Boy has it been a while since I have logged into Friendsation. Just to make clear.....I started writing blogs with Jed above about a year ago.....the idea was to have a he said she said type of column going on in which people could post replies and comments about a certain topic. If you look back in the Cats and Dogs archives, you will see some pretty funny blogs to tell you the truth.
The site shut down for a good three or four months....I would go back and check everynow and then to see if it was back up and vwualla. Here it is. Back in action.
Now, I have to start thinking of things to write about, like sex and stuff like that..It has to be interesting of course and knowing me....I could write for hours and hours and hours....but, not tonight.
Does anyone have any questions they want to talk about or write about? Does anyone have any questions about life, love or sex that I could ponder and write about? JUST curious......if so, let me know. I will have to write a blog about it and we can have some discussions.....or whateva........................see ya lata....ttyl. bye.
Okay guys, I have a confession to make. Last night was really shitty. Well, it wasn't so shitty as much as just weird. I have been couch surfing for the past week and I am already about to die. I didn't realize how important having a home was. I feel like a foster child. I am as cold as ice. I am not willing to sacrafice. Oh sorry. I am kinda high right now. But, it was something I just had to do. Its just one of those days. That a girl really does go through. It's all in the mind though. NOT THAT THAT MEANS ANYTHING. So about last night, well, I was in this apartment in Hollywood with this girl who I just met on Craigslist. The good part was that I met her in the music section. If it had been any other, I would feel like a creep. Her and I didn't do anything sexual. We just played guitar together, then walked up and down Hollywood Blvd. together and had lunch. Then I stayed the night.
Well, here's how it really went. About a month ago, I started looking on Craigslist for female musicians. I wanted to find a singing spot, or another girl who wanted to start a band cause I have songs that I want to sing. Bad. So, she emailed me and I emailed her back. Turns out, she grew up in Washington too. We are both from Seattle. She went to Evergreen State College and I was going to go there, all these things were connecting. When we were at lunch, the guy at the register even asked if we were sisters.
When I showed up at her apartment, I realized I had to find a parking spot. It's not easy to find one in the middle of Hollywood. So, I just parked in a red zone.
Oh man........pardon my memory. I need to add more. So, I showed up and walked in the direction of the Musicians Institute where she attends. We were supposed to meet in front of the place. I felt like a dork because I was standing in front of the Musicians Institute of Hollywood carrying my guitar with no case. I looked like a bum. Then, we had to walk all the way to her apt. with me carrying my guitar out in the open. Now do you understand why men make their women wear long drapes over their body and face in Afghanastan? I didn't want my guitar to get son damaged.
We showed up at her apartment and when we walked in, it was at least 18 degrees hotter inside than outside in the hallway. Immediate heat dehydration. I spotted a mattress on her living room floor and thought "I want to stay here. She has a mattress." So, I set my guitar down and she sat down on the futon and we just sat there in silence with our guitars in our laps. I was thinking "I wonder what she is thinking." Then, I started to strum my guitar. She started to strum her guitar. We strummed for about two mniutes. Then, I said "do you have any songs?" She said "yea, have you ever heard of Melissa Etheridge?" I was like. No. I am dumb.
She started to play Melissa Etheridgâ€™s song titled Come to My Window and Eat My Pussy. She sounded pretty good. Her voice was very loud and on key. She played the whole song the whole way through. Then it was my turn. I said "I can play Mr. Jones" She said, "Really?" So, I started playing. I didn't want to play as good as I really can because I just don't like too right now. I want to keep it to myself. I am still not that sure of myself. I played about 2/3 of the song and then said I couldn't remember the rest. And, I don't. I wasn't lying. So, we made up another part of a song. Then, we just laid around. I passed out on the mattress, she went on the computer and then into her bedroom and I just laid there. Laid there. Hot, sweaty, sticky and drenched in sweat. I didn't want to get up. It felt too good, even though I was sweating my clothes off. I fell asleep and in the middle of the night my bra got too tight, so I took it off. Then, I unbuttoned my pants cause they were all tight and sweaty. There were no sheets, no blankets and no pillows. Just me. I fell into a deep slumber, then I heard her waking up and coming out into the living room. When I opened my eyes, the daylight was shining in the cracks of the blinds. I new that I had "passed" out.
