Archive for the ‘Other Random Shit’ Category
period: WAKE UP ASSHOLE, YOU GOT CRAMPS.
period: How bout an entire chocolate cake for breakfast?
period: How’s that back pain? Feeling better? Let’s fix that.
period: Corneas glance by a Glamour magazine on the table. Instantly horny.
period: Find a cookie as big as a house and eat it.
period: See a male specimen of any kind. Instantly horny.
period: Where’s your Tic Tac box filled with ibuprofen?
period: Got things to do? Don’t care. Sleep.
period: See a female specimen of any kind. Instantly horny.
period: For dinner you’re eating an entire bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
period: Breeze blows by. Instantly horny.
period: You didn’t like those brand new underwear right?
period: Yell at a puppy.
period: Close eyes and wait for the repeat of today, tomorrow.
1 HOW DID YOU HEAR ABOUT CASTING?
Found you guys on Facebook, of course. Almost 3 million fans is quite impressive!
2 WHO IS YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?
I’m employed by a company called The Paradies Shops. Which are pretty much gift and bookstores located in airports around the United States. My location is GEG (Spokane, WA).
3 WHAT IS THE NEXT MILESTONE IN YOUR LIFE IF YOU DO NOT MAKE THE SHOW?
I was thinking maybe becoming president of a huge company. Even though I’m 20 with absolutely no management experience. Maybe Microsoft’ll take me in, maybe Levi’s yu know. But naw, I don’t really like people that much. So perhaps I’ll go to college (haven’t been yet) and become some crazy-rich animal specialist instead. Yea, that sounds pretty milestone-ish.
4 WHAT SPORTS ORGANIZATIONS HAVE YOU BEEN A MEMBER OF?
I’m actually a pretty good athlete. I was voted by my coaches and fellow teammates as tri-athlete of the year for my high school. The requirements being I had to be involved in a sport all three tri-mesters, all four years I attended. Volleyball, basketball, track. That was me. By the time junior year came around, I was varsity in all three. High point in my life so far.
5 MARRIED, DIVORCED, SINGLE, BOYFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND. AND IF IN A RELATIONSHIP HOW LONG?
I do have an amazing boyfriend. His name is Mike and he is 54 years old. I am 20. Our relationship is a very unique one, obviously. April 19th, 2011 was our 1 year anniversary. I love him more than I love me.
6 WHAT WOULD YOUR FRIENDS SAY ARE YOUR BEST QUALITIES?
I’m one of the most positive people you’ll meet. I find humor in everything I do. I tend to get along with different personalities fairly easily because of this. I’m often told that I have nice hair and a pretty smile.
7 WHAT WOULD YOUR FRIENDS SAY ARE YOUR WORST QUALITIES?
I have a hard time taking serious stuff seriously. I’m not very good at giving advice because I’m not very good at taking it. Also, I always forget to call people back. You can’t just leave me one voice mail. You gotta leave like three and a few texts.
8 HOW ARE YOU COMPETITIVE IN YOUR EVERY DAY LIFE?
Small things always count. Speeding to get that front parking spot before anybody else sees it, sinking the crumpled up piece of paper in the wastebasket TWENTY feet away rather than a weak ten, finishing my Panda Express quicker than the rest of the family in order to have a good choice on the fortune cookies. I’m usually the passionate one who fights to get somewhere, but I never get there. Or there’s nowhere to get to. I cherish the struggle though. I’d rather try super hard to reach an unachievable goal than not try at all.
9 HAVE YOU HAD ANY EXPERIENCES THAT HAVE TRAUMATIZED YOU? IF YES, PLEASE EXPLAIN:
When I was younger, I plugged in my desk lamp in the outlet under my bed and got shocked really bad. Sparks flew everywhere and it made this ugly ‘POP’ sound. The mattress almost caught on fire. I just sat there and cried for like five minutes before self control kicked in. Another traumatic experience was when my brother fell down our spiral staircase in his walker. I’ve never looked at those things the same since then.
10 WHAT IS YOUR UNIQUE MOTIVATION FOR WANTING TO COMPETE ON THE SHOW?
I wanna put my body on the line for money. That’s basically my sole inspiration. If somebody’s willing to pay me 50 g’s to be on a TV show where you run through obstacles and don’t have to answer any questions, or be smarter than any 5th graders, then I’m there. Sign me UP.
