I Pissed in the Driveway -or- Don't Eat Yellow Snow

Fun Fact: My mom and I have very similar digestive schedules. This sometimes causes fights on who gets the downstairs bathroom first. It usually depends on who will be done the quickest, or who thinks they can hold it the longest. Because, who wants to go upstairs with clenched legs? Not I.

I haven't left my house since Saturday night. It's been snowing ever since. Since I'm probably the biggest pussy ever when it comes to driving/walking/existing in snow/ice/cold, I pretty much stay home all the time whenever the white stuff is on the ground. So, I've been going a bit stir crazy. After watching endless hours of boring TV shows, and eating about 20-30 clementines in 3 days, I decided to look up recipes for home made play dough. At this point, my mom decided to go use the bathroom. In my head, I had already thought to go to the bathroom, but decided I could wait until she was done. Little did I know she had other plans for me for when she went to use the bathroom.

She gets up to go, and I'm sitting at the computer in the kitchen, beginning my search for recipes for play dough. She asks me to take the trash outside. I say alright, and watch her go off to the bathroom. I figure I can still wait it out, and decide to please my mother by taking the trash out right away. I go get a coat, and take the trash out of the can. I go towards the garage, and open the garage door. The instant I hit the cold air of the outdoors, it is immediately realized that I am not going to be able to hold this piss much longer. I pray silently to myself that my mother will be done doing whatever bathroom things she has to do by the time I go back inside. Then I realize I have the dilemma of how to put the trash in the outside can without putting my feet in the snow.

Back to me being a snow-puss. The boots I have on are flat on the bottom. They don't have any traction. Walking in the snow really isn't the problem. It's the entering back into the garage, onto the slippery concrete that bothers my brain. I thought for a moment to just take my boots off, walk two steps barefoot into the snow, then put my boots back on one foot at a time so I didn't get any snow on the boots, so that I wouldn't slip and fall on the garage floor and break everything. Then I realized that was ridiculous. So then I grab a broom, and with the giant bag of trash in one hand, my dominant, right hand...I use my left hand to try and maneuver the top off of the outside can long enough to swing the bag into the can. The problem I was having was the area I was in. I didn't have enough space to swing the bag. I was standing between the back of my mom's van, and the edge of the garage door. Just enough space for my thick body to fit. Not enough space to swing anything. Next I figure the best way would be to put the bag down, see if I could lean out far enough to reach the can with my arm, or the broom handle, and pull it closer. This plan works. I get the can, pull it close, and use the left hand to open the can, and the right hand to dump the trash. All while clenching my legs tightly together.

I quickly hobble back to the door to go inside, and then open it, am barely able to climb the one two step into the house to ask my mom if she's out of the bathroom yet. I may have leaked a droplet or two. I ask her, painfully, if she's done. She responds with a definite NO. It is then that I tell her my newest plan. I say "I'm going to go pee in the driveway then." Then I turn around, let out a groan of pain as I hop/run out the door, grab a paper towel from the rack in the garage, and pull my pants down as I turn out the light to the garage.

It's 10 degrees out there. It's 2:30am. It's snowing. I drop my pants, bend over to grab and pull them forward as I squat down. My coat is covering my ass. My feet are inside the garage, planted firmly on the concrete. My piss is now flowing out into the snowy driveway. I feel the cold wind and snowflakes brushing against my legs and my ;). I wipe it up. Then promptly pull up my pants, grab the broom from earlier, and sweep a pile of fresh, white snow over my yellow snow.

Then I go and repeat the process for getting the trash can close enough to toss out my paper towel.

Right after I finish tossing the towel, the door to the garage opens, and my mom calls out "Did you do what you said you were going to do?" I calmly reply "Yes, I did." Next thing I know, she's shutting the door to the garage. I know she's mad. I know I'm in for it. I smoke a cigarette before going inside to meet my maker.

I got told to never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever EVER...in my life...ever again, piss in her driveway.

Heh.

From The Desk of Cara Cakes: Love Advice

So many people fantasize about love and sex and relationships and it's addicting because it's nice to think about. But, you have to think about the realities, that you don't always get what you want, when you want it, and you might not always be happy once you think you've found it.

You will stress and stress and stress over finding love, and then once you find someone you think you love, you worry about all the things they didn't do, or what they should have done to be a good significant other; instead of focusing on the good parts, and what you do have, you worry about what is bad, and how it will fail.

People worry constantly about whether or not they will find love, and when, and if that person sitting at the table across the aisle is their soulmate. Constantly, you are checking out the people around you, wondering if they are potential mates. Sometimes even when you already found a mate, or if the person you're looking at has one already themselves. There is no good way to say this other then, everyone wants the same thing.

My advice is to give your love to those around you, regardless of size, shape, color, age, or gender. Just love. Love everyone, and love yourself. If you exert all of this love, true, passionate, amazing love, then people will love you, and one day, you may be able to narrow all of those prospective lovers down to just one. The one.

But guess what...You also may not be meant to have just one. So don't dwell on failed relationships, because there is always the opportunity for another. There is love after love, and life after love. Life goes on. Love goes on. Depression over lost love is sometimes necessary to grieve, but also silly if it goes on for too long. Don't let loss of love hold you back from loving again. Don't let it stop you from loving those around you completely. Because if you are shutting down your love, and your ability to receive love, then you won't find it.

I love you, and you love me...and before this turns into a Barney song, I'm going to stop.

Hope this helps those of you struggling to understand your love life. Even just a little.

The Wayback Machine

When you find something of yours from a long time ago, it's almost like opening a time machine. Moving back home to my parent's house has kind of been like entering a time machine and going back....way back...

I found a diary of mine that has barely been used. From when I was 15. It starts out kind of depressing. And then it gets silly, and then hilarious, and then down right dirty. I definitely had some sort of multiple personality disorder back then, and depression. Going to get help for that was probably the best thing for me at that time.

I wrote about my self hatred, my delusions that my friends really didn't like me, and other horrible, negative thoughts. I read over some of the entries, and it seemed like I was obsessed with having the attention of a guy. I was 'in love' with a guy I talked to on the phone and on the internet. I remember now running up the phone bill so high that I got my phone taken away. Those damned long distance relationships!

I wrote about how cyber sex was pretty awesome, and I remember being quite the little slut in chat rooms and IMs. I switched to phone sex. I should have been getting paid for that crap!

I also found a yearbook from elementary school. It's crazy how just looking at those photos can bring back so many memories. Field days, playground antics, teachers, learning to read, etc...

This has been a fun journey into the wayback machine...A Teenage Dream if you will.

I'm Happy East of Nowhere

I'm happy. And one of the main reasons for that is my film family. I've spent the past 6 months working as the makeup artist for the independent film East of Nowhere. It is a great project, and I'm proud of every single cast and crew member. I've never felt more at home with a group of people then when I'm around these guys. I have met so many amazing, creative, hilarious, musical, gorgeous, focused, genuine people while working on this film. Every one is dedicated to the project, and I know we will succeed as a group.

