Well, the people from my interview on Tuesday have officially offered me the job... pending the fact that I don't have any felonies on my record... let's keep our fingers crossed! :)

Right.

AND, I just got off the phone with Cali. And let's just say it's looking like you may only have four more weeks to party with me... so get it in while you can!

Happy happy! Joy joy!

Thank goodness for good friends. When it's all said and done, this guy probably saved my life last night. I jumped on Ragan's Friday Night Party Train a little too quickly. And luckily, somebody was willing to stay up and eat greasy fair food with me until I was in a better condition to drive myself home.

Normally I would feel bad about being in such a condition on a week night, but I realize this is one of my last nights to do it. When I get a grown up job with regular working hours, going out on week nights will be a thing of the past for me. Baby needs her beauty sleep. And I prefer not to get fired because I'm an alcoholic. :)

At some point in the night I did these things:

Wrote a pretty good bar poem
Kissed the talented and equally as trashed Mr. Shipley
Hugged Bobby Wayne and said something but I have no idea what
Pissed off a couple of cowboys coming in the front door
Ate some really good scrambled eggs
Talked on my phone so long the battery went completely dead mid, "what's your favorite scary movie" conversation

Holy cow the ka-yooootest lawn boy just came by. Wow. Yum. I have a lawnmower but I may let him do it just so I can watch him sweat... :)

It was a good night. And I'll be using tonight to recover. Have a lovely Thursday all.

Ouch.

And I'll fill you in on the rest later.

Peeps and peepettes,

I have absolutely nothing to do today except scrounge for sustenance at the grocery store, get my run on to make my ass just that much smaller, and put on my i heart bobby wayne gear and go to the show tonight. Life is good.

And it'll be even that much better when I hear a car door slamming and footsteps up my walk at midnight tonight...

If you get bored today, go to texasjack.net and tell them to get their butts up here for the Red Dirt Festival this weekend. It's been a tough couple of weeks for them. They need a good party.

I'm outtie.

has anyone seen my black corset??

its the tuesday night mudslide!

its the tuesday night mudslide!
Originally uploaded by Daisy Girl.

I just made that interview my bitch.

Like always :)

Anyway, what a reality check that was. I got frisked walking in the front door. I didn't realize they actually held court on the first floor of the building. And I walked past the entirely glassed in supervised visitation room where a sixteen-ish mom was crying and holding an infant on the way to the interview room.

Anyway, they sent in two girls my age to do the interview. It worked. I'll know by Friday they said. Hopefully I'll have a couple of other things lined up by Friday as well.

Damn, it's hot out there.

Woke up with another smile on my face this morning... what is UP?

Got an email this morning saying there's a non profit in town who now has my resume and is "very interested" in me for a Development job. Hmmmm... Development? You know what that means... $$$!! Not really what I wanna do for the rest of my life, but if the price is right, I'll do it for a year!

In an hour I have my first face to face interview since this whole ordeal began a couple of months ago. I'm gonna kill it! Wish me luck!

And look who's posting again. And I gotta go with Dogma and Buk on the last one... stop trying so hard!!!!

I'm getting that crazy look in my eye. I can feel it.

One of my bff's who coincidentally was my boyfriend for a number of years told me he always thought I'd end up with an artist. I always told him, no way man. I'm gonna be with the star football player.

But that was just because I didn't know any artists.

The football player can go fuck himself. Seriously, draw me a picture, write me a song, or better yet a poem (a great poem), and I'll love you for the rest of my life. The thing about artists is they don't lend themselves very well to relationships. I know this. (See previous post about commitment-phobia.) They usually drink too much, take too many drugs, sleep with too many other people, and that spells disaster for any kind of sane monogamous relationship. Plus they tend to have these massive swings from OMG the world is perfect and I fit perfectly in my own little unique corner of it, to OMG if I have to take one more breath in this town I'm gonna go throw myself off I-40.

But the sex is always hot. You gotta know that. So is it worth it? I dunno. It ends up very interesting and twisted and unpredictable... miles, no, continents away from the house in the country with 2.5 kids, a station wagon, a picket fence, and church on Sunday morning.

And I feel like I want to do something crazy. So keep your eyes peeled.

I haven't woken up with a smile on my face in ages. So what's the occasion?

I have no idea. It's probably because I feel like this week is gonna be it. Go or stay it doesn't matter anymore. It's all new and it's all improved and it's all worth waking up earlier for. It's probably because something that would have normally made me spend the day in bed crying happened yesterday. And it didn't even occur to me to be sad in the slightest. I'm growing up, I'm growing cold. And I'm making myself laugh uncontrollably.

I was practicing my self-awareness in the shower this morning (no, not that kind) and I chuckled to myself thinking almost every guy I've ever ended up wanting to be with I've given this massive bullshit spill about how I don't want to be with you like that. Can't we just have fun? Yes, I'm going to hurt your feelings, but you have to realize that up front. It's part of the package. I will be the center of your universe, and if you even insinuate you want a commitment from me, I'll start screening my phone calls and you'll never hear from me again.

It happens every. damn. time. Then inevitably I'll end up falling for them and we'll spend a few months never seeing sunlight then it'll all fall apart horribly. End of story.

I am the master of my destiny. Lovely.

Well, I've got a few things to get done today at the office and elsewhere. Kiss someone you love today.

Or someone you want to love.

Or someone who at least gets naked with you.

Adios amigas y amigos!

Who needs collagen when you can get dehydrated and up your salt intake like 1000% with breakfast at 3 a.m. at Shortcakes! I woke up this afternoon very thirsty and my lips were swollen. It was really weird. But all is well now.

Last night was a blast. Caroline, Kevin and I played a few games of pool at Roosters and had a few drinks with Ragan, Lisa, & Rod, then headed across the street to Dirty's for a few to say hi to Matt. Then it was off to the Weed to see the Stragglers. R,C, & K disappeared into the back of the bus to make her first introduction to the band. Then it was inside for the show where every last one of us had way tooooo much to drink and showed off our hippie/line dancing/hip hop/80's rock dancing skills at some point in the night. And I gotta give it to the Straggler's. They played a great show.

Everybody was starving so we headed to shortcakes where we crammed all six of us into a booth and ate the fastest meal I've ever seen. Then it was back to Ragan's for a few then home for some much needed sleep. Another successful night in Stillwater.

Now it's Sunday, my house is empty and I'm thinking about taking most of the week off. I'll be the only one at the office anyway, so I think I'm just gonna take it easy, concentrate on my 2 interviews this week, and get rested up for Saturday night...

