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)
Minimal Effort 