YOLO

I'm a gangsta, but cha'll knew dat, big baus dawg, yeee I had to do dat.  Keep a blue flag hangin' out ma backside only on the left side, yeeeee das da crip side.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the thug life really does feel so damn good.  My bestest bro comes home from a magical far away trip abroad to the land of beer cheaper than water, and I'm looking forward to getting my fellow party juggernaut back.  His adventure has me yearning for out of country travel, but I've never done it before so I'm only going off of TV, movies, stories, and of course, my fantasies.

     After applying for my very first passport on Monday, I am especially filled with lofty dreams of white sand and clear aquamarine water. 

I may or may not require the ability to legally leave the country, but being able to go outlet malling would make me feel a lot less left out.  Hearing tales of the oversold goods and not quite par designer clothing have built up high expectations over the years.  If Gap miss mates and odd size clothing isn't enough, there's always Trader Joe's...

 Upon further reflection, it's probably best the drinking age is 21 in America, maybe by then I'll have a real job and will be able to afford the wholesale liquor and snack treats in outrageous quantities I so long for.

HOLY CRUD

Gentle Readers,

    I came to the sad realization that I missed Thing of Stuff's 1 year anniversary!  However, that being said, I've been happy, making money, and enjoying time in a healthy relationship so I'm not too upset.  Last night, I made dino sprinkle cupcakes just for fun, luring Tim to come over with the prospect of helping me.  He got to learn what I'm like in the kitchen.

Anyone that's baked with me before (very, very few people) know that I get into OCD beast mode and have to do everything myself.  He came at the right time because only icing and decorating was left and it's much easier to share knives than an electric beater. 
     As you have probably figured out, things have been very domestic lately.  I would never lie to the anonymous internet, I've been watching a lot of anime and reading...books.  You can take the nerd out of school, but shiiiiiiiiiiiet, I forgot how delicious reading is.  14 year old boy adventure novels are way too addicting.  Also, I may have started reading a certain book series turned major HBO series but I'm only past the title book's prologue so I'll wait to join the fantasy masses and blog about it.

(Paint skilllllz, there was no way I was going to draw the throne with all those blades and hilts)   
     Also, with consideration to catching up on things that sound like things I'd like but have never bothered to check out: Invader Zim.  Last night, my boyfriend flipped out that I had never seen it.  Yes, I developed this affectation of quirkiness without witnessing even 5 minutes of semi-spastic, detailed humor.  Needless to say, I was hooked after the first few minutes. 

 I think I can see where I fit in.

     It's funny, I have about 4 unfinished posts and even some inked doodles good to go, but I just need to get my butt in gear.  Happy 1 year, and thanks for lurking!

I am a Fashion

     Welp, it's all over now.  All the crazy, stressful, amazing things last week have come to a close.  The only reminder is my shocking pink hair.  It's most definitely strange having everyone looking at me because it's 3 different shades of pink, 2 shades of purple, and my face is framed with an amethystine shadow.  Of course, I'm still rockin' the asymmetry though.  Celebrity hair, as my brother is calling it, is a huge time commitment but the whole legit fashion photo shoot experience was dreamy.  Not gonna lie, I feel like Nicki Minaj or something every time I leave my house now.

      Granted, I feel so exquisitely out of place in the Valley.  In an area seething with long haired high school girls and G'ed up skater hoodrats, this semi-permanent high fashion statement is kind of hard to cover up.  Oh well, you only live once.  My advice to any other amateur hair models out there, if you allow them to do what ever the hell they want, you must have the confidence to rock what they give you. 
     The best part about having short hair is that you can't see it around your face.  I am continually shocked when I look in mirrors, especially all the times I've gone hard in the paint Sunday onward.  Staggering to the ladies' room and being greeted by Strawberry Shortcake's avant-garde emo hipster cousin in the mirror is certainly novel!
     Despite the occasional bout of slight self-consciousness, posing to M83's Midnight City and getting more make-up poofed on my face under the bright lights will be a story to tell the grand-babies for sure. 

     I start working again tomorrow, so it's back to buisness and anecdotes and such!  Happy summer to my fellow university-goers!

Friday the 13th

I don't totally believe in superstition, but it's only 1:30 and shit's been fucked pretty hard already.
     My English final was this morning at 8:30, of course before I went into the exam I had a pee break so I wouldn't have to be uncomfortable while writing.  I now know why my handicapped washroom had two locks, halfway through my hover-pee, the door bust open and some blonde chick started screaming.  I yelled,"OH MY GOD!" and ran to close the door, clam out like a baus.
     Needless to say, it was not how I'd hoped to start my morning.  At least my english final felt really good.  Yes, it was mostly bullshit, but at least it's done.
     Then I got to my last bus exchange, but I saw a familiar profile of my demon-ex, so I nonchalantly checked the bus schedule, read that a 20 minute wait was in order, so I just kept walking.  I walked through some back alleys, then through the first park (Seylynn/Bridgeman), then over the bridge, then a block farther over and all the way up this Brooksbank trail then I was beside the highway, so I went down a hyena path death-ravine and up and down and up again until I came out at Lieutet.  I was only two blocks away from my boyfriend's house, but wearing black tights, a mini skirt, leather Steve Madden fashion combat boots, a three-quarter length sleeve tee, and a pink and gray flannel in the pelting sun kind of made me sweat off a dress size.  For the good of the relationship, I walked to Grand Boulevard to take a safe bus.

