I don't know how to say this: Sigh. The set is not going up. Waaaaaaaaaaa!! Its ok though, I realize the lighting did suck and my attempt at artsy-ness may have fallen short. So sorry to hype then disappoint. But I did get some pretty new earings...

I don't know how to say this: Sigh. The set is not going up. Waaaaaaaaaaa!! Its ok though, I realize the lighting did suck and my attempt at artsy-ness may have fallen short. So sorry to hype then disappoint.

Here's the problem with drinking to forget one's problems or attempting self anesthesia, in the morning (if you manage to live through texting while driving drunk) you still have the same problems, and they hurt worse. Physically, like my head for example, and the rest of my poor body that feels like its been poisoned with Bacardi, Jemeson, and Dos XX...

And all because of one man and a really ridiculous tattoo that broke my heart.

(to be continued)

I'm sorry everyone!!! I didn't realize that my set isn't up for everyone to see yet, I got all excited and feel like a.... hmmm, whats a good word, dork? Anyway, come back in a while or maybe I'll send out messages again when its up, because I think its pretty rockin. I got experimental. It also involves Voodoo dolls!!

Fear Not I Have Returned!!!

So there is this art show, whatever thing, "Art In The Raw" show at my school and I have this unrequited love there who usually shows his photography at such venues (but he has never put up the pictures he took of me, instead he hangs pictures of his Indian princess... maybe because mine are nudes, IDK, but I feel scorned). So I got it in my head that I would paint a masterpiece of such epicness that he would feel like a mere flashlight next to a glowing galaxy of Lolita Sordid wonder and glory, oh yes, glory! Never-mind that i am a writer and at best an amateur photographer.

So I've been dead set on painting something grand, something so grand that it would cause this unrequited love to leave his Powwow Princess and let his hair down and bring a herd of wild horses to my mother and whisk me away to live in paradise, and maybe get this other sexy sexy man to realize I am way too cool for school and leave his Goddess of a girlfriend (who is one of the best artists I've ever seen) and also bring me a herd of ponies and whisk me away to live in his sexy loft (never mind he can't afford the heat)... maybe have an epic dual with Mr Unrequited in the name of ME...

So you see, a lot is hanging (so-to-speak) on this painting. But I have no idea what to paint, I can't think of anything that is epic enough to change the will of the universe and I'm a god-awful painter so I have to figure that into the equation. Whatever I paint has to appear to be purposely awful. Its all VERY STRESSFUL and I've been about to explode all weekend under the pressure. I managed to paint a canvas black. Then I cried to my mom for a while because I'm a complete waste of space and should drop out of art school and flip hamburgers for the rest of my days.

I'm distraught. Last year writers matted poems and hung them but that is the gayest thing I have ever seen and I refuse to stoop to that level of neediness. Nobody wants to read a matted poem for god sakes. No body cares about poets at an art show and since I am clearly never going to be the next Kandinsky I will never paint a masterpiece, I will never win the affection of my love and I will be doomed to live out my days alone.

Somebody get me a bottle of pills.

I've decided to write a story about my apartment complex. It would be a tale of sex, betrayal, and voodoo dolls. In other news, I'm packing my bags for my last summer hoorah before I have to go back to school and enter the world of scheduled engagements. I'd like to say more but duty calls.

I'm taking my puppy to the doggie doctors today, wish us luck.

For whatever reason, this has turned into my official rant page, never-mind getting another photo set in, no, no, I'm too busy be totally pathetic and self involved. I've decided to list my bad qualities in an attempt to find the light at the end of the (fill in the blank) _________. Ok, ready? Lets begin. I'm an undependable, narcissistic, image obsessed looser who lets everyone down. Oh no, I'm not finished, I'm also lazy, hopelessly attracted to evil bastards, depressed, addicted, anti-social, I have a twisted ankle, and, oh did I mention I let everyone down??

Alright, enough of that malarky. Now let me clarify.

I hooked up with my ex and got busted by my neighbor. My faithful subscribers will remember that I have been pining over the neighbor boy for some time now. For those of you who are new on the scene, lets recap:

I, with the help of my red-headed vixen friend, seduced the neighbor last month in a wild night of vulnerability (He and I had just been dumped and she has a list of issues a mile long). Anyway, he has been a dear to me ever since, i.e. he has made me pancakes, taken me to the movies, feeds me chocolate and lettuce (yummy!), hangs out, buddies up to my mom, but has been absolutely non-physical. Now my advisers tell me this is not abnormal and that its "healthy" and for me to be "patient", that he's "confused" or wants a "relationship", but I'm getting a little stir crazy.

I was given hope however on my birthday when he gave me a lingering hug, oh yes, lingering. Well, then I didn't see him for like two weeks and in the mean time my bi-polar ex (the one I was brokenhearted over when I seduced neighbor (and somehow can't seem to do it again) I blame his crazy self control, which I believe comes from his Aikido thing, anyway) So in the mean time, my bipolar ex comes out of his depression and calls me in manic-mode.

