THIS JUST IN:
Bread makes you fat.

Also, I told him today. Like, actually looked him in the eye and spoke the entire sentence. It was great!

Kansas in August

Precursory note: I must warn you, readers, that this post is going to surpass all prior established sappiness levels. Like, seriously, I'm about to get all kinds of mushy and emotionally sensitive up in here. Consider yourself warned.


Now, I am almost certainly going to regret everything that I am about to say. Good things, as we all know, tend to conclude rather abruptly. Whether it be tomorrow or a decade from now, I know that this good thing that I have is going to end. However, I have always been a very earnest, in-the-moment blogger, and I have to document how I feel at this moment because maybe if I write it all down, it'll seem more legitimate. Or something. I don't know. I can't exactly quantify anything right now, but I have a feeling that my confused sensation may be remedied by my spewing my soul all over this digital page.

As I mentioned in my last post, Technicolor Boy dropped a big, fat L-word on me. (Obligatory Scott Pilgrim quote needed here: "Step up your game, Scott. Break out the L-word." "Lesbian?" "The other L-word." " Lesbians?" pahaha. Oh, Michael Cera.) Alas, my beautiful Technicolor Boy dropped the real L-word.

His hand was on my hip, I had just kissed him good morning, and as I looked up into his sky-on-a-sunny day eyes, he said it.

"I love you."

To which I deftly replied, "Oh, shhh."

Now, pause, because at that exact moment, several thoughts flew through my brain at once:
-Good God, I am smooth.
-Did he really just say that? Did I hear that right?
-I love you, too.

Of course, I didn't vocalize any of these. I just kissed his forehead and hoped he wouldn't mention it again. Here is the big fat fucking problem: he kept saying it. Not immediately, but later on, he said it again. And again.

Here is the bigger fat fucking problem: I can't say it back. I've replied to him with variations, but I cannot bring my lips to move in such a way as to tell him straight out, "I love you, too." which sucks, because I most definitely do.

Once the initial shock subsided, I realized that I am really, really happy about things.  Like, I am elated. I've had the same song from South Pacific going through my head all day. It's this one.

Now, I am going to say this with as much colloquial eloquence as I can muster:
Gurrrl, I am fucked.

Historically, I have always rallied against this myth that is love. I have always claimed that sex was the be-all end-all, that love is a biological illusion created by humanity to justify reproduction. I've always said that I would never be anywhere near that level of stupid. I have always loudly and rudely denounced the idea and existence of love and romance.

I stand corrected.

I don't know what this boy has done to me, but I don't care! I don't care if I'm vulnerable in front of him. I don't care if he's older than me. I don't care how many girls want to get with him, because he is mine. I don't care how hypocritical and cheesy and ridiculous I have become. This shit is real. I love him.

If he tells me he loves me, I am going to say it. I have to say it. He deserves it.

My main issue with all of this was first mere shock, then sort of my own existential implosion regarding whether or not I am allowed to be happy, and after all of this, after I have processed and confirmed and all that shit, I have concluded that I am allowed to be loved.

I am so happy with him, even if it's just for now. I am going to be happy and sappy and girly because I can, God damn it!

OH SWEET, HOLY GOD! I AM TURNING INTO A ROMCOM.


Julia

Developments

Well, the urge to fuck things up has substantially subsided. The outline on my ankle doesn't hurt so badly anymore. My phone has become the center of my world. The cat and I are now on better terms because I discovered that the way to her little feline heart is beef jerky. The Sopranos never ceases to amaze me.  Oh, and Technicolor Boy dropped the L-word this morning. Oh dear God.

Meow?

This post comes to you from the heathen bedspread of a certain Technicolor Boy. More accurately, it comes from my glorious cellular device, which I am typing on as I lay in the aforementioned heathen bed linens, awaiting the return of their owner from his job at a tastey speedy-but-not-fast food establishment.

The company of his cat, whom I still think is a crux in our relationship despite being absolutely adorable, is simply not satisfactory to me at this time. 

I have a series of semi-related thoughts, but I don't have the energy to transition smoothly between them, so I am just going to do the list-y thing and hope that the progressions make sense.

