holiday salad...

cmas day Salat Olivier turned out quite delish! thanks to yulinka for the recipe.
(my only addition? rosemary. yum!)


hope everyone had a gorgeous holiday <3

baby, it's cold outside...

sometimes i'm so jealous of the koshki. add a book, and this is all i want to do today...

wish list, part 2......

pS - one more thing to add to the cmas list...

i tried...

library dilemma...

at the library, trying to work on my application essays. unfortunately, i am hungry, distracted, drank too much coffee, and don't really know what to write at the moment. suffice it to say, i'm not getting very far.

plus, i have to pee. bad. as in, a-cup-and-a-half-at-home-plus-my-giant-travel-mug-full-of-coffee-all-in-under-and-hour bad. (see? that's pretty bad, right?)

but while the dilemma i face is truly common, that makes it no less important. do i (inconveniently) pack up and lug all my shit to the bathroom with me, only to be almost guaranteed to lose my *choice* spot on the 8th floor by the window overlooking nearly all of downtown san jose, mount diablo, and the foothills on this oh-so-crowded day with SJSU finals approaching? or, do i leave my backpack, purse, jacket, computer, mp3 player, wallet, phone, and brand-new-stainless-steel-CoffeeBean&TeaLeaf-travel-coffee-mug, hoping that i can rely on the goodness of people not to raid my purse, drink my coffee, and steal my shit?

if that dilemma weren't difficult enough already, imagine trying to decide all of this while you have to PEE.

hmmm.

a simple girl...

the modest beginnings of my cmas wish list...

what i did last night...

please don't be sad if you don't get a cmas card. i can only cut out so many damn snowflakes!

second thoughts...

i'm not sure i should have ever gone to college.

i don't think that i would have become an alcoholic if i hadn't...

hawaikiki...

last week the russian and i were in hawaii. i had to (had to, riiiight...) attend a conference for work, and so we spent 5 days at the hilton hawaiian village in waikiki.

i had planned to write every night while i was there, but the internet was $15+ per day, and my job had already spent $2000 to send me there - i wasn't sure i could justify another $75 on internet. especially since i had brought the russian along for the ride, and while they weren't paying for him directly, he was still benefiting.

but i digress.

actually, maybe i don't. i have neither the time nor the motivation to tell you the details of my trip at the moment.

suffice it to say that the ocean was warm, the beer was cold, and the views were lovely.

more later...

pS - one other thing...
i hate the fact that spending 5 days at the hilton means that i am in some way (however indirectly) responsible for horse-shit like this...


bleeeehhh :(

naively and tentatively hopeful...

i feel guilty for being so hopeful - like a traitor to my hating-dubya-and-all-that-comes-along-with-him self. after eight years of actively detesting the president, his government, his politics, his policies, ecetera, it feels strange to feel a genuine enthusiasm again. to feel inspired. to feel as if america, while definitely fucked up, may not be a lost cause after all.

i quote a drunk kittyhotpants in january when i say
"obama is the future."

cheesy - definitely.
naive - possibly.

but this early in the game, i'm okay with that.

out with the old.. in with the new...

another beard...

i cannot believe i forgot to add t.j. thyne to my beard list. must be the bump on the head i experienced the other day.
anyways, here he is...




by the way - i am tickled pink! about Obama, and will write more soon. be patient, my dears. until then, enjoy the gorgeous beard of dr. hodgins from bones.

cook revisited...

in honor of david cook's appearance on SNL last night, here is a little something i wrote over the summer...

Wednesday, Jun. 18, 2008 - 8:41 p.m.

this is so embarrassing. SO embarrassing.

but i have this totally absurd, nonsensical, unreasonable and unearthly crush on david cook. really! how embarrassing.

me, who wants to study pop culture. me, who revels in the antique lewd-ness of women smoking cigarillos, bobbing their hair, and (gasp!) going to co-ed dance halls. i love that shit. i eat it up. i would give nearly anything to be entirely immersed in 1920's pop culture. but that's the thing - it's still POP culture. i'm intrigued by it - yet if i were to actually be living it, i'm certain i would detest it.

ah, the complications of being uncontrollably, unintentionally hypocritical.

