This year marked the 10 year anniversary of when I graduated from Western High School in Las Vegas Nevada. About a month or two ago I started to receive Facebook alerts for an event created by a girl who was the most popular female in our senior class. She was setting up for our reunion and was looking to get everyone involved in it which was when I first got apprehensive about the whole thing. Growing up you always imagine your reunion to be held in the gym of your high school where they have an open bar (limit two drinks per person) and you walk around with a nametag so that the people who didn’t know you/give a shit about knowing you can pretend to remember your name and talk about their kids and health care plans. Apparently at our school, if you want a reunion you have to pay for and set that beast up all by yourselves so that was kind of disappointing. They locked down the location recently and it is to be held at a local, tiny, and also fairly crappy bar/pub that accommodates about 80 people. It’s a dive bar. Not a good one either. I mean, it’s almost fitting to have it at a bar since this is Vegas and clichés and what-not but really? Not even one of the millions of banquet halls or venues all over Las Vegas, the best they could do was a tiny bar. Thanks guys. Another thing that makes me apprehensive about attending this event is that I didn’t really like HS. It wasn’t some blasty blast filled with crazy parties and wild times. I spent most of my free time in those days in my room playing N64 and PS1 games or studying my lines for the next school play. I had a few friends of course but these are people who are still my friends to this day so if I wanna get drunk at some shit bar with them all I have to do is send out a few texts. Why would I want to go hang out in a smokey room with a bunch of people who used to call me Daria? Maybe I can reconnect with that cunt who bullied me like “Hey remember when you put white out on my backpack and thought it was the funniest thing ever? Yeeeahhhh good times, man.” Fuck that. No thank you. Although I gotta say, it would be great to rub a few things in their faces like how the majority of them are now hideously overweight and unemployed whereas I have aged like fucking wine and have a kickass job where I get to wear a suit and be bossy. Or that the girl who used to sit in the back of the class wearing baggy sweaters in the summer and no makeup now has a Tumblr page dedicated to her and even managed to gain one or two internet fans for just being myself. I am not the same person I was then and they wouldn’t even recognize me now so what point is there in going to some bar I hate and pretending to be stoked to see them? It just seems like such a stupid tradition to me. When I think of reunions I think of Grosse Pointe Blank and Romy and Michelle but that isn’t how it is. No synchronized dancing, no exciting moments when the nerd finally puts the prom queen in her place. It’s a bunch of aging people trying to hold onto the past by reminiscing for a few hours about how life was before they all had 4 kids and a mortgage. The glory days. I don’t want or need that because my life now is substantially better than it was back then. It feels like taking a giant step back into a time when I hated myself and pretty much hated everything else. Maybe if I don’t go, a small part of me will regret it when I’m 50 but luckily I live in the now so what 50 year old Vuko wants is entirely unimportant. That bitch is on her own.
Moving On Down June 6, 2013
I hate moving. Most people do so this announcement should come as a shock to nobody, but I have about 100 brand new reasons to despise this standard and agitating process. It all started in mid-April when I told my friend Jenny that I was looking for a house to rent, as my current lease would be ending in June. She provided me with the contact information for the realtor she had used when finding her home and I immediately sent him an email with details about what I was looking for. He got back to me within the hour and thus began the search for my new home. I picked out a few homes in April but John (my realtor) informed me that it is best to wait until closer to your move-in date to avoid paying what is known as a holding fee for the home which basically means: if you are gonna put in an application for a house in April but aren’t going to be moving in until June, you still have to pay for them to hold the house for you as they could be renting it to someone that is ready to move in sooner so I tool his advice and waited until mid-May to start going to look at homes in person. Our initial search was disappointing but on our second outing I found the one I wanted. A perfect little single story with a beautiful backyard and big kitchen, located just mere miles from my work office. We filled out the paperwork and handed in all the necessary info on the 23rd of May. I waited until the 25th to contact the leasing agent for the home at which time she told me “Oops I left your application at the office so I won’t be able to look at it until Monday! Sorry”. The Monday she was referring to was the date I had planned on moving into the new place so you can understand my frustration but I gave her the benefit of the doubt and waited patiently for Monday. Monday came and then I received an email from John basically saying that we were approved on C Status which is realtor jargon for ‘contingent status’. Turns out they had to speak with the owners of the home first to see if they were going to allow my two cats to live in the house but the owners are old people who are retired and ‘travel often’ so they were unable to reach them. I then had to extend my current lease to give myself some time to hear back from this horrible little leasing agent named Judi who I wish nothing but bad things on, and that cost me a sad amount of money. On June 3rd I decided to go ahead and look at a few other homes to have a backup while I waited on Judi’s bitch ass and ended up finding a two story house that was ok but I didn’t really like it enough to pump the 2 grand it would cost to move in into a home that I felt was just ‘ok’. After a day or two of serious thinking mixed in with the occasional bout of sobbing like an infant over the amount of stress this was causing me, I decided to swallow my pride and settle for another apartment. I arrived at work on the 6th and as soon as I opened my laptop I checked Apartment Guide’s website to find something I could settle for. All the places I really liked were in the range of $1200-$1600 per month and the last thing I wanted to do was pay more than a grand for some apartment that I don’t love so again, I found myself having to settle for something that was ‘ok’. Is the new place as nice as the place i’d been living for the past year? No. But it is $500 cheaper than my old place so my need to be frugal overpowered my need to have a place that is ‘pretty’. What can I say, I like nice things. I want granite counters, hardwood floors, direct access garages and top of the line appliances but I also don’t want to pay out the ass for said things so a compromise had to be made. It’s like paying for a hooker: sure, you want the $3,000 per hour girl to come rock your world but hey man, you got bills to pay so you end up getting a $50 blowjob from Trixie in the Home Depot parking lot. Sure, you didn’t get the sex you wanted but hey, at least you got your dick sucked. It’s the little things that matter most.
“Hateful, Planet of the Apes Scarecrows” December 18, 2012
The other day I was watching a movie on Netflix titled Kevin Smith:Burn In Hell and in it he addresses the group of people from the well known Westboro Baptist Church. They had a beef with him over the movie Red State (awesome movie btw) and called Kevin to inform him that they would be picketing the release of it. He actually offered the Phelps family 5 tickets to see the movie because he felt that if they were going to hold signs about how much they hated it, they should at least see it first. They not only accepted, but they went as far as to ask for 15 tickets in total. I found that interesting.
As most of you are aware, they have now planned to picket the funerals for the victims of the recent and unbelievably tragic Connecticut shootings. I read that they had claimed the shooting occurred due to “homosexuality in our country” and I just couldn’t even begin to wrap my mind around how utterly insane that sounds. Then I realized something. These hate mongering bipeds are only doing these things to get attention. Not to praise God or Jesus or to spread his word, but to get attention like some love-starved 13 year old child who was never hugged. These people are nothing but a group of total Sociopaths that only act like lunatics to feed their need to be payed attention to. Do you honestly think they would have gone to see Red State if there wasn’t a media circus involved? No way. If they truly hated the film and though it was blasphemous they would have simply picketed the movie and refused to see it. Instead, they called Smith on a podcast to inform him they would be picketing just to ensure that people heard about it. All for attention.
We can’t make them stop. The First Amendment of the United States Constitution protects the right to freedom of religion and freedom of expression from government interference. This is a double-edged sword. We have the right to speak our minds, even if it’s the most ignorant mass of hate-vomit imaginable. We can do things to help lessen their hatred like counter-picketing them or doing what the Texas A&M students did and form a human chain to physically block them from the area, but aside from that there isn’t much else we can do. Do you really want to know how to get rid of the Westboro Baptist Church? Stop paying attention to them. Stop putting them on the news. Stop giving them air time. Stop having them be featured in interviews on national television. They thrive on that shit like a sponge sucking up liquid. The more you talk about them, even if it’s about how much you loathe them, the happier they are. Sadly, the MacManus brothers from The Boondock Saints do not exist so they are not around to exact their special brand of vigilante justice. That means we will just have to fight them in a more peaceful way. The same way your mother taught you to deter bullies in grade school: If you ignore them, eventually they will get bored and stop. Even if they still exist and are always sitting in their creepy little shack of a church singing hymns about how much the flying spaghetti monster dislikes homosexuality, at least the lack of attention will cause them to stop picketing the funerals of innocent babies and soldiers. If there weren’t going to be news articles and media coverage about it, they wouldn’t be there. That church has been open since 1955. They didn’t start with these high profile funeral protests until people started putting them on T.V. Maybe I’m wrong, and maybe they would be doing that horrible shit regardless of whether or not they would get attention for it but I honestly feel like they are nothing more than a bunch of “look ate me, look at me!” sociopaths who we need to sweep under the rug and ignore.
