some days start differently than others

transmission received from one suzanne x. hoyem at 2:48pm today:

soooo.. last night i went to the bar with my roommate. lots of stories begin like this. we proceeded to get knee walking drunk and we made a lot of new friends along the way. after a long night of being rad we decided it would be a good idea to have a party at our house. i had just stocked up the bathroom with whiskey and we did have all these awesome new friends. apparently, rumor has it my roommate got into a fight with everyone. i apparently, rumor has it went to bed.

i awoke this morning to a strange boy from brooklyn in my bed. my roommate woke up with shit and piss in her closet. like in a pair of shoes and on a t-shirt. wait, i am talking human feces and urine. okay stop, fucking shit and piss dude, wait did you arrive at the gravity of the situation...

she then flung it into my bed, assuming it had to be the wonky ass dude in my room. i am talking human fucking feces launched into my room like a space monkey. my brain straight shut down. i starting screaming i don't know what to do. over and over again. i am still screaming this as i type this.

my roommate had left for work already and i was left with shit in her closet, shit in my bed, shit in the shower, shit in the kitchen sink, and shit in the wonky ass kid from brooklyn's hair. i demanded a bong load and a miller lite before i could begin to process what had just transpired.

what...the ... fuck...

i am currently laughing hard at this situation that is my life that is a tv show. the best part, and oh there are so many. was...

1. i cashed my 1st unemployment check to pay mari's, my roommate, daughter 60 buck to clean the shit that was in mari's closet, my bed, the shower, and the kitchen sink. that was my very first purchase with my check. not whiskey, or a sandwich, but poo fucking cleaning duties pawned off to a 19 year old girl. yes... that is awesome.

2.the kid from brooklyn had to go to an art show and meet his 19 year old's girl friend's father tonight. the kid has human shit in his hair.and just cheated on his girlfriend with a girl that has a roommate that would throw human feces throw the air and onto another human, in the shower, and also in the kitchen sink.m i told this kid he should just kill himself.

3. the wonky ass kid from brooklyn was wearing a shirt that said 'fuck happens.' i am not joking at all about this for this is the best part of the story. FUCK HAPPENS yes that is how hard my life rules...

why does my life rule so hard question mark. if this didn't make you laugh and feel really awesome about yourself i have absolutely no hope for you.

HATE

I hate boys in bands, skinny girls with high metabolisms, sketchers, vegans who are not vegan by any stretch of the imagination, tattoo Barbie, Zima, bros, last call, socks with sandals, Tori Amos, not being chased, bananas, flannel sheets, platform flip flops, working for a living, red headed ginger milky skinned freaks, dudes that have girls names like Brooke or Debbie....

what has become of me

Kinda bummed. Why didn't I think of this first?

my body hates me.....

so does my wonky ass computer with no shift key so bare with me and my lack of punctuation and capitalization. i will make do exclamation point.
some days i wake up and my body and i are battling. is she punishing me for drinking 10 vodka gibson's, followed by a jameson on the rocks, followed by a box of jalapeno poppers question mark. indeed she is. around the time when i rub my little eyes and curse the sun my guts begin a rumbling. i run to the potty to number 2. 'what the fuck exclamation point.' my poop smells like cocktail onions. take that suzanne with you hedonistic ways, exclaims my body. hours later parched and twitching i swear i will never do her, my body, wrong again. it never works out that way

why my body hates me part two. my period. ahhh my period is often brought on in the most embarrassing way. sex. sex with new ones. ones that you want to look like venus for. 'oh excuse me, did you just kill something with your penis question mark.' no that was just my body puking blood all over you and ruining my coitus.
so if you are reading this body. [which you are, you are actually typing this, good job body exclamation point] i hate you right back. i will continue to eat butter out of the fridge and drink whiskey out of the bottle. huzzah exclamation point.

more and now does not apply to having children

Sometimes instead of a shit sandwich, God gives me my period. This means I am not pregnant, and that I can save the constant mid-level panic of producing another human being for another 28 days or so (mommy loves you Clementine!). The bitch of the matter is that my back is now fucking killing me, and I am too scared to take any sort of painkiller due to my new meds (Wellbutrin. Skinny: here I come!) and their tendency to give you seizures when you take anything else with them, ie booze, smokes, other pills, etc. Boring! Apparently being bulimic and taking Wellbutrin also makes you have seizures, and my doctor asked me about 1,000 times if I have ever been bulimic before I snatched the prescription out of her grubby paw. I mean, do I look like a barfer to you? (don't answer that) Scarfing and barfing, like having threesomes, is better left, for me anyway, to the late nineties/early 2000's. I mean, we all went to college, didn't we?

America's Next Top Model

Scene: 

Living room couch, 3936 Illinois St, San Diego. Early evening. Empty champagne bottles, vinyl lps, and polaroids of skinny, dirty, tattooed boys in tighty-whities litter the hardwood floors. One of these boys may or may not be sleeping in an adjacent bedroom. A cat cries plaintively at the screen door. 

Characters:

Suzanne: early-mid 20's, small, brunette, tattooed, more than likely hungover, but drinking anyway

Kara: early-mid 20's, small, blonde, tattooed, more than likely hungover, but drinking anyway

Act One:

Both girls are curled up on a small Ikea couch, idly flipping through fashion magazines, while the television blares in the background.

Kara: half motions to the TV, while thoughtfully dragging on her cigarette. "You know Suzanne, if we were taller, we could be models."

Suzanne: glances up from magazine, sips from her Miller Lite, pauses briefly. "Yes, and if we had penises, we could be men."

End Scene.

Fin.

Satanists

I recently have been converted to Satanism. It was actually quite fun and didn't involve virgins (they don't exist any more) or blood. The conversion process involved delicious uni from a fine sushi establishment, vodka Gibson’s on the rocks from a reputable piano bar, and finally Budweiser and pot. I think that was Anton Levay's method. From what I summed up from this night of excess is that Satanists are unapologetic for their hedonistic lifestyles. Sign me up. It is also sooooo hipster bullshit chic to claim that as a religion. Way cooler than being a Jedi.