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I got a job!
Not just ANY job - the super insane fabulous dream job that I've been interviewing with and working on getting for two damn months!!
I have benefits! I'm now a Web Editor for Starwood Vacation Ownership, Inc. a subsidiary of Starwood Hotels which owns Le Meridian, Sheraton, and the Grand Westin Hotels.
I am now doing copywriting work on internatonal ad campaigns! These people have their work in the Addy Awards and I'm going to be one of them! YES YES YES!
Not bad for someone who made $9,000 last year (Gimme a break, I was a full time student). That's one hell of a raise. Which means...
I'm rich, bitch!!!
Next time I see everyone of my friends, drinks are on me! :-)
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Comments: Read 11 or Add Your Own.
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Yes, Mr. White Convertible Jaguar, a vanity plate that reads "SHAGUAR" does indeed qualify you for tool status.
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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If someone has slight OCD tendencies and is particularly stressed, it is really not a good idea to turn them loose in ginourmous a retail store with positively cramped shelves and boxes that reach up to the warehouse sky and tell them to face (retail term that means to straighten, align, and organize) each product perfectly for a few hours. Said person may spend 11.5 hours in a hazy trance of compulsion, only to finish exhausted and frazzled that customers have RUINED ALL THE HARD WORK by TOUCHING THINGS!!!
heh.
So not cool.
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Comments: Read 7 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, April 6th, 2006
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In case you needed another reason to hate Tom DeLay...
I found this because of someone on my friends list. It's from the transcipt of DeLay on Hardball with Chris Matthews. Video here.
MATTHEWS: Have you seen this new focus group stuff on the candidates?
DELAY: No I haven't
MATTHEWS: It's great stuff. I'll send it to you -- it's great -- yeah it's great stuff. Hillary, John Kerry. All these guys, all these democrats, and how they do. And, uh, Frank Luntz did it...
DELAY: who I like
CM: ...and Hillary did not do well. Kerry did well.
DELAY: You're kidding.
MATTHEWS: I am NOT kidding. They didn't like Edwards -- they thought he was a rich lawyer, pretending to care about poor people...
DELAY: Too slick. Too slick.
MATTHEWS: ...and Hillary was a know-it-all.
DELAY: Nothing worse than a woman know-it-all.
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Some recent pictures of me!
I chopped the remainder of my hair off, last week, in a fit of must-keep-short-hair-thing-going-but-can't-afford-hair-appointment random weirdness around 3am during a bout of rabid insomnia. Yup, did it myself. Which is ballsy since I have no idea how to cut hair. Good thing I'm not too attached. I figured, if I messed it up completely royally, I could always shave my head again:
I liked my shaved head and I know Paul would find me sexy either way. He's perfect like that. So long as I keep the hair short, he's very happy. Alas, It was starting to grow longer in this, my only shaved head picture, but you get the idea. Pardon the boob shot. And the breathe-right nose strip. I think I had been drinking and I was definitely being silly. I hate the porno-ish look of my boobs in this picture. Even when I lose lots and lots of weight, they never quite go away. What i've give for A cups! (Oh yes, I'm quite serious!) I envy marginally endowed women soooo much.
So here's the result. I was going for a really short Mia Farrow come Rosemary's Baby kindof cut:
I am also happy to report that my scars are healing nicely. I have visible scars still on the tops of both hands, and on the bridge of my nose. I have no idea why, but they don't show up in photographs very much, even when I'm wearing no makeup, like in these pictures. In person, they are quite visible, even with makeup on, if I'm not in a dimly lit darkened bar. But that doesn't matter, does it? Because the only place you fuckers see me is in dimly lit darkened bars! I have caught prosprective employers' lingering gazes on the nose-bridge scar and I'm compelled to explain that I was in a motorcycle accident, yadda yadda yadda. It's genius to do so, as it allows me to play the sympathy card and explain the gap in my work history in one fell swoop!
