Broke As a Bad Joke

seriously, though, if Bill Gates is reading this, can you please send me some money? i mean, you probably won't miss it at all given that you're a kazillionaire. and we're not talking THAT much, maybe 10K or 20K, which i can stretch out until i become gainfully employed. is that so unreasonable?

july has been a total wash workwise. no inputting of funds, only output. i've been trying to keep all expenditures at a minimum -- which is challenging, given my party lifestyle. the dorks in culver city i usually work with once a month suddenly had no july budget for me, so there went my greatest chunk of monthly cash. i would often supplement that with the odd copy-editing job found on craigslist, but nope, none of those seem to be working out either. so i've just been dipping into my pathetic little savings account, promising myself that i'll replenish it once the work starts flowing again.

but it makes me nervous. i hate being broke. i pinch pennies, complain about money, eyeball the price of everything. i feel like a punk. i'm not usually a tightwad, despite being jewish. so i've been busy trying to sell my useless shit on craigslist for a bit of extra cash. i sold the never-used doghouse that i was sure juice would love. she was terrified of the thing, never once stepped into it, even after i threw her blanket and countless biscuits into it. and i have someone buying up all the unopened alcohol that was left over from my bday party. i've also lined up an odd job teaching some lady QuarkXpress for a few hours. might have a few other odd jobs lined up for july, as i've gone on a few interviews.

but otherwise, nada, zip, zilch on the dough front. damn, i miss those monthly stipend checks USC used to send me. i would get $1,600 a month just for being a great student -- which, i was, kids: 3.75 GPA upon graduation. isn't there some kind of lifetime scholarship someone can win just for being a great human being? not that i would necessarily qualify, but still.

the good news is that august should hold nothing but work, work, work. i've got a temporary office job lined up for the first three weeks of the month, which is fabulous except for the hours: a ghastly 6am-3pm. and on some afternoons, i'll likely have to skedaddle to culver city to work with aforementioned dorks, who've said they'll need me again next month. ah, nothing like a 12-hour workday to remind you you're alive.

but in the meantime, i've had plenty of idle time to waste. my big purchase for july was an external hard-drive (80 gigs, baby!) for this here iBook, which was becoming ridiculously slow -- like, dial-up slow. so i shifted some stuff around and have been working on importing my 300 CDs into iTunes, which i will hook up to some phat speakers once i get the money to buy them. i've also been spending mornings at runyon canyon park, doing free yoga and going on hikes. afternoons usually hold a long, lazy shower; some homemade grub and coffee; and then lying down with a good book, often in the hammock justin (aka yogaman) kindly bought me for my birthday. evenings generally hold QT with justin on the cheap -- home-cooked dinners, a DVD rental and/or game of scrabble or rummikub. nighttime consists of...well, you can imagine...and then a relaxing sleep. all to be repeated at 9 am when my alarm goes off.

ok, so life's not so bad after all.

My 28th Birthday Party

choose your booze: the bar was fully stocked and provided many alcoholic leftovers.


'it's my party': and i'll get as drunk as i want to.


the dynamic duo: Zee and Nick


lip service: Raidis puckers up porno style.


yogaman unveiled: Me with my (ahem) new boyfriend Justin.


dig my yard! Saba, Chris, Raidis, Justin.


ex's can get along: Juancho with his soon-to-be ex-wife Kiana.


the girl at the end of the alphabet: Zee and her beautiful bedroom eyes.


the furry chaperone: Juice had a good time, too.


hey, ladies: Chris is single.


whereas... Justin is not (and neither am I).


she calls me 'chinadoll': thanks for the wine glasses, Alsy.


my fellow M.A.s in journalism: Melissa (aka Gonzo) and Grace.


dig my living room! we move the ruckus indoors.


few are funnier: than Stevie (pictured with me) after a few cocktails.


fedoras and coronas: Nick parties in style.


burnt by the sun: Kiana's been incredibly tan lately.


my cream dream: ain't he cute?


the coolest gift ever: thanks to Garron for the Aztec thingy here.

When Worlds Collide

ok, thought of a story to share with y'all, one that i wasn't going to put up here initially, but what the hell? it's kind of amusing in a pathetic way.

i ran into the ex the other day at a starbucks in hollywood. yogaman and i were just hanging out, getting some midday coffee. he walks out to find a table outdoors where we can sit, sip and smoke. i'm just a few paces behind him, and i then i freeze, instantly recognizing pablo's meaty neck and bald spot. i look to his right and see his new girlfriend -- this crazy chick who lived in our old building. her dog is there, too, a huge mastiff named bella. he's with his new family and i look like hell -- wearing sweats, hair pulled back, no makeup. i stop to catch my breath. i had imagined this moment countless times before, played out various scenarios of maybe me mad-dogging her, perhaps smacking him with some biting and pithy statement.

and here it is, the golden opportunity laid before me, and all i can do is panic. it was a serious panic, as if i were in the midst of a terrorist attack. this crazy dread washes over me, making me want to both throw up and pass out. fight or flight. i feel my hand shake and grip my coffee tighter. why am i reacting so strongly? i'm at a loss, at a complete standstill just two feet away from the door, watching yogaman unknowingly get situated at the table directly in front of where my ex-boyfriend is sitting with his new girlfriend and her fucking dog.

i make my move. i dart out the door and grab yogaman's hand, pulling him onto the sidewalk and away from the starbucks. "we have to go. we can't stay," i must have said in rapidfire about three or four times while trying not to hyperventilate. i turn my head and lock eyes with pablo. he offers up an awkward smile and takes a drag off his cigarette. i don't look at her, but give her dog a once over.

the whole exchange must have lasted five seconds, but it played out in slow motion. five minutes later, yogaman and i are sitting at a coffee shop down the street. i explain what happened, probably very poorly, and then i get very, very quiet. he stares at me intently, tries to tell a story, change the subject, but i'm consumed by it for a good half hour. finally, he asks, "you still hung up on your ex?"

truthfully, i'm not hung up on him, i'm hung up on it -- the betrayal, the wasted time, the feeling that i spent four years with a stranger, deluding myself. i want out and over it, i really do. i don't want to be that girl with issues. those were the kinds of girls i would ridicule for being less self-possessed, but here i am with my very own set of hang-ups. they'll dissipate with time, won't they? i can't have them roaming around so freely in my brain, weighing me down, causing me to second-guess myself. i must purge them. i WILL purge them, damnit. i simply have no other choice.

(No Subject)

ack, i've been so miserable at blogging lately, but intend to kick it into high gear -- which i've said before and never delivered, but no, really. problem is that i just don't have much to say. i don't want to fill this space with mundane details of my lame-O existence or deposit random ramblings that have (what i hope to be) undertones of profundity. that's a great word, huh? PRO-FUN-DI-TY. sounds like it could be a carnvial ride or something. Puffy should have changed his name to P. Fundity.

anyhow, i'd rather use this space for stories -- good ones, mine and yours -- but given that i'm super short on cash and have been nesting with yogaman lately, i haven't been out and about getting into trouble like i used to. there is a photo essay on my birthday party from last weekend forthcoming. and hopefully there'll be good news from the job front to share.

but for now, it's time for my midday cup of coffee and then a shower.