The Long and Short List
For Pisser (adult content - must be over the age of 18 to view or big scary men in FBI uniforms will break down your door):
The Drildo
Hey she asked...
*ahem*
15 Reasons Being Home Rocks:
1. Free meals
2. Built in sitter
3. Laundry service
4. No rent/mortgage payment
5. No bills in general (other than your ridiculous credit card bills because you are too goddamn weak to quit charging mindlessly on hiphuggers and fuck me strappy shoes)
6. Hugs
7. Nostalgia
8. Humility
9. Fresh sliced fruit and berries over ice cream with whipped cream and hazelnut creamed decaf every night while watching Cold Case Files
10. Ruling Monopoly
11. Teaching your korean mother how to moonwalk
12. Laughter
13. Snuggling in bed with your mom and your 6 year old kid while watching Jackie Chan movies
14. Aggravating your dad by pinching him really hard with your toes
15. Having a chance as a grown up to feel like a kid again
10 Reasons Being Home Sucks Because There Just Ain't 15
1. Vibrator is too loud so are forced to go manual thereby risking carpal tunnel
2. Boyfriend visits end because no where to bring him since father is as strict as he was when you were 14 (it's been a MONTH since I've seen my boyfriend and I am about ready to hump doorknobs at this point)
3. Phone conversations are out of the question because cannot risk questionable content being overheard by eagle eared parental units and no one can hear you whispering in a goddamn cell phone
4. Can almost hear thighs getting fatter from free meals and fruity ice cream every night
5. Mother walks in on you while you are on computer editing photos from recent photoshoot at exact moment you are editing out your beaver (total unintended mishap - must remember to give panties another go) and becomes convinced you are entering the dark world of pornography
6. No pornography
7. Can't have girlfriends over to watch pornography and make some of own
8. Being treated like a kid when you are clearly a grown up
9. Unexplained spooky teenage-like acne outburst
10. Realizing how much you are going to miss your folks when you move 500 miles away from them
Fun with Referers
I recently signed up for a free tracking service so I could see who is reading and how they get here...this morning I checked my referers and am laughing so hard still:
ROTF
Only me.
That is all.
Eat My Ass CoinStar
Message from the CEO
"Our mission is to create and deliver technology-based, consumer-focused services that enable people to save time and money, and simplify their lives. Through an innovative spirit and strong company values we continue to deliver on this mission."
My ass.
More like:
‘Our mission is to create and deliver technology that is unreliable and faulty, consumer frustration and stress that enable people to go into a facility with the intention of getting cash for their change and leaving with a police escort. Through a lackadaisical spirit and little work on our part we continue to deliver on this mission.’
I went into Safeway with a big ass plastic animal cracker container FULL of change and lugged it over to the Coinstar machine. It chugged along and we were sitting there watching the total rise up to $260.11 and then it kept saying CHECK TRAY which was empty. I kept pushing the start button and nothing. Start. Nada. Fuck.
I stop a guy and he calls someone over. THREE ladies show up and start tugging at the guts of this machine, my change spilling out everywhere. After 15 minutes, they finally get all my remaining change back into the plastic container and then try to get it to print my receipt. Which it won’t. Perfect.
The conversation between the two ladies went something like this:
“Goddamn machine. This is the third time today.”
“I can’t believe how jammed this thing gets.”
“I am going to take a hammer to this thing!”
*laughs*
“It won’t print?”
“Nope.”
“Well tell her to come back tomorrow.”
“She has to come back within 24 hours or the ticket is no good.”
*record scratch*
TICKET NO GOOD?
I interject…
“Umm excuse me but did you say the ticket will be no good after 24 hours?”
“Yes that’s right.”
“So, you just keep my money if for some reason I can’t get here by 10:30 tomorrow morning.”
*Mental note: Only ever do important things involving money in the afternoon.
“That’s right.”
“Um I don’t get the logic in that.”
“Lady, I don’t make the rules.”
OK Broom Hilda.
Sheesh.
