Month: November 2003

It’s around 11:30 and I can’t sleep.

I feel like I have a story inside of me to write and in which I did but because I am frustrated with it… I can’t sleep.

I know exactly where I want my story to go, what I want to do with the characters, their downfalls and such and yet, the tediousness of doing in script form is sort of daunting, I think. I wish I can think my script and have it go on the page without the formalities of a slug line or conveying every action and knowing what their actions mean versus what they are saying in dialogue.

The cool thing about script writing is that nobody really says what they mean. To figure out peoples’ intentions, what they MEANT to say versus what they really said and how actions really truly scream louder than words. My protagonist doesn’t talk much, she very much observes and in return, she gets lost in her observations and forgets that she needs to live her own life instead of vicariously living thorugh others.

Something like that anyway.

I guess I can say I can say what I’m writing can be shallow or self-serving but in essence, I see it as more of a catharsis..and my mind is much clearer now and I’m able to detach myself and believe this is another character which has facets of myself.

and if you would believe it, I really truly think everyday, “could I be happy with this? Can I be happy with this job for the rest of my life and just marry someone and be happy in love and life and such? Do I have to be a filmmaker?”

And every single time, it is no. I feel inwardly incomplete when I feel I am not doing something in the artistic vein. There is something about the process of filmmaking and film shoots that satisfies me that nothing else can.

And in the cheesy words of spider-man (long live tobey maguire) “it is my blessing, it is my curse.”

I swear up and down that I wish that I could just be satisfied with making just enough money and having just enough friends and basically having “just enough” to be complacent. But I can’t. I can’t stop chasing the dream that many of my peers have given up long ago. I can’t stop this stupid hunger to WANT IT THAT BAD.

The tediousness of film shoots. The frustration of writes and re-writes. Egos all around. And yet..and yet, I miss it all. I miss that part of myself that has not emerged in San Diego yet. The “filmmaker” part of myself was left behind in New York. Unfortunately, I awakened a sort of demon in me that refuses to settle.

Thus, with all my aforementioned ramblings, it is obvious why I can’t sleep. I just want to get my film done. I want to do my life MY WAY. I want ultimate control. <—– probably my biggest issue.

Eh. Anyway, I’m going to attempt to sleep once again yo. until next time, let the sleigh bells ring a dingaling ling a lingaling… (okay, i forget the words)

giddy up giddy up giddy up let’s go
Let’s play in the snow
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blaaaahhh

giddy up giddy up giddy up it’s grand
just holding your hand.

Speaking of holding hands, did you know that I’ve only held hands with guys a total of FIVE TIMES? Can you believe it? I guess i attract non-holding hands guys (each time was in the infant stage of the pseudo relationship)

sorry, sidenote.

Anyway, I’m going to try to sleep and bore myself to death. Maybe write a bit more OR SOMETHING GODDAMNIT

Song quote of the night (he is a sexy one)

“I can let my life pass me by
or I can sit down and try
and work it all out this lifetime, lifetime”

Every thanksgiving, I watch the x-files marathon.

That’s cause I’m cool like that.

You know what’s evil? All these shows I’ve taped (friends and x-files..okay two shows) are now on dvd AND they have scenes that I don’t have (little scenes that were edited for time and commercials and stuff). Do you realize that shows are mostly 20 minutes long? Technically 22 but essentially, we are watching a 20 minute show.

Anyway, I’m not having turkey but I’ll be damned if I don’t get my pumpkin pie.

PUMPKIN PIE!!!! (ARGH< they’re coming out with South Park on dvd)

sniff…I wonder what I’ll get for christmas (guilt trip guilt trip)

I am caught up with all of my files at work.

I had lunch with a friend, Spencer, that I became reacquainted with. I have known this guy since the third grade. The third grade.

We went to go have some Carne Asada Chips (which, I believe is a San Diego specific menu item) and he said that I was high strung.

High Strung?

He explained, not high strung in a drug addict type of way. High strung as in I am constantly on the go, constantly doing something. He wonders how I do it.

I sort of wonder myself.

My usual day consists of this:

Wake up. –Depending how early or late I wake up will depend on the look of the day…hair up or hair down and straightened? Glasses or contacts? Makeup or au natural. I try to avoid au natural because I tend to look haggard and dead. But that’s a different entry.

I also watch a part of a movie. This week, I am watching The Two Towers, Extended Version. On this particular morning, I watched the part where Boromir’s brother can show his “quality”. I watch about 20 minutes every morning.

