a shot in the arm

my dad is so jazzed on this MD thing. he let me give him a shot of blood thinner tonight before he flew to new york. its just subcutaneous (under the skin) so no skillz were needed, and he did end up having to help me jam the needle in (i didnt know you were sposed to go all the way down), but i gave my first shot before i even took calculus! i am gonna be so precocious!
went to the beach and got a sunburn and went swimming again. there are many bad things about my tiny peninsular hometown, but the beaches are not one. they may be the nicest beaches i've ever been to, and ive been to a few. a huge swath of clean, white, fine sand, practically deserted this time of year. non of the tourist hordes of the mediterranean beaches, plus the waves the mediterranean lacks. none of the scary bugs or overly pounding surf of tropical costa rica. no pesky driftwood. plenty of room. easily accessible. and the temperature of the water was perfect. a perk, perhaps, of the evil global warming? used to be far, far too cold to swim comfortably in may. had to wait till july. the past week it has been sublime. chill but not chilly. cool and clear and breezy and warm. oh my gosh, just let the icecaps fucking melt, i say. seriously, i got out of the water from my frolicking today and it was like i was high. its like meditative and energizing at the same time. the best.
no myspace response from my 18-year-old lover with a moustache. looks like i am going to have to change my strategy. this hooking up thing is all a learning experience for me. like, does this work. no. does this work? no. this? no. this? bingo. ok. i'm just throwing my pride to the wind here.

hey suburbia- i'm in love with you

so, tuesday was my last night at work, i went out, got wasted, tried and failed to make out with my old school 20-year-old work crush, just one last time for good measure, ya know? and we took this lovely picture - look at his sweet eyebrows!

and he just kept his mouth shut tight and eventually threw me off his lap. (yes, i was publicly holding him hostage for a kiss, i got pretty aggro. god, such a rapist these days. a failed rapist.) i sent him a tex mex later that said "you fucking ice princess." and he sent me back one that said "you coked-out whore" and i replied "theres no coke or money in it for me, i just wanted to kiss your pretty lips while i had one last chance." and then another "my heart and mouth are pure and true, dickie" (his name is rich). i then posted the above photo and text msg exchange on his myspace comments, and the next day the comment was deleted and i was unfriended. but so what? the guy is about as mature as a 12 year old, i never have to work with him or anyone else there again.