There are a few interesting things about this, 1) the night before he called I had been missing him real bad because I was sleeping in the blanket we first made-out in and it still had peanut-butter on it from us being high in the mountains trying to eat, and 2) I missed his call and just got his voicemail, but I knew it was from him before I heard his voice in like some sort of psychic connection.

And because I understand that he is totally bipolar and not in control of his emotions, I understand (even though it still hurt really bad) why he broke up with me. And because he is the second or third best lover I've ever had and I was on the verge of becoming a nun, I called him back. So he came over and through that thing we call fate, neighbor boy happened to be in the yard, locked out of the house, at the same time as ex and I were arriving home from food buying. Of course I was thrilled to see neighbor, being that this was the first time in a week or more so I went up and gave him some proper attention. Of course then he used the lame excuse of borrowing my phone to come over and investigate the situation. To make this short, he remembered ex's name and put it all together and I'm pretty sure he is aware that ex did not go home until very early the next morning, beeeeeeeause:

He called me yesterday, ok hold on, yesterday: I had to go out to my mom's and babysit our 16 year old dog because she has been sick. This is another reason I'm so morbid tonight. I brought her home and am going to take her to the vet but there has been a lot of talk about putting her to sleep and I'm just a wreck over it. She's ben my best buddy since I was 5.

So he called me last night to tell me (presumably) that he was sorry to hear that my dog was sick and that he didn't know I had a puppy. But once those niceties were out of the way his next words were (and I quote), "So that was Mister (insert ex's name)_________ huh?"

and I was like "yeah.....",

to which he responded with a, "Annnnnndddd???",

"And what? Its no big deal it was the first time I've seen him since everything...."

blabla covering my ass and then he goes, "Well your too good for him"

and then my phone died. And I get a terrible feeling about it all. His dad's been visiting him for weeks now and I took my pup over there tonight all in a shambles because he's some kind of doctor and I wanted him to take a look and he had a good bedside manner but I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a common tramp and wonders where that other nice girl got off to. Sigh.

Did I mention that I was so blinded by tears over my puppy shnowzer that I fell off some stairs and twisted the fuck out of my ankle?......

Oh yeah, and so yesterday I had texted neighbor to see if he wanted to do something on Sunday and he said he couldn't because its his dad's last day here, but tonight when I went over his dad said he was "out with friends" . The world is coming apart, and I haven't even told you why it is i believe i let everyone down.... as if it isn't obvious.

But before I get to that let me just reiterate how god-awful of an idea it is (in case any of you were questioning it) to get involved, in any way, with one's neighbor. As if it wasn't obvious thus far, now that I have been busted by neighbor for having a bit of fun with ex I realize that my lifestyle is in serious jeopardy if I hope to keep up any kind of innocent front for neighbor's sake. How in gods name am I supposed to see other men, especially my ex who is not just any man but someone dear to me, while I wait for neighbor to let his hugs linger longer if I can't bring them to my home?? I seriously think I have hit a turning point here in neighbor-vill. Our non-communication and avoidance of the "where is this going?" conversation is no longer cutting the mustard. On one hand I relish the ability to make him jealous and to have the free will to do as I please, but while I was with ex, as much as I love and care for him, as good as he is in bed and as much as I like to be around him (when he's pleasant) I want that frigging neighbor!! And I can't have anyone get in my way, and by "get in my way" I mean, get me busted. Sigh. So on the other hand I'm afraid I may, through my willfulness, have chased neighbor away... but, it is what it is and he can't run far because he lives next door and besides, he needs to step it up anyway. So the moral of that story is, I'm selfish and I have no idea what I want so i'm stringing innocent people along while I figure it out..... then again, how is that any different that what the neighbor's doing???

Moving on. So at the end of last semester I got involved briefly with this adorable, albeit young, Navajo boy, whom I have remained friends with. So I have been telling him all summer that I'd go see him (he lives in another state), which I obviously have not and have no intention of doing. Yes, thats another thing I do, I placate people.... sigh. And the other night in a moment of sobriety I told him that I would pick him up and drive him to a powwow in Montana. Now I'm not sure if I really believed I would do it at the time or if I was just having fun making unrealistic plans, because it wasn't twenty minutes later that I came to my senses and realized that of course I would not be driving to Montana for some fucking powwow with some kid I slept with once. Ok that sounded a little creepy, let me rephrase: With some guy I slept with once. Well he called me the next day and i told him that the deal was off and he got really pissy and hung up on me. Then he called a few times and I ignored him and then he called the next day and I answered and he was all "So I'm pretty sure your not going...." and I was like "yeah, I'm sorry I didn't mean to disappoint you...." to which he responded with a very pathetic "its ok, everyone does..." So now I feel like shit about that on top of everything else.

I haven't even gotten into how the complications with my ex, or how I seem to be blowing off all my friends and exhibiting other types of concerning behavior, but I think that this is enough bad news for one night. And now you all know what a scum bag I am.

