Thursday, August 31, 2006

Smile, Asshat!

Since stumbling upon this blog, Holla Back: NYC, I've been absorbed by all these women's stories of sexual harassment. I can't stop reading them. The main point of this blog is to holla back at these idiots, even to the point of taking a picture to post on the site! Awesome.

Any woman who has left her house knows exactly how it feels to be just living her life and some asshat (my new favorite word) says something like, 'I'd bet you'd look a lot prettier if you smiled' or even worse, 'Damn you got some big ass titties.' (Both have been said to me while doing such outrageous, daring things like grocery shopping or walking down the street) Hell, I have enough stories to fill up a book:

~When I was eight years old, my sister and I were walking to Burger King and were harassed by a group of men working at an auto body shop. They made kissing noises and called us, 'baby'. I was scared even though I didn't quite understand why. It was threatening, no matter what their intent.

~I needed a tuxedo shirt for a catering job, so my friend Donna, recommended a tailor. The creepy asshole proceeded to feel me up for about 10 minutes while I just stood there stunned. Finally I said, enough and he stopped. Expecting outrage from my friend when I told her what happened, I was surprised when she said, 'Yeah, we've had some problems with him.' I wanted to slap them both.

~I was at a club in Paris and decided to sit down because my feet hurt. This dorky French guy sits down next to me and starts to chat me up. At one point during the conversation he asked, "Can I kiss you?" I told him no, because ewww. He then leaned over and tried to kiss me. I told him to fuck off and left which sucked because my feet really hurt! He kept finding me in the club and would start yelling at me in French and laughing. I am just glad I only know a few words of French.

~On my 18th birthday, my Spanish teacher told me I was now on his list. Being rather grossed out, I dropped that class soon after.

Ah, the memories...

Look at me and tell me I'm pretty

Look at me and tell me I'm pretty
Originally uploaded by Crimpop76.

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot as simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men...

I'm due to fall in love again.

---Dorothy Parker "Symptom Recital"

I get it. I'm an asshole and I deserve to be alone.

From snarky myspace emails to cat shit outside my bedroom door. I say stupid shit and I am an asshole. I get it. I have been put in my place.

I'm also drunk. On whiskey and diet rootbeer and vodka tonics.

I put on makeup and took pictures of myself to feel beautiful. All I feel is sad and alone.

I'm just asking for a little kindness and understanding. A little room to self-destruct. A bit of mercy in the end. A bit of love and patience.

We are all pitiful in our own ways.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Advice on how to feel "Sexy"

I'm feeling a bit morbid this weekend, because I've beein obsessed with this site on serial killers. This interview with 'The Vampire of Paris', Nicola Claux, was oddly interesting. This quote, in reference to his cannibalism, made me chuckle:

Anything else you want to add?
Yeah, I have a message for people who smoke, do drugs, eat junk food, and drink alcohol. You are slowly poisoning your blood. You draw the vileness into your lungs. Cancer ravages your veins. You have no respect for your own body and flesh. I saw many of you lying on the slab. You make me feel sick. Your body is a walking trash can. Your meat disgusts me. This is specially aimed at girls: Do some sports, quit smoking, go on a protein diet, take care of your arterys. You will feel a lot sexier.

Just another reason for me to have another box of Milk Duds.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Navy Men...

Navy Men...
Originally uploaded by Crimpop76.

Take a guess who my dad is...

(Hint: He's the one who looks about 14 years old.)

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Drowsy, Heavy Eyed, Lethargic, Sluggish, Tired, Drained, Worn Out, Exausted, Fatigued, Dead Beat, All In, Weary, Shattered, Dog Tired, Ready to Drop..

I’m forced to take sleeping pills. Well, no one’s forcing me but it’s as if I have no choice in the matter. It’s sleeping pills or up until 6 AM. I want to take the sleeping pills that cause violence and sleep eating. It’ll remind me of my childhood.

I used to sleep eat all the time. I’d wake up to melted popsicles still in the package or stuffing handfuls of cereal into my mouth. I was chubby back then as well. I think there’s a connection there.

