Randomness

My oh my. My readers are getting testy...that is troubling. Do you want that I put a cork in it? Or do want that I offer my readers some metaphorical dope? Please be less vague next time, I am at a loss for how to proceed. And what's with all the commentators with no real names?

In any case, I feel like I haven't mentioned my boy Milo in a while. Just because I don't talk about him doesn't mean I don't think about him. Yes, yes, I realize he's on a hit show now. A hit show that I have not been able to catch...perhaps in DVD form somewhere down the line. But I am so very happy for him. It must get frustrating for him to be on show after cancelled show, so I'm glad he's found a permanent home now. At least for a few seasons more right? Keep up the good work Milo V.

I went to catch a show in silverlake on Tuesday night and realized that, if ever I decide to move there, I'd need to have lots of hair to fit in. More than I have now. I mean lots. In the form of a full on beard. Like the kind that connects to my Dylan McKay sideburns. Or I'd need to be half my size and wear skinny jeans all the time. That seems like too much work, so I'm gonna have to go with the full on beard- I wouldn't have to do anything to it except let it be. Hipsters are always trying to be cool by being anti-cool, so if I'm anti-hipsters, does that make me anti-anti-cool, therefore, making me cool by being myself? Awesome. Actually, I love you hipsters, I really do. I'm just jealous I can't look like you.

Speaking of skinny jeans...who the heck came up with them? Don't they know that only a certain type of girl (and boy) can wear them, thereby leaving out the other 90% that can't? Really now. This is something that John Stossel would be outraged about. At least, he should be. For the sake of us, the 90%.

In conclusion, NPR and PBS are in trouble. You can do your share and save them HERE.

Thank yee kindlee.

Despite my very best efforts to be the smart, sophisticated, modern, PC, cosmopolitan girl of the 21st century, I still fall short sometimes. Everyone does, I'm sure. But I don't want to be like everyone. Most of the time I know better NOT to do something, but I do it anyways, thinking that it won't affect me, but it usually does. Why do we go against our better judgement? Because it's enticing, that's why. Oh...the joys of being human, and not a robot.

I bet if I was a robot, I'd do a killer lock n' pop. Being merely human, I won't even attempt it.

Thanksgiving

Tonight I am feeling extremely thankful for everything I have in my life. Yes, we should all be thankful everyday, yes yes. But we're not. Sometimes I complain about this. Other times I bitch about that. Sometimes I'm jealous that people have what I want. Other times I'm filled with an overwhelming need to just...want.

Tonight I ask for nothing.

Tonight I went over to the drugstore to buy soap. I was thankful to have money to buy the soap. And a big drugstore to buy the soap. A drugstore!! With enough drugs to keep a whole town painfree. And then I drove home. In a car!! In a vehicle that actually takes me places, and takes my friends places. A vehicle that gives me freedom. And then I came home to my apt...a roof over my head. A head which, is full of hair! I should be so lucky to have so much hair, while people are losing handfuls of it by the minute, whether it be cancer patients, balding men, or even balding women! I have gas to cook food and keep me warm, a fridge full of food. A TV! A computer!! I have a computer to blog with. I have a full time job to wake up for. With people that I like. People that I look forward to seeing. I work with music videos all day for crying out loud. How many people get to do that??? I have my family, my dear dear friends, and my health. (ok that last one is a bit shaky, but for the most part it's there) I'm thankful to be of normal height, to have a functional brain (though some may argue otherwise, but for the most part, its functional), to have all my extremeties available to me. I'm lucky that this week, I have no annoying little papercuts on my hands. I mean really, I can go on and on.

Tonight, I am overcome with a sense of gratitude and appreciation. Most people know who to ultimately thank in situations like these. But alas, I am not tight with God, or God Jr. Allah does not come over for tea. The last time Buddha and I had a heart to heart was probably in my past life, if I had one. For me, I do not know who is responsible for my great fortune, except possibly myself. But all this seems to be bigger than I, and way beyond me and my magical powers. So I will send it out to the great internet void who, with all its spam and viral video capabilities, will surely find whoever or whatever is responsible, and let them know that I'm grateful, I'm thankful, I'm appreciative, for everything I have tonight.

Am running out of DVDs to watch while I camp on the couch.

Interesting fact: did you guys know that Dr. Callie Torres, before working at the Seattle Grace Hospital, was actually THE grocery checker Rose "what-a-beautiful-name-Rose" in you've got mail? It's always nice to see people move their way up. I mean really, from the grocery checker to surgeon? That is quite the jump.

I've always thought I had a good solid DVD collection. I only stock it up with movies I know I will watch over and over, in case of rainy days, sick days, or an emergency broadcast system type of lock-yourself-in-your-house days. And of course, the collection has its share of chick flicks, which I always thought were solid well made chick flicks until I recently re-watched some of them.

Take The Wedding Singer, for instance. Instantly, you think: classic, right? It's got the funny, it's got the silly, it's got the romance, its got the Billy Idol, a rapping granny with meatballs...what more can you ask for? But after watching it again recently, I think I fell out of love with it. This last time, it struck me that Drew Barrymore's character must have been written by a man. And you know what? I just imdb'd it, and surprise surprise, I'm right. I'll save you some time, and not get into my "closet feminist" tirade, but just watch the movie, you'll know what I mean.

And then there's You've Got Mail, my absolute favorite chick flick of all. I still think its wonderfully written and executed and all that, but the ending always leaves me a little perturbed. So Kathleen Kelly finally realizes that the man she's been exchanging emails with is actually her business nemesis turned friend turned possible love connection Joe Fox. And what does she say in this moment of realization? "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." Which, yknow, is kinda sweet in the moment since we know that her relationship has blossomed with Joe Fox. But seriously, does she not see that he's been manipulating her throughout their whole relationship? He pretty much tricked her into liking him.

Someday I'd like to see the "After Ending," the story that doesn't get told as the credits roll. If I ever run into Nora Ephron, which I hope I will someday, I will have to grill her about this ending.

Until then, the balcony is closed.

Yesterday I decided to have some hot water and honey, and as soon as I had my first sip, I was reminded of New Jersey. Other things that remind me of new jersey? Raisin bran, and cheesy doritos. Funny thing how these memories work.

Yesterday I sneezed in the morning and I swear, it felt like a bomb went off in my head. I had to take several seconds to gather myself and my composure. I vowed then never to sneeze again.

8 hours later, I forgot my vow, and sneezed again. Another bomb off in my head, and another few seconds to regroup, plus another few more seconds to reprimand myself for breaking the vow.

Sneezing is the worst when you're trying to drive. Do you realize that you always sneeze with your eyes closed? And now that I've said that, you're going to try to sneeze with your eye open, just to prove me wrong. Well don't, they'll pop out. Just take my word for it. Whenever I sneeze in the car I feel like I'm going to get in an accident. For that few seconds I am in the dark...unable to see the baby in the street, or the car merging into my lane, or that sudden red light. Imagine if everyone in their cars sneezed at the same time. There would be pure chaos. Pandemonium. Someone should make that into a movie...

I'm not a smoker, so I'm not the most knowledgeable about these sorts of things, but,

I was just at the gas station, behind a guy who bought 6 packs of cigarettes from the attendant, stacked them up, and then went on his merry way. And while I was watching him stack the packs, it suddenly dawned on me: why would they sell such thing as cigarettes at a place loaded with fuel where anyone can just light up and possibly blow themselves - as well as others -up into little bitty pieces? Grocery stores, yes. 7-11s, yes. But gas stations?? I guess its not like anyone would light up at the gas station, but still, it boggles my mind.

So while people are quickly going down one at a time around me in this sick season, I thought I was untouchable, with some sort of super immunity system. I wash my hands, I take the nasty zinc pills, I remain in a positive mental state of non-sickness.
Well, turns out that I'm just slow...as with everything else. Joke's on me - haha.

Ok.

I just realized something: I've lost my inner dialogue.

No. I mean, its still there. I hear it all the time. I just lost the ability to blog my inner dialogue, and I think i know what happened. I used to blog alot more when I was living sex and the city (as in, living vicariously through dvds). I'd picture myself as carrie bradshaw, posing big questions, wondering why people do this or that, narrating my own life, my friends lives, the lives of people next to me in line at the grocery store. I didn't have a snazzy laptop like she did, but I had my thoughts, and I'd blog inside my head all the time, and thus the plentiful posts.

So what happened, you ask?

An American Girl In Paris, that's what. Big season 6 finale, mr big vs petrovsky, and of course, of course, Paris. And then that was it! The girls were just like that, *poof* gone from my life. Suddenly, my inner thoughts to myself transferred into words and sentences and paragraphs into this box with wires and googles and mice suddenly seemed completely ridiculous. It's because I didn't have carrie's inner dialogue anymore alongside mine, to justify my own inner dialogue so i don't seem all THAT crazy. And slowly, slowly, i stopped watching TV.

And I know what you're thinking. The fact that I'm even bringing up sex and the city is really ALL THAT CRAZY. But can it be? This crazy invention that we call television has become my muse?

No, it can't be. Because the things I blogged about were still drawn from life experiences, it wasn't all TV related.

So what really happened?

I don't know. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out. But for now, this is what I've got.

Knuckles: cracked.
Body: ergonomically seated.
Fingers: on keyboard...typing this word...now this word.

Saddam is dead. Now I am not one to be politically savvy about such things, but this is a big deal. In my head I know it's a big deal, but I don't quite have the capacity to discuss how or why without sounding totally politically ignorant. To kill one who has killed others...that's such a big topic that I don't even know where to start.

