freak magnet

elvez
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

recent google searches that have brought you to me:

• daschund with man's face
  
• holy cannoli auditions
  
• teenagers wearing diapers
  
• airborne poo
  
• labia majora gallery
  
• a crack of buttocks
  

i need to find out where these holy cannoli auditions are taking place.

be my bitch

dog
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

several years ago i took a road trip across the states. while in new orleans, we somehow locked all sets of car keys in the trunk. we looked up a locksmith and got towed off to a sketchy part of town.

while my boyfriend negotiated some kind of trunk-opening deal, a relatively-insane passerby tried to pick me up.

"no thanks. we're on our way out of town. leaving," i politely declined.

he approached, with hands outstretched. "c'mon baby," he motioned with his head. "come with me. i'll show you what's what."

"no, thanks. thanks though."

psssss he hissed while turning on his heal. "you be on your way. i don't need no psycho biiiiiiitch!"

i looked at my then boyfriend and, while pointing to myself and nodding, mouthed the words psycho bitch...


i currently own a small condo which i rent out. the tenants, all female so far, have been incredibly easy-going and considerate.

i was contacted last december by a “new york filmmaker”. he visited my place with his team of producers. they stated a long list of prerequisites necessary for the living requirements. somehow i met that list because they called that night, wanting to seal the deal.

i let roman (real name) move in because he threw scads of money at me.

the day he moved in he informed me that his backers weren't happy that i didn't prorate the first two days of december. "it's the third you know."

i sensed were off to a bad start.

a week or so into roman’s stay, i got a call at 7:30 one evening. he was screaming that a window had come off its hinges, and that he was freezing to death.

"you are going to find me dead on your floor. frozen! buy me a hotel room!"

"don't be dramatic," i replied.

"what! i'm freezing right now. i will be dead in a few hours."

"it's 8 at night. what do you want me to do? call the fire department? do you want them to rescue you like a kitten in a tree? i'll be over in 15 minutes to fix it."

"you (he meant a woman) cannot fix this. it's very broken."

when i showed up to fix the window, he continued to gripe about the purchasing of hotel rooms. i tinkered with the mechanism, and closed the window.

"roman, when you put the handle in the upward position, the window opens from the top. when you put it in the other position, it will open from the side."

"do not speak to me like i'm a child."

"i'm not. i'm showing you how things work, so you don't break them," i motioned to the wall where picture frames used to hang.

"you think i'm a fool."

"how's the heat? is it too hot?" this was another one of his issues.

"i don't know. i don't understand the temperature." he replied.

"i changed it to celsius for you last time. so you could understand."

"i don't understand."

"well, how do you feel? do you feel too warm?" my patience waned.

"i feel abandoned."

i grabbed my jacket and waved goodbye as i walked out the door.

there were several other similar incidents regarding the washing machine, the internet, the telephone, and how to make the water hot in the shower.

around christmas, roman informed me that he was going out of town and that i would have to be available from 9-5 to meet the internet guy. "the backers aren't happy that i lost money on the market. i have to go to new york to speak to them."

he returned a few weeks later.

"i have to give you notice, krista. the backers want me back in new york. they're not going to fund my documentary."


the image is funny to me - a burly, oafish 50-year old man answering to the purse stings of a team of whiny, skinny control freaks.

i gladly accepted his short notice.

i guess we're all somebody's bitch. it just depends how psycho we’re going to be about it.

mind the gap

low tide thames
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

about a month ago, i took my best friend to dinner and basically got dared into going to london with him.

"if you don't have a good time, i'll reimburse half your airfare."

"i'm sure i'll have a good time," i replied.

by desert it was all planned out.

but then i woke up the next morning and realized that my soon-to-be-expired passport would not be ready in time.

my friend was uncharacteristically quiet on the phone. "i'm a little disappointed in you," he said.

i ran around for the next three days expediting my passport. once i got it, i booked my ticket for the next day.

i hadn't been to london since the late 80s. i was looking forward to seeing how it had changed. usually on my first night overseas, when i'm jetlagged, i'll allow myself to be shown around. it's a great way to see things - being all tuckered out. but it's not long before i start asking for beers.

"let's just hop into this pub for a sec. some clients might be here," said my friend.

"sure," i replied, because i was jetlagged and agreeable.

his friends were there. we mingled. soon enough, he was catching up with a cute blonde “colleague” and i was left speaking to a guy named petey. petey had a very british way about him. i could not tell if he was having fun with me or straight out being rude.

"what's your deal, petey? why are you so cheeky?"

"i’m going to stand up…" he started, "…move to the other side of the room and go talk to my friends."

i looked at him and nodded. he, indeed, stood up, moved to the other side of the room, and started talking to his friends.

i sat alone for a while, tired and out of place, until my friend caught my eye. you okay? is what i could tell he was asking.

i rolled my eyes towards the door. he knew i wanted out.

i told him what binky, or whatever his name was, said.

"geese... maybe you misinterpreted him? british thing?"

we went to another bar where he had an altercation with the bartender over the pronunciation of "glass".


after two days, my friend went home while i stayed on for a bit. i spent the majority of my time walking around and visiting museums.

on my last night, i went out for dinner and drinks with a girlfriend and her friends at a local pub. an acquaintance of hers walked in and sat at the next table.

"mike, this is my friend krista. she's leaving tomorrow."

he turned to look at me. "she looks like the type who needs something longer."

"forget him," said my friend.

i shook my head. "let's have some champagne."

we ate our chili pockets and drank our champagne. and before we knew it, mike had joined our table and drank the rest of my friend's red wine.

he rambled on and on about his upbringing in zimbabwe and south africa while not once asking anything about anyone else. and then when the bill came, he insisted on paying.

"you're not going to pay for our drinks. our dinners!" we argued.

"please. please. it would be my pleasure."

he finally won the right to pay our bill once we got tired of arguing.

"i gotta pee," i said, standing up.

while in the bathroom, i heard the front door open and close. something didn't feel right.

i opened the door to the stall and there stood mike.

"what are you doing?" i asked, a tad bit stunned.

he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me up against the wall.

"um, this isn't going to happen," i informed him.

"i can be very tenacious," he said.

"well, i'm headed upstairs. this isn't happening,” i shook my finger at him. “you're in the ladies room!"

"what a dirtbag!" exclaimed my friend.

"i will NOT be whored out for a friggin' taco." i downed the rest of my champagne.


i got an email a few days after i got home. apparently, mike skipped out on the bill. i mailed my friend a whack of cash to cover the meal and the booze.

does this merit half my airfare back?