Buj

Fresh Ink

2011-07-24T02:09:00.000-07:00

I've been working on the rough sketch for my first tattoo...

and it's gonna go right here.

Riviera Maya

2011-05-10T22:52:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been awhile. I can't believe you're still here. Gotta be honest, it took me one, two, three...dozen tries to remember my blog password. Actually, that's a lie. I never remembered it and had to make a new one after tackling every word in the English and highly underused Pig-Latin language. I didn't even attempt Spanish because it's become very clear after a recent trip to Mexico that I know notta wordo of espanol. But between nodding and smiling and eating way too many spicy foods (including grasshoppers!) I was off swashbuckling and following treasure maps that led to ancient remains of sandcastles. I took a lot of photos while exploring with my first ever big-girl camera! Here are a few.

Salvation: Unleashed

2010-12-29T17:56:00.000-08:00

A toxic blemish on my soul

Four years and sixty-two days

My conscience, a black hole

Assumed this hype was just a phase

One Sunday morning, before the sun

When thinking was not clear

A sign the atrocity had begun

Terrified squirrels ran away in fear

That shrill bark, unshakable

Pierced echoes reaching the Bahamas

to a group of musicians- dabatable

While frozen with remorse. I stand outside in footy pajamas

That clammy lock was unhinged

On that gate to their salvation

As it swung open- I cringed

Broken under heavy temptation

No more can this secret thrash about

I, I let the dogs out

Gaga's Gaga

2010-09-29T21:37:00.001-07:00

Anybody else think Lady Gaga obsessively sings about her Papa Ratzi?

"I'm your biggest fan I'll follow you until you love me....Papa. Papa Ratzi."

Gross.

I'm my own woman, Mama

2010-09-23T21:36:00.000-07:00

We clean for our maids. We get fit for our trainers. We tan BEFORE going poolside. Why are Americans so ashamed of the "before" and the fact that we're mere mortal. Why can't we just be accepted for our sloppy, chunky, pasty selves. I have more to say, but I'm too busy popping a pimple before my facial.

The Client

2010-07-08T19:04:00.000-07:00

Let’s say I was to plan an elaborate $15,000,000 gourmet dinner for a group of 50 million people that took 2 years to create. But just as the dinner bell is being rung and my hungry guests are waiting with anticipation, I realize there are no dishes to serve it on...

...then WHY did I make the meal in the first place if I had no idea how to present it?!

Got Milk?

2010-04-26T22:42:00.000-07:00

Ok, this is weird. But what if lactating mothers can somehow produce different types of milk that determine our genetic make-up. You don't get it? I don't either.

And then it's 3a.m. and I'm on the corner, wearing my leather. This dude comes up and he's, like, "hey, punk!" I'm, like, "yeah, whatever!"...

2010-04-03T13:15:00.000-07:00

Ghost Farts

2010-03-11T09:29:00.000-08:00

Warning: Not Recommended for Adults Without Children Supervision

It's late as I climb into bed reflecting on the majority of the males’ attire at tonight's party. Lens-less glasses. Oompa loompa tans. More neon than 1983. As I close my eyes, I smell something...not kosher. (*Judgmental face*) Sniff. Sniff. Sniffff. “I dunno.” Obviously, code for, "Is that seriously me?" And why lie? There's no one to lie to. (Review the above heinous male fashion trends.) I did eat a rando sausage and quiche combo from the food table. Naw, that CAN’T be me. It must be one of those infamous...ghost farts. Ghost farts exist. Trust. Though, the science behind them is still unclear since the test subjects themselves tend to be transparent. Maybe I upset this ghost guy and chopped his finger off while cutting my bagel. Or accidentally ran him through the tumble dry cycle along with my linens. Now, as payback, he’s gonna fart on my head when I’m trying to sleep. And if I cover my face with the bedspread, he’ll just crawl in there with me and let ‘em rip left and right. So, if you’re sitting on my lap and reading this, stinky ghost, I’m sorry I crushed you in my sleep or flushed you down the toilet. (But why were you right there anyway?)

Just please, stop farting on me.

New. Blog. Up.