So the new year is merely days away. I keep having an urge for something new. Usually new clothes solves this itch. You put on some new threads, you feel like a new person, right? Well, not this year. I'm impatient this year. I want new clothes so I go to the mall. I walk into a store, do a quick 360, and I'm out in less than 5 minutes, with nothing in my hands. So maybe some makeup? Again, as soon as I'm inside I want to be outside. Went in for a trim on ye olde hair thinking a trim will be refreshing, instead I walked out defeated, trying to hold my botched hair and the too-short bangs up high. It'll grow out. I start doing some (very) minimal exercises, thinking I can get a jump start on the resolutions thing. Two days into it, I'm sick and my body aches, and those minimal exercises are already out the door. Seems as though my attempts at new-ness for the new year have all been thwarted.

At least in the new year, my commute won't be as bad. We've moved, and I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to Larry or Bennie.

In any case, I'm hoping the new year will bring new adventures. I feel as though I've had my share this year, have accomplished alot, but I really want to out do what I did this year. I mean, don't we all?

And hopefully in the new year I'll write better blogs.

Happy First Day of Winter....


Um...I guess. I can't believe its only the first day, I feel like I've been freezing my ass off for the past month, and its only the first freakin day of winter? Good grief. I don't know how I'll survive.

Um.

That's all I've got.

Yup.

This past Saturday as I ate a late lunch, I decided to see what was on the tele. Knowing it was a Saturday afternoon, I was predicting either golf or some sort of Battlestar Galactica show or probably both simultaneously on multiple channels...maybe? Well, I was right. But then I came across something spectacular!!

Soooooooooooooouuuuuuuuullllllllll Trrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiinnnnnnnn

Now, knowing how much we despise the horrid horrid memories of this show as former pages, something caught my attention that made me watch. Actually, I changed the channel, then returned...semi intrigued. Don Cornelius was actually hosting the show, and he looked much younger. Turns out this was a "Best of ST" episode from 1971!! It was so awesome I couldn't believe it. Barry White was a performer, and all the dancers were crowded around him and his piano, while Don took questions. Then after the questions, Barry sang. And boy, Barry was even sexier back then! Well, his voice was...not so much the slick hair....not so much.

So the dancers danced while he sang, they danced while other groups sang, and then they danced to the old ST theme song. And I was watching them dance and just noticed how much fun they looked like they were having. They were dancing mostly coupled up, several guys had the plaid bell bottoms, almost everyone had an afro whether they were black or white, boy or girl. The women had clothing that looked stylish, yet respectable. Everyone was just having fun and dancing to the music.

There was none of that slutty girl ass or breast zoom in zoom out dissolve to hoochie mama tight spandex high heeled movements. That's the thing, the girls on the show don't dance anymore, they just move about and feel themselves up and down as the cameras go by. On this episode, no one looked like they belong in porn, no one looked directly at me through the camera as though they were about to do me. Everyone was just dancing and having a good time. It was CLEARLY about the music. And that's probably what made the show so popular to begin with. I can see how it has lasted so long. But the way the show has turned...I don't know...it just makes me sad. And it makes me want to live in the 70s, with those cool hep kats and their big hair. Too bad my hair is so straight.

I want to go back to a time when it really was about peace, love, and sooooooouuuuuuulllll. That is hard to find these days. I think I would've enjoyed it.

6 Weird Things About Me...

...that you may or may not already know.

1. I think my left leg is longer than my right leg because I have a tendency to veer towards the right when I walk so that I always eventually bump into whoever is on my right side leaving them to think I'm trying to get closer to them, when in fact, I'm just veering.

2. I'm deathly afraid of butterflies. I had a dream once where one landed on my hand and left some white poisonous powder on my hand so that meant that I was going to die. I think they're evil in disguise.

3. You know in About a Boy (book or movie, doesn't matter), the boy hums outloud without knowing it? I was relieved to read about this, because I involuntarily do the same, usually after stressful or embarrassing situations, thus making the situation more embarrassing and stressing me out even more.

4. Action movies really stress me out to the point where I really don't care to watch them anymore because they blow up so many buildings and cars and all I can think about is, "Now who is going to clean up that mess?" and we have just added a ton of unnecessary garbage to our world. The same stress comes from going to Costco, supermarkets, anything in mass quantities. If you multiply an average of two grocery stores within a one mile radius by millions of miles around the world by millions of yogurt cups manufactured....oy, just thinking about it stresses me out.

5. I can sleep for 2 hours (or more) with my head underneath a heavy comforter. I don't know where I get the oxygen to breathe. Maybe I just don't. That would explain alot.

6. This will be a To Be Continued, because I can't think of another one.

And now, I tag Mel, Jyvonne, Sara, Ephraim, and Jen to do the same.

This weird thing has been happening to me alot lately. It's pretty embarrassing, so I'll refrain from saying what it is. But its been happening alot. The first few times I've shrugged it off, but then it happened again today. And it happened in such an odd way that I just felt like something was up. As if I'm a part of some conspiracy theory or some hidden camera show. Except, in hidden camera shows, the joke usually takes place within a few minutes, not a few weeks, like it has for me. Unless Ashton Kutcher is working on his comeback and has picked me to be his lucky victim. But that is as possible as [insert something impossible here].

And then it hit me: the universe is trying to tell me something. But the universe is sneaky. It doesn't tell me directly, it tells me in encrypted messages like these odd occurences lately. I just wish I knew what it was trying to tell me. On one hand, I hear loud and clear what the universe "seems" to be telling me, but on the other hand, I just feel like there's gotta be more to it. So until I can encrypt this message, I'll be on the lookout, and proceeding with caution.

Today I felt an urge. An overwhelming urge. The urge to DO. PLAY. MAKE. CREATE. LOVE. exercise? Yes, even the urge to get off my butt. I don't know where it came from. Probably from being stagnant for so long. Stagnant at work, in traffic, in my mind, body and soul. I don't think it matters. I just know that the urge is there, and I have to do something about it.

It's time for new beginnings.

And how convenient that I have to switch to a new version of blogger at such a time. It helps me get started.

Even just sitting here typing this right now, I have this overwhelming urge to jump out of the chair. Not just get up, but literally jump out of my chair and go do something life changing. But alas, it is midnight, and I'm still waiting for the washer to finish up its cycle. I know, excuses, excuses. Excuses kill the flow of energy. But at least I'm blogging. Even to the most minute extent, that's doing. Right?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm being sucked into LA. If I've become superficial and fake, and everything else I dreaded about living in LA before I moved here. Ok, so technically I live in The Valley, but I'm surrounded by LA all the time. There's been so many times when I'll be having a meal by myself, and can hear the people at a close by table talking about this audition or that script, or directing this and editing that. It's unavoidable, I know, but sometimes I feel sufficated by it. I'm using terms like "the industry" and name dropping the celebrities i see at the grocery store, and buying expensive burgers that still don't taste quite as good as the less than $5 deal at In N Out. I read the trades as homework, I feel guilty for not watching more TV than I do now as "research", and I was really truly sincerely happy when Paris and Nicole made up.

I can't tell if I wasn't working in this industry, whether I'd react to celebrities and LA in this way, or if it's because I really care about these things that I ended up in LA. I guess we'll never know.

All I can say for sure is this: At least my breasts and lips are real. Even my haircolor, along with that one strand of white sticking out that I just can't get rid of is real. But for how long?

Today was not the greatest day that I've ever known, but it wasn't so bad either.

Today I was honked at constantly in the parking lot by the impatient car behind me and I had visions of putting my car in reverse and stepping on the gas.

Today I bought a too expensive burger with curly fries, then was determined to finish it.

Today, while eating said burger, we realized Don Cheadle was eating lunch next to us. He is a beautiful man, even in person.

Today, I regretted eating the expensive burger too late into the process. I am still nauseous from meat overdose.

Today is one more day closer to 4 days off, but also 2 days of no income.

Today, the security guard paid me an unexpected compliment, to which I said thank you.

Today I learned of awful news from a dear friend, which is still on my mind.

Today I am channeling my energies into a new experiment that may very likely fail than not.

Today I am contemplating going to bed early, though there is still much work to do and 4 episodes of LOST to be watched.

Tomorrow is another today.

Tonight I have nothing to blog about.

Nothing eventful other than having lunch with Bennie Affleck.

And...zoom in, cue the Dun Dun Duns!!

(Dramatic pause)

Ok. Alright. So we didn't exactly carry on a conversation with each other during lunch. Let's just say he sat at his table, and I and coworker at ours, 10 ft apart, my face blocked from his line of vision by his back and some thick shrubs. But still. We were all in the same vicinity, and we were all having lunch.

In all reality, this was not as exciting as I'm making it out to be. Me and said co-worker didn't even know he was at the other table until 3rd co-worker pointed it out to us. And even after that, we were more intrigued by the two fatty but extremely cute boxer dogs who decided to waddle over to us (seriously, they waddled), and then peed right next to us. Really, fat dogs that can barely walk are fascinating. I could've watched them for hours and hours.

Once in a while, I think my brain short circuits for a brief second, like just now when I got a little dizzy, and then, snap, it's gone, and I'm back in action. It's as if I'm a machine or something.

Today, I finally ran into Larry D. Well, I technically wasn't running, and we didn't physically bump into each other. Ok, so we only walked by each other. I flashed him an "ooooh pick me pick me as a guest star to be in the next episode" smile, but apparently he didn't pick up on it, and just kept right on walking. Sigh. Next time, I'll break out the "I just want to be an extra" smile. Maybe "aloof" is key?

The show last night at the Knitting Factory was great, in case you were wondering. I bought a pickup mic last week from a guy on craigslist (I heart you craig and ken), and it worked just as planned, with minor setbacks, but who's counting. People enjoyed the show, and I played/sang my heart out, while on my tippy toes.

I've realized that it's not about the product, its really about the process of making the product. At least for me. And you can say the two are the same, ie, the product IS the process, but I think they're just very closely related. Sure it was great having familiar faces in the crowd acknowledge your presence on stage, hearing people clap at the end of every song in approval. All that is truly appreciated. But it's not the core of the high. The high comes from making the music, as cheeseball as it sounds...pass me the crackers, please! On a very very minute level, it comes from hearing the different frequencies of the invisible audio waves from each instrument and voice interact with one another to create harmonies, and melodies, and at times out of tune dissonance, but eventually finding its way back to harmonies that resonate together again... Yea yea, a bunch of hippie mumbo jumbo I guess. But to me, and I'm sure to alot of people, that's really what it is.

