Category Archives: boring

Sister Christian, oh the time has come

So my car didn’t start this morning. I feel like that is one of those adult problems that I would have had to deal with sooner or later, but I was hoping to put it off until I had a husband or something. A rich husband who will lend me his Mercedes to drive to work. And by work I mean the manicurist. I don’t work. Not when hubs is rich. I mean, we’re so rich that I call him “hubs,” which is a disgusting word. And yes, WE’RE so rich because there was no prenup because he made it big AFTER we got married. Also, he believes in the power of love because he’s an idiot. There’s no such thing as love.

Point is: Sister Christian (my car) was being a real playa hata this morning. Drinking the Haterade. Flavor? Blue Ice-Cold Bitch.

I think it’s important to add this detail now: it’s Halloween, and my subdued-for-work costume is wearing all black, a black leather jacket, and a Dread Pirate Roberts mask. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more pathetic than someone wearing a Dread Pirate Roberts/catburgler getup staring confusedly at her car and whimpering “Sister Christian, why?” Someone walking a dog passed me as my car sputtered and gave me a slightly amused/sympathetic look. Listen, bitch, you take your doodlepoppypoo and get out of my eye-line. Ya heeeaaard?

Anyway, I took the only course of action I could think of: I popped the hood (a miracle I even knew how to do that) and I pulled up what was probably the dipstick, but who knows. It had schmutz on it, but I’m pretty sure that’s good. I’m not sure if the level of schmutz was good, but I looked at it knowingly anyway. Everything else under the hood looked like car, so I closed it. I tried calling my parents, but they didn’t answer. WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER HAVING PARENTS IF THEY WON’T PICK UP THE PHONE? Useless. Finally, I did the only thing I could do: I turned the key in the ignition and held it there until it started. This was after about 30 seconds of sad sputtering. Awesome.

If you’ve ever been in this position, when your car finally does start, you realize that you went through a whole gamut of emotions: Panic that you’ll be late for work. Calm that there’s an actual excuse for being late to work. Anxiety that you may need to spend a lot of money on your car. Delight in thinking that you can probably take the day off (or lat least a half day). Determination in not letting a machine beat you. Relief when the car finally starts. Confusion when you wonder, “What does this meeeaaan?” And finally depression when you realize that you can go to work and still be on time, but not have enough time to stop at 7-11 for coffee. You win, Sister Christian. You hateful bitch.

I’m making up for my morning’s slow start with pure badassery, though. It’s hard to feel more badass than you do in this moment: wearing black leather and a mask and blaring Jay-Z’s “99 Problems” as you power-stomp past all your coworkers on your way to the bathroom. BLAMMO.

A morning in haikus

Hit the snooze button
Nine minute respite from noise
Then "Mariamba"

Hair dichotomy
Roots like North Sea--drenched in oil
Ends as dry as straw

Chug Emergen-C
Now I feel stronger, better
Placebo effect

Email: spam spam spam
Spam word of the day spam spam
Spam groupon spam spam

Forgoing coffee
Drinking Diet Coke instead
Giving me mad burps

Sun burned lips last week
Chap Stick really does nothing
Salad dressing stings

Here's a "did you know:"
iPhones play old RPGs
Never work again

This post is a waste of time

Bonjour, my precious blueberries. I haven’t updated in forever and a half (not that anyone really cares), but I just…well, I think my brain shut down.

Yesterday, I was a walking zombie. I think I groaned at people when they talked to me. I bathed in coffee, hoping that the caffeine molecules would permeate my cells, but no dice. An inexplicable bout of insomnia has taken over my life. I can’t shut off my brain at night. But it’s not in a smart, overworked genius kind of way, like the Beautiful Mind dude. It’s the dumb kind. Can you O.D. on melatonin pills? Probably. Will it make my skin darker? Nope, google says that melanin. SCIENCE.

But TODAY, I’m like not tired at all. In fact, I’m considering taking a bathroom break with my iPod so I can have a little dance party. It’s risky though, because there’s another girl in the location today. Whatever, if she walks in, I can probably play it off like it’s stretching.

Well, I’m Audi 5000. I hope I have something interesting to say eventually. But did I really ever? (Hint: no).

I’m so full of fun that everyone should be jealous

I really don’t have much to say, so I’m just going to take a swig of this cotton candy vodka and see where life takes me.

Mmmm. It’s like a carnival in my liver.

Behold! This is my eye!

Where did that come from?!


So you know when you’re going to have a houseguest and you’re like, “God, I should probably clean. Or at least fold all these piles of laundry.” But then you think that there’s no point in doing it NOW, since this person is arriving in a week and that’s still plenty of time to re-mess up your place. So you wait. And then things come up and you get lazy and then all of a sudden they’re coming, like, tomorrow. And then you have to decided what’s more important: dignity or watching a couple hours of TV. What I’m saying is that I have no desire to sweep and vacuum.  Whatever, it’s just my sister anyway. And if she wants to stay with me, then she better get used to the tumbleweeds of hair that will be blowing past her while she sleeps. And then…holy crap is that a cut on my hand? When did I cut my hand? Was it when I was cutting cucumbers? Why is it just stinging now? Aaaahhhhh!

