Ok, so i quit my job about a week ago...so i haven't been online and i haven't blogged. But i am updating nooooooow!
The job hunt goes well and not so well. Well on my part because i have been sending out tons of resumes but not so well because i don't have anyone calling me back. Soooo, monday, more resumes and junk.
Sigh, we're playing lots of DND right now, so i'll go for now, ttys!
Deeeeeeeelicious!
After a horrible experiment involving bananas and my digestive tract, the roasted veggies, orzo pasta, and salad we got catered (for free, cause they want our business) was a much needed and welcome change.
For those of you playing the home game, The Toast HATES bananas. Ever since i was little, that yellow mushy milky flesh-from-hell has mocked me as i played beneath its mother's leaves in the hawai'ian sun.
But i digress...
Sigh and more sighs, i feel the overwhelming need for further personal evaluation. This is caused largely in part by my work situation (an office with all women who love to bring personal feelings into the mix, and who enjoy blaming people for no reason) and various other things to boot: living situation, moving, boyfriend, friends, ambition, family.
I am not ready to leave my job the benefits that come with my job, i.e. $, medical, dental, vactation, sick hours, and what not. The actual job is mundane, but varied enough to be barely interesting. It's the people. I can't STAND women. Perhaps this is why i have all almost all guy friends, and have a hard time talking to women without being disgusted.
Women are not inherently bad creatures, but the ladies here are unreasonable, unlistening, quick-to-judge, gift-basket-giving, hand-written thank-you note sending, Martha wannabe's who get severly insulted when i don't mouth-gush thanks or grovel when making mistakes. They bake, constantly, for the office and then claim that "It's not that good.", taking lessons in compliment fishing from a page right out of high school America.
Not to get into it, but though we are a non-profit, i heard my boss boss blatantly say yesterday that "We're all in it for the money. That is what it's all about." So i am left thinking 'What about cancer? The research, the assistance, the educating, etc?'. Because of those few words fallen carelessly from her nonchalant face, i felt physically ill. While i can't deny that all business, big and small, is about the money, i can't believe these people claim to be in it "for the lives" when viewed from the outside, and rave about the money when they're alone. In short, i makes me sick. I can't work for people i don't respect. And hypocrisy is one of the greatest the greatest injustice apparent in today's society.
So job, need to leave, but can't just yet. Need the stability. Need the funds. Gotta keep working. (Eek, cut to Brave New World... what was that about class structure, ambition, and soma?) Which leads to living situation. Need the $ to move, don't have enough time to really find a new place due to ouside influences = stress. Toss in a slight cold and a dash of worry-about-the-future and you got yourself one dilly of a pickle.
On the up side, i am (slowly) getting my house cleaned up, the bf and i are just fine and communicating more than ever, i've lost a smidgen of weight (enough for a coworker to notice), my phone has been found and recovered(and all the info in it, pics, #'s were deleted though), and the best thing: last night was the first night in months that my dad told me he loved me back. Almost brings a tear to the eye, don't it?
Well back to work and life. I hate the tense air of this place, at any second i could get in trouble for something i did, or didn't do... makes me want to smear the walls with poo and laugh maniacally to punish them... Don't look at me that way, it worked for Butterz.
Talk about a WEEKEND! Took me till weds to post about it! Here's a run of events:
Friday, after much self reflection, got a ride from my boss to the local Barnes & Noble to hang out for Nico. Listened to Godspeed You! Black Emperor for several hours there, combing the racks of books for something interesting. Talked with some people in the graphic novels section who were impressed and bewildered by my obscure gn knowledge (courtesy of one Evan Stiles). I finally settled on some gifts: The Sandman Companion for Evan, The Art of War by Sun Tsu for Fred and Warren, Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf (the best trans i've ever found), and a paper copy of Chainfire for myself (i only have the hard cover one).
Met Nico at the B&N cafe, had a cup, grabbed some Zankou, and met back at Evan's house. Hung round till Warren came over and headed off to Lucky Baldwin's where we i got pretty tanked (yeah, off 2 beers, i'm a lightweight). Went back to Evan's to read some shakespeare, watch some aqua teen, and sweet sleep.
Saturday we were supposed to go rock climbing early, but needed to recover from the night before, and spent the beginning of the day playing final fantasy. We breezed through Little Tokyo to look for an egg mold (i am dying without one!) and ended up at the Getty to see the Icons of Sinai exhibit. It was truly, TOO COOL. Literally, cool as well cause we went at night and had to run in between the buildings because the wind was whipping and chilling and would just knock you over.
