Rock Star Hour

My penis is HUGE!

I'm so sick and tired of boys trying to be original. I always want to think they're different, but it's the same shit. For example, the following list.

Top 10 Worst and Most Overused Break-up Lines

1. "I just want to be friends."

2. "I don't want a relationship right now."

3. "It's not that I don't care. I've just been single for a long time, and I'm set in my routine."

4. "You're everything I want in a girl, and I'll probably be jealous of anyone you date, but I just don't want you."

5. "You don't want to date me. I'll just lose interest after three weeks, and you'll hate me."

6. "I won't treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

7. "You're out of my league."

8. "You're not my type."

9. "I think you're really hot, but ..." or "You're the coolest girl I've ever dated, and I'm not blowing smoke up your ass, but ..."

10. "I'm sorry. I was just lonely."

Words to the Wise, or Tips for the Ladies

Be on your guard and steer clear of him if ...

1. His favorite band is Bright Eyes or The Cure.

2. He spends all his money on weed or alcohol.

3. He's a self-proclaimed "sensitive" guy.

4. He has to invite his friends EVERY time you hang out. You are probably not actually dating, even if his words or physical actions suggest otherwise.

5. He uses the words "hanging out" to refer to a date. Even if I just did. Fuck it. Or if he calls you "dude" or "man" when you call him, like, "Hey man, what's up?" These words can be sharp indicators of your status as one of the guys, even if he has seen you naked.

6. He seems to have his shit together. It may at first be exceptionally hot that he has other priorities such as homework, until you realize it's only because he doesn't like you enough.

7. He spends more time on his hair than you do.

The moral of the story

When I grow up, I want to have a penis. It would be great to have a separate entity you could blame everything on when it's not going your way.

Girls don't have the option of saying, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking with my dick."

Well, I'm going to start, because you know what? My penis is HUGE!

I wonder when my mind will stop wandering.

I'm sick as shit. Been sick since Sunday night. But, Cara, you may be asking, you were just sick like a month-and-a-half ago. I know, and it fucking sucks.

I blame the weather. My grandpa would say I've been kissing too many boys, but ...

Wes, the boy I am dating, has not called me in more than a week, minus a few text messages my friend Anja says don't count. His birthday is tomorrow ...

I had to go to school today because I had my Italian midterms. I took the written one this morning and had the orali this afternoon.

The good news is I got an A on l'esame orali. My professor told me. Yay.

The bad news is I think I might have bombed the written, meaning I did not get an A. I'd be surprised if I did as well as a B even. I fucked up. The test was over six chapters or so, with a disproportionate amount of material stemming from the chapter she covered just last week, which I unfortunately, neglected to study as well as the others.

My professor was confident I did well, though, because I have been doing well. I told her what happened, and she said I'd have a chance to make corrections. Phew.

It's just that I would feel like a total loser if I didn't make straight A's this semester. Because I only have eight hours and I don't even have a job. I feel so much like a bum so much of the time, when I'm not gloating about it, hah.

I've been seeing a career counselor. He told me not to talk about it with people so much because I need to start thinking about what I really want, which is why I haven't written about it, but sometimes I feel like since I started this process I am even more confused, when my aim was to come out of it less confused.

I came back to school wanting to graduate a.s.a.p. I need to do something else. I want to get out of here. I'm terrified at the whole "starting my life" thing, and the fact that life after a degree won't start until I'm more than a quarter-century old.

I think too much.

Now, if I want to give thought to what I really want to do, I may have to consider putting off my graduation to three years from now instead of two, unless I want to spend the next two on a degree I may or may not use. Or maybe two years if I wanted to start going in the summer, but I don't really want to give up camp.

And then I think about why camp is so important to me, and that maybe I'm overlooking or putting off a career somehow related or that could be just as fulfilling, but I have no idea what that is.

Yes, and venting to a computer or to you isn't helping the congestion in my head. I need to get some sleep.

Agenda

I had fun last night. I went with Wes and Renee, my roommates, to a warehouse party, which we got into for free because we're cool. Or they are, and I am by association.

After we left the party, Wes and I went to Numbers for about the last hour they were open. I actually danced with somebody, so that was cool.

I think I'm giving up on dating altogether again. I completely suck at it.