Life is good. Love it.

Rachel! Are you kidding me!?!?! It's been nine years...

It's hilarious how much things stay exactly the same and end totally typically, yet in a way none of us would have expected. All of us perfect Christian, virgin girls from perfectly well-rounded Christian families...

Mom ran out, dad ran out. They're dating again, marrying people with kids way younger than us. I saw them kiss for the first time and it made me cry. Let's do shots.

If someone did a documentary on us, they'd win an oscar. Hands down.

Millionaire preachers, private educations, expensive cars, cheating wives, tenured professors, African mission get aways, drugs, alcohol, and dead spouses. Tell me that isn't academy award worthy.

It all starts over again at 9 a.m. tomorrow. Stillwater tomorrow night. Maroline is my stabilizing force. No drama.

Get crunk up on it.

Here's your tip for the day: Don't sweat your ass off working out then go drink a bunch of alcohol! Three Crown and cokes is the equivalent of oh... I'd say about... fifteen. In fact, the room is still spinning a little and I feel a little seasick. Maybe that's due to the sudden chainsmoker I became last night, who knows.

Well today the hustle and bustle of the nuptials starts. I offered mom her out last night. I said as your daughter and as someone who's deathly afraid of commitment, I feel it's my duty to tell you we can call this whole thing off right now if you want to.

But she said she still wanted to get married but she had lost a considerable amount of sleep over it in the last week. But the show's still on for 9 a.m. tomorrow morning.

Dani and I will yet again be doing more heavy drinking as caused by our parents decisions to get new families, so expect to see us out at some point in the weekend.

Buy us shots.

Just got in from my run...

Those three miles are going by faster and faster every night... I think I just might make a routine of this... and if that's the case, I'll be wearing cute little corsets and low slung jeans everywhere in no time. And you know what, at that point in time, if that point in time comes (and if the pain my entire body is in is any indication, it won't be too long) none of you get a piece. None of yas. Unless, of course, you're already getting a piece now. :) And in that case, we'll just continue on our Nine Inch Nails and Rob Zombie merry little way. Ah, your curiosity is piqued, no?

The little sis traipses into town tomorrow evening and the dysFUNctional festivities begin. The grandparents follow suit on Friday night, the wedding is Saturday morning, I *hear* there's going to be some kind of party at my house Saturday afternoon, then it's out on the town with Dani Saturday night. So yeah, I'm booked.

Well, it's time to hit the showers and hit the hay. I just thought I'd write and tell you how much I love you tonight since I will have absolutely nothing to tell you tomorrow because my job drains the everloving life outta me.

**cue Mrs. Rosenberg**

Have a fabulous Thursday, dears. Today is the only June 23rd, 2005 you will ever have. What are you gonna do with it?

Kiss someone. Preferably me ;)

----------------------------------------------

Ok, it's 1 a.m. and I can't sleep. We shouldn't run so late. I'm good to go for like the next 3 or 4 hours. Anyway, I was laying in bed not sleeping and the wheels were turning and of course I started thinking about sex. See, if I'm not having it, I'm thinking about it. I'm a guy that way. That's how God made me. I have friends who theorize that all repressed Baptist girls have this problem. But it happens, nonetheless. And I was specifically thinking about the fact that if I was never self-conscious about my body during sex (which I'm not to a certain extent) I would dig it even more than I do now. And that's kinda hard to imagine. I think that sex is the one time I get to kind of...how do you say...come out of my shell and not worry about what's going on around me or what's happening in my world or the world in general and just freakin have fun. And I can hear a couple of voices in my head right now saying, damn girl, if you got any more into than you do now, you'd give me a heart attack! And yeah, that makes me smile.

But then I started thinking about why I react differently to different guys in that situation. Sometimes I feel like I'm totally on top of the situation (haha) and other times, very rarely, but sometimes I feel totally stupid and naive and boring. Take for instance this one experience I had with a guy who was sweet and perfect and everything you could ask for when you come right down to that moment, but his previous experience included being with girls who apparently like to get naked, stand on their heads, spin around, scream quotes from their favorite anarchist while yielding various bondage devices and giving him the most incredible head he's ever had in his life (still upside down, mind you) all at the same time.

Who can top that? Of course I ended up feeling oafish and yawnable. I just like to have fun with it for what it is, and an outlandish performance (most times) is not in my repertoire. So why do I react differently to others than I did in that situation? I think it's because most of the people I've been with haven't really been around the block all that much... or it's been a really long time since they did. So the little things are magnificent to them. And girls like nothing better than to feel like they can set of actual literal firecrackers inside your body... sometimes with as little as a whispered word. Ok, maybe 2 words. Yum. :)

So what's the point of all this? I have no idea. They're just thoughts that run through my mind when it's 1 a.m. and I'm not sleeping. I guess the point is, I dig the simple things, because they can be the most rewarding. And with that said, I'm gonna go crawl back under the covers and try to shut this thing off.

Sweet dreams, ya'll.

Finally! Something good to read!! I may very well never be bored at work again.

The way the male mind works... no one said it better than Dawson's evil twin in R.O.A.

I wonder if she cums easily... or at all. I won't be with a girl who can't. That's like asking a question in a letter...

I'm hungry.

The things we do just to get a little rubbage... ;)

So I told one of my volunteers today that my last day is coming up pretty soon. So she says, Well, if you don't have anybody in mind, can I put a bug in your ear?

Well, yeah, sure. The board's gonna need all the help they can get!

So she tells me the name of this lady that she's talked to about the organization and thinks she'd be interested in the job. Cool. Right on. I'll have someone call her.

Not two minutes later the phone rings and it's this lady. And she's like do you have a job description you could fax me because I'm going to have to think about this before I decide if I want to do it.

Ummmm, lady. I don't know where you're getting your information, but you haven't been offered the job. And we'll call you when we're ready to talk.

Good Lord! I get the feeling some people have never in their lives done anything in the professional realm. People never cease to dumbfound me.

And on that note, damn. Some people just seem so arrogant and full of themselves sometimes. I know we all have our moments, but lately it seems like the world is ate up with people (ahem... boys) who suddenly act like they are the ultimate be all and end all of the rotation of the planet. And I'm pretty good about spotting them right off the bat, but sometimes I give them the benefit of the doubt, but they always prove me right. And I don't mean to rant, but come on! Get over yourself already!