I’d be lying if I said my first solution wasn’t violence. There are few things in this world that would bring me more joy than to curb stomp at least half the members of that ‘church’ but at the end of the day, it is not our place to hurt others. We can’t punish them for mentally hurting people by physically hurting them. As the saying goes “An Eye For An Eye Makes The Whole World Blind”. I think the hardest part of letting go of wanting pain to come to them was the mentality that they were basically “getting away with it”. No punishment for being so hateful, but sadly there is currently no law against being a bastard of a human being. Again though, it is not our place to hurt them and it would make us no better than they are to mob on them like torch wielding townspeople descending upon the location of Frankenstein’s Monster no matter how much we feel that’s what they deserve. Be the better person. Prove we are more evolved than they are. Ignore the hate.
Sinisterly Bad November 21, 2012
Yesterday I went onto my Twitter page and asked my followers/friends if they had any suggestions on good horror movies to watch as I was in a mood for spookyness. I got numerous suggestions, most of which were to watch films I had already seen but one name seemed to pop up more than any other and that film is called Sinister. I
downloaded the movie bought it legally at some store of some kind then when I got home I snuggled up on the couch with my bong in hand, ready to subject my eyes to the impending gore. Little did I know I was about to sit through an hour and 26 minutes of the wrong movie. Oh yes, I had mistakenly downloaded purchased a movie called Sinister that had come out in 2011 and not the newer film which came out this year. I didn’t even realize I had the wrong film until afterwards when I said to myself “That can’t be right..that movie was way too crappy” and googled it to find out if there were in fact more than one version of this movie and sure enough, there was. Just how bad was the version I watched? Let me paint you a picture:
The movie begins with a middle-aged brunette woman (with severely fried hair) getting into very minor traffic collision with a spooky gentleman rocking dreadlocks and a half shaved head who is also driving a hearse because he is a fucking weirdo and that is what weirdos do I guess. Shaved head man then puts a curse on fried hair lady to seek vengeance for…well…putting a tiny dent in his creepy vehicle. It becomes more and more evident as the film progresses that shaved head man is in dire need of some anger management therapy because he curses anyone that even slightly annoys him. Fat guy bumps into him on the stairs so he curses fat man and said fatty gets hit by a car. A woman was rude to him so he made a voodoo doll of her and drowned her and her less than impressive titties in the bathtub. Now look, I can dig that people suck sometimes and if I had a dollar for every time I wanted to Galick Gun somebody I would be Oprah rich but geez dude, you can’t just murder everyone who annoys you in the slightest way. Sitting there in your weird voodoo room, lighting candles, chanting, and painting your finger nails black while you hex others is just not kosher. I’d also like to point out that this movie was extremely low-budget. Like the “let’s grab Uncle Joe-Bob’s camera and go film a movie in my rich dad’s house” kind of low-budget. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing as a movie doesn’t have to cost millions to make in order to be good but this movie was just sooo poorly filmed and edited that it was painful to watch but let’s get back to the “plot”. The girl with fried hair goes home and starts to notice creepy things happening to her like bells in other rooms ringing when nobody is around, the piano begins to play itself which is also just suuuper original (she said sarcastically), and she starts to see things that aren’t there like bugs in her bed, shadows, etc. At one point she awakens to find her bed covered in cockroaches, but does she scream and jump out of the bed? Nope. She stares at the bugs and makes weird faces that one can only assume was meant to portray being frightened. The acting was so crap-ass that I can’t be sure what anyone was feeling at any point as they all had the emotional range of a llama. The guy they hired to play the lead girl’s brother was so bad that he had to have been someones stoner cousin that they had to put into the film for family reasons. In fact, I don’t think they even paid him cash, there had to have been some form of bartering like they traded his poor acting skills in the film for 3 bags of Cool Ranch Doritos. Possibly a sandwich or two. The brother is the one who actually goes to confront the shaved head voodoo man about hexing his sister and brings a gun which is quickly and laughably taken from him. Stoner cousin and shaved head man then battle it out for control of the gun which is tossed aside and the epic fight (lol) ends with stoner stabbing shaved head in the neck with a pair of scissors, thus killing the guy and ending the curse he had placed on fried hair lady. Rejoice, for it is now over. You may be asking yourself, “If it was so bad then why did she sit through the whole