Where Sapience Succumbs to Superficiality

I'm Deranged

2009-05-02T21:42:00.000-07:00

My sister just came home and asked if I'd heard of Omegle, a site that instantly connects you in a one-on-one chat with a complete stranger. She'd read about it in a NY Times article:

“The first person I connected with said, ‘let’s have cyber right now,’ ” he said of his experience on Omegle, referring to cybersex. “The second was a 14-year-old kid from London. It’s not hard to see how this is going to be a problem.”

I Googled it and quickly read some Gawker blurb:

Facebook, with its insistence on real names, has made making friends online so cumbersome. [Omegle's] the Internet-chat version of truckstop-bathroom sex — hotter because you don't know who you're hooking up with.

So I wasn't expecting much, but I figured I'd just give it a quick go. Here's what ensued (I'm "You"):

Connecting to server...

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Stranger: the game

You: what game?

Stranger: that one

You: ohhhh THAT one

Stranger: where i rape your mother

You: hot

Stranger: i know

You: plus she's dead..that adds another element to things

Stranger: yes

You: right.

Stranger: riggermortis made her tight again

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Granted, I can hold my own when it comes to sick topics of discussion. This is almost on par with stuff that B and I joke about on a daily basis (subtract the dead mom part and substitute lots of dirty anal). But that's where the aspect of anonymity quickly plunges from exciting to effed-in-the-head creepy. I'd much rather be a big ol' pervert with the dude who snuggles me at night than with some demented teenager who literally screwed the pooch, ya heard?

And on a side note, I haven't updated since October? For realz?!

I Kissed a Girl

2008-10-10T00:44:00.001-07:00

I just finished kicking Phil's ass--again, yawn--in our game of the moment, Blokus. I can't help that I keep trumping him so soundly. It's a gift. However, as long as Colburn lives, I shall not rest until I bring that focker down! Seriously though, this game is more addictive than crack. And pretty much as bad for you. People get verbally abusive when they're losing.

Somebody explain why she's trying to lick my fo'head?!

I have to post these new pics before they disappear into the depths of my laziness. I still haven't posted the ones from Vegas, and that was back in July! These are from last weekend at Blue Velvet. Five minutes after arriving, a very nice young man bought me one shot of chilled Grey Goose, from which proceeded heavy inebriation and blotchy purple skin for the rest of the night. No joke. I drove home five hours later with an alcohol-induced headache.

Trang and me: five years later, nothing changes.

Seriously, looking at that pic reminds me that my hair is too effin long and gross. I'm so done with this horse-weave. All I want for Christmas from B is his permission to chop that shit off.

Yeah, I know, this isn't a very informative post or anything; I've been exhausted from my full schedule lately. Playing Blokus five hours a day just wears you out! Haha. I'm going to bed. With my gorgeous pit bull. And I get free pizza from Pizza Hut tomorrow. Yeah, top that!

Something's Missing

2008-10-08T00:00:00.000-07:00

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh, plunge me deep in love--put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

-I Am Not Yours, by Sara Teasdale

We Laugh Indoors

2008-09-22T20:57:00.000-07:00

My sense of humor has a pretty wide range. I find amusement in cornball jokes, witty banter, and gross perversions. Especially the gross perversions, snarf snarf. The following are some recent conversations that really stuck out as extremely hilarious, enough for me to make note to blog 'em up later:

8-14-08, internet chat
Trang: im going to write a mission statement later
read it over & over
and stick with it
or u can kill me
hahahah
Bernard: can I anally rape you before killing you?
Trang: ughhh
NO
that
sounds scary
youre a freak
Bernard: ok, I'll just anally rape you AFTER I kill you then

9-3-08, internet chat
me: (looking at a porn site Bernard just told me about) holy mother of GOD http://video.pornorama.com/video31730/Wild_blonde_takes_on_two_enormous_black_cocks
those are the biggest dicks I have EVER seen
that's not even a turn on...that's just...a monstrosity
Phil: not real
me: what?!
prove it
Phil: have you seen a REAL 15-inch penis?
it's very different
i'll show you mine some time

9-6-08, phone call
Me: I just had a $90 meal.
Bernard: What?! And it was Vietnamese food?
Me: Yup.
Bernard: What, did they kill the dog in front of you?
Me: Huh? Oh--shut up!
Bernard: Can you save money by bringing your own dog?

9-21-08, phone call
David: Why are you laughing like that? You did something filthy last night, didn't you? That is a filthy laugh.
Me: (whispers) I got high, and then Bernard gave me three mindblowing orgasms!
David: Wtf?! Man, he's pretty unselfish.
Me: Yeah! And he didn't even give himself one! I vaguely remember asking him, "What about you?" and he replied that he was too tired, and then we both fell asleep.
David: Wow, both of you are unselfish. When I'm in the bedroom, it's all about me me me. In fact, I didn't even know a girl could orgasm!

Fuck Me Pumps

2008-08-20T22:04:00.000-07:00

The Spoofy in Bone, ~~$125~~ $29.94

All Charles by Charles David shoes are a mere $30 at 6pm.com (sister site of Zappos) right now! I currently have all these open browser tabs with shoes, and it's agonizing having to choose among them. And by agonizing, I mean like the "tie me up and never stop spanking that hot ass" kind of excruciating.

The Chuckle in Dark Brown, ~~$279~~ $29.94

The Zora in Black, ~~$142~~ $29.94

And for a little cherry on top, Hard Candy has 75% off the entire site right now. You know you remember the old school nail polishes with the signature jelly rings! Who can say no to value-priced makeup?! (ME. That's who. I have waaay too many products for my face. But you, enjoy. It's a celebration, bitches!)

Vintage Nail Polish $7 $1.75 each

Hot Stuff

2008-08-03T16:37:00.000-07:00

I was browsing Agent Provocateur's 50% off sale, when one of the models caught my eye. Lo and behold, it's the fabulous Maggie Gyllenhaal! I absolutely adore her! Ever since Secretary, one of my all-time favorite movies ever, I have had the utmost respect for her as an actress. (Not to mention two whole wet dreams about James Spader. Oomf.) I love seeing the sexy, sultry side of her. You rock, Mags!

Oh yeah, and her ensemble in the pic? It's called Francois, and the set of bra and panties is a mere $147. Yeah, that's after the 50% discount. Yowza!

Summertime

2008-08-02T16:25:00.000-07:00

I just returned from the madness of my first Six Man tourny over at Manhattan Beach. Good God! It was like Halloween meets Mardi Gras meets a beach blowout. Despite the huge signs all over the city strictly forbidding alcohol on the beach, that stuff was everywhere. Enterprise, where Jen works, had a tent set up and a big cooler of margaritas. Jen proceeded to get her buzz on, while I declined as usual. I did, however, take half a Jello shot when I ran into Charlene, whom I haven't seen in years! She was completely drunk (you can tell because she gets this vacant, vacuous look in her eyes that would be really scary if she weren't so freakin' gorgeous), and told us she'd been giving out her jiggly shots to the ladies if they gave back some jiggly bare chesticles. I promised to come back to ~~flash~~ see her later, but I forgot which booth was hers. Plus it really was so ridiculously crowded that it was a miracle I even found her in the first place.

I'm not really taller than Char. She's on her knees.

Jen milkin' the goodies at the Enterprise tent.

I've been beaching it a lot this summer, which is great. I usually only do that whenever Tomo's in town, since she's the ultimate beach bum. But ever since Brad took me to the Huntington Beach dog beach, I've been all over it. I went there last weekend with Bernard, then again yesterday with my mom and cousin (and, of course, my precious Pumpkin pie).

Momma Ho and Shelby

Look how happy she is in the water! And plus it totally gives her a chance to interact with other dogs, which is so great because she has so few friends (the dog-owners around here are lame; they all back off when they see my pit bull stroll down the street). BTW, the water yesterday was incredibly refreshing, surprisingly clear, and thoroughly enjoyable.

Anyway, I guess the point of this post is just to put up some pics...and to say that summer is definitely my favorite season, and I <3 SoCal.

Supernatural Superserious

2008-07-16T11:41:00.000-07:00

The book I read right after Angry Candy ended up being another sci-fi/fantasy short story collection. I wasn't seeking the genre, but found it by browsing boingboing.net, which happens to have a science fiction author as an editor. The site provided a link to a completely free download of Maureen F. McHugh's Mothers & Other Monsters. Even though I definitely prefer the tangible method of reading by curling in bed with sunflower seeds, digital readings are pretty damn convenient. I had never heard of this author before, and I certainly wouldn't have bought her book, and suddenly within one minute and two clicks, I had her fiction on a PDF file in front of me.

So, is it worth the read? I think you should definitely check it out. Nearly every story had me in awe over her creativity, scratching my head and wondering how the hell anyone could come up with that stuff. (Gotta be some shrooms up in her diet. 'Fess up, McHugh!) My top three of the bunch are Interview: On Any Given Day (its This American Life-like format is ingenious), Nekropolis (splendid visuals) and Laika Comes Back Safe (can't hate a werewolf love story, even with a sucky ending). She certainly has some really interesting stuff. However, I have to admit that I just wasn't that into it. I couldn't really get into any of the characters, and then even with the long-ass stories that did draw me in, the tale would be so bleak that I'd just be pissed that I had to read all that and not even get a happy ending. The worst one was The Cost to Be Wise, hands down. Ugh! But whatever, it's free! And you can read it at work and no one would know it! Ah, man, I spoil you guys.

Who Are You

2008-07-11T01:40:00.000-07:00

I shut down my Friendster page, so I'm going to put the pictures here or else they'll disappear forever. Which wouldn't be so terrible, come to think of it. After all, these are the sluttiest of the social-networking bunch; it went from Lesbo-Makeout-Whore on Friendster, to Still-Somewhat-Skanky on Myspace, to Nerdy-McBookworm (right?) on Facebook. All are legitimate aspects of my character, but I just feel that as I get older it becomes less appropriate to bare it all to the public. But these pix really are the last of their kind; over the years I've broken and lost laptops, and when you don't "back up," losing files and memories just comes with the territory. Since I've pilfered them directly off Friendster, the quality's going to be God-awful.

The reason this pic is so teeny is because I resized it for my LiveJournal icon. Now it's the only copy I have left in the world to remind me of one of the craziest nights of debauchery ever. At least, I think it was that night. It was definitely at Rob's house (Filipino Rob, not Abercrombie Rob), probably during the summer of 2002. We had a lot of crazy nights that involved partying, drugs, and making out. See, I've always been a horny bitch, but I've never been able to give it up to just anyone. I have to care about and like the person a lot to spread my legs. In spite of that, I still made some pretty dumb choices. But that's for some other entry, some other day. So I'd just do my fair share of kissing as a sad substitute for sex. That's Tomo (on the right) and me, back when she had super short locks.

Good GOD. I went semi-blond for a summer. It was one time (ok, ok, twice if you count that I went back to do the roots a few weeks later), and it'll never happen again, I swear! I can't even remember when this was taken, but I'm thinking summer of 2003? I believe this was at a house party, but my memory fails to provide any other details. Look how thin my eyebrows were! Blech!

