YouTube - OH GOD! Ugly ass DRAG QUEENZ!!!.

bjane.jpg (235×275).

9 glass of red wine + some beer = drunk Eugene

Its been so long since I smell vomit. The whole car, my jacket, my hair, reeks of vomit. Eugene puke and puke. I was rather worried that he is going to get the mess all over me. Haha. Sorry little brother. But you see, vomit stinks! We wanted to buckle Eugene properly but he kept taking off the seat belt himself. And he SMASH left and right whenever TL makes a sharp turn. I was so worried he is gonna puke a second round, cause there is no more bags for him to puke in. He kept telling me that he wished Manda was there with him at his cousin’s wedding, I know how he feels. Got him safely home.

I love the night sky.. so pretty..

me.me.me in cap & hoodies

the pretty henderson wave bridge @ night!

me w/o flash

sentosa merlion at night! the evil merlion!!!! =X

city lights @ orchard.. prettyyy

I am going prawning and fishing with hunney bunny and his family tomorrow. May be meeting ron tomorrow to celebrate his belated 20th birthday. More pictures tomorrow. Happy Hari Raya people! I love public holidays!

P/s: Eugene if you are reading this, you kept hitting my shoulder and wailing for Manda! Zz. PAIN LA! Talk about me slapping you. OMG you are hitting me. Zz.

Pp/s: I am addicted to tic tock by kesha. I love it when this song comes on!!

I have to get up stupid early in order to go to work.

I get a train from my station at 0602 in order to get to Shinjuku and catch the Chuo rapid headed toward Kabe at 0633. Normally it is mildly crowded, all seats are taken, and some people are left standing. One thing that is constant however is the stone cold silence and in the early morning I am pretty certain this is something we all appreciate.

This morning however this was stolen away….I saw the culprits reach the platform almost as the train was pulling in. They went from line to line until for whatever horrid reason they stopped behind me giggling and jabbering away like school girls on crank. Two then dashed over to the Kiosk and bought “Calpis”, whatever the fuck that is, some kind of liquid in a bottle that frankly seems to have the consistency of ok…use your imagination: think “facial”, and dashed back just in the nick of time to board the train with yours truly.

I got on first and took a seat near the door. This is when I got my first good look at them. Four girls, all early twenties, 23 at most, and, had clearly been out all night and had spent that night drinking, alot. Cheaply dyed blond hair was badly frazzled and eyes were beat up and looked horribly tired. Makeup looked stale and old. Body language was slow, uncoordinated and messy and along with all of this traveled the smell of both Alcohol and something else…maybe it was Kimchi? Fried meat? Someone stepped in shit? I had no idea and I still am clueless.

Two of them plopped down on the bench next to me and the other two stumbled, then teeter tottered until they fell down onto the bench across from me. It was quite a site to behold. The train car was now full and everyone was quiet like corpses except for these four clucking and sputtering and talking like four Yakuza guys playing cards. If you have been in Japan for a while you would know what I mean. Lots of “Omae”s and “Maji Suge”s and “Fuzakena”s etc. All the while laughing it up because clearly, this was high comedy. Oddly, nobody else seemed to “get” the joke.

The girl across from me, both of them actually were dressed very similar. Both were petite and wearing heels, black tights with booty short jean cut offs over them and equally colorful and silly tops, one of them sporting a jacket that I initially thought to be a life preserver and the other wearing mid drift tan leather that could or could not be a “coat”. I think I saw a character wearing something like it in “Mad Max: Beyond thunder Dome”. High Fashion.

Both of them sat with their legs fully sprawled out and open and were gesticulating wildly recapping an event with another friend who apparently, became so drunk she passed out in a pool of her own urine, face first, after she urinated on the street, in Shibuya. Fascinating.
I was thinking “High class”.
I was thinking “My type”.
The older people on the train took turns, as if they had all worked out a schedule, giving these girls looks so full of disdain I actually checked my tie and sat up straight, my close proximity to these four putting me in the line of fire.

At Nakano station a man sitting next to the one across from me got up and de-boarded and the girl then took this opportunity to pass out and she fully did this, collapsing across the briefly open seat in dramatic, face first fashion. The old woman who had been making her move on the seat stopped in mid stride and simply did an about face and strode off. Clearly she was impressed with these examples of Japanese youth.