They FINALLY get my change out and get me a fucking ticket. A total of 40 minutes at this point has now been spent standing at the Coinstar machine, listening to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum peck over the machine.
“You can cash this out at any check stand.”
Whips ticket out of her dirty hand and storms off to check stand. Naturally there is a freak of nature line from hell at 11:10 in the morning on a Monday in Safeway. I take a breath and choose the slowest moving line.
Of course.
I am almost to my limit at this point and am literally biting my tongue as my son was happily kung fu fighting with his Bruce Lee gloves. (Bruce Lee wore gloves?)
The back of my eyeballs were starting to ache. This is a surefire sign that Satan is near.
After what seemed like another 40 minutes, I get to the checker, hand him my ticket and he smiles at me…
“Oh sooorrrrry hooonnnnn, I can’t cash this. You’ll have to go to Customer Service.”
Across the goddamn market.
Through my teeth, “The lady over there told me I could cash this at ANY check stand.”
“Riiiight and you can but they just cleaned me out.”
I wanted to bust his yellow teeth into the back of his face.
Customer service was no better. I had to wait for a Mexican guy to rent a Rug Doctor steam vac and he spoke no English, the lady spoke no Spanish. So with my extensive Spanish education, I intervened and tried to interpret.
Not the best idea.
When already frustrated.
I ended up swearing at her because he was trying to tell her that he didn’t have a driver’s license to leave with her. A friend drove him. He had no credit cards and wanted to pay cash.
“He doesn’t have a fucking credit card. He wants to pay with goddamn cash!”
The manager came.
He chased out my ticket and escorted me out of the store. OK so wasn’t police escort but close.
Next time I have to go to a market and am not getting prompt service, all I have to remember to do is start swearing and the manager will take care of my transaction AND walk me to the door.
What a gentleman…and they say chivalry is dead.
*SMIRK*
The Incredible Disappearing Candace
Standing in line at the bank for what seemed like eons, I hear my name so I look up and there is this girl I went to junior high school with looking ever so happy to see me. Throws her arms around me and practically gives me the heimlich maneuver. How she recognized me I will never know since the last time she saw me I was 13, 6" shorter and being suspended for smoking weed with her in the girls bathroom - her folks yanked her from school after that and I never saw her again...well, until today.
"OHMIGAWWWWWD RACHEL!!!"
Uhhhhhhh....
"Uhhh hiiiiii..."
"IT'S MEEEEEEEEEEEE CANDAAAAAAAAAAACE!!!"
"Caaaandaaaaace...hiiiii...."
"JUNIOR HIGH SILLY!"
"Ohhhh CANdaaace...hi..oh my fucking god how the hell are ya?"
The smile drooped on her face like a wilted flower. Her eyes widened like Spongebob Squarepants saucers and locked over my shoulder. I by default looked behind me. Two nuns. Nuns bank? What the fuck were NUNS doing there? Sorry. I mouthed while all the blood rushed to my face and offered a half hearted smile. I was not a big hit with the nuns. When I turned back to Candace, she was GONE. Candace left the building. And here I thought we were going to have a slumber party or something. The weirdest thing and it is still vexing me.
Now I just hope I don't have nightmares about junior high school friends who got sent to Catholic school because I got them smoking The Weed, nuns and Spongebob Squarepants.
The Fags Come Out At Night
Look Ma! I'm famous!
OK hardly but twas a fun show. I got a wild hair up my arse and wanted to go out dancing last Saturday night so I called my friend and off we went. Lots of fun was had and my friend Jeff who sings for the band wrote me and told me how funny it was to watch all those conservative guys freak out watching her and I make out. Huh? There were conservative guys watching us make out? I seriously thought we were being sly. Barnacles!
So this weekend will be eventful.
Saturday I have a photo shoot with my friend Holly where I will actually be posing for her this time. She is bringing her boyfriend's souped up GTO and we are going to do shots in my dad's warehouse where there are these giant metal roll up doors. Probably do some nudes and some fun Pussycat Doll type stuff. I'll post the PG13 ones when I get them back from her.
