What I Learned In 2010

                                                        What I have learned in 2010




1. I get nothing done after 8:00 p.m. unless it involves beer
2. Homeless people and stray cats are exactly alike, if you give them a cigarette once they will always ask you for one
3. I don’t like homeless people
4. Not having the internet is a cheap excuse for going to the bar and spending too much money on booze
5. Downloading music illegally will resolve in your lap top getting AIDS
6. Having a land lady that is in her 80’s is great because you always get shortbread and decaf coffee when you pay your rent
7. I like the song ‘Almost Crimes’ better acoustic than I do the album version
8. Chris Farley actually did more than just yell out what he was saying
9. I still really like the color green after all these years
10. Having a baby is nothing like having a cat because you can’t change a babies name two weeks after birth
11. I spend way too much money renting sitcoms and way too much time watching them
12. Jason Schwartzman shows up in media when you least expect it
13. I still quote lines from “The Hangover”
14. I’m not racist, I thought I was because I know a black person who smells real bad and I don’t like bad smells so I associated his color with that, but after smelling other black people I have realized that it is just the one person that smells that way
15. If you compliment Taco Bell employee’s on their customer service you might get free cinnamon twists
16. Golden Harvest is the only place to go in Lansing for breakfast
17. I get so excited about the Beastie Boys that I run into walls
18. Hiring people at a coffee shop that wear glasses usually works out well
19. I need a new pair of glasses
20. You really only do need five hours of sleep to stay alive the next day
21. Getting business cards really does make you feel better about yourself
22. I will never cut my hair short again
23. Notorious B.I.G was really the greatest rapper to ever live
24. I discovered a way to make old newspaper into art
25. Having a Facebook account is almost as bad as having a cocaine addiction
26. Power chugging PBR is a good way to power through being tired
27. LaToya is really good at making vegan cupcakes
28. I am only stuck on myself because I am not stuck on someone else
29. I will never home school my unborn child
30. The only things I crave when I am hung over is Earth and Jar and fountain soda
31. I still can’t spell the word ‘definitely’ without using spell check or T9
32. I can go a week without having a cell phone
33. I will never drink Whiskey again
34. Mates of State make any Sunday morning better
35. I secretly wish I worked at a Laundromat so that I could wear sweatpants every day to work
36. Going to the hospital without insurance is a close second to getting raped in the ass
37. Waffle fries taste better with vegan queso dip
38. Having a small bathroom is nice when you need to pee and wash your hands at the same time
39. Applebees has karaoke on Wednesday nights
40. I love living with gay men
41. I have the power to walk away from someone if they are boring me with what they’re saying
42. If alcohol is left at my house I will drink it
43. My cats are happy playing with wine corks and lighters
44. Brown rice is only good if it’s cooked thoroughly
45. You can get a ticket if you spend “too much” time in the left hand lane on the interstate
46. I still love to see people slip and fall
47. Smoking pot ends up in me falling asleep with potato chips in my mouth and dumpster mouth in the morning
48. I only like men if they’re at least five years older than me
49. Comic Sans font is only appropriate if used in 1996 while IMing and internet boyfriend that lives in New York
50. I’m fucking awesome

Do not read if you have children, values, or love Mariah Carey

        Alright Bitches, let’s talk about Christmas. What I really want to know is what sort of gifts were being be given around Bethlehem on the 25th?? Last time I checked Jesus was getting Mirth and Frankincense. Not digital cameras and Mad Men season two on DVD. I want to zap back to the good ol’ days of BC and give people cigarette ashes and say that they are getting long fancy words like youngjuvelicious and everyone will think I am giving them something real great and spectacular.


         Seriously, my apartment looks like Santa’s retarded workshop. I have an absolute love/hate relationship with Christmas. I love it because, duh, I get presents like Mad Men season two on DVD. ALSO, I can blame my alcohol addiction on the Holidays. God bless spirits. I hate it because due to my alcohol addiction I have to use my artistic ability to make everyone I love homemade presents. I know what you’re thinking, “Chelsea, nobody wants a macaroni ornament.” Duh, I know that. If there is was one thing you should know by now that is that I am the shit and I give awesome homemade presents. ANYWAY, back to what else I hate about Christmas.. The fucking music. I turned Christmas music on at the coffee shop the first week of December and at first, I was a bit fuzzy inside. There is nothing like the beginning of the season when you hear, “All I Want for Christmas” by Mariah Carey. Come the eighteenth time you wish that the fat bitch would choke on a ham sandwich Mama Cass style. Which by the way I am still not convinced that was really what happened to her, but that’s a story for a different time. We have all seen Love Actually, we all know how it ends up, so suck it Mariah.

           Speaking of Christmas and the birth of Jesus, let’s talk about the birth of my child that hasn’t happened… But, could have.

             Since I was fourteen I have been getting my period and it has always been on time right down to the time. The eve before Thanksgiving eve I hooked up with a guy and from what I remember it was stellar. Last week I was supposed to get my period on Wednesday. Come Friday, still no dice. This is when I began to panic a little. This is also when I am grateful that I have the world’s greatest friends. I called Joe Joe and told him about my predicament and he immediately made me feel better by saying that he would put my abortion on his credit card so that he could get reward points. By this point I am sure you all know that I ended up getting my period and that I am going to burn in Hell. Well, that may be so, but I can live with that. Just like I can live with the fact I won’t be getting a child I don’t want this year for Christmas.

Audrey's Back Bitches!

Okay bitches, I know it's been a while and I can spend the rest of this post explaining why I have been absent but I am not going to because just like doing my laundry, I don't feel like it. I would rather just spray it with febreeze and pretend it never happened. So instead I am going to start this with telling you what I hate most right now and why. I am going to make a list and label it "Things I Hate Right Now and Why". I fucking love lists. I also have just recently re-opened my love for Garbage. The band, not trash you perves. But, this is not the time for things I love.. That is in another segment I like to call, "Tequila".




Things I Hate Right Now



- Fucking Snow-- Cute, comfortable boots are incredibly hard to find ever since Captain Retard Ugg introduced the ugliest footwear ever.. This has caused me to only buy boots with a kitten heel.. A kitten heel is the nugget child of a real heel.. Not enough to make you look like an Amazon but just enough to cause a deathly slip on ice and make the clacking noise on hardwood floors. I fucking love that noise. But again, this is not the time for things I love.


-Nylons-- Nylons are SHIT. They don't even compare to the durable stretchiness of tights. Every pair of Nylons I have put on in the past month have snagged a huge whole right in the crotch do to my winter toenails. *Memo to self.. fucking peticure.


-Mittens-- These fuzzy wool hand protectors look all fine and cozy on the inside but if you are a cigarette smoker they are the worst things ever invented. I would rather have cold, chapped Betty White hands than catch on fire while lighting a cigarette.



-Cardboard-- This one should be self explanitory.. And for all you dummies, I have two words for you... Cardboard papercuts. Actually, is papercut one or two words? Whatevs.


