Below are the 3 most recent journal entries recorded in monicapa's LiveJournal:

Monday, June 14th, 2004
4:58 pm	more - this week. eh. you smell like ass. carlos doesn't want to F me anymore. what happened? did i lose too much weight (frown, fake sad) this weekend was sort of everything and nothing, you know. friday, flew in, sat around, met zack at beauty bar, bought him japo snacks for his bday; said offensive stuff to him, per usual. jay showed up and then off to lit to dance to daft punk with ili and cat. everyone thinks im more wasted than i really am. in truth, im bored and attempting to amuse myself, hence the purse on the head dance routine. felt cheated and went home. sat: eh. (see, im in love with male model. my recap of my weekend sans male models is a black hole of charm and happiness. plus im wasted and had bad empty sex last night, hence _, ehs). went with sam and his sister to dumont for breakfest. had this omlet with smoked salmon and goat cheese. sam had these potatoes with sundried tomatoe aoilie. SO yum. then discount designer shopping. nothing. bought 7 jeans and then got them shortened to way too short. there goes that. watched episode of sex in the city where carrie's wonderful writer bf breaks up with her bc he can't stand her being more successful than him. and the world nods with understanding. wtf. i've resigned to the fact that i will never be happy again. if boys really can't deal with dating successful women, and so i have to date up, then i need to (1) stop doing drugs in the gutter; and (2) only have sex in clean grown-up bathrooms. then kiran ditched me, shocking, and went with jay and claudia to delancy for the afterparty of that shout show. eh. like, everyone and no one, you know. lots of music people, baby interpoler, the kills (hi, jamie doesn't blink. he's a human pug dog.), ian syvanous (listen, i can't spell the word omelet, don't start), and the usual (e.g. aurelio, ili, cat, shout dudes, nate, homeless people, acke -- mind is going blank). felt successful about getting claudia to drink on antibiotics. sun: eh. went to brunch at enids with brandon and talked about how his life is hella TRL. grocery shopped in greenpoint at little polish markets. unsuccessfully combed the place for this polish cream cheese that im obsessed with. its called, like, etpifhsleialoowseishka, or something. so delicious. rode bike around bc it was an almost nice day, then ate pistachio cake, read something, and took 2 hour nap. crazy, surreal dream sequence. woke up and called my sister. went out, called gabe and lamented over the fact that i was walking down the street dressed like a whore (actually, it was a pretty cute outfit, super short backless dress with thigh high boots). SO gang rape. plus it was puerto rician pride day, which, you know, is when the entire city gets hands down, ass up. heh. so, went to shout and talked to zeros. bent over the bar to talk to my friend and showed everyone the new super duper cute paul frank underwear that jay just got me. love them. there's like ducks on the ass and stuff. little penguins. love love love them. then off to black and white where middleager introduced me to her friend danny in the warlocks. being the tactful person that i am, i'm all, "didn't i fuck you while you were on tour once." the whole room collectively looks down. he then disappeared back into the shadows of my mind. while waiting for someone outside, randomly made out with some balding LA guy standing outside talking on the phone. WHAT? god, stop me, i'm like a machine. eh. woke up this morning convinced that i have AIDS. went to work depressed and hung over. no one wrote me emails all weekend. ate peanut butter and sourdough toast. checked in the mirror for herps. all clear! (Comment on this)
4:56 pm	push it i do this weird thing, maybe not so weird, where i love a certain outfit, and thats all i want to wear, and i'll wear it for 5 days straight. and i'll try to wear another outfit, but its just no way as good and i'm so much happier when i give in and put on that outfit on again. which, for white people, would mean social death. but since i'm chinese with very small glands, although i sweat like a fireman, i don't smell. so, enough with the suspense: its a tight gray t-shirt and tight jeans, which shows just a bit of belly, push up bra, flats and dangly earrings. i know . . . do you need a second in the bathroom? maybe. fri - wanted to die at work. tried to go (YET AGAIN) to the deiter roth exhibit at MOMA, and yet again failed because i was too drunk and hung over to walk my miserable immoral self over to queens. tried to nap but was too restless. MALE MODEL CALLED ME!>!>!>!> shocking! its cuz i didn't put out, im certain of that. anyway, met him at parkside lounge, then also jill and brandon, then to sine to see vietnam and the double. its weird, the guy in vietnam totally loves me and is operating under the delusion that i'm his lawyer. im like, eat shit dude, yr a total heroine addict. where does this shit come from? then off to eleven, where matty was dj-ing, but it was still hella wack. then to b-bar, where there is a vortex connecting it to south jersey. then back to model compound where mm's housemate, a super hot french mm, was on poppers and spawled out on the couch. five mins after we go back to mm's room, we hear a knock on his door, and its the french mm whispering to mm. no reader, stop the porno base line in yr head; there is no male model gang bang. the french mm brought in his i-pod stereo and said, "it is better with music" - set it up and left, that is, after warming my heart. sat - woke up happy, smoked cigarettes with the french mm, who, by the way, is like the top model in france. he's dated TWO ms. frances! i know, like for two separate years, two different editions. my mm and the french mm were walking around the kitchen and drinking coffee WITH THEIR SHIRTS OFF. omg. my mm is a boxing champ and the french mm is a master of kung fo. i wonder who would win in a fight. i wonder if the fight could involve baby oil. er, whatever. off to the met museum and looked at stuff. people tapped their friend, and then turned to look at us. when i left him on the subway platform, we were kissing and joking and i pulled away to leave. i looked around and noticed a group of people looking at us, and one girl said to me, "you two are SO hot." couldn't stop smiling to myself, went home, slept, ate dumplings, called mm and we talked on the phone for two hours while watching the stanley cup together, but separate. then my insatiable social appetite got the better of me and i met jay at the pj harvy thing at