Do you get off on that?

I am going to a munch tonight! Yes, a munch. And yes, that kind of a munch. I've decided it's time to take the old latent dominant tendencies out of the back closet and put them to a little use.

give me one kiss and I'll be happy

oh god don't let me fall in love with him now

Sitting beneath neon lights, that song comes on. Amy is complaining about a new boyfriend (I don't know why she is so mad). I stare dismally into my milkshake, feeling far away, realizing, It makes me happy just to be with you.

Fuck.

"Give me, give me a chance to be near you..." god, this was all so stupid. I know it. I know it is, was, and always will be. And I know it doesn't really matter, but I don't care. I'll willingly be pathetic. It takes too much energy to shut it off, anyway. I take a sip of chocolate malt and lament my dreadful timing. (Not to mention my failing sense of perception, seemingly. You pulled the bag over my head like none other.) It wasn't my drunk talking. I meant it when I said I could kiss you forever.

And I don't even know why. You've caught me in some kind of hazy dance of acceptance, of the present, like nothing I've ever done before. It's new and strange and I want it fiercely. I'll keep dancing if it's what you want. You're acid for my emotions. Or maybe more of a vague addiction, a kind of reverse alcohol: you taste good going down, but I'm not sure if I like the aftereffects. And in spite of my rancid desire to control you, I would be utterly perplexed and disappointed if you ever actually let me. You can make me cry and you can be too blunt and you can make me come back for more and you can make my insides melt like butter in the microwave and you can make me laugh and you can make me happy and you can crush me momentarily and you can offend me and you can make me want to keep you forever, just the way you are, which is, of course, impossible.

Angela Gets Embarrassed

I went to Walgreen's tonight to buy whipped cream BECAUSE I am going to make chocolate and cinnamon coffee and I wanted whipped cream to put on top of it. So, I bring my can of whipped cream and my little pile of Ghirardelli chocolate that I just couldn't walk past (3 for a buck, happiness!) up to the check out and dump it all on the counter. There was a man, a nice, normal, respectable-looking adult behind the counter. We say hey, how are you, that sort of thing. Now, I don't know how you can say this without sounding incredibly creepy and I-want-in-your-pants-ish, but he did. He picks up the can, looks at me, and goes,

"Ooh, whipped cream. That's always good."

Oh lord. I blushed and smiled, I couldn't help it! (I know, me, blushing, of all people, can you imagine?) "Yeah."

And the amazing thing was, this guy was not being creepy at all! I don't know how he managed to get the point across that he thought I was using my whipped cream for scandalous activities and not sound scary at the same time, but he did. He was a nice man. And he embarrassed me.

And then...isn't it sad that when you buy a dessert topping, people automatically assume that you intend to have someone lick it off your body? Hmm. How society degenerates. ::shakes head::

Movie Review!: The Shining

Okay, is it just me, or has everyone else heard many different kinds of people rave about how fucking creepy The Shining is, and what a fantastic movie it is?

Uhh, yeah. NOT.

My neighbors and I watched it tonight....oh my god, one of the most "B," low-budget, 70s examples of sucky filmmaking ever! It was boring, the script was lacking and cheesy (if I have to hear "redrum" one more time...), the screenplay needed some serious help (it flat-out didn't even make sense in some places--a man who was not previously introduced to the plot being given a blowjob by a person in a bear suit who had also never been introduced...shown for about three seconds?), the acting was bad (Jack Nicholson moaning and stumbling around the labirynth, anyone?).....phew. I couldn't wait for it to end, and we spent at least the last 20 minutes just ripping on it harcore. It was awful. And it wasn't scary at all!!! I kept expecting it to pick up, get creepy, climax, something! Nope. The only freaky thing was when that hot babe from the shower turned into a moldy old woman (moldy? old? why? no one knows) with a hooked nose and no teeth, and started chasing him around, but that was just...icky. And think, you just had your mouth on that? ::shiver::

Who would've guessed? I mean, Jack Nicholson, it's quite famous, and horror movie buffs rant about how it's the only movie that's ever really scared them... I expected quite a lot more. It sucked.

So if you haven't seen it, I'd recommend keeping things the way they are. You're really not missing out on a good time at all.

We're Tired

A woman who's blog I read's son was born still in August. Since then, she has been diagnosed with Factor V Leiden and Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. I have no idea what either of those are. Anyway, she wrote this in a post recently and I couldn't help but laugh; it is just a perfect mirror of...emotional exhaustion?:

"Let's hope the next thing has an exciting red pill to take - the little white ones are getting dull."

