Real Talk: Creepy Dudes

I really suck at dudes. I'm also a very nice person, and I don't like to say no (to certain things). This poses a problem.

For those of you Tiggles blog readers who don't know, I work in a mall skate shop. Its a fun atmosphere and I like almost everyone I work with (sans the n00b who thinks that minor threat and bad brains didn't influence one single band in current music...we'll save him for another blog.) For the most part, our customers are largely males (no duh) thus making my end of the job fairly easy. All I have to do is take off my hoodie to expose my tattoos, smile, give my opinion on whatever-it-is, and we're good to go. But sometimes, the sale will end with this:

"oh, so uhm, you forgot to give me your phone number..."

Instantly, I'm put on the spot. How the fuck am I supposed to respond to that? With a boldfaced lie? Sure, I could tell the dude I'm married. Or have a boyfriend. But I'm sure the look on my face will give it away that I am lying through my teeth. I am a horrible liar. So I end up giving them my fucking cell phone number, only to have them text me 10 minutes later with things like "Thank you for taking so long to ring me up. I couldn't help but stare at your beautiful face."

wap wap wap....HOW. CHEESY. IS. THAT. I only took so long because our registers are ancient. I'm also new and have no fucking clue how to use them so don't flatter yourself muchacho.

Now, I won't call or text this person ever. They can call and text and leave messages all they want, but it's more than likely never going to happen. For the past 2 weeks, I've been getting texts (including the one above) and phone calls from some dude I met last week who I'm sure is a really nice, fun guy, but I have ZERO interest in him or any other dude right now. (If you only knew the drama that has unfolded in my life over the past 6 months...) Also, I am probably 2 inches taller than him and I love to wear 4" heels so he's out by default. I won't compromise my amazonian tendencies for anyone.

Anyway, I got word that two days ago, he came into my work LOOKING FOR ME. come the fuck on. If I have not returned your texts or phone calls, something should be telling you that I don't want to hang out with you. Why do guys do this? Why must you come into my place of employment and look for me? This makes me mad. I feel like I'm trying to break up with a creepy obsessive boyfriend. Dudes need to also learn that if they want a girl to hang out with them, it's probably not the best idea to continuously attempt to get in contact with them. The same night the dude came into my work, HE CALLED ME. AGAIN. WHY.

which brings me to my next dude-qualm...

By birthing default, I'm Jewish. I wasn't raised Jewish, but my grandmothers certainly were, and they know how to lay the Jewish Guilt on like no one's bizz. So much so, that I've basically become immune to it. So tell me why anytime I do something a dude doesn't like, he has to make sure to try to make me feel guilty? I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not your sister. I'm not your mama. There is no reason why I need a 3 page text from anyone on this planet (maybe uranus..lololz) telling me why I'm an asshole and a bad person for not hanging out last week/not going to their show/not walking their dog/not buying you a milkshake/not traveling to mars/etc...I am just trying to life my life for myself BY MYSELF and I am still plagued by guilt soaked conversations from people with penises. I thought I was supposed to be the one giving guilt trips? I'm the one with a vagina here. There is no sand in mine, so maybe you should take a shower to rinse it out of your mangina. And believe me, I will not hesitate to set you straight. I lived with it for a year and walked away from it scott (or danny) free, and it doesn't take much to place someone on the "do not answer" list in my phone.

So, dudefriends, please refrain from being a pesky ex-non-boyfriend. I enjoy hanging out but one day I'm going to throw my sidekick at a wall, and when it breaks, I will make the person who sent that text message/called me one too many times buy me a BB Curve. and then I will block their number.

EVERYONE GO TO THIS TONIGHT! I modified the flyer for everyone who was too lazy to do so. I feel that my flyer is better than the original:

GOOD DUDE, BACKED HARD.

my dad is the best dude ever. never lets me down, always keeps promises and knows how to have a good time. tonight i went to a dodgers game with him, and by the 7th inning, dodgers hadn't even scored a home run. he turns to me and says, "hey, this sucks. lets go to yankee doodles and play pool." on the way home from the bar, i played air guitar to panama and breakin' the law while he sang and played air keyboard. rules.

BRB, CHILLING ON AN ICEBERG.

yesterday morning i woke up at 8:30am with a stuffy nose and one goal in mind: to get my back as tan as my stomach.
naturally i'm porcelain white. transparent. totally see-thru. but the sun and the so cal weather + my genes have been pretty kind to me lately, and now i'm a nice cafe au late. i can't complain.

i drove into the valley to pick up essa and jayme from the chateau, and emily had just woken up and was getting ready.i reminded everyone to bring sunscreen even though it was going to be overcast. we got in my car and drove through death canyon aka topanga canyon listening to kid dynamite and laughing about things that hardcore girls laugh about when they are in a group.