-Cat Hair-- Though my nuggets are the cutest of the cute even if Borris is Satan and Viktor is a slut I still love them.. What I hate is that they shed all over my entire wardrobe of black. Two things you should know.. 1. I got Borris a boyfriend, Viktor.. 2. About two years ago I only started to buy black clothing.. you never know when a funeral is on the verge and there is never a wrong time to run into a room and say, "Audrey's Back!"


-Jameson-- This one is big. Whiskey is the Devils juice. If you want to wake up with a random man in your bed, a headache and a gold chain on your nighstand then by all means knock yourself out but from now on I will leave the Whiskey to the man in the bar reading David Lynch.


-Facebook-- I have a never ending feeling of love/hate with Facebook. I love it becase it destracts me from actually working at my job but I hate it because I hate status updates. Nobody cares about your kids or your husband or your dog.. I promise. ALSO-- Right now on Facebook "everyone" is changing their profile picture to their favorite childhood cartoon to stop child abuse or raise awareness for child abuse. Just so everyone know's.. A sixteen year old girl was bored at home one night and thought about her favorite childhood cartoon, "Catdog". She wanted to make this her profile picture but didn't want to look stupid, so she sent out a status saying that by showing everyone else what stupid show you liked growing up people would stop hitting their children. I don't give into any of this bullshit. If I want to raise awareness I will do by spitting and swearing at the assholes that hit their kids.. OR by calling child protective services.



This concludes my list of things I hate right now. I am going to sign off by saying this.. I just had business cards made and that pretty much means that I am better than you.

Pete and Pete... A Fallen Tale

Guess who is at home AND on the internet!??!!?


MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!


Just kidding. I really do not know why I said that because it's more of a cruel joke on me and not you guys. Everyone who is reading this is probably at home, on the internet, in bed, having grapes fed to them.

What a perfect reminder. -buy grapes at store-

Any fucking way--- Let's talk about Danny Tamberelli and Mike Maronna. Two of the biggest Nickelodeon stars in the 90's. I'm not sure if you have ever heard of a little fucking show called, "Pete and Pete", but it was a pretty big deal. Steve Buscemi played the neighbor for Petes sake. Haha, see what I did there? Petes sake. Anyway, last night before I went to bed I started getting all of the "retard thoughts" that I usually get before I drift off and one of them was more so a question.. "What the fuck are Danny Tamberelli and Mike Maronna doing with their lives these days?" I often wonder the same question about all the fallen 90's sitcom TV brothers.. Like, those two adorable twins from 'Full House'. And, I'm not talking about Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, we all know that they're paaaaaaaiiiiid. I am talking about Nicky and Alex... Remember them? Or what about those two kids from the show, 'My Brother and Me'.. Remember them? So, last night while in fake retard land I decided that I would do all of this research to find out where these poor sapps are now, what they're doing with their life and write about it. But, now that I am in real life all of that seems like way too much work, I'm not employed by VH1 or E and I really need to start working on my Christmas list because someone asked me a few days ago what I wanted for Christmas and I told them Coffee Filters. What the fuck?

I am sorry if this post doesn't make much sense and is poorly written but I don't actually know when my posts do make much sense and are well written.. So, I take that sorry back and will now put it in my back pocket for when I accidentally run over a child on my bike.

40 things I would do if I had the Internet

40 things that I would do if I had the Motha Fuckin' Internet

1. Post my blogs more regularly
2. Check my emails more often because unlike everyone else who has a fancy phone, I do not
3. Update and manage the social networking I do for work and my own personal life
4. Check out Craigslist for free/cheap things
5. Wiki different instruments people are selling on Craigslist
4. Buy used instruments off Craigslist
5. Use YouTube to learn how to play my new instruments
6. Start a band
7. Buy a webcam
8. Just kidding, buy a new computer with a camera in it
9. Just kidding again, buy a webcam because I am poor
10.Start a Skype account
11.Start using Chat Roulette
12.Make sweet videos and put them on YouTube
13.Work out more because I will be a YouTube star
14.Join a yoga class
15.Quit smoking cigarettes
16.Not go into work as often as I do to use free wi-fi
17.Paint my nails
18.Remove my nail polish because I don't have a Gypsy Prince with the body of a Greek God to do my dishes
19.Talk to my family more
20.Set up an Etsy account
21.Buy a sewing machine off Craigslist
22.YouTube how to sew
23.Make things and sell them on Etsy and at work
24.Start making all of my own outfits just like Romy and Michelle
25.Call my grandma more often
26.Make a sweet web page for the band
25.Set up an EBay account
26.Buy old shit that looks like it could be worth a lot of money
25.Go on the Antique Roadshow
26.Ramble to the auctioneer about my bands struggle to make it big, my YouTube stardom, our bands web page address

and my email
27.Find out that what I was selling was worth a lot of money and that my tape will be played on air
28.Get discovered by a head boss that runs some big Media Company in New York City who likes to get wasted and watch the Antique Roadshow
29.Move to New York City
30.Become a huge success by starting THE BEST SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE IN THE WORLD
31.Tour with my band world wide
32.Open my own Coffee Shop/Boutique
33.Start my own clothing line
34.Go clubbin' with Beyonce
35.Pay my rent at my sweet loft twelve months in advance
36.Marry a hot professor that teaches at Columbia
37.Have lots of babies
38.Adopt a few babies
39.Buy a basketball team
40.MOVE TO SINGAPORE

Do you see?!? I neeeeeeeeed the Motha Fuckin' Internet!

"The Plan" -- Also- I had a really good picture for this but Blogger wouldn't let me update it and that is stupid.

Let's take a second to talk about, "The Plan". You know the plan. Even the fatty that looks like John Goodman in the back with the plaid shirt on knows what the plan is. (side note, I don't know why but I always want to spell 'knows' like 'noes'.. probably because it rhymes with 'toes') ANYWAY, back to the motha fuckin' plan. Until just recently, between my sub conscious and my evil twin sister, Nelsea, I had thought my plan had completely derailed. That was until I realized that I am going to be different. I am starting, The Motha Fuckin' Awesome Chelsea Plan.
No worries, this is not an attempt to take over the world Pinky and The Brain style, this is just an easy way to say that you don't have to get your college degree at the age of twenty-two and you can still be the fucking bomb.

College is all fine and well and I will eventualllllllyyyyyy get a degree someday in something that will probably have nothing to do with the killer coffee shop I am going to open. But, college isn't everything. Sure, it is a great way to meet super hot professors, drink free beer, and learn about chlorophyll. But, does college teach you to remember to feed your cat? Will it teach you to protect yourself if you're getting mugged on the street? ALSO- I have yet to see a college diploma take the trash out. I live in a college town. Every thug and betty has their degree. A degree + no experience = a Sad Betty.

There are no Sad Betty's on The Motha Fuckin' Awesome Chelsea Plan. I actually did it right, bitches. When I am twenty-eight, have my degree, have experience, and still have killer legs I will be a Happy Betty and I will make it rain in the club every day.

So I guess what I am trying to say is make up your own mind, be your own person and always use protection.

Wow, that was somewhat inspiring. Fucking go me!

Disclaimer: The Arcade Fire is hands down one of the best bands, you must like this band to be on The Motha Fuckin' Awesome Chelsea Plan.

All My Single Ladies?