i hate today's pop culture - jingles about big macs, apple vs. pc commercials, anime (is that still cool?), blogging (the thought!), blackberry's and podcasting, etc. i hate that letter writing, typewriters, calling on people and leaving your card, and hat-wearing have all gone out of style. i want to stroll into a speakeasy like i'm not scared (although i would be terrified of getting caught by the fuzz) and order a rye and soda like it's nobody's business. where's the charm in take-out? i want to order-up to the hotel suite i am living in. and send up a bottle of sauce while you're at it - i'm fixin' to get tight tonight.

but wait - i digress. this was supposed to be about my fascination with david cook, the "hottest" singer in america, victorious winner of all that is wrong with american "pop culture", the rubbish that is - (in-booming-ryan-seacrest-imitating-the-Lets-Get-Ready-To-Rumblllllllllllle-guy) Amer-ican I-dol.

david cook. the underdog. the guy who only tried out because he was keeping his brother company during HIS tryout. he was fantastic. amazing. blew me (and the rest of america) away each week with his new renditions, quirky arrangements, and sexy performances. even though you knew his heart was in the competition, he had the air of not caring if he won or not. (personally, i think it was because he might have been better off if he hadn't won - he would eventually be able to shake the stigma of having gotten his start on american idol.)

he was sexy. not *cute* like his half-queer competition, that cheery little goody-two-shoes david archuleta. that guy won over the elderly and the elementary school crowd the second he uttered his first on-key-perfect-pitched note and flashed those pearly whites while mugging that oh-so-appreciative-innocent-who-me?-i-don't-deserve-this smile.

but david cook was sexy in a non-threatening sort of way. he had this chubby, giant noggin, matt-skiba-from-alkaline-trio wanna be thing goin' on. and yet he seemed perfectly comfortable hangin' with andrew lloyd webber and rocking out on neil diamond's "i’m alive!,” even while he was rockin’ the blazer-tshirt-tie-skinny jeans look, with his hair in perfect mussed-up-bedhead-mode. scratchy voice, boyish charm, 5 o’clock shadow, a partial faux-hawk and partial faux-individualism, that damn david cook had it all. Shit, even my mom loved this guy.

but let’s move on to my crush. it’s absolutely delusional. i can't stop thinking about this a-hole! the first time I really looked twice at him was during one of his segments. the contestants were supposed to talk about something unique, something America didn’t know about them. he said he was (and I quote) a *word nerd*. A fucking Word Nerd???! He couldn’t have uttered anything more enticing to me. I’m enamored. But david, I’M a word nerd too! OMG – two dorky peas in a pop-punk pod! He even used the word *enamored*! Along with ostentatious, vindicating, and homage – and finally culminating the dorkiness by saying he was “a geek for vocab.” and then, immediately afterwards, he rocked the hizzouse with the rock classic Free's "All Right Now". He also had a hit with Billie Jean (which coincidentally, is my favorite Michael Jackson song). and then the hits just kept on comin’ - “Eleanor Rigby”, Neil Diamond x2, Mariah Carey’s “Always Be My Baby”; everything was sung so convincingly, and gave me goosebumps every single time. I was hooked.

But this is not meant to be a re-cap of the show, nor a fan’s account of their favorite contestant. This is about my personal embarrassment regarding my love for david cook, winner of American idol. Of my self-loathing due to my obscene fascination with Mr. David Cook. i feel like a teenager again. Watching him was like being in 5th grade and watching New Kids on Letterman. Like loving River Phoenix and watching "The Thing Called Love". Like seeing Leonardo DiCaprio for the first time in an interview. I was mesmerized, drooling almost. I am 8 months shy of turning 30, and I was turned to jelly by this 25 year old quasi-rockstar. David Cook made me feel like a kid again. I started having dreams about him – not just daydreams, and not just PG ones, either. This guy was in my head. I wanted him to win the contest just so I could keep seeing him each week. He had a hold on me. The show ended weeks ago, and I am still thinking of him. It’s insanity. I genuinely want to marry this guy. How juvenile of me! But my subconscious takes over, and I find myself thinking he’s the perfect guy for me, and he's so romantic, and maybe he'll sing to me on our first date, and he must be just SO nice, and he’s so my type. I mean seriously – it’s insanely f-ing DELUSIONAL. I can't even believe I am telling you this.

