Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Blog 20...Butt Walking & Tenderloin Weapons Part II

Blog 20……Butt Walking & Tenderloin Weapons Part II

What does Butt Walking have to do with tenderloin weapons, settle down, I’ll get there.

I feel I first need to explain my “butt walks” cause I talk about them so freaking much……

But if you had my ass….wouldn’t you.

The History of Butt Walking
….Back in 2002, when I was 230lbs…I had a hard time walking, even writing for that matter. I had been put on disability and had been to numerous doctors and done numerous tests. No one knew what the fuck was wrong with me, all they knew is that something was wrong with my nerves and their endings. Well I had fallen into a depression and one day, my ex-husband had to carry me to the toilet….I had a “fuck this” moment. I joined the gym the next day. All I could do was swim for 10 minutes before I started to hurt. I did and extra minute each day, and after two weeks I did 5 minutes of very light weights. Well after two months of doing this….I could some what move again, and I was motivated to get all functionality back. I lived at the bottom of this massive hill, that I grimaced at when I saw people trudging up. I stared at the hill, it stared back at me……and I thought that if I could make it up the hill, I could lose all my weight, if I could do this, I could do anything. It was one of my toughest days, and a day I learned how to cope with pain, but I walked up that hill. 8 months later, I was 80lbs lighter, and that hill was only the warm up to my daily runs. Did I have pain still, yes, but I had learned to cope. And my ass had begun its ascend.

Today’s Butt Walk
I butt walk pretty much everyday now. I find hills to walk up all the time. I do have a favorite. On Taylor St, between California and Pine…the hill is so steep they put steps in it. I walk up the steps 10 times rotating how I walk up the stairs. I don’t work up a crazy sweat, but I feel it in my ass. Not only are butt walks great for my ass; they are a time to think, talk on the phone and space out. I know that if I ran, I would get way to tired and not work out because I would be exhausted. Butt walks are at a pace I can do daily and not crap out.
Now a lot of times I do butt walks at night………a lot of times I have these 2 ½ lbs weights that you stack and have the holes in the middle…so I can work my arms and my ass at the same time....I also figure I can use the weights as a twofer….for my arms, and to knock someone the fuck out if they think of messing up my ass improving time.

Which brings me to……

Tenderloin Weapons Part II….

1: My Metal Weights..
Do I feel like an idiot sometimes walking around with weights downtown…hell yes, do I give a fuck, hell no. I feel safe as fuck, no one even tries to mess with me, my friend even gave me a line to tell them (since I tell people I’ll take their eye home in my shoe with my corkscrew) she told me to say,
“I’ll take out your orbital bone……bitch.”
The orbital bone I have now learned is the half moon shaped curved bone underneath your eye. When she told me this, I told her to “settle down” but I also gave her a high-five. When you start naming crazy bones you are going to break on some chicken fucker’s face….they know you mean business.
And it is kinda fun to say “orbital”…..totally.

2: My Jerry Day Kazoo.
San Francisco can I give you massive props for dedicating an entire baseball game to Jerry Garcia. That was the coolest shit ever…times 11….totally. People were like, “Enjoy the show….I mean game.” I puffed at the park, Jerry tunes were playing and Billy and Mickey led all of us in a Guinness Book of World Records breaking Kazoo Concert in the 7th inning stretch. Somehow I ending up with two kazoos, while I keep one at work for birthday and high five ordering moments, I generally have the other one in my purse….(you don’t walk around with a kazoo in your purse….what the fuck is wrong with you.) Well one night I had forgotten my corkscrew and I was walking on a tough street and my boobs were looking, well awesomeness. As the cat calls started to come, I reached in my purse and the first thing I pulled out was my orange kazoo. I realized something that night, crack heads don’t mess with you if they think that you are crazier than them. At three in the morning my bright red ass was walking down Turk St. blowing my kazoo, sometimes spinning in a circle, doing odd songs….I’ve learned how to do almost all of GHOSTLAND OBSERVATORY’S “Sad Sad City”…awesomeness. As if I were Moses crossing the tenderloin seas, the crack heads parted, some of them even pointed and stared. I walked down the street with ease, having a great time to my kazoo song, not even a cat call, untouched and unfazed…..all the way to Leavenworth.
If you can’t beat them, join them…..totally.

