Green Winter

This is my Diary Twitter Tumblr.

It is so cold at my house in LOS ANGELES, that as I was taking it off to take a shower, my bra hung off my nipples.

WHHAASSSSSSSSSUUUPPPP

Tonight I flirted with a guy with a mohawk who sold me a smoothie. I was wearing my Camp Funtime* hoodie, leggings, tennies and valentine's day socks pulled up over the leggings at the ankles. I hadn't washed my hair in about three days. I think he liked me.

*shit, I mean Camp Tunfime.

A Blog Enema

I thought of what I was going to say in this post last night as I was not falling asleep, but I forgot (given that may computer was 2 inches from my head, I should've just written it last night. but that would've distracted from the 3 hour deep concentration process of attempting to fall asleep. and in my excitement I might've knocked my computer off my bed, which would result in certain death for my STILL NAMELESS computer).

The general gist of it: now that I have written again, and recognized this as an acceptable alternative activity to sweating profusely walking the same 25 blocks over and over or sitting in my room sweating not-as-much, but itching like mad, searching for the source of this itchiness and watching TV on the internet, my life's possibilities have increased by 50%.

There are a few posts I had thought of while I was finishing school, but I did not write them because- did I tell you?- I was writing a BOOK. Then there was a post or two I thought of when I was back at home, but I was busy working at a CAMP.

So, despite that fact that Carrie has clearly given up on this because she's
a.) ashamed
b.) grown-up
c.) a cuntwad
I have not given up (and I gave that bitch first billing).

In other news: I still haven't found my fucking scissors, I babysat for some kids yesterday who asked me a lot about heaven, their mom some kid we saw a picture of had brown skin, the 4 year old said she doesn't really know how to sleep and told her brother she'd let him die, and whose preferred word for back side was "heiny"--who the fuck says "heiny"?!*

so expect the some seriously delayed posts to finally be revealed.

*besides Austin Powers, obv.
(I couldn't find the actual clip :( forgive me)
(also, apparently heiny is spelled hiney).

I'm just like GaGa

Carrie and I have been in the same city for one week and 1/2 of one day.
I was worried she would be alarmed by how much I have changed.
She's taken it all very well, and luckily, she hasn't noticed one major, throbbing difference in my life.

I'll tell her when I'm ready.


(PS see this entry to understand why there have been no posts--I am not funny since I graduated.
Also, I lost my scissors, they're fucking huge and purple and I've looked everywhere and I'm going to buy new ones then find them. UGH, don't you (3-4) guys SEE how BUSY I am?!)

The Lives Some People Lead

Nice dress, Carrie.
PS it's probably the one in the stripes. Who looks like a chipmunk.
Dibs on the ball player when you're done with him.

Polluted Gene Pool

My 23-year-old sister has decided that it is a good idea to MAKE HER OWN REUSABLE SANITARY NAPKINS.
Given that my family loves to share, over the past week my mother has sent me emails about this process. Why is my mother involved? Because my graduate student sister is making them at my parents' house. Which naturally leads to my father deciding to name the pads.
Gems like:
Jezebleed
Pillow-crotch (this is, of course, an ode to my father's invention, Pillowhead, which requires its own post)
Ferbie (I don't know where this one came from. Which is why it freaks me out the most)
The Futon
Hemer Dam
Blood Angels
Lady Wolfpack

Additionally, according to my mom,"[They] actually made much better prototypes with [her] favorite being the one where we just stuffed a cotton sock with the liners, attached "wings" sewed snaps and voila! the lazy girl's hillbilly hygiene holster."

The next part is not for the faint of heart/those that don't care for (more) unnecessary information (ie if you don't want to know about what goes on in my sister's vagina):
My sister was just bananas about her diva cup, an item that, as Carrie would know, is indispensable to any Martist, and thus allowed my sister a respectable career path should her Phd in Library Sciences fail (I don't know what it is either).

When I asked my mom why my sister was replacing her beloved d.c., I got the response:
"well, when she chose to get the iud, they said she should not use the diva
cup because when she takes the diva cup out and if she does not truly
release the suction she can yank the IUD. who would have thunk! (is thunk
the sound of the pressure release of the diva cup)"?
This is the woman who raised me.
This + guy who makes up 7+ names for a wad of cotton sewn into an old sheet x (nature + nurture)=why I am the way that I am.

Now you know more about my sister's reproductive hygiene than anyone (including her) should.
The above (all of it) should explain my past and future crude posts and vulgarity in general. I don't know Carrie's excuse.

SpRiNg BrEaK!!!!

