Saturday, July 28, 2001

Porn Star, Baby



I got a smutty e-mail in my hotmail inbox, which isn't surprising. What was surprising was when I noticed who else the the smut was sent to ALL Brittany's. Brittany pierce's and brittany smith's and every thing you can pair with a brittany. Because my name is Brittany, I apparently get it too. Since when does your name determine whether you're more or less likely to look and buy porn off the internet? I'll have everyone know that there are just as many good free sights as there are paying sights. Come on you guys, be picky with your porn. Sheesh. These people think I'd pay for their cum shots? I don't think so. The only sites I'd ever send money to are sites that I like and want the people to be rich from.

Anyways...people have been outbidding me on e-bay, thank god. I want to buy a corset. They're pricy though. However, I found a UK based sight that sells a really pretty decorative one, and I might buy it when I have money...ooh *squeals* My problem is I like every "look", so it's hard for me to get a nice wardrobe. Because instead of spending all my money on, oh, goth stuff, I want to buy goth and punk and prep and *sigh*. It's hard to convince people you're serious when one day you wear all black and the next day you wear J. Crew. Pixie

Friday, July 27, 2001

Addicted to Ebay



Will someone please please please take me away from ebay?? The total cost of the items I'm currently winning is 22.58. That doesn't include shipping, honeys. And that doesn't even include all the stuff I'm *going* to buy (I was outbid on a few things, but I'll snag them at the last minute because they still have a few days left). Want to know what I'm buying? Glad you asked.

Anti-Raciscm Canvas Punk Patch cost:$1.99 shipping:$.50
*I Was A Teenage Dominatrix cost:$6.50 shipping:$3.50
Marilyn Monroe Pin cost:$.06 shipping:$3.75
*Poe - "hello" (CD) cost:$4.00 shipping:$2.00
2 Audrey Hepburn Pins cost:$2.95 shipping:$1.00
*Ani Difranco - "dilate" (CD) cost:$4.75 shipping:$2.20
Keebler Elf Patch cost:$.99 shipping:$2.49
*Ani Difranco - "living in clip" (CD) cost:$13.50 shipping:$3.00
*Ani Difranco - "little plastic castle" (CD) cost:$5.59 shipping:$2.50
*Linkin Park - "hybrid theory" (CD) cost:$2.25 shiping:$4.00

Yes kiddies, that is a lot of money. I just have to keep reminding myself that a regular CD costs 14 bucks at the mall ("living in clip" is a double CD set, okay??). I need to stop...ugh ugh ugh. The "*"ed items are ones that I must have...and even just those will have a total cost of: $53.79. Oh dear. If you want to help sponsor this little habit of mine you can e-mail me to offer to help pay and I could send you complimentary duct-taped pictures. You think I'm kidding? I'm not. I need money, ugh. What shall I do? Right now I have like, 75 bucks cash. I'll only earn 30 bucks before I leave for Boston. My dad said something about getting me those Visa-teenage credit cards (where your parents put money on it, and you can only spend the money you have), he said something like 100 bucks. But is that for me or for my uncle? If anyone out there is a hooker, e-mail me. We can chat. I promise I'm entertaining. I'll dance for you, I'll sing for you, I'll serenade you with my humor. *sigh* Pixie

Orgasm



I should explain that "orgasm" is a term I use to express complete delight. "She has over 600 CDs?! Orgasm!". With the exception of the hiddiously scary dream I had a few hours ago (I hate scary dreams...I can take anything in real life, just bring it on baby, but scary dreams...no control whatsoever. I can't handle that, I hate it, it freaks the shit out of me, especially when I know I'm dreaming and can't wake myself up...and I just have to keep going in the dream). There are a few websites I'd like to recomend right now.

www.insearchofsin.com Two lovely ladies exploring new themes every month.
www.hookonline.org (this is my orgasmic site, actually. The second I saw "Ask a Whore FAQ" I knew I'd spend a long time here).
www.soapboxgirls.com

I need to stop my obsession with becoming a sex worker. But even if I don't, it's fun to read about. I felt so relieved to find my way into stripping and into porno to finally be what I was, which was touchy, feely chatty, boobie feeling, butty feeling, huggy huggy, flirt, flirt, flirt, and have that be acceptable behavior - quote from a porn star. See? That's nice. But anyways...lately I've been having really intense orgasms, horribly intense and they hurt :( Not cool. They're supposed to be fun, not painful. Pixie