Is it sad that the longest relationship I've had is with the Norton Security software on my computer? We're in the middle of a break-up right now though. It has been going on for about three years now and the first year was great! He served his purpose of fulfilling what I needed from him and still gave me my space.. It was really nice. The second year wasn't as great, he started to question my commitment to him by asking me if this was legit like three times a week. But now, he has really fucking derailed. He is popping up all over the place, needy as hell,  whenever I am in the middle of something important.. "Renew?!?! Are you going to Renew me? Don't you love me anymore? Renew, Renew, Renew!" No, Fuck off. This relationship has expired just like the orange juice in my refrigerator. So, if anyone knows any other software that will protect me, I am on the market! -Insert single ladies chorus here-

Let's talk about that. My dating life. I average about three dates every two weeks and it seems like I keep going out with these pompous Betties. You know, the real pretty ones that almost look gay and claim they aren't because they play the guitar and have a beard and listen to underground hip-hop music, but only because of political reasons. Which makes no sense to me. At all. I would never think it would be that hard to find a straight man, that is a vegetarian who dresses like Mr. Rogers, who has a good job as a social worker or kindergarten teacher, that will do my dishes and not judge me for eating four buckets of popcorn at the movies. Something you must know about me.. we may have discussed this, but, I fucking love a good deal. If there are free refills on something I am so getting down with it. And, popcorn in my favorite food so suck it, really. ALSO- This perfect male must be smart enough to tell me not to give our children lighters and wine corks to play with like I do my cat.

Double also-- Remind me to please never be one of those people who say, "I don't need a boyfriend, I have my cat."

Triple also--tonight is my last night with Bernie Mac. I know you're probably thinking.. "Umm, Chelsea.. your last night with Bernie Mac was like three years ago." And, I meant the dog, dummies.

I met somebody once that actually would go home to watch Bernie Mac reruns on channel 5 at 7:00 and 7:30. This person never became my friend.

Notorious BIG and Moldy Bread

     Would you like to know what is even worse than when you go to make a sandwich and you realize that there is mold on the bread? Let me tell you.. Not having the motha fucking internet. I seriously open my lap top, (which is missing keys because Borris is trying to improve his typing skills using his razor claws.. Good for him though, forty-seven w.p.m is impressive for a cat) Turn on my ITunes, put on some motha fuckin' Missy Elliot and I click on the two double computers with a bold red X going through them that indicate that I do not have access to the best thing in the universe, in hopes that someone has moved in near by with an unsecured internet connection. Preferably an extreme hot gypsy king with the body of a Greek God. But guess what..?? That never fucking happens. So then I pick up my lap top, move to every location in my apartment, including closets, continue to click the double computers that are now laughing at me, and no fucking dice. So then I play solitaire.. for probably way longer than anyone should. I'm on the expert level now, sort of a big deal. Those dancing cards that appear when you defeat the game is a sweet reminder of success.

   Speaking of success, I have managed to keep more than four beverage choices in my fridge at any given time since I have moved into my apartment. Kool-aid? I got it. Coke Zero? Yeah, I got that too. And I ALWAYS have soy milk. Fucking crucial. Except when you come home from seriously gettin' yo drink on and wake up in the middle of the night, thirsty as shit, go to the fridge with retard crusty eyes, reach for whatever you grab first, chug it and then say, "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk... soy miiiilllllllkkkkkkkkkkk... Why couldn't I have grabbed the peach infused pomegranate juice!?!?!?" -insert sad face here-

Oh yeah, and by the way.. this picture that I drew has nothing to do with anything, really.. Except for the fact that I would buy a gold grill before I would buy braces.

PS. Will somebody please buy me one of those electric coffee mug thingies to keep my coffee warm so that when I walk away to make a moldy sandwich I don't come back and say, "fuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccck... cold cooooofffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeee." -one more sad face-

PPS. Please remind me to never again answer my phone at 4:00 in the morning when I see that it is Joe Joe, LaToya and Lazor calling from Vegas because more than likely it is just going to be them screaming things in  a different language. And that language is drunk retard screaming language.

You should ALWAYS tip your barista

So.. listen to this, bitches. The owner at the coffee shop I currently spend way too much of my life at just told me a day ago that he will now be getting halfsies on the tip share that comes in while he is there. Back in the good ol' days.. (yesterday) whomever worked with the owner, or from now on as we will call him, indian giving slut, wouldn't except tips and the baristas working would split them upon themselves. This was a huge boner for me

because the majority of my shifts consist of just him and myself. So, with that said, on a normal Wednesday morning I would work ten hours and walk with at least fifteen dollars.. but now, it will be 7.50. I am not sure if Indian Giving Slut is aware that I use that money for VERY important things... such as, feeding Satan, beer, cigarettes, envelopes, water bottles I use to squirt Satan, condoms, and most importantly... Beer.

So, when I am slaving away making the perfect latte, providing the MOST prestine customer service and attempting to be "nice" to bloodfart, Indian Giving slut will be in the back office on his computer googling different ways to improve his triatholon times and still collect my hard earned cash to buy new spandex and bibles. Does anyone else know how fucking hard it is to be nice to people? Is it just me? Does the cheese stand alone on this one? Ew, I can't believe I just compared myself to cheese. Memo to self, never do that again.. unless it's Munster.. that shit is actually pretty good. And, it makes me think of Eddie Munster. I wonder what he is up to these days and if he still has that wicked white stripe in his hair.

On another note, will someone please start paying me to make them speghetti or something? I really need to get the internet at my apartment. Bars that offer free wi-fi fucking rule but, this is probably why I can't afford internet in the first place.

I wish you could live in bars. Minus the whole not smoking thing. Oh yeah, and those "E-Cigarettes" are fucking bullshit.

It's Saturday, so peace out bitches.

Why Bernie Mac is staying at my house

Satan cat is going to eat my sisters dog. I know what you're thinking about this photo. But, fuck off. This is the best I can do being slightly hung over and still heavily sedated on pain killers. And, no. I am not a chronic pill head I actually have a legit prescription for them. I blew out my shoulder/neck on Sunday and had to go to the hospital and everything. Though the pain went away on Tuesday and it is now Saturday, I never feel the need to be wasteful.

Anyway, back to this piece of shit picture. I am dog sitting for the week for LaToya and Lazor when they waste their life savings in Vegas. They have a pug and it looks remarkably like Bernie Mac. He is actually pretty cute though, I only say that because I have a thing for big black men. Satan kitty wants to fuck his shit up though. I feel like I should be hosting some sort of dog/cat fight but last time I checked that is illegal and as a vegetarian I don't see how that would favor my whole love for animals thing.

Let's talk about something a little more important, my last twenty-four hours. If you judge me I will fucking derail on you. Just kidding. Sort of. I was quite productive and went to the laundromat which we discussed in my last post. I then rode my bike to Old Town Lansing in attempts to go to Bluesfest and then turned right back around because I realized I was way to drunk to be seen in public by people who probably weren't as shit wrecked as I was. So I went home and spent about fifty-seven minutes attempting to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I know, how hard is it to fry some fucking bread? The worst part is that I have a do it yourself grilled cheese maker. Which by the way, everyone should own. The only reason it took my this long was because I was also in the middle of a Gossip Girl marathon and I kept burning the shit.

