greetings, jerkwads. this is what i've done while you losers beat off to judge judy:

chili flavored ramen > everything.

so... being around homeboy's friends after extensive efforts of making me feel like a drunken ass in front of them the last million times we've been out with them menos xmas eve was... interestingly awkward... but i really mean just straight-up awkward.

jetted to hooli's to get schwasted off melon shots of something. worst. mistake. ever.



i remember being locked out of my house and losing a sock while taking a piss in the front yard. it happens. holding the title of beauty and grace is a rough roll. bust a nigga a break.

also, i lost a sock last night while peeing in my front yard. anyone?

so mengtar is done with everyone.

locked out of house and todos dicen fuck you. but racetracmx attempts at helpin brothas out.

but homies show no love cuz sleepin with bitches.

done and done.

((done))

sometimes life's biggest challenge is making it through the night...

without pooping your pants.

i fucking hate people.

a fucking 3am fake suicide phone call? seriously??!!

also, you are officially added to the list of people i hate.

jason stephens called me at 3am with a million apologies and some attention-craving lie about taking a couple dozen sleeping pills along with a half bottle of gin.

insta-panic.

i'm not nearly stable enough to lose another friend.

i call every mutual friend i know. and even encourage them to call crazy mary.

meet up with hx at applebees where i watch him talk to jason stephens whom is being a fucking dick and then go to ix's apartment even though he hadn't been answering his phone for hours, but he happened to awake at 4am and answered the door in about 20 seconds as i cried outside and gave me a hug while explaining that i had just been faux-suicide played by his own friend.

but he was still able to yell at me an hour and a half after his initial phone call where he pretended to be fading out.

you won't give out your plano address and i cannot help you avoid your artificial suicide attempt.

and then your bitch girlfriend, crazy mary, calls about that one text message i sent her six months ago about sucking his dick... zero concern for his life.

i'm done with all of you fucking assholes.

a summary of antics: drunk and sober.

highlight of xmas was a series of 29 text messages from dadx reading the night before christmas... line. by. line. ((love))

it ended with drunken drama and the end of an era. but with no hard feelings, i have mild confidence that a friendship is plausible... but i do love lying to myself. we will see.



the next day at work, i was so angry and anxious that i told all of my shitty tables that the dog dies at the end of marley and me. i cried a little and edx drew me this...



i like my hair... and the spanish exclamation points...

i was able to successfully cower in school-girl awkwardness when the guy i've had a crush on for two years smiled and waved at me last night. i ran to mAx with a "what do i do?? do i talk to him? what would i say? i'm so nervous. i need to sit down. maybe i should have said hi. or smiled back. or acknowledged that i remember him at all. no, cowering was definitely my best move... stop judging me." it was decided that after my drink i would order a shot, order another drink, order two shots ((one for him)) and that would be my entrance... he left before i finished my drink.

social contact epic failure number 2348974587343483.

i got my first xmas present today! my aunt had actually sent it to my old apartment... i thought it was game over, but the tenants of university courtyards apartment 9304 gave it to the office to sit for a week before being returntosendered. i left them a thankyounote. yesidid.



and sketch gear! i'll post all of my shitty sketches. i think i'll do a series of nekkid girls.

even though i was working up a good eating disorder... I ATE SUSHI... yes, first time. i usually chicken out... the homeses and i rolled to royal east for some bibim bop and our server was also the singer for 800lbs. i think my other friend drums for her... but i couldn't remember.

a week of insomnia and a day of delerium, my eyelids are heavy.

exciting as the buildup before an orgasm.

goodnight, world. we will discuss your methods upon my awakening.

horrible experiences, painful and demeaning.

but after the bottle of pinot noir, i was able to sleep... dreamlessly... for two hours.

cuddled upon request for about 30 seconds before being pushed away twice and called the wrong name.


meet mengtar.

drove home just in time to see my nearly300lb. roommate sleeping naked on the couch in a puddle of his own sweat with a puke-bucket next to him... in my fucking minnesota twins blanket. don't you own a fucking bed??!!!

that thing has persevered through gaybuttsex and fatty puke. twinkies, i'm sorry texas disgraces your name. one day, i will make it up to you.

once i work myself past exhaustion and into delerium, i will give a content smile and talk to a stranger and dance.

also, i saw oldhistoryteacherfromtwoyearsagox ((great teacher, had an A, dropped the class)) at jupiter house yesterday morning and he said, "hi, mengtar." we haven't spoken or made eye contact since i dropped. i almost cried. i was also on vicodin and wasn't sure how to say hi back. he's there from 7-9am ((hours before my prime snooze-button marathon)) on most weekdays. i've never had the balls to say hi. just last month we moved up to making eye contact.

i secretly hope that one day i'll sit down and tell him all of my problems, and he will solve them, because he's old and wise, and then he'll introduce me to his handsome grandson that may or may not exist.

i didn't stand a chance at asking.

