cow parade. you go check it out now. it rocks.

Quilllllllllteeeeeeee!

I just remembered that The Italian Job came out yesterday, and seeing as there’s like 3, possibly more, guys in it that are on my list I’m jazzed to see it. So if yous guys are up for it maybe we can all go Sunday afternoon before the tv watching or something, I don’t know.

Jen and I decided to check out the new-ish pool hall a couple doors down last night. I think it’s called Bo Dudley’s. Probably because the Bo Diddley name was already taken by some guy somewhere.

It’s a really nice pool hall, but I felt like a bumbling re-re when we went in because there was so much weirdness. This weirdness included a chick who was standing just inside the door, all maitre’d like, and she asked us how many were playing. Maybe that’s not so weird, but she never did anything with this information. She walked inside and sat down at the bar while we proceeded to talk to the old guy running things about getting a table.

So then old guy asks if we want a 7ft or 9ft table. Jen and I look at each other, all dumbfounded and shit. Who knew there were so many options!?!?! We just wanted to play pool! So I just throw out “oh, we’ll take a 9ft table.” (telling Jen I was getting the bigger table to overcompensate for something) He walks us over to our table, gives us the milkyball, and leaves.

While we were playing some random 40-something stops by and comments how impressed he was that we were playing pool on a tournament sized table, and that these actual tables were used in some tournament in Atlantic City. Whoopideedoo, I’m thinking. I just like to play pool. I bet this guy knew pool like some guys know basketball.

So afterwards we wreaked havoc at Hollywood Video for a little while before deciding to rent Lolita (the old Kubrick version). It was really really good, but way too fucking long. And in case you’re sitting at home thinking, “WOW, she didn’t fall asleep during a movie she was watching at home?” let me assure you I did catch myself starting to nod off a couple of times. But I actually didn’t miss any movie. So there.

In other news many thanks to David, who keeps me in the know about things like eating corn husks and Simpsons references that I can’t grasp. Turns out the Mr. X episode is a big fat spoof of some old show called The Prisoner which I’ve never seen. Not understanding the episode made a lot more sense when I found that out.

Also, I’ve been back for almost a week now and I think I’m still a bit upset/depressed about that. Moving to help your future is hard. Staying there to help your future is harder. Especially when you find out that Quiksilver's hiring a graphic designer now, for thier Roxy division no less, and you want the damn job because it's in Huntington Beach and thier free table would be stuff you could wear yourself but you know even if you did apply you won't get hired because you don't have the necessary experience just yet... A year and a half or so more of b'gosh will remedy that nicely. None of those sentences really go together all that well. If you're really that bothered by it you can blow me where the Pampers is.

I always feel just a little weird saying I’m not as happy here as I am in Southern Ca because I feel like I’m telling my friends that are from here that their home sucks. It doesn’t. It’s just not my home.

Before I go take a shower and stuff… if you’re not reading my friend Maria’s blog you should start. I don’t know how else to describe it, but it’s a very realistic look at med school. Reading it makes me really proud of her, because I don’t think I could ever handle the things she goes through as well as she does.

Oh yeah, and one more thing - I'll never watch this current Divas special on VH1, but I really like the graphics they did for it. Really cool stuff.

Now's the time on Sprockets when we brush our skanky-ass teeth, yo.

Oh. My. God. She can type. Wonders never cease. Or, rather, they cease for 3 months and then start up again, trying to make me all weepy with their incessant “and Janie”s. If you know what movie that “and Janie” is from you win Ultimate Coolness points, which someday will be redeemable for a lifetime supply of sporks.

I have to say after that cake test my self esteem’s doing pretty awesome. It was an honest-to-goodness tie, ending up with my cake-ological profile reading thusly: (wow that’s some vocabulary you got there, missy!) You (meaning me) are adventurous, love new ideas, are a champion of underdogs and a slayer of dragons. When tempers flare up, you (again, me) whip out your saber. You (me, me, me, it's all about me) are a very fun loving person, who likes to laugh. You (yes, it's about you know who) are fun to be with (but not funny). People like to hang out with you (me? little ol' me?). You (aw, shucks, stop, you're making me blush!) are a very warm hearted person.

Dammit, now I want cake.

No, really. I’m almost ready to get my shoes on to go to the store. But it’s almost 10:30, and I like sleep sooooo much. So no cake for me.

The weirdest episode ever of the Simpsons is on right now. The one where Homer was Mr. X, uncovering all kinds of scandal, and then he gets kidnapped to some weird freaky psycho-land that I never understand no matter how many times I see it. It’s probably a big fat spoof of some movie I started watching once but fell asleep during. Crap.

So no Chick-a-Go land for Jen and me tomorrow; the powers that be kept changing their minds so stuff didn’t get done. And it absolutely has to get sent out tomorrow. But word is that when our Bosslady gets back next week she’ll go over what we should be looking at when we do go shopping, and then we’ll be released to the wild early next week or some shit like that.

If you know what’s up with this Simpsons rerun I wish you’d tell me, it just creeps me out.

The prom dress is coming along swimmingly. Unfortunately, while it’s fun to say, boning is wicked hard to deal with on the machine of the sewing. But I did get through it, and the last piece of boning I put in turned out much nicer than the first piece of boning, which equals progress in the realm of my sewing abilities.

Bwahahaha, I said boning. Like 3 times. Bwahhaahahaaha. Boning, boning, boning.

So that’s it, I’m going to bed. Talked to my girl Jen out in Pasadena tonight, and dammit, while we’re at prom she’ll be watching Jay Mohr at the Ontario Improv. Did you know Jay’s on my list? Cuz he is. Speaking of the list, I should get back on finding all the links. There’s quite a lot of links to be found.

I’m gonna get back to that – maybe I’ll be able to post the list this weekend or something. Later gators.

dude, what the hell's up with blogger? suckers.

(Note – this is possibly not the exact perfect wording. You’ll learn to deal, I’m sure.)

“There's like a million different deliveries for newborns. There’s the bunny group, and the chicken group, and the airplane group,” Steph says, trailing off a little.

“And the dead-frogs-on-pogo-sticks-while-carrying-goblets-of-blood-group, don’t forget that one,” I say.

“You should start working on that one tomorrow,” she laughs.

So, um, I started early.

No, it’s not the cleanest thing ever. It was a fast dirty sketch and I didn’t really feel like spending the time to clean it all up nice and purty before painting it. But hot damn does it make me chuckle. There's a larger, 300dpi version if you feel like you need one. Just email me and let me know.

I love me some Dog Eat Dog. Do you watch that game show? Well you should. The best part is watching someone try to do a stunt and they’re being totally lame about it and you can see right away how to do it better or faster, and they don’t do it your way no matter how loudly you’re yelling at the television, and then you get pissed when the person inevitably runs out of time. Christina, you’re a dumbass. Why didn’t you just jump from the top of the wall into the water instead of trying to do the rock-climbing thing all the way down?

Someday I’ll get off my ass and try out for that show. They don’t make you put needles through your arm and eat cow eyeballs covered in maggots like Fear Factor does.

Which reminds me of this really funny email string my sister Michelle and I had going last week. It went a little something like this (hit it!)

My email: “You know, if I ever had an educational math show on TV I’d probably call it Charlie’s Angles.”