3: My Hot Tea.
Since having to give up coffee because of my psoriasis….CHICKEN FUCKERS….I have been a tea drinking motherfucker. And just as a Loin cocktail with ice can protect…so can a hot ass cup of tea….and the hot tea bag in the eye can be salt on the burn (what is up with me and fucking up people’s eyes, I have no clue.) Just flip the lid off, toss and run.
I had to do it once….I yelled,
“Hot Tea in your face”
It totally worked….sometimes you have to MacGyver that tenderloin weapon shit up and just act. In the day I don’t walk with my corkscrew out like I do at night….
And I’ll say it as many times as necessary…
Ain’t no one going to fuck with my cute ass without a fucking fight.

4: The Sparkly Wand.
Now I don’t own a Sparkly Wand….I wish I did. But a couple of my girlfriends have one. One day my girl and I were walking and she was waiving her wand, she turned to me and said, “Man the crack heads really clear a path for me if I wave this wand around.” Once again, you weird out the crack heads, they are going to give you some space (a pink and purple sparkle wand that you run around with raised over your head might do this) and also, that wand fucking hurts, I have been hit many times in the ass with it and owwwwwww (I totally liked it) A sparkle wand definitely makes the list for Tenderloin Weapons, and it has glitter, another twofer.

We will save more for later….if you think of more, let me know, I’m always about protecting my cute ass, and lifting it a little more.

One thing I will say, even if a crack head or a dude is bothering you and you have to threaten them, it does not give you a right to be rude.

Being fucking rude is not proper.

And as a true princess, I am all about being proper and treating people with common respect.
I always say, “No thank you Darlin” and I just repeat, “no thank you” than if they don’t listen I lift up my corkscrew or whatever else I got, and as I threaten them, I end it with a darlin.

Because I would not have a problem with them doing whatever, if they weren’t freaking me the fuck out.


Now go be polite and don’t let anyone fuck with you…..times 10.

(I love how you came up with this mama & the excitement you had about it)
The Defending yourself against the Dude with no Drink Control.
As a hot lady, not only do you have to protect yourself on the streets, but at shows you have to protect yourself from the drunk ass ding dong that dances to close to you and sloshes his drink all over you (chicken fucker) So put your arms in front, elbows at 3pm and 9pm, hands in the middle….And dance as you block and follow the drink. Oh he is going to spill…fake right, fake left, he is moving up, now down, now to the left again, follow it. Once in a while you might have to go on the offensive and hit his drink while you are blocking, especially if he has broken the line and spilled on you. Spill it back a little, and just give him the 'I’m cute' look and go “opps, I like to dance with my arms…sorry.” He can’t get mad, he likes to dance with his drink, you are cute....and sometimes…..worlds collide.

Till next time…..Sparkles.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Blog 19...Living in Reflections of a Dream

Blog 19…..Living in Reflections of a Dream.

When I first left my ex-husband, it was my dream to have an apartment in the city. I ended up staying in Eugene longer than I wanted to…..but looking back, I have realized that in some sort of way, my dream came true……times 10.

Well Tenderloin, it has been a year since I arrived on Leavenworth….

A year ago I was lost……..I was a little broken hearted over Date 3 from Blog 7….something that in hindsight I should have been stoked about. I had been offered some acres to tend to in Shelter Cove and was thinking about moving up there…….Then I took some psychedelics and realized what the fuck was I thinking, moving my bright red ass to another small town to grow pot….been there, done that…..hell no on that one for sure….

I’ll say it once, I’ll say it twice, thank god for my mind, it is free therapy at its finest. (and the colors…sighhhhhhhh)

I realized, what I really needed was to move the fuck out of my parent’s house….I was almost 30. Now granted I had been out of my parents house since the age of 18…but my life had dealt me some harsh blows, divorce, foreclosure, bankruptcy….chicken fuckers galore, and sometimes….you have to go home, and I was blessed enough to have that option.

But going home after being so independent is hard, and it was for myself and for my parents. For the health of my relationship with my parents, I had to move out. (the fact that I raged it hard core at their house every time they were out of town, did not help the situation…but hey, I was blowing off steam…totally)

For the health of my relationship with anyone I had to move out. Due to the fact that I had to say, “I live with my parents.” Made me feel not worthy of a lot of men, or at least, not good enough. And hey, I was not about to get busy in my parents house……no way could I get comfortable, and a girl needs lovin….I HAD TO MOVE OUT.

When I first thought of moving out, I looked at prices (and knowing I had to live by myself….I am one crazy bitch, I would not like to put the burden of living with me on anyone…) shit was expensive, so I thought….OAKLAND. I found a sweet spot, one bedroom, huge closet, close to Trader Joe’s, no shootings outside while I was there….did I mention a huge fucking closet…..and for the first time in a long time...I actually took time to think about it, to not just rush into what at first glance I thought was the right move……..oh and more psychedelics …….that shit really helped me think.

