Pin Up Girl

Miss Shepherd, don't make me remove those little shorts.

Big Companies Blow

http://ariokh.deviantart.com

Yuck. I honestly loathe big business.
And I'm such a liar.
I have to pretend to be a different person at every job interview. Oh yes, I love to bring joy to the customer,
I am VERY organized,
I just love covering shifts and taking overtime,
would I describe myself as a team player? Oh definitely.
Bullshit.
I have no passion for customer service. I won't take extra shifts if I can avoid them. Me, a team player? Craziness.
Oh well. Today will be a blast nonetheless. I'm taking Pin-Up girl photos of the lovely Miss Shepherd. I know you're all waiting with baited breath for those images. Well looks like my unemployment streak is coming to an end soon. (Eventually.) If I don't get hired here I'll be a sad janitor. But honestly? Mopping floors appeals to me more than licking other people's assholes to appease them.
I know, I'm too vulgar.

Happy!

Quite honestly, today and yesterday were some of the finest of the summer. It all began at around eight 'o' clock a.m. I was picked up in a white truck and abducted!
My captor was kind to me, but his cousin forced me to sing silly songs until my lungs were rather tired and longing for cigarette smoke.
After this she let us watch Flakes, a fantastic movie that featured Miss Zooey Deschanel. (My icon and true love) It was a charming film, complete with happy endings and songs about cereal.
Then we all swam about, me ending up with silly bohemian Jesus hair and runny mascara. Still, it was a regular blast. Factor in some Windwaker and you have the makings of a lovely day.
We got back in the white truck and headed back to writer's club. Much was accomplished, but not by me. I lazed about pretending to work on my novel. Alec finished three chapters and I had the pleasure of listening to more of A Fairy Tale, by Mister A.B. Chunn.
And today you ask?
Painting!
We painted until our hands were blistered and sore. Stopped once for a slurpee and Mac&Cheese.
Finally, the alien abduction painting is finished.

Here is a close up of the girl...

And the theme of my happiness, the glorious and wonderful:
"Fuck You"

Thank you God for days like these.

Oh... and I got a job interview!
As the janitor.
At four in the morning.
Yuck.

Oh my Jesus!

I was productive today!
I washed dishes and applied for another job. (As a janitor from 10p.m to 4a.m.)

Things I want to do: (Updated version)
* Go to the dinosaur land in Granger, WA and take pictures/have a picnic
*Paint the animals eat people exhibition.
*Finish my children's book/my other book.
*Possibly give my other book a title.
*Go to the laundromat.
*Have a dance-a-thon
*Get a job and take Janet to the casino

It's a Tuesday night, but writer's club is not to be. I suppose I will work diligently on my novel and illustrations. I have not much else to do. No one to visit. Sean's ant-trap worked. All my old friends are dead and laying in a mass grave.
A hammer fell on my mother's head yesterday. Am I a bad person for finding that hilarious? (She's fine)
It's four in the afternoon and I've only had one cigarette today. I need an award.
I'm rambling. I have no point. The point is I suppose, that I am a pointless and meaningless human being. That I do not contribute to society or plan to. That I am still festering in my little studio half-garage just waiting to go bad and get tossed out. Not unlike the three bags of untouched salad greens that my mother so kindly gave me. (I trashed them today, I think they were composting)
Fuck me.
I didn't mean to be depressing again! I meant to write a cheery lighthearted and mildly hopeful piece about productivity and things I've yet to do and am looking forward to. Then it deteriorated into a sad lament.
I'm so sorry fan club. I promise to write something more optimistic next. Very soon hopefully. No one likes a sad sack.

In which sixty dollars slipped from my hands quite accidentally.

Gambling.
I never saw myself doing it. My thoughts on the subject prior to today were as such; casinos are places where silly people drop their money into blinking machines for the joy of pushing a few buttons. I just didn't see the point. After today, I feel that casinos are places people go to lose a lot of cash. (Or me at least.)
I'm nineteen. On my eighteenth birthday I visited Castle, our local sex shop, and smoked a vanilla cigar. Gambling didn't even register in my head.
Why did I wait so long?
Alec's mom drove me, Sean, Alec, and his Gran Gran to the Toppenish casino tonight. She funded the whole extravaganza. I started with forty dollars and was lured in like a moth by the bleeping noises and shining lights of a Cleopatra machine. All went well, my luck was with me. I turned a five dollar bill into fifteen. It was nearly alchemy.
Then things got bad.
I spent the forty faster than a horde of seagulls eat a chunk of stale bread. Then I moved on to the nine dollars I had in ones. Alec's mom saved the day, and bestowed me with yet another twenty dollars.
Then things got worse.
The twenty dwindled. Until I, remembering the scarcity of cigarettes and gasoline and general-anything-at-all in my life, stopped playing after I lost another ten dollars.
(Oh I forgot to mention that there was smoking allowed in the casino! That was probably one of the most thrilling parts.)

Finally things spiraled into an uncontrollable plummet to the depths of despair.
I discovered the slot machines with the levers. How could I resist? It was a LEVER. And I pulled it. And I pulled it again. And again.
The whole time my money was being consumed I kept desperately hoping that I would win a thousand dollars and live in comfort and luxury.
Needless to say, it didn't happen.
I lost it all. All of Mrs. Chunn's money, and some of my own pitiful stash.
Goodbye money, I will miss you, truly.
Gambling...not a great idea, but a lovely time all the same.

Selling my soul for a pack of cigarettes...

Why does this world revolve around money? I wish it wasn't so; if only I could get by. It's just no good.
I'll have to sell my body to some eatery and service customers.

"Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams, telling myself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems..."
-Led Zeppelin

Marketing my paintings and churning out "popular" material would make me ill. If I wrote songs for the general public I'd sound like an idiot.
I believe in music having either inventive/solid lyrics or great instrumentals. Or both...
I like the words to my songs, but my voice is abysmal and I pretty much suck at the guitar.
Then my paintings. Who wants to buy some creepy animals-dissecting-people painting? Correction, who with money would want to purchase that?
So I'm left with a terrible dilemma. Paint grapes and wine bottles, possibly take panoramic landscape photos of the Columbia river...or keep brewing nightmares/fantasies.
I know which one I'll chose right up until I become an emaciated crack whore.
McDonald's here I come?

July, July!

Despite my personal financial disaster and all the unfortunate occurrences in May/June, I have real hope for July. Yeah, I'll be stuck in an awful statistics night class. Yeah, I'm still incredibly broke.
But honestly, I'm happy. And I'll get a job at the tea garden.

Things to do this month:
1. Go to Vancouver, WA
2. Go to the Sandy Beach again?
3. Get a job.
4. Ride my bike somewhere.
5. Play guitar at the park.
6. Finish Chocolate Eater's
7. Have a picnic in the middle of the night.

I haven't been sleeping enough. Writer's club is creating some dark circles under my eyes. I don't mind, in fact, I love it.
(Not the circles, the club)

I can't write anymore without talking about a certain gentlemen. And I'm still feeling insecure about...things, so I think I'll wait to regal you all with great letters of my affection.
You don't mind, right?

So in conclusion, have a fantastic July everyone.