Go to Job Number 1: I work at a law firm. I do legal secretarial work and some paralegal activities. Depending on the season, I’m either crazy busy or have a copious amount of free time to loiter with the internet gnomes. I would rather be busy because the time flies faster but we all cannot have what we want, can we?

Go to lunch: This usually consists of either a) running errands with my friend Jill b) purchasing a chicken dish of some sort or c) having lunch with either Tyler, Wilbur, Gina or Alfred. Yesterday, I had lunch with my best friend Jirrah who came down into town the night before (more on that later as well)

Go back to work: And write an astonishing amount of emails that essentially say nothing.

After 5pm, I do either of the following:

go to job number 2 (Starbucks) until midnight. Get home at 1 a.m. Watch a movie (yes, I’m obsessed)..usually with commentary on. Fall asleep with my television and stereo (I always watch my movies in stereo. I hooked up my dvd player, television and stereo in synchorcity) on timer for 90 minutes.

have dinner with a friend. Last night it was Mr. Abercrombie and Fitch model himself, Wilbur. We went to shop for watches for a couple of hours. We were at Macy’s for about an hour with him, trying–feeling–the watch. He just stood there, posing with the watch. And of course, I gave him shit for it.

*go home, chat online, think about cleaning my room, paying my bills or making my bed.

Usually, I do the latter two in conjunction. I go home and then have a late dinner of some sort.

I suppose I usually have a full day—which you would have never guessed by my frequent appearances on the internet but I get so bored so easily.

Gumphood once commented on this and said I was a “worker”. Spencer commented on this and said “What the hell do you do in your free time?”

Sleep. Sleep and sleep.

However, I can’t sleep past 6 hours. So I have to break them up in shifts.

The cool thing about my schedule is that I see my friends in shifts. So EVERY time I hang out with a friend, it’s always “long time no see! What the hell have you been doing?” I satisfy two birds with a rock or something. I keep up with my friends whom I love and care about but, I also do not overexpose and have something to talk about.

The social life, as of late, has upped twice as much than usual because of my impending move to the East Coast. Hence, for you diaryland saavy people, have to put up with my intermittent updates.

Back to the lunch with Spencer..

We went to Best Buy (so I can purchase my four disk set of The Two Towers) and I asked him “Do I still look the same?”

And he said “yeah”

I took an imaginary sword and stabbed it through my imaginary heart.

He asked why I made a Greek Tragedy of it all.

My goal, when I was in the seventh grade, was to be a triple threat–gorgeous, smart, successful. Hmm.

In fulfilling this goal, I noticed one thing: Guys don’t want to date a triple threat. Low self-esteem bastards.

Anyway, so I explained him my goal and said “well, if I still look the same, I haven’t really accomplished anything”

And he retracted his comment and said “No, you look the same but you filled out nicely. This is not a come on in any way, but you are FINE. Like FOINE (I hate when people say Fine as in FOINE). You are a hot woman.”

His roommate chimed in (who accompanied us) “Well, I’m going to pimp you and say this is a come-on.. You ARE a good looking person. Actually you’re sort of a paradox”

If I’m so hot, why aren’t I fighting off guys with a stick? Why am I a paradox?

Spencer: “You are not fighting off of a stick because..and don’t take this the wrong way, you are intimidating”

Intimidating?

Spencer: “Intimidating because you carry with yourself with a self assurance and a subtle confidence. This would intimidate a lesser man”

Roommate (dude, where’s his name?): “You’re a paradox because you carry yourself and come off with this confidence, yet you question your looks, where obviously, the consensus has decided you are good looking”

Must be a lot of lesser men out there.

However, fueled with this information, I still don’t I can pull off “I”m hot and you’re not bitch” mentality. I wouldn’t be able to pull off the lipstick, the high heels or the halter top. I think when you’re known as the “funny” one in the group, your mentality about your hotness calculates to be inversely proportional. Hence, funny is not hot and vice versa.

I mean, REALLY, how many hot, funny women can you name? Usually their hotness serves one purpose.

And don’t make me iterate what that one purpose is.

But, that was a good conversation to be had. This might have been a biased conversation, knowing, that Spencer had a crush on me once-upon-a-time but he just gives me something to write an entry about.

Anyway, I would rather be funny than gorgeous, because gorgeous is too hard. (Gilda Radner said that).

My next entry: the roommate that is Gumphood. Oh yes, and I pictures too! This will be your Thanksgiving treat.