I feel pretty good about my home haircut. It can look a little dykey at times but that's ok because I am kind of dykey at times! Just.. the straight kind of dykey. So pro-dyke, I'm a straight girl who likes to look dykey! Is that strange? I just like trying to look tough sometimes. Not that I've really accomplished it. My hair stylist Brianna knows very well my quest to look tough. I always gravitate towards looking interesting or modern or whatever over looking pretty, if it's a choice between the two. I probably do this because, being a short shit like I am, I've always been dubbed with the dreaded "cute" label. Brianna knows that I'm down for anything that doesn't veer ANYWHERE NEAR the soccer mom flippy cute type of shit. She always loves it when I can scrape together the (well-worth it!) money to see her because I sit down in her chair and say, "I'm feeling dramatic. And unwilling to dictate. Just... surprise me, go to town." Hairdressers love this quality. And if you can get yourself to such an easygoing state about your hair, and if you go to Mz. Briana Dunning, you can stumble upon some of the most creative (in the best of ways) and flattering and interesting and oft-commented upon haircuts you never dreamed of. *le sigh* I miss money. Money allowed me to go to Briana more!
On another note, I know for a fact that the reason I reject yet so often get the "cute" label has everything to do with my name. Yup, it's true.
My name was supposed to be Gabriela. My (German) mother positively loved the name. It was decided early on in her pregnancy that I was to be dubbed Gabriela and I'm sure that my deep affinity for the name comes from being called such for many moons whist still incubating in my mother's womb. At the last and final hour, my (Spaniard) father balked at the name. Throughout labor, I was Gabriela. For nine months, I was Gabriela! Then, as I lay gurgling in my sweaty mother's arms, having just completed my first bath at the hands of my father, he BALKED! He proclaimed that Gabriela was too "boring, too plain, too common." He wanted an "exotic" name. My mother, too exhausted to champion my case, acceded. And thus, Kelly Beth Muñiz was given her name. Kelly! How plain and common can you get?? How many of you know a bazillion Kelly's? Show of hands? Yep, me too. Too damn many Kelly's, there's an overpopulation of Kelly's! Hell, my closest friend is also a Kelly! Kelly Elizabeth, might I add! Which is pretty much the exact same thing as Kelly Beth.
But to my Spanish father, an Irish name is the paragon of exoticism. *sigh* I just know that if I had continued to be called Gabriela, I would have grown to 5'10", all of it legs. Legs up to my neck. But nope. The curse was bestowed, and I was forever doomed to be 5'2" (if you're feeling generous, apparently) and not stunning or gorgeous, but simply "cute".
FIE! FIE! HARUMPHH!!
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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I'm relatively certain that due to my motorcycle accident back in December, I am currently suffering from Post Concussion Syndrome (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post_concussion_syndrome). I have an appointment with my doctor on Wednesday morning for my regular monthly Adderall refill to treat my ADD and dyslexia and I plan to get some tests for PCS and hypothyroidism (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypothyroidism) resulting from traumatic brain injury (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Traumatic_brain_injury), while I'm there.
Seriously, I've reasearched all of this and I understand that it may take a year or more for all my symptoms to go away, but it's effecting my life in really huge ways and goddamnit - I'm sick of it all! I know what the problems are.. and I'm starting to maybe have more solid ideas about why, but without medical insurance, my treatment options, hell even my avenues for acquiring information, are intensely limited. But I know that something must be done or I'm going to flunk out of college, be wholly unable to hold even a crappy slacker type job, and I'll never injest food, brush my teeth, or leave the house, in time. I'm not there yet, but I see the path I'm starting down and it's frightening.
I've never been like this. This isn't me. I have a medical reason for it but it doesn't make my problems easier to deal with. Which leads to internalization of emotions and self-destructive coping methods (methods which were around long before the head injury). On the upside, I think I've been able to muster my resourcefulness of yore for brief moments, just long enough to find a few places I can go for the cognitive psychological rehabilitation portion of recovery. My doctor makes sure my bones are set and no flesh eating bacteria formed on my wounds. The wounds have been replaced by scars and so long as my outer casings look good, he's happy. What i need now is a shrink!
And I know several of you on my friends list share common qualities with me such as pauperism and the occasional need for a psychologist, so here's what i have found.
If you are a student at Seminole Community College, you can see someone, though it seems briefly, for free.
http://www.scc-fl.edu/counseling/counselingpersonal.htm
If you are a student at Valencia Community College, you can see someone, also briefly, for free.
http://valenciacc.edu/east/advising/srv_stud.asp
And if you are not a student anywhere, UCF has a Community Counseling Clinic offering free services, though they don't see too many people, so act now, supplies are limited.
http://www.ucfcounselored.org/Clinic.htm
It sucks because I'm not the depressive type, but many of my PCS problems manifest just like depression. I never realized it until now, being faced with the same or similar symptoms of depression, but I do believe I felt (please take note of the past tense, here) a sort of superiority regarding my own mental health and those who injested antidepressants! I feel like an asshole and I also find this extremely shocking. I didn't even think I had these feelings until it became about me. Confronted with the notion that I may need to take happy pills, I've been feeling indignant. Now I'm thinking about why my initial reaction to the suggestion arouses such strong feelings - my reactions make it clear to me that it is a matter of pride. This is something I never realized about my previous biases towards people suffering.