when we got through the canyon, it was disgustingly overcast and cold, so we made a pitstop at subway for $5.00 footlongs aka 6" sandwiches on weird bread. while eating, i noticed a store called "millionaire mutts" right next door, so we decided after we were done eating, we'd go in there to see if they had puppies. and they did. cute fat little baby bulldogs. a frenchie and an old english. the old english waved at me, and we contemplated taking the puppies and running.

finally we arrived at glorious zuma 7, and the fun began.

i ran out of SPF4, so i put SPF15 on the ditches of my knees and thought nothing of it. everyone else was busy applying their SPF15 or 50. i was almost confident i wouldn't get that burnt since i'm already tan. we laid in the sand and listened to the same french song on a loop, until we went to get ice cream from FOOD and emily asked the guy (who was nice to only me because of my tattoos) if he had any "bob marley music".
we saw dolphins, lurked on people and discussed blackout moments from posi numbers, sound and fury and other random shows and made fun of essa's english. we were all convinced we had not gotten any color, but kept asking each other if we were red. finally, it was getting cold, so we asked a couple of boys who were sitting in front of us if they could take some photos.

i gave the kid sitting in the background some lessons on being a creep because as you can see, he clearly doesn't know how to be "that guy" in the background of pictures. you can also see FOOD in that picture.

we packed up and left zuma 7, and stopped for gas.$8.00 bought me two gallons. talk about rape! when i got out to get gas, everyone gasped in horror. "OH MY GOD, YOUR LEGS ARE BRIGHT RED!" and then i felt it. I got back in the car, and we drove home listening to lots of slipknot and korn. i am very comfortable with myself.

when we got back to the chateau, we actually examined our sunburns. we all look like we are wearing diapers. imagine if someone slapped you in the same spot underneath your butt with a pingpong paddle for 5 hours and thats what this feels like. i'm more than positive i won't be wearing pants or attending any beach or daytime pool parties for the next two weeks.




in this picture, you can see where i ran out of SPF. there's an actual splatter mark. also, i know that i am not the skinniest person alive, and this is not the best face i have ever made. yeah yeah, crack kills.

i went home and procrastinated showering for at least 2 hours because i knew how painful it would be. i ended up taking a luke warm bath which was okay, and then i applied this aloe spray we have in my household. aloe spray is working wonders. it's an instant fix and it feels incredible when spraying it on. my only qualm is that it is a little sticky.
i went to dinner with my grandma and then hung out with luis and hector. by this time, i was feeling not so great. i came home, popped some benedry allergy, applied more aloe spray, and went to bed propped up on 2 pillows.

this morning i woke up feeling extra crispy, and decided i'm not doing anything today because i look like this:

at least that gnarly sunburn will turn into a bodacious tan. and then i will have to even out my stomach and chest to match. no thanks.

what do you say to this?

Today I am waiting in line at coffee bean for my Ultimate Ice Blended Mocha with no whip, while furiously twittering my thumbs on the old SK id (most likely talking shit to BCC). I'm wearing a white halter top, black tube top underneath and cut off jean shorts that are a reasonable length. There's a nerdy older dude standing next to me with a target bag full of "health food", and he is very obviously burning a hole into my body with his 4eyes. I'm obviously pretending not to notice, so I don't look up. Who wants to have a conversation about dia de los muerto skulls at 10am? Not me. I actually never want to have a conversation about them.

"Sorry for staring", says nerdy dude.


At least he apologized.

viva la mexico!

my memory is that of an old person. it goes in and out. mostly i forget the good things that happen, so i'm writing them all down while i still can.

terror did a string of CA dates one weekend before going to Mexico. Brooke and i had this brilliant idea (again with the brilliant ideas) to go down to tijuana with big zack and dre. the car ride was a long one with cameos by cock sparrer and guns n roses, and a rest stop in dana point to pee.
we parked the escape at the border of America, went to the duty free store for i don't remember what (probably diet coke and the biggest bottle of Bacardi they had) , and crossed the border to enter what might be one of the sketchiest nights of my life.

we hailed a cab and the driver was a young dude playing some terrible rap music. i remember looking at Brooke and holding on for dear life and thinking to myself "i am not going to make it out alive tonight."
we arrived at the venue, which was right next to a liquor store. in Mexico, 19 is old enough to buy alcohol, so fuck yea. i bought a bottle of oso negro which broke my bank at a whopping $8.00 (and may i add..shit was like, the grey goose of Mexico) and a sprite. Brooke bought a large sol which tasted identical to blood. we sat outside the venue and drank for a long time. andy appeared randomly. we made phone calls on our cell phones (internationally), sang a song about the sketchy black bag, zack put nick jett and Brooke on his shoulders, and before we knew it, terror went on.

now, i don't remember ANYTHING during terror. but after terror, i peed on the sidewalk around a corner and everyone took turns trying to wipe my drawn on eyebrows off. if my memory suits me, i was asking people FOR A SHARPIE. when in Mexico, do as the Mexicans do.

some stuff happened between then and the time we got to the hong kong bar, but I'm not really sure. Tijuana is loud and dirty and smells like ghetto dogs. man, fuck onions. they're so gross. i remember alot of hookers standing in doorways. i especially remember alot of sol being drank at the hong kong bar. i think someone successfully wiped off my eyebrows, so i went upstairs and used an AIDS eyeliner from a stripper/hooker to draw my brows back on. of course i sharpened it first. what are ya, stupid or somethin'?

