a year older, absolutely no wiser

But it's not like that's a bad thing, right?

I had a freaking scream in New Orleans, in spite of the fact that I was feeling a bit too sick for any kind of boozy fun on that sacred day of days. My beloved cohort and inviter-of-me-to-Nawlins was even sicker, so we vowed to raincheck the shit out of some partying. It was pretty incredible to be back in that town, which I really feel like is this other fucking world that sparked so much of my imagination and development and dreams and lust right after I turned 21. In some ways, I really wasn't sure I was going to feel the same way about it. Not because of the hurricane, but because I couldn't help but wonder if I hadn't been crazy about the city per se, but rather just enamoured with my old fuckbuddy who I used to hang out with when I was there.

Luckily, the magic persisted, I didn't even really want to see him (not that he was in town, I think) and it still acts as a rather powerful sexual locus for me, which is also fucking awesome (as it were). Seriously, only in New Orleans do people tell me I'm cute and hit on me and this was perhaps the most intense example of said particular phenomenon.

But first, let's talk about the holiday. So, my friend Mary (my aforementioned beloved cohort) invited me to spend the holiday with her family, which I was excited about because I LOVE her mom (funny damn woman, Ph. D. in British Lit and obsessed with Jack the Ripper) and her mom's girlfriend, whom I had stayed with for one fucking night a day or so after Christmas before I relocated to the pad of ye old fuckbuddy.

Anyway, this trip allowed me to witness the elaborate and entertaining dysfunction of her family. There was yelling, drinking, embarassment, certainty that I was going to watch someone die on Christmas, outrageous claims of the world's largest animal being a 'whale shark,' upsetting Christmas annecdotes...in short, it rocked. I'm always jealous of families that are so expressive, even if their problems seem to be without end - I'm so sick of passive aggressive shit, and I really never see anyone in my extended family, so it's fun to see both elements and not have to deal with the repercussions of either.

Anyway, on Christmas night, Mary, her cousin and I went out to the French Quarter and passed through a few of her favorite dive spots and my old Quarter fave The Abbey. We took turns hitting up the legendary jukeboxes of New Orleans, partook of some delightful free cookies and chatted with some cool girl at the Abbey about her incredible red and green rice krispie treats. Mary was lucky enough to receive the world's worst yet most topical pickup line ever: "I've got a FEMA trailer with your name on it," which was followed up with, "And my zebra sheets survived the flood." Hee-larious, I wrote it down on a cocktail napkin and stuffed it in my pocket so I might enjoy it later in life.

What was really surprising about the whole evening was that it managed to not feel depressing. A few days earlier, the mayor finally suspended the 2-6 am curfew, so I think a lot of people were celebrating that, as well as the end of the irritants and obligations of Christmas. There were a lot of people out, which I thought was awesome. So when Mary and her cousin wanted to head home at the modest hour of 1:30 (amateurs!), I decided to drop them off and head back out the Quarter by myself, which is honestly a very 50/50 proposition: usually I hate hanging out at bars by myself, but Nawlins has this unbelievable conviviality that makes meeting people very easy and fun a great deal of the time. Anyway, this time things didn't go so hot, and I almost headed home but decided to make one last stop.

On this stop, I met a very cute, charming, smart boy who was all up in my business, slathered me with compliments, told me I was an incredible kisser (that one IS true), begged me to let him take me out to dinner the next day...and promptly did not call me. I got really pissed off, but then remembered that game playing is the name of the, er, game. Whatever. I got a little flustered over it, followed by an impossible and seemingly endless quest to get from point A to point B the following day, which lead me to absolutely demand to get seriously drunk.

So, in the midst of mixing beers, shots and Mind Erasers with absolutely no regard for my body, this very hot boy in our drinking posse starts hitting on me. Now, when I meet attractive but evidently stupid gay boys, I don't really make an effort to talk to them that much, because I know that they're stupid and almost guarantee they're not interested in me. As far as I can tell, we didn't really talk that much, but I suppose that as the night continued I lost any sense of what was actually happening (mind erasers...so well named). Anyway, I ran into an old Nawlins acquaintance who used to be the fuckbuddy's roomie, and suddenly this boy in our boozing posse (let's call him Matthew, as it's his name) siddles up to me and tells me that I need to come home with him.

Later on, I realized that he was probably freaked out that I was 'talking' to another male who was not him, and felt like he needed to make his move rather immediately. So, this kid was on the dumb side, but I had to take some naked pictures of him, just because he is so much hotter than any of my other conquests. And even though he was dumb, he was far from the dumbest of the conquests, so not all is lost.

Anyway, very much fun had, and I feel that my adventures in New Orleans jolted me out of my head and sleazed out my soul enough to set me off the the exact right foot for being 24 in the year 2006. It's a little freaky for me to have my birthday so near New Years, just because there's barely time to get used to being another irrelevant digit older before we're talking about a whole new year on deck to piss away.

egads!

