omg. OMG. Last night I had a dream I was pregnant and gave birth to tha baby and it was weird! I kept dropping it. And losing it. I was taking a walk from a parking lot to my house and I was like, "God damn, where did my baby go? I gotta stop losin' that shit."

I am so god damn sick of being in this huge creepy house by myself all the time. My mom hasn't moved out yet but she is never here. As I said before, she took most of the furniture. To give you a better idea of my house, it's 2 stories, 5 bedrooms (only 2 have any real furniture), has an office, a vacant echoey dining room, a stupidly laid out family room, a humid kitchen, TWO staircases, no backyard, just an all around quirky, creepy ass place. It gets scary at night and sometimes the front door swings open.

My mom never does any grocery shopping, so I go when I can with her credit card (if she's being generous enough to lend it to me). The last time I went grocery shopping was about 3 weeks ago, I think. Maybe 4. There is no food in the kitchen, maybe some stale crap in the cabinet. And my mom cooking? Out of the fucking question. I'd say she's at the house on average of 6 days out of the month.

My mom genuinely refuses to give me money most of the time, unless she's dropping some bank for me to run an errand for her when  I'm out with friends. She puts all financial responsibility on my dad, whom she won't let in the fucking house even though he's paying all the bills.

There is poor ventilation in the house and it causes weird vortexes (or something) that cause doors to open and close and the entire house is so creaky I can't stand to be here alone. Sometimes I find myself letting people I don't even like come over and hang out just so I don't have to be here by myself.

There are lightbulbs in every room that fizzled out months ago and haven't been replace, so most rooms are half lit. When you go to open a window, sometimes the handle will break off. The knob of front door has broken off more than a few times, making it difficult to feel safe at night with a town full of boozed up hooligans and shameful 711 clerks.

The other day an ill-placed glass picture frame broke in the bathroom. There is glass everywhere and I have no means of cleaning it up (except maybe the creative duct tape method), because my mom took the vacuuming cleaner when she raped the house of furniture a month ago.

What makes things worse is that I haven't been able to drive. At first it was due to legal reasons, not it's due to not even having a car to drive. My friends have been good about taking me places without complaining, but it makes me feel like a little bitch. One of the reasons I haven't been going to school is because of this. And my mom is never here to drive me to school. And I stupidly laid my school schedule around my short-lived Bebe Sport "career". 

What the fuck is my mom doing? Living the unmarried life with her boyfriend Marty, getting drunk on wine and pretending to smoke Kools. She spends the majority of time she has around me on her stupid fucking Treo, blabbing to so-and-so about yadda-yadda. She asks me manipulative questions about my dad and has highly unprofessional emotional outbursts. She goes back and forth from Las Vegas to San Francisco to Carmel to Marin to wherever the hell she says she is, yet she honestly claims with bugged out puppy eyes that I am her "first priority". Yeah right. I haven't frequented her brain on a daily basis for almost two years now. If she's going to be a complete hack of a parent and give up on me completely she should at least be up front about it.

How can one be positive about this situation anymore? Sure, it's wonderful having a place where you can do whatever the hell you want at any time of day, but this isn't a real home to me. Home should be a warm, inviting place that doesn't make you depressed to wake up in.

I know I'm a slob. I'm probably one of the most scattered, disorganized people in a 2 mile radius. I leave cabinets opened, toothpaste tubes unscrewed, and dishes in the sink. I can't recognize clutter from something worthwhile and I leave dirt wherever I go. If I had just realized my mom was going to abandon her responsibilities to me, I would have cleaned myself up a long time ago. But now I'm so far gone that I don't even know where to start.

So just,  FUCK THIS.

So a lot has happened since I forgot to update this journal. Let's slap some bullets!!

• I bought a Nintendo Wii off of Craigs List. Met the sellers at Starbucks. It turned out there to be a coupl eof some timid kids who look about 14-15. They could have been 65 for all I know. The Wii has been an amazing investment. And I think I burn about 20 more calories per hour more than regular video games! I can't abandon my post at Euphnet, though.
  
