If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all

I must be a real bitch today, because despite my earlier blog, I still have more to complain about.  The savage thoughts permeating my mind and the curse words rolling off the tip of my tongue are akin to a burning fire that cannot be put out.  Tonight I went out for a lovely dinner at the Hidden Inn, in South Kortright.  This place used to be one of my favorite upstate restaurants.  From the very first time I went there (around the age of 10) up until I was 20, this place was a great spot to enjoy a quality family meal.  I remember going there once when I was deathly ill with a common cold and couldn't taste anything, and still managed to finish almost an entire entree of chicken parm because it was THAT good.  However, in the past year, they switched owners and revamped the interior along with the menu.  The atmosphere was nice, but whoever is in charge of that kitchen needs a serious intervention.  The appetizers were great (Caesar salad with whole anchovies, shaved cheese, and homemade croutons, a bowl of butternut squash soup topped with creme fraiche served in a sourdough bread bowl).  However the entrees, for lack of better terminology, sucked ass.  Firstly, the waitress listed at least three items that they were out of on the already small menu, which was a disappointment.  I ordered Thai fried rice with shrimp (I know what you're thinking "if it's not a Thai restaurant, don't order Thai), but I couldn't help myself.  The menu was small and I didn't feel like pork, beef, scallops, or trout tonight.  I even checked with the waitress to make sure that my meal didn't have cilantro in it (it is the bane of my existence).  My shrimp were over cooked, and the rice tasted like it had an entire lime chopped up and thrown in it... it was so sour and acidic I wanted to throw up.  Also, the menu had advertised my rice as having snow peas in it... there were none to be found; only large pieces of artfully chopped celery (Ive never had Thai food with celery in it before).  My dad's pork was dry, my mom's pumpkin risotto tasted creamy, but like nothingness, and my brother's prime rib was like rubber.  I almost died of laughter when my brother discovered the Halloween pumpkin by the entrance contained smarties and dumdums and said they were "probably to wash the taste of ass out of the customer's mouths."  I shared a creme brulee with my brother for dessert and it was probably one of the best I've ever had... but still didn't make up for my lackluster meal.  I sadly won't be going back to the Hidden Inn until they've changed hands again.  My stomach still hurts from what I'm convinced was the overabundance of acid in my meal... I probably have an ulcer now, jk (but it certainly does feel that way).

A couple of years ago, a friend told me about lookbook.nu, since we're both into clothes and style and shit.  I checked it out, and back then, I thought it was pretty nifty:  people uploading pictures of their outfits around the world.  I only check lookbook out once a month or so these days, but I've noticed that all of the girls and guys posting pictures of their "fashionable" ensembles, all look exactly the same.  How are you a trend setter when your outfit is almost identical to everyone else's?  Basically, it boils down to a bunch of hipster-trash, flaunting their "We're so different, we're all the same" ensembles for one another.  I'm pretty sure at this point in time, the site is more about "look at me, I'm so thin and hot," then "look at me, my outfit is stylish and put together."  

Typical girl's outfit:  

1.  Oversize, button up, mesh/lace shirt worn over bra (who's a sexy bitch?  You's a sexy bitch!)
2.  Bloomer-look short shorts, or pleated skirt worn high on waist
3.  skinny belt
4.  Porkpie hat
5.  Knee-highs
6.  Jeffrey Campbell 'Lita' booties

OR....

1.  Skinny jeans/disco pant leggings (the second skin type with a high waist and frontal, exposed zipper)
2.  Cropped sweater
3.  oversize scarf
4.  nerd glasses
5.  Platform booties

Cool enough for lookbook?  

This ensemble brought to you by Hipster-trash R' Us

You know you have violent tendencies when...

\You dream about punching people in your sleep.


Thursday, while pumping gas on my way to work, a lady bug landed on me, which is a sign of fortune and good luck.  I ended up having a $600 day at the Shiseido counter (which is awesome for such a small counter) and I received a handful of compliments from customers... which always boosts my self esteem (However, if I hear one more person say I look like a mannequin I might punch someone... because that is an effing lie).  My good fortune continued through Friday, when I found out I got the job I had interviewed for Wednesday, so I will soon be starting as the Manager in Training at Hollister!  I know it's nothing terribly prestigious, but it's a full time job that pays well, and has benefits (health insurance, 401K) and opportunity for career growth (not that I want to work retail as a career, but I can always transfer to another store in the city if need be).  I'm just excited because I can save up even more money before moving to the city to find a theatre job (in costuming)!  I was having a fantastic day up until that point, when things took a turn for the worst in the form of rude customers.

I'm not sure what it is with the Holiday season, but the shoppers start to mutate into rabid, volatile consumers, filled with greed, impatient tendencies, and bitch face.  First, I encountered this customer I had helped before.  The first time I helped her, was an hour before closing on a Thursday night about a month ago.  She came into Macehole's at about 9:00 pm and proceeded to try on 12 (not an exaggeration) Elizabeth Arden lipsticks, which I didn't even sanitize for her, because she just kept picking them up like a machine.  She was super annoying, and kept asking me if I thought they looked good on her. 'Bitch, do you have eyes?!'  I think deep down we know when something does, and does not look good on us.  She asked me what color I was wearing, and wanted to try it on.  So I showed her.  It was a deep pink shade, and she kept raving about how good it looked on me.  I told her she had lighter hair and skin so it would probably look good on her as well, as most pinks look good on people with light coloring.  She tried it on and stared at herself in the mirror for like 3 minutes, puckering her lips and reapplying it (I think she has cosmetic OCD).  She was then like, "Are you sure that's the color you have on?  It looks different on me."  "Yes, Ma'am, this is the color that I have on right now." "Hmm, it just (puckers lips into mirror) ... looks so different on me... do you like it?  Do you think it looks good?"...

