Thursday, December 27, 2007

High school disappoints once again.

Ten years after having escaped high school - nearly enough time to have overcome the trauma of the whole experience - high school has come back to spank me once again, only this time in the form of a reunion.

First, it must be noted that my high school reunion was at Bubba Gump Shrimp Factory. Really? Yes, really. I could not make this shit up if I tried. Actually, I could - but why? If you have never had the opportunity to have gone to this establishment, I have one word for you. Don't. It is a pit. A pit that smells of fish - fish smell being one of my top two least favorite smells in the whole wide universe (the other being that awful "Bleach Tree" smell that permeates through West Hollywood. Ewww.) After we all became acclimated to the evil smell, mostly with the help of bunches of liquor, the real fun began. And by "fun" I mean a bunch of drunkies (or perhaps that was just me) going from table to table telling everyone how great they look, how nice it is to see them, and a bunch of other blahs.

After Bubba Gump Shrimp Factory, we went to a placed called the Mai Tai Bar. Two minutes into our arrival, and my friend turned to me and said:
Did you ever think in your life that you would wish that you were back at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Factory?

At Mai Tai, more drunkenness happened, and then a decision to engage in some late night dining happened, and then the long drive back home happened (Note: I was not driving. Diet Coke does not endorse drunk driving...or any kind of driving for that matter).

All in all, a total disappointment. Not sure what I expected really, as my high school was never like those newfangled high schools like on TV and in movies where quirky big word using hipster high fashion kids impregnate each other and burst out into song and dance at basketball games. Nope. None of that. Just a bunch of self proclaimed nerds trying to figure it all out. After ten years, it looks like most of us still haven't.

Somewhat Related Point: If anyone knows anything about what those evil bleach tree's are, I would love to know.

Less Related Point: At a 5 drunk level, I decided I was going to have a New Years Eve Party (whohoo!). At 10 drunk, I proceeded to invite every one and their mom to my New Years Eve Party (whohoo!). Turns out my New Years Eve Party (whohoo!) may turn into High School Reunion Part Deux.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Year in Review: Lessons I've Leaned Part I.

The year has yet to end, but the inevitable truths keep piling up. I figured I better get a jump on the new year and start my Year In Review with Lessons I've Learned, presented in two parts.

Lesson 1: I have an overactive imagination that causes me to think of insane, and sometimes accurate, scenarios

If something happens that is a little odd, I automatically assume that some real strange shit is about to go down. Case in point, last Friday (as in Friday before Christmas when no person in their right mind would share bad news with another person) I get a call from my Boss's assistant that the Boss wishes to meet with me before the end of the day. This is strange because it has never happened before. True, I have only worked at the fine establishment at which I am employed for a mere two months, but still. Rule of thumb: Big Boss wants to talk, you worry. Plus the whole call had this ominous tone to it (really, it was an email, but whatever). Things that run through my brain (in order): OMGomgomgOMG!!?? I am in big trouble. I am fired. I am going to be reprimanded for reading and occasionally writing blogs at work. I am going to have to work over Christmas. OMGOMGOMG!!! Never did I consider that perhaps it could be something positive. And what was it? Something positive. Conclusion: I am an idiot, and a jumper to negative conclusions and/or extraordinary imaginings.

Second case in point, about a month ago I awake to find my Roomie (aka former Bestie*) has segregated our fridge (literally, we have a side by side and she moved all my stuff to one side and all of her stuff to one side. Strange, yes. True? Sadly, also yes). What do I think? I think of her action as a hostile declaration as to our friendship, her opinion of my choice in milk (I like vanilla soy, she unsweetened almond) and a whole plethora of other bad nasty things. Reality: Err, I was actually kind of on target with this one. While there were excuses made as to why our perishables could not happily co-exist, the truth was more or less what I had imagined. Conclusion: I may be crazy, but sometimes I am right.

Lesson 2: I am a very bad driver.

I actually knew this long before the dawn of the new year. 2007, however, reaffirmed my suspicion. Thirce. Conclusion: Poles, people and pets in the greater Los Angeles area (particularly those along the stretch of Beverly Blvd. from Downtown to Beverly Hills) ought not rest easy until I have earned, won or divorced my way into enough money to hire a driver.

