Raw Diet

You may remember that I've been toying with the idea of starting a Raw Diet recently, in an effort to get more of that Discipline I so sorely lack, and to lose some of the holiday times fayat which I am so angrily carting around. Well, today I heard something - from an expert, I'll have you know - that anything Pasteurized is out. As in, not allowed. No juice, no milk, none of that. This is besides the original travesty of No Chipotle. Sorry, Raw Diet, but fuck you. I'm still interested in your distant cousins, the Vegetarian and Vegan Diets, though. Not in a creepy way. But holla atcha girl.

Whatever that means.

You Want to be Me...You Just Don't Know It Yet.

JOKING.

Except for the fact that I totally saw Craig Ferguson yesterday, and OMG you guys? Heart. Kissies. Case closed.

In other news, work has taken a turn for the worse recently, and I think I might have to throw a professional hissy fit. I'm not looking forward to this, since my boss terrifies me. I might have to channel this girl at work, A, who is totally balls (the good kind). She will demand what she knows is fair (her current crusade at work is getting them to pay for health insurance that covers birth control), and from I know of her previous exploits, she usually gets it. Balls. The good kind.

Now I'm watching Kyle play Final Fantasy I (the Nintendo game) via emulator on our Dell laptop. Last night I fell asleep at 7:45 pm and didnt wake up until 8 this morning. It was fucking amazing. I should do that every night. In fact, I think I'll start getting ready for bed and see if 11 hours of sleep is as good as 12 was.

No, Really. The Little Things. Or: What is this post ABOUT?!

After posting last night about how envious I am of people with washer/dryer hookups in their apartments, I put a load of socks (yes, just socks) in the washer and forgot about them. In our communal laundry room. Fuck! But they were still there this morning, albiet not as fluffy as they would have been if they hadn't been neglected terribly all night. Still, though. I wouldn't have bolted awake at 6:30 this morning if I had left them in a dryer IN MY OWN APARTMENT, would I?

It's Definitely the Little Things

M2: *conducting tour of apartment* ...and this is our bedroom! The end.

Priya: *peering into the bathroom* Oh, you guys have a washer and dryer? I bet you do laundry, like, whenever you feel like it, huh?

M2: yes...?

Priya: I hate you.

This is some BS right here.

Last night I went out with KJ. We were supposed to see Enchanted at the $7 theatre (anything to get out of the house, I guess), but when we had finished our Johnny Rocket's and pulled up to the theatre, we found that it was closed. Even though KJ supposedly looked it up on google and everything. Tsk. So we went to Pavilions (a grocery store) and bought a 6 pack, a pint of Ben and Jerry's chocolate fudge brownie ice cream, and retired to her apartment to watch episodes of The Office.

It was a night very well spent.Now, Kyle's in the kitchen (with Dinah) making me some Ramen because I'm craving the MSG or whatever heinous product it is that makes things taste so devilishly good. DON;T make any pregnancy jokes, which lots of people seem to be doing lately. Ugh. I mean, I get it, the appeal of children, and some day I hope to have, like, one of my own MAYBE, but jesus. I can't handle children. If I could meet a kid that at least acted domesticated, if not civilized, I would relent. Alas, not today.

Bus of Thought

Last night, Kyle and I put together our IKEA bed. It's amazing. I'm actually on my way home to hug it and kiss it right now. I have the next two days off. Thank god for that; I had a TERRIBLE day today. It was so unneccessarily, ridiculously difficult to get anything done, thanks to the relative stupidity of my coworkers. Any instance where I had to explain something to an underling that required them to infer anything, even the simplest of skipped steps, would cause them to stop the presses and either ask me to start from the beginning or fuck up the task so thoroughly I wanted to break their necks over my knee. Multiply this experience by eight hours, the entirety of my workday, and you will catch a glimpse of the bloodcurdling scream I have building up in the back of my throat. This misery did, however, give me justification to buy myself sushi for dinner again. To cheer myself up, you know. Regain some perspective on the purpose of humanity's continuing.

For some reason, I just kept walking to the back of the bus just now till I got to the homeless people section, and then there was nothing to do but sit down among them. Now I'm awash in the smell of human exhalations and ammonia. Unfortunately, I so frequently spend my days surrounded by the evidence of bad manners that I'm hypersensitive to displaying any myself. So I would rather smell homeless than look rude. Oh well, who do I have to impress anyway? I'm going straight home, and if anything persists I'll take my coat to the dry cleaners tomorrow. And if anyone tries any funny business I'll kick them in the groin, but if I know homeless people, they won't. They're too terrified that my phone is a manifestation of alien technology, or that my purse is looking at them.

Aaaand there goes my bus stop. I was distracted by a black man barking at me as the doors were open at his stop to get my attention and then waving his phone at me in a "Call Me!" kind of way. I yelled "EW!" to try and make him rethink his approach to life a little, and the look on his face as the bus shut its doors and pulled away kept me so entertained that I missed my stop. Serves me right for being smug.