    Not wanting to wait another god damn twenty minutes, I continued walking.  Once I could see the mall, there was no point not finishing the job.  I braved hordes of high schoolers and elementary school children on lunch to eventually get home as of 15 minutes ago.
     All this to possibly avoid a panic attack.

MERRY FRIDAY THE 13th, may your day be more felicitous than mine.

Update: Legit lost 2 pounds of water weight from that walk.  

SHIIIIIEEEEEEEET

That moment when you realize you're getting completely made over, finishing exams, having a photo shoot, then seeing Lil B in concert all in the same week.

There is so much school to get through first.  I have a legit post for another procrastination study break but for now I really need to write this 6 page final essay.  harumph.

Berst of Terms

In the words of Berks, "It wers the berst of terms, it wers the werst of terms".  Indeed, my Gerseberms-loving friend, it truly is.

     After a few very disappointing weekends, this just passed, especially Friday, filled me with such happiness.  First off, my avant-garde  style caught the eye of a stylist in need of a model for a hair styling competition!  I firmly believe that ANYONE can model with enough make up and directed posing.  Soon, I will be living proof.  Also I will most likely have bizarrely coloured hair, fingers crossed for super light cotton candy pink or mauve!
     Friday night was full of weird coincidences, friends from the past and present, and basically 3 very different events in one night.  The evening began at 6:20 and ended at 3 for me and I regret nothing.  Not even holding my best friend up while he peed in a very public area.

     Even my love life is super cuuuuuteeee. Optimus Prime can transform into cake pans now, so he gets to congratulate Tim on a very recent achievement as soon as the kitchen is clean (who needs to write final essays that are worth 45% of the total course grade in advance?).  The only thing really wrong right now is having to think about final exams.  I am way too excited about this hair modelling venture and the impending freedom of summer to  have to worry about things.  Even with 4 months of summer ahead of us, September waits ominously just in my peripherals; we may get into why depending on how distraught I get as plans formulate.

     For now, let us all enjoy the longer days, exciting nights, and the irrepressible rebirth that sprouts up from Spring. 

ch-ch-changes

     A few weeks ago, we went out to celebrate a friend's birthday.  It was nice to see some people from high school I seldom keep in contact with.  Knowing me, my primary incentive was to get a bit buzzed.  I had a bottle of coffee with Bailey's, Kahlua, and Peppermint Schnapps in my purse and had to make many escapes to the bathroom to supplement the pitcher of sangria.  After we had paid our bills at the pre-gaming spot, an old friend and I ventured forth into the dark of the urban night on our first adventure in years as an epic duo.

    After he did his thing in a brick alcove, he noticed me having some trouble with my milky brown concoction.

     We all know the alcohol yell.  Anyway, it's funny how easy it can be to reconnect and settle back into roles in the friend group like no time has passed.  These are very special friends.  I always feel so refreshed to hear the words, "this is why I love you! God, I missed you!"
     It got me thinking about how much I've changed over the last few years, or haven't, I suppose.  Sometimes I wish I could talk to myself as a protective  guardian from the future.  First off I think 15 year old me would chew me out for getting jealous of my friend going to the Ke$ha concert, and being able to identify with the longing for an "excuse to dress like a whore and be covered in glitter".
     After that, we'd talk seriously about some decisions in her life and I would urge her to rid herself of some dead weight.  Most importantly, I'd reassure her that everything will work out.

     You see, gentle reader, I'm going to let you in on a little secret about my personal life as I feel like most humans can relate.  A lot of changes have occurred in me between now and the last two years of high school, when we begin to become functioning human beings.  Often times I feel like a completely different person, and not necessarily in a good way.
      Feeling like a part of me has died is rather disconcerting, considering she was the whimsical and irrepressibly free spirited component of my psyche that radiated contagious joy.  There's been a bit of a battle royale waging between parts of my brain for a while now, a most viscous cycle of self doubt and loathing only to lead to more trouble for no real reason.

    It's taken me a while to revive myself, melodrama aside, that freak is still totally alive and kickin'.  Although subdued, she can be coaxed out through obscure nerd things, artsy shit, and pervasive optimism.  Yes, dear reader, this free drink snagging, often shamelessly self promoting and self deprecatingly proud weirdo's self confidence fluctuates like a chubby 12 year old girl wearing a bikini only because she knows wearing a tankini will alert everyone on the beach to her lack of self esteem (can you guess who the funny fat nerdy kid was in elementary school?). 
     It was only while flailing through the alleyways of Gastown in the wee hours of the morning when I realized that like it or not, I'm the same random girl I've always been.  I often hide how marvellous I think the world is because cynicism is an easy form of humour that helps sensitive people avoid being hurt or disappointed because no one takes them seriously.
     Maybe this is where I evolve into my all-encompassing adult stage?

        (my baby tee has long necks on it)

      I think Cali Swag District said it best, "now you just do you, and Ima do me", "All my bitches love it, you ain't fuckin' with my dougie".