I read in the newspaper that they're selling 300 square foot condos for $196,000 in Belltown (a hip downtown area of Seattle). I almost typed 106,000. Isn't it interesting how a typo at that level makes all the difference?

How can you even live in that? What's the point? Sure. People will buy it. And live there. But 300 square feet? You might as well be in a cage.

I should qualify this entry with the fact that I drank a lot of beer tonight. And the waitress was mean to me. And she asked me if I was planning on drinking the last beer I ordered, which I was. By the way, you shouldn't have to explain to the waitress that when you order a beer it's for you... bitch. So there you go. My life. Not a role model. And down with prohibition. Thank you and good night.

Tonight was the last night of my editing class. Good times. I *may* have gone overboard on the final project. I was the only one who used dividers and a binder and printed a cover with a border. Sometimes I think I am wasted outside of a classroom. (Not just booze-wise) And although the class was pass/fail, I like to think I *passed* just a little more than everybody else. And yes, my moral superiority keeps me warm at night, thank you for asking.

The back of my hand itches. Does that mean anything? I know if my palm itches that means money, and the nose itching, well, I'm about to kiss a fool. But the back of the hand? Is a bitch begging to be smacked up somewhere?

One of the people who was laid off last week left behind an old company mug. Since I had to clean out her office, I claimed it as my own and now I drink tea from it. It makes me happy to pretend that the mug is a metaphor for cannibalism. And now I acquire wisdom via osmosis by drinking bitter green tea from her vulture-picked skull. I am an office warrior. Watch me punch my chests with fists of fire!

On Friday I am taking a personal day to destress (when i start comparing office politics to cannibalism, it's time for a personal day). I plan to do nothing and everything. It is my first day off to spend all by myself I've taken in years. Do not disturb.

This entry is dedicated to George. Because he left a comment. Whoo hoo!

A college friend visited from out of town this weekend. We went to the Penny Arcade Expo (PAX) and it looked like this. We were in all those crowds at different times. I don't think I can express how many people were there or how, when I separated from Jer and his friend, I was literally crushed by people over by some booth that may or may not have been giving out empty bags. But o-o-o they were stylish empty bags, bright green and crisp. Later I got yelled at by a wee lad wearing cat ears on a headband because I didn't drop my purse fast enough. Apparently I fit the profile of a woman who steals game controllers and enjoys being called ma'm.

Then we stood on the street in line for an hour so we could see Tycho and Gabe give a talk, which ended up being completely worth the wait -- also worth the wait was the line and the banter about rogues/paladins/clerics I had to endure with my fellow line mates to prove my nerd cred. There was a girl in particular who was determined to out-geek me, but just because I'm not wearing a shirt with a semi-humorous in-joke on a black background doesn't mean I can't hold my own in a conversation about rogues disarming and avoiding traps by virtue of their dexterity.

I guess I shouldn't brag about that.

Later we drank beer. Does that redeem me?

The night before we watched "Snakes on a Plane." That also involved a lot of beer. I don't actually remember the movie; I remember laughing a lot.

Um. Did I tell you about the layoffs? No? Well, my company had a few layoffs, but I made it through. Last week was kind of tense though. Now I'm on the laptop in front of the television, watching "Eureka."

We don't have hot water. No reason, nothing. All the lights are on, the bills are paid, the water flows, but it never heats up. Our complex has a boiler. It's a big boiler. I've seen it. Is it possible we've been disconnected from this magnificent boiler? That we are now living off the grid?

I know in the grand scheme of things, a hot shower is just another luxury. But it's a luxury I've grown accustomed to. And depend on. To keep me sane. Without hot water, the terrorists win.

Jer and I saw "Nacho Libre" on Friday night and I thought it was hilarious. So there you go.

I feel like it's been ages, just ages. Let's see. I took up the guitar again. I can play a super-minimal version of "Skip to my Lou," and I can almost play a couple chords without my fingers falling off.

My personal trainer told me she's leaving the gym, which makes me sad. I've been seeing her for six months now, and her presence has become a huge part of my exercise routine. I just paid for another block of 10 sessions so I guess I'll have to try out another trainer. But I'm not happy about it. Sure, yeah, I'm happy she's getting out since she's miserable, but it's hard to reverse a lifetime of selfishness and not worry how this move will affect me and my motivation. Also, she never gave me a hard time about my diet. I will miss that about her.

