Thursday, May 28, 2009

May 28th, 2009

Mornings are shit. Every day for the past week I wake up and have to clench my teeth for the following five hours to make sure I don't throw up all over my laptop while I'm working. Sixty percent of pregnant girls get morning sickness, why can't I be in the forty percent cool crowd that doesn't?

Farrah Fawcett has anal cancer. I don't know why but that freaks me out, I hate reading about diseases because one, I think I am going to get it and I start freaking out knowing that my diet and lifestyle have not been so great the past couple of years and that's the best prevention. I've lived off of cereal the past couple of days, after the Fawcett story I cooked oatmeal. I think that's better, right? It doesn't taste as good as fruity pebbles.

Last night I went to Brewvies, a sort of bar/theatre in salt lake, to watch Edward Scissorhands. The movie is sad because it captures peoples inability to sympathize with each other, and shows the unfortunate opportunistic qualities in most of us. It's also sad because they have Johnny Depp's sexy ass covered up in all that makeup. Throughout the movie I kept wanting to ask Tim if he thought the "scissorhand" Johnny Depp was attractive, but we weren't sitting next to each other, we're not "that" kind of couple.

This oatmeal is gross. It's making me want to gag.

My appointment for the big A in one day. I'm nervous. I don't like that place, it feels like a chop shop. sigh.

My visa pack came yesterday. I have to apply for my visa, in person, in San Fran. Woo ha! Love me some San Fran!

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

May something er other

I'm Sick of Being Tired.
The Trapp Door closed and the bar staff moved to a new club called, "Club Edge" a name that inspires images of long haired rockers, and air guitar, or a group of Straight Edge boys clad in army shorts and t-shirts with giant "X"'s on the front. Basically, it's the worst name for a dance club in the world.

I went to the first meeting I have been up enough to attend two days ago and was so sick and grumpy thought that I was literally going to laser everyone to death with my death stare. For no reason at all I hated just about everyone, and really for no reason. Being pregnant is the worst thing in the world to happen to me socially. I'm exhausted, nauseous, and everything hurts. It's not the best time for me to have forced interactions via a club staff meeting. I have a hard time not killing my boyfriend, or friends (who I absolutely adore) let along a bunch of people I'm really not very close to. We sat down, we listened, I grew more angry as Bobbi grew more angry and by the end I had had it. The place too closely resembled the ridiculous bar hierchy of our previous venue. I don't have it in me to try anymore without some kind of actual results. That's probably the exhausted me, from the little gremlin, but none-the-less I feel like it's fruitless work. In some kind of lunatic rage that stemmed from almost nowhere I texted our manager/promoter and quit.

He was pissed. I was pissed. I'm not sure that we are friends now as a result of my quiting. I don't even know what I think of that, or myself. I feel kind of insane to be honest.

I don't like working in clubs because I feel as though I am around a lot of stuff I don't want to be around, like drugs, tooons of alcohol, and ex boyfriends. All which are bad for me, and all that i'm happy as can be to get away from, however, I do like bartending. I miss the easy money, the socializing, the being part of the "cool club" even though nobody is really cool at all. Most of the kids are just anti social weirdos, drug addicts, and otherwise depressed. It's like hanging out with the breakfast club kids, before they broke into fame.

My friend Sparkles is home. I missed her. She's one of my absolutely favorite people in the world. I tried to pimp her out for a while so she could make some extra money, but it's awkward pimping out your friend. Plus, I think she felt awkward having her friend pimp her out. But it was fun to say, "I gotta hoe named sparkles, what you need?". I don't think old fashion "hookin'" works anymore, it's all about craigslist now, or that's what I heard from a friend of mine who pimps himself out for money. Another friend asked me, "doesn't it weird you out that he does that?" I said, "not at all, it's his body...who am I to judge. Besides, what he does with himself, and how much he's paid for it, in no way influences how good or bad of a friend he is. He's a good friend, and clearly worth more sexually than the rest of you who give it up for free in booz town".

I have morning sickness, all day today. It should be called, "all day sickness" saying it's only in the morning is misinforming for people who may want to have a baby. It doesn't last in the morning ladies, it's all day. Mix that with how tired I am, and I'm practically useless. This is why people lived in gigantic families back in tribal times, because women need back up when they get pregnant cause otherwise shit's not getting done.

My boyfriend brought me: Fruity Pebbles, Tonka Fruit Snacks, Nectarines, Juice, and Ginger snaps today during his lunch break. He brought it saying, "I got you this stuff because I put a baby in you and it makes you sick. I hope this helps". That's love.

My boobs keep getting bigger, and it's terrible. I like my small chest, I never have to wear bras and I'm pretty comfortable all the time. Big boobs seem like so much upkeep.

Worse case I guess I can just start duct taping them down.













