DEAR BLOG,

Tonight I had planned on writing about my great time at Warped Tour / Henry’s terrible time at Warped Tour. But then I decided to tell my boss that tomorrow will be my last night here at my job, so instead of plastering photos of scene kids (I am so enchanted by them, in fact, that I think I’m going to do a photographical study) all along the Internet, I’ve been sitting at my desk & staring blankly at the computer screen.

The end.

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Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 09:52 Warped Tour, holla. #
• 10:44 Only been in the car for 5 minutes and Henry wants to kill Blake and me. #
• 10:52 Henry said he’d be happier if Kansas or Styx were playing at Warped Tour. I don’t know WHY he doesn’t like Norma Jean. #
• 11:16 I just pointed out a fellow old dude in the Warped traffic. Henry said "he’s probably dropping off his kids. I can’t be that lucky" #
• 13:38 Almost broke my neck trying to see The Bronx and had some guy ask if me, henry and blake have threesomes. #
• 13:53 Henry is frowning. A lot. #
• 14:07 A pungent pot cloud engulfed us and Henry scrambled for his DARE cap. #
• 14:40 Henry bragged the whole way here about how he never sunburns. He’s been whining ever since about his honkin’ red nose. #
• 14:54 Trying to enjoy Human Abstract. Henry and I are having first fight of day. #
• 15:04 About to have my veil pierced. #
• 16:28 Its not fun-havin’ until you catch a bitch with your head. And then another. #
• 17:33 Evergreen Terrace is currently chanting the inscription on Henrys and my future wedding bands: I want you dead. #
• 17:42 Henry hates music. #
• 19:04 I’m not leaving until henry buys booty shorts. #
• 19:45 Say Anything was quite possibly the most boring set of the day. And henry just saw a fellow oldie he recognized from the Chiodos show. #
• 20:43 Every time henry interrupts my convos with blake to ask a question, I tell him "n/m. U wouldn’t understand" and he frowns. #
  

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• 10:22 Henry: you and chooch are gonna have big conflict in the future. Wait until he’s 13. Me: oh by then I’ll be living in France. #
• 10:23 @fondabruises thank you for remembering! :) #
• 10:26 I had 4 cameras with me at Warped Tour. I’m such a loser. #
• 13:20 Continuing tradition by having the worst birthday ever. #
• 18:23 Even Kennywood sucks cock on my birthday #
• 18:28 And I got pizza on my Chiodos shirt! Get fucked by an AIDS syringe, July 30. You cunt. #
• 19:48 Janna bought me an ice cream cone w/ TWO cherries ontop. It made up for my twatty day until My Son the Beggar demanded 1 of the cherries. #
• 20:00 Janna is deaf. DEAF, JANNA IS DEAF. #
• 22:20 Met up w/ my bro & 3 of his friends who said they thought I was only 21. OK FINE MY BDAY WASNT TOO BAD. #

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After 7 years of crunching numbers for Jockstraps R Us, Felix put in his two week notice. It caused quite a ripple, as Felix was the tallest employee. Now everyone would have to be measured to find his successor. But mainly no one really cared.

There were a lot of things Felix would miss, like every Wednesday when Yvette the receptionist would wear polyester hotpants and a terry halter. And pizza Fridays when every one would laugh behind their napkins when Beatrice, unbeknownst to herself, wound up with shreds of anchovies ribboned around her braces.

Felix knew there would be a party — every one got a party thrown in their honor when they left the company; a soiree full of well wishes and moist cake with fluffy buttercream frosting. If the boss’s son hadn’t pilfered too much from petty cash that week, there was a chance a Mylar or two might be kissing the flourescent ceiling lights.

And on Felix’s last day, there was a kiss off party indeed. Beatrice diligently cut the cake into precise cubes, ensuring that Felix got the piece that had his name scrawled in shaky sugared calligraphy. After everyone licked the last of the icing from their fingers, various employees began stepping forward, saying a few words to send Felix off into the world of opportunity.

"Felix always wore deodorant," Samson declared, and everyone nodded their heads in earnest.

"Felix always bought a pack of Skittles after lunch, and he always gave me the red ones," Abraham spoke somberly.

"Everyday, I pissed a little in Felix’s apple juice," Cleaver chuckled.

"And everyday, I was banging his wife," hollared Julio, face red and bloated with hilarity.
_______________________________________________________
Original painting on an 8×8 piece of canvas board, perfect for framing.

[THANK YOU KATE for your purchase of "Leaving" and for supporting the shelter! You made my day!]