Thursday, July 26, 2001

Whenever I see Biscuit, I know that everything's going to be okay, because I feel deliriously happy, and I can't get this goofy look off of my face, and I can't stop licking my lips for a taste of him. And smelling my shirt because it smells like him. Because every time he leaves I wish a trace of him would be left behind. The rather obvious good news is that I saw Biscuit for like, 15 minutes (and it all worked out, because my mom went to school, so he actually got to see the inside of my house and my room and stuff). The bad news is...he leaves to California on Tuesday. Right, that's five days from now. He'll be gone for two weeks. So he gets back the 14, but...I leave the 7th. So, I won't see him until I get back on the 20th. *pout* Pixie Oh yeah, and I don't get to go to youth group today because I don't have a ride. *sigh*
I fell asleep. I fell asleep and missed Biscuit's call by 17 minutes. He's not home....his cell is turned off, and chances are I won't be seeing him today. Great.... :(

Blisters and Naseau and Big Pants, Oh my!



I wanted to quit cross country today. I should have known it would be a bad day, you can tell these things by how you wake up in the morning. I didn't wake up...that was the problem. I fell asleep around 4:30 or 5 am (keep in mind my alarm is set for 5:20). My dad kept waking me up but I kept falling back asleep. Paco came by, I said I wasn't going. My dad begged and pleaded and I said okay and got my ass out of bed, arriving at cross country 20 minutes late. However, not late enough, because I still had to do a half mile warm up :( Then came the fun part. (by the way, Paco actually never came over, lol, my dad's tactic for getting me out of bed)

Intervals. Sprints. Torture. Hell. If you've ever run cross country or track then you know exactly what I'm talking about. We had to do 4x800's (800=half a mile) and 3x400's (400=quarter mile). Is that how they say things in cross country? Well, it's how we did it in swimming so I'll just keep it. I have no idea what my times were, I didn't even pay attention, I was just too...ill. Only Meghan (paco's college-bound sister), Paco, Auggie, Galen, Jeremy, Janelle, Fairie Chick, and I were there. So...Meghan, Auggie, Galen, Jeremy and Janelle take off...Fairie Chick and I are miserbly slow, and Paco is behind us. It was horrible. After the first one I was pretty ill. After the third one I was even worse, I was just crying and felt naseated and sick and miserable. It's so horibble because I couldn't wipe my tears or my sweat off of my face because my arms and clothes are just covered in sweat already. Fairie Chick nursed me and kept telling me I couldn't quit.

We finished up...and I was still dead set I didn't want to do cross country anymore. After weight training I did feel better, but it's just like...I'm not any good at it, I don't enjoy it - actually I hate it and I suck at it, so why keep going? What's the point? I have blisters and ugh...it was just bad. I don't know...my dad said I shouldn't quit. He said that I'm just mad because it's "interferring with my computer time and sleeping" and that's such bullshit because it's not that. I don't give a damn about the computer and I never gave a damn about sleeping. This morning he said that maybe we should buy a program so we can limit my computer time because I'm not getting enough rest :/ I hate this. He doesn't act like a parent any rest of the time, but if something might interfere with my running then here he comes, Super Dad. Because once again, there is a trend in my family not to act like you acknowledge my exsistence unless I'm doing something to displease you. It is most irksome.

That's another thing...at the very end of my three years with my dance team, I was miserable. In our second to last performance I actually had a breakdown, threw a fit, and did everything I could to get out of performing (this was....about 30 minutes before show time, keep in mind). I did end up performing, and it was probably one of the best in my life. Why? Because it was the first time I performed for me. It was the first time I danced because I wanted to dance. I mean, sure, I liked dancing, and I was okay at it so I did it. But I also did it for my parents. Because I've always been the inferior child. My brother had band, and when he was younger soccer, and for a while swim team. I never had anything...I sucked at soccer, I never made a goal, not once in a real game. My attempts at instruments were futile. My grades sucked, I had nothing. That's not true, I had synchro and swim team, but my mom did not come to ANY of my swim meets (my dad came to a few to pick me up, although I don't think he ever saw me actually swim). My dad never came to synchro meets and my mom only came to the ones she had to take me to (which weren't many since Sperm Girl's mom took us to a lot, and a lot were at the pool across the street). So...those were never good enough for my parents, and I was never good enough to draw them to come (althought that was also a time thing).

I thought maybe if I started to dance then my parents would be proud of me. That they would come to my shows and tell me how good I was. Nope. They came to a fair amount of shows...and sometimes they'd tell me I was good, and sometimes they'd just complain about all the shit they had to do. They never said they were proud of me, not once. The day I had my little breakdown (because I was tired of working my ass off and getting nothing...), my mom came backstage crying (as I'm frantically trying to change costumes and redo my hair) asking me how could I ever think she wasn't proud of me. Well...how about the fact that she never said it, or acted like it, and treated it like it was just a burden to her, and nothing I've ever done was good enough for her.

