This post is going to be so fucking disjointed. I apologise.

So. I have to say that this was one of the best weekends of my life. I had a genuinely pleasant time, until Saturday night, of course, when I went to (e:ThePink) and got more drunk than I've ever been... like ever. It was the first time I've ever puked from drinking. I've been welcomed to the club.

Men are disgusting. Yes, I was trashed, but I wasn't so stupid enough as to not notice guys trying to take advantage of my friends and me after a few drinks. Maybe we were asking for it, but I'm still repulsed. I always see things that people do and think, "What the FUCK? Where in hell did they get the idea that it's their place to do THAT? I would NEVER do something like that." People are gross, myself included.

I detest the acrobatics of dating. I vote we all knock on the object of our affections door and tell them what's what and see what happens. Of course, I'll never have the cajones to do this, but anyone who does has serious respect with me. (Or, as Ali G would say, Respeckt.) If I ever work up the nerve and manage to hold onto it, someone's getting good and given a confession, Alison-style. No wussing out involved. I've got htings to say, hot and cold, but I'm scared shitless that I'll never have the balls to lay out the cold, even though that's incredibly unfair. I think I'm even more scared that one day I will spill it, and then there'll be nothing left for the hot stuff. I'm just going to try and ignore it, now. Maybe, by the time we're good and older, I'll have forgotten and will be able to have a nice life... or something. For now, I kind of feel sick with guilt.

(Sorry if this post is getting lame.)

I dyed my hair earlier today. The blonde was making me dumber. This is the closest I've been to my natural hair color in years. (see stupid pictures below.)

I really like the song 'Co-Pilot', by Letters to Cleo.

I got a call a little bit ago from an ex, telling me that he's leaving for Iraq in 13 days and that he needs some of his shit back.
We barely dated, but for some reason, this call really upset me. It gave me that pain in the bottom of your gut you got when you were naughty and your parents made you sit in the corner. And I haven't even done anything wrong! He was an immature jackass, and I patted myself on the back repeatedly for ditching him.
I guess it's just because I'm stressed out. School, divorce, male-related issues... kill myself. So anyways, I did a gloriously recockulous Myspace photo shoot to make myself feel better. Here is a brief sample -- to see the rest, you'll just have to friend me, damnit.
(There's pretty much nothing else, actually, so don't sweat it.)

Holy ex-boyfriend, Batman! The KARL has just commented on one of my new Myspace pictures! Is this the night of boyfriends or WHAT?





... because I always do pictures with a hand or two in the foreground.



... because I'm just sweet like this.



... because I basically crack myself up.


oh, (e:lilho)! Here is that picture...
And, for everyone elses clarification, this is a picture of Karl, my one and only uber serious boyfriend, mostly because he's the only guy I've ever met who's been hopped up on enough drugs to take me on full-time. This is the single best picture I've ever seen of him... no joke.





Let's just end this week now... I kind of make myself sick, sometimes... let's just crawl into bed and never come out again, 'kay?

i would like to take this opportunity to say that i fully support anyone else who doesn't plan on dressing up for the (e:halloweenparty) tomorrow. join me in lameness, friends!





also, does anyone know of a restaurant in buffalo (preferably as close to (e:strip) and our neck of the woods as possible) that serves pirogues? i'm sure one of you (e:polishpeeps) would have an idea.

me and (e:matt) abd (e:paul) and (e:terry) and (e:mike) didn't go to allen street. we are geting pizza and mroe than fifteen wings. peace out (e:homies)