She then proceeded to do this same stint with 10 other lip colors.  I was becoming thoroughly annoyed.  Especially since she kept staring at me and raving about my lip color. I hate nothing more than someone dissecting my face with their eyes for a prolonged period, it makes me feel so uncomfortable.  Finally she left, having bought nothing and left me with a mess of used tissues, lipsticks that needed sanitized and little patience remaining.

Anyhow, Friday afternoon this customer came back.  She looked like Hagrid (from Harry Potter) as she was wearing a long, fur coat, and she's a tall lady with a big frame.  The cosmetics area was fairly busy that day, and so we were all helping customers at counters other than our own (which is what you do out of courtesy if someone is swamped at their counter).  She was at Clarins, and the girl who works at Clarins was busy with another customer in the process of getting a makeover, so I went to ask her if she needed help.  Instead of answering the question I'd asked, she stared at me, and said "I know you!  You've helped me before.  Is that the same color lipstick you had on last time?"  I replied, "yes, it is."  And then the girl who works the Clarin's counter came over to help her, so I walked away.

Apparently the woman, who I will call 'Hagrid,' from this point forth, made a 'WTF' face at the girl who works at the adjacent Lancome counter, and then turned to another customer and said I was "awfully rude to her."  And to that I say, WTF?!  I have never been rude to a customer in my life, even when they were a cunt to me, I have held my tongue until they walked away.  I cannot believe someone called me rude!  I'm only rude to my family! The audacity of that bitch!  She then went on to try on every cream, cosmetic, and lotion at the Clarins counter, all while staring at herself in the mirror, and walked away about 45 minutes later, having bought (you guessed it) NOTHING.

I was shocked with horror when the lady who works at Estee Lauder said that Hagrid had called me rude.  Apparently she told the Estee Lauder lady she had complimented my lipstick and I didn't even say thank you.  She was rude in that instead of answering my question, "Can I help you find anything today?," she said "Are you wearing the same color lipstick you were last time?"  1) That's a question, not a compliment and does not warrant a 'thank you.'  2) I answered her question with a 'yes' reply 3) The girl who works that counter was freed up and came over to further assist her, so I went back to my own counter, as is protocol.

Sadly, she was not the only rude customer I encountered that day.  Later on, Clinique counter was especially busy and as there was only one person working there that day, I went over to help some waiting customers.  There were four women, in pairs of two.  I helped the person who was there first, first.  And While I located the product she wanted, I asked the other waiting person, what I could get for her.  She told me she wanted the moisture surge night cream.  I had to ask the lady who works at the Clinique counter where to find the cream, and once I had, I told the customer I would ring her out just as soon as I had rung out the previous customer (who once again to reiterate, was there first).  Apparently she thought I wasn't helping her fast enough, or thought she was entitled to priority over the other customer and got all pissy.  "I'll get it somewhere else!" she practically screamed, and stormed off.

WTF.  Why are people so rude?  NEVER in my life have I been rude to a store associate who was helping me.  And it wasn't just me being overly sensitive, because when I was done ringing out the shoppers at clinique, I walked back over to my counter and the girl who works at Clarins was like "I saw that.  What was that about?" in reference to the angry customer.  I was like, "apparently she thought I should help her before the other lady, even though she was second in line."  Bitches are so rude and disrespectful.  Have they never worked a retail job before?  Obviously not.

Other things that piss me off working at the cosmetic counter:  when people tap on the glass while I'm bent down getting out a product.  It makes me feel like a lizard in a terrarium must when dumb cunts tap on their glass.  Excuse me, I'm getting what you asked for momentarily, there is absolutely no need for you to tap on the glass motioning to the product you have already verbally asked me to get you.  FUCKING RUDE.  I also hate customers who don't use 'please' and 'thank yous' and speak in harsh, abrupt answers.  I hate customers who say "I want this" while pointing to a product before I've even finished asking them 'what can I help you with?'  These customers were clearly never taught manners, or never received spankings or firm talking-tos from their parents when they were rude little pigs as children.  I will bring my children up to be the most respectful, polite kids ever some day as a result of seeing grown adults who never learned manners.

My terrible day was made slightly better when I helped a woman and her daughter at the Shiseido counter later that evening.  She told me I was "the nicest person she had ever had help her in the cosmetics section."  I said, 'that's funny, and I very much appreciate that because just today someone called me rude and I don't even know why."  hahaha.  She told me I was a sweetheart and they must have been having a bad day.  I genuinely thanked her for this compliment, and it slightly mended my bruised ego.  However, later that night, I dreamed I punched this kid from high school that I was once good friends with repeatedly.  I think it might be because i went to bed still feeling angry from the day's events.  

Now that I've gone off on a tangent on rude customers, I'd like to list some other things that piss me off (it's good to get it all out, even if it's only in a blog that no one will read):

1.  People posting food pictures on facebook.  I've done that once, and I feel bad about it to this day.  No one give's a fuck what you're eating.  No one really gives a fuck about what you've cooked, unless it's a goddamn culinary masterpiece, served artfully.  Do bitches think they're good cooks because they can make meatloaf or pasta with veggies thrown in?  I see these pictures and I want to slap a ho.  Sure, people can be proud of what they've cooked, especially if they're novices in the kitchen, or normally can't cook for shit.  But do you really need to snap a pic of every meal and post it for the world to see?  You're sloppily plated frozen corn, fried chicken cutlet, and side of rice-a-roni isn't impressing anyone.