and i knew you'd never offer.

so tomorrow i will scream as the needle goes in and grip the hand of a veteran.

a stranger.

and i will still be empty.

two days later they will read the results, and i will cry either way.





but i might sleep after, and that's good enough.

nuttso insomnia dream number 3 that happened to creep into my hourandahalf of sleep...

everyone was a zombie and we ran to hx's house and i had to shoot all my friends in the head so i wouldn't be zombied but then in the end i pussied out because i didn't want to live in a zombie world running for my life until forever because my defense moves don't compare to alice from resident evil, even when visions of sugarplums dance in my head, so i shot myself as the room was filled with the undead eating my innards.



le sigh...

how long til i'm normal? never? okay.

yet another nuttso insomnia dream: i murdered dadx and a baby and hid the bodies.

also, i need a haircut, but vx is booked through next week. i guess that means i should buy more wine.

today is tv field trip day!!

i watched the destruction of the rca dome...



and on what not to wear ((i swear it was just on while i was blogging... right... whatever)) they found a lady in chicago's freedom museum.



i rock being places.

also, in my nuttso insomnia week, i slept long enough last night to have a shitty dream about breaking my favorite necklace and spiders crawling out of the pile of hair on my bed and formed into one big spider.



i was going to be catchy and follow this story with 8 pictures of big spiders. i got as far as doing a google image search for big spiders and then almost cried.

okay, i'm done pouting. ((this is totally a lie. i'm just bored with not blogging))

ended my semester and dadx is paying for my next semester on account of him being a rockstar.

everyone NEEDS to play the worst game ever: go right.

spoiler alert!!! ((but, i swear, you should play it first))

***OFFICIAL WALK THROUGH COLON GO RIGHT!!***

go right for a few moments.
jump over the ball.
go right until the three minute point. look, a tv.
go right until the six minute point. jump over six balls.
go right until the sixteen minute point. jump over the ball. jump over the pit.
go right until the seventeen minute point. attack the boss.
go right for eighteen more minutes. look, another tv.

also, there is catchy music and a guy that tells you about his brother with cancer. how heartwarming.

i'm unable to count last night's mistakes on one hand. and that's without remembering where all these fucking bruises came from. there may have been a gang at the drag show.

check your knuckle sandwiches at the door, please, this is family entertainment.



kx bought glasses today.

mengtar said:

did you hear what the eye-glasses lady said to me?

kx said:

that she liked your hair?

mengtar said:

yeah. my greasy hangoverlor hair. how nice of her.

kx said:

she's probably required to say that and is now talking about what a bitch you are.


i rocked the last game of my rookie soccer season. two weeks off, and then viva los traviesos!

i've been at jupiter house for over six hours and have managed to avoid contact with all strangers.

mengtar 1, awkward 0.

also, world lit, we are done.

i woke up in a daze of hyper-cuddled dehydration... hungoverlor!

on account of yesterday's schedule, i sustained on a million coffees and an onion bagel with sundried tomato cream cheese. ((worth it))

i would sign contracts to eat NOTHING ELSE but ONLY ONE of those every day for the rest of my life they are so amazing! quick! everyone don't go to jupiter house and buy them otherwise they might be sold out... they were almost out of my cream cheese but turns out they're liars and it was bountiful.

i read hamlet.

some dumb boy ((i will totally remember your face when i see you walking around the mall with a girl on your arm and call you out on this!!!)) clogged up the toilet in jupiter's bathroom. it is possible this was done strictly of malice and spite.

post-hamlet, i schizo-ed to andy's for some whiskey to settle the effects of the coffee. seems logical.

i drank myself less angry and fell in love with some dude that probably only sings well when i drink. i'm okay with this.

i returned home, but not before losing my wallet. this is key...

feeling particularly anxious, yet still unaware of the absence of my moneyfolder, i crept ((stumbled)) to the bathroom for a chillpill ((yes, those are real)) that may or may not mix well with alcohol.

UPDATE: i checked the label, and, no, they do not mix well with alcohol.

i was awoken hours later with an extreme longing to vomit, but realized that if i spew, i will undoubtedly poop my pants.

((to be continued))

last night: boiler room karaoke semifinals.

i showed up just in time to not see anyone i know sing, but with enought time for a few shots, rumandcokes, and to get propositioned by a lesbian and possibly a threeway. rough call, there was tricky wording.

r2x said:

you know that black girl behind me?

mengtar said:

yeah?

r2x said:

she thinks you're really cute and wanted to know if you were a lesbian. i told her you were my sister and weren't into that.


i think after that i fumbled his phone onto the floor, gave an awkward hug, and glided up the stairs with oh-so-much grace.

((thanks for not making me talk to her. r2x is great until he is not))

alas, i went home with my impulse-buy racetrack coffee ((compliments the whiskey)) to spend the evening neatly ((compulsively)) arranging and re-arranging my blankets and pillows until i finally fell asleep.

happy dead week!