The three girls that were still conscious then began taking photos of the girl lying prostrate on the bench, first of her face, then taking photos of her whole profile, then the girl next to her, I swear to god: started taking photos of her crotch which was turned up facing her as she was laying on her side (not a bad back side if I might put forth this observation but…anyway). Thank god the girl, her friend, had jean shorts on. Then one of the friends on my side tossed her a “Calpis” bottle, about the size of a 20 ounce coke bottle and the one taking the crotch shots began pushing it against the girls jeans (vaginal region here folks) and they all were cackling uncontrollably and one of them was taking video with her phone and the one doing the dry humping with a bottle said in a great mockery of a dirty old man voice “Dou da? Koko ga? Kimochi desyou?” or “Hows this baby? You like it here? Feels good right?”
And at this point I finally lost my shit and began laughing.

I really tried not to but come on…this was getting way out of hand. My snicker apparently spurred the closet case Lesbo on because she got more animated, for about 30 seconds (god knows what she had planned next..sure…I was/am curious), until the passed out friend suddenly came to life covering her mouth and gesturing wildly. A friend lurched across the car and pushed a plastic bag, likely the one the “calpis” came in into her hands just in time for her to launch a very impressive flow of vomit into the bag. Not once, not twice…but three solid purging’s. Well Done.

The best part is…THEY DID NOT GET OFF THE TRAIN.

Despite what I can only describe as a heavy feeling of total and intense loathing coming from everyone, even me as the vomit smell wasn’t working for me at 0700, they stayed in their seats and got off the train one at a time as various stations came up. By the time my station arrived, the only one left was Puke bag girl, her eyes half open, her head leaning against the side board of the bench, drool leaking from her mouth like some ominous icicle and vomit on her black life preserver coat, her legs hanging as wide open as physically possible in that posture, her bag of goodies had been tied to her wrist by I’m guessing, her friend. Her friends had totally left her to “make it home safe and sound”.
With friends like….right?

I am not here to judge. God knows I have done or been witness to some of us (gaijin) doing some pretty stupid, vapid and just ignorant shit over the years….but come on….On Thursday morning????

Part of me still hopes she got home, wherever in hell that is, ok.

Pentru orice marinar exista o femeie sa-i satisfaca imaginatia si visele umede in noptile lungi si multe petrecute in singuratate pe mare.

I'd prefer it this way

or rock it this way

I was bloghopping yesterday, my brain munching up visual grubs of fashion delectables.Page after page it was sweet, oh, too sweet, sweet sour, oh spicy!  spicy HOT! But one picture had me holding back vomit. A beautiful Christopher Kane Croc T-Shirt blasphemed with hideous cropped jean shorts, overboard accesorizing, bed hair which litteraly looked like she just got out of bed and crazy red lipstick that should have been left for those who can actually pull it off (unfortunately I’m not one of them). I am saddened that such a beautiful piece of artwork has been scandalized as such. A t-shirt with such grandeur should be worn simple. Its already a visual treat by itself, going overboard leaves it a bit too sweet close as to make you hurl. But yeah, fashion …. is subjective. Hence me holding it all in.

Side note, I know I have the CKane Baboon/Gorilla shirt in as well. I know.

To Mr. Kevin Brown,

My name is Ilsa Vega from South Jersey who has been blessed with two beautiful granddaughters. I would like to share with you my youngest granddaughter, who is two months old, amazing story.

My granddaughter, who was born in June of 2009, had the opportunity of being breast feed for only a few weeks due to her mother having complications.

My beautiful granddaughter was immediately introduced to the conventional formula (Lipil). I immediately started to see a transformation in a negative way. The baby started to have an awful greenish diarrhea with mucus. She became dehydrated and her skin became yellowish gray in color. She was also vomiting with full force projecting across the bed. The baby’s cry touched my soul. I never saw anything like this. I recall having my son who is now 31 years old, having similar symptoms, I trusted in his doctor and thinking my baby was safe, but now I see that I was wrong.