Besides that one time, she never said she was proud of me again. By that point, I was done dancing for her, and now they're not allowed to see me perform. I will never dance in front of them, ever again. They're not allowed to come to see me take class at my studio, they're not allowed to come to Open House to see me dance. I won't have any of it. What does this have to do with running? Well I'm afraid that the same thing is going to happen. I'm afraid that I'll start running for my parents (my dad ran his first marathon last year) and stop running for me, and then I'll just be miserable and sick because I'll never be good enough. My dad's been a little distanced in the few hours since I said I was thinking of quitting...

I got friendly with Ben and Jerry. I miss those two ;) THey have a new flavor, and it is like the goddess of all other ice cream flavors. Half Chocolate Chip Cookie dough, half Double Chocolate Brownie. It's called Half Baked, and it's the yummiest thing ever. I don't care if Ben and Jerry did sell out, their ice cream rules.

While I was walking home from the corner store there was this weird looking guy. I can't describe it, I don't know why, but he looked a little strange. I crossed the street (because that's how to get to my house, and because ever since I was oh, 11, I learned that it doesn't matter how baggy your clothes on, scuzzy assholes will look and whistle and threaten and give you a hard time). And he yells to me (as I prepare to run and scream) "yo little sister! those are fat ass pants you're wearing! right on!". I don't know why, but that made me feel good.

And....I'm going to go take a shower because I'm sweaty and gross and I'm supposed to see Biscuit today. Pixie

Wednesday, July 25, 2001

Okay I'm a loser, leave me alone, but I'm all giddy because a really sexy gay friend of mine likes Duck, and Duck thinks my sexy gay friend is sexy. Yay! They'd be so cute together. We'll call sexy gay friend Star, mmhm. Because his name is really beautiful, and unusual, and when I get really personal about my close friends I don't want their real names to be on here, since I don't really have permission to talk about them. So anyways, wouldn't it be great if they got together? It would be, they'd be cute. Except Star is 18 and Duck is 16, but it's not a problem. See, I don't prepare to get gay friends together. Star asked me if Duck is a top and I have no idea...is he? Well...sorta...I don't know, I don't know how top one has to be to be considered an actually top. Duck is...I don't know, but they'd be really sexy together. Pixie Why oh why can't Biscuit and I ever...I don't know....as Fairie Chick said "why are you two even together?". I'm not sure either.

Ani



Sometimes I just need to shut the fuck up, but for the lack of anything better to do I'll just go ahead and write a third blog for the day (the day!!), but first I have to do this. I've been wanting to...but now I'm going to. These are the best most funniest most slinkster cool slam bam lyrics by Ani Difranco. Some of them are actually her just talking to the crowd (from some live mp3s I snagged). You better read them. You know who you are!

Here's a little snipit of the folk singer at 18. Just moved to New York and she's had her mouth hanging open for about three days. I remember vividly the whole learning process of all the prostitutes that were working the little cobblestone street below my window. It's like, no honey, those are not women, they look a lot like women, but it's like...wow...they're purty. And then, it was like, so, um, there was a deck off of, well, it was kind of a roof really, as you know patios in New York are the, they're roofs of other buildings, and there was chalk outlines of bodies on mine. So, I, I inquired about them one day and somebody was like, well I don't know, I think they were a joke.

I'm starting to get over the urge to kill somebody and into the urge to rock. *giggles* They are so close, really, on the food chain, you know it's like, rock and roll, you know, ax murderer.

You guys look so funny, all bouncy. Oh no don't stop! I'm sorry! You were like, what do you mean I look funny? I mean, I hate to be the only funny bouncy one in the room, really.

You know I'm only 5 foot 2 and I'm giggly, wiggly.

If you have the mp3 for Travel Tips or all the lyrics please please e-mail me!Well, we were supposed to be in this town, sleeping soundly in bed, with toilets really near by, but, but, instead we were what? we were in the study in a dormitory at the University of Chicago

Okay, my obsessions are done. I didn't see Biscuit...car problemos, but they're all fixed now so hopefully I'll be able to see him tomorrow. I don't know how I'll work that out...for the daytime and all you know. My dad and bro will be gone, so I just have to throw off my mom which shouldn't be too hard. Hmm. So...I don't know, I'm all tired and blah blah so I haven't got much to say. Can you believe I actually shut up with my Biscuit? The fact that I shut up at all...that's amusing in and of itself. But...I chatter stupidly to him. I said "hot" and "hard" in the same sentance and I swear to god he giggled. Weee. Umm...hmm...I frenched braided my hair. I finally got it, yay! I actually look good with it (my mom came home and started asking me if I was wearing makeup or if I changed my eyebrows or what...nope...) but I feel stupid with it, like I'm trying to look like Lara Croft (who is sexy for a cartoon anyway, but that's not the point).