Lesson 3: Most of the things that I have been upset about in 2007 (and in life) are stupid.

Case in point. I shed a good many tears over a certain guy I had dated earlier in the year who was a total jackass. Really. A total jackass. I exaggerate not on this one. Fast forward to now. How often do I think about this guy? Only when I try to reflect on the last year and think about what I learned. Thinking about him doesn't make me wish that I had never met him. Because the truth is, it was fun - kind of a lot of fun. What I do wish is that after it was over, I had not wasted my energy being sad about it. Such is the case with most things in my life. Conclusion: I cry too much about dumb stuff.

Lesson 4: I am a waster of money.

A few months ago I ordered 40 dollars worth of food from Poquito Mas just so I could get one burrito delivered. If I was a country, I would be one with deficits. Big ones. Conclusion: I am a jackass when it comes to money, and perhaps otherwise too.

Lesson 5: I love parties more than just about anything else.

Really, nothing gets me excited like the notion of a party. Whether it is one that I am planning or merely one that I am attending - I love me the parties. The socializing, the people old and new, the friends, the laughter, the anticipation, the unabashed drunkenness. Yes please, can I have another? Conclusion: I am going to make a concerted effort to attend and host more parties in 2008, starting with a New Years Eve Party (whohoo!).

Lesson 6: I am a lucky daughter of a gun.

Really, thinking of it brings big salty tears to me eyes. Perhaps this is in large part to a lovely weekend I just spend with dear friends and family, but D-A-M-N, I am lucky girl. To have so many people in my life that are as glorious as they are, and to be STILL lucky enough to be meeting new people who may be equally glorious. It's just so - nice. Any by nice, I mean totally fucking amazingly awesome. Conclusion: No matter what is going wrong, as something inevitably will be at all times, I have to remember the lucky me part.

Part II of lessons learned to follow in time.

* Earlier in the year I wrote an entry discussing the latest in my situation with Roomie and how upset I was about everything that had transpired. I then promptly deleted it because I felt guilty knocking our friendship (or maybe I didn't want to admit for very long that things are irreparably** damaged). But the more I think about it, the more I remember that the whole point of my starting this blog, and then keeping it anonymous (no person in my day to day life knows of its existence except for Certain Someone) was that so I can write honestly and unafraid of what others think of my thoughts and ideas. If I have to censor myself, that defeats the whole purpose. So even though it still feels a little strange, I am going to go ahead and put it all out there. Again.

** When I say "irreparably" damaged, I am not really sure if I mean it.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

My maybe stalker.

About one point two five months ago I went out with this guy that I had met at a bookstore. Not just any bookstore either. I met him at my FAVORITE bookstore in Los Angeles.

Note to the Ladies before I continue my story: Don't go out with guys that you meet at your favorite places because when things go badly, as they are likely to go, you can't go to that place without a sense of fear that you will run into the person. I know it is temping to think, "I like X bookstore...he likes X bookstore - match made in heaven." NO, such reasoning is faulty. What you really should be thinking is "I like X bookstore...I am not likely to like him for more than 9 minutes because he is probably crazy, thus I should not taint the pleasure I derive from X bookstore by using it as my own personal substitute." Unless of course, the guy in question is exceedingly hot. In which case, carry on. There are other bookstores in the world.

Back to my story.

So I went out with Book Guy. It was one of those innocuous are we or aren't we on a date type dates - coffee across the street from the scene of the meeting. During our kinda date, he employed the oft used second date entrapment technique.

Note to the Men before I continue my story: While the making of a second date while still on the first date tactic can go swimmingly well if the subject is into you, such a maneuver should only be employed by the most skillful dating master. It is likely that unless the person you are with is a total raging bitch (which is entirely possible), you will get an acceptance under duress. HOWEVER, such acceptance is likely actually a rejection. Confusing, I know. But the nut of it is, if you ask a girl out on a second date and she says yes while sitting across the table on your first date, don't get your feelings all hurt if she never answers any of your phone calls, text msgs, etc., etc.