Things I do while doing work:
• Look at facebook
• Rummage through my backpack
• Check my email
• Check my other email
• Check my other email that I made in sixth grad and only gets messages from facebook and my landlords
• Check facebook
• Look behind me to make sure no one can see me on facebook
• Think about what I look like from behind
• Look behind me to make sure no one is looking at me from behind
• Check my phone for messages
• drink
• See if anyone is on gchat.
• Avoid people on gchat
• Sigh
• Forget my deskmates are there
• Stare at my deskmates
• Rummage through papers
• Organize papers
• Look at my syllabi
• Go to the bathroom to pee
• Drink
• Make emergen c
• Hear a sound behind me, see if anyone is there
• Nobody is there
• Go to the bathroom as if I’m going to pee, but really just wash my hands and fix my hair
• Stare out the window
• Open the window
• Close the window
• Open multiple documents at once and move between them, so that later when I am looking for valuable information, I have no idea which document I saved it under. Especially because they’re all saved under have wildly uninformative titles like ‘cock-a-block’, ‘collection’, ‘that huge book’ [which does not consist of notes on that huge book], and ‘LESBIANS.’
• Make a calendar
• Google map and trimet [public transportation system] the routes for places I plan on going in the future
• Not believe trimet when it tells me I have to take 3 buses, wait 14 minutes and walk for 27 minutes
• Scour the trimet website for a way to prove them wrong
• Scour sesamestreet.org for points that prove my thesis without me having to do anything.
• Floss
• drink
• If I am wearing boots, and have my period, stick tampons in my boots. Subtle and prepared.
• Think about what I look like form the side
• Worry that people see me form the side
• Write one sentence
• Take a break
• Check my own blog
• Google terms loosely related to my thesis
• Google things not at all related to my thesis
• Look up books for my thesis when I should be writing it
• Check facebook
• Look behind me
• Make emergen c
• Stare at my books
• Drink
• Change positions
• Change amount of clothes I am wearing
• Do my hair
• Put on chapstick
• Take 3 advil
• Take a “nap”
• Get water
• Take pills
• Check what color seasonal socks my deskmate has on
• Make extensive outlines
• Write lists like this
• Make myself notes about the things I have to read/should check out or do
• send myself emails about the things I have to read/should check out or do
• google internships
• google jobs
• google google on accident because I’m using the google box in the corner and thinking of using google
• delete my internet history because I’m upset I’ve gone to facebook so many times
• open a new document where I will put together all the things I need
• open about seven more of those document and copy and paste the other stuff and not know which one is the most recent version
• forget words
• google words I think the word is like to try to find it
• listen to music
• go on ichat
• regret going on ichat
• regret listening to music
• get annoyed that the kid behind me is so creepy
• forget I’m wearing earrings
• forget I’m not wearing earrings
• play with the zippers on my boots (if I am wearing those boots)
• read the chain mail my grandmother sent me
• take my shoes off
• worry that my feet smell, and put my shoes back on
• chew gum
• fidget
• rock back and forth
• puke everywhere.

Next week: things I'd rather be doing when I'm doing work!!
AND A SHOUT OUT TO MAH GURL MOCHI, HAPPY B-DAY BABY!! GET READY BOYZ, SHE'S 17, LET THE COUNTDOWN BEGIN, 365 MORE DAYS!!!!!!!! (If you're a minor, hit that shit now while you still can)

I have been planning.

Young Youssef, offspring of action star Vin Diesel and myself
Baby Artie, result of a sexual union between stopped-aging-15-years-ago-after-prematurely-aging* Tom Hanks and myself
*this is not a reference to the movie Big 1988's generational jump, 104 minute metaphor for puberty.
that would be really lame.
Orglof, freak spawn of ultimate world superpower Oprah and myself
Albin, the albino child resulting from the time I fucked the stoic Keanu Reeves
Preston, what came out of me after Marilyn Manson came into me
Lil lil, product of a whirlwind affair with the formerly lil Bow Wow
BangBaby, UR DREAM CUM TRU.

Outerspace, Innerspace

An Unprecedented Peek into the Alien Life Form's Unmatched Power and Superiority of Intellect and the (lack of) Strength of the Human Mind

I have recently happened upon a real, completely unexaggerated account of one boy's experience being abducted by aliens. It is a fascinating, informative, in depth look at what happens inside the spaceship, and I would welcome your interpretations, as I have many, but none can truly be verified (the boy is currently in an unpenetrable state of denial, shock, guilt and abnormal pleasure, which has manifested itself in the forms of self-isolation, uncontrolled diarrhea, unabashed humping of those around him [an action which current scientist have termed "dry-raping"], and frequent fluctuations between crying spells and toddler-grade tantrums).

