LucKy ZomBie

Completed in 1833 by Paul Delaroche, housed in the National Gallery in London; I've been starring at the finer details of how much this exceeds over a photograph. Lady Jane Grey is known as the "9 days of the Queen" and also the "13 days of the Queen" depending on how they mark her beginning reign in 1554. She had the very unfortunate luck of being a mere 16 when she took the thorn and willingly gave it up to Elizabeth, who in turn had Lady Jane and her husband put in the tower of London for high treason and then beheaded. Sixteen years old! How quickly children grew up then. The main reason for the beheading is her father, Edward VI, was main catalyst in the Wyatt rebellion so, family got to reap the benefits of his aggression.

This painting is not a favorite among many because of its grim basis's, and even though Delaroche is a brilliant painter, his paintings are usually related to death, see also ("Strafford on his Way to Execution"). A French painter, he depicted much of the British revolution and history. I bring this up because most recently, one of his paintings, said to have been destroyed during WWII when the Germans bombed Bridgewater House was bombed on May 11, 1941. Well, for the last 70 years, "Charles I Insulted by Cromwell's Soldiers" which shows his execution in 1649. So far, I'm not seeing any related pictures since it has over 200 tear marks from shrapnel but I'm looking. Even though Delaroche’s painting were critically acclaimed, now in modern age, he's considered an inspiration and one of the most brilliant artists of his era.

The Execution of Lady Jane Grey 1833

At least once every other week, I get chewed out for not reading World World Z. Epic fail on my part.

Someday, I will hold a copy in my hands and then, I will read it. Until then, I'm just not complete lol.

They do not breathe,
My eyes cough dust,
Night terrors used to sing lullabies.

It's taken a year but I'm finally back at a healthy weight 129 lbs and I feel huge. I know, shut=up right? Well, I'm not as ripped as I used to be even with my arms being toned. I miss my six pack and running for days without coughing. So each day, doing 100 sit-ups and 40 push ups to get back on track. I want to try ditching at least 6 lbs of fat and replace it with muscle. Maybe even start running now that it's getting cooler. I just feel ... un-kept if that makes sense.

SO as much as eat-everything-that-tastes-awesome-because-you're-a-skinny-bitch bas been my diet; I'm going to try my hand at eating healthy. That means no more drive-ins or junk food. It's terrifying! OK being overly dramatic but seriously, eating whatever I want makes me tired and cranky not to mention already stressed the fuck out, maybe some fruits and veggies will help me balance out chemically as well.

Looking for new things to eat and snacks that aren't based in saturated fat so advice would be good.

I've been going non-stop. Can't stop. Hitting every show possible and even seeing my newest favorite band Igor and the Red Elvises ((they asked me to join the tour and be a go-go dancer)), I settled for phone numbers and a signed poster; diving into planning my party and keeping up appearances. This weekend was pretty amazing and last night, at the speak-easy ~ my favorite one in town, I hit a top of eight gin n'tonics, my personality turned all the way up. Unstoppable. A wrecking ball of sarcasm, I can't breathe. We power-housed the party, making witty conversation and promoting my birthday. I'm excited for cake and presents, bands and dj's, a conjoining of the tribes. My friends, from all scenes, Bily, rave, industrial, punk rock ~ coming together for my SteamPunk Circus, it's going to be a mad house. I've written two new pieces that are neither about zombies or sex, my inspiration is on vacation. I'm tired. Zoning out in conversations with a hunch in my shoulders when I can get away with it. Being strong is a pain in the ass but it seems to be in style so I'm working with it. Red lipstick helps. My freshly washed leopard print coat feels nice to the touch and I'm really not wanting anyone touching me. No, I do not want a hug.

