To fuck my writing...

i need to stop thinking i need a relationship or to be sexually fulfilled.


given my immense progress writing-wise and my conquering of my paralyzing case of writer's block, the only fucking I need to be doing is with my writing.


jeez, i sound like i'm trying to pose as a non-virgin. oh no i'm a virgin all right. love hasn't exactly swung the way i wanted it to lately, let's just put it that way.


and luckily i had this revelation during this longass winter break. ah, winter break. it has truly worked wonders for me this year. my mind has been cleansed. no bullshit, so i can think and write. 


i write, read and watch californication and weeds by day and go out and do random shit at night. 


the curse of being home: being under the watchful eye of MOM, aka being watched like a hawk 24/7 i can't get into much trouble...but i have this break trust me. 


i get into more shenanigans at school.


one of the best nights was when i was drunk and randomly smoking a cig in the parking lot then my cousin and two friends randomly appear and take my cigarette away. "I don't want you to get sick!" my cousin hollers.


I was PISSED. I don't even smoke that much! On occasion. I've blazed more than smoked cigarettes. 'Cuz weed is indeed much better. Just saying. And alcohol trumps all.


Anyway, I'm finished with that I'm beginning to sound like I belong in rehab.


So I think this break I've successfully purged myself of lusting over people---male and female. No more sordid, erotic thoughts now! I've been telling myself.


And it's working! 'Cuz I have a shitton of my book down. I have three and a half sections to go though, but still, it's getting increasingly simple to write.


Man, I can't wait to get back to school...I'm gonna go apeshit nuts the first weekend back. I miss getting crazy. I went nuts in the beginning of the year. Then I threw up one night, all night, 'cuz I was a dumbass and chugged rum...again. So I took a break. And I'm ready to get back out there to the PARTAY SCENE BITCHES!


My goal? To meet more guys. Primarily just as friends, or ones I can use to get smokes and liquor. Yes, I sound like a dreadful excuse for a human being but you know? It could be future writing material. That's why I love experiences.

weeds. classic season 1. celia.

"You know, you're a good listener..."
"Thank you!"
"Fuck you. HEY CAN WE GET ANOTHER ROUND?"

i love me some cokey smurf aka marcy from californication!

"Do you know how hard it is to get a girl off? It is like disconnecting a bomb. I mean, there are all these wires and shit down there. Who knows which one you're supposed to cross or pull..."

more brilliance a la the l word

"Hey Alice, you know, there's this crazy, weird thing that happens when you write. So this thing that happens when you write is that you draw from your own life and in turn, you take those experiences and use something called imagination, Alice!"

i guess the change in my pocket wasn't enough/and i said fuck youuuuu-ou-ouuuu

WHAT THE FUCK?!!??!?!??!?!


as a rapper may say with a misogynistic undertone,
"bitches will be bitches, can't do shit about that,"
but when's it unexpected, what do you do about that?
it's just one of those days, when you want to throw your middle finger up
'cuz you feel so damn self-conscious like you're a pain in someone's ass, something fleeting that won't last
some goddamn mindless imbecile
what'd i do? am i aggravating like a rash, an itch you sure as fuck don't wanna scratch
am i crass am i rude am i just a tad too crude?
vain and self-absorbed what the fuck? fuck these bitches, i won't worry, 'cuz all i know is that i did nothing wrong, yet i must vent to write this song
am i a piece of shit, fuck, what'd i do?
everything's swell then i realize it's only a matter of time till everything gets so fucked up. it's true, any situation can make me a fool, one wrong turn and everything plummets into a raging inferno.

euphoria is fleeting

Guzzle down the euphoric 

Your tendencies, so prehistoric

Hop on my safari we'll take a wild ride

Into counterculture, away from the countryside

Not sure if I want a groom or a bride

But hey, I don't really give a fuck---I don't need to decide

I have apeshit ideas, but I want them worldwide

Sylvia, can you make me bona fide?

I like to think I've got you inside

I may be a tad misguided

I'm so undecided

But I'm zen

Go with the flow, holding out my pen

Good vibes, pain subsided

That's where you and I collided

You're so neat, I'm so lopsided

We're numb in life until we're touched

Anguish seeps in, contentment we clutch

Simpler to find the dreadful

Even when we're not some sitting bull

We sweat damn hard till our head is full

The good life only ends in strife

So I mind as well reach for that knife

Euphoria is fleeting

Snubbing my greeting

Bailing on that meeting

Sorrow, ire, illness

Will trump at the end of the day

Because disquiet, discontent

Will always knock out the rest

TBC...

