Tuesday, October 21, 2014

The Squid Incident

As I have mentioned before, I grew up in a pretty messed up family. And by messed up, I don't necessarily mean dysfunctional (we were that too), but just plain strange. My parents had the weirdest palette, enjoying things that should have never been yanked out of nature and slapped onto a plate. I have no problem with hunters, even though I never felt it was my calling. But seriously, when your mother sets a plate of skunk in front of you at the dinner table, something isn't normal. My mother used to cook all kinds of strange creatures, and when we moved from the US to Cape Town, South Africa, things just got worse. I'm not saying that my mom couldn't cook, in fact she was a wonderful cook. But when it comes to pickled field mice, I don't think there is any possible way to make it taste anything but plain nasty.
In Africa, people eat a lot of things that most Americans would run screaming from. For instance, horse milk, and camel meat. My parents, however, seemed to take the strange food as a challenge. My mother seemed determined to cook and eat every single creature that roamed the Motherland. Including every creature that swam the seas.
I'm serious. You haven't experience life until you've had to gag down a whale tongue steak. I've had to eat everything from rat meat to horse milk. But nothing compared to the time my mother cooked squid. My mother was a wonderful cook, but her methods of making food were a little lacking. In summary, she cooked everything in a cast iron skillet. Steak, pizza, antelope, you name it.
My older brother was the only one who actually enjoyed trying all the unusual foods, and one day down at a local Green Market near Somerset Beach in Cape Town, he found a tank filled with live squid, and begged my mom to make it for us. Of course she accepted the challenge.
And so she heated up her cast iron frying pan, slapped the still squirming squid inside, and proceeded to heat it into a slimy gelatinous mess of tentacles and suckers. I won't even begin to describe the smell that filled the kitchen. It tasted like burned watermelon, with a hint of vomit. It was then that I decided that I needed to learn to cook, because I was sure that I was going to shrivel up and turn into something horrible if I continued to consume the strange food my mother created.
I can say, that I can not stand most seafood now.
I will spare you all the image of the squid.
I can guarantee you do not want to see it.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

So, I heard this remix to only time the other day.
In summary, AWESOME.

Monday, October 13, 2014

What Happens On the Band Bus....

Me wearing my ridiculously spangled marching uniform,
and playing my saxophone. There's weed in the bell.
you just cant see it.
One of the best memories I have of high school is band camp. Which I know makes me sound like a complete and total dork, but I'm not. I am not a penis. In face, at my high school, band was cool. We had cheerleaders, and football players, and all kinds of other people in our school band. I mean I was the captain of the dance team, and I tore it up on the marching field. Besides the fact that our school band was totally kick ass, why wouldn't you want to sign up for the opportunity to leave school early to beat a drum and go crazy on the band bus?
I was in high school band since the eighth grade. Yep, I was that bad ass of a musician. I started out as second chair saxophone, and I hated not being the center of attention, so naturally, I worked my ass off, and be freshman year, I beat out the upperclassmen for first chair. Which meant I got to play some pretty epic music, and tell the seniors what to do. Because in music, seniority is based on experience and skill, not age. Well beside the face that being in band was just epic in itself, no other school program could compare to band camp.
While the athletes were sweating their asses off (figuratively)doing two-a-day practices, we got to sit inside in the air-conditioning, play awesome music, and eat rainbow cupcakes. Now band camp wasn't a total piece of cake. We did have to learn the choreography for field shows which required us to stand at attention on a football field in the blazing sun whilst trying to decipher diagrams mapping the formations we were supposed to create, and silently mouth "What the fuck" behind our instruments. In the end, though it was totally worth it because our field shows were always bomb.
Well, at least most of them were. But in our defense, the music teacher was new, and the last teacher hadn't done shit, so pretty much, we were starting from scratch. In our first show, we played the Hey song minus one trumpet player because I had choked him out for making fun of me prior to the show. (I was a troubled little eighth grader). Anyway, it turns out you don't win competitions playing the Hey song without a first chair trumpeter. Anyway we were so dejected after that miserable season, that we worked our tushes off, and kicked ass the next season. Our band teacher Mr. Hercules (that's his real name, no lie) left to complete his music degree. So my freshman year, we had a director with much less experience. Mrs. Coon was still a bad ass when it came to marching band, and the band season with her was totally awesome. She had an epic sense of humor, and let us play songs like Jump on It, and Louie Louie in parades. Also she introduced color guard to our band. So when we marched in shows and parades, we had a bunch of girls in sparkly outfits dancing to our music. Which made our band awesomer (is that a word? Awesomer? Apparently not according to to SpellCheck) because we had sparkles. I remember the songs we played. We played Oye Como Va, All That Jazz, Hey Big Spender and Maria from Westside Story. We still didn't win anything until my senior year though.
But enough about random songs and shit. I know all you people are waiting to hear the dirt about band camp. Well to be honest, there isn't much dirt that happened at band camp since band camp was on school property, and under the watchful eye of the cameras on campus. The REAL crazy stuff happened on the band bus. On the way to and from competitions. I watched my friend lose her virginity on the band bus. I mean literally, watched them get it on. Because they were right in the seat directly across the aisle from me, and my friend had one of her legs in my lap. I smoked a bong for the first time on the band bus.  I watched a clarinet player lick a cat butt on the band bus, and saw a percussionist get his penis stuck in a sousaphone. So pretty much, if something crazy was going to happen at all, it was going to happen on the band bus.
The truly awesome thing about being in band is that band season lasted all year long. In the fall we had marching band. In the spring, we had concert band. So yeah it was Pretty Fucking Awesome, Concert Band was a different matter all together. We would go to competitions at Hannibal LaGrange University, and our director would leave to go speak with the judges, leaving us surrounded by the super hot members of other high school bands, and drop-dead-sexy college kids. Which as you can probably guess, never ended well. You didn't have to look very far to see music students and college kids either hooking up, or smoking weed out of their instruments. I'm sure our instructor knew what was going on, but as long as we weren't getting pregnant, getting too high to play music, or otherwise embarrassing our school, he probably couldn't care less. Pretty much, being in band allowed you to get stoned at school functions. Personally, I was the one musician in the practice room actually practicing. I loved the music we played, and when I wasn't playing(or smoking out of) my saxophone, I was playing the piano, composing songs, and practicing competition pieces. I love music, and so almost every opportunity I got, I would practice, and try to make myself better.
Me playing jazz piano at a concert.
I know. My hair looks terrible.
I guess its paid off, because not to toot my own horn, but I am on of the best pianists I know. I play from the soul.
And that just got hella cheesy. But oh well. I like cheese. Especially string cheese, because it's the sexiest of all the cheeses. It's like you get to undress it. Seriously, the person who invented string cheese is a genius.
Anyway, back off the weird little tangent I just went on, I love music. Correction, I love good music, Even more specifically, I love making good music.
My senior year of band was by far the most epic. We finally won some awards, and our marching season was kick ass. I mean we were the only band that broke it down in the marching field. Literally, our field show had dance moves choreographed my yours truly (with a little help from our director of course). We were so damn boss. And we went crazy on the band bus afterward. I'd go into detail, but as you all know, what happens on the band bus stays on the band bus.

Ok you're probably sitting there going, really? That was it? She entitles this post 'What Happens on the Band Bus..." and then proceeds to tell us everything but what happens on the band bus. Dafuq?

Well to tell you the truth, what happens on the band bus really does stay on the band bus. But since I love y'all, I'm gonna let you in on some of the things that took place on the band bus.

1. We did homework.
I can literally feel some of you rolling your eyes already, but this was high school y'all. We had homework.

2. We played music.
More eye rolling. Stop it.Your eyeballs are going to fall out of your head. It was a Band bus. We practiced our music.

3. We stripped down to our underwear.
I can practically hear your dirty little minds turning. You perverts. We wore marching uniforms, and they were extremely uncomfortable. So naturally we waited until the last possible minute to change into them. Which happened to be on the band bus. Believe me, it was a lot less sexy than it sounds.