P.S. For the people who don’t have access to note leaving (i.e. non diaryland member who actually read this [I was given this information recently]) I will be going supergold at the end of this day.

Yeah, I’m fucking lame. Who fucking cares.

Fuck you.

Post script: Wow, I ended this all hostile and shit. WEST COAST! (hahahaha)

You know what I’ve always wondered about?

Why do we have eyebrows?

I mean, okay I understand eyelashes, to block out dusties and such but what do eyebrows block out? I’m sure if our society was accostomed to non-eyebrow peoples, we would think it was pretty cool. But in essence, I really don’t see what eyebrows protect…maybe it would slow down the rain pouring down our face but it’s not like I say, “Wow, thank god for eyebrows, if it wasn’t there, that rain would’ve slipped down my face a milisecond faster”

Yes, I know eyebrows are pertinent to facial expressions but if we didn’t have eyebrow hair, you would still see the eyebrow muscles, which I would think work just as well.

and what’s up with armpit hair? I don’t think it would hurt TOO much to do without it. and..isn’t are ARM there (with it’s appropriate small arm HAIR) to protect our armpits for such things? Maybe to slow down the sweat?

I don’t know, I think the human body has a bit too much hair for our being. I guess it would make sense if we were cavemen.

But really, I don’t lining my brows with any eyebrow liner which brings about this aforementioned question.

p.s. I love monty python and the holy grail.
p.p.s. I love lotr more though. GODDAMNIT. I CAN’T WAIT ANY LONGER!!!

I’m too tired to update with anything cool (I say this as if I actually update with anything cool)
So, instead, my tired brain will do this thingy:

—5 things that you’re wearing:—

1. a black tanktop (with a built in sports bra!)
2. underwear
3. my glasses
4. pajama pants
5. uh, nail polish on my toes?

—5 things you’re doing right now:—

1. typing this …this is such a cliche answer–so, um, thinking of a different answer…looking at the time spent on my phone from my previous phone call.
2. watching some thing on Michael Jackson (more on THAT later) and the moonwalk
3. chatting online with Sandy
4. drying my hair (air dry)
5. thinking about doing my laundry

—5 things you ate in the last 24 hours:—

1. corn on the cob
2. hashbrowns
3. chicken
4. shrimp
5. a biscuit

—5 things you did so far today:—

1. chatted online
2. went to work
3. got gas (this is a boring list)
4. sang “So Happy Together” by the Turtles in the shower
5. watched “Enough” with Jennifer Lopez (I had enough)

—5 things you can hear right now:—

1. Corey Feldman gave his phone number to Michael Jackson on the set of the Goonies.
2. the im chime “doodle-oop” go off from lobsterchick
3. the whirring of my computer
4. the clacking of my keys
5. the applebee’s jingle.

—5 thoughts that are in your head:—

1. I am SOO fucking nervous to move.
2. Told one job I’m moving, one more to go.
3. I wish I had something cool to write on my diary.
4. I’m hungry. When is jennifer going to call me?
5. Jennifer just called me. I’m going to Denny’s at 9:30p.m. I have to dry my hair.

—5 things that you look for in a guy:—

1. someone with an unbelievable dry sense of humour…or who can make me laugh (this is SOOO important, you don’t even know)
2. someone who would helped me move film equipment (one of my past boys didn’t. it made me sad)
3. someone who likes to banter. (one of my past boys would just let me win all the time, that was sad)
4. someone who doesn’t hold me back.
5. someone taller than me (sorry short boys)

–5 people/things you love:–

1. stand up comedians with fresh material
2. film
3. duh, my friends
4. driving my car
5. my future roomies. even ready.

Maybe I’ll update again later to make up for this lame one.

You know what I hate about cds?

When they don’t have lyrics in the their liner notes.

I swear this overpublicizing thing for Britney has some sort of subliminal message to buy her goddamned cd. I sort of turn on autopilot and head to Tower Records.

Must buy crappy cd, must buy crappy cd, must buy crappy cd.

I hold my new “In the Zone” cd and every now and then, I’ll look up in confusion–then I’m back “In the Zone” with Britney.

So, this new song she did, with Madonna. I was really looking forward to singing the fast part–because all I say when I sing (very badly, mind you) in the car is blahblahblahblahblahblah in the zone, you wanna get in the zone. I swear, if you were to lower the volume in my car while I was singing this song, I would probably be speaking Gaelic or Timbuktu (wait, isn’t Timbuktu or Timbucktoo called something else now?). I might even be doing the mating call to siamese cats.

