282.

my HERRrrrs
saTURDay, i was at my ma's. with ern. we went to a vintage clothing garage sale. and it fucking ROCKED. loved it, bought shit. yum yum. then ern went home to see her ma. and me and my ma farted around.. ate, got manicures and shit. then went back to her house. i went a searchin' thru her shit to find my dad's ashes. i want to put them in something and wear them. i love my pops. and on a serious note, i haven't at all dealt with losing him. nope. not even a speck. so i think im going to start doing that now. how do people do that? i have no idea.. but i know that not having him in my life kills me.. and as im typing this.. i want to scream from my eye balls. annnnnyways... ashes are so gross and cool. it's not ash like from a wood fire. they're hard. solid. with big chunks of bone. and tooth. so.. right? talking about how i havent dealt with his death but JUICED off the ash and bone. i'm crazier than i know. i'm just trying to be more vulnerable. erin told me a while back that it freaks her out sometimes that im not at all.. not even with her. so? as terrible as it makes me feel.. im trying. to. be. vulnerable. uhhhhgggg. ok. back to ME (!?) i was at my ma's digging thru stuff and i found a bottle of red halloween hairspray. i used it. a lot of it. and now? my herr done turned pink. hopefully.. it will wash out.i already washed it twice... i was really enjoying the white on the tips.. and planning on doing a bunch grey. suck a fuck everything. i dont want pink hair. here are some terribly unattractive photos of me, today. at work. with The Hair. 

enjoy, or dont.

yump. and here is my full shavins

and that's a bee. i know, dont look like it right? 
well FUCK you. it is.

 well, HOT DAMN! have you been to little shorts lately?
now? i have to do this. in one week.

206.

QUEEN

this is a picture my dad took of QUEEN in germany in the late 70's or early 80's.

fuckin' siiiiiick, right?

he saw them while he was stationed in germany. the lucky fuck

205.

father's day 

doesn't mean shit to me.

only because my pops is gone.

i went to my ma's yesterday before going on visit with the gran folks.  she found a box full of pictures of my dad, and pictures that he took. he thought he was a photographer.. not so much really. anyways, he was fantastic and i am thrilled beyond words to have found these pictures. i think i am going to start a blog or tumblr with all his pictures.. from the army.. parties and shit like that. would be cooooool. anyways, like he always used to say 

"eat your lettuce, it's good for your butt"

119.

girl can't help it

that's my pops on top. and his brother on the bottom, he has one eye. my dad is dead.
i spent a lot of time with these two as youngin'. i idolized and adored them both. my dad was definitely the coolest.
short and stocky. he had blonde hair and blues eyes and dark skin. eh hem. dark for a white guy. well, i guess HE wasn't white. but i'm white.
my pops was a quarter injin and a quarter bean. a quarter i-talian and a quarter mick.
he loved to talk. and talk and talk and talk. he woke up at 6am every morning and drank a cup of black coffee.
he always brushed his teeth, and he cut the sleeves off of all his t-shirts. he listened to queen. he called me Baby Girl.
he worked as a mechanic for the sewer treatment company of half moon bay, and then san francisco. he was loud mouthed, like REALLY loud, he was opinionated and loved to discuss, aka argue.
when i was a kid, and we lived in the trailer park in moss beach, he would buy a beater. fix it up. sell it. buy a beater. fix it up. sell it. booger bugs, buses, old dodge trucks, off roaders.
my uncle was a biker. leather jacket, rough neck sun burned biker. skull caps and leather pony tails. the most fashionable man in my blood line. and for a moment, they lived together. and me and sam would come and visit on the weekends. they would talk, LOUD. work on machines LOUD. eat, drink and watch tv LOUD. they had the same laugh. well. jerry still has the same laugh. kevin doesn't laugh anymore.
anyways. the point? i'm a salty old cunt at the ripe age of 23 because idolized farting sexist mechanics as a girl instead of sinead o'connor. i wanted to be an old bike riding dude when i was a girl.
(like i'm not a girl anymore?) i picked up their sense of humor, it's disgusting and brutal. and i love it. the lack of open affection, replaced by sarcasm and insults. i wouldn't have it any other way.
they gave me all that, and a deep rooted love of the working man.
the smell of oil, old spice and marijuana. stale beer and coffee. that scent of clean, deep under the layers of years of working grime. mmm hmmm.
the smell of a mechanic. the scratch of a beard. rough fat hands. hairy armpits, big GUNS. characters. vibrant characters is what i like.
and it's all thanks two these two dudes.
hi dad. i hope you miss me, cuz i sure as fuck miss you.