i won't be updating for a while. bitter blogging is fun for no one.
i wrote a letter to my 23rd year. i just need to get the correct zip code before i can send it; i think it's somewhere in d.c.
dear 23:
i just wanted to drop you a line and let you know firsthand that you were the crappiest birthday and year i've ever had.
i won't get into what you gave me for my birthday, and then how you made it out to be my fault, but i'll have you know that the side effects are beginning to wear off. and everyone pretty much agrees with me that he was totally delusional about the whole thing.
thanks for giving my aunt, uncle, grandmother and friend cancer, all at the same time. i really appreciate it.
thanks for letting me know that my chosen career path probably will happen...never.
thanks for the no-help-whatsoever with my family.
thanks for letting my best friends all get relationships that make them move far away from me.
thanks for that extra helping of depression and insecurity; people really like hanging around me. i'm lots of fun and everyone likes me.
thanks for the romantic repellent also; boys really like me, too.
thanks for letting me experience nothing but the downside of being born with my heart permanently saftey-pinned to my sleeve. i really like the sound of people running away from me when i try to tell them how i feel.
most of all, thanks for the oversized portion of guilt, because i know all this shit is my fault anyway.
i can't fucking wait til you're gone,
anne
i wrote a letter to my 23rd year. i just need to get the correct zip code before i can send it; i think it's somewhere in d.c.
dear 23:
i just wanted to drop you a line and let you know firsthand that you were the crappiest birthday and year i've ever had.
i won't get into what you gave me for my birthday, and then how you made it out to be my fault, but i'll have you know that the side effects are beginning to wear off. and everyone pretty much agrees with me that he was totally delusional about the whole thing.
thanks for giving my aunt, uncle, grandmother and friend cancer, all at the same time. i really appreciate it.
thanks for letting me know that my chosen career path probably will happen...never.
thanks for the no-help-whatsoever with my family.
thanks for letting my best friends all get relationships that make them move far away from me.
thanks for that extra helping of depression and insecurity; people really like hanging around me. i'm lots of fun and everyone likes me.
thanks for the romantic repellent also; boys really like me, too.
thanks for letting me experience nothing but the downside of being born with my heart permanently saftey-pinned to my sleeve. i really like the sound of people running away from me when i try to tell them how i feel.
most of all, thanks for the oversized portion of guilt, because i know all this shit is my fault anyway.
i can't fucking wait til you're gone,
anne
posted by gijyun |
6.30.2004
|
|
9:03 AM
it's raining men.
last weekend was pridefest 2004. if you didn't know, denver has more gay residents per capita than san francisco.
our dogs are gay.
we encourage small children to be gay.
we have cowboys who wear obscene tshirts.
we paint the town red. and orange, and yellow, and green...
gay.
gay gay gay.
immediately after we admired this man's ass, my gay friend mark goes, "chocolate makes me break out."
i stopped counting all the fruitcake and fag jokes at about four hundred.
modest mouse is coming to denver.
that is not gay.
the end.
last weekend was pridefest 2004. if you didn't know, denver has more gay residents per capita than san francisco.
our dogs are gay.
we encourage small children to be gay.
we have cowboys who wear obscene tshirts.
we paint the town red. and orange, and yellow, and green...
gay.
gay gay gay.
immediately after we admired this man's ass, my gay friend mark goes, "chocolate makes me break out."
i stopped counting all the fruitcake and fag jokes at about four hundred.
modest mouse is coming to denver.
that is not gay.
the end.
posted by gijyun |
6.29.2004
|
|
9:12 AM
eleven days plus infinity equals never.
one
we had a piano in the house i grew up in, the one with my two brothers and two sisters and mother and father and two cats and one dog and not a ton of money but enough that we took enough car trips to choke a therapist. my mother played moonlight sonata on that piano, constantly. depending on my mood, i would either make up stories in my head to the redundant notes, or wrap the pillow around my head to drown out the sound.
my parents got that house at a cut-throat rate, from what i understand, because someone in the family that lived there before us committed suicide in the master bedroom. my oldest brother and sister have the most vivid recollections of the ghosts we grew up with. i don't know if i believe in ghosts or not, but i believe in the urine that ran down my leg when i was 10-ish and completely frozen with fear when i saw the shadow in the living room get up and walk towards me in the middle of the night. i've since passed that off as an overactive imagination. i'd like to keep it that way.
two and three
my dad's dad drank himself to death a long time ago. his mom drank herself to death shortly after i was born.
four
across the street was a family with two kids and a make-shift above-the-ground swimming pool that provided many, many afternoons and very late summer evenings of rule-breaking that included jumping off the roof and nearby fence into less-than-four foot deep water. one time i held my breath for almost two minutes under water, and beat my cousin who talks too much, by almost 12 seconds.
when i think of that house, i think of shag carpet and dr. pepper.
their daughter, my playmate since birth, was born with an extremely rare genetic disease that to this day i can't pronouce correctly. but it enlarged her spleen to the point that she appeared to be pregnant, and didn't grow. her name was alexis. she liked to sing, she loved kirk cameron, and got nosebleeds a lot.
i was twelve when she died. she was thirteen, and they had just put her on a medicine that would make her look normal. i remember the way her brother's tears were staining his jacket when our parents forced us to console each other; his mom still thinks we're supposed to be married.
five
another family i grew up with has two kids. they used to have three, but their 1st son had heart problems and wasn't expected to live very long. he lived to be almost two. my dad remembers him bouncing on a big ball. not long after that, he died. his parents still visit his grave annually, and get very sad around that time. i've never heard either of their kids talk about this.
six
after my parents divorced, my father and stepmom moved into a house not far from where they live now. they had this wonderful pair of neighbors, a husband and wife, the kind that are always outside gardening, and make sure they wave to you as you drive by, even though they always call you by your sister's name.
a few summers ago, the husband took the dog on a walk in cherry creek state park and shot himself. he was found by a young kid on a bike a few days later, i think. i remember my stepmom breaking the news, and the tone in her voice when she said, "can you imagine...that kind of despair..."
seven
my maternal grandfather was a POW in japan for over three and a half years, and was brutaly tortured for most of it. he suffered from dimentia the rest of his life. my gramma suffered with him. there's a display about him in a museum somewhere in the south. she can tell you where; i always forget the name.
i only have two memories of my grandfather: one is swimming in a lake with my sister, with him at the wheel of an old boat i assume was his. the other is his apartment complex in grand junction, colorado, the ivy in the courtyard, and his hand shaking terribly when he wanted to show me a rock from his rock collection.
i don't know how old i was when he died because no one bothered to tell us. but i was twenty when i found out he was dead. i think.
my gramma sent me cassette tapes of an interview he did about his POW time, and a documentary in which he did the same, titled "memories of hell."
eight
my aunt's mom had dark curly hair. i have a picture of her. she was always smoking. she died a few years ago. my aunt doesn't smoke anymore.
nine
i have a small, pink recliner in my bedroom that i sat in for many days and nights while my stepgrandmother slowly slipped into death. i was with my dad, my stepmom, her three brothers and my two brothers when she died. i had held her hand for a few minutes about an hour before she died. it was soft and warm.
we were watching the princess bride when my youngest brother came out and told us she died. it was around 3:30 in the morning. i wasn't sitting in the pink recliner when she passed; i was lying on the couch.
ten
i found out this weekend that my gramma, who lives with her common-law husband deep, deep, deep in the south, lives in the house where her best friend (her common-law husband's first wife) shot herself.
eleven
i just watched a movie i thought would be cool, and now i feel kind of duped. that's not to say i don't think gus van sant is hot shit; i could still watch good will hunting over and over even though i've decided ben affleck is a prick.
