a girl with her head cut off

This is the second Monday that I have managed to have lunch with the illustrious Laura of "blaurasblog." I like her. I have blogged about her in the past which makes her somewhat of a celebrity in my mini blog world--she will be mentioned again this week. So we had a lunch of leftovers (we also shared dinner last night w/ her fiance, David) and managed to get in some important conversation. All girls love to talk about their weight, right? Not really, but we managed to get on that topic after talking about baby weight. I told Laura that from here on out, I will be calculating my weight minus my head. The human head can weight ten pounds or more, so why figure it into your total number? It's not like it's fat or muscle...I say don't count it. Thanks to Laura I now have a new answer when people ask my weight:

"Well, without my head I weigh 115 pounds."

chitter chatter

I'm getting better at weekend blogging. Since I have no ambition to do anything anymore, this makes sense. I like to get up on Saturday, make coffee, grab a magazine and zone out until the evening where I freak out about not having any "real plans." I then go on to say that:

a) my life sucks
b) i'm lonely
c) this would be better if i lived somewhere else
d) i feel gotic
e) i wish my friends were here
f) i hate men
g) why can't life be simple like when i was in high school
h) i hate people
i) i want a drink
j) i'm over this, i'm going to bed

Crazy. Mixed emotions.

Saturday blogging is fun. It's like Saturday cartoons, only I'm in complete control. I'm starting to like things this way--me in control. When I'm in control (and have lots of coffee) I avoid freak outs.

return the 'tender (not chicken)

Last night was one of those evenings where upon leaving work I had no plans, but to go home, enjoy a pizza, drink my sorrows (and hatred) away, and enjoy an evening with the cast of Grey's. It didn't happen that way; however not to my dismay.

I got a text from "Hotender"...yeah, that's what I said. I haven't spoken with him since October (well I saw him about 2 weeks ago at a bar in the Mission). He informed me all the days he was working and concluded by saying, I should come by and say hi. Kim and I had some time to spare before Grey's and since The Ambassador is a new spot, we couldn't say no.

I think The Ambassador is my new favorite bar. Hanging from a black ceiling were about 20 crystal chandiliers in various sizes. A very sexy place to sip old school cocktails. I'll certainly be returning. So, I made my way up to the bar where he was working, to his surprise and proceeded to be coy, but sweet. I think he liked my outfit which was nice because so many people said weird things about it that day. Kim left, but I hung around for another drinkie--a madras (not fancy, but free). We chatted for a bit, managed to catch up, he complimented my physique, then he told me I should return the next night . Again I took on my calm and cool persona (so not me, huh?) and responded by saying I didn't know, I was planning for a mellow weekend. He thanked me for coming, I thanked him for the invite, he gave me kisses, and I said I would call him. To this he responded, "yeah, do that," with a smile, no less. Finally I turned my back on to hear him say again, "thanks for coming Candace." I didn't turn around I continued to walk. I'm such a movie star.

So, all that to say this...I think I'll be hanging out with Hotender again soon. But, this time I know he will not be my boyfriend.

monday rambling

On days like this (Monday's) I think I'd be happy being a work-from-home-mom living in prime Santa Monica property with one infant child, a fresh pot of coffee, an English Muffin, and the NY Times--waiting for my 2pm phone meeting which will last about an hour. I could get used to that.

I'm sick of my twenties today. I'm sick of birth control pills. They're making me feel crazy. Goddamn Monday.

Ugh. I feel totally fickle today. Someone rescue me.

The day's saving grace? Swedish meatballs from IKEA (with Laura aka Blaura).

fertilize all ye eggs

I read an article this morning in the February edition of Elle (one of my favorites) on egg donation. It was interesting that I should read an article about this, as I had a lengthy conversation regarding this issue back in December. I had a friend who donated and she went on and on about how she was glad she did it and the recipients were so happy blah blah blah. Then she told me what she got paid, and me being the financially challenged individual that I am, jumped at the opportunity. I had planned the next day to get online and start researching. I even called Ralph and we began to talk about what I could buy with my earnings. With the holidays and my busy social schedule I had completely forgotten about this until today.

