FALLINGAWAYWITHYOU

SOOOOOOO . . . here are a few of my pictures from spring break, april 2010, in england and scotland.

late, yes, but suck it.

not a whole lot to say about my trip, other than it reaffirmed my love of all things united kingdom . . . and that i want to live there forever and ever and ever and EVER.

this time, no-one called me a "fat cunt" and prompted me to jump off of a bridge.

PROBABLY BECAUSE I DIDN'T GO TO WALES!

j/k.

i love my welsh peeps.

i had an incredible time--one i won't soon forget. wish i could do justice to all the beauty i saw, but alas, i have a shit camera.

basically, take my word for it and visit. and even if you've already gone, go back!

it's THAT wonderful.

lovely place. lovely people.

go.

NOW!

(all photos: edinburgh, scotland, uk. such a GORGEOUS place, edinburgh. more gorgeous, i think, than london. too bad the weather was utter shite and i couldn't take more or better photos. seriously fucking cool place. as if i wasn't already in love with the uk!)

(you just have to LOOOOOOOVE a people whose motto is: NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT. in latin: no-one injures me with impunity. or as i like to put it: nobody fucks with me and gets away with it, beeeeeeeyotch!)



(below: somewhere near auchterarder, scotland, uk.)

(so, i know you're tempted to say, "lana! OMG, you dyed your hair red, girl!" but actually, this isn't me, it's an aberdeen angus . . . AND I LOOOOOOOVE THEM! i named this one molly. they come in black, too! a bit like chewbacca made love with a cow.)


(THIS is me--though NOT in the uk. but it's me. and it's me from an angle that doesn't make me look fat. it IS possible. i call it the "facebook angle". you ever notice that almost all facebook photos are from THIS angle? it's because it makes people look thinner. like me. if you saw me in real life, you'd wonder, "who is the person in THIS picture?" . . . no, really.)

(all photos: fuck-if-i-remember, england, uk. this was either on the way TO oxford or on the way back to london FROM oxford. senility is hitting me early, y'all.)




(all photos: oxfordshire, england, uk. blenheim palace, birthplace of sir winston churchill.)






(all photos: london, england, uk. walk along the thames.)

(wish i could say this photo is about showing you a beautiful tree in brilliant bloom, but it's more about showing you two stupid twats in the center of my shot going around picking daffodils in the park. fucking bitches! you see with your eyes, not with your hands, damn you!)


(just keepin' it classy, y'all. keepin' it classy.)


(i loved this painting, though i can remember neither its name nor its artist's name . . . it's hanging in the tate modern, though, if you want to pop by.)

(all photos: london, england, uk. borough market . . . GET IN MY BELLY!)

STOCKHOLMSYNDROME

(all photos: june 2010, sequoia national park, ca.)

my favorite place on earth.

THOUGHTSOFADYINGATHEIST

while we're on the subject of THINGS THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN TO LANA BANANA, let's talk about weddings . . .

and bridal diapers!

you heard me.

BRIDAL D I A P E R S.

that's right, ladies, if you ever find yourself under 700 pounds of unweildy tulle, crinoline and silk on your wedding day with a dire need for the loo, then look no further than your own underpants!

'cause who needs a toilet when you've got BRIDAL DIAPERS?!

after all, they're not just for infants and seniors anymore!


("it's like a g-string, honey, but not, if you see what i mean.")

now when you say, "I DO!" . . . you can also say, "I DOO DOO!" . . . or, "I POO! . . . and/or, "I PEE!"

i'm here all week folks . . .