Michelle’s email: “Oh yeah? If I had an educational math show on TV I’d call it Fear Factoring.”

My email: “Maybe I’ll have a very well-rounded learning show – I’ll call it General Education Hospital.”

Because we’re sisters and this is how things work, she never wrote back and that means I won.

It’s things like that that make living 2000 miles away from Orange County very hard to deal with.

Today was not easy. I went to work figuring I’d find my art all sent out, with my copies of the final paperwork sitting in a happy little pile next to my keyboard. I expect way, way too much. Art changed drastically while I was gone, a small portion got sent out, my notebook where I keep track of all my stuff that’s been sent out, revised, dropped and so on got completely torn apart . And while the art deadline was a week and a half ago, there was still art that hadn’t even been started yet.

So there’s that. The day got easier as it went on; I was able to figure out the mess that was made of my art notebook, make a ton of changes that needed to be made, send out some artwork, and start other things that needed starting.

Plus, I’m a total dork – I was planning on going to the gym after work, but then copped out because I had to go grocery shopping. But more importantly, my arm is still killing me. Thanks, Danielle. I miss you already, and I have a feeling my frustration with being here instead of there will fade as slowly as the huge-ass green and purple bruise on my upper right arm.

Porno.

“Say Goodbye to Hollywood” by Billy Joel

Bobby's driving through the city tonight-
Through the lights-
In a hot new rent-a-car.
He joins the lover in his heavy machine-
It's a scene down on Sunset Boulevard.

Say goodbye to Hollywood
Say goodbye my baby.
Say goodbye to Hollywood,
Say goodbye my baby.

Johnny's taking care of things for awhile-
And his style is so right for troubadors.
They got him sitting with his back to the door
Now he won't be my fast gun anymore.

Moving on is a chance that you take every time you try to stay together.
Say a word out of line and you find that the friends you had are gone-
Forever...forever.

So many faces in and out of my life,
Some will last, some will just be now and then.
Life is a series of hellos and good-byes-
I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.

Say goodbye to Hollywood
Say goodbye my baby.
Say goodbye to Hollywood,
Say goodbye my baby.

(saxophone solo)

Moving on is a chance that you take every time you try to stay together.
Say a word out of line and you find that the friends you had are gone-
Forever...forever.

So many faces in and out of my life,
Some will last, some will just be now and then.
Life is a series of hellos and good-byes-
I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.

Say goodbye to Hollywood
Say goodbye my baby.
Say goodbye to Hollywood,
Say goodbye my baby.

****************************************

Ashashashasha, I’m back. And this time it’s personal. How’s that for a movie trailer intro?

Vacation is never ever ever long enough. And aside from the ever-present family drama, it was a fuckin’ rad four days. For your amusement, here’s the highlights that I kept track of in my trusty purse-journal.

5/21/03
About halfway between Oshkosh and the Midway airport in Chicago, I passed a porn store. It was 4am and there were 10 cars in the parking lot. I’m assuming 2 cars at most belonged to employees. Which means there’s at least 8 guys, possibly more, who wanted to buy porn at 4am in the middle of nowhere.

4:30am – Wrong turns can sometimes cost you big – like 40 cents big.

5:30am – Walking through the airport to my gate, I passed a zamboni parked in the doorway to a bathroom.

6am – Sitting at my gate with an incessant high pitched beeping going on – someone’s hit an emergency exit door and only a cop can turn off the alarm. The cops are never around when you really need them.

Around 9am – Paging through the SkyMall magazine, looking at all kinds of crap I can buy for $100; Hammer Schlemmer’s got a pair of binoculars that can take pictures of what you’re looking at… seems like the perfect invention for a certain ex-boyfriend…

Also around 9am – Goddam, I have to pee and they just turned on the Fasten Seatbelt sign because of turbulance – the bumping and jostling really isn’t helping my situation any.

11:40am – Hooray for half-nekkid overweight old guys on bikes at the beach!

5/22/03
8am – A woman’s place is behind the refridgerator.

11:30am – mmmm…. Car stereo sandwiches….

11pm – Oh god I can’t wait for Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles on Saturday.

5/23/03
11:30am – California toll roads are like Martha Stewart selling pies.

5:56pm – Lehman chicks – too lazy to look for parking, but not too lazy to walk.

10:23pm – Prom Dress Mondays. Think about it.

12:25am – I am a mofo. (I wish you could see how terrible my writing got here – I was really drunk.)

5/24
8:02pm – Note to self: Oh how I love Roscoes, and OP is out of Irvine – look into that someday when you’re ready to start the job hunt back in the OC. And Billabong I think (or was it Quiksilver?) is in the industrial park behind Marina High School.

8:34pm – look up Red Rooster Louisiana Hot Sauce. You know, the stuff they have at Roscoe’s.

5/25
4:21am – They just played Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees” on the blessed blessed KROQ. You just don’t get to hear shit like that on the radio back in WI.

5:30am – I understand the need to have people show up freakishly early to the airport so they can go through all the proper channels as far as security goes, but when your flight’s at 7am and you show up around 5am and there’s no one else at the airport so all your checkin crap takes all of 2 minutes… let’s just say sitting at the port of air for 2 hours when nothing’s open isn’t really my idea of fun.

Now that I think about it maybe it’s a good thing national security procedures aren’t built around my idea of fun. It’d probably be hard to walk through a metal detector, let alone work one, while on a giant trampoline.

5:35am – dear lord vacation was too damn short.

Ahahahaha, before you read the final installment of the California-Song-a-Day odyssey, let me just say I’m a big nasty redhead. The end.

“I Love LA” by Randy Newman

Hate New York City
It's cold and it's damp
And all the people dressed like monkeys
Let's leave Chicago to the Eskimos
That town's a little bit too rugged
For you and me you bad girl

Rollin' down the Imperial Highway
With a big nasty redhead at my side
Santa Ana winds blowin' hot from the north
And we were born to ride

Roll down the window put down the top
Crank up the Beach Boys baby
Don't let the music stop
We're gonna ride it till we just can't ride it no more

From the South Bay to the Valley
From the West Side to the East Side
Everybody's very happy
'Cause the sun is shining all the time
Looks like another perfect day

I love L.A. (We love it)
I love L.A. (We love it)

Look at that mountain
Look at those trees
Look at that bum over there, man
He's down on his knees
Look at these women
There ain't nothin' like 'em nowhere

Century Boulevard (We love it)
Victory Boulevard (We love it)
Santa Monica Boulevard (We love it)
Sixth Street (We love it, we love it)

I love L.A.
I love L.A.
(We love it)

*******************************

Vacation starts now, hooray hooray! Just gotta finish crammin’ shit in my bag (maybe I should’ve taken a printout of the “things to pack for my trip” checklist for next Spring to help figure out what to bring…), eat dinner, set up the vcr for 24ish goodness, and go to bed for a few hours. Then, at 1am, I’ll get up and begin the trek to the blessed, blessed homeland.

I don’t have a tendency to blog and shit when I’m wit da family, so y’all will just have to do without the funny for a few days.

Enough with the lies! You know I’m not funny.

Even so, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of hilarious hi-jinks to relate to you when I come back on Sunday afternoon. And if I don’t, you know you can count on me to make shit up.

Oh, and like I told Jen this afternoon – if you turn on the news while I’m outs and my apartment complex is burning down, feel free to dial my celly so we can laugh our asses off about it.

