-- My two weeks away from updating were remarkably like the weeks I had
while I was updating. After my training on LotusNotes and Word, which
was more like an exercise in trying to stay awake, the tech guys removed
my hard drive, which I didn't think would be a big deal until I realized
all my stark raving mad files were stored on it, as was Navigator.
We've been hella busy at work -- other people have been getting training,
and the Deej's dad died, so she was out for a week-and-a-half -- so I didn't
have much time to download everything I need and try to compose myself
to write some entries.
So where was I? Lessee, I haven't done...much. There's a surprise. Valentine's Day was a dud as usual -- ended up hanging out at Chili's with six guys. Six guys do not equal one girl. And I finally got to hang out again with Maya and Jenny. I took the Santa Monica Express out to the Westside last Monday to see them so we could have dinner. That was an interesting trip. The Express bus gets around the traffic on I-10 by cruising in the onramps and offramps. Why I've never thought of this, or anyone else for that matter, baffles me. The bus made great time down to Santa Monica.
Dinner with Maya and Jenny was fine, and Maya was cool enough to drive my ass all the way back to Cerritos. Of course, I had three extra holes in my right hand, owing to Maya's roommate's boyfriend's cat. That thing was enormous. It was this monstrous black tabby, and it was cool and relaxed until it decided it didn't like me. Then it tried to eat my hand. Weird fucker. When that thing crosses your path, you get like, a lifetime of bad luck. It belongs in a jungle somewhere, not in somebody's apartment.
This past weekend I rented another convertible -- a Mitsubishi Eclipse -- and after a relaxing night at a strip club, I woke up the next morning, picked up my contacts from Westwood, and then drove to Pacific Palisades to go to the beach for a relaxing day by myself. It was pretty damn chilly, so there were only a few of us who dared to go sans shirtless. Actually, the only other people I saw who weren't wearing shirts were some gross fat guy who should have been wearing a shirt (maybe having one stapled to his flesh so that he couldn't take it off), and some dude from UCLA who was getting a suntan oil massage by his honey of a girlfriend. That looked nice. She looked nice.
First, I should let everyone know I'm not a beach person. I used to hate the beach. It's only recently that I started thinking about it more, and how relaxing it can be. Especially the honeys. I lay out for about 90 minutes, and since it's sorta cold, I figure I'm not getting much of a tan, so I pack up my shit, thoroughly relaxed at least, and drive off to Santa Monica to get a lil' shopping done, and then I head back to C-Town.
Back in Cerritos, I discovered that I had metamorphisized into a lobster. Christ, I am red underneath this shirt and tie right now. I've always had sensitive skin, and come to think of it, every beach excursion I've ever had results in a sunburn. Once I got burned so bad my shoulders blistered and I had to leave school the next day b/c the blisters were seeping fluid through my shirt. What didn't help was that I discovered a bottle of baby oil in my bathroom that morning and thought, "Maybe I'll try some of this". So I wind up frying out in the sun, even though I couldn't feel it at the time. One of these days, I'll get the whole "tanning" thing down pat.
After I discover my state of scarletness, a few of us are sitting around, when Das asks, "Do you have unlimited miles?" I said yeah, and then Ray says, "Vegas?" and we were off. We ended up getting there at around 1 or 1:30 in the morning, by which time Das and I were exhausted, so we rotated between sleeping in the minuscule front and back seats of the Spyder while Ray gambled, and then while Ray slept Das and I gambled. I lost $175, which doesn't seem so bad compared to my last excursion a month ago. Of course, I can't believe Kentucky was swept by Tennessee in basketball, but them's the breaks. I got some more shopping done, and then we split at around 12:30, stopped by some outlet stores, and then headed home.
Cars are fun. Convertibles are more fun. Fast convertibles are even more fun. Shit, no matter what kind of car I get now, I'm not gonna be satisfied, b/c there's no way it'll be a convertible. That's way outta my price range. Poor, spoiled me.
Ah, Sharon's coming to visit at the end of this month. So I've got 25 days to fantasize before reality sets in.
So that's my life. Shit, I forgot my card key today, so I've gotta take the long away today throughout the day. With a key, you can cut through the doors that bisect our offices, but without em', I gotta walk all the way around the floor. That makes grabbing water and Graham crackers a chore. And no, I don't need the exercise.
I'll bore y'all with some of my inner thoughts soon enough.