that rosebud girl

people are dumb.

(if you can’t read it, it says “bicth.”)

i can’t make this crap up.

jane sent me that picture. apparently, some idiot punk decided he was going to spray a little graffiti on the fence at her brother’s trailer park in way, way, way norcal. and this is what he came up with. it actually said “leon is a bicth” but there wasn’t a good picture of the whole thing.

seriously, if you’re going to swear, at least spell correctly.

idiots.

holy freaking crap!

so after the slugs got their butts kicked, we go to this pizza joint called luigi’s to have some pizza and beers.

i was one of the first people at the place, and after coming out of the restroom, i went back to the front of the pizzeria to wait for everyone else. as i’m standing around, someone starts calling my name. i turn around to see who it is …

… and it’s young min lee, this girl i went to high school with. i haven’t seen her in, oh, almost 10 years.

geez.

how random is this? i am 4,000 miles away from home, in a pizza joint in sacramento … and i see someone i haven’t seen in ages.

i recognized her right off the bat, but for a second i was paranoid that i was wrong. but i guess i wasn’t.

i ask her what she’s doing in sacramento — it’s sacramento, for god’s sakes — and she says she works a block away from luigi’s.

good grief.

completely random. but it was cool. i gave her my numbers and email and stuff and told her we should have lunch sometime. of course, idiot that i am, i didn’t get her info. oh well. she has my email.

i don’t know what it is about sacramento, but apparently the probability that i will run into some random person i haven’t seen in about forever is very high. i’ve already seen someone from college (ying le) that i haven’t seen in five years at the death cab for cutie/franz ferdinand concert back in march.

weird.

alarm woe.

stupid fire alarms.

we had an alarm go off at work tonight, somewhere around 11 p.m. … and it sucked … don’t people know that alarms aren’t supposed to go off near deadline?

the alarm here is the most annoying piece of crap on earth. they made everyone in the building leave and stand out on the sidewalk and bullshit around for 15 minutes. nothing happened. a fire truck even came with sirens blaring, and three firemen dressed in full regalia went into the building. but there was no fire, as far as we could tell.

jerks.

life in the hood …

this is verbatim from edgar’s myspace blog. i had to repost it because i thought it was the funniest damn thing. it happened to him on sunday.

only in compton will this kind of crap happen. anyway …

——– edgar’s crazy ass story begins here ————-

so I’m half asleep watching the Laker game when all of a sudden I hear the front door slam. I didn’t think any thing of it until I heard somebody mumbling. I get up from the couch and there was this bum standing at the door…actually he was some dirty drunk. He kept mumbling and I told him to get the fuck out of the house. I yelled out, “Pete, there’s some dude in our house.” I go and start pushing the drunk out. I started hitting him with the door. Just as I was doing that my roommate Pete ran from the bathroom with his arm cocked back ready to punch a Ninja’s lights out. The dude kept mumbling so I pushed him outside. Pete then got all hyper and shit and kept asking me if he should go run after the guy to punch him out…LIGHTS OUT! I told him “No”, but that fool wanted to beat the shit of him. I actually considered because it would be cool to say I beat some fool down in the CPT, but I went against it. The funny part is I think Pete was taking a shit, so that fool jumped off the toilet seat ready to kick some ass.

That some funny stuff…because Pete had to make a decision while on the toilet…”Should I finish taking this shit or should I get off the toilet to kick some ass?” He actually had to think of the pros and cons. BLAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Only in the CPT does this type of shit happen.

Moral of the story: Lock your doors if you live in the CPT.

By the way…I think it was my roommate who left the door open after we came back from Tam’s. I should dropkick that fool in the chest or apply a camelclutch that fool till I break his back.

——————- end of crazy ass story ———————

my only question is, wouldn’t you already lock your doors in the CPT? i don’t know. maybe that’s just me.