Good thing I'm so self aware. If I weren't, I would be getting more and more bitter, instead of gaining this current amused detachment from my personal improvement. Amused detachment. Yes.

In any case, I made it home finally. I have to go wash the homeless smell off myself now. It would be kind of a sexy image on which to end this post if it wasn't so... utterly disgusting, no?

Isn't this better than me forgetting to post at all?

Kyle and I had a fantastic Thanksgiving and Black Friday. On Thursday, we went to M2 and D's aunt's house in Long Beach. Turkey, cranberry sauce, and 1/2 a pumpkin pie went home with us. I protested at the time but now that I think about it, a piece of pumpkin pie would go down rather smoothly right about now...That night, we went to M2 and D's apartment - also in Long Beach - and played Balderdash and watched Conan O'Brien until the wee hours. We slept on their futon so we could get up bright and early to participate in the madness known as Black Friday, the shoppingest day of the year.

This morning M2 and I went to JC Penny to pick up a special pillow for D, and Nordstrom Rack so I could buy TWO PAIRS OF SHOES for 60 DOLLARS. Then we met up with Kyle and D, who met us elsewhere in Long Beach for lunch (Indian food!) and more shopping at Buffalo Exchange. I could very easily have spent a significant chunk of change there, but I exercised some restraint for once, because I knew we were heading to...IKEA!!!!!!!!!!!! We went to IKEA and bought a BED. With a mattress! And a headboard, and EVERYTHING. And it's getting delivered tomorrow, and Kyle will be off for the day to build it! Isn't it nice when everything comes together to benefit you? Yeah, it is. And it happens so infrequently that this year, it is how I began my "What I am Thankful For" List.

Thanksgiving 2007

Was a rousing success. Turkey, friends, Balderdash...it's bedtime. Yes! Food coma!

Internets

I think now is as good a time as ever to divulge the following facts:
- I had sushi for dinner yesterday AND today,
- we steal our internet from an unknown neighbor, so when I lose connectivity it's not so much the fault of our ISP as someone's internet schedule not aligning perfectly with mine. This person is clearly not a participant in NaBloPoMo.

Thanksgiving tomorrow promises to be quite fun. I'm in love with turkey and cranberry sauce, and with eating in general, so I plan to make the most possible from my one culture-sanctioned day of gluttony. I'm going to go to bed now, because I need to rest up. I'm serious about this. Also, the timestamp is correct...I'm posting this from my phone at 9pm. Zzzzzzz!

Thanksgiving Prep

This week is killing me softly. I can't wait till Thursday. I managed to get Thursday AND Friday off...shopping is MINE! And everybody else's. There will be sales!! And I'm gonna buy the SHIT out of everything. Here's a math equation to show you how I feel.

But first, let me apologize for using math in any capacity other than to tell you how many tequilas is too many (for the record, ONE tequila is too many). Now for the math and feelings n' shit.

Raise + Rent not a part of this paycheck's budgetary deductions = (Priya's Normal Buying Power)X3.5

Now you watch this video. Yay!



Found, courtesy of Heather Armstrong, at Dooce.

Okay, now that we've been officially thrown WAYYYY off track, how are you guys liking my video embedding recently? Badass, no? Awesome, or totally awesome? I vote for FUCKING AWESOME!!!!

I'm in a weird mood, obviously. I can't think of anything today. Have you noticed that I have totally given up on that 5 coherent paragraphs a day thing? It's hard enough posting anything at all, much less something that others would care about. My schedule's been all fucked up recently. For a while there Kyle and I were scheduled for the same time every day, so we'd get off and actually have like six hours to kill until bedtime. It was weird, but fun. So that's where those few days went, where all I posted was, "OMG" and "Why DID I siGN uP 4 ThIz NaBloPoMo B\ullShizznit?!?!!" But I'm back now. Until Thursday.

For Thanksgiving, Kyle and I are going to M2 and Dave's Aunt's house in Long Beach. Then we're sleeping over at their apartment and...Dave called me earlier and asked if I wanted to go to Six Flags. Welllll, I'm not a big fan of the Hepatitis, so not really? But I didn't want to sound like a bitch. So maybe I'll go and have a funnel cake or something. That would pretty much make the day a success, as far as I'm concerned. That, and not getting a venereal disease.

What can I say? I'm ambitious.

Now I'm going to wash my face, brush my teeth, and lie quietly in bed until my thoughts stop screaming around inside my skull. Maybe I will be back for Tetris (did you see I put a link up so you could play Tetris too?)

Note to Self

Dear Priya of half an hour ago,

You usually get a Grande Hot Chocolate, light whip. You upgraded from Tall when you were about 12 years old. That was almost 10 years ago. I know you're hungry and cold, and you figure there's just enough time before the next bus arrives to hop into Starbucks and upgrade again, to Venti, but this is a terrible mistake. There isn't just a lot more hot chocolate in a Venti than there is in a Grande...there's a fuck of a lot more. And you will feel an otherworldly compulsion to finish it. For the love of all that is right, do not buy that drink, or all the tummy-curdling lactose overdose crampy pain in the world will be visited upon you.

