Mind is Fucked.

I've been neglecting this vomit bag. My excuse is that I have been busy with school work and what not, but I have decided that right now it will not do because this is the absolute most perfect time to return to Naff Kakistocracy because I am at this very moment making Nelaga and I am waiting for my meat to become tender. Hopefully the Flip dish I'm making will be good because I am in need of some good food that is made by me. I have found out that a kitchenette does not neccessarily make the production of delicious food easy. Something about the limited space transfers to limited good food, but just like everything else, in the words of Tim Gun from Project Runway, I have just got to "make it work."

That has the potential to become very interesting.

I wish my monthly state of death and destruction was predictable. Something like, the week before, after,but preferably during my period. It just hit me a few hours ago...I think, those moods not my period. I don't think I am thinking all that clearly right now because I have these thoughts that, at this very moment, matter to me that normally would not even cross my mind or if it did it would simply be in passing. I hate that overwhelming feeling of having no one to turn to, that feeling that I am not loved and hence do not matter hence..., when I know that there are people out there who do love and care for me. I hate even more the obligatory bloating, which then leads to the decrease in self esteemed hotness.

I do not look forward to those days when absolutely none of the clothes I have will do. Those days when your clothes, and not you, are what are supposed to make you look beautiful. I abhor those days when even the most insignificant person's negative attitude has such a down pouring effect on how I feel about everything. Not to mention those days where I am nowhere close to one hundred percent that I feel that I am an object that needs to be compared. And I can not stand those days when I think, in whatever regard, I am hopeless because in no way am I. I think I can understand where all these thoughts come from but I do not comprehend why they all have to be blown way out of proportion. That is complete bullshit.

Our biology can be a cruel cruel thing.

Malodorous manure eventually bring about awesome fruit trees, so in the natural order of things, I proceed with more positive things in bullet points.

• My steering of sail boats have much improved and I am great in jiving. Today I lapped a few boats at the harbor.
• In my sailing class, there's a guy who I think I might like to get to know better.
  
• Also in sailing, I accidentally hit a guy in the head with the boom while I was trying to pop the battens. Thats not neccesarily positive, it was funny though. And I did apologize. The positive thing about it is that after that incident my batten popping has now become improved and is finessed.
  
• I have found one gorgeous peice of eye candy in my math class who looks so all american perfect he might as well be Ken, but not in the gross way.
• The explosion of glass in my studio has been vaccuumed, finally.
• I have started regularly taking bubble baths at least 3 times a week.
• Having a place to myself is fabulous.
  

In other news:

• I need to stretch a pair of shoes. Fashion will not win this time if I don't.
• I can't get my free vibrator to work.
• With the full moon, the tide is high and the seals are having no trouble getting onto the wharf.
  
• I wanna take you to the GAY BAR GAY BAR gay bar.

I am still bitter and resent that bouncer.



Guess who's not going to the gay bar.

No More Shower for You...ok?

I guess it's possible to reach a point of cleanliness where you are no longer allowed to take anymore showers for the rest of the day. My mother and I shared a spa day at Olympic Spa in K-town earlier today and that was nice minus the unusual mood swings that I had today. PMS never seemed that obvious to me, but anyways...

I figured out the perfect way to utilize all the amenities (eucalyptus jade steam room, Himalayan salt and dry oil room, hot stone oxygen room, hot tub, cold tub, really hot tub) for me anyway. The word is not gradual, but extreme. First, shower. Then, sauna. After, cold tub. Then, really hot tub. Followed again by cold tub. And after that, salt and dry oil room and so forth. I am not exactly sure if that's a good plan to follow, however, when you start to get dizzy just go to the room with the heated jade floor and take a nap. Return back to neutral. Do it all over again if you have time. All while waiting for your number to be called so you can receive your well deserved treatment.

When my number was finally called, the masseuse looked at me something close to disapprovingly and told me to follow her. It was a great start. All that I was thinking was "Aw man, I have the bitchy one." Usually I get the happy older ladies who smile all the time and shower you with all signs of approval. Well, long story short, the bitchy lady finally decided to approve of me and gave me her first smile after giving me her test of cleanliness. At one point of the treatment, one is scrubbed down with some awesome smelling scrub/soap. After this one is sent to the showers to thoroughly rinse all this off. I do this in very fast time because as my mother advised, you want to maximize your massage time. And just like everything else that I do*, I am very good at this when I deem it necessary. I do this so well that the bitchy lady doesn't believe me. She does not believe that any human being has the capability of successfully becoming squeaky clean in a matter of more or less a minute, maybe even a few seconds. Mind you that this is only my body. This does not include my hair. That is a different story entirely.