Anywho, if you get board, head over to the busblog where Tony's posted a totally hot picture of a naked chick wearing nothing but rope lights.

Well ladies and gents, I did it. I hauled my lazy butt three whole miles tonight (after coming home from work and taking a nap, of course). Yeah, it hurt like hell. And it's funny because we got about half way through and decided to power walk it for a few... then mom says, ok you wanna run to the stop sign?

No.

Come on, you can!

Yeah, I know I can. I just don't want to.

So just to prove a point I walked to the stop sign, then ran the rest of the way. I can't help it. Rebellion is in my nature. And I got to thinking, most of my life has come down to that sentiment: I know I can, but I don't want to or yeah, I know I can do this, but will I? See, the thing is, no matter how drunk and stupid I get, I really am not lacking in the self-confidence department for the most part. I am, however, lacking in the good judgment/motivation department. I've got all the ability in the world, sometimes I just make the wrong decisions about what to do with it.

And I started thinking about why I'm like that. And I think the first part of it comes mostly from Coach H in high school. I became a woman those 3 years. He left that job and consequently another coaching job after that under the scrutiny and criticism that, "Maybe you'd be better suited for a college coaching job. These girls are in highs school and you're working them too hard. They're not old enough to handle this kind of pressure." Except that pressure got him a 6A State Championship. I remember during 2-a-days in late summer when we practiced at the Optimist Club (old unairconditioned airplane hanger) in Norman and the boys practiced on the court next to us. They would stand against the wall watching us after their practice was over and wince in pain just watching some of the drills we had to do. Yeah, you learn how to stand there and take a full speed charge from a 6'2'' 200 pound girl and see how tough it makes you. It was like football without pads on a tile floor.

The boys were pussies. Even they knew it. So that's where the whole pain tolerance and my confidence in my ability comes from. But follow-through is my problem. Somehow I've got to learn how to be more motivated and make better decisions. I've never been good at that. Maybe I'm a lost cause. Who knows. But I'm working on it.

And now it's sleepy time. Have a good Wednesday, you.

I've just choked on my eggroll.

You are the mast of every situation.

Someone please tell me wtf that means. I went running with mom at OCU last night. It hurt like hell. I did something like a mile and a quarter running and walking. She did three. Sprinting. And finally when it was all over and I was just enjoying the scenery of the campus and the night air, she says, hey let's run down past the law school then be done. Are you kidding me!! That's like a mile away. But I did it anyway. And it felt pretty good. I think we're doing it again tonight.

While perusing the blogs today, I noticed that Rob has brought up a very interesting subject and it got my wheels turning. He says women always bitch because they want a "nice" guy but all they ever date are assholes. And I've been doing some thinking about this myself lately. I think the statement that women want "nice" guys is a bit off, if you ask me. I think there's a difference between a guy who is nice and a guy who gets labeled "nice guy." For example, say I'm out and I meet someone and talk to them for a good part of the night and at the end of the night, Caroline asks me, so what do you think? If I say, I like him. He's nice. Good! Score for him. If I say, Well, he's a really nice guy. Ummm, that's probably a no go. The phrase, "He's a really nice guy," seems to implicate a major flaw somewhere. Either he's a dog, he's clingy and annoying, or is leaning toward the gay end of the rainbow spectrum.

So with that said, I think it would be more accurate to say that women want a guy who's nice. A guy who's cool enough to hold his own. A guy who is thoughtful, but not overly attentive. Ya dig? Women want a normal guy. An easy-going, decent guy who's nice. In my experience most of the "nice" guys need a valium or two to calm them down. Relax dude. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but you're killin' my buzz.

So there's my two cents for the day. Take it for what it's worth. And be the mast of your situation.

I wanted to write a poem tonight
but all the words
are jumbled up in my head
and the first letters are the only ones
making themselves known

and well,
that's not any help.

I suppose it's because
he asked that banker bitch
to move in with him
and it's my fault
because I blew him

off.

But still I can't find the words
to tell you about
the stone Miss Americas
with no names.
One was Jayne and one was Shawntel
but that's all I know.

I sat on the cold stones by the fountain tonight
listening to june bugs
and watching one struggle for its life
lying on its back
unable to turn right side up.

I felt like some evil,
maniacal god
content to watch him struggle
though I had every ability to rectify
the situation.

And I couldn't help but think
if I had worn my retainer
like Dr. Ellisal told me to
I could have been Miss America.

But it doesn't change the fact
that he promised me a poem
in two days

and it's been three.

I'm going to be a nasty little literature snob here for a second, k? I sort of apologize in advance, except no I don't.

Recently, I can't go anywhere or talk to anyone (boys, mostly) without someone bringing up Hunter S. Thompson. OMG, he's the fucking greatest. Did you see Fear and Loathing? Did you read it? That dude is the shit. And on and on and on. Kerouac follows a close second. Let me start by saying, yeah those guys are great in their own right and I'm glad people are even aware of who they are.

But it's all starting to remind me of how suddenly everybody who lives south of Stillwater is a Sooner fan, because they won the national championship one year. Those people were nowhere to be found during the Schnellenberger/Blake years. And I'm trying to figure out who the rock star was that said Hunter S. Thompson was the shit... because, well, it all seems so... bandwagon to me.

I know people who would argue that all the Beats got their stuff from this guy... Baudelaire. So check him out for a change... and this guy, my personal fave, Frank O'Hara.

I'm cool with the other guys, I'm just saying... name one thing besides Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas that Thompson wrote... then you're allowed off the bandwagon.

So it sounds like everybody's Mondays are kind of crazy so far. However, no matter how bad your day is, I bet it's nothin' compared to this guy's.

So I woke up this morning planning to head out first thing and get two new front tires for the car. If you've been in my car lately, you know why. As soon as I get in my car and on my way, I get a call from the office that my replacement is here and ready for me to train her... ok. I'll come in. Then I find out she's supposed to shadow me all day. Um, no. I've got a month to do this and stuff I need to get done today, thanks.

And in unhappier news, I haven't heard the latest but as of last night at 10 p.m. Dani's 7 wk old chihuahua who weighs 14 oz. was dying. He's been in the hospital since last Friday with some kind of infection and they said if he didn't improve by midnight last night, they were going to have to let him go. She was upset, naturally.

