detox

Angelique Morgan Interview Update!!!

2008-09-01T10:12:00.001-04:00

As some of you may already know, I was scheduled to interview Angelique Morgan, aka Frenchy, from Season 2 of 'Rock of Love with Bret Michaels.'

Well, the skank stood me up!!!!

If you're bored and need a little useless info, read about it all http://www.flisted.com/40294/your-daily-fug-221/.

In other somewhat related news, F-Listed generated 2.8 million page views this month, with nearly 900,000 unique visitors. Yeah boi!

This post has been approved by Spaghetti Cat.

Late Night Rambles

2008-08-28T00:46:00.004-04:00

There have been literally a million different stories I've been meaning to capture in print, but frankly I'm too tired to put in the effort lately. But in short this is some of it.

Having joined MySpace a month after its inception back in 2003, I find Facebook to be extremely confusing and I do not like it in the least. However, since all my Rican friends are on Facebook I log in every once in a while and see what's been going on in everyone's lives.

So today I log on and see that the little sister of some chick I grew up with was recently in Africa doing some veterinary studies through the University of Florida. Then I saw some other classmate of mine's photos of her in Lima, Peru and it made me think.

Perhaps I'm showing my age and the mentality that prevails during this time of our lives, or just the mentality I was raised around, but I always thought money could be quite evil. I saw the way my mom struggled to get by when I was a kid and how so many of my classmates drove expensive cars and had tons of money and it never seemed fair 'cause half of them were jackasses. But then I saw these photos and it kind of made me smile.

Money might be evil, but I can only imagine how happy and proud their parents must be to see their little girls travel the world. And theoretically when they are fully grown and married and have kids they too will work hard so that their kids can see the world and experience life in its fullest capacity. I guess it's appreciation that changes money. When someone is grateful for what they have and don't use what fortune has come their way to just get high or drunk or spend it on expensive cars they just crash and replace or hookers and I don't know, whatever else assholes blow their mad cash on.

Because if and when I have kids I'd love it for them to see the world. At 25, I still haven't seen much of what I'd have hoped to experience, but I know that I'm still young and will get there in due time. But I would never deny my kids that if I had that kind of income. There are so many people out there in the world abused or not priviledged enough to experience such wonderous sites and sounds and foods, that I think it'd be a waste to have all that money and not see as much of the world as you truly can.

So there's that. And then there's this. If you know me then you know that my brother and I don't talk. We pretty much haven't talked since 2005, but officially officially for over a year now. I don't know what I've done for him to see me as such a selfish, reckless, inconsiderate, foolish person, but I refuse to subject myself to such an abusive relationship.

All that aside, I seriously had to fight back tears when I read his MySpace page today. We're not friends on the site, but I found him and saved him under My Favorites and now pretty much pop in and see what's going on every month or two or so. And if you know anything about my brother then you know he's an angry and cynical man who said he'd never get married or have kids and that love was all bullshit and blah blah blah.

So today I read his profile and it was the most heartbreaking thing ever. He literally pours his bleeding heart all over the place and I couldn't get over how sincere he was. He really just completely 100 percent broke out of his shell and it's baffling. And after I read every single word his broken heart confessed I found myself getting very angry. Because him and I used to be very very very very close when I was a little girl, and I can't believe I'm not there for him when he needs me most.

And as much as I wish I could be the bigger man and call him and put all the rest aside, I know we'd just end up screaming at each other again. I just can't understand why he's able to say he was wrong about love and that he's made mistakes because of this chick he's dated for 7 months, and he can never say he's sorry to me and say he's made mistakes when I've been a part of his life for 25 years.

Daily Affirmations/Things I Love

2008-08-20T00:15:00.007-04:00

School is back in session which means I've retreated into Melysa World, never to be seen again. Until the next time, here are a few of my current faves:

Miles Davis and Chet Baker every early mornin', followed by ABBA
CBS' Swingtown (No judging!)
Being able to walk to Target in 5 minutes flat
Being able to walk to Kroger in 2 minutes flat
Having my own office/library
Lily Allen
Home cooked meals
Snuggling with CJ to old episodes of Dexter
Running around with Kayla in the yard
My Gary Baseman toy sitting above my laptop
Going to bed early
Waking up to do yoga
Going to the gym
Reading my friend 'Elisabeth' share how her (used) panties flew out of her purse onto the floor at our local supermarket (Seriously LOL)
Listening to The Skatalites in the noontime
New York Magazine
Complex Magazine
Professors who don't suck hairy balls
Catching up with old friends on the phone
Having Girl's Night here in the ATL
Being a bridesmaid to a couple I know isn't destined for heartache
Getting a raise
New paint for our new home walls
Painting my soon-to-be red back door
Talking to my mommy every day
Talking to my daddy every day
Starting my own website
Feeling optimistic of the future
"My Custom Van: And 50 Other Mind-Blowing Essays that Will Blow Your Mind All Over Your Face" by Michael Ian Black
Bedtime
Oh, yeah.. and homemade strawberry shortcake. Hell...yeah.

