Thursday, May 31, 2007
I'm not nice
...and I have never really claimed to be. So why does it continue to surprise people when they find out that I'm actually kind of a bitch? I personally think it's part of my charm, but of course my opinion is a bit biased. I can be nice...and I am fiercely loyal to my close friends, but other than that...I'm a grab bag of spite, revenge, prejudice, and condenscention. I have done some very bad things that I probably shouldn't have, but I choose to move on rather than dwell on them/learn from my mistakes. I'm not PC and the whole idea of attempting to please everyone to the point where you suppress your whole ability to express yourself makes me want to vomit epithets. Which is not to say that I can't behave myself, of course I wouldn't scream out "I hate Asians" in a sushi bar like some people. Ahem. Lucky for me, I choose to surround myself with like minds who are smart enough to know the difference between acting like a snatch and really being one. I have come to appreciate and recognize people who have the same mentality (and dare I say, razor sharp wit?) as I do, and surprisingly, there're a lot of us out there. Of course, as Janessa and I once asked our father, given the option to be dazzlingly beautiful or insanely intelligent, I would still be hard pressed to choose the smarts. Thankfully, I will never have to make this choice, as the heavens have chosen to bless me with both already. Thank you, Jesus! See, he is there for some things besides sports championships.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
and to think, I never took a psychology class...
This weekend was fun. Aside from Friday, which I spent at school for ten hours working on the jacket I have to spend at least two more hours on tonight to finish, I feel like I really maximized my Memorial vacation. How could I not have when I have a full torso body burn to prove that I was out enjoying the sun? It's actually quite painful and it hurts when I move, but it was well worth the fact that I was able to spend three days by the ocean this week. A dead bird, several live birds, two baby chihuahas, some dead jellyfish, and lots of seals are just a small sampling of the fauna I experienced this weekend. It was great. Getting up this morning to go to work was really quite upsetting, especially since sleep was almost impossible last night due to the fact that every tiny movement sloughed off skin. This is my punishment for living in Maine for four years right up next to the bottom level of atmosphere and losing my natural ability to tan. I deserve it.
Last week something triggered the astute observation/reflection on a relationship phenomena that I have been noticing more often as of late: unattractive people move faster in relationships than their attractive counterparts. Why is this, you ask? Well I have a theory. I have long said that there's someone for everyone. Granted, I usually say this in response to having just passed a particularly unsavory couple in an effort to cheer up an unattached friend, providing evidence that he/she is at least more desirable than either of that pair. But I still believe it.
However, I have also been known to preach/educate about the "league" system, as in, some people are either above or below other's leagues. If and when someone does get lucky enough to become involved with a person of a higher league, there are usually complications and jealousy, which you don't have if you just stay within your league. But I digress. The phenomena at hand is that, as you get to the lower leagues, (tee-ball, as Janelle refers to it) not only are there fewer complications, it seems like there is a mad dash to get and stay connected. Neither party wants to rock the boat and risk never landing another person willing to take off their clothes in their presence again. So, these relationships inevitably rush forward at warp speed, resulting in marriages within months or even weeks of dating, whereas those in the "higher" leagues take their time to make sure that this person is really deserving of being the last of the long line of people willing to get naked before them.
I didn't ask to be this brilliant, people. I just call 'em like I see 'em. As I am getting older and more of my acquaintances are hooking up, seemingly for good, I'm noticing this pattern and I feel it necessary to comment, because I just can't keep my mouth shut. And now I will leave you with a self-portrait, inspired by Laura.
Last week something triggered the astute observation/reflection on a relationship phenomena that I have been noticing more often as of late: unattractive people move faster in relationships than their attractive counterparts. Why is this, you ask? Well I have a theory. I have long said that there's someone for everyone. Granted, I usually say this in response to having just passed a particularly unsavory couple in an effort to cheer up an unattached friend, providing evidence that he/she is at least more desirable than either of that pair. But I still believe it.
However, I have also been known to preach/educate about the "league" system, as in, some people are either above or below other's leagues. If and when someone does get lucky enough to become involved with a person of a higher league, there are usually complications and jealousy, which you don't have if you just stay within your league. But I digress. The phenomena at hand is that, as you get to the lower leagues, (tee-ball, as Janelle refers to it) not only are there fewer complications, it seems like there is a mad dash to get and stay connected. Neither party wants to rock the boat and risk never landing another person willing to take off their clothes in their presence again. So, these relationships inevitably rush forward at warp speed, resulting in marriages within months or even weeks of dating, whereas those in the "higher" leagues take their time to make sure that this person is really deserving of being the last of the long line of people willing to get naked before them.
I didn't ask to be this brilliant, people. I just call 'em like I see 'em. As I am getting older and more of my acquaintances are hooking up, seemingly for good, I'm noticing this pattern and I feel it necessary to comment, because I just can't keep my mouth shut. And now I will leave you with a self-portrait, inspired by Laura.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Damn, Panda!
