August 8, 2000 Korn concert

         The guy in front of me at one point was wearing dark blue Hanes Classic underwear. I made a mental note of such a detail for the purpose of this journal, I wouldn’t know where else to start. Also, each 24 oz. cup of Coors Light was seven bucks. God help us all.
        The mosh pit, not unlike the one at the Tool concert, was a bathtub of shirtless moshing man-perspiration which I splashed around in with my clothes on. The black glider pants once around my waist slipped down to hug my hips, my hair was slicked back in sweat, and steel-toed boots could have served a lot better, and we were only halfway through their set.
        At times when each of my shoulders were wedged between everyone else’s shoulders and elbows and heads and feet and—ah, what the hell—ass cracks, I could only conform with the crowd by letting them effortlessly levitate me as they jumped up and down, my only balance being the tippy toes on one foot and my hands on the shoulders of the people squishing me. We were sweaty, breathing on each other, clustered and kind of doing the can-can.
        I looked around and wondered where all the girls were. Some were floating above the crowd, setting a record for the greatest number of female ass to ever be on top of my head. Others I could hear to my left, screaming as they all toppled like dominoes with the surge of their surroundings.
        I spotted one crowd surfer as he encountered an opening in his support below and faced a gravitational pile driver head first into the ground, until a bunch of arms and hands caught his feet and gripped his jeans for a moment that rendered him in a mid-air, upside-down fetal position. The tangle of limbs and its screaming centerpiece looked like an intricate sculpture. I gave it a ten. It was amusing until a big burly fellow blindly elbowed me in the chest and knocked the wind out of me.
        I was pushing people from all sides of me until the ones to my left and right weren’t going anywhere and the people in front of me turned around to give me the hairy eyeball (and arms, and back...). A bearded, long-haired metal head witnessed me shoving a guy in a blue shirt into the wall of bodies on his left and yelled, "Don’t let her push you around!" Lol. Boy were my arms tired.

August 9, 2000

"hey, at least you got your seatbelt on!!! haha" --Ryan

        I got the citation for the running that red light today in the mail. It says the light was red for 0.6 seconds. GODDAMIT! I thought I could make more of a satire out of the citation by scanning the snapshots of me in the car (which just adds to the embarrassment factor.. it looks like I’m smiling) and putting them on my website to humor people. I still find it utterly humiliating, I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. I have no idea when the courtesy notice will come or how much the bail will be. I just wish I didn’t have any of this to worry about. Yesterday I got what I’d been needing for a long time... a good, rough concert. Now I have this weekend to look forward to, for Will and Ryan who are visiting. I can’t wait.
        For all the pleasures in my life it seems that I have to endure three times as many burdens. I access a good time as often as a dog gets doggie treats—just once in a while, and only after I’ve learned a bunch of tricks. Why can’t I just tip the box and get all the treats at once, even if it means having no gratification to savor for the rest of my life? I guess I don’t learn all my tricks until my mid-twenties. After that is when I start running out of karmic Scooby Snacks, and lose the teeth to chew them anyway.

August 28, 2000    Leader of the A-Cup A Team

         I hung out at Jon and Brian’s house today. They both played the guitar and I played their little mini Casio keyboard. I was hoping they could play No Doubt or Incubus cuz I seem to think I specialize in singing those songs, but they didn’t. The most they heard out of me was when I sang “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay” in an opera voice and they were all like, “Whoa!” It must have been the salsa I was eating that made my voice sound good.
         I’ve always wanted to make music with a bunch of guys and sing, so I was having a good time. We thought about getting alcohol and hanging out but I had to go and Brian had to work, so we’re probably going to hang out tomorrow. They have another roomate who’s female and she has such big tits that that’s the only thing people notice about her. They say she also has tons of guy friends, but only because of her tits. Hey, I have tons of guy friends and I have small tits. I must be doing something right.
         Speaking of the two fried little eggs on my chest, I entered my wet tank top picture to Rock 105.3’s “Wet on the Net” online wet t-shirt contest. Do you know how many pieces of ass have entered that thing and have their pictures posted on the Rock 105.3 website? They are all skinny with huge tits. B-b-b-b-big. And pretty faces. They’re all real girls from San Diego. What audacity I have to even sit there and fill out the entry form and upload the picture and whip up a bio (for which I wrote, “I’m a small girl trying to make it in a big-titted world...”) The only cool thing about my picture is that it was kind of artsy and in the ocean and for a modeling shoot, but after looking at the other girls that entered (some even topless, defeating the purpose)...I’m flat-chested, broad-shouldered, shapeless, and just a little child. I’m a straight line compared to those chicks. Not that it bothers me that much, but I also realized afterwards that I was 17 when those pictures were taken. The average age of those those chicks is probably in the mid 20's. Goo goo ga ga. I’ll be damned if anyone votes for me. I’m not even sure if they’ll put me on the site. Hee hee.. I’m so silly.. online wet t-shirt contest. What if I won. Jesus, the whole world would come to a screeching halt. The winner only gets a grand anyway. Maybe I should tell them I’ll use the money to stuff my bra, lol.

