tony romo and i play at the same indoor soccer facility. huh...



cleaning outfit.



extravagant dinner outfit. the difference is in the booty.



why, hello. you must be friends!



an incomplete list of reasons i suck this semester:



quarters at the nx/k-hox residence



justice league



peanut butter jelly time



bad influences

an incomplete list of mistakes i made making banana bread:

forgot to buy chocolate chips. replaced with cinnamon. meh.

doubled the amount of bananas thinking it wouldn't make a difference. guess it does.

while waiting for the entire interior of banana mush to solidify, i forgot it was still in the oven... fucking adult swim...

filled up on sandwiches beforehand, no room for burned/mushy banana bread.

also, i was supposed to be studying and writing a rough draft.

mengtar's evening plans:

work
study at jupiter house
sleep

mengtar's evening actions so far:

work
drinks at loophole
beer, badminton, and hackie sac
sushi
study at jupiter house, still more than buzzed...

productive? we'll see.

also, an incomplete list of things i will buy with my ten thousand dollars courtesy of the irs...

camera

drano

qtips

homebound plane tickets

las angeles plane tickets

canvases

liquor

fruit baskets ((to be mailed to myself))

phone

pet rat

oil change ((edit: i still have a free oil change courtesy of ford))

2 h&m outfits ((for photographing))

soccer ball

boots

ten banana cream pies




((miss me? you've been fed))

after class i stopped by target to pick up some necessities.

deoderant.

toilet paper.

shampoo.

part one of three of my halloween costume.

beer.

like making a selection at jupiter house, i stood in the beer aisle for a good ten minutes before deciding on sam adams octoberfest brew.

amazing.

it has a very warm autumn flavor that reminds you of sitting outside on warm autumn nights with oak and pine grazing your senses...

i've never been so sexually aroused by a beverage... ever.

amazing.

happy 700. i'm over it.

my identity has officially been stolen... again.

can't i just belong to myself for a fucking minute?

whatever. i'm just going to sit here in my clothesplosion of a bedroom and list off things i hate in order to improve the quality of procrastination for writing my gilgamesh essay. balls.

stealers
liars
eric novotney
people that bring their crotch spawn to restaurants
white people with dread locks
nick cannon
shrimp

so there's a girl at work that mAx and i are not fond of. she ordered a shrimp alfredo and told mAx he could have some. he rushed me to the table so we could eat all of the shrimp ((and only the shrimp)) out of the dish before she returned.

i threw it up. i knew i didn't like shrimp, but i think i'm allergic.

way gross.

i'm not allowed to leave my house until i finish cleaning my room ((yes, it's that bad)). but i find myself playing on my laptop and pouting because i STILL haven't found my sweatshirt of ultimate comfort that i got in chicago more than actually cleaning...

but this is what i DID find:
momx's creamed salmon recipe
two dead crickets
dirty panties
four half-finished crossword puzzles
twenty-two og beverage coasters

i want some pop.

but i don't have to be overly-productive. it will be yet another night of insomnia.

if i'm lucky and stop blogging, the bars will still be open by the time i'm done cleaning my room, and i'm feeling forward enough to talk to strangers enough to let them buy me drinks.

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.

i was so crabby about my afternoon run sucking so bad that i decided to run again after work... another shitty run time.

but highlights of tonights run were:
mengtar not looking both ways before crossing the street and almost getting obliterated by a semi.
mengtar getting pokey grass stuck in her ankle ((in the dark, mind you)) and screaming "SCORPIONS!" and running to the nearest un-grassy area crying and almost coming to terms with jesus. ((jan would have been so proud))
mengtar forgetting to remove her headband pre-run and then pouting later because it's full of sweat and probably going to be smelly or discolored or something else unpleasant.

i waited on the principle harpist for the dallas symphony orchestra tonight and her husband who was some percussion head back in the day for the university of michigan. when i told her i was still debating going to school for music she said that i should email her a date and she could get me free tickets to the orchestra. ((bballa!)). and her husband invited me to some event that he hosts every december where the wind symphony performs. umm... also sweet. finish with a descently awesome tip and i was a pretty happy mengtar.

after my one week running hiatus, i just had the worst 3-mile run time out of anyone under 500lbs.

highlights of my run:
all of my favorite ill nino songs were played first
i almost run-stepped and more than likely would have squished a dead bird but opted for jerking my body in the other direction, forcing myself to do that crazy cartoon-like stumble where you're leaning waay forward and trying to get your feet to catch up with your body and fell into some tall weeds along university.. someone honked in what i believe to be humored appreciation.
i got stung or bit or shot in the leg. ((woo fun!))
bx drove by, turned around, drove by again to wave, turned around, and then drove past again to ask if i wanted a ride and "say hi, i guess"

also, i'm not allowed to spend any more money... ever.

here is an incomplete list of people who are NOT funny.
homeboy
eric novotney



but he did find my camera. whatever.

that is all.

prepare yourself for a saturday night in the life of being completely awesome.

i have misplaced my camera, but will be live-blogging all of my cooking funness for you this evening to make up for it.

incomplete list of things mengtar is missing:
camera
108 lighters ((to date))
sweatshirt of ultimate comfort as seen in the following photo.
zip-up sweatshirt of mild comfort and ultimate cuteness as seen in the photo following the following photo.




lucky you.

also, kx lied. the passion fruit rum isn't that bad.

