Winnie the Pooh hates me.

" It's more fun to talk to someone who doesn't use long, difficult words, but rather short, easy words like 'what about lunch?' " - Winnie the Pooh


I'd bet my vowels and croutons that Pooh Bear would prove to be the least invigorating lunch date. A worthless conversationalist, no doubt. Besides, who wants to share a meal with a scumbag who double dips his greedy hands in a honey jar anyway? Stupid bear. 

Three years overdue for retirment.

A skilled Art Director is able to graphically represent an elaborate concept with simple yet precise accuracy. Special thanks to the talented craftsman of my retirement concept. Indeed... well-executed. Although, it seems I've lost track of time - and my own priorities. I'm three years overdue for retirement.

dk

Member of the Month

I suppose, had I subscribed to a dating period greater than one month, I could have perhaps gained myself the additional [1] vote that would have advanced me... Member of the Month, so darn close!

Damn.

dk

Happy Birthday Song

I've never been a fan of a organized recreation. Further, I rebuke organized celebration.

I don't like structure. I don't like order. And, I certainly don't like people singing in unison. So, on my birthday, I tend to avoid friends - and family. And with utmost caution, I steer absolutely clear of chain establishments that might force employees to drop their silverware-napkin-wrapping in order to contribute their individual efforts to the greater sum; to collectively subject patrons to a high-pitched, corporate-established script sprinkled with pseudo-enthusiastic theatrics. No thanks. Besides, Lily Allen has already sung my song for the year.

Happy Birthday me.

Xo!
dk

As soon as things get difficult, I walk away.

" As soon as things get difficult, I walk away. That's the great secret of creativity. You treat ideas like cats: you make them follow you. If you try to approach a cat and pick it up, hell, it won't let you do it. You've got to say, 'Well, to hell with you.' And the cat says, 'Wait a minute. He's not behaving the way most humans do.' Then the cat follows you out of curiosity: 'Well, what's wrong with you that you don't love me?' "

Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

That quote considered, I suppose I live an extremely creative life. As soon as things get difficult, I walk away.

Walk. Away.

dk

I take my career as seriously as any raindeer.

Today at work...

A symbol of marriage.

and should I ever again decide to condemn myself to commitment...

the band that strangles my freedom (and my left ring finger),

must be appropriately designed.

a symbol of marriage.

http://mocoloco.com/galleries/gallery/lady-killer-vol-1-by-atelier-ted-noten-with-laikingland/

then again... maybe I should just buy it for myself.

it's fucking perfect.

dk

Apparently, August 7th is Friendship Day.

Happy demise-of-friendship-in-favor-of-sex day!

I'd drink to that.

Xo!
dk

[dih-key]

dk

–verb (used without object)
1. to become decomposed; rot: vegetation that was decaying.
2. to decline in excellence, prosperity, health, etc.; deteriorate.
3. Physics . (of a radioactive nucleus) to change spontaneously into one or more different nuclei in a process in which atomic particles, as alpha particles, are emitted from the nucleus, electrons are captured or lost, or fission takes place.

–verb (used with object)
4. to cause to decay or decompose; rot: The dampness of the climate decayed the books.

–noun
5. decomposition; rot: Decay made the wood unsuitable for use.
6. a gradual falling into an inferior condition; progressive decline: the decay of international relations; the decay of the Aztec civilizations.
7. decline in or loss of strength, health, intellect, etc.: His mental decay is distressing.
8. Also called disintegration, radioactive decay. Physics . a radioactive process in which a nucleus undergoes spontaneous transformation into one or more different nuclei and simultaneously emits radiation, loses electrons, or undergoes fission.
9. Aerospace . the progressive, accelerating reduction in orbital parameters, particularly apogee and perigee, of a spacecraft due to atmospheric drag.

Equality and Liberty, numbered but not named.

And, by nothing I tend to mean everything. That said,
It's not my place to criticize one for their hypocrisy.
As clearly I take pride in my own. Regularly.

How can the concept of "you" exist without the concept of "I?" And, if individuality were an ideal... Why then, would one submit to the desires of another? Walk their 'own' path dictated by steps that came before? And, with the ultimate ambition of reaching a destination that allows opportunity for verbalizing total submission? Don't ask me questions for which I can provide no answer. We don't understand. And by we, I clearly mean I. And by I, I clearly mean EGO. And by EGO, we clearly haven't a clue what we mean. This cute little book is more a sweet love story than it is a profound advocate of individuality. At least we think. And though I've never been a sucker for a love story, I'd recommend this read - if for no other reason than its brief format. And unique, though not breathtaking, style.

