Flush.

I love people. Love love love! However, that doesn't mean I understand them at all, not one bit. Mike seems to understand the worst things about them in an uncanny way, and each little glimpse I get into how he makes sense of them makes me glow like the world is maybe not so difficult to understand. I love Mike's philosophies.

Today I was in the bathroom stall, looking at the feet of the lady who was in the bathroom stall next to me, and I had that recurring thought of mine that seems to happen only in public bathrooms when there is someone in my personal space on the other side of a metal divider with their pants around their knees. That recurring thought goes something like,

Our lives are just the events that happen between bathroom breaks.

I wonder what that other person is thinking. If they are looking at and judging my choice of footwear as I so often do, if they are trying not to fart while they go or if they are embarrased at the silence that humans normally can't tolerate when two people are left in a room together. I wonder how friendly they would be if I decided to strike up a conversation.

Oh, I once struck up a conversation in the dressing room at the gym, about the tv show that was playing, and was ignored by two women. Not very friendly while trying to squeeze into their sports bras.

But back to the public restrooms.... We are dependent on having those porcelain water-filled portals to the sewer, keeping our most disgusting of bodily functions hidden from the eyes. Convenience is key.

Have you ever wondered if anything would change if they started giving girls urinals too, or at least took down the dividers in the majority of public bathrooms? Maybe females would be less body concious. Maybe we would start being more daring, less shy, less concerned about what other people think. Maybe we would be less private and feel less alone.

Maybe not... But really why do they make men stand side by side in an open room where they can look at each other in the eyes when they do the deed? Of course, few people want to take a crap in a room full of onlookers. And please don't make me watch.

Furrends!

Ugh, I earned it. After years of not knowing who or where or why my friends are, I finally have satisfaction with my social scene. Good friends whom I see just often enough. Good conversations with people who actually interest me. I've stopped struggling and started enjoying it. I can hardly remember feeling dissatisfied about the whole thing, and that was not very long ago at all.

I'm up late tonight, packing for my weekend trip to my hometown, you know. That one I was supposed to be on this weekend. Well, I think it will be a good trip. I have changed the oil and fixed up the Blazer so I feel ready for it.

Mike is coming home for 7 precious days and leaving again for the Caribbean. I'm tired of being sad about my sweet boy leaving all the time, I am slowly getting over it. Yet I don't want to be over it.... I want to be miserable and sad every time he goes away. I want to feel the effects of the absense of his presence.

However, shopping working and socializing really do take the mind off of such things. My life is too perfect to be hindered all that much. Just imagine, when I have an x-box. I will never be sad or bored again.

Google Eyes

When we went out to eat at the ethiopian restaurant, Mike sat across the table, looking at me like this:


While I geeked off into space like so:


What did I do to get so lucky? Heh.

I had a great time in Seattle with him.


I got a speeding ticket on the way down, so now I have to either go to court in Washington and give my excuse, or just eat the cost and mail in the fee. Last time I was pulled over for not having my license in California, we had to hire a lawyer to deal with it so I didn't have to fly down. Cost about a Gr to take care of. Apparently when they put you under arrest (like they did that time) they don't let you take care of it by phone/mail.

I did get my California tax rebate check yesterday. $59 megabucks, woo.

You want a tip? Here's your tip...

Recently I went out for dinner and drinks with two lady friends, and because they are vegetarian our dinner options were somewhat limited. We ended up at the Tube, this divey little hipster bar downtown that calls to mind an AirStream trailer, as it is one small room that hums and echoes with a pull-out-bed style bench along one wall along a line of tables. Completely freezing in there. I realized, as mentioned earlier, that I forgot my IDs so my ass went crawling back home to dig them up.

When I return, the girls are just receiving their food so I ask for a menu thinking I might get something quick, or an appetizer. The boy in shants brings the menu begrudgingly, and flees the scene. I'm wondering whats up, the air is not very friendly and I keep getting ignored. I look at the menu, decide on something maybe, and try to catch someone's eye but still no luck. I decide that the food is too spendy and I'm already too late, so I consider getting a drink. Nobody comes by, and the girls are almost finished with their meals (which my starving ass has now devoured more than my share of) so I decide to put off ordering until we get to our next destination, where hopefully the service is a little better. The girls pay - $7 for a drink which I haven't seen since LA and after trying to decipher the garbled prices on the check, we feel confident that they have it all sufficiently worked out and we move on.

Annoyingly enough, I leave my ID behind on the table. When I realized it I run back to the bar, only to have the bartender give me a stony look and accuse us of not tipping enough. "You know, we don't have table service here. Were you dissatisfied with your food?"
"Look, lady. I didn't order any food or any drinks, yet I still threw money into the bill. You should have let me know that you don't have table service so I could have made an effort to scramble up to your tiny bar for my drink instead of thinking I was not hip enough for service at your establishment."

Sure, 2 dollars is less than 10% of a $23 check, but is it really worth asking me about? I didn't even have a drink and I clearly wanted something as I asked for a menu, would it have been asking too much for them to AT LEAST kindly let me know what I had to do just to get a stupid drink, or some food? Why do people not only feel they are entitled to a tip just for doing what they are paid to do, and nothing- NOTHING else? Why is it always the servers in the hipster bars that think they can throw attitude everywhere and still have people throwing money at them? Why would a pricey bar with 15 tables and no more than 3 barstools not have table service? If they don't intend to serve you a check at the end of the meal, then why don't they make you pay for it at the beginning? It's the most idiotic think ever, to tell me "we don't have table service, so why didn't you tip us more?" This marks my third time at the Tube, and I can't say I've ever had even a modestly decent time there.