And it seems one of our fellow bloggermiesters is having a bit o' drama regarding his blogging/working situation. It seems some wires got crossed and now we've lost him altogether. Chin up, kiddo. It's happened to the best of us. Hence the reason you will not find my name anywhere on this blog. :)

Well, it's 12:30 and I'm hungry but I can't leave for lunch because the chick's still watching training videos. AH! Curse this day in all its Mondayness!

It's a weird feeling watching kids you barely know give your dad Father's Day gifts. And in exactly 6 days I'll be meeting another new little step monster. I echo the lil sis's sentiments that mom and dad traded in for new families. Which is mostly my number one reason why I hope this California move works out. Because that means one thing: I call the shots on holiday traveling. No more traipsing around three different states to spend "Christmas" and all the days that accompany it with four to six different families because I'm "obligated." And I wouldn't put it past me to put up my own little tree and make it a Tucker Thomas Christmas on the beach. So we shall see.

The next few weeks are gonna be tough for me, I'm not afraid to say it. My life is in limbo with my job/living situation and the last of our splintered little family unit is getting married and moving out of state next weekend. So if you don't see me out, OR if you see me out and OUT OF CONTROL (more than usual) just hug me, ok. :)

I'm gonna try to keep the drama to a minimum. Have a great Monday, compadres.

I've got all the symptoms...

I've been upright for a total of probably ten minutes today, if that. I got to bed around 4 a.m. this morning and slept til 2p.m. At which time I promptly moved the pillow to the couch and fell asleep around 4 p.m. watching Fallen, that freaky Denzel Washington movie. It is now 5:35 p.m. and I'm contemplating doing something horribly and unhealthily fried for dinner, just because I can and as an incentive to start working out on Monday.

My options are many this evening, and that's always a good feeling. Could stay home, could go out and get my Saturday night party on, could hang out with a long lost love that hasn't been around for a while... maybe I'll do all three.

It's a beautiful day and the only thing that's for sure is that between the hours of 7-9p.m. my yard is getting mowed.

Tomorrow's Father's Day. Don't forget to tell your dad thanks for being horny.

The band kept handing me shots...

It's like Bombay Sapphire...

See, Stevie knew what was goin' on. Do you ever feel like, yeah I wanna say somethin', but no, I really shouldn't? So I won't.

Tonight kicked ass. Stillwater for a few hours to officially say Goodbye to Carrie (even though more than likely I'm going to see her again before she leaves...) then to catch the second set of TJ at the WD.

Shots shots and more shots. I'm sorry, Dave and I are on the phone screaming at each other. Mother Fucker. Makes for good poems, but whatever.

Man love at its best.

That's Craig and Kevmo for those of you who don't know.

Not too shabby for a Thursday night, if I don't say so myself. Went down to LiT to see Plainview AKA Travis and Justin play an acoustic set... only stayed for a few because as I was standing there, suddenly the temperature outside dropped about 20 degrees and the wind started blowing. Headed back to the WD before I had to start screaming, "Auntie Em! Auntie Em!"

Covered in dirt from the dust storm that caught me on the way back, I arrived at the WD safe and sound just in time to find a girl puking EVERYWHERE in the bathroom. Nice touch. Learn how to hold your liquor, bitch. It's only 11 p.m. Anyway, I returned to people cheering on the cars trodding their way through the flood on 23rd and Broadway on the ABC news broadcast. It's a slow night at the bar when people are getting drunk and screaming at the news.

Anyway, the band was ok. Ryin was mad that they were ripping off other people's songs, Kevin said the lead guy looked like a really skinny Copeland, and Ragan said he liked 'em. Mixed reviews. Now I'm home and it's still thundering and I'm loving it. Good sleepy time for Daisy Girl. And hopefully good dreams.

Tomorrow it's Ms. Trentham's (AKA Ms. Not Joking) going away party in stilly, then to the Dog for my boys from Vernon. Should be an interesting night at the very very very least.

Peace out homie G's. Never change. And I love you all.

Fo' real.

Today has been a veritable smorgasboard of interesting events. J and I ended up going shopping for the office then going out to lunch, only making one pit stop along the way to see her wedding dress which was just shipped in yesterday. And well, we couldn't just look at the pretty package, so we made the nice sales lady pull down all sorts of veils and tiaras and necklaces and earrings and we just put the whole ensemble on for display. And I've gotta say, everybody knows I'm not one for weddings and huge displays of pomp and circumstance in the name of love, but this dress, ah this dress! It's possibly the most classic and most classy I've ever laid eyes on. And when you add the accessories, it looked like she was sporting the crowned jewels. For once, I didn't look at a young pretty girl in a gaudy white dress that didn't compliment her figure at all but was the one her mother insisted on her having and think, you poor poor thing. You try too hard, dear, and you let others control your life. And your marriage is probably going to suck anyway.

J looked stunning. And I appreciated a wedding dress possibly for the first time in my life.

Then I came back here to an email that said it's going to be a couple of weeks before I find out about California. It's not bad news, it's just more waiting. And those of you who know me, know patience is not my virtue. So to quell my anxieties about my uncertain future some benevolent force in the universe sent me a letter saying I have an interview here in the City in a week and a half for a job that I hope I'm almost a shoo-in for, and I've run the numbers and the salary will afford me to open and fill a... *gasp*... savings account!

Huh? What's that? Exactly.

The house is all mine from now until Sunday. I thought about staying home tonight, but it's free beer night (for the estrogen producers among us, at least) and it's not often I have a night when I can come home late, do whatever I want, and not have to worry about being quiet as a church mouse so as not to wake someone up! So I may make a cameo at the Dog tonight. May.

Right.

Blah Thursday.

I think it's the weather. The only saving grace is that my first thought upon opening my eyes this morning was, "I get to sleep all day tomorrow if I want to..."

Meanwhile, I've got the Child Welfare job interview next week. And I'm still waiting to hear from the folks in Cali. I expect it will be soon.

Oy, mi vida loca.

I have absolutely nothing interesting to say.

You are fabulous, each and every one of you. And I bless you.

...the great work begins.

Antarctic Eskimo: Ice Fisher of the Polar Deep

Maybe I'll give birth to a baby covered with thick white fur and that way she won't be cold. My breasts will be full of hot cocoa so that she doesn't get chilly and if it gets really cold, she'll have a pouch I can crawl into... like a marsupial. And we'll mend together, that's what we'll do. We'll mend.

Wonder of all wonders. After three years of having cox digital cable, I've figured out how to work the remote for Video on Demand. I can actually rewind, fast forward, and pause my favorite movies and documentaries.

