{And nothing else compares...}

{Beeva feeva}
13 September 2003 @ 2:44 AM

BGM: "Headstrong" by Trapt
Wanting: the money I paid for the movie back... oh wait I didn't pay for it..! Still, I want it back!
Wearing: sea green ON polo-style shirt, navy blue FTL boxer-briefs

So as of this being typed in the following has transpired: The Man in Black: Johnny Cash has died, John "Jack Tripper" Ritter has died, and Ruben has somehow managed to get a way random cut on his arm.

Before I explain the latter, a moment of silence for the fateful departed.

*Silence for a few minutes*

Anyway, tonight Ruben, Paul (Ruben's current; whose name I couldn't remember), Fox, Bryce, Fiona and I took in a movie. The film of choice? Cabin Fever. Let me just say this about it...

Hmm... um... no... Well, let me just use Fox's term: it exists. And now, another moment of silence.

*Silence for another minute, sound of toilet flush comes from the bathroom*

Yeah it was freaky weird.

Anyway we get back in and as I sign online to post this update, Ruben calls me and tells me that he's bleeding. No, it's not his time of the month. He's talking to me in a silenced-not-really-whispering-but-still-quiet-which-I-assume-that-he-didn't-want-his-voice-to-carry-since-everyone-else-in-his-house-is-probably-asleep-now voice, so it was hard to understand him. The gist of it (from what I could understand, anyway) was that he was bleeding from this mysterious cut he got on his arm. Apparently he's okay (it wasn't self-inflicted or it wasn't a serious accident), but he just felt the need to call me and let me know that, especially given the movie earlier (which I will not go into).

So, random night? Yes. Going to sleep now? Yes, again. Two in a row! WestsIDE!!!

~A (Conclusions manifest, your first impressions got to be your very best)

{Ruben's 26th}
12 September 2003 @ 2:13 AM

BGM: "Screaming Infidelities" by Dashboard Confessional
Wanting: more nights like these
Wearing: blue ON ringer, aqua FTL boxer-briefs

We didn't kidnap him, we didn't tie him up, we didn't stap him in a porn booth blindfolded, but we still managed to make Ruben's 26th birthday memorable. What did we do? What DIDN'T we do? Where did we take him? When am I going to get to it if I'm going to keep your attention? Glad you asked.

It's really long and uneventful leading up to it and though I would normally go into superfluous amounts of detail in describing it, I'm so incredibly tired that I'll just do a glorified summary.

After we decided on the evening's plan, we put it into action. The players of the night were Fox, Dorian, Bryce, Fiona (Fox's friend) and I. To achieve what we wanted to, we had to go to Taco Hell. A few of us ate (those who had cash, stupid non-debit restaurant) and we bought some necessities. Dorian purchased some Nachos for the plan.

We then split up and went to meet Rubes at the park. I dropped Dorian off and jetted off to Barnes and Noble to go get an extremely last-minute gift... and some extremely last-minute Vanilla Soy Latte. I was so stuck as to what to get Ruben, so as I was about to call it quits, I headed for the caf�, and found the perfect book for him; a stress-relief book for busy people! I was happy with myself for that.

Back at the park, I noticed that no one was there. I did, however see a cop car with it's searchlight goin'. I decided that lest consent to cavity search just by BEING at the park after hours, I should just bolt. So I called Dor and asked where they went. New destination: the Broadway Caf� (formerly the 5 and Diner).

Once we regrouped at the restaurant parking lot, we got the instruments together. Ruben arrived with his current (I forget his name), Fox and Fiona kept them entertained while Bryce, Dorian and I got the stuff together. Basically we decided to give Ruben an (to paraphrase Dorian's term:) as-authentic-as-he-is-Mexican-birthday-cake. Yes, we gave him the burrito and nachos with the numeral candles in it. It was ingenious. He loved it. Fun was had. We went into the diner, had some drinks, terrorized the waitress and anyone within earshot by Fox doing his Mormon Tabernacle Choir's version of the greatest hits of Hip Hop.