Soon you will be me, and that's sad.

Love,
-Priya

Sucking it UP

Hey!

I know. You're shocked. I'm in front of a computer, about to do a real live real blog entry. Your head's exploding (or, as a recent Viagra email said, eploding). Eploding. Pronounced Eeee-Pl-OH-ding. That makes me giggle.

I want to apologize for missing the mark completely with my Domestic Disturbance post the other day. What I meant to say - without coming right out and saying it - was that when you're committed to a relationship, you don't just get up and walk away, even if you have planned to do so. You suck the hardship up and deal with it, because what you would lose if you gave up is more than what you currently lack. Does that make sense? Clearly, I need to try harder with this "writing" thing.

The fact that that post failed so miserably is disheartening in a lot of ways - people used to say I was a good writer, and I thought I at least had potential. But the first time I actually try to "show, and not tell", the way Mrs.B always told us to in High School, it didn't work. At all. Am I only good enough to write the easy funny shit? Something to think about.

Ummm, how to put this?

I]m sitting here in front of my computer, but I have a strange aversion to the idea of turning it on and doing a real post. I cant even apologize for this behavior. I honestly don't know what's gotten into me. Probably the enjoyment of my non-internet life is causing these feelings. I don't want to waste time while it's going on around me.

Unfortunately for me, I just showed Kyle this entry and he said, "hm, that's nice," and logged on to ESPN.com, so apparently the feelings aren't mutual. You'll have to excuse me while I chop his dick off and throw it out the window of a moving car. Maybe I'll be in Houston for Christmas after all!

Orlando Bloom, bitches.

Enough said. Please feel absolutely free to lay down at my feet and die a painful death of envy. He's WAY hotter in real life than he's ever been on celluloid. Take my word for it. You'll have to, because I've seen him with my own two eyeballs, and you haven't.

Thoughtless

AH.

Under the Wire

I have had a bitch of a day, guys. I can't really go into it, but suffice it to say that I am going to flex my Middle Management Muscles and refuse to do something in order to make my own life a little more tolerable. Is that terrible of me? I don't think so. I think I have to learn to use my power, and get used to that not necessarily being Abuse of Power, and not get so paranoid that it's not corrupting me absolutely or whatever. Well, I don't have absolute power, so it would be corrupting me just a little bit more than it did before. But HEY! That is not why I came here. I came here because I have to throw this under the bus and get out of the way before it...

Okay, I think there might have been some confusion when I first signed up for this NaBloPoMo thing...

New Links

I feel kind of embarrassed about that last post. I ran the subject matter by Kyle the other day and he said, "THIS IS WHY I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR BLOG." So...I updated my favourite blogs and favourite links list (you can find 'em over there on the left). Please click on all of them! You won't be sorry.

Domestic Disturbance

The relationship my boyfriend and I have is a simple one. Our longevity as a couple is, I think, rooted in the idea that our main goal is to keep the other person happy. That includes being funny, provoking deep thought, and snuggling. What it does not include is being disappointed, crying, and the first implications that we are starting to not know each other anymore.

Kyle's work schedule and mine are almost mutually exclusive. If you know me, we have already had this conversation, as it is a source of unending consternation for me. I apologize for the repeat, but this blog does not revolve around you. It revolves around NaBloPoMo.
I work from 10 to 5pm most days, which makes it necessary for me to be out of the house by 9 sharp. Kyle works from 3 to 11:30, which means he gets home at 12:15. The problem with this schedule is that I'm usually up and out of the house before he even thinks about doing the same, and am fast asleep by the time he gets home. We usually try to take advantage of the fact that we work down the street from each other by visiting in the middle of the work day, but these encounters last for less than half an hour. The most time we get to spend together is on the days we have off at the same time, and this happens rarely. The longest stretch of time so far that I have gone without having a conversation other than "how's your day going? let's eat! seeya later!" has been 14 days, and it's about to get worse. My recent promotion goes hand in hand with a change in schedule, so I'm waving goodbye to my coveted weekends as I write this. And when we do have days off, one or both of us will want to spend time with friends, instead. Not that we don't want to spend time with each other. It's just that there are only so many hours in the day, and, well, FRIENDS, dude. You gotta have 'em.
There have been many instances of "ships passing in the night" in the last few months. One of us will roll over in bed and grab the other, only to be sharply informed that the window for conversation or play has closed. I mean, you're either the Sexy Renegade who stood up for love and righteousness and was slapped smartly back down, or you're the evil Sleep Dictator who hates happiness. Either way, one of these interactions is perfect for making you hate yourself or raise a seriously malevolent middle finger at your significant other's back.

When Kyle and I first started dating, we told each other that if we were unhappy, we'd end it. It just made sense. We aren't married or anything. We don't have kids. We would just have one of those "state of the union" talks and maturely decide that it wasn't worth our misery anymore. Ah, for the logic of the Early Days. I'm just starting to realize that it may not be that simple.

