big pimpin, spendin' jeez.

my current monthly rent is, as they say, to be reckoned with. i subsided the ethical dilemmas of gentrification (my minor in college) a looong time ago and moved to the ghetto to be close to downtown denver.

i live in a big victorian house; the kind with fancy woodwork and hardwood floors, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and three roommates i know less about than my neighbors.

it also has the ugliest yard you ever saw, sucky plumbing, central NOTHING, and gets hot like a steamy bathroom in the summer, minus the humidity. i've lived here for almost three years.

and not for long. while i've paid less than $300 a month (gasp!) for a nice mix of trendy amenities with the added plus of ghetto gunfire, i've recently made the decision to move out on my own.

i found a new place this week, the kind of place that has fancy windows (the kind that keep your utility bills less than...yes...$375 dollars a month), gorgeous hardwood floors, hip light fixtures, a patio, a red wall, new appliances, the whole she-bang...

a block away from where i live now...you know, so it's not too traumatic for the kid.

while i'll be paying more than double what i pay in rent now, i'll also be buying leetle pieces of much needed serenity and sanity, privacy and priviledge, plushness and peace.

and i can't fucking wait.

damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"i don't need a man, but i sure could use one right about now." -bonnie, def poet jams

and THAT, my friends, about wraps it up for me today.

except for a shot of the dog being happy at the dog park yesterday.



right after i took this picture on my phone, the same phone rang with the news that my uncle's cancer is terminal causing problems (respectfully edited due to family's pseudo-request). see letter to 23rd year.

Et la vie, ce que c'est, ne sera jamais que je comprenne, mais que j'habite.

in my car:
a lonely cd player
bobby pins and vanilla body spray
an empty glass that held water with no ice before i spilled it
a hooters name tag that says "alejandro"
an old newsweek
and old US magazine
a $75 skirt that needs to be altered...again
paycheck stubs
lighter
assorted lip gloss
photo of exboyfriend in glovebox
beads from pridefest on mirror (gay, right? eh...)
AA batteries in glovebox for now defunct digicam
a book i have no intention of reading
dog fur
visor cd holder with [the only] seven cd's [i currently own]:
blur: think tank
cody chestnutt (x2): headphone masterpiece
interpol: turn on the bright lights
jay fararr: honestly, i don't even know--i never got into it
tristan prettyman: the love ep
the streets: a grand don't come for free
pens
deposit slips
email print-out directions to room for rent i found on craigslist
3/4 tank of gas
movie stubs from last night
notebook i used to jot down prose/lyrics in, but have since forgotten
printout of jpg i truely have the intention of turning into a t-shirt


on my dest at work:
two monitors
two keyboards
scanner
detatchable harddrive (fileserver)
file sorter
dead batteries
two coffee cups: one for pens and highlighters, one for coffee
engineering approval drawings stamp
note from designer about converting files to pdf
box of my first business cards ever
empty mineral water bottle
bottle of prescription pills
empty cd cases:
sondre lerche: two way monologue
mike doughty:rockity roll
damien rice: O
the frames: a mix i made of mp3's from this guy
scotch tape that i never use
a trinket our bookkeeper brought me from catalina
papers to be reviewed
empty paperclip holder
now defunct key to building
copy of dawn of the dead and the boy who could fly i salvaged from a box of crap from my uncle's condo


next to my bed:
wireless laptop
candle that needs to be replaced
remote control
mini statue of buddah my old boss gave me
$200 that my roommate owed me for bills
lip moisturizer (for bed time)
******** (edited for content)
toby young's how to lose friends and alienate people (which, i have decided, i will never finish reading)
chuck palahunik's invisible monsters (just started reading)
matches
girlie lotion (in schwarzenegger tone)

in my head:
guilt about not being nice enough during a courtesy call yesterday afternoon
anxiety about my loan
anxiety about surgery
relief about bank account
ennui with work
optimism nouveau
excitment for this weekend
excitment for this friday off
anticipation for several due paychecks
debating whether or not to file claim for cd case
debating whether or not to buy ticket to the hives tonight
plenty of good sleep with relativley pleasant dreams

i had this wacky dream about a rock show...

and it was totally real; my friends were there, and i saw familiar faces and saw isaac brock rock the fuck out (probably hating the world...and you), and saw a guy pee on colfax, turned down an invite to brianna's (which was wierd, since she was kind of a friend of a friend), but instead ended up right back where we started, and drank something i NEVER drink anymore (because it sounded "light" on my tummy) and hung out with old friends and tried to convince my brohaus to come hang out with us (but to no avail) but still made it home at a reasonable hour, and instant messaged briefly but chatted on the phone til it was time to lay down, with the help of only 1/4 of a sleep aid, because it "gets rid of hangovers."

