a conversation i actually had

(pointing to the rubber, orange, light-up fish around my neck that i got for my 30th birthday an hour before)

mz: "why does nemo look so sad?"

me: "because his name's frank!"

my forehead is BUMPIN'!

spilled half a glass of water in my keyboard. after four painful days, a cool-air hairdryer (thank christ for cosmetology school) and a near nervous breakdown, my mac fired up about 10 minutes ago. no idea how long it will last. i've already lost data like 3 times already this year, so i'm numb to that. just don't take away my baby! i dare you fuckers to pour water in your PC and see what happens...

i shouldn't talk shit. i'm not out of the woods yet. with any luck, i'll be electrocuted. i seriously can't live without this computer.

a conversation i actually had:

(at a bar in del mar during my first week in san diego)

guy: "hey, what's up?"

me: "not much."

(5 minutes of idle chat)

me: "y'know, i don't think redheads are attractive. but you're pretty hot."

guy: "nah."

me: "honestly, you're a very handsome guy."

guy: "no, i'm really not."

me: *slap*

guy exits

sg: "dude, you just slapped that guy!"

me: "yeah. he needs to learn how to take a compliment."

sg: "that look on his face was priceless -- he looked like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to hit you back or marry you."

the fog

just got home *coughearlycough* from school. i drove home in the fog. i love fog..

i love precipitation in general. i seem to be the only one in san diego who feels that way, which is fine. i love it enough for all of them.

sometimes i get caught up in my life and forget that i want to be a better person. i want to be someone that i look in the mirror at and love, respect, admire, and would do anything to protect. it's been a while since i've felt any of those things.

i'm my worst critic, WAAAY too hard on myself. i'm okay with that. i'm not perfect by any stretch, but i can change the things i can, and learn to love the ones i can't. i have found that it's always nice to see yourself through the eyes of a friend.

i got to do that tonight. it was nice. and seeing myself from their perspective left me feeling really good. i remind myself i'm not the only one with problems, struggles, failures. compared to some, i'm doing pretty fucking good.

so enough of the inner reflections or whatever.

i go to school in a ghetto of sorts. not a ghetto, really. not in the traditional sense. it's just a notoriously shitty part of town. it's the reason i chose the school, actually. very culturally diverse, and it's co-ed. most of the guys are gay, mind you. but they contribute a teesny bit of mannishness.

a few days ago, we were having a discussion about some of the clients who come in. it's no secret that, very often, black women are very VERY picky about their hair. they want it just so, and they are none too shy to tell you it sucks. a few of the women who come in request that their hair be done by a black student. the nice thing is that the instructors tell them to like who they get or go the hell down the street. but it's still hard when you (by you i mean ME) walk up to get a client, and you get that "look." like, "this crazy white girl with tattoos is gonna do MY hair? helllllll no." anyone of any race can fuck up hair. and my cornrows are getting pretty fucking good, so there's that..

at any rate, we were talking about people requesting certain races, and an instructor's comment was, "how bout if someone comes in and requests a white student do their hair? what are we gonna do then?" this, of course, because my school isn't exactly brimming with white girls. so, it was a rhetorical question, i think. what would we do? and everybody looks at me, and an instructor says, "give 'em to sharon."

once the laughter died down, and someone mentioned how i was the "whitest black girl in school" or the "blackest white girl," whatever suits you. i turned to the girls around me, and was like, "what the hell? why do i get singled out? what about the other white chicks?" they all looked at me like i was stupid, and said, "their ain't any other white girls. you're it."

i sat for a moment and tried to think. i knew there were some white girls, right? i looked around, and i realized that most of the girls i subconsciously thought were white were actually light skinned latino hotties. i have been there for 14 months, how did i not know that? i'm the only one? what the hell does that mean?

after further consideration, i decided that it doesn't mean anything. except maybe that i'm lucky that i have gotten to be friends with a hella cool group of people that are nothing at all like me, which i love (not to mention honing my street spanish and ebonics.) i mean, they harass me when i try to rap along with the radio. but they also ask me to sing, and that's the nicest compliment anyone could give me.

enjoy your weekend. i'm gonna..

a conversation i actually had:

me: "hey, do you remember that really awesome candy that we had as kids? the astro pop? it was a really long, skinny cone-shape sucker, all red and yellow and green?"