--Last night, Technicolor Boy brought me to a party. I thought of it as a good sign (that he feels confident bringing me into his social life) and a bit of a test (to see how I operated in his social circles). As for the sign part, it's debatable, but if that party was a test, I definitely passed.
--I am a social beasty! I worked that party like it was my job. Let it be known that I made Technicolor Boy look very good to his peers with my behavior and conversational networking.
--Further evidence of my fabulousness can be drawn from the amount of flirting that I received from basically every male at the party; it thoroughly surpassed my predictions. Admittedly, I was one of very few attractive females at the party, not to mention I had the whole 'fresh meat' thing going for me, but I really didn't have to work hard to get attention.
--At least, I hope that I wasn't working that hard for it. There was this one girl at the party who was hotter than I in every respect (I give credit where credit is due) but the way she whored for attention was a little sad. At one point, she took off her shirt. I dearly hope that that wasn't the impression that I gave to everyone.
--I am most concerned about the impression that I left upon a certain individual. This is problematic.
--This certain individual is one of Technicolor Boy's super tight buddies, and we shall refer to him henceforth as Puppy-eyed Boy. I met Peb at Global, but was too wrapped up in Technicolor Boy to really pay attention to him. However, after spending some time actually talking to him, it is quite clear that I am being coveted.
--He is fucking cute. I don't just mean looks, but he has certain personality traits that Technicolor Boy vehemently lacks.
--If I decide that I want him, I could have him with very little effort on my part.
--Now I'm questioning all my shit with Technicolor Boy. Again. Fuck fuckity fuck, why do I allow myself to do this?
--I feel like I worked really hard to get to this point with him, but now that I'm here, I'm wondering if I worked for the wrong person. It's not like I'm going to do anything with anyone, especially not right now, and especially not Peb, because I really care about Technicolor Boy. But, the thought is now there and there is no way I can keep it from occasionally popping to the forefront of my brain.
--I'm going to allow this weird, sudden inkling for Peb to marinate, as it would only be destructive right now. However, knowing that someone close to Technicolor Boy has a thing for me could prove useful if [when] things go downhill between he and I. This fact could be quite valuable if there is any cheating on Technicolor Boy's part.
--I don't want to hurt Technicolor Boy, but if he hurts me, I can't leave myself without a counter attack. I always have the last word. Always.
--Sweet God, I am such a vengeful bitch.
--Maybe I'm just freaking out due to the hangover and the fact that I have woken up for the third day in a row in these heathen bedsheets. Who spends that much time with a person?

I think the conclusion that we can draw from all of this is that I think ahead far too much. Also, that I am quite the little sex panther and my very presence heightens the attractiveness level of any social gathering. Kidding.

But seriously. I know the 'run away' instincts have been bad lately, but why in the fuck would they point me to go running to someone else? Wouldn't my going from one guy to another (and not in a one-night-stand sort of way) simply exacerbate the problem?

Gah. Of course as soon as things would start working, I'd have to find a reason to fuck them up. I'm going to exercise self-control and not destroy any relationships (right now) but, damn, I reeeeeally want to stir the pot.

Other thoughts for this morning include:
--I think this cat hates me.
--Part of the reason why I think I'm starting to want to fuck shit up is because I've been spending too much time at Technicolor Boy's house. Before I start to take him for granted, I think I need a little absence to make my heart grow fonder.
--I have a sore spot on the inside of my right ankle because I got drunk a few nights ago and tried to give myself another tattoo. Unfortunately, tattooing right over a bone hurts like a motherfucker, so I only got a few passes through before I called "fuck it."
--The shower in this house legitimately terrifies me and I refuse to use it. Ucky boy shower, gross!

That's about it. I can hear Technicolor Boy unlocking the front door, so that's going to have to do for this cellular post.

 Advice or something? Please?



Julia

Dear Followers,

For the most part, I tend to read a lot of your blogs. I would comment, except that Blogger seems to have a personal vendetta against me, and I appear to not be able to comment on about half of the blogs that I follow.

Just thought I'd let you kiddos know that I'm paying attention, even if I can't tell you personally due to Blogger being a cuntbucket.

