It feels like I'm growing at an alarming rate. It feels like everyone around me is too. I'll say it again: People are getting to be magic. It's 201 and 0.
CAKE FAILURE COMMA CAUSES OF. This was written in a cake baking book (what are those called?) of Beth Tom's. I made a great cake. I could write a chapter titled CAKE SUCCESS COMMA CAUSES OF. I won't. I don't know how I made a great cake.
That was just a warmup. Let's get to the stinky juicy center.
For my first trick, I choose Beth Tom. I am going to tell you everything I can think of. I want to prove that I notice and love others. I have been putting a lot of I LOVE MYSELF out there and let's find a balance now, shall we?
Beth Tom is always thinking. About improving, evolving, about art, about her daughters, Brian, her community, her place in this world, how to live well, how to play, have fun, slow down, delegate. It goes on and on and she will share all of it with you if you want to listen and you really should. This woman has got BIG IDEAS. Aim for the stars, hit the moon. She wants everything to be better. And she says exactly what she wants. She tells you what she needs, nonviolently, without any bullshit. Why just this evening she said to me "Chelsea, put the knives back in the knife block like this" and she showed me how she wanted it done and I remembered again why I love her. I get to live with her now and that is lucky because now I remember every day, sometimes two or three times.
Beth Tom raised two perfect angels. They are thinking, loving, strong women and they each deserve their own blog entries.
Beth Tom laughs a lot. She says honest and hilarious things all the time. She makes sensual, enjoyable meals. She knows herself well. She is very aware of how crazy she might sound to the squares but guess what, idiots, YOU are crazy if you can't see what Beth Tom is doing and where she is going. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking that Beth Tom does not know what she is doing or where she is going. This woman is always working. She can't stop. She pushes herself, she is open to being surprised, she knows her limitations and she challenges herself to Aim for the stars.
Beth Tom remembers Kenny.
Beth Tom always has a plan. Beth Tom has a plan for what she will do if she ever gets put in prison. But she also gets spontaneous tattoos. I don't know anyone else who gets spontaneous tattoos. She wants life to be beautiful and colorful and full of joy all the time, everywhere. And she is actively pursuing that which she sees in her imagination, all the time, everywhere. She can't stop.
Beth Tom, you are transparent. This doesn't feel like nearly enough, what I've said, but it will have to do for now because I'm tired and I'd like to get up early and have oatmeal and coffee with you. Thank you, good night.
February 9, 2010
February 8, 2010
I'm Such A Dick!
I love Tempe for this reason:
I got to leave and realize it is the same everywhere, I am always and forever Chelsea Monty. I remember looking in the mirror for hours, turning every which way, in my red bikini with my new awesome breasts. I think I was twelve. I was in love with my new awesome breasts in that red bikini. I still am. I had nothing but time in Europe. I didn’t know that I was becoming this person but I was. And being in Rome frustrated me because I was so close to being that person...but I was in Rome. I didn’t know that at the time. I came back to Tempe and I was in my best friend's wedding and I met Alex Petrusek (this fabulous little fox who makes me think about all kinds of things, so quickly, as if I were hallucinating it's magic we are magic I could go on but now's not the time) and I got myself situated and I finally was able to introduce the Queen of Tempe back to Tempe. And I couldn't have done it without Tempe. More specifically, without Hudson Manor, this exceptional neighborhood I get to live in.
I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. (the Queen of Tempe rises slowly from her seat) The Queen of Tempe has returned and she is the best one. Don't worry, she is a benevolent Queen. She hangs out with the Court Jester of Tempe, casually, in a trailer. She bakes cakes. She takes the light rail. She wears a tutu. She has a water star chart. She has a driver’s license. She’s reading five books at once. She has no money. She is joyful. She is listening and staring, hard. She is figuring things out like she promised she would do after she made that rice pudding. She moves quickly, processing and advancing, because she is incredibly smart. She still has awesome breasts. They aren't exactly new but they show no signs of aging. (I could go on but now's not the time)
I’m sorry I’m like this and it’s annoying to you but I must point out that it only annoys you because you hate your life. I recommend using fabric softener, it’s an easy way to start living the life of a Queen.
Please refer to the subtitle of my blog before you think about complaining to me. (that's the part where I'm such a dick!)
I bought four pairs of underwear today for $15. Do I have that kind of money? No. But I need my ass to look good in my tutu. Duh. It’s 201 and 0.
And to my mom, whom I have never mentioned in my blog before: I have a lot of love for you. You got me here. I already miss you.
This feels like an Oscar speech. (Now, Laxmi and Prakash and Aurora, go to bed!)
And one more thing before the music swells and they whisk me away....I loved greatly before I became the Queen of Tempe. I used to love you more than I loved me but now there's this shift and I'm not sure anymore. You will see. The next thing I write will be about you. It will be specific. You will know you are loved.
I got to leave and realize it is the same everywhere, I am always and forever Chelsea Monty. I remember looking in the mirror for hours, turning every which way, in my red bikini with my new awesome breasts. I think I was twelve. I was in love with my new awesome breasts in that red bikini. I still am. I had nothing but time in Europe. I didn’t know that I was becoming this person but I was. And being in Rome frustrated me because I was so close to being that person...but I was in Rome. I didn’t know that at the time. I came back to Tempe and I was in my best friend's wedding and I met Alex Petrusek (this fabulous little fox who makes me think about all kinds of things, so quickly, as if I were hallucinating it's magic we are magic I could go on but now's not the time) and I got myself situated and I finally was able to introduce the Queen of Tempe back to Tempe. And I couldn't have done it without Tempe. More specifically, without Hudson Manor, this exceptional neighborhood I get to live in.
I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. (the Queen of Tempe rises slowly from her seat) The Queen of Tempe has returned and she is the best one. Don't worry, she is a benevolent Queen. She hangs out with the Court Jester of Tempe, casually, in a trailer. She bakes cakes. She takes the light rail. She wears a tutu. She has a water star chart. She has a driver’s license. She’s reading five books at once. She has no money. She is joyful. She is listening and staring, hard. She is figuring things out like she promised she would do after she made that rice pudding. She moves quickly, processing and advancing, because she is incredibly smart. She still has awesome breasts. They aren't exactly new but they show no signs of aging. (I could go on but now's not the time)
I’m sorry I’m like this and it’s annoying to you but I must point out that it only annoys you because you hate your life. I recommend using fabric softener, it’s an easy way to start living the life of a Queen.
Please refer to the subtitle of my blog before you think about complaining to me. (that's the part where I'm such a dick!)
I bought four pairs of underwear today for $15. Do I have that kind of money? No. But I need my ass to look good in my tutu. Duh. It’s 201 and 0.
And to my mom, whom I have never mentioned in my blog before: I have a lot of love for you. You got me here. I already miss you.
This feels like an Oscar speech. (Now, Laxmi and Prakash and Aurora, go to bed!)
And one more thing before the music swells and they whisk me away....I loved greatly before I became the Queen of Tempe. I used to love you more than I loved me but now there's this shift and I'm not sure anymore. You will see. The next thing I write will be about you. It will be specific. You will know you are loved.
February 6, 2010
Something I Almost Forgot
I was sixteen years old. I was at Lalibela's with my Bio Dad and my sister Alix. I was hysterical, hyper, laughing maniacally about whatever. I spilled my water all over the table. My dad told Alix to clean it up. She said "But I didn't spill it, Chelsea did. Make her clean it up". And my dad said
I can't make Chelsea do it. She's a free spirit.
I can't make Chelsea do it. She's a free spirit.
February 4, 2010
I Want To Be Like Macs
I want to live with people I like. I want a space of my own that I can be naked in. I want a strong showerhead that is not affixed to the wall. I want to be free to have fun every day. I want to wear makeup and dresses and bikinis and tutus and earrings and high heels and have long beautiful hair. I want to cook meals that make my friends want to have sex with me. I want all my friends to want to have sex with me. I want to have sex with all my friends.
I want to sing. I want to yoga, hike, swim, basketball, rock climb, surf, ski, skateboard, and SCRABBLE.
I want to have all the time in the world to write. I want to go to Australia and Japan and South America and India and Germany. I want to go back to Rome and Granada and Marseille. I want to live somewhere where it is comfortable to be outside every day of the year. I need to be able to wear the least amount of clothes possible. I need a lot of sun. Anywhere in Andalucia would probably work. I want a California King bed with a very expensive mattress, in a dark room with heavy curtains and a fan. I want to walk to a farmers market every day to get my food. I don't want to have to drive anywhere.
I want peace and quiet and a lot of attention.
I want a closet filled with paper and glitter and glue, just like the one Sivan has but MORE so I can make crafts forever.
I want to have a partner in all of this. I want this partner to love me fully and accept all of my love. And if they knew how to give a good mani/pedi I would never consider cheating on them.
I want to sing. I want to yoga, hike, swim, basketball, rock climb, surf, ski, skateboard, and SCRABBLE.
I want to have all the time in the world to write. I want to go to Australia and Japan and South America and India and Germany. I want to go back to Rome and Granada and Marseille. I want to live somewhere where it is comfortable to be outside every day of the year. I need to be able to wear the least amount of clothes possible. I need a lot of sun. Anywhere in Andalucia would probably work. I want a California King bed with a very expensive mattress, in a dark room with heavy curtains and a fan. I want to walk to a farmers market every day to get my food. I don't want to have to drive anywhere.
I want peace and quiet and a lot of attention.
I want a closet filled with paper and glitter and glue, just like the one Sivan has but MORE so I can make crafts forever.
I want to have a partner in all of this. I want this partner to love me fully and accept all of my love. And if they knew how to give a good mani/pedi I would never consider cheating on them.
February 3, 2010
I Ate Eight Oreos Tonight, Folks
How wonderful (my) life is now that Gaga's in (my) the world.
One time, this was a few weeks ago, the light rail was stopped and I was running to get on and I had to cross the tracks, right in front of the driver, if I was going to make it and he honked at me and my heart went ZING and it stayed that way for a good two or three minutes. I was flushed and excited and sweaty. I got on and looked around to see if anyone had noticed that That was ME, I’m the girl the light rail operator honked at and I am still reeling from it, did you all see that? Nobody did so I got over it because if nobody is watching then who cares if the light rail operator honked at you.
This other time, maybe six weeks ago, I saw a man fall on the light rail. He missed the steps and tumbled dramatically to the ground. His sleeping bag and his cane and his other bag spillled out over the floor. He didn’t get up right away. I don’t think he could believe that he had fallen but he was drunk so Believe it, mister. You are on the floor of the light rail.
I am a real girl now, guys. I wear a tutu every day and I have a picture of a kitty sitting on a bunny taped to my bureau. I am the prettiest freak in school.
I had a box of sunflower seeds this week and they were on my desk for too long. I had to finish them so I could move on with my life. They taste like meat to me. The ingredients listed are SUNFLOWER MEATS RAW. I am on to something.
I fought with my sister this week and by that I mean she yelled at me for an hour. I got sad and then I made a decision to not care. To say Fuck It. I can't convince anyone to like me. Fuck it. Louis CK taught me that. I am content and if you'd like to keep up and come along, please do. This is my yellow merry-go-round, I am on it in a dress (do you see my pretty dress?) and it's going fast because that is how I like it. Hang on and I will show you a good time. I'm only spinning this thing for you anyway. If you are feeling sick then I can ask Josh K. the Fat Kid to push you off into the sand. You are welcome back when you are ready to have some fun goddamnit because soon enough Mrs Pfingsten is going to yell at us to go inside and you're going to be in class wondering why the hell you wasted your recess sulking in the sand. This goes for everyone. Except Josh K., you are fat.
I declare that being selfish is the most selfless thing you can do for the world. I want a new word for 'selfish'. I am open to your ideas.
I recently rediscovered how cool my brother Max is. He must be so bored with me telling him that by now but I am excited about it, I want him to know. I want my brother Max to know that he is loved by me. MAX I LOVE YOU. I'm going to remind myself now:
"Chelsea, I like how excited you are about loving people. Just keep telling them. It's good".
"Okay Chelsea, I will. Thank you".
"You are welcome. Your face smells tasty, like carrots. Thank you for masturbating today".
"You are welcome, Chelsea. I did it for you. Goodnight".
"Goodnight. Don't forget you're hot too. And brave".
"Shh. Now I am trying to sleep".
"Sorry. Do you want to get under the covers and have a clubhouse meeting though, real quick, before you fall asleep?"
"Not really".
"Okay. Goodnight then".
"Yeah. Goodnight".
I used to LOL a lot but now I WOL, wheeze out loud. Because wheezing is what I do when something is funny and it is what I do when the rest of the house is asleep and I am being quiet. WOL is much quieter than LOL. I had to reconsider this when Max's (my very cool brother) friend Forest (who is also my friend) told me we might not be able to be friends if I use LOL too much. I hope WOL works for him, it does for me. It is more accurate. I am so glad I cleared that up that I will dust my hands off now.
Many of my pursuits are shallow. I like makeup and clothes and shoes and purses. I am counteracting this by reading about Judaism.
