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Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
Because everyone needs a good dicking once in a while. <3

Things To DO!
  1. Paint! Or, at least draw something worth while, and color it. :D
  2. Go smoke.
  3. Get some hot pockets. exercise. ;n;
  4. Go find something awesome to send to Aaron.
  5. Make someone smile.
Can she do it?! Why, fuck yeah! I can. But, I will be defeated if I don't charge my iPoo'd first. That would fucking suck. . . . You know what else sucks? My dinosaur picture. I left it with my ex, for safe keeping. . . Now I want it, badly. I wonder if I'll ever get it back? Or, if he burned it. (more than likely. *sob*)

Alright! Now, I'm off! Have a wonderfry day!
mood: amusedamused
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
18 April 2010 @ 05:47 pm
My screen is the blank canvas I've been trying to paint in real life.

Work sucks; I hate pancakes. Isn't it noticable from my angry, and angst postings? I always wished I had some strange thing to brood upon - like fixing cameras! I'd love to be a God at fixing cameras. But, sadly, my talents lay in the artistic, drawing - painting - musing, categories.

Why am I not satisfied with it? I don't know. Maybe because I've been letting my brushes and paints rot. I have doodled. Oh, I've doodled. But, I cannot bring myself to lift my brush and create like my life depended on it. I've got a heavy heart just thinking about it.

Work contributes. When I think of work, all I want to do is lay down, and do nothing. It allows me to purchase things, but it doesn't allow me the artistic freedoms that I require. Silly, right? I work between six and twelve hours a day - and when I'm finished, all my ideas lay at the bott'em on someone's syrup container. Like a bird - there it goes! Down the drain, as I wash my hands for the eighteenth time today!

My only real relaxant is this smell. It's hard to explain - but - marigolds. One sweet wiff of that, and I'm less cynical and mean, and more. . . Me. I want a garden to work in! I want to be able to relax in the sun, watching the fruits of my labor! I want to be able to paint my work, and enjoy is. 

Truthfully, I have no idea what I want. I just know of a lot of what I don't want. That is a good start, isn't it?
mood: tiredtired
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
Scene: Denny's of Fucking Hillybilly Barely North of the Mexican Border, Texas. I'm the only white girl, and the only other vegetarian I've met within the last six months. If you recall, I was vegan for a while.

I'm at the register, cashing a lady out. We've got a shit-ton of new people who can't understand the concept of saying, "HIA DER TAKE A SEAT I GET YOU DRINKS NOA K?" and just kinda put their tails between their legs and whimper, and hide. So, now, I have to cash out about five people, and seat about five parties. Cashing out takes no time at all, a simple, "I'll be able to get you all seated in a moment," gets me an angry, 'oh fuck, you expect me to be patient?' eye roll from some Mexican man who looks like he just hopped the fence.

Lucky me, he decides to sit in my section (along with five others. . . fffff-). I get his drinks. He DEMANDS, not asks, says, "you must bring me this NOW, or. . ." so I do. He's not the first dick I've dealt with, nor the last. He's pleased, at least for the moment, now that he has drinks.

Now, I have to deal with the other people, "I'll be right -" and he says, "no you wont, you're going to take my order, NOW." . . .

"Kay. What can I get for you, sir?"
"My son will take an omelet." (etc, etc, he doesn't let his grown son talk, or make any choices.)
"Okay, and for you?"
"well, I want the same thing. But I refuse to eat it, if its got more than just veggies. So, extra mushroom. And, don't cook it in butter, I'm vegan."
(insert me hiding a WTF face) "Okay, sir, and for your side?"
"You drench everything in butter. I'll take the fruit, if that's not slathered in it too."

I walk away, not having the heart to explain to him that eggs aren't vegan. Fast forward to a few minutes later, I'm stuck cashing people out, and sitting people again. Someone runs my food to him for me. He gets toast. He didn't want toast. He literally throws the toast at the poor kid. "I didn't order this shit. Take it back, NOW."

Okay, so our new kid is now traumatized, and I'm sick of it. I get the manager, and he comes out to try and smooth shit over, blah blah blah. Everyone is telling me about the other shit the Mexiterian did. We lol, so do our regulars who think this dude probably have a tiny dick.

