BOOBS and LOUBS

for the girl creating her own future… for the boy who digs boobs…

MOTHERFUCKERS NEVER LOVED US

IS it awkward that I have spent the better half of the past two hours spinning around with my dog screaming mother fuckers never loved us! Probably? To further the weirdness I have a very intense sulfur mask occupying most of my face. I’m having a really bad face day…where my eyes look 46 instead of 26…

Which leads me to my next point..a little story I have about my face and why dad’s are not really the best people to have around your boyfriend.. what was supposed to be a quick stop and chat between my boyfriend, his friend, myself and my parents to pick up a bag of mind started off with “Morgan, what’s up with your face it’s really shiny”…”It almost looks like metallic paint”….”doesn’t suzy?”…

…………………………. “Why is it so shiny, do you need to put some powder on it?” “It was like that yesterday to”

K, dad.. YA DONE? First off all, Let me just start off by saying that oily skin prevents wrinkles, hence my smooth forhead….SECONDLY…WHY do we think we can bring this up at all in front of my boyfriend..or his friend…OR IN GENERAL?

Not to mention the yesterday he was referring to was after a night out and a two am Mcdonald’s run! Obviously that shit was sweating out of me????? Just not a clue in the world. 

 

MOMMY on EEE

Can’t keep her little model hands offff meee…

I guess after years of telling people they should pay you to use your personality…it eventually happens?? I hope that last sentence would be classified under “subtle” as I can’t continue on the way I REALLY WANT TO.  SO, a  few things have happened since May 7th? And what better time to tell you all about my summer than at 5:10 on September the 28th. Number one being:  I was lucky enough to see Joan Rivers LIVE with my most Jewish friend Samantha, her mother, Sunny and my most un- jewish MOTHER Susan. Yep, just three chosen ladies and a Swiss-German went to experience all that is Joan. 80 years and OH so on point. I HIGHLY suggest if she is ever to be in your hometown doing any form of speaking in front of people…GO.  Now that we’re on the topic of Samantha, I did receive a very interesting phone call sometime last week that went something like this: “YO” “hi” ” Were you the one that told me your period was out of control when you took plan-B?” “I don’t remember, maybe?” “Oh, well, Morgan it all of a sudden became me virginal, in 1875.

And in that moment, It reaffirmed JUST WHY WE ARE BEST FRIENDS. I should probably mention that it  is now 5:41 and this post has just been painful for me to write. I am counting down the seconds until 6 pm so that bottle of red wine can be ripped open and I can remember all of the funny things that I had planned to share with you.  I do want to take a moment to discuss what really has been weighing heavily on my mind. MY SPIN CLASS. NOW, I’m sure many of you are really fucking trendy and you spin, a lot, like me, and all of my friends but like…am I missing something? This isn’t something that we need to be taking quite so seriously.. LADIES? I mean we’re just coming to sweat off the booze from the night before, the bikes don’t actually move… you can smile and say hi? It’s not going to break your warm up concentration? Which automatically brings me to my next thought as they are rapidly firing in now.. WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WARMING UP????? THE CLASS IS GOING TO START AND IT’S GOING TO BE HOT AND SWEATY BECAUSE OF THE FAT FUCK NEXT TO YOU anyway, LET’S JUST RELAX. Like I’m really glad you’re sprinting at rapid fire speed and you’re so pumped about it ? but let’s be real…you probably don’t have plans later…..

On that note- BIG THINGS..BIG THINGS- #SF

ASSide

It all started with an asshole injury. My asshole injury, which occurred as I sat down way too excitedly on my spin bike last week. The tailbone injury is really a confusing one. Usually I would just crack my way out of any pain I am feeling (which is how i’m surviving my hip discomfort, due to my flat left foot turning in causing a DIS-ALIGNMENT) , but with the tailbone..how does one SOLVE AN ISSUE LIKE THAT? It’s a very particular discomfort that your left having to appease and wait till it feels like leaving you alone. Nobody wants their ass cheeks to separate against their will and expose the one area of the body that makes me cringe even while typing it.

After two days of awkwardly walking around, My mother asks: “What’s the issue Morgan?” “I hurt my asshole, Susan”  ” How? ” “In Spin” “I sat down too hard!” ” Duh”. The conversation always has to be forcefully ended or she will just run with the questioning for as long as she pleases. ( Having the answers to most of them). Does every mother do this or just mine?

Upon returning home yesterday, she says  ” Oh, Morgan, I got something for you” She throws a a plastic Rite-Bag on my bed:

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….This is when a stern look had to be given along with a very clear, concise and AMERICAN answer. “MOM!” I don’t have hemorrhoids! “I just hurt my ass bone in spin” ” NOT LITERALLY MY INNER ASSHOLE!” ” You said you hurt your asshole, Morgan..I just wanted you to be comfortable”.  There is no real or proper way to end this post, it really is just what it is.

I will confirm one more time that I DON’T HAVE HEMORRHOIDS.

MORE VEGAS.

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We just want the credit where it’s due.

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No need to be confused- I’m about to EXPLAIN. Above is a picture of the house I grew up in, well the latest version of it. If you’re a California native, you probably remember that little earthquake that shook us all up in 93′. The Stewart family woke up to their marble hallway blasted into what looked like  a bunch of little cookie crumbs (Shouts to RICKY ROSAY/COKE BOYZ) and a sea of dead fish scattered through out the house, due to our in wall aquarium. Ya, exacty…like a early nineties  R.kelly video. After this MINOR setup back, architect Herbert set out to build a house with a shower that resembled a glass blender and some great gossip for my sixth grade classmates. I mean, when everybody has shutters and Doritos and you have a glass roof and MRS GOOCHS VEGAN CHIPS (?), things become VERY complicated four your 12 year old self. Especially when everybody comes over for a sleepover and there is a MASSIVE thunder storm that left everybody panic stricken and you with a lot more questions to answer than you wanted. After that night I just left the sleepovers to Allison Dixon’s house by the airport. Where endless amounts of wonder bread and mayo were at your reach.