4.We drank
Soda! We were all underage and even though we did smoke weed on the band bus, we weren't dumb enough to try to compete in field shows drunk.

5. We smoked weed.
In moderation, and of course never before a performance. We needed to be at the top of our game. After the field shows, though we got baked as Fuck. Once it was dark. And the bus already smelled like musky sweaty wool marching uniforms. With the windows down, you couldn't smell a thing. Though I suspect our teacher knew what was going on.

6. We got laid. Well some of us did. I didn't. But as I already mentioned earlier, hookups were fairly common in band. Not to mention all the kinky things you could do with the instruments. Things I've never done personally, but as the weed seat and the fuck seat were directly across from each other in the back of the bus, yeah, I saw a lot of disturbing things being done with all kinds of instruments.
And No. I'm not going into detail. Use your imagination.

7. We sang songs.
A lot of the band members were part of the school choir, and vice versa. So a lot of random harmonic singing broke out on the band bus.

8. We twerked.
Well, at least I did. Because I like to twerk. Ok, pretty much, I was the only person who twerked on the band bus. But twerking is epic. And I twerk. Therefore I am epic

9. We slept together.
 Not like that you nasty little people! Marching in field shows is exhausting. Seriously. You try blowing a horn whilst running all over a football field while marching in step. It will wear you out. So on the way home after we got our buzz on, or had our orgasms or whatever, we usually ended up passed out asleep.

10. We watched a trombone player urinate out the window while we were on the highway.
It was very disturbing. That is all I wish to say about it.

11. We also watched a nymphomaniac from another band give a flute a blowjob.
Also very disturbing.

12. We overwhelmed McDonald's employees.
A band runs on its stomach. We could literally see the dread on the faces of the McDonald's employees when our bus full of loud teenagers holding metal objects pulled into the parking lot. I could almost swear they drew straws to see who would have to man the cash registers. What can I say? We were terrifying.

13. We mixed chemicals.
No we weren't making bombs, but somebody brought their Advanced Chemistry 'homework'along, and was mixing Hydrochloric acid, and a bunch of other chemicals in the backseat. Of course it exploded. And melted part of a snare drum before we could figure out what the smell was. I guess we were lucky it wasn't ammonia and bleach or we all would have asphyxiated and died. Also we gave a band member a neon purple hair dye job with bottled water and a Ziploc bag to rinse the dye out with. We stuck her head out the window to dry it, and surprisingly it turned out pretty good,

14. We cooked.
The same student with the Hydrochloric Acid brought a portable Bunsen burner with him, and after a quick trip to Walmart for a pot and some ingredients, we all chipped in and made shrimp gumbo in the bus. It smelled pretty good until the bus hit a bump, and the burner slipped and burnt a hole in the seat. The gumbo tasted pretty good though.

15. We gave breast exams.
One clarinet player was convinced she had breast cancer. We all told her she was a hypochondriac, but she told us she was positive she felt a lump. So we being the good friends we are pulled up the directions for a mammogram on somebodies iPad, stripped her naked from the waist up, laid her down across a seat, and proceeded to give her a breast examination. (It wasn't as weird as it sounds. We'd all pretty much seen each other naked, and more than half the band was gay).
Anyway it turns out the lump was just her nipple. Her boobs were health as a horse. Well as healthy as a healthy as a healthy horse anyway. It would have sucked if she was as healthy as a sick horse. That would have just been bad.

Pretty much the band bus is a place where the weirdest, strangest, funniest, nastiest, craziest things happened. And every one is okay with it. Because it's the Band Bus.
What can I say?

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed hot_tunes♪♫

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Rabbits, and Me

Me as a kid and Snowbelle who is stuffed in my pocket and glaring at me.
I've always been an animal lover. Ever since I was little, I was always "rescuing'' animals from "situations".
For instance, I would "rescue" frogs and tadpoles from the dirty pond water, and "stray" cats from from my neighbors back yard.
My family had plenty of pets, and I loved every single one of them (that is, except for my brother's tarantula), but I never had a pet I could truly call my own, until Snowbelle.
Snowbelle was an albino white rabbit. I carried her around with me everywhere. To be honest, thinking back, I kinda feel sorry for that bunny. I mean if I had to put up with a girl who was obsessed with dressing me up in babydoll clothes, and stuffing me into the pockets of every single outfit she wore, I would be a fairly miserable rabbit.
But in all actuality, I loved that bunny with all my heart. I used to hold Snowbelle in my lap at the dinner table, and feed her salad off my plate. Every night I would tuck her in bed next to me, and she would snuggle up next to me. Which as a kid, snuggling with a bunny was the most magical thing, because, like, no one had rabbits. So I was the awesome kid who could walk around saying, "Check out this bunny bitches!!" (Maybe not that exactly since I was like eight years old at the time, but you get the idea).
I love rabbits. I always have. I used to want to be a rabbit, because, one Christmas, my mother decided to read The Velveteen Rabbit to my brothers and me. And let me tell you, I truly believed, with all my heart, that if the stuffed rabbit could become a real rabbit, then sure as hell, so could I. I used to sit up in bed every night, and fold my little hands, and do that stupid thing from Pinocchio, where you see the evening star, and say

"Star Light, Star Bright
First Star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight"

And then of course instead of wishing that a wooden puppet would become a real boy (which is incredibly creepy), I would wish that I could become a real rabbit.
Yep. I was that fucked up of a kid.
I think I was the only child ever to want to become a rabbit instead of the usual, princess, rock star, or vet. But I just had this thing about rabbits.
Me and Cupcake. The best
rabbit/human duo ever.
Anyway, I had Snowbelle until I was eleven, and then my family had to move so I had to get rid of Snowbelle. My mother, being the kind and compassionate person that she is, instead of taking Snowbelle to an animal shelter, or giving it to a family who would have taken good care of her, handed off my poor little bunny to some random lady in the parking lot of the Pick 'N' Pay downtown. Needless to say, I was heartbroken, and fairy convinced that my mother had just supplied dinner for the woman.
I spent the rest of my childhood rabbitless, because I just could not get over the fact that my mother fed my Snowbelle to some lady at the Pick 'N' Pay. In high school, I finally worked up the courage to get another rabbit (most likely because I was no longer living with my mother, and felt more confident that this bunny wouldn't end up as a meal this time). I named her Cupcake. She was a miniature lop-ear rabbit, and she was epic because I could lay her on her back, and she would fall asleep, and stay upside down like that for hours with her feet in the air.
I entered her in a rabbit show at a county fair one year, because I was convinced that everyone needed to see her upside-down trick.
It was epic. I won first place, and a position of eternal weirdness in the minds of my friends. Because the captain of the Showgirl Dance Team, should not be engaging in something as loserly as a county fair.
Me and my friend Brooke, first and second place
at the Shelby County fair. And of course Cupcake,
and her trophy, and ribbon.
But I didn't care, because my bunny was awesome, and now everyone knew it.
Cupcake died about a year later of heatstroke.
And the wonderful roommates I had at the time decided to bury her next to the septic tank in the neighbors backyard without informing either me or the neighbors. I didn't even know she was dead until I noticed a shovel leaning up against her cage.
So as you can assume, that situation turned out pretty fucking awesome. As in I was emotionally traumatized over a rabbit again.
Story of my life.
Anyway, I should let you all know  that I no longer have the desire to be a rabbit, much less own one, as that situation was way too emotionally scarring for me.
I am now officially a cat person.
That is all.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

As you all know, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. 
I invite you all to join me on October 13th for No Bra Day. 
Let 'em swing, and show your support!!

Post-Its I May Or May Not Have Written During My Lifetime

Who took my toaster out of the refrigerator?

To the family member who placed a live rabbit in the freezer, you are a sick, sick little person. I am resuscitating it in the bathroom sink, and if it dies, I hope all of your hair falls out

Limes for sleepover margaritas


Remember to call grandma and remind her to get her dildos off the dining room table before dinner tonight.