That’s it, I’m out.

But before I go, one more thing - there will be plenty of drunkenness over the next few days.

Don’t be surprised if you get a phone call.

yay White Stripes! yay July 5!

yay vacation!

“Naked and Famous” by The Presidents of the United States of America

I can't explain glacial motion
Or why Los Angeles don't drop into the ocean
I can't unfold the layers of mystery
Or piece together the tragedy of history

'Cuz those lucky suckers, they don't have to work
Big 3-D billboards and big 30-foot Smurfs
And everybody wants to be naked and famous
Everybody wanna be just like me, I'm naked and famous

I met a poet, said she didn't like the smell of it
Then took her clothes off in a restaurant for the hell of it
I met a DJ who lived in seclusion, reality and sobriety were her only
delusions

And those lucky bastards, they don't have to work
Big 3-D billboards and big 30-foot Smurfs
And everybody wants to be naked and famous
Everybody wanna be just like me, I'm naked and famous

Woo uh hoo hoo hoo
Wow ah hoo hoo hoo

Well, don't get a nosebleed, don't get upset
We can't be naked and famous just yet
There's a big gold dollar sign on the Sunset Strip
And you can send your friend a postcard, it ain't worth the trip

Everybody wants to be naked and famous
Everybody wanna be just like me I'm naked
Everybody wants to be naked and famous
Everybody wanna be just like me I'm naked
Everybody wants to be naked and famous
Everybody wanna be just like me I'm naked

Wow wow yeah
Ah hoo hoo hoo
Whoo

Everybody wants to be naked and famous
Everybody wants to be just like me I'm naked and famous

************************************

I want to be on vacation now, dammit!

This is going to be a slightly short post. Short in that most of it is not my writing.

First, I have amazing friends. Maria, thank you for the peace of mind. And Jen, thank you for the rad-ass French Kitty journal - I'm making out with it right now. It's totally hot.

Second, please stop and even if you don’t pray, pray for Robert Borneman, who is my friend Kaye’s brother. He was attacked last week and I hope this is cool with you Kaye that I’m sharing this, but it just really freaked me out that something like this could happen out of the blue. I mean I know it happens every day, but still. When it’s someone you know it’s more real somehow; thank god Bob's okay. I got this email from Kaye today:

************************************

The following story is from my brother, Bob. It is about a horrible event that took place last week in his life. I had heard an abbreviated version from my mom the day after it happened, but reading it really puts things into perspective. It made me think this past week about how close we come sometimes to death in our lives. How important it is to let those we love know how much we care about them. Thank God he is okay and will recover mentally and physically from his injuries. I ask for your thoughts and prayers for Bob that he finds peace and rest, as well as peace for the man who attacked him.

Kaye

************************************

I called in sick to work this morning. I wasn't sick, though. I had been assaulted the night before by a total stranger while en route to a party. (His children were screaming profanities at people in the street and I stopped at the front door to alert the parents - and was attacked before I could even say a word.) The police are taking it from here, but I don't know when I'll need to testify. Spent the rest of the evening at the emergency ward to make sure I had nothing broken. Nothing broken. Nothing bleeding either (excpt my palms where I was clutching the doorframe as he dragged me inside the house to beat me up on his own property and then claim that I was tresspassing) - just really, really sore from being slammed repeatedly against the wall and choked to the point that I could not breathe. Luckily the neighbors, who happened to be outside to watch the eclipse, saw everything and called the police and came to his door (which made him stop - he had already threatened to shoot and kill me while I was inside his home and claim it was self defense). Not sure if they will testify against him in court, they are his neighbors, after all, and have to live near him.

Once the neighbors had rescued me, they took me across the street (I was still rather afraid he was going to try to shoot me from inside the house) and another neighbor also called the police. The children all bolted from the house and ran to another neighbors' home. Then the husband and his wife (who had been beside him all this time, clearly afraid he was going to kill me in his drunken delerium) jumped in a car and took off. (He had put a football jersey on over his wifebeater teeshirt to "disguise" himself, I guess.) They took off and the neighbor with the cell phone narrated to the police the direction they had headed off in. Police pulled them over and then asked me if I was sure I wanted to testify against him and make a citizen's arrest. I agreed. They then took me to where his wife had driven him to, in order to identify him (I remained in the police car). He then claimed he wanted to put a citizen's arrest on me for tresspassing. The policeman asked me if I wanted to continue to press charges given that he was claiming to press tresspassing charges on me. I said I would quite happily be arrested for tresspassing since the witnessing neighbor has seen him drag me into his house to start slamming me up against the wall; the tresspassing charges were absurdly false. I think the police may have informed him that he would be guilty of yet another crime if he filed false charges. Needless to say his claim that I tresspassed vanished. He was cited (for battery) and returned home. The police took me (and my bicycle) home and from there I went to the emergency ward to get checked out and have a medical report made. I didn't get home until late - the entire thing took about 5 hours. I had nightmares until dawn.

I am still trying to figure out the moral of the story. I have a tendancy to blame myself first and then slowly realize that it was not my fault. I could have let the kids scream epithets out their window (off the roof actually) at passing strangers. I didn't have to try to alert the parents to their children's misbehaviour. If they had been screaming, at some passing African American: "Hey You Fucking Nigger!" I could have just walked on and let the African American do the same. If they had shouted "Kill the Christ-Killers!" at a passing Hasidic man, I could have ignored it and let him do the same. After all, I'm not their alcoholic, abusive father. The man needs help though. Maybe a court trial and either fines or jail time will help him get that help. Maybe it will never happen. They had been up on the roof, screaming, "Faggot!" at a passing stanger, who decided to not let it go.

I'm really not in much of a state to figure it out. My throat is still sore and my right arm (at the shoulder) really hurts. But I have all my teeth and both eyes and an unbroken nose. He was so intent on tearing my shirt off my chest and slamming my head against the wall that he never had time to swing. He did nicely bruise up my windpipe when he shifted hands to strangle me. Luckily that neighbor showed up in the driveway right then and said he'd called the police. As I stumbled backwards out of the house as he released me I saw the wife, looking very frightened at what her husband had been about to complete, whispering, "Please go!" to me. Right then, instead of thinking about the threats he had just made to shoot and kill me, all I could think of was: that poor woman - if he can do this to a total stranger who knocks on his door, what does he do to her?

It plays across my mind, over and over. It's odd to me that I never raised my voice and never raised my hands to push him back. Once he had hauled me into his hallway all I kept repeating, as calmly as I could, in an eerily detached way, as if watching a movie of myself being slammed against the hallway, "Let go of me, sir. Let go!" I could have tried to kick him in the nuts, to fight back, to gouge out his eyes, to fight. Why didn't I fight back? At the time I tried to respond to irrationality and drunken rage with intellectual calm. I'm not sure that's what saved me. I could easily have been dead in another minute or two.

