aaaaaare you shitting me?
June 8, 2010
I trust you know what to do with this information: http://www.japanla.com/detail.php?design=2265
Also, eat it Captcha. There needs to be less steps between my URLs and me, not more.
-CJ
My friend Ashley supplies an almost constant flow of entertainment from her post in Wyoming. Example: World’s Best Relationship Tips
If you were ever going to learn a thing or two about yourself and your sig-o, let it be from an instructional featuring such images as:
(Note tiny caption: Kee-f*cking-yai, motherf*cker)
Probably the best way to combat jealousy is with macaroni art. Everyone loves macaroni art. It is a symbol for good intentions, thoughtfulness and love. And if you use enough glitter, she’ll forget she ever felt anything less than unadulterated adoration for you.
YES.
“I DIED, and then laughed myself into a second death.” –Ashley
Thank you, love.
-CJ
new favorite word
May 11, 2010
muliebrity \myoo-lee-EB-ri-tee\, noun:
The state of being a woman.
gorgeous, wide hips, bleeding, cramping, lotion on freshly shaved skin – or not, combat boots or heels and the option of wearing both in the same day, making sixty-three cents to his one dollar, debating on your means to control your reproductive system and fighting teeth and nails for the right to do so, glorifying hot ass androgyny, lipstick, applauding the matriachy where you can find it, reaching out to your sister(s), owning the innate mama bear inside you, contricting your chest with elastic and wires and sighing heavily at the end of the day when the bra hits the floor, slow moving grace, clumsy tomboys, deliciously scented powders and oils from top to bottom…
From an article in the Washington Post, What It Takes To Be a Woman:
Jenny Ouellet, a 24-year-old who has seen her share of hard times, recognizes [the difference between being a girl & being a woman]. She wrote to me a month ago from her home in northern Massachusetts, fed up with a lack of confidence she was seeing in some of the young women she knew.
It’s not that she didn’t know how they felt. When she graduated from high school, she traveled with rock bands, lost the man of her dreams and ended up with 32 tattoos and a baby. She went to work in a music store, started paying off debts, learned how to cook and is raising her little boy, now 3, by herself, with some financial support from the boy’s father.
Making a life for herself and her son, virtually alone, forced her to realize who she was and what she was capable of as a female.
“It’s not what I wear or how I do my hair,” she wrote me. “I’m convinced it’s that I carry myself with confidence. I don’t feel like I’m the all-around perfect catch, but I’ve been through enough to know I’m a great mother, a loving daughter, an honest friend, a great lover and someday, I’ll make a great wife. You grow into the title of woman.”
And then you wear your title forever, with pride.
-CJ
the internet’s favorite eleven-month-old
May 10, 2010
My adamant refusal to allow this week to suck was aided so much by the eighteen second video at the end of this post: http://dooce.com/2010/05/06/baby-bird
Sound is unnecessary. The expression around 16 seconds has guaranteed me a happy thirty-six hours, solid.
If you don’t squeal or wiggle or express your joy with some immature bodily sound or movement, clearly you’re insensitive. My being easily pleased almost every day of the week has absolutely nothing to do with this.
-CJ
My newly pregnant friend (!!) seems to be experiencing all of the textbook symptoms and occurances as her body changes. She started a Twitter account for her newly acquired, highly sensitive sense of smell and she is cracking my shit up.
From I Can Smell That:
- I’m pretty sure that the woman who was sitting three rows in front of me at church used Suave coconut shampoo.
- MULCH. :keels over:
- Forget beds; it’s separate rooms from now on. I woke up six times last night due to the combination of garlic, beer, and toothpaste breath.
- It’s like… Chef Boyardee and wet dog.
Send soothing, happy thoughts to her senses.
