So I went bathing suit shopping today hoping to get a new suit to go to the lake tomorrow. Yes, lake. Bathing suit shopping is the worst. Trying to find one with minimal tanlines without being completely naked and doesn’t scream whore.
This has nothing to do with mushrooms except for the fact that we spend so much time at this newly discovered store called Con Olio that the bathing suit place was closed by the time we were done :-/ Who closes at freaking 6PM on a Saturday.
However, Con’ Olio was an amazing find today. Just when I’ve came to terms that I will have to go to Seattle to get my truffle oil needs, we find this lovely little olive oil store that carries an insane variety of infused oils. Garlic oil, rosemary, truffle, blood orange, persian lime, you name it. We tasted a couple and decided to go with porcini oil and their 18 year dark balsamic vinegar (yes. it’s aged. like um. scotch.) It was so smooth that you can drink it like a port! WTF.
And I was way too excited to cook tonight as a result. I know, I’m getting domesticated and old and way too aroused about oil.
You’ve been acting awful tough lately
Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately
But inside, you’re just a little baby
It’s okay to say you’ve got a weak spot
You don’t always have to be on top
Better to be hated than love, love, loved for what you’re not
You’re vulnerable, you’re vulnerable
You are not a robot
You’re lovable, so lovable
But you’re just troubled
Not only do I want it done quickly but I am super neurotic about it. Moving with me is not an enjoyable experience. I get insane. Like shutup. Don’t talk to me and let me wash dishes at remarkable speed. The sooner I get done, the sooner I’ll be back to normal.
You know what makes it better? Veuve and roasted duck.
+
The apartment is quite lovely although I often forget that we live on the first floor and I hate wearing clothes. :-/
I decided it’s less about whether I like Austin, it’s just that I miss LA more. I miss things I didn’t know I loved … like the trannys at Target in WeHo. The taco trucks. The innate fabulousness. I can’t believe it’s only been a couple weeks. It feels like years. I guess living in corporate housing will drive you a little stir crazy.
However, it’s move in day! I can’t wait to fill up all 3 walk in closets. I wish all the closets were connected like through a tunnel or something. Cuz that would be sorta cool. I’d hide there and hang out and stuff. or smuggle midgets.
My friend used to have a hole that led from her closet to her sister’s closet in the next room. We thought we were so cool going through the closet instead of the door. Until I got fat and got stuck one day and then they boarded it up. It was a sad day.
Although our last goldfish got “released” at the park cuz we got sick of feeding them :(
#2: Pissing Shrimp
Let me tell you. I love pissing shrimp. So delicious. For the longest time, I thought pissing shrimps were hella pussy because they apparently pee when they are being killed.
But they are not. In fact, they are super gangster. Like the mobsters of the sea gangster. See for yourself.
Love is all a matter of timing.
It’s no good meeting the right person too soon or too late.
If I’d live in another time or place…
…my story might have had a very different ending.
Things That Are All Too Real of the Day: On first look, the iPad Style Shirt appears to be not a single lick more than a regular heavyweight cotton tee with a dinky vinyl-screened pocket on the front intended for the completely unnecessary practice of intrusively broadcasting the contents of your iPad to the world. But wait!:
“2 hidden port holes on the inside for headphones or charger.” (i.e. holes).
“Internal supports distribute weight of iPad across the body to prevent shirt distortion.” (LOLWUT.)
“Full mobility whether you are sitting down or walking.” (This was not at all a given!)
All this and so much less for only $50. May God have mercy on our souls.
In light of Inception, I found this poem I wrote in 2007 that reminded me of the movie. As far as the movie goes, I think even trying to analyze it would do it no justice.
Truth is subjective. Reality is as real as you can allow it to be. The more you tell a lie, the more you start believing it’s real. The more you walk in dreamland, the more you allow yourself to discredit the things you value in real life.
It’s sort of like drugs isn’t it? When reality becomes so painful, you walk on vicodin clouds. It becomes the reality you choose to live in. And life becomes glorious again. And least bearable. Whose to tell you that euphoria isn’t real.
And so it is.
________________________
Before I wake, before I sleep, middle of the night I indulge my senses with the taste of you Feel your warmth, inhale the slight cologne I take enough so that you can walk in my dreams Follow me through trenches Run through dark cemeteries Race through hallways of an abandoned school Build up anxiety and panic at whatever sick, twisted reality that I manifest If the creatures of delusions could speak, they would tell you that I’m a sick fuck They would tell you it’s useless to run It’s my world I stop, play, pause as I please Don’t worry In dreamland, you’re always my hero The one I follow to the edge of the cliff The one I close my eyes and trust The one who valiantly attempts to rescue me When I foolishly put myself in the midst of danger But you never make it in time Each and every time I watch from the heavens of dreamland Feed on your panic as you discover that I’m gone Dead, beaten, bruised, choked, damaged Whatever little deaths I desire Enough pain to wake you in your sleep Enough insecurities to rollover to the day To make you tighten your grip around my waist Whisper I love you’s in my ear Ask me if I love you back in your hazy wake
Tell me you can never let me go We’ll talk again in dreamland
There is a point in every girl’s life when she confuses adrenaline as passion and happiness as boredom.
There’s a negative stigma that surrounds ‘simple’ and ‘easy’. As if accepting that you have a perfect partner and perfect lifestyle somehow means you’re lacking something. As if accepting perfection is settling. A promising future, wealth, stability and traditions…all the things that you supposed to want. Having all of these things must mean you aren’t truly in love.
Because doesn’t love mean drowning?
In amazing highs and excruciating lows. Those days of dark, difficult, distant pining HAS to mean something more. The pain must be proof that you’re MORE in love. That this intensity of roller coaster emotions somehow makes this love more legitimate.
Then I realize how retarded this was. Just because something is easy, we’re quick to discredit it. The more difficult it is, the more value we place on it.
And then you realize you were only in love with the idea of love. The idea of a broken heart. Wanting to be a flesh and blood character in a tragic love song.
And you’re not an angst ridden adolescent anymore.
![I’d show a bigger set of boobs.
thedailywhat:
Things That Are All Too Real of the Day: On first look, the iPad Style Shirt appears to be not a single lick more than a regular heavyweight cotton tee with a dinky vinyl-screened pocket on the front intended for the completely unnecessary practice of intrusively broadcasting the contents of your iPad to the world. But wait!:
“2 hidden port holes on the inside for headphones or charger.” (i.e. holes).
“Internal supports distribute weight of iPad across the body to prevent shirt distortion.” (LOLWUT.)
“Full mobility whether you are sitting down or walking.” (This was not at all a given!)
All this and so much less for only $50. May God have mercy on our souls.
[technabob.]](http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l60lw8YrVI1qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
