She Is Hope.

Walking down the main street of our city, making my way to the usual happy hour spot, I can't help but notice the weather very much matches the mood of the nation.

Only a few days have passed since the bombings At this point, one of the perpetrators is still at large. The city street mimicks a dreary scene in a Fitzgerald novel.  Our nation's and state's flaggs whip wildly in the piercing cold winds as mist droplets collect on my eyeglass lens.

I reach the corner where a light is about to change. Above me the flags whip violently in the vicious winds.  The outlines of the city buildings fade into the grey sky.  The flags are fighting against the wi to keep their vibrant colors, a symbol of our nation's pride.

A blue luxuary car, no longer in its full glory, sheepishly pulls up to the still changing light. It contains a family, mom behind the wheel with dad navigating from the front passanger seat.  Their child is in the back seat looking out the window with an age-appropriate childlike curiosity.  She is watching the outside world from the safety of her family's car with the same wide-eyed facination of an astronaut peering through her shuttle window.  The air isn't icey against her skin. The winds aren't biting at her cheeks. The outside world is still a marvelous wonder, even on this crap day. She is safe. She is warm and dry.   And she is willing to share a friendly smile and a polite wave with a complete stranger who is waiting for their car to pass.

I'm Sorry, Canada

I made a Canadian joke in an earlier post and I've since notice my fan base drop from that delightful country. So if I offended anyone, I am sorry. I'm not gonna remove the post- mostly because I'm not gonna go looking for it, but you all should know I love for you guys. Your country has it's own bacon for Christmas' sakes!


So, we cool? Yea, we cool.

Dedicated to the man I love

Ode to my fake boyfriend.

Though non-existent, he always seems to be there for me. . .like when some creepshow asks me if I have a boyfriend,

"Yup, he's huge, Black, angry, and licensed in 23 out of the 50 states."



Cheers.

Ridiculously high standards

I've decided to filter out the hum-drum and the boring, the undeserving and the "are you serious?" candidates by having ridiculously high standards.



-I want our first over-night encounter to be like the one between Emma Stone's and Ryan Gosling's characters in Crazy, Stupid Love.

-He must be as ridiculously suave, wealthy, and entertaining as Ryan Gosling's character in Crazy, Stupid Love.

-He must have Ryan Gosling's build as it is showcased in the Dirty Dancing scene in Crazy, Stupid Love, but on a 6'2" or taller frame.

-He must be AT LEAST bilingual: French and/or Spanish preferred.

Yes, I'm watching Crazy, Stupid Love while writing this post.


*Addendum: Preferably not  of any immediate Canadian descent (no offense to my Canadian fans; I've just had bad experiences with your kind.)


Unfortunately, that last requirement knocks Ryan Gosling out of the running, but it also eliminates JBiebs, so it's worth it.

That is all.

Don't feed the models! *fashion models

Just had chocolate cake for breakfast before my art gig.




                                                       BOOM  
                                                                             Art model win!!!

Feeling invincible

Just ran into my ex, sober and not with my car. If I can survive that while keeping (some) face, I am invincible.

Top hat.

Motherf*cker on the bus, no lie, was wearing 1) ergonomic shoes, windbreaker pants and jacket black and red respectively, lion's main printed shirt, and (wait for it) the finest motherf*cking camel colored velvet hat with white, chocolate colored ribbon detail.


Get on his level.

....NEXT!

Tonight I just literally ran away from the most physically attractive, intelligent, successful (read: it ain't trickin' if you got it), fine chocolate specimen of a man I believe I will ever encounter. . .



That must tell you a lot about his personality.