2.  Stupid scene kids and 'hipsters' posting photos of themselves blowing out smoke from a cigarette/hooka/cigar/joint.  You look so cool... you're probably the first person who's ever blown smoke sexily out of your mouth! You're so innovative and creative for artistically photographing smoke coming out of your facial orifice!  You should get an award.  retarded.  Especially when you don't smoke and you're doing it for the purpose of a photo that will get about 80 'likes' from other dumb hipsters.

I think that's it.  I need to go take a bath to calm my frazzled nerves now.

Happy Slutoween!

Another halloween has come and gone.  I'm sitting here watching "Hocus Pocus" on ABC Family because I have nothing better to do, and once again I slaved away over a costume I never ended up wearing out (Fuck going out in a snow storm dressed in a tutu and heels....that was not going to happen).  I'm not even sure why I bother making costumes for Halloween anymore.  The last time I actually went out for Halloween was fall of 2009 when I was a Victoria's Secret Angel (what a joke, Ha!).  That was the only Halloween in my life where I thought I would capitalize on dressing slutty, and to be honest, my costume was pretty classy.  I wore high waisted underwear... my belly button wasn't even exposed.  I mean shit, a bra and underwear cover just as much as any bikini does!  I had a silk robe over my underwear, and wings I'd made myself (they later got stolen after I was forced to take them off and leave them outside of a crowded bar).  It would be just my luck that the one and only time I went out dressed like a slut, I was met with nasty remarks from bitches dressed even sluttier than myself... In retrospect, they were obviously just jealz.  Some bitch called me a 'slut,' (at that point I still had my V-card so her remark was pretty humorous, because she looked like the town bicycle), and my guy friend threatened to hit her so we were forced to leave the bar before further altercations could ensue.  I went out the next night after a party I had planned to attend was cancelled.  The girl I went out with wasn't really a close friend and she later ditched me at Sake Club to hunt down some guy she had a crush on.  I was alone and distressed when finally I found her again.  At that point she became ill so we had to make a trip to the ladies room, and then she scrawled on the bathroom door in a sharpie that "John Doe is a douche!" because apparently he left her alone for some other girl he was pursuing that night.   I wonder if I would still find her bathroom graffiti there today... :p  Last Halloween, I'd constructed a sick Little Red Riding Hood costume, but didn't end up wearing it out because my bf wasn't legal yet.  I did end up wearing that one to my birthday party this year, so at least I got some use out of it. haha.  This year, I was originally going to be a character from a cartoon show called The Venture Brothers; a Russian spy by the  name 'Molotov Cocktease.'  I mean, the similarities were uncanny.  She had red hair, I have red hair...she was a crazy bitch, I'm a crazy bitch... I love tight clothes, she loves tight clothes...

And yes, I have a flesh-colored leotard under this... not that it would matter If I didn't, because I've seen far more risque costumes.  

 But then a couple of weeks ago, I decided I wanted to be the Black Swan, because it would be fun, and a little less revealing. I made a costume, and even painted my face twice for a test run.  Alas, I did not go out this weekend due to the impromptu snowstorm.

I'm pretty happy I am not going out tonight however.  I probably gained 10 lbs this weekend between Jin, Crif Dogs, Rice Crispy Treats, and other unhealthy shit.  I am slightly sad however, that I won't get to see the abundance of truly, sloppy hos skanking it up in fishnets and booty shorts in 30 degree weather.  I hope they all get frostbite wear the sun don't shine for being so slutty and distasteful. hahahahaha.  JK.  I'd be slutty and distasteful too, if I had a safe, warm, house party to attend, and didn't have to step outside in next to nothing.  I'm sure a lot of girls will be sticking with the classics tonight... slutty animals, cowgirls, candy bars, the shit that teenage dreams are made of (and girls who lack creative minds can find on every halloween store shelf).  Feeling inspired after watching the Oh-so-ridiculous Sandra Lee Halloween special (I'm a Food Network junkie, if you didn't already know), I was inspired to play dress up.  Here are my takes on the Slutoween classics:

Slutty Fairy.  I made these wings myself, about six years ago, using wire coat hangers, and pantyhose... they are sick.

Slutty Cop... every sorority girl's fave. 

Playboy Bunny.  It really doesn't get much more classic than this!  Can you believe they sold this get-up at Claire's?!  A store for little girls for Christ's sake....  When I have kids (many years from now), they will dress like princesses or food items until they are 18.  

And of course... some slutty variation of Daisy Duke.  (Daisy Duke, white trash, MaryAnne from Gilligan's Island, a cowgirl... they're all the same).  

In other news, my sweet kittens are going in for surgery (spaying and neutering).  They're getting so big... probably because they get a full, English breakfast every day and multiple snacks when I'm not working ;p   I even made them an omelet for Breakie the other day.  I'm turning into a cat lady, I swear. haha.  Anyhoo, Bijou will slowly be transitioned inside our home after the operation on Thursday, since he loves affection and lets me pick him up and cuddle him.  Potpie is still very shy and has yet to let me touch her.  Maybe her surgery will make her more friendly, but she will either return home and continue to be an outdoor cat (with an elaborate shelter and twice daily meals) or perhaps we can find a loving home with no dogs for her to live in.  