Back to my story again.

I fell into the trap. I said yes - all the while thinking "no way in hell I am going out with you again because as it turns you, you are really annoying me." Sadly, Book Guy was not so tuned into my reluctant, "ummm, sure." He tried for like a month to make a second date happen. At first, I would make up excuses (all via text) why I could not. Finally, I just gave up and stopped replying to his advances all together, thinking - surely he will get the point. And at first, he did. And then he didn't anymore.

Starting a few nights ago Book Guy (who is also incidentally also grad student at UCS guy) has adopted a new technique that is downright creepy. He left a voicemail that went something like: "Hey, Diet Coke. I haven't gotten a chance to call you in a while. I am going to be at UCS tonight until 7. How about I just come by after." Actually, that is verbatim what he said. The problem I have with this message is he speaks as though a) he believes I actually have a desire to see him and b) we have that sort of casual "just swing on by" type relationship. And trust me when I tell you, a) I don't and b) we don't. I obviously ignored the message, mostly because it was crazy, but also because I tend to ignore all things I don't like.

But THEN today, I get the following:

"Diet Coke, what is going on? I left you a msg and you didn't call me back. I think we have chemistry and I want to see you again."

Umm, no. Obviously. NO! If we had chemistry, we'd have gone out more than once over the course of the two months. And I'd have returned one of your 18 phone calls instead of sending you to voicemail and then texting you back about how I can't hang out. And finally, damn you for making it so that I can never return to Book Soup in comfort again.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Oh, high school. How I don't miss you at all.

My impending ten year high school reunion caused me to reflect back on my life back when I was a young and spry college student (which by the way, was easy to do because I have always kept a journal. Note to world: you should all keep a journal.) And it turns out, my younger self was a total idiot.

This is what Diet Coke thought was what during the college era:
These are totally the best days of my life; it is soooo awful that I got an A- on that economics paper, I will never get into grad school with such dismal grades; school is so stressful, I can't wait to start working; I am totally going to marry my college boyfriend and we will have kids named Isabella and Conner; I will forever be BFF with the girls in my freshman dorm; I will forever live on the East Coast, because it, like, totally rocks.
And now:
These are actually the best days of my life. It turns out every year gets to be the best. Totally got into grad school, which it turns out, I wish that I never went to in the first place. School rocks. I would go back in a nanosecond. I dumped my college boyfriend basically as soon as I left my college campus. Connor is the worst boys name ever. I am good friends with about two people I went to college with. Neither of whom lived in my freshman dorm. Los Angeles is where it is at. The East Coast, western Massachusetts in particular, like, totally blows. And also, "seasons" are total overrated.
I don't know why this is significant. But basically, the point is my high school reunion is coming up people! And I am getting old. And it is NOT okay!!! And also, I will soon get a chance to reunite with my favorite group of nerdy, awesome drunkards and be merry and wasted (and old).

Monday, December 17, 2007


Every once in a while I rediscover something that I used to love and then forgot all about. Probably, as I do with most things, I ate/played/used/did it infinity times in a row until the very thought of it made me want to do something bad to my myself and/or others. And then a certain amount of time passes and then like magic, that long forgotten/shunned thing pops back into my life. And I can't imagine why in the world I would have shelved such a glorious thing in the first place, because basically, it's so fucking awesome.

Today, I made two such rediscoveries.

First: The Turkey Sandwich. Simple. Amazing. Healthy-esq. Will likely be my lunch and dinner for the next four to eight days.

Second: Ocean Breaths Salty by Modest Mouse. What an excellent song. Probably not top ten style, but if it should ever play on the radio, I promise the tuner will not be messed with. And if anyone I am with even comes NEAR the tuner, such person will lose .02 points on the "How Much Does Diet Coke Like X Person?" scale.

Also, does anyone still say "tuner" when referring to the radio channel changer? Why am I sounding like a 60 year old all of a sudden?
Well that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed,
when the ocean met the sky.
You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye.
When the earth folded on itself.
And said "Good luck, for your sake I hope heaven and hell
are really there, but I wouldn't hold my breath."
You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death?