Don't forget to look up that cute guys' Facebook page.

Topless protest tomorrow.

To the person who ate all of my marijuana cupcakes, I curse your high. May you see rainbows and flying unicorns, and have a sever allergic reaction. 

Baby, I will be gone today, because I saw the cutest kitten in an alleyway downtown, and I have taken the day off to try and rescue it. Also there's a huge spider in the bathroom. Would you kindly dispose of it? Kisses!!!

Don't park so close. I hardly know you.

Have a wonderful day! :)

Why is there a traffic cone with a dildo stuck in the top of it in the middle of the living room?

Tell nana to wash the sheets

Shopping list:

Dear family,
Ignore the man with the boa constrictor in the living room. He is there because I want him to be. Also I want his accordion, so I'm going to try to sweet talk him into giving it to me.

This live trout needs to stay in the bathtub until I can find a pond to put him in. 
I rescued him from a fisherman, and he has had a very traumatic day. So be nice to him.

The trout has been transferred to a life-raft filled with water in the backyard. I have named him Mister Bojangles, and I love him.

This is not Friday. This is MY day.

Please leave a tail hanging on the toilet-paper after use.

To the woman screaming and moaning in room 34c, if you are being tortured, call the police. I do not need to hear when you are "coming".

I do not know your name, but you have been seen stealing my butter. Put it back, or I will lick everything on your desk.

As you have failed to return my butter, I hope you enjoy this carton of worms, and the jug of Voodoo that I have placed in your cubicle.

The Voodoo is real.

Baby, you left a wet towel on the floor since it appears you do not care about it, I gave it to Mister Bojangles to play with.

Baby, I wish you would stop leaving little witty replies on the ends of my Post-Its because as you know, they're all I have.


To the person who decided to make a cocktail out of my candy dish, you are dead inside.

Baby, since I have run out of Post-Its, I am writing this on the at in order to tell you that I am going to Office Max to get more.
Also the cat and Mister Bojangles need fed.
Do Not Feed Them To Each Other.

Baby, I am ill, and will remain so until you bring me something deep fried and smothered in Nutella. You will find me in the backyard mourning the passing of Mister Bojangles the trout. He and I were very close.

I have placed another trout in the bathtub. I will name him Humperdink. Humperdink is a rainbow trout. Therefore he is lucky.

Shopping list:
Blue pens
JB Weld

Remind grandma to get her dildos out of the front lawn.

Baby, these red velvet cookies are especially for you. Enjoy! I love you!

Why don't we have a rabbit?

I am putting this Post-It on the mirror to let y'all know that the cinnamon toothpaste is Mine.

Honey, I just want you to remember that no matter how alone you feel, you are never alone. (There are literally millions of bacteria all over you). Have a wonderful day! :)

I hit your car as I was leaving the parking lot. I'm sorry but you should know that it was an evil Decepticon. I have disposed of him for you. You're welcome.

To whoever left explosive burrito ooze all over the microwave, fuck you.
From all of us.

Do not attempt to reason with me when I'm high. I will probably tackle you and kiss you to get you to shut up.

This bubble gum was so good, I just couldn't let you miss out on the flavor explosion. I only had one piece, so I stuck what was left of it to this Post-It so you may too enjoy it.

Kick me.

Free hugs.

Hello, my name is: None Of Your Damn Business.

I have placed a live squirrel in this box for safekeeping. I am going to play with it later. Do not touch it. It is Mine.

I cleaned the entire apartment today. I deserve a margarita, don't you think?

Who took my hairdryer out of the microwave?

I have planted a lime tree in the flowerbed because I head that leprechauns like them. If any of you sees a leprechaun, inform me immediately.

I want Nutella.

This Post-It is here because some one left a partially eaten celery stalk in MY Nutella. You should know that the Nutella lovers of the world hate you.

Baby, I have had an extremely trying day, and so you will find me in the living room playing MarioKart. Beer is in the fridge. I challenge you to the race of a lifetime.

Shopping list:
Fairy Wings
Kool Aid

Please wash the car. Kisses!

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Not With Me, You Don't

So I'm feeling hopeful, and also scared to death of life right now. I had an offer to work as a live-in caregiver for a wounded veteran, but After just staying in the same apartment with him for a few days, I can Not imagine living with him for a year. I mean, I am pretty sure laying next to your patient, and "letting him have some body heat" is not in the job description. Neither is selling marijuana, and prescription pills. Also, I don't recall sleeping in bed with him and his wife, to 'put pressure against his chest' being in the paperwork. Not to mention, he is one of the most controlling, rude, conceited people I have ever met. Now don't get me wrong. Everything he has done with the military and fighting for this country has made him earn my respect. I respect his sacrifice for freedom, but I will not let him use me for a cuddle buddy and or anything else. What disturbs me even more, is the way he treats his wife. Like she's a slave or something, and I am not about to sign up for that for a year. The way he just wants me to completely cut off my social life, relationships with friends, family, and significant others bothers me. I barely even know him, and he just wants me to leave everything to sit quietly by his side, and massage his back. Yeah, no. When I left this morning for good, he tried to tell me how money was more important than friends, or family, because personal relationships aren't going to pay the bills. Well, no they're not going to put cash in my pocket, but true friendship is much more important than money. Money can be gone in a heartbeat, but a friend will always be there. Yeah, it sounds like a good opportunity; take care of someone for a year, and have college tuition, and cash to spare. But I'm not going to sit around being someone's Stepford slave.  I may not be rich, and yeah, I have a shitty place to live right now, but I'm young. that's just the way life is. I may not have much, But I do have freedom to do whatever I want, and 'give body heat' to whoever I want. And I'm sorry if whoever I want is not a 51 year old man.
I don't mind taking care of basic needs like cleaning, and cooking, and whatnot, but there is nothing in my paperwork about mandatory personal contact, so I am going to have to look for other opportunities elsewhere.
I will not be used by anyone.
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Trying To Move On

So an update on what's been going on with me...
I am now officially single. Things were going downhill, and so he ended it. Even though I was considering ending things anyway, I still miss him. Like hella bad. It's crazy. Everywhere I go, I see things that remind me of him. And I feel ridiculous for feeling this way. I guess, I just fell harder than I had expected. I'll get over it of course. I'll move on, and find someone new. 'I just wish saying goodbye wasn't so damn difficult. I wish I could stop thinking about all the good times we had together, and realize that it was never going to work out anyway. I'm just being a little immature right now, but I'll get over it.
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed hot_tunes♪♫


I've been told that a lot of people can be defined by their favorite color. In my case, my favorite color is purple. When I looked up what the color purple said about a persons personality, it said that if your favorite color is purple, you are a peaceful and tranquil person, and you have a quiet dignity about you. This is strange because I rarely feel peaceful or tranquil, but so many people ask me "How do you stay so calm?" and "Doesn't anything bother you?". I guess I don't appear to be stressed on the outside ever. It makes so sense to me. My boyfriend once said that the fact that I always seem so peaceful was one of his favorite things about me. I mean I don't think there is really such a thing as a truly peaceful or tranquil person; life is too unpredictable for that. But I do think that there are people who have a bigger capability for peace than other people. A better understanding of the way life can make things more or less difficult for people. I don't necessarily believe I have a big capacity for peace. It's probably something dysfunctional with my facial muscles that makes me seem so peaceful all the time. Someone told me that I always seemed cool and content today, and I almost laughed out loud. I mean right now with the way by boyfriend has been acting lately, I feel just about everything but peaceful or content.
Another characteristic of a purple personality is creativity which I can definitely relate to. I've always been creative and artistic. From the way I dress, to the music I write, I love the unconventional. I love to stand out. When I was younger, I went to private schools which required me to wear school uniforms. Now if there is one thing I hate, it's looking the same as other people. I hate blending in, being invisible. I used to always do crazy things with my hair, like dying it purple or blue, and wearing crazy shoes. My creativity and originality applies to my music in the way I hate playing music written by someone else. Now that doesn't mean I refuse to play music written by others, I of course play the music of the great composers, but I would much rather play something I made up.  
Purple is a powerful color. Purple is the strongest wavelength of the spectrum. Purple is also a very rare color when you look at nature; there are very few purple plants, animals, or fruits. Purple was also the hardest color to create dyes for clothing; it takes almost 12,000 shellfish to make about 1.5 grams of pure purple dye, barely enough to completely cover a roman toga back in the day. Purple is powerful because of it's rarity, but also in the confidence it takes to rock the color purple. Back in the day, only royalty wore purple. Purple was the color of wealth and of power.
I don't see myself as wealthy or powerful, but I know there is strength in the color. And there is strength in me.
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed hot_tunes♪♫