So, what saved me? The setting was comic: it was unnatually dark. The moon was in full eclipse. Luckily for me it was in full eclipse since that was why the neighbor was standing outside at that very moment, witnessing it all. And when he stepped forward onto their driveway he made his presence known to the attacker, who released me, knowing he was being watched by someone out of his reach. It wasn't my cool rationality that saved me, it was another total stranger who made the decision not to keep on walking, to not turn the other way, to help even when he wasn't asked to help. As I sat in the police car, the earth's shadow slowly pulled away from the moon - crescent, half - and full again. Ingmar Bergman would have been proud - or maybe Joseph Conrad - or maybe Tennessee Williams ("I have always relied on the kindness of strangers.") . Humor saves me now. I laugh at the melodrama of it (and then I pause and shudder at the thought I could have been strangled, shot, or beaten to death by a drunken idiot for absolutely no reason whatsoever).

I distance myself. I ponder the moral. I thank God for the moon, the police, and the kindness of strangers.

- R. Borneman

The lesson tonight kiddies is that I'm a lousy artist.

Or, at least, because even though I can but don't choose to draw photorealistically, I'm not very good.

"Don't get me wrong," she said, "what you're doing is wonderful..." BUT. There's always a but. She went on to tell me about this girl she knew in grade school, and she could draw anything without looking.

"Michelle and I have both been drawing since we could hold pencils," I calmly tell her.

This conversation went on for far too long. Enough to again solidify the fact that she doesn't know anything about me and really doesn't give a shit to learn. She has in her head certain ideas that will never be changed. One of these is that while we are creative, because none of us choose to draw realistic-like we're not really artists.

Forget the fact that I was one of the "designated artists" in every class since around first or second grade. Forget that I drew the cover for my 8th grade class' yearbook, and that I did one damn kickass rendition of the art inside the cd booklet of Queen's News of the World cd for the sidewalk art thingie at the end of my senior year in high school. Forget, too, that I won an art contest with a piece I painted in literally five minutes that same year. Forget that in art school I got nothing but A's and B's, even in the classes where you had to draw what you saw. Forget that I won an animation award from MTV in college. Forget that along with full time art and animation at ThinkBox for two years I had a good string of freelance gigs out of college, including painting a mural on the wall of a Curves for Women. Forget that I moved to Wisconsin to take a job at Oshkosh B'Gosh as an artist, where things I've drawn are now being put onto tshirts for kids.

Forget all that.

Because I'm a lousy artist.

How fucking lame.

I'm really going to get in the shower now - but I went to my high school's website this morning out of curiosity and wow. It is possibly the swankiest high school website IN THE WORLD. Yeah. Say that with yelling and flailing.

“Army” by Ben Folds Five

Well I thought about the army
Dad said, son you're fucking high
And i thought, yeah there's a first for everything
So i took my old man's advice
Three sad semesters
It was only fifteen grand spent in bed
I thought about the army
I dropped out and joined a band instead

Grew a moustache and a mullet
Got a job at Chik-Fil-A
Citing artistic differences
The band broke up in may
And in June reformed without me
And they'd got a different name
I nuked another Grandma's apple pie
And hung my head in shame

I've been thinking a lot today
I’ve been thinking a lot today

Oh, I think I'll write a screenplay
Oh, I think I'll take it to LA
Oh, I think I'll get it done yesterday

In this time of introspection
On the eve of my election
I say to my reflection
God, please spare me more rejection
'Cause my peers, they criticize me
And my ex-wives all despise me
Try to put it all behind me
But my redneck past is nipping at my heels

I’ve been thinking a lot today
I've been thinking a lot today
I've been thinking a lot today
I thought about the army...

****************************************

First a moment of silence for Kat’s cat. I can’t remember if it was towards the end of high school or during one of my breaks from college, but I found our cat in the street in front of our house and she had met the same end. And it totally blows.

And everyone’s a bunch of lying assholes. During our phone conversation last night Michelle told me she’d write something new on her blog. Go look. She’s a damn dirty liar and I hate her guts. Which is why I’m so excited to go back to California on Wednesday.

Yup, Wednesday. I’m a damn dirty liar, too. I changed my plans again, and will be going to bed almost as soon as I get home from work on Tuesday – I can set up the vcr myself for blessed blessed 24 goodness. Then I’ll get up at 1am and drive down to ChickAGo with a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it'll be dark, and I'll be wearing sunglasses. Hit it.

Except for the part where I don't smoke.

And the other reason I’m a damn dirty liar is I said I wouldn’t want to see The Matrix when I got back. Dude, Danielle, we all totally have to go. It’s damn good, and if I don't take you, you'll probably have to wait til it comes out on video, which would be a crime against humanity that I cannot allow. It’s just a matter of picking a time when everyone can go. I get into LAX at 10am or so on Wednesday – you’re in school, ahhahahaahah! Michelle and me and probably her damn-hell-ass cool kids are going down to the beach for a little while, then we’re painting her kitchen blue. Maybe if we’re done early evening I’ll blow my cover a day early and come over and ask if anyone wants to go to the movies or something.

Thursday is Jacob’s bday party, so I think the whole day is mostly that. No movie time for me. suck. But here’s a funny bit from me and michelle’s phone conversation last night: (it took place after Michelle complained that Joe’s like a little kid; everything she cleans up for the party is messy again 10 minutes later)

Me – “I can help you clean up around the house for Jacob’s party.”
(pause)
Michelle – “Really?”
(another pause)
Me – “NO, ASSHOLE! I’m on vacation! I’m not cleaning your damn house!!!!”
(both of us laughing)

Friday I’m open til around 7ish, when we’re going out to Sing Sing to drink and be stupid.

The biggest chunk I’ll get with you guys is Saturday – I think we’re all going to the swap meet. Then there’s all kinds of free time all day, and at night (around 7 or 8) Michelle and I are going out to ESPN Zone at Downtown Disney to see Crystal get drunk and make more of an ass of herself than she already is for her birthday.

I was totally dumb about getting my flight for Sunday morning – I forgot the next day was Memorial Day, meaning no werky-jerky, and also meaning it didn’t matter what time I got back to Oshkosh on Sunday night. So I got an early flight out of LAX so I’d get back to ChickAGo with plenty of time to breeze through Ikea before making the 3 hour tour back to the OK. I finally realized this mistake early last week, and called Southwest Airlines to change my flight time. To leave Cali at 3pm instead of 7am that day would cost an additional $282. That’s 282 dollars on top of the 175 I already gave them. So, unfortunately for me I gotta be at the port of air at 5am on Sunday. Suck. Here’s to better planning next time.

The thing that really sucks is A) Jacob’s birthday falls while y’all are still in school, which robs us of during the day hangout time and B) there’s a limited number of vacation days to be had, and if I want to come out again later in the year I can’t use them all now. I miss college, when summer vacation was a full 3 months. But it will be good times, mark my words. And you have to hurry up and turn 21 so we can go out and be drunk and stupid together. By the time you're 21 I should be moved back to the homeland again, I hope.

I can’t believe it’s quarter to 10 already. I was up at like 8.

In other rad-ass news, the White Stripes are coming to Milwaukee on July 5. Be there or be dumb.

And someday my beloved Offspring will release their new cd and go on tour. *sigh*

So that’s it – I’m saving the best Cali song ever for Tuesday’s blog. How's that for a cliffhanger? Come back and check it out or I’ll find you and kill you. The end.

P.S. - you have GOT to go watch all the shorts here! Especially all the Teen Girl Squad episodes and the commercial for marshmallows!!