When my granddaughter was taken to her doctor’s visit, the doctor encouraged my son and daughter-in-law to continue feeding the baby formula, even when telling him about her symptoms. This time he ordered (Similac Soy). The outcome was even worse. The baby broke out in hives; her vomit and diarrhea were frequent. Her constant crying showed the signs of pain and distress. I was devastated that the doctors concern was zero to none for the baby. The interest was more for his payment then the life and well being of my granddaughter.

As a concern grandparent, I immediately started to do my research through the internet. I prayed that my Lord would enlighten me with information to save my granddaughter. The search was over, I was blessed in finding the Weston A. Price Foundation (Sally Fallon) and The Liberation Diet by Kevin Brown which had all the information I needed to save my granddaughter.

I immediately shared this information with my son and daughter in-law who were some-what reluctant and caught between natural remedies and the conventional life style which they were used too. I did not stop in provided them with information and sharing stories of natural results. They became attentive with my information. It only takes to plant the seed and knowledge will grow which will lead to taking actions to save a child. My son and daughter in-law decided to go with the natural remedies to feed the baby. In less than four days, the baby came back to its original state by not crying, vomiting or having diarrhea. Her color was a beautiful rosy pink. We were proud with the results.

Again my son and daughter in-law took the baby for the second visit with the Pediatrician. My son and daughter in-law who were proud of the results shared them with the doctor who to their surprise, became furious, irate and refused to listen to my son. He reprimanded my son and immediately arranged for three more vaccinations for the baby!

The doctor then left the room, came back with a can of formula and insisted that they feed the baby with it. My son was devastated and most of all hurt with the treatment his baby and he received from this conventional doctor who only cared for himself. Upon arriving home, my son and daughter in-law trashed the formula because that is what they felt, that it was trash being fed to babies.

Crying with happiness, my son, daughter in-law and I, decided to go full steam ahead with the Foundations formula and no more vaccinations for now. Today, the baby will be reaching her third month and has a beautiful radiant look and happy gestures with no side effects.

Ms. Sally Fallon and Mr. Kevin Brown, I thank my Lord and you from the bottom of our hearts for believing in natural remedies and sharing the finding with us. I hope that our story will encourage others to take action like we did to save our children. Words cannot express how we are feeling with our accomplishments with your help. May your dedication and motivation in spreading the word of your natural findings, reach all those who are willing to make a change in the direction they are leading their children and their lives.

This is a matter of Life or Death, you choose.

Sincerely,

Ilsa Vega and Family



So…

Chief is known to get the munchies early in the morning. We all know WHY he gets the munchies so lecturing him on laying off the chocolate or how diabetes runs in his family and his sugar is probably in the 40,000 range means nothing.

And because we all know why he gets the munchies, I told him that he had to keep his munchie-stash out of the kitchen. There is NO reasons for the kids to get the munchies other then their kids and munch. So if we want to prevent Spaz from getting so big that he can’t fit through the door, then the candy and the cookies and the mini pies can’t be in their reach.

So Chief keeps them in his night table drawer.

Yesterday, our really cool vendor that gives us really cool stuff at a really cool.. ridiculously low price delivered about four cases of Keebler Peanut Butter Chunk Chocolate Chip cookies.

I swear that Chief’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body quivered like a rookie actress in one of those low low low budgeted porno flicks. So I rolled my eyes “FINE” and grabbed a pack for home.

I smuggled them into the bedroom before the kids could see them and promptly forgot about them.

I’m not a cookie / cake / pie / ice cream person so once they left my hands they also left my conscienceness.

Fast forward to this morning.

Chief usually wakes up first :: rather, I usually kick him awake because he NEVER hears the alarm :: .. gets dressed.. takes the dogs out.. and promptly gives them a treat when they come back in.

Then he wakes me up.. leaves for work.. and I spend the next 20 minutes yelling at the dogs that are weaving themselves in and out of my legs that NO MORE! ALL GONE! GO LAY DOWN! JESUS CHRIST YOU ALREADY HAD A TREAT!

The funny thing is, Bella knows what the word “treat” is so when I say it, she tries to get up on her hind legs and dance in circles but she’s too fat and usually just tips over like a weeble.. all the while making this WHOO WHOO WHOO sound.

So the whole cycle starts all over again..

