Right now I'm in Albany. The last time I was here, there was a firefighters' convention in the hotel. This time, there's a sherriff's convention. Apparently, people who dig badges and sirens also dig Albany. Rock and roll.

I was a dumbass and took the redeye on Sunday night, so my brain still hasn't figured out what the hell time zone I'm in. It's really humid here, so my hair is increasingly large; I figure that by the time I go back to the city I'll look like I should just keep on going till I get to the Jersey shore circa 1988.

In other news, there are a bunch of things that I want to happen, such as the semi-move to NYC, but instead of proceeding immediately like I have done in the past, I am having to exercise patience in order to do things in a sustainable manner. This is quite a feat, as I am known for being slightly less patient than a howler monkey with ADD.

I almost bought a lottery ticket tonight. If my numbers win, I'm going to be pissed.

This post brought to you by lack of sleep and very large hair.

And no, you can't see pictures.

I just wrote a will. That was kind of surreal.

I am also flying from Los Angeles to New York this Sunday.

These two events are only marginally related.

I would just like to inform you all that UPS is the least competent organization that I have ever had the displeasure of doing business with.

You see, I ordered some pretty pretty sheets and a new quilt for my bed because I'm just that fucking girly sometimes. The delivery was scheduled for Friday afternoon. I waited patiently, periodically checking the UPS tracking website to see if the status had changed. No change, no UPS guy. Finally, I checked at around 7 p.m., and the status had changed, but not in a way that made me happy. Apparently, the UPS driver could not find my address, and entered that the street number was invalid.

Okay, you're thinking, simple mistake. Sometimes they can't find addresses.

Except that the UPS facility is not just on the same street as my loft, it's on the same fucking block.

So I called UPS and told them I'd pick the package up. Simple, right? It's just next door to my complex. Literally. I went over, and waited for about half an hour while the nice UPS counter man went to look for my package.

He came back empty-handed.

After I'd called and specifically asked them to pull my shipment so that I could physically walk in and pick it up, they fucking sent it back out on the truck again. I won't be home to pick it up, since I have to travel again all week.

Good times.

Hopefully, I'll get my package situation sorted out before the end of the week, since I have a houseguest coming into town for my birthday, and houseguests deserve to sleep on fancy new sheets. But god damn, man. Them's some incompetent fools all up in that piece.

Something I wrote in January 2003:

Ancient proverb: Give a man a fire and he'll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.

I really don't like people very much.

I mean, sure, I can hold my own in social situations. I can pretend to be all nice and sweet and make small talk with people. But if I had my way, I would buy a castle in the middle of Ireland or a ranch in Bum Fuck, Wyoming and just be one of those eccentric hermits that the townsfolk are afraid of. If I had the ranch, I'd have a lot of space for dogs to run around, so I'd purchase an army of smush-face dogs. I'd get a pug, a boston terrier, a boxer, a bulldog, and a shar-pei. (I know a couple of those don't actually have super-smushed faces, but they're funny looking enough to make me want one. I'm weird, ok?) Actually, I'd get two of each, a boy and a girl, all Noah's ark style. Then I'd name my ranch "The Ark of the Covenant" or something else scary and biblical sounding to really scare off the townsfolk.

While that sounds like a fucktastic idea, instead I came up with another one.

I've been toying for a looooong time with the idea of living half the year in NYC and half the year in Los Angeles. I thought about it a lot while I was in NYC last week, and I figured I should just fucking do it. I have a job that makes it totally feasible and I am just crazy enough to do it. So, I need two things: a roommate to share my loft in Los Angeles and a place to live in NYC (also with a roommate).

This will work out well for the person who is not me - I will pay half the rent for the entire year in each place, and I am usually only home on the weekends. I will live in NYC in the spring and fall, and L.A. in the summer and winter. I want to start doing this in the fall.

So, if anyone I know that isn't a creepy motherfucking stalker type is interested in a pretty awesome redheaded roommate who is hardly ever there but is totally willing to spring for good booze and a wireless router, let me know.

My good friend Keith died on Monday night, July 11, 2005 in a cycling accident. More about Keith here and here.

I didn't know what to say about it for a while. I still don't, really. I wrote some things about Keith on my blog. I went to his wake. I shared stories about him with friends and family. We successfully appropriated another subculture's ritual and poured out a 40 for him. And I still can't coherently convey how much he meant to me or to the countless people whose lives he touched.

So, instead, I've been learning (or trying to learn) from all of this. Even though it still, on some level, doesn't seem possible.

I took all of last week off work and spent time with some of the most wonderful people I know. Existing friendships were strengthened and new friendships were forged. I can't even begin to describe how much spending time with all of you meant to me.