2008-08-15T10:41:00.002-04:00

"Let’s get lost, lost in each other’s arms
Let’s get lost, let them send out alarms
And though they’ll think us rather rude
Let’s tell the world we’re in that crazy mood.
Let’s defrost in a romantic mist
Let’s get crossed off everybody’s list
To celebrate this night we found each other, mmm, let’s get lost

Let’s defrost in a romantic mist
Let’s get crossed off everybody’s list
To celebrate this night we found each other, mm, let’s get lost
oh oh, let’s get lost"

"Quote, Unquote"

2008-08-15T00:30:00.007-04:00

About 12-time Olympic Gold medalist Michael Phelps:

"That Phelps-- he's a fucking dolphin."

-- Elba Encarnación (aka Mommy), 08/14/08

Dinner is Served! 08.13.08

2008-08-14T09:57:00.002-04:00

Who the fuck buys this shit?

2008-08-13T11:17:00.003-04:00

2:55 AM and counting

2008-08-13T02:56:00.018-04:00

Nights like this really drain the fuck out me. I go into this funk where all I do is question my entire existence and where I'm headed. I'm thinking it's 'cause I just got done paying my bills and who the fuck gets all perked up after that?

But it's okay, because I'm going to be a millionaire some day soon. You laugh now, but you'll be crying in amazement when it happens.

In the meantime, here I am at 3 AM checking out Post Secret with tears running down my cheeks. Yes, I'm crying. It's just that there are so many people with secrets in the world. Real secrets. Deep, dark, unthinkable secrets. It's weird to think how we're all islands. You, me, them. All of us have secrets.

But that's not why I'm crying. I just imagine half of these people putting these postcards together in their rooms, hands shaking, knowing that someone will read their thoughts, even if they never know who wrote it. The relief they feel must be unmeasurable. It kind of makes me wonder how it must be to feel that.

F-Listed: Still Going Strong

2008-08-12T09:07:00.003-04:00

1991

2008-08-11T19:02:00.002-04:00

I Heart America

2008-08-11T09:15:00.001-04:00

Get Into The Groove: St. Germain

2008-08-08T13:32:00.003-04:00

.obsessed

2008-08-08T12:14:00.005-04:00

Angelique Morgan = FAIL

2008-08-07T22:59:00.004-04:00

Next week is my rescheduled interview with Angelique Morgan, aka Frenchie from VH1's Rock of Love II.

And these (Yes, these!) photos are the press stills they sent me of her.

Question: Is that before or after the Photoshopping?

D-O-G

http://www.lostdog.biz/

2008-08-06T13:35:00.003-04:00

LostDog.biz, expected launch date January 1, 2009.

Anderson Cooper needs to hurry up and become my new best girlfriend

2008-08-06T04:38:00.001-04:00

Anderson Cooper: "I can’t believe I’m wasting a minute of my life watching these horrific people. Living Lohan is just atrocious.

"Then there’s this seemingly nice 14 year-old girl, who looks to be about 60. She allegedly wants to be a singer, and/or actress slash performer of some sort, strip tease person, I don’t know. I say that with love and concern."

Kelly Ripa: "Their obviously a multi-talented family, the kids sing, and perform."

Anderson Cooper: "Uh yeah sure, maybe that’s in the episode I didn’t see."

Phallic Shaped Food? Animal Balls? Thanks, But No Thanks

2008-08-05T21:09:00.006-04:00

You don't even have to be a pervert to see where this one is going.

Whatever woman has come in contact with Andrew Zimmerman's DNA is as symptomatically psychotic as that Man vs. Wild dude and whatever Stepford wife spawned with him. It bothers me how both those men will stick anything in their mouth without hesitation.

My love for food goes unmatched, but phallic-shaped foods is one line I can not yet cross. Hot dogs, in particular, are the worst. I've sat at baseball games waiting until everyone was involved with their own food order before I took so much as a bite from my hot dog.

