Monday, November 29, 2010

Lost and Fou---WTF IS THAT

The other day at work there was this thing laying on the ground and I walked over to pick it up and throw it away because I hate litter. When I got to this object I stopped dead in my tracks. The little Hispanic lady standing next to this thing was staring down at it. We stared quietly at this object for a few seconds, then simultaneously looked at each other and were like, "¿¡Que es eso?!" I asked her where it came from; she said she didn't know, that she just saw it laying there on the floor. I said, "Que cosa mas rara....." then scooped it up in a tray. I stared at it in the tray for a good while, longer than I should have I suppose, but I just had so many questions for this little guy!!!
I wanted to know where it came from. Did this fall out of someone's suitcase or purse? Did this fall out of someone's pocket? Or did this fall off someone's hand? Was this a prosthetic thumb?! What happened to the biological finger this fake finger replaced, was it severed in a heavy machinery accident? Did the wearer take off fakey to sleep at night? Did the wearer have a special dish on their night stand for this little guy? What was the purpose of the red fabric inside? And furthermore, why was this thing never washed?! Oh filthy little angel prosthetic thumb!!! Where have you been in your travels that your owner couldn't once take you in the shower with him?! You poor little fake thumb......

Also, I should mention that this fake thumb was hard as heck. It was not rubbery or squishy but hard and plastic-y. I turned it in to the Lost & Found, just in case the owner came back for his yucky digit.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

5 things VIII

Five things I'm grateful for, in no particular order:
1. Ikea
2. My dermatologist
3. Unlimited texting
4. Cheetos
5. Ryan Gosling

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

5 things VII

Five words I love, Wednesday, 11/24, 11:44pm.
1. sociopath
2. uterus
3. frenzy
4. exhilarating
5. translucent


Monday, November 22, 2010

5 things VI

Five things that will always be awesome, Monday, 11:41 pm:
1. Netflix.
2. My homeboy Scott's texts in "Spanish." That white boy cracks me UP! (ok sorry, I know you're not 'white,' Italian-German mofo.)
3. Tina Fey.
4. Twinkies.
5. My bro. Diego will always be awesome.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

5 things V

Five things I love, Sunday, November 21st, 11:44 pm.
1. Spent the weekend with my super-amazing brother, his super-sweet new girlfriend, my tranny-betch cousine, and my bro's friends, who all, understandably, adore my bro.
2. Having friends that don't yell at me for texting while driving.
3. I love the sepia setting on my camera. I love it so much.
4. Simultaneously texting my TWD buddies during the show, discussing our thoughts, feelings, and rage at the survivors/walkers/vatos.
5. Singing along to Nirvana at the top of my bird-lungs in my car on really long drives.

Friday, November 5, 2010

5 things IV

Five things that are totally awesome, right now, November 5th, 2010, 10:14 pm.
1. My body is really sore from my kickboxing class last night, but I haven't felt this good in a really long time.
2. Meester Escott, my rad internet friend that lives in one of my favorite cities in the world (Richmond), telling me I'm a "down-ass bitch."
3. Watching an encore presentation of AMC's The Walking Dead, and accepting the fact that this is something I may very well develop a '30 Rock'-like addiction to.
4. Going to Ikea tomorrow with Belinda-tran.
5. Knowing that I'm gonna be working with two of my favorite work buddies for the next year (I'm lookin' at you, Rashaund and Chiqueta, I'm lookin' at you...)

5 things III

Really quick, before midnight, 5 things that I love, November 4th, 2010, 11:55 pm.
1. Mama Isabel saying, "they sell like hot bread" instead of "they sell like hotcakes," in her cute Argentine accent.
2. Um hello miss lady my super awesome cardio kickboxing class I had tonight!!!
3. The tranny I met today, named David, with lots of plastic surgery and a botched nose job.
4. The first phone conversation with my internet friend who is totally rad (and btw laughed at all my jokes) 
5. Sitting in the bathroom with my MacBook, naked save for undies and a heaping pile of hair dye in my weave, 'cause you know i gotta wash the grays right outta my hair!!!!

Thursday, November 4, 2010

It finally happened.