28 days

sandra bullock=<3


"the whole point of the game (of life) is to minimize the pain."

"Yeah I know I drink a lot I know I do because I'm a writer and that's what you do, you drink."

Fucking anti-self-expression, stifler of art BITCH

my mom got really ireful when i told her proudly how much i have done of my work and how productively i've been working on it this break.


who the fuck DOES that?


then she listed about fifteen other allegedly more productive things i could be doing.


fuck THAT shit bitch! there's nothing more fulfilling and more productive than writing to me. suck on THAT.


she's getting the boot at my first book signing, let's just put it that way.

A hypothetical dating advertisement, if you will

salutations y'alls, my name's "lola"
i'm a raving lunatic, in the most fun-loving and respectable manner possible
i'm rather hyperactive
i'm insanely, absurdly, wretchedly arbitrary
i write, blog, overanalyze, observe, bitch and fight for gay rights bitches in my own unique ways, primarily through writing. aside from that, i don't do much else
the way i see it...i'm not gonna fucking micromanage, this isn't fucking high school where we have to overbook ourselves and get overinvolved in shit that we're not passionate about whatsoever. this is college, where you should narrow down your ambitions, 'cuz after all, you're only gonna truly put forth effort in what you love
aside from...i'm in alliance and the feminist clubs at school...they don't do all that much though. the lectures are very engaging, however. i prefer to do the gay rights thing my own way.
i'm definitely a sexually fluid person...either that, or i'm just horny. one of my good friends tells me i'm a "pansexual" in other words, i just love everything. "You just like everything," she tells me matter-of-factly. "But just don't like animals in that way." Beastiality KB? Really? What the fuck do you think I am.
I do a lot of harmless, bizarre things, so if that doesn't float your boat then you can drive your boat away from my island and into a fucking glacier for all I care. Or on a lighter note, into the horizon. There is no rhyme and reason to a lot of what I do. But I prefer it like that. I usually do this to spice things up more in life.
Life is too fucking goddamn boring to not go apeshit nuts to add pizzazz and garner more stories out of it.
I am complex yet very simple. After graduation I want to get the fuck out of here and to West Hollywood and hopefully make a living as a successful novelist/writer in general. My immense, unrealistic dream is to get published before I graduate. And if this fails, I want to keep on trying while simultaneously teaching. I want to party hard in L.A. and live that ideal counterculture, beatnik life (bringing back the Beat Generation, yo!) Hahaha. Anyway...back to my book...

Updates

My book is schizo. 'Nuff said. I have been told before my literary voice is very unique but I'm not quite sure if it's entirely a good thing. I'm not trying too hard to sound sophisticated, but that's not a compulsory component for a novel but still...ugh I don't know I'm stumped again! I need 100 pages at LEAST by the end of the break.

I smoke I drink I do my thing

I'm livin' in my own world

and if they hate I let them

Who gives a f-uck?

Anyone who know about what I do

I'm livin' in my own world
I chill back and I
spread peace and love, yeah

Have you ever led an alliance?
A bunch of stoner kids livin' life through defiance
Remember back when couldn't cop not one damn appliance
White tee, wrinkled and a mug
Adopted my mothers luck and quick wits
So I spy me a bobbin' head bitch from a mile away
Girls stay a mile away
Do the single lady dance by them other mother f-uckers
Nah mean?
and why it gotta be about the ride, ride
At the bar place upon my car in the lot
And I'm blowin' smoke and the dro in and out my lungs
Got me thinkin' huh? Where's plain pat at?
All I really know is that go time is about more than a night
go now I feel a slump
You can't judge me cutie, I'm wreckless
I got some mysteries that's confronted when the blunts lit

I smoke I drink I do my thing
I'm livin' in my own world
and if they hate I let them
Who gives a f-uck?
Anyone who know about what I do
I'm livin' in my own world
I chill back and I spread peace and love, yeah

http://lyricsmusicvideo.blogspot.com/2010/03/kid-cudi-i-do-my-thing-lyrics-video.html

(Snoop Dogg)
First off, f-uck all the clones
Can I shoot a shoutout to all the stoners?
No fingerprints, these isotoners
I'm still buyin' half Ps up off the corner
A nigga on one, better yet I'm on two
Whatchu waitin' on, blaze up, you want to?
Shake and take, get cakes they can shape and scrape
Got the whole world talkin' bout snoop
We wanna wake n bake
Well lets go
Kid Cudi, my buddy, he got the best smoke
MCs n Gs yeah this the west coast
They say trees is trees, nah, that says low
Let me deafly originate so you'll appreciate
The state of mind
When I'm flyin' high through the friendly skies
Open up your eyes and recognize
Mothership connection connected
Yeah, we gettin' hella high.