11 HOW WOULD YOU USE YOUR WIPEOUT WINNINGS?
I’d actually invest in some college. I’ve always wanted to go somewhere with my creative side, but never really had the chance or tools to do so. I figure school might get me closer to this goal.
12 WHAT IS THE MOST DARING AND DANGEROUS THING YOU HAVE EVER DONE?
On a drunk night a few years back, my two best friends and thought it would be sweet to drive home without stopping for any red lights or stop signs. It was three in the morning on a weekday so the danger level wasn’t as high as it could’ve been, but we were pretty wide-eyed when we got to our destination.
13 IF YOU WERE GOING TO PEOPLE MAGAZINE, WHAT INSIDE INFO ABOUT YOU WOULD BE PUT UP NEXT TO YOUR PICTURE?
I would make sure to have them mention that I can make five-course meals using only a toaster and a butter knife. Also, that my shoe size is a women’s 12.
14 DESCRIBE YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT:
I’ve had a lot, so it’s hard to pick out a certain one, but I do remember losing my tampon going down the slide at Splashdown, the local water park. It was within the first month of ‘becoming a woman’ for me, and EVERYBODY and their mom saw me floating down the Big Dipper grabbing desperately for the stray sanitary napkin in front of me. It was so bad.
15 WHAT IS THE WEIRDEST THING ABOUT YOU?
The fact that I can walk on my toes with them curled. Or maybe that I weighed 11.2 pounds at birth. Or maybe that I’ve never seen the movie Grease or JAWS or Indiana Jones.
16 WHAT OTHER REALITY TV SHOWS HAVE YOU APPLIED FOR? LIST THE SHOWS AND MONTH/YEAR:
None. This is the first show I’ve always REALLY wanted to be on.
17 WHAT IS YOUR HEIGHT?
I am 6 foot even.
18 WHAT IS YOUR WEIGHT?
Usually it’s pretty consistent between the 150-160 range.
I’m about as comfortable with myself as I will ever be. I like the way I look, the way I talk, the way I think, the way I live my life. I’m comfortable in my own skin. However, I can always be better. I can ALWAYS be better. Although, I never wanna pull off perfection. I wanna be the passionate one who fights to get somewhere, but I never wanna get there. I cherish the struggle. I want the impossible dream so that I never become like a majority of society and settle for average. I’d rather try super hard to reach an unachievable goal. Enjoying life in the meanwhile as it happens in the present. The great stuff is right now, not twenty years down the line.
I feel compelled to follow my conscience and my heart wherever it leads me, even if that means pain. I’m not scared of pain. These days I embrace the pain. Pain exists so that when pleasure comes, it seems that much more intense. Certain things must exist in this world in order for other things to coexist. I don’t need the unexplainable explained to me to feel good about life. I just feel good about life not knowing everything there is to know. If we never went without, we’d never appreciate what we have. I get nostalgic for the good ol’ days, but look forward for the ones to come. I don’t live in the past; I just visit on occasion. I like not knowing. I like not having everything explained to me. I like having to learn more. I like questioning things. I like pondering life. I’m prolly a bit excessive sometimes, but that’s just me. That’s just who I am.
I love unconditionally. I forgive people like you wouldn’t believe (some of them I probably shouldn’t forgive) and never forget. But I can move past. I don’t judge based on who you were, I judge based on who you are. I never lose interest in people. Mi casa es su casa; what’s mine is yours. I’m a giver like that. If you don’t feel love in yer life, it’s cuz you don’t let it in. I figure sharing is what makes a difference. Never sharing yerself, yer life, yer shit? Well, that just closes you off in a closet somewhere, huddled in the dark cold all by yerself. My life is way too precious not to share it with others, not to truly love and laugh and enjoy all it has to offer. I can’t NOT tell you how it really is, I can’t censor what I’m really feeling.
I believe everything I do every single day is my own fault. Everything that happens to me is cuz I did something that caused it to happen. If someone feels too much drama in their life, it’s cuz they like that drama or they’re not ready to let it go on some level. Life is all about choices. I don’t understand how anyone can hate anyone else. Hate is an emotional response. It’s not based in reason and logic. If someone hurts me, of course I wanna hurt them back. Duh. But I do that by moving on and becoming better than they could ever hope to be. Don’t waste yer time and energy on people and their problems. I try my best, but I’m sure as hell not perfect. I just learn from my mistakes really well.