I know I'm all over the place. That is because I am a hummingbird. I am not apologizing, I'm just saying. I'm barely thinking about this. Just saying it.
One time, this was a few weeks ago, the light rail was stopped and I was running to get on and I had to cross the tracks, right in front of the driver, if I was going to make it and he honked at me and my heart went ZING and it stayed that way for a good two or three minutes. I was flushed and excited and sweaty. I got on and looked around to see if anyone had noticed that That was ME, I’m the girl the light rail operator honked at and I am still reeling from it, did you all see that? Nobody did so I got over it because if nobody is watching then who cares if the light rail operator honked at you.
This other time, maybe six weeks ago, I saw a man fall on the light rail. He missed the steps and tumbled dramatically to the ground. His sleeping bag and his cane and his other bag spillled out over the floor. He didn’t get up right away. I don’t think he could believe that he had fallen but he was drunk so Believe it, mister. You are on the floor of the light rail.
I am a real girl now, guys. I wear a tutu every day and I have a picture of a kitty sitting on a bunny taped to my bureau. I am the prettiest freak in school.
I had a box of sunflower seeds this week and they were on my desk for too long. I had to finish them so I could move on with my life. They taste like meat to me. The ingredients listed are SUNFLOWER MEATS RAW. I am on to something.
I fought with my sister this week and by that I mean she yelled at me for an hour. I got sad and then I made a decision to not care. To say Fuck It. I can't convince anyone to like me. Fuck it. Louis CK taught me that. I am content and if you'd like to keep up and come along, please do. This is my yellow merry-go-round, I am on it in a dress (do you see my pretty dress?) and it's going fast because that is how I like it. Hang on and I will show you a good time. I'm only spinning this thing for you anyway. If you are feeling sick then I can ask Josh K. the Fat Kid to push you off into the sand. You are welcome back when you are ready to have some fun goddamnit because soon enough Mrs Pfingsten is going to yell at us to go inside and you're going to be in class wondering why the hell you wasted your recess sulking in the sand. This goes for everyone. Except Josh K., you are fat.
I declare that being selfish is the most selfless thing you can do for the world. I want a new word for 'selfish'. I am open to your ideas.
I recently rediscovered how cool my brother Max is. He must be so bored with me telling him that by now but I am excited about it, I want him to know. I want my brother Max to know that he is loved by me. MAX I LOVE YOU. I'm going to remind myself now:
"Chelsea, I like how excited you are about loving people. Just keep telling them. It's good".
"Okay Chelsea, I will. Thank you".
"You are welcome. Your face smells tasty, like carrots. Thank you for masturbating today".
"You are welcome, Chelsea. I did it for you. Goodnight".
"Goodnight. Don't forget you're hot too. And brave".
"Shh. Now I am trying to sleep".
"Sorry. Do you want to get under the covers and have a clubhouse meeting though, real quick, before you fall asleep?"
"Not really".
"Okay. Goodnight then".
"Yeah. Goodnight".
I used to LOL a lot but now I WOL, wheeze out loud. Because wheezing is what I do when something is funny and it is what I do when the rest of the house is asleep and I am being quiet. WOL is much quieter than LOL. I had to reconsider this when Max's (my very cool brother) friend Forest (who is also my friend) told me we might not be able to be friends if I use LOL too much. I hope WOL works for him, it does for me. It is more accurate. I am so glad I cleared that up that I will dust my hands off now.
Many of my pursuits are shallow. I like makeup and clothes and shoes and purses. I am counteracting this by reading about Judaism.
I know I'm all over the place. That is because I am a hummingbird. I am not apologizing, I'm just saying. I'm barely thinking about this. Just saying it.
January 28, 2010
Light Rail Ricky
I just met Ricky on the light rail.
He is FUCKING NUTS and too beautiful to be real. Dangerously beautiful like he could be raped and probably has been. He had angelface and the light was perfect for it. I'm not sure anyone else saw him but me. I could have been talking to myself. I could easily convince myself that none of this happened. He is 20 years old, I am 26. He said 26 is the perfect age. He asked me if I have any kids. He asked me why I work at Planned Parenthood but I don't think he listened to my answer. He sings. In a band.
He just got out of a half way house in Mesa. His dad put him there. He was supposed to be there for 90 days but he made it out in 50. He is a master bullshitter. I can tell, being one myself. We are both Geminis. He knew it before I told him, he could see it in my eyes. That's what he said anyway.
My favorite: He was almost in a movie with Whoopi Goldberg when he was a pretty young thing but his mom wouldn’t allow it.
He just got out of the hospital. I noticed the band on his wrist and I asked him about it. It looked like it had been there for days. He had pinkeye but is no longer contagious. He needed a dollar to get an ID because his wallet was stolen on the light rail last week. These are just things he said to me. I just say things too and so it was terrifying to watch someone else do it so well for so little.
He reeked of cigarettes, he was holding one. He knew a little bit of French. He works at Denny’s in Mesa but he is transferring to a Denny's in Scottsdale because that is where he lives now. His eyes were blue and green. He liked my cowboy boots. They reminded him of Jim Morrison. He told me. He wrote his phone number on my copy of the Phoenix New Times. I rewrote it.
I laughed out loud walking home and the men in the park who are building the ramps, they heard me and they stared, that's how loudly I had to laugh at Light Rail Ricky on my walk home.
He told me I was very pretty but I already know that. When he was sixteen, he dated a 26 year old woman. They worked at a bar together. She was in love with him and he said it with a lot of emphasis on the word 'love'. Oh my god no fucking kidding, Ricky. What a life he must be living. I want to cry. Too much. I just rush cried, it was weird. I know I talk a lot about crying and thinking about crying and that just now was the closest I have come to crying in a long time. Because of Light Rail Ricky.
People are getting to be magic. It’s 201 and 0.
He is FUCKING NUTS and too beautiful to be real. Dangerously beautiful like he could be raped and probably has been. He had angelface and the light was perfect for it. I'm not sure anyone else saw him but me. I could have been talking to myself. I could easily convince myself that none of this happened. He is 20 years old, I am 26. He said 26 is the perfect age. He asked me if I have any kids. He asked me why I work at Planned Parenthood but I don't think he listened to my answer. He sings. In a band.
He just got out of a half way house in Mesa. His dad put him there. He was supposed to be there for 90 days but he made it out in 50. He is a master bullshitter. I can tell, being one myself. We are both Geminis. He knew it before I told him, he could see it in my eyes. That's what he said anyway.
My favorite: He was almost in a movie with Whoopi Goldberg when he was a pretty young thing but his mom wouldn’t allow it.
He just got out of the hospital. I noticed the band on his wrist and I asked him about it. It looked like it had been there for days. He had pinkeye but is no longer contagious. He needed a dollar to get an ID because his wallet was stolen on the light rail last week. These are just things he said to me. I just say things too and so it was terrifying to watch someone else do it so well for so little.
He reeked of cigarettes, he was holding one. He knew a little bit of French. He works at Denny’s in Mesa but he is transferring to a Denny's in Scottsdale because that is where he lives now. His eyes were blue and green. He liked my cowboy boots. They reminded him of Jim Morrison. He told me. He wrote his phone number on my copy of the Phoenix New Times. I rewrote it.
I laughed out loud walking home and the men in the park who are building the ramps, they heard me and they stared, that's how loudly I had to laugh at Light Rail Ricky on my walk home.
He told me I was very pretty but I already know that. When he was sixteen, he dated a 26 year old woman. They worked at a bar together. She was in love with him and he said it with a lot of emphasis on the word 'love'. Oh my god no fucking kidding, Ricky. What a life he must be living. I want to cry. Too much. I just rush cried, it was weird. I know I talk a lot about crying and thinking about crying and that just now was the closest I have come to crying in a long time. Because of Light Rail Ricky.
People are getting to be magic. It’s 201 and 0.
January 27, 2010
What I Know About God
God is great, God is good, let us thank him for something that actually rhymes with 'good'
God is Love. I saw that written on the sidewalk.
God is Ubique and Everybody
God smells good, like whatever you want him to smell like
I want God to smell like Pop Tarts and cotton and so it is written and so it shall be. If he smelled like bacon and coffee I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.
I want God to lay in this hammock with me and so he will. I asked him in a roundabout way and he pretty much said Yes. Our alliance is loose.
God is a kitten and a baby
God is not a dog, dogs are vile. But there is this one dog that I like, Henry. He is a kind and gentle dog.
God and I are going to write a report together. We practice TEAMWORK. Together. I put the dishes away and God chops the vegetables and I stare at her tits because Goddamnit they are perfect. We talk about doing things that we never do but dream big, always, that's what we do together. We don't freak each other out, we help, we eat breakfast together. We're helpers. We’re givers. We add and don’t subtract. And it's not like "Let's get a bottle of red wine and swing on the swings" it's more like "Let's never sleep and when we do let's make sure it's because we're really tired". This will last as long as it should.
God is the time I slept with that dude and gave him homemade applesauce as a consolation prize, as a way to say That was stupid, now get the fuck out of my house. God was happy that he left the applesauce on the table and never called me.
God is really fucking hot. I want to sleep with God over and over and spend days in bed and when we do get out of bed I want to dress God up like a sleaze and take him to a party and separate and stare from across the room and think naked thoughts and do that for as long as we can and then sneak away and you know it, really quick and crazy, frantic and close. If there is no party, a library will do. If there is no library then God Bless You.
God is dead too. That stops me sometimes. God is dead and he's never coming back and you're not my real dad, door slam, pillow cry, wetface sleep. God died and I could not cry, I could only watch The Sopranos and take good fun drugs. That happened. It isn’t happening anymore thank God. Now what is happening is that I am secretly hoping he never comes back because I like what this life is and I would never have guessed this is where I would be, in the tingly shower, mint shampoo, thankful that You died. I’m such a dick!
And God isn’t even a person, though I’ve made him sound like one. A man person. But no. That’s not even close, I swear. God is too many things. I take my idea of God in many directions because I am a Gemini Pig. A hummingbird. God is this feeling inside, this good feeling, I know I’m alive. I like myself just the way I am and you too. It’s you I like.
I like when you tell me what your God is.
If I could text God it would say “Thank you thank you thank you. I walked to the store today because of you. I wore heels and a tutu and stomped on the piano because of you. I took two free donut samples without feeling guilty and then I purchased a glazed donut that I thought would be smaller but I was looking at the lemon one instead so I bought and ate an unexpectedly large glazed donut because of you. I bought unsalted sunflower seeds and expensive moisturizers (just the one) because of you. I had lots of coffee and I listened to my sister and I thought about crying because of you. I said something true out loud today because of you. I will wear a pants suit for you. I will let a doctor cauterize my cervix for you. I will borrow books on Judaism and never read them for you. I will say I won’t read these books and then it turns out I will read them and am currently reading them for you. I will cook you a million dinners. I will sleep with you and your spouse/significant other (at the same time of course) and be very peanut butter about the whole thing. We will be in bed and I will trace a picture on your back, a picture of a little girl in the sun next to a tree. I’ll make you guess what it is and then I might draw a dragon for you. Fuck it, I will do nothing for you and everything for myself FOR YOU. Love me or not, it doesn’t matter. I have nothing but time. I am here but I am not waiting. LOL”. I think I have to end it with an LOL even if I am not really LOL, it's a long and heavy text message.
And of course he already loves me but it will take him a while to text me back and when he does my heart will jump, I’ll feel it jump, and whatever he writes will be perfect and who knows and who cares. I'm a bored Gemini Pig hummingbird kind of girl.
I guess I know a lot about God.
God is Love. I saw that written on the sidewalk.
God is Ubique and Everybody
God smells good, like whatever you want him to smell like
I want God to smell like Pop Tarts and cotton and so it is written and so it shall be. If he smelled like bacon and coffee I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.
I want God to lay in this hammock with me and so he will. I asked him in a roundabout way and he pretty much said Yes. Our alliance is loose.
God is a kitten and a baby
God is not a dog, dogs are vile. But there is this one dog that I like, Henry. He is a kind and gentle dog.
God and I are going to write a report together. We practice TEAMWORK. Together. I put the dishes away and God chops the vegetables and I stare at her tits because Goddamnit they are perfect. We talk about doing things that we never do but dream big, always, that's what we do together. We don't freak each other out, we help, we eat breakfast together. We're helpers. We’re givers. We add and don’t subtract. And it's not like "Let's get a bottle of red wine and swing on the swings" it's more like "Let's never sleep and when we do let's make sure it's because we're really tired". This will last as long as it should.
God is the time I slept with that dude and gave him homemade applesauce as a consolation prize, as a way to say That was stupid, now get the fuck out of my house. God was happy that he left the applesauce on the table and never called me.
God is really fucking hot. I want to sleep with God over and over and spend days in bed and when we do get out of bed I want to dress God up like a sleaze and take him to a party and separate and stare from across the room and think naked thoughts and do that for as long as we can and then sneak away and you know it, really quick and crazy, frantic and close. If there is no party, a library will do. If there is no library then God Bless You.