Nah, I’m good.

A day in the life

[feel free to play the Beatles song in your head before you read this. Go ahead; I’ll wait. It’s kind of a long one.]

I have an iPhone because, well, because I’m that type of person. I recently downloaded the app “Instagram” which I guess is kind of like Twitter with pictures…? But I don’t care about the social networking part; I just like taking pseudo-artsy pictures and messing around with the filters.

Long story short (too late!). This is a day in my life told through pseudo-artsy pictures. To enhance your art-viewing experience, the pictures will come complete with a title and commentary. Perhaps the commentary will be witty. Not as witty as it SHOULD be, but I’m sober, so we can only ask so much.

Procrastinator's Delight

Some mornings, while at work, I like to make myself a cup of instant oatmeal because that way I can give myself a couple minutes of complete unproductivity (which apparently isn’t a real word. Thanks, red squiggly line. I get it) while I eat…and I also like to eat. This one is Trader Joe’s Apple Cinnamon. It’s pretty awesome.

Working Nine Tah Five

I actually work 8-5, but Dolly Parton didn’t sing a song about that. She did sing a song about a chick named Jolene, but that’s a whole other thing. Anyway, this is a shot of the left side of my desk. See that thurr? That’s mediocre art. And that other thing is a tape measurer. Tools of the art trade, friends.

I'm in a Raaaaage!

I have redefined hell. It is driving north-to-south in Los Angeles during rush hour on a Friday of a holiday weekend. See how my speedometer is at zero, but somehow my RPM is at 1,000? The wheels were powered by my hate, which I think we all know leads to the Dark Side. But it WAS 71 degrees out, and that’s lovely.

Post-Run Show-Offery

My gym is closed for the week for renovations. So I got this brilliant idea in my head that I would try running. I ain’t a runner, folks. My people are of peasant stock. Ask me to till some fields and shear some sheep, and I could probably do it for hours. It’s in my descended-from-serfs blood. Anyway, I went for some sad walk/run hybrid thing. That headband that you see was way too tight because I have a huge head, but I wore it anyway because it makes my hair look cool. I also wore that watch because I’m an idiot and when I got sweaty it got all slippy-slidey. The water bottle is there because I drank water when I got home. Gotta stay hydrated, yo.


Dinner. See how I just use the cup of the Magic Bullet instead of transferring my smoothie-thing into a real bowl? Class should be redefined to be more inclusive of cool people like me.

Friday Night Shenanigans

And this was me about 30 minutes ago. 11:00 PM on a Friday night. Watching Louis C.K. on Netflix, lying prostrate on my bed, filled with too much ennui to move.

My life is boring pt. 1 (of many)

So, I’m not one who believes in omens (except I totally am), but by all accounts, I’m pretty sure today is shaping up to be a not-so-hot day. And I ain’t talking about the weather; it’s supposed to be lovely.

My Thursday started when I was abruptly woken up by a phone call at the ungodly hour of five in the morning. 5 AM shouldn’t exist unless there is a party involved (and even then, you should at least acknowledge how late you’re all up: “Holy god! Have we been drinking for 12 straight hours? Christ! Well, it looks like I won’t be doing anything useful tomorrow”). In all other cases this hour should be slept through and forgotten. But no, there I was, jolted out of a peaceful slumber by the sound of a pinball machine because that’s the ringtone I chose. In a stupor, I accidentally answered the call and promptly hung up. But then it rang again, so I silenced it and let it go to voicemail.

If there’s a sadder noise than a tired and emotionally exhausted 20-something whimpering at a vibrating phone at five in the morning, then I don’t know what it is. Maybe the noise a puppy makes when you kick it–I wouldn’t know, since I don’t kick puppies.

So in the morning, while I’m checking my morning emails (which was all bullshit crap–not even a good groupon that I would think about buying and then not), I check the voicemail. It’s some stupid old woman asking for Louise. I guess she needs a ride to the airport or something? I hope she’s stranded wherever she is FOREVER!

I go back to sleep (though these last 1.5 hours of sleep SUCK), and when I wake up, I go about my normal morning ritual, which involves lying in bed for twenty minutes while watching TV and slurping up breakfast. When I have ten minutes until I have to leave, I get up, get dressed, and go. Normally. And don’t judge me–I’m a night-showerer. And yes, “get dressed” involves face-washing and tooth-brushing, and if makeup needs to be put on, I do that in the car. There. Happy? I justified my behavior to you. God.

But today, as I’m about to leave, I notice that my wallet isn’t in my bag. And I don’t deal well with rational thought in the morning. So instead of thinking, “Oh, it’s probably in my car because it fell out when I was taking out my phone.” I thought, “oh SHIT! It’s probably in Starbucks. Inglewood Starbucks. Super! I had a Menchies card in there and I was THIS CLOSE to getting free frozen yogurt. Also: credit cards! Which I use to buy frozen yogurt until I earn a free one!” So I call Starbucks and it’s not there and then I trash my room as much as someone can trash a room in two minutes.

Of course, I discovered it in my car a couple minutes later when I decided to call it quits and go to work anyway.

Also, someone used all of my coffee creamer and it wasn’t me.

Happy Thursday!