I don't want to set the world on fire.

I just want to start a flame in your heart.

Goddamn men.

You hear all this jibber jabber out on the streets about men not understanding women, fuck they even made a Mel Gibson movie about it. Ladies, am I alone when I say I don't understand what is going on in the male mind, literally 100% of the time? Yet I'm addicted. They are the crack-cocaine of genders. Nothing happened, I am just trying to process something here, bear with me.

Soon to come, a full breakdown of my high school relationship. Gas mask, beatboxing, stinky single dreadlock and all. Let's try to make sense of this thing together, shall we?

Oh Yah, She's greeat

alma matters

I remember walking in to that lecture hall and looking around hoping to see a friendly face. At Emerson, friendly faces were in short supply, and I was still wounded from the emotionally ass kickings I routinely received at my townie suburban high school- I didn't hold out much hope. Then I saw HER.

Golden hair blowing like she was in a Stevie Nicks video, backlit with doves flying from an unseen cage behind her folding chair...pretty lady, will you be friends with me? I must have looked like fucking grizzly adams. Gigantic faux-fur leopard coat and a head full of knotted fro-frizz that matched my dirty and matted jacket. I breathed through my mouth a lot in those days...unaware that I was in the middle of a record breaking awkward phase that started in 5th grade and went on until about 3 years ago. People used to laugh when I talked, mostly because I had a baby voice that came out of this mean looking pile of hair and black eyeliner and rotted converse shoes.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" Please be nice to me nice looking person, you seem like you'll be nice to me. And she was, it was Lesley and she was smart and hilarious, she hated Earnestness just as much as I did and agreed with me that most of those kids were taking themselves waaaay too seriously.

I was scared shitless throughout college, and completely convinced that my admission to the writing program had been some sort of horrible mistake. All these people considered themselves to be POETS or some goddamn JD Salinger in training, and here I was, writing my pointless little stories and playing with Halloween makeup. I might have amused my friends and impressed some high school English teacher who was routinely spit on by his students, but this was the BIG TIME and I was OUT OF MY LEAGUE. Sweet merciful mother of god was I ever cruel to myself back in those days.

Lesley was sweet to me and didn't make me feel like I was sloth from Goonies. We watched awful videos together, we laughed and roamed the streets. I introduced her to my thuggish friends, they all immediately wanted to marry her but she and M were rock solid at the time.. No dice homies! She introduced me to Alisa and we ate more croissants than we should have at the Cafe de Paris..ooh lala! We giggled through workshop classes and tried not to look at each other during the really tough readings....

Oh Monkey...

shaved tail clinging to cold table

electrodes pressed to soft flesh

your body convulses and then lies still

did you die for me...monkey?

to be continued

kablewie!

Oh me oh my oh. The world is one confusing damn place. What the hell is happening with the economy? Who knew I had $700,000,000,000 to hand over to Wall Street, is that even enough 0's? As part of a small business, fear is eating us all alive. Hopefully everyone will still need to drown their sorrows with beer and karaoke, or we are fucked. Will I ever get to buy my little cottage? That shiny new hybrid? Will I have to move back in with my damn parents and eat goldfish out of the pond to survive? How many weight watchers points is small carp? I'm no financial expert, but it smells like the death star is exploding, and there aren't enough escape pods for us storm troopers.

an auspicious beginning

I don't assume that anyone but my friends will ever check out my newly found little corner of the internet, but for those of you who aren't familiar with this Bettie Bitchface character, I will break it down for you. I was raised in a working class suburb of Boston by a cop and a mammographer. So I've got a problem with authority and very healthy breasts. I grew up the middle of 5 kids, the majority of those 5 were sexy and popular cheerleader types...I was not in the majority. Growing up awkward amid a gaggle of blond, peppy pretty people, I always stood out for all the wrong reasons. So, I created a little world for myself filled with horror movies, overdramatic journal entries, and loud, disturbing music. I eventually found a few weirdos who were willing to be friends with my lame ass, we made music, wrote bad poetry, and hung out in old warehouses. Eventually I went to Emerson for creative writing, though I never had the confidence that I was actually any good. From there...I'm not sure what happened. There was a lot of pot involved. And some really bad goth shows. I was a travel agent, a makeup artist, a one woman complaint department, just drifting, trying out different personas, none seemed to fit...but I didn't really care, no plan-no problem. Now I'm a little older, a little wiser, and a lot experienced in the ways of the world. My life is more in focus now than it ever has been, I have a job that I love and I'm actually good at it. I'm focused on my health and making myself a better person inside and out. I'm pushing myself to write, and I'm pushing myself to try things I was always afraid to. It's true though, I am a bettie bitchface. I don't suffer fools gladly, my dna doesn't allow it. I am allergic to bullshit and will not let sleeping assholes lie. I do want to be a kind person, but my evil mind takes over- I'm conflicted...but who the fuck isn't? I'm still on that road to being the person I know I can be, I AM JUST A SQUIRREL TRYIN TO GET A NUT Y'ALL.

goals du jour

GLAMOUR

WILL POWER

KINDNESS

Do me a favorito, check out my radio show at http://www.959watd.com/ every Sunday night from 9 to 10pm (listen live holmes!) My sex therapist cousin and I drop knowledge on the dirty South Shore every week... We talk about sex, relationships, whale genitalia, you name it. We just moved to a later timeslot, so things will get even racier now that all the kinder will be in bed.

rocketing in to the 21st Century

Are you happy, Jenike? I've started a blog...now you're really in for it.