pale_blue_eyes

you know how when you're getting ready for a date, there are moments when you look into the mirror and are like 'i really hope i don't fuck this up'. for myself, this time is especially harrowing, as i tend to pick everything apart (are my eyebrows even? am i sweating already? wtf is that on my chin?). i really am like super nervous to the max on dates, and on this particular night i was just a neurotic mess before i even got to the restaurant.

well... all that stuff sure loses it's importance when YOUR BEING SHOVED INTO THE BACK OF A COP CAR RIGHT AFTER DINNER.





after driving to goddamn alaska (it might as well have been) for the quickest 2 set concert ever, i raced back into civilization to meet a friend (and his friends) for what was supposed to be a quick and easy night of debauchery. however, before any of THAT could begin, we just so happened to pass a gigantic (and i mean fucking huge) 'dance dance' machine, complete with seizure inducing strobe lights and annoying-as-fuck j-pop. how could i say no to that? rules were simple. 1 on 1, and if you win, you're out. continue until you can crown someone the WORST. DANCER. EVER. at which point, that person has to let us in on an oh-so-sexual secret. luckily, all that time spent with my bedroom door shut sh-sh-shakin it to kathleen hanna (in my underoos) paid off, as i was only kinda-sorta a loser. oh, the secret sucked btw. what a prude.

this weekend, as i was politely giving my recently consumed carl's jr takeout back to them (by way of their bushes), i couldn't help but remember a certain someone's recent journal entry about cutting down on her drinking habits. i don't even have a job yet, and i've been out gallivanting around this town like i'm goddamn paris hilton (if paris hilton were broke). i was driving around the other morning, hopelessly lost, muttering to myself like some sort of coked up woody allen (if woody allen sang backing harmonies to the 'zombies' at the top of his lungs) and i caught a glance of myself in the rear-view mirror. i almost had a panic attack. well, no more. the next person who sees me stumbling around has my permission to ruin my night with a swift kick to the groin.

and ok now, cmon... just WTF is going on here? am i really the only person in the entire free world who does not own this bass???



so. fucking. jealous.

i plan on sleeping through this entire week, doing absolutely nothing other than snuggling up with my brand new polly harvey lp, smashing my controller in occasional schizophrenic bouts of ninja gaiden, and reminding le pug just how much i love him. all while life passes by my window.