mot tpsy, or tipsy, whatever its cool...

haaaloooooo

i am gonna have the best wedding ever and marriage and life of my whole life!

i think i am living up to a rule from blog awards even though its not a rule.

YOU GUYS are so awesome. ya know. not just the champagne talkin. its true.

im just so real right now.

i was engaged up pirate style and n ow it looks like we gonna get married boat style. old crusty boat. im gonna walk the plank to matrimony yo.

im gonna nuptual! if nupping was a verb that would be an awesome pun .

anyway bye bye.

and...PUBLISH!!! t=yes.

LL im calling this a comeback! ya heard!!!

Okay, so long time no post. Whatever though. Life has been B to the Oring and I don't want to drag you guys into that with me.

I actually did attempt to write 3 updates over the last several weeks but all 3 got deleted in blackberry post button error/intenet failure hell. I post from my blackberry most of the time and I have the same situation as Mitch Hedberg did when he thought of a joke and the pen was too far away so he decided it wasn't that funny. If I start a post and get several paragraphs in, feel all good, and then plink! Its gone! I just kind of leave that to fate, which I don't believe in but much like christian and jewish holidays I will take it if it gets me out of work!!

So, anywhoo. You know you'd do the same. Come on. Yes you would. Don't be judgey.

Judgey McJudger!!!!

if this post doesn't delete itself accidentilly then it will prove that the blog gods want you to continue to see the real me and not my pathetic attempts to be witty, cohesive or in any way a mature or decent writer.

Hmmm...looks like its winning! Oh shit, I'm being superstisious. Oh well.

Judger.

Sea Turtle

So I haven't done any of the things on the "oh my blog" award list yet like I said I would (see previous blog). I think the main reason is because I felt embarrassed that I got confused and thought I was supposed to do them all and made a big stink about it. So silly right? But if I'm being honest (and that's the main reason I'm here, that and to have fun heheh) then I have to admit that that's the reason. Embarrassment has always baffled me. Why do we get so worked up about so many silly little inconsequential incidents? It's something I've always wanted to change or refuse to feel. Sometimes I'd even pretend I didn't feel it but isn't not admitting I'm embarrassed and being embarassed by my own embarrassment even sillier than getting embarrassed in the first place?

When I was 29 years old I was in a horrible relationship with a person who was completely wrong for me. I don't know what kept me there, probably fear and insecurity. While I learned some very valuable lessons from it, it was still a very painful and unhappy time in my life.

A dear friend of mine named Leda, who's like a sister to me, got married that same year. Her wedding was in PR and I attended with MR.Wrong and hoped beyond hope that it would be a good time. Leading up to the whole thing there had already been a lot of uglyness between he and i that told me it may not.

Puerto Rico was amazing as was my friends wedding but things went terrible between my then boyfriend and I. At one point we were all on a snorkeling boat together. I'd never been snorkeling before and I was excited on that beautiful day but then I was very dissapointed to see nothing bu murky empty water everywhere we went. On the flight over I had seen that sea turtles were native to the area and I don't know what makes me do things like this but I basically "faked" that I'd seen one. Everyone was completely unconvinced, especially my then boyfriend who always took any opportunity he could to make me feel stupid or small. In reaction to that I became even more adamant, even as the guys who ran the boat told me how rare it was. I pointed in a fake direction where I had supposedly seen it. Pathetic. And hilarious now but at the time it was just a heartbreaking moment for me. Not because I had told a silly little lie but because I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that I couldn't even come clean. I was so sick of my guy constantly making me feel worthless (and me permitting him to by staying with someone who'd ever treat me that way intentionally or make me that unhappy.) I was ashamed that I couldn't talk to my friends about how unhappy I was and how alone I felt. I was living a lie, to everyone, including myself.

The best part about this story is how it ends (or continues)! About 6 months or so later I started telling people piece by piece. First I told my sister about it. I told her how I couldn't watch Finding Nemo without feeling sick inside and riddled with guilt about my lie. She LOVED it! She said I had pulled a total Candy.She got so much joy from my ridiculous move and even more from my ridiculous guilt over it. She vowed not to tell but she would tease me in cute ways like calling me up and just saying "sea turtle" then hanging up the phone. Once I even thought she was giving my story away to Leda but actually she was delighting in the silly lie further. She told Leda that actually it was not surprising that I hadn't made "that big a deal" about it because our family had an extensive knowledge about sea turtles and quite a lot of experience with them.

It was brilliant.Carly's response was love and playfulness because Carly LOVES me. And the same would be true of every other person I confessed to right down to my sweet Leda. I never told Mr. Wrong and thankfully we broke up not too long after the incident but I did find my Mr.Right and he laughs at it and loves it as much as everyone else did.

So I guess it made me realize that when people love you they also love the ridiculous things you do to embarrass yourself. It's actually a plus even. And really those are the things that connect us as human beings. Those flaws and silly slips. I believe that those are the only people whose opinions should matter anyway. The people who we love and most importantly those who love us back. That and one's own ability to laugh at themselves and silly things we all do.

P.S: My Beloved and I went snorkeling in St.John last year and I saw 3 sea turtles! And this time I aint lyin. Though I did have to pull him over and show him proof. Heheheh ;)

Doin As I'm told

Yay! Thanks chessa aka rocknrollgourmet.blogspot.com sending me the "oh my blog" a thingalee-do-dad award. I usually just hear crickets over here while I type my diatribes but now I have a lil project and I feel some outside forces going on.

My blog is more like me dancing naked to music in my apt with my big huge window wide open for people to see in ("dancing naked" MIGHT be code for many other shameful activities). But now, in the spirit of science and experimentation I will take on the four tasks given. The next four blogs will show the results.

And now ve vait....

Dowry of a so called Rockstar

I realize that I could lose a lot of street cred here (and maybe I'm delusional for thinking I ever had any) but I am quite the crier. Whilst I am thankful that I am not the girl who cries during sex or cries if I drop my ice cream cone (anymore) or after a bad haircut I am, unfortunately, still pretty weepy for someone who curses and acts as bigmouthed and macho as I often do.

