Things I Want to Happen (That Never Will)

The title says it all. I’m a pretty big daydreamer, and even I grudgingly accept that some of my best fantasies will never come to fruition. But there is just SO MUCH STUFF I want to happen, I guess some of it’s bound to be impossible. Like…

Having sex with Cry Baby-era Johnny Depp. Yes, the man is like a fine wine that gets better with age, but dude is still OLD now! Oh, how I wish I had a time machine to waste on twenty-six-year-old Johnny.

Winning fifty billion dollars. Or inheriting it, I’m not picky. See, while some optimists might say this isn’t impossible, let’s be real–I don’t play the lotto, I don’t know of any rich relatives, and even if I did magically get a windfall of cash (pleasepleaseplease), it would never be that much. Fifty billion is “throw out scuffed Jimmy Choos” rich.

Being French. You can’t change genetics, and while I’d never toss away my own face and blonde hair on some weird French nose and mousy brown locks, I would die for the accent and access to tried-and-true beauty secrets (those French hold out in interviews, I swear–I’ve read French Women Don’t Get Fat, and I think there’s more to the story then they’re letting on).

Having an amazing talent. I am not without my skills, but I am not “the best” at anything. Wouldn’t it be cool to be, even if it was something dumb?

Being an amazing cook. I guess this is similar to the previous one, except I don’t want to be the best cook, or even halfway best, just pretty good. It will never happen. Never. I hate cooking, and I will always hate cooking, which is why literally every meal I eat has under 5 ingredients (never underestimate the stimulating powers of chili powder, lemon juice, lettuce, bottled sauces, and butter).

Seeing every country in the world. I started to write “every cool place in the world,” but I refuse to put that on a list of things that will never happen, because it’s one of my life goals, damn it! But it’s crazy to me how we live on a big frosty marble and don’t save the money or make the time to leave our tiny portion of it. Brasil, people? Ireland? Have you seen pictures of Greece? I’d even go to Antarctica, just to say I have.

To be honest, this list is starting to get a little depressing, since I want all these things and I feel like I’m condemning them to impossibility, so I’ll cut it short. And if a young Depp knocks on my door, I’ll take it as a sign from the universe that there’s still hope on that 50 bil.

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A Work of Living

Jobs are a bleak dreary horrible thing. If you are some kind of freak who likes their job, then you can just go sit in the corner with some construction paper and scissors and cut yourself some confetti. Otherwise, you are probably a normal person who wants to die for 8 hours a day.

Cats make the wanting-to-die thing a little better.

Do you know that movie The Island, where everyone lives on a secret hippie commune island and they all pitch in for food and shelter and get to live in a beautiful paradise together? That is what life should be. Instead, people work all day to survive, but they are wasting their lives at work. It’s a paradox, or a circle, or something smart-sounding: you work to make money –> you make money to enjoy life –> you can’t enjoy life because you’re working.

But what if you could have any job ever? What would you be? I never really gave this any thought because the obvious answer is “independently wealthy.” I am not at all ashamed to admit that I would gladly sit around and shop and drink tea and travel to exotic places and do nothing of value to society if I had the G’s. But if I had to have a dream job not titled “rich bitch,” I’ve figured out what I would be.

  1. A stylist. You get to shop for a living. And hang out with celebrities. And if you hated them and they were obnoxious and self-absorbed, you could put them in something hideous and call it “cutting edge.”
  2. A magazine editor. You get to put together a book full of shopping ideas. Plus, you get to make Anne Hathaway do your bidding, and I don’t care for her so I would make her do stupid things like fetch me lattes whilst on a unicycle.
  3. A museum curator. You get to shop for art for a living. And, you can help up-and-coming artists become the next Andy Warhol but less creepy and rude.
  4. An artist. I can’t think of a quip for this one because I would absolutely love making art for a living.
  5. A blogger, which if you get paid for it, is just like being independently wealthy while taking lots of pictures. (Hey there WordPress, wanna pay me?)

Rich and famous people always say you should “be what you love” and all that shit, and I am for chasing your dreams like a My Pretty Pony prancing through a field of daises, but in my opinion that only applies if you love garbage removal or difficult math. “I love to shop” doesn’t exactly translate into a stellar job.

So, the best I can hope for is the zombie apocalypse (totally not influenced by The Walking Dead playing in the background right now) so that I can steal all the clothes I want from abandoned malls and then go live in some former stylist’s mansion.

My Future Pet

Meet my future pet.

Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?

Pickle Sleep Huh What?

I am so tired that I can’t even function. I am just a ball of string bouncing along. I feel like my head is a fishbowl full of words that are just clanking around nonsensically. Jogoblin neehow plus! That really seems like a sentence right now.

Why am I even on here, instead of sleeping? Oh yeah, responsibilities. I hate those naughty naughty things.

Biddies, GET OUT OF MY BED SO I CAN SLEEP.

Raging Narcissism (or, 10 Facts About Me)

Sometimes, I like to write about topics and things that are actually interesting to other people (like sexy hairy dudes and shoe porn). And sometimes, I just like to ramble on about myself to the enjoyment of no one. But it’s my blog, so nah nah nah, I do what I want. Now here are ten facts that you do not care about at all.

  1. I love Nutella.
  2. I am a little bit in love with Miss Mosh, an alt and fetish model. I’ve always had a thing for lace and garters and latex, and Mosh wears them so well. (On that note, here’s 2 ½: A photographer friend of mine and I might take some fetish-y pictures. Rawr. Now if I only had Mosh’s silver-white hair…please, I’m working on it.)
  3. Healthy drinks are my jam. Odwalla and Vitamin Water and Pom and Fuze. Especially Pom. Mmm.
  4. I have one tattoo, but I want more.
  5. I used to hate soup, but now I really like it. Blame Au Bon Pain. (Curried Rice and Lentil is my favorite.)
  6. I believe in sex on the first date.
  7. I have really, really, really vivid crazy dreams. Every night. Most of them are kind of nightmare-esque and when I wake up, I’m like, “What the fuck?” but in the dreams I am usually not afraid. Last night, I dreamt I was trapped in a room full of doors, and later my jaw was skeletal and fell off. There was also a fire mountain monster, but I can’t even explain it.
  8. People always tell me I am unqiue- or exotic-looking. Considering I am white and blonde-haired and blue-eyed, I take it as a compliment.
  9. I love to roller-skate.
  10. I like writing this blog, but sometimes I run out of good ideas so I just talk about myself.