Category Archives: drunk

’64 Chevy/Are You Afraid of the Dark?

“Call me after midnight.”
“Ha! Yeah. Well, you know what they say about after midnight.”

“..No, actually I don’t know what they say. What do they say?”
“After midnight we’re gonna let it all hang out!”

YES, classic rock reference.

Thanks, The Shark 105.3

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The Joys of Life with Man-Influence

I haven’t blogged in a month and a half. Work, moving to Oakland, and having a man in my life suddenly, have all kept me plenty busy. As my bedroom hardly constitutes a hang out-able room, the ratio of nights I’ve spent in my new bedroom, to the nights I’ve spent at his place, are probably neck and neck. Here’s a taste of what we get up to.

Last weekend

Friday: Skipped the Oakland Art Murmur. Skipped the German avant-garde band in the city. We took the Keepin’ It Clean van just down to the Stork Club. Great, divey atmosphere. Sat and smoked out back before the live act took the stage. It was an “ironic” white kid, who covered “Poison” by Bel Biv Devoe, and otherwise, rapped about cell phones with a T-Pain effect. Stayed for his performance, danced a little and went home. Partied like rock stars. A party of two, but damn, was it crunk. Snapped photos like we’re fabulous celebrities (which we secretly are).

Saturday: Still high. Showered with Irish Spring. He poured his Rock Star into a red cup. From a basketball court, we listened to some Africans play music on the playground. Sunny stroll down Telegraph. Toured the student co-op he used to live in. I swung in the hammock on the roof. Blondie’s Pizza. Joints on the couch. Elephant beer. 6 pm and it was bedtime.

Sunday: 14 hours of sleep. Eventually, I helped clean the house by washing the dishes and suggesting the 409 orange-scented cleaner, over the generic window cleaner.

Wednesday night (?)

A list of our night’s keywords that turned into a poem:

1.) Safety pins and cigarettes

2.) Rap music and Charlie’s hiccup breath

3.) Orange helicopter with beatdown sleaze

4.) The dollar in my pocket brought a million to their knees.

Other keywords/themes with us include:

1.) NPR on the “Ian” radio

2.) News at 10

3.) “love note” IM’s

4.) Andre champagne, and the promise of champagne with a real cork someday

5.) the drawer of despair

6.) listening to The Zombies

7.) me getting paid lots of attention and loving it (who doesn’t!?)

So for those very few who have been wondering what I’ve been up to, that is what my life has been lately, regardless of whether it’s a weeknight or weekend. I can’t complain, for now.

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idk

My life consists of:

editorial internship M-W via Walnut Creek BART, via MacArthur station, via free shuttle. It’s a big plus that I usually write during the hour I have to kill before going in in the morning, while I sit outside with my Sbux, and that just being in the publishing office inspires me to brainstorm or write on my lunch break (sometimes). I definitely never felt that while temping in a financial office.

weekly check-in phone calls from Mr. Paul. Usually, like tonight, he’ll start out by saying he was on the freeway and just thought of me. Sometimes he tells me about how his grandmother’s doing in the hospital, but mostly when I hang up Becky will ask, “What’d he have to say?” to which I’ll answer, “I have no idea,” then she’ll go, “As usual!” and I’m like, “I think he said something about hanging out? …Maybe?”

giving my number out to various men, none of which I’m excited about, but who cares? Within two days, I gave my number out to three people. Two of them I met when I hit up the dance floor by myself down Crogan’s in da Creek, while Becky was on her date in the other room. Oh, did I mention they were friends with each other? Oooh, my b! Well, even though I was texting with one of them the next afternoon, I haven’t heard from him since, so it doesn’t matter. Plus, his myspace page failed to impress me (ie. skanky pics of chicks, and a weird typical Pisces thing for feet/toes..eww), but I love that his email address is @blackplanet.com. Also those two and the others they were with were pretty fun. I bet you can’t say you that you’ve been wiped down before! Sounds dirty, but for those of you squares not in the know, I’m talking about “Shoulders, chest, pants, shoes!” from Lil Boosie’s “Wipe Me Down.” We were all doing the wipe me down to each other and it was a highlight in my life. Shout outs to Crogan’s for a surprisingly good time on the Thursday night dance floor.

The other dude was an older white guy, total square, who talked to me while we waited ten minutes for the BART up until we transferred and got off at separate stops. I was headed out to meet Mr. Paul at the club, and I once I told the guy that I was going to a club, I had to hear the “Maybe you could show me how to dance sometime.” Show your own damn self how to dance, buddy! That ain’t the job for me. I bitterly told him that I’ve tried that many times before and it just doesn’t work. HA.

football and crabbing with Asians/Koreans (and Becky) on my 24th birthday. I sure as hell didn’t see that coming, but that’s what happened because I was, again, 3rd wheeling with Becky and her date (but no, I will not be that 3rd wheeling friend that follows a couple around. Please, shoot me with your gat before that happens). Earlier that day we went to a Cal game, which was fun for a quarter or two, and then went late-evening crabbing. The view was really beautiful though, because we were on a pier right next to the Golden Gate bridge with the pretty lil’ city and the Bay Bridge across the water.

the end.

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Hoy es el noche de Domingo.

Today at Urban Outfitters I got a David Shrigley book (a wee lil’ one) in the bargain basement for $1.28. When’s the last time you bought something other than gum for that little bank? I already marked my faves.