movie?” It’s because I thought I had downloaded the Sinister movie suggested to me by my twitter friends and they have never let me down when it comes to recommendations. I have so much faith in them that I sat through the worst movie im existence telling myself “It has to get good eventually, they would never suggest such a bad movie to me” not knowing that I was watching the wrong movie with the same name. So now I will try to get the newer version of Sinister and watch it since the people on Twitter thought it was worth seeing and hope that I don’t end up with the third version of the movie shot with a cell phone camera in the parking lot of a McDonald’s. I can only hope. And now I bring you, the trailor for one of the worst films I have ever seen which is saying a lot considering I sat through Dollman Vs The Demonic Toys:
On a more personal note, I’d like to take a moment to wish all of you a happy early Thanksgiving 🙂 My mom works tomorrow so my family is having dinner tonight. My dad asked me to bring a veggie dish so I am going to go home and make ratatouille before I head over there for dinner. I’ve only made it once before but it came out really good so I’m looking forward to trying the recipe out again 🙂
I’d also like to share a funny little moment I had the other day. I was waiting for the elevator at The Mandalay Bay and as I was going to get on, there were about 4 guys stepping out and as they passed me the alpha muppet made a comment to me saying “Hey girl..oh hey you remember me? I remember you.” Of course we had never met but you boys do like to get creative with your attempted wooing. Typically when guys say dumb shit to me I ignore it and walk away without making eye contact but I was feeling saucy that night so I stopped, pivot around on my heels and said as I pointed to him “Holy shit I DO remember you. How the heck are ya? How are the kids doing? God, it’s been so long!” You should have seen the look on his face. His underlings turned to him for his reaction but he just stared at me for a moment in disbelief then said as he nodded his head “Ok….Ok, that was a good one.” I turned away then got onto the elevator to find an older couple looking at me. I smiled at them and said with a shrug “Kids these days, I tells ya.”
Have a SAFE and happy holiday everyone and as always, be excellent to each other ❤
Haters Gonna Hate: A Look Into Human Douche-baggery October 31, 2012
Ever since we were children, we’ve been exposed to human cruelty. From the day we first venture outdoors and into society, until the day we die (and sometimes ever longer than that) we are subjected to a full spectrum of human behavior. While there are many good and positive things about human beings, this blog post will focus more on the horrible and very confusing acts of rudeness, anger, and down-right doucheyness that some of us seem to take pleasure in. Do you remember the first time someone hurt your feelings? The first moment when you felt so insulted that you could only stare and utter “..how mean!” I don’t remember, which I assume has something to do with the amount of reefer I smoke but that is beside the point. I do however remember certain moments in my life where I couldn’t believe the level of cruelty that I was witnessing and I’d like to talk about these things on a psychological level. I’m curious about the “why”. Why we feel as though it’s alright to say horrible things about our acquaintances behind their backs or why internet trolls get joy from leaving rude and pointless comments on people’s Youtube videos. Better yet, why people continue to do these things knowing full well it’s uncalled for. To answer some of these questions I decided to look inward. The times in my life when I have said cruel things about people were mostly all said out of some form of envy. Case in point: I cannot fucking stand Kim Kardashian. Do I think she is a bad person? No, of course not. I have never met her so how could I say if she is either the sweetest woman alive or the vainest hose beast in creation. What I do know is one day I asked myself why I felt so much negativity towards her and realized it is because I envied her. Not her per say, but her lifestyle and wealth. With her money, she never has to work a day in her life. She can spend her time learning new languages or playing different instruments, traveling all over the world visiting different places. That is what I envy about her, it’s her freedom to simply live her life without ever having to think “Crap, can I afford all my bills this month?” And that envy caused me to say and think cruel things about her. You can ask my roommate Jessica, the simple mention of her name used to cause me to utter words like “heifer” and “assbag”. Sure, the names may make you laugh but honestly that is fucked up and so unnecessary. Will calling her names make me richer? No. Will judging her life and her decisions make me happier in my own life? No. All it does is make you feel better for one second because judging others somehow makes us feel superior. Is it something triggered in our brain? A kind of defense mechanism to avoid feeling like we are not good enough? To break down that which you think is “better” than you in an attempt to build yourself up.