Bijou as Bee Ji Herman...hahahaha.  He loves his basket! My sweet little gay boy ;p

And Potpie, looking regal on the rocks. haha.  She has such a cute face.  I just wish she'd let me pet her! How she does not get jealous when she sees me cuddling her brother I will never know.  

People who should be slapped

I'm sure I piss a lot of people off with a lot of things.  I constantly critique myself and others, I make weird noises and talk in strange voices/dialects, I constantly fix my hair, I bite my nails, I crack my knuckles, I like to wear one too many layers of mascara, and many more things.  However, there are certain types of people who really make me want to smack them when I see them.  Working in a mall at a cosmetic counter, one witnesses an abundance of people walk by on a daily basis.  Out of the hundreds of people I see going by every day, I'd say I want to smack at least 20 or so.

1.  Parents/caretakers who push grown kids around in strollers.  I'm sorry, but a perfectly capable five or six year old knows how to walk, and needs exercise.  I understand pushing 3 and maybe even 4 year olds around because it's easier than keeping an eye on them while you shop around, but a 7 year old?!  You've got to be kidding.  If your kid is physically able, and does not have existing, impediment mental health issues, why isn't that child up on his feet?  You're just setting him/her up to be a lazy, potentially obese, and totally annoying adult.  You can't push that lil' f*cker around forever.  He/she will grow up to be overly dependent on you to wipe their ass for life... you'll end up doing their laundry until they turn 45, and they will always get talked about behind their backs by friends. What a disservice.

2.  Tweens who have never been taught right from wrong and act like little fuckwits as a result of mommy/daddy's lack of proper upbringing.  I'm not sure what's wrong with the majority of 11-15 year olds today, but clearly their parents never taught them manners or how to conduct themselves in public.  So many of them act the fool in the mall, wandering around like hooligans in unsupervised groups.  I'm sorry, if you're old enough to be alone with friends in a mall, you're also old enough to know how to act.  I see these little punks climb on automated kiddie rides in groups of 3-4 to have their friends snap pics.  You're not cute, and your grown ass is exceeding the weight limit for a toy that is intended for a single, 4 year old to ride. I can only hope these kids have retail jobs someday and have to pick up the store/merchandise after a group of unruly 12 year olds try shit on, take mirror pics, and then discard said merchandise onto the floor.  On a different note, if your child is mentally unstable enough to sit at a makeup counter and smear lipstick all around her mouth, and I notice she has crayola paints plastered ALL over her face, it's probs not a good idea to let her ride her bike alone to the mall.

3.  Ghetto men who hit on me, while I'm trying to do my job, and make me feel uncomfortable in front of co-workers.  Yes, it's flattering, but it's more annoying than anything.  Most of them are drug dealers, I'm convinced (they have grills and wear more bling and FUBU than any guy should).  Does it look like I want to talk to you?  Do you hear me speaking in sentences that would further promote the conversation you're trying to start? NO... so get the fuck away from me.  I don't like to be sexually harassed on the job.  Yes, my shoes are hot... jealous?  Jesus Christ.  One day I had some guy ask me if my leggings were "painted on" while I walked back from my lunch break.  Dumb fuck.  They're called leggings for a fucking reason, they're thick tights that hug your body; besides, my ass was completely covered by a dress over top of said leggings.  I've had one guy, who must be extremely high every time I've seen him, repeatedly ask me out, despite the fact I told him I had a boyfriend.  I would think it would be humiliating to ask someone out multiple times, only to be turned down, and keep coming back for more.  Must be he's too high to remember.

4.  Girls wearing totally inappropriate clothing for the time of day and time of year.  I don't care how tiny your long, 14 year old legs are.  I don't care how toned your 23 year old, tanned legs are.  You DO NOT wear a body-con, mini during the day in October.  Especially not with heels.  Are you going to have a drink and try to score at the mall?  Didn't think so.  There is a time and a place for everything.  Lord knows I love me some body-con minis and tight dresses... but they are worn at night, and with tights when the weather gets cold.  I get stared at enough just wearing pants, I can't imagine the kind of negative attention wearing that shit in a mall would get you.  I feel so grossed out when I see dirty old men do double takes to stare at the asses of 13 year old girls walking by.  Sigh.  If they only knew who was looking perhaps they would wear something a bit more appropriate.  And just to reiterate, I am a feminist who totally believes that a girl SHOULD ideally be able to wear whatever she wants without eliciting cat calls and getting harassed, but like I said, certain clothing really is only appropriate for 'going out' purposes.

5.  Moms that try to look as young as their 16 year old daughters.  Let me start off by saying, I'm all for being a stylish, trendy, and youthful looking mother.  I hope to be stylish many years from now when I have a kid of my own (granted I'll probs be like 35).  However, I feel that there is such thing as dressing for your age.  I'm not saying that once you reach 35/40 you should be uber conservative or boring.  Far from it in fact.  By then hopefully you have acquired enough tastes and resources to splurge on trendy clothes for yourself.  I'm just trying to say that no mom should dress like a teeny bopper.  You'd be surprised how many times I thought a girl/boy was shopping with their best friend/girlfriend, and as the pair approached, could tell by the face that one party of the shopping duo, was in fact, a parent.  I don't know why it's fashionable to bleach your hair, tan your leathery skin, and wear pants so low riding I can see your cesarean scar and nasty 90s tramp stamp, when you are a mom shopping with your 15 year old.  You're tits are pushed up like a high school sophomore who just discovered Victoria's Secret bombshell bra, but the thing is, they have age spots, and are leathered from years of laying under UV light.  Gross, gross, and gross.  The other day when it was particularly warm for October, I actually saw a mother with her 4 children shopping in the men's department.  Girlfriend had a sick body, and was ultra tiny... but who the fuck in their right mind wears a belly shirt unless they're vacationing somewhere tropical, or hanging out in the summer?  Yeah, that's right.  This woman was wearing a belly shirt... the kind that ends a couple inches above the navel.  I saw her trashy belly ring and her trashy tramp stamp.  I mean, I'd probably want to show off my stomach too if I'd pushed out for kids and it was still that flat.  But in a fucking department store?  I don't think so.  She looked like the kind of WT epitomized by Sarah Jessica Parker in that Lifetime movie, "In the best Interest of the Children" (if you've never seen it and you're a girl, omg, you have to watch). lol