---
point being: work is over, fuck yeah. i did my 2 weeks, i left on a good note. so i went to bed at 2 am, got up at 5am, showered and packed and left for the airport at 6:30, and got into san diego at 10:40. its been mostly overcast, can you f'ing believe that shit?
i havent worked since tuesday, the longest time i have had off in ages. and my homecoming has been mutually desireable from my pov and my parents', so its been a major lovefest all around. we are bonding SO HARD! dad got me from the airport, and we ate at his fave breakfast place. then he was like, i have to go to nursing homes and the hospital, wanna come? my obv reaction, having been to a couple nursing homes in my childhood when i was too young to leave at home alone, was "FUCK no." nursing homes are not places i want to hang out at! i wanna go home and raid your fridge, take a nap, say hi to the dog, and call my friends. but like, as a model daughter and aspiring physician i was just like, well ok. i should get over this scariest part of medicine: the old and infirm. so i went to a few with him. they were sad. all smelled strongly of a different artificial air freshener. i swear the one with pink walls smelled like bubble gum.
my dad told me about the nursing home he liked before we went in. this is a place for people with alzheimers. they are locked in cause otherwise they'd wander away. but they are treated well; docs have found that peeps with the alz react well to music, color, and movement. so my dad is like "ive told roz (his DP) that this is where i would like to come when i'm old. i just picture it being, like, philipina nurses in short skirts playing catch with you all day." whoa dad, funny. no, it just gets funnier. "i mean, they dont have to be philipina, they just have to have the short skirts. and by the time i'm here, they can be like 60, and they'll still be young and hot to me." this was the place with pink walls that smelled bubblegummy, and it was decorated a little like an elementary school classroom, all colorful, big cutout cakes for all the may birthdays on the bulletin board, (all octogenarians), notices about the 50s nostalgia sockhop next week, a little wooden panel with various typles of latches on it that you could just play with. the wheelchairs were like fun 360 degree ridey swirly chairs, a guy walked by in a helmet and shoulderpads, i thought a spied a rack of dressup clothes under a cloth in the hallway, and the loveliest soft but upbeat old-timey instrumental music was playing in the cafeteria where we went to visit opal. there were no balls being thrown by short-skirted nurses, much to dad's chagrin, but i could see what he meant about the place. a sock hop? hell yeah. some of the patients he saw that day have been my dads patients for 20 years. that blows my mind that my dad is that old. i'm proud of him for having that kind of retention rate.
anyways, then we went to the hospital where i was born, and i got "healing touch" reiki therapy from their new! natural healer lady, for free! for my sciatica. she wasnt fucking around, she told me herself that i need physical therapy and x-rays, but oh boy was this shit relaxing, and its fun to know that even if its just at coronado hospital, i am a vip somewhere. still cant get xrays for free though. today i was telling my dad how sometimes in sf i say "do you know who my father is?" "you wouldnt talk to me like that if you knew who my dad was." "my father could buy and sell you!" and he was all what? oh i get it, it has nothing to do with me. but i kinda realized that in my hometown, i cant say shit like that, cause it might actch work.
lets see, the next day i went and saw my moms house where she lives with her fiance, and we had lunch and just raved about how much we both love our topamax soooo much. things with mom are so light and easy now. its the first time in 10 years we've been able to hang out without tears and exasperation and anger.
then i went back for more healing touch, then the sun briefly made a cameo so i went to the beach but it was too late for a tan, but i did go in the the water, and i was frolicking so fucking hard. i dont know if you know this about me, but swimming in the ocean is one of the pleasures i hold most dear in this world. i know, thats so so-cal, right? so i was at the beach about a half mile from the house i grew up in. its my favorite, i just kind of know the waters there, ya know? ive swam with dolphins there. ive also had a totally humiliating experience there where the lifeguards fucking 86'd my frolicking with the dolphins SO hard by deciding to rescue me and pull me in from a rip current, which i totes know how to swim out of. rip current? not a prob. shame of being rescued? rage at being overbabysat at my home beach? intolerable. i was all "but i'm the captain of the water polo team and the swim team! i did junior lifeguards!"