But, come on. He gave Neil-fucking-Diamond goosebumps. Think of what he could do to me… How could I resist?

a penny for my thoughts...

somedays i really worry. it can't be good for my liver, nevermind the rest of my body, to drink several beers a day and take pills the way i do. i must be headed for jaundice or worse.
it must be inevitable, right?

but then other times, as sad and unbelievable as it sounds, i Just Don't Care. i'd rather drink the beers, and take the pills, and get through it.
it must be an instant gratification kind of thing.
it must be an *addiction* kind of thing.

i mean, logically, if i know that something is bad for me, and yet i continue to do it anyways, what does that say???

halloween is near...

had our 2nd Annual Capitola Pumpkin Carving Fest at my brother and Ru's house last saturday.

i carved the simpsons version of me...

big plans...

agenda for Sunday, October 19...

1. continue reading Little Women

2. work on Research Interest paper

3. drink mimosa's (purely medicinal for my cold, i swear...)

4. eat corn chowder

5. avoid doing laundry

6. watch marathon of Bizarre Foods on the travel channel

7. watch the last episode of Northern Exposure (Season 2) so i can send the disc back already!

8. get over my cold so that i will be ready to tackle my extremely busy week

the beard...

beards are so sexy. why won't the russian grow one? (in all fairness, he IS russian - he probably can't...)
nevertheless, here are some of my current favorite beards...

...david cook...

...joshua jackson...

...james loney...

...hugh laurie...

read some russian history. it's good for you!

so my mom has been in the hospital off and on for the least week, and i have been out of town for the last three days. hence, no post this week.

instead of reading Ms. Hotpants, try some russian history, with these two new books i'm in the middle of:

Through Dark Days and White Nights, Naomi Collins

A Brief History of Russia, Michael Kort

happy reading! (as happy as you can be reading russian history, that is...)

tongue tied...

Finally tried the Tied House in San Pedro Square this weekend. Here is a first-timers-first-impression...

I started off with the *Sampler 8* - 6.oz samples of each of their 8 beers. Not a bad selection, for $11.75. My initial reactions?

Alpine Gold - tastes like a slightly better version of Coors Light. Sweeter!

Cascade Amber - not too bad, a little bit o' bitterness. Clean, refreshing.

Ironwood Dark - similar to (but smoother than!) Newcastle. Really nice! Easy to drink.

New World Wheat - this is no hefewiezen! I like to think of wheat beers as a refreshing version of an alcoholic lemonade on a hot summer day. This is Not That Beer. Not cloudy, no lemon. Different (but good.)

Fruit Beer - Passionfruit Pale Ale. Now, this is the refreshing afternoon lemonade-like beer I was looking for! Fruity, but not too sweet. Would definitely order again on a warm afternoon, or on an evening when I didn't really feel like drinking. A nice change from a heartier beer.

Amber Light - bleh. Boring. And who wants a drink that's lower in *alchohol*?! Where's the fun in that? Yeah, yeah, it's lower in calories, but I don't think it's worth it.

Oatmeal Stout - pretty good flavor. Not as creamy as your typical stout, but I like it. Almost like a Sam Smith's Oatmeal Stout. Fairly mild. Don't compare it to Guinness though...

Seasonal Special - IPA. strong. Sweet at first, bitter aftertaste. Not the best IPA I've had, (and I do love me a good IPA) but interesting.

Wouldn't Try Again: New World Wheat, Amber Light
Maybe, If I Was Already Drunk or Felt Like Switchin' It Up: Cascade Amber, Alpine Gold, Oatmeal Stout, IPA
Yes! And Make It A Pitcher!: Ironwood Dark, Passion Pale Ale

As far as the food went, I only tried the fries. The seasoning was supposed to be garlicky and pesto-y - instead it just tasted like they had a bottle of dry Parmesan cheese dumped on them. The fries themselves however, were actually quite good - browned and crispy on the outside, soft and warm on the inside. The server brought bread when I arrived, which was nice. Half brown, half white, baked together in one loaf. Kind of like a Seinfeld black-and-white cookie. Clever.

For my next trip, I plan to have the Wild Game burger. I can never seem to resist ostrich!

my apologies for the poor quality photo. spur-of-the-moment-camera-phone-shot...

ms. hotpants' chocolate and beer chili...

the russian thinks he doesn't like chili. i'm determined to change his mind - with this recipe...

brown 1 lb. ground turkey in a skillet, adding cloves of garlic, chopped onion, hot sauce, and spices (garlic powder, dill, cumin)

add browned turkey to pot with these ingredients:
1 can black beans
1 can garbanzo beans
1 can white beans
1 can corn
1 can stewed tomatoes
1 can tomato paste
1 chopped tomato
chopped onion
chopped garlic
1 hersey's chocolate bar
1 newcastle (or any other dark beer)
spices - garlic powder, cumin, basil, dill, oregano, cayenne pepper, black pepper

cook until done. (so specific, i know...)

serve topped with sour cream and a side of cornbread.