i hate it when i dream shit like that.

if anyone actually made it to the sonic youth party, someone might like to hear about it...

tonight is supposed to be as boring as last night was (before i had that dream); i plan on watching a movie with my dog and eating bland food.

who's down?

i didn't need the goddamned thing, anyway.



i'll be posting infrequently if not at all due to the previous diagnosis of "ulcer" rearing it's ugly "gallstone" head.

i drove myself to the emergency room at about 3 a.m. on saturday morning because my thorax wouldn't let me sleep, not unlike the episode i had about 6 weeks ago. turns out i have rocks in my insides. i coulda told them that.

i'll be getting my first real surgery ever, the kind where they put you to sleep even, and have already retorted to having my parents totally take care of me. almost like a vacation with really bad abdominal pains.

i'm having my gallbladder removed, laparoscopically, and everyone tells me that it's a real simple deal. i don't really care, as long as they give me the same narcotics i got in the e.r...

the funniest part, you ask? oh yeah, that would be how since i've come off my self-prescribed month of sobriety, i'm now totally not allowed to touch alcohol at all. the irony of it is just sickening. no, literally sickening.

i'll be pissed off the most if i have to miss the modest mouse concert tonight, in which case, i'll be more than positive that some angry demon of denver just doesn't like me going to shows.

the bible might be quiet for a while. which, apparently, is a trend sweeping the nation.

if you're bored, feel free to email me some encouraging words.

deuce high.

her: he said it was really good to see you.

me: yeah, it looks like he's doing well...

her: he said he had a good time. he said you seemed "almost happy."

me: ...

her: he just mentioned that you seemed to be enjoying yourself a bit more; that your sense of humor was a bit lighter.

me:...

her: i've noticed too.

me: ...

her: long ride home, eh?

me: mmm.

so, from what i gather, a two is wild. but not in a beats-everything way; more like a get outta jail free card.



you start with 13 dealt each; makes counting cards virtually impossible.

you can play a full house on the draw, but then another full house has to be played and it has to be higher than the first. same with a run, and three/four of a kind. standard poker hierarchy stuff.

the point is to lose all your cards. we had a little motivation.



the suits have a pecking order: clubs, hearts, diamonds, spades. so, a seven of spades beats a seven of diamonds, diamonds beat hearts, hearts beat clubs. you get the idea.

doubles can be laid on a draw. only doubles can be laid on doubles (for instance, you can't play doubles on singles, tripples on doubles, and so forth).

if you get stuck, you can lay your two, if you have them, but it doesn't reset. the next lay has to beat what the two skipped.

naturally, i'd play my high cards early to get the jump on drawing; that way, they've got more (midlevel) cards they couldn't play towards the end of the game.

i didn't win one goddamned hand. but i also didn't cheat this time. my strategy will forever be in revision, methinks.

tristan's so pretty, man.
 
i give two craps about whether or not this fits into charges's gijyun-formula-for-posting. while it SOUNDS like a typical night, last night was more fun than i've had in a long time.

i went with three old friends to see tristan prettyman, on to whom my graphic designer friend turned me months ago; we've only been able to listen to the mp3's on her site, but they suffice in an industry that i feel is severely lacking when it comes to honest chics with guitars. don't worry though; i'm still working my way up to rock star status solely to change that, though i broke my PoS guitar when i got mad and threw a shoe at it.

[note to self]: work on temper.

any shizzy, tristan prettyman is very cool, and gorgeous to boot. i can't really blame my graphic designer friend for getting all smitten-like when we chatted with her after her set and giving her his lance armstrong bracelet after she mentioned she liked it. smooth, dawg. smooth. 



the said bracelet was enough of an in to invite her to come party with us at only the trashiest hippy bar on the face of the planet. she didn't show though. but i'll still let her be my new best friend; any girl who takes a shot in the middle of her set is okay by me.



and, as if meeting one star last night wasn't enough, we happened to run into patrick roy's brother at the bar. we did the ole' hey-lemme-pretend-to-take-your-picture-but-really-take-a-picture-of-someone-else move; that's where the US weekly came in.



he likes pizza, and he's obviously willing to share-- two qualities i know i look for in a guy.



for seven bucks, plus about nine beers, last night rawked.

in other i-don't-really-feel-like-getting-to-work-yet news:

this article (link via everyone and their mom) has sent me over the edge. i kind of want to print that photo and frame it for my office, though i think management might frown upon it. also, go read thighmaster's post for today. good stuff.

damn, i feel dang special today!

and because i know he'll just keep whining about not getting linked, go here too. he makes cooking fun.

