I had the day off from work today, I still have to go tp school at 6pm. I had big dreams about getting a million things done from the time I woke up until school. Unsurprisingly, I woke up at noon and haven't done anything worth while except paint my toe nails... which isn't necessarily worth while. Also, I have a pimple on my big toe. Its weird and painful but also sort of cool. I don't really get them on my face, so I guess this is fair.

high fade, tight fade

I go to hair school. I recently applied what I've learned in a real life situation. Not in a haircut, because that would be too painfully obvious.

I did, however, apply the shear over comb technique to my pubic hair. Not on purpose, I didn't set out to give my vag the perfect tight ass fade... it just happened.

A lot of things "just happen" to me, it seems.

In any case, I'm glad I'm getting my $18,000 worth of an education.

good cop black cop

During the winter, I would take the 8:03am Metra. It was fucking freezing and I was fucking miserable. There was always this 20 something looking black conductor who I fell sort of in love with. His name tag says "Fletcher". I don't know his first name. In any case I have been passively pining over him since winter. His shift changed and I never saw him until a few weeks ago when I found out that he was on the 10pm train that I take home.

I have a list of certain types of people I'd like to date before I die and a black dude is on it. I really thought that this would be it. We talk every night, briefly. Enough to the point where he doesn't charge me for my ticket. Its actually making my crush really confusing because I can't tell if I'm clocking out early and rushing to the train so that I can see him, or so I can save $3.35 (times are tough, ya know?). Either way, that's what I've been doing for a while. Upon further investigation, I find out this dude is like 38... which is a total mindfuck cause he seriously looks 24. God. Well I thought my old man boyfriend was going to be Mike Kates, a client at my salon, but hey, I take what I can get. Fletcher is way more efficient anyway, I'd like to knock out my black dude goal and my old man goal in one fell swoop. I think. I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of goal setting...

Fletcher is always in the first car. You know who else is in the first car? The guy pictured above. That guys name is Richard. He was always on the 10pm Metra with Fletcher. He works in a kitchen somewhere north of Evanston. He can also tell you how many feet of snow fell in 1983. He's impressive. There is also an older black cop named Marty, who this story is actually about. Me, Marty, Richard and Fletcher. Every night, 10pm. One day, Richard isn't there anymore. Marty tells me he had a heart attack, and a stroke. I have some sort of emotional attachment to Richard, so I'm a bit upset. Marty is seemingly unphased by it, but promises to get the scoop for me. He is, after all, a cop. Marty thinks the best way to inform me of Richard's condition is by telephone, and in my vulnerable emotional state, I give it to him. FUCKING IDIOT.

This dude calls me all the fucking time. I wish I could post these god damned voicemails this mother fucker leaves because they're always the same. And you know what? I've started avoiding the first car, I've started avoiding the 10pm train altogether because this piece of shit will not get off my dick and its all my fault. I can't hang out with this fine ass black dude because this old ass black COP is throwing a god damn stick in the spokes of my proverbial bike.

I should have just done what I used to do to dudes who wanted my number, and that was give them my dad's cell #. Worked like a charm... but I actually wanted to know how Richard was doing. That's what I get for caring, I guess. FTW.

I'm just really disappointed in myself and in life because not only am I getting way too many calls from an adult I am not trying to get in a bed with, but this dude doen't even give a shit about how Richard is and I'm admittedly scared to try to date Fletcher because he's old... not black... that would be racist.

equal rights, equal fights.

I got punched in the face today. By a dude. For real. I've done more than a few things in my life where I've felt deserving of an ass kicking, but this wasn't really one of them. Honestly, I thought i gave up the life of violence and fighting and raging.

At about 9:30, my roommate and I were sitting on the porch looking at youtube videos of gross things. Specifically, brown recluse spider bites, the biggest piranha ever, catfish noodling, the fattest kid on the planet, and a surgery on a clogged pore... in an eyelid. Gross. Anyway, we heard bickering from the house across the street. A blonde woman and a stocky short dude wearing a Metro Security shirt. We made a few quick jokes about altercations and domestic disputes, but I didn't think it would escalate. Then the dude shook the girl. Fine, I've been shaken. More than a few times. But this was a big angry shake that turned into a huge shove. The girl went flying to the ground and we stood up and I yelled at him to cut it out. He heard me, and then threw his cell phone at the girl and went over and picked her up and punched her.