Anyway, since I usually deal with pain, sadness, and strife with completely inappropriate humor, I'll be sure to get back to posting stuff about fisting celebrities pretty soon. I just thought I'd attempt to explain my temporary absence.

I have things I want to write about my ongoing quest to become bicoastal, running into my most favorite illicit kitten on the freeway yesterday, and how I totally came to the realization that some of the shit that's been going on in my life lately has dredged up some old emotions that aren't really relevant to the current situation. However, I am too tired to do that right now, as I've been entangled in red tape for two days and would just like to let my brain relax a smidge first. I decided to make this post purely to remind myself about this, because if I had posted it privately or offline I'd totally forget.

I'm old like that.

I go home tomorrow for 36 hours and then leave for various points on the east coast. I will be hugging the fuck out of my friends there. Consider yourselves warned.

An excerpt from something I wrote in November 2003:

Anyway, while all that was going on and I was getting more frustrated than a lone quadriplegic with a raging hard-on, I kept dwelling on my stupid fucking emo bullshit and because even if they are annoying I can't punch old ladies, I started composing a poem in my head. Now if that's not emo enough for you, go listen to the Get Up Kids and get out of my face. Seriously, though, I haven't written a poem since 1989, and even though I am telling you that I wrote one I am not going to let you see it, because it's really personal (read: shitty) and I want it to be just for me (read: I don't want to subject you to it because your eyes might catch fire due to the supreme suckiness and I just can't afford the lawsuits). However, I will share my favorite excerpt from it, because I have decided that said excerpt is going to be my personal motto from now on. Also, my future baby daddy said that with this excerpt, I have successfully summarized the collected works of Henry Miller in seven words, so I figure if that is the case then it is worth sharing. However, you might think it's utter crap, in which case you are a fucking idiot and nothing good will ever happen to you again. In any case, here it is:

laugh
cry
love
hate
eat
fuck
live

What did we learn from this?

1. I go through periodic bouts of being super emo.
2. I don't punch old ladies.
3. On occasion, I come up with some really kickass shit when I'm writing bad poetry.

Personal. Fucking. Motto.

Dollface.

I flew home today. Odd dreams on the plane. Went to the bar when I got home to socialize with the neighbors. They were all shitfaced. Gave out medical advice, contributed a line to one friend's play and turned down an offer to "party".

Typical night at the bar, really.

I'm so tired that my face feels like it's melting off. But my brain keeps going and going and going. It wants to create so badly it's almost forcing itself out of my skull. I'll indulge it tomorrow with so many, many things. I might even share.

Why is it that when I leave L.A., there are earthquakes? I have a sneaking suspicion that it is the same reason that the Yankees have not won the World Series since I moved away from New York.

What? I'm an egocentric narcissist. Deal with it.

Tomorrow, when I'm coherent, I'll probably write something a little less disjointed. But only a little.

I'm going to sleep for a while. Only one of you is allowed to call and wake me up.

I'm in southern Indiana right now.

Don't ask.

Anyway, I arrived somewhat late on Monday night, and after dealing with flight delays and flying for a good 8 or 9 hours, I wanted a beer. Just a beer. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, at 1 a.m. in southern Indiana, it is. Everyone I asked, from the clerk at the convenience store to the guy at the hotel front desk, all looked at me as if I'd grown an extra arm out of the side of my head.

(As an aside, how fucking convenient is a store that doesn't sell beer, anyway? I mean, at all. There was NO BEER in the convenience store. The hell is that about?)

So, Tuesday night, I was determined to have my after-work beer. I went to the front desk at the hotel and asked where the closest place to get beer was.

Again, I received puzzled, blank stares.

Finally, one of the staff recovered from their shock and chimed in that there was a liquor store called "Busy Bee" down the road, right after the KFC.

I love it when people give you directions by fast food landmark.

So, I headed on out to complete mission: get Kathleen an after-work beer. The area where I'm staying is sort of rural - lots of really small towns, chained together by Wal-Marts and tractor stores. As I drove down the road, I glanced around me at the sights. I passed a car wash whose marquee promised "Satisfaction guaranteed or your dirt back". A little further down the street, a hand-painted sign cautioned, "You have an expiration date. Trust Jesus."

It was a little disconcerting.

I arrived at the Busy Bee, which was a small, nondescript building in the middle of a parking lot. I walked in and headed for the beer coolers in the back of the store. Through the lone, tinny speaker in the corner, Eric Clapton told me that cocaine "don't lie". A lone customer stood in front of a frosted glass door, trying to make the difficult decision between Miller and Coors. He chose a twelve-pack of Old Milwaukee.

