Hm. Thought Blogger ate my last entry but there it is...some sort of publishing mishap I suppose.

Mom is on her way to visit for the holiday and here I am on the computer not cleaning the house. She's not due for an hour and a half yet but she's always an hour early, so I'd better start hiding the guns and porn.

Mom is wonderful; I love her lots and it's really nice for her to visit when I'm all hijacked by work and can't leave. A few days off is also very nice ('off' meaning I only have to stop in for an hour or so each day). Eating lots is also very good, although I'm not sure how much cooking we'll be able to squeeze in.

My family always had these quiet little intimate holidays that were nice at the time and nicer in retrospect. We lived miles and miles away from any other family, so it was always just the three of us. We all love each other a lot and we never fought; it was really too good to be true but that's how it was! I'm a very lucky girl.

So this holiday it will be just me and my mom. The boyfriend just left to be with his dad's side of the family for the day (last weekend we were with the mom's side) and although I like them quite a lot, I had to opt out in favor of more time with my mom and a little alone time.

tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. The house is messy. I'm such a slob. Luckily my mom knows this and bites her tongue because she doesn't want to nitpick me like her mom does to her. She's so cool. Knowing this makes me feel even more guilty, though, so I'm going to go clean now.


I sat down at the boyfriend's computer to type and started a CD without knowing what was in his player. It's Massive Attack's Mezzanine. What a nice surprise. I haven't heard this in a while, a year or so, I suppose. Sometimes I forget that there are albums that were released since I graduated high school, or college even, that are classics. Sometimes I think nothing's ever going to match the hours and hours I spent with Disintegration, or whatever.

Man, I listened to Mezzanine a lot and I didn't even realize it. Maybe that's because it was during the couple of years I was living by myself and drinking too much. I spent a lot of nights in that apartment with the stereo really loud, dancing in the living room.

For no good reason earlier today I thought of the winter when I was fifteen and had just fallen in love for the first time. For some reason I went to stay with my grandparents for winter break, miles and miles away from home. I went to see Edward Scissorhands in the theater and then I bought Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me and listened to it nonstop for the rest of break, taking desultory slices at my skin with my pocketknife. Standard teenage stuff.

I guess it was because it was so cold today. It reminded me of that winter.

I'm glad I got the love thing right the second time around.

I'm also glad he left that CD in the player. Otherwise I don't know what I was going to write about.


Dear officemate across the hall: Please get a different ringtone.

Dear all three hundred of the boyfriend's relatives: Kids are not contagious. I know just how you get them and I will not be getting any.

Dear the boyfriend: You are so good.

Dear cavedwellers, or Dionysus: Thanks for inventing wine.

Dear capitalist pigs: Enough with the Christmas already.

Dear skincare gods: Can I please have adult skin?

Dear new coworker: Your gift of cheese has cemented my loyalty to you. You can do no wrong.

Dear relatives of the boyfriend again: I think that look that you get when we talk about moving into the city is really funny except when it makes me want to cry. I'm sorry we're not afraid of black people. Except I'm not sorry at all.


The blog is supposed to complement my job and help me think in different ways, but I've just been neglecting it lately because things have been crazy. I've actually hardly listened to any music lately because I just can't bear it for some reason. This is very strange for me, as music has always been the refuge. But I don't want to listen to my radio station because I just don't want to know if someone screws up on the air or whatever. Ignorance is bliss, and if that's what it takes for me to let go of things a little, so be it.

I haven't even wanted to listen to other stations, or albums, though. When I do listen to albums, they've been very European/non-rock. But I've been enjoying them. I've spent a lot of time with this Sigur Ros and the Coldplay and the Röksopp. I think Chris Martin's voice reminds me of Robert Smith's and that's why I like it.

What the hell am I going to do with my life if I have to get out of radio?

I've spent the last seven years building up a very successful career, and I'm ready to chuck it because the boyfriend will be able to get a job in another city that pays about three times what I'm earning now. The situation doesn't exactly suck, but it puts me in a place that I'm struggling to figure out.

What will I do career-wise?

Will he be happy?