God is dead too. That stops me sometimes. God is dead and he's never coming back and you're not my real dad, door slam, pillow cry, wetface sleep. God died and I could not cry, I could only watch The Sopranos and take good fun drugs. That happened. It isn’t happening anymore thank God. Now what is happening is that I am secretly hoping he never comes back because I like what this life is and I would never have guessed this is where I would be, in the tingly shower, mint shampoo, thankful that You died. I’m such a dick!
And God isn’t even a person, though I’ve made him sound like one. A man person. But no. That’s not even close, I swear. God is too many things. I take my idea of God in many directions because I am a Gemini Pig. A hummingbird. God is this feeling inside, this good feeling, I know I’m alive. I like myself just the way I am and you too. It’s you I like.
I like when you tell me what your God is.
If I could text God it would say “Thank you thank you thank you. I walked to the store today because of you. I wore heels and a tutu and stomped on the piano because of you. I took two free donut samples without feeling guilty and then I purchased a glazed donut that I thought would be smaller but I was looking at the lemon one instead so I bought and ate an unexpectedly large glazed donut because of you. I bought unsalted sunflower seeds and expensive moisturizers (just the one) because of you. I had lots of coffee and I listened to my sister and I thought about crying because of you. I said something true out loud today because of you. I will wear a pants suit for you. I will let a doctor cauterize my cervix for you. I will borrow books on Judaism and never read them for you. I will say I won’t read these books and then it turns out I will read them and am currently reading them for you. I will cook you a million dinners. I will sleep with you and your spouse/significant other (at the same time of course) and be very peanut butter about the whole thing. We will be in bed and I will trace a picture on your back, a picture of a little girl in the sun next to a tree. I’ll make you guess what it is and then I might draw a dragon for you. Fuck it, I will do nothing for you and everything for myself FOR YOU. Love me or not, it doesn’t matter. I have nothing but time. I am here but I am not waiting. LOL”. I think I have to end it with an LOL even if I am not really LOL, it's a long and heavy text message.
And of course he already loves me but it will take him a while to text me back and when he does my heart will jump, I’ll feel it jump, and whatever he writes will be perfect and who knows and who cares. I'm a bored Gemini Pig hummingbird kind of girl.
I guess I know a lot about God.
January 17, 2010
My Personal Thoughts
I have so many personal thoughts. That's why my diary is so big. Because of all the thoughts I have and how personal they are. It would astound you but I don't let anyone read it so if you find it, please don't read it. Those are my personal thoughts and they are private. That's why there's an elastic band closing them in.
One of my personal thoughts that isn't so private is I'M HAPPY. My best friend Bethie Froehlich became Bethie Pennington this weekend and I got to stand right behind her while she did it and then I got to stand in front of her and tell everyone how much I love her and Markie and how warm they will be together. I got to see a lot of my friends be in love at this wedding and that is so beautiful, we are all so lucky, let's not forget to keep being in love.
FUCK. It was more fun than a salad.
Beth's dad gave a great speech that included the line "That's when baseball was crazy" which you don't hear at a lot of weddings. Classic Ray.
Lots of GaGa at the bachelorette party. Our cab driver had the CD and he flashed the lights and sang along with us and told us when to listen closely. Corey made a bear coat and brought a crutch, both of which I got to use while dancing. Now the bear coat is mine and I love Corey more than I ever thought I could because he gave me a bear coat and nobody has done that for me before. I also just love to cuddle that boy, he's a big jungle gym. He told me he loves me for being a freak and that made me love him even more. Thank you for noticing, Corey. My wedding will be even more GaGa, just you wait.
Beth's gay, Efren, unhooked my bra with one hand. It happened so fast! I was like My bra! and then he hooked it back but it took him a while so I melted into his arms while I waited. He was sweaty and hot and very gay but goddamnit I love a challenge.
The bridesmaids I love. Lauren Terry is too cute to talk about, she crawled into bed and asked me to make her pancakes and I jumped up and did it right away because how could I say no to that face. Sarah Goldblatt with that body and the LUSH skin. She is just so damn sharp too, I almost hate her. Parmon who is no longer Parmon, getting shit done better than anyone, especially me. And fucking Julie Lopez. Julie and I have a pie date tonight. You think I'm in love with her? Of course I am you idiot.
And today, my dad. My Bio Dad. He took me out to a nice dinner and I told him everything about all the love. I love my dad too by the way and I told him so. He took me to Lowe's to get a key made fucking finally and then he let me order a Bacon Dessert even though he is vegetarian, we got the bacon on the side. The dessert is called "Salute To A King" and it is a peanut butter custard with banana on top and bacon brittle on the side and just go fuck yourself if you don't like it. The waiter told me about Bacon Ice Cream and I said "I knew it!".
I am thankful that I was so present for the entire process, just living and being with Beth for two weeks, reading Babysitters Club and several pigs and all the coffee and MYMAAM. And peej, which is not lesbian porn but pajamas. January Arizona is beautiful. Beth Pennington is beautiful. She is a ray of sunshine. I started to pay more attention and I realized how very much I love her. I ain't even scared.
And I am going to live with one of my favorite families in one of my favorite neighborhoods next to my favorite yoga studio and my favorite Planned Parenthood clinic. I didn't even have to ask.
Now I am wearing a tutu and doing laundry. I am excited to hang my clothes on the line and have them smell that way. It will be the right start to this new chapter of Chelsea.
This is a selfish blog, I wrote it only so I could remember this time. It wasn't for you.
I will go long.
One of my personal thoughts that isn't so private is I'M HAPPY. My best friend Bethie Froehlich became Bethie Pennington this weekend and I got to stand right behind her while she did it and then I got to stand in front of her and tell everyone how much I love her and Markie and how warm they will be together. I got to see a lot of my friends be in love at this wedding and that is so beautiful, we are all so lucky, let's not forget to keep being in love.
FUCK. It was more fun than a salad.
Beth's dad gave a great speech that included the line "That's when baseball was crazy" which you don't hear at a lot of weddings. Classic Ray.
Lots of GaGa at the bachelorette party. Our cab driver had the CD and he flashed the lights and sang along with us and told us when to listen closely. Corey made a bear coat and brought a crutch, both of which I got to use while dancing. Now the bear coat is mine and I love Corey more than I ever thought I could because he gave me a bear coat and nobody has done that for me before. I also just love to cuddle that boy, he's a big jungle gym. He told me he loves me for being a freak and that made me love him even more. Thank you for noticing, Corey. My wedding will be even more GaGa, just you wait.
Beth's gay, Efren, unhooked my bra with one hand. It happened so fast! I was like My bra! and then he hooked it back but it took him a while so I melted into his arms while I waited. He was sweaty and hot and very gay but goddamnit I love a challenge.
The bridesmaids I love. Lauren Terry is too cute to talk about, she crawled into bed and asked me to make her pancakes and I jumped up and did it right away because how could I say no to that face. Sarah Goldblatt with that body and the LUSH skin. She is just so damn sharp too, I almost hate her. Parmon who is no longer Parmon, getting shit done better than anyone, especially me. And fucking Julie Lopez. Julie and I have a pie date tonight. You think I'm in love with her? Of course I am you idiot.
And today, my dad. My Bio Dad. He took me out to a nice dinner and I told him everything about all the love. I love my dad too by the way and I told him so. He took me to Lowe's to get a key made fucking finally and then he let me order a Bacon Dessert even though he is vegetarian, we got the bacon on the side. The dessert is called "Salute To A King" and it is a peanut butter custard with banana on top and bacon brittle on the side and just go fuck yourself if you don't like it. The waiter told me about Bacon Ice Cream and I said "I knew it!".
I am thankful that I was so present for the entire process, just living and being with Beth for two weeks, reading Babysitters Club and several pigs and all the coffee and MYMAAM. And peej, which is not lesbian porn but pajamas. January Arizona is beautiful. Beth Pennington is beautiful. She is a ray of sunshine. I started to pay more attention and I realized how very much I love her. I ain't even scared.
And I am going to live with one of my favorite families in one of my favorite neighborhoods next to my favorite yoga studio and my favorite Planned Parenthood clinic. I didn't even have to ask.
Now I am wearing a tutu and doing laundry. I am excited to hang my clothes on the line and have them smell that way. It will be the right start to this new chapter of Chelsea.
This is a selfish blog, I wrote it only so I could remember this time. It wasn't for you.
I will go long.
January 10, 2010
Several Pigs
I have been living with Beth and her parents in Ahwatukee all week in preparation for Beth's wedding. Last night we went out and didn't come home until 3 in the morning and as we pulled into the driveway we saw Several Pigs. I said "That is a pig. There are more pigs. There are several pigs". And Beth said "Several pigs. There are several pigs in my yard". They had tipped over a trash can and we didn't want to get out of the car because pigs can attack and there were several of them. Two ladies, several pigs.
I made Beth keep the car lights fixed on the several pigs. I didn't want to lose track of any of the several. One of them went right up to her Dad's bedroom window and she screamed at it "Leave my Dad alone, one of you several pigs!".
I tried to call the City of Phoenix. I was going to say "Hi Phoenix. It's me. There are several pigs in Beth's yard" but the number I found was no longer in service. Who are you supposed to call when it's 3 in the morning and there are several pigs in Beth's yard?
Some of the pigs started to walk away. I said "Several of the pigs have left. But several pigs remain". We waited. I asked Beth to keep saying 'several pigs'. Finally all several pigs were gone and we went inside and curled up in bed together to read Babysitters Club #8, Boy Crazy Stacey. It's a terrible read but we forgot about the several pigs and slept like eight-year-olds.
I made Beth keep the car lights fixed on the several pigs. I didn't want to lose track of any of the several. One of them went right up to her Dad's bedroom window and she screamed at it "Leave my Dad alone, one of you several pigs!".
I tried to call the City of Phoenix. I was going to say "Hi Phoenix. It's me. There are several pigs in Beth's yard" but the number I found was no longer in service. Who are you supposed to call when it's 3 in the morning and there are several pigs in Beth's yard?
Some of the pigs started to walk away. I said "Several of the pigs have left. But several pigs remain". We waited. I asked Beth to keep saying 'several pigs'. Finally all several pigs were gone and we went inside and curled up in bed together to read Babysitters Club #8, Boy Crazy Stacey. It's a terrible read but we forgot about the several pigs and slept like eight-year-olds.
December 15, 2009
I want a price you can't beat with a stick
Lying in bed at night with a cold, struggling to breathe, constantly shifting, trying to find a position where I won't drown in my own mucus, I find myself sympathizing with the Elephant Man. Sure, by day I have the hot tumor-free bod of a 26 year old white female so I guess you could say Elephant Man had it worse but I don't know because I missed a good hour of beauty sleep. And E Man was famous.
My last lesson with the boys went well. I taught them American slang like Get 'er done, mo money mo problems, badonkadonk...things we say all the time in America. They loved n00b. They called Obama a n00b with no prompting from me. To demonstrate the new vocabulary, we pretended I was on a date with Jacopo. I found texts on his phone from another woman, played by Emanuele. I was like "He's MY man" and Emanuele got up in my face and said "Oh no you d'int!" and we had a snap-off head-jerk fight. I was so proud. Their mother told me that they don't want any other English teacher but me and they both wanted kisses goodbye. I don't think I need to tell you that I will miss those little fuckers.
Dana and I hosted a couchsurfer from Mexico. He was only supposed to stay three nights but ended up staying four because his plan to stay the night in Vatican City fell through. The Pope isn't a couchsurfer apparently. We talked about what he was going to do with his life and I told him it was okay, I didn't know either. He said "You're still young though. How old are you?". "26". And he made a face as if to say "Oooh, never mind, maybe it is too late. Maybe you should just give up now and put your ass on the Internet while you can still make some money with your hot tumor-free bod because that shit won't last, sister. Now tell me how to get to the city center even though you already did five times". PWNED. By a kid who thought he was going to sleep in Vatican City.
I was on the bus and my nose started running all over the place, all over my face and hands, I couldn't stop it. A guy across the way was staring hard at me. I turned my face to the window. I was so annoyed that he was watching me be vulnerable and snotty, I was screaming I HATE ITALY in my head. Twenty minutes later we got to the last stop, I was soaking. I kept my head down, I was waiting for the starer to exit so I could run home and blow. I could see his shoes, stopped in front of me, blocking my way. I looked up and he was holding out a Kleenex. I took it and ran and felt a cry coming that never did. He was staring, yes, but he was thinking How can I help this poor woman? and I was thinking Que cazzo vuoi what the fuck do you want and I am an incredible bitch. Incredible. Pay attention, Chelsea. This is a reminder from Italy.
My last day in Rome and I'm blogging and going to Dolce Forno for a bagne cioccolata. I'll be in Dublin tonight. I remember when I first arrived and Dublin felt so foreign and now it will feel like home because English.