Fast forward after he demands more coffee, and more of this and that, and calls me a servant bitch (I lol'd at him, and replied, "you don't know the half of it," that made him make a face I can only explain as: O_o;; ). He's at the register, and now telling the manager he refuses to pay because of shitty service.

Management says: "You chased off every server except Dollie, and that's because the only thing that bothers her are CHILDREN. But, you're acting like one, and starting to annoy our good customers. You're going to pay, or I'm going to call the cops. And by the way - I'm vegan, you Wet Back (he's mexican too), eggs are not fucking vegan."

The man paid. He left. He didn't leave me a tip. And now you know why vegan eggs are awesome.

Mexiterian: Dollie Slang for Mexican Vegetarian; also see rampant asshole.
mood: amusedamused
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
   Everyone knows. It's oh-so painfully obvious. If you don't know, you're out of the loop.
   Have no idea what I'm speaking of? Well, work in the 'hospitality' careers, and you'll soon be the writer of your own ennui journal entries of idiotic things people happen to do. It isn't much of a surprise that people are not the smartest (refer to lemming, noun), or even the most note-worthy on many occasions. But, when it happens. . .
   And, it happens. . . .

   I'd like to start out this entry with informing my (nonexistent) audience of my line of duty. I am called the 'Front of House.' My job is to kiss your ass. And at two dollars and fifty some odd cents an hours (as a server) I shall do so at my own leisure. Mostly, I run around the place like a mad-man to get some exercise, and maybe get some bonus points (if you're not in the industry, we call them thar 'tips') for that fancy trick I can do with balancing food, drinks, and condiments all on the same tray and serve at the same time.
   My other job as FOH (keep up with me people, refer to above if you're lacking in brain power), is a host. Or, hostess, as I don't have much of a penis (it's rubber). This means, I get pissy when you seat your fat, lazy lard asses down in my restaurant without caring if this could fuck up the people who would be serving you. Other than that, I get paid a nice seven fifty to get yelled at about how crappy your food service was, so I can shut you up with the word, "FREE."
   I deal with other minimum wage employees, which makes my day bright and shiny. And, yes, if you're curious if your waiter, or waitress thinks you suck balls, chances are, yes. S/he's talking major shit about you to the other kids in the back. Oh yes, it's high school all over again. Except this time, we wont spit in your hair, or piss in your drinks. We'll smile, and hope you didn't hear what we said about your cellulite, so you'll tip us better.

   So, now that we covered the basics, I'll get to the real important stuff. Like, you. Yes, you. The reader (or, lack there-of). The one who walks in, with good intentions, but decides that, your bacon isn't crispy enough. No, it's still not crispy enough. And now the eggs are cold. Oh, you're making it over again? Thanks, but it's still crap. Oh, and you don't have >insert random drink I've never even heard of before<? We'll fuck that noise. I'm just going to walk out without paying - you know who you are. I can't stand you. You make me want to blender babies, with a bit of rosemary, and a little spinach.
   It's not because food cost is a factor - no. That bacon, and those eggs cost about seventy five cents all together (it's called direct buying). It's because, you run us around with false hopes, lay us down, real nice and easy, and leave us with the burden. . . The burden of telling. . . The Boss.
   The Boss doesn't like losing money. It makes him look bad. And when he doesn't look the part - who suffers? Usually, the next person down. But, restaurants have this awesome pecking order. Boss sits over everyone. Then, supervisor over everyone else. Everyone else sits over any wacko religious nimrods (another story for another time). So, when Boss isn't happy - we hear it. And, typically it's our fault. In our establishment, we have to explain why these things happen in a nice little three to four sentence essay. But, when three or four of these happen, well, hope it not your service, and it's the kitchen's fault.
   By, defying the Law of the Lard (from the point on, this shall be what we call Boss, restaurant, and all supervisor types), Lard gets pissy. Like, 'I'm-about-to-start-my-period,' (Or, the worse, and lesser known, 'I-haven't-had-a-period-yet-and-may-need-to-trip-down-some-stairs,') pissy. And Lard likes it when it works. And what Lard wants, Lard gets. So, enough of these stupid little walk outs, and we start to lose some hours. And, for a server, at our oh-so-high labor cost, tip = life.
   Though, I must admit, for Lard being such a Big Brother type, he's pretty good at what he does. You pull enough of these little eat-n-runs, Lard gets wise. He is omniscient, and all knowing (redundancy!) and will eventually end up having the same high school moments as the server. And, tell you to GTFO. Or, at least not let you have stuff for free.
  So, please, stupid-unknowing-customer. Do it for the server. Don't be a douche. Oh, was there a moral to this story? No. Not really. I needed to lay the stone work for the next installment. For those with a sadistic nature - stay tuned!