August 29, 2000

Fuck, man! They used my picture on their website anyway! Oh those bastards.. now I really did it. I'm at the bottom of the second page of big busties who sent in their picture. I thought they screened the contestants! Oh well. Everyone go to this page around Labor Day and vote for me. I've gotta take over this wet t-shirt bullshit. When I lose I'll let you know what place I come in. *snicker* Help. I'm so fucking silly. They even have my stupid quote on there and everything. How embarrassing. At least the webmaster said it was a nice picture. Mommy...

August 30, 2000

         Oy vey. Some Rock 105.3 listeners who saw my dumb mug on the website e-mailed me. About what, I dunno... I tried to write one guy back who had read The Deal with Asian Broads from my website, but there was a power outage at the Mesa Library so all the lights went out and people’s monitors started flickering and flashing and tweaking and putting on a little laser show. I thought the raver-rific guy sitting next to me was about to bust out a glowstick and start dancing. Anyway, I didn’t get to see what else was in my in-box but I hope it’s not bad. The last thing I need is for one of my long-lost enemies or an ex-boyfriend out there in San Diego to see me on the site and have another reason to think I’m stupid.
         On the other testicle, I’m kind of glad that that link is getting me hits on my site. Nothing like a little personality to win a couple votes, eh comrades? Eh? And by "a couple votes," I'm talking literalliy. A couple people.

August 31, 2000

         Rich from Bonedown.com called tonight as I was checking my guestbook. He suggested I add some multimedia and live streaming crap to my website. Maybe I should just do a live feed of me sticking tampons up my nose and disappoint people.
         I asked him if there was anyway I could be making money off of The Gypsy Box. One of two options was to sell my pictures from the website. Fuckin hilarious. I saw one model doing that on her website, and charging extra for the autographed 8x10’s. Meanwhile nobody knows who the hell she is. What good is paying for some chick’s autograph if you don’t know anything about about her but the fact that she’s good-lookin’. That’s a real talent. Guys are visual creatures so I suppose it doesn’t really matter if the girl's just a dumbass bim. But beauty as a measure of eminence? Eh.. fuck that.
        Then Richard suggested that if I get enough hits I could sell advertising space. I’m already a whore with those fucking pop-up Tripod banners. I show people what I can do with Tripod’s photoalbum template, and then people are inspired to create their own websites (at least according to what one guy said in my guestbook). Are you kidding? I’m Tripod’s bitch.
        Rich is telling me I have some kind of potential to make it in the entertainment biz. Like Houston the porn star who broke new grounds with her 620-guy gang bang? Gravy. The Rock 105.3 link has gotten Bonedown.com a couple hundred hits already.. I’ll entertain that idea as long as it makes him happy.
         He made one good point though at the end of our conversation. I can either win or lose this contest, but I still got myself on a website with Howard Stern in the corner of it.
         I'm happy as a fucking clam.

September 1, 2000

         Feeling a bit more mercurial today. Loren wrote me an e mail that made me cry but I also laughed at a guy who sent me a picture of his bare white ass. People are putting me through PMS for chrissake. Pass the glass.
         So the whole concept of me being in this contest is pretty tired by now, man. “Go to the Rock website and vote for me” sounds pretty f’n gay when I say it out loud, I guess that’s why I’ve only mentioned it to a couple people. I think all it does is make me wanna go out and hit the bottle. I need something else to think about cuz people are making me think I actually have a chance at winning this damned thing. If I ever did, it would only be equivalent to the biggest dork in high school getting voted Prom King. Total load. In that event then it’d only be apropos to douse myself with pig’s blood and kill everyone in San Diego. How’s that for a live video feed.

