Posts Tagged 'Certain Someone'

Awesome faces and far away places.

So a week or so ago I Talibaned my face with some potent acid concoction. I complained for a solid week. I used it as an excuse to not attend a BBQ on Sunday or Yoga on Saturday [There is a way cute yoga boy I am semi-stalking. Aside from being a boy in yoga, he drives a Subaru. That puts is odds of being gay at 60% per the DC Dateability Assessment Test. We did chat on Thursday about whether I should get the purple yoga block or the blue yoga block. He liked the blue better, but I went with my gut [which said purple]. I don’t know if the fact that he picked blue over purple makes him 10% LESS gay, or if the fact that he allowed me to engage him in a shopping chatter makes him for sure gay.] But today, my skin looks amazing. So amazing in fact, that I am itching to do it all over again.

For those of you interested, the goods can be purchased here. Recommendation:: don’t try to enroll in enroll in med school before taking a biology course. Meaning, start with the 8% ladies. Trust me on this one.

Aside from learning today that my skin can be awesome, I also learned that Certain Someone is moving to San Francisco. The news makes me very sad. And also, surprisingly [oddly? alarmingly? strangely? inappropriately? – not sure which is the word that goes best there], angry.

My Artful Day.

I bought this Shepard Fairey print today at Small Bills Gallery at 8200 1/2 W. 3rd St [seriously, it looks much better in person – but Certain Someone’s photography skills are questionable today]::

 

But let’s back up, is probably what you’re thinking.  You’re probably saying to yourself::  Diet Coke, it doesn’t seem like you often purchase art prints!  And that’s because:: I usually don’t, yo.  It’s just that Certain Someone — fine eye for art, him (and for the lady readers:: quite a piece of fine art himself, and single – email me for his info; he likes you already) — told me about this showing.  And when I arrived, he told me that he had purchased this same print.  And I know that Certain Someone has few talents, but one of his talents is spotting value, so I figured I should try to steal his thunder. 

I ALMOST bought one of the David Browne “Berds” that make me so happy when I drive about town (but see, supra:: wanting to steal Certain Someone’s thunder).  But I am going to save my money for one of these instead::

**  Certain Someone hijacked my blog to go on about how he is “fine art.”  In fact, he is more like a bootleg DVD bought on eBay.  But hey, Ladies, if you are into that kind of thing, he’s your man.  ALSO, despite what Certain Someone says, he did not purchase the print, because they only took cash money – and he didn’t have any!  So he had to put the print on layaway. Ha!  Ha!!  

Working things out.

Certain Someone said on Friday that I have more “ex-friends” than anyone he knows. Thankfully, at least for now, he is not one of them. We have [Or rather, I think we have – Certain, please confirm] gotten past the debacle that was Friday’s Obama/Fairey Fundraiser Party. Phew. Friendship back on.

But alas, where one problem is solved, another is required to spring up in its place [or so it seems]. My roommate, the same one that has a brand new fully loaded turbo Porsche Cayenne parked in our driveway, bounced her rent check. And now, all of a sudden she is impossible to get a hold of. Very peculiar. Especially considering she was supposed to move out last weekend, but all her stuff is still here. It in unlikely that she is in danger. It is, however, VERY likely that she went to Vegas and re-married the husband she just got a divorce from.

And work! Oh lordy, there is so much of it. [See post below]

Never underestimate the power of friends.

I woke up this morning with a heavy heart. My first instinct was to just mope around the house wishing for something magical to happen knowing all the while that it won’t, thereby causing me to sink deeper into my self-induced fake depression. Instead, I set off for a Mexico/Movie Adventure with Certain Someone.

The first stop was El Coyote. Yes, I know the food kind of sucks there. Yes, I know there is an over-abundance of Christmas lights. Yes, my stomach hurts EVERY time I eat there. But dangit, I love that place. My usual tamale, guacamole, salsa, bean explosion did not disappoint.

After our bellies were full [seriously, painfully, full], we set off to Universal City to catch Wall-E.* It turns out that Universal City is one of the WORST places on earth. As if the twelve dollar parking wasn’t tragic enough, the place is nothing more than a giant, lit up food court. The theater, however, had a special feature that knocked my socks off:: the Dyson hand dryer. World, if you have not yet encountered such hand dryer, you are not living up to your full potential.

Wall-E, which is sooo not a kids movie, is awesome. There is one part where Wall-E is desperate to get another robot to hold his hand. At this moment a) I thought to myself “I am just like Wall-E, all I want is someone to hold my hand” and b) I cried like a fool. Just to recap, I compared myself to a robot and had an emotional melt down. All together now, can we say PMS?

In sum:: I woke up totally sad. I ate a meal that made my belly ache. I went to a place I hated [minus the hand dryer, which seriously, was ridiculously awesome]. I paid too much for parking. But at the end of it all, I feel so much better than I did earlier because I hung out with my friend.

Hooray for friends.

* On the way to the movie we passed by the Banksy gas station on La Brea and Beverly. The fact that his work exists near me makes me happy.

Banksy Girl at Valero on La Brea/Beverly
Banksy Girl at Valero on La Brea/Beverly

Confused.