My last lesson with the boys went well. I taught them American slang like Get 'er done, mo money mo problems, badonkadonk...things we say all the time in America. They loved n00b. They called Obama a n00b with no prompting from me. To demonstrate the new vocabulary, we pretended I was on a date with Jacopo. I found texts on his phone from another woman, played by Emanuele. I was like "He's MY man" and Emanuele got up in my face and said "Oh no you d'int!" and we had a snap-off head-jerk fight. I was so proud. Their mother told me that they don't want any other English teacher but me and they both wanted kisses goodbye. I don't think I need to tell you that I will miss those little fuckers.
Dana and I hosted a couchsurfer from Mexico. He was only supposed to stay three nights but ended up staying four because his plan to stay the night in Vatican City fell through. The Pope isn't a couchsurfer apparently. We talked about what he was going to do with his life and I told him it was okay, I didn't know either. He said "You're still young though. How old are you?". "26". And he made a face as if to say "Oooh, never mind, maybe it is too late. Maybe you should just give up now and put your ass on the Internet while you can still make some money with your hot tumor-free bod because that shit won't last, sister. Now tell me how to get to the city center even though you already did five times". PWNED. By a kid who thought he was going to sleep in Vatican City.
I was on the bus and my nose started running all over the place, all over my face and hands, I couldn't stop it. A guy across the way was staring hard at me. I turned my face to the window. I was so annoyed that he was watching me be vulnerable and snotty, I was screaming I HATE ITALY in my head. Twenty minutes later we got to the last stop, I was soaking. I kept my head down, I was waiting for the starer to exit so I could run home and blow. I could see his shoes, stopped in front of me, blocking my way. I looked up and he was holding out a Kleenex. I took it and ran and felt a cry coming that never did. He was staring, yes, but he was thinking How can I help this poor woman? and I was thinking Que cazzo vuoi what the fuck do you want and I am an incredible bitch. Incredible. Pay attention, Chelsea. This is a reminder from Italy.
My last day in Rome and I'm blogging and going to Dolce Forno for a bagne cioccolata. I'll be in Dublin tonight. I remember when I first arrived and Dublin felt so foreign and now it will feel like home because English.
December 9, 2009
I Kind Of Hit Kenny Once
He was sitting at his desk chair, the heavy one that smelled like his balls.
We tipped over in it once because I attacked him, put all my weight on him, because I wanted to wuzzer and be annoying too and we fell backwards and I had to laugh very hard so he wouldn’t be mad.
But the time that I kind of hit him, he was in his chair that didn’t smell too ballsy yet, Party Poker in the background. I was whining. I was probably wearing some flimsy scarf tied around my breasts.
He was smiling. He was speaking calmly, trying to give me what I wanted. My hands got fluttery and they slapped his arm.
I only remember because he was surprised. He said “That’s not cool” and he smoked a joint without me. I little girl sulked about it for a while and then we forgot and went out to eat. We were still new and eating a lot and feeling lucky to have each other. Lucky and happy even though we lived in a crack house that even our cat had the sense to run away from. We were too in love to clean.
We tipped over in it once because I attacked him, put all my weight on him, because I wanted to wuzzer and be annoying too and we fell backwards and I had to laugh very hard so he wouldn’t be mad.
But the time that I kind of hit him, he was in his chair that didn’t smell too ballsy yet, Party Poker in the background. I was whining. I was probably wearing some flimsy scarf tied around my breasts.
He was smiling. He was speaking calmly, trying to give me what I wanted. My hands got fluttery and they slapped his arm.
I only remember because he was surprised. He said “That’s not cool” and he smoked a joint without me. I little girl sulked about it for a while and then we forgot and went out to eat. We were still new and eating a lot and feeling lucky to have each other. Lucky and happy even though we lived in a crack house that even our cat had the sense to run away from. We were too in love to clean.
December 8, 2009
Tour Guide At The Loliseum
I'll eat anything. Davide made spelt pancakes with sunflower seeds and honey. Nobody ate them but me because what the fuck is spelt. I ate an entire tartufo that tasted like vomit. Literal vomit. I ate a hot dog sandwich but that was good. Anyone would eat a hot dog sandwich. Dark choco brownies dipped in sour cream. Lasagna. Expired Xanax. Now I'm just naming things I like to eat.
I was eight years old the day I realized that muffins and cupcakes come in paper wrappers. I watched my classmate peel the wrapper off of her birthday cupcake and I thought "I've been eating paper this whole time". I was stunned. And embarrassed. "You taking the paper off that thing, Aliya? Yeah, me too".
Phone books were so much fun. I miss them. I used to have a hell of a time looking up the boys I liked, making prank calls, finding funny names like Dick and pointing at them. Those were certainly the days.
I had been trying for a while to get my money from that school I lied to about having a kidney stone so I can pay my beeels. The first time I tried to go the Metro was closed. I had to eat twelve mini pizzas just to get over it, I was so cwanky. The second time I tried I was successful but this little snot raggedy kid in front of me on the bus was standing up and leaning over the seat, trying to touch me with a dirty white cloth she was wiping the bus windows with. I pictured the bus stopping short and her flying forward and hitting her head. I should have moved. I don't like to be made insane to the point of wishing death upon a two year old. I didn't let her stop me from collecting my wages though, not me. I got my money, payed my beels, and had enough left over to buy a 75 cent box of white wine. 75 cents. Box. I love Italy.
My roommate is so old school. I was sick and he gave me a spoonful of some thick honey licorice liquid like he was goddamn Mary Poppins. He also keeps a keg in the breakfast nook for no apparent reason. Stefano, you a badass.
Dana and I got burgers at The Pink Panter and we sat next to a table of five loud American boytards. They must have used the phrase "blackout drunk" about twenty times. Each. One of them told this story "Eleanor is so cool. She told me she wanted my cock" which I didn't buy, not for one second. I wouldn't buy that story with Dana's money. He talked to me. I told him I went to Arizona State and then this happened:
Boytard: Sun Devils! Jake Plummer!
Me: Who?
BT: Only your star quarterback.
Me: Oh, JAKE! Yeah we had math class together.
THE END
I was grading the tests of my priest class while watching Kathy Griffin clips on youtube and eating the vomit tartufo. Those details are irrelevant but shut up. One of the sections on the test was Straight Up Just Answer These Questions. Like "What is your favorite month?". "When is your birthday?". I think my homely kindergarten teacher misunderstood. Her answers? "What isn't my favorite month?" "When isn't my birthday?". I'm going to assume she is just a sassy bitch and give her a passing grade because it's funnier and I'd rather believe that I taught her how to be a sassy bitch in English instead of what is really true which is that I failed to teach her anything.
I'm gonna try this new thing where I stop thinking about only myself. We'll see if it works. I have my doubts.
I saw my favorite tranny at Termini. She was moving her eyebrows. I took it as a sign that it is time for me to come home.
I was eight years old the day I realized that muffins and cupcakes come in paper wrappers. I watched my classmate peel the wrapper off of her birthday cupcake and I thought "I've been eating paper this whole time". I was stunned. And embarrassed. "You taking the paper off that thing, Aliya? Yeah, me too".
Phone books were so much fun. I miss them. I used to have a hell of a time looking up the boys I liked, making prank calls, finding funny names like Dick and pointing at them. Those were certainly the days.
I had been trying for a while to get my money from that school I lied to about having a kidney stone so I can pay my beeels. The first time I tried to go the Metro was closed. I had to eat twelve mini pizzas just to get over it, I was so cwanky. The second time I tried I was successful but this little snot raggedy kid in front of me on the bus was standing up and leaning over the seat, trying to touch me with a dirty white cloth she was wiping the bus windows with. I pictured the bus stopping short and her flying forward and hitting her head. I should have moved. I don't like to be made insane to the point of wishing death upon a two year old. I didn't let her stop me from collecting my wages though, not me. I got my money, payed my beels, and had enough left over to buy a 75 cent box of white wine. 75 cents. Box. I love Italy.
My roommate is so old school. I was sick and he gave me a spoonful of some thick honey licorice liquid like he was goddamn Mary Poppins. He also keeps a keg in the breakfast nook for no apparent reason. Stefano, you a badass.
Dana and I got burgers at The Pink Panter and we sat next to a table of five loud American boytards. They must have used the phrase "blackout drunk" about twenty times. Each. One of them told this story "Eleanor is so cool. She told me she wanted my cock" which I didn't buy, not for one second. I wouldn't buy that story with Dana's money. He talked to me. I told him I went to Arizona State and then this happened:
Boytard: Sun Devils! Jake Plummer!
Me: Who?
BT: Only your star quarterback.
Me: Oh, JAKE! Yeah we had math class together.
THE END
I was grading the tests of my priest class while watching Kathy Griffin clips on youtube and eating the vomit tartufo. Those details are irrelevant but shut up. One of the sections on the test was Straight Up Just Answer These Questions. Like "What is your favorite month?". "When is your birthday?". I think my homely kindergarten teacher misunderstood. Her answers? "What isn't my favorite month?" "When isn't my birthday?". I'm going to assume she is just a sassy bitch and give her a passing grade because it's funnier and I'd rather believe that I taught her how to be a sassy bitch in English instead of what is really true which is that I failed to teach her anything.
I'm gonna try this new thing where I stop thinking about only myself. We'll see if it works. I have my doubts.
I saw my favorite tranny at Termini. She was moving her eyebrows. I took it as a sign that it is time for me to come home.
November 29, 2009
I'm here to fix your plumbing
I just got back from teaching my boys and I finally found out why Emanuele puts his face on his paper every time he writes something. It's because he likes the smell of the pen, it is "like a drugs".
I didn't have anything planned. All I brought was a list of crime-related vocabulary to teach them like hijacking and murder and community service. That's not true. My original plan was to role play porn scenarios with them, minus the sex. I thought it would be funny to have them saying things like "Did somebody here order a pizza?". It sounded better when I told Dana about it. Anyway, they loved Crime lesson. To illustrate some of the words, Emanuele played a few minutes of Grand Theft Auto for me and then told me "You don't say of this to my mom". No fucking shit.
I joked that I was going to kidnap them and I guess the word for kidnap in Italian is very close to the word for rape so that nearly caused a riot. "I'm going to rape you guys!" I could give myself lulzheimers if I keep thinking about it. They were repeating this word, scoreggi, that really made them crack up but they wouldn't share with me what it meant. So I told them I was going to call my friend and ask her and they were like NOOO so I called Dana right then and there and she told me it meant 'fart'. I was expecting something so much worse, given the freak out level in the room. I said "I know what you're saying. Fart. Farting." and they said "What? Fart? Give us an example". They are really very funny kids. I drew a picture of a stick figure with a cloud near its butt, devestating lolercaust ensued.
Since we were on the subject, I said the only Italian swear I know which is Porco Dio! and they flipped out. They were screaming and running out of the room. They said it is offensive to God and Jacopo was looking up to the sky and apologizing for me. I said it a few more times in all its variations for maximum effect.
By the end of the two hours, we had all settled down and they were asking me questions about New York and we had a real conversation. Maybe my methods are unconventional but they are finally having fun learning English. At least now they have the vocabulary to talk about 9/11, I could tell that had been eating away at them. I was so happy we had this breakthrough that I dance walked all the way home. You can only dance walk in public if you are extra pleased with yourself.
Shoutout to Max, my most athletic sibling. I can't wait to go to the rock gym with him and eat a little bit of candy while he kills me at Mario Kart.
I didn't have anything planned. All I brought was a list of crime-related vocabulary to teach them like hijacking and murder and community service. That's not true. My original plan was to role play porn scenarios with them, minus the sex. I thought it would be funny to have them saying things like "Did somebody here order a pizza?". It sounded better when I told Dana about it. Anyway, they loved Crime lesson. To illustrate some of the words, Emanuele played a few minutes of Grand Theft Auto for me and then told me "You don't say of this to my mom". No fucking shit.
I joked that I was going to kidnap them and I guess the word for kidnap in Italian is very close to the word for rape so that nearly caused a riot. "I'm going to rape you guys!" I could give myself lulzheimers if I keep thinking about it. They were repeating this word, scoreggi, that really made them crack up but they wouldn't share with me what it meant. So I told them I was going to call my friend and ask her and they were like NOOO so I called Dana right then and there and she told me it meant 'fart'. I was expecting something so much worse, given the freak out level in the room. I said "I know what you're saying. Fart. Farting." and they said "What? Fart? Give us an example". They are really very funny kids. I drew a picture of a stick figure with a cloud near its butt, devestating lolercaust ensued.
Since we were on the subject, I said the only Italian swear I know which is Porco Dio! and they flipped out. They were screaming and running out of the room. They said it is offensive to God and Jacopo was looking up to the sky and apologizing for me. I said it a few more times in all its variations for maximum effect.
By the end of the two hours, we had all settled down and they were asking me questions about New York and we had a real conversation. Maybe my methods are unconventional but they are finally having fun learning English. At least now they have the vocabulary to talk about 9/11, I could tell that had been eating away at them. I was so happy we had this breakthrough that I dance walked all the way home. You can only dance walk in public if you are extra pleased with yourself.
Shoutout to Max, my most athletic sibling. I can't wait to go to the rock gym with him and eat a little bit of candy while he kills me at Mario Kart.
