It's just another day closer to thirty.

I'm still here. Last night I went to bed too late. We stayed up practicing our songs, me on my new guitar.

Dear mid-sixties black with white pick guard Silvertone guitar with working amp in case,
You are the coolest and most useful birthday present that I can remember receiving.

Signed,
Le Teeni

It's my birfday.

Opening my morning mail this morning, I got a strange package addressed to me in handwriting I didn't recognize. Yeah, I know all that business about not opening suspicious parcels, but I figured, what the hell? It's my birfday. I took a long drag of my cigarette and started fingering the packaging tape. I peeled the tape off of the top opening of the box and opened the flaps. Inside, nestled within the styrofoam peanuts was a bottle of Cristal wrapped in gold cello-paper. A card attached to the neck read:

Go, go, go, go, go, go, shorty its ya birthday
We gonna party like its ya birthday
Gonna sip Bacardi like its ya birthday
And you know we don't give a (what), cuz its ya birthday

Love you girl,
50 Cent

Aww. He remembered!!

Panties in a bunch.

In the primary ladies restrooms here in my office, there are stalls A, B, and C (no, they're not actually labeled). For this purpose, let's say that stall A is the first and closest stall to the entrance, B is the middle stall and C is the last stall. For whatever reason, ladies favor stall A. I prefer stall C because I know it will almost always be free. Hardly anyone uses stall B because no one really wants to pee next to someone if they can help it, and if you pick stall B and someone else either chooses stall A or C, you're faced with the uncomfortable situation of having someone pee next to you. Oh gosh, what if you fart?! Stall B is cleary the saddest stall to be in and should only be used in emergency situations or amongst friends. However, for some reason today I was in my usual stall (C) and someone came in and intentionally sat in stall B! Luckily I was just finishing up, but my goodness! The nerve! Stall A was clearly open and yet they chose to sit next to my occupied stall. It's puzzling!

On my way to the office today.

Buying a Big Spin lottery ticket this morning, I knew that I wouldn't win anything. But I bought it anyway, took it to my car and scratched the scratchy off (always with the car key). I was right, I didn't win anything. It was far too cold outside. The day I win something big will be a sunny morning. I would just turn the car around and go back home.

Freeby McGrabby.

I think he just doesn't know the etiquette. When you work in a place like I do, you don't ask to go through someone else's promos. I mean, if you want to go through someone's promos and talk about new music, go for it. However, you don't if you're fishing for things for yourself or at worst, your friends. Because, one should know that they are perfectly capable of nagging their own reps for free shite.

Sicky.

I think I'm coming down with whatever is going around. Achoo.

Today: Free lunch and CDs.
Tomorrow: The world. And maybe recovery from Saturday's kickboxing class. My legs are still sore.

I can totally beat your ass - in aerobic form.

P.S. Hot off the rumor mill: Steven Malkmus had sex in my apartment building!

Zzzz.

This weekend I've got nothing to do for once, thankfully. I'd love to sleep through the whole thing if I could.

5 Tiny Pleasures:
1. Aranciata.
2. Vegan taquitos.
3. Playing with gentle glass things.
4. New clogs.
5. The color red.

Pop Holiday.

The Frenchmen are playing at this year's Pop Holiday in SF.

Show Dates:
7/10 - 7/13

Dance party kick-off:
7/9

We don't know which date we will actually play. But I hope it's not the Sunday bbq.

I'd rather be elsewhere.

Somedays I like my job and other days I don't. Today is one of those other days. In fact, this is one of those weeks.

Just to let you know.

Gooooaaaal.

I scored free lunch today and have leftovers to boot. It's only fancy pizza from Il Fornaio, so don't get all excited.

This weekend was fun. We celebrated, we ate, we drank and we put about 400 miles on my car. The bulk of recording with John is over. I got my guitar parts finished without too much fuss and I can't wait to see the photos we took.

Last night I dreamed about brainstorming fail-proof ways of disposing of dead bodies. This is what I cooked up in my sleep (pardon the pun): Get a woodchipper and make a mulch for gardening. I watch too many gory serial killer documentaries on cable.

...It's [going to be] your birfday. We gonna party like it's your birfday.

Tonight is Valentine's date supremo. We're going to the Kings game, where we may or may not have romantic nachos. Then we head off to the city for party like it's your birfday. And Saturday will really be Leon's birfday so we'll run around like we own the place and eat and drink whatever we want.

The terrible thing about our apartments is that you can easily hear what's happening next door to you. The great thing is, you can easily hear what's happening next door to you. Overheard:
"Larry had this nasty sore on his penis and then I got one on my cooch."

Yeah, basically.

Whatever she says then I'm that.

I'm sitting here at work listening to the Black Keys. For the record: I do not care for the blues. Furthermore, I especially do not care at all for the whiteboy blues. Our email is down right now and I just don't know what to do with myself.

Last night I had a wonderful dream where I was paying off all my bills. Writing over and over again in cursive, "paid in full."

Tiny pleasures:

Veggie sausage
Warm cats
Scottish fitba
Lots and lots of clean underwear

Wah, wah.

I feel so exhausted lately. I wish I could just sleep all day and listen to Galaxie 500 (at least just the songs without saxaphone). I think it's time for multi-vitamins or maybe a good punch in the guts.

Clearly, your dream is a message from your subconcious telling you to...

Last night I dreamed of pythons slithering around secret rooms in a house I lived in, murders of crows with nowhere else to perch but in the mud and calmness after torrential rains.

I want stuff.

I want this jacket.
I want these shoes.

And I plan to buy one of them as a birthday present for myself pretty soon. Maybe.

Hey, I know you.

So here I am back at school after about three years and I feel like I never left. I see the same people! That bald speedos guy from my swimming class three years ago is still walking around. The round girl with the fashionable hair cuts still looks pissed off, and the same meatheads still hang out around the gymnasium.

As seen on the back of a Chevy truck in the city college parking lot: HAVE YOU DRIVIN OVER A FORD LATLEY

I hope he was on his way to spelling class.

Somebody has a case of the Mondays!

If it weren't for the mac and cheese I had last night, I would be in far worse shape today. A little hung over, I tried to correct my state with the magic three:

citrus
caffine
starch

It worked, but I was left feeling foggy, so I doubled my caffine and now I feel chatty and restless. Somebody please put me out of my misery.