Consequently, I have spent the past two hours watching, rewinding, and replaying certain scenes from Angels in America. I know, I know, I've talked about it alot. But seriously people. If I were ever to see the original play onstage somewhere, my brain would probably explode from the sheer excitement and profundity of it. Never in my life have I read/seen/heard any work of art that so skillfully and brilliantly weaves the social/political/religious so tightly together. I cannot over-emphasize this enough. If you consider yourself to be even slightly socially aware or have even the slightest spark of the hope of social justice within you (and/or have any aspirations of writing professionally), you must see/read Angels in America. I'm sure they've got it at blockbuster.

And that is all for tonight, gentle readers. Sleep well.

What a day.

Can't recount the seedier details as to protect the obviously guilty, suffice it to say that the most unexpected things happen at the weirdest times. And I continue to hold the title of reigning champion of keeping your composure in uncomfortable situations.

Years and years of practice at being a paid escort for high level business executives has it's advantages, dears. ;)

But whatev.

I started doing some stuff for the padre today. And at this pace, my going rate is about $25-30 an hour. Not too shabby, if you ask me. Baby's gotta do somethin' for her drinkin' money.

It feels nice outside. Who wants to get nekkid?

Your dose of truth for today, brought to you by our old favorite hack, Hank, in Dangling in the Tournefortia:

on the hustle

I suppose
one of the worst times was
when
after a drunken reading and
an all night party
I promised to appear at
an eleven o'clock English
class
and there they sat
nicely dressed
terribly young
awfully comfortable.

I only wanted to sleep
and I kept the wastebasket
close
in case I
puked.

I think I was in the state of
Nebraska or Illinois or
Ohio.

no more of this,
I thought,
I'll go back to the factories
if they'll have me.

"why do you write?"
a young man asked.

"next question,"
I responded.

a sweet birdie with blue eyes
asked, "who are your 3
favorite contemporary
writers?"

I answered, "Henry Chinaski,
Henry Chinaski, and Henry..."

somebody asked,
"what do you think about Norman
Mailer?"

I told them that I didn't think
about Norman Mailer and then I
asked, "doesn't anybody have a
beer?"

there was this silence, this
continuing silence and the class
and the prof looked at me and I
looked at them.

then the sweet birdie with
the blue eyes
asked,
"won't you read us one of your poems?"

and then that's when I
got up and walked
out

I left them in there
with their prof
and I walked down
through the campus
looking at the
young girls
their hair
their legs
their eyes
their behinds...

they all look so good,
I thought, but
they're going to grow up
into nothing but
trouble...

suddenly I braced myself
against a tree and began
puking...

"look at that old
man," a sweet birdie with
brown eyes said to a sweet
birdie with pale green eyes,
"he's really fucked-up..."

the truth, at
last.

Well happy hump day indeed to you all. Looks like it's going to storm again today. I'm not sure why but I'm totally in the mood for rain lately. It just calms me down, I think.

So Caroline and I went to see Mr. & Mrs. Smith last night. I dug it.

I dig the topic on her blog today too. As for my best compliment... it's a little too personal to share with the world, but let's just say it's a completely ordinary thing to say to someone you love and it came from a precious blond boy, and it probably saved my life. Some things just stick with you.

...mmmmm....

There's a rumbly in my tumbly...

Man. Getting out of this place sooner than later is sounding better and better every minute. I just opened an email in my inbox from some guy who has published a new anti-abortion website and is contacting PRC's all over the country trying to get them to link him. These people make me wanna scream.

Pictures of 7 week old bloody aborted fetus feet in a doctors palm. Yes, please, I'd love to show that to my clients. I'm sure that'll solve all their problems.

Goddammit it just pisses me off to no end. And here's the main reason: the last girl I had in for post-abortion counseling told me something really sad. I've heard a lot of things in my time here and nothing shocks me anymore, but it's amazing the things that guilt and shame can make you do. We humans find ways to punish ourselves in the most horrible fashions sometimes. This particular woman used to punish herself for having a termination by making sure every time she sat down at a computer she would look up aborted baby pictures, just to remind her how horrible she was.

And the people who claim most passionately to want to eliminate pregnancy termination are egging on the very reasons that cause it in the first place: guilt and shame. Damn this pisses me off!

And is one of the A#1 reasons I'm quitting. People's (especially main stream Christian's) views on things are so freakin skewed that they completely miss the forrest for the trees and become completely and totally ineffective and at worst, completely destructive.

And now, my rant is finished. I could go on for days, but I won't.

I'm outta here at 3 to work at dad's for a few hours to make some extra dough. Looks like it might be a girl's night tonight... and that's a grrrreeeeeat thing. :)

And despite my horrific subject matter, have a great Tuesday ya'll.

Here's something.

I thought I should make it a point to write you something when I'm on the upswing. Maybe it's the 3 cups of hot chocolate I've had tonight, don't ask me why, but I generally feel really super good right now.

I started to get anxious today after I pressed the send button, sending my resignation letter to all the pertinent members of my board, when I remembered...

This is it.

I only get one chance at this thing (life). I don't get a do over when I'm fifty and decide I should have done something I really wanted to do. It's not about the corporate dollars, it's not about the benefits (although they're nice), it's not about being safe. It's about doing what this chick wants to do. Period. It's about putting it all out there knowing you may very well fall flat on your ass but you might not. And it might be the best thing you've ever done.

It might change your life. It might change someone else's life. Or it might just suck and you can file it in the "learning experiences" folder. But whatever, the fact remains that you just have to DO. I remember literally hundreds of things my coach in high school used to tell me, but none do I remember more than this one:

He who hesitates loses.

Right-O, coach. No looking back. I'm young and this world's a whole hell of a lot bigger than the little box of a city I've lived in for the past 17 years.

And maybe I won't get the job in California. Maybe I'll have to wing it here for a few months getting by selling guitars. And that'll be ok too. But it's not lookin' like it.

So, yeah. I'll probably be pissing and moaning about it in a week or two about how scared I am and how sad I'll be to leave and how lonely I'll be when I get there.

But I'm all those things here too on the north side of this town.

At least there, I'll be lonely under a palm tree. Or maybe I won't be lonely at all.

So Michael Jackson didn't do it and I'm out of a job.

I consider myself officially resigned.

It's balls to the wall now, people.

It's 1:25. Do you know where your children are?