I don't know what exactly I thought I would do, but I ran over and pulled this guy off of her. He grabbed me by the arm and punched me in the face. Really? Really you piece of shit? I punched him back and he threw me on this car and RIPPED MY FAVORITE TSHIRT. Fuck this dude. He got me on the ground and I kicked him in the head and scrambled up and punched him in the face again.. I really don't know who I think I am. I actually told this guy that I was going to "kick his ass". Immediately after saying that I knew it wasn't true. This dude was like 3 of me around. What an idiot.

My roommate's friend Chris came out. He just had a 10 pillar of bricks fall on top of him yesterday, so he was limping and he told me to stop going after the dude because he was in no shape to fight this guy. Fair.

My concern is that this angry asshole wouldn't go after a limping dude but he'll kick a girl in the head and punch another that he doesn't even sort of know. Or maybe its not a concern at all, why should I get special treatment because I'm a woman? Chris was injured, that is an unfair fight. I was sober and ready to rumble... Fair game.


Anyway, the police showed up, and they set out looking for this douche bag. They rode around the block a few times.. and then they came back and said they got him. Apparently he walked up to a parked police car knocking on the window asking directions... I id'd him and pressed charges. Mostly because this fucking bitch I was defending never stepped in, and didn't want to press charges. Fuck that. OH! AND HER NAME WAS AMBER.

If I knew that in advance, I would have never even stood up, except to get a better look.


Also, the ice cream truck that we were waiting for for an hour never showed up... and when he finally did, he didn't stop and it was a total bummer.

on being "fat"

i have always been told that my eating habits will "catch up" with me. specifically, i remember my mother dropping the age of 23 or so. well i'm 23, and she was right. i have a full length mirror in my room. i originally intended for it to serve as a tool to check whether or not my shoes go with me dress, but it has been mostly used to monitor how textured my thighs are getting.

this is frustrating on several levels, but mostly in a weird feminist way. i am a little upset that this is something i feel like i have to worry about.


but, its possible that i don't actually care. it'll go away... maybe.

Handicapped Dogs.

My dog Larry recently lost use of his back legs.  Its about $2500 for an MRI so my dad decided to skip it.  Understandably so.  Surely, we love our little guy, but that is a lot of fucking money.  So, instead of getting an MRI, we are just going to skip the bullshit and get him a puppy wheelchair. Larry is usually jumping around and very active, he's only about 5 years old... so this is relatively depressing. Its very difficult justify paying $2500 on a dog, but we really love him. What a moral perdicament.

Hi!

This will be a blog about things that I like, things I don't like, things you should like, things I do or want to do and other typically bloggy things.

back log

i used to have a live journal.

i want these posts to live on.

[02 Jul 2008|11:16pm]
i want to tell you about some good things and some bad things.


firstly,
i stole acquired with later permission, a 16G ipod touch. if you're familiar with old me, you know that i sold my ipod a few years back to pay rent on craigslist.org, a user powered website where you can find electronics like ipods, and also someone to blow you last minute... NSA.

in any case, oliver doesnt have any music on his computer and i fell off the downloading game about 4 years ago.
so, if you have music that i might like (which includes leeway, cro-mags, patsy cline, smokey robinson, 2*sweet (summer sweetness, not this new danzig shit) anthrax, and johnny cash) let me know because i will come over and talk a lot of shit and do a lot of downloading.

rules... very radical thing to happen upon.


another good thing is that my right foot is almost completely healed.

the bad thing is that my left foot is on some bullshit and doing the exact same thing my right did.
so dealing with that is some fucking bullshit. i'm way more aggressive with it now though, because i dont give a fuck. i had oliver sharpen a sewing needle so that i can stab blisters and squeeze this smily bullshit out of my foot.
im still very grossed out, but i don't have time for this sissy shit.
also, i can't afford to miss anymore work.
so, regardless of this disgusting bullshit on my foot, i will make appointments all day for rich white women.

which leads me to my next topic...