so this time, i was alone except for one surfer, and i was gaily chasing the perfect wave to bodysurf in, and admiring the foamywhite and clear azure of the water which was a rust color last time i was here due to red tide. and then i look up and i have an audience. the lifeguard SUV is just there on the beach watching me. i'm being babysat, and prettymuch cause i am a bitch in a bikini with milkwhite skin i am obv not from around here and need to be rescued, fuck! theyre profiling me. if i only had a dick and a surfboard, i'd be free to RIDE the rip currents out to where the waves were breaking! so i frolicked a little longer but when i heard them say some shit to me over the megaphone i just gave up and came in. the surveillence had already killed my buzz, and my pride could not handle another rescue at my own beach. god, though, now i am filled with rage at the goddamned safety patrol ruining my fun. i guess my future strategy is gonna be going to more touristy, crowded parts of the beach where i will not stand out as the lone pale chick who needs an attendant.
anyways, next day, shopping with mommy! we went to nordies and the bitch is crazy! i feel so spoiled already, getting driven around, having my shit paid for, being fed, all this support going back to school. and my mom is like pressuring me to buy stuff! like, i am not holding back, i got 4 sweaters, 2 more tops, and 2 pair shorts, 7 pair undies, and the lady is like, are you SURE you dont want a purse or something? shoes? you dont see anything else you like? why not? whoa! the craaaaaziest "i'm grown up now" moment was when i was like "are these too tight, mom? i have like, a total panty line." and she was like "well you'll just have to wear a thong. lets go buy you some thongs" hey-o! mom just said thong. in reference to me, wearing one, as an imperative. omg, i have to sit down. that was so weird. mom is a person. mom knows about thongs.
then i fixed up my dads road bike, which he is going to give me. hooray! i am thinking it'll be better for my long commute to state, a little faster, and better for the back. so i took it for my maiden voyage, to try to get used to that leany-over roadbike posture, and having the gears shift down on the frame instead of up on the handlebars. it was really fucking fun. i think i could love this bike. i will have moms bike and dads bike! i am an heiress!
so i went all over, went to my friends house where she lives with her fiance, then got my bike in a truck and went over to coronado (cant really bike there, its over a bridge), and we hung out at this rich lady's condo in a highrise on a beach where my married friends were housesitting, and we smoked pot out of the rich lady's bubbler, drank champers out of her candy colored $400 champ flutes, looked out at the beach, and sat on low pink cushions in the pink light of her opium dennish living room which contains an original horse from the coney island carousel worth a million bucks. i sat sidesaddle on it and it made a very unsettling creak. i hope i did not break a million dollar horse.
i slept at my friends house, he lives at his grandma's vacated house, it is so cute and old-timey and has a spare bedroom, and this decorative bunch of oversized plastic grapes in amber plastic that just makes me flip my lid. and you should see the wallpaper in the bathroom.
i awoke and biked to the ferry and took the ferry cross the bay (so fucking scenic! ew, so much navy presence!) and had a vigorous uphill ride home, then dad and i wwent up to north county for my neph's 1st b-day partay. there was a bouncy castle and a keg and lots of cuervo, kind of like a cloyne party. my texas grandparents on moms side were there and my grandma is wacko and old and bent over in a way i didnt think possibe. my grandpa still looks exactly the same as i have always remembered him, still has all his hair and dresses in the cutest baseball raglans like jeff seal. bro-in-laws persian fam was there too, and my sister was like "i like to think of it as 'wild-west meets middle east.'" i fucking loved it. the hicks and the persians united in the creepiest suburban complex i have ever seen. pics 2 cum.
the best was that they got the cake at albertsons (ew) but they gave them a free cake for the baby to just go wild and dig into. hello photo op! so i go grab my camera while this adorable 1 year old is sitting in his high chair, up to his elbows in cake and frosting, and i come out and theres already like 10 flashes going off in his face and i'm all, paparazzi! so i start making suuuuuuuuper lame jokes like "tanner is it true youre dating lindsay lohan? i hope youre using protection" "how do you feel about losing the oscar to george clooney, tanner?" "tanner, is it true youre gonna star in ron howards next flick." "tanner can we get a money shot?" "tanner i need to send my kid to college." and then i turn to my right and realize that my bro in law is video taping the whole goddamn thing and my embarassingly bad jokes are now caught in the family archives forevs. i zipped it so hard after that! then he went to get in the pics and handed the camera to me, so i perved out for a sec and stuck it down the cleavage of whoever was next to me. lots of large and exposed bosomes 'mongst my sisters young milfy friends.