• I rarely attend class and have had a maternal-like urge to actually do something with my life. I'm not really sure if school is for me when I could be out there creating. Then again, I'm probably the hugest lackadasical piece of shit there is and I could amount to absoloutely nothing. Nothing but being faaabulous!
• I bought some rockstar essentials, including boots, sunglasses, purses, shit like that. I don't think listing purchases are rock n' roll though.
• Traveled down to Carmel to attend my Aunt's wedding. It was a small, simple, painless-but-still-made-me-self-conscious affair. She got married on a cliff. I sang "Going to the Chapel"  with my brother (his name is Thor) and it was 100% glory. I met some future in-laws, and they are midwest as fuck.
• You know what my pet peeve is? People with too many pet peeves. Seriously, feed that shit to your dog.
• I went to prom, although I am no longer a high school student. And I had a lot of fun. Possibly too much.
• My mom is in the process of moving out, and in the process took all the furniture in this huge god damn lonely ass house with her. The day after they moved the furinutre out (approximately 3 weeks) was the same day as prom, and I had the most high school post-prom party this neighborhood has ever seen. But a lot of old people live around here.
• Uh.
  
• INo one will get me!! No one will nderstand me ever. Ever!!!! Never. :( I'm going through a vague identity crisis, nothing out of the ugshe. That word was sort of supposed to sound how it looks, shorthand for "usual". Maybe I should I spelled it "youche" but it doesn't ryhme with douche or anything like that..
• Jesus Christ, what time is it? It's 5 AM! I promised myself I wouldn't do this tonight. Quite honestly, I've been living in a haze of hieneken beer kegs and hash smoke. Jeff Halla, my friend and drug dealer, sold me his bong for a dainty price and my homosexual hispanic pal Ruebem (who is also in his 40's) has been supporting my marijuana habit. Rueben's two roomates both have AIDs, unfortunately. But there is some good that comes out of this situation. His roomates have a medical marijuana card and smoke themselves silly. Rueben frequently takes a bunch of weed for himself and then puts some aside for me every once in a while. But this I mean he gives me an eighth (weed slang term for enough to last a week) every two weeks or so.  I've never met them personally, but they have a pot plant growing for me. Apparently it's six inches high! I find that so adorable.
• Tonight was "girls night". Or something like that. Does that make me gay? Anyway, tonight was girl's night and we ended up going to the Elephant Bar. It was pretty enjoyable for an evil chain! Then we reckoned back to my house and opened a bottle of wine. We have a lot of wine laying around my house because my dad uysed to own a big large huge massive big restaurant, and my dad took all the wine with him when we sold it. So my friends (I think it was Drea. DREA!!!!! DREA GOD DAMMIT I HOPE YOU ARE READING THIS) opened it, and in the process of opening it pushed the cork into the wine and there was all sorts of cork in the wine.  So I had to finish off the bottle, because if I didn't ifnisht he bottle, the cork would have dissolved into the wine and it would be cork-wine by morning.Duh! Sci-ence. Hell of nasty, to quote you native Californians.
  

Until tomorrow, I'm Alexandra M*****! Thank you and good night.

My dad stopped by my work while I was dicking off in the backroom and dropped of a check for 27,000 dollars. The money is now contently sitting under my name at Heritage Bank. Well, I cashed a couple hundred to fill my shitty, $15 plastic wallet.  But then I spent 62 (plus tip) on sushi at Kubota, one of the better restaurants in Japantown. I ordered the  Ahi Cheek,  beef Ribs, nigiri/hamichi nigiri, chef role, and carmelized bananas for desert. It tasted victorious.

When I was 7 my grandma died. She left this money to me after liver cancer took her.  At the time it was 15,000, but since it was relaxing  in a trust it just sort of.... grew. Much like your weight might once you hit the ripe age of fifty. Now, I'm not a millionare or nothin', but I could be if I invest it right. My grandma left me all of that wonderful money for no good fucking reason and I've got to respect it as if it were some sort of powerful natural force. But isn't that what money is? Money is like a cross between a tornado and an earthquake, if both forces could buy you nightly fondue dinners and designer sunglasses.

So, I'm going to buy myself a few things and save the rest. I'm going to crumple up the fact that I have multiple thousands of dollars and toss the mess of possibilities in a mental wastebasket. Saving it is the smart thing to do, so that when I'm older, I can make a down payment on my house. How fucking exciting is that? It's not. If I wanted to be smart and safe I'd just be like every other dipshit scribbling inside the lines and skipping out on fun.  I want to be able to do extremely batshitty, extravagant stuff. I-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-miserable-kids-think-because-I-am-having-the-best-time-being-a-pissant-evah. But I realized I can just piss away my salary! That's why I subconsciously decided to get into this horrible retail torture.

Yaddayaddaaddah, siskboombatta.