YUM!

run away...

sunday i went for a run. i shit you not, an actual RUN! sure, i was only gone for 7 minutes, but still. a journey of a thousand steps starts with one (and all that other malarky), right? right.

i have never been a runner. not even close. i've danced pretty much my whole life, and did cheerleading in high school, but never did any of that really involve running. a run, to me, is torturous in oh-so-many ways. the jarring of my bones together with each step, the wheezing, the light-headed-ness. most of the time, i feel like there is an actual hole in my throat when i am running, and sometimes i think i just might die from lack of oxygen. my lungs feel as if they are being wrung out like a wet sponge, and my face feels so red and swollen that it might just explode. you can see why i don't run very often.

i have however, experienced some of the benefits. once you get better at it, it's a lot easier, and almost even refreshing at times. there is, of course, also the amazing sense of accomplishment that comes along with it. the pride is the part i like, along with the satisfying next-day-aches.

the only time that i ever truly enjoyed running was in santa barbara. living in a dorm where i knew no one, i often found myself with new people trying new things that i never would have imagined doing before. one of these things was running. since my friend nicky excels at peer pressure, (i think he might even have majored in it), he was often the one pushing me into these things. and so thanks to him, one fall-like evening in october we went for a run. and to my complete surprize, it wasn't so bad. i wasn't totally converted, but throughout the year, nicky and i did go running every once in awhile.

a run in isla vista is different. it's different from a run in LA, different from a run around my high school track, different from a run in downtown san jose. and i miss it. since college, everytime i have ever gone for a run, i have always tried to mentally transport myself to IV. running along the cliffs, the ocean breeze blowing softly against my cold sweaty body, the salty scent in the crisp fall air, the crash of the waves along the sand, the view of the orange and fading sun setting over the flat blue water. it was truly breathtaking.

and it spoiled me on running anywhere else.

scary.

republican national convention = nuremberg rally.



yikes.

back in the saddle...

kidney-infection-detox has ended.

i enjoyed several cups of coffee over the weekend, and am about to have my first one today as we speak (write).

the beer-fast ended saturday at my dad's house. my brother CSS, his wife Ru, my sister Rin and her boyfriend Sears joined our dad and stepmom Karol at their house in boulder creek for tacos. when we were growing up, tacos was always the number one requested dish in our house, and it still is today. my dad's tacos are ab-fab, and every few months we try to get together for *tacos at dads*. in addition to tacos, this usually involves beer, darts, fun, more beer, and occasionally some can-shootin' with bee-bee guns. (we are a semi-white-trash family of beer-drinkers - what can i say?) anyways, due to the kidney infection (and the severe antibiotics that were raging through my system,) i decided to take it easy... 3 beers later, i was buzzed. but 3 beers is better than 6, and so i am impressed with myself. sad but true.

sunday night, the russian and i used a $10 off coupon to try E & O Trading Company, and i continued to take it easy, ordering only one Lagunitas IPA to wash down our absolutely de-lish din. (review of E & O to follow later this week...)

yesterday we went to grande for burgers and beer. by chance, our waitress turned out to be russian. this, of course, always leads to trouble in the form of imbibing a little extra alcohol (but that is another entry, for another day...)
long story short - we had 2 pitchers of beer instead of just one, officially putting an end to my week-of-moderation.

still though - i am going to try and drink in moderation only. it is a skill that i need to master, and honestly should have learned a long time ago. my liver, kidneys, and social life will thank me.



enjoy a photo of me and my daddy, showing big smiles after a few beers. and yes - that's a simpsons t-shirt.

substitute...

sorry i've been MIA lately. spent a weekend in capitola with the russian (photoblog to follow shortly!) and this past week i have been dealing with a kidney infection. зануда = no fun!

since i haven't posted, read this instead. very fun blog about food - russian and otherwise.
i <3 yulinka!

see you soon. until then, enjoy these koshka matryoshka :)

swimming pools, uneven bars...

re: the olympics

1. micheal phelps is not human. i think he is an alien. seriously.