September 2, 2000

Chick from work said she saw one of the photos I did for Paul Mitchell in a magazine ad. Stupid ass didn't even make a point to see which one she was looking at so that I would know for sure. I'm not about to flip through every chick magazine out there though just to look for my big ass bowling ball head. I was so excited when I found out though that I went out and told some stranger who complimented my hair color that "I did it for a photo shoot and now it's in a magazine." And then I had to add, "Cool, huh," because she didn't say anything, she just looked at me.

September 3, 2000

Got a little drunk last night at Jared's house and prayed to the porcelain god. Wooo doggie. I was chewing gum so hard that night that I bit my tongue and took a big chunk out of it. Where it went I don't know, but there's a big piece missing on the side of my tongue now. Maybe it got mixed into my gum so that I was chewing a piece of my own tongue over and over again. I'm gonna throw up again now, that's fucking vile. <------ That wasn't me tonight.. it was actually maybe a year ago.. regardless, kids, let this be a lesson. Jungle juice + Ricky Martin music + a house full of jovial gay men celebrating their homosexuality = Gypsy getting fucked up and puking in iceplant

September 5, 2000

         Today I actually went through all of the girls' profiles on the Wet on the Net contest for the first time. I gotta speak for Tom here when I say "Some of those chicks are foul, dude." All the nice looking ones aren't real entries. I'm the only Asian girl on there. That's cool. Just in case any of the voters like small girls, huh? I'm the smallest one. Woohoo! Maybe I'll get an Honorable-Mention-But-Sorry-You're-Boobs-Aren't-Big-Enough consolation prize.
         Funny how a lot of the girls are like, "My hobbies include group sex in my jacuzzi," "riding cock," "kissing my lesbian friend," "licking my nipples with my warm wet tongue..." "If I win I'll moan on the air for BC and Woody.." And then there's me and I'm like, "I'm not such an exhibitionist."
         Uhhhh, uh huh huh, huh.
         I looked at each girl as if I were voting and kind of disqualified any chick that either was a mom, was too skinny, too fat, who wasn't even wearing a wet t-shirt (come on), or had a gnarly face. I didn't rule out the implanted ones. I think I like Shandi on my page even though she's got some big ol' milk jugs and I can't see her face. I can sort of appreciate a hot picture... Oh nevermind, she's the one that said her hobbies included "riding hard cock." Nah, fuck that. Denied! Wait a second, she's also the one that said "Licking my nipples with my warm wet tongue!" Woops! Double whammy. What a douche bag. (Don't try so hard and I'll vote for you, breast-tissue-for-brains!)
         Eh, I'm yawning.

September 7, 2000

I have the magazine with my picture in it! It's the August issue of Modern Salon, I'm in a full page color ad and my big fat head is on pages 37 and 38 advertising Paul Mitchell's touring dates for his new line. It's such a weird thing to see yourself in something like that, but so exciting, I showed everyone I knew in the mall. Maryella handed the magazine to me at work today saying, "Look through it." I flipped the pages, nervous as hell seeing how close up all of the pictures were (it's a hairstylists magazine) and when I finally got to the picture of me and Nicole, I gasped, and my heart started beating so fast. It made me really anxious. Everyone at work was so happy for me, my parents want me to order back issues of it and everything, and I went to Staples and made a copy of the ad to send to Tom overseas, where I saw Jordan Catalano, who thought it was really cool even though he doesn't remember me from high school. Geez, for once in my life i feel like I've accomplished something. Damn. What a great feeling.

