I HARDLY EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE.

On a very bright note, two weeks ago our near and dear fuzzy old man, Furby, drifted off into the night by way of the dog door. We’ve since posted about twenty color pictures of him throughout the neighborhood, deeming him lost and leaving our cell phone numbers up for the pranking (yes, this happened). Last night we received a call from someone ‘who knows where he is’ but ‘doesn’t have him’ and wanted a reward, which we hadn’t offered. Though we would pay to have the Furb back home, it seems so ugly to demand payment of your neighbors for their pet. However, the scheme did not continue (be it the threatening message my drunken boyfriend left on the caller ID number…) and this morning a woman let us know that she had him safe and sound and we could swoop him up when we were ready. We were poolside at my parents’ house but jumped into dry clothes and headed out shortly after.

He’s slightly thinner and much more vocal and HOME.

ahaha

-CJ

“Worky. How’s your day?”

“Nine to fivey.”

That’s my big, bald sweetheart, Joshua.

She of the gracious invite to said shindig, Aislinn.

These images tie into one of two new resolutions.

•  I will be less stingy with photographs

I’m notoriously camera shy and that is putting it nicely. I’m generally pretty profane in my aversion to being in a picture and despite all my ‘radical self-love‘ speak, I insist every one that does end up taken is ugly and… the f-word. Fat. All the time with this! I need to cut the shit. Pictures don’t have to be pretty. They have to capture a moment in time so you can laugh at your hair with your (or someone else’s) grandbabies!

I may not share all or even most of the pictures I find myself taking willingly but I will not shy away or bash myself either!

The second resolution I recently made, and please suppress your laughter, is:

• I will be nicer 

Simply put. I have learned a lot about myself and I don’t like a lot of what I see. I recognize the selfishness and the roundabout and confusing way I try to deal with my anger. I see that I try to place blame more often than I will accept it as my own. My personality is generally very abrasive and without sacrificing who I am, I think I could make a conscious effort to be friendlier and more engaging. I’ve unofficially made Ree the supervisor of this resolution. As such, she is allowed to tell me when I’m acting the opposite of my resolve and I can’t take it personally. Because that wouldn’t be nice.

Wish me luck. Please.

-CJ

Nothing looks good on a woman who isn’t brave, and it takes a brave woman to wear orange pants. Not everyone will like what you’re wearing, but a few people will love it as much as you do. Those people are the correct ones.

-mighty girl

*The time lapse part of my brain has broken. Things that occured six months ago feel very much like they were last week. This explains my maturity regression. Sometimes I think I’m sixteen.

The Juliana Theory are not the best band, nor one of my favorites, and don’t hold an especially meaningful place in my heart. But it was their first show in five years and their last show ever and I felt obligated a few months back (who knows how many?!) when I bought myself a ticket. I hadn’t seen them before but I’d worn out a copy of Emotion Is Dead when I was in high school. Plus, ya know, live music kicks ass.

It was really, really cool. They played really fucking well and I thoroughly enjoyed swaying around and singing along. I’m glad I got the chance to see them and hang out with my cousin Alex and her ladypants, Heidi, while doing so.

On Saturday I cleaned with fervor until only a few stray white cat hairs remained. We ordered the UFC fight and had some people over for burgers and dogs in bulk packages. Of note: I am really bad at feeding the vegans. My apologies to those friends.

The turn out was fantastic. I met and made merry for the first time with a friend I’ve talked to through a journaling site for a couple months. Some friends I was starting to lose touch with made an appearance and rekindling with my blackened heart. Even people I didn’t know showed up, causing me to whisper to Josh, “who the fuck is that dude??”

The fights were super disappointing. A geedee refund is in order. I actually left the room for the last few minutes of the BJ Penn fight and I had been pretty jazzed to see it go down.

A couple of us headed up the street where a 29th birthday party was occuring that included an ice sculpture and a stripper with few to no boundaries. These two things were not combined at any point, mind you… that I know of. 

I struggle with my thoughts on the… stripping industry? I’m all for the freedom to do what works best for you, to flaunt your talents by way of gyrations and picking up cash without using your hands, feet or mouth. If you know what I mean. And I think that you do. Although then I cringe a little to think of the risk this girl may be taking some nights and how, above the money she makes, I hope this is what she wants to be doing.

There’s a whole feminist rant to be had for either side of that coin. I’ll leave it to the pros.

Making nice with new neighbors is always fun, even if you’re supposed to be 100 yards away from that block by law. Ahem.

Sunday was lazy and indulgent. Kiddo was between excitement and nerves for the upcoming first day of school, which went swimmingly compared to last year. There’s a new after school program that she’s excited to check out and new friends to make, as her closest is attending another school this year, and a new teacher to make crazy. As long as the kid is happy, I’m happy.

Would it make me a big meanie to say that I am so relieved school is back on? Let the routine fall back into its blessed place.

-CJ

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

Then he patched my flat tire and made me dinner and served it to me with a cold Diet Coke and a kiss on the cheek.

-CJ

“Oh?”

“There’s hot girl across the street from [his best friend]. I think I saw one in her car.”

“…”

“…maybe that’s just what I wanted to see.”

Internet, you now know all you need to steal my boyfriend. Good luck.

-CJ