Friday, May 27, 2011

You Can Werk The Blue Book and Still Wreck Havoc

For some reason people thought I was kidding when I said I achieved a 3.9 GPA this semester. So let me just say I'm living proof you can be a good student and a slutty vamping street harlot. I don't know why people thought I wasn't serious, but it did provoke some abysmal thoughts.

What's wrong with having your nose in a book, yet still have the time to hang out with your fabulous cohorts and drink yourselves down to a 5th grade reading level? I don't know why people feel limited to pick one thing over another. No one should cockblock you to the path of greatness and limitlessness. There is nothing wrong with dressing like a badass motherfucker and kneeling in church to pray. No one decreed that if I listen to pop music, I can't listen to heavy metal. My iTunes is so diverse it looks like a UN Summit. Just because I'm a gay man doesn't mean I have to worship the pop divas. I love my 80's hair metal. Filthy rockstars that encourage naughty behavior are my idols. I can like Coke while enjoying Pepsi. I'm preaching that the way you choose to live your life is an amalgamation of whatever you fancy and that you shouldn't let society or anyone dictate how you should feel or act. When you go to Cold Stone, you pick out what toppings you want on your ice cream, no matter how bizarre the combo may seem to everyone else. You can flex yourself to any corner of life. You're your own Rubik's Cube.

So that is the Greg Winfrey preach session for the day. I worked my fucking tits off for those A's. And the only people I want to credit to my success are my boyfriend Johnnie Walker and myself.  So I'm content. If I can land a job before I move to Mansluttan I'll be happy.

I still haven't caught up on sleep, but I will say it's GLORIOUS to sleep in peace without hearing your neighbor getting banged like a screen door in a hurricane night after night. Thank you, peaceful suburbia.

PSA: My NYC leather bearing fellow vamps or anyone that harbors knowledge of this, where can I get a leather vest like this for cheap?

Basically any place that Judas Priest would shop, is where I want to shop. Much appreciated. LOVE YOU ALL. 

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Everyone In High School Had the Right Idea When They Chose Not to Date Me


Culinary glamour

So, the New Jersey chronicles continue. At least the people here spur really good Twitter/Facebook material. Boundless entertainment. I really no idea what to do with myself besides blog and continue my crusade for a studded punk vest. So thrifting is in the forecast. If anyone knows of any decent places to find heroin addict apparel please contact me.

Being home is so surreal. I can't even believe I'm in my third year of college. Time to start making a list of nursing homes! Living in New York feels like I'm in a inscrutable time vortex enshrouded with homework, hooker blood, and aberrant fashion compared to New Jersey. I'm used to living in a fast-paced environment. I like to stay focused and execute whatever task is at hand promptly, and coming home feels like I'm walking through caramel. It's so weird to see how many people haven't changed, when I feel like I've upgraded more than iTunes does in a month. And it feels great.

The Burger Pauper Queen

The most amusing thing is going out and running errands. I love coming into a store and getting stared at like I'm some whimsical fellow who just walked out of Narnia the crackwhore edition. There's also something magical about paying for your meals in neon blue tight pants and grenade-combed hair. I feel like it's foreshadowing the next 10 years of my life. It's a smorgasbord of fabulous. 

It's also easy to see, the people of Walmart will never own intellectual property. One can't even fathom the magnitude of discomfort I felt today when sandwiched between a cashier with the mental capacity of a jar of pickles and a customer schizophrenically recounting her incidents involving her lactose intolerance. I'm pretty sure this woman was so lactose intolerant that the melody of a nearby ice cream truck would have her on the floor. Moral of the story: refrain from going to Walmart as much as possible. 

So stay tuned for more tri-state debauchery. I'm going to go touch myself till I pass out nap.