an illusion of love is just smoke and mirrors

you know i'm coming back my way

ex-magician still knows the tricks... tricks are everything to me...

i got a message for you... i keep it in my hand..
you just wish i went away...

well these are the bits of song that i'm quick enough to type as the song plays... and i think there's a story somewhere in there. or the skeleton of one.


i fucking hate this slight of hand. this wayward illusion. the smoke and mirrors involved in conjuring a moment's amusement. i especially hate when the lights come on, and you're just this silly person in a sequined costume holding onto a flimsy wand with plastic flowers dangling on one end.

it used to be easy. it used to be fun. the curtain would come up and i'd lift my sleeves to show you i had nothing to hide. i'd roll out rainbows before your eyes and let you push steel blades through my heart. i'd swallow fire and spit out confetti. it was more than magic, it was magical.

you were my trusted assistant. 3 years of illusion. then something changed.

you pressed me to betray my secrets. you waved your hands in front of me searching for wires. you watched my moves with spite in your eyes; the delight all but vanished.

3 years disillusion. more smoke. a hard drink. and broken mirrors.

i'm on the stage again and i've got a rabbit tucked away in the folds of the bottom of this hat. i place my gloved hand into the satin lining and pull out a giant ball of lint and dust. the rabbit has disappeared... or was never there... or has gone down the rabbit hole to join some tea party. and here comes the taunting: silly me, tricks are for kids.

and the applause comes in painful stutters to remind me i'm a poor prestidigitator.

for love of language

after years of undreaming silence, of palsied hands and desert mouth, i feel myself alive; revived and invigorated by the fluid force of language. these past few weeks my ears were almost capsized by waves of eloquent speech. i floated happily to the wordplay in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. the "words, words, words" made famous by Shakespeare and reinterpreted and reinvented by Stoppard somersaulted off the tongue like dolphins skimming the seas. and i found myself delighted and delirious for more oratorial diversion.

the democratic national convention offered me a different draught to quench my thirst - a mastery of language infused with medicinal purpose. and i swallowed it down in parched gulps. the speeches given by those impassioned leaders were like ingredients to a magic elixir; a potent potion of hope and inspiration, fervor and promise, that the enthralled audience savored to intoxication. and i hope the serum of truth and optimism they so carefully prepared can help remedy this ailing country; give it breath to speak against the noxious lies of the current administration, and strength to lift its fists against their injustices and wrongdoing.

more importantly, however, all this lovely language is healing me. i feel my voice returning. and my hands, once diminished by debilitating drought, course with recovered creative blood. in slow short bursts, aided by this boggled blog, my fingers find their flexibility. they are not so nimble, but they are well-intentioned. they are as yet unpracticed, but determined to demonstrate some kind of literary promise.

and hopefully with patience, through time, by arduous application, indeed, for love of language, i will fulfill that promise.

i am evil, medieval

i cannot resist taking a joke too far. and when pushed to vindictiveness, i will dole it out tenfold. i can't help the evil. my conscience - the good that i have in me - is quieted by a supernatural force. a force wielding one very large pillow, a plastic bag, and some duct tape. call it son of sam syndrome. call it the twinkie defense. or call what it is - inexcusable.

i know it's not right. i know by taking a joke to catastrophically dangerous depths i am asking for punishment without pity. and yet, the willful knowledge of hurting someone's feelings is not enough to deter me. by prematurely accepting the consequences of my actions i afford myself the feeling of guiltlessness. of course, this is childish reasoning. of course i am well past the age of condoning this behavior. and of course, i am too stubborn to have this make any difference to me.

muhahahahahahha

so because my work space was not deemed worthy enough to receive an "A" rating for cleanliness (i got a B) i decided, nay was compelled, to make the "judge/inspector" pay for this oversight. so when judge/inspector went to lunch, i befouled their space with crumpled napkins, open packets of ketchup and taco sauce, paper clips, cookie crumbs, dental floss, screws, old magazines, bits of plastic i found on the floor. a bunch of garbage, and placed the "F" rating they had given to someone else onto their desk. hee!

there was a moment where i paused and considered only doing the paper clips, screws, and bits of plastic. but that hardly seemed amusing enough. i mean, what's the point if no one is going to be grossed out by it?! yes, the ketchup packets will have to be employed, crumbled graham crackers needs must find their way dangerously close to the fresh keyboard. judge/inspector is lucky i didn't have any sticky liquids at my immediate disposal.

suffice to say, judge/inspector was NOT amused. and i was publicly reprimanded.

way to spoil the joke. way to make me feel like a horrible person for attempting to perform the ultimate joke. sheesh.

i'm just a misunderstood prankster.

and maybe just a little evil. half-evil.

studying sisterhood

as we've gotten older, my sister and i have realized we are inching ever closer to being two sides of the same coin. or maybe even the same side of the same coin. while this would normally be a scary coincidence with other people, it seems quite natural for us. and maybe i should be a little bit freaked out by it. maybe feel like half of a person. but instead i find it rather comforting - like having matching socks to put on straight out of the laundry on a cold, wet day. 

observation 1:
we'll walk into the same store, go our separate ways and meet up again 20 minutes later, both of us excited to share our finds; only to discover the other holding the same articles of clothing. or, we'll find stuff for the other to try on because it is in their size and would be something that we would buy anyways.

that's what it was like this weekend. we went shopping together. a bunch of different stores.  we went to giant robot first. i'm more the t-shirt queen than she is. i know i have too many of them already, but the designs are too too cute. and as i couldn't, shouldn't, get them all, i consulted my other other half.  she was able to help me decide on which articles to purchase, which items best fit my identity. some of them can be found here. and i gotta say, the shirts are pretty good.  sooo for me.

observation 2:
our taste buds and food cravings have crossed paths somewhere near the large intestines. ummmm, ok, that's kind of disgusting.  let's say they spark somewhere further up the line, in the neural synapses.

maybe it's out of greed for wanting a little bit of everything, but meals aren't the same with my sister. it's not enough to decide on what i'm going to eat, it's what are we going to eat? it's a talent born from necessity, developed by indecision, and fine-tuned by gluttony.  it's a way to maximize culinary contentment.

this was practiced time and again this weekend. at the dodger game - well, let's get a dog now. then later we can split a nachos, and maybe popcorn and cracker jacks. at the tofu fest - ok well, are you going to get the soy tacos? then i'll get the tamale. what else sounds good? ok, then get that and i'll get this and we can enjoy it all. excellent. sounds like a plan. at the movies - i'll prolly get nachos, so maybe get popcorn and we can get our own drinks. cool. 

really, we should not be surprised where all of this goes. must learn to eat for one, as one.

