desiree

Halloween is just an excuse for girls to look slutty.

Once, two years ago, I had this conversation with Steph and Sara.

"Any random inanimate object could be considered a costume, as long as it remotly resembles it with a little T&A. Like, a slutty tree. Paint your self brown and glue some leaves to your body... Shazzzzam! Costume."

This halloween.... I finally became what I was born to be,  a slutty tree.


Follow your dreams, young grasshopper.

I never update. But you probably knew that.

I have not slept in days. An hour here and there through the night, light, restless, and suck ass.

Im fucking addicted to looking at Vintage clothing. And Sewing. And Looking. And Wanting. And fucking Sewing.

I have to walk to work today. If it doesn't rain. I need the exercise.

I have fat knees. No, really. Fat Knees. What the hell.

Every room of this apartment is covered in scraps and debris from me, and my new Obsession.

I knew that I had an Obsessive personality, but wow.

I've kind of always wanted to be fucked up, but always knew I was too rational for anything dramatic to happen. But now, Im not so sure.
I think about if I was a celebrity a lot.

I understand Nicole better now. She said shes not anorexic, just stressed out. That's completly understandable, now. I just like clothes a lot and I havent slept and am forgetting to eat. She lost a boyfriend, has a book, and an album, and a TV show, and is the muse for top designers. That's so much thinking and so much caring about stuff, that theres no time to eat, or sleep, or whatever normal people do.

Good thing Im too much of a pussy to ever try drugs.

This sounds super melancholy. Depressing even. But no, I'm happier than ever. [if Ever is denying Australia happened.] Im just tired.
I think a little Nyquill will cure this. Maybe after work today.

I think I either have the Best or the Worst possible job for my mental situation right now. Not only does Goodwill add to my obsession for really good authentic vintage, Im looking through every item for the label to see which decade its from. Its kind of like a game. mmmm.

But honestly, If there is ever a dress by Mary Quant or Biba, none of the people pricing them would know how amazing they are. They would think, oh another wierd old dress. Price that shit for 3.49, and some slut will come in and buy it. AS A FUCKING JOKE. I will probably slit her throat. Im not even kidding.  Ok, maybe not slit her throat. But Im not opposed to cutting a bitch.

Moral of the story: People dont need diets or fame, they need hobbies.

and a fucked up personality.




[ps. i miss you babe]
[babe, being steph, for all you fuckers reading that and thinking boy problems]

Seemingly unrealted events, somehow taught me something meaningful about life:

The other day. After playing at Jakes friends house, him a little drunk, me a little sassy, Jake and I decide to go to WalMart to get some schmofulls. (another word for condom is profalactic. Rhymes with schmofull-schmactic. Short hand... schmofull.) Anyway, when Jake is drunk random things scare him. So we were in WalMart, and upon looking around, the only other people in the deserted store were us and the morbidly obese and deformed shoppers. Even the checkout guy was mentally handycapped.

It was a strange phenomena.

Last night, I couldn't sleep AT ALL. I would wake up every few minutes. I had wierd psudo-dreams. Jake wasn't here because he has to wake up early to work at the peach orchard. Yes, my boyfriend is 10 and works in a peach orchard and at a model aeroplane racing place during the summer. Anyway, I couldn't sleep. So I woke up and started wandering around the apartment. I felt energized, so at about 4ish, i went for a jogg around silvertree. I ran through our little neighborhood, and quickly had the feeling of impending death. I sprinted back towards Paul Medow, my apartment, past the dimmly lighted basketball courts full of middle aged men "shooting hoops."

Now, you may ask. Why would you run alone at 4 in the morning without telling anyone. If I would have died no one would have known. But no. You should be asking why there were 15 or so men in cut of shirts and too short of shorts playing some b-ball in my apartment complex. I would have stopped to ask on any normal circumstance. But not tonight. Fuck that. I was going to die. 

So I guess the moral of the story is, only the middle aged, and deformed come out to play at 4 in the morning.

You might be saying... well I go out at 4 in the morning all the time. I say to you... Sir have you not noticed you are deformed. Are you unaware that you are, in fact, morbidly obese. I know these things sneak up on us. Sometimes we just dont know. Well, im informing you... all of you, YOU ARE FREAKS, GO BACK TO YOUR HOME WHERE THE HILLS HAVE EYES.  

It's kind of like that old friend that you used to be best friends with, but haven't seen in years. You should have so much to talk about, so much to catch up on. But instead, you have nothing to say. No important news. Livejournal, that is. Livejournal is my old friend. 

