I HATE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH

I desperately miss my bed.

I'm staring at my couch in contempt right now. I'm exhausted and about to go to sleep on it. But I hate it. I really, really miss my bed.

And, I might add, I'm stuck on some form of couch until July 5th. I'm just putting it out there so you know. And I'm not saying that I'd sleep in just anyone's bed, but I'm kind of saying, that I'd sleep in most forms of bed. Just, you know, so you know. Ok then. Good night.

My apt. is sad :(

11:27am. Movers have been hear nearly 2 hours doing their thing. And they be done. Just took the last of it, my bed frame, down the stairs. So now I'm trying to figure out where I'll be sleeping. It's looking like I'm on our couch for like 5 nights which really sux and is bad for my neck and back.
So then, if you're reading this and you want to give up your bed for me, I'll take it.

And thus the countdown begins. I have several days of fun in the sun left here and then on Sunday afternoon I'm heading north. It promises to be a miserable drive, too, considering that I have a wedding here on Sat night and thus will likely be all hung-over and sleepy for my drive. I will also likely be in sappy-mode starting to miss LA and my friends so if you have a heart call me on Sunday and keep me entertained during my drive ok?

You know what's funny? You may have noticed that I totally sold out. I put ads on my blog. Don't hate. But the funny thing. I guess they kind of put up ads that are semi-relevant to your content right? The first day, the first ad that popped up was for steel cut oats, which as you may know I steel-cut-apart b/c I think they're totally stupid. So then naturally they're advertising their stuff on my blog. Oh, the irony.

So anyway, the movers just left. It's all dusty in here now. I think all the moving kicked dust up and stuff. Anyway. Just remember to let me know if you have a bed for me. I'm out.

Fun with numbers: my weekend in SDiego

I went down to SD just for the weekend to visit Liz, of delicious cookie fame, and as an added bonus Beebs was in town visiting her sister so Veeve and Freds drove up as well for one special Saturday night. Unrelated, Liz and I were discussing the James Frey novels yesterday, he’s that dude that got in trouble for exaggerating in his non-fiction works. Liz and I decided we could care less and in my opinion all he was doing was using a little hyperbole to spice things up and make a better story. B/c which gets more pity if I’m telling you how cold it is during a DC winter “Shit, it’s like 34 here!” Or: “Damn, it’s seriously negative one thousand degrees!” And which makes you hurry out to the curb faster when I’m coming to pick up you: me being 8 blocks away, or me being 1 block away? Right. You see now don’t you. Not that hyperbole has anything to do with SDiego. Anyway, so some numbers from the weekend:

10: Number of vodka rocks it would’ve taken me to get me to stay at Shout House, God-awful piano bar filled with smelly, overweight Red Sox fans for >20 minutes.

23ish: Number of men standing around the dance floor looking very creepy and not dancing at bar #2.

1: Number of certified pedophiles looking VERY creepy and not dancing at bar #2.

17: Number of times Veeve talked to herself about how fantastic it was to have her camera with her.

98: Number of pics Veeve took on Sat night.

2: Number of pics of Freds’ ass we have, after Fred mooned the Gaslamp District.

1: Number of times Freds lifted up my dress to expose my ass to the Gaslamp Distict.

13: Number of profanities that Freds’ lifting up my dress elicited from my mouth.

23: Number of times I tripped over said dress, my own dress.

2: Number of times a guy told me: “That’s a great dress. I’m NOT hitting on you. I just really like your dress.” Thanks for the honesty.

5: Number of girls we tried to fit into a rickshaw. Denied.

1 million: Number of times someone made fun of my voice in SDiego.

Only 1: Number of times Veeve got so mad at someone for making fun of my voice that she screamed at them about my nodules.

4: Number of disgusting jalepeno poppers I ate at the end of the evening.

65: Number of times Liz and I whined about missing Pizza Mart.

38: Number of times I said “what it is?” or “what it do?” I laughed every time. I’m still laughing. I’m laughing right now. What it do?

16: Number of numbers I did before I got bored of this game.

So then. I watched Goodfellas tonight. As Soprano’s is done and I needed some final Jason and Warren tv-watching time so that was our pick. On my way out we discussed what was going on this week. Pretty much nothing is going on. We discussed brunching one day. It must be later than 11 or so b/c that is about when I wake up these days but can’t start any later than noon b/c that would throw Warren off of his napping schedule.

That is pretty much pathetic.

Congratulations on Graduating...Again.

That's what the robe-people told a friend when she went to pick up her gown.

