Yeah hi. This entry is full of me babbling about random bullshit. The pictures are what matter, unless you like, love me or something.

In January, I went to Phoenix. I usually go to Phoenix in January, it's without a doubt the best time to go there as far as weather is concerned. This year, however, I really wanted to get the fuck out of NYC for as long as I possibly could. I don't deal well with the holiday season ever, but the past one was the absolute worst. I was going through a lot of personal shit and then all of a sudden all my friends went out of town. I spent my mom's woulda-been-birthday and xmas alone, I was all emo... I had fun on New Years, but it still wasn't enough. I needed to go to the left side of America. I needed to steal Mathieson's covers and take his truck when he was sleeping and get drunk with his mom. I needed to drink some iced coffee from the Willow House and listen to all my old friends bitch about the same shit they have been bitching about since 1999. I needed to walk around downtown Phoenix on a Friday night for Art Detour. I needed to go to Thought Crime and play with fire and get drunk on top of the scaffolding at the Firehouse. I needed Chez Nous, I needed the Bikini Lounge, I needed to fucking smoke inside. I needed to remember how it felt to run into someone who has known me for 5 years or more and I needed to hear stuff like: "I haven't seen you in forever! New York, huh? Damn, your hair has gotten long! Whoa, I didn't even recognize you, New York looks good on you!" I needed a chimichanga from Poncho's in south Phoenix and I needed to talk to my favorite ex-boyfriend who I always call when I go there so he can join me and we can have really long conversations (he is so the over-analyze guy) about random shit. I needed several enchiladas from that one spot on 7th Ave and Roosevelt and several horchatas to wash those tasty motherfuckers down. I needed to do all of that stuff until I got sick of it so I could come back home to New York. I got sick of most of it in 2 weeks, although I stayed in Phoenix for 3.

Now, allow me to ramble on a thought. There is a point, I swear. I live in New York City. Ok, New York City is known for art, fashion, and crazy shit, right? I can walk from my house to the fucking L train and see several examples of art, fashion, and crazy shit. They are kinda just there.

Phoenix, on the other hand, is known for Bank One Ball Park. Everybody loves it. Woo Hoo! We are goin' to watch the Diamondbacks! YEEEE HAW! Naturally, I hear shit like this a lot: "Hey, you're from Phoenix, right? You guys are the ones with that ballpark that is air-conditioned with the retractable roof, right? I bet it's awesome, do you like it?" Honestly? I have never been there and I am pretty fucking sure I never will. Why? Well, because (a) I don't give a fuck about sports (b)I am boycotting it for political reasons (c) I am boycotting it for emotional reasons (d) I don't like the Diamondbacks because they play at Bank One Ball Park and because I decided in 2002 that I was a Yankees fan so I have to hate them. Period.

:INSERT THE THE INCONGRUITY BETWEEN WHAT IS EXPECTED AND WHAT ACTUALLY IS A.K.A. IRONY HERE:

Since I have lived in New York, I have been to two baseball games at Yankee Stadium and one at Camden Gardens in Baltimore. Did you know that Bank One Ball Park was modeled after Camden Gardens? Well, now ya do.

Since I have left Phoenix, I have never been to a single museum. I have never been to a single art gallery. I do not know any artists (visual or performance). I have yet to meet people who I can do poi with. I have not done any or even seen a ready to wear show. I have not participated in an artsy rtw photo shoot in a small dingy apartment downtown. I have not been to any chill art exhibits. Nobody I know makes their own clothes, nobody I know spray paints "war monger" on clear channel advertisements, and nobody I know has been to a Cop Watch Rally.

See these crazy ass art fag geisha-style pictures?? They're really weird and creative, right? I had flowers glued to my eyes and pancake white makeup on. It took the kid 5 hours to get it all right. He did pretty well I think. It doesn't even look like me, does it?





Thank you, Phoenix, for the lovely pictures and the - dare I say it - art, fashion, and crazy shit. And thank you, New York, for the hot dogs, Yankee beers, Mat-fuckin-sui, and the inestimable drawing power of Yankee Stadium.

And life, I want to specially thank you for the dear, sweet irony. Ever since I accepted the fact that God didn't exist, I wasn't sure how I should verbalize my gratitude for certain aspects of my personality (being that I can't thank my parent either). Now I know. Thank you life for the awesome sense of humor. All this irony keeps making it better and better.