-CJ
most thankful for
November 26, 2009
plastic applicators, glitter on anything but my hands, gourmet cupcakes, bangs, bobbypins, cheap jewelry, Japanese beer & liquor, Russell Martin, push-up bras, slippers, mutt-bitches with nothin’ but love, chunky as all hell ice cream, hips, boobs, other peoples’ babies, travel mugs, garlic, knee socks, park picnics, sand in my feet or in my shoes - who cares, Belgian waffles, aaaall my frenz, peacoats with big buttons, indoor plumbing, fruit punch, bendy straws, fried rice, camera phones, giggles, bamboo plants, Modern Family, heart shapes in my food, mashed potatoes, a good spatula, Rheanna Ryan, fried egg sandwiches, hoodies, vibrators, good books & booklights, Nag Champa, rainbows, my baby girl, robots, low brow art, your mom, my body pillow, boy soap, cheap wine, lavendar baby oil, hedgehogs, zebra blankets, sleepovers, road trips, koala bars, mimosas, all nighters, iced coffee, the moon, hotel rooms and orgasms.
Happy Thanksgiving. I’m off to Lake Havasu.
-CJ
re: your ironic pornstache
November 24, 2009
Again, this girl gets the win for awesome.
http://kittenhiccups.tumblr.com/post/240724768/fuck-i-am-so-fucking-sick-of-the-obsession-with
Ditto and amen and high five.
-CJ
tribute
November 24, 2009
In homage to Cunt: A Declaration of Independence by Inga Muscio, I lit my tricep on fire… or so it feels fourty-eight hours later:
-CJ
yes means yes
November 24, 2009
A friend just unknowingly hooked me on yes means yes. They’re the kind of posts that make me want to scream, jump, hug and punch simultaneously. (ie impossible to comment on.) So I just push my glasses further up my nose and keep reading.
-CJ
I heart OB
November 17, 2009
Friday night saw me bounding out of the office and into the passenger seat of my car. Ree drove us the hour and a half er so out to Ocean Beach to meet up with some out of town friends I see maybe 2-3 times annually. The plan was to see Doug Stanhope at a little club but the universe had other ideas in mind.
The camera is totally drunk.
The air was perfect for my peacoat reunion, as we stayed just off the ocean at a little hotel with a kickass courtyard between us and the sand.
Those vases in the distance, over the stairs? At one point I was among them, hanging out and wondering what in the hell possessed me to climb up there when the trip down looked so much scarier.
Our friends, Kevin & Megan, arrived later than intended due to Friday evening traffuck and accidents and the like. They were still in good spirits and this was reason to toast and laugh our asses off for a bit at a little Irish pub with live music. The Stanhope show had started while they were on the freeway and probably ended around our third pint glass.
Next door was a-fucking-mazing pizza, a live bagpipe/drum group, and a funny shirt:
After dinner and some late night courtyard shenanigans involving us performing as caged animals to startled onlookers (don’t ask) at the hotel, there was beach walking, revisiting the Irish pub and then a quiet dumpy dive nearby that kicked us out at closing time.
On Saturday morning Kevin brought a damn good latte up to our room and I inquired as to whether or not I could pull off a ‘fancy hat’ (or what some people know as a newsboy cap) that I saw Shannyn Sossamon wearing on TV. The panel declared that I probably could though I don’t think they cared much.
Off to a beach front café, under the shade of an umbrella, in the perfect weather with mimosas by the plastic bucket.
It was very happy.
Tell me the bucket idea isn’t cute. YOU CAN’T.
Lazy wandering led to easily scoring several Christmas presents for assorted frenz & fam AND? I got a fancy hat. Which I wore for two days straight and took one super corny picture in. I think I love having a plaid clad dome.
One rooftop cantina + margarita pitcher later and we had to say our goodbyes and get back to hometown for a quick nap, a long shower and a birthday gathering. Ree and I met with Kristine and Robert to celebrate Kristine’s first annual 29th birthday at an amazing deli/bar. There were sandwiches and frosty drinks. It was love.
Later at a huge karaoke bar, I got fed the fuck up with women and the men that love them. Lesson learned: without clothing that appears to be painted on, abundant cleavage, and a high pitched laugh, you don’t deserve service or manners in general. It was a damn shame I left my cat suit at home and remembered to wear a shirt.
And then I met two very cute, very sweet, very funny girls in the bathroom and the faith in much of my douche-tastic generation started to restore.
Overall the weekend did nothing for my lingering, nagging cold but it did wonders for my overwhelmed mind, as good times with friends tend to do.
-CJ
