All Day I Dream About. . . ?

11 04 2012


*cough*. . .

Today’s white trash moment brought to you by Korn:

I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Perhaps it really does come down to hormones. Maybe my testosterone is through the roof. Maybe I should go see a doctor. But lately I’ve been approaching life in a very stereotypical “manly” sort of way. I have in fact been spending way too much time thinking about sex. Dating my way through Denver. Working at the sex toy store, wanting to just get off and go take a nap (though this rarely happens hence the white trash Korn moment).

I know I need a new hobby.

I just haven’t gotten around to figuring out what I want it to be.

And even hobbies seem like too much commitment.


Perhaps I just need to accept the fact that I’m in an in-between right now and not feel guilty about it. Just keep on fucking around for a couple more months until I feel better. More stable. Until I’ve sampled enough different things to know the true direction I want to head.

Or maybe there will never be a “true” direction and I just need to learn to accept that–perhaps it will take that much time to accept. And then I will know. What is knowing anyway?

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. (My phrase for the year.)

Does anyone?

(Also, white trash moments… Monday: Drank PBR under a bush.¬†Tuesday: bought a bunch of 30% easter candy and ate a F ton of it.)

(Good advice, though doesn’t really help me find a new hobby–unless I want to start doing crack or something.)

I Be a Dirrrty Skank?

5 04 2012

I’ve decided today that it is time for me to embrace my white trashiness. There is no denying it anymore. Yes, I’m aware, it’s always been here, sort of lurking around exposing itself at times in surprising places.

But earlier I was out and about and this woman kind of gave me the side eye like she wanted to fight (name the song) and I was like, why is this woman looking at me like that?

And I realized it’s because I’m dressed like a skank.

I don’t care.

Wearing minimal clothing when it’s hot out is sort of my thing… (and many other people’s too) but somehow it just comes off really trashy on me.

I’m poor. I grew up working class. I, at one point, was an expert at cooking hamburger helper, as an example.

I have a very open opinion about sexuality (like we should all do it and do more of it) that many people may find “immoral” even though it’s probably healthier.

I live on the fringes. I dumpster dive–for things and for food–when I get a chance.

And I am unpredictable. Which are all definitions of white trash.

I have to just come out and tell you all:

I don’t have very good taste. For example, there are clothes at the store I work that I would actually want to wear… in public.

I think for a part of my life I attempted to pretend I had good taste, by critiquing things like theater and music and art, but when it comes down to it I don’t know a Jackson Pollack from a 2nd graders abstract. I like Marilyn Manson. And Slipknot. And Heart. HEART!!!!

I like to sit outside on the porch and drink cheap beer and heckle people.

If I had a yard there would be broken down cars on it that I intended to fix whenever I learned how to fix cars.

I chew gum with my mouth open.

I wear bright colored eye shadow.

I think by just accepting this fact about myself it will open me up to better experiences and life choices. Maybe. Well, I won’t keep running from it anyway. I’ll be able to highlight the good parts of white trashiness–like its anti-authority mentality and its open sexuality–and use those elements to make the world a prettier place. Okay. Maybe not prettier, but more interesting anyway.