my octogenarian hottie

This is the old guy that I met that night I peed on my work.

http://jesscamp.blogspot.com/2009/06/part-one-meeting-gramps.html

(Attempted) dirty girl

I decided to take a "me night" tonight. This means that I decided to stay in for the evening and focus on myself. So I watched the first 3 episodes of "6 Feet Under" and I loved it. I could've done without the man-on-man make-out sessions, though. I don't care if you're gay, whatever, there's just something gross about watching two guys kiss. On the other hand, I don't mind watching women kiss. Whatever.

Afterwards I drove around town to relax and listen to music. It was nice. When I got back I watched "Wild Things" and I enjoyed it. I didn't see some of the twists coming, so I was impressed. Matt Dillion is yummy.

After that, I realized that I was feeling lonely but pretty. I'm still feeling very pretty- my hair is swept in just the right way. Anyway, I was on my computer, looking hot, so I decided to do something that would make me feel hot.

I decided to visit a chat room- something I hadn't done since middle school. I typed "sexy chat room" into google and bravely clicked on one of the first sites. The hard part was creating the perfect screen name. I didn't want to be too suggestive, yet I didn't want to seem unappealing, either. I also needed to let prospective suitors know I was female. I chose "CrazyLady".

I stretched back, giggled, and nervously entered the room. It was like throwing chum in shark-infested waters. The men came to me in droves. At least 10 sent me personal messages and tried to chat me up. It was overwhelming. I wanted to talk with all of them, because that's the kind of girl I am. 

One guy wrote "you wanna chat with an older man?" "Older is appealing, how old?" "51... too old?" "No such thing," I wrote back. 

I switched to another convo with some dude. Things were going well until he asked me if I had a facebook. I told him I did, but that I wouldn't give him my full name, that'd be weird. But then he was like "we could look at each other as we feel ourselves." I didn't write back.

I just kept getting message after message. Some were very x-rated (which were grossly shocking) and some were so innocent that I was turned off by their timidness. It was just a lot to take in.

Another guy, right off the bat asked if I liked it rough and hard. I decided this was my chance to take advantage of this situation. I wrote, "I do. Do you like it wet and tight?" So crude, I know. Right after I typed that in I started screaming "I can't do this! I can't do this! I just can't!" and I slammed my computer shut. I really did yell it. I probably woke the neighbors. Then I got up and paced the room, laughing uncontrollably. 

I don't know why I found it to be so difficult. I can say dirty words, and write sex scenes that I make my classmates in Fiction Creative Writing read, but typing them to pervy strangers is weird. After I got off (of the computer, to clarify) I stared at myself in the mirror, making sultry faces. It's what I do.

Maybe if I try it again I'll come up with a new life for myself. Maybe I'll be a hobo using the computer's library. I think I'll also sip on some wine to class it up.

A convo with Mom

A conversation between my mom and I, yesterday.

-Hey.

-Can't talk, watching Blart.

*dial tone*

A little later.

-Hey Jess.

-What's up?

-Calling you back.

-Right, do you think vampires are real?

-What?

-Vampires. Real or not?

-Not.

-But if they were, would God love them? Would they be his creatures or Satan's messengers?

-It doesn't matter.

-It does.

-They're not real.

-Mom, listen to this. I bet Native Americans didn't believe that Brits were real. Until one day they just showed up and killed them all. Vampires are our Brits.

*pause... lots of laughter...*

-Mom, stop laughing.

-I can't.

-It makes you think.

-No. It's not the same at all. The indians didn't think about the British at all.

-You're wrong. I bet one was floating around the ocean when an indian spotted him on the horizon. He ran and told his elders about the freakly pale Brit in the distance. His chief called him dumb and told him not to believe in Brits.

-Good try Jess.

-Fine, here's a more realistic scenario. One lonely Indian is pondering the meaning of death. He tells his elder, "Chief, I bet one day a big disease could kill us all, we should be prepared." "Silly Squanto, Nature doesn't have things like that. Go back to painting your face." Then what happens, Mom?