But it's also so much more than what I can put into words right now. For now I'll just say that we rocked loud, we rocked hard, we rocked.

Finally. It seems as though the heated days of summer that somehow escaped its way out of September has been caught and put back in its rightful place. Real LA Fall seems to be upon us, though with LA weather, you can never tell whether those heated days will make another escape perhaps say, the day before Christmas, to bestow us with yet another perfectly warm LA Christmas.

I've been visited lately by Melancholy, which usually brings along connotations of negativity and sadness, though I often believe there is room in that big suitcase for optimism and well being. Though listening to wonderfully depressing music, even turned up loudly, doesn't contribute much to making the guest want to leave. I have gotten used to these visits, as like with all things, I know it will come and go, so instead embrace it like the rays of the sun through my car windshield on the 405: unwanted, but also unstoppable. On late nights I offer to make margaritas for us, which Mel usually refuses, because I have no ice, and because I have no margarita mix. So then we just BE.

So after a period of dry spells, I've suddenly become inundated with celebrity sightings. Ok, maybe inundated is the wrong word, but the dry spell is definitely over. I currently work in a building that houses Ben Affleck, Larry David, and Emilio Estevez. All three of whom I have seen. Ben by the bathrooms, Larry in his office, and Emilio in the parking lot. It always amazes me (although it shouldn't) that Ben's car is always there and parked in its spot by the time I get to work. If Ben can get to work on time, I should too, or so I think, but it never happens. I'll blame that on traffic.

Today I ran into a man who was trying to ask me for some directions. Midway through my explanation, I realized that the woman he was with was Emily Watson. She didn't speak much, but she sho was purty.

And that concludes this portion of DB's Celebrity Sightings.

Ok, ok. So I've been a bit busy lately. Here are the current state of affairs:

Apartment: in shambles
Laundry: Clean!
Violin: tuned.
Stomach: hungry.
Pink chucks: none.
Shows: 2 down, 1 to go.
Hair: getting long.
Ears: Recently pierced, not infected.
Car: side mirror mysteriously broken, needs oil change, and a good wash.

Ladies and gents, thanks for being patient, as I've been held up by this or that in the past few hours/days/weeks/months/years?
Shit. Years? No no, we'll stop at months.

Most recent exciting news: no longer going on tour, but played two shows with The Little Heroes this weekend. More of which will come in the next blog, as my bed is calling my name, even though my stomach has other plans. On second thought, perhaps I will postpone talking about playing with the band until after our last show, as to not jinx it all.

Come one, come all, to the greatest show on earth!
(no, not the circus)
The Little Heroes
11/13 8pm
Knitting Factory, Hollywood.

And to all a good night.

OMG. I just realized that Ugly Betty wore those Traveling Pants. Why did it take me that long to make the connection?

Whoa...sounds like a storm is a brewin outside. Those crazy santa anas.

Lorelai and Christopher. I can't believe the writers actually went through with it. They wrote Luke off so quickly, he never had a chance! Oy...I just don't know about this show anymore.

Speaking of shows, I had a chance to catch up on some real cable on the plane, thanks to Jet Blue and DirectTV! Project runway seems pretty interesting, as everyone says. I also came across...(dun dun dun!!!!)...Laguna Beach. I just had to see what everyone was talking about. And all I have to say is this:

Dear Laguna Beach,

Are you FOR REAL?? Because I really can't tell. Everything about you is so overly dramatic, and your conversations are so, like, perfectly, like, set up that its just like, a little unbelievable. All your characters are just all so pretty, what's with that? Your girls look older than I'll look in 5 years! (granted, I do have a 5 year handicap) And the boobs. Can't exclude them boobs. They're like a character with their own plot line, and seriously, you have enough characters already, I can't keep up. And your boys. They're just the biggest pussies I've ever seen. At least I know that is for real. I highly doubt that boys meet up at the park under the guise of skateboarding in order to "really" discuss whether they're leading on their girlfriends, or whether they should break up. My god. Have I totally lost touch with the real world? Are you just the cousin of Sweet Sixteen? Either way, you're both evil.

But yea, call me sometime, let's hang out! Maybe on the next Jetblue flight?

L?ve,
your BFF!!!

Sigh.

New haircuts. They're really a no-win situation. You can't get away without someone noticing a new hair-did, that is of course, unless you wear a hat to cover it up. And let's face it people, I'm no hat person. Perhaps I should try putting a bag over my head...but even that draws too much attention.

I generally hate my haircuts. There have been a handful of them that I was actually excited about, but the rest I have not been too pleased with. But its ok, because hair grows out, and actually- once it grows a little, they're generally not TOO bad. But because I usually don't like my haircuts, I'm stuck in a "hairy" situation. Obvious comments such as "oh, you got a haircut!" generally evolves into, "looks great!" And I'm either stuck lying about how much I love my new "did" (or, "don't and wish I never had" if you will), or saying the truth- that I hate it, which invariably makes me look like I'm just fishing around for compliments like, "no way, it looks faaabulous." Because really, when was the last time someone said to your face, "Eeeek...what happened to your head?"

This time around, I've learned my lesson, which is to just smile, nod, and acknowledge as I tousle my shorter tresses, and quickly move on. However, the kitchen, where everyone convenes for coffee and the mild banters of weekend activities and whatnot is hard to avoid. Got to have the coffee to go with the new "DOn't." It's my only salvation.

The haircut this time is not God-awful, where I'm embarrassed to be seen. But its not fan-tabulous either. I've become too lazy to fret over it, except for that minute immediately following the moment I wake up, where I remember I've just had a haircut, which is only made worse by the inevitable aftermath of sweet sweet sleep. But then I wash, dry, and do the did, then just move on. Rinse Lather and Repeat for several days. In a short month, it'll be old news. In the mean time, I'm grateful for rubberbands, bobby pins, and maybe the occasional hat.

Ok, seriously folks.

How ecstatic am I to hear that Paris and Nicole have gotten back together? And with a slumber party! Seriously. I know the two of them are way way way overhyped in the media for their own good. And yes, they're people just like us. Except with alot more money...ALOT more. I know this is a very LA thing to say, but in all earnestness, if lame-ass people like Paris and Nicole can get back together and make up, that gives me hope for all the hate in the rest of the world. I truly am happy that they're friends again. They worked so well together, even when scripted.

So, I leave LA for a couple of days and this is what happens? Maybe I need to leave more. Imagine what I can accomplish if I left LA for a month!! I could come back to Brad and Jen again and find out that the whole Angelina thing was just a bad MOW (or, MOY: Movie of the YEAR). Perhaps with kids? Triplets!!

Maybe if I moved out of LA for good, Tom would still be with Nicole, and not crazy with Katie.

Ok, ok, who am I kidding. Tom's always been crazy. I'll change that last one to: Tom would still be with Nicole, and his old publicist.

It's a sad day when the people bringing you hope are people like Paris and Nicole. I hope they won't let me down.

Wow. An assignment from a dear reader. That is a first. I'll give it a go.

Introspective Retrospective: A Reflection

Looking back on these last 5 years of blogging, I don't regret ever starting a blog in the first place, in fact, I highly commend myself for doing so, and any others that do the same. The idea for the blog came after my first website went up in sophomore year of college. It was summer, I was at summer school in San Diego, and not many friends were around, so blogging became a way for me to easily update any news to my website, as well as an outlet for me to stop talking to myself so much since no one was around...yea...sad but true.

When I started, I never really thought the relationship would last this long. After all, my first, second, and third website have since died...yet this blog lives. And when I refer to my blog as a relationship, you might think its funny, but it truly has been a relationship for me. Not in the traditional physical tangible relationship way. But the same way you share a day's events with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or catch up with a friend you haven't seen in a while, I do through this blog. In sharing things about me on this blog, I'm able to share myself with the masses through a cloak of invisibility. And a relationship is all about sharing right? And commitment. 5 years is a long time. Alot happens in 5 years. And, granted, I haven't blogged on a daily basis since the inception of Daily Banterings, I haven't completely given up on it either.

I get different things out of my blog at different times. Right now, what I feel like I'm getting the most out of blogging is a RECORD. I'm starting to realize that I tend to have an awful memory, and by blogging about things, no matter how little and insignificant they may be, the entries serve as my brain, part of my past, history. I enjoy going back and reading the things I've forgotten about. And the idea of that is probably total anti-buddhist...but then again, I'm not a buddhist, and its my blog, so I can do anything I want. But I think (if I have it correctly), Buddhism teaches about living in the present. Being aware of the present. Not having any possessions, which also equates to not holding on to the past. But, its not like I'm holding on to the past by recording it in my blog, I just enjoy visiting the past from time to time. Maybe that's why it's called FOND memories, and not awful horrific memories.

Other times, I just need an audience, a soapbox. If I have something to bitch about, I want to do it for an audience, not just for myself, otherwise, I don't think it'd be bitching, it'd be just mental thoughts. I think I have a set core audience of 3-5 readers, which is enough for me, but the idea of the internet reaching the south pole is quite intriguing to me. The possibility of strangers landing on this blog is a scary, yet exciting thought. I often wonder about my audience. Whether I should keep certain things under wraps for fear that someone is going to find this blog and be able to read all about me. But it's not really for others. I don't blog for other people, I like to think that I blog for my own benefit, and the audience is just an added value feature.

I also blog to try to keep my mental juices flowing. I wouldn't say that blogging is a creative outlet for me...it's more of just thoughts pouring out of my head. I think once in a blue moon I'll try to get creative with my blog, but, I'm not writing the great american novel here. My fingers are just taking dictation from my brain.