Oooof. (if you’re out there saying oofta I can hear you and I’m going to punch you in the damn head. Just let it be oof, fuckers!) Welcome back. Here’s the songs I should’ve put up over the last four days:

Tuesday: “Santa Monica” by Everclear
Wednesday: “California” by Kid Rock
Thursday: “Inside Out” by Eve 6
Friday: “So Cal Loco” by Sprung Monkey

And, without further ado, today’s California-y musical selection:

“Wasted and Ready” by Ben Kweller

Force field super shield AA.
Junior high love affair is OK.
Jump on the big wagon cause I'm So Cal.
I'm big in every way. I'm running as fast as I can.

She goes above and beyond her call of duty.
She is a slut but X thinks it's sexy.
Sex reminds her of eating spaghetti.
I am wasted but I'm ready.

If you wanna move it so,
why don't you make it go.
Prove to everybody who doesn't understand.
All the nights, all the fights. You are out of sight.
Some say more with their hand. I'm running as fast as I can.

She goes above and beyond her call of duty.
She is a slut but X thinks it's sexy.
Sex reminds her of eating spaghetti.
I am wasted but I'm ready.

I am wasted but I'm ready. I am wasted but I'm ready.
Running as fast as I can. Running as fast as I can.

Why am I dealing with this feeling?
I'm maxed out like a credit card.
I'll continue to be my worst enemy.
It's easy but it seems so hard.
You're near but you seem so far.

She goes above and beyond her call of duty.
She is a slut but X thinks it's sexy.
Sex reminds her of eating spaghetti.
I am wasted but I'm ready.
(repeat)

I am wasted but I'm ready.
Running as fast as I can.

************************************

Speaking of running as fast as I can, I haven't been to the Y in over a week for cuz I've been too drained after work. Bwahaahhahaha.

So this week, to say the least, has been possibly the most work-intensive crazy shit I’ve ever experienced in my ten year work history. More work-filled than working 2 crappy jobs outta college to pay rent. But, insert happy relaxed sigh here, it’s over, almost all my paperwork is out, and NYC bosses are really happy with my work.

And eating sushi followed by looking at shoes, sitting around a fire while dozing off from time to time, and having a couple drinks really did a lot to bring me down from the insane stress this week was full of.

Four more days til vacation!!! I’m actually starting it a day early – after work on Tuesday I’m gonna come home, pack my shit in the car, and head down to Chicago to wander around and entertain myself before sleeping at the airport. That’s what airports are for, really. If one of you splendid human beings could be so kind as to record the season finale of 24, there’s a special OC souvenir in it for ya. So lemme know beforehand which one of you will do it for me.

But the time I have in Chicago will be short and most likely after stuff closes, so if there’s a shopping trip down there soon, count me in! (even if I do get to hang in Chicago for more than a couple of hours this weekend I’d still want to go again. I like the big cities, dude.)

And I’m not really all that upset the Lakers didn’t move on to the finals. Hi, they were the champs for 3 years straight, and they made it to the playoffs again this year. Oh well, what the hell, right? Now I can feel much less conflicted in cheering for Mike Bibby when the Kings play, because they won’t be up against my favorite team.

Oh, yo, Danielle, I’m most likely gonna see the new Matrix this afternoon – time permitting maybe a group of us can go check it out when I’m back? The other thing is, I haven’t seen ya in like five months – I really don’t want to spend what little time we’ve got sitting in silence at a movie theater.

And I’m making you a Lehman Chicks With No Hair Club card today. Brittanie may feel left out, being the only Lehman chick with hair that looks good longer, so maybe I’ll make her a Only Lehman Chick With Cool Long Hair Award or something.

So I’m out – there’s bills to pay, cats to make out with, and movies to see. In that order. We now return you to your weekend, already in progress.

so i'm finally leaving work for the day and unfortunately for my social life i am completely beat. the only thing to fix my pounding head is tasty leftover fish, that 70s show's season finale, and bed. in that order.

i swear i'm coming to the bar friday, and there better be people just dying to see the new matrix this weekend.

'night, mofos.

oh yeah, and i left work at 7pm today.

oh how i love the end of the season crunch.

you get no song tonight.

why? because it's 9pm, and i've been back at work for a half hour.

“The Little Old Lady from Pasadena” by Jan and Dean

It's the little old lady from Pasadena...

The little old lady from Pasadena (Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!)
Has a pretty little flowerbed of white gardenias (Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!)
But parked in a rickety old garage,
Is a brand-new, shiny red, super-stock Dodge!
And everybody's saying that there's nobody meaner,
Than the little old lady from Pasadena

She drives real fast and she drives real hard;
She's the terror of Colorado Boulevard
It's the little old lady from Pasadena...
If you see her on the street, don't try to "choose" her (Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!)
You might try to "go" her, but you'll never lose her! (Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!)

Well, she's gonna get a ticket now, sooner or later
'Cause she can't keep her foot off the accelerator!
And everybody's saying that there's nobody meaner,
Than the little old lady from Pasadena

She drives real fast and she drives real hard;
She's the terror of Colorado Boulevard
It's the little old lady from Pasadena...

Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!
Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!

The guys come to race her from miles around,
But she'll give 'em a length, then she'll shut 'em down
And everybody's saying that there's nobody meaner,
Than the little old lady from Pasadena

She drives real fast and she drives real hard;
She's the terror of Colorado Boulevard
It's the little old lady from Pasadena...

Go granny, go granny, go granny, go! Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!
Go granny, go granny, go granny, go! Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!
Go granny, go granny, go granny, go! Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!
Go granny, go granny, go granny, go! Go granny, go granny, go granny, go!
Go granny, go granny, go granny...(fade)

******************************************************

Ahhhhh, repetition. I love you.

Here are some open letters to various people:

To Michelle: Goddamit, it’s been over two months. Give me something new to read. I like my father’s chicken, asshole.

To Danielle: You get considerably more than our other sister, for a couple of reasons. Number 1: bra. Number 2: horny. Number 3: family jewels.

Those weren’t reasons, they were Simpsons references. But you actually write, so you get writing back. That’s how these things work. Plus, you joined the Lehman-chicks-with-no-hair-club. For that you get a burrito. And your membership card will be in the mail this weekend.

I cannot freakin wait for these movies, in this order: new Matrix, new Seth Green movie, Down With Love, and whatever else cool is coming out that I forgot because my brain is officially fried.

And I have to disagree with you on something. There definitely is a pop-punk genre; Blink 182 and NFG are the most perfect examples out there. Pop punk is in it’s most basic form sucky-but-catchy punk for people who like Britney Spears. Blink 182 used to be more punk, I swear. Then they decided they like being lame. Or maybe they don’t like it, and just can’t do anything about it. Whatever the reason, they do suck now. We are in agreement over that.

All is forgiven with the whole other-sibling-figuring-out-my-insidious-plan-to-visit-the-homeland-and-use-an-obscene-amount-of-hyphens because there’s a new KROQ sticker to be put on my car soon. Thank you.
Someday the world won’t be so topsy turvy and they’ll open a Wienerschnitzel out here.

And thank god Titus is coming to dvd. Who else out there loved that show? Come on, you know you did.

To Wienerschnitzel, In and Out Burgers, Rubios, Wahoo’s, Del Taco, and Jack in the Box: consider opening a location in Oshkosh or Appleton, Wi. No seriously. Do it. Or else. Or else I will cry. A lot. And then I’ll drown my sorrows in ketchup.