I started thinking about this the other night after watching "Sense and Sensibility" to help me sleep. I love Jane Austen. Mostly for her commentary on the ills of society and how they particularly effect women. Many of these ills still plague us even in our supposedly "progressive" culture. And I think Jane Austen often gets that unfair consideration amongst her fellow female writers as being some kind of Vagina Monolouges bullshit when really she writes as a woman, but not soley of a woman's struggles with society. That said, she does tend to end her books with some sort of marriage or double marriage or ridiculous fairytale of some sort. This is the part that embarrasses me. I actually found myself crying when Mr.Ferrars (aka hugh grant) finally proposed to Miss Dashwood (aka emma thompson) despite my knowing how silly an ending I was watching.

See, I did grow up a girl, and despite my accumulated knowledge of the ups and downs, untold truths and down right horrors of many marriages I still can't help but find it sweet and romantic when love conquers all and two people proudly show their affection to a society who tells us everyday that we may not find true love. Maybe we can find marriage of convienence or as some sort of status symbol but not a true love marriage. Only gay marriage remains romantic and that's because they want so badly to be allowed to marry the one they love, out loud and proud.

I think the main reason I cry over this type of thing is also remembering the sad loss of innocence i experienced when i realized that a loving marriage is not a given. Its like I'm mourning old fantasies.

Life is the good and the bad. Its full of mixed blessings. And we will, some of us, like me, never give up on true love. That doesn't mean life won't have its way with us and work overtime to prove to us that expectations or desires are dangerous and ambitious to have. It tries to humiliate us into submission but the strong will spit in its face even when that means spitting in ones own. one of the problems with all the "progress" we make as a society is that sometimes in the shuffle we lose a sense of satisfaction in simple and sweet things. love and friendships and family get relegated to the bottom rungs when there's money and power or popularity to be pursued. Glory has changed with what we glorify and the old mainstream is slowly becoming the new counter culture thanks to a backlash big enough to make Jim Carrey's head spin. i write that hoping that you remember how audiences turned on him once he got too successful for his own good. he has made a few stinkers lately to boot but we wont count those.

Anyway, I feel that after many years of sitting at its alter i've finally found true love with a man who understands me and loves me in the most natural, beautiful way. So why am i still crying? i guess because despite my unbroken faith i still live in a contemporary society that tells me to leave one foot out the door. A world where longing for romance is unrespectable. Even knowing its unrealistic I'd like to be allowed to long for it openly without getting shite! Longing for a promotion and botox and shoes is fine. Such bullshit! What happened to girls being boy crazy?

Rant and ROAR!!

I refuse, absolutely 100% refuse to let anyone make me feel bad about myself any longer. Not on my watch. See, here's my problem: I'm a sweet person. Countless people who've known me have paid me this so called compliment but here's the warning I have to issue:

yes, I am sweet. I am loving and I value love above all things. I will go to great lengths to nuture and bring peace to the people I love. I will profess my love and wear my heart on my sleeve. I will hug and kiss my friends and loved ones and give them an open ear and all the understanding I have. I work hard, very hard, to be a good person and be open to others points of view...BUT do not think for one minute that if you take my sweetness for granted or put me down or treat me as an underling or carelessy that I will stand idly by.

I can be overly giving of myself, I get it from my mother, but I also have some of my father in me. I have a stubborn need to feel appreciated and respected. I have degraded myself in the past but surviving those experiences has only served to make me stronger and more uncompromising in my need for reciprocity or at the very least tolerance. It bothers me that I sometimes allow people to make me feel bad when deep down, despite my many imperfections, I know I am a good soul. And I know the souls of my loved ones are good too. That's why I know that this is my job more than anyone elses. It's my job to remember not to try to live up to anyones expectations of me but my own. I have nothing to prove to anyone but myself. And in a weird way that means embracing my limitations as I try to work through them and continue towards my own betterment. I want to be the best person I can be. I want to be forgiving of others and myself.

I am a complex and contradictory person in many ways and i know i am far from perfect. Sweet people can get trampled. Despite that I'm gonna stay sweet and I refuse to let anything turn me into a bitch on wheels BUT for my own protection I will need to stuff flowers in my ears against the criticisms others have of me. Those who might, even if it's without malice, inadvertently make me doubt myself. Love you all but (covering ears) la la la la la la la!

With love,

C

Ghandi was The Bee's Knees!

India. Into:

I've just returned from India. My first trip abroad, using my first ever passport. It was an incredible and overwhelming experience which I am even now still absorbing and making heads or "tales" of.
I told myself that when I finally did travel I'd like to really go somewhere. With the encouragement and well traveled enthusiasm of my sweet man I was supported in this endeavor and it happened.
India, from what little I saw of it, seems to be a place of juxtapositions. It's a place where beauty and filth collide and get tangled up in eachother. You can find yourself feeling awe and nausea from moment to moment.

It seems like it would be very hard, as an outsider and an american, to truly feel like a part of the Indian culture. Many of the people there are struggling in ways we will never know. That's not to say that people there don't seem happy or lively, au contriar, but they definately see us westerners as a financial opportunity in a place of few. While I can't hold it against anyone, it did dissapoint me to find it so difficult to bond with anyone aside from the wealthier Indians. Two weeks is such a short time, I'm sure more time and familiarity would help but I still found it evident that there would have to be a great deal of skeptism in the initial mix of mixings, before a genuine freindship based on friendship alone could be achieved. And I say that on both sides because I'm sure there is a great deal of exploitation that arises when westerners come to India and see the people as a fetish or a curiosity or worse:an opporunity to seem interesting in the mingling, rather than our fellow brothers and sisters.

For me the trip to India was a chance to feel new vibrations. I felt and remembered a lot of things I haven't conjured up for years if at all. It made me feel very helpless but also very introspective to have so little control over my environment.

