yukkin' it up. I feel like I've been laughing for hours. And well, I have. Tonight we got to see Patton Oswalt (and others) at the Irvine Improv. Three months ago I didn't know who Patton Oswalt was. Come on now. I don't watch a lot of TV (PO is on King of Queens, a show I've never seen) and Lord knows SLO Town isn't known as the Bastion of Busting One's Gut. And okay. I will admit it here: I've never been to a comedy club before. Because I live in THE STICKS. Oh sure, you can think that all of California is cosmopolitan, but I'm here to tell you folks, it's not. And my coastal, small-town, cowboy-hat-wearing, back-roads-don't-need-to-be-paved town is here to support me. But I've been behind the Orange Curtain for two weeks straight and constant begging and pleading and bribery got me tickets to the Improv and company. A month or so ago I heard Patton on Fresh Air and became a fan in under 40 minutes. Tonight was just the icing on the cake. So, go on and support your local (and/or national) comics and go to a comedy club soon and support those smarmy-assed sarcastic sons-of-bitches. Your ab muscles will thank you for it.
mantra = i am not that stereotype. i am not that stereotype. i am not that stereotype. [insert infinity sign here]. The rest of the day was pretty a-ok too. Though I lost my mind for 20 minutes and sent an ex boyfriend a "hi, how are you" email. And Lord knows, nothing makes you look more pathetic than the "hi, how are you" email. But you know, what? I DON'T CARE. Because I sincerely do want to know how he is doing. Why is it some kind of misdemeanor and/or Bridget Jones Capitol Offense to enquire how someone you cared about in the past is doing? I'm sick of the stereotypes and I'm sick of the potential of patronizing glances. I'm done living my life in order to avoid patronizing glances. From now on, I'm going for all glances that begin above the upper rim of the glasses whilst peering down one's nose. BRING IT ON. I've been wondering about him for atleast a month. I want to know. Even though he may not want to tell me. In fact, based on our last point of contact (um, in the --cough cough-- nineties) where I called him and he was out-of-his-way rude (and guys, please get over yourself and just be polite), I'm not necessarily expecting a glad-tidings response.
But really? This guy will always have a soft spot in my heart. And I hope I hear back that he is great and has kids and a woman who loves him and thanks for thinking of him and blah di blah di blah.
I'm such a pollyanna. :) Any wagers on silence or "leave-me-alone" you worthless bitch WHO BROKE MY HEART emails? (Pshaw you half-filled-glassers, no matter how probably right you are.).
I vote for a sweet response full of "thanks for thinking of me and I named my first daughter Emdot."
other little thing highlights. Being in Irvine has been great. And I wonder.... okay... I hesitate to say this cuz of pride and all the complete bullshit I spouted here before and all... but... pause... was I lonely? All I know is that it was great — really great — to be down here for the last two weeks (supposed to only be four days). I like being in a full house. I like having people to talk to in the mornings over coffee and Katie Couric and/or Linda Wertheimer. I'm a social creature and my cat just isn't that good at current events. Or drinking wine after work. Or suggesting new movies to see. So, Irvine was great.
My dad and Janet are in temporary housing (cough cough, which is really a lot nicer than my permanent housing) until the six-dollar-burger is ready for habitation, so new walking trails were discovered. Along with new coffee shops and new delis (New Dehlis?) and not to mention Improvs and truly great shopping (which I couldn't partake in). Spending time with Evan... well that only happens every six months on an extremely lucky year. And next year he starts college, so who knows when I get to bro-down with him again, late into the wee hours, both of us at our dorky computer screens late at night. IM-ing each other though we are only steps away. Sigh. The good ol' days. And really, I am just dorky enough to want to be near all my family all the time. I guess it's ironic that I don't have a family of my own.
So, all that said, here's a snap shot of the last few days:
my latest wallpaper (which has changed three times while in OC)
Patton Oswalt
Lillies by Catherine
Carter's letter to Zell
Hero
Mean Creek
My Vanity Fair Boyfriend (back off sisters)
Gumbo (Irvine cat)
Chapin (king of Islay Street)
My latest Flickr Favorite
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