I love emotion, feeling, words, music, colors, freedom, sex, beauty. Anything that tantalizes and makes me take a second look. I want the body, the mind, and all the in-betweens. I’m a very sexual human being. I imagine everybody naked all the time. Sometimes I wish I could shut off the x-ray vision (it’s not always a pretty sight). My favorite thing about sex is that part right before. The nervous part. The not knowing part. It’s almost more naked than actually BEING naked. It’s the mystery behind the clothes that radiates sexuality for me. There’s just so many combinations, so many sensations. The shallow part of him pulling me in, the deeper part of him pushing me away, the way I want so badly to feel him around me, all around me, every bit of him, to be lost inside of him. It’s acquisition without the burden of possessions. That’s the magic of sex. No matter how lost you get in the moment, storage is never an issue.
However, I will never, EVER give up on love. Love exists and I know it’s out there somewhere. Even if it hurts more than anything in the world. It’s such a subjective thing, such a submissive part of life. But when it’s there, you just know. I also know that love can exist outside of sex and vice-versa. Almost all the time, you tell yerself yer loving somebody when yer just using them to fill some need. This only looks like love. Love takes, but it has to give as well. I know the difference and have gotten considerably better at separating the two.
I wake up sometimes in the middle of the night and think about him. He’s everything and everyone to me at times like these. He may not even exist, may be a figment of my imagination, but I think of him nonetheless. I can feel the interest in his eyes. What I want is to be needed, what I need is to be indispensable to someone, someone who’ll eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention, someone addicted to me, not someone who can live without me. He knows this. He knows more about me than I know about me and he doesn’t even know me.
I drink sometimes. I’ll smoke the occasional cigar/’special’ cigar. I don’t mind being sober or chemically imbalanced. I like to party just as much as the next girl, but’ll strip down and run around naked for no reason at all if the mood strikes. I don’t think I’m a nut. I just stopped caring what people think about me. I love to laugh and have a great sense of humor. I’m fun and compassionate and can enjoy myself anywhere. I don’t hafta leave the house to have fun. I don’t hafta stay at home to have fun. I’m spontaneous, confident, outgoing, and full of life. I’m certainly not stupid, but on the same note, I’m not afraid to be a fool. I don’t hide behind a mask of insecurity. I always intellectualize, but that never stops me from jumping out of a plane or doing something that could potentially kill me.
I love pleasure. I love pain. I’m selfish yet modest, shy yet extroverted. I have intense mental concentration. I zone out and go places inside my head where no one can find me. I dance to music sometimes and nobody understands why I’m dancing. I love to express myself with movement and love music of all varieties. I’m not afraid to cry or share my feelings in a way that leaves me vulnerable. If you can’t tell already, I love to write and learn and imagine. I wanna influence minds and spark thoughts. I take away information instead of just images from a screen; the occasional memorization of the spoken word replaced with real genuine thought process. I can walk around a book store for hours and never get bored. I could prolly do that for days even.
To me, words are like life. Words mean everything. They express the inexpressible, they help me understand myself and the world around me. They express what I’m feeling in ways much like an artist with paint would express himself or herself or itself or whatever. I write to move people, to move myself, to see where I’ve been, where I’m going, to observe and learn, to experience the joy and pain again and again, to experience how relentless life can be, how bittersweet and full of fury it really is. I need for people to understand, to WANT to understand, to WANT to know me, whether or not they’ll like what they get.
I dream cuz I’m a dreamer. I think of how much I rely on my sense of touch, how much a feeling stimulates me and the feelings of things around me. The way the skin feels, running fingers through hair, a soft pair of lips, the curve of an ear, a neck, a back, etc. I find the experience of losing it all very exhilarating. To lose my senses, to lose my beliefs, to lose my life, to lose myself totally; a great beginning to something else. A freedom from a world of unattainable desires.
I think of streams and rivers, tall trees, mossy nooks, greens and browns, the branches high above me as I stand in the middle of a forest lost and confused. I find myself looking with other people’s eyes all the time. Looking through someone else’s pupils, encountering their lives as they do, living loosely through a series of past experiences seen in the present. Think of a movie, think of love scenes, think of watching yerself fuck, think of seeing yerself through yer own eyes, except not. Sometimes I find stuff I’m not even looking for. Sometimes I find nothing. Sometimes I just do what I do.