tonight's cooking menu: jambalaya.

but i won't be eating it until lunch tomorrow.

so i bought some multi-grain club crackers and pepperjack cheese for my rumandjuice accompaniment.

and i swear, if kx and cx start fucking and i have to listen to them, i'm going to knife them both.

let's cook.

right now you can imagine a photo of me smelling the awesomeness of freshly chopped bell peppers. the appreciation is similar to the way i loved the smell of freshly cut grass before i developed allergies or marched drum corps. also, the background displays some chicken defrosting in the microwave.

the next picture is of them in a bowl that i got for free at an indiana garage sale with the purchase of a t-shirt. the following is a picture of a drunken mengtar in said shirt.



i totally thought i had onions. whatever.

if i was in the movie mind killers ((mind hunters... whatever)) with ll cool j, i would have been killed with pepperjack cheese.

insert photo of my oh-face with a mouth full of pepperjack cheese and crackers while my stove top is full of black smoke because i just burned my chicken... cue smoke alarm.

also, if my roommates were still awake, i would probably include an interaction shot... but as much interaction they would have with me is them taking the picture of me pouring more rum.

smartass starting messaging me and that seemed more important than you fuckers.

also, i would show you a picture of the end result, but the yellow peppers are too visually overbearing so i don't like it. whatever.

if you're lucky, i'll live-blog myself making a bagel in the morning.

happy birthday, homeboy!








and now for an incomplete list of mengtar's likes:

scarves.
obnoxiously large sunglasses.
taking photos.
drinking in the daytime.
photos that i am in.
wrestling with dogs.
best friends.
live music.
recorded music.
blogs that are mine.
things that are frogs.
making soup.

headlights and headlice sound alike but are much different.

boros is back in town. you know what that means? cookies. also, we will go back to the flying saucer in addison before his departure.

here is an incomplete list of mengtar's dislikes:

poor tippers.
non-ballers.
falling bra straps.
doing laundry.
anything with spiderlegs.
being cold.
stuttering.
anyone's voice that doesn't sound like the smash brothers announcer... MELEE!
deceivers.
things that aren't sharks.

mengtar's thursday list of things to do.

allow several crickets to escape... check.
not have sex... check.
wake homeboy for class on... check.
go back to sleep... check.
wake up to homeboy using me for my shower... check.
still not get any... check.
sit in bed doing online crossword puzzles naked waiting for all the crickets to come running out... in progress.
work at four thirty... we'll see...

on with the hunt!

hopefully this will be the most difficult task of the day...

bringing my laundry to my room.

stipulations:
it's the whites - small easily dropped socks, washcloths and unmentionables.
it's upstairs.
there are boxes on the stairs.
the roommates are home.
i'm wearing a towel.

i failed miserably.

also, come check out adam playing with the barbacks ((still funny to me)) tonight at hooligans.

so i get a phone call around 3-4am from that dude. we talk on the phone for a good hourish and we decide that i should come over. okay... any phone call made to a person of the opposite sex after last call is booty call. correct? of course.

however, this dude calls almost every day after i get back from the bars. STILL WON'T MAKE A MOVE.

i came over for the sole purpose of sleeping in his bed next to him. nothing. he is asking to get raped. and it is definitely a possibility that i do that tonight.



why i think people hang out with me:

boobs.
the rare, but occasional free drink.
the possibility of being raped.
to stare admiringly at my moderate cuteness.
to make their lives seem more stable by comparison.
drama updates.
to bum smokes.
to become famous by association.
free cover at hooligans.

why do people hang out with me, anyway?

last night was a little out there. if only i had brought my camera. i've gotten bad about that.

there was a couch that smelled like fish.
50 cent wells at side bar.
drunken text messages.
godly jack in the box.
a short nap outside the theatre.
we woke up michael ann's new neighbors at 3am by throwing rocks at their windows so we could meet carlos the stoned tattoo artist.
a walk to jupiter where i stole a glass that was ours all along.
and i saw a dude i used to work with whose name i couldn't remember but he noticed that i lost weight and he liked my hair. people i barely know should do that more often. just be like "hey, good to see you, you look great, bye". a very efficient conversation.

john is sleeping with her. i hate thinking about it, but it's not like i'm reserving myself either. i hate that i have double standards about everything... sometimes. when he comes to denton, i need to tell him everything. but it was comforting because i knew that he is finally being honest about what is going on. but my biggest fear is still that it will turn into more than just two friends fucking and trying to survive the summer and that he will come back and not want to be with me. biggest fear.

spiders have nothing on that one.

my favorite drunk food and hangover food is kfc. even though i woke up this morning feeling and looking skinnier, i'm weighing out significantly more. whatever, i still need some kfc.

top three favorite parts of watching aqua teen hunger force colon movie for theaters in the theater

3: the rockin music: i like your booty, but i'm not gay.

2: meatwad: yeah, i mean over the phone, yeah. he says that it sounded like my hobbit that turns the crank case is depressed and need thereapy. we need to get us a new hobbit. they's from the land beyond time. the land beyond time's also gonna hook us up with the unicorn for the radiator. i ain't even gonna tell you about the haunted air conditioner. plus the air filter. that's made of plutonium. that's gonna involve superman so, you know, plus shipping from krypton...

1: him: i love you.

things that sound good:

daquiris
naps
big fat dicks



and him.