I knew I was in the right place.

I walked around the store, looking at the selection. Dozens upon dozens of bottles of premium spirits sat untouched on the dusty shelves. I turned the corner, and the shelves carrying Mad Dog and Thunderbird looked picked-over and sparse. I walked back to the cooler and saw an entire section filled with various flavors of Boone's Farm. On the radio, Van Halen insisted that "I might as well jump". I was instantly transported back to high school.

I chose a couple of large bottles of Asahi and brought them to the counter. The clerk rung up a leathery, nicotine-stained customer who was buying a bottle of Jim Beam, a pack of Winstons and a scratch-off lottery ticket.

The leathery customer spoke through his salt-and-pepper mustache, which was discolored to a yellowish-gray by tobacco smoke. "What kinda beer is that?" he drawled, looking at me sideways under his dusty Nascar cap.

The clerk answered for me. "I think it's Japanese," he said, giving me a look that said he knew I wasn't a local from my choice in alcohol. The grizzled customer mumbled something under his breath about "fur'ners" and left.

The clerk rang me up and I headed back to the hotel, passing three tractor dealerships and a discount Bible outlet. Safely ensconced in my chain-hotel haven, I enjoyed my fur'n beer and wondered where my next adventure would take me.

To be honest, I wouldn't mind if it was southern Indiana. At least I know where to find beer here.

I've been listening to the same playlist for 4 hours on repeat and I can't go to sleep even though I'm exhausted. This isn't a rare occurrence.

When I try to get up tomorrow, I will feel groggy and hit snooze too many times. I'll dissolve a packet of Emergen-C into a glass of water and guzzle it, then shower. By the time I emerge from the shower, the hotel room coffee pot will contain a freshly brewed batch of caffeinated swill for me to endure. I'll mindlessly walk down to the continental breakfast on the first floor like an automaton and pick up some sort of overprocessed snack on my way out. I'll drive the 25 miles to the place where I have to be and check in with the guard. I'll proceed upstairs, set up my laptop, and deliver a presentation I've delivered countless times before. We'll break for lunch, talk about industry topics and make small talk. We'll come back and I'll deliver another presentation I've delivered so many times I could probably do it with eyeless faceholes. I'll leave and drive the 25 miles back to the hotel, talking on the phone of creativity and motivation and future glory. I'll enter my room, dump my stuff, go downstairs for dinner, return, type sweet nothings into a box on a screen and collapse onto my bed.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Something I wrote in August 2003:

At last / My love has come along
My lonely days are over / And life is like a song

At last / The skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clovers / The night I looked at you

I found a dream / That I could speak to / A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill / To rest my cheek to / A thrill that I have never known

You smile, you smile / Oh, and then the spell is cast

And then after a little while reality sinks in and the initial glow fades away and we start seeing each other as we really are instead of the idealized visions that we had created in our minds and we start getting annoyed by each other's odd little habits and quirks and we start making fun of each other to our friends behind our backs and then we start complaining to our friends about all the shortcomings our partner had that we had never noticed before and we start bitching about how the other person has changed and isn't the same person we fell in love with but every once in a while one of us does something that reminds the other one of the beginning of the relationship when we were all starry-eyed and ass-over-tit in love and so we stay in the relationship even though the rest of the time we are miserable and before you know it 40 years have gone by and we are both looking back on our unfulfilled lives and thinking about how we wished we'd done things differently but now it's too late to start over and we're kind of used to each other anyway now that we don't really talk anymore and there's always a plentiful supply of vodka martinis (shaken not stirred) at the ready and even though we are both totally miserable and feel like we've wasted our lives we still look at each other sometimes and remember the very beginning when everything was warm and rosy and beautiful and we think

For you are mine at last.

Something I wrote in May of 2004:

My heart has been broken exactly three times.

The first time was when my grandfather died. It's a different kind of heartbreak, the heartbreak you experience when one of your most beloved family members dies. My grandfather was invincible - he'd had four heart attacks, three open-heart surgeries, one a triple bypass. He was resilient, always bouncing back to his fit, chipper self. At 80, he seemed to have the agility and fitness level of a man 30 years his junior.

We had an argument the night he had the stroke. I was 16, and a few months earlier I had given my daughter up for adoption. I was rebellious, contentious, what people would refer to as a "troubled teen". I was an asshole. I don't remember what the argument was about, now - it was probably something completely trivial. Several hours after the argument, he was watching the news, and collapsed in the living room.

