on a real treasure hunt! It was great seeing how recent some of the logs were in the log books. Some found the cache a day before us. We took some things, left some things, and signed "Tres Scumbrerros" on each (Cuatro Scumbrerros when we were joined by Cole for our second to last cache). The first two were found before dusk, though the rest were searched out in the darkness of a foggy night. This is absolutely an activity best done with natural light.

This activity is now my hobby. I, Andrea, have a hobby! Do I collect stamps? NO! Do I build model air planes? NO! Do I go on treasure hunts wherever I go? YES! Thank you Uncle Kevin for my flash light!

Love, Drea

Update: Today we found 7/9 caches in Auburn. We have so much more to explore! I ended up buying myself a GPS specifically made for Geocaching from Target for 69.99 afterward. Apparently the closest cache to my house in SF is 2100'.

Pop goes the trigger

Text from: Amanda
I’ll be there at 10

Class ended early. I arose from my sad chair along the side of the classroom. I was stuck among the rejects, the defectives that our fair school that has deemed unworthy of early registration; not until we establish and prove ourselves. I dropped my pen. 3rd fucking time I’ve dropped my pen in the past hour. How embarrassing for me. I grabbed it from under my chair along with my fedora. Someone complimented me on my hat; +5 self confidence. Too bad I won’t be able to add this class. Are this many people really interested in Geography? Let’s move on to Graphic Design.

“This class is not a computer oriented class.” Downer. Now I’m in the mission, alone, with nothing to do for the next two and a half hours. Cancun + beer. Time killer. Problem solved.

Trigger: A vein of Castro among the out and proud crowd. Surrounded by scandalous tattooed mongrels with permanent smiles - mostly. I feel like that chair: not yet worthy but trying so hard to be accepted. I m a virgin. That’s right Bailey & Hana, I said it, a virgin. I am in fact a virgin lesbian. Sure I’m a promiscuous hereto, but that’s beside the point: virgin homo.

10:15 - ID accepted. +2 cleverness. But woe is me, Amanda is not here yet. Time to hang out in the smoke room. Why is it that smokers are so much easier to talk to than other people? The fact that something like that can be so social boggles my mind. Nobody believes the “you’re cool if you smoke” persona. Quite the opposite, rather.

“Hey, some day I’m likely to have a hole in my neck and cost my family a ton of money in medical bills and funeral costs! Nice to meet you!”

“Got a cig I can buy off you?” I nod and begin the epic journey that is me searching my purse. While he waited for me to return from the depths of my purple Coach cave, I was informed of his lack of $1 bills or any sort of change and he asked if a magic trick would suffice. +8 awesomeness for this guy! He asked me to pick a card - I chose the 2 of spades - and put it back in the pile without showing him. He shuffled around while trying to make quick conversation, handed me a 5 of hearts and told me to look at it and then hold it face down in my hand. Then without touching my card, he told me to flip it over again and it was a damn 2 of spades. OMS (Oh My Science) this dude is wondrous. After he invited me on a 4 day trip to Vegas with him (which I declined) a woman in a white coat got my attention. Her name is Tammy. I was infatuated. She’s a fox and a conversationalist. Her smooth brown hair was tied in a bun and I appreciated how this accentuated her gorgeous cheek bones. And her neck! Is it wrong to be attracted to somebody’s neck? The correct answer is no. Hers is fabulous. She talked about living in Japan while in the Marines and how she’s shy and finds it difficult to approach people without the social comfort of smoking or asking for a cigarette (I’m melting). We talked and talked as more people packed into the bar area and the smoke room filled with that glorious film of amber colored atmospheric cancer. It was time to find Amanda.

Tammy came in with me and we ordered our drinks. $4 Corona or $4 Jameson & Coke? Obvious choice. Lets get sloppy! We parted ways as soon as I found Amanda. She was rather quiet, so I found myself peeking around the room for Tammy. Don’t get me wrong, Amanda’s a great girl. I’ve had a crush on her for some time now.

We infiltrated the VIP corner! A girl named Jessica was turning 27? Who cares. Jessica noticed me and her sister poured us shots. She’s cute. Jessica, not the sister. Well both. But yeah, Jessica. Birthday girl. We got to talking, but it was so loud and I was preoccupied with keeping track of Amanda and Tammy that I have no idea what we talked about, or when we started making out. I don’t like that term, making out. Let’s go british. Whilst in the midst of our snogging, Jessica some how convinced me to go with her in her limo.

“Where are we going?” I didn’t really care, I was already in the limo. No turning back.
“Fremont!” FML. Ok, don’t panic, I don’t have class tomorrow until 2. Plenty of time to escape in the... my my, Jessica is pretty. And a great kisser to boot! Her breasts are gloriously large. I got a little carried away and forgot there were other people in the limo with us. My bad. Upon arriving at Jessica’s house, we ravished each other. It was glorious.

