it's thursday. it's thursday morning. it's thursday, January 3rd, 2002.

It's been a long time. Shouldn'ta left you. Without a dope post to read through.

I'll stop now.

Let me mention now that I had 200 friends posts and I probably read about 60% of them thoroughly. Don't hate. I did my best.

Let me also mention that I sliced the fuck out of my left index finger while removing some glass from a frame, so my typing is slower and less accurate. My left hand is also sore from compensating from the loss of the strongest link. Bear with me.

Here's the free association rundown of the past 5 days. I may try to include reference points.

In the beginning, there are lessons that must be learned and retained:

- Polaroids make excellent wallpaper.
- San Franciso really does grow better queers. Even any transphobic ones.
- Dishwashing rubber gloves do not offer adequate protection from sharp plates of glass.
- When I had a premonition of a possible injury, I should believe it will happen, rather than believe it WONT happen simply because I saw it coming.
- Fresh artichokes make everything better.
- Living room throw pillows make for excellent naps but horrible night's sleep, according to my back.
- Layovers are even worse when they occur in airports that are not actually located BETWEEN your two destinations.
- Even when enough REM sleep is had, if it occurs while the body is not horizontal or full outstretched, I'll still feel like shit.
- Certain friends (or at least one specific one who recently relocated to San Fran) never lose their appeal and my admiration and adoration.

Now the brief rundown.
Saturday: Differently Paced Coworker's party. Hanging out with Damon. MelRo's return and our gift exchange.
Sunday: Sleep-in. Go to airport. Arrive in San Fran. Miraculously find bus.
Monday: Walk around Mission. Buy books, but not the one I want which is actually located on the roommate's bookshelf. (coincidence? in the same said roommate's bed, I had my first lucid dream since actually trying to have them. you decide.) Visited Good Vibrations, and I'm now a Champ(ion) (which later got the seal of approval from two parties, myself included). Watched "Out of Sight". Cooked elaborate fabulous meal. Ate with fabulous folks. Watched several New Year's come in various locations. Perhaps didn't get drunk enough, but only out of lazyness.
Tuesday: Sleep-in. Eat leftovers. MelRo's Hyperactive Super Friend comes over. Eat leftovers. Go back to Berkeley and out to dinner with other college friends of MelRo's. Come home. Sleep off and on to VH1 through the night.
Wednesday: Car. Plane. Chinese food-court food. Plane. Car. Grocery store. Home.

Oh, and the New Year's included Bob. Two o' them. U.K. Bob. And BOB 2: More Rockin Less Talkin.

Last night I watched what used to be one of my favorite episodes of ST:TNG. Man, did it suck. What a letdown. 'Am I going too fast for you?' 'No, I'm going too fast for me.'

In the previously mentioned lucid dream on New Year's Eve night, it happened near the end of a dream starring Riley and Vanessa. I was at Riley's family's house. Then we were in a car going somewhere. In the middle of the car ride, I announced that I had discovered that i was dreaming and that I wasn't in the car but asleep in a stranger's bed in san francisco. Everyone in the car just looked at me as if to say "so what?" Then I didn't wake up. Nor did I have any insight as to where the dream was taking me, so I freaked out and stopped being lucid. Later on, I became lucid again when I was trying to get a lesbian orgy going.

Yeah. I know.

And my co-worker said to me at 9:15 "You look tired." Yeah, probably. But I'm too exhausted to notice. Luckily it's a short work-week and tonight I can sleep again. It was a great whirlwind time, but I'm happy to be back home, even if the apartment is a mess. That's for later.

fucking fantastic idea

from MSN.com's astrology website:

Make your 2002 anti-resolution

We all make New Year's resolutions.
Denying ourselves something makes
us feel like we're growing up,
becoming a better person, resisting
temptation. And in astrology, the
planet that rules New Year's
resolutions is the ringed planet,
Saturn, the cosmic regulator of all
limitations and commitments to
self-denial.

But you know what? Sometimes self-denial is overrated. This
year, maybe an anti-resolution -- a promise to do something as
often and passionately as possible -- will come in handier!

For anti-resolutions, we shift our gaze from Saturn to giant
Jupiter, the planet where the action never stops. In 2002,
Jupiter will be moving through Cancer and Leo -- and sending
you a personal signal about areas where you might benefit
from being the most excessive.

Let's take a look at how anti-resolutions will encourage each
sign to live it up in '02! ( Read more... )

Who's your housekeeper, whatchu keep in your house?

I forgot my new line from the weekend:

"Are there any USAers in the house tonight? any USAers?"

It's funnier when said aloud. Also funnier when I say it, of course. As stuey said "I crack my shit up." And we do. Yes, we do.

Sometimes I have great sex and I don't appreciate it and then I feel guilty for not appreciating it. And by appreciating, I mean, there are people starving in the former Yugoslavia, so I should be thrilled on behalf of folks who aren't and why am I acting so blase about it? This makes no sense.

And by the way, no. No livejournalers were in my previously mentioned dream attempt at lesbian orgy, with the exception of my Special Lady Friend. It's actually a rare occasion that MelRo shows up in sex dreams. I don't have many sex dreams though. But the attempted orgy did include a brief break from the action when I had to explain to the lesbians about my "trans thing". And I recall it went remarkably well. Hmm. I seem to recall my saying something to the effect of "look, just fck me like you would a butch, but call me 'ray' and 'he'." And they all nodded in agreement like they knew exactly what was going on.

A Person recently remarked that she looks forward to the day when she can say "What's HER problem?" regarding me (in a gay way, obviously) and it's not remotely problematic. Me too. I can't wait to be a 'Mary' and a 'girl' in a fairy fag way and the double entendre is funny and not weird or awkward or possibly inducing a downward spiral into feelings of hatred and doom about my body and identity. Ok, maybe it's not that bad. But maybe it is and I'm just ignoring myself. Maybe I'm not in touch with my own oppression. Or maybe, like my family, it's too big for me to even deal with it, so I ignore it. But if you ignore your teeth, they'll go away.

I promise I have not been sippin' on sizzurp today. I've watched plenty ot Waltussin get consumed recently, but not by me. I can't readily explain my weird mood and how my mind is working right now. Other than things are extremely non-linear. And fun. Goddamn, things are fun right now. Even the fcked up shit. Why is that?

In unrelated news, I've been wanting chest surgery very very very badly lately.

In earth news, my work review is being postponed until the first week of February when a decision will be made on raises and if the freeze will end. I received a tip from devo at a party that we've had an "extremely good december", so perhaps all will be fine.

In other work news, the part of Mr. Mister is now being played by Former Office Founder who doesn't get a more clever nickname because I don't have a read on her personality yet. Though she seems very nice and capable and chill. Those sound like boring adjectives, yet so rare in managers these days.

My Presto Multi-cooker did not arrive on schedule today. But my game of Encore did. As did my copy of Best in Show. I think I know what I'll be doing tonight.