Then to Ev and Mir's place in Brentwood for Munchkin, more drinks, and good times. We swung by Live Jazz on the way home to check out Nico and John. The last band was wrapping up and we spent the time drawing cartoons on flyers for the Cocaine. Back to my house for sleep (interrupted sleep courtesy of one black annoying cat).
Next morning we finally got going to the rocks, only to find it too cold and windy to stay for long. So we hiked for a bit and sat down talking, it was a nice view and the sun was warming. There were people mountain biking UP the mountain, passing us extremely slowly and dripping sweat. That was enough to make anyone get of their ass, but i realized that the combo of cold air, asthma, and fatigue was too much to surpass.
So instead of hiking all day, we went to tarzana-ish area and had some awesome shish-kebobs! It was served in this lavash type bread that was chewy and crispy, and the spices were incredible. After that we went to the rents house to hang out, had some soup with them (Barbara got a soup book for xmas and it is soooooo tasty!), joked around while watching Napoleon Dynamite, and then headed off. A few mins later we came back to the house cause evan's car was making the most horrible screeching noise. It eventually kinda went away, and we were able to go grocery shopping and get home without incident.
And that's it. It's not exciting, it's not glamorous, it's not even witty (haven't quite woken up yet) but there it is!
~The Toast
toast count: 1, raisin
Then here goes.
I've never been a tiny girl. As a young child i was slender, probably a result of all that running around in the hot hawai'ian sun, but i've never been truly "skinny". When i hit puberty i inherited my mother's classic woman's body: large hips, teeny waist, average bust, broad shoulders, etc.
It's always been very nice to have curves, to feel, well "like a woman". And it's flattering to hear men say how much more they'd rather have some fluff than nothing. However, there's one girl in high school who was my fiercest competitor, and who's comments on my body i've never forgotten. They were not malicious mind you, but delivered with such frankness and surprise(?) that they have stuck with me all these years.
Body issues aside, I never thought i had a chance at winning with her. Her family was wealthy, lived in a nice house, bought her everything she could ever want (inc. a baby grand for her birthday), and though my family lived comfortably and i had no cause for want, her well-off-ness bugged me, and still does today. In grades she was, for lack of a better word, superior. She was in all the special classes, great at math (where i was struggling), and just plain smart, though i believe all my years of daydreaming lent me a great deal of creativity, which i feel she was lacking.
Her parents, strict on the books, were more willing to let her go out at a young age. Before i had even started liking my first boyfriend, she had been with several, spent numerous nights over at friend's houses, hours at the mall, and got to hang around with classmates until late. Though i never had a real desire to do these things, (i was much more into video games, movies, building things, reading, and playing with a best friend who went to another high school) when i did eventually want to do them, i was not allowed at first and jealous of her freedom.
I've met her parents for a few minutes at a time, but i get the feeling that they are not very affectionate people(the validity of my views is not confirmed, i admit, i've seldomly met them). And i know, in my heart, that i grew up in a place open and full of love, which is worth more than money, cars, security, and even a baby grand piano. My parents were overly protective, which has had reprocussions throughout my life, and for the resentment i harbored towards them for a time, i am sorry.
But back to the point, we competed in many ways of which the playing field was completely level. In french we strove to be the most learned, to have the best gutteral "r", and to gain the most favor with the teacher whom everyone adored. We competed at dancing, who had the best moves, the most creativity, and most importantly, who looked the better doing it. In those silly ways and so many more, we developed, amazingly enough, a friendship. We never spoke of our competition, yet it was every day implied with a thick tangible tension that hung in the air.
After high school, through college, the constant struggle was muted, but not abolished. We worked hard and accomplished great thigns for so many other reasons than just each other. And while i sank into depression after graduation, some 3,000 miles from home, she went back, to the islands we both love, and is seemingly very happy.
To come full circle if you will, at this moment, i am very displeased with my body. I am not disgusting, i am not ugly, but i am quite a bit heavier than i want to be, than i used to be. This morning i found out she's a Group X instructor for 24 hour fitness. Perhaps it's a pompous exaggeration set up on MySpace, the ultimate site for gluing peacock feathers onto your own matted fur in an effort to prove to yourself that you matter in society. But regardless of its truth, it hurt like hell to read that. To know that the biggest thorn in my side, my body, is one of her top priorities and has been ever since those days in high school. I feel like i've let myself down, like she's won, like if i had her money and her family and her drive i could have done better.
