My Favorite Year

My senior year of college was one of the best.

Why?

1. Last year of school
2. Living with the most kick-ass roomate EVER
3. The Palamino Suede paint in my room - as weel as the sweet zen style that carried throughout.
4. A gorgeous man that somehow stole my heart immediately - was hilarious, thotful, a great friend and actually made time for me - a nice upper, and definately something to be excited about after years of being treated like 3rd, 4th, 60th, 137th wheel...
5. Belly dancing/Yoga for credits
6. Holiday.

The list goes on and on, but most notably, the events that surrounded my apartment numbered 212 (the house of cabnet/chicken). I'd never commanded much attention from men - but I think something to do with #4 brought me out of the woodwork and got a number of men in my complex to pay a little attention.

All I can say is that when it rains, it pours:

I had recently obtained a cell phone the summer before my senior year. ALL summer long, i recieved random phone calls from guys looking for a Sam. I didn't sign up for a phone plan... i signed up for a dating service where I had to do NO WORK what-so-ever. My new number was flooding in phone calls from men leaving bizarre messages like,

"Yo, Sam... Did you get a girlfriend? Where are you? Ive been in the hospital. Hope you're doing well!"

I called back once and found out some guy named Sam used to have my phone number. I wrote it off and started tiring of all of the phone calls not for me after a few months...

When I got a puppy the following September (Ella Bella Fiztgerald), Suz and I used to leave the door open and let her run around at her leisure because she was a sweet-ass dog, and any dog of mine had to be independent like that. Plus, I had my name and number on her tag just in case she got lost...

One of these times, I get a call from the next door neighbor.

"Hi, is this Sam? Um... I have..."
"My Dog?," I say, finishing his sentence.

I waslk out the door onto our porch to see an extremely attractive guy with a big smile peering out the door of the apartment just adjacent to Suzanne's bedroom wall.

"Hey! I'm Sam."
"Yeah...me, too," he replies back.

I jokingly take a jab and ask if he used to have the phone number he just dialed to reach me.

"Yeah! I thot that number looked familiar."

This was the very SAME sam that used to have my phone number. I was convinced for a solid week that I was supposed to date him because that was too bizarre for real life...

Purusuant #1 was some dude that lived across the street from me. I'm prety sure his name was Chris.

He had yelled down at me from his porch a few times while I was parking.
I'd say hello - hoped he was well, blah blah blah, then ran home.

One morning, when i came out to my car, I had a note on my windsheild that said something like, 'This is Chris from Apartment ### and I'd love to cook you dinner sometime!"

Oooooh, right. Did I forget to mention he was a cuisine chef?
I thot for a minute... free food? Im down...

I left him a response on the back of his note that told him that would be wonderful - left him my number and told him to call me sometime -- then jammed the note into his doorway and snuck off to class.

The following Sunday, I got a phone call that Chris was making some extravagant meatloaf thing.. (suz can attest to this one). The thing about me (as I've already discussed) is that I"m good at grabbing attention - horrible at holding it.

So when I got on the phone with him, I made up some excuse that I was working on a realy huge graphic design project all day (I was) and couldn't make it over for dinner.

"That's Ok! I'll just bring it over to you!"

Awwwwesome. Free food and I don't even have to go on the date! Perfect!

So I was expecting to answer the door (really)... get some food... make some small talk - and get back to work.

So i listened for a knock.

Instead, I get a second phone call 10 minutes later.

"Hey! It's me (Chris). I left the food on your front porch! Enjoy!"

Hmmmmmk.

I went out to the porch and picked up a styraphome container and opened it as I slowly shut our front door. Inside was a heaping serving of Meatloaf. It was awesome. He's a great chef. The thought that I could be consuming poisoned goods crossed my mind for about a minute, and then I got hungry and scarfed half of it down in about 10 minutes.

I left him a note on his porch a few days later and ... never heard from him again. Odd...

Now, below me in apartment 112, lived two guys and a girl. I had seen one of them a few times - made polite chit chat - and said, "We're upstairs if you ever want to come say hi - sweet!"

On Halloween, I ventured to Downtown Flag for the Rocky Horror picture show because my bff at the time was going to check out some chic that was adamantly pursuing his ass.



Now... I don't like Rocky Horror. I never have, never will.
I went purely for moral support - and to laugh at my friend when he got pulled up on stage to dance (he hates dancing).