Also, thank you, as always, for reading and commenting here :)

Sincerely yours,


Julia

The Rave and the Toothbrush

Sweet fuckity Jesus, what a weekend.

I left my house at midday on Saturday and did not return until about an hour ago, and today is Monday. So much happened that I have to divide this post into two parts.

PART ONE -  THE RAVE

I got myself all primped and prettied up in my pink and black slutwear, threw on my kandi and my gogo boots, and drove to Red Rocks on my lonesome for day two of Global. Global is a three day rave and is the biggest rave in Colorado. Like other multiple-day raves, you can either get a full pass to all of the days, or do what I did and get a ticket only for the day or two that has artists that you care about. Saturday had the combined proponents of having the best line up and the most people I knew planning to go.

The big artists for Saturday were Nadia Ali, Morgan Paige, Wolfgang Gartner, and Above & Beyond; I witnessed all of them. My favorite was Wolfgang Gartner. I have never heard a set so good in my life. I danced and jammed for practically the entire hour and a half that he played. Above & Beyond were good, but sort of disappointing compared to Gartner because of how chill their set was. They did do this thing where they would type things to the audience that would be displayed on the big screen above the stage, so that was cool.

Going to Global by myself was a gamble. In years past, I had always gone with a big group. This year, I knew of people who were going, but at a theater like Red Rocks, which is huge, it was unlikely that I would actually meet up or be able to hang out with anyone. But, I think that the rave gods were smiling down upon me because right after I arrived, I ran into Technicolor Boy and the group of people that he came with. I knew most of his friends anyway, so their group just sort of absorbed me for the night.

Ok, best moment of the night:
Above & Beyond had just started their set. From where we were in the audience, you could see all of the thousands of people dancing and jamming, as well as the incredible stage. Looking around, I felt like part of something big, amazing, and communal. It was pretty PLURtastic. I was scanning the crowd and marveling at humanity, and suddenly Technicolor Boy walked right in front of me. There, under the lights, surrounded by thousands of people and the incredible scenery that is Red Rocks, I kissed him.

After Above & Beyond finished and the rave was done for the night, Technicolor Boy and a few of his friends decided to go with me to an after party. The party was interesting, not a blast, but not un-fun. I made friends, played with lights, and some guy who had an Avatar arrow painted on his head did a quick show with fire poi (Google 'fire poi' and be amazed). The main thing was that everyone was rolling absolute face, which I didn't mind, but it was a little awkward because I was completely sober.

Yes, I will say that again for emphasis: I spent Global sober. While everyone else was dropping acid and parachuting crushed-up rolls, I smoked cigarettes. While people were smoking blunts and taking lines of coke, I smoked yet more cigarettes. I even turned down the vodka shots that people kept offering to me at the after party. I was completely and totally sober, and I still had fucktons of fun.

After the after party, because we didn't feel like going home quite yet, we all met up with some other friends who had gotten a hotel room for the night and watched Disney movies. Ravers are so silly.

At almost six in the morning, we embarked on the long drive home. Well, to Technicolor Boy's house, which is in Fort Collins, which is a little farther north than home for me. I basically drove from one end of I-25 to the other, which was only okay with me because the view of the sunrise wasn't half bad. To put this epic drive into perspective, you should know that Red Rocks is in Morrison, which is southwest of Denver. From Morrison to the southernmost part of Denver, where the after party was, was about ten miles. From south Denver to north Denver, where the hotel was, was about another five miles. The final stretch, from Denver to Fort Collins was about 70 miles.

Now you all know why I stayed sober despite having free drugs thrust in face all night-- there is no way I would have been able to make that drive if I had been under the influence of anything, let alone if that thing had been ecstasy. As it was, we had to stop halfway, in Longmont, for gas at a station right off of the interstate.

Side note: it has become a running joke that my car always runs out of gas on rave nights. I am always forced to pump gas in my slutwear, because I never bring extra clothing and all of my friends are either lazy or too scared to exit the car in their own slutwear. Thank God that I have no shame.

Finally, after driving for fucking ever, we all got to the house and pretty much collapsed from exhaustion, basking in the glory of the night.