Enjoy.

Xo!
dk

Advice to Little Girls

"Good little girls always show marked deference for the aged. You ought never to 'sass' old people unless they 'sass' you first."

Mark Twain (Advice to Little Girls)
Illustrated by: Vladimir Radunsky
View the entire book, here.

Google search: hobbies

Those therapists (i.e. family & friends) who've encouraged me to set standards for my dating life are now insisting that I engage hobbies. Um? Duh! Frivolous dating IS a hobby! They disagree. Fine. I googled it: hobbies. And, still, I'm not interested! Look, I'm not freaking gardening. Or collecting stamps. Or coins. I'm not scrap booking. I'm not baton twirling. And not fucking trimming any bonsai bullshit.

My god life sans self-inflicted mental disorientation and unnecessary emotional anguish is so mundane.

Boring!
dk

In the hands of humans.

Chocolate won't change this. Sex won't relieve this. Cigarettes won't help - and whiskey only provides temporary relief. It is what it is. This is what happens when God grants free will. When He places life in the hands of heathens.

Silver fox.

Congratulations me!

Continuing celebrating celibacy.

But, now that I've extracted men from my equation...

I find myself at a loss for hobbies.

I'm not exactly satisfied with the subtraction.

This division's been difficult. But,

At least it's now certain, I won't multiply.

That's the only silver lining.

Although, easily, I'd trade the lining for a fox.

Meow,

dk

Brest Cancer

A.Muse

A coworker excitedly stated the obvious, "You have so many looks!!" To which I matter-of-factly stated the equally obvious, "And, just as many personalities." She wasn't amused; nor was I attempting a muse. It's much too early this Monday morning for such office pleasantries.

dk

Freedom

It's now days past the 4th of July.

If you've not yet found freedom. Really, try these:

http://dailydk.blogspot.com/2011/03/books-to-read.html

Xo!

dk

Everything about me is graph paper.

" Scared? YES! You're graph paper; I'm blank paper. But neither of us are simply ruled paper. Unruly. Endless possibilities. Ideas. Opportunities. Options. No. "

I found that scribbled in my sketch book. It's over a year old.

Forgot I wrote that. Forgot I even thought that. Forgot all about him.

It's funny when you recognize you think you're something you're not; when you realize you don't see the horizontal lines crossing the vertical to create perfect, uniform little boxes in which you will meticulously itemize every minute detail of every situation. Person. Place. Or thing. It's my world, after all. And I want - no, I need - all my nouns to remain perfectly placed within their designated square. Nothing about me is sketch paper.

Xo!

dk

Boring.

Music. Resonates with human emotions. Undeniably. We relate to certain songs. Lyrics dictate our emotions. When we can't. Or don't want to. Better than we can. Songs speak for us. Usually at a certain time in our lives. And then we move on. We have new emotions. And find new songs. New experiences.

This song I haven't moved on from. Not for four years. Everything is still so boring.



Bored, always.
dk

Blood and cookies.

I don't know what all the fuss is about.

Cookies?

It used to be that you'd have to lie on your back, inhale your fears and exhale the same. It used to be that you'd have to allow an absolute stranger to tease your veins until they were thrusting from your skin. It used to be that you'd allow a mysterious gloved hand foreplay with your forearm just before letting a stranger puncture your very own flesh. And often the surrender of self took place within the suffocating confines of a mobile, enclosed space. In a truck, you'd lie on your back and relinquish your DNA. That's how it used to be, anyway.

It used to be that you'd have to surrender blood in order to receive a free cookie. And, now, you just get online and cookies are dropped all over the place. For free! Truly, I don't know what all the fuss is about. Who doesn't like a free cookie?

And, I wonder, with me spending so much time online... where's my damn White Chocolate Macademia Nut?

Where, huh?

dk

Happy Fourth; Angry Fifth

Plenty of people enjoy the fourth with a fifth.
At least.

That said, my own personal public service announcement for the evening: please drink responsibly. And, have an Aspirin before bed.

Goodnight,
dk

Fireworks and cereal.

Snap Crackle & Pop are pouring the world’s largest bowl of cereal in the sky.
And, now I’m hungry for Rice Krispies Treats.

Happy freedom day, USA.

Xo!
dk

Freedom at last.

Happy 4th of July!

Now, single-file line everyone!
Tuesday, let's all march right back in to our cubicles.

Freedom at last!

Xo!
dk

Awake. Bored. Typical.

I woke up today. Which means (obviously): I'm bored.

