crazy times only get crazier

2010-07-19T09:53:00.001-07:00

gee, thanks.

it's amazing how sometimes the smallest things can totally alter your mood. i literally had just changed my gchat status to say, "i'm having a dance party by myself at 9:50am on a Monday. perfect." but then my iTunes decided to pull Tom Petty's "Learning to Fly" out of the mix, and i was no longer amused.

thanks a lot, asshole.

2010-07-01T09:25:00.001-07:00

Friday, i'm in love.

click for details

and RSVP, suckas!

2010-06-28T17:50:00.000-07:00

I HEART ROSSMORE.

darlings, please check out the ultra-rad write up that Refinery 29 did on my girl Suzy LeQ and her amazing jewelry line, Rossmore.

love, love, love!

2010-06-02T09:49:00.000-07:00

last published on August 6, 2009

ever since i can remember, interests have flown in and out, and back in and out of my life. much like the water cycle, after evaporation and condensation run their course, it's inevitably going to rain again. for example, when i was in third grade, i was really into horses - so much so that everyday at recess and lunch Kimmie McAllister and i would prance around on all fours and pretend that we actually were horses. then all of a sudden, one day after finishing my peanut butter and honey sandwich i decided i wanted to walk upright again, and alas, was no longer a horse. years later, i rekindled my love for the hoofed mammals, but seeing as i was older and wiser at this point, chose to ride one instead of be one. i was convinced that my calling in life was to be part of the equestrian community. every chance i could, i went riding - shit, i even went to horse camp (for lack of a better term) that summer. and then once school started again in the fall, horses were quickly replaced by other things like YM magazine, friendship bracelets, and boys.

the same revolving door policy does not apply to my personal relationships. my friends who are near and dear to me are in my world for a very specific reason: because i want them there. now don't get me wrong, i definitely have a list of people who i don't see often enough, or who have moved far, far away but at the end of the day, the space i set aside for them in my heart remains constant. fuck me over, and that's a different story... which leads me to past lovers, if you will.

when it comes to exes, i've never been one to "want to go to horse camp" after a relationship, romantic in nature, has run it's course. once i'm done, i'm done. sometimes i'm over it for a very specific, valid reason, and sometimes i simply "don't feel it" anymore. reasons aside, i'm not a friends with exes kind of gal. never have been. never will be? eh, this is a concept i'm currently having trouble with. for the first time, i'm experiencing an overwhelming urge to keep in contact with someone i've said "i love you" to, and actually meant it. why now? why him? these are questions i've been grappling with the past week or so, and honestly i'm not sure i'll ever fully be able to answer them. is this a sign of maturity? or a small bout of weakness? whatever it is, i'm not sure i like it very much. i have always been a person who makes a decision and feels good about it - this seems like a lose-lose to me. it's frightening, really. like when you finally admit to yourself that the person you're into could very well be into you, too. like when your parents sat you down and told you Christmas is a holiday invented by Hallmark so that they can sell limited edition holiday ornaments every year.

speaking of which, maybe i'll add a pony to my Christmas wishlist this year. at least some things never change.

2009-08-06T18:41:00.000-07:00

sugar and spice and everything nice

last night Nikki and i were reliving the greatest (and not so greatest but in the best way possible) moments of her birthday party this past weekend, and we came to the conclusion that we have the greatest friends in the whole fucking world. now i know that everyone says that, but honestly, when i sit back and think about all of the people i have in my life i feel incredibly blessed and sometimes take for granted that not everyone has such an amazing circle of friends.

* warning *
this post is about to get ridiculously saccharine-laced.

sometimes in life you meet someone, and almost instantly you know this person was meant to be a part of your life because...

... this person not afraid to dance with you at shows like no one is watching, and would drop anything and everything for you in a time of need.

... when you're having a bad day, this person tells you it's "your day" and there is no one else in the world who you'd rather have be the plug to your socket.

... no matter how crazy the world makes you feel, this person makes you feel sane and loved unconditionally.

... whether you're in the mood to stir up some trouble, or need to vent after a crappy day, this person is only a speed dial call away.

... you share the same quirks and seemingly small but ever important likes and dislikes with this person, and certain things just don't feel right when they're not around.

... you have so much ridiculous fun with this person, and you both agree there are multiple times where you should have easily been dead in result of said fun.

... this person never fails to put a smile on your face and make you feel like an incredible human being simply because they are an incredible human being.

... 23 years of friendship is still at the top of this person's "important things" list despite the fact that your lives have gone in completely opposite directions.

... every time you're with this person you feel like you're 17 again, dancing at Tiger Heat - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

... no matter how busy you both are, this person always puts forth time and effort to see you, and when you finally do see each other it feels like no time has passed at all.

... everyone needs a giant in their life.

... you want to put this person in a little glass jar on your shelf because they are so darned cute.

... no one in the world aside from this person understands the importance of a taco as big as your head.

... your shared love for 90's music alone easily makes this person one of the most awesome people on earth.

... this person feels like your best friend from 2nd grade who always traded you their granola bar for your fruit roll-up.

ok, i'm making myself sick. i could go on, and on, and on... but i doubt you're even still reading this so i'll spare us both. in short, i freaking love my friends.

2009-07-07T00:26:00.000-07:00

surprise, surprise.

i stumbled across my old livejournal account yesterday and spent a good hour or so reading over nonsense ramblings from my 21 year old self... for the most part, it helped me realize that i have in fact "grown up" over the past few years (thank goodness), but there were a few posts like this one that solidified the fact that some things will just never change:

December 29, 2004

rain, rain go away...

...and don't come again another day because its so fucking cold right now i can barely stand up straight. but i suppose i shouldn't really be complaining, right? i mean after all, compared to what's happening in southeast asia, a little rain is nothing. wrong. a little rain turns the city into complete fucking morons. do you know what made "headline news" this morning? the la river.

some of you may be thinking "we have an la river?" the answer is yes, folks. the most recognizable part of la river is a man-made concrete ditch section created mostly for runoff and rainy seasons such as the one we're experiencing - drainage purposes and what not. 99% of the year when it's 77 degrees and sunny the la river is simply half full of dirty fucking water, heroin needles, and dead prostitutes. "well bob, take a look at a shot of the la river this morning... it's a bit full today, huh?" yes you fucking moron it just rained five inches yesterday alone. of course it's "a bit full today". boo freaking hoo, a fucking tree fell over. there was a EARTHQUAKE/TSUNAMI half way across the world that took the lives of tens of thousands of innocent people... remember that? leave it fucking southern california to give more news coverage to the la river.

i just love me... because today i would have written a similar rant about all of this Michael Jackson bullshit in the midst of a budget crisis. please don't start with the "Michael was the King of Pop...", "Michael was a legend..." nonsense because i danced to Billie Jean just as many times as you did after the news hit. yes, MJ was a great entertainer but in no way does he warrant closing the ENTIRE freeway from Forest Lawn to Staples Center while his funeral procession passes. what ever happened to a good old fashioned police escort? everyone bitched about spending money on a Lakers parade, but all of a sudden it's ok to break the bank for a man who once made great music and then turned into a child molesting freak who named both of his sons Prince Michael?

i know, i know... he was acquitted. so was OJ.

2009-06-22T23:07:00.000-07:00

everything happens for a reason? umm... hell yes.

despite the fact we had just seen each other within a 12 hour time period, Dani and i were feeling a bit of separation anxiety this morning so we decided that dinner was in order. after a lovely meal at La Grange next to the girl from Californication and her real-life parents, we're walking back to my car and i realize i don't have my keys. yes, i am fully aware that my purse is over stuffed with useless nonsense, but i knew they weren't in there.

feeling slightly panicked i had locked them in my car, we run over and press our faces on the driver's and passenger's side windows, respectively, only to find that not only did i leave my fucking keys in the ignition, but Dani left her door unlocked. so she opened the door, unlocked mine, i turned the key without so much as flinching, and we laughed the whole way home.

2009-06-11T12:13:00.000-07:00

Calgon, take me away.

i'm having one of those days. shit, i'm having one of those weeks. i have zero desire to do anything work related (hence a minimum of one Twitter update per hour, multiple Tumblr links, this mid-day blogging treat for you, etc.), and have an insatiable urge to spend every last penny that i don't have. eerily, i've just about convinced myself that it would be ok if i made the minimum payment on my Visa this month if it meant i was going to buy the Dolce Vita sandals i've had my eye on for a while. i have issues.

speaking of issues... my lovely co-worker Rachel decided it would be a good idea to send me a wonderful article about a bird in San Francisco that has decided to randomly attack people for no apparent reason as they walk down the street. just when i thought i couldn't possibly hate/fear birds any more than i did... thanks, Rach. you're the best!

but it could be worse. i could be this poor lady. the world is fucked up.

speaking of fucked up... i just bought the Dolce Vita sandals. i'm an idiot.

2009-06-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

feeling all nostalgic, and shit.

thirty seconds ago i was reading a friend's blog, and all it made me realize is that i miss blogging. how lame is that? obviously it's not that lame because here you are reading this so clearly you miss me blogging, too. i mean, you just typed in this url knowing you were going to read 6+ month old posts. so who's the loser now, loser?

kidding. (kind of.)

so keep your eyes peeled. in the meantime, this can tide you over.

2008-12-21T10:51:00.000-08:00

la-la-la-la-love

2008-09-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

back in the saddle again

and to what horrifically fantastic topic do we owe my re-emergence into the blogosphere world? David Blaine. that's right, i said it. David freaking Blaine. let me explain...

this morning i rolled out of bed and successfully lugged my desk that just sold via Craigslist out of my room without giving myself a hernia. i put on a pot of coffee, and cracked open the old laptop to see what's going on in the world. the first headline that catches my eye reads, "Daredevil's stunt is a dud," with a subheadline stating, "The 'dive of death' finale to David Blaine's latest trick was a big letdown for some in the crowd." wait, WHAT? people were actually shocked that David Blaine is a huge crock of shit? oh the humanity...

i couldn't resist. i clicked on the article and proceeded to read the most idiotic waste of cyberspace ever imaginable. as reported by Yahoo "News", "I am totally unimpressed," Joshua Yoselowitz, a 31-year-old banker, told AFP. "I'd rather be at home. If his name hadn't been David Blaine I would never have come." darling Joshua Yoselowitz, you should be totally unimpressed by a douche bag whose previous claims to fame include sitting on a block of ice, locking himself in a plexiglass box, and being buried alive. the only thing involving David Blaine that could remotely impress me is if his hair managed to not catch on fire after some one threw a bag of flaming dog poop at his head. New York tabloid the Daily News passed its own verdict, saying: "Some folks are already saying the achievement should be marked with an asterisk." PEOPLE! do you even hear the words coming out of your own mouths? well, some other folks (ME) are saying the word "achievement" should be stricken from any sentence that is even referring to David Blaine.

it's comforting to know that at a time where our government is talking about a huge financial bailout to save our faltering economy some one, some where, is being paid to write about David Blaine. god bless America.

2008-04-16T08:13:00.000-07:00

well it's a marvelous night for a Moondance:
THE PHENOMENON KNOWN AS APRIL 13, 2008

you know you're in for a fucking fantastic day when at 8:30am it's 75 degrees out and you already find yourself at the beach. Dave dug a hole, there was a naked, pregnant baby running around, and i met a little boy named Liam who apparently was a mute. Staci appropriately categorized him under "Silence of the Liam".

around 12:45pm i was making my way back to the beach for no less than the third time that day, this time with Joyce and two carafes of sangria in tow. after Joyce and i watched Jessie, Ian and Brett try to bring out the maximum amount of Mexican-ness in Dave by kicking around a Dodger blue soccer ball (* please see below for more Mex-tasticness), we polished off the sangria and headed straight to The Whaler for what else but more drinking. thanks to my pseudo-celebrity status, (at one point me, Nikki and Dani were such regulars that every time we even approached the bar there would be three Scooby Snacks waiting for us, minus the whip, of course) we skipped the waiting list and scored a table outside where we then proceeded to throw back pitcher after pitcher of Hefeweizen. except Brett. Brett is apparently too cool to drink the everyday man's wheat beer, but did redeem himself with many a pint of Stella. i've always been a fan of the Artois.

but i digress...

after losing one soldier and playing musical sunglasses, we went through more rounds of the "damn it needs a better name and more defined rules but for now i'll just call it the letter game" than i can remember. we did, however, in our drunken state, manage to come up with the brilliant of addition of the comma followed by explanation/justification feature. for example, on the letter "w" my twisted mind brought out "what what, as in can i get a." this new feature made me feel much better about myself due to the fact that the only word that started with a "w" that i could think of at the time was "what." so proud to be an English major...

cut to Jessie and i giggling together as we sat on the railing of the Venice Pier. don't fret, i'm not attempting to leave out embarrassing anecdotes or important information - i just don't remember much in between fighting with the waitress over how many pitchers she charged us for to frolicking down the pier maniacally. but yes, we some how thought it would be a good idea to jump off the Venice Pier, which Jessie and i successfully did. Ian however, bless his soul, had a bit more difficulty with the task. he made the jump, kicked his feet twice toward the direction of the beach, and then decided he couldn't make the swim back. at the time i was legitimately frightened for his safety. my concern actually caused me to feel the need to jump in yet a second time to save his life, but thankfully Brett did the honors and dragged Ian back to the safety of the shore. one of the onlookers must have called the cops and/or lifeguard because before we knew it there were trucks with sirens on the beach in front of us. luckily they just made sure we were ok, offered us towels, then drove off on their merry way.

looking back at the whole situation in hindsight, i sincerely wish i had taken a pictures of Ian clutching to the pier's pylon because the whole scene was pure magic. both arms and legs hugging the post, the priceless look on his face, the people standing on the pier who had gathered, wathcing everything unfold... i could have made a photo montage to the late 90's Third Eye Blind song, "Jumper" reminiscent to something straight out of a made for tv movie. i love you, Ian, but i wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend.

