Something tells me I'm in for something good

That song was playing while I was on hold FOREVER w/ this other ofc...and now I'm destined for it to repeat over and over and over and...you get where I'm going with this...until I can't take it anymore. At that point, I'll shout "I can't take it anymore" (like Squints in "The Sandlot"..." oiling and lotioning, lotioning and oiling"...anyone? anyone?) then my head will explode. Yes, just like that.

I'm sleepy today. This is what happens when I stay up past 1130. Isn't that sad? A little, yes, but I can't help that I need a minimum of 7 hours sleep to function properly. It's just the way I was made. I'm still determined to go to the gym after work, even though all I want to do is lie around, zombie like, and watch tv.

I've decided to not be as obsessive. That's it, just another thing I've decided to not be. It's what I do. I wonder if I can keep it up. Stay tuned for updates.

I'm starving. Literally, famished as hell.

Ashley sent me pics of Jake G. w/ a shaved head. He doesn't look good...not at all. It's like everything I've ever known has been wrong....I feel confused/hurt/angry/etc. And Ashley's trying to find a way to pin it on KD. I guarantee it was she said "Jake, you should shave your head so you can look bad like me and then we'll make sense" (or something along those lines). B*tch. I'll scratch her eyes out.
R.

Hit me baby one more motherchucking time

Just read excerpts from the Kevin Federline interview on stereogum...then proceeded to send the link to anyone I knew online. And what response did I get back- "Is this for real?" Yes, my friends, apparantly it is, though I asked myself the same question. Another question that came to mind...did Britney invent a new word- "Motherchuckers"- or am I just out of the loop? Maybe kids everywhere (or all over Kentwood LA and trailer parks in surrounding areas) are going around saying "motherchucking this" and "motherchucking that". And I'm just too old (or educated maybe) to be let in on the fun. This interview proved the idea that people who cuss (curse?) aren't intelligent enough to come up with anything better to say...which would explain why Britney and Sir Federline used either f*ck or b*tch for every other word.
R.

When the giant, intelligent bees of the future sift through the ashes of our civilization...

I read the most hilarious review of the film "Alone in the Dark" this morning in EW. If you're saying to yourself "Never heard of it" you're not alone. Get it...alone. Okay, moving on, the review had this to say:
"Alone stars Christian Slater, Tara Reid, and Stephen Dorff, all of whom do an excellent job maintaining consciousness — okay, except for Reid, who evokes the slower moments of Awakenings".
Oh man, so funny. Awakenings...you kill me Scott Brown.

I just had a bite of the most delicious brownie and now all I want to do is take the plate and start shoveling them into my mouth like a mad woman. But I won't. Because that would be weird. I wish I hadn't even taken a bite, then I wouldn't know the goodness I'm missing. I guess it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

Work is moving as a much slower pace than usual. I kind of like it, but am also entering bored as hell territory. Having a short attention span doesn't provide me w/ the pleasure searching the internet provides for most people. I start to read something and lose interest around paragraph 2. It's only the sound of my own inner voice that keeps me focused.

I have two bday parties on Friday...I'm so popular, I know...but I hate that they're on the same night. I'm not used to this, usually I'm lucky if I have one thing to do, but two? I'm not a machine (whatever the hell that is supposed to mean).

So I'm going to work on my "script" tonight, I think. I started with this idea I thought was amazing/creative/never been done before brilliant, but have now come to realize I'm writing a goddamn romantic comedy. And a bad one, at that. Like "Two if by Sea" bad. I didn't see that movie, I'm just assuming. So yeah...mediocrity. Kind of sucks.
R.

And so it is...