Again.

dk

Tomato. Tomahto. And, sometimes ketchup.

Last week my friends challenged me with the following proposition:
talk to only one man at a time... AND, be genuine.

Fuck.

Alright. Fine.
I've accepted the challenge.

Just got off the phone with the ONE guy I've chosen to invest interest.

Essentially, he told me I have some sort of power struggle fixation - or something. Who knows. Compared me to Machiavelli, I think. I'm still not sure. In any regard, I took it as a compliment. Although I doubt the sentiment was posed as such. No matter.

The conversation started with him seeming calm and potentially interested - naturally, it ended with him absolutely confused. Baffled. Perplexed. Overall: exhausted. Yup, sounds about right. I was after all being 100% myself. And that, well that exhausts even me - god knows what it does to a grown ass man. He said he wasn't sure that I was what he was looking for, not right now. Makes sense. I respect that. And, I told him so. He said he needed time to let it all "marinate." And that I should allow the same.

Oh. Cute. Boy.
Never, never tell me what I should or shouldn't do. The word "should" is not one that carries a definition within the scope of my own personal vocabulary bank. Nope. The word is not one that registers within my skull.

My response, obviously: "you do what you do, and I'll do what I do."

He says he's calling me tomorrow.

I'm not surprised.
Nor would I be if he decided not to call at all.

Tomato. Tomahto.
And sometimes, ketchup.

dk

Red, white & blew my mind.

I like things that randomly confuse the preconceived notions instilled in our thought process – about what is or isn’t classic, for example.

That’s my random thought for you today, anyway.

And in the flavor of our upcoming holiday... I thought the red, white and blue in this image appropriately serve both my thought and the holiday.

Xo!
dk

Office Planks (and, no, that's not Asian for "office pranks")

Justice for all. Liberty remains undecided.

Contrary to common belief, as expressed by embossed lettering on the metal framing a license plate, Karma is not a bitch. She’s a very just woman. And I deserve every bit of justice she will condemn upon me.

Monumental orange hypocrisies

Suckle Advertising & Design employs monumental displays illustrating their message to residents of the Denver metro area. Those massive orange fire hydrants better somehow be recyclable - or, I'm calling bullshit on this entire series of monumental orange hypocrisies. http://www.sukle.com/

Homosexual? Fine. Heterosexual? Fine. Bisexual? Fine. BUT ASEXUAL???? Really???

Tonight I read an alarming statistic...

"It's estimated that 1.5 percent of the population are asexual."

WHAT?

Yeah.

What exactly does that mean?

"Those who describe themselves as asexual say that there is a distinction between celibacy, which is a choice, and asexuality, which is an asexual orientation. Many say that while they may want relationships and love, they don't feel desire and don't want sex."

What the fuck kind of twisted, masochistic bullshit is this????

The primary benefit of a relationship/love IS sex.

In fact, I don't even believe in love without sex.

Nonsense!

dk

Addicted to stimulus. And it's never enough.

Read a study about addictive personalities. Yup. Sounds about right.

These are qualities I'm attracted to in the opposite sex. And, all qualities that I value about myself.

• Impulsive behavior, difficulty in delaying gratification, an antisocial personality and a disposition toward sensation seeking.

• A high value on nonconformity combined with a weak commitment to the goals for achievement valued by the society.

• A sense of social alienation and a general tolerance for deviance.

• A sense of heightened stress.

Yup. Sounds about right. Now it all makes sense.

dk

Of course, that could just be PMS again.

Despite the fact that a language barrier hindered our already muffled communication, I liked him. He was intelligent. Artistic. Perceptive. And, kind. He understood me inherently. Without explanation, he understood my character.

Of course, that horrified me.

If I liked to live out in the open, why then would I spend so much time carefully placing each brick upon the other in order to fully barricade myself from the potential of emotional intrusion by blasphemous infiltrators (i.e. humans)? Well, I wouldn't.

So, I did what I normally do: this.

But, there's evidence that a hole has been drilled, a brick stolen, something is different this time. My wall is failing to do it's job. I feel badly. And he's not the only one. I felt bad for another one I text broke up with earlier this week too. There's something wrong with me lately. I think I have emotions this week. Of course, that could just be PMS again.

Goodnight,
dk

I want to color outside the lines, ALWAYS!

In line with the recurring recommendations from my therapists
(my therapists being most of my friends, my sister, my self-help books - and, one professional consultant, a therapist by trade, a Psychologist by title), I have - during the last several months - employed a more "productive" approach to life.

