Thursday, January 29, 2009

How does a junky fall in love?

Opiates...the best fuck you'll ever have. Junkies fall in love at first sight, usually with a pill. The first time you take a Percocet, its like your first kiss. You know you want more, and you try to find that kiss again and again. Of course you never marry your first kiss. A few months later your ready to move on. You go out and find yourself a bad boy, a boy you want to fuck, but you can't lose your virginity right now. Fuck your too young to break that Hymen. Your gonna save that for your true love. So you find some Oxycontin, you crush it up and snort it. You've almost made a home run. It felt good. Too good. Fuck, fuck, fuck me...harder, harder, harder. Then you meet him, he's the baddest of all bad boys. He's highly illegal, he got big brown eyes, and he wants you as much as you want him. You know he's the one. Your gonna let him take your sweet Innocent pussy. Your gonna find Heroin...oh what a beautiful name. No that you've been around the block a time or two, you people. People like you, people who are high, as high as you want to be. You watch as everyone around is cooking their Heroin, and sucking that Heroin up into a syringe, and then...then.....he offer to put that needle in your arm. You figure why take the bus when you can fly. I'm ready, I know I love him, he slides that needle ever so gently into your ripe vein, so eager, so full, and he pulls the plunger back, and you watch as your blood blossoms into the syringe, and as soon as that blood is in the syringe he pushes the plunger in...Oh God, Oh God, fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum. That's it, your in love. No one can take the way you feel for you lover will never die. The love will burn as an eternal flame inside you until the day you die.

Suddenly your three months in, and every time you cook up your shot, its just like foreplay. You can't wait for him to enter you. Become apart of you again. One morning you wake up, and your lover isn't in the bed with you. You have to go out and find him. Without him, you feel like your going to die. Every part of your body is screaming out to have him again, and again, and again. You can't find him, he's fucking around on you. He's breaking your heart. Your out there and your here sick, and he's out fooling around. Your pissed, but then he comes home. He's ready to fuck you, and your so eager you don't care where he was, who he was with, your just glad he's here with you now. This cycle repeats itself. Love, hate, love, hate, and you'll do anything for him. Anything!

A year later, those veins aren't so fresh, and your shaking while cooking up your shot. Your eyes are watering, your nose runs, you hair hurts...until, until, you find a vein, not as fresh as before, but its a way into your blood stream.
Fuck men, fuck women, you know the only one you can love is Heroin, such a beautiful name.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Made up facts

Yeah, I just made up those facts. 10 percent....1percent...whats the diffrence? I'm sure somewhere on this internet thing I could look up the statsics but I'm much too lazy to do so. I'm sure its more than 1 percent of people in America addicted to drugs.

I lied and was caught. Ahhhh fuck it.


let me move in with you if you live in Washington St. and no men sorry.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Fail, fail, fail again, but keep on trying until your last breath has been taken, or you will never be herd