umm, then i went back to coronado to party, there was a big to-do for a 35 year old who finally got his BA. it was crazy, there were high schoolers there, but my high school waterpolo coach and his wife were there too. um, i got wasted. i listened to readyville alone in a room for awhile. i fell in love with a tiny 18 year old with a moustache and tight pants and a tshirt with a bike on it. i impressed him by making jokes about his high school spanish teacher, who was also my high school spanish teacher. i got him to come to the afterparty where i was spending the night, and i kissed him briefly, but chatty namedropsalot mcrecordcollector made us go to to her studio apartment and listen to her talk about records and name drop for hours and she totes stole my fire. then her record shelves collapsed and we had to stack her gazillion records, then we left and he went back to his moms house cause it was like 5am. i awoke in my shoes and was told by my friend that he actually had to like physically place me in the bed and tuck me in. i really dont remember anything after my paramour went home. i guess he left and i just let myself black out or something, what a lameass i am. probs would not have been real fun to hook up with anyways, eh?
anyways, today i awoke late, rushed home to pickup dad, and we made it to the davinci code just in time, then ate mediterranean food, then got a bike box and acted out the most adorable little comedy as we tried to get it in the car, then put it on top of the car, and decided we would just both hold onto it with one hand, then i tied it up with some plastic yellow "caution" tape i found (hope they didnt still want people to use caution there), then drove home at 15mph still holding the box which was catching hella wind, and my ddad got all flustered and started going the wrong way against traffic on a busy street, it was hilarious, i tell you. then i napped on the couch spooning the cat while dad and watched da vinci code specials on the history channel. total father-daughter bonding day, arent we cute? oh it only happend (i think thats how happend should be spelld, would you guys mind if i did shit like that?) cause roz had a death in the fam and had to leave town, and i am sad for her but happy to spend the QT with dad. a lil embarassed that he prefaced some story with "while you were out drinking massive quantities of whiskey last night..." and i was like "howd you know?" and he was like "i can smell it on your breath!" he wasnt judgemental or mean about it, but i still feel a little like a degenerate.
anyways, i have been lavishing in the spoils of suburbia. i have enjoyed hanging with the rents and the hometown friends. i like hanging out with my parents and realizing exactly which traits i get from both of them. at her party my sister was like, "why arent you drinking?" and i was like, cant do tequila, not into beer, wine makes me tired. and shes like what do you drink then? and i'm like, er, whiskey. and she freaked out. "oh my god you really are just like mom!" yes, i spent 24 years trying to not be like mom, but ive just had to succumb to the inevitable. we just like some of the same stuff, you know? cats, whiskey, heavy eyeliner, hair bleach, hairspray, and topamax, 'kay? and my dad pointed out that i am like my mom, but since i am part him, i act like mom, and then i brood and introspect over it like my dad.
my dad and i also discovered that we both have a habit of diagnosing people with judaism. i am always so sure peeps are jewish. i am always asking people if they are jewish. i dont feel too confident in it, but my dad knows jews. and he confirms me that there is jewishness beyond religion and even secular jewish culture. he has also done research about jewish diaspora at the time of christ and watch out ireland, youre all actch jews. the gallic schnozz? just a snootier, watered down verzh of a jew nose, you snooty french! and dont get me started, italy.
what? hello, tangent much? anyways, my vacay has been sweet so far. spoils of suburbia, spooning the dog and the cat, bonding with rents, shopping, 18 year old boys with moustaches, etc etc dad is leaving for NYC tomorrow and i will miss him. how will i ever get my bike on and off the plane? i am seriously considering bringing the tools with me, and just putting on my handlebars and pedals in the oakland airport parking lot, using my new handpump on the tires, and biking home from the airport, rather than schlepping on bart with a fucking unwieldyass bike box. anyways, this is like the worlds longest blog, thankyougoodnight.

