Friday, April 14, 2006

bad friday

i hate poems. i hate spoken word fucks. and i hate PMS. but one day, a yr or so ago, i wrote a poem about PMS. and it pretty much encapsulates how i feel today. so poetry hating aside...enjoy!


I'm feelin' more crampy than bitchy.
but sometimes the cramps are a bitch.
if i'm feelin' more bitchy than crampy,
you might go and call me a witch.
but whichever way i be feelin'
i suggest you stay out of my way.
cause the cramps are a bitch
and i'll soon be a witch
and you'll turn into my fuckin' prey.


happy easter.

Thursday, April 13, 2006




i don't know what kind of gay gay shit has been going through my brain, but i seem to have forgotten one thing. happiness pisses me off.

we now return to our normal programming.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

thing to be a little bit more happy about #3

sexism.

my headhunter just called. my dream agency is hiring. and they're only hiring chicks. i'm no feminist, but at this point i'll take advantage of a little female affirmative action, in exchange for all the time i don't (and won't) get taken seriously.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

thing to be realatively happy about #2


growing up in so.flo. i only knew two seasons. hot, and fuck you. but apparently here there are 4 seasons, and we're in one called spring which is actually quite nice. back home at this time, when the heat starts to begin it's ascent back to 117┬║, flowers let out a last "fuck you" and promptly die. but here they look pretty like this one outside my apartment.

good god. somebody make me stop. i just got nauseated.

Monday, April 10, 2006

maybe the bottle's half full...maybe


this is my half assed attempt at positivity this week. this is a new thing for me, so bare with me.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

2 posts for the price of one


i have bad wine. bad cabernet that i knew would be bad yet i bought it anyway. i'm sick of nyc wine prices. i could get a drinkable bottle of cabernet in miami for 8-9 bucks. 12 bucks and it could be confused with slightly better than decent. which would explain why I usually drank a bottle of wine a night. okay maybe it was only like 3 school nights a week.

You guys think I would make a good stripper?

more uninsightful, disjointed blather

it's been the weirdest thing.

i had a job interview on tuesday. and this is not one of those, "im only taking this because i need a paycheck" kinds of job. this is a job that would sorta crank the ADHD (with emphasis on the H) meter to full throttle, causing me to run around my apartment in circles like a retarded excited child. yeah I want it. i want it like i want an IV of black label permanently stuck in my arm.

on the day of my interview, my phone vibrated uncontrollably at 9am. i thought about taking off my sleep mask to at least look in it's direction, but decided to just roll over and go back to sleep. such are the benefits of the unemployed. an hour later, i decided to actually grace the pre-noon day with my presence and check my voice mail.

it was the agency. the cd was sick and had to cancel. damn. damn. damnit to hell. but could i call them back?

"i know this is a little weird," the creative manager said. "but since CD can't see you today, do you think you could just come in and freelance?"

"but" don’t say it don't say it. don't say it. "you guys haven't even seen my book yet." shouldn't have said it.

"that's ok." what?

"CD fell in love with the email you sent us. i mean, really. he showed it to everyone in the office. so we think you'll be fine. you'll have your interview when you're done"

hired from an email. 2 days of freelance. before an interview. for a job i really want like i want a black label IV permanently stuck in my arm. no pressure. none at all. who's got xanex?

but something happened. montage gods took over. my previous job anxiety? it went as mysteriously as it came. i just swallowed it and worked. and worked. and ignored noise, ADHD tendencies, and i went home. and i felt good. and only got six hours sleep. and that was okay. the next day i didn't even get coffee till almost noon. cause i wasn't tired. i was overcome by pure montagelike motivation. ah, the things we will do for scotch.

"oh and by the way," the AE says as i'm leaving on the second day, "you just made yourself look really good. thank you for saving our asses."

so i went to my interview this morning, convinced i had it. certain of my success. wondering if the nurse who would insert my IV would be male instead of female. and if so, would he be hot?

"i've been talking to a few people" says CD "yourself included, to get some new people in here. we're putting a few teams together in the next few weeks."

the...next...few...weeks....

guess i'm looking at more miserably sober days.

now a normal, non-overachieving, non xanex needing, (seriously, who's got some?) individual might look at this situation positively. good email. good freelance. and they're hiring several people. it still seems good right? maybe to you. but I KNOW that no matter what kind of praise i receive from anyone working there, all it takes is for the CD to think, "eh, her book wasn't as great as i thought it woud be." or someone else to walk in with something better. and then i'm still stuck here. with that same goddamn stupid kanye west song playing in the background.

and now, sitting here, typing away in my empty shoebox, i just realized the rican's been out of town for 3 days. hm, didn't even notice. maybe that's because i've been so busy NOT BEING MISERABLE. maybe clios (if i ever fucking get the chance to work for any) might keep a girl warm at night after all.