the movie starts with a dad driving his son to high school. after the dad runs into the sidewalk eight hundred times and nearly mames a bike rider, the son makes the dad let him drive the rest of the way. the dad is totally wasted.
fast forward; some slow, real-time shots of this kid walking, of many kids walking. the only background noise is moonlight sonata playing out on a piano.
just about everyone in the movie dies.
one
we had a piano in the house i grew up in, the one with my two brothers and two sisters and mother and father and two cats and one dog and not a ton of money but enough that we took enough car trips to choke a therapist. my mother played moonlight sonata on that piano, constantly. depending on my mood, i would either make up stories in my head to the redundant notes, or wrap the pillow around my head to drown out the sound.
my parents got that house at a cut-throat rate, from what i understand, because someone in the family that lived there before us committed suicide in the master bedroom. my oldest brother and sister have the most vivid recollections of the ghosts we grew up with. i don't know if i believe in ghosts or not, but i believe in the urine that ran down my leg when i was 10-ish and completely frozen with fear when i saw the shadow in the living room get up and walk towards me in the middle of the night. i've since passed that off as an overactive imagination. i'd like to keep it that way.
two and three
my dad's dad drank himself to death a long time ago. his mom drank herself to death shortly after i was born.
four
across the street was a family with two kids and a make-shift above-the-ground swimming pool that provided many, many afternoons and very late summer evenings of rule-breaking that included jumping off the roof and nearby fence into less-than-four foot deep water. one time i held my breath for almost two minutes under water, and beat my cousin who talks too much, by almost 12 seconds.
when i think of that house, i think of shag carpet and dr. pepper.
their daughter, my playmate since birth, was born with an extremely rare genetic disease that to this day i can't pronouce correctly. but it enlarged her spleen to the point that she appeared to be pregnant, and didn't grow. her name was alexis. she liked to sing, she loved kirk cameron, and got nosebleeds a lot.
i was twelve when she died. she was thirteen, and they had just put her on a medicine that would make her look normal. i remember the way her brother's tears were staining his jacket when our parents forced us to console each other; his mom still thinks we're supposed to be married.
five
another family i grew up with has two kids. they used to have three, but their 1st son had heart problems and wasn't expected to live very long. he lived to be almost two. my dad remembers him bouncing on a big ball. not long after that, he died. his parents still visit his grave annually, and get very sad around that time. i've never heard either of their kids talk about this.
six
after my parents divorced, my father and stepmom moved into a house not far from where they live now. they had this wonderful pair of neighbors, a husband and wife, the kind that are always outside gardening, and make sure they wave to you as you drive by, even though they always call you by your sister's name.
a few summers ago, the husband took the dog on a walk in cherry creek state park and shot himself. he was found by a young kid on a bike a few days later, i think. i remember my stepmom breaking the news, and the tone in her voice when she said, "can you imagine...that kind of despair..."
seven
my maternal grandfather was a POW in japan for over three and a half years, and was brutaly tortured for most of it. he suffered from dimentia the rest of his life. my gramma suffered with him. there's a display about him in a museum somewhere in the south. she can tell you where; i always forget the name.
i only have two memories of my grandfather: one is swimming in a lake with my sister, with him at the wheel of an old boat i assume was his. the other is his apartment complex in grand junction, colorado, the ivy in the courtyard, and his hand shaking terribly when he wanted to show me a rock from his rock collection.
i don't know how old i was when he died because no one bothered to tell us. but i was twenty when i found out he was dead. i think.
my gramma sent me cassette tapes of an interview he did about his POW time, and a documentary in which he did the same, titled "memories of hell."
eight
my aunt's mom had dark curly hair. i have a picture of her. she was always smoking. she died a few years ago. my aunt doesn't smoke anymore.
nine
i have a small, pink recliner in my bedroom that i sat in for many days and nights while my stepgrandmother slowly slipped into death. i was with my dad, my stepmom, her three brothers and my two brothers when she died. i had held her hand for a few minutes about an hour before she died. it was soft and warm.
we were watching the princess bride when my youngest brother came out and told us she died. it was around 3:30 in the morning. i wasn't sitting in the pink recliner when she passed; i was lying on the couch.
ten
i found out this weekend that my gramma, who lives with her common-law husband deep, deep, deep in the south, lives in the house where her best friend (her common-law husband's first wife) shot herself.
eleven
i just watched a movie i thought would be cool, and now i feel kind of duped. that's not to say i don't think gus van sant is hot shit; i could still watch good will hunting over and over even though i've decided ben affleck is a prick.
the movie starts with a dad driving his son to high school. after the dad runs into the sidewalk eight hundred times and nearly mames a bike rider, the son makes the dad let him drive the rest of the way. the dad is totally wasted.
fast forward; some slow, real-time shots of this kid walking, of many kids walking. the only background noise is moonlight sonata playing out on a piano.
just about everyone in the movie dies.
posted by gijyun |
6.27.2004
|
|
10:23 PM
plying my wares somewhere else
13 days...just like the movie except without the cubans, missiles, or crises.
you know you've officially arrived in the blogsphere when someone hates you. interestingly, my AIM screenname is jezabel245, a name i chose when i was like, 17, because i loved that poe song angry johnny.
i always get asked where the 245 comes from, in my email address and most of my handles; remember pagers? that was my code, because it's my initials on the phone pad. in my own defense, i've had all of those handles since 1997.
click on the pic of yours truly above to see charges taking charge with the italy photos; you can see me looking horrid next to my way-hotter sisters. my photos are uploaded to a sony server somewhere, but i can't get the captions right, so it'll continue to be a while.
i got to see napolean dynomite last night. suffice to say that i, too, am a fan.
my favorite part of my day is when my best friend calls me at work and goes, "IS JAAANE THERE?!..THANK YOU!" i initially hated that movie, but have since taken a vicarious liking.
plans for the weekend? nada. but i'm open to suggestions, especially ones that include kissing.
13 days...just like the movie except without the cubans, missiles, or crises.
you know you've officially arrived in the blogsphere when someone hates you. interestingly, my AIM screenname is jezabel245, a name i chose when i was like, 17, because i loved that poe song angry johnny.
i always get asked where the 245 comes from, in my email address and most of my handles; remember pagers? that was my code, because it's my initials on the phone pad. in my own defense, i've had all of those handles since 1997.
click on the pic of yours truly above to see charges taking charge with the italy photos; you can see me looking horrid next to my way-hotter sisters. my photos are uploaded to a sony server somewhere, but i can't get the captions right, so it'll continue to be a while.
i got to see napolean dynomite last night. suffice to say that i, too, am a fan.
my favorite part of my day is when my best friend calls me at work and goes, "IS JAAANE THERE?!..THANK YOU!" i initially hated that movie, but have since taken a vicarious liking.
plans for the weekend? nada. but i'm open to suggestions, especially ones that include kissing.
posted by gijyun |
6.25.2004
|
|
9:38 AM
14 days.
what's a good cure for apathy?
my friend just called to tell me how she finally hooked up with this guy she works with that she's been in love with forever, and gave him a bj behind the bar after it closed.
after i pointed out how gross i think that is, how he has a girlfriend, and does she have any idea how much it hurts to find shit like that out from the other end, and that it sounds like this guy got a pretty good deal, and what's it gonna be like at work now, she said:
wow, you really know how to kill a good time.
the good times are killing me.
what's a good cure for apathy?
my friend just called to tell me how she finally hooked up with this guy she works with that she's been in love with forever, and gave him a bj behind the bar after it closed.
after i pointed out how gross i think that is, how he has a girlfriend, and does she have any idea how much it hurts to find shit like that out from the other end, and that it sounds like this guy got a pretty good deal, and what's it gonna be like at work now, she said:
wow, you really know how to kill a good time.
the good times are killing me.