I ramble a lot. But I’m simply shaken, not stirred. My life is blasted all over this page cuz I can’t help but be me. I HAVE to share myself. I HAVE to be me. I’ll look at an object and I see a million things you don’t see. You see a couch. I see it being made, who sat on it, who fucked on it, what animal died to make it. I’m not full of myself but I know I got what a lot of people want. I don’t generalize often and don’t judge books by covers, but without covers, why would I even buy the book to begin with? Everything is like that. First glance means EVERYTHING. Most of you see my pictures and they draw you in. Yes, those pictures are one hundred percent me. Or at least the outside visual me. Most people don’t seem to care about what’s on the inside anymore. I hope you do. Shit, I’d like to think if you’ve read this far, you must care at least a LITTLE more than the next guy. Either way, I’ve still got yer attention.
Laying flat on the bed, my muscles feel sore. The thermostat reads 77 degrees and it’s hot even with the window open. Something is distracting me, something leads me to something else, so I sit and write and try to make sense of it. Right now I feel like a shooting star that no one knows is falling. Like a tree in the woods that makes lots of sound and ruckus, but no one is there to witness it even if it never falls. I have to obey certain, yu know, laws of the universe, but I never know where I’m gonna end up. I just fall and fall and go boom and smack! Then I hit the earth.
Sometimes writing is all I have. Everything else is just doing stuff for the sake of doing stuff. I’ll get to points where I do things for no reason. Losing logic and reason based on adrenaline and hormones. Some days I wake up with desires unquenched. There are so many things I want, but only so much I can do in a day. Urges seem to come up inside of me out of nowhere. I’m a bit of a compulsive person. Spontaneous even. I like spontaneity. I like doing what feels good. About matters of sex and life and activity and friends and food and just everything. I have no destination, it’s not a journey. I’m just enjoying the trip.
The getting of life is hard. It makes no difference how things get started. What matters is how they end up. In someplace, somewhere, with someone, calling out to be saved. Lost, but never wavering. Take the search for love and the meaning of life for example. How does something or someone I can’t touch or see or define make me so miserably wonderful? Why do I look at thoughts and get mesmerized for hours? I honestly don’t know. I love the way I think, though. I do. I’ll see the words in my mind before I actually say them out loud. I’ll play with each letter before it even touches my lips to be used and abused. I contemplate things before they happen, before I make a move. Weigh my actions on imaginary scales that only exist in so much that I MAKE them exist. I don’t deny myself, I just ignore myself sometimes. I redirect my feelings towards other things.
The power of night turns me on, more so than the day. When the sun no longer shines and the moon rules my mind, my feelings begin to blur and dissolve leaving me stranded on an island of lost love and reinvigorated desire. The tenderness I feel for him is overwhelming, the times I think he’s out there feeling the same way. I stress the word think. I don’t know as much as I may believe cuz I really just don’t know. If that makes any sense at all. I can hope and believe and have faith all day long, but placing trust in something or someone I don’t entirely understand, have never really met, always feels like a risk. And maybe that’s part of the high of being with them or not. The not knowing, the gamble, the fact that I’ll never gain anything until I lose everything.
I would lose it all for some people, but I don’t think they’d lose much of anything for me. I would jump off a cliff for those select few. Whereas they might buy me a coffee with some booze in it only to be angry about the price and end up keeping the receipt to hold over my head years from now. It’s a crazy sort of feeling that I just don’t know how to quit. Some people say and believe they’re positive people. And sometimes they are. But a lot of the time they’re nothing but doom and gloom disguised under fake smiles and tainted kindness.
Days stretching into weeks. All the night clubs and bars I passed tonight downtown, full to capacity on a Thursday night. People searching for sex, searching to become numb, searching for a way not to feel, not to experience. Searching and not even knowing they’re searching. What about tomorrow? The day after? Is it all about just making money so you can spend the money you made? Yup, I’m just rambling now. Fuck. Nothing good could ever come of this.
(My best friend Bree and her step-mom remodeled their downstairs bathroom about a week before New Year’s. It looks really nice and smells even nicer. So I was forced to write her an appreciation letter.)