In the last several months, my life has attempted to walk a straight line. One hesitant step in front of the other (my neck aching from the backwards turn that seeks even just a glimpse of my more adventurous past). Baby steps. A path of stability. A grown-up life.
I'm gonna be mature, you see.

I got a job.
I stopped taking my morning tea with whiskey.
I smile. And, make small talk.
I sit in a cube.
I date men who call back.
I've replaced rendezvous in dark parking structures with wholesome dinner dates.
I sleep before 4am.
And wake to an alarm,
I got a job.

See... I told you.
I implemented goal-setting approach to life.
One that provides me an agenda - goals and objectives. Aspirations, if you will. But, I won't.

I must say...
I'M BORED THE FUCK OUT MY DAMN SKULL.

dk

**Right, ask an alcoholic to walk a straight line and spot him while he falls.
Fuck lines. I want to color outside them. Always.**

" U " and " i " are never going to work out. NEVER.

By 8:06am, my desktop illuminated my cube to remind me how much I loathe Mondays.

By 9:06am, my iPhone illuminated my cube to remind me how much I loathe men.

Not all men...
But, ABSOLUTELY, those who do not dignify my abundant generosity (providing them the series of digits that would allow them the pleasure of contacting me) by at least devoting the minuscule amount of time required to compose a coherent sentence - those who expect that I interpret a vowel as a word. I can't handle this kind of nonsense at 9am, and on a Monday?!

Good grief. And good night!

Xo!
dk

" Celibacy or Bust "

And if I were to marry the fat end of a Sharpie to the interior of a flattened cardboard box, if I were to create a protest poster for this strike I'm about to embark, it would read:

" Celibacy or Bust "

But, I won't.

Not because I don't enjoy the theatrical approach of creating overstated opinions - whether rurally announced upon what once was a box, or boorishly denounced from the stage of a soap box - certainly, I do. But, these words I will not combine to communicate my stance.

Mostly, well entirely, because I fear the implication. "Celibacy or Bust" might lead one's mind far, far astray. I am, I am certainly, as of today, as of right this moment, engaging a monk-like approach to the opposite gender - but I dare not insinuate a Priest-like approach to the same gender. I'm no longer in pursuit of what Adam gave Eve... neither am I in pursuit of the apples she provided him, from beneath her leaf brassiere.

On second thought, my poster, should I create one, will simply read:

" Celibacy. "

Triumphantly, I will cap the Sharpie. There.


And, with an ink-dipped needle point of a safety pin, I will provide honesty in the only place it is found; in the finest of fine print, I will scribble my one-word disclaimer, "lie."

Good. Good bye, Cupid.

Ok... this time, I'm serious. I'm kicking the online dating habit. For good.
For my own good.

Goodnight!
dk

No hang over gets in the way of my superficiality.

If I had the slightest clue what happened last night, trust me, I'd tell you. All I know is drinks were courtesy of, well, I'm not quite sure. And my car's lost someplace in Hollywood. Behind a doughnut shop, I think. But, it's a lovely Saturday morning so far, my nails are hot pink! I had an hour of illegitimate rest before I woke to paint my nails.

No hang over gets in the way of my superficiality.

Xo!
dk

Seduce me. Trick me. Tease me.

It's Tuesday.

And, I just realized I have a commitment this evening. I never make commitments. NEVER.

Fucking Persian. Somehow he's got me making (and here's the real shocker: keeping) commitments. I just now realized it's been two weeks since we went out and now I'm compromising, playing nice, relinquishing control. Yup. I lust him in a dangerous way.

Hypnotize me. Seduce me. Trick me. Tease me. In other words, play me.

An everlasting game. Please.

I love every minute of him.

Xo!

dk

Vogue Italia: Belle Vere

Oh, sure, sure... yes, yes... I know...
we can argue the objectification of women here.

Fine, I get it. I get that argument. I'm familiar with it.
Whatever.
At least now the objectification is not limited to size 00 models.

I'm a fan of this photography.
And of the female body in any size.

Relax your erection, boys... that wasn't my way of coming out of the closet to fulfill your twisted girl-on-girl glam fantasies. But I do certainly mean to convey my conviction that the female form is a beautiful, elegant, graceful luxury to be appreciated as art - in its every shape and size. I'm definitely a fan of Vogue's work here:



http://www.vogue.it/en/vogue-curvy/seen-in-vogue/2011/06/belle-vere

Pyro seeking Gyro

Look. I tried. Several times.
To date guys who aren't Middle Eastern.

But, it doesn't work.