I just almost got hit on the way to work. Twice. Whereas some might view this as a negative reflection on my own driving, I am going to go with putting the blame on the idiot drivers of Sunnyvale/San Jose. The first clueless bastard who no doubt bribed his way via poor quality sexual favors into possession of a CA license put his blinker on (so far, so good) but unfortunately immediately followed that up with a blind merge into my lane. While I appreciate his good driver habits, they mean nothing without actually looking to see if the lane you are proposing to enter is, in fact, clear. Janessa, are you paying attention to this? NEVER do this when you finally learn to drive. So because I was already at bumper level, when he came into my lane I was forced onto the shoulder where I sped past him, making sure to give him my best death glare on the way by. I still don't think he even knew I was there.
The second asshole was on the freeway in a minivan, which already loses him points. He too made excellent use of his blinker. I thought "no way is this guy just going to come in, he must see me here right behind him on his right." But no. The fact that we were both going upwards of 75 mph made this encounter a tad more frightening, and this time I liberally applied a horn pounding/brake combo. That scared him and he veered off to the left, properly chastised. But Jesus. People, a blinker does not mean you get to come on in. You still need to use your eyes, and possibly - but not limited to - a head swivel. I have said it before and I will say it again, I really wish I alone was granted permission to heave grenades and/or rocket launchers at drivers who displease me.
I just found out I can leave the office at ten. Suddenly, all is right with the world.
The second asshole was on the freeway in a minivan, which already loses him points. He too made excellent use of his blinker. I thought "no way is this guy just going to come in, he must see me here right behind him on his right." But no. The fact that we were both going upwards of 75 mph made this encounter a tad more frightening, and this time I liberally applied a horn pounding/brake combo. That scared him and he veered off to the left, properly chastised. But Jesus. People, a blinker does not mean you get to come on in. You still need to use your eyes, and possibly - but not limited to - a head swivel. I have said it before and I will say it again, I really wish I alone was granted permission to heave grenades and/or rocket launchers at drivers who displease me.
I just found out I can leave the office at ten. Suddenly, all is right with the world.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Intro to Me: A typical weekend in the life
First post carried over from myspace...
I was going to write about my weekend yesterday but was still kind of hazy on some of the details, so now that I have coordinated and done research with some of the other people involved, I have a more accurate portrayal of what actually went down.
Not to make it sound more exciting than it really was, pretty much the only notable fact is that I quite possibly consumed more alcohol this weekend than I ever have in my adult life. And I may have developed a medical condition.
Friday night started with the best of intentions to finish the blasted jacket pattern I've been working on for the third consecutive week now. I went to school after work and stayed for about five hours, and still managed to leave having completed no visible improvements. But that could have been because I had a buzz from the "office lunch" my bosses convinced me to take from 11 to 1:30. Maybe I use that term too loosely, because I ate like a post-op and consumed only liquids. It was much more fun than going to the gym. Anyway, when my cousin called me later that evening I figured going bowling would be a nice, safe, relaxing way to spend the night. A pitcher each between Janessa and I later, my game was rapidly declining and I came to the sudden conclusion that I was drunk.
I would just like to insert a little note here to praise Janess, since she admirably continued to play after overcoming the obstacles of having no socks, and bowling her first game with the hefty score of 7. Her score climbed exponentially with each glass she downed. Go, baby!
Saturday morning I woke up with a horrible hangover and after looking around my room a bit, learned that a) I had eaten a quesadilla (or 2 or 3) when I got home the night before, and b) I had attempted to urinate on the sidewalk by taco bell and grossly underestimated my trajectory. This second realization took a bit of sleuthing, but was no less disappointing when I pieced it together. I went to the gym to try to salvage some pretense of health since there were plans in motion to drink starting at 2PM for the mountain view art and wine festival. When we got to Mon's house, everyone was trashed and we rushed to catch up. We caught up. The rest of the evening is a drunken haze but here are the main points:
A heroic amount of alcohol was consumed
Janelle was compared to Sandra Oh for the second time in her life. The guy who did it barely escaped with his.
I was chastised for attempting to cleverly hide my empty beer bottle in the neighbor's bush.
A Journey cover band was experienced by all.
Janelle crawled through a dog door.
Janessa walked home barefoot.
I ate way more chicken wings than I ever thought possible, the main reason being I hate chicken wings.
Janessa repeatedly threw salt on games
I drove on the wrong side of the road, resulting in unchacteristic squeals of "Whee!" from Janelle.
I attempted to play matchmaker and ended up getting the girl's number for myself
Went to the Blue Bonnet finally after years of yearning to go in.
Woke up at 5AM downstairs with little to no recognition of where I was, still drunk.