4.  People with obnoxious plastic surgery.  I'm all for plastic surgery if it can enhance what you have, give you something you weren't born with, make your self-esteem increase, or correct features that were disfigured in an accident.  However, people with fake DDD cups who neglected to also plump up their flat buns were seriously misguided.  Just because your tits are huge doesn't make you hot, honey.  You look like you're going to topple over since there is nothing going on behind to even that front load out.  One night, I saw what I thought was a girlfriend and boyfriend shopping for perfume together.  The girl was dressed in pink, Juicy, booty shorts, and a tight, pink T-shirt.  She was extremely thin, with no buns, and bleached hair.  I thought it was a gangly teenager.  Until she turned around.  OMG.  The biggest, fakest tatas I'd ever seen.  And that face was NOT 16.  That was the face of rode hard, put away wet stripper.  It was the boy's mom.  She had inflated, duck lips to go along with the inflated tits.  I'm sorry, everything within reason.  I mean, If I were completely flat, I might desire breast implants myself.  But when you go over the top, you look like a joke.  The other day, I saw a different woman shopping for perfume.  She was built like a snooki/troll, and had that nasty, white-blonde hair (that only looks good on people who are born with it, like Swedes, and Albinos).  When she turned around, I thought I was looking into the face of a duck billed platypus.  YIKES.  Why would you do that to yourself?  I completely understand that people suffer from body dysmorphic disorder, but you'd think someone would intervene.

5.  Pervy, old men.  I had two drunk guys come up to me once and request about a billion cologne samples.  I could tell they were drunk because of the alcohol fumes being emitted into the air around them, their red faces, and the way that they kept saying they were brothers and "not gay" when hugging each other and joking about how good they smelled.  While I checked them out the lustily stared me up and down, making me feel gross and wanting to bolt.  One of them asked if I was single (which always pisses me off after I hear a man talking about/mentioning his wife beforehand), I said no.  The other guy practically bellowed "you think a girl with a body as tight as that is going to be single?" Eeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. So gross. It's always disturbing when you're dressed totally work appropriate (that is to say, not wearing super tight, short, or low cut clothing) and some older man walks by and leers at you in an aggressive, overtly sexual manner.  This happened last week, and when that same guy walked back through the cosmetic counters about 45 minutes after he'd initially walked past, he gave me the same look, and said with "I like your lipstick baby."  Baby?  WHO THE FUCK are you calling baby you fucking creep.  Ugh. I'm just as offended when I see men looking at other women like this, especially young girls.  Sure there are a lot of little girls dressing inappropriately today, but the men who leer at them are disgusting.  One time I saw what I thought was a young hipster skateboarding through Williamsburg, his tight jeans and lean body drew me in.  As I grew closer and realized I had been ogling a 15 year old boy, I felt disgusting and pervy despite the fact that I was only like 20 at the time.  How can someone be so blatant in staring at what are clearly very under-age girls and be o.k. with it?  Fucking gross.


I'm sure there are many more people I'm failing to mention here.  But these types really make me want to slap a bitch/bastard.

Nothing Starts the day off right like morning anxiety

Where is my life going?  OMG.  I have to be done fucking around at Macehole's.  I'm going no where.  Someone with two degrees, talent, and charm (JK) shouldn't be wasting their precious youth working part time at a Goddamn retail store in Binghamton, NY.  I have aspirations, I have money to make, I have a life to live, and it's not happening right now.  Tomorrow I will begin a full frontal assault on the job market.  I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE.  What was supposed to be a temp. summer job has moved into October.  I live at home for God's sake... do you know what that's like?!  I know a lot of people have to do it upon graduating and transitioning... but I'm done.  I'd rather live in a shitty apartment where I struggle to pay my bills and have to deal with a scum landlord, than live in this town another two months.  Surely someone will hire me.... right? I just want a full time job that pays bills and is slightly more tolerable than my current one... something a little less mundane, something that requires a bit more creativity and mind-power.  Sigh.  I have 8 hours of work today, so tomorrow morning on my day off, I will begin the feverish job search towards salvation.  I plan on applying to at least 10 places.

This past weekend my BF came to visit and I enjoyed two days of heaven on earth, and forgot about the sad reality that is my current existence for a while.  I haven't worked on my book in a while now, but I am on page 56 (single spaced) and will start work on it again this weekend.  As previously stated, the book I'm writing is based on 8 years worth of journal entries spanning from about age 13 to 21.  I'll throw in a little teaser for you bitches actually reading my crap blog:

7/26/01

I had dance tonight from 6:15-8:45.  I was very tired, but only temporarily, and now I can't sleep.  I feel really dumb keeping a journal, but oh well.  Right now it's 11:30 pm.  I hope I am moved up in a better ballet class, if I do well in summer dance.  Right now I am thinking about going on a diet... well, ok, I need a diet.  I am 5' 2" and a whopping 93 lbs.  My goal is to lose 5 lbs.  I hope 5'2" won't be my permanent height either.  I wish I could shrink my bones; I have a large ribcage and it makes me look fat.  I think I have skin cancer even though I'm only 13.  

