Thursday, January 31, 2008

Save the trauma for your mama.

Stranger Danger!

Photo taken on January 30th, 2008 6:06PM

Sky Harbor International Airport

Terminal 4 - Gate A

Most people will not turn down a chance to be photographed (present company included). They usually let off a bolt of inner excitement, while acting like they are chewing it over, so as not to appear desparate. I think it makes their days. I generally say I'm working on an art project so as not to sound like a creep. However, I believe it's hard for me to come off entirely creepy. Like, I look like I'm twelve and physically unintimidating.

This woman was beautiful. I only told her she was pretty. Liar. I regret not using a better term. Stunning, gorgeous, beatific. All I could say was pretty. I was nervous.

She shined (hah) from the inside. No really. I wanted to hug her and for her to make me some of her ethnic food (whatever that may be.) I wanted her to swath my in dark fabric and kohl my eyes. I wanted to ask where she came from and why she was shining shoes. I wanted to sit on a small beautiful carpet, like my mouse pad, but a little bigger-- and pray towards the holy land.
A man came to get his shoes shined right as she anxiously obliged to a photo. I wanted to hit him over the head with his stupid briefcase, chop him to bits and hide the remains in his lame suitcase. Because of this jackass, I felt nervous and rushed. She told him to hold on and hopped in to the chair to the right and posed so regally as exhibited. I was ground level. She was 5-6 feet in the air. I wanted to be lower, I wanted to capture the throne like quality of this nubian queen sitting on her THRONE. Either way she's still beautiful and I feel enriched to have seen her.
I'd like to share it with you.

Post script:
I suppose the main attraction was her inner beaming pride while she performed such a demeaning laborious duty. It's like that Cash song, "Shoe Shine Boy." Git er rhythm, little Muslim.

What do you think her name is?

Where are you going I don't mind
I've killed my world and I've killed my time
So where do I go what do I see
I see many people coming after me
So where are you going to I don't mind
If I live too long I'm afraid I'll die
So I will follow you wherever you go
If your offered hand is still open to me
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
So you've been where I've just come
From the land that brings losers on
So we will share this road we walk
And mind our mouths and beware our talk
'Till peace we find tell you what I'll do
All the things I own I will share with you
If I feel tomorrow like I feel today
We'll take what we want and give the rest away
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
Holy man and holy priest
This love of life makes me weak at my knees
And when we get there make your play
'Cos soon I feel you're gonna carry us away
In a promised lie you made us believe
For many men there is so much grief
And my mind is proud but it aches with rage
And if I live too long I'm afraid I'll die
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
Strangers on this road we are on
We are not two we are one
-Strangers by the Kinks

A tragical medical mix up.

I think that instead of a tonsillectomy, they accidentally gave me a lobotomy.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008


we're all sadists
we're all masochists
all at the same time
all and nothing at all
we deprive deplete degenerate
we torture mutilate wring
pull on the heart strings
pick at each others scabs
the way we pick fights
throw up until you bleed
laugh until you cry
punch the ones you love
love the ones you punch
zip up that leather mask
you're in for a treat
when we're only tricking ourselves
dumb enough to believe
believe enough to dream
touch it taste it
just close enough
yet just out of reach
we're hurting
and hurting for hurting
hurting for you
your hurting for me
hurting me
hurting you
secretly loving it
while hating it simultaneously.

Monday, January 28, 2008


For my dear friend J.

Dear Mark Mothersbaugh,

Like, I know you're a fucking genius and everything. But with all due respect (i.e. very little, on this matter) just because you have iPhotobooth and stolen vintage photos, does not give you the right to publish a book. Well it does have a rad cover. And it's a good idear. Still, fuck you and your fat pug. There. I said it. (And I stole that from someone--can't recall whom....OMG David Spade! That sucks. I suck.)

your lover,
gracie o

Eskimohos! ♥ The music video was too gay (in a BAD way) to post. View it for yourcuteski self here:

This one is better (but no A. Wine) and more apropos:

ps. polevaulters!

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Early Morning Airport Adventure:

Here’s a sign that I knew this day would start off well:

Dakato Fanning poop


Saturday, January 26, 2008

Keep Calm & Carry On

This sounds like something the gorgeous silver fox, Tim Gunn would say. This beauty will hang over our fireplace soonish.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Suck it.

I acquired one of these babies recently. It's totally awersome. (I'm not being paid by Dirt Devil- just 1 honest satisfied customer's testimonial) You can come try mine out if you want.

This one's a standup tall kind. I like it too, but it resembles a butt-plug TOO CLOSE for comfort! I'd be clenching my anus every time I vaccuumed, and that's no good. OMG! And what if I were to slip??? That would be hard to explain to Dr. Smalley at the ER.

Alright, enough posts for one morning. It's not even noon, shit. Well off to my hair appointment. I'll update bout the follicles later. As you can clearly see, I need to get back to work for sanity's sake. Wait, actually I feel much more creative and sentient. I take that back, work sucks the life blood out of me. If only as stylishly as the Kone. Le sigh.

'Cuz breaking up is hard to do.

Here's my break up letter with lj. I probably won't normally be posting this often and rapidly. Two reasons: 1) this is new, fun, and exciting 2)I'm home all week due to the surgery bored out of my gourd 3) okay, three reasons: I want there to be something for my lovelies to read when the mosey over here because they love me. And I love them. I really appreciate it, all.

Pussy holes.

Warning: Graphic content. But too late, because you're already looking at it. Scroll no further for the weak of heart & stomach. Adventurers, scroll on! My friend  Freu-- I mean, J called them "pussy holes." She really meant pus-like, pus-esque, pus-onic; but I'm glad she let'er slip! Caution! Quidado! Pussy Holes Ahead! Get'chur mind outta the guttah, you sicko.


Day no. 1

Day no. 2

Day no. 3

Nice flowers for nice coworkers.

edit: it was meant to say "Nice flowers FROM nice coworkers." sheesh, I do have few modest bones in this corpse of mine. I'm going to leave it because "for" also kinda works in a not so nice kind of way, however, just want to clarify.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

"Hey, it's me." -Pat O'Brien

I've decided to abandon my longtime lover, livejournal, and give blogger 'nother try. Here goes nothing. Welcome!