Pride is another reason we go into attack mode but this mostly only happens in cases of the opposite sex. Rejection in any form is not easy to deal with and lots of people react to this by going on the offensive. A girl shoots you down when you try to ask her on a date so you spread a rumor that she has an STD or unusually shaped nipples because it’s that 5th grade sense of “HA! That’ll show you” that awakens in our brains to make us act out in an attempt to feel better about the rejection. Perfect example; I had a crush on this guy in High School who wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. The fact that he didn’t like me made me sad but since I was an emotionally crippled teenager who didn’t know how to process her feelings properly that sadness just became anger and whenever he would walk by me I would give him the most evil ‘burst into flames’ glare I could muster. Inside I wanted to drag him into a classroom and rock him like a hurricane, but again, emotionally crippled so I projected only anger to deal with the rejection. Maybe we just haven’t evolved yet to the point where we no longer need to hurt others to make ourselves happy because some people just never grow out of it. I’m almost there. I can’t lie and say I don’t have the urge to be mean to people sometimes or say something demeaning about them to cheer myself up and sometimes I slip up, but I have gotten to the point now where I can stop myself from going too far with it and whenever I say something harsh I feel bad immediately afterwards and think “Why would you say that? What is the point?” so I am getting better at this. Growth is a process. Now I am just curious to know where it all comes from. Why we behave this way to begin with is what I want to understand. I wonder if this is hardwired into our DNA just like our herd mentality. For all we know the cavemen were talking smack about each other on a regular basis and painting wall art of their rivals in unflattering caricature form. I think I need to just go buy as many psychology books as possible and maybe one day I will be able to grasp where this need to be mean comes from.
If only more people adopted to mantra “Live and let live” the world would be a better place. Imagine a world where people like the Brown’s from Sister Wives could live in peace with nobody judging them and their life choices. Imagine if they encountered nothing but acceptance instead of ridicule. Maybe I listen to too much John Lennon, or my hippie upbringing has just jaded me. I guess if there is anything I want you to take away from reading this it would be to know that next time someone judges you in a negative way or insults you, it’s not YOU that has a problem, it is the person insulting you who does. There is nothing wrong with you unless you are running around talking about doing crazy things like stabbing puppies or something in which case you do have a problem and the people judging you are doing so because you are batshit crazy.
Weekend Adventures October 1, 2012
Every weekend I try to get out of the house at least once and do something exciting. Since I spend the majority of my time stuck in an office I prefer to pick weekend activities that are more outdoorsy like going to the mountains or one of the many random parks in Nevada. This past weekend I took a trip to the Wetlands Park which is one of the most interesting places I have been in awhile. I didn’t even know it existed until last week when I was researching new locations in Las Vegas. I saw several pictures and though it would be perfect for one of my little weekend trips so I grabbed my boyfriend, rolled a joint, and headed off to the other side of the town. Once we got there I knew right away this place was amazing. It’s several miles of trails that wind through a natural wetland area. 20-30 years ago this place was little more than a marsh but they have converted it into an awesome park with hiking trails, rivers, streams, and several ponds. This park is also a habitat for Nevada’s wildlife from like turtles, coyotes, quail, chipmunks, roadrunners, and bunnies 😀
We came across several places that I looked at and though to myself: “This would be a fun place to take my clothes off” so I did. I like to have pics set aside for when people buy me gifts of my amazon list so that I have something to send them as a thank you. These are some of the more PG-PG13 photos:
Then we stopped to smoke a little joint to further enjoy the nature experience.