As fun as it can be though, I'm often paralyzed by blogging. I don't know what it is. Perhaps fear. Fear of people knowing more about me than I really want. Fear of becoming mundane and trite....and of becoming the type who uses the words "mundane" and "trite" together in one sentence. Laziness. Lack of vocabulary and eloquence to say everything that I'm thinking or feeling. People are made real by words, yknow? You could be feeling sad or ecstatic on the inside, but that existence of being sad or ecstatic doesn't come into being until you put it into words. I guess you can look at someone crying and know that they're sad without them having to say so. But once they do, that makes it even more real. Once it's put into words, it becomes real, there is no room for doubt as to whether that person is sad or not, because they have just said or written that they are. It's like...ok, here comes another one of my analogies. It's like when you're being beamed on the starship. Yes, ala Startrek. (Insert nerd joke here.) So everyone is walking around and existing as a glittery half-there hologram with all their thoughts and feelings that they think and feel UNTIL you put a feeling or thought into words. That's when you're completely beamed over to the otherside...when you materialize. Words materialize people. It validates the intangible...

I don't know, you could probably argue with that point. I'm open to any other views.

Yarrrrr...A happy TLAP Day to thee....

Sometimes I wonder if I should take up smoking.

Ok, no, of course not. First of all, all my money is already going to the coffee addiction, not nicotine, though I've heard the combination is a great one.

Second of all, people who smoke are way cool, and I'm only semi cool, and that semi part only exists in my head some of the time, but that's all that matters right? And I know there's some of you out there going, no way, smoking isn't cool. It's so gross and digusting. Ugh. But you're wrong. Despite what your parents, D.A.R.E officers, and PSAs have told you, smoking is kick ass cool. Probably not as cool as a healthy liver, but really...have you ever met a smoker that wasn't cool? I mean, they could be the meanest, rudest, or sweetest people ever, but they have something that non smokers don't have: an air of coolness.

Y'know that episode of Friends (yes, Friends) where Rachel takes up smoking in order to get promoted? Well...the writers totally had that right on the nose. Smokers have excuses to take breaks. They can all instantly bond because they share a love for a magical white stick. It's like they're all in this special club together that non smokers would never understand. And by the way, we do understand, we just choose not to. You can hit on someone taking a smoke outside a bar, because you know they're not going to complain about you smoking. You can share something intimate with your boss over a drag and be in line for promotion the next day. You can meet random strangers and hot chics and hot guys that would never talk to you outside the smoking circle, but since you're a member of the club, they'll give you that one chance, and vice versa. All this over a pinch of dead turf rolled up with some paper. It's amazing, it really is.

If only there was a way to get into the club without adhering to the beliefs and practices of said club. And forget about those candy cigarettes...not enough flavor, not enough bubble.

If only there was a way to make coffee drinking as cool...but I think Starbucks ruined that chance for all of us...damn Starbucks....(no, I don't really mean that, I love you).

Arrrr......

I missed the first orchestra rehearsal. And it really bums me out to know that I'll miss all the other orchestra rehearsals. I really feel like playing, but alas, there is no where for me to practice. What a bummer. Hopefully by next year I can get back in the swing of things again.

It seems as though I'm running into people from the past everywhere! This past saturday, I ran into a friend from Highschool. Had not seen him in years, and suddenly, BAM! we were standing there chatting, directly in front of a possible stampede path of death by a red elephant. He remembered me, and the elephant did not charge. I am thankful for both.

And then last weekend, while at the grove with the relatives, I ran into a friend from college. My film partner in crime. He definitely recognized me, but sadly did not seem to recall my name. Totally understandable...I did pretty much sneak up on him without warning. But still.

Now what does this mean? All these people from my past, now emerging out of nowhere? Ok ok, granted, it was only 2 people, and I wouldn't be surprised if I don't hear from them again until the next random run in, but 2 in two weeks seems like something of significance...doesn't it? Or maybe I'm just looking too much into things. OR! Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe it wants me to go back in time by bringing people from my past into my now to slowly adjust myself to something, of which I will find out exactly what when it happens. First a college friend. Then a highschool friend. What's next, someone from elementary school? Ok, if that happens, that'll definitely be a sign. Until then, I'm just gonna keep cool...and flip my collars up for effect.

I recently rewatched In the Mood For Love. And while I was watching, I remembered that the first time I saw the movie was back in highschool with my parents...still just a kid. I remember that I totally lost interest in the movie, and never finished it. Probably partly because I couldn't understand what they were saying, and the chinese subtitles were going too fast for me to read.

Fast forward to now, rewatching the movie for the 5th or 6th time...just thinking that it's brilliant. The subtleties, the concept, the acting, the music...all of it combined together, it's all just brilliant, and I get it, and understand it (partly because now I have the version with ENGLISH subtitles) on a much deeper level. It's really one of my favorites.

But rewind back to me in highschool, I remember thinking, man, this is one of those artsy fartsy movies that rich people sit around to watch and say is brilliant just so they can seem smarter than they really are. This movie is a bunch of nonsense.

So doing all this thinking about the movie led me to wonder: would my kid self approve of my adult self? And I even hesitate to say adult, because I really don't feel like one yet. I guess more mature would be better. If I, as a 16 year old, could see myself now, as a 25 year old, would I be proud? Or would I be disappointed? And if I, as a 25 year old right now, could see myself as a 40 year old, what would I think of her?

When I was in highschool, I wanted to be a musician. A professional musician. I wanted to play in the philharmonic, or for broadway shows, or cirque du soleil (I got introduced to it in highscool...) And now, looking back, it really wouldn't have worked for many many reasons. But if I were to tell my younger self what I'm doing now, before I knew what I know now, would my younger self be pissed at me now?

Ok ok. Let's just cut to the chase. I haven't been blogging. And I can't give you the reasons why without sounding like a total flake, so I won't.

Well, ok. One of the reasons is just that I feel like my creative blogging juices are slowly draining away from me. And all that's left is the crappy pulp stuff...which they say is good for you, but without the juice, is really just dry crap if you ask me. But wait, don't pull out your violins yet...I'm willing to work on it and keep blogging.

I've realized that aside from entertaining audiences with my banter, blogging is also a good way for me keep a record of things that are going on in my life. So let's get started, eh?

I saw boobies. Well, "a" (singular) boob.

Let's backtrack yea?

Couple weeks ago I took my parents to the Hollywood Bowl, since they've never been. We had a nice time, and as we got back to the Hollywood and Highland complex, we decided to stop at the restrooms before heading for our car. So while I was waiting for both my parents to come out, these group of girls came out. These...I can't even call them girls...they're more than teens, but less than women. I guess they are women, but they were just all so....so giggly. Oy. Not that there's anything wrong with giggly, but there were loud, obnoxious giggly, and wearing skirts that looked like they were painted on.

I watched them with disgusted amusement. Was I jealous of these girls with their low cut shirts and big boobs and perfect hair walking sexily in their high HIGH heels? These sorority sisters about to begin their night of drunken who knows what with god knows who, while I was ending my night with...the parents. I think I can honestly say no, I wasn't jealous. To be honest, watching them in action took alot of energy out of me, and frankly, I just don't have that kind of pep in me.

But still....I watched them from afar, wondering what life would be like under all that makeup and tight clothes and "like, ohmigod!" coming out of my mouth with ease. I never did that in college. Maybe I should've...just to be able to say I did that. But really...unless you're a cheerleader by nature, who can DO THAT? I see myself as Eeyore by nature...and Eeyore will never be Tigger.

But I digress...

So this girl with the huge boobs...she's laughing and chatting with her girls, and fixing and retying her low cut halter when suddenly, her bare boob falls out for...not even a split second...it was much longer than that, yet she didn't seem to notice. What seemed like a minute later...she finally looked down and said, oops! And covered it back up. Even though I was in plain sight, I didn't bother looking away. I just stared. It's always interesting to see someone elses' boob.

All in all, it was a fruitful night: John Williams, movie music, and a Boob. Not too shabby.

That's it for tonight. Join me next time for...well, you'll just have to come back and find out.

While in a store this morning, I overheard this kid talking to his mom while she shopped, and he followed. This kid was pretty young, maybe 7 or 8, but he seemed very smart to me. There was some piano music playing throughout the store, and he said, "Do you know what that is? That's a harp." (Ok, so it was really the piano, but at least he knows about the harp!)

"The harp?" his mom replied, not really paying attention as she kept on shopping.
"Yea, its like the violin." (Again, not REALLY, but he knows about the violin, so its close enough.)
"And you know how you play it? You use your hands and go like this." (I couldn't see, but I assume at this point he was air plucking his invisible harp. This kid is a genius!)

"Or, you can use an arrow."

Hahahaha. I thought that last comment was hilarious, as I walked off chuckling to myself. Kids are so funny sometimes. Maybe he watched a little too much Robin Hood...the animated one.

And then yesterday, I was standing in a long line at the bank. There was this older lady, probably 60 or 70, in front of me. She turned around, and just out of nowhere, complimented me on my tshirt. "I like your shirt!" she says, with much enthusiasm. "Are you a musician?" I told her I play a little, not wanting to get TOO into why I was wearing that particular shirt yesterday. "I used to play the piano," she says. And then we engaged in minor chit chat about the bank, before we went back to waiting in line. Then, her husband showed up with a box of cornflakes in his basket, and said, "I can't think of what else I'm suppose to get." The lady said, "Well, we need bread, but you don't know what kind. And we need fruit, and you don't know what kind either, so just stand there." Well, I found this to be pretty funny as well, and started chuckling to myself, and then he turns to me and says, "She always tells me what to do. She's been telling me what to do for 62 years."

62 years!! Geez. I can't remember what else he said to me, but he teased her in jest as if she couldn't hear him, and she shrugged it off as though she didn't want to hear him. Their whole interaction with each other was so cute, that I almost wanted to hang around them a little bit more. But alas, she went to cash her check, as I went to deposit mine, and since I finished before her, I said my goodbyes to her, and then to her husband as I walked by him. And he said to me jokingly, "She can't even cash a $40 check! And do me a favor will ya?" Sure, I replied. "Don't lose that smile," he said.