observation 3:
our attention and devotions will be offered up to, ideally - a brunette, with glasses, good style, good taste in music, smart, funny, a healthy body and adventurous appetite.  an accent is appreciated but not necessary.

we walked this morning and were discussing - boys. we were going over the ones that came before, the ones that have truly fallen, the ones that are still around but have lost some of the old love. we questioned those special qualities that determine goodness. a list has been formluated, characteristics have been carefully ranked, and it's agreed, potter is the one. potter during the quidditch scene in PoA. very good. maybe there will be two more radcliff(e)s to add to the collection. :)

yes, the older we get, the more we share, the more we realize "you are me." different flesh born from the same blood. inextricably connected, unforgivingly familiar, yet not claustrophobically close (anymore, that is).

conclusion:
we are two of the same side of this maglangque girl with the indefatigable fetish for footwear and knack for affordable couture. and if we had it our way, we'd both end up radcliff(e)s.

owie

somehow i have managed to jam up a knucle on my index finger.

now i can't make a decent fist.

what if i need to punch somebody? what if i need to accuse someone of perpetrating unkind acts? what if i need to do a lewis black impersonation for a chance to win a million bucks?

yeah, life's unfair and sometimes sucks.

 

where has all the britpop gone?

lately i've been hankerin' a dance at a good britpop club. and at this point a bar with enough floor space to shimmy on will do the trick. i don't think the kids nowadays pay much attention to britpop.  indeed the scene has fallen by the wayside. even when we were all really into it there wasn't enough interest to keep a place pumpin' - let alone open.

so what's a girl like me to do?

bang! has decent music but i hate the venue and am not crazy about the crowd. the place makes me feel o-l-d. and when you want to relive some aspect of your youth, this is not the place to do it.

underground has decent music. and the crowd's alright i suppose.  granted, i haven't been there in quite a while. but the place is tiny. and that makes it too hot to get onto the dance floor.

popsuperstar was wonderful. especially when they moved to the place on robertson. lots of open space. good music. but the crowd was almost non-existent. which didn't necessarily dissuade me and the other britpop kids from going. those were such great times! oh how i miss them.

looking in the l.a. weekly i have found that there's a place that every 3rd saturday plays some britpop music.  don't know anything about the place. it's at the echo. and i'm not too hot on the name of the featured night, "hang the dj." just smacks of obviousness. and maybe lameness.

but who knows, maybe it's worth a shot.

takers anybody??

just as i am

i was very pleased with the stars today. they were speaking to me. they even used a phrase (see italics) from a movie that i love love love.

Virgo
You have a wonderful opportunity to take a break from your quest for perfection and celebrate yourself just as you are.* Dare to flaunt it, because you sure do have it! A little advertising draws positive attention to something that already speaks for itself. You're the perfect balance of optimism and realism. Once you know what can be done, waste no time in doing it. Wait for another day to reshape your life.
- By Astrology.com

wonderful! fabulous! today is going to be one of those days that leaves a permanent smile on your face, a smile that goes to bed with you.

and then i got sorted. hufflepuff. wonderful. fabulous. :\

so this morning, the usual joking with "mr. poison paranoia" about his ailing fish turns serious. and i'm accused of being mean. he scowls.
now normally i would accept this as faux fighting. but something in it starts to ring true. like he means it. like i'm really mean! *scoff*

how is trying to help the fish feel better, mean? how can i be mean when i'm trying to help you?

and so the scale is starting to tip from optimism to realism.

and i begin to doubt myself, to wonder if people really see me as this mostly mean person who is sometimes good. i know i can be bitchy. i do have a little venom in my speech. i make fun of people often for no other reason than that it amuses me. but shit, that's for other people's entertainment, too.

and this has put me in a bad mood. and i refuse to speak any further with MPP about anything. don't joke with me. i'm mean. remember??

i go to lunch with my friend, "cat", who i barely ever see anymore. so i try to put my bad mood aside. focus on the good of the stars. focus on the face of a friend who has helped me forget that work often sucks.

so we try this argentinian place that i hadn't been to but had wanted to try ever since seeing the cute little animal icons on their menu. and during our meal he tells me that he's had his review at work. thursday he was so happy because he heard that he was going to get a promotion. so what should have been a celebratory lunch turned into a bitch session extraordinaire. not only did he not get a title change, but he didn't get much of a raise. and his review didn't even come from the head of his department. poor cat got shafted. they gave him the same bullshit line that i've been hearing more and more of these days. that if you'd just speak up you'd be better rewarded. forget hard work. forget job well done. if you blab to hear the sound of your voice, if you pucker up and kiss the ass that shits on you - even if you're a total jackoff  - you'll get the goods. i'm sorry but that's what has gotten the place so fucked up in the first place!
yet i know deep down that it's typical. that it's just the way of the "one."

the pull and draw of realism is bearing down. and it's getting on my nerves.

sometimes i think i let my superstitions get the better of me.  i want to believe in the benevolence of astrological forecast. then when some other silly superstition comes along to contradict the first superstition, i allow it to take over. like there is no choice in the matter. like my every move is predetermined, is scripted, is dictated to me by superstitious belief.  

so i'm hufflepuff today. which means that i'm a tertiary character who must try harder than anyone else to achieve success. hmmm, try harder. ok, let's try it.

today i am determined to remedy all misgivings and misunderstandings by willful perseverance, by action and personal choice. time to throw the superstitions away. or at least not pay them so much mind. it's time to celebrate myself - just as i am.

 

 

*from bridget jones's diary

 

love and itunes

ok, so i'm a dork who has spent the past 5+ hours putting together a mix cd of fun, sweet, playful, heartbreaking (kinda) love songs. it takes a lot of figuring and refiguring to put the songs in a decent listening order. put on top of that matching themes. and on top of that matching exact words and you'll be at it for... oh 5+ hours.

but i suppose i'm pleased with the results. even if i had to ditch quite a few songs. ah well...

for those of you who are interested, here's the track listing:

01. i don't want to set the world on fire - clem snide
02. harness your hopes - pavement
03. don't falter - mint royale
04. come on let's go - broadcast
05. going blind - the go-betweens
06. if there's such a thing as love - the magnetic fields
07. you turn me on - cinerama
08. the sun on his back - camera obscura
09. the only man in town - moose
10. batten down the hatch - snow patrol
11. maps - yeah yeah yeahs
12. sooner or later - slumber party
13. tonight you belong to me - josh ritter with blake hazard
14. your favorite music - clem snide
15. good music - blur
16. specialist - interpol
17. tiny vessels - death cab for cutie
18. nothing like a song - azure ray
19. home soon (the cherry song) - sarah harmer
20. arrangements of shapes and space - camera obscura
21. true love waits (live) - radiohead/thom yorke

 

mother moth and blond butterfly

a friend at work told me this story of his first day at kindergarten. his mom had dropped him off in the playground without guidance of any kind. not knowing where he was or why he was there, he hid in a giant play pumpkin for half the day before some lady found him.
 
i liked the story so much i decided to write a poem about it.
 
