They call me a cry baby, but I don't fucking care! I've never been called a cry baby. Emotionally dead inside, but not an emotional tear jerker. Recently I saw Melanie Martinez on her Cry Baby tour. I've made it a habit of going to a lot of concerts this year and Melanie Martinez did not disappoint. I got there an hour before the show was supposed to start with my escort. We parked and I would say we parallel parked, but it was not that intricate. Despite getting there when the doors opened, we stood around the corner for 57 minutes to get in. Security was doing searches. Something I appreciated after lax checks at the Sheryl Crow concert. |
Nothing is probably going to happen, but probably is never a good way to prioritize your life. The show was fantastic. Handsome Ghost opened (they were more attractive up close then expected) and Melanie Martinez ran around her Cry Baby stage. There was a wolf and adequately costumed musicians on top of the birthday cake. She ended the night saying she'd “be back” and that there would be a new album (!) next year. We shall see if that's true, but I ran into an old high school friend with my arms dressed in fishnet stockings. Met her boyfriend and I'm sure he was just obsessed with me.
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August 12th
7:30 am This morning I was getting dressed for the day and I couldn't figure out why I have four more outfits for the next two days. I also have five pairs of shoes for a four day trip, but not even that merciless shower head could beat the answer into me. In other news I sleep deprived myself just enough that I wasn't kept up by the air conditioning unit. Ready for today.
We gave up and settled on our next stop. The Outlet Mall. We got there at 9:30. It didn't open until 10:00. Our options were clear. Find somewhere else to spend our time. Google did not fail us this time. We settled on a coffee shop in St. Charles. It had Picasso in the title. It seemed quaint. I was the only one who got coffee. It was called Black Forrest and was supposed to taste of cherry's. It served it's purpose about as well as Boomer likes modern art (he's not a fan).
We actually bought something. Usually boutique shopping involves a lot of browsing. We did that. But, this store was within three college students price ranges. The twins bought two hand towels. One for their mother and the other for their brother's fiancee. Miss Sara Bellum splurged and bought a good luck token for her dorm room.
A gallery was opened down the street. The artwork was reasonably priced if you weren't in a dorm room with cinder block walls. There was shoe shop named Gene's that catered to visiting Floridians. Bars and restaurants dotted the street. A club was in one of the buildings. If only we were twenty one.
I never would have thought to stop in St. Charles. Or even thought of it as a destination choice, but it's something I wish I'd been able to see more of. It was picturesque. You could spend a solid day exploring it or trying to get off the roundabout. Which, ever came first.
We were not as successful clothes wise as we might have hoped. We found one thing at Burlington Coat Factory. A pair of shorts for the sexy Sara Bellum. Rainbow was useless. Surprisingly it was Charlotte Russe that we did well. I got two scarves for two dollars each. I couldn't help myself. The twins tried on clothes. Bought clothes. So many I can't remember. Most of my time was spent trying on Boho hats and twerking to Britney Spear's “Pretty Girls” with what little ass I have.
Buy "Pretty Girls"
In a true spot of sophistication. We got takeout from Panda Express and ate our food in the sculpture park under the shade of a beautiful trade. I was in my four inch wedges and I had little idea that the pathways were gravel and so much was off road. The map I have spread out makes little more sense now then it did at the park. We planned on walking one of the three trails. Either the ten minute Whitaker Woods Trail or the twenty five minute Central Pathway. We did a little of all trails and marveled at all the work.
There was a dog house nicer then my room. Portraits by Maude Earl. A British painter famous for her work on dogs. The most reading intensive part of the exhibit revolved around service dogs. It's hard not to be amazed at how capable these animals are.
It had portraits by Liat Yossifor that dealt with the aesthetic of cave painting and the intuitive act of finger painting. Her works were mostly solid white with different textures and only limited use of primary color. One of the works on display was entitled Yellow II.
They were also doing an entire demonstration called the Sanatorium. We were only able to participate in one of the parts available. It was interactive and was supposed to gauge ways to help people achieve group therapy. We wrote down our darkest secrets tied it up with twine and read one of the previous respondents answer.
Mine discussed how lonely they felt even among people they were close to. The curator explained that was normal. It's disturbing how commonplace such an emotion can be.
The other two artists on display were Richard Tuttle and Fred Sandback. I would argue that there were works were minimalist. I would even argue that art might be a strong word for what they were doing.
God, I sound just like Boomer.
11:39 pm
Last night at America's Best Value Inn. My ear buds and I are listening to The 1975. The album not their new song “Medicine”. Found out that Miss Sara Bellum doesn't like them. Like truly doesn't like them. Strongly hates. It surprised me.
Buy "Medicine"
Our dinner consisted of going out scandalously clad. I was scantily covered. The Mayor didn't change. Miss Sara Bellum did. She informed me I looked like a cute lesbian from behind. I asked her if she would date me and she told there couldn't be two lipsticks in the relationship.
We had planned on going to Bailey's Chocolate Bar for dessert. We couldn't find it. @ Google get your life. Instead we drove around downtown St. Louis. This was our first time downtown. We'd avoided it the entire trip just to find out that it's mainly banks and Hard Rock Cafe with an expensive mall. We almost ran over the same man twice, while he was trying to cross the street. There comes a point when it's not all my fault.
In a spat of going hard or going home without google we ended up on the freeway. Picture Dionne in Clueless. That was me.
Our night ended with an intense game of Parcheesi. Nothing like a dice version of Sorry to make you want to punch a best friend in the face. At some point we reverted back to Zero. A trivia based question game that was less competitive with us playing. “Name one of the six states in Australia”. Answer that none of us know this answer.
