So, today I was talking to a dear friend of mine from high school. We were friends in high school, but in adulthood grew to be much closer in that "it's always an unfinished conversation" way because we lead such similar lives.
(Side note: Dennis Leary is so freakin' hot. But we don't get Hulu in Canada, thanks for painfully reminding me of all the things we can't get up here with your sexy commercial.)
Anyway, this girl recently decided to get out of a relationship, or at least take an extended break. And when we were talking about why, she said the following, "I just looked at it, and I said to myself, 'Self, if this is where the independent part of my life ended, is this where I would want it to end?' And my self answered, 'No.'"
Now, when she says this, she isn't necessarily referring to the person, because she does adore the person. She's mostly referring to all the life situations in terms of where she'd have to live, how she'd have to live, what her life would have to look like, in order to be with this person. It's a wise decision. She knows in a couple of years she'd be even more frustrated with the things about that situation that make her crazy than she is now. Why prolong, she says? She's always been independently minded. She's wise. More people should be wise like her. But really, what I think is that more people should ask themselves that exact question before getting serious. "If my independent life ended here, would I be okay with this being where it ended?" It's such a wise question. I wish I could make everybody learn that question, ask it over and over again. It makes you face a harsh truth and really look at it. If you're brave enough to, which most people really aren't.
She's a lot wiser than I am, because these are the kinds of conversations I'm having about my relationships right now. They sound a lot like this.
Clifford So, how are things with The Gangster and The Youngin?
Me Good. Excellent, really. But you wanna know what gets on my nerves so badly about both of them?
Clifford Do I? Wait, yes. I do.
Me Effing Euro fashion.
Clifford OH HA! Like, you're out with them and what you're thinking is "Man, I'd really like to take this guy to Abercrombie and Fitch and dress him like a good American boy?"
Me So.Yes.
However, I can confidently say that if my independent life were to end today, I would not be comfortable with it ending with a gangster or somebody a decade younger than I am. So that takes a lot of pressure off.
ps - First person who says, "In the right situation, your independent life wouldn't have to end" gets a backslap. Then you would be Madonna, and she's not anybody's relationship model.
Crazy is a State of Mind ... that most men in their late thirties have.
Recently, I was talking to somebody who's dating a 26 year old girl. He was complaining about how she's erratic, insecure, unprepared for a relationship, etc. To which I said:
"This has nothing to do with Jen as a person, this is just about Jen being 26. Twenty-six year old girls are crazy. I was. Every girl I know was pretty crazy at that age. You just have to accept it and deal."
Which I think to be true. I know very few females who were not insane to a certain degree during their mid-twenties. That's a time when, as a female, you're really deciding how you're going to define yourself as a woman, how much how society has defined women is going to impact you, how to be "in a relationship" and "independent" at the same time, how to keep your own identity while being good in a relationship, how to love your body, how to adjust to how your body is starting to change, how to deal with the glass ceiling, all those things. In that age range, it's much more simple for men to know who they are. The expectations are generally more streamlined for men. The road is straighter. So, I write this behavior of my friend's girlfriend off to "All girls are crazy in their mid twenties. It makes it hard on men. It is what it is."
DON'T YOU WORRY, MEN, WE GET WHAT WE GAVE WHEN YOU HIT THE 36 TO 42 AGE RANGE.
I mean, it's true. It's totally okay to say women are crazy in their mid-twenties, because men clearly go crazy in that late thirties, early forties range. It sounds something like this:
"Am I still a boy? I can't be a boy because I'm a man. Am I enough of a man? Am I a provider? Am I manly enough? But am I enough of a man while still being a *sensitive* man? Do people know I'm sensitive, or do I come off like an asshole? What if I am an asshole? Or what if I'm too sensitive? Do I have a big, fat gut? Is it okay that I have a big fat gut because I'm not twenty-one anymore? OH MY GOD, I'M NOT TWENTY-ONE ANYMORE. Does that fact that I'm not twenty-one any more mean that I should not spend all my time playing softball and drinking Bud/going to punk shows/playing video games with my same friends from high school and college? But if I stop doing that, do I give up my youth? Am I old if I have a kid? What if having a kid is the only way to hold onto my youth? Should I want a kid? What if I'm not really enough of a man if I don't have a kid? Should I learn to rock climb? Would I be less fat if I didn't sit on the couch watching sports and drinking beer? But watching sports and drinking beer is what makes me a MAN. But what if that's not really what a man is? OH MY GOD, I HAVE NO IDEA WHO I AM. Are drum circles gay? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING WITH MY LIFE????
...Fuck it. I'm going to the strip club."
Listen, men who are dating or have survived a mid-twenties female, try dealing with somebody going through *that* nonsense above. I mean, it's just as bad as any time you've had to deal with some girl in her twenties saying "I just need some time to figure out what I want."
This is why I went for such a long time dating men in the age-inappropriate category. And I am *seriously* considering returning to that because I don't have time for your journey of self-discovery. That's not true, I have all the time in the world. What I don't have is the patience for your journey of self-discovery. Or your CRAZY ASS SELF REFLECTIVE SHIT. Buy a journal. Get a blog where you can spit that self-indulgent shit out all day long (I do). Watch some Oprah. Or some Dr. Phil. It's what women do in their mid-twenties and we all seem to end up fine our our early to mid-thirties. DO NOT JOIN A DRUM CIRCLE BECAUSE I'LL BE EMBARRASSED FOR YOU.
But if you do need to join a drum circle, you can use this handy resource.
Listen, it's fine. As gender, you've earned the right to go through your own "crazy phase." I'll be down the street on St. Catherine hanging out with the twenty-five year olds until you figure that shit out.
There has been a disturbance in the force of late. A shifting of something that, for so long, was as right as rain. Was understood. Was a safe haven of knowledge in an ever changing world.
And that shift, my friends, is that Jack Johnson has replaced Dave Mathews as the cd that men in their mid to late thirties play when they want to get laid.
I am thrown askew by this change.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Isn't it Marvin Gaye or Robin Thicke that those men play when they want to get laid?" No, no. This is what men play when they KNOW that they're going to get laid. There is a difference.
Now, the M.O. has switched. You are invited over to dinner, and afterwards, in an effort to show you how sensitive he is, your date puts on a Jack Johnson cd. This is followed by a statement like "I wish I could live more like Jack Johnson. He's so TUNED IN. He's so CONNECTED."
For YEARS, this routine played out with a Dave Matthews CD in the stereo. The line was like "Dave Matthews really understands the human experience" or "Dave Matthews really keeps it simple. Life should be that simple."
The force has shifted. And I am thrown askew by the new shift. Mostly because I dig Jack Johnson in a way that I never dug Dave Matthews, so I am more susceptable to this nonsense.
For the record, the "upsell" album if you're not biting on the sensitivity bit, which is meant to make you feel safe about getting naked, continues to be the John Mayer "Continuem" album. Often followed by this, "Yeah, I just don't understand how he could break up with Jen Anniston. She seems like such a sweet, truly nice girl."
Shut the hell up. Seriously. But at least that part I understand. Jack Johnson. The fabric is shifting. Just say it like this, "I want to listen to Judas Priest and make out. Cool?"
1. I am not a cliche...sort of. Somebody thought that she was really funny when she sent me this after I said that my psychic said that my jam for 2008 was "Unwritten." Right to hell with you, hooker. I mean that last sentence in an affectionate, "anything is possible" way.
2. I HAD been looking forward to a week of unemployment. How is it that my "to do" list is twice as long for this week? I know, I know. I'm getting PPG ready to leave in ToniK's capable hands for a month, I'm starting a consulting firm, I'm NOT IN ANYWAY READY to leave for Mongolia. Have I told you that I haven't even booked a flight home from Pennsylvania yet? My head hurts. It's 11am on a Sunday, and my head hurts already. And I probably have two full days of laundry to do. I should start that this evening.
3. FERRIS IN DA HOUSE. So, Ferris gets here Thursday for Pretty Kim's wedding. At noon. I want to say I'm going to drop him and his ladeeefriend on the Strip and come home and pack. I'm not sure if this is reality or not. But I know this ... when Ferris and I and the three fat cats are in Vegas together, we PAR-TAY.
4. A list of things that made me cry this week: Yeah, who knows. I was in crying mode this week. - Mark and Chelsea on "So You Think You Can Dance" - Katee & Joshua on "So You Think You Can Dance" - The episode of "Sex and the City" where Steve and Miranda break up - Last night's middle of the night phone message that I just can't return (sorry). You know, sometimes the people who make you feel the best are really the worst for you, and I hate that. - The car ride home from pottery when I started thinking about how I won't be in Vegas at this time next year, and this time of year is my favorite time in Vegas - The fact that I have to wait until September to see Erin - About 50 different incidents at work. Which is over Monday, so yeah! - The thought of two to three days worth of laundry.
Yes, I was having my pms week. But still...
5. But speaking of the above ... The worst thing is when one of those people who makes you feel really good but is ultimately not really good for you is one of those people you have some kind of crazy universal connection with. That's the worst, because then even though you know you need to separate out and you're doing all the right things like the no-contact rule and dating a lot so that you don't think about him and stuff like that, the universe is looking for any excuse to put you together. Like last night, you know? I got a text message in the middle of the night, and I was all thinking "I really kind of wish, even though I know it's not what I want, but if I'm being honest I wish that that were him" and then 45 minutes later he called. When that happens, it's really hard to look at your caller ID and be like "I cannot answer that no matter how much I may want to." It's never good to be at odds with what the universe wants. I'm not saying, I'm just saying. It makes it harder to do already very hard things.
Gentlemen, this one is for you. May you learn a lesson from the mishaps of Bobo, which is not so much his name as it is his cat's name, but it's the best I can do.
