I'm So Great: The Rantings of a Jaded Youth

When I grow up, I want to be just like me.

A Weekend in Review: Long Beach Mardi Gras and 80s Night at the Hully Gully March 7, 2011

My calves are a-sore from walking and dancing the weekend away. I was super jazzed about a night of debauchery and booze at the 2nd Annual Long Beach Mardi Gras, which promised costumes, music, and New Orleans flavor. They had a parade at 3, but I missed it because I’m a layabout and I just couldn’t get out of the house in time despite a relatively early start. I heard later from some Canadian adventurers that the parade was joyous and colorful and completely confusing because they did not remember Compton being so friendly-looking.

We arrived in Long Beach around 3:30 and the parking was plentiful, but kind of a pain in the ass. If you plan on going next year, bring cash so you don’t have to wander around looking for an ATM and also free parking so you can use said ATM. I didn’t have to do that because I somehow had cash on me, a rare occurrence, but Ernie was totally screwed. Whoops. When we got there, the children’s section was only mildly bustling despite the opportunity to jump in one of several bounce-houses, make masks, and play in a giant balloon floating in a pool of water. I really wanted to play in a giant balloon in a pool of water but the sign told me I had to ask about the weight limit and I figured if I had to ask, I was too heavy.

We wandered away from the kids section and people attempted to sell me beads from stalls even though I obviously didn’t need them.


See that yellow and pink bag? It’s chock full of nothing but beads and glitter. Ernie and I wandered away from the kids’ section in search of some debauchery but everywhere we looked were strollers and toddlers. Where was I supposed to throw my beads?! Past the art for sale and the puppet animal stalls, past the bead stalls and picnickers we went in search of the fabled Party Gras. We headed toward the press of people on the pier, but when we got there, that’s all there was really. Just lots of people, milling about. There were costumes a-plenty, more than a few pirates, and an Elvis on stilts who sweet-talked all the ladies.


Interspersed in the crowd were more children, being sticky and preventing any boobs. I still gave out a lot of beads though, because I believe in fun.

We wandered around the various shops, which were eerily reminiscent of Seattle’s Pike Place. All the buildings on the pier were super brightly painted, so of course I wanted to live in all of them. There were a couple of jazz bands and we accidentally went into a fenced-off area where our bags needed to be checked for whatever reason, but there really wasn’t anything going on. When we were satisfied that we’d seen everything that was happening, we joined a friend for dinner and drinks in the hopes that when we left, there would be less kids and more drunk, promiscuous women showing off their tits. By the time we got out of Bubba Gumps, where everyone in the damn restaurant is celebrating their 21st birthday until the end of time, there were pretty much no people on the streets. It was unfortunate because we had dragged old Lames Foreman out to Mardi Gras with the promise of boobs, but I had another engagement to rush off to so, disappointed though I was, I had to dash anyway.

I was off to 80s Night at the Hully Gully with the lovely Sara and her friend Maria. I had never been, but it was lots of fun. Basically, there are two rooms with bars and a dance floor inside and a DJ blasts 80s music at everyone and they 80s dance all night. I generally don’t dance so 80s dancing, which from what I observed mainly consists of shuffling from foot to foot, was an easy way to get into it. I was apparently good enough at shuffling because I garnered the attention of a relatively cute guy who had apparently been told that 80s dancing consisted of two-handed grabbing ladies butts and then rubbing your junk on them.

When we parted company with him and made for the much cooler smoking patio, we happened upon the aforementioned Canadian adventurers and told them many tales of dildos and lube accidentally left where everyone could see. It was still Mardi Gras for me so I gave all three of them beads and FINALLY got to see some exposed chests.