....... and here's a little more from waaaayyy later on (ps... this was the first entry I wrote, they get MUCH more exciting and ridiculous as the months and years progress, haha):

9/15/2007

I am always losing some sort of fighting battle.  I had to spend $85 on a pair of jeans yesterday that make me look fatter than I already am.  They're size 28... WAIST SIZE 28.  MY WAIST IS FUCKING 24 INCHES, but because my ass is sooo huge (along with my thighs) I couldn't fit in any lower sizes.  Pathetic.  I was forced to by these expensive jeans by my domineering roommate, Katie, because she works at Bloomingdales in SoHo, and had a "super" discount she's been raving to me about for the past 6 months I've known her.  Well, you know what Katie?  Unlike you, I don't get $300 spending money from my parents every week.  I don't care if the jeans were originally $220 before the discount, $85 jeans still aren't in my budget.  Furthermore, I had to spend $25 on cab fare because I was running late and got lost, and then $20 on a subway card back, because I had no smaller bills and the fucking machine wouldn't take my debit.  In addition to this, Katie requested that I make dinner (and I thought I would, because I love cooking, and because she constantly picks up shit for me like $12 jars of Nutella, even though I tell her explicitly not to do so).  So, I went out of my way to make her stirfry.... I rushed home from Williamsburg where I helped my sister carry heavy-ass carpets for her new living room (through town, down subways, all over NYC, until I was sweating like the pig I am).  Katie and I were supposed to go out to the movies last night, but she had to work late.  Tonight, she also came home late, and despite the fact I slaved away in our tiny kitchen to make her supper, that bitch decided to eat fucking honey nut cheerios.  Then her obnoxious friend, Ernest, came over, and while I laid in bed waiting to turn off the lights and sleep, the sat there shooting the shit about FUCKING FASHION until 1:30 am.  Oh, and earlier when I told my sister, Laura, the story of the 28 jeans and 24 waist, she proceeds to fucking try and manipulate the steel tape measure around my waist and tells me I'm "at least a 25."  Bitch, I have on THREE layers of clothing right now, and have period bloat... and that's a steel tape measure.  Then later on she was looking at me with that one look she gives when I know she's about to make a comment about the way I look, and she says, "You know Lily, Maybe you should try parting your hair on the side."  Bitch, I know exactly what you're thinking... I'm a balding donkey and my face is so ugly I can't pull off a middle part.  Well, I tried parting my hair on the side, FYI, and I look like even more of a balding donkey, due to my receeding hairline, giant fivehead, and my ugly face being even more exposed.  So, I finally go to bed with the intent of never getting up again and laying there until I dehydrate and die, when Laura calls me seriously 5 times in a row, with 3 texts thrown in for good measure.  christ. I had to drag my ass out of bed at like 12 am, to send a text letting her know, I was in fact, still alive.  I am still in my pj's as I write this, with no intention of ever eating again.  

This entry actually goes on for a couple more pages, but shit gets real serious and I'm not ready to share the serious bits until the book is in it's entirety.  I'd also like to throw out there that all names have been changed for privacy purposes (even though if you know me and my life, you'll most likely know who everyone is, despite the name changes).  I'd also like to throw out there that the entry I posted from FIT was a rough time in my life... I'm pretty sure I had body dysmorphia (which I partially grew out of). hahaha.  I'd also like to say, that the aforementioned jeans in the previous entry now hang on me and can be pulled off without unfastening the button or unzipping... and my eating habits are way healthier today than they were 4 years ago.  I'd also like to throw out there that I love my sister, and she always wants what's best for me... I'm just a highly emo, sensitive girl, and take everything someone says to me and find offense in it. lol.  Sigh, some things never change :p



Anyhow, back to reality.  Yesterday I made caramel, candy encrusted apples to send to my bf.  I made the caramel myself (using butter, brown sugar, condensed milk, and corn syrup) and had to sample numerous times to make sure it was good.  I also had to sample the nuts, chocolate/white chocolate/peanut butter chips I threw onto the coated apples.  In doing so, I will most likely suffer a severe acne breakout starting tomorrow.  I am going to be spending Halloween in the city this year, and found the perfect costume... perfect because it's super sexy (you know I like that), very individual ( no other sluts will be dressed like me), and the character is sooooo like me in many ways (vicious, teasing, seductive). lol.  I'm going to be Molotov Cocktease from "The Venture Brothers" :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMJ6Q-8jnzk


I already have the essential elements of the costume, and no, I probably won't have my bodysuit ripped open quite as wide as the character's, because I don't want any nip-slips.  But I am very excited :D

Falling Leaves... so depressing, so beautiful

It's a weird realization when everyone has gone back to school and you haven't, when each fall has marked the start of a new school year for 17 years of your life.  I mean, I didn't want to go to grad school, but now I'm having second thoughts.  Yes, I'm still working at my shitty job, yes I still hate every last second I spend there.  Yes, I'm currently searching for jobs in the city, but it's difficult to do online, and on your days off when you have a hundred other things that need taken care of.  And Yes, I miss my boyfriend terribly (but hey, at least I'm not announcing it on FB like those other dumb bitches).