Aw....what a cute couple! It's always couples like these that I find adoringly cute. The ones that have been together for 50+ years and still seem to genuinely enjoy each others company. The ones that have been untouched by the internet and reality tv, even though they have lived through it. It's people like them that I'm envious of.

So the moral of this blog? Kids and old people are cool. Everyone in between....mmm....not so much.

I just got home from work and thought about spending some detox time going through the NEW Ikea catalog, imagining what life would be like with uncomfortable yet stylish furniture. (All I could come up with was that it would most likely be: uncomfortable, yet stylish...)

However, seeing how I have not blogged in a while, I decided to suspend the catalog perusal until further notice. Instead I am here, loving you loving me...at least enough to read through this.

I just wrote about two paragraphs full of nothing of importance, and decided to delete it instead. And then I just spent another five minutes sitting here, wondering what I can write about.


Nothing.


There's everything, and then there's nothing. Right now I've got nothing.

Wow, its been so long since I last blogged that the site didn't even remember me!! I actually had to type in my username and password to blog!! The nerve...

Been pretty busy lately with everything, and when I get a spare moment, I will sit down and blog about something important, something substantial, something blog-worthy. But right now all I've got is this:

My boy JT is bringing sexy back. To tell you the truth, I didn't know it was gone to begin with, but if anyone can bring sexy back, it would be JT.

Speaking of sexy, the Pussycat Dolls are looking for another member. That McGee is brilliant. Finally, I can go pull my hoochie mama outfits out of storage and put them to use.

It took me 2 hours to get home last night. That's right. 2 hours. I've been telling EVERYONE. Thought I should tell you too.

I missed our 5th year anniversary...I'm so sorry. It was thoughtless and careless of me. Please don't be mad. I'll make it up, I promise.

Aarg...how annoying.

Katie Melua is only in town for one night, (tonight!) and I totally missed her. Funny thing is, I drove a different way home tonight, to drop something off at a friend's house, and just happened to pass by the Troubador where I just happened to look up to their sign to see what shows were coming up, and it just so happened to say Katie Melua, and I just so happened to gasp in excitement until I looked around the sign further to find that that her show is/was TONIGHT! And there I was, sitting in traffic on Santa Monica Blvd, wondering if I should turn around and just buy tickets for a show starring this girl that I'm in love with. Really, she is awesome. But, the me that I am, it was just too late and I just had too many things to do tonight (like blog about missing a really awesome show? hm...) Hopefully she'll be back in town again soon...though I doubt it. Wah.

What does one do when one turns 25?

1. Have ice cream for breakfast.
2. Leave car so dirty that stranger leaves 3 carwash coupons on windshield.
3. Have 3 girly drinks and a beer. A BEER!

I'm growing up so fast...

2 1/2 blondes, a guy, and his car...

Almost forgot what I came here for! Music videos!!

Ok, two words: Paris Hilton. You might've seen the music video, or even the new version. But how surprised are you at how well she sang? Ok, the word "well" is used relatively. I mean, when I first heard that Paris was even singing, I almost choked on a cackle. For real. I don't know what I expected. I guess I was expecting William Hung? I mean, given the way that she talks, and the voice that she uses, I really wasn't expecting much. The song itself? Pure crap. But, her voice was better than I thought it would be! I know, I know, studio magic and all. But still...

For those of you with a tomato in your hands, I guess now's the time to throw it at me.

Moving on to our second blonde:
Brooke Hogan. Yes- THE Hogan. I didn't even know she had a singing career, but apparently, BAM, here it is. She's all very cute and sexy and all in her video, you know, the usual sexy dance and hair flips. She even has a whole boxing workout bit, doing some jump roping, some girl-kick-ass stuff. It's all nice and visually stimulating and all, very generic music video stuff. And then you come to the lyrics. Oh god, the lyrics.

"I'm just trying to live but your all up in my grill." No, for real. She sings this.
"Everybody's just fronting its what they do."

Yup, it's what we do. We front. I front. I'm fronting. Front front front. (Haha, the word probably just lost all meaning for you just now huh? eh?)

Here's this blonde daddy's girl chic, singing You're All Up In My Grill????? Is she for real? Are you kidding me? "Up in my grill?" Not only am I up in her grill, I'm ALL UP in her grill. Where does she get this stuff from?

Oh right, her daddy probably.

Can I get a Good Grief Charlie Brown? Amen.

Next up, our half blonde, the always lovely and foxy sexy Beyonce!! Ok, how hot is her new video, DejaVu? It's like a girl's wet dream. Seriously. She goes through like 10 different outfit changes throughout this video. I started counting at first, concentrating really hard, but then I just got sucked in to the whole video and lost count. I'm pretty sure its around 10. Ten incredible outfits that she looks great in. Well, there was one that didn't look so hot, but the others were awesome. And then there's all that running through the grass...beautiful, just beautiful. Oh yea, and Jay-Z looks nice too and yadda yadda blah blah blah. But man, Beyonce looks fantastic. And all that dancing she does...whew. I'm tired just thinking about it. I could just sit and watch that video all day...

Last up, a guy and his car. I can't say too much about it, all I's can do is direct you to this link, and bid you goodnight.

Oy yoy yoy.

I came to blog about music videos, instead, I'm blogging about people moving away.

What's up with that? My brother's moving to Ireland, Christine moved to NYC (!), Nick's moving to Boston, Angel might be moving to Virginia, Lee's going to Paris (!!!!), Son's in NY, Jamie's in NY...It seems as though everywhere but LA is the place to be.

Ok, I may be exaggerating. LA is great. There's great people here, and really good korean food. I shouldn't complain. BUT I AM! I want to move away. I want a job, or school to take me away to some foreign land, be it New Mexico or Paris, where I have to fend for myself, and grow up a little. Where I actually have to socialize and meet people (although I do enjoy talking to myself. Haha, kidding....a little).

For now, I am here. And probably will be for a while. Other than not enough closet and shoe space in my apt (but then again, what girl does?)...I really don't have much to complain about.

Shorts are sooo in season this summer. So why am I still wearing jeans today, in 96 degree weather? Who knows. I just know I haven't worn shorts outside in public in a looooooong time. Skirts, capris, dresses, sure sure. But shorts? No no. Must find some shorts to wear.

Oh, and chocolate milk is delicious.

I always start the day wanting to blog about this or that, always reminding myself to write it down, to make mental notes - I even log these thoughts into my imaginary recording device that I keep in my imaginary breast pocket - but no luck. By the end of the day, as I sit at my computer, I've got nothing.

And now, even as I sit here, staring at my monitor.....yup, nothing.

I could go on a rant about TRAFFIC. The horrible awful thing in LA that makes people hate this place so much, when there really is so much prettiness here. But not on the 134. Nor the 101 nor the 10. Don't even get me started on the 405. Ok, end of that topic.

So, as I drive in to work I always pass by these parking spots reserved for some very important people. The other day I noticed the sign that said, Reserved For Emilio Estevez. I asked a coworker about this particular sign, and she confirmed. Yes, he does work at this building, he's very nice. Wow. Just imagine. The real Emilio Estevez. I work in the vincinity of the man who single handedly led The Ducks to win three major championships simply by quacking. (Well, with the help of charlie, I GUESS, but we all know who the real coach was.) I wonder if I'll ever run into him. That would be AWESOME.

The other day I went down to Korea town with my beloved Angel and I stocked up on Korean food. And now I have tupperwares full of food in my freezer, conveniently ready to go at a moment's notice. I LOVE korean food. Love love love.

Speaking of love, I'm in LOVE. Yes, again. He's Belgian (yup, just like those yummy waffles) and his name is Django. Isn't that a lovely name? Django Reinhardt. I don't know where he's been all my life (well, other than dead), but all that matters now is that I've found him. And that's all that matters.

The End.

Today, I was just about to walk into work when this nice guy was kind enough to tell me that I still had my tag on my shirt. Ooooh..that would've been sooo embarrassing. Well, it was already with this one guy, but just imagine all that embarrassment multiplied by 30. Zut alors!

Thanks for your kindness, mysterious man #1.

I never understood why life is just a bowl of cherries. Why not watermelon? A bowl of watermelon is delicious, especially right now, with the heat. I mean, cherries are nice and all, but watermelon is so sweet and juicy and cold and cruchy and delicious. Although, I can see how "Life is just a bowl of watermelon" would not fit into the song so well. Too many syllables.

Why, Christina, why?

Christina got implants. Why she decided to do so I'm not sure. She was large and in charge already without them. Now they just jiggle and wiggle and pop out of places they shouldn't. What was she thinking??

Ozwald Boateng!

That's the gorgeous man's name. It came to me in my sleep...Isn't that a great name? Too bad he only does men's fashion..

It's late and I must get up early tomorrow (yes, even on Saturday), but it's too hot to sleep. Damn Burbank and it's heat. Damn valley.

However, I do have a couple things I'd like to talk about.

1. The Lake House. Came out today. And yes, I'm sure we've all wondered how Sandra and Keanu can keep a relationship when they're living two years apart. (I mean, other than calling each other up on the tele/mobile phone once they do find out they're two years apart...but hey, I'm no scriptwriter. What do I know, I just blog.) I have enough of a hard time keeping up with people on the other side of the hill, let alone two whole years! The mystery of it all kept me interested, but hearing all the reviews today tells me it's a waste of time. (Yes, Keanu alone should've told me it was a waste of time. But c'mon! Two years! How do they do it? Actually, it's a magic mailbox. That's right. A magic mailbox.) However, after hearing all the reviews, I'm really interested in the original Korean version now...

2. The Standard is a sham. Full of pretty people and cute boys and big boobs by the pool, but really, the hotel itself is just...well...standard.

