sunday psychosis

It's an odd Sunday. I have undoubtly spent my Sunday engaging in what some might label as odd behavior. It is now 2:10pm and I am still in my pajamas. I have cleaned my bathroom, washed every (all 4) dish in the sink, polished my bedroom floor, dusted the entire apartment, swept the hallway and living room and tended to went laundry. I have also successfully read half of the May issue of Vogue, drank two cups of coffee, arranged my underwear drawer (by color and style), and posted one complete (and fairly lenghty) blog entry. I attribute all of my cleaning and organization (there is always more to be done) to my wanting to feel in control. I believe I've touched on this issue in the past. By cleaning, arranging, colorizing, organizing and completing things I feel in control.

I spent the first two hours of the morning looking out of the bay window in the living room (with my coffee & Vogue) and listening to Edith Piaf on le pod. During those moments when I wasn't sipping or reading I was romanticizing thoughts of living somewhere else or just being somewhere else at that moment. I've been doing that a lot lately. Perhaps it's because I have no job so I'm left with a lot of time to entertain potentially lethal thoughts. This is probaby indicative of some sort of change heading my way. A lot of people told me not to expect some great moment where everything comes to me. I consider myself a realist for the most part and I'm not one to wait for "the next big thing." But I guess I can argue that something feels different here. And I think some big thought is brewing in my brain (I just don't know what it is yet). I only wonder when this does happen will I have to tear down my apartment building then rebuild it in order to gain control of all the change?

affecting the effect of conversation

Anyone can tell you what interesting thing happened to them last Tuesday, they can tell you what they ate for lunch two hours ago, they can tell you why they chose to wear a purple hat with a large brown plume that tilts to the left, or they can tell you all about how they ended up in this very spot talking to you. However, there is a skill that one must possess when telling these little diddies. I prefer to think of it as an art. It's known as the art of story-telling (with which I'm sure you are familiar). And in this latest phase of my "oh so fabulous" (HA) life, I learn that fewer and fewer people are skilled story-tellers.

I guess after spending the second half of my university (sounds more fancy than college) career in workshops critiquing, analyzing, admiring, sneering, and scoffing at other people's work I developed a true disdain for the unnecessary. I, in fact, became rather candid about my dislike for unnecessary information during these workshops. It's something that I religiously tried to keep from doing in my own work. While I do believe that back story has relevance and is often needed to understand the tale ahead, I do not need to know every single detail.

Hmmm detail. It's important to pepper a a tale with detail, but there is a limit, I believe. I've encountered a number of stories as of late--most presumably a result of people being in their twenties and wanting to do nothing other than talk of themselves (is this not the narcissistic nature of my blog as well? yeeeeesss). These gruesome moments have unfortunately required my ears to become exposed to every nuance of their life. I'm forced to know why they think this or that about global warming, why they have or have not reacted to an odd phone call from last night, how long they have known about the mold growing in their bathtub, the t-shirt they were wearing when they began the sixth grade, what their dentist smells like...I'm beginning to exaggerated but I'm finding that people are so fixated on filling me in that the initial thought becomes lost (both by me--because I stop listening and by them). They have veered so far from their point that I don't care anymore and often become frustrated with them and their happening.

I'm pretty much saying discretion should be used more often. Invidiuals should really select their topics with choice. And any skilled linguist knows you can certainly veer off topic, but be smart about it, know how to jump but be able to keep your
audience engaged or know how to bring them right back to your original thought. It's really a skill. I have a habit of jumping off topic (just read this blog), but I think with each entry I'm learning how to keep your interest and not bore you with insignificant detail. It goes without saying (or not)I'm not interested in why you are crying about the cost of sprouted wheat bread when we're talking about why you haven't called your best friend in over thirty days.

dlisted quote of the day

As always, I must give you the goodness that is dlisted:

"They don't make hairless Italians, so he must've shaved that shit off. He totally has chicken chest, but I'd still get down with that."

-Michael K.

Chicken Chest? How perfect is that. Listen for it, because I'll be using it.


