back in the saddle.

Heavens, me. It's been about three years since my weary fingers have blasted the keyboard with "wise" words from the chuntress. Too much has happened in between and I'll spare whatever four readers I have left the grim details. One thing you must know, my San Fran days are behind me and I'm glad about it. Also, my ridiculous dating chronicles have come to a happy ending. No I'm not married, just done bouncing from one popped collar to the next and thanks to the wonders of technology and the death of Michael Jackson, I was reunited with my first love. It's the bomb!

I re-read my headline today. That thing about being dramatic like xanax and lines and bourbon and such. Funny, stuff. I also started reading some of my posts. I wanted to pour myself a glass of wine, but remembered I'm on this whole body cleanse and can't even think about touching adult beverages. Back to the text. What in god's name was I thinking? Why did I ever stop blogging? The evolution of le chuntress is sheer hilarity. The adventures, the calamity, the diction, it's all there.

Like I said above, a lot has changed. I'm older, more honest, more seasoned and no longer buying into HBO's bull (thanks for the delusions SATC, but you can crawl back into your 90's cave now). And with that, prepare yourself for a fresh setting (long beach), a few new characters, wacky adventures and some quality blogging...

a chicken walks into the bar (exam)

Things are on the up and up--or so they seem. I have yet to say I hate my job and it's been a month. I think I've given up on dating again. I don't know what I do wrong, but my guess is I'm working the "hot slut" too hard. Who cares, right? I don't. Yes I do, because every other post is a recount of my severley pathetic dating life. Hmmm

I'm going back to the gym. This makes me happy. I was starting to feel a little fluffy around the edges--not good.

I'm getting a new housemate. How exciting. Her name is Amanda. If she ever reads my blog, she might be shocked at my next statement:

SHE'LL NEVER REPLACE A. HART aka Ray Wonder. I love Amanda (my former housemate). She began the Bar exam today. I think she's going to do well. Although I must admit these last few weeks her stress has been rubbing off on me and I'm freaked out about the Bar. Here's a bit of backstory. A. Hart was a third year law student when I moved in with her. I thought she was super smart--gifted, in fact (she hates that term). She is super smart, but then she began talking maddness about how she had no plans to practice. I thought this strange for someone who worked so hard to become Little Ms. Hastings. So we didn't talk about post-law school plans that often. She wowed me this past May when she started going on about the Bar and how she was going to take it. Long story short, today was a first day and she's been going crazy leading up to this event. I know she'll be a nut afterwards as well. But I have my fingers crossed that she rocks out with her ____our (ew). I just know she'll score well--she's gifted, remember?

In all of my warm wishes to one of my favorite people (in dee world), I also wish that she gets out of her seat (mid-exam) and starts clucking like a chicken. I don't know much about the law (well more than the average bear thanks to amanda), but I do know that chicken clucking at the right time can get you a good seat in a court house! I'm being ridiculous--did that even make sense? I'm going with no. This is stream of conciousness, which I'm not fond of. I'll stop now.

leather cuffs...blah

I almost never blog anymore because I suck. No I don't, who am I kidding!? I'm eternally the hot slut of the day.

Seeing that I haven't posted in twenty...read it, my friends, twenty days, it's high time I supply you with that mind-numbing blather that you love so much.

I hate leather cuffs on guys. EW.

Who told the metros that this was cool? It's far from it. Seriously, nothing bugs me more than seeing a guy walk down the street with some greased up hair do, a polo shirt (collar up, mind you), tight jeans, big black sunglasses, and a leather cuff. When I see it I can't help but imagine the guy getting dressed in the morning and seriously putting on his leather cuff. I guess this is comparable to a watch, but it seems so ridiculous. Kind of like thos young guys who wear three shirts, jeans, sweat bands on both wrists, a necklace, sunglasses, a hat, and carries a murse. Oh my god. Aren't guys suppossed to come with less clutter? I know then I think back to my Barbie days, Ken always came with fewer items than Barbie.

Don't you agree that a guy just looks like a complete tool when he's wearing a leather cuff? God, I hate those things. Only John Galliano can wear them and even he's over it.

sorry doesn't cut it

I've been avoiding even looking at le blog, chuntress. I feel guilty. I've even begun to avoid checking my email. I'm ashamed.

