Pepper, bitches

If I go, and I may-- please, watch Pepper tweet@: HonkyBitch

I swear.

X'es

The letter X is my favorite letter because as far as letters and general workload go, this little fucker does a lot.

X represents all the previous dick I've dated. And that's not a value judgment, either.

X represents everything glo-sticks, binky suckers, butterfly wings, and wide motherfucking jeans from from the rave days (oh, and just jared pees his pants now because I slip on a peg-legged or baggy cuffed little bitch, please.)(just fuck off, just btw)

X represents anything christ or cross-ish. For example, X-tians, and what's a good cross example? I don't know. I don't have to.

X-treme - I guess that means extra, extra, extra ... what? Testosterone? XXXXtra Mounatin Dew? Ooh, X-Games!!! Note to self: tap one of those rad fucks the minute contract is up. LOL!

XXX - Okay, I said it. X has never looked better than with her triplet sisters. N'ough said?

Okay, gotta go - wish me a break-a-leg perf tonight. Ooof, steady.

Help?

They say no press is bad press. Still they have no idea how things like this tighten the screws for me. What is the lesser of two evils I ask myself?

The one thing about a play is that for that two hours I really get to be someone else. An entirely new and different world. No protesting, from within or without. They get to be anonymous, I do not and somehow it does not seem very fair. Not sure how much longer I can do this. Not sure.

Jeans

I choose to wear the jeans that make me feel best on any given day given my FUCKING MOOD SWING THAT DAY. Alright, Just Jared? They are JUST FUCKING JEANS JARED.

Whew. Yay. I feel better. Off to rehearsal.

Hair Wars, it's on!

Really?
You sick bitch.

Really???

One word: scare crow.

VMAs and all that

Is everything really about if I wear pegged leg jeans or flats (designer) or boots? I wish. No, it is going to come to Rhianna's hair. As if. Mine is real, girl. Nothing hanging out the back of it to say, "Hey, notice me singing (lyp-ing) twice on the VMA shitspace Awards. Please. One word: WHERE WAS SHAKIRA? WHERE WAS HER AWARD???

Soooo busy

I'm about to barf. Come to think of it, I have been barfing, a lot lately. Oh, well.
Lots happening. Not sure what to say really. This Michael Phelps seems... I see news about him all over the place. Now, that's a contract I'd consider, LOL!!!!!!

I'd have his babies and I don't even think I'd have many demands. Wait, one. Close your mouth every once in a while sweetness. Okay, off to "the job."

Flop?

Oh, I'm a flop? I'll buy every ticket myself if I have to and guess what? I can. I can walk to rehearsal in jeans and gold flats with bows if I please. In a fedora too, if I please. Tickets sales are fine, just fuckin' fine!

I'm a flop? Just look at you sitting here reading this. And I'm the flop?

BREAKING NEWS!!!

Sit down Perez, D-Listed, Just Jared (really, just?), Jezebels (all of you) Socialite's Life, Jossip, Pink is My New Asshole and an untold array of others...

It's official, I now work on Broadway, that's in NY, All My Sons, ok? Given this earth-shattering news, the following are likely:

I may wear pegged-leg or rolled and wrapped jeans with loafers or any number of flats from my HUGE shoe closet (my shoes *are* like my children).

I will carry my child, (oh yes, I can carry her) to the park, the piers, wherever I choose and she will, get ready, play. It's true.

Children get tired, grumpy, even pissy. I'm sure you're all familiar with moods like this, so-- no need to elaborate.

I will cut my hair as many times and in as many different styles as there are ice-cream flavors. My scalp, my 31 flavors, kapisch?

I will carry my exclusive Chole bag (not avail to you, yet) and wear my Oliver Peoples sunglasses whenever and wherever I choose, even rehearsal-- gasp!

Now, if this continues to warrant your falling down and pissing yourselves on a daily basis then I say, "Knock yourself out." Just know that this my life, not yours.

Jeans and a baby

Peg legged, Tom's (hi, they'd be clam bakers) and my child running our lives. Fools, all. You obsess, I do not. Don't have to. I've got a contract to fulfill right now and this my sons thing is only a piece of it.

We all go crazy now and then but DO NOT disrespect this place. Unless I get to see your child and what it bloody well wears every ten minutes, deal? As if.

What you don't understand...

but I do, hahahaha

Big Puffy Bunches

funny how clouds look just like big puffy bunches of cotton balls but big puffy bunches of cotton balls don't really look like clouds. hmm.
dreamy.
:P

Mm-hmm...

Welcome to the club, boys

Happy things

I can't explain why but when I think of salad, it feels so good. The options are infinite.

Out of/Within

Out of reach:
Time
Spontaneity
Freedom
The sky
Dad time
Control
Gossip
Lies
Not shoes
Ceramic painting Saturdays
The past
Sometimes the present?
Certain ideas
Privacy
Shakira
Innocence

Within:
Shoes
Hair, nails...
Lenses, clicking
The future!
Work
Travel
Family?
The clothes
Patience
Being tempered
Clarity
Vics

Doodles

What I see...

Everybody works, everybody hurts.

Cotton flower cloud

The start = )

Here goes nothing, or... everything : )

"Challenges and risks, part of the game...
this one is by and about me - to the ones close, who don't even really know my name.
These are my rules this time, no one to blame?"