What do you say when the little details of life aren't monumental and nothing sugnifficant has happened?

That's my problem. I sit and think to myself. I should really update my livejournal, but when the time is right, I have nothing to say.

Let's forget about the past, thats what I say. Everything that has happened up until now is just a story. Anything could have happened, nothing matters. You are who you are at any given moment. So fuck who you once were. Fuck who you were 5 minutes ago, and be the person that you want to be right the hell now.

Tomorrow is the Fourth of July. I'm pretty pumped. A nice dinner and concert whilst watching fireworks over the lake with the perfect boy should be quite a treat. I'm going to wear a dress. Because why not?

I feel like I've been completly lacking style here of late. We'll account that to my impaticence. There are loads of laundry that take a million years to finish. I perpetually smell like a "sammmich" and my work clothes are never clean. I wear nothing but tank tops and underoos around the house, so actually dressing to go somewhere seems like a chore. I have a few outfits that are tried and true, so when push comes to shove, I stick to what I know. Therefore, Tomorrow I am wearing a dress. Chyeah.

Side note: The Olsen Twins are the cutest girls alive.

I had to re-pierce my lip today. What the hell.

Steph, Jake and I can't stop talking in this voice. It's like... actually, there is no way to describe this voice. I'm sure it's annoying to everyone who aren't us.

I guess there is no point to this update. But, reading all of yours, I guess mine is adequatly just a boring.

Tsubi is real sick.

Im sick as well. But only when I eat. FUCK FOOD. No more eating for awhile. but I always say that. Blah.

Ponyboy is a dick.

Molly is home. That is cool.

This is the first night in over a week that I have to sleep sans boyfriend. But tomorrow is date night. We are poor. Maybe we should go makeout in church parking lots. yeaaaa.

I finally took the blue painters tape down from my shoot your face off orange walls.

Speaking of shooting your face off, today steph and I colored in coloring books whilst eating a vat of chocolate icecream watching movies from the 2 for $1 section.

My cat pooped on my boyfriend last night. just a little. He drunk.

Moral of the story: Drunk boys=cute boy. Sick kittens= cute kittens. As long as neither die in the process.

so im not a worring person... but i cant go to sleep because jake isnt back from the bar yet.

sometimes he drinks and drives.

i made him promise that he would quit drinking at least an hour before he came home.

hes just so stubborn.

im afraid hes been in a wreck or something. its not too late yet though.

i hope im worried for no reason, i just hate this feeling.

nothing like sifting through your makeup bag to find enough change to buy bread from the bakery outlet.

lets swindle them with australian coins.

popsicles and saltines till i die.

write some blogs about me bitch.

i have obtained my first real job.
no fake babysitting. no crazy pyramid schemes.
something legit.
The pita pitt.
I think its because i drew a picture with a lame joke on the application
and talked about books and running.

Jake and the Giant Peach.
thats what I call him.
Hes not a demon.
Like Paris.

Nothing to do today but eat popsickles
and read about faceless godesses.

My armpits smell like strawberries.
my clothes had a demolition derby in my closet
Free coffee tonight.

Im trying to hit bottom.

Somtimes I feel like I want whats bad for me.
I have some skewed view of glamour.
Some fucked vision of myself.
Thats fine.

Pay attention to detail.
Jump out the window of our tree house apartment.
Land on your feet.
I cried black tears today. Tears of indifference.
Or did I?

I think food settles in layers in your stomach.
heaviest on bottom.
lighter on top.
makes since.
but I also think its color coordinated.
green. then pink.
thats the only colors that exist in there.
only theyre that vomit color of green and pink.
like freshly cut grass or strawberries and cream
mixed with vegtable oil... whipped and blended with the ashs of babies.
i dont condone eating babies.
unless theyre baby animals... then i guess theres nothing i can do about it, but dig in.

more balls.
more bones.
more colors and clothes.

less cold.
less chubs.
less boys and BBQ's.

fuck this. fuck this. fuck you, fuck me. fuck this. fuck this. fuck off please.
yeayea... im not lady like.

more like a drag queen with a smaller package.
a tranny with no vest.
bite me.

smile to hide your throat. you whore.

im a fat kid again.

fuck this.

i need a job. someone hook me up.
seriously.

i like my boyfriend. and my roomates.

im completly lacking insight. or maybe motivation to eleoquently reveal it to the masses.

our appartment is amazing.

i love how me and steph eat breakfast and dinner together.

and how we invite people over for dinner, but we dont have any pots to cook food, or and can openers to open the food.

i love how our boyfriends are always here.

and how we are amazing.

i cant wait till molly moves in and actually lives here full time, so she can be in on the action soon.

i cant wait to decorate more, and do cool stuff with it.

i cant wait till sara stays the night this weekend.

my dad is comming tomorrow and giving me more stuff.

i need a job.... DESPERATLY!

i need sleep more right now.

this will be the first time since ive moved in that ill sleep alone. blah. finals suck.

free internet rocks.

best. appartment. ever.