2. i heart nastia liukin. i have loved gymnastics from the moment i watched Nadia on tele when i was 5. nastia is certainly no Ms. Comaneci, but she is damn good. graceful, elegant, powerful, and was born in moscow even! so the russian and i can agree on her, at least :)
[kind of. personally, i think he secretly finds her a traitor...]

отлично!

3. is shawn johnson a midget? i'm not trying to be mean or make a joke here. i think she really might technically be a little person. Wiki says she's 4'9'' - i think that's the legal height for a little person. then again, she is only 16. she's got time to grow, i guess.

4. bela karolyi makes me giggle. is he drunk? (possibly.) senile? (not likely.) i'm not so sure about that, but two things are certain: he is perhaps, the best gymnastics coach EVER, and he is indeed a total spaz. and i love him.

pS - check the links! i went a little crazy adding some extras :)

if only...

a gorgeous wall full of books...

a caption is worth a thousand words...

my dad in dc...

"they were watermelons, i tell ya!"

no, ura hogg!

her name is no joke!

(although there is no ura...)

a bold statement.

en generale, i tend to avoid bold statements, but i am going to make one here:

Side One of Fleetwood Mac's Self-Titled 1975 album is, by far, the single best side of a record, ever.

Track List:

1. Monday Morning
2. Warm Ways
3. Blue Letter
4. Rhiannon
5. Over My Head
6. Crystal

All six songs are fabulous.

A few years ago I was staying with Nick-Tony-Spencer in Woodland Hills. Nick & Tony were roommates/friends from college, and Spencer was Tony's BFF from high school. Long story short, Spencer and I were dating and I was out of an apartment, and I ended up freeloading with them for a few months. Anyways, when it was my week to clean, I would kick the boys out of the apartment, put on FM's *Rumours*, and clean my ass off. I never thought I could love another record more than I loved Rumours.

Until I discovered this one.

Unsuspectingly, I picked it up at the Goodwill one day, for 99 cents. I didn't even have a record player at the time, but was building my collection for when I finally acquired one. I loved Rumours so much that I figured anything else by them must be pretty good too. Holy moly, wasn't I surprized when Gary finally gave me a record player. I was blown away. And now I listen to it every chance I get. It never gets old. Ab-Fab.

I highly suggest picking this up the next time you see it at a yard sale or in the bargain bin. Worth the dollar, and then some!

pS - totally not my type, but how HOT was lindsey buckingham?! yowzah!

embarrassing photos 101

sometimes i drink too much.

despite all appearances, tonight is NOT one of those nights.

here is a picture of one of those nights.




is that a WHOLE bottle of vodka??

and here is another, (giving my best billy idol. holla!)





here's one of me drunk, standing on a bar:



and finally:




she was fun. i seriously miss her. we had 6 or so strawberry-lemonades that evening. *sigh*

anyhoo, i'm done embarrassing myself (for the evening.) i'm gonna go watch my beloved gilmore girls now.
(speaking of the *gilmores*, she looks like lorelai... *double sigh*)

and finish my beer.

night!

vicelog for le 7 aout:

7ish? beers (happy hour din, music in the park, gilmore girls... you know how it goes.
some days are long.)

6625 Abrego Road

sometimes i long for such simple things from the past. just now i was thinking about one of the places i lived in santa barbara. the house itself wasn't that great, but it was the first time i had had my own room in, well, years. close to 5 years, actually. it was small (the queen size mattress i had stacked on my futon took up the majority of the space, with barely room for a desk and my tele,) narrow, and had dark green carpet; all of which made me feel like i was living on a pool table. thankfully there was a built-in bookcase, because there certainly wasn't room for a free-standing one. it was tiny, but it was all mine, and i loved it. it was safe and cozy. in that room i started my first blog, took an obscene amount of self-portraits, drank my first homemade cosmo (alone), and watched way too much elimidate (while eating an entire can of pringles.) it was my sanctuary.

this morning while i was walking to the bathroom at work, i for some unknown reason flashed on that room; the closet, in particular. for how small the room was, the closet was disproportionately large. it was a walk-in closet, with no door. since i didn't have any cats yet (pets are virtually forbidden in any Isla Vista apartment), i had the luxury of hanging a sheer white curtain in the doorway. (said sheer white curtain is currently sitting folded in my linen closet at home, unused since the arrival of my two koshki. if you are a cat owner, you well know that the words *sheer* and *cats* do not go together...)