All around a fun weekend, although yesterday I came about as close to death as I’ve ever been. Ernie and I were driving home after midnight on the 241-S, the toll road that is the only freeway into Rancho Santa Margarita. It wasn’t raining so much as maliciously misting. Ernie drives a lot slower than I do, but we hit a puddle of water or something and our car was suddenly spinning out of control. We spun at least twice, then unintentionally Tokyo drifted across the wide, grassy median, and ended up across two lanes on the 241-N, completely unscathed. It was the glass lamps falling on me at Tuesday Morning but on a much grander scale. Something’s watching out for me. Once we’d gotten the engine back on, Ernie got off the freeway and got back on going the way we needed instead of just driving back over the median like I wanted to. It was probably for the best. It looks like our car got out miraculously unharmed too, although it is completely filthy and there is a lot of plant matter all up in the rims. I pulled out a dandelion before work today.

Back on topic though, the Hully Gully was a much better time than I could have expected, not being fanatical about 80s music or dancing where people can see me. Our friends from the North helped a lot with that though. And the Long Beach Mardi Gras had potential but was unorganized and lacked the type of shameless people who would really make it shine. I’ve never actually been to Mardi Gras in New Orleans however, so I really have no basis for comparison.


Another StephInfection post. Take that! February 20, 2010

They See Me Ridin’

DJ Sparkle is lookin’ fine
Rocking out wit’ my girl, Starshine
When I roll up, you know I’m not a phony
‘Cuz my sweet ride is my favorite pony

My pony, my pony
Ride, ride my pony
My pony, my pony
Ride, ride her hard

I plait her hair with ribbons and bows
Gallop through the school, mowing down hoes
Tippin’ my hat to my diva crew
Steph Infection is coming for you

Muckin’ out her stall like it ain’t no thing
Then I outfit her with phat reign bling
Her bit’s made of diamond
Horseshoes made of gold
Don’t need to say a word for you to be TOLD


*whistle blows*
Fuck you and your horse, you whore
Bringing out the equine hate
GooooOOOOOOOO Sky Bears!
*woos and pom pom noises*

You’d better reconsider if you think you’re tough
With a face full of hooves, you’ll be shit outta luck
If you walk away from your daddy’s Gran Torino
I’ll dent that shit up with my hip-hop palomino
I may look like a kitten, but buitch I’ve got claws
My daddy’s lawyers fight when I break laws


Note:   The closest thing I could find to a drawing of DJ Sparkle and her pony was a drawing of me in a cupcake dress.  It was a birthday dress that I designed and then handed off to my dear old mum to make into a reality, but that is another story completely.  There’s nothing better than seeing ponies places.  I once saw a guy in a cowboy hat riding a pony on the sidewalk while I was on my way to work and it made my day.


I don’t know what other girls did when they were young… February 18, 2010

But I loved getting and sending things in the mail.  It was seriously my favorite thing in the world.  I would pack all sorts of great stuff into any letter or package I sent.  There were always flaccid balloons and confetti and stickers.  I still have huge drawers full of the stuff.  One time, and I will never live this down, I sent my friend Jill a letter with glitter in the folded up paper.  She’s going on her second move since then and I’m just waiting to get a text about how she opened a box and her new place is completely covered in glitter again.  Glitter makes me happy, so that makes me happy.  Sorry Jill.  So my next StephInfection song came from my love of mail and my greater love of sending things that people didn’t want to receive through the mail, which you’ll see shortly.  Enjoy!

(Glitter bomb, glitter bomb)
Glitter in your letter
Makes it much better
(Glitter glitter)
(Bomb bomb)
(Glitter glitter bomb)
Fill your house with sparkles
I’m a confetti ninja
I’m giggling all week about the joy I’m gonna bring ya
You love gettin’ mail
I love sendin’ it to ya
Glitter in the folded paper’s gonna glitter-glue ya
Your mom’s gonna freak when she sees the carpet
But she’ll never get it all out so she’s always gonna sparkle

What’s the point?
Glitter in the mail?
When I want to make a point
I send people gettin’ nailed
69, scat, genital locks
You piss off MC PMS
You get a mailbox full of cocks
Quit sendin’ me spam, Highlights for kids
Or in your prepaid envelope comes a man fuckin’ a pig
Susan B. Anthony is cheering for me
Stuffing envelopes with girls covered in pee
My printer’s out of ink but it gives me satisfaction
Mail terrorism with Steph Infection