Heh.

Okay, does anyone else even get this?

"What's the reason everybody came tonight...?"

"...The motherfucking Matches!!!!"

I saw the Matches at Slim's last night. Siiiiiiiiiigh. Such a fab show. Such a fab band! They're my rock & roll herooooooooos.

Highlights:
*I got in even though the show was sold out and I came with no tickets.
*There was a sexy guitar tech (who actually just turned out to be one of those dudes who helps set up equipment).
*Escape the Fate has one hell of a pretty guitarist. With artfully done eyeliner and very straight hair.
*The aforementioned band's frontman lead everyone in screaming "Fuck!" repeatedly.
*I managed to work my way up to where there were only two people in front of me by the time the Matches came on, and without too much difficulty, as well.
*Um, Shawn Harris is ridiculously bedroom. (It's the new word!) Of course, heavily influenced by the fact that he was wearing white patent leather dress shoes, black dress pants, a black and white striped button-down with a black or dark gray vest and turquoise silk scarf tied around his up-turned collar. Of course the requisite eyeliner, and hair is still black, shorter, messy, both sides match. I wish I could steal his closet whole.
*Everyone sitting down for the quiet part of Audio Blood. Love the Bay Area!
*At least half the people there had seen them before they got signed, and they all started chanting "L3." Ahh. Love.
*Shawn counted us off, then let us start Dog-Eared Page. =)
*Right before the lyrics start in Salty Eyes, he goes, "I need a chorus! I need a chorus here!" and I must say, we provided a rather nice one.
*They played My Soft and Deep (yay!) and Shawn did the heavy breathing thing at the end whilst leaning out over the audience and it was very hot.
*The entire Matches show. What else can I say? It was fucking amazing.
*I thought Shawn was wearing sort of shimmery, iridescent pants. But during their encore (Sick Little Suicide), he threw himself out into the audience and got passed back up to the stage right over my area. I put my hands up to help, and then I realized that they were regular pants, they were just wet! So was his shirt. Woohoo! Hardcore!

Lowlights:
*So many people there were wearing terrible clothes!
*Everyone was 15.
*All three of the opening bands (The Higher, I Am Ghost, Escape the Fate) sucked ass.
*I got pummeled with the fists and bony little elbows of the pubescent couple behind me, especially Pubescent Girlfriend. I suspect this is because they overheard me telling Crystal via cellphone that I was stuck next to The Most Annoying Couple Here. I actually have some light bruises on the backs of my arms.
*Butterfly Girl was on stage!
*I was presented with the lead singer of Escape the Fate's (or was it I Am Ghost? they kind of meld together...) butt, butt crack, or crotch, literally inches from my face (if not on my face/head), on several occasions. This is what comes of crowd surfing, I guess.
*Suddenly, Escape the Fate busts into this awful song....and it was the song about playing Russian Roulette! I was so sad! I made this immense connection in my head of Butterfly Girl playing it repeatedly in the computer room at the dorm, and her being on stage, and...AHHH!!! If you've never heard it, don't go look it up. It sucks hairy monkey boyparts and I'd probably rather listen to Green Day than it. How could such a gorgeous-looking boy be in such a shitty, shitty band?
*Shawn suggested that anyone who thought they could dance better than Jon come up and they'd have a dance contest, but then they didn't actually do it. Sad.
*They didn't sing You (Don't) Know Me, so no kick-ass noise. =(
*There were girls in front of me at one point who were wearing their long hair down!!! I almost said something (snarky) to them, but I figured they'd probably already realized what a dumb idea that was.

