(no subject)
You: So, K, what's up with the sitcom that is your life? I TIVOed you, but it did that thing where it randomly doesn't record something.
Me: I'm so glad you tuned in!
Last night we went to a party at our friend's restaurant. Ooh la la, you say, what a hard life! I never claimed to live in Rwanda.
Anyway [setting: INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR OF A MEXICAN RESTAURANT]: I'm sort of distracted because yesterday was one of those weird days where you think "I'm going to do X today!" and you're all serious about this plan to get X done, and you have a schedule and maybe you even write it DOWN somewhere so it's Official and yet you never do X. That was my day yesterday. I had plans to do this very important work stuff (and here please read that as a joke because NOTHING I do for work is important to anyone at all but my boss) and didn't.
Wait, back up. This is one of those time jumping episodes.
[INTERIOR CAR: I'm driving] California passed this law called "Hands Free California Because You Dickheads Can't Drive To Begin With So Get Off the Fucking Phone!" I paraphrase. So you're not supposed to drive and talk on your phone anymore. Can I use a Bluetooth? Are you fucking joking? I'm driving down Melrose looking for this piercing joint because my piercing fell out. Again. I thought I was going to work all day, but then lo and behold my damned piercing falls out and I'm like FUCK! and have to find a place open on Sunday that doesn't seem too shady. In case you're unfamiliar with the concept: tattoo parlors and piercing places are usually effin' shady. They didn't make that up on tv. I find a place that looks reasonable, call, and the piercer's female! Ok, now, listen, I'm going to lay some facts down on you: if you want to get pierced find a place with a female piercer--nine out of ten she's going to be damned good at her job and you won't feel revolted when you walk out of the place. Anyway, so here I am looking for this place and when I start getting the distinct impression I've missed it I realize I left my moleskin at home. Goddamn it! No map, can't make a call. Well might as well just crash my car for fun. That's not what I do. Instead I drive ALL THE WAY to Santa Monica Blvd and pull over to make my call like a law abiding citizen (which very much am not).
I get more specific directions and the piercer has a very amused vibe (I can be charming) and I think to myself "please let her be a hot lesbian."
Guess what? Yeah. That part of my story is the good part.
I drive back up Melrose and get lost AGAIN. This time, though, I have a plan! I just park. I park and get out of the car and WALK up Melrose figuring the span between La Brea and Fairfax isn't shit for me to walk--but I'm on a schedule. The piercer's going on lunch in less than twenty minutes. ARG. Yesterday was one of those days that LA pulls on you where you're sitting in the house thinking "hm, it's a pleasant California day!" and you get outside and the sun punches you in the face. I wear black all that time (you're shocked, please try to recover), and yesterday was no exception. I was so sweaty when I got into the piercing place that the hot lesbian piercer said "wow you're sweaty!" Yes, yes I was!
I had irritated my piercing so badly with my botched attempts to get my jewelry back in that I had to have the long post reinserted. However, this was not so horrible (even though it looks dumb).
Hot lesbian: Can I have your number?
Me: I don't know it.
Hot lesbian: [laughs] I'm not surprised, and that makes me want it more.
Me: Oh, I'll be back when I need the other jewelry inserted.
Inserted! I'm a comedy genius!
I also procured the Joss run of "Runaways" and several one inch pins on the way home (including one for The Descendants one of my all time fave bands. Yay!). Not a bad afternoon, even if I should have been surgically attached to my computer NOT writing fucking vampire fic.
[INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR OF MEXICAN RESTAURANT]: I'm sort of worn out from writing so much. Writing sometimes makes me not very chatty or interested in much because I get to a place where I just have nothing. However, there's an open bar. Yes, like I said: not Rwanda. My friends and I are drinking tequila gimlets and kicking it. I'm kind of bored. That's the level of asshole I am. This has nothing to do with my amazing awesome friends and has everything to do with walking around Melrose in all black at the height of the heat and that motherfucking vampire fic. Lo, I go out to smoke.
I'm outside smoking talking to a friend when something odd happens--I end up no longer talking to this friend and end up talking to HIS FRIENDS who all seem pretty alright. One of them even seems very gay. I'm down. I'm quite happy to talk to a gay dude in a band (they were all band dudes). We're chit chatting for a while and we have like EVERYTHING in common. I am not exaggerating. He's an intellectual (college prof!), funny, we like the same music (my real bands, not MCR, but now I regret not saying I love Gerard Way and want to marry him...oh wait, no), and so on and on. He wants to send me his cds. Awesome! We make plans to hang out later in the week. I give him my phone number which Jenn told me and I wrote down in my moleskin.
HE'S NOT GAY. Oh god! What? How can he not be gay, he did his dissertation on Virginia Woolf!
You cannot be a straight man and write your dissertation on Virginia Woolf! That's like not even mildly gay, that's fucking never touched a vag even in sexual confusion gay.
Maybe I accidentally made a date with a MAN? I need a nanny. Do you want to be my nanny /creepy Dr. Who gas mask kid voice.
What I want you to realize is that everything in this post is completely factual AND not even the most bullshit thing I did last week.
*
Rachel just told me someone on bandflesh is hating one me. Hi, bandflesh hater! Do you see what my real life if like? I'm sorry you're so bored, get out of the house, emo kid.