XO, Dahlia
mood: amusedamused
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
27 December 2009 @ 07:41 pm
So, instead of being a good girl and not spending my money, I went and bought me a nice pack of googly eyes. I can't stand it! I love them soo much. I already have brought several inanmiate objects to life (like a cup of mine, and my poor unspecting father's cellphone), & more than likely, will continue to do so. I kinda want to make a googly eye'd pen. But, I'm refraining. I don't think my work could deal with it.

So! Who is happy about the new year? I know I am! I've made some plans, and am excited to announce getting a car (wooooooo). I thought I'd list my goals for the new year, as well as expectations. It's always nice to have them in a few different places, since I'm wonderful at losing things.
  1. Get in shape! I have proved that, in shape, I should only weigh about 100 pounds. I'm at 115, again, so, I need to start running, and stuff.
  2. Ballet! I do love me some pointe.
  3. Make at least 3 reallllyyy nice dresses. Yup, I'm sick of buying stuff at the store.
  4. Make some stuff to sell! I wish I could make a living off of my creations. I dislike working with food!
  5. Make management! Too bold? Screw you!
  6. Pokeman Games! I want to get at least 2 shinies. I suck at chaining. Hahaha.
  7. Finally! I'd like to get my butt back in school in the fall. That should be enough time to dick around, don't you agree?
I would love to hear what the rest of you have in store! Share with me!
XO, Dahlia
mood: bouncybouncy
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
22 December 2009 @ 01:23 am
Hey look! It's meee!Does this mean I'm famoose? Not quiet yet! But, enjoy the video our friends at the Desoto Institute of Problemology have created for us, and be thankful! Merry Christmas or whatever the hell you decide to celebrate this year, and I'll open the new year with a simple how-to on a circle skirt. Savvie?
XO, Dahlia
mood: sleepysleepy
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
14 December 2009 @ 10:19 pm
Or, at least thats what my room looks like. Pumpkins and Christmas decor! I love it! I even went as so far as to get a little pink sparkly santa hat for me, and a sequinned collar for my cat. The halls are decked, the trimmings are out, and all that's left is to hang the stockings with care. It's been a weird ride getting to this point. I recall last year so clearly! (God, San Fran was sooo beautiful.)

Anyway, my birthday is in a few days. The night before I'm going with Sandy to see her son perform in a body building competition. The next day, I'm dressing in all pink, and celebrating my graceful aging at my Aunt's with my family. Christmas will be beautiful, for me. It's the first one I'm really excited about (not to mention I'm getting the most AMAZING sewing machine!) and not broke for. Kinda. Right now, I've got just under $5 in my bank account. Thank God I work tomorrow!

By Feburary I should have a car (I want a Jeep or Ford. . .), and by May, a shiny new laptop. Things are working well for me. Now, if only I could bag that one boy. . . Hahaha.

As for romantic life - let's avoid that topic all together. It's a bad math problem, really. If 7 boys try to fuck Dollie, and Dollie will only give 2 a chance, and only 1 is really potential relationship material, who is X? Did I mention I failed math, on a account I slept through all four years of that class?

Anyway. As soon as I get my sewing machine, I'll start posting some real nice tutorials. Promises.

XOXO, Dahlia
mood: cheerfulcheerful
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
10 November 2009 @ 05:26 pm

Today is going to be a short entry. If you've got a stiffie for fashion, go to Polyvore and sign up already! It lets you coordinate all kinds of fun things. I like to sit and just play, and make an art set out of it, once in a while. It's all colors, and clothes at your finger tips. Get going! polyvore.com!
mood: mischievousmischievous
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
02 November 2009 @ 09:51 pm
Boom Shell Red?

Look! I mades a coordination! Be proud, mkay? You be proud now. D:<

For starters, I'm sorry I couldn't get it all under a cut. I tried and tried, and I want to ask talashira , whom I text for all my computer anonmollies, because, frankly, I've given up on being computer literate. It's a lot harder than I thought it was! I'm content at being able to check my mail and play neopets sometimes.