September 8, 2000

         Eek. Today was lovely. Two guys came up to me after school and asked me where the K Building was. Their good looks made my fangs grow out so I took a chance to draw a little blood and asked them to vote for me in Rock 105.3's online contest. It was a balls-y move for me that seemed to please Jordan, the talker of the two. I gave them a good punch in the mouth with my ego glove.. I told them about the contest, about me being on the Mikey Show tonight, I even showed off my picture in Modern Salon Magazine to them like a pretentious superstar model little fag.
         I warned them how distracting the tits would be on the contest page (not the contestants, just the tits) but hopefully they'll be able to find my picture during their refractory periods at least. I shyly told them they didn't have to vote for me if they find someone better, but they said they would. Jordan and Chris. Two snowboarder guys from Aspen who moved here to Pacific Beach to be by the beach and surf. Spectacular, I'm so lucky they came and talked to me. Jordan said he'd e mail me with his number. Holy Testicle Tuesday.
         Something in the back of my head likes to think they knew where the K Building was all along.

September 9, 2000  Saturday

         Last night was one of the rare occasions that I saw all of my best friends all together in the same place, and Ryan wasn't even there to bring us all together. We partied right. Everyone met at Damon's house, and as soon as me and Anthony drove up, they were all standing outside, happy and already drunk. We got out of the truck to say hello to everyone and Tom just jumped in and started driving around the parking lot. Everyone was so crazy, I felt like we had just driven to an insane asylum. From there we decided to go to Nick's house. We got there and all the guys stood outside, waiting for Nick to come back with more beer, singing "I Whooped Batman's Ass" by Wesley Willis around Tom's truck like a bunch of old men, probably disrupting the whole neighborhood. It was music to my ears.
         After everyone had congregated in the backyard, I told Anthony I was gonna bust out the magazine and show everyone. I come out and say I have an announcment, and Anthony shushes people down until everyone's silent and looking at me like I'm about to tell them I'm pregnant. Once I started flipping the pages of the magazine Geoff went, "If there's naked chicks in there I've probably already seen it." I open up to the Paul Mitchell ad, hold it up in the air and say, "Baby's in a magazine!" People flipped out. Troy and Tom were close to tears, they were so happy for me. They once worked for Tigi and read Modern Salon everyday and Troy also did some hair shows and tried to get into magazines, so I knew he and Tom would appreciate the ad. After Jared came over I saw him pick up the magazine with my page open, and just carry it around with a beer in his other hand, looking at my picture. My friends were proud of me and couldn't stop telling me how cool it was, and I was so damn happy for the whole night. Josh was taking a picture of all of us with Vicki's camera, and once he had us all bunched together in the backyard, he pulled his belt out so that his pants dropped right to his ankles, we all cracked up, and he snapped the picture. It felt like we were in a movie, everything was so orchestrated.. all of us laughing, the music, everything. Eric Campbell made his entrance by coming to the backyard through the side gate, shining his flashlight on us like a cop, until we all froze and looked to see who it was and saw it was him, wearing a sweathshirt that said "Straight Edge" on the front and "Drinking Sucks!" on the back. Course he was holding a beer in the other hand.
         I drank but I didn't get sick. Troy and I had a moment when we talked on the couch and he told me about how much more he and Ryan, Tom, Anthony, Kings and Josh respected me than other guys at the party, and how unhappy he is with Laura, etc. I ended up spending the night there, sharing a couch with Troy and this other chick who passed out and basically slept sitting up, while I tried to sleep in the little space I had with my head on Troy's chest. We woke up sore and hungover. Geoff and I were up as early as 6:30 a.m. bitching about not being able to sleep at other people's houses, and we smoked in the backyard while Nick's dogs ate banana peels on the ground and sniffed at open beer bottles. They were so hungry they ate Laura's disposable camera and left it torn up in the backyard. Budweiser and Corona bottles were all over Nick's patio like wounded soldiers. As soon as everyone was up, we were all in the backyard again, it was Saturday, and Troy opened up one of the last bottles of Bud and said, "Let's do it again!"

September 10, 2000 Sunday

Tonight I spent a couple special hours with my keyboard and c.d. player trying to figure out how to play Fiona Apple's cover of "Angel" by Jimi Hendrix. God forbid I have a real piano to play it on let alone know all the chords to the song. I only learned enough to sing the first verse and then I'm stuck. So if I ever get the opportunity one night to serenade a guy to sleep, he'll have to doze off within the first minute before I have to start playing another incomplete Fiona Apple song I tried to learn, and then another one three minutes later... Who knows if by the end of the night the guy will even wake up at all. I could turn around and find him hanging by a bedsheet noose from a ceiling fan with blood coming out of his ears.