Thanks MK

BUI (blogging under the influence)

I never blog after I'm fresh off of an evening of drinking. Things change, right? Well I had an eventful evening --so far i've made abou 10 mistakes, but managed to correct them all0--drunk blogging is not good.

I'm a little annoyed with our beloved Hottender...oh that reoccuring character (who has , I'm sure, somehow found a ink to my blog and now knows what i say and this could be the reasion for the demise of our date number two...whateves). He has successfully frustrated me as usual. This is no secret. I will have to touch on it tomorrow. I'm too sleepy. But you will all be glad to know that I have bangs again! yay.

Happy Friday

men in tights? of course not

Men in San Francisco are much more stylish than the women.

It's not rocket science to peg the most stylish cities around the globe. Paris, New York (I'm going next month), London, Milan, and others, I'm sure.

*I don't include L.A., because L.A. is not stylish in my opinion. While I have an affection for it the style, or lack thereof, is repulsive. The essence of being stylish hails from individualism (something this city does NOT promote. And though I do like the Angelenos have no fear of color the "style" seems very trite and insignificant in the grand scheme of fashion because it seems so...(I cannot find the word)orrather it's trying waaaay too hard and in the end looks sloppy. Enough of my tyraid.

Back on topic. San Franciso has it's own style, electic. However, many of the men who parade the city Timbuk2 bags slung across their bodies are very stylish and do a great job of conveying that via their wardrobe. I guess what I'm trying to say is, the men in this city wear clothes, and wear them well. They are selective, use great color combinations, and pick out things that fit nicely. Perhaps this is a result of so many creative-types (very attractive) running amuck throughout this 7 mile space. However, even those guys who ride bikes (oh and btw: there are some people men that are doing a bit too much or too little, I'm in the general, y'all) can pull of a nice look with nicely color denim, chic city sneakers, and hoodies w/ bright t-shirts underneath (so Hottender). The men of the financial district (whom I have a serious affection for, if young, dark haired and hot--not plump and oldy olsen) look stunning in their cheery colored button downs or yellow accents, navy suits and freshly polished shoes. I love the "guy on the bus" who dons the well pressed navy pants with brown shoes who simply reads the Times and listens to his 'pod or the guy who is a bit more causal, but really owning his look, no doubt.

Ahh but the ladies--another story, which I will not get into. I'm just going to leave you with the lovely thoughts of the "More Stylish than they know it," men of San Francisco.

*I'm attending a fashion show tomorrow (Zac Posen will be there) and I bet the boys will be in better attire. I'll report on Saturday.

fabulous/jobless (one in the same)

I must preface this entry by saying I have blogged...well I have about 7 drafts waiting to be completed. Thus I have not completely abandonded the world of chuntress.blogspot.

I believe that despite the fact that I'm jobless, per se, I've never been more social, more busy, and more excited about everything (except boys). I have successfully completed week 2 of joblessness and to be quite honest it's been so englightening. I'm starting to think more about my future, I've become more atuned to detail, I'm asking myself real questions about my life, and I'm meeting tons of new people. Last week was a whirlwinde of meetings. Not sure if you're aware, but I've taken on the exciting position of Campaign Manager for my friend. At 23, she has been nominated for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's 2007 Woman of the Year event (seriously, I think I type that phrase 43 times a day, yes, 43). I'm deep into it and working hard at helping her win, raise money, and pull off one of the most exciting nights San Francisco has to offer (tickets $50 see me if you want one and I know you do because you love card games and free booze).

Do you like my mixed in advertising? NO? shame on you!

So that's what is going on with me. Oh wait the banker has not called since 4/10 and I'm almost over it. Ego bruised, nonetheless. I met with this amazing pr woman last week, I met with an equally amazing creator of this high-end baby product (noodle & boo...go get it). For someone without a job I'm busy. I like this. I really do think that letting go of what felt secure was the best decision I've made all year! Join me in my celebration and let's get back to some real blogging--no more of this pumping myself up to be the HSL of the day.

hump day updates...