I was once so good at responding to email and blogging...what's happening to me? I haven't even posted a dlisted quote. Times are hards, kids. Ok not really. I've just been busy. And before I go any further, I hate when people tell me they're too busy. I think it's rude. On one level I can understand it, but on the other hand it's a bit offensive when someone brushes you off with the "I'm busy." You all can hate me. I hate me today.

So I had date #2 with Nick. I still like him. I appreciate his attitude--it's refreshing. I told him I was reading and like a considerate fellow he brought a book over for himself in the event that I wanted to continue reading. Uh before you go and label him a sap (because I know how you readers work), I must tell you that he makes decisions and commits to them. In fact, he makes executive decisions. If he's not up for something, he's very forthcoming with his opinions. Ahhh my kind of guy. None of this crazy banker maddness. We had dinner at EOS and shared a wonderful dessert. Need I say more?

In other exciting news, work is still great and I have a cocktail get together with a former leg model. I'm interested to see how this goes. Speed dating is this Wednesday and like the sorry liar that I'm turning into, I'm not going. Stop judging me! I have someone coming to look at my apartment. Yes the day is almost upon us....you know what I'm talking about.

This is a stream of consciousness post and I'm really over it. I'm not into things lacking structure or having a focus. So expect more posts soon, but thank me for allowing you to taste a morsel of ridiculosity.

monday is the new thursday

And pink is not the new blog....I really don't like that site. In fact, I don't even read it anymore. These days I'm really about spending my time on things that matter--dlisted, well crafted shoes and monday being the new thursday.

I had a feeling something like this was going to happen. In the last year I've booked a few dates on Monday and attended a few Monday night shin digs. So if monday is the new thursday, thursday becomes the new saturday and to sum up this meaningless and somewhat teenage equation, saturday is now extint. Well saturday is no longer the night the night to party it up (balls to the walls...blah). It's when you relax.

Having said all that, I went on my third (maybe 4th) monday night date this year. His name--gasp--I have yet to name him. He's cute (captivating green eyes, the most darling curls and great eyebrows), sweet/sincere, an active listener, great conversationalist, food snob and into the idea of "make out monday." I'm getting a bit weird with this labeling days thing, but it's fun. This was one of those dates where you can end up talking all night.

We had dinner, he picked, I met him there. At first conversation was a little awkward--which (i've decided to use his name, he's too nice for one of my retarded nicknames) Nick, so honestly pointed out; but it grew and I think we had a really great time together. It's rare that I have a date where I don't want the guy to just shut the hell up so I can finish my food. In fact, I didn't give a crap about my food, I was very into our converstation. I ate slowly....I never eat slowly. We got on the subject of champagne and being the gentleman that he was, Nick escorted me to his dwelling where we enjoyed champs. We talked more. And yes for all of you nosey people the talking finally ceased and we did make-out. I'm starting to think this guy isn't real--he keeps a girl engaged, picks a good resty and makes out very nicely. Maybe I'm finally out of that habit of falling for douche bags and perhaps "the Monday" isn't as bad as it once was?

new attitude

So I won't say much except that my new job is perfect. I don't forsee complaining in my future (who am I kidding, i'm still me). But I really like my co-workers, the office, everything. It's even ok to read dlisted.

Does a job get any better than that?

my dad said...

Yukilynn, one of my besty's from way back (she makes very rare appearances on my blog) had me doubling over with laughter a few weeks ago. We got into one of our usual conversations about how our father's are a special pair. They practice so much of the same behavior--dramatic, judgemental, selffish, but in the end, down right comical. At any rate, this fueled a conversation about what we like to call, "Disneyland Dads." What is a "Disneyland Dad," you ask? Well let me enlighten you.

Disneyland Dad--the father who comes by one random weekend and promises his child a trip to Disneyland not this Saturday, but the one after. Two Saturday's later there is the kid in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt and shorts wearing a Mickey hat waiting on the couch for Disneyland Dad to arrive. He never shows up, but the kid continues to tell his/her mother, "My dad's coming and we're going to Disneyland." Poor thing.

