Saturday, September 10, 2005



I almost considered blogging drunk last night. Which (a) would have been a really bad idea and (b) scares me that it even appealed to me. I mean, the whole city of L.A. on a Friday night, and I can't wait to come home to my computer? That's a little sad. Of course, the way I ultimately spent the second half of my evening wasn't much better. I inflicted upon my roommate the playing of or my spoken word version of lines from songs that indicated my feelings for the boy i'm in love with and his new snobby friends (i.e. "they don't love you like i love you" and "their love is only a fraction of what i can give to you" - you see the point I'm going for). Then I passed out halfway through All the Real Girls, which seemed like a pretty good movie, but I was too busy yelling insults at the lead characters for being in love to really notice. Oh, and I probably sent an ill-advised text message to the boy I'm in love with asking him when exactly I became worthless to him. Sometimes I do some stupid shit.

Friday, September 09, 2005



Just so you know that boys are not the only thing that I get abnormally attached to, I'm also like that with TV shows and, even moreso, sports teams. My favorite sports team is the Patriots. I've loved them since they were a very crappy team, but the last few years, they pretty much kick ass. And it's gotten to this really weird place where I depend on them to be the thing in my life that goes right. I know I'll still love them even if they start losing, but for the moment, I'm counting on them to carry me through my miserable tortured little life.
I recall one recent Super Bowl experience at which I announced to my amassed friends that absolutely everything in my life was miserable except the Patriots, and if they didn't win, I was just going to give up entirely. And in retrospect, that's a little scary, now, isn't it? I mean, I hadn't bet money on the game. The win or loss wasn't going to effect my personal existence in any meaningful way. But, still I invested myself entirely in how it was going to turn out.
I'm not going to stop loving the Patriots, and hell, to be honest, I'm probably not going to stop being scary about it either. But sometimes I wonder if I should. I guess I wonder if I SHOULD do a lot of things that don't have a snowball's chance in hell of happening though. This is just one to add to the list.
Anyway, they played their first game of the season last night and, as is so often the case, they didn't let me down. Tom Brady is like the best man in my life. Except I think he might be a Republican. Yuck.

Thursday, September 08, 2005



So, I sent a slightly inebriated email to the boy I'm in love with after I got home last night, basically complaining about the fact that he likes other people more than me. It was actually fairly nicely written and not nearly as passive-aggressive as some of my past missives to him. And he went apeshit about it. We spent the entire morning sending increasingly hostile emails back and forth to each other about how I am impossibly clingy and he is cruelly cold and distant. He finally sent me an email saying that there was just nothing else to say to eachother and we should seek out greener pastures. I went to lunch, sat in my car in the dark subterranean garage and sobbed uncontrollably, thinking about how sick of me he is and how I'm losing him forever. I came back from lunch to find an email explaining that he wasn't really mad at me, and just felt like being a brat for a while. I almost burst into sobs all over again. I think perhaps he doesn't take our relationship quite as seriously as I do.



I'm a very good stalker. There's not that many things I excel at, so I'm really kind of proud to have a skill that really allows me to shine. Of course, I don't often get the chance to revel in it publicly, since stalking isn't all that socially accepted, sadly.
Last night, I went out to a bar with the boy I'm in love with. As we walked into the dark room, I immediately recognized someone sitting in the corner, but couldn't quite place him. My boy recognized him too, went over, said hi, and was introduced to mystery boy's friends, who he hadn't met before. Somewhere about this time, looking at the three people seated at the table, I knew exactly where I knew ALL OF them from. Myspace. They aren't friends of my boy, but they're friends of his friends. It was almost unsettling to meet these people for the first time, when I already know such intimate details of their lives from their profiles and blogs.
After we sat down at our own table, my boy, for the first time, talked to me about all his music-scene Myspace friends, who I'm not allowed to intermingle with. And I can't say that I wasn't a bit proud to find out that the girls I thought he'd be into are the girls he is into. The girls who are after him that he's trying to get away from? Called them, too. Even the relationships between these people, who I've never met or even seen in person, who has dated who or likes who, I had pretty well figured out just from their little pieces of the internet. The internet really is a stalker's best friend.
So, that's it- I'm very impressed with myself. I rock at internet stalking (though these friendster/myspace things do so much of the work for me, it does take quite a bit of the challenge out). I wish this skill were just a bit more marketable or useful in regular life, but it helps me keep tabs on the boy I'm in love with pretty damned well, so I'll take it.

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