Monday morning found me with a cheesy grin painted across my face as i recapped the madness that was Sunday night (comma, as in "Oh What A" - copyright Jessie Reder) in my head. all and all, i had a great weekend. i was with my friends, we shared a banana, had some laughs... no one drowned. what more could a girl ask for? well, there is just one thing. in the words of Van Morrison, can i just have one more Moondance with you, my love?

2008-04-14T10:37:00.000-07:00

some much needed clothes-ure

before you read this, please remind yourself that i am as far from racist as one can possibly come, but there are certain things (race not withstanding) that i just can't stand. butter on white rice, umbrellas sans rain, you get the idea. having said that, picture this, if you will: the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the children are laughing, and there are Mexicans were swimming with clothes on. all i can say is why? why, why, why...

Joyce wisely reminded me of the fact that i am the proud owner of Ask A Mexican by Gustavo Arellano, so this morning i grabbed it off my bookshelf and furiously began searching for the answer to my burning question... why do Mexicans swim with clothes on? his answer:

According to a 2003 study by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development, 24 percent of Mexico's population is overweight. That's the second highest obesity rate in the world following - wait for it - los Estados Unitos! Unlike gabachos, Mexicans respect the public when it comes to flashing our flabby chichis, pompis and cerveza guts - so when we're out near the pool or by the beach we cover up. it ain't Catholicism, machismo, or an homage to our swim across the Rio Grande. It's good manner.

not exactly what i was hoping for. in fact, it's almost a cop out. then how does he account for the pleasantly large girl we saw yesterday in the wet wife beater? at one point i had almost convinced myself that she wasn't wearing a bra. she may as well have been topless...

highly unsatisfied, i launched an internet search of my own and have come up with what i believe to be a more tangible answer: long pants can be used as flotation devices.

according to ehow.com, you can literally turn long pants into a personal flotation device. simply take your pants off in the water, and tie a knot in each leg. (tip: zip up the fly if there is one.) while treading water, grab onto the waist band with each hand and throw the pants back over your head. quickly swing the waist band forward into the water, trapping a large air bubble inside. then, firmly close the waist band with your hands and slip a pant leg on either side of your face. the trapped air won’t escape, and you will have something to float with. good to know. thanks, ehow.com!

2008-04-11T11:58:00.000-07:00

only in Beverly Hills

i've been at my new job for just over a month now and i must say that being in Beverly Hills every day is nothing at all how Brenda Walsh and Kelly Taylor made it out to be. i don't get to hang out at the Peach Pit with Dylan and David after school every day. hell, i've never even been to the Peach Pit After Dark.

how ever i have been compiling a list of observations that i feel the need to share with you.

1. you can use a credit card to put time on a parking meter.
2. on any given day, at any given time you can see tween girls walking around in dresses that were clearly meant to be worn to their 8th grade graduation dance, but also served as their "let's go shopping for the day" dress, as well.
3. bike cops cruise on BMW's
4. Santa Monica Boulevard between Crescent and Roxbury is a wind tunnel no matter what the temperature is
5. "pedestrians have the right of way" does not apply, especially if there is a walk signal
6. you can't walk down Rodeo without some idiot from Omaha asking you to take their picture in front of a street sign
7. people actually wait in line at Sprinkles for a fucking cupcake (go down the street to Crumbs, they're better)

so in the words of Rivers Cuomo, the truth is, i don't stand a chance. it's something that you're born into. and i just don't belong.

2008-03-09T08:05:00.001-07:00

worst day of the year

i was lying in bed contemplating whether or not i'd get out of bed to blog about the fact that my internal alarm clock is really starting to piss me off. i open my eyes every morning between 6:30am and 6:45am without aid from an electronic device. most of you are probably wondering why i find this to be a problem seeing that i never hear the daunting tones of an alarm clock... well i'll tell you why. I DON'T NEED TO WAKE UP UNTIL 8:00AM. my new job allows me the flexibility of waltzing through the office door no later than 10:00am, so i don't leave the house until 9:22am. waking up before 7:00am is no longer necessary. when will my body understand?!! hopefully next week... maybe never.

but i digress.

this morning i woke up and looked at my wall clock that read 6:42am. i'm impeccable - even on a Sunday. i stretched, rinsed my face off, and put the coffee on all before i caught sight of a digital clock which housed the real time of (now) 8:03am. daylight savings is the worst. just the feeling of losing an hour kills me. i hate losing at Boggle, how do you think i feel about losing precious time? ugh, i won't get started for your sake.

the dollar sale awaits me... at least something in my life remains constant.

2008-02-18T08:25:00.000-08:00

guess who's back, back, back?

Saturday night marked the end of my alcohol/substance strike as i daringly broke my way back onto the scene with (drumroll please) a beer and a cigarette. yes, after supporting my own period of prohibition i broke the streak with a beer and a cigarette and i don't even smoke. but when push comes to shove it feels nice not to have the social stigma of being "that girl" when every one else is ordering drinks from the cocktail waitress. and now when i receive my half dozen or so text messages that say "can you be our DD tonight?" every Friday i can casually reply, "sorry. gone drinkin'."

2008-02-08T16:57:00.000-08:00

you, me and Old Greg makes three.

last night Dani introduced me the fascination known as "Old Greg", and while i resisted him at first, i now can't stop watching this fucking video. so here. i'm going to make you watch it, too.

and be warned, last night after my first viewing i went as far as having dreams about Old Greg. for some reason me, Dani, Katy Q. and Old Greg were in this parlor style dressing room and i had the most kick ass dress you've ever seen in your life on, but Old Greg was not a fan. he said he hated the dress and made me cry. i need help. or maybe i just need to watch Old Greg a few more times. do you love me? do you think you could ever love me?

in another news, someone took a shit in the parking lot at my work today. no joke. one of the girls in the Call Center comes up to my desk and says, "Ummm... there's poop in the parking lot" to which i replied, "exCUSE me?" sure enough, i went outside and there was a legitimate dookie in between two cars. fucking sick. i need a new job.

2008-01-28T10:57:00.000-08:00

blame it on my lying, cheating heart

i feel dirty and ashamed - but not as ashamed as i should be. i just purchased a Rick DiPietro shirt from nhl.com. ask me how i feel when i wear it under my Kings jersey when they face off against the Islanders on Thursday... yikes.

those who know me best are aware i have the inane ability to fall in and out of love in a matter of minutes, so don't be shocked when i tell you i'm selling a DiPietro shirt on eBay that is in "Worn-Like New" condition, but for the time being the boy is hot. yes, he is the only goalie to be drafted first overall and yes, i know he's worth $67.5MM thanks to the 15 year contract he inked in 2006 and i'd only be lying to myself if i said i wasn't impressed. the deal sealer, how ever, was learning that DP is a bit of a smart ass. he was mic'd up during yesterday's All Star game and not only can he stop a puck, but he can crack a joke just as easily.

so until the flame dies, if anyone has any sort of connections hook a girl up. after all, all's fair in love and war until he says "i do", right?

2008-01-28T10:20:00.000-08:00

sick and phone-less

i spent the entire weekend laying in bed, feeling as if death was knocking on my front door. if that weren't enough in itself, i foolishly left my cell phone on my desk at work under a pile of papers and found myself cut off from the world. sounds awful, right? truth be told, i enjoyed it.

i got more sleep in the last three nights than i have in the last three weeks put together. normally paranoid and anxious without my phone, i felt free and not obligated. so if i neglected to answer your call/text and have not yet informed you that i was sans cell, i was sans cell.

2008-01-25T11:32:00.001-08:00

i can always count on you for a laugh

let's not lie, this past week has been rough to say the least. i've been fighting some sort of sickness (a.k.a. the devil) and it has yet to give up it's awful plot to overtake my insides. my dad's car got broken into while he was out of town. work is no fun. it's raining, cold, and depressing outside. and to top things off i'm refraining from substance abuse so i can't even turn to a bottle for comfort. (though last night Dave and i rationalized that smoking weed is ok.) (whoa, double parenthesis action - i just re-read the statement about turning to a bottle and it just sounds worse than intended. there is no need for an intervention. i am ok.)

luckily, when all is said and done at the end of the day i still have my ridiculous sense of humor and a slew of things that can make me smile just by thinking of them. among the things that can tickle my fancy:

pictures
they say a picture is worth a thousand words - i say a picture is worth a thousand laughs. i love looking at pictures. old pictures, new pictures, digital photos, hard copy prints - i don't care. putting myself back in that exact moment in time helps me remember all i have to be grateful for. my friends, my family, the places i've been, the parties i've had... plus you almost forget about the present even if it's only for a second. i've been print happy lately and have been ordering from QOOP left and right. next stop, Aaron Brothers for their 1 cent frame sale. i'm getting giddy already.

American Gladiators
who doesn't love grown adults that go by obscure names and wear ridiculous costumes battling it out against other grown adults whose main goal is to crash through a giant wall of giant foam blocks? because i do. possibly even better than the show itself is coming up with new Gladiator names and/or events. last night i came up with some of my best ones yet, spitting out names such as "Injection" and "Cracy" (pronounced kray-see, and clearly a Mexican gladiator).

text messaging
i've always been a fan of texting but in recent weeks my appreciation for the text message has been heightened. for example, the other night i asked Jason to text me when he got home because it was mildly late, we had been drinking all day, and i didn't really want him driving in the first place. he did. but i was on the phone with Dani when i got it, so i neglected to read it right away. clearly Jason grew impatient and wanted to make sure i would write him back so he sent a follow up text that simply said "respond". i don't know why that made me laugh so hard, but it did and now if people don't respond to my text messages in what i consider to be a timely manner i use Jason's "respond" tactic.

after going over all that, i guess my week/life isn't really all that bad. and i didn't even touch on the great "bodega" debate... but don't you worry your pretty little head. i will.

2008-01-07T11:26:00.000-08:00

things i've realized since turning 25

this weekend was filled with eye opening revelations. let me indulge you:

i'm much more easily amused now that i'm 25.
i know, you didn't think it could get any easier to conjure a laugh out of me, but it indeed has become much, much easier. you don't have to do anything. i was walking to Cow's End on Saturday morning and realized i had a giant grin on my face for no apparent reason. i began to laugh hysterically due to this fact without any prompting, and Dave and Chels probably thought i was insane/still drunk/high or any combination thereof. they may have been right...

when i was 19, i was a rockstar.
though i will (proudly) say that at no point this weekend was i desperately hurting due to over abusing substances, i was tired as fuck. in fact, i still am. back in the day (sung: when i was young, i'm not a kid anymore but some days i sit and wish i was a kid again - i love that song...) i could drink, smoke, drink, smoke, drink, and God only knows what else with out any physical punishment. after TDS show tonight, i may need a few days of recuperation as a hermit.

i have the greatest fucking friends in the world.
don't be offended, it's not as if i was unaware that you are all supremely fantastic, but this weekend truly highlighted just how much i love/need/appreciate you for what you each respectively bring to the table. this whole weekend was flawless and i thank you for all of the effort you put into stringing it together. from my surprise dinner at Robata Bar, to shaking a tail feather at Nikki's, to breakfast at Jinky's, to being stoned out of my head, to celebrating Lindsay's last night at the Tavy, to thrift store shopping on Fairfax, to American Gladiators... it was too much fun to know what to do with.

what a lucky, lucky girl i am...

2008-01-05T08:04:00.000-08:00

you know you're getting old when your friends write rhymes about your age in your birthday card

morning after night 1 of birthday celebration report:
i'm the only one awake in the house. why am i awake? how am i not hung over? the world may never know...

last night i was pleasantly surprised with dinner and drinks at Robata Bar, followed by more drinks at Chloe (which smelled like a hamster cage that needed a good cleaning, by the way), topped off with what else but more drinks and some good ol' fashioned booty shaking at Nikki's. while i will admit that i was mildly upset the Medieval Times reservation voicemail i had received the night prior was only a prank, i couldn't have had a better time with better people.

i woke up at 6:37am in Dave's room with Chelsea to my direct right, and Dave on the other side of her. i find it odd and sweet that we all like to sleep three to a bed. builds a sense of camaraderie, i suppose...

ready for day 2. over and out.

2007-12-26T11:41:00.000-08:00

don't cry little emo girl, he still won't love you tomorrow!

i want an emo kid friend. and no, my cousin Chad doesn't count even though Lindsay and i have coined the term "amo" (pronounced: aim-o) and proclaimed Chad as the poster child. i'm talking a living, breathing, skinny jean abusing, side swept bang sporting, full blown emo kid. i want heavy black eye liner, a black studded belt, and Something Corporate blaring from the speakers of a shitty old Ford Fairmont with stickers plastered across the bumper. an added bonus if your myspace display name is something along the lines of "invisible to him" or "lost my love-help me find it"...

does this sound like you? do you know anyone who fits this description? if so, will you/they be my friend?

2007-12-21T09:23:00.000-08:00

holy Craigslist, Batman!

below is an actual post i found on Craigslist this morning. while i can understand the need for egg donors, i think it is humorous that the owner of the email address "jewishbaby3@yahoo.com" thinks that his/her organization needs to find Jewish egg donors in order to produce offspring who be raised in the Jewish faith. and i especially love that they consider being an egg donor a part time job...

JEWISH EGG DONORS URGENTLY NEEDED $8,000+

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: jewishbaby3@yahoo.com
Date: 2007-12-21, 8:51AM PST

WE WOULD FEEL INCREDIBLY BLESSED TO HAVE YOUR HELP!

