Converted Pastafarian: Hail, all ye Xenu subscribers, Jesus bashing is officially passe. Cast away your Christ Was A Pedophile t-shirt's and burn them like the suffragette shackles of yesterday! The poor, defenseless Christians have done SO LITTLE to deserve your persecution. No, no. Cease your mocking laughter! I have embraced the awesome Power of ( Read more... )

Los Angeles. No matter how many times I fly into this state, no matter how many friends of mine live here, there's something about it that always seems to prevent it from feeling like a proper home. If home is where your heart is then I suppose I'm up shit's creek without a paddle. Care to toss one over my way so I might be able to wade out without ( Read more... )

Apparently hide and seek is not to be played past age 9.

Despite the grand amount of time I spend lurking, I have cautiously approached the vast world of what we call AIM, albeit at odd hours of the evening and day perhaps subconciously to be able I can tell myself I made the effort, it was just that noone else seemed to be about ( Read more... )

Amusing it is to think of life as one huge fucking contradiction, a constant catch 22, a never ending labyrinth of puzzle pieces that just never seem to fit together. I've spent the greater majority of my life finding ways to evade said issue, craftily conducting hidden passages that helped me escape from any type of controversy that had its way of ( Read more... )

Post Prison Outbreak-like Brawl at the Vanilla Ice concert, I took a short respite from oddity to discreetly tranquilize The Wounds Acquired. During this downtime, there was ample opportunity to tackle a much-loathed obligation of being a member of a community: grazing the Friends Page. Annoyance and frustration. Mais Pourquoi? I soul searched. I ( Read more... )

New York, June 6th: By the Lack of Devil, I am empowered to instate my own post-feminism revolution. I, Christina "Funky Hill Fat Bottom" Ricci, will discontinue the mutilation of my face. No longer will I suffer the injustice of appeasing the current dernier cri. Today is my independence day. All tweezing objects have been discarded and replaced ( Read more... )

New York, May 15th: Abandoned were my hopes of becoming a world renowned narcotics internuncio after an unfortunate altercation with an Upper West Side drug lord who, apparently, caught wind of my dabbling in other-occupational professions through a friend of a friend of a friend. I was sent the mutilated bust of a cellulose equus caballus via bike ( Read more... )

Los Angeles to Pittsburgh. I had the immense pleasure of attending the celebration of Ville Valo’s birth where he was kind enough to fix me endless tumblers of absinthe, flamed and iced. The cannabis love was spread with somewhat ulterior motives. Ryder and I wish to set up a decent clientele. Transformed, I became Pusher at the Bar sliding free ( Read more... )

New York to Finland. Hunting is difficult in stilettos but impaling the ground with their spiked heels will help you keep your balance against the reverb of a large rifle. It takes two shots to the kidney to kill a large moose, an hour of sawing to remove the antlers and ten minutes to make them into a stylish hat. Be prepared to achieve perfekt ( Read more... )