Two things I discovered the day after getting back from my last trip to New Mexico. One, my grandfather is dying in the next couple of months. We are hopeful. My dad has stopped making jokes about the seriousness of his lung cancer and we're going to visit him on Thanksgiving. Two, my dad is probably moving back to Chicago. He told me that things are better at home with his girlfriend but I have this feeling, this nasty feeling that I'm going to get another phone call and it will be him asking to visit me before he hits the road. Being strong for other people is hard especially when you really want them to be strong for you. I've been going about this last week with a different approach of not talking about anything; it's easier when nobody tries to be sympathetic or be a shoulder to cry on. I like nobody, nobody is there when I get home and nobody tells me not to worry. Nobody is probably one of my favorite people to not talk to. Pretty sure I heard that somewhere but I can't remember. Really wish I had a worse memory so I could forget a lot the movie moments in my head. Add in last weekend, finding out about my family, and trying to seem peachy-kean, I'm tired. Somehow, I just refuse to give up even though for the last week, I've really had to push myself to get out of bed and I swear my heart stopped beating Friday night. I just don't know what else to do other than keep going even though at this point, I'd rather face the music then make my own.

Cut me apart me pretty,
slice a smile into my face so I am always smiling,
cheek to cheek grimeus with stitches in the brightest red,
the black Dahlia of you bloody Sunday afternoon,
lets make the knob on the radio sticky,
rock and roll keeps your steady hands smooth,
an artist in your fine creation take your time to preserve what would rot,
flesh would rot,
fall from my bones and feed the flowers planted near my tombstone,
hollow grave with no kindling to burn what is not yet dry,
wet with moist lickings,

Do I remind you of decaying fruit?
Kiwi slices on my stomach that taste sweet on your tongue,
a thin film of skin stuck on one side,
suck it in between your lips,
resist nibbling too much of fatty muscle like burger meat,
would I have you reach in and force my heart to beat your name,
one pulse, two pulse, three ...
count the last breathes that gasped not to be forced through tear marks in my throat,
wild animal ripped into me,
a wolf with your teeth around the throat of a doe,
air escaping gaps ~ my neck a broken condom to your creation,
did I die as quickly as you took me down?
Slow to rise to your red smile,
meat in you teeth,
you didn't seem so different,
Hair disheveled around your face,
Veins blue against your yellowing skin,
Pulsating with adrenaline dripping from your arms,

Murder foreplay that still reminds me of the movies,
They don’t talk in the movies,
More like growls of screams,
Driven by a craving to feed, to chomp,
But you knew me,
Blood shot blue eyes staring into mine,
Recognized my face ~ terrified expression of why are you doing this to me?
I thought it would be fun,
If you turned just a little,
Roll play like director script inspiration,
Fake splatter painted across plastic coated floors,
Finger tip smears down the refrigerator,
Clumps of your fur lay in bloody chunks next to my black heels,
Teeth marks in the leather from where you gnawed the buckles off,
Made sure to shred my clothes to pieces,
Leaving thin streams of blood colored tears for each stocking slice,
Swimming up the waters of my legs,
Pinstripe tattoos made in scars,

They’ll stay as constant reminders when the full moon rises,
Your howling echoes midst the hordes of moaning followers,
Driven to the streets,
Mad with hunger,
Pushed forward by need,
Me at your side on the roof tops,
Howling at the moon,
We’ll always remember that we are the new breed,
Here to devour the world.

A girl at my work asked me why I didn't believe in God so I told her simply and with a slight smile, that some fairy tales just aren't true. See, my whole life I've been an island; somehow making it out of the worst situations and coming out on top but alone. The closet people to me keep on reaching just always seem to fall short. My sister; my sister is three inches shorter, four years older, and her life is pretty much over. She flies as high as she can only to have her wings melt when nearing the sun. An ex drug addict, her girlfriend is a waste of cancer, and every time I look at my sister, I remember her kicking my ass. She always seemed stronger than me until one day she just wasn't. My daddy's little girl; all he does is worry about her. He's so hopeful that one day she'll start listening and he'll start working, my dad used to work in housing developments until the market fell through so now he sits in his garage painting. One of his paintings is hanging in one kitchen; the only bit of imagination and dreaming that I've ever seen him make. He's only ever been to one of my poetry slams once. Every time I tell him I'm flying out of town he asks me when I'm going to start living for a corperate job, and how I got the money? I tell him, that I raised it, not that I made enough in one paycheck to cover my rent and fly to another state. My dad has always done as much as he could; once when my car's transmission blew he gave me a car and I treat it as much respect as him. Now, I listen to his advice even if I think I know better because he will always be my father.