I had a weird rash on my hip when I woke up Sunday.  I thought perhaps it was a bugbite, but it began to spread up my side and onto my leg.  Being the hypochondriac that I am, I googled that shit immediately to see what it could possibly be:

1.  Bed Bugs... I thought to myself "if it is I'll die"

2.  Flea Bites... "If it is I'm a serious skank and will never touch another feral cat so long as I live"

3.  Worms.... "I'm never touching another feral cat, or letting my dog drink from my coffee cup again"

4.  Poison Oak/ Poison Ivy... "But I haven't had any naked romps in the woods recently!"

5.  Contact Dermatitis .... "I learned my lesson LAST TIME I used a new scented lotion"

6.  Flesh Eating Bacteria.... "I'm fucked."

After three days of serious freaking out, I went to the Doctor's.  He didn't know what the rash was, and said he'd never seen anything like it (great). I was slightly relieved when he ruled out bug bites.  He prescribed a super duper hydrocortisone cream, but nothing else (I was hoping he'd give me some antibiotics, just to be safe- luckily I keep a stash at home for instanced like these :D ), and he said to come back if it spread more or wasn't gone within a week.  At the last minute I recalled a little jaunt up a wooded embankment through the cemetery I had taken the Friday before the rash.  Ah ha!  The doctor decided I had probably rubbed up against a nasty plant and had some sort of allergic reaction.  Well, that's not really a good enough answer for a control freak, and I still needed to know specifically what my rash was and what had caused it.  Naturally, the fact that they "all knowing/fix anything" doctor didn't know EXACTLY what my rash was REALLY freaked me out, so upon returning home that night after a long, hard day at Macehole's, I got back on the internet to research (this is always a mistake because one starts believing they are going to die... For a while I had convinced myself I had Toxic Shock Syndrome).  I almost died when I took a bath and saw spots on my precious ass.  I'm not ashamed to admit I cried, and pleaded with the gods above that "I will never, ever again degrade or not appreciate what I've been given in life or what genetics I've been dealt, if you make these spots go away!"   God does exist, because when I woke up today, the spots were gone, and there was just a small hint of the original rash on my hip, which is clearly fading now.  I've learned to appreciate my health over the years every time I got sick and felt like complete shit, or saw someone in a wheelchair, or with a serious condition, but I guess I never really appreciated the health of my skin until now.   I will never take for granted the fact I live a life free of eczema, shingles, cystic acne, scars, or other things.

I thought I had escaped seeing hoards of stupid SUNY sluts when I graduated SUNY Oneonta, but working at a makeup counter in Macehole's, one sees many, many misinformed young women pass by on a daily basis.  The look is still the same:  Hair is bleached blonde, or dyed that really dark, almost-black brunette (do they have parties where they dye each other's hair?).   Skin:  Tanning-bed orange, with lots and lots of bronzer.  Eye Make Up:  Maximum eyeliner.  Other Make Up:  None of which to speak (it's all in the eyes baby).  Clothing:  Leggings, SUNY sweatshirt or Northface Jacket, Uggs, or leather riding boots.  Sigh.  I can't knock these girls too hard, because these seem to be the type of girls guys find really hot (though maybe that's because they're just dumb sluts).  But it really made me think about things.  I mean, at FIT, there were no sororities of which to speak, but when I transferred to Oneonta, there were a ton.  I never once got an invite to pledge.  Maybe I wasn't hot enough?  I don't know, but today (on my first day off in 6 days), I decided to see what I would look like as a stupid SUNY slut.  While I was doing laundry, I played around with some bronzer and eyeliner, and found my Tiffany & Co. Jewelry at the bottom of my accessory basket.  I straightened my hair and did that homely little center puff pull back that all of those girls seem to find cute.  I didn't have the desire to dye my hair black or blonde, so sadly I had to leave it red.  Here is the result:

*Sigh*  Not very convincing. LOL.... I must say that wearing that much makeup makes one sweat furiously!  I felt like a new baby when I washed it off my face.  

I don't really know what my fascination with this type of girl is... maybe I'm just jealous.  Maybe I'm resentful of all of the years I spent living a celibate, lonely life because the frat-boy type never went after me because I didn't fit the mould.  Maybe I felt inferior because this was the girl getting drunk and hit on with her ass cheeks hanging out in the middle of January, while I sat at the bar in my jeans with not a single bite from anyone.  The world will never really know, but for now, I will continue to hate on this type of girl and consider her a dumb ho for being such a conformist with such bad taste (Tiffany charms are soooo 2002).  

I think this will be an awesome weekend, mainly because I am not scheduled to work for once in my life.  I am going out tomorrow with a long lost friend, and a good friend who is still in school (and loves to hate on the type of girl seen above with me... that's what really brought us together in the first place I think :p ).   I can't wait!  Furthermore, my sister and brother-in-law are coming home for the weekend and we have the annual family picnic at my uncle and aunt's cottage Saturday (yes, all 8 of our family members will be in attendance... my family is SO small).  Oh well, it's an excuse to drink Sag (a delicious rum punch) and gain 10 lbs. from devouring my aunt's cheese tray, my dad's baked beans, and countless grilled sausages.  Sunday I have plans to make some homemade 'Mrs. Prindable's" apples (If you've never experienced a Prindable apple, you're missing out:  

http://www.qvc.com/qsearch/search.aspx

And so any first time readers out there don't think that's what I actually look like, here's a pic of me being a white dumb slut (as opposed to a fake tanned one). 

