For breakfast I ate potato chips, a trick-or-treat size bag of M&M's, and drank a can of diet Dr. Pepper.

And I only feel a little guilty.

I'm sitting here wishing I could go out for breakfast, but Jer's still asleep. If I went, I'd probably hear about it later. Plus, he's sick. Maybe if I brought him back something eggy?

Or maybe I'll just drink a Bloody Mary and fold laundry.

This whole being a grown-up thing sure is a mixed bag.

On Thursday night, Jer and I went to hear Regina Spektor at the Moore Theatre. It was an awesome show. She was mostly onstage by herself, but about halfway through a band joined her to do songs from "Begin to Hope." The only thing I didn't like was all the flash photography, which was distracting. Other than that, it was a way better show than Chop Suey. I could see her and the bar was outside the womens' restroom, and it was a great crowd.

This afternoon I went to see the Dead Sea Scrolls at the Pacific Science Center. Then I drank pumpkin ale at the Elysian Brewery. Tasty. It was an interesting exhibit, and I got to see scraps of parchment that constitute the scrolls along with banners indicating translation. The crowd was fairly courteous, and I saw a large map of the planet fall off the wall and narrowly miss hitting a patron. That was cool.

In music news, I'm listening to a lot of Brendan Benson and also Steve Burns.

There are other things I'd rather be doing than sitting here, preparing for an evening at home. But yeah. So it goes.

I am full of words I can't use, which makes updating difficult. In other words, I'm navigating the waters of propriety. And I'm a lousy navigator.

I just bought a ticket to hear Stephen King speak on November 1. That cheers me up, by gum!

I saw a couple plays this week, "Tick, Tick... Boom!" and "Company." Tomorrow I'll see "The Underpants." Started going back to the gym, was sore, and took another break. That's pretty much it. Also, I mailed a play to a contest.

I am attempting to break the habit of beginning sentences with the word, "there," but it's hard.

There is a cat in my lap. She purrs.

A cat purrs in my lap.

The petticoat and wig that goes with my costume arrived in the mail. Fits perfect, and now my costume is complete.

I don't have anything to say. Just checking in. Time for a shower.

Jer: Finish your wine.
Me: I'm trying to sip it for once. You want me to be an alcoholic?
Jer: When it's convenient.

slippery slippery slope

One problem with being stubborn is that I'm perfectly happy to sit and stare at the wall instead of doing what needs to be done. Frankly, I already told me that I'm bored with this and I don't care if it gets done evah. But then the other part of me? The part that's even more stubborn? That part is like, you are not allowed to get up until you get your shit done. And then there's some other voices that suggest compromise. "Say, why don't we update the blog again?" Or, "Let's sort some laundry. Surely THAT'S allowed." Or "You just got paid. You should buy that Toothpaste for Dinner shirt you've been wanting. Heck, buy 4. You deserve it."

I even did sit-ups to get out of working. Sit-ups! And I made breakfast. And I sorted all my laundry, even the dry cleaning stuff.

Stupid stupid stupid. If I just did the work and got it over with I could get up. But I don't wanna do it and you can't make me.

That, in a nutshell, is one problem with being stubborn.

costume alert

If you find yourself in need of a pair of white girlie lacey ankle socks, I point you to the girls' section of Target. I can assure you that even though they're marketed to little girls, the socks'll fit most adult sizes fine. And no, there's nothing sketchy about that at all. Not at all.

Also, Payless is having one of their BOGO sales. If, say, you needed some black Mary Janes to go with your Little Red Riding Hood costume, that's the place for you.

And lastly, buycostumes.com is the perfect place for all your petticoat and blonde ringlet wig needs.

Don't forget Flava of Love tonight! Yeah, baby, yeah.

PS Today is anti-substance Sunday. So, you know, bring it. Hard and often.

It's Saturday morning and I'm sitting on the floor, at the coffee table, in front of my laptop. I'm doing work stuff, sort of, when I'm not feeling like a martyr and trying to get the internet to recognize my grand commitment to career and real-time adherence. This hasn't been the best week. I acted like a jackass on more than one occasion. I drank too much. I ate too much. And by Friday I decided I have to wrap up this current Age of Gluttony and move on to healthier things. Or be doomed.

It's slow going so far. But I'm trying.

I reorganized my finances so I can pay off my photography school loan at the end of this year. That's a $17K weight off my shoulders. It's like I bought a car that no one else can see, an imaginary car that talks about f-stops and filters instead of driving anywhere. At least it's fuel efficient, not existing and all, but I sure do wish that money went to something tangible.

Here's my Halloween costume. I bought it cheap on ebay, but who's counting? I also bought a basket that came with a wolf's head and a pair of black Mary Janes. It's going to be totally sweet. (In the interest of full disclosure, I also bought this costume, but it's a little too short for the office. I like it because it gives me an excuse to drink wine all day.)

Lastly, I stayed home sick on Wednesday because everytime I tried to stand I nearly fainted. But now I'm better. The end.

October 9, 2006. Seattle.

Jer and I went to the Everett Sausage Festival yesterday and ate sausage. It was a pretty large festival, lots of carnival games and arts and crafts booths. We had a tasty slice of chocolate cream pie and explored Everett a little. It was good to get out.

I'm having a hard time getting started this morning, er afternoon. I was up early to do work stuff, but then I got bored and made a hot dog. I'm still hungry, which means I have to make myself something else. I know there are eggs, hashbrowns, and pork sausage, but it seems like an awful lot of work.

I need some cheese to go with my whine.

But only if it's brie.

Tuesday, October 3, 2006. Sunset from my balcony.

I have no opportunity to wear Halloween costumes, and yet I covet them. I may have even bought one and am bidding on another. Don't you think I'd make an excellent little red riding hood? And not the PC one, oh no, the original. The real question is: do I have the balls to wear it in public? And on public transit, no less?

I threw my head around a little too much. Also, in my immaturity, I threw my elbows into the sides of a few people who got in my way. But I promise, they started it. That is the short version of my evening.

In the slightly longer version, we overshoot our exit and consult a road atlas. We start drinking rum in the hotel room and head over to dinner about 9. We enjoy an excellent meal, and then head over to the bar, which is over-full and we stand in the hallway for about fifteen minutes until the head waitress looks away and we sneak in. We dance in front of a speaker for many many hours. Then go back to the hotel, have a couple more drinks, and then collapse. This morning we had another excellent meal and then headed back home.

Now I am popping Tylenol and wrapped in a heating pad. Because although I like to think I can party like a rockstar, I can't. Pass me the Icy Hot.