I would also kick and claw people when I slept. That is when I slept with people. It’s one of the reasons I can’t sleep with anyone without high levels of anxiety. I end up with no sleep on the very edge of the bed resentful of my bedmate’s restful REM state. If it was a boy I was dating was sleeping soundly I would flop around to wake him up. I wouldn’t even have sex with him. How mean am I?

The sleeping pills aren’t working. I’d try booze but usually it’s about as good as sleeping with someone else. I’m just so anxious.

I also masturbate to fall asleep. But that’s just reminding me that I’m not getting laid. It’s like every time I masturbate I think, ‘Damn, I wish I was getting laid.’ I’m sick of thanking myself for good orgasms.

I try reading as well. I have a book in every room in the house. In the living room it’s Against Love: A Polemic by Laura Kipnis. In the living room it’s Atheism: A Reader, edited by S.T Joshi. In my bedroom it’s a mixture of Bukowski, Kundera and feminist literature. I also throw in a Cosmo magazine for laughs.

Now I’m exercising in hopes of reaching a somnolent state at a respectable hour. I also want to fight off a case of the big fat ass I feel creeping up behind me. (I never said sleeping pills made me clever.)

So that is the plight of my sleeplessness. Fuck you. :)

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Dawn of the Debbye

Oooo...I wanna do this!!


I received this myspace email the other day:

"hi beauitfull my names Rick i would love to talk to you. heres a little about me i love animals i love the outdoors like to travel. play sports. like to do alot of things.i love romance writing poems i am very affectionate love to cuddle and kiss. i have a big heart with lots of love to give. i own a house in Corona calif. and have a good job. well i hope we can talk soon"

My favorite is the "i love animals" remark. Something about that bothers me. I like animals but it seems like he's playing on the stereotype that women are so naturally nurturing that we will just drop our panties when a man professes his love for puppies, prose and affection. That, the misspellings and his declarations of security just make me think, ‘ugh’.

Keep looking Rick; I'm not the girl for you...

Saturday, August 19, 2006


~ Paris Hilton has a CD coming out soon. What's even worse? I like the first single "Stars are Blind". I like it a lot.

Discovery: I’m not the one to ask about music.

~ There are too many Pop Tarts in a box. Especially when you just want one.

Discovery: Craving Pop Tarts doesn't mean that you should actually buy some and consume them.

~ Having the cashiers know you’re on the rag as she rings up your tampons, two pound box of Milk Duds and Us magazine isn’t as humiliating as having your improperly packed bag rip apart and spill all over the floor.

Discovery: Self-check out stands are just a new modern way that I can show the public what a jackass I am.

~ Don't contemplate a blogging topic too long, because someone might jump up and steal it from you.

Discovery: I need a life. And so does Brian.

*Editor's note: It was brought to my attention that the sentence "Brian and I need a life" might somehow imply to readers that Brian and I have a romantic relationship, which we do not. My point was that we, as two separate individuals, need better things to do than blog about men trapped in vats of chocolate. I feel compelled to say that the only implication of romantic intention, subtle or obvious, was from the imagination of the other subject (not being me) in the afore mentioned, ambiguous sentence. I'm sorry for any trouble or confusion caused. *sticks tongue out and presents sloppy raspberry*

~ A few years ago, when he could actually see, touch and taste my naked body, he wasn’t into me. I put up a picture of my bare torso and all of a sudden he’s in love with me.

Discovery: Boys are silly.

Editor's Note: The 'he' I'm referring to is Steve, from previous post, "It's a Deal". Okay, Brian? *grins and laughs at the silliness of boys*

~ Rather than go to a party in LA on a Friday night, I decided to stay home, do my laundry and watch a movie.

Discovery: I’m old.

Monday, August 14, 2006

It's a Deal...

I'm not going to be online as much anymore.

