freckles on her nose

I finally managed to track down some photos of my Halloween costume for y'all, after being too drunk to remember to take my camera out at all that night:





I was Pippi Longstocking in case you couldn't tell. The hairspray was supposed to be orange, but other than that I think I nailed it, especially considering the last-minuteness of it all. I bent a wire hanger over my head and braided my hair around it, rounding the ends of the wire to keep from poking eyes out on State St, and in spite of tons of people grabbing my braids, exclaiming hey! it's pippi!, they stayed in place all night until I passed out on my brothers floor. That extra hour was so well-spent.

My only wish for the night would've been to find anyone else who knew the original Pippi song and didn't break out into the crappy 80's one whenever they saw me. My voice was hoarse after a night of song-form corrections:



{p.s. that's my brother in the background of the first photo. he's wearing a garfield costume our stepmom made (out of car seat covers) when she went to UW Madison and did her own State St Halloween rioting, long before it was the bullshit ticketed event it has become today. aside from his allergic reaction to our nana's attic fumes, it fit him like a glove.}

Awarded!

Eep! I've never gotten one of these things before, but thank you, A. Turns out the eighth 'random' thing about me is that I'm not in a very positive mood on this beautiful morning:

1. i have a crazy sense of smell that gets me in nauseous situations at times. this, for some reason, does not apply to kid-related odors. i can take just about anything if it came from a kid. supernanny for a reason.

2. high school was a nightmare and i have such sleep terrors at least twice a week where i'm forced to go back for, say, three credits but then it becomes three years and i just don't wake up happy on those mornings.

3. i hate myself at least once a day for not going to college right away. i'm 23 and have three college credits because i didn't think i could support myself in chicago and go to school at the same time. i coulda.

4. i did something really stupid last night, possibly ruining side two of VU for myself for a long time to come. Andy's Chest is on that side!!

5. i went to one of the shittiest grade schools in the state of Wisconsin. i transfered myself to a better school my sophomore year of high school but i still felt really unsatisfied with the education i was offered. what i'm saying is that i'm not very book smart and have a big ol' chip on my shoulder because of it.

6. before yesterday, i hadn't been to a dentist in five or so years. now i need four wisdom teeth out at once. dangit.

7. bahh and i just started this squinting thing lately and, as cool as glasses look, i'm just not ready to deal with vision issues at this time.

See what I mean? Oh wells. Off to find that elusive second job, the process of which will undoubtedly result in a lot of bike riding, antique stores, city hall, the hardware store, too much coffee and anything other than Craigslist because this is the rural Wis, baby. Word of mouth only. Charming stuff. Have a good one, guys!


{found via Odd Job}

boom shaka-laka

When my step-mom told me that Father Tom had been charged with embezzlement within her church, I barely blinked an eye, but when I caught a glimpse of the ensuing garage sale, I did a cartoon-style double-take of the amount of bags the man had accumulated in all his years; it was impressive! And at a dollar a bag, no less! I only had three bucks on me, but the lady running the sale, impressed by the vigor with which I tore through the pile of treasures, gave me an extra on the house. (Not the first time I've gotten discounts based on my enthusiasm alone. It works if you work it, ladies.)

I ended up with a green tote from Ireland, a brown leather duffle from the eighties that is dying to be paired with a rainbow-striped shoulder strap, a canvas duffle with a sweet logo and something I've been trying to hunt-down for years:



Boom, bitch. So happy with this thing. It's not the exact one I've always wanted, but sates me for the time being. And it's just the thing to carry beer in when I tear up the streets of Madison tomorrow night dressed as....well, you'll see.

So thanks, Father Tom, though you have made it a new dream of mine to actually be a member of a 'beach club' instead of just owning the bag:



{p.s. with one obsession fulfilled, another inevitably arises.}

...making a chore for the reader who reads.

A million people have tweeted/facebooked a variation of the phrase "I can't decide who I want to be for Halloween" this week and I've come to the conclusion that so many of my problems revolve around this dilemma, but on the grandest of scales. I can't decide who I want to be in life. Who I should be. Who the best 'me' would be.

There a so many ways to be, which one is me? If that rhymed, it should. Because there are two people to blame for the conundrum of my lifetime: my mom and Dr Seuss. The mother in question doled out exactly one piece of advice that ever stuck, and it was something from a Seuss book: You're the best you.

That phrase can promptly eat shit and die over the turmoil it's caused. I'm never satisfied that I'm living my life the way I should be. The second I feel like I've found a niche, I worry that I'm somehow not being the best me so I should just stop what I'm doing and keep looking, but FOR WHAT and I just suck at life and heerre commees thhhe saaaaaddd.

I wish, more than anything, that I had a nice, resolving paragraph for this post. Something like I guess what I'm saying is...blahblah blah...but in the end I've always got...blah. But that's just not my reality and when have I ever sugar-coated stuff for you guys anyway? (Except for a minute ago when I edited out half of this entry. You'd thank me for it, if only you knew.)

hello, baby.

Ooh, my my my. I completely forgot about Isabella Rosellini's Green Porno series. And there are two more seasons since the last time I checked- Oh sweet, generous universe!



{p.s. dudes, don't watch these around your mom as I just did. yes, it will get her to stop bugging you about when you sniffled once, an hour ago, but it will raise entirely new questions that can't be matched in annoyance. aha, wait, you're a real adult who doesn't live at home? oh.}

wonder why they call you bitch.

Oh-ho booyyy, did I make my sister cry this morning. I've been working on my 'thinking out loud at the most inappropriate times' problem, but sometimes it still sneaks out. And sometimes you need to bake "sorry" cookies:




Now, I'm not one who likes to receive verbal apologies. No sir, I much prefer a simple handwritten note/card next to something that has been created in the spirit of atonement. Or, guh, flowers. Because who doesn't like these things? Plus, most people don't even know how to apologize; they often accompany the gesture with an excuse for their behavior. Which is not quite the point, I mean, if you were truly sorry for your behavior you should not excuse yourself at all, but rather accept that you apparently couldn't handle the exact situation properly THEREFORE your apology should be a vow to work on the very aspect of your inner being that made you do what you goddamn did.

Anyway.

I admit that this post was half an excuse to quote Tupac and half to pimp out this recipe.

{p.s. the best part about apology cookies is that, in the name of decency, they can't eat them if they don't forgive you. and who's going to turn down anything this girl's ever posted?}

An Incoherent Suz: The Only Ones

The Only Ones reek of possibly the most fun I've ever had at work. Wearing the shittiest jeans/zip-up hoodie combos, drug deals in front of store cameras, giggling at porn in the manager's office, writing pages of 'customer notes' ("BIG HANDS---->" reigns supreme), walls filled with vulgar works of art, INTERCOMS, watching Paul's tantrums on the monitors, beer runs, not to mention the minimal amount of actual work. Wow. Possibly the most directionless I've ever been, plus we bitched about the management constantly, but if I could go back for just a day...

Another Girl, Another Planet (...

Oh god, I just remembered the rats in the back alley! Sigh...memories. Also brings to mind this heartbeat of my early twenties (in which, I'm fully aware, I remain):



See it, love it, get the soundtrack. Done.