Then we came to this area on the trail where one of the ponds had overflowed and was pouring over the sidewalk. My boyfriend and I looked at eachother and knew this place was PERFECT for skanky pictures so here are some of my favorites:
Annnnnnd here are a few “behind the scenes” photos I guess you could call them. Just random shots that I thought were kinda cute:
And here we have the most hilarious and amazing photo of my boyfriend I have ever taken. I like to have him sit where I plan on taking photos so I can see if I like the lighting etc and this time I told him “Pose like I would” and he did this:
We arrived at the park at around 2:30 and didn’t get back to the car until 6 so we were walking for about 3 hours. Thank god I had comfy shoes on or I would have been complaining the entire time 😛 So if you are ever in town and want to visit a place that isn’t raped with neon and the smell of hookers then head over to the Nevada Wetlands Park and be ready to walk for at least an hour.
About a week or so ago I had attempted to get my hair dyed purple. I went to the same girl that always does my hair and expected it to be perfect since she did such a good job when I got blue put in my hair. Since I last went to her she changed all her products to Paul Mitchell and apparently he doesn’t carry the shade of purple I wanted so this is the color I got, which is more red than anything else. The first day I got it done the top of it looked purple so I was happy but as I showered more times it got more red. I was mad but the color it is now is kinda cute so it’s not a big deal. Next time I will just go to a different stylist to get the purple done in a few months.
Road Warrior August 13, 2012
Hellooooo blog readers! It has been awhile since I posted anything. I usually try to keep it to about one post per month so that I don’t go overboard and start running out of things to talk about but last month I didn’t do any posts. This is mostly because the month of July sucked. It sucked long, and it sucked hard. So instead of posting any negative or overly depressing blogs I just chose to not do anything because well…this is my blog and I do what I want. If I so chose I could just post a recipe to bunt cake or ramble on for an hour about all the dirty and possibly illegal things I would do to Michael Fassbender if I ever met him in a dark alley so there!! But I digress. This past weekend I went to check out some new and interesting places to take my clothes off. Since I have started doing the whole “internet tramp” thing I always have the same thought when driving past any interesting looking places and that thought is “Ooh that would be a fun place to strip down and take pictures!” It used to be “I wonder when the next time we will stop for food is..” My how ten years and a pair of tits can change a girl’s thought process. Nevada is somewhat known for our multitude of ghost towns so what better place to take some fun pics. I personally think the reason that there are so many more ghost towns in this state than any other would be that people moved out here in their covered wagons and thought that this would be a great change from all the trees and water you find in the north only to find that it is in fact hotter than the devil’s nutsack out here and is almost completely devoid of any plant or animal life. Unless you count scorpions which I don’t since they are little more than tiny demons sent here to sting us and look menacing. During the week I looked up some of the more popular ghostie towns (yes I just said ghostie, don’t judge me for being cutesy) and narrowed it down to either Nelson Nevada or Bodie. Sadly I came to find that Bodie is about 6 hours away and I was not down for a 6 hour car ride just to take some smutty photographs so that made the final decision pretty easy. Now if you google image search “Nelson Ghost Town Nevada” what comes up are some photos displaying all the amazing little items on display in this “abandoned” town of old. At first glance one would assume this place is all but abandoned by all modern day people yes? Well one would be wrong. We drove all the way (okay so it was only an hour drive, not that bad but still wah) out there only to find that this place has become some tourist attraction filled with Nissans and muppetry. When you first pull up there is a tiny general store to park in front of next to which is a super welcoming (sarcasm) sign that states “This is NOT Disneyland. Please Check In At Desk”. This implies that one cannot simply roam about the town of Nelson and that one must first sign their name into some little book. I don’t know if you have ever been to Disneyland but you can’t just stroll in and start riding rides so I don’t quite get the connection they were trying to make there. To this I query: Has this person ever been to Disneyland? Granted I have not been to the Magic Kingdom in about 9 years but I am fairly certain the rules of the park have not changed much. Maybe they have and I’m just out of the loop. Needless to say the sign put a bad first impression in my mind. For the sake of avoiding being yelled at by any of the Hills Have Eyes residents of this dusty little town I chose to humor them and go into the store to check in. I guess “store” would