How do I deal with being middle-class?

Upper-middle-class, even. Again, this doesn't suck and it's obviously what we've been working for, but it's almost like moving to a new country.

I would have never said that I grew up working-class (before I went to college and saw how my new friends lived, i.e. much swankier than I), and I would still hesitate to say so now. My parents were definitely working-class, though, but they are both very smart and gave me a lot of the cultural capital that let me negotiate a middle-class society when I did go to college.

That's part of the reason I'm so obsessed with fashion and other upper-crust consumer goods, art, and history. I'm desperate to give myself an education so that I can make conversation with these people. So they won't think I'm an idiot. So I don't reflect badly on the boyfriend.

I'm making this totally black-and-white and much more serious than it really is, but my experience negotiating the social circles in my town has shown me that networking and such is important.

I've wandered so far away from my original point here.

The point is: I've had a fairly stable life for the last six years or so. Everything is likely going to change in the next two years. I will probably live in another city. I may be a homeowner. I may be...well, you know. We don't talk about that.


Mike needs to be famous... and fast.

But let me say that famous is not all it's cracked up to be.

Well, maybe it is. It's better than not being famous, I suppose. You get into places for free and people are excited to see you. Better than being infamous by far.

It's not so great to be famous without the rich, which is where I am. Not famous famous, of course, but will you cut the ribbon on the new car dealership famous, or will you emcee this charity event famous. Since I recognized you at the bar I'll talk to you about Pavement for an hour famous.

Mike just wants to be famous "in a bloggish kind of way." That's cool. I wouldn't mind being famous in a bloggish kind of way either.


nutty work!

wanted to write about boys and books and music but there is no time.


This day started off really bad, but it's getting better. Yay hormones. Actually woke up and burst into tears because yesterday had been so long and ridiculous at work and I was just so mad about it. Gave up time allotted to eat breakfast to sob in bed next to boyfriend (who didn't remember any of this after he woke up, but that's not important). Then moved on with day. Felt shitty for sure. All day long eyes have been all heavy and scratchy due to crying.

But got Sigur Ros album in the mail today and was just what I needed! Lovely. Lovely.

Then had wonderful escapist sushi lunch with boss. Wonderful.

Promise to kiss on boyfriend lots tonight. Yes.


Still madness here. Things all bollocksed up again. Obviously spending too much time on I Love Music and feeling perfectly free to use English slang despite not being English, except in the ancestral sense. Actually emailed my mom not to think I was 'daft' for changing my haircolor again. Right gutted about it, I am.



I may have to take today and tomorrow off, blog-wise, because of some pretty large work concerns. It's all cool, just it's also all at once. Hope the monkeys hold you until then. Oh, I forgot, monkey stories.


Monkeys are just great. Monkeys make everything better.

Presenting your unofficial monkey shopping guide!

Paul Frank 'Julius' monkeys from Nordstrom. Fancy monkeys from Neiman Marcus. Toys for baby monkeys. (or human babies, if you must.) Hanuman and other exciting monkeys from Hindu tradition. Monkey ornaments from Urban Outfitters. Monkey home decor. Monkey wallpaper!

Oh wow, monkey wallpaper. I'm totally getting monkey wallpaper when I own a house.

My favorite is monkey undies. Say it with me!

Monkey undies!

I buy my monkey undies at the Limited Too, which is a store for tweens. I don't know what that is, like ages 8-14 or something like that. I am not 8-14. I am so teeny that I wear a girls' size small underwear, though. Yes, I feel terribly creepy buying girls underwear in a store where I have a foot and a half on all the other customers. They have a wide selection of monkey items, though, so you might want to check it out and get yourself a nice monkey throw or something. But the underwear is really cute, and the tweens are larger and larger these days, so a decent number of women would be able to find something fun, I think. Unless you're just creeped out by little girls' underwear.

Man, this post is going to get me a lot of perverted google hits.


Hey, yeah, ho. Whoof. Nothin'.

Nothing except the pure drive to procrastinate.

The flu makes me stoopid.

When I first saw this, the first thing I thought was, "Who's on top?"

No porn.


