I got spoilt
February 22, 2010
While I de-fog my head from twenty-fifth birthday weekend shenanigans and attempt a decent, comprehensive update, I’d like to introduce you to my new friend:
This is Beatrix VonStargaze, a gift from my friend Becky, and she is thrilled to meet you. While I collect myself, she is being all fragrant and perfect to my right and it is making for a great Monday morning.
-CJ
buying my nostalgia
February 12, 2010
I fuckin’ loved The Juliana Theory when I was a sophomore in high school. When I heard they were playing their first shows in five years (and consequently the last shows they’ll ever play) and going all the way through Emotion Is Dead… I hopped right on that link to Buy Now.
It isn’t until August but it’s damn nice to have something to look forward to.
-CJ
after a novel length e-mail to a girl friend…
February 12, 2010
“I had to look up minutiae. You’re like homework, only you’re prettier and I don’t dread you.”
Best compliment ever.
-CJ
about a week after I admitted my love for him
February 11, 2010
a break down of the John Mayer interview that I’m sure you’ve heard something about
The best part? This comment from Kandeezie:
“I just sold my tickets to his Valentine’s Day concert in Toronto (yeah, laugh, I was one of those girls who loved him to death!). Yay for “preferences” but when you make a sweeping statement about black women – essentially that we’re cute but not high enough of the social hierarchy to date, then it’s Craigslist for me and my tickets! The other 5 million fails in this interview just blow my mind. Really.”
I’m all for brutal honesty, even when it bites. Half of the quotes I actually giggled at. I don’t take from this that Mayer is racist, just really shitty at averting stupid questions with open answers that wouldn’t alienate a huge percentage of his fan base.
“My dick is sort of like a white supremacist.”
That’s sick, dude.
Offensive statements are spewed daily by all walks. But when you’re saying this many of them for print? Watch your fuckin’ mouth.
-CJ
tasty sparkles
February 10, 2010
Co-worker: “I have a problem with eating glitter.”
CJ: “I don’t!”
good & bad news
February 10, 2010
The good:
”We want you to be looking down at your popcorn to make sure there isn’t blood on it,” Reese said laughingly. “There will be a lot of fluids flying!”
I volunteer to be Tallahassee’s love interest. I’m kind that way.
The bad:
“KILLSWITCH ENGAGE vocalist Howard Jones is leaving the band’s current headlining tour with The Devil Wears Prada and Dark Tranquility due to unforeseen circumstances. All That Remains vocalist Phil Labonte will be filling in for Jones for a few shows in the interim, until the KsE guys can determine what the plan will be for the remaining tour dates, which are currently scheduled to run through the end of March.”
Does anyone want to buy a single pit ticket to the March 6th show? If Howard’s not going, neither am I. I’m going to cry under my desk for a while.
-CJ
Sunday shenans
February 10, 2010
Apparently, the Saints won.
I was busy working these:
I’m not at liberty to discuss what happened after the bottles were empty but the cops were totally pissed and I woke up with this:
-CJ
birthday pictures
February 8, 2010
From my little ladypants’ seventh birthday extravaganza, all courtesy of the lovely and talented Kimberly Giffordpants.
Bet you wish you were there for the cupcakes alone.
-CJ
mah blood-sperience
February 5, 2010
I like to think that Kiddo is so independent that she even chose when she would be born, despite my and any medical professional’s advice to bake in my oven for another month, at the least. Her early delivery resulted in significant blood loss for me. I’m all, here’s a warm home for you to chill in for a while, get comf, and she was all, DIE, MOM. Thanks, kid.
Since then I’ve always said I would donate blood. It’s the people that donate that were there for me when I was the almost-recipient of a large quantity of not-my-blood. (Luckily I did not need the transfusion and I just remained white(r) for several days.) Knowing it was there and it would have helped possibly save my life (I was very near death, apparently, but no one would tell me that because I’d already performed a Stage 5 FREAK OUT) inspired me to give, give give.
Then seven years happened when I wasn’t looking.
So I stopped making excuses and boarded this rumbling Red Cross bus up the street from work. In a room the size of an airplane bathroom, I answered personal questions such as whether or not I’d accepted money for sex between now and 1977. There was another grown woman in the room with me. There was no room for oxygen in there, let alone my sexual history. Which does not include money for sex in the seventies, as I was not here yet.
I’m not afraid of needles but I am afraid of anything medically related that I do not understand. (All of it.) When it took four nurses poking my right arm and then my left for a vein ‘suitable for this type of needle’ I almost checked out. (Apparently you’re supposed to eat and drink first. I did neither.) They were afraid of breaking the vein, I think they said, in which case I would have completely flipped the fuck out because, um, THEY BREAK? And how does one fix that? I don’t even want to know, don’t tell me.
So I chanted please don’t let me die on my lunch break a few hundred times while squeezing a stress ball, strapped to a blood pressure cuff, and consequently losing all feeling on one side and going numb from the freezing cold air they were blasting on me unnecessarily.
After a few minutes into the Draining of Jill, I decided I would definitely do that again. Up until that point though, I had nearly sworn off the big blood bus. The crush I developed on the nurse that was a ringer for Da Brat could have helped a little tiny bit.
So, mostly, suck. But overall, feel goody. “You’re paying it forward! With plasma!” -Jamie
“Your boob totally made a difference.” -Ashley
If anyone would like to come hold my hand on April 1st, that’d be lovely.
-CJ
