Juicy in LA

On my way to work this morning, I saw a Range Rover with a Juicy Couture air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror.

Would you believe I've been enjoying life in LA quite a bit recently?

Wow, it's been a little rainy today, and the view from my work's window is the most beautiful thing I've seen in a while. The window overlooks the 405 freeway and the McMansions that dot the hills of Bel Air, and the light is that perfect twilight through the clouds, etc.

It's a little depressing, though, that I'm so excited to see a little sun-through-the-clouds action, casting shadows on nothing-too-special.



Sorry, under-attended blog, that this is the best I can come up with. That said, the only readers of my blog appear to be googlers of umbrella tattoos, so my guilt is minimal.

It must be awesome to have a girlfriend.

math

I just found an old post-it on my desk, and it says "6+11=18."

I hope I didn't write that.

Day of the Dead

Awesome.

feeding frenzy

So, Boyfriend "Can you put some more bacon on top of my milkshake?" Bill has decided that, given his advanced age, the time has come to more greatly consider the long term effects of diet and exercise.

I am glad of this, as I didn't want to worry about a) Bill burning his tongue while lapping bacon grease out of the pan or b) Bill ruining yet another evening whinging about brain freezes and begging for milkshake runs or c) Bill stealing the fat from my steak off my plate.

But prior to Bill's "oooh, do we have any flax to put on top of my high fiber cereal?" transformation, he was my food id, and I, the superego. Our powers combined created a sensible ego known to share a small (ok, mid-sized) bowl of ice cream while making kissy-face on the couch.

Now, however, I am driven by an insane hunger. I have consumed, on average, 3 servings of Oreos a day for the past few days. I contemplated leaving work to go buy a cupcake, even though I don't actually like cake very much.

I just finished my lady-time, so no, I'm not pregnant but thanks for your concern.

No, I fear that a certain number of calories must be consumed in our apartment, and I am, unfortunately, being forced to pick up Bill's slack. Sigh. Just call me "Jack Sprat's live-in girlfriend."

ohhh, the working world.

I just received this email from a colleague:

"Could you also make each caption seven points instead of eight? You just highlight the caption including the final paragraph mark, then highlight the 8 in the little formatting box and type in a 7, then hit enter."

Thanks for that.

next year.

I don't know how I missed National Punctuation Day (or its official meatloaf), but I did. And I am sad.

two to too

Two days to too old!

Actually, I am excited. My first birthday since starting college where I haven't been 'in transition' on the big day! Fuck the academic year and how it perpetually infringes on my celebration.

And, it's my golden birthday. I only get one of those, and this is it! At this particular moment, I am positively euphoric about the impending day of aging.

Change

I'm a regular at the airport.
It's getting chilly in LA-- low 70s, rain promised for the weekend...
And, I turn 26 in 8 days. I'd really rather not.

Oh, fuck lungs.

Every now and then, a news story comes out that just rocks one's world.

Apparently, microwave popcorn can cause lung deterioration.

The last convenience food that can always be found in my cabinets must go. Really, popcorn is the only reason I even have a freaking radioactive microwave.

R.I.P. microwave popcorn. I'm going old-school.

I'm so over it.

Los Angeles, I am so over your weather. Give me variety, give me rain, give me anything but tepid blue skies and dry heat.

carrot sticks

Sometimes, I throw some carrot sticks into my lunch. But then, while I work/think about food, I get unbearably depressed about how I will eventually have to eat carrot sticks. Even though I like carrots. There's just something a little depressing about them, especially when snacked upon in a cubicle.

Me? Simulated? Hmm.

I am probably like, the 50 millionth blogger to talk about this NY Times article in which some guy with a "Dr." preceding his name states that “there’s a 20 percent chance we’re living in a computer simulation.”
It says some other stuff, too, fascinating, really, and I'm possibly misunderstanding the whole thing. Still, if we are in fact an elaborate simulation by some sort of post-human, one has to wonder why they are so obsessed with Paris Hilton. It is somewhat comforting to think that it is actually some future mind that is getting stupider, not us. I wonder if they thought it was hilarious to give the 2000 election to Bush. I wonder if they are going to get tired of playing with the US and will focus their energies on Eritrea or Kyrgyzstan, those easily ignored nations.
Also, I wonder if I started sporting a "I'd like my ass to be better defined" on the back of my t-shirt if my ass would be suddenly more rounded, or if I would instead be struck with a desire to do lunges.

oh, to the poorhouse

My 403(b) has LOST 17¢. I can't believe it. My heart is broken. I have been robbed. Fuck you, Cheney.

ties and true love...

I love my boyfriend, Bill, very much. It is with great sadness I must report to you that he does not really know how to tie a tie. I accept this as further evidence to his great manliness. He will, no doubt, accuse me of trying to emasculate him on my blog. This is false. If I wanted to do that, I would talk about his lengthy, sissy-girl showers. No, instead, I tell you about how his uber-manliness unfortunately does not allow his fingers to tie fine knots.
Alas, last night Bill needed to wear his (1) tie with his (1) suit. And, because he does not own a bolo tie (much to his sadness), he had to tie the tie. Thank god for the internet.
For your amusement, I offer you... Bill!

Hey Korea, Hey!

On some Korean search engine, a post I wrote about Desperate Housewives in 2005 shows up as #3 if one searches "desperate housewives."
Fascinating.

days like these, etc.

this morning, i finally decided it was worth ironing this lovely silk skirt i bought at a sample sale in london several years ago.
after a lengthy hunt for the iron, i finally found it (why, boyfriend, would you have put it in the cabinet ABOVE the fridge?), and ironed the skirt.

I promptly spilled my breakfast on it. I rinsed the spot & decided it would be fine.

I start driving to work. I run my hands through my hair. It's still wet? Oh, no, I just have a big blob of conditioner left on top of my head.

I get to work, step out into the sun. The spot is totally still visible. After scrubbing the spot every few hours, it is virtually gone by the time I go to lunch, when I spill salsa on myself this time.

Just now, at 4:30, I notice, while in the bathroom, that my bra is plainly visible beneath my sweater. Let's hope everyone thinks that's intentional...

Oh, dorkiness

After reading this article in the New York Times about the new Harry Potter book, I don't think I will be able to resist getting the book this weekend. I had hoped to make it until the first round of people finish reading, so that I could borrow their's, but I just don't think so. Bummer.

best analogy ever

Once you give it up, you will lose your stickiness! Forever!

You may even end up with a small metal bolt. Yikes.

Abstinence-only education, hooray.

I have managed to update my blog twice in the hour I have been at work. Today promises to be productive. You, readers, are lucky.