Internet Still on the Fritz

Sorry guys, I have no idea what's going on with my computer. I have noticed, however, that my sidekick seems to have joined forces with my laptop by refusing to scroll down. GAH. Usually this wouldn't be an issue, but it's November. NaBloPoMo and all that. Take solace in the idea that I'm using this time away from the computer and the cloying wiles of Tetris to write an entry that is truly from the heart.

OVER MY DEAD BODY

My computer decided to have a seizure in the middle of a post, so in lieu of killing myself or scorching the screen of my laptop with a curling iron, I'm sending this to Blogger from my phone. That's how dedicated I am to NaBloPoMo. Anyway, the draft is saved, so I'll post my previously scheduled entry as soon as I can. I am well aware that this is becoming a pattern (if two posts in a row can be construed as a pattern), but fuck it. My internet connection sucks, and I don't have the patience to deal with it at all. So sue me.

Kissies,
- Priya

FUCK.

I had a post all written up, and it got deleted by the fucking internet. This kills my soul a little bit inside, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that this post was probably one of the first this month that required some thought of me to write. Fuccckkkkk. Anyway, this post counts as fulfilling my NaBloPoMo pledge, until tomorrow when I have regained the mental fortitude certainly required to try this again. In the meantime, I am going to go to a Marxist house party and drink until all the beer I am allotted is gone (from each according to his ability, to each according to his need, and all that).

Fuck,
-Priya

If this post were a song, it would be called "(Catching On) Slowly"

I'm not going to lie; Morrissey is a touchy subject for me. Which is why I'm going to bring him and The Smiths up, of my own accord. Because it's time we got into some of that touchy shit, here at Fairly Alarmed.

When I turned 15, I discovered irony, as opposed to sarcasm. Suddenly, everything I saw was in the context of whether or not I could take it seriously, and that included the music I was listening to at the time. When I was 15, I was a rabid student of pop-punk, and suddenly, Blink-182 was soooo played out. And so was Greenday, soooo lame. And Good Charlotte, and Sum 41, and all their carbon copies. Today I mostly stand by my decision to abandon those bands, except Greenday is still great. And so are Blink-182 and Sum 41, but mostly because I want to go back and tell myself to not be so damn embarassed about everything all the time. Jesus. Anyway, when I was 15, I gave up music. I stopped listening to the radio, stopped listening to new CDs, stopped watching MTv. I read, mostly, or slept.

Then, when I was 17, I rediscovered sincerity. I decided that when people made fun of me for liking what I liked, or wearing whatever, it was okay, because they were the ones with the problem, not me. I opened myself up to the world, to strange, new joys and pains, and knew exactly what I was doing. It was around this time that I started to go back into my dusty old CD collection and see if anything there still applied. I found that some of it still did, and most of it was The Smiths (or Ryan Adams, but that's a self-flagellating post for another day). I threw myself into that group anew, and into its frontman, Morrissey, with greater vigor than I had the first time around, when I was too young to really understand the point of all that beseeching. I read a book called How Soon is Never?, by Marc Spitz, and in it I read this line: "I didn't want to have sex with Morrissey any more than Christians wanted to have sex with Jesus."
It's true; I don't want to have sex with Morrissey. But I would give up meat if he asked me to. I would even honor my father and my mother.

The vigor I talked about in that last sentence really can't be described with a word. Instead, imagine this scenario: I listen to Morrissey's lyrics so much that I begin to believe he is actually talking ABOUT ME. No seriously, listen to this, doesn't it make you think of that time I was in photography class with Brian, and we were in the dark room, and it was all weird in there? And I had this big crush on him and then - no? You're not listening hard enough.
He was inside my head.

So obviously I know that's not true, but he's still in my soul (a word that makes me cringe, but which I use here for lack of a better one to describe the seat of my non-physical being, where the most precious memories and secrets are kept), to a degree that is so profound that even I don't get how delicate I am about it until someone makes fun of it. So forgive me if you mock Morrissey all in good fun and I call you a shit-for-brains dickless chump. I'm just harkening back to 17, the age of sincerity, and protecting the sweet, most tender side of myself.



Found, courtesy of Merlin Mann, at Kung Fu Grippe.

Thank you, Sir.

Dane Cook and Other Boring Items of the Day

Will called me last night after going to see Dane Cook live. I shuddered and asked him how it went.

Will: He was actually funny. He's funnier as a comedian than -
Me: - than he is as a comedic actor?
Will: *resigned* ...Yes.

In other news, I am really struggling for content here. I was telling Kyle last night that it has been too easy to achieve my goal of at least a 5 line paragraph a day, and that I'm thinking of bumping it up to five 5-line paragraphs for the second half of the challenge. I think it would force me into some kind of narrative, and it would make me choose to write about topics worth discussing for 25 lines.