posted by gijyun |
6.24.2004
|
|
8:59 AM
never trust a teetotaler
when my sister used that word this morning, i did some research and found this:
whatever.
the good news is that i didn't get fired yesterday. the bad news is that they didn't offer me $150 K a year with a time share in malibu, which i think is kind of selfish on their part.
thanks to the good master of thighs, i got two free passes to see a sneak peek at napolean dynamite tomorrow. my sister kindly reminded me last night that that's an elvis c. song. now if he could just get me two tickets to elvis c., i'd stop whining, or at least remove the metaphorical pistol from my mustached head.
when my sister used that word this morning, i did some research and found this:
whatever.
the good news is that i didn't get fired yesterday. the bad news is that they didn't offer me $150 K a year with a time share in malibu, which i think is kind of selfish on their part.
thanks to the good master of thighs, i got two free passes to see a sneak peek at napolean dynamite tomorrow. my sister kindly reminded me last night that that's an elvis c. song. now if he could just get me two tickets to elvis c., i'd stop whining, or at least remove the metaphorical pistol from my mustached head.
posted by gijyun |
6.23.2004
|
|
8:54 AM
tuesday schmoozday
i got up uber-early this morning to get all professional-like for a lunch today with my editor and his boss. should i really be getting fired, i sent them a round-up invoice.
also, in all three of my posts today, i quoted classic FoW wordage, and had to email my editor an explanation. i hope uncle grambo understands and/or appreciates the D™ II's love for the D™.
but really, i'm just side-stepping yet another music festival heartbreak. fortuna finds it not fulfilling that ben folds, guster and rufus wainwright decide that denver isn't cool enough for their stupid tri-tour, or that i HAD to go to europe when sondre lerche came to town, or that just about everything else gets kaboched. i had to talk to my stoopervisor today to tell him that those unpaid days off in august were no longer necessary, as lollapalooza has been cancelled.
i went to see dodgeball last night with my drunk friend, who insisted on leaving the theater right as the credits started. of course, i find out this morning from S.E. the best part is at the end of the credits.
the country is still headed directly for the pooper.
everyone hates franz ferdinand (check out the effing battle in karen's comments. geez.).
fuck it. the only thing that could make this day more stomach-tying would be to have to incorporate a third computer into my already-equipment cramped office.
oh wait...
i got up uber-early this morning to get all professional-like for a lunch today with my editor and his boss. should i really be getting fired, i sent them a round-up invoice.
also, in all three of my posts today, i quoted classic FoW wordage, and had to email my editor an explanation. i hope uncle grambo understands and/or appreciates the D™ II's love for the D™.
but really, i'm just side-stepping yet another music festival heartbreak. fortuna finds it not fulfilling that ben folds, guster and rufus wainwright decide that denver isn't cool enough for their stupid tri-tour, or that i HAD to go to europe when sondre lerche came to town, or that just about everything else gets kaboched. i had to talk to my stoopervisor today to tell him that those unpaid days off in august were no longer necessary, as lollapalooza has been cancelled.
i went to see dodgeball last night with my drunk friend, who insisted on leaving the theater right as the credits started. of course, i find out this morning from S.E. the best part is at the end of the credits.
the country is still headed directly for the pooper.
everyone hates franz ferdinand (check out the effing battle in karen's comments. geez.).
fuck it. the only thing that could make this day more stomach-tying would be to have to incorporate a third computer into my already-equipment cramped office.
oh wait...
posted by gijyun |
6.22.2004
|
|
10:16 AM
17 days of fun-filled sobriety. starting not to count anymore.
what a weekend! on friday night, i tackled one thing on a list of many things i'd like to do before i die:
1. move to a huge city all by my lonesome.
2. purchase property (y'know, just a little place for myself).
3. see many now-defunct bands play live.
4. become a famous rock star.
i got to see mike doughty live this weekend; you can find a rather on-point discussion of the boulder show here.
simply because i'm down to a select handful of people whom i enjoy spending sober-time with, and 99% weren't available on saturday night (one of them lives in north carolina), i made a last-minute decision (around 9:15) to see if the dove might have any doughty tickets left. seeing as how this rather comfortable venue is mere blocks away from my rental home, it was worth a shot. and it paid...
the saturday show was considerably better than the friday one, only because doughty himself wasn't suffering from a migraine (that, to be honest, he kind of mentally delegated to the boulder crowd on friday). the soiled dove is a cozy, personal venue, complete with seats and club soda cocktail service. i wished that i could've traded friday's arrangements for saturday's venue. ah well. i, too, fear that i'm a horrible date.
on the lighter side, i got to stick around on saturday, and bug mike doughty for a snap.
his ego, albeit personable and charming, is in there somewhere. i'm not pointing at him, i'm giving the ole' rock-n-roll signal...but a good shot, anyway.
yesterday was family fun time for father's day, but less awkward than i had expected. life in denial is so easy. we painted and cleared my deceased step-grandmother's home to get it ready to sell, and had a mexican food feast. can't complain, though when you find little things like notes that step-gramma had written to herself, it kicks you in the stomach and makes you miss her even more.
i got a new bed this weekend. i've progressed from a frameless futon matress, to a futon, to an uncomfortable paper-thin mattress circa 1960 that i got for free, to a lavish, swallow-me-up top quality pillow-top set, the kind you have to heave yourself onto because it's so tall. and sturdy. combine that with soft, freshly-cleaned sheets and a shower before you go to bed, and you might know what a little piece of heaven is like. i had a very hard time getting up for work this morning.
some one else enjoys the new bed just as much as i do:
i challenge anyone to convince me that's not the cutest fucking dog they've ever seen.
there was a huge thunderstorm at about 2 am last night right over my house, the kind that makes you wake up and unplug your computer.
def poets' new season started last night.
uncle grambo, my sister (through a 7:13 a.m. voicemail), and just this moring, my friend, have all dissed FF. i'm not losing faith just yet.
finally, as i should stop ignoring this pile of numbers and papers next to my keyboard and non-existant coffee cup, charges called me early friday eve. she has this wackjob idea that this bible should start offering advice via the white devil himself. if you have any questions that you'd like answered by a white, late 20-something porn-industry professional who takes likings to young girls and expensive cars, email me.
what a weekend! on friday night, i tackled one thing on a list of many things i'd like to do before i die:
1. move to a huge city all by my lonesome.
2. purchase property (y'know, just a little place for myself).
3. see many now-defunct bands play live.
4. become a famous rock star.
i got to see mike doughty live this weekend; you can find a rather on-point discussion of the boulder show here.
simply because i'm down to a select handful of people whom i enjoy spending sober-time with, and 99% weren't available on saturday night (one of them lives in north carolina), i made a last-minute decision (around 9:15) to see if the dove might have any doughty tickets left. seeing as how this rather comfortable venue is mere blocks away from my rental home, it was worth a shot. and it paid...
the saturday show was considerably better than the friday one, only because doughty himself wasn't suffering from a migraine (that, to be honest, he kind of mentally delegated to the boulder crowd on friday). the soiled dove is a cozy, personal venue, complete with seats and club soda cocktail service. i wished that i could've traded friday's arrangements for saturday's venue. ah well. i, too, fear that i'm a horrible date.
on the lighter side, i got to stick around on saturday, and bug mike doughty for a snap.
his ego, albeit personable and charming, is in there somewhere. i'm not pointing at him, i'm giving the ole' rock-n-roll signal...but a good shot, anyway.
yesterday was family fun time for father's day, but less awkward than i had expected. life in denial is so easy. we painted and cleared my deceased step-grandmother's home to get it ready to sell, and had a mexican food feast. can't complain, though when you find little things like notes that step-gramma had written to herself, it kicks you in the stomach and makes you miss her even more.
