Monday, October 31, 2011

Hate Having Feelings

One of my beloved LSU football players tweeted the title of this post. And I totally agreed. I hate having feelings too! But I do. They exist. Somewhere beneath my well-cultivated, but totally porous, exoskeleton, there they are. And I can't always bury them deep enough, as much as my repressed Irish Catholic self would like that. So instead I'm burying them after the jump. Because I can't afford therapy.

Sunday, October 30, 2011


I was all "Why is the internet so boring right now?" And I realized a) it's Saturday night and b) it's an absurd holiday weekend. Everyone is out dressing slutty because they aren't actually slutty and making out in bars. Boo, internet. I need you to dance for me!

I don't usually go out on big holidays. It's not my thing. I sort of hate...everyone. But especially crowds. And the downside of being from the teeny tiny hamlet of San Francisco, where everyone knows everyone, is that someone will inevitably see me act like the kind of jackass you act on these nights and it gets back to my parents and that's no good. Plus transport is a pain in the ass can see my general attitude towards it is why I don't go out on what are amateur nights. I prefer to keep my assyness to every other weekend on the calendar, leaving these festive type weekends to the young'uns.

I went to see Hair tonight. It was fun. It felt a little like a high school production though. Just really exuberant young people dancing around for 3 hours with very little plot. Not that that's a complaint (lots of shirtless pretty 20 something doods is alright by me). And I may be listening to the soundtrack now and dancing around the beach house. Maybe.

Which is a nice change from yesterdays attitude. See: I got "He's not that into you"'d by a 22 year old. Frankly, that's the height of absurdity. I spent a few hours pissed about it, then a day feeling all rejected and losery, eating all my favorite junk foods. Then I got real talk from my friends/stepsis and now I'm gonna dance around the beach house and drink leftovers from the party and he can kindly gfh because I'm awesome. I mean, I'm playing tug-o-war with the 90 pound pitbull while drinking beer with the windows open. That's AWESOME. And he could be here. But he's not. So screw him (figuratively, of course).

About that pitbull: I suddenly had the genius idea that I need to make him 2 other false heads and he can go as cerberus for Halloween. Why did I not think of that earlier? I always said if I got a dog as big and intimidating as him he'd be named Cerby. I geek out on mythology.

Anyway, all of that is a long way of saying, I'm gonna live blog the drinking. But frankly, it might be short because I'm kinda ready to just go to sleep. Alone. Stupid boys. (Drink 1: pumpkin ale stuff. Why does everyone love this? It's like drinking pie. I prefer to eat my pie.)

12:42: the 90 lb dog is laying across my lap. I told him he's not exactly what I had in mind to cuddle with tonight. Yes, I speak out loud to my dogs. Whatever, you do it too. It never ceases to amuse the hell out of me how something that's supposed to be so fearsome can be such a baby.

In other news: my workouts, while (somewhat) consistent, haven't exactly been pushing the limit lately. I'm gonna do the 7 mile walk/hike up through Land's End tomorrow as punishment exercise. I made a goal to be able to jog four miles by the end of the year. So I gotta start working on that. I really really hate being fat and it contributes to a lot of these boy problems, methinks. (Such a fatass. Drink 2: Heineken. After this is crap American beers leftover from party like Bud and Miller. Might switch to Jameson, rocks.)

1:13: I am still on beer 2. The hell? I am also listening to the entire Lost Boys soundtrack. And still resisting purchasing the movie for $4.99 on iTunes. Because I'm not sure I'd actually watch it that much but nostalgia dictates I should have it. There's really only one song to listen to on the soundtrack and that's the epic Santa Cruz bonfire/Jason Patrick sees Jamie Gertz/saxaphone heavy song I Still Believe. Okay, Cry Little Sister is pretty legit too.

1:21 Moved to beer 3, found an Abita in the fridge. Still listening to Lost Boys soundtrack.

2:04 and still on the Abita. Guess I'm not really into this drinking thing tonight. Keep pushing the pit off of my section of the couch. Started watching Real Genius but got bored with that so now just me and the dogs on the couch. Alright, I'm also half screwing around on stupid online dating site, that I had previously quit and thought I was all badass. I didn't even quit it for a month. Geezus. It's just, ya know, ME on the couch though and that's kind of a bummer. Think it's prolly time to call it a night. (Fortunately sober so not doing anything idiotic with my phone. But so tempted.)