Friday, May 22, 2009

Me doing something. Boyfriend, Rachelle.


of course it is

May 22, 2009

A lot has happened. I found out that I'm pregant (woops) which is [cough, cough] still awkward to say. I'm not keeping it. Being pregant sucks by the way. I just feel sick, my boobs won't stop hurting, and on top of that all of my guts feel like they are moving around to make room for the little gremlin who is in my belly. It's not cool, and there is nothing magical about it.

When I called my boyfriend to say, "hey so guess who's pregnant, that isn't supposed to be able to naturally concieve" he said, "oooh well I guess there isn't anything I can't do". He found it hilarious, I can't really be more thankful for everyones sense of humour. It sucks, but there is a lot to laugh about.

I went to "the clinic" with a couple friends for moral support who spent the time yelling random things at my stomach, and saying to anyone who said "abortion" to "shh" and they would cover my stomach, "not in front of the baaaby". My friends, are from a bad comedy, with the worst sense of humour in the world...thank god.

Speaking of god, I'm not religious but am I going to hell for an abortion? I mean, it's only OOONE, it's not like my fifth one or something. Speaking of fifth one, I worked with a girl at starbucks once who had four. FOUR. How the hell do you get pregnant four times?

Yes, I'm the pregnant girl who is judging. I'm judgemental.

I went to the clinic to have the abortion, but the spanish lady said in between talking on her cell phone, while probing my vagina, "i can't see no babies here...is too soon!" So I'm only 3 weeks or so, meaning they won't take the bun out of the oven until it's been baked a little longer. Isn't that weird?

My room-mate asked me, "isn't it amazing feeling something growing inside of you?" NO. The answer is no. I don't feel something growing inside of me, I just feel sick, and like i'm retaining water. Also, it has a knife and it keeps stabbing me. The baby, though only a tadpole, is really rude.

I have eight more days left and counting.

May 30th, little stabby gremlin go bye bye.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

May 10, 20009

Working at the Trapp Door is a soul draining experience, and why I keep doing it week after week is ridiculous. But, it has comic value at least. The night starts out with my gorgeous fanged co-work asking me if the last time we got wasted we took our clothes off and danced on stage. No, we didn't. "Well, let's get a lot of blow and this time I won't vice grip your hand and drag you all over all night...deal? Oh, and also, you're playing on the softball team tomorrow, or else. Pick you up at 11. " Two minutes later the club owner comes over to ask me if I think it's possible for him to find a hot young guy to "fuck him" tonight. I nodded. He was happy that I had faith in him. . . really the faith is fear based. He's insane, and I don't doubt that if I told him honestly he might kill me...or throw me into something at least.

Two guys sat at my bar telling me stories that I blocked out and I realized that I honestly can't pay attention to anyone who is less attractive than someone I would want to hypothetically fuck. Not really, but hypothetically.

At the end of the night as we're cleaning up a fat woman in a purple shirt slurred to our bartenders, "you gonna let me pay you er what...I have a tab". Her eye make up was green. Green and purple...literally a giant grape. Then she mumbles, "maybe after I pay you, I can take a sexy young boy home to get nasty with". I threw up in my mouth. Not even a drunk boy could ignore the fact that she looked like she had three asses. Clearly, she ate the last boy who went home with her.

Tim came over, who is lying on my floor reading currently, to tell me that he went to a biker bar to watch his mom sing, and that she was wasted and belly dancing. "You had a weird upbringing" I told him. He nodded, and smiled. His life is interesting, partly because I don't think he realized how bizzare a lot of things really are. Like being a concubine...which he was temporarily, or, the fact that he literally refuses to speak to strangers. Practically mute. However, he's so attractive it makes it almost creepy that he's so reserved and shy. Doesn't usually go hand in hand.

sigh. tired.

Ty is upset over some boy who looks like a Q tip. I said, "don't be sad over him, he bleaches his hair white which is worse than having HIV". Ty replied, "yeah actually he told me he tested positive today". Bad joke. He said he still laughed.

Friday, May 8, 2009

May 8th 2009

Since yesterday I've went from being a somewhat optimistic person to being self loathing. Bi-polar? nuh, bad news. My life is set up in a game of dominos, one piece falls and everything comes crashing down at once in a mess of irrepairable damage.

What now? Porn? Working nights at 7/11?

I keep trying to force myself out of this shitty mentality, prove it's temporary, push myself to fight instead of give up. I've already given up.

