>Ketzl at the beach house.



Here's another picture of Ketzl (yes, I changed the spelling of his name). This time, here's Ketzl at the beach, near the time share I have in Mendoncino. He loves the beach, running in the sand, running head-first into the surf, eating washed up crabs, chasing gulls and barking at seaweed. Everyone there gets a real kick out of him.
I almost forgot that it was Halloween today. I have a pair of blue wings I was going to wear over my clothes, but the idea of dressing up totally slipped my mind until I got to work. Here's a partial list of some of the costumes that I can remember wearing over the years:
A little boy dressing as a cowboy(1999, 2000).
One of the Powerpuff Girls. Yes, I was Buttercup (2000).
A fairy (1997).
A witch (4th grade).
A flashdancer (1st grade).
A cat (Kindergarden).
That's all I can remember.
I dreamed that you were playing war games with Saddam Hussein, because you know, you're all about fake war.
Later.

>Sleepy.



I dreamed that I was a foreign exchange student in Japan, except it looked just like America. I had a horrible feeling that I forgot to bring something with me, then I remembered that I packed everything but my make-up. You arrived a day later on a bicycle, pedaling all the way to Japan just to see me.
We went to Dan and Other Heather's house last night. They have such a cute place, it made me want to start looking for a new apartment again. It was funny though, we both had the same vinyl shelf and CD racks. They even had the same TV stand we wanted. I guess they shop at Ikea too.
Later.

>Driving and horking.



"Guess who I just saw in the hallway?"
"Who?"
"Krista Brockhard!"
"Who?"
"Corissa Lockhardt!"
"I'm sorry, I don't know who that is."
"Well, there's this show called Ally McBeal..."
"OH MY GOSH! YOU SAW CALISTA FLOCKHART!!!?"
Maria saw Ally McBeal at karaoke on Friday! No one else in our group saw her, but we believe that she was there. We even took turns looking in each room, but no luck. Uggh, Friday was terrible. After making an ass of myself on Thursday night, I was paying heavily for it in the morning. For some reason, I went into work to tie up a few things, then I planned to sneak out and call in sick from home. I don't know what I was thinking. I got there, horked in the parking lot, then when I was driving home later, I was horking on the freeway. Driving and horking.
It was a karaoke weekend. We went to the Townhouse on Saturday with Heathers, Matt, Dan & James. Leon got tanked on long island ice teas and sang Immigrant Song, and Ghostbusters. Matt and Dan did Strokin'. They did a knock out job, and then I found out that they had never even heard the song. Everyone had a pretty good time, I think.
"Do you know who I feel sorry for?"
"Who?"
"The cats."
"Oh my gosh, I totally feel sorry for the cats, too!"
Sunday was nice because I finally had time to spend with Cleo and Mouse. They've been depressed because we've been busy all week. We saw Billy Elliot, which gave us Northern English accents for about an hour afterwards.
"Mouse! You toothless poof!" After that we watched High Fidelity, but I fell asleep for the deleted scenes.
Later.

>Busy week.



We went to see the Kings last night. I'm so lucky to have a boyfriend that doesn't like sports more than I do. We didn't get the company suite this time, or courtside tickets, but our seats weren't that bad. We clapped wildly, hooted once, and grunted when disapointed. I've always liked attending basketball games. Three cheers for free entertainment! Hip, hip, hooray. If that weren't enough, I've been invited to a function tonight by one of our medias. Free food and open bar for 2 glorious hours. At this rate, I'll never make it to the gym this week.
I've been worried about money lately. It just seems like there's never enough. Between getting my car smogged twice, repaired and registered, paying tons of other bills and eating out too much, I am almost penniless. I need a raise.
Later.

>Cheeky, cheeky.