Heading up to Clear Lake after the shoot to check out my parents' new place on the lake before I move. I love it up there as long I don't have to leave the house. The lake is full of green gunge, the locals have done so much crank that their hair is straw and they have no teefes, even the kids, I think their parents did so much crank that bad hair and teeth is just passed along in the genes now. It will be nice to hang with them up there away from civilization for a short time...wait...I have been doing that for the last 6 years.
And last but certainly not least, Friday I am going out with Wonder Woman again to a local ristorante where they make the best damn raspberry lemondrops you ever done had and then to The Black Cat, a local lesbo bar. That's right. Hicktown has a gay bar and a lesbo bar. We ain't in Kansas no mo Toto. Move over hay bales, move over feed sack, move over duck crossing, make room for the fags and that includes us half fags!
Right when I am moving, this town gets interesting.
Figures.
Storage, USA
That’s where I am.
All moved out of my condo and moved in with my folks for a few weeks. It is weird. Last night I was downstairs eating raspberries and whipped cream while my mom and sister yakked about whatever. I suddenly felt like a teenager again. I took my sugared fruit to my room, put in The Cure Galore on my 50 year old boom box, plopped on the bed and IMed with my boyfriend till 1 in the morning. It was just like being a teenager again except I was IMing and not on the phone and I can do whatever I want cuz I am an adult and not sneaking because I am 15 and grounded. Despite the discomfort of the tension between my father and me, being home is kind of nice. I didn’t grow up in this house but just being around them and all their stuff is like stepping backwards in time. I am recollecting memories long lost in the archives of my past. Some rendering loud gaffaws, others a sly smirk, others a bittersweet frown, others a shake of the head and an eye roll, and then there are those memories that cause your face to twist into an expression that screams OH GEEEEEEEZ THAT’S RIIIIIIGHT. OMG… Then you silently make a deal with yourself to disregard the memory and assume no responsibility for your actions during that moment in history.
Rifling through old pictures, I stroll down memory lane and just can’t stop smiling. I was a really happy kid. Such a little lady, always with my dolls and legs crossed with little cute outfits my mom dressed me in like the brown courderoy jumper, white tights and brown cloghoppers. Always smiling. Then as I get older, the smiles turn to grimaces. There are pictures of me when I was in my early teens and in every picture I look as if it is the worst day of my life. I was such a tortured soul. You couldn’t pay me a million bucks to go through that again. Such a confusing time. Is it that hard for boys too? I wonder if it’s rougher on girls. Judging by the look on my face in these pictures, I would say the answer is Yes. Even these seemingly tortured photos make me smile. Amuses me now that I have had the life experience to know what hardship truly is. If only I knew then what I knew now...Crap, did I just say that? Isn't that like the #1 most cliche thing one can say? lol
There are great comforts in small things. Things like my mom coming in to see if I want something to eat while I sit writing in my room or noticing her smiling face as I tell her about my plans for my future or listening to my dad and my son giggling together downstairs. Makes me happy. Makes me glad that there is this two week hiatus between closes of escrows. Makes me realize that sometimes all we need to put things into perspective is slow down and take notice of what’s around us. Because in the end, these are the things that matter most. Not your career, not your looks, not your bank account balance or the car you drive, not whether or not the people you think are cool think you’re cool too but the little things in the people who matter most. Your family. Lovers come and go. Friends do as well. We may not get along with our family all of the time. They may drive us completely bonkers sometimes. They may wound us like no other has ever wounded us before but in the end, they are our blood and much like that birthmark on your ass, they are always going to be there. So, I am taking some time to appreciate mine despite our differences (family not birthmarks).
Speaking of differences, I went shopping to get my dad a father’s day gift and I could not believe the killer sales going on right now! Big difference from the last time I was there…wait, no, that’s not right, they always have good sales. I was just trying to make moving on to a new topic flow. LOL So now that everything I own less 2 suitcases (one strictly containing shoes of course) is being stored in my parents’ vacant warehouse, (thank Begeezus that they have that building because it sure is nice saving that money on storage so I could go blow it on INC clothes and shoes at Macys), I rationalized buying clothes and shoes because after all, a girl can’t live out of ONE suitcase for 3 weeks. Gotta have back up outfits in case something comes up like the need to look extra cute for no particular reason.