Pants and I talked about what types of alcohol were the most defining of each apartment.
1. Peterborough: large bottles of wine, specifically Yellowtail’s Shiraz-Cabernet
2. Henchman: cheap beer (Rolling Rock and High Life) and UV Vodka, oh and Jager!
3. Hanover: probably raz vodka to mix with Sprite. A handle of Beam was in the house for a while too….maybe tequila too.

Right now, Little Penguin White Shiraz. That’s what’s up! Lily Allen is also what’s up. (and shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!….Fall Out Boy!)

I hear Latifah and Travolta are in Hairspray together…!!!!

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The night of "10 Lil Crips" and stealing

Last night was like a true bonding night for Ry and me. This was after he and Pants went down the Linwood for an hour, while I was left to my own devices. Devices being a giant bottle of Yellowtail. I had announced when I got home that I was going to drink it all by myself. Well, not quite, but I had a good 4/5ths of it by the end of our night.

The reason I was so determined to drink it all was because when I got home from work I had to immediately shower. When I took the trash out at work a girl from Dick’s hucked her trash into the dumpster and mysterious liquid flew all over my face. It smelled like 20 different things and as she told me how sorry she was I could feel it trickle down my lip. I had another shirt under my pretzel shirt so I ripped off my pretzel shirt to wipe off my face and forearm. As I walked away wiping my face I started crying. What the hell am I doing working at a place where I even have to go to the dumpster to take out the trash? I have a college degree, unlike most of the people who work at Faneuil Hall for a fucking living. I felt pathetic and also stupid because something like that set me off to crying and fighting back tears, instead of just getting pissed.

Anyway, when they came back from the Linwood Pants soon went to bed and Ry and I were in my room each with one sock/Chinese slipper on, playing some Joanna Newsom and talking about JT Leroy, of all things! At about 2:45am Ry took a 7 minute sleepy on my bed. I was instructed to wake him with “Oy, mate!” which I did. He popped right up and we went to Shaw’s. It started out like a regular trip to Swahs. We found the mozz sticks, found a nice pizza (2 for $6), and Ry got a SmartWater. We were waiting in line forever so I opened up my Kettle chips. We were digging in and before we even moved an inch they were all gone. Ry whispered that he was going to get another bag because they were so good. He ditched our trash in the organic food aisle. He came back with a bigger $3.99 bag of Kettle chips (yogurt and dill? Mmmmm). So then we get so annoyed that we’re waiting in line that he suggests that I go down an aisle and put the pizza and the mozz sticks up my shirt. Of course I go to the organic aisle. I look around a bit, eyeing the cameras, then I slipped the 10″ pizza and sticks into my purse. I walked back down the aisle, looked at Ry and we waltzed outta there. Now I’m staying away for about a week.

At home we cooked up the food, and once it was done D called to say he was downstairs. The three of us sat in the kitchen talking about who knows…tater tots and hash browns. Ry continued to ask me to slap his arm, which I did because I never turn down an offer to slap a pal. Ben told me today he fell asleep to the slapping sound followed by Ry’s “Ooooohhh!”s of pain! We all realized it was 4:30am and decided to call it a night. Of course, D didn’t even drink the Miller Lite cans he brought, but at least he didn’t open them, take a sip or two and leave them on my window sill like usual. He was downloading some Jay Z diss by Cam’ron and vice versa, while we lied down and smoked some squares.

We woke up at 1:30pm. He saw the issue of the Dig that we were in and said he lost his. I told him he could have it because it was an extra from work. After he got his shit together he was about to walk out and then he remembered it, went into my room and came out with it folded up. Pretty dear. His parting words were about hollerin’ at him before the holiday. Good shit right there.

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post-Middlesex for Becky’s bday


I can’t stop loving John Frusciante, especially when he’s covering a song from Grease…even if it is out of his range. So amazing. Don’t know what it is. Here’s a list of some music that I made a few nights ago.

Artists’ Cds to plan on owning in life:

1. Bob Dylan
2. More Beatles
3. Wu Tang Clan
4. Johnny Cash
5. Nico
6. James Brown
7. T. Rex
8. Allman Brothers…?

I think I smell like High Life.

I had a weird dream last night about being in movie theatre seating but overlooking a green line station platform, possibly Boylston. Then I could see this kid nick nearby making out with some girl, and that was it. Not sure what that was all about. Tomorrow we’re finally all getting to IKEA!! Fucking yes.

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relax mode



people that only talk about jeans, clothes and sales. acting like that because they’re “supposed” to. “mediocrity is safe.”
toasted marshmallows at dylan’s. mine weren’t so great. i got 3 hours of restless sleep after i went to sleep and woke up 45 minutes later projectile vomiting right onto my bedspread. i jolted right up. nasty. then i just got sick later on and my throat stung. i still haven’t washed them. i want new ones. i was planning on cleaning it today. but then i went to dylan’s after work and smoked and he danced and was a muppet on the bed. gracie and matt were there. things were tense between them. dylan and i read each other’s minds. all i could think of was, “intersubjectivity,” which is honestly true. i need to pay rent + a late fee of 50 bucks. fuck me. i may listen to music and have a sleepy. i don’t work until 1. wooo fucking hoo. oh yeah dylan and i visited mark at cold stone and got some ice cream. mark was scared i was going to tip him and relieved when i told him i wasn’t going to. i’m not that mean.

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