I'm fighting the flu and devoid of coherent thoughts. Seriously. I thought I had one and now it's gone.

I did just see the Waypath project and it looks super cool. The librarian in me gets all tingly with this sort of thing.

This sounds a little scary though.

Whenever I login/out of Blogger, I always like to follow a link to an updated blog. Got a good Brazilian one today: Cara, finalmente. Michelle Branch por aqui!!!!!!! Digo acabei de ouvir no rĂ¡dio!!!!!!!!!

I'm glad there's so much excitement in the world.


Everything has gotten all bollocksed up today. I've been putting out lots of little fires. I refuse to be stressed out. Really, I do. Over the past few years or whatever I've become a big believer in the 'decide to be happy' philosophy. Works great when it works.

Also, stress makes me break out. But I've found a new skincare product, hurrah! I think I'm going to have 14 year-old skin until I'm 50, and not in the good way. Splurged on a new Murad product and I love it. It's working quite well so far. I also got a couple of Philosophy shaving products for the boyfriend, since he's always using this stinky stuff I don't like and that the ex used. The whole bill was just over $75, which got me free shipping and the free tote, which is of surprisingly good quality. I love how lovingly Sephora packs all their stuff. I'm paying enough for it.


Election day is one of my favorite days. I wanna vote all the time. I'm just not cynical about the process at all. Voting is awesome!

I'm kinda sad it's over so quickly. I'd like to be a volunteer in my polling place if I could.

It was very cool to go and see everyone from the neighborhood filling out their ballots.

Since I'm a DJ, I probably hear a lot more of those awful radio ads than most people. This means I'm supposed to be turned off of the political process because of all the negativity. But I'm not; I just think the ads are funny.

Also because I'm a DJ, I know a lot of these candidates, at least in passing. Better yet, we have a little of that I'm-a-public-figure-you're-a-public-figure simpatico going on, and we can relax a little. Or maybe they're just so suave they're fooling me into thinking that. Whatever. The point is that I see them as real people, and when I hear them on the radio or see them on TV, I get that tee hee I know that person feeling.

Especially the one I accidentally made out with.


I kinda want to point out the problems Florida is having today, but it almost feels too mean. Almost.

I continue to be super nice to the boyfriend, in ways that will not be detailed on the blog. He is suspicious of me. I am suspicious of me.

Actually, no one's suspicious. That would interfere with our fun and lasagna-eating.

I got the new issue of New York magazine in the mail yesterday. The cover story was 'What It Costs To Live In New York at 25, 35, 45, 55...' The boyfriend was reading it over my shoulder like he was looking at a slow-motion car crash. No no don't turn the page, he says. Look at that guy. He makes $750,000 a year and he's worried about money?

Well, I say, his problem is that he's an idiot. He has a car.

Why would anyone live in Manhattan, he asks.

Because it's amazing. It's magic. It's everything all at once. And you can do it all or you can just watch it all. The city is in your lungs and your blood, pumping through you, pushing you into the streets and surrounding you in a haze of energy. The subway and the shops and the city scenes, the Chrysler building and the Met and the park, the avenues and the piers!

It's the best city in the world, I said.


I've been a vegetarian for the vast majority of my life.

Yesterday I went to the butcher and bought three links of spicy Italian sausage to make into a lasagna for the boyfriend because I love him so. This was unprovoked on his part, and unprecedented on my part.

Rather than thinking it was a sweet and selfless gesture (which it was; I really don't give a shit about meat one way or the other these days...it is as inert, inoffensive, and inedible as plastic or clay to me), he was deeply suspicious and urged me not to cook it. I was a bit nonplussed. I cooked it anyway, a pan of lasagna with meat for him, a pan of lasagna with onions and garlic for me. He ate most of it and said it was quite good.

I had to take the casing off the sausage before I cooked it. That was pretty weird. What the hell is all that stuff?


kpaul points me to an alternate list of blogger types...complete with AD&D stats. Thanks a whole lot...I now realize that I know enough about both blogging and 3d ed. AD&D to get every single one of these jokes.

I'm gonna get some fresh air or something.