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Random Sh*t

I took the dog to puppy training class last night and it was one of the most traumatic experiences EVER.

We've owned various dogs throughout my life. The last dog I remember going to any sort of training class was our husky that we got when I was 9. Most of our dogs were pretty good with the sit/stay/come. Our American Bulldog had dog aggression and was never off leash and all our other dogs have their own little personality traits. The husky would run away for days at a time, but always come back and liked to kill small woodland creatures (he was part wolf, allegedly). But mostly just really good dogs.

This dog is the smallest dog we have ever ever owned. By a lot. She's about ten pounds. The dog we got a year ago had been the smallest dog we'd ever owned and he's now 35 pounds. My tendency is to just pick her up a lot, which means she doesn't listen. She's also at least part terrier and terriers are a stubborn and willful breed. So she really doesn't listen. Mostly I just need her to learn to come back so I can let her off leash to play.

We went to the SPCA to get our learning on and about half way through I was ready to cry. She was tired of being on a leash, she'd been paying such good attention but then was just over it. You're in a room with ten other dogs and they can't even play! She did sit really good for awhile and has FINALLY started to look at me when I call her but I didn't bring nearly enough treats and even those weren't a big draw once she figured out that the treats meant doing shit.

Seriously, I have not been that exhausted after mental stimulation since taking the bar exam.

And the dog has never been so traumatized. At one point during training, as I'm squatting down near her because she's tiny and I don't want to pick her up, she buried her face between my arm and leg because she couldn't handle it anymore. I felt so bad! Related: never ever having children.

She's still traumatized today. Usually she wakes me up around 7:30 to go out and chows down her breakfast. I woke her up at 9 and she won't eat her food. She also won't leave my side. Stupid dog training.

In other news: It's Halloween weekend! That's a sarcastic exclamation point. I do not care about Halloween. I started dubbing it slut-o-ween a few years ago, a term that either I subconsciously picked up from the popular lexicon or I invented (the latter). One year I joked about taking a mishmash of slutty costumes and just going as a slutty slut. Like a nurses hat and fishnets and a firefighter jacket and a goalie shirt. Ya know, just an amalgamation of ridiculous crap that has been sexualized for Halloween because that's what the holiday has devolved into. But I'm not the type of girl who should be dressing up as slutty anything so...

I'm also incredibly uncreative and lazy when it comes to costumes. Every year when I was a kid we went to the Jessica McClintock outlet, got some oversized dress, cut the bottom off of it and I threw on a tiara. Insta-princess. My mom is not a sewer so no hand made costumes for us. In college I remember donning all black, putting on a choker, a pair of ears and using eyeliner to draw on whiskers. Insta-cat. The most recent time I dressed up was two years ago. I wore Levi's jeans, converse all-stars, a basic black top, a scarf, carried a Longchamp purse, threw a baguette in it sticking out of the top and joked about being bitchy and dismissive to everyone, which I am anyways. I was a French woman. Ta-da!

This year, I have no plans to go out. LSU has a bye week and I have taken to abstaining from alcohol during bye weeks, which is actually nice. Less regretful decisions made that way. I'm going to see Hair on Saturday night with Michael and Cheryl is out of town. So no Halloween debauchery for me, thanks.

However, my mom bought those fake sleeve tattoos and came up with the RIDICULOUS idea that I should wear those along with a Ben Davis shirt, a pair of Dickies, basic Pumas, a baseball hat low that covers my eyebrows, and carry around a can of Skoal and go as my brother. I was immediately and completely annoyed by this idea. I couldn't quite figure out why this bothered me so much though. It's kinda funny in theory. And when I told my brother's friends about it at the bar the other night they thought it was HYSTERICAL. So why was I so put off by it? Then it dawned on me: I have a hard enough time in San Francisco being taken seriously as ME, going as HIM would just compound the problem. I would be inextricably linked, more than I already am, as his sister and guys would be even MORE afraid to go within a hundred miles of me. Yeah, no.

(In fairness: one year for lazy Halloween, I stole his old Marine Corp camos that he'd abandoned at my moms, made them as sexy as I could (black tank top, shirt undone), wore the hat and everything and may have ended up late night making out with someone. So it's kinda possible, I suppose, to dress like him and not be considered just his sister. Still. I'd rather not risk it with a full on little brother homage outfit.)