Where to start? Bobo and I casually dated back in the initial fall of a period of time I like to wistfully refer to as SMOS. SMOS was good times, but we can talk about how selfish things are often fun later. It didn't end very prettily, and we haven't really talked a lot since, though I do miss his energy. A couple of months ago, I get a kind of random text that reads something like, "Hey, this is Bobo. I don't know what you're going to do when you get this text, but I figured it was worth a shot. I finally cleaned up the mess I made. Wanna get a drink?"
I mean, what I was planning to do with that text was ignore it because I'm busy, but he's so cool that I didn't. I didn't ignore it, I mean.
So last week we decided to meet up for lunch.
Most of lunch is spent with my monopolizing the conversation my seemingly endless dialogue about having quit my job because, well, that's what I do these days. But towards the end, my curiosity and lack of discretion gets the better of me and I ask, "So, tell me about this this mess you made."
At which point eyes are rolled and sighs are released and hands are brought to head, and it is only the nicer part of me that resists saying "I could have TOLD you that this would end like this - girls who want to get that serious, that fast will ALWAYS be problems in the end." But I don't say it. Except that I know that he reads this blog so basically I am saying it, just not with a knowing smirk on my face while I eat a salad. So same thing, really. But, seriously, I could have TOLD you how this would go down.
Anyway, after the dramatic opening, this:
Bobo There's not even time to go into all of that. But I'll tell you, I'm about to tell you what I've learned. In thirty-nine years of living this is what I've learned.
Me This is your life lesson for me?
Bobo Yes. Here's what I've learned. There are three things you can count on in life. Death, taxes, and the fact that women will hear what they want to hear.
Me Women are crazy. You're just realizing this?
Bobo Yes, women are crazy, but more specifically, they only hear what they want to hear. I think that that's something you learn in your thirties.
Me Oh, right, because in your twenties, everything like that just falls into the general bucket of "women are crazy," but as you enter your thirties you start to be able to narrow it down to precise ways in which women are crazy, one of which is certainly that women only hear what they want to hear.
Bobo Yes.
Me And you're just realizing this now?
Bobo Well, remember, I was married during most of my early thirties, so I missed the part where most men are learning that women only hear what they want to hear.
Me I see. Well, I mean, I basically agree with you. Women hear what they want to. Now you know.
I mean, so there it is, gentlemen. Women only hear what they want to hear. Now you know. Or maybe you already knew that, in which case Bobo could have used your help. I'm not saying, I'm just saying.
Oh, and I could have warned you that that situation would end up like that. I'm JUST SAYING.
Who should read this entry: K-Rock, Shim Shim, A-Train, a certain girl in LA I know who is the master of the dirty text (yeah, you know who you are Princess K). And also a certain girl in Chicago who is supposed to be learning to talk dirty from me.
Person With Whom I Had Text Message Sex Last Night: Don't read this if you ever want to enjoy that activity again. Seriously. Just don't read it. Trust me.
Anyway...
So, as a little background info, I've had this long distance ... thing ... going on for a while now. It's not a SMOS violation (even though SMOS technically ended yesterday!). It's not exclusive. It's not even really defined, but it is a ... thing.
Okay, so media has advanced to the point where the big frontier is no longer cyber sex. Remember when cyber sex was soooo weird and we longed for the days of good old fashioned 900 numbers? Oh no, people, oh no. We have advanced to the point of being mobile while we fuck each other in a virtual imaginary world. We have moved on to text message sex.
And with it comes something totally unique to text message sex as a form of virtual sex: mobility. With phone sex, you may have to juggle that receiver between your shoulder and your ear, but the verbal nature of the act at least requires you to honor the privacy of being alone, usually in your bed. Unless you are a frat boy sharing the experience during rush. With cyber sex, you are by default tied to the location of your computer. But with text message sex -- ah, with text message sex, you can be doing ANYTHING while simultaneously having virtual sex. Think of the possibilities!
Or, don't think of them and I'm going to lay them out for you by telling you the story of my night last night.
So, last night as I was heading home, I get a dirty text from ... let's call him Boom. And I read it, and I smile, and I send back an equally dirty one and think I'm done for the night. And then there is another text with a prompt, and I'm like "Seriously? He wants us to get off via TEXT MESSAGE?" But, whatever, I was there with him anyway. So, you know, games are fun. But, mobility. That's not necessarily conducive to virtual sex, particularly if you have ADD like me. Here's how the night laid out.
Being Typed Into My Phone I just got out of the bath and I'm imagining rubbing my wet body up against you... Coming Out of My Mouth Hey! HEY! HEY! Can I get a sirloin burger, a super size diet coke and some jalapeno poppers? HEY?! Is anybody in there?
Being Typed Into My Phone Before we even make it to the bedroom, I slide down and put my mouth around your cock... Coming Out of My Mouth FUCKIT. That jalapeno popper is HOT. SHIT. FUCK. DAMMIT.
Being Typed Into My Phone I'm gently teasing you for a long time before I slide you all the way in...
Coming Out of My Mouth FUCKKKKK. THE GODDAMN CAT PEED ON THE CARPET AGAIN. FUCKING CHRIST. DAMMIT.
Hot, right? Makes me long for the good old normal days of fake fucking on the computer.
But the real issue is if you think of the future. Cell phones - Devil's curse. But they make anything possible at any time. Think about our society's obsession with porn. Then think about the future of iPhones in everybody's hands. Then imagine a future in which people just walk around all day with a dazed look on their face getting off via text message.
I always said my iPhone replaced my need for a man.
iPhones, Strippers, Counting Crows and Breakdowns: Friday Five!
1. True Tales of the iPhone & Strippers: How does the iPhone change your life? Like this. So last Sunday night, PPG had a party, and at the party there was supposed to be a stripper. And the specific type of stripper requested was "A Black girl, big on the top and big on the bottom." At 2am, I got a call from the clients that the stripper who had showed up was a small, Asian girl. So I had to get out of bed at 2am and head down to the strip to deal with swapping the girls out.
And when I get down there, I have to sit for half an hour while I'm waiting for my big-bodied Black stripper to arrive. And I'm bored. So I get out my iPhone.
I have this very dear friend Jen whom I love, love, love. Jen and I boxed together. Jen and I traveled to Budapest together and maybe next week I'll scan all of the wonderful photos of us at a fertility festival in Pesc or in a bathhouse in Budapest or recovering from a crazy birthday party we had in a place called Old Man's Pub. I love Jen, but a few years ago she moved to Russia to "do the good work" that she does. We still keep in touch. There are gaps, but then there are a flurry of emails and it's always more like resuming a conversation than starting a conversation.
So, I'm sitting there, miserable, waiting for the big-bodied Black stripper to arrive and I decide to check my email on my iPhone. Jen has emailed me a link to this - an article in the New York Times about her husband, who is also doing "the good work" as a lawyer in Russia. And because I am on my iPhone, I open the link and read the article in full glory-sized screen with amazing graphic resolution. And then because I am on my iPhone and it is the middle of the night here so the middle of the day in the Motherland, I can text and email with Jen real time for a little while, which we rarely get to do.
The iPhone. It brings me and my dear, dear friend in the Motherland closer.
2. Another Story of Vegas Party Planning: On Saturday, I also have to hustle my booty out of bed in order to deal with a limo "situation." The situation is as such: It's all very complicated. Because of the complicated system of "tips," kickbacks, payoffs, under the table money and such, what typically happens is that we meet up with the limo driver about 20 minutes before the client does to make sure that everybody was, is about to, or will be taken care of. Yes. This is my life.
Anyway, the limo driver that we're using on this particular night is not a limo driver that we've ever used before. He's in his fifties, originally from New York, a fun guy. We have a good time hanging out while waiting for the client and talking. We talk about the limo driver's daughters - who are, and this is important, MY AGE.
As the clients are coming out, I say to him, "Can we call you sometime if we need an extra driver?"
And he looks at me and says, "As pretty as you are, you can call me any time. How about dinner next week?"
Now, when you are female and you touch the "entertainment" industry in Vegas in any way, there is only one response you can give to this. It's to smile nicely and dodge the situation. Which I do.
And then...driving home. I have a breakdown. I call RJ and launch into the following:
"OH MY GOD - A FIFTY YEAR OLD JUST HIT ON ME. I DON'T MEAN HIT ON ME IN THE INAPPROPRIATE SMARMY WAY, I MEAN IN THE LEGITIMATE, HE THOUGHT IT WAS APPROPRIATE TO HIT ON ME KIND OF WAY. IS THIS MY FUTURE? AM I THIS OLD? ARE FIFTY YEAR OLDS GOING TO HIT ON ME? OH MY GAWD. MY YOUTH IS OVER."
I mean, ignoring the fact that I'm going out with a 27 year old who JUST TURNED 27 THIS WEEK. That was my reaction to that. I haven't been right since.
3. Speaking of Dating People Who Are Too Young for Me: You know you're going out with somebody too young for you when you say the following at their birthday dinner. "I know that you're too young to remember this, but Counting Crows was actually a pivotal band for me."
4. And...Go! Starts Now. I sadly watched last night as $1200 exited my checking accounts for air tickets to San Francisco, Austin and Pittsburgh. I had a twinge, but then I remembered how much fun I'm going to have on all of those trips. So, basically, I alternated between stress and excitement. That's pretty much my life right now.
5. Something Else to Look Forward to: Apparently, Captain Morgan and I are going to dress like slutty elves for Pookie's annual Christmas party. I'm going to see if I can convince Dana to join us. We'll see.
And...GO! A Friday Ten In Which I Give Up on the Rest of the Year
Ha! Do you like how I stopped the Africa updates right before the three single best days of the trip (lions, gorillas and zebras?). I actually have a rare 20 minutes of down time right now when I should be trying to clean out my inbox, but let's just update instead. There are many, many things going on right now.