TIMEISRUNNINGOUT

i teach kids.

well, more often than not, they teach ME, but this aside . . . i teach kids.

i don't want to HAVE kids. you know, as in, birth them and bring them up.

that's right, i said it: i am 33 and i don't want to have kids.

forever, you ask?

probably.

more than likely. (if anything, i might adopt older children.)

and NO, i'm not infertile. NO, my parent's didn't beat me. NO, i wasn't molested or otherwise sexually assaulted . . . EVER. NO, i wasn't bullied as a child.

i am FINE.

i just don't want to have kids.

is this so hard to believe?

yesterday, someone--a person whom i love and who knows me well--got into a conversation about this with me. as teachers, we had a lengthy discussion about parenting (the good, the bad and the ugly) . . . which ended with our own feelings about procreating.

she--a beautiful, solvent and intelligent (emotionally, mentally, spiritually, financially) woman in her early 30s--declared she is all but itching for children of her own.

i said i could pass. that if the planets aligned just right, then maaaaaaaybe, but that, as above, more than likely not.

this is what i got: "how can a TEACHER not want babies? i just don't get how someone who obviously loves children so much cannot want some of her own."

on and on and on . . .

it doesn't end there.

seems like every person i tell--man or woman--about my NON-desire is bowled over.

if i told people i enjoyed drowning puppies in my spare time, i could NOT get more damning looks.

a while back, i fell for an amazing man. i said to myself, "self, this is THE one."

amongst other things--and i'll be the first to admit that there were, indeed, OTHER THINGS--the relationship ended because, as he put it, "ONE DAAAAAAAY, lana, you'll change your mind. you'll want kids." he didn't want more children (he already had two from a previous marriage), but was 100% certain i WOULD.

REALLY???

i mean, fucking REALLY???

can i have tomorrow's lottery numbers while you're at your crystal ball, you fucking prick (note: he's not REALLY a prick, i'm just riled)?!

this is such complete, utter poppycock!

i guess i'm just stupid because i don't get it. i just don't get it. why is it perfectly fine for a man to say he doesn't want children, but sacrilegious for a woman to claim the same?

that's not a rhetorical question.

i'm serious.

any takers?

SINGFORABSOLUTION

ACTUAL comments i put on students' essays from semester I:

1) "Dear _____,
There is nothing you cannot achieve if you work hard enough. Life puts up walls not to block you from your dreams, but to force you to prove the strength of your desires. Build a ladder, climb a rope, go around, or dig a hole . . . Whatever you must do to get to other side of life's walls, do it. Work harder next time."

2) "Dear _____,
People can take everything away from you . . . cars, clothes, money, family, friends and even your dignity. The only thing people can't take away from you is what you put inside your mind. Work harder next time."

3) "Dear _____,
You're beautiful, but only your brain will get you into college. Long after your beauty has faded, your mind's radiance will still shine. Work harder next time."

do y'all see a theme developing here?

4) "Dear _____,
I was born in another country, came to the US as a poor immigrant who didn't speak the language, my father was killed by a drunk driver when I was just 10, crime and drugs ran rampant in my neighborhood and I have dyslexia. I was also on varsity cheerleading, practiced karate, did student council and volunteered at a home for senior citizens in high school, then graduated at the top of my class and obtained a full scholarship to UCLA, where I, again, graduated with highest honors.

You can make excuses or you can make it happen. Make it happen. Work harder next time."

AND FINALLY, AS I WAS ABOUT TO DRINK THE MAGIC KOOL AID AND CALL IT A DAY . . . REDEMPTION . . .

5) "Dear _____,
THANK YOU for working so hard on this piece. Your dedication to knowledge and self-improvement is an inspiration to me. You make being a teacher worthwhile."

i work my ass off teaching, and it really sucks when, despite my best efforts, my students blow me off. fortunately, making me happy is easy . . . just one hard-working kid reeled me back into the craft.

BUTTERFLIESANDHURRICANES

apparently, i have a thing for close-up nature photography . . . sue me.

maybe this cantankerous exterior of mine has a few cracks.

maybe not.

(all photos: august 2010, san juan capistrano, ca. sjc mission.)

HOORAYFORHOLLYWOOD

(2010: huntington beach, ca. holly, femme fatale extraordinaire.)

i don't have many friends.

it's true.

hard to believe, i know, right? all this charm, grace and eloquence . . . and only a handful of friends.

fact is that it takes a special, brilliant, clever, attractive, interesting, intelligent, intellectual, witty, strong, vivacious sort of person to be friends with me.

enter holly vance of crime, thriller, horror and one bad romance.

holly is one of the fiercest women i've ever met: a devoted teacher, a loyal friend and a talented writer . . .

yesterday, she fired up her own corner of the net. if you like me, you'll LOVE her. actually, even if you hate me, you'll STILL love her. ACTUALLY, if you're breathing and have just two synapses to rub together, you'll love her 'cause she's just that fab.

word.