Other Notable Notes:
*I walked through the shady area of Market St. in a spaghetti-strap tank top, by myself, there and back, and only got propositioned twice! And they were not even bad ones. What a dream!
*Sexy Guitar Tech also plays drums!
*I'm pretty sure the lead singer of the Higher picked some of his moves off one William Beckett. ???
*The lead singer of I Am Ghost was really ugly and had really bad hair. It was a shocking combination.
*Butterfly Girl was with the ugly lead singer of I Am Ghost. =D
*Aforementioned band had three guys come out wearing ghost costumes -yes, sheets with eyes cut out- and jump around the stage during their first song. One of the guys' sheet got turned around and he couldn't see. He fell into the audience. =)
*The lead singer of Escape the Fate started screaming and cursing at the sound lady when his monitor went out, as did several members of the audience. For a long time. "We're not playing another fucking song until she turns my fucking monitor back on!" And the audience going, "Yeah! Fuck that bitch, Ronnie! Fuck her!!!" It was a little extreme. Before their last song he said, "So this is probably the last time we're ever gonna play here," and one of their guitarists came up to him and said something and shook his head and looked really upset. I believe him.
*My right arm fell asleep for a good 15-20 minutes, we were all pressed in so close together.
*A girl next to me passed out and didn't wake up for a while. I am really glad that I am not friends with the guy she was with, as he really did not seemed all that concerned and didn't do much to help her, not even hold her head up so she could get fresh(er) air.
*I wondered why everyone didn't just strip and have a big orgy. I mean, you can have sex with someone and be further away from them than we all were from each other. And everybody was all sweaty and slippery. A guy behind me said, "I've touched so many crotches tonight!" I felt like I'd raped about 12 people. It was intense, one of the most intense shows I've ever been to, space- and breathing-wise.
*Me and this freckly kid to my left were grinding hardcore for awhile, but it was because we were mad at each other and vying for the same spot. =D I love how, at shows, suddenly everything goes when you're trying to get to or stay at the front.
*Quite a few people were screaming for Eryn Smith, but they never played it.
*I Am Ghost had a chick on electric violin, who was not-surprisingly uncool, but she came out and played for Salty Eyes, so that was fun.
*They played Didi and instead of "Los Angeles is less than I longed for," he said, "San Francisco is everything that I longed for." =P
*He also sang what I assumed to be My Doe, Part 1. Fun!
*When I left, there was not a dry spot left on my clothing, anywhere. Not because I got water poured on me. Because of sweat.
*I found strings of long curly black hair and long blonde hair between my tits and in my pants when I got home.

I think that's about it. Geesh, my vocabulary has really degenerated. It currently consists mostly of words that get starred out when quoted in the newspaper. That's kind of sad.

So, end cap, I love the Matches. And I hope they're not actually fornicating with their mothers.

Unrelated:
I look sooooooo good right now. Why do I always look the best when I'm not going to see anyone? I hate Murphy and his stupid law.

I know a boy named Jeff and

I feel an adamant need to prove to him that I am more than just DV tapes and snooze buttons and food with artificial coloring in it.

There are parts of me that want to tell him I have a reason for staring up at the clouds, and tell him what that reason is.

There are reasons---"good reasons"---why I'm phallophobic, why I'm not as open as he thinks I should be, and why people with kids underfoot make me grumpy.

But I don't tell him. Because he would have no reaction. Because it would not matter to him, and it means all the world to me. There is nothing I can do that would affect him, that would draw the kind of response I desire from him.

I feel like he could never understand why I so love the pocket knife that I used to slit my wrist.

turnoutthelightturnoutthelightturnoutthelight

I need a hug from Jim Morrison.

Okay, I want Jim Morrison to sleep in my bed with me tonight. And cuddle.

Lost In Translation

So, two of the ESL students in my Tuesday seminar came traipsing in today wearing somewhat surprising clothing. Or, rather, clothing with somewhat surprising word graphics on them:

The boy was wearing a tshirt with a picture of the back of a Chevy Van 20 on it, and on the spare tire cover were the words, "BOOBS OR BUST?"

The girl had a bright red and yellow baseball hat, the front of which was boldy emblazoned with this phrase:

SEX

is a high

PERFORMANCE

thing

Eee! Now, both of these kids have some seriously rusty English, and have only been living in this country since the fall, so I'm assuming the inappropriateness of these statements sailed right over their heads.

Still... I got a kick out of it. =D

You're So Sad in Your Subplot

Walking up Market Street. It is very sunny and warm out, but I am failing at my attempt to enjoy myself. Kevin wails in both my ears.

What is, what is this? This mess of my existence is all these politics of life and death and relevance. It's my existence.

Another morning it comes running up your bedpost with the wind. You face yourself just like you always do, time and time again. The mortal coil of image, inner peace and satisfaction.

And so you keep it on the down-low, hiding all the secrets that are down below. And so you keep it on the down-low.

Tell me, baby, was it worth it all?

Without a hint of nausea, I have a sudden, strong urge to throw up.

I am so very tired of this shit.