Perhaps it's my perverted mind, but every time I see someone throwing back a hot dog all I can picture is them naked and lusting for head. And in similar fashion, I assume others think the same of me when I've got a hot dog deep in my throat.

In an interview with a travel magazine, Andrew Zimmerman shamelessly talks about his job as animal ball eater:

"I have eaten the following testicular treats, often times accompanied by the penis as well: snake, yak, cow, goat, rooster, duck, goose, donkey, water buffalo, frog, deer, elk and probably about a dozen others. The balls are great, especially on smaller animals and when eaten extremely fresh. Rooster balls are one of my faves, they are not too gamey, very creamy and when steamed, then quickly pan crisped and served with hot chiles and lime, they are addictive in the extreme."

Back from commercial break and now the chef preparing the meal explains the best way to cook the elephant trunk clam is to boil it and then remove it's exterior skin. The clam's skin bears a great resemblance to the lining encasing sausages.

That is until you see them begin to peel the skin from it's dildo-shaped counterpart. Then it bears a stronger resemblance to a used condom filled with some dude's DNA preserves. Most likely Andrew Zimmerman's. That man is into fucking animals and we all know it.

Following the removal of the trunk's lining, the clam is separated from its shell and sliced into a more manageable food shape. All the while the chef holding this ginormous clam that could easily replace Mexico's famous donkey shows.

And really, the clam isn't that big a deal when you consider how many animal balls his intestines have rid him of. The man willingly bites, chews, and swallows animal balls, a part of the anatomy which holds animal semen. Does this frighten anyone else as it does me?

XA2

2008-08-05T21:00:00.001-04:00

Two of my photos were selected as favorites in Creative Loafing's Flickr photostream favorites. It's the little things that make me smile.

1199 Hardee Street

2008-07-30T22:22:00.012-04:00

Our new place:

Yard

Porch
Back entrance into kitchen

Kitchen. Check out my flat screen TV on the wall!!!

Dining Room

Living Room

Office (behind French door)
Other angle of living room.

Bathroom.

Our bedroom.

Spare Bedroom.

(untitled)

2008-07-20T01:32:00.001-04:00

I know I'm a little late in the game, but I'm totally in love with Lily Allen. Everything and anything and all of it in between.

Ham'n'eggs

2008-06-25T09:50:00.003-04:00

I've decided to actively change the way it should be done, the hiring process and office politics of it all.

This past Monday I met with my boss and I made sure he knew what I thought of his company. This week I'm hiring a part-timer for the site so I can finally take vacations and have a day off every once in a while. But I've realized I just can't hire anybody.

I can't work with lazy people. It will fuck with my chi and I will spend the entire day bitching. And the older I get I've realized that you can control most everything so long as you break it down and figure out the solution. In this case I need someone I can rely on, someone I can trust, and someone who is both talented and a hard worker.

I've begun to make coffee dates with some girls. I figure I'll just lay it straight to them. Tell them how shitty they are, but that she'd be working with me and so it should not be an issue. Tell them how it's easy money and a good experience and that we are steadily growing.

If I don't tell them the truth they will always secretly hate me, and hatred never equates with progress. I can't sell the bullshit. Plus, it'll come back to get you. No, not Karma. Math. Yes, math. Mathematically you are building a future filled with hard times and lonely nights if you treat people like dirt. And no amount of money can make you feel whole.

It's the World's Smallest Violin and It's Playing Just For Me

2008-06-19T17:40:00.003-04:00

So I'm pretty much starting to hate my job. I mean, there's no denying we've had a love/hate relationship over the past year, but the more I think about it the more I don't want to be doing this. How long can one person talk about chicks in bikinis? UrbanDictionary has never come in as handy as with this job. I know now over 20 synonyms for the word "breasts."

Ultimately my dream is still New York City. For the last several weeks I've applied to several other jobs (all in NYC) in hopes that maybe I will cross paths with an even greater fate for me. But alas, nothing has come my way.

The biggest problem isn't my job, so much as the reality that I don't freelance -- at all. What kind of writer doesn't write?! The problem is I don't believe in my writing. I've never really liked it and I don't really know that I ever will. I've been told countless times that I write well, but everything I write is just train of thought rambles with no clear cut point or direction. Who the hell wants to publish that?

Things have gotten so out of hand that I'm going to a psychologist... for my writing. Not because I have mommy or daddy issues, or because my boyfriend talks down to me, or because I have voices in my head. I'm going because I get anxiety attacks just thinking about submitting my work somewhere.