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, my worst nightmare has come true. My mom lost her fucking job in Hawaii. We have until Feb. 28th to be out of our apartment. My parents want to go back to Wisconsin. Where they can get an apartment, and wait for the house my dad is building on Triple C in Oconto Fall to be finished. From there, we have a “home base” so when my mom get a traveling job, they can pick up and leave, and not have to worry about something like this happening.
My parents lucked out, due to it's Tax season, because since my dad is 100% disabled vet, and my mom is a nurse, and I’m still a dependent child they get around 7 grand back every year. Plus, I believe my parents have saved up some money while living hear, so getting plane tickets, and an apartment in Wisconsin will be fairly easy. My dad will go first, and then my mom.
I am not going back to Wisconsin. I would like to go to New York City, but unfourtanlly NYC is a bit too expensive for my budget. I will have to move to the West Coast instead. I want to move to Olympia Washington, or Seattle. I’d rather Olympia, because it’s a smaller city, and rent would be cheaper. I’d even be willing to get a job.
I know, I know, I said I would never work at a job I hate, just to buy things I don’t need. Well, I won’t be buying things I don’t need, I’ll be paying for roof over my head, until I can save up enough money to move to New York.
My parents pretty much told me they don’t believe my book will ever be published, and that even if it were, I would not make a living as a writer. They want me to stay with them. Live with them until they die.
I got to give them credit, its not their fault that my mom’s contract was not extended. They have been willing to move to NYC, because I said I wanted to live their since I was a little kid. I didn’t want to go their and become a movie star, or a dancer, I just wanted to live in New York, the city that never sleeps. When I was in High school I made a promise to myself that I would live in NYC by the time I was 25. I’m 26 in two weeks, and not even close to NYC. We were suppose to go in Sept. My dad would move back to Wisco in April, and get the house built, and me and mom would live here in Hawaii, until Sept, and then we would move to NYC. Our new house in Wisco would be our home base. So if something like this ever happened again, they would have a place to go.
I don’t want to go with them. I lived in Wisconsin for most of my life, and I’ve done all I can there. Its time for me to move on. The point of having children is raise them so they can make a life for themselves when they become adults. All you can do is hope and pray that their lives are good lives.
How many millions of people go New York on a daily basis to “make their dreams come true.” Probably thousands, and that’s on a daily basis. Yearly, OMG that’s millions. Probably only 5 out of those thousands will make their dreams come true. My dream of course is to become a published writer. Far Fetched as it is, its still my dream. This is still America the land where dreams come true. Right? As long as you have the will, and the fight in you to make it thru all the rejections, and all the kicks you’ll get then you have a chance. If I write, and write, and read and read, then why oh why can’t I at least have my chance.
Because my parents don’t want to lose me like they lost Angie. So now they hang on so tight, they suffocate me. I have to ask to leave the house.
I moved out of my parents house and in with a boyfriend when I was 17. Of course I didn’t work, well except at a bar, and I did that because I was underage to drink at the bar, but I could still work their and have fun. I’ve been on my own before, I was on my own until Angie died. Then suddenly Pete and I couldn’t make ends meet, and my parents where always bailing us out, and letting us move in with them until we found a place of our own. Which we always did.
Then I got into legal trouble, and of course became an Opiate addict. My life fell apart. Pete left, and I was homeless, in and out of rehab, and all over. Fuck I didn’t mind homelessness, as long as I was high. Coming across money was hard because I wasn’t working. So family started to help me out with bills. This is after I finally did get an apartment in this building that rented out to recovering addicts, but most of us were not recovering we were still using, just keeping it under wraps.
Whatever, I’m just ranting now.
The book I wrote was not only about my addiction and how I got thru it, but it is about how dysfunctional our family was/is, and how much worse it became after my little sister died.
It is estimated that there are 3 million addiction is the USA alone. There are 300 million people in America. Which means ten percent of our population has an addiction of some sort. Which means Million upon millions of families are going thru exactly what I went thru, what my family went thru when I was an active user. Right now I’m not an active user. I’m not going and buying Heroin off the streets and injecting it into my veins. I’m in a recovery program that uses Methadone to stop me from being an active addict.
All this means, if I can get my book perfect, the story or theme or whatever, the book will relate to million upon million if not billions of people world wide.
I know I’m a junky, and I read every single junky book I can find in book stores, or libraries. I read every blog a junky writes, because its all I think about. I want that high forever. Now that I’m on methadone and cannot achieve that high, I need to read or watch…be entertained by someone else’s addiction.
Car buffs like to read car shit, clothes buffs like to read clothes shit, and heroin buffs like read heroin shit.
Its how the world works. We all want the story to relate to us in some way. Just like I want Kurt Cobain’s life to parallel my life in almost every way, but that is impossible, we grew up at totally different times, and he was a musician, who could get his message out easier to the masses, because everyone likes good music, and Nirvana made good music, that spoke to a lot of people.
I hope someday, when I become a much better write, my words will speak to the masses, and change the way people write books, and how a generation feels about themselves.
So what the fuck I may as well try. I’m not going back to Wisconsin. NO matter what. No one can force me. I’m almost 30 years old. Well 4 more years and I’ll be 30, and I want to be published before I am 30 years old.
May the universes will be done unto me. May God’s will be done onto me.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Seven Eleven, and medication.

I've been prescribed Bi Polar medication by a doctor. It is called Lamotrigine. It was originally made to use as an anti seizure medication for epileptics. By accident they found that is a mood stabilizer for Bi Polar, suicidal, nihilistic, unworthy, people like myself.

Its late, well not really late, its midnight, and I'm watching the "The Lost Boys 2". Cheesy. I took 3mg of Xanax, and my medication which causes drowsiness. Still I'm wide awake, with a head ache on one side of my head.