He didn't die right away. He was in the hospital until the following afternoon. My mother didn't call me to tell me until after he died. She said that he wouldn't have wanted me to see him like that - weak, hooked up to machines to keep him alive. I never got to say goodbye to my favorite person on the planet. I never got to apologize for behaving like such an ass and causing him distress. He loved me unconditionally through some of the darkest days in my life and I felt like I took him for granted. My heart crumbled.

He was always somewhat sad that I went on a dark path, that I didn't live up to my potential. His death changed that path. This month marks the 13th anniversary of his death, and I'd like to think that I've spent those 13 years doing things that would have made him proud.

Rest in peace, Grandpa. I love you.

I've always had an ability to kind of shut things off when I need to. There are so many things I need to process right now, I kind of have to set aside a couple of them. My problem is that I need to compartmentalize them instead of shutting them off, because that on/off switch only works one way.

Indiana tomorrow. Viva suburbia!

Storytelling begins soon. Consider yourselves warned.

I just got home from my trip to New York. The flight back was uneventful, though the other passengers in first class kept eyeballing me suspiciously. I was like, what, bitch? You've never seen a purse that has a zombie saying "Ain't got no skull!" on it before?

Yeah. I'm a classy broad.

The weekend was pretty fucking awesome. Intense, sure, and painful at times, but I really had a good time. I miss that city and I love spending time in it with people that kick ass. Thankfully, the ass-kicking was metaphorical this time, and we didn't end up having to explain why that coked-up bartender ended up getting thrown through a window. The story behind that deserves an entry all its own.

I'm off to Indiana tomorrow for business. I plan to spend my spare time on this trip catching up on all the projects I need to work on - the smut site, the cult, various and sundry other personal projects. I've let myself fall way too far behind on my creative endeavors and I know that's why I feel so... I don't know, blank all the time. Like, I'm doing things, I'm talking, I'm spending time with friends and family, but I'm not really real. I don't mean that in the sense that I'm not being honest and real with people - I am a fucking open book - but I mean that I don't feel like I'm 100% alive.

I aim to fix that. Starting now.

Some things I've learned lately, in a convenient bulleted list:

1. I should never trust my instincts.

2. Allowing myself to be vulnerable emotionally is no longer an option.

3. Meat makes everything better.

I'm away now, not on business. I will be away again, on business, next week. I'm not going to allow it to wear me out and fuck up the rest of my life anymore. More to follow.

Life update: I have traveled to a handful of cities since I last posted. Personal life is going okay, I guess. I don't see my boyfriend often enough and there are issues which need to be discussed but I don't want to discuss them over the phone. My health continues on its precarious path - tests need to be scheduled with an endocrinologist to see what type and dosage of medication I will need. Fun!

I am officially on vacation this week, so I am flying to Vegas for a couple of days to shoot guns and attend a pirate wedding. Oh, and play poker against a bunch of rubes who think they are Phil Helmuth. I will be home Wednesday and Thursday. I think I may kidnap Steph on Wednesday evening and force her to come out to Upland with me to visit my friend at ye olde piercing shoppe, as it has the largest jewelry selection in the state (and probably the country) and I would like something fancy and shiny and bling-y to wear to my mom's for Xmas. Yes, after the Great Xmas Debacle of 2003, I am returning to Tucson for holiday "cheer" and potential family infighting. I think we will need to stay at a hotel that has a) broadband and b) a bar.

Also, I am experiencing incredible inner turmoil and internal conflict at the moment. I think I need to have a completely anonymous journal in which I can write about these things in another "voice", because I have to get this shit out of my head at some point and cannot talk to anyone I know about it. Life would be so much simpler if I were independently wealthy and could live the life of a hermit. If I didn't have to work, I could literally never leave the house and be quite happy. I would just spend all of my time with the love of my life, the internets.

Best place for it: livejournal.

1. YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (Name of first pet / Street you live on):
Whitey Main

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (Name of your favorite snack food / Grandfather's first name): Cornchip Jack

3. YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (First word you see on your left / Favorite resturaunt) Linux Oomasa

4. EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS: (Favorite Spice / Last Foreign Vacation Spot): Jerk Manchester

5. SOCIALITE ALIAS: (Silliest Childhood Nickname / Town Where You First Partied): Palerider Phoenix

6. "FLY Boy" ALIAS (a la J. Lo): (First Initial / First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name): K. Mc.