On today's agenda:

a) studiare il pronomi tonici, oggetto diretto e indiretto, e tutti i verbi per l'esame orali, ecc.

b) figure out what I'm going to do about this defensive driving crap for a ticket I got in Pasadena on my way to pick up Craig in like November.

c) play some guitar? sounds good.

d) karaoke with Dave and the boys? or

e) Buxton @ Helios. 9 p.m.

Buxton's cool but karaoke rules. Hmm ...

Today

Today for breakfast I had a banana nut muffin and a diet coke. For lunch I had Nilla Wafers and Spicy Cheezits. For a late-night snack I had the same. I did not eat dinner. Who says you can't be healthy and vegetarian?

I watched American Idol. All five of my favorite people from the beginning made it into the top 10: Scott, Bo, Constantine, Nadia and the girl whose name starts with a V, I think, but I never remember it even though she's dope. I also like Carrie and she's still in too. Yay.

I think I walked at least six miles. I walked far to the bus stop. And then I walked around school. Then after school I came to Montrose and had a long walk. I got an iced tea and went to the park by the Menil. I studied. I listened to my favorite songs. And I did that thing I used to love where I pick a tree and lie under it in a spot with the greatest mix of sun and shade and laid down and stared up at the leaves blowing in the wind in the sunlight.

I went to the Menil. I spent time looking at some of my favorite paintings. Some of them I forgot. I missed Shaun because I remembered the time we went there and laughed at the Georgio De Chirico "Metaphysical Interior with Biscuits." Some of the things were still my favorite. Still love Hector and Andramache. Still love Max Ernst. Still love Mondrian. Noticed something about Ernst's sculptures today. They at first appear kind of silly, but the shadows of the pieces are perfect. It was almost as if he created them that way just so they could cast those shadows. The shadows on the walls expressed the names of the work even more. I don't know if I could explain it better than that. If I could show you, I would.

I updated my MySpace page. I added the Usher video for "Burn." I love that song. And the video. I think only Usher could dance around that car in that way and look sexy rather than like a fool.

I really enjoyed my Italian class. I'm becoming much more confident. I'm looking forward to the mid-term next week so I can be less stressed out. Smooth sailing after that. But it's Tuesday, so I don't have to wait that long. And I feel almost ready. And will be.

Today has been so weird. It started out amazing. The weather was beautiful. And my class ended early, and I got some exercise. Hanging out at the park couldn't have been better. Except I wish I had some company. Or at least my guitar. All I brought with me was what I took to school.

Then tonight I just got into this horrible mood. It just took me. Well, that's not exactly right. But anyway, I was overtaken by this feeling of just being inadequate.

I am so tired of being confused. I wrote one time that confusion was romantic. Well, either it isn't or I'm not. Not a romantic anymore, I mean. Cause damnit if I just don't want to know something. And today, I don't feel like I know anything. Except the fact that I don't. Like in Plato's Apology or something, except I don't feel wise at all.

Not at all. I feel so young, and it's not like I'm in a hurry to grow up but I just am sometimes.

I watched this episode of The Simpsons tonight, and all Lisa's friends wanted to have a dance at school and dress up and have dates and stuff. Lisa didn't. She said something about only have nine or ten years in life to play with toys and eat with her mouth open, and she wanted to enjoy it.

Durrr ...

I just made another one. I am lame. So, um, take it. It'll be cool.

It's here and the scoreboard's here.

Hoo!

It's getting late, but boy, coffee is great.

I made a Quiz. Click here to take it and then see the scoreboard.

Come on, you know you want to. But I'm not making any promises that it's cool.

Whew! I've had wayyyyyy too much coffee.

I'm going to marry Spiderman

Yay for good moods.

I got two A's today. Not one. Two.

The first one was on an italian test over il futuro (the future tense). Then I got an A on my Media and Society midterm, which is 30 percent of my grade.

I rule.

I own.

Then I hung out with my friend Luis. We went to Mai's. Rock on. And then Slick's. I love hanging out with Luis, because he cracks me up.

He told me about the time he asked this chick if she wanted to go home with him and blow up his inflatable chair. Fuckin' A. He always says shit like that. Haha. The thing is he actually has one though, hah. Some Miller Lite chair er something that he got at a sporting event.

And if lines like that don't work, he's like, "What? So, I guess a blow job's out of the question?" Hahaha. I'm terrible. I think shit like that is hilarious. The dirtier, the more politically incorrect the better.

So, I'm going to write in Italian right now because I can.