3. Sometimes I really do long for cable. Today I watched the end of an episode of Queer Eye. I also saw commercials for The Simple Life. Yes, it's scripted reality, but Nicole is so funny sometimes. Someone tell me this: how are they doing a show together when they publicly declared their breakup long ago? Faux friendship for money? Perhaps, but that just seems so....oh right...Hollywood. Oh oh! And then I saw a commercial for a new show starring this man with such a great name that I can't remember right now. Doing a reality show on, of all things, high fashion! He was such a gorgeous man too, I can't believe I can't remember his name...Anyways. Sometimes I miss cable.

4. Birthdays are popping up everywhere. Seems like there's tons of June birthdays!

5. Goodnight.

How the HECK! did Garfield get a second movie? How???

I just tried to upload a bunch of pictures, and then ended up deleting all of them. Lately I've had an influx of pictures I've been wanting to share, with the new baby, my NYC pictures, Mr. A's b/w NYC pics, Moon in new cute poses, the list goes on. But then at the last minute thought against it. I made up my mind long ago to make this a picture free site, so that's how it will stay.

I need to start making my own website so I can post all these pictures up.


Nothing else new to report. Picked up some more books this weekend, have fresh material to keep me company. Also tried to venture out into the world today with Mr. D. We went next door to Silverlake to catch the street fair and to look at all the pretty people. I was only out for a mere 2 hours, and was already feeling shitty by the time I got back. Looks like that long bike ride I had planned for tomorrow is out of the question...?



Ok, I changed my mind. I'm putting up this picture to make up for the lackluster post. Mr. Hatter was simply irresistable.

As my few readers will know from an embarrassing error sent out to all paramount pages, not eating makes me angry. It also makes me easily annoyed and short tempered. I have since realized that this is probably due to low blood sugar. Mmm...sugar...

Dr. Martin Luther King once had a dream. I too have a dream...

I have a dream, that someday my appetite will return, and that I will eat all that is before me.
I have a dream, that when that someday is here, I will eat with all my power and all my might, and probably skip chewing.
I have a dream, that one day, nothing will sound just "meh" or "alright" and that everything will make my mouth water.

I hold this truth to be self evident: That all food is delicious, and waiting for me to eat it. I have a dream today.

Today-
Argentina: 2
The World: 24
SH: 0

I just can't win. I am a defeated woman.

Current friends: Kathleen Kelly, Joe Fox, and Strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats (yes, they are delicious).

Mmm...Life cereal...the only solace I have in this uphill battle.

Holy mothaf*cker.

It's 4 in the AM and I cannot fall asleep. To make matters even worse, I just found a spider in my bed. THAT'S RIGHT! A spider in my motherf*cking uncomfortable bed. Maybe it wasn't coincidence that I couldn't sleep the same night I find a spider in my bed? Maybe...

And maybe it wasn't coincidence that I was lying on my stomach reading, during this encounter with said spider, instead of lying against my pillow reading, or even worse, lying asleep in bed! Shock shock horror horror shock shock horror! Instead of spider in my bed, it would've been spider in my mouth, and down my throat into my stomach! I never thought those statistics were real....wait, did I just beat a statistic? HA! Take that, STATISTIC! Instead of the annual 8 a year, I will have only swallowed an average of 7 spiders this year. And seeing how I don't believe I have swallowed any at all this year, and it being June already, things are looking on the up and up.

Damn Burbank and their damn spiders!

I still cannot sleep. That cup of chammomile tea at 10pm was a bad idea, now that I think back. I feel like the whole world is conspiring against me. I've been reading for the past two hours. And lying in bed the hour before that. Perhaps the spider was waiting for me to fall asleep before making its attack, and after three hours or so, couldn't hold his bladder in anymore, so he tried to escape past my detective eyes by diverting my attention on my book (which it was already on...smooth one spider...smooth). But his daddy long legs weren't fast enough for my eyes, they're like spider death rays. Once again:

Szu-Hua: 576
The World: 2
Spiders: 0

Motherfuckers.

It is 1:16am on June 7, 2006.

I have survived 6/6/06, and since you're reading this, you have too.

Congratulations to us all.

It's 5pm, and I've done nothing today. My head is fuzzy, my face is warm, and my body aches. I've laid on the bed and the couch, and thought about doing work, but all that thinking just made my head hurt even more, so I settled on my collection of chick flicks. Not that there's no thinking involved with chick flicks, don't get the wrong idea. Many a chick flicks are filled with complicated drama and serious issues that makes a person ponder about the intricacies of the world. Except I just know my chick flicks so well and have watched them so many times that I don't have to think about them. Though, I just spent and hour with Sally and Harry and all that talking talking talking back and forth and back again started to make my head hurt. So here I am, back in the quietness of my head, transferring all that is swirling up in it through my hands and on to this post.

It's almost time for me to go to work. I hope I make it through tonight. Where did the day go?

Isn't Madras just another word for Plaid? Old Navy is trying to "make summer Madras" when in fact, I think they're trying to make us look like lumberjacks. Well, cute lumberjacks, of course.

Tonight on the radio I heard someone explain the difference between American and French wine by comparing it to having dinner with Dolly Parton and Catherine DeNeuve. After that I really wanted some French wine...I still do actually.

Summer orchestra has started. But alas, this time, I'm not able to make it to rehearsals due to the work schedule. At first I figured, whatever, it's just a summer orchestra, I can always join back with the Valley orchestra again in the fall. But now, I really miss it. I miss playing my violin...its already been a month since I last played. It's probably not very happy with me right now. And if that's the case, Kilroy must HATE me...I've been neglecting him, and he's just collecting dust in the corner. Tomorrow I will dust him off and give him a good tuning or two.

Apparently! There are electric violins that hook up straight into headphones so that one can practice in silence. I mean, I was aware of the existence of electric violins, but never thought to put it to this use. However, I need to investigate this further, it seems too good to be true. There's gotta be a catch somewhere.

Stay Tuned!

I used to love living so close to work. My commute was 2 minutes, give or take, depending on whether I walked or biked that day. I could come home for lunch and take a nap if I so desired. Save money on gas and get some exercise at the same time. Lots of benefits, I tell ya.

I don't love it so much any more. It's not "MY" work anymore, its merely a past tense now. Living so close to your previous place of employment has its ups and downs. Mostly ups though. I still run into co-workers every now and again at the grocery store or crossing the street, or even randomly at Corner Bakery. I worked with a bunch of amazing, great people, which is why I love to run in to them when I do. And especially since I don't have much human encounter during my days anymore, seeing a familiar face is always exciting. But afterwards, it always reminds me of how I'm no longer there, part of that group. So the initial "Hey! How are ya! It's so good to see ya!" in the beginning is a great high until we both go our separate ways, and I realize that I'm not going to see them again in 5 minutes back at the office. It's quite a downer really. Especially when I come home and find myself in mid-conversation with the cat...that's trouble.

And running into management is always AWKWARD. The other day I found myself on the opposite side of the street just as the owner, Mr. X, happened to be walking towards my direction. My heart raced, my palms sweated. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't possibly turn and run away, that would've been too obvious. Yet there was no large hole in front of me to fall into. What was I to do? Afterall, this was the man who is essentially responsible for my unemployment. Probably not directly, but he had to ok the deal. So you can see how a large hole in the ground would've come in handy at this moment in time. And all I could think to do was smile and wave to him across the street, and quickly continue on my way. To this day I still can't think of another thing I could've done, though I wish I could.

It's time to move. Especially with this heat...

I love Grey's Anatomy. I really do. Being lost in a great show for three hours really makes you believe you're living their lives, instead of your own. Oh boo hoo, you say. Not that my life is all that bad, but its just that you end up experiencing all the ups and downs, the tension of the drama followed by comedic relief...all within 2+ hours, give or take some commercial breaks. I'm sure I have just as much drama and comedic relief in my life, its just stretched within a longer period of time so I don't notice it as much as the season finale of a wonderful show. But still, even in TV, things get resolved. Even if they leave you with a cliff hanger, you know that you can count on them to resolve the issue next season. Even if someone dies...that is a resolution in itself. And you have the writer to thank for it.

In my life, I'm my own writer, I have to depend on myself for conflict resolution, next steps, who to assassinate, who to vote off, who to come back to life, and so on. And most of the time, I don't have the answers!! I don't have a team of assistants to research assassination attempts for me, or write and write and rewrite the perfect line of dialogue in that not so perfect situation, or create the perfect wedding scenario so that the pariah cast member can finally leave the show in peace. After all, this isn't the Truman Show....or is it?

Question: How embarrassing is it to be crying over a book, at Starbucks, of all places?
Answer: Very.

Which is why I didn't. But I did have the overwhelming urge to tear up as I got to the end of my book. Then the music of Jack Johnson snapped me out of it as I suddenly realized I was at Starbucks, and not the comfort of my own home. Oh, how I do enjoy a good book with coffee on sundays.

Speaking of starbucks, my neighbor pissed me off today. Ok, pissed off is a bit harsh, I would maybe turn that down 60%. My neighbor, who practically lives at starbucks, who I see everywhere and can't seem to get away from, today became annoying. There's been several times when I've been reading on Sunday mornings at Starbucks where he would come over to me and try to make conversation. Usually, I would return the usual chit chat, ALWAYS feeling quite uncomfortable, but would be polite nontheless, even as he interrupts my Sunday morning reading time, even as it is perfectly obvious that I am engrossed in my book and do not care for conversation or interruptions, except for the occasional sips of coffee. During the silences between our chitchat, I'd usually continue to read my book, trying to make it obvious that I'm reading, while he hovers over me thinking about the next question to ask me. Usually, I'll somewhat engage. Today, he crossed the line.

