You know what rocks right now? The fact that I'm going up to Mammoth tomorrow morning to snowboard ALL WEEKEND LONG!!!!!

The shallow side of me
Just for two weeks, I'd like to know what it would be like to be a heartthrob pin-up boy. Just for two weeks. After that I could go back to eating Ramen and shopping at the 99-cent store.

I spend my nights alone in quiet despair. Which is OK, because my neighbors are old and have trouble sleeping.

Oh, god, help me!
This morning I woke up with the song "Genie in a Bottle" running through my head.

Call me sappy...
Like the song says, I think that what the world needs now is love, sweet love.

And a fucking enema.

When I was in the Philippines, my cousin took me to this small island where my father was born. He had us climb up these steep, lush cliffs into this cave that had a natural pool inside. I was told that a long time ago, the tribal people would take their sick leaders into that cave and bathe them there to get rid of their illness. I thought of them, carrying their elders, people they respected and loved, over these cliffs and into this cave, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by this feeling of connection to this history. I felt somehow joined with these people from centuries past, knowing that I was part of them, feeling this legacy surging through me.

And then I thought, "Eeeeew, gross water!"

For some odd reason, I am reminded of the time when my mom and I were on a cruise last year, and we were watching "The Day The Earth Stood Still," and there's the scene where Patricia Neal is on the ground, and Gort, being the security robot that he is, starts his menacing walk towards her, intending to laser beam her into oblivion. And my mother and I start yelling at the TV, "Say it! Say 'Gort, Klaatu Verata Nicto'!! Klaatu Verata Nicto!!!"

Just having the opportunity to hear my mother say "Klaatu Verata Nicto" really rocks.

Don't get me started on the time we were watching a nature special about snow leopards.

Oh...hey...I'm feeling a little light-headed today, so please forgive me if I jaksld;fu zx nval;sdfsvu'alwelrkc la;/.

This past Saturday zero 3 helped run a teen collage-making workshop at UCLA. We didn't teach them collage. An actual collage artist did that. They enlisted us to help with their creative writing/performance part. Their goal is to have the students write/perform something about their piece, experience, etc. Man, teaching teenagers creative things is really COOL. They're at this age where they're starting to form opinions, feel all kinds of feelings, and actually want to express themselves. It was really, really fun and I can't wait to do it again.

So after all this wishing for Morning Job™ to get all exciting, what happened on Tuesday? Hmmm? Aren't you curious? Well, my friends, on Tuesday, I walk in and find out that one of the partners just UP AND QUIT. No warning, nothing. The night before, he left a note on the other partner's desk, saying, pretty much, "Thanks, and now I'm resigning." Huh? What? Where? How? See, your wishes do come true! But you have to be CAREFUL! BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR! Or, at least, BE VERY SPECIFIC WITH YOUR WISHES.

So now, the boss asks me if I can come in early tomorrow morning. Like incredibly early. Like inhumane conditions early. 9:30am to be exact. My initial reaction in my head was "Oh, hell no! You expect my ass to get up even EARLIER? No f***ing way, mister Man!!" But what came out was a smile and "Oh, sure thing!" What is that? All peppy and shit, too! Man, I'm gonna stand up for my lazy, procrastination rights someday.

For the safety of professional wrestlers, I think that metal folding chairs, garbage cans and ladders should not be anywhere near the ring. Folding chairs should be replaced by pillows or inflatable furniture, and all garbage cans should be rubber. There should also be two referees. I'm just looking out for the athletes.

On a completely different note...living alone means I can walk around my apartment naked. Which is cool, since I live on the second floor, and unless people get around via jetpack, I doubt anyone will see me.

If you're flipping through radio stations, and you hear Golden Earring's "Radar Love", and you DON'T stop and listen to enjoy the drum solo/brass section part, I don't care how cool you think your musical tastes are, YOU DO NOT ROCK.

Yes, this is immature, but...
One of the most fun things to do when you're bored and watching TV is to add the phrase "for your momma" after every commercial slogan.

On a completely different note: Why does Lone Justice's song, "Ways to be Wicked" get me all hot and bothered?

I was bored and eating toast
I just can't believe it's not butter. I can't. It's not possible. There is no freaking way this isn't butter. You cannot sit there and tell me that this shit ain't butter. I refuse to even entertain the idea that this isn't butter. No way.

Fuck you, it's butter.