Ok, my best guess for this is early 2000's, but that's all I can tell you. This is Kelly (on the right) and me, and I think this was at her Jamba Juice coworker's house in Manhattan Beach. Renee, another girl and coworker, was there along with the guy whose parents owned the house. None of us were attracted to him (except maybe Renee?) so I have no idea why the hell Kelly and I are gargling one another's tonsils. It wasn't for attention, and it wasn't because we were hot for one another (we're best friends!) so go figure. I know I was buzzed, and maybe she was drunk, so that's probably what did it. Heh. I remember when I posted this, I made it black and white because my face was redonkulously red from the alcohol.

I totally remember this shot of Trang (on the right) and me. This was done purely for attention; it was the summer (either '02 or '03) we met a group of cute ass mofos from Idaho (Iowa?) living next door to Rob. We were both hung up on assholes who never could, and never would, make us happy, so these boys were a welcome distraction. So we kissed each other and played it up for the whooping fellas. I ended up making out with the hottest one on the very first night, while Trang snagged herself the other hottie of the crew. Good times.

So there you have it. Putting it on my blog is like recording it for posterity ("Look all the hot bitches mommy used to bag! Can you say vagina?"). These pictures are no longer just out there on a single page, one click away for anyone to see. But yeah, I do have a soft spot for Friendster--it's how Bernard found me years later after our initial meeting! Before I closed the account, I tried to save the very first message he sent me. Unfortunately, Friendster had wiped out the info. Bastards. Speaking of B, someone has stolen his pictures on Myspace. Some girl was browsing and saw the other guy, then did a double-take when she found the real B only a few moments later. She was nice enough to send him a message with the link. How creepy is that?!

21 Questions

2008-07-07T08:58:00.000-07:00

Alright, I'm squeezing in one more blog, and then I'm going to sleep until 5pm. A few of us leftover from those Abercrombie days reunited last week for Robby. Jesus, how did a whole week pass already?! I meant to blog about it that very night! Anyway, Robby had an 11hr layover in LA, en route from South Korea to Michigan. We all got together and headed to the beach, grabbing dinner at Hennessey's on the Hermosa Strand. (My "Moo Cluck Oink Burger" was divine: fried egg, bacon, and cheddar cheese on top of the fluffiest, juiciest meat.) I hardly ever see these guys, but every time I do, it ends up being the most hilarious, utterly twisted, and thoroughly enjoyable time ever.

It was sunset, so the light was fading. Me and Rob.

So allow me to introduce my boys:
Chuck: Former coworker at A&F, who is a finance whiz and got me an almost 40% return on my investment--during these bearish times! Mad Money fanatic, typical yuppie, Howard Stern devotee, all tied together with a surprisingly good heart (he's from the South, ya'll).
Robby: Former manager at A&F, who is credited for initially bringing everyone together for good times. Avid blogger, voracious writer, and a hopelessly horny romantic. Plans on marrying his gf back home...then again, he says that about every girl he falls for, lol.
Rick: Former coworker turned manager at A&F, he's the reason I was able to stay on payroll and get the 30% discount without ever really working. Basketballer, working on his Master's, and also a hopelessly horny romantic. Rollercoaster of a love life lately, telenovela-style!

The Dorks (L to R): Chuck, Robby, Rick

So they like to play a game called "Would You Rather," which originated in the stores during closing time when the pounding, throbbing music would be turned off, and the eery silence looming over the employees folding clothes would force them to probe into the dark corners of their minds. Typical guy shit would be the grossest stuff you could conjure up, while girls would usually ask, "Would you rather date her...or her? [giggle]" Robby is disturbingly good at this game. "Would you rather take a double shot of heavy flow...oooooooor...take a double shot of really thick spooge? Would you rather give a blow job to a male dog oooooooor go down on a female one?" (The guys unanimously agreed to gobble canine carpet.) Seriously, when these guys get together, it's like an explosion of perverted wit and quips.

Rick: Would you rather get anal raped by a homeless guy with AIDS...except that his dick has spikes...oooooooor--
Rob: What do you mean spikes? Like, thorns?
Rick: Yeah. So not only are you getting AIDS, but you're getting torn up. Oooooor, you get a sex change operation.
Rob: Oh shit. That's a hard one. Uhm...I'd pick the homeless guy.
Me: Really?!
Rob: Yeah! I could probably survive AIDS; I don't want to go through life with a vagina!

Rob: Would you rather be in a room with your parents and have to finger your grandma without anyone knowing, oooooooor be at a family reunion with all your extended family, everyone, and have to give a blow job to Rick on a stage?
Chuck: I'd finger Grandma and tell everyone about it!

Later, after Megan (the girl Rick is dating) left, Rick and Chuck were on my case because I had gushed about her attractiveness.

Chuck: You totally want her, don't you?
Me: I don't want her, but I think she's really pretty.
Rick: Ok, but would you do anything with her? If you had the chance?
Me: [shrug] Probably.
Rick: That is messed up.
Me: What?!
Rick: I would never go behind your back and hook up with Bernard...again. I would never again sleep with him behind your back!

Haha. I love those losers.

Stellar

2008-07-07T08:24:00.000-07:00

So it's now a mere three and a half hours since I went to sleep. My sister came home after a night of drama and reiterated it, loudly, at 7:30am to her friend. It woke me up and I started listening in; by the time she was done I was completely mentally alert. So I shuffled out of bed and made the most delicious breakfast: three organic free-range eggs, two pieces of Ralph's brand (so not good) bacon, a handful of crimini mushrooms, two pieces of sourdough bread, and a cup of blood-orange soda. I'm still awake, so I might as well get on with catching up on blogging the books I've been reading.

I first heard of Harlan Ellison only last year, when he was mentioned in this fascinating article by Josh Olson, the writer of A History of Violence. Olson tells the true story of an insane internet predicament that happened to his friend; it's pretty crazy and worth the read. I looked up Ellison afterwards, and discovered that he's known mainly for his sci-fi short stories. Now, while I'm not a big sci-fi fan (it's hard to relate to characters when they're living on the planet Goober of the 62nd dimension), I happen to love short stories. How can I be adverse to something that often packs as strong a punch as a novel, but for only a fraction of the length?!

Plus, you're way more likely to find short stories posted up on a webpage somewhere, for instant gratification. Unfortunately, from my brief research, Mr. Ellison seems to have a reputation for being a bit of a pompous ass, and is very tenacious when it comes to tracking down and destroying any distributed work of his over the internet. However, he was gracious enough to share a couple of stories, Susan and Paladin of the Lost Hour. The moment I read those, I knew I had to read more. So I did more research and ordered Angry Candy, apparently his most acclaimed collection of short stories.

Like I said, I'm not a sci-fi kind of gal...but some of these tales were so beautifully rendered that the whole fantasy element didn't even detract from my enjoyment. My top three are On the Slab (so wrenching that I can't even bring myself to reread it), Paladin, and the vividly entertaining Quicktime. The weirdest shit was The Region Between; I have never encountered a short story as wacky as that one. But mostly, it's just a really well-written collection, powerfully paired with an incredible imagination. If this is sci-fi, it's good shit, and I wouldn't mind getting in on more of it.

Lolli Lolli

2008-07-07T04:34:00.000-07:00

YES! I finally found my camera charger, so I was able to upload some new/old pix. I think we all agree it's time to retire this one from Myspace, because I'm freaking 25 years old and, let's face it, publicly whoring it up just ain't cute anymore. I will, however, leave it here along with some details. This was taken October of 2006, during Nancy's 25th birthday bash at Tao in Vegas. I had one shot of Grey Goose, half a mimosa, and I was tossed. Since I rarely get shitfaced, Bernard used it fully to his advantage, and eagerly snapped pics of me and Nance making out. Soon after, she began hurling into the champagne bucket. I took one look, desperately attempted to gulp down the bile, then shoved her aside to project my own vomit into the mix. Yeah, boy! I've got the sexiest stories on the street! Don't make me break out my baby bathtub shots!

I should also take down those hoochie pix on my Friendster from baaaack in the day. Dude, I should just shut down that account. I haven't checked it in years. I'll do that later. My sleeping schedule has been effed lately. It's starting to have an effect on my disposition. I had to play with myself twice today just to get some homework done! (Jaime Pressly's softcore stint in the Poison Ivy series never lets me down. Oomf!) But I have a good excuse for being so nocturnal, seriously! I don't want to talk about it too much though, because I'm afraid to jinx it. Let's just wait and see what happens; it's at that beginning stage where it could go either way. But I really haven't felt this giddy in quite some time now. >_<

One Step at a Time

2008-06-18T21:35:00.000-07:00

I just made "Cold Avocado Soup" from my recipe book, and it seriously took me five minutes!! Now it just needs to chill in the fridge for a few hours. Man, this cooking thing is awesome. I haven't mentioned it, but back in February, I made my very first quiche. Quiche is B's specialty; last year for my birthday I specifically requested he make one because we hadn't had it in so long. Well, now I make my own, and I've made about seven or eight ever since then! I mean, this is seriously my very first real cooked dish! I've only ever made eggs and sandwiches, nothing that involved baking or whatever. I even took pictures of my quiche; I was so proud. But I can't find the charger for my camera right now, and it won't turn on, so I'm just using a stock pic I found off the internet.

So after five months of repeating (but not yet perfecting) and devouring the same dish, I finally decided to get on trying something new. A couple of weeks ago, I tried making "Open-Faced Crab Sandwiches," but the crab mix turned out God-awful. Come to think of it, it's still sitting there in the fridge. Oops. Anyway, I just now made the soup, and tomorrow I'm attempting my first pasta: bow-tie with shrimp and pesto. I personally would've preferred linguine or fettuccine, but since I'm new to this whole "making your own food" thing, I'm going to stick to the recipe. Our beautiful kitchen is actually more useful than just being aesthetically pleasing. Who knew?!

Free Your Mind

2008-06-18T21:04:00.000-07:00

Suh-weet! I just found a deal for a one year subscription (6 issues 'cause it's bimonthly) price of $17.95 to Mental Floss--and my last issue (pictured) just came in the mail yesterday. It says it's a limited time offer, but this post was from 2006, and the link still works. This magazine is so worth it! The two times I've brought a copy up to the salon, it was stolen within two days. Even Trang loves it, and she's one of those solely US Weekly and People bitches. Check out their blog some time; it's a great indication of the type and tone of articles you receive in the mag. Three recent articles I found noteworthy (among many) are "Mutual Funds to Match Your Lifestyle" (link), "7 Imposters" (link), and "7 Works of Art That Are Taking a Beating" (link). Because this is where knowledge junkies get their fix.

Shut Up

2008-06-17T22:27:00.000-07:00

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!
Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.

-Love's Secret, by William Blake

The Impression That I Get

2008-06-17T21:47:00.000-07:00

My only prior exposure to Henry James was Daisy Miller: A Study, practically a requirement in every English Lit anthology. I didn't find it anything too special, so I wasn't expecting much from The Portrait of a Lady, hailed by many as his greatest masterpiece. Yeah. How can I put this? His writing is entirely extraordinary. I could sit here and gush for hours about how his way with words is exquisitely eloquent and magnificently molded. If you're more about substance than style, this is not the book for you. James wrote in over 600 pages a story which arguably could be told in less than 100. It's as if he took a small subplot from a more complex storyline, and diluted it with dreamy details and diaphanous descriptions. Even more infuriating for the average reader, it's like he then decided there was no point in providing a proper conclusion to the subplot, since it was part of a much larger tale anyway. So be warned, it's one of those open-ended stories. I've almost always loathed those, but this time I was so in awe of the author that I barely minded.