Two months ago we found out my grandfather has lung cancer; he hasn't smoked in fifty years. My dad joked until he ended up in the hospital and now has to breathe out of tubes. I've never watched someone slowly start to die before. My grandfather was a Chicago cop during the riots in the 70's and still believes the communists hired the hippies. He stood days taller than me when I was little, used to hang me upside down until I'd pass out, and tell me secrets about WWII because I was too little to understand what murder wsa. We both had night terrors when I was little. My grandmother is an pillar of Irish. She takes care of his every need but we know she does it because she loves him. Highschool sweet hearts, they grew up together. We pretend that I'm still little so she sprays me with perfume and too much food. Yes, I can eat too much but according to her, I'm too skinny. When no one is looking, my grandmother cleans her clowns just to keep smiling. I think they're creepy but I'd help her anyways. These days, I don't have much room for books full of fairy tells even though I stand by that Santa is real, Prince Charming is coming, and god has never done a fucking thing for my family.

I sat every sunday front row and excited to believe in a being that let women be stoned for misconduct, children be murdered, whole peoples, nations ruined for what? For a belief? I prayed every day as a child for my mother to not hate my dad, every day for us to not move. When she remarried, and my sister was addicted and leaving, and I was left there with them, I prayed for everything to be healed. Nothing. Silence. My sister's life is still over. My dad still hasn't found a job. My grandfather will still die. And I will still hesitate every time I want to give into feeling something.

Just wish I still didn't have all my sunday school songs still memorized

Last night, I caught the last meteor to fall during the Orionid meteor shower, sometime around 1:30 in the morning. I made a wish even though it wasn't really a star.

Sadly, I missed the dozens of comet dust flaking onto the atmosphere. I read that there would be dozens of meteors falling at once but caught just that last one. Evidently, the annual meteor shower is created when earth passes through the debris left by Halley's Comet years ago.

It was a nice end to the evening after watching a late showing of ZombieLand for the third time and listening to 3 Bad Jacks, Train Ride to Hell.

Sitting with poets last night, we went over everyone in my bout for Friday and decided that I have a very challenging line-up. Even better, I have the iWPS champ to contend with and my smirking remark was "that's only because I didn't go to iWPS". Yeah, I went there. Confidence is all I have to go on right now. I'm at a cross roads. My job is screwing me over on daily routine now and I may be looking for another way to extract my stress.. The one solid thing I have in my life is poetry being that I love my poetry and in confident that at some point, the judges are there to hear me, that my poetry is what their looking for. I felt held down at Nats and WOW, well I pulled a terrible draw, even better ~ I get hated on older, fat female judges. No, I am not being sensitive. It sucks. It's how things go and I smile through it. For Great Plains, I get to use my four biggest guns; three always pull 28/29's and the fourth has held it's own as of late. Dammit. I want it so badly. More than the job, more than parties with endless friends, more than a love life, I just want to be up there and hear them call my name. At some point, it will happen and it's just a matter of time. Just keep writing.

Patience. This year, I have learned mass amounts of patience; in other people, in circumstances I can't control. Having to be patient in trusting my gut instinct tells me one thing while everyone else says it's pointless. My favorite is watching other people give up on their loved ones. Excuse me. If you love someone and they ask you to be patient, then that is what you do. What kills me is watching people who actually have lovers they have been with for a bit and when their love starts to slip, or doesn't give them attention, or any list of stupid shit here they just let them go. I would never want someone to ever do that to me again so when I genuinely care for someone, I don't do it. Learning to trust again is just as difficult but it also can be done. Step aside from the situation and look at the entire picture. Way out the costs and gains. Economics.

I'm just so damn constricted today. I want so much in my life and even though I know how to achieve it, what makes me fearful is of the costs. For poetry, I have given up free time with my friends. For love, in the past, I have given up my life. I know this: I'm going to be 25 in a little over a month. I have a beautiful apartment, a good job, and a family of close friends that understand me. I've been in love twice in my life and have no fear in telling someone so except at the cost of losing them. I would rather wake up alone than go to bed with someone I have no feelings for, so I wake up alone on most days. Breakfast in bed makes me smile. Rubbing my back and nibbling my neck makes me melt, and it's been over a month since I let anyone do either of those things. I'm hoping this weekend of holiday and poetry will spark back my writing, pulling me out of this depressing little funk;  I haven't really written anything new and I'm starting to get agitated. Between the stress and hardwork, I really need to dive back into my passion and put pen to paper.