Afterward, we waited around to say "great job" to his bed buddy and "Rocky (a.k.a. the fine chocolate bear with ripped abs and smooth skin) comes up in nothing but his shiny gold Speedo and gives me a GIANT bear hug.

I can't tell you how uncomfortable I felt at that very moment...

"Hey! IT's Henry! I live below you!"

My stance eased up considerably.
"Oooooh! Hi! I didn't recognize you without your glasses and ya know.. you're wearing a speedo. Great Job!"

The next day I got another note on my doorstep. -

"Hey Girl - you's a fine woman. Come have a beer with me Sometime. - Hank"

Hank. Hmm.. do I know a Hank? I know no Hank.

I blew it off... only to find out after the fact that Hank = Henry and Henry = Hank and if you introduce yourself as one, don't write me a note signed from the other. Utterly confusing.

**********************************************************************

I'm not sure if Suz was my lucky charm (move here, please), Flagstaff, or the Number 4 (Apartment 2 + 1 + 1) - but I"m really crossing m y fingers for the latter, because I just moved into Apartment #4 with an address of Christmas - and Lord knows I need me a good man after the last few years...

2388 Photos

Stop-Motion... Pretty impressive:

Killer Fan (?)

I took this from the good ol' hdtb and passing it along to get your thots...mine are in bold italics below...

And i totally can see some bad B-Movie developed from this... :-) James Gunn.. maybe? doo it.

Fan Death(dun dun dunnnnnnnnn!)



Fan death is an urban legend that originated in South Korea, but has since spread to other countries in the Far East. The belief is that an electric fan, if left running overnight in a closed room, can result in the death (by suffocation, poisoning, or hypthermis) of those inside.

This belief also extends to air conditioners and the fans in cars.

When the air conditioner or fan is on in a car, some people are apt to leave their car windows open a crach to avoid "fan death. (dun dun dunnnnnnn!)" Fans manufactured and sold in korea are equipped with a timer switch that turns them off after a set number of minutes, which users are frequently urged to set when going to sleep with a fan on.

Beliefs

The belief in the myth of fan-death (dun dunn!) often offers several explanations for the precise mechanism by which the fan kills. Electric fans sold in Korea are equipped with a "timer knob" switch, which turns them off after a set number of minutes: apparenty a "life-saving" function, particularly essential for bed time use.**

However, as explained below, these beliefs do not stand up to logical and scientific scrutiny.

Examples of possible justifications or belief in fan death are as flls:

1. That an electric fan creates a vortex, which sucks the oxygen from the enclosed and sealed room and creates a partial vacuum inside. In reality, the air pressure at any point in the room vaires less than it does during a storm.

2. That the fan uses up the oxygen in the room and creates fatal levels of carbon dioxide. There is no actual conversion of ocygen to carbon dioxide happening; unlike a candle, the electric motor in a fan does NOT alter the chimcal composition of the air (apart from creating some ozone if the motor uses brushes, and outgassing from the materials).

3. That if the fan is put directly in front of the face of the sleeping person, it will suck all the air away, preventing one from breathing. However, as can be easily verified, it is possible to breath with one's face in front of a running fan (La-la-la-la-la-luuuuuuuke. I ammmmm your faaaaaaatherrrrrrr).

4. The fanblades chop up air particles (i.e. oxygen molecules) so that the air is no longer breathable, thus resulting in suffocation. If this were true, regular fans could be used to create chemical reactions. However, air ionisers do turn a very small amount of oxygen into unstable ozone.

5. That fans cause hypothermia (a.k.a. blue disease). As the metabolism slows down at night, one becomes more sensitive to temperature and thus supposedly more prone to hypothermia. If the fan is left on all night in a sealed and enclosed room (are people duct-taping their vents/door slits, window???), believers in fan death suppose that it will lower the temperature of the room to the point that it can cause hypothermia. Empirical measurements will show, however, that the temperature in the room does not fall, at least not due to the fan; if at all, it should rise slightly because of friction nd the heat output of the fan motor ( Why do we run fans if it raises the temperature?????), but even this is generall not significant.

Fans actually make one cooler by increasion the convection around a person's body so that heat flows from them to the air more easily, and by the latent heat of vapourisation as perspiration evaporates from the body. Furthermore, hypothermia occurs only when the body's core tmperature drops below normal, and will not generally be caused simply by cooling of the skin or decreas in the body's suface temperature.

6. Often, believers claim that a compbination of these facotrs is responsible. For example, it might be claimed that the decrease in oxygen and increase in carbon dioxide, in conjunction with some degree of hypothermia could prove fatal to a sleeping person (Man, those plant-loving, feng-shui fountain lovers are doomed!).