Oggi sono andata all'universita e ho studiato il mio italiano. Dopo, il mio amico Terrence e io siamo andati all'U.C. Satellite, dove ho mangiato un burrito di Taco Bell.

Ho ricevuto una novantasette in l'esame del futuro. Va bene.

Mi piaciono i ragazzi. Io ho pensato che non erano intelligenti, ma ero cambiato. Ero stato non intelligenta, perche avevo rotto la mia cuore i molti tempi. Ma non ci ho paura.

Ho molta stanca, e vado al letto in un minuto. Ma ti voglio dire che. Buona notte.

So, boys aren't stupid.

I have school in the morning, and I'm actually looking forward to going, even though my Italian midterm is coming up to bite me in the ass.

Billy Idol!

Um, I'd like to apologize for being a drunken stereotype last night. Aha. It's just that we went to Slicks before Numbers, and my friend Wen was making me the bad-assest drink. It was melon with banana liquer, vodka and pineapple juice. Tasted like candy.

Now I remember why I never drank girly sweet drinks too much. When you've got whiskey or scotch, you know what you're getting. When you're drinking liquid candy, you sometimes forget.

But I had a really excellent time, even though I had to leave early. Sometimes you get to that point when it becomes absolutely necessary for you to leave. But that's the good thing about getting older, because at least you know when that point is and can attempt to take care of yourself.

I saw lots of my friends, though, and that was rad. Considering I was a little more outgoing than usual, if that's possible, hah.

So, at Numbers, there was this guy walking around in sunglasses. And he came up to this chick I was talking to and was sort of hitting on her. I couldn't tell if they knew each other or not.

Then he started asking me about Bright Eyes, 'cause I was wearing my t-shirt. He didn't know who they were. And he was all, "Would I like them?" Hah. Then the girl started giving him shit for wearing sunglasses at night, and he tried to say they were prescription. Then I asked him if I could see his eyes, mostly to fuck with him but also just to see if he was attractive at all, 'cause I was curious, and he shows them to me and goes, "Are we connecting?"

hahahaha. I don't know. That kinda made my night. I just thought that was hilarious.

I danced to "Let's Go to Bed." Fucking love that song. And to think some people wonder why I go to Numbers. Don't they know? ah.

I got home, and my sister was like, "Damn, you're early." She said she wasn't expecting me until my usual three, which is like going out drinking and then getting food and good conversation and going to bed. But yeah.

So they were drinking and then they left to go out right as I was putting myself to bed. Ha.

Well, that's all I got. But you know what, oddly enough, I don't even feel hungover. Tired certainly, but not like ass, so that's rad. Ah, lata.

Boys are stupid

... And I'm drunk. What else is new? I like Public Enemy and Wyclef Jean. And Dave is good people, regardless of what he says. Even though I dance like I'm white apparently.

Spilling the beans

If you don't want to know that much about me, don't read this.

So, I spent the night the other night. You ever had that thing where you like someone so much you can't wait to fall asleep so you can know what it's like to wake up next to them? I think I laid awake for a long while just anticipating that.

But when I finally fell asleep, I had a nightmare. I dreamed that when I woke up he was already up, and he had already showered and changed. And he was being all cold. He looked right at me and said sternly, "Get up. We're leaving in five minutes."

And he didn't kiss me good morning. And when he looked at me it was like he wasn't looking at me at all, just through me or past me. And I felt horrible.

But when I actually did wake up the awakeness felt more like a dream than the dream. He was so nice. He was wonderful. And I felt so at ease, but in the back of my head I was freaking out.

I know where the dream came from, because that has actually happened. The last person I slept with, which was quite awhile ago, was like that. He was totally sweet and romantic and attentive at night, and then he'd wake up like a different person. He didn't show me any affection at all. He seemed indifferent to whether I was even there. And he'd get ready for school, and he'd leave. And he's not the only person who ever gave me mixed signals, just the last.

I've become severely high maintenance, I realize. Not necessarily needy, but I do have certain expectations as to how I should be treated. And I think that's a good thing. So far, everything is going great. But it's like I keep waiting for disappointment so I can just shut it off. Cause I can do that now. No matter how much I like somebody, I come first. First time I feel unappreciated I'm out the door. It's just easier to be alone anyway. When you're used to it.

I feel kinda fucked up. That dream reminded me that I still have issues. I try not to, so hard. I try to live each day like it's new, and I try to treat people on an individual basis, and new possible loves on a level all their own.