I come back and this lady is looking at me in utter disbelief. "How can this girl (that I disapprove of) possibly be at the level of clean that I demand in this amount of time?" She gives me her skeptical face and then motions that I assume the position, the position to receive the test of cleanliness. Its not really too interesting a position. Its pretty much the position one assumes when being scanned by security with a metal detector at the airport.

The disapproving lady's test cover those places most emphasized to scrub when cleaning one's self. She begins by feeling behind my ears. Clean? Check. Then my underarms. Check. And finally my ass. This woman wants me to fail or something. She probably thought something like "she couldn't have possibly gotten everything there." At this point, I can't help but crack a smile and by default laugh a little bit. The test was done and I was clean. I had passed. I had become more than acceptable in her eyes and she affirmed this with a big smile and a laugh. YAY.

I have been approved. But do I want this approval? This became the big question after the message ended and she wrapped me up with a towel and robe and said:
You are very clean now so no more shower for you today...ok? No more shower.

...I guess...

More than one shower a day can be excessive at times but not even having the option to take that extra shower? PREPOSTEROUS.

Sometimes it is better to just go without the approval.

Aside from that though the whole spa experience was good. My skin was pretty damn close to soft as a baby's bottom. I was very clean. And that's really the main idea, right? Detox.

Actually, no. That reminds me there was this prissy Russian lady who looked angry (could be snooty) but wanted to talk to me and yet also didn't. There's a dilemma for you. Fighting the urge to talk to someone. Conversely, fighting the urge not to talk to someone...while your mad or disapproving of many things.

It was actually pretty interesting. It's something quasi-confrontational and after that initial contact, utter avoidance. Huh...

Ok. Well that is about if for now. I will end on a tangent.

I wish I had bought more luchador masks when I was in Mexico, however I am sure it can't be to big of a deal that I didn't. They have got to sell that stuff in downtown LA. I have to believe that. Otherwise...I will become very sad.




I ended up not taking another shower.

Comcast is a Big & Fat/ Tall & Skinny Bitch!!!

Annoying motherfuckers.

I would like to put forth my two cents about organic deodorants:

• Organic deodorants do not have anti-perspirants.
• I think the whole idea with using organic deodorants is that your arm pits will start to smell organic after about three hours from initial use.

I have resolved to return to using aluminum and other commodified toxic chemical containing deodorants just like the prodigal son to his forgiving father.

the end.

I Fell Madly in Love with a Mormon in the Mexican Riviera

It was something kind of animalistic at first sight.
Not all of them are cut out to be how they are portrayed in those commercials for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints.
You wouldn't believe...
He was, however, from Utah.
We first met in the Aquarius Dining Room aboard the Vision of the Seas.
An "exotic" fruit plate, some escargot, and slice of flourless chocolate cake later we were wondering around the cruise ship looking for somewhere we could find some seclusion--a place to ourselves. This continued for the remainder of the cruise.
Him with his piercing deep blue eyes and dirty blond hair. His body was lean and muscular from playing rugby and lacrosse. He held me close to him as we both gazed down at the water rushing past the ship from below.
We did everything together minus the drugs minus the alcohol, but before I go any further...

...most of this did not happen.

His family did favor it though as made evident in one of our conversations at the dining table.
Mormon Father: So, Michelle, do you have a boyfriend? Planning on getting married anytime soon?
Me: Are you serious? Really?
(silence)
Me: Well, I'm planning on getting married in my thirties after I'm settled for the most part.
Mormon Mother: Smart girl.
Me: In regards to your first question. No and that's all I'm going to say about that.
...
Mormon Father: Usually when we go on these things. Brenan and Wes pair up with nice girls for the rest of the cruise...

I had also scored major points with the Mormon family because:

1. They were able to recognize that I'm awesome.
   
2. One evening, I wore a luchador mask at the dining table showing that I am a good sport.
3. I have a very nice family, hence I myself will also create a nice family.
   

Reason two is the main source of point earnage.

Brenan, the boy my age did have piercing blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and a slender athletic body. He did play lacrosse and rugby. He spent the last two years of his life in Japan teaching English. And he showed traces of having an Asian fettish so those are easy points for me.

So, I guess the easy question is: why didn't I take him with me to a stateroom and hump his leg already?

Well, for one, I was rooming with my brother but mainly it was because we didn't click. Aside from the interesting things I had already mentioned he wasn't really all that interesting. All details put aside: I just wasn't that attracted to him. He was really nice though.

And so with the cruise coming to an close, Brenan and I ended our relationship with a simple but firm handshake.

And that, as they say, is that...for now anyways.

Whole Foods is the SHiT son.