Media Coverage:here.

The Published Professional Opinionhere.

** I guess that little knob does wonders for securing the fear of numerous irrational people overseas...

Something to make you Laugh on a Humpday

Upon waking this morning, my first thots were, "Whatever happened to Keanu Reeves?" I mean, really... you have Bill and Ted, that lawyer movie and um... what was the last one? The Lakehouse. Other than that - he's dropped off the earth. I wonder how DogStar is going...

And I thot - man, i could write a whole blog about how he's a terrible actor and he wouldn't be anywhere if it weren't for his expressive eyebrows (credit: Oakley), but then my attention turned to Ross the Intern from Leno because he does make me laugh really hard - one of my cousin's had a video up with Steve Corwin and I'm sitting here belly laughing and thinking maybe all of you shoujld do the same - so here's just a few short clips. of course you can grab more at you tube.

(Seriously... I want this job):

with Steve Corwin:


At the Golden Globes:


With Christina Aguillera:



Jay answers how to swing a job just like Ross:


I need to get the ball rolling on this...

The really tall horse.

I've been on my high horse lately.
Why?

Well, i can't really afford not to be anymore, now can I?

After years of tolerating a more than average lifestyle, I've been severing ties left and right as of late because that thread just got worn too thin and i don't really feel like hanging off the side of a cliff anymore waiting for someone to live up to normal human expectations.

That's the high horse speaking. And you know what? I dont fucking care - because anyone who's been on it knows how it feels.

I just got off the phone with my bff and mentioned my recent streak of bad-friendship masheti slashing.

"You know, I have to wonder if it's that thing of, 'oh, if i don't like something about that person, i'll just try to change it.' Guys don't do that. I just took the good and left the bad...I only changed when I wanted to."

I know the numerous times i said throughout college, "Why would you ever try to change someone you were with? If a man tried to do that to me, i'd kick his fucking ass."

But truth be told, when you're in the relationship, you don't look at it in this context. Items in this category include: biting toenails; not being open to seafood; sleeping with only socks and a t-shirt on (gross).

Not:
the bad temper? (i'll approach this topic differently next time).
the lieing to 80 people behind your back while sweet-talking to your face (he lies to everyone else - but he's truthful to me).
He cheated on you (it was just a drunken' slip).
He trashed your house - twice (he was just really mad. Everyone looses their shit time to time).
He hit you (you must have really pissed him off).

All of those little excuses in brackets are "i can change him" comments and complete bullshit. I've had girlfriends before who operated strictly on this moral - but i never saw it from their point of view until OTR just said the above to me... and now (thanks to my high horse), i'm pretty sure im okay not giving anyone 3rd,4th,5th chances for extremely sucking it up in my life.

I can't believe it took that long to realize - i mean - it's been a struggle lately just to keep sane - but with this refreshing new point of view, i bid a warm thank you to all of you people that are...no, were in my life that suck giant ass face and helped me come to this realization now instead of when i'm 35. or 40.

Thanks to you, I no longer have to waste my time!

FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC! :-)

No... Freaking WAY!

This is probably a few weeks old, but:

The NY Post have identified Britney's hunky tennis partner in these exclusive X17 pix from March 15 in which Brit scored with another patient during a match on the Promises rehab facility courts.

It's singer/musician Howie Day of "Collide" fame! And here's the deal, it wasn't actually the Post that ID'd him, it was Day's own publicist who wrote in to the paper to tell them it was his client on the courts with Britney!

Think there's any chance of these two 'colliding' outside of rehab?

For pictures, go here.

A blast from the past

Because I'm working particularly hard on "out of sight, out of mind" right now...



April 18, 2005
Something I'd really like cleared up...

Who was the guy that claimed, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder?'.
Cause i'd really like to meet that bitch.

I tried to look 'him' up, and it was only stated as 'An American Proverb.'

What i really think it means: some Deuchebag is ashamed for saying something so bitch-ass retarded that they didn't want to claim their illustrious quote.

Lame.

I know i can't be the only person who doubts this 'American Proverb' --- Hell, some college chic did an entire study on it.

If anyone can give me an instance where this, is actually true, i will gladly give you some service with a smile... whatever your service request may be.

Let me tell you why i think this guy is complete bullshit
because i have several examples to support my argument:

Situation ONE: Take this chic waiting for some guy to call her: Do you think she actually loves the guy?