Lady Gaga
I tried to teach my boys Father and Son by Cat Stevens last week. I transcribed the lyrics for them. I brought speakers. I took a shower. I was wicked excited about it. But I got an allergy attack thirty minutes in and they hated the song and they hated me for sneezing so I put my head down on the desk and I told them everything. "I've failed you as an English teacher. It's just that nothing happens the way you think it's going to. Life gets harder every day, boys, and it never lets up. I wanted to teach you English, I did. But I've been drinking a lot lately and I just have no motivation to get off facebook and work. I'm drifting. I'm all alone in this stupid city and my closest friends here are a couple of stupid pre-teens with stupid bowl cuts. You guys are my friends, right?" And of course they weren't listening to me. Even if they were, they'd be like DUHRRR WHAT? Who cares. Most of it was a lie anyway. I never wanted to teach them English.
I walked to Appia Antica, not really knowing what it was. I mean I knew it was some kind of road but I had no idea how long and narrow it would be. I was really surprised at how long and narrow it was! I thought, "Wow!". When they say All roads lead to Rome, they mean this one. At least that's what my guidebook says. My guidebook also says you should go on a Sunday because that's when cars aren't allowed on the road. I didn't follow this advice and I'm glad because I like to walk head first into high-speed traffic. I stopped to pick up red leaves for my Thanksgiving leaf wreath and I got honked at because it's soooo dangerous. I know, Rome. I'm a dangerous woman. I'm making a leaf wreath.
I sat in a field so I could look over my 2009 organizer. The excitement doesn't stop when you're with me. And the things on my to do list from January-June are hilarious. GYM YOGA KINKO'S FROZEN YOGURT HIKE MOVIES. My life was so easy. The hardest thing I had to do was CALL ASSHOLES. Mani/pedis were cheap, Fry's sold Nut Butter, laundry only took me an hour to finish. All I had to do was show up for my many social engagements and sometimes go to Kinko's. I guess things haven't changed too much. My planner now says things like NAPLES PRIESTS LEAVES GAY DANCE BLOG. I'm looking forward to NEW PEN tomorrow.
Davide juiced some beets the other night. I want a juicer. That beet juice gave me instant energy. I felt clear and clean and ready to manifest something. If I had a juicer, I would be gettin 'er done. I think they're only like $800 so if you start saving now, I should have one by Christmas.
I hosted someone in Rome! I got to show off my Italian language skills, my knowledge of the bus routes, my gelato scouting, all kinds of things. I'm so good at showing off. I like Andrew because he appreciates good gelato almost as much as I do. We ate a lot a lot of it together, Black Passion being our favorite. His idea for me was to lead a Gelato Tour and just stand by the Pantheon with a sign GELATO TOUR OF ROME 1 PM ONLY 10 EUROS or something like that and I wasn't supposed to tell anyone but here I am, blabbing it on the Internet. Please don't steal this idea. We met an Irish bum who could say Suck My Dick in fourteen languages. I took him to all the things. Not the Irish bum, Andrew. I could have invited the Irish bum along with us I suppose but he wasn't the best conversationalist. Suck my dick this, suck my dick that. Andrew brought gelato to our Thanksgiving and that was maybe the highlight of the everything that's happened to me so far. It's in my freezer right now. I could eat gelato right now. I could eat gelato in my bed right now. Think about that. I am. I am forgetting everything else. Like how to make this a cohesive paragraph.
Thanksgiving. My first one away from home. I couldn't sleep the night before because we don't have a potato masher and I was worried the potatoes wouldn't get mashed but they just kind of mashed on their own. Thanksgiving miracle! I made an alternative stuffing because I'm an artist, quinoa with figs and onion. Big hit. I made curry maple pumpkin apple mushiness, it was beyond. Green beans with mushrooms, vanilla carrots, a complicated cheese plate. The only thing I ruined were the sweet potatoes but considering I didn't start until 11 AM and I finished everything by 3, I'd say I did a real good thing (Twilight Zone). Dana made deviled eggs, cornbread, chicken cordon bleu, angelfood cake, and the best pumpkin pie I ever ate. Her secret? No crust. That shit just gets in the way. No crust pumpkin pies are the way of the future. So are robots.
I played youtube football bloopers on my laptop while we were eating and I thought of Daniel. It was something he might have done. Hi Daniel. At the end of the night, we all got drinks at a Chinese restaurant. I felt like a Jew on Christmas. Hi Sivan.
Dana doesn't read this but I'd like to give her a shoutout anyway for bringing everything together on time, letting me borrow her sexy red Mad Men hostess dress, always laughing at my jokes and appreciating my whimsical spontaneous twirling. If you would like a shoutout, let me know and I could maybe get you a deal on one. I got a guy.
My leaf wreath never happened if you were wondering.
I want to share a sexy song with you. This youtube video I found sucks so you'll have to forgive me and I think you will after you hear it. Just close your eyes but then open them again because I say one more thing at the end.
Only half a menstrual cycle until I'm in Tempe again!
I walked to Appia Antica, not really knowing what it was. I mean I knew it was some kind of road but I had no idea how long and narrow it would be. I was really surprised at how long and narrow it was! I thought, "Wow!". When they say All roads lead to Rome, they mean this one. At least that's what my guidebook says. My guidebook also says you should go on a Sunday because that's when cars aren't allowed on the road. I didn't follow this advice and I'm glad because I like to walk head first into high-speed traffic. I stopped to pick up red leaves for my Thanksgiving leaf wreath and I got honked at because it's soooo dangerous. I know, Rome. I'm a dangerous woman. I'm making a leaf wreath.
I sat in a field so I could look over my 2009 organizer. The excitement doesn't stop when you're with me. And the things on my to do list from January-June are hilarious. GYM YOGA KINKO'S FROZEN YOGURT HIKE MOVIES. My life was so easy. The hardest thing I had to do was CALL ASSHOLES. Mani/pedis were cheap, Fry's sold Nut Butter, laundry only took me an hour to finish. All I had to do was show up for my many social engagements and sometimes go to Kinko's. I guess things haven't changed too much. My planner now says things like NAPLES PRIESTS LEAVES GAY DANCE BLOG. I'm looking forward to NEW PEN tomorrow.
Davide juiced some beets the other night. I want a juicer. That beet juice gave me instant energy. I felt clear and clean and ready to manifest something. If I had a juicer, I would be gettin 'er done. I think they're only like $800 so if you start saving now, I should have one by Christmas.
I hosted someone in Rome! I got to show off my Italian language skills, my knowledge of the bus routes, my gelato scouting, all kinds of things. I'm so good at showing off. I like Andrew because he appreciates good gelato almost as much as I do. We ate a lot a lot of it together, Black Passion being our favorite. His idea for me was to lead a Gelato Tour and just stand by the Pantheon with a sign GELATO TOUR OF ROME 1 PM ONLY 10 EUROS or something like that and I wasn't supposed to tell anyone but here I am, blabbing it on the Internet. Please don't steal this idea. We met an Irish bum who could say Suck My Dick in fourteen languages. I took him to all the things. Not the Irish bum, Andrew. I could have invited the Irish bum along with us I suppose but he wasn't the best conversationalist. Suck my dick this, suck my dick that. Andrew brought gelato to our Thanksgiving and that was maybe the highlight of the everything that's happened to me so far. It's in my freezer right now. I could eat gelato right now. I could eat gelato in my bed right now. Think about that. I am. I am forgetting everything else. Like how to make this a cohesive paragraph.
Thanksgiving. My first one away from home. I couldn't sleep the night before because we don't have a potato masher and I was worried the potatoes wouldn't get mashed but they just kind of mashed on their own. Thanksgiving miracle! I made an alternative stuffing because I'm an artist, quinoa with figs and onion. Big hit. I made curry maple pumpkin apple mushiness, it was beyond. Green beans with mushrooms, vanilla carrots, a complicated cheese plate. The only thing I ruined were the sweet potatoes but considering I didn't start until 11 AM and I finished everything by 3, I'd say I did a real good thing (Twilight Zone). Dana made deviled eggs, cornbread, chicken cordon bleu, angelfood cake, and the best pumpkin pie I ever ate. Her secret? No crust. That shit just gets in the way. No crust pumpkin pies are the way of the future. So are robots.
I played youtube football bloopers on my laptop while we were eating and I thought of Daniel. It was something he might have done. Hi Daniel. At the end of the night, we all got drinks at a Chinese restaurant. I felt like a Jew on Christmas. Hi Sivan.
Dana doesn't read this but I'd like to give her a shoutout anyway for bringing everything together on time, letting me borrow her sexy red Mad Men hostess dress, always laughing at my jokes and appreciating my whimsical spontaneous twirling. If you would like a shoutout, let me know and I could maybe get you a deal on one. I got a guy.
My leaf wreath never happened if you were wondering.
I want to share a sexy song with you. This youtube video I found sucks so you'll have to forgive me and I think you will after you hear it. Just close your eyes but then open them again because I say one more thing at the end.
Only half a menstrual cycle until I'm in Tempe again!
November 21, 2009
I was really hoping this would be more like The Sopranos
Dana and I have this joke, whenever something goes slightly wrong we say "I hate Italy". I drop my gelato on the ground, I hate Italy. The FedEx guy doesn't deliver my mail on time because my name isn't on the buzzer outside, I hate Italy. I can't play SCRABBLE on facebook because I live in an "invalid country", I hate Italy. Actually, these are pretty good reasons to hate Italy. No longer joking. I hate Italy.
That was a joke. I don't hate Italy. I love Italy. I love Rome. I love that dark choco gelato I got that one time, the one with the cherry in the middle. I love the rice pudding I made that I could have made anywhere else but I didn't, I made it in Rome. I love the map I have that's marked with Gs to help me find all the best gelato (I added that feature meself). I love the gelato. I love stumbling past the Coliseum at 4 in the morning. I love Piazza del Popolo, it still knocks me out every time I see it. I love the hot bus drivers, security guards, and carabinieri. I love Trastevere. I love the guy at the enoteca because he knows I always want a little choco with my vino rosso. I love the pine trees. I love my job.
My priest/monk class has grown. Now I have seven students and I'm not even sure anymore who is a priest and who is a monk, they look and sound the same. There's a handsome one. I don't care about his commitment to God, I want to seduce him. My least favorite is the one who answered his cell phone during class. He's never paying attention. Today I wanted to hit him because he kept answering 'has' even though his only choices were 'was' or 'were'. The more I tried to explain it to him the dumber his face looked. The whole class was trying to help him and by the end of it I just wanted him to say the word 'was'. Just say 'was'! That felt like an accomplishment, even though I knew he still had no idea what was going on. I want to kick him out. I don't even know if I am supposed to be grading them or what, if there's a test in the end....no idea. If there is, he will fail. Even if he passes the test, I'll know he cheated and I'll fail him. Epic fail, major pwnage by me, many dinner lulz to follow.
Whenever I'm on top of a hill, I fantasize about throwing my camera off and watching it shatter below. Just to horrify myself.
I'm trying to use the bidet but it's not easy. I think it's something your parents have to show you when you're a kid. It's too awkward to ask my Roman roommate "Can you show me how you wash your asshole?" and youtube doesn't have anything explicit enough.
I don't like to write about things I haven't done yet and I was going to try to get through this blog without mentioning her but I have tickets to see Lady Gaga in Los Angeles December 22nd and I thought you should know.
That was a joke. I don't hate Italy. I love Italy. I love Rome. I love that dark choco gelato I got that one time, the one with the cherry in the middle. I love the rice pudding I made that I could have made anywhere else but I didn't, I made it in Rome. I love the map I have that's marked with Gs to help me find all the best gelato (I added that feature meself). I love the gelato. I love stumbling past the Coliseum at 4 in the morning. I love Piazza del Popolo, it still knocks me out every time I see it. I love the hot bus drivers, security guards, and carabinieri. I love Trastevere. I love the guy at the enoteca because he knows I always want a little choco with my vino rosso. I love the pine trees. I love my job.
My priest/monk class has grown. Now I have seven students and I'm not even sure anymore who is a priest and who is a monk, they look and sound the same. There's a handsome one. I don't care about his commitment to God, I want to seduce him. My least favorite is the one who answered his cell phone during class. He's never paying attention. Today I wanted to hit him because he kept answering 'has' even though his only choices were 'was' or 'were'. The more I tried to explain it to him the dumber his face looked. The whole class was trying to help him and by the end of it I just wanted him to say the word 'was'. Just say 'was'! That felt like an accomplishment, even though I knew he still had no idea what was going on. I want to kick him out. I don't even know if I am supposed to be grading them or what, if there's a test in the end....no idea. If there is, he will fail. Even if he passes the test, I'll know he cheated and I'll fail him. Epic fail, major pwnage by me, many dinner lulz to follow.
Whenever I'm on top of a hill, I fantasize about throwing my camera off and watching it shatter below. Just to horrify myself.
I'm trying to use the bidet but it's not easy. I think it's something your parents have to show you when you're a kid. It's too awkward to ask my Roman roommate "Can you show me how you wash your asshole?" and youtube doesn't have anything explicit enough.