-I haven't read about "canoodling" today (it is only 9:32am)
-The Banker called (I didn't answer). We will schedule some hang out time for next week. As I guessed he's on a business trip.
-I'm still don't have a new job lined up
-I'm due to receive about 5 boxes of product within the next week
-Tuesday will be my spa day
-Ralph might be visiting this weekend

Nothing too exciting to report. I just want to keep this blogging thing going. I'm sure I'll be back later this afternoon with fun things to say.

worthy investment (banker)...

I'm on a roll. And this could be in conjunction with the fact that I will (as of Friday) be unemployed and I have to do something to pass the time. So blog number three today. It's all about a new "character." His name, "the Banker*." He's new on the scene. Actually that's a lie (I'm good at telling those). I met him back in February during a night of self-procured cocktails (red bull vodka)...ouch.

So we've had four date nights. Some friends have been candid about letting me know that the Banker and I are "dating." I say we've been on dates. This is not to say that I am opposed to dating, I just don't think we are officially dating yet because we haven't done either of the following:

a) had a Friday or Saturday night sleepover which turns into Saturday or Sunday morning paper/Vogue/coffee outing
b) run an errand together, i.e. grocery shop together, car wash, pick-up dry cleaning

Basically when we get coffee together we're an item. HA! I should be careful about what I say in the event that he either, someday reads this (because we fall madly in love and I divulge my guilty passion for blogging) or does a background search and finds that I have a meaningless blog that entertains those who don't talk to me about my life's craziness everyday.

So all that to say this...he seems interested...very interested. And I'm really beginning to take to it. I called him last night...HE HAS YET TO RETURN MY CALL. I fear the usual, he's lost interest (or he's on a business trip).

*I'm obsessed with the fact that he's an investment banker as I've been dying to date one since I was 18.

c'mon, crack me a smile

I cannot believe I have gone this long without talking about that fateful night...the night when I saw Mickey Avalon in le flesh. God, save me.

Now I knew seeing Mickey would be great. I knew I loved Mickey. But I had no idea that his naked crack would make me so excited! Crass? Yes, but oh so true.

As Mickey paraded onto the stage at Mezzanine--which is one of the skaniest places in SF--he donned his signature skinny jeans & studded belt. Because it was a chilly evening in the city he was complete with a mesh tank top (blech), a leather jacket (very similar to the one I own), and a maroon beanie to cover his luxurious curly's. I was taken aback by his nasal voice, his cockiness and the way he moved his little body. Mickey is somewhat femmie, which i guess is to be expected considering he spent some time as a male prostitute. I'm usually not a girl who's into femmie guys, but this one sends me over the top.

As the show began he sashayed across the stage, strategically removing articles of clothing until he was down to his jeans and black Converse. This kid is appropriately
tattooed and doesn't wear any panties (my favorite). As he poured water on the top of his head and let it trickle down it was apparent that he was drunk (and blown out of his mind I'm sure. I had hoped to get much closer to the stage, but unfortunately the rude concert-goers were shoving, pushing, and the like--certainly not a safe place for a lady!

It goes without saying that I feel deeper in love with Mickey after seeing
him, and his butt, in the flesh. I still stand by my claim that he looks like an old Jewish lady, but there's something about his confidence and his crass behavior that makes him obnoxiously desirable. His eyeliner was thick and his sweat was dripping. Typically I'd say "ew" to a man who pulled this garbage, but he began singing So Rich, So Pretty...sigh and I knew I could never go back. Back to those days before Mickey Avalon. I'd totally hit that! 'ya just a boy Mickey, ya just a toy Mickey..

canoodling?

Ok it's no secret that I am an avid reading of some p.o.s blog called, dlisted. Puh-lease who am I kidding, dlisted is number one of my list! That said Michael K. is always so good about posting celeb happenings, more specifically their love lives. Whenever I read a post about a new couple I get grossed out and annoyed. Why do I continue to read that which makes me sick? Because a "source" always describes a new couple as "canoodling."

