dear person who just robbed me,

it may appear that you have scored big-- making off with my car radio with little to no damage to the vehicle (you still left my trunk open though, you asshat.) However, seeing that all you took from my car was a dated MINI-DISC player, I would have to conclude that the only real victim here is you-- because seriously, WHO HAS MINI-DISCS ANYMORE?!

have a blast trying to re-sell it, 'cause lord only knows how the current trend in electronics is practically BURSTING OUT OF IT'S PANTIES to get it's hands on some hot Sony MD action, circa 1998. FO SHO.

...


Mammoth was lots of fun, though no visit to Devil's Postpile. I still got to play in the snow with first graders, sit in a boiling jacuzzi drunk, and visit Convict Lake aka Pond of Death (no geological features, just a site where a bunch of people died.)

Also finally got to watching '300'. Had it not been for all the testosterone in that film, my gonads would have never descended-- EVER!

i should be packing...

I tend to get down about myself whenever I read the fabulously embellished lives of others I know online. Though, I should remind myself that everybody is dissatisfied with themselves, regardless of occupation, wealth, or terribly good looks (i.e. Christian Bale's slump into depression after filming Reign of Fire-- WHY DO I REFERENCE THIS?!)

I came across a survey David filled out and emailed to me a while back; as always, it made me smile.

17: tell me something about you that I don't know: When I was in elementary school and my mom would walk to the school to pick up my brother sister and me I would sometimes run home before anyone else and get popcorn and chocolate chips and wrap them into a napkin and microwave it so it was a huge chocolate-popcorn ball and let it cool in my dresser drawer. I also ate some of an old lunchable that was under my bed... but i think it was just the cheese and crackers.

In a few hours I'm going up to Mammoth with my brother and his in-laws. All I'm planning on packing is some sturdy boots, a poncho, and a couple bottles of dessert wine ($7 dolla HOLLA!) I don't want to snowboard, I don't want to sled, I just want to visit Devil's Postpile and marvel at the geometric absurdities of nature.

Speaking of which, Romanesco is INSANE LOOKING.

picnics and tight pants

it means something when the skin imprint left by the seams of my pants is so deep, that it looks as if I'm wearing skin-pants.

tomorrow-- or today, I'm going to drive out to Castaic and discuss more websites and eat more food and come back home more dissastisfied with myself. lately I find myself becoming more of something I don't want to be this year: a lump of crap. I wake up relatively late, go to work, sit at a computer for 3-4 hours, drive home, sit at a computer again for 5-6 hours (depending on the project at hand/gawker posts), go out late, play racketball, and eat a huge inappropriately porportioned meal. go home, fall asleep reading or playing animal crossing (sometimes both) and repeat it all verbatim the following day.

Whenever I drive to work and the weather is just right (sunny with clouds, a cold breeze) I like to play 'Ceremony' really loud and roll both my windows down as I'm speeding along the cascading hill on the 57. All the noise and air whipping around me create this temporary bubble of complacency and calm; almost to a point where I forget how inherently depressed I am.

...

David and I have been together for two years. TWO YEARS! I've never been committed to someone for that long. We didn't celebrate the occasion with anything (though I secretly wanted to) but he did remind me of the actual date (I had forgotten.) He believes we got together on the 15th of March, the evening of which I first held his hand while he drove me home. I thought we got together on the 23rd-- when one of us gathered up enough gall to kiss (drunkenly) on the couch during Ellen's going away party.

(I remember the following day, Steven showed up at my work to drop off a $200 record player with a vague note asking if we could still be friends.)

The honeymoon romance is over. It ebbs up to the surface of our relationship every-now-and-then but for the most part, we are like a pair of senior citzens. We take long walks, we hold hands, we disagree but never quarrel, we take forever to eat a piece of cake, we are more like pillows and naptime than motors and progress.

living la vida embarazado

around half-past midnight david and I get this ENORMOUS craving for nachos and chili, but immediately get side-tracked by an equally disasterous st. patrick's day cookie cake, which we devoured in the car while taking swigs from a box of soy milk. we also bought three bags of kettle chips, two cadbury creme eggs, a Lindt chocolate bar, and a tub of guacamole.

at 3 am I woke up to find that we had passed out on the couch snacking on said items, with the UK Office idly playing on the tv.

i don't know what caused this sudden flux of terrible eating when neither of us were high or pregnant.

sunday is the new blunday

I was stumbling in-between consciousness yesterday night after sitting through the longest business meeting ever in my life. SIX HOURS LONG. with no food or snacks aside from a glass of sparkling water to suppliment my dwindling attention span/raging hunger. By the fifth hour, I became more intent on listening to the delicious sounds made by my boss's dogs as they crunched on their food in the adjacent room. Gripped by jealousy over what sounded like Fruity Pebbles cereal being consumed, I must of shifted uncomfortably in my seat for a good ten minutes or so while my mouth painfully salivated over my favorite part of a complete breakfast.

By the time the meeting was adjourned, I booked it to Rey's Tepeyac and devoured a carne-asada burrito, which in the end proved to be a terrible idea (tummy aches & rabbit poo.)

...

There are not enough girlfriends in my life these days. When I stand around females I tend to feel disconnected and lonely; like an unshaven bum with a peg leg-- no matter how many times I try telling them my scintillating 'Nam stories, they all just push me away. Talking to Dawn on the phone the other night was nice though; I helped her think of ways to photograph her cats and sucessfuly get her boyfriend to propose to her ("maybe you can make him a roofie sandwich picnic and follow it all up with a garden wedding?") It was nice making someone other than my imaginary friends laugh.

Sad.

Today is Sunday and it feels completely lackluster despite the goregeous weather. HOWEVER! For the first time ever, I am going to make a To-Do list that I'll complete!

1.) Sit at the computer fiddling around with random projects; do not finish any of them.
2.) Play Animal Crossing.
3.) Use the bathroom.
4.) Watch 2039480912093 more Office episodes to make up for the gaping wound that the last episode left behind.
5.) Snack on random things around the house.
6.) Meet with Dale and repeat #'s 3 - 5 in similar fashion.

SO ACCOMPLISHED! Take that Lack of Purpose!

pocahontas envy

For the past week I've been watching 'The New World' before going to sleep every night, which actually results in me not getting any sleep at all.

It's the jealously that mostly keeps me awake really; what does pocahontas have that I don't?! I hardly bathe, make random animal noises, and love running around in dirt-- yet I still don't get to hook up with Colin Farrell and Christian Bale (who both seem to consistently get my panties in a bunch over how goregeous they are with beards, long hair, and 16th century period clothing.)

david in response, has been growning a beard himself. He tells me that even when I'm half-awake, I still run my fingers through it and scrunch the hairs up in my hands, which is CREEPY. If I like beards so much I should just grow one myself (which sadly, is completely possible for me.)

so current obsessions as of late:

1. beards
2. dirty, unkept, colonial versions of modern european actors