My house smells funny, and I don't know what from. I sniffed around, but to no avail. My hair grew! Oh hell yeah, it's now 34 inches :) So...errm...yeah. I have wrinkles in my forehead. I can't help it, when I read or get confused I wrinkle up my forehead, and I read and get confused a lot...Oh dear, I know I'm babbling on now but I just don't want to stop. Do you ever notice how a lot of cartoons are actually cute adn should be real people? Like Trent on Daria, he'd be a hottie. Same thing with Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (maybe I just have weird tastes...).

Hmm...uhh, I"ll go now. Yeah. Ohhh, I just thought of a new name for my blog. "Pixie Huggles, Elephant Huggles, and Biscuit Dreams". It's good, yes? No? I think it would be too long. Maybe I should explain that, yeah, that's something to do. Umm, a huggle is a mix of a hug and a snuggle (thank you Chinese Jason for that word back in like, 7th grade), Pixie Huggles are obviously huggles from me. I'm not sure when I came up with the Elephant Kisses part...it just popped out one day, and my definition of Elephant Kisses are those kiss that you never will/want to forget (cuz y'know...an elephant never forgets). And Biscuit Dreams, well those would obviously be dreams involving some biscuits. Just don't take mine.

Does anyone wonder what my biscuit looks like? Does anyone wonder what any of my people look like? I think one day I'll put up a glossary so you can be all cool with my slang terms (biscuits, croisants, eclairs, ducks, crackers, slinkster, scuzzy, etc...), and you'd know who my people are, and I'd give you a little cartoon of them. Yes? No? Damnit it's no fun when my blog doesn't talk back *pout* Pixie

The thunder woke me up, it was so loud and near I thought that I could feel the house shake beneath my feet. Then the rain started. Big wet blobs, loud, hard, falling to the ground. I ran outside to check the mail, saw two kids riding their bikes up the street. Remembered riding my bike with Sperm Girl, trying to go through the mini floods that would occur between our two houses. No interesting mail, ran back inside. Thought of my dream, of the person calling my name in the rain, of being happy and safe finally. Thought of me seeing Biscuit later. Curious. Left my sandals by the door, didn't want to make a mess that I'd have to mop up anyway. My skin was wet, I licked the rain water off of myself. I opened the blinds to my backyard, almost a new world. A topiary unicorn, angel, and squirrel stared at my curiously. The red brick patio my mom built by hand turned a crimsom from the rain. The lime tree and the other little trees and plants that I never bothered to learned the names of get a new watering. It looks almost heavenly. The sky is a grey/blue, reminding me of someone's eyes, but I don't know who. I can see bright blue sky and puffy cotton candy clouds in the distance, but for now, it storms. I change my shirt, putting on a shirt from my floor that needs to be washed. Suddenly I smell him. I'm surrounded by his scent and I long to feel his arms around me. But all I'm left with is a dirty shirt.

Chickclick



I miss the message boards. I had over 1,000 posts and 17 people were watching me. But, the general feelings on the boards turned really icky and bitchy. I hate that, because usually the atmosphere was really nice. I go back every now and then to check out the Arts board and the Crafty board, just because for the most part there wasn't too much flaming there. And one of my old threads was new...it was "Make me into a fairy please". So many gurls posted their ideas about how I could make myself more fae-ish. They all told me how they thought it was such a good/cool idea and gave me their best wishes. One person said the thread was "bumpaliscious" and it should be more posted in. It was just so nice to read all the new posts, everyone was so supportive. I'll get new fairie wings soon, since my old ones mysteriously disapear.

Duck is gay. Duck is an exboyfriend of mine, who used to be bi, and now he's decided he's gay. I'm glad he's figuring out who he is, and I'm happy for him, although if it ever comes up (that I'm his ex) it would be a little awkward because...well I'm a chick, lol. I also found out that Duck used to do some prossie work. I couldn't believe it...I knew that back in the day he was heavy into drugs and even institutionalized, very out of control. I should have guessed, how does an 8th grade guy make money for drugs? Sell himself, of course. So anyways, Duck was telling me about his new duck, and all their fun times and I live vicariously through them.