WTF? What is a "canoodle?" It makes me think of Annie's Bunny Pasta. The Chedder flavor. Yum. But really how many times have a read, "a source says the two were seen 'canoodling' at the club. They were holding hands, locking lips, and everything. They certainly weren't shy about whatever is going on between them." WHAT? Canoodle...chickencanoodle soup...canoodles with red sauce. I think I hate, no, I know I hate this word. If I'm not thinking of dish of carbs and simple sugar, I imagine two idiots in the back of some club rubbing noses. EW.

Do you have any thoughts on the "canoodle?" It's making me sick. I'm going to play a game for the remainder of the week and count how many times I see a gossip post which uses the forbidden word...gasp!

dlisted quote of the day

In it's most pure form...

"...Damn. Alright then. I wish I had 10 bathrooms. More bathrooms equals more toilets equals moore pooping. Pooping is fun. What am I, 8? Don't answer that. "

-MK

*Amanda gets it.

birthday backwash

As I made clear in Sunday's post, yesterday was my 24th birthday. I'm sure it goes without saying that I was excited for the annual event (kind of like a good sale). However the turned out to be less than exciting--it gave me some of the worst anxiety ever. I will say this while, I continued to describe my celebration day as "the worst day ever," that isn't true. I hit a major bump which really put a damper on my day. I think I will remember my 24th birthday as one of the most "emotional days of my life." I cried alllllll day. It's not fair for me to call it "the worst" because so many people did such nice thing for me. Let's reflect on it:

*large bouquet of sunflowers from Wendy Lohan & Jen (coworkers/friends)
*adorable and sweet card from "Blaura," David & Oscar
*ice cream party at work, complete with a very "Glamour Girl" b-day card
*email from Amanda aka Ray Wonder & W
*cupcake and sweet card from Kate (my current housemate)
*birthday story from Mommy (she tells it every year)
*calls from Aunt Lisa, Aunt Becky, Nanny (grandmother), Joseph (my brother), my Dad, Paul Batista, Christina, Melissa, Yuki, Vanessa, Chris
*and I saw Mickey Avalon on Friday with Shena

So amisdt what seemed like complete mayhem, I was still treated like a true queen (not a bitchy homo queen or a drag queen, but a queen with a crown and servants)! I actually believe that the day's trouble somehow managed to make everything stand out so much more. And that's good. Welcome 24 with new wisedom and a greater appreciation for the little things (they really do go far). I think yesterday's treats also helped me to realize how many good people I have in my life...and I must be honest, I often forget.

p.s. I have a dinner date tomorrow and I will be back in full regalia to report on that. I'm going out with le banker (you should know about him).

tomorrow tomorrow, i'll love you tomorrow

I didn't blog once the entire month of march. Oh well.

Tomorrow is my BIRTHDAY!!!! Wish me lots and lots of love (and presents)...

closet confidential

HA...

It's no secret that I like to fill up my closet with items that I'll wear once or just never wear at all (this sounds more pretentious than it really is...everyone does it). So I will go and shop to my heart's content, bring home new purchases only to admire them or save them for special ocassions that never come to pass. All of my obsession with new clothing got me to thinking about "going out tops."

Let me start by saying, I loathe that terminology. Hmmm..."go-ing-out-tops." I hear this so much when I'm out shopping. Ladies vere off on their own mission then return to their shopping buddy, who is on the same mission, and engage in a conversation that sounds somewhat like this:

shopper a: Oh my god...isn't this cute? Oh my god, it's not even that expensive. So worth it. You know, you can never have enough GOING OUT TOPS!
shopper b: Totally..
shopper a: Because, seriously, I get so tired of spending a lot of money on GOING OUT TOPS. I just want like enough to last me for awhile.
shopper b: I know exactly what you mean...I go through the same thing alllll theeee tiiiime
shopper a: I just need like one GOING OUT TOP for tonight--something really cute and sexy, but not slutty, you know?