So look forward to me pulling my hair out on the 14th as I try to think of YET MORE NOTHING to talk about. Won't that be fun? Kill me. I see now why veteran participants of NaBloPoMo always talk about how shitty last November was. BECAUSE THAT IS LITERALLY ALL THERE IS TO TALK ABOUT. I was looking forward to coming home, taking a shower, lotioning up and going to bed, but then I remembered that I have yet to make my fucking contribution today. So here I am, cranky at 8:30. I'm so fucking old.

HOWEVER. Today is Friday, and that is sweet. Tomorrow and Sunday I'm off.

BUT. After Sunday, my new schedule kicks in and I get Tuesday and Thursday off. LAME.

When it's time for Racist Humor, it's Racist Humor Time

Kyle: *impression of The Hives frontman Howlin' Pelle Almqvist*
Priya: Wait, what's that accent?
Kyle: The Hives are Swedish.
Priya: No wonder they're so funny!

AND NOW, FOR THE NON-RACIST PART OF THIS ENTRY

Kyle just saw Orlando Bloom. He has officially regained the lead in This Year's Celebrity-Off.

Can you believe tomorrow is FRIDAY already!? Jesus Christ!

NOTE: This blog post's title was taken from a variety of sources.
- Back when Kyle was in college, he used to live across the street from a pizza joint called Pizza Time, whose motto (or tag line or whatever) was: "When it's time for pizza...it's Pizza Time!"
- When Kyle and I lived in Seattle, there was a Vaguely-Mexican Food Chain (like Taco Bell) called Taco Time, and I used to say the "When it's time for tacos..." thing, and Kyle would get mad because that is PIZZA TIME'S THING, DUDE, GET IT RIGHT.
- There's a liquor store near the Whole Foods on Santa Monica and Fairfax here called Liquor Time Liquor, no joke, and that makes me laugh every time I see it. When it's time for liquor...it's Liquor Time Liquor. I almost say it wrong every time, like a kid first learning how to say Banana. Liquor Time Liquor Time? Banananana?

Substantially Better

I'm getting a raise at work that will increase my bi-weekly paycheck's value by a significant amount. Like actually significant. Not "poor person" significant.

This - along with the title change, which is just gravy on the cake...or something - will be a boon to my sanity, since Not Buying Stuff has been especially difficult lately. It is never more tempting to break budget than when you are shopping for other people (the holidays and everything) and you see something for yourself...everywhere you turn. It's really, ah, crazy-making.
It's also good because I was this close to quitting, for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that they weren't paying me enough to get regularly brow-beaten by my drug-addled boss for mistakes which I almost certainly didn't commit, but we will never know because he never gets around to saying what his problem is before hanging up on my stuttering, confused apologies. "Sorry? Sorry? Sorry?" Half the time I'm kind of contrite, the other half I can't tell what it is he's screeching about.

The bad part is that my shiny, new, stable schedule is officially out the window, as of next week. Where I used to take pride in my Monday-Friday schedule that ended every day at 5 on the dot, just like a real job, now I will be working weekends, and have some weekdays off. FUCK! I will see how much pressure I can put on my boss to make it better, but I've essentially dipped the quill in my own blood...all I have left to do is put pen to evil contract dotted line. I'm a little miffed at this.

But dude, that's a lot of money.

I'm MC Menses and My Flow Be Fresh.

Kyle had the day off today, so after work the two of us went out to dinner at this cute tapas restaurant down the street from where I work. It was DELICIOUS, and guess what? I love sangria. Then we went to CVS and I bought some tampons. Then we went to Whole Foods and I bought some chocolate. Mannnn, this purchasing pattern is starting to take a turn for the worse, isn't it? Sorry guys.

Now Kyle is at a Hives show in Hollywood - I got him a ticket as a belated birthday present. He said that he would rather go alone than not at all (because I wasn't particularly interested), so I sent him alone. This way he can get himself a tour t-shirt, too, so that's nice, right? Yep. I thought so. I'm going to eat chocolate, read blogs, and bleed quietly now. Sorry I can't muster more energy for this post but my body's kind of preoccupied right now with...well, you know.

Things That Annoy Me About Los Angeles

J: "Leo and I have worked together for years. If his assistant comes in here, give him whatever he wants."
Me: "Leo who?"
J: *slowly, as though to a mentally challenged person* "Leonardo DiCaprio?"

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BV: Guess what? They're filming us downstairs as part of a reality show! I'm totally going to come in and they'll have to mic you and you have to sign a release form! Won't that be sooooo fabulous?
Me: ...
BV: I'm going to be famous.

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Random Male: Hey babe, will you get me [whatever]?
Me: *angry stare*
RM: *heavy sigh* ...PLEASE?

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I can't remember

I can't remember whose line this was, but I remember some comic I saw recently saying that car alarms don't serve their purpose at all.

When car alarms were first invented, people didn't hear a car alarm and come running because in those days, people were always setting off their own alarms through their own ineptitude. Car alarms, even from the start, have been a warning not of grand theft auto, but of stupidity. And now, when the excuse "I thought the red button meant unlock!" just won't fly anymore, it is even less likely that we will the Good Samaritan in us rise up and kick some carjacking ass. Now it just makes me - and all of us - want to break out a baseball bat and ruin some motherfucker's day like he JUST RUINED MY CHANCES AT SLEEP, FUCK YOU ASSHOLE I HOPE YOU DIE.