1. I LOVE STRESS: I mean, I probably don't love the way that it ages me, but I do thrive on it. The good thing about the current levels of stress is that it comes at a time of year when I habitually get manic anyway. I'm averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night right now. You would think that with 20 hours of awake time a day I'd have time to answer people's emails or return phone calls or not bail on social engagements. Ha! Here's what I'm balancing right now:
- A stressful job transition that's also resulted in some bad mojo for some people who work/ed with me. So I'm basically working about 12 hours a day, on a good day. Literally, my day starts at 7:30am. Around 4pm, I go to the gym for a couple of hours, and then around 7pm I start working again. Usually until around midnight.
- November is NOT party season in Vegas, but we're determined to make our revenue goal, so finding people who want to party in Vegas during one of the months of the year when NOBODY parties in Vegas is hard.
- You know it - it's holiday season. I have a shopping list of 120 people plus a card list of about 300, and you know that the majority of that card list gets that custom, special letter that Pookie and I do together which is 3x the work of a card and 10x the expense of a card. And you also know that of that 120 people a lot of them get things that I make, and though I made 35 of something during the summer, that's still a lot to do. The good news is that I have "the spreadsheet" completed. The bad news is that I also have three months of late birthday presents that need to be sent out as well. Viva!
- I AM OUT OF SHAPE: Which means I'm running like a beast. I'm not sure how it happened. I was underweight before I left for Africa, but still in good running shape. I didn't gain weight in Africa, but I also didn't run. And then when I got back, I didn't get right back to running, and I ate a lot of pizza, but it wasn't all that out of control. But when I went for my first run back this week, I was sucking air at four miles. Not good.
- AND THEN I HAD A PANIC ATTACK ABOUT MY SCHEDULE. Literally, a breathing issue panic attack. I did my calendar, and I realized that between the time I got back from Africa and the week after New Year's, I had only two weekends where either I didn't have an out of town trip scheduled or I have people in town. One of those weekends is this weekend, and one is either the weekend of December 8th or December 17th, depending on which weekend I do "Holidays in LA." After Africa I had Halffington in town, then the eight million nieces PLUS Jess's bachelorette, this weekend is blissfully off. Then November: the first weekend Matty and Jess get married, the second weekend I am going to Vancouver, the third weekend there are LA girls in town, and the fourth weekend I'll be in New York for Thanksgiving. Then there is December: the first weekend I'll be in Texas for Paul and Kari's wedding, one of the next two weekends I'll go to LA, then I'll be home in Pittsburgh for the holidays, then I'll be in Arizona for New Year's. When I looked at that schedule, I had a panic attack. Because, if you're following, I have no down time during the week right now. There's nothing I'd want off that schedule though. So I'll just buckle down and make it happen.
Here's the most awesome thing about that schedule though. So the other day I was having lunch with this boy I really like (and who I think really likes me) and he said, "Yeah, I'm going to be out of town the next two weekends."
And I immediately made my pouty face like I was so offended that he wouldn't want to spend time with me so badly that he'd leave a weekend clear. And he looked at me like I was the world's biggest hypocrite and said, "We're both really busy people. That's how it is with people like us."
AND I TOTALLY CONTINUED TO MAKE MY POUTY FACE LIKE I WAS 100% IN THE RIGHT. Which is, you know, ha ha ha ha ha ha, because if the question had been reversed and he had asked me what my weekend plans look like in the near future, I would have been all like "Yeah, why don't you talk to me in January. That's when it looks like things clear up for me."
Awesome.
And so I am stressed. My plans this weekend involve locking my door, closing my curtains, turning off my personal phone (but leaving work phones on, sigh) and chilling out - even if chilling out means that I'm actually doing work, just doing it in the comfort of my (now clean!) home. There will be crockpot action. There will be outings to the gym. There will even be laundry (which I find peaceful and relaxing - the sound of the dryer running in the background while I look at spreadsheets). There will be reading. There will be holiday crafting. THERE WILL BE ZELDA. And by 7am on Monday morning I will be refreshed.
And by 10am on Monday morning I will be in exactly the same stressed out, maxed-out place I'm in right now!
Listen, this is me saying I love everybody, but anybody who knows me knows that I go dark in November and December, and this year will be worse because of additional factors. Don't hate. Just know that when I'm not emailing or calling, I'm wishing that I were. If you are on Facebook then you get more action from me. That's all I'm saying.
2. A Little Ditty for the Marketers: Yeah, sorry, this is only funny if you've ever run a marketing department before, but since a lot of you have...
Me So, you know, I would need the data on x as it compares to y in order to decide what I wanted to do with that situation.
Other Person Um, yeah, the only way to get that data is manually.
Me You mean, like, read it and enter it into a calculator?
Other Person Um, yeah.
Me But...but...it's housed in a database!
Other Person Yeah, but there's really no way to easily ... let me just get you a calculator.
Let me tell you, there's some automation about to happen here. I can't think of a LESS useful way to spend my time than manually transferring data.
3. A photo that makes my photos look lame: It's seriously like Mr. Holland's Opus in Pittsburgh. I'm not even joking. My little bro just out-ghetto'ed me. "Mr. J" wins. I don't even know what to do with this.
4. Car! Detailed! Yes, finally. For those of you who have been following the saga, a can of Pepsi exploded in my car earlier this summer. The car needed to be detailed before that, but after the can of Pepsi exploded, it REALLY needed to be detailed. You know how sometimes things make it on to your to do list and then just keep getting moved to the bottom because it's such a hassle?
Then a couple of months later, I accidentally left some batteries in the car during the high heat and they leaked. Then the car REALLY REALLY needed to be detailed. However, not so much, apparently, that it rallied my ass out to get it detailed.
Then LAST WEEK I was on my way to a meeting and I hadn't eaten yet so I tried to eat sushi in the car. And at a red light, I went to open the little packet of soy sauce and it exploded all over the inside of the car.
But you know what finally got me motivated to get the car detailed? My tags have been expired for OVER A MONTH NOW because I've been too lazy to get my smog check done. The last time my tags were expired I totally got pulled over for a moving violation and had to eat the other $150 fine for having expired tags. So I finally got my car into the Saturn dealership. Exciting!
And then today I mailed in the smog check and the tag registration and was so excited that those things could be moved off my to do list.
And then I got home and opened my mail, only to find out that my lack of paying attention had meant that my driver's license had expired and I forgot to renew it, so I'm now driving on a suspended license. HOT.
I am a HOT MESS people.
5. Can we talk about SMOS briefly? You know how every year around this time, when things start to get crazy busy in my world, I start this lecture about how "I REALLY need to do something to slow the pace of my life down?" And then I go into this whole inner turmoil about how I would benefit from slowing myself down, but my nature is to live fast and big and I'd hate to have missed out on any of the things I would have missed out on if I didn't live that way? Well, can I say that in many ways this year I failed to slow the pace of my life down (see the two month schedule above as Example A). However, SMOS has totally made me slow down at least a section of my life. I have the most lovely, wonderful, beautiful men in my life right now. And if I had been going at my normal pace, I'd be well ensconced in another relationship by now and would have missed out on a lot of wonderful things I've learned. So, I'm saying, SMOS is the best thing I've ever done for myself. I did have a little bout of "single insecurity" going on the other week. And Shimmy reminded me that that's the point. As she said, "You need to become secure in the insecurity." She is so zen.
Slowing my life down will, once again, be something about myself that I try to work on in 2008. The other one will be trying to be at my best even when I'm not motivated or not inspired, which is something I learned this year is a weakness of mine. That is all.
6. I went through a phase this week where... I couldn't stop lusting after Luda. Yep. Sure did. I mean, like, talking about how hot he was all day long to anybody that would listen. Then Pookie drunk IM'ed me, and he sent me a copy of "Sexy Motherfucker" by Prince. And then I couldn't decide who I thought was sexier. Here, ponder for yourself.
7. The best thing you won't hear on my public playlist this week. You won't hear it, because I can't find a copy to put on the playlist, but there's a 2 DISC cd set of mashups of Britney and/or Madonna songs that made it down the girl chain from Ang to Shimmy to me. All the mashups are good, but there are two I just leave on repeat and listen to over and over again. One is a mashup of Missy Elliot's "Pass That Dutch" with Madonna's "Holiday", and the other is a mashup of "Holiday" with D-Child's "Make Me Lose My Breath." AND THOSE TWO MASHUPS ARE SO GOOD. You should totally try to find them online somewhere if you can. I can't stop listening.
Also, why do we love D-Child? It's because of lyrics like this: "Ooh Two things I don't like when I'm trynna get my groove - Is a partner that meets me only halfway, and just can't prove - Take me out so deep when you know you can't swim- Need a lifeguard and I need protection- To put it on me deep in the right direction. Ooh You understand the facts that I'm trynna give to you- You movin' so slow like you just don't have a clue- Didn't momma teach you to give affection? Learn the difference from a man and an adolescent It ain't you boo, so get ta steppin'"
Secondly, here's a conversation Halff may not have wanted to be made public. He and I are in the car (unfortunately pre-detailing job) listening to said cd (disc 2!).
Halff These mashups are way better than the original Britney and Madonna songs.
Pause
Halff and I Simultaneously Except for "Holiday." That's a great song on its own.
What have we learned? Mash any song with "Holiday" and everything gets better.
8. Cat Blog! This is honestly how fat Sly is. This is how he's sitting: He has his back paws on one chair, his front paws on another chair and his HUGE GUT is actually hanging between the two chairs. I am a bad mom!
9. Because I need a number nine ... Listen, I'm going to come clean here. Because the Rockies are Ry's favorite team, I always put $5 on them to win the World Series at the beginning of the season as a show of faith to him. The odds at the beginning of the season were, like, 30 to 1. I'm sorry. I know so many of you are Red Sox fans, but mama wants a pair of $1300 snakeskin Versace shoes she saw the other week. Go Rockies!