I really don't think I've ever encountered his style of writing before. The entire time I was reading it, a persistent metaphor kept popping into my head: an impressionist painting. It's a little lame to say, and I don't know why I kept thinking that--it's not like I'm an art connoisseur. But you know how Monet's vanilla skies are all gorgeously hazy and luminously blurred, intent on offering an impression instead of a sharp picture? That's how Henry James writes! Instead of saying, "Well, he turned out to be very different from what she first believed," he writes, "In that sense, that of the love of harmony and order and decency and of all the stately offices of life, she went with him freely, and his warning had contained nothing ominous. But when, as the months had elapsed, she had followed him further and he had led her in to the mansion of his own habitation, then, then she had seen where she really was." Oh, baby. Just you wait! This introspective inspection continues for many, many more pages. But if you can stare at Monet's lush landscapes for hours, don't be surprised if you fall for the wondrous works of Henry James.

Claude Monet, Woman with a Parasol, 1875

Enjoy the Silence

2008-06-16T23:33:00.000-07:00

B is currently in Europe for the next three weeks. He's sort of playing this excursion by ear, but most likely it's Paris, Ireland, possibly Birmingham, a quick visit to the fam in Belgium, Malta, and finally Spain. I. Am. So. Jealous. If the Malta trip goes through, he will be staying a couple nights at the The Westin and then a couple nights at The Hilton--both five-star resorts. And since this is for work, everything is on the company tab. For the past couple of weeks leading up to this, I'd constantly whine, "I want to goooo...!!" His reply? "Maybe if you were my girlfriend!" Bastard.

The Westin Dragonara Resort

What sets this outing apart from the others, besides the fact that he'll be frolicking in an uber lux Mediterranean paradise, is that we've decided to cut off all contact. Keep in mind that B and I are total communication whores. Ever since we got together, there have been exactly five days when we didn't speak at all to one another (yes, shut up, I keep track). Well, that excludes his trip to Brazil in 2005, and last Christmas when he was in a remote Swiss cabin. We abuse our mobile-to-mobile minutes, typically speaking five times a day, although it reduces to one or two times when he's abroad. Yeah, that includes this whole time that we've been broken up. Once he was spanked by his boss for calling me too much overseas, tallying up the company cell phone bill to $2000. We talk on the phone on the way to one another's places, and then get on the phone immediately upon leaving each other's place.

The Hilton Malta

It might sound nuts to most people, but I love it. However, I suggested a talking break because I really think it'd be good for us. What triggered it was B's last work trip two weeks ago, when he was in Mexico. We spent most of our time arguing and feeling crappy. I do not need a repeat of that. Plus, it'll give us time to miss each other! I wanted to do this for the entire three weeks, but Bernard made a good point that he's going to have to call me when he's with his family, or else they'll wonder what's up with us. Plus I still have to give him my shopping list, teehee. Foie gras, chocolate, souvenir mugs (I've started a collection, funded by B), an oiled up Mediterranean man, candy, and Spanish salami. Oomf.

Images of Malta

Oh yeah, and Isaac and I aren't on speaking terms for the moment, and over something really stupid, too. I'm just going to give a quick summary; otherwise my blood will start boiling over it again. (I admit it; one of my many faults is that I can't debate without getting emotionally involved. Trust me, it sucks.) Basically, he completely overreacted and started going off on me over the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. No, scratch that. That's giving the guy waaaay too much credit. He went off on me because I sent him a link (this one) to an article about a 70 year old Palestinian shepherd and his 58 year old wife getting the crap beat out of them by four Jewish assholes. Look, I don't care what ethnicity you are; if you're wielding bats to elderly goat herders, you are a fucking asshole. He could have been rational and said, "Wow, that's awful, but you have to understand that..." and pleaded his case. Instead, he started spewing a whole bunch of racist shit about Arabs, ranted about the BBC's preferential views of Palestine, insisted he had zero sympathy for the victims (that's attractive), and told me off for being biased and affronting his people. Unbelievable! Yeah, I'm just gonna end this now because this might lead to me ranting about how idiotic and close-minded he is, which'll probably lead to me generalizing all conservatives, which'll make me no better than Isaac, that idiotic and close-minded conservative!!

Time to Pretend

2008-05-14T13:59:00.000-07:00

Faceinhole.com is a nifty little website where you can put someone's face, well, in a hole. (Unfortunately, the hole I'm referring to neither smells nor oozes. I know, those are my favorite, too!) I love the surprisingly easy functionality, the numerous templates ranging from sexy to silly, and the thorough amusement provided--despite the whole thing being an absolute waste of time. That's Bernard in both of the examples displayed. I also took the liberty of replacing Angelina Jolie with my cheesy mug. Yeah. You're welcome. You never had it so good!

Damaged

2008-05-14T01:52:00.000-07:00

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov’d — I lov’d alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

-Alone, by Edgar Allan Poe

Wear You Out

2008-05-13T14:45:00.000-07:00

LR Delia Snakeskin in Taupe $430

Loeffler Randall has recently branched out into boots and clothing, but what really started it all for the brand were the beautifully crafted, astronomically priced flats. One pair could cut you back 300+ dollars, but when you'd slip one on, you'd feel where that money goes (lining the pockets of the smirking company, duh). Then you'd cry into your Forever 21 shopping bag because paying that much for shoes that don't even have a 24K gold stiletto heel or splashy red soles just hurts. Which is why I've never owned any of their stuff. Until Target!

Thank you, Target. Thank you for your brilliant Go International campaign, for putting cheap fabrics into the hands of world-famous designers to make attire for the regular folks. You have brought fashion to the poor, ugly masses, and for that, we are eternally grateful. And now, it gets even better. Because Target's Loeffler Randall collection, already cheap from the start, is currently 75% off. Oh, happy day!

These satchels were originally priced at $49.99. Now, they're only $12.49! I ordered both colors, and I'm just going to keep one. I'll probably give the other one to my mom. For a rich lady, she tends to walk around lugging plastic bags like the world's a perpetual flea market. This should spice up her outfit a bit, and it's probably cheaper than some of those hideously printed fabric bags she carries on occasion!

I bought those black ballet flats full price when this collection first debuted, and I haven't even worn them yet! I should've just waited, because they've dropped from $29.99 to $7.49. So with that in mind, I had to order the pink pair on the bottom. I love them. I love them! I don't care if B hates flats! Seven forty-nine! I should buy more, but I'm being realistic here. I bought the black pair back in January and haven't worn them, so I'm not going to go crazy with all the different colors and styles. I'll leave that to you.

Last but not least, all the clutches are now $4.99, instead of $19.99. Five freakin' dollars for some of the cutest stuff ever! But the only one I indulged in was the woven clutch in cream, which I'll probably return because the reviews aren't that great, and I've never seen them in person at the store. We'll see how it goes when everything arrives in the mail. Go spoil yourselves with some $7 flats, bitches!

Shake It Off

2008-05-05T01:49:00.000-07:00

I just returned from spending the day hanging out with Isaac and Pumpkin. I decided that I had to break things off; to keep seeing each other would be pointless and somewhat detrimental. Our beliefs are at complete opposite ends of the spectrum--he's a hardcore, conservative Jew who supports the war and thinks global warming is a hoax, while I'm a bleeding liberal/pacifist who scorns organized religion and digs through trash for bits to recycle. He's a neat-freak to the OCD degree; I'm a sheepish slob. He takes dozens of vitamins a day and is a gym buff; I consider fast food a dietary staple and hardly ever move from bed. I'm surprised we tolerated one another for as long as we did. Plus, the guy has been living in LA and has no social life; the only real new friend he has made is me. One friend. In six months. Having me around is seriously preventing him from breaking out of his loner tendencies to make connections with new people. I really hope that this'll motivate him to go out and mingle!

That being said, Isaac really is a wonderful guy. He handled the demise of our dating like a champ. Sure, it's a bit early to say, but I really think we'll be able to stay good friends. (Then again, I'm always naively optimistic in these situations.) If you can stomach his political stance, or even, God forbid, uphold them, then you've got yourself a catch. He's an affectionate sweetheart, a dork complete with corny but funny jokes, an animal lover (he's so good to Pumpkin), an ambitiously hard worker, a knowledgeable history buff (these photos were taken while he was answering my query of why such anti-Semitic views exist--a daunting question to undertake!), an expert with computers, and a caring and helpful friend. He speaks fluent Russian, writes extremely well, talks to his grandmothers on a nearly daily basis, and has a degree from UCSC in Islamic History. He's awesome...just not the one for me. If anyone's interested, holla and I will hook it up!

Haha, in that last pic, Pumpkin did a lick and run. Man, so I guess I'm pretty much single right now! It feels...nice? Look, don't expect eloquence and profundity from a post written at 2am after a somewhat emotionally draining event. I guess I made it sound all breezy, but I really had to muster up a lot of courage to finally blurt out my feelings. Break-ups are never easy, but this one was the smoothest one ever. What a relief! Happy Cinco de Mayo! I'm freeeeeeeeeee!!

L.E.S. Artistes

2008-05-02T19:29:00.000-07:00

Ok, let's see how many blogs I can squeeze in right now. If I can do one more after this one, I'll feel pretty accomplished. I really should be showering 'cause I'm durty-durty, but B hasn't called yet so I think he's still getting drunk at McCormick & Schmick's happy hour. Anyway, remember my blog about Shopbop's amazing sale, and how I was supposed to get all up on that? I didn't end up buying anything from there! However, what I did manage to procure makes me 10x happier than any dress that would've hung up in my closet for eons.

See, what happened was, I really couldn't decide which color of the KZ dress to buy. So I called up B's European, fashion-conscious ass, because I value his opinion. He was in Ireland at the time, but luckily right by his laptop. Well, he proceeded to just bitch me out. "What is this?! It's so ugly! It looks like a curtain! There's no form to it at all! Why do you always insist on wearing fat girl clothes?! You cannot buy this." While I completely disagreed, and while I still think that dress is cute, I couldn't stomach purchasing it, knowing how much he hated it. After all, I haven't bought one stitch of brown clothing in the past three years because B deems the hue unflattering on me!

However, my disappointment dissipated when I checked my email right after we got off the phone. A few days earlier, I had made an inquiry to Gallery 1988 in San Francisco regarding their Stella Im Hultberg mini print set. I didn't think they would have any left, but the email reassured me that plenty were still available. I placed an order right then and there, before I could change my mind. I'm so stoked! I received four beautiful 4x5 prints for about $96 shipped:

Aren't they stunning?! They're signed and a limited edition of 500. I'm pretty sure there are some left, too! So, instead of clothes, I bought some art, and I'm pretty darn pleased with my purchase. I'm going to close out this post with a couple of my favorite pieces from her last solo show:

Lost Unfound

Vera

P.S. I Love You

2008-05-02T18:31:00.000-07:00

Dre gave me this book last Christmas, Other People's Love Letters, which I believe she found in some artsy shop in San Francisco. The last book she gave me was Jenna Jameson's autobiography, so let's just say she knows how to pick 'em. When I finally opened it up, I happened to be PMSing. Bad move. I ended up bawling throughout most of it, and being in a pretty dark mood afterwards. For one thing, a good number of the "love" letters were actually breakup notes! "I dreamt about passing over this bridge so many times. I want you back so bad. Part of me is fighting for that. The other part is struggling to forget but wanting to remember the first time. In Detroit. I touched your face." Ok, so it isn't bloody Shakespeare, but it's enough to get a hormonal bitch going, ok?