i got a new bed this weekend. i've progressed from a frameless futon matress, to a futon, to an uncomfortable paper-thin mattress circa 1960 that i got for free, to a lavish, swallow-me-up top quality pillow-top set, the kind you have to heave yourself onto because it's so tall. and sturdy. combine that with soft, freshly-cleaned sheets and a shower before you go to bed, and you might know what a little piece of heaven is like. i had a very hard time getting up for work this morning.
some one else enjoys the new bed just as much as i do:
i challenge anyone to convince me that's not the cutest fucking dog they've ever seen.
there was a huge thunderstorm at about 2 am last night right over my house, the kind that makes you wake up and unplug your computer.
def poets' new season started last night.
uncle grambo, my sister (through a 7:13 a.m. voicemail), and just this moring, my friend, have all dissed FF. i'm not losing faith just yet.
finally, as i should stop ignoring this pile of numbers and papers next to my keyboard and non-existant coffee cup, charges called me early friday eve. she has this wackjob idea that this bible should start offering advice via the white devil himself. if you have any questions that you'd like answered by a white, late 20-something porn-industry professional who takes likings to young girls and expensive cars, email me.
posted by gijyun |
6.21.2004
|
|
9:06 AM
friday. 19 days.
that's about as exciting as i've become. i can't post any pictures because i'm working from a mac (how, in he name of all that is holy, do you right-click on an image to save it when you only have one mouse button? i swear macintosh has it out for me...damn you, fruity machine!).
i'm seeing mike doughty tonight; with a cute boy, no less. how did i get so lucky?
my editor emailed me yesterday and said he'd like to take me out to lunch because his boss wants to meet me. i'm either getting fired, or he really just wants to meet me. wish me luck.
that's about as exciting as i've become. i can't post any pictures because i'm working from a mac (how, in he name of all that is holy, do you right-click on an image to save it when you only have one mouse button? i swear macintosh has it out for me...damn you, fruity machine!).
i'm seeing mike doughty tonight; with a cute boy, no less. how did i get so lucky?
my editor emailed me yesterday and said he'd like to take me out to lunch because his boss wants to meet me. i'm either getting fired, or he really just wants to meet me. wish me luck.
posted by gijyun |
6.18.2004
|
|
1:10 PM
this blog is so boring ever since i became ultragrrrl.
20 days and counting.
i'm quite aware of these similarities, and i swear it's not on purpose.
last night after a hard day's work, i was already in my pajamas at about quarter to six when my cell phone rang. it was my "little" brother (you'll understand the need for the quotes in just a sec), asking if i was home, and was it okay if he and my mad scientist older brother parked at my house and i drove them to coors' field for the rockies v. red sox game.
sure.
as i was walking out of my house, i made the comment that while i don't mind running their personal errands and saving them money, it wouldn't kill them to invite their sister once and a while on these adventures. it worked, because they traded in their awsome pair of ground level section behind-third-base tickets for a triplet of tickets way out in left field (i know as much about baseball as i do about budgeting). and i figure, while i'm pretending to be sara lewitinn, i might as well pretend to be brian battjer, as well.
my little brother just recently turned 21.
the brothers lynn.
my "little" brother
he gets inspired really easily...
i mean, really easily.
denver's always been known to nurture diversity.
Man Ram.
we were in a pretty good spot to catch a home run; unfortunately, out of the gazillion that actually went in the stands, they only went directly to the right or left of us.
i made my older brother pretend to pose for a snap to get a shot of this guy's most awsomest mullet in the whole world.
brothers.
rally cappin-- this phenomenon had to be explained to me.
america's favorite pastime = $7 beers, of which i had none. i got a coke.
me and alex in denver.
me and alex in italy.
yay baseball!
i got the new killers cd (see? ultra-madness) yesterday, and have already reserved my ticket for the 16th of july. rawk. i love "everything will be alright" so much it hurts a lot.
pee ess: drop dead fred = "just do it, no-brain."
20 days and counting.
i'm quite aware of these similarities, and i swear it's not on purpose.
last night after a hard day's work, i was already in my pajamas at about quarter to six when my cell phone rang. it was my "little" brother (you'll understand the need for the quotes in just a sec), asking if i was home, and was it okay if he and my mad scientist older brother parked at my house and i drove them to coors' field for the rockies v. red sox game.
sure.
as i was walking out of my house, i made the comment that while i don't mind running their personal errands and saving them money, it wouldn't kill them to invite their sister once and a while on these adventures. it worked, because they traded in their awsome pair of ground level section behind-third-base tickets for a triplet of tickets way out in left field (i know as much about baseball as i do about budgeting). and i figure, while i'm pretending to be sara lewitinn, i might as well pretend to be brian battjer, as well.
my little brother just recently turned 21.
the brothers lynn.
my "little" brother
he gets inspired really easily...
i mean, really easily.
denver's always been known to nurture diversity.
Man Ram.
we were in a pretty good spot to catch a home run; unfortunately, out of the gazillion that actually went in the stands, they only went directly to the right or left of us.
i made my older brother pretend to pose for a snap to get a shot of this guy's most awsomest mullet in the whole world.
brothers.
rally cappin-- this phenomenon had to be explained to me.
america's favorite pastime = $7 beers, of which i had none. i got a coke.
me and alex in denver.
me and alex in italy.
yay baseball!
i got the new killers cd (see? ultra-madness) yesterday, and have already reserved my ticket for the 16th of july. rawk. i love "everything will be alright" so much it hurts a lot.
pee ess: drop dead fred = "just do it, no-brain."
posted by gijyun |
6.17.2004
|
|
8:44 AM
21 days, bitch.
that's as many years as it takes to drink alcohol legally.
i'll admit, i used to have a problem stomaching sushi, but recently, it's grown on me like nobody's bidnisss.
opal used to be my digs, because i know someone who knows someone (don't bother asking if you go in, because you'll look like an ass, not to mention blow up my spot). it's a good way to lose friends and alienate people.
i gave up on that book months ago (/read because i thought my roommate stole it), but have recently given it another go. we'll see; toby young still seems like a huge jackass.
but if you're in denver, i suggest checking opal out. 9th & lincoln. they have two happy hours a day, and $2.50 big ass bottles of kirin ichiban. i was in there yesterday for the first time in what seems a long, dry time.
i not-so-discretely inserted an homage to Drop Dead Fred (quite possibly one of the world's best films) into my post entries today; you'll get a prize if you find it.
scott at stereogum has kindly linked the stream to wilco's a ghost is born. i've had a special friend yapping about them for a few weeks now, and i can safely say that i will gladly hog that bandwidth for the rest of the week and listen to them constantly. i might even buy some sheeeiit. i suggest you do the same.
further, those girls that everyone keeps talking about (HA-- i just checked and it's like one girl and five guys) covered my new boyfriends' (see FF, 6/9) hit song. aight, i guess, just wish i'da thought of it first.
immitation continues to remain as the most sincere form of flattery. i've been immitating myself for weeks now...
that's as many years as it takes to drink alcohol legally.
i'll admit, i used to have a problem stomaching sushi, but recently, it's grown on me like nobody's bidnisss.
opal used to be my digs, because i know someone who knows someone (don't bother asking if you go in, because you'll look like an ass, not to mention blow up my spot). it's a good way to lose friends and alienate people.
i gave up on that book months ago (/read because i thought my roommate stole it), but have recently given it another go. we'll see; toby young still seems like a huge jackass.
but if you're in denver, i suggest checking opal out. 9th & lincoln. they have two happy hours a day, and $2.50 big ass bottles of kirin ichiban. i was in there yesterday for the first time in what seems a long, dry time.
i not-so-discretely inserted an homage to Drop Dead Fred (quite possibly one of the world's best films) into my post entries today; you'll get a prize if you find it.
