At the prodding of Ms. Schu, I will now blog. (She's like the guilty conscious in the back of my head that's come to life.)

Nothing of significiance to post lately, thus, the half assed poetry about boys, which, is so retarded now looking back on it that I'm about to delete it from history, except: that would be cheating. Once you blog, you can't go back. (Well, technically, you can, you just hit the delete button. But we're living in my world here, a world in which deleting already-published blog posts is not allowed. It's the "no takebacks" from 4th grade. It's that 2am drunken call you wish you hadn't made the morning after. But you did, and you have to live with it. It's done and its over with, and even though there's the "delete post" button staring you in the face, prompting you to hit it with your best shot, you ignore, and move on with your life. At least in my blog world...)

Moving on.

I am going to India.

That is a bold statement, is it not? :)

And let me just say that "Save as draft" is a loophole into the "no delete" rule. When you save, you are interrupted, but plan on coming back to the post later, at which time, you could delete the post if you so wish, no one would know; it has not yet made it into the internet void, its just dangling somewhere in the air, like that little string of skin attached to your baby teeth about to fall off. But I digress...

Usually, upon called to dinner by my mother, I would save this post as a draft and come back to it later. But somehow I know I will end up avoiding the bold statement I've stated above. I will now publish this post, send it out into the internet world, so that I can abide by my own blog rules and will HAVE TO come back to this subject at a later time.

I bid thee goodnight, and a happy 2006.



It's kinda a cliff hanger, is it not? Dun dun dun!!!

Cute boy.
Cute waiter boy?
Cute chef boy.
Cute boy who cooks
Cute boy who cooks looks good in black apron speaks fluent french.
Cute boy.

Let me just say that Breakfast Burritos may just be the most perfect food on earth. You've got cheese, potatos, eggs, salsa, beans, and some kind of meat all wrapped up in a tortilla. So potable...so handheld...so YUMMY. They're so great, that they deserve to be capitalized in writing.

Wait...deja vu....I feel like I've blogged about this exact same thing already...But who cares. If you haven't read that post, then it's new to you.

And since when did Jodie Foster speak fluent French??

Good god, I'm still at work...waiting for renders is no fun.

So this is Christmas...so the song goes. I have nothing of interest to comment about lately. Either that or I can't remember any. To my right sits six bottles of Orange Cream soda, to my left, the packet of pop rocks is humping my spiderman mousepad. I wonder if I combine my left and my right, what will happen? Some people may guess that I'll explode. I don't think I'll explode, I think my mouth would just hurt alot. I mean, since I don't drink carbonated drinks often, just drinking soda alone hurts my mouth sometimes. So just imagine it with some watermelon pop rocks. Wow. The pain...

I still have remnants of Heath Ledger on my mind from last night's Brokeback viewing. Kinda slow but very...oy whats the word...(no not "burn". That's a Little Mermaid reference for ya K)...passionate I guess.

Ok, renders are done...back to work.

In reply to my email informing the staff at This American Life about the injustice on The OC (mention in my Nov. 17th post):

"HI, we were aware and actually offered a free gift to people who visited our website after the show for a few days ...

All best,

~e"

Bummer...I did not visit their website after the show, and thus, did not get my free gift. She didn't even tell me what the free gift was!!! Why didn't I even think to visit the website? Sheesh kabobs.

Good god, Santa sings!

Or should I say, holy jesus?

Not only does Santa sing, Santa sings in spanish! Santa stopped his picture taking amidst a long line of children, and proceeded to sing Feliz Navidad, while the instrumental music blasted on the speakers. I was so disgusted that I had to push my way through the crowd to get out ASAP. Whatever happened to the good ol days when you tell santa what you want, and then you get pushed down a huge slide by some weird elves? Ok, so I never really waited in line for santa, and that slide thing probably only happened to little ralphie, but still, how does santa have time to fit in a song or two with all those children waiting for him?

The holidays are a weird time for me. Every year, I WANT to get into the spirit, but every year, it just gets a little further and further away from me. I can't stand the crowds anymore, the commercials, and the waiting..., and ESPECIALLY the singing by santa, who should really just sit in his chair and say his ho ho ho's. I try to do it with the music, but even with that, there are some songs that really annoy me.

Oy..the holidays...the joy.

fuck.