HATETHISANDI'LLLOVEYOU

i was going to write y'all a valentine's day poem, but i thought you might prefer a picture of me.

yeah, so . . . happy valentine's day!

xoxo,

lana

SUPERMASSIVEBLACKHOLE

(just wanted all of you to see that i'm STILL keepin' it classy.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

yeah, it's mid-february. so fucking what? i got a late start.

and yeah, i know my last post was LAST january . . . i ain't getting paid for this shit, after all . . .

SUNNYDAYSWEEPIN'THECLOUDSAWAY

(2010: anaheim, ca. the view outside my balcony. palm trees and a perfectly clear, blue sky. mmmmmmm. this is what i's talkin' 'bout, yo!)

fuck yeah!

THE SUN IS OUT.

THE SKY IS BLUE (i no longer am).

and my will to live is BACK!

you know, i'm from southern california. before socal, i was on the pacific beaches of costa rica.

i am not used to rain.

i am especially not used to SIX STRAIGHT DAYS of rain.

(or, you know, uh, tornado warnings in the next town over, long beach, which is only 15 minutes away!)

if we'd had another day of rain, i may have had to kill myself.

fortunately, the gods have smiled upon me and i live to whinge another day.

woohoo!

RAINDROPSAREFALLIN'ONMYHEAD

("deluge" by brij sondhi. meerut, india.)

kid: ms. banana, did you know it's going to rain about 10 feet this week?!?!
me: oh, yeah? how do YOU know?
kid: i read about it.
me: (i call bullshit!) no way.
kid: no, seriously.
me: no, i mean, there's NO WAY you actually read something . . .

so, yes, it's been pouring in el lay since monday. the rain has washed away roads, houses, hillsides, people, my will to live . . .

WETELLEACHOTHERFAIRYTALES

when did i exchange fearlessness for fear?
when did i exchange courage for apathy?
when did i exchange hope for despair?

it is little wonder i am left with nothing.

poor of spirit.
poor of heart.
poor of mind.

a beggar at life's table.

lem

SHE'SMYCHERRYPIE

the bitches' cooking club met last night.

yes, i agree, i probably shouldn't be part of a group that meets expressly for the purposes of getting drunk and stuffing their collective face.

but it's only once a month, so i think i'm safe.

(uh huh, this is what addicts tell themselves, too. i know)

anyhow, it was delicious, loud, rude and funny.

fifteen women and more university degrees than you can shake a stick at, but no outside observer would ever have guessed we're a supremely gifted group given the topics we covered:

1) why bacon makes everything better. possibly even sex. (maybe THAT'S my problem. i clearly don't eat enough pork.)

2) how robert redford is still worth fucking, even though the skin on his face looks like shoe leather.

3) a lengthy discussion on heidi montag's new plastic surgery . . . the consensus was that plastic surgery is cool if A) you do it for YOURSELF and B) you're aware it won't make up for your lack of active synapses . . . no matter how big the implants.

4) 80s movies really are THE BEST.

5a) REEEEEEEAAAAAAALLLLLLLY nice furniture makes up for not having a steady, solid, solvent, sane, sensitive, secure, sweet boyfriend ANY DAY.

5b) we all wish we liked pussy as much as cock because then we could be lesbians and generally avoid dealing with the opposite sex.

and last, but not least, we need a new name.

"cooking club chicks", we all agreed, sucks.

so, if you have any suggestions, we'd love to hear 'em.