scott at stereogum has kindly linked the stream to wilco's a ghost is born. i've had a special friend yapping about them for a few weeks now, and i can safely say that i will gladly hog that bandwidth for the rest of the week and listen to them constantly. i might even buy some sheeeiit. i suggest you do the same.
further, those girls that everyone keeps talking about (HA-- i just checked and it's like one girl and five guys) covered my new boyfriends' (see FF, 6/9) hit song. aight, i guess, just wish i'da thought of it first.
immitation continues to remain as the most sincere form of flattery. i've been immitating myself for weeks now...
posted by gijyun |
6.16.2004
|
|
9:13 AM
22 days.
that's six less days than sandra bullock had to shell out in that sucky movie. progress, progress.
i got the okay from mike doughty's hq to take photos at the show this friday. i've heard more than one story about how he's often lost his temper at audience members, and i'm wondering if it's worth my time to do something obnoxious to provoke him...
nah. unless i can get pics of me being arrested; stuff like that's always fun if you can avoid getting caught.
apparently, someone in italy agreed with me so much they wrote it on a wall.
i've never been much of a risk taker, a gambler (actually, that's because no one will play with me anymore because of 'past occurences' of me either not paying up or cheating) or even an outdoor-type sports person, but i feel a def groove comin' on.
maybe i'll be blogging from colorado's own east canon city correction facility come next week.
making the best of evening n' weekend free long distance minutes:
charges:
do you think that's okay? that two people with totally fucked up childhoods could be together?
gijyun:
yeah.
charges:
but how is that possibly feasible?
gijyun:
because fucked up childhoods usually produce relatively normal people.
charges:
oh. you should post that.
gijyun:
...mmmkay.
that's six less days than sandra bullock had to shell out in that sucky movie. progress, progress.
i got the okay from mike doughty's hq to take photos at the show this friday. i've heard more than one story about how he's often lost his temper at audience members, and i'm wondering if it's worth my time to do something obnoxious to provoke him...
nah. unless i can get pics of me being arrested; stuff like that's always fun if you can avoid getting caught.
apparently, someone in italy agreed with me so much they wrote it on a wall.
i've never been much of a risk taker, a gambler (actually, that's because no one will play with me anymore because of 'past occurences' of me either not paying up or cheating) or even an outdoor-type sports person, but i feel a def groove comin' on.
maybe i'll be blogging from colorado's own east canon city correction facility come next week.
making the best of evening n' weekend free long distance minutes:
charges:
do you think that's okay? that two people with totally fucked up childhoods could be together?
gijyun:
yeah.
charges:
but how is that possibly feasible?
gijyun:
because fucked up childhoods usually produce relatively normal people.
charges:
oh. you should post that.
gijyun:
...mmmkay.
posted by gijyun |
6.15.2004
|
|
11:05 AM
i'm easy like monday morning
23 days: circular...feeling the flow...workin it.
for a pretty good infusion of sweet tunes and a sweet-toothed soundtrack sample, go and visit boy with an oversized heart's post for the two frames downloads. while i already have a kick-ass live version of lay me down, one of those songs that i like to uh...take a shower to, star-star is a good replacement breakfast on a monday after the first great weekend in a loooong time.
p. diddy would be so proud.
i first saw these irish fellas in boulder opening up for another irish fella and had never seen either before. i remember vividly being left speechless after the frames' set, you know, where the only thing you can say is "ohmygod, that was awesome."
as i continue to replace alcohol with music, i've got a lone ticket to see an ex-smack-junkie in boulder on friday, and am debating on whether or not to take the dive to beulah tomorrow. i don't remember who told me that going sober for a month would save me oodles of dough, but they lied like a sober rug.
speaking of coincidences (?), denver bloggas are very charming (one of which happens to be working on mike doughty's new website. small world, i tell you. small, small ass world).
it's a good week i've got to look forward to. by the show on friday, it'll almost mark the half-way point of my non-spiritual sober marathon. people keep telling me how much better i'm going to feel; definitely have not experienced that yet.
but, as per usual, i remain forever optimistic.
now, in case any one questions my motives.
23 days: circular...feeling the flow...workin it.
for a pretty good infusion of sweet tunes and a sweet-toothed soundtrack sample, go and visit boy with an oversized heart's post for the two frames downloads. while i already have a kick-ass live version of lay me down, one of those songs that i like to uh...take a shower to, star-star is a good replacement breakfast on a monday after the first great weekend in a loooong time.
p. diddy would be so proud.
i first saw these irish fellas in boulder opening up for another irish fella and had never seen either before. i remember vividly being left speechless after the frames' set, you know, where the only thing you can say is "ohmygod, that was awesome."
as i continue to replace alcohol with music, i've got a lone ticket to see an ex-smack-junkie in boulder on friday, and am debating on whether or not to take the dive to beulah tomorrow. i don't remember who told me that going sober for a month would save me oodles of dough, but they lied like a sober rug.
speaking of coincidences (?), denver bloggas are very charming (one of which happens to be working on mike doughty's new website. small world, i tell you. small, small ass world).
it's a good week i've got to look forward to. by the show on friday, it'll almost mark the half-way point of my non-spiritual sober marathon. people keep telling me how much better i'm going to feel; definitely have not experienced that yet.
but, as per usual, i remain forever optimistic.
now, in case any one questions my motives.
posted by gijyun |
6.14.2004
|
|
7:55 AM
payday
26 days and counting...
on what might be the most beautiful day i've ever seen (seriously, this kind of denver weather is not to be missed), i woke up this morning after having sweet sweet dreams about the lead singer from franz ferdinand, and those tight european pants.
or maybe it was a dream about ripped denim vests, excruciating facial expressions, and bad hair. i'm talking about rock.
i'm talking about getting rocked. rock me.
i wasn't going to post any pictures in an "if you weren't there, you missed out" fashion, but really, i left my camera at work, so here you go:
this young man was totally robbed by some long-haired freak from mobile, alabama.
after two tall club sodas with lime (it's fun to pretend like you're drinking, i swear i almost caught a buzz), i went to sleep looking forward to a short day at work today and a large pack of gum, and a large portion of reflection.
i came across this (from the infamous sara b., no relation to summer b.). ETA: one year.
i have no idea where this came from. feel free to peruse elsewhere.
"i'm pumped. let's let the healing begin."
in the last few weeks, i've come horrifyingly within inches of phoning the ex in D.C., only to respond to the email he sent me months ago, but i figure nah...best to let him wonder. i don't really want to know what's going on with him anyway, and oddly, every time i get ready to call him i'm intercepted by what some might consider a 'sign'.
whether he believes me or not, i've never lied to any boy i've dated, much less cheated on them. i have serious, SERIOUS boundaries with trust, so much so that my friends poke fun at me because i swear i've never cheated on anyone in my life, and further, it makes me sad that most people have. i think it's probably one of the most disgusting things you can do, especially if you're an eighteen year old boy, and you have sex with your girlfriend's friend, get her pregnant, and then make a dirty video with a fourteen year old girl and let it circulate about the school.
oh, i remember the fine day in high school that brought me the pleasure of watching my first love bone a fourteen year old girl when he was supposed to be picking me up from practice. on video tape. two days after i um, lost my um..to him...never mind. my stomach already hurts just thinking about it.
even the football coaches saw it, and cheered him on. fucking bastards. if i had a right mind six years ago, i'd be so filthy fucking rich from having sued their asses so badly they'd need to ask me for money to buy new ones.
real life often preludes the best jerry springer episodes.
i still have a text message or two saved on my cell phone to remind myself why it's not a good idea to rehash old shit with the most recent ex:
1: YOU WORTHLESS WHORE
2: I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY
and then, of course the proverbial:
3: with love, forgive me, i miss and love you so
4: i'll always love you
nah, i'm pretty much over the whole "forgiving" thing. i've done it too many times.
all embarassment
in addition to the talk
in each crowded court there's a spot where i fall in love and
short
on public demand
there are no words they can't hear
stupid memory
must you bring up these things?