pianos but couldn't get in. i did, however, wait in the bathroom line with pj, she cut bc she had to play soon. and seeing how i think her songs are actually sort of annoying, that was probably the best thing that i could have gotten from going to her show anyway. then, to the hole, which is super good, i don't know why we don't go there anymore. and then to misshapes, for ben cho's dj thing. vice gavin, chloe s. and natasha L. were there, per usual. danced and had my foot stepped on. home. sun - went to mm's house. french mm and another mm were speaking in french and pointing at me. my three-years of high school french picked up the following: "she can't be a model" "so loud" "maybe when he leaves" thanks, dickheads. then went to central park where mm made the observation: "trees are rad", then to the natural history museum for the observation: "animals are great." ok, im making him sound really bad, actually, he's an environmental studies major talked to me about deforestation while i visually fucked his biceps. then to yummy korean restaurant for bibimbop where i asked the lady to make me a balloon animal, and she ended up making me this elaborate four-balloon heart thing, with a dog and a flower. its arguably romantic in a twisted asian mishy-mishy love token way. went back to mm's house to have loud jack-hammer sex. i hit the bookshelf and knocked over this framed picture, a male model did an impressionist self-portrait painting of himself. i shattered it: the world applauds. went home and set alarm for 2:00 in the morning, the time that i wake up and meet nick for drinks. k, i'm not THAT fanatical/retarded. it wasn't a bad idea initially bc he was getting in at midnight but his flight got delayed - so stop yelling at me. mon - my one hour flight back to syracuse was delayed two and a half hours. showed up at work and did stuff for an hour. now i just want to eat sweets and stalk mm on the internet. um, this has got to be, hands down, the most obnixious web blog that i've ever posted. no one likes a jack ass, especially if that jack ass is gloating about f-ing a male model all weekend. so, sorry haters. i'll be back to biting social criticism next week. promise. 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Friday, June 4th, 2004
1:48 pm	all else fails wed: flew in, went to vice party at delancy with ili, despite my tardiness, the party was to celebrate the party issue. hun. somewhat circular, but ok. met up with kiran, kali and lisa g, open bar was absolute mandarin, which, for me, is open bar perfection; my new drink of choice is mandarin with 7-up, dee-lish! rapture matty, justine, and some other douche was dj-ing. (what? no carlos? shocker!). so i wore a tight maroon striped skirt, beige pumps, and this booty green tank top with a padded bra, which i, of course, INSISTED on talking about. ("... fuckin' punch me in the tits dude") yea, it sort of defeats the purpose of having a padded bra. anyway, the party was medium. its sort of like, everyone and no one was there. then off to plant where i ran into asif out front. he was telling me all these really nice sweet things, and my feeble attempt at saying something nice back was, "asif, you really should take a gay cruise." party foul. see, saying "gay cruise" to a gay man is like calling a black dude a nigger. its ok if other gays say it, but its a total record scratch if a hetero says it. blah. anyway, asif also told me this one amazing story about how he knew these two girls who, while at conchella, took acid and got lost in joshua tree. and i'm all, wow, how very U2. and he's all, "yea, you know, its SO "i still haven't found what im looking for . . . . and, i'm looking for my car." ha! it was supposedly the closing night for plant, and i'm all, um, quit it with the closing parties. i've been to ten closing parties for this stupid bar, fuckin' shut down or shut up. present: beautiful lisa, josh and brandon (tsm) with some hot blonde girl, gabe, matty, max, vito, ili, lauren, rich hippie and his gf, middleager, horney finns, dfa dudes, homeless people, cocaine, hope and lost aspirations, etc. went home and drunk dialed LA. thur: heh. so kiran and i go to this one-yr anniversary party for this modeling agency, One model management, at maritime hotel. thanks jill. um, hi, what self respecting normal girl voluntarily goes to a model party? the dudes at the model party probably want the models, they don't come for the medium cute but super funny. eh. although there were those savory moments when dudes come up to me and kiran and asked us if we were "with One?" no, but thanks for trying. the party was blah. i felt like the dark shylock trolling around with bags of government cheese. ben cho, sweet kelly and faux british guy were the only one i knew there. oh, and ralph lauren. so was about to leave and swear off model parties for forever when i started talking to (er, i suppose the correct term is, "picking up on") this super cute 22 y/o male model. who was, like, the captain of team hot. a few lemon drop shots later, off to plaid. debbie throws down the drink tickets, fashion gays fashion gays, say my hellos, then off to orchard bar, which is that new party by the fat blonde w.i.t. girl, that a.r.e. weapons guy, and the sushi chef. ran into jill's brandon (ooh, i ditched the other brandon, tsm, bc of my male model. face.), cocktails, say hello to gays and sushi chef, then, holy jesus, the hand of god intervenes on my night: just then some guy who i've never seen before (but seems like a misshaper) comes up to me and male model and starts telling male model about how he use to be obsessed with me, all his friends are obsessed with me, and how i'm the most beautiful girl in the *scene*. wait dude, are you a figment of my imagination? did i just WILL you into being? whatever, you are my boyfriend, i love you mr. stalker guy. alright, so i go back to the male model housing complex. (yes, there is such a thing). the "agency" owns it. could it be more "real world: model series"? i usually don't say this, but the make out sesh was incredible. first of all, i've never been with anyone so anatomically perfect. uh, these arms! holla! there was this weird role reversal, where he was this hot slut, and i was the smart older swarmy lech, the visual objectifier. i swear, his body emitted light. i have a perma-grin. alright, thats all. or, that and its ALL about making out with 22 y/os. like, they still have this eagerness and gratitude. they're pawing every which way and everything you do is great and they can't get enough. make out perfection. the gloating ends now. promise. (Comment on this)