In other worlds, the filming for East of Nowhere is soon coming to an end, and then it's off to post production aiming for a release date in the spring of 2011. The film should be heading to some film festivals (hopefully) and maybe I'll get to go to Sundance! That would be a hell of a reward for all the hours I've spent on (and off) set with these crazy kids. If you want to help out and like to donate to the project, or to view the teaser,please Click HERE

To read the blog and find out some behind the scenes info, see some screen shots (and some of my work!), and learn more about the film in general, please CLICK HERE

Home Again...

Let me start by saying that I'm proud of myself. I'm proud that I was able to live on my own for over a year without getting evicted. I'm proud that I kept my apartment clean enough to get my deposit back. I'm proud that I've had the pleasure of having amazing times over the last year and a half. I'm also proud of the work that I've done.

I had to swallow some of that pride and head back to the homestead for a little while. I am thankful. I am thankful for my parents for allowing me to come back to their house after so many times of back and forth. I appreciate their unconditional love, even though sometimes I seem to fall more then I can stand.

The reason I'm back here now is my own fault and no one else's. I'm the only one to blame for my downfall. I made the choice to volunteer my time and my makeup to work on a local indie film with hopes of expanding my portfolio and gaining experience in my chosen field. I made the choice to switch up my modeling career. (CLICK HERE to view my website!)I made these choices and I don't regret them. Acceptance in the worst of times makes the best people.

I've known for a while that I'd rather struggle and experience these 'failures' then conform to society and experience the security of a regular paycheck and a boring routine. I love my life, and the people in it. I live for it. I think if I had to change the way I live just to please other people, I would meet my end.

I recently started reading a new book. Conversations with God. Hear me out before you push the scroll button and run away screaming. I am not a hyper religious person. I was brought up by a Jewish mother, and a Catholic father. I was confirmed in the Catholic church. I dabbled in Wicca. I learned about Psychic Vampirism. I've been SAVED 3 times. And occasionally, I come across a book that revives me. This book seems to be one of them. It doesn't matter to me whether or not the conversations are with God, or just the author talking to himself. What matters to me is what's said. And the truth behind it. I won't go into too much detail here, because I don't want to explain too much. I'd rather you take it upon yourselves to trust me to pick it up and check it out. It will bring to light the many reasons that you may not trust in God, and how to understand Who You Are.

I hope that this time in my life will help me to realize Who I Am. At least I can be home again to gather my thoughts.

The Time I Got DRUNK

Before I begin this story, I have to say, that I was under the influence during the time of this occurrence. I am rehashing this memory to the best of my ability. There is some video evidence of this night. I can't believe how obliterated I actually was. I am kind of glad I didn't remember how stupid I was on this night.

Once upon a time, a couple years ago, I went out to the bar. But that's not the whole story. Let me tell you about this particular bar venture...

I went to see a few of my girl friends at this little place in the city-billy part of town. There was free pool that night, and cheap pitchers of beer. I met up with my girls, and we drank and talked and goofed around like we always do when we're together. Soon I was eyeballing this man that was taller then Shaquille O'Neal. This well dressed white boy had it going on, from far away. He also seemed to have a sidekick. A shorter, darker haired, pierced, tattooed guy who never seemed to go too far from his side.

I soon decided I wanted that. I was on a mission to get what I wanted, which was Mr. Tall Guy. They came over and sat with us, I'm not really sure how that happened. I've slept since then. We were all drinking and joking around. Come to find out that the tall guy was a college professor at one of the local colleges. The short guy kept saying he was a Greek God, and his main goal seemed to be trying to get into the pants of my mostly lesbian friend.

We all moved outside, now quite drunk, and we were alone as a group on the patio. Now things could get a little more intimate. Greek God decided that he wanted to marry my girl who likes girls. I told him about the fact that I'm an ordained minister with the Universal Life Church. He asked her to marry him, she said yes, and that was that. I married them right there on the patio. We had witnesses, and they had vows, and she wouldn't kiss him, and their marriage lasted all of 15 minutes.

We celebrated the shotgun wedding with some shots, and a nice smooth toke of a special kind of cigarette. Out there on the patio, sharing some drinks with people, celebrating fake love, and real lust, twas one hell of a time. Soon people went back inside. I stayed out to finish my cigarette, and the conversation I was having with the Greek Groom. He sure forgot about his wifey with a quickness though, because the next thing you know, he's got his mouth on my tits. It was then that I realized I wasn't getting with The Professor. By this point, I had also realized that The Professor wasn't really that cool, or that hot. Yeah, he looked good, but he was drunk as shit, high as fuck, and couldn't really figure out which end was up.

After I stopped this cheating bastard from nibbling on my nips, we went back inside to join the group. We were singing along to the jukebox, and taking shots, and just having a grand time. I guess I was video taping this part of the night, to post on YouTube for my subscribers. I just watched the video, and I kind of want to take it down. I won't, but I really can't get over how ridiculously trashed I was.

This night was one that me and these girls will never fully remember, but will definitely never forget. The time we went to the bar, Nan got fake married to a Greek God, we smoked pot with a college professor in the patio area, sang along to the music, and I got my tits serviced by my friend's pretend husband.

I am kind of glad I've grown up a bit since this time, but I'm still happy to share the stories. There's more to come.

The Not-So-Lesbian Encounter

Since I told you about today's vagina experience, I may as well share one from a couple days ago.

The other night, a close female friend of mine came over to hang out and get some facial waxing done. We got a pizza, talked and ate, and I waxed her face, then we talked some more. We got to the topic of bisexuality, or being a lesbian. We shared some stories about our encounters, and then we flipped on some lesbian porn. That was around 11pm.

We continued to sit there and watch movie after movie. Talking about what we liked and disliked about the porn. She said she liked the idea of rubbing her nipples against a warm, wet pussy. I said that sounded enjoyable for well...everyone involved. We pulled up a video that included that very thing, and it sure did look pleasant.

Soon we were watching videos of big breasted MILFs with young big breasted teens. Videos of middle aged women with barely legal asians. Clips of girls grinding their clits against each other. This went on for hours. For hours we sat there, and watched lesbian porn. As two girls who've seen and touched each other before, it was kind of ridiculous to be sitting there totally turned on, and not do damn thing about it, other then hope you didn't soak through your panties. But, that's exactly what we did. We smoked cigarettes, watched girl on girl porn, and got REALLY turned on.

I was talking to a guy I'm interested in via chat and text during this whole thing, and I was hoping to get to hear him for the first time that night. I decided to share my horny thoughts with him, and after my friend left around 3am, I called him.

We talked for a bit about random things, and then I went to my bed, where we got more intimate with our conversation. It started to thunderstorm outside, as well as in my panties. I couldn't hold off any longer, and I told him my dilemma. The sparks flew through that phone line, I must say. As it poured outside, the both of us poured out sexual energy, and were able to come together, regardless of our distance.