Sunday, December 16, 2007

One of my top five days.

If anyone should ever ask me about the highlights of 2007 (not that I am frequently - or perhaps ever - asked such question) I would, without hesitation, site today as one of best days of the year. For starters, it was a lovely, sunny and astonishingly clear day in Los Angeles. I had the pleasure of waking up at my parents home beside my absurdly cute dog, having gone there last night for some loving comfort after a tumultuous Saturday. I left my parents house early to head home and prepare for my hosting duties for the afternoon adopt a family charity bonanza I had been planning. I drove from my parents house on the west side to my own place in Hollywood in 12 minutes flat. On a typical day, I can't even get from my house to the nearest gas station in so short a time. Best of all, my favoritest song of all time, Jeff Buckley's "Lover, you should have come over" was playing on the radio during the ride. Sure, I have the actual CD in my car [which, by the way, is one of my top five albums] but there is something extra special about hearing a song on the radio sometimes. After arriving home, I was Captain Efficiency and got the place together with time to spare. When the guests started arriving, it was sheer, unadulterated, mimosa aided joy. Five hours of do-gooding and chatting with a glorious group of people about hilarious things. Like for example, the male tendency to pee on things when drunk. Fellas, can you please explain, because us ladies are perplexed. I laughed so much, it re-ignighted my whooping cough, which had briefly abated.

Today was one of those days that reminded me how awesome life, mine in particular, is. To all the people who made my today so gloriously lovely, each of whom is nearly sure to never read this, I am so grateful. And thank you!!!

Included for your viewing pleasure is a small sample of the gift giving/wrapping action that took place today. Hooray for bows and pretty sparkle paper!!!

Thursday, December 13, 2007


I made this post disappear.

I am the world wide pinball federation champion of the world.

The much touted December 2007 Work Day Adventure finally took place last night, and what an adventure it was. Negotiating the streets of Los Angeles turned out to be quite a challenge. Certain Someone, who was driving, turns out to have the eye site of a bat. And I am not talking about those frugivorous bats that can see all good and shit. I am talking near blind. Certain Someone also STRONGLY dislikes traffic. All of it. Bad eyes + hater of sharing the road with others = a couple near death experiences, including one where Certain Someone thought it a good idea to sojourn the wrong way down the street and cut off half a dozen cars for no particular reason or gain. Once we got the driving situation under control (use of the work control here is pretty wishful) and found our first destination, we were faced with the trials and tribulations of parking. Four laps around Hollywood boulevard and we ended up at a city sized parking structure at Hollywood and Highland, which for a parking structure, was pretty damn amazing. We did not receive a particularly warm welcome at Power House, the bar we went to. But no matter, we had three dollar pints of Pabst Blue Ribbon to keep us happy. From Power House, it was on to Pavilions gro-SHREE store (see below for explanation), but not before we were nearly sucked into the vortex of two billions screaming children emerging from the Kodak Theater. After a narrow escape and a two dollar (american) parking tab, we were on our way. A man with glass eyes tried to suck my soul out of my body outside of Pavilions gro-SHREE store, but that disaster too was averted. After Pavilions gro-SHREE store there was less adventure, and more good old fashion TV watching. And then came slumber. It was an event filled night, but the highlights are summarized below:

ASS KICKED: I won't mention any names, but a Certain Someone failed to demonstrate that he had a lick of pinball skills. Certain Someone will assuredly deny his lack of pinball prowess. He may even say he didn't get a chance to show how truely great he really is. But let me just say, at the end of night, I remain undefeated in pinball, thereby making me the all time pinball champion of the universe. And Certain Someone? Let's just say there can only be one champion.

LESSONS LEARNED: In some zany parts of the world (Kansas), they call the grocery store a gro-SHREE store. That is just plaid odd.

ASSES ALMOST KICKED: My own. Some bars in Los Angeles that fancy themselves down and dirty dive bars do not look kindly upon people who look like they may have wandered in from the behemoth commercial tourist trap of a hotel recently erected across the street. When at one such establishment, try not to look like such person, and especially don't try to take the seat of the uber hipster as he gets up to go to the bathroom.