Light a man a fire and he is warm for the day, light a man on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life. Stupid, where that came from was this damn movie. Corey Feldman just said it.

Really I don't have much else to keep anybody up on. I have been impersonating my mom on myspace. Writing blogs as her. You can tell what a narcissist I am by reading those blogs. They are pretty much about me, her view of me, as I see it. Strange. Well I guess that's three blogs I'm writing.
My own myspace blog has no readers anymore. Its like they all just disappeared. I'm sure there are a few loyal readers. I still get a few views per day, but nothing I used to get. I wonder what I'm doing different. I tried to go back and read all of my old posts, and well I just couldn't do it. I hate everything I ever written. It could all be so much better. Even with the book I'm reading, I can't go over and read it again, at least not the first 4 chapter, which I read, and read, and re read about 100 times. I have to have someone else read it to me, so I can hear it read aloud, and then I can tell where I need to fix it. My mom is good for that. She works alot now tho, and its rare that she will read it aloud for me. So reworking is taking along time. I called Kathy, the women who will be editing the book, and she has offered to read the book allowed to me, so I can make noted on what needs to be added, or deleted, etc...
Writing a book is really alot of work. I'm a lazy person by nature. Seriously this book is by far the most constructive thing I have done with my life. After I'm totally finished with this book, I had planned on writing another memoir about middle school right away, but now, I thinking of taking a break. I'm thinking of just taking time to read all day everyday. Read every author I can think of.
I must admit I've never read any Ernest Hemingway. I rented one of his books from the Library, and a few days later I was put in jail. So now I feel that Hemingway is bad luck for me.
I have read Catcher in the Rye, and really enjoyed it. I thought I would hate it, but it was the book that inspired me to write the book I'm writing now. I think its the title that kept me from reading it for so long. Finally one day I was at the library and had a list of classics I wanted to check out and read. Catcher was on that list. Along with a shit load of autobiographies, and memoirs. One Flew over the cuckoo's nest was another book on that list, and now that is probably on my top 10 favorite books list.
Catcher in the Rye made me realize how important a name of a book is. I could have been inspired by that book when I was 15 if the book had a better title. After reading the book, I understand why the book was named what it was. Still, what to name my book. I had a few working titles, but now I've decided against them all. I really want to title it I hate myself and want to die, but that was Kurt Cobain's mantra. I can't steal that from him. Can I? He has been one of the biggest influences of my life. I'm sure he's hate the fact that he influenced me. Kurt said in many interviews that he does not want people to follow in his foot steps as far as using heroin, and being a total black star part. He did want people to stop being such animals, and stop hate crimes, rapes, and he thought women should rule the world. I totally agree. Although I am a women, and that makes me biased.
I Hate Myself and Want to Die is probably been used before, and its probably been copyrighted by now. So I'll have dive into the depths of my shallow mind and pull out another plagiarized Title.
Oh yes, I saw dog the bounty hunter in the Seven Eleven I go to at least 5 time a day. He was showing a photo around of some black guy. I had never seen him, since I'm pretty much a recluse, and sit in my house or the park. I see people, but I don't look at their faces, because they disgust me. Sorry people, but you make me sick. Probably because I make myself sick.
As you can tell my obsession with the dead rock star is still running rampant. I sure would like a lobotomy. One flew over the cuckoo's nest. LOL. That was sad at the end when they gave him a lobotomy.

Oh well, I'm done wasting your time for now. Thanks for following my blog to all the new followers. When people follow my blog is one of the few things that make me feel good about myself. I have to go. Bye.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I hate Lithum

Right now I'm sitting in my living room, writing this blog while watching Unsolved Mystries. I just got out of the clothes I slept in, and changed into a green shirt, black pants, and a blue scarf. I also put on eyeliner. I have to wear eye liner before I leave the apartment other wise I feel extrodinarly ugly.

The reason I put make up on and changed out of my PJ's is because I have an appointment to make at 1:45pm with Dr. Barrickman. Its for my welfare. I will be getting re-evaulated. As most of you already know my welfare was cut off for the month of January because I did not have all the correct paper work I needed to have. I also didn't have enough meetings with my drug councler at the Methadone clinic. So my first penalty is one month of no welfare. I still am getting my food stamps, and have my health insurance. Which I am very thankful for.