I recently began a new shift at work, where I get off at sweet and lovely 2:30 pm, but I go in at the exhausting and brutal time of 8:30 am. Which means I set my alarm at 6:45 and snooze 'til about 7:10. Today though, I overslept until 7:18. That is very late, you see! So, I jumped in the shower, got dressed, hurriedly brushed my teeth, and put some self-esteem, AKA makeup, on.
Later in the day at work, I went to the bathroom and as usual, I looked at myself in the mirror. Primarily because I'm vain and I love checking myself out in any reflective surface I walk past, but also to check on my hair. I'm letting it grow out, and it's beginning to evolve into a big curly mess. Also, I don't really bother doing anything to my weave in the morning. I just pull it back with a headband and call it a day. Because of my chronic hair-styling-in-the-morning laziness, I tend to have this constant flat spot on the back of my head, where my head and pillow have made sweet, sweet love all six to seven hours that I am getting my beauty sleep.
Well, when I looked in the mirror today at work, I looked ... weird. I was like, "Damn gurl, what's wrong witcher face?!" I thought I definitely needed to get more sleep, or maybe even some sun. I couldn't recognize myself. I just stared at my reflection until I finally began to identify the face looking back at me. I recognized the face in the mirror from a small, obscure movie... maybe you've heard of it? It's called Mommie Dearest. I actually managed to pencil in some Joan Crawford eyebrows in my sleepyface rush to get to work on time. 
I was so freakin' amused with myself. I mean, I love Joan, I really love Mommie Dearest, and I really, really love my eyebrows. I just never thought I would subconsciously merge the three on my face, by accident, without being in full costume or character. (Oh, who am I kidding? There's always a little Joan Crawford in me. Trust.) Although I adore Joan, I really need to sharpen my eyebrow pencil before I fill in my eyebrows in the morning, because, as Tim Gunn would say, "That's A LOT of look!!" And really, only Joan can pull that off. I just looked a little ... a little too Baker acted, if you know what I mean...

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

5 things II

Five things that I love, right now, Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010, 10:23 pm:
1. Modern Family.
2. Sharing a PBR tall boy with my mom.
3. Making racist jokes at work with my girl Chiqueta.
4. Little Debbie Nutty Bars.
5. My brand new purple watch.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

5 things

Alright, really quick, five things off the top of my head that I love, at this moment in time, Tuesday, November 2nd, 2010, at 11:40 pm.
1. Watching Everybody Loves Raymond with my dad.
2. Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime Tea.
3. My new dark green and sparkly nail polish called Emerald City.
4. The sound the doggie door makes when Nina goes outside.
5. The new embroidery piece I started last night and finished a little while ago.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Belinda and Her Owl Hat

On Halloween Belinda and I headed down to Flamingo Park to have a photo shoot with the owl ear-flap hat I crocheted for her. I took about fifty pics, and these are my favorites.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Little Baby Babies

Meet some small creatures I have given life to.
First up, we have little Walter. He just started first grade in Richmond, Virginia. He loves ice cream, polka dots, and walking around barefoot.

Next up, we have lovely Sabine. She is an Accessories Designer from Paris. She loves to play board games and belongs to a Synchronized Swimming team.

Finally, we have Mosquito. He hails from the Black Hills of South Dakota. He is very charming and has a great sense of humor. He loves to play the drums and is a part-time pastry chef.

This is their last week living with me. Next week they will be moving to their new homes, but I'm sure they will be loved and cared for as much as I have. I love you little babies!!! See you later!!! Don't forget to write!!!



On Tuesday night I went to my first yoga class in years. The instructor and her assistant laughed when I told them I had bought my yoga mat a year ago, but had just taken it out of the plastic package the night before. True story. The class was really great, and I definitely will return next week for some more yoga action, and also because I don't really think I went where the instructor wanted me to go. I mean, while she was leading us through meditations and breathing exercises, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I like the way my legs look in tights, but I also kept thinking, "Please Tina Fey, do not let me get a camel toe." 