I think I am the only one who spends a Friday night wasted watching Gossip Girl and burning grilled cheese. In my defense I was going to stumble to the bar but nobody would have talked to me even though I was looking quite fierce in my black sweatpants and Mickey Mouse sweatshirt that I cut the neck off of to make it look super cool and hipster. If I were to have a conversation with someone it would have probably ended up with me lieing about everything because that is what I do when I drink too much. I once told someone that I was tambourine player in an amazing folk band and we were about to tour the world with Mates of State.

Hands down, I am the BEST person to party with.

That is all, peace out bitches.

My love hate relationship with the laundromat

I usually spend my Fridays like anyone else would, doing laundry, going to the strip club, drinking coffee, taking shots of tequila, grocery shopping, going to the bank, having sex with black men, mowing my neighbors yard, playing Pictonary with my cat, doing crosswords at a burrito bar, pointing at the white trash people that live down the road and cleaning Satan's litter box.

But, I fucking hate the laundromat. If I made two hundred extra dollars a month I would pay someone to do my laundry for me. I would say fifty dollars but my shit stiiiiiinnnnnnnkkkkkkkks.

By the way, doesn't the sink I drew in this "cartoon" look like a face? I thought so too.

peace out bitches.

How to lose track of a decade

Listen bitches... I know you are all probably extremely upset for my lack of blogging lately, but seriously, I am fucking important. So we should start Here.

Okay, so, in the last three months this is what my life has entailed.. I got my own place, fucking score. I live there with my cat, Borris, who I am certain attempts to kill my while I sleep. He has a little bit of Satan in him and though I pretend it doesn't bother me because I am a big fan of Satan and all of his work, it sort of does.

Tito and Victor can both burn in hell. Actually, they can burn in heaven. I wouldn't want them anywhere near the master himself, Satan. I know what you're thinking.. "Chelsea, when did you get to be so into Satan?" And well, the truth is I have no fucking clue. Probably as of this morning when I woke up and Borris was laying on top of me with red devil eyes planning his attack. Anyway, back to Tito and Victor.. They live upstairs from me and refuse to reason with me on a simple bill that we share.. All of that shit is super boring to you. My revenge to them is that I put porn on 24/7 as loud as it goes on my tv. And, when I have sex in my house I am as loud as humanly possible even if the sex sucks. Sorry to the boys I have slept with in the past couple months but, it probably wasn't that great.

ALSO- I got promoted at my job at the coffee shop which is still a huge surprise to me because I come in slightly hung over every day and write my phone number on the cups to every man I find slightly attractive or at least the men I think would be good to bring home and sleep with. I have recently only started dating older men. I like this. If I had a therapist they would probably tell me it is because I have "Daddy Issues" but what the fuck does that mean really. I just want someone to take me to PF Changs. Shit.

I interviewed Adam Lambert and we talked for twenty minutes about the spot in his head that his stylist shaved off for him which really doesn't matter anymore because that was back in June and I am sure it has grown back now. Nobody will even know who Adam Lambert is in a few months from now.

My friend Gigi gave me this sweet vintage jacket that I was skeptical about at first but she was all, "Chels it looks fucking great on you." and I was all, "I don't know it has really big sleeves" and she was all "Whatever sleeves are in this year" So with that said, I guess sleeves are big this year. Literally.

 So Anyway,  I am still fucking fabulous and that is the most important thing, right?

Why I wish Dr. Dre was my dad

At one time or another I am sure all of us have wished that our parents were celebrities. My sister has always wished that Christopher Walkin was her dad. This girl I once met, who was in her early 20's once told me that she wanted Ashton Kutcher to be her dad. When I asked the girl why, she said, "because he's hotttt." Excuse me?? What do you mean, because he's hot?? Are you planning on fucking your dad, lady??

I want Dr. Dre to be my dad so bad you guys. I know most of you have forgotten about Dre.. But, I think he would really be the dream dad. I Can only imagine how sweet my life would be if Dr. Dre was my dad. I would have so much gold it would look like Lil' Wayne and Cleopatra threw up on me. I would probably walk everywhere I went just so I could blind people with my bling, but still, I would have an unnecessary amount of cars, or "whips" as my fake celebrity dad, Dr. Dre would say. I bet if he was my dad I would have an Uncle Cent an Uncle Dogg and an Uncle Eminem. Also, growing up I would never have been in trouble if, What would he say? "You're grounded for getting caught smoking cigarettes." "Excuse me?? Are you serious right now, dad???? You were in a gang.... You've shot people... You and Uncle Dogg smoke 10 blunts in our basement a day." My favorite part about my fake life where my Dr. Dre is my dad is the posse and the nicknames I would have.. Lil Dre, Chelsea Dre, Dr. Chelsea. Those names actually don't sound sweet at all. You know what does sound sweet though??





Hang gliding.

a little ramble and why you should never eat oreo's in public

Ok, we are going to start now. I don't have very much time. Actually, that's not true I have as much time as it took for me to figure out why Tito has DJ Sammy on his IPod..... 30 minutes. It would have been 20 but it took me an additional 10 to realize that DJ Sammy was not the same artist I was thinking of.

And now I have just wasted about 7 minutes. It would have been 5 but I spent 2 staring at the wall. Seriously, anyway, there is something I must tell everyone and that is that if you are eating an Oreo and somebody asks you a question, be prepared that when you open your mouth it is going to look like someone shit in it. This is not attractive.. and even though the person asking you the question knows you are eating the Oreo, they are still going to think you're weird because it's going to look like you have shit in your mouth. So, that is the tip of the day I guess. Oh yeah, and don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things. Ok, now that I have done my part in being a good citizen I can be free to go do all of the best things with my day.

LUDA, LUDA, LUDACRIS!!!! and my 20 minute conversation with victors mom.

I Woke-up, had coffee, talked to Joe Joe for an hour.

Joe Joe: My sassy, delicious, awesome, most fantastic, vegantastic, aspiring governor of New York, home owning, gardening, gentle, house building, super tall friend.