Stereolab was fantastic last night. So were FUGU, but Leon was not that impressed. We talked about how we met and when we met. I love those stories. Even though we both remember exactly how we happened, I love to hear the story because it gives me the cutes. Before the show we stopped in the Japan Center to find Leon an ATM. I waited in the bookstore and thumbed issues of Women's Non-No, Olive, and Kera. I wished I had money to buy them all. After the show we went over to Pancho Villa and had burritos. I ordered en espanol. Lettra D, sin salsa, frijoles al olla, para aqui.
Tonight I'm supposed to go visit my sister. It'll be akward, but I have to do it. Today I got the Beat Happening box set sampler, Crashing Through. The disc is missing the last three tracks though. Oh, well. Maybe it's just a misprint. At any rate, this is my most favorite band, ever so I'm very excited about the 7 CD box set coming out next year.
Later.

>Transradiant sound study.
We're going to see Stereolab tonight in SF.



They're fantastic. And now you can see how inredibly fashionable they are. Hey, I can add photos now. Just so you know. Did I tell you the weird story? Apparently (now, this is all hearsay), a crazy hobo came in to our store on Broadway sometime before 9/11 and caused a ruckus, yelling about how shit was going to go down on 9/11. Events like this are not unusual in that store, so most shrugged it off, only to find out later that shit did go down on 9/11. Spooky, huh? Well, I hear later that the crazy hobo comes back in a couple of weeks later and causes another ruckus about the store, yelling that if people thought 9/11 was bad, just wait for 10/23. So the manager called the police or something and asked them to watch this dude. Anyway, to get to the point...10/23 is today! I hope nothing bad happens and that this is all just not true.
Later.

>Operating at 60%.
I feel like a wreck today. I'm dressed in t-shirt, jeans, hoodie and ratty shoes. I'm beginning to feel overly self conscious that I'm dressed too casual for work. Too late to go change now, and it would look weird if I went home for lunch and changed.
Why is everyone I know a basket case? I swear. Do you want to know what happened this weekend? On Friday we went to Kent and Laura's for dinner, that was fun. It was very much a "couple" thing, but I still felt isolated and separate. We came home sort of drunk still, from margaritas and we found a cat. Leon checked the collar and it was from quite a few blocks away. Despite being midnight or something, we ended up just walking it over to the address and letting it out near the yard, because the person who's number was on the collar didn't even really want to come and get it. Saturday we saw Steven Malkmus play. He was okay. Afterwards we tried to go bowling, but we got there and didn't feel like bowling, so we went to bed. Sunday my niece, the pickiest eater in the world, unknowingly ate soy tacos with us. Mark one point for the vegetarians.
Later.

>Bits and pieces.
'Allo me old china - wot say we pop round the Jack? I'll stand you a pig and you can rabbit on about your teapots. We can 'ave some loop and tommy and be off before the dickory hits twelve.
I read in New York Magazine (which has the best crosswords by the way), that fitness club membership increased in mid-september by leaps and bounds. In one lower Manhattan club alone, over seven thousand new members joined. I guess if they were thinking about getting down some stairs right quick, they had better know that they could do it. Lately, while I'm at my gym I have been doing the stairmaster machine for thirty minute bouts. In that half hour I can only reach 98 floors or about that. If I were in those buildings any higher than floor 70, I would have surely died.
Last night I had a dream that Martha Stewart hated Jamie Lee Curtis and wrote a book about it. In the dream I had to host a large dinner, and I seated the two women accoss from eachother. The situation was very tense. Somehow I think this dream is about my mother and my sister. I have to be the mediator this weekend and I'm not happy about it. In other news, there is a new comments section (see below). I've implemented this so that you can now comment on my thrilling entries.
Later.

>Purple Passage.
My poor succulent, Elephant Bush. He's just not so perky anymore. The plant man, no not this plant man, said he probably just needs more water.
Today I get to pretend that I'm important at a business lunch. I hate this, it's always so stressful because I feel like I just don't know all the terms still and I can't participate in any of the conversation. At least I get a free lunch.
I want Leon to move his linux page to blogger. I'm sure he'll love it and as an added bonus, he can teach me how to use it better. I know I'm not taking full advantage of everything I can do here, but at least it's better than diaryland. Please Leon, we implore you. Begin a journal so that we can see what's going on inside your brilliant mind. Is it mathematical formulas and lines of code that float around amongst images of food? We need to know!
What the shit?! I just found out that lunch was called off. This is like the fifth time this lunch with KITS has been rescheduled. Sad, I'm out of money too and I can't afford to buy my self lunch.
Later.

