why I hated driving in L.A.

so ummm... blogging? also soapy joy.

I haven't blogged in a really long time. I'm so fickle about it, blog consistently for a little while and then *poof!* disappear. I think I will give it a shot.

I would like to announce that I have reconnected with my love of making soap bubbles. I started doing it when I was a kid, but I had forgotten how much I love it until recently. I abso-fucking-lutely love making soap bubbles in the shower, it's addictive! I'm not talking your every day suds here. I mean giant soap bubbles. I try to blow them with my hands and then stick them on my skin in funny places.

The best one to do is the "third boob" trick. It's fun, and it makes me laugh every single time! What's better than making a third boob out of a soap bubble in the shower and then giggling about how much it looks like a real boob*? All I can say is not much. Pure. Joy. Although my most impressive soap bubble body addition trick is probably the "giant baby belly" bubble. (Say THAT three times fast...) That one is hard to do, but it's gratifying to make such a big bubble, and becomes even more so the longer I can get it to stay there without popping.

It's kind of the same satisfaction you get from blowing a really big bubble with gum, except more exciting and soapy, and requires less effort once you nail the technique. The other awesome thing about giant soap bubbles is if you're careful you can move them around and pick them up in your hands, play with them, and then stick 'em back on. Sometimes I like just making a big one and passing it back and forth between my hands until it pops. I am probably wasting a lot water playing with soap in the shower, but it makes me so very happy... guilty pleasure I guess.


*If the boob were on, like, a unicorn or something... it's all transparent and iridescent and made out of a giant soap bubble n'stuff.

try, I try, try, try, try, try
till I cry, cry, cry, cry, cry
wish I could die

I let out a sigh
and look to the sky
asking god why
why I'm alive

why am I alive?
why am I alive?
why am I alive?
why am I alive? ect....

edit: I wrote this post/song when I was deeply depressed. Sorry for the bummer, but hey man, for every drop of glee in me there's a drop of *worlds smallest violin* boo-hoo-hoo hiding in there somewhere too. It's gotta come out sometimes or I'd probably explode. Or implode. One of those things.

Dear Land-Lady (If that really IS your name...)

Was that you that just knocked on my door randomly? Again? Let's talk about this. Can you PLEASE NOT DO THAT? Every time you knock on our door, one of three scenarios lead me to not answer.

I am usually:

A. Asleep, or,
B. Nude, or,
C. DO NOT WANT TO TALK TO YOU.

Please consider leaving a note or something like a normal Land-Lady, or I will be forced to continue to make fun of you for taking mushrooms and going to Bonaroo.

Kthanxbye,

Devo