W00t. I stepped out of work this afternoon and was bathed in Californian snow (wildfire ashes). They're just as pretty as real snowflakes, though they do have the pesky tendancy to, y'know, burn your eyeballs. But hey, real snow doesn't smell as good. It's funny though, because this morning as I was driving to work, I was thinking about two summers ago when the wildfires came close enough for the county sheriffs to order an evacuation (which we all ignored, of course). Could I have smelled the fire this morning without being aware of it? I know I hadn't heard anything about it on the news, and I didn't really notice anything amiss. It's just so weird, because the thought of wildfires was stuck in my head all morning, and when I stepped outside after work, I wasn't really all that surprised to see the billowing wall of smoke rising over the hills.

And to continue on that cheerful note, anyone who gets the chance must see the indipendent film PVC-1. It's based on the true story of a woman in Colombia who was the victim of a bizarre act of terror. A student from my university shot it last year, and I have to admit, it was damn good. It was a huge hit at Cannes and the director is in the process of cleaning it up for the theatrical release. It doesn't have that contrived feeling you get from so many student films, and I can honestly say it's the most 'real' movie I've seen in a long time. The entire movie is one continuous 85 minute take--the director was telling us that as he was shooting the very last image, the camera warned him he had one minute left of tape. The timing of the movie was that precise. I assume it will also be released on DVD, but probably after the theaterical release.

Not my best few weeks ever. Since my last update life has been rather hectic. My 17 year old cat was hospitalized for a bad kidney infection. Being the retarded ass I am, I hadn't bothered to get a new pet health care plan after I discarded the old one, so everything came out to a wee bit over $2,000 for a two-night stay. But I'm happy to say he's bounced back rather beautifully. I'm sure the blood he ingested from by battered, punctured hand (cats, apparently, seem to protest having half a dozen pills shoved down their throats five times a day for a week) had some delightful healing properties. He's back to eating like a horse and chomping down on any hand or cat face that comes between him and his dish. I think I was more traumatized in the long run that he was. I called in sick for the first time in like two years because I was so stressed. I spent most of the past two weeks picking at my food, snapping at anyone who tried to speak to me, and sitting around in my pajamas with my kitty in my lap.

But yeah, when the highlight of your week is crouching next to the litterbox and getting exited because of how well your cat poops, you a) realize why most people use "cat person" as a pejorative and b) decide maybe you DO need a boyfriend.

On a happier note, Star Wars Leggo II is the best DS game evar. If I hadn't had the damn DS to distract me now and then, I think I really would have lost it.

Yays! I just got a Nintendo DS Lite. In Coral Pink, no less. I started playing Animal Crossing, and now I'm so sad because the battery is charging. I already miss my crazy neighbors who all wander around in the middle of the night with shovels and who don't mind if you wander into their homes without knocking. I'm also waiting for Trauma Center: Under the Knife to arrive, so I can hack out organs and perform grotesque medical procedures on helpless patients.

Have I mentioned I love my DS?

I've been lazy, no point in denying it. The furkids and I need to do more walking. The boys have gotten even pudgier than I have, since a Los Angeles summer always convinces them that the only place in the world worth being is that special spot on the staircase where they get hit by both the AC vent and the dining room fan. I think the landing actually has two dog-shaped divots now. Now that the weather has cooled off they actually want to be outside longer than the time it takes them to lift a leg and give me an abused puppy face while panting dramatically. Spoiled? MY dogs? Okay, okay, maybe. But only in the summer when A) I'm too hot and lethargic to do more than glare and B) they damn well know it. Maybe this weekend we'll drive down to the duck pond and go for a short hike. If the water around here wasn't so freaking gross, I'd love to see if they'd enjoy swimming lessons. Eh. What can you do.

I've been trying to think of dog themed stories I could try submitting to Bark, my new obsession. At the least I'll submit some photos to see if the boys get into the Smiling Dogs page.

