April 2002 Archive

Total Bummer
They are filming the show about Virginity this Saturday and I have to be up here. Otherwise, it was pretty much a sure thing.

Alas, my brief, near brush with fame.

… … … hmmmm … … …
I think it’s now safe for me to go out and get me some.

To no one in particular. Honest. (cough cough cough)
Psssst.
You need a new haircut.

The Born Again Virgin strikes again < --- maybe (also known as...non booty may just yet pay off)
— ******* < ***********@*******> wrote:
I’m a producer with a new show for the Discovery Channel and I came across your article on-line. We are doing a show on “Virginity” and I think you would be a great guest. What city and state do you live in?

___________________
My response:

******,
I live in ******, California (next door to San Francisco) and would be really interested in learning
more about your show and what you’re working on.Where are you located?

You can reach me on my cel phone at: ****-****-*****
I look forward to speaking with you.

MJ < --- The born again virgin via iistix.com (going on 2.5 years of celibacy…woah)
http://www.iistix.com/_iieight/bornagain.html

Ok… when did Rocks Scissors Paper become the grounding for big parenting decisions?

Etta James – Someone to Watch Over Me

I love that Etta sounds like a woman, full bodied and booty swaying in smoky vocal delight in this song.
She’s not a little girl who can’t take care of herself who needs a big testosterone he-man to care for her.
No, she’s a woman. All woman. 100 % baby oh yeah woman.

Her heart’s got scars. Her knuckles are rough. Her hands are tough. Her eyes can take down Mike Tyson with a glare. But she’s all woman and she’s just looking for someone who’ s man enough to be good to her in a way that lets her finally let up. That lets her finally release the tension of her taut existence. That lets her close her eyes and sigh and lean her head against the crook between neck and collar bone of a good man.

Damn, that’s good music.

Poetica Spontenaium
Delight is turning your heavy head
from the dark side of the too wide bed

to see the careful thieving of dawn creeping and breaking
through verdant leaves and blinds left open.

watching tiny wrens toddle through the morning air
with nervous cheeps and awkward fumbling

Sniffing deep, from the belly, the hope of a new morning
Toes still curled in a delicious pocket of cozy,

The sky the only bearer of possible blues
Turning off the alarm clock. No buzz. No snooze.

Shopping Binge

After being under employed for nearly a year.
After scrapping with odd jobs including being a receptionist at a hair salon, an extra in the matrix, pr consulting, misc free lance writing and..
After suffering through Santa Pimping.
After eating too much ramen.
After dating for sushi.
After feeing excessively in low esteem for extended durations.
After being annoyed with my father’s ability to remember my upcoming birthday *now* as opposed to 10 or 5 years ago.
After being well behaved and doing my taxes early this year.
After finally becoming employed again and resetting my body clock by 5 hours.
After grinning at my upcoming tax return. (I was *so* poor, I dropped a tax bracket…maybe two)
After purchasing a shredder to protect my privacy further from potential fraud & identity theft.
After getting paid back by friends for expenses from my Texas sojourn.
And before I got my first pay check (which actually happened today)
I spoiled myself silly with a vent of online shopping (with the one credit card I have that didn’t have to be replaced).

Macys: Boot cut blue jeans on sale and purple velvet DKNY flare jeans.(They both make my ass look pretty good)
GoJane: Booty Shirts. Cheap & Simple. (Practically disposable, they’re so cheap)
Amazon: Cds, shredder, and a gift for a friend. (Music for the soul, peace of mind for me, and love, always good to share)
Old Navy: Shirts, Pants, Business sort of Khakis. (Thrifty indulgence)
Ann Taylor: Professional blousie (Um…serious like, for work… really)

Shame on me.
I made up for a whole year of not shopping for myself in the past weekend. Now I have to go buy shoes. (But not until after I pay my cel phone bill and do major tuneup on my car)

Weeee.

Sometimes I amaze myself.
I fixed my permalinks. Woot.

And instead of dorking out via im or blogging or fixing this damn site, I’m going to curl up with a book and giggle at the events of the day.
Boy, I could share it with you, but some secrets a girl has to keep to herself.
Wooooooo, nelly.

My friend Lou aka the BOC (bone of contention) is a kettle of cheese. But a cute one at that. Don’t *you* think? (go vote for him)

I dig so well that there are some very marvy men friends that I have (and straight ones at that). It just wounds me to the marrow that we either don’t have chemistry or there is some sort of code that keeps me from madly ravishing them with the wee fuzzy pods of my heart. I’m just excessivly prudent that way. But the rules keep me out of trouble & keep me out of drama. Drama uses too much energy & emotional bandwidth.