I was talking to Biscuit last night...I think he was drunk, I hope he was drunk because he wasn't making a lot of sense. Something about how society makes him compare his companions to everything around him and how the only time he can let go of that is when he's drunk. And how getting drunk is okay because he goes numb but getting stoned never helped him artistically and just ruined him philisophically. And how he doesn't like to go out but he just likes to be with someone to get away from it all (not sure if he was talking about us going out, or just leaving the house in general there...). So, I don't know, it was a little worrisome. We got into a little slam about cutting...I argued that it was to make you feel numb, he argued that it was to make you feel. I just wanted to say "fuck you have you ever cut? I did it for five years and I know what it was like". But...I didn't, I just asked him if he ever cut himself and it turns out he has, *bitter laugh*. Of course he has. Do you know that I only have two friends who have never cut themselves? Fairie Chick and Paco. Duck has, Biscuit has, Jessy does...*sigh* Anyways, I'm supposed to see him today. Actually he called me last night, all very last minute, but I can't just sneak out that fast. It's harder now because he has a 10pm curfew :/ Will we ever work it all out? Ah well, I'm happy for the most part.

Went to cross country today...it was hard. I cheated a lot. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't. Sometimes it's just one of those days. Fairie Chick and I talked a lot, though. This guy in a red Mustang drove by and yelled at us. Just a big "whooohooo!", so we blew kisses at him. She recognized his car from the firework stand and we saw him before when we ran Harmon hill. His car makes him a biscuit. I don't even know if he's cute, but his car makes him an eclair. It's an awesome car, the kind you want to have sex on. Hehe. We appreciated what he did, he wasn't rude, he wasn't crude, he wasn't obscene, he just yelled, and that's better than what we get from most assholes when we run :/

I downloaded a lot of Ani songs...I know, how stereotypical, the bi chick likes Ani Difranco, and I'm sorry but she's awesome. I love listening to live clips, because you can just feel the energy and it just makes me smile all goofily funny. Just because I want to go "yes yes!" because it's just so perfect. Oh, and I'm addicted to ebay. Ugh, how will I pay for all these things? Yesterday I bid on an anti-raciscm canvas punk patch (it says "fuck white supremisists" and has a picture of this chick looking all betty-homemaker), the book "I Was A Teenage Dominatrix", two MxPx patches, a keebler elf patch, and the Poe CD, "hello". I'm addicted...Pixie

Tuesday, July 24, 2001

Other Rooms, Other Voices



That was a pretty good book, it's by Truman Capote, though I don't recall what it's about. I hate it when that happens...I have so many favorite books that I could never tell you what they're about, just because it's been such a long time since I've read them, and they've 'disappeared' (read: my mom took them to the used bookstore that bitch).

Anyways...I woke up this morning with the room spinning. The room was still spinning when I closed my eyes. So...I layed down until it stopped and then got up. My internet is slow...and not working at all on my brother's computer, so I read for a little while. Orphans by VC Andrews. It's really four short books in one big book, and I had already read them all a while ago, but I read them again anyway. I need to read the books that my uncle gave me. I've only read one. :( Just haven't been in the mood.

My mom reminded me to do my chores again, because "you were with us all day on sunday and didn't do them yesterday", to that I replied that I haven't been feeling well, and she rolled her eyes and said "oh, that's right". Love you too mom. Not really. But...I don't mind cleaning, actually. I just like to be alone when i do it so I can blast my music and shake my bum.

I'm wearing shorts right now, baggy PJ shorts and my boy's shirt. Everytime I wear shorts I do a double take when I pass the mirror. One of my earliest memories was me standing in front of the mirror, looking at myself, and my mom coming up behind me and apologizing that I inherited her ugly legs. I was like...I don't know, 8? 11? And I always thought I had cute legs. Of course I did, all little kids have cute legs. But ever since then I've hated my legs, and usually I wear pants, even when I'm running. So...when I walk past a mirror in shorts I stare for a few seconds at my legs, wondering why they're attatched to my body. I suppose in my head I just have it pictured that my legs are two big white unshapely cellulitey blobs. But they're not....they're a dancer's legs and a runner's legs and a swimmer's legs.

*sigh* I feel like a Beverly, a Beverly that has to be a maid for her family. I had better go clean. Pixie

Monday, July 23, 2001

Lemon Meringue


I call this song, lemon meringue, heh, that was a bad joke eh? But listen, this will be a good song

And you know what? It is. It really is. I just don't understand that part. What is the joke in the lemon? Or is it in the meringue? I hope that that's some inside joke that makes people grin. I went to buy candy...two sour punch, one skor, and a twix for the Sibling. I didn't have enough money, only 3 bucks, but the lady only charged me for three things. I wonder if she was just distracted and didn't notice (she was talking on a cell phone) or if she noticed I was holding three bills in my hand and did it on purpose (I had no pockets, okay?). I hope it was the latter, just because I wish there were people like that in the world. She called me 'sweetie', and I didn't mind.