PART TWO - THE TOOTHBRUSH

After sleeping for a few hours, all of Technicolor Boy's friends either went home, to work, or back to Red Rocks, leaving he and I basically alone.

Cue gratuitous cuddling and canoodling.

It was during this afternoon canoodling that he and I had one of the most serious and important conversations we have ever had. We DTRed. (fucking finally!)

The deal is this: We are monogamous. We're not dating, there will be no official titles, but until one or the other of us decides that the whole shebang is getting to be a chore, we are monogamous.

Score one for the Jew. This is, to a tee, exactly what I wanted. I find labels to be superfluous and titles to be unnecessary, but I got the commitment that I wanted. And now that we are both on the same page about things, I feel as though the stigmatic barrier between us has been burst through.

I spent Sunday night at his house, too. We watched cartoons and superhero movies and got sushi. For the entirety of the time, I was wearing a pair of his shorts and his t shirt because, as stated previously, I had brought nothing else to wear after Global. Despite all of his roommates being at Global and seeing me in my sluttacular, whoretablulous glory, there is a time and a place for wearing a polk-a-dot push up bra and fishnets.

Another side note: apparently, the bra I had chosen to be the centerpiece of my outfit had done its job too well. All of Technicolor Boy's friends ended up telling him (and sometimes, me) at random intervals throughout the night and the following morning about how great they thought my boobs were. Flattering, but awkward. Hate to break it to you, boys, but half of it was the ridiculous padding in the bra. For some reason, all of the cute bras at Target have uber push up padding. Go figure.

Anyfuckingway.

Upon waking up, I could barely swallow due to the incredible dryness in my mouth that had occured from sleeping in Technicolor Boy's poorly ventilated house. I was rocking some major morning breath that would not dissipate despite alternately swishing with water and mouth wash (delicious details, you're welcome) so I shyly asked if there was an extra toothbrush that I could borrow.

Technicolor Boy located a brand new toothbrush and a little cap-like protector for it and handed it to me. After vanquishing my mouth, I didn't know what to do with the toothbrush; it seemed a waste to throw it away after one use. He suggested that I leave it at his house. He suggested this.

His suggestion that I leave a toothbrush at his house for future use not only implies that he expects me to stay at his house regularly in the future, but solidifies my confidence in the relationship that we have, whatever the fuck it is.

As I said before, titles are unnecessary, however, I have reached a level with him that I don't think I've ever reached with anyone else. I mean, I got close with Wsb, but I have actually reached it with Technicolor Boy. Beyond Little Kiss Territory, in the land of the unknown for me, I have discovered the next, slightly more intense level of intimacy: Toothbrush Status.

I cannot say I am unhappy to have gotten to this point with Technicolor Boy, but I am definitely scared shitless. Now that we have DTRed (which is ironic because it's still essentially a non-relationship) and that stigmatic barrier has been broken down, I feel closer to him than I ever expected to be. I am also infinitely more vulnerable. The "run, bitch, run!" feelings are beginning to surface again because I know that all good things inevitably end. I am so happy, but so confused. It was hard enough being in Little Kiss Territory, and now I get to deal with being beyond it.

It's like... It's like I could actually fall for him. It's like I'm already slipping.

Houston, we have a problem.



Julia

Man with a Gun

There is no feeling more terrifying than waking up to the news that a shooting occurred at the movie theater where your friends went to go see 'The Dark Knight Rises'.

The shooting was simple and premeditated. Forget what you've heard on the news and allow me to pass on the information gleaned from my friends' first hand accounts and the people on the Aurora police force that I know personally:

At the midnight premiere of the movie at the Century Theater, a man wearing a gas mask and bullet proof vest entered the theater from a side door. People originally thought that he was part of theater's staff, meant to enhance the movie. He set off a canister of tear gas, then opened fire upon the people in the theater. He shot at random with no particular targets, aiming to kill, which he did, as the final tally of people left dead was twelve (ten at the theater and two at the hospital) Another 59 people were wounded, including a three month old baby who sustained lung injuries from the tear gas. The suspected shooter was caught in the parking lot and is now in custody.

