juliana s.'s Profile

(to anyone who got nothing out of this house: be glad. and be on your way. that's all anyone can hope for.)

i made it out of here.
but it was a coin toss between (heads) walking and (tails) passing out and falling down the stairs.
but if i have no blood in my head or air in my lungs, i do have hand railings.
and it was heads, bitches!
i'm not going back. i don't test my luck like that.

these days i should be concentrating on my future, my "career," staying "employed," being "successful" (ie, makin bank), etc, etc...but those big words don't scare me. i'm a person who decided (of her own volition) to get a degree in english, so clearly, i don't scare easily. i laugh at the so-called gods of responsibility! take that, "career"! honestly, those words just don't mean much; it would take many many words by william faulkner to arrive at any level of "daunting." but those self-important words (like the c word...and the e word) are meant to strike fear in every freedom-loving (or free-loving?), law-abiding citizen, until, flailing helplessly, not recognizing his paradise, he gladly trades his soul for any piece of shit job he can get, preferably one with "security" (another bogus word. seriously, why don't we start pretending "forever" exists; you can have "infinity," and i'll say "infinity plus 2," and then we'll get started on whatever words karl rove is currently using). those words are meant for advertizing and business majors, who will be really successful at crushing souls and selling shit (oh, and lawyers, who will be highly trained at rationalizing it). instead, i have dedicated myself to a more noble pursuit. i'm sure ya'll know what i'm talking about (what else?): the pursuit of perfect hair.
obviously i'm promoting the common good. in france, i could have an entire government department at my disposal. don't get me wrong: i don't care about cut. my theory is that you can rock any awful cut (i speak from experience. have bobbed my own hair with blunt scissors, um, way too often); no, it's all about product and general awesomeness (of you, your hair, your hair accessories, your dog twinkle-toes, whatever). i recommend stella nova for this reason: they have many many samples (they're behind the counter, so be persuasive), and as soon as i can get down there, i'll do my best to make sure they have arrojo product (http://arrojoprod...), my new shampoo winner in all categories of amazing. they also have bumble and bumble, but they're owned by that corporate she-devil estee lauder. i highly recommend the swedish elf soap (http://www.smallf...), which always gives me that unheeded advice "be good" (but thanks for keepin the faith, elf) and, by the grace of god, is usually on sale. they also carry my all-time favorite, a badass italian line with names like "love" and "nounou" (http://davines.com). now you know.
so when all the world's going to hell in a handbasket, you know where to go.

hmm...it occurred to me that i just advertized several products. um, i guess i, too, am the devil. but then, isn't consumerism and advertizing crap what yelp's all about? hey what about this - let's stop the evil insane people (i mean, "our government") from consuming our bill of rights and killing people in iraq! then we can go back to happily buying hair product and being savvy consumers. lesson of the week: everyone write your piece of shit congressman (ok, ok, i know "piece of shit" refers mostly to our congressmen down south). also: don't buy diamonds. if you can't tell which are blood diamonds, that means they're all blood diamonds. the end...god, i just want to get back to my sweet arrojo. ok, enough about my goddamn hair.

when someone suggests southend, my response is always "what?" and then, "why?" i just don't understand the attraction...like anderson cooper talking about paris hilton ("i don't know why she's famous. i just don't understand the attraction." translation: "i'm a fucking vanderbilt! and you don't see me being famous for a sex tape, driving drunk, and then expecting your pity! why is this news?" suspect ac secretly wants to release his very own sex tape. suspect it wil be leaked shortly on the internets.) yes, southend brewery and paris hilton: both of equally dubious distinction, but while i understand the paris hilton phenomenon and mourn the rotten state that produced her (we are all stuck in denmark), i don't understand southend. so i rack my brain and run through some alternative plans as the same lame excuse is proffered, something nonsensical about being on east bay (what, near shitty bar?), and i wind up tacitly agreeing, knowing full well said friends will come to their senses in a couple hours, and we'll never actually make it there - we'll go somewhere else, well, anywhere else. i used to think this place was alright; after all, how bad can a microbrewery be? but since i don't have $$ to spare for non-pool related activities, i'm not a tourist, and i don't pay covers on principle (salsa night? and you want us to Pay for salsa night? hell, they should pay Us to be here!), southend just doesn't hold any attractions for me. their pool tables are lopsided. what more is there?

it's your favorite time again....overheard in ac's!

dude i haven't seen in years: i lost like 30 pounds in the last six months!
me: oh my god! are you ok? you know, my uncle started losing weight, and my aunt thought he might have cancer or something...honestly are you ok? you need to take care of yourself.
dihsiy: uh, i'm- i'm fine. see, i was Trying to lose weight.
me: oh. right.

also, i've said it before and i'll say it again: this ac's is way too clean. where's the poetry in the bathroom? where are you, drunk marker-happy bitches? get on it!

it was a blue monday. (i think they're all blue mondays. there's really no such thing as tuesday, wednesday, thursday, or friday. there are really only two days: monday and saturday. all the rest is a lie.) i was devastatingly uncaffeinated; my hair was equally insane (i call it "windblown"); i don't even know what the hell was going on with my eyes. they were being total bitches about staying open. (they get like that sometimes. a little sleep deprivation and pronto: suddenly they're feisty bitches...and always hustlin...constantly on the make for some shuteye...and bragging about their alleged 20/20 vision, those degenerate gypsies...feckless fucks...drunken irish hoors...) what i needed was a lunch hour, an extended european-style lunch hour, something with booze and food and maybe someone else picking up the tab. what i needed was evo. i settled the matter discreetly with my boss ("i'm leaving!") and ditched this evil lair of death and taxes for a brighter tomorrow, my shining future, a city on a hill, and some pizza. the keepers of the evo are serene and angelic, even deigning to give you amazing advice (try the iced coffee), which really makes your mind spin and the heavens disintegrate - really, i need some more of that good advice; i mean, maybe there are other things, well, almost as important as coffee, that i could be advised on....is it true? could i have...found...the oracle?
(i would finish this review but have been swallowed up by the gods.)
peace out!