 
"mother moth and blond butterfly"
 
marooned by mother moth
on a day of awakening
tiny child with firewhite lashes and sun kissed hair
holed himself in the carved out image of a giant pumpkin to while away the day
tried hide and seek without a playmate
and so kept secret, made safe
a blond butterfly in the making
dormant in a fiberglass cocoon 
and reluctant to change
 
mother moth left no instruction, no clue
for blond butterfly to pursue
and half-formed wings too scared to stretch
grew silent still with bated breath
as pearled drops drew paths
down skyward eyes and dewy lash
 
would that i could lift blond butterfly
from inside out the guarded gourd
find comfort for his fluttered heart
and with soft whispered words send him along with loving start
 
but now our yesterdays have given way
to weathered winds and summer days
and i know not how, or indeed with whom
he took to wing from swollen cocoon 
  
so to this day hope, i might delight 
in sweet blond butterfly's soaring flight  
 

rise and shine

i should have started this entry when i woke up this morning - 4:38am. but instead i tried to go back to bed. only to concentrate all my attention on the cats moaning in the night. the sun was laying low readying its assault. and i was wide awake.  the pillow of darkness over my eyes would not allow me an extra moments repose.
 
rise and shine.
 
fine.
 
 
 

T R O U B L E

last night i got drunk for what seems like the first time in a very long time. it was the gana's last day at work and there was an open bar celebration for him at pinot. open bar! no two limit, drink ticket event, this! no beer and wine exclusivity. this surely spells T R O U B L E.

i order my first cosmo. it's hot and i'm thirsty. it goes down easy. T.
i'm anxious to get away from the group i've been conned into talking to. i casually walk to the empty corner of the room. it's hidden. it's the first place you should hit when entering the room. but for whatever reason everyone is sitting along one wall, in a straight line that makes talking in groups difficult. "mr. poison paranoia" is sitting with "hua mei" and they refuse to occupy the corner with me. they suck. fine. i meander over to the safety of my peeps. "mr. poison paranoia" hardly knows anyone there. so i clue him into some of the people i have nicknames for -- see that lady in the mini-skirt? that's "make-up by." she must have a performance today cause her cheeks have extra blush on. the woman standing closest to the fireplace. i call her "sim." it's short for simian. over there in the blue dress, she's "seaweave." several years ago at some other company function, my friend saw her "emerge" from the ocean. her hair was wet. like seaweed. but her hair was weird. so she became "seaweave." yes, MPP, i am "the bad." i do have a lot of names for people. and you have one, too. muahaha

another drink? sure. cosmo number 2. R. still shooting the shit with MPP who is drinking 18-year-old single malt scotch. they did say open bar. MPP keeps distractedly looking at his cellphone because he's supposed to have a meeting at 8. put it away. you're not going to make it. have another drink. and keep talking to me.

finally lk and "mr. o'fox" arrive. hooray! they join me and MPP at the bench. where are the hors d'oeuvre? is this duck? esta es pato? no pato? lk had something that was either duck or not duck. we weren't sure. there were also a couple of chicken on stick things. but that was about it. no real food to speak of. this could be "the bad."

the roast is about to begin. everyone is looking around for gana. someone says he's in the bathroom. i say, perhaps a little louder than i thought, that he was doing #2. people look at me. some snicker. some just stare. heh. there were speeches made. gana was given gifts. and now the traditional gag tape farewell. i thought it was going to be horrible. beni.p. was in charge of writing it and coming up with the bits. but i thought it was well done. and quite amusing. every department was allowed to call gana on the shit that drives them crazy. the anchors and producers are waiting for script approval, the researchers are brown-nosing, online gets a few (read: five million) changes for their columns, graphics is having trouble getting all the sponsor logos (five million) on the damn morphing map, etc. every thorn in the side brought to surface, every fuck-you-up-the-ass mistake brought to light. and that's how we really feel. now here's your fucking carrot cake! :p

the bar is still open. but for not much longer. and now everyone is trying to get their drink orders in. o'fox, MPP and i make the rounds. one more cosmo, please. O. i run into "cat". and am happy to see that cat's being chatty and friendly, so it dispels all my recent paranoia. i have not annoyed him beyond all repair. he tells me jon cryer is in the next room. wait, duckie? si, pato. we listen to our dorky ringtones, we formulate a plan to get outside without having to run into gana, and we accidentally splash our drinks onto the other's foot. accidentally. great. now i need another drink. U.

o'fox ditches his "yogurt" class, MPP puts off his meeting, smarty's ready for the next thing. but lk bows out with "sass." and i'm just hoping my car is where i left it. apparently everyone is going over to hollywood billiards. gana's buying. o'fox says let's roll. and we do.

hollywood billiards. i'll have a newcastle. B. o'fox and i play against MPP and smarty. i am sooooo going to kick my boss' ass! our team breaks. we're solid. awesome. maybe the drinks helped but i was on my game last night. made 3 shots in a row. made a really nice bank shot into the center pocket. the other boys were amazed. where's my fins, you say? hustle hustle and nice set up for o'fox to sink the 8 ball.

new game. and a lot more smack talking. and oddly, a lot more pop-locking. are you trying to step to me? i'm obnoxious at this point. getting a little loud. with a capital L. another newcastle over here!

i go around to some of our other tables and mingle, make mischief. it's all the same. and then things turned into an old budweiser commercial where we all just start telling each other how great the other person is and how glad we are that they're in your life because they bring such sunshine to it and warblksfordoglkd.

so it's warblksfordoglkd time and i'm getting a sneaking suspicion that the drinks are catching up to me. MPP and i got out for a smoke and we get to talking about the weirdness between him and "silent kid." and the deal with silent kid in general. the guy hates the job. he doesn't care much for the people he works with. he's just a weird weird guy. i'm so glad that MPP didn't end up being like sk. would have made the room miserable. and i told MPP i was glad he's come out of his shell to play along with us and go out to lunch and, well, hang out. so hopefully he'll keep it up. hopefully. if i haven't scared him off with my particular brand of weirdness. cause we like it when we have good people in the room with us. it makes the days go faster.