I don't like to write about things I haven't done yet and I was going to try to get through this blog without mentioning her but I have tickets to see Lady Gaga in Los Angeles December 22nd and I thought you should know.
November 16, 2009
Yes We Cat
I had nothing when I got here. Now I have something. That's exciting. I did that. Me!
Jacopo and Emanuele are still cracking me up. They were singing "Let's get physical" at our last lesson. We played my version of Apples to Apples for our lesson on Describing People. I made the mistake of asking them to describe their mother. They said Fat and Angry. I really struggled not to laugh because they're right! She is angry like a fat little pitbull. And for me they said Nice and Kind. Either they're kissing up or they didn't learn the right definition because when Emanuele was rushing me out the door saying "Goodbye, Chelsea, goodbye" I started moving extra slowly just to be a dick. Emanuele is not the boss of me. Of course I had to bring up Lady Gaga. Out of the blue I asked Jacopo if he likes her and he got excited like "Oh! Paparazzi! Yes!" and then I let them listen to her on my ipod. We also devoured a bag of cookies together and I mean I devoured them while they wrestled. They really are learning English, I promise. We played Guess Who? and they were convinced that Joe was a woman and I considered teaching them Gay and Dykey and Flaming because in their school books was this picture/conversation between a young boy and girl hanging out in a bedroom and the boy says "Doris, that red dress is fab!". Maybe next week we'll have a Gay Vocabulary lesson and I'll teach them Fierce and It's Beyond and we can watch Lady Gaga videos. Am I the best gay English teacher or what.
Davide took Dana and I to dinner at his friend's house. I got all giddy about it. There were two women there who were being so friendly and I thought They can't be Italian and sure enough they were Germans. We had shrimp pasta and I was two or three glasses of wine in and accidentally ate the shrimp heads and the shells, all the parts you aren't supposed to eat because sometimes I am a drunk moron. But I was charming the pants off of everyone and that always feels good, to be the cutest funniest person in the room. I was gushing about Lady Gaga and asking them why they have spoons in the living room is it to freebase your drugs? and bringing up my favorite Caravaggio painting. Real charming stuff. It's this one by the way:
Before I went to bed that night I wrote this in my journal "I'm gonna make rice pudding in the morning, I swear to God. Then I'm gonna figure out my fucking life". That's a tall order, drunk Chelsea! I did neither of those things by the way.
I live just north of the Vatican. Impressive, right? I live near the Vatican. Say it out loud and tell me you don't feel cooler. I made an impromptu trip to St. Peter's Basilica yesterday and it made me uneasy. It's so ostentatious and I thought, "Sarah Silverman is right, sell the damn thing". I'm so over it.
Remember when I was living in a tree house in Spain? I never told you this but the lady I was staying with, Ute, I think she hated me. I don't know why. Well I have a theory that it's because she thought I might sleep with her boyfriend but there was definitely no risk of that happening because he was skinny and dirty and he wore chain-link tank tops. And I just wanted Ute to like me, I couldn't have given a shit about Bernie. He was always telling Ute to lose weight and asking me how much I weighed. Sorry we can't all subsist on one watermelon a day like you do, jackal ass. When I spent a few days in Cadiz and came back I said jokingly to Ute "Did you miss me?" and she just straight up said "No". She had a terrible sense of humor. Her and Bernie were always eating dinner and not inviting me to join which is awkward when you are the only three people for miles and miles and you share a home. One time I made pasta sauce and they wouldn't eat it, they used ketchup instead. Plebeians. Plus there was that fucking owl. The best part about the whole thing was the fig tree. If it weren't for that fig tree I may have slept with Bernie just for something to do.
Yusuf/Cat Stevens is performing in London in December and I can't find tickets. I'm only dancing on this earth for a short while and in that short while I would like to see my kitty Cat perform live. Maybe I'll go to the Vatican (I live just north of it) and pray for tickets or ask a friar or a Swiss Guard. They seem to know what's going on. Or I'll go to the Trevi Fountain and throw a coin in behind me and make a wishy wish. Yes, I have been infected with Sivanese. I only say 'choco' now, never 'chocolate'. And I try not to use the word 'amazing' because Sivan hates that word. At least she did in 2005 on her livejournal. Hi Sivany! I love you!
If you have a Naked Kenny story, please email it to me. I'm collecting them for a project I'm doing for December the 9th so I don't feel too terribly terrible on that wretched day in history.
Jacopo and Emanuele are still cracking me up. They were singing "Let's get physical" at our last lesson. We played my version of Apples to Apples for our lesson on Describing People. I made the mistake of asking them to describe their mother. They said Fat and Angry. I really struggled not to laugh because they're right! She is angry like a fat little pitbull. And for me they said Nice and Kind. Either they're kissing up or they didn't learn the right definition because when Emanuele was rushing me out the door saying "Goodbye, Chelsea, goodbye" I started moving extra slowly just to be a dick. Emanuele is not the boss of me. Of course I had to bring up Lady Gaga. Out of the blue I asked Jacopo if he likes her and he got excited like "Oh! Paparazzi! Yes!" and then I let them listen to her on my ipod. We also devoured a bag of cookies together and I mean I devoured them while they wrestled. They really are learning English, I promise. We played Guess Who? and they were convinced that Joe was a woman and I considered teaching them Gay and Dykey and Flaming because in their school books was this picture/conversation between a young boy and girl hanging out in a bedroom and the boy says "Doris, that red dress is fab!". Maybe next week we'll have a Gay Vocabulary lesson and I'll teach them Fierce and It's Beyond and we can watch Lady Gaga videos. Am I the best gay English teacher or what.
Davide took Dana and I to dinner at his friend's house. I got all giddy about it. There were two women there who were being so friendly and I thought They can't be Italian and sure enough they were Germans. We had shrimp pasta and I was two or three glasses of wine in and accidentally ate the shrimp heads and the shells, all the parts you aren't supposed to eat because sometimes I am a drunk moron. But I was charming the pants off of everyone and that always feels good, to be the cutest funniest person in the room. I was gushing about Lady Gaga and asking them why they have spoons in the living room is it to freebase your drugs? and bringing up my favorite Caravaggio painting. Real charming stuff. It's this one by the way:
Before I went to bed that night I wrote this in my journal "I'm gonna make rice pudding in the morning, I swear to God. Then I'm gonna figure out my fucking life". That's a tall order, drunk Chelsea! I did neither of those things by the way.
I live just north of the Vatican. Impressive, right? I live near the Vatican. Say it out loud and tell me you don't feel cooler. I made an impromptu trip to St. Peter's Basilica yesterday and it made me uneasy. It's so ostentatious and I thought, "Sarah Silverman is right, sell the damn thing". I'm so over it.
Remember when I was living in a tree house in Spain? I never told you this but the lady I was staying with, Ute, I think she hated me. I don't know why. Well I have a theory that it's because she thought I might sleep with her boyfriend but there was definitely no risk of that happening because he was skinny and dirty and he wore chain-link tank tops. And I just wanted Ute to like me, I couldn't have given a shit about Bernie. He was always telling Ute to lose weight and asking me how much I weighed. Sorry we can't all subsist on one watermelon a day like you do, jackal ass. When I spent a few days in Cadiz and came back I said jokingly to Ute "Did you miss me?" and she just straight up said "No". She had a terrible sense of humor. Her and Bernie were always eating dinner and not inviting me to join which is awkward when you are the only three people for miles and miles and you share a home. One time I made pasta sauce and they wouldn't eat it, they used ketchup instead. Plebeians. Plus there was that fucking owl. The best part about the whole thing was the fig tree. If it weren't for that fig tree I may have slept with Bernie just for something to do.
Yusuf/Cat Stevens is performing in London in December and I can't find tickets. I'm only dancing on this earth for a short while and in that short while I would like to see my kitty Cat perform live. Maybe I'll go to the Vatican (I live just north of it) and pray for tickets or ask a friar or a Swiss Guard. They seem to know what's going on. Or I'll go to the Trevi Fountain and throw a coin in behind me and make a wishy wish. Yes, I have been infected with Sivanese. I only say 'choco' now, never 'chocolate'. And I try not to use the word 'amazing' because Sivan hates that word. At least she did in 2005 on her livejournal. Hi Sivany! I love you!
If you have a Naked Kenny story, please email it to me. I'm collecting them for a project I'm doing for December the 9th so I don't feel too terribly terrible on that wretched day in history.
November 13, 2009
Mom and Gary Langham's Needlepoint Drug Apology
OMG do I have a boner story for you. It started when I visited the Capuchin crypts. It's a crypt made entirely of the bones of friars. Some of the bones were in tombs made of bones and there were bone walls and bone lamps and bone ceiling flourishes. I only stayed for maybe fifteen minutes because really who can take all those bones. I got on the bus, thinking I'd be bone free on my ride home. I took a seat and almost immediately this guy was rubbing his crotch on my leg. I thought at first that I was imagining it but there was plenty of room for boners on this bus that didn't include my right thigh and also, ain't nothin feels quite like a boner. I shifted and made uncomfortable noises but his boner followed me. I tried making eye contact so I could tell him with my face to stop rubbing his boner on me but he wouldn't look so I just got up and moved.
Boner story over? Not yet. I watched him turn around and rub his boner on another girl. I watched her react and move a little and giggle with her friend about it. He tried to rub his boner on her once more but she made a big obvious move away. I looked at her like This guy with his boner, huh? and we shared a smile.
How could this guy rub his boner on any more ladies, right? Wrong. He turns around and starts rubbing his boner on the lady behind him. I watched her realize what he was doing. I watched her tell her husband who was sitting next to her. Then I watched them awkwardly switch seats. The guy gave up and moved to the other side of the bus, presumably to rub his boner on some more things. I thought how funny it would be if I started rubbing myself on this lady's husband but I resisted. Maybe in America I could get away with something like that but not here. She looked at me like Can you believe this guy and his boner rubbing? No! I can not! He got off at the last stop with me and I watched him get on another bus for more boner rubbing adventure.
I'm normally disappointed in my attempts to connect with strangers here in Rome and I suppose I should be happy that I've found something that can bring us together. Something to bridge all language barriers, all cultural differences. Boners.
You know what else could bring us all together? Lady Gaga. Regardless of your race, color, or creed you have to admit that Lady Gaga is very very cool. Let her unite us in peace and harmony and elephant hair hats. One love. She should be in Japan with Obama right now, patching things up. I don't even know what the problem is there but I know Lady Gaga can fix it. All she has to do is show up in her fire bra and sing Ra ra ah ah ah rama ra mah mah gaga oh la la and the King of Japan will forget all about whatever. Politics is boring, Lady Gaga is the new way.
It's such a good feeling to know you're alive. It's such a happy feeling, this feeling inside. I woke up singing that yesterday and I knew. I jumped right up and had choco hazelnut oatmeal (the current champion of all my oatmeals) and skipped around Rome all day, dancing and smiling and being haphaphappy. I had just had a few days of sad but that first day of happy again is extra super happy. The lady at the crappy fairy figurine shop was on facebook. She's always on facebook and I like that about her. Everyone was staring at me at the bus stop, all the cars driving by. At first I was like Yes I'm hot but then I started to wonder if I was bleeding all over my face because it was seriously every single person driving by, man woman and child but no, I really was that hot. I guess I couldn't keep it in couldn't hide it had to let it out and Rome couldn't help but notice.
That night I invented a new activity. I really like jumping rope, right? But sometimes I get bored. I also really like reading but sometimes that gets boring too. So what did I do? I combined the sweaty excitement of jumping rope with the quiet thoughtfulness of reading into....JUMP READING!!! I jump for as long as I can then I sling the jump rope around my neck and I read my book. Once my heart rate slows down a bit, I start jumping again and I think about what I just read and the cycle continues. Try it at home! But don't forget to drink a lot of water because it's important to stay hydrated.
50 Cent is a good rapper. He is a good rapper because he raps as if somebody came into his bedroom, gently shook him awake and asked him to record a rap. Like he barely lifted his head from his pillow to do it.
I went to a Peace Rally. They had advertised that Bono was going to be performing but I had my doubts. Sure enough it was not Bono but some punk band of 15 year old boys. They played a song called Riot and their teenage girl fans were moshing. Hardly peaceful. A few good things came out of it though. I saw a really mangled cat in the street on the train tracks. The most mangled dead animal I've ever seen, disconnected paws, guts, ew. Then I walked through a park and these boys were playing soccer and the ball came near me and I got to kick it back to them. Kicky! I love kicking. I thought When was the last time I kicked something?
Kenny bought oatmeal once and he kept asking me to make it for him for breakfast but I was like Wah, it takes too long. And look at me now, making oatmeal every damn day like it ain't no thing. It ain't no thing! I'm sorry Kenny. But you know you wouldn't have liked all my crazy concoctions, you would have wanted plain old brown sugar oatmeal every morning you boring jerk. Luckily he had plenty of other boring things to eat. Hot dogs, California Pizza Kitchen, sliders, grapefruit, pickled herring. He also really liked Dole's 100% juice juice and YooHoo and Jones soda. On one of our first dates we got slushies at Sonic and he drank his so fast he got an ice cream headache and he was thrashing around and moaning, I thought he was dying. Turns out, he was dying! That's some good stuff, I know.