10 comments

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 10:51 Being an asshole at flea market. Almost conned henry into buying me a sword.
• 11:14 Was just urged by henry to stop taking pictures of ppl at the flea market.
• 11:28 Everyone at the flea market hates me. Mission accomplished.
• 14:28 She fucked SATAN, for Christ’s sake!
• 16:14 I  once saw a monk completely flip his shit and hurl a thick chain at a stone wall. I think of him everytime I chuck shit out of anger
• 17:48 In preparing Henry for Warped, I played him some Bring Me the Horizon, to which he faux-begged "more, plz, more" in a monotone.
• 20:00 I just cut myself on a rusty garbage can omfg. Henry grabbed my arm, looked at it then announced "no you didn’t!"
• 20:12 Henry just told me for the fifth time today to stop taking pics of ppl. "And then why do u have to run?!"
• 20:19 Fuck writing, art, photography. I’m delving into porn. I think that’s where my imagination can REALLY shine. Henry flinched when I told him.
• 20:23 First up: Pornographical interpretations of all my stories. Instead of a thumb in the porridge, it’ll be Marvin’s dickie.
  

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• 08:22 I made out w/ Ne-Yo in my dream last nite. We worked together&his girlfriend was overbearing &Ebay-obsessed. He wore a great hat, natch.
• 08:30 Chooch is chanting "blood" in a maniacal tone. I hesitantly asked "blood?" he screamed "ok!", expecting me to get him blood. Was chilling.
• 14:25 If Chooch isn’t in a band by the time he’s 13, he’s getting dumped on a river bank.
• 22:05 IT FEELS LIKE XMAS EVE.

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Henry wanted to get his son Blake out of the house on Sunday, so we decided what better way to be all familial for free than to go to the fucking flea market.

I had no coffee in my system; my head was thumping and a sour scowl was perma-etched on my face. Henry was all, “OK, this shit ain’t gon’ fly” so he went to one of the snack bars for a remedy, commanding Blake, Chooch, and myself to stay put where we were. As soon as he turned his back, we did what any other miscreants would and wandered off into the abyss of redneck unwantables.

“Who the fuck would buy this shit?” Blake mumbled as we pushed Chooch’s stroller past a table of romance novels and metal scraps.

“That guy,” I answered, as some loser handed over a fan of bills.

We continued strolling along, taking turns complaining about how gay everything was. Then we talked about Chiodos for awhile, which briefly lighted both of our faces, until it occured to me that we had been led too far astray and Henry was probably walking in circles, crying into a Styrofoam cup of coffee. So we hurried back to where Henry left us, but he wasn’t there. We then made the mistake of leaving the Abandoned Child Depot in order to find Henry, which was fruitless since he was doggy-paddling in the sea of beer tee’d bargain hunters, hoping to find us.

 Fuck you, assholes!

 We made it back to our spot right as Henry called Blake’s cell phone. When he finally made his way back to us, we were all, “What the fuck, we were here the whole time, asshole!” Henry looked dumbfounded.

 

“I walked right past here and didn’t see you. Didn’t you see me?” he asked, eyes squinted with confusion.

“Probably, but everyone here looks like you,” I said. I don’t think he heard me, but Blake did, and as soon as Henry turned his back, we laughed like children.

We walked past one table weighted down with incredibly worthless junk, just as a very manly woman with the roughest smoker’s voice barked, “How much you want for that bottle of Eternity?” It seriously sounded like a knife-fight was happening in her throat. Her interest in a bottle of perfume tickled me so greatly that I was falling into Henry’s back from laughing so hard. She was with some social reject who had a lipstick print tattooed to his neck. God, what an asshole.

Just when I didn’t think anything could top those two, some broad petrified in makeup from 1975 began advertising loudly for the shitty cat nip mats she was shilling. “They make extraordinary gifts!” she called out jovially and I lost my shit all over again.

“Oh, they’re fucking extraodinary alright. I hope I get fifteen of them for my birthday. Motherfucker.” Then I thought about how much hate I had boiling in my belly, and I smiled.

Around the bend, some dumb ass colostomy bag of a broad was selling CDs and at the very top of one of the stacks was The Cure’s “Disintegration”. Henry pointed this out, probably thinking I’d go all Pollyanna and realize that the flea market really was a place for extraodinary gifts, but instead I grew angry. I mean, I was practically roiling.

“You don’t re-sell a Cure CD!” I bitched loudly. “WHO DOES THAT? An asshole, that’s who.” And I know that shitty old lady heard me too. SUCK IT, bitch.

It wasn’t until we fell upon some old dude slinging the mother lode of incense and natural soap that my edges began to soften a bit. I wasn’t too interested at first, until he stood up from the perch he had on his van and started teaching us of the miraculous healing properties of some shitty soap that sounded like “doo-doo” but was really something else that I just didn’t give a shit about. That was when I realized he was awesome. At first, it was because I thought he had a British accent, but then I think he was just slurring really bad from prolonged use of psychedelics. How nice of him to come to Trader Jack’s flea market straight from Woodstock.