back in to collect my bag and gana has just bought a round of jager shots for everyone. E. i'm the first to knock it all back. now i've done it. now i know i'm not going to be well. now i know that what i was looking for i've found. now, under no uncertainty, i am full up on T R O U B L E.

the graphics peeps and prongs are kind enough to sit with me through the beginning phase of sickness. and i feel horrible. for myself and for the people who now have to make sure i'll be ok. prongs gets me water. which i try to down. smarty suggests i drink as many glasses as i can. i'm apologizing profusely. and concentrating on not closing my eyes. if i close my eyes, i spin. and i do not want to spin. another glass of water and i'm needing to pee. but i don't want to get up for fear of throwing up in front of everyone and the online peeps. it sucks to be drunk with an audience of people you like and work with. sucks. eventually i get up from my chair and hurry into the bathroom stall. heave. and it does wonders. i wander back to the table and drink a couple more glasses of water.

and the night's still not over...

so now everyone has gathered at gana's house. it's a lovely spanish style house in the hills of los feliz. impressive to be sure. there were a lot of people i don't really know well, but enough people that i was happy about - music guy, cat, prongs, mpp, smarty, hua mei, o'fox. safety in numbers. so i didn't feel so weird being there. gana handed out cuban cigars to those that wanted one. people were drinking and smoking and continuing on. i still felt a little sick. but was on a water chaser marathon session. suddenly i catch a whiff of cigar smoke and run in horror to empty my stomach into some bushes in the dark. [shakes head] so so sad. in all, i think i threw up five or six times last night.

but it wasn't all horribleness.

once my stomach had settled, once there was nothing more to give, i was able to relax and enjoy the company of my co-workers. i got some quality time in with the C1Cs - held exhilerating conversations, laughed with wild abandon, made interesting discoveries, found different perspective, gained deeper insight, and got on the wrong end of some jacuzzi hijinks (you guys are going to pay). best of all i felt a lot closer to the people i work with. today i knew i'd pay...

but it was worth the trouble.

what a difference an "a" makes

what a day yesterday. it started off like any other typical day. morning coffee clutch. sorted into houses. then visited "music guy" for some cds.  got back to the office and listened to sound effects. real nerd fun. we transported ourselves to the docks, into a jungle forest with gorilla calls and exotic birds, to desert mountains with coyotes. it must have sounded weird from the stairs.
 
at some point, "smarty" ripped his pants at the crotch. we offered him all kinds of quick fixes - staple it, sew it with metallic thread, use double-sided tape, super glue it, some kind of rubber band and paperclip combination! - none of which he took. nonono, he was gonna have to go home and change. which meant little tokyo. which meant "s". which meant another great lunch excursion with "mr. o'fox" and "smarty hahn" to this spot we love for "terrorist sushi."  (sadly, "mr. poison paranoia" was still worried about his "boylimia", so he opted out).   
 
"terrorist sushi" place closes daily between 2-5pm. we consult the clock. at the tone the time will be - 1:18pm. ack! let's go, let's go! we hop into the "intellihahn's" car and book it over to his part of town and luck out with a parking spot right across the street from hama. the sushi here is sooooooo good. oishiiiiiiiii. (i think that's how you spell it) o'fox might have had to slap someone's mama it was so good. the hamachi here is incredible. nice and buttery, it practically melts in your mouth. the seared albacore is quite delightful. it's got a tantalizing tanginess about it. and i love their preparation of unagi, broiled until the edges begin to curl and all the fat turns crisp. mmmmm. such scrumptiousness. we were three very happy little piggies.  
 
so back at the office food coma starts to set in. i'm the sleepikins. smarty's the sleepikins. ---- now, i hardly ever do this, but for whatever reason (probably food coma sleepiness) i decide i have to lie down on the couch for a quick power nap. just to get my strength back before the night's festivities. so i'm sleeping on the couch. smarty's in his chair, his head cocked back, mouth slightly agape. i was on the verge of deep sleep when clunk, clunk, clunk - here comes someone climbing up the stairs. my cellphone rings. i jump to answer it. in walks the soon to be ex-head honcho, "Gana." what timing! thank god glyphic called or else i would have been found sleeping on the job. maybe i shouldn't have been worried. he is leaving after all. but what bad form! unfortunately i didn't make it back to my desk in time to close out my IM windows and other random shit. it's ridiculous i've made it this far.  
 
later...  
 
a typical day turns a-typical night.

i: miss poker

sooo tired today. headachey. i was up kinda late last night watching the american poker championship final table. it was the first ever live poker tournament.  it lasted four hours. most of the players got knocked out within the first hour and a half of play. the third place finisher had been the big stack for most of the tournament and was expected to finish on top. but he was playing against phil ivey and this amateur internet player who was getting a string of good cards. not that it was entirely in the cards, the internet guy could play.  even howard lederer was impressed by him. the internet player was young at 21, but he may become a force to be reckoned with. much the same way that chris moneymaker has come into the game. but what was really amazing was that the heads up play mirrored our last poker tourney at glyphic's.
phil ivey and internet guy (sorry, i just can't remember his name right now) were heads up for over 2 hours. with the lead switching a couple of times before the final hand. pocket 5s against pocket jacks. pocket jacks stood and phil ivey was awarded the $500, 000 first prize. internet dude who was starting to look emotionally fatigued by the length of play ended up with $250,000. not bad. not bad at all. too bad the pay out at the home game wasn't this big. heh
 
kinda makes me sad to miss poker tonight. :(

the underachievers are trying harder

so here's a sad little story to share with you all. i couldn't find anyone who willingly wanted to see some live music with me. it took a coin toss to get someone to see camera obscura at the troubadour last night. with the loser of the coin flip accompanying me. don't all volunteer at once boys. sheesh. yeah, must be my charm.

glyphic said he'd go, but he looked so bothered and disinterested that i'm actually very pleased that the coin chose against him. it allowed me the opportunity to really talk to the lucky loser. something that might not have happened otherwise. leave it to the stars to find the better fortune.

we got there early. really early. with doors usually opening at 8, i figured the opening band would go on around 8:30 and play for 45 minutes, leaving camera obscura to take the stage around 9:30. i was wrong. opening band started at 9. so CO wouldn't go on until 10. and because lucky loser and i got there at around door time, we had nearly an hour to kill before hearing anything. so we talked some. and we agree - there is no hope for the future and only a select few are ever fortunate enough to love what they do for a living.