My head hurts...I still cooked dinner. I think my parents like to pretend that I'm not here, and I don't talk or anything, because they act like they never see or hear me. I bring this up because I've been cussing a lot around them lately, and they just act like I didn't say it at all. And today...I'm cutting my meat, debating whether I should go to cross country or not, because I feel so ill. Then my mom asks me if we're having tea for dinner. I laughed and said only if she made it. She gave me this look like she couldn't understand what I was talking about. I just wanted to scream at her, did you not hear me say I feel so ill I might not go to cross country tomorrow? Again!? Do you not see me stumble around the kitchen, frequently putting my head between my knees waiting for the nasea pass? Do you not see me pressing my fingers to my temples because my head aches? Well, apparently she doesn't.

I'm not going to cross country tomorrow. I just feel too grossie. Too tired and sick and ill. Fairie Chick found her Secret Agent Lover Man, but where's mine? My biscuit is great...but not My Secret Agent Lover Man. Jess found hers, and then she turned out to be wrong. Fairie Chick and I used to talk about how Jess and her My Secret Agent Lover Man would be together forever, I would have betted my life on it, and I cried when I found out he was a scuzzy asshole that broke up with her. So, when I find My Secret Agent Lover Man, how will I know that he's him? And that when he leaves he'll come back? Fairie Chick found hers...will he leave too? Will my biscuit turn out to be My Secret Agent Lover Man, and I won't know until it's too late? But he doesn't have blonde hair or green eyes or that tan skin, like the boy in my dream. I wonder if the boy in my dream had an Australian accent? I know he spoke, but I didn't hear his voice. As though we were telepathic or something.

Well, I'm happy with my biscuit, I just wish I could see him sometimes. I leave for Boston for two weeks, and the week before that he goes to Cali. Three weeks. I keep seeing this guy. He has very strange greenish eyes. They glow like a cat's. I saw him at the supermarket last week, and today as I walked to the corner store he drove past. He goes to my high school, at the store he was wearing a ****** Football shirt. Hmmm...it's strange when you see people outside of normal settings.

I used to always freak out when I saw CJ or Mickie or one of the other lifegaurds outside of their gaurding suits. In normal clothing. It's the same with dance class. When I saw mister Joey outside of class (he came to my careers class. Man, can he dress. He was wearing chunky funky black boots, baggy jeans - the perfect baggy jeans. By that I mean that they're baggy and not saggy. A tight, short sleeve, light green shirt, a black leather jacket). I didn't recognize him at first. I said to myself, "self, who's that cutish older guy checking me out? he looks familiar....OH MY GOD IT'S JOEY!" He wasn't, of course, checking me out, lol.

Speaking of CJ, he's at college now. Now that he's gone I sorta miss him. I want to see him and hang out, JUST hang out mind you. But I don't think I could. I'm a very forgiving person. I forgave Sperm Girl a million times over, but when you cross a line, I'll be bitter. And he crossed that line. It got better when we...talked and stuff. That made me feel a lot better, actually, it was my inspiration to stop cutting (thank you CJ, if you read this). But...it still hurts to see him. I think of his face and his eyes (oh god, his eyes...) and his goofy smile and his hugs, and it's just too...icky. I'm definetly over him, I was over him long ago. I guess maybe it's just that he's a memory of what happens when I trust someone. When I let myself get close and care, and I suppose that's my problem.

I'm not going to cross country tomorrow. I'm definetly ill. I just feel weak, my head is agonizing, I feel naseous and tired and hot. If I didn't know better I'd think I was pregnant or something. Fortunatly, I know better. I wonder if my brother checks the history from his computer. Because, if he does, then he'd be very worried about me. Let's see...in there it would be some websites about abortion, some clinics in Vegas that perform them (wow, they're cheaper than I thought, and I can be given laughing gas for free, which is good to know in case I'm ever preggers), victimsofmasturbation.org or some silly site like that (research for Scarleteen.com, mind you), scarleteen, scarletletters...he's going to think I'm some pregnant nympho! Not that there's anything wrong with being a nympho, lol. Jess said I looked like a nymph one day. We were in PE, in our lovely uniforms, and I was hugging my knees to my chest, but still on my feet. We were playing soccer.