>I laughed a lot and then I said I will.
I woke up, still in bed, but you know I would say it again. I update this blog too often. Everyone else's diary that I read on line doesn't get updated this much, except maybe this one. It makes me look like I have nothing to do, which is not true. In fact, I'm a busy lady.
I forgot that I have tickets to see Steve Malkmus at the Colonial Theatre on Saturday. Unfortunately, I think I'd rather go to the bowling party that night, instead. Now I don't know which event to attend.
Do you know that the Naked Chef is my boyfriend? He's so foxy! He loves to cook me meals and drive me around on his lambretta. We muck around his flat all day. He's very funny and sometimes he lets me sit on his lap when he slides down the stair banister. Shall we cook a toad in the hole? It'll be over the moon!
Last night I dreamed of a band called the Undercoats.
Later.

Should We Have Our Photo Taken?
I'm on my kiwi pop kick again. I can see how tons of bands were influenced by the Clean. I've also been listening to some oldies like Marvin Gaye, The Who, Rick James, all remastered deluxe editions. I would free Rick James, if he weren't already free.
I really outdid myself with dinner last night. The recipe for hella pasta:
Saute mushrooms until they get pretty juicy
Add a bunch of chopped tomatoes, and lots of crushed garlic
Stir around for a couple of minutes while you add oregano, majoram, thyme and rosemary
Add some chiffonades of fresh basil and a couple of whole asparagus stalks
Cover with a lid and let sit while your pasta finishes boiling
Once that's done, drain pasta and scoop the "sauce" and asparagus onto it
Serve with a petite sirah, and bread with oil and vinegar. Hella pasta!
Pass out on the couch and go to bed at 9:15 PM.
We went to Loren's finally on Sunday. We didn't know where he lived at first. We just knew it was on T and 24th streets. So we walked down there only to realize that there were tons of apartment complexes on that block. So we walked through the alleys looking for his truck. We finally found it behind scary apartments, then looked for # 15. We found it, and put an ear to the door. Leon determined that rasta music was playing and asked if Loren would be listening to that. I figured Loren being Loren, it was probably his house. So we knocked and hoped that some rasta dude and plumes of cheeba smoke wouldn't come out. We were half right. It was Loren's place and there were plumes of cheeba smoke. We sat and talked for a while in the scary apartments, while bros of all kinds came in and out. We saw a note on the counter that said: The guy downstairs assaulted the pregnant lady, that's not cool. Loren told us the story about how the police came and all that, and after they left, the beater guy, the pregnant lady and the pregnant lady's deaf mom all went on a picnic. Then the phone rang and the person on the other line was looking for someone in a different house. Loren went looking and I checked out my hair in the bathroom. I need a hair cut. He came back and we chatted some more. All of the sudden Loren got this crazy look on his face and picked up the phone that was still off the hook. He told the guy that he couldn't find who he was asking for and hung up. It was pretty funny.
Later.

>Side On.
Iron Monkey was actually pretty good. People in the theater got very excited, they were cheering and whooping at the best parts.
We saw an apartment on Sunday. Actually it was a live/work space. We were very curious about it all weekend. Thinking that it would be a 800 sq ft room with hard wood floors, a bathroom, and a kitchen area. We imagined buying a couple of room divider screens and fashioning a bedroom area out of the wide open space. No such luck. It was actually a 400 sq ft garage level, and a 400 sq ft living area upstairs. The garage level was perfect for a practice space / computer room. The upstairs living area was super tiny. There were two doors into the apartment. The first door from the porch led into the bedroom area, and the second door from the porch led into the kitchen area. The kitchen had two sinks for some reason. Not next-to-eachother sinks, but far apart sinks in the same counter piece. There was also a really small living room area and a deep walk in closet with windows. The bathroom was also tiny and had no bathtub, just a shower. Maybe you were supposed to sit in one of the sinks if you wanted a bath. Overall, I wanted to love the place, but the living quarters were just too small and too much like a studio. If Leon loved it and wanted it for the practice space, I could live with it. But I think he had the same hang ups as me. We both decided that we both have to love it, where ever it is we end up living.
Did you know that if you use Blogger in Linux, they have a spell check button when you post to your blog? They do.
I lost four pounds, can you tell?
Who luhs the Clean? I do!
P.S. In the case that I should need my old background again, remind me that it's here:
body background="bloggertemplate55_backgroundblu.gif" scroll="auto"
Later.