And in the last of other news: the stepsis is keeping me sane with some serious emailing back and forth as I navigate getting to know someone new waters. Which I HATE. I mean, why isn't it all just easy and me being the sort of brutally forward person that I am is just cool? (It never ever is.) She's supposed to come up here to run the SF Marathon which I think is stupid and am trying to convince her to just come up that weekend to party and to watch the Bama game with me. Because I've decided I'm judging everyone by how much they care about me caring about LSU Bama. Watching it with me? Bonus points. Not even mentioning it? (Looking at you mom) Crappy Christmas presents (which they will be anyways cuz I still ain't got no job). So this is my public plea to convince everyone to convince Kathryn to come up here to watch LSU/Bama and cause the kind of trouble only her and I cause together. It's been too long! (since July).

Oh wait! One last thing: I went to high school with these guys and they were just these TOTAL surfer dudes. Then when we were college aged they were the guys who worked some crap job and then took their money to go surf Indo for a month, came back, lather, rinse, repeat. The one guy, Marty, was one of those high school guys who did not appreciate my mouthy nature back then, but he turned out to be pretty chill (his brother is SO HOT, you guys). Then they started this clothing company and it's actually taken off, which is super cool for them even if I'm left scratching my head going "Those surfer slackers, wha?" Anyway, Marty lives around the corner from my dad and every single damn time I drive around the block to get somewhere, this hot blonde guy will waive at me and smile and I'll think, "Oh! Me?!" before it takes me fifteen seconds to process, "Oh. It's Marty being nice. Never mind."

That's all a really long way of saying: SF is getting the Rip Curl Pro this fall, which I guess is a big freaking surf deal? (It's been since high school since I paid attention to surfing. Not much need for it in South Louisiana. Yes, I had Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton pictures on my bedroom wall in high school, what of it?) And Marty and Andy were called in to narrate the epic awesomeness that is Ocean Beach to get people prepped for the Pro. And now I'm gonna ponder SO MANY SURFERS across the street from the beach house. Suuhhweeet. (Brushes up on her surfer speak by watching Blue Crush.)

Later, bitches!

Monday, October 24, 2011

Melting My Brain

If you wanted to buy me this shirt, that'd be cool.

Hey you guys! Do you know that my football team is good? Like really really good? It is! And that's awesome! But it's also incredibly anxiety inducing. My already superstitious nature gets ramped up even more. I have two weeks to prep and freak out about the big huge giant game against the University of Alabama taking place on November 5th. Which CBS has mercifully made a night game. I say mercifully because these day games are killing my liver.

Yesterday we played Auburn at 12:30, west coast time. A gorgeous Saturday that I spent in the depths of a bar. Bar None to be exact. I eschewed going to the LSU bar just because I needed a change of scenery. In fact, I really wasn't gonna go out at all. I was gonna stay home and watch it. But everyone was at my house which inhibits my enjoyment of it. And I'm having some serious mom issues at the moment. Mostly she's doing that whole mothering thing, and since I'm at base still a 15 year old, I butt up against.

I thought about just watching it at the beach house but considering that the internet wasn't working last weekend there during party prep/the Tennessee game, I was wary of trying it again. (The party was amazing, by the way. More on that some other day. Or maybe not.) I also don't trust streaming live games. ESPN3 sucks. I wasn't sure CBS's site would be much better.

So off I headed to the Marina with Cheryl, who is always game for my crazy plans. Days at Bar None are pretty much empty, which is great. AND they had the sound on for the LSU game, which is a bonus. There were like five people in the bar, including the bartender. And they were all friendly and chatty. The boys all seemed to know each other and were talking about the spreads in the games because I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they bet on them all. I then became interested and kept asking for spreads because I thought it was an interesting marker of how a team should be playing against an opponent. It's fascinating to see how right on the Vegas spreads are too.

We ate crappy bar food and I smack talked an Oregon fan who was talking about our anemic early scoring when we busted out in the 3rd quarter and reminded him that Oregon lost to LSU. I got in an argument with a guy in a Notre Dame alumni shirt who was a lawyer later about there being a cause of action for misrepresentation if you tell a girl you'll marry her to get her to sleep with her and then go back on that promise. I mean, no one is ACTUALLY suing for that anymore, that's 1920s stuff, but IT EXISTS! And that Notre Dame didn't believe me pissed me, and my inferiority complex about "better" schools, off.