Two of my friends were in the theater at the time. Luckily neither was harmed, but I can't imagine how traumatized they are due to what they witnessed. The movie will now forever be associated with death and calamity, which is quite the tarnish on Batman's reputation. Not that anyone is actually thinking about a fictional character right now, when there are real-life villains wreaking havoc on innocent people.

What's interesting is how social networks are blowing up about it. People's reactions are varied, with some choosing anger and vengeance, some choosing sadness, some looking to God, and others looking to the government. What's annoying is the amount of people turning this into a gun control/concealed carry issue. Worse still are the people creating 'tribute' photos just so that they can gain 'likes' and 'shares'. Exploitation of a tragedy is quite the American thing to do...

All of this makes me wonder what it would have been like thirteen years ago, if we had Facebook and Twitter during the aftermath of the Columbine Massacre.

Speaking of Columbine, it's hard not to draw a comparison between the two shootings (after all, Littleton, where Columbine High School is, is only a few miles from Aurora) Both acts were premeditated, both involved some kind of explosive (the bombs at Columbine malfunctioned and never detonated), the shooters in both tragedies fired at random and aimed to kill for the sake of killing, and both used rifles as their main weapon, as opposed to anything else. The Virginia Tech shootings were also very similar.

To be quite frank, I think Colorado's had enough. It's bad enough that half the state was on fire not even a month ago, but now, we have some crazy fuck with a gun take out his emotional issues on innocent Batman fans? Awesome. Just awesome. This is obviously exactly what our damaged state needed to complete our summer.

It sickens me to think that anyone could be so cruel. I think we're all one act of depravity away from losing hope altogether.

The one good thing that has come of this is that as a state, we are all coming together into a sort of kehillah kadosha, or Holy Community. We are all shocked and saddened and confused. At Global, which starts tonight, there will be, for the first time ever, a moment of silence in recognition of the tragedy.

You know shit's bad when a rave goes silent.

Anyway, I'm just glad that my friends are okay, and obviously Aurora is at the front of my thoughts today. I've prayed a bit, said a kaddish for those who fell and a mishaberach for those who were hurt, but I don't think God's listening. No benevolent God would allow this to happen...

I'm just going to spend today making kandi for tomorrow night and transforming my hair into something magnificent. I think the best thing that anyone can do at this point is just be and allow the universe to try to heal itself.




Julia

Definitions

Precursory note: footnotes are your friend.

Today has been a day fully afflicted with a large dose of snark1. From beginning to end, I have been in basically a non-stop bitchtastic mood; woe be to those who have annoyed2 me in any way. I have not been a shining beacon of progress when it comes to controlling my own aggression as I have been taking it out on everyone that I have come in contact with. I feel completely unapologetic about this.

You see, today began with the unfamiliar sound of my new cell phone3  alerting me to a four text long message from a boy whom I despise. I believe that I have mentioned him before--not too long ago, I insulted him very publicly on the internet and he threatened to kill himself--but seeing as he is not an important person in my life, I don’t think I’ve created an acronym for him, which is fine, because he is not worth it.

The message was an accusation of my dear buddy Licia and I for creating a hate website dedicated to him.

This accusation was about nine kinds4 of absurd, and here is why:

-Both Licia and I lack the tech savvy to create a web page that is anything but a Wordpress or something.

-If we did create and maintain a website of our own volition, it wouldn’t be dedicated to someone so undeserving of our time or effort.

-She and I laugh about how much we hate this guy all of the time; we don’t need a website to do that. We generally do not include anyone but each other in these conversations.

-If Licia and I truly wanted to humiliate, rant about, and/or make a public mockery of this guy, than we would do so in a way that would be much more damaging than a simple website. She and I make a dangerously devious team.

In short, this guy should not flatter himself. The amount of stupidity behind his accusation was phenomenally high. End result: very irritated Julia, very early in the morning.

The snark levels5 only rose as the day went on. I have been very road rage-y, very loud, and very vicious in my remarks to people. The only person who was spared my bitchtastic wrath was Technicolor Boy... not that he should have been.

I have noticed that whenever I am around him, the normal, loud, opinionated part of brain forcibly quiets itself so as not to frighten or anger him, nor incriminate or embarrass me. Even if he says something that I disagree with, I suddenly begin to suffer from a severe case of short term tongue paralysis, and say nothing.