Blah, blah, blah.. Let's start here.

phone conversation

Me: Hey Carol
Carol (Victors mom): Hi sweetie! (*my name for all of my friends moms who can't remember my name)
Me: Carol, do you mind if I ask you a few questions for an article we are putting together for The City Pulse on the history of gay bars in Lansing?
Carol: Oh well, I don't know if I could be much use to you, I didn't go out much in the 60's.. I'll tell you what I didn't go out much when I was in my 60's, I mean when I lived in the 60's
Me: Whatever you can help me with is fine Carol, no worries either way.
Carol: Oh well ok, that sounds good.... Like I said though I wasn't really going out much in the 60's and 70's I had just graduated high school in 1967 and I'll tell you what I didn't go out very much. I was definitely not going to gay bars.
Me: Why not?
Carol: Oh that was all hush, hush.. I have only been to a gay club one time in my life when I was in Atlanta and I went with my sword swallowing friend who dressed in drag and did acrobats, oh sweetie, it was a great time.
Me: anytime you are with a sword swallower it's a good time.
courtesy awkward laugh
Me: Oh Carol.
Carol: Oh I just wish I could be more help but well, I just didn't go out to any gay clubs in the 60's or 70's. (*no, you are not fucked up, Carol has said the a few times.)
Me: Carol, may I ask, what did you do after high school if you weren't out partying and shakin' your thing?
Carol: Oh well, I got kicked out of my mama's house and then I got 2 jobs. I worked 2 jobs and then I got married. And then I divorced. And then I got married. And then I worked a few jobs. And then I got divorced. And then I had a kid. And then I got married. And then I sold knock off hand bags on the side of the road. Just kidding that never happened. And then I got divorced. And then I got another job. And then I got married.(*this is still going on) And then I had another kid. And then I got divorced. And then I had a boyfriend. And then I had menopause. And then I got 2 jobs. I didn't really have time to go out.
Me: Carol, you're life is so adventurous! I bet you have lived in a lot of different houses.
Carol: .... I was a gypsy in my past life...
super. awkward. pause.
Me: Okay well Carol, It was super great talking to you...
Carol: Oh yes dear, I am just so sorry I couldn't be more help to you. If I would have went out in the 60's and 70's I guess I would have more to say.
Me: That's ok.

After another 3 attempts to get her off the phone I finally just gave her back to Victor while she was in mid sentence...... Carol's a drinker.

Oh, let's see what else is exciting in my life. Oh yeah, I am interviewing Ludacris next month.

If you're jealous it's because you should be.

i would never take claim to being roseanne barr's fashion stylist in her 90's sitcom. no fucking way.

It is day 2 of Twatface's HIV and I am starting to feel like I am really neglecting her in this time of need. Instead of rushing in to get her fixed I continue to procrastinate and stare at her tucked behind the couch as I eat a cigarette. I mean freezer pop. Sorry. I was looking at a cigarette as I typed that. I also don't know why I am referring to my laptop as a female I don't even refer to Rupaul in such a way. Anyway, using Tito's computer has really got me to wondering what the definition of a computer is. I have always been under the assumption that a computer is a machine that you compute data to and it does what YOU the owner tells it to. This is not true. The definition of computer is: Computer- crazy, stressful, clusterfuck of aggravation. And this is where I start getting mad at myself for picking on a fucking computer. Seriously, there are so many other things going on that I can be doing or focusing on. I have always wanted to master different positions that may come in handy while playing Twister. Also, I have been meaning to make Louise (cat) a fort. I don't have to spend any of my time thinking of different ways to demolish any "computer". I just really need to deal with it and move on.

So, moving on. I am so stoked to start pimping out my 20SB Page. I am so fucking stoked on it you guys, and you should be to.

survey says: what a bust. but on a good note, i'm not bald.

We'll begin here. I don't know why but, about 87% of the time I write my title to my posts in all smaller case letters. I know the correct way to make a sentence and yet I still do it that way. Weird. Also, about 85% of the time I just want to be Lady Gaga. Anyway, seriously, what I am about to type has nothing to do with what I just wrote. Sorry.

There are two things that scare me more frequently then being bald and losing all of my teeth. Those things are:

1. Waking up and not having any coffee
2. My computer crashes before I finally get around to backing up a universe of everything that makes my life complete.

So, I have been using a computer for the majority of my life. You would think along the way someone would have told me that spyware software isn't a scam? Did anyone else know that your computer doesn't just automatically fix and rid any poisonous shit that it encounters on a day to day bases, unless you have a Mac. Somebody did once tell me that Apple computers are the Magic Johnson of computers. So, with that said I'll bring you up to speed. I wish I would have bought a Mac and my computer has a virus. I know you're probably thinking that I am freaking out over this and I am, but, I don't know how serious it is. I'm not a computer doctor so I think that it is best to try and stay calm until the real computer doctors figure it out. I am hopeful and you should all be too. We'll get through this. But, until I get twatface (the name of my computer) to the doctor I will be using Tito's Macintosh to write my posts and it is a dinosaur space machine, if that makes sense, so there will be no pictures on my blurbs. So, deal with it I guess.

Also, I haven't had any coffee yet and I have been up for 3 hours now. Fuck.

I am pretty sure someone just dumped their trash on me.

I am writing this post from my grave because I am pretty sure that I am dead. I am perma-hungover. I have complete dumpster mouth and I smell like vomit and trash. Do you remember in my last post when I said I was going to get super shitty? Ta da, the end result. What the fuck happened last night? Why is it when I am faded I turn into the most generous person in the United States of America? Seriously, why the fuck do I spend money on people I don't know? How did I lose my pack of cigarettes? Why did I steal the microphone from the karaoke set to say, "Someone here stole my cigarettes and I want them back."? Why didn't I get kicked out after that? How did I get back to my friends house? Why have I been starring at the wall for 20 minutes? Why am I not brushing my teeth? Seriously, fuck.

latoya.

There is something I feel you guys should know about me other than the fact that I just spelled 'know' 'no'.. I have an older sister. I don't talk about her much because, well, she's kind of a thug..... In a gang. Her name is LaToya and she's half black. Back in the 80's my mom went through a jungle fever faze and slept with a fellow Boogie Down Productions follower. 9 months later little LaToya was born. Growing up I always thought she was vicious, she used to pick on me so bad, I'm pretty sure it was because I am white and every now and again I would catch her in the bathroom putting baby powder all over here body to make herself appear white. As she got older she really grew into her blackness. In high school she started hanging out with the scary girls. Not the girls who thought they were scary because they had cornrows and talked loud. No, she hung out with the girls who rolled one pant leg up and wore bandannas. Our family started really worrying about her but when we tried to mention something about the way she acted she would threaten to kill us. She actually said, "Bitches better shut the fuck up yous asses will be getting capped up in hur, I fucking kill you." Excuse me Latoya? What does that even mean? Was that English?

Things have gotten a lot worse now. She has been in and out of jail on several different occasions for drugs, arson, and shooting someone in the face. They didn't die or anything though. We are all very scared for her.


Just. FUCKING. Kidding.

My older sister is a librarian in Canada. She lives there with her husband, Lazor. Also, her name is not LaToya, but that's what I am going to call her from here on out. Okay just so you are all caught up, let's recap.

LaToya- My older, white librarian sister, lives in Canada, her real name is -------, loves to eat bacon, just kidding, she's vegan.
Lazor- LaToya's husband, plays the keyboard, aspires to be a base jumper, and kills Nazis on a day to day bases.

Got it? Good, let's move on.

LaToya and I are really close. Though she lives in Canada we still keep it real via text, cell phone and IM. She's always like, "Hey I'm at some boring library convention thingy and I'm meeting all of these boring people blah, blah, blah, you're not listening, I know you're not, blah, blah, blah." And so I say, "Blah, blah, I just got my arms waxed, blah, blah." That's usually how it goes. But, she's the shit. Always. I feel like if anyone were to hurt her I would kill them. I would seriously fucking shoot them in the head. And, I'm at work right now, so I have to make a latte. Fuck.