What is it with women and shopping? I go into a zone. This is why I prefer shopping alone. I like to go in and get out. I am not down to spend all fucking day sashaying around in price tagged clothing in front of mirrors that actually add cottage cheese to your thighs (because that shit was NOT there when I got out of the shower, mmkay) and walking out with one shirt. When I shop, I am on a mission. I hunt, I grab, I try on and I buy. It’s easy. What the fuck takes so long for some chicks? I have been with girls who took forever in the store. I have owned a store and seen women try on everything, throw everything on the floor and walk out without buying a fucking thing. Goddamn inconsiderate cunts. I hope they all get yeast infections. I am always conscious of hanging everything back up and handing it to the gal. They are not making much and probably don’t have benefits so make a note people, when you go shopping, put your shit back on the hangers and hand it over nicely. Even better, put the stuff back where you found it.
Reflecting on this last week, I am left with the following thoughts:
* Appreciate your loved ones and tell them what they mean to you before you move away because then you will beat yourself up for being too chickenshit to say it to their face before you drove away in the Uhaul with pieces of their hearts in the tread of the tires.
* Put everything in storage except for 7 outfits so that you can justify buying 7 more to hold you over until you are out of storage.
* When your dad says something mean to you, don’t argue with him. Grab your keys and go consume 4 raspberry vodka lemondrops at your local ristorante.
* Packing tape is best used for packing, not the following:
1.) Scary Tape Face;
2.) Removing upper lip hair;
3.) Holding wrapped cords in place;
4.) Anything having to do with being near plastic;
5.) Sticking to the bottom of your cat’s paws;
6.) Substituting as wine bottle cork;
7.) Holding Swifter sheets onto the piece of shit Swifter broom;
8.) Anything having to do with a fish tank;
9.) Holding one’s hair back;
10.) Scary Little Kid Tape Face (they will scream when you pull it off – use scotch tape for this)
Frickle Frack
Hey folks, big fat sloppy thanks to those who offered support in comments. Too goddamm tired to respond to them individually. Sorry. I am done sniveling and feeling like a little crybaby. My friend put it in perspective for me. She said,
"Why are you beating yourself up so much? You are moving with your son to a new city not abandoning him!"
I considered that and thought...Hey, you're right.
Perspective is a cool thing.
So last week I had my eyeliner and eyebrows tattooed. Last splurge on myself for a while...well until I get my cookie lasered when I move to LA. So I am laying there and she is tattooing me, wearing these goggles with magnify lenses so her eyes look 3 sizes too big for her head from my point of view. She says quite casually,
"My, your lips are lucious...are they yours?"
This set me aback. I have never had anyone ask me that about my lips before. My boobs, yes, everytime I go out I end up getting felt up in the ladies room but my lips? Well, there's a first time for everything. So while staring at her overcollagen injected mouth even though trying not to, I reply,
"Uhh yeah thank you, they're mine."
Her mouth looked like it got stuck in a drain. I seriously felt sorry for her. But she did a great job and never again will I have to pencil my eyebrows in or feel like a dead chick witout makeup. Joy to the world...you know, if I keep this up, I am going to end up looking like Jocelyn Wildenstien.
Think I'm Moving On....
Now that I have a place to move to in LA and am actually doing the packing thing, I have completely lost my mind. I have been packing up our things and periodically breaking down into tears!
What the fuck?!
I take inventory:
Is moving away really what I want?
Yes.
Do you really think you are going to ruin your child's life if you move to LA?
No, that's silly.
Even before you had a boyfriend who lived in LA, did you still want to move there?
Yes.
So what's your fucking problem?
I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!