I usually pride myself (I'm a hyper-prideful person, can you tell?) on my compassion. I do believe I am one of the most compassionate people one could find. And yet, there I was, judging people without realizing it. I don't think I had really malicious feelings towards those who suffered from depression, just a kind of pity and bias. Now that I'm puzzling out my own situation and really throwing into focus my weirdness about mental health, I think before I sympathized, at best, with depressives. Now I truly am beginning to empathize.
Feelings of "not me, other people but never me, I've always been great with that" sprang up. For those who have never really suffered from depression or a condition like it, you really don't know. I didn't. This is a serious, very real, and severe problem for SO many people. I'm learning that even if you think you know how crippling it is, even is you believe it exists but can't wrap your mind around it being more about an unwillingness to suck it up, that's still fucked up! And even though I doubt anyone could tell my innate bias from my treatment or actions, I still feel the shift in ideas, coupled with an overwhelming need to apologize!
So here it is. I had some really assholeish thought processes about mental health. To those I know, casually or otherwise, I am so so sorry.
In other news, I've got myself a part time job working for a mobile dog grooming company. My coworkers comprise of the owner, a wonderful liberal lesbian who I can already tell I'll thoroughly enjoy working for, and an animal groomer who is close to me in age, enthusiastic, and just as liberal and intelligent and fun to be around. Unfortunately for them, and me, I don't think I'll be able to survive bill-wise on the meager salary they can offer. I really hate thinking about quitting a job I like with people I like so very much, when I've only just started. But a girl's gotta eat, right?
We shall see. I won't wuit until I have something else lined up. And if I do need to change jobs again, I plan to give them all the respectful and apologetic notice and help that I possibly can. Because I like these girls, damnit.
The semester is winding down. I'm doing kick ass in one class, not so hot in another, and overall, teetering on the brink of brilliance or total failure at any given time, regarding college. Argh! Its very frustrating to live in the extremes. Stable may be boring but boring is welcome.
Good lord! This is turning into a health blog! How boring for the readers on my friends list!
I aplogize, I apologize.. Things will be returning to debaucherous fun again, soon. I can feel it.
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Comments: Read 7 or Add Your Own.
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At Matador this Friday night at 10 pm! Nothing is formal about this event, including the dress. Be sure to find the cheesiest, most hideous, and/or innappropriate (in a bar) frock, thow it on, and head downtown. The goal is to get the bar packed with as many bad prom tuxes, suits and dresses as possible. We'll also have the crowd vote for king and queen. Remember this is for fun, no cover, nothing set just having drinks with friends in funny, silly clothes for others to stare at. oh and they have kick ass 80s music, too. See ya there!
Here's Kelly F's article about last month's good times:
http://72.14.203.104/search?q=cache:CegOi-QV3oQJ:www.orlandosentinel.com/entertainment/columnists/orl-kelly2406feb24,0,7656514.column%3Fcoll%3Dcalcoltop+prom+for+you+to+glom+matador&hl=en&gl=us&ct=clnk&cd=1
Kelly Fitzpatrick wrote:
Date: Tue, 28 Mar 2006 10:44:52 -0500
From: "Kelly Fitzpatrick"
To: A bunch of people.
Subject: Prom night
Hey guys,
Not sure if you heard me talk about this, but about a month ago, a group of us got dressed up in really cheesy prom dresses and suits and made merry at Matador in downtown Orlando. We even had the crowd pick the king and queen of the mess. Needless to say it was so much fun we're doing it again and I'm hoping to get more of a crowd so the place is nothing but a sea of bad hairdos and double-knit polyester. We're going to head to the bar at 10 p.m. on Friday, let me know if you can make it. I'm hoping to get as many people out as possible.
Kelly Fitzpatrick (The Other Kelly)
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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These numbers are real. My friend Ben Markeson called both of them. Napoli is one of the instigators behind the legislation recently passed in South Dakota that outlaws abortion (it's supposed to go into effect July 1, but may be held in abeyance pending the outcome of court challenges). When you call be sure to be *polite* - no cursing and no threats. Don't discredit the cause. Ben let them know that he was calling to express opposition to Napoli's stance on abortion, that he believes that women are capable of making their own decisions, and that Napoli should quit trying to legislate morality and quit trying to legislate what women can do with their bodies.