As we were the only girls in the bar for a long time, lots and lots of drinks were purchased on our behalf. Which Cheryl always loves. It's her goal when we go out to have boys buy us drinks. And they did. And I flirted with a guy from San Jose, gave him my number but he had to disappear to continue some birthday party pub crawl so nothing came of that.

We were gonna leave the bar. But then the Bama game came on and I wanted to watch the competition. Then Oklahoma and Wisconsin games. I was pouting about some boy stuff and told Cheryl around 7 that I really needed to go, the empty beach house and it's warm back porch and lots of free liquor from the party were calling my name but for some reason we ended up staying. And eating pizza from the place upstairs. And the night kept going and going.

I was introduced to Pinnacle Whipped Cream vodka at the beach house party by my brother's girlfriend. I made fun of it for being intensely girly. But really, it's straight vodka that tastes like drinking cake batter (though apparently there is also a cake flavored one too). And I was doing shots of it at 1 p.m. and then being bought MORE shots of it throughout the night. No idea how many. And Corona. We were drunkity drunk drunk. Because we'd been at the bar since 12:30 and it was now night time.

I finally decided enough was enough and went to close out my tab. It was an obscene tab. I do not have as much money as the tab was. BUT. Matty, the bartender, sorta loves me. Or just knows who I am related to (he knows because my brother stopped by the bar earlier when working and my last name on which I was running a tab is not common). He did love me independently though when we were smart-assing about naming all 120 college teams and he said "Name the MAC" and I went, "Uhhhh..." and he started naming the schools. As he did, I'd name the mascots of each school. When he got to Central Michigan, I said, "The Chippewas" which he was impressed by. Endearing myself to men with random football knowledge since the mid-90s.

Anyway, our tab was halved. And then I split that with Cheryl and considering we'd now been sitting our asses at the same bar for several hours, it really wasn't that bad. Except right as I closed out our tab and Matty offered us more free drinks, my brother's best friends showed up, who I consider my dear friends too and so then we stayed even longer. And then followed them to another bar where we know even more people. And then Cheryl and I drunkenly stumbled back to her place up a big giant hill that I do not remember at all walking up and had to text her today asking how we got from bar #2 back to her house. When she told me I laughed.

So yeah. A night kickoff is preferable.

On the upside, I'm too hungover today to really be anxious about the Bama game yet. But starting tomorrow I'll obsess about our chances of success and do my part to have some impact on the outcome even though I don't actually possess such power. Just don't tell my brain that, it believes otherwise.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Day Games and Steven Garcia

LSU has CBS day games for the rest of the season. People are pissed. "We play night games, dammit! You're cutting in to our tailgating time!" And let me assure you, my west coast living liver does not enjoy 1 p.m. kickoffs. See: last weekend.

Here's the deal: CBS holds the contract, we do what they say. I absolutely get that. We're beholden to the almighty TV contract dollar. ("LOL amateurism wut" here.) When I was at LSU, the student government tried to pass a resolution that we only play night games at home. I laughed and thought "That's adorable." Being on the big networks means big money and no school is turning that down, though we admire your plucky outlook, future leaders! (There was also a great joke made during this day game debacle that Huey P. Long would never allow no SEC home night games to happen. "He'd hold the CBS broadcast trucks at the state lines!" Louisiana political humor is the best.)

What I don't get is that people on the Twits and such are all, "Be glad you're playing day games! It means you're good. Would you rather be mediocre and play night games?" Obviously not. But that logic fails me too.

Why can't we be good AND play night games? Why is CBS preferring to put people in the midday slot? It seems that the competition is a lot fiercer with day game kickoff, as most midwestern schools kick off then. (Think about it. Want to be outside in Ann Arbor in November? Not likely. Outside in Baton Rouge in November is still pleasant.) Someone pointed out that CBS has only one night game slot a year, which they blew on UF/Bama and not holding out until November when LSU/Bama met, as it was a gamble that both teams would still be undefeated. And that may be true, contractually, that CBS only have the rights to one night game a year.

What I still don't get is WHY that's the case. Are you really drawing more viewers in prime time on Saturday night with 2 1/2 Men and CSI reruns (I looked, that's exactly what CBS has scheduled for Saturday night) than a marquee college matchup? And trust me, you air the SEC and people are gonna stay in or go to bars and watch it.