I want to go get wasted. Really really wasted. I want to drink so much that my summer passes by in a blur. I get like this sometimes...it's times like this that I start craving cigarettes and try to figure out who I can charm into buying me some vodka or pot. It doesn't happen often, but more often than not it ends in a major cutting episode. But I'm over that. I'm better now. I wouldn't mind getting the vodka and cigs, but I don't want any pot. If anyone in Vegas wants to hook me up, e-mail me. I'm cute. I promise. I'm also kidding, but you should e-mail me anyway. Pixie

My below post isn't complete!!! Well, it shows up on my computer, but not on the Mac. After <<< i said that I'd want to be the Volumptious Bad Girl Brunette. The Volumtuous Bad Girl Virgin Dominatrix Brunette. Okay, there. And I'm not a Nymphomaniac, I swear.

Mind-splitting headaches are not good. Nu-uh. And I have to go to cross country tomorrow *groan* And I have to wake up early *groan* And I have been going to bed late. Running after getting only 14 hours of sleep in three days was bad enough. But to run, after 4 hours of sleep, with a headache is just nonesense. *sigh* I'm going to go hug my teddybear. Pixie
To play this game we could chose from a variety of playing-pieces: the Bad Girl, the Good Girl, the Virgin, the Whore, the Prude, the Nymphomaniac, the Easy, the Frigid, the Blonde, Brunette, or Redhead, the Voluptuous, the Waif-like, the Pretty or the Skanky. <<
I had a dream about this chick last night. I ate her out under water (which, even in a dream, is hard to pull off because you've got to keep coming up for air). I think I'm the only person on this earth who doesn't like sex dreams. I just don't, I don't know why. Probably because my sex people are never agressive. I'm the one that's trying to get laid, and I don't like that. I like agressive people, very agressive. I want someone who is wild and passionate and isn't shy about saying "suck my cock". I want someone who doesn't mind me giggling when they're eating me out. Sometimes I wonder if I think about sex too much. It's a goddamn conspiracy. First Poe. Then bust.com. *sigh* But, I'll leave you with these lyrics from Poe - "Hey Pretty" (actually, it's her brother reading from his book, but I don't know his name)

Keiri suggested we go for a drive in her new 2-door BMW coupe
In the parking lot, we slipped into her bucket seats
Keiri took over from there.
At nearly 90 miles per hour she zipped us up to that windy edge
Known to some as Mullholland, that sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica Mountains
Where she then proceeded to pump her vehicle in and out of turns
Sometimes dropping down to 50 miles per hour, only to immediately gun it back up to 90 again
Fast, slow, fast fast slow
Sometime a wide turn sometimes a quick one she preferred the tighter ones
The sharp controlled jerks, swinging left to right before driving back to the right
Only so she could do it all over again until after enough speed, and
enough wind, and more distance than I had been prepared to expect
Taking me to parts of the city I rarely think of and never visit...
I can't remember the inane things I started babbling about then, I know it didn't really matter, she wasn't listening
She just yanked up on the emergency brake, dropped her seat back, and told me to lie on top of her
On top of those leather pants of hers, extremely expensive leather pants

mind you, her hands immediately guiding mine over those soft, slightly oily folds
Positioning my fingers on the shiny metal tab, small and round, like a tear
Then murmuring a murmur so inaudible that even though I could feel her
lips tremble against my ear, she seemed far, far away
Pinch it, she said, which I did, lightly, until she also said pull it,
which I also did, gently parting the teeth, one at a time, down under
and beneath, the longest unzipping of my life...
We never even kissed, or looked into each other's eyes, our lips just
Trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears,
Filled them with the private music of wicked words
Hers in many languages, mine in the off-color of my only tongue, until
as our tones shifted and our consonants spun and squealed, rabbled faster, hesitated, raced harder
Syllables soon melting into groans or moans, finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words
Until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too
much the dark lane which we had suddenly stumbled upon
Prayed to, carved to, not a communication really, but a channeling of
our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to black forests and
wolves, mine banging back to the familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of
Which in spite of our separate lusts and individual prize, still
continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn
Fueled by sound, hers screeching, mine...I didn't hear mine, only hers, probably counter-pointing mine
A high pitched cry, then a whisper dropping unexpectedly, to practically
a bark, a grunt, whatever, no sense anymore, and suddenly no more curves either, just the straightaway
Too bad dark languages rarely survive..."


Everyone should have a girl like Keiri in their life. And everyone should have her car too :) Pixie



Sunday, July 22, 2001

I'm Rich and Famous, Daahhhling



I went and saw my new baby cousin, I love that kid. He's...four days old, his name is Jonathan, and he's the only one of my cousins on that side of the family that doesn't speak Spanish, heehee. I held him for a pretty long time, he was a little fussy, but altogether good. My mom looked at me with that strange look in her eye and said "you look so good with kids baby". People have always said that about me. I remember when my cousin Angel Andres was born. I was like, 9, and I was holding him and my aunt was like "*sigh* you look like you'd be a good mother. you just look so right with him." I was 9! Oh well, I want lotsa kids anyway, so I guess that's a good thing. I can't wait to be a mom :) Well, I can.