Nerves. Last minute jitters. Cold feet. Insecurity. Uncertainty. Fear. Lions, Tigers, & Bears. Oh my.
I keep thinking about the positives of moving and then the possible negatives creep in like bad dreams. Interest rates are going up...I know this...might not be the best time to get into real estate. What if I can't make ends meet on a 100% commission career? I have no one else to fall back on if I am not bringing in any income. Also, in the forefront of my mind is the fact that not having the distance to hide behind anymore, my relationship is going to be real. That also means that the possibility of it ending is real too. Should I let my son get attached to my boyfriend? What if we break up? Can I put my son through that again? How much time together is the right amount of time and how much space should I put between them? Where's the fucking handbook for this shit?
Life is so much more complicated when you are a parent. I carry this heavy guilt of not providing my child with the security of an intact family. I put him through divorce, a break up with the guy he called Dad for 4 1/2 years, now moving away from his grandparents he loves so much...I guess if worse comes to worse, after 2 years in LA, we can always move back if it doesn't pan out.
It's funny. You really never appreciate what you have til you lose it. I have been focusing on how unhappy I am in this hicktown for so long that I didn't fully appreciate the awesome home I have built here for myself and my son. These walls have seen so much. So many memories. Five years worth of laughter and tears. My baby grew into a little man here. I finally packed up his baby clothes and am letting them go. No reason to hold onto tiny socks and bibs forever. I am going to let him pull out the things he wants to hold onto and the rest go with The Salvation Army when they get here on Monday.
I guess I'm moving on.
No one said it was going to be easy.
Bang a Gong
It is amazing what accumulates in the cabinets and drawers of one’s abode. I spent the weekend consolidating everything down to what has been used/worn in the last year. Everything else went into trash bags. I hauled out EIGHT giant trash bags full of shit to the trash and another SIX of clothing.
:?|
Now everything is clean and orderly. It feels…liberating.
A few months ago while on a flight to LA to see my boyfriend, I was listening to my mp3 player and the guy next to me asked what I was listening to. I took off my headphones and said, “Jane’s addiction.” Turns out he grew up with Stephen Perkins, the drummer for Jane’s Addiction. So we gabbed for the rest of the flight and he asked for my address so he could have Stephen send me some signed pics. I was like Sure whatever. Well, they came on Saturday. I opened the envelope and was instantly reduced to a melting teenager!
WICKED!
I was laughing at how he drew on his face so I, being the dork that I am, printed a picture of myself, completed the T-Rexx lyric he wrote on one of his pics, drew a kitty face on myself and autographed it to him! I sent a little note saying something like How often do you get a personalized autographed photo from a nonfamous fan? If you ever want to give back to the community, I would be happy to take any available guest passes to any future Jane’s show off your hands.
HAHAHAHHAHAA!
So other than that, life consists mainly of packing, missing my boyfriend and facing the impending life change that relocating to another city and changing your career will bring.
Good times!
Gimme a HELL YEAH!
Sorry I have been MIA folks but I have been in LA searching for a place to live. It's been a long hard road and the stress has been a worthy foe indeed. Bond. Rachel Bond. *mysterious pose*
Although I am not a No Doubt fan, I can't get the song Hella Good out of my head. I've been doing the incognito happy booty dance for the last three days. Why you ask? Because I went into escrow on a condo in Burbank on June 1st people! That's right, Rachel found a place to live. 30 day escrow so at the end of June, we can move in. The relocation has officially been secured.
What strikes me as really funny is that I actually qualified for a loan by myself. Does this lender have any idea that they are giving hundreds of thousands of dollars to an unemployed ex stripper who gets rapey on other girls? *mwuhahahahahahaha* I find it incredible that I look good on paper. It's kinda like when I got my first platinum card, I felt like I had arrived until I managed to rack up the bill over 10K and realized that playing with credit cards is no fun after all! Balls.
So I only have about 11 days of being homeless. All I need is 11 days of storage for my shit and for me, my son and the kitty. I will keep you posted.
I will write more later. I have some funny stories to share...