Anyway.. THIS morning, they kept on prancing around the night table. I didn’t think anything about it because in between yelling at them, I’m yelling at Bubba to get his ass out of bed and doing some serious clock watching.

He finally gets up .. I wake up Spaz.. We leave.. I return.. Walk into my bedroom and what do I find?

The night stand drawer is open.. the wrapper from the cookie package is shredded on the bedroom rug so it looked like a tinsel factory exploded and there’s and the empty plastic tray that USUALLY holds cookies is sticking out of the drawer.

Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy IMMEDIATELY dives under the bed for cover. Bella TRIES to do something but she’s too wide so she basically attempts to put the Sad-Dog face on and telepathically convince me that is was ALL ERNIE.. even though she had crumbs stuck to the fur under her chin.

So.. taking a deep breath.. I call Chief

ME: Hey.. um.. yknow those cookies I brought home last night?

CHIEF: Yea..

ME: You had them in your nightstand, didn’t you?

CHIEF: Whhhyyyy????

ME: You had them there, right?

CHIEF: Ok

ME: OMG! I’m not accusing you of anything I’m only asking if that’s where they were

CHIEF: Well, I don’t know.. I hate when you ask me questions that you already know the answers to because it’s like you’re going to holler at me or something

ME: I DO NOT!

CHIEF: Yes you do.. you get all like “Uh huh” “Uh huh” “yea, right”

ME: Tsk! Whatever.. that’s not the point.

CHIEF: Then what is the point? That I can’t keep stuff in my night table?

ME: THE DOGS GOT INTO YOUR NIGHT TABLE AND ATE ALL YOUR COOKIES

CHIEF: What?

ME: You didn’t hear me?

CHIEF: No. . I heard you but I had the drawer closed. They actually opened the drawer?

ME: Yep.. the knobs are loose

CHIEF: OMG.. they actually opened the drawer. It was Ernie, right? Ernie did it? I guess so because Bella’s teeth would probably fall out

ME: I doesn’t matter which one did it.. THEY ATE A WHOLE THING OF COOKIES

CHIEF: Um. It wasn’t a whole pack. We were up at 2:30 eating them.

ME: We?

CHIEF: Um.. yeeaaaa.. me and the dogs

ME: Oh my fucking God. You ate cookies WITH them.

CHIEF: So that would explain it…

ME: Well.. you can do all that explaining when you have to clean up all the diarrhea and vomit that’s sure to happen.

CHIEF: They’ll be fine

ME: Yeeaahhh… guess you forgot about the time they ate a whole case of Reese cups huh?

CHIEF: shit

ME: Exactly

Someone recently made mention on my Facebook wall about having to take the senior test at 7:30 AM on a Saturday morning up at Truman State University. This brought back painful flashbacks of my experience with the PRAXIS exam, at the same time a year prior.

Well aware of the test that Saturday morning, I did what any college student would do in the same circumstances: get hammered the night before. I was soused, topsy turvy drunk. The test didn’t really have any bearing on our degree, and in my efforts to have as much fun up at school as physically possible, drinking was a safe option. I don’t recall the occasion, or whom I even drank with, but I think it is safe to assume it was a very dumb idea, and wrecklessly irresponsible.

At 6:30 AM the next morning I woke to my alarm, in the living room of my house, still fully clothed from the night prior. I just got up and walked to Violet Hall, where the testing was taking place. As I stepped foot in the school building it occurred to me that I was still very much so intoxicated, as was dually noted by some of my classmates that came within a few feet of me. Poor form, Peter.. Poor form. I made it to my designated classroom and began the test in blissful oblivion, questions about the process of painting in the 16th century and random ceramic terminology, this was going to be a breeze.

Cue hangover.

Oh no. Oh God, no. The cold sweats started. The delirium tremors made filling in bubbles with my number 2 pencil harder than answering the questions themselves. I could feel hot vomit bubbling up my esophagus. I gathered my dignity and strength and shuffled to the front of the room. “May I please use the restroom?” “Sure, but we can only let one person out of the room at a time, you’ll have to wait until the other student comes back.” Son of a bitch. I know that hangover-sickness comes in waves, so I focused my attention on my test. The wave approached again, and the cold sweats were my sign to go to the bathroom. I got up and shuffled to the front again. “Can I go now?” Oh no, sorry, someone else already left to go. You’ll have to wait again..” Well, this is it. I was going to vomit all over this very quiet sterile classroom where people were intently focused on a test that determined their future as a teacher. Since I had no intention of becoming a teacher this test meant nothing to me other than experiencing a painful hangover the likes I would normally have slept through.