Hey, I worked all summer for these abs and the only person who sees them is my bf, like once a frickin month.  I might as well start eating all the cheesburgers I want at this rate. 

And on a closing note, the feral cats I have been feeding for like a month now are reaching that age where we absolutely MUST capture them (they need spayed/neutered so as not to produce more babies without homes).  The one I call Bijou (he's my little gay boy), is a little piggy and has almost doubled in size.  He has the daintiest meow ever (hence his name and the fact I believe him to be gay).  The black kitten, named Pot Pie (my mom threw out pot pie scraps one Sunday and the kitten ate it), is a girl (I'm pretty sure) is still really skittish and won't come too close.  Bijou has let me pet him and I even picked him up one day (maybe that's why I have this rash), hence why I am really set on letting him inside the home (once he's been neutered, bathed, and had flea meds applied).  Hopefully Pot Pie can be adopted after we get her spayed, but if not she will continue to be an outdoor cat that we will continue to feed, water, and provide with an outdoor shelter (I made a ridiculous hut for these cats using a kennel, tarp, and blankets... hopefully I can provide something less ghetto if Pot Pie stays here).  There is also a mom cat that we want to bring into get spayed (if we can catch her in a live trap).  Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure:

Here's Bijou being a piggy as usual (see the way he licks his chops? lmao)... one day my mom gave him a full english breakfast and he ate it ALL (there was an over-easy egg, and a breakfast sausage... no lie, it was gone within 10 min).

And this is Pot Pie, afraid to eat while I snapped the picture, as her loving mom looks on. lmao.  I'm turning into a crazy cat lady. YIKES! 

Silver Foil

I had a most lovely weekend in the city before coming back on a busted bus, missing work, and then missing more work because Central New York was completely flooded.   A big shout out to my sister for letting me stay at her awesome apartment with my boyfriend; it was a fun and relaxing weekend.  The American Apparel test shoot was alright I guess; the photographer seemed really freaky-deaky and the studio was sketch to be honest.  But I guess you'll have that.  I purchased a new American Apparel outfit the night before (wednesday) when I got in, and they shot me in that and then had me change into some of their ugly ass 'mom' shorts (the high waisted, farmer-looking ones that make one's ass look flat and wide) and an ugly yellow t-shirt.  I had to wear minimal makeup (which is really hard to do, because I love mascara), and had to leave my hair completely natural... luckily I was having a good hair day.  The dude who shot the pictures said he would send them to his boss who would then give a final approval or email me back.  I have yet to hear back, but I honestly don't care.  It was an experience.  And I know my body is still way hotter than most of the chicks in their campaigns. hahaha (I swear I'm not conceited, I just know what is true and what is false in my old age- my BDD seems to be subsiding).  Here is what I wore:

    The shorts really weren't that flattering (in my opinion), but my sister is the style expert so I let her make the final decision on my outfit.  

My cheesy smile is so sexy, I know.  PS... if you get an AA leotard, it doesn't matter how tiny your waist is, they run so small and give you such a severe wedgie you will have to buy a size up.  SO UNCOMFORTABLE!

My boyfriend came into the city on Friday afternoon and we had an eventful weekend of eating out, going on many walks, doing the high line and Chelsea Market, and cooking together... and of course consuming copious amounts of wine.  

We took a leisurely stroll over the Williamsburg Bridge for some Jin sushi on Sunday evening.  The L-train wasn't running that day, so instead of walking back, we decided to take a different train which landed us in some deserted and very frightening area of brooklyn that looked like a scene from a Tim Burton Film.  I wish I had taken pics... it was so scary.

My bus broke down on the way home Monday afternoon.  We were stranded on the side of the road for 4 hours waiting for another bus to come.  I missed my shift at work and felt very guilty but whatever... I really hate my job and am feverishly searching for jobs in the city at the moment.  I really don't know how some of the people working there have been there for 5,10, 20 years.  I mean, props to them if they like it and feel fulfilled.  But this was supposed to be a 'summer' job, not a permanent career move.  I get soooo bored standing around waiting for a customer with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO OR PASS THE TIME.  I mean, there are only so many times I can clean the glass on the counters.  It's really true what the say:  "an idle mind is the Devil's workshop."  I think about things I really shouldn't think about and get terrible anxiety as I feel like I'm wasting time.  I start obsessing about shit I shouldn't obsess about, and get so frustrated.  I am really going to try to be out of that store by *hopefully* November.  Yikes.  

Due to the fact that there is some serious flooding all over New York state and PA, a lot of areas are under several feet of water, businesses have closed and been flooded out, and I have not had work for two days.  Yesterday, the rain finally stopped (even though the water levels were still rising), and so my brother and I decided to take several backroads and take a trip to our woods.  We couldn't travel the normal roads because they were all closed, washed out, flooded etc.  Thankfully, our father taught us every dirt/county/seasonal road known to man at a very young age, so we will definitely survive in the event of an apocalypse, and successfully made it to our land in West Bainbridge yesterday. haha.  I took some lovely pictures of the adventure: 

The Cabin my dad is building is almost done!  Can't wait to have a fall picnic/weekend camp-out!

My brother is currently obsessed with mushrooms.  I don't think he's ever studied any subject as rigorously in his young life.  

You know those puff balls that you stomp on and the dried spores come out?  Well, this is what happens this time of year when you puncture them; a bunch of vile, green slime spews out.  Sick.

"Kelsey, Kelsey!  Put me deeeown!" hahahaha

"MYSPACE!"

Dustin and I decided to rape an apple tree.

F.U.P.A full of apples.