The book covers a pretty wide and varied selection, ranging from horny little Post-It notes, to a handwritten letter from 1911, to harsh and wordy emails. But still, I closed it with the lingering feeling of dissatisfaction. It just wasn't nearly enough to cover the scope of something as grand as love, and I know I'm being unfair with such high expectations. But there is one thing pretty cool about my particular copy, though. You know how with the PostSecret books, there's a trend of people slipping in their own secrets on postcards in book stores? Somebody put a little note in this book! Unfortunately, they didn't complete it. So here's all I have, and I'll leave it open to interpretation:

Realize

2008-04-30T10:55:00.000-07:00

Coming at an end, the lovers

Are exhausted like two swimmers. Where
Did it end? There is no telling. No love is
Like an ocean with the dizzy procession of the waves' boundaries
From which two can emerge exhausted, nor long goodbye
Like death.
Coming at an end. Rather, I would say, like a length
Of coiled rope
Which does not disguise in the final twists of its lengths
Its endings.
But, you will say, we loved
And some parts of us loved
And the rest of us will remain
Two persons. Yes,
Poetry ends like a rope.

-A Book of Music, by Jack Spicer

If I Had Eyes

2008-04-29T12:40:00.000-07:00

When Isaac grabbed this book off his shelf to distract me while he did some work, he preambled it by stating, "My father gave it to me." Recalling that his dad is a doctor, I took one look at The Secret Family: Twenty-Four Hours inside the Mysterious World of Our Minds and Bodies and inwardly sighed. I knew this was going to be one of those excruciatingly boring human science books, the kind only medical students entering residency or super-nerds with thick glasses and no social lives eagerly devour. And while I may arguably fall into the latter category, I've always been the type of dweeb more focused on Shakespeare's severing clouds laced with envious streaks (Romeo and Juliet) than Gray's Anatomy (the text, not the TV series, which I bought and tried to read and failed miserably).

Anyway, it shouldn't be surprising that I was absolutely wrong about this book. After a somewhat asinine intro, the book jumped straight into jaw-dropping, fascinating, "for real? I had no idea!" territory. I kept reading aloud compelling passages to Isaac (who hasn't read about, oh, 99% of his book collection), and screeching, "Did you know that!? Isnt that crazy?!" The very first fact I encountered that piqued my interest was about what happens when a father's eyes meet his baby's gaze: "the tiny muscles controlling the pupils in the dad's eyes suddenly tug wider. Males who don't have children rarely show this universal sign of interest." However, it happens to most women, mothers or not. Then that led to a whole section on how baby food is prepared, which sparked both disbelief and horror. If this were truly the case, why hasn't there been more of an uproar about this? The stuff he describes warrants a massive reform akin to the one incited by Upton Sinclair's The Jungle in the early 20th century.

What was also really impressive was the book's collection of photographs. I had never seen any of them before, and they're truly stunning pictures revealing normal objects in a mindblowing point of view. The back of a smooth CD zoomed in so you see the nooks (bet you didn't know it had nooks!). A close-up of sweat droplets on the back of a hairy hand. A bed mite in its magnified glory, creeping and crawling and waiting to eat your dead skin cells. Ok, I can't find any of these pictures online, but luckily dust mites are pretty fascinating for most people and some other good pictures exist out there:

Ewwwwwww. Seriously, this book is awesome. You won't be sorry if you pick it up. But you might end up learning a few things that will make it a little harder to rub your face lovingly against your favorite pillow at night.

Don't Stop the Music

2008-04-17T00:36:00.000-07:00

A quick blurb of songs that I'm completely fixated on at the moment:

Lil Wayne - Lollipop
When I first heard this, his first solo single in forever, I seriously was far from impressed. It barely even sounded like him! But then, after hearing it just once more, I became more addicted than Tyrone Biggums. Every time it comes on the radio, I start squealing. I love him. I really think he's amazingly talented. Sure, he's hideous, but who needs good looks when you've got a showstopping voice? (Marc Anthony's comparably fugly, and he impregnated JLo!) I'm going to be so sad next week when this song gets killed by radio overplay. Listen to this unique, irresistible jam on my "Feeling Frisky?" playlist on the right, or check out the music video on Youtube.

M83 - Kim & Jessie
I love this song! Besides my name being in the title, I also really think it's gorgeously fun, and quite different from their other moodily beautiful pieces. It has this 80's vibe, but the lush singing and lyrics add this magical quality to it. The CD just came out, and someone on Youtube made a video for it with scenes from Donnie Darko, so I'm going to provide it here.

Sun Kil Moon - Lost Verses
GOD. My favorite band ever, and Mark's back, baby. The last album was all covers of Modest Mouse songs (my favorite is the first one on my "Feeling Wistful" playlist, Neverending Math Equation), and while it was lovely, nothing compares to original Mark Kozelek lyrics:
'I see you well and clear
Deep in the moonlight, dear
Your radiant august eyes
They are the suns that rise
They are the light that guides
They are these lost verses'
This song, the opening track of their new CD, is absolutely stunning. This is classic Kozelek: haunting, hapless, and heartbreaking. I could only find it on their Myspace (it's the first song), since they never do music videos. But you have to be in the right mood to listen, and the right time. I'd say around midnight, surrounded by fog, while forlornly clutching a distant memory.

Stop and Stare

2008-04-01T11:15:00.000-07:00

I've been a Shopbop fan for several years now. This is the first time I've seen them give out a code for an additional 30% off their sale items (30MORE). The true extent of this economy has just now fully hit me. Bear Stearns can go crashing down in value, the real estate market can implode, gas and food can rise to astronomical proportions--nope, it's all nothing compared to Shopbop trying desperately to liquidate their inventory. This isn't an April Fool's Day joke, people. It's real. It's happening. God help us.

Well, I'm going to do my part to fight this looming recession--by shopping! And I'm going to highlight some of the cutest stuff I found. However, in the interest of saving time and our wallets, I'm only showing items under $50. I know! Shopbop hardly ever has stuff under $50, and I managed to find a handful of adorable wares! Naturally, the nicest apparel is all still over $100, but I'm pretty impressed with being able to find a satisfactory selection in such a low price range. These things go fast though, so don't be surprised if everything is sold out by the time you start searching. Oh, and free shipping! Gotta love that!

C&C California Tonal Dots Bold Tank: Yes, just a basic tank top but with polka dots! I heart polka dots, so much that I can almost comprehend why Damien Hirst's spot paintings can command over a million bucks apiece, despite the fact that the guy has done almost a thousand of them! But I digress. ~~$48~~ $16.80

Parballe Keyhole Tee: I really dig this t-shirt! It's not cute enough to justify the original retail price, but it comes close. The metallic print rocks, and I adore extra touches like the embroidered keys on the upper back of the tee. The semi-sheer quality is nice too. ~~$99~~ $20.79

Miki Tanaka Square Rings: Aren't these gorgeous? I never buy jewelry because I'm prone to losing them within 24 hours, but this is really tempting. I love how unique they are; they seem both delicately wrought and solidly designed. My favorite is the one that dangles, but that shit would snap off in no time. I have really bad luck when it comes to keeping around my accessories. ~~$176~~ $36.96 (#2)

KZ Jersey Drape Cowl Neck Dress: Oomf. Last Christmas, I helped Phil pick out a KZ dress for Jade, one that I absolutely adored. Then in February, it went on sale. I mulled for twenty minutes, and it sold out under my very nose. While this dress isn't as cute as the one that got away, I do like it, and I'll be damned if I let it get sold out again! But I can't decide what color! Green isn't really my hue, but it looks so good on the model that it's fooling me into believing I could pull it off. I love the gray, but it's spring now! Decisions, decisions. ~~$187~~ $39.27

T-Bags Solid Turtleneck Open Back Mini Dress: T-Bags usually has some crazy prints going on with their clothes, stuff a boring person such as myself can never wear. So it's a pleasant surprise to see they've made what would be a basic closet staple (turtleneck dress), but with a sexy twist. While I love the concept of open back apparel, I don't own any such items. Why not? Because I like being able to comfortably wear a bra. I don't want to have to go out and buy those bras that paste to each boob. Still, every time I see bare-back stuff, I want it. ~~$202~~ $42.42

Mr. Pink Eyes

2008-03-24T14:23:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, Bernard had one of the "gnarliest" cases of pink eye anyone I know has ever seen. He seriously looked like one of the infected from 28 Days Later. It started in one eye, and soon traveled to the other one. It was pretty gross. I mean, I've had conjunctivitis in the past, but it always went away overnight. Who knew that pink eye could fester in the retinas for an average of 7-10 days?! Plus, the eye usually displays a somewhat rosy hue, hence the name. B's eyes were a demonic, glowing shade of crimson.

Hollywood movie magic eyes

Over the weekend, he was supposed to go out with his friends, but nixed the idea. I thought he was overreacting--but then again, I chose to stay in because my skin was super pimply, so who was I to criticize? Then I saw the damage myself, heard his stories of public reaction, and acknowledged his legitimacy for isolation. I mean, his coworkers were recoiling in horror all week, while his roommates made some really ~~funny~~ mean comments. In another instance, he went to the store to buy stuff, and the cashier refused to bag his items! Poor baby! I couldn't help laughing at him even as I shuddered and demanded he look away every time he flashed his pulsating peepers in my direction. We ended up staying in all weekend and watching three movies (Gone Baby Gone, Michael Clayton, and Eastern Promises--all amazing and I highly recommend them).

infected in real life eyes

See, I told you. Gross. But he's fully recovered now. For a moment there, I kept insisting that it couldn't possibly be pink eye, because it was so intense. He said he'd wake up and his lids would be stuck together from all the shit his eyes would ooze throughout the night. Sexy! Whatever, don't feel too bad for him; the jerk has been clowning on my face ever since I started breaking out all hardcore (for a couple of months now). It could be karma for dumping him, haha. But seriously, what is going on!? I hit puberty over a decade ago! I would try a new skin care routine, but the last time I did that, Murad's Acne Complex fucked up my skin so badly that I swore to never cheat on Proactiv Solution again. I think it's calming down a bit, so I'll stick to it for another few months (especially since I just bought a new kit, haha). I suppose having a nice complexion just isn't in the cards for me.

Soak Up the Sun

2008-03-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

Now, three weeks later, I'm going to write about Part II of my birthday, which was when I went kayaking. I know, I'm so freaking behind when it comes to blogging. Anyway, on the Sunday of my birthday weekend, I started with brunch at Bake 'n Broil with Isaac and Kristin (who had to cut her month of backpacking through Europe short because she fractured her ankle in Rome). We had a nice meal and caught up on some chit chat. Kristin couldn't come along because she was still dependent on crutches and her dad raised a ruckus about her being out on the water, so we bid her goodbye and dashed over to the beach at 2nd St.

Isaac the Jellyfish Slayer

Of course, we were the last to arrive, although I do admit everyone tried to be a good sport about it since it was my birthday, haha. I was hoping that since Isaac is a bodybuilder in the making, he would do most--if not all--of the work. I imagined sprawling out with my hands stretched behind my head, idly pointing out the picturesque properties of Naples Island, laughing carelessly with friends, while the muscular Jewish laborer behind me did all the propelling and sweating. Nope! That jackass turned all personal trainer mode on me, and pushed me to move my paddle faster than a Jedi knight wielding his lightsaber during the Battle of Yavin. To top it off, he killed a jellyfish! We went to the jellyfish cove, and he proceeded to lift one out of the water and place it on his knee. By the time he dropped it back into the water, it was the saddest blob ever.