2010-01-26T02:10:00.000-08:00

http://boogerssmellnasty.tumblr.com/

Word.

Hard Times

2010-01-20T00:12:00.000-08:00

Nightmare Sequence

2009-12-14T23:40:00.000-08:00

Ink flow halts the slideshow.

Suppose I'm breaking the rules,

NO PENS ALLOWED.

I hear you passive aggression.

I get it.

My eyes are closed, let's try this again.

She's not supposed to document this stuff!

It's not meant to be remembered.

She's got ink!

Pause.

She's got ink!

Flashing sirens. Blaring lights.

The jagged fence is jumping.

The adrenaline is kicking in.

The bottle said it'd take 20 minutes,

more like 20 seconds.

You can't stop a dreamer from dreaming!

On my third bottle of adrenaline

and the ground won't stop shaking.

My head hurts.

Keep running...running...running...

...LIGHT.

The world is clear again.

Say what? Move your mouth a little.

I can't understand when your face is blurry.

It's just beginning?!

Fuck, my head hurts.

The nightmare sequence activates.

Lightening floaters everywhere,

like a scratched film reel x 100.

Audio! Full speed!

Vision. Vision's the scary part.

Subjects move in alternating S.L.O.W. motion.

In a place this dirty, disinfect the disinfectant wipe.

Nothing's cohesive.

Nothing makes sense.

I feel myself squinting,

as if that will help to comprehend.

My head...

How do I expose you

to validate what I'm saying?

Because words can't describe.

I can't draw it with my eyes closed.

And I can't dream it with my eyes open.

Psst...peep it

2009-12-09T11:55:00.000-08:00

My girl, Romina, and I are collaborating a new blog which features fun illustrations with the theme of...nothing! Like a Seinfeld blog- Inspired by the randomness of life.

The blog will be available soon, but here's a sneak peek.

If it's yellow, let it mellow.

If it's brown, flush it down.

If the air starts to stink,

Just flush it, don't think!

CHOOSE

2009-12-02T17:56:00.000-08:00

If it's within my right arm's reach, you can bet your left kidney that I'll doodle on it. NO! I'm not gonna doodle on your left kidney. I'm gonna doodle on whatever's in my reach...kidneys don't take ink well. My favorite thing to doodle is words. This happens to be one of my favorite quotes, I wish my name was 'Anonymous.'

Twentysomething

2009-11-20T21:23:00.001-08:00

Moist Fritters

2009-11-11T15:39:00.000-08:00

"Excuse me, ma'am. How moist are your fritters?"

The elderly Asian woman behind the counter at Donut Zone looks severely confused.

Dial tone.

She thinks about it. The longer she questions the question, the more she's convinced of having been on the receiving end of a dirty joke.

Busy signal.

Her face curls up like she detects some cheesy pimples.

"Your fritters...are they moist?"

At this point, I realize what she must think of me.

I didn't mean...I just wanted...I...am now holding in...a hearty Chris Farley laugh...chunkier than that soup NFL players promote.

"Moist?" she snaps. "What you mean...moist?"

Attempting to suppress the chuckles, I keep talking.

"Moist," I explain. "Like wet. Are your fritters wet?"

Blast! Ah, camels balls!

I can't laugh now. She'll think I'm making fun.

"Jinglejinglejingle."

Santa?! All I want for Christmas is to get out of this gosh-awkward situation, preferably with a fritter in hand, not ___.

It's just a policeman walking in.

Po-po, that's a funny word. Like poo-poo, but with less o's.

The tiny woman eyes him like there's a gun held to her thigh.

It smells powdery fresh...my deodorant.

"Look, I was just wondering if the fritters are...fresh?" I stammer.

Pfft, poor woman looks like her Phazyme just kicked in.

"Fresh? Fresh? Of course, they're fresh." She laughs as she reaches into the case and hands me a bagged fritter.

I pay her a dollar for the fritter and her troubles.

The cop nods and smirks at me on my way out, probably because I smile at him like I know tonight's winning Powerball numbers.

"Jinglejinglejingle."

I walk out the door and bite into my fritter.

Dry.

Desert.

