Once again, America is in the midst of a ridiculous holiday season. It's nothing new, not at all. Every year, the masses go out and buy stringed, colorful lightbulbs and oversized, stiff socks. They go out and they get their napkins decorated with leaves of fall colors or pilgrims with their stupid little hats. Spirit driven consumers spend the money they work so hard for on miniature books that actually just contain eight rolls of lifesavers. Evergreen trees sit in living room corners until they begin to wilt.
It makes me wonder how these traditions start. I don't mean which religion started it or what the point of it is. What I'm curious about is the human need for tradition and ritual. To some extent, it's a good thing to do something regularly. Routines make sense. Holiday traditions don't. At least not to me, really. I don't mean to be Scrooge-like or anything but so many people spend money that they shouldn't on Christmas gifts. Parents who may not have a lot of money feel inadequate because they can't get little Richard that new bicycle. It's all a gimmick to get you to buy stuff.
Thanksgiving is a good excuse to spend time with the family and that's wonderful. It's a little sad that you need an excuse, though. Really, family shouldn't feel obligated when Turkey Day comes around, to go home and eat with people who share some genes. If you don't want to spend time with your family, you shouldn't. Don't waste your time. You'd be wasting their time, too if you truly aren't interested in the company. Family isn't the most important thing. It certainly can be but it's not necessary. By family, there, I mean parents, siblings, uncles and such. If you have children of your own, it's different and you maybe should feel obligated.
The most wonderful time of the year is cold and chaotic. It's depressing to a lot of people. The roads get more dangerous.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
-N
“Brazilian wax. Sounds sexy. How painful could it possibly be?” Oh what a fool. What a damned sorry fool I was. Brazilians are out their fucking minds. I stopped in at my work to pick up my check, say hi to Danielle and pick up a few other things. I’d been considering waxing my lady business for some time at that point. The main attraction being a smooth alcove that lasts longer than shaving. So I buy the Brazilian wax, foregoing the anesthetic numbing spray, which was a huge mistake. Possibly the biggest of my life. I can never un-remember the pain. Right when I get home I pop the jar of wax into the microwave and open the package of cloth strips. I was just a naïve young girl then. Not a care in the world, simply looking foreword to a hairless honey pot. I had no idea. I got a little twinge of fear upon smoothing the wax, almost too hot, onto the target zone. “Wow. That is a pretty sensitive area. Um…huh...” Kinda scary. But I put the strip on, took a nervous breath, bit my lip and tore that son of a bitch right off. The following sound that ensued was not an exclamation of surprise. It wasn’t just an acknowledgement of discomfort. It wasn’t like, “Damn that fucking hurts.” More like, “My god. What have I done?” It was a full-blown uncontrolled scream of pain, and a cry of terror that I might not have my beloved bikini biscuit anymore. I had to literally (in the most literal sense of the word) brace myself on the counter and recollect my thoughts. Oh. My.God. As shockingly excruciating and painful as it was, I repeated this process, step for step, about seven times, hoping against hope each time that it would get less painful. It didn’t. It also didn’t in any way make my panty hamster look more attractive. You know how a dog will chew on its ass until it gets all bloody and shiny, with a few angry red bald spots? Yeah. Not many people see that and go “Damn, I have GOT to stick my dick in that!” Except for people like Sanders, and do I really need to say any more there? But I’m thinking that this product was definitely intended for the more hearty, callused salmon canyon, and not my delicate little flower. I know now. For those caring souls out there who would like to know, my whisker box will get a little better every day, but the mental scarring remains. So if I could ask you, please take a moment of silence and bow your head in remembrance of this day. Never again.
