Sunday, November 30, 2008

house arrest

i have a few things to talk about, but not tonight. i'm weary, tired, sad, thoughtful. i enjoyed my time away, but i'm not ready to go home. i don't want to stay here either. i don't know what the alternative is.

i think it's fitting to follow up my 'hatred for the holidays' sentiment with a video.

the first night i was at my parents' house, i woke up hearing something that sounded oddly like the ice cream man - at 2 in the morning. it was not the ice cream man.

it was my neighbors xmas display. why i can hear it in my bedroom, on the second floor, on the complete opposite side of the house is infinitely puzzling. i'm guessing so that people driving by can hear it over their stereo, motor and closed car windows.

moreover, i think there is some city ordinance against just about everything they have done. the only thing they don't have is a fucking nativity scene, which i assume will go up eventually, since it's not even december yet.

these people didn't make me hate christmas. but they sure aren't helping (please make sure your volume is on for full, almost-like-you're-there effect):

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

thanksgiving - the most unholiday holiday

i hate this time of year. if i had a dollar for every time i bitched in a blog about how the holidays suck, i'd have an extra five spot. but thanksgiving, though it starts off the holiday season, is the least holiday holiday.

and by that, i mean the most tolerable.

new year's is annoying for too many reasons to list in this post, valentine's day is a holiday ever-hated by me, and xmas is the worst. i hate ornaments, xmas songs, christmasy smells - my hell is walking through a craft store in december.

i think much of it is because i had a roommate who fancied herself martha stewart, back when martha barely had a magazine out. my roommate would start all these ultra crafty christmas ideas and then never finish them or clean them up until about april. it was like a xmas big lots puked in our living room.

i disliked christmas before then, but i can't recall when it began or why. at this point, the commercialism surrounding that holiday is wretched, and i get freaked out going out in public during the end of the year.

mostly, i just hate how grouchy people are. the most mean-spirited bastards come out near christmas, and they spew their hate all over everything. and these are the people who hang lights and claim to love christmas!

if all christmas was had me and a bunch of family or friends sitting around enjoying ourselves, i would be in - hook, line, sinker.

which is i guess why i like thanksgiving. it is a xmas dress-rehearsal, with food and family, and doesn't involve trees, or shopping, or garland.

my mom bought me a ticket home this year, and i wish i could say that i was vacationing free spirited. going anywhere since the layoff sort of stresses me out, like i should be home looking harder for work. so i hate to admit that i won't be as free mentally to celebrate as i could. but by jesus, i am going to try.

the departure time is creeping ever-closer, and i could tell if only by the frequency of my mom's phone calls. i've talked to her probably three times today. once was to find out what i would like to eat for dinner wednesday night, the second was to let me know she washed all my sheets, and both dogs, and found a few toys from my childhood that i should take home. i don't even remember why the third call happened, but i doubt that's the last one. oh, and during one of the calls, she told me that she picked me up a box of lo carb rockstar - yay mom!

if nothing else, i will come home fat. between her turkey and stuffing, my wednesday night crab leg dinner, cocktails and desserts at the neighbors, and the night out for sushi that my dad will insist on, i'm storing up for hibernation. oh, and the best thing about xmas dinner? the one thing my sister and i fight over (or used to, at least) there not being enough of? rice and gravy.

and yes, those go together. nobody i ever knew had gravy with their rice. it's usually mashed potatoes, from what i hear. i think it's a southern thing. but rice and gravy is so effing good, i can hardly wait. and, just for the record, if you make mashies right, no gravy needed.

i have some social events in the works as well, which reminds me of how few friends i have in san diego. between the extra weight and the social interaction, i'm going into mental overload. and yes, rita, i am up for whatever you want to do. just as long as we don't go to the starlight again. and if we DO, i am much older and wiser and won't get that drunk ever again. promise.

i'm sure a mid-holiday blog will be in order, as my family finally upgraded recently from dialup, to cable DSL, to wireless (which stupefies me - my mom just barely upgraded her cell from from a motorola startac.) so my computer will go with me, and send out some turkey day greetings. and, sadly, some resumes as well.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

time travel

i visited an army/navy surplus store in a part of town that nobody would ever drive to. unless, of course, it was the only place in town that had something you were desperately searching for, or if you lived there. there's nothing wrong with being there, it just - doesn't have much.

or so i thought, until i patronized one of san diego's only surplus stores. and i'm wishing there were some other reason to take me to that side of town, so i could find more excuses to meander amongst their goods.