slavs are the new pirates- i said it first

hey blog. sorry ive been a little lax about bloggin', dudes. so many fun stories to tell you, but like, i can barely take time out of my fun havin' to write em down. remind me to tell you the one about hitting on jakob dylan, all for dads sake, trying to create a liason between the warm and dylan fams.
i was flirting with a coworker last night and he was like "we're having a going away party for you, and we're not inviting you." oh haha. i'll sleep with you later tonight. but i replied "dont worry about ME, ive been having a going away party for myself every night since i gave my notice!" and thats not too too much of an exaggeration. i was already in this spring fever, partygirl, my-depression-has-been-
successfully-treated-for-the-first-time-ever-and-its-a-huge-weight-lifted-,ive-lost-
15-lbs-and-i'm-so-confident phase, and the whole quitting work and going back to school thing is just the icing on the motherfucking cake.
my entire life is kind of turned around. i know how to flirt! ive never flirted before! i make out with dudes, sometimes! i make party friends at bars! i am generally happy, but still in touch with my emotions. i have a smile for everyone. i no longer cry every day or fantasize about punching people on a regular basis. i react to the stressors of my life in what i feel is a constructive way. this shit is crazy!
downsides? 1. ive been drinking hella whisky... am i an alkie? 2. have i been annoying the shit out of people with my constant effervescence? just let me know, dudes. i am still edgy. i can still take a hit! 3. have my meds dumbed me down? will i be smart enough for school? (phew, at least i know i am still neurotic enough to experience some gnarly anxieties- but no major panic attacks). 4. fucking sciatica! pinched fucking nerve in the back sending pain down my right leg. 5. butt acne! yes, i am publicly admitting that i have a few painful and unsighly zits where my leg meets my ass. fuck! i cant get rid of it! never had it till now! is it the meds? the biking? my underwear? did my hot coworker notice when i exited his bed NAKED several times this morning to use the restroom?
yeah dudes, this new guy started at my work like 2 weeks ago. and like all the new guys, he could not stop staring at the troika of pretty bitches sifting flour, emulsifying brownie batter, caramelizing sugar, frosting cupcakes, etc in the pastry shop. its seriously unreal, theres a skylight over the pastry secion, and in spring the light comes in, bounces off the marble counter top, melts the butter, and illuminates us in this crazy hot way. one short cute girl, one tall blonde, and one avian exotic, with dark hair and blue eyes and a greek nose. they stare, what can we do? we call them the stare bears. the new guy called ricky martin was the worst, with his doc martens and his wallet chain. ricky martin? ha! more like icky martin!
but then this latest stare bear, i was like, wait. i wanna stare back! so i did. ironically, in a kitchen full of guys over 6'1", i cant stop staring at the guy whos like maybe 5'10" if i'm being generous, in his clip on bike shoes (they must add some height). i just have to face it, i like short dudes sometimes. beauty bar bartender? he must be like 5'7" or some shit. love him. its cool though, i just dont care anymore. how liberating. so i just started flashing the new fish cook these looks, taught to me, btw, by the generous beauty bar bartender who i have kind of used as my flirtation mentor.
("why do you always look at me like some german film noir character?"
"i dont know, how do you want me to look at you?"
"like this-" shows me the face, i imitate "thats how you get the free drinks"
"if you gave me a free drink right now i'd puke on my shoes, and then i'd never get a free drink again"
fin")
but anyways, ive been enjoying flirting with this cute short track bikin' cook, and he was bustin my balls about what a slob i am in the kitchen, and i couldnt tell if he was being serious or flirting so i was like "well, i guess hes flirting! ima flirt back!" and i love being the messiest girl in the kitchen, and in the world, i guess, so i was not about to feel shame about that. but i guess he was flirting, and not shaming, cause i went home with him last night. phew, i wanted to hook it with someone from work before my tenure was up. thanks, mustachioed beauty bar bartender, for showing me some moves! i still pay for my drinks there, but last time he gave me jim beam instead of the well whiskey, so i guess i'm doing all right.