In conjunction to my other post for this morning, I haven't been able to write in almost 2 weeks. Nothing. I need to get these thoughts the fuck out of my head before I started getting depressed again thanks to that and my job fucking with my commission. The three poems I can just hear myself reciting in my head, when pen is put to paper, nothing comes out. I can't feel the pieces, can't detach to be in the image.

Just stuck in my head, in my thoughts, in my room of trophies.

Left the FireHouse gallery at about midnight, drove the three blocks to my place, and was up at fire to be at work. Bright eyed and bushy tailed? Hardy. After sleeping for a couple hours at my desk, I remembered I had to rock the sales floor and got busy bringing my sales quota up. Super tool away!!! For the last month, I've had a feature every week, a show on the weekends and that on top of my 40 hour plus work week ~ I'm running on no sleep. Last weekend was my Mill Ave feature that went over swimmingly, a good sized crowd of 100+ people, no jeering jackasses on the street, and I raised a fair chunk to cover my hotel stay in up-n-Omaha. Saturday follower with the Fetish Ball to which 200+ peeps crowded into the second floor, cheering and jeering at all the right times. Twister Twice and Potato CHips are now crowd favorites and requests at everyone of my features. Baked went over exceptionally well and hey, it's going to become a mini movie/ poetry video. Parts will be edited into still frames and the hazey, black filter around the edges to give it a burnt look. So far, Baked and Potato Chips are in lead to be on a DVD and AND I have a recording artist to do my cd. So by Christmas, we should be in the makes. Side note: Cookie and Steve from Fetish Ball are having me back in Feb. All is coming around nicely.

Also up and coming: MC'ing the Zombie Prom Oct. 30th, and hosting a HUGE FUCKING HALLOWEEN PARTY. No joke, that's the title. This week has been photoshoots for Zombie Prom and making guess appearances at clubs to promote. After Zombie Prom, I'm going to start charging. I know, should be charging now but one has to make a name first before it's worth paying for. OH and an erotic feature next month.

So being a rock star is pretty cool, Kat reminded me last night that I'm "Lauren Fuckin' Perry" and I'm debating on making that my stage name. Too blunt? Right. There's talks of a tour. I want to tour. I've already been asked to come to the Bay, might lurk out to Detroit, and couple other places, hit ABQ and show those lady poets how to be fucking chick poets ((Kenn said they need a verbal spanking haha)) so we'll see.

More rants to come. Cheers and zombie kisses

Zombie photo-shoot tonight for the flier for Zombie Prom which I will be Mc-ing and co-hosting. Check that out. So this evening I get to doan my riped-out cheeks and hollowed eyes, shredded thigh-highs, and rotten 50's lingerie once again for the flashing lights. I'm excited. I like to be more of a rotten zombie, decayed as opposed to be violently torn apart in my death. I have have a nice little back story as to why I'm dressed the way I am. This year, I might incorporate an actual bite or wound on me somewhere ~ a chunk out of my neck from a lover perhaps. Good times! I love make believe and make believe is like roll playing without the sex. When I was a little girl, dress up was my favorite game and still is just on a more adult however, erotic situation. Hem-mmh can you smell the fake blood?

Lately, with being so busy, I've been distracting myself with getting ready for halloween, my Bonnie dress hanging in my closet under its plastic cover next to my other vintage dresses. Of my three costumes, I'll have to save that one for another time. Within, the last month, I've exploded into performances and feature invites, now also hosting a huge Halloween party. Since my weeks are mostly made of work and practice, day dreaming and movies, my weekends are packed with planning. Now, also too there is my birthday. We have the venue and theme, a cover cost for people to support the yet-to-be-booked bands and Dj's; Dante is getting me a birthday cake, and I hear tell of presents. I feel myself getting older in the public eyes of locally infamous.

I find myself sighing more lately.
 