I realized…(at the time I had five jobs in the city, not six) why the hell was I moving farther away from work…that made no fucking sense……Bart stops running at 12:30am....that is fucking early...what about my shows, my parting and my debauchery..…
I needed to re-evaluate the situation…..and more importantly...
I loved the fucking city, why would I leave.

So I looked at the Tenderloin, there were no other options in my price range……..yeah there were crack heads, but I could live by myself, and peace of mind, is worth having to deal with some shit. I remember before I did the final okay on the apartment I walked through the tenderloin, loaded on psychedelics at 3am in the morning, through the dirtiest of the dirty……to make sure that I could do it.

My parents were not okay with it...They came to look at the place and found themselves in a crack head smoking sandwich in front of my apartment……and where the chips should be on the plate...a hooker was taking a shit…..this was all at like 5pm.

Well they freaked out. But they had freaked out about Shelter Cove and Oakland. And I understood, but I took the risk. I told them that I could deal with the my parents always do...they supported me whether I was going to fall or not...because they knew no mater what I had to learn.

Here I am a year later……..In love with the heart of the city. Living on my own in the tenderloin has helped me identify with what is inside me.
I have come to terms with me and all of my faults. I have found the light that shines inside of me and I have learned how to funnel it into positivity.
I have become me…..with out any preconceived notions...
just simply me,
and I love it.

And I am allowed to be me, with no judgments or criticism, only praise. The tenderloin is never going to give you shit for being you…only compliment it.

Thank you Tenderloin…times 10.

****side note****

just in case you are thinking of moving to the Tenderloin.

-The apartment buildings on the northeast corner of Polk and Geary have mice...serious mice. As I walk to the gym they scamper from the bushes out front to the curb across my feet. If you are moving to the Tenderloin…I don’t recommend moving to that building.

-To see what your cockroach situation is really like in your building, before you move in, check out the broiler room, or around it. My building…no bugs, at least that I can see…trust me I got some cockroaches, they are just really small. A couple of the buildings on O’Farrell, have cockroaches the size of my big toe, just lying by the floor of the boiler room….note to self…..DON’T MOVE IN THERE, either….its never good when you can hear a bug crawling against the floor.

-Make sure that you can hang. If you walk through and all the guys hitting on you make you sneer, or the smell of piss knocks you over, or you can’t stop staring at the odd naked form that you think is a human on the corner, but you are not sure so you stare…..The tenderloin is not the place for you.

But if you can’t hang you also might want to look more closer at where you live, cause every place has issues and the tenderloin, we are just more in your face with it.

And one thing is for sure...
I am a in your face kinda girl.

But sometimes the most wondrous, tasty fruits, look like nastiness from the outside and you just have to work through the shell to taste the sweet fruit.

And tenderloin, you are one sweet piece of fruit…

Things don’t always work out the way you want, and that can be a fucking great ass thing….

Cause what you never knew you wanted……
Could be exactly what you need.

Happy Anniversary to me.

(I had forgotten about this one, thanks mama for reminding me.)

This is a simple dance move that is great for when a band is really getting down. Widespread Panic doing “Ribs and Whiskey” is a perfect example.
What you want to do is grab the rug from both sides and pull it off the floor…now shake that shit out. Now take you pointer and middle finger and make a pair of scissors and start to cut that rug the fuck up…I usually bring my knee up and down while I am cutting just because I think it makes the whole thing look better.
And fuck if you can look better, why the fuck not.
Now go cut the rug …bitches.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Blog 18....Walk like a Tenderloin Princess

Blog 18…..Walk like a Tenderloin Princess

All right, look bitches, walk that shit up.
(or roll, or hop….whatever you do….just slow the pace down and enjoy)

I walk that shit up… of my friends made me calculate how much I hoof it and on a good day, if I butt walk, wander around town for an hour or walk back and forth to the Boom Boom Room and walk to and from work…I walk at least 10-12 miles a day….around 4 hours…..and that does not include me running around at work.

Some people might read this and go,
“Settle the Fuck down ding dong…”

NEVER….that is my problem….tee hee hee.

Here are a couple of reasons that walking Kicks Ass…..

A. Your ass really does look better…um…TOTALLY… mine is a perfect example.

B. I love to eat…I mean seriously I could devour a freakin house…I eat whenever possible and I love food…especially good food (I used to own a French restaurant peeps…butter is my friend times 10)….and I usually eat a dessert a day. I’m not at my ideal weight…but I look awesomeness, and I don’t gain weight…or I haven’t….since I started to walk around the town.