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

This One's For My Trannies

Last weekend I had a three-day weekend due to a change in my work schedule. I used to be off Fridays and Saturdays, and now I'm off Saturdays and Sundays (go on and hate). I was thinking about how to spend my three-day weekend when I heard the call of a tranny in distress. (The tranny-in-distress call is not unlike the sound of a young gaysian belting out terrible karaoke songs.) 
I hurriedly packed my fabulous PBR duffle bag and hauled ass outta Miami to visit my Tampa Bay tranny, my cousine Goldie. We spent Friday night surrounded by fabulous gays and manly drag queens at Hamburger Mary's in Ybor City, where we ordered, among other things, fried twinkies. Um hello miss lady yes you are imagining that correctly: super tasty and super fried Twinkies.
As far as the entertainment at Hamburger Mary's, I kept thinking, "These queens ain't got shit on my ladies at Lips!!" (Haven't been to Lips, in Ft. Lauderdale? GO. Make reservations RIGHT NOW and go. You will NOT be disappoint. Trust.) After Hamburger Mary's we went to a small gay shop where I found the perfect magnet for me:
Oh, you haven't heard about my last break-up? Yeah, this magnet sums it up REAL. QUICK. ::finger snaps::

On Saturday, Goldie and I wandered around Ikea, daydreaming about all the things we would buy if money were no object, and also speculating about how many germs were on the beds and mattresses on display. We also thought it was hilarious imitating our moms getting in and out of bed. Our grandmother is right: we're shitty daughters. (Just kidding, brother, don't get all dad on me.)

On Saturday evening we joined our other Tampa tranny, Mia, and a few other friends at a German restaurant. My first time eating German food was uh-mazing. Loved it, LOVED IT! The food was super delicious, and there was this tiny little old lady playing the accordion and singing. Sweetness!!!
The food was so delicious that Mia couldn't help but lick her plate. 
"Damn, Mia, chill the fuck out!! You in public, girl!" 
This might be one of my most favorite pics I've ever taken with my iPhone.

After dinner we got down to some good ol' fashioned pumpkin carvin.' Goldie, Mia, Andrew, and I headed back to Goldie's house to get down n' get dirty with some pumpkin goo. We had some Octoberfest beer and some candy corn. Even though Andrew kept saying how disgusting candy corn is I couldn't stop shoveling them in my mouth; I will always love the candy corn!!! You can't make me stop loving candy corn, Andrew, you failed candy corn interventionist!!!!
Ok so with three pumpkins and four people, Goldie and Andrew tag-teamed a pumpkin, while Mia and I each had our own. Goldie and Andrew used a pattern from a pumpkin-carving book, and they went straight for the four-pumpkin patterns. I speculated that the number of little pumpkin icons a pattern had should be indicative of how many pumpkins you'd fuck up before realizing your pumpkin carving mistakes and correcting them on yet another pumpkin. The number of little pumpkin icons a pattern gets is in direct correlation to the difficulty of carving that specific pattern on your big, wonky, orange, goo-filled gourd. (Can we talk about yummy pumpkin goo, and how fun scraping it out of the pumpkin is? Can I get a job where I just mash my fingers in pumpkin goo and pumpkin seeds all day? Email me. Serious inquiries only.)
Mia and I wanted to go pattern-free and wing it, and so we drew inspiration from our roots. Here are our pumpkins:
Goldie and Andrew's Four-Pumpkin Pumpkin 
Mia's Pumpkin:
My pumpkin:
And the pumpkin pageantry on full display:
The Wu Pumpkins:
I was able to perfectly carve out each letter, so of course this provided us with more photo opps:
This was my tribute to Liz Lemon:

On Sunday morning, Goldie, Mia, and I had Mexican for breakfast at Taco Bus. I had a really tasty tofu quesadilla, but I don't remember what the other trannies ate because we were having a serious tranny discussion. Mostly sharing tips on maintaining and maximizing our fabulous tranny ways, and what to do when we hear the call of a tranny in distress.
Also, the words "douchebag," "idiot," and "fucking low-life" may also have been dropped a few times. Just sayin.'

Overall it was an awesome weekend spent with strong, fabulous trannies and lots of really good food. I tell ya, having a bird stomach makes me re-consider my whole stance on bulimia sometimes. Don't judge. Fried Twinkies and a four-course German meal wouldn't DARE judge you, so don't you be judging me as their vessel, their super fabulous (oh Tina Fey, more food, fuuuuu, how the hell am I supposed to finish all this delicious food) vessel.


Friday, August 27, 2010

I wish I could quit you!!!

It's been a little over twenty-four hours since I quit facebook. I wasn't sure how to commemorate this triumph until I checked my email and saw a new message from my gay husband, Luz Clarita De La Playa. He sent me this video with the message: "I saw this & instantly thought of you. Enjoy." I watched the video, fell in love, and replied with, "He wears a bigger bra cup than me."