Everytime I read an author's work it makes me want to cry. I just sit there and reread the sentences over and over again, as if to absorb the knowledge and creativity the author possesses.

If I don't wind up becoming a career writer I honestly don't know what I'll do with my life. I've done the whole administrative assistant thing, and it paid great, but I never want to do any of that bullshit ever again. As a matter of fact, if I can avoid office life altogether well, well that would be just fancy.

Alright, now I'm pushing things. I know. It's just that until I know my coworkers well I can't really tell them "Fuck off" and I know one day I'm going to explode and go ape shit and I'll be fired on the spot for flipping the hell out à la "Jerry McGuire."

I honestly feel like I'm becoming crazier with each passing day. I actually write pretty frequently, but then I go back and reread it and none of it makes sense. It's just a series of beautiful sentences jumbled up into an incoherent train of thought void of purpose.

It's not as though I want to be Thoreau or Emerson. I'd be the happiest girl in the world if I could write and publish books like those by David Sedaris, Chelsea Handler, Michael Ian Black, or Rob Sheffield.

In any case, I'll be in Puerto Rico for ten days in July for a much needed vacation. Well, that is if I can find a part-time writer to do Flisted while I'm gone. Ug. We'll see what happens. I'll keep you posted.

There Are Flowers On My Desk

2008-06-05T11:57:00.002-04:00

It's days like today that I'm grateful for not having to work in an office. Office politics is such a drag. Most of all I really just don't like talking to people. People are so overrated. Except if they're really nice, then, of course, they're underrated. Nobody cares if you're nice.

Listening to Kid Koala, drinking coffee out my owl mug, and staring at my beautiful green, fuschia and white flowers.

Today is a good day.

2008-06-04T23:33:00.008-04:00

Today I ordered my flyers for Flisted. I'd made some ghetto fabulous ones, but then the very talented Justin.Visible offered to help me and there was no way I was turning that offer down.

The flyers are to be handed out during the evening outside bars, left at coffee shops and bars, college campuses, etc. Additionally, I have purchased a stamp.

My approach is since we all know those flyers we give them are going to wind up on the floor I would ask them if I could stamp their wrist. That way when they wake up in the morning they're bound to see it. Curiosityl will take over and they'll find themselves inexplicably checking out the site. Oh, maybe I can leave them at porn shops and strip clubs too?! I like that idea.

Once they get here I'm going to have to round up my hot girlfriends and make an Flisted Street Team! I'm totally serious too. Marketing, baby. It can be done on a low budge and still be made properly. Ugh, that just sounded so lame. "Marketing, baby?" That sounds like something Vince Vaughn's character would have said in "Swingers."

Ultimately I feel very accomplished with my efforts. That's one thought I keep circling through my head. I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, but so far so good.

Above photo: Side 1 of the flyer.
Below photos: Side 2 of the flyer. (The first one is my ghetto fabulous one, followed by Justin's.)

In other news: I hope my fortune cookie is right...

"Your present plans are going to succeed within the year."

I'm crossing my fingers.

Creative Loafing's Field Day 2008

2008-06-04T23:30:00.000-04:00

The best part about of the school year was field day. I conquered that shit.

Creative Loafing's Field Day 2008
Saturday, June 21st
Pearl Street Park

Jesse Jane Press Release

2008-06-03T18:47:00.005-04:00

Yeah, boi!

Here is Digital Playground's press release for the interview I did with porn star Jesse Jane.

Adult entertainer or not, I feel like I'm moving forward.

Here's a close-up of a segment:

On Media Writers

2008-06-02T00:15:00.005-04:00

"We're working in the digital equivalent of a sweatshop, effectively being paid based on how many views we can drum up -- and now the goalposts are being moves mid-kick. This is unnerving and a slap in the face to the "creative underclass" that writes for Gawker's blogs.

"If a potential advertiser asked Gawker to start running its ads and promised to negotiate terms later, they'd be laughed out of the room -- but that is exactly what the company is asking of its writers."

-- Gawker Writer in Revolt Over Pay Rate Cut, Condé Nast Portfolio, 04/01/08

Tabasco: There is No Substitute

2008-05-31T04:39:00.002-04:00

I have a question: Whatever happened to Tabasco? It used to be that everybody had Tabasco at their restaurants and bars. Nobody serves it anymore. You actually have to ask for it. Hot sauce is always on the table, just never Tabasco. It’s like Maria’s Oven-Roasted Garlic Hot Sauce something or the other. But while Maria’s might have a good flavor, it’s in no way comparable to the kick you find in Tabasco -- red or green.

