One Size Fits All

They come in all shapes and sizes. Some have one or none or many for that fact. And they do say either your prone to this personality or your not. Like its genetic. I blame in on the later. Its genetic for sure. Or more so just seems to be more prevelent in the "gimmie generation", too bad I'm "Mosaic" or something.
Lets get down to it. Despite my weird reasons for doing everything and blaming most of my actions on my bizarre personality, I am 100% without a doubt a addict. There are certain things that I must do.
For example. I have to make my bed. Every single day. No matter how late I am, I can not go without making my bed. I smoke cigaretts no matter what every time I'm in the car. I measure my car rides by cigarretts. I buy shoes that are always exactly like ones i already own. I buy I buy I buy. I have narrowed down all my addictive quatlities over the years to just those few.
But currently one trumps them all.
EBAY!!!!!! Ebay is the devil. Just this morning I have spent 3 hours on watching and planning my bids on items. I obcess daily over what to buy and what I could a great deal on. Kind of like your mom with coupons. I justify my buys, with the great price. And what am I buying you ask??
Oh mainly shoes. Always shoes. Boots Boots and boots. Because you can never have enough. Clothes you might ask? Rarely. I can't bring myself to spend money on something other than my other addiction.
I get angry over being outbid, items price going over my price limit, forgetting when a item is ending and pretty much just about everything.
I'm out of control and ebaying as we write.

PartTime

Two sides to every story
but with one life to live one only finds boredom.
No guts no glory and those were the days.
Restless in self pitybut thats the road i chose.
Somehow making my way to the city of angeles.
The closer I can get to heaven maybe the more content I'll feel here on earth.

Tim Burton Sell Me Back The Rights To My Life, .......Thankyou

Everything you think is bogus. And thats a huge assumption. But when it comes to me, I know its true. My parents told me that from the get go, I'm pretty sure somewhere along the lines of the the whole giving birth incident and that nasty womb slash umbilical cord ritual(aka extension cord.)

I'm pretty sure they were counting down the days till I'd just realize it on my own. There's not much I can do about it. The brain washing starts pretty early, although I've had no recent success at babies but I do own some dogs and we all know what a sweetie that dyke is. I don't count the ranch animals cas even though they were adopted they still got the same food and the same crazy life.

I suddenly feel what its like to be barned. Weird.

Tangent. Spell check. . . . ..........................

I wish sometimes I could be like others. Slap that. I wish sometimes I was others.

I wish sometimes I was like you. I wish sometimes I could be you for a day. What its like in another body except this one. My brain got the best of me. They talked me out of it and now I'm royally fucked. Someone rescue me from myself, and not in that retarded song way.

I need some freaking balls. I do way tooooo much right.

Guess I'll just have to live through fucking on demand like I always do. Everyday. All the time.

Ugh.

Maggie

 I fucking HATE my dog. HATE. Capitol letters will only do.  

My boyfriend has a a 17 year old beagle with bigger baggage than the bird lady at central park.

I am refraining myself when I say this dog or rather demon is a bitch. She is crankier than my raciest grandma in Nevada with an attention span of a two year old from her crack addict meds she takes for her thyroid. Yup, I said it---thyroid. Not just medication for obese peeps but for senile dogs as well.  Let me just tell you why I hate this dog so much and why she is so fucking spoiled. 

My boyfriend inherited this little disease like most std's or lemon cars. Somehow, they just know who to pick.  He stumbled upon this death trap one day and the leech just wouldn't go away. 

Kevin has a soft heart for unruley women so it would only make sense that this dog would choose him. 

Anyways maggie is her name. Anything why he picked that sweet name, is a hypocracy to me cas she does not resemble pie or angels or sweet girls that look like angels with pie.

No maggie is short and stumpy. She howls at any moving object and hates black people. Yup, she became racist about 6 months ago when one decided to break in and steal some shit. Ever since anyone with color is not safe. 

Maggie is alfa-female or grandmother as I call her. I stood no chance with my boyfriend in the beginning and she has made it clear. 

Maggie thinks the world is her bed. She especially likes to lay on my pillow.

Maggie loves food. She tries to trick me into thinking that she is dying of hungry at least every 30min.  She's stolen food off plates and wines if bird is cooking. 

For as much as she begs and wants attention all the time---cas she's a whore. She hates to be pet.

Don't even try to think your the FUCKING DOG WHISPERER cas she does not care. Maggie shits whispers for breakfast. She wants you to love her and pet her in this magical non touching way. Otherwise if contact is made your hand is now lunch. 

Even when helping the poor girl from pain she'd rather die from it than have your unworthy hand pet her.   Its those eyes she just looks at you and sucks you in.

If all the cookies and freedom wasn't enough, maggie hates living here so much all she tries to do is run away--WTF!!! See maggie can't be left outside cas she howls so we keep her inside on her princess pillow and have to come home every 6 hours just to let her out. She disrupts my going out schedule worse than my over baring protestant parents.

