Does this mean I'm my own ghostwriter?

I don't know what happens when you republish a post three times, but I think I finally got the hang og this mobile blogging thing.

the whole she-bang

she is marvelous at hiding
she is afraid
she is anxious, unsettled, and aware

she is brushing her thick hair, distracted by its weight
she is cursing herself for her selfishness
she is anticipating the end

she is sad for others, but only angry for herself
she is surrounded
she is above and below
she is caught, marked, and ready

she is standing tall
she is backing away
she is learning her own strength
she is fading more and more each day

she is understanding what pity really means
she is undone and rebuilt
she is better than before

she is me
she is free
she is no more

my cut is 33.3%

or whatever the going rate is for pimping like a sonofabitch around these here parts. each market is different, i don't really want to sell myself sort.

more importantly, b just told me 'boy, if you do couchie right, it'll sure do you right.'

he fluffs those cushions with unparalleled enthusiasm.

right, back to pimp talk. so most of you know about how kristine from wait in the van is my oldest and bestest bud. back in seventh grade we were the bitches to know, all the smack talking we did with her ferocious perm and my perfect bowl-cut made us feared and loved throughout our junior high.

or maybe we were the outcasts who wore men's clothing and pretended to smoke cigarettes without actually inhaling.

either way, the time has come for me to say wonderfully amazing things about her and her fantastic blog, wait in the van. if you have yet to click on the link for wait in the van, i suggest you do so now so that you can enter her chuck norris contest, lest you get a sharp roundhouse to the head.

i can personally vouch for the authenticity of the items in the contest, as i was happily on hand for the entire three hour wait to meet the chuckster himself. i was not at all a crabby bitch, pouting in a corner, surrounded by underage boys at a military academy, wondering what, for fuck's sake, had i done for my life to bring me to that exact situation.

no friends, i was really thinking about how funny and special it was that one of you out there in blogland was going to end up with a piece of chuck norris history in your hot little hands.

it takes a very dedicated blogger, one who really, really cares about her readers, to offer up such valuable memorabilia instead of keeping it for herself.

if the contest is the bait, her well crafted stories and one-of-a-kind microsoft paint drawings are the true snare that will keep you lurking and lingering around her blog for years to come.

and if that isn't enough for you, than you suck at life and are destined to become a miserable old goat with really long nails, stringy hair, and yellow teeth.

(that's always how i've pictured mean people looking when they get old, or you can insert your own visual here if needed)

ok, so maybe insulting people isn't the best way to get folks to check out my best friend's blog, but then again, i've never really been one to do things the traditional way.

in any event, i hope that when you do check it out and find yourself giggling and clapping, that you have enough manners to remember to thank me in your head.

your welcome.

b's my favorite action hero

i love me some christian bale.

i pretty much will watch any movie he's ever been in no matter how sucky it promises to be.

it all started with empire of the sun.


that bratty little boy who, by the end of the movie, is transformed into a wisened young man has pervaded my taste in leading men for years.

needless to say, b has been subject to my bale obsession and has accumulated a vast supply of knowledge about the actor and his many roles.

this trivia was put to good use this morning when b announced that his new year's resolution was to go on 'the machinist' diet.


for those of you who might not have seen this movie, bale actually transformed his body to about one third of his natural weight by eating nothing more than a plain can of tuna fish and an apple a day for nearly a year.

now, i'm all about supporting b in whatever it is that he should choose to pursue, but come the fuck on.

seriously?

i don't think so.

after maybe a week, the smell of tuna is going to be vomit inducing. and what the fuck am i supposed to do? eat in a cave so as not to tempt him with my normal fare of big salads loaded with cheese and eggs?

as i'm getting ready to go to the grocery store for the weekly shopping, i'm looking at this sparse list of foodstuffs:

apples (green)
tuna (lots)
shit for fuss (not literally, you know what i mean)

i think this time i have to back up his machinist diet and buy some of his favorite snacktime snacks to hide and pull out and be the hero when he decides that he's actually hungry.

how long would you last?

i give myself three days, max, if anyone were ever able to drug me and convince me that it was a good idea to begin with.

i lurk you

blah blah blah blahg blahg blog blog bloggy blog blog.

i'm here, not that i expect you to notice... but i feel that i should at least make some sort of mention to the fact that i've been ignoring blogland for quite some time now.

i really don't have any reason for my absence, but i will say that it is definitely true to my character. i tend to end things abruptly, turn my back, and walk away never thinking twice about burning bridges.

so really, blog, you're lucky i felt bad for creating you and then leaving you hanging to come back here and give a little reconciliation an honest try.

if you, blog, were a garden that i nurtured and tended to so dearly in the warm summer months, you would have repaid me heartily in brightly colored blossoms and fruits. now the long, dark winter has turned my mind from the joy of your bounty and i am no longer satisfied with gazing upon your barren soil and forlorn stems.

i'm not like the other bloggers here in blogland, blog. i don't need to write. i don't write to fill a void, or to express things i cannot say in person. i write because i like to write. i like to tell stories.

but sometimes, i get bored with hearing my own point of view drone on and on in the same vein. i don't know how to change how i think, nor do i care to. i don't want to blog each and every minute detail of my life in some sort of journal-esque fashion. i don't want to write ridiculous and outlandish things to make myself stand out in the ocean of bloggers.

i really don't know what i want.

i want to not feel like a guilty schmuck for ignoring all the really nice bloggers out there who sent me heartfelt holiday wishes. i want to not feel overwhelmed with the reality of other bloggers, on the other side of a monitor, reading my words in their real lives somewhere.

it was way easier to blog before i realized i had an audience, albeit a small one.

maybe that means i'm self-conscious, although i'd never admit to that.

maybe i just need to change my perspective a little.

or a lot.

maybe that will be my work in progress.

maybe i'll just hope that no one will mind if i pretend to be invisible even though i'm really here.