And, I know I shouldn't go near them.
I know they're trouble, Middle Eastern men.

But, I can't help it.
I love playing with fire.

I'm the matchstick looking for a Middle Eastern man against which to strike - and ignite a flame that I can't tame. In that sense, I'm a pyromaniac of sorts. And, when I finally post an ad to Craig's List - in the sleezy personals section - searching for my perfect mate, it will read:

"Pyro seeking Gyro."

Let's do this.

Xo!
dk

I look great in leggings, you won't.

Newsflash: I'm 5'8" and a size 2.

So many women are trying to maneuver themselves in to slinky dresses, tight leggings, low rise denim... why? WHY? This is a phenomena I've never understood. So many girls want to quote raid my closet unquote - why? Most of these women would look like trash if they tried to wear my clothes. Listen, I'm not going to lie... that stuff - my stuff - all looks fucking fantastic... on ME!

But...
that's because I'm built for it.

Try putting me in something that showcases cleavage, not gonna happen. Never. I haven't the tits. Try putting me in any elegant, fitted skirt. Nope, not a chance. I haven't the hips. Try putting me in some sexy one-piece swimwear. Oh, that's a good one. Please, I dare you. Try putting me in a dress fitted at the waist. Waist? What waist??

I have no tits. No hips. No shape.

So, if you do...
LOVE THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR SHAPE!!!
And work it!

Fashion trends should not dictate your style; your shape should! So stop trying to wear leggings - or whatever the flavor of the season might be - just because retail window displays have decided to make them all the rage. Bullshit.

While I'm over here belting my midsection, to the point of suffocation, in a pathetic effort to conjure even the faintest suggestion of a waist distinct from my hips... you're hiding yours! DON'T!

While I'm over here spending upwards of $50 on a band of lace that supports two cups inflated by padding (be that regular padding, air pockets, water sacks or whatever the fuck the latest Victoria's Secret confidential may be) to lift, squeeze, plump and enhance my bustline... you're hiding yours! DON'T!!

While I'm over here wearing the tightest possible pants in a miserable attempt to highlight that there is indeed a small protrusion that distinguishes itself as my ass... you think yours is too big. Are you freaking kidding me?? STOP THAT!

And, stop wearing leggings.
Start wearing what's right for you!

Let's be serious for just one moment... it's obvious that, for the most part, I might just be posting this because I'm outlandishly selfish and loathe the notion of sharing my clothing - and, would love for people to STOP asking. Despite that selfish benefit... I want you to wear what looks great on you. And what makes you feel sexy - or comfortable or sporty or feminine or cute - or, whatever look you're going for. Just appreciate your you!

Because you're you is your perfect you.

Xo!
dk

"We help [plus-size women] dress fashionably. We say: It's pointless for you to buy leggings, take this because this will look good on you. We help them choose. We don't talk about diets because they don't want to be on a diet, but it's not a ghetto. Why should these women slim down? Many of the women who have a few extra kilos are especially beautiful and also more feminine."

-Franca Sozzani (Vogue Italia)

Women's Wear Daily's interview with Franca Sonzzani's

#usatodayhaiku

USA Today

Truly this is so absurd

And, fucking stupid

The Onion: Online Dating

As an expert in the field of online dating...
I'd say, yeah, they about nailed it.

('nailed it' - ha, I didn't even intend such perfect word choice - bonus!)

http://personals.theonion.com

Salute the [Surgeon] General.

Salute the [Surgeon] General.
But pay no mind to his warnings.

Xo!
dk

Looks like I'm in love again this week

After sending my friend an informative text about my night prior...

she provided this awakening response:

"I don't even have words. My favorite part is that you got your ass drunk on your date. So classy."

Hmm...

I didn't even think about that until she mentioned it. Ha. Likely, it's not the classiest thing - getting trashed on a first date. And, not only was it a first date, it was a first in-person encounter... as I did (of course) meet this dude online. Not the classiest thing nor was it the safest thing. Note to self: next time I meet a dude for the first time offline, dinner shouldn't consist of five glasses of wine followed by dessert. And by dessert I clearly mean a margarita.

Whatever, he told me I was pretty.

And, he's a great kisser.

Looks like I'm in love again this week.

Xo!

dk

See... that's what happens when you date Middle Eastern dudes! Sweet-talking sons of bitches! I love them ALL!! They're trouble. And I LIVE for trouble.

An everlasting game.

Fine. Wednesday. 7pm.

I went out on a dinner date. It was pleasant.