As I was walking towards starbucks, he already saw me and said hi to me. I did not take this to be a good sign. Usually I'm not even aware that he's there until he creeps up on me, today, I was aware of his presence even before I started. However, by the time I sat down with my coffee, he was nowhere in sight in the store, so I got a good solid half hour of time alone. That is, until he came in and said hi. And then proceeded to hover over me as he talked about how nice the weather is. Yes, its quite nice, a bit hot now, I say. More hovering. Would you like something to drink? he asks. No thank you, I said, as I pick up my coffee cup to show him the obvious: I already had one. So he leaves to purchase his beverage. During this time, my sister calls me, and now my attention is on our conversation, not my book. My neighbor then decides to pull up a chair next to me, and proceeds to sit a little too close next to me as I'm having a conversation with my sister. It was at the moment that he sat down that I began to cringe and become highly annoyed. Let's go down the list, shall we?

Did I invite him to sit down next to me? Nope.
Did I invite him to engage in conversation with me? Nope.
Did I want him around while I was on the phone, possibly on a very personal conversation (which it wasn't, but it could've been!)? Nope.

He proceeded to sit there until I got off the phone. Even while I was on the phone I contemplated leaving the store, making up some excuse about having to be somewhere suddenly due to the phone call, and it was while I was on the phone that I became angry. Why should I be the one to leave? Why should I have to stress over making up an excuse to leave? Why should I always let him make ME feel uncomfortble? I got to Starbucks first, and I wanted to finish my book in peace, dammit!

So I got off the phone. Picked up my book, and in the politest way possible, said to annoying neighbor, who now seemed to have gotten comfortable sitting next to me with his coffee in hand, ready to pry in on my personal life as soon as I hung up: Do you mind if I just read?

To which he said, sure, but had a look of hurt in his expression. And after a few minutes, said goodbye to me and left.

Of course I feel bad. Of course. I know he's just an old man wanting some conversation and contact with another human being. And yes, I know that I'm not some rock star diva that no one can look at or talk to (a la Dr. Phil). But still, when I want to read, I want to read. Is that so bad?

How the heck did Felicity get in with the wrong crowd? She was suppose to go to med school, marry Ben, and live happily ever after in NYC with her cute tanks and jackets. Of course hang out with Noel from time to time cause they're best friends. But Ben wouldn't mind cause they have an understanding now (well not really, but Ben has always been about the coverups anyways).

'Cept now she's all filthy and kicking ass all the time with the looney. And she's doing it with straight hair! Dammit! Thanks alot JJ Abrams. Thanks for nothing. (Except for LOST. Thanks for LOST! Oh, and Felicity...of course, but that was a given. Duh.)

Guilty Pleasure #56:
Smoothing out the hard edges with your lips on a new tube of chapstick. Egad! Exciting stuff.

**Extra points for: getting a new tube of chapstick not because you lost yet another one before its days were up, but because you actually finished the last one! Hooray for me!

You know, there's one thing I can't stand about TV or films, is when theres an actor or actress who is suppose to be some great violin player, or cello player, and when you finally see them play, they can't even hold the bow right! Or they tuck the violin under the right chin instead of the left. It just disgusts me to the core. Not that I'm trying to be all high and mighty about this issue just because I play, but really, if you're an actor/actress playing a string instrument, take the bloody half hour to watch someone play it the right way, because when you're playing a character that supposedly can play the violin, and you can't really play the violin, you lose all your credibility as an actor. That's just my word of advice.

Moving on.

A couple weeks ago I was standing in line at Ralphs in hollywood, and low and behold, who gets in line right behind me? Snow white. I tried not to stare too much, because well, I was in hollywood, these types of things should be expected, right? So while I was putting my wallet away, I happen to catch a glimpse of what Ms. White was buying: a single red apple. For real. Snow White bought an apple....I just knew she was up to no good again...killing people left and right with her poisonous apple. And! At such a public place like ralphs...what was she thinking?

Man! I was on a roll in rehearsal tonight! And I haven't even practiced for 2 weeks!
And by "on a roll" I mean, I didn't suck. Not sucking means playing 80% of the notes. Ok, maybe 75%, but who's counting? Well, other than Tom my stand partner. But other than him, who's counting?

I've been spending alot of time up in the beverly hills area, due to these jobs. I'm always amazed by how glitzy everything is. And today, I realized that the Mondrian is a hoax. I've always passed by it, thought it was some cool ritzy hotel, and then you get inside, and you start seeing the cracks. Their modern/futuristic furniture in weird shapes is really just hard plastic, with chipped corners from the ages. Their elevators are tiny, theres nothing hanging up in the rooms, the halls are dark and ugly, furniture seems to have alot of wear. And I think their valet guys wear sweats. I mean, they wear all white, to continue the theme of the all-whiteness of the hotel, but really, they looked like sweats to me. It's all just hype...and I don't buy it.

So, interesting topic. This kid began a huge controversy over there in canada. Apparently, all sikhs receive a dagger when they get baptized, called a kirpan, and they have to wear it at all times. One day the kid is playing during recess, and the kirpan falls out. Someone at the school sees it, and bans the kid from having it in his posession, so the kid refused to go to school. Now there's this huge controversy over school safety vs religious freedom. Parents are afraid of what the dagger represents, sikhs see it as an attack on their religious rights.

So I see both sides of this case. I might have to agree with the schools just because I don't know or understand the importance of a kirpan in the sikh religion. But, I don't think I have to. If it's important to them, then it's important to them. So what does one do when both sides may possibly have a strong case?

Anyways, just thought I'd bring that up...

I'm freeeeeeeeeee!

Ok. But not for long.

The world of fashion photography is quite an interesting one. I can't quite put it into words right now, but it was a fun experience.

I had no idea that dogs snore. I'll miss them puppies.

Working with a bunch of guys can be annoying and lonely at times, but other times, man, it just doesn't matter because you're surrounded by a bunch of cute guys! The kind where you have to ask them to repeat something because you clearly were just staring into their lovely face instead of paying attention. Clearly. And when theres more than one around, it can get kinda dizzying.

The end. For now.

so much to say...too tired to write..goodnite.

Tales of the Employed Unemployee, Episode 2

I feel like I've been out of contact with the world for a week, but in fact it's really only been two days. You spend 2 days in a house up in the hills, and already I feel as if I've been away on vacation...except not as fun as vacation...though perhaps just as interesting.

I'm currently working as a PA on a photo shoot with a really famous photographer, the details of which I probably can't get into until I'm done. (well, ok probably not, but it sounds cooler that way, no?) He has these three large great danes. And by large, I don't mean shaggy dog large, I mean LARGE. As in, they come up to my stomach. As in, if they were to stand on their hind legs, they might be as tall as me. As in, they can probably take me down if they wanted to without trying too hard. But they're so sweet. We're currently occupying a side room as an office, and according to their caregiver, its their "lounge." Geez, I don't even have a lounge. They'll just come in and stare at me, or my boss, as if they're saying, "Strange beast, what are you doing in my lounge? I'd like to lounge now, can you please get out or move?" And I just look at them straight in the eyes (its easy because the chair I sit in is so low that its at their eye level), pat them on the head, and just smile. Sometimes I bring out the baby talk...cause I'm sure that really annoys them. So since we strange beasts won't budge, and they want their lounge, they'll just plop down right next to us. Haha..suckers.

Beasts: 1.
Great Danes: 0.

And now, the sidelines:

Rumor has it that my Idol nemesis, ACE, is finally off the show. Thank god! This fact has yet to be verified, which I will do after this blog.

Ok, so how many of you want to see American Dreamz, raise your hands? Higher....higher...! YOU in the back, I can't see your hand! Yea, you all know you want to go see Mandy Moore. At least I do. :-( I thought I had grown out of Mandy Moore, and sometimes I really can't stand her sweeter than candy demeanor, yet I always want to see her movies. And buy her albums (the last one sucked big time by the way!!!). So, as dumb as this movie may look, I'm DYING to see it. Plus Hugh Grant is in it, it's got to be good! I love Hugh, I really do, love Hugh.

(Haha...I just thought of this really funny scene for a situational comedy where...well, this is how it would go:

Girl: I love Hugh.
Guy: Really?
Girl: Yes, really and truly.
Guy: Well...I don't know what to say...
Girl: Don't say anything, I just needed you to know...
Guy: I never thought I would say this to anyone but...I think I finally realize...I love you too!
Girl: Really?
Guy: Yes, really and truly.
Girl: Wow, I never knew.
Guy: Well, you're the first person I've ever said that to.
Girl: But I love Hugh.
Guy: Yes. And I love you too.
Girl: So what do we do now?

And yak yak yak, blah blah blah. The rest is where the hilarity will ensue...promise. Yea ok, needs some work...but boy, I can drag that on forever! Moving on.)

I missed out on the wondrous day that is 4/20. I didn't even realize it til 10pm. I have 12min left to celebrate. And when I say celebrate, I don't mean "celebrate" with equipment and all. I just mean, a little, "yay hooray, its 4/20 day" in my head. And I just did it. With 10 minutes to spare...whew.

Kelly Clarkson performing in Irvine in AUGUST!!!! OMG!! Do I dare go? She speaks to me, she really does. Well, through her music, not the mobile or anything like that. I have some time to decide.

WELP. I think that's all for now. I'm tired. I hope I don't die these next couple of days. If I do, someone finish my situational comedy for me, please. And make it good.

Good Night.

I always have this self conscious feeling of not knowing enough information about anything and everything. Sometimes I wish I was E.T. and can just absorb knowledge with a snap of a finger. And, I'm not even talking about the important stuff. I mean, important stuff like world news and politics is good to know, and I'd love to absorb that too. But I don't even know the unimportant stuff-like Sanford and Son? Ok, just googled it. Looks familiar, but never seen it. Jefferson Airplane? Is that 1 person or a group? Though I am a child of the 80s, I missed out on most of the decade, due to the fact that I was out of the country in my early years. I barely caught the New Kids on the Block craze, I didn't know who Tiffany was til freshman year of college, and I can't even name 1 Billy Idol song. Sure, these facts aren't that important, but people bond over things like this. And when it comes up, I feel like the non-smoker in the smokers' circle: so uncool.