Dry.

Pulse

2009-10-20T23:00:00.000-07:00

Autumn

2009-10-14T12:25:00.000-07:00

Autumn

We are not like this year-round

Childlike

Why must we share you with three seasons

Taking a four hour walk to nowhere

Dancing between the trees

Jumping in piles of leaves

You smell of burning wood

Bottle the scent if I could

Your wind whispers

and tickles my ear

Sets the soundtrack to my day

Accidental beauty

Though you know no other

Autumn

We are not like this year-round

Radiant

Like you

When you're visiting, we unleash the child within

With wool and twigs on my skin

Lie in a pile, looking up at the sky

You beam back from a bird's eye

Pieces of broken leaf in my hair

The day turns into night

With a purple sky backdrop

So much movement though I'm calm

A gift from Mother Nature

Autumn

We are not like this year-round

Reflective

Please linger

I'll glimpse you in four months

Revealed through melted snow

Your remembrance will show

This moment lasting

Bitter winter contrasting

Stay

Autumn

We are not like this year-round

Matchbox is for kids, but match boxes...!

2009-10-13T22:55:00.000-07:00

As a hobby, I've taken up decorating old match boxes from flea markets. Let me know if you want one, michelle@michellebujan.com. I know you have one by your toilet. At least have it look purdy. Class up the joint (like it'll help)...

...burn

Like vs. Love

2009-10-05T21:46:00.000-07:00

Like is acknowledgement.

Love is appreciation.

Like is popping each other's gum bubbles.

Love is popping each other's boils.

Like is making mental notes of places to go together.

Love is saying, "Please, just get in the car. It's a surprise!"

Like is to think of a witty retort while shyly giggling.

Love is a tennis match of jokes taken light years too far.

Like is holding it in till the ears pop.

Love is farting freely.

Like is dancing in a club with loud music.

Love is dancing in a Ralph's parking lot with no music.

Like is distraction.

Love is motivation.

Like is thanking them for picking up the tab.

Love is thanking God while watching them sleep.

Like is ordering the restaurant's most expensive wine.

Love is ordering-in a pizza and cuddling in one chair.

Like is deep in sleep, dreaming of the next date.

Love is staying up till six a.m. because the company is so good.

Like is waking up to a sweet smile and "Good morning."

Love is waking up to a sweet smile and extra hot, soy chai without being asked. Good morning!

Like is pouring them two parts vodka, one part cranberry.

Love is spiking their Dr. Pepper with Emergen-C.

Like is fickle.

Love is impermeable.

Like is hopeful and idyllic.

Love is what it is because it doesn't know how to be anything else.

Jemima

2009-09-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

Nerd is to Cool as Bonehead is to Reality T.V.

2009-09-16T18:27:00.000-07:00

You ever wonder if you were that lil' nerdy kid in school, and didn't even know it? You always thought it was Gary Brinkerhoff, who had boogers running down his face regardless of the season. But the poor kid probably didn't know he had goobers on his face, or he would've wiped 'em, right? May as well have been me.

Wait...was, or AM, I a Gary Brinkerhoff?!

My eyes are crossed,

but I don't know they're crossed.

(Why are those two red hybrids sharing a lane?)

Maybe

I have a lisp,

but I jussst don't know I have a lisssp.

(Ssssusssie finissshed all the riccce krisssspiess lasst night. Ssshoot.)

I pick my butt,

but I don't know I pick my butt.

(Everyone getsss wedgiesss.)

My mom makes my jeans,

but I DON'T KNOW she makes my jeans.

(Ssshe gave 'em to me for my birthday, what?)

Hey, Kanye...over here!