The man was intelligent, articulate, educated and responsible. He was at an ideal age (as defined by societal norms and expectations - not by my own twisted daddy issues). He gave me plenty of compliments. And, his attention remained undivided. He took pleasure in telling me that I'm "pretty" and expressed his appreciation that I'm "very smart" - and his favorite thing about me, I'm "so sweet" (these are of course his words, not mine*).

And, as any man should... he drove, he opened my car door, he put our name in at the restaurant, he treated the server graciously, he made certain that I was comfortable and all our accommodations/needs were met. Of course, he paid the bill. And, politely, he bid me a pleasant farewell - with the right combination of desire and respect.


That said...


After this pleasant night out with a generic, white male...
...I've restored my original policy of engaging racism when dating.

I'm officially back on my Middle Eastern men fix.
Normalcy, it's just... well, it's just so darn bland!

I want some fun.
Some excitement.
Some questionably healthy tension.
The occasional burst [er, outburst] of jealousy.
A theatrical display of ownership.
Rigorous emotional tug of war.
Some sexual innuendo.
Lots, actually.
A battle of wits.
A challenge.

Something to stimulate my curiosity.
Something to sustain my intrigue.

An everlasting game.

*It should be noted that I do not condone the usage of these words nor do I deem them appropriate when used in the referencing of my person.

Fine. Wednesday. 7pm.

Fine.
I agreed to a dinner date.
(One in which a time and a place was selected in advance.)

It kills me to relinquish control.

Sure, sure... I date. And quite frequently. But to formally set an actual day and a time. Oh for fuck's sake. What a burden that seems. I much prefer to abruptly phone any given plethora of someones at my leisure and have them treat me to whatever it is my heart desires on that particular day at that particular moment.

Fine. Wednesday. 7pm.
Let's see how this bullshit goes. Puke.
I'll report back on Wednesday.

Xo!
dk

Tastey international delicacies

And, somehow when you pick up your iPhone Monday morning only to realize the glass screen is cracked, you have a multitude texts from various unknown numbers and missed call from a mysterious international number... yeah, you know you probably had a unique Sunday Funday.

I met a Spaniard yesterday. But the taste of Porto Rico still lingers.

What a lovely day for international delicacies.

Xo!

dk

Pastel ponies rescue my sanity.

" This is my last week of school. At the end of this week, I plan to obliterate myself by way of alcohol and general delinquency. And, I will refuse to emerge from this intoxicated condition until unicorns and multi-colored pastel ponies offer me a piggy back ride across the star sprinkled sky, right to the moon for potato skins and mango figs marinated in chocolate sauce. Saucy! "

- dk

Yup, I just quoted my facebook status from this week. So?

I'm not ashamed.

Sunday driver pulls over

I'm exhausted.

I've spent the last couple weeks balancing full-time academia with full-time professionalism.

Friday night I expired myself from this world, falling asleep at 6pm. Finally, 48 hours later, I left the house. This evening, I took what I thought would be a quick trip to the mall. I needed make-up (I'd have to color myself presentable tomorrow for work). Luckily, being as superficially inclined as I am, I know my make-up - thankfully, I was at the dreaded mall for no more than 15 minutes. But, somehow, it took me several hours to get home.

That's what happens when a 42 year old Greek man with gray hair, in the next car catches my attention. It's a good thing too, my daddy issues have been acting up again lately. This should provide sufficient remedy for the time being.

Goodnight.

Xo!

dk

I'm single and the grass is green!

Damn it! My OKCupid inbox is full.

I should have never uploaded photos!

(Or, I should have at least waited until my school semester came to a close. Busy. Busy.)

Blasphemy!

Xo!

dk

You know you're getting old when Fridays no longer matter.

Work.

School.

Sleep.

Rinse.

Repeat.

It's Friday night.

That said, goodnight.

Xo!

dk

Twitter hip

If I were hip and shit, I'd keep up my Twitter Account.

And maybe I'd follow shit like Somee Cards.

I'm not.

Still, maybe you are.

http://twitter.com/#!/someecards

http://twitter.com/#!/dailydk

My love life, clearly.

You and your cunt are beautiful!

In an ideal circumstance every woman would confidently strut through this imperfect world happy with her imperfect body. Heck, men do it! Why let them have all the rights to confidence? Not under my watch!

"All women think they're ugly, even pretty women. A man who understood this could fuck more women than Don Giovanni. They all think their cunts are ugly... They all find fault with their figures... Even models and actresses, even the women you think are so beautiful that they have nothing to worry about do worry all the time."

- Erica Jong

Stop fucking worrying! Love your cunt!