A Jewish Blessing was founded in response to the growing number of requests from infertile Jewish families for help in finding qualified and extraordinary young Jewish women to be their egg donors.

We are currently working with several wonderful couples, with more families reaching out to us every day. So, we are truly in need of your help.
If you are a Jewish woman age 20-32, very responsible, kind and sincere, with a great personality and would consider helping one of these families achieve their dream of becoming parents please email us.... and please pass this forward to friends who might also want to help.

Compensation: $8,000+
This is a part-time job.
This is a contract job.

2007-11-19T14:55:00.000-08:00

ten reasons why my dad is cooler than yours

1. he spawned me. and Jake.
2. he is a short order cook and will make me anything i want for breakfast on any given day.
3. one time i went to Whole Foods and bought bacon wrapped chicken for him. i called and told him i had a surprise, and that it involved bacon. he asked me if it was bacon wrapped cock.
4. he called me a fag via text message.
5. he still thinks Brittney Spears is a virgin.
6. his new favorite thing is to say "whore", but quickly add a "ssss" sound at the end. people probably think that he is crazy, really likes horses, or a combination thereof.
7. even when he says he is "too full" and will "surely die", he'll still eat everything that's left on his plate - and yours.
8. he regularly quotes Disney's The Jungle Book movie.
9. one time he was trying not to use expletive words so he said, "i don't give a F." but just to make 100% certain i knew what he was trying to convey, he added, "or a U-C-K."
10. i said so.

2007-11-07T09:48:00.000-08:00

say it ain't so

i've recently come to the conclusion that i can convince myself that anything is true, no matter how ridiculous it may appear. this is a horrible trait and i must rid myself of this "gift" immediately before i end up in a mental institution. (though some may argue i already belong there...)

for example, on Sunday i went to see Martian Child with Lindsay. as i sat in the theater thinking how cute/ludicrous it was that a child actually believed he was from another planet, my right arm fell asleep. for some reason unbeknown to any logic, my immediate reaction is that i'm having a heart attack. i know, i know - stupid. but i seriously manage to convince myself that i may die right then and there in the movie theater. long after panic had set in, i managed to empower suspension of disbelief and remembered that numbness is a sign of stroke, not heart attack, and clearly i wasn't having a stroke... only an idiot would think i was having a stroke.

my rationale? your guess is as good as mine...

today i'm pretty sure i have a brain aneurysm. go figure.

2007-11-05T16:07:00.000-08:00

for the love of BCBG

picture this, if you will: it's Saturday morning at 4:50am and i am awake. no, i'm not about to go crash in bed after a night of partying. i'm fumbling around my dark, cold room struggling to get dressed because Hanna will be picking me up in ten minutes. yes, i voluntarily woke up at 4:50am. why, dare you ask? as lame as it may sound, i'm a sucker for sales and the prospect of a $35 BCBG dress that originally retailed for $318 filled me with so much glee that i probably would have pulled an all nighter if that was required... anywho, we rushed to Maria's, stopped at the local Yum Yum Doughnuts, and started our quest.

the sale was located in a giant warehouse in the city of Vernon. what? you don't know where Vernon is? yeah, me neither. in order to paint a clear picture for you, allow me to divulge various findings on the way to, in the city of, and an on the way home...

on the drive to Vernon Maria's GPS told us to take surface streets the entire way there. thank Jesus, Mary and Joseph that it was 5:00am and no one was looming in the streets (except for the homeless girl who will now be referred to as a "ghost") because i was scared as it was. we passed a Chinese Food/Doughnuts place - weird. and we almost hit ghost who mildly resembled the girl from The Ring.

once we pseudo-safely arrived in Vernon we parked the car right next to a railroad track. sweet. i wonder if there were any dead hookers shoved under the rails... Maria has previously warned us that there would already be a line of bargain hunters outside the warehouse and we didn't believe her. let it be publicly known that i apologized to Maria, for as we approached our destination address it was clear that some people had actually slept outside the front door to guarantee that they'd be let in with the first round of shoppers. the line consisted of people of all shapes an sizes, women AND men, but mostly poorly dressed Asian girls wearing things such as bejeweled jeans and sweaters featuring cats. weird. (*please note i don't believe these people to be a regular sight in Vernon and guarantee no such sightings. please do not send me hate mail stating that you drove up and down the streets without seeing one cat sweater. yes, it was amazing, and no, i didn't take a picture of it.)

skip us rummaging rack after rack of goodies, weaving the shoe and handbag sections and checking out to us in the car making our way to the freeway. (because now it was clearly light out and the odds of us being shot/stabbed/mugged had gone from 30:1 to 2:1) i saw a chicken. what? you heard me. there was a chicken running in the road. (*this may be a typical sight in Vernon, however again, i make no guarantee.) i also saw two puppies frolicking up a four lane street. doesn't anyone keep animals indoors in this city?

fairytale ending is that i indeed purchased a BCBG dress for $35 that originally retailed for $318. all is well. god bless the city of Vernon.

2007-10-23T18:10:00.000-07:00

ashes to ashes, dust to - FUCK IT'S HOT!

umm... does some one want to explain to me how it's eighty two degrees at 6:15pm in mid-October? no one? oh yeah, because you can't.

thank goodness gracious for M.I.A. and Matt & Kim right now. work blows.

2007-10-05T19:17:00.000-07:00

welcome to my 12-hour detox

i have decided to refrain from engaging in any human contact for the next twelve hours. granted, i will likely sleep through eight of them, but i remain firm in my decision and will feel immense satisfaction once this feat is accomplished. this detox came about for several reasons. allow me to share:

drinking is for losers. or lovers.
i've been spending too much money on alcohol lately. i know, i know. "engaging in any human contact" does not necessarily mean that i have to drink, but knowing myself (and my friends) tonight it really does. and i'm ok with that fact - just not tonight. work has really taken it's toll on me this week, and if i go out i'm 99% sure that i would be blackout drunk by 10:00pm. there is no light at the end of the tunnel right now, so it's a tequila shot chased by a Long Island kind of night. no need for another $112 bar tab. locking myself in my house with veggie pad thai and diet coke will suffice.

people are weird. and lame.
if i actually believed in time travel, i would honestly think that i had managed to jump ahead to October 26th because every one is acting like there's a full moon today. i've received the most random series of business and personal phone calls, text messages and emails in no particular order. as a result, i have become reclusive and defensive. thank goodness gracious that Lindsay works tonight not because i don't want to see her, but really for her own sake. i've self diagnosed myself as a complete bitch, so having some time for myself to cool off will allow me to morph back into my giggling, fabulous self.

i'll do what i want. for sure.
enough said.

to efficiently pass the time i have decided to work on my Holiday Card list for this year. yes, i am fully aware that it is October but that only means that December will be right around the corner. besides, i found the most amazing cards today, so i'm still on a mini greeting card high. snail mail is overlooked and under-rated. you don't realize how nice it is to receive something other than a bill or a coupon for Mystic Tan in the mail until you're actually reading it, so i urge you, friends, to send cards via the USPS as often as possible. i don't expect you to join me in the psycho realm of card giving (unless you so choose to with your own free will), but a two dollar folded cut of recycled paper and a 41 cent stamp can really go a long way. i digress.

see you in the a.m.

2007-09-21T21:57:00.000-07:00

narcolepsy is for lovers

Hanna and i went to dinner tonight and of course we fought over who got to pay the bill. then we went to Starbucks and yet again we fought over who got to pay the bill. i swear if i wasn't just at her wedding i would swear that we were married.

speaking of which, though, why do my friends suddenly feel the need to go off and get married?

i hope she makes it home without falling asleep at the wheel. i hear she's gone narcoleptic on me...

2007-09-04T13:06:00.000-07:00

the roof, the roof, the roof is on FIRE.

last night it was so fucking hot in my apartment that Lindsay and i literally took turns standing in a a pan full of ice cubes in front of the fan in the hallway. oh the humanity...

2007-08-17T14:42:00.000-07:00

conjunction junction, what's your function

as i was browsing the obsolete yet absolutely necessary online community, myspace, i opened up a bulletin posted by a friend who shall for his/her own security remain nameless. i'm not going to lie, i was mildly excited at the prospect of this bulletin because written in the subject line it was disclosed that the post was a survey. well... i'm at work on a Friday afternoon with a pile upon pile cascaded across my desk. in two hours i'll be heading to Vegas - of course i'd fill out a freaking survey right now. duh...

disappointment can't even convey what i felt when i realized it was a "sex" survey. a would-you-do-this-or-would-you-do-that-with-me kind of deal. if i was a thirteen year old inbred slut from Kentucky, i'd probably be re-posting that shit right now. but instead i'm writing to all of you educated folk specifically to inform you that one of the questions read: Would you do foreplay with me?

WHAT?!!

let's fucking think about that one more time - would you DO foreplay with me? um... i don't know. would you do conversation with me? it's bad enough that people feel the need to casually toss "let's do lunch!" in every day normal conversation, but when did that become the norm when referring to sexual acts, too? what is this sick, sad world coming to? i'm distraught.

viva Las Vegas.

2007-08-14T22:49:00.000-07:00

SARS blows.

Katie and i met for dinner at Kaya tonight after i managed to escape the evil clutches of work. we were eating, talking, minding our own merry business when we began to notice that every once in a while some one from across the restaurant (presumably a man who likely idolized Aresnio Hall circa 1996) would release a large, SARS infested cough. how do i know he had SARS? probably because Katie and i now have it. how do i know we contracted SARS? probably because i did the research.

according to Wikipedia, the world's greatest fountain of here say knowledge, symptoms for the disease include fever, myalgia, lethargy, gastrointestinal symptoms, cough, sore throat and other non-specific symptoms. i definitely have been coughing, and those non-specific symptoms are a bitch to endure. i can only imagine what Katie is feeling now, as it seemed to affect her more initially than it affected me.

why can't people carry their own disposable surgical masks like Jennie Cathcart used to back in the FS days? at least we're not in South Africa where one whole person has previously contracted the disease and that one whole person has since left this precious world. that's a death rate of 100% in South Africa... scary.

if you don't see me or hear from me in a couple of days, please send a search party to my house to recover my deceased corpse. and tell my family i loved them.

2007-08-11T11:30:00.000-07:00

Saturdays are for lovers

due to my insatiable desire to never be bored or left out of any situation involving my wonderful friends, i haven't had a Saturday all to myself in a while. until today, that is. my love affair with lazy Saturdays has been reignited. lying in bed all morning has helped me realize that i've only been lying to myself for the past few months - i love doing nothing.

though i technically woke up around 9:00am, i have yet to actually get up other than to get a glass of water from the kitchen, and then again to brush my teeth and wash my face. poor Lindsay left for work about an hour ago, but i guess i had to work all week so i don't feel that guilty that i'm contemplating ordering a pizza or perhaps even El Tarasco to prolong my time spent in my bed. i love my bed.

maybe i'll get up at some point and head to the beach, but then again, maybe i won't... for now i'll continue to listen to Coltrane Motion and pretend that i didn't just watch the Enganged and Underaged episode that featured the union of two 19 year old lesbians. happy Saturday.

2007-08-06T16:19:00.000-07:00

talk about your highs and lows...

picture this if you will:

yesterday morning, about 8:15am i pull into the Noah's Bagels parking lot on Washington. i've just gone to CVS to get sunscreen for Nikki's b-day spa excursion. i find decent parking, get out of the car and start walking toward the entrance when i feel something stuck to the bottom of my left flip flop. assuming i've stepped in gum, i begrudgingly look down only to find one of the most disgusting sights i have ever seen. so disgusting, in fact, that i instantly threw up. no joke, i puked in the middle of the parking lot in front of i don't know how many people, for there stuck to the bottom of my flop was a used tampon. what? you didn't catch that the first time. oh, let me repeat it for you, then. some nasty ass bitch felt that she no longer needed the tampon she had previously inserted so she chucked it in the middle of a fucking parking lot and then it was stuck to my damn shoe. thank God i wasn't hungover or i would have spewed Exorcist style...

2007-07-25T18:45:00.000-07:00

Harry Potter and the YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF

* DISCLAIMER *
please do not continue any further if you have not yet but fully intend to finish Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows.

with a nice big fat check safely deposited in her bank account, J.K. Rowling should have titled the 7th and final edition of the most successful children's book series of all time Harry Potter and the You Can Go Fuck Yourself; because that is basically what she told us, the reader, to do. "go fuck yourself," she said in her merry, British accent. sweet.

as a long time Potter fan, i naturally pre-ordered a copy months in advance and anxiously awaited the book's release. i was more than disappointed when my eyes couldn't stop scanning back and forth over the poorly written prose that haunts seven hundred and some odd pages of recyclable paper. the plot was slightly predictable in places (Harry ultimately ending up with Ginny, and Ron with Hermoine, Harry kills Voldemort, blah, blah, blah), yet completely preposterous in others (belittling Dumbledore's integrity, confirming that James Potter was not a respectable man, making Snape out to be the hero, and so on)

Rowling killed off lovable characters such as Fred (or was it George...), Lupin and Tonks without batting an eyelash. now i'm not saying that they should or shouldn't have been died - it was simply the lack of description and detail regarding their deaths that left me little time to actually understand what happened let alone mourn the loss. she might as well have written, "and then they were dead."

lack of imagination, loss of steam - i don't know what the real root problem was. and maybe i'm being harsh and didn't really have time to let things sink in due to the quick pace in which i finished the book, but for fuck's sake.

or maybe i just hate it when things come to an end. i wasn't a huge fan of how the Sopranos ended either, but i'll take a Journey tune and a fade to black any day over this waste of space on my bookshelf.