Confusion seems to be pretty much the only thing I am feeling these days. I spent all day at work slaving over a filing that needed to be made – which filing was of course due yesterday. The partner who assigned me the wretched task assured me that the whole process would take no longer than three hours. Diet Coke, he said emphatically, you will be done in time for lunch. Fast forward eight hours later and there I sat, in the same seat, still not done. And still not having had eaten lunch. Feeling utterly confused.

I rushed out of work to meet up with the Philosopher for dinner/drinks. Shortly after my previous post about the confusion he was causing by toying with me, he made the best decision any man can make. He asked me out. Our meeting started out with the usual pleasantries – “hello, how are you, where you from, who you be with” etc, etc, blahpity-blah. As our blood alcohol levels rose, so too did the fun quotient of our conversation. By the time we were three glasses of wine deep, I had already convinced him to flash his very silly yet endearing tattoo (to the extent a tattoo can be endearing) and a sort of truth or dare (minus the dare) banter was exchanged. We covered religion (he has none), drug use (he does none),

and a few other things (that I don’t recall). It was fun. And, alas, it was confusing.
Which confusion begets further confusion – because why should a fun date be a source of confusion? Probably because of the underlying confusion I feel about Certain Someone. He and I had exchanged several emails yesterday trying to come to a mutual understanding about what the hell was going on between us. And I thought that we had. But then instead we spent the better part of the time since then not communicating at all, or being mad/sad/confused at each other.
Will I ever reach an age or a place in my life where things just make sense and I know what to do and how to handle situations?
I am starting to doubt it.

Aristotle Boy Strikes Back.

[Enter star wars theme music.]

My life, and my love life in particular, is destined to be complicated.* Thusly, just as I had given up hope [literally, the last oz. of hope drained out of me two seconds before the following took place], AB email me.

DAH DAH DAH!!!

His email read as following (in a Diet Coke style nutshell): Hi, I was thinking about you. I just wanted you to know that. But because I want to keep you guessing about whether I am interested or not, I am not going to ask you out or otherwise engage you. I am instead going to say “talk to you soon” and make you exist another week in agony. Because that is how I roll. Philosopher style. Joop.**

Anyhow, the good of it is that I am not getting the total blow off, which makes my fragile (not really) ego feel better. The bad of it is…I was sooo (kind of) over it. And now I am back under it.

Also, things are further complicated by the fact that I have been spending some quality time (read, he spent the night) with Certain Someone. Nothing naughty happened. But still, it is confusing because I like spending time with him.

Calgon, take me away!

* Yes, I do know that is because I make it so.

** Joop is a word that I am going to single handedly bring into existence. I it is meant to be a jestful*** combination of bye, later, over and out, woot, hoot, yup and [WORD YOU LIKE] all rolled up into one. It is awesome. Trust me.

*** Don’t know if “jestful” is a word. Let’s just pretend.

Car accidents and other stuff.

1:: About a week ago I hit (a love tap, really) a car in the parking garage at work. It was only half my fault, but of course no one believes that because I have been ordained worst driver in the history of the universe. The car I hit, was of course, parked. Because who doesn’t find parked cars really hard to avoid sometimes? So anyhow, once I hit the car, I threw a total (internal – mostly) temper tantrum.

The temper tantrum consisted of three stages: (A) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! This is the seventh car I have hit in as many months. I am so going to lose my insurance. I am such an asshole. Someone stab my face off with a fork. (B) THAT ASSHOLE PARKED LIKE A TOTAL ASSHOLE! That car is totally at fault for parking like such a jerk. Damn him and his stupid expensive looking Audi. Damn him to eternal car damnnationville! (C) WOE IS ME!!! Why can’t I catch a break? First the Evil Troll situation and now THIS?!?! WHY GOD WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO??!?!!

The whole thing took about 90 seconds. Then I left a note and headed home (stopping at taco bell on the way for a double decker with sour cream – you know, comfort food)

Next day, I awaited anxiously for the guy (I don’t know why I assume it is a guy, but I do) to call. No call came. Still feeling guilty, thinking maybe the guy didn’t get my note, I left another note. Now, several days had passed – and STILL NO CALL!!!

So I think maybe the guy doesn’t care that I hit his car? Which would be awesome.

2:: There is this lady who uses the bathroom on my floor (and by “my floor” I mean the floor on which my office is situated) that is totally bat shit crazy (or just really vain). I see her in there all the time literally starring at herself and playing with her hair. This morning, she was in there with a gigante bottle of hair spray going to town on herself. She was spraying like mad woman from the moment I entered until the moment I departed (approx 2.5 minutes). That was 9:05 a. It is now 3:03 p and it still reeks of her hair spray.

To crazy bat shit mad hair spray woman, I beg you, please stop.

3:: Evil Troll FINALLY moved out. God Bless America. Democrats and Republics alike.

4:: I am on a baked potato eating frenzy. Two lunches in a row now, and there is a 70 percent chance of another tomorrow.

5:: This makes my head explode.

6:: Certain Someone and I are no more. I mean, individually, we still exist. He just no longer happens to be my Certain Someone, I suppose. Sad.