Xo!

dk

Victoria and I may have a cat fight come June.

Here's the thing... I'm brand loyal. Why? Because I'm lazy.

If I find something - something that works - why change?

Victoria's Secret has been the exclusive name in my intimates drawer(s) for the past 10 years.

I shop in store and online - I know my sizes, I know my styles.

I have the credit card. And, certainly, I have the body. It's that easy.

But...

Seriously, Victoria?

It's no secret that your product line has been slowly deteriorating for the last five years (at least): quality, and style alike. Very gimmicky. And, that PINK Collection - cute and affordable as it is - should not distract your designers from producing a decent Very Sexy product line.

Come on! You're killing me!!

I've been upset with the brand for years now but too lazy to switch.

Can you do something about that, and soon? Please!

See you at the Semi-Annual in June.

Still your loyal customer,

dk

Photos don't lie. They simply fib.

This morning, I added new photos to my online dating profile.

Just goes to show you, guys don't give a fuck what you say - as long as your hot.

It's a damn good thing I have a way with make-up, hair product and perversely undersized attire. False advertising at its finest... if I do say so myself, and I do!

Let the games begin. I'm bored.

Xo!

dk

I was young girl once. It aged me terribly.

I bought a couple of new, used books.

This is my favorite encountered quote, today anyway.

"Infidelity, that infallible rejuvenator, calms the fear of growing old. In spite of our decreasing charms we sweep young people off their feet, for young people do not understand themselves, and fortunately for us, can still be hypnotised by those who do."

True. I was young once. It aged me terribly.

Xo!
dk

Long walks and tall men

This week's dates:

Went on a date with some strange 6'3" man...

it concluded with a midnight stroll through some vacant park after dark.

Went on a date with some strange 6'1" man...

it concluded with a midnight stroll through some vacant city after dark.

It seems the only thing that changed is the height of the strange man...

and location of the vacant place strolled after dark.

Was the conversation different? Not really.

Was the experience different? Not really.

Was the man different? Not really.

They're all just so the same.

And another of the things they have in common: they think I'm so different.

They've never met anyone like me, they always say. At first I thought it a line. Now I realize, it was never a compliment - rather it was a perplexed statement of fact. Fair enough.

Until the next late night stroll with Mr. X, Y or Z

Night.

Xo!

dk

Strawberries & feta.

I have class today, but first...

Strawberry and feta breakfast while I tan in the yard.

If life were like this forever, it wouldn't be called life.
It would be called happiness.

Happiness now.

Xo!
dk

Monday, may you R.I.P.

Please, moment of silence.

Yesterday was my last Case of the Mondays.

A moment of silence, please.

Xo!
dk

Farewell Monday, I will miss you.

Dear Advertising,

We meet again.

Fine.
You win.

Again.

See you bright and early tomorrow morning.

Sincerely,
New Hire

Sunday isn't just about mimosas...

Sunday isn't just about mimosas... it's also about...

Hibiscus
(cranberry & champagne)

Daffodil
(lemonade & champagne)

Charm Fram
(Framboise & champagne)

Black Velvet
(Guinness & champagne)



Spent today at Mutt Lynche's in Newport Beach.

It seems Sundays can be just as fun as Mondays.

Xo!
dk

F. uck people are royally stupid.

Which group is most inane?

A. Victoria's Secret's copy writers slash marketing department for coming up with this bullshit: "4 recos on what to wear when you walk down the aisle with YOUR prince."

B. The 4496 idiots that "liked" this within 2 hours of it being posted

C. The 195 morons that commented on it within 2 hours of it being posted

D. Me for being 'facebook friends' with Victoria's Secret

E. The absurd amount of people who thought it important to watch 'The Royal Wedding'

F. uck people are royally stupid.

Xo!
dk

Eager little beavers, aren't they? Undergraduates.

I attended a guest speaker panel titled, "So you've graduated, now what?"

Were they asking me the question?

If so, I'd have answered:

Interned at a large ad agency for a bit
Slaved away for three years at a boutique agency
Became Vice President of an industry organization
Traveled to Atlanta for an young leaders advertising conference
Picked up a useless year's experience in-house
Thought it all mattered

Quit
Traveled
Returned

Interviewed for jobs
Got cold feet
Retired my resume
Instead, solicited my 'looks'

Paired my 'looks' with my more marketable 'lack of shame'
Landed myself a job: promo model
(i.e. slangin' booze at bars in ridiculous get-ups)

Applied to grad school
Returned to corporate for six months
Toyed with the establishment of a ad trafficking department
Got accepted to grad school
Quit

Visited San Fransico
Expired a majority of my dignity to Vegas
Tried to regain peace in Palm Springs
Relapsed to Vegas shenanigans

4 years short of a decade later...
I'm attending grad school

What would I have done differently?