The death heat is starting to go away. FINALLY! Last night, I even got to wear my leopard print coat again. It's not fall without my leopard print coat liner in hot pink taffita. Ahhhh leopard print, how I love thee. Sadly, my  favorite bandanna is gone. A sacrifice to the ABQ gods from my last trip up to New Mexico. No idea where it could of gone, I'm really good about not misplacing things ESPECIALLY something as important as my favorite bandana. I had to fight to keep it in the first place. The hunt continues. Two more days until Fetish Ball and my nerves are starting to waver just a little. I'm sad to be missing iWPS and not being able to see the person I care about, that and all the poets that are just well A-lister performers but Fetish Ball will be good for my career. Me, who does poetry that is welcomed into a community of the twisted and out of norm. They are welcome hands clapping from below the stage.

Also excited to get my hair done and add a little change to mix. I know. It's super scary changing something as small as my pink hair but even a little is a big deal to me! It's almost as bad as telling someone you love them only you can't take that back once you say it. Le sigh. To make up for my nerves, I've been shopping for vintage lingerie and getting plans for my birthday drawn up. I know it's not until December but since it's my 25th, I want to have an all out BASH. So far, I'm talking to the owners of the Manson Underground venue ~ an under-ground club that runs all hours, and we are in the works for having the party there. Plus my DJ friends and maybe a couple of bands. Hopefully, CreepsVille 666 and 3 Bad Jacks if we can get them out here. I want to have a 40's/50's lingerie party where everyone dresses up. OH! and a cake. My bestie Dante is getting me a cake with candles! So there's that to focus on. If I'm not busy planning something, then I'm being lazy.

Damn, have to up-gauge my ears to fit in the crystal plugs I got a month ago. Didn't really want to but it needs to be done fit in the size I want. The spikes slipped in easily but now have that warm, throbby feeling that I've become used to. Wonder if I'll ever have to get them reconstructed. Came to mind last night after poetry. Tufik featured and I have to admit, I miss that kid. We become pretty good friends at Nats so not having my poetry partner has been pretty lame. His feature was solid and he was a hit with the crowd especially with a couple new pieces still on page. Towards the end his set, he pointed me out in the audience and gave me an introduction which was so very nice of him. When Ann introduced me for second round reads, I joked with him in the audience before doing Baked With Tender Affections which was a great lead in to Potato Chips since Tufik yelled it from the audience. Ahh Potato Chips, the piece that everyone hates to love. From the audience, I could see him, Kylie, and Hannah laughing and squirming ~ the correct and original effect of the piece. Over all, a very nice night that ended with them coming over to relax in my new apartment.

Wait, used the knife in her throat as leverage to finish!? Who writes that?
Cheers

OKay, my mind is in the gutter thanks to the end of last night. Not only could I not sleep but I woke up to get a drink around 4:30 am this morning and scribbled out some XXX haiku. Those very same haikus are actually unreadable so I must have still been asleep.

Tonight, is my feature and I am so very excited! I hope peoples actually show but competing with a birthday party, probably not a lot peeps from the party. Oh well. SO I just won my 3rd laptop at work. Yeah, made it to third place playing poke and lost to a pair of fives. It was a pretty shitty hand we all got dealt. No biggie, still won another laptop. I'm starting a collection lol.

I'm going to have somewhere between 20-30 minutes tonight to perform and I am itching to do some old pieces. I'd been thinking about doing my first slam poem EVER but I can't find a copy of it but making the list is Grace Kelly for sure, Splatter, and a couple others. Any requests? I'd debated on the Black Widow Russian Spy which I ever only performed once and well, my Russian accent is pretty terrible. Probably the News. I'm really just ranting right now because today is awesome and I'm all fluffy.

Right, today is my 1 year anniversary to coming back to Phoenix and my life has done a complete 180 from where I was last year. I'm not on the road, feeling the failure. Instead, I am strong and confident; I feel beautiful in my skin again, proud in my love, and more pink than usual. Just had to set that out there. Today is proof that I can accomplish anything if I just want it hard enough and drive myself to get it, no pun intended.

Glass of milk and a cigarette. It's a beautiful 84 degrees outside and I feel fantastic. Over slept but was still on time; last night I found a potential bar to start doing a few shifts at but I need to talk to the owner. It was a successful night of accomplishment as before heading out for a pint, I went through older poetry and found a couple good pieces for my feature. Going to mix it up a bit thursday and no, not Pink Barbwire.

