May 21
The shirt is blue. My mighty tan scares it into appearing white! Down, shirt! Down! All of a sudden, too, people are like "jesus fucking CHRIST, are you tan! What did you do?" I'm like "man, you see me every day, and NOW you notice that I'm tan? Now? And people are all "that CAN'T all be natural!! you HAVE to be going to a tanning parlor!" Which, as we all know is true, but it makes me feel like I'm slacking off somehow. Like, "ohh..SHE goes to a TANNING PARLOR, SHE is a lady of leisure!!' Like it's anybody's business how I catch my cancer. I mean, it's obvious I'll GET Cancer, and when I do, I'll write all about it, and have you all send me money in a big, fake ploy for gifts and sympathy. Except, of course, I'll REALLY have cancer and really WILL die, unlike certain current online scandals of people who need to seek them some professional help because of Self Esteem Issues,so no one will feel like I'm some big city slicky girl, trying to get people to send me postcards or something. However, half of you (more, maybe) will be all "She deserved that cancer. She made fun of retarded people!. She is Mean As A Spider. That BITCH!"
My Butt:
Operation Ass seems to have gone off just as planned. What? Don't know about Operation Ass? I didn't mention it? Well, then, I'll explain. So, the other day, in my entry, I'd discussed my patterned ass. The patterned ass I got because I still had these sessions at the tanning place (and let me tell you all how I feel when I talk about going tanning: I feel like one of those teased hair women, the ones who have big, metal glasses with the funky earpieces that go from the top of the glasses and swoop down rather than going straight [if you wear glasses now and wore them in the 80's, you know of which I speak. If not, well, sorry--for you, think MC Hammer or something] and some kind of extravagant chain dangling around my neck and wear yellow windsuits all the time. Smooshed out white Reeboks on my feet. Black and gold plated metal two handled handbag clutched to my side. So tan, I'm orange. So shrill and oily the vapid, skinny 18 year olds behind the counter are afraid to go into the bed to sanitize it after I leave. Anyway, that's how I feel. Your mileage may vary.)
Right, Operation Ass. You remember the underwear induced sunburn all over my ass, right? Okay, so I get this great idea. "Dana! Since you still have a bunch of sessions left, why don't you use one to make your butt even?!" I convince myself that this is the Best Idea Ever, and off I go. I lay there all bare assed, privates exposed to the harmful UV rays. (please note: I work in a research lab, which is a place I happen to use the can several times a day. The shit that floats around in the air here HAS to be worse than UV rays, and I'm usually pretty vulnerable when I'm..uh...uhh...squatting, so all things considered, it's the lesser of two evils.) I am keeping my um...heh...Super Privates covered with my underwear. (A crotch burn? ow!) 20 minutes pass. I leave.
Later, I drop my drawers and check my butt. I am uniformly red. It was a success! Except then, in the shower: the flaw in the plan makes itself known. I have a red, sunburned ass like the red butt monkey I brought up the other day. Water upon my mighty sunburned red butted monkey ass hurts in a way I can not give words. It fucking hurts. It hurts when I lie down to sleep. It hurts when I shift from cheek to cheek. Dragging underwear up? Hurts. Putting on jeans? Hurts.
All in the name of a uniform butt. My 6 hour plane ride will be interesting tomorrow.
And Speaking Of:
You California people are rabid in your desire to share information about the place. All of it appreciated, but I'm amused by the amount of bars you've all listed. I mean, a 4 night trip, and no shit, about 85 bars. I like those odds and all, but really, people. You overestimate my love for the bottle. No, really. You do. You DO, shut up.
So, I'm not bringing my laptop, but will have internet access, and may or may not try to update while I'm away. Certainly I won't if I'm staggering between bars and cleaning vomit out of Nick & Al's (Al's coming too! Hi Al!) hair. ("Who did that come out of?" "I don't know!" "I LOVE you, man!!" "Ugh, who ate peppers?") hair, because then, jesus, we'll be having such a good time, there will be time to write anything down, but again, like my wild and wacky hand written Mexico Journal, I'll be writing stuff down. Hopefully, this time I'll be able to take more than 24 pictures on my digital camera.
Japantown, here I come. See you all soon.
the other day | home | email | soon | contest
when I was just a little child
happiness was there awhile
then from me, it slipped one day
happiness, come back, I say.
cause if you don't come, I've got to go looking
for happiness