But the weather was gorgeous, the area was beautiful, and the company was great. Phil, Matt, Jade and Sabrina drove up from San Diego to join us! And Trang, Sekina and Chris were really nice about being the only prompt ones and having to wait again for everyone else to arrive. By the time we started rowing back towards shore, the sun was beginning to set and it started getting a bit cold. We spent a little under two hours out in the water, and it cost each couple $25. It was a damn fine way to spend an afternoon, and the hiking/kayaking combo was a damn great way to turn 25 years old!

Your Letter

2008-03-18T22:40:00.000-07:00

I know I'm a total geek, because I am super excited about this nifty little promo offered by HBO and the US Postal Service. To market the John Adams miniseries starring Paul Giamatti (love him!), they're allowing everyone to mail out one greeting card for free. Ok, I know, even without having to pay for postage, most of you still wouldn't bother sitting down, writing out a letter and sending it by snail mail. But, as you can see from the pics I've provided, the cards are so adorable!

Here's how it works, for those of you who still need convincing. Click on the link and go to "customize and send a free John Adams greeting card." You can choose your design, pick a quote, and even add your own pictures to the inside if you want! Then they send it to you for free, so you can write out a message. Then, you get to mail it out to whomever you want for free! Come on!

I read somewhere that over the course of John Adams and his wife Abigail's correspondence, they wrote over 1000 letters to one another, most of which became indispensable to the director as he was making the miniseries. An email can't possibly compare to a tangible, handwritten note. Honestly, when was the last time you sent one? HBO and USPS are hooking you up, so get on it!

Dirty Little Secret

2008-03-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

If you want to read the book to find out what 'the secret' is, then skip this post. If you want to be privy to this fiercely guarded tenet of new-age belief, then look no further. And if you've already read it or seen the movie (or...ran a simple Google search), then allow me to commemorate on it. The secret is the Law of Attraction, which states that "like attracts like, and when you think and feel what you want to attract on the inside, the law will use people, circumstances and events to magnetize what you want." So if you're bogged down by negative thoughts, your life will be filled with negative occurrences. However, if you go around thinking happy thoughts, the world is your smorgasbord, and you can pig out to your heart's content. Want that sprawling mansion with the Ferrari Enzo? Envision it in your head for a while, and--poof!--it's yours. Want to restore your failing eyesight? Spend several months focusing--don't forget to truly believe!--and ye shall receive. Those are their examples, not mine!

My own thoughts vacillated between mostly thinking, "What is this bullshit?! This is a joke, right?" to "Heh. That sounds doable. I could try that." I mean, the book is trying to improve your life. Nothing wrong with that. Start thinking happy thoughts, better your inner self, and the rest will follow. Wake up in the morning and think of all the blessings in your life, and you'll have a great day. But at the same time, some of the other stuff is just ludicrous. And what annoys me is that the book's doctrine totally has a safety net. If you're sending out positive vibes for the universe to throw its riches back at you, and nothing happens, and you start to doubt if 'the secret' works, well, it's your fault for not truly believing!

Whatever. It was an interesting, fast read (the book is quite small), and I suggest you take a look if you haven't already. And if you are one of those who fall susceptible to the message and use it to try to turn your life around, I promise not to snicker. And hey, if it works, I might give it a shot myself. But until I personally know someone who touts the message, I'm going to continue glumly eating Cheetos in bed and wondering why my life isn't going anywhere. Take that, universe!

Walk It Out

2008-03-10T22:46:00.000-07:00

Last last weekend, I turned twenty five. I celebrated by being athletic. Athleticism is something that's as elusive to me as underwear is to Britney Spears, as evidenced by my lack of breath and leg cramps each time I stomp up the two floors to my apartment. But, I wanted to do something different, and it turned out to be really fun!

On Saturday, we went hiking in Malibu, to see one of the hidden waterfalls within in the city. I actually woke up at 9:30am and dragged my groggy ass over to Isaac's. The meeting time was 11am, and although I am notorious for running late, it was nothing compared to Dre, Tim, and Jason, who arrived there at around 12:30pm. But Dre brought yummy sandwiches, and I wasn't expecting Jason since he'd been MIA for the past week, so I forgave him for being the one who pushed everything off schedule. I just felt bad for the others, since they had actually arrived promptly and were left defenseless against an old Jewish man who told them his entire life story.

The weather was perfect for a sweaty hike (cloudy and chilly), and the trail wasn't too arduous or lengthy. We started off walking by some jaw-droppingly opulent homes, and saw a hawk swoop down and catch prey. Then we ventured into nature, nimbly maneuvering over several streams. During the hike, Isaac managed to find a several edible mushrooms, tree mold, a little froggy, and a dead mole. We kept running into the cutest dogs, and it made me so bummed out that I didn't bring Pumpkin along (I thought she wouldn't be able to handle it, but I was wrong.) Considering it had rained the week prior, the waterfall was pretty loud and lush. However, it seriously smelled like shit around the base. What was up with that?!

We sat around and ate, despite the stench, and then posed for pictures. When Dre whipped out her digital SLR, everyone stepped back in awe. The quality of the pics from that thing are amazing, especially when you compare it side by side with the pics from Trang and Sekina's point-and-shoot cameras. But then again, Dre has this crazy talent for photography, so that helps. Just a bit. Then we headed back, and I'm pretty sure we were all feeling flushed and accomplished.

Oh yeah, and the old Jewish man who stopped to talk to us while we waited for everyone to show up? His stories were pretty fascinating. He was held in the concentration camps in Indonesia for several years. He claimed to have worked for the CIA. After he found out Isaac was Jewish too, he gave me a few pointers. "Just learn a few Hebrew phrases, and read a little bit of the Bible, and they'll accept you." And if that doesn't work? "Slip a rabbi $500, and he'll dip you right away in water and make you a Jew!" Good to know there's a shortcut to Gan Eden!

Anyway, this particular hike wasn't all that strenuous, but that was just part one of my birthday weekend. I'll discuss Sunday's activities in another post. I just wanted to say that a birthday without alcohol and forced singing is pretty damn awesome. And now Dre and I (and even Trang!) are all motivated to go on more hikes, especially since we discovered so many others as we were researching for this one. I hope really do try a few more, because this was a really enjoyable excursion. I'm serious, Dre! Let's DO this!

Now You're Gone

2008-03-05T22:34:00.000-08:00

As the years push forth in increasingly alarming speed, I've come to realize that my love affair with writing has waned to a lackluster relationship in which I send most of the calls to voicemail. I went from pursuing an English degree to now forcing myself to blog, grimacing the entire time.

Ok, time for a book post. I read this one in January, and I've finished a few more since then, so I've gotta get this down. This book wasn't what I expected. It garnered overwhelmingly rave reviews, so I was looking forward to reading it, despite Dre's negative assessment. Joan Didion writes of the year after the death of her husband of almost 40 years, John Gregory Dunne, and how she mourned and dealt with the ordeal. So I imagined a tear-jerking account, soaked in sorrow and pummeled with pain. Instead, I found her writing very dry and almost dispassionate, which was disconcerting considering the subject matter. I understand this was her way of coping, and the constant repetition to the moment he collapsed clearly displays her struggle to move past that horrifying moment. However, she approached it more as an intellectual, often discussing the scientific aspects of his heart attack, and the mechanical study of grief. "In time of trouble, I had been trained since childhood, read, learn, work it up, go to the literature. Information was control. Given that grief remained the most general of afflictions its literature seemed remarkably spare."

I had to read the book twice to truly appreciate it. Perhaps if I had read some of Didion's writings before, I could have absorbed her style better. I really enjoyed reading about how literary the pair were (Dunne was a writer as well), such as the poems they shared and how they would critique one another's work. She references her prior novels, as well as Dunne's, several times throughout the text, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was a marketing ploy. I know, I'm a cynical bitch, but I'm also susceptible, because I'm interested in reading some of their other stuff now.

Long Road to Ruin

2008-02-27T20:07:00.000-08:00

It was for this

Barren beauty, barrenness of rock that aches

On the seaward path, seeing the fruitful sea,

Hearing the lark of rock that sings, smelling

The rock-flower of hawthorn, sweetness of rock—

It was for this, stone pain in the stony heart,

The rock loved and laboured; and all is lost.

- Sea Holly (excerpt), by Conrad Aiken

Shadow of the Day

2008-02-27T16:24:00.000-08:00

I think Garrett's death has made us all stop and draw a piercing moment of reflection. David and I ranted about drunk drivers, particularly since some of the boys dabble in it occasionally. I've certainly stopped moping about my impending birthday, since it's just selfish and, really, I'm almost grateful to be having another one. In fact, I'm actually looking forward to spending the day with my friends. I whined about getting old, and then something like this happens and makes me painfully aware of how young I am, how young my friends are, to be slapped in the face with such heartache and immediate mortality.

It also makes me want to go out with my friends more, since I'm always sober and down to drive. And tell them that I love them to bits. But only when they're piss drunk and unable to remember anything. I have my reputation to uphold, after all.

Garrett, thank you for always showing me a great time at your parties and events. You'd get me in, flash me that contagious smile, and give me a drunken hug. Come to think of it, I really can't picture you in my mind without your huge grin...and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Where Is the Love?

2008-02-16T21:25:00.000-08:00

B's on a "date" right now. I put date in quotation marks because he doesn't believe in dating. He thinks it's a crock of shit that he should have to wine and dine someone just for the privilege of getting to know them. Luckily for him, tonight consists of a home-cooked meal at an acquaintance's house, so all B needs to do is bring some wine and his famous creme brulee. The Viet chick he's being set up with is supposedly a hotter, more successful version of me. We've been jokingly referring to her as his upgrade, and I'm really curious to find out if she lives up to the talk that his friend has been spewing.

Speaking of talk from friends, everyone I've mentioned this to is basically saying, "OMG, are you crazy!? Hurry up and take him back before he gets over your sorry ass!" Dude. First of all, that would be terribly selfish on my part. I can't drop him and then decide to start clutching again because he might be moving on! How does that improve my growth as a person? Second, if I freaked out over every possible replacement, I'd go nuts! Considering how maturely he has handled the fact that I'm dating, it's the least I can do for him not to thwart his bachelor time. Third, even if I did want to reconcile, B's at the point where he wants to fuck around a bit. I mean, he's finally gotten over the heartbreak part of the split, so he might as well reap some single-guy rewards, right? I don't mind. Last of all, thanks! What, nobody thinks I can do any better? Ok, ok, it's probably true, and I know everyone--including my family--thinks that I won the lottery when B fell for me, and that I'm an idiot for leaving him.

Broken Heart by May Ann Lucidine

And speaking of family, none of our parents know about what happened. B doesn't want to alarm them or look dumb if we end up back together, and I just don't want to hear my mom bitch me out, lol. B was groaning to me earlier about how he's going to have to concoct a story to his mom about what he did for me for Valentine's Day, haha. My family doesn't talk all that much for me to be making up shit, so I'm covered. We've decided that if we ever do fill in the folks, it'll be because one of us has truly moved on with someone new.