PREDNISONE.

which is what i am currently taking in large amounts for my trench foot.


check out this fabulous list of side effects:

Major
weight gain
facial swelling
depression, mania, or other psychiatric symptoms
unusual fatigue or weakness
mental confusion / indecisiveness
blurred vision
abdominal pain
peptic ulcer
infections
painful hips or shoulders
osteoporosis
insomnia
severe joint pain
cataracts
osteonecrosis
anxiety
black, tarry stools
stomach pain or bloating
severe swelling
mouth sores or dry mouth


Minor
stretch marks
nervousness
acne
rash
increased appetite
hyperactivity
frequent urination
diarrhea
removes intestinal flora


SINCE WHEN ARE STRETCH MARKS A MINOR EFFECT?

also im freaking out. i feel like my heart is going a million miles a minute, anything anyone says, i want to stab them, and i can't stop eating.

also, my poop is weird, but htat might be power of suggestion....


in any case, im a total fuckign spaz and i cant walk so i cant stomp around and be a spaz, i just have to type really fast and get itchy and all cracked out and fight everyone.



miss you miss you holla back! i dont care about anything? can't you tell by my use of slang?


snack log [01 Jul 2008|01:23pm]
i am eating
a mediterranean veggie sandwich, no feta.
a silly side salad.
dr. pepper.



the problem with this is that these flare-ups don't happen instantly.


i will never know.


vegan warrior (not by choice).
3 uccisi | tempo di uccidere

july first [01 Jul 2008|09:53am]
i took benadryl last night and passed out.

this morning, i woke up late, raced to the train, got to work on time.

i'm drinking peppermint tea. i think its organic. radical. i put sugar in it because i am 12.

the bottoms of my feet are itching really badly, in a weird inside way. so its kind of pointless to put any medicine greasy shit on it, because its not on the outer layer of skin.

anyway, i thought it was getting better, and it was.. but its getting bad again and i am getting frustrated. i'm at work. i have no shoes on. im exhausted and i just want to go back to sleep and forget about my feet itching and swelling up. kill me kill me kill me.


food log? [30 Jun 2008|09:15pm]
i started getting really itchy today, oliver suggested i keep track of everything i've eaten, to see if that has something to do with it.


fine.


today i ate at earwax... by myself. because i went to art and science evanston to work at 830am, only to realize i was not on the schedule for 830 in evanston, i was on for 11am in wicker park. fuck me.

so i made it back to wicker park, sat at earwax, ate that goofy granola bake. granola, peaches? blueberries, too much sugar and a side of yogurt. yogurt. dairy. hm, what an idiot.


i also drank an espresso shake. now aware of dairy intake, i opted for soy ice cream. delicious. p.s. they were out of vanilla, it was made with chocolate ice cream instead, i added bananas. bananas, espresso, soymilk/ice cream. yum.

then i went to kumas. i ordered the melvins. with mozzarella. cheese. dairy. god dammit. kill me.


anyway... its not my feet, its my upper arms and my scalp. i took a shower to see if it would help. it hasnt.

its becoming more and more feasible that this is a food allergy... a dairy allergy....




animal liberation?


day 3... haven't shaved in weeks... [23 Jun 2008|08:44pm]
so today is the third day i haven't left the house.


i just got over having a mini emotional break down that i'd like to share with you.

i fell asleep last night (this morning) at about 8 o'clock in the morning. i spent my sleepless night reorganizing and adding to my already over-abundant myspace picture collection (check it out, leave some comment luv q-ties!!!!). i've looked for every on sale pair of jeffrey campbell shoes i could find. this will tie into how i got over my emotional melt down, more on that later.
i, again, bid on things on ebay i surely don't need, or really want, for that matter. i've accidentally won one.
i bid $100 on an "XRATED SWATCH" with 7 days left, just to be a prick... also i secretly hoped i'd win, because i've always wanted one.
i texted people looking for any sort of attention. i talked anyone's ear off who accidentally listened.
i tossed and turned. but i didn't sleep.
fine.
i fell asleep at 8 am, i woke up at one. i trekked, yes, trekked, into the living room. set up camp. cans of coke, laptop, phone, pillow to elevate my trench foot.