It’s as though Tabasco has become too corporate for our tastes. Tabasco has become the Wal-Mart of hot sauces. Every restaurant has it’s “own” hot sauce, as if to tell us they’re willing to step outside the box and evolve with the times.

Don’t get me wrong, sauces like Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce (aka, “Rooster Sauce” as a friend of mine calls it) is one of those hot sauces that really knows how to work up one’s juices, but Tabasco is a part of our American heritage. Like Coke and Jell-O, Tabasco isn’t even a name -- it is its own being.

Ultimately it’s up to us to save Tabasco from being forgotten. The next time you go out to eat, and Tabasco isn’t a the table, ask for it. Let them know there’s no substitute for Tabasco. The others can try all they want, but still there’s no better sauce to throw atop my Sunday morning eggs -- sunny side up -- than good old-fashioned Tabasco.

Get Into the Groove: "Electric Feel" by MGMT

2008-05-31T04:37:00.002-04:00

Porn Star Jesse Jane Pt. 2

2008-05-28T13:11:00.003-04:00

Woo!

I just finished my interview! Jesse Jane was super sweet. And even though I have a pretty dirty mouth and mind, I must admit I was kind of uncomfortable asking the things I did, and hearing her responses (i.e., "Would you rather swallow, receive a pearl necklace or get a facial?" She answered facial, BTW.)

When I was in 11th grade my science project was a paneling of my entire high school to see what turned men and women on. My teachers must have thought I was a total whore. Hahaha. Luckily for me, I have a job where I can say what I want, even if I don't really mean or have experienced all the filth I come up with.

Anyhoo, so the interview goes up next Monday. All you perverts should check it out. Not because you watch porn, or because I'm your friend (and you should totally support me), but because you want to hear all the dirty things that came out of her mouth. I'm still in shock. FILTHY!

Porn Star Jesse Jane Pt. 1

2008-05-28T13:09:00.004-04:00

< style="font-weight: bold;">Jesse Jane, who is easily considered to be the next Jenna Jameson.

I'm super excited!

And oddly enough, nervous too!

Wish me luck!

My Only Regret in Life... Ever

2008-05-26T14:50:00.003-04:00

To this very day this is the ONLY thing that haunts me.

Growing up I had many a pet, ranging from dogs to bunnies to snakes to birds to fish to ferrets, and I love each and every one very much. But my doggies were always my favorites. Puerto Rico has many a stray and my family and I adopted as many as we could during my years growing up on the island.

The first was Jackie (I named her after my best friend), a stray whom approached me on my neighborhood street one afternoon when I was in second grade and proceeded to follow me home at the end of the night. The next morning when my dad drove me to school she chased after the car for nearly five blocks before my dad pulled over and let her in the car. She was with us ever since.

Jackie was the sweetest, smartest dog I think I've ever met 'til this very day. My family and I were absolutely crazy about her. One day, after two years with our family, she passed away as a result of what I believe was an unborn puppy. She'd just given birth a week before to a single pup on Halloween.

(Sadly, my family and I were unaware of her pregnancy and never got an ultrasound. The smaller the litter, the greater the chance of the puppies being too big for the mother to give birth to them.)

Although we were sad to say goodbye to our dearest family member, we were blessed with her baby and raised her as our very own. Pooch, a Beagle mix, was the most tender dog I think we've ever had. She never harmed a fly.... Nor our rabbit (who was never kept in a cage), nor our ferrets.

Pooch went on to give me the greatest birthday present ever, when she gave birth to a litter of puppies on my 11th birthday. She was so terrified of the experience that she ran from her litter and quivered in a corner while I wearily released them from their sacks at the advice of her vet.

She had seven puppies or so, and all were absolutely adorable. My father requested for me to pick out the strongest one of the litter so he could take it home with him. (My parents are divorced.) In the end i picked one of the last ones born, one of the biggest of the litter who constantly pushed his siblings aside trying to drink from his mother.

My father took Patches home with him, and while he may not have turned out to be the best guard dog, he was the perfect family dog. Patches played with my little brother (around four at the time) with nothing but love and care.

Eventually I moved to The States to go to college and- sadly - my father, too, left Puerto Rico. Unaware of what the future held for him and his family in a new environment, my father reluctantly found Patches a home in Puerto Rico. He said he couldn't take Patches with him.