On our last night before leaving Jaipur for Goa, a place to regroup, we sat on the steps at the largest movie theater there and watched the crowd. We had some time to kill before our train. I looked into the circus and noticed a man parked out front with his son. His son looked about 4 or 5 and was lying down in a stroller and wrapped in a blanket. The father was feeding him water and alternately both were begging to anyone who passed by. In between passers by they would rest and wait. This struck a huge nerve in me. We had seen lots of beggers everywhere in India. Many much more destitue and heartbreaking than these two. They were not the dirtiest nor the most poverty stricken people I'd seen. Yet for me this conjured up a very personal memory that I must have buried deep. I remembered being about 4 years old myself. My sister and I were in a double stroller.it was around dusk and getting darker as my mother pushed us beyond the enterance to the trailer park and out into the night. I noticed her putting her hand out. The desperation in her as she asked complete strangers she passed for a little money or food to feed us with. She and my father had seperated at the time and though it didn't last, things at that time were very uncertain. It connected me to the man and his little boy in a way I've never experienced before, this flashback. I felt less alien in that moment than any I experienced in India. I cried, and though I couldn't give anything to the two, for fear of encouraging begging to possibly corrupt degrees, in my heart I gave the two my deepest feelings of empathy and wishes for easier days.

I appreciate my good fortune and am very grateful to have overcome some of my more struggling days. I wish it were this easy for everyone. Love to all.

Namaste

sick in the what?

If i can't start a revolution, imagunna start an epidemic! Yes, that's a threat!

I'm sick. I've been fighting off something that I can't spell. Docs don't like to spell things for you and god knows we can't read their handwritting. I'm not even sure if I'm pronouncing it right because my doc had a very thick hebrewy accent. The quarter of me that is jewish veers more on the woody allen side than the yentil side. They were Seinfeld jews not fasting jews. So, I'm not sure if hebrew is the accent my doc had but he was at Beth Israels walk in clinic, so that's my guess. He also looked like sort of like yoda. Maybe a cross between yoda and the little man from Twin Peaks. For some reason that made me trust him more.

I went in on friday because I did not see any improvements in my severe sore throat after 4 days of bed rest. Got antibiotics and I seem to be improving but its soo damn slow!
I leave for India this friday! This sick wont let me act like the super excited spaz I want to be acting like. It's also my sweeties birthday tomorrow. And on top of that I feel that through my profound blogging I am making some real headway towards creating world peace and justice for underdogs!

So I write this blog to the powers that be! If there are any out there? And fuck if I know, but I'm not gonna leave any stone unturned! Get me better! Get me better so I can make the world a better place! I promise not to put it off this time! I'll get around to it. I swear. Do it for the underdogs, man!

Xo

-Me

polka dots....

Thinking a lot about Crazy lately. We all have some form of it. Some manifestation of our own crazy.
Drinks going in and getting farther and farther away from myself. Acting emotional but also feeling more and more removed from life. I can look down on it and criticize it objectively. Speak thoughts that normally would go from the front of my brain to the back of my brain and never be communicated.
Every morning after feels like recounting someone elses memories. It feels so foreign and unfair. To take responsibility for all the bad behavior when possessed. I hate to lose control. I hate that darkness inside me, with its singular point of view because it's never as bad as it seemed when you were drunk or high or overcome by your own chemicals. My chemicals cross the line sometimes. They hate lines. They like to scortch the earth. They like to wipe out the whole village. They like to burn down every wall and leave me, the true me, sitting in the ashes. It's as involuntary as a fart sometimes. That's how crazy feels sometimes. Like jumping off. Like surrender. like upset for the sake of entertainment in what would be an otherwise dull moment.
Maybe crazy is just the thing fighting comfort. Fighting death. Fighting ordinary and mundane. That's why Mr. Hyde always has more fun. Mr. Hyde is happy because he is unbound. He is free and uncensored and unconcerned with anything surrounding him. No future. No past. No consequenses. Just BLA GRRRR ROOOAAAR!
But he dies young. He never gets anywhere. He can't be maintained. There is no eco system for him. He is one dimensional.
I'm so glad my monster is only a small monster. An ankle biting little fucker. Not the beast some people have to wrestle with everyday. Nope. I am still I charge here. The cats only away every now and then.

not a robot

its so great! i feel like i am really embracing the silliness that i've always held back or reserved for the few in my close circle. I feel like i am more myself again. like i am free. i am living my life like a happy little girl! not a robot. not a robot. not a rObot.

Mali & Eva: The crazy ladies

Hotchi! Hotchi! Hotchi in ma poochi! I am very excited for cousin Michipoo to come visit from transylvania. he has been slutting it up out there for quite some time but now i think hes ready for some american slutting. my dumb boring daughter is clearly very upset that he is coming because my sister Eva and i are gonna put on our bar fly bimbo outfits and hit the town with him while she and her cousin Crystal stay home and sing songs and do chores. we may also have them sew a hot outfit for Mitchipoo but its much easier since he lost his arm. frankly i am sick of their whining and boring singing. I think there's a rick stenson concert in town soon!

"Craaaazy laaadies , you're the ladies with the thing craaaazy laaadies, drive me crazy with the thing...."

i'LL let you know if things get hot and heavy. dirty and wetty. my faaaavoritos!

-Mali

Lets weird each other out.....

i am not a fan of formalities. never have been. i appreciate traditions. as you know, i love holidays. ceremonies are the bee's knees! But formalities and repression suck a duck!

life can be so dull. why do we have to make it worse by conforming? why are we all hiding and dimming our own light?

I sit here with a severely sore throat and too much time on my hands and i beg of you all, PLEAD to you, please....Let's weird each other out.

BUZZ KILL BUT....