i called my dad. he agreed to come over for a bit. to assess the situation and to bring me unscented sensitive skin soap and lotion. and a new loofah. he swears i need a new loofah. i don't. i told him if he's going to get me one, it has to be some sort of hard color, like black. yelling the word "loofah" is hilarious.
if you find loofah's even half as funny as i do, you should check out the loofah setup debbie has. holy shit.

i ordered sticky rice. it was a total bust. i hate eating alone. i hate eating food alone that you know is supposed to be awesome but it just is whatever.

i found my 15 year old cousins "new album" on myspace. it is entitled "smoke session" and it is all pictures of her hitting a bong. hey, chalk another one up, ya know?

i dealt with some personal relationship (or lack thereof) issues. not well, by any means. and then i decided to take a shower.

this is dramatic. i can't walk. the bottom of my foot is so fucked up and disgusting. i can't stand. fuck taking a shower on one foot, for real. i nearly fell. all the shit i've been reading says "lukewarm" water. gross. freezing ass shower fuck me.
i remember when my showers were just a vehicle to wash and take care of my hair. i want that back.

anyway, after this dramatic shower i got out. i "pat" dry just like the fucking internet says, and i sat down to tackle the worst part... applying a million different lotions and creams to myself.

i've never had a weak stomach. i'd like to think that i'm rarely grossed out and pretty much down for whatever.

it is a very interesting feeling to touch something on your own person and want to throw up.

there are giant welts on the bottom of my foot. and every time i ran my fingers over them to apply this shit that isn't even working, i wanted to vomit. legitimately. it came down to me not knowing if i was in the worst pain of my life, or if i was so disgusted that it hurt. that is not a joke at all. this went on for 10 minutes. me, choking back in the bathroom. sort of crying, but i'm not exactly sure why. etc.


you know, now that i think about it, this shit doesn't even matter. i'm already over it, so much that its hard to even write about. i will say this though, i started crying when i called oliver to see where he was and he went out to dinner without telling me he was even leaving, let alone he was eating. jesus. now that i think about that, i realize that i'm probably just going to get my fucking period soon. hey i might have a flesh eating disease, but at least i'm not totally preggers.


anyway, now i'm not sad anymore, i'm just fuckign pissed. and let em tell you about this fucking twat on ebay. sellign a pair of JEFFREY CAMPBELL "give" flats calling them some mother fucking juicy coutoure sexy flats, oh fuck you. and she says theyre new, shits all worn down and there's no fucking box. so i send this bitch a message, in a nice way. being like, "hey, are these new or used, and i've done some research and i think these are actually jeffrey campbell "give" shoes." but what i should have said was:

"i'll tell you right now, I KNOW THEYRE JEFFREY CAMPBELL and i can get them on 6pm for $33 brand new and youre selling these bogus ass used one for a starting bid of $39.99? fuck you"

because this bitch writes me back and says:

Dear briasalvador,

Hello,
No, these are new and are juicy couture, I;m not sure what they are called.
Thanks

- zzjey

I AM TELLING YOU WHAT THEY ARE CALLED AND YOU ARE AN IDIOT AND I HATE YOU.

i responded still, nicely:

"here look:

http://www.6pm.com/n/p/p/7324864/c/3.html

google jeffrey campbell "give" and this shoe comes up a million
times. plus, im mildly obsessed with jeffrey campbell.
anyway, the label on the heel of the shoe looks worn in your
pictures. it might be worth mentioning because they most
certainly look used. especially with no box or anything. i'm just
asking because i'm interested in purchasing them if theyre used.
but not for $40, when they're available for $34 brand new, with
a box and all.

- briasalvador"


oh fuck this bitch, i was thinking 10 minutes ago that if she lowers that price, ill scoop them up but i don't even like the mother fucking shoes, because what i really want are some jeffrey campbell "pliets" and i need to stop settling for 2nd best. now that's a fucking metaphor for my whole life, or some shit.