-What?

-Small Pox hits. They all die. Small Pox is our vampire.

-Ok.

-It could happen. I bet it is already.

- I gotta go. bye.

*Dial tone*

The Line-Up (add on to previous post)

Here is a link to the current list of interns. She is on there. I won't say her name, but maybe you should look at the photos and see if you can guess who I wouldn't get along with. Maybe she incites rage in everyone. Disregard my photo, though, I look like a man.

http://missourireview.com/main_info/staff.php

This Consuming Hate

I get so filled with hate sometimes. It's awful, really, and this rage happens for really no reason. 

There's this girl who i intern with at the literary journal who just makes me want to drown babies. The first time I laid eyes on her, I was just filled with disgust. I was just like, "ugh, really? You're here? Quit making eye-contact with me, bitch." I hate the b-word, so for me to even think it shows my distaste for this person.

When she returns stories that I've passed to her with condescending negative comments scrawled on the back, I just want to cover her body in papercuts with the manuscript. I've been interning longer than she. When I return a manuscript she gave to me, saying it sucks, she clucks like a chicken and hee-haws like a donkey and passes it to someone else for another opinion. When other people do this, it's no biggie. When I do it to her, it's because I have taste. But when she does it to me, I just want to grab her by her ugly strands of hair, stick them in an industrial fan and see what happens.

I don't know why I let her get to me. I see her smiling and chatting with the higher-ups and it pisses me off. She's always taking extra workloads and all I can think is "you goddamned suckup. You're never going to get higher than an intern  here, so quit it... jerk."

I'm sure she's a lovely lady with lovely friends and a caring family, but fuck all that. I hate her. She speaks up during the class portion of the internship, speaking on the behalf of those who can't articulate what they want to say. You're not a mediator, so let someone flounder in their words. You're just a person past her prime who's trying to get back a life she lost.

One Liners

-I almost got in a head-on collision today. I didn't, though, just almost.

-I pimped myself out on Twitter by tweeting a video of Andy milonakis that I never watched in hopes that he'd promote my blog- he didn't.

-I hissed in the mirror vampire-style today.

-I payed my parking tickets- all $85 worth of them.

-I rocked my Gap interview.

-I picked up a Vox story about ways to cook Road Kill.

-I'm broker than broke.

-I won a free party for 16 to the local comedy club, it's my 3rd time winning.

-I hit up the Sonic for Happy Hour.

- I plan on staying in all week (minus fri-sat) in an effort to get stuff done.

-I got hired to house-sit in October.

-When my sis asked why I had so many tickets I told her "I don't have a parking spot and it's not like I can carry the car on my back all day."

-I saw MJ's ghost.

-I read that Panic At The Disco split.

-I thought about punching multiple people.

-I watched a lot of True Blood.

-I wallowed in self-pity about money issues.

-I found out Tracy gets to go to college for free, which is nice.

-I'm now friends with my cousin and aunt on facebook.

-I decided that I really do believe in vampires and that they'd make the best boyfriends and that I'm going to make a separate post to defend this statement in the future.

Live on the edge, it's ok.

Yesterday was America's birthday- one of my favorite holidays. I love fireworks. They are mystical and pretty. I am both terrified and turned on by fire, so this holiday was really designed with me in mind.

We started out the evening by going to Les Bougeouis to listen to some live music, eat bbq, and look at the Missouri river. It was nice, but I was quiet because I had nothing to say. I wasn't in the mood to make fake banter. So people kept looking at me and asking me "what's wrong? You're not peppy." That was driving me wild- and not in a good way. But after I snapped and yelled "You're making me not ok!" they sort of backed off.

After that, we all went to Ameena's apartment to pick up my fireworks and to meet up with Ben and Anthony. Then we went to Cooper's Landing to shoot them off. Sadly it started raining when we got there, so Anthony thought it'd be a good idea to go to some elementary school's parking lot to shoot them off (it wasn't raining inside Columbia, C Landing is out of the county, I think).