My case worker at the Department of Human Services, is trying very hard to get the powers that be re consider my punishment because after I was showed exactly what I was suppose to get to him, I went to my counsler at the clinic, and got all the paper work filled out, and started making appointment with my drug councler once a week. So next time, when I go in for my re eval, I will have all the proper paperwork, and have all appointment critera met.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with a diffrent shrink, he is going to be perscribing me meds for my mental illness.

I have a hard time taking thos meds as perscribes, but this time I plan on doing as the doctor tells me. As long as he doesn't perscribe me Lithium. I fucking Hate Lithum.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

I just don't know!!!

What to write about. Hmmm……… I guess I could detail my day to day life, but no I don’t really feel like doing that. I could tell a story about one of my wild and crazy nights. Fuck that. I could rant and rave about some bullshit, but still that would not full fill me.
Then I thought about this doozy. I am a female. I have estrogen being secreted from my sexual organs. I am sexually attracted to both men and women. I find something completely irristiable about a man who is way too skinny, with a sharp defined jaw line. Eyes that pierce your soul when they lay their gaze upon you. Quiet, shy, smart, self hating, heroin using, men. there is this one man who is no longer alive, that I think was the only man that will ever touch me the way he did. I don’t mean physically touch, I mean mentally, and spiritually. I’m really not a spiritual person, but at times I ask myself the big question. You know the one, we all ask it at some point in our lives. “The why are we here” question. What the fuck is the point? Why is our brain wired to ask this fucking question? Okay now I’m moving in a totally different direction than the whole female thing I started on, but follow along.
Have we gotten too advanced for our own good. We no longer have to struggle to survive. We have our food just handed to us. We have our homes built for us, and our fires lite for us. Most of our lives are spent making “things” or “products” that make our lives easier. Example, millions of people working at factory jobs they hate, just to buy their family the newest product to make their lives easier. How fucking easy are we suppose to have it? Is the reason we are all so fucking depressed because our lives are being made so easy? Then there are the rich folks who work their way to top making money, by either entertaining our bored society, or making our society’s life simpler, easier. When people who are poor get rich, they believe that they will be happy and satisfied for the rest of their long lives, only to find out that money doesn’t buy happiness.
The best things in life are free. We’ve herd it before, and some people actually get it. The best things in life are free. Falling in love…free. Spending time with a funny friend…free. Watching your offspring grow…free. Still it is so ingrained in us that money and things will make us happy, that we take all those little things so for granted, and work our asses off for the almighty dollar that we waste our lives getting rich people richer, and making poor people poorer.
There is no cure for this. Ever since the industrial revolution, we have become an entire different creature. We have become like ants. We work to make the powerful more powerful, only so the powerful can give us just enough to survive on, and give us just enough hope that maybe someday we will be one of the powerful ones. I can’t deny it, I have it in me too. If I had enough money to just be on my own, and travel around writing, loving, using drugs…then I’d be happy. Right? WRONG!
Our minds are at a point where we can either destroy ourselves or we can regain what it was we had at the beginning. When we had to literally kill and grow our own food to survive. Were we work for ourselves. Making our families, and communities strong. By not denying ourselves our most basic instincts. Sex… another long suppressed instinct that is causing more harm than good. Religion causing more harm than good.
I have no answers, I have no ideas how to fix these things. My IQ is 110. All I can do is point out the problem. I can see the problem. I can see my problem. My life is way to simple. I make it more complicated by acting out, using drugs, being depressed….I could go on and on. What I need to do is make my life harder. I need to go out into the wilderness without creature comforts, and live as humans did for thousands of years. Perhaps I should join a commune, and live in the community, do the work for myself. Still someone is going to be the leader and everyone else is going to follow.
I can’t stand this. Seeing the problem and not knowing how to fix it. Its like a rubix cube for me. I just can’t solve it. No matter what angle I look at it, it seems impossible for me to solve. I get so frustrated that I just want to end my life. Nothingness would be better than this constant struggle within. Should I cave in and get a job to make the rich, richer, and poor, poorer. Should I just drop out of society, and live life as a recluse in the woods, living off the land? Should I join a commune and become a leader, and have others follow me.
Obviously there is something about power that gives human’s the illusion of fulfillment. Power… I can’t lead people. I can’t even lead myself. I have no idea where I’m going, and really I don’t want to. I have no idea what I’m doing, and really I don’t want to. I have no idea what I’m trying to say, and I don’t want to.
Wait… on second thought yes I do want to know. I want to know everything. Someone teach me. Show me how to understand. Give me the knowledge, give me the key. I was conceived, I was born, I was raised, I am here, and I have life. Now tell me what I should do with it. Am I doing what I’m suppose to? Is this what the universe wants me to be…to do? Sitting here in a tropical paradise, writing words asking a bunch of people who I don’t know what the meaning of life is. When I started this blog I wanted to write about women wanting to be saved. Is that the purpose, are we all looking for someone to save us? Is this why Jesus appeals to so many? Is this why all religions appeal to so many. Is their life after death? Is their soul mates? If our consciousness is made up of energy, then what happens to our consciousness after we die? Does it die with us? If energy is neither created nor destroyed, then physically we never die. Right? I don’t shit about Physics, or quantum physics, or string theory, or anything. I know that my brain is firing electrical impulses and those impulses are causing me to ask these questions, and type these words, and love these people, and want these things.
Maybe a lobotomy is the answer. What is life, you can’t ask these questions because your frontal lobes don’t work right? Then are we like a tree. Just life without animation. I’m so fucking lost, an so fucking dumb.
I feel like a 5th grader. Just coming into my own, and wondering what its all about. Why can’t we just all be children? I just want my mommy’s tit, and my warm crib, and no questions in my mind about why on Earth am I on Earth. Thank you Heroin for doing this for me. If only for a few hours, you relieve me of the questions that haunt me, and my consciousness.
I’ve said enough, but really its never enough. I have so much to say, yet so little. Its all been said before. I am nothing new, or interesting. I am me, and that is all. I will keep on writing, and I will keep on reading. I will keep on learning, and when someone can explain to me in lamence terms why I’m here then I will be satisfied…I think. I think, therefore I am. Right?