C. You get to have the time to really see things, you aren’t rushing past something. As a Pothead..walking is much more my pace. For example, do you all know the door stops around the bars in Union Square are painted like mushrooms…..freakin awesomeness….or the Moroccan restaurant on O’Farrell St. has like six different kinds of tile in its entry way….would you notice that if you were flying by in a car…would the little things catch your eye?

D. I can smoke pot and walk. Now granted I can smoke pot and drive to (crap did I just say that) But I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again….driving in this city full of chicken fuckers is way to much responsibility for a hottie like myself. I like to chill, I work way to hard and I don’t need to be concentrating super hard when I am traveling from place to place. Driving is stressful. There are one way streets that all of a sudden go two ways, roads that fork, crack heads that wander, people more loaded than me that drive and so on and so on…..I feel like it is my responsibility as a Princess to acknowledge the well being of my kingdom and not add to the ding dongs on the road….after all, its about improvement baby…and me on the road…that’s the wrong direction.

E. Crap, I had a bunch more shit to say….I wonder if smoking pot really does affect your memory….. hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

F. It’s the best time to think, just you out and about…thinking, about anything and everything.

G. You can always take a different way. I remember when I used to drive around Eugene (talk about trouble waiting to happen) I always had my set ways to get to and from my restaurant. There are lights and main roads and less options when you drive. When I walk to and from work…I take a different way almost everyday. Everyday I see something new. I see something I’ve never seen before and I might not see again…there is always a chance of discovery….and I’ll be at a slow enough pace, that I’ll be able to see it.

H. Explore and Wander….Do you all know how much cool ass architecture is in this city? All the old houses, the big windows, the Marriot in between Mission St and Market St with the big windows on top so that you can see all around the whole city. The crazy stores, the park, the beach, the museums…. There is so much AWESOME shit in this city that you just need to take the time to find it.

I. SOMEONE PUT GLITTER IN THE SIDEWALKS…..AWESOMENESS….this totally makes walking even more rocking…and if you are walking on psychedelics than…..awesomeness times 10.

J. It’s cheaper. For a broke ass princess like myself, I don’t have money to have a car. In fact, when I first moved back to the city I had a car….and I called those peeps and told them to come and tow that shit away. It was more hassle than it was worth. Maintence, parking, tickets, meters, garages, chicken fuckers, gas………time to find parking…..SHUT THE FRONT DOOR….I was over it…totally. Now I just walk…maybe I’ll cab it one way..its still cheaper than having a car, I still get to chill, and it gives me money to do shit I would rather do…smoke, eat and dance.

K. Some of you might be thinking…what about the bus…but let’s be honest here….The bus smells bad…..and smelling bad is not an option.

L. YOU CAN DRINK….ALL NIGHT LONG. Now granted since having psoriasis, I really don’t drink that much anymore. But I like to have the option. In fact, I like to do what ever the fuck I want, and I do.

And I guess that is why I walk. Because that is what I want to fucking do.

Now you go do whatever the fuck you want to do…

***it does always rock if you can improve your ass while you are doing what you are doing.***

I walked out the gate to get tea and a muffin today and the a crack head smoking against my apartment told me,

“You have the power to elevate a people”

That’s a little to much destiny before caffeine darlin.

Walk like a Tenderloin Princess…

So start by finding your ribs….most of my movement comes from my core. Now move your ass back and forth and front to back…find your internal rhythm. I snap my fingers or kinda groove with one hand… hand always has your corkscrew,
ready to defend. A couple of times as you walk be sure you put your hand up and flash that corkscrew….no one is allowed to fuck up your beat. Don’t forget to get your head in the walk…kinda like “the nod.” Now here comes some talent. Lighting the bowl and holding the corkscrew. I hold the corkscrew with my carb hand….(now I would like to be smoking a joint, but I don’t grow herb anymore peeps, and herb I get is a gift, so I bowl that shit up…I do have a smoking Sherlock and if you put hash on top of your bowl you don’t have to be distracted with lighting crap all the time cause it starts rolling..and it tastes good) Now puff and boogie and take it all in…and get where you need to go….all in good time.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

BLOG 17...Love Tales...Part Two...DATING RESTRICTION

Blog 17….Love Tales..Part Two...DATING RESTRICTION

A perfect example of why I am going on Restriction again is this:
I am at a bar playing solitaire
****please note****
I play solitaire at bars when I go there by myself with real cards so
A. I don’t just have to stare off into space.
B. I don’t have to pine to talk to ding dongs
C. If a ding dong comes and talk to me, I can ignore them and go back to my game.
D. and I like to play Solitaire, its fun for me.