I finally learned to separate them when I was out in Seattle, as best as I can. I worked really hard.

One of the things I learned, and for my own good, fair or not, is to cut ties when I need to. And I had started new and kept the appropriate space between myself and past loves so as not to get confused, for the most part.

It's almost like when you're a kid, and you really want some candy, and then you eat too much and get a bellyache. It's not as bad as that. But it's similar for some reason. Because I'm definitely getting more than I bargained for.

I really like him. And to complicate things, he's that friend who wrote to me that I hadn't seen in five years. So we're friends too, but I'm pretty sure if this doesn't work we won't be, while I try not to think about that.

Spring break! Whoot!

I did absolutely nothing today, and it ruled.

I got up and ate some Fruity Pebbles. Then I went back to sleep. Then I got up again and had Chinese food in the afternoon. Then I sat around and watched TV in my t-shirt and underwear. It was rad.

Then finally, I took a shower and got dressed, and learned a little bit of "Yesterday" by the Beatles on my guitar.

Tonight is St. Patty's. I'm not Irish but I have a hot date. Yay.

Dating!

So, it appears that I am dating. And quite smitten actually. It is good. Good in all the ways it should be good, I will say that.

I've had this really amazing week so far. I just have been having so much fun. Wednesday I went out for karaoke. That was rad. Then on Thursday I went to play open mic at Helios, but I signed up too late, so I didn't get to. Meh. Next week. Then I had a really good night and morning, and watched movies all day with my sister. Really liked Mean Girls by the way, much more than I thought I would.

And tonight I went to a couple bars with my friends and played some Megatouch, which kicked a lot of ass by the way. I rule at bowling on Megatouch, which is so rad considering my mad bowling skills ... NOT.

Now, I'm going to bed. But I just ate like a whole pizza with my friend Luis at Late Night Pie, and it was mighty fine. Yes, I can eat the hell out of some pizza.

Oh, and while we were eating Luis made me a ring out of a dollar bill, so now I got my bling bling for when I go out, since I lost the back to one of my rock star earrings yet again.

And Dave said he might have an eyepatch for my bear.

I love my friends. And I feel so dorky right now. Good night.

Help!

Call 911! There has been a disturbance. There has been an attack. The assailant is approximately sixty pounds, with a white stripe across her front. Sandy hair. I have the address. Just someone get an ambulance. Help!

She attacked my bear! My teddy bear I've had since I was little. She thinks she owns this house. She thinks it's her mountain. Crazy Rottweiler-Pitbull dog.

She acts all cute and innocent, but she's a killing machine. Took out an eye and ate the nose.

Poor, defiled bear. Now, it's going to look more like a savage pirate.

You might think I'm too old to give a rat's ass about my bear, but the bear doesn't take up space in the bed. It doesn't toss and turn. It never causes an argument. Aw, poor bear.

Fuckkkkkk

For lack of a better title, that about sums up the way I'm feeling today.

Where to begin? How can I describe this? Do you ever feel like absolutely rocking out? You know, just turning shit up and dancing by yourself in your room? I kinda feel that way right now, but do you know what I'm listening to? Mae. It doesn't make any sense, I know.

Do you ever get on your own nerves? I've been getting on my nerves all day. It is so easy for me to point out contradictions in others that I sometimes make a habit of doing it in order to take the heat off myself, I think.

I feel like a combination of two posts I recently wrote. One in June when I swore I was the biggest bullshitter in the entire world, and that I'd been shatting for six months. The other is the one I wrote from my parents' house when I was like "RARRRRRRRRRRRR!"

Yes, that is exactly how I feel. All that bullshit about Amedeo Modigliani. I wish I could live life like that. Minus the drugs and womanizing, most likely, but with a certain something that I like.

I'm always talking about adventures, but I'm a bullshitter.

I'm bored with everything. And I try to ask myself what's missing, what would make things more livable, but I just don't know.

Cara is pretty but mean.

Boys are stupid. Argue with me about this. I dare you.

My friend Dave told me the other night that you can tell how someone is in bed by how they dance. Now, this amused me. I can say it made the dance floor incredibly interesting. I can't however, dance with Dave anymore. Hee.