To Maria: interesting fact about the Olive Garden – they are by law required to hire the hottest waiters in existence. It’s true. Or at least it holds true for both the Huntington Beach, CA and Appleton, WI locations. I’m waiting to hear your opinion of the northern CA location you were at.

To Kat: I’m damn jealous. Do the stars that did the voices go to the wrap party? Probably not, but that’d be pretty sweet all the same.

To Jen: Let’s invite Whitney Housten to prom. If we write a beautiful enough letter she won’t be able to resist. Then when she shows up we can beat her over the head with our heels. I hear it relieves work-related stress.

To My Mom (even though she will never ever read this because she never uses the uberweb): I know that you really went to that charity “Help Blind People” walk because it was a dog-walking event and you wanted to show off your dog and had friends from work that were going with their dogs and you were also hoping to meet a nice man who loves and has dogs, but that you told me you were walking for me and my eye was sweet anyways.

To Seth Green: call me.

"Learn to Swim" by Tool

Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this
Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of
Freaks
Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any fucking time. Any fucking day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona bay.
Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car.
It's a
Bullshit three ring circus sideshow of
Freaks
Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call LA
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any fucking time. Any fucking day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona bay.
Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by faultlines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cuz
I sure could use a vacation from this
Silly shit, stupid shit...
One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied.
Learn to swim.
Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's comin' round to put it back the way it ought to be.
Learn to swim.
Fuck L Ron Hubbard and
Fuck all his clones.
Fuck all those gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
Learn to swim.
Fuck retro anything.
Fuck your tattoos.
Fuck all you junkies and
Fuck your short memory.
Learn to swim.
Fuck smiley glad-hands
With hidden agendas.
Fuck these dysfunctional,
Insecure actresses.
Learn to swim.
Cuz I'm praying for rain
And I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom please flush it all away.
I wanna watch it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.
Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.
I wanna see it all come down.

*****************************************

Ah, nothing like a bright happy Tool song about the demise of the homeland to brighten up a rainy Sunday morning.

My mom has no idea I'm coming back in a week and a half. She asked me this morning if there was any way I could make it back for the Haileymonster's birthday in August because we're gonna do some family-type vacation in San Diego and I should try to make it. I almost broke down and told her about being there for Jacob's bday, but fortunately she's not one of the people I can't keep secrets from.

I'll tell you a little something funny - I'm at work, trying to get started on the massive amounts of paperwork I've got to do, and I'm finding myself doing anything but work. Like blogging.

So I should get back to it.

So I'm really working now.

Later gators. I'm really working now.

For real.

Everybody's working for the weekend. And then the weekend comes and they work during it, too.

"California Dreamin” by The Mamas and The Papas

All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray
I've been for a walk on a winter's day
I'd be safe and warm if I was in L.A.
California dreamin' on such a winter's day

Stopped in to a church I passed along the way
Well I got down on my knees and I pretend to pray
You know the preacher liked the cold
He knows I'm gonna stay
California dreamin' on such a winter's day

**Flute Solo**

All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray
I've been for a walk on a winter's day
If I didn't tell her I could leave today

California dreamin' on such a winter's day
California dreamin' on such a winter's day
California dreamin' on such a winter's day

**************************************************

I gots no time for this today; my fridge contains only condiments and that needs to change STAT! If you want more to read, go check out serialdeviant.org(y) – it’s funny shit and gave Maria the Penis Pump Award!

And yesterday’s song is “Californication” by the not-so-Red Hot Chili Peppers.

And bossman’s goodbye party was crazy fun. And so was biking at 11pm.

And I start lots of sentences with and. And I’m fine with that.

And here’s another tshirt I did, which wasn't traced! Woo! (not like psychobutt woo, just plain 'ol ordinary woo!)

Go Lakers! RAINBOW BOOK!!!

“California Girls” by Oingo Boingo

Now Pluto girls are neat but you know they`ll
eat you up alive
Although they`re nice to know when it`s a thousand below
it isn`t easy to survive
And Neptune girls are great for dancing
with a dozen arms and legs
They really hold you tight and they can boogie all night
but it`s so hard to kiss three heads

[Chorus]
I wish they all could be California girls
I wish they all could be California girls

Now Martian girls are really pretty
with complexions bright and green
But nothing can surpass an andromeda lass
I think their pointed heads are keen
And Saturn girls are really funny they can
make you laugh to death
With methane clouds alas combined with hydrogen gas
why it`s a chore to take a breath

[Chorus]
I wish they all could be California girls
I wish they all could be California girls

[guitar solo]

[Chorus]
I wish they all could be California girls
I wish they all could be California girls (etc. etc.)

[Chours II] - girls- girls- girls- girls -I need
girls -girls- girls- girls - I need... (etc. etc.)

[Chorus III]- Calif--ornia Calif--ornia Calif-- ornia
Calif--ornia Calif--ornia Calif-- ornia

**************************************

Unlike every other Cali song I’ve posted I’ve never actually heard this one; I was looking for the lyrics to the Beach Boys’ “California Girls” when I happened upon it. So yesterday’s song is the Beach Boys’ one.

It’s been a great day. Things are looking freakishly on-track as far as all my artwork getting done and out the door by next Friday, and there was an ultra-long group lunch for bossman’s last day. It was Tumbleweed’s fault, I swear. The wait staff royally sucked ass to put it mildly, and we were there for over an hour before our orders actually came out. By the time lunch was served I had actually passed the point of being hungry and kind of had to fight to stomach anything.

Two words for you to describe what’s on tv right now: “I wash myself with a rag on a stick.”

So we got back to work late, blah blah blah. Checked out the employee garment sale after work, found a couple of great accessories including a sweetass something for an upcoming birthday…

Tonight’s just been all kinds of cool – painted a silly going-away present for bossman, had a freakishly okay phone conversation with my mom, ate some dinner, and finished the skirt part of my prom dress. No matter how hard I try to follow all of the sewing rules, Renegade Sewing always wins in the end… When hemming a dressy circley skirt you have to do an ease stitch near the end of the skirt, then press the hem, then sew some hem tape to hold the ease stitch in place, then do the hemming stitch.

Renegade Sewing says fuck all that, who’s gonna be studying how properly I did the hemline? I folded the end of the skirt over twice, pressed it in place, and did one stitch. Infinitely faster. I think some day Michelle and I will publish a book proclaiming all of the wonders of the Renegade Sewing techniques, which is something we came up with when we took a sewing class together a little over a year ago.

Got the following in my email tonight – one more reason it sucks to not be in California. If you are in the SoCal area and have access to transportation to the L.A. area, I suggest you take advantage of this because Orlando Jones is a damn funny guy:

**************************************

Orlando Jones, former star of Madtv, the make 7-Up yours ad campaign, Evolution, Office Space, and a number of other films will begin taping his new definitive late night, urban talk show at the end of May. The show will feature the biggest celebrities and musicians and will set itself apart from other late night talk shows with Orlando's own unique style of humor and authenticity. To reserve priority seating for the show please visit our web site at www.ocatv.com and click on the Orlando Jones logo.

Thank you and prepare to laugh.