Marijuana Dangers

• Impaired perception
• Diminished short-term memory
• Loss of concentration and coordination
• Impaired judgement
• Increased risk of accidents
• Loss of motivation
• Diminished inhibitions
• Increased heart rate
• Anxiety, panic attacks, and paranoia
• Hallucinations
• Damage to the respiratory, reproductive, and immune systems
• Increased risk of cancer
• Psychological dependency

No more cookies for me!

Today on Planet Candy

Friendster is still up and kicking! Well, maybe not kicking because you really don't hear much about it these days BUT: I found my old blogs! I'm so glad they have been preserved via Friendster.
It's really crazy to see how much has changed and how much has stayed the same. One thing of note: I did fine myself a wonderful true love! An amazing partner and best friend. It only took me 31 and a half years! I also seem to have gotten more in touch with myself. More organized and less lost. But don't worry: STILL INSANE.

http://candymind.blog.friendster.com

Someday, Bloody Someday

Someday doesn't exist. I tried to look it up on a calender and nothing. Ziltch. I thought perhaps "Sunday" was a typo of Someday since they sound so similar, but alas, it is sunday in every calender I cross referenced it with too. I guess this means I really don't have any idea when I'm gonna do most of what I wanna do. Crap.


Someday is a good substitute for "Maybe". It has more intent behind it. It's kind of romantic and hopeful. That's why they put it in so many love songs!

I remember having a chat with my mother once and she told me that she hated the word HOPE. I kind of do too. Here's why: hope has a desperation to it. Hope seems to almost imply that there is only one way that things will work out. Only one answer and that's what we wish for but otherwise we're so fucked! Hope is cynical.It's a wish in a world gone to shit. It's a longing. Its a "someday", yes. And while I admire it's seemingly optimistic nature I think it's an imposter and a sham! Hope is for those who don't have the strength to get down with the big guns of optimism: FAITH. Hope is faith's scardy cat bitch. Faith says BRING IT ON! Faith says that no matter what, no matter how difficult things turn out, my shit is gonna stay intact. I will survive! I believe in myself! I truly believe and I shall overcome!
Now, I know you are all gonna think this is some GOD shit and TRUST ME it is not. If that's something that you wanna have faith in go ahead, but keep it out of the goverment and the general community because no one idea should rock paper or scissor over another.Do not impose your beliefs. That's some bullshit. I don't have a problem with individual beliefs but I have a SERIOUS problem with peoples personal beliefs interfering with the rights of others or dictating anything beyond that individuals own CHOICES.


Ya know what burns me up? And this is a tangent but I don't care cause its MY blog and I have to say it: So many, not all, but so many in the christian and catholic church are opposed to my beautiful gay brothers and sisters getting legally married because they think that being gay is a CHOICE. Well, don't that turn blue eyes brown! The true choice is the religion one practices! Just because you CHOOSE to believe in snakes and fairies doesn't mean you should be able to deny equal rights to fairies! Human beings who just want to be with the one they love and have the same rights we do. Such bullshit and I will take anyone, any of you bitches, to task if you try to tell me that denying gay people marriage is anything but imposing ones religion on the masses and denying equal rights to all. Where is George Orwell when I need him? George? Can I get a hell yeah??? [Fist in the air]


So, back to FAITH! Faitha ,faitha, faitha (different George)! It's the shit! It's the way to do go. And I think it can help extinguish all the "Somedays" because it automatically renders one impervious to the fears and insecurities that kept them from commiting to what they truly wanted! Sorry Obama, but hope's for dopes. I say we make an effort to replace those "Somedays" with "Sundays". The Calender already has.

Loads of love,

C

Blogging is THE SHIT!

I am seriously enjoying blogging. I get to be the God of My own blog! It's so great. Ego in da House! I can just write all the stupid shit I want to. Hobosnacks know that turning trix is for kids! Hahah! SEE, I just wrote that, and its totally cool and fine. Fine like wine. I can lose my shit! No problem. It's ALL good. I am totally pulling a Kanye now! Maybe it's not as much of a coincidence as I thought that we have the same exact birthday. I still won't own up to Joan Rivers though! I hate plastics and QVC will not answer my calls! This is like being on drugs, the stupid shit you think and just SAY. It seems so relevent and perfect in those moments. Not to say that this feels perfect but yeah, okay. It kind of does. Masturbation I know. I love it in all it's forms! Diddle, diddle, diddle! Also, the more masturbating we each do, the happier and more satiated we will be! This could end wars! Save marriages! Prevent drunk driving! It saves lives! I am saving lives right now because instead of getting drunk and getting into a car and driving it into another car, one that is full of babies, I am blogging it out. I am saving babies! Angelina wishes she were this giving! Deepak Chopra wishes he could bring on this kind of self-love! It's a one-two punch! Drinking and blogging is not dangerous. I'm not drinking right now but I could if I wanted to. And you can read this blog drunk too! Wow! Awesome! I bet I seem crazy right now! Crazy is amazing! I'm just crazy enough to work. I'm Love love love love CRAZY love. I'm crazy about crazy. Crazy is the new black. DADA all over the place! This must be what it feels like to be a dude who yells on the subway! It's so liberating! at least I am keeping it safely on these pages where you can read it, or not read it! Who gives a shit!Freedom was illegal until blogs came out. Free yourself! It's great! I'm finally FREE! Ow!!!

P.S: Random: Wonder if the old woman in the shoe used odor eaters?
Knock, knock. Who's there?: My BLOG! Why is god such a douche in some sections of the bible and does that make the people who love him lovers of "bad boys"?

Does Febreeze really clean anything or is it just like using perfurme in medieval times (not the restaurant)?

Why do people consider it "polite" to use formalities? Shouldn't it be more flattering when someone shows their true selves and allows for true intimacy?

There are too many pink elephants in the room. Sometimes I'm the elephant, but only when I put on my "holiday" weight.

Why didn't we get any angry punks during the Bush years? The Regan years were full of punks. We get Fall Out Boy? You've got to be kidding me!