My rules?

The TOOB Rule.You don’t touch the target of other buddies.

Statute of Limitations Rule. You don’t touch the exes of your buddies.

The Professional Survival Rule.You don’t touch the co-workers. Unless they’re your boss and single and going to definitely marry you and are extremely wealthy so you can retire to your own private island with a slew of gorgeous and well oiled cabana boys if it doesn’t, ya know, work out.

The Roommate Rule. If you like where you live and if you’re not confident it’s *it* you don’t date your roommate and you definitley don’t date anyone your roommate has. Or wants to. Lest you trully desire to have dog shit rubbed into your car floormats. (Which is what happened to me a year and a half ago when the ex-roommate when psycho because she *thought* I was flirting with the boy now titled Bone of Contention… though I wasn’t flirting with him while she and I were living togehter…and only kissed him a few delectable times nearly six months afterwards)

Friends Forever Versus a Dallying Fuck Rule.
Because friendships, the good ones, are precious to find and heavens knows you don’t want to mess up the kindness, emotional reliance, and intimacy that you have with a good guy friends for years, only to be *weird* and distant after you’ve both had two, three, or maybe thirteen too many mojitos.

By now, you know that I am highly by nature the following things: Vain, Snarky, Selfish, and Lazy.
Lazy wins hands down in nearly all cases.No drama, no energy spent. Yay.

I was talking with someone earlier today about how it’s near to impossible to be both a shameless romantic and a person who likes to live in a state of such unconditional honesty so as to be transparent.

If I’m prudent, I guage how far and wide I’ll let my heart fly. If I’m attracted to someone, it’s written all over my face. If I’m hopeful, I’ll turn into the long lost Korean niece of the Larry, Curly, Moe & dear sweet Shemp. None of these characteristics are particularly coy and charming when trying to get the right guy to woo me.

I’ve been guilty of passing up great opportunities with marvelous treats of men friends who have taken the leap to try & bridge that precarious friend–>lover gap.

I’ve teetered and stumbled over that navigation to stay friends and lost touch with a few dear gentlemen.

I’ve actually said to someone “Hey, so… um… you going to kiss me or what?”.

I’ve been guilty of spilling my water ridiculously all over myself at dinner in nervous spasmatics.

Oy.
*hands in face*

PS.

This doesn’t make me an A-lister does it? And bejebus, I barely attended the panels.
Pbbbbt. Next year, I plan to finance my trip by having cases of chilled beer for snarking after hours at the Omni. Count on it.

Gotcha.

While #1-#3 were true in last night’s post, 4-6 were fabrications from my warped mind. Please please please don’t hate me. Heaven knows I love you. *smooch* But still, a good gotcha? It’s just my good writing skills which got you. And also apparently got a few other people who called me all lovingly concerned today. I really dig that you care. And I know it was a bit evil of me, but I wasn’t creative enough to do anything else as a 4.1 prank. Anyways, Karma’s already owned my ass this past week with the whole credit debacle, right? Right?
*tee hee*

Them good writing skills will now be put heavily to work as I have two articles in queue to write for BananaMag and a shot at *possibly* having my own column with KoreAM. (unless KoreAm thing was also an april fools day joke on me…but that’d suck) Bomb diggidy doo wop.
Love you!

*really* please don’t hate me.

*giggle snort*

There are a number of disturbing coincidences trending from the last week.

#1. Mild stalker interactions via AIM & email.

#2. Credit card # is thefted

#3. Someone else steals my mail and in that batch of mail, steals yet another credit card # and has my payment check with my signature on it.

#4. I leave the house today at 4 PM to go grocery shopping. A car was there outside my house that I didn’t recognize. A brief shadow of movement within it.

#5. At 7 PM today, I received a call from a friend of mine who asks why I rushed off from SF church in such a rush after Easter service that we couldn’t talk.I didn’t go to the SF church for easter service. I was in Berkeley. She was mistaken, I told her. “Oh no, sweetie! There’s no one else I know who wears a jean jacket inside a leather one except you! I *knew* it was you!”

#6. At 9 PM tonight, I went to go visit with a friend of mine for a beer and to catch up as we’ve not seen each other since I stopped working at the salon. Was it just my imagination or did my car smell like someone else has been in it? Plus, I was *out* of cigarrettes this morning. I didn’t replace them. There was half a pack left in the side door pocket. My brand, sure, but still, curious.

Something *very* not right is going down. I’ve alerted my roommate Jon and a few other friends that I’ve talked to that are close to me, but I’m just way freaked out right now. Not going to sleep well for a while and I’m pulling down the shades. Gnight.