-Alex
So I work at this beauty supply store. It’s pretty easy, I just put nail polish away, organize the hair dye, maybe sweep the floor. Nothing is really very demanding or stressful, and for the most part I enjoy working there. Nothing really to get excited about. Except when it comes to loss prevention. Now, beauty products are expensive. I understand that five to seven dollars for a small tube of lip gloss is a proverbial ball breaker. Paying almost $90 dollars for a weave is, to me, a sign that your parents must not have loved you enough as a child. That’s probably why we have such an insanely high theft rate. What I mean to say is, bitches steal. One of our jobs, as an employee, is to stand there and stare at the customers who exhibit the typical behavior of thieving bitches. This includes talking loudly, asking stupid questions, a group that splits up throughout the store, going through product forever without deciding and long loud discussions of what friends think they should or shouldn’t get. That’s right you guys, the typical profile of people who steal from our store are teenage emo girls, this one coked out gay guy, and large, loud, hyphy black bitches. The teenage emo girls I have no problem with. They get scurred and run once I start looking at them, or asking them if they’re going to pay for their four-dollar jar of Manic Panic. The gay guy, though very frightening, is always accompanied by some chick holding a bundled baby (which never cries, and is never seen: I swear, it’s fake), and for some weird reason that makes him easier to approach.
But the big hyphy black girls are what’s gonna getcha. We call them Shaboomikas, And Shaboomikas get reeeeaal mad. Of course they only get mad because they’re trying to steal, and they know you know. But they’re so hateful guys, even if they’re calling you bro. I’ve been called a bitch multiple times, been told fuck you, and even just completely been sidestepped as they walk out the door with, oddly enough, our cheapest hair dryer and with a “Fuck you, bro” as they left. I’m even pretty sure I saw someone’s car waiting in the parking lot outside. Is it worth it? I get paid $8.50 an hour, which I believe is a whopping ten cents above minimum wage. I’m not a little bitch, but god help me, I’m small. Is it worth it to build up an army of scary large black girls who hate me, and think they can talk shit? Probably. Gotta get paid.
-Alex
A very good friend of mine had to make a very short film for a class at ITT and he wanted me to be apart of it. Unfortunately, shooting started late and I had to leave.
It's a mockumentary about a group of friends who meet up and play Monopoly, every Monday. Sounds like fun, sure. The drama ensues when one of them becomes a little obsessed over the classic game. Check it out.
Ronnie, Doug, and Jessie doing there thing. Jessie portrays a great character.
I want a Monopoly towel.
Late,
N.
There's a thing known as the "BME Pain Olympics." This occurs at barbecues held by the people who do Body Modification Ezine (BME)
It's a sort of rite of passage, where people drink hot sauce, see how much weight they can carry from peircings, forehead pulling, ect. There is no prize, apart from the attention and being featured in an Ezine.
I explain that to explain this: I recently found an old video of myself, watching the "BME Pain Olympics: Final Round" video online. It was one of those stupid reaction videos. You watch me watch horrible things because who doesn't like people watching. I also did one with "2 girls, 1 cup"
In the time since, I have heard and read that it was a hoax. I believe it, although I haven't seen the video in years. Still, when the video was recorded, I was told that it was real. It's kind of hard for me to watch, now. I was super goofy.
Good times..
-N.
I was poking around online when I came accross an intriguing link. It took me to a slideshow of pictures containing one polar bear eating parts of another. Although disturbing, it was interesting to me. In nature, not many animals eat members of their own species. According to a US led scientific study, this is due to global warming and their hunting ground melting away. I don't know enough about global warming to have a strong opinion about it either way and I'm not sure that this would convince me but I have to admit that it's strange.
Click for source and Slideshow
This picture, along with the other pictures in the slideshow (that this picture is linked to) were taken North of a city called Churchill, in Canada.
I wonder what kind of repercussions this might have. No more white teddy bears? Will people stop thinking they're adorable and cuddly? Will they lose their endorsement deal with Coca Cola?
I guess only time will tell.
Take care of eachother; we're all we got.
-N.
This isn't the format that I want to use for my blog but it's a start. It's been a thought of mine for a while, starting a blog, and I've grown tired of just thinking about it. Come along with me, and we'll find out if I have anything interesting to say here. We'll see if I really want to do this at all. Maybe we'll even get a peek at my ass tattoo. For X-mas, I'm supposed to be getting a camera. Once that happens, it's on. Oh boy, it's on.
In other news, this isn't solely going to be me. I've got some friends with interesting ideas and shit that they should throw down.
Remember who loves you
-N