I'm back, only to say that I am going to party my ass off this weekend. I can't believe how fucking shitty I am going to get. I am going to get so shitty. Shitty awesome.

wake up call

Dear Chelsea,

Get the fuck up. Put down your computer and do something. I miss you. I feel like we haven't been connecting lately and even your friends are saying you've been a wet blanket lately. Remember the good old days? When we used to stay up all night together ragin' and testing our limits. I miss the fun you. I know you can do it bitch. Just get the fuck up.

Love,

Your body

mexican madness

When put in an uncomfortable situation I have always been known for asking strange people questions that would offend someone even though I do it unintentionally. One of the first times Tito and I hung out we were asked to eat dinner at one of my many Mexican lovers house. The plan was to eat dinner at Chris's, get heavily sedated and then go bar hopping. Two of these things happened.

Chris made us an amazing veggie stir-fry followed by us getting completely blitzed. I wasn't living with Tito yet and it took us a good 3 hours before we could move off of the couch and find our way back to the house I was living in at the time. We composed ourselves after having a ridiculous conversation about foreign policies in China. Just. Fucking. Kidding. That conversation never took place.

We got back to my house and attempted to walk to a near by bar to have a night cap. We sat down in the coolest bar in Lansing, ordered our drinks and noticed my roommate at the time, no hair, walked in. No hair was in his lushfull drinking faze, and when I say that I mean alcoholic faze. He joined us and after a drink Tito and I were over the whole scene. We left no hair to go back to my house to make grilled cheese sandwiches.

After being at my house for about 15 minutes my other roommate, no hair's brother, walked in with a group of friends from work. Tito and I were still feeling sedated so we joined their conversation about a quest for winter boots. During our discussion of suede vs. fur in stumbled no hair with two new found friends, when I say two new found friends I mean two HUGE SCARY GHETTO new found friends. They made themselves comfortable in our living room and were persistent on knowing our names though they wouldn't tell us theirs. I asked to talk to no hair in the kitchen to ask him who the fuck these people were. Our conversation went like this..

Me: "Who the fuck are these people?"
No hair: "Oh, two guys I met in front of the liquor store."
Me: "Ummm, excuse me, is your brain leaking?!?! Why did you bring them here?!"
No hair: "They wanted to party."
Me: "Oh, well, that makes sense."

We went back into the living room, and feeling very uncomfortable I began to preach to one of the scary fury men about how it is so important to know what color to paint your babies room before they're born because it sets the mood on how the child grows.. like I am such the expert on child growth. I thought Maternal and Mattel were the same thing for the longest time.

The Wilder beast men kept telling Tito and I how they saw UFO's over 8th street and you could tell the questions I was asking was annoying them to a T. My roommate saw one of their hands starting to clinch so he asked them if they would be so kind to leave.

They weren't happy, but they ended up leaving. That was when I learned to shut my fucking mouth.

pac man, ghosts and taco bell

A few nights ago as I was watching Roseanne and playing pac man on my laptop I glimpsed over at my open window and zoned out for a few minutes as I reminisced about movies I liked as a child which led me to think of Casper. This led me to texting Tito who was downstairs in the living room. The text conversation went something like this..

Me: "I swear to God if our house was ever infested with ghosts I would spend every spare minute of my life leaning how to asphyxiate the dead to protect you, Victor, Starbuck, Chuy, Baby, Louise, Sneezy, Grumpy and Moe."

Tito: "Oh My, how do you plan to do this?"

Me: "Well, I feel like rookies always make the common mistake of trying to illuminate the already dead by using an average Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner.. I would go about this much differently, I would use an industrial vacuum cleaner, like a Kirby or something, and really utilize the tools that come with it to suck the little fuckers up and then I would take the vacuum into the woods and light it on fire. You really have to cover all of your steps when it comes to that shit."

Tito: "Well, it sounds like you have everything covered.. by the way, what are you doing upstairs? Do you want to come downstairs and hang out?"

Me: "Maybe in a little while I am really busy right now googling the most affective ways to shave your legs."

Tito: "Ahhh, I see how that could be important, I have to say I am surprised that in the 10 years you have been shaving your legs you still don't have it down to a science."

Me: "4 years Tito"

Tito: "oh my goodness girl, are you serious?"

Me: "No, I'm just fucking with you, do you want to get some Taco Bell or something?"

Tito: "Yeah, I could go for a run to the border."

Me: "Awesome, maybe tonight will be the night I switch my order up, probably not though."

Tito: "You only live once, meet me on the stairs?"

Me: "Deal."

microwavable forks

Supposedly you are not supposed to put forks in a microwave. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I thoughtlessly put a fork in the microwave, walked away and thought about the leftover cuisine I was about to take in. I was interrupted during my daydream by Tito shouting, "Chelsea! What are you thinking?!?" I looked at him confused and replied, "What?"
"You can't put metal in the microwave, are you nuts?!" He said.
"I guess I just never really thought about it." I replied back.

And then we stood there and stared at each other for 4 minutes.

Just kidding.

I'm really happy that I have Tito and Victor around the house to teach me all of the most important things anyone would ever have to know. They are always encouraging me to learn special skills so that if the world ends we will be prepared and they always have the best advice to give. A few days ago I was struggling to open a jar of pickles and Victor said, "You can do it, I believe in you."

I can't help but to wonder what our lives would be life if we were in a sitcom.

hold the mayo!

Growing up I always wanted to be just like Patty Mayonnaise. Thinking about it now, I don't think I would really care for being a cartoon.

failed attempt

Tito and I have started boot camp, so, if you don't recognize us in 3 months it's probably because we're going to look like this.

just wait until your father gets home

Nobody ever remembers this cartoon, but, it does exist! What a great show.

Memory Lane

My friend Jenny came to visit me a few days ago with her boyfriend Steve. I have been friends with Jenny since kindergarten so she knows all of the embarrassing shit that has happened to me over the years that I wouldn't mind forgetting. I have always been known for being pretty outrageous and having the energy of a ferret and when Jenny ever meets new people that I introduce her to she loves to tell them stories about our childhood.

They had came into town for Steve's birthday so I had arranged for us to go to a pre-thirsty Thursday baseball game drinking party. We got to the party and there was a lot of people there from my work, some randoms and of course the group of 19 year old drunk sluts you see at every party. We spent most of our time there drinking and sharing stories about the people at work we hate and the difference between the Gremlin movies, I had to tell a couple people to step back when they started hating on Applebees, seeing as it is one of my favorite restaurants, but, other than that it was a real stellar time. My friends house the shin dig was at is real close to the stadium of the baseball game so we walked there and on the way Jenny thought it was an appropriate time to pull out a story from the archives. She told my friends about how when I was a senior in high school I failed Choir and got kicked out of the class for performing 'Bah Bah Black Sheep' in front of the class for my exam instead of the required piece from the ballet, 'Carmen'.