2009-09-13T23:29:00.000-07:00

Locker Room Scandal

2009-08-14T00:43:00.000-07:00

Every time I go to the gym, I put my bag in the same locker. For two years now. It's become a comfort thing, I guess. It's located in a cozy little corner that doesn't see too much action. Not too close to the showers and not too close to the entrance. It's a medium sized locker that fits my purple duffel perfectly. As I'm walking towards it today, it dawns on me that someone else may have their stuff in MY locker. How offensive. Would I just use the locker next to it? I don't know what I'd do. I mean, it's never happened before. As I approach my locker, I see there is no lock on it. (Sigh)...That's right. No lock, but MY red lock shall grope this handle. I open the metal door. GASP!! There's a tacky, wiry dry cleaning hanger dangling in MY locker! The suction of new air forces the hanger to fall on the metal base with a hollow thud. Grabbing the squatter with two fingers, I chuck it on the floor. How could I have been so naive?! To think, I was the only one...I'd rather walk in on my lover than find an earring in the bed! Feeling betrayed, I stare at the evidence on the floor. Bent from the fall, it's staring back at me. I feel no pity. I inhale deeply and walk across the room towards a cluster of available lockers. I look a large one up and down, examining it's capability of temporarily storing my "no name" purple duffel. There's a small dent in the bottom right hand corner of the door and it's plumper, but other than that, holds an extraordinary resemblance to my original. Ignoring the lockers behind me, I remove the bag from my shoulder and gently place it in my new storage unit. I lightly shut the "damaged goods" door and wrap my rosy lock around the clammy handle.
"I'll only be an hour," I think.
And I'm ready for a run.

The Secret Number

2009-08-12T15:58:00.000-07:00

When my mom and aunt decided that giving personal information out through a cell phone was too risky, the two creative minds devised a code that needed to be cracked...by me. The story was too good and needed to be shared. With some varying of important information and slight exaggeration, I wrote a book. Enjoy.
(Click image to see larger)

Childhood Misconceptions

2009-06-20T22:37:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl I thought I had an adult head screwed on my mini body, but it was just the head of an oversized Raggedy Ann doll. Understandably, kids have limited knowledge due to their innocence, but it's so interesting to see how they relate the world to their little lives. For instance, when I was younger the penny was my favorite coin. I knew it wasn't the most valuable of the pocket change and was the most abundant in my piggy bank. I loved it because I thought it was so neat that the United States Mint had put Mr. Roger's trolley on the tails' side of the penny.

And once, when I still had to sit in the back seat of the Dodge minivan, I asked my mom why the man on the radio sings about dead ears?
I found it weird, but it was still my favorite song.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Yea. Whoop, deeead ears. Whoop, deeead ears."

The song was MC Hammer's "Whoomp There It Is."

Another time, during an after dinner clean-up my parents were washing the dishes as I was still staring at the green beans on my plate. After the news, a t.v. show began in which a young teenager became pregnant. As an early lesson, my cautious mom warned me not to do that. At this time, I thought having a baby just happened magically when least expected, like getting a pimple. So I laughed and said, "like she could help it."

And when my sister was trying to explain the concept of "reading to yourself"- I just couldn't grasp whose voice was in my head. Was it my voice? Or Amelia Bedelia's? Or God's?

Oh, if I could be little again, just for a day. I'd ride my Smurf big wheel, only to the end of the driveway. And have Miss America pageants with my Barbies where they'd have talents like folding socks and knuckle cracking. I would eat macaroni and cheese with thousand island dressing and drink Crush through a red vine.

I didn't know what I had then. Let me appreciate it now.

I Can't Sleep...

2009-06-08T00:43:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep because the springs of the mattress now reside in my ear.

I can't sleep because my neighbor thinks if that slasher movie is loud enough, he won't be scared.

I can't sleep because I'm mentally replaying a clip of an Australian beer commercial in which an Indian man asks, "What is that taste in my mouth?"

I can't sleep because I ate the whole thing!

I can't sleep because my heart is pounding too hard in my big toe.

I can't sleep because I keep recognizing reasons I can't sleep.

Vhat eez dat tehste en mah mawrth?

I can't sleep because I think I ended that headline today with a preposition. Does that old rule still apply? What for?

I can't sleep because my little friend just stopped by to visit without notice.

I can't sleep because my little friend just stopped by to visit without notice and my dress for tomorrow's dinner is white.

I can't sleep because I just remembered today was my sister's friend's dentist's mother's birthday, and I forgot to send a card.

I can't sleep because I'm trying to go to sleep.