And speaking of Valentine's Day, I spent mine trying to end things with Isaac, and then trying to make it up to him the rest of the time because I ruined his holiday, haha. We've been casually dating for about a month, and I definitely don't see this going long term. I don't want him to get too emotionally involved, and I wish he wouldn't take things so seriously. Don't get me wrong; I like him, and he's a wonderful guy--I really wouldn't bother if he weren't. I just happen to have an extremely pessimistic view of the relationship, which I attempt to express a lot because I don't want anyone getting hurt. Besides, this whole "it'll never work" shit is not just on my part either; the guy is a Russian Jew who wants to marry 100% Jewish. He told me that right when we started taking an interest in one another, and I wholly appreciated his honesty. So why does he get so upset every time I honestly discuss the futility of our future?! Boys are weird. He thinks I'm crazy, so I guess we're even.

Full Moon, Empty Heart by Fabian Perez

And speaking of crazy, to conclude this shit, I feel like ever since this all went down, an emptiness has pervaded inside, and I foresee nothing that can bring back fulfillment. It's quite different from the crushing depression I used to experience back in the day; it's more like the lingering ghost of it, a diaphanous shadow across my psyche. I find it all the more irritating, because it's not something I've ever dealt with before. At least with depression, I was moved to write. This is just an underwhelming feeling of discontentment. Despite their having no true weight, these flimsy phantoms still need to be exorcised. If only I knew how.

Cut Here

2008-02-12T23:55:00.000-08:00

I consider getting a haircut an event, since a) it gets me out of the house and b) it's practically an annual thing. "But Kim, your hair becomes so unkempt, damaged, and long. Why on earth don't you maintain it?!" I'll tell you why. Because for almost three years, I was dating a man who'd freak out at the mention of me cutting it. So every time I planned on going, even for a desperately needed trim, B would exclaim, "What? No! Please! Your hair looks fine! I like it long!" Naturally, my laziness would overcome my annoyance, and I'd just let it stay unruly.

Yes, this is the "after" shot. Jerks!

Anyway, the other day, Giz took one look at my locks and immediately urged me to tag along and see her stylist. It's only because she volunteered to pick me up that I agreed to attend. The man works in Alhambra! (Or Monterey Park. One of those. And after last weekend's excursion there, which should be in another blog, I'm so over that area!) That's way too far for haircut--I don't care how ~~gay~~ good the guy is! But after today's one-hour session with Kevin, I'm hooked. He's awesome! He took his time, and gave me the exact bangs I wanted, which I haven't had since Christine from The Cut in Santa Monica, who quit and disappeared into stylist purgatory. He gave me the best advice on how to coif my 'do. And he amused me with a story about how his friend was manhandled in Amsterdam's red-light district by two exasperated prostitutes. (Unfortunately, Kevin couldn't find any he-bitch man-whores, and went home without experiencing any hooky-nooky.)

The bangs hide my forehead zits! F'realz!

Anyway, I can't find any info online about the place, or else I'd link it in case someone lives in the area. The cost was $40, I tipped him $10, and I still feel like I underpaid. As for the pics, in my defense, my hair is so super slick and straight that you can't ever really tell when anything's happening to it. However, if you saw my hair before this, with the three inches of old ass orange dye at the dead ends, you'd be impressed. I don't think anything has looked this healthy on my body since before 1998, when puberty hit! Also, I really do hate having pictures taken of me, let alone self-portraits. But I need to start logging this stuff, because I can honestly feel the impending inevitability of old age, and I don't want to be decrepit and wondering what the hell I used to look like before gravity and wrinkles took their course.

Doggy Dogg World

2008-02-12T19:09:00.000-08:00

Giz took these shots of Pumpkin with her iPhone. They're so cute that I had to share. Look at my little monster! I love her! Look at her big yellow eyes! Awww! That's her little stuffed puppy that she likes to viciously bite and throttle. She's such a sweetheart!

Don't Speak

2008-02-06T17:35:00.000-08:00

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly a hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

-The Quiet World, by Jeffrey McDaniel

The Climb

2008-02-06T12:13:00.000-08:00

Being fit and getting fondled!

So our rock climbing venture occurred early last month, but I didn't get the pictures from Kristin until recently, so here's a post about a rather belated event. I'll make it quick. I'm just stoked because I look super skinny in the above shot. Yes, I realize that I have bony arms and legs, but if you know me that well, you also know about my big blubber belly. Mmm. It's like all my fat designated my tummy as the new South Beach and decided to flock there in droves. And in that pic, you can't even tell! I look like I have washboard abs! Suh-weet.

Double knotting like a pro,
but rappelling like a novice.

What makes this a monumental activity is because, well, I don't do activities. Frankly, I don't really like to move. I'm most content, as Dre puts it, eating chips in my bed and reading. (Only she got it slightly wrong; I prefer sunflower seeds. Sunflower seeds.) But Isaac suggested it, and it sounded pretty fun because my last sort of active endeavor was over a year ago at Yosemite, and while that was more rock scrambling than climbing, I was pretty good at it and I had fun. Plus, when I told others about it, their enthusiasm had me going, and we ended up booking the last six spots of the instructional group.

L to R: Tim, Dre, me, Jason, Kristin & Isaac

I was a little stressed, because everyone was running late, and I called Rockreation to let them know, and was informed that anyone tardy over 15 minutes would forfeit their spot, and lose out on the $40 (per person) fee. Kristin and I were the only ones who arrived on time; thank goodness Kristin was there because it was love at first sight for the instructor. He proceeded to hover around her the rest of the day, and gave the approval to hook up the four others in our group who came 16 or 17 minutes late.

An Instructor and the Latebirds

Climbing up the wall was pretty easy. It's the "let go at 40 feet up and lean back into empty space" that's the terrifying part. But then you get used to it, and you feel all great, and you deal with the sweaty pits, and the fear of your partner not belaying you correctly, while checking out the tan and muscular bodies, burning calories, and goofing around with your friends. And then the next few days, your arms are burning, your fingers ache, and you're walking as if two men banged you like a Salvation Army drum (my favorite line from Bedazzled).

Ready...set...rock climb!

Just Like the Movies

2008-02-05T14:57:00.000-08:00

I'm kind of person who can get thoroughly pulled into a film. I rarely cast a cynical eye on incongruities, or snarkily question unreality of movie moments. Some critic was recently fired for constantly praising worthless movies for kickbacks from studios. He peppered his reviews with such banalities as "this is a must-see film" and "you don't want to miss this!" Well, I'm like his enthusiastic equivalent, only without shady bribing, and with a better vocabulary and bigger boobs (here's hoping). Usually, all I require is a happy ending. That's why I'm still shell-shocked from The Departed. And All Dogs Go to Heaven. (What?! Yeah, he got into heaven, but goodbye scene traumatized my little eight-year-old heart. I sobbed incoherently for ten minutes straight.)

"Why even bother saving NYC?
Coverfield's attacking next month."

I Am Legend
1-10-08 I watched an advanced screening copy of film, aka a great quality bootleg, over at Tomo's house. (Yes, I felt bad about it, but clearly not enough to just say no.) I found movie quite entertaining, despite disappointing ending. Then again, I didn't shell out $10 to watch it, so that contributes to my assessment. scene in warehouse was extremely suspenseful and thrilling, and images of a desolate NYC were spectacular. Will Smith's ripped body was delicious, and dog was an absolute darling. Will's desperate pleas in video store made my heart heavy. I wouldn't recommend this to those who like rational explanations for every turn of events. Or biologists/virologists, who are probably shaking in ludicrous laughter at situation that has wiped out humanity. ***SPOILER ALERT*** Chanel made a reassuring remark about how dog was going to live and have cute babies before movie began. So gullible me, I was still sitting there all calm when dog was attacked, since hey, she was going to be fine! She was going to have babies! NO. She didn't have babies. She was strangled to death as she was transforming into a monster by an agonized Will Smith. That sucked ass. And I couldn't even yell at Chanel because she had fallen asleep on floor by that point. Also, why did Willy have to die!? title is horribly misleading; it's I Am Legend, not I Was Legend, thereby providing moviegoer with a false sense of security that Will Smith will save humankind and live to tell tale.

"No! You're not going into kitchen
until you promise to stop cutting yourself!"

Cloverfield
1-18-08 In spite of all buzz generated from cunningly covert trailer and vast viral campaign, I truly could've waited to watch this film. Instead, I trudged out to a midnight premiere to watch it with Isaac, who, only two days earlier, had vowed not to succumb to sneaky marketing tactics of film. Then he heard a radio program gushing about big mystery, and decided we had to immediately watch it. Man, I'm so glad he was such a sucker. What an exhilarating, exuberant, engrossing, and enthralling movie! Especially that night footage scene in tunnels! Seriously! Now, I have pretty bad motion sickness, so you'd think that 90 minutes of hand-held camera footage with plenty of shaky running would make me nauseous. Instead, I was so absorbed in film that I barely noticed it. I'm a suspense fan, and this movie knocked it up and threw it down, ultimate fighter style. I wouldn't recommend this to those who like neat and complete resolutions and answers. Or those who couldn't sit through The Blair Witch Project. ***SPOILER ALERT*** Ok, even grumblings of Isaac over ridiculousness of certain aspects didn't bring me down. movie never explains anything about monster. Where does it come from? What is its purpose for destroying NYC? What hell are those crazy killer spiders dropping from it? Babies? Parasites? What really happened behind screen to Janice from Mean Girls? How can monster resist all those bombs? What, is its skin made of Kevlar? And why hell was helicopter flying low enough to get sideswiped by monster? Yeah, I didn't care about any of that. You know what did bother me, though? No, not ending, even though you pretty much assume everyone gets killed. It's fact that Jason's girlfriend didn't even cry when he died. Homegirl was just dry eyed with a crumpled face. No, bitch. I expected tears. Lots of them. You call that love? You disgust me.

"I feel fat. Am I fat in this dress?"
"Nope. Does this suit make me blurry?"

Atonement
1-25-08 I really liked this movie, which is surprising because it is an awfully sad story. It had beautiful visuals, particularly that breathtaking, panoramic shot of Normandy, and Keira Knightly in green dress that mesmerized Dre. I normally never find Keira all that attractive, but dear God, that sex scene in library has plagued my fantasies for past ten days. She looks ravishing. And James McAvoy! Oomf! Instant infatuation. most crushing part in movie is when he strolls up proudly with twins, and that look of bewilderment slowly shadows his face as everyone stands before him. And then look on his face as he is placed in car--it kills me. As for Briony, central character in movie, I held a grudge entire time, thus making me almost disgusted with final moments of movie. I'm fairly sure that's not what film intends for audience; movie is called 'atonement,' after all. It's just that I felt so deeply for two lovers that I couldn't wholly forgive Briony for her actions. It's a languid, lush tale that didn't make me pine for my $12 back. I wouldn't recommend it for action-only fans or people who've done something that completely fucked up someone else's life (might hit a little too close to home). ***SPOILER ALERT*** I knew he was going to die. They were totally foreshadowing it, so I wasn't too devastated. Plus, writers tend to make story all super tragic in order to give it more depth. I hate when that happens! And I feel SO gypped that that confrontation with three of them in Keira's room was just make-believe. It's just not fair!

"I know! QWERTY is played out.
Mad props for scrambling it up!"