be an inappropriate term as this place turned out to be more like a living room of sorts. I walk in and look to my right to find three very….round human beings all occupying a long couch next to the wall. They pause from their intense and assumingly thought-provoking conversation about donuts long enough to shoot my boyfriend and I a confused and fairly judgmental look that said “what the hell do you want?” Perhaps they found my booty shorts and pound of makeup off-putting. I scan the room to see that to the far left is a small room with information about the town of Nelson and directly in front of me is a refrigerator that one would find in any standard kitchen, with the cliché family photos and countless postcards tacked onto it like some badges of honor that say “this is no general store, but somebodies home”. I turn to my boyfriend and say “Well, we checked in, let’s get out of here before they make lampshades out of our flesh.” I assume all mountain folk are crazy. I blame movies for this. We walked back out into the town, strolled around for a moment, and came to find there was not a single place that would be suitable for the kind of photos I had in mind due to all the fellow tourists walking around taking pictures of the ambience with their cheap little disposable cameras. The last thing they want in the background of their family photos is my pasty ass taking my pants off and making pouty faces. Honestly I think this would have greatly improved their boring photos of the decaying town but that’s just me I guess. The town was only a short drive from Lake Mojave so I decided to cut my loses and head over there to see if there was a better and more private place to do the pictures. We hopped into the Kia, bid farewell to the Clampett family, and drove on to the lake. Once we arrived I was greeted with immediate disappointment. Families. Multiple families. All running around in the only areas that would be good for pictures. So many middle aged men with beer guts and no shirts. So many loud and rambunctious children. An abundance of tiny humans and overweight men. We walked down to the water just for the sake of sticking our feet in to cool off a bit and not only was the water filled with muppets but it was hot and also stinky. A Deadly combo. At this point my spirit had been broken and I felt the bitterness of defeat settle in. I stood in the water near the shore, as my feet became increasingly wrinkly, and thought it over. Eventually I chose my next course of action then turned back to my lover to say eloquently: “Fuck this, let’s go get a Slurpee.” We plodded back to car as the evil sun beat down on me adding sweat to my already defeated state. On the way home I noticed there were a few roads that seems to stretch on forever and I saw these as both artistically beautiful and also as potential nudie pic settings. At this point I suggested to my boyfriend that we take the standard yet well loved “This is me in a dress in the middle of nowhere for no apparent reason looking aloof” photos and he agreed this would work so we gave it a go. We pulled over in about the middle of one of said endless roads and I got on my little dress. This is what I look like getting ready in the car:
Once the coast was clear and no cars were in sight we began the most laughter filled photo session ever. I had to stop and laugh every 2-3 minutes because I felt so silly in a dress and heels in the middle of the desert. None of it made any sense but shockingly we did get few pretty decent photos which I will now spam you with. The first one is my favorite one because it is a picture of me almost falling down. Note the “oh crap please don’t bust your ass on the asphalt” look on my face:
And now, I bring you boobies:
Hooray for boobies!!! And cake. Hooray for cake. I have never really posted my rack before but dams it I like my bewbs so why hide them away like some children I am ashamed of. On a side note I am thinking of dying my hair again. It has been one color for months now and as most of you know I have hair a.d.d and get easily bored with the color. I had initially wanted to go back to red but it seems as though everyone is doing the redhead thing lately so I may just go back to blue and black since I lurved it so much. Something like this maybe:
And that is all I have to say about that. It’s Sunday right now which means tomorrow is Monday and back to work. Meh. For the rest of the night I will have my face glued to the television playing Skyrim. Imagine someone who takes everything too literally reading that and imagining my face covered in Elmers Glue and stuck to the glass screen. Why does my mind go to things like that? Who knows. Did someone say steak? I got all excited. And now that you are sufficiently confused I leave you with these parting words: Life is short and so is Danny DeVito. Take care!!
…..Oh, you’re still here? What’s that you say? You feel jipped by that boobie picture? You’re right, it is kind of “hidden” boobage. It sometimes makes me feel like a hypocrite that I am always preaching self acceptance and being open with your body yet all my photos are just teases so for the sake of practicing what I preach here is a photo I took this morning when I got to work. Happy Robanukah bitches!!