The only catch was they left before the new home was available, and it was I that was to turn him over to his new family. When I went to take him to his new family they told me they couldn't take him anymore and they were sorry. So I took him home to my mom's and for a week tried to find him a loving home before I headed back to Florida at the end of my summer break.

It's amazing... I couldn't find one single home. I secretly resented my friends with extensive plots of land for not saving my beloved baby who I literally helped bring into this world. When I phoned my father and explained to him the situation he told me what had to be done.

My mother and I then drove back to my father's old place of residence with Patches in tow and did the worst thing I have ever ever ever ever EVER done. I left him. My baby. I literally got out of the car, said goodbye, and got in the car to drive away.

According to my father the neighbor's across the street were always fond of Patches and maybe they would give him a happy home.

As my mother and I drove away, down the hill, I saw Patches in the rear-view mirror running after our car , all the while crying out to us. The sky was overcast and as it began to rain I swear my heart broke into a million little pieces with every tear that I shed.

Family Photo Booth Magic

2008-05-26T00:02:00.005-04:00

Tried to get my mommy and titi to play around with Photo Booth while staying with me. It took some heavy coercion, but they finally gave in.... even if just for 5 minutes.

The result in 3...2...1...

The Perils of Anal Sex

2008-05-23T12:04:00.004-04:00

"Because you're sticking in your penis into a canal full of poo. Think about it? There's poo poo, caca, doo doo, #2... in there. And so that's where your penis is. Is that where you want your penis to be? Think about it."

Personal Essay Workshop

2008-05-23T02:43:00.003-04:00

Hi Melysa,

So sorry it took me this long to send you my notes.

I think the subject is excellent - sex sells - and you might consider Nerve.com as a submission option. Your writing is immediate, visceral, and really engaging. The voice is absolutely there.

For revision, I have one main overarching suggestion - which is that you encompass the information/anecdotes/etc you are giving within a more specific story. Right now it's pretty general - we still don't know who the speaker is, so you should include details about yourself and who the dialogue is between. You could use the frame of this experience as a way to go back into the past history.

I hope this helps! You are a very strong writer and daring.

Cheers,
Liza

A.M. Nonsense

2008-05-21T02:44:00.001-04:00

My mommy and Titi Sonia will be visiting from Puerto Rico during the coming week. Sadly, I'm a slave to my job and so I will be working during the week instead of showing them my self-proclaimed hometown.

Them visiting is a big deal for me, as I have been away from home for nearly ten years now (4.5 in Atlanta) and am finally starting to settle in real nicely. I'll get to show Atlanta off to them. And considering all the stress I put my mom through in high school between blue hair, tongue ring, drinking, going to clubs/bars, doing drugs, and getting frisky with the boys, it's only fair to show her that all her nagging and motherly love has paid off.

In truth, I should be asleep right now. It's 2:49 a.m. and I don't know that my head will be hitting the pillow anytime soon. I just finished cleaning the house and I'm wide awake. Thoughts of the future continue to stir through my head.

Lately I don't know what the hell I want to do with my life. Taking out a loan for this semester proved itself useless, as I wound up withdrawing halfway through the semester. For the first time in my life I found myself really hating school. I'm not certain whether it is the fault of Georgia State being a school of low caliber, or whether or not it's the Georgia public school system in general, but either way I wasn't learning anything and therefore wasting my time.

If I had to do it all over again I would have liked to have attended a private arts college. My mother had suggested it, but I opted against it on account of the exorbitant rates for private institutions. After being in college for seven years, however, I believe I might have already been done had I attended a school where the teachers knew what they were talking about and didn't log into Facebook every second during our scheduled class time.

Part of the problem is I don't even know what I want to do anymore. I've finally come to terms with the reality that I want to work in the entertainment industry. Since I was a little girl I've wanted to work in the industry, but as I grew up my interest in entertainment and everything related to it made me feel shallow. Ultimately I still don't know what I want to do, and that includes whether or not I even want to major in Journalism anymore.

I'm looking into returning to my original major of Creative Writing, which angers me because that means I would pretty much have been done by now had I not switched to Journalism post FSU. MediaBistro offers unlimited amounts of workshops I would certainly benefit from, but at nearly $500 per class I realistically will not be attending of those anytime soon. I'm hoping to transfer (yet again!) to a small private school with trimesters or quarters so I can hurry up and graduate and relieve myself of that stress already

In a perfect world I would have the life of Tina Fey. She is my latest female crush and I'm pretty certain I've read every interview she's given as of late while doing my media research at the local Barnes & Noble. Even her little girl's name is perfect. Alice. How cute is that? I don't even know what she looks like, but I want to scoop her up and steal her away forever.