That's Americans for you.
My music has switched to Lana Del Rey and 11:57 AM seems a good time to end today. Wrapped up in a heather pink infinity loop scarf...
10:22 pm
Driving for multiple hours on end has not left me exhausted. Currently I have two infinity loop scarfs wrapped around my throat and I'm trying not fall asleep. Our trip has finally come to a close. We got dressed in our floral attire. We packed up and cleaned up. We were ready to check out of our hotel. We did that and we made our way to the St. Louis Botanical Gardens. They were amazing.
His bachelor home was amazing. Goals stamped on a house. It turned out he was a writer. For a moment we thought we'd heard of him. We mistakenly mixed his last name with that of British playwright George Bernard Shaw. Similiar but not close.
The most fascinating thing about Henry Shaw was that the died a bachelor. He never married. He never had children. What an interesting thing for a wealthy bachelor. It makes one wonder what he did with his spare time.
Multiple signs informed us that we were not allowed to wade in the lake. I wanted to ask who would do that. Then, I realized if there was a sign that meant someone had done it. Much like the “don't feed the red fox” sign. There must be a story behind that.
This church had me reconsidering my stance on the justice of the peace. I wanted to walk down the aisle with 2,500 of my closest friends while the organ plays and Andre Boccelli sings to me in Italian. I'm afraid I was scantily clad for such a religious place.
There happened to be a tour going on. It was fascinating. The man was much older. He was probably more then disturbed by me. I thought he was funny. He gave quite an enjoyable tour. He pointed out so much of the religious imagery I never would have caught. How the three domes represented the son, the ghost, and the holy spirit. More amazingly how there wasn't a single drop of paint in the church.
We drove in silence. We listened to Katy Perry's One of the Boys. Only the fourth time I've listend to that album all the way through. I forgot how offensive “I Kissed A Girl” and “Your So Gay” are. They may have shock value, but she comes across as a terrible person.
The trip was a success. Our friendship is intact. And, sitting here typing this at 10:55 pm is a far improvement over being at work. The only thing I missed was the dog and he's right here.
A few months ago my grandmother passed away. Please don't feel sorry for me. I wasn't close to the woman. I don't think she ever really liked me and I was okay with that. She was a very superficial woman. She did some terrible things in her life. She was never outright mean to me, but I just wasn't a fan. I didn't even go to the funeral. It happened during the school year and I didn't want to go. It was my birthday in two days and I really didn't want to be at a funeral. My parents went up to pay their respects. I stayed home from school. It all worked out well. This summer my mother decided to go up to help my great aunt and my grandfather out. She was gone for three weeks and I had no idea what she was doing. I couldn't have taken off three weeks from work to go help anyway. So, I'm just sitting there this weekend watching Madonna's Sticky and Sweet Tour as one does, when I hear the garage door opening. I knew my mother was coming home. It didn't shock me. I pause the movie and I go out to say hello to her. Now I also knew that my mother had taken two sets of dishes from my grandfather's. My mother said we were going to get rid of our “daily ware” and replace it with one of the new ones. Our daily ware was not an extensive set the way these two are. These were fine china. Now I also knew that my mother had taken two sets of dishes from my grandfather's. My mother said we were going to get rid of our “daily ware” and replace it with one of the new ones. Our daily ware was not an extensive set the way these two are. These were fine china. For some reason, I didn't think about how my mother protected this china. So, when I opened the trunk I was shocked to find each piece wrapped individually, in clothing. I'm telling you, I don't know why I didn't put the pieces together. All of my aunts had ravaged my grandmother's closets, I knew my grandfather was giving away her clothing, what I didn't expect was for it all to be in the trunk of our car. Mind you my grandmother had horrible taste. Expensive taste, but not good taste. Of all the things I helped unload, I took two things. They were both scarves. That way I can be all uppity and proper during the winter. Our counters were lined with all the clothing. I'm still amazed by it. Our house now smells like my grandparents. I smell them in the clothes and the clothes are every where. My grandfather also gave me this game called The Bard's Tale Volume 1. It's a computer game on floppy discs. Not the small floppy discs. The humongous ones that not even my computer from 1998 would play. I laughed and cried. I'm framing it and putting it up on my wall as a relic of yesteryear. I don't know if my Aunt was trying to compete with this. But she gave us this beautiful antique robin blue lamp and a griddle. I have no answers for you. My mother was less successful in helping my Aunt. She sprayed for ants at her house and took her to a few doctors appointments. That sounds more like a vacation to me. During the winter my 84 year old aunt's skin broke, so she wanted to see a dermatologist. He told her she had to use hypoallergenic soap, not pick at her skin, and that cetaphil was good for anyones skin. She then asks him, “What about these bruises on my arm?” He says to her, “There's nothing we can really do about that. It's because of your age and the fact that you take aspirin.” I also know just from taking anatomy that you lose adipose tissue as you grow older, and adipose is a layer of fatty tissue that helps insulate you from shock. If I'm remembering correctly. What my aunt gets from this is: “He can't do anything about it. I'm too old.” No, dear Aunt that is not what he told you. My aunt also refuses to get rid of the soap that caused her to break out. She has put it in a bag by her bed.
This is just what my mother has told me. I have no more explanation for this, then you do. I am so lost. Our family is now also using cetaphil. My mother took the dermatologist's advice and there is a bottle in every bathroom. It helps with you skin, so if it works, I will let you know. It's supposed to make your skin softer, cleanse it from all that bacteria. What I have gotten from all this is that I will soon be even more beautiful then I am now. Fingers crossed. |
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