in the town i grew up in, there was a really neat, dark, dirty, chaotic army surplus store on the north part of town called Jax. my dad would go there for fishing or hunting supplies, and i would always beg to go to see what neat things i could find buried in boxes under layers of dust that nobody had laid eyes on for decades. i loved previously owned military clothing, that had a mysterious life before i laid my hands on it, the only evidence of which (aside from the obvious wear) was a last name, rank, or number scrawled on the inside tag. i loved imagining the person who owned it and what they must have done, where they might have gone or what they saw while they were there, or if they were even still alive. in fact, many times you could buy any of these items new - but they never had as much personality as the used stuff. it wasn't soft, worn in, loved (or hated, i suppose).

over the last three decades, i'm sorry to say that Jax, while still an amazing store in its own way, doesn't resemble what it used to be. it's now a bright, inviting, yuppie catering, overpriced, mountain gear store, chocked to the brim with hundred dollar north face backpacks and snowboarding jackets into the $400 range. they have odd flavored trail mix and gourmet coffee beans. they may even have an espresso cart to satiate the caffeine deprived shoppers.

but if you look hard enough, way back in the rear of the store, you can find remnants of what the store used to look like. this is the area of the store where you won't find young, keen-clad moms with their babies in hip little backpacks. in fact, you will rarely find employees. but back there lay military issue laundry bags and canteens, snow camo and stuff sacks, worn out fatigues and nearly mangled combat boots. and its worth college avenue traffic and the 15 minute drive to get there, even if it is quarantined into a small, rarely populated room at the back of the store.

the place i went to today was everything Jax used to be, but about 100 times larger, and even less apologetic. so much gear was in that store that much of it was crammed together uncomfortably, and some things were impossible to reach. medals of every shape and size adorned the walls, and treasures ranging from dried pumpkin fish bait to those metal utensils that clipped together neatly, spoon over fork over knife.

but the true magic of the store laid in the never-ending basement. a giant, dark warehouse of clothes, mystery boxes, metal cases, netting, nylon rope, wool blankets of every shape and size, and many more items that i couldn't identify. it was awesome.

nobody worked in the basement, and in the two hours i was there playing, trying things on, investigating, i only saw two other people. and they both quickly scanned a few racks, and shortly thereafter sought the bright, safe retail space upstairs.

steel shelves a block long and 15 feet high stretched the length of the basement, six deep and both sides crammed with clothing, two items high. they were overturned monoliths of fabric and crossbracing. suits, jackets, and pants were packed so tightly that they could not be shifted sideways, only pulled off their hangers and down, never to fit back alongside their military issued counterparts. and it was comforting somehow, to see rows of exact duplicates, differing only in condition of wear, size, and name etched inside.

among the items were black navy issue wool peacoats. at a guess, i'd say there were close to 1,000, peacoats alone. multiply that by the fatigues, dress uniforms, and branches of the us military, and you end up with more clothes than you could hang in a lifetime. i was awed at the magnitude of their stock. it was overwhelming.

i was in search of a coat for my upcoming trip home. after 3 years in california, i don't have any cold weather clothes left. i figured i would canvas the surplus circuit before opting for a too-expensive columbia jacket from REI, as my budget is a little tight. i considered the peacoat route, as i had once owned a coast guard coat which i bought for 10 bucks at a salvation army. though it's arms were much too short, it kept me warmer than anything EMS carries on their shelves at the height of ski season.

after rummaging, climbing, unmounting from hangers, replacing, and re-rummaging, trying on jackets of every color, shape, size and fabric, i found a blue, canvas parka with a fuzzy removable lining. it donned buttoned straps on the shoulders and small flags on each arm. every button, snap, and buckle was accounted for - a rarity after years of hard wear and tear.

it was too big on me, so i set it aside and searched for more. the one i found appeared to have been separated from the rest. but after an hour of exasperated scouring, i gave up and hoofed back up the concrete stairs into the light of the store, jacket in hand.

"um, excuse me. this doesn't have a tag on it, and i couldn't find where the rest are."

the somewhat ambivalent clerk explained that it was most likely the only one. it was an east german coat, and they didn't really see much of them anymore.

i explained to him that was hardly possible, since they had at least 300 of anything down there. but he remained firm, assuring me that the one i found was most likely the only existing one they had.

despite it being too large, i couldn't ignore the fact that in a packed dungeon full of decades-old forgotten items, i managed to find the only coat of its kind. a true needle in a haystack. how do you leave that behind?

it's not pretty by any stretch. and i don't know much about it, aside from that if it kept some guy in east germany warm, it would certainly carry me through any conditions colorado has to dole out this xmas. if it could only get me to DIA and back..

home security

check out my new aftermarket, passive home security device:

Monday, November 17, 2008

eye candy

a few hot women for your monday.