I smoke I drink I do my thing
I'm livin' in my own world
and if they hate I let them
Who gives a f-uck?
Anyone who know about what I do
I'm livin' in my own world
I chill back and I spread peace and love, yeah

I said
We shinin'
We rollin'
We sippin'
We smokin'
We livin'
We happy
They mad
They mad(x3)
*Repeat all(x4)*

f-uck em.

I smoke I drink I do my thing
I'm livin' in my own world
and if they hate I let them
Who gives a f-uck?
Anyone who know about what I do
I'm livin' in my own world
I chill back and I spread peace and love, yeah

I said
We shinin'
We rollin'
We sippin'
We smokin'
We livin'
We happy
They mad
They mad(x3)
*Repeat all(x4)*

f-uck em

just a thought.

I think I may be an idiot savant. I blatantly excel in English, namely Creative Writing but am perfectly inept when it comes to let's say, Mathematics.


Hmmm.

I LOVE ME SOME COKEY SMURF!

Drugs are an impeccable metaphor for life. And other shit.

You know what's disturbing? 
I'm an attention whore. It's true, that's why I've always wanted to be famous.
I've wanted to act, sing---do whatever essentially to be in the limelight. 
Then I finally came to my senses and realized the only way I'd fucking get there is by writing. This is after I've been told thousands of times how BRILLIAAAAANT of a writer I am hahaha. Well not BRILLIANT, I'm far from it. I could never write anything with as much substance as Toni Morrison for instance.
I am only 19...oh wait JK I'm 20 now. Just turned it 51 minutes ago. Fuck me...
So now I officially can't pull that "Oh I'm too young for that wisdom and depth and shit..."
No no no. Now I'm EXPECTED to be all introspective and philosophical and ponderous and have adult wisdom and shit, since I've officially lived for two decades.
Well, holy fuck then I got to churn out the rest of this book.

I'm gonna be fucking 20 in 2 hours. Countdown begins.

I dug out a beer from the fridge when maw and paw and my little ginger bro were watching "Inception" but I couldn't find a damn bottle opener. I decided I needed a bit of a kick in order to get the juices flowing for writing time, ya know?


Especially 'cuz I feel like a total Boo Radley sometimes at home---not a bad thing. I think a lot. And write, read, watch "Californication" for inspiration (that rhymes bitch!) Ya know, the usual.


But some of my friends are really flakey. Me and KB were supposed to go to Potbelly's today. But we're going with AS on Tuesday to discuss our apeshit nuts, wildin' New Year's plans. WHOOO!


And tomorrow's my birthday. Am I excited? Not one bit. 


I am, however, very much looking forward to going to my favorite restaurant---Mexican food, and then going on the town and ideally, having a grand old time.


I just am always terrified to wake up on my birthday. My dad always makes a big deal of it. Okay, I love attention, but not about things I detest ya know? That Catholic guilt (gotta love it right?) always kicks in right at the most IDEAL of moments. Truly fantastic. 


I can't wait till New Year's. We're gonna get so fucked up, in addition to hookah-ing. Ideally. We're gonna city it up that night, that's for certain!


Anyway, just a thought: maybe it's better I DON'T turn into a Hank Mood-esque writer. I just watched the latest episode, he tries to commit suicide.


Gotta love that tortured, artist crap. Like I say, I partake in self-torture. Not like cutting myself and shit (but trust me I certainly tried in high school when things were rough academics-wise, as well as took a shitton of pills---that was after my dad suggested I join the army 'cuz there wasn't any way I was getting into college. All subtly implied of course. Psh, fuck that shit.)


Anyway, aside from that, I mean, my anxiety issues are fucked up but it's gotten loads better. I'm more calm and at peace with myself which is all we want in life, right? 


In any case, see? The only demons of mine are in my head. And usually I ward off that damn bell jar with great success.


