Ode to Dad.

It's my Dad's birthday today! I feel like he's such an elusive character in my life. Always there, never really seen or heard of though.




That's him with the beard and bow legs next to my dream car. Scion XD. Sometimes we go to car shows together and he figures out ways to get me to buy a brand new car. It's his thing. I don't mind it.

So this is my Ode to Dad.

....

Nevermind. I'm not in rhyming poetic mode.
But this is to my Dad --- You talk to me about money and cars. When you think about it, we're kind of like thugs. All of your clothes fit me and I'm okay with that. Just in case I ever need a sweet old polo or t-shirt from the 70's or 80's, I'll know where to find it. I think it's funny that after having Daisy put down you put her in the basement freezer (in a Giant Eagle bag, in a box) because the ground was too frozen solid to dig her a proper burial hole. And that you never told Mom. And that she only found out last week.. Meanwhile, it's been at least a month. And I think that it's funny when there is an attempt at a heart to heart between you and I and lines like "Well, I think you're an okay daughter," and "I'm sure you'd make good tips serving, I mean, you're not dumb looking, you know?" and "You could probably model. Just get on it because no one will want to work with you when you're old in a few years," come out.
I also really like it when you walk around the house wearing your motorcycle helmet and all we can see are your eyes. And when you ask me questions like "What's a dominatrix?"

So, to my Dad, Happy Birdday.

I've got more up my sleeve.

When I have more than 5 dazed minutes after waking up to update, I will.
I saw a lot of good things in the ATL. A whale shark, underground mall, lots of Coke products, and of course, KING TUT.
On the flights both to and from Georgia I sat next to chemical engineer students. On the way there the kid was about to go to college for it, on the way home the two girls were seniors. How bizarre. My youngest baby brother wants to go to school for chemical engineering. Regardless, they made the flights a little more enjoyable.
Them and the old Greek man on the flight to Georgia who drank 3 beers on our hour long flight.
My kind of man.
My riding partner agreed even though he was very much underage. Tsk tsk smart boy.


Beyonce on my itunes. So distracting. How is she everywhere? Everywhere.


Anyway, the point. My Mom is great. Seems every time I leave for more than one night she uses it as an excuse to stop over to my apartment and clean and decorate as if it's her own. It makes her happy, so my only rule is that if it's not in the trash, don't throw it away. AND -- don't fold my clothes. Ima big girl.
So last time on my return from Buffalo I walked in to see a little lit up Christmas tree. Cute.
This time when she brought me back from the airport I came in to see the Christmas tree down ( yeahhh, I still had it up in Marchhh... haaaa. Oops! ) and these two white gems at my island;





! How cute! (this is the cleanest my island has been in a weeeek!) She said she's been looking for stools to put there ever since I moved in. I, on the other hand, always had in my head that I was going to be moving -- But she's right, I'm not within the next 3 months, and when I do, I'm taking these with me and getting a tall table. She got them from the Estee Lauder makeup stands in Macy's. They're super comfortable.
I want to paint them and do so much to them, but right now they look so right. White at the white island, brown at the brown kitchen table. Maybe it will come to me after scouring design books on what I should do.
Early birthday present. I smile every time I think of it. Mostly cause it was so nice.
And everything looks so much brighter without that tree! (haahah)




I love them.
I love her.
Loved my trip.
Love that I'm back.
But seriously, what does a girl have to do for a little bit of sunshine?
I feel like I have these gray clouds on a leash. They're just following me wherever I go.




Oh yeah.





Happy St Patrick's Day. I hate this one almost as much as Valentine's Day.
Drunken tool bags.
And here I am drinking a green margarita in the underground mall. Hoping to be more drunk than the other people there.
Didn't succeed. Maybe today I will!

!

YEAH! Those two little rain clouds/lowest temperatures of the week represent my two days of vacation. What's up! My two days of flight are sunny sunny sunny though. I came to bring the rain hardcore to the brain.

Woke up so early I feel a little nauseous. Maybe it's nerves. I know it's nerves. I'm procrastinating pretty hard right now. I leave in... 40 minutes... And I don't think I'm done packing. Lovely. Maybe I'll shave. Either that or I'll wear shorts and make really good friends with my plane mate... For comic relief. It will be the best/most awkward plane ride he/she will ever have with "That girl with the real hairy legs and gravity defying bangs." My goal is to look suspicious enough that they decide to do a fully body search on me.

.... Okay. Enough. Kitty is in charge this weekend. DON'T destroy my pretty little liquor cabinet! Thanks! See you soon!

Additional self-realization.

This BLOG has lost all types of direction.

di·rec·tion (dĭ-rĕk'shən)
n.

1. The act or function of directing.
2. Management, supervision, or guidance of an action or operation.
3. The art or action of musical or theatrical directing.
4. Music. A word or phrase in a score indicating how a passage is to be played or sung.
5. An instruction or series of instructions for doing or finding something. Often used in the plural.
6. An authoritative indication; an order or command.
7. The distance-independent relationship between two points in space that specifies the angular position of either with respect to the other; the relationship by which the alignment or orientation of any position with respect to any other position is established.
8. The statement in degrees of the angle measured between due north and a given line or course on a compass.
9. A course or area of development; a tendency toward a particular end or goal: charting a new direction for the company.


Dans ce sens. En direction de. Contre-pied. Auto-direction.

Dry hands, chapped lips. DEhydrated.

It's time, kiddos. Tomorrow I take flight to bask in the 55 degree weather of the not so Hot-lanta sun. Yep, I'm terrified. Only of the flight. Not so much of the ground. To continue on with gangster March, I think Atlanta is the perfect place to chill out for a few days.

I've been sleep walking all day. No rest for the mildly wicked, I say.

I'm posting this for someone who was unaware of the greatness of this video. And that someone probably translates into a lot of people that need to be exposed.




Yup, it's Skinny Puppy, "Protest."
And yes, sweet moves.
It's one of my all time favorite videos.


Why doesn't this happen more often in real life (IRL)?
Because people lack guts, that's why! I'm going to start carrying around a BOOMBOX and challenging people in the streets to a dancing duel.


I'm lacking a transitional statement here so I'm just going to MOVE ON.


I was just informed by my dearest Jennifer, that there is a NEW all natural Pepsi.
The Review;


It's terrible
tastes like really flat old pop, and watered down
yeah
MAYBE rum would help, but even then... ugh


There you have it. Not even rum will fix the problem. Might as well just drink good ol' H2O. BUT!





If this is how ALL of the All Natural Pepsi's come packaged, I plan on purchasing at least a six pack's worth. How in credibly attractive... raw... My flowers would look lovely in these. It also kind of makes me want to wrestle. WWF style. With folded chairs and RAW bottles!
(I still disapprove of the new Pepsi logo though. Don't fix what's not broken, babes.)


This has gone on too long.

Mary Ellen!

Today is my Mother's birthday.
I won't disclose her age but she's a total babe.

She's taking off work to drive me to the airport on Thursday and that's kind of what makes her the best.
Thanks Mom! For giving birth and all!

Notorious.

How could I forget the anniversary of Biggie Smalls DEATH?
I guess just as easily as I could forget Kurt Cobain's birthday (Slap on the wrist. The man celebrated a birthday exactly ONE MONTH before mine.)
Spot on.

I guess March is my gangster month.
Hot-lanta in T-two days.