It actually happened. An impossibly beautiful miracle has hijacked my meager hopes of Texan berfday and Xmas and scattered them to the four winds! I am now headed to New fucking ORLEANS for these two momentous occaisons, for their respective out of hand partyiong and family celebration.

Things are looking up.

I don't have a job, of course. Nonono.

But, I do have hope. And I am taking the mothafucking GRE on the fourth of January, and I fully intend to study my pale behind off.

Shortly after I recover from being partied and celebrated off.

on second thought

So, after doing some drinking last night and attending a job interview for a company that makes synthetic vaginas, I'm feeling a lot more humored by the nature of the universe.

blech!

I have been waiting for those petty mistresses Inspirtation and Actual Content to fill me up to the brim before posting again, but they seem to be on the run.

I did indeed finally finish my plagiarized masterpiece for my fucked up neighbor, only to be greeted with unexpected critiques. So after having stayed up all night and all day haphazardly assembling the paper, I spent another six hours of chainsmoking and pill-popping (aderol, useless) to pound out something closer to his aim - however, it was shorter than the forementioned length and not all of the citations 'matched up.' However, this dude seems to think these issues may lead to him 'flunking the class' and so I have yet to see my fucking payment.

Luckily, during this academic marathon, I was also battling the beginning of an illness. Which, two full days of staying up later, metamorphosed into a beastly ailment which still plagues me to this day.

Basically, I am not feeling terribly chipper or holiday spirited at the moment. My birthday is in exactly one week, which means that Christmas is just around the damn corner. I have a dizzying lack of enthusiasm surrounding the day of my birth this year. I was thinking about having some kind of drinking and pool-playing extravaganza on Saturday, but my enthusiasm has waned on that, as on nearly everything else. I dream of a future in which I am not a complete loser.

Even when everything is not covered in snow, this season must still fucking fuck itself.

fuck, actually cold, fuck

I wanted to write about how I am in the midst of the dawning of the age of Sagittarius and everything is going to get done and be okay but FUCK it actually is kind of cold today, shock of shocks. Rumor has it we may ever drop...just below freezing! Gasp. These people are not ready for it, but I'm REALLY not because I thought I was finally safe.

One other thing: um, reluctant as I am to confess, I have become utterly obsessed with myspace. Like, to the point of complete non-reason. On a positive note, it has totally facilitated having a connection to people that I may not see again, but at least I have some slight ability to keep track of where they are and what the fuck they are doing. However, when I just compulsively enter the names of every single person ever to have crossed my path...um, that's actually BAD. Or at least highly unconstructive.

Which brings us to my performance as plagiarist - the paper is due on Friday afternoon, and I have pretty much done nothing except find sixty pages of articles to research. My employer continues to behave super-erratically, ever willing to act as a public service announcement for why doing coke is bad.

I do, however, have a job interview tomorrow. FINALLY. And I've been applying to a shitload of places and just earmarked four more to respond to today. My money situation is getting pathetic, and the fact that I have been so comfortable doing so fucking little here is frankly terrifying.

Tomorrow will mark precisely two weeks standing between me and my 24th birthday. I'm currently trying to brainstorm so I can plan something so fantastically off the hook that all of Austin will be REELING! Brainstorming for this, which is totally unimportant for right now, completely unlike my contract paper thing. Perspective? Yes please. Reality? I think I'll pass.

nobody said it was eeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaasyyyyyy

So, yesterday morning, at 8 am, I was awoken by Coldplay and a coked-out Venezuelan performing on the porch. This figure shall be known as V, AKA a blow-enabling madman who is paying me to write a paper for him.

INteresting, non?

So, his drunk and crazy ass kidnaps me, takes me up to Mount Bonnell, both of us in PJs and runs around and smokes me out and insists on me drinking in the sights, which were not unincredible - obviously, it was beautiful.

But this kid is crazy, and acting like he's too drunk to drive back. I don't know how to drive stick so I couldn't take his wheels and ditch him. He yells at me when I try to walk away from him, he flips out when I commented 'Nice scene, V,' calls me a fucking bitch girl for me wanting to be taken home, then finally does a bump and brings me back. This time, no running of reds or stops or knocking over construction shit. Phew.

Anyway, he kept on saying I was going back to bed (I wasn't) and how I should go out to coffee with him.

Nono, cocoadog.

I woke up to him seriously and crazily challenging my commitment to doing his fucking paper, blahblah, I had no desire to talk about it much more. I go inside to get dressed, take proper bonghits and prepare my excuse.

So this cat is just waiting on my porch, shirtless. And while he is straight, it seems to him perhaps that perky, epic pecs and biblically flat stomach may convince me to do what he fucking wants. Luckily, Josh pretended to follow through on being an extra in the local caveman epic (actually being filmed, not even kidding) so I had an out.

Anyway, that was yesterday, this is today. Must go to bank, must go grocery shopping, must FUCKING WRITE.