Right now I'm perfectly tranquil. Just wrote a chunk more of my novel, thank God. Which reminds me I need to write that Christmas story. And get a Secret Santa gift. And write thank you cards. Fuck. I'll do that tomorrow before I go out. I need to go to the bank tomorrow too...Mom's orders. Not quite sure what the hell I'm supposed to do there, but maybe I'll buy some cigarettes on the walk there to commemorate my aging self. 


I would pick weed and swishers over cigs any day, but hey what do you expect at a gas station? I haven't done any of those even THAT much in my life. I've probably smoked weed way more than swishers and cigs. But naturally, booze is more accessible. 


My mom says alcoholism runs in the family and I want to tell her, "No Mom, just Irish blood, which is just as bad," but she'd think I was being cheeky and shake her head and disregard me.


I'm really bummed one my good friends can't make it tomorrow, she's stuck in some unidentified state. Swell. Oh well, the others can. I'll make the most of it.


It's probably kinda bad that I'll try pretty much anything. My friends joke about it, but I wouldn't go as far as coke, heroin and laced shit. Only organic or pure stuff...cannot be laced with scary shit that would fuck me up and send me to the hospital. But that's the thing with drugs, you never fucking know. 


And thus, drugs is the ultimate metaphorical image for life.

making WONDROUS HEADWAY IN MY NOVEL, yo.

Thank you Hank fucking Moody and Californication, one of my all-time favorite shows. Right up there with The L Word, SATC, and DH. And that's really saying a lot.


I just pounded out a few more finely-tuned, swell pages and I'm still going at it.


Californication really, truly does it for me. It's a delightfully sordid and deliciously hot show about Hank Moody, a brilliant yet wildly sardonic, slacker-ish and erratic writer. He smokes and drinks a shitton and parties hard and has gobs and gobs of sex, but nevertheless, he is a TRUE SUCCESS.


I'd love to be a girl version of him someday. Minus the erratic nature.

things i LOVE---obsessions and fascinations of '10.

1. cheryl cole
2. kid cudi
3. kanye 
4. californication
5. the l word
6. the real housewives of new jersey
7. rap in general
8. amy and david sedaris
9. activism for gay rights
10. the porn/sex industry 
11. champagne 
12. wil.i.am
13. feminine men/metrosexuals 
14. pharrell williams
15. the x factor
16. british people 
17. french women
18. the power of nightquill 
19. people with eclectic taste in various artistic things/all-encompassing, flexible folks!
20. up, up and away---cudi
21. champion---kanye
22. intellectual rap
23. drinking with family members
24. raunchy novels
25. MORE TO COME.

trying to write...

Damn. Writer's block isn't even what is is that's kicking my ass. It's essentially me being a perfectionist and trying to make each and every sentence achingly lyrical, with the most perfect metaphors and images known to mankind.


I need to stop and JUST SCREW UP! And just pound it out!

true facts.

the motherfucking catholic guilt trip. psycho bitch mom loves to play this card
it's a quick talk with the others but me it's heated, never-ceasing
never-ending like Rapunzel's hair
raised eyebrows yield a withering stare
yeah fuck her she makes me feel selfish
even though i distinctly said i don't want nothing for christmas
she better be at work on my birthday, that's all i'm saying
on christmas she always nit picks to find a reason to bellow like a banshee
and at me strictly
this morning it was 'cuz i didn't have anything for her and dad
then i made something and she got more mad
called it thoughtless, last minute
at least i put some effort in it
either way, i lose the game
too bad tomorrow's fucking sunday
love's to be seething
go 'head bitch keep on believing
that i'm vindictive, self-serving
please, you dont know the life lessons i'm learning 
you don't see at school
living, breathing the thoughts i'm receiving
outside looking in, your perception's warped
almost afraid to go to sleep
her with a dagger at my throat saying my life was a dream
my birthday's no cop out, then she harps too
last year was doing math till i grabbed a bottle and a glass
just kidding, i only sipped white wine once by myself in my kitchen
no one was home and i was feeling ambivalent toward life
there's some champagne in a red cup next to my bed
i should gulp down the remaining drops before the pillow cushions my head
but i need to finish downloading kanye to my ipod
what the fuck am i gonna do now, bitch?
she's FUCKING SKILLED AT GUILT TRIPPING
WISH I WAS ACID TRIPPING
new year's eve we're rolling b's, sipping sizzurp and the like
if i'm lucky mom and dad won't be breathing down my neck
so uptight, overanalysis of my life
fuck this shit, i dont need this
the guilt sunk in like a rock in a deep river
instantly plopping to the bottom, heavy hitter
smack dab to the sand, after we hear a splash
fishermen are mad
the guilt's her dream
crazed like a raging inferno
and a fucked up maniac, escaped convict
it's her bliss, i dont get it---sorry
she doesnt know half the shit about me
out of her mind, it's still christmas time 
i'll start writing thank you notes tomorrow---notes arent my forte but i'll do something
what's their california address? shit. well i guess they'll get it eventually. . .
i'm not materialistic at all, bitch, talk to your son, he's the greedy one
always wanting more than what he has---nothing's good enough, you should kick HIS ass
leave mine alone, i'll right these tiny wrongs
i shouldnt have argued back
i shoulda known that she likes that
i tense up when i hear her slippers slide on the stairs
i think i'm a goner, my flesh'll be everywhere
fuck. better stop this shit and write my book then re-read sylvia for inspiration.

