Thursday, December 8, 2011

Psycho Leopard Cocaine Party!

So... it's my birthday. I am officially twenty years old and all wrinkly. Ew. Omg, Botox party at my house guys! You bring the needles, I'll bring the plastic surgeon!

Anyway, beside having the extreme weight of no longer being a teenager on my shoulders (I have responsibilities- ew!), and constantly defending my stance on still being nineteen (but I'm not, sadface), I had a pretty decent birthday. Last night I had to stay up and type up a paper for my Chicano Literature class so I had the change to celebrate my birthday while writing about the Chicano movement and spamming Lady Gaga on twitter to tweet me happy birthday. Yes. You read that right. Don't hate. #hardcoremonster

Well, while finishing that paper and preparing my extra credit presentation for art history, I was attacked by all of these well-wishers and happy messages, which was pretty nice. Generally, when people attack me, they're mad 'cause I told them the truth and they didn't like it. Haters.

So I went to sleep and I slept. I had a great birthday sleep, thank-you-very-much.

Then I was woken up by my overzealous mother giving me birthday-hugs and presents; honestly, I could get used to that. Presents when you wake up? Sheer awesomeness. Then throughout the day, I was spammed by everyone I ever met wishing me happy stuff and fun stuff, and hoping I had a great day. It was great! Thanks, you guys! :D My phone kept vibrating and it was so awesome, because I kept checking it during class, and I expected stuff to happen. It was great.

After that, Vicki and I went to go eat, where we stuffed our faces and planned for my bday celebration on Saturday, just me and my hoodrats, and what exactly we were going to do and such. She didn't get to buy me cheesecake, but it's okay; the opportunity will present itself once more. Cheesecake!

However, I still cannot believe that fact that I'm old. I'm expecting to shrivel up like a prune and have to wear glasses and start making racist comments, 'cause I'm old and senile. I'm like twenty. That's like sixty! Woe is me! My childhood is over! *insert dramatic pose here*

I expected to end the day unwinding, binging on Cherry Garcia whilst watching "American Horror Story" with Coug over skype, but she has to study and shit, so I guess I'll watch Grimm, eat popcorn and read Andy Warhol's philosophy. We are currently discussing alternative timings in which to do this during the weekend. : )

And thus, ends a birthday in the life of moi.

P.S. Happy. Strangely enough.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Nothing Special!

There isn't much to say today, other that I'm writing this instead of working on my three essays, while the deadline creeps closer and closer and closer. If fact, one is practically nipping on my heels.

Well, 'wrimo was a total bust. I was good up until the second-ish week, where I decided to focus a bit on my schoolwork. What a fucking mistake. Not only did I get nothing done on my novel, I had to do homework! Bleh! I did get farther than I usually do; 23,000 words. It gives me confidence to keep writing and that yes, I can write decently and my dream is not a total waste of time.

In other news, I was a poet for a whole three weeks. I am currently pursuing this, and I shall update on how well this goes.

While procrastinating on my Art History essay on Pop Art, I am, ironically (or coincidentally?) reading "The Philosophy of Andy Warhol," by Andy Warhol. It's pretty interesting and I love it! I also bought "The Andy Warhol Diaries" which chronicles about a decade in Warhol's life. For those of you who do not know who he is, it is called Google. Please use it.

Note: It's this guy:

I love this picture, by the way. The world does fascinate me; what with its sheer stupidity and hatred for anyone who doesn't fit a certain image. Oh wait. Sorry, my misanthropic leanings are showing.

Anyway, today I also went to Walmart. That was a bad idea. Despite dealing with a bunch of annoying people who apparently do not know how to drive a shopping cart, I was also afraid I'd run into a whole bunch of booty-bouncing women, with questionable hygiene, bouncing around randomly through Walmart, with a guy behind them, reading a shopping list. If you do not know what I am talking about, consider yourselves lucky and please for the love of a possibly non-existent god, leave it at that. For those of you who are so morbidly curious, please go to YouTube and search "Mr. Ghetto" and "Walmart."

Prepare to be traumatized.

In other news, I have learned more about the city I live in. I went to this secondhand bookstore in Downtown Los Angeles, and oh my fucking god. It's called "The Last Bookstore" and it's like the Holy Grail of bookstores. If Jesus was real and read books, he'd go to that bookstore. Just... if you don't live in LA, and are ever there, you must go. If I had my way, that place would be a national landmark.

Betty and I went there on Friday after class, and yeah... I spent like fifteen on three books. Just adding to my ever-expanding library, that if it gets any bigger, I will have a fire hazard up in this bitch. Seriously; my poor bookcase cannot handle any more books! Not only is it collapsible, it's also strained to it's limits! If there was a fire, I'd be trapped by a burning wall of fire. Insert fire-y metaphor here. It's bad. I don't even have any more space to put in a new bookshelf, damn it!

Speaking of Betty, she's part of a group that runs Future Retro Gamer, a website run by gamers, that reviews games and well, they review games in very humorous ways. They're hilarious! Check them out here! And here's their Facebook Page. They're great!

I also decided that on random occasions, I will start posting some poetry on here, so you guys could give me a review, and stuff. Assuming that my readers actually exist and aren't just a fiction of my imagination. That, and possibly comments, comics and random pictures I take on other people's cameras, because mine sucks now that it refuses to work.

Maybe I should buy a new one?

I must also buy a new bookshelf and shove it into my already-crowded room. How do I do this? I need a carpenter, quick! Fuck. I suck at anything handyman-ish. It's times like these where I wish I was all rustic America and wrestled bears and killed moose and wolves with my bare hands like Sarah Palin. Then I realize what I just thought/wished, slap myself, and go watch American Horror Story.

P.S. A "q" is not a "g." Sorry to burst your bubble.

P.S.S. I want ice cream.

P.S.S.S. Be my friend, damn it! I'm like the nicest person, like, ever. : )