I'm not hollering about the fine LSU tradition of being blitzed on bourbon before (alliteration ftw!) kickoff at 7 p.m. I'm just saying it would seem logical to CBS's bottom line that airing a big time college football game at night with less key game competition that's presented with day games would be more beneficial to them than less, so telling me "Be glad CBS wants you on during the day!" loses something.

In all seriousness if someone can explain this to me, I'd be happy to hear it. I'm guessing that the big networks made some side agreement that ABC/ESPN gets night games and not CBS, but why the hell would CBS agree to that?

In other news: Steven Garcia was kicked off the University of Southern California South Carolina football team. (Seriously typed that wrong. West coast living!) What I take issue with in this is the high comedy the internet finds in Steven Garcia's plight. The guy has been suspended 5 times throughout his collegiate career and it seems pretty apparent has some sort of issues with the boozeahol. I truly don't mean to get all preachy but it concerns me that this is taken as a giant joke. Comments on twitter seem to be making fun of his love of alcohol, when if it costs you a college scholarship and a spot on the football team it seems much more problem than joke.

I'm just really concerned that no one actually watches out for these kids. I have been since I discussed the issue with my sports law professor and asked him who was looking out for the student athletes, as the athletic department and administration have their own agendas, and he said, "No one." Amateurism lolz aside, they are treated as commodities. Unpaid commodities. With Erik Ainge's recent admission of his issues with drugs and alcohol, even while at the University of Tennessee, you have to wonder how much close attention these universities are paying to the welfare of the student athlete off the field. On the one hand, they are adults who are responsible for their own decision making. On the other hand, they are 18-22 year olds living away from home for the first time and the school needs to be making sure they're actually okay, beyond being okay enough to play.

I'm following as much of the LSU football team on Twitter as I am aware of and I started retweeting some of their stuff with #emofootballplayertweets. They are adorable. However, it quickly became apparent that if I kept doing that, my timeline would be a constant stream of such RTs. 18-22 year old dudes are emo as fuck. And they should be! Good lord that time in my life... But it's the school's job to check in on that. Because what happened to Ryan Leaf and Erik Ainge and what seems to be happening with Steven Garcia should be more than just "boys being boys! Alcohol ahahaha!" stories. They end up being cautionary tales that no one actually listens to as they seem to happen over and over again. The parents have trusted the schools with the kids, and as educators, which is what football coaches and athletic department staff truly are, it's their job to check in on this. Now, can you babysit Garcia? Not likely. And if he's an alcoholic, you likely can't stop him. But shouldn't they offer him some help instead of just punishment, which after 5 times of doling it out, it obviously wasn't working?

Everyone should be a little more concerned for Steven Garcia, and similarly situated athletes, both pro and amateur, rather than just laughing at them.


That's the whip sound up there. And it refers to my brother. I was just on Facebook and his girlfriend's status is the following:

"My lovey is making me homemade chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner! Just like his momma use to on rainy days. ♥"

Several things about that:

1. A year ago, before my brother was all involved with a girl, he couldn't boil water. He didn't have dishes in his house. He ate out all the time. I'm fairly certain he couldn't make eggs. Now all of a sudden he's making soup from scratch? Women be the greatest arbiters of change in men.

2. I seriously must be adopted. I have exactly zero recollection of that EVER being a meal that my mother made. I don't recall her making chicken soup from scratch when I was growing up. I remember Campbell's. Not that she can't make soup, she just more often made broccoli soup or mushroom soup. In fact, I'm the one that makes the chicken soup, not her. And I don't use noodles. Hysterically, I made that exact meal for my mom and I last week when I was sick. (Except I had the soup frozen from a previous batch I'd made, but still...) 

I'm not entirely shocked that him and I have incredibly different memories. As we get older and talk about stuff, what he remembers from our childhood and what I remember diverges significantly. He'll ask me about an event and I'll have no memory of it and vice versa. I do recall from my psychology of memory class in college that we all remember the same events differently and no one really understands the brain and blah blah. But still: never ever with the homemade chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese. 

3. I'll forgive the leaving off of the "d" after "use" but the heart? I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. 