Wonderful Christmas Eve!

So magical, it's truly a white christmas! i'm getting all teary-eyed now! ahahaha.
i had nearly 4 glasses of champagne...but when I set down my 4th glass, I only had a smidge left, and I came back and some asshole had taken it! WTF really?! was someone watching me like a hawk or something? asswipes!


it was fantastic, stepping right through the door and being offered 3 different kinds of fine champagne. i only felt a bit tipsy though, and it quickly faded. then i ate a shitton---tons of appetizers, 2 corn beef sandwiches, loads of dessert, then i felt a bit sick, then it passed and i wanted more champagne. my mom didn't even care! all she said was "dont guzzle champagne, SIP it!"


but where the fuck were the lemon vodka shots?! i thought that was a new family tradition!


oh and i got punched by Evil Kid upside the head. seriously. it was like a bitch slap. whatev, i didn't react. i was feeling sedate at the moment. I was laying on the ground at the time.


well tomorrow won't be as wild sadly...but then again who knows mom's posse is off the wall as well. in more ways than one too. it just sucks it's gonna be at OUR house. i'm locking my door so it doesnt get trashed by the Little Red Devil, and I ain't talking about my broski!


Anyway, tomorrow will be even more swell if my cousin's girlfriend shows up---haven't seen her in fucking eons---only like twice in my life and she STILL says i'm her FAVORITE! =) i approve! well anyway, this week KICKS ASS!


december is the best month! and on the 26th me and KB are hanging out again, then me and all my friends including my favorite guy friend who i havent seen in AGES are going to my favorite restaurant, a mexican place somewhat near my house then maybe downtown for ice skating and dessert. i kind of want to go to the chocolate/fondue cafe place...can't remember the name though. anyway, i have sooooo much fucking cash money too already! hot damn!


i'm on cloud nine! and everyone should be as well!

Part of my book that's not fucking working. It doesn't weave into the plot seamlessly by any means.

Maybe I should quit with this discreet Boo Radley-esque bullshit. Originality is difficult, nearly impossible at times, but hey, my aim is not to be like "To Kill a Mockingbird" or any other novel.

        Life was far more serene when there wasn't a vestige of Polly Liss in my mind, I decided toward the end of my sophomore year. 

It was around this time that I also decided that I was long overdue for embarking on my destined path as a rebel outcast. That was essentially how Edna and I got to becoming soulmates. 

It was a crisp, balmy and blustery year of recklessness and acerbity. I flipped the bureaucratic, elitist maggots the bird and haven't put down that finger since then. I came to the conclusion that grades meant virtually nothing in life and even exemplary marks weren't going to send me in the direction I wanted to go.

Edna and I didn't regret a second of the lunacy, which rapidly became unparalleled, reaching entirely new heights that had us quivering at the advent of the chaos, but quickly it faded away as we found the soft, spongy blanket of satisfaction and adventure to fit us rather snugly. In spite of this, there was always a translucent patch of wool that irked us and prickled our raw backs as if we were tossed into a straightjacket of pins and needles. Naturally, we did our best to claw the stinging away with our bare hands, feverishly wrapping and twisting our arms around like contortionists. 