Anyway. Well there you have it. That is me there, in the MASTER'S robe. It's fancier than your avg Bachelor's robe. It has these wingy-style sleeves and stuff. Also got to wear a hood. That was neat I suppose. Want to know the history behind this photo? I apparently told Dick and Jane to wait for me in the audience section and that I'd come get them after the ceremony, but I forgot, I guess. So I headed up to the reception, held at my school, and went to drop off my robe b/c it sucked to wear. Then I waited for D&J to follow the huge mass of people to the reception. And I waited. Waited some more. Then I got a little nervous for them so I went back.

Jane was sitting shivering in her dress looking about to cry. Dick had run off to find me. He was up the Jaans (sp?) Steps with all the undergrads. Why the hell he went up there to find me, instead of following the entire MBA population, I have no idea. But I was in t-r-o-u-b-l-e. I had left Jane, she was almost in tears. I had removed my robe. Didn't I know they'd want a pic with me in my robe? Not a good scene. So eventually I found a kind classmate, who happens to be a 6 foot tall boy, and borrowed his costume, and dressed quickly for this lovely pic. And that, my dears, is the story of this pic.

The rest of the weekend, I served as a concierge, social director, and chauffeur. I feel bad saying it, but it was rather nice not having the little Greggy around. That trek out to south central really is unpleasant. We got to cut down our car time a bit w/out him around. Although the drive to my friend's parents' house in Encino, of Encino Man fame, kind of made up for that. BTW, I want to thank my friends for pointing out that they, too, are unable to hear me on the phone as I talk too quickly, and that I have no sense of direction and am prone to getting lost. You guys are really great friends. I'll be sure to hype up your faults to your parents next time we're all together.

I do have to say, I picked great restaurants for the weekend. Melisse and Cobra's both went over tremendously well. I have a question: when I'm really enjoying food, do I kind of make an orgasmic face where my eyes are half closed and almost roll back a bit? B/c I think my mom does. And it really concerned me. B/c we're related, you know, and you can pick up tendencies. Sort of reminds me about that time I emailed the FEMBA listserv about food v. sex. Anyway.

Now it's Monday. I woke up at 10, well really I woke up at 9 but as I had nothing to do, really, I stayed in bed another hour. I then looked through approximately 8 years of photos as I decided which albums will be moving to SF with me and which are headed home to Indy. I currently have accumulated 5 bags of clothing headed for Goodwill, and I have stack of shoes and bags covering my floor that will go as well. My calendar is empty save for the evenings which are blocked off for various dinners.

Well then, I'm off to run errands. I actually do need to start packing this place up :( If anyone has seen my past two years, please let them know I said hello, and that I wonder where they went so fast.

Never before have I needed 2 solid days of recovery.

So I got back from Vegas on what, Monday? Yes, Monday. And it’s now Thursday. And I think it’s safe to say that I am at last recovered. This past weekend was what we fondly refer to as Dis-O, where all the second years gather in Vegas to consume vast quantities of tasty drinks, gamble away the government loan money we still have remaining, shake our asses all over each other, and generally enjoy the desert sun. Since a weekend is a long time I’ll do this highlight style. So keep in mind that these highlights are purely my own and you may find them highlight-like at all. If you don’t like them I invite you to create and post your own set of highlights. Or just get over yourself.

Highlight #1 (O reveals disgusting information): Sat night was spent dining at Fix and then dancing at Caramel and Light at the Bellag in honor of XTina’s bach party + the fact that I met Sauj’s MIT friends who are pretty much awesome. I don’t know who is adopting who, but someone is adopting someone. Anyway. So at dinner a certain section mate’s sig-o sat beside me. Champagne apparently makes her talk about how great her honey’s ass is. She also discussed other assets. Use your imagination. I think I barely avoided throwing up in my mouth. I will never, ever let her drink champagne in my presence again.

Highlight #2 (worst pick-up line ever): Don’t ever say this to a girl: “I mean, not that we’re going to have sex, but, if we did have sex, I have this feeling that it’s pretty much amazing. I’m talking, you’d be moaning and screaming.” Wow, please, take me home. That was so classy. That’s what I love most about Vegas.

Highlight #3 (I think I’m over strip clubs): Around 1:30 we were danced out and headed to the Crazy Horse II, which, no lies here, I’ve enjoyed before. There was actually much discussion in Vegas about how most women actually prefer to watch female strippers over male strippers. I guess it’s b/c men’s bodies can be hot but aren’t all that theoretically sexy to begin with and then when you put them in gross little man thongs and make them gyrate in ways that are essentially feminine they really aren’t sexy. Thank you Fins for enlightening me with this theory. I finally have a plausible explanation. At any rate, so I’m at the Crazy Horse. And I think it’s when I’m in the bathroom watching a gross stripper have a heart to heart with the gross bathroom attendant, or maybe when I see the worst boob job ever up on stage at one point, or maybe when I see what some me will welcome into their faces by women who smell mostly like Victoria’s Secret Sparkling Pear with a touch o’ vag that I realized that stripping is not all that I’d cracked it up to be. Time to give up on that career. Good thing I have something with bleach lined up. So anyway, we were about to leave when Sauj was dragged (and when I say dragged I mean literally, Brle) back in, and being nice, didn’t want to leave her, so followed. I ordered a RedBullV and lazily watched the boobies, and it hit me how badly I didn’t want to be there. According to Jason I turned incredibly cunty at that point and went home. And hence the epiphany: I guess I’m over strip clubs.