-s. lerche
**if you still read this, which you might, i am happy. and i'm glad you miss me.**
26 days and counting...
on what might be the most beautiful day i've ever seen (seriously, this kind of denver weather is not to be missed), i woke up this morning after having sweet sweet dreams about the lead singer from franz ferdinand, and those tight european pants.
or maybe it was a dream about ripped denim vests, excruciating facial expressions, and bad hair. i'm talking about rock.
i'm talking about getting rocked. rock me.
i wasn't going to post any pictures in an "if you weren't there, you missed out" fashion, but really, i left my camera at work, so here you go:
this young man was totally robbed by some long-haired freak from mobile, alabama.
after two tall club sodas with lime (it's fun to pretend like you're drinking, i swear i almost caught a buzz), i went to sleep looking forward to a short day at work today and a large pack of gum, and a large portion of reflection.
i came across this (from the infamous sara b., no relation to summer b.). ETA: one year.
i have no idea where this came from. feel free to peruse elsewhere.
"i'm pumped. let's let the healing begin."
in the last few weeks, i've come horrifyingly within inches of phoning the ex in D.C., only to respond to the email he sent me months ago, but i figure nah...best to let him wonder. i don't really want to know what's going on with him anyway, and oddly, every time i get ready to call him i'm intercepted by what some might consider a 'sign'.
whether he believes me or not, i've never lied to any boy i've dated, much less cheated on them. i have serious, SERIOUS boundaries with trust, so much so that my friends poke fun at me because i swear i've never cheated on anyone in my life, and further, it makes me sad that most people have. i think it's probably one of the most disgusting things you can do, especially if you're an eighteen year old boy, and you have sex with your girlfriend's friend, get her pregnant, and then make a dirty video with a fourteen year old girl and let it circulate about the school.
oh, i remember the fine day in high school that brought me the pleasure of watching my first love bone a fourteen year old girl when he was supposed to be picking me up from practice. on video tape. two days after i um, lost my um..to him...never mind. my stomach already hurts just thinking about it.
even the football coaches saw it, and cheered him on. fucking bastards. if i had a right mind six years ago, i'd be so filthy fucking rich from having sued their asses so badly they'd need to ask me for money to buy new ones.
real life often preludes the best jerry springer episodes.
i still have a text message or two saved on my cell phone to remind myself why it's not a good idea to rehash old shit with the most recent ex:
1: YOU WORTHLESS WHORE
2: I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY
and then, of course the proverbial:
3: with love, forgive me, i miss and love you so
4: i'll always love you
nah, i'm pretty much over the whole "forgiving" thing. i've done it too many times.
all embarassment
in addition to the talk
in each crowded court there's a spot where i fall in love and
short
on public demand
there are no words they can't hear
stupid memory
must you bring up these things?
-s. lerche
**if you still read this, which you might, i am happy. and i'm glad you miss me.**
posted by gijyun |
6.11.2004
|
|
8:59 AM
midday traffic
26 and a half days, and counting...
behold the newtang clan
courtesty zach de la roachclip (linkage?), via thighmaster, and then my graphic designer friend who is obviously as inspired at work today as i am.
26 and a half days, and counting...
behold the newtang clan
courtesty zach de la roachclip (linkage?), via thighmaster, and then my graphic designer friend who is obviously as inspired at work today as i am.
posted by gijyun |
6.10.2004
|
|
2:47 PM
TAKE ME OUT.
27 days and counting
FF at the bluebird, denver, 6/9/04
ain't nothin' like seeing a bad-ass rock show stone coooooold sober.
here's some observations:
1. estimated amount of money saved on booze, smokes, and possible cab ride home: $50
2. nevermind getting there early. you forget that you don't have to allot that pre-show drinking time if you're not drinking.
3. trips to the bathroom: 0
4. strangely, i was not convinced that i am destined to end up with any one of the band mates.
5. was not paranoid in the car ride home whilst searching for police officers.
6. woke up this morning, sans-hangover.
see? aside from the 'spiritual' benefits of sobriety, there are logistical benefits, too, however i might need a leetle beet more than will power for tonight's fiasco.
i'm not retarded after all
it only took a few weeks, but i finally downloaded all my shots from l'italia. charges and i will shortly be putting together some fancy schmancy online photo album, to which i will link, but for now, here's yours truly, a christian sister and a sex kitten, loving it up in europa.
27 days and counting
FF at the bluebird, denver, 6/9/04
ain't nothin' like seeing a bad-ass rock show stone coooooold sober.
here's some observations:
1. estimated amount of money saved on booze, smokes, and possible cab ride home: $50
2. nevermind getting there early. you forget that you don't have to allot that pre-show drinking time if you're not drinking.
3. trips to the bathroom: 0
4. strangely, i was not convinced that i am destined to end up with any one of the band mates.
5. was not paranoid in the car ride home whilst searching for police officers.
6. woke up this morning, sans-hangover.
see? aside from the 'spiritual' benefits of sobriety, there are logistical benefits, too, however i might need a leetle beet more than will power for tonight's fiasco.
i'm not retarded after all
it only took a few weeks, but i finally downloaded all my shots from l'italia. charges and i will shortly be putting together some fancy schmancy online photo album, to which i will link, but for now, here's yours truly, a christian sister and a sex kitten, loving it up in europa.
breakfast of champions
i'm not one to brag, but you know you want some.
all i ever needed was a towel
in all the books i've read, in all the novels and non-fiction, every spell-bound story with a binding, there are always those that stay with you and eat at your rotten insides, either giving you hope or squashing it.
i love ford perfect with every ounce of the heart on my sleeve, and one of my many ex-musical lovers will take on his role.
mos def is starring in a film-version of douglas adam's hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy.
a true love story
my beloved urban cow town is known for it's right fundamentals, temperate climate, and denying homos equal employee rights back in like, '90. if you'll notice, along denver's lines of snowplowing and urban revitalization, there had never been any room for what some understand to be "real" hip hop.
we left that to boulder.
needless to say, when mos def presents himself to a doe-eyed, eternally optimistic young cow-town-urban-like teenaged girl who spent most of her time nurturing her inner hippy, you can imagine the results.
i would only (ONLY) listen to mos def in my car or in my room with the door shut, for fear that someone might "question my authenticity." i never went so far as to wear baggy pants and a bandana, and frankly, i was quite comfortable with breaking social molds.
i still appreciate the look on people's faces when they hear how much i used to know about him.
i broke up with him after seemingly endless arguments at parties and bars, work and with friends, about how "hip hop was universal" and you "didn't have to be street to be down" and that "one love" really meant "one love", and that hip hop wasn't a competition of sorts.
i was so wrong. even "real" hip hop kids would argue with me, even back in college park, that because i was white, female, college-educated, and middle-class, i would never totally understand what hip hop was.
whatever. i miss beats and breaks, and my musical tastes have since ventured to the bitter, moody side (can you blame me?). but mos def took my rhetoric studies to a whole new level:
elvis presley ain't got no soul
chuck berry is rock and roll
you may dig on the rolling stones
but they didn't come up with that shit on they own
i wrote a paper about this (imagine that) for rhetoric, and it was one of the few papers that really rocked my teacher that semester. i may have even turned him into a closet mos def fan, too.
but of course, after much taunting and oh-so-tragic white-girl-got-the-blues but she can't-sing-about-them episodes, i put my mos def cd's away, stopped reading about him, made my heart relax when i watched def poets, and just decided, as with many other things, to adore from afar.
i'm still hip hop, and i'm still blacker than most, but you'd never know it.
but i wish i could channel grammaw death, and get back to times like that, when stupid kids arguing at a party overcame me with closing my mind. the fact that a) mos def has not only crossed the art medium lines, and that b) has done a respectable job, and c) continues to support grass-roots music initiatives, is reason enough for me to start reconsider dating him.
fuck hip hop kids. what do they know.
i couldn't appreciate more that mos def has accepted the role of ford perfect, an alien in disguise. the irony makes my already-nauseas stomach tumble with told-ya-so happiness.