d.g.: "yeah, totally."

me: "well they're making them again, and they're all politically correct. the pointy end goes into the stick. it SUCKS! cause, you know how you used to suck on 'em for a long time and see how sharp you could get the end without it breaking off?"

d.g.: "hell yes! i was the king of that. shit, i used to stab other kids out on the playground. we called it the 'sugar shank.'"

the long ride home

due to renovations at my school (they are updating the equipment from 1950's to 1980's. twenty dollars says they leave the glass with the bullet holes in the front window) i am taking class at an alternate location for the next few weeks. we don't get clients, and we have to sit and behave each night. but the suckiest part is WHERE this place is. my school is hell and gone from my house as it is, and this place is hell and gone from my school.

anyway, on the long ride home tonight, i was channel searching. most of you know me well enough to know the things that i hate: bananas, wicker, nuts in cookies, stepping on a wet floor in socks, christmas, phil collins.. there's a list, but those close to me are aware of the important ones.

i stopped on a local rock station where i heard disturbed (i think) belting out their version of "land of confusion." at that moment, i wished really, really, super hard that is was actually the genesis version. alas, i was wrong.

after identifying it, trying to make it through a verse and chorus, i quickly hit the "forward seek" button on the radio. the next station happened to be playing "friends in low places" which sadly was a sweet, sweet relief.

most of the time, i can't tell any of that shit apart. nickleback, sevendust, staind, godsmack - all that shit sounds the same to me. which reminds me of a discussion i was having with a friend one night.

welcome to the first installment of..

a conversation i actually had:

mf: "hey sharon, what's your favorite three doors down song?"

me: "uh.."

mf: "mine's (fill in the blank)."

me: "hmmm.i suppose my favorite three doors down song would have to be.. uh, blurry by puddle of mudd."


(until further notice, i will be concluding all subsequent blogs with these conversations. disclaimer: any conversation i had or will have with any of you is fair game, regardless of the amount of alcohol you ingested, your emotional state at the time, or your genuine hope that i wouldn't tell anyone.)


nighty nightski..i'm off to bath and wine.

aislinn's blog

my lovely friend aislinn was just over, and she suggested that i create a blog on her behalf. i would normally come up with something super-brilliant and funny, but aislinn, i can't really concentrate between the arrested development reruns and the red wine. actually, we're out of wine and onto something else. at any rate, i can't perform to your ultimate design.

i will, however, remind all the women out there that read this something valuable i learned recently:

never, EVER, under any circumstances, tell a man with whom you have a platonic relationship that you had a sex dream about them. while you innocently try to dream interpret and take it as a sign that your friendship is solid, they will take it as your latent desire to sleep with them being unearthed and taking over your body and mind. and you won't ever hear the end of it. as for most of my life lessons, i learned this the hard way. and, from now on, "do you want another piece of cake?" means "i want you now." and "i have to pee" means "i want you now. bad."

aislinn? i love that you came to visit. and i'm sorry i couldn't do you more justice tonight. i also apologize if you have to field any more of the aforementioned sex dream discussion. i think if you stop responding to them, they'll eventually go away.

"it appears as though Average Joe's Gym is forfeiting the match."

"that's a bold strategy, cotton. let's see if it pays off for 'em."

have a rad week. WORD.

the worst thing

sunny and i patronized the ever-popular Second Wind bar this evening (the *coughonlybarinourneighborhoodcough*. the bands are pretty much awful, as is the clientele. anyway, driving home we were waxing nostalgic about crappy 90's music -- and that's when i realized it:

all three hanson boys are married. and i am not.

i haven't decided my method of suicide, but i'm taking suggestions.

god love the south

i sat at work today trying to fight off a panic attack. it felt like the work just kept on coming, all the while the two guys in my office were arguing politics.

fortunately, i found my new happy place. i spent most of the day calling customers, most of whom are dealing with heavy equipment or are in martial arts. oh, and they were spread as far east as florida through texas to the west. you know what i truly love about southern boys? (don't wait for the hillbilly jokes. there aren't any..) in a 10 minute phone conversation, i get "yes ma'am"ed and "thank you ma'am"ed at least 7 times. it makes my ears happy, unlike those of us who use the word "ma'am" in the west -- to keep our composure during conversations with strangers we want to strangle.