The best part of it all, was the smiles and laughter we shared after we got off. The conversation didn't end abruptly after our climax, and instead, became intimate in a different way. I was pretty damn happy as I fell asleep thinking about the lovely, although ridiculous night I had with my friend, and the great times I had talking with my prospective lover.

Vag Waxing *Adults Only*

So, people seem to think I'm interesting. I am beginning to believe the hype. I do a lot of different jobs, and one of them is being an esthetician, which means that I do massage, skincare, makeup, and waxing. I do these things for friends when they need them taken care of.

One of my friends decided that she wanted to get her vagina waxed. I hadn't done a full on vag-wax before, so I said if she let me video tape it, and sell it on my clips store, that I'd do it for free. She was more then down. This chick is pretty kickass, as is, so I was looking forward to doing the wax. I knew it would be at the very least, educational.

So,she comes over this afternoon and I have everything set up and ready to go. I have her friend take care of the camera, and I put her on the table, panties off, spread wide open. I'm literally staring straight into her vagina.

I figure I might as well get to it, and not give her the chance to puss out. HA! Yeah. So I start spreading the hot wax on her upper pussy area. She immediately lets out a squeal and a giggle, and tells me that it feels like I'm spreading hot cum on her. I laugh out loud, and continue working this shit into her hair. I get a couple strips laid down, and pause to let them harden so I can rip them. I had an inkling that she wasn't going to hold still, so I lean over her, pressing my belly onto her leg, and using my other arm to hold her other leg down. I go in and start flipping the edge of the strip of wax, trying to get a grip. The whole time she's giggling like an idiot, and squirming around underneath me. I yell at her to hold still, and pull her skin tight, and RIP that strip off as fast as possible, following it up with a slap to the area to stop the pain. She screamed and moaned and laughed and scrunched up on the table in front of me. It was by far, the most amusing thing I'd seen happen on that massage table to date.

As the wax went on, we got a little more comfortable with the fact that I had to stick my hand over her clit and her opening. She got a lot more comfortable with that then I. I was applying the wax closer and closer to her spot, and with each application she was getting more and more turned on. With each rip, she was closer and closer to having an orgasm. I wasn't sure if I should worry about this, or just go with it. I figured I needed to remain professional, and just keep waxing.

I continue to rip strips of wax and hair off of her, and I knew it was going to happen with the last strip. I applied the wax to her, and fanned it with a piece of paper, and she started moaning and squirming. All the while, I'm still trying to use my weight to hold her down so I can finish the job. At this point, all 3 of us knew she was about to come. So I held her down, the girl holding the camera held her down, and I started to rip...and she started to come. I had to pull that strip off in pieces because we couldn't restrain her enough. She got off, while my face was mere inches from her, and while I was ripping her hair right off her body. Hot and hilarious.

I think that the thing that I learned from this experience is this: "The eyes are no longer the windows to the soul, because the slanted eye gives away much more insight."

The 27 minute video of this is available for sale by clicking HERE.

Best Life!

Being single is not what I remembered. I remembered being lonely, unhappy, depressed and just a general mope. I had an on again, off again relationship for three years, that ended a few months ago.

Normally I don't post my personal business online, but there's nothing bad to say, so I don't think it really matters this time.

I finally feel free again. Free and happy. I loved being in a relationship, and having the companionship, intimacy, and love. I didn't love the arguments, and the jealousy.

Now that I'm single, I can spend endless amounts of time with my friends. I can travel to visit friends. I can kiss two different people in one week. I can go home with someone from the bar, not for sex, but for the hell of it. I don't have anyone to come home to. And for once, I'm loving it.

Instead of getting jealous while watching happy couples kiss and touch each other in front of me, I just smile. They're happy. Why not show it? I used to get all butthurt at the thought of seeing someone else be intimate with their loved one when I was alone. I thought of myself as the third wheel. Now I see myself as the center of it all.

I'm not seeking a relationship right now. But...but...if one finds me, then I won't hold back. I am not that sad, easy, mcslutty fat chick that this modern world is used to. I'm a large, confident, sexy woman. And I'll make you see it. I get it if I'm not your thing, and I appreciate your honesty. But don't let that stop us from being friends.

Having this realization, of pure happiness and love of myself, and my life, makes amazing things happen.

Story time.

This past weekend, I was hanging out with some friends, new and recent, and we were all sitting around in a backyard garden, at 4 in the morning. The weather was perfect, the night had gone great so far, and here we are, a small group of great people. I began to talk about how happy I felt. And then a small bit of worry popped in my head. I decided to push it away with a positive thought instead. I told the group that I was going to win the lottery that day. Instead of thinking about my money problem, I said screw it. I'm gonna get money. I'm GOING TO win the lottery. Today. I told them a few times, and that I'd let them know when it happened.

Later on that day, after saving one of them after they ran out of gas at 7am, and sleeping, I went out to win the lottery. I go to the gas station, pick my scratch off, pay the man, and get to scratchin. I won $10! I am a lottery winner!

I shared the news with everyone that day.

The levels of positivity coming out of me are just right to make good things happen.

I figure, if you can just say something is going to happen, then it will. Good or bad. Just believe in yourself, and be thankful for what you've got. And everything will be alright.

So the point of this, was to share my news, my happiness, my insight, my stories, and my love.

Love is my drug

I went to a party last night, and had an amazing time. The party was for the cast and crew of the film I'm working on as a Makeup Artist.

I laughed so hard my face hurt. I met some awesome people that were creative, smart, talented, and funny.

It was awesome to just going to a party and not feeling like you're the fat girl
but just feeling like a girl.

Feeling happy and loved and enjoying and loving everyone around you is such a great feeling it can keep you high for days.

Love is better then any drug, even if it's taken in small doses.

Clips Store Closing

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An Interruption

So, I was just sitting here enjoying my new Jen Lancaster book, My Fair Lazy, when something interrupted my thoughts. I went shopping yesterday. Well, actually, I went selling and returning, which ended up with me coming home with the same amount of clothing I left with, and only a couple dollars down. One of the things I came home with was new, and the rest was old stuff that I had tried to hawk at the plus size resale store.

I woke up yesterday wanting to enjoy some air conditioning, and what better way then to try and sell off your old shit and get some new stuff at the mall? I packed a small bag with some old Lane Bryant and Avenue shirts that I don't really wear anymore, and went off to Clothes Mentor in hopes of raking in a little money. I dropped my bag off, and looked at the selection of clothes in my size, and left after they told me it would be an hour and a half before they could provide me with an offer.

I proceeded to drive down to the mall and return a pair of 'jeggings' to Lane Bryant that didn't look very good on me. I got the go ahead for $22.00 of store credit, and went on to look around at the options available to me. The clearance racks provided nothing cute in my size. I liked some of the dresses, but they were WAY more expensive then $22.00. I wandered over to a rack with some plain black scoop neck tee shirts hanging. The shirt had a small breast pocket. Kind of similar to those shirts you can get at wal-mart, in packages of 3 for less then $5.00. I felt the shirt. It was very soft. I decided to check the price. $26.50. What the fuck? I decided to try it on.