Sincerely,
On-Camera Audiences

**************************************

So yeah. Suck. I’m not sure what’s going down tomorrow night – bossman’s happy hour is at Oblio’s at 5, and I know there’s talk of going to see seX-Men 2 (which I would totally love to see again so if you’re planning it please call me or something and lemme know what’s up) and I’m not entirely sure how late I’m staying out for cuz I have to get up damn hell ass early again on Saturday to actually get my car fixed instead of bitching about it. Plop. This week went by insanely fast.

Later, mofos.

What can I say? I do whatever my little sister tells me to. Go read her blog for an explanation of why this is a Cali song.

“Story of My Life” by Social Distortion

High school seemed like such a blur,
I didn't have much interest in sports or school elections.
And in class I dreamed all day,
Of a rock 'n' roll weekend

And the girl in the front of the room,
So close yet so far y'know she never seemed to notice
That this silly schoolboy crush
Wasn't just pretend.

[Chorus:]
Life goes by so fast
You only want to do what you think is right.
Close your eyes and then it's past;
Story of my life

And I went down my old neighborhood
The faces have all changed there's no one left to talk to
And the pool hall I loved as a kid
Is now a Seven Eleven

I went downtown to look for a job
I had no training, no experience to speak of.
I looked at the holes in my jeans
And turned and headed back.

[Chorus]

Good times come and good times go,
I only wish the good times would last a little longer.
I think about the good times we had
And why they had to end.

So I sit at the edge of my bed
I strum my guitar and I sing an outlaw love song.
Wonerin' 'bout what you're doin' now
And when you're comin' back.

****************************************

It is so damn funny that Danielle brought up Seth Green. (I swear we share a brain.) Y’all know I have quite possibly the most whacked out dreams ever. Just before the alarm went off this morning I don’t remember everything about what was going on, but in my dream I met Seth and we started going out and he was an amazingly good kisser and somehow we ended up on some submarine-cruise-thing for rich people, with the both of us working together to thwart an evil plan that involved making the submarine start attacking other submarines from other countries, sending the world to war.

I say it was most likely influenced by 24.

That’s it, I’m beat.

I lie, Family Guy’s on and my boyfriend does one of the voices. *swoon*

p.s. - Danielle, I saw Knockaround Guys in the theater last October or November or something. It was sweet.

Written 5/5/03, 10:30pm and published today because Blogger is an ass.

“Zoot Suit Riot” by Cherry Poppin’ Daddies

Who's that whisperin' in the trees?
It's two sailors and they're on leave
Pipes and chains and swingin' hands
Who's your daddy? Yes I am

Fat cat came to play
Now he can't run fast enough
You'd best stay away
When the pushers come to shove

Zoot suit riot
throw back a bottle of beer
Zoot suit riot
Pull a comb through your coal black hair

(repeat chorus)

Blow Daddy!

A whipped up jitterbuggin' brown eyed man
A stray cat frontin' up an eight-piece band
Cut me Sammy and you'll understand
In my veins hot music ran

You got me in a sway
and I want to swing you done
Now you sailors know
Where your women come for love

(chorus)

You're in a Zoot suit riot
You're in a Zoot suit riot
You're in a Zoot suit riot

(random gibberish)

Oh you got me in a sway
and I want to swing you done
Now you sailors know
Where your women come for love

(chorus 2x)

You're in a Zoot suit riot
You're in a Zoot suit riot
You're in a Zoot suit riot

*********************************

Donde son mis pantalones?!?!
Donde esta banyo?
Tu welays como los nalgus de un elephante!!!
Voolay voo cooshay avec moi, c’est swah!

El Happy-o Cinco de Mayo to you! I am a master of the Spanish language! I just need help with some of the spelling sometimes! Wheeeeee!

Jen and I celebrated Cinco de Mayo with some authentic Mexican cuisine purchased at Taco Bell, and hot damn was it something something muy bueno!


And  I skipped yesterday’s song. Get off my back! Since the only way to get the lyrics would be to transcribe them myself from the cd I have, yesterday’s song is “Catalina” by Spluff Katunga. (don’t even bother looking for the lyrics online, it was a band made up of SCAD kids back when I was in college. Very good stuff, but apparently not around anymore.)

Yesterday was all kinds of great. I love me some brats. Every night, sometimes twice.

Steph’s prom dress is gorgeous, and mine’s coming along really good. It’s possibly the best sewing I’ve ever done. Wheeee! So all I have to do to the skirt part is hem it and sew on a hook and eye and POW! (penis!) It’s done! Then there’s the top, which will take considerably more time. My older sister’s considering coming to prom, but it’s still up in the air because fares are higher in June. But here’s hoping.

I wish they could crack a window or something at the gym. The stank-ass body odor stench that is a constant there is too much.

It’s fun and sometimes (note: not always) tasty to create weird crazy new dishes by mixing together 3 different bowls of leftovers from the fridge for dinner. Tonight it was a concoction of noodles, chicken noodle soup, and broccoli. I don’t really recommend it, because although it was edible it’s nowhere near as good as my Mountain Dew, mint chocolate chip ice cream and orange juice float. (it’s true what they say - necessity is the mother of invention; Savannah is really damn hot in August and I didn’t have any root beer or vanilla ice cream. And then I figured what the hell, and threw in some OJ. So there you go.)

Worked on the Great Photo Album Project of 2003 some more tonight. It’s time for a new photo album already. I’ve filled up 2 big ones and 2 little ones since starting in January. Which isn’t really as bad as it sounds – that’s all of the pics I’ve taken since I got a camera back in grade school. I got up to the pics from my sister’s baby shower last April tonight and looking at those reminded me of something. Last summer a bunch of us went to Sing Sing; one of the piano players called our friend Lori (the rocket scientist) “effervescent”. It struck me as the simplest most perfect word to describe her. That word popped into my head again as I looked at her hamming it up at the shower.

It’s a little creepy how perfect the timing is on filling up the photo albums. The first big photo album ends at the end of college when I moved back to California. This next photo album ends at the point where I moved to Wisconsin. It’s just odd. But convenient.

so real quick, because i'm at work -

i watched the last episode of the man show last night to calm down from the freakishly insane stress-inducing season finale for alias, and i was sad when they did their last toast. one of the craziest things i've ever done was to go to their trampoline girl cattle call in the dress i wore to my college graduation and jump on the man show trampoline in front of a hundred guys.

also, there was room on the tape for a little bit of the man show rerun that comedy central had on next, and it showed a clip of adam and jimmy on the radio with kevin and bean at kroq.

*sigh*

“April 29, 1992” by Sublime

(I don't know if you can, but can you get an owner for Ons, that's O-N-S,Junior Market, the address is 1934 East Anaheim, all the windows are busted out, and it's like a free-for-all in here and uh the owner should at least come down here and see if he can secure his business, if he wants to... )

April 26th, 1992,
there was a riot on the streets,
tell me where were you?
You were sittin' home watchin' your TV,
while I was paticipatin' in some anarchy.

First spot we hit it was my liqour store.
I finally got all that alcohol I can't afford.
With red lights flashin' time to retire,
And then we turned that liquor store into a structure fire.

Next stop we hit it was the music shop,
It only took one brick to make that window drop.
Finally we got our own p.a.
Where do you think I got this guitar that you're hearing today?
Hey!

(call fire, respond mobil station. Alamidos in Anaheim, its uhh flamin up good. 10-4 Alamidos in Anaheim)

Never doin no time

When we returned to the pad to unload everything,
It dawned on me that I need new home furnishings.
So once again we filled the van until it was full,
since that day my livin' room's been more comfortable.

