"I'm spinning round the room in awe" ryan adams
I need a new old man crush. Tom Cruise, who after knowing Katie Holmes for two months proposed to her, is no longer worthy of my lust. He is just too damn weird. His cuteness only goes so far until his craziness overshadows it. Sorry Tom, we just wouldn't work out. Adam Brody on the other hand...(call me).
So I think one of the reasons that our apartment is so fun is because we are all dirty and gross. Seriously, I am notorious for forgetting that I have things and finding them with mold later. I'm gross. I'm just plain gross. When I was a sophomore I found a tupperware container of green moldy spaghetti that was at least six months old. I think it's the worst thing I have ever smelled. So Cheryl and I cleaned out the fridge tonight. We figured it would be a great idea since every weekend until we move out at least one of us has overnight guests and we don't want to gross them out. We seriously found stuff from February. And why do we keep one piece of fruit in fruit jars? And with the amount of salsa jars we have, you'd think we run a damn Mexican restaraunt. And baby carrots - we should have a garden, and we pretty much do with all the vines growing from them. SO GROSS. Now we are all at the table with our laptops talking about how boys suck. Linds just found out that the guy she was undating has a girlfriend. She found out because they were in the elevator and some girl mentioned his girlfriend. Of course all jaws dropped. Nothing new. Today was an odd day. A hugely hectic day. I apologize to everyone I didn't write back to via AIM or e-mail, I seriously was so swamped. Out of all the days I have wanted to kill myself, this one takes the cake. At least tomorrow night at the LoPresto's will be FANTASTIC. I'll write more later. Love ya! ;-)
If you are you a loyal reader, you will know about my California Boyfriend. If you're not a loyal reader, my California Boyfriend (who also has a California gf) is this guy that I talk to a lot on the phone at work and during one crazy week we both said that we talked to each other more than anyone else. Just by judging through the phone and e-mail, he has a really sweet disposition and sounds like a genuinely nice guy while also being witty. Laura and I have conteplated on what he looks like - I think he has a small frame and is about 5'8'' with blondish brownish messy short hair. He also has freckles in my imagination. Needless to say this has become an ongoing joke. I always scour the mags to see if I can find any names I recognize and it's such a happy day when Pollstar comes in.
Rich is going to LA on Thursday and I told him that he should bring a digital camera to document all of the people he meets with that I only know by name. He said that he could arrange that...
Ok, now that I have caught you up, fast forward to this evening. My computer was being a jerkface most of the afternoon (sorry about the no responses to e-mails and IMs) so as soon as I get back onto AIM, I hear Rich talking to one of the agents that we work with...all of a sudden I hear my CA bfs name brought up. This can't be good. This agency is one of the largest in the country and works with very high profile artists and I can imagine to be very large. So there Rich goes telling the woman (everyone remains nameless!) how I talk of my CA bf. I quickly IM him with "HEY!" just in case he thought he was being slick. My face is beet red, and Rich announces this to the agency since he can see me from the mirror. I tell Laura that this office has no dignity and put my head on my desk thinking that this can't end good. Rich then hangs up and tells me that they (the people at the agency) are going to get me a picture and send it over. Could I be any more humiliated?
Oh yes. So the e-mail comes and I am peering over Rich's shoulder. It looks like the e-mail passed through a few different gates to get to Rich. Before we opened it, the body of the email asked for a picture of me. So we couldn't see his face because he had on sunglasses, a hat, and the shading was dark. But he was shirtless and a lot more buff than we anticipated. The shirtlessness was the first thing we noticed. Rich whooped and immediately called the agency and asked for the agent's office in question (my CA bf is an assistant to an agent). "So are you taking steroids now??!!!?"
And that was when I left the room and tell Jen. To which she repled: "why is this your life?!" My sentiments exactly. Too funny.
Police announce suspect in Bonistall murder
Wow, Lincoln Drive is small. Tom, Bob, Mart, and Aaron lived there. I don't even know what to write except that at least there is some sense of relief.
I have fifteen minutes to kill...so I am going to start a new game all about me because I am so self absorbed. I'm also sarcastic...
I love peanut butter.
I hate caramel.
I love how my shampoo smells like mint.
I hate hot showers.
I love rain on summer nights.
I hate thunder.
I love eyeliner.
I hate lipstick.
I love coffee.
I hate milk.
I love mint tea.
I hate mint ice cream.
I love cheap beer.
I hate good wine.
