Sunday, November 27, 2005 

Holy shit

It's been said a million times. I've said it myself, but it really is a small world.

I've worked in the legal community for the last six years. Even though I dropped out of law school (I hated it,) somehow, a lot of my friends are lawyers...and I keep attracting lawyers for some reason. I swear, I don't mention penal law anywhere in my profile.

Anyway, I live in San Francisco. The other side of the continent from someone I assumed lived on the East coast. Jesus. Can this be any weirder? I don't think so. I think I'll just pretend that I don't know this person in any other context. Ugh. I think I may be sick.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005 

Starting over

Is there a way to start over with someone, once you've gotten off on the wrong foot? If so, how? I really want to connect with someone, but am unsure if I should make an effort, or if I should wait to let him contact me, if he wants. Waiting suuuuuuccckkkksss.

But I don't want to be stalker girl. So I'll wait. With fingers crossed.

I'm talking about you, Mr. AIM [obvious]



Are you in love? Does the object of your affection NOT reciprocate? Or worse, does not even know you exist? I feel your pain. My love for NYC is unrequited.

I have been in love with New York City since the first time I visited there - relatively recently - in 1998. Laurie and Eduardo had just moved there from Mexico City a few months before. They'd moved out of his company's housing into a (massive) apartment they'd bought on Hudson St. in Hoboken. The view from their living room was lower Manhattan at its most seductive: the river, the Twin Towers, the lights.

Everyday, I'd walk to the Path station with my pass that Laurie had bought me and take the short ride to the World Trade Center stop. I'd get out of the station and just start walking in random directions. I'd get lost, but not care. I was finally in New York. What took me so long?

On each subsequent trip, I'd opted to get a hotel room in Manhattan so I could be enveloped by the City at all times.

When Eduardo's company moved them to London, it worked out that Regina moved to Manhattan - Washington Heights - from San Francisco around the same time. I loved visiting her there. I loved that everyone assumed I was Dominican and was surprised that I don't speak (very much) Spanish. What I didn't love was the trek up to 189th & Broadway. That's far when you're spending a lot of time downtown!

I was a theatre major in college. I went to college in Los Angeles. Not exactly the place for theatre. Friends asked why I didn't go to school in New York. I was afraid. Afraid of being so far from my friends and family, afraid of the big city, everything. I just stayed on the West Coast. I think that was probably one of the biggest mistakes I've made. I missed out on so much of the City, that I feel like I need to make up for lost time. Last year, I went to New York six times. Really. It's gotten ridiculous. I keep thinking I should just move there, but god, it's the other side of the country. I don't know anyone, I don't know where I'd stay, where I'd work. Maybe I'm just being cowardly.

Is it wrong to be in love with a city? Is it weird? I get the same butterflies in my stomach when I'm on the plane, and I know I'll see it soon. I love New York.

But sometimes I cheat on it with Paris. Shhhhh.

Monday, November 21, 2005 

The hometown is on the map...

Thanks to yesterday's bizzare shooting spree, Tacoma has made the national news. People were held hostage in Sam Goody? Cripes. I guess better there than Orange Julius.

Thinking of all the time I wasted spent in that mall as a teenager is mind-boggling. What the hell were we doing? Looking for boys. Shoplifting lipgloss. Eating ice cream. I think I'm probably the only person in history to have applied for a job at the Tacoma Mall McDonald's and not be hired. WTF?!! Of course, in retrospect, it was probably a good thing, but at the time, I was incredulous.

I hope everyone that was injured recovers quickly. Makes me wonder where the mall cops were. Cinnabon, no doubt.

Saturday, November 19, 2005 

I love H & M

Although, the opening today was out of control. We didn't even try to go to Powell St. because when we came out of the BART/Muni station, the line was all the way back to the cable car turn around. Freaking crazy. We went to Post St. instead. still a zoo, but I got some cool stuff, including that new suit I was looking for. Hopefully, it will help me get this ridiculously high-paying job I've been jumping through hoops for.


I was the girl dressed in black

Depeche Mode at the HP Pavillion in San Jose.

Don, Pebs and I met at the Newlyweds' place for drinks, and some questionable, but potent baked goods. What a bunch of hippies.