Saturday, August 23, 2014

....And Then Things Fall Apart

I know I might sound like a generic jealous girlfriend, but I don't think I can trust my boyfriend anymore. I read some of his text messages (don't judge, his phone was right there, and he doesn't have a phone lock), I mean there were some typical guy-ish text messages: "I'm surrounded by sexy girls right now" and messages of the sort that guys always send to their other guy friends, so those didn't bother me really. What did bother me though were the text messages he sent to this girl, lets's call her Sally. I mean he was talking to her like they were in a full blown relationship, calling her babydoll (which is my nickname) and telling her how much seeing her made him happy, and how she spoke like poetry (WTF?). Her responses didn't bother me, and if I met her, I wouldn't have any issues with her. Her texts back to him stated that she was already in a relationship, and if he was dating me (he told her about me), why was he saying things like that to her?
And then the other night, which was supposedly our last night together before he did his time, he told me he was going to 7-Eleven, and that he was going to be gone for 20 minutes. Well the 20 minutes turned into 4 hours, and when he showed up, he was like ill. Like I mean projectile vomiting ill, though he was just fine when he left. I know some of you are probably thinking, well, sometimes you can get sick just like that. But he had just gotten over being sick. I'm not saying that it couldn't have just been bad luck for him, but I seriously doubt it.
Personally, I think he's doing drugs again. And that breaks my heart. But even if he's not, everything else, the lying, the texts, the distance is just getting to be to much. I want to trust him, and I'm trying not to judge him based on my ideas, but it's hard.
I mean from the fact that he never touches me anymore, to his secrecy is really making me wonder whether or not it's worth it to even attempt to continue this relationship. Right now, I'm thinking not.
But we'll see how things go.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

So Close, Yet So Far

So I've been dating this guy for about a month, and it's been great. But recently, he just seems uninterested.
He'll ask me over to spend the night, and spend the entire time staring at the tv. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not an attention junkie. I get it that clingy girls are a huge turnoff to guys, so I give him space. But every girl just needs to cling every now and then, am I right ladies? 
I mean, this is what a night at his place used to consist of: We would cuddle on the loveseat, and start a movie. About fifteen minutes in, we would give up on the movie, and instead opt for a steamy makeout session which in turn would lead to us giving up on the loveseat, and tripping over each other to get get to his room, and well you can figure out the rest.
Now, a little over a week later, a night with him consists of this: We sit together on the sofa not really touching and start a movie. After the movie. He starts another movie, and I start to stare out the window. Around two in the morning we go to bed. He pats me on the back, kisses my forehead, rolls over, and goes to sleep. That's it.
I know for a fact that it's not the sex; he told me a little over a week ago that I'm a bombshell in bed. (Which I am, just saying.)
He was sick for a while, so I stayed away for about a week to let him recover.
Maybe it's just me, but I think that if a guy invites a girl over, he should make an effort to acknowledge her existence.
He did say he still wasn't feeling too hot which is why I didn't say anything to him. I just want him to want to come to me. I know I can make him feel better.
He has all this legal stuff coming up (he has to do some time), so I know he's under a lot of stress. But what I don't understand is why he won't let me help him relax, and take his mind off things. I don't mean he needs to make wild love or something (though I wouldn't be opposed that), but I just want him to know that I'm here. I love him, and even though he's going into the system for a time, I'll still be here when he gets out.
I just wish he wasn't so distant. I want us to work so badly.
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

On Edge

Have you ever had something so wonderful happen to you that your almost positive it won't last? Something so amazing that you spend every minute dreading the moment when it will disappear and break your heart. This is my predicament. I found him. And he's so sweet, and thoughtful, and so damn cute, and honestly, I'm on edge waiting for the moment when he tells me he can't be with me. That someone like me couldn't possibly think that he and I would last. I'm on edge waiting for the moment when I break his heart, or he breaks mine, because that's all I'm used to. Every minute I spend with him is amazing, but filled with dread for the inevitable. It's just that he's so sweet and loving. And if you know me, I am... well, not. Not that I don't love him, because I do, I just feel like my love isn't strong enough. I feel like I don't know how to love him, the way he deserves. Like if he knew me, my past, he wouldn't want to be anywhere near me. Deep down, I know that's not true; chances are, I'll be the one to break his heart. And I hate feeling like that. I want to love him for as long as he'll let me, but I don't know if I'm capable of that degree of love.
I'm emotionally unstable when it comes to relationships. I'm not insane, but I have a tendency to some fairly intense mood swings that no one should have to deal with. And thoughtfulness has never been one of my strong points. Seeing the little things to do to make someone smile does not come easily to me.  It's not that I don't think about him, I do all the time,but I don't know how to just be that person that unconsciously does things because I know it will make him smile. He's so good at that.  He says the sweetest things, and I have no idea what to reply back in return. I feel like I'm not giving him the love I want to give him because I don't know how.
I don't want us to end, and I will do everything in my power to make sure we don't, but I'm on edge wondering if it's enough.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Womanizing Not Allowed

One thing I forgot about being on the streets, is how people view me. People meaning men in particular. It amazes me how on a 98 degree summer day, if I walk down the street wearing shorts, or a sundress, so many  men feel as if they have the right to hit on me. To smack my butt. To assume I am a prostitute, and try to pick me up I don't understand our culture. How is it, that if a woman gets raped, most people assume that it was her fault? "She was asking for it" they say, as if that makes everything ok.
I'm sorry, since when is it wrong to wear shorts? It's hot outside. Just because I happen to look nice, does not give you the right to objectify me. Just because I'm black does not mean I'm gonna drop it and twerk for you. I'm not going to get into your car because you're sticking a fifty out the window at me.  I refuse to become some sex object just because media tells you it's ok to treat me as one. You know, I feel sorry for people who choose to view others as an object. I pity you, because it shows that you were treated the same way, and it's all you know.
I'm sorry, but just because I'm young and in shape does not mean I owe you a strip tease. Just because I dress nice does not mean that I dressed for your eyes. Yes, sometimes I wear clothes that make me sexier than the average person. I wear heels. I wear leather. I wear lipstick. I have wild hair. That's who I am. And when I am dressed in an outfit that appears sexy, I am still careful to carry myself with poise and grace. I am not a woman. I am a lady. I treat others the way I want to be treated. I don't believe in judging someone just by the way he or she looks; and when I am dressed modestly, I believe I deserve the same respect I give to everyone. Sure, I'm on the street, but I don't believe in acting "ratchet" just because that's what people assume I am. I am not a "big booty ho" I am not a hooker. I do not work the streets, and I would thank you kindly to realize that.
Predatory behavior is not only vulgar and disgusting. But it is illegal. You might think that whistling at a thirteen year old girl is giving her a compliment, but by law, it is considered as sexual harassment. Pulling up next to a girl on a street curb and telling her to "hop in" is abusive behavior, and is punishable by a large fine, and time in prison. Some people may take this lightly, but I believe everyone deserves respect.
You know that saying "You have to give respect to get it"?
Screw that.
Just give it, and the getting will take care of itself.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫i