You wanna hear the really funny part of all this? I'm thinking about joining a theatre group and going to casting calls. Oh my God, I can't believe I just wrote that. Not that anyone is actually reading this, but still. Now I feel committed to follow through! I think the theatre group would be good for me, especially to overcome my insecurities as of late. What has happened to me in recent years, I don't know. I used to be very self-confident, but not so much anymore. Between the 10 lbs. I've gained the past year and the reality that I have to rely on talent to succeed is overwhelming.

On the plus side, the website is doing well and this makes me real proud. I finalized my PR contact list and lined up 10+ interviews with a range of actresses, models, porn stars, and reality TV skanks. It's pretty exciting and I cannot wait to really get the ball rolling.

Amazingly enough I've actually been going out lately. After falling into a relatively deep depression towards the end of 2007/beginning of 2008 I've come to the obvious conclusion that working in my apartment all day and never ever leaving is probably not good for my mental and emotional health. And while I continue to miss my out-of-state girls terribly, I've been really fortunate to make some wonderful new girlfriends over the past year.

And of course, there's always my fabulous boyfriend, who stands by me always. Literally. Staying up with me 'til the wee hours of the morning if I'm working or restless just so I won't be alone. He is truly the perfect man and I couldn't ask for anything more.

Things have been pretty good lately. My older brother, who I hadn't spoken to in over a year after we had a huge blowout, has made an effort to mend our now fragile relationship. He was a huge influence on me growing up and it saddens me to see what's become of our friendship. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him.

My sonogram came back alright, my doctor said. Now it's just a matter of getting this portable EKG thing over with so I can find out whether or not I actually have vasovagal syncope. As soon as all that's finally done with I can get back to going to the gym and working on getting back into shape. A size 3 two years ago, I have no gone up to a size 7 (maybe even a 9, ah!) and have had to buy all new jeans because none of my old ones fit. Boo.

It's been a while since I've hosted a Game Night and I think I might have to arrange one for the following weekend. Nothing like playing board games, drinking beer with close friends and just talking and having fun. Secretly I think it's all a ploy for me to unveil this new crab dip recipe I have fallen in love with. Either way it should be fun and I'm pretty excited!

Current Faves:

"Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea"
Devendra Banhart
Complex Magazine
Root Beer Soda
Not being stoned 24/7
Snuggling with Kayla
Watching Sex Talk with Sue Johansson on YouTube
Third by Portishead
Recording my 20s via blog
clean sheets

Eyelids are finally heavy.

I had a sonogram done today... OF MY HEART!!

2008-05-20T14:05:00.001-04:00

Don't worry, no baby growing in me. Check back in 10-15 years!

But seriously, I've become more absorbed with my health lately. I've always tried to be healthy, but lately it's become increasingly harder to do.

Every time I try and exercise I feel like I'm about to pass out, which is exactly what used to happen to me when I ran track in high school. They'd find me passed out in the bathroom, my head resting on the dirty toilet (ew!).

Lately when I try and do any type of exercise, whether it be joggin, running, yoga, or kickboxing, I feel myself on the brink of passing out again. My vision gets black around the edges, a wave of nausea rushes over me, and I become very weak and pale.

Sometime this month I decided it was time I figure out what the hell is wrong with me, because I keep gaining weight and I need to exercise, plus I just really miss being in shape (regardless of looks).

After having paid the doctor a visit, she told me I more than likely have vasovagal syncope (i.e., fainting). Essentially during times of high stress my body shuts down normally because of a low blood volume which traditionally happens due to having a low sodium diet. My body doesn't retain the water and I am abnormally dehydrated. She said it can be treated, but something as simple as my adding salt to my diet can prevent my body from going into shock. (I don't eat much salt, so it kinda makes sense to me.)

Today I went back for a follow-up where they did a sonogram of my heart. It's ridiculous to think how much fun I have going to the doctor. I suppose it's because nothing is really really wrong with me. Otherwise, I'm pretty certain I'd be singing a different tune.

The sonogram was crazy! I felt like I should be seeing little toes and fingers, but instead I saw my valves pumping blood which looked like tiny hands clapping a concert. When the chick (who turned out is friends with my roommate -- Small world!) turned on the volume it sounded like a washing machine turned on. Swish, swish! Tamara told me it was the sound of my blood being pumped through my valves.