XOXO
Lolita Sordid

ohhh shit, I have to work in the morning...

Well friends, this is day six of 21-ness and my first day of sobriety in.... quite a while... its harder than I thought it would be. Having just recently learned, in depth, about the calories in alcohol a few days ago, I began an attempt to steer away from beer and wine, more specifically, bottles of wine and cases of beer, and stick to whiskey, which I have developed quite an affinity for. However, I just learned about this thing called a liver......

Anyway, because I'm avoiding the bottle on the fridge, let me update you on the uselessness of my past 48 sordid hours. Lets see, I woke up at some point yesterday, oh yes, and I went to work at 11 instead of 2:30 (last time I showed up a day early, at least its better than late or not at all right) after work I picked up my deviant friend who is a red-headed banshee of a hell cat alcoholic (we only seem to hang out when I need an "enabler" or someone to help me seduce unsuspecting neighbor boys...) and we drank whiskey on the porch, actually, I drank whiskey and she just let her ice melt, which is strange, I've never known her to pass up on booze, especially free booze... I didn't get drunk per-say, in fact I drove her down the street, but its a hard life and a hot sumer so I ended up passing out for hours. I'm pretty sure I showered yesterday morning but I can't remember. When I woke up, I found that I was out of tampons, and not having the money for tampons (i swear to God if men got a rag those fucking things would be subsidized, mother-fucking seven bucks a box) or gas for my car, I conceived of the brilliant idea to walk the three miles to Whole Foods and buy one of those sea sponge things because A. they are like a dollar and B. some feminazi this one time said something about using them inspead of Kotex to like bring down "The Man" or whatever. So off I went, wearing the first shirt on the top of my laundry bag (this is proof right here that girls are not only human but are on occasion equally if not more disgusting than guys... especially when their man, or the neighbor that they are pining over is away and they have no witnesses). It happens to be a fantastic t-shirt that I not only wore all all of a few weeks ago, but worked out in last week as well. It fucking stinks. In fact I'm wearing it right now and its totally rank, but the funny thing is, its not just rank, its a cesspool of pheromones, so in its stinkiness, its actually kinda nice smelling (at least I know I'm still alive). Case and point, in my total beastly state, I was catching the attention of Whole Food hippie-men right and left, and I know it wasn't because of my dark circles and puffy eyes. But I digress. In case you were wondering, the sea sponge thing was a total waste of money, so my solution: I haven't changed my underwear in like two days. I figure hey, I'm not really going anywhere, there's nobody around, I'm hardly bleeding and they're black... (at this point its kind of like an experiment in hygiene).

So since I slept all day yesterday, I was up all last night like a crack head cleaning my bathroom, and then around 3 or 4AM a helicopter started buzzing around and I got a sudden streak of paranoia and started having visions of V for Vendetta and became convinced that "The Man" was going to come knocking and find my Communist Manifesto and other rebel-writings and take me to Guantanemo or some shit, so then I started trying to pry the floor boards up because I got the great idea that I would stash my books under the floor. However, this also proved to be a bad idea. (If my neighbors think I'm coked out it would not surprise me, ironically however, I am not, and shudder to think how it would be if I were.) Shortly after this I passed out.

This morning I was awoken by a masculine knock on the door. You can always tell a girl's knock from a guy's. It was my friend and former lover of an ever so brief moment in time. Luckily, the boy can't smell, he was just born that way, I have no idea what the biology is behind it, because you guessed it, I answered the door in the T-shirt and panties in question. (The stench has however gotten worse since then...) After he said his piece and went on his way I passed back out until 2:30. (I apologize that this is an all tell and no show kinda story, luckily this is the internet and not college.) At some point I put on a pair of cut-offs and a clean shirt and walked across town on official business (no money you see, they haven't made me pink on this site yet...) Whilst sitting in the office I kept smelling something akin to kelp, like disgusting harbor water. It wasn't until walking my ass back across town that I realized every sweating pore on my body was omitting vile toxicity, something like rotting moonshine. (This was another factor in my decision not to drink today.) When stopping at the consignment store to hustle a few dollars I was overcome by a mixture of apathy and shame, trying to keep my unshaven reeking armpits away from the customers and also feeling a little proud of the unkempt chain-smoking foul rock-star-esque condition I had/have assumed.

Which leads me to here, now, waiting for LOST to quite buffering on surfthechannel.com so I can obsessively watch the new love of my life, the miracle of God's creation, Sawyer, do his bad ass thing. You see, because the world disgusts me and I've burned all my booty-call bridges, and mostly because I still pine over my aloof neighbor, I haven't gotten laid in a millennium (which also has to do with my surrender and the condition I am now in). For the most part I have be totally fine with this, you see, I seem to have replaced that old sex addiction with Jim Beam, but today, I don't know if its the pheromones or the sobriety, but I'm willing to hump the world. Luckily for me, I work in a sex store.

The end, pointless you see.