In all honesty, it has been a massive sea change to see my brother in an honest to god relationship. He's like an actual human being. Not the jerk I was used to dealing with. I totally applaud his girlfriend, who I really like, for having such a positive impact on his life. I mean, he still has his moments, he will always be him, but our relationship, the way he treats me has improved greatly. So I hope they never ever break up so he doesn't go back to being a jerk face. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

Weekend Lunacy

You guys. It was...pretty epic. It involved doing shots of Crown Royal with the Canadian Navy (all of who were super ridiculously good looking. I mean, even their girls were really pretty. Like stunningly. Like way too pretty to be trapped on a ship. Gorgeous. And the guys were all tall and...Canadian.) It involved accomplishing a long held goal of sorts. It involved kicking the ever loving pants off the University of Florida in football. It was full of win. And then the worst hangover of football season/the year so far on Sunday which is kind of a loss. Oh, and it involved ordering a replacement credit card. So. Yeah.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011


Shit. What do I have to say to you guys? That's lame, right? That I can't think of anything? I went to this MCLE thing on Saturday...


MCLE means Mandatory Continuing Legal Education. Because paying an obscene amount of money to get a J.D. isn't enough, you are required to get 25 MCLE credits every three years to stay compliant with bar rules. MCLE credits can cost a ton of money. Like $500 for 3 credits in some instances. If you work at a firm, they usually pay for your CLEs (I think?). And I'm sure they are tax deductible as a business expense but I don't really know yet. ANYWAY. As they are expensive, my school was giving away 3 free to recent alumni. I had to take this offer. It just meant sacrificing my Saturday morning, in direct conflict of LSU playing (but it was only Kentucky which is a basketball school and thus should be an easy win though I never assume our wins will be easy (it was)...not that that kept me from whining incessantly on Twitter about missing the game), to earn them.

So I went and got 3 MCLE credits, that aren't even due 'til 2014 for me because of the group I am in, in how to be your best legal self. Or something. It was a lot of "network network network!" stuff. But some good actual information on what you could be doing as far as furthering your job search blah blah. And some silly, but helpful for me, visualization exercises. And I got to spend all morning with my law school friend Kelly and gossip so there are worse ways to spend time.

Part of that lecture was on blogging. Which, ya know, I kinda know what a blog is, thanks. (They were also really pushing linkedIn which...yeah, no.) But they did say that you should post consistently. Which is true. I can set my watch by when most of the bloggers I like will post. Me? Not so much. So I realized I hadn't posted in over a week and said nothing of value recently so I thought I should come here and post something even though I don't have much to say. Phew.

That was a really long explanation of why I am posting.

The news from here is that it is raining and I am sick. I gave up drinking from the Sunday after the West Virginia game until the Florida game. (Yes, we mark time in the fall by who the opponent is.) That was a mere two weeks of not drinking. As I should have known from undergrad, the second I take time off from drinking, my body goes, "Whoa whoa! WTF? Where's that boozeahol stuff we like? Mmm. Think we need to recharge. How about a cold then, to get back on track?" So I'm sick. And not happy about it. No going to the gym, lots of ramen eating and ginger ale, much bad TV. It's annoying. But at least I'm not missing sun. It's storming!

All I know is that this better freaking clear up (both my cold and the weather) by this weekend because in addition to a big, annoyingly scheduled day game matchup with the Florida Gators, it is fleet week. We'll call that my second favorite holiday. You should all be aware by now that my generally sane, rational, logical self (stop laughing. Stop it. I mean it!) loses her sanity in very few instances. The introduction of a large group of sailors, their ships and planes, into our fair city is one of them. The Blue Angels will buzz across the city, flying low across the bay, rattling buildings, and bars will be filled with guys on leave. Combine this with me drinking all the Abita (assuming I feel better) for a 1 p.m. kickoff and it should be a pretty great weekend. It is also Caps opening day, in what will be my first full season of hockey fandom, at 3 on Saturday. There is pretty much no reason, except for maybe getting food, for me to leave the LSU bar on Saturday. Except to go to other bars. I'm taking public transport that day. Not looking forward to a $40 cab ride back to the Sunset but better than the alternative consequences. Look at me! Being kinda sorta responsible!

Though really I'm most excited about the window rattling jets and hanging with my friends because the less idiotic things I do lately, the happier I am. Well, the less Sundays I spend doubled over in shame the happier I am, at the very least.

With that I'm gonna go chow down on Vitamin C, eat MORE ramen (since my favorite Chinese food joint, that was my go to place to feel better, closed 3 years ago and I'm STILL bitter about) and pound Dayquil. Or the generic Walgreens version of it because I am so broke. I have no idea what's in that stuff but it's magic.