Highlight #4 (I recover from the SC through food): I arrived home shortly after 3. Last McDonald’s call at the Monte Carlo: 3. And I’m minutes late. I let them announce at least 10 times that they are C-L-O-S-E-D and then literally threw myself onto the counter and begged for food. Them: “Umm, again, we’re CLOSED.” Me: “No, oh no, you don’t understand. I think I might die tomorrow if you don’t give me food and it will be mostly your fault. Seriously I’m going to vomit everywhere if you don’t give me…those fries, those ones right there. And a sandwich?” Them: “We have one burger.” Me: “Yes, ok, great, one burger. And the fries.” [which are size massive super fat thighs large] I have a credit card.” Them: “WHAT? Credit card machine is closed.” Me: “I have $2.” Them: “No, you have $3.” Me: “I have $3.” Them: “Your food is $3. Miraculous. Goodbye.” The fries were gone within less than 3 min is my guess. Meliss was about to ask for some when I returned to the room but she was too late. I was one hungry lady.

Highlight #5 (ReHab in its entirety): I think we had 2 or 3 alarms set for the morning so we could wake up and grab chairs at ReHab. Someone new got angry every time a new alarm went off. I was trying to be the motivator. We rolled into Rehab by 10:30ish. Not a chair in sight. Shoulda listened, bitches. So I don’t know how to describe Rehab, but I think I have found my latest obsession.

If I lived the jet-set life, and I’m totally open to finding a rich husband who would allow me and encourage me to do so, then I totally would, then I would do Rehab like every single Sunday. It’s hot, it’s sunny, it’s a massive pool, and you get to dance in the pool with your drink in hand. I kissed a gay boy who’s incredibly hot and I won’t put his name on here but you might be able to guess if you use your best ESP powers, and I also danced in my swimsuit up on a pole. This was all caught on video which at the time I was very entertained by so I hammed it up. Now in retrospect I guess that will kill my political career. Which is ok, b/c you know, I have no political career, nor do I want one. Roberto was highly entertaining.

If I ever have to see him wearing that damn t-shirt again I might kill myself. Confirmations of fake breasts within the Ander community were made. Check. And Mark: I’m so glad to see that the water does not prevent you from twirling your dancing partners with wild abandon. You are most lucky that I didn’t puke club sandwich up all over you. Speaking of club sandwiches, so at one point I braked for lunch and upon returning was ridiculously cold. I guess I was having some sort of withdrawl from LIT’s. So I’m like “Aly! Let’s find a hot tub!” we find one and she’s all, “I really don’t think you want to go in that.” And I’m all, “yes, I totally do.” And she tells me, “No, Lindy, I really don’t think you do. There are definitely people having sex in that hot tub, right now, in front of us.” And you know what? She was right. So that about sums up Rehab.

Highlight #6 (Bouchon): Speaks for itself. Oysters and steak frites. Life does not get better.

Highlight #7 (Alexandra): I never know you could dance like that. Well done.

Highlight #8 (Mikey): Hey, there, friend. Are you sure you’re into dudes? B/c that attempted hand up skirts? And that dancing? Potentially says otherwise.

Highlight #9 (mystery escort): Some dude approached me on the dance floor. He knew my name. Asked me to come with me. Said he had to “take me to someone. Someone I’d left behind.” Took me up to the VIP area. The mystery guest was Kim, who I from this point onward will refer to as Captain Subtle, given that she is not subtle whatsoever, and my escort was her friend Dick, even though she prefers to call him David. Captain Subtle: I appreciate you interrupting my innocent makeout session not once (when you crammed a drink into my hand), but twice (when you screamed at me from 20 feet down the hall). I do heart you, you little twit.

Highlight #10 (insert stuff here): Aly, I love you. I am forever indebted to you for putting up with my shenanigans. Stan: go f’ yourself for not wanting to endure a lunch and hearing about “Lindy’s weekend in Vegas.”