LIKEABLISTERINTHESUN

true story (i have to say this 'cause with all the craziness that goes on in my life, y'all must think i make this shit up. well, i don't):

on thursday of this week, ms. teacher x (not her real name), who teaches next door to me (american literature, ages 15-17), sees a flash go off in her first class of the day. it's early and there are only 5 students in her room.

mx: you cannot take photos of me or of my classroom. you know this. it's in my syllabus. and it's against school rules to have your phone out in class. please delete that picture from your phone at once.

kid: sure, no problem. sorry. there . . . it's deleted.

mx: show me. i want to make sure it's gone. bring me your phone.

kid: sure. here's my phone.

at this point, ms. x takes the kid's phone and scrolls through the photos as the kid watches over her shoulder.

she doesn't find her picture, but she does, suddenly, see a photo of the kid's penis.

yes, the kid's penis.

barf.

ms. x summarily clasps the phone shut, thrusts it back into the kid's hand and looks away.

OMFG.

kid: i'm so sorry, ms. x. i forgot that was on there. i'm sorry. i'm sorry. it was for a girl, she asked me to do it.

mx: i understand.

then, she picks up the phone, calls security, who confiscates the phone and escorts the kid down to the dean of discipline, where his parents are called and asked to come to school for a conference with THE WHOLE WORLD.

if that'd been me instead of ms. x, i would've died.

to ms. x's credit, she was calm and composed . . . the consummate professional.

after the kid leaves, the other students ask, "why'd you do that? it was just a picture!"

yeah, JUST a picture that can JUST be photoshopped in JUST about a million different ways . . . some of which could get her fired.

anyway, the kid went back to class yesterday. he was, according to ms. x, good-natured and mature about the whole thing. apologized to her, again. understood why she had to turn him in . . .

i mean, can you imagine if she hadn't?

kid: hey, guys, ms. x saw a picture of my wang . . .

and then the whole thing gets all out of whack.

the moral: if you're gonna take pictures of your privates, make sure you delete them afterwards. hmmm?

ANDTHEYCALLEDITPUPPYLOVE

i confiscated this from a male student in my english I (ages 13-15) class. i was lecturing and saw he was feverishly scribbling in the back . . . at first, i was flattered, thinking he was so diligent in his lecture notes, but then . . .

verbatim (mistakes and all), you know, except the names, 'cause i'm a bitch, but not that big a bitch:

"Dear Jane,

To start I LOVE YOU! I wanna spend the rest of my life with you because you make me happy and when I'm around you I feel like if there's butterflies in my stomach.

I thought I would be able to stop loving you, but it is impossible. I grew too attached to you and I have so many great memories with you.

I'm so thankful that I met you because you're different from every other girl because you're beautiful, smart, brilliant, caring and you're just a "keeper".

I'm sorry for all the harm I've caused you. I wish I could just take all of it back, but like you told me, "You learn from your mistakes."

I look forward to the future. Do you think we'll ever get married? I guess we'll find out when we're older.

Remember that I promise you that we will never ever leave each other or break apart. I'm keeping my promise forever and ever. Just remember that even though we're fighting, I'm always going to be right here for you no matter what happens.

I want you because I notice that when you are around me you're happy and I always want you to be happy. I want you so I can spoil you with love and everything you need. I want you because I know I can treat you better than those piece of shit exes you had, who hurt your heart. I don't want you to go through all of that again.

CONTRACT

By the power in vested in me, Bob, I give you, Jane, my body, my heart and my soul. The only way this contract can be broken is if the owner of Bob, you, Jane, decides that you don't want me anymore.

Love,

Bob

PS:

Ummm . . . I love you, Boo.

PPS:

Let's get married?

PPPS:

You have BEAUTIFUL eyes!"

now, why can't i get men to say/do this kind of shit for ME?!?!

wait, don't answer that.

ps: i gave the kid his letter back.

pps: but not until i'd read it and transcribed it for posterity.

ppps: yeah, ok, I AM THAT BIG A BITCH.

pppps: fuck you, you'd have done the same thing.

WESHALLOVERCOME

(harvey milk: 1930-1978, civil/gay rights activist.)

the gay community is fighting for their right to marry, again. this time in federal court.

what the fuck?

i mean it: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!

are we really doing this?

are we really denying gays the rights we extend to everyone ELSE, just because some of us are uncomfortable with someone ELSE'S sexuality?