9 o'clock. on go the opening band. i forget their name. but they're really forgettable. they sucked. hard. lucky loser and i joked that they were tuning for the entirety of their set. that or they weren't sure what was going on. they would start a song, gaze off glassy-eyed and get startled back to life realizing they had instruments in their hands. it was really quite bizarre. at one point various members of the band switched roles completely with other members of the band resulting in some cacophonous mess. they played musical instruments like... like musical chairs. we thought it was a neat experiment, but probably would have been better suited to a band that actually sounded good to begin with. the band played songs that were the beginnings or the under layers of what could have been a better song. they just didn't know how to get there. it was horrible. but they did have a fan. some dude way up front near the stage was dancing with gusto. if he had only turned around to see that no one else was doing it he may have saved himself from scrutiny and embarrassment.

during the break between bands i ran into this girl who used to work at the same company as me. we were in different departments and really didn't have much reason to ever talk. but we did kind of have a friend in common. she left before i could get to know her. but she was the kind of person i would have liked to make friends with. she has good taste in music, she's flip, and she didn't kiss ass. you could tell she was good people. we caught up a bit and equally expressed our disappointment that we didn't become friends at work. but we did exchange info, and she said she'd go to shows with me if i couldn't find anyone else to go with. hooray! no more coin tosses!

camera obscura came on while i was buying a shirt. they sounded good. like a simpler belle and sebastian. and the scottish accents are way cool even if you can't really understand what they're saying. they made a little joke about the night feeling a bit like a prom. kinda sappy and sweet. a honey drippin' night of good times. i wish they had played a few more songs. it's fun to sing along to, even if the sound does seem a little repetitive.

it could have been an evening of social agony, but the underachievers were trying harder. and the footloose and fancy free who generally don't do crowds shone like new pins before they were left to go home.

a girl amongst boys

i was in a restaurant this past weekend when i made the comment, "i don't really like girls." and it's got me wondering what i mean by that.

it's not that i'm particularly tomboyish. i used to be a lot rougher around the edges when i was in elementary school. i used to play tag football in the streets, swung from downed electrical wires (maybe they were telephone wires) in total tarzan style, i even used to jump off the roof of our neighbor's playhouse. i was mischievous the way boys are. i liked mud. liked to run and chase. and i remember one time being really naughty and taking the neighbor's stashed Playboy magazines out and putting them on display in their front yard so that people driving on the street could see these nudie images.

these days i wear skirts because i choose to. i love to go shopping, especially for clothes and shoes (maybe this is more a symptom of being filipino than girlie). i paint my toenails. and will gladly dish the dirt with my other girl friends. yet i dissocicate myself from most girls. and if you took an inventory of my friends you'd find that most of those that have withstood the test of time are boys. curious.

maybe it's easier for me to bare my soul to the opposite sex because i'm less likely to get a catty response from them. maybe i like that when they listen they don't always have an answer. then there's the comfort of the shoulder to unload your burden onto. and the hugs that, because they are more masculine, feel safer. comforting.

i'm also fairly vulgar. i enjoy the shock that my over-the-line comments receive. it's so unexpected coming out of this frame. and boys are more likely to laugh with me than at me for talking like a sailor.

i've never relied on my looks to get anywhere with boys. i don't consider myself terribly pretty. cute maybe. gorgeous never. but charming as hell. i can't compete with the beautiful and poised. so i've got to rely on my sense of humor. so my ego gets a boost from being flirty and charming even if it's really for no other purpose than to feel a little bit better about the kind of girl i am.

which is not to say that i don't have any girl friends. i do. some really fabulous female friends in fact. but they're not, how do you say, girly friends. you will not see us doing group mani-pedis or having make-up parties. the good girlfriends i keep are my kind of girls - meaning, they are like me. they, too, tend to have a lot more guy friends and have similar senses of humor. and more importantly, they're annoyed by the real girly girls.

hmmm, i don't think this satisfactorily answers anything. :/ maybe i'm a girl amongst boys when i should be a woman amongst men.

dressed in sorrow and suffering

i've returned to color. for a while, mostly in my junior high years, i refused to wear anything vibrant or colorful. if it wasn't black or any of the jewel tones, you probably wouldn't see me in it. and you could just forget about pastels and white.

today i'm robed in shades of sorrow and suffering. but it's not what you would think. i didn't cross into pleasantville. i'm not a little storm cloud hovering in the sky. i'm mountains majesty. i'm desert sunset. i'm wounded heart.

i've come around to liking and wearing purple. different shades of it. today's ensemble consists of three different hues. well, two that are really noticeable. plum colored pants and a lavender tank top with a white hoody. very summer. and i feel good in these colors of regal importance.

but purple is also associated with spirituality. "Purple speaks of fasting, faith, patience and trust. It is the liturgical color used during seasons of penance, Advent and Lent."
and i feel like i'm letting the color down in this respect, like i'm not doing it justice. i find myself lacking in faith. i'm not talking about religious faith, more like normal everyman faith. trust in invisible amity, commitment to connective bonds.

i'm mourning the perceived loss of friendship. i know i'm crazy to think it. but i get this way now and again. i'm looking for visibility and tangible things. i'm needing a hole in which to place my hand. i'm not content with relying on the common experience of a mutual past. the past seems so far removed today. and it's hard to think on the good times when my mind is clouded with doubt, when i tether on the edge of forgetfulness.

it's a subtle hurt that i've brought upon myself. something as unreal as the loss. something i know will pass with penance and time.

and so i feel purple: the color of a healing bruise.

to sketchwich and back -- consuming the legend

i realize most of the day's posts were illusively obscure.

so here's something more straightforward for the epicurious to digest:

there's this sammich place in the Macarthur Park district called "Langer's" that lk and i went to a while back. the story behind the magic corned beef grew and grew until finally the tale had become legend.

we lured some new recruits to brave the wild and join us on another lunchtime excursion. lk, "mr. o'fox," "music guy," "mr. poison paranoia," and myself squeezed into "MPP"'s WRX wagon and drove east. this was an exciting combination of people, the kind of group one could cast for an episode of the next big faux-teen WB show. or at the very least, an ensemble that would have made a really great Subaru commercial - complete with Stones soundtrack. yup, so fashionable you'd want to throw rocks at us.

now i don't know if it was my hyperbolic praise of the corned beef that convinced everyone to come with or my gift for exaggerated story-telling, but everyone in the car had high expectations. dammit, if they were going to trek over to sketchville for a friggin' sandwich they wanted to see crack whores, anticipated being accosted by beer-bellied latino dudes in cowboy hats, and prayed to get mad-dogged by the pigeons for refusing them scraps.

we drove around a while since we couldn't make a left turn onto 7th from alvarado. but finally we ended up in the Langer's parking lot. maybe it was the safety in numbers, maybe it was because there were boys with us, but this time the neighborhood didn't feel quite so "hood-y". sure we were a little nervous when these two guys followed us with staredowns while we parked. but we realized they just wanted to sell us fake ids. even the dead rat on the corner didn't freak us out. (we turned seeing the dead rat into some really nerdy potter reference. potter power!)