Do you remember when they used to say that on the news? It's 10 p.m., do you know where your children are? Goddamn news people trying to get all the kids in trouble. Mind your own!! But I was too young to be doing anything really fun at that point anyway, except maybe watching the weekly Disney movie on TV with my parents, except no... I wasn't doing that either because those movies came on on Sunday nights, and we were at church.

I was a deprived child in more ways than I know.

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I've 21 of those emails in my trashcan from today only. I have no idea how to make them stop. I've got every spam blocker in the world turned on and it still doesn't help. Well, you know what. I don't need any Viagra, Levitra, or Cialis, nor does anyone I know. Trust me.

I have absolutely nothing to say today, as you've probably deducted by now. I spent the day yesterday with mom shopping for an outfit to "wear on the plane" (to Hawaii) for their honeymoon. Maybe it's just me, but if I'm going to be on a damn airplane for TEN HOURS I do NOT need to do it in style. I need a sweat shirt, a ponytail and some sleeping pills.

So riding down the escalator at Dillards she says that she wants Dani and I both to take them to the airport after the wedding because she's pretty sure it will be the last time she sees both of her children together for a long time... which is probably true. So we had a weepy little moment at the mall. Dani found out last week that she's for sure moving to San Antonio, and I'll know for sure in a couple of weeks if I'm moving this party to SoCal. So our family's dysfunction will be dispersed all over the country by way of California, Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri. Each family member in a different state. Yeah, we're real close. Can't ya tell?

Well, Jen left for the day and I'm bored. Somebody else blog while I go drill some holes in the wall.

Cuz Craig aint no hollah back girl!

Originally uploaded by Daisy Girl.


I believe his exact words were, "Hell yeah, I love this shit!"

Say it with me,

B-A-N-A-N-A-S!!

Boring Saturday nights...

Boring Saturday nights...
Originally uploaded by Daisy Girl.

Well allo, allo, allo!

It's noon and I just rolled out of bed. Mom just stopped by to pick up her tennis shoes, she and the bf are going bike riding at the lake. Aw, how cute, right?

She noticed I had just woken up and said, I guess you decided to go out last night after all... I told her no, the storm just kept me up all night. She said, what storm?

Are you kidding me? Some people can sleep through anything. I was watching the news at 5 a.m. and they said there was a cloud to ground lightening strike something like every second.

Anyway, I stayed in last night and out of the smoke for the sake of my allergies. I'm pretty sure all the smoke and alcohol aren't doing great things for my immune system, hence the staying out of the bar this weekend. So last night I watched 2 movies, Phantom of the Opera and Closer. Phantom, I dug. (I'm a big fan of musicals and huge productions.) I have to say though, of the two, Closer was my fave. I'm dark and twisted like that and found it very realistic and interesting. The break up scene with Clive Owen and Julia Roberts is probably my favorite in history.

I said Goddamn! 100% pissed offed-ness.

I have no idea what today holds. May end up at Acousticadia tonight... dad's workin' and said he'd meet me at the gate with a pass. In any event, it's a beautiful day. Get out.

Be happy.

And don't forget to take your meds.

Greetings from my sleepy little life...

I slept til 10 this morning, got up and cooked breakfast, then crashed again til 1:15. And I'm only doing more of the same for the rest of the day. And you know what I'm doing tonight? Absolutely nothing. Nada, senors y senoritas. No Def Leppard, no Charlie Robison, no drinky drinky. I need a break, and this weekend is it.

What I need to do is clean this house and mow the yard. I think I will. And right now I'm apartment hunting for my (hopefully) impending move. I've got an interview coming up in a couple of weeks so I thought I'd scout out some places to peruse so as to make the most of my short trip the OC.

Well, I have nothing else to say, so:

I'm out like trout.

Like you care.

Kiss it.

Real hard. Yo.

Every time you speak you weaken the nation!

It was good to see Dana Lee. Saying her name always reminds me of Puff the Magic Dragon who made his home in the Land of Hanalei. Speaking of, I feel like I've been puffing the magic dragon at the moment. I'm uber tired today. It could be the 3 a.m. bed time last night, or maybe the severe thunderstorm watch we're under at the moment. It's days like these that I'm supposed to be curled up under my covers with my A#1 fat boy, Tucker.

I feel like going low-key tonight. Don't feel much like being in the middle of the crowd tonight, even though I'm sure there will be plenty of party-goers in attendance. I love Stoney shows when no one is there. I'm sure he doesn't love it, but it's great for me. More than anything, I go to his shows to listen. I dunno, he just does it for me that way.

Can I just make an observation? Everybody is kvetching about their significant others right now. I always knew it would be this way. This spring everybody and I mean everybody was hooking up and in love and all that wonderful shit, and a couple of months later, here we are all whining and complaining because things aren't perfect. Everybody's doing it. It's all over the web and all over the bar. Everybody take a deep breath and quit analyzing things and get laid if you can. It's a great stress reliever. Or so I hear.

I'm gonna go curl up in one of the counseling rooms and take a nap now.

Home: downtown by way of NW 23rd.

This is our lives on holiday...

Home: downtown by way of NW 23rd.

I left a full double crown and coke in the first stall of the girls bathroom if anybody wants it. At 1:15 a.m.it was time to put it down. Shout outs to my boy Alek (AKA Alex P. Keaton with a K) from Michigan. Cutie Patootie and and Bleu fan!

Man, I had lots to say but now I can't remember any of it. Oh yeah. I came home by way of NW 23rd to hit Tacky Taco then up May to la hacienda. I drove past the headquarters of the Baptist General Convention of Oklahoma AKA "the Baptist building" on 44 and May. On my last night in town, I will make it a point to at least pee in their parking lot. If you know me, you know how much this means to me. And I know they have security, but I'm sure the only qualifications are that you believe girls who get pregnant out of wedlock are whores and that the gays will burn in a firey hell for all eternity.

Whatever. I can take those pansies.

Well, it's 2 a.m. and I gotta hit tha hay for a long day of work starting at around 11 a.m. tomorrow, then lunch with my gal pal Wana Lee Deeks, then an exciting night out with Mr. LaRue.

I'm 'bout it 'bout it.

Fo sho.

Phone interview granted and happening this afternoon.

Holy crap.

Be still and let the beauty come.

I'm trying!!

----------------------------

So I just got off the phone... wow. That happened way faster than I thought. It's cool to feel like you connect with people, ya know. And why is it that I feel like I work better with males than females. And avoiding the smart ass answer, I think it's because I work better with people who just roll with it and don't stress too much over things. And those people tend to be male. We talked for about 20 minutes and laughed through a good part of it. That was refreshing.