28 days and counting...
i'm not one to brag, but you know you want some.
all i ever needed was a towel
in all the books i've read, in all the novels and non-fiction, every spell-bound story with a binding, there are always those that stay with you and eat at your rotten insides, either giving you hope or squashing it.
i love ford perfect with every ounce of the heart on my sleeve, and one of my many ex-musical lovers will take on his role.
mos def is starring in a film-version of douglas adam's hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy.
a true love story
my beloved urban cow town is known for it's right fundamentals, temperate climate, and denying homos equal employee rights back in like, '90. if you'll notice, along denver's lines of snowplowing and urban revitalization, there had never been any room for what some understand to be "real" hip hop.
we left that to boulder.
needless to say, when mos def presents himself to a doe-eyed, eternally optimistic young cow-town-urban-like teenaged girl who spent most of her time nurturing her inner hippy, you can imagine the results.
i would only (ONLY) listen to mos def in my car or in my room with the door shut, for fear that someone might "question my authenticity." i never went so far as to wear baggy pants and a bandana, and frankly, i was quite comfortable with breaking social molds.
i still appreciate the look on people's faces when they hear how much i used to know about him.
i broke up with him after seemingly endless arguments at parties and bars, work and with friends, about how "hip hop was universal" and you "didn't have to be street to be down" and that "one love" really meant "one love", and that hip hop wasn't a competition of sorts.
i was so wrong. even "real" hip hop kids would argue with me, even back in college park, that because i was white, female, college-educated, and middle-class, i would never totally understand what hip hop was.
whatever. i miss beats and breaks, and my musical tastes have since ventured to the bitter, moody side (can you blame me?). but mos def took my rhetoric studies to a whole new level:
elvis presley ain't got no soul
chuck berry is rock and roll
you may dig on the rolling stones
but they didn't come up with that shit on they own
i wrote a paper about this (imagine that) for rhetoric, and it was one of the few papers that really rocked my teacher that semester. i may have even turned him into a closet mos def fan, too.
but of course, after much taunting and oh-so-tragic white-girl-got-the-blues but she can't-sing-about-them episodes, i put my mos def cd's away, stopped reading about him, made my heart relax when i watched def poets, and just decided, as with many other things, to adore from afar.
i'm still hip hop, and i'm still blacker than most, but you'd never know it.
but i wish i could channel grammaw death, and get back to times like that, when stupid kids arguing at a party overcame me with closing my mind. the fact that a) mos def has not only crossed the art medium lines, and that b) has done a respectable job, and c) continues to support grass-roots music initiatives, is reason enough for me to start reconsider dating him.
fuck hip hop kids. what do they know.
i couldn't appreciate more that mos def has accepted the role of ford perfect, an alien in disguise. the irony makes my already-nauseas stomach tumble with told-ya-so happiness.
28 days and counting...
posted by gijyun |
6.09.2004
|
|
8:46 AM
Q: what's worse than giving up vomit-ridden hangovers?
A: spending sunday vomiting due to a mysterious stomache pain
or, 29 days and counting
note to self: don't eat improperly refrigerated leftovers, or stop giving yourself ulcers.
after being checked into st. joe's emergency room after approximately five and a half hours of violent upchucking, i was immediately given a big fat i.v. cuz i was all dehydrated and shiiiit.
unfortunately, either my vein was too strong for the nurse, or maybe the nurse was a little new at this, because check out what happened as a result from her trying to get the i.v. in:
NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH
yummy. but she did give me some rockin' pain killers. hospitals are fun.
after it was decided i'll live, i was sent home with the good news that my stomache acid has eaten its way through my stomache. mission accomplished. though i'm convinced it was my leftovers.
maybe i need to hire a friggin' aussie to be my personal "bland foods only for two weeks" chef.
if you're in denver, please make sure you get your collective asses here on thursday night. i'll be the sober one eating saltines in the corner.
and, just to add a leetle happiness to your day and mine:
david hasselhoff went and got himself arrested.
see, if he took the 31-day challenge with me, this would not have been a problem.
A: spending sunday vomiting due to a mysterious stomache pain
or, 29 days and counting
note to self: don't eat improperly refrigerated leftovers, or stop giving yourself ulcers.
after being checked into st. joe's emergency room after approximately five and a half hours of violent upchucking, i was immediately given a big fat i.v. cuz i was all dehydrated and shiiiit.
unfortunately, either my vein was too strong for the nurse, or maybe the nurse was a little new at this, because check out what happened as a result from her trying to get the i.v. in:
NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH
yummy. but she did give me some rockin' pain killers. hospitals are fun.
after it was decided i'll live, i was sent home with the good news that my stomache acid has eaten its way through my stomache. mission accomplished. though i'm convinced it was my leftovers.
maybe i need to hire a friggin' aussie to be my personal "bland foods only for two weeks" chef.
if you're in denver, please make sure you get your collective asses here on thursday night. i'll be the sober one eating saltines in the corner.
and, just to add a leetle happiness to your day and mine:
david hasselhoff went and got himself arrested.
see, if he took the 31-day challenge with me, this would not have been a problem.
posted by gijyun |
6.08.2004
|
|
8:00 AM
31 days for my dad
i don't know why i'm choosing 31 instead of 30; prolly for the challenge alone. go big or go home.
31 days of sober. 31 days without caffeine. 31 days without smoking. that's my goal.
it's already started bickering amongst my friends; i have no idea why they feel the need to get all bent out of shape about it. in fact, the fact that arguing has already started is reason enough in itself.
over the next month, i'll be getting to see mike doughty once if not twice, franz ferdinand, an air guitar championship, and independence day celebrations. what an effing time to go dry...
sobriety makes you do weird things (i would know, i haven't had a drink in 16 hours). i just started today after vomiting last night after heeding a friend's advice to go out with a bang; already i feel my inner ex-hippy rearing her ugly peace-loving head.
i got to see gary jules on friday-- wonderful show. he's probably the only person who can rock tattoos and a gold chain like a big thug and play sweet songs on a guitar and still look like i wouldn't want to fuck with him. i really liked his opener matthew ryan-- kind of elliott smith's whispery voice meets david gray, and looks a bit like giovanni ribisi.
they had seats this time at the fox, something i've never seen before, and there were two open seats in the front row of the middle section, between a gay couple and a straight couple. i chose the seat closer to the gay couple in an attempt to not violate any kind of social boundaries, and in retrospect i wish i would've chosen the other seat.
not because i don't like that sort of thing, but because they were so obviously in love, and affectionate, and happy, and it made me wish the empty seat next to me was filled by someone who isn't afraid of intimacy. not even the physical kind, the kind that makes you learn about someone's faults and idiosyncrasies, and lets you love them just the same.
i feel sorry for my dog; she's had to bear the brunt of my singlehood.
i don't think you have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy, but it sure is nice when it's the right kind, especially when they're willing to hang out with you sober.
i wish my dad understood that, too.
i don't know why i'm choosing 31 instead of 30; prolly for the challenge alone. go big or go home.
