New Year's, anyone?

This is me.

I need a date for New Year's Eve.

If you live in the upstate New York area and are under 25 (and over 14, please?) comment this post and come out with me. I realize this is a bit late for making plans, but we deal.

You must be willing to kiss at midnight if not French. Calling me the next morning is not a requirement.

Lots of love,

the little princess. <3

I am awkward.

And I admit this openly.

So, in keeping with the "tell all" spirit I've so recently adopted, let's share some more.

I'm really religious. Yeah, I know you wouldn't know it from my devil-red lipstick, my open enjoyment of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, or my very dirty mouth, but I am.

If you swear, I feel more comfortable around you. If I know you've got a mouth like a pirate, I feel it's okay to kiss you on the cheek and leave lipstick stains, tell you I am bisexual, and be my usual rowdy self. If you're prim as a pilgrim, I'll restrain myself and be quiet, virginal, and shy.

I have no modesty. I have no issues with you seeing the t-strap of my hot pink thong, my ass crack, my boobs, or underneath my skirt. Granted, if I didn't shave today or I've got my period, you're far less likely to catch glimpses of Miss Kitty. But, speaking generally, I honestly don't mind if you snap my thong  walking by when I'm bent over at my locker.

I love being snuggly. If we're watching a movie, I'd really prefer to have my legs in your lap. If it's squishy in the car, I don't mind sitting ON your lap. I love giving and getting hugs. I also don't mind if you tickle me or throw me in the pool. I'm just a punkrock teddy bear.

I feel awkward sometimes when you expect me to be slutty. For real! I don't like taking my clothes off in a sexual way. Does that make sense? I'll strip off my shirt and walk around in my bra or a bikini top, and if you accidentally see my boob, fine. But actually taking my girls out is weird to me. If I'm pulling a Courtney Love and falling over drunk somewhere, and my underwear come out, fine. But if you want me to take them off for you, I feel dirty and sketch.

strawberry fields....

So I know I haven't posted in a while, and there's really no reason for that.

I just felt the need to write tonight. So here goes.

I am not a normal girl.

I have religious experiences when I listen to certain Beatles songs.

The best compliments I ever received were "You roll your R's like Billie Joe" (from Green Day) and "You look like you just walked off the set of Nightmare Before Christmas."

I loved my ex boyfriend intensely because he said things like "Wear that shirt that makes you look like a vampire" and because he tricked me into it.

I like to wear bright makeup, like turquoise eyeliner in big cat's eyes or fuchsia lipstick. I call this cat's eye look my "vampire eyes" and I never leave the house without it.

My favourite Tic Tacs are the pink breast cancer ones. My favourite month is October because of my birthday and Halloween.

My idols are people like Amy Winehouse, Courtney Love, and Anna Nicole Smith. Because those women are strong, no matter what you might think.

I am honestly just as comfortable in four inch spike heels and a miniskirt as I am in slippers and sweatpants.

I love to dance, whether it's in a leotard, tights, and pointe shoes in a ballet studio, in a minidress and spike heels at a club, or in bare feet and underwear in my room.

I've had a four year crush on a boy in a band, and I am blessed enough to talk to him, even as semi-friends.

I have never dated a boy who is "my type," even though I have been in love.

I have amazing friends.

I believe in God in the Christian sense, but I also believe in taking truths wherever you find them, so I believe in the Wiccan idea of sending energy out into the universe and then letting it do its thing. I also believe in rubbing a Buddha's stomach for good luck. I make wishes on necklace clasps, 11:11, stars, eyelashes, and anything else you tell me I can make wishes on.

I love to pamper myself and love bath products for this reason.

I dye my hair brown because "vampires prefer brunettes" and because I like the way it makes me look paler.

I'd honestly prefer to be pale to tan.

I want to be a 1950's pinup girl, like the ones Billy DeVorss drew, or like Bettie Page.

I wish I was a "classic beauty," like Kat Von D or those pinup girls.

I like all kinds of music, from 50 Cent to Shania Twain, from Mindless Self Indulgence to Beyonce, from Katy Perry to Modest Mouse, from Rascal Flatts to Handel to Beethoven to Amy Winehouse to Panic! At The Disco, to Jack Johnson and Sublime. I am willing to listen to anything once, if tentatively.

