HELLO WORLD!

So I hope you all noticed right away when my new set Country Couture went into member review, because I've been too busy and frazzle brained and internetless to come shove it down your throats until now!!





Yes, this summer I was whisked off to Joshua Tree by four sleazy men in a big dirty van where my usual drinking and stripping happened to be captured (and put together fabulously) by the talented and cuter than anyone should beLorelei Suicide.

AAA goddamn I am at this internet cafe on a junky stretch of Sunset Boulevard trying to type this thing up in 7 more minutes and the a button is sticking and people keep talking to me....


So, I've been really busy at my new job dancing on a shiny stage with shiny poles to swing and shimmy on wearing shiny outfits and painful shoes. Also I rub my ass all over creepy old men and put my crotch in their face. This results in me coming home with hundreds of one dollar bills drunk outta my head each night..


.. ah shit time's up I gott hit post!

Every now and then, when the guy who lives above us has a shower, water pours out of our bathroom ceiling, wall, and window frame. It was actually sort of timely on tuesday, as it happened right after Stephen was musing that he wished it would rain. The plumber came the next morning. He brought in a table from the patio, stood on it and analyzed our ceiling...
Stephen was watching the plumber analyze and I was asking him to grab my crossword book from the can so I could do my morning crossword/coffee/cigarette which is fully necessary so I can continue with my day when the earthquake hit. Unfortunately I missed it. Stephen and the plumber shoved me under a doorway shouting "earthquake!" and I was just like dang...
Anyways, I digress.
The plumber, in order to see what was wrong with the uh, plumbing, decided to remove a large portion of our bathroom ceiling and then disappeared. When I first came to LA there was the same problem - and a large hole in the bathroom ceiling, however, the NEW hole in the ceiling is right above where I sit down in the tub, and let the shower come to me (because I am lazy)
Because our building was built in the 1920s or 30s, I have to sit in my lazy shower spot and stare up at a bunch of rotten lookin wood that smells like burning heroin. I stare at the bottom of Luther's dirty old bathtub and wonder if I'll think it's weird or something if he gets in there, even though I cant see him. I can't masturbate, because I keep thinking about the strange husky man who lives upstairs and paces on his old, creaky floors until 2 or 3 in the morning and then gets up to sort through his coupons every day stationed in front of the recycling bin...
And I sort of have to wonder if at any moment his bath water is going to start pouring out of the gaping hole in my ceiling onto ME or my case with 5 black eyeliners ALL of which I need on a daily basis, or the fancy fuzzy bath mat that I bought on my first trip to target or...

lost my train of thought.



Paul Chesne and my husband are serenading me and each other.
I'm gonna try to do a guerilla shoot tomorrow - right now I need to concentrate on this beer.





... oh neat, the sun's coming up...

The mood of late has been ominous, empty. It's hot and everyone is laying low, sweating like grumpy overheated beasts with shit and garbage in their water bowls.
I will chase more amusing pursuits. Whiskey and pills, flowers. I'll pretend it's 1968... hell, might as well.

why is my vomit always red?
i left a halibut sashimi and jack daniels inspired red sunburst pattern on la brea avenue for today's passers-by to enjoy.
i'm off to the showers now, but i feel that my job interview today will be a difficult task nonetheless.