The house kiddie corner to the school was a run-down, shockingly towering shack that had about as much breathing room as a pickle jar. The windows were tinted with a light layer of crumbly filth, and the stoop at the door was similarly caked with dry, chalky lemon-colored chunks that were, to put it bluntly, a nauseating head-scratcher that triggered dry heaves from any poor soul who dared to wobble by. We were convinced they were remnants of an animal's stale, dried up vomit.

The grass in the front and back yards was as long and gnarly as a negligent, scraggly elderly woman's pubic hair. It was a spiraling, swirling, hectic jungle, minus the exotic animals of the Amazon. Tangled vine thickets lined the tall wooden fence that encompassed the sordid, rickety dwelling. Welcome to Splinter City. 

The dreary, colorless domicile had virtually no signs of life. You could linger at the front stoop for hours gazing upon the chipped beige window panes and the cracked, askew flowerpots concealed by the gnarly clumps of  weeds that shot out of every spot of dirt on the patchy lawn. 

Now gaping at the haunted, comatose shanty I felt as if gray clouds were incessantly spiraling overhead as if they were constantly about to burst into rain drops and splatter ominously upon the shack in all its unsettling squalor, accentuated by strikes of lightning and crackles of thunder. I did this on a daily basis on my endless ambling home from Hades' Domain, posing as a sickeningly intimidating yet sensible, brick school building. I never saw any movement within the home's orifices that I obsessively peered into on a daily basis. 

Where the fuck am I GOING with this description of a house?

It's solid but doesn't fly with the story. 

I was trying to force it in by describing when Jane and her friend Edna would sit on the front stoop of this haunted, vacant house when they would cut class and smoke unfiltered cigarettes and just shoot the shit, then one day Polly would walk by when Jane was just there by herself and some shit would go down. But I don't want to backpedal at all, that would be going backwards in my story, honestly. I'm supposed to be unveiling the path for Jane to find peace and work through her shit...then I'm moving on to her association with this girl, Katherine Rogers, a very pure, seemingly innocent, intensely hypocritical, born-again extremist who much to Jane's dismay, shows up far too much in her life.

Then after Katherine, Bess Badgley, a former friend of Jane's who de-evolved into a mindless, dependent, follower. Then lastly, the tale of Natalie Kowalski, a Polish girl who Jane used to think was the most considerate person on Earth. They were very good friends, also absurdly hypocritical and very envious of Jane, secretly of course. Natalie has very low self-esteem and judges people who smoke and drink yet she has done cocaine, ecstasy, LSD and everything in between. One time, Jane, Edna, Natalie and a gaggle of their friends went to a house party and Edna and Jane were doing pot, hookah and drinking Smirnoff and Jane found a guy to talk to who happened to be very handsome, and they're discussing poetry, and Natalie happened to not know Jane was a lesbian, and then in that instant of impulsive wickedness, she turns all of the friends against Jane and Edna as well, because she is jealous, straight up. 

Anyway, what the fuck am I gonna do? The last part I left off at is where Jane suddenly has a fiendish, devilish notion in that she decides to do something to blackmail Polly, given that she sees her fucking one of the staffers, Garrett Bigsby, in the staff room, and is pondering taking a picture with her phone or a video. Then, she realizes she never responded to Edna's text asking her if she found her "StoryBook". Suddenly, Edna comes up behind Jane and scares the living shit out of her. It's actually Edna's idea to execute this method of blackmail...Edna tries to snap a shot of them fucking since Jane is reluctant, then Edna causes a ruckus because she's freaking out because her phone is frozen given that she tried to take a picture of an "orgasmic burrito" when her, Jane and their friends went ouf for Mexican food this past weekend. Then Jane shoves her aside, impatient and says she'll do it, and decides on a video. When she starts filming, however, Polly looks up in horror, like a deer in the headlights then throws a robe on (where the fuck did she get a robe? Jane wonders) and chases the girls down the hall. Edna decides it's not her business and ditches Jane. Jane finds out that Polly told Yen, a staunch conservative and bigot that she's a lesbian, hence why Yen never sticks up for her when Yen returns from lunch to find the girls quarreling in the hallway---Garrett, of course, made a run for it as well. Yen makes a comment about a rainbow bracelet Jane has on, and Jane catches on and asks her what she's implying---and sure enough Polly and her empty-headed sidekick Kimberly told Yen she's a lesbian and Yen was repulsed. Jane doesn't know how she feels about this, and senses Kimberly and Polly are extremely homophobic as well, given they assumed that would be ammunition and tried hard to get Yen to discriminate against her. Hence, the column went to Freddie, and so on and so forth. Jane feels a mixture of emotions---but feels deep down they are very jealous of her because she dares to be different, not just in sexuality. And Jane makes a speech to Yen and Polly that makes it very clear the Chronicle is a twisted, crooked and sick environment but she will not quit or back down. She will see this commitment through. As she is leaving, she makes a comment that a condom is stuck to her shoe. She tosses Polly a tissue as she saunters out of the school as she leaves Yen and Polly's jaws on the floor.