This is becoming a problem.

There are a great deal of things that I wanted to say to Technicolor Boy today, but my tongue held itself and rendered me silently passive. I am disgusted at myself. Being silently passive is one of the most detestable6 things that a person can ever be.

I wanted to tell him that I was angry that he came home an hour later than when he told me to be at his house, and that it was terribly boring and awkward for me to have to wait. I wanted to tell him that he was being unnecessarily pissy and that it was neither excusable nor appreciated. I wanted to tell him that he was being selfish by not even asking about my day after I listened to him vent about his. I wanted to tell him that his fucking cat is not just an adorable cat, but the last tangible vestige of his failed relationship, and that he was not giving love and affection to a feline, but that he was giving love and affection to the memory of his ex-girlfriend so that he wouldn’t have to risk the possibility of giving his love and affection to anyone else7 and not getting a return on it.

I wanted to say all of these things, but I refrained.

Ultimately, I am reaching the inevitable fork in the road with him. It has been about four months of shenanigans. I know that I only have about a year left in the state before I leave for college, and I need to know if I should spend it with him, or if I should look elsewhere for stability. The time has come to DTR8. I need to know if he is a lost cause or not.

I am simply incredibly annoyed at the state of things right now. I am not a fan of being accused of something not only juvenile but ridiculous. I hate idiotic drivers, people who are slow on the uptake during conversation, and people who cannot handle when someone else is mean to them. Worst of all, I am beginning to question if the time and effort I have put into being around Technicolor Boy have gone to waste.

The only good thing that happened today was that some Gregorian9 guy in a suit gave me a trendy-looking miniature New Testament, which is now sitting in my car’s glove box. I don’t know why this is a good thing, I’m not a fan of the New Testament, but having read it before, I suppose that I now have some emergency reading material. I think what really made this the highlight of my day was the fact that someone was actually giving something to me and expected nothing in return.

The fact that the best part of my day was receiving a bible from a missionary who probably doesn’t even remember my face says a lot about my day10.

Tomorrow, please be better.


Julia

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes
1. A sharpness or slight anger
2. Spoken, looked at, or gotten in the way of
3. Possibly the most glorious electronic device ever to grace me with its presence. RIP to its predecessor
4. More than nine kinds
5. Levels of snark
6. And pathetic, not to mention weak
7. As in, me
8. A pop culture acronym whose letters stand for "define the relationship"
9. Some kind of Christian
10. Namely, that it was complete and utter shit

WE INTERRUPT YOUR NORMALLY SCHEDULED BLOGCASTING TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT MESSAGE:

I HAVE JUST PURCHASED A TICKET TO THE LARGEST RAVE IN THE STATE, AND THE THIRD LARGEST IN THE COUNTRY. IT'S ON SATURDAY.

HOLYFUCKINGCHRISTIAMSOEXCITED.

The Land of the Living

Precursory note: I think that I am going to discontinue my trend of capitalizing every word in my post titles. At first, I thought it promoted a sense of uniqueness, impact, and all that shit, but it honestly just feels stupid to continue to do so. Seeing as I am an absolute grammar nazi (well, I try to be) in all other aspects of my life on- and off-line, I believe that it is time for me to put that particular self-imposed trend to rest. May you rest in peace, adolescent capitalization.

Precursory note II: I guarantee that this post is going to be a long one, so maybe I'll throw in some pictures or something.


Precursory note III: I think I like the idea of occasionally starting posts off with precursory notes. Not all posts, but the ones that necessitate a wee statement or aside before the actual body of the post begins... Instead of letting these little bits of information hang in the balance, I think I am going to give them a label and a sense of purpose. Maybe I just like the word "precursory," I couldn't tell you. 

ANYFUCKINGWAY.

I am home. Sweet baby Jesus, I am home.

I never knew how beautiful Colorado was until I was taken away from it against my will. This trip has also brought me a new-found appreciation for my tiny house, because although it is tiny and messy, it feels far cleaner and more breathable than the houses of my east coast relatives. Also, quieter. I have so much appreciation for all of these little things that I used to hate about where I live.