2007-07-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

remember me?

holy shit, it's been a while, eh kids? i guess the past few months have been busy, to say the least, but that doesn't mean wacky things haven't been processing through my head for your enjoyment. a recap of recent events:

i moved. yes, it's true - i'm once again a resident of The Deuce. it's actually not that bad. i love my little house, and Lu is a great roommate. we have a red light in the bathroom. i painted my room a toxic shade of yellow so every morning when i wake up i feel all happy and sunshiney inside. well, either happy or sunshiney or i'm pissed that i live in a neon cube. i've yet to wake up hungover in said room, but i'll be sure to let you know how that goes.

and i work too much. there, that's the last six weeks in a nutshell... i moved, and i work too much. what an exciting life i lead.

on a completely different note, do you know any 30 year old virgins? i'm thinking about making a documentary about the life of 30 year old virgins. if you do know one, please pass along my contact info. what? he/she's a Mormon? even better...

2007-05-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

the Ducks are dicks

we all knew that the former "Mighty", now just Ducks of Anaheim were assholes. talented? unquestionably. no one is denying that they have immense talent on the blue line and a deep bench, but bottom line is they are assholes. this was further proved when Detroit's Tomas Holmstrom required 13 stitches on his forehead after his face was lovingly smashed into the glass by both Rob Niedermayer and prodigal son Chris Pronger, who wasn't even penalized. bullshit. this is taking a lot out of me, because those of you who know me well enough know that i in fact am not so fond of the Red Wings, either, but enough is enough.

the only thing missing (which could have potentially caused me actually vomit on the spot) was Bryan Hayward's nagging voice explaining how it was Holmstrom's fault that he was lying flat on his back bleeding...

2007-05-08T16:18:00.000-07:00

I Contracted the Syndrome

The Deadly Syndrome, that is.

When I told my friends I would be trekking out to Anaheim’s own Chain Reaction last Tuesday night, most assumed I was excited to catch Silverlake darlings Monsters Are Waiting. They were partially correct (though no partial credit was given), as I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see the headlining act for a mere ten bucks. But really, I was giddy to see my latest obsession: The Deadly Syndrome.

This quartet of lads may appear your typical skinny-jean fad-loving pack of Indie Rock boys, but thirty seconds into their set it is apparent that their sound is anything but. What some may call pop-ish, others might classify as folky. Whatever you want to call it, The Deadly Syndrome’s catchy guitar hooks mixed with decisive beats and nimble piano lines leave you little chance of standing still when they are on stage. If lovers wear their hearts on their sleeves, singer/bassist Chris Richard bottles the essence of his soul and sells it by the glass when he performs. His haunting falsetto and utter sincerity throughout "I Hope I Become a Ghost" reminded me why I fell in love with music at the tender age of nine.

The venue's staff was clearly incapable of keeping track of time, as the show was already running late when The Deadly Syndrome took the stage. They were forced to cut their set short before having a chance to play crowd favorite "Eucalyptus," which often warrants all four members gathered around the drum kit in an all out free-for-all. Still, broken drumsticks or not, once again these boys proved why they were picked up by L.A.'s Dim Mak Records.

Word on the street is their debut album will be released in the fall, likely followed by a tour which will only help spread the Syndrome. In fact, get ready for an epidemic.

2007-04-29T18:44:00.001-07:00

our flight from the devil's version of heaven

i'm not much of a morning person, which is why i am just as surprised as you are that i was bright eyed and bushy tailed when my alarm went off at 5:00am. but i was. and so was Nikki. one thing was apparent: we were muy excited.

Danielle graciously dropped us off at the Alaska Terminal of LAX because that's what our iterniraries read - Alaska Airlines. but as the rude Alaska employee pointed out after we failed self check-in, "Operated by American Airlines" was written in a non-descript font near the bottom of the paper. WTF?

after a nice hike across LAX, we wish we were actually flying Alaska (which was DEAD) because American is bumpin'. Nikki flirts with one of the TSA guys, we skip the baggage line. we loudly whine while conveniently near another TSA worker that we may miss our flight, we skip to the front of the security line. things are finally looking up, and the memory of running past Hal Fishman and his creepy camera man is almost out of my mind. "let the good times roll," i say to myself.

well, come to find out, the only thing that would be rolling is the old man on the floor that was sitting two rows in front of us. i seriously thought he was having a heart attack, but maybe he shouldn't have tried to go to the bathroom while the plane was making it's initial ascent and the fasten seat belt sign was still on.

we are sitting in the very last row of this god damn airplane and Nikki often has an ass or a crotch (either gender) in her face when the line from the lavatory exceeds more than one person - which is 99% of the time. FYI, i could stick my finger in mouth right now if i really wanted to. that lucky bitch managed to fall back asleep again.

the knock off version of Three Six Mafia is sitting to our right - how many "hard core" gangsters do you know wear a white mesh fedora with Quiksilver shorts? yeah... me neither.

there is a lovely waft of piss scent that comes out of the air ducts every once in a while due to the fact that we're practically sitting in the bathroom.

our seats do not recline. sitting straight up and trying to sleep next to an odd man that keeps turning my reading light on for me much to my displeasure is not an easy task.

the in-flight movie is "Charlotte's Web".

my diet coke tastes likke it has arsenic in it. not that i've ever tasted arsenic before, but something definitely does not taste right and i'm tired and mellodramatic so if i want to say it's arsenic, i will.

(wow, talk about being a brat...)

the entire plane cabin wreaks of old people. if some one were to bottle a scent and label it "geriatric", this is for sure what it would smell like. there must be an entire retirement home on this freaking flight.

my iPod is about to die. are we there yet?

every once in a while the old man sitting in the row directly in front of us (not to be confused with the old man tworows in front of us who ate shit earlier. i still can't quite grasp what actually happened to him.) stands up, i have the distinct pleasure of seeing his ass crack. apparently the low rise jean trend does not have any age/gender barriers. sweet.

the only bright spot is that "Rockin' to Life" by These Guys just came up on random play on my soon to be dead iPod. you're just in time for the fun train? i wish...

one thing is now apparent: i need a drink.

NOTE:this blog entry was originally scribbled on a combination of torn out sudoku book pages and airplane napkins due to the lack of an electronic device with a normal battery capacity but perhaps most importantly to preserve the authenticity and explicit attnetion to detail of the above mentioned events.

2007-04-22T10:59:00.000-07:00

let the bodies hit the floor*

yesterday i was virtually useless. i'm pretty sure i was still mildly stoned, and possesed the energy of a bumble bee that clearly already stung some poor sap and is about to die, so i'm not quite sure what motivated me to get off the couch at 7:15pm in hopes of making it to The Echo with Danielle by eight o'clock. but something did - clearly.

for a good part of our drive, i force Danielle to listen to Movin' 93.9 - it was awesome. i think she loved it. correction. i know she loved it.

after a patch of weird traffic, we arrive at The Echo. or at least we arrive in the vicinity of where The Echo should be. you see, neither of us had ever been there before so we're basically driving up and down Glendale Boulevard looking for any sign of a show - boys in tight jeans, underage kids coughing as they don't inhale their first drag of a Marlboro Light, anything. i tell Danielle to turn down an alley that i hoped would mysteriously lead us in the right direction, but it actually turns out to be an odd, long driveway to a Christian Education Center. we turn the corner into the actual parking lot where we find a small Asian boy with a gun. no, it was not a real gun (at least i told myself it wasn't real), and no, in no way did i make any sort of connection between this little boy and the Virginia Tech shooting. but yes, i was honestly scared. i got hot in the face, the whole nine yards. how would you feel if you saw a kid holding a fake gun in a dimly lit parking lot in Echo Park? that's what i thought...

we manage to escape the clutches of the armed child and realize that we need to enter on Sunset - NOT Glendale (thanks, Patrick) - but the line is already huge. i'm talking over the bridge, around the corner, that's what she said HUGE. so we did the only logical thing that we could do - we cut. and not just a few people. we managed to become like the 15th and 16th people in line. Danielle was flawless. i on the other hand was visibly nervous, but looking back, i'm once again going to blame the child with a gun and maybe some pot-induced paranoia. but seriously, all it took was a little talk about an ice cream truck, how we used to like the Pink Panther things with the gumball eyes, lo and behold some dude is actually eating a Pink Panther thing with the gumball eyes. i don't know how it all worked out so perfectly, but it did. except for the whole waiting thing. that wasn't very perfect, because we stood outside for a good two hours. but let's not talk about that anymore.

once inside, we proceed straight to the bar. Danielle orders us doubles, and we start the night off right: sipping a glass of vodka. The Deadly Syndrome are already playing, we start dancing, and i begin to forget that i could have been shot (with water, a nerf missile - WHATEVER).

but also at this point, i decide the pain in my feet is no longer worth the extra two inches of height which my shoes are conveniently providing, so i take them off. i know what just went through your head: i'm standing in a crowded bar/club/show with weird creepy people and am now barefoot. disgusting. trust me, i wrestled with the idea in my head for a good twenty minutes before throwing in the towel. had i not stood in a line for two hours outside waiting to get in i'm confident i could have withstood the entire evening in those heels. but i did stand in line for two hours, and i was well into my second drink so i felt ok with the idea of being sans shoes.

that is, until i stepped on broken glass. once Klaxons came out, the already creepy crowd grew progressively creepier by starting a faux-mosh pit. the three hundred pound man to my left started throwing his weight around, and the possibly-gay-possibly-straight thruster to my right kept on thrusting. Danielle and i are wide eyed and giggly, spilling our drinks on anyone within a five foot radius when all of a sudden i feel a sharp pain in my right foot. i'm debating if this is an aftershock of my pre-existing foot woes, or if this is brand new. oh, it's brand new. i quickly realize this when i look down and see glass shards on the floor. in the midst of all the moshing-but-not-moshing, some one apparently got excited and threw their beer bottle on the ground. so i tell Danielle "i think i stepped on broken glass" which led to the best line of the night: "are you sure it's not ice?"

wow, this is really taking a lot out of me. a lot more happened than i originally remembered, and sitting here detailing the events to you has opened the flood gates in my head. i wasn't prepared for this. i've probably slept a combined total of 7 hours (if that) the past two nights. this is too much. i quit.

* the title of this post may not seem relevant, so allow me to explain. last night when i was stuck in the middle of the sea of pseudo moshing, that Drowning Pool song "Bodies" popped into my head and has been there ever since. don't ask. i never do.

2007-04-21T12:54:00.000-07:00

420: the aftermath

wow. what a night. what a strange, glorious night.

first, let me start by recognizing that at more than one point last evening i was definitely not ok. like wickedly bugging out not ok. luckily, i managed to stay awake and some how rallied through a self imposed state of dementia. but seriously... so not ok. almost to the point that i feel inclined to apologize to any one that saw me. or not. maybe not that not ok. but almost.

some of my favorite moments (that i can actually remember) in no particular order:

- Miles and i were outside on the front balcony smoking a cigarette. both of us were so beyond stoned that we just stood there in complete silence for what seemed like 25 minutes (in actuality, it was probably two and a half - three tops) before he managed to speak. i don't remember what he said exactly, but i laughed and then ran away giggling "i have to get out of here".

- Chadrock bought pizza. a lot of pizza.

- Katie was telling us how she's going to record an internet game show today where she has to answer true/false trivia and hope that the World's Smartest Chicken doesn't show her up. Nikki and i found this to be hilariously retarded. and then Nikki asks, "what happens if the chicken gets it not wrong?" umm... you mean, what happen if the chicken gets is right? maybe you had to be there. or maybe i conjured the laugh. i don't know. i think i'm still stoned.

- we had kiwi strawberry jello shots.

- Chad the cousin passed out for an undisclosed amount of time on the couch. he also cradled a roll of paper towels as if it were his first born child.

- Dave kept eating the pot candy even though he was already fucked up. at one point, he pulled a melty wrapped candy bar out of his pocket and offered me a bite. i accepted. but it was weird and melty from being in his pocket and after it was already in my mouth i wished i hadn't accepted.

- every one kept telling me that my eyes were small. "Cori, why do you look so Japanese tonight?" or "Cori, why aren't your eyes open?" were some FAQs thrown my way. none of which i had an answer for.

and that's about all i can recall. i know a lot more happened (for heaven's sake, you people didn't leave my house until 4:30am), but as previously stated this is what i can remember.

2007-03-30T10:11:00.000-07:00

scheming is believing

let me preface this entry by stating for the record that i love my new job. i really do. i feel so fortunate to have found a position with a company that put it's employees first - a difference that is night and day compared to my last gig. don't get me wrong, rolling in the Sequoia was nice and all, but the dozen or so daily tirades weren't exactly worth the migraines and my no longer recreational vicodin addiction.

BUT (you all knew it was coming...) the one thing i can't stand is the fact that they have communal music blaring all day long. and i know what you're thinking - if the only thing i have to complain about is the music then i should shut the hell up, especially because i am a lover of (just about) all music. i'm talking Hot 92.3 Jams type shit ALL FUCKING DAY LONG, though. and if it's not Joe's "I Wanna Know"-esque type songs, KBIG 104/Kelly Clarkson and Beyonce ballads for eight consecutive hours. much to my displeasure/delight, i now know every word to "Irreplaceable". the first week was... ok. second week, eh, started nervously tapping my nails on the desk. and now... now i want to gouge my eyes out with a paper clip. i live/eat/breathe/sleep/sing these wretched songs day and night. the soundtrack to my dreams has shifted from Ben Gibbard singing sweet nothings while i frolick in a field of sunflowers to Ginuine screaming "ride it, my pony" as the masked killer from the Scream movies chases me into a Radio Shack.

i've spent the past four hours trying to come up with a way i could inconspicuously climb to the rafters of the building and disconnect the speaker system. i've pictured myself in an all camo outfit shimmying from beam to beam, snipping wires with the scissors that are conveniently located in my top desk drawer left and right. i then thought i should try and utilize my former Girl Scout archery training (yes, i was a Girl Scout) and shoot out each speaker individually from the comfort of my own desk. only problem is, i don't have a bow and arrow set, nor know where to get one that isn't plastic. and now that i think about it, i'm pretty sure i failed the archery patch...

shit. [sung] to the left, to the left. everything you own in a box to the left.

