Download The Expendables — Bowl for Two

(I can imagine Robbie rolling his eyes for this song.)

We were driving up to Fremont for the ultimate shopping adventure ever.

My feet were on Shirl’s dashboard and I was obsessively wiggling my bright red toes: “You know what? I think stupidity should be a sin.”

She laughs.

“Yeah .. because most of my kids would go to hell. And not the good part either .. the bad part where all the lawyers are.”

“.. oh Stella …”

This is her way of nicely saying, “Dude, what the fuck?”

And not just any “WTF”, it’s “What. The. Fuck.”, where the last word is nicely ennunciated–the same way Ozzie says it when he sees lingerie sitting in Shirley’s car and the same way Alix says it after finding steak in her veggie burrito/hearing about the white trash with the 56 stars tatted on her face–to hint that my nasty comments are another segment of this very, very amazing summer.

Camping this weekend .. I’m so excited, my toes are wigglin’ again.

P.S. Megan, if you see this — I want to borrow Alan’s Safari jacket. :)

“I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.”
(Anais Nin)

We see each other on the streets. We’re of all ages, of all races, of all lifestyles. But we have this quiet, filthy understanding.

It’s almost as if we’re a part of this secret society. We all know how lovely it is, how comforting it is, how–for lack of a better word–addicting. It curls up between our lips, wraps us around with a seductive finger, and levels out every joy, sadness, pain, happiness, stress, fear. We’re weak. Suckers for the easy way out, right? We’re not. We know the dangers, don’t we? So are we or are we not?

Is it a form of validation? To be apart of this deep, dark secret? Or is it simply what it all began for the most of us– a way for us to run away, a way for us to find consistency in our lives, a way to fit in, a way for karma to ironically repay us?

I always said that I couldn’t imagine living a day over 30 anyways.

Bring it on, with a cup of Joe. It’s all good, motheryuckahs. All good.

Though my idle Wednesday night is deliriously ticking away, I have some burning, meaty questions for the world:

I. Why do kids find the need to scream? Like .. all the time?
II. Is screaming correlative to IQ? (I’d answer that myself, but I’m in danger of insulting a few parents.)
III. Why do I deal with this?

Very thought-provoking questions, if I do say so myself. After three days of working with kids, I think I’ve just declared myself as the poor man’s child behaviorologist. It doesn’t take much to understand. They’re cute, but they scream. They’re cute, but they ask weird questions, e.g. “If I put a roll of toilet paper into the potty, what would happen?”, “Can I eat that?” referring to a 3-day-old peanut butter cookie left on the table, referring to glue, referring to pocket lint. They’re cute, but they eat everything. The cute ones make me simper at the thought of one day becoming a mother, one day meaning 50 years from now; the others .. well, let’s just say that getting my tubes tied ain’t out of the question. (Not to air any slightly-soiled laundry to the public, but I think I’d be a bad mother anyways. I’m always calling my new baby cousin and Cathleen’s new baby niece “it”.)

I remember reading Matilda when I was neigh high and remember being really puzzled by the opening of the book, where Dahl whispered to me that teachers always said nice things about snotty little kids. Even if they didn’t mean it, those horrid liars! But now I understand. With each e-mail I pen that says “Your child has an amazing sense of direction” instead of “Your child found his way to the playground, but couldn’t make it to class when the rest did”, I understand. With each e-mail that I painstakingly pen “Your child is nice”, instead of “Your child is stupid, like really”, I understand. With each e-mail that says “Your child understands very mature concepts about this world” instead of “Your child just threatened to shoot me”, I understand, utterly and completely.

Despite everything–to answer III–they’re really cute. They kick the other TA when I ask them to. (Sorry Johnny!) They laugh at my jokes, because none of my friends ever do. This may require all fingers and thumbs, but I’m glad I took the job.

Idle hands are the devil’s play toys … in terms of wrecking good clothes. I’ve been in a really big DIY-mood lately, studding and cutting up everything and anything.

(Guess the DIY here … I really should get a professional to do things for me.)

I’ve realized a couple of things

1) Studs make my heart flutter. Must find a stud gun.
2) Shredding shirts takes so much patience, but I must, I must, I must finish
2a) When did I ever have the patience for anything?
2b) Don’t ask Alex to answer that question
3) This is better than buying new clothes … for now, anywho

Download Sublime — Summertime

I’ve got such good vibes about this summer.

If I could use one photo from this past week to predict the future, it’d be:

Summmmertime … and the livin’s eaasy.

Somehow, it’ll all be okay in the end.

I’ve got such a lust for life lately. This will be an epic summer, exorcism rumors and all. There will be camping trips and beach trips and city trips and time with the intimates only and ghost-hunting trips and Thao Nguyen and concerts and “If the music’s too loud, you’re too old” and hot, sticky summer days and “If we must die, we must die in style” and coffee shops and p-p-parties and gets. There will be good people, good times, good food, good memories, and everything–and I mean everything–will be okay by the end.

Because in the end–no matter what happens–we’ll have what we tried, even if it doesn’t work out.