Me: I'm so glad you tuned in!
Last night we went to a party at our friend's restaurant. Ooh la la, you say, what a hard life! I never claimed to live in Rwanda.
Anyway [setting: INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR OF A MEXICAN RESTAURANT]: I'm sort of distracted because yesterday was one of those weird days where you think "I'm going to do X today!" and you're all serious about this plan to get X done, and you have a schedule and maybe you even write it DOWN somewhere so it's Official and yet you never do X. That was my day yesterday. I had plans to do this very important work stuff (and here please read that as a joke because NOTHING I do for work is important to anyone at all but my boss) and didn't.
Wait, back up. This is one of those time jumping episodes.
[INTERIOR CAR: I'm driving] California passed this law called "Hands Free California Because You Dickheads Can't Drive To Begin With So Get Off the Fucking Phone!" I paraphrase. So you're not supposed to drive and talk on your phone anymore. Can I use a Bluetooth? Are you fucking joking? I'm driving down Melrose looking for this piercing joint because my piercing fell out. Again. I thought I was going to work all day, but then lo and behold my damned piercing falls out and I'm like FUCK! and have to find a place open on Sunday that doesn't seem too shady. In case you're unfamiliar with the concept: tattoo parlors and piercing places are usually effin' shady. They didn't make that up on tv. I find a place that looks reasonable, call, and the piercer's female! Ok, now, listen, I'm going to lay some facts down on you: if you want to get pierced find a place with a female piercer--nine out of ten she's going to be damned good at her job and you won't feel revolted when you walk out of the place. Anyway, so here I am looking for this place and when I start getting the distinct impression I've missed it I realize I left my moleskin at home. Goddamn it! No map, can't make a call. Well might as well just crash my car for fun. That's not what I do. Instead I drive ALL THE WAY to Santa Monica Blvd and pull over to make my call like a law abiding citizen (which very much am not).
I get more specific directions and the piercer has a very amused vibe (I can be charming) and I think to myself "please let her be a hot lesbian."
Guess what? Yeah. That part of my story is the good part.
I drive back up Melrose and get lost AGAIN. This time, though, I have a plan! I just park. I park and get out of the car and WALK up Melrose figuring the span between La Brea and Fairfax isn't shit for me to walk--but I'm on a schedule. The piercer's going on lunch in less than twenty minutes. ARG. Yesterday was one of those days that LA pulls on you where you're sitting in the house thinking "hm, it's a pleasant California day!" and you get outside and the sun punches you in the face. I wear black all that time (you're shocked, please try to recover), and yesterday was no exception. I was so sweaty when I got into the piercing place that the hot lesbian piercer said "wow you're sweaty!" Yes, yes I was!
I had irritated my piercing so badly with my botched attempts to get my jewelry back in that I had to have the long post reinserted. However, this was not so horrible (even though it looks dumb).
Hot lesbian: Can I have your number?
Me: I don't know it.
Hot lesbian: [laughs] I'm not surprised, and that makes me want it more.
Me: Oh, I'll be back when I need the other jewelry inserted.
Inserted! I'm a comedy genius!
I also procured the Joss run of "Runaways" and several one inch pins on the way home (including one for The Descendants one of my all time fave bands. Yay!). Not a bad afternoon, even if I should have been surgically attached to my computer NOT writing fucking vampire fic.
[INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR OF MEXICAN RESTAURANT]: I'm sort of worn out from writing so much. Writing sometimes makes me not very chatty or interested in much because I get to a place where I just have nothing. However, there's an open bar. Yes, like I said: not Rwanda. My friends and I are drinking tequila gimlets and kicking it. I'm kind of bored. That's the level of asshole I am. This has nothing to do with my amazing awesome friends and has everything to do with walking around Melrose in all black at the height of the heat and that motherfucking vampire fic. Lo, I go out to smoke.
I'm outside smoking talking to a friend when something odd happens--I end up no longer talking to this friend and end up talking to HIS FRIENDS who all seem pretty alright. One of them even seems very gay. I'm down. I'm quite happy to talk to a gay dude in a band (they were all band dudes). We're chit chatting for a while and we have like EVERYTHING in common. I am not exaggerating. He's an intellectual (college prof!), funny, we like the same music (my real bands, not MCR, but now I regret not saying I love Gerard Way and want to marry him...oh wait, no), and so on and on. He wants to send me his cds. Awesome! We make plans to hang out later in the week. I give him my phone number which Jenn told me and I wrote down in my moleskin.
HE'S NOT GAY. Oh god! What? How can he not be gay, he did his dissertation on Virginia Woolf!
You cannot be a straight man and write your dissertation on Virginia Woolf! That's like not even mildly gay, that's fucking never touched a vag even in sexual confusion gay.
Maybe I accidentally made a date with a MAN? I need a nanny. Do you want to be my nanny /creepy Dr. Who gas mask kid voice.
What I want you to realize is that everything in this post is completely factual AND not even the most bullshit thing I did last week.
*
Rachel just told me someone on bandflesh is hating one me. Hi, bandflesh hater! Do you see what my real life if like? I'm sorry you're so bored, get out of the house, emo kid.