LESSON PREVIOUSLY LEARNED AND THEN RECONFIRMED: Every person in the universe agrees (except for like 5 or 6) that it is a bad idea – lunacy even – to have a costume themed wedding.

: One can purchase a really big house in Kansas City for much much cheaper than one can purchase house in Los Angeles. And your neighbors are farther away from you, so you can run that meth lab in peace.

ASSES RIGHTFULLY KICKED TO THE CURB: Steven Rosengard of former Project Runway fame is possibly the last person, ever, EVER that I would to design an "everyday" outfit for me. I mean, did you see the episode? He expects someone to wear that dress? Really? REALLY???!?!!

LESSON LEARNED THAT WILL SOON BE FORGOTTEN: Beer, as it turns out, is not a cure for the whooping cough. Damn you science!

NOTE: I didn't feel like proofreading this post right now - sorry!!

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

The best VHS player ever.

In preparation for the first great work night adventure of December 2007, Certain Someone was looking for a VHS player so that we might watch the "greatest documentary of all time" - Andre the Giant. [Note: this is Certain Someone's opinion, not mine. Although I, admittedly, have not seen this documentary, I doubt I will feel *quite* as strongly about it.] Apparently not liking my idea of scoring a VHS sold for crack money from a pawn shop, Certain Someone turned to craigslist, and it was there that he succeeded in finding the Best VHS Player Ever. So special is this VHS player that in addition to coming with the usual "remind," "fast forward" and "pause" buttons, it comes with a Limo!!! Yes, readers of Diet Coke's glorious blog, you read that night. A mother effing LIMO-FUCKING-USINE!!!

Highlights of the old school P-I-M-P 1995 Lincoln Continental Towncar LIMOUSINE:

** It has "Everything you can possiable think of work perfectly fine."
** "The paint is the origanal color"
** It "comes with T.V that comes out and closes with a push of a bottun."
** And best of all, it has what all us buyers like - a motivated seller: "I just needs some cash so please help me out and in return I will do everything possiable to show you that this is not a problem makeing car so if you can help"
** Affordable, at the fire sale price $3500 American.

Certain Someone has doubts as to the authenticity of the ad, but I still have some hope that Rick the limo seller is for real and we will be watching what may be the greatest documentary ever on the best VHS player ever.

Other Thoughts: Google is running an add for Diet Coke Plus on my web site which makes me sad, because of all the diet coke products that is the one that taste the most like what I like to call "assfoot flavor."

Monday, December 10, 2007

I hope I don't jinx myself.

Things are going exceedingly well tonight.

My belly is filled with chips, salsa and copious (in a good way) amounts of diet coke.

I just had an unexpectedly pleasant conversation with Roomie. Now that we've finally spoken, I forget why I ever thought that we weren't really friends anymore. The things I've been thinking seem so silly now. But I am glad that I was wrong. We still have a ways to go, but I feel infinitely less sad about it.

Work sucks, but such is work. On the plus side, I may have jury duty tomorrow afternoon. That means a half day of the office people!

And a few other things made me happy too, but I feel oddly shy mentioning them.

And George, as he always does, handed me my car keys with glee.

Sunday, December 9, 2007

I just scored another jesus skirt.

I start end every evening with a search on eBay. And I start this nightly session on eBay by seeking out a certain skirt that brings me the same amount of joy as jesus brings the jesus lovers. I am talking BIG JOY here. The skirt has just enough stretch to accommodate even the most gluttonous meal, and just enough fashion to make it wearable for all occasions. Hung over breakfast at Eat Well? No problem. Dinner with the friends at El Coyote? Sure. Drinks at Belmont? Still works. Impromptu drunken sleepover with some guy? Covered.

Sadly, the jesus skirt is no longer sold at my normal go to retailers, or any retailer in the whole wide world for that matter. Even a pleading call to the designer's showroom proved useless. But eBay - my dear, sweet, hero eBay, has saved the day. I just purchased my third jesus skirt via an expertly executed auction snipe and I am happy as a peach. Because we all know that peaches are damn happy.

