Tuesday, January 24, 2006

It finally happened.
God finally smiled upon me.

The downstairs neighbor that nearly burnt the apartment building down, pounds on the door at 4 AM and continues to breathe despite my numerous (and polite) requests that she cease doing so immediately, is moving out.

Being the good neighbor that I am, I walked outside to make sure she was really leaving.

She comes running up to me.

"Oh my god, I'll pay you $2 for an empty beer or soda can".

Now, I've had a long few days and sometimes I'm awfully slow.
An empty can? I rarely drink anything out of cans. Thus I don't have empties around my apartment. I tell her this.

"FUCK! I've got nothing to smoke my weed out of."

I have only 2 things to say about this.
1. For $2, you can buy a FULL soda, dump it into a glass, and have it to drink for when you get cotton mouth. It even comes with a free can.

2. A soda can? You're smoking pot using an empty soda can as a makeshift bong? Have some self respect, take a teener off, and buy some decent paraphernalia. You are a disgrace to pot smokers everywhere. I'm sure if one of them wasn't too stoned to move, they'd kick her ass.
Or atleast eat all of her cheetos.

But atleast she's leaving!

I can get a good nights sleep again, and then maybe I won't be such a wench.

(A shoutout to Bligs for providing an accurate spelling of the word "paraphernalia". And a thankyou to thesuit for spelling it "Stuff".)

Monday, January 23, 2006

Fuck you, retail job.
Fuck you a lot.

I know if most people got a call from work saying "You don't have to come in all week, hours were cut",you'd do a little dance.

That lasted for 30 seconds.

Yay! No work! WOOT!

Then I remembered that I'm broke.


Keep up production, they say.
Keep selling, they say.

Well, now we have nothing to do, so we will cut your hours.


A blind, retarded kid coulda seen that coming.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Today pretty much blew goats.
I'll spare you all the stories of the negative numbers in my bank account, or the fact that one of my best friends can lean on me whenever she needs something but if I'm not in top form she acts like a huge raging bitch (she's had a bad few days too..She's sick..But not too sick to ditch me to get laid).
Instead, I'll give you the icing on the cake.

I got a speeding ticket.
I may have been going a little fast.

After getting shit from the cop as to why the car doesn't trace back to my name (it traces back to my dad's, we have the same last name and look exactly the same)this woman starts grilling me about why my car has plates from Minnesota.

I almost told her that it was because that's where I stole it from.

Tell them what they want to hear, that's my philosophy.

She then writes me a ticket for the speeding, the taillight that some asshole broke with a beer bottle, and get this.
Not wearing my glasses while driving.

Anyone who has known me for more than say, thirty seconds, knows that I am blind without some sort of corrective lens.
I don't mean "Can't read the bottom line on the eye chart" blind.
I mean, last time I was at the eye doctor, I couldn't even find the chart.
I'm not exaggerating.

So I told a woman with a gun, and a bright light in my eye that without my glasses on I wouldn't be able to even find the car to get in it.
She then asks me what I'm doing driving.

"I wear contacts".
She stared at me for a good fifteen seconds and said "Oh. I didn't even think of that! Contacts!"

Are you fucking kidding me?

And this woman has a gun.

She then followed me about 6 blocks up, and then passed me.
On the shoulder.
Without a signal.


Tuesday, January 17, 2006

It's been awhile since I posted completely wasted.
Thanks Cassie.
I think she wanted to get me drunk and take advantage of me.(yay for hot bartenders who are gonna come play with me cause I'm her girl!)

I think I've completely lost my mind.
I don't know what my problem is.
But I just can't let go. And that bothers me.
I've never had that problem.
"Fuck you too, asshole" has always been a big part of my vocabulary.
And I've tried.

And Tried.

And tried.

And I can't do it.

I dunno. I'm having an emo night. I saw The Heterolifemate, and I miss her so much.
Which feeds into the rest of my emo.

It's a vicious cycle.

Once I start the emo, It's like I can't stop.

Sometimes I really miss having a chin to kiss and someone to scratch my head.

It'll pass.

"Time heals all wounds".

And emo was her name-o.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

It was bound to happen someday.
You fuckers finally found me.

I hit the bar with the hetero-girlfriend.
You know, sling back a few beers at Mis B Havens, go home early and go to bed.
Which was horribly derailed with one statement. "You look exactly like this one chick from this blog I read".
"Clarissa, right?"
"Say My Name, Bitch?"
So I let him buy me a few beers, figure it was a fluke thing, and let it go.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
I went to go take a leak, and in the bathroom.
There's a girl sitting there.
"You look SO familiar."
"Do you write?"
"What's your name?"
"Clarissa?! OH MY GOD ITS YOU. I read your stuff all the time, all my friends love you. You're like, a celebrity".
Wash, rinse and repeat.
Twelve or so different people recognized me last night.
Out of nowhere.
So here.
Me signing my first autograph ever in my life. On a boob.

Someone sang a song to me about sex and shampoo bottles in interesting places.

I didn't have to buy a single drink.
A nod to the big irish bouncer who takes good care of me, even if he does make fun of how my tits get in the way of things.

I didn't even think anyone actually read this thing.
Shows what I know.
It was a strange colliding of my worlds.

To the 15 different people who bought me drinks last night, thankyou.

It was fun.

However, next time we need to alternate between beer and water, because I was definately totally in the bag.

If I didn't know better, I'd think some of my loyal readers were trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me.

I feel like Tucker Max...
But without the talent and good looks.