the five of us walked into the haven of the deli and breathed a sigh of relief, taking in the sights and smells of our sliced salvation. our stomachs echoed with rumblings of hunger and we wished we could settle into a booth and stay a while. unfortunately, time wasn't on our side.

so we bid farewell to sketchville and hurried back to boringtown.

we checked our lunch order when we got back to the office. there were the right number of sandwiches, but the codes scrawled on the butcher paper were confusing. alright, only one of them was confusing. CB - corned beef. got that. HP - hot pastrami. right. makes sense to me. ASS. hmmmmmm... what the hell was ASS??? of course it would be MY sammich!! ASS?!! now i was scared. what i wanted was a CB w/ cole slaw on toasted SD. what i got was ASS. this didn't add up. how do you get ASS from the food combination i wanted? unless, they were trying to tell me something... *suspicious eyes*

at any rate, it was a pretty nice piece of ass.

acting on impulse

today, in an act of desperation and near-resignation, i forced the hand.
and it feels...not quite disingenuous, but cheap. unsatisfying.

sometimes i wish i could leave well enough alone.

the incurable itch

my skin is red and raised. and severely sore from all the scratching.
i tend to forget it for fifteen minutes.
and then the heat rises from somewhere deep below
and my skin turns salamander fire

when is this going to end??

thinking about somewhere, going nowhere

the traffic was pretty smooth until i reached the bend where olive turns into barham. on that wondrous wind that signals entrance into a fake plastic world, the cars were stopped heel-toe, heel-toe.

"what's the hold up here?"

maybe the lights were set to stall, an experiment in anger management. or perhaps it was a test in patience. only the level-headed would pass.

i switched from station to station trying to find a song to whittle away time to. nothing.

and so my mind started pacing...

crushed metal
rubber tracks
the air bag halfway exploded
my flat tire
AAA and 7 mile tows
crushed hope
sentimental soundtracks
the friendship halfway exposed
my deflated ego
CAT and 7 days no show

i'm emptily following other cars and feel more lost than ever.

dim sum and then some

went to chinatown today with the department for some dim sum at ocean seafood restaurant. this was my return visit to the restaurant since i first went there last summer with "mr. o'fox" and "hungry hungry."
we must have just missed the senior special because every person that was walking down the stairs as we were walking up was a good 20-30 years older than us. and they all wore gigantic grandma glasses. hello, cawfee tawk!
before we were seated we checked out the large fish tanks housing an assortment of fresh seafood items. there were bright red cartoon-looking fish with crazy popping eyes, burgundy colored fish with what looked like fuzzy eyebrows, some dungeness crabs, lobsters, as well as a few prawns.
the floor of the restaurant is huge. and there were about 6-8 chinese women pushing their carts around the floor. we were shown to our table; and before we could even settle in or order drinks we were accosted by number #3. #3 pimped steamed shrimp dumplings, fried shrimp dumplings, shrimp and cilantro potstcikers, shrimp and spinach dumplings, scallop and shrimp dumplings on us.
it was insane!! ack! where did that come from? turn around. who put that down? here's a tip: if you don't like shrimp or seafood this is not the place for you. pretty much every item on the carts have shrimp in them. except maybe for the dessert tray. although we didn't try much from the dessert tray so who knows for sure.
so we had five to six different shrimp dumplings on the table when here comes #13. #13 reaches into her cart and pulls out some other fried dumplings, some duck or chicken. we tell #13 to take the duck/chicken away. #20 comes by with her tray and puts down another plate of duck/chicken. i guess we're gonna have the duck/chicken. at least thay didn't bully the chicken feet on us. blech!
finally we tuck into our food, order our drinks, and laugh as the chinese broccoli slips out of my plastic chopsticks. can i just say - i H A T E plastic chopsticks!! they are incredibly difficult to use. especially on slippery foods. i suspect the restaurant offers them for this very reason. to laugh at me. those bastards...
after lunch we decided to check out some of the shops and stands in chinatown. the best was Liberty Aquarium fish and pet store. "mr. poison paranoia" needed to pick up some fish remedy for "thrasher" cause his fish is looking kinda sad. his fins are wilty. and his fighting spirit seems diminished. the poor fella. in this pet store they have some cool little bettas in plastic cups, some puffer fish (cute!), a bunch of different birds, frogs, turtles, crawfish, hamsters, even a bunny for $15. this was maybe the saddest of all the animals in the store. he was in a small glass tank with what looked like a fish lamp in it. and the rabbit was panting. hard. he was super cute but also miserable-looking. i would have bought him if i thought whiskey would leave him alone. but i'd hate to buy him and have him mauled to death. oh well....
they also had baby chicks for $2.50 each. they were cute too, and reminded me of when my brother and i bought (probably illegally) four little chicks from the local pet store. sadly, they didn't grow into chickens because leo, the neighbor's dog, broke into our basement and killed most of them off. fucking dog. he must have been desperately hungry. the neighbors didn't take very good care of him. so i take it back, leo. it wasn't necessarily your fault. but you were a hooligan dog.
after the pet store we walked back through the stands and shops. "hungry hungry" wanted to buy this fake fish aquarium for $10. this way she gets the distraction of a fish tank without the liability. good move. i didn't get anything big. just a couple of soup spoons. they're plastic but look ceramic. and they were only 50 cents each. so in my mind, a bargain buy. hooray for me!
eventually we all packed into "mr. o'fox's" car and headed back to work.

and i get paid for this.

one goat sacrifice later...

so the peeps at work sort of know about this blog. they know it exists. they know i write in it. they don't know the address. and i don't think they'll get it from me for a while.
not until there are a few more posts in here. and not until i feel comfortable sharing it with them.
they are convinced that i'm using them as material. they are wrong. so far.
there's plenty of untapped topics for me to write about. i will most likely turn my attention to them from time to time. but they haven't yet consumed the entirity of this blog. so shut up already about what you think i'm writing! :)
no, "mr. poison paranoia" i'm not writing about your dead frog and your fish riddled with fin and tail rot.

heh here they go again. trying to guess at the name of the blog. if they really knew me it wouldn't be so hard to do. in fact, it's pretty obvious.

right.

surely the clock is slow today....

written in the stars or horror in my 'scope

one of the first things i do when i get to work is look up my stars. but i've gotten to them a little late today and am a bit disappointed in what they have to say to me. not because they forecast tempests, stormy weather, or even light showers, but because, well, you'd think they would know me better by now. here's what i mean:

Virgo
For once you may feel utterly free to fly in any direction you choose. Whichever way you turn, good fortune will be on your side. While key adjectives frequently used to describe you are 'practical' and 'methodical,' the stars find you feeling much more outrageous than usual. Should you go out this evening, you will astound those who know you with your free spirit. Enjoy being the center of attention and surprising those around you.
- By Astrology.com


ok. wait a minute. when have i ever been described as 'practical' and 'methodical'?? these are not the adjectives we're looking for. and as to their frequency of use? i'd say i've maybe been called practical 3 times. including this time from the stars. which is not to say that i don't possess the ability to think or act practically. i have been known on occasion to exhibit signs of a stable pragmatic mind. but for the stars to suggest outright that i am 'practical' and 'methodical' is a bit of a reach. and for that matter a stab in the dark resulting in a poke in the eye. call me constructively conscientious. pronounce me the personification of psychotic preamble. hell, brand me with lexicon that befits my scattered brain. but tag me with 'practical' and 'methodical'?? sheesh!

but isn't it funny that instead of praising the stars for all the good it's prophesizing for me, here i am complaining, nitpicking, and being a bit of a snot towards it. where i should be reveling in all the good fortune that could befall me this evening, i mock the stars in its inability to find the phrase or words that more accurately suit me. i feel the tide's about to turn. the stars are going to stab me in the back and foresee only gloom and doom. ugh. what have i done?? i need to mend the friendship. i need to provide acts of good faith to restore my good standing with the stars. what i need is - A RITUAL SACRIFICE!!!

brb. gotta find a goat.....

ummmm. nevermind.

i think i've got it now. maybe. :???

maybe i just don't understand...

but this blog thing seems wiggy. i've been trying to edit and update the first post. and i think i'm on my five millionth attempt. on IE it's fine. i switch to a different browser and it's all messed up. not updated. what's with that?
ugh.
what am i getting myself into??

just call me "action-packed eris"

so it's back to work after a three day holiday weekend. a mixed bag weekend. friday was a half day and i went over to phil's to hang out. he's a student. an old friend. a sometimes drunk. we went to uncle darrow's for a really late lunch. we both had the fried chicken. (i know. it's bad. and what with trying to feel a little healthier, it's totally the wrong meal to have. why are you so tasty friend chicken? why?) anyways, it totally hit the spot. good crispiness. meaty enough to satisfy. and not at all greasy. pair that with a tangy hot sauce and you've got deep fried heaven.
so we're sitting outside eating our meal. and there's this really annoying - maybe not annoying so much as weird - white dude on his cell phone. the same dude who had used some really cheesy pick-up line on the girl taking orders. not to ask her out or anything. but because he thought he was smooth. and i really wish my memory wasn't failing me at the moment because it was a real groaner. along the lines of - "is it hot in here, or is it just you?" uh huh lame-o, go away.
anyways, this guy was yapping on his phone. but at least he apologized and then walked around the corner so we couldn't hear the phone sex he was calling for. i don't know for sure if that's what he was doing, but it makes a nice story.
phil was telling me all about why he likes the movie Starship Troopers. it's not just a movie about humans fighting gigantic bugs. nonono it's a satire. it's poking fun at fascism. it's doing all kinds of things that its critics aren't picking up on. yes, they use one-dimensional characters. yes, the story is highly implausible. yes, we are going to watch a sex scene and have the woman killed by some big bug. i really couldn't tell you any more about it. i'm not the one in love with the movie. read phil's blog and you can find out more about it - http://studioglyphic.com/blog

after lunch we head back to his place and await the arrival of mr. bandur. he is jobless. sort of. he'd just had to get some temporary-ish computer work that he's been trying to avoid. bandur tells us that he was in santa monica, drove all the way to woodland hills, then drove all the way back out to the westside to avoid margaritas at islands with his folks. good call. sort of. except for that whole driving back and forth from the westside. oh - and also except for the fact that phil was supposed to go see fahrenheit 9/11 with some other people at the grove. which would have stranded bandur and myself at phil's - with no alcohol! i kept telling phil he needed to buy tickets in advance. or at least get there early to do so. he didn't take my advice and ended up missing the movie cause it was sold out.
now what?
cory was about to get off work. the three of us were trying to figure out what to do. as i said, there was no alcohol left at phil's. i had to feed the pete. and i don't know what bandur had to do. prolly nothing except avoid the fridays at islands. there was mention of getting in on the 405 party. driving on the 405 alone sucks ass. whereas driving on the 405 with other people to share in the pain of ass-sucking makes it slightly more bearable. and if you believe that....
suffice to say nobody was duped into joining me for a little 405 action. so i finish off my gin & tonic and head over to jamdat to pick up cory.
cory and i are halfway home when my car starts making noise. like i'd just run over one of those plastic/rubber LABSM cones. luckily for me there weren't that many cars on the 101 at the time. cause it would have made getting off the freeway next to impossible. we pull off at the woodman exit. stop the car and see that my rear passenger side tire is completely flat. and the noise i heard was me driving on the rim. there were two maybe three holes on the side of the tire. like someone was exacting some kind of ghetto justice on my car. i call phil and bandur to let them know how much fun they were missing out on. they just laughed in my face.
so here's the thing. you only get towed seven miles with basic AAA. phil eventually calculated that the distance from the woodman exit to my house is approximately 7.7 miles away. bugger! so here comes AAA, they put the camry up on the flat bed and cory and i squeeze into the front bench of the tow truck. the guy helping us out was pretty nice. a bit weird. but not in the scary i'm-going-to-kill-you way. he tells us there's this place where we can get a tire pretty cheap. so we're driving in whoknowswhathood, and i start wondering just where the hell the guy is taking us. i mean, he seems nice enough, right? turns out there's this tiny used tires/llantas shop along some sketchy road. the owner/employee of the tire place has this gigantic "bear-dog" sitting in the grease of the garage floor. he had the face of a never ending story luck dragon if only it were black and completely filthy. i guess it was some kind of rottweiler or something. a rottweiler something that ate whatever it damn well pleased, whenever it damn well wanted from the looks of it. we weren't sure of its temperament. so when it picked itself up (with some great effort on its part) and waddled in our direction, we kinda froze. it walked up to cory, head slammed his thigh leaving dark grease marks all over his pantleg, and demanded to be pet. it was all very amusing. big brute turned teddy bear.
after a while we got the tire put onto the car and drove home where we stayed for the rest of the night for fear of some other kind of car jinx happening the night before the fourth CCWSOP.