The article addressed a lot points that I never thought could play into choosing a donor. I should mention the article was written by a woman seeking a donor so she and her husband could have a second child--a sibling for their naturally produced offspring. I was shocked to find that some donors request as much as 50k and have waiting lists. People are pretty much trying to create the perfect child. If you go these donor sites and sign up you get asked wild questions like your SAT score. I hate the SAT. Who cares about the SAT??? Whatever the case it's amazing the lengths these people go to in order to have a child that carries the father's DNA. The women mentioned that as she watched the donor's egg meet with her hubby's swimmers she felt like an affair was going on. Weird, huh? In the end this woman spent all of inheritance her mother (who died a year prior) had left her only to end up with nothing. While they gal the couple selected was prime ---in the eyes of desperate parents--she went to UCLA law, good test scores, ambitious, well-written, well-spoken, athletic, few family health problems blah blah blah--she had "poor eggs." No baby.

Yeah, so after reading this I realized what a hypocrite I would be if I did donate my eggs. Yes I could potentially be helping a family who really really really really wants a baby, but do I want my DNA floating in god-knows-where? Yes, I could take the earnings pay off credit card debt, have a nice savings, and even walk away with a new bag, but is it worth it to know 18 yrs. later someone could knock at my door? Though the biggest turn off for me comes when I think of all of the children who need to be adopted. Adoption can be a lengthy process, but isn’t assisted fertility? I don't know I just would feel right giving up these good or potentially poor eggs when there are a number of omelets to choose from.

UPDATE: thanks to an anonomyus reader I can provide you a link to the article

http://www.danishapiro.com/egg-donor.html

pump it...louda!

Ewww I was lying in the bed this morning and I could hear my heartbeat...it really freaked me out, because it was so loud.

I hate age.

I'm going to address my issue with age later, but for now I'm trying to figure out how to get my heart to stop beating (hee hee).

bye bye broken heart

Last we "spoke" I was going on about how I learn new things about myself everyday. Perhaps this is my week of self-actualization. A veil has been lifted from mine eye and I'm pleased to announce that I have the male species pinned! Ok, I'm exaggerating a bit, but whatever the case I've gained clarity on my relationships/interactions with men.

I think all girls have a general idea of who's who when it comes to men, but it takes years (if you ask me) to accept and embrace this intuition. You know if a guy is good or bad for you within 24 hours. However, you'll justify him in every possible way you can to make him seem "right." You'll kind of mold him--make light of those things that you know are going to burn you in the end, just so you can envision him being "the one."

I've become a bit of a cynic in my old age and more so, I believe I've become hardened to the behaviors of men. Sometimes I get sad about this, because I feel as though an endearing part of me is gone. But on the other hand I thank jebus that those days are behind me. Ugh. No more crying, stressing, waiting, wondering, wishing, hoping. I've learned to take a man at face value. If his demeanor is off when I meet him, or if I'm lead to question more than one thing that came out of his mouth, he's probably just a one-night stand. He could be one of those guys who hangs around for a few months, takes me out, makes me laugh, gives me a reason to get pretty on a Tuesday night, gives me hot sweet love, and says nice things, but I know he's nothing more than that. I like this. I am really enjoying accepting an asshole for what he is. I feel in control and a lot less vulnerable than in days past. I mean did I really think that "Hotender" could be my boyfriend? And what about "Southern Hottie?" Oh and let's not forget "NBF..." All of these experiences were fulfilling in someway and I can now accept that and not want more or go home and cry about that shit.