Joel is right, Chewy really did deserved an award too at the end of Star Wars: A New Hope. He's been right a lot lately. I am going to make Chewy an award! Like when colleges give out honorary degrees, only he deserves it and those people may not deserve their bullshit honorary degree. I pity the fool who paid for and earned one. I will make those fools awards too. "Search your feelings [fill in the blank]."
Over and out.

C and C music Factory

Ive been wanting to write an entry about my sister and i for some time now but its difficult. how do i do it justice? where do i even begin?

growing up poor in the trailer park?

being home-schooled and inventing our own world with our dollies to compensate for lack of peers?

singing and performing in the family band as children?

agreeing, at age 8 and 9, that mom and dad were crazy when they cooked up that idea to sell pottery at the swap meet?

wearing thrift shop clothes (this might not sound so bad now but carly actually ended up wearing a sweater that had once belonged to another girl at our highschool. The girl proved this by looking for her name which was written inside the sweater)?

fighting over who would marry Joey McIntyre from NKOTB (you won this one because you DID meet him in ny)?

performing mc hammer with coordinated dance moves for the Tacoma Summer Pops festival?

being there for each other from birth, to puberty, to highschool, to moves to nyc ,to the co-op and beyond.......

i love you Chary!

xo

Chamy

Boobooze Christopher Gemelle

Boobooze Christopher Gemelle.

This was the first big personality to emerge. Boobooze happened like a movie. It was Christmas time and we were shopping at the Fashion Island Shopping center in Balboa. They had a huge Christmas tree, much like the one in Rock Center, only this one was always sprayed with white paint that was supposed to resemble snow. I guess Southern California really had no clue. Outside a fancy toy store I first laid eyes on Him. Berjusia was the name of the company that made him, I think. He was an anatomically correct newborn babydoll. I was very specific with santa that year and santa DELIVERED.

I got not only Boobooze but a brand new banana seated bike with streamers and a basket. I remember spending xmas day riding around the whole trailer park with boobooze naked in the basket.
Boobooze became my best friend and my sister Carly's too. Although she also got a doll that was an anatomically correct baby boy, hers was a toddler with blond hair like her own but it was creepy. He actually resembled a blond version of the midget from Fantasy Island more than a baby. His little penis was weird and he was not life like really. We both kind of hated him. I think later he may have become a villian of some sorts. Thats how it worked out for most of the toys that ended up on misfit island. Ah, us children and our need to equate beauty with goodness. Our society reinforces it too. Pretty gross eh?


Booboozie will write cuz dis is bowing oderwize.

Booboozie luvs ninga turdles! and milly venilly. Boobozie wants a krang toy and to be da king of everyfing!
Ampy is da best. She let's Boobozie eat ice cream and trow mommys tings. Mommys tings are dumb. If it was Booboozies choice Booboozie would always eat ice cream and trow tings. Booboozie would live wif Ampy and dance and sing on da stage and be da leader. Booboozie hits da ones who don't wisten to Booboozie. Booboozie tiwered. Beddie time.

Anyway, Boobooze was no toy. He was REAL! I would fill his little mouth with food at every meal (it got so gross in there), I'd buy him boys action figures and toys. He especially loved the Teenage Mutaint Ninja Turtles.

I remember I'd get up early and risk punshishment to watch it with him while my dad slept like an angry bear in the back room. You did NOT want to wake my father up from his sleep. I would watch all my saturday morning cartoons with barely there sound and straining to hear. On more than one occasion my sister and I got punished for doing this. My mother would try to set the vcr to tape them but more often than not the tape would have some kind of royal fuck up and either cut off my favorite shows or miss them completely. You knew you were screwed when Hawaii Five-o came on and that's precisely around the time my night owl musician of a father would wake up. A lot of good that did me.

Next time: THE CRAZY LADIES!, Cousin Mitchipoo, Rick Stenson: a Neil Diamond like pop star emerges, and the Girly Whirls: a whole new angle on valley girls and waaaay before Romy & Michelle were even a twinkle.

Babydoll

I played with dolls until I was 14. If I didn't think I'd be commited for it I might continue to play with them. It's one part of the prospect of my, hopefully, being a parent in the future that I really get excited about: I can play with toys again!!!!" Though I am a little bummed that I will not get to have my own toys. Darned sharing! Hmph!

Part of what may have hindered my evolution out of make believe and into more mature interests may have been the homeschooling. After 4 years of playing sick and crying and doing just about anything to get out of going to school my parents thought it might be wise to pull my sister Carly and I out of public school and start teaching us at home.

Homeschooling is weird. It's one of those things that you hear about as a kid and you just imagine the most wonderful freedom! But it actually ends up playing out more like communism. Power trips, underhanded dealings, less freedom and worse than that: no escape from the homelife! You think at first: Its amazing! No more school!

The problem with home schooling, or one of many, is that if you are already a bit odd you will go deeper and deeper into a state of bizarreness that will make the possibility of ever assimilating in polite society seem farther and farther from your realm.

My parents did little to no lesson planning. I mean, my mom could barely find her keys much less organize lessons for us children consistantly. And my father, he would get involved here and there when a subject interested him or if he just wanted to punish us with an onslaught of math. Most of it was math he couldn't even do but he became very pissed and worried that our mother was not teaching us the hard stuff enough. He loved to crack the whip now and then and it seemed to be motivated by nothing more than a feeling of losing control or maybe boredom. I can empathize with it more today than I could as a child. Being an adult you can get very frustrated by life and your lack of control. As a result you might sometimes become a tyrant or a big bitch! I will often become difficult and very stubborn with Joel when I have these little moments. I'm so lucky he puts up with me, though not without an allusion to my "time of the month" thrown in here and there.

Anyway, homeschooling was a big hot mess! There was really no structure or schedule and little by little it became just my sister and I and our parents living daily life.

