Bitter and employed

It might seem like my life has reached the point where I get all worked up over people inside a computer for nine hours a day, but that is in fact completely correct.

Something is happening. It's so hot at 8:00 in the morning, and I walk to work inside a constantly exploding nuclear fireball while nursing an inexplicable anger toward things like pedestrians sharing my sidewalk. I get to the office and know that whatever my mood is then, it's only gonna get worse over the next nine hours. I wade home through a sea of crackheads and tourists while the sun burns in my eyes and the first little tugs of sleep sneak up through my legs. The sun melts my eyeballs, and before I get home, I hope it's not as hot inside as it is out there, because homegirl just needs a minute to think. Then I always find out it's hotter.

I'm all tired and jittery at night when I'm supposed to relax and don't know what to do with myself. Something is happening, people, and I think it's that this city is making me angry. What am I supposed to do with that? It makes me so tired to be angry. I have stuff to do! FUCK YOU, BEING TIRED! *zzzzzzz*

Luckily, Elaine came to visit and we had ourselves a crazy ol' time. Those four days had nothing to do with angry. Experience:


Keepin' it metal on Manhattan Beach


Giving the sky a brisk slap for being so pretty


Daring you to tell us gettin wasted at three pm AIN'T some kinda neat


The trick is to take out a quarter of the vodka, then fill the rest up with Skittles, then make a face as awesome as this one when you drink it.


HARK, A LAD


The totally rad floor decal at my office


And lo, there issued a *FAP* heard 'round the world


R2D2 - HIMSELF
C-3PO - ANTHONY DANIELS
DARTH VADER - HIMSELF


Elaine and Eric went to Runyan Canyon while I boiled in anger soup at work. There's no way to make that sound not bitter I guess. Except, they had an awesome time! Hooray!


Eric captures some hot beaches


what is a ghost's favorite ride


Atop the 'wheel


Elaine was later found on the ocean floor wearing a pair of cement boots

So that's that. Oh hey, I've got three weeks of unemployment coming up, and I'm looking forward to those three weeks like a whore waits for sunrise! There is going to be so much tourism going on. Did you know I never did any of that here? Elaine and Eric saw more of L.A. in two days than I have in a month! That's cray-zay. Plus, there's so much reading, personal projects, sleeping 'till noon, and not being angry to be doing so hard.

FUCK, I'M SO EXCIT-- *zzzzzz*

Camp Boring

I'm writing this from work because I nearly went insane yesterday whilst in this very chair.

Nudists. You all want to see one, right? Or many of them? Together, being naked? Something about the idea of them being available for the looking at seems pretty exciting (not the least because I am a pervert)? I mean, they're naked, and we wonder how people look naked. Even nuns wonder that, about God. It's like an exclamation point to the great big question mark, right in your asterisk if you're lucky and easy. So, spending several days looking at naked people on a computer maybe doesn't seem like such a bad thing, does it? Not at all. It's like checkin' up on some porn for a bit of cash and blowing it on chicken nuggets at dinnertime. Porn and nuggets, yo. What a life.

Well let me tell you about this buncha nudists. These people are BORING. And not just boring, but deathly humorless about everything, ESPECIALLY about being nudists. And if there's one thing the human body is, right behind sexy as all hell, it's fun-nay. It's a funny thing, how it's kinda flabby and misproportioned and has a great wad of flappy taboo junk right in the middle, or maybe some non-flappy inverted junk if you're a lady. I mean, I think says a lot if you can't laugh about what you are, and even more if you really, really can't stop talking about it. Like, we get it. You're free. And I mean all of that, unless you were at Dachau.

Basically, these are some sour nudists. They look sour, talk sour, and are sour. They spend all day roaming the grounds and sucking at being good. The grass turns brown under their feet and the trees above nod off and forget to be alive. These guys just can't stop justifying themelves to each other. It's one of those things where I don't get it, but then I do get it, and then suddenly I REALLY SUPER don't get it. People, nothing could be less interesting than this guy's tree-sized dong to me right now. This is bad, bad news.

It's like that person who tells the same bad joke over and over again in a group. At first you laugh 'cause it's a bad joke, then you laugh 'cause it's a meta-joke, and then suddenly you don't wanna laugh anymore because it's no joke at all. For a moment, this person is so desperate to be funny, they go right around the spinner to "ugly." It's the Chris Farley effect - like, he's so scary and shrill, it's like being in the room with a killer elephant on dope, who hates being an elephant. I'm not laughing, I'm running for my life! It's self-destructive and mean! He makes me scared! The worst part is, this elephant doesn't like it when anyone else tells jokes. This elephant hates it when you're funny.

And I mean, DON'T TELL JOKES. These nudists can be naked and out of shape, fine, they're people, but the minute YOU start talking about it, you're dead meat. You're just not allowed to. And don't even think about cracking a joke about Ron Jeremy unless you have three days to listen to the nudist manifesto on body acceptance. These chumps actually think they're being persecuted.