These conversations can last forever it sometimes seems. I mindlessly thumb through racks--not paying attention to what I'm picking up--and listen to these sort of girls. After a while I begin to make faces, roll my eyes, mumble under my breath and think "why...why...why must this broad keep saying GOING OUT TOPS?" I try desperately not to let this crap pharse slip from my lips. It just sounds so ridiculous. And really, what is a going out top? I usually think of some in a visually offensive color--bright green, hot pink, colbat blue, gold. But sometimes they are black. And often, a GOING OUT TOP is adorned with some cheap garb meant to boost the calibur of the top and make it seem much more exciting than it is--things like: glitter, rhinestones, metallic threading, beads, fancy ties. And you'll find a GOING OUT TOP in the as a halter cut, tube top (ugh), deep-v tank top, off-the-shoulder top and --my favorite--the neckline that plunges down to the belly button (sick).

I will not lie, I have "evening tops," but none of the above and I don't go out with friends shopping for GOING OUT TOPS--which I am beginning to believe is code for "I'm looking for a cheaply made top, perhaps something that will make my breasts look bigger, in a bright color. Something that will attract a sleeze ball, get me a few free drinks and radiate on my myspace page when I post my new photos on Sunday." oh GOING OUT TOP...

and the oscar goes to....

Coming to the realization that I have just spent the last 4 hours of my life watching "the biggest night in Hollywood," is somewhat disturbing. I've just used of 4 useful hours,that I won't be getting back, watching people collect naked, bronze statues. I decided this evening, about half way through the program, that the Oscars are boring. They are boring in a Saks Fifth Avenue sort of way. It seems glamorous, people always rave about it, it's a big deal within it's world, but at the end of the day it's dull.

I didn't see very many of the nominated films this year, so I prided myself on watching for the fashion. It was much better than the 2005 Oscars...gasp. Cameron Diaz looked a dream and Reese was a gem. I'm sure my gossip blogs will be all about the Oscars and the drama of post-ceromony parties (Vanity Fair) tomorrow. I have nothing to say about winnings. I though they were fair and rightly distributed. Actors work hard--they also play hard, get paid well, and rack up loads of free stuff in the week before the event.

The Oscars bore me. I'll watch next year, comment on the dresses, the movies and no doubt, complain that I have waisted four (or more) hours of my life. The end.

happy burfday, chuntress (belated)

happy birthday chuntress...you hot slut







I'm such a bad parent. If my blog were my child it would probably be suffering from third degree burns, hungry, crying, and preparing for a life of therapy (that insurance will not cover). So bring on the beta-blockers for my blog, because it's parent is a day late on wishing it's sexy lil' ass a happy birthday!!!! Who's bringing me cupcakes?


*This is worse than that stupid bear who wanted to tell the moon happy birthday...you can't give the moon a hat, loser. The same way that I can't give me blog a birthday party--I'm always looking for a reason to party...

do you promise to love your sushi until death do you part?

I had the pleasure of joining Blaura, her new hubby David, their friend Mike and Ms. Leslie for an evening of sushi (on the really hot plates Leslie and I got them for their wedding). No, we didn't go out to some fancy Japanese resty and order to our tummy's content. Instead we made sushi ourselves. I have to say this has got to be one of my new favorite activities! I can't wait to get myself a rolling mat and go to town...Watch out Sushi Roku! I'm really good at making sushi--David can attest to that.

This was my first meal with Laura and David since their wedding. I was lucky enough to enjoy two pre-ceromonial meals. And this one was super exciting because their super hot (and black) dog, Oscar joined, we talked and laughed a lot, David informed me (because he's the best pilot ever) that "if shit goes wrong at take-off you're fucked," and Laura played the banjo...talent, she's got it.

Reader, you never see me getting mushy. You've seen me strange, emotional, cryptic, charming, psychotic, and obnoxious, but never mushy. Well Laura and David make me full mushy (they must be magic). They're very happy and very cute...and I feel genuine happiness for them. They are so much fun to be around and I'm sure that because they make their own sushi their love will last forever. Even though I'm late I still have to say it...HAPPY WEDDING LAURA AND DAVID!

choice language of champions

I'm convinced that a short month robs bloggers of the will to post---makes them lose motivation. That drive, that deep burning desire to blog is somehow lost...or bloggers are too busy boozing and bitching verbally to scribe all of those fascinating things going on in their lives, non?