I wrote a little today. First time in awhile. I'm sort of crawling out of a very dark space, hoping the light won't burn my eyes. So we'll see if the groundhog sees its shadow and take it from there.

I'm listening to a lot of "Panic at the Disco!"

I folded a series of 50 origami boxes and strung them on lights for my office. It is festive.

I'm trying to stay up late enough to watch the William Shatner roast on Comedy Central.

And yes, Jer and I are visiting our dear friend Lily in far off fantastic Idaho next month. So, you know, road trip.

That about sums it up.

This is just to say that these weeks have been hard and fraught with emotion but now we are on an upswing.

I saw Soul Asylum play a free concert at Pike Place Market at lunch today. It was fantastic. Then I ate pho. I can almost balance the noodles on my spoon like a proper gentleman.

Also, I am staring at the cover of Marie Claire, where Maggie Gyllenhaal is about to bite into a green apple. You should see it. She is stunning.

Just saw the latest X-Men movie, ate some Mexican food, and drank a few beers at the local brew pub. Stuck in the birthday loop of reflection and mental flogging, listening to "Railroad Man" by the Eels, trying not to beat myself up too much. At least not so much that there are visible bruises. Hard to explain, those.

I sort of feel like I've lost my tether. And I'm being self-destructive just for the fun of it. On the other hand, I've lost 13 pounds since I've started working out, so yay for not dieting, drinking like a fish, and working out when I feel like it. My diet is better than your diet. Only with my diet you're bound to let a few brain cells take one for the team. Survival of the fittest, only the strongest brain cells survive my rigorous training program.

Last night I danced at a small town festival, by myself, and I had a good time. People may have stared and questioned my sobriety, which was one of the few times they needn't bother, but I decided not to care that a small town was judging me shaking my hips. I wanted to shake my hips and so I did. Life's too short to sit on the bleachers and bounce in my seat. When I tried to get some of the zombies to dance with me, they either laughed or tried, so uncomfortably, and then sat down in disgust. It was a matter of principle after that. I was going to dance, badly and proud, and they all were going to watch. They were going to see someone who wasn't afraid to shake their moneymaker and then they could go back to their meth labs and alley fights and fuck you small town USA. I danced.

I choose to rebel against the oddest things.

all about me

Happy Birthday to me!

My editing class is going well. I'm getting weighed and measured at the gym tomorrow to check my progress. It's been a busy week, and I haven't made concrete plans for the evening festivities. I'm thinking today I will eat Mexican food. I will seek it out and I will consume it. I will join a friend for a brief drink and then I will ride the boat home and maybe eat more Mexican food. I am drinking a zip fizz, which is an energy drink in the form of powder you add to water, and waiting for the high to kick in. I am feeling spent from my workout this morning, so you know, citrus flavored water, is the way to go.

Have an excellent Thursday, all.

I admit, I've been drinking. And I repeat, not a role model. And I quote: I am the hero of my own shit. Another person left today, work, and I attended the wake and I drank my share and I quit out to run on the treadmill and then I returned. Sad. People. Forced into change that isn't necessary because no one thinks things through. We only look at the numbers for today and not the numbers for a quarter from now. I am tired. I am broken. And I keep going and attempting to be innovative and fun but there are only so many white Russians in the world. Only so many I can drink before I make myself sick.

Didn't sleep well again. I assume it was an accident but I got bopped hard on the shoulder in the night, which woke me up to FULL ALERT, and so I spent the rest of the night on the couch. Sometimes the cats visited, but mostly I just drifted in and out of light sleep, never fully turning off my thoughts. I'm drinking green tea now in the hopes it has a favorable effect. I can't keep up like this. I need to sleep again.

A friend visited over the weekend and we did lots of touristy things. And also ate too much. I've been doing the gym thing to make up for it; I have an appointment with my trainer tonight. Started an editing class at the community college. It'll run five weeks. Good group.

Guess I'm going through a slump right now. I don't feel much like doing anything and even less like talking about it.