Congratulations to me for going a whole day without facebook. I am awesome! Or as Nick puts it, "brave."

Sunday, May 16, 2010


A little something I made for a friend. Charles Bukowski quote, hand embroidery on canvas. 

Sometimes the back of certain embroidery pieces are so lovely to me.

The Night We Met Tyler: Part 2

I just unhinged my jaw and swallowed whole three quarters of the biggest burrito I've ever had in my life. I now lay immobilized on my bed with an engorged stomach, so naturally I felt it was the right time to continue my Tyler story. I need to type fast before my body begins to violently reject my late dinner and I'm sent running for the hills. The hills being my kitchen, where I can puke in the garbage can, surrounded by the comforting sight of all the PBR cans strewn about this afternoon by Billy, Bel, and me. We abandon empty beer cans on any flat surface, and later as I go about collecting them I reminisce about whatever random ridiculousness we were laughing at that distracted us enough that we would forget the can completely.
In "The Night We Met Tyler: Part 1," I left off at the part where the three of us became a unit. During our initial bonding experience, a tattooed guy walked into the bar. (You know how I feel about tattooed dudes...) He sat to Tyler's right and they talked to each other for quite a while. Then he came around and started asking me who tattooed my arms, and what my tattoos meant, etc. He asked what nationality I was, and when I told him my parents are Argentine, but I was born and raised in Miami, he instantly became the most fucking annoying person in South Beach. 
He started talking about Che Guevara, and giving me his theory as to why "this country fucking sucks," and how he "can't wait to get the fuck out," and it was all just a shit-storm of anti-American sentiments. My dad's a Vietnam Veteran and my brother's a veteran of both Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom wars, so I was about ready to gouge out this fucker's eyeballs. Which brings us to how he got his nickname, Crazy Eyes. He had light eyes; on a well-adjusted individual they would have been really attractive. However, on a drunken, bellicose, idiot, they made him look like a psych ward escapee. Especially 'cause he was all wide-eyed and shifty. After what felt like an eternity, and after he nearly had me in a boredom-induced coma, I looked at Tyler and Belinda with pleading eyes that screamed, "HELP ME!" I think they were enjoying my uncomfortable body language and overall look of despair, because I was slowly sliding off my barstool and must have had the worst posture ever. At one point I just leaned over and said to them, (not even caring if Crazy Eyes could hear me,) "This guy is insane, he's insane!" Tyler just laughed, and I was like, "Do you not care? He's nuts. Really. Belinda help. Help me please. I'll buy you a beer. Get him away from me." The music in there was loud enough that I thought Crazy Eyes wouldn't hear me. When I turned back to Crazy Eyes, his eyes had gotten wider, and he puffed his mouth up like a blowfish. I thought for sure he heard me talking shit about him and was gettin' ready to knock me on my ass, when he continued talking about how America is such a huge piece of shit. Apparently, not only is Crazy Eyes partially deaf, but he has a unique way of catching his breath when he's in the middle of a rant. Acting like an underwater sea creature only added to his batshit crazy vibe. 
Eventually Crazy Eyes left me to go empty his angry bladder (at this point I just assumed he had lots of misdirected anger in his small tattooed frame and that he must have really violent bodily functions). Belinda, Tyler, and I regrouped, and I explained to them that they are not to allow Crazy Eyes to get that close to me again. I asked Tyler, "What the hell were you two talking about for so long? 'Cause all I got was crazy-talk." Tyler was too nice to say anything mean about Crazy Eyes. Which is really fine with me, 'cause I got enough bitch in me for a small village. (A small village populated by a dying breed of tiny people.)
So there we were, the three of us, sitting at the bar talking while simultaneously shunning any stranger that tried to infiltrate our Circle Of Trust, when Belinda and I were approached by a super cute, short-haired, tattooed girl. She asked us a question about where would be a good place to go dancing, when Belinda pointed to a tattoo on her inner arm. Immediately recognizing the Hedwig tattoo, I grabbed her arm and shrieked. I think I freaked her out because she politely yanked her arm out of my grip. Belinda laughed and I was like, "OMG OMG HEDWIG!!!!"
That's how we met lovely Dominique and her beautiful aunt, Annika. They were on vacation from San Francisco, weren't shifty-eyed, and seemed well-adjusted, so we allowed them entry into our Circle of Trust. After a little while, Tyler and Annika kind of drifted off into their own conversation, and Belinda and Dominique did the same. I was left an open and easy target for Crazy Eyes, and he didn't waste any time in gettin' back to me. This time around, however, he didn't talk about what he feels is wrong with this country, he talked about his failing marriage. I was thinking, "Dude, talking to girls in bars is not the way to repair your marriage..." but whatever, the guy already seemed a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket. Not the sharpest tool in the shed. The lights are on, but nobody's home. I'll stop.
After Dominique and Annika left, we quickly formed our trio again, and went back to shunning outsiders. Belinda and I decided that Tyler was nice enough and non-creepy enough that we would want to hang out with him again on his vacation. Belinda and I put my number in Tyler's phone as "Belinda & Kat, Tour Guides." He was going to be in South Beach for a little over a week, and the next day his friend/bandmate, Mike was flying in.