Sunday, January 4, 2009

One eyed cats.

Good day to all. Today I went to the Human Society, and cleaned up the dog shit. I guess that's what were you start out, the bottom of the food chain. Me! Cleaning up dog shit. I get to feed the dogs too, and pet them. I clean out Litter boxes, and put new litter in them. I'm not really a cat person, but there is this one cat there, and he is like 16lbs. My dog Eleanor is 4lbs, so to me this cat is huge. He only has one eye, and was taken away from its owner because their son was torturing the cat. Serial Killer in the making. The neighbors called the police when they seen the kid tie the cat up by the tail and hang him from a tree. That kid really needs some hardcore therapy, or he needs to be put down. The kid was 14 years old. I understand that teenage boys have Testosterone running thru their veins and it makes them crazy little fuckers. Still to inflict pain on another living animal is just not right. Their is something going on in that family that needs to be looked at. Torturing animals is not normal. Jeffery Dhamar used to kill cats, and open them up, and feel the cats rib cage with his tongue, and noticed that it felt alot like the roof of his mouth. We all know what happen to Jeffrey.

One would think this cat would be meaner than hell, but nope he's just sweet as can be. He wants affection so badly, its sad. I just wanted to take him home and show him that there is love to be given. That I can love him. I can cuddle him, and protect him, and feed him. Then I was talking to another girl who volunteers, her name is Jenny she is 21. She told me that fat cat, (the name of the fat one eyed cat) is like the mascot for that particular Human Society. He gets free roam of the office during operating hours, and he gets a bigger cage than the rest of the cats because he is so fat. The cat room is huge at the Leeward Human Society. The cats have all these carpeted play houses, that are 4 and 5 levels high, and they have these shelves along the walls, where the cats can walk along. The cats are not in the cages most of the day. Unlike the dogs.

I offered to walk the dogs as much as possible, but they have set limits. I can only take a dog out for a half hour. It breaks my heart. I want to take all of them home with me. Right now there is 80 dogs there, and it just breaks me down. Today was my first time actually volunteering, so I don't know how often they get adopted. I didn't ask how long they have before they are "put down", because I couldn't take it.

So everyone who loves animals should donate any extra money they might have to the ASPCA. I make my parents donate 25 a month, and when I had a job I used to donate 5 dollars a month. When and if I get my welfare back, I plan on donating 50 bucks a month. Next Sunday I go back and clean up dog and cat poop. I can't wait. I feel like I did something good for once.