Moving right along, I shall now regale you all with a short (but not really) list of the adventures that I had in humid-as-fuck Rochester, New York. But first, I must bitch momentarily:

My parents arrange for my sister and I to go to New York, but do they send us to see our relatives in Manhattan? No. They send us to see the relatives in the boring upper state. Their intentions and generosity was much appreciated, but their execution, frankly, was not. I am aware that I sound indisputably spoiled and insensitive, but it had to be said, so feel free to suck a big one if you find my reaction to be offensively selfish.

Moving right along to my list of adventures. Despite not wanting to go in the first place and not enjoying myself about 30% of the time (which was better than I had projected), I did my best to capitalize upon the situation and make it as positive as possible. Here are the fun things that happened during the time that I didn't desperately want to hijack an airplane a fly home:

-Gallavanted around Canada. More specifically, the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. I went of the Maid of the Mist boat thing under the falls, which required all of us to wear ridiculous blue parkas. Yes, there are numerous embarrassing photos on Facebook.

-Two-day extravaganza at Darien Lakes, which is a theme park with a campground attached. The camping was crowded and fake-feeling, and I am not a fan of roller coasters due to my pilot training, but the water park was fun and the random shenanigans were exciting.

-Sean Connery movie marathon with gratuitous Oreo consumption. Delicious, and the Oreos were good too.

-Got drunk with deaf people. (Note: half of my upstate family is deaf, so I grew up knowing sign language) We all went go-karting, arcade gaming, and then got a 30 rack and played drinking games in my cousin's apartment. After we were all considerably tipsy, we went to a diner and got garbage plates. (Garbage plates are a drunk person's gift from God; take home fries, cheeseburgers, macaroni salad, and basically any other high-calorie diner food you can think of, throw it all on a plate, and cover it in hot sauce. Thank Drunk Jesus for garbage plates)

-Promenaded along the Erie Canal, scared pigeons, laughed at funny boat names, and got ice cream from some adorable little shop.

-My uncle, who is a pathologist, took me into the hospital with him for a teaching session that he had with some medical students. We all went into the morgue, and proceeded to poke, prod, discuss, and diagnose tubs of organs. Real, human organs. I held an actual kidney, guys, it was awesome. 

-Big family dinner at this fantastic Chinese restaurant. And for those of you laughing at the stereotypical coincidence that my big, loud, Jewish family was eating at a Chinese place, laugh away, because that was kind of the point. But hey, no one does Chinese food like New Yorkers.

And now for the not so fun adventures:

-I got second degree burns on our final day at Darien Lakes. I'm talking, giant, seeping blisters, raw and exposed dermis, and all manner of fun peeling. Once, I tried putting aloe on it, and, well, I have a very high tolerance for pain, but Holy God in Heaven, that is a level of pain I never wish to experience ever again. My shoulders and upper back still have not recovered.

-I had to spend a night with my grandmother, who happens to be my only living grandparent, at her old person home. She has her own apartment, but all meals are taken at this massive dining room that masquerades as a restaurant. The food was edible, but unfortunately old-person-digestion-friendly, if you catch my drift. My grandmother is 92, and has lost her will to live. She is infuriatingly slow, sometimes forgets to swallow her food, and is constantly depressed. I love her, but I will not mind if that is the last time that I ever have to see her. I really, really hate old, decrepit people (I mean like, no longer young-at-heart, completely infirm people) and being not only surrounded by them, but in their constant company was frustrating, disgusting, and thoroughly un-enjoyable.

-I was obligated to eat one dinner with a particular aunt whom I cannot stand at her creepy house. She chews ridiculously loudly and is a very over-baring person. Not fun to have to spend a meal with.

And that pretty much sums up the trip.

Admittedly, I did get a lot closer to my cousins, and I did glean the aforementioned appreciation for many things at home. I still didn't want to go in the first place.

Anyway, now that I am back in the Land of the Living, my life can finally return to normal. I have no other trips or excursions planned for the rest of the summer, so here's hoping that my last month of it (Shit, where did my life go?!) is low-key, rave-, and sex-filled. I can adventure the fuck out of the world next summer, but right now, all I want is my old routine back. 