I’ve been christened.
Happy Birthday, Jessica.

Side Note: Tammy, if you’re reading this - though I have not presented the greatest image of myself in this account - contact me!

Va' se foder

“What have you been up to, Jimmy?”

“Well, Melinda, I have actually been enjoying a nice constant tour of the city.”

“A tour, eh? You’ve lived here all your life! Please, do tell..”

“It’s rather simple, actually. I’ve been constantly on one bus or another for the past 4 days. The idea came to me whilst I was drunkenly walking around Potrero at 7am, when I suddenly got the urge to see the ocean. Granted, it was a miserable day and about to rain, but hey... I was still drunk from the New Years Eve festivities. Upon arriving at Ocean Beach, I saw it was raining and quickly changed my mind. I’ve been riding the bus ever since, just going to one destination and then immediately another.”

“You’re crazy, Jimmy!”

“You know what is crazy? The people I meet on these busses! Every type of person I could stereotypically conceive in my mind, and then some. I’ve been told stories about taxidermy, watched a man whip out his manhood and take a piss right there on the bus, got in a fist fight with a fancy business man, started a 40oz party in the back with a bunch of teenagers... I’ve been having the time of my life in these past 4 days!”

“But Jimmy, this must be an expensive lifestyle. Muni’s favorite color is green; favorite food is paper and silver; favorite day is pay day...”

“Good question, Melinda. I actually found a Clipper card on the sidewalk next to a small smudge of blood. It’s sad, really, how drunk some people get on holidays. I figured they deserved to pay for my joy ride through the city.”

New Years Eve: upon finishing my jubilant time at the playground around 4am, I managed to trip on the sidewalk, and take my walking partner down with me. Though I hadn’t realized it at the time, my clipper card had fallen out of my back pocket. I was occupied with the immense pain coming from the scrape on my knee and bruise on my hip. Somebody found this clipper card and managed to spend $35 in a little less than 4 days. I applaud your accomplishment, for I can only speculate how on earth you did so, but request the prompt repayment in full. I do not expect to receive my money back, so I also curse you with the wrath of a dozen colonies of fire ants invading your pubic hair.

Enjoy.

Wanna play with it?

So I could comment on the fact that I haven't posted in a long while, but I am 90% sure nobody noticed.

I could also comment on the fact that it's a new year, but guess what! Just because you're writing a /11 on your checks in stead of /10 doesn't mean that latina stripper you banged last weekend won't end up pregnant and knocking on your door next month. Speaking of which, Pablo, you're late on your child support and Katarina needs her cavities filled.

Anyway, in stead I choose to introduce the internets to my defining experience of 2010:

A warm winter night is not entirely rare in this bi-polar city of ours, and I begin my journey on one of these wonderous evenings. When I think of Broadway St. I picture strippers, dirty homeless men, dirty rich men, and basic shady 1970s pornography type environments; so when a friend asks me if I'd like to attend a soiree amongst this havoc of course I'd enthusiastically shake my head yes until I feel dizzy. Turns out he meant the other side of Broadway, so my bright yellow hot pants with pink sequins on the butt pockets, sparkley blue bra and see-through white top were just a little inappropriate for the high society birthday dinner at an $80,000,000 mansion. ($80,000,000!) Thankfully I had my Marry Poppins purse handy and pulled out just the right outfit for the occasion.

The house was monstrously gorgeous, so my boredom with the general attendees was satiated with tall ceilings, large garden, and a breathtaking view of the bay (thankfully it was a clear night). I had never had a martini before. Living in The Mission usually provides for some great beer bellies. After about 3 martinis I was finally ready to take my eyes off the inanimate objects around me and have myself a pointless conversation. My victim was a tall man with an epic mustache and soul patch (that is what that little patch of hair under the bottom lip is called, right?). After the initial "I like your facial hair" conversation, we got to talking about the armpit hair and epic stench that came along with it on this woman standing right in front of us. After about an hour of this nonsense, he got a little creepy. He started rubbing my shoulder, just casually mostly. That's when I started to notice he was a bit of a close talker. You know the type, don't you? The people that stand way too close while they talk? I was once told I am a close talker, but I must disagree! I found that comment to be quite insulting. Maybe I am. Who knows. Tell me if I'm too close while I'm talking, and then I'll know. Is it too close when your noses are touching? That's my favorite.