10. And a playlist! When I get super stressed like this, the music sounds more like a nightclub. Why? That's so obvious. Because nightclubs are where I reduce stress. Here's what we're listening to in Jocelyn world right now.
"Do It Well" - J-Lo: OHMYGOD! How much do I LOVE the new J-Lo single WITH a breakdown from my boyfriend Luda? I've been warned that if I don't stop playing and dancing to this in the work environment there will be a boycott, but IT'S SO GOOD. I work to it, I do laundry to it, I run to it. It's the best thing EVER. Or at least recently. You can't even listen to this and then listen to "Gimme More" and take Britney even a little bit seriously. I LOVE J-LO.
"Lose My Breath" - D-Child, "Pass That Dutch" - Missy Elliot and "Holiday" - Madonna: Okay, I can't give you the mashup, but I can give you all three singles and you can imagine. And dance. You can imagine, and then you can dance.
"Sexy Motherfucker" - Prince: "In a word, it's you I want to do." Or, better yet, "I want to get to know you, tell me what you do, what you eat...I might cook for you."
"Sexy motherfuker, shaking that ass, shaking that ass."
"End of the Night" - Luda: I mean, I could have picked any song here. He sounds smooth and sexy on anything. That is all. If for no other reason, this song is on because of these lyrics: " By the end of the night you gon' be wantin to marry a nigga Cause I make 'em erupt like volcanoes, you just shake and you shiver Get 'em up, get down, turn around and put your face in the pillow Cut 'em up like Jason, just face it that boy Luda's a killer Half man, half gorilla, beatin all on my chest Pleasin all of your flesh, squeezin all on your breast Givin you reasons to rest, and ain't never say no to papi Wake 'em up like Folgers cause I fold 'em like origami Hey mami let's get it poppin like Orville Redenbacher The way you move once you started nothin could ever stop ya Sweeter than Betty Crocker, and I'm ready to belly flop ya Just mention today but for now I forever gotcha"
Yep.
"Great Pumpkin Waltz" - Vince, Guaralid: Okay, so you'll only get a snippet here, but I've been listening to the whole thing. You know how I love my Peanuts holiday dvds.
Oh, God, come on, that's awesome how I just transitioned from Luda rapping about dirty sex to Charlie Brown. Give me points!
Special Extra Bonus Item! So I can't sleep (shocker) so I log into Facebook because I notice that AshleyPooh has tagged a new photo of me. It is a photo of me and my niece Stephanie "recovering" on my couch the night after all of these photos were taken. Nice, Ashley. Thanks for bringing this picture to the public. I really think the comment I left Ashley on Facebook says it all, which is, "Why would you post this? I look like I just spent five days doing crack."
Which is also what I felt like because my body doesn't recover from staying out all night two nights in a row as quickly as it used to. But I have no pride, so I'll share.
An Africa Interlude: A Friday 10 In Which I Surely Cannot be Pregnant
What's sad about the intrusion of a Friday Five here is that the next Africa entry is one of my absolute favorites, and it's very entertaining and it would have been a fun way for people to kind of wrap up the weekend with a funny story about how lazy I can be and how Lisa basically won. But I feel like there have been no real updates on ME lately (ha). And it's been a strange week. I've had lots of change thrown in my face. Upheaval, really. Some hard decision making. So, some of this is short, but it's really a Friday 10 to maybe not catch us up, but cover some things.
1. Meandering: In the face of some change, and some young'ins, I updated The Nature of Sand. Which is to say that I pontificated in a circuitous manner and indulged myself by blogging it.
2. Just for Pookie: I rarely point to the thankful journal, but today's entry is special and just for Pookie, so I want to be sure he notices it. Here's today's thankful entry, baby brother.
3. Gay or Douche Bag? This is a new game that Larry invented for us to play on the Strip. I think the game is pretty self explanatory, but in case you don't get it, you basically grab your cocktail and sit in a casino (or a club, or the airport) and try to identify who's gay and who's just a douche bag. You have no idea how fun this is, or how hard it can be.
4. The Joel Robuchon Mansion: Was unreal. I want to say that the caviar course was my favorite, but the veal was amazing. Also the shellfish course was amazing. Oh, and the mushroom course was amazing. But oddly, there was a palette cleanser of a soy bean risotto that was actually our favorite. I just salivated.
5. Eddie Vedder: It was like 1992 all over again, except not since there were no music downloads in 1992. I rushed to my iTunes account the day the new Eddie Vedder was released, and it is good. I don't know that I'll be able to watch Into the Wild, because the book alone sent me into a fit of depression for a week, but the soundtrack is beautiful. I heart Eddie Vedder.
6. G-Mail Chat Poetics: I have once again translated mine, Paul and Dex's gmail status indicators into a poem for you. In this case, it worked out to pretty much be a haiku.
Nintendo's Bitch - Paul Nintendo Widower - Dex Nintendo's White Slave!
7. Where is my period? This is what we're all asking. I'm sure it's just stress related. I have a zit, a headache and a backache, so I'm sure it will be here any day. Given that it's a week plus late, I didn't drink tonight, just in case. And then you know how it is, the later it is the more you worry and the more you stress and the later and later it will be. And then you find yourself saying things like, "I mean, it would be nearly impossible," but then you do the math and "nearly impossible" is not "impossible." This is my brain right now with every minute that passes with a zit, a backache and a headache but no period. Hi, mom!
8. Later on...when my period comes and we're all like "See, it was just the travel and the stress of all the other unexpected changes when you got back," I'll tell you about all of the other crazy stuff that's been going on in my head as the days drag by and I get later and later.
9. See, now I've stressed myself out: This is the cycle. I know I probably have nothing to worry about, but as soon as I start thinking or talking or writing about it, all I can think about is how freakin' late I am.
10. Let's watch a video instead. This is probably only funny to you if you've ever worked in a corporate marketing department and dealt with corporate design issues. And usually there's only one corporate "design" issue. And it has to do with...logo size. If you've never worked in a corporate marketing department, this is not so funny. If you have, well, you'll laugh your ass off.
A Monday Five In Which Sometimes Even I Am Like "This is my life.Seriously."
1. British Nick the Lawyer: On Friday, my weekend horoscope said the following:
"Sometimes, we work too hard and put up barriers that prevent us from sharing innocent emotion. Love and support is on offer this weekend. You deserve it. Accept it."
And I read it, and I was like, "That's a bold prediction." And then on Friday night I was out with KALM and her new, fantastic, sweet, funny boyfriend, and we're at (where else?) Caramel. And this man comes up to offer to buy me a drink. Now, quite honestly, I was about to give my standard reply of, "That's really sweet, but honestly tonight I just feel like hanging out with my friends," because that's where my head was at. But then I remembered my horoscope, so I said sure. And do you know what? That man, whom we'll call British Nick the Lawyer (because he was British, his name was Nick, and he was a lawyer), ended up being the sweetest, most honest, kind, darling man ever. And we ended up spending almost the entire weekend together having expensive cocktails and fine meals and talking about the UK and places in the world we'd been (because, honestly, on Friday night the moment in which he "had" me was when I made a joke about things British people are good at, and he said "We're also very good at invasion and occupation."). He was so sweet that we're trying to work out a way for him to come over to Amsterdam during my layover to Entebbe and have dinner. So go on, Johnathan Cainer. You're a badass. You got that one right. Viva SMOS.
2. Speaking of the Bellagio: On Saturday, British Nick the Lawyer and I had half an hour to kill, so we sat down at a table to play some blackjack. The table had a $15 minimum bet and I cashed in $100 for chips. At one point, I was up to $165. Then I lost eleven straight hands and went entirely broke. So I pulled out another $100. And I looked at British Nick the Lawyer, and I looked at the young gun who was playing at the same table with us, and I looked at our dealer Sara, and I pushed all $100 in on one bet.
"What are you doing?" said British Nick the Lawyer.
"Breaking even or going home!"I said.
And I hit a 19, and the dealer busted. And I was breaking even for the night.
"Lucky," said British Nick the Lawyer. "I guess this when we cash out and go, now that you're back to break even."
And he cashes out.
But I have gambler's face on at this point.
And I put all $200 in on one bet.
And I pull a 15. And the dealer is showing ten. And I believe Marchione once told me that you should hold in that moment and hope the dealer busts.
But I hit. And I get a four (which takes me to 19). And the dealer busts. And I have now doubled up and made a $200 profit.
"And this," I say, "Is when we walk away."
(Except you all know how I love to gamble. I mean, I did walk away, but I really didn't want to.)
3. Speaking Again of British Nick the Lawyer: And so, in the awesomeness that is "Things men say", this happened.
British Nick the Lawyer I'm going to be honest, and then you're probably never going to speak to me again, but there was a moment last night when I had pause to wonder if you were a hooker.
Me Oh, come now. I'm way not pretty enough to be a hooker in this town.
British Nick the Lawyer No, that was the problem. You're so stunningly beautiful. I thought you would have to have been a hooker to still be hanging out with me.
And really, what do you do with that? Well, if you're me and you're slightly schizo anyway, you do this.
Me My GOD. In what moment did you think I might be a hooker? Was it the moment where we determined that I make more money than you do? Or was it when I begged you to let me pay for a round of drinks? Or was it after I gave you my theories on American political structure in the context of world government? My GOD.
Oh, but you think I'm pretty! That's so sweet!
Listen, it's possible to be simultaneously flattered and offended. It is.
4. But speaking of being mistaken as a hooker: This story happened while I was waiting for KALM and crew to show at the Venetian. It is best told by simply retyping a series of Twitters I sent out while waiting for them.