31 days of sober. 31 days without caffeine. 31 days without smoking. that's my goal.
it's already started bickering amongst my friends; i have no idea why they feel the need to get all bent out of shape about it. in fact, the fact that arguing has already started is reason enough in itself.
over the next month, i'll be getting to see mike doughty once if not twice, franz ferdinand, an air guitar championship, and independence day celebrations. what an effing time to go dry...
sobriety makes you do weird things (i would know, i haven't had a drink in 16 hours). i just started today after vomiting last night after heeding a friend's advice to go out with a bang; already i feel my inner ex-hippy rearing her ugly peace-loving head.
i got to see gary jules on friday-- wonderful show. he's probably the only person who can rock tattoos and a gold chain like a big thug and play sweet songs on a guitar and still look like i wouldn't want to fuck with him. i really liked his opener matthew ryan-- kind of elliott smith's whispery voice meets david gray, and looks a bit like giovanni ribisi.
they had seats this time at the fox, something i've never seen before, and there were two open seats in the front row of the middle section, between a gay couple and a straight couple. i chose the seat closer to the gay couple in an attempt to not violate any kind of social boundaries, and in retrospect i wish i would've chosen the other seat.
not because i don't like that sort of thing, but because they were so obviously in love, and affectionate, and happy, and it made me wish the empty seat next to me was filled by someone who isn't afraid of intimacy. not even the physical kind, the kind that makes you learn about someone's faults and idiosyncrasies, and lets you love them just the same.
i feel sorry for my dog; she's had to bear the brunt of my singlehood.
i don't think you have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy, but it sure is nice when it's the right kind, especially when they're willing to hang out with you sober.
i wish my dad understood that, too.
posted by gijyun |
6.06.2004
|
|
3:41 PM
i'm about to finish the last sip of the third cup of coffee i had today.
between the first and the last cafe negros, i've had some thoughts roll about like marbles in my empty can:
1. i really, really don't appreciate when people make comments about ben gibbard being like that of a sissy girl. i won't even justify it with a link.
2. my dog needs a little tlc. my bad.
3. disease: an impairment of health or a condition of abnormal functioning. alcoholism is a disease; diseases are cured every day...
4. i love the frames now, more than ever.
5. $2 easy street wheat wednesdays at the hornet are a good thing. so are donnie darko thursdays.
6. i made this, instead of updating the procurement staus report:
7. i dreamed about a baseball game last night; the third time in four days.
8. i don't have to work tomorrow.
between the first and the last cafe negros, i've had some thoughts roll about like marbles in my empty can:
1. i really, really don't appreciate when people make comments about ben gibbard being like that of a sissy girl. i won't even justify it with a link.
2. my dog needs a little tlc. my bad.
3. disease: an impairment of health or a condition of abnormal functioning. alcoholism is a disease; diseases are cured every day...
4. i love the frames now, more than ever.
5. $2 easy street wheat wednesdays at the hornet are a good thing. so are donnie darko thursdays.
6. i made this, instead of updating the procurement staus report:
7. i dreamed about a baseball game last night; the third time in four days.
8. i don't have to work tomorrow.
posted by gijyun |
6.03.2004
|
|
1:57 PM
never was a cornflake girl
i just bought a lone ticket to go see gary jules in boulder friday night. if anyone wants to come with me, email me. you can drive, so i can get drunk the night before i stop drinking for a month.
my current favorite song is blame it on the tetons. they keep playing this hackjob interview with that crazy modest mouse effer on music link, and he tells a story about how some soup from a denver cafe made him totally sick onstage. i betcha i know which one it was, because he said they sold majik cards...hahahhaa.
where did i put my keys, girl?
i just bought a lone ticket to go see gary jules in boulder friday night. if anyone wants to come with me, email me. you can drive, so i can get drunk the night before i stop drinking for a month.
my current favorite song is blame it on the tetons. they keep playing this hackjob interview with that crazy modest mouse effer on music link, and he tells a story about how some soup from a denver cafe made him totally sick onstage. i betcha i know which one it was, because he said they sold majik cards...hahahhaa.
where did i put my keys, girl?
posted by gijyun |
6.02.2004
|
|
1:34 PM
fellow denver blogdork scott "s.e." shepard continues to run laps around the ole' gij.
the first uber article i ever read was brash, distasteful, and offensive to women. i have since read the site daily.
when i was dromely googling at work one day, and came across what has to be one of the wittier pop blogs to date, shepard has become a regular part of my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
after an exchange of a few emails, i find that s.e. was the uber article author, and he continues to post for the likes of westword, yankee pot roast, the black table, and zulkey.com. yipes.
and he kungs fu fights, too.
i know what you're thinking, and yes, i think i totally just made up the word dromely, and maybe someday, i'll learn what p.c.r. stands for.
the first uber article i ever read was brash, distasteful, and offensive to women. i have since read the site daily.
when i was dromely googling at work one day, and came across what has to be one of the wittier pop blogs to date, shepard has become a regular part of my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
after an exchange of a few emails, i find that s.e. was the uber article author, and he continues to post for the likes of westword, yankee pot roast, the black table, and zulkey.com. yipes.
and he kungs fu fights, too.
i know what you're thinking, and yes, i think i totally just made up the word dromely, and maybe someday, i'll learn what p.c.r. stands for.
i so totally just became a movie director, and you can too.
my movie
link from dana.
be sure to send me the link when you make your movie...
my movie
link from dana.
be sure to send me the link when you make your movie...
posted by gijyun |
6.01.2004
|
|
4:19 PM
time to get up out da ghetto
i might be heaving my ghetto ass rental for a one-person pad, much like my smarter sister. but that's all in the works. i'll prolly be here til i die. five poyeeeeents, neegrow!
there's nothing like coming home from a foreign country to a six inch brown weed lawn, a yard full of dog poo and ants, no exciting mail, and overdue bills.
you'll have to bear with me, i know some people get ancy around blogs that lack in uploaded jpgs, but my access to my scanner and uploading vacation pics might take a while, since my jobby job might be in the toilet. so just keep reading, goddamnit.
seppo is funny. that picture is not.
just for the record, this was supposed to say 50 Cent, as in fiddy cent, NOT fifty cent drinks. effin editors.
i keep hearing about this local band called platte river killers. the platte river in denver runs directly through the city, along beautiful speer boulevard, and is the dirtiest water in the country, thanks to our possible future state senator:
please click the above linked photo of pete coors, and reconisder ordering a silver bullet. ever.
any crap, i don't know if they really thought up that name themselves, or if they stole it, but if it's the latter, i'm kind of offended, because the cheetah was my pseudo brother-in-law.
pee ess-- i love italian men more than life itself.
pee pee ess-- i do NOT write the titles for those post entries, only my caption headers. geez.
i might be heaving my ghetto ass rental for a one-person pad, much like my smarter sister. but that's all in the works. i'll prolly be here til i die. five poyeeeeents, neegrow!
there's nothing like coming home from a foreign country to a six inch brown weed lawn, a yard full of dog poo and ants, no exciting mail, and overdue bills.
you'll have to bear with me, i know some people get ancy around blogs that lack in uploaded jpgs, but my access to my scanner and uploading vacation pics might take a while, since my jobby job might be in the toilet. so just keep reading, goddamnit.
seppo is funny. that picture is not.
just for the record, this was supposed to say 50 Cent, as in fiddy cent, NOT fifty cent drinks. effin editors.
i keep hearing about this local band called platte river killers. the platte river in denver runs directly through the city, along beautiful speer boulevard, and is the dirtiest water in the country, thanks to our possible future state senator:
please click the above linked photo of pete coors, and reconisder ordering a silver bullet. ever.
any crap, i don't know if they really thought up that name themselves, or if they stole it, but if it's the latter, i'm kind of offended, because the cheetah was my pseudo brother-in-law.
pee ess-- i love italian men more than life itself.
pee pee ess-- i do NOT write the titles for those post entries, only my caption headers. geez.