This weekend started off completely horrible, all b/c I'm a big a** baby and have drama queen tendencies. But after I decided just to stay home Friday night (NOT wallowing in my own self pity) and watch movies, my mood changed for the better. The change was gradual, but after watching both "Maria Full of Grace" and "Blue Car" I'd forgotten the woes that had brung me down only hours earlier. Ah, the magic of movies.
Saturday I hiked Runyan Canyon in the morning (listening to Damien Rice along the way...perfect soundtrack for my trek) then went shopping at the Grove that afternoon. It was a total "me" day. And I treated it as such, spending money I don't really have on things I don't really need. My buyer's remorse is still lingering, but the skirt I bought is so effing awesome, it's completely worth the after effect. It's sad how sometimes material things can affect my mood, but I think more importantly than the buying was the act of shopping itself, the walking around outside on a pretty day, not in a rush to be anywhere in particular, stopping to chat w/ Emily via cell phone, getting a smoothie before I left. It was just really relaxing...and speaking of relaxing, on Sunday I met a few friends for brunch then we went to Burke Williams for a spa day. Something I've never done before, mind you, but felt that w/ the impending day designed to make me feel bad for being single (that's right V day, I'm talking about you) I should treat myself to something special. I'm telling you, it was euphoric. I could have stayed for days. If they wouldn't have charged me. I never realized the soothing power of a robe, but I wanted to live in that thing. And to back track for a moment, lunch was so delicious and our waiter was hot (even if we determined, after much observation, that he was undoubtedly gay). I just wish every weekend could be so wonderful. As for the rest of my month, it's bday party after bday party then trip to Vegas. Good times ahead. Hope nothing happens to f*ck them up (foreshadowing, anyone?).
R.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I've reached a low point...blogging outside of work. This whole thing began with me being bored as all hell one day and with no websites left to search, no paper left to file, I turned to you, my blog. Is this a one time thing? Probably. I have dial up at home, it takes 10 minutes to go from one web page to another. In fact, my internet just shut down and I had to restart. I'm resiliant like that. So here I go-
I came home tonight, ready to watch the OC which my roommate taped for me, and felt no desire whatsoever to get my weekly sneak peak into the lives of Ryan, Seth, et al. Me, not wanting to watch tv- something has changed. Question is- will it last? It feels kind of weird not following story lines...I've pretty much stopped watching shows regularly w/in the last month. Does this mean maybe my life is becoming more interesting, thus rendering the storylines on tv (Ryan dating Caleb's secret/not so long lost daughter? Marisa dabbling in lesbianism? And the list goes on...) useless to me? Doubtful. But something has changed. I've been trying to keep busy, I realize the less I do, the more depressed I get. It gives my head too much time to obsess over every mundane thought, focusing mainly on the negative ones. What can I say, I'm a glass half empty kind of girl. If I tried to change this, would I still be me? I can't be happy all the time, it's just not in the cards for me. I do get jealous that some people can, but then the bitter/b*tchy side of me convinces myself that they're not really happy, they're not self aware, they're just faking it. See- glass half empty. Like feeling pain means more than feeling pleasure. Like it's deeper. Because it's always the tortured artist. Van Gogh cut his ear off. Pollock was an alcholic. Mozart was deaf. Maybe I'm completely off here, but are there stories of the artist with the happy childhood, all body parts in place and working, not suffering from debilitating depression? It just wouldn't feel the same, right? Now, if only I were an artist...
Sure. I can't even paint a square. Really, I tried once, decided to make a picture of many different colored squares and I failed. I guess I shouldn't care, it wasn't a great idea in the first place. So I'm not a painter.
I have to do the dishes now. I haven't washed them in days. That's disgusting.
R.

Nipplegate 2005

Strangest thing, but I miss one day of work and when I return, my computer has forgotten every password I've ever saved....as well as all the websites I frequent. It's like it completely forgot me after my one day absence. Honestly, I'm a little hurt...and offended. We spend at least 8 1/2 hours a day together, 5 days a week. Sure, I don't think about it when I'm not here, but I don't erase all memory of it. Okay, I've taken this too far. Moving on...

I watched "Million Dollar Baby" the other night and have to say, it really should win best picture. I've said before that I thought "The Motorcycle Diaries" was the best film of the year, but since it's not nominated, then my vote goes to "Baby." By vote, I mean me saying "I hope it wins" not actually voting. I could try, but I don't think they'd accept it, seeing as how I'm not an academy member. I'm sure you got that, no need for explanation. But anyway, I cried so effing hard at the end, I thought I was going to die. Seriously, cried so hard it hurt. I love a good cry during a movie, but I can't always take that rip your heart out and stomp on it sadness. It's too much for a Monday night. So now I've almost seen every best picture nominee...only "Ray" is left. This will be a historical moment for me. I can opine away at Brad's annual Oscar party knowing that I'm not just talking out of my a**.

Oh, and I luckily avoided a case of accidental nipple slippage earlier today. Let me explain- I'm wearing this silk lingerie like shirt with decorative holes lined down the middle and sides. The holes are small, so you can't really see any skin, right? But I put on a sweater anyway just to be a little more demure (nobody likes the office slut). As I'm working, it starts getting a little warm so I take off my sweater (running from desk to fax machine and back again can be a taxing mini-workout). I feel like what should follow is me taking off my glasses and yanking my hair out it's ponytail and swinging my head around erotically. But that didn't happen. Back to the real story...so then I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror and what should I see...but my left nipple trying to sneak it's way out of one of the holes. Catastophe averted! I put my sweater back on and all is good with the world once again. If anyone's seeing my areolas, I'd better at least be aware of it. Or drunk.
R.

Great Balls of Fire

I'm in such strange mood today. I can't concentrate...can't focus...keep forgetting what I'm doing while I'm in the middle of doing it. My mind keeps wandering. If I were next to a window, I'd be looking out of it.