It looked great on. It was long enough, lightweight, soft, and black. I loved it. I decided to get the shirt. While I was searching the store, I found another shirt that looked like it might look good on me. It was black, with little slits down the short sleeves, and it had a british sequined flag on the front. I checked the price on that one. $59.50. SERIOUSLY? $60.00 for a ripped tee shirt? You've got to be fucking kidding me. I don't get how the same thing, at another store, can be almost fifty dollars cheaper. People always say that plus size clothes are so expensive because they take more fabric to make. I call bullshit. If I can shop at Wal-mart and get something extremely similar to your $59.50 bullshit brit tee, then why the fuck would I go to you, Lane Bryant (and Avenue, Torrid, & Macy's) when I can go there? I'll tell you why.

The pain and trauma of having to deal with Wal-mart and it's patrons, is enough for me to avoid, and pay the extravagant price of $59.50 for a bullshit brit tee. Every time I go to that godforsaken superstore, I leave wanting to commit multiple homicides. I'm not kidding. If I ever get a gun, your ass is now responsible for keeping me well the fuck away from a Wal-mart.

First of all, the place is huge! As a fat girl, I rarely have the desire to walk half a mile just to grocery shop, and pick up some tampons. Secondly, the place is filled with people. At any hour of the day, there is always a long ass line waiting to check out, and the aisles are always full of some kind of dumbass, who can't find the mac & cheese. The people of walmart website wasn't created out of sheer imagination! That shit is REAL. Lastly, the bathrooms fucking suck, and every time I am there, I have to take a shit. That place makes me so fucking ill that it's almost inevitable that I will have an episode where going to the bathroom is unavoidable. Even if I just went at the gas station on the way there, Wal-mart makes me sick enough to have to go. Sometimes I wish I could sue Wal-mart for pain and suffering, but I'd somehow end up to blame.

So yeah, charge me a shit ton for a bullshit brit tee, if only to save me from the devil that is Wal-Mart.

I didn't buy the brit tee, I got the black scoop neck super-soft breast pocket tee that I originally decided on. A bit extravagant, yes, but why not? I had $22.00 store credit! And, I still had to go back to Clothes Mentor to get PAID BITCHES!

So with my new shirt in my recycled bag, I get back into my air conditioned car, and drive back down the road to the fat chick resale store to pick up my moolah, and my rejects. I was a bit early on their hour and a half time frame, so I found a slightly shady spot to park, and read a little bit of The Liars' Club, by Mary Karr. I got 11 pages in, and decided to go on over and see if they were ready for me.

I go into the little store that smells of a garage sale and cheetos, and walk up to the counter with a smile on my face. A size 2 (not Torrid 2, actual 2) comes up in her short shorts and her boobie poppin' cami, and says "Name please?" I look at her, tell her my name, and wait for the cash to start rolling in on these super awesome shirts I'd brought to them to resell. I was extremely disappointed when I saw my bag, still full to bursting, put on the counter in front of me. One shirt was folded neatly next to it, and the size 2 says to me "I can offer you $3.00 for this shirt. We can't take the rest of these due to some light wear." I took the money, and my shitty, barely worn clothes, and left in a bit of a huff.

It was 98 degrees outside, and all I had wanted was a bit of cash to enjoy a nice evening at the sushi buffet, and a new shirt. Well, I got my new shirt, but at a price. And, no sushi for me.

After this somewhat disappointing day, I went home, proceeded to strip down to my knickers and my new tee shirt, and sit in front of the fan reading my book, and drinking from an ice cold liter bottle of water.

All in all, still a better time then spending 20 minutes in Wal-Mart, any given day.

Paranoia

I know it's been a while. I'm sorry about that. Sometimes I forget I have a blog. Other times I remember, and still decide to keep my life to myself. I have been quite confused lately. I know I'm not the only person with this problem. Some of my friends have also been suffering confusion as well.

I write, then I delete it. That's how this is going to go. I can't even write full sentences without feeling neurotic.

I wonder if my mania is endearing. I wonder if my psychosis is adorable. What about my flaws? Are they amazing?

I am curious about who to trust, and when I feel trusting, how much can I really trust them with? Can I trust them to tell me the truth? Not always.

I think the paranoia is setting in. But I am going to battle like hell to keep it away.

Somehow, I will make it through this. I will press on, I will move mountains, and all that jazz...

You Want Me To Do What? Pt 2

Here are some more of the interesting emails and requests I get!

"hello , would you ever consider a live in caged boy? id pay my part of the rent . wouldnt take up much space a dog cage would be fine . im loyal obedient and would never question anything you ask of me . i dont mind being locked up hours / days at a time as i would look up at you from the cage adoreing you wishing i could have you but relizeing im just your slave not your man. please consider"

My response: Well, lets see...maybe I will lock you in the basement, or the storage closet. Either way, you'd be wondering when you'd get to come out and play, or go for a walk, or even just feel like a real human again. I'll think about it.


"Mistress if i bid and win Your pleasure products may i get a real live session?"

My response: No. Just because you are paying for something that I am providing does not mean I am going to meet you in real life, for free, for a session. If you purchase my auctions on Ebanned, that is what you get with your bid, what the auction is for. That's all. Nothing more. If you want a session in real life, I have to want to meet you, and you have to pay me.


"Mistress Cara, supreme white goddess, will you racially humiliate me and make me feel like the dumb nigger i reallyam?"

Although I did not respond to this one, here are my thoughts on this topic of Racial Humiliation: If that's your fetish, then alright. I am not a racist person, and if I am going to participate in this fetish, it is strictly as a web actress, and does not necessarily reflect my personal opinions on race. I am not really into this fetish, but if it is a private, one on one show or session, I would do it for the right price. This would be an extreme for me, and would have to be someone that really deserved being treated like that. IE: I would need to be provoked, pissed off, and just down right disgusted by you to use racial slurs and sound meaningful while doing it. So, if this is your fetish, again, that's your fetish, but it isn't really my thing, so if you want me to participate in this with you, piss me off and watch me turn into that mean fat white girl you wanna serve.

Anyways, it's 8:30 on a Friday night... I need to make some plans!

Cam Girl Cara Cakes?

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Oompa Loompa

Above is a photo taken last March, when my bikini was fresh and popping, and it was still cold outside!

NOW...




I am a bit of an Oompa Loompa.

After Kellie Kay came to visit, and spending a few days outside, I have gotten a nice tan!

I feel a bit orange, but I know I will soon be bronze. I have been wearing short shorts and my bikini top, dresses, and occasionally leggings. I love this summer weather, but I also hate the sweltering heat!

I have been trying to find ways to keep my body cool during the hot days. I have been visiting the parks, and running around through the splash pad. Bob, my dude, even rigged a hose to the trash can and turned it on mist so that we can sit outside in the yard/driveway and get misted while we sun.

He has turned into a bronzed adonis, lost a few pounds, and his bathing suit has already started to fall off.

I have outgrown my bathing suit, and it's all faded from me wearing it too much. My hot pink zebra print bikini is no longer cute!