So anyway this chicken fucker walks up to me and goes,
“What are you playing, solitaire, that is like you screaming ‘I’m Lonely’ you are to hot to do that, why don’ you take my number”

As I laughed in his face…I didn’t mean to be rude, but he did have beer breath, and I feel that sometimes boys do need a “Sunny 101”….
“I am not lonely darlin, I simply really enjoy hanging by myself, and I don’t call boys, boys call me, and I don’t even know your name so you definitely are not getting my number…if fact, instead of you telling me I look lonely, you introducing yourself might have come off better.”

He introduced himself…I totally forgot his name right away (I am so bad with names, jeezzzzz) than I asked him what he does with his time,a great ding dong indicator, and he replied,

“ Welllll, I get drunk, a lot….go to school and make beads….”

All right peeps….this is why I am going on Dating Restriction…well that and many other reasons…but a prime example.

The History of Dating Restriction…

I was first put on Dating Restriction 2 years ago by a very dear friend. I had left my husband about six months before, and did not have my own place to live so I was crashing at his and his wife’s house. I had come home from another most meaningless date, and let me tell you in Eugene, there were not a lot of “Sunny worthy” men…I thought if I guy had a job or just grew pot he was a winner….man san Francisco have I told you how much I love you lately….
Pointless date with a chicken fucker.
The fact that I had left a man I had been with for 10 years, that everyone knew, in a small town definitely made it harder to date…totally…

As I said, the guy was a chicken fucker, and I was disappointed and my friend turned to me and piped..
“I am putting you on dating restriction, you keep going out on dates with idiots when you could be hanging with your friends, or working out or doing stuff that is good for you, instead of wasting your time on these chodes…..”

Well, let me tell you, unlike a name, that shit sank in.

Now over the years I have yelled “Dating Restriction” so many times you might all think I’m crying wolf…but seriously..

What is so great about Dating Restriction?

A. You finally get you some you.
Lovers come and lovers go, but I got me this whole time, who better to spend quality time with and put my energy into. When I date or see someone I put so much energy into them, and most of the time they fail to equally put energy into me, so I end up losing out. On Restriction, I don’t lose out.

B. I get treated the way I want.
I truly love me, so I don’t treat me bad…I treat me like a princess. My ex-husband used to ask me how I wanted him to treat me, I would say, “I want you tell me that I'm beautiful, that I am loved, I would like you to spend any..some, quality time with me. To go for a walk, to talk, to shut the TV, video games or the drama off and focus on each other. I would like you to say thank you for me dedicating my life to your dream, I want flowers..

He would tell me that me getting treated like a princess was a “Pipe Dream”

Well not only do I have one hell of a pipe, but my dream is awesomeness times 10, and my happiness is living proof.

I treat me like a princess and I fucking love it.
It makes me love me even more and makes me want to do better things for myself.
I don’t take away from my energy, I empower it.

C. I don’t get Disappointed.
I think this is The biggest one…I am so over the disappointment of guys not living up to their word…..”I’m going to treat you good, I will change, I’m telling the truth, I’m going to take you there, we are going to do this, this is what is going to be like…” BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH…..chicken fucker.

Seriously…shut the front door.
I’m over it.
I am so over getting disappointed and let down.

D. I can only get mad at me.
I really don’t like getting mad or disappointed in people. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I am this crazy ball of positivity, and me being pissed or angry is just not good for my being. I like to see people in the best of light, if we aren’t dating, I don’t mind if you let me down a little, we are all human….

And maybe that’s it.

Maybe all this time of being on Dating Restriction has made me so fiercely independent that I am scared of being let down, of making the same mistake I did with my husband, about taking away from my time to shine.

Maybe it is just me.
I have to come to that realization and deal.

Or maybe it’s that all the dudes are chicken fuckers….
Its up for grabs…totally

So until that one is figured out, I will be in my tower on the forth floor looking out my window…
Wait...fuck that,
I’m going to be out and about doing my thing. Treating me with most awesomeness.
And I won’t settle till I meet someone who is addicted to my pipe as much as I am…
Cause it smells good…TOTALLY….times 10.

Now how you like them apples…..

The Penguin…
This is an owe so simply dance move, but owe so cute…
Put your wrists horizontally, so your hands stick out…get all stiff like and barely lifting your feet off the floor make small little steps…..and penguin walk….this is an awesome way to get through crowds, and if you can do it was having a joint hanging out of your mouth…well than you are one cool penguin.