I am going to college to study Music Industry and therefore own a record label. I will have tattoos and piercings. If I'm lucky, I will date a skater boy or a rock star who is adorable but insane like Bam Margera.

I want to own one cat and one dog, and the cat will be named Beatz after Bayside's late drummer (RIP) and the dog will have one of those classic older lady names, like Bettie or Barbie or Edie or Marlene.

I want to drive a stick shift sports car, and this, as well as designer shoes and purses, will be my luxury.

I currently drive a '97 Toyota Corolla named Enrique (after Enrique Iglesias) which I love dearly. It amuses me how it hits lift and accelerates so fast, like it wants to be a Spider or a Viper or an Aston Martin for me. I appreciate that.

I shop almost exclusively at Victoria's Secret, Hot Topic, Target, Delia's, Spencer's, and JC Penney.

Even though I'm a girl, I rabidly read Car & Driver and Road & Track. This causes jaws to drop.

I know and accept that I'm pretty, but I never want to rub it in your face. I just wish all the boys at my school weren't so clique brainwashed into thinking they could never date me. I promise I'll make you laugh and you won't regret hanging out with me.

I am bisexual and proud.


After college I am going to move to England and live in a flat in London with my bulldog and my tabby cat. I'll let you visit me and buy you presents if you'd like.

revamped.

So obviously, I'm done blogging about sex, at least for a while. It'll be on my list of things to blog about, however, not THE main thing, because, well, Boy and I broke up. Too bad. He'll be getting shitty drunk blowjobs, and I'll be giving first class ones to someone else!

The reason I'm saying this is because as of now, I'm totally in the mood for random, dirty filthy hookups. Haha!

I'm also totally going out this weekend and hopefully totally getting laid. I've got my eye on about four boys at the mo. Yes, I'm that good.

In other news, I've just met a new boy who I'll call T. T is this darling emochild, complete with hip piercings, lip rings, and a nose ring. He's skinny, but whatever, buff boys are so last year.

Second on the my to do list is M.  M is also skinny (what IS it with me?) but a virgin, which I find totally endearing and cute at this point. He also has a rockin' swimmer's body. Uh, yummy.

Third, we have Z and J, who are basically interchangeable. Z's hotter, no lies, but J seemed almost interested today, whereas Z has talked to me all of twice in my life. A girl can dream...

If I get super lucky, my lovely (nonexistent) fans will have lots of juicy details to catch up on this Tuesday. Long weekends kick ass. 

Finally, a boy who looks like McLovin 

(read:) 

asked me out last week. I'm not in the mood for relationships, boys! I want some naughty fun to throw away! 

the annoyed slut

Why do guys think it's totally okay to whine, bitch, or ignore their girlfriends, yet if we miss one text to take a pee, there will be eighteen more saying "baby? baby? BABY?! WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME?!"

And why is it okay for them to call the shots about sex? Why can my boyfriend tell me we aren't having sex anymore when we both want it, and it's my body that would be getting pregnant?

Maybe I'm just bitchy today or something.

Anyway, I went for a random walk around town today. People must think I'm clinically depressed or something, I do this at least once a week if it's nice out. Today I did it in a colorful skirt and wedge heels... oh well. So I wandered around, saw my friend Fuckhead's mom, which was weird. Then, as I was taking a back street on the way home (I had wanted to look at an imprint in the sidewalk and didn't want to seem even more crazy by abruptly stopping, staring at the ground, then turning around and heading back the way I came) I saw an old buddy. He'd lived on my street until a few months ago, and I was psyched to see him again.

We had little chitchats about everything, from my dirty hippie ex to my current bf (I did, in fact, whine a bit, but it was okay cause my buddy agreed with me) and then about the nasty motorcycle accident he got in.

Apparently he broke both his arms back in between the elbow and the wrist, and they had to cut his pants, shirt, gloves and boxers off him. Guess what they found after cutting off his boxers?

ONE OF HIS NUTS WAS FALLING OUT OF HIS NUTSACK. I kid you not. He split his sack or something when he crashed. Holy shit, I did not know that could even ever happen.

And he told me all this in front of his seven year old daughter.