Friday, January 2, 2009

My favoirte unkowen blogger of 2008

Okay so this blogger I went to highschool with. We both come from a very small town in Wisconsin. Unfourtantly I never got to know Marty 144 at all during Highschool. We may have been at the same parties, once or twice, but we never spoke. Boy do I regret that now. On Myspace we found eachother's blogs, and have a mutral appreciation for writing. Marty 144 is by far a better writer than I. His grammer is perfect, and his vocabulary is limtless. The content of his blog is worth the click you will make to read it.

I've been reading his blog for three months now, and just yesterday I finally became his first follower. He didn't have Follow this blog link, until yesterday. Now that he does, I'm hoping that anyone who reads my blog will go check his out, and if you like it follow it. Most of you know how to find the blogs I follow, for those who don't go to my profile, and it will list all the blogs I follow. Marty 144's blog is the one I'm asking you check out. His words deserve to be read by more than just the handfull that come across it and then can't find it again. Now that he has the link so people can follow his blog, I'm sure he will become a popular blogger her on blogger.

All the other blogs I follow, are great. If it weren't for Dollhouse, I would probably only have three followers. I usually read blogs about addicts. That's because opiates is what I think about all day, and I like to read about other people's addictions, and how they deal with life day to day. I also like to read people who blog about wanting to become a published writer someday, because I too dream of becoming a published writer. I need to go back to school and learn alot more about compositon before I will ever get a publisher to take me seriously. Most people don't get published until they are in their late 30's or 40's. At least that's what I think, by reading the Jakets of the memoirs and novels I read.

Anyway, now that I'm working on going back to school, and getting on the right meds to control my bi polar disorder, life seems as tho it might start getting better. Now that I realize I have to work hard to get what I want, and I can't give up, and I can't let others keep me down.Success isn't just handed to you, you have to work your ass off to succed.
Soon its off Methadone. I can't wait to get off the methadone. I'm afraid of getting off it tho, because methadone is my cacoon, its what I take everyday to keep myself from hating people so much. It keeps me from hating myself so much. It is something that I rely on heavly. Without I'm hoping my writing gets better.

I have to go now, its time to workout, and then get some sun. I need to get out of this depression. Even tho it dosen't seem like I'm depressed right now, I am. Its just the methadone I just took, that is keeping my spirits up, but sooner rather than later that will wea3r off, and I will need exersize and Vitamin D produced by the sun to keep me out of the dumps. I hate taking Anti depressants, and I'm willing to try alternitive solutions. I live in Hawaii, I may as well take advange of the warm weather, and hang out on the beach, ride my bike around for a while, and just have fucking fun.

Thanks to those of you who read my last blog, and clicked on follow this blog. It means a lot to me. Anyone one else who happens by this blog I hope you will first check out Mary 144, and then click on follow this blog, my blog. If you like Marty's blog click follow that blog too. Hey I love reading blogs, the more the better I say. You never know what kind of blog you'll be in mood for, so follow mine, and maybe you'll get hooked. LOL!

I got to go. Thank you again. I love you all. I'm gonna go find some blogs I like and follow them.

I have it all right here in my head

It's true, everything is right here in my head. Last Night, while most everyone was out celebrating the New Year, I was up here in my own little hell, reading my book. The book I wrote. I'm almost finished with the first draft. I just have to add the last chapter. I have three different versions, and I still am not sure which I want to end the book with.

Anyway, while reading my book, I thought it was elementary. A fourth grader could have written this book. GOD FUCKING DAMN IT, I WANT TO GO TO COLLEGE AND LEARN HOW TO WRITE LIKE A REAL WRITER.

Anyway, on my real blog at www.myspace.com/ppfaceannagrace I have given full details about how I spent my New Year's Eve. So I don't much feel like going into it right now.

I do know that I want a friend. I want a human friend, that is not related to me. I want to hang out with someone, and do things. I sick of hanging out by myself. The only time I don't hang out by myself I'm downtown Honolulu...China Town. So I have two New Years revolution, no more candy, and get a real live friend that I can hang out with every day. Sound like fun to you?

Oh yes, and for a belated Xmas gift, I'd like everyone who reads this blog post, to follow my blog. I want more followers. I swear I'll lead you in the right direction. Cross my heart and hope to die.

I hope this is the year there is Peace on Earth!!!