I want a new bikini, perhaps a custom made one from Big Babez Beachwear....*hint*

If anyone is interested in helping me get something cute, cooling, and sexy to wear for this summer season, please contact me at my email address: crosseyedforcakes@yahoo.com

I am probably going to be living off of popsicles and ice water for the next few days trying to keep cool. :)

My Opinion

Here's what I think:

People who are experiencing drama with other people, should not post it on the internet for people who are not involved, to see/read/comment/talk about.

Recently I have been asked to comment on multiple situations, that include a few different groups of people.

I don't even know some of these people.

I don't have any comments. I don't want to get involved in it. I shouldn't even know about it, unless I'm one of the parties involved.

So don't ask me how I feel about someone else's drama, because I don't feel about it at all. I feel bad that it's happening, but I am not about to read 40 pages of blog posts just to figure out what the fuck is going on, and then try to figure out which side to choose.

I don't like having to see my friends' personal lives being posted online. They don't like seeing it online. So stop talking about it in public, keep it to yourselves, and deal with it like sane adults.

You want my opinion on online drama?

I think it makes you look like you have no class.

That's all.

So yeah, you wanna look like a 4 year old, throwing a temper tantrum because you're mad about some shit?

Do it at home. Because the general public doesn't need to see you lose control of yourself and your actions, and we definitely don't need to know what's going on.

If that's the type of person you are, then I don't think I want to be around it.


Also, to those that seem to think that drama between fat web models has any similarity to dramatic situations that happen with hollywood celebrities, it doesn't. Fat models are not famous people, and if we are famous people in your eyes, great, but I'm not walking down any red carpets, or being bombarded by paparazzi. I don't read celebrity drama either. Tiger Woods, and Charlie Sheen are names I've heard a lot recently, but do I give a fuck what their issue is? Not really. NOT MY PROBLEM. Let them deal with their shit in peace, and let the fat models deal with their shit in peace.

Sometimes I don't know what to write, so I just start to type and see what comes out. My backspace bar gets a lot of play during times like this.

I guess I'll write about what's been happening.

My little sister graduated from college a couple weeks ago. I went down to see her graduate, and I bawled my eyes out as she walked down the aisle to her seat, when she went up to get her diploma, and then again when everyone clapped for the graduates. I was full of pride for her, she did a lot of hard work to graduate from the Honors College Magna Cum Laude.

Last weekend we had a graduation party at my parents house. Family members from around the midwest came to congratulate her. I brought my pug Petra, and Bob to the party. It was a really nice day. My family enjoyed Bob's company, and Petra's as well. We stayed all day, and ended up getting home around 10:45.

A few hours after we got home, our new upstairs neighbors got back. Bob corralled them into our house so I could meet them. So far, I like them. Jimmy and Jackie, the young punk couple from the North side of town. They ended up staying till about 3 in the morning.

This week could have been better. I had some relationship issues that needed to be worked out. I think things will be better now, we'll see. If not, I'm done.

I seem to have some health issues as well. I've had acid reflux, the shits, and a period for almost 3 weeks now. I feel crappy, but I don't know what to do about it other then take some tums and stock up on the mega variety packs of tampons. Oh yeah, and eat lots of chocolate.

I went to The Fresh Market yesterday, and had a foodgasm. I wanted to buy everything in the store. I probably would have if I could afford to.

What I bought at The Fresh Market:
A Sourdough Bread, unsliced
A Beef Liver
1/2 lb of Chocolate covered toffee candies
Strawberries

I wanted so much more! That store is amazing. I think I'd shit if we had a Whole Foods. The last grocery store that made me so excited was Fox & Obel in Chicago. That store kicked ass. :)

I could use some gift certificates to The Fresh Market, if anyone wants to feed my fat, that would be the place to do it!

I have also been trying to keep my house relatively clean, because I'm hoping to have some company this weekend. It's not easy to keep the house clean with dog hairs floating around everywhere. It's been a process.

I will update you again when there's something to say.

In the meantime: "When you feel that the whole world is against you, turn around and lead the world." -Orlando Santiago

Hey You!

Well, I figured since I am getting a lot of requests for extreme and specific things, I'd start catering to them a bit better.

I have had an account on EBANNED.com for a while, and today I posted my first auction. I am emptying my ashtray for you! If you have always wanted to be my human ashtray, then get on over to EBANNED, sign up, and bid on my butts.

I will also be selling my used panties, bathroom trash, sissy items, and more.

If you have an item you'd like to buy, send me an email and let me know what you'd like to see up for auction!

Remember, I'm not easily offended, so don't be scared to ask!

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/caracakesxoxo

You Want Me To Do What?

I recently noticed that when I get fan mail, it always seems to be a request or a question that I've heard before. I am never really shocked by the requests, and they always seem to be entertaining at the least. I started getting abnormal requests from men online at a very young age.

I was lucky, and had a computer, and the internet, at the age of 11. I was innocent then. I used AOL Instant Messenger to talk to my family, and I would go in chat rooms, and talk to people about homework, and the latest 98 Degrees CD that I liked. Then I moved here to Indiana, and I didn't have very many friends at school. I was the fat girl, and even though I did have some friends, I wasn't really all that popular. My internet usage switched from research and innocent chats with family and friends, to seeking out a boyfriend.

At the age of 14, I was in a serious long distance relationship with a guy I had never met. His name was Jason Wright and he was from Pennsylvania. Jason was 18. We would talk on the phone for hours. I would call him and we would talk about everything. We'd talk about music, we'd talk about our friends, and sex. I loved him.

After breaking up with him when I was 15, I was a bit more 'chatty' online. I'd started making profiles on MSN, and yahoo, and was talking to more strangers on the internet. I would talk to older men, and send them pictures of me. Nothing dirty, just pictures of my face.

I got a request from a man on MSN that was quite insane. I was about 16 at the time. The man's name was Chris, and he was from NYC. I think he said he was 48. I don't really remember for sure. We would talk about how I was a big girl, and how I didn't have a boyfriend. He told me he was into getting abused by young girls. It was his dream. I asked him to elaborate for me. That's when he made his offer.

Chris told me that in exchange for his life savings of $400,000, I would have to torture, and abuse, violate, neglect, and ultimately kill him, or leave him for dead in a hotel room or apartment. I told him that I didn't want to do that, it was wrong, and crazy, and I would end up in jail. But once he had told me the offer, he couldn't stop talking about it. That was his fetish. That was his dream. His ultimate goal of sex. He wanted to be totally stripped of all his money. He wanted to be ripped apart and degraded by a young, money hungry girl. He wanted to be tortured to near death, and then left to die, strapped to a chair in an empty room.

That was the strangest request I've ever received on the internet. Since then, nothing really shocks me. Don't be afraid to tell me your requests, or your fetishes, or that thing you like that you think might be too weird for me to know. I've most likely already heard it, or something just like it.

You want me to do what? Sure, pay me.

Coffee & Cigarettes

I don't know why, but whenever I drink coffee, I want a cigarette. It might be late, but the coffee is on, and therefore, I'm smoking.