September 11, 2000 "She... she screams in silence..."

I kinda felt like shit today when I went over to Jon's house again after school. I didn't know why it was, but I realized that it was probably because I got a real brutal post in my bulletin board that I read before I left, and as stupid as it was and trivial as it is being from someone who doesn't even know me, I thought about it and it bugged me until I fucking got all bipolar and lay down on Jon's couch and started crying. Out of nowhere. Jon probably thought I was nutty but he knew I wanted to come over in the first place because something was bothering me. He had his guitar out and started singing "No Woman, No Cry." Music to soothe the savage beast. I felt like a fucking psychotic nut. I was thinking about how this website has been such a magnifying glass on my personality recently, and why everyone that goes to it has to form such an opinion about me and it sucks because they take it way too seriously. I thought about taking it down, or putting the journal and the writing before the pictures.. anything to "weed out the boneheads" as Jon put it. When I made this website I didn't think I would mean a damn thing to people. Now I'm significant enough for dickfaces to sit there and put more thought into my personality than I have ever put in myself! Then they leave fucking long-ass posts talking shit on my bulletin board criticizing me for doing whatever the hell I want to do and for what I've been doing with this website for the last goddamn year? Fucking geez! If people didn't have so much time on their hands I wouldn't have to worry about making all of them happy. Shit.

September 12, 2000  I'm safe in my house with a 7&7

         Got an e-mail from a listener saying he heard me on the Mikey show. I didn't think they aired that. It was supposed to be on Friday night at 7:30, when all of my friends were listening of course, but I was on last night. I figured Mikey wasn't going to air it because I sounded lousy. Woops.
         I checked out the newest chickies in the contest. They're pretty cute, it's kind of depressing. The Rock website says five finalists will be chosen to perform (?) at Cheetah's on September 15th. What the fuck? I don't know if I want to win so much anymore.. what if I don't want to perform anything. I'll probably have to wet myself down and writhe around like fuckin' Madonna for a bunch of guys. Oy veyyyy. Actually I don't have to worry about that. *sigh* Five finalists my ass. Boobs make the world go round, no one gives a shit about personality. I was only trying to revolutionize wet t-shirt contests and control it and make it a better place for boys and girls all over the world, like the Sally Struthers of starving men in Boobland. Now look what I've gotten myself into. I'm just awkward. I don't belong in this contest with those chicks anymore than I fit in with the models that did the Paul Mitchell shoot with me.
         Fuck man. Let's go drink.

September 13, 2000 Wet on the Net Reject

I'm sure everyone that voted for me for the Wet on the Net is coming back to my journal page today to see what I have to say about not being one of the finalists. I knew I didn't belong in that contest, quite frankly. Was I right or was I right. It was fun being in it though, I liked being excited over nothing. Actually it was pretty rewarding to be a contestant.. The Gypsy Box was getting as many as 200 hits a day, I met a lot of strange people, I was on the Mikey show, blah blah blah blah blah. When I went to the site and saw that I wasn't one of the finalists, I was listening to "Danke Shoen" by Wayne Newton off of Napster and it seemed to fit the mood I was in perfectly. I was actually thankful that I wasn't a finalist and at the same time thankful that people were behind me (pardon the pun) as far as voting went... thank you FRIENDS. [I'm sure they're all looking around right now as if they don't know me: Ryan, Anthony, Kings, Robby, Jordan, Will, Kevin (they call me Slim Shady.. I'm back, I'm back), Spanky, Jon and Brian, etc.] I should have a little section on my profile page in honor of them. I think I'll work on it tonight cuz there's soo much shit on there that I wanna take out. Fuck... work tomorrow. RGGGHH. Now I'm tired, just because i remembered I had to work tomorrow. Well, I'm thinking of it this way: what's a more respectable way to earn a thousand dollars, win votes in a wet t-shirt contest or do a modeling shoot for Paul Mitchell and get in a bunch of magazines? Exactly. I've already made my grand. Eat my fuck Rock 105.3. Huhuh.