And that is what I'm like when I am tired.

Scheduled Outage

You know what is depressing? Myspace is depressing. Well, the site itself isn't, it's the people it exposes me to that make me want to delete my profile and run screaming to analog, never to return. Is that misanthropic?

Today is the first day I'm having difficulty meeting my goal of a 5 line paragraph. I have sat here staring at that for like 45 minutes and OH HEY LOOK 5 LINES. DONE!

Priya: *scratching head* What did we talk about last night after you came home?
Kyle: Well, I tried talking to you but you weren't having it.
Priya: I seem to remember a conversation. No?
Kyle: Um, I wouldn't call it a "conversation"...we exchanged words.

FLASHBACK TO LAST NIGHT

Kyle: Hey baby! I'm home!
Priya: *slurring* Bananas -
Kyle: Priya?
Priya: ZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

www.NYGirlOfMyDreams.com

This is so fucking cute. This man knows Romance With A Capital R.

Too bad no relationship could ever live up to this, haha.

The Spice Girls' Debut Deux

The other day the Spice Girls debuted their first new music video since 2001 on The Today Show website. Lots of things are wrong with this situation.

1. The Today Show website? WE WANT SOCCER MOMS TO BUY THIS ALBUM! Sorry, Soccer Moms are too busy buying their kids Webkinz. I have never read anything that says that Old People comprise a particularly desirable demographic. They've got the disposable income but...I'm pretty sure that income goes hand in hand with a certain lack of desire to listen to the Spice Girls. I mean, these people have already done stuff with their lives! They've gone to school, and raised kids, gotten haircuts and real jobs. We can no longer pretend that brainless bubblegum pop is going to be anything less than headache-inducing for these people.

2. I can't believe they kept the same name. The Spice Girls? They could have updated it a little. The Spice Women, maybe? Aren't they all well over 30 now? I realize "women" is a scary word for some people, with all those intimidating attached meanings of responsibility, age, social standing, but at a certain point you have to fucking OWN THAT SHIT. Ovary up, ladies! You are Women. Not girls. OH NO DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT LINE, HAVE YOU REACHED SEXUAL MATURITY? Good. "Women" it is.

3. The song itself is a little...lacking in "umph" for my taste. As is the choreography. Don't get me wrong, it sounds great to my untrained ear, but the Girls look old. The whole thing reminds me of when Wilson Phillips filmed their music video standing around/ sitting on the beach because one of them was fat and it would have been a terrible joke to make her dance. Of course, Posh does look like she's going to shatter if she tosses her hair too hard, so maybe high-impact aerobic activity isn't in the cards for the Girls anymore. One shudders to realize that Posh's body has hosted three children. Then again, maybe that's the reason she looks like a husk, and not the fact that she traded her soul for those breasts.

Oh fuck, I wrote this three hours ago! Damn you, Tetris!

The Poll

Oh! I forgot to mention in my post that the Poll of disgustingness is closed.

The reason I made that poll in the first place was because Kyle and I had a disagreement about what was more disgusting, and I decided to give up the question to others to see who was right. In short, Kyle is the perpetrator of the last three items on the list (adjusting junk, burping, etc) and I am the perpetrator of the first. I'm always very vocal about how gross he's being, but the ONE TIME I happened to scratch my butt in his presence he practically fell out of bed in his haste to put distance between us. So I made a poll to prove that he is a pig and I am a sweet little princess. Thank you, readers, for helping me to prove this point. I owe you so much.

Comeonkeepdoingitiveness

Today was busy! Kyle and D went to a bar and watched some football before Kyle had to go to work at 3, and M2 and I went to Chipotle, watched a movie (Dan in Real Life, more on that later), got manicures, and ate ice cream. It was delicious. I haven't had a manicure in like 5 months - I just haven't found a place that looks good near where I work or where I live - and those of you who know me realize that I was feeling pretty shitty for that period every time I looked down and saw how haggard my cuticles were. Because I cannot be trusted to not bite them if they are by any means unruly. Bah. But all that is behind us now. Thank god.

I wanted to see Dan in Real Life last weekend when I had a day off with Kyle, but he nixed it in favor of seeing Gone Baby Gone. I'm glad he did because he would not have liked this movie. It was kind of a "heartwarming" movie, which is a snotty way of saying that there was not a whole lot of substance there. Ah well. Sometimes you just gotta see a movie about a lovably awkward guy trying to find love amongst all the craziness that is family. Emily Blunt is in it, and she's, like, retarded cute as always. It's almost annoying.