12:09am: Standing unattended at the circle bar in the venetian counting the minutes until i am mistaken for a hooker
12:17am: Meanwhile-i watch the actual hooker next to me test the waters for possible business
12:19am: The hooker sitting next to me is what in vegas we call a 4am girl
12:23am: First confusion about my hooker status-21 minutes
12:28am: Apparently, if i were really a hooker, the type of clientèle that i would attract all wear golf shirts
12:30am: And as if on cue, "sweet child o mine" starts playing
12:48am: And we are on hooker mistake number 2
And, finally, those kids showed up and my hooker game fun was done.
5. And speaking, finally, of something totally unrelated: I have this friend who shall remain nameless in the context of this story but who has no shortage of bad ass on his resume. And on Sunday I was hanging out watching football and eating with him at Nikki Lee's, this exchange happened.
Anonymous Badass Friend I have a number for you to take to Uganda with you.
Me Huh?
Anonymous Badass Friend This guy. He works for (insert name of a corporation that pretty much everyone in Africa will fear. A corporation loosely referenced in an award-nominated Leonardo DiCaprio film about the ruthlessness of a certain industry in Africa).
Me Oh, that would be helpful if anything goes wrong.
Anonymous Badass Friend No, you don't understand. If anything goes wrong, this is the call you make BEFORE the embassy. You make this call and then within an hour there are four land cruisers and twenty white men whose passports don't match their accents. This is the call you make.
It's only funny people, because it's a true story.
So, if the official start date for SMOS was August 1st, then basically what we're saying is it took exactly one month for this to turn into a dating chronicle blog. Awesome. Because here's what's coming up this week:
- A condom and sushi story. No joke. And there's no euphemism in there. - A more comprehensive list of things not to do on Match. I should coach this shit. - Why I'm starting to think that being single is so much fun that I'll never want to get serious again (Who knew? This shit is awesome.)
But for today, let us discuss 1/4 Boyfriend. "1/4 Boyfriend" is a name that Wooderson gave this boy I'm dating. The name is funny because the other day, Wooderson asks me "How's SMOS going for you?" (which is the question everybody asks every day). And I started telling him this story about how "SMOS is awesome, but, you know, there's kind of a safety net since with person x he operates kind of like 1/4 of a boyfriend so I never feel lonely or whatever." So now we call him 1/4 Boyfriend.
So, the thing you need to know to find the following funny, is what I said to 1/4 Boyfriend on our very first date ever (which I was informed last night was on June 16th). And so, sometime in the first 30 minutes of said date, I said this, "Listen, just so you know, I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I'm seriously not looking for a relationship in any way. I'm so excited about being single right now. So you and I will be just fine and have a great run if we just remember that we're deciding right now not to get attached."
So last night 1/4 Boyfriend and I went out for drinks. And I was early (which we know NEVER happens). So for about twenty minutes I was sitting at the bar at Cheers reading some Fitzgerald. For people who live in Vegas and have been to Cheers, nothing I will write in the rest of this entry will be funnier than the idea of me sitting at the bar in Cheers with classic American literature. Anyway...there is a local drunk sitting next to me who wants to chat. Which I'm okay with because he speaks French, albeit drunken French, so I can practice. And then 1/4 Boyfriend arrives and we're talking. And then the local French-speaking drunkard gets ready to leave, but he wants to chat with us first.
Local French-Speaking Drunkard She is beautiful, isn't she?
1/4 Boyfriend (As we learned over Fourth of July weekend, 1/4 Boyfriend is way too smart for this game. He knows that there's nothing he can say here that's the right answer and that I won't throw back in his face later. So he just gives me the "Ha! The local drunkard thinks you're beautiful! That's funny. Maybe he can be your other 1/4 boyfriend." look).
Local French-Speaking Drunkard You are beautiful too. You know, before you got here, she said she was waiting for a beautiful man.
Me I DID NOT SAY ANYTHING LIKE THAT.
1/4 Boyfriend (Insert "This is going to be awesome when I make fun of you for this later" look)
Local French-Speaking Drunkard Actually, what she said was that she was waiting for a good man.
1/4 Boyfriend Well, she's got a good man sitting right here.
Me Listen, I didn't say that either. I didn't say either of those things.
Local French-Speaking Drunkard Let me tell you, I can tell the future. And let me tell you what the future is for the two of you. The two of you, you are a beautiful couple. You are a beautiful couple.
1/4 Boyfriend (insert "Missy, this is what you get for engaging the drunkard in conversation before I got here.")
Me We are not a ... Oh my GOD ... CAN I GET A JACK AND COKE OVER HERE? A DOUBLE?
It was fun times. I will say, in the name of not making fun of him too much since "1/4 Boyfriend" is not the sweetest pet name any woman ever gave any man, that he does get "good man" points after last night. Four drinks down, I was all like "I'm so hungry", and so he took me home and made me eggs and toast. And any boy who ever dated me and was worth anything will tell you that feeding me breakfast food (at any time in the day) is a sure way to my heart.
A Friday Five In Which I Close the Month With Strippers
1. I am the coolest girl you'll ever date: This is an actual exchange that went on this week.
Runner Boy Via Text We're still on for Friday?
Me Via Email YES! But, um, how do you feel about drinking at the Wynn for at least part of the time? I have to do stripper control and maintanence for a party around 10 or so (by which I mean pay the girls, walk them up and make sure nobody is overweight). After that I'm free.
Runner Boy Via Email Let me make myself clear. I have asked you out on a date and you have counter offered with drinking at the Wynn (one of my favorite hotels), hanging out and "judging" strippers (I have a brain......so no comment), then enjoying the rest of the evening with just you after 10pm. Gosh Jocelyn........DUH!!!!!! :-)
It's true, I am officially the coolest girl you can data. Viva SMOS.
2. Speaking of Strippers: I thought you might enjoy this story. We're planning a party for some bachelors this weekend, and they want strippers in the room. So I call them and say, "Can you be more specific about exactly what kind of girls you want?" They need to think. They need to call me back. And when they do, this is what they want:
"We'd like one blond girl with REALLY big boobs. Once exotic girl, and one Black girl with a great tush."
Listen, if I'm not going to be part of the solution, I'm at least going to capitalize on the problem.
3. A Story of a Camera: This is another story of fun times in LA last weekend. I don't know why World Famous in SF doesn't allow permalinking, which would make this easier, but shamus? tells the story better than I do. Suffice it to say that a camera was taken, incriminating pictures of shamus? looking like a fool looking for his camera were taken and then hyjinx ensued. Click here to read the story, because it's awesome. It's the August 28th entry.
4. Rambling: I have less than 20 days until Africa and still have no visa. I like the excitement of waiting, is what it must be. And I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to 24 straight hours of flying. Football season, who needs it? Twitter: Best thing since MySpace! Facebook: Better than MySpace. BankofAmerica=BankofEvil. My iPod: Jamming.
5. Friday Playlist. There's no playlist at all this week because, really, there's only one song that we should all be listening to. And it's here. I don't feel right inside right now.
"Great news, Jeremy, DoodyBubble is totally available. We can get right on this tomorrow!"
Subtitled: LA is Always, Like, an Adventure
One of the things that I always did love about living in San Francisco is that, if you wanted to go create an adventure one night, there was always something to do to create that adventure and there were always playmates ready and willing to have an adventure. LA is like that for me, too, which is probably why I'm on my way there. (Yes, really.)
I had a good weekend of adventure.
On Friday night, I went with shamus? and Tom to get midnight tacos and then to the Hard Place Pompeii party. Which was at the White Slave Trade. In an alley. In Echo Park. I have three most favorite stories from the night, and also, you can see all of the Hard Place band photos here.
Story Number One: "Well, then I can't help you." So, let it be said that I loved everybody I met. They were all creative and fun and nice and lovers of the absurd. However, I think that I am not telling anybody anything that they don't already know when I say that I am not so much attracted to LA scenester boys in skinny jeans (which, by the way, in my mind are as much as much a travesty on men as are manpris and Crocs). However, possibly as punishment for, well, pick it, God gave me a little scenester boy. This one was so devoted to his favorite band that he had ridden his bike from Burbank to the show. Because bike was his preferred form of transport, which is important later.
I was not in the mood for game. I had not been in the mood for game to begin with. Bike Boy kept telling me that my gold lame stretch pants from AA were so hot he couldn't stand it, which may have been the funniest thing any boy has ever said to me in my life while trying to pick me up. Because, I think we all know that gold lame stretch pants are not hot on ANYBODY.
It is also important to note that shamus?, Tom and myself had no place to sleep that night. None of us had so much bothered to work that out, and all of us were like "We'll just figure that shit out after the show." That's how we roll. So, at one point, I'm trying to extract myself from the couch with scenester boy, and I'm like, "I need to go check in with shamus? and Tom. We don't have a place to sleep tonight."
Scenester Boy You can come back to my place. I have a fold out couch in the living room. They can sleep there.
Me In Burbank?
Scenester Boy Yeah. Burbank.
Me What are we going to do about your bike then?
Scenester Boy We can take it apart and put it in the back of your car. Then you can drive to Burbank.
I see how it is. YES. We're all about the preservation of the environment by riding bikes, but when the possibility of getting laid is on the table - LET'S BURN SOME FOSSIL FUEL.
There were many reasons why that hook up wasn't going to happen, including but not limited to a)I was tired, b)I wasn't in the mood, c)I wasn't all that into it, d)I was on my period, and e)I am way too old and make way too much money to hook up with somebody just so that me and my two gay friends have a place to sleep that night. I totally stopped doing that sometime in my mid-twenties.