Please do not be alarmed by what follows; the unadulterated account of an out of this world experience:

i had to get naked
well i had to wear a gown
well i should start from the beginning
i had to fast two hours before this test
so i set my alarm for 7 AM and got in shots before i had to fast**
so i'm feeling pretty nuts already then i get there,
i'm naked, and i'm standing against this board
and i get a shot class of these little crystals, and one of water
and they say put the crystals in your throat, then drink the water,
but you can't throw up or burp (even though these things MAKE you have to)
then the board leans you back and
there is a cup of barium (very thick radioactive metal in liquid form)
that you have to finish in ten seconds while the pictures are being taken
then the table rotates and there is another cup there

then they tell you are fine and that you're a nut job

**editor's note: Apparently the boy was provided with his own bedroom on the spaceship. It was furnished with a bunk bed, an ikea dresser, a small inflatable chair (with matching ottoman), and an alarm clock with nature, ocean and wind-through-the-leaves-and-grass sound settings.

As part of his treatment in the intense therapy program the boy is, as ordered by the court, matriculated into; the boy's therapist has recommended that he find a creative outlet to better cope with and understand "the event" as they have taken to calling it. Thus, the boy has created this website, the research and writing of which has slowly become the only second activity to provide any comfor to the boy since the event-- the first being time spent stroking a worn and unpleasantly sticky groundhog stuffed animal.

please support this poor child's pathetic, sad, miserable undertakings; it is all that is left of his shattered, grossly distorted world and indelibly perverted "life".

Portrait of the Menstrual Artist as a Young Woman

GOD FORBID SOMETHING MAKES US THINK ABOUT PERIOD BLOOD
LIKE SERIOUSLY IT SHOULD BE AMENDED TO THE 10 COMMANDMENTS - 'THOU SHALT NOT THINK ABOUT PERIOD BLOOD'
PERIOD BLOOD IS SO GROSS
PERIOD BLOOD IS SO REPULSIVE, IN FACT, THAT BEING INDIRECTLY REMINDED OF SOMETHING THAT EXISTS TO SOP IT UP (A PAD) REALLY FUCKS UP MY DAY
I AM SHUDDERING RIGHT NOW
ACTUALLY I'M GOING BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN SHUDDERING AND LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY BECAUSE, LIKE FECES BUT SLIGHTLY LESS SO, PERIOD BLOOD (AND BY EXTENSION, SANITARY PADS) CAN BE FUNNY. I'M GONNA GO MAKE A MEME NOW
OKAY I'M SHUDDERING AGAIN
OKAY ACTUALLY I'M GOING BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN SHUDDERING AND THINKING OF iPAD/TAMPONS/BLOOD PUNS.
OKAY I'M CRINGING NOW.
THE THOUGHT OF OWNING A PRODUCT -- *I'M GOING TO GO THE LONG WAY AND CALL IT THE APPLE TABLET BC I DON'T EVEN THINK I CAN HANDLE TYPING THE P-WORD AGAIN WITHOUT HURLING ALL OVER MY LAPTOP* -- THAT MAKES ME THINK ABOUT MENSTRUATION IS SO, SO HORRIFYING THAT I'M NOT SURE WHETHER OR NOT I WILL ACTUALLY BUY ONE.
WILL YOU?
APPLE REALLY FUCKED THIS ONE UP. THEY MIGHT AS WELL HAVE CALLED IT THE iBANDAID. OR THE iDIAPER. OR THE iTAMPON.


I never write about anything serious here, but like, seriously, shut up you fucking babies and get a life

You Guys

"Sarah, what r u doing over there?"
"Oh u know, startin' a blog. But I have to finish rolling this spliff first."
"Hehe."

To the 5 people who read this: Just refer to Marika and me as the "other" bloggers from now on

I am searching for the perfect bra. The quest has consumed my every thought. It has taken over my entire life.

My stumble thinks I am a middle-aged, baby crazy, Russian speaking, children's literature aficionado who gets a kick out of lists of bizarre and funny pictures, sincerely appreciates the beauty in a photo of a sunset and is touched by art made by depressed cyberkids who use only red, black and white in their pieces, needs access to at least 5-6 libraries of e-books, with a recreational interest in alternative medicine.

I'm mostly just concerned because this came up.
What's so weird is that the only subjects I checked as my interests on stumble are bodybuilding, alcohol and the stock market economy.
The Internet sees right through me, a direct line into my soul.

In 2010 I'm going to start doing this thing where people text me stuff like, "Sup?" or "What're you up to?" and I'm going to respond, every time, "Guess"