Regardless, part of my goal in buying this cd was to find out WHAT THE FUCK SHE IS SAYING ABOUT BEING IN THE ZONE.

Ah, Britney. I simulataneously (I have this feeling towards many other people) hate you and love you. I secretly want to be you. Except for cheating on Justin. What the FUCK were you thinking? At LEAST you could’ve made it a threesome. Then you would’ve REALLY been in the zone.

I am telling my bosses tomorrow that I’m quitting. I’m nervous. I hope they don’t slap me to…Timbukto, Timbuck fucking three (however you spell it) or the artist formerly known as Timbucktoo/two/to.

I read two fucking diaries tonight to review. I usually read diaries rather fast but writing about them is another story. Where are all the good fucking diaries? I want to a diary to move me. I want a diary to make me fucking want to…I don’t know, get me in the zone.

Goddamn you Britney.

I was IMed up the wazoo today because I have been MIA. Mostly by my California people who swear they haven’t seen me in months. It made me feel loved. Someone who wants to win a Nobel Peace Prize should work on beaming people so I can have these people visit me anytime.

Apparently, 8000 people are going to visit me in Boston. Oh god, just wait till my roommates see my “Californian” tendencies come out. It’s sort of like an accent, the explicit vernaclar just sort of comes out of nowhere. Tyler and I were talking today and we just kept saying “totally” and “yo” and “West Coast Represent!” in every other sentence.

I have this terrible habit of making fun of silly slang and then end up overutilizing it until it’s a permanent part of my vocabulary. I’m going to pick a new word, a weird word, and try to get all my roomies to say it.

Lisanator misses me. That poor girl. It must be hard to be without the fun-filled conversations and equally bad SCII partner. I’m jealous, she played or Josh, her man, played the Weapon Master version and now there’s this new character called Cervantes.

I just noted that the aforementioned paragraph was the dorkiest paragraph ever.

I wonder if my overexposure to my roomies will make me the biggest dork ever.

My new favorite diary is John’s. (I also like this diary because, goddamn, I’ve got good taste) No, not Kerbang but another one who talks extensively or I should say, chastises me extensively online. Hmm.. I should do an entry on online people. Next time.

Anyway, John requested that we make mixed cds for each other. I am totally stoked. My cd is going to be so badass that he is going to want to fly his ass out here and become my sex slave.

Speaking of sex slave, I will not have one anytime soon. I gained about 50 gazillion pounds flying from the east coast to the west coast. How many calories are in those damned peanuts? It could be the California thing or the fact that every pound in the California metric system is actually 10 pounds. I am literally 300 pounds in California metrics.

I wish I had cornrows. Okay, not really. I don’t know why I said that.

I am tired.

I just got back from Boston. It’s not actually Boston, it’s Malden, which I believe is a little north of Boston.

But you know what? If I said that my new place of residence was Malden, you would say “where is that?” and I would say “near Boston” and then you would say “Oooh”

So I just say, I’m moving to Boston.

Wilbur commented that the quality of my writing style is going downhill on diaryland. Maybe I should try to fix my word choice a little bit.

But, he’s been spoiled because I would severely concentrate on composing the perfect email(s) to him and now he expects it all the time.

I will miss him and all the other bastards I’m leaving behind.

I’m fucking HOT. Temperature wise. When I went to the car (My friend gina picked me up) I was HOT and she was wearing a jacket. It’s was 65 degrees at 8pm at night.

My internal temperature gage (gauge?) is all screwy.

Yesterday, I committed a terrible sin.

I went into downtown Boston and I smoked two cigarettes. BAH! Damn me!

And I was doing so well.

What happened was this:

I was cooped up in the apartment ALL FUCKING DAY.

I played free cell (a card game) on my computer and listened to all my cds for a couple of hours.

I went to a grocery store to buy magazines and walked home drenched because it began to rain.

Then, I hung out with Risanator and Josh for a bit, played with Kevin on SCII (Soulcaliber–which I found out recently is only ONE word, not two), had Gump take me out for food, played more SCII with Kerbang.

Everyone went their separate ways and I just kept walking up and down the stairs, going crazy from being in the house all day.

I even said this “I canNOT wait to get home” –that being San Diego.

This worried Risanator: when she dropped me off she said “You’re coming back right? You’re excited about coming back, right?” and I said “Of course” and then she hugged me goodbye. I love this woman.

This worried Kerbang: He said “Why?” and I said “because I’m cold” and he said “You KNOW you’re moving here, right” and I said “I know” and gave some sort of explanation why I said that.

