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.