I am fairly certain my friends are now very sure that I am a terrible person after hearing the stories that were told throughout the evening. It was all in good fun though and 2 dollar beers is a really good deal. Throughout the game after my 7th beer a fight was about to break out in front of us amongst some douchebags who were arguing about the better baseball team. Like anyone really cares about the Lugnuts or the Sharks, everyone knows the real reason to go to baseball games is beer and tight pants. The fight was unfortunately broken up by a butch security guard and as the Lugnuts fan was walking away in frustration my friend looked at him and said, "Go Sharks!" This really pissed him off, he attempted to spit at us but really just ended up drooling on him self. As he was walking away up towards the bathrooms I decided to follow him and get right behind him, tickle his butthole with my fingers and told him not to pretend like he didn't like it. He called me a fucking bitch and I went to the bathroom. Like I've said before, I am not one to suffer any consequences for my actions.

The game was fun, the night was fun, and I have no idea who the girl is in the picture I posted in this blog post.

In Regards to Oh Mother.

To clear up any confusion there may be, I love my mom more than anyone else in this universe. She supports me more than anyone and has a great sense of humor. My mother is the strongest person I know and I wish we could spend more time braiding each others hair. I wish I had long hair to braid.

On another note, since Heidi Montag cyborg surgery does this ensure that her and Spencer will not be having kids? If so, thank-god.

Oh Mother.

Everything my sisters and I learned growing up, we learned from Danny Tanner and Mr. Belding. My mom was never very hands on with us, except when we needed to be changed, fed, or bathed but that all came to a stop when I turned 10. She always just let us do our own thing and trusted that we make the right decisions. Not growing up with a father made it really easy for my older sister to show her midriff when she got in to the Jr. high, she had the best 90's stomach, I was so jealous. This also made it really easy for me to get away with whatever I wanted.

So this shouldn't have been a surprise when I came home pregnant at 13.

Just kidding, at the age of 13 I probably couldn't have even paid an old perv from the up coming internet to have sex with me. I was really lucky to have lost all my baby fat and invest in contact lenses after graduating high school. Jr. High was the awful. I don't know one person to say that their best years were between the ages of 12-15.

Growing up my mom and I never had that great of a relationship, it wasn't until I moved out when she started inviting me to do things with her. This is all fine with me, who wants to go to the club with their mom at the age of 16 anyway? Her and I are very close now, we live far apart but we still keep in touch and she is always a great back-up drunk dial. She insists that I call her or my sisters before making a fool out of myself calling a guy I'm interested in.

If I could do it all over again, I wouldn't, my mom wasn't around to give me the advice I yearned for growing up but she is always available now to offer me some gems...

1. "Don't drink and drive, if you do, don't go to jail because I don't have the money to bail you out."
2. "Always use protection, I can't stand to think of being a grandmother."
3. "Do the right thing."

Happy early mothers day mom! Love you bitch.

A Slackers Fairytale

As I get closer to approaching the age 24 more and more often I get asked the question, "So, what do you want to do with your life?" What does this mean, really? I want to do a lot of things, I've always wanted to take up vegan baking and move to Germany to become a vegan baker, or there has always been my desire to become an airline pilot. I feel like going to school to get a degree in something like philosophy is not going to guarantee my happiness through life. Sure, it will make me look smarter than others, but that would all be bullshit seeing as I would probably spend most of my time in school cheating and taking Adderall. I have never been a big fan of wasting sanity either. I did go to school for a few years from when I was 18-22. That was a fucking joke really. I spent most of my time in the institution catching up on sleep I had missed the night before and getting on Facebook to blurb to my closest friends.

I really, really like money and spending it as freely as I wish it with little worry as possible. I am a big fan in not suffering any consequences for my actions, so I feel like taking out any more student loans is not a good idea. The government has this stupid rule where if you don't pay the money you borrowed back they will take it from you anyway. It's not like when you check out a movie from Blockbuster and you forget to return it, sure you may get a few phone calls from a 000-000-0000 number but in the end you're up one movie and after 6 months you're able to regain your membership.

I also hate wasting time, I live in a place called America where if you have a college degree, that's cool, but it doesn't guarantee success, a retirement plan, a bigger penis, or a perfect body. I feel like I am going to do just fine throughout my life so everyone who seems to be worried about where my life is going and what I am doing with it, don't be. I'm never going to work at McDonalds, I am never going to be Homeless, and I will NEVER have an STD.

Also, People who go away to college and stay in dorms have a better chance of getting athletes foot. And that is fucking gross.

Karaoke piss

I have to say I am very happy that I have not recently peed my pants in public. This is something that I became notorious for during the summer when I was 19. This was when I had realized how much I enjoyed drinking, and how cool it made me feel. I have always been a strong believer in asking myself two questions before deciding on any life choice, those being..

1. How is this going to effect my addiction to television
2. How popular will this make me

The funny thing is I have had to acquire my own taste for alcohol. I grew up in a very dry house, where an idea of a wild evening for my folks was cracking open a can of O'dools, or splashing .5 oz. of Frangelico into Eggnog around the holidays. At the tender age of 10 I already knew that my family was a snoozefest and if I wanted to make any excitement for my life I would have to do it myself.

Anyway, I was 19, my life was really on track, I was working at Starbucks and Applebees, living in Downtown Flint, trying not to get shot on my way to my doorstep. Most nights after closing down the restaurant a few of us would go out for a couple after work toddies. We use to love to go to this real trashy hole in the wall karaoke bar to sing to our favorite licks. I don't know what it is about taking shots of Jose Cuervo and singing to the sweet beats of Pat Benatar, that cause me to bust out an electric slide across the dance floor followed by me pissing my pants.
This is something I feel I struggle with and am very happy that it only happens to me now when I jump on trampolines or cough too hard.

Sometimes I wish I could teleport myself back to the age of 19 again. I would get involved in healthy living, working out, and doing things that would benefit my future.

That's a fucking lie, if I could kick it back to 2005 I would definitely utilize my time by perfecting my keg stand.

Typical evening on Beaujardin

I live with two gay men who are in a relationship. I have known them since September of this year and work with one of them. We will call them Tito and Victor. Tito is the one I work with,he is sassy delicious and one of my all time favorite people. Victor is his boyfriend and I think he is pretty funky fresh too. They always offer me the best advice and have the best ideas like trying to talk me into not going to work so I can stay home and watch TV with them, or when they encourage me to dress up as wizards or pop culture Icons. I feel like the three of us really have a perfect connection.

A few nights ago after heavily drinking I came home to have a taco bell picnic in my bed and go to sleep. After inhaling my 7 layer burrito with potatoes, fresco style, grilled with guacamole I decided to call Tito to recap my evening. Tito works third shift on the weekends driving around our townhouse community to put a stop to any ruckus that may be going on. He was on the force stopping crime in our community when I called him telling him how fucked up I was. I remember trying to tell him stories about the evening, about meeting some guy who looks like the lead singer from maroon 5 and about how I think I can change the world, usual nonsense I mumble after 14 shots. I don't remember how much sense I was actually making but I am sure it was comparable to a newborn monkey baby.

Tito is always really good about listening to me and encouraging me to do the best things when I'm drunk. During our telephone conversation he was telling me how now was the perfect time to attempt to crawl to my ceiling, he said that this is the best way to rid any possible demons I could have living in me. What a great idea I thought! I have always wanted to rid any possible demons I have in me. I waited the 20 minutes for him to get home to try this out. When I did it was not as successful as I had hoped.

