Sunday, December 6, 2009

Catering to Those With Upside Down Eyeballs.

Fucked Up Cupcake Dog.



















Here he comes.
Grr.

Bitch Lips.

The other week I took it upon myself to google my name and came across some very disheartening information. I found a link to a "contest" I applied to in hopes of winning some insane amount of money that I would surely blow on 5" stiletto boots or a sequined garment of some sort. Nonetheless, this site contained pictures I myself supplied. At the time, I figured this wouldn't be google-able. You googley. Googley boogley. Yet it was and it came equipped with an "Add your comment" section. As I read on, I learned many numerous things about myself including that I am "too skinny" and I that my lips protrude when I take pictures. This I am aware of. Fuckers. Yeah you, fat fucks you. But my poochy lip action is triggered by a camera lens. I can not control this for I have had this condition for many years.

Examples:
High School Bitch Lips:



















Bitch Lips Circa 2004























Present day Bitch Lips:















As I browse through photos of my brothers, I am beginning to believe that this may be hereditary. Could this poochy lipness stem from my Italian descent? Could it just be a Bronx thing? Whatever it may be, I have proof of this through my brothers' self photography via the BlackBerry camera sessions. Let's take a look:

Here we have older brother:




























Older photo demonstrating simultaneous sibling bitch lippin' in motion:


















Next we have the youngest of us all. This one is popular with the ladies. The poochy lip gene is now beginning to show as he blossoms into a grown, gym addicted, stud muffin of some sort.






























So that basically sums up why I can not control what occurs with my lips when prompted to pose. I have since deleted myself from that contest and moved on and learned from this experience and grew and now I am stronger and wiser and believe in women's rights and PETA and donate my eggs for women incapable of bearing children and give my seat to the elderly and handicapped on the N6 and went Green and took interest in purchasing a Hybrid.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Monday, November 2, 2009

So This Is the Newest Thing In Fashion: The Harem Pant.









































According to the photos, there's already been three whole people resorting themselves to this.
Looks like your vagina just gave out and quit and remained at knee level.

I Just Can't Shut the Fuck Up Today.

So I bought one of those sexy-slutty-Halloween-costumes-in-a-plastic-bag that no one is ever allowed to try on. It was 65% off and it was patent leather. Thus, I needed it. It's of a French Maid and I'm not going to post pictures because this isn't MySpace and this does nothing for my boobs. Anyway, it came with a doofy hat thing and I feel as though I look more like a whore chef than anything. I don't know why I waste my money on such shit. I could've bought like 45 yogurts instead.
I wonder how completely awkward it would be to bring up as much cringe worthy shit to the counter person at Rite Aid? Like super plus absorbency tampons, a pregnancy test, 36 count adult size suppositories, Vagisil, hot when you blow on it lube and a buy one get one free enemas. There are times in life where you need to purchase one of those things, in which case you sort of look around the bend and see if anyone from High School, an ex, or someone you would sleep with is near your vicinity. Then you quickly grab your item and conceal it with your coat/bag/US Weekly magazine and run to the oldest, most senile looking counter woman who you know can't read the label because the letters are too small. Then you bring it home and hide it in your sock drawer. Except for the tampons. Now imagine all of that? I should do that and then attempt to return everything the next day and see how awkward life can get.

Candice Engel bleaching the bathtub on a Friday night. Ow!
Fri at 11:39pm via Facebook for BlackBerry.

Friday, September 11, 2009

I Dream Of Food Stamps.

I do. I stay up every night imagining perusing down each aisle of every grocery store in my neighborhood and grabbing any item I desire. Like name brand ketchup. And V8.
Then I go into the "What if?" portion of my subconscious.
"You can't buy gum with that?"
"Why?"
"Because it doesn't qualify as food."
"Huh?"
"It's not food."
"You chew it. It has flavor. It's food."
"Yeah but you don't swallow it."
"I've heard people swallow it. Kids do it all the time. I've seen it happen."
"No."
"Fine."

Monday, June 1, 2009

Since I Currently Have No Creative Writing Skills...

Here's something from July of 2004:

Why I love the summer:

I thoroughly enjoy walking through a film of heat, which we call air, after I spend 25 minutes perfecting my eyeliner and tending to my skin.
I love Saturdays and Sundays when the F train decides it's going to take a shit and have people wait for it to come strolling along every 12-15 minutes. Leaving me in the depths of underground, unventilated hell. Then when I eventually enter the train, the temperature of 54 degrees hits me in the face and almost sends me into shock.

I love the summer. Summer's rad.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

If I Had Facebook....













RECENT ACTIVITY
Candice ate a grape.
Candice is now extending her arm
Candice is attending the event OBGYN in Franklin Square (March 29th)
4 people like this
Candice walked into Rite Aid and bought antibiotics and gum
Candice is now friends with Her Mother
Candice's Mother: CAN! ARE YOU COMING TO THE BRONX FOR DINNER ON FRIDAY? BY THERE AT 11AM BECAUSE I NEED TO GO GIVE GRANDMA HER MEDS SO EAT DINNER WHEN YOU WAKE UP FOR MOMMY, OK? I LOVE YOU, LOVE MOMMY.
Candice joined the group I Have No Cable TV and A Lack Of Hobbies

Monday, March 16, 2009

On a recent trip to Walgreens to examine multiple hair colors that I'd like to try but won't because I don't feel like damaging my hair again, I saw a girl in a puffy coat and REINDEER pajama pants walking in the Maybelline section. For some reason, I find the idea of actually sporting pajamas with 800 reindeer floating in all sorts of directions in public extremely intriguing for I do not have the balls to do this myself. I began to discreetly follow her and even attempted to take her picture but I think she caught on when she heard my heels that no longer have heel caps and/or perhaps seen my reflection in one of those overhead, shoplifter mirrors. Then I started to feel creepy and as though I was in the same boat as a balding man with intense ear hair and flip flops and turned around. Sheepishly.