Anyway, it's time to extract from the situation. shamus? is about to walk away and I grab him by the toga (oh yes, yes he did) and I'm all like "You can't go anywhere. Help me." So shamus? actually offers up a good excuse to leave the situation. And that excuse is, "Lady friend, do you need a vodka drink? I'll buy you one, but I'm not carrying it for you. You need to get your ass up and walk to the bar."
I give you MAN TOGA.
Now, admittedly, he's given me a perfect reason to disappear. The entire world can see that I need a drink. He's offered to get me one. All I have to do is get up. But immediately the struggle begins in me, and my brain starts screaming "What up, bitch? I can't believe you think I'm getting off my ass to get a drink when you have perfectly healthy legs and arms to bring said drink to me over here." And before I can stop myself, I say, "I am NOT getting up to get a drink. What's wrong with you?"
And shamus? stares at me. Baffled by my reluctance to leave the very situation I just said I needed help getting out of (making this moment a microcosm of my entire life). And he sighs, and he says:
"Well I can't help you then."
And then he disappears. Leaving me there with all kinds of bad touch on gold lame and having to live with the results of the uncontrollable dose of princess in my blood. And in the best news you will hear all week, somebody actually took a picture of this entire scene while it was going down. Perfect.
Story Number Two: Five Dollars, Please. Shortly after shamus? disappears, I get up and go after him. He is standing by the door with one of the guys from The Passionistas. If you didn't notice it in the photo, the guys from The Passionistas had made their togas from American flags. Perhaps you are offended by this, perhaps you are not. In either case, you don't need to tell me about it because I am not the person who showed up in an American flag toga. I am simply relaying a story that requires you to know that there is a person in a toga made from an American flag.
To this moment, I am not sure how this happened, but shamus?, the guy from The Passionistas and I ended up working the door. I really don't know how it happened. One minute we were talking, and the next minute we were asking people for $5 on their way in. We have no idea where the actual doorman, a large man with questionable dental hygiene, disappeared to. But at one point, the actual doorman comes back. And he's on some substance. And he looks at the guy from The Passionistas and says
"Thanks for working the door for me. Thanks so much. You know, you know, I'm gonna tell you something. You know about all that shit that went down at Roswell? You know? Like aliens and shit? Yeah. You know where George Bush was born? Yeah, like an hour from Roswell. George Bush isn't human. He's an alien implant. And global warming isn't global warming. It's making the climate right for the aliens. I'M FUCKING GLAD YOU DENIGRATED THE AMERICAN FLAG, DUDE."
We did not work the door for much longer. That is all. And for the record, this is how the night ended. If you didn't know better, you would think that shamus? was all emo and I had overdosed. But really, there's just no better way in my world to end a night than curled up asleep next to shamus while he's wearing a bedazzled shower curtain as a toga.
Story Number Three: It's 4:10am! Do You Know Where Your Jocelyn Is? So, we leave that show/party at around 3:30am. Still with no place to sleep. shamus? looks at me. "What are you going to do?" I'm like, "I think I'm just going to get on the 405 and find a hotel closer to Long Beach since I need to be there in the morning." And so the three of us split up. But after I get on the 405, my thought process is as follows:
"You know, Shimmy said to me yesterday that she had to leave her place at 5am on Saturday morning to go for a run. If I just drive all the way to Long Beach, I'll get there a little after 4am, which is right when she should be waking up. That works. That totally works!"
And so I drive my ass down to Long Beach. And I pull up in front of Shimmy's bougie building. And at 4:10am I text her this: "Hey! Txt me back if you're awake!"
My phone rings.
Me I can't believe you're awake!
Shimmy I can't believe you just texted me.
Me Can you come down and let me in?!!!!
And that girl, that wonderful girl, she came down and let me in and put me to bed and made me tea later. Right now, don't you wish that you and I were tight like that? Because if you and I were tight like that, I would possibly show up at your place at 4:10am begging you to let me in, then invading your calm and peaceful home while wearing some gold lame stretch pants and a hoodie, smelling like cigarettes, booze and alley urine and justifying all of this by yelling "YOU'RE SO LUCKY, IT'S LIKE GOD SENT ME HERE TO MAKE SURE YOU GOT UP AND WENT RUNNING THIS MORNING!!!!!!"
That girl is wonderful. I am not wonderful because, really, who behaves like that?
As for the rest of the weekend... Well, it was pretty much perfect. Shimmy came back from her run, and we went out and had crepes and mimosas (well, I had a mimosa, Shimmy is being good). The I managed to spend $160 on two dresses MADE OF T-SHIRT MATERIAL to take to Africa. Then I managed to spend $70 on two candles. Then I turned to Shimmy and said, "Maybe I should spend some money today." That's when we realized that shopping should stop and went and had PinkBerry instead.
And then we slept. I think the plan was more like "nap," but I slept until Charles called to tell me that dinner was at six. At which point, I was like, "Uh, maybe six thirty - I'm still in Long Beach." And then I arrived at dinner at 7:00pm. Shadalan, Shimmy, Charles and Luci were ALL there before me, and Shimmy didn't even leave until I was supposedly five blocks away from the place.
But that excepted, dinner was lovely. It was beautiful outside. Charles and Luci had brought two lovely, lovely bottles of vino. Shadalan looked like a beautiful Persian princess. Shimmy was hungry. I was thirsty. Conversation was easy and laughter was frequent. And we all left contented.
The next morning, Shimmy and I got karmic-ly cleansed and talked about anger in the world from a Buddhist perspective. You can decide for yourself if that was time well spent for me when I tell you that after I got back to Vegas that night, I had to pull over to the side of the road to talk myself out of ramming my car into the back of the car in front of me to make them drive faster. So maybe that class worked in that I didn't do that, and maybe it didn't in that I still wanted to. Whatever.
After getting cleansed, we filled back up with this ridiculously good diner food that included but was not limited to all of the following on two plates: toast, french toast stuffed with cream cheese and sugar, hash browns, poached eggs, gravy, corn beef hash, some kind of eggs of a scrambled or omelet variety, avocado, bacon, sour cream...you know what, I'm missing something. Even the man sitting next to us was like, "You guys put a huge dent in that for such little people."
And then it was time to leave, and if I didn't have the fact that My Favorite Mike (MFM) was in town and we were having dinner at Rao, I would have cried about leaving.
So.Fucking.Tragic. That's what I'm subtitling that weekend. Only because of that picture of shamus? and I.
I miss you LA! I'm headed back any day now! Seriously!
Oh goodness. I'm so underwater. How did this happen, and how did I think that going to LA this weekend was a good idea? I guess the good news is that it's only Monday and I can get caught up/ahead if I'm really committed to the idea. That said, the best I can do today is a disjointed list - number of items to be determined later.
1. Ferris and Dana: Are here, and if I didn't mention it, I love them. There are some select pictures here, and many more will be added after they download. I love that picture of them in front of the Rio sign. It'll be getting printed for framing later.
2. The Party of the Century: Honestly, could not have been more perfect. ToniK and I almost wanted to cry it went so perfectly. Our clients were amazingly impressed with us and think that we're goddesses. If you were following my Twitter stream, you got most of the highlights, but let me bullet some things out.
- Don't hate all rich folk, because some of them are wonderful. This family was wonderful. The mother arranged this entire weekend in Vegas for 20 close friends and family kept every single thing a secret about it. They didn't know where they were going or what they were doing. That's sweet. It's what I'd do if I had more money than God, too.
- We had an issue getting the stripper in the cake through the door. Then Geronimo, the guy in charge of the cake, just pushed it REALLY hard and it was fine. Also, I can now sing almost every word of Kajra Re. Word.
- We loved how at 11:00pm on a Saturday they asked us to see if we could get a VIP table at Tryst. We loved even more that we made it happen.
- If we described our Saturday night, it would sound like we didn't work, because it would sound like this "After we got them in the limos, we sat at the bar at The Eiffel Tower restaurant and each had two glasses of Geverztraminer, some escargot and some carpaccio. Then we went and hung out in their VIP area in Tryst." Let me assure you, I've managed high strung staffs and million dollar budgets. I've never worked as hard as we did during that party. I slept for a day afterwards.
3. Speaking of Staffs: Mine is so snotty. In our department meeting today, we pretty much talked about how awesome we all were and how not awesome everybody else was. I like to see that I pass my best qualities on to my employees. Sad. I need to do some self and team correction on that.
4. 50 People I Don't Want to Die Without Sleeping With: If you had a facebook account, you would have seen my list. I can't make you get one, but it was funny stuff. I suppose I could get motivated to recreate it here. I guess. It was so much work the first time though.
5. Also: Tonight I finished one of the writing projects I said I wanted to finish by the end of the summer, and when I wrote the last line, it made me cry. And I'm actually not a very good fiction writer, and this isn't even the SAD writing project that I was working on. I'm actually toying with the idea of posting some of my fiction when I leave for Uganda so that people can read it while I'm not here to deal with the knowledge that people are reading it. You like the way I'll blog about every single messy detail of my life, but ask me to show you some of my fiction and I'll hide under the couch? Because the fiction is almost more personal because the cover of fiction allows me to access things I wouldn't normally access. I don't know. We'll see.
I've actually cried a couple of times about the end of that story since I finished it. I even knew in my head how it would end, but when I actualized it, it felt so sad.
6. I Make Messes: This is a portion of a conversation that happened tonight:
Me I'm making a mess with that boy. We all know this isn't good. We all know that six months from now I'm going to have to clean up this mess I'm making. Fuckit.
Dana (insert stare of "You know what you're doing isn't good. So stop.")
Me I know. I KNOW.
I can tell you this, if you were a betting person, you could comfortably bet that this thing I'm doing right now is going to turn into a horrible mess and I'll spend the holidays either a)feeling like I am the most horrible person with zero self control or b) crying. Or both. Wagers in, please.