Wow... only 30 minutes to type all this. A personal best.

PS: Dude, everyone online is asleep! What the funk is that?

~A (And as for me I wish that I was anywhere, with anyone, making out)

{*Hiss*}
11 September 2003 @ 5:59 PM

BGM: various songs from Robbie William's "Sing When You're Winning"
Wanting: vindication
Wearing: blue ON ringer, grey ON cargo pants

***WARNING: SERIOUS BITTERNESS AHEAD***

Yes, note the date. I'm not going to say anything. Frankly, the way this country's behaved (to say nothing of the government) as a whole since the incident has not endeared me to speak. I wasn't there, no one I knew died, I have no personal beef with anyone from the Middle East. Okay, so maybe I did say something, but that's going to be the extent of it.

Now onto business...

Today I unleased my venomous sarcasm. Not too many people know this, at least not that I know if (and everyone DOES know I have a tendency for obliviousness), but underneath my double-exterior of sunshine, lollipops and rainbows and rain, poison and death lies an evil, vindictive beeotch that can make Daria seem more like Quinn. Normally, I don't feel the overwhelming desire to hiss at people for no apparent reason (I have my colorful group of friends to do that *I love you all!*), but when backed into a corner, I unleash that which would make millions of Kellis (all spelled with an innumberable amount of I's) cower and squeal in terror. I guess you can call it my defense mechanism.

Anyway, I utilized Se�ora Sarcazma (my name for it unless I think of something better) today when I magically got chastened again for my productivity at work. And let me just go off on a(nother) tanget here really quick and say that if these darn productivity things are going to be a regular occurence, might as well have some tea and cookies during the meeting. If we're going to discuss how much I'm NOT dedicated to Info, the least they can do is put up a pretense of a vaguely English pleasant ambiance. But I digress, back to the reaming. So Linda, who was sitting across from me at the table was doing her best to make me feel like the bad guy (which I probably am, I'm not going argue that point) in her normal rose-tinted glasses saccharine sort of way. John is sitting to my right, being mostly quiet, but feeling my pain. They both let out a laugh whenever I said something sarcastic. I think the conversation went something like this (all what I remember):

{Enter Linda, John, and I into a conference room, we all sit}
Linda (being as nice as she can, given the matter at hand): Now's the time that I bet you've been waiting for.
Me: Oh yeah, the highlight of my day
{Linda and John laugh}
Linda: (mentions something about my productivity)
Me: (sarcastic comment)
{Linda and John laugh again}
Linda: (says something about my choice of humor), and you're too young to feel like that.
Me: Eh. I works for me.
{Some other things are said}
Linda: You should be a comedian.
Me: Nah, I hate people.
{John and Linda laugh, albeit uncomfortably}
Me: Present company excluded, of course (lie).
Linda (still laughing): Of course.

And it kinda goes on from there. I really wish I would've remembered more of it; I felt so strong and somewhat vindicated by it. Like it helped me soften a potentially harder blow. It was also hella funny (if you can tell from how they both laughed at just about every comment I said). And you know what? Up until that moment (this happened when I was less than half an hour away from the end of my shift), my day had been a complete lost cause. Especially since I had to cancel and reschedule a much-needed dentist appointment because the asstastic higher-ups didn't approve my day off. After that though, I felt so *does cheesy arm flexing motion*, you know what I mean? It felt so good.

And now for something completely out of left field (as if this wasn't enough)...

Now I know why I hate Tucson traffic so much... as if I really needed a first-hand reminder. Yes, what follows is the account of my first-ever rear-end collision (and I don't mean sexually).