2007-03-22T14:22:00.000-07:00

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

ok, this is probably the most useless information i've ever written in my blog, but i have to share it with you because i need a shoulder to cry on. and if i actually picked up the phone and called (you know, you. the one reading this shit.), you would undoubtedly laugh in my face. i'd rather you laugh behind my back (assuming i'm not sitting next to you when you read this.)

all day at work, i've randomly been playing games of Free Cell. i don't know if any of you are Free Cell geeks like i am, but if you click "File" then "Statistics", it will (obviously) show you your current win/loss stats. i was on a twelve game winning streak. T-W-E-L-V-E. that might not seem like a lot, but i dare you to shout "victory is mine!" twelve wins. consecutive wins, damn it.

i just lost. i hate you, thirteen. i hate you. unless of course thirteen is referring to Michael Cammalleri in which case i love you, thirteen. love, love, love you.

is it 6:00pm yet?

side note: i'm really into parenthesis today. who knew?

2007-03-21T09:15:00.000-07:00

shameless plug

for those of you who are in the know or simply in the dark, i'm currently completing an internship with advice guru E. Jean Carroll. part of my first task is to help promote her new site, so without further ado...

ADVICE VIXENS!
check it before you wreck it.

and while you're at it, add the newly formed AV myspace to your ever growing list of myspace friends. AV on MYSPACE!

(and no, i'm not the one monitoring the myspace site so please don't post stupid comments specifically about me b/c it will actually in fact post directly to AV site)

ciao, bella.

2007-03-19T11:13:00.000-07:00

i'm goin' down to South Park gonna have myself a time

i swear on the un-holy bible that the cabbie we hitched a ride with on Friday night believed that he was Eric Cartman from South Park.

at first, i thought it was a funny joke and that he'd drop the Cartman voice and weird South Park references; but after he called Nikki a redneck, and Katie a hippie and wished that he had some cheesy poofs for the ump-teenth time i about peed in my pants (skirt) due to uncontrollable laughter.

did i mention he drove like a maniac and there were multiple times i was sure the van was going to flip over?

luckily we got his card.

2007-02-28T08:14:00.000-08:00

it's a sad, sick time

Kings fans, take a moment, let's bow our heads and mourn a great loss.

rarely do i write anything but cute anecdotes of drunken/high/silly times because let's face it - i give the people what they want. but for the sake of my father, my brother, myself and any other true blue we'll stand by you even when you're second to last in the entire NHL Kings fans, i feel this post is justified. not a sports fan? you can stop reading. i won't take it personally. not a hockey fan? definitely may want to stop reading.

you're still here? you like me. you really like me.

my heart has once again been ripped out of my chest and stomped upon by the Los Angeles Kings organization. it was announced yesterday that the Kings captain Mattias Norstrom was traded to Dallas for none other than Jaroslav Modry. Modry, who four short years ago the Kings said "fell short of expectations", which resulted in his own trade to Dallas. Modry, who was booed out off of his home ice by disgruntled Los Angeles fans (though i personally never had any real problem with him and firmly believe that you never, under any circumstances, boo your own team). Modry for Norstrom?

and don't get all technical with me and say that we also got two draft picks and Johan Fransson because really who the fuck is Johan Fransson? maybe he'll come here and do great things, but the bottom line is he will never fill the skates worn by El Capitan. never.

you couldn't get me a Chara or a Phaneuf? the loss of Matty would still sting, but at least i'd feel a little better. MODRY? i will never understand. at least Matty will have a chance with Dallas to do something, because unlike our depleting, disheveled bunch, Dave Tippett's team has the potential to go somewhere. i may become a Dallas fan...

so Dean Lombardi, you build your dream team of "youngsters" who will be future stars. after all, isn't that what the Kings have been doing all along? look what a super star Jamie Storr is... oh wait, he is now in the German Elite League. and Jared Aulin... don't get me wrong, he was a good looking kid, but what benefit was he after we got rid of Blake for him? if we're all about the young talent then where is Gleason? Corvo? Belanger? Avery? gone, gone, gone and gone.

for the first time in my life, i uttered the unspeakable. last night i told my dad "i hate the Kings". and i meant it...

2007-02-24T12:05:00.000-08:00

linked by a semi-common thread

last Friday, Danielle and i dropped Nikki off at the airport and then proceeded directly to Penguin's for a delicious frozen treat. on the ride there, her scar from the outdoor heater incident* began to hurt. granted, i was a little stoned but i started laughing uncontrollably and told her she was the new Harry Potter and evil was near**. though i'm not even sure Dani is even a HP fan, she, too, began to laugh. and we giggled all the way through our frozen yogurt looking over our shoulders every once in a while to make sure an evil wizard wasn't watching us devour our dessert.

well, last night Katie wanted frozen yogurt, and naturally i couldn't say no. i, once again, had just smoked, and was patiently sitting at our dining table waiting for KDD to pick me up when i hear a noise. "Nikki, did you hear that?" of course she didn't. i hear it again. "hello," i frantically scream. "is some one here?" Nikki is now laughing at me. what can i say? i've become a paranoid stoner in my old age. Katie calls - she's out front - so i grab my purse and turn the corner to head down when i realize that THE FUCKING FRONT DOOR IS OPEN. no one came in or out of our house, but the god damn door is wide open. i become mildly hysterical. Nix tries to assure me that the serial killer, who isn't really there, won't kill me on my way to Katie's car because he does not, in fact, exist. i'm not so convinced. feeling that i will scare off any attacker, i scream "i'll cut you" over and over while running down the stairs until i jump into Katie's car.

looking back on both incidents, i've realized a few things...

1.) we need to find some thing more exciting to do on Friday nights.
2.) i have an incurable, embedded fear in my brain that evil is constantly lurking.
3.) we love frozen yogurt.

FOOTNOTES
* a few months ago, Danielle was walking our old roommate's dog and tied her to the giant outdoor heater that is in front of our building. she began to walk away, the dog thought she was going with and began to follow. long story short, D turned around with just enough time to see the top of the heater come crashing down on her face. ER visit, all that good stuff, but now a faint scar is all we have to remember the incident by.
** Harry Potter has a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt which causes him excruciating pain whenever Lord Voldemort is near.

2007-01-27T17:29:00.000-08:00

cell phones are the devil

i've come to the conclusion that i should no longer be allowed to enter The Whaler if i have my cell phone. neither should Nikki. the past few weeks we have been the drunk dialing/texting queens. not that we haven't had fun, and not that we've really done/said anything that terrible, but we've spent one too many mornings wondering "did i really say that?" and "i wonder if i actually spoke with (insert name here), or if i just left an obnoxiously drunk message..." it's gotten to the point where i thank baby Jesus that i have an unlimited text messaging plan.

last night Son came over and played a message he saved from last week after our Sharkeez fiasco, and i honestly thought i was going to die because i was laughing so hard that i couldn't breathe. the best part about it was earlier this week he told Nikki that she left the funniest message, and she was absolutely convinced that i was the one who called. but sure enough, it was her beautiful voice on Ricky's VM busting out Human League's "Don't You Want Me Baby", then transitioning into one of my own new personal favorites, "Jason Ricablanca Lives by the Sea" (sung to the tune of "Puff the Magic Dragon"). i only wish that she was home to hear it.

and then it's moments like that which lead me to believe that we should, in fact, keep on keepin' on. who would entertain the masses? who would bring smiles (possibly perplexed frowns) to our friends faces without a "get your ass to The Whaler or we'll hate you" call from us? how would you know that we were belligerently wasted if you didn't have record of a text message that we sent you? i may have just changed my own mind in the process of writing this entry. yup. i did. i'm pretty persuasive like that.

i say yes to drunk dialing. bring on the drunk texting. i for one don't want to live in a world with out "Jason Ricablanca Lives by the Sea". do you? i hope not...

2007-01-25T12:13:00.000-08:00

a celebration fit for a queen. well, a karaoke queen, at least...

this past weekend was full of more karaoke than i care to remember. scratch that. this past weekend was full of more karaoke than i can remember, likely due to my belligerent nature at the end Sunday evening. yes, i am well aware that it was Katie's birthday and that i was more drunk than she - but for those of you who weren't there/don't remember Friday night due to your own belligerent nature, allow me to indulge you...

Friday we arrive at Brass Monkey Caffe, much to the delight of Miss D.Driscoll. a table right next to the mic has a nice "Reserved" sign for and we knew it would be a night of singing and all around madness. for sure it was the latter because of these reasons (and more):

1.) crowded does not even begin to convey how many people were shoved into that bar. thank the good lord we had the smarts to call ahead and reserve a table.
2.) a very large, frightening man (who definitely was Abumchuck's cousin - ugly cousin at that) would not leave Katie alone, and i'm pretty sure he slipped her a ketamine. he was terribly rude to the rest of us. for your viewing pleasure:
i could have taken him though...
3.) the birthday girl became very drunk VERY quickly (hence the above ketmine reference). so quickly in fact she puked her life away in one of the tiny stalls at Brass Monkey, and in a Nordstrom box that was in my car on the way home. just when i thought i had seen it all, she still had more to unload when we got back to the house. thank god i heart taking care of drunk people... and that i was sober.
4.) in the midst of the puking display and my feeble attempts to get every one out of the bar to head home, Dan decided he wasn't ready to go home. i made him look me in the eyes and swear it was ok to leave him there. he did. so i did. his new "friend" took him home the next morning. we know, Dan. we know. "nothing happened."
5.) Ricky introduced me to Moving 93.9, which many of your probably already knew about but i don't really listen to the radio. C&C Music Factory is the shit.

poor KBOMBS was not feeling so hot, to say the least, on Saturday. so we had a pretty mellow day in preparation for Sunday Funday.

and what a fun day it was (even though she claimed that she was still hung over from Friday). around 3:00pm we ventured down to my old stomping grounds for Katie's first Sharkeez experience. it was a game day, and a Sunday no less, so we knew that getting a table would be more than difficult. ironically two of the first people we saw when we walked in the door were Windi and Ursula. they had their claims already staked on a few bar stools and eventually Nikki and i worked our way in there as well, but it just wasn't flying. the birthday girl, Dave (Human) and Dani were still seatless and i know we're good - but "stealing" three more stools from people who clearly had been sitting there pounding screwdrivers since 11:00am? bottom line: we needed a table.

luckily (or not so luckily, depending on how you look at it) poor Windi and Ursula were being harassed by a nice fellow who affectionately refers to himself as "Biscuit".

Biscuit, anyone? no?

now what are the chances that i actually knew Biscuit? slim to none, but what do you know - Biscuit is friends with Jake G, who is friends with Jake Bierner, who you guessed it is one of my friends. Biscuit is now overflowing with joy and insists that we come sit at his table with him. and a few strategic scoots later, Biscuit's table becomes our table. sweet victory.

Biscuit took a liking to our Katie Lu, as you can see from the photo above, but even more funny was that Biscuit's friend took a liking to our Dave. i feel it important to mention that Biscuit's friend happended to be male. bought Dave a shot, kept giving him eyes... it was weird. i don't think Dave gave him a fair chance, though.

a few Fishbowls and a few pitchers left us feeling pretty good (except for Danielle who was lying in the car and Katie who still wasn't drinking much. lame.) so i guess what i'm saying is that Nikki, Dave and i were all feeling pretty darn good. long story short, Chicago won, Indianapolis won and i was about ready to throw up (due to football, not my drinking habit - yet), so we took off.

what did we do when we got home, you ask? we drank of course! for some reason i thought it would be a good idea to drink more and even smoke a little. 8:00pm rolled around and we were ready to go out again. destination: karaoke Sunday at the Whaler.

our crew had significantly grown by this point. PA had randomly stumbled to the house (after i randomly bumped into him at Sharkeez) with Rawley, Dan & Nolan were done celebrating the Chicago victory, and even Matty made the six block trek to celebrate a bit more. Katie started drinking, i kept drinking, and the night becomes fuzzy after that. allegedly, i was so retarded before we left that i couldn't even sing anymore - i just talked through entire songs. and not even reading the lyrics, i actually was just rambling nonsense and screaming "happy birthday, Katie!" into the microphone. but even still, we all had too much fun.

(note: i apologize for my extreme tardiness in the finishing and posting of this entry. sue me.)