Friday, June 13, 2014

Where I Belong

Do you ever just want a change of scenery? Ever just want to get away from it all? To become someone completely different? To adopt a new identity, and leave it all behind?
I did.
They're calling it the quarter life crisis. The same symptoms of a midlife crisis, only instead of going out and hooking up with people half their age, or buying sports cars, teens are changing completely. Finding their true identities and stepping out into the world completely different. Adopting their true personas, and seeking adventure.
Me? I decided to hit the streets. It's where I'm most comfortable, and where I feel like I belong. I was never meant to sit around in suburbia waiting for something exciting to happen.
So I decided to give up the comforts of home. Adopt my old name, dye my hair, and return to my real identity. I'm the girl who wears leather corsets, and bikini bottoms on a daily basis just because she can. I'm the girl who carries a knife in her studded boots, because she is not one to be messed with. I'm the girl who wears leaves a ring of red lipstick on her coffee cup, and blows kisses at whoever she wants to just because she can.
It's exciting, and even though it's familiar, it's strange. I've been living that middle class life for so long, I almost forgot what it was like to fend for myself out here. But I love it. Leaving was the best thing I think I've done in a while. Life on the streets is perfect for me. I can hit up every underground street dance competition, and not have any responsibilities. Some call me crazy. They say the streets are too dangerous for a teenage girl by herself. I just laugh. For someone like me the suburbs are a death trap.
I have street smarts. I know where it isn't safe for me to go after dark. I don't intentionally put myself in dangerous situations. I am always armed, and I know how to fight like hell.
I know how to keep myself safe, but I don't avoid sketchy situations just because they might not guarantee my safety. I've had my life threatened before. I've been shot. I've been stabbed. I've been attacked. I can honestly say that there is nothing on the street that truly scares me anymore. I have my connections of course. I never truly ride solo. If you want to survive on the street you can't. I don't run with the homies, but I have connections with them.
I love it here. And I honestly don't know if I ever want to go back. I tried that suburban life, and it's not for me. I can play my music and do my dance right here on the street where I belong. It's the life.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

The Other Side of the City

It's amazing how quickly it can all fall apart. How easily someone can snap leaving disaster in their wake. How suddenly hopes and dreams can shatter. How fast someone can go from having it all, to having nothing. How unexpectedly someones reality can collapse around them.
I've been lucky to always have enough, but as I've looked closer at the people in the community,around me, it makes me even more grateful for the things I do have. I don't mean the people in middle class suburbia, but the lowest of the low class. The 'bums' the homeless, the people who usually don't get a second glance in the street. If you look closely, you can see traces of the lives they used to live. The gold bangle on the girl leaning up against the cheap hotel waiting for her next customer. The way she speaks with a slight east coast accent. The rare shade of dye in her hair. It suggests that she once enjoyed the luxuries of the upper class before being cast out, or running away. The dirty man sitting on the sidewalk with a guitar, busking for his next meal. At closer glance, he is holding a Gibson Les Paul, an $1,600 instrument. The only remnant of a carefree youth spent playing music before the band split up, and fame drifted away to nothing, leaving him stranded with only a guitar and a shattered dream.
Observing these people is heart wrenching, and moving. This is why I have chosen to live among them for a while. I packed a backpack and took to the streets for the summer. I am now writing this in an inner city homeless shelter. I needed a break from family, and I needed a new perspective. So I'm here. And I love it. These people are so open and so friendly know all the secrets of the city. Where to go hear the best music. To meet the coolest people. All the underground street dance clubs. Places to connect with people I would never have met had I continued to live in oblivion. And well I know that I can always go back and resume my life at any point in time, I have no desire to return any time soon. This is my life now, and I love it.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Never Doing That Again

So I had a pretty miserable weekend.
One of my 'friends' invited me to go with him and his family to Summer Jam over the weekend. He and I had never been a thing (I'd made out with him a couple of times for some weed, but he is a horrible kisser). But unfortunately, he is really into me. I mean I never really gave him a reason not to be. Well anyway, since I really wanted to go to the concert, I decided to play the devoted girlfriend for the weekend. Let me just tell you, IT WAS MISERABLE!!! Not only was it hard to seem infatuated with him in front of his family, but the fact that I am completely disgusted with him as a person did not help at all.
I guess I shouldn't complain; I did get to see an awesome concert. But being there with him was just painful. For one thing, he has no sense of style. So when I come walking in looking awesome in my
leather corset, and studded leather boots (my standard uniform), and neon red hair, of course I'm turning heads. Getting compliments left and right, people asking me out on the spot, the usual. Well of course then he has to go acting all possessive because being with me made him feel cool or something. But he is so clingy. I mean constantly trying to hold my hand, and put his arms around me. Obviously trying to play up the whole "Check out my girlfriend" thing. I got so many pitying looks as we were walking, and when we went up to the pit, SO many people asked me why the hell I was with him. So many hot guys asked me to dance, and I couldn't dance with any of them. It was miserable. MISERABLE I tell ya! So many available cute guys who were interested in me, and I couldn't even give any of them my number. Anyway then that night, I hooked up with him so he would still think I was infatuated with him, but he is terrible in bed. I mean really awful. For starters, he's fat. And out of shape. And hairy. In other words, it was one of the worst nights I have ever had (with the exception of the night after that). Anyway, after that, he would not stop trying to cuddle me and pull me up against him. Uggghhh.
The next day wasn't any better. I rocked a neon bikini top and ripped jeans, and then of course he totally harshed my mellow with shorts made out of who knows what and hideous tennis shoes. Anyway, afterward, he asked me to spend the night at his house, and since it was like two in the morning, and I was half asleep, I said yes without thinking. Well it turns out that not only does he still live with his mom (that didn't really bother me since he is eighteen), but he shares a room with his little brother (WTF?). Not just a room, but a bunk bed with Superman sheets, in a room with Spiderman curtains, and a Disney Cars poster hanging on the wall. Needless to say, I could not get out of there fast enough. And I can say honestly that if you feel the need to keep your shirt on while getting it on, please stay the hell away from me.
But Monday, things got infinitely better. I went downtown to get some things done, and I got the usual amount of whistles and wolf calls. But one guy came up to me meaning to hook me up with his friend, but instead, we ended up talking, and walking, and sitting, and smoking, and drinking, and kissing, and one thing led to another, and we were getting it on on a fire escape. It was awesome. He is such a good kisser. We met up again today for lunch, and we talked and got to know eachother better. We didn't hold hands or kiss or anything, but I felt really close to him. He almost always picks up when I call, and he calls me back as soon as he can if he misses a call. We just hit it off.
It's funny how you can go from being miserable to having a great time in the space of just a couple days. We're going to see each other again, and I guess I'll see how things go :)
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed hot_tunes♪♫

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Who would I Be?