"you're gay, so therefore less than someone who's straight, so you deserve less. period." is that the opposition's argument? more or less?

fuck off with your blatant discrimination.

you know, someday we're going to look back at this debacle and feel the same way we do when we look back at slavery and segregation: STUPID.

what's so "sacred" about marriage, anyway?

there is a 50+% divorce rate in america! doesn't that tell you something? you can get married in VEGAS! doesn't that tell you something? britney spears was allowed to marry! hell-fucking-o, people! as far as "deserving" things goes, she hardly deserves to breathe, much less marry . . .

give gays the same right to be miserable as everyone else!

but that's not even the point, is it?

even if every heterosexual couple who ever got married lived in complete bliss, that STILL wouldn't mean gays should not be allowed to enter into the same social contract and receive the same benefits under the law.

i mean, we are talking about GROWN, TAX-PAYING, AMERICAN men and women here, are we not?

whatever happened to separation of church and state?

anyone?

anyone?

bueller?

that we have to go to court . . . and likely the supreme court at that . . . just to figure out that denying a person rights based on color, creed, gender, OR SEXUAL PREFERENCE is . . . i don't know . . . TOTALLY FUCKING WRONG . . . just seems to me pretty pathetic.

but if history has taught us anything it's this: battles are not won by those who sit and wait for change, who idle on the sidelines, but by those who make their voices heard.

STEPBACKFROMTHATLEDGE,MYFRIEND

thanks to sion barry, i've now received various inquiries as to why, specifically, my mom and i did not have a good trip in wales last spring.

let me clarify: we didn't have a good trip. period.

it wasn't wales, per se, it was the whole of the united kingdom.

my mom just hates great britain. end of story. i don't know why. i don't even think SHE knows why! she just does. i love it. she hates it. that's all there is to it. no rhyme. no reason. just an instant, inexplicable, visceral reaction to the place.

now, true story . . . i did have one very bad night in cardiff during that infamous trip, which has forced me to sort of loathe the place.

here's what happened . . .

my mom had fallen asleep at like 6pm because she thinks wales is shit and there was no good reason to walk about because there was nothing really good to see (her opinion, not mine). so, at around 9pm, bored nearly to the point of insanity, i dressed up and went out for a stroll, alone.

at one point during my walk, i was standing across the street from the seaside of cardiff castle on a tiny piece of bridge overlooking what i think was millennium stadium (not sure, it was very dark and close to midnight).

then, two groups of twenty-something (about 10 and 10 each), highly inebriated boys dressed in roman outfits (no, i'm serious), loudly crooning rugby songs came walking towards me.

i stayed on the bridge, looking towards the sea, not really paying them any attention.

as the first group approached, they stopped singing their rugby tunes and started singing this little diddy, "JUMP, JUMP FAT CUNT! JUMP, JUMP FAT CUNT!" (it's all the rage in underground clubs, i hear.)

yeah, i know, right?

not even i could make this kind of shit up.

i looked around to see if i could spot the fat cunt that was apparently on the verge of committing suicide, so that i could talk her out of it, but didn't see her anywhere.

look to the left. no.
look to the right. no.
behind me. no.

OHHHHHHH, wait, the fat cunt to whom the stupid cunts were referring was ME!

but before i could muster my best go-fuck-yourself look-of-death, the boys had already passed by me.

fortunately, i was to get a second chance when the second group of twats came nearer to me and, having heard the first groups of boys singing the cool, new song, likewise joined in for a chorus.

"JUMP, JUMP FAT CUNT! JUMP, JUMP FAT CUNT!"

this batch, though, was sweet enough, courteous enough to ask me if i'd like some assistance over the bridge.

i graciously declined.

yeah, you know, if there hadn't been 20 of them and just one of me, i'd have fucked some people up.

and yes, i may be fat, but 20+ years of martial arts have not gone completely to waste. and while they'd have gotten the upper hand, i, ms. banana, would have gone down in a blaze of glory.

what did i actually do, though, throughout the ordeal?

nothing.

i stood there and said nothing.

then, shaking, i hailed a cab, even though i was just down the street at the hilton, and cried.

so, yeah, suffice it to say i have a bit of a sour taste in my mouth when it comes to cardiff.