2007-01-16T17:54:00.000-08:00

near death experience

if it wasn't bad enough that i was trying to recover from Martha Luther King Day festivities, i'm pretty sure i almost died today.

some how 2:00pm rolled around and i realize that i haven't eaten anything yet. one fell swoop, hunger hit me like a freight train. nothing in the house seemed to satiate my famine, so i set out on a mission. the destination of my mission was unclear, but one thing was crystal - i need to eat.

i'm cruising down Washington. i pass Frankie and Johnny's and am inevitably heading to In-N-Out for a grilled cheese when dizziness erupts in my head like a beer that's been left in the freezer too long. instead of hunger pains shooting through my body, i now feel nauseous and, well, terrible to put it plainly. for sure i'm not even going to make it the extra 5 or 6 blocks to In-N-Out. i make a very illegal, erratic U-turn and speed toward home. "do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars," i say to myself. "for the love of whatever God i don't believe in, please let me make it home."

i pull onto Fleet Street, park like an asshole and run straight to my bed. lying down doesn't seem to help. i still feel like i'm going to vomit and the dizziness i experienced earlier has progressed to horrible shooting pains throughout my head. the silence that is my room isn't helping much, either, so i turn on my tv hoping a little background noise will calm my senses. no such luck. instead, an awful soap opera is on and all any of the characters on the show seem to do is scream; be it a high pitched i'm on a roller coaster having the time of my life scream, or the i know you're cheating on me come out of your lover's closet so i can slap you across the face kind of scream, they were screaming like there was no tomorrow. and at that moment in time, i really felt like there was no tomorrow.

lucky for me, i see Nikki walking down the hall so i scream (politely) for her to get me Advil. at this point Danielle has heard all of the commotion and she and Dave the dog are now in my room (bed for that matter) assessing my condition. Nikki, being the darling that she is, not only gets me Advil but makes me a sandwich. Danielle swears i have a fever and i am now wondering why i've never made a will because my head is about to fall off. i eat my sandwich, but still feel like i was thrown around in a hurricane.

an undisclosed amount of time later, i some how for who knows what reason end up at Starbucks. i order my usual and with one sip am almost instantly rejuvenated. that's right folks, i was going through caffeine withdrawals. i (inadvertently) tried to quit coffee today. really, i was just super busy with work and never made it out the door to Starbucks (or even to the kitchen to make coffee or put any sort of victuals in my body.)

so the morals of the story are, i can (a) never quit coffee and (b) never start doing heroin.

2007-01-02T11:56:00.000-08:00

¡prospero ano nuevo!

two thousand seven: so far, so good - which obviously isn't saying much seeing that it's only the second day, but FSC kicked it off with a bang so let's hope the good times keep rolling. (my birthday is in two days. clearly the good times will continue to roll...)

for those of you who were in a paper bag, i spent NYE in Punta Banda with 20+/- of my closest and not-so-closest-but-we-partied-just-like-we-were-closest friends. Danielle, Nikki, Chad, Dave the dog and i headed down to Mexico on Saturday with Katie & Co. close in tow. upon arrival it was apparent that our rental looked like a mental institution and/or that an old lady had died in the house, and possibly still remained in one of the many creepy closets. i thought a shower would calm my senses, but i was foolishly mistaken. clearly the joke was on me, because there was no hot water. none. so i was standing in a cold, Mexican shower with my flip flops on because no amount of money would ever convince me that it was ok to be standing there barefoot, crying. it was sad. i was scared.

thank the good lord that we had some friends in another house not too far away, so we piled back in the cars and headed over to drink our sorrows away. seeing them was definitely a morale booster, as we had spent our last Mexican rendezvous for Danielle's birthday with some of them. my first and last tequila shot went down smoothly and i was finally at ease. (don't worry, i said first and last tequila shot. obviously a copious amount of shots were thrown back after that point, but give me credit - i learned a little something from La Fonda. ixnay the equilatay.)

night one drew to a close, so Danielle and i proceeded back to our shack for some unforeseen reason and slept in the death bed. we then reeked of death and campfire. it was awful - or awesome, depending on how you look at it. so long story short about the haunted house: we had a sober moment of clarity and vowed never to go back. the other house(s) were spacious enough to accommodate us all, and thankfully people were nice enough to share beds. those Hollyweird kids saved our lives.

but i digress... back to the mayhem.

Chad brought enough weed for the Sovereign Military Order Of Malta's army, but unfortunately they couldn't make it down so that left us to burn through it. my Sunday started with four people passing three joints around the fire pit leaving me pretty freaking stoned. so i did the only thing i could do - drank beer. the rest of the day was filled with more drinking, more smoking and for sure frolicking on the beach. Eric introduced us to the fabulous game of Viking Kubb, which we now don't know how we lived with out. (FYI: in search of purchasing our own Kubb set on the world wide web, i stumbled across the fact that the annual World Championship is held on Gotland. those interested in trying out for the team inquire within.) drinking dreidel , Sudoku challenge, and losing at poker were also some of the reasons why i was pretty drunk and had to nap before midnight rolled around.

champagne flowed freely when the clock struck twelve and madness ensued. i honestly haven't laughed as hard as i did that night in a long time, which is saying a lot because i'll pretty much laugh at anything. we had a great group of people and i'd like to think that we all had the best time.

Mexican highlights (in no particular order):

- Mike slept wearing a sleep mask. it said something on it, which at the moment i can't remember for the life of me. to make myself giggle, i'll say it said "take me to sleepy town".
- Reed showed off his sick dance moves. Reed's mom had some sick moves of her own...
- the PIMP cup.
- Cody Cody Slutz tried to talk Elek "off the ledge" when in fact he was unquestionably the deciding factor that pushed him back over.
- Nikki and Nick made out - even if it was "in jest"(so they said...) - in front of everyone.
- the little girl who was vacationing next door was doing snow angels in the sand - face down.
- we partied with Benicio del Toro. (not really, but you would have thought he was Benicio del Toro, too, if you were drunk/stoned/in the dark.)
- Nick threw up. Mike took pictures of Nick throwing up. Eric stood in the shower watching while Mike took pictures of Nick throwing up.
- Elek some how became "Papa Elek", and Danielle and i found much glee running around saying "Papa Elek! Papa Elek!" in an Irish/Scottish accent.
- Godfrey flew a borderline gay kite.
- Eric thought he was going to be murdered.

resolutions i've made because of this trip to Mexico:

1.) i need to "Jump Around" more.
not only was it just good old fashioned fun, but for some reason Danielle and i were sore the next morning. jumping was the only physical exertion from either of us the entire trip (unless walking from one end of the Kubb court to the other counts. yeah, didn't think so...), so in short, we clearly don't jump enough.
2.) i'd like to find a giant fake marlin to hang above our fireplace.
i may even possibly sponge paint the wall an awful orange color just like Nana did. (possibly is the key word.)
3.) i hope to take many more trips to Mexico.
or just take more trips with friends. best case scenario: more trips to Mexico with friends.
4.) i'm going to try and get as many people as humanly possible to start using "Mexican" as an adjective.
it's really quite effective. for example, Danielle cut her foot and it was bleeding a little. if she would have simply said "i have a cut" i would have felt bad, but not that bad. but the fact that she said "i have a Mexican cut" really got my attention. also see my multiple uses of Mexican as an adjective above. it works. you will like it - maybe even love it.

in closing, thanks to (Papa) Elek, Cody and crew for feeding us and giving us a place to stay. and i'd also like to give a very special thanks to Nick because every now and then i catch myself busting out a "in the morning when i rise" - and it's golden.

2006-12-07T10:26:00.000-08:00

the legend of Silver Surfer

now this story may not mean much to you if you don't have the right sense of humor, so all of you who don't like to laugh at just about anything bear with me for a moment or ignore the rest of this story.

back in the day there was a new kid in town at Gulf Breeze High School. he had bleached blond hair, and the first day at school he showed up in a silver jacket. the second day he showed up... in the same silver jacket. in fact, from what i've been told, he wore that freaking silver jacket every freaking day and therefore became known as the Silver Surfer. ironically, he didn't even surf. it was his California-esque poorly dyed locks that coined the later half of his name.

Silver Surfer has travelled all the way from Florida to our very own Venice Beach California. how do i know this, dare you ask? well, believe it or not, he lives about 5 blocks away from me next door to Katie and went to high school with Nikki. small world...

my favorite part about Silver Surfer is that when ever any of Nikki's friends from Florida are in town she'll ask them, "hey do you remember (insert real name here not to be disclosed for protection purposes)?" and no matter who it is - guy, girl, gay, straight, drunk, stoned - the response is always unanimous. "you mean Silver Surfer?" it kills me.

what's also great is that poor Silver Surfer has been "outed" in every aspect of his post-high school career. one time our friend Jerry was visiting Silver Surfer's frat and one of his fraternity brothers asks Jerry, "hey, do you know (insert nickname Silver Surfer gave himself so that no one would ever feel the need to call him Silver Surfer again)?" stumped, Jerry sadly admitted he had no idea who the kid was talking about. but the kid was 99.9% sure that Jerry knew who he was talking about. "you know," the kid urged. "(insert real name here again not to be disclosed for protection purposes)" at this point Jerry is dying. "you mean SILVER SURFER?!!" Jerry proceeds to explain to Silver Surfer's frat brother how in high school every one called him Silver Surfer because he wore the same silver jacket every day and had the awful bleached surfer-esque hair. from that point forward, Silver Surfer's frat brothers called him by his rightful name: Silver Surfer.

a few months ago we were at The Whaler and we ran into one of Silver Surfer's current roommates. Nikki is a little lit and proceeds to inform him of the origin of the name Silver Surfer. just doing her job, kids. don't feel bad for poor Silver Surfer. it's partly his fault for trying to deny his heritage. embrace who you are no matter what. that's the one thing i've learned about my life because of Silver Surfer.

Thank you. Thank you, Silver Surfer for showing me the way.

2006-12-02T11:04:00.000-08:00

my own worst enemy

it's the simple things in life that keep me going on a day to day basis. iced lattes, The Office, myspace, and LL Cool J (not really) to name a few. among my favorites has always been the bubble bath, not only because i find the word "bubble" completely intriguing in itself, but who doesn't like a little r&r in a hot, sudsy tub of water?

today my bath unexpectedly took a turn for the worse as it dawned on me that i was sitting in a pool of my own dirt (among other things i can only presume). but it's not like i've never taken a bath before. these things should have crossed my mind years ago. so why the sudden insight? no se. maybe it was because i was reading Sedaris, and Sedaris always puts me in a (wonderfully) cynical mood. maybe i've been protecting myself; subconsciously i knew that if i ever even began to think of all the unsanitary things that a bubble bath actually is my frothy times would immediately cease. if that is the case, my subconscious was right.

though i can't tell you why these thoughts began entering my mind i can tell you they hit me like a ton of bricks. i began to panic. i'm no germaphobe, but i definitely have hygienic instincts. i can deal with clutter (hence the current state of my room) but not dirty dishes in the sink. visions of me drowning in my own polluted bathwater began flooding my head. the tiled bathrooms walls were closing in on me. only one thing was clear: there was no way out.

until i sat up.

let's take a step back. soaking in your own dead skin cells is unquestionably disgusting, but look on the bright side - at least they're your dead skin cells (unless you're sharing your bath time, but that's your conscious choice). who knows how many people's hangnails were floating around in the last swimming pool you jumped into? or how many people's pee you've splashed at your friends in the ocean? don't even get me started... i began weighing the pros and cons and the beginning stages of a panic attack quickly dissipated. i had riled myself up for no reason.

in conclusion, i've determined that the bubble bath is still on my simple pleasures list. so long as you take them at face value, it should still be on yours, too. once you can accept the fact that you are not in the tub to become clean, but simply for relaxation purposes your mind will once again be at ease.

c'est la bubbles.

2006-11-29T12:30:00.000-08:00

O' Christmas Tree.

for those of you who don't know and pretend like you don't care, i HEART Christmas. Halloween? eh, could do without. Thanksgiving? stuffing is great and all, but you can only eat so much before you feel like you could possibly die. but Christmas? Christmas is the shit. not only is it our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ's birthday (i'm totally going to hell for saying that, and saying it in a facetious tone in my head probably didn't help the cause...), but it means

WAIT. while it is still fresh in my mind, i feel that i have to say that sitting with Nikki and Drew is probably one of my top 10 all time favorite things to do. we don't even have to be doing anything specific, just listening to the conversation alone is good enough for me. they are simply recockulous - and i love them. today just went something like this:

N: why don't you just come out of the closet and admit that you're gay?
D: i'm not gay, you're gay.
N: no, you're gay. remember? you told me that one time.
D: well... you're gayer.

anyway, what i was trying to say before i became sidetracked was that Christmas means Christmas trees. the Sunday after Thanksgiving Nikki and i set out to find the perfect tree. and don't worry, kids. we found it - at Target, the greatest store on earth. but they were a bit understaffed in the Garden Center at Target this past Sunday because we couldn't find anyone to help us actually move the tree. so what did we do? we picked it up and put it in our shopping cart. yes, we put a 7 foot tree in our shopping cart. it was amazing, but not even the best part of the whole excursion. the best part was that the kid who worked at Target (who i'm pretty sure i went to high school with, but i could be wrong) wasn't allowed to tie the tree to our car for liability reasons. so he basically gave us a piece of string and bid us good luck and farewell. let's just say going 20mph from MB to MDR because we were scared shitless that a giant tree would cause a giant accident was not fun. but alas, the tree made it home safe and sound and i love it. you will love it too once you see it. just wait. i dare you not to love it.

yeah, this post definitely lost it's steam. i had better things to say, i don't know what happened. so i guess i'll just end on this note: Drew offered to write me a personal check for my last mini can of Diet Coke. i guess he really is gay.

2006-11-28T23:55:00.000-08:00

karma isn't always a bitch. sometimes it's just plain funny.

Nikki, Dave and i were walking to the car tonight in the freezing cold and Nikki says, "i wish i had my ear muffins." i almost died. i laughed so hard that i was no longer cold and yes, i may have made fun of her just a little (or a lot).

we get to the car and i go to step in, but i fall out. yes, i fell out of the car on the way in. don't ask how because i'm not really sure how it worked. one second i was standing, stepping into a vehicle and the next i was on the ground. but then she got to relentlessly laugh at me, so i guess we're even.