Secondly, Today was a red day. And, it felt good to admit I'm firey, and ready to rumble (and need a lover!). I 'd love to just strut around in this (and soon will!), just to see the looks on people's faces. They already look at me oddly for having a vintage-ie look. Or, smiling. Or, just being me. It's a lovely thing! These folks down here no nothing about style. I has the sad.

Oh, and an update on the Buxon makeup that I posted about two or three times ago? Still wonderful, I have no reactions, except my vision gets a little blurry when I put it on. Ehh, but it's not irratating. I suspose I should teach ya'll how to do the victory curl in your hair, mm?

Well, let's start!
  1.  It's easier to start with pre-curled hair, like with pin-curls, or sponge curlers, or some such. I like both methods, tho, each one is a bit hard to master. Sponge rollers look different, and pin-curls if you don't do them right, you get random curls going odd ways. So, find whats easy for you, or try without curled hair.
  2. You want it damp. It's easier to work with, for starters. And the hair spray, or gel, or lotion will help it hold better, and longer.
  3. Don't fret trying to get the other side to look exactly the same, otherwise you'll be there for ages. I'm better with the left side than the right, so I start with the right, always.

See? Pre-curled. This is ideal. From here, comb forward the front half of your hair that you'll be using. You can keep it parted in the middle, or when you get better, go nuts, and try it ever which way. Some people like it parted to the side.

Comb it upwards with the round brush to get all the hair going in a uniform direction. The more you comb, the less curl it'll have to it, which is okay, if you like fighting your hair. I do it a couple of times, just to make sure it's smooth, and all that crap. Wet it down a little, if you're doing it with dry hair, to get all the strays in order.

Now, hold the hair by the ends, so it looks a bit like this. You want to twist it around your finger, so the hair is going under your finger, away from you. This way, you can pinch it with your thumb and pointer finger.

See? Pinchy pinchy.



So, now, you want to get your pointer out of the loop, and pinch the loop of it doesn't unravel. You don't want to twist it, or do anything funny with it, otherwise you're going to have shitty looking victory rolls. And it just plain sucks to comb that straight, 'cause it knots easily that way.

Roll end-over-end, until you get to your scalp. Don't twist! Roll. They don't call it the victory twist, it's a victory ROLL.

Now, play some strategic bobby pins about (I only need three on a bad day). I used white ones so you could see where I placed mine. Sometimes I place one in the back of the roll, to make it look fuller, too.

And, tada! Victory Roll! You can place a snog over the rest of your hair, so it stays in place, or you can leave it down, and brush it until it's shiney, and wavy. Whatever you decide to do, add some chucky beads for a 50's flair, and some awesome shade of red lipstick (I like mine darker). You're good to go!
mood: chipperchipper
Miss Cannibal Dahlia // Solecism
31 October 2009 @ 01:32 am
So, my secret obession is Lady Gaga. Not because she's fucking nuts (which is a damn plus), or her style (yes plz on most of what she wears), or her music. . . . Okay, so now you're going, "What the fuck, Doll Face? You don't like her for all the obvious reasons? Don't make us dive into the obsurcity!" Oh, hohoho. We shall.

And, dive, we are: She chased her passion even when people told her to GTFO. Ohh, that's a lame reason, right? Wrong. She was signed, and dropped, and she kept kicking. I think after something like that, I'd freaking explode - and now she has. Everywhere. Even my 63 year old dad wants Lady Gaga's cock. It's fantastic.

Oh, so, right. The reason I'm posting something here, is to annoucnce that I'm taking up the body modifaction's position at South Ink, and I'll also be training my butt to be an artist. That's right! A tattoo artist. And you're like, "wtf does this have to do with Gaga?" Well, my lemmings-for-readers, everything. This IS my dream. I chased it for five fucking years in California, and it took me coming home, and giving up to get it. Thanks, God!

("Hey, uh, God, can we cash in my other karma cookies? I'd like to order a lightening bolt to Ventura, California - uh, oh? You're busy? Damn.")

I'll also be releasing my little Voodoo Runts (and eventually showing you how to make your own), as well as starting to make my own clothes (and sell them!), all while working at Denny's, and getting my Business Degree. I might not sleep much in the next few years.

xoxo, Dollz

mood: excitedexcited