I never really branded myself when it came to smokes. I'd usually buy whatever was on sale. Now that there are different laws for cigarette companies, not all cigs smoke the same. I can no longer smoke only sale cigarettes. I've smoked brands such as Pall Mall Menthols, Newports, Marlboro Menthol Lights, Marlboro Menthol Mediums, Camel Crush, Camel Menthols, and Camel Menthol Lights. Now, I can only smoke the Camel brand without gagging, coughing and spitting.

I like smoking. I know it's bad for me, but so are a lot of other things. Sometimes just waking up is bad for me. But hey, I like doing it, and I'm going to do it until I don't like it anymore. Recently, with these changes in cigarettes, I haven't liked it nearly as much. I decided to be a cheapskate the other day, and get 2 packs of discounted Marlboro Menthol Lights, instead of the Camel Menthol Silvers (lights), that I would now normally purchase. That was a stupid decision. I hated every single one of those cigarettes. I didn't even mind bumming them out to people because they tasted so damn nasty. I couldn't finish them. I ended up buying a pack of Camels before the second pack was empty. Ahh...that's the stuff.

The coffee situation is also strange. Some coffee makes my stomach hurt and then I feel crappy all day. Right now I have Dunkin Donuts regular coffee. It's alright. Tastes good, but I get that crappy feeling after I drink it. I like Starbucks, and there is a local coffeehouse called The Firefly. They have really good coffee. I also enjoy Chock Full O'Nuts coffee. That shit is delicious! Unfortunately, I can only find it in small cans, and I have to go to Wal-Mart to buy it. I highly dislike going to Wal-Mart. Unless I have nothing else to do, and it's late at night, then I'm cool with going there. But only then. Not when I need something. Then it's a hassle.

So here I sit, drinking my coffee and smoking my cigs. Nothing exciting going on, but I figured I'd share my thoughts with you. I am about to return some movies, and I might rent some more. I am going to try to fall asleep before 2am, so that I can wake up and go play Farkle with my mom. I think I'm turning into one of those ladies...the ones who play games just to pass the time. Now all I need is a husband who will support that lifestyle -and who doesn't mind that I am a fetish model.

Grilled Cheese & Tomato Soup

It's pouring rain today. I don't want to leave the house. So far, I haven't. I'm running out of cigarettes, so I might go down to the gas station later and get a pack.

I'm hungry for the first time today. It's 6pm, and I've not done much of anything today. I've cleaned the living room, and the counter in the kitchen. I haven't folded the laundry that was done two days ago. I haven't put on a full face of makeup. I haven't filmed any videos for my site. I've napped. I've spent time in bed with Bob.

I have somewhere to be tomorrow, and I still need to figure out what I'm going to say. I still need to put together some sort of a price list, that looks some sort of professional. I need to go to Walgreens, and get my picture taken so I can send in the money and the form to take my esthetician test. I need to fold that laundry.

Instead of doing any of those things, I'm going to watch a movie, and probably end up ordering some food. I'm a little to lazy to heat some tomato soup, and fry up a grilled cheese sandwich.

It's pouring rain outside. I don't want to do ANYTHING.

A Bit of Car Trouble & the Law of Attraction

On Eater, my car started acting up. I didn't really explain what was going on during my last post, but I will now.

Sunday, on the way to the buffet, Bob and I were discussing car maintenance, and when I should get an oil change. I told him that it was about time for one, and I'd go on Monday to get it taken care of.

My 2001 Oldsmobile Aurora had ears. I swear. That car knew when we were talking about it. You say you think you should get gas, and it ran out of gas a minute later. The gas gauge was broken, so trying to fill up when NEEDED was always a shot in the dark. You say you need an oil change? The car starts shaking and the check engine light comes on within 30 seconds of you mentioning something.

We stopped at a gas station to see if getting a gallon of premium gas, a fuel injection cleaner, and a quart of oil would fix the shake. None of the above made the thing stop shaking.

Then Eater happened, and I went home, and the sun came up on Monday.

I went to the dealership service center on Monday around 1pm. I told the mechanic I wanted an oil change, and my spark plugs changed out. I told him about the check engine light being on, and that the manual for the car suggested that it was a misfire, most likely due to needing new spark plugs. That guy told me it would cost $75 to have the mechanic find out what was going on. I called bullshit, because I could go to plenty of other places and have it done for free. They came out with some explanation about how I'm not only paying for someone to plug the computer into my car, but also for them to check what the code means after the computer spits it out.

To summarize- I am paying some dipshit $75 to plug a computer into my car, have it give him a code, which he will then take to a book, and read what the code means.

I told them to do it, and if I decided to do the repairs there, that money would go towards the bill. If not, I'm out by $75. I went to go wait in the lounge and drink 'free' soda.

A while later, the guy comes in and tells me I need rear brakes and rotors, and a tune up with spark plug replacement, a fuel injection system cleaning, a transmission flush, a coolant flush, and the total would be over $800.00. Getting all of that fixed wouldn't even bring the car back to good. Almost all of the gauges are fucked, and it had 181,540 miles.

I called my dad to see what he wanted to do. Ultimately, it was his car, and I knew I couldn't afford to fix it. He told me to wait a few minutes and him or my mom would call me back. I waited, went outside to smoke a cigarette, and then when my mom called to tell me to pay them, and she'd be there shortly. They were going to get a new car. I proceeded to LOL.

I paid the guy, and parked my car in another place, and left with my mom on the search for a new car. In my head, I wanted a Pontiac Vibe. I had told my friends a while back, the next car I get is going to be a Pontiac Vibe. Multiple people knew that I wanted one, and I was pretty excited that my mom and I found one within the price range.

We talked to the sales guy for a while, then told him to find some other Vibes with less miles, and a bit newer. We left, drove around a few other car lots, I sat in some other cars, but in my head I was still partial to the Vibe. We went to Burger King, and got a drink. Then returned to the dealership to see what our guy had for us.

My dad showed up, and by 7pm, I had the 2006 Pontiac Vibe to drive home. The car is awesome, and I am so grateful for my family and their help. I feel safe and comfortable when I drive this car. I also feel pretty cool, the thing is pretty sweet.

I think of this car as the Law of Attraction coming true. I told people I was getting a Vibe, I saw myself loading my massage table into one, I searched for the one I was going to have. I believed it was mine. And now I'm driving my car.

The Secret has seemed to work for me. Not all things have happened yet, but things have happened. You have to be patient, and thankful, and you have to believe that you will have everything you want.

So far, so good.

Why today is no longer EASTER to me

I decided that today was not really a religious celebration at all, at least not for me. Today was definitely more of a celebration of eating. Instead of Easter Sunday, I'm calling today Eater Sunday.

First meal of the day was with Bob's family. Seven of us went to Golden Corral for lunch. I have never seen that buffet more crowded. We had to wait to be seated. That never has happened when I've been there.