For Carly and I daily life meant immersing ourselves into a fantasy world. We were the gods of all our dollies. Very often they would develop their own personalities and traits and tastes. When you think about it it's kind of like multiple personality disorder with a mask on. How will I deal will life? Oh, I know! I will let THIS person deal with it!
So this is sort of a "to be continued."
Over the next few I will throw in a blog here and there that introduces some of these "personalities" I grew up with. My childhood buddies. Sometimes the blog will be written by them. Others entries will be about them. Stay tuned. ;)

You know you're fucking up when a puppy dies in your dream.

Last night I had a shitty nightmare.

I was living in a city that was kind of like a strip mall, you know the all american scream. I was given a task by my grandmother: watch her new puppy while she is at the movies with a friend. I reluctantly agreed.

I took the puppy all around the "mall" with me. I was annoyed with it and more concerned with running my own errands than actually caring for it. Finally I realized that my grandmothers movie was out and I made my way to the theatre where she and her friend virginia were sitting out front on a bench.

I realized just before I reached my grandmother that I hadn't given the puppy ANY water since I'd watched it.My grandmother had specifically told me not to forget to do this as the puppy depended on it.

I handed grandma the puppy. She asked me "did you give him water? He looks a little dry." Not wanting to admit my selfishness I told her that I had indeed. She looked pleased and I walked away and went back to doing "my thing".

The next day I called my grandmother again to find out how her movie was and how the puppy was. She told me he had died from dehydration.

To me this dream is obvious! Stop being such a self-absorbed asshole and make an effort to see more of your grandma! I'm gonna aim for at least once a week, even if its only a short visit.

Its also her birthday on wed! Happy birthday grandma! I love you!

Slippery

"Make some noise if you wanna see more boobies!" Yeah! Hell yeah I do! Bring em on! I wanna see the ugly ones and the pretty ones. The fat ones and the skinny ones! The rich ones and the poor ones. The fake and the real. Bring. On. The. Boobies. Oh how I love nudity!

Saturday night my man and I went to The Slipper Room to see some titties and drink whiskey! A friend of mine who bartends there had invited us out the week prior but one of us was tired (me) and one of us was recently tattooed (him) so we postponed it a week. I'm so glad we went and can't thank my friend enough because it was a night to remember!

Strip tease and burlesque has become a bit of a thing for us lately. After seeing the amazing Pontani Sisters (google em and ogle em! They are amazing) at The Belle House we both noted a respect for the art form and it's wholesome yet open approach towards sexuality and dance. It's so refreshing when you can watch a girl sniff her panties and wink at you without imagining her doing cocaine and running a razor blade across her wrist after the show. Instead you imagine her going out for cupcakes and watching The Muppet Show in crotcheless lingerie. Her only daddy issues are that he told her she was pretty so often that her overwhelming ego can hardly be satified.

In the city that never sleeps going to rock shows or comedy shows alone can start to lose it's luster. The Pontani Sisters isn't quite what you get when you go to The Slipper Room on a saturday night though. When you go to the slipper room what you get is R-A-W! It's just as memsmerizing in a way that's entirely its own.

Joel and I arrived not sure what to expect. We entered a red room with dim lighting and were charged only measly 5 dollar cover charge! A real steal! My friend promptly poored some shots down our throats, a drink each and guided us to an area where we could see the specktacle un-obstructed.

There on the stage was Pan, in his goat-hooved glory! He was played by a man so awkward and pale that you couldn't look away. He made me feel so delightfully uncomfortable. Like when you know a bum is staring at you on the subway or when you see someone you used to know at a club or event and neither of you aknowledge eachother but both know and glance over here and there. Its as exhilirating as it is uncomfortable. I was loving it!

Pan had big teeth that made him talk with a bit of an odd lisp. He had a white wig on with a wreath around it, and a pointy piece of fur sticking out from his crotch. It would flop up and down when he danced! After a few crowd alienating jokes he introduced the first act. A red head with very white skin was seated on a chair and proceeded to bump and grind her clothes off piece by piece. She was not much of a dancer but her costume was amazing. A big black buzzled skirt with a high collared shirt. She actually got so caught up in her act that she forgot to take her clothes off and reveal her pasties! Pan pointed this out and she promptly came to the stage and pulled her top off, then awky Pan helped her off with each pasty, revealing two nipple ringed bare breasts.

Several similar acts followed! It was lovely and amazing. Then came the beautiful finale to Pan's portion of the show!

Heavy rock music full of curse words blarred as SHE entered! She hunkered around bowl legged, ungracefully ripping off her bra to reveal pasties then ripping those off like an animal to reveal her breasts. She then pulled down her shorts to reveal a tiny and pinkish-orange tinted penis and balls. She looked at us like we were uptight little prudes about to have our hymen-like eyelids torn off! She jumped into the audence and rubbed her bare naked body all over 3 business men in the front, two bridge and tunnel looking girls and a lesbian couple who seemed to be loving friends of the show! She lept back on stage and ripped off her wig with a big ape smile! Behind her was a table with two large pizzas on it. She grabbed a slice, put a hole through it and wrapped it around her penis. She then took duck tape and taped slices to each bicep, each leg and then her ass. Then, to make sure that no one left with any indication that she gave a shit what they thought, she squeezed dark chocolate on a few remaining slices of pizza, grabbed one, took a big bite and starting cackling "Ha! Ha! It's shit! I'm eating shit!" The curtain closed!

My stomach was turning for sure but it was beautiful nausea all the same! Amazing! Barbaric! Brave! Hilarious!

During the intermission at The Slipper Room they have a go go dancer come out and dance her socks off while we wait for the next show. So out came this cute tiny little gal in a red curly wig. She was holding up two slices of the pizza from the last act. She probably thought this would be funny and a little gross too. She held the disgusting and lopsided things enticingly as if to prompt someone from the audience to take one. Haha! Then I watched in a mixture of horror and glee as a drunken Joel headed for the stage, took a huge bite out of one of the slices and then grabbed it and took it back to his seat with him! Then he proceeded to finish it off as myself and the dancer, who was clearly taken aback as well, looked on! THIS action, in its disgustingness and shamelessness reminded me so much of my father that a flashback of the flushed feeling I would get as a child came creeping up inside of me. My dad aka "the little devil!" My dad also has an ability to eat anything no matter how disgusting but that's a story for a future blog.