RobMo.

it happened on saturday. and what a crazy time it was.

admittedly, it was a trip to have six of the original magnificent seven in one room. i mean, i’d seen mark and maureen off and on, but i hadn’t seen jara or billy since i left school. and i only saw joe recently because he’s living at maureen and rob’s. but that was cool. it was nice to see all those folks again, and of course i wondered, why the hell didn’t see get in touch with those people sooner?

also, one fact is crystal clear after this weekend:

theatre folk are wicked nuts. i love them.

the bridal party was a riot. i met a lot of really cool people. i also realize i should go to weddings with more gay people because they are a blast (and guaranteed dance partners). and fantastic pseudo-dates.

and those heintzes can really throw a party.

the ceremony was lovely (it had an earth day theme and was pretty creative) and it didn’t rain on us, though it was really cloudy. and mo’s dress was absolutely stunning.

it was also quite a boozy affair — the joys of having an open bar — and when you consider that theatre folk are also quite notorious for being borderline alcoholics, well, that made for some interesting times.

in all, a good time was had by all, and i don’t think i will ever go to another wedding where all the groomsmen will wear red-and-black checkered vans. (that’s a homage to rob and his love for vans and disdain for all things formal.) i, on the other hand, could not get away with wearing my nike slippers. *sigh* heels suck.

pictures later because man, there are some priceless ones.

sucks!

i paid $3.17 a gallon at a gas station near glendale today. wtf????

stupid gas.

at least i’m in pasadena now …

i’m just the village idiot …

so i decide to get my hair cut today. it had been something like a year or so (probably before the wedding, even) since i got a haircut. i was quite overdue.

anyway, this girl, nikki, who is the receptionist at the dance studio, is a hairstylist. she attends a beauty college up in roseville, so i decide to make an appointment with her for my haircut.

nikki does an awesome job. i didn’t really lop too much off, but enough for me to feel like i’ve gotten a haircut and get my stupid hair mostly out of the way. sweet.

however, when she’s done, i realize i have no cash on me. zero. the lady at the front counter had made me pay for my haircut (a mere $7, by the way) upfront. i used a debit card. i’m not used to that format, because everywhere else i’ve gotten my hair cut, they make you pay after the haircut and you can add your tip on your credit/debit/plastic card. but they didn’t do that here. so nikki is done, she’s cleaning up, and i’m feeling a little awkward. so i just leave.

i felt absolutely embarrassed and terrible when i went home. i mean, she did a great job, and i like nikki and all. she’s really cool. and here i am, totally feeling rude because i didn’t even have a stupid dollar on my person.

anyway, i decide that i’m going to drive to the studio — it’s thursday, and i normally have class, but because of work, i can’t go to class. but i drive to the studio, write nikki a note (she wasn’t there yet), profusely apologize and proceed to leave her a $3 tip. so i hope she got it. i will probably see her when i go to class next week. but i hope she didn’t think i was totally being rude. i just felt worse because it was someone i actually knew. i guess i’m paranoid like that sometimes. geesh.

so that was my idiot episode for the day.

tomorrow, i go down to la for the run-up to maureen’s wedding. woohoo! at least i’ll have nice hair …

ugh.

my back … effing … hurts … ow …

you never realize how useful your back is until it hurts. i think i’ve said that before. whatever.

i did get to play some racquetball again today with ed … i’m really getting used to this whole running-into-the-wall thing. seriously, though, it’s tons of fun. and a real workout. i also think my right arm is larger than the left one because of all the racket swinging. and because ed and i hit the batting cages yesterday.

(for the record, i actually managed to hit a few balls. woohoo! i am not blind! nor did i foul any into the net and have them come straight down on my head. ah, the small victories in life.)

obviously, i am typing just to type. i blinked and it was suddenly 7 p.m. already at work. dammit.

m’s wedding is in about one week. holy crap! have i mentioned that i am completely unprepared for it?

however, she’s going to have a kickass rehearsal party gig that includes a game of ultimate frisbee at the effing rose bowl! that’s going to be wicked sweet.

okay, back to being semi-productive … this chair is making my back hurt.

r.i.p. dave …

here is dave’s obit, from the news journal. very well done.

News Journal editor Dave Hale, ‘a classic newspaperman,’ dies

i didn’t realize he was only 56. that’s like, three years older than my dad. damn.

he will be greatly missed. every time i see syracuse on tv, i will inevitably think of him cheering them on and wearing his ratty old syracuse hoodie to work.

eh?

anonymosity: the hatred of someone you don’t know.(i love people’s unintentional misspellings sometimes.)

?Ǭ†