Unfortunately, when I woke up again at ten I think I was still pretty tipsy. This meant that as the morning progressed, I began to develop a most annoying hangover that made thrashing on my bed painful and getting ready downright impossible. I only got worse as I ate my taco bell (since when does greasy pseudo-mexican not help?) and was in full on grumpy/whiny mode when I met up with everyone at the second festival of the weekend, the Boogie on the Bayou in Campbell. Quickly realized that all black attire was a bad choice and had to change in public from a short sleeve to sleeveless dress thingie. A nice strawberry popsicle and plenty of puppy sightings helped a little, but then what I can only assume to be my angry and inflamed liver began pressing against my spine with every breath, which put me out of sorts again.
Long story short (although there's no salvaging it now) a humongous barbecue, margaritas and an introduction to ninja warrior lifted my spirits enough to make it through the rest of Sunday. Except now I think I might have diabetes or cirrhosis of the liver, or both. I know I say this all the time, but I don't need to drink for a while.
I was going to write about my weekend yesterday but was still kind of hazy on some of the details, so now that I have coordinated and done research with some of the other people involved, I have a more accurate portrayal of what actually went down.
Not to make it sound more exciting than it really was, pretty much the only notable fact is that I quite possibly consumed more alcohol this weekend than I ever have in my adult life. And I may have developed a medical condition.
Friday night started with the best of intentions to finish the blasted jacket pattern I've been working on for the third consecutive week now. I went to school after work and stayed for about five hours, and still managed to leave having completed no visible improvements. But that could have been because I had a buzz from the "office lunch" my bosses convinced me to take from 11 to 1:30. Maybe I use that term too loosely, because I ate like a post-op and consumed only liquids. It was much more fun than going to the gym. Anyway, when my cousin called me later that evening I figured going bowling would be a nice, safe, relaxing way to spend the night. A pitcher each between Janessa and I later, my game was rapidly declining and I came to the sudden conclusion that I was drunk.
I would just like to insert a little note here to praise Janess, since she admirably continued to play after overcoming the obstacles of having no socks, and bowling her first game with the hefty score of 7. Her score climbed exponentially with each glass she downed. Go, baby!
Saturday morning I woke up with a horrible hangover and after looking around my room a bit, learned that a) I had eaten a quesadilla (or 2 or 3) when I got home the night before, and b) I had attempted to urinate on the sidewalk by taco bell and grossly underestimated my trajectory. This second realization took a bit of sleuthing, but was no less disappointing when I pieced it together. I went to the gym to try to salvage some pretense of health since there were plans in motion to drink starting at 2PM for the mountain view art and wine festival. When we got to Mon's house, everyone was trashed and we rushed to catch up. We caught up. The rest of the evening is a drunken haze but here are the main points:
A heroic amount of alcohol was consumed
Janelle was compared to Sandra Oh for the second time in her life. The guy who did it barely escaped with his.
I was chastised for attempting to cleverly hide my empty beer bottle in the neighbor's bush.
A Journey cover band was experienced by all.
Janelle crawled through a dog door.
Janessa walked home barefoot.
I ate way more chicken wings than I ever thought possible, the main reason being I hate chicken wings.
Janessa repeatedly threw salt on games
I drove on the wrong side of the road, resulting in unchacteristic squeals of "Whee!" from Janelle.
I attempted to play matchmaker and ended up getting the girl's number for myself
Went to the Blue Bonnet finally after years of yearning to go in.
Woke up at 5AM downstairs with little to no recognition of where I was, still drunk.
Unfortunately, when I woke up again at ten I think I was still pretty tipsy. This meant that as the morning progressed, I began to develop a most annoying hangover that made thrashing on my bed painful and getting ready downright impossible. I only got worse as I ate my taco bell (since when does greasy pseudo-mexican not help?) and was in full on grumpy/whiny mode when I met up with everyone at the second festival of the weekend, the Boogie on the Bayou in Campbell. Quickly realized that all black attire was a bad choice and had to change in public from a short sleeve to sleeveless dress thingie. A nice strawberry popsicle and plenty of puppy sightings helped a little, but then what I can only assume to be my angry and inflamed liver began pressing against my spine with every breath, which put me out of sorts again.
Long story short (although there's no salvaging it now) a humongous barbecue, margaritas and an introduction to ninja warrior lifted my spirits enough to make it through the rest of Sunday. Except now I think I might have diabetes or cirrhosis of the liver, or both. I know I say this all the time, but I don't need to drink for a while.
Starting Fresh
I have decided that the anonymity of the past 27 years of my life has become too much to bear and would now enjoy some notoriety via the interweb. However, I am exceptionally lazy and inept when it comes to formatting/programming anything online, and so this is going to be a slow process. I already have a blog on Myspace but since as I mentioned I am fast approaching the age when it's kind of less acceptable to be showcased on a site of Myspace's dubious reputation, I will simply copy and paste all my blogs across both millieus. I'm not guaranteeing that I will have anything interesting to say, but since writing makes me happy and having a blog is a kind of sorry replacement for my lifelong dream of becoming an author...this is what you get.
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