Today I was asked an interesting question. “If you could be any superhero, who would you be?”
I found this question interesting because in essence it asked, “Who would you be?”  At first the obvious generic answers flashed through my mind: Wonderwoman, Catwoman, Mystique, Storm, Black Widow; the heroes that everyone has come to know through the media. But as I thought about it, I began to realize that even if I had their superpowers, would I really want to be them? Would I want their personality instead of my own? Would I want their past, their memories? The more I pondered the question, the more apparent my answer became. If I could be any superhero, I would be myself. I don’t want someone else’s reasons for fighting evil. I wouldn’t want some else’s origins, or memories. Just like Batman’s identity stemmed from an event in his childhood, I would want my super identity to come from something within me; something in my personality unique only to me, and no one else.
My answer raised a few eyebrows. Everyone else who was involved in the conversation had given answers such as Wolverine, Flash, Hawkeye, Captain America, Spiderman, and Quicksilver; obvious answers that told me that they hadn’t truly understood the question.  I was asked why I had chosen that answer. Why, if I could have any superpower, would I choose to be regular old me? But then I stated that the question had not been “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” but “If you could be any superhero, who would you be?”  The question implied that I had to choose the identity of another individual, which after some thought, was something I did not want to do.  I did not however say that if I could have any superpower, I didn’t want one.
If I could be a superhero, I would be myself- only super of course. I wouldn't want all the powers of many of the famous heroes such as super strength, super speed, and laser vision. I wouldn't need them. If I could have any superpower, I would choose the power to control the five elements: Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. Super speed would be useless if I had the power to control Earth; in order to be super fast, you need something to run on. If you were to start to run, and I opened a chasm beneath you, no matter how fast you are, it would only be a matter of time before gravity took over, and you would be no more.  I would not need telekinetic powers if I controlled Air. I could use air pressure and wind to lift and move things at my will, and as for reading minds, I have no desire to know what’s going on in other people’s brains.  Fire, despite its destructive qualities can be a very useful tool when it comes to building and creating things. In the event of a military attack, there would be no need for countless people to die in defense. My ability to control Fire would not only eliminate the need for weapons and bombs, but paired with Earth would also be able to effectively eliminate entire troops of the enemy. Battleships would never make it near shore with my control of Water, if I so chose, I could sink them, or I could simply use water current to reroute them until they ran out of supplies and were forced to return to their own countries. Attacks from the air would also be as easy to prevent. There would never be a shortage of fresh produce, the ability to persuade Earth to grow orchards in seconds would make certain of that.  With the power to control wind, I would make sure there is plenty of wind for turbines to harvest energy, and in the case of a power shortage, a quick burst of lightning would instantly repower the city. And as for the Spirit element, I have no idea what it could be used for, but I am sure it would be both beautiful and deadly.
I would be a superhero without equal, but I wouldn’t abuse my powers. I have no interest in ruling over people, or being in command. I don’t want people to do my bidding, and the pressure of making decisions for the wellbeing of a nation would be far too stressful. I wouldn't want to be too well known, I wouldn't want people to worship the ground I walk on- or fly over, and heaven forbid I became anyone’s role model. I would just do what I know is required of every super hero: aid in the prevention of crime, and national security. I suppose like every other super hero, there would be a nemesis. A villain who never ceases to return no matter how many times I defeat them, someone who constantly creates havoc just to spite me. We would fight. They would be spectacular battles raging from one end of the city to the other, from dusk ‘til dawn, until my enemy was defeated for the time being.
I would have a costume of course; a black leather suit with my symbol emblazoned across the chest, a black cape, and boots. My name would be simply Element. The name the source of my identity and my power. And though I would be super, I would be me.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed hot_tunes♪♫

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Life and Spaghetti

Life is like a plate of spaghetti.  You spend all this time trying to figure out the twists and turns, all the tangles and knots of the noodles, and every once in a while you find a meatball. And it’s delicious, good times- times when the perfect opportunity presents itself just for you. When the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and the noodles are coated with the perfect mixture of butter, garlic, oregano, and basil. When you bite down on the meatball and it’s even more flavorful than you expected. But then it’s gone and you have to tackle the noodles and hard times once again. During those difficult noodle struggles it’s easy to just give up; drop your fork, stick your face in and just slurp. But then, whether or not you find a meatball, you end up in a stickier, messier situation then you were in the first place.
It’s hard to stay positive through those times.  To remind yourself that there is a meatball, a good time, an opportunity, around the next bend. This is the predicament I often find myself in; trying to keep my head up even though I know that it’s going to take me several turns to locate my meatball. Knowing that no matter whether or not I put down my fork, the chances that I’m going to find an opportunity are slim. Sometimes, I forget what it even felt like to taste a good moment.  Sometimes, I feel like the only thing left to do is to set down my fork and throw the entire plate of spaghetti in the trash. Give up completely, abandon the entire meal, and never pick up a fork again. Those are the times when even the delicious flavor of the noodles and spices cannot distract me from the fact that my life has become a hopeless tangle of knots and dead ends.
 But then I tell myself that, yes, even though these times are difficult, and it seems like there’s nothing else I can do, I’ve made it through situations just as tough and tangled as this one, and there’s no reason why I can’t do the same again. That even though my meatball may be countless noodles away, there is no reason why I can’t enjoy a forkful of perfectly coiled up flavorful spaghetti. I can make something good out of these tough times. They are a good opportunity for me to learn how to handle the kinks that are sure to come in the future. Those knots help me to realize that life is not all meatballs and good times (Honestly if it was, it would be really boring).
Through the noodles of life, sometimes it feels like I’m the only one struggling; like I’m the only one who hasn’t found a meatball. But no matter how much I feel that to be true, I know it’s not. That is a very selfish outlook on life, yet unfortunately it’s one I choose to view time and time again. Even looking outside my bedroom door, I see people who have spent years and years searching for their meatball; sometimes even managing to touch it with the tip of their fork before it rolls back into the twists and turns once again leaving nothing but a sense of hopelessness and frustration. These are the people who, if they were like me, would throw down their fork, and never pick it up again. But instead, again and again, they set aside the search for their meatball, in order to help others find theirs. Selflessly, they bear the knots in silence, in order to loosen the tangles in the plates of others. They help me realize that even though it might be tough at times, I love life. Life is beautiful. Life is ugly. Life is happiness. Life is pain. Why should that mean it’s not worth living?  Even though it can be difficult to eat, who doesn’t enjoy a plate of spaghetti?
Life is like a plate of spaghetti. It can be good. It can be bad. There are those instances when you want to dance around singing in a horrible fake Italian accent because you just tasted the perfect combination of sauce, spices, and noodles. Times where you feel things couldn’t get any better, and you’re truly happy. Then there are those times when a snarl you never expected throws itself in your path, and you want to give up and throw the entire dish down the disposal. But that’s the great thing about life. It’s a mystery. It is full of the unexpected.  It’s neither all good, nor all bad. It just is.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Hot... or NOT!!

Well I've only been off campus for a few days, and I gotta say, it is Not what I thought it would be. I'm in the exact place I was in last summer, and I am bored as hell.
I thought I was gonna get the whole summer hookup thing started or something with this dude I met on Hot or Not (sketchy, I know, but he seemed legit.) We chatted on Facebook for a while, and he seemed like a sweet -if not hella sexy- guy. But then I got a friend request from some creepy weird dude from Somewheresville California. I deleted the request, I mean, I had never met the guy, and I had already stretched my limits with cute Hot or Not dude. Well, then Hot dude proceeded to tell me what he had been lying to me the entire time. Both the Hot or Not account and the Facebook profile were fake, and he looked nothing like the person in his profile picture. So even though I was now officially weirded out, I asked him what he looked like, because I was curious. It turns out, the creepy dude from Somewheresville California was him! To make things even creepier, he's also a 20-something year old truck driver, and he was in town looking for me!!
I know, I know. You're probably all sitting there thinking, "Well what did she expect, she met this dude on the internet." Well in my defense, I've met someone on Hot or Not before, and he and I actually became pretty good friends. So when "Hot" dude friended, me, I didn't think too much of it. But its whatever right? I'm actually enjoying the single life right now.
Also, an update on the Summer Bucket List. I said in an earlier post, that I hooked up with someone and that I wasn't quite sure it counted, but a few days later,  I had a really, Really, REALLY unexpected occurrence with a friend of mine. We were hanging out in one of the piano practice rooms, playing some music, and talking like we usually do. We were sitting side by side on the piano bench, when all of a sudden he turned and put his arms around me. Up until this point, I wasn't even aware he was interested in me as more than a friend, so I was a little surprised, but I just went with it. Well we sat like that and talked for a while, then suddenly he stood up, and pulled me up against him and, well, one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, we were going at it on the piano bench. Anyway, later he came over and helped me clean out my dorm room and we hooked up again. He left after that, and that was that. But we did make out in a public venue, so I can now say I have successfully crossed that challenge off the list.
Now, I'm on the job hunt (again) and I just hope I end up doing something I actually know how to do. Last summer, I worked at an auto parts shop, and since I know nothing about cars, It was fairly miserable. Basically, my plan is to get a job, find a less boring place to crash, and find someone to have fun with on my days off. If I can achieve all that, I can honestly say, my summer was a success, whether or not I complete the List.
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the Sysyem.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Getting Things Done

I've been dreading the moment when I'll have to say goodbye to all the wonderful and amazing friends I have made this year. Every time I start to think about it, I get teary eyed, which is weird because I almost never cry. We've had some CRAZY experiences together, and to think that I'll have to say goodbye to them possibly forever is just painful. I think this is one of the most difficult, memorable, and crazy years I've ever had, and saying goodbye to it is tough. But on the other hand, I am looking forward to this summer, and the new opportunities I will be able to experience.
On a lighter note, I have completed a few more tasks on the Summer Bucket List.