Pshh...no. No... she just misses the attention. She could easily go out to a bar, a concert... even go running and she'd meet someone else. She just hasn't figured it out yet, because she has such an affinity for the vintage chorded phone.

Yeah...that's it.

Her heart isn't fond of her long-distance boyfriend.

Trust me. I had three roomates that all broke up with their long-term, far-away boy toys because they weren't around. Yes... i'm sure you are different. You're going to last forever.

Until you meet some other guy that's nearby. In your neighborhood. And will hang out with you every fucking day, instead of during a planned trip once every three months or so.

Furthermore... if you break up with someone, and they want to be 'best friends' after and act like it's no big deal, Tell them to Fuck off. It's much easier to get over shit when they completley disapear [a direct example that absence makes the heart less fonder].

Conclusion:: The heart's not fonder. The insecurity, penis/vagina, hips, lips, thighs, etc. etc. etc. are.

Situation TWO: The 100lb weight-loss.

Let's not be confused here. This woman was one tubby bitch. I'm sure she's coping with her emotional food demons of pre- weight loss. I'm sure she's still learning how to eat properly, and how to manage her diet and excercise routine while maintaining a busy swimsuit modeling career.

I don't doubt that.

But do you really think the inner fat girl inside's heart is going "Fat! How I miss thee! Let me count the ways."
Uh. No. She's probably got more confidence around people, which leads her to believe that she's hotter [which she is because she's more secure... not because she's more thin], which leads her to believe that fat is EVIL and was once the cause of all of her problems.

Conclusion:The heart's not fonder. But i guess her size 6-8 jeans probably are.

Situation THREE: That High School Jock Guy.

This isn't so much a situation, as much as it is a point that you're cooler than this guy.

I know all of you knew a guy like this in High School. Because they exist everywhere; be it a population 1200 po-dunk town or some ritzy teen-movie high school in hollywood.

The keyword here is, knew. You knew this guy. You don't know him now, because he still longs for his high school days, and that just makes him a loser.

These days were his high point. He was top dawg, bro! The girls were dumb, the beer was heavily on tap (at parties, for free... because he was... uh... you know... hot), and he didn't have to go to class because he was junior varsity lineman for the football team (vomit).

Now he's sitting around, balding considerably, finally putting on weight and wondering if some hot 18-year-old would still go for his loser ass. He's probably working at your local furniture store, too.

Conclusion: This is an example of fondness gone wrong. Do you really want to be like Uncle Rico, longing for 1982? GET OVER IT.

But still...i digress: the heart's not fond! The Ego is!

Situation FOUR:: The Pac Rat:

I know you. You save everything, thinking, 'oh...one day i'll wear this!' or 'that could come back into style one day... my ass ain't too big!'.

But then your level-headed monica geller-of-a-friend comes in and talks some logic into your giant hoarding butt.

You clear out the clutter. Make room for good shit in your life. Maybe you even make a few bucks of the shitty stuff you sold, because some 14-year-old drummer in a band thot a sweatband would go over well for his 'image.'

Conclusion: The heart's not fonder. You're just lazy and need motivation, beyotch.
[note: this also includes furniture and all that other shit you put in your 'junk closet']

Situation FIVE: Chocolate! [or any other delicious substance]

I admit: Chocolate- big fan. big big big big fan. but mostly only when it's there. on the counter. looking at me.

Easter and Christmas come... and so does a huge basket/stocking full of...chocolate.

What do you do? eat the entire contents within a week. Bet you wouldn't have touched it if you hadn't of seen the suculant treat.

Move that shit out of my territory and i don't even thing about it. Fonder? Um... No.

Conclusion:: Your heart's not fonder. Your boredom needed a nice, tubby little buddy.

I could go on and on... [the chicken pox you had when you were five, the ingrown toenail that hurt like a bitch every time you went running... even really fabulous things, like living in a hotel for a week...] it all gets old. Your heart grows tired of it all... not fonder.

The american proverb guy was retarded.
Write your local congressman..
Tell them american proverb's are for sissys.

Can you say SLACK-ASS!?

Just a few things that make me laugh:

The The Four Four Recap.

John Mayer's Trading board April Fools Prank.

Finding out that an anonymous friend of mine sprained their wrist while masterbating. The two clenchers?
1. Going to the doctor and pretending they didn't know what happened.
2. Listening to Limp Bizkit at High Volume to get "in the zone."

I seroiusly cried about that one.

This Commercial:



That is all...