i swear to god my dad makes the strongest margaritas. i swear to god i'm about to pass out. and it's...... its only 712 721 pm. holylord. why did i come down here.. oh to get cd. oh there it is! i like typing.

the age of innocence

you know what really sucks about getting older? is that slowly -- slowly to the point that, at first, you're not conscious of it (this is my job - to make you conscious of it) -- you stop being able to say, "gee, when i grow up, i'm going to be _____."

blank could be (could have been?): a rocket scientist. famous. a ROCKSTAR. better. an astronaut. Rich. tiger woods. tiger woods' caddy.

but alas, eventually, we'll be there - grown up, i guess. And we'll look to the left of us and the right of us and forward for a second, and finally behind. And we'll wonder when we got so tall.. when the future stopped seeming so endless. and all of us wizened and murmuring to ourselves, "well, then. that was interesting."

well, maybe not. we could get hit by a bus first. one really big bus.

ace

i had something terrible happen last friday (sarcastically terrible; no worries), which i wanted to recount, but right now am surrounded by digital HOTness. mark philippoussis?? wills and harry?! NBC, I forgive you for the terrible overall concept of ‘Age of Love’ and also for telling the 20-somethings to hula hoop in their sports bras and 4” heels. and then also for casting 20-somethings who would compliantly hula hoop in their sports bras and 4” heels on national television. Stop trying to appease the male viewers. The only men who are watching the same shit we are are the ones who are being forced to do so by their wives/girlfriends and who fall into the 1-television-per-household demographic.

NBC, I even forgive you for the deceitful editing and the crappy cuts to commercials. (who still messes that up?) Why – 1) because my infatuation with boy tennis players makes me smile like a school girl with a crush every time you (sloppily) cut to Mark’s pretty Greek face, and 2) because of Wills and Harry in HD. They are a tribute to Princess Di’s (god rest her soul) overarching beauty, considering that the other half of their DNA came from someone who reminds me of a political-cartoon-sketched W crossed with Mr. Rogers (god rest his soul). Also a tribute to her overall goodness, in all seriousness.

So, I will even forgive you for ‘Deal or No Deal’ (that wholly brainless, talentless, lacking of any substance, only evoking the same thought in Americans cross-country: ‘I really want to watch this because I have to see WHAT is in briefcase #5 my GOD what if it is the million! but maybe she should just take the deal good lord that girl’s bulimia problem make her fake tits look HUGE and red would be a superb color for a traveling choir of playmates OH it’s the million haa sucks for her I would’ve guessed so much smarter.’) if you make a new episode of Age of Love and put Novak Djokovic on there (if you look him up, just remember that tennis has this fantastic way of making everyone look like mentally disabled amoebas in action shots) and cast me. I’ll let the 20-year-old help me with my backhand slice, and I’ll do his taxes. BAM, I’m impressive.

in an uptown world

goals since moving uptown:

- procure futon so do not have laborious duty of blowing up air mattress while intoxicated

- strive to convince all friends to also move Uptown, so as eventually to form the Yuppie College-Has-beens Campus. YCHBC.

- try not to look so much like a yuppie when walking past brothers sipping on paper-bagged alcohol

- actually make it to the polls to show undying support of no new property taxes (vote for sales tax! residents shouldn’t be penalized!! and the light rail is NOT a waste! it’s cool, if nothing else.)

- find as many ways possible to get to Alive After 5 without walking past the transportation center (DEATH trap)

- lobby for an Uptown Cook Out (at least a Wendy’s? with frosty’s??)

- overcome fear of hand seats at Bfast club. some call it irrational. I call it innate.