Which brings me to the next installment in my blog, "The Night We Met Mike, Tony, Eric, Howard, Danny, and Crazy Eyes 2.0."  

Saturday, May 15, 2010

The Night We Met Tyler: Part 1

As you know by now, Belinda and I frequent a small bar two blocks away from my apartment: Lush!!! It has one pool table, two big bathrooms, and three cool bartenders. The best part is that it's not your typical "South Beach" bar by any means. It's a great place for low-maintenance-personality types; a haven for genuine people with real hang-ups and occasional social-anxiety disorder. We went to our home-away-from home a few Tuesdays ago, and as we walked in, were greeted with an awesome thank you from the HBIC (Head Bartender In Charge) Justin, for finding him a ska band to play the following night. He was so happy, he gave us each a beer on the house as we took our seats at the bar. I said to him, "God, I really hope they don't suck... I've never heard them before but they came highly recommended from a reliable source, so they should be... sorta good...?" He said, "I don't care, I don't care, I'm just happy to have a live ska band here tomorrow night!!" Earlier when I said, "God, I hope they don't suck," the bearded guy sitting at the bar to our right laughed at my comment. I thought, "Well, there's a friendly fellow..." Little did I know that we were going to be spending the next crazy week with him and his friend. (That's not a euphemism; his "friend" is actually his buddy that flew into Miami the next day.)
So Belinda and I sat there making small talk with Justin, while Bearded Dude drank his beers and politely eavesdropped. Justin asked us where we were from, and Belinda said, "I'm from Jacksonville, and she's from Miami." He looked at me and said, "Miami? Really?! You don't look like you're from Miami." Belinda said, "Well, she does have those chola eyebrows..." I laughed and said, "These eyebrows are from South Central, honey!" Justin, Belinda, and Bearded Dude all laughed out loud; they understood that my eyebrows are a status symbol one should not fuck with. 
Since we don't own TVs, Belinda and I always get sucked in to the hypnotic flat-screen TV that hangs right over our seats at the bar. They usually have an EXTREME sports reality show playing. We sat there silently watching skiing on TV and then for some strange reason, we started talking about dying, specifically, ways we would prefer to die. Because naturally, skiing makes me think of death. 
When it comes to death and dying, my feelings and thoughts on the matter have changed over the years, except for one thought that's remained the same: I hope nothing happens to my eyebrows. (One day I was thrift shopping with my cousin and brother. Diego grabbed a funny hat and plopped it right on my head. The look of horror on my face was his cue to take it off immediately. He said, "Sorry! I forgot how you are with germs and other people's hats." I replied, "No, it's not that. My eyebrows! Did you mess up my eyebrows?!" I was more concerned that my eyebrows had been temporarily messed up than if some tiny critter laid eggs in my hair. True Story.)
I was telling Belinda that I would rather be set on fire than die by drowning, and we were discussing the logistics of the two, when Bearded Dude started laughing and said something like, "Are you two really talking about ways to die?" Belinda said to him, "Yeah, she says she would rather die from a fire than from drowning, which I think would be less painless and more peaceful." So the two of them started trying to convince me that I was fucked up for choosing fire over drowning, at least, that's the way it felt. Those goddamned bullies. They had me imagine myself dying from drowning, floating towards the bottom of the ocean, at which point my lungs began to close up inside my drunk birdcage chest. After I could breathe normally again, the three of us were emotionally attached for the rest of the night.

to be continued.... (in other words, I forgot details of that night [don't judge] so I gotta call my partner-in-crime Bel.)