Which is exactly what I plan to do first thing tomorrow morning!
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Comments: Read 5 or Add Your Own.
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My boyfriend is more beautiful than your boyfriend.
Whether he is unshaven and shaggy-haired:
Or clean shaven and coifed:
My boyfriend is the absolute sexiest:
Geekiest:
Most interesting:
Sometimes fuzziest:
Sometimes not so fuzzy:
Most mischevious:
Most dashing:
Lover of animals:
He is an excellent dancer!:
He is prone to being carried away by zombies!:
His body is a wonderland!: (haha, had to)
And even though he's not always very sweet before his first cup of coffee:
He's an all around nice corn-fed midwestern boy:
And I love him very very very very much:
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Comments: Read 9 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, March 14th, 2006
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The Five Love LanguagesMy primary love language is probably
Quality Time
with a secondary love language being
Physical Touch.
Complete set of results| Quality Time: | | 11 | | Physical Touch: | | 9 | | Words of Affirmation: | | 6 | | Acts of Service: | | 2 | | Receiving Gifts: | | 2 |
Information Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.
Take the quiz
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, March 2nd, 2006
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| Time: | 5:39 am. |
| Mood: |  bouncy. |
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Yesssss!
I just bought this
and this
 . I am very excited.
I'm psyched to finally get myself the INSANELY useful FEATURE PACKED Mio but I'm especially ecstatic to finally read Wasted. Marya Hornbacher is pretty much the agreed upon standard by psychologists, medical professionals, and disordered thinkers themselves regarding a gritty and honest account of disordered life and behaviour. From School Library Journal
Eating disorders are frequently written about but rarely with such immediacy and candor. Hornbacher was only 23 years old when she wrote this book so there is no sense of her having distanced herself from the disease or its lingering effects on her. This, combined with her talent for writing, gives readers a real sense of the horror of anorexia and bulimia and their power to dominate an individual's life. The author was bulimic as a fourth grader and anorexic at age 15. She was hospitalized several times and institutionalized once. By 1993 she was attending college and working as a journalist. She remembers telling a friend, at age 4, that she was on a diet. Her bizarre tale includes not only the usual puking and starving, but also being confined to mental hospitals and growing fur (a phenomenon called lanugo, which nature imposes to keep a body from freezing to death during periods of famine). Her weight had dropped to 52 pounds and doctors in the emergency room gave her only a week to live. She left the hospital, decided she wanted to live, then walked back and signed herself in for treatment. This is not a quick or an easy read. Hornbacher talks about possible causes for the illnesses and describes feeling isolated, being in complete denial, and not wanting to change or fearing change, until she nearly died. Young people will connect with this compelling and authentic story.
In other news that no one cares about, my first pilates class kicked my ass. I'm going back for another tomorrow. New gym membership close to school = my new existence as a complete gym rat. This makes me very happy. Real update soon, I promise!
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, February 16th, 2006
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Wednesday, February 15th, 2006
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PLEASE FILL THIS OUT AND ADD IT TO YOUR JOURNAL, TOO!
1. screen name:
2. birthday:
3. place of residence:
4. what makes you happy:
5. what are you listening to now/have listened to last:
6. do you read my lj:
7. if you do, what is particularly good/bad about it:
8. an interesting fact about you:
9. are you in love/have a crush at the moment:
10. favourite place to be:
11. favourite lyric:
12. best time of the year:
13. weirdest food you like:
14. do farts make you laugh:
RECOMMEND
1. a film:
2. a book:
3. a band, a song and an album:
PLUS
1. one thing you like about me:
2. two things you like about yourself:
3. put this in your lj so i can tell you what i think of you.
4. Optional: POST A PICTURE OF you:
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, January 26th, 2006
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Ok, because the last post was SUCH a downer, here are some of the latest pictures of me. Everyone likes pictures, right?
