Forgive Me.

I promise I'll be back guys; until then, here's what's been occupying my life as of late.

If you don't already know, I'm involved in the black-market sex trade via Polynesian dancing ... HAHA! Kidding, of course. I dance nightly for tourists of all sorts. These past few months have taken so much out of me. For one, the show is new, and it's so physically demanding, I barely have time to get a drink of water during the transition of numbers. It's okay though because I love it too much to complain.



Does anybody know how to heal a broken heart? Believe it or not, I've let this boy control my mental existence for months now. More on this wretched topic in another post.

Besides dancing and the gaping hole in my chest, I started a new job at a pretty amazing spa located at the same hotel housing my job as a dancer. It's pretty basic stuff--the front desk sort of thing. Otherwise, I MISS YOU ALL. I'm so out of the fashion loop it's not even funny. I didn't even follow last season (I'm horrible!). My jobs have seized my time for now, but hopefully I find a loophole. Don't give up on me guys :/

<3
Jey

Totally.

Hey girls.

No I haven't perished in the fires of hell; I've just been INCREDIBLY busy with work and work and WORK! Ughh I always say I'm a damn slave to labor because well, I frickin' am. On my days off, all I want to do is sleep, because when you deal with bitchy hungry people, you need as much time to recuperate from the mental damages they sometimes inflict in you.

I also haven't really bought anything spectacularly amazing, so my laughable wadrobe is pretty undeserving of an outfit post these days. But you shall not worry -- I eyed some metallic chiffon at the fabric shop a while back and I'm thinking about having my seamstress whip up a shirt for me which hopefully will turn out fabulous. Dior? Customary Filipino apparel?

toodles.
<3

Postal.

Obviously Post Offices have the best lighting, especially at 11PM. My bottoms are a pair of spandex under....ermmm undergarments my dad left for me while he was here for R&R. At first, I was like WHAT INNAH HELL? Then I realized that I could totally claim them as 'bicycle shorts' which counteracted my initial disgust for them. Fun!

Usually I avoid everything in the political spectrum for personal reasons, but our Youth Congress drafted a bill to legalize civil unions between same-sex couples who have been on Guam for more than five years, and the bill has already been passed on to the legislature with a strong supportive backbone from a couple of senators. The public is following this political endeavor avidly and heavily opinionated letters have already been submitted to the local newspaper, at the sight of which I respond with complete laughter. The things people can come up with astounds me. ASTOUNDS ME! All I have to say is that it's about damn time this place recognizes a community which clothes oily backs and sagging deflated breasts.

<3>

Petty Pryer for 500 please.

I need to stand on my soapbox for a couple of sentences. I was out with a friend a week ago and something petty but sufficiently childish happened at the tail-end of our alcohol-induced night. When my sobriety is flung out of the window with an unsure amount in ounces of tokyo teas, I tend to get pretty affectionate with whomever accompanies me during said alcohol consumption. So my friend whom I have known since I was a child was with me this particular night, and since my usually stiff demeanor was pervaded by liquor causing me to become flimsy, I resorted to what I like to call the infamous one-arm shoulder hang at which I am apparently skilled. Anyway, I was hanging on my friend for what seemed like the rest of the drunken night until he shows me a text message his boyfriend sends him saying he recieved a text from an anonymous source. From the grace of all that is sober, this is what my memory can gather:

Why is somebody sending me a text saying that you're with some guy and you two are all cuddly?

Oh, yes dear readers. Some tragic clubkid pulled a stunt from The Hills, and I am not havin' it. Here's what I have to say: If you have the audacity to be vindictive and then proceed to hide behind your little cellphone screen, the least you can do, well for yourself anyway, is grow a set and be a real bitch about it. Come up to me and say you're a nosy friend of a friend and interrogate me. Even if my relationship with my friend is none of your fucking business, make it your business since you already decided to play phone spy regarding a situation completely irrelevant to your intentions for going out that night in the first place.

Good. So it's settled. So you can shave your back now. Bye Jason.