And not that any of you care, but the most wonderful thunderhead just broke, and it's too awesome a sound to describe. There's nothing more wonderful than a clap of thunder followed by the first patter of rain on your rooftop. Egads, enough with the waxing poetic.

Anyone else wish Lindsay Lohan stayed a cute funny chick instead of turning into a psycho crack whore? They're playing Freaky Friday on the Disney channel, and damn, she used to be such an adorable kid. And why did my university library just pop up in an ad for a new Disney movie? Where the hell was I?

Top five things I really, truly SWEAR to do sometime this week:

1.) Look at more sets. Aside from
Flux and Ember, I haven't looked at any new sets in weeks.
2.) Take my mom out to lunch (added bonus being that I love cruising down Pacific Coast Highway and the streets of Santa Monica with the top down and my hair swept up in a scarf like Grace Kelly, AND that I can visit the Harry Potter store).
3.) Take Bruno to the groomer, because he looks pathetic when I clip him
4.) Write a short story.
5.) Take the dogs somewhere fun.

And see Resident Evil. Okay, six things.

Work has finally done to me what all the years in the public school system couldn't--it crushed my night owl tendencies like a bug I used to be the sort of person who would happily sleep most of the day and stay up until 4 or 5 am. GONE. I can't sleep past 10:00am or so anymore. I'm too used to waking up at 5am and going to bed at 9 the night before. Ick. On the bright side, I'm in a much better mood when I get work out of the way and have the rest of the day to myself.

I've been thinking of applying at Home Depot. They start cashiers at like $10.50, and planogram setters get $15.00 I'm trying to find out what Loss Prevention personel start at.

My birthday (22nd) is next month. Yawn. No special plans. Maybe have some margaritas and try to pick up sailors on shore leave in Port Hueneme Gotta love a boy in uniform. I was going to go down to San Diego for Comic Con, but I just can't afford it. After tickets, hotel, transportation, etc...eh. Not happening. My Mustang eats gas, and all decently priced hotels near the convention center are booked months in advance. Plus I don't want to run into the douche bag ex, no matter how slim the chances. With my luck I'd still bump into him in a sea of thousands.

And yeah, gotta lose some weight. So not fun being startled in the mirror every morning by your naked body. At least my jugs are bigger though...

I'm trying to get pics of my 'stang to post, but my phone is being a bitch a the moment. I also have some ideas for Filthy Dirty Smutty Storytime, but I keep procrastinating. I promise to post one or two strories before the weekend.

For a change, there's some good news on the work front. I'm going to give up my bookkeeping duties in order to be the new price integrity coordinator. I will be condemned to the claustrophobic, Saharan-climed office from hell no longer.

I'm also trying to write out some article samples so I can get some much needed $$ from freelancing. Much as I'd love to concentrate on screenplays and novels, I need something that pays ASAP. And now that school is out, I might do some extra/background work, which will finally get me work on a set, even if in a lowly capacity.

And DAMN I love my fucking new car. But the worst thing about driving a Mustang convertible is being stuck at work and knowing you have a Mustang convertible out in the parking lot, all un-driven and stationary

The car situation has improved. My mom is on good terms with the owner of a dealership in Santa Monica, so he knocked off $2,000 from a great Mustang convertible, bringing the price down to $10,000. I only have to borrow $1,000 from my mom for part of the downpayment, and am financing the rest, so my money issues are no longer dire.

Anyone else love reading through the Adult section of Craig's list? Freaking AWESOME.

This just proves how stupid men are. At least females know to use code words when posting ads for illegal prostitution services on a public web site Though advertising as 'Bookers' isn't quite the level of subterfuge some prostitutes seem to think it is, lol. I think we can assume it's mostly blondes who think they are fooling anyone with that one.

Here's a hint, ladies. Unless he's a male prostitute or a professional athlete, any man who can't spell WANTS, PAID or WORK probably doesn't make enough money to be able to spend 500k on a booker. Unless he's converting his McDonald's earnings into pesos or centavos.