“Buy some of this shit,” I hissed at Henry.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because that is one cool asshole.”

And so Henry bought some shit, that scared little bitch. He bought a whole heap of incense and found out later it makes him sneeze.

 “This stuff is made in India. This ova’ here is from New Yorkkkkkkzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzsnore.”Normally, I would try to be a little covert with my mean-spirited picture taking, but by this point I had adopted the “fuck a bitch, suck a dick” attitude and began walking RIGHT UP TO PEOPLE, stopping in the middle of the aisles, and holding my phone all the way out at arm’s length. Henry was not pleased. Especially when, afterward, I would justify my actions by shouting, “What? That person’s an asshole. They deserve this, and worse.”

 Yeah, you count that cash, you cock sucker. Bet it’s going straight into some yeasty g-strings, you sex addict. SUCK A DICK.”

Speaking of sex addiction (a very serious plight not to be taken lightly), there seemed to be a LOT of porn there this time. Large cardboard boxes marked ADULT DVDS XXX  in thick black marker were nestled smack in the middle of baby clothes and Care Bears. I desperately felt the urge to rummage and pilfer, but felt strange doing so with Blake with us. I’d like him to not speculate upon my sex life with his father.

 Apropos placement if you ask me.

 

I saw a produce-hawker go apeshit on a pile of empty banana boxes. I don’t know what got all up inside his puckered sphincter, but he was hurling the boxes out of the back of his truck and plowdriving them into the gravel. His face was red and his fat lips were a’quake with obscenities. I stopped to gawk for awhile, savoring the terror that was arresting my heart. Violence makes me wet.

 

 

 

More flea market assholes, plus Chooch and Blake.

 

There was some girl there who was clinging onto her youth even more desperately than me. Quite possibly the oldest scene kid ever, and ridiculously so. As she pushed a stroller past us, she giggled and very coquettishly said, “I like your piercings!” to Blake. After she walked away, Blake mumbled, “Dumb bitch.” It was high-five worthy.

 

 

The only cool people there. Aside from Blake and me.

 

Sometimes, for no reason, I would growl. Say, for instance, someone in a Kenny Chesney shirt would push past me, in a huge fucking hurry to look at fake designer sunglasses, my arms would get all stiff and I’d just fucking growl. Ew, grr.

 

 

Henry wouldn’t buy me this awesome Jesus Loves Me hat. Now I’ll have to find something else to wear to the church fair. My garter belt and a Cannibal Corpse shirt, I guess.

 

Later that day, Henry was telling me that his mom asked him to take her to the flea market next weekend.

I laughed, it was an angry laugh, and said, “I think I’ll sit that one out.”

“You ain’t kidding,” he said. Supposedly I’m banned for life or something.

23 comments

This is the banner for the Etsy fundraiser I posted about on Saturday. I love how my Lizzie Borden Christmas card is nestled so warmly among such cute and cuddly items. It kind of made my day a little.

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I bet that guy across the street was Marlin Jackson, that motherfucker.

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Henry is old and naps. A lot.

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Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 12:37 You know there’s something wrong with me when those douchey Teletubbies are on my TV and I don’t even bother to turn it.
• 13:37 Henry just taught me that the phrase No pain, no gain does not literally mean "push urself until u rupture muscles and choke on puke"
• 13:53 Toni Basil gets on my nerves, but she made me fist-pump when she said this: Great art makes you feel something; its not just kids stuff.
• 17:06 Words will be the death of me
• 18:47 There’s ice cream cake at work. I asked Tina to cut me a piece since I’m helpless. She sighed in annoyance but I caught her smiling coyly.
• 18:53 As she’s catering to me in mock exasperation, Tina just said I remind her of a little girl she used to babysit. Flirt alert.

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• 12:19 Two $24 concert tickets cost me $73.70. Does my blood taste good, TicketMaster?
• 15:48 Outerspace is disgusting
• 16:26 Maybe you’re the one that’s overrated.
• 01:00 My heart belongs to Nightdreams
• 01:05 I want to direct a porn where Jesus and Satan bang each other.
   

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I’m participating in this Etsy Fundraiser thingie. From July 26 – August 6, 20% of my sales will be directly dontated to Saving Shelter Pets, Inc.

There are several other Etsy shops involved, so if you like animals and your heart hasn’t been too hardened by that prick called Life, take a look around and help us out.

Etsy Fundraiser for Saving Shelter Pets, Inc.