After removing the sonogram gunk off my breasts (Nakedness? Wee!), I got dressed and headed over to the 4th floor where I became the Bionic Rican. Not literally, of course, but pretty much.

They strapped this portable EKG machine to my chest which I am supposed to wear sexily for the next 48 hours. In the meantime I was instructed to go running and do exercise and keep a diary of when I feel like I'm about to pass out. Again, I find this pretty cool, the exception being that I cannot take off the heart monitor thingies, which means I can't shower after I go for a run. How skanky is that?!

I also had a physical done a few weeks back and all is well except for my HDL cholesterol (i.e., good cholesterol) level. It's 35, but should be over 40 (whatever that means). As a result of which, my doctor said I have to work on getting that up because it puts me at a risk for heart disease. She recommended a glass of wine a day and to lose around 10 lbs, which I'd intended to do anyway.

Anyhoo, yeah, so that's pretty much it. I'll look like the Bionic Woman for the next two days and will probably stink worse than Paris Hilton's pussy. No, that's a gross exaggeration and we all know it. Nothing could smell worse than that cavity. I'm excited to know the final result and hope this is it for me. Otherwise I'll have to do the tilt-table test, where they essentially tilt me on a table until I pass out and they can confirm that I have vasovagal syncope. All i want is to be up and running again, literally. I really miss the gym, and being in shape, but it's no fun when every time I do something I either pass out or am about to.

Until next time, this is the Bionic Rican signing off.

Progress Report

2008-05-15T18:32:00.001-04:00

From high school to college, I repeatedly failed to turn in papers and projects fearing shame if I got less than an A. What can I say, I'm neurotic?

In the seven years I've lived in The States I have been offered opportunity after opportunity to gain experience in the writing end of the entertainment industry and have always bailed at the last minute.

Right before it's time to commit to a project I have found myself with a shaking, a migraine suddenly sweeping over me. Ultimately, I find a way to sabotage my advantageous situation.

This time, however, I'm actively pursuing what I want to do. That's not to say I wasn't being pro-active before, so much as there's more conviction in my step now.

Having finally realize that I have suffered from anxiety my entire life, I realized I would never follow through with my goals if I allow it to consume me. So I went to the doctor, got on medication, and feel a whole lot better.

Less going out, more writing, more working, more planning, more studying, more time spent determining what the hell I ultimately want to do when I grow up. I figured I got a 10-year window to make it happen. The dream, that is. Whatever dream that may be.

Which brings me to the heart of what I want to say. After putting together a PR list with 100 celebrity contacts, I was finally able to get two interviews. One tomorrow with busty pin-up model Denise Milani, and the other one at 6 p.m. today with Angelique Morgan, better known as 'Frenchie' on VH1's Rock of Love II with Bret Michaels.

There's no denying that Angelique is hot trash, but the truth is I'm all about hot trash. I suppose it's to keep from crying at the reality that this is their lives. People like Angelique, all the people who participate in these reality shows, they are the same personalities they create on screen. But to them it's just another crazy fun-filled day. Can you effing imagine?

I stayed up all night fight the urge to cancel the interview and bypass the opportunity to fail at even the least stressful of interviews. It had been around six months since I'd had any Red Bull and this morning I found myself guzzling down four of them from 2 a.m. to 11 a.m.

In the end, I made it. I did my research for my interview and drafted up the questions and all was set to go. Five minutes past six, I finally phoned her publicist. One returned phone call later, Anthony explained to me "off the record" that Angelique was in a police station filing a restraining order against some guy at some club from the night before.

The interview is now being rescheduled for next week, which is cool and all, but I gotta say for a minute there I was kinda broken hearted and proud simultaneously. Murphy's Law might have taken place, but I managed to not back down. And for as small a feat as it may sound, it's actually quite telling of my current emotional state of happiness.

Internet Time Capsule

2008-05-15T02:00:00.000-04:00

I always mean to keep up a blog, but then never do. Thing is, I want to be able to relive every stage of my life in print when I'm old and gray.

There was five year span in which I managed to complete one notebook per year, documenting some of my many developmental stages growing up. They are just dripping to maximum capacity with my dribble.

But in recent years I have placed my efforts elsewhere and eventually forgot how wonderfully therapeutic it was for me.

Hopefully I won't get distracted this time around. Plus, I really want to post the millions of photos I take of the dishes I make.

So here is my first post ever showcasing any of my food: Stuffed pepper with pork and brown rice à lo Rican.