He said, "Why do you want to move to California?"

I said, "Brad, have you ever been to the midwest?" He said, "Actually, yes, I spent a summer in Iowa."

"And you didn't stay, Brad. You didn't stay."

He laughed and said, "Right on. 'Nuff said."

We talked about fundraising and PR and volunteer retention and special event planning and grant writing and he said he wanted to make sure I had good writing skills. I just laughed and said, "I don't think you'll be disappointed." And at least 2 points in the conversation he said I sounded like a "visionary," and of course to that I just giggled and said, "Oh Brad, you flatterer."

Just kidding.

But honestly I think he was impressed and said he'd be in touch. I smell a quick trip to the OC in my near future. :)

Par-tay.

Holy shit. Dani got a blog.

Song for the day: Tracy Chapman, Fast Car. One of my all time faves. Reminds me of teenage late-night back-roads in small town Oklahoma.

I had another one of those dreams last night. He called and said, "Can I come over? I need to see you." A bit shocked and perplexed, I said OK. So he came over and said, "I had to see you. You know, see you." Ummm, ok. Surely he's not suggesting what I think he's suggesting. "We all have needs you know. There's no reason we should deny ourselves just because we aren't in relationships."

Right on.

And he kissed me and his lips were hard and strange and both our eyes were opened. And I forced myself into waking.

I haven't even thought about what this one means yet.

Well, tonight it's Bleu acoustic at le dog. And Stoney is a go for Thursday as well. My life is stressing me out and it's fucking me up in ways I've never seen. I'm tired all the time and I have this weird skin rash thingy that you can't really see but I can feel it and it's on my back, my left thigh, and the back side of my left knee. It itches. And I think it's from this new soap I've been using. Although I don't usually wash the back of my knees, so I'm not sure what that's all about.

Hahaha, that just reminded me of the time Matt G. was washing his feet in the shower (yes, bent over scrubbing his feet with slippery soap, as is his ritual every morning) and busted his ass royally. I really would have paid a decent amount of money to see that. And I've never met anyone else who made such a point of scrubbing their feet in the shower just out of habit. But whatever.

Everybody have a stupendous hump day.

Dani's new baby: he's a chi-hoo-a-hoo-a!

Originally uploaded by Daisy Girl.

News on the home front...

I got a call, as promised, today from the PR Director of the non-profit in OC who called me about a job possibility last week. They're very interested in me and want to interview me. But somehow I think they're under the impression I'm moving to the OC anyway, so the next time I'm out, why don't I just pop in.

So, I've queried the parents and the general consensus is that the cost of a plane ticket should not be inhibitive to something that could potentially alter the course of my life for the better. However, I think I'm going to see if I can get a phone interview set up first before I fly the friendly skies 1,500 miles on a whim. Seems like the smart thing, huh?

They're also talking to me about finishing grad school. Seems that USC has a Long Beach campus that cuts the cost of the $1000 a credit hour tuition at the main campus in half.

Sweet.

Wish me luck.

I know it makes me the biggest dork in the world, but I dig Kelly Clarkson. There's just something about girls who have that kinda range that impresses me. Not many people can do that. Speaking of, Faith Hill is one of those people who can. I know she had to take a butt load of lessons because she hasn't always been that way, but when it comes down to it, say what you want, but girl's got pipes. I happened onto her new video last night. And it was good to finally see her in a t-shirt and jeans.

Anyway, I slept harder than I've slept in years I think last night. I laid down around 10:30 and didn't move a muscle until 8:10 a.m. this morning. It was one of those sleeps when you wake up and it takes you a minute to figure out where you are... those are the good kind. I'm sure it's a product of my bedtimes progressively getting closer and closer to dawn lately. (As you have probably discerned, I'm a big believer in paying attention to your dreams) And lately I've been having lots of re-do dreams... where I have a chance to go back and do/say things differently... or where someone else does/says something differently and things end more desirably. What does this mean?

Mare's having an attack of the crazies today. Man, girls can get nutty when they get dumped. I suppose all of us go through that at some point. I almost put a girl in the hospital once.

But she deserved it.

You know what I'm really tired of? My tonsils retracting in searing pain every time I yawn or try to get something out of one of my teeth with my tongue. Allergies are for the birds. And Claritin's not helping.

I guess I need to get back on my vitamins.

I saw Crash last night. Good flick. It was pretty intense and maybe a bit exaggerated on the racism end of things. I mean, it's LA for goodness sakes. People in Oklahoma aren't even that verbal about their disdain for people who are anything darker than a shade of pale death. But it was good nonetheless. Five bucks well spent. Surprisingly, Sandra Bullock was very believable as an uber-spoiled alpha bitch. Good job.

Man, those of us who stayed in Sunday night apparently missed quite the party. Who can resist a 300 pound redneck humping a blow up doll?

All good things must come to an end.

We solved Lisa's murder. Her adulterating brother-in-law stuck a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger, Nate and Brenda are finally back together, Claire's dealt with the abortion and her lesbian tendencies, David got to confront his kidnapper in jail, and I have a feeling we're about to find out that George is schizophrenic.

I'm pretty sure Federico and Vanessa are going to get back together... as well as Billy and Claire (now that he's not psycho anymore).

The thing I love most about this show is that somebody gets off'd in a horribly tragic and unexpected way within the first 45 seconds of every episode.

So we'll find out tonight, 8 p.m... the last season begins:

HBO: Six Feet Under, The last season.

No Action

So yeah, it's been that kinda day. I got a late start due to a rather late night, but it's all good. I had a deep philosophical blog about relationships that I just totally filed in the circular bin because I didn't feel like going there at the moment and everything was just coming out wrong.


No Action

Hope everybody's Manic Monday is going well and that you're not too torn up about anything you may or may not have done/remembered doing this weekend. Mine was cool and just kept gettin' cooler. This weekend should be a repeat.

Here's hopin'.

Huh? What?



I wasn't even going to go out last night... We headed out to Tuttle in the midst of all the craziness that is Oklahoma's tornado season for some grub at mom and pop M's. Then swung back by Jenny's for a drink, then out to the Dog for Macon.

The night ended with more drinks, Napoleon D., and BFF's passed out in random positions throughout my house at 5 a.m.

I don't think I'll be making the White Trash Bash tonight. I feel like a magnet and my bed is polar north. There's no escaping it. And I'm having some craaaazy dreams. The one I had this morning involved me inhabiting a black woman's body for 12 years... and everyone thought I was missing...

