Last weekend can be summed up in the following conversation:

requiem: You have all this stuff pilled up at the entry way to your room. Even all your pictures are crammed on the walls here. I wish you'd take this butt one down. [Editor's note: If you've been to my house, you know the crazy butt picture.]

GangstaSwan: Why? The butt picture is funny and a good conversation starter.

requiem: No, it's creepy and disgusting. Just like you, Squee. You're creepy and disgusting!

GangstaSwan: Honey, we need to break up.

requiem: [comes back into my room] Fine, but before you start dating again clean all this shit up!

Otherwise we:

Spent six fucking hours at South Coast Plaza (he bought a jacket, a vest and three shirts. I have the privilege of picking up everything but the vest to bring to him in December).

Made spicy stew, drank some Chardonnay and watched "Avatar: The Last Airbender."

Saw the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. The first half was horribly boring, but the second part was really nifty.

Had an expensive dinner at a French restaurant with an amazing butternut squash soup. Seriously, I should have just ordered two bowls of that.

This weekend is going to be boring in comparison, although I am having some kind of spicy food at my friend Melinda's house. That should be fun.

Enjoy Thanksgiving, kids. I'll be working.

This weekend was so fucking crazy busy.

Friday I dragged my friend Vince to the Disney meet and greet. Afterward we had dinner at iHop and discussed relationships. He equated women to manual cars. I thought it was apt.

Saturday I got up early and went grocery shopping with chckpotpie for her birthday brunch the following day. I bought her a $3 whisk as a present. Hey, it's what she wanted.

I went home and took nap while waiting for a call from a childhood friend to go to lunch. She finally called and said we'd meet up in an hour. I zipped over to Huntington and got my nails done then decided to check out Nordstrom's Rack for a gown to wear to this fancy pants black tie donor dinner I have with requiem. Didn't find a dress but left with a killer grey trench coat for $40 (originally $80!). Childhood friend and I had a fabulous lunch wherein we decided we need to do a tour of Napa wineries (requiem, baby can you make that happen? I sort of already volunteered you). I'd definitely like hang out wit her again.

Came home, packed up a box of cooking supplies, zipped over to Nementh and Breezey's place to pick up the ever lovely CharlieLove and headed to Mr. Baudot's housewarming/SCIENCE!! party. We were early but that was good 'cause I made cheese enchiladas. I like baudot's new place but I think I felt more comfortable in his old one. I'm sure I'll get used to this one too.

I crashed at baudot's because I felt sick. Despite not drinking that night I still woke up feeling hung over, meaning I got a late start and got to the birthday brunch super late. Frick. Thankfully chckpotpie did not care. I had a mimosa and a ton of food, got to see her parents' new place (it's amazing, but so huge for just the two of them; I did ask if I could move in). I zipped home, made mashed potatoes and headed over to Koleeta's house for dinner. She's an amazing cook, which is one of the many qualities I love about her. We watched part of "Love Actually," and cried together, then I went back to baudot's to get my phone charger and a couple other things I'd left behind, except my socks (uh, hubby, did you find those by any chance? They're my favorite pair.).

Today I bought a gown for the fancy pants black tie donor dinner. It was $256.45. I cannot believe I spent that much, but hell I look good in it so why not? I noticed that South Coast Plaza smelled like a good cologne today. I wish I knew what it was.

Life has been crazy busy. I'm going to do a photo dump. Enjoy!

Cat Show!

I visited requiem a long ass time ago. I promised to post this picture and forgot. We were walking around Monterey Bay and he decided to get into the water and roll around, but then a bird made a bee line for him and he got out. Here is him playing as the bird got closer:

I also hit up a lovely wedding in San Francisco.

Holy hell "Queer as Folk" is the most wonderful thing ever, except it makes me horny as all get out. It's this guy's fault:



He's just soooooo hot. Holy hell. And don't get me started on this one:




I need a hot fuck now.

Rnadom snippets from life:

I found a roommate.

I earned Karma points.

And now, for something completely different!

Cruise photos under the spoiler:

Admittedly I'm stressed so why are my dreams so weird?

No. 1: I was doing a chick. She was blonde and had pretty pink nipples. She was on top. I'm not sure how I was doing her, but OK.

No. 2: I was dude, I'd flown out to Texas to visit my girlfriend who was living with her mother. When I first get there, her mom and I discuss the housing market. She tells me how much the house across the street is worth, what size it its, etc. I'm doing well on this trip. But then her brother got jealous and drove his truck into the kitchen where we were sitting. It looked like she was stuck under the rubble so I call 911. I get routed to Sacramento's 911 which kept telling me they couldn't help me. Now I'm really upset because I think my girlfriend is dying and 911 won't help so I start crying (not very manly I know). I believe eventually I realize the rubble just missed hitting her.

Maybe I need to be a lesbian?

I'm beginning to suspect no one wants to live with me. I had a few people come by. I called one to ask him to move in yesterday and he never called me back. A woman called last night and I told her I wanted to give this other guy 24 hours to call back. So I called her today and she didn't answer. I left a message but she hasn't called me back.

So here are the options:

Take a bunch of temp and freelance jobs and just pay the rent on my own. Or have my coworker's sister help me get a job with her as a cocktail waitress at a strip club in Garden Grove. I really don't like the idea of having to pay all of this rent on my own. I don't know that I really want a second job. God damnit.

In other news I'm getting increasingly more sexually frustrated. What the fuck.

My newspaper adviser in college once told me:

We were walking back from a meeting on upper campus and I think she was giving me flack for my hair being black (nice rhyme ... ugh). I said something about how I liked it because it allowed me to be anonymous in a crowd, that some how no one seemed to notice me. You have to understand, in the newsroom I have the biggest mouth and I'll say any thing just to get a rise out of people. If I had a particularly good night of sex, the staff knew (not that I announced it, but because someone would ask and hell I'll tell the truth).

She totally had me pegged. I don't like letting people know who I am deep down inside. Fine, see the shallower version of me. Scratch the surface a bit. If youa sk me a direct question, I'll certainly give you an honest answer, but really I don't want to volunteer up my darkest fears.

No one gets to see the real fears and worries, except some very close friends, but even lately, I've felt a tremendous desire to just shut up about any thing that's bothering me. I just feel like if I can just learn to be on my own, to just handle my own problems, everything will be better for everyone.

I've stopped being social lately because I'm almost petrified of putting myself out there. LIke why bother meeting people who I'll eventually tire of? Or worse yet, what if I meet an amazing guy and we seem to hit it off, but then he turns into Everyman and suddenly becomes only concerned with his ability to get PIV? I'd just rather not bother.

This is just a big dumb rambling because I'm upset and can't seem to force myself to sleep. I should really find the mix tape I made while in high school that was all my depression music. The first song was Simon and Garfunkle's "I am a rock." The second I think was SOAD's "Spiderz." Good times in high school with that thing playing over and over.