This worried Gump: We had a good long talk the night before I left and basically went over the whole “california” entry he wrote. He felt bad that I was cooped up in the house and said he would leave his door open the next morning so I could watch cable television and use his internet.[sidenote: I ended up not using it because I, the idiot, couldn’t figure out how to turn on his computer. It kept saying it was on power save]. This was such a generous gesture. I DID, however, got to watch Unzipped, no, Revealed with Jules Asner on Rob Lowe. That made me suprisingly giddy.

This, yes, even worried Kevin: When I was leaving for downtown Boston, he said “Where are you going?” and I said “I just need to leave for a bit”. When I came back, he went into my room and said “Where did you go?” again. I thought it was nice that he cared (or seemed to anyway).

But here’s the deal (especially for the roomies, since 75% of them read this diary):

I was not working for a week, which is fucking LONG to me.

My stuff was not there.

I had no cable, no internet, no dvds, no books

It was raining outside

I had no car

Everyone had things to do.

I love the roomies but I didn’t want them to feel they had accommodate me all the time nor babysit. Not that I felt that they were babysitting, but it was just a long time without the internet.

And so I smoked.

I felt so guilty about it though and told Gump and Risanator when I got back.

I think Risanator said “Well, make sure you don’t tell Kerbang, he’ll rip another asshole into you.”

Gump said “Yeah, one of his lectures would make anyone quit two times over” (or something like that).

Maybe he won’t read this entry and I can still have one asshole.

But then again, he’s 3000 miles away, so like he could REALLY do any damage. Wait a minute, what am I talking about? I could easily beat him up.

More details about Boston (Malden) tomorrow. I didn’t get to write about my observations from being so severed.

Once I get my stuff over there though, it is SOOOO on.

Rad.

I’m waiting for Lisa.

It is nearly 3 in the morning and I am quite tired, but what the hell. Go diaryland!

I am in Boston. A couple of things:

* It is obvious that I am not from around here.

* I am cold

* Okay, there’s this pronunciation thing that bothers me:

Worchester: you’d THINK it would be prounounced WAR-CHESS-TER. But nope, it’s pronounced Wooster. like, the bird that goes cock-a-doodle-doo.

Peabody: Prounounced PEE-BAH-DEE. Nope, it’s prounounced, Pee-biddy, or something like that. Like P. Diddy’s alter ego.

* The washer and the dryer are in…the bathrooms? WHAT? [okay, I might be ignorant, but ours are in the garages, like every other person I know]. That’s REALLY BIZARRE.

Christine is so happy that I’m going to be here. She doesn’t have a lot of friends and I won’t either, so it will be good times.

Lisanator (Lisa) is absolutely rad. I liked..no LOVED her immediately. One of the coolest girls I’ve met in a long time. I mentioned that we should wear prom dresses and play video games in the common room to freak everyone out and she was all for it. She rocks so hard, she needs a camera phone (long story)

Kerbang is hilarious and great company as usual. He gets rather talkative when he is slightly inebriated and leaves long phone messages, but that’s part of his charm. We came up with an EXCELLENT plan to take crazy pictures of all the roommates in cheesy poses: a) all dressed up b) in haggard clothing c) naked (okay, HE wanted the naked pictures, not me)

Gumphood, I’m not so sure about. I thought he liked me but apparently from his journal entry, he made it seem like I came off as superficial and materialistic. Oh GOD, if he knew my FRIENDS! I am (as you Californians who read this) as they know, the LEAST materialistic– I spend all my money on dvds, cds and diet coke.

However, before I flew out here, I went out to Old Navy for a winter/fall clearance sale and just happened to get this like “I’m high maintenance jacket” that everyone in California wears.

Oh, not Boston.

And it was OBVIOUS. OBVIOUSLY ridiculous. Like, I wore it in California and people loved it.

I wore it here, and oh god. Like nobody stands out that much. Everything is gray.

Kerbang even commented how my gloves matched my jacket and how “Oh, she must’ve just bought it”

However, I think Gumphood just thinks I’m like that all the time. Oh, wait till he finds out that I only have 3 outfits and finds out how often I buy dvds.

The thing, I will comment on though, is I really like the people I met thus far. They’re really nice. Especially the girls (I’ve only met Lisa and Gumphood’s girlfriend)– they really come off genuine.

Anyway, this is the most boring entry EVER.