Normally, I can never really find anything there that tastes good to me. I knew that I shouldn't waste space or money (even if I didn't pay), on salad. So I wasted it on carbs. The first plate had macaroni and cheese, and two yeast rolls. Then I had fried shrimp, spicy shrimp, beef and mushrooms, and some rice. Add on two more yeast rolls. Next, I tried a couple different kinds of cake. Add on about a liter of Mountain Dew. I was pretty full. Yet I stole a cupcake on my way out the door.

I still think Bob ate more than I did. I wasn't really paying much attention, but he usually eats more than I do. Especially at buffet restaurants. I remember seeing him get more plates than I did. He's my little fatty.

After Golden Corral, I dropped the fat boy off at home, and then proceeded to my parent's house for meal number two. They knew I had gone to eat already, but still wanted me to come for dinner. I had been having some car trouble today, and was a bit nervous about driving out to their house. I called them on the way to warn them about my car trouble, in case the car broke down on the way there.

They had invited a couple they knew to come over and eat with us. I always feel a little nervous around this particular couple. I think it's because my mom always feels the need to impress them. I decided to drink to ease my nerves. My mom followed suit. We were both toasted pretty quickly.

The menu at Mom's consisted of the following:

Appetizers
Shrimp Cocktail
Deviled Eggs
Cajun Crab Dip w/ Crostini
Ritz Crackers w/ Cheese & Tiny Pepperoni
Pesto Tomato Slices

Main Course
Glazed Honey Ham
Spiced Pineapple Slices
Pesto Tomato Zucchini Bake
Asparagus
Scalloped Potatoes
Herb Rolls w/ Butter
White Wine

Desserts
Chocolate Bunny Cake
Sweetened Strawberries
Italian Cookies

I had three deviled eggs, the entire main course, and a thick slice of chocolate cake.

I took home some leftover ham, potatoes, asparagus, Italian cookies, and the ass end of a chocolate bunny cake.

And this, my friends, is why I've changed today to Eater.

Paranoia and it's relativity to typing paragraphs

I don't know exactly when it started happening. My days are all running into each other. I think it's almost Saturday. I remember Thursday. What happened to the time?

I have felt rather lost. I have aspirations, and I feel like I'm not getting any closer to them. A good way to explain the way I feel is this: when you are typing a sentence, and suddenly, your cursor jumps back 3 paragraphs and you are typing the ending of your sentence in the middle of a word you'd already finished writing.

This is the type of thing I hate. Feeling like every thing's okay, yet worrying about what's to come. After you start worrying, then you can't help but worry about what's going on right now, even if everything is alright.

That cursor thing just happened while I was typing that last sentence...

I wonder if I feel so worrisome because I'm watching the movie 2012.

Paranoia sets in tonight, but tomorrow, every thing's going to be alright.

P.S.- that cursor thing happened 3 times while I typed this blog.

Trains and the way things are...

I feel silly for admitting this, but the train ride from Chicago to Pittsburgh was to be my longest train ride I've ever taken. Only to this date, that is.

I was nervous about the train ride, the length of it, whether or not I'd be able to sleep, and if I'd be comfortable enough. I was thankful to have Gabi as a traveling partner, she helped to ease my nerves, considering she's traveled by train more then I have.

We were in the lower level/handicap accessible car. This was the special car, for fat people, handicapped people, and people with disabilities. Well, my disability was that I couldn't fit up the stairway to the upper deck, because I was fat. Wooohoo! I decided that was a good enough reason to sit on the lower car.

Our other passengers were of various ages, with various reasons behind their choosing to sit in the lower level car. One passenger stuck out to me. The one that seemed the most deserving of this super awesome train car was a guy that seemed to be around my age. He hadn't said much, and was sitting in the first seat on the right side of the train. I had noticed him at the station in Chicago, because someone was assisting him with his baggage, and helping him walk to a seat. I wasn't too sure what was going on with him, but I wanted to find out.

When it comes to people who may seem out of the ordinary, instead of being turned off, like most 'normal' people, I become intrigued. I gain this insane desire to find out about every aspect of their life, to hear their stories, and to know what makes them tick. This guy, was one of those people.

I finally got some balls, and went over and sat next to him. I brought a container of pineapple and strawberries. I asked if he wanted to share, and he nodded yes. I introduced myself, and asked his name. It took me a few tries to understand what he had told me. Twas not his fault, but my own hearing. His name was Kohn.I asked him if the reason for his disability had to do with an accident after birth, and he said yes. He had been hit by a car while riding his bike 17 years ago, and survived. He is just as coherent as you or me, but trapped inside a body that doesn't respond the way it used to. I've known another person with this same crippling disorder. Unfortunately, my memories of him are not as good as my memories of Kohn.

Kohn and I shared fruit, I put it in his mouth, making it so that he could enjoy it a little faster than if he had to do it himself. I don't mind helping people, and I rather enjoyed seeing him smile as I placed the sweet fruit into his mouth. Kohn told me he was vegetarian, but only since January. Luckily, most of my train snacks were meat free, so I was able to share more food with him. We were able to talk and get to know each other, and I decided I liked him. He was my type of person. He is an author, has published one book: An Obsoleted Observance in the way These Things Are (A Change In Perspective) by Kohn Ashmore. I told him I would order his book once I returned home. I did, and I have read four chapters so far.

While I was sitting with Kohn, not even 40 minutes after we had left Chicago, the lights in the train went out. It seemed a bit abnormal, but we didn't seem to be in any danger, so I didn't pay too much attention to it. However, the women in the back row began to freak out, and thought we were going to derail, and die. They also seemed to freak out every time Kohn coughed or moved, and that bothered me.
Kohn was getting off the train in Toledo, OH, which also happened to be the smoke break for our train ride. I needed a cigarette, and got off the train with Kohn. We said our goodbyes, and hugged. I will be seeing him in a week when he is in Indianapolis.

After getting back on the train, another young guy came in to say hello. He was from Gabi's hometown, and he seemed a bit wired. We gave him some pills to help him sleep, and tossed him back out of the lower level car.

The rest of the ride to Pittsburgh was pretty quiet. I read my book, stared out the window at the lights, and finally fell into a light sleep for a few hours.

We were awaken not five minutes before the train arrived at the Pittsburgh station. I wish we'd had a little more notice.

We got into the station, and had a short layover. Enough time to use the bathroom a few times, and clean up a little bit. I changed back into day clothes, and washed my face, then touched up my makeup.

Shortly before 7am, we boarded the train to Lancaster. I was able to sleep for short intervals, and awoke about 2 hours before the train was to hit our destination. I got some cereal from the snack car, and watched the mountains, rivers, and country side roll by. It seemed like we were there in no time at all.

Now all I had to do was meet the person that made my trip possible.

Morning Time

When I woke up this morning, I was surprised to see that I had 17 new email messages in my inbox. I can check email from my smartphone, so I decided to scroll through and delete all the junk. Out of those 17 emails, three were from actual human beings.

The first one from someone asking if I will dominate him. He was curious to know if I offered sessions. I do, for a price.

The next one was from someone I met while I was in New Jersey, at the bash. I haven't told you about this person yet, but I will. His email was sweet, and I was glad to wake up to that.

