roles

August 26, 2010

You incorporate another being in your life and suddenly shit starts getting reeeal domestic. I think it happened at the pause between which seasoning is best on barbequed chicken and the ‘if I sweep, will you mop?’ plead.

I break the fascade sometimes and revert back to shenaniganing around the city with some lady friends. Last night found four of us sipping beers and shots of Jager at a friend’s house before a company sponsored baseball game at Angel stadium.

Yes I know I’m a Dodger fan, thank you, but I have a love of the SPORT.

Geez. Anyway. Next thing I knew, the Angels were down, and we were warming bar stools at a nearby gay bar. Then suddenly it was after midnight and I was drunk. Good morning, Story of My Life.

At the time I realized I should probably head home and not lose my ass in pool any longer, I remembered my very favorite little dark punk rock joint was about a signal away from where I was. And it would have been like driving by your grandma’s street and not at least saying hello. I parted the familiar curtain by myself and sipped some beer while Ferris Bueller’s Day Off played behind the bar. A super cute girl asked if I was there alone and I attributed it to my incredible popularity, natch. We made friends. And then we went to the bathroom and showed each other our tattoos in all the inappropriate places. She had one whole boob inked!

It was a good night but I had drinker’s remose like you wouldn’t believe except that you totally would because this happens every single time, doesn’t it? Doh.

BBQ at my house this weekend for the BJ Penn fight. My new friend is coming. If you play your cards right, maybe she’ll show you the tattoo.

-CJ

I dreamt I had seats right behind home plate at a Dodger game…
sitting between Jack Nicholson and Brad Pitt.

The alarm went off at 5:55 a.m. and all I could do was scream, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME, CLOCK?!”

-CJ

World Series

November 5, 2009

I’m sad to baseball end. During the season you can guarantee something good on television most nights, arrange dates or family/friend gatherings in little plastic seats over the bright green expanse of the field where you’ve got an almost unbeatable game experience to compensate the overpriced beers, and have a daily conversation topic with most everyone I know.

*sigh*

I was silly happy to see the Dodgers go as far as they did and I figured, like last year, if they’re going to lose to someone they might as well lose to the team everyone else lost to as well. So I actually rooted for the Phillies over the Yankees during this World Series. And I was a sad panda when it all ended with the Yankees’ 27th World Series victory.

From an article titled Baseball Flame on Feministe:

“When teams like the Yankees buy all their talent, it takes the heart out of the game for fans who appreciate the  teamwork and training needed to achieve a mutually shared goal like winning a national title. Where’s the art in buying your team?”

Thoughts?

-CJ

from within a fog..

September 21, 2009

“What’s the problem? You guys have never seen a hungover lesbian with a jackhammer before?”

Prolly my favorite line in Without a Net. (For Those Who Like to Dig by Ricky Lee.)

My tired, red eyes and nagging cough can be explained via the following timeline:

  • company anniversary party, friend Oscar’s birthday party where much vomit ensued, though not on my part (or on my parts either, praise Buddha), breakfast burritos, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs in 3D, Return to Ozz themed house warming party that involved much dancing, breakfast in San Fernando Valley, Dodgers vs. Giants from reserve section in the blissful, blissful shade…

my diehard Angel fan in BLUE

No complaints.
Nottaone.

-CJ

Me: Did you see Russell’s second one of the season on Sunday?!
Dad: (who was in Lake Havasu) Nope, we were boating that day up to the cool water.
Me: I was the only Dodger fan at Chili’s, yelling and cheering, and people stared at me.
Dad: That is what you get when you live in the O.C. They are all quiet little Angel fans with a stupid little monkey.*

*I am only recapping something that made me shout-laugh. Please do not use my family’s words against me.

-CJ

mourning & moping

July 23, 2009

Last night after a wildly entertaining evening with a sink full of dishes and teaching myself to empty my vacuum, I got Kiddo into bed and I dressed for a work out. I hopped on the treadmill and flipped the switch. My precious and charming twenty-one-year-old treadmill does not have any concept of gradual speed increase, it simply launches into motion when you turn it on. So I’m in my normal prepared stance, ready to go from still to a near run in a split second, when all the lights in the house dim and flicker and the thing sputters and dies.

A moment of silence and may she rest in peace.
We only had a few sweaty weeks together where we bid farewell to some stubborn weight that had settled in my hips.

I’m told things like ‘blew a surge’ and other things like ‘need a surge protector.’ And I’m all but what does that MEAN? It sounds like it’s dead but I’m up for second opinions.

(Second opinion from funny co-worker this morning when I asked about ‘blowing a surge’: “Last I checked I’m not gay and I don’t even like System of a Down.”)

Defeated, I move on to free weights when my cell phone rings. Rarely would my dad call around nine p.m. as he works twenty-seven hour work days so I worried for a second before he was exclaiming, “TELL ME YOU JUST SAW THAT.”

“Buhh, saw what?”

OH, JUST A MOMENT TO GO DOWN IN DODGER FUCKING HISTORY. THAT IS ALL.

I spent the rest of the night in between mourning and moping. I could probably cry right now if I wasn’t on drugs in a good mood.

-CJ

weekend whirlwind

June 22, 2009

Over the weekend, coffee in hand, Kiddo and I attended a graduation party for a co-worker’s kid. I took in the amount of strangers I’d face and divided it by quality time with a couple of my co-workers and decided it was a good idea to go. A nearby park (quite literally, in the backyard of this house) kept Kiddo and the only other partygoer under ten entertained for the most part. When the cake and cookies were tsunami-ing through their blood stream, we initiated the Quiet Game which they played with admirable determination.

8:45 a.m., Saturday morning: Mama, can I come cuddle with you?

Could you have send no?

We went on a two store quest to purchase Ice Age and accidentally purchased Across the Universe and Next Friday as well. It needed to happen.
That night our neighbors fed us steak because they’re awesome and we watched game two of the Angel/Dodger series. WHICH WE TOOK, BY THE WAY. Ahem. I have a few sore Angel fan friends so my gloating had to be released somewhere.

Father’s Day was for brunch, toy stores and Huntington Beach with Kiddo and her daddy:




Check out the dune buggy/wheelchair in the background!

If all the daddies and grandpas had a day half as good as mine, the world is right.

Tonight I start school. Four nights a week of Ethnic Studies for one month. Eeek.

-CJ