  • Eat a lemon without sugar
  • Play a card game
  • Make something out of duct tape
  • Hook up with someone 
  • Make out with said hookup in a public venue
Basically, I'm just doing the really generic easy things first. I suppose it would have been more difficult if I had to complete the list in order, since the first item is Learn how to do a triple backflip.

Here's a really bad picture of me attempting to eat the lemon, taken by my friend Laurel in my dorm room. I'm just gonna say, that even though I am a hardcore lemonade addict, I do NOT like lemons plain. It's like eating pure acid. Ugggghhhh.
Some of my friends and I got together, and played Phase 10 on the beach yesterday, so that counts as a card game. Even though I lost pretty miserably, it was great getting to spend some time in the sun, and relax by the water. Unfortunately I don't have photo evidence, but it's just a card game, so I don't think it's that hard to believe
Also last night, I made a duct tape flower which I am pretty proud of. I used duct tape and a bobby pin, and besides the lemon, it was definitely the most difficult task I had to achieve so far on the list.
I am also happy, because even though the whole sleepover/hookup thing didn't work out, I did end up getting laid for the last time this semester, by one of my old hookups. Which totally counts as my hookup, and I made out with him on a college campus, which is a public venue. I do not have photo evidence of that either, because I think it would be highly inappropriate, but it was a pretty fun experience. So after I say my goodbyes, I can start my epic summer with no regrets. :)

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Achievements...? Probably Not

Well, this is going to be one hell of an interesting and challenging summer. So far, I have only completed two of the items on the list.

  • Make paper boats, and float them somewhere outside
  • Build a blanket fort
I did the paper boats thing last night in the lake off campus. It was raining, and it was kinda sketchy because this random guy was down there watching me do it, and I felt like a total wierdo. It was dark, so you'll have to take my word for it; I don't have photo proof of me floating the boats. But it's not like it's something really difficult to do, so it is pretty believable. 
I'm actually not quite sure if my blanket fort thing actually counted, because it was really just some sheets tacked over the entrance of my dorm room. Several people have told me that it does count, but I think I'll have to redo it. Basically, me and my friend Syd decided to have a sleepover/hookup with a couple of guys, so we redid my dorm common room to lok like we had been roommates, so we didn't appear desperate or something. But then one of the guys backed out so I was the third wheel, so because I was kinda bummed out about it, I went and drank like 8 shots of whiskey, which for me isn't that much, but I hadn't eaten anything but a handful of tortilla chips that day, I got totally wasted, and threw up everywhere. Definitely not my finest moment. Anyway I laid beside the toilet and listened to them get it on, and basically had a fairly miserable night. So, since the whole blanket fort was iffy, and I ended up smashed, I think I might have to repeat that one.
Hopefully my other attempts are a little more successful.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Mother's Day

I am a self proclaimed orphan, so I have no mother to celebrate, so here's to all the mothers who sacrifice so much for children, their own or otherwise. Here's to those mothers who starve so their children can eat. Those moms who work two jobs so their children can get an education. And even those stay at home moms, the ones who spend so much time with their kids, giving them love, and watching them grow.
To all of you amazing and selfless women, I just want to say thank you, because without motherly love, this world would be extreme chaos.  I hope you have an amazing mother's day, and that your children give you the love you deserve.
Happy Mother's Day!

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Diamonds Are Not My Best Friend

Everyone has heard the saying "Diamonds are a girls best friend".
Diamonds are great and all, but come on, there are so many things I can think of that I'd rather get from a man than some diamond earrings which might get lost or stolen or whatever. I mean yes, I love diamonds (Who doesn't?) and if a guy bought me a diamond necklace, then yes I would love it dearly. But honestly, if you show up at my door with a box of stuffed crust cheese pizza, I will seriously love you forever. I don't need to be bought; its actually a huge turnoff for me when a man tries to buy my affection with money or things. To be honest, I'm not really a materialistic girl. I don't want him to take me out to a fancy restaurant, nor do I want to have to order things I can barely pronounce, let alone swallow. I'd much rather we just cuddled together on the couch at his place or mine, eating pizza and watching a movie. That way I don't have to spend half my paycheck on a dress for the occasion, and it's much easier to hook up if we're already on a couch. I don't want to spend the weekend at a luxury hotel in a room that countless people have been in, doing who knows what. I don't want to have to worry if the people in the room next to us think we're too loud. Instead, I'd rather just crash at his place or mine, I'll serve him breakfast in bed (because seriously, even if the bacon is too crispy, it's way sweeter than paying for room service), and when we hook up, I can be as loud as I want to because I know his neighbors, and I know mine, and they don't give two tacos about what's going on in the house next to theirs.  I don't want him to buy me expensive orchids, or cali-lilies; if he simply must buy me flowers, it should be the three dollar bouquet of roses from the shelf at Walmart, and instead of a generic card, scribble a few heartfelt words on a sheet of notebook paper. The cut flowers are going to die anyway.
I like things that are heartfelt and sincere. I'd rather he spend an hour trying to figure out the instructions on a box Kraft macaroni and cheese, instead of paying big bucks for me to attempt to eat Rhône-Alpes and Escargots.  Sleeping in a hotel makes me feel like there's something at his place he's trying to hide, and I always get creeped out thinking about how many people have slept in that bed before me. I would much rather have a handful of daisies he secretly picked at the local park even though he knew he wasn't supposed to, than a generic flower bouquet that the woman working at the flower shop assured him I would love. I'd rather walk hand in hand at a local park eating ice cream cones that cost a dollar, than sit on the balcony of some prestigious venue being served creme brulé.  I don't want him to buy costly tickets for us to see an opera, sung in some language neither of us understands, during which we'll both sit bored out of our minds waiting until we can rip off our uncomfortable formal clothes and begin the actual date. I'd much rather cuddle in bed watching a movie we both love, with no clothes to worry about in the first place.
It's not that I don't appreciate the thought behind whatever ridiculously pricey thing he does. I mean if he takes me to a five star hotel for the weekend, maybe he thinks his place isn't good enough for me. Maybe he wants to pamper me in a way he thinks I would want to be. Maybe he thinks that I would rather eat some fancy french food than the slightly burnt spaghetti at his house. If a guy does do some horribly expensive generic gesture for me,  I do appreciate it. But I always let him know that it's not necessary.
I don't want diamonds. I just want him.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

My Summer Bucket List

I am determined to have the best summer ever, so with the help of some friends, and some ridiculous dares I have accepted, I have created a list of things I am going to (or attempt to) do before the summer ends. Some of them are crazy, and honestly I have no idea if I'll be able to achieve most of them.