Sticks and Stones is better than that JamisonParker EP after all. Upon further listening, the NFG album just gets more and more fun, while Notes and Photographs leans one more toward suicidal tendencies. I can't take it. It is one of the most depressing break-up works ever. There's a line in one of the songs that says something about knowing the taste of love and how it's like backwash, blood and cheap beer, or something. And there's another one that's like thank you for being the girl who made me hate blonde hair, and how I can't wait to make you hate me a little more. Jesus.

Unselfishness is a natural high. Like hiking or paint thinner. Homer Simpson said that one. God, I love that show.

I moved back into my sister's place Saturday. It's rad. It's nice to have a bed again. I don't have all my stuff, but I have more than I did when I had to keep my things in my car.

I miss my movies. Remember when I was all crazy and shit before I left for Seattle? I sold like 40 of them. I'm not even sure which ones. Really good ones, probably. I didn't get rid of any of my absolute favorites, like American Beauty, High Fidelity or Lost in Translation, but I sold my copy of Better Off Dead to my friend Steph. That really hurts.

I want to play chess, and I don't have anybody to play with. And if I did have somebody to play with, they'd probably beat me because I stopped carrying my board everywhere months ago. And last time I did carry it anywhere was when I lived in Austin, and the boys got beer on it. Or I did. Some drunk person did, anyway.

I feel so weird. I spent all day studying for my media and society midterm, and I don't feel any smarter. Just inarticulate.

Then I got back, and Wes and Renee had just bought The Butterfly Effect.

I was like, "I don't feel like watching anything that's going to make me think."

Then they said it wasn't a thinking movie. Just intense. So I watched it, and now I feel like I'd be OK with not talking to anyone or reading or doing anything for the rest of the day but type this nonsense or stare at a white wall for awhile.

Tomorrow I'm going on a fake date. It's not real because it's just not. My friends Ben and Karen have been trying to hook me up with their friend Brandon for a couple months, it seems like. He's interesting, but whatever needs to be there is not. Yet somehow Ben, and the way he is and has been for the four, five years I have known him, got me to agree to come. I think it was one of those things when they won't let you hang up until you say yes. Fuckers. Why do people do that? Great. Now, any of you who read this are going to know that tactic works on me. I don't even know why I'm bitching. That wasn't my aim, but I feel like I am. New subject.

An old friend sent me a message yesterday. The subject read "I hear you're pretty but mean." I was like, wtf. Then all the sudden that line seemed familiar, but I could not remember who used to say that to me.

Then all the sudden I did. Freshman year at UH. Someone wrote it on a bench outside the dorms. "Cara is pretty but mean." I still don't know who wrote it, but then all the guys I hung around with started to say that to me. "It's OK, Cara. You're pretty but you're mean."

If I remember correctly, that used to piss me off. At the time I didn't think I was pretty or mean. It wasn't until after I got the sexy short haircut and dyed my hair blonde and started wearing dresses and going to poetry readings that anyone paid attention to me. That and the drugs, and how I almost instantly knew everyone on campus the morning after Transit.

Anyway, that made my day. Turns out one of my friends is back in town and wants to play catch-up. I usually hate that kind of thing, but it might be fun.

I learned about a new painter this week. Not a new one, a dead one, but one that's new to me. Amedeo Modigliani. I read an article about him in Smithsonian while I was at the dentist waiting for my sister Thursday. She got her wisdom teeth out. All four of them were impacted, poor baby.

Anyway, I want to learn more about Modigliani. Lots more. I like his paintings, but I am very interested in him. He loved life. And he lived like he loved. At 14 he was diagnosed with tuberculosis. He spent the rest of his life trying to live it like he meant it. He died at 35. His lover, eight months pregnant, jumped out of a window the next day. The article had a portrait of her he had done just months before he died. I don't remember her name.

Ever wonder why it takes something so momentous such as a life-threatening disease to scare people into living?

I had one once. So I sold half my shit and bought a one-way ticket. If I could buy everyone one, I think I would.

But that ticket was my life. That's what I bought. My golden ticket. And I believe that everyone has one. It's up to them to find it. The challenge is that you can get so wrapped up thinking about it that you can miss it completely. Only, I don't think you can miss it. Of course, you can make a mistake. But then you just have to wait patiently for it to come along again. And it will. It just might look a little different the next time.

Disclaimer: Upon completion of this post, I reread to find that I may have presented myself as an ex-heroin junkie. That is not the case. But it is quite hilarious if you read it in that light, I think. Oh, man.