Once you go red, you won't leave your bed ™

Once you go Mexican, you'll never want sex again ™

Once you go Turkey, you'll be like "what the hell was that chicken shit"

I'm starting a fresh livejournal because I have hit a pivital age, and with that age, a shitload of responsibility I am absolutely not capable of handling.


Let me start off by saying that I had my liscence suspended in January. I was moving a car that wasn't mind under the influence (after being kicked out of a party). Technically I was moving the car to another parking lot, but I still got pulled over by the same dipshits that kicked me out of the party. I blew a .05 or something, and since I was under 21... no cigar! Like, literally no cigar. I couldn't enjoy my cigar. So that was shitty. The court called to see them, and I have not heard back since early February. I couldn't get a temporary liscense, or a restricted liscense... and I won't until I get that letter in the mail stating when I have the wonderful privalidge of seeing them next. So fuck it, I've been driving illegally ever since.

Three weeks ago, while browsing sleazy Lycra pants at Bebe Sport, I was propositioned for a job by the store manager. Let's refer to her as "Zulu". It was more like Zulu.. sold me a job. As I genuinely say, "Bebe is for sluts with weight problems". But Zulu was such  a persuasive sales lady that I was talked into getting both a job I did not want and an outfit that makes me look like a cheerleader.

So the BeBe betches set up my jawb to start the day after my birthday. And it was stupid. The first day I came in, nobody was there to train me and I didn't get any credit for my hours. The day after this I actually had training, and got to watch one of those cheesy work-place videos for three hours. That day I was a half hour late because I slept through my alarm. As I was rushing out of my house at 10:15 (work started at 10), I hastilly hit the side of my right mirror on the fence that blocks off my narrow-ass driveway. I completely mutilated it. It was like my mom's vag. The mirror was attatched.... barely, but was separated from the thingy . Okay, I'm not very articulate with car talk. Lets just say shit was fucked up, and my shattered mirror was dangling from the {thing that holds it up}. Later  that day I fixed it with duct tape, but for a few hours I had to drive, unliscensed, with a dangling mirror. It made me look like a bad driver or something unspeakable like that!

That same day this gay Mexican man that's friends with my mom came over to drop me off some pot for my birthday. I was having a really bad day so I ended up pissing him off, but he still left the weed. Remind me to write him a thank-you note.

Anyway, I had work the day after that... Friday? And then after that... HOTEL PARTY!!! I rented a hotel for two nights at hotel Valencia (on douchey Santana Row). Bought loads of alky and people were trickling in. The hotel attempted to be strict with us, saying that they only allowed three people per room, but we tiptoed around, beat the system, and managed to cram at least 15 people (give or take) into our room. NIK MOSHER gave me a dildo set! It came with an egg vibrator, regular vibrator, and 2 removable gelly penis heads.  The party was sweet until around 11:15, when after a second noise complaint, the guests were evacuated.

Still had fun the rest of the weekend at the hotel. Friends, sippin' beer, cowboy hats, room service, loungin' by the pool, fantasy livin'. Okay. So.

Last night I set three alarms to wake me up this morning. I had work at 10 again. Well, I didn't wake up until 10:25 when fucking Bebe Sport is calling me an asking where I am. I tried to cover my ass and said that I thought I started work at 11.... fucking whoops! So I'm late for the second time in one fucking week. One minute I'm dreaming about not being at work and the next minute I'm at work with my eye make up on from the night before.

And to make matters even more stressful(or something), I'm supposed to go to a taping of Conan tomorrow, and I was planning on asking Zulu at the whore wharehouse if I could leave work early, but I don't want to stomp on the thin ice I've carved for myself. This completely blows.

All this has had my head completely spinning. So I got a haircut today at Aveda and chopped a good 3 inches off, and then got a 30 minute massage. It really eased my nerves. But it got me thinking, if I need a weekly massage just to handle my job, how much of my salary is going towards this? If I need a haircut every time I feel stressed out, what that about?!

I also need to purchase appropriate apparel to wear to my tacky ass job, but I sure as hell don't want to be decked out in Bebe Sport all the time.

How's my job? Well, aside from the fact that it's a shitty commission-based retail job that loops the same horrible club-mix over and over... and the main customers are socially retarded XSmall-wearing Asian ladies, I'd say it's pretty tight. 

I hope things get a bit more manageable, my face is falling off and my nails are chipped and my eyes are cloudy. 

And I will probably not be using spell check ever, or proofreading, because that is for the mentally self-conscious! Or just mentally conscious.