If you'd like to know more about what Kenny used to eat, just ask.
Boner story over? Not yet. I watched him turn around and rub his boner on another girl. I watched her react and move a little and giggle with her friend about it. He tried to rub his boner on her once more but she made a big obvious move away. I looked at her like This guy with his boner, huh? and we shared a smile.
How could this guy rub his boner on any more ladies, right? Wrong. He turns around and starts rubbing his boner on the lady behind him. I watched her realize what he was doing. I watched her tell her husband who was sitting next to her. Then I watched them awkwardly switch seats. The guy gave up and moved to the other side of the bus, presumably to rub his boner on some more things. I thought how funny it would be if I started rubbing myself on this lady's husband but I resisted. Maybe in America I could get away with something like that but not here. She looked at me like Can you believe this guy and his boner rubbing? No! I can not! He got off at the last stop with me and I watched him get on another bus for more boner rubbing adventure.
I'm normally disappointed in my attempts to connect with strangers here in Rome and I suppose I should be happy that I've found something that can bring us together. Something to bridge all language barriers, all cultural differences. Boners.
You know what else could bring us all together? Lady Gaga. Regardless of your race, color, or creed you have to admit that Lady Gaga is very very cool. Let her unite us in peace and harmony and elephant hair hats. One love. She should be in Japan with Obama right now, patching things up. I don't even know what the problem is there but I know Lady Gaga can fix it. All she has to do is show up in her fire bra and sing Ra ra ah ah ah rama ra mah mah gaga oh la la and the King of Japan will forget all about whatever. Politics is boring, Lady Gaga is the new way.
It's such a good feeling to know you're alive. It's such a happy feeling, this feeling inside. I woke up singing that yesterday and I knew. I jumped right up and had choco hazelnut oatmeal (the current champion of all my oatmeals) and skipped around Rome all day, dancing and smiling and being haphaphappy. I had just had a few days of sad but that first day of happy again is extra super happy. The lady at the crappy fairy figurine shop was on facebook. She's always on facebook and I like that about her. Everyone was staring at me at the bus stop, all the cars driving by. At first I was like Yes I'm hot but then I started to wonder if I was bleeding all over my face because it was seriously every single person driving by, man woman and child but no, I really was that hot. I guess I couldn't keep it in couldn't hide it had to let it out and Rome couldn't help but notice.
That night I invented a new activity. I really like jumping rope, right? But sometimes I get bored. I also really like reading but sometimes that gets boring too. So what did I do? I combined the sweaty excitement of jumping rope with the quiet thoughtfulness of reading into....JUMP READING!!! I jump for as long as I can then I sling the jump rope around my neck and I read my book. Once my heart rate slows down a bit, I start jumping again and I think about what I just read and the cycle continues. Try it at home! But don't forget to drink a lot of water because it's important to stay hydrated.
50 Cent is a good rapper. He is a good rapper because he raps as if somebody came into his bedroom, gently shook him awake and asked him to record a rap. Like he barely lifted his head from his pillow to do it.
I went to a Peace Rally. They had advertised that Bono was going to be performing but I had my doubts. Sure enough it was not Bono but some punk band of 15 year old boys. They played a song called Riot and their teenage girl fans were moshing. Hardly peaceful. A few good things came out of it though. I saw a really mangled cat in the street on the train tracks. The most mangled dead animal I've ever seen, disconnected paws, guts, ew. Then I walked through a park and these boys were playing soccer and the ball came near me and I got to kick it back to them. Kicky! I love kicking. I thought When was the last time I kicked something?
Kenny bought oatmeal once and he kept asking me to make it for him for breakfast but I was like Wah, it takes too long. And look at me now, making oatmeal every damn day like it ain't no thing. It ain't no thing! I'm sorry Kenny. But you know you wouldn't have liked all my crazy concoctions, you would have wanted plain old brown sugar oatmeal every morning you boring jerk. Luckily he had plenty of other boring things to eat. Hot dogs, California Pizza Kitchen, sliders, grapefruit, pickled herring. He also really liked Dole's 100% juice juice and YooHoo and Jones soda. On one of our first dates we got slushies at Sonic and he drank his so fast he got an ice cream headache and he was thrashing around and moaning, I thought he was dying. Turns out, he was dying! That's some good stuff, I know.
If you'd like to know more about what Kenny used to eat, just ask.
November 10, 2009
If I wanted to read, I'd watch television
I went to this buffet last night and pigged right out. The guy next to me asked where I was from. I told him I came all the way from Arizona just to come to this buffet. He kind of laughed but then he stopped talking to me. I wish the Italians appreciated my sweet jokes. At least Dana does.
Porco dio! Porco dio infame! Porco grandissimo dio! These are pretty bad Italian swears. Pig god! Infamous pig god! Very big pig god!
I went to an Italian bookstore and would have left but the guy working was cute. He asked me something, I said I don’t speak Italian and he said “You should learn, buy a dictionary”. I would like to think this was a sales pitch. I asked him where the cookbooks were and he said “They’re in Italian” and I just kind of mumbled something like ‘Yes I know but’ and trailed off. Another successful interaction with a man!
I had this boyfriend in 6th grade, Tim Allen. I was obsessed with him. One time at a basketball game I stole his left shoe and I wouldn’t give it back. I wanted to smell it. I kept it up to my nose the entire bus ride home. I thought it smelled like roses. I said that. “Your shoe smells like roses”. We saw Major Payne together. I wanted him to sneak into my room at night and take me away but he was twelve and didn’t know how to be romantic. The next year, I liked a boy named Matt and the mean girls wrote me a note “from Matt” asking me out and I said yes and thought Matt was my boyfriend all week until they announced on the bus that “NO, WRONG! Matt is not your boyfriend, idiot, that was us. Isn’t that a funny joke that everyone but you was in on?” and I wanted to say “Well, you’re adopted!” because one of the mean girls was in fact adopted but instead I laughed along with them. I was actually kind of impressed that they got Matt in on the joke too and I thought that must be a sign that he likes me. The year after that I was in love with a new boy and a new girl. And on and on, I've never stopped falling in love even though it usually always mostly hurts.
I made a disgusting discovery. My oat milk curdled. I think I was drinking it like that for a few days too, maybe even a whole week. I don’t understand you, milk, but I hate you. I mean, I don’t understand you and I hate you.
It was raining so I went to the Pantheon. Right when I got there it stopped but I thought, no biggie, I’ll just hang out here until it starts again. Rain always starts again. I wanted to see it come through the roof because that’s supposed to be a cool thing to see. I waited two hours, no rain. They closed the Pantheon, they kicked everyone out, they were like Git out! Git! Go on, git! Five minutes later, it started raining. I hate Italy. For not raining when I want it to rain and for not having any strip joints. Where am I supposed to see all my titties?
There are plenty of other things to do in Rome besides look at titties actually. You can look at the Coliseum, look at all the churches, look at the Pantheon, look at the Pantheon while it's raining. They don't call it the Eternal City for nothing! It would really take an eternity to see it all! Rome: a lifetime isn't enough. After all, it wasn't built in a day. So while I'm here I might as well do as the Romans do and live la dolce vita. For example, yesterday I had riso alla cannella gelato and I just about died. I thought This is la dolce vita, I am living it! If only there were more titties, it would be heaven on Earth.
I wish I had someone, maybe a pet pig, who thought I was as interesting as I think I am. I want to give someone a detailed account of how I made dinner and what it tasted like and what my plans for the leftovers are and I want them to think it’s fascinating how I do what I do. Would a pig do that for me? I want to tell someone about how it hurts when I’m jumping rope and I whip my toes with it and it stings so bad and I hiss porco dio porco dio and I wear a funny ponytail on the top of my head too, how cute is that. I want that somebody to know why these things are important to me. I just want to be understood. Who doesn't. Pigs are smart, maybe they know when to feign interest and how to do it convincingly. I don't need something that talks, that just gets in the way. Do pigs laugh though? Or can they at least be trained to laugh? I need to be laughed at. Also, can pigs make money? Oh boy, it sounds like someone's got a lot to learn about pigs!
We had this poster hanging in our kitchen when I was a kid and I loved to study it. It's better than the real periodic table if you ask me.
Porco dio! Porco dio infame! Porco grandissimo dio! These are pretty bad Italian swears. Pig god! Infamous pig god! Very big pig god!
I went to an Italian bookstore and would have left but the guy working was cute. He asked me something, I said I don’t speak Italian and he said “You should learn, buy a dictionary”. I would like to think this was a sales pitch. I asked him where the cookbooks were and he said “They’re in Italian” and I just kind of mumbled something like ‘Yes I know but’ and trailed off. Another successful interaction with a man!
I had this boyfriend in 6th grade, Tim Allen. I was obsessed with him. One time at a basketball game I stole his left shoe and I wouldn’t give it back. I wanted to smell it. I kept it up to my nose the entire bus ride home. I thought it smelled like roses. I said that. “Your shoe smells like roses”. We saw Major Payne together. I wanted him to sneak into my room at night and take me away but he was twelve and didn’t know how to be romantic. The next year, I liked a boy named Matt and the mean girls wrote me a note “from Matt” asking me out and I said yes and thought Matt was my boyfriend all week until they announced on the bus that “NO, WRONG! Matt is not your boyfriend, idiot, that was us. Isn’t that a funny joke that everyone but you was in on?” and I wanted to say “Well, you’re adopted!” because one of the mean girls was in fact adopted but instead I laughed along with them. I was actually kind of impressed that they got Matt in on the joke too and I thought that must be a sign that he likes me. The year after that I was in love with a new boy and a new girl. And on and on, I've never stopped falling in love even though it usually always mostly hurts.
I made a disgusting discovery. My oat milk curdled. I think I was drinking it like that for a few days too, maybe even a whole week. I don’t understand you, milk, but I hate you. I mean, I don’t understand you and I hate you.
It was raining so I went to the Pantheon. Right when I got there it stopped but I thought, no biggie, I’ll just hang out here until it starts again. Rain always starts again. I wanted to see it come through the roof because that’s supposed to be a cool thing to see. I waited two hours, no rain. They closed the Pantheon, they kicked everyone out, they were like Git out! Git! Go on, git! Five minutes later, it started raining. I hate Italy. For not raining when I want it to rain and for not having any strip joints. Where am I supposed to see all my titties?
There are plenty of other things to do in Rome besides look at titties actually. You can look at the Coliseum, look at all the churches, look at the Pantheon, look at the Pantheon while it's raining. They don't call it the Eternal City for nothing! It would really take an eternity to see it all! Rome: a lifetime isn't enough. After all, it wasn't built in a day. So while I'm here I might as well do as the Romans do and live la dolce vita. For example, yesterday I had riso alla cannella gelato and I just about died. I thought This is la dolce vita, I am living it! If only there were more titties, it would be heaven on Earth.
I wish I had someone, maybe a pet pig, who thought I was as interesting as I think I am. I want to give someone a detailed account of how I made dinner and what it tasted like and what my plans for the leftovers are and I want them to think it’s fascinating how I do what I do. Would a pig do that for me? I want to tell someone about how it hurts when I’m jumping rope and I whip my toes with it and it stings so bad and I hiss porco dio porco dio and I wear a funny ponytail on the top of my head too, how cute is that. I want that somebody to know why these things are important to me. I just want to be understood. Who doesn't. Pigs are smart, maybe they know when to feign interest and how to do it convincingly. I don't need something that talks, that just gets in the way. Do pigs laugh though? Or can they at least be trained to laugh? I need to be laughed at. Also, can pigs make money? Oh boy, it sounds like someone's got a lot to learn about pigs!
We had this poster hanging in our kitchen when I was a kid and I loved to study it. It's better than the real periodic table if you ask me.
November 6, 2009
generating my own THC
What I Love Right Now Today:
1. myself
a. for making pumpkin stew using a real pumpkin and then toasting the pumpkin seeds and not wasting
b. for the tuna and artichoke salad I'm making tonight
c. for the brussel sprouts with dried figs and bacon I'm making tomorrow
2. the guy in our building who sings opera every morning
3. the heart-breakingly beautiful boy who plays Max in Where The Wild Things Are. I've been seeing his face all over Rome but I can't see the movie and it's breaking my heart
4. the heat gods for turning the heat on. The heat is on. The heat is oooooooon.
5. the strong urge I have to play basketball
6. the bidet in my bathroom but not the community towel I am expected to use with it
7. the lion/magnifying glass/decoder I got with my choco
8. finding sunflower seeds in my bra
I'd like to make it an even ten but there aren't two more things I can think of. Oh wait, yes.
9. the New York Times
10. Dana
a. for being jealous of my lion/magnifying glass/decoder but restraining from punching me
b. for knowing to offer to buy my pants
c. for lying about reading my blog
The next time I wake up and it's raining I'm heading straight for the Pantheon to watch it pour through the atrium above.