I'm also beginning to question the idea of "the one." I'm sure he exists and most women can attest to this. But there is a part of me that is content with knowing he'll never show up and I'll just have my two retarded best friends to last me for the rest of my life (I know most of you are cringing at thought of my immaturity never really "dying"). This is not to say that I don't believe in love...I do. Many of my friends have found it and I'm happy for them. My day will come, but I'm in no hurry (I’m so fickle). Some day my "prince" will come. But I wouldn't be surprised if he were a skinny hot gay who really wanted to watch The Hills with ONLY ME for all of eternity...

love hello kitty love hello kitty love hello kitty

Don't you just love hello kitty? I cannot name one individual who does not enjoy hello kitty. Have you been to the website? I've added it to my list of favorite links, so check it out.

I love hello kitty. I've been in lust with her since 1985 and this is an affair that is not soon ending. In honour (intentional) of my love for ms. kitty, i now have a hello kitty email address. It's kind of a joke, but I enjoy it. I thought it would be a nice email address to give out when I'm in bars meeting guys since no one gives out their phone number anymore (ugh sooo y2k). I would just love to see someone's reaction upon telling them you have a hello kitty email address.


I love hello kitty. She makes me feel 16 year old Asian girl who spends her entire time writing notes on wide-ruled notebook paper! Email me at candit@hellokitty.com

hello kitty is such a hot ho...

so long no cuddle frog

I'm learning new things about myself everyday and today I learned that I hate dropping people off at the airport. I've always acknowledged that it brings a bit of saddness to my afternoon, but this time I realized taking friends or family to catch a flight is so sad. I feel very lonely afterward.

I guess I should tell you the who, what, when, where and why...

One of my long-time buddies, Noah came to visit me over the long weekend. I moved here four and a half years ago and since the day I arrived I've anticipated his visit. So, it finally happened. We had a great time. In fact, I think in the seven years that we've been friends, this was some of the best time we've ever spent. I always appreciate his company, his conversation, his insights, and his genuine friendship (he has good hair too). I felt like we got to know each other a little bit more. We partied on Friday and Saturday nights, we stayed up for late chats, watched cartoons and ordered pizza, "myspaced," shopped, had a great dinner at Delfina, brunched at Elite and even took a walk to Land's End (a cliff) to watch the sunset, but he never gave me a cuddle. I'm still trying to get get over not getting a morning cuddle.

At any rate, Noah is a great friend (cuddle or no cuddle)and it was refreshing to spend a weekend with him. Maybe that's why I got so sad about dropping him at SFO this afternoon. He got out of the car, we hugged and said farewell then, he headed inside. I instantly broke out my piece of shit cell phone to dial Ralph in order to achieve some sort of interaction. I was afraid of my car getting quiet. He didn't answer and neither did the other two friends I called. So I rode in my car--the same song playing as when Noah was got out--and tried to keep from getting emotional (not emo). A rush of saddness and loneliness came over me. Are you crying yet? Sheesh, I'm crying just typing this (not really). Perhaps I had a really meaningful weekend with one of my favorite people (I gave him a new nickname--frog) or I hate dropping people off at the airport, I haven't decided. I can be fickle, so I don't know what my excuse will be today. Wait I know why I got sad, no cuddle...

"happy fuckin' new year"--b.spears (that drunk mess)

I'm back!! I'm back where I belong in San Francisco where I belong. I had a wonderful time in Southern California (with the exception of the two days that I think I rode the H-train), but it's so great to be home. It's nice to have some alone time, a healthy liver, and my nice quiet thoughts. I will admit, however that constant stimulation spoiled me a bit because while I am enjoying alone time, I'm also getting bored a lot quicker than usual.

Now it's a new year and while I'm not a fan of putting pressure on a new year, I'm expecting great things for 2007. Right now I'm trying not to be negative (hahahahahahahahaha)--we'll see how long it lasts.

Before I get into the nuances of my resolutions, I must tell you of my New Year's Eve. I had an amazing time (see the photos). I'm not much for blogging right now, but I wanted to wish you all a hapy new year. Here's to another year of crazy blogging ahead.



*Sometimes having a blog makes me feel like a celeb in my own right. Now if only I could get the worldwide recognition that comes with it...jebus