This picture is completely irrelevant to the content of this post. Just a little mirror cam'whoring with my favorite fashionista.

Aside from that dispensable debacle, I had a great time with a great friend, and all I can do now is laugh at the depths that people will go for entertainment.

Oh and that thing about Alber Elbaz for Target was my attempt at a little APRIL FOOLS fun. Sorry if you were genuinely excited, haha.

<3

Stumble.

The expanse of my vocabulary isn't so spectacular, but the closest word I can think of to describe myself at present day is melancholy. I feel like I'm at a standstill, and sadly this isn't the first time I have felt like this. It's continuously recurring, and I have yet to find a remedy to climb out of this black hole. I really wish I was a naturally chipper person regardless of the horrible influences in circumference of me, but I'd rather be flesh than plastic. I apologize if this is such a boner-kill for anyone reading; bare with me while I search for the spring in my step.

Moving on. I wore this last night to go out, and before I walked into the club, one of the drags mingling outside said, "LOVE the outfit." Haha I always feel validated when a drag queen comments on my style.


(Royal Bics bow-tie, Bench shirt, thrifted biker jacket, K-Mart belt, Ross pants, thrifted shoes.)

Dilapidated .

(Reggie's glasses, studded cross V-neck, FTL long johns, thrifted BDU boots, faux-tortoise bracelet, rosary bracelet, & F21 snake-chain necklace as bracelet)

Is it just me, or do any of you (drivers) evolve into vehicular terrorists when other drivers make it a point to be dirty chocolate starfishes on the road? Things that I WILL NOT TOLERATE on asphalt:

• People who drive at 30 MPH in a 45 MPH zone, especially on the left lane
• Slow MFers period
  
• Drivers over 50 years old
• Overconfident pedestrians
• People on their cellphones while driving
• Bass speakers blasted at an obnoxious volume
• Drivers under 18
• Drivers in busted up pick-ups trying to race you when the light turns green
• Drivers who don't signal (I will sooo honk at you!)
• Drivers with their brights on at night (This happens to be a high-ranking pet-peeve as well)
• Double-parkers
• NO PARKING ZONE parkers
• Busses/Trucks/Rigs in turning lanes
• Drivers who ride my tail (It's called brake check, & don't think I won't use it.)
  

I mean, I'm no speedster but c'mon guys, drive with the flow of traffic. I feel considerably bitchy today for personal reasons, and I apologize for it's obvious appearance in my tone of voice. I seriously need to learn how to brush off vindictive acts from people with whom I have absolutely no association.

On a lighter note, I was pretty stoked when I threw on my studded t-shirt today, except I don't remember it being so heavy. I might have to get accustomed to the jingling though. I remember telling myself a couple of months back, "I will not succumb to this laughable drop-crotch trend," but oh what powers a suspended crotch hold. I already have an idea to cut my own patterns and just have a seamstress sew the pieces together. Half-baked ideas, anyone?

The Saga Continues.

It seems as if humanity refuses me integration into this world. I thought my rantings on exceptionally rude people were over, but that appears to be untrue.

Yesterday my mom and I were out shopping for things for my dad, and our first stop was our post's exchange. For you non-military folk out there, an exchange is basically our puny version for the civilian Wal*Mart. Anyway, as my mom and I were scanning through shelves of mounted portable DVD players, some woman thinks it's okay to walk up perfectly to my right side, her arms brushed up against mine, proceeds to reach her left hand carelessly to a tag on the shelf which is directly in front of me while my face is behind her elbow. At this point I'm thinking she's about to get tackled any minute now, but I forfeit these thoughts as I probably would have caused my mom distress. She continues to stand at this uncomfortable distance beside me, and I sure as hell do as well. My mom is to my left and obviously notices this, she slightly tugs my cardigan motioning me to move out of the way, to which I responded very loudly, "What? I'm looking too." The damn woman continues to stand there like a negligent jezebel and my mom advances her motions to rid me of this situation as she grabs my arm to whisk me away. In my first steps to start walking, I turned around to the lady and intended for my mom, "You know, SHE could say excuse me." Ugh people these days.