We decided to stop for a bite to eat on the way there. In-n-Out, is always a good thing. They share a parking lot with Krispy Kreme, so the groom decided to pick some up.

The concert was a lot of fun. I was with Eddie, whom we'd met up with at a bar in San Jo. We had great seats. We danced the whole time.

After the show, on the ride home, the bride - out of nowhere - puked. In-n-Out redux. Eeewww. Most of it landed in her lap or in her bag, poor thing. Some on the floor and my bag and shoe. Oh well, collateral dammage. No big deal. Luckily, there were blankets and a towel in the back. The next couple of rounds were into the blanket.

The whole time this is happening, by the way, Don and the groom were jabbering away about god knows what (football?)in the front. At one point the groom offers the bride a donut. Pebs and I screamed "No!" in unison. "What?," he asked, a bit taken back by our forceful reply. We explained that his wife was sick and had been vomiting. The guys we clueless. Ah, well.

Note to self: Guinness + pot cookies + cheeseburger & fries + donut + bloody mary + Depeche Mode = unpleasant ride to San Francisco!

Thursday, November 17, 2005 

I just realized...

I kind of miss Mr. AIM. Not miss miss, but miss in that realization way of "Wow, I'm never going to talk to that person again." That's sad.

En particulièrement, because he seemed like a good guy. And hot. That too.


I never thought those stories were true...

Until it happened to me.

I had to hang around all day for the phone company repairman to come over.

When he showed up at 2:30, I was wrapped in a towel, dripping wet, having just stepped out of the shower. He said "What seems to be the problem?" I explained how my phone line was dead, but the DSL line was still working. He said he needed to go down and take a look...inside the garage. "Okay," I said demurely. "Let me put something on, grab my keys, and I'll let you in."

He tinkered around down there for a while. When he finally came back up he showed me some nut (or bolt, I don't know) thingie that was cracked. He had replaced the part, but my line was still dead. After some probing around, he the conclusion that the cord leading to the phone from the wall was faulty. He replaced it. Upon closer inspection of the faulty cord I found what I should have suspected all along: rabbit bite marks. Fucking Peanut!!

To repay him for all his help I let him touch my bunny.

I swear this is all true.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005 

If I don't get this job...

I'll be pissed. I had an interview at UCSF two weeks ago. I can never tell how I do in interviews. The people were nice, but you never know. But then, I got a call two days later asking me to come in for a second interview. Great. I met with the ED, and the support staff. I was told that it was between me and one other person, and that we were "quite different" candidates. I am not really a "professional" type, so I wasn't optimistic. So I've now received a phone call asking for references and to schedule a third interview. What the fuck? It's an office job. No freaking security clearance needed. Plus, they've seen all of my good clothes. Thank god an H & M is opening here on Saturday. Maybe I can find a cheap suit.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005 

Okay, how about this?

Without mentioning any names, or identifying features, let's just say that Mr. AIM and I finally reached each other via Yahoo! messenger. Let me also say that it is true that the conversation quickly devolved into my breast size. Also, I was serious when I said (in the aforementioned deleted post) that I really like the idea of this guy.

Maybe I'll just memorize his face so I can use it later.

Also, I probably shouldn't have used the word "dick" in reference. I'm sure he's a very nice fella. My apologies.


Ché bella giornata!

I don't know what's going on here, but the weather in San Francisco kicks ass today. It is so much warmer outside than inside my apartment. I went for a great bike ride today. I am going to hate going back to work.

Monday, November 14, 2005 

What a dick

I can't believe I did that. I removed a post because the subject of that post asked me to. What the hell has gotten into me? No questions asked. Just an "okay" from me. I feel like such an asshole when I roll over like that - so I usually don't. Now, generally speaking, I really don't like to hurt people's feelings. But come on. I didn't make anything up. I was, in fact, pretty flattering, I think. Jesus. What I won't do for a cute boy, I guess.

I seethed about that for a while.

I do feel better now, though. I've almost finalized my plans for my trip to Normandy/The Netherlands/Belgium. Although, I kind of want to ditch my travel partner. We went to LA together in August to see the King Tut exhibit and she drove me fucking nuts. Maybe we can just spend a couple of days together, like at the Mont St. Michel or in Saint Aubin-sur-Mer. I don't know. I'll have to work it out. I've never been to The Netherlands, so I'm super excited. It'll be end of March thru mid-April, so I'm totally looking forward to seeing the tulips. Pretty, pretty.


