EATSKEET / half in love with you

I am living with some virginal dude with craze OCD and some sorta other mental ish going on. He has been totally stressed out during this heat wave due to the fact I am been wearing a bikini for the past week.

I like sleeping alone. I like doing my thing. The “I don’t date” thing works really well for getting out of awkward boy situations. I have no interest in 99 percent of the boys who approach me. So it becomes my sort of get out of jail free card. I have a few boys that I am really close with and have been for years. They are all dateable. They would be my boyfriend in a hot second, if i just asked. I enjoy knowing that, sort of flirting with them, and hanging out with them when i feel so inclined. I sort of keep them around waiting for the day i grow out of this, the day I am ready to sleep in a bed next to someone every night. The day my ADD becomes under control and I am at least 90 percent sure I won’t cheat on them. The day has not yet come. Lately, I worry it won’t ever come.

A few months ago, I ended up in a cab with a boy I didn’t really know. I tried to introduce myself. He sort of hostilly nodded, “I know who you are. I am a friend of __________.” Weiterlesen »

Damn the fucking drama. Apparently, me blogging on both Iheartcomix and Dimmak is stressing some people out. MLK died for this kinda shitz. Peace on earth DJs. Stop stressing. This is like neutral territory. Ill throw my thoughts around here with out riots or some sorta world of warcraft spectacle on the streets on the internet.

I am not a dj, but if i was i would exclusively play bitch anthems. Here’s my playlist.

Riskay-Smell yo dick
Meshell Ndegeocello- If that’s your boyfriend, he wasn’t last night
En Vogue- Free your Mind
Wendy Ho-Bitch i stole your purse
Miss B- Bottle Action
Lady Gaga- Dirty Ice Cream
Uffie- Dismissed
MC Luscious -Boom I got your boyfriend

Feel free you add your own. I know I am missing some good ones.

Sarah Morrison’s reality show

One might call it the search for the next me…I am just saying I am looking for some lady bloggers.

Email two (100-200 word) submissions, one from each category below.

Send them to me at Sarah@missbehavemag.com I am gonna recommend that home-girl from Rose’s blog, BMoore, and the rest of you see you next tuesdays not apply, due to their hatred of me, my age, and grammar. k thx bai.

Again Please submit TWO entries.

1 from each category below:

topic 1 (choose 1)

-Remy ma and Papoose’s upcoming Riker’s Wedding ceremony

-A review of those new Kraft Bagel-fuls frozen bagels stuffed with cream cheese things.

-Is Lil Mama 16 or 36, discuss.

-I buy my toilet paper at Target I don’t care about your low-budget designer line, (blah blah whoever you are giant famous designer.)

topic 2 (chose 1)

-An account of the last dude you slept with.

-Your first experience trying to get a Tampon into the vag.

-An evening you were unable to remember until it was pieced together by friends.

Again, send all submissions to Sarah@missbehavemag.com

If you are east coast come to this tomorrow night. Happy 50th to the mass appeal boys. They is older than me!

You should be over at Missbehave. I talk about losing my virginity, my period, wes, and bitches i hate over there.

Pick up the new mag for me on Heatherette NYC fashion and cruises…

I was kind of bummed I didn’t go this year. This video from last year makes up for it.

Denise and Anas hotel room circa 5am. We have already been threatened to be kicked out twice by hotel security. They are back knocking at the door. Classic.

I had a certain boy/dj/boy booked for a video shoot i was doing for a certain magazine i work for. Game was on for Monday, early evening and had been for two weeks or so. We talked on Saturday and everything was chill. Sunday night i texted him to remind him and got nothing back. i still assumed he was coming and down. We were ready to go at *said* magazine. I called, i texted, and i BBMed. I received nothing back at all. I assumed i had “done something” like i had written some article or blog in the past he had just discovered. He was googling “______ and Sarah Morrison,” and the results were unfavorable. He was pissed and not speaking to me. Monday rolled by. I left him alone. Wednesday or so, I did type on Ichat asking him why he hated me and what exactly i had done. I received no response at all. It’s been close to a month. He called today cause i told him to “fuck off” via Ichat. When i said he pissed me off by fucking up the mag thing, he seemed irritated. He got annoyed and literally said, “Sarah, i can’t do this. I will call you back.”

steve aoki is a serious tool that scored with a rich daddy with some sleezy chain restaurants. might i mention the super cool green headphones he has too. i think they pretty much lifted up sarah morrison’s skirt, took a good look around a few swabs at sarah morrison’s filthy VAG and then decided on a color from there. it’s all the rage in japan/pacoima/SFV/echo park.

yeah fuck me running pussy lickers. youre shit stinks like shit.
“this is sarah morrison on having a dirty beat up pussy”

-some dumb blogspot

sometimes i feel like the internet ruined my life. then sometimes i realized high school was like this too.

I know there are a few girls here. So Missbehave is the only legit girls mag around. I am writing for them and blogging daily over at their site. Go check it out and get a subscription so you can read the shiny real version too.

oh and katy perry i was kidding. i wasnt really blaming you for the death of my cat. the fact i have to actually type that write now seems like you should have gotten that?!? seriously never met you and guessed you had moved from somewhere. sorry, no more cat jokes, check!

xo

Trevor-I met Trevor working the door Tuesdays at Cinespace. (Steve Aoki later fired me for “not collecting any money and just talking to boys.” He then had to pay me to just socialize upstairs. So I talked to boys upstairs and they collected more money downstairs, apparently. I got to talk to Trevor more. He was part of the beginning of Hush Hush aka “my first party,” and most others involved. Trevor DJed and made our flyer each month for free. Other DJs who were getting paid, bitched and wrote me crazy emails demanding insano amounts of money that we were not making. Trevor never asked for a thing. Finally, we started to make enough money to pay more of the people involved. The first person I knew deserved it was Trevor. When I say, “pay” maybe I gave him a hundred bucks. He could have cared, which was awesome. That’s Trevor. He’s just an awesome dude, not fronting at all. I talk to Trevor/have something I need to talk to Trevor about at least once a day. I have no idea how that happened. I think it might have been one too many trips to Cactus.