Monday, April 19, 2010

Fear and Loathing In ... The Lounge Car

 Meeting and finding out all about new people is one of my favorite things. Seeing a really cute guy but not having the courage to talk to him is one of my least favorite things. The two of these happened to me on the train ride to Tampa on Thursday afternoon in the Lounge Car. If you're on a train ride and want to meet, share a beer with, or simply stare at, random strangers, you head to the Lounge Car. 
After having woken up from a seriously uncomfortable and short nap in my seat, I realized that the blonde lady that sat next to me was gone. She had been friendly and I knew I could strike up a conversation with her. A baby was crying a few rows ahead of me, and some inconsiderate douche was watching a movie on his laptop at full volume and without headphones. My options for decent behavior at this point were limited. I couldn't tell the crying baby to shut the hell up, but I was about to channel my frustrations with it and with the action-movie-loving-and-headphones-hating-douche entirely on the dude with the laptop. I was wondering how to handle the situation, if at all. The only things dancing around in my brains were really mean, laced with profanities, and completely passive-aggressive. Something along the lines of, "Excuse me, but do you have your headphones with you? Because no one else here wants to listen to your shitty movie, and clearly you and that baby are the two rudest motherfuckers in this car. So either put on some headphones or turn that shit off and read a book!!!" (I really can't stand the sound of a baby crying. I once told a co-worker I'd rather hear someone get shot than listen to a crying infant. The fucked up thing is I really meant it.)
I got up from my seat and headed to the bathroom. Using a bathroom on a train requires great balance and coordination, neither of which would ever be used to describe me. I'm more clumsy than a baby bull in a china shop. I was happy and relieved (literally and mentally) that I didn't come within an inch of that toilet. Yikes. Also, let's talk about the fact that I didn't have to use soap to wash my hands because the water was so damn scalding hot, I'm pretty sure it burned off whatever germs I had hanging out on the surface of my hands.
I made my way to the Lounge Car which was about three cars away. I stumbled my way through the cars trying not to fall on anyone's lap as the train was going so fast it was almost flying off the tracks. When I opened the sliding door to the Lounge, I scanned the room, first, to see if there were any available booths, then, to see who was in there that I would be drawn to in order to extract their whole life story. And that's when I laid eyes on him. He was sitting in the last booth on the right, in the corner, against the window. I thought to myself, "Hello.... that's a hot piece...." We made eye contact and of course I was instantly shy; it's like I crawl into a shell and the only way to lure me out is either with gay guys or tacos. I walked into the small cafe area to buy a Red Bull, and then walked back to the lounge. I picked an empty booth facing him, because even though I didn't have the sober courage to actually speak to him, I did want to just prop my head in my hands and gaze at him constantly, then look away nervously when he would catch me staring. It's really mature of me, I know, I know, you don't have to say it.
I pulled out my Chelsea Handler book, "Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang," and read a little bit here and there in between observing the other passengers, lookin' out the window, and getting caught starin' at him. He looked like a younger, more innocent Johnny Depp, not young like 21-Jump-Street-young, but maybe a few years older. More of a Secret-Window-Johnny. He was wearing an unbuttoned plaid shirt over a t-shirt; the sleeves were rolled up and so his tattoos were visible, and you all know how I feel about a cute guy with nice colorful tattoos..... Crap I'm getting carried away. Ok let's continue. He was wearing a fedora and had such a nice smile. Oh wait, let's clarify that he wasn't smiling at me (yet) but because he was smiling at the people he was sitting with and I was facing him I would catch glimpses. 
He was sitting with an older man and two women, and I was trying to figure out what their relationships to him were, in order to see how good my chances were of making my way onto his lap. I thought they might be his family, but then I heard the most magical thing: they asked him how old he was! Then, they asked him what his tattoos meant!!! I suddenly knew that they were perfect strangers and the door was wide open. I would not get shanked with a broken beer bottle for trying to talk to him. 

