as you may or may not recall, a silent oath was taken 6 months ago today.

here's how it all went down... former roommate mx moved out quite a while ago... several months to be exact. but weeks prior to his move ((possibly even singular)) he bought a $400 gold's gym workout thinger that has not moved or been used since. when he was informed that if it wasn't picked up by the time kx left for drum corps tour ((a week)) that it would be sold, he seemed more worried about the ladder he left behind...

this ladder...



so cx and i devised a plan...



she grabbed the ladder while i found my shoes.



i had to open the hatch ((lost terminology)) because i'm not short.




now would be a good time to take note that i am climbing into an attic sans shoes...



but cx has my back.




up, up and up!



aha! the perfect hiding place!



i haven't seen cx this engrossed with satisfaction since faux-gving.



we rehearsed for mx's interrogations... what ladder?



there may have been an accomplice... but he was mostly there for moral support. but wait... now that there's no ladder... how do i get down???



the multi-purpose love-sac.



i could have broken my neck, but i like to live dangerously. and comfortably.



greatness. ((just turn your head, dummy!))

mengtar said:

bkx, are you going to spot me?

bkx said:

yes, i'm here to spot you.

mengtar said:

were you ever in gymnastics or cheerleading?

bkx said:

.... i was in marching band...?

kx has left for a summer on tour with the madison scouts. ((but i secretly have money on him coming home in a month on injury))

i played dress-up today in bkx's zoot-suit and fedora. it was basically amazing... ignore the mess... everywhere.






so last night in all of it's glory started out with me gimping out to boiler room to catch the hickory street hellraisers. i was immediately called out by this older guy who has seen me before. "you're the baseball girl!" ((as a matter of fact, i AM the baseball girl)) he's foreign ((don't know from where)) and is kind of cool to talk to. but then he got over-complimenting and asked me for my number and i gave him a fake ((obvs)) and i'm glad he didn't try to call me right away or i would have had to bolt to the ladies' room and call homeboy to make sure he wasn't stalking me from outside the bathroom door.

but i remember last time i was happy to talk to him because i was drunk and he gave me a legit compliment: my outfit was classy. it was.



this pose was supposed to be me selling bootleg rolexes on the street... brooklake street... but instead it turned out to be creepy stripper. hat angles and the intsensity of the part in your hair mean everything.



if only i had a bigger collar to pop. le sigh.



featuring the latest design in pimp-wear... wrap-around pants! so the legs remain baggy and your pants stay up so you can keep your cane in one hand and your bitches throat in the other.



this was supposed to be my badass pose, but ended up looking like an attempted sexy pose. special note: i don't have a sexy pose.



i ((don't)) like to think that the type of people who approach me in public are the same type of people who read my blog.

the type of people who read my blog are...
unattractive older men that are not rich
drug addicts that will overdose soon
obnoxiously artsy college students whose art i don't like
attractive similar-aged college students who have a major red-flag malfunction like 2 kids or axe murderer or foot fetishes

on my way home i got a flat tire. beautiful. and my trip to LA was just in reach! now i need tires. ((fuck my life))



this is the face of everything awesome, and that is all you ever need to know.



i have a million things to do tomorrow, but instead i think i'll go teach drum corps.