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
1-31-08 B and I were supposed to watch this since before Christmas, but we finally made it happen last Thursday. In case you didn't know, this is critically acclaimed movie about a man who has locked-in syndrome, and can only move and communicate with his ~~right~~ left eye (thanks for catching that, B, you loser). Jean-Do feels completely trapped and isolated (hence diving bell metaphor), but his imagination sets him free (hence butterfly metaphor). Yes, it's just as heartrending and beautiful as trailer indicates, although not quite as uplifting. What makes it so much more haunting is that it's a true story. B says he came out with message of "live life to fullest." I got more of a "be good to people you love or you might end up fully cognizant but completely paralyzed and unable to truly recompense for your wrongs" kinda vibe. But that could be my pesky pessimism overshadowing sunshine and all. Just watch it. It's impressionable, unforgettable, and moving. I'm glad I had B's hankie around, because my face would've been even messier than it usually is. ***SPOILER ALERT*** I'm so heartsick over scene where mother of Jean-Do's children, who is still madly in love with him despite how he abandoned her for someone else, is forced to translate over phone to his lover. He knows how much it must hurt her, and yet he still tells her to tell his mistress, "Every day I wait for you." Man, I'm sorry, but that's pretty messed up. mother of his children was visiting all time, while other bitch was M.I.A. Couldn't he just suck it up and make first woman feel loved and appreciated? Especially since in first ten minutes, he was sorrowfully saying that he could never make it up to her for how badly he treated her. Well, that was his chance right there, and he blew it!

I know, this was a long post. I've been behind on everything! Gah. I need to spread it out instead of bunching it all up into one big entry. I'll keep working on that.

Homeboy

2008-02-01T01:19:00.000-08:00

Towards the end of my teenage years, I became deeply infatuated with a boy only a couple of years older. The sordid 'relationship' proved to be both dysfunctional and destructive. At the time, I thought of him as an old soul: radiant and reflective, mysterious and melancholy. Of course, now I look back and think, "The fuck?! The guy was twenty-one." No, really, how profound could he have been? He was probably still popping his pimples while having a farting contest during a wicked game of Mario Kart with the boys.

Anyway, I wrote enough about him to fill a novel in my other blog, so I'm going to move forward to the main subject of this post: Adorable. Adorable was a British indie/pop band in the 90's, part of the Shoegazing genre. Adorable also penned a song--"Homeboy"--that I considered to be the prevailing melody of the 1.5 years with my obsession with this kid. Sure, The Cure played a huge part, along with Tom Petty, Sun Kil Moon and Death Cab for Cutie...but Adorable sang the anthem. And thanks to Youtube and Myspace Music, I have been on an Adorable revival binge for the past two nights. I found the music video for the song, which I never knew existed, and I want to share it with you.

Ok, seriously though. These lyrics! They were like scripture to a dramatic, depressed, 19-year-old female yearning for love from a drugged up, emotionally unavailable fucktard, lol.

I want to drown beneath the waves
I want to dig myself a shallow grave
And hold you up for all to see
I want to cut you up
I want to watch you bleed
Ever so slowly...

You're so beautiful
You're so beautiful

It's been five years since that whole ordeal, and the song is still just as good as it was when I completely related to it. You'd think I'd be a lot wiser now about matters of the heart, wouldn't you? Here's to never again being so foolish about those fleeting and fickle feelings.

Please?

Such Great Heights

2008-01-21T16:08:00.001-08:00

For all the features it hoards and displays
age seems to be without substance at any time

whether morning or evening it is a moment of air
held between the hands like a stunned bird

while I stand remembering light in the trees
of another century on a continent long submerged

with no way of telling whether the leaves at that time
felt memory as they were touching the day

and no knowledge of what happened to the reflections
on the pond’s surface that never were seen again

the bird lies still while the light goes on flying

-Unknown Age, by W. S. Merwin

Shoot 'Em Up

2008-01-17T18:29:00.000-08:00

The only set of pictures I ever posted on Flickr were the ones from Paris back in 2005 with B. That's when he had just purchased his digital SLR and was getting all jiggy with it. I put up his stunning images into one folder, along with my crappy ones taken with a tiny point-and-shoot. Then I proceeded to forget all about them.

Until now. I just received an email from Schmap informing me that one of the pictures of St. Sulpice church was chosen to be included in the fourth edition of their Paris guide! There's no monetary compensation, but B gets credit as the photographer. I have to concede that Schmap is implementing some brilliant business tactics. I mean, each touristy locale has a ton of pics culled from regular folks off Flickr, and you can imagine how much traffic is generated from all the excited people blogging or sending out the link to their friends. Not to mention the money the site itself saves from not having to hire photographers or buy stock images.

The shot shows the interior of the church,
and was taken a couple of days before Christmas.

Let Go

2008-01-17T17:05:00.000-08:00

When I was 19, I accompanied Trang to a house party in Torrance with a bunch of international students. The guy who invited her was a Vietnamese dude from Belgium, so most of the people in attendance were also French speakers from Europe. We walked in and immediately honed in on Bernard, the hottest guy at the party (check out his underwear shot for proof). I flirted shamelessly, but his disinterest was apparent. Then I found out he was 27 and attending CSULB. Twenty-seven?! I was never one of those aggressive teens who sought out older men; the thought of being with a man nearly thirty was appalling to me. Besides, what the hell was he still doing at Long Beach State at that age?! The guy must've been a total idiot. I left that party with nary an extra thought of him.

Flash forward to three years later, when I turned 22. By then I had had my share of tools who used me. I was pretty jaded at that point. Romance in LA turned out to be a paradox, a chimera, a two-dimensional lie told in cartoons to naive little girls so that they might quickly fall and procreate before disillusionment set in and the human race would dwindle in number. That all changed the day I logged into my Friendster account, since my friend Mike had mentioned he left me a birthday message on it. I hadn't checked Friendster in months ever since I became a Myspace whore. It turned out Bernard had sent me a friendly message the month prior. I couldn't remember him, and looked at his profile skeptically. Good looking guy, but do I even know him? I was about to close the page when I recalled with a jolt who he was. The Belgian from that party three years ago! (The pic of him in the snow is the one I drooled over on his Friendster profile.)

Well, I was just blown away at what I discovered about him. For some reason, the day after that party, his friends were all goading him to do something about the girl who was on his nuts all night (me). The reason he didn't? He had a girlfriend! But after they broke up, he remembered and proceeded to contact me. Man, I had him pegged so incorrectly. Bernard is, to this day, the smartest man I have ever encountered. He was getting his master's in mechanical engineering when we first met; he already had an electrical engineering degree. He speaks four languages, will soon start learning Arabic (or Russian), and at times has the audacity to correct my English. He plays piano, fixes cars and motorcycles, prepares food like a culinary wizard, and holds the title as the most amazing lover ever. Ever. He even loves my feet which are, in a word, disgusting (refer to pic of him gobbling them).

We ended up together, after several dramatic months during which I had a brief relationship with Chris (it lasted two weeks!) and B fucked seven other girls (with my permission; I was trying to abate his attachment to me...it didn't work). Now, nearly three years have passed (we don't have an anniversary date, so who really knows), during which my buried notions of romance were disinterred, nourished, and set in a garden to soak up the colors of a thousand rainbows. The guy cooks my favorite dishes. He buzzed his head for my 23rd birthday because buzzed heads turn me on. He completely cleans and details my car. He's even cleaned my room for me! He always gives me oral when he's too tired to have sex. My friends all adore him. I could not have even imagined a more perfect man, a more content love.

That's all fine and dandy, but what now? Well...now is the part where someone does something to fuck it all up. And that someone is me, and that something is suddenly having doubts and confusions and inner conflicts that I need to handle before I can continue loving this man who loves me so much. So, I've set him free, because I don't want him to have to deal with my shit, as much as he wants to stay and help because he's so wonderful. This could be the biggest mistake of my life; after all, the guy is now at peak bachelor status: handsome, brilliant, witty, kind, considerate, devoted, drives a sleek Jag (I hate that gas guzzler), rides a Suzuki on the side, and is about to buy a house. Who wouldn't try to snag him up? Who the fuck would be dumb enough to drop him?!

Yeah. Me. Because I'm currently all messed up inside, and I need to figure stuff out right now. I know he doesn't see it like this, but I'm trying to do my best to be just (as in fair) in this shitty situation. And I'm so sorry for hurting him. That's what truly anguishes me the most, knowing that I've caused him such sadness. And I wish I could do this with his help, with his support, but I can't. I'm really hoping this decision will result, in the long run, in maximum happiness for us. And if some wonderful woman should come along and enrapture B's heart, while I end up as a crazy old cat lady, each person will get what is deserved. But as of right now, I definitely don't deserve him. Maybe one day I will. I'll work on it.

Just What I Needed

2008-01-15T22:39:00.000-08:00

I have to admit that I'm pretty proud of my knack for picking gifts. It's probably because both B and Phil rave about my choices, and they're the two smartest people I know. Okay, okay, stop grumbling; I realize that selecting a good gift has less to do with intellect and more about creativity and/or consideration. Gift cards are the lazy way to go about it. When buying presents for people, I rely on either my memory or my knack of searching all over the world wide web for that really nifty toy.

Anyway, this post is just for what I got B for Christmas. I'll do it in the order I gave it to him. We always give them in order of smallest to nicest. I get him undies every Christmas (though he never remembers that), and in '06 it was a Calvin Klein pair. This time, I got Hugo Boss, and I gave him black ones just so they would last longer. You know how dirty Europeans can be! (And if you don't know...well, they're pretty filthy.) He proudly pronounced them to be the nicest pair in his collection.

Next up was a color changing weather forecaster clock from Radioshack. It used to drive me nuts in the winter time when B would wake up for work and turn on his computer just to check the weather to see if he could take his bike, and then leave the energy-sucker on the entire day. So this clock somehow forecasts the weather and displays it with a certain color (blue for rain, red for sunny, etc.). How does it work? I have no idea. I never bothered reading it. It just sounded cool. He can have a good time figuring out how to set it up, haha. The pic I found makes the clock look all delicate and pastel-like; I think the real colors actually are a lot less fruity.

Then, I gave him a couple items from Armani Exchange. First was a shirt that looks better online, so I'm going to return it. B was debating keeping it, but then decided he has so many shirts that unless it's something he really likes, he might as well refrain from hoarding. But he loved the cream colored sweater, so I'm glad I got something right! (On a side note, I had a horrible experience ordering from A|X, and I won't be going back for a very long time. That's right, I'm a huffy consumer, and I am withholding my purchasing power from this crappy company!)

Finally, I broke out the climactic gift: a Hugo Boss sports coat. Here's the story behind that. I had purchased it earlier in the year, and fretted on and off whether or not it was a nice blazer. Some days I'd look at it and think, "He'll love it!" and then other times I'd sadly wail, "It's awful! He'll hate it!" One time, I left it hanging on my canopy bed and forgot all about it. He actually came and spent the night with it just hanging there. It had the opaque plastic protector on, but still, you could pretty much tell what it was. The next morning, I burst into tears when I realized what I had done, and he had to soothe me and say, "It's ok, baby! I have no idea exactly what it is! I'll still be surprised!" I'm an idiot. But it's okay, because he ended up loving it, and it looks so good on him! He looks like a dashing Belgian prince, haha. (It's not exactly the coat pictured, but it's close in both style and color.)