Russ-I woke up hung over one Wednesday morning, after some Tuesday night that ended when it was light out. I check my voicemail and I have this bitchy ass message from some dude who I deemed “Steve Aoki’s intern,” but later became know as “Russ.” The message is super serious and accuses me of stealing some dumb Dim Mak collection sample shirt or hoodie or something, I would never want. Apparently, I “stole” it from Steve’s office the previous evening. I call Steve furious, bitching about his intern accusing me of stealing some dumb ass shit. He tries to defend himself saying “Russ” was told to call everyone from the previous evening. He kept trying to explain that he did not think I/my friends stole the item, but he just needed to scare everyone to find the person who did. I am pissed/offended/hungover and keep interrupting his dumb explanations by swearing at him. I finally scream over him, “I was wearing a 400 dollar dress last night. I didn’t steal your dumb-ass dinosaur print shit” I then hung up, decided I hated Russ, and went back to sleep. “Russ” introduced himself to me the next week. He was neither a 17-year-old intern nor asshole. We have been friends ever since. I have screamed at Russ and “cried at” Russ, when over stressed. One afternoon at Cinespace after crying/yelling at Russ on the phone, I told him to hold on while I could scream at Stuart. Stuart wouldn’t speak to me for two hours. I finally apologized to Stuart. He made me call Russ to say “Sorry,” too. Russ loves me “even though I am crazy.”

(Oh, Trevor gets the same credit for the yelling/crying crazy toleration of me. Both these boys are legit and I love them to death.)

Rony-Rony starts like Trevor. He came to Cinespace Tuesdays. The door dude would “confiscate his camera equipment. I would “hold onto it.” I would go grab a drink upstairs and give it to him. Like Mark, Rony made fun of me everytime he took my picture because I always looked the same. Rony got mad at Julie and me for leaving him at the boring ass Nylon crap and going to “fun places” at SXSW. He then seemed angrier at the fact we returned drunk. He would sort of get mad when I showed up to events; he was in need of Julie’s help on. He had this huge line of drunken dessert of weirdos, in line waiting for their photos at the Filter thing at Coachella. We had just gotten there from LA. He had a mirror, in the corner behind all his stuff. He was too busy too notice I was lying on the ground in front of it, using it to do my make-up for at least fifteen minutes. He should have yelled at me earlier.

Le Disko-Le Disko was one of those kids I saw everywhere, talked to, and had no idea who the hell he was. I had no idea about the DJing or whatever else homeboy entails. We made strange conversation everytime we saw each other. I seriously did not know his name until the last month I was in LA. Frankie Chan told me who he was. I nodded to Franki, realizing i was completely retarded, “That totally makes sense. I should really ask people their names.”

Katy Perry-Never met her. I don’t think she lived in LA, until recently. I secretly hate her. Actually no I actually hate her, no secret. All her Myspace photos are of her and her cat. They are like BFFs. Its like Katy in formalwear with her cat. Then Katy and her cat in matching Pajamas. This used to be me. It is not anymore. My cat died. My roommate killed her/let her out. She got hit by a car. She was my best friend in the entire world. Katy makes me think about that, cry hysterically, and then remember how awesome it was to find my cat dead in the driveway. Thanks Katy!

Cisco Adler-My attorney has suggested I type “pass.”

I ignored everyone else, on said list. I will presume, they are prolly like um sorta famous people Trevor forced to realize they were “born to be writers.” They prolly got busy with thier Facebook’s and bailed.

This week I watched Gossip Girl. Through the entire 13 hours, all I could think about was how bad I wanted to make out with Chuck. I kept telling myself it was “cool.” These teenage actors are always 35. Um he is barely 20. I am officially creepy.

missbehave valentines semi-formal friday night!

jacket required.

The last time the Patriots won the Super Bowl, I feared for my life. The second the game ended people started running out their doors, beers in hand, screaming obscenities in Boston accents. They seemed unclear what to do with all their energy. Neighbors who had never even spoken to one another, clashed their beer cans together, and became brothers. Their arguments about who shoveled out which parking spot and who was responsible for the abandoned mattress on the sidewalk were long forgotten. The Patriots has just won the Superbowl. Everything was forgiven.

Together they would attempt to tip over every single car in Boston together, as one.

We watched the whole thing from our seemingly safe second floor window. Together our drunken neighbors chanted the cars description i.e. “Green car Green car, “ Then ten of them would drunkenly attempt to tip over the green vehicle, unsuccessfully. They moved onto to their next target “Gold sedan Gold sedan,” again with no luck. The whole debacle continued for close to a half hour. It climaxed as they approached a white 15-passenger van. My roommates and I grabbed another drink and marveled as they chanted “Big Van Big van.” They gave up and headed down to Fenway at this point, where people were actually trying to kill one another.

I spent Sunday evening, driving from Boston to New York. I listened to the game on the radio. At that 2-minute mark, part of me wished I had stayed to witness what mayhem it seemed was about to ensue. When that game ended, I will say I was glad I wasn’t there.

I certainly hope Tom Brady’s car was not parked on the street