Last night, I was cruising down to Zia Records because I suddenly felt like I need to have a Dashboard Confessional CD in my collection. I was heading west down Speedway just sorta jamming out to a CD in the stereo and switching between the radio stations. I was in the left lane approaching the light at Alvernon that had just turned green. The cars, which had been stopped, were moving again and I glanced at my left as I was changing the station and came across The Police's "I'll Be Watching You" (a good song for me anyway). I had utilized my little internal timer thing that I use to determine how much I can slow down before hitting the gas again. Well, at that point, I looked forward again, the lane wasn't moving despite the green because there was some ass-f*ck at the beginning of the lane trying to make a left turn, holding up traffic and there was a gold Mustang convertible not 10 feet in front of me and closing. My eyes grew wide as I quickly moved my right hand up from my stereo and positioned both of them at 12 o'clock on the steering wheel, slammed both feet on the brakes and pushed my back up has hard as I could to the seat. With a short screech of my tires, I stopped, but was aided more by the unmoving Mustang in front of me. *CRASH* I was horrified. Thankfully we were all unharmed. I took that moment and got out of the car to assess the damage. There was an older couple in their 50s in the Mustang. They got out of their car and came around the back. I had my hand up to my mouth in the classic "shocked" expression and every word thereafter out of my mouth was a profuse apology. The man (the driver) looked at the rear of his car, and at the front of mine. He wasn't too pleased, but there was really no damage, not even and indent. His wife, was somewhat upset because her shoe had broken (she was wearing flip-flops). The man told me that it was more the fault of that horse rapist trying to make an illegal left. He seemed to understand my sincerity and let me know that since no damage was done, that I shouldn't worry about it. We got back in our cars and got on with it. I still felt so incredibly horrendous. The light at that point was at red. While we were waiting for our green, some retard at the other end of the intersection in a new white Impala made a U-turn while still at red. At the very least he/she was in the correct lane.

Anyway, once I got to Zia to I purchase my crybaby emo CD, I see this [insert berating expletitive here] woman pulling out of her parking space, without the cautionary slowness, without much of a glance and ON HER MOTHER TRUCKING CELL PHONE!!! Needless to say, that genius nearly backed into a car driving by.

*Shakes head for a while*

I know I joke about it a lot, but Tucson traffic is a serious f*cking hazard. We're not even a big city and we have big city problems. Can LA traffic seriously be much worse than this?

~A (Tender young confusion, send black mariah for blue delusions)

{Can't sleep, clowns'll bitchslap me}
08 September 2003 @ 9:10 PM

BGM: "Icy Red" by The Motels
Wanting: for this shiet to stop!
Wearing: Red/blue ON jersey-style tee, navy blue ON shorts

I have been sleep-deprived for the past two nights. If it's one thing that can bring me the most joy with the least amount of effort, it's sleep, and for me to be robbed of such a sweet and precious gift is just too many kinds of wrong to count.

***WARNING: The following paragraph contains adult language uncharacteristic of me and a vaguely hiphop-esque tone of voice***

I think it's due to the fact that I (cuz no one else will take the blame) somehow managed to fuck myself over (WITHOUT lube) with my car payment. See, I'm not all that phat when it comes to mailing in my payments in time. Especially my insurance, dawg! Damn, I don't know why that is! It's the cheaper of my two major payments and I still never seem to get it in on time. Well, enter the bitch-ass company that finances my car and always seems to dangle a "Yo' Ass Is Not Insured. Yo' Ass Better Get Insured Or We'll Bust A Cap In Yo' Bitch Ass" letter (though, the real version says 'ass' a lot more). They always send that shit and they never seem to never follow with because those jerk-offs don't realize that the insurance payment arrived, maybe a day or two late. As it turns out, this time ass got busted. Though I did call my insurance company with a quickness upon recieving the finance company's warm, fuzzy reminder letter, apparently it wasn't enough to get anything done about it. So now I'm here, bitchslapped with an almost $400 car payment that includes shitty, po'-ass, bare-bones coverage that the financing company put on. That's fucked up right there. I am going to rip them a new one...! Anybody care to give me some pointers?