And is it really really really wrong that I want to post a really really really ridiculous ad just to see what kind of weirdoes respond? I mean, I know it is wrong, but what TYPE of wrong? Like, is it just funny wrong, or something serious, like being mean to kittens wrong?

RIP the Black Pearl. My baby, my very first car, my (somewhat ghetto) Benz will be laid to rest soon.

A big FUCK YOU to the Mercedes dealership who charged me $500 to tell me that they didn't think it was worthwhile to fix a car that was only worth about $800. They were such unbelievable douche bags. I dropped my car off after-hours on a Saturday. They never bothered to call me, so I had to call them on Tuesday. The service advisor told me they were still 'just running some tests to see what the problem is,' which I naively took to mean they would contact me before doing anything pricey. The son of a bitch did not bother to mention that I was going to be billed $110 per hour for the diagnostics. And on top of it, they charged me full retail price for new spark plugs, because THEY damaged the BRAND NEW ones I had installed less than a week before. I understand that for Mercedes-Benz, a mere $500 would be considered cheap. But did it not occur to him that if I was driving a 15 year old car with 215,000 miles on it, I PROBABLY wasn't in the best financial situation, and $500 would probably be a lot of money for me?

Everyone gasped in horror when I told them I brought my car to the dealership (on my regular mechanic's advice), telling me Mercedes would rape me for every penny they could. Of course, being so wise in worldly matters, I scoffed at the stereotype of greedy mechanics who do crap like that because they know a lot of chicks just don't know enough about cars to fight back. And what recourse do I have? Diagnostics are a service, not a part--I couldn't demand they undo it. And I put on the envelope when I dropped off my car, 'repairs not to exceed $1,000', so I have no legal recourse. I just assumed that because my regular mechanic calls me with a price estimate before he does anything that expensive, the dealership would extend the same courtesy. So if I'm very very lucky, I may brake even and find someone who'd be willing to pay $500 for a 15 year old car that needs a $3500 valve job to pass smog check (and they can't guarantee it will pass smog even then, it would just improve my chances), with no heating or air conditioning, and no resale value.

My mom had to cash in a money market to loan me money for a 'new' (aka slightly less used) one, which means I'm going to have to take on a second job to pay her back. I now have no hope of moving out in the next two or three years, though my immediate problem is finding an affordable car that won't cause me the same problems as the Benz in a few months. That's at *least* $5,000-$7,000 when I currently make $800 a month ($650 if you take out the money I need for gas to commute to school).

I'm just so damn tired

Dear SG:

I want my f*&^$%#G profile back the way it was.

KTHXBYE.

PS Why do I have a blank testimonial from...myself?

I was driving home from work on Friday when I realized I just wanted to keep driving for a while. Out of nowhere, I decided on the beach. Being the shameful excuse for a Californian that I am, it had been a good two years or so since I'd been to the beach.

So I took Kanan Dume to Malibu, and it was like waking up. I remembered that scene from Firefly, where Mal wonders aloud why River ignored the herd of cattle for the whole month they were in the cargo hold, only to become smitten with them as soon as they were let out. And she replied, "They weren't cows inside. They were waiting to be but they forgot. Now they see sky and they remember what they are." That's how I felt. I walked along the beach and tasted sandy salt on my lips and felt the cool lapping of the tide at my feet and I remembered what I was.

Today I went back, and walked down to the tide pools. I stroked the back of a gorgeous purple Pacific Sea Star, and I let sea anenomies wrap around my fingers, and dug in the sand to hold squiggly little sand crabs. Now all I need is a Grunion Run...

Can you tell I haven't been laid in over a year? I swear I'm not this sappy when I'm getting laid. Someone save me from myself.

School starts next week. I'm hoping to get a new/better job now that Imanaged to put together a class schedule that doesn't eat up the better part of Mon-Fri.