EDIT- i just wanna add- ok, half of all of my horn-tootin' is tongue in cheek, but like, i was such a chill, fun chick to make out with and sleepover (no sex, ps, you know i'm not that kinda gal) with last night! when we had to get out of bed today, where things have the potential to get awkward (oh, listen to me going on like a seasoned hooker-upper- "let me tell you what sleeping with boys is like, cause i know ALL about it now.") i was like, picking up my bra off the floor and i didnt see my underwear, but obv didnt wanna like get up all naked to root around on the floor for them, so i just kinda like funnied about it, like "soooo, like, um, have you seen my, like? um? underwear, around?" god, i'm so chill, it was cute, i promise. hard to transcribe my cute intonation here. "yes, theyre on my floor." ok, thass all.

slavs are the new pirates- i said it first

hey blog. sorry ive been a little lax about bloggin', dudes. so many fun stories to tell you, but like, i can barely take time out of my fun havin' to write em down. remind me to tell you the one about hitting on jakob dylan, all for dads sake, trying to create a liason between the warm and dylan fams.
i was flirting with a coworker last night and he was like "we're having a going away party for you, and we're not inviting you." oh haha. i'll sleep with you later tonight. but i replied "dont worry about ME, ive been having a going away party for myself every night since i gave my notice!" and thats not too too much of an exaggeration. i was already in this spring fever, partygirl, my-depression-has-been-
successfully-treated-for-the-first-time-ever-and-its-a-huge-weight-lifted-,ive-lost-
15-lbs-and-i'm-so-confident phase, and the whole quitting work and going back to school thing is just the icing on the motherfucking cake.
my entire life is kind of turned around. i know how to flirt! ive never flirted before! i make out with dudes, sometimes! i make party friends at bars! i am generally happy, but still in touch with my emotions. i have a smile for everyone. i no longer cry every day or fantasize about punching people on a regular basis. i react to the stressors of my life in what i feel is a constructive way. this shit is crazy!
downsides? 1. ive been drinking hella whisky... am i an alkie? 2. have i been annoying the shit out of people with my constant effervescence? just let me know, dudes. i am still edgy. i can still take a hit! 3. have my meds dumbed me down? will i be smart enough for school? (phew, at least i know i am still neurotic enough to experience some gnarly anxieties- but no major panic attacks). 4. fucking sciatica! pinched fucking nerve in the back sending pain down my right leg. 5. butt acne! yes, i am publicly admitting that i have a few painful and unsighly zits where my leg meets my ass. fuck! i cant get rid of it! never had it till now! is it the meds? the biking? my underwear? did my hot coworker notice when i exited his bed NAKED several times this morning to use the restroom?
yeah dudes, this new guy started at my work like 2 weeks ago. and like all the new guys, he could not stop staring at the troika of pretty bitches sifting flour, emulsifying brownie batter, caramelizing sugar, frosting cupcakes, etc in the pastry shop. its seriously unreal, theres a skylight over the pastry secion, and in spring the light comes in, bounces off the marble counter top, melts the butter, and illuminates us in this crazy hot way. one short cute girl, one tall blonde, and one avian exotic, with dark hair and blue eyes and a greek nose. they stare, what can we do? we call them the stare bears. the new guy called ricky martin was the worst, with his doc martens and his wallet chain. ricky martin? ha! more like icky martin!
but then this latest stare bear, i was like, wait. i wanna stare back! so i did. ironically, in a kitchen full of guys over 6'1", i cant stop staring at the guy whos like maybe 5'10" if i'm being generous, in his clip on bike shoes (they must add some height). i just have to face it, i like short dudes sometimes. beauty bar bartender? he must be like 5'7" or some shit. love him. its cool though, i just dont care anymore. how liberating. so i just started flashing the new fish cook these looks, taught to me, btw, by the generous beauty bar bartender who i have kind of used as my flirtation mentor.
("why do you always look at me like some german film noir character?"
"i dont know, how do you want me to look at you?"
"like this-" shows me the face, i imitate "thats how you get the free drinks"
"if you gave me a free drink right now i'd puke on my shoes, and then i'd never get a free drink again"
fin")
but anyways, ive been enjoying flirting with this cute short track bikin' cook, and he was bustin my balls about what a slob i am in the kitchen, and i couldnt tell if he was being serious or flirting so i was like "well, i guess hes flirting! ima flirt back!" and i love being the messiest girl in the kitchen, and in the world, i guess, so i was not about to feel shame about that. but i guess he was flirting, and not shaming, cause i went home with him last night. phew, i wanted to hook it with someone from work before my tenure was up. thanks, mustachioed beauty bar bartender, for showing me some moves! i still pay for my drinks there, but last time he gave me jim beam instead of the well whiskey, so i guess i'm doing all right.

wooooooooooooo

yeah! just a quick blog before i run off to work, something to share with my readership to perhaps brighten your wednesday. monday i called in sick with a fever, did everything by the employee handbook, totally legit. tuesday my boss gave me the MOST unprofessional, passive agressive, angry behavior, "oh, you look like youre 100% better," well maybe you should actually LOOK at me before you come in ready to say that shit to me, etc etc, and i got the silent treatment from my department the whole day. it was soooo uncomfortable, and all i could think about was how i could not fucking WAIT to quit my job, and ohmygod, what if i dont get into my program at state, all my eggs are in one basket. even if my boss thinks i am lying and i just called in sick to go on strike, thats NO excuse to treat an employee like that. SO unprofessional.

i ran home to check the mail. no mail. but the email. congratulations youve been accepted! i was so tempted to go back to work and tell my boss that in exchange for her unprofessional behavior i was going tit for tat and not going to give her notice. but i called dad and let him convince me of what i knew was true which is that i should totes be the better person and just leave on a quiet and amicable not. i went back to work and instead very calmly gave my 2 weeks notice, i am so fucking outta there, with a paycheck and 2 weeks of vaycay time before school starts june 5th. I'm IN! celebrate for me!

i forgot.

i forgot to mention in the previous blog:
i had a fucking fantastic time this past weekend. it was so fucking fun. for 3 days, i was so happy. i was in a great fucking mood. i got along with everyone. i enjoyed just about all of it, ups and downs included. just for the record.
also, as the upshot, i lost my voice. i am hella sick now. i ran my shit into the fucking ground. i have a cut on my leg (previous dance floor injury) which i think is infected. i have a sore throat, a cough, a runny nose, and my face is kinda red. my dad is worried that the cut may have a staph or strep infection that is making me sick. i kinda just think, well i dont really know. time will tell. i may have an excuse to call in sick next monday, we'll see.