Then the door opened. I made a beeline to the bathroom before I had even reached my desk again. Halfway down the lobby towards the restroom I vomited in my mouth. Not just a little regurgitation, but a full blown chunky vomitus that I somehow contained in my mouth. As I drop kicked the door open, I let fly a projectile spew into the nearest receptacle, which just so happened to be the paper towel trash can. I couldn’t even make it to the toilet. I just unloaded in that little metal trash can like I had the bubonic plague foaming out of my face. Sweet relief.

As I stumbled back into the classroom reeking of disgorged beer and whiskey, I took a seat and lay my head down. I was abruptly woken by my classmate kicking me, pointing to her test and then to the clock. It would seem that I passed out for over an hour, snoring and burping. This left me a paltry 20 minutes to complete a test I had barely made a dent in. I finished my test just in time to hand in my answer sheet then rush back to the bathroom to vomit, in a toilet this time. The bathroom was now full of test takers who hushedly giggled at my retching. As I emerged from the stall wiping my mouth, people looked at me witha mixture of disgust and amusement.

“Tough test, wasn’t it?” I muttered. This roused more disgusted looks and a few laughs.

The beauty of this whole scenario was not only did I finish, despite my hangover and vomiting, but I passed with flying colors. I did very well, and others in my class didn’t pass at all. Truman gave me the the tools I needed to become one of the school’s most functional alcoholics.

Ill-health has struck the Grayure household.  Mark was throwing up all night, we’re not sure why – which meant that nobody else got much sleep.  Daniel has been watching Friends videos all day, and I have had to abandon plans to work at the library and fail to write anything very much today, though I did organise all my short stories.

Hoping to go and see Citizen Kane in a couple of weeks – very excited about the new Phoenix opening.  Apparently there are also good plans for the old Phoenix building.

Enjoy your good health

TTFN

Some Of That Funky Stuff | www.peopleofwalmart.com.

This past Halloween I embarked in a journey dubbed “The Halloween Bus Party.” The Halloween Bus Party is held every Halloween, and is exactly what the name entails. It is a procession of buses that ferry drunk-asses around the greater St. Louis area to different bars. Each bus is packed full of alcohol, including a cooler of beer, hundreds of jello shots, and jungle juice. In theory, this is brilliant. No risk of driving while intoxicated and everyone has alcohol provided between bars.

We started out at The Atomic Cowboy and signed in and got our passes. After this, all hell broke loose. We filled the buses and immediately began pounding beer and jello shots. Before we even got to the first bar, the Trainwreck in Westport Plaza, a girl on our bus had vomited. The whole bus reeked of regurgitated beer. Not pleasant. Come to find out, it could have been a lot worse, someone on one of the other buses decided to just go ahead and urinate on the the bus on the way there. A public school kindergarten field trip to the zoo is better behaved than this group.

At the Trainwreck, 100+ people in costumes filed into this bar and immediately began harassing the unsuspecting patrons of the restaurant whom were already eating. Mind you, it is only 7:00pm at this point. Wolverines waited in line for the men’s room while a slutty group of pirates took pictures with them. Waldo was ordering Jager-bombs, and a very drunk Pocahontus danced like a mentally challenged Elaine Benes. Nothing makes sense on Halloween. I love this holiday. My two other Ghostbuster compadres, and I opted to go to the bar next door, a near vacant mexican restaurant where an overweight man was singing covers, mostly of Jimmy Buffet.

Moving onward, people slowly but surely filed back onto the buses. We were down quite a few people at this point, but moral was higher than earlier. Imagine a bus barreling down the highway, with people flying around, completely unrestrained, guzzling beer and shouting obscenities from the windows. The next stop being The Skybar.