Highlight #11 (glorious food): Pizza, poolside, at “Relax,” the Monday-sister of Rehab. Does a body good. Actually does parts of the body good. Some bad. Who cares. Oh. For the record. Hard Rock: when you say “relax,” I’m thinking quiet music played at a reasonable volume. Apparently you don’t. I guess you think that house played at a ridiculously gross volume is relaxing. I think more people agree with me than you, just you know, an FYO.

Highlight #12. No. Lowlight #12 (terrible food): J – I think the milkshake idea was yours. I blame you for my awful, dreadful stomach ache and take no personal account for my own actions.

Wow, well, I guess I’m all out of highlights. I’d really like one more b/c I prefer odd numbers to even numbers and thus hate ending on 12, but you can’t force it. Plus, I guess that 13 is an unlucky number so maybe I’m lucky after all. I am considering combining or losing a highlight to have 11, but that really isn’t happening. So then, I have spent the afternoon with my parents at the Design Center out on Melrose looking at fabrics and rugs and really that took a lot out of me. Even the Pinkberry I had can’t fix the damage done there. So I think I need an hour of rest before I return to their hotel to pick them out. So, don’t be cunty (except for you Jason b/c we all know it’s unavoidable for you), wish me a happy graduation, and the end.

Make it stop, please make it stop!!!

Yo bitches. So my left eye has been twitching since Santa Barbara last weekend. A whole week, my eye has been twitching. You can't see it, but I can feel it, and it's totally and completely annoying. It has twitched every this past week for like 3-4 minute intervals, at least 4 times daily. I can't tell you how much it pains me. I think I'm dying.

Apparently it's due to 1) lack of sleep, or 2) a potassium deficiency. I went out on Tuesday night and Wed night. And Thurs night, oh, and Friday. And Saturday. I think Veeve is going to kill me over the discrepancy b/t our current lifestyles. And I can't sleep in b/c even if I try those trash-diggers are really getting to me lately. I wake up at 7:30am typically, and then have to spend the rest of my morning hours sleeping (poorly) with a pillow over my head. I'm worried that I'm going to suffocate myself one of these days. I need to sleep with ear plugs. And a sleeping mask. In Kitson today I saw on that said "skinny bitch" on it. What do you think? Oh, ps, I saw a chick that was likely around 10 years old today in Kitson (and I think she was getting stuff bought for her, bleh, skinny bitch) and I think she had just gotten a rinoplasty. Considering Dick is a boob doctor, I know rino recovery when I see it. I'm pretty much an expert. Again, seriously, I so need to leave LA.

Anyway, where were we. Oh yes, eye twitch. So aside from the lack of sleep, I also think I've not eaten a piece of fruit let alone a banana in about two weeks. Yep, I'm finishing up school in a reallllll healthy styl-o. So tonight folks, post-Sops/Entourage gathering, I'll be going home, sleeping my ass off, and then eating like 5 bananas tomorrow. I did actually buy the 5 bananas today.

In other grocery shopping news, I'm happy to announce that my favorite Gatorade flavor ever, Fierce Lime, which was sadly taken OFF the market years ago, is back on shelves. It's lighter in color and they now call it Lime Rain or something, but it's the same shit and I'm H-A-P-P-Y. Woo. Hoo.

BTW, what's up with name changes? Do you know T.I. changed his name to T.I.P.? Why the f' did he do that? Does that even make sense? T.I. was dumb anyway. Adding a P does nothing for the dude. I'll give him credit - Big Things Poppin is a kickin' track but really, the name change, not so much Poppin'. I am at Warren and Jason's ps. I think they just made fun of me. I'm not entirely sure why or how, but I think it happened. Bastards. Alright then. I'm out.

Awkward times three. Wow.

Guess what guess what! I never have celeb sightings. Well I do sometimes, but very rarely, and they usually suck anyway. Or when they're good, like Brucey W, I f them up by acting a fool.

Well, well, well. I had a good one today! Was at Polish, my nail salon of choice, getting the little guys painted pink, and in walked Kristin Davis, everyone's fav Sex and the City character (Charlotte). Yes, she is as pretty in person as she is on tv. She was also carrying the cutest little bag, it was a bright violet suede w/ a chain strap. I tried to see the designer but couldn't make it out. Her voice is quite distinctive, and this is coming from me, so mind you I KNOW distinctive voices. She kept her sunglasses on the whole time. This I find slightly off. I guess they have to do it for some reason or another...whatever...but sunglasses or not it totally does nothing to disguise her. In fact, it makes her stand out more.

But anyway. Before my sighting and after my yoga, I had awkward moment #3 of the weekend. I was just saying the other day how bad things come in threes, so thank G_d that was #3, but honestly, I feel cursed. The first was Thursday night. I won't