June 13, 2007
becoming los angeles

lately something has been changing. for a good while i couldn't put my finger on it, but i knew it was there, pushing in on me from all directions. i could feel it in the air and in the water, in my bed while i slept.

i woke up one morning this week and realized what it is- i'm happy here, alone in los angeles.

of course i'm not actually alone- i have some amazing and diverse friends who have helped me to find this new love. but there it is. things here are wonderful.

when i broke up with exBoy last year, it was the beginning of the upswing- i began spending more time with my lovely ladies and less at home. i went to knitting groups more- i went to festivals and dinners and classes. i learned my way around- i found more crafts and places to dance. when i moved out april 1st, it was as if everything finally fell into place. the first time i went out on a weeknight without anyone to come home to i felt dangerous... and free.

so i've been on some dates (all firsts, no seconds. though there was a 1.5 with the sexican...) and i've gone out with my girls, and i've hosted guests and been to parties and learned that i really like being on my own.

which is why i resent my current state of "crush" so intensely. you see, i don't want to like a boy (or man or guy or whatever.) i want to devote myself to the metric shittonne of rhinestoning necessary to be ready for my two (2!) july performances. i want to have time for sewing and sunday afternoon gelato with friends. and yet... well that's a post for another time. preferably a time after he's taken me out for dinner!

and that dinner better be good, seeing as he's a native angeleno. i want to know all the secret spots so i can better experience my new love- and i do mean the city. for now.*




*kidding.**
**maybe.***
***who knows? stop pressuring me! i'm not ready coach! don't put me in the game!



June 07, 2007
CRAP

i had every intention of posting today, but i actually had to work.

that said, i'm going to vegas this weekend for the exotic world competition/expo, and so will have to catch you up on monday or tuesday.

there is much to learn, students... for instance, how many tamales can i eat? will i go on a date ever again? where is the beef?

these answers and more, loves. much more.



June 04, 2007
the first pancake

there's a little joke amongst my friends that beginning to date again is like making pancakes; the first one is always wrong, too greasy or uncooked. progressively, they get better... but someone has to be the first pancake.

here is the story of my first pancake.

his name was peter. we emailed for a while through salon's personals, and he seemed nice, and non-threatening, and genetically male*, and perhaps funny. bonus: he once worked for the TOS message boards, which sort of makes me weak in the knees. <3 star trek! <3

anyway, we decided to meet at the farmer's market... and i had an easy out just in case in the form of pinksara, with whom i was supposed to attend a burlesque show later than evening. so i left work and set off for the market in my cute leopard print pedalpushers and pompadour. the way i figure it, i should wear something a little weird right off the bat so they know who they're dealing with. thus the peg pants.

i was ready to rumble.

i arrived at the market and as i got out of my car, i noticed the zipper in my pants was down. so i pulled at it- and completely ripped the entire top of my pants off. HULK SMASH! the waistband and zipper were just... gone. conveniently, i had a long green scarf with me, which i tied jauntily about my waist, and then i wandered sadly into the farmer's market.

i saw him from about 30 feet away.

there was nothing inherently wrong, but i knew it wasn't right. i hadn't been expecting much, which worked to my advantage. i figured, i'll stay an hour then make my escape. i sat down.

he was remarkably skinny. he seemed sort of judgemental of my tattoos- but purely out of ignorance. he was very midwestern, and yet he said "dude" alot. he was antsy, kept drumming his fingers on the table. there was a "ratatatatat" sound as he did so, seemingly louder than fingers should make. i continued the conversation, ignoring it.

the sound continued as well, ignoring me.

i noticed that with each eruption of noise, peter seemed to adjust his weight.

you've got to be kidding me. is he farting? continuously? and without shame? PLEASE GOD TELL ME THIS IS A JOKE AND CLIVE OWEN IS GOING TO COME SWEEP ME UP IN HIS ARMS AND WE'LL TURN INTO BIRDS TO FLY FAR FAR AWAY FROM FIRST PANCAKE PETER.

and then, quite suddenly, in the middle of the conversation, pancake peter exclaimed, "so anyway it was nice to meet you, i'll talk to you later!" and just as quickly as he could, he ran off into the night...

in the direction of the restrooms...

never to be seen nor heard from again.


so i'm pretty sure that as long as my future dates can refrain from shitting their pants (wombat, if you weren't already married, we'd have to work on this one) then the pancake joke will become truth. already it REEKS of truthiness...

or perhaps that is something else altogether?



golden state