McDonald's Dad--the dad who promises his kid that he will come to their school and present him/her with McDonald's for lunch. McDonald's Dad shows up, but he brings lunch at the wrong time. He brings it at 10am where it is left in the office until the fat secretary brings it to the child's classroom. By lunchtime, the Happy Meal's contents are cold and soggy. If McDonald's Dad brought nuggets, he forgot the sauce so the child is forced to use school ketchup, not the Fancy Ketchup that McDonald's serves. Oh and on a sidenote, the soda is watered down.

When I get my paycheck/settlement Dad--This dad is ghetto, especially if he's "Settlement Dad." He always promises his child toys. It usually sounds something like this, "When I get my paycheck/settlement check, we can go to Toys R Us and you can get anything you want." The poor kid tells everyone things like, "My dad said that I can go to Toys R Us on Saturday and get whatever I want." Yeah too bad the kid never sets foot in the toy store, because when the dad gets his check or settlement he's out doing god knows what with those funds.

These are the most prominent, but there's also "When I get my car fixed Dad," "Tell your mother to take it out of her child support Dad." Trust me if you're a product of a broken home you probably know exactly what kind of characters we're dealing with here. I think these definitions are hilarious as does Yukilynn. Perhaps its because we've both lived these things first-hand. Don't people always say that one should make light of a troubled situation?

six minute man

A few months back, le chuntress signed up for speed dating, but once I saw what it would cost me I gave it the finger and vowed to never talk about such garbage again. Well, I'm a liar. Sort of. I received an update email from the speed dating service and with minor hesitation, I opened it. Shame. Times must be rough because I'm actually entertaining the idea of speed dating again. As a disclaimer, however, I'm not doing it to find Mr. Right, Mr. Right Now, Mr. Wright, Mr. Come Sleep in my bed and I'll see if I like you tomorrow, I'm doing it for the pure joy that is blogging. I would definitely consider my adventures in speed dating to be blog-worthy! Don't you?

So "Cupid" dating events (as they are called) begin next month and I'm going to sign up. They pair patrons by age group and each date lasts for 6 minutes (perfect). My group--Professional Women ages 25-29 will be paired with Professional Men ages 30-36 (or something like that). My kind of date. I love oldies!!! So begins a really exciting series of blogs. I'll be sure to keep you posted. But I want your feedback...this may be my craziest venture yet.

watch my closet grow

After taking some time to think about my new life in magazine publishing I've decided that shopping for this job is going to be the best yet! I love shopping, but you knew that. I finally have a job where I have an image to maintain. Yes, yes I know it's lame to buy into an image, but what I mean is that magazine girls are suppossed to be uber glamourous and have wonderous wardrobes. I can't protest to either of these unproven theories.

Back to my point. I can't wait to start shopping. Unemployment has barred me from my usual amount of clothes purchasing so getting back in the swing of things will be nice. I can make purchases without having to wonder if I'll be able to afford the bus in three days (yes friends, i have a very poor relationship with money). So a few choice items I'm after:

-a gray cardigan from Anthropologie
- short/silk shift dress from In Lieu
-a Hermes belt (black)
-teal peep toes (damn me and those peep toes)
-a white pencil skirt
-A NEW BAG! (omg ya'll it's been 4 yrs. in the making, I deserve it)

I guess it goes without saying my salary has increased. Well, it doesn't really go without saying, because even at my most broke moments I was still shelling out my pathetic pennies on clothes I couldn't afford. The point is I have to be someone the sartorialist would take a photo of, I have to be someone Kim will blog about and say how fashion savvy I am, I have to be, "the hot slut of San Francisco." eww ok, not so much that last part...

Yay clothes

updates...

Omg, bad blogger in full force...

I'm proud to announce that my days of unemployment are over. It was fun while it lasted--I think. I'm begin working for a fairly well-known magazine, which is just what I've always wanted. I don't think I've ever been this excited about a new job. How sweet is it, that you my devoted readers have followed me from one job to the next. Don't expect anymore talk of unemployment or job searching or job changing...this one has serious staying power. I'm not leaving unless they kick me out.

In other news Monte Carlo Night is almost here and I cannot wait. I want to see all of our hard work come together and I want to be able to sleep at night without worry about emails, phone calls, and to-do lists.

I'm tired. But there is always time for dlisted.