This is so unlike my joelmite! Was this the same guy who had gotten grossed out the night before when I used a chopstick to stir my tea, then dipped it in a tupperware dish full of dishwater and coffee grounds and nearly just put it away until I realized what I was doing? This guy here? The guy eating a slice of cold pizza that may or may not have been rubbed on someones body during a (deliciously) vulgar striptease? Uh, I think so!

After years of making a concious effort to avoid dating or acting at all like my parents I am now realizing that try as I might, I will always draw at least somewhat like-minded and equally certifiable souls to my side. I guess that's why we click so well.

Anyway, I watched as the lovely petite girl danced! She had such amazing breasts! They looked real. They were so bizarrely full and round as were her hips and her tiny and short but shapely little legs. She was hourglassed and womanly but also very toned. I had such a crush on her soft sweet girly cuteness. The next showing delivered more dancing talent than the last and some amazing performances involving manhattan, coney island and my personal favorite, which involved a tiger skin rug that gets humped and embraced with such elegance and grace that I think Pizza Dick and Tiger Lick should put together a good cop and bad cop routine!

It was a great night. I can't recommend it enough! Just make sure that you don't wear your sunday best! Joel's coat came home with some questionable gunk on it and I'm sure some other peeps returned with their own pizza and/or mystery stains of their own! Well worth it though!!!

P.S: I wish I could remember the performers names! I'm so sorry I can't! I will edit this blog in the future if I am able to get them.

Can't a bitch be real?

I find it very distrubing that so many unessesary taboos continue to exsist in our phony baloney society. Chief amongst them is this idea of confidence!

I can't tell you how many times I've been told I need to be more "confident". Its very frustrating because its actually a confidence KILLER when its used in the wrong way. See, its one thing to encourage someone and say: "you have so many amazing gifts. Why aren't you confident about them? You should be!" Its quite another when someone says: you are so insecure. You are such a mess. You need to have more confidence and stop depending on outside sources for it. Bla Bla Bla... That's as helpful as telling a person who's suffocating that they need more air. It's not helpful and it's not even that well meaning. That's just a person who doesn't want to deal with you. Make no mistake. Bring the air or some light or step aside!
See, confidence is a delicate thing. I think it's arrogant and hypocritical to require it of someone outside yourself. None of us have perfect confidence. We ALL have our insecurities! All of us. You'd have to be a complete sociopath not to. So to me this second way is actually just a way to put someone down and make them feel inadequate and as if they, warts and all, are not enough and MUST project this "air" of confidence in order to be validated or make others feel comfortable. Its complete crap! It's a formality and a lie.

I say have real confidence in yourself by feeling good about who you are despite your struggles with staying confident. Do not let anyone make you feel as though you NEED confidence for THEM. Have it for yourself. Be open and honest about your struggles with it. Be a patient and compassionate friend to your fellow humans who struggle with it around you.

Confidence, much like "Cool" can be a real hoax. A lot of people who appear perfectly confident are actually living in a private world where they've trapped their insecurities and the walls are built HIGH! Appearing confident or cool usually means appearing unshakable. But we all have our own frailty. True strength ,to me, lies in aknowledging insecurities, trying to let go of them or understand them and forgiving yourself and showing yourself kindness when they rear their ugly heads. Ya see I have always been very hard on myself. And sometimes I think I need to be but other times I think I do it out of a fear that I will never measure up. I'm truly handing over control and personal power when I do that. I'm handing myself my own walking papers. That's striving for the sake of acceptance instead of for the sake of betterment. That's what I really want to be! Better! I want to be a better friend. A better lover. A better human being. Better at living life. So I say, lets scrap our attempts to appear confident and lets just be better. Fear is a terrible motivator because you almost always end up right back where you started. It's so cliche, but lets just be our best. And with that ill bet you will feel a sense of pride, a sense of integrity and True Confidence. I know i do.

Big Kiss!

C

Regini Gupta where are you?

Oh man, grade school! Awful! Painful! Hidious. I was just recently talking with my fella and my friends Gina and Leda about school and how much I hated it! It informs me to this day!There will be a lot of school stories going on up ins! Expect it.

Full on weirdo me, I never had a chance to be anything but a complete outcast. And what do outcasts do? Well, if they are the type like me: totally uncool yet still completely obsessed with being "the leader" or at least part of some kind of diabolical duo then they look for other outcasts. Preferably people who are even more pathetic or hopeless than they themselves are. In school I was kind of like the US military searching desperately for "at risk youth" who would climb on my bandwagon and join me in my schemes and dreams (thanks mom and dad).

I started school in the first grade because my mom wanted my sister and I to start together. So she started in Kindergarden and I in first grade. I cried everyday. Everyday. It was horrible. Everyone messed with me or ignored me. That is until Regini.

Regini had to deal with a prejudice way more unfair than the lot of being a dirt poor trailer park kid in school full of rich blondies. Ya see Regini was Indian! At least the other kids saw me as somewhat like themselves. Regini was an ALIEN to them.

She was deep chocolate brown with bright fushia velveteen when I first laid eyes on her. Shoe laces untied, as they would regularly be for the whole time I knew her. She stood out more than me and I knew that she was to vulnerable to say anything but yes to the prospect of at least a regular recess and lunch companionship between us.

On top of all that though Regani was just fascinating to me. She was increadibly smart. Only my first grade crush Brandon Love, and this girl Jennifer were ahead of her in class. She would read voraciously. Her parents wouldn't allow her toys but they did allow her books by the barrel.