Y'all, I have nothing against nudists. I am a nudist. Actually, I wear clothes like a human being. But seriously, I think nudists are fine. Because really, put one of these bozos in clothes for a minute. Don't they still suck? They don't have to suck. You can totally have funny, dynamic nudists to camp with, or go on a rafting trip with, or even drink around the fire and shoot the breeze with. This seems fun and illuminating. Or, you can have boring, defensive nudists that don't seem to enjoy being nudists at all. Why do that? I don't get it. They're closer to nature, aren't they? So when did nature become so dull?

I gotta say, to top it all off, their biggest crime is that they make the show boring. That's all.

(Yo, I mean any show. I'm not even saying they're gonna be on the show in five weeks.)

Stinkberry

Oh hey, there's also this stupid frozen yogurt craze called "Pinkberry" that's kind of a lot of bullshit. What's more, I kind of love it.

You remember Krispy Kreme? How douchebags from miles around descended upon Issaquah at two in the morning so they could wrap their dumb asses around a glazed donut at four in the morning? How nobody really knew why, except that it was called "Krispy Kreme" and recalled a hip shred of bygone history that no one remembers correctly? Transplant that to frozen yogurt, without even the fake history, and it's called Pinkberry. It's got fruit topping on it, but it's still JUST frozen yogurt. And yet somehow, somewhy, this chain went MEGATON. Somebody bought a frozen novelty phenomenon (froveltomenon) and deployed it upon a city.

Eric and I were so ready to blow the whistle on Operation Bullshit that we never counted on it being any good. To our surprise, it was amaaazing. I loved how it tasted. I loved its subtle icy grit and light citrus tang. I loved how awesome it made me feel to walk around with it next to people without it. I loved how good it tasted in my mouth. It's actually pretty stupid how good it was. This fad is great. I kind of want some Pinkberry right now. Mmm... Pinkberry. Pink. Berry. Iced yogurt. With fruit. Fresh fruit. Pinkberry.

mouth

Oh hayl, they also sell Pinkberry merchandise which seriously must be an awful joke, because a plastic anime saltshaker that was JUST PLASTIC, and like | | <--- THIS BIG, was selling for $24.99. THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A SECOND. !!!!!!! That's a nice steak in some places. Or a new release on DVD. Or, like, some crank maybe, but holy shit! A saltshaker?! It doesn't even have salt in it! You have to buy that separately! That's called being a chromosome dumping ground! they also sell plastic dog bowls for $70 omg

Mo' Angeles

Life these days has been a balancing act between my inside and my outside, between my feelings and my chores, where some feelings keep me motivated to do my chores, and most chores keep me from feeling too many feelings. It's all about work, rent, spending habits, groceries, furniture and the apartment. I need to keep my eye on the smaller picture because my brain can't handle anything else. One day it'll all fit into the bigger picture and lay the groundwork for the biggest picture: my motion picture. Ghehe. Poop.

Feelings are weird. There's the need to constantly clarify the situation while it's been changing, but the danger that too much clarity will be overwhelming. There's the need to be overwhelmed because it's the only time I'll ever feel like this, in this place, in this way. There's the worry that it's only been two weeks and I'm already feeling my life congeal into into a routine that works perfectly fine. There's the absolute freedom of living in a city where my dreams live and not a soul knows me but my brother. And this is such. a. big. city.

It's so crazy and so big that I haven't even accepted that it's home yet. How could I? I haven't felt like I had a room that was a part of a "home" since I lived in Redmond. For years it's been a fact that my living situations were temporary and by chance, linked to college life, a life that was always supposed to be over. College is the final guarantee that something will be different someday; afterward, your life can stay exactly the same if you want it to.

So as this life stops feeling like vay-cay, there's a feeling setting in that my home is actually going to be My Home. It's like touring an empty set the night before they start filming. You turn over the props in your hand with a kind of heartsick clarity before all the next day's bustle makes you forget you have anything but a job to do. Before I realize it, this room is going to be where the next few years have happened; one day, I'll think of this room when I miss home. However long I stay here, there's never going to be an artificial countdown. It's been a long time since I was promised that kind of peace.

I'm in the middle in a lot of different areas in my life, and I feel like this is as good a thing for my friends to know as *actual* things that happen to me. Things haven't been just home and work - I've seen the sights, seen Eric on the weekends, met his friends, heard endless bloodcurdling screams in Old Filipino Town, gotten in touch with a smokin' hot babe whose number I was somehow given at the bank, and watched Baby Geniuses 2 while fucking high. Things are good, but so, so weird. And since these feelings in this place will never happen in this way ever again, it might be interesting for you to hear my non-thoughts before they're all sexed up for the biopic.

ANYWAY. thanks for all of YOUR updates, people. They mean SO MUCH to me even when you think they're boring. :'D