As we pulled in, there was a costume contest going on, and without any reservation, two of the three Ghostbusters jumped up on stage and began dancing. The crowd was not receptive, since we apparently barged into the women’s costume contest, we were unceremoniously booed from the stage. Our third Ghostbuster was vomiting outside in the bushes, and I started talking to an unattractive overweight bartender in the lobby.

From there we went to a Taco Bell that was closed where one of the few people left on the bus went out to check with the employees and ended up falling in the mud. Back at the Atomic cowboy, there was another costume contest, and the Pocahontus in our group won. The winning costume wearer was awarded a framed picture of a woman covered in blood, and a dildo. Where the Hell am I? The rest of the evening was spent chugging beer we swiped from the bus’s cooler and launching pumpkins into a wall with a catapult behind the bar. Halloween was a success!

This dream started out with me on an airplane, and we were just reaching our destination.
Upon our descent, most of the people on the plane started to get airsick (and if you know me, I’m the type of person who can’t STAND to see, hear, smell, etc. ANYone vomiting.  It is extremely disturbing to me).  Once the plane landed, I rushed off of it to get away from these people.

We had landed in the middle of a wide, open plain.  I can’t say for sure, but I’m guessing it was Africa, and you’ll see why in a second.
We were all of the same group, and we began to walk towards the edge of a cliff (which wasn’t too much of a cliff–it had a slope downwards that was fairly steep, but we were still able to climb down it).  We were walking, and then we came upon a giraffe.  I started yelling at everyone to go AROUND the giraffe rather than near it, because they are actually quite dangerous, but nobody listened to me.  The giraffe then proceeded to swing it’s head at people and hit them with its two bony horns (which, I recall from watching National Geographic the other night, is how giraffes fight amongst each other in real life).
In an “I told you so” manner, I began to climb down the slope with a few other people.

Once at the bottom of the slope, we were on a second plain, and then we got into a truck.  Most of us were in the bed of the truck, because there wasn’t much room in the cab, of course.  as we were driving, a cheetah started to attack us–it was jumping so high that it was above the bed of the truck, and trying to jump into it.
I, for some reason, had some sort of a club or a baseball bat, and I hit it to fend it off, which worked.

A little while later, we got out of the truck, and started walking….and then some male lions started chasing after us.
We ran as fast as we could, and eventually someone saw a beach, and yelled “head towards the water!  They’re cats, so they don’t like to swim!!”, and so we did just that…and it actually worked.
The lions didn’t follow us into the water, and after about 5 minutes, they got bored with waiting for us to come out of the water, and wandered off.

In a second part of the dream, I was taking pictures of fiddler crabs on the shore.
Then, it switched to a scene where I was still in this Africa-type place, but I was conducting an interview for the teacher of an elementary school.  The interview was being held on the playground of the school, and the person that I was interviewing for the position was messing with a piece of fabric on the sand for some reason….after a few minutes, this all changed–I was the interviewee, and the woman was the one who was interviewing me.
The interview concluded, and at about the same time, a male teacher came up to the interviewers, who were his superiors, and told them that, from now on, he would like to be addressed as Mr. 33702 (or a number similar to this–I know that the first two digits were 3s, but I can’t remember the last 3 digits), which was his zip code.  I made a joke that he was definitely not the only one in that zip code, and that there must have been hundreds of other “Mr. 33702″s, but he ignored me.

The dream then changed again, and I was still in this Africa-like area, but this time, I was a senior in high school again.  I took a few different artsy classes (which makes sense, since, in real life, I’m a photographer and all-around artist), and in one class, I won a contest where the prize was to pick one of a variety of corsets.  I chose one that was all-white, had a lacy pattern, and was very elegant and feminine.  Then that class ended, and I ran into a friend (a friend who I actually DO know in real life, but whom I haven’t seen or talked to in a few years, and she just happened to be in the dream), and she was very hysteric, going on about how she thought she might be pregnant.  I was telling her that she shouldn’t worry, because the only reason why she thought this was because she was a day late on her period, and she hadn’t even taken a pregnancy test yet, but it didn’t calm her down.

Which was when I woke up.

NOTE: The following review was rejected for matters of taste by another website.  My blog, however, knows no such boundaries.

LCD SOUNDSYSTEM – Bye Bye Bayou

I had this idea once – I get them all the time – for a Zima commercial.