I’ve come to this decision because it’s a big distraction from the main reason I made this big change in my life. I’ve had so many things happen to me over the last year and I’m still trying to process it all. It's turning out to be more complex than I thought. Plus, there are issues I’ve had to deal with most of my life, like depression and a poor sense of self-worth that are rear their ugly heads every once and a while. I just want to find out why I keep failing in my grown up life, how I can remedy this problem and cope with the rest of my life.

I moved back home to give myself some breathing space. Maybe that was too boring, because I found myself online most of the day. I found myself making my online life more important than my real life. Couple that with a case of the crazies every once and while, and it's bad times.

I haven't been online this entire weekend and it's been great. I found myself thinking of ways to make my real life better. I read good books. I made plans to get a job. I spent time teaching my friend Becky how to knit while watching "Buffy" reruns. I watched interesting movies and documentaries. I contemplated the existence of god. I thought of ways to be a better feminist. I napped.

The problem isn’t the internet, or my friends or anything else I would like to blame. It’s me. I’ve compromised so much over the last few years that I just don’t know who I am anymore. And doing this makes me feel like I'm on the right path.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

On my sleeve...

I'm finding that I'm obsessing about weird things right now, like how my friend didn't answer an email, so maybe he's mad at me (which wouldn't be unusual for Brian, but most likely not the case.) Or did my other friend sound "weird" on the phone, or am imagining things? (Most likely I'm imagining things, right Becky? ;) All of a sudden I'm worried about our friendship, but it's all selfish. I just don't want anyone to leave me. I don't want to be alone with myself.

I love my friends very much, but I end up focused on how they feel about me rather than dealing with what I don't like myself. Plus, I’ve always depended on others in my life to give me my identity, which is why I’ve been so unhappy most of my life. Now I’m almost thirty and really don’t know who I am, what I want to do or what I believe in. I’m finding that no one can go with me down that road of self-discovery and that is very scary. But I’m a grown up now and have to take care of myself.

So, I’ve been all about the freak outs and clinginess lately. It’s like I’ve lost all my skin and I’m really sensitive to things that didn’t bother me before. Please have patience and understanding.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Oh God...

Looks like Paris Hilton and I have more in common than our love of sons of Greek Tycoons.

Some tips:

  • At the three, six and nine month marks you will get so horny that you will want to shag anyone who stands upwind. Just wait it out and it will go away.
  • Astroglide and late night soft core porn will help you through those lonely nights.
  • Surround yourself with those who are also celibate. You can find them in Dungeons and Dragon chat rooms and elementary schools.
  • Just keep telling yourself that this is a choice and you can have sex anytime you want. Yep, just a choice. *sigh*

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Can't find words to describe...

I would almost like to be attacked just to hear him scream.

The Nutty Debbye Show

"Earth Girls Are Easy melds the best of alien-invasion films and musicals to offer great fun. Three aliens (Jeff Goldblum, Jim Carrey and Damon Wayans) crash-land in Los Angeles' San FernandoValley. A manicurist (Geena Davis) and her boss (the wacky Julie Brown) befriend the threesome, give them makeovers and show them the town... "

One of my greatest fears is that I'll have an adjective like "wacky" or "nutty" following me around for the rest of my life.

(And if anyone's wacky in this group of actors, my money's on Mr. Goldblum.)

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

If you're bored and easily amused...

Check out Movie Puppet Theater. This kind of geeky stuff really turns me on. Seriously.

Let's see...

I had a pretty good night. I went out to see my friend Jason's band, The Red Eyes. I saw my friend Mike. All was well.

Something happened at the show which illustrates how completely bizarre it is up inside my head. Another band played after my friend's and they had a very skinny lead singer who sounded like Siouxie-Sioux. I wasn't at all impressed at first then all of a sudden, for a brief moment, I fell in love with the lead singer. She was singing a cover of "Will you still love me tomorrow?" and I just wanted to jump onstage and start kissing her. Then I thought about my sexuality for a brief moment. Then I had this memory of the fella I lost my virginity to singing that song to me on our drive home from a post-coital breakfast at Denny's. Then I realized I'm not gay. Mind you this all happened in the matter of mere seconds.

Run. Run while you still can.