::sigh:: Even though I knew that he was traveling alone, I still did not have the courage to talk to him, and I was growing more and more frustrated as the time passed. He began smiling at me, which was lovely, but how was I supposed to break the ice when he was surrounded by three drunk people that seemed to really like him, and as a result, not leave his freaking side? As I was thinking of how to pounce, another guy walked into the Lounge Car and asked me if he could sit at my booth. Of course I said yes, while two words flashed in great big neon letters while fireworks fired off behind them, in my brains: COCK BLOCK. I really did appreciate that I finally had someone to talk to, I was just bummed that it was a young man around my age who could potentially turn away any hot, tattooed, fedora-wearing guys that might be interested in talking to me. I mean, shit, I had the entire booth to myself!! I put my book away and started talking to the New Guy. We never exchanged names, just where we were from, where we were headed to, our ages, and a little bit about who we were visiting and why. He had such a strange dialect; when I could understand what he was saying to me, I laughed because he was funny. We joked around about a few of the other passengers in the car, and he laughed at all my jokes. I decided to go buy a beer in the cafe because I had relaxed a little in talking to New Guy, so it was time for some liquid courage in order to talk to the hot, tattooed, fedora-wearing dude. 
Even though I had Blue Moon coursing through my veins, it was still impossible to take the hot dude away from his fan club. The only thing that would have been a guaranteed tactic would have been to stand up, point at him and say, "Let's go for a walk!!" then grab him arm in arm as I lead him away to a more secluded car. Totally romantic and non-creepy, right?? Totes mug-otes!!!
Finally the train slowed down and approached the Tampa station. One of his fans said the saddest thing, "Good luck in Atlanta!" I knew we were parting ways. The other blonde lady, who I recognized as the blonde that sat next to me for like five minutes before taking off for the lounge, said to him, "Call me if you need anything!!" I felt so frustrated with myself!!! I hate being shy, I'm really not that shy anymore, but when there's a hot piece in the mix I resort to a catatonia that can only be cured with beer. 
I knew I better head to my seat, get my PBR duffle bag, and get off the train with the rest of the Tampa crew. I said goodbye to New Guy, but couldn't bring myself to look at the tattooed wonder. 
Once back at my seat, I said to the blonde, "The guy at your table, with the tattoos.... tell me all about him." She went nuts! She said, "Ohhh, that's Matt, isn't he cute??" And I said, "Yes! He's very cute, what do you know about him??" I knew she was drunk because she kept saying how cute he was and if she wasn't engaged she would totally try to hook up with him because he was just too cute! She said, "His name is Matt, and he's a musician, and he's moving to Atlanta, and he's sooo sweet and cute!!" I said, "You have to text him for me, please! Tell him I said 'hi!'" She was quick to whip out her phone and text away, and we both waited for the reply like a couple of game show contestants waiting to see what we had won. He wrote back and we shrieked, and by this time every passenger within earshot knew what we were doing and how cute Matt was. Kim asked Matt if she could give me his number. He replied, "Ha ha, did she ask for it?" Then drunk Kimmie gave him my phone number, saying, "You don't mind, right?" I said, "Oh Hell no! You give him my number!!! Oh my god... how excitiiing!!!" Clearly, Kim and I are cut from the same cloth because every time Matt would text her back we would giggle. (Heaven help us.)
We made our way off the train and Kim stopped outside to smoke a cigarette. I told her I needed to get to the bathroom as soon as possible because my bladder was about to get up and walk out, all the while yelling at me about how irresponsible I was to let her get that full and did I not know how unhealthy that is?!?! My organs can be really passive-aggressive and controlling.
Matt texted me a little while later. We became facebook friends that night. He sent me the link to his music, and I listened to it and liked it so much. It's very reminiscent of Bright Eyes, which I love. I joked with him that it was a really good thing I didn't listen to his music before getting to Tampa because I surely would've missed my stop and stayed on the train with him... yeah... I totally would have. ::sigh::
liquid courage.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