In order to end this post on an optimistic note, I'll leave you all with a cute-mushy-romantic moment that I had today, because the second I got home from the airport, I grabbed my keys and drove immediately to go see Technicolor Boy.

Basically, I showed up at his house wearing practically no make up in a t-shirt and pajama shorts. He and I spent the afternoon watching Venture Bros on his couch. I was complaining about how gross I looked and felt because of the burns covering my upper torso and was squirming around because he kept trying to pull at my collar and sleeves so that he could see my shoulders. I was serious about looking gross, but he said "You're beautiful. You're very, very pretty... Even with you skin falling off."

He's never called me beautiful before... not really anyone has.
He thinks I'm beautiful.

HUH.




Julia

Of We Go, Into The Wild Blue Yonder

Those are the first lyrics to the theme song for the US Air Force. I probably should have used that title before I went off to boot camp at the Academy, but hey, better late than never I suppose.

Anyway, in about an hour (which will be 4 am, joy) I am going to be driving to the airport and from there will be jetting off to upstate New York. I will be spending roughly a week up there, reuniting with my extended family. Double joy.

The good news is that I will have my phone, internet, and cigarettes this time. The bad news is that I am going to be spending a week with people whom I am related to.

It's not that I hate all of my family on principle, it's more that I am not a 'family person' and spending another week away from booze and sex is not exactly my idea of a fun time.

Alright, alright, I shouldn't be bitching. I know that there are immanent shenanigans to be had and possibly new friends to meet. It's very generous of my close family to have payed for the trip and I should be grateful...

It's not so much a situational issue as a timing issue. I am slightly excited to see my ridiculous, Jewish, deaf (I'm fluent in sign language for a reason), extremely eccentric extended family. I am stoked-ish to not be in Colorado for a bit.

It's just that after a week of normality, it's a tad aggravating to have to suddenly be absent from my life for a week.

It's very odd how twisted my insides are about this. I'm generally bored shitless with my normal life and yearning to be elsewhere doing other things, but now that I'm getting the chance to, all I want is to have a few days of boredom.

Again, timing. Control. I want the new and different events in my life to happen on my terms.

Again, also, with the making this a positive thing and rolling with the punches.

Anyway, just to end on a wholly pessimistic note, if I happen to die or be terminally maimed in a fiery plane crash, random terrorist attack, camping accident, or polar bear invasion, I would like to thank you all for reading and commenting, because it's cool to know that someone out there gives half a fuck about the ridiculousness that is my convoluted life.

Yours always,


Julia

Party Monster? As in Macaulay Culkin? As in glitter-covered, platform wearing gay men prancing about New York and doing copious amounts of drugs?

Just watched it.

Sweet Jesus, I adore that movie, no matter how incredibly fucked up it was.

Healing Rave Power

There is nothing like walking through a crowded Denver pedestrian mall in lingerée, fishnets, and gogo boots while on the way to a show. It's hilariously fun to keep a mental tally of the judgmental looks from post-menopausal women, the lingering gazes from their husbands, and the fascinated stares from their children.

Better still is the separate tally for the car honks, wolf whistles, sleazy greetings, and feasting eyes of desperately sex-obsessed single men. Though any feminist would be disgusted, I find it flattering and entertaining when passing men show their appreciation of my scantily-clad self in their crude,  generally loud manner.

One man, after his friend pointed my friend and I out, yelled "OH SHIT!" as we passed by. My partner in sexy crime and I broke out laughing at the unbridled response to our slutty gallavant through downtown. Night = made.

After the ridiculousness and stress of the preceeding week, all that I could do on Saturday night was rave. My driving need for familiarity in the face of adversity has finally been quenched by the pumping bass and general sleaziness of my weekend lifestyle. In short, I am whole again.

Also, in case anyone doubts my legitimacy as a raver, I give you a picture of me from the last small show I went to, in which I am wearing about a third of all the kandi that I own:

And just so you have an idea of what I was walking through the pedestrian mall looking like, this is a typical rave outfit:

Yep.
Anyway.

Life's officially back to normal for the next week before I leave again.


Julia