Anyways, the dude really liked to talk about how young I look, which is an entirely too obvious topic for me. Seriously stop it. I don't give a shit if I look like I'm 16. Get over it. Dude (which is his name for the purpose of this, seeing as I don't remember it) asked me if I was having fun. I replied with an unconvincing yes, to which he informed me there was something he wanted to show me. Now I am the kind of person that imagines the worst outcome of a situation before agreeing to it. As I was standing there, 4th Martini in hand (they were pretty tame), I imagined him taking me outside and whipping out his penis and telling me to touch it, which I don't, and he then proceeds to rub it against my dress as I walk back inside. He follows me, completely naked now, picks me up and throws me over the ledge. Seeing as we're only 2 stories up, I don't die, but my leg is broken and back hurts like a bitch. I try to get up and run, but my fucking leg is broken. My phone fell out of my pocket into the Jacuzzi (which is massive for an $80,000,000 home). Dude comes down stairs and pulls me by my hair into a damp cave covered in moss where he then turns into Gollum and eats my face off while making horse noises. My mother asks, "How did she die?"

This, of course, is not what happened.

I grabbed my friend Greg to check out whatever it is Dude wanted me to see. I made sure to watch for any change of facial expression to my decision to bring Greg along, but there was none. Dude still looked giddy and wide-eyed. I couldn't decide if this was comforting or even more creepy. He lead us to a door, which beheld stairs behind it. Walking down floor after floor (this is an $80,000,000 house, by the way. Did I mention that?). Finally we came to a large room that smelled like BBQ, piss, and laundry in one tantalizing perfume (in stores this June). This room had no windows, and an armored door featured in the middle of the far wall. Fuck. I'm dead. Gone. Bye bye.

Greg and I looked at each other and mouthed at the same time "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Dude opened the armored door, walked in, turned on the lights, and asked us to come forward. Greg was hesitant, but I figured why the hell not? We've come all this way, and I'm fucking curious about how sick this dude is! It could be like a fucked up TV show in real life! (which means I was scared shitless and my feet gained a life of their own as my head screamed WHAT THE FUCK). I looked around first, admiring the giant red ball in the corner, frayed rope hanging from the ceiling with a tire that doesn't seem to be for swinging, seeing as it was pretty shredded. 3 giant trash cans laying on the floor atop inconspicuous red stains was a great comfort to us.

We walked forward as Dude walked out

with

a

fucking

baby

LION!

"You can play with it!" took a whole new meaning in my fucked up imagination.

Sally McVey

Sally is modest and honest,
and fondest of August and May.

She lives with her mother and brother,
whom love her and hug her each day.

But whos to say a girl most jolly and gay
would never display dismay?

An expose* of Sally McVey may make you pray
for the old and grey US of A.

Though money was low it's funny to know
that Sally never lived slow.

She studied hard and kept good rank,
starred in plays, got a piggy bank.

It's time for college and she knows which one
will tickel her fancy and promise her fun!

But oh no! What's this? Financial aid has proven amis!
How can this be? She's got the grades, poise and plea,
maybe it was that C she got in Chemestry...

Loans, loans and more loans swallow her whole
now the bank owns her bones and holds her soul.

Graduation rolls around, a bittersweet noun
for the financial drown marks a frown amongst the applauding sound.

"Now what?" Sally asks her mother.
"Get out of this rut!" Her mother did utter.

A job interview provides a chance to start anew.
So she hopped on her bike, rode the turnpike
and bid her mother adieu.

A beautiful day to ride a bike,
a terrible day on the turnpike.

A car swerves a corner quite blind
and strikes poor Sally behind!
As she flies through the air, she says a quick prayer
as she feared her limbs would soon entwine.

The driver in fear keeps in gear
as he mutters a quick "I'm outta here!"
The car speeds faster far from disaster,
and on the horizon he did disappear.

Writhing in pain sally explained to the voice at 911
"I've been hit, and my knee is split
please hurry my arm's undone!"

The doctor was in and checked her skin for cuts, bruises and breaks
"My arm is missing, a leg dismissing, and my spine aches and quakes."

Sally recieved no assurance
as she remembered insurance
and the fact that she had none.
This would test her endurance
in the constant reoccurance
that matters of money had done.

Sally went home broken, outspoken, dismayed;
she left unspoken as a token of jade.

Deeper and deeper her rut had dug
Her mother would keep her till the reaper unplug.

Then one day, Sally McVey was on her way to pray,
untill a delay in her dismay brought her lips to say:

"Today is the day that my decay will allay and stray
for my fear is conquored and pain is doctored;
Today I find my way."
Through the bathroom door you may find
Sally's head from behind,
in the bathtub where she ley
a greusome and horrid display.

Sally McVey died today by way of cutting her veins;
in the dark she will stay, though her story remains.