slavly weekend

oh dude. i had a craaaaaaaaaaazy weekend. somehow the planets aligned, and it started with thursday being the last day of my workweek, being 420, and payday, and a beautiful day, in the first week of sun after 2 months of dreary rain here in SF. i went into work an hour early on thursday. i could just feel this kind of spring fever. thursday night involved a great music show with 2 great bands, 7 hours of whiskey drinking, and flirting with a hot bartender. slav count: 2 malinowskas (polish), that girl natalia (ukrianian jew).
friday involved nursing my hangover laying in the sun at dolores park, listing to readyville and loving it so hard it hurt my stomach. and then i was like "ooh, i love readyville so hard it hurts my stomach." but then i was like, "or maybe it was the 7 hours of whiskey drinking." and there was readyville and sunshine and long grass and wildflowers and playground chatter and views of the skyline and pomegranate juice and acrostics. the nighttime involved dinner with a high school friend and her mom, who is kinda nuts and it was weird but fun and made me feel like i have, like, roots. people from home whose parents like me.
then from there i went to meet ag and veljko (serbian, are they slavs, the balkies? eastern euros, at least.) and the craaaaaaaaaaaaaazy russian guy from their work at happy hour. i'm not even gonna get into details of the russian guy story here, but i will say this: we told him he couldnt come with us to the night club. ag and veljko got in a cab, i got on my bike, russian guy is on his bike, fuck! and hes an intense biker and i am a slow biker with a back problem, on a slow bike. no WAY can i outbike this guy on the streets of sf! hes totally going to follow me to the club, despite the fact that we dont want him there. but i knew where i was going and he did not. so he followed me down market street, talking to me all the while, while i ignored him, rocking out on my headphones to my new Los Bunkers CD.
his hubris was his downfall, it was, though, cause he couldnt bear to be the slower biker, so he kept biking ahead and then waiting for me to catch up to him. he ran red lights while i paitently waited. and i was all the while trying to figure out the most efficient way from market to fell and van ness. market to hayes, down van ness? market to van ness, up hayes? but no, fell meets market, its just one-way in the wrong direction! perfect! so, russian guy, riding ahead, never expects me to turn right onto fell, as its a one-way the other way! he crossed against the red light, and i turned onto the sidewalk and slipped down the mere half block or so to van ness, and evaded the shit out of the crazy fuck! oh, how proud i was! an international woman of mystery! i would have felt so bad if i had been at fault for having him along with us all night.
the club was ok- the usual scenester to-do: long line outside, the bouncers tell you you arent getting in, you get in like 12:45, you pay more than you want to, the haircuts and clothes are amazing, the music is just ok, the host is over-enthusiastic, the bouncers have to manhandle someone out the door, huge groups of people are openly doing cocaine in the bathroom. alex tuzin was there. i always thought tuzin was a russian name, akin to puskin? is that another slav? hottest boy i ever knew at berkeley. i wanted to take him home with me, but he has a girlfriend. pfff.
later i met some people who invited me to an afterparty and i was like yeah i'll go its close to my house, i am a wild party girl, why not! i'll just stop home and get some whiskey first. so heres the best part: and i decided to make a cup of coffee and email someone while the coffee brewed, so i sat down with the coffee in a bowl (out of clean mugs!) to finish the email, and bam! entire cup of scalding hot coffee on the lap. in the pubic region. i had to throw off my new dress. and then i was like i'm naked and covered with coffee and my vag is burning and my curtains are open! so i went to close the curtains and accidentally pulled the entire curtain rod down over myself. it was comedy. i decided to scrap the party idea, and just passed out then and there.
i woke up saturday and cuddled in bed with my walkman on readyville. then i went to my brother's punk show, defect defect from portland is on tour and they were in town to play a matinee show in a backyard. then he dropped off my new computer from dad! woo hoo! then a leisure preparty at my house feat. a new part-slav on the scene, andrew half-persian-half-czech sarkarati. then dancing to brit-pop, then the post-party again at my house with a ukranian girl and a bulgarian boy we picked up along the way.
i woke up yesterday having lost my voice, looking like i'd been punched in the face. i had to work till eleven pm then at 10 am this morning. its been a wild few days. i musta had a gallon of wkiskey.
i may strike next monday against the new immigration law, and lose my job for it. i am kind of ok with losing my job, so i feel like i must do it since other people cant. i feel pretty strongly against the passage of this law. and i hate how SF will jiizz its fucking pants over gay marriage but not over something that really matters,.

oh, hey, look

http://www.fecalface.com/SF/
go to P.O.T.D.
its the green tab towards teh top.

i was the fecal face photo of the day. i guess fecal face is popular among a certain clique of sf art snobs. i never think the photos are that arty or that great. i guess i'm just not smart enough for their art. but there i am, looking half retarded, next to a silver truck.