So help me out readers. Give me some factoids. People to know, incidents that happened, songs to listen to. Pass the cigarette and light me up, I WANT IN!

PS!

May I introduce (ta da!) Ms. Sarah Parker's new/old Blog, as well as Mel and Jyvonne's Blog, over there, to your left!
Let's all welcome them to the Blog World! (applause)

Thank You.

Taxes: finally sent. Hooray!

This leaves me more time for:
*Taking over the world: Check.
*Blogging: check.
*Being unemployed: check.
*Hula Hooping: check.
*Eating: double check.

Knowing I won't have to do it all again for another year: Priceless.

:-)

Tales of the Employed Unemployee

Today, I realized how many people in LA don't work. I know everyone says that about LA, but actually seeing it still amazes me. What amazes me even more is that everyone looks like they're being paid not to work. Everyone just looks like they have so much time on their hands, not a care in the world, except for maybe whether or not they really got the nonfat milk they asked for in their lattes, or if indeed! it was replaced by whole milk and that no, the barrista was not paying attention after all.

Maybe they're not unemployed. Maybe its their day off. Maybe its their lunch break. Maybe they're on vacation. But all I can say is that these people who are not working between the hours of 9 to 6 for the most part, all look GOOD. The guys look good, the girls look good, even the babies and dogs look good. Boy, that's LA for you.

Today on my one-day-job, I went around LA gyms and fitness clubs trying to get people to audition for a print ad. Boy, people in LA sure work out ALOT. Not only do they work out, they work out at HUGE fitness centers that have valets dressed all in white to greet you when you get out of the car. Whatever happened to that diet tip where you're suppose to park as far away as possible so you can get a mini work-out from the walk? But I guess if you can afford it, you just pay to have someone do the mini work out for you BEFORE you actually work out yourself.

I also listened to bits and pieces of the same newscast on NPR oh about five times in my car. I can't stand the other radio stations now...whatever happened to all the good stuff?

I'm currently doped up on caffeine. Caffeine and sugar. I've had nothing in me all day except for coffee, and a piece of cake. Chocolate cake. Good cake. And now, my fingers want to type faster than my brain can process. It's really such a shame, to put all this energy to waste. If in an alternate world, the ability to type faster than fast is equal to that of a surgeon's skills here in this world, I'd be saving more lives than you can count right now. One two three four five. More lives than you can even read this sentence.

I must go. My friend the microwave is calling me. It plans to cure my faster than fast typing abilities by putting some sustenance in my body. You know, to counteract the drugs. I hope, in our world, that micro wave succeeds, though I can't say the same for those on the other world.

Until next time these fingers hit the keys, and save lives in the process (should we be on that OTHER world),
Ciao.

Dear friend,

I'm sorry you've been neglected lately. It's not you, please don't think it's you, you're wonderful. Thing is, it's me...or rather, myspace. No, you're not encroaching upon it, like I've said, it's not you, you're wonderful. Its myspace, and it's evil. I'm weak, and I'm easily tempted by others to spend more time in myspace than what is really necessary (which, in truth, is NOT AT ALL). I know you're always here for me, so I will make more of an effort to spend more time with you. Especially since our anniversary is coming up in a few months. No, I haven't forgotten. It'll be our 5th. See? I do love you after all! So please, forgive me, I've returned to you.

Sincerely,
SH

Wow.

Today has turned out to be quite the interesting day.

The End.

But also the beginning of a new chapter.

Man...I get so jealous when I find out about people going to grad school. It seems so big and important. Not to mention exciting. I loved school...well, college is more like it. I didn't really love learning until I got to college. Highschool was just a mandatory social experiment that I happened to survived through. Oy...

College was where I actually learned. And looking back on it now, I didn't want to leave. As much as I loved San Diego, I liked it as much as I did because of school. And because of the people at school. Not just for the social aspects, but well...there were so many smart and interesting people in college. And professors too. I remember having the BEST last quarter ever. I was stimulated and challenged. I was learning about things I was interested in. And some that weren't so interesting, but for the most part, it was. But for some reason I graduated a quarter earlier than everyone else, I guess hoping that I'd get a jump on the industry competition before everyone else in my major graduated. Not a lot of good that did. Yea. If I had known then what I know now, I would've stayed that extra quarter, taking classes that I didn't really need to but wanted to, and just enjoy the good hearty edumacation (not to mention the shuttle rides).

Maybe I should go back to school?

Goodbye Ace, Hello Chris!

Dear Ace,
It was either me or the hair, and it seems as though you've decided on your hair...so I'm moving on- with the baldy.

Regards,
SH

Dear Katherine,
You're beautiful. We're practically neighbors! Let's do lunch.

Best Wishes,
SH

Holy Cow.

I drove by a Baja Fresh yesterday and did a double take as my eyes skimmed over a sign that said: Now serving Breakfast Burritos. Now, Baja Fresh isn't exactly my favorite, I prefer Rubios, especially after those days in Hollywood where we would end up eating Baja once or twice a week, just because it was convenient. But now that they serve BBs there, I may have a different outlook on Baja. Then again, I really should try the BBs there before I jump to any conclusions.

So last night, as I stared at this sign, I realized something. You know how sometimes you wonder what you're doing here? You know, those big questions about life, and who you are, and what your purpose is, yadda yadda. Last night I realized that I am here to spread my love of Breakfast Burritos to the masses. (At least those who read my blog.) See, its all very simple. I try the Breakfast Burritos from all over, I tell people about them - which ones were great, which ones to stay away from, etc, and I pass that information on to YOU, the masses, so that you can share in the joy that is: The Breakfast Burrito. I'm not here to serve god, I'm here to serve YOU, at least the part of your taste buds that enjoy Breakfast Burritos.

Holy Breakfast Burritos Batman!

Try saying that 3 times fast.

No Ace, YOU give ME butterflies...

Man, every time I see that guy smile I can't help but smile to myself. It's contagious. He can stand to lose some of that hair, but, no matter. Yummy.

My American Idol fun fact of the week: One thing people may not know about me is that I can recite the entire greek alphabet, from Alpha to Zeta. If you're lucky, I'll recite it through song.

My American Idol performance for the week: Katie Melua's "I cried for you." I can't get enough of that song.

Randy will say: Yo yo, listen, listen, that one goes straight to the dog pound...woof woof.
Paula will say: It was a big risk because Katie's voice is so good, but you made it your own. I can't wait to see what you do next week.
Simon will say: I like you SH, I do, but that song just didn't do it for me. (And...cue boo hiss from the crowd)


And that is how I participate in my own American Idol.

Oooo woah woah.

Stop with the Brokeback jokes, PLEASE!

Yes, it was a good movie. Yes, there were some awesome performances. Yes, gay cowboys are kinda hot. Yes, it may have broke new ground.** Yes, we all wish we knew how to quit Heath Ledger...it's hard, I know. But please, for the sake of originality, and my sanity, PLEASE:

STOP WITH THE BROKEBACK JOKES!!!!

It's kinda like what George Clooney said about winning his oscar, that he'll be forever known as an oscar winner and sexiest man of 1997. That's how I feel homosexuality will be associated with from now on. Which is kinda sad to me. In the future, we'll look back in the post-Brokeback Era, and know that it started with this movie. Being gay will no longer simply be "being gay". (Not that it's that simple to begin with) Homosexuality (not to mention cowboys too!) will now always be tainted by that movie, with the prefix of "Brokeback ThisorThat" or jokes like "Hey there goes that Brokeback couple" or "maybe that cowboy is from Brokeback Mountain."

Ok ok, lame jokes I know, but I'm not a freakin comedian. I'm just trying to make a point.

So the point is, references to the movie are no longer funny. It has overstayed its welcome. I also believe this whole phenomenom is creating this outlet that's making it ok to poke fun at gays. First there's the Brokeback to the Future spoof, then theres the Top Gun spoof. Then there's Billy Crystal in the tent with Chris Rock. Not to mention the film montage during the Oscars that show supposedly all cowboys are gay in old westerns. Yadda yadda yadda. Ok, alright, I get it!!!! Now stop it!!!

I don't usually get irritated with too much, but this topic has me irked. I really do believe it's just the lack of originality. Spoof after spoof, joke after joke, it's always the same thing. If Brokeback the film was suppose to be a "fresh" new look at homosexuality, then boy, you spoofers and joke makers are really sucking it dry.

And the other reason is just what I said earlier, that spoofing this film is making it ok to make fun of being gay. I don't know, are there any gay people reading this that don't agree with me? Am I being too uptight about this? Making it an issue when it's really not? Do you, as a gay man or woman, actually enjoy these jokes? Not that I have any gay readers, but because I really don't know, why don't you tell me.

But for all of our sakes, I really hope this is just a phase that everyone grows out of...like that whole Jerry McGuire phase we all went through where everyone "completed" each other and all that bullshit.

**And can someone please explain to me how Brokeback broke new ground? We're in 2006. Homosexuality is everywhere, though perhaps not accepted everywhere (like your trusty Mastercard). We've seen homosexuality before in movies. It's on TV everywhere! The L Word, Queer as Folk. Samantha made lesbianism hot on Sex and the City (yes, most guys will argue that it was always hot to begin with, that Samantha had nothing to do with it, whatever, I'm trying to make a point). Will and Grace is on a public channel, not CABLE, where you have to pay! Any poor person with a TV has access to Will and Grace. I'm just trying to pointing out, it's nothing new!!! (Damn, I should be a lawyer.)

So, even though Brokeback was a great love story, does the fact that it's a love between two really really, I mean, really hot gay cowboys (let the record show that I've loved Heath even before he went down in A Knight's Tale back in '01 and my relationship with Jake began shortly thereafter) make it ground breaking even though it's a subject we've all heard of/seen before?

Can someone explain that please?


Oy. I rest my case.

Oh Kelly Clarkson, how I love you.