Filed under: toys
He’s such a flirt.
It used to be that a bottle of hard liquor was the only excuse I needed to pick up the phone and get some kids together. As there’s rarely a handle in my grip any more and my social life has centered around the drink for almost a decade, I’m going to have to make more of an effort to DO things, SEE things, and GO places. Very few of my friends like the same kind of music as me, and hardly any of them are Dodger or UFC fans. In lieu of forcing my interests on them via flooding or water torture (say you love Russell Martin! SAY IT!) I’m broadening my horizons starting now.
Last night my baby sister and her BFF, in town from A Place Where It Snows (so, far) came over for my sad attempt at a chicken taco dinner, dessert and a movie. I give them age-inappropriate entertainment in the form of 40 Year Old Virgin because it’s not what the youth can do for me; it’s what I can do for them. And I’m a giver. When I got home after dropping them off it was nearly eleven p.m. So many of my friends have challenged my invites for late weeknight shenanigans, and I’m finally getting it. It was all I could do to beg my co-worker for a caffeine fix this morning so I could function.
Next week I’m dog-sitting a tough as nails, teeny Chihuahua named Harley. He’s mostly blind and deaf and walks like a stiff toy soldier, chest pumped and ready to fuck shit up. I’m way more excited than I should be, really, and I’ll probably destroy his hardass image by posting pictures of him on the internet, all snuggled up with me.
-CJ
Filed under: frenz
Me: I’m between Velma Dinkley and Alabama Worley for Halloween.*
Josh: Velma.
Me: But I want Alabamaaa.
Josh: No one will get it.
Me: But it would make me happy. And maybe the girl of my dreams would run up and say, OMG I LOVE TRUE ROMANCE LET’S SCISSOR.
*it is NEVER to early to prepare for Halloween
Reading Cunt and Autobiography of a Blue-Eyed Devil back to back have spawned a gargantuan mindfuck to rival all mindfucks and to say I will be changing some aspects of my life immediately is putting it mildly.
Her words should be required reading for women, for Americans, for humans. I really, really could burst into tears right now. I’m so fucking moved, enlightened and empowered.
-CJ
An article from the local paper: http://www.ocregister.com/articles/kerry-says-wedding-2500769-mom-ago
Step 1: Give good.
Step 2: Get good.
Sometimes you have to reach out and grab it, but it’ll be there.
An amusing anecdote: I met my baby daddy for lunch yesterday and we parked outside a romantic store, in our seperate cars.
“We look like we’re having an affair… seperate cars, naughty store on our lunch break…” So I pretended to be scandalous and wiped my lipstick on his collar, for kicks.
-CJ
Filed under: kiddo
she’s pretty gangster herself.
-CJ
I can never be arsed to believe I’ve got my life in check for more than a few hours at a time. My sanity/happiness/general well being can only afford so many realizations and epiphanies and the past week has been flooded with them. It’s exhausting.
I miss being naïve.
I just got a plane ticket sent to me via e-mail. A thousand some odd miles between here and me should do something to clear my fuckin’ head. I’ve never flown alone before.
I can’t pull my face out of Autobiography of a Blue-Eyed Devil by Inga Muscio. Having my ethnic studies info still sorta fresh in my mind, this book perfectly captures/answers/addresses so many thoughts and questions that were burning away in my brain.
On the seven week mark of no alcohol, I had a beer, and then another. The next night I had some wine. I’ve yet to embrace that familiar heavy headed, soft around the edges feeling, as I kept my intake light. I think I can trust myself to indulge in the occasional cocktail. I have absolutely benefited more than I can say from the absence of alcohol for that period of time. I’m pretty damn proud of me.
-CJ
I miss…
-Napster
-the VHS rewinder in the shape of a car that my parents had
-my pager
-my Skip-It
-the naivety that life at fifteen is really fucking hard
-my first turtle, a studly little Box named Buddy, of all things
-my family’s old nearly half acre backyard
-blanket forts
-my 1980 El Camino
-when the hardest part of my job was scooping ice cream straight out of the walk-in freezer, or carefully scripting Happy Birthday, Tommy on an ice cream cake
-my job at the frozen yogurt shop, and the Mexican restaurant two doors down
-my friend Carly
-fearlessly kissing cute boys before telling them my name
-my geedee Agent Felix CD with She Has Nice Teeth
-the used record store in Whittier that closed within the last few years
-when college was more of a hobby
-technique class in massage therapy school
-my blue 3-eye Doc Martens
-getting butterflies
-4% APR
-Tetris
Filed under: frenz
Is there such thing as having too many good people in your life? No?
WHEW. That was close.
On Wednesday, Ree coordinated with my hero neighbor Heith to come pick up my car keys and help fix my ugly grindy brakes while I was at work, because she was afraid of me driving such an atrocious noise machine. Heith not only fixed my brakes, he washed and gassed my precious box car, and all silent like (as silent as can be, save for Killswitch Engage at full volume) I drove to work, high on new brake pads and life in general.
Last night, seven of us lined the bar at Chili’s for appetizers and baseball games and conversations and coloring (Kiddo) and it was so. damn. nice.
My head would fall off without Ree. Who else would hold it in place?
-CJ