7. ICON ALIAS: (Something Sweet Within Sight / Any Liquid in Your Kitchen): Chocolate Whisky

8. DETECTIVE ALIAS: (Favorite Baby Animal / Where You Went to High School): Koala Camelback

9. BARFLY ALIAS: (Last Snack Food You Ate / Your Favorite Alcoholic Drink): Stringcheese Singlemalt

10. SOAP OPERA ALIAS: (Middle Name / Street Where You First Lived): Patricia Pleasant

11. ROCK STAR ALIAS: (Favorite Candy /Last Name Of Favorite musician ): Rocher Yorke

Moved over from my blog, because the blog is for real posts. I can put junk posts here. Yeeeah.

Shit I did is in italics, mofo. Stolen from Tony.

01. Bought everyone in the pub a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula.
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Done a striptease
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby's diaper
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse (even if it was only $1)
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill (shhhh!)
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar.
40. Seen a total eclipse. (Through one of those fourth grade cardboard "save your eyes" thingies...)
41. Ridden a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
48. Had two hard drives for your computer
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (maybe now?)
53. Had amazing friends and then some.
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip
59. Rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice
61. Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan
67. Benchpressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records (and CD's and tapes and and and...)
70. Pretended to be a superhero
71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it.
81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movie
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest
100. Ridden a gondola in Venice
101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
120. Been on a cruise ship
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a check (I didn't mean to! But alas, more than once...)
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
132. Called or written your Congress person
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over to be with the one you love
134. ...more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
138. Had plastic surgery
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived.
140. Wrote articles for a large publication
141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone's heart
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone
150. Killed a human being
151. Gone on an African photo safari
152. Ridden a motorcycle
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol If you are stalking me, take note of this one.
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse
158. Had major surgery
159. Had sex on a moving train
160. Had a snake as a pet
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime.
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name
178. Petted a cockroach
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad
181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read.
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions
188. Had sex with someone half your age or twice your age.
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196. Dyed your hair
197. Been a DJ
198. Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
199. Written your own role playing game
200. Been arrested

See all that travel listed in the last post? Yep, I did all of it, with a slight change in the schedule of the NYC/Philly trip. Since the end of June, I have been to San Diego, Toronto, San Diego again, DC, Vegas, San Francisco, Philly, New York, and Orange County (which technically doesn't count as a trip, but fuck, it's in RepublicanLand). I'm home until Tuesday, then it's off to Fairfax, VA, then Philly, Boston, NYC, home, Philly again, and ohmygodIneedanapalready.

Also, I feel like I'm fucking psychotic right now. I'm mostly happy, but it's like I'm on a fucking emotional rollercoaster half the time. I don't know if it's the lack of sleep, or the fact that I either have a pinched nerve or a fucked up muscle in my arm or something like that - I don't know what it is, my arm just hurts like a motherfucker. Maybe it's that my job is a little bit more stressful than I thought it would be, even though I really like this kind of stress and do very well under these kinds of circumstances. Or maybe it's because I live on the other side of the country from the person I love.

Yeah. I think that's it.

I procrastinate constantly. I really must stop doing that. I will. Starting tomorrow.

It's already the 6th of June. Time is sort of flying, not as quickly as I'd like it to. I get to see the boy again on the 30th. Living across the country from someone you're completely smitten with is difficult. I miss him. Damn it. Thank goodness for frequent flyer miles and my travel-fu. Being an airfare ninja has its benefits.

I am relaxing today in preparation for what is expected to be the most hectic week ever at the office. Though I must do laundry at some point - wrinkly clothes do not make for good impressions. Also, I must color my hair. I've got some new, completely unnecessary hair toys - a new Babyliss ionic blow dryer and a ceramic flat iron - so after I color it, I'll blow it straight and shake my head in slow motion and pretend I'm in a Pantene commercial.

In the meantime, while I'm avoiding actually getting dressed and dragging my giant bag o' dirty clothes to the laundry room, I'm planning my trips for summer. Updated itinerary (partially to remind myself, because not all of this is booked yet):

June 26: San Diego, BME BBQ (driving, no overnight stay required)
June 30 - July 3: Toronto, BMEFest & spending time with B & my family (air & hotel booked, must book extra room for the phillykids)
July 23 - 25: San Diego, Comic-con & more B & family time (air for Shawn & Brian booked, hotel booked, must book extra room so it won't be a giant crowd)
July 29 - August 1: Vegas, Trek thing & prebirthday extravaganza. Go Team Leo! (not partially booked. flying. need to book flight. need hotel info from A&W. hotel booked.)
August 8 - August 11: NYC, couchsurfing & working from our NYC office (not booked. ticket is sitting in the FF account. couch that will be surfed confirmed.)
August 11 - August 16: Philly, seeing B & bowling with weirdos & birthday extravaganza. (need to book air, see above; need to book hotel.)

Oh, and I need a cat-sitter for any and all of the above. Good times.