Maybe I'll just turn on Dr.Phil and...
ZZzzzzzz...ZZzzzzzz...ZZzzzzzz...

It's Eastertime.

2009-04-11T12:17:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday Jesus!

Oh, wait...

Ridin' the Rails to Albuquerque, eh...

2009-04-07T02:34:00.000-07:00

Bold people. They live on THEIR terms, never focusing on reputation. The Bold don't realize their actions are EXTREMELY independent. They simply live to feel fulfilled, accidently initiating fun. In fact, others emulate this CONFIDENT person exuding "cool." But to the Bold, spontaneity is an outlet of expression. Their energy is contagious. Becoming accustomed to an unpredictable LIFESTYLE, they begin to crave it. These folks with bigger balls than Big Foot perceive life as a memoir of adventure and The Unknown. When life BECOMES stale, they start fresh with a new chapter. The OPPORTUNITY for new pages is endless.

Burritos and Beer

2009-03-14T01:44:00.000-07:00

Fierce Fungi

2009-03-06T00:40:00.000-08:00

I feel so empowered after scrubbing off the vicious mold lurking under my window, keeping me awake. It was just waiting for me to turn off the light and go to sleep. Then, the furry growth would ATTACK! And horrible things would happen, leaving me with respiratory dysfunctions. I almost want to bring it back just so I can tell it off.

HEY! I'm not afraid anymore!

I saaaid, I'm not afraid anymore!

Do you hear me?

I'm not afraid anymore!

Bleach never smelled so good.

Oh, The Things You Find While Cleaning

2009-02-18T02:25:00.001-08:00

According to thesaurus.com...

2009-02-15T19:31:00.001-08:00

Main entry: beautiful

Part of Speech: adjective

Definition: Having qualities that delight the eye.

Isn't that a lovely way to look at life?

Long Distance Call to Turkispam

2009-01-03T22:18:00.000-08:00

Before iPhone and Blackberry, there was your basic cell phone. People who own record players or live without television still have one! It allows incoming and outgoing calls, texts, an alarm to wake up, and a calculator. The "Classics" are at least 6 years old, gray (though probably once black), the size of a premature baby, and as durable as a DeWalt miter saw. While waiting at the doctor's office, you notice others in the room whip out their latest gadgets to check the Lakers score and respond to emails. You whip out ol' Nokia to check the time.

4:08 p.m.

Staring at the boxy, retro digital numbers, you decide to check your text messages. Maybe someone tried to send a text and you didn't hear it...or something.

Inbox.

Booger.

Outbox.

To: Big Rob. - "What u want 4 dinner?"

"Hmmm...what time was that one sent out?"

Message details.

"...3:06 p.m................yep......yep. "

And this act will occur every 15 minutes, because new words are miraculously going to appear.

You're sitting in the waiting room, listening to Michael Bolton and staring at the little boy across from you whose 'map of the world' rash is getting redder by the second.

Bored, your mind wanders.

You've uncovered questions and brilliant revelations and questions and mental to-do lists and questions and obscure old Chinese proverbs. "One piece of mouse foul ruins the whole pot of rice soup." How true.

"2 brains are better than one." Hmmm. So, you open the trusty cell to text a brainy friend your recent reflections.

"Is Cuba REALLY 90 miles from Florida?!"...Send.

Now there's nothing left to do, but wait.

...4:17 p.m...

...Wow, that kid's face looks like a flushed tomato with rosacea...

...Ugh...why isn't Larry responding?!.................(Ding).

Larry: "Uh...i dunno. Y do u ask?"

He wasn't expecting that.

Some help.

You: "Just wonderin."...Send.

All afternoon, Norwegian Larry is confused why he's been asked a question about Cuba, trying to recall any previous conversation on the subject matter. Now, you're officially labeled "Weird" in Larry's book. Literally. He changes your name to "Weirdo" in his address book. So the next time he receives a random text, "Do peanuts grow on trees?" The screen will show "Weirdo has sent a message."

4:21 p.m.

What's next?

Ringtones!

You've had the same one for a year. Surely, there's got to be more than those 6 featured sounds.