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this funny thing happened at work yesterday. well, for starters, i work a lot of morning shifts, and in the mornings, its basically just me and the mexican guys: mexican kitchen manager, bread baker, pastry prep guy/croissant baker, breakfast cook, prep cook, kitchen steward, room service server, dishwasher, etc. i've been lucky enough to become friends with all of them; i'm actually way more comfortable with this morning crew than with the afternoon gringos now. i mean, they all think my name is helen, but i know who is sneaking brandy into their coffee, i know who is cousins with who, that the kitchen manager is the cousin of the bread baker who is childhood best friends with the nighttime manager who now lives a block away from him in richmond and sends his kids to the same school, etc.
i know that this antonio is just gone for a couple weeks cause his wife had a baby, but that antonio is gone cause hes going back to mexico after he comes in for his paycheck tomorrow. (incidentally new-papa-'tonio is taking over back-to-mexi-'tonio's position), and paco is short for francisco and paco is in the process of moving from dishwasher to pasta maker and god every time i see him making agnolotti i want to call him wolfgang paco.
but most importantly i know the words to every song that is currently or has been in the past year in rotation on 93.3 la raza. i also am getting familiar with many of the oldies on 100.3 recuerdos (great station!) and can recognize julio iglesias based solely on albertos impression of julio iglesias.
but anyways the other day the guys went to eat their lunch and the radio reception started coming in badly, so i turned it off. but the new prep guy (cousin of the other prep guy) didnt realize that i just turned it off till he got back, not cause i am actually bothered by mexican radio. so he tried to appease me by putting on Star, the american station. i felt bad, and my old boss (who i love,) was in for the day using the kitchen, and we were making fun of all the shitty music (nickelback? worse than i could have imagined. avril lavigne? worse than i remembered!), but she and i and my new boss, (who i hate) all did enjoy the occasional 80s gem. but when maroon 5 came on, my old boss was like "oh man, this is where i draw the line."
so i was like, yeah. this sucks. and i felt bad, cause i felt like it was kinda my fault we were being subjected to Star music, for having turned off the mexican radio in the first place. by this point one of the other prep guys was there, and i was just like, "oye, tonio, i dont know why this is on, put it back on la raza. we dont like this station."
and i think i kind of crossed the ruibcon. i joined ranks with the mexican guys. i explicitly expressed a preference for the mexican station of choice. (although i honestly prefer recuerdos 100.3 or cumbia 1170am). and my new boss was pissed. she got all quiet and pissy. i didnt really realize till afterwards that i had kind of committed an act of musical tyranny, but i totally did. in spanish. and my new boss is already kind of threatened by me speaking spanish all the time, cause its pretty much the only power i have over her, and its actually kind of powerful, in a restaurant kitchen. and i didnt really do anything wrong, and the radio does belong to the mexican guys, and it is usually on mexican radio, but i totally ruined it for her one of the rare times we had some gringo music.
but it was such bad gringo music! i dont care if its bad mexican music! i dont have to own "las mariposas" the way i have to own nickelback and maroon 5. i havent been hearing "fruta prohibida" (a fucking rad song, i must add) for 3 years straight the way i have that avril lavigne "i;m with you hoo hoo" song. its just so much easier to put in the background, and to disown, if you must!
so, i felt a little guilty about being a tyrant and displeasing my teammates, especially when my old boss was like "uh oh heather, what have you done?" and i realized maybe she was joking and actually would have preferred to stay on a shitty english station than go back to mexican music. but then i was like, you know what, fuck it. new boss tortures me every day. she is totally pouting about the fucking radio being back on mexican radio, and its totally all my fault. i cannot feel bad about this, on top of everything else. so i just revelled in my tiny, accidental, passive-agressive victory. power to the people, viva la raza!