Brooke and i were sitting with a stripper (i think), when all of a sudden a sketchy blurry faced man with a Polaroid in hand comes up behind us and said "hey, can i take a picture of you guys?"
i turned around and pointed to dre and zack and said "HEY! GO ASK THEM!"
apparently an altercation happened where this man asked zack if he could purchase me and Brooke. "how much for your girls?" he asked. zack's (obvious) reply: "they're not for sale."
I've heard a few versions of this story. one has him and his posse threatening with a knife. one has him and his posse threatening with a gun. one has him threatening to come back with his posse and then he comes back with his posse and flashes a gun and asks zack again how much it would be to purchase us. either way, this dude fucking tried to purchase us and that is wild.

oh i should mention that somewhere in this, Luis got naked with not one but two strippers in shaving cream and there is a Polaroid of it. Brooke also had a conversation in spanish with another stripper and rumor has it, put her face in her vagina. i do not believe that for one second.

we left hong kong bar after Brooke and Luis slow danced and Brooke asked me for a hairtye. i couldn't walk anymore; i was officially Ralph status. for those of you who don't know Ralph, i was blacked out. i probably did a bunch of jump twirls, talked alot of shit and probably almost got someone beaten up.

when we got to the border, i was so afraid i wouldn't get back across to America. i remember that i rehearsed in my head how to say "the united states of America" over and over. of course, when the guard asked me, there was absolutely no doubt that my stupid idiot drunk ass was from the USA.

on the way home (which i am assuming was around 4am), i asked Brooke for mcdonalds. once we got it, i vomited. so much for the fucking fries or hashbrowns or whatever the fuck it was. i passed out all the way home and felt like a royal dick head the entire day. i will never go to Tijuana again unless a large man i am friends with (that i know will take care of me) comes with.

hangovers suck. hong kong bar, on the other hand, does not.

brooke shit on a rock!

brooke and i are leaving warped tour 2006 at the Ventura country fairgrounds. we stayed and hung out at the after party, so we had had a few drinks. i don't really know who let us leave, but someone did. we're walking back to my car, and Brooke lets me know she has to shit.

"well, can you wait til we get home?"
"no i have to fucking go now."
"where are you gonna shit?"
"right here...on this fucking rock!"
"what are you gonna wipe your ass with?"
"THIS LEAF!"

you know that shitty shrubbery thats outside like, doctors offices and malls? the really succulent leaf bushes. yeah, she wiped her ass with one of those leaves.

i don't remember getting home that night. all i know is that we got home, and nothing that stupid will ever happen again.

attack of the cholas

i worked for MAC Cosmetics for 2 years. i'd say about 98% of our customers were hispanic women. most of them were ignorant as fuck. most of them did not speak any english. i'd say i've learned more spanish in my time working at MAC than i did in Spanish I or II in high school.

a girl named M who used to work at my counter went up to a chola shopping for a brown lipliner. in her hand, she held 'teddy' eyeliner which is a dark shimmery brown color. eyeliners are not recommended for the lip area because there is an ingredient in them that may be harmful if ingested.

m: "hey hun did you need some help?"
chola: "i'm looking for a dark brown lip liner"
m: "well, thats an eyeliner. it's not safe for the lip area. if you ingest it, it might make you sick."
chola: "so, my stomach knows whats for my eyes?"

what am i REALLY doing?

i am the first person to poke fun of myself. after like, 9 years of having a livejournal, i'm gonna wear my big girl pants and jump on the bandwagon that is blogging @ blogspot.
ever get annoyed when girls you're friends with say "oh, my life!" well, i'm one of those girls. sometimes shit happens and i can't fucking believe it. so, i'm going to document these things.

my grandmother is the worst. my mom's mom. i'll probably talk about her a whole lot. if i prayed, i'd pray to god i am not like her when i get old. she's 67, grouchy, self centered, naggy, embarassing and most of all she is ALONE. as in, divorced. as of 3 years ago. who gets divorced when they're old? dying alone doesn't sound like too much fun. don't get me wrong. i love grandma but she is only cool to hang out with for maybe 5 hours tops. thank god she lives in florida so i don't have to see her too often.

anyway, when i was 15 years old, i went christmas shopping with her (yes, jews celebrate christmas) at the promanade mall. i'm very observant, so i pointed out this very happy go lucky asian man walking across the street. "grandma, look how happy that guy looks!" i said to her. she turned to me, looked me dead in the eyes and said "WHO GIVES A SHIT?!" my jaw dropped.

imagine if marge simpson's mother had a perma-cold and a jersey accent.

fuck.