Cause everybody in the hood has had it up to here,
It's getting harder and harder and harder each and every year.

Some kids went in a store with thier mother,
I saw her when she came out she was gettin' some Pampers.

They said it was for the black man,
they said it was for the mexican,
and not for the white man.

But if you look at the streets it wasn't about Rodney King,
It's bout this fucked up situation and these fucked up police.
It's about coming up and staying on top
and screamin' 187 on a mother fuckin' cop.
It's not written on the paper it's on the wall.
National guard??!
Smoke from all around,

bo! bo! bo!

(units, units be advised there is an attempt 211 to arrest now at 938 temple, 938 temple... 30 subjects with bags.. tryin to get inside the cb's house)

as long as I'm alive, I'mma live illegal

Let it burn, wanna let it burn,
wanna let it burn, wanna wanna let it burn

(I'm feelin' Sad and Blue)

Riots on the streets of Miami,
oh, Riots on the streets of Chicago,
oh, on the streets of Long Beach,
mmm, and San Francisco (Boise Idaho),
Riots on the streets of Kansas City
(Salt Lake, Huntington Beach, CA),
Tuscalusa Alabama (Arcada Compton Mischigan),
Cleveland Ohio,
Fountain Valley (Texas, Barstow - Let's do this every year),
Paramount, Victorville (Twice a Year),
Eugene OR, Eureka CA (Let it burn, let it burn),
Hesperia (Oh, ya let it burn, wont'cha wont'cha let it burn),
Santa Barbara, Nevada, (let it burn)
Phoenix Arizona,
San Diego, Lakeland Florida, (let it burn)
fuckin... 29 Palms (wontcha let it burn)

(any units assist 334 willow, structure fire, and numerous subjects looting

10-15 to get rid of this looter..

10-4)

****************************************

I know it’s been a couple of days – it’s not because I’m trying to get out of thinking of lyrics. Because I can’t find the lyrics anywhere anyways, the songs for the past two days are “El Caminos in the West” by Grandaddy and “Santa Cruz (you’re not that far)” by the Thrills. So there.

This will possibly be the longest post IN THE WORLD!!!! (yes, you should read this sentence out loud and shout those caps while moving your arms in a big circle, thus symbolizing the planet earth) This is what happens when I take a couple of days off to unplug and just chill.

First off – it is always very surreal and/or scream-inducing to see a friend’s name listed in movie credits. Katherine Evans, you’re my hero. I laughed out loud at the finger shot in X2 because I knew it was your work that made that particular digit so easy to see. When I was watching for your name in the credits the music kept getting more and more dramatic/suspenseful, and it was seriously stressing me out; there’s so many names running by I almost thought I’d missed it. But then I saw your company’s name come up, and then there was your name and there was me, standing and cheering like a complete ass. Congrats, girl!

It’s 8am and with the past couple of days I’ve had I seriously should still be sleeping.

Thursday night I stopped at the Mart of Wal on my way home after work and while I was there my sister Michelle called. So I made way for the furniture dept., plopped my ass down on one of their couches, and talked to her for a half hour. It was hilarious how many dirty looks I got from customers and employees alike.

I was up ‘til 12:30am because the Laker game was on; I wanted to go to bed but they are just so much fun to watch. I hope it's the same two teams in the end again this year, because as much as I love watching my Lakers, this guy is enough to make me root for a different Cali team. (he kind of reminds me of a very tattooed Dave Attell.) So while I was watching the game I was working on the prom dress. And the combination of basketball and sewing always feels very odd.

I’m not a huge sports fan, all of you know this. They’re totally fun to watch, but I’m not really into keeping up with all the teams, stats, any of that. There’s hardly any teams that I care anything about and the whole game-watching thing has always been more of a I-just-like-hanging-out thing for me. Which makes me actually going out of my way to turn on a basketball game to watch by myself until past my work-week bedtime a little odd. It’s one of those things that I picked up while dating someone. There’s chameleon girls who take this to a scary level, basically absorbing everything about their new guy to the point where you can’t even recognize them anymore. A girl I know back home is like that. It sounds like this: “Now I’m a punk!” “Now I’m a raver!” “Now I’m straightedge!” “Now I’m heavy metal chick!” A safe level of this is trying out things that the other person likes just to see if maybe you’ve been missing out on something, without compromising what you’re all about. I dated this guy Mike a little over a year ago (yes, he was the paramedic/surfer guy who I had this conversation with: me - “why do you have binoculars in your car?” mike – (very defensively) “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”) and he was a huge Lakers fan. I mean huge. Not to the point of having one of those stoopid flags on his truck, but he totally dug them. So of course I ended up watching some games. And I was hooked. Some of the stuff you try when you date someone you discard when the whole thing’s over. Some things, like screaming at the tv in glee every time Kobe or Shaq dunks, are just too fun to stop.

So long story short (hahahahaha, not really) I went to bed way too late. And I woke up way too late. Had to go to work stinky. But no one said anything about it, so maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Robert’s shindig at Oblio’s was a hoot. A ton of people showed up, and it was just a great party. This woman came up to Derek while we were talking and she says hi to him, then looks at me and goes “you look really familiar.” Derek tells her I’m an artist at b’gosh. She says no, that’s not where she knows me from. The light of realization comes across her face and she asks “do you go to fit for life?”, which is the proper name for cheezyass-psychobutt aerobics. And she says she just cracks up watching me because I do my own things to make myself laugh. And it was just funny.

And then everyone started heading out to Fratello’s, and we meant to go there, really we did, but somehow Jen and I ended up watching Hugh Ja… I mean seX-Men 2 instead. A much better choice, I think. It was freaking awesome. I can’t wait to see it again. And hooray at the credits again. And have happy dreams about my boyfriend Hugh again.

Got up this morning, took the car in to get looked at to make sure there was no crazy damage from the incident on Thursday, and got extremely pissed off. The lights for my license plate are dead. That’s all that happened, and that couple of bucks the light bulbs will be isn’t even worth arguing over. But that’s not what made me angry. I also need new brakes/pads/rotors and a new boot/shaft thingie. Car-X is pretty fair with their pricing, and they quoted me like 500 bucks to fix it. Why can’t the brakes and everything else be crash-related?!?! Dammit!!!!

So now I’m all pissed, and smelly, and tired. If y’all know a good reasonably mechanic who can give me a quote, lemme know. I’d be much obliged.

p.s. for my sis: Danielle, that’s totally fucked up about that kid at the park. It’s weird and really sad when you see the tarp over the body thing. I saw one over a body at a car crash site on the freeway once, and it gave me chills.

And tell Jim to fuck off. He’s not the boss of you, and he eats poo. And possibly blows goats. All you gotta do is find proof.

18 days, mofo. Miss you much. Just like the Janet Jackson song. Except that song is way before your radio-listening time. And that you don’t dig on the Janet Jackson too much. And that’s fine, I’ll kill you either way.

p.p.s. for everyone: I hate to say that one of my guilty pleasures is the bitchfest that is Sorority Life on MTV, but it is.

p.p.p.s. –I was done writing like a half hour ago; I’ve just been arguing with my damn machine to get it on my blog. I really did start this at 8. I warned you it was a long post. But no, you wouldn’t listen.