I really could care less if she dies, but the thing is she's so much fucking like me that when she does I'll probably have a break down.  

Lips like Suga

For all you who have been waiting don't piss yourself the wait is over.  Alas I am back from vegas with pictures to boot.

I figure a play by play will only do and you can decide on how well I handled myself.  

We made it to the airport with barely enough time to conceal our bottle of tequila and decide who's going to brave checking with illegal goods. 

Vegas had it out for me from the get go. I ordered my vodka on the plane to help wash down the white little pill to manage my anxiety. (me and planes don't mix) I must have been on the retard flight cas the male stewardess got his panties all up in confusion in working his payment machine and mine became on the house or rather plane. 

Venetian was the destination and whether my limo made it there or not I was in vegas and already fucked up.  Playing it smart I high tailed my ass the the drugstore and got me some booze. I wanted to be borderline comotose before hitting any "club".

1:30 and nearly 4 hours later 5 bitches were primped to perfection and falling into Prive.

Somehow landing my self bottle service in the lame VIP section with a stripper that somehow happens to be from Oside I gladly drank her booze before almost crapping myself at Sam Ronson's dj beats<------------------Ya thats right. Fucking Sam Ronson.

I always somehow manage to meet a celebrity and the fact that I resemble her girlfriend could either be for or against me but really who cares I was drunk and couldn't tell you what happened  next.

On to bigger and better things as usual I found myself wasted at a gay club. Hording all gay attention and attempting to re-enact Britney Spears's comeback on stage in my Fredrick's of Hollywood dress with no panties on.

Awesome. Reminding myself I'm a lady or rather being kicked off I stole shots off of men in bondage outfits with trays of what made sense to me to be free booze- this club is great I thought.

Being dragged home be the sleepy committee I some how became too drunk to put on clothes and found go fish to be played better naked with a bottle of whiskey. 

11 olclock came no sooner and so did chipotle, the pool, - no swim up bar- bummer-, more pain killers, the mall, 2 hours of relaxation and round two.

Tonight was how drunk can we get Lauren in her cullotts( I am always ok with this). Pure was the name of the game before all the sissy la la's left. So i greabbed to bride to be and did the strip my way. 6 shots later one scuzzy bar, and no luck at black jack she was begging for mercy, so i tucked her in and put my little head down as the next day consisted of hot weather trecking till our flight came in and a one way ticket back to SD.  I popped whats left of fun in a bottle and sedated my way back home only to be stuck next to the biggest douche bag on the flight. 

You know the ones with 2 buttons way to many undone and an ego the size of mine with not nearly enough good looks to be doing that and the personality about as dull as church. I found this excerise to be my punishment for the weekend, sucked it up and made it back safe and sound. 

Overall I am very proud of myself. I did no day drinking, made out with no men, and did not vomit on anyone or myself. So in my book it was a success. 

Vegas was a great time and I can't wait to go back.  Hopefully next time you can come too.

Im going to hell

Its been 3 years since I've been to Vegas.  For some it seems like no big deal, who really cares and for others Vegas is a once a year trip.  But we're not talking about them are we. No, this is about me.

Today I am going to Vegas and thank God kiss is not going. If i had one chance to ruin my life it would consist of me and kiss is Vegas and all I need is 5 hours. Luckily we are smarter than that and also to lazy for that kind of bullshit and stick to our own backyard for self deprecation (or any local pub in our pajamas.) 

Anyhoot time consists of one bible thumping christian bride (no not me, settle down), 1 queen, one asian to fill the quota, 2 big booty ho's and a gq model. Try to control yourself folks. I keep asking why we are choosing this destination. SO...................

I have 2 concerns here, thats a lie, i have many.

1. Will we drink

2. Will i embarrass them drunk...........,or myself <-----not really possible

3. Will I end up at gay bars throwing myself at men unobtainable

4. Will I end up by myself again out 

5. Will I throw up on someone

6. Will Gene Simmons make out with me again

7. Will I make my flight

I already have one of these guaranteed but the rest is up for grabs. Trying to fill a quota this time or have another notch on my belt is not in the picture. (See amazing asian I am loving.)

So I'm only bringing enough oxy's for me and I don't share. Just enough to sedate myself and not have to doggie paddle over to the swim up bar by myself and risk motion sickness and barf in the shallow end. I figure I'm 24 now and I can handle it or rather control myself and by that I mean the group I hired or rather am going with to babysit me.  Either way i'm bound to ruin some part of this trip and most likely when the bride has to hold back my hair.  So this is my public appology. 2 hours till take off.

74 hours till Im back.

holy crap.

PS. If I don't come back on the next flight you can find me at the little white chapel next to Elvis. 

You wish

I wish I had time to blog, I wish I had time for my life, I wish i had time to have time.

Oh this semicharmed life.

Maybe tonight. Maybe.