It makes me want to work harder. It makes me hurt. It makes me mad. And upon recollection it makes me feel silly, that such a thing as weight can spawn such feelings in us. It makes me question myself. And the only answer i've come up with is that using hurt and anger to push yourself towards something you want will ultimately lead to your own destruction.
I want to be healthier and in turn, skinnier, but logging into MySpace and reading her profile everyday is not the way to do it. The pain, frustration, anger, jealousy, and even the competition will fade with time, if i let it. Right now, i'm still upset, and that's ok. I will not tell myself "i am a better person for being less vain", "i'm sure she's really unhappy on the inside", "she's only doing it cause she's insecure". It doesn't matter what she is or is not. The only one that matters is me. And i will not "be the bigger person and just let it go", 'cause that's bullsh*t too. For now, be upset. But, i'll look towards tomorrow and do more than just wish, hope, remember, and lament. I'll do the hardest thing i can. Take action.
{{{THIS POST WAS SAVED AS A DRAFT BACK AT MY OLD JOB, I AM POSTING IT ONLY CAUSE I WORKED HARD ON THOSE LINKS, AND IT'S EDUCATIONAL!}}}
Because it's friday! And it couldn't have come at a better time, when i feel the cold germs slowly winning the war for supremacy of my sinuses.
However, the jigglin' level is pretty low right now as i am really REALLY tired from the week. The phone is still MIA somewhere in Little Tokyo (we think), parents are less pissed, but i did spend one evening sitting in the cold and rain (listening to Godspeed You! Black Emperor, which made for a f*cking depressing combination!) so that may explain the congestion pain in my right ear.
So there's nothing i like more than reaching into the sink at work, to check that there's no utensils before i run the disposal, and getting 3 large honking egg yolks in my hand. Egg yolks that had been sitting there, festering for 2 days courtesy of my overly-paranoid coworkers.
The ladies i work with, all i can say, is that they're very old fashioned and, in some cases, more naive than i. They are still of the mind that eating egg yolks is bad for you. Silly silly women. Now, anyone who's done the research, can see that eggs are acutally beneficial to the body, in moderation of course. This same conclusion can be obtained by watching The Simpsons Episode[2F09] entitled "Homer the Great" when Lenny goes all egg-ucational:
"Lenny: Pfft, forget it, Homer. While it has been established that eggs
contain cholesterol, it has not yet been proven conclusively that
they actually raise the level of serum cholesterol in the human
blood stream.
Homer: So one of those Egg Council creeps got to you too, huh?"
But i digress... In short, it was gross, and that's all i gotta say about that!
Like a motherf*cker.
I rarely need my anti-deps but i need some today! And just my luck, i am all out at work. This does not bode well for our heroine.
Feeling crappy, kind of sick, wishing i didn't have quite so much plum wine and spicy noodles last night. Wishing even more that i didn't buy pickled ginger with msg in it yesterday. And yet still wishing that i knew where my phone wa- Holy World of Warcraft!, i know my blog is going downhill when i start bitchin' about msg and the loss of my cellphone.
I will not be a crappy blog, i will not i will not i will not!
Enjoy these crumbs while i gain my literary powers back!
!!Warning!! Shameless plug to follow!!!:
Evan's dad is a really awesome photographer, check out his webpage and look for is pictures fron Kenya. The fam just got back before the holidays and his shots are amazing, some even look like they're out of National Geographic! I never knew jackals were so cute...
An IM with Evan earlier today:
yeaaahtoast: so are you willing to take my to Little Tokyo after work?
snrincognito: yea i can take you tonight
snrincognito: ill get you from work and then we can go over
snrincognito: unless you wanna go home first and we go later
snrincognito: which im even more up for
snrincognito: but i imagine you'd rather not ride the bus
yeaaahtoast: well, honestly, japanese things close early and i want to get there asap, my phone is my ONLY communication, and i do not want to spend the night at my house hear the noises or get into trouble and have no way of calling for helop
yeaaahtoast: yes Helop, the god of help for pussy girls
yeaaahtoast: who are scared of the dark
toast count: 2 rye
It has come to my attention that many people are wittier than i.
It does not come as a shock mind you, but more like that nagging feeling you get when you kind of have to pee, and you don't want to go to the bathroom to yank down ye olde jeans and trickle for 2 seconds only to mutter-grumble to yourself about how you knew you didn't really have to go but your body was giving 'the signal' and you "thought it might be different (for f*cks sake) THIS time around".