HOMEGOMEOHOMEOMHOMOMOHOMEOMEOMEOMGHOMHOME!!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

home!

BOYFRIEND!!!!

doin it!

best life EVER!!!!!!!!

yes, going home!

Im all packed for home.
Its one in the morning and everyone is staying up all night.

I will sleep like a baby on the plane.
I jogged 15 and biked 50 miles today.
Sometimes I randomly gain a lot of pounds and freak out about it.
I might be a little crazy.

But my last day in australia has been nice.
Not perfect, and Im glad.
I don't need it to be any harder to leave this place. these people.
I'm excited to come home.

I love my boyfriend.
I love my girls.
I love my life at home.

I feel changed. Like a different person.
I dont know how this will affect my life at home.

I love flying... but I just want to be home already.

I leave australia in 2 days.

im sad but happy at the same time.

i love it here. i miss home.

i dont want to leave and i dont want to stay.

I do however, have the best life ever.

Everyone be prepared to play with me!

Ive been 2 entire days comepletly without makeup.

im fasting makeup for a week because im extreamly addicted.

its bad.

i havent been without eyemakeup on for 10 years.

10 YEARS! that is ridiculous.

I put it on even if im just sitting at home alone.

this has to stop and I just want to be comfortable with myself no matter how bedazzled I am.

i dont NEED all that crap.

ill never completly give up makeup, but its not controling my life.

nothing is, IM DESIREE FUCKIN KUENKELE.

thats right.

PEOPLE NEED TO STOP THINKING I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

holy hell.

i eat bad one day and gain like 6lbs.
this is ridiculous.
i guess its more inspiration for the next weeks.
i hate being such a girl about it.
but i seriously eat healthier than anyone I know, and run 5-10 miles a day.
but the first day i eat what i want and dont work out, i gain an assload of weight.
maybe i care too much.
and i guess you dont lose weight eating cookies and icecream.
but fuck.
and im really drunk.
so thats why im posting this.
australian boys need to stop trying to kiss me.
i love my boyfriend.

So its st. patricks day today.

I layed out for 5 hours in my green bathing suit. 

Im so much tanner.

Tonight we are going to an Irish Pub in Ballina. (pronounced baaaaaaal-in-a, NOT ba-leena)

Should be great fun. Im going to wear my amazing new preppy outfit.

I want to get really really really drunk because I havent been yet, and it will be fun.

We are going to the bottle shop soon to get some booze and drink on the beach.

St. Patrick, I love you.

I like my boyfriend. and by like i mean love. and by love i mean he is perfect and should be my boyfriend forever.

I like losing weight. Its easier than people make it out to be.

I like being in australia. And laying out during the hottest hours.

I like low tide. The waves are perfect and the beach is easier to deal with. The sand is more pact for jogging and laying, and the ocean is clear for metres.

I like fruit. Its the best invention ever. Especially peaches and grapes.

Im a new found health freak. And by new found... I mean not really new found, just more so now. Chilli Hummus on Seaweed Flovored rice crackers is like the best lunch ever.

I love shoes. I prefer barefoot.

I like all the people Im living with right now. They are awesome. Some will be friends for my life.

I love how many dogs there are around here. Everyone has a dog, everyone brings it to the beach. They are nice. They sit outside of the pub while their owner drinks at 2 in the afternoon.

I love the pub, and the cute aussie singer thats there every thursday. I think she might have a little crush on me. But probably not. Maybe I have a crush on her?

I like getting paid to cut/style people hair and/or do their makeup. Ive done it for free so long that its just a BONUS to get some monies.

I like talking to jake all the time even though we are forever away from eachother. I like that hes drama free and we dont argue or annoy eachother. I like that I found everything Im looking for in a person, and hes amazingly attractive.

I like my life, all but the whole coughing up slime thing.