* I would like to note, that while I love this skirt dearly, probably more than I will my own children - it's craftsmanship is shit. I have had to sew (and trust me, Diet Coke does not sew for just anything) numerous times to keep these suckers intact. To the unnamed designer: you should flog yourself for having the audacity to charge such exorbitant prices for an item of clothing that was likely constructed by Indonesian monkey's.

The creator of the flaming margarita should win a big important prize.

I went out with a Certain Someone last night for the old flaming margarita/Mexican food combo. And what I have to say about it is...a whole lot of nothing. Certain Someone has knowledge of this here blog and I wouldn't put it past the sneaky bastard to be checking out my musing in hopes of getting some super secret insight into my thoughts of our meeting. I mean sneaky bastard kindly, of course. Anyhow, I am off to the movies with Certain Someone. Both he and the movie (Juno) better be amusing! No pressure, no pressure.

I feel a little delirious.

Saturday, December 8, 2007


I've discovered that is it impossible to be unhappy while eating mac and cheese? At least for me.

Friday, December 7, 2007

Desiring to crawl back into my denial/utopia bubble.

Roomie replied to my email (calling it passive aggressive, by the way). Most of what she said, I disagree with. I won't say as much though, because frankly, I am tired. I can't take any more conflict for the duration of 2007 and at least the first quarter of 2008. December, all seven days of it, have been horrid. Damn you, December. Damn you to hell.

An intuitive told me today (yes, this ACTUALLY happened) that she senses a great deal of mental activity...but no action. And you know, I think she is right. So this weekend, I am going to put in my bestest faith effort to drag my cute little butt off of my exceedingly comfortable and comforting couch and get out there and do some stuff. Thanks, intuitive called sunshine.

End Note:

Chocolate really is just amazing. Better than duct tape and the wheel even. Better than portable music devices. But not better than platform heels. God bless platform heels.

"I'll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide
No alarms and no surprises"

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Sometimes nothing is better than something.

And the sagas continue:

1. On T/S. In anticipation of T/S being a flake, as he is wont to be, I sent the following email.

DC: We are on from tomorrow, right?

And then the following barrage of emails ensued (paraphrased and slangified version).

T/S: "Huh?"
DC: "What do you mean, "huh?" No more! I can't take no more!!."
T/S: "I thought we were doing something this weekend."
DC: "Umm, yeah. Like, tomorrow. And if not, you better tell me now or suffer my wrath for all eterntiy."

And then?

NOTHING!! Nothing seems to be the theme of the day (see below for further nothing action). So yeah, I am thinking the plans are off. I am further thinking my relationship with T/S is, for all eterntity, over.

applicable lyric: "I just made you up, to hurt myself."

2. On Roomie. I sent Roomie a passivish/aggressish text to the tune of, "umm, where the eff you been, yo. In case you care, I am here and I am fine." Roomie's reply? None. Nada. Nothing. Jesus, if you can't get your alleged best friend to reply to a WTF text after 5 days of not having heard from the girl, something has gone horribly wrong.

applicable lyric: "What happened to the good old days? I was kinda hoping this was all a stupid phase."

3. In General. What other else do you have in store for me, December? Wait, don't tell me.

applicable lyric: "Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow. No Tomorrow. No Tomorrow."


Before I got to post the above, T/S emailed me back that he has plans on Friday. And I don't mean with me. So that begs the question, why, devil spawn inconsiderate fuck face pickle mouth, if you had plans on Friday, did you fucking let me believe that we had plans??!! Also, let me point out, that had I not preempted the day of flakery...he'd have done it again. To you, T/S, I say - fuck you.

I of course, replied with a song lyric.

I really want something good to happen. Really really. Please. Universe.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Not so much "game over" anymore.

Sooooo...T/S has been putting on the full court press. And I, ladies and gents, am a total sucker. When T/S asked me for a play day date this weekend, I search for my "fuck off" attitude. I searched for it long and hard. And then, with a giant smile, I accepted. Where is my resolve? My indignation at his blatant flakery?? My disgust about his lying ways???