7. Twenty Days: In Uganda when the rest of my life stops for a while like it doesn't exist cannot come soon enough. And nothing's even bad in my life right now. I just have the itch. HOW WRONG IS THAT?
Oh, people, let me promise you that this one is a winner if you follow me to the end.
Firstly, it was girls' Saturday in Denver this weekend, by which I mean Princess Night. Here are the rules of Princess Night:
- The first rule of Princess Night is do not speak of Princess Night unless it is on your blog
- The second rule of Princess Night is that all of the following are required: sparkling tiaras, fairy wands, margaritas, chips and salsa, tarot cards, dancing to Britney Spears on the patio, singing along to Howie Day like you're all fourteen again and singing along to the radio at your sleepover.
- Not required but good to have in the day leading up to Princess Night are The Man Band, Casino Royale, Kiran, ramen, goyoza, new bath product, coffee, pastry and napping.
- The third rule of Princess Night is feel fearless about telling each other the truth about love, life, spirituality, dating men with children (which two of us are doing), dieting, drinking, baby making sex, non-baby making sex, feeling lost, feeling fearful, feeling empowered, feeling like you're on a good path, feeling insecure, feeling drunk. Mostly though you need to be fearless about talking about your own failings in those areas.
- The fourth rule of Princess Night is wear something with an elastic waistband. My bad.
It was a good Princess Night. And over ramen and Kiran and then over margaritas and chicken enchiladas, SMOS vs. SMOA was established.
Me I'm completely dedicated to this six months of single concept.
K-Yo SMOS, you mean?
Me Oh, an acronym! Perfect. Every project is more successful with an acronym.
K-Yo Hey, but, you know, what about you and that cute boy with the sexy glasses?
Me Oh, but, I mean, we're not exclusive.
K-Yo But you would say you're dating, right?
Me Yes, but not exclusively. Dating other people as well. So it's still SMOS.
K-Yo No, it's SMOA.
Me ?
K-Yo Six Months of Available. That's different. If you're dating somebody regularly, you're not getting all of the same growth you'd get with SMOS because you still have the security of knowing that somebody wants you.
Me Oh. I think you're right.
K-Yo SMOS would mean you never dated anybody for longer than a month during that time period.
Me Oh. Really?
K-Yo Yes.
(long pause while I think it through)
Me What if at the end of the month, after the expiration date on dating the person had hit, it just became about sex? What if we weren't dating anymore, but we were still having sex?
K-Yo Could you really do that without getting emotionally attached?
Me (gives look of "Have you met me?") Yes. Surely. You just have to have rules that limit things like time and nature of conversation before and afterward. A good set of rules can totally avoid the emotional connection. Yeah. Sure.
K-Yo You need to have an actual set of rules drawn up then. I'm not sure I trust you to stick to them if you started to get really into somebody.
Me Sure. I think next week I'll ask DCWP to do that for me. He's good at that sort of thing.
K-Yo I think SMOS is important for you. I don't think you'll get what you're looking for out of SMOA.
Me So much about this conversation is fucked up, but mostly just that we're having it.
And so that was girls' weekend. I love those girls. Ladies, ladies of ILovePaulJack, BEGIN TO SAVE YOUR PENNIES NOW (unless you are about to purchase a home in which case you will read that sentence and then ask me if I know that I'm an asshole for forgetting that every penny you have is going to your new home for your children - LOVE YOU CANDY). Dee, K-Yo and I are planning a girls' trip to Madrid next February. We picked February because it's off season and cheaper to travel, but it's also my birthday month so, you know, awesome. We picked Madrid for three reasons: sangria, it's language friendlier for most of us, men. MEN. And SMOS doesn't really end until February, so that works out. I'll send an email, but you know you want to come (please come).
You can commit to coming and then bail due to pregnancy or incarceration. Sadly, those are BOTH concerns with this crew.
You know, I wasn't actually going to update, but I'm going to post this before I go so that we can compare my before and after mindset. I'll be all peaceful and zen-centered when I come down off of the mountain, but here's where my head was today.
1. What have we learned? Men do not get to plan camping trips.
What you first need to know is that after we come down off of the mountain proper, we will be camping like you think of camping. Tents, sleeping bags, canned food. However, while we are on the mountain, we've agreed to all light-pack. This means one camel-back and one day pack per person. It means sleeping without tents and sleeping bags by the fire and powdered food only (plus some Snickers bars). It also means that the bulk of the food supplies will need to be stored in somebody's car while we're up on the mountain.
So I look at the master packing list that went out this week, on which what is being brought and by whom is listed. On the packing list, there is only one bear bag listed, and it is being brought by Paul (a bear bag keeps a bear from being able to smell, and thus try to get at, your food).
Me via email after reading this: "Don't we need two bear bags? One for the mountain and one for the food that's being left in the unattended car in the middle of a national park?"
E-Stop replies: "I believe that is correct."
And then ... nothing. And then today I am on the phone with PaulM getting the last of the shopping list together, and I mention the bear bag issue.
PaulM: "Right. So, um, yeah. I didn't so much have time to go get a bear bag. Are you making a run to REI by any chance before you leave? Can you just get two and we'll buy them off of you later?
No shit people.
The day today ended with this.
Me IF YOU DON'T STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW, I WILL KILL YOU.
Him But, I'm just saying that ....
Other Him No, dude, she's not joking. You're about a hot minute away from something you'll find really ugly and we'll find really amusing. She WILL kill you.
2. What else have we learned? Maybe one successful start-up business was enough.
Did you see RJ on Sportscenter, by the way? Awesome.
I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted because it's 11:23pm and I'm just starting to pack for this trip tomorrow. And my car smells like KFC or something equally disgusting. And I can't actually pack my pack because the cats peed on it and now it's in the wash, so all that I can do is layout all of my stuff and pack in the AM. And why am I just starting this at 11:23pm?
Because I left the office at 10pm and still had to run a few errands. I left the office at 10pm because it's football season and Pregame is going to have an amazing season. The stuff that we're launching is insane good and we're ahead of every revenue projection we made even if the industry is screwy right now. And Party Planning Girlz? Who knew? We thought we'd do that to pay off our travel bills, and it's blowing up. FAST. We plan good parties, and we're smart business girls who built that business the right way. And while that's great, a start-up is a start-up and today I had to deal with the IRS, the bank, the phone company we deal with for our 800 number, a screw up on the website AND I still didn't organize receipts. And that was also while working a 12 hour Pregame day. My mom reminded me that I need to sleep this week. I will sleep on the mountain, I promise.
I'm totally proud of both businesses that I co-founded. Amazingly proud. But seriously, one hot start up would have been enough for a while. I'm zonked.
3. What else did we learn? Next time I commit to being single for a while, I should really do that.
And that time is NOW. Except remember how not just two months ago I was all like "AND NO BOYS THIS SUMMER" and that lasted for about five minutes. And today at 8:00am I was having the "I think you're so amazing, but I really just want to be friends" talk with a boy. A sweet boy. A really cute boy (ask shamus). A smart boy. A funny boy. A boy who likes to tell me that I'm cute and funny and engaging and sweet. A boy whom I love being around. And I'm all like, "I really just want to be friends."
And he'll be the first to tell you that most of why I was saying that had more to do with him than me (There was no, "It's not you, it's me" going on in this conversation at all. In fact, I was pretty much like, "It's you. Seriously."). But, you know, a lot of it was really that on Sunday there was some frustration about a situation that's made me kind of agitated, and I took a moment and slowed down and was like "repeating cycle, break it." It's been over nine years since the last time I was without a boyfriend or husband or an "early stages boyfriend" for anything longer than a month. I have never in that time been out of a relationship for more than a couple of weeks without immediately getting into a new one, and embarrassingly enough a couple of times I wasn't even all the way out yet before I was in the next one. And I kind of feels like for me it's just so easy to immediately find myself in something and it almost happens before I turned around. But I SWEAR for the next six months or so I'm going to work on just being Jocelyn instead of being Jocelyn with some boy in the picture, too.
Point to this moment in a couple of weeks when I've abandoned this and am wearing some boy's sweater or something.
And for the record, that boy who I just want to be friends with, he was all like, "I'm really sad, maudlin even." And when he used the word "maudlin," I wanted to yell "SEE, IF WE COULD JUST CHANGE A FEW THINGS I WOULD FALL FOR YOU SO FUCKING HARD." But those things are realities that won't change, and I just want to rest and be me and go to Africa and New York and Denver just as me. Not as me with part of me given away temporarily, you know?
Again, we'll mock this entry in three weeks when I've got somebody's class ring on or something.
I'm going to bed now. I have to be on the road in six hours. Jesus.
See you when I get back!
ps - A-Train! I bought a silly hat for this trip JUST FOR YOU!!!!!!!!
"So...What You're Saying is That You Would Really Prefer If I Didn't Date Other People?": The Friday Five
That's an actual question that I had to ask this week, and I'm pretty sure that my response of laughter after I said it was not what the other person wanted to hear. But listen, people make agreements about how things are going to operate. And there was an agreement made. And that is all. Except, you know, there went my night tonight. Four hours of conversation I'll never get back.
This Friday Five is actually a Friday 10 since there will be no Friday Five next week since I will be up on the top of a mountain (not just any mountain, the highest mountain in the continental United States) getting my bliss on with my favorite Hoosier boys. So we're killing it here, including ten songs on the playlist. Maybe you want to just read half this week and then read half next week when you're missing me? That's fine. Just make sure you read about the bitchwhore contest.
1. Speaking of that Camping Trip: So okay. The best friend of the incredibly cute and amazingly funny newspaper boy says that I'm making a horrible generalization when I say that you should never let men plan anything. But I'm going to say, "You should never let men plan anything." Let me give you some examples of things that happened during our CONFERENCE CALL about last minute logistics for this trip. And fyi, only MEN require a conference call to get shit together for things like this.
