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.

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

xoxo

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.

xoxo

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.

xoxo

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...)

xoxo

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...

xoxo

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.

xoxo

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.

xoxo

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.

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!!!

xo

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. 

Seriously:

"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.

xo

Hank

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.

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.

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. 

Bartender.

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

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)

Three Blind Mice

I really shouldn't be awake right now. Considering how much I drank last night and how little I slept, I should be in bed, under my covers, with Murray in my neck, and sleeping. Last night's craziness started out when the power went out in my building. Thinking the maintenance men blew the fuse, I opened my back door to see if I could see anyone and was aggressively greeted by some hurricane-force winds and hostile rains. I named the storm Tropical Storm Coca Ina. 
I took off my Chucks and lay on my bed thinking, "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" I was friggin hungry but didn't think I could manage to get around in that storm. I was just laying here texting my cyber-crush Mr. Lightfoot when I heard the downstairs door open and a male and female voice in the stairwell. I assumed it was my cute downstairs neighbor and his girlfriend, rubbing it in my face that he had someone to get down with in the power outage while I was up here texting a hot piece four hours away. I was so happy/relieved/grateful to get a knock on my back door from Billy and Sh'Angela. Her name is really Angela but I've been watching RuPaul's Drag Race lately and those queens have permanent residence in my brain now (and in my heart, and Raven, in my loins).
Having gotten locked out of their apartment and getting soaked in the rain, they came to scoop me up to go eat and drink. Dee-lish.
So began our evening. We started out at Waxy's for dinner, pitchers of PBR, a Bloody Mary, and some Coor's Light. Afterwards, we headed to the Deuce, where we met an older dude named McCloud, who was quite the chatterbox. I think Billy and Sh'Angela heard his entire life story, while I continued to text Mr. Lightfoot. Seriously, he's freakin' dreamy.
After the Deuce we wanted to take Sh'Angela to the hostel to show her where we spent last Saturday night and where we plan on spending future Saturday nights (two words: hot foreigners). 
Billy wanted to change his wet clothes so we went back to their place. There, I drunkenly nailed the shit out of my shin on an insanely heavy van seat they randomly have sitting in their living room. We hung out there for awhile, and Sh'Angela and I walked over to David's to buy some water and sugary treats.
Back at their place Sh'Angela mixed up some Root Beer Vodka drinks and I couldn't drink it; I retched with every sip. Who thought a root beer flavored vodka was a good idea? It's not. Not at that board meeting, not when they manufactured it, not last night, not tonight, not next month, not when the world ends. Root Beer flavor + vodka = the taste in your mouth and the back of your throat after vomiting.
Billy changed and came out to the foyer where I had just taken a picture of myself and realized that my skin tone blended into the color of the walls, which were painted a ghostly-white not commonly found in nature. I took my hoodie off to take more pictures and when Billy zipped up his hoodie right behind me he managed to get the skin on my arm caught in his zipper. HOW does that shit happen?! It hurt like a mother, but definitely not as much as when my shin was violently introduced to the metal frame of the van seat. (Billy had said to me, "That's gonna hurt when you're sober." Uh, no betch, that shit hurt then, drunk and clumsy, that shit hurt.)
We never made it to the hostel. I was about to curl up on the van seat with Buggy but Billy handed me a jump rope, saying, "You need some energy? Here, jump rope!" For about fifteen seconds I was Rocky Balboa, jumping the shit outta that rope.
Once at Automatic's Sh'Angela's friend wouldn't take no for an answer and got me a beer, and then after I finished it, handed me another. I kept telling him, "No, really, thank you, but no, I really can't drink anymore." You wanna know what this guy said to me? He said, "Well, just hold it then." Clearly, when you give a clumsy drunk another beer to "hold," she's gonna drink it, and then, when the slutty barmaid pours a shot of vodka into said drunk's mouth, the clumsy drunk will spill her beer all over the bar. And that's when my liver got up and yelled, "SHUT IT DOWN!" and walked out of her therapist's office.

Billy always manages to find the most random things laying around on the streets and sidewalks of South Beach.

A piece of meat that looked like a whale. And yes, that is blood shooting out of his blowhole.

Sh'Angela and I at Waxy's.

 Sweet Buggy

Still life.

Those creme-filled vanilla cupcakes were super tasty.

Is that a ghost?! Oh.. no, it's just me.

 Sh'Angela is offering me some bronzer.

I love these two.

Strikin' serious poses.

Vodka bottle in the shape of a skull.

Billy, the skull-shaped bottle, me, and my bird hair.