"Oh the things I do to retrieve my private property," Jane thinks to herself. As for the StoryBook, its image evaporates from Jane's mind---suddenly, a cathartic feeling of not caring overwhelms her. If they read it, so be it. She frankly doesn't care what they think. It's all out in the open.

BRILLIANCE. TWO OF THE FUNNIEST PEOPLE ON EARTH.

 Now throw in Kathy Griffin and Lisa Lampanelli and you're golden!

KG

"Wait don't leave without seeing my picture with Oprah. That's the first thing I'd grab in a fire!"


---Kathy Griffin

PURE GENIUS. SO TRUE.

high spirits

Wine and spirits
Hand me another cocktail
Sliding upward like Mary Poppins on a stair rail
To my left I see a beluga whale
On the other side I see black clouds and a twisting gale
Funnels, like the cake
Sweet sugar, then a tooth ache
Oh shit, I must be baked
In my mouth's your snake
Here comes the earthquake
Foam spewing upward from the cracks
Face gone stoic
Then we relax
I'd do anything to get it back 
Put on your slacks
Pay the tax 
Pop a bottle
We'll go again, full throttle
Let's write a song about pussy and Petrone
With T-Pain's in the VIP room getting blown


High spirits can quickly catapult downward
Then back upward, fluctuating
Undulating, like thrashing waves

Perpetual paradox

Funny that you mention that
I may not be laughing now but 
I will be a few months from now I think
Let it dissolve like a vitamin in a can of Coke
Honestly, I think I'd choke
Don't need that shit, I'd air it out
Chop it down, so I'm free now
Luck's on the horizon
But luck isn't a word I use too often
How does one think she's not a train wreck?
Looking from the outside
Like into the magic mirror
Sans magic, it's quite tragic
I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve
But none in my head can'tvget you to leave
Oh wait, just kidding, I've got a foot out the door
But cynical me's begging for more
Every routine's like a goddamn chore
Hear me roar, next minute I'm snoring
Why's this life so goddamn boring?
Am I stuck in a rut do I want anything but
This. Some days I'm soaring
Someone get this bell jar up away from my head
Turning 20 soon, I feel like I'm dead
One minute I want this, next I want that 
Throw me in a maze and I'll run like a white rat

Work got my anger out

everytime it comes to mind 

even right after i unwind

it's like serenity and ire combined

i want to tell the world that i'm undefined

and that's all right

i couldn't give less of a fuck

in spite of my ferocity like a vicious mutt

so you ask if i got feeling left? i say somewhat

go ahead and try to crush me like a cashew nut

my spirit's not as broken as i initially deduced

bitches all i want now is a blunt and some grey goose

it's time to party got a lot to celebrate

and everything i believe is looming like an omen of sorts

watch where you're ricocheted, or you'll land on my swords

call me a monster, call me wicked

i'm a jester, my card's a fool but wait'll you pick it

a crimson-skinned monster with torches in my eyes flaring 

i may be the devil, but at least my mistakes aren't fucking glaring

at least acknowledgement's something i acknowledge

at least i can joke when i say i've just barely made it to college

you give a shit about the trivial shit

motherfucker, take it easy

the route you're going is really quite sleazy

sure i'm questionable but i like it

'cuz my values are in place

call me controversial 

but at least i stir the pot

as my ink blots

and my blood clots

take the stick out of your asshole

settle down

like alka seltzer in my glass as it fizzes

although i failed every single one of my quizzes

the big picture's where it lies

i'm getting so far away from here

gonna soar right up in the atmosphere 

no one's gonna know me anymore 

i'm gonna get out of this red state

launch myself into more of the person i am

don't want to change anything but the glaring flaws

soon you won't recognize me at all

i'm gonna accentuate

after i graduate

book it real far then head overseas

slip quietly into the night

join a lot of causes i believe in till i'm arrested