Me: I like to have a glass of wine while I cook.
Anonymous: I like to have three glasses of wine before I sleep with someone.
If you love someone you have to tell them. You have to show them, more importantly. Show and tell. If I think of someone I love, I contact them and I tell them and then I think of a way to show them and I achieve it. That's why I'm cool. I used to love myself for always having blank cards and envelopes. Now I love myself for remembering why I love people and being clear enough to remember to tell them. I tell myself "I love you". I show myself "I love you" too but I couldn't begin to explain how because there's too much and it would bore you. I hope you start loving yourself today. Go out on a date. Be romantic. Light some candles. Go to Brighton Beach (or your state's equivalent) like you've always promised you would.
And if you really love someone, you gotta learn to let them go.
Love is a place and I am there. I'm at Love.
Bananas and oatmeal are meant for one another and isn't that a beautiful thought. Bananas and oatmeal should never be apart. Bananas and oatmeal exist purely for PROCKreation resulting in hot steamy bowls of healthy good morning babies. This became clear to me when I saw how seamlessly they melted into one another's food arms. I can no longer see myself simply peeling a banana and eating it. It's ludicrous. What would be the point? And a bowl of oatmeal with no banana well I can't even dignify that with a complete thought. I believe in their love so strongly that if banana and oatmeal wanted me to stand up for them at their wedding, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd be happy to do it and I wouldn't complain for one second about the money I would have to spend on the dress. I can't even be jealous of what they have together, it's so pure and beautiful I wouldn't think of ruining it with my own mishagas.
It is acceptable to add peanut butter into the mix but only on weekends and only if banana and oatmeal make it clear that they are in this for the fun of it and nothing further should develop that might threaten their bond which is too strong to really be threatened anyway. Walnuts have tried and failed and walked away in shame. Raisins have been sent home in taxis. But peanut butter practices discretion as gracefully as Grace Kelly might if she were to be practicing indiscretions with bowls of banana oatmeal. Peanut butter knows why they're doing this. Peanut butter isn't pushy or clingy and it can distinguish the difference between true love and breakfast time experiments. Everyone experiments at breakfast.
The great thing about peanut butter is it's a secret genius which is so hot and in its more intimate moments, peanut butter turns into tiger butter like Little Black Sambo made, sexy and soft and dangerous. I'm trying to find a companion for peanut butter since banana and oatmeal have their own thing going on. Jelly is tired. Nutella is memorable and can make you scream it's so bad but if we're talking long-term it's just too much. Peanut butter is ready for something more challenging anyway. You have to know when to move on, you know? Stop trying with the jelly already. Go and love some more, peanut butter, go and love some more.
It's not that I think peanut butter needs a companion. Peanut butter is great on its own. I think we can all agree on that. It's rich and filling and fulfilled. It's strong enough to stand alone without the aid of even a slice of bread, just a spoon or a finger or a long adventurous tongue. Sometimes I think it's even better by itself without all the jerky flavors and overbearing textures that get in the way of its creamy peanuty buttery path. Because peanut butter has goals you know, and dreams. But. And this is a big but. It would be nice to share the peanut butter. Just because it doesn't need a companion doesn't mean it shouldn't have one. It has so much to offer after all. I have to believe that there is some foodstuff out there that is worthy enough to share in the yumminess of life with peanut butter, to complement it and possibly even improve upon it. Of course there's no use speculating, I'll know it when I see it. Peanut butter doesn't kiss boys, boys kiss peanut butter. None of this matters anyway because peanut butter has got guts. Okay, enough already, I'm peanut butter. It's me. Maybe it didn't start out as me but it became me. I'm also really talking about peanut butter though, it's strange how much we're alike. I'm thinking of almonds and I'm also considering apples.
I wish I could catch fish like Ernie did on Sesame Street by shouting RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN.
If you read this and you are not an official follower, I urge you to make yourself known. Reach out to me. I will return the favor with love. That's the theme today anyway. I want to write to you and for you and about you. You know I will, my heart is so big and full of it.
1. myself
a. for making pumpkin stew using a real pumpkin and then toasting the pumpkin seeds and not wasting
b. for the tuna and artichoke salad I'm making tonight
c. for the brussel sprouts with dried figs and bacon I'm making tomorrow
2. the guy in our building who sings opera every morning
3. the heart-breakingly beautiful boy who plays Max in Where The Wild Things Are. I've been seeing his face all over Rome but I can't see the movie and it's breaking my heart
4. the heat gods for turning the heat on. The heat is on. The heat is oooooooon.
5. the strong urge I have to play basketball
6. the bidet in my bathroom but not the community towel I am expected to use with it
7. the lion/magnifying glass/decoder I got with my choco
8. finding sunflower seeds in my bra
I'd like to make it an even ten but there aren't two more things I can think of. Oh wait, yes.
9. the New York Times
10. Dana
a. for being jealous of my lion/magnifying glass/decoder but restraining from punching me
b. for knowing to offer to buy my pants
c. for lying about reading my blog
The next time I wake up and it's raining I'm heading straight for the Pantheon to watch it pour through the atrium above.
Me: I like to have a glass of wine while I cook.
Anonymous: I like to have three glasses of wine before I sleep with someone.
If you love someone you have to tell them. You have to show them, more importantly. Show and tell. If I think of someone I love, I contact them and I tell them and then I think of a way to show them and I achieve it. That's why I'm cool. I used to love myself for always having blank cards and envelopes. Now I love myself for remembering why I love people and being clear enough to remember to tell them. I tell myself "I love you". I show myself "I love you" too but I couldn't begin to explain how because there's too much and it would bore you. I hope you start loving yourself today. Go out on a date. Be romantic. Light some candles. Go to Brighton Beach (or your state's equivalent) like you've always promised you would.
And if you really love someone, you gotta learn to let them go.
Love is a place and I am there. I'm at Love.
Bananas and oatmeal are meant for one another and isn't that a beautiful thought. Bananas and oatmeal should never be apart. Bananas and oatmeal exist purely for PROCKreation resulting in hot steamy bowls of healthy good morning babies. This became clear to me when I saw how seamlessly they melted into one another's food arms. I can no longer see myself simply peeling a banana and eating it. It's ludicrous. What would be the point? And a bowl of oatmeal with no banana well I can't even dignify that with a complete thought. I believe in their love so strongly that if banana and oatmeal wanted me to stand up for them at their wedding, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd be happy to do it and I wouldn't complain for one second about the money I would have to spend on the dress. I can't even be jealous of what they have together, it's so pure and beautiful I wouldn't think of ruining it with my own mishagas.
It is acceptable to add peanut butter into the mix but only on weekends and only if banana and oatmeal make it clear that they are in this for the fun of it and nothing further should develop that might threaten their bond which is too strong to really be threatened anyway. Walnuts have tried and failed and walked away in shame. Raisins have been sent home in taxis. But peanut butter practices discretion as gracefully as Grace Kelly might if she were to be practicing indiscretions with bowls of banana oatmeal. Peanut butter knows why they're doing this. Peanut butter isn't pushy or clingy and it can distinguish the difference between true love and breakfast time experiments. Everyone experiments at breakfast.
The great thing about peanut butter is it's a secret genius which is so hot and in its more intimate moments, peanut butter turns into tiger butter like Little Black Sambo made, sexy and soft and dangerous. I'm trying to find a companion for peanut butter since banana and oatmeal have their own thing going on. Jelly is tired. Nutella is memorable and can make you scream it's so bad but if we're talking long-term it's just too much. Peanut butter is ready for something more challenging anyway. You have to know when to move on, you know? Stop trying with the jelly already. Go and love some more, peanut butter, go and love some more.
It's not that I think peanut butter needs a companion. Peanut butter is great on its own. I think we can all agree on that. It's rich and filling and fulfilled. It's strong enough to stand alone without the aid of even a slice of bread, just a spoon or a finger or a long adventurous tongue. Sometimes I think it's even better by itself without all the jerky flavors and overbearing textures that get in the way of its creamy peanuty buttery path. Because peanut butter has goals you know, and dreams. But. And this is a big but. It would be nice to share the peanut butter. Just because it doesn't need a companion doesn't mean it shouldn't have one. It has so much to offer after all. I have to believe that there is some foodstuff out there that is worthy enough to share in the yumminess of life with peanut butter, to complement it and possibly even improve upon it. Of course there's no use speculating, I'll know it when I see it. Peanut butter doesn't kiss boys, boys kiss peanut butter. None of this matters anyway because peanut butter has got guts. Okay, enough already, I'm peanut butter. It's me. Maybe it didn't start out as me but it became me. I'm also really talking about peanut butter though, it's strange how much we're alike. I'm thinking of almonds and I'm also considering apples.
I wish I could catch fish like Ernie did on Sesame Street by shouting RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN RAIN.
If you read this and you are not an official follower, I urge you to make yourself known. Reach out to me. I will return the favor with love. That's the theme today anyway. I want to write to you and for you and about you. You know I will, my heart is so big and full of it.
November 3, 2009
Ho Fame
I think I have the anorexia virus. It's been dormant this whole time but under the right conditions I know it's going to spring to life and attack me. Who knows where I picked it up, it could have been anywhere. I have a lot of the ingredients: an obsession with food, an inability to see my body the way it really is, a belief that control over my body is synonymous with control over my life, a high level of restraint, and a fear of being overweight (thank you wikipedia). The one thing I do have that's getting in the way is a strong desire to eat. I also have a pretty high self-esteem. But change one of those factors slightly and BAM I'ma get anorexia. So unless you want me to stop menstruating and grow fur all over my body and eventually die, you better keep feeding me and telling me how beautiful I am. This is not a cry for help. It's something I've always thought about it and I'm sharing it with you because I don't got to lie to hang.
You don't kiss boys, boys kiss you. I learned that from Mad Men.
A gypsy family on the bus taught me a life lesson. The mommy gypsy had fucked up teeth and one glassy cloudy eye and burn scars. The daddy gypsy had a huge open boil on his face. And the baby gypsy was dirty and crying and lifting up the mommy's shirt to breastfeed but she was so skinny she really didn't have anything to offer. It was kind of hard to watch. But they were smiling and being in love and so happy too. I don't know what lesson I learned but I know I learned it.
Dana and I went to a Vegan Festival and it was pretty lame so we decided to get some meat. We ate at our favorite trattoria in Trastevere, the one we went to on our first date. Davide met us there. I had spaghetti carbonara and heaps of tiramisu for dessert, just so you know I'm still eating. The waiter filled a bottle with tap water and tried to pull it off like it wasn't tap water but Dana figured it out. She cracked that case wide open. Anyway, there was a guy sitting nearby all alone and we struck up a conversation with him and he had just arrived in Rome like an hour previously and we ended up hanging out with him all night. We even went to Burger King where I did not eat but everyone else did. I laughed so much and felt so young. I love making new friends, I love being a friendly person and being friends with other friendly people. I'm going to write a song called Making Connections and it's going to be about making connections, in the style of Elton John. This is what Rome is doing to me. I donut want to leave. Burger King sells donuts which I will think about eating but probably won't.
I love the little dance flourishes I do in public while listening to my ipod. Frank Sinatra came on and I kind of twirled myself onto the bus like Debbie Reynolds. What an entrance! It's like life is a musical and we're all the stars and everyone who isn't you is the audience and the bus is the stage and the sun is the light and the sun IS the light.
Shoutouts to Lenox and Alix.
You don't kiss boys, boys kiss you. I learned that from Mad Men.
A gypsy family on the bus taught me a life lesson. The mommy gypsy had fucked up teeth and one glassy cloudy eye and burn scars. The daddy gypsy had a huge open boil on his face. And the baby gypsy was dirty and crying and lifting up the mommy's shirt to breastfeed but she was so skinny she really didn't have anything to offer. It was kind of hard to watch. But they were smiling and being in love and so happy too. I don't know what lesson I learned but I know I learned it.
Dana and I went to a Vegan Festival and it was pretty lame so we decided to get some meat. We ate at our favorite trattoria in Trastevere, the one we went to on our first date. Davide met us there. I had spaghetti carbonara and heaps of tiramisu for dessert, just so you know I'm still eating. The waiter filled a bottle with tap water and tried to pull it off like it wasn't tap water but Dana figured it out. She cracked that case wide open. Anyway, there was a guy sitting nearby all alone and we struck up a conversation with him and he had just arrived in Rome like an hour previously and we ended up hanging out with him all night. We even went to Burger King where I did not eat but everyone else did. I laughed so much and felt so young. I love making new friends, I love being a friendly person and being friends with other friendly people. I'm going to write a song called Making Connections and it's going to be about making connections, in the style of Elton John. This is what Rome is doing to me. I donut want to leave. Burger King sells donuts which I will think about eating but probably won't.
I love the little dance flourishes I do in public while listening to my ipod. Frank Sinatra came on and I kind of twirled myself onto the bus like Debbie Reynolds. What an entrance! It's like life is a musical and we're all the stars and everyone who isn't you is the audience and the bus is the stage and the sun is the light and the sun IS the light.
Shoutouts to Lenox and Alix.
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