anyways, i loved this closet, for no particular reason. it was just big and private and had a pretty curtain, and i could cry in it if i felt the need. and this morning i missed it. now that i live with 2 cats and a Russian, i don't have a lot of *alone-time*. our closet is giant, but it's not all that great for crying in.

and unfortunately, there's no pretty curtain either.

on a lighter note...

i am by no means a wine aficionado. i am, in fact, a self-proclaimed non-wine-drinker/beer-lover. i can't help it - i love beer. i grew up in a beer-lovin' family. plus, it's delicious. but more about the joys of beer later. tonight i am here to discuss... wine.

since i do love drinking en generale, not drinking wine cuts out a pretty large portion of the alcohol market for me. plus, i kind of like the idea of a sophisticated evening, sipping on a nice glass of wine while reading voltaire and snacking on some havarti dill and water crackers. it sounds so refined, ya know?

anyways, a few years ago i had this roommate jessie, who was, BY FAR, the greatest roommate on the face of the earth. i swear - if you ever have the opportunity to live with JC, do it. you will have a blast, make a friend for life, and never regret it.

but i digress.

jess wines and, well, wines with the best of them. girl likes her beer, but christ on a cracker, can she drink some m-f-ing WINE. at one point during our cohabitation, jess and her boyfriend broke up. she was going through a rough time, and consequently i would come home from work and find her 3 bottles deep - purple teeth and all, begging me to sing karaoke or make a jack-in-the-box run. we usually ended up eating philly cheesesteak hotpockets from the fridge, while i had a few beers and she tried to sober up for work in the morning.

but again - i digress.

so while i was living with jessie, i decided it was high time i became a wine drinker. i no longer wanted to discriminate against an entire category of booze. being a beginner, i decided i needed to start at the beginning. a nice, slow ease into the world of wine - with some blush Franzia. thus, my first foray into wine drinking began with some refrigerated white zin - straight outta the box. needless to say, it couldn't end well.

and it didn't.

i (barely) recall barfing pink wine and ham-n-cheese hotpockets into the bathtub late one night, while i sat on the toilet. i had been drinking the franzia out of the biggest wine glass you've ever seen (it was like a goblet!), while Dr. Scott (bachelor # 2 for the month) and i watched the OC on dvd. it was a long time before i tried anything made from fermented grapes again.

but lately i have been trying to be a big girl, and introduce myself to some new wines. i have come to realize that i pretty much only like white wines. perhaps this is just beginners luck, or maybe my tastebuds aren't suited for reds, but either way i am okay with whites for now.

the wine i tried tonight is called Middle Sister, selected solely for the name (i'm quite discriminating, obviously. the majority of my picks are based on the name or the label. what can i say? i'm a sucker for advertising.) it is white, which is as advanced as my limited knowledge of wine can describe it. and while being a tad sweet, it was pretty good, and met my biggest requirement - it didn't make me shudder, homer-simpson-when-he-sees-patty-and- selma-stylie. hopefully, the more wines i taste, the more descriptive i can be. at this point, all you get are simple adjectives and cartoon comparisons...

i have attached a picture for further reference.

enjoy!

vice log for monday, le 4 aout...

partial bottle of wine
1 soma/1 vicodine (cramps...)
multiple cups o' coffee
half a piece of carrot cake
(this was just to spite the Russian, so he couldn't have the whole piece. aren't i terrible...?)

what do you get when you put two mules together?

on our walk home, the Russian and i passed a make-up-less girl in an unbuttoned plaid flannel shirt, baggy silvertab jeans, bookish glasses, and a faux-hawk. and my first thought was "i'd rather be a lesbian than have just argued about f-ing GROCERIES with my boyfriend at Zanottos."

as the Russian and i walked home from the store, we each only spoke one word - to a lady walking her dog. she extended a warm evening greeting, and despite our nasty mood, the Russian and i both obliged her with a semi-friendly (albeit slightly forced sounding) hello. the walk home with the groceries was otherwise silent - with the exception of some interesting words from one quite prolific bum, who seemed to hit the nail on the head; "Everytime you settle for less, less is what you get."

i certainly do not think that i am settling for less with the russian. he is an amazing person, in many ways - and when we are not bickering over money, we have intelligent, interesting, silly, loving, fun, smart conversations. on the other hand, we do argue about a lot of useless shit. say, for instance, groceries. piddly, petty things. thankfully, this is pretty much the only thing we argue about - but still.