And the score at half time is:
Diet Coke - 15
T/S/F +4

Sometimes I think men exist only to torture me.

Your friendship is a fog.

I had, still have in theory I suppose, a best friend. And our relationship of late has totally began to suffer, to the point of non-existence, as a result of her dating a new fellow. The guy in question seems like a totally upstanding, caring, good man and one that she should indeed be with. The problem is that since they have begun dating she and I have basically ceased to be friends (aside from a few farcical encounters here and there). In fact, the last time I hung out with the friend in question (and I happen to live with her, thereby making the situation increasingly more absurd) was Halloween. HALLOWEEN!!!!! I considered saying something to her directly in hopes of salvaging something, but then I concluded, what is the point?!?! I hate to say/think/admit this, but if she ever truly ever were a friend of mine, she still would be. I understand that the dynamic of our friendship would naturally change as the result of one or both us entering into a serious relationship, but this here is total abandonment. So what am I to say. "Ummm, please be a better friend to me?" Seems silly. So I won't. Instead I will anonymously complain to the world wide universe how I am upset that this friendship has decayed into oblivion in the course of a month. I also realize that she probably sees things differently than I do. This must be how it feels to be in a bad marriage.

Anyhow, it all makes me think of a rage against the machine lyric that goes, "your friendship is a fog, that disappears when the wind redirects." Sad!!! I hope I am being melodramatic and none of what I have said is true.

On the bright side, and in totally unrelated news, I lost two pounds. This is all part of the Highly Scientific Experiment (more to come on HSE later).

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Daily dose of humility.

There is a man named George that works in the parking garage at my office. Every evening, he hands me my keys with such enthusiasm that it literally puts a smile on my face. It warms my heart and makes me think that if George can feel joy working the night shift in a dank underground parking lot, so to can I driving home to my fancy house in my fancy car.

Also, I am going to give get George a slamming gift for Christmas.

Thanks G.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Send me some love.

Is anyone reading this fucking thing?

And by "fucking," I mean this awesome compilation of amazing and life altering thoughts.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

The sun came out a tad.

My Sunday has been far better than my Saturday. I went to a wake that ended up being like a giant supportive party, except all were in black. Jupiter impressed me. T/S is trying to work his way back in (and I am, thus far, doing a good job of keeping him out). All in all, a good day.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Bad Decision Making Brewing.

This guy I met at a Halloween party. Jupiter his moniker shall be. He is charming in a weirdo, aloof, stoned sort of way.

His Pros: potentially smart, occasionally really fun, engages in like minded activities as myself, drinks well, nice seeming, happy.

His Cons: potentially an idiot, perpetually stoned and/or stoned seeming, lives outside my preferred 5 mile radius, doesn't seem like he'd be terribly amazing in bed.

Anyhow, he just texted and wants to meet for a drink tonight. Normally, I'd say no, as I am pretty sure I am not interested in him. In fact, I was just telling my friend a few days ago just that. But tonight, because of bastard face T/S and his flakery, I shall accept Jupiter's offer. Hopefully, such decision will not bite me in ass.

A new chapter begins. Or is an old chapter being reopened?

Game Over.

T/S bailed on me, as I suspected that he would. Even a sucker like me has to draw the line somewhere. Ugh. I can't lie - it hurts.

Onward butterfly.

Friday, November 30, 2007

The Glory of the Turn Singal.

I won't pretend to be a good driver. Most people who have ever had the displeasure of being a passenger in my car, a couple pedestrians and many a poll in West Hollywood and elsewhere have discovered my utter lack of automobile driving prowess. But if there is one thing I know about cars, it is the turn signal. And more specifically, its usefulness. Nay, IMPERATIVENESS.

I am sad to report, I have come across some eggregious uses (or non uses) of the turn signal of late. And it is for this reason that I have taken it upon my narrow, aborable shoulders to make the streets safer and present you all with this, my Primer on the Glory of the Turn Signal.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the turn signal has two purposes.