BUT . . .

for the record, i love wales. and i love the welsh, save those fuckers on the bridge that night. and i love the welsh language. and i'll keep loving wales and telling people about all of the great times i've had there. because it's true. the good times i've had in wales far outweigh the bad . . . and what more can you ask?

cymru am byth and all that jazz.

WON'TYOUTAKEMETOFUNKYTOWN

went to disneyland last night (yes, alone. i could have gone with a friend, but there's only one thing more pathetic than a 32 year old, single woman at disneyland and that's TWO 30 year old, single women at disneyland).

i live maybe 5 minutes away, so i caved-in and bought an annual pass. figured i'd mix-up my cardio a bit and run around there. (ps: by "run", i mean walk at a brisk pace. if i actually ran, i'd have a heart attack. plus, i'd lose all the fat on my ass and then where would i be? i'd have guys pawing and jockeying for me and shit . . . and maybe i'd find a true soulmate, someone who would love me and see how funny and smart i can be when i'm not trying to be self-deprecating and emotionally distant as a means of avoiding further disappointment and rejection . . . and what? wait. oh, i'm digressing, aren't i? fuck.)

$439 later: i parked in the wrong parking structure, had to shove my way past stupid, slow-moving tourists clogging downtown disney's mile-long promenade, took the WORST ID photo ever known to mankind (is that me or is that me after i've been shot and left for dead, floating about in a florida swamp during the peak of summer? holy rotund face, batman!), got barf on my shoe from a little kid who happened to throw up just as i walked past (no, it's ok, these shoes are only $200 trainers), and sat next to another "single rider" on splash mountain . . . who felt it was important to tell me his whole life's story before the ride ended, even if it meant screaming over the voices of the animatronic characters.

but the coup de grace came while i was standing in line at indiana jones and the temple of doom and a person who, by their scent, i could tell had NEVER seen the inside of a shower, much less used one, stood SO CLOSE to me that i could have comfortably performed a physical on them. within the span of 5 minutes this person must have bumped into me at least 7 or 8 times. i thought they were trying to obtain carnal knowledge of me, which under most circumstances is fine, but not on this particular occasion.

today, i'm trying to figure out if there's any way i can cancel my pass 'cause, frankly, i pass.

FREAKSCOMEOUTATNIGHT

i wish i knew a lot of things.

i wish i knew how to speak french (although, recently, a very delightful person taught me how to properly fake a french accent. not the same thing, but pretty close).

i wish i knew how to cook beef bourguignon, just like julia child, except faster.

i wish i knew how to be myself without all the profanity.

i wish i knew why the fuck old, douche bag boyfriends feel fucking compelled to fucking call me every fucking january (so much for not cussing).

honestly now, how predictable!

so far--AND IT'S ONLY THE 9th--i've received:

a text message: "hey, long time. hope you are well. happy new year. miss you."
what i'd reply, if i could be bothered: not long enough.

a voicemail: "lana, it's mr. douche (not this person's real name). not really sure why i'm calling you, except that i've been thinking a lot about us. blah, blah, blah, you probably don't want to speak with me . . . blah, blah, blah."
what i'd reply, if i could be bothered: hey, douchie, i'm not really sure why you're calling me, either. i haven't been thinking about you, at all. allow me to clear up any doubts you may have: i don't want to speak with you.

an email: "it's the new year and i'm reflecting on all the great times we had. i would love to make more."
what i'd reply, if i could be bothered: it's the new year and i'm reflecting on all the great times i'm about to have . . . without you.

1) some audacity to think i'm still available!!! (ok, so, i'm STILL available, but that's besides the point!)

2) we broke up for a reason, guys! (actually, A LOT of reasons.) and while i may be a glutton for some sorts of punishment, y'all are way beyond my scope of enjoyment.

DEEPINSIDEOFYOU

here's a smattering of shots i like from my april 2009 trip to the uk with my mom . . .

(st. fagan's welsh life outdoor museum, cardiff, wales.)






(cardiff centre, wales.)

(why should i smile? i'm in cardiff!)

(tintern abbey, chepstow, wales.)








(all over the lake district, england.)