You need to get your own man...

ill-fitting shoes + ill-fitting underwear = I walk like I was just gang-banged after eating mexican food for 3 days straight.
The shoes, are adorable and everytime I wear them I get compliments. I need to get rid of them. I only wear them about once a month, just long enough to forget how tortured I was the last time they "sheep in wolf's clothing"ed their way out of my closet. The underwear... well they are cute, but I doubt I'll get many compliments on them today seeing as I also decided to wear jeans. The underwear, I knew even before I put them on we would have problems. But since I refused to do laundry last night, and going commando with jeans is just not an option (not wearing jeans was also not an option - it's Friday) - I had made peace with this... it's the hellish combination I can't deal with.

Grrr... supervisor-indulged card-carrying misanthropic flakes make me mad. Why is it that some people can just get away with this crap? It's commonly accepted that they hate their job and are completely unreliable. But they never get in trouble either - they'll mostly finish half a project then spaz out. For whatever reason I always seem to be tasked with finishing the project - which is the real reason I am angry. There is at least one in every office, it's that person who blogs all day without doing a stitch of work (don't be offended, obviously some of us can multitask) and drones on about how they are the tragic Ms. Nelson figure, unappreciated and taken advantage of by their boistrous, ill-mannered 5th grade classroom (substitute "work colleagues"). The truth is, everyone handles this person with kid gloves. Their self-tortured interpretation is so off base... but it doesn't matter, they've complained about it so much it's become their reality!

Yes, I am talking about the DMV (that is Dane Cook's affectionate moniker). I know there are roughly a kajillion drivers in LA - but I applied for a license in SEPTEMBER. I knew it was just too easy. I made an appointment online, got there at 8:10 am with minimal hassle, checked in and got my number with only 2 people in front of me... and then the computers went down... STATEWIDE, "So don't even try to go to another office!" I was told. Oh did I say "easy", if you use the word "easy" to mean more painful than watching a Taradise marathon, then yeah, I guess that would be accurate. To add insult to injury, when I called the DMV this week to follow up, they farmed my call off to the Sacramento office, where I was told this was "typical" and I should have my new ID in 2-3 weeks. Um, I could have Pedro, my favorite street vendor, make me one by Thursday... and he'll throw in a Marlboro carton for $20! Why am I even mad about this? Because I can't get served at The Cheesecake Factory, black-appareled douchebags everywhere are reveling in the chance to deny a youthful looking Irish girl her vodka-given rights.
"As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be thirsty again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be thirsty again."

I have decided that CNN may perhaps be too thorough. When you have an expert talking about the implications of Hurricane Wilma on the price of orange juice... um, yeah. In case you're wondering, things do not look good - you may have to switch to cranberry juice!

Lately I've been overwhelmed...way too much going on (not really in the literal sense, more in my head). No, no voices. Just taxes, a new job (Rogers & Associates, an LA-based PR firm), a psycopath/roommate, a boyfriend, a gay boyfriend, apartment searching...really, growing up.

Things with Adam are going really well - which does make me a bit nervous, because at 6 months I am quickly approaching my relationship record of 7, he's coming to my sister's wedding in July, and I've been considering asking him to move in with me: C-R-A-Z-Y! But I suppose stranger things have happened - Sarah making lamb chops and recommending pea casserole recipes from the Boston Globe, never saw that one coming! Is this what growing up is? Getting a job with benefits, categorizing a trip to Blockbuster as "going out", cooking "real" food, using lots of "quotations"? Thankfully Andy is in town, so I can drink myself to oblivion, reminisce about the Golden Girls days of hijinks galore and put off growing up for at least another week!

While walking back to work at the end of my lunch break I passed a homeless woman. Upon noticing my standard post-lunch smizz, she smiled covetously and shouted "Hey honey, can I have a cigarette?" Now, I hate turning people down but I only had 2 left (earmarked for the drive home) and I was also running late. As a well-seasoned smoker, I quickly returned with, "Sorry, but I bummed this one." Her face immediately contorted to a hideously disdainful scowl. Apparently it is extremely uncouth to use any part of speech derived from the root "bum" when speaking with...well...a bum.

After lounging around in and out of a vodka-induced coma for most of the day Saturday, I showered and prepared for more of the same... I had made plans to hang out in Hollywood with Maya and Fedra. The night began innocently enough at a British bar on Sunset. We barhopped and took advantage of the fact that we were born genetically advantaged (free parking, free drinks, and later free breakfast). After Friday night, Sat. was definitely more low key. Sunday, my roommate and I went to Malibu Beach and then let friends take us to dinner... and I wonder where the extra 5 lbs. have come from.

An update on A: we have plans to hang out tonight... I was invited to a big SoCo Poker Party, and invited him to tag along... it's actually a double date... with a gay couple... would I disappoint you!