What can I do when there is absolutely nothing to do? I've failed at so much, and with so little ability I don't have anything. I'm a wasted life. It's pathetic.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Me. At work. I bartend one night per week. You can really tell I love it. Look at the enthusiasm beaming out of my sunshine happy face. I just wrote a huge blog about my day, but it was somehow erased, and now i'm too lazy to re-type. I wrote something about needing coffee to withstand the super sunny day that I have to face if I go outside. I'll write more later. For now...I'm done.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

May 6th. 2009

I am filling out my financial aid papers for a study abroad program I'm doing this fall in Italy. I'm scared. I don't know how I feel about 70 grand in debt, but then again with the diseases in my family I will probably die before I have to pay it off...suckers!

I went running the other night with a girl. We were coming around the corner when I heard, "I wish that I was Jessie's girl!!!" booming from somewhere in the distance. A quickly approaching figure came into focus in front of us. It was a giant man sitting on a huge tricyle. He was coming at us with his frosted tip hair blowing in the wind. A boom box and cooler were strapped to the back, and he "zing zinged" past us with his little bell thingy stuck to the front of the handle bars. I want to be that guy. The guy who just really doesn't give a fuck if night runners think he's a freak....and we definitely did.

Running sucks sober. I decided after last stint i'm getting good at boozy first.

Today I almost felt inclined to DJ myself (use your imagination) but then lost all interest when the next door people started doing it full throttle, and my wall was almost bashed through with her totally fake, "oh...my....god". She's really thinking, "ouch, my cervix" but who am I to tattle?

The Arsenal vs Man U game yesterday was total bullshit, and I hate Rinaldo...yet it's a love-hate relationship. I want to have sex with him, while carving, "i hate you...you fucking cry baby" on his chest. Some of us dream big.

My mom is taking my step dad to court soon. She hired my friend who is a bad ass lawyer, and who is going to beat the shit out of the guy...in court of course. I would feel bad for the guy, I mean, he was my step father for 15 years...if he wasn't the biggest douche bag I have ever met in my life. One month after my brother died he asked for a divorce, then moved his silicone chest ex into my mothers house...while my mom grieves and lives one block away at my grandmothers. Sometimes I fantasize about pouring honey all over him and feeding him to a famished ant hill...then i realize I would go to jail, and I have no social skills and would get stabbed my first day in for saying something like, "psh, so you killed your kids! Biiig deaaal! My step dad was like 300 pounds, now that takes dedication and will power...pussy!". That right there is when I get stabbed, first vaginally with a broom, and then in the gut with a knife that so and so made out of a toothbrush and a paper clip.

I have to work. tuh tuh.

Monday, May 4, 2009

May 4th, 2009

I've just created this blog and now I feel even more pretentious than when I created my wordpress blog (http://dirtyfilthythings.wordpress.com). I don't know why. I'm supposed to be working, but I've taken a break to write dirty messages to my friend Melissa, and to stalk my friend Elle's blog http://elleetpeter.blogspot.com/. She's beautiful and I miss her. Had my brother not died last september, I would have been in europe with her on her adventures. Drinking, speaking in tongues, and doing copius amounts of blow off of elaborately decorated old world table tops. The life of a study abroad student.

I've realized this past week that there is something innate in me that makes me hate the world when things become easy. Maybe it's because unattainable dreams are what hold my person together. Maybe I don't want any of the things that I think I want. I want a hot, sweet boyfriend, I get one and I don't want it anymore. I want the house, my father tells me I have a trust fund for one now, and I don't want the fucking house. I'm a spoiled brat. I know it.

My hand is infected. "Will you still be friends with me if I can't clap?" I asked my friend Gareth. he says he will, but I think he's lying. It's my own fault if I have to have my arm cut off, I shouldn't have punched anyone to begin with. He asked me to, and then he started to deserve it though. His teeth cut my knuckles open. I'm blaming the infection on shoddy dentistry, for the love of god mate, use Listerine next time! My hand looks like it doesn't have knuckles, it's a big oozy mess.

My brother almost died from a cat bite a month before he died from suffocation. He was 23. He died from drinking and taking Valium. It was six months ago. That's it.

I'm reading the history of hell, and listening to a mix that an ex made me. I still like that ex, but I shouldn't because part of me thinks he's a total shit. He does things like avoids me, then, gets wasted and pulls me into the work fridge to tell me that he cares for me and that if my current boyfriend does anything to hurt me, he will kill him. And he repeated "kill him" ten or so times. Funny to have someone who hurts people, who hurt me, tell me that he will kill someone else for hurting me. Clearly, he has the monopoly of making me uncomfortable.

My boyfriend wears dresses. And likes boys.

The other night at the club more gay men than I could count came up to me to apologize for eye fucking my boyfriend. I told them not to worry, they can "fuck fuck" him after we're finished dating..."if he wants to" I added. I'm not possessive, maybe I should be?

I leave for Italy in September. I'm scared that when I come back everything will be different, but it's Salt Lake and nothing here ever fucking changes. I like that about SL.

Back to work.