how can two extremely stubborn people learn to look beyond the petty arguments that accompany daily life, and remember to just continue to enjoy each other? we both hate being so stubborn. we both want to just have fun together. why do stupid things like cheese and v8 have to ruin the whole shebang?

dream din?

my boyfriend is Russian, and a software engineer. you can imagine the level of social awkwardness i'm dealing with here. while he's been in the US for a few years now, he's only been in the bay area about a year (as long as we have been together). he is studying software engineering at san jose state, and is currently jobless. put this all together, and you can see that we don't have a lot of friends. none, actually.

even though i myself am technologically challenged, i somehow often seem to find myself dating computer dorks (programmers, and the like.) 3 out of 4 of my last boyfriends have been either working on their latest code, or adding graphics to their short film (or something like that. i told you i'm computer-retarded.)

anyways, i have this good friend from college who also fits into this tech-dork category, and lately i have been wishing that he lived here in silicon valley rather than in cincinatti. the Russian and i could have gerard and his lovely wife sarah over for dinner and beers. sarah and i could chat about, oh i don't know, knitting or cats or something *house-wifey*, while the Russian and gerard hashed it out over the latest java update or the new iApp. the Russian would finally have a nerdy-partner-in-crime, and i could fulfill my oh-so-pathetic dream of living the 30-something-young-professionals-wine-and-cheese-and- intelligent-discussion evening that i must have seen on the tele somewhere when i was a youth. part of me detests that scenario, just based on principal, while another part of me longs for it. it seems safe and fun. sad, but true.

pS - sarah, i was totally joking about the knitting and cats. i'm sure we could find much cooler/less trite things to talk about ;-)

and gerard - don't worry; the evening will definitely involve beer, not wine (unless sarah wants some.) as you very well know, i myself am a beer gal - not a wino.

vice log for sunday, le 3 aout

working on my 4th cup o' coffee.
so far my strained neck isn't causing me to writhe in pain like yesterday, so i should be able to avoid the painkillers today.
then again, it is only 4 o'cock...

A Tribute to Vice, pt. 1 - The Joys of Chew (or, Oh, That Wacky Tobaccy!)

i love vice. really, i can't help it. (that's probably actually physically true at this point. i've been *vice-ing* too long for my emotions to be the only part of my body that's addicted.)

and of course, like anyone else, i have my vices of choice. never cigarettes, although my fascination with the 1920's, flappers, and speakeasies makes that a tough one. i am a fanatical anti-smoker, annoying and harassing those poor unfortunates who deign to perform their disgusting vice in my presence. i do however, love a good fake-smoke. give me my LA dodgers lighter and a Capri 120 (those are the long, "glamorous" ones) anyday, and i will fake-smoke my ass off. cigarettes are just such a great prop, ya know? i've always said that you can never feel alone with a cigarette. a pretty bold statement for a non-smoker, wouldn't you say? ;-)

true to my contradictory nature though, i love a good chew. filthy, i know, but holy moly! for someone who is totally sickened by cigarette smoke and consequently has never experienced the joys of nicotine, a mouthful o' tobaccy, for even just a minute or two, is a truly all-consuming-and-totally-addicting experience. of course, i'm a total sissy about it, and purchase the pouches (heaven forbid i actually swallowed any of the stuff!), and always of the Mint variety. no chew is complete without a beer (PBR in a bottle is my personal favorite - they complement each other so well) and a plastic cup to spit in. tip for beginners - use the cup only until you are done with your first beer. after that, you (of course) use the bottle to spit in. woe betide the person that gets drunk-and-dizzy-and-altogether-so-mixed-up that they interchange the bottles though! i think a sip or even a whiff of the spit from your own chew might be enough to reform you.

you'd think that a series of pictures of me, shot while undertaking a chew in public, with my family, at my cousin lindsey's wedding, (with a Michelob, of all beers!) might be a bit of a deterrent also.

then again, maybe they just show how addicting vice is, no matter how truly disgusting you honestly think it is, once you've gotten the hang of it.

vice log for saturday, le 2 aout

over the course of the entire day, i have had...
2 cups of coffee
7 beers
1 ativan
2 vicodine

and there might be a soma to come, before i lay my head down to sleep...

still totally lucid and coherent though. not surprizing, considering the vice has been spread throughout the day.