2006-11-20T12:05:00.000-08:00

karaoke (n): A painful form of 'entertainment' only to be attempted when very, very, very drunk.

we've made it a habit to go sing karaoke at the Whaler on Sunday nights. it's a guaranteed good time. the same people are always there, and the same people are always ridiculously drunk. last night was an especially "colorful", for lack of better term, evening.

i will now dissect various Whaler patron's singing styles and/or overall vibes for your reading (and hopefully viewing) pleasure.

let's start with Gina. Gina actually has a decent voice but sometimes puts on the vibrato a bit too strong and starts to resemble a cracked out opera singer. her head constantly wobbles, which often leads me to wonder if she's the adult version of that one story where the girl has to wear a velvet ribbon around her neck otherwise her head falls off (don't roll your eyes like i'm crazy - i've emailed Katy to confirm the name of said story. i know she knows it...). it's like she's a bobble head doll, and some one is constantly flicking her head. actually, it's quite remarkable now that i think about it. i give Gina mad props. i think i'd have a headache in 30 seconds if i voluntarily moved my head that much...

Kirk on the other hand has a very stationary head, and prefers the eyes closed hand over one ear method. i couldn't tell if he was actually plugging his ear, so as to hear himself better, or if the hand was simply cupping the ear so as to give the illusion that he was trying to hear himself better. though between you, me and the wall, when you're in a crowded bar singing cheesy Sting songs and every one else is singing along with you do you really need to hear yourself all that better? can you really hear yourself all that better? i guess only Kirk knows...

then there's Rico. Rico is probably one of my all time favorites because he will sing any song regardless of how long or terrible it is. he also loves to sing along to EVERY song. if he's not singing with you during your song, you can almost bet that he's dancing. Rico has some sweet dance moves. i love it when Rico dances.

moving on to Sumiko. Sumiko is an older Japanese woman who looks incredibly good for her age. at the beginning of the night, she seems relatively normal. she sits at the bar, drinks her drinks, and sings her songs as they come up. but as the night progresses she becomes more and more ridiculous and her crazy switch somehow gets turned to the "On" position. last night she wildly motioned across the bar for me to come over and talk to her. so i did. she tells me i have an incredible voice and that i've inspired her to learn new songs. in fact, she'd like to learn the song i had sung earlier in the night, but she's afraid that she's too old to know what song it was. well kids, it was Wilson Phillips' "Hold On" (sung only at the request of Katie Driscoll) which according to my calculations came out circa 1990. that's 16 years ago. not exactly a new sensation... moral of the story is she kissed me on the cheek after i told her i had complete faith that she could not only learn, but master "Hold On".

there are oodles more, but now that i've begun i realize i could go on for days. don't worry, i won't go on for days. there is just one more story that i have to share, though.

it's the end of the night, Nikki has already gone home and Katie and i have said most of our goodbyes and head for the door. Katie gets trapped along the way and i get to the door only to realize that she's not behind me. i scream her name. nothing. i scream it again. still nothing. Will, our favorite bouncer in the entire world laughs at me. i walk back into the bar, see her, call her name and give her a pissy look - though the pissy look is completely in jest. but this creepy old man with a fro and clear sunglasses walks over to me and says "honey, all that matters is that she goes home with you at the end of the night. there will always be people trying to get her attention, but remember that she's going home with you." i mutter thanks, and am now confused. Katie finally comes and i tell her what he says at which point she busts out laughing. apparently that old creepy man thought we were dating, as earlier in the evening he told her that we make a lovely couple. last week i was Dave's girlfriend, this week i was Katie's. who's next? grab a number, get in line.

if this didn't make you want to join us on Sundays for good some ol' fashioned fun, there's only one other thing i can think of that would sell you. Dave doing Usher's "Nice and Slow". and if that didn't get you, then you're hopeless. hopeless i tell you.

2006-11-17T14:09:00.000-08:00

sweet dreams are made of these

i'd like to take this opportunity to let every one know that i think i've finally found a way to harness my psychic abilities. contradictory statement, i know. if i were actually psychic i wouldn't think, i would know... what ever.

in the past week, i've had dreams (or premonitions, will you) that have been eerily similar to future real life occurrences. for instance, the other night i had a dream that our former roommate Jordan B Nice came over and tried to hug me, Nikki and Danielle. the next day, i went to the mailbox only to find our old house key and a handwritten note from Mr. Nice inside.

i then had another dream in which Nikki took a small container of diced onions out of the fridge and asked me why i hadn't eaten my onions yet, to which i told her they weren't mine - they were Dave's. this morning Dave was in the kitchen making breakfast and he couldn't find onions. Nikki had to dig through the fridge and then pulled a container of pre-diced onions out JUST like she did in my dream.

not impressed yet? fine. i'm not psychic. i've had a weird week full of coincidences.

but while we're on the subject of dreams, let's talk about Nikki's dream from the other night...

so she's lost in the airport - doesn't know what gate her flight is leaving from and is rushing to try and find out when she drops her phone. it breaks into (fixable) pieces, and she gathers all of them up with the exception of the battery, which fell just out of her reach. as she's heading over to get it, one of those little carts that they always drive around in runs over the battery so she's just lost the use of her cell phone. this is potentially a problem because she's flying to New York, where ironically her ex-bf Matt is supposed to pick her up, but she won't be able to call Matt when she gets there because she doesn't have a phone anymore. she gets panicky. she keeps walking through the airport where she randomly sees BJ Novak (Ryan from The Office). so she runs up to BJ and the conversation goes something like this:

N: i know i don't know you, and this is kind of weird but i broke my cell phone and i really need to call my mom to get my friend's number so that they can pick me up when i land. can i please use your phone?
BJ: NO. i don't know you, this is weird, and you can't use my phone.
N: i always knew you were a dick!

that was really my favorite part of the dream, but for posterity's sake the rest of it goes something like this: she finally finds a payphone and calls her mom and is crying while telling her what has been happening. while she's on the phone, she overhears on the loudspeaker that she's missed her flight and i don't really remember the rest. i just love that she saw BJ Novak in the airport and that he was an ass. i also think it's funny how The Office rules our lives and we no longer go anywhere on Thursday nights because we can't risk not seeing it. last night's episode was FANTASTIC for you poor saps that missed it. go spend $1.99 on iTunes and buy it. you won't regret it.

TGIF.

(disclaimer: i do not personally know, nor have i ever seen BJ Novak in person. i do not think he really is a dick, nor am i really calling him one in this entry of my blog)

2006-11-16T07:59:00.000-08:00

myspace... no longer mine?

before you freak out and throw me on a pile of burning wood, calm down and read. no, people, i'm not saying that i'm over myspace. i still check it religiously and would be desperately lost without it. BUT in the recent weeks i have become more and more dissatisfied with the myspace world. maybe dissatisfied is the wrong word... bored? hence me starting this blog. and now, friends, at the urge of Ben Gibbard i've also created a MOG account.

what is MOG, you say? funny, because i'm not really sure. from what i gather it's a community similar to myspace but is purely made for music, musicians and music fans alike. no, you won't have to deal with unsolicited friend requests from horrible bands because there are no friend requests. it's really just a page that you create to share your likes (or dislikes for that matter) with whom ever chooses to stumble across you.

i'm still building and becoming acquainted with the whole idea, but check it before you wreck it. http://mog.com/yesiamaninja

go make your own. you know you want to. and i want to see what you're listening to...

2006-11-11T19:47:00.000-08:00

things i would tell Danielle if she were here

1.) i hate it when people say "that is so you!" what is that even supposed to mean? how is it possible for an inanimate object to be "so me"? i remind you of a sweater? or a pair of sunglasses? "oh my god, those shoes are so you." some one told me that today. no thanks.

2.) it's colder than a mother fucker outside. on Monday it was ninety something degrees. today when i was having a beer on the boardwalk i thought my fingers were going to fall off due to their ungodly low temperature. frostbite - no one's friend.

3.) Lola the cat will not leave me alone. i want her to leave me alone. i miss my cat. i hate Lola the cat. Dave the dog is fine.

4.) it hurts behind my left eye again. i need you to squeeze that one part of my hand, which you say relieves the pain behind my eye, but really it just hurts, too, so i stop thinking about the pain behind my eye. as long as the ends justify the means...

5.) i miss you.

but i guess if Danielle were here and i was telling her these things number five would be irrelevant. oh well.

2006-11-08T11:06:00.000-08:00

i've always favored blue over red...

i'm not one to discuss politics. my silence is not due to the fact that i am uninformed, or don't have an opinion; i simply believe that every one has the right to their own opinion. clearly not every one shares in that belief. left wing this, right wing that. crazy liberals, tight wad conservatives. political discussions often become heated and uncomfortable for all parties involved whether you are actively engaging or merely acting as a spectator in the conversation.

so i'll keep it simple and say i'm pleased overall on a national level.

2006-11-06T22:17:00.000-08:00

you, yes you. you matter.

as you're probably already aware, tomorrow, November 7th, is election day in our fair country. regardless of where your political beliefs fall, please remember to vote.

2006-11-02T14:24:00.000-08:00

how much wood could Abumchuck chuck if Abumchuck could chuck wood?

so last night me, Nix and D managed to stay awake late enough to mosey over to The Good Hurt and see Chad's band play. (they went on at 11:45pm, by the way. who the hell plays at 11:45pm on a Wednesday night?) i've been inside the joint for maybe all of thirty seconds when a large, yet friendly man approaches me. we'll call him Abumchuck (all you Weeds watchers should get it and now know exactly what he looks like). Abumchuck is very nice and offers to buy me a beer, but i've already paid for the one in my hand, and politely tell him, "maybe the next one." Nikki and i stand there and make small talk with him where we learn that he's been in LA for about a week, is staying on his friend's couch, is 31 and from Kentucky. i start to become uncomfortable when he tells me that i look eighteen and he likes that, so i leave Nikki for a brief moment and find Danielle. we giggle about Abumchuck and everything that he stands for but then i go back to Nikki because i feel bad for leaving her all by herself with this oddly jovial fellow. then things just start getting really weird. it becomes clear that Abumchuck has had one too many New Castles (although he prefers Bass on tap. he must have said that about eight hundred thousand times. got it. Bass on tap.) so we both duck out and find Chad who is playing pool.

on our way to the pool table Nikki proceeds to tell me how Abumchuck asked her if i was single. being the great friend that she is, she said yes. thanks, Nix. i'll remember that. i start to get more weirded out as she then tells me he said i was the "perfect height" which she also agreed with. the perfect height to what? stuff into a trunk?!! at this point i begin gulping my beer.

unfortunately for me, The Good Hurt isn't exactly bumping so Abumchuck has no problem spotting us playing pool. he pulls up a chair right next to me and tries to guess my astrological sign. he's apparently awful at guessing so i offer him the answer at which point he tries to tell me that i am nothing at all like a Capricorn (because he knows me so well...) Abumchuck has once again become too much.

i finish my beer. he offers to buy me another. i politely say "no thank you, i'm driving," even though i really do want another beer and am in fact not driving. most of you are probably telling me to just take the free beer, but truth be told i don't want to have to talk to this guy for another minute - another second, for that matter. he’s too creepy and annoying. i want it to be over. "please go away Abumchuck, please..." i say over and over in my head hoping that some how he'll subliminally get the message. but he's not getting the message. and then comes the icing on the cake. he puts his arm around me, pulls me awkwardly close and says "if i were going to the North Pole, i would definitely take you with me." what? what the fuck does that even mean? "thank you," is all i can manage to mutter. he still has his arm around me. he's so large i feel at any moment my life could be compromised if he so chose to squeeze me a bit tighter - Abumchuck could very well break me in two. i'm starting to feel panicky and some how manage to wriggle myself from his grip. i don't turn back to look at him as i run away.

in other exciting news, i just bit off all of my fingernails. not really sure why. some people call it a nervous habit. i'm not nervous for any reason at the current moment. it just seemed like a fun thing to do, i guess. more fun than work at least...

2006-10-29T23:13:00.000-08:00

a few things that need addressing

first, i was so freaking high last night. i started to write a bit, but for the life of me could not put together a coherent thought. luckily for you, i managed to save the ramblings as a draft and will now publish them for your viewing pleasure.

begin nonsense.

"'cause i'm gonna be hi-i-igh as a kite by then

i'm sitting in the living room drinking wine and watching The Blair Witch Project. i've also already consumed pot pasta (thanks Chad) and just cleared La Fonda (again) so motion sickness is beginning to set in. maybe blogging will settle the senses.

some pressing issues that have been on my mind lately:

- who are the people that join (insert useless object here) of the month clubs? why do they feel the need to have nonsense sent to them on a monthly basis? do they really eat the fruit from the fruit of the month club? do they really drink the random beer that no one has ever heard of that comes to their doorstep month after month? or does it all just sit in their garage/basement/attic/cupboard/trash can like i think that it does? just curious.
- why do people ever feel the need to fake cry? i hate people who fake cry. not in a joking way, because every one is occasionally guilty of a pouty crying protest when they don't get their way. i mean the people who just flat out fake cry for attention. did you really hurt yourself that bad when you drunkenly walked into the door at The Whaler? no. so don't fake cry.
- what is the real reason behind Donald Duck wearing a shirt but no pants, and then wearing a towel around his waist when he gets out of the shower? what is he covering up? he doesn't wear pants. why the fuck does he put the towel on?!! i fucking hate it."

end nonsense.

next, i am obsessed with Monkeywrencher Love Song by The Honey Brothers at the current moment. it has been on repeat for the past day.

i (and by i, i really mean me, my roommates, and even Greg across the street, and maybe even you) am also obsessed with Guitar Hero on PS2. Nikki and Danielle played it last night at Greg's and would not stop talking about it. i thought they were idiots. i had played very briefly once with Jake. neither one of us really loved it so we dismissed it without a second thought. but they would not stop ranting, so i figured i'd give it a second chance. one word: AMAZING. you're probably shaking your head and rolling your eyes but trust me, you don't even know the half of it. you think we're lame for even admitting that we play, let alone know what Guitar Hero is? oh, child. we're such losers that we actually found a used copy on Craigslist and proceeded to drive to Northridge to pick it up. never thought i'd go to the valley again ever in my life, but there are some things that you just have to do. going to the valley to purchase Guitar Hero from our new friend Jonathan was one of them. we've pretty much been playing non-stop. don't be jealous. you, too, can be a Guitar Hero. shit, you can be a Guitar Hero 2 on November 7th. that's right - Guitar Hero 2. write it on your calendars.

speaking of things that i love, i've rekindled my fondness for FreeCell. maybe because i'm a FreeCell champion. i'm just that good...

in fact, i would play a few rousing games right now but have just realized that i'm super sleepy. Seacrest, out.