So this weekend was....fun. Odd. But def fun. On Saturday, went to Civil War Re-enactment in Anaheim. This is not a usual activity for me, but I found it quite hilarious, just the idea of it, and decided to go. No disrespect to the Civil War, but people who live their lives recreating it are f*cking insane. If you ask me. Which you didn't. I'd have to say the highlight of the event...or highlights I should say would have to be 1) When Guiseppe and myself had our picture taken w/ Abraham Lincoln, who acted annoyed as hell for having to stop and pose w/ us civilians...ah, the life of a celebrity and 2) When Guiseppe overheard a little boy (referring to the band of fiddlers and flute players, etc entertaining the masses with their musical skills) exclaimed, "This is my favorite Civil War song!" Mine too, little fella, mine too. On the way home from our trip back in time, we decided to stop at a casino in Commerce, where we played black jack for about an hour and after winning several hands in a row, I ended up leaving $1 down. If you add in my ATM charges, it was more like $4. But who's counting? (I am). So that was my afternoon, much more eventful than usual. That night, went to a bday party for 4 people, two of which I consider friends, one who I met that night, and a mysterious 4th, probably someone I've met many times but can't ever remember their name so I just act like I know them. "Hey, how are you doing?" "What have you been up to?" Just a few examples from my vault of greetings. But the party was fun. Or maybe it wasn't, but I was trashed so it seemed fun to me. Let's just go with it was fun and not ruin my illusion, okay? I just know I spent the night talking to great people...even if at one point someone told me some kind of math problem/riddle ? that I couldn't figure out...and still can't. And kind of can't even remember exactly how it goes. Anyway...I played dance dance revolution for the first time ever and made an a** of myself. Apparantly, I can't follow directions on a screen and dance at the same time. Secretly, I thought I was going to be awesome at it, everyone would start cheering, saying things like "I didn't know Reagan was such an incredible dancer" or "Wow" but that didn't happen. Instead, I last maybe 30 seconds and then stopped "dancing" (loose interpretation of the word, looked more like seizing). I hope I didn't ruin my reputation for being good at everything with that moment of weakness (I'm hilarious). Oh, and I'm joining a dodgball team w/ 4 of my friends. Although I may be one of the weakest 25 year olds I know, I'm competitive as hell, so hopefully this characteristic will help me push through the pain (i.e. getting hit by dodgeballs....that sh*t can sting). Our name, as I suggested w/ Mary's assistance: Great Balls of Fire (see blog title). I can't wait.

Sunday was of course the Superbowl. What really made me laugh (albeit to myself) was that when the game started, I found myself the only one sitting in front of the tv. Me, the girl who walked in and said "Who's playing?" Even though I was hungover as all hell (For Ashley- "Rosebud!") I had a great time watching the game. But not really watching it, more like making jokes about it. After many Paul McCartney half-time nipple slippage comments, we came to the conclusion that what should happen is Sir Paul should play in loin cloth and J Timberlake can rip it off during a sweet rendition of "Hey Jude". Yes, that was our idea. I cheered for the Patriots, basically b/c I turned to my friend and said "Who are we going for?" because I wanted to be able to say "Woo" and "Yeah" when something exciting happened. My favorite exclamation- "Go blue team." I felt that statement said it all.

In conclusion, I'm really tired today.

This is terribly long. So I will stop now.
R.

I rant therefore I am

I broke down at work this morning. By broke down, I mean cried like a d*mn baby. Is this behavior normal for a girl of 25? If I'm going to cry, shouldn't I at least be getting yelled at or having staplers hurled at my head? Not just crying b/c "I'm so stressed out". Uh, I'm such a thumbsucker. I can only hope that someday I'm in a position to make others cry. I always compare the life of an assistant to that of a fraternity hazing. Everybody goes through it and once you're on the other side, you turn right around and do it to the next person. Yep, one big f*cked up frat. Gotta love it.

And this woman's fax machine is not working, so I'm sitting here listening to it attempt to dial the number over and over and over and...you get what I'm saying.

I'm going to try to write a script. Like an actual script, not just 4-5 pages. Why? Because what else do I have to do. But honestly, I think I have a decent idea that could actually possibly be a good idea if I don't f*ck it up. I'm sure I will. I can't write to save my life. It always comes out as if a mentally challenged 12 yr old child from the Sudan (what?) is trying to write the great American novel. It reeks of ambition, but unfortunately doesn't carry the scent of talent.

The woman with the fax- yeah, I just yelled at her. I remember my boss saying that you can't take anything personally b/c you don't know the conversation the person had before you. Does that make sense? While that is true, the woman with the fax should take it personally b/c it's completely her fault.

Back to work. Hi f*cking ho.
R.