Ok, well maybe it's not that particular feeling, but it's along the lines of wanting to sketch a badass mech image you've got in your head and all your hands produce is a blob of grayscale cat vomit.
Sigh, so be more wittier Toast! No, not Whittier, just the plain old non-hydrogenated wittier.
On another note, i am going to go f*cking bonkers-like-beans if i don't get to little tokyo and hunt down a bento box soon. Luckily i shmoozed my loving boyfriend into hauling my ass the 20 min it takes to get there in order for me to ooh and ahh over useless japanese crap while he stands around wondering when we're going to get to the arcade so he can play "Typing of the Dead"! But seriously though, i love that game.
~The Toast
toast count: 1 spelt w/ havarti, 2 multi w/ marg
I just watched a man walk into a glass window because he thought it was an automatic door. He was a older business man in a suit. He didn't look at me, but kept his head down and turned bright red. I didn't look at him, nor did i laugh till he drove away. He left a nose and forhead mark on the glass. That was one hour ago. The mark is still there.
A woman was buying a hot pink (silicone) jelly covered curling iron. It was in a clear and hot pink box with a lady on the front. From a distance, it looked like a hot pink jelly covered vibrator. The thumb release on the iron (which had a dollop of pink jelly so it stays cool) looked like the rabbit cl*t flicker on fancy vibrators. I was laughing so hard, i drooled on myself. The drool stain is still there.
toast count: 3 total
Christmas was very nice this year, (hey chronology! f*ck you!) and i surprisingly only got gifts that i only asked for in "the girl's way". For those of you with a Y chromosome, i'll explain...
(Before i get people commenting on how wrong this is and what a lame, totally putting women down, generalizing post this is, i want you to know: THIS IS A JOKE PEOPLE!!! Just enjoy its crappiness, don't take it too seriously, and have some fun.)
When a girl walks by something she likes, but doesn't outright buy it (for whatever reason) you are supposed to make note and get it for her later (within a "reasonable" price limit of course!).
"But The Toast, my gf does that all the time, i can't buy everything for her!" says you, Mr. Post-Graduate-income-bracket-man. Fear not my frugal friend, just one or two of these items will totally wow her and there are 3 ways to determine which ones she wants the most (media not included here):
1. How long she lingers (this includes the trying on of jewelry and clothes, the longer it's worn, looked at through a window, or danced about in, the more she wants it. Keep a watch handy as accuracy is of the upmost importance.)
2. How many different ways she describes it (this includes any notation of the materials [satin, silk, silver, turquoise, leather], or brands [Coach, Victoria's Secret, Target, Vera Wang], or styles [A-line, Bezel, Newsboy]).
3. How many times she bugs you to look at it and asks you for your opinion on it...("Isn't this cute/interesting/cool/neat/usable[this one i never say myself]/cheap/pretty/enlightening?" "Don't you think this is awesome?" "Don't you think this would look good on me?" "Wouldn't YOU want one?"
Of course, all of the above can be trumped by four simple words: "____ is/are my favorite!!!" In that case, you're totally screwed, so pray that it's cheap or that she won't notice a cheaper imitation of the one she saw.
Now, you don't have to wait all the way till xmas to buy her something she's been wanting. However, you do get like super-major-excess brownie points if you get something she looked at a year ago and play it off like you JUST found it. I like to keep a list of things my BF says he likes and research where i can get them for how much. That way i have a running database of goodies... But i'm a dork so... please make sure the other person doesn't find the list (think tampon boxes and jock strap bags!).
And remember, when you hand her a gift you know she wanted and then (possibly) forgot about, you've done it all just so you can see her smiling face.
~The Toast
The thought had crossed my mind to back-date this entry for January 1st, 2007 to be all cool like "Oh, i update so often, i got online first thing new years day just so i could post to all of you!" but it would come off much more as: "I am so f*cked up from the night before i thought my blog was a trashcan and word-vomited all over it."
Although, i wasn't sick on New Year's, in fact, i was one of the soberest there, second only to the actual DD Nicopolitan (thanks for driving!). The underwear party at Carol's went off without a hitch, that's keeping in mind the enormous amounts of booze that were there. It was awesome. The lovely Erin and Lucas realized they were on the wrong coast and were forced to drive to LA before their souls were lost forever. Don't worry, they've officially been saved through the use of substances and funny college stories.
Hmm, just realized that i can't back date entries so the whole joke in my first paragraph is for naught. Bravo to those who figured it out before me... *shakes fist* you bastards.
~The Toast
toast count: 2, with havarti (i'm a baaaaad vegan wannabe)
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