6 comments

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 14:09 Apparently there’s a Heavy Equipment School and it just so happens I want to learn to operate heavy equipment for my army.  #
• 15:17 My heart won’t stop dropping. #
• 16:02 When Henry commented on my weight loss, I said, "It’s from all the cocaine." He laughed, but there was a tinge of uncertainty there. #
• 17:58 Tina is going to a Jamboree this weekend. Oh how I wish she’d invite me. I’d wear my best overalls and tuck a dandelion in my straw hat. #
• 19:35 apparently for someone to touch my life, i must personally know them. be all bff’s and shit. #
• 20:13 Figures, one week left of nightshift and I find a new desk from which to steal candy. CHOCOLATE EGGS. How’s a bitch gon’ steal on dayshift??  #
• 22:54 I swear to shit someone keeps pulling my hair.#
   

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3 comments

This is probably the best – not to mention the worst – idea that I have ever had.

Mel couldn’t take the pain of his broken heart any longer so he gouged a hole into his chest with a melon baller and pulled that bleeding sucker right the hell out. Now he’ll never have to feel that breaking torment next time a favorite ice cream flavor is retired. On the flipside though, he’ll never again feel the swell of hope and love when his girlfriend comes over. But how often does that really happen? She’s a cheating slutbroad.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a heart, too. But I would rather suffer through the lows so that I may have the highs, rather than not feel anything at all. I love you, Craigery.

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Chooch’s Lost Boys figurines arrived yesterday and I feared he was going to start whipping me with chains because I wasn’t opening the box fast enough. I could almost hear the harcore collectors worldwide, wailing in unison as I cut open each figurine’s package. Then we had to have a long talk about how these aren’t really toys, they’re very special collector’s items, so please don’t rub them in cat poop or let your father caress his asshole with them. Both David and Michael came with their own little backdrops and various props, including interchangeable heads and feet in case we decide that the vamped out look is growing older than celebrities wearing Uggs in summer.

Chooch and I shared some tender moments yesterday, renacting scenes. Chooch used Michael to push down David and yelled, "Just you! Just you!" and then I picked up David and said, "Maggots, Michael" and together we embroiled them in mid-air vampire battles. I just wish there was a Star figurine, so I could reenact the sex scene with Michael, only with way more smut, some clown paint, and maybe even that gigantor zucchini Kim gave me.

 

 

Then while Chooch was napping, another package arrived. This one was full of crocheted eyeballs and a cute little zombie made by my awesome friend Sarah, purveyor of the coolest shit you’ve ever seen yarn turned into, such as bacon and eggs. I tucked the largest of the eyeballs next to Chooch while he was napping. When he woke up, he immediately started exclaiming, "Eyeball!! Eyeball!! Oh, eyeball!!" and when I walked into his room, he was standing up and holding it out proudly, like he was presenting me with a bag of golden ballsacks.

At work, I was telling Collin about Chooch’s big mail day. We talked a little about Chooch’s un-toddler-like, road-to-Goth interests, which prompted Collin to jokingly suggest, "You might as well just start painting his nails black."

I laughed, considering this. "Well, they’re pink right now."

8 comments

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 12:12 Watching horror movies alone sucks. #
• 14:36 Henry just burned me with a bag of steamed peas. That fuck. #
• 16:51 True story: Was reading some shit about Estelle Getty & the next record that came up on my screen was Getty Mart. (Data processor, holla) #
• 16:36 The fact that people are always asking me if Craig Owens is my boyfriend makes me think that I have too many pictures of Chiodos on my desk. #
• 21:23 I don’t remember writing 60% of the stories I have out there. I don’t know what that means.I’m an unbeknownst plagiarizer? I guess perhaps. #
• 23:13 I’d burn a building if I knew you’d die. #
  

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• 10:22 I would not be opposed to planting my face in some fucking buttercream frosting right about now, fuck. #
• 15:05 A Ne-Yo joint comes on and ain’t nuthin’ holding down my inner yo-girl. I come close to breaking out the Butterfly every time. #
• 16:52 Tonight I will speak only in gutteral growls. #
• 18:27 Tina likes mango daiquiris which completely shatters my fantasy of her knocking back Old Crow with the sailors. #
• 20:08 Omfg Craigery. Why?? #
• 23:06 Tonight definitely calls for wine. Lots and lots of wine. #
• 23:12 Do u ever get urges to rip ur veins out so you can see them better? #
• 10:31 Last nite, got drunk on wine while working from home, laugh/cried about work situation/life, read a book. Feel much better/worse. #

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ANTHONY GREEN – Dear Child (I've Been Dying To Reach You)

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Kim just brought this in for me from her garden. Someone’s getting fucked tonight! Look out, Henry; better lube up.

And I just heard Kim tell Tina, "I like all food. Well, except for anything that Erin would eat."

WTF?

9 comments