NOW- when I was 17, Herbert wanted to transition to the Beach, be in a not so Persian environment shall we say? Which is when newlyweds DEMI and ASHTON showed up. DEMI was  hot off of that comeback and ASHTON was really tight with DIDDY for whatever reason.  Low point for Diddy i’m sure? Before these two gems, a VERY VERY popular Leo D came through…and I?, I was sent off for a day of errands with my fat housekeeper MALLY who was from sweden. ONLY TO FIND A NOTE ON MY DOOR- “SORRY I MISSED YOU MORGAN, LOVE LEO”. If you think I even looked at the scum who claimed to be my parents for 13 years..you’re very wrong.

Now THE ISSUE IS- Every single piece of this home, and every single mother fucking japanese koi that needed to be specifically found for the pond, was a vision that was executed by my the person who tells me to stop talking “badly about my friends”. NOT BY DEMI AND LITTLE ASHTON, WHO MAY I ADD CAME FROM A TRACK HOME OFF BENEDICT CANYON (so we’ll just call on you when we need you to say something ash).  Although Demi did minorly add on to the home, nothing that she has every done has been photographed.

http://homes.yahoo.com/photos/gorgeous-celebrity-pools-1365722459-slideshow/gorgeous-celebrity-pools-demi-moore-ashton-kutcher-photo–77279715.html

AND when articles are being printed to this day and sent to my mad genius father, it’s truly disheartening. – There was no “joint effort” between herself and little Ashton from Cedar Rapids, Iowa. LET’S NOT KID OURSELVES. DEMI – I know things have been blurry for you post divorce, but don’t make me call a bitch out.  We just want the credit where it’s due.

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PERSONAL: Image

FIRST VERSION:

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24 hours in VEGAS.

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Post COACHELLA

It’s  5:51 on Thursday, April 18th.  (Posh spice turns 39 today) (Another Posh spice fun fact: I had a run in w with her last week, actually- false that would imply we said hello, which didn’t happen. She briefly got creeped out and made eye contact with me as I did  not stop staring at her. What she did do was sit at the table next to me at Madeo.  She had a green salad to start and steamed vegetables for her main, and then, then I was inspired.)

It’s been three days since returning home from the epic weekend that is known to us all as “Coachella”. First and foremost, I remember very few and far between details like the rest of you..but I was definitely a lot puffier on Sunday than on our arrival date of Thursday. And I have never been friendlier or more ready to dance with a stranger than on Saturday night, WHERE EVERYBODY WAS WELCOMED and a little scared to come any closer.

Since being home I have been a complete and utter mess. Snotting all over myself and repeatedly sneezing to where people are turning around to check what the fuck is happening behind them. I did have an overwhelming amount of mother/daughter time today as we ran all kinds of errands that included: NOT going to Barney’s and lunch. My personal highlight of the day was our pit stop at Earth bar for TWO wellness shots, in attempt to make myself feel somewhat up for my 24 hour vegas run tomorrow night- no, I have no idea why either. Not only does Susan not understand the meaning of a shot or the point of it needing to be taken all at once. This bitch casually takes a large sip of the cayenne pepper infused liquid, only to  come un DOWN very shortly there after. Once consumed a very loud and foreign ANNOUNCEMENT was made in that accent of hers-  that she is now “going to have hot flashes all day!” Which was when we needed to exit. The twink behind the register was very, very, confused. But she really did, like really. Like the whole way home was a menopausal mess telling me to just “wait” as if that is in any near future of mine.  I now plan on spending the rest of the evening in bed drinking more water than I would like and not moving a muscle.

Hopefully I will return from vegas with all vital organs intact. Wish me Lots of luck!

MORE PICS- Coachella 13′

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Coachella 13′ PICS

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JockinjAYz

Firstly, I just need to come clean about a few things. Number one: I actually was helpful to my mother and schlepped to COSTCO on her behalf. If that doesn’t qualify me to possibly skip out on a mother’s day card purchase, I don’t know what does. Not only did I make the trek to Washington Blvd- SOLO, I also felt comfortable enough to devour an entire serving of shrimp cocktail while roaming the aisles- AGAIN SOLO, by the brand KIRKLAND. Which i’m pretty sure, is only an acceptable if you’re buying cleaning solvent for your toilet…All and all it was a really relaxing experience that showed me I will be a needing a lot of help once any offspring of mine exits my vagina. 

Number two point of this post- I am about to be a HOT 26 and still have the maturity level of an 11 year old, who is mad Jennifer bought the same sweater. Through out my years of progressing as a human, I have come to the realization that I am definitely certifiable and I really must come off as one judgemental bitch. I tend to attract people that mistake my neurotic tendencies of picking myself apart as me judging them for whatever they have or don’t have going on. NOTE TO ALL OF YOU “friends”- I really am that self absorbed, I am not paying attention to you! What you have or don’t have and frankly don’t give a fat shit either way. This horrible habit turns these impressionable friends of mine, into mini versions of me that all of a sudden have the same: personality, speech, jokes, likes and dislikes in food, shoes, music etc. The advice “Just be yourself” really is the most valid three little words you can follow, and to all of you who have managed to make your way to this post, it’s probably directed at you. So please, either mail me a check for the persona you’ve taken on or return back to your actual selves. We don’t all need to share the same version of something, always.

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