I love documentaries.
I hate action films.
I love purple and orange.
I hate yellow and brown.
I love compressed air.
I hate ironing.
I love getting splinters out.
I hate bleeding.
I love flip flops.
I hate heels.
I love wearing scarves in the summer.
I hate high necks on shirts.
I love jukeboxes.
I hate tribute bands.
I love pinball.
I hate darts.
I love astericks.
I hate Tuesdays.
I love Verdana.
I hate blue inked pens.
I love mechanical pencils.
I hate day-glo.
I love lite-brite.
I hate when people leave the same away message all the time.
I love ryan adams.
I hate drivers who obey the speed limit, or five miles below.
I love boys with lip rings.
I hate shorts.
I love biting my nails.
I hate smooth jazz.
I love Pier 1 candles because they actually smell.
I hate Christmas lights on houses after January 31.
I love basketball...and especially March Madness.
I hate mu-mus.
I love The Grape.
I hate little yappy dogs.
I love filming & photography.
I hate popped collars.
I love indie rock dance house parties (a la newark style)
I hate men with white knee socks. with or without the stripe.
I love glow in the dark paint.
I hate bridges.
I love watching planes at airports.
I hate flying.
I love orange juce.
I hate tequila.
I love the lapsteel.
I hate people who stop at the top of staircases/elevators.
I love teetering where the sand meets the ocean.
I hate wicker baskets.
I love shoeboxes.
I hate checkers.
I love pinwheels.
I hate red vans.
I love chinese take out.
I hate mayonnaise
I love macaroni & cheese
I hate fringe.
I love reality television.
I hate morning traffic as i am ending my night.
I love polka dots.
I hate my alarm clock.
Chip came up from Delaware Saturday night for the Granian show. We thought we had a group with us from DE, NYC, NJ, and CT, but we ended up flying solo to the show. After Chip got a full tour of Hoboken while trying to find a spot, we immediately downed a pitcher of Pina Colada mix before trekking into the city. While downing our frosty concoction we spoke of music (duh), harems, and chocolate chip pancakes. ha.
I think Chip is bad luck when it comes to subways, but there was no WTC train so we just chanced it and hopped on the train to Manhatten. I gave him a choice on whether to take the Journal Square train and transfer to a WTC train or take the Manhatten train to Christopher Street and "just find our way." Apparently our motto is, "always an adventure" so we picked the less familiar of the two.
We emerge onto Christopher and amidst a sea of saucy gay men. I love it. While on the phone with Maryellen, we passed an Asian man dressed as a woman. We got to see a lot of the city during our trek. And of course I tripped. Chip said that he was JUST thinking to himself that I hadn't tripped yet. I think he mentally jinxed me. We then saw two more men dressed up as women. One of them had on a pink ruffly skirt and was like, 60. Ew.
We walk in at the beginning of Granian's set and it was rock bliss for the next hour. I scored a free Travis Rocco band CD and was able to get Chip drinks. How I love Tribeca. Garen busted out more old tunes than I expected, but the trip back to the old school made me content. We recognized a lot of faces - what a fun little rock family. The average height of the crowd was about 5'7'' and of course i get that guy who is 5'11'' right in front of me. It would have been a big deal because I kept repositioning himself, but the guy seriously moved five times a song, which really impeded on my dancing. I couldn't hold a beat while trying to also see the stage. Ha.
After the show, Garen approached Chip and said that he looked really familiar. Which was quite humorous because Garen said that the first time Chip saw him play and they obviously don't know each other. Afterwards we played on the steps of some building and took random pictures. Onlookers yelled at me for climbing on things I shouldn't climb on. At least this buiding didn't have cameras on it to catch my antics. On the walk to the PATH we bypassed the Pakistani restaraunts and decided to eat Hoboken pizza instead.
As soon as I said there there are always rumbles on this block, a fight broke out. Silly boys at bars! Then there was pushing and shoving and an, "I'm going to kill you!" So we walked through it, then turned around with two other girls on the sidewalk and totally watched. The two girls said it was because one guy touched another guy at the bar. Yeah, because people don't accidently touch each other at hot sweaty bars. Seriously, if that was the rule, Tribeca would have been rolling with punches!
So we tiredly ate pizza, though it was no Newark pizza (seriously I have yet to find something finer than Peace of Pizza here in Hoboken). Then came home and crashed. Yay for rock.
I love my black flip flops, coffee, my ipod, and the color orange.