We roll up to the lot, to see a sign that had been posted by the police, saying that shooting fireworks was prohibited. 

"Damn, now I don't know what to do."- Anthony

"What do you mean?"- me

"We can't shoot them here, I don't know what to do."

"Why can't we do it here?"

"The sign, Jess, the sign."

"It's just a sign, fuck it."

"No, that sign is enforceable."

I muttered, "I guess it's going to arrest you?" he didn't hear, I don' think.

I was shocked that everyone cared about the dumb sign. It's just a sign. I told them that if- and it was a big "if"- we got caught, they would only take our fireworks and not lock us up. As I was the only one in that car who had bought fireworks, I was the only one who had something to fear. And I wasn't so no one else should have been.

I was genuinely surprised by the fear that a measly sign can elicit. If you live a safe life, chances are that you'll live an unfulfilled life. I like my friends a lot, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's fun to break the rules. It's boring always having to be a "good" person or do the "right" thing. 

I'm also surprised by how many people are afraid to try to get drinks when they're underage. If you use your real ID, you won't get in trouble. Of course, if the cops raided and busted you with a drink you would, but that's what makes it fun. It's fun to see if the waiter card's you and if he does, it's cool to see if he'll actually look at your birthdate or not.

I wasn't always so good at it. I once ordered a drink, and when the waitress asked for my ID I giggled uncomfortably and said "oh, I'm sorry, I tried to trick you, I didn't really think you'd ask, I'll just have a water, I'm so sorry."

But other nights, I just strolled up to a bar and asked for a drink and didn't get carded. I've even gone to the bar with a big stamp on my hand for being underage and still have them serve me. I even did that once when the police were around, pulling people out. That may not have been my smartest moment, but it was one of my most thrilling.

Sadly, now that I'm 21, I can't get this rush anymore. So now I try to get it by accumulating a lot of unpaid parking tickets. 

Anyway, we ended up finding some random street around a new subdivision to shoot them off at. It was fun and secluded. I had a great time.

What I'm saying is, it's fun to live on the edge- even if that means ignoring a stupid, irrelevant, unintimidating sign. 

Jesse + Me = Fun

This has been a good week away from Vox. I really should've worked a little on the story I'm writing, but I didn't feel like it, so I didn't. If the editors get a break, then I deserve one too.

Instead, I went home with my home girl Catherine. It was wonderful! She's from Excelsior Springs, which is a suburbish area of Kansas City. It's a rural place. I was in heaven! There were fireflies galore. Do they even have those in Baton Rouge? I don't remember.

When we rolled up to her house, we were treated like queens. Her mom (Karen) and stepdad (Mark) prepared nice burgers and fries for us. They took us on a tour of the woods they have in their backyard and showed me all of the flowers they grew. Karen even gave me a walking stick. I felt very regal.

The next day, Mark, Catherine and I went to Kearney, MO to see Jesse James' house! It was so exciting. I am obsessed with that era of history. Honestly, though, I prefer Robert Ford to Jesse- he was not a coward. He was a hero and it's a shame that he's been reviled in history.

Anyway, the house was small but nice. I learned a lot about the history and I just  loved that I got to walk where he walked and touch what he touched. 

I knew that his mom's name was Zerelda as was his wife's. I thought they had hideous names, but maybe that was just common back then. Nope- he married his first cousin, who was named after his mother. Isn't that gross. Maybe, maybe, I could marry a cousin, but if he were named after my dad? No way! Ugh!

We also went to his grave. It was neat to touch the headstone. I feel like I may have been him in my past life. We do have the same name (kind of) so there's that.

Later that night, her mom once again cooked us dinner. It was nice to be in that sort of environment. We then went to The Melting Pot for dessert. It was wonderful. We had the Yin Yang and enjoyed pleasant conversation.

I hope to go back again soon.