So anyhoo (mmm), I'm back, in full force pulsating with positive (ha) energy. As you, my dear readers, know I am absolutely taken by the opposite sex. I love the manipulate my situations with men, laugh about them, cry about them, analyze them, and go on about how things "could've happened." And as most of you know I like to give most of the men in my life pseudonyms---It makes things more interesting. Real names are boring and I hate boring.

That said, real chitter chatter with men is on the edge of boring. Thanks to carefully studying the language of guys I have decided to adopt that language and begin talking to them they way they talk to me (or us if you've ever experienced this). A few choice phrases include (but are not limited to):

a) You're so yummy (smile)
b) Get your sexy lil' ass over here (with a somewhat disgusted look on your face--as though you're annoyed)
c) You don't even know what you're doing to me right now, it's fuckin' crazy
d) I'm just so into it (said while biting lip)
e) Ugh. I just love your face
f) Yeah I bet (to follow a statement that he's made...make him seem really special and be sure to cut your eyes at him when saying this)
g) Let me look at you
h) --silence-- (it's so very male and so very golden)

*feel free at any time to add "right now." this makes everything so in the moment and they will love it.

I imagine that most men will be put off by this language and will, in turn feel challenged (which I guess is ok). But just think of how much fun it will be to watch a man react to this shit? I mean they want us to swoon (Clueless speak) over this sort of thing, so are we ladies wrong for wanting the same thing? I'll report back and tell you how my "sexylil' ass" is doing with this new "venture."


*do you think this kind of behavior explains why i'm still single? i vote yes...hahaha

yeah girl...

I strolled into work today after a very eventful weekend. A part of me is still riding the weekend wave. I had a visitor--Shena. I've spoken of her in the past, you're familiar.

I haven't had that much fun in San Francisco since...ever! As always we brought the crazy in high doses. Going to a bar in blonde wigs and false eyelashes had to be most notable event of the weekend...that is if you don't include calling Shena's ex (who we secretly believe is God), having a cuddle night with Hotender, Fag Friday's at the End Up, singing Mickey Avalon incessantly, photo shoots in the bathroom of that Ambassador, Pulp Fiction and Coronas, delirium at the sight of Saturday morning cartoons, considering a GG Bridge jump, and talking enough shit to fill the sewers of San Francisco. Below are a few photos for your enjoyment. I must say, I was really sad for her to leave. You know that I get sad when my guests leave. But this time I felt like a "liddo" piece of me was gone. I love my friend...because she's a "not a Marina gal!

mmm mmm mah baby's got a secret

I'm obsessed with secrets. I can't keep them, that's for sure. I guess this makes sense seeing as how I wake up in the morning ready for my gossip fix. I type fiercely waiting to read about someone's private moments and watch them spill all over the 'net in a matter of minutes.

Since we're talking secrets today, I have a few to share. My first, I love swag...but is that really a secret? Who doesn't lust for free stuff? It's become my new found hobby to find a product or location I like and manage to get it or tests its services free of charge. I do it with a smile and that charm that you all have come to adore (wink)--there it is again. Of course all of this is in the name of business so it really isn't as "low class" as it could be.

My other secret, I am so interested in celebrity sex tapes that I don't know what to do with myself. I don't consider this porn. Porn isn't nosey, celebrity sex tapes are. Celebrity sex tapes are unforgiving, strategically marketed, and so invasive--porn is not. I never had the chance to see "One Night in Paris" and I don't think I want to. I might catch something. But I did watch the Collin Farell tape...HA. And most recently, I watched the trailer for Kim Kardashain's tantilizing tape. HA. I love it. Some of the things these people say is crazy. I end up repeating it for days and laughing hysterically with each utterance. "Oh yes, you are my breakfast, lunch, and dinner darling" as said by Mr. Farell. I'm not a weirdo, just into other people's secrets.

I don't have many secrets. I have a big mouth so most people know everything about me. I like it that way. My sex tapes won't end up on the internet (*that was just for fun, I have no sex tapes)