saturday: 7.03.04

went to breakfast with cory, phil, and bandur at maxwell's on washington blvd. the morning of our fourth poker tournament. last tournament i was the first one out. the previous tourneys weren't great either. poor showings. early knockouts. i was determined to be in the money this time around. i've been watching a lot of poker tournaments on tv. bravo's celebrity poker, WPT on the travel channel, repeats of the 2003 WSOP on ESPN. lots of studying. lots of "strategizing." i don't think i'm necessarily a bad poker player. i probably play more by instinct than by the numbers. but i've learned more about ditching cards than i did before. and i've gotten better about calculating pot odds. sort of. i think. i can't read tells or anyhting. but i don't think anyone else at our game really does either. and i'm probably less likely to lose all my money in the games now. i generally hover around the $5 buy-in in the weekly game. so my play is much improved. but how do i get in the money? how the heck am i going to finish within the top three this time? here's how: i learned to play a lot better. tighter in the beginning rounds, more aggressive with my bets and raises, knowing when i have the best hand and knowing how to get out of the way of more dominant hands. and a little luck doesn't hurt either.
i'm always completely nervous in the beginning rounds of play because i'm always thinking "i don't want to be the first one out." for good or bad, i kept getting pretty good starting cards. several pokcet pairs. ace with high kicker. suited connectors. it makes wanting to play tight difficult to do. and luckliy for me, the aggressive play with these starting cards helped put me in the chip lead for a little while. big enough stack to bully some of the other players. but not big enough to muscle the novice player at our table out of my way. what the hell are you staying in for, dude??? and with those cards?!! ugh! very frustrating. it was really unfortunate because i gave that guy a lot of money. who in turn gave a lot of my money to phil. but i did have the pleasure of knocking him out to ensure that i was in the money. the guy went all in with QJ hearts, i called him with pocket queens. the board gave me my set and i sent the guy home. it was a great relief to knock him out after all the crap that i was dealing with on other hands against him. phil went down to mike because the new jinxed hand of the night was pocket 77s. damn you hockey sticks! yup, i lost on pocket sevens to mike during our heads up play. he went all in with AQ or something. he really put me on the spot. i was tempting fate i suppose. i knew that pocket 7s had gone down with other people playing them, yet i believed "surely it can't happen again. right?" wrong. i was wanting to prove a point and got bitch-slapped by the poker gods. never again. the heads up play was pretty crazy though. i think we played for at least 2 hours, trading the chip lead back and forth with suck outs on the river and other cheap stuff like that. it was crazy. mike hadn't eaten. and anisha was waiting for him so the could cook dinner. and mind you this was at like 8:00pm. i really felt like i could win. and it felt really good to be playing well. it's a bit of a rush. by 10pm we were getting really tired. someone had to go out eventually. i tried to make another come back for the title by going all in with an AJ off suit. he called me with K6 off. stupid flop pairs his 6. there were all kinds of cards that should have won it for me. but they didn't come. so instead i settled for second place (which in my opinion isn't a bad place behind mike who always seems to win) and a prize of $24. not bad. not bad at all.

sunday 7.04.04

didn't do too much for the fourth. saw Potter for the third time. i know, i know. i'm an uber-dork when it comes to Harry Potter. but i just love this third movie! cory, ellen and i were supposed to see an earlier showing of the movie, but we got there late and most of the seats were taken. i didn't want to watch from the front row so we opted to trade our tickets in for the next showing. cory went home. ellen and i shopped. i didn't buy anything - which is good. there were things to buy, but i showed some real will-power. uh huh. that's right, W I L L - P O W E R.
after the movie ellen and i saw the fireworks from universal studios while we waited for cory to meet us for dinner. went to tony roma's because we were too lazy to make our own bbq. the ribs were dry. cory's burger a bit cold. ellen's filet mignon looked burnt but ended up being cooked the way she wanted. whatever. it was dinner. it was TR. on a sunday. on the 4th. what'd you expect?
we went back home and watched the documentary Spellbound. it's about a bunch of freakish kids who entered the howard scripps national spelling bee. who are these people??? some of these kids you kinda feel bad for. some of them have parents that push them to excel. some of them have weird parents who want to live vicariously through their children. to revel in their children's glory. it's horrible. some of them are somewhat normal kids who are just nerds. then there are the others, well, harry, who is a god damn freak!! no, little boy, you do not sound like a musical robot!! no, the boom mic is NOT edible. and put down the guitar, you're butchering the star spangled banner! anyways... that kid was weird. ellen said she couldn't watch him for any longer than they showed him without getting all aggro and wanting to kill him. yup, it was pretty bad. and oh gosh, what about ashley's mom who was breaking down the conspiracy against the improper publicization of her baby girl. they didn't get her age right, didn't write her up in the DC papers, didn't give her her proper ...ummmm... "let's just say they didn't give her her props!" mmmph. tell it like it is!
yeah. so that was awesome. A-W-E-S-O-M-E. awesome.

monday 7.05.04

went hiking with e&r. and whiskey. and ellen and cory. (might as well tell you who all went). we were supposed to go hiking up near the starlight bowl. but it was closed. bugger! so we ended up going to ultra-packed griffith park. we hiked up to some garden. i forget the name of it. walked around there for a little bit. waited while whiskey almost got his ass kicked by some horses. it was nice in the shade of the garden. otherwise, it was too damn hot. serves us right for starting a hike at 2:00 in the afternooon!! it ended up being not much of a hike cause we didn't go very far or for very long. usually whiskey can help dictate a longer hike. but whiskey's old (he's 9 now. in fact, we got him july 4th, 1995. happy anniversary (yesterday) to you) and too tired to keep going up the trail. and i think his paws were burning on the sand. poor guy. it's too bad though. i was hoping to see where the trail went. but it was really hot and no one else (except ellen) looked like they wanted to go much further. so we went back down the hill. a short expedition. maybe we'll tackle a longer hike this weekend.

we went back to our house to have a BBQ. we didn't really eat until after 3. we were all famished. and scarfed our assorted meat and non-meat items down in nothing flat. ellen doused her hamburger patty with ground black pepper. crazy ellen and her pepper. we had bratwurst, too. mmmmmmmmm soooooo good. bratwurst with sauerkraut. where did a flip like me get a love for sauerkraut??

we pretty much just tooled around the rest of the day. i watered the plants and gave whiskey a bath. cory played a marathon session of world of warcraft. i started re-reading the fifth potter book. it was chillsville.


tuesday. 7.06.04

almost the end of my work day. and almost the end of my first ever very own blog entry. !!

micah was right this morning when he said he had a new name for me -

just call me "action-packed eris"

that's a good night.