jokes are fun.

q: how many old-school punks does it take to change a light bulb?

a: you wouldn't know because you weren't fucking THERE, man.


peace, knee grows. and thanks for all the offers in the i lost my cd's and my sanity area. if things don't turn up soon, i'll be taking all of you up on them.

 
if anyone has any idea or any slight piece of information or even some comforting thoughts about where the fuck my cd case that has every last cd of mine minus about five has gone, please, please take pity on me and let me know.

there's not many things i own in which i invest a great deal of attention and affection, but that's one of them.

i might be a little spacy from time to time, but i don't lose things like this.

thanks.

 
i've hijacked my sister's blog.

long weekend.
 
colorado springs is not my ideal party town, but is a gracious enough host for a good three days of heavy work.
 
i "provided support for a high-profile international corporate conference" saturday through yesterday, which, in layman's terms, meant i said a lot of:
 
1: have you had a long travel day?
2: is there anything i can do to help?
3: you got it.
4: okey-dokey.
5: thanks, i appreciate it.
6: would you be able to tell me...
7: hello!/good morning!/how's it going?/good night!
8. i'm not sure, but i'll find out for you.
 
it was also a hurry-up-and-wait weekend, which meant i spent most of the time devouring US weekly, Newsweek, and picture-messaging on my phone (my new favorite hobby).
 
aside from the really fucked up dreams i've been having, i also decided this weekend that it's time i admit to myself and everyone else that i'm pretty sure i'm a textbook postmodernist.
 
the back page of the newsweek i read seven times was a story about the olympics in athens; there's a nice under-water photo of a young man swimming, his lean muscles as defined as the bubbles of air racing from his submerged face.  i didn't even flinch; i think my idea that sex (intimacy with the opposite gender in general) has forgotten me might be the other way around.
 
speaking of which, either my roommate (who is usually out of town) is slowly driving a nail into her wall with a boxing glove or she's getting laid. that would be my cue to try to fall asleep now.
 
 

it's a small blogosphere after all.
 
so it started with a family dinner that turned out to be more fun than being with my family has been in a long time and there was a frank sinatra singer who was getting all crazylike on the furniture and someday i'll tell you why the golden gate bridge represents the brooklyn bridge and the last time i was there was valentine's day when i split my dress open and it made me chuckle when i thought of that last night and i had to pay for parking with a check but the meal was really nice and nostalgic if you will and when we were done everyone went back south and my brother said he'd come back up so i could take him out for a drink so i called my friends who came and met me after about half an hour of lallygagging about where to go and then a friend of a friend called and said he'd meet us too with his girlfriend and her friend and i'm all hey two parties in one night ain't bad and they were nice girls and all i just wanted to chat with my friends but they probably thought i was being rude and at that point i really didn't care and then they left and our friend left with them and then it was just us girls again and we were chatting about random stuff as girls tend to do and then someone walks by and yells gideon and i don't even notice since i don't really go by that and then he said my real name and i'm all wtf and i look up and someone's looking at me and my friend is like i think that guy knows you but he didn't look familiar and then he did and he was all is your name anne and i was all yeah and i was going to say jon jon bacardi the latin action hero but i already looked like a big enough tool so i just said is your name jon and he said yeah and i was all i thought you lived in l.a. since you're all tight with percenterprises and he was like i grew up with him and we laughed and chatted for a second and said nice to meet you and nice to meet you too and then my friends made massive fun of me for being a huge internet loser.

attitude is everything.

kind of like susan sarandon running around in skivies, yelling toucha-toucha-toucha-touch me.



the slow, smoldering burn from job number one is leaking its way to job number two. i'm sure i've effectively covered my trail with blah's, though i think my editor is hot on my trail.

last night it was 98 degrees farenheit at 8:42 p.m. at the intersection of broadway and belleview.

mary kate and ashley's milk ad has been pulled.

i know what you're thinking...worst week ever, right?

wrong. so wrong.

the saving grace that has followed me in and out of my car, to and from my home, and back and forth from work, is a young man known none other than cody chestnutt. i'd write some juxtaposition about how "cool" he is compared to the current weather status, but that's just corny.

last summer as i walked out of tower records at cherry creek, there was a plastic tower records bag sitting by the trashcan (insert beam of pious light and angelic music). in the bag were two cd's (three, if you count the headphones masterpiece as a set of two). oh, that came right home.

i didn't actually play it until a few months ago, and holy dirty dirty bass line.

the entire 40 some-odd song collection is hours of the honest-type lyric that make you humble and the kind of voice that puts a girl to sleep with one distinct subject on her mind.



touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me
i wanna be di-i-i-irty
thrill me, chill me, fulfill me
creature of the night!