Remind me to talk about how fed up I am with the standard of feminine beauty in the media, will you? I'm sick and SO tired of everyone walking around looking like blow-up dolls, while their men are perfectly happy looking like people who would purchase blow-up dolls (Christina and Mr. Aguilera, I am looking at you and shaking my head slowly). I prefer my humans to look like humans. Is that so wrong? That means thin lips for some people, and saggy boobs for others (not even! have you seen what science has done with bras lately?), and weird noses and stumpy eyelashes. But that is okay with me, because the people who are less than dead sexy will have to compensate somehow, and at least some of those will do it by reading or having fun opinions or something. And the world will be a better place. I don't see why this is so hard. It would probably end Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It would probably save Darfur and free Tibet and end global warming.

Okay probably not, but I would be a little more sane...that's cool, right?

CAVEAT: I am by no means decrying the following practices:
- leg/face/underarm shaving
- ahem, basic housekeeping in the downstairs
- haircuts
- teeth bleaching
- manicures/ pedicures
- makeup
- braces/ retainers
- breast augmentation TO COUNTERACT THE COSMETIC EFFECTS OF MASTECTOMIES.

Practices I am Decrying:
- permanent makeup (eyeliner, lipstick, etc)
- eyelash extensions
- anal bleaching
- tummy tucks/ rhinoplasty/ breast augmentation (for the purposes of ego placation)/ cheekbone/chin/butt/calf implants

You see where I'm going with this. Maybe I should just make a rule about putting inflatable shit under your skin or anything that costs more than $3000 and leave it at that.

Celebrity sighting for the day: Weird Al Yankovic at Chipotle, looking totally gross. That is a man with an ENORMOUS HEAD. Like, physically. I don't know about his ego, but seriously, his head was huge. It was at least seven burritos wide and fourteen burritos tall. That man must have extraordinary neck muscles. Maybe it was just his ridiculous hair. Do you think he ever gets tired of being himself? I wonder if - okay, does Carrot Top realize that he looks like a TOTAL DOUCHE? Okay. I have some laundry in the wash and it's done now. I gotta go put it in the dryer. Sigh.

Sticktuitiveness

I'm here for day three of NaBloPoMo. Already I've read dozens of people's contributions to the challenge and almost all of them express doubt that they'll finish the month out, or fear at "having to do it again" from the veterans. It sounds like detention - you basically signed up for it by not wearing your shirt tucked in or whatever, and you dread it like the plague, but then it turns out to not be that bad and you come out on the other end a better person for your experiences. Like those wacky youngsters in The Breakfast Club! Why did they call themselves that anyway? 'Cause they're...wacky! Anyway, this post is going to be long and kind of disjointed, because I wrote it over the course of like four hours.

I've been watching Kyle's Family Guy Season 5 DVDs. They're funny, but in kind of a predictable way. Like the Onion. I think they're both right on the money a lot of the time, but how many times can you say "President Bush has done a terrible job and this country would be better served by a child who doesn't even know how to spell the word 'President'" without actually saying...oh.

Oh! Celebrity sighting today! I was walking away from the Whole Foods where Kyle works and as I passed the Starbucks I saw Casey Affleck drive up on the sidewalk on his motorcycle. A blonde girl jumped off the back, and she walked into the store, he said, "remember, I want it ICED."
I'm going to let that little vignette speak for itself.

I think I need to re-learn how to use the internet. Half the time I don't find what I google for, and that is just not right. Something is wrong with the way I'm searching. I just recently learned the importance of the quotation mark, so I'm obviously way behind the times. What I'm trying to do is find a belt that looks like this:



Without costing three hundred dollars. Can it be done? The thing I like is the black stretchy, and the part where there's a metallic clasp in the middle. Here is a close-up.



Maybe I'm just not getting it. I'm probably not getting it. Okay, fine, I don't get it. I'm 21 and I feel like one of those old fogeys shaking their fists impotently at the television after being schooled for the four-hundredth time on how to use the remote. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT? Webkinz...I've heard of that, it's like a Tamagotchi, right?

In my recent tradition of self-betterment, I have decided to, if not directly modify my eating habits, at least be more aware of what I eat. I see this as the first step to altering what I eat to include more healthy things and exclude more empty calories. I am not going to turn into one of those sugarless/fat-free joyless eaters-for-the-sake-of-continuing-this-pathetic-existence
but-admit-it-I-look-totally-fucking-fabulous girls, but I do know that I occasionally eat because I am bored. And that is just pointless, people.
So, November 1st was my first day of putting this plan into action and so far I have: eaten at Chipotle (which: fuck it, I don't feel bad about this because it's all organic or whatever, and let's be reasonable, I will never ever quit Chipotle as long as I live - I will step over your choking thrashing body to get to one of those delicious burritos), McDonald's, and cooked a batch of brownies. Every day I wake up and go, "today is the day! a fresh slate! new beginnings, etc" and then the next thing I know I'm starving so I grab the first tasty thing available without even thinking. Interestingly enough, I have not yet been hungry enough to make carrot sticks look good. The point is that even beginning to think about what I'm eating is a learning process in and of itself. God, I'm lazy. I don't even have to do anything hard like get up and exercise. All I have to do is think and I can't even do that. Story of my life.