I've got the final idea for my chat book and need to find a printer or someone that can help me accomplish the image I have. It's going to be call Horror Couture, with a foggy cover and some 40's pulp underneath. Not a long chat book, maybe seven poems but mainly a collection of the pieces that make everyone super uncomfortable. I'm thinking of adding in a couple pieces just to level the tone but we'll see. I'm going to test out Cuther on Thursday. 

Today, my mind is wondering and my focus is less than it needs to be. I have nothing driving me even though performing Thursday and twice next month are big priorities. THey aren't small performances I have coming up. It's been months since I last featured and years since I had a complete one of my own in Az. Excited that Al from the Bay wants me to feature there next year and all over Phoenix in the next coming months. Maybe I need a backrub and some good tasting food.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   

Last night Horns & Halos confirmed I'll be performing at the Fetish Ball, the first and only slam poet or spoken word they have ever had. It's an honor and a privilege especially after explaining the difference between fetish and erotic to the head of the scenes. So far, I have 15 minutes on the main stage about 10:30 but that might change to a later time so there is a bigger crowd. I can't wait. That's four pieces, five I can sneak one in. I'm doing signature three but I'm torn between the finished version of Baked w Tender Affection and Little Slice of Nerd. I'm going to post both pieces to see which is the favorite. Tender Affection is more gruesome and I think that peeps with a blood fetish would really like it ((it's a personal favorite of mine)) and Nerd is well, it's an erotic nerd piece about being fucked by a WOW avatar. Fetish peeps are generally pretty nerdy, having come from outcasts and goth kids so it could be a winner. We'll see how the crowd responds.

Some of my poetry, well, a lot of my poetry that are personal favorites, don't go over well in the slam community but performing there at a fetish ball! Surrounded by freaks and above-norm of society, it's going to be a blast! When I did Twisted Twice at the Black & Tan, they just died! They loved it, loved the twisted humor and couldn't stop asking me questions! To mark the occasion, I'm getting my hair professionally done, that's color and style. Going to change it up a little bit. It's been three years of solid pink. I just need to find some dark green and black roses for my hair and maybe some new seamed stockings.

Re-invention of one's self is always such a blast, especially when you do it on stage in front of hundreds of people.

How great is that title! No really, I'm having a big bustin' sort of day. I fell asleep with a smile, woke up with a grin from a full night of dirty inspired dreams *a-hem* and have been sailing through the afternoon with killer sales. I bought my plain tickets below budget pricing for Great PLains, have rides arranged from the airport oh, and did I mention that I WOKE UP TODAY! So no concussion from smacking into a steel beam, although every now and then my head hurts. So it's a good day. I didn't make plans for tonight since I'm pretty sure I might be featuring somewhere .... pausing ... but if not, than I'm tearing some shit up. Tomorrow, I'm hitting Sadisco with a bat and going to the Manson AfterParty for giggles in full wear-and-tear affect. Hrmm I have a craving for vintage rhinestones and to rip something pretty.

So last night I learned two things, first Secret is My Favorite song is a hit and needs to be off page, and 2nd well, talking about a girl being stabbed in the throat while being fucked by her lover while he continues is not a hit. Baked with Tender Affection made the audience squirm in their seats and my smile just spread through the whole piece. My 40's Noir Horror Couture pieces are turning out to be my favorites. I really want to make a mini book with all my horror ones in it including THE NEWS. And I'm such a happy person ... most of the time. I really need to crack down a write a new zombie piece too. So much to write that swirls in my head! It's a good day and it's going to be an even better weekend.

It's been a minute since I posted and of all the things well, this morning has been strained with if's and possibilities. Walking out to work this morning, rushing, I slammed me head against a steel beamed and dropped to my knees. THere's a bump as a reminder that maybe a helmet is really a necessity. Wait, fast-forward to work to more important things. My best girl at work is Erin, we bs in meetings and have an imaginary "tent" at work, we hush people when they walk by. She takes vitamins every morning and has a slimfast for breakfast. This morning she started choking. She couldn't breathe and started coughing, her boyfriend and our manager ran up to give her the hemlock. Her pill had gotten wedged in her throat and she finally swallowed it but nearly passed out. The entire floor stood. Phones stopped ringing and we all stood, silently watching the dark shadows moving away from her when she finally took a deep breath. I went to the bathroom with her where we joked and she laughed at how embarrassed she was; we both knew that it was a cover for the fact that she had almost died on the floor from a pill that was supposed to make her feel better.