"I mean, we maybe don't so much have mountain permits, per say."
"Yeah, I mean, I know that I get in super late, but I guess I'll just run through Wal Mart when I get off the plane and get, I don't know, some granola or something."
"Are you sure it's going to only take us two days to summit this mountain? Because...well, this says three?"
And I responded to all three as follows:
"For fuck's sake, E and I will go up early and get the permits."
"SHUT UP. Just send me a list of what you want to eat and I'll buy it and pack it and bring it in the car with me."
"So, if it's three days, that means that the entire rest of the itinerary is off, right?"
Never.Let.Men.Plan.Anything.
2. Speaking of Men: Oh my GOD. Then, on Tuesday night, I get a call from Big R. "Hey, I have this friend who's a pilot whose flight got grounded and he's in town overnight. Can you go have a drink with him? You'll really like him."
To which I respond, "No ... no. It's already 10:30pm on a Wednesday. It'd be midnight by the time I got there. And anyway, I'm kind of in a situation where that wouldn't be cool, so...just...no."
Except that of course I get talked into it.
HOW ON EARTH DID YOU THINK I WAS GOING TO NOT HATE HIM?
Here is the first exchange that happens within minutes of sitting down.
Him It's important to me that you not get intimidated because I'm so smart. I mean, sure, I have to know all about math and meteorology and physics for my job, but that's just second nature to me. Don't be intimidated by how smart I am.
Me Oh, I'll really try not to be.
But he's a friend of a friend, so even though in real-life that would have immediately warranted an "I have to go now," I stuck it out. And then this gem rolls out while we're talking about hometowns.
Him You know what I love about Pittsburgh?
Me The food? The Steelers? The beautiful rivers?
Him (leaning in conspiratorially) It's a WHITE city.
My God, that happened. Again, because he's a friend of a friend, I make an attempt to parry with some comment about how Pittsburgh's racial diversity is underestimated, though of course what I really wanted to say was something else (like "I like brown"). And while I am tempted to pull out the "I have to go now," I stay. Until this.
I'm telling him the story about how I lost my passport and the hassle it is to replace a passport.
Me I don't know if you've ever lost a passport and had to replace it but...
Him I would NEVER lose a passport because that's an important travel document and I would know enough to keep track of where it was.
Me Sure, but what happened was that I had misplaced my license and had to use my passport for ID for a couple of weeks and ... (and I stop, realizing that I've said the wrong thing).
Him You know, if I were your boyfriend, I'd really have to slap you around now and then when you did stuff like that.
Me (wait for it) I have to go now.
WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING WHEN YOU TALKED ME INTO HAVING A DRINK WITH HIM? AND DON'T TELL ME THAT HE'S NOT LIKE THAT WHEN HE'S NOT DRINKING. GOOD GOD.
3. bitchwhore!: Okay, so F-Bomb and I want to have a contest, and sometime this week many of you will actually get an email from me harassing you to participate in the contest, but I don't have time for that right now. So I'm throwing up here to start and maybe you can get your groove on before I pressure you into it. So there's this whole inside joke going on with this word that I use ALL THE TIME. The word obviously being "bitchwhore". And I was tasked by F-Bomb to bring the word to the masses, because it's awesome (though in fairness I don't think that I originated the word). So, you've obviously seen the big link over there to the bitchwhore store. Go spend the $10 and buy yourself a t-shirt. Then, take a picture of yourself in the t-shirt, preferably somewhere with either massive natural or architectural awesomeness because we're going for irony. Or at the care home the next time you visit grandma. Or get out the makeup and go glam or goth. Whatever. Then email me the picture. Once we get 10 or so of them in, we'll put up a flickr stream and a Myspace page. then in November we'll narrow the field to 5 or so awesome finalist (more if we can rally enough people to get a lot of pictures) and put up and online poll and we can all vote and the winner gets $100 iTunes gift certificate from us. Or if you're too technologically challenged to use an iTunes gift certificate, we'll give you a gift certificate to the Olive Garden or TGIFridays or Red Lobster or whatever. A few things.
- You are not limited to shirts, because I get that the shirts are girly because they were designed by a girl and an effeminate man. There's a coffee mug. You can take a picture with the coffee mug.
- That thong is on there because I personally wanted one. I WILL VIOLENTLY BEAT THE FIRST ONE OF YOU WHO HAS ME OPEN AN EMAIL PICTURE OF YOUR CROTCH WITH A BITCHWORE LOGO ON IT. Though shots of you with that thong on your head are fine.
- I'll immediately advance any man to the final who takes a picture in the spaghetti strap cami (Mikey - that means YOU).
- You can send as many pictures as you want.
- TELL YOUR FRIENDS TO PARTICIPATE. If we get enough people, we add prizes.
Finally, (I Love) Paul Jack and (I Also Love) Dex are required to participate el pronto because I made two limited edition shirts just for you all. One with the "PS: It's a trap" line on it and one with "Sugarpussy" on it.
Click here to get your gear and go take a picture. Don't be cheap. You can get a shirt for $10. Or you can spent $20 and have something that looks hot. Doesn't matter to me. If you order soon, you avoid the nagging email from me.
4. All the way at number four is: And we're all the way to number four before we even talk about how much effing ass I kicked this week. Did you see my boss on NBC? Or on CBS? Or on ESPN? Were you among the sudden throng of needy Las Vegas party whores who want help? Did you get a job offer that works so perfectly that it means that after this Super Bowl you could take an entire eight months off without working at all? I did! Plus there were like a zillion other things because I AM ON FIRE. Funny how that happens when you shed off dead weight.
5. So, The Subtle Knife: What is wrong with you people? What is wrong with ALL of you who were like "I could barely get through the second book in that trilogy?" The second book is like a thousand percent better than the first. The storyline moves faster, you get to finally see where things are going, there's the bond between the children and (SPOILER) the scene where Lee Scoresby dies is written so well. I plowed through all three hundred pages in, like, four super busy days. I don't get it. But I'm totally looking forward to the third one.
6. I cannot watch Age of Love anymore: He kicked Jayanna off, and that's not cool. The fun has stopped now that actual hearts are involved.
7. So, football: Starts next weekend. NEXT WEEKEND. Already this week I felt the heat. There's so much to do. So much to do. But I'm the kind of girl who, the more there is to do, the more I get done. My staff is like that too, so they've all stepped it up and things are in an awesome flow. But I mention this because you know what happens when football happens. Less writing here. I go dark on the emails for weeks at a time sometimes. Not so much fun on MySpace. Okay, probably still lots of fun on MySpace because that's often a distraction that's perfect when I need a minute of break. But still. I can't believe it. I feel like I was JUST writing an entry about having post-Super Bowl hangover a week ago, but it was months.
8. I'm about to shut down my computer and go watch some 90210: Just thought you should know. And also, once again, I'm one item short of ten to make this happen.
9. I had no idea: I was watching So You Think You Can Dance this evening while in "awkward conversation recovery mode" and the musical guest was somebody named Mika doing a "song" called "Love Today." I had no idea. I'm still not even sure I understand what I watched. Could this really be happening on American TV? I mean, even with a Wayne Brady hosted lyrics show on TV, I expected more than bad Eurotrash pop even from Fox. I was originally bummed that I couldn't find a YouTube clip of the actual performance from So You Think You Can Dance tonight because it was undeniably special. But I found the actual music video and, frankly, it may be more special. You will sit and be confused. Baffled. And you must at every moment remember that this is not irony: This is not a video some college kid made in his basement to mock bad Eurotrash pop. Oh no, this is bad Eurotrash pop that is INVADING OUR SHORES. Forget the Minute Men down on the Mexican border. THIS IS THE CRAP WE NEED TO STOP FROM MAKING IT'S WAY INTO OUR PRECIOUS COUNTRY. OH MY GOD.
ps: Also embarrassing as a nation? When Wade Robson choreographs an anti-war dance, you know, ART and Fox makes the So You Think You Can Dance judges apologize for the STATEMENT OF HIS ART to all the lame ass deep southerners who complained. Unreal.
10. Here's a playlist: Because I'm ON FIRE right now, the playlist reflect that!
a. Fiona Apple: Extraordinary Machine: Because that's what I've felt like lately. In all respects, including the one she's talking about.
b. Savage Garden: Truly, Madly, Deeply: It's always been a guilty indulgence song anyway, but it got drunk sung to me this week and I was all like "Aw, cute." And it put it back on the radar because then I listened to it all week and was like "That was some cute drunk singing."
c. Charlie Daniels Band: Devil Went Down to Georgia: Because it randomly cycled through my playlist while I was running this week and I can't stop singing it, such as it.
d. Lyle Lovett: If I Had a Boat: This is a live version, which I actually prefer. I've been listening to it when I get a little too hyper during the day and I need to chill out.
e. Spice Girls: Wannabe: I mean, who HASN'T been listening to the Spice Girls since you heard about the reunion and watched that painful hour of Posh? "So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!"
f. Joss Stone: Sleep Like a Child: I'm still on my Joss Stone kick, and this is another song I've been listening to when I need to chill out my mind during the day.
g. Amy Winehouse: In My Bed: This is actually from her first album, which Ferris and Dana let me burn while I was home. It's my favorite track off of that album. I think I recall that it's Dana's favorite, too.
h. Ryan Shaw: Nobody: Okay, so just so you know, this track is off of his promotion site, so it's a little slower than the radio edit. Which is unfortunate because the song is AMAZING. Go to his MySpace or something and listen to the real version.
i. Kitaro: Silk Road: I mean, I've been listening to just a lot of Kitaro (thanks for putting that on your MySpace Ferris) all week to relax. Yep.
j. Violet Indiana: New Girl: Because I listen to Violet Indiana when I want to be still.
permalink baby