Last but not least, I had a surprise finale for him. It doesn't top the sports coat, but I saved it for last since he already knew he was getting some sort of jacket/top from Hugo Boss. When we were in Paris back in September, we walked by a watch shop and he totally checked out this Diesel watch. I remember thinking it was ugly, because it had all these unsightly lines across the face. But he thought it was cool, and I kept note of it. Flash forward a couple of months, and I was searching frantically for it on the internet. I ended up settling for the watch pictured, which I wasn't 100% sure was the one he liked, but it was the only watch I could find with lines across the face. But I really like the look of this one, and all that matters is that B loves it too. :)

Constant Craving

2008-01-11T03:39:00.000-08:00

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

-XI, by Pablo Neruda

The Story

2008-01-11T03:01:00.000-08:00

I just finished The Death of Ivan Ilych by Leo Tolstoy. Before you start bending over and undressing to reward me for my achievement, I must confess it's merely a short story comprised of roughly 60 pages. (I'll be blazing through one of Tolstoy's more epic productions, Anna Karenina, when B gets back from Spain. So save the lube for that occasion.) Besides, I still have three other tales to complete before I truly finish the book. But I wanted to blog about this particular work since Naya told me she loved it, and it's considered one of Tolstoy's masterpieces.

Well, it was very typically Russian, with emotional characters and an overall tone that was depressing as hell. The story pretty much follows the thoughts of Ivan Ilych as he slowly dies an excruciating death from illness. "Gnawing, agonising pain never ceasing for an instant; the hopeless sense of life always ebbing away, but still not yet gone; always swooping down on him that fearful, hated death, which was the only reality, and always the same falsity." Every time I read classic Russian literature, almost every aspect is always so down in the dumps! (I'm basing this off Gogol and Dostoevsky, along with the fact that I now have Russian friends who totally agree that their peoples need to get hyphy.)

Would I recommend this? Definitely. A fascinating read, with a slightly uplifting (slightly, mind you) ending. Plus, you know you're never gonna get through, or even attempt, the 1400 pages of War and Peace, so by reading Ivan Ilych you can still quote from Tolstoy like the big boys!

This Christmas

2008-01-09T15:08:00.000-08:00

B and I had our Christmas late (a couple days ago) since he was back in Europe with his family. The guy freakin' pampered me. I don't deserve it, and I definitely don't deserve him, as much as he might argue to the contrary. But enough of that; this entry is specifically to show and tell what he got for my undeserving ass.

1) Key holder. I'm always running late and then frantically searching for my keys. Once this is up on the wall, I have no excuses. Gulp.

2) The "I Don't Know How to Cook" Book. I briefly glanced through it, though, and some recipes seem pretty formidable. Roast turkey? Boiled corned beef and cabbage? Hungarian goulash?! B says I need this so that I won't have to rely on his cooking, and then I could be an independent woman and leave his ass. Is there some underlying message to that statement, you think?

3) Living Language's Ultimate French program. It contains 8 CDs and a textbook. I think this is in response to me always ribbing him about how he never wants to practice or speak French with me. But again, now that I have this, I have no excuse having such a rudimentary grasp of the language of my birthplace.

4) Not one, not two, not three...but FOUR beautiful dresses. I would've been happy with just one, and instead he gets me four. Thanks to the internet and Google Images, I've tracked down pics to post.

a) Gold Hawk embellished silk dress. See how it's all fitted nicely on that model's body? Yeah...no. The XS looks like a large muumuu. But with a wide-waisted belt, this dress looks pretty glamorous. Plus it feels amazing on my skin. (Pic pilfered from asos.com.)

b) Diane Von Furstenberg Angelique starry bubble dress. This dress is so adorable! And again, the silky fabric feels luxurious. The only thing I hate (and B loves) about it is that it's very chest enhancing, and I feel incredibly exposed. (Pic from bluefly.com.)

c) Elie Tahari Peyton crepe dress. B loves the way this one looks on me. It's very classy and elegant, and you can feel the quality in the heavy material. It's hard to tell from the pics, but the buttons that go along the side of the dress are really intricate and cool. (Pics from neimanmarcus.com.)

d) Diane Von Furstenberg Adaline ruffled tank dress. This one is my absolute favorite, and B's least favorite, since it's neither form fitting nor revealing. But I love how simple and mod it looks. And how hot is that model?! See, I would never put pics of myself up in these dresses when I can pull up a gorgeous girl in them for your viewing pleasure. (Pics from neimanmarcus.com.)

I love everything, but it really wasn't necessary, especially when I was the one who was supposed to be spoiling him this year. But B's thrilled with his gifts; he always tells me that I give him the best presents he's ever received in his life (and that's on top of the sex and my company, haha). I still need to post what I gave him, and the stuff I received from his family, but I'm going to go shower and get ready to see Tomo, whom I miss dearly!

Bag Lady

2008-01-09T14:35:00.000-08:00

Oh MAN...Rebecca Minkoff is having a sample sale this Sunday--right when I work! It's a blessing in disguise, because I really should not be buying anything, especially when I just bought one. The bag I'm totally coveting is the Morning After Mini (see pic on right), but word on the street is that this sample sale will have mostly the larger versions of that style. So it's ok. I can wait. I gotta work on my willpower anyway, so why not apply it to materialistic urges? As for the bag that I already have, it's the super cute Dream Clutch (see pic on left), that B yelled at me for buying when he snooped and saw the Rebecca Minkoff label inside the bag, lol. But it's such a cute and convenient everyday bag, and it wasn't atrociously priced or anything. And B, if you see this, don't get any ideas. You've already spoiled me enough for Christmas, and I will be pissed if you don't calm it down. And my next post will be all about that, so wait for it.

Building a Mystery

2008-01-09T01:56:00.001-08:00

So, I can't sleep, and I've been just moping around all day. And it's freaking freezing! Good thing a warm book is an adequate substitute for a warm body. (Ok, no, it's not, but I'm trying to stay positive here.) I'm proud to announce I just completed my very first Agatha Christie novel, titled The Body in the Library. (I know, I know, I have twenty books that I need to start covering, but this was a Christmas gift I received from B's parents.) It was a surprisingly smooth read that took less than an hour. I suppose I expected more of a challenge from the heralded Ms. Christie, but I'm not displeased with the overall simplicity of diction. I prefer books I can breeze through in one setting. In my experience, most of the literary sagas where I peg away for so long are never fully satisfying enough to be worth the effort (ahem, The Brothers Karamazov). But anyway, considering this was my first Christie book, it was nowhere near daunting. Oh, and one thing that threw me off was that I think this is the first time I've ever seen a reference of the author, by the author, in a work of fiction. It was pretty amusing. A little boy in the novel runs up to a police officer and gushes, "Do you like detective stories? I do. I read them all, and I've got autographs from Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie and Dickson Carr and H.C. Bailey." As for the story itself, nothing spectacular: the usual murder, the typical grab bag of suspicious characters, and a tidy resolution. I can't say much about its predictability because I'm not one of those who try to determine what will happen; I like to let the story do its thang. (Except in that movie Oldboy. I totally called the big twist...but that's because I'm a complete pervert.)

Would I recommend this? Sure, why not. It's an easy, entertaining read. It definitely doesn't spur me to go out and buy more of her work or anything. But I'd read 'em if you gave me some. :)

Photobooth

2008-01-09T01:40:00.000-08:00

I was unpacking my shoes from my overnight bag from NYE, and found this pic. Dre, Myles and me, all posing in the free instant photo booth. I have to see if Colburn can find the other one, so I can post it too! UPDATED at 8:17PM--Colburn hooked it up!

It's Just Another New Year's Eve

2008-01-02T14:02:00.002-08:00

I have to blog now before I make excuses. The pics are up, so BOOM, baby!

For NYE, 07/08, I joined Dre and the boys in San Diego for Soom's brother's wedding. Held on the beautiful property of Le Costa Resort and Spa in Carlsbad, it boasted a sumptuous Indian buffet and an open bar. I had resolved not to drink, as usual, until Myles told me off in one rapid dictum: "I did not drive 130 miles so that you could be sober all night!"

So, I drank. (Refer to pics of alcohol and me, on the left. Else no one would believe me!) I had my first drink, a diluted Kamikaze on the rocks, and felt this cozy, gentle glow. Surely, I thought, I must be building a tolerance for the stuff! So I paced myself, then grabbed another one. All too suddenly, that soothing, vibrant warmth spiraled into a pulsating headache, crimson skin, and wobbly legs.

Despite my inebriated state from 1.5 drinks, I managed to snatch Dre's camera and take plenty of decent shots to immortalize the evening. You can see them all on her Picasa. Occasionally, people managed to take the camera back and get a picture of me, hence the shot of me pitifully trying to fondle Dre's breast and missing. That's my first time ever flubbing a tit-grope, and it better be the last!

Overall, it was a great night, with amazing people. Thanks, Dre, for curling my hair (the last time I can recall doing that was senior year prom, and now I want to go buy a hair curler badly!), and thanks Dre and Drea for taking care of me when I was THISCLOSE to hurling. Thanks to Tim for offering to carry me out on the makeshift stretcher. Thank you Soom, for letting me crash your brother's wedding, thanks to Myles for driving and forcing an innocent girl to drink (although your wicked hangover was karma enough), and Colburn rocks for keeping me warm when it was effin freezing outside!

Read My Mind

2008-01-01T23:48:00.001-08:00

I just spent $81.08 on books. That's typically about five to six novels, right? Maybe a couple less if some new hardcovers are in the mix, or maybe a couple more if I got them on some sort of promotion. Well, I happen to have a shipment from B&N that contains twenty paperbacks. ::beam:: That makes each book only slightly more than four bucks!

Every once in a while, B&N has 50% off its classics collection. Last year, I was in the store and bought five. But this year, I caught it online and I went buckwild. Heavy, erudite works delivered up the four flights of stairs to my doorstep with no shipping charges?! Hellz yeeah! Expanding both my brain and my fat ass in one fell swoop? Hot damn, I'm in!

I'm proud of each and every one of my new lovers, and I plan to spend many nights in bed with them. And not necessarily one at a time. ::wink::

The Damn Baby I'm Taking You Home Tonight ones:

The I Wanted You Someday But I Can Have You Now ones:

The You So Cheap How Can I Say No ones:

Finally, the I'm Getting a Double Order So I Can Tag Team ones:

The last two I just bought an extra copy to give to B to read with me. Our first book together was Dostoevsky's The Idiot, so I'm sure we could handle Anna Karenina, and The Woman in White just seems like it'd be a fun read.

Here's a 2008 vow: I will not buy any further books this year until I complete all these new ones. I have a feeling Plato and Thucydides are going to hit me with one of those loooong, numbingly exhausting sessions where I'll have grit my teeth, take it, and fake enjoyment in the end. Or, as I like to call it, my sex life before ~~the vibrator~~ my boyfriend.

We Need a Resolution

2008-01-01T23:20:00.000-08:00

Since I had no specific aim (or any direction, in general) for the year, Dre suggested I blog more--and then laughed it off as a futile endeavor. Well, I'll show her! She has, like, ten blogs that she updates pretty regularly; I have two which I barely use. Here's to lucky number 3! Harboring a penchant for being a horrific rambler, I will attempt to keep these entries as short and sweet as possible. I also want to include lots of pictures from my awesome, but dusty, camera. Thus, I hope to both hold the attention span of the average reader and motivate myself to post more. We'll see how it goes.