I'm gonna be a supermodel.

OK, I have seen some funny things, but this takes the cake. MySpace has been entertaining as hell today.

First, I got a friend request from this guy.

Then, I got a message from some guy who's like dying to thumb-wrestle me, er something. I swear that's what he said. He said, "Winner gets the loser's pride and makes pot brownies with it." I was like, wtf. 'Cause we all know how competitive Cara gets with thumb-wrestling and how down she is with pot ... NOT. Anyway, I wrote that one back anyway. He got points for originality, although not many, and for all I know he probably says that to every chick he writes on there.

People are such tools. Even me. The Internet just makes it easier and easier to objectify people. And I've probably been watching too much TV. It just amazes me the things people do and say. Especially for money. Like with Fear Factor. That show is crazy. I used to really hate it, but it's growing on me. It's like that age old game kids and bored teenagers play. Or at least I have. You ever played a game where you just sit around and make up crazy questions and ask your friends what they'd do for a million dollars? My sister Renee used to always ask everyone about cow pie. "Would you eat a cow pie for a million dollars?" she'd say. Stuff like that. Oh, man, I so wouldn't. I don't give a shit. It's funny to watch people try though. And they take it so seriously. They're like, "Oh, man, if I had just chugged that maggot guts shake a little faster ... I'm such a loser."

But I'm getting off the subject. The funniest thing today, the one that takes the MySpace cake and I feel will be on the winning pedestal for awhile, is this special invitation for which I was so flattered to have received:

Hello my name is Mark. I'm an agent for a large talent firm and I have hand selected you from MySpace because I think you qualify for our $10,000 dollar audition promotion

You've probably seen it on TV, and now Girls Gone Wild is coming to your area and we're seeking attractive males & females of all shapes, sizes, heights and weights to appear in our videos.

If you think you have what it takes and you pass the audition, you will be paid $10,000 dollars for the job. Filming will be in all major cities across the country.

We are hiring literally thousands of people to appear on the dance floor so your chances of being selected are great. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You MUST have a webcam, digital cam or camera phone to audition. Auditions are a one-time offer and are completed online in the privacy of your own home. I guide you through the audition process step-by-step

Please contact me on one of these messenger services for an audition.

Thanks,
Mark

Hahahahaha. I shit you not.

Crap! What am I doing wasting time blogging. I've gotta go set up my Webcam!

My Friends Over You!

I've been listening to New Found Glory a lot, and I have just realized they are concept album writing kings. I don't know why I didn't realize this sooner. I mean, I thought Catalyst was brilliant, but both Catalyst and Sticks and Stones are thematically sound.

Conor Oberst once said in an interview that every album should be a concept album, unless you're just an artist setting out to write singles. Pretentious bastard. Hey, I can say these things about him because I actually never wanted to sleep with him, like every other emo girl.

OK, well, maybe a little. Like at the Desaparecidos show when he actually wasn't a huge icon yet, and I could have met him at Mary Janes had I not been so shy. And indifferent. To be honest, Jeff drooled over him more than I did. He was like, "Conor, blah, blah, blah ...." But damn, that man had some sexy eyes.

Meh. In other news, I've decided I've been acting like a tard in at least two situations I've recently written about here, and since I guess I'm going for a little more continuity with this blog lately, I will have you know this has to do mostly with the newspaper and Jeff.

They started a group for the paper on MySpace, and a couple people invited me to join it awhile ago, but I didn't. Since then, a few more people have written to me and added me to their friends. So, I was like, OK.

Plus, I might just have to try my hand at editing again. Soon. Because after doing it for so long, it never goes away. I still edit everything I read, especially my Media and Society textbook, which is in dire need of help. For real. So, before the editor-ness starts to drive me crazy, it would be nice to get paid to use it again.

Mmm ... playing God with other people's words. It just doesn't get much better than that.

Oh, and Jeff. Yeah, neurotic behavior, no matter how becoming, has never been a good look for me. It's like my least favorite. Plus, life's an adventure, right? And I like to think that if one is ever afraid to do something, there is no better reason to do it. Gets me in trouble sometimes, but when you're young what else have you got to do? Besides, if he's prepared to fuck shit up worse, then so am I.

I'm all about being healthy. Nothing like forming good ole healthy relations with those whose hearts you've broken along with your own.

It's only Tuesday, but I'm so ready to go dancing this weekend.