Saturday, November 15, 2008


people who know you have a certain power. the ones who know things about you that you would rather erase. those people make a dent in your armor. regardless of how close you remain, or despite what has transpired in your lives, they still have the power to get to a part of you, for good or for bad.

they are the kind of people that ask innocent questions and aren't dumbfounded when your answer doesn't have anything to do with what they asked. and they sit silently anyway, watching whatever is inside you let loose its grip while hot, sticky tears stream down your cheeks and you forget what sentence you started.

at it's then that self awareness becomes pointless. as pointless as anything else. and everything that seemed important ten minutes before dissolves out of frame. you just sit, conscious only of your posture and that it's too late to wipe tears away, because you don't have much to hide from them anyway.

things are supposed to get easier with time. but time often does little more than give you new things to think and worry about. it just makes the older stuff seem tired - less relevant.

sleep is a great neutrality, however. gives the brain and the heart time to level the playing field before the next round of play. which is why i will take two helpings tonight, please and thank you.

Friday, November 14, 2008

the benadryl rant

why have i never rambled on benadryl before now? brilliant idea. fucking diabolical.

"i was allergic when i wrote this, forgive me if.." well, you know.

i can't stand one more commercial about infants that can miraculously read through some fantastic breakthrough method that costs three easy payments. great, your kid is a genius. nobody cares but you. keep it the fuck away from me and stop it from crying in target.

debra messing is not hot. in fact, she's a man. how is it that she always has this perfect onscreen romance, and yet she probably has a cock? why is she so lucky? i don't have a penis. and my hair is naturally red. oh, and i can act. i have a degree that says so.

and fuck, all the goddamn hanson boys are married now. yet i remain single. and i ran into a guy the other day who, after after having chatted me up while i had a beer at my neighborhood sushi bar said, "if i would have thought you were straight, i would have asked you out." so i'm an obvious lesbian now? how do i correct that? the attitude ain't going anywhere, nor are the tattoos. my hair can only grow so fast, and i'm sorry i live in the gay 'hood. and hey, guy? if i thought you were straight, i would laugh and point about how you'll never know the joy of sleeping with someone half as hot as i am.

NOBODY CARES what new tattoos angelina jolie has and what they mean. NOBODY CARES about posh's new haircut or who got ousted on dancing with the stars. and NOBODY CARES who is on the OC, or the HILLS, or who will be paris' new BFF. well, wait - somebody cares. but i will punch anyone i know who falls into that category.

speaking of vacant trash, has anyone actually watched the pick up artist on mtv? my life is pathetic and rotten at times, but i don't need some sleazy jackass with long hair who wears a velour tophat to tell me so through an earpiece. that show is proof that the end is near.

and now, for the upside.. wait, do i have one?

i spent some time with a boy who lives in a frostier clime recently. he gave me a cd that was in his freezer (still not sure why). but on my journey north to my first post-layoff interview today, i put it in my cd player and track one made me cry. not because of him, or because of it, but just because. well maybe it was due to both. or neither. or everything in my life altogether right now. and i guess if you're having one of those moments, i say pull kings of leon out of your freezer, insert into cd player and drive somewhere..

i want my mac back. and i want an iphone. i mean, i don't even want a pony for christ's sake. really. i just want a job, or at least to know that money will come at some point before i get evicted.

better, i want to know that things will be okay.

to be fair, the benadryl is helping there..

Saturday, November 1, 2008

if you could touch her at all

Funny a woman can come on so wild and free
Yet insist I don't watch her undress or watch her watch me
And stand by my bed and shiver as if she were cold
Just to lie down beside me and touch me as if I were gold

One night of love can't make up for six nights alone
But I'd rather have one than none Lord cause I'm flesh and bone
And sometimes it seems that she ain't worth the trouble at all
But she could be worth the world if somehow you can touch her at all

Right or wrong a woman can own any man
She can take him inside her and hold his soul in her hand
Then leave him as weak and weary as a newborn child
Fighting to get his first breath and open his eyes

One night of love can't make up for six nights alone
But I'd rather have one than none Lord cause I'm flesh and bone
And sometimes it seems that she ain't worth the trouble at all
But she could be worth the world if somehow you could touch her at all