(VIBE DOT DASH): "Blee blee bleep blee bleeeep."

(FANFARE): "Blah blah blee blah BOO BOO."

Ignore the mean mugs from fellow patients. It isn't your fault Rex chewed off the volume button in '02.

(ONLYFORPEOPLEWHOPOINT&WINK): "Boda bing boda boom."

(DING): "Ding."

Oh, that one's not bad.

You finally settle on "DING" being the most tolerable, which...is the ringtone you initially had.

4:26 p.m.

"Bobby. The doctor is ready for you."

Hopefully, Dr. Zamoiski can color correct that kid's face. Maybe recommend a blue filter?

Since that'll be a lengthy process, you decide to go through ol' Nokia's address book. Clean it out. See who loves you.

4:27 p.m.

Taye.

Theo.

Timmy K.

Timmy Polarmi

Tink.

Tink? OH!...but what if you ever DID want to call that random, namedropping manwoman you met at the bus stop who reads auras, determines your "clarity," and brews an original blend of Fennel Tea Cleansing Tonic every Monday through Friday with flexible hours and locations? He...she is just a phonecall away! Save...

Tommy G.

Tony Bologna.

Trisha.

Trisha Mueller. You haven't talked to her since '05 while standing in line at Wells Fargo. Give her a call. See how life's been after graduation.

4:29 p.m.

"Hi Trish? It's Ima. Ima Kook...hello!...Goooood! How are you?...Good. Good. Yea, I haven't talked to you in ages, just thought I'd check in. See how you, Mike and Baby Andy are......hello? Can you hear me?...hel...oh, oh, THERE you are! Hahaha...yea, well I'm just at the doctor's office waiting to get an avian rabies shot. It's...what's that?...yea, haha, yea...I'm traveling to Turkispam with Rob next week. He's doing some resear...what's that?...oh, I didn't ever tell you about Rob? Oh, hahaha, it's been TOO LONG! Haha, well he is actually my..."

"Ima, the Dr. will see you now."

Still 4:29 p.m.

"Oh, oh, Trisha...Trish? I've gotta run. It was soooo good catching up with you. Glad all is well! Tell Mike and Baby Andy I say 'hello.'.........Oh, you two aren't together anymore. Well...send Baby An.......7 years old?!?! I'm late on a birthday or 5. Byebye now!"

Then, you get vaccinated. See wild turkispigeons in their natural habitat. And forget all about ol' Trish...until your next moment of absolute boredom with a featureless phone.

Midwestern Charm

2008-12-23T13:11:00.001-08:00

cheery...not cherry

Frozen Anus Dripsicles

2008-12-19T11:12:00.000-08:00

If you've ever walked along the Venice boardwalk, most likely you've noticed that people will do anything to get a buck. Some paint their entire body silver in 90 degree heat and act as statues, barely flinching a muscle only when money is dropped in the bucket. The outcome is a crowd of 30 onlookers and a tin man moving a grand total of 2 feet in 12 hours. Watching a college student perform a backflip costs $1. And no matter the time of year you'll hear, "Jin-gle bells, jin-gle bells...help me get drunk." Not the catchiest of tunes, but at least his lack of excuse is humorous. So, here's fifty cents.

Any tactic to gain income is acceptable. Anything...

L.A. is for Lovers

2008-12-09T18:15:00.000-08:00

Dear Keeper of Time

2008-12-06T21:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Keeper of Time,

I would really appreciate if you would consider adding an eighth day to our current seven day week. As I'm sure you've heard before, "There is never enough time." You sir, have the power to change this. I've enclosed a petition of 7,341,638,206 names of people who agree with this proposal. They concur, it would help a great deal. An eighth day would leave time to make cookies from scratch (SCRATCH, homie, lay eggs, churn butter, & all), jump up and down on the bed until the floor gives in (there never seems to be enough time for that), or play shuffleboard at an assisted living resort in Florida for eleven hours straight (because why should eighty year olds have all the fun). You see, Keeper of Time, there are a great many ways to spend an eighth day. It would be eminently appreciated if you would indeed consider my logical submission.

Too crunched for time to say 'thank you,'

-Buj