Update on roach situation: The guy came and sprayed last week, and at first we didn't seem to see a huge change in roach activity (still running around in the daylight hours, appearing in the corners with cockroach delight all over their cockroach faces every time a single crumb of food came out of a ziploc bag or the fridge) but now that I think about it, they have made themselves scarce in the last two days. This could, of course, also be due to the sharp drop in outside temperature. Maybe they froze to death. Whatever the cause, hopefully they're all dead and rotting in hell like they deserve. The cockroaches and the bedbugs (or so I hear). I hope it's nice and motherfucking toasty down there, and I hope that all there is to eat is other cockroaches.
- Interesting fact: Cockroaches are cannibalistic. Did you know this? Apparently it was possible for them to get more repugnant.
I'm still getting that boric acid, though. At some point.

Have you ever been to this website, Things My Boyfriend Says? Go there. Go there. Go there now! Go there. Okay, so, it's basically a website of this girl's boyfriend that lists all the funny things he's said. It's very inspiring if you have a funny boyfriend of your own, which I do. I was going to finish this entry with a funny Kyle quote, but I can't think of anything succinct, so here's an amusing exchange between the two of us and a customer at Whole Foods.

*I walk up to the counter, where Kyle and Female Customer with Interesting Hair are in conversation about...meat, I guess*

Female Customer with Interesting Hair: I like your purse!
Me: Thanks! My boyfriend hates it. He says it's silly.
Kyle: I do not.
Me: He does! He makes fun of me for it.
FCwIH: That's terrible. We should punish him. (At this point she hasn't yet gotten that Kyle is the boyfriend I'm talking about)
Me: You go first.
FCwIH: ...?
Kyle: I'm the boyfriend.
FCwIH: ...!?! SHE'S your girlfriend?
Kyle: I know, how did it happen?
Me: I certainly don't remember.
Kyle: Wha -
FCwIH: He's a very nice guy!
Me: At least someone thinks so. So far it's just you and his mom.
FCwIH *concluding business*: You guys have a great day. It was nice to meet you.
Me: Likewise!

*FCwIH walks away*

Kyle: I love you...
Me: Okay.

Okay y'all

After about an hour of strenuously trying to figure out how to make a banner link back to the official NaBloPoMo website all on my lonesome, I think I'm going to have to take a rest for tonight and get back on it tomorrow at some point. My brain hurts. Yay weekends.

Happy November

Hey Guys.

How's it going? Yeah. How was your Halloween? Mine was about a 6 out of a possible 10...I didn't stay out very late because I had to get up for work the next day, but I did wear a costume. I was a bandit. I had a bandanna, and a cape, and a sword. Scary! Kyle was a blood-soaked butcher man. Terrifying! We went to see our friend D's "improvisational horror show" at the I.O. West. It was a new concept to us, but we loved it. M2, D's wife, was a sexy schoolgirl, which I jokingly deemed gauche, since she teaches math to 6th graders for a living.

Yesterday I forgot to do "rabbit rabbit", as usual. Do you know what this is? I just found out about it; apparently there is some belief that if the first words out of your mouth on the morning of the first of every month are "rabbit rabbit", you will have good luck. I'm not interested so much in the good luck aspect of this practice as I am in the discipline of remembering to do it in the first place. I'm interested in getting more of that. Discipline, that is. I'm thinking very seriously about making the transition to an all-raw food diet. Of course, that would mean no more Indian food, no more Chipotle, and that is essentially the one reason I haven't just done it already. It's not like I cook or anything. I can barely be bothered to cut up a mango for myself and eat it. More on this as I think about it and come to some conclusion on the topic.

Have you guys voted on my poll? It's only open for a couple more days...and there are only 3 votes, one of which is mine! So vote. Dammit.

I'm reading about Layer Tennis now, which is some kind of real-time designing game done in Photoshop... or Illustrator? There's lots of discussion about vectors and layers and brushes and I don't really understand what's going on, but it's very intriguing nonetheless. The site can be found here, and you can click on some examples to see how one picture can morph at the hands of two different people. It's very cool, even to a layperson.


I forgot to mention this yesterday and during all of October, but this year I am taking part in NaBloPoMo! That's short for National Blog Posting Month. It's basically a...maybe it's a meme?...anyway, billions and trillions of writers get on their blogs and pledge to write a blog post every day for all of November. It's essentially supposed to be some kind of trial by fire, made to show you that it really can be done! I'm going to put up badges and all that fun stuff as soon as I post this. Yesterday's posts were kind of cheating, but today and all the rest of November I plan to at least write a five-lined paragraph. That is my goal. I'm doing this because I've been slacking on writing anything of substance recently, and since it's not due to a lack of inspiration so much as an excess of laziness, I plan to abolish the habit by forcefully driving it out of my system with a series of goals and accomplishments, the first of which will be the successful completion of this meme thingie, NaBloPoMo. Let the posting begin!

Unconventional

"Unconventionally beautiful" is a very polite way of saying that she is
ugly.

Hilarity on The Job

B: You look like Amanda Bynes.
Amanda Bynes: ...