(can it, janet.)

as a side note, the other cd in the bag was moe's no doy...

in other side notes, i finally found a full mp3 of the spinners' original track of "it's a shame", something i've been looking for for about three years, since i declared the remix in class act my favorite song of the summer of 2001. stop, stop, stop the presses, hold ya horses, just sit back, relax...

been a long time since i rock and rolled.
cue guitar solo.

it's a wonder i'm still breathing. for those of you who receive lovin on a regular basis, consider yourself lucky.

sister christian is probably learning the art of rocking and rolling this very moment. maybe i should get married.





psyche.

my sister's new husband had all these hot groomsmen, one of which may be swinging by the denver metro area sometime soon and was very persistent with saying "hello" and "goodbye" to me every time he saw me.

someone pointed out that he was flirting with me, and that he probably thought that i hated him; i apologized immediately, confessing that at this point, that whole arena was a little foreign to me.

been a long time, been a long time, been a long...whatever. you have to admit that when your sex life is totally dry, your nighttime fantasies are off the mutha frikin hizzook.

i bowled a 110 yesterday. in two games. tell me that's not sexy.

when you can't find your music collection, sometimes it finds you.

no, they didn't reappear, but i keep getting interjections of songs while i'm doing something totally compulsory.


emptying the dishwasher:

i...
am thinking it's a sign...
that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images
and when we kiss
they're perfectly aligned.


grocery shopping for rosemary shampoo:

wait in the fire, wait in the fi-i-ire...


one-woman concert in the shower, with above-stated rosemary shampoo:

aaaall my armour falling down...
in a pi-i-ile...at my feeeeet.
and my wi-i-inter giving way to warm
as i'm saaaangin' him... to sleep...


driving:

i saw a broken arm
machines will all break down in the way i know
mended and all made clean
i saw up on the screen all the stones i throw


writing check for pedicure:

oh, god,
i want to stay
in your arms today
with you my...darling.


yesterday, on a boat, lying in the sun:

blame it on the weekends, god, i need a cola now.

language is the liquid
that we're all dissolved in;
good for solving problems
after it creates a problem.

blame it on the tetons, god, i need a scapegoat now.



blogging right now:

beep beep, who got the keys to my jeep?
vrrroooooom.


i'm off tomorrow morning to sister christian's wedding for the week. the last time i went where i'm going, i was all torn up about a particular fellow. i listened to mystery white boy the whole trip. which probably made things worse.

wish me luck.

when you can't find your music collection, sometimes it finds you.

no, they didn't reappear, but i keep getting interjections of songs while i'm doing something totally compulsory.


emptying the dishwasher:

i...
am thinking it's a sign...
that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images
and when we kiss
they're perfectly aligned.


grocery shopping for rosemary shampoo:

wait in the fire, wait in the fi-i-ire...


one-woman concert in the shower, with above-stated rosemary shampoo:

aaaall my armour falling down...
in a pi-i-ile...at my feeeeet.
and my wi-i-inter giving way to warm
as i'm saaaangin' him... to sleep...


driving:

i saw a broken arm
machines will all break down in the way i know
mended and all made clean
i saw up on the screen all the stones i throw


writing check for pedicure:

oh, god,
i want to stay
in your arms today
with you my...darling.


yesterday, on a boat, lying in the sun:

blame it on the weekends, god, i need a cola now.

language is the liquid
that we're all dissolved in;
good for solving problems
after it creates a problem.

blame it on the tetons, god, i need a scapegoat now.



blogging right now:

beep beep, who got the keys to my jeep?
vrrroooooom.


i'm off tomorrow morning to sister christian's wedding for the week. the last time i went where i'm going, i was all torn up about a particular fellow. i listened to mystery white boy the whole trip. which probably made things worse.

wish me luck.

i went to a rock show and got drunk last night and then forgot about taking my brother to the airport at 6 am, three sets of bad news, and other short stories.
volume 23, issue 1

sorrows be damned

Q: who're the best people to get trashed with on a monday night after being sober for a month?