  1. Learn how to do a triple back flip
  2. Blow smoke bubbles
  3. Go cliff diving
  4. Mix the perfect margarita
  5. Kiss a random stranger
  6. Go sand-boarding (Whatever that is)
  7. Go bungee jumping
  8. Give myself a permanent tattoo
  9. Glue money to the sidewalk and laugh
  10. Plant some flowers
  11. Go to a drive in theater
  12. Dance wildly in front of screen at drive in theater
  13. Make paper boats and float them somewhere outside
  14. Use a horrible fake accent all week
  15. Go paint balling
  16. Make s'mores
  17. Cook something on a solar panel
  18. Wash the car in the driveway and writhe sexily on top of it.
  19. Chase an ice cream truck
  20. Shoot off fireworks
  21. Go to a farmers market
  22. Make a food basket and give it to a homeless person
  23. Wear a coconut bra all day
  24. Run a six minute mile (easy)
  25. Go to an amusement park
  26. Kiss a carnival worker
  27. Make a mud pie
  28. Learn how to make sushi
  29. Solve a Rubik's cube
  30. Break dance in the middle of the mall (easy)
  31. Hook up with someone in the middle of the night
  32. Make out with said hook-up in a public venue
  33. Read 5 books (Easy)
  34. Deep fry a Twinkie
  35. Try to break a world record
  36. Sing some horrible karaoke on purpose
  37. Fry an egg on the sidewalk
  38. Write a fake love letter
  39. Sneak into an amusement park
  40. Pose with mannequins in a store window (easy)
  41. Throw bouncy balls off a skyscraper roof (no idea how I'm gonna get on the roof of a sky scraper)
  42. Pretend to sleep in a bed store
  43. Learn to say "hello" in 50 languages
  44. Ding dong ditch someone
  45. Milk a cow (Where am I gonna find a cow?)
  46. Play strip poker
  47. Collect 100 business cards
  48. Send off a message in a bottle
  49. Sleep under the stars
  50. Go skinny dipping
  51. Put on all the sample makeup at Macy
  52. Shower in the rain- nudity not required 
  53. Untie someones bathing suit
  54. Play the pianos at the Steinway piano gallery (I actually play the piano, that's an easy one)
  55. Cartwheel across a street at an intersection
  56. Buy something and return it 5 minutes later
  57. Give a random person my number
  58. Crash a party
  59. Wear lingerie to a bed store
  60. Make a music video
  61. Take selfies underwater
  62. Dance in the rain
  63. Write random notes and spread them all over the city
  64. Splatter paint something
  65. Do something for charity
  66. Build a blanket fort
  67. Pretend I'm a greeter at Walmart
  68. Make homemade ice cream
  69. Pull an all nighter
  70. Choreograph an epic hip hop routine with five people and perform it in a public venue
  71. Sleep on a roof
  72. Play turkey basketball
  73. Learn to ride a unicycle
  74. Go on a blind date
  75. Ditch blind date, no matter if he's cute or not
  76. Have an enormous pillow fight with feather pillows
  77. Learn  how to juggle
  78. Make someones day
  79. Find the perfect glass of lemonade
  80. Get five new piercing's three of which must be somewhere besides ears
  81. Wear a bikini and assless chaps to the mall
  82. Plant a tree
  83. Bury a time capsule
  84. Carve name in a tree
  85. Have an all day movie marathon
  86. Jump fully clothed into a public pool
  87. Suck the helium out of a balloon, and talk to random people
  88. Buy bleach, rope, trash bags, and a shovel at home depot
  89. Eat an entire tub of ice cream
  90. Sleep on a park bench
  91. Pose with a statue in front of a museum
  92. Lick candy in a candy store and put it back on the shelves
  93. Have an epic water balloon fight in public
  94. Drive backwards through a drive through
  95. Have sex on an airplane
  96. Moon someone
  97. Create the perfect ice cream sundae
  98. Buy $50.00 worth of clothes from Goodwill
  99. Make an epic sand castle
  100. Have the most epic summer ever!!
This is going to be one hell of a crazy summer, but I am determined to at least attempt every item on the list.
I'll keep y'all posted. Wish me luck!!
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

My Strange Addiction

Many people have addictions, whether they know it or not. Very common ones are their cell phones, coffee, or their job. I, however, have an incurable addiction to lemonade. Yes, lemonade. Something about the sweet, tangy, sour flavor of lemonade is completely irresistible to me. It's like it speaks to me. If I see a pitcher of lemonade anywhere in the near vicinity, there is almost nothing that can stop me from running over snatching up the nearest empty glass, and filling it to the brim. My addiction goes even further than that. I love things that taste like lemonade, no matter how remotely. For instance lemon drops, lemon meringue pie, even lemon Jello. If it has any sort of lemon flavoring in it, I'm your girl. My addiction is so intense that I even love lemon scented cleaner. I mean I don't know anyone who doesn't enjoy a crisp, cool, glass of lemonade on a hot summers day, but I'm so far gone that I'll choose frozen lemonade over hot chocolate in the dead of winter. Now every time I mention this, I get very strange looks, but you have not lived until you have had a steaming mug of hot lemonade. It's the perfect thing to satisfy you on a cold winter day, or the to sip as you sit and watch the rain on a chilly spring evening.
I don't simply limit myself to frozen lemonade concentrate, or bottles of Simply Lemonade in the store aisles. I consider myself a connoisseur of lemonade. Every summer when I have the time, I spend hours juicing lemons, and slicing up different fruits to create the perfect flavor of lemonade. I've spent so much time making lemonade that my family once attempted an intervention to weaken my infatuation with it. They removed all of my lemons from the refrigerator, and all of the frozen concentrate from the freezer. They hid my favorite lemonade glass, and filled the fridge with soda and fruit juice. I was Horrified! All of my sweet, lemony beverages were gone! They even went so far as to hide my stash of lemon flavored sweets from me! All my lemon drops, all my lemon chiffon cupcakes, all my raspberry lemonade Jolly Ranchers! Oh the Monstrosity! I hardly knew what to do with myself. Waking up in the morning, instead of a rich slice of lemon pound cake, I had to settle with boring coffee cake. Instead of that ice cold glass of lemonade after my morning jog, I had to settle for apple juice. Even my lemon flavored toothpaste was replaced with generic Aquafresh. No more lemon meringue pie. No more lemon sorbet. I was forced to eat regular boring food, and use Orange scented cleaners (Awful stuff). The lemon pepper disappeared from the spice cabinet so I was unable to make my favorite, lemon cashew chicken. Now I know all this sounds ridiculous, but something about lemons is just awesome to me. Eventually, due to my midnight shopping trips to buy more lemonade when everyone was asleep, my family realized that they would never truly be able to cure me of my obsession with lemons. Things slowly returned to normal. Fresh lemons reappeared in the fruit drawer of the refrigerator. Lemon extract returned to the spice cabinet. Lemon sweets once again inhabited my desk drawer, and I resumed my search for the perfect flavor of lemonade.
Through the years, My infatuation with lemons has diminished some, but my quest for the perfect cup of lemonade continues. Since I have been at college, my lemonade antics have been limited to consuming bottles of Calypso, and Simply Lemonade. My friends think I'm crazy; they can't comprehend how someone when offered a sweet minty mojito, would turn it down for a can of  Minute Maid. Even I don't fully understand my obsession with the beverage or when it started. I remember when I was little, and someone would pour me a cup of lemonade telling me to hold it carefully with both hands. After taking a sip, I would shudder and hand it back, saying it was "too sour" and could I "please have some juice instead?" I don't know at which point in my life, the smell of lemons became so intoxicting. It makes no sense to me how one little fruit can be so wonderfully addictive; I guess I'll never know. My love for lemonade goes deeper thatn just the occaisonal glassful by the poolside; quite frankly I'm glad my addiction is lemonade, not meth.
Because I love you all so much, I am going to share with you one of my top secret recipies; the Strawberry Lemonita.

You'll need:
3 cups sugar
5 cups water, divided
6 to 8 lemons (about one cup of lemon juice)
1 cup of fresh strawberries
1 cup tequila (optional)

  1. Combine sugar and 3 cups of the water in a small saucepan and bring to a gentle simmer over low heat. Once sugar is completely dissolved, remove from heat to cool.
  2. Juice the lemmons in to the sugar water syrup once it is cool.
  3. Puree the strawberries in a blender, or chop very finely and crush with a fork.
  4. Combine all ingredients in a pitcher. Chill and serve over ice.
  5. Enjoy
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