>Lazy listing.
I'm still sick and I don't feel like making complete sentances. Here's what I ate for dinner:
Corn and black beans, heated up with some olive oil, place in warm corn tortilla, add jack cheese, salsa, lettuce and tomato. Panza llena. Tonight we're taking my niece to the old city cemetery for the flashlight tour. She's very excited, in that little kid way. What a cute kid. There's nothing she deserves more than to be taken care of properly. I can't wait to see what kind of person she turns out to be. She's going to be amazing, I hope I have something to do with that.
Pobrecita mi.
Later.

>I luhs you Leon.



He made tofu enchiladas.
He tolerates me when I'm sick and whine a lot.
He buys me beer and let's me drink his too.
He makes good spoons.
He kisses my face.
He wants to go to Target this afternoon.
One day he says he'll send me flowers.
He luhs Cleo and Mouse.
He solves complicated problems in his sleep.
He drives me around.
He luhs me.

Later.

>The plane, the plane!
I usually don't buy lottery tickets....but I was feeling delerious from the fever and bought one at the Circle Seven. Naturally, I won $45,000 and a whirl at the Big Spin. Feeling totally elated, I flew home in my beater station wagon, grabbed Quetzl and headed over to the lottery offices for the cash. Hours later, money in hand, I bought a new car, spent several thousands in furniture, organic vegetarian dog food and clothing. I'm totally exhaused now. Spending money is hard! If you need me, I'll be at the gym working out my spinner arm.
Later.

>Jolly Roger run up the mast.
I'm the star player here in the office, and I look fabolous. Not fabulous, but fabolous. Like, today I came in with my Jimmy Choo shoes on, my Gianni Versace red silk suit, my nails were done and my hair was fierce. I called a meeting on why there weren't any snacks for me yet, and promptly put Peterson on the case. I awarded my self the WEA account, called all my papers and told them to bite it, phoned Chuck Wagner and asked for every new release since the start of the first quarter and the entire Rhino back catalog. After that I got hungry so my driver took me to eat lunch at Biba's for pepper encrusted salmon and a nice glass of Tally pino noir, 1997. I ate exactly half of everything then yelled at the hostess for seating me at a banquette and left without paying. Remember, this was all before noon! I had my driver drop me off at the back door to my office, and I stumbled in. There was a lull, so I made some prank calls to the president of the company, but he wasn't in so I snuck in his office and spiked his secretary's coffee pot with khalua. And when that didn't satisfy me, I made an announcement saying there were free CDs in the lunch room. When everyone was gone, I hid their proofs behind the refridgerator. I got bored so then I tried dancing for a while on my desk, but the heel on my shoe broke, so I had my driver take me home. I was sleepy, so I just curled up and cuddled with my Italian Greyhound, Quetzl. It was a wild day.
Later.

>Not again.
I found out yesterday that my mom might have another brain tumor. For some odd reason I had forgotten about it until just a couple of hours ago. Now I feel totally wrecked, emotional and crazy. I'd rather be at home, and not here at this lame job. I'm going to call her when she gets back from her doctor appointments to see if there's any new news.
Later.