A: the only motherhumpers who hung out with you whilst you were sober.





cheers. sorry about your shirt, steve.

but really, i was more drowning my sorrows for what could be but isn't too surprising.

bad news, part 1:



that was soooo cool of the killers to get in touch with every other band i've ever wanted to see and pull a no-show. should i ever get to heaven, i'm having a serious talk with whomever was assigned to constantly eff up all my plans, and you better believe i'll be using some strongly-worded language.

you might remember such bullcrap from oh say...every other show in denver, though other denver bloggerz have already found alternative plans.

bad news, part 2:

denver just got a lot less cool and could someone please tell me what the crap i'm supposed to read until october? you rock my small, self-absorbed, internet-controlled, pop-culture-frenzied world.

in vegas, are you still going to dis all over woody paige?

bad news, part 3 (mind the expletives):

when i went to sleep last night (after getting the spins under control), i noticed that i was having trouble passing the eff out, which has never (NEVER) been a problem for me. i realized, after i brought a thermometer upstairs, that it was 84 fucking degrees mother fucking fahrenheit in my goddamned room last night at 1 o'clock in the fucking morning.

if that isn't some shit, i don't know what the fuck is. denver's been blessed with a pleasantly mild summer thus far; i think it's safe to say that trip is oooover.

so after i pass out...

i wake up this morning to my back vibrating. vibrating, you ask? yes, because i slept on my cell phone and because i had to take my mad scientist brother and his girlfriend to the airport at six. it's a good thing people don't have a lot of faith in me-- if he hadn't called twenty minutes before i was supposed to pick them up, they might surely have been late to the airport.

i'm sure everyone knew about the new teen girl squad shenanigans before me, but for posterity.

i have the same cell phone as scott stereogum.

i hope you know that days at work when you don't update are much longer and boring even though all i do all day is email you. i love the crap out of you.

if anyone has 50K they want to invest in a sweet-ass documentary about shit that's bound to be cuh-razy funny, email me.

enter le weekend.



to say that you're a friend of mine
is quite the declaration.
i've only known you several years
from many celebrations.

you've been a costly friend at times
when i didn't have the money.
you helped me laugh at things i wouldn't
normally take as funny.

you helped me dance, and shout, and flirt
with boys i never knew,
and helped me think i look a lot
more attractive than i do.

you helped me fall a time or two
on concrete that was dirty,
but saved me from embarrassment
when i acted way too nerdy.

you help to keep late-night diners
open with full menus,
and taco bell and wendy's have
become our favorite venues.

you also helped to make me sick
too many times to count;
you never really helped me
in consuming the correct amount.

my favorite part of all the nights
you filled with drunken laughter
was how you stuck around and raged
all through the morning after.

you made me late to many jobs--
especially to school,
though i knew that bosses and professors
didn't think that was cool.

you care about our needs
and never bitch about your own,
especially when we're lonely--
we know we're not alone...

you've got a job that no one envies,
and we heartily give you praise
for enhancing many many nights,
and many many days.

who'da thought i'd find a friend
in something like a drink?
i can safely say i know for sure
that you're my friend...i think.

an attempt to shake up this mofo.

after seeing spider man II and farenheit 9/11 in the same weekend, here's a few proposals:

dr. octavius


vs.

dr. octagon


octavius: i got these plant-nodes thingys stuck in my spine! i am in great turmoil! i belt out loud, baritone screams at will! i must create energy for the universe but kill everybody, too! what's a doc to do?!

octagon: girl, let me touch you there, i wanna feel you...

octavius: don't hinder me with your non-scientific jargon! my wife is dead from a fatal wall-slam! i must stomp around the city of new york with my arms swaying about! if you're not for me, you're against me!

octagon: earth people, new york and california-- earth people, i was born on jupiter...

octavius: damn, this cursed mind!

octagon: i get real raw -- change arrangements on your face.


OR


michael moore


vs.

michael jackson


moore: (on sidewalk, chillin' with videographer. enter jackson.)...mister...mister jackson? can i have a few moments of your time?

jackson: DO YOU REMEMBAH THE TIME...WHEN WE FELL IN LOVE?!

moore: well, no; what i DO recall is a phone call that you made regarding a transfer of funds from the world bank into your private swiss account after you signed a gag order. is this your signature? are you able to read with those dark sunglasses on?

jackson: CUMMON, GIRL! A-B-C! I'M EASY AS 1-2-3! I'M SIMPLE AS DO-RA-MI! A-B-C, 1-2-3, BABY YOU AND ME GIRL!

moore: mister jackson, this may not be the time to joke. your reputation as a world pop icon is at stake. don't you care to defend your integrity?!

jackson: YOU KNOW I'M BAD! I'M BAD! SHAH-MON! ANDTHEWHOLEWORLDHASTOANSAHMYCRYJUSTTOTELLYOUONCEAGAIN WHO'S BAD...

moore: thank you for your time.

cool is relative.

say hi to my relatives and family, who are now bible thumpers too.

things to not be in the dump about:

1. fiona apple's new album is close to being released.
2. my four day weekend starts tomorrow, and the weather will be glorious.
3. i'm not dead. neither are you. that's gotta count for something.
4. the bible has its own review: gideon's bible review