And because I am obviously a target for being incessantly accosted, an interaction at my doorstep didn't go so well. I answered the door to an aggressive knock followed seconds after by four doorbell rings. There stood an old man with a very stern look on his face and a clipboard in his hand. From my recollections, here's how the conversation went:

Me: "Hello, sir."
Homeboy: "Hi are your parents home?"
Me: "My mom is."
Homeboy: "Okay can you get her?"

I adjust to close the door and then stop. He looks up as if I was lacking in chromosomes.

Me: "Sorry, what's your name?"
Homeboy: "Joe."
Me: "From where?"
Homeboy: Sarcastically, "Not from anywhere."

So at his last words I swing the door shut in his face, stomp to the foot of the stairs, and yell out to my mom that there is a rude man named Joe downstairs who would like to speak to her. Okay, I know it sounds like I'm being melodramatic in all of this, but I guess all I can say is the picture is more vivid and legitimate in person. I'm not being unreasonably frivolous. I'm not acting like there is someone out to get me. And I will not succumb to any deficit of kindness. This generation of humanity perpetuates a devalue in character by the lack of congeniality between people within social interactions. I mean, why is it so wrong for complete strangers to be genuine and cordial? Tell me because I am otherwise convinced that my future is doomed.

In other news, I found this at The Selby, and he/she is currently melting my heart.

Shine.

For sushi with my brothers.

Well I had an eventful Thanksgiving. Not really. I spent most of my time preparing the meal with my mom after which I devoured my plentiful portions of moist turkey, mashed potatoes, red rice and corn.

I was watching The View yesterday and one of the ladies mentioned that people on either side of the shopping counter tend to get increasingly bitchy towards Christmas, which is very true in my experiences. Before sushi yesterday, my sibs and I stopped by Radioshack to pick up a memory card for my dad's camera. In short, a sales associated managed to bark information to me over the volume set by shoppers and their personal conversations. I'm not asking for a damn Saks shopping experience but tend to every shopper as you would want to be tended to.

And as if this debochal wasn't enough to inaugurate my day, homegirl at the sushi place dared to use the this is my first day so please be patient with me excuse on us, which I think is an example of weak character and more importantly, incompetence. To which I responded audibly "Don't tell me how to dine especially when I come into YOUR restaurant." We were honestly cordial in our interactions until she spat such a lame refutation. Whatever.

At any rate, not much is going on in my sphere of life. It is an exceptionally foggy day that definitely sets the mood for the weekend, though I thought I should share. I do plan on compiling a list of my pet-peeves. That should be fun.

=]

Quarantined.

*Disregard my facial expressions in the photos. I was mid-air in the first, and constipated in the second. HA! Only kidding.

Tonight, after initial decline, I watched a movie with my sister and a couple of cool cats including a ferociously-dressed Lauren and her husband John. I am honestly opposed to public outings especially at night, and it's because I'm severely timid amongst crowds of people. Though I figured since it was Friday night, I'd tag along. I thought it was impossible to compact cackling induced scenes then shrieking induced scenes into a single movie, back and forth nonetheless. But I guess the movie Quarantine proved me wrong. Nevermind the obnoxiously loud row of hoodlums behind us and the attention-seeking gob of ignorance to our right (who, by the way, stood up at one point in the movie with his hands raised as if the characters pixelated onscreen could reciprocate his gesture), because I couldn't stop myself from yelling or laughing amidst the volume of everyone else. If you do intend on seeing it, it's quite graphic and filmed entirely by the cameraman in the movie, so it's pretty hard to keep focused.

Anyway, I did almost have a bitch fit when the movie ended. As we were getting up to leave, a girl in front of us dropped her cup of slush which splattered onto everything and everyone around her, including my jeans and my wrists, but I kind of just mumbled something to myself and got up to leave. I laughed as I was walking out with my sister because I remembered that when she dropped the cup, most of the slush became close friends with her face, so that justified my decision to pull back and not verbally harass the poor girl. A cold facial was punishment enough.