( Read more... )
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Comments: Read 16 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, January 25th, 2006
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The first week of December, I was in a horrific motorcycle accident. 50-60 MPH with no helmet, hitting the pavement with my face and hands. I've recovered VERY quickly and look great in comparison, but my scars have begun to turn PURPLE! I have a purple nose, which will probably be there for a couple years. This accident lead to $6,000 in hospital bills. I have no insurance and was fired because I had to take time off to recover by my evil boss. I got another job and all seemed well, but yesterday the new boss told me there was some confusion and that I could not work full time, only part time. This is VERY scary as far as paying bills. I'm a college student who is already beginning to screw up a BRAND new semester and when I get anxious about that, I screw up even more!! ARG.
My December rent check bounced and my kind and lovely landlady has allowed me time to pay it very late. I also still haven't paid January's rent and January is now almost over. I have no idea where to find money. And the worst part... The night before last, a horrible thing happened while I was visiting my parents' at their house in Altamonte. We've had a cat named Daisy (because I was a little girl when I named her!) who we've had since I was five years old. I will be twenty-five this year. She would have been a twenty year old cat, in the first week of March. Most cats only live until 15, and even then, they are VERY old and have health problems. We estimate that Daisy might have had 5 more years in her, so strong was she. Well.. I think you can tell from my use of the past tense where this is going.
She died. But not of disease or old age. My father came home from a business trip around 10:00pm and never even knew that he had accidentally ran her over in the driveway. She lay there for two hours by the time we found her. My mother went looking for her at Midnight to take her to bed with her. The scene after that was one of the most horrible in my life.
I was on the side of my parents' house, outside, smoking. I heard my mother's voice SCREAMING and waling in the most inhuman way, echoing across the neighborhood. It was very late at night so I panicked and thought she was hurt in a terrible way. I sprinted around the front of the house, through their yard that seemed too large, at the time. I found my mother in the garage holding Daisy in her arms in hysterics, screaming that "He killed her! She's dead! Oh my god!" We went into the laundry room connected to the garage and I started bawling immediately. My mother gets very irrational when emotionally but my father has always been VERY level headed. They are exact opposites. My father came into the laundry room and started to sob. This was the third time in my near twenty-five year life I have ever seen him cry. I know it's just a cat, but my family has lived with this amazing being for twenty years.
My mother kept petting Daisy and talking to her, saying she was so sorry. She refused for two hours, as rigimortis began to set in, to acknowledge that Daisy was dead. She kept saying she felt so warm and that she thought she felt a heartbeat. It was heart wrenching. My father sobbed and repeated over and over like a mantra that he didn't know, that he was so so sorry, and he would take it back it he could. Part of Daisy's face was smashed in. Tires had caved in part of her head. Blood was soaking my mother's pajamas. We stayed and cried there with Daisy's corpse for two hours. Eventually I went to find a large enough box, lined it with towels, and convinced my mother to lower her in so we could bury her. My mother finally believed her dead but then wanted the other cats to be brought in to see her and "Say goodbye." My father thought this would be a terrible idea, that it would only upset them and they wouldn't understand. Mom insisted, in her grief, that they should be able to say goodbye so we did it to appease her. We brought all three of their other cats to peer into the box, which made them shrink away and run. I felt like we were torturing them and I did not know what was the right thing to do. Horrible.
The part that haunts me the most is that we have no idea how long she was alive and suffering after she was hit. Her face was MUCH narrower than it naturally was and she had obviously been hit at her head, but she was not a pulpy disfigured mess, really. She could have laid there dying and alone for as much as two hours. This is the worst thought for me. I'm so sorry for unloading to people who do not neccessarily know me and don't have to care, but I am sobbing uncontrollably as I type and it is very hard to see the keys. The whole thing was terrible and I had to be the strong one to find a box and towels and take care of practicalities while my parents, one of whom is always the strong one, were a puddle of anxious grief-stricken tears. I have been crying off and on since this incident but I haven't yet had time to have a good cry like I'm having right now.
I hate that she died this way. I hate not knowing if she suffered. I imagine what it is like to die alone, suffering, taking possibly two hours to die as you bleed and have no one to call out to. No one with you, all alone. I think about myself and my sadness and insane pressures and horrible thoughts and circumstances lately. I think about how I can't talk to most of my friends about much of my thoughts and I realize this is why I needed to post to anyone who will listen. She must have felt so helpless and futile, in so much pain. So alone, with only her despair. Maybe I'm projecting, huh?