I shall call him... Bartender

Thursday night I went to a local dive bar with my girl Belinda. We walked in with our own beers, sat at a small table, and talked while drinking our beers, very casually. You see, we're very casual ladies. There were five other people in there: a couple playing pool, two guys sitting at the bar (one had a skateboard with him: major sighs), and the bartender. A little while later the skater took off and we both sighed heavily, as he was quite tasty. We decided to go sit at the bar and order a couple of beers. The bartender smiled at us and said, "So you finally decided to join us," to which I replied, "Yes, but we're very anti-social, so please don't talk to us. Look away!" He laughed and said, "Ok, I'll get you your drinks, then leave you alone." The guy sitting at the bar finished his drink and took off. A few minutes later the couple playing pool walked out, leaving just the three of us in this tiny bar. I said to Belinda, "Are we driving everyone away?" The bartender heard me and said, "You guys are bad for business!" We giggled and I believe we simultaneously had the same thought, "Um, helloooo bartender.... (wink wink ....)"
So I waved him over to us and he smiled and said, "Oh, now you're ready to talk?" And I smiled and said, "Yeah, I just have a few questions." If you know me, and know what my definition of the term, "just a few questions," is, then you know that I interrogated the shit out of that bartender. I asked him why he didn't have a dart board in the bar. He said they once had one, but people kept walking in front of it. I said, "Um... if you're walking in front of a dart board, you deserve to get hit with a dart." I asked where in the bar had they placed the dart board, and we talked about other areas where it could work. I asked if he was a surfer. I forgot his reply to that question since I was distracted by his nose; he very much resembled Michelangelo's David. I asked what was up with the stripper pole in the corner; he said, "That's not a stripper pole, that's a support beam!" I asked if it was his bar, I asked where the airline seats against the wall came from, I asked about the red lighting in the ladies room, I asked what his favorite beer in the case was, I asked about the deli case, and I asked about the jello shots. He brought Belinda and I a couple of jello shots. I looked at her and whispered, "I'm still recuperating..." I was still recovering from my cray-cray birthday Tuesday night. Belinda told him it was my birthday the other day and we had a crazy night. He said, "Well the jello shots are my birthday gift to you." So charming, that bartender... He said his favorite beer in the case was Sierra Nevada but lately he'd been drinking lots of Blue Moon. Belinda said she once had one with an orange wedge, and it was delicious. Bartender said he heard it was really good with the orange but they didn't have any orange wedges. I told Bartender that next time we were going to take our own dart board and orange wedges. 
For a little while Belinda and I were mesmerized by the flat screen TV. Neither of us have TVs and rely on Hulu and the Internets to watch our shows. So we weren't so interested in the content of the programing as we were by the crispness of the images and the vibrant colors playing out before us on the big flat screen TV hanging directly over us. We explained this to Bartender and he said it was a good thing to not have a TV. The three of us stared quietly at the TV for a little while, and a few people started to trickle in.
Early on in my questioning a group of blondes walked in. I thought they were totally gonna ruin the vibe the three of us had going. Luckily they only wanted to know where the good restaurants were and had no intention of staying. They asked if he had any drink specials, then yelled, "Okaaay, we'll be back!!" We were like, "Yeah, they're definitely not coming back in here." I was happy to see them leave; they didn't even seem interesting enough to talk to or interrogate. Plus I wanted Bartender's undivided attention. 
So, Belinda and I are making our way back to that bar tonight. I wanna talk to Bartender again and get more material for another post. And stare drunkenly at his lovely profile. 

The Undead

I crocheted a severed zombie finger. Pretty self-explanatory, so here are the pics.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Go Aries, it's ya berfday

Yippeee!!!!! It's my berfday!!!! And I'm so happy to share my berfday with two people I love Love LOVE!!!!! Happy Birthday to Paul Rudd and Black Francis!!!!!!

Paul Rudd, yummy actor

Black Francis, yummy Pixies frontman

Saturday, March 27, 2010

He likes skulls

I embroidered these little skulls for my cyber- and now real-life-crush, Mr. Lightfoot. I embroidered the sugar skull first, but thought it might be too feminine. I then embroidered the black one, thinking the whole time, "imperfect" and "metal." I gave them to him when we finally met in person last weekend. I was nervous as hell. So nervous, in fact,  that I took a small bottle of wine with me on the train ride to meet him. Yes, I took the train to meet him. Shush; don't judge. I knew he wasn't capable of murdering me within the first few minutes of meeting. When we shared our first drink together, we made a toast to rope and chloroform. Oh and he doesn't know this, but when I would text my Top Seven with periodic updates on my safety, I would say things like, "still alive," "happy and unmurdered," and "not strangled yet." Is that morbid? I don't know, I mean, we did meet online... At one point in the past he questioned my desire to kill him. The nerve. You know I'm too lazy for that.

sugar skull

close-up of sugar skull

lots of french knots!

the back of the "metal" skull. i like it so much next time this will be the front.

metal!!! \m/

small skulls

this is how I finished the backs of them. it's not perfect but it's cute.

So I think he liked them because he... um... yeah, he liked them ;o)