A few minutes of laying there after my failed attempt Tito decided to put a wet wifebeater over my face while I slept so that If I had a panic attack in my sleep I would survive. This is something he had learned after watching a Lifetime movie where a mother did this to her son when he was having an asthma attack.

I woke up the next morning with a semi damp tink-top on my face, nacho cheese in my hair, and new bruises on my body. Typical evening on Beaujardin.

ATTN: Douchebags

Dear Jesse James and Justin Bobby,

I'm just dropping a line to request for you both to please stop wearing hooded sweatshirts underneath your overalls. Neither of these garments are attractive and pairing them together is what I call the definition of white trash. You both aren't important anyway. I'm not sure why any women would want to sleep with you. you're both fat, hairy and have gonorrhea, I'm sure. I hope you two are very thrilled to know where your lives are headed and that is maybe, if you're lucky, one season of 'Celebrity apprentice' and one season of 'I'm a celebrity, get me out of here.' This is where all C-List celebs go to die. Enjoy the next year of fame you have left, and please take my advice. If what I said was offensive, then good.. It was meant to be.

Yours Truly,

Chels

Parking lot diaries

And now for your entertainment, a blurb from the past...


I told Frank to step off his pedestal after he refused my malt liquor beverage while pre-drinking in a parking lot outside of a gay dance club we enjoy. Frank was drinking Bacardi Lemon and Pepsi out of an empty Taco Bell cup that had been left in his car for a few days. He had boycotted Taco Bell for a few weeks prior to just recently after they messed up his order, giving him beef instead of beans and causing him to make a scene inside the dining area which lead to him throwing his burrito at the moronic clerk.

Just kidding.

In the four years of our friendship, I have never witnessed Frank as shitfaced as he was. We had made plans to meet up with some friends and small dick, so we stumbled into the club, paid the cover, and went to the bar. At this point of the evening we were certainly tipsy, but not to the point of passing out and peeing on strangers. We had a seat and I started talking to Frank about my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Gauthier, then we took a shot of tequila, then I was talking to him about my shitty job, and we took two more shots, and by this point I was rambling on about my dad until I was rudely interrupted by noticing that Frank was no longer sitting there. I looked around and spotted him at the entrance meeting our friends, and small dick.

I hadn’t seen small dick in what seemed to be years, and it wasn’t until a few weeks ago when we reconnected through Facebook, that we decided to meet up. I gathered my cigarettes, cell, and clutch from the bar and model walked over to them. Without even saying hello to the others I walked right up to small dick and stuck my tongue down his throat. Nobody even seemed to notice. Frank bought everyone three rounds, and then we made our way to the dance floor, sort of. Small dick and I stopped outside for a cigarette. Nobody will ever know of what we talked about outside that night because I wasn’t speaking English. I got myself together, and we headed to the dance floor. We started grinding and dry humping, I was licking his face and all around his mouth until our friends came up to us and told us that Frank was missing. I knew what I had to do. I ran up to DJ, and had him paged over the intercom.
This is not the first time it’s happened. A few years ago Frank abandoned me while I was in the bathroom so that he could sneak off and get a blow job in some random guy’s car. The plan to have him paged did not work well then, and it wasn’t until after I put the request in that I remembered that. We exited the dance floor in hopes of finding Frank. As we were doing a half ass job of looking around, small dick noticed this shit faced fool rolling around on the floor. Security immediately ambushed him and escorted him out of the building. When they passed us on the way out, we could tell who the fool was…

It was this loser douche bag that Frank and I used to hang out with a year ago. Frank was in the bathroom puking his guts out. He did end up being escorted out of the bar that night and proceeded to stumble into the parking lot. That is when his body took an ultimate plunge on to my 130 lb. frame. This upset me. I don't remember if I was more upset about adding new drunken scars to my body or the fact that the next day I couldn't make myself purge to feel better because my knees hurt too much to straddle the toilet.

Frank ended up falling asleep in a random car, woke up, freaked out, jumped out of the car, set the alarm off, ran to Burger King, Peed in the parking lot, Used their telephone to call a cab, left his car in Lansing, paid one hundred and twenty dollars for the ride home, and then had his parents take him to work three hours later. I on the other hand slept in small dick’s guest bedroom at his mom’s house.

Blame it on cheap beer

I have a really hard time working 14 hours and then going to the bar and doing 5 shots of Jose Quirvo. Don't get me wrong, I will do it but sometimes it's a fairly difficult task.

A few nights ago my roommate, who has the social life of a 67 year old, came home heavily intoxicated after spending a long afternoon with my friend, the sauce. I had spent the day working and was too heavily sedated on my own life to play reverse roles for the evening but he has been there for me one too many times while I was in that state so I did my best to tend to him in a somewhat patient manner.

Epic fail.

I gave it my all and did my best, but, after hearing the same slurred story 3 different times and having chewed bits of peanut butter toast projected at my face I felt it was time to go to sleep. My roommate, the lush, was not very happy about the idea of me leaving him alone so once I had snuggled into bed he barged into my room, jumped in my bed, and shrieked in the voice of Satan, "You're a bad frrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeennnnnnnnddd!!!" He then proceeded to crawl out of my room.

I ended up having a dream about the movie 'The Grudge' that night, and my roommate doesn't remember a thing.

The monster mash

If I lived with Lady Gaga I feel like her and I could do the monster mash every Sunday after watching Spin City reruns and eating vegetable lasagna. I don't know how much Lady Gaga actually eats though, then again who eats to be skinny? Coming from an aspiring anorexic, I feel that nobody has ever gotten anywhere by eating a full meal.

That was all bull shit by the way, except the part about doing the monster mash.

Buzz is the word

I'm Chelsea. I am known for my long legs, my whimsical ways and the attractive men I date. I love finding good Indian food and drinking fountain Diet Coke when I'm hung over. I've created this blog to let people into my life of chaos and unusual circumstances I am constantly getting myself into. A lot of my writings are exaggerated for shock value, what's real and fake is for you the reader to determine. I'm a very real person with very real substance abuse problems just like any other single 23 year old. If it leads to telling an interesting tale then I usually say, fuck it, bring it on.. bitches. Just kidding, I never say 'bring it on' in real life.

On another note, I am very happy Paris Hilton has made it okay for everyone else to call your friends, co-workers, and random strangers bitches. I don't know what kind of world I would want to live in if this sort of thing wasn't acceptable. In the gospel according to Chelsea, Pop culture makes this world go round. If I can't keep up with the Kardashians at least 9 times a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, then I don't want to keep up with anything. Luckily the E station has made this very easy for me. Thank-you E for making it possible for me to see what local tanner Kim is getting skin cancer in, potential fist fights between Courtney and Scott, Chris Jenner's intolerable face.. It is all just such a dream come true.

I feel that Twitter and E should really team up and make the impossible possible. Celeb tweets can start appearing during reality programs. Tweeting is the future people. Everyone has something important to say, right? No. Everyone thinks they have something important to say. I shouldn't talk though, I just recently created a 'Buzz' account through my Gmail, which is practically the same as Twitter. I actually sort of like the idea of having followers, who doesn't though really.

I blog because I like to write. I tweet because I want to be like Jesus.