One: it should be used when - wait for it - making a turn. Yes, crazy how the world comes together like that sometimes. When you turn left, you indicate your intent to make such turn with a your LEFT turn signal. I emphasis LEFT because making a right turn while flashing your left turn signal does not actually signal anything. Except that you may be an idiot. Now imagine you are driving down the street. One lane. Normal 35 mph speed. And then you want to turn left, and so you do! And you don't use your turn signal, you rebel. What happens? The poor sucker driving behind you careens into you because said driver was not aware of your intent to slow down from a brisk clip to a crawl in order to turn. This is not a good situation. And this isn't a Palestine/Israel type conflict that can't be resolved. There is a handy solution. It is called a turn signal and it comes free with your car. Use it. Please.

Two: it should be used when changing lanes. This is helpful to put the person in the lane next to you on notice that any second, you will moving your massive, steal, several ton potential death trap across a horizontal distance. Again, assigning the appropriate directional signal to your intent is imperative. Right signal follow by lane change to your left? Car accident city. Please take note, the signal is not merely an afterthought. Flashing a signal after you are halfway into the next lane is about as useful as putting your girlfriend on birth control when she is 6 months pregnant.

And finally, even when you think you don't need to signal because the road is clear. Do it anyway.

- Diet Coke and a Side of Fries, at your service

*sticking "ness" on the end of any word is perfectly acceptable in my world of word usage. Don't hate.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

It is Possible That I suck at Life. Maybe.

So I met this guy (herein dubbed forever T/S - as in Tall and Skinny) a short while ago. Think months. I won't get into how we met, but it was unusual. I've been seeing him for about a month now. And it is dawning on my sadly, that while the sex might be phenomenal, the man behind the penis may be flaccid. Yeah, I went there.

The real, truly, tragic part of this realization is this: today, on November 29, 2007 I post this realization, a hunch I feel pretty strongly is the truth, and still, again and again, you will read posts from me complaining about how this guy is hurting, disappointing, pleasing, occupying and fucking with me.

Why don't I walk away? Because, folks, it seems I am a masochist. Or maybe I am bored. I can't really tell right now. My having formed this blog gives credence to the bored theory, but I get I suppose I may have a little self-torturing attitude in me too.

And just to beat a horse to death, the reason this guy may be/probably is a dud is because he presented himself as being honest and with barrels of integrity which is what I was drawn to. And already, I have caught him in two lies. I have two things to say about that. 1. Why are people such fucking liars? Even the people I love. Lie. I am going to count how many lies I tell tomorrow. I wonder if I am a liar too. 2. If you are going to least be good at it. I mean seriously, saying you are one place on Tuesday, and then forgetting where you said were by Wednesday is really pathetic. I am conflicted right now as to whether I am more offended by the lies or the lack of effort in telling them.

And finally, I didn't confront him about the lie. In addition to my masochistic tendancy, I also happen to have a penchance for denial.

Hello World. Meet My Insanity.

Dear amazing, oft unkind, frightening and always humbling world:

I am feeling bold, honest, brave, and foolish - each in just the right proportion to cause me to want to share my life. All of it. The funny of it, the dirty nasty of it, and the wonder of it. I say now to my dear roommate, friends, family and poor souls I date - sorry to offend, as I inevitably will. Also, I am curious about this whole blogging business. I want to be hip. I want to embrace my nerd. And improve my spelling. Amuse myself. And hopefully you in the process.

Things about me. I am (much to my lamentation) single, I am smart as a whip , I walk real fast and run real slow. Sometimes I walk slow but I never, ever, ever run fast. I feel passionate about music. Sometimes so much so that it hurts too much to listen to. Strange, I know. Oh yes, and I am strange. But you probably wouldn't be able to tell at first meet. I spell like shit but I can sleep like a champ. My imagination is giant. I am a lover of vice. I am strangled by my fear of judgment. But it is a valid fear, as I am often judged. I love people. I love people to love me. I especially love those that do. There may be one person in the world that I hate - but I have not quite decided yet. I may be too lazy for true, artful hatred. I hate to lose, but I take it well as I also hate to be a sore loser. The rest of it, you will find out with time. Suffice it say for now: I am awesome. And my blog will be the shit.