Current iTunes shuffle winning track: The World is Not Enough by Garbage (Unkle mix)
Man is it good.
__

I love specialty food stores. They carry some of the most awesome products ever to have been known to humanity. For example, butterscotch popcorn clusters with macadamias, Greek yogurt, instant Indian food, oatmeal raisin chunk ice cream and orangina. These stores are like a big "fuck you" to corporate America's scheme to commodify all the goods and services that have, are, and will be distributed to it's colony of ants. At the same time, specialty food stores are also a safe haven for trend following obnoxious kambucha-loving earth people, the modified to becoming nature loving 2.0 freaks, who look down upon cheeto and wheat thin connoisseurs. It is that fact, and that fact alone that stores like Trader Joes, Wild Oats (r.i.p), and New Leaf recieve a nine out of ten stars in my book of types of stores I have been to throughout my lifetime.

Obviously, patchouli/kambucha followers and I do not mix. However, specialty food stores do redeem themselves at times when I am able to find F-in amazing products while unknowingly and yet successfully evading tree people who may or may not be incognito. Today I was especially pleased with my shopping experience at a specialty food store-Whole Foods. While I did not spot any Peanut Butter Panda Puffs, the cereal at Trader Joes which always manages to put a smile on my face (what did I expect?), I did manage to find brownie samples, persimmon-rose-geranium deodorant, and saffron infused rose water ice cream with pistachios. I purchased the later two. The deodorant has a lite and pleasant scent that is paraben free. So it will be impossible for aluminum to enter my armpits. High five!!! The ice cream is actually pretty good too. It's pretty similar to the cardamom pistachio ice cream at Marianne's in Santa Cruz except that it's liter. Actually, I take it back. The ice cream is pretty F-in awesome. Give me another High Five!!!

I deserve it.

It just sucks how much the prices of food has risen. Maybe it's a slight blessing in disguise sent to turn the obese, and just plain overweight, people of America back to how they used to look pre-McDonald era. Or maybe it's a plot against the American people to, on average, become even bigger and require two seats on the bus, subway, whatever instead of one by forcing them to buy even more instant ramen and ultimately resorting to wonderbread and velveeta.

Well, regardless of the price increase. Farmer's market food is still quite good. You can't really beat having strawberry nutella crepes with papusas, tamales, or chilaquiles with garlic fries and freshly squeezed lemonade with berries in it. And the blueberry cornbread is to die for. All of this is eaten in steady pace...of course. Duh?

So I'm pretty done with writing this blog, but I just have one more thought that might be worth sharing. Music and memory tags. Sometimes they're good and sometimes they hit sore spots. It's pretty impossible to still be listening to Garbage on shuffle at this point. Right now it's all about Karsh Kale. A mix of "Deepest Blue" which was on a cd that I often played in my bathroom while taking a shower in my old new apartment. I'm listening to it right now and it reminds me of when I used to take a shower and get ready to see someone who was pretty special to me at the time. It also reminds me of how ridiculously awesome I smelled after taking that shower and how great I felt my hair looked at the time. Memories. I think I'll keep those last two.

Stay tuned.

I <3 You...Nice Person!!!

Reasons why I do not like children*:

1. Children are manipulative.
2. Children are brats whose needs are never met.
3. Children create mess which they expect you to clean up after them.
4. Children make you watch Nickelodeon and Disney Channel all day.
5. Children are attention whores that make you regress being 5 years old again.
   
6. Children are hardwired to suck the living day lights out of you.

After 4 days of replacing my rooms scent with her odor, my obnoxious 11 years old cousin who throws huge tantrums and whose adopted and doesn't know it yet finally left my house to return to her parents who don't realize how tormented they are by her or how much they are raising her to torment other people. I soon discover, while trying to reclaim my room, that my desk, office supplies, sewing materials, and makeup are all in disarray. The furniture has also been moved.

I am not OCD.

In one of the few places in my room left in order, I found two index cards with notes on them. They read something like, "I had the most fun ever this week...You feel like a mother to me." I read them and can't even muster an "awe, how nice" because I know none of this is true at all. The whole week was filled with attitude, stomping, and making faces and insults at people. The icing on the cake had got to be on the second card with the post script with words and phrases such as "I <3 you", "nice person", and "loved." Well, all I have to say about it is "Bullshit Mama".

So, that's a pretty sore topic for me. Luckily, I have a panacea for moments these. I recently discovered this on YouTube. It's a response to Chris Crocker's video on the highly controversial topic on Pubic Hair and whether or not it has a place on the human body. The guy featured in this video agrees with the infamous Chris Crocker and brings up some pretty good arguements I think.
Pubes: should they stay or go? You decide.

I'll have more to share later.

*insert "most"