They were strict and conservative parents. The polar opposite of my unstructured and unbridled upbringing. They lived in a condo community in New Port Beach. Everything in their condo was pristine and brand new. I remember thinking that it reminded me a lot of the Keaton's place in Family Ties. Especially the kitchen. And it was in that kitchen that i tasted the first Indian food i would ever have. I cant remember the name of the dish but i know it had lentils in it and it was spicy. I liked it but my palette had not yet graduated from Taco Bell and Macaroni and Cheese so it was a bit too sophisticated for me.

Regani was my best friend and i loved her. I loved her because she was so smart and different than me. I loved her because she was strong and opinionated and fun. She invited me to her condo community one halloween and we filled pillow cases with candy. There weren't very many kids living there so we cleaned up! She came to my very small 7th birthday party at the movie theatre. We saw Beverly Hills Cop.

I'm leaving for India in three weeks and I cant help but wonder if i will come across any Guptas'. I think it's a pretty common name. I don't even know what part of India they are from.

Regini, if you are out there and you read this: i love you and i want to hear from you. I hope your life turned out wonderful!

Total Eclipse of the Heart: The Valentines Day Hateration.

Let me start this off by saying that my favorite holiday is Halloween! I loooove it! I love to dress up and get spooky. I have not spent one halloween uncostumed since as far back as I can remember. Sometimes I'll even have two or three costumes for different locations. Sick but such is the product of an overly imaginative childhood. Sometimes it was an escape and sometimes it was entertainment but my version of life had always been and continues to be pretty romantic and unrealistic. I grew up watching old hollywood movies and my wonderfully unique (and completely insane) parents construct dream after dream after hairbrained scheme. They were like the wizard and the good witch from oz! Everything was possible in their minds.

Digression City, but I think this might be a good explaination as to why I love holidays so much! I really do. I love that each has its own color scheme. I love that they change the cereal boxes and coca cola cans to coorespond. Franken Berry and Christmas Crunch rock my world! Pumpkin pie and lattes! Hip hip...hooray! I love a green beer! Barbecues on 4th of July and don't even get me started on cadbury creme eggs! Then there's the sweetheart candies. They say more to you than rice crispies do! And heartshaped boxes full of heartshaped chocolates! Valentines day. Its one week away!

Through my adult life I have never experienced people directing quite as much disdain and disgust towards an occasion than I have towards valentines day. People get all up in arms! Its always perplexed me.

Around Valentines day many of my single friends will start bitching about the day or speaking of how much they hate the day and being alone on it. My coupled ones get all amped about what they are doing or they completely lose it over the pressure to having a nice time. If I have a boyfriend he's inevitably compeletly grossed out by this "made up" holiday full of "hallmark" opportunities.

The thing is: they are all made up, really! They are ALL commercialized and over-blown by modern day society. Doesn't matter if they were founded centuries ago or decades ago. All holidays, just like every other human celebration/experience are marketed and wrapped in a big bow of credit card debt. And YES I have been that depressed girl who's watching the other girls get flowers or watching the only girl who had boobs in the 4th grade get a huge box of chocolates while I got next to nada! But my thought is: so what? I've spent just as many christmases with my dad throwing our tree out the window or thanksgivings working the late shift at the Senior Swankys! That's life. Its not always good or fun no matter what occasions are approaching. Birthdays are often a shitshow! Sometimes its up to us to embrace it or at least not make ourselves way more miserable by becoming cynical, counterculturally obsessed snobs.

Valentines day doesn't have to mean a gross necklace from Zales and a toast over white zinfendel. It can mean whatever we want. It can mean the large wooden heart that my dad carved and constructed for my mother as I watched in delight. It can mean a declaration of love or a night of of board games! It can be a hotdog after hot yoga. It can be a large group of friends getting togther and having fun!


My best valentines to date is still the one I spent with my good friend Allison. I think it was 2001. She took me to a hotel for breakfast. It was elegant. Then I took her to Hooters for a few pitchers of beer! She gave me the best card, one that was intended for a man to give to his wife. It had the headline: For The Women Who Changed My Life. Hell, that xmas we even did it up and had a very merry UN-xmas. We decorated our tree with ghouls and tampons and played tequilla twister on xmas eve. The point is that we made it fun. Instead of being mopey or non-celebratory or putting it down we decided not to let Hallmark or the haters get to us and we took it and made it our own. Even cynicsm is fun so long as its tounge in cheek. So let's stop taking ourselves so seriously. Let's approach this shit with love or at least good humor! No expectations, just an all out attack of kindness and festivity! That's all I ask. So I say to all: try to have a happy valentines day this year! No matter what that means! xxx

Our Lady Of Perpetual Astonishment

I did a blog once before. It was on my old friendster page. Remember friendster? The beginning of the social networking sites. You had to know someone to get on enitially and it was super exclusive and hipster centered. Little did they know someday our grandparents would be posting LOL's at our every picture or guffaw!

Anyway, the blog was called Mind Candy or something like that and I'd write all these random entries. It was fun and fucking scary. I remember there were a lot of entries I refused to publish because I was so unsure if I was ready to open myself up in that way.
See, the main reason this scares me is not so much because I care about people knowing what's on my mind or stories about my life. I'm a pretty open book in that respect. I appreciate honesty and though I have my own version of privacy I also think that there's something amazing about sharing your experience with others. It requires a kind of bravery that comes partially natural to me and is partially a dare to myself. The main reason I am fearful of blogs is accountability and the ever changing me. See, I am not a FIXED person on many levels. I have a lot of strong opinions and a foundation of personal truths but I like to keep my mind and my options open. I don't want to ever feel tied to one idea or opinion or definition of myself. I am constantly being amazed and enlightened. Its the reason I will never be of one religion or belief system. I have faith only in the fact that shit will keep changing, along with my mind.

So on these pages you will see the me of today or yesterday. Who knows how I will evolve. I hope only to be better and stronger and always stay open! 24 hour me! Here we go bitches....

C