I bought Soul Caliber II. My goal? To be the ultimate Soul Caliber II champion in the apartment.

in the apartment.

the apartment.

the—

I am again, waiting for Lisa. We are going to go out to eat. I’m so glad there is one other hot girl in the house (ha ha ha)

In my previous entry, I talk about my roommates (or soon to be roommates, although they all treat me like I’m living here already, awww) but I didn’t mention one of them.

They call him Ready.

Ready to tell tall tales it seems (go alliteration!)

He is quite an interesting character, as with everyone in the house, however, I feel two things about him:

1. I feel sort of sorry for him. Obviously, he must have low self esteem for him to have his stories full of hyperbole in order for him to come off as interesting. If he was really confident in himself as a person, he would just be able to NOT tell such exaggeratory anecdotes.

2. There’s (an evil) part of me that wants to mess with him– he seems too much of an open target.

When I went up to take a shower, he was walking around with no shirt on. He says “Sorry that I’m naked”

My FIRST instinct was to look him up and down and lick my lips and say “Oooh, there’s nothing to be sorry about”…maybe run my finger down his arm. heh heh heh.

Of COURSE, I was a good girl and I actually said “Oh, it’s all right, I’ve lived with many guys before”

And so I have…but more on that later.

I also met Unclepumpkin. I think he was nervous (from what Kerbang tells me) that he has been hyped up so much that I was expecting this Greek God. No, I wasn’t. Gump prepared me (which, he DOES have a good point) that he probably looked like any other person in California.

And he did. He looked like one of my many friends I party with.

Now, I guess living in California, I never REALIZED how obsessed we are with looks. We are REALLY obsessed.

My friends are all buff. We go to parties and they compete on who has the bigger guns (biceps), they jump over bonfires, they play guitar, they are all engineers or computer geeks. It’s quite a crazy phenomenom.

Who has the classy clothes, who has the best haircut, who has the fastest car. I think I know about cars a tiny bit more than people here, because all of my friends constantly tell me.

But, it’s not a vocal competition, it’s undercover.

However, on a positive note. When I’m in California, I feel like the fattest thing on EARTH. I need to lose fifty pounds. Here, in Boston, I feel…actually, NORMAL. Like I only have to lose 20 pounds. I feel if I lost the amount of weight that I previously thought I needed, I would be too cold and people would think me anorexic.

Conversely, if I lost 50 pounds in California, I would be thought of as hot.

Oh, the options.

I like to silently take notes..or how Kerbang said “You’re silently judging me!” Which, I don’t THINK I am doing. I was looking at Gump’s dvd collection. Although, it is rather small, I was very happy with his collection and he pointed out (the two worst ones he had) that they were included with the dvd player. I was severely impressed that he had Elizabeth.

I really suck at video games here. Those bastards. However, this is quite exciting because usually people around here are up for a game, and at home, I always had to wait for my sister. I have the most fun playing with Lisa since we both don’t know all the damned secret moves in Soul Caliber II.

Another rambling entry from a rambling stomach (i’m hungry)

I will return on Tuesday…where I will retire in the West as Galadula. Queen of the Water Rings.

Yeah, my brain is too cold.

I had a nightmare last night.

I had a nightmare that I went to my new apartment and Gumphood was trying to sell my room in front of me because he wasn’t sure about me as a person. I was like, “Uh…okay.”

It gets worse.

So, I meet Lisa, who really doesn’t like me either. I see Ready in passing and I don’t see Kerbang at all.

Then I look around the apartment and it’s fully old and falling apart, it’s haunted and everything is crooked. I’m thinking “Oh god, WHAT did I get myself into??”

Then, for some odd reason, they (Lisa and Gumphood) decide to take me to a party of some sort.

Oh, and GUESS who I run into?

My ex-boyfriend Steve and his new (super cute) girlfriend. His new girlfriend gives me the eyeball and I’m looking at her back, thinking “I dated him THREE years ago buddy”.

So, of course when I wake up, now I’m SUPER NERVOUS about seeing the apartment.

I’m in Rhode Island right now. We (my friend Christine and I) are going to leave for Boston at 1pm and we are going to meet one of my future roommates, Lisa, at the train stop. After briefly talking to Lisa on the phone, I can tell I like her already.

But, then I had the nightmare…

Well, two things thus far:

It isn’t THAT cold (yet)
I LOVE the accents here!

I went to Dunkin Donuts last night (I guess to see if they were second rate to the New York’s first rate Krispy Kreme donuts) and her accent was beautiful.

One thing I didn’t like, though, is that’s its pronounced SODAS not SODERS.

What the hell?