Then we decided to go look at some houses, because my parents are planning on buying a house on of these days. First stop was the rich rich neighborhood. That was a little depressing to walk into there. My mom was in shorts and a tight shirt with her belly hanging out a bit. My dad was wearing old jeans and a pink shirt. I was wearing big baggy pants and sandals. Haha, they knew the second we stepped through the door that we'd never be able to afford any of the houses. Only three models were built, but they were huge. I kid you not when I say the master bedroom walk-in closet was barely smaller than my room. The homes were beautiful, though. One was my favorite. You walked in, and on your left was a little study, to your right was a curving staircase, and straight ahead were the french doors that led to the courtyard. Downstairs there was a bar, a kitchen, a wine room, a formal dining room, and the study. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a laundry room. The upstairs opened to a little upstairs patio, complete with outdoor fireplace! And next to that was another room. There was a room that was seperate from the house downstairs, and below that was a wine cellar. The backyard had a pool and a huge chessboard. How kickass is that?

The entire neighborhood is enclosed on a private golf course. The streets were cobblestone, the streetlamps were antique-style. The biggest floorplan (which they didn't have a model of) had five bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, a library, 3 car garage. Can you imagine?? Fucking crazy.

So...we spent the rest of the day looking at houses. Actually, we just drove through the neighborhoods. They're all just being built...some were monsterously huge, some were ugly and small, but all were expensive.

Came home...decided I"m not going to cross country. I just haven't been feeling well lately, headaches, achy body, dehydrated. Tomorrow they're going up to Red Rock (about a 45 min drive) to do a 6 mile course and I'm just not up to it. However, I was hoping to go out tonight, since I'll be able to sleep in tomorrow. I called up Joe, we chit-chatted, his phone died. He couldn't go out anyway *sigh* Which is a bummer because I'm in a very....*good* mood. *wink wink hint hint nudge nudge*. The kind of mood where you want to *ahem* give and recieve happiness. Do I have to spell this out for you!?

I downloaded a ton of songs today...both of Poe's albums. Went and found out her tour info. You will not believe my luck...she comes to Vegas the day after I leave for Boston. August 8, at The Joint. If you're in Vegas go see her for me. :( Ahh well, isn't it just the luck? Pixie

Dance Dance Revolution


Yeah...so I was sick earlier, haha. That all dissapeared when my brother came home. He brought a present with him. DDR. Dance Dance Revolution. I'm sure you've seen it before. In arcades...big screens, loud music, people jumping around on arrows. And you scoff, because you're a dancer and you say to your dancer friend how lame. But then your brother brings it home, and you're excited because you've heard him talk about how addictive it is, but you try to act too cool for it. But you can't trick it, because it knows that you'll never be cool enough. So...you saunter into your brother's room, you watch him, it seems a tad bit tricky. You try to play. The first level is simple, you're thinking to yourself how you kick ass. Then you go to the second level, it's...a challenge. But you still think you're the shit, so you go to the next level. Where your ass is kicked. You go back to the second level for a little while.

It's soo much fun. I know, I sound lame, but it is. I just played for like, two hours. Now I know why my brother walks into our house at 3 in the morning after being at someoen's house with this game. Now I know why his friend had to replace his little pad after a week from dancing so much. Now I know why people get addicted. Well...needless to say, I know how I'll be spending my days. I will kick ass. And then I'll go to the arcades (I wonder where they stick arcades in places outside of Vegas. No, really. Where are the arcades in your town? See, here they put them in the casinos. Right in between the movie theater and the Kid's Quest, where you can drop off the younger kiddos. See the strategic planning here? The whole family goes to the casinos, the younger kiddos go to Kid's Quest, the older kiddo's get money for the arcades and movies, and the older people go off and gamble. But...if you don't have a casino, where do you put your movie theater? And where do you put your arcades?). So anyways, I'll go into the arcades, and look all timid and scared, ask some cocky asshole how to work the machine. And then I'll bust a move and kick ass. Oh yeah.

So anyone who has a playstation, I encourage you to go buy DDR. And get the Japanese version, my brother says that they have better music, and the words are on it so you can kareoke your heart out. I'm talking to you Danny (do you read my blog?). If you do, then go out and buy DDR. Because when you get your ass to Vegas I want you to be a dancin' fool so we can play DDR scarleteen style. Oh yeah. Whew. And I can sleep in tomorrow too :) Pixie