2006-10-25T16:27:00.000-07:00

who wants another shot?

my mission last night was clear and simple - get every one drunk. how did i go about tackling this feat? pouring round after round of shots non stop seemed to do the trick. how ever, some i managed to convince myself that it was perfectly logical for me to "sample" one from each round that went out. 12 rounds later, i was a little sleepy to say the least.

but all and all i was successful. TJ was pretty much ready to puke when Nikki and i were saying our goodbyes so i was happy. except for when i was on a hike this morning with Nix, D and D's mom and i thought i was going to throw up. i wasn't very happy then. but it was nothing a little meditation by the stream couldn't fix. thank the lord for the stream and the crazy lady with a bell on her shoe. i'm pretty sure she helped me in some way or another whether she knows it or not.

happy birthday, TJ.

2006-10-24T10:48:00.000-07:00

drip, drip, drip, drip...

what's the most annoying sound you can think of? quick, just off the top of your head. the sound of water unremittingly dripping outside of your window when you're trying to fall asleep? weird, that's what i came up with, too!

but it's not just a water drop - it's a water drop echoing through a freaking drain on the side of a building or some nonsense like that. the first night i heard it i thought i was losing my mind; either that or some one was playing a cruel joke on me. but night after night after night i hear it. no one else hears it from their rooms - Nikki and Danielle thought i was making things up. but i'm not. i have to leave my tv on all night to mask that repetitive, mind numbing, soul defacing sound. and it doesn't happen during the day. i work at home, my desk is right by my open window - NOTHING. then the sun sets and it begins.

maybe it's really the neighbor who hates us (he thinks we dented his car with an empty beer can...) attempting his version of Chinese water torture. maybe i should really go throw beer cans at his car. full ones...

2006-10-22T23:38:00.000-07:00

"you can put it on your blog"

fine, i will.

amusing Sunday anecdote:

last night i crawl into bed and pull the blankets up over my head, but quickly realize that something isn't right.

so i turn on the light only to find that some one threw up on my sheet a little. i debate for a moment whether or not to immediately throw it in the washing machine, but the half a vicodin and cold medicine i took earlier are already in full swing, and i realize there is nothing i can do about it.

feeling defeated, i toss the sheet aside and go to sleep.

2006-10-22T12:24:00.000-07:00

things you may not have known before you read this

1. there are four stages of sickness

being sick is a grueling process. let's face it, it doesn't matter if you catch something as simple as a common cold or as volatile as the sars (yes, i just said the sars) feeling under the weather is no bueno. there seems to be a little something going around right now, and having recently entered the beginning of stage four myself, i thought i'd take this time to offer a few words of wisdom to help you and/or your loved ones along.

stage one: blissful ignorance
you feel a little run down but refuse to even consider that you are in pre-sickness mode. physical, mental and emotional exhaustion seep from your every pore, but you blame it on the one too many Ketel tonics that you had the night before, or the vitamins that you forgot to take in the morning. don't be fooled. denial is no one's friend. you are getting sick. do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, immediately go to your medicine cabinet and take the vitamins you claimed to have forgotten accompanied by some airborne or emergen-C to start fighting this thing head on.

stage two: failure and helplessness
you now know that you are sick. there is no turning back. laying in bed and whining profusely are at the top of your to do list, and it feels like every one around you wishes you weren't there. at the risk of sounding overly cruel, they don't want you there. "i don't want to get sick" maliciously rolls off of the tongues belonging to your friends, roommates, family and co-workers. even the guy at Starbucks doesn't want anything to do with you as he lays your change on the counter rather than putting it directly in your hand. he doesn't want your germs. in fact, he doesn't even want you in his store.

stage three: cynicism and spite
the children's song "nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess i'll eat some worms" is now on repeat in your mind. you're grumpy - really grumpy - and you mistake any genuine concern for pity. feeling tossed aside like an outcast, you envelop outcast mode. "if they don't want to be around me, then i'll lock myself in my room and never come out again" becomes a rational thought in your head.
** the only comforting words i can offer are fret not, for most likely all of these people you have encountered will become sick within the next day or two (thanks to you). but when that time comes, you will not mock them. you will not send them disparaging thoughts. you will hope that they recover swiftly, for karma is a bitch, my friend. (fine, i will let you have first 5 minutes - not one more or less - after you learn they have become ill to laugh behind their backs and hope that others treat them with the same disdain that they imposed on you but only because every once in a while vindication is well deserved)

stage four: acceptance and letting go.
the virus inside you is slowly but surely dying. your strength is returning due to the fact that DayQuil (or NyQuil depending on the time of day) has been entering your body like clockwork. you can almost breath out of your nose when you wake up in the morning. congratulations, you fought a hard battle.

your friends start calling you again because they figure they've given you enough time to recuperate and they have missed you and/or your drunken antics. you try to act like you're bitter because a small part of you feels that they left you for dead, but that's only stage three trying to creep back into your life. deep down you really missed them, too. so put on your favorite jeans, go to the Whaler, and have a celebratory Scooby. i promise it will make you feel brand new. if one Scooby turns into 13, and you suddenly feel sick again the next morning, don't be alarmed for we all know that is a completely different kind of sickness. you still have every right to be proud that you conquered your previous ailment and won, but getting over your hang over is a whole other blog...

2. there is nothing better in the world than a bagel special from Abbot's Habit

you may be shaking your head in disapproval because you think there are plenty of things in the world that are better than a bagel special from Abbot's Habit. hear me out, try it, then get back to me.

the preface: one bagel special is too much for one person, so grab a friend - or just make one when you get there - because proportion is key.

the perfect order: one bagel special with lox and a wheat bagel scooped out. one more wheat bagel scooped out with cream cheese. and then a caffeinated beverage of your choice (my recommendation: iced soy latte with two Equals).

the perfect way to construct your bagel layer by layer: cream cheese, red onion, avocado, sprouts. that pretty much fills the "scooped" part of the bagel leaving a perfect canvas to lay the tomato, lox, and then the cucumber on top so that you have something that's not sticky/slimy/gross to hold on to. eat it one half at a time so as to avoid awkward bites or eating too fast. this will also reduce the chances of other people (maybe even the friend you brought or recently made) giving you a funny look as you try to fit the entire height of the bagel plus toppings in your mouth all at once.

the aftermath: complete satisfaction.

3. i love you

ok, so this one is pretty much a given but just in case i haven't told you lately i thought i should throw it out there. i just love you.

2006-10-20T10:17:00.000-07:00

being sick = no fun

yesterday i had a minor sore throat, but convinced myself that i simply smoked too much weed the previous night. then i woke up this morning and couldn't breathe through my nose and it became apparent that i have been in denial. i am sick. i really hate being sick - which seems superfluous to say, but i really hate being sick. most of you are probably telling me to "get over it" as you read this, seeing that i work from home and can just crawl into bed at my leisure. i'm a mere 2 feet (if that) from my wonderfully cozy bed, yet the last of the four jobs that i'm supposed to get out ASAP is staring me in the face and mocking me incessantly. i hate it, too.

at least today is Friday, my favorite day of the week. i’ll do what i need to do, rest when/if i can and suck it up. fear not, you WILL see me at The Whaler for happy hour.

2006-10-18T15:36:00.000-07:00

drumroll please

it's the moment you've all been waiting for - the unveiling of the newest addition to 124 Fleet Street. and the winner is... Dave! no, not Dave the dog (though he is still here and yes it does get confusing sometimes with both of them in the same room.), Dave {insert last name here}. i would give you his last name so that you could stalk him on myspace but it wouldn't do much good because he's "one of those" - and by "one of those" i mean people who feel the need to make their profile private. (don't worry, Dave. i'm "one of those", too.)

so funny story about Dave... after we interview him, we determine he's a cool kid and what not. we go away to Mexico for Danille's birthday and while we're gone, Dave looks at a couple other places. we get back from Mexico, interview a couple more people, don't really like any of them and make the obvious choice. but in this short time period, Dave temporarily goes insane and agrees to move in with some one else. who, you ask? EXCELLENT question. why, Jordan B Nice! who else? small world... and don't worry, folks. Dave has obviously come back down to the real world, as he now lives with us instead of our lovely (for lack of better term) ex-roommate.

another funny story about Dave. he LOVES cats. lol.

moving on...

tonight's the night, kids! grab your loved ones and get ready for the PR season finale. i'm nervous and excited all at the same time. if Laura wins i'll just DIE. i can not stand her or any of her black dresses for that matter. please God, if there is a God, do NOT let Laura Bennett win Season 3 of Project Runway. if she does, i will know for a fact that the show is rigged. while i'll admit that i do like Jay, Chloe should not have won last year so this year if they get it wrong again it'll be too much. enough is enough, people. cross your fingers.

it's really hot in my room. i need a diet coke...

2006-10-12T13:58:00.000-07:00

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!

i can not believe that iridescent pregnant carrot top had the audacity to try and start shit with Jeffrey on PR last night. who does she think she is? it was one thing when Kayne actually saw design books in Keith Michael's room and went to the producers about it; but to "tell on some one" based on pure speculation? ridiculous. ri-fucking-diculous.

if Jeffrey does not get to show at Olympus Fashion Week... i don't even want to think about it.

make it work.

2006-10-10T15:27:00.000-07:00

3:20 isn't nearly as good as 4:20

first, i'm locked in my room right now because the termite man is upstairs spraying again and i hate it. for any one not familiar with the appearance of a termite please search Google for pictures. they're nothing at all what i expected them to be. who knew termites had wings? i guess the termite man, did...

second, we've found some one to rent the loft but i'm not prepared to reveal the individual's identity yet for security purposes. story (GREAT story) will follow shortly with the unveiling.

third, work has been very stressful today. i don't like it one bit. i miss Starbucks every day. i would leave my house to go get a latte right now but that would require me walking through living room and the termite chemicals, which would defeat the purpose of locking myself in my room. fuck.

fourth, four is my favorite number.

enough with the numbers... Nikki introduced me to ear candles last night. they're amazing. i highly recommend you go to your nearest health food store and pick some up. get some for your friends, make a drink, lay with your head on the table together and see what gross shit comes out of your ears. guaranteed good times.

Sunday i got the Bangles "Everything" on vinyl and i can't stop listening to it. i love it. brings me back to 3rd grade when me, Katy, Mara and Kristin used to pretend we were the Bangles, but Kristin always got to be Susanna Hoffs. i don't remember who i was. i only remember i was never Susanna Hoffs.

better luck next time.

2006-10-08T11:32:00.000-07:00

welcome to the land of the living

ok, so i used to blog but then i found out over a period of time that i suck at it. not because i'm not witty enough, or because interesting things don't happen to me and i have nothing to share with the rest of the world, but simply because i'm lazy. then something miraculous happened. today as i was half asleep (yes, fully aware that it's only 11:30am and the fact that i've already napped can be viewed as "odd" to say the least), half watching a rousing episode of TLC's While You Were Out in which it was revealed that the woman revamping her room was discovered by Random House via her blog it dawned on me that it could happen. a year from now after you've been loving every second that you've spent reading about my sometimes crazy, mostly insane life, i, too, could be solicited to turn my daily ins and outs into a book. far fetched? absolutely.

fine, i'm starting a new blog because i miss writing. you caught me. i don't have some elaborate scheme in my head which ultimately lands me as a celebrated author (yes i do); i simply miss writing and sharing my writings with you. yes, you. you are special. don't ever let any one tell you otherwise. especially not your mother. a mother's words can be catastrophically damaging, or incredibly nurturing depending on how they come out. that's why i'm not sure i'm cut out to be a mom. it's too much pressure and responsibility.

i digress.

so last night Joyce and i went to see The Killers. great show, great venue, NOT so great people. what's wrong with people at concerts these days? overly obnoxious drunk idiots? check. seventeen year olds who clearly only bought tickets because they could make out for a few hours with absolute certainty that their parents couldn't walk in on them? check. girls (or guys for that matter...) who appear to be bored out of their minds and only attended because their date/boyfriend/husband/sugar daddy/whom ever bought them a ticket? check. old creepy men scoping for pre-pubescent teens who honestly think they have a chance of blowing some one in the band? check. pre-pubescent teens who honestly think they have a chance of blowing some one in the band? check. i just don't get it. but then again i don't think i get a lot of people these days. either i'm just becoming more picky with whom i associate myself with, or i've officially turned into one of those people who thinks that every one else in the world besides themselves is a full fledged weirdo. newsflash to the latter (maybe me...) the "it's not me, it's them" theory is ridiculous. there is nothing believable in saying that you are normal and no one else is. get over yourself.

again, i digress.

i think i'm hungry. or maybe i haven't had enough caffeine yet, today. Gaby's and coffee it is.

it's good to be back, thanks for having me.