Six questions

I'm reposting this from Megs, hoping for better results.


No matter how random, revealing, rude, or pointless

I promise to answer them 100% truthfully

[Repost this to see what others ask you]


Une amitié fini plus vite qu'il a commencé!

Et, alors. C’était neccesaire pour enlever le poste précédant. Ce n’est pas grave. Je n’aime pas blesser les gens. Mais vraiment, parfois on vit les sentiments à l'envers. Et je m’en fou. C’est dommage, parce qu’il est vraiment bandant. Je sens que nous allons nous entendre à aucun contact de plus. Je m'excuse.


Everybody good now? Excellent.

Sunday, November 13, 2005 

How AIM is (unforgivably) messing up my game, yo

I've been reading I Keep a Diary for a long time now. I'm not sure how I found it, and god knows Brian's updates aren't what they used to be - the content is as good as ever, but they're a year behind.

So a while ago I'm reading through some of his back entries (back entries, ha!,) where he introduced us to one of his friends. Have you ever seen someone and just been gobsmacked? Well, I don't know why, but I saw that dude and was like "Um, yes. More please." BTW, the reason I'm not posting his name or linking to to his photos? While I have no problem doing so with people I know in real life, I think it's quite another to put someone you don't know "out there."

Anyway, last night I was on Nerve Personals ('cause I need to add more names to the previous entry...) and I saw him. He was online at that very moment. I sent him a message asking "Are you ---?" He replied with "Yes, do we know each other?" I explained to him my semi-crush from I Keep a Diary. He seemed flattered. He asked me if I had AIM, ('cause Nerve's IM is a piece o' crap.) I said yup, gave him my screen name and logged on. And then it happened: I got a message from him, and when I tried to respond, AIM crashed. I updated my version. Same thing. This went on for well over 30 minutes. He gave up (who could blame him?)

I hate you AIM. Hate hate hate. With the white hot fire of a thousand suns.

Saturday, November 12, 2005 


Don't even try to pretend you haven't done this.

So based on last night’s unexpected run in with my past, I’ve decided to make some Google inquiries as to what the men I’ve slept with are up to these days…

This list is in neither chronological, nor by preference by the way. Just as the names came, ahem, to me.

Okay. So, I found:

Erik "Pee-pee GG"

Jamie I was his first, ya know! There’s actually a pretty funny/kinda gross story that goes along with it, but I probably shouldn’t post it here.

Nelson I loooooooooved this guy. Another good story: we met in London, reunited in LA...swoon.

Brian (It was pre-homozination.)

Aaron (His byline. Actually, I just saw him in July or August…)

Kelly He’s on this list.

This is Part I in a series...'cause I'm not even half-way thru the list. What a slut.

Friday, November 11, 2005 

Piss and Vinegar

Minus the vinegar.

Jesus. So I went to Lisa Carver’s reading/performance at Modern Times tonight - a three minute walk from my apartment. I was looking forward to the Suckdog experience. There was no actual reading from her book, but she had friends, including Dame Darcy and Jessica Delfino (who, by the way, is a deceptively sweet looking gal!) act out vignettes from the book. As it happens (surprise!), an ex-boyfriend of mine - from like, 12 years ago when I lived in LA - is one of her friends and portrayed GG Allin, clad in nothing but a jock strap, Members Only jacket and a bandana. And that ain't the half of it. Much hilarity insued and as I'm sure everyone knows by now, the finale is a be-wigged Jessica peeing on a pizza. Tonight I got to see her pee on "GG's" face too. Gee Erik, we never did that.

Of course, the best part of the night (barring the crazy, drunk old lady that kept yelling about a round house in Marin??) was how Erik totally dissed me. I went up to him and said "I thought I should say "hi" Erik." He put his arm around me briefly (eeewww, don't touch me, Pee Boy) and said "Oh hey! I'm sorry you had to see that. I'll be right back." Then he walked off and I never saw him again. That's kinda funny. Maybe he's STILL mad about that small penis comment I made at a party? Sorry dude.


(with thanks to jamie of xiu xiu for the blog name)

Yeah, I'm new here at blogger.

Stay tuned for self-indulgent musings of a social retard.