I've never seen anyone die before, not right in front of face. My hands have dissected human cadaver's for school, funeral dress attire is my favorite, and I sat through the death & remembrance with dry eyes. I've gotten that phone call three times and was there for the friends that also got it as well. I've never seen one of my friends die right in front of me and I stood there, in slow motion of people running, we huddled around her, precious. Erin's staying at work today because she needs the money, Mike offered to let her go and I had half a mind to take her shopping or somewhere fun but here we remain, answering calls. It's all so unimportant. Everyone is joking to make her feel better, it's everyone that didn't see it, the look on her face as she started to turn from red to blue.

Just sitting at my desk, I'm so out of it. There are more important things than the computer screen in front of me.

I've been at work since 6 am.

That's early like that's waaaaaaaaay too early for me. I'm awake at six am, is it for tasty breakfast? ... pause ... no. Is it for tasty morning sex situation? .... pause .... no. Hrmm then should NOT be awake this early.  Side note, those are not the only reasons I wake up early but my favorite ones. SO I'm dedicating this forced labor to write my presentation for Tuesday. I'm overly excited and have decided to perform 2 haikus since that is what my presentation is on in relation to sales. I'm going to have the 5-10 trainers write haiku and then, have three judges and two trained do a mini haiku-death match! In relation to sales: an introduction in sales determines if a customer will purchase ~ in haiku, you have a few seconds to win over the crowd and "buy" your sentiment. I'm so excited.

Here's the thing, my haiku are well, dirty, vulgar, zombie-like, or written for someone specific. Trying to force haiku for my presentation. 34 syllables have never been so bland.

Last night's slam was pretty fun; I took first place beating out Klute and Dwayne. So pretty good times and did my favorite haiku as a victory ((no not the zombie one)).  Had a request for Potato Chips as a closer and did an over the top performance, complete with cracking voice and popping wrists. I'm going to take a break from that piece for a few weeks since now, it's always requested and I need to write new ones to try out. Opened with Little Slice of Nerd which got laughs and a good review, and followed with Personal Masochist. OH! Nice surprise was an old friend showing up from the Eszena days. Felt like old times with Klute, Vegas, Winter, Bob, and myself; we were really only missing Bill and Corbet. Ended the night with having an ice tea with Vegas and some friends at Old Chicago going over the days of mishap. Oh yes, the days of Jersey and the triangle of toxic ex's including the bar fights and knocking out bitches. It all sounds pretty funny now, reliving those moments around a table of laughter; at the time they weren't so funny but we came out friends ~ Vegas, Jersey, and Chi-Town ((that'd be me)). And hey! I made a couple of new friends so we're all hitting the movies tonight.

Got to start today by sitting in a dentist chair being told I'm going to have a removable tooth for five months but it'll look real. Pause. Tears. Yup, I got upset. Every woman has something they don't like about themselves or they want to change; I joke about getting breast implants but would never really do it. I joke about a lot of things but really, I'm comfortable with the way I am most of the time. My teeth are my weak spot. I've always wanted a perfect smile and had it for about two months after having braces. With my front tooth base cracking a YEAR AGO, my teeth have shifter and now, I need an implant. The first dentist today wasn't willing to work with me on the level I needed, made me feel uncomfortable and small so inevitably, big tears started rolling down my cheeks. I left with red eyes and made it two blocks when on my left was another dentist complex. On a whim, I pulled in, spoke to the administrative office and ended up in a new office. Not only do are they able to do what I need with a high success rate, but they take my insurance, have financing, and do payment plans. They were super nice so I left with a new appointment and a smile instead of big tears in my eyes. Feeling more optimistic about this now. My teeth are just that thing; I used to pick myself apart and strive to be visually perfect up to my own unreachable standards, I put too much stock in the way I look. My teeth though, I just want straight, white teeth and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Well, the appoint is Monday so we'll have a plan by late morning and start the process here pretty quick. Hopefully, by my birthday, I'll have a new, whiter smile.