***Okay, you're safe now***

Maybe it's due to the anticipation, anxiousness and stress that's associated with my impending departure of the Matt's House Manor and out into my own soon-to-be castle-like apartment. Because then, and only then will I truly be on my own. Without anyone else to help me (except for my brother and possibly his friend Orlando). And without a net (well, I'm sure I can always fall back to grandma's house if need be). Possibly without ever spending money the same way again (that is, until Dad comes out and he moves in with us too). See? So you can that this feeling is very much NOT undue. It's like, the catharsis of my old life, and into something completely alien. All I ask is that I get a cool and sexy new wardrobe to go with it and decent and matching decor for my cute new home.

~A (He means all the world to me, icy red, icy red, icy red me)

{*Insert dust being kicked up here*}
08 September 2003 @ 1:38 AM

BGM: "Right Here, Right Now" by Jesus Jones
Wanting: a feather duster and some sleep
Wearing: red two-tone ON shirt, black AZ Jean Co. carpenter pants

I was going through my diary's older pages, archiving stuff and basically doing some late-summer cleaning. I decided to go back and delete a lot of entries that had nothing but quizzes on them. I thought that they were taking up too much precious bitching space. So I off and moved them over to the X! page.

With that, I am about 202 entries into this thing. So, it may be belated, but might as well mention it while it's still close enough to be almost relevant, HAPPY 200th ENTRY ME!!! *Throws rice* Whoo!

And now... sleep!

~A (Watching the world wake up from history)

{LXG, for lack of a better title}
07 September 2003 @ 3:33 AM

BGM: "Darkest Days" by Stabbing Westward
Wanting: Mina Harker's costumes
Wearing: grey 'Los Angeles' ON shirt, black FTL boxer-briefs

So today was rather interesting. I spent a large part of it with my brother and Steve... and just nearly as much time on my damned computer looking for some decent info/pics involving my two closely-tied latest obsessions; The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (more specifically, Peta Wilson's {Mina Harker} costumes) and Victorian-era women's fashion. I'll get to this soon, but I should probably get the rest of the day's events that lead up to this out of the way.

Ivan and I went to go look at some more apartments today (all that were opened on a Saturday) and we thoroughly impressed by what we saw. After that, I treated us out to a late lunch at On The Border. Let me just say that their wings so rock hardcore. They really do.

Anyway, after that, I met up with Steve in a bid to not be home (because who really wants to be home on a Saturday afternoon if you're not going to be sleeping?). I was hoping to get some dressy sandals or slip-on shoes for work, seeing as my other dressy-typed shoes are either a) worn or b) hurtful. Alas, it was to no avail, so I'll have to wait when I have more time to do a more thorough search.

Steve and I had other plans in mind. I've been in such a movie kick, so we went and caught something at the cheapo theaters. I ended up choosing to see LXG because no matter what anyone says, it's a good movie. Granted, it's not very plot-intensive and some of the lines sound like they were written by 5th graders, but if you come into it not wanting anything else than to be entertained (like yours truly), it suffices exceedingly.

Anyway, I've seen the movie before (actually only a couple of weeks ago) and I was thoroughly enthralled by the costuming on the part of Peta Wilson's character Mina Harker. Her costumes kick so much Victorian-era ass. This little portion of the film's impact on my was made greater by the fact that in my drawings recently, I've created a female witch character that dresses in the same fashion and I've been working hard to get it as accurate as I can. It really makes me wish that I had a scanner so that I could post them side-by-side for all the world to see (as if the entire world read this).

So that leads me to wasting about five hours or so online when I got home from dropping Steve off. I originally started with 'Victorian Women's fashion,' then I worked my way over to 'Edwardian fashion,' then to 'seamstresses,' to the 'Gibson Girl'. It was all really exhausting. I ended up getting some sketches and getting a rough idea, but nothing that I really hoped for.

I'm done for tonight. I hope to awaken early enough to get some stuff done, like taking my car in for a check-up and oil change (yeah right) and maybe even trying again at the whole shoe thing.

~A (I'm complicated)