Lastly, and most recently sent, was an email that made me a tad upset. In short, it seemed as if a job had been taken from me by the school I just graduated from. It seems that there was a bit of confusion at the place where I was going to go and do makeup, and they thought I was still part of the school. Now, I don't know yet if they really got the job over me, but when I find out, I'll be sure to keep you updated. That would be a pretty sick April Fool's joke if it was one.

Speaking of April Fool's, I have to mention this. Bob, my live in boyfriend, is shaving right now. He had a handlebar moustache since Thanksgiving, and told me the entire time that he would shave today. I thought that was a joke. Surprisingly, he's in the bathroom right now, and he just finished shaving. I just heard him sigh, and say "Ah! I'm young again!" He just snuck around the corner, and showed me his clean shaven face. I'm happy now, I've got my boyfriend back.

I will leave you for now, as we are going to go eat the world. Chinese Buffett, here we come!

The Beginning is Now

I will begin now. Starting today, I will tell you my stories. The past will be brought forward, the future unknown.

I am known as Cara Cakes. Cara is pronounced: Care-uh; just so you know how to say it if you ever meet me in person. I am a Plus Size (this means FAT) Fetish Model, and a Makeup Artist. I am proud of who I am, and what I do. I am talented, people don't hate me, and I seem to be able to take care of myself. That's what matters to me.

I just recently finished school. I studied esthetics. I wasn't sure about esthetics at the start of the program, but as time went on, I grew to love skincare and waxing as much as I love makeup. I love making people feel beautiful, and I love helping people. So helping people to feel good about their appearance, regardless of size, age, or gender, makes me happy. When I finished the program, I planned on taking the instructor program, so that I could eventually teach people what I had learned. This didn't happen however, the school didn't like that I'm also a 'pornstar'.

I didn't let their opinions about my modeling take me down. I also was not about to conform to please them, just so they could control me for another 9 months. I realized, when asked to leave school, that I am who I am, and they could take it or leave it.

Best decision I've made yet.

After leaving school, I briefly freaked out about money, and what to do with myself, as anyone would. I decided to throw myself back into modeling full time, and to establish myself as a Makeup Artist.

The Monday following my graduation, I left town. I got on a train and went to Chicago, to meet up with another model, Gaining Gabi. She had invited me on this trip before I graduated, before I knew what was going on with school. I didn't think I could go, because my income just got totally cut off. She really wanted me to come see her though, and she asked one of our fans to help get me there and back. This fan, now considered a friend, is named Glenn. He's from England, and he's pretty damn awesome!

So once I'm in Chicago, things just kept getting better. Not only did I get to hang out with Gabi, but I also got to meet some of our fans in person! I love meeting people, and besides-who doesn't enjoy meeting their admirers?

The first day we met two guys. One I did know prior to meeting in person, and one I didn't. The one I did know was very respectful, and kind of quiet. I still enjoyed his company. The one I didn't know was smitten with me, and showed his affection both verbally, and with subtle physical motions. I do have a boyfriend, which he was aware of, but he still had the balls to try. I give him props for that.

The four of us went to lunch at Panda Express, then got on a bus to try and find 'Boystown' to go shopping for accessories. We ended up missing the stop we needed, and rode the bus for an hour and a half, getting off at the north end of Chicago. The bus was cramped, the people were rude, and I was glad to get off. We found another bus to take us where we needed to go, and eventually, made it to our destination. We stopped in some cool little shops along Belmont, and then Halstead, trying on accessories, and buying a few things, then continued walking down Halstead for a while. We stopped at a coffee shop for a drink, and to use the restroom. It was while we were there that I found out I was going to get to the BBW Bash in New Jersey later that week. I was elated!

The second day in Chicago, we relaxed at the place we were staying. We went out to eat at Famous Dave's BBQ, and went to Costco to get some food for our train ride the next evening. I had never been inside a Costco before, and was surprised at the quality of their bakery items! We also tried out some amazing massage chairs while we were there. The Human Touch massage chair was awesome, and helped to soothe some of the back pain I'd been having lately. If you're in the market for a massage chair, I'd definitely go for one of those.

Wednesday, St. Patrick's Day, 2010, was our last day in Chicago. Gabi had aqquired some tickets for us to see the Shedd Aquarium, and we went there before our lunch date in Chinatown. We didn't have much time for the aquarium, so we shot through the shark exhibit, and then checked out penguins, dolphins and whales. 45 minutes is not enough to really experience the Shedd Aquarium, yet it was still fun, and I'm glad we got to go. We decided to take a cab to Chinatown, and it took us 3 cabs before we found one that we both fit into. Thankfully the cabbies were understanding, and no one was angry that we didn't take the first available cab. While I'm on the topic of cramped cabs, I might as well tell you about our cab ride back to Union Station on Monday night.

Monday night after taking a train back from Halstead, we ended up a little lost, and needed to get back to Union Station quickly. We decided to take a cab. There were 2 super size fat girls, and 2 chubby guys. Myself, Gabi, and the fan I knew ahead of time, squeeeeeezed into the back seat of an average sized cab, and the one I didn't know sat in front. We were all laughing and joking about how silly it was that we were so smooshed together. The cab driver said he was into big girls, and that he wished he was the one smushed between Gabi and I. We all laughed some more. Needless to say, that was the best, yet the worst cab ride ever. Best because everyone was so happy, and the guys were all turned on, and the worst because stuffing into the back seat with another fat girl and a chubby guy kind of hurt my knees.

Anyways, Chinatown. We met up with another one of our fans here. We went to the Evergreen Restaurant at the end of the little strip of shops and restaurants. The food was amazing, and the company was good. Out of all the people we met in Chicago, I'd say this guy was by far, the most respectful, and the sweetest. After lunch, his treat, he drove us to State Street so that Gabi could buy some shoes to wear to the dance on Saturday at the Bash. We went into The Avenue, and didn't find any shoes. Then we walked down the block a little and I decided to give our leftovers to the cute hobo sitting on a planter curb. Apparently, Gabi had already given food to this kid the week before. I sat with him for a few minutes while Gabi went across the street to look at shoes. The guy's name was Gabe. His sign said 'Too ugly to prostitue'. While we sat there, we exchanged stories from the road, and got lectured by a sidewalk sweeper about how we should sell things instead of begging. After the man with the broom left, we laughed at his lecture and agreed that if we were selling things, it would have to be something we made, not pencils, as he had suggested.

When Gabi returned, we went to get Gabe some food at McDonalds. She got him a shamrock shake, and a 20 piece chicken nugget. I went upstairs to use the bathroom while they waited for the food. I got hit on twice on my way back down. That day, I think the total number of times I was hit on was 7. This doesn't include our lunch date, or the man we were staying with. After McDonalds, we stopped in a beauty store and looked around. I bought a new wig, Gabi bought makeup and fishnets. After this, we made our way back to Union Station.

That evening, we got on the train, and started our 20 hour journey to Pennsylvania.