Written on December 31st, 2009 during the trip down to Tri-Cities…
Earlier today, some of my good friends and I were watching TV and chowing down on a bag of yer guyses amazing Mauna Loa Kisses (the ones with the macadamia nuts). I seriously love these things. Like, you have no idea. If Jesus had to suddenly morph into chocolate form, he’d be one of these, hands down. You know how when you see something sour and yer brain automatically starts making extra saliva to compensate for that sour, even before putting it in yer mouth? That’s what mine does, except for the “sour” part is replaced by an overwhelming “omg, there’s that Jesus chocolate again!” part.
Anyways, we got about halfway down the bag and I noticed I was coming across more and more ‘nutless kisses’. Once I realized what was happening, I began to slowly die a little on the inside. Those nuts are like the ying to my yang, man. The headphones to the Ipod, water to the vitamins. Take them out of the mix and it’s like trying to draw sky without the blue crayon.
I ended up finding eleven out of the thirty kisses that we ate to be minus their nuts. I secretly fought back tears of disappointment looking at the empty blue wrappers littering the table. “Are you crying?” My friend asked me this in a wave of confusion as I stood up quickly. I managed to answer her in brief stutters and half sentences followed by a muffled, “I’ll be right back.” I immediately made a mad dash for the bathroom and haven’t come out since. I’m currently huddled in the bathtub, writing this as you read it, shaken and still in shock from my current candy condition. I ask you this now, in regards to future Mauna Loa lovers and dedicated Hershey’s fans like myself. Please don’t skimp out on the macadamians this year. They complete me.
Happy Holidays To You And Yers,
Hop on the Sprague bus (#90) on a wet and rainy day in the middle of busy hour….the smell’s are crazydisgusting, and I’ll guarantee yu’ll never eat lunch right before boarding again….here’s my story for the day….enjoy….
You must be joking if you think I’m scootin’ my ass over for yers. Seriously??? The sight of you is bad enough, but come on dude, you R-E-E-K. And believe me, I’m tryin’ to spare feelings here. Jesus. If I were to throw some week-old mayonaisse in the microwave with no regards to a bowl or timer, I’d still have a better smelling creation than the one yer giving off right now.
And how dare you shoot me that “god-yer-a-bitch” look. Pshh, who knows, I may just agree with you. But that’s neither here nor there. Cuz yu see, I’m what you’d call a classy bitch. A classy bitch who has a nifty little power called ‘choice’. The power to choose, my friend. So sorry to rain on yer funky little stink parade, but sitting next to a human dumpster on a 45 minute bus ride isn’t really my idea of a ‘healthy choice’.
Good luck finding a seat tho; yu’ll definetly need it. Who knows, you may even get lucky 4 rows down with that nasty red-head. The one who constantly smells like dirty cat box and faded dryer sheets. Just please, whatever you do, use protection. Imagining any offspring sends cold pricks of shivers down my spine. God forbid.
Dear Unborn Child Of Mine,
The economy sucks. But I’m pretty sure when yer 18, it’ll fade into happy money again. Yer dad’s currently the best in the biz according to all the locals. Yu’ll like it here. We got plenty of other cities to move to though, just in case you don’t. Food is abundant, which is excellent for you, cuz from all the kicks I’m feelin’ right now, yer gonna be one hungry baby boy. Hey, at least yer gonna be tall. And I’ll teach you how to play the piano like a madman. I gotta learn first of course, but hey, we’ll get there. Yer gonna be a winter kid. I can feel it. Snowboarding, tubing, and skiing have yer name written all over em’. Stars collided to make you my dear. And they were beautiful.
You have white shoes hugging yer toes with a little gray scuff on the left side of the right one. Yer currently ignoring me, but I think it’s because yer concentrating on the Dr. Dre lyrics you just typed in on Google. “Dammit!” You say this through clenched teeth in muffled frustration as you open a screen not even remotely close to what you searched for. I have a feeling yer heart’s drowning in worry right now. Fuck feeling, I know this for a fact.
Hey laughing is a good alternative, right? Takes away the stresses of life and replaces em’ with tiny spiderwebs of hope. Ahhh, sister. I love you, and you better never ever forget that shit. Crackhead.