>Your swingin' little hips just gotta be kissed.
Have I mentioned before how much I hate my job? Well, I do. I already have so much to do here, and when people are out it's just overload. It makes me feel overwhelmed and apathetic. I hate office chatter, sharing my weekend with people who don't care about the stuff that I do anyway. Like Take Back The Night on Saturday. We marched past the Faint show chanting, while the hip, pretentious 18 year old girls just stood outside smoking cigarrettes. I don't know why they wouldn't join us. They paid to get in, sure, but they weren't going to go inside anyway. Opting to stay outside and be seen. What a bunch of pussies.
We went looking at an apartment yesterday. A charming one bedroom on 21st street. Hardwood floors throughout, built in china hutch, black & white tile in the kitchen, 30's style sink and tile counter, painted yellow dining nook, washer & dryer and a lovely painted red floor in the bedroom. It even had a communal backyard for the whole little building. We started to get really stoked about living alone and fixing up our little space. Like all the furniture we could get to make it cozy, and not having to worry about roommates who's idea of decoration included army of darkness figurines in my china hutch. You know? So we maybe want to live alone and not with roommates, because we decided we only like to live with eachother. I don't think we will get that place on 21st street, but we'll keep looking.
Hey, my love handles are almost gone!
I keep thinking about how I once heard that people get sick because of how they choose to live. Not necesarily lifestyle, per se, but like someone who might get throat cancer because they never speak about the stuff that bothers them. What if the negative stuff just gets caught up and festers in your throat and makes you sick? Or like people who have heart attacks because their hearts have been broken so many times it becomes a defective organ. I wonder if anything like that would ever happen to me?
Later.

>Talking Boo-boo.
When they sent my computer back to get Windows 2000, they left all the Microsoft games on it. 2000 sucks because they replaced Hearts with Pinball, and I only like Hearts. So now I'm forced to play Solitaire. When my game isn't going so well, I just pull down the Game menu and select Deal, to deal a new deck. Sometimes I wish that it would just let me deal with my life.
Later.

>Fancy dress.
As far as In know, I'm still going to Sigur Ros tonight. Don't laugh, I got a free ticket and a free ride. Apparently there's some scandal now about me and Leon moving into a place with Ben. Whatever. We are all so over this! They're all going to check out some prospective places tonight while I'm out. I trust Leon won't move us into cabrini greens. We are also still looking at one bedrooms, just in case we find a nice place for just the two of us and our baby kitties.
Recipe for the perfect sauce:
1 tbs oil
2 tbs sherry
2 tsb teriaki sauce
1 tbs tamari / soy sauce
Crush 2 large cloves of garlic and mix into sauce well
Add mixture to stir fried vegetables as they're almost done cooking.
Cook the sherry out, then add your fake meat and viola! There's a party in your mouth.
Later.

>Hello Leon, we want to buy a house. Goodbye.
I learned Cooledit last night to make carts at the station. It wasn't too hard. That's all. I had no social interaction last night, so I don't have anything to write about today. I just got word that I may be working late all week. How fun is that? Loads.
I can't wait until pomegranites are in season.
There's nothing tasty about pretzels.
Jack In The Box commercials make me want to buy rice cakes.
Ringo, I love you yeah, yeah, yeah.
Now presenting complete archives, to your left.
Later.

>Tuesday morning peace.
I bought Stereolab tickets for 10/23, can't wait to go. Oh, I guess I'm still going to Sigur Ros this week. Hey, free tickets. It's a nice Tuesday morning in the office, but only because I'm the only one here. I keep meaning to write Lisa back, but I keep forgetting.
Later.

>I was mistaken, my porn name is Watsup Bowling Green. Isn't that terrible?
Friday we partied ourselves out, getting drunk in at least three different places. Sacramento...brrruuuup. Davis....hic. Sacramento...doo-hood, need food. We tried watching Holiday Flyer, but we got bored and agitated. Josh and "Woman" were there. I was so drunk that I asked her if her engagement ring gave her a weapon class bonus. I don't think she understood though.
Saturday night I tried to party at J-will's house for his birthday. Maybe I was all worn out from Friday, or maybe I just don't get down with those people, but it was boring. So were all of those high-fashion weirdos doing the white girl dance in the living room to Prince. The Heathers, Dan and I stood on the porch for most of the night and talked. I got acosted for not being married again. What is it with people?! Are they recruiting or something? Don't they know that my boyfriend is Sam the butcher? In the kitchen I played celery with a baby that was more party than me. I stole some pop rocks, then we went back to the Hull harem to play with cats.
Sunday was a marathon television session. You don't want to know.
Later.