I just really didn't understand. Honestly I feel like a lot of that night went right over my head.

I had a bang-up time at Portland City Grill however. Friendly service, good atmosphere, excellent mojitos, delicious and cheap food, happy hour from 10 to midnight on weekdays! The view from the 30th floor is pretty nice also.

Anyway, I just wanted to get that off my chest because I was thinking about it when I was lying in bed. Tube sucks, that's all.

Worn out.

I'm so tired, and yet somehow I find myself working late and socializing and waking up early, every night. Tonight is roommate Chris's birthday. I got him the male birth control pill which is a little metal red and white capsule that holds a condom.

Today during lunch Mike called me and invited me to Seattle this weekend. I am unfortunately conflicted, as I had made plans previously to go back to my folks' for a second time to hang out with mum for mothers day. Obviously I'd rather not go back home as I was just there, and since Mike will be out in Alaska for 2 weeks after that I would really love to go. But mothers day! And my amazing mom who would be disappointed and wants me to work on all these community projects which are becoming far too tardy. I hate decisions, maybe I will try the decision machine again.

Last night I went out with the Loaurens, and misplaced my ID twice. I was so mad at myself, I have been so distracted lately. I am pretty sure its the allergies, I am constantly having to clear my throat and I just feel awful. Also I need to get my butt in to the dentist, there is something sharp on my tooth that is diggin in my cheek. I let my boss know that even though I'm kind of a flake right now I'm really working on improving, so hopefully the nasal spray kicks in or I'm going to murder myself for being such a hopeless waste of skin. The house is a mess and all I can do is run around the city and try to never go home. I'm so irritable that I hate on the roommates just for existing, as they never really make anything too messy but they all contribute to the filth, and the filth is harder to point out and make anyone help with.

Today at work I spent far too long trying to make javascript work. I should have just turned over the page to the javascript kid and let him do it, but it always seemed like the answer was just about to appear.

I agreed to pick up the cake, so I guess I'm off to do that. Pity, its ice-cream cake, so I don't even get to eat it.

Depressing.

I wonder

Decision Machine

It just told me that I should get over it and try to fix a friendship. Very weird, try it out. Stolen from PouringDown.

Debauchery

Mission accomplished, we got hammered and blacked out. Twice. Ask me about my drinking problem later, mmmkay? I prefer to just blame circumstances, and lowered inhibitions when you are surrounded by peers who are also all struggling to keep their eyes open. The next-day recap of the events of the evening has become my favorite small town holiday tradition. Sunglasses are a hot accessory at the local greasy-spoon breakfasts. Wake up and find the car, hopefully in one piece. Smile sheepishly when people you don't know ask you knowingly "how are you feeling today?"



I love to hate myself.

The wedding was amazing, and funny. Ringbearers throwing tantrums, a well timed freudian slip by the groom, bridesmaids with matching flasks, fake hillbilly teeth and a enormous glass wedding ring... you get the picture. The bride looked amazing, as brides should. The groom was sufficiently nervous. I danced my party-girl ass off. Can't complain, really... best wedding ever.

Mike flies out again in only a few short hours and I'm already wondering if I could ever feel more love for a person than I do for him right now. His timing, as always, is impeccable. His frequent absences put me in a constant state of googly-honeymoon-eyes.

My name in print.

And so I go down in history. In a way, I guess.

Don't go to bed mad, mmkay?

New goggles arrive tomorrow. I am more than excited. I have been calling Reynolds (both locations) daily for a week now. Annoying the employees there I am sure, they know who I am when I call sometimes. But! They are a week past due, and I am impatient!

Tomorrow I will wear my new glasses in my hometown. Mike and I are attending the wedding of his sister this weekend. I expect to get tossed on cheap liquor with people I've known (though not well) for a long time. Blackouts are inevitable.

Last night for stupid reasons I was up the entire night. A completely irresponsible thing for anyone with a job to do... I had to take a 15 minute break from work to steal a nap in the sunshine on a park bench nearby my workplace. Surprisingly, it worked, and I made it through the rest of the day without falling asleep in my chair.

Mike is tired too. He was also up all night, but got 3 hours more during the day when I was at work. Though neither of us got a good nights sleep, both of us walked away completely sexed up. I think it was worth the dark circles under my eyes to work out all the stress from the projects I've been dealing with night and day lately. I am not accustomed to giving up so much of my free time. I'll be excited for that to finally pay off.

Top ramen, and bed. I can't wait.

Fashionably late as always..

This is the new location of the record of my daily adventures, thoughts and opinions, naturally. If you would like to browse (stalk) my life up to this point you are welcome to visit these sites:

SuicideGirls.com - My journal here (Erin) is the oldest record of my online presence, dating back to January of 2002. I had a diaryland account before that, but, like my first hotmail accounts from high school, diaryland has a limited no-login-no-account policy. Before that I only hung out on hotline servers, flirting with the little so-called hacker boys and learning the basics of photoshop.

Myspace.com - I published here during a temporary SG hiatus, and maintained it because it works really well for non-sg contacts.