Totally Crunked Out


Tomorrow is my birthday. Camille gave me a special, early gift.

My very own persolalized PIMP CUP!!!


From Iced Out Gear dot com. Or somewhere similar.

It's awesome and I love it so. I can't help but notice the warning on the website that reads:

These cups are made of plastic and you should not drink out of them.

Barkemedes

Barky. I want a dog so bad it breaks my heart. Specifically, I would like a grey or tawny, male whippet puppy that I'll name Barkemedes and whom I'll call Barky for short. Problem is, we don't have a house yet and our apartment won't allow for dogs. Second, I guess I'll need to find a breeder because I have a feeling that there's not a good selction of whippet puppies at the pound.

One day, when the time is right, I'll have my Barky.

Adventures at the gym.

Let me set the tone. I'm at the gym, some evening last week. I'm on the escalator machine on the far left, escalating for about mmm, 5 minutes. I just start breaking a nice sweat when someone gets on the machine beside me on the right. I don't dare look over, you just don't. And the last time that I did, I am not kidding you, I found myself looking down at a very little person. It was akward for both of us, so I just don't look anymore. So there I am escalating and the person next to me is pushing the buttons and adjusting a walkman or something when I hear:
"Niki!" from behind me.
Hmm? Who could that be? I don't turn around, just to be sure I heard correctly.
"Niki. Niki!"
Wha? That IS my name. I turn around and see two punky kids on the stairsteppers. One of them I recognize as someone that used to be in one of Charles's bands. I sort of give a smile and a nod and I don't really get one in return, so I go back to my bidness. Then....
"Niki! Niki!"
OMG!! Dare I turn around again? What are these kids up to?! I turn around again, searching their faces for something, I don't know if this is a trick or they're teasing me or what, but I'm getting annoyed and embarrased. They don't look at me. So as I'm turning back around, I catch a good look at the guy working out next to me, the one who can't hear his friends calling him. He is no other than....
MICKEY.
Mickey!
Defintely not Niki, but can't you see how I was confused?

Spilled Beer

Last night I went out with friends. We went to Lipstick, talked, laughed and danced. I had beer spilled on me twice by two different people. I wasn't drunk, I just smelled like one.

Susan ran into her musician friend who was hanging out with a guy who he introduced as his "producer." Producer?! I joked and said, well then Camille is my attourney and Susan, you are my agent.

Later on I ran into Woodhouse who was in town recording someone. "Oh hey," I said to Susan and Camille, "there goes my producer. Really, he recorded the Frenchmen." I guess a lot of people have producers and are seen in eachothers company outside of the studio.

Funny how that is.