I could tell she was going to come around the corner and look at me to see what I was doing, when I realized that I had better button up my pants. I quickly moved to the corner of the bed which was divided by one of those five sided pieces of wood that are connected on hinges, they are things that you get dressed behind, well, this one was white with black checkers. So, I moved around behind this and quickly buttoned up my pants. She didn'T see anything.
Okay, I really want to finish this story, but I don't think I can right now. My eyes are hurting, and I don't really know what else I would do but just sit here. I don't know, I am thinking that I might stop and then I think no, I want to keep typing. I don't know what else I would do? I don't really feel like moving. I never do. I wish I could sleep all day long. And then maybe wake up in the night sometimes. I totally just got distracted. By these two guys. Yea, so I might take a break for a while.
My heart is breaking right now. My body is numb and weak. I can't afford food. I can't afford anything. I am broke. Completely broke. I am broke. I am a broke chick. I look and feel like a broke chick. I haven't showered in two days and probably won't for another two. I stink right now. My heart hurts. I can barely type this, but I want too. Typing is my hobby. I am so stressed out right now, I don't know what to do. I am so confused. I just want peace. I am so angry. Pissed. Just mad. I just want JOY. FUCKING JOY. Why is it so hard? Why do I have such high standards? My standards are killing me. KILLING ME. I wish I could be happy working at McDonalds like Kevin Spacey on American Beauty. But, I am not like him. I have nothing in common with anyone. I am a loner. A complete loner.
Hi, I was just curious if anyone ever reads this. I might not ever know if you do, but if you do then you should send me an email and say something, well, I guess its up to you. I totally have nothing to say right now, I actually shouldnt even be blogging because I stopped getting paid for this shit, which is why no one is blogging. Oops. My bad. Yea, so if you want to know the truth, it's cause we stopped getting paid. That's why no one is blogging, they all think they are too good to write without pay. It's cool though, I don't really fuckin care. Sometimes I just feel like typing and tonight is one of those nights. I watched a really gay firework show tonight. Imagine standing about a mile away from where they were shooting off the fireworks? Can you picture it yet? Probably not. I could barely either. But, I decided it was worth staying for, while I was there, I started to wonder what JULY 4th was for? I dont even know. Is that dumb that I dont know?
I am sitting at a desk with a plastic purple buddah cat sitting cross legged in front of me with a big beaded necklace around his neck. Did you know that no one likes to read? It's a non= - proven fact that I heard. No one likes to read, but I am going to try and change that. I hate reading too. What is the point? Why would I want to fucking read? What is so good about reading? All it is is language and what I have come to understand about this world is that you can't believe anything anyone says, so what is the point in fucking reading? If you want to win my heart, shut the fuck up. No, that sounded bad, I think I sounded like a dude, okay, if you want to win my heart, be really good looking, give me back massages every night, be really good looking, smell good, have a lot of money (this is all one big lie), and thats about it.
So, another thing I have come to the conclusion about is how the sex drive of a man resembles the eating drive of a woman. Men. Think about how badly you want to have sex. Well, that is how bad women want to eat sometimes. You have the whole ricter scale though, You have the men who rarely need sex, while you have the women who rarely need food, and you have the men who have boners all day long and you have the women who have chunky fat all over their body. Now do you get it? Men can't understand why women have chunky fat all over their body. Well, women can't understand how men can't control their sex drive.
Okay, well I am done with this, done. I am DONE. I dont want to deal with this anymore.
I have been listening to Insane in the Membrane packing all my stuff up getting ready to surf LA. I don't mean by board, I mean couch surf, so if anyone has a nice comfy couch, give me a hollar. I will come crash with you and make your life miserable. No, just kidding. I will entertain you. I will even strip for you.
So, anyways, my roommates are playing foosball and I am inhaling the beautiful scent of old tea light candles that I dug out of a drawer, I figured I would celebrate my last night here by drinking a beer and listening to trance music.
I don't know if some of you know this, but I am just blabbing right now, I don't really have anything meaningful to say, i just wanted to say hi. So, anyways, have a great night and feel free to say hello!
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