The next day as I felt GUILT for having pockets of my day devoted to errands and school and routine, I forgot about what happened the night before to Daisy. Then I would remember and feel immense guilt for letting her slip my mind. Then more tears. I hate myself. I hate my life lately. And I have had SO many bad things happen to me for over a year now, its unbelievable! For a year now, I've had a friend die of a drug overdose, lost two best friends who turned hateful for reasons I can't fathom (or seem let go, because I can't fathom why they decided to behave so hatefully out of nowhere! Not to mention, I feel like a LOSER for still caring while they obviously never did.), broken up with a boyfriend who was wrong for me but who I stayed with because of fear of being alone (I really am pathetic sometimes), had a near death health problem which I could not afford, another near death motorcycle accident costing me thousands of thousands of dollars that I do not have, two job losses essentially, and general turmoil that is proving REALLY hard to handle.
My friends generally know me as outgoing, fun, always positive. But I'm also known to have lots of drama in my life. And nobody wants to be around that. So I stay positive in front of them. I have no one to vent to and finally, I am breaking down. I realize that I've been riddled with something ELSE, evvvery time people talk to me, it seems. But I hope that people also realize I do not go looking for it. I can't think of any of my problems as anything I had any power or control over. I hope I am not percieved as someone who seeks it out. Last night, while lamenting a bit, and with what I thought was a good natured smile on my face, someone jokingly said that every time they talk to me it's something else and that talking to me "made [their] back hurt, just listening to it all!" I can't tell you how depressing that is for me. I dont' want this, any of it! Believe me, I'm suffering through it more than the people who have to hear about it. I myself hate talking with people who are ALWAYS down in the dumps, but what can I possibly do to change these things? These thoughts make me refrain from posting anything on LJ until I have GOOD news to share and it makes me smile and socialize but never tell anyone what's going oin with me. This just makes this awful for me. Its very lonlely. I am so sorry for pouring all this out to you all who I haven't even commuicated with much, if at all. Thank you for reading, if you did. I think I feel a little better now. From now on, I will talk to more of you. I want to support my friends as much as you need. I know you are all real people with real problems, like me. I want to reach out and help more people in my life, maybe it'll make it easier to help myself.
with gratitude,
-Kelly. (AIM: KeIIy Bang Email: KellyBang@gmail.com) <-- Needy much?? hehe
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Comments: Read 28 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, January 5th, 2006
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Just to let anyone who reads this know, I was in a motorcycle accident the first week of December and got banged up pretty badly. Wearing no helmet, like a proper moron, doing 50 mph, the back brake locked up and threw us over the handlebars and onto the pavement in a bloody smear. I suppose thankfully, I still have absolutely zero recollection of the accident or several minutes beforehand. We only know those details because there was a witness.
Doing fine now, though. But I'm presently bleeding. In my BRAIN! Not enough to put a shunt in to drain it, and it has slowly lessened, but it's been giving me personality changes and making me kindof... wacky. But dude. As I type this, I am bleeding. In my brain.
HOW COOL IS THAT??
( Pictures Galore! )
Hope you all had a Merry Christmas :-D
Not to worry though. I'm healing exponentially quickly. It's amazing how swollen your face can get. Sorry about the blurriness of some of these, it's just a lil camera phone.
( More pictures... )
Here's a picture from last week (new haircut too! Well.. my hair was falling out from shock so it needed to be cut anyhow. Good thing I'm not too attached to it.) You can't see the scars in the photo because I covered them with makeup and the lights were very bright. But I look human again! Yaaay!
( Getting better... )
And a couple from New Year's Eve. Just call me fancy pants.
( Woo hoo for pictures and lj cuts! )
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Comments: Read 15 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, November 10th, 2005
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 | You scored as The Femme Fatale. You're carefree, dark and adventurous...and slightly fatale to the heart.
The Femme Fatale | | 80% | The Surprise! Dyke | | 65% | The Student Dyke | | 65% | The Stud | | 60% | The Sprightly Elfin Femme | | 60% | The Hipster Dyke | | 55% | The Little-Boy Dyke | | 50% | The Quasi-Gothic Femme | | 45% | The Vaginal-Reference-Making Dyke | | 45% | The Pretty-Boi Dyke | | 40% | The Granola Dyke | | 40% | The Magic Earring Ken Dyke | | 25% | The Bohemian Dyke | | 15% | </td>
What Type of Lesbian Are You? (Inspired by Curve Mag.)
created with QuizFarm.com |
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, October 26th, 2005
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You're cordially invited, gentle readers! Click the link for details on the best Halloween Party this side of the Hellmouth!
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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singingtelegram's journal
amused.
contemplative.
giddy.
crushed.