Man, I've been having some weird dreams lately. I'm not totally sure but I think last night's featured Kelly Kapowski. My life is a mess. This always happens when things get crazy.

Speaking of crazy. My cat is literally climbing up my bedroom window... inside the curtains, inside the blinds, stretching as far as he can to the top. Must be a fly or something.

Anyway, I'm going to spend the rest of the day applying for more jobs on the left coast then heading out to my oh-so-favorite Oklahoma redneck town, Tuttle, for some grub with Dixie's fam, then to her sister's for drinks... then, I dunno what. We'll see what the night holds.

So it’s Friday night. I’m hanging out at the house sippin’ on gin and juice, baby. Ok, my equivalent: bacardi and coke. Bored out of my mind, I settled on watching “Day After Tomorrow,” which normally I wouldn’t get into because I don’t dig the whole movie genre of cataclysmic catastrophes causing the end of human civilization as we know it, but it’s Jake Gyllenhaal and I cannot resist his whole dark hair/dark eye/innocence combo. And Dennis Quaid, well, every time I see him I want to scream out, “Emma Ray, there is nothing dignified about kicking someone in the balls!” (See his movie with Julia Roberts, “Something to Talk About.”)

Thanks to the pool I borrowed from Caroline’s apartment complex this afternoon, I’m a nice shade of pink. Just perfect.

Hey do you remember that guy, Dr. Drew? The one who hosted that show at night on MTV with Adam Carolla where high school guys would call in and say, “I did this one girl last week at a party, I’m not sure what her name was and she smelled kinda funny, but I was too drunk to care. Anyway, it burns when I pee now. Should I be worried?” Anyway, he’s hot. I’d let Dr. Drew be my sugar daddy.

You know what I wanna do? I wanna move in with Dave Ray for a year, drink a lot, indulge in various other debaucherous activities, and just write… do nothing but write a novel/autobiography/expose about my early twenties in Oklahoma. And all of you would be in it. Every one of you. If you’re lucky, I’d change your names. And if you’re even luckier, I wouldn’t. And because of me, you’d end up doing some HBO documentary when you were eighty years old talking about how you were the one Daisy was talking about in her acclaimed Pulitzer Prize winning book.

Anyway, I’m missing my movie and Jake is calling.

06-03-05_1409.jpg

Poolio
Originally uploaded by Daisy Girl.

Ah the day off. Lucky for me Caroline has a pool!

And all the angels sang...

I've got my house back for the weekend.

Fish Tacos

It's friday and I have nothing to do but sleep and do laundry. Kick ass.

Last night was, well, less of a party than I thought it would be. But really, I didn't expect that much of a party when I walked into the bar, saw all the Twister paraphernalia and the huge bus parked out back. I guess the band, for what I saw of them, wasn't half bad. The only memory I really have of the night is saying, "I'd be a lesbian too if I looked like that..."

I'm such a bitch sometimes.

But at least I can acknowledge it.

I'd like to hibernate this weekend, so we'll see if I make it out anywhere.

The cosmos are not aligned, my friend. Tread carefully.

I've got a few projects I'm working on...

I may start working for my pops on Fridays to pad the 'ol bank account just in case there's a relocation in my near future. Plus it doesn't hurt to have some extra cash layin' around... especially when June and July are packed with great shows.

Anywho, I've also started the ummm hush hush undercover naughty blog. Only a privileged few will have the link. And they will be contributing editors. It's going to be huge before long. Trust me on this. I'm going to try to get the first story up some time today. And it will be a new one because it seems I deleted my old ones off the computer some time ago just in case one of my girl's at work was borrowing the lap top at some point in time.

Tonight, it's on like donkey kong. I don't care who's playing. It's free and so are my drinks usually. And it looks like I may be making it an early night at the bar, a la the Roger Clyne show in Stillwater. But this one promises to be for a good cause. *wink wink* And that's all I have to say about thay-at.

Man, what a slow week it's been at work. The idle time lends itself nicely to taking dirty pictures of myself and sending them to my friends. :) Hope you're having as much fun at your job!

I'm out like trout.

They exhumed Emmitt Till's body today. I've looked everywhere on the web for a copy of Audre Lorde's "Afterimages," but it's nowhere to be found. When I get home, I may write it out. It's one of my favorites.

They mutilated, tortured, killed him, and threw him off a bridge into the Tallahatchie at 14 years old for whistling at a white woman as he passed her on the street. Well, at least they, the great white protectors of their females, they, the almighty white Lord's of their universe, protected that sweet, innocent, delicate little girl's honor.

Then his mother insisted on having the media at her son's open- casket funeral so the world could see what it was really like to live in the land of cotton where old times there are not forgotten.

Look away, look away, look away.

And they did.

Oh. my. god.

He's gone to a very bad bad place. And I can't stop laughing. If you get some time, and aren't one of the faint of heart, check this out:

Digital Rebel Without a Clue: Stephen Williams Is A Dogfucker.

--------------------------------------------------

And in other news, I just ate a buttload of Chinese food from Aloha Garden. Yeah, that'll fix the weight problem. Oh well, I probably won't eat dinner tonight anyway. And as far as I'm concerned, there's not a weight problem. Ok, maybe a little one, but nothing to obsess over. See, the only thing I'm concerned with is if certain (very privileged) people still wanna get naked with me. And yeah, they do. And I hope they do it soon. So I've got no worries. It's all good in the hood. And thanks to a nice little rip in my blue jeans my lime green underoos are showing.

Party! ;)

The Laguna Hills, Laguna Beach, makes no difference to me, man.

I'm dead set on going now. Somebody's gotta give me a job. I've looked at UC Irvine and they've got a couple of different programs in which I could finish my MA. (You like that Jefe? Look ma, no prepositions at the end of my sentence!)

Anyway, my mother didn't wake up til 9 a.m. this morning. I guess she overslept or is sick or something. So, being that we share a little 1 bathroom house, here it is, 9:40 and I'm still in bed... blogging. And hungry.

I'm less motivated to do anything at work today than I've ever been in my life possibly. And it's such a cool feeling to know that you can send something you've written to someone (a resume) who is thousands of miles away, and they have no clue who you are, they read your stuff and say, hey! This is pretty good! And then they call to tell you that. That kicks ass.

It'd be great if I had a couple of options to explore down there... maybe I will, it's only been a week...