FTW


H8 LIFE


MISS YOU.


on being bedridden: [22 Jun 2008|03:24pm]
the only time ive been standing up is to use the washroom, but i'm in a world of hurt so i've been putting that off as much as possible.

it's frustrating to have an ailment that has no definite... not even definite... just a suggestion of a time when it will be over...
you have a broken leg, you have a cast for x amount of weeks... its sucks for the time, but you know itll be over, and you have a vague idea of when.

not with this shit. no sir. its just a debilitating skin condition with no end in sight.

every breath i take tightens up the skin all over my body ever so slightly setting back whatever healing my body has achieved that much. i am frustrated.

i keep bidding on things i dont really want or need on ebay out of sheer boredom. ive been doing anything to take my mind of of the extreme discomfort i'm in.

this is three months now. it comes and it goes and i deal, but its never been this bad and its never made me turn down a trip to chicken run.

ive been reading all sorts of websites, eczema case studies.

common triggers are:
dust mites
pets
cold weather
hot weather
citrus fruit
raw meat
milk
eggs
cheese
certain types of alcohols, specifically grain derived.. isnt that everything?
any fabric other than 100% cotton
soaps with fragrance or dyes
cosmetics with " "
hair products with " "
oh, and my favorite... STRESS.



great. what the fuck am i supposed to eat/wear/use at work/drink/do with my fucking life?

i should just put myself in a fucking bubble.



im just so frustrated. and "stressed" so its only getting worse.

im scheduled to work tomorrow 1130-5. i called in ahead of time.
i'm also scheduled for work and school tuesday through friday. i have to let this heal but i can't afford to take time off.
stress.

i'm just so upset about it. there's nothing i can do. i don't know when it will be over. hate hate hate.


[21 Jun 2008|02:28pm]
i have eczema. all my life i've had it inside my elbows and behind my knees. sometimes if i wear my watch, i get it on my left wrist. fine.

a fews months ago, i developed what i thought was athlete's foot. treating it as such for weeks only made it a million times worse and i was forced to take time off from school and work. having no insurance, i never went to the doctor for it.

i finally buckled and went to the michigan avenue immediate care facility, and for $90, i found out that what i had was not athlete's foot, but actually eczema. fantastic. i already have eczema. i'll just deal with that like i've dealt with it all my life.

not true. having a constant rash on your fucking toes is the worst thing in the world. always being aware of how fucking itchy and uncomfortable you are is terrible.

last night, it engulfed my entire foot. the entire bottom and top of my right foot is an itchy slimy bumpy mass of eczema bullshit.
again, i have taken off school, there's no way in hell i can stand on my feet for 8 hours, i can't even walk.

i feel terrible. i can't bend my toes, my skin is too tight. i can't stop wanting to scratch everything until i'm bleeding everywhere. i know form experience that this will solve nothing and only make it worse. i called my dad crying at 5 in the morning, cursing my mother because this is all her fault.

i will never have kids. i can't believe my mom didn't take into consideration that everyone on her side of the family has this awful bullshit. my mom used to have it on the tops of her feet and i always thought that sucked. well, now i do. and i fucking hate her. every step is a reminder of why my mother is a fucking bitch. 4 kids! why would you have so many god damn kids who are going to have this terrible skin disease. i guess my other sisters only have flare-ups sometimes. i always fucking have it. i always have some weirdy rash that everyone thinks its necessary to point out. 'oh my, what happened to your arm... you have a rash!' i know! you fucking idiot, i'm obviously aware of this giant patch of itchy bumpy red fucking skin. how could i ot already know about it, i hate you.


anyway. i stayed home from school. i'm stressed, which is only making it worse. and i want a fucking melvins burger from kuma's but i DONT WANT TO PUT ANY SHOES ON BECAUSE I'D RATHER DIE.


LIFE IS PAIN, BRO.

god whatever who fucking cares, it'll go away and i won't think about it anymore... but right now i just want to cut my fucking limbs off.

son of a bitch


p.s. i just called oliver a fag and then instantly starting choking on my own spit. karma's a bitch.