Maybe I'd have tanned a bit more.
And, traveled a lot more.
Perhaps, not dated a series of alcoholics post divorce.
I might have used my gym pass more often.
Potentially, I'd have eaten some vegetables.

Nope.
I wouldn't change a thing.
Not a damn thing.

But, my story, that's irrelevant.
They didn't ask me the question.

The question was posed at the panelists.
And, the panelists addressed the malleable minds in the room.
Eager little beavers, aren't they? Undergraduates.

I was too, then.
When I didn't know any better.

Off they go... in to 'the real world.'
Only it won't look a damn thing like MTV had promised.
(Is that show even on anymore? The Real World?)

In retrospect...
the panelist spent over an hour saying what could have been concisely stated,

"Good luck out there! Suck it up. Face your fears. You will get overworked. And you will be underpaid. Deal with it. Don't forget to start a LinkedIn account. Dress the part. And, most importantly, dilute your personality so severely that you may communicate with others in a robotic fashion - inviting your peers and management personnel to view and praise you, 'a true professional.' In other words, kids, fake it 'til you make it! Just remember: not a soul found in the 'real world' is 'real' - so, brand yourselves!! Cheers, may the best con artist win!!"

Am I being cynical? No.
Am I being sarcastic? No.
Am I being sincere? Always.

Good luck to all!

Sincerely.

Xo!
dk

My name is Danielle. And, I'm an addict.

As part of a Video Commentary assignment for my Communications 435 Opinion Writing course, I have chosen to delve in to an issue with which I've had vast personal experience.

Professor Scauzillo has requested that I post my video assignment to YouTube - as well as to my blog. I hope this video provides support and solace to those facing similar struggles. Please, you're invited to share my story with your friends, family and dear ones who might benefit from the exposure.



To learn more about my experience with this topic:

http://dailydk.blogspot.com/2011/02/com-dating.html

http://dailydk.blogspot.com/2011/03/yes-i-subscribe-to-okcupidcom.html

http://dailydk.blogspot.com/2011/04/internet-dating-fixing-need-for-fix.html

Take care.

Xo!
dk

A case of the Wednesdays.

It's Wednesday.

I HATE Wednesdays.

In other words: I have class during the day - and at night.

Blah.

Xo!
dk

A case of the Mondays.

It's Monday.

I LOVE Mondays.

In other words: I don't have a corporate job.

Xo!
dk

Fast lane, forever!

Went out with my sister tonight.
Result: drunken mayhem.

Drinking.
Dancing with random strange men.
Drinking.
Roses given to us by other random strange men.
Drinking.
Random angry woman yelling at us.
Drinking.

And, a moto cop chasing us home...
using his walkie to echo his voice through our pathetically suburban neighborhood... "slooooowww DOWN!"

Hahaha. Negative. Never slowing down.
Neither myself nor my sister.
Fast lane, forever.

Love this girl!

Xo!
dk

Humility.

It's a good thing I ain't got none...
because I sure do hate losing shit.

10 Charts About Sex

My type:

Arrogant, eccentric assholes who are immature, make dirty jokes, are bored with reality, consider most things lame and most people ridiculous - and who possess a cynical, angry approach to life expressed by a dark sense of humor. Typically, they are involved in the arts: poetry, painting, music, etc.,

... unrelated to this chart ...
yup, that's my type. 100%

10 Charts About Sex

Tea time. Times three. But, it could just be a lie.

Three Cups of Tea.

I've had this book lying around for nearly a year now.

I suppose when formal education discontinues its tyranny on my reading list, I might again engage recreational reading. But, for the time being, I'm stuck with textbooks dictating subjects in which I possess little motivation - and even less interest.

Oops. That was a tangent. Sorry.

I haven't had the chance to read Three Cups of Tea. But, I've recently come across objection. If you hurry you can download the objection (Three Cups of Deceit) free!! The free download expires today. Enjoy.

Download Three Cups of Deceit

Damn! I wish I'd get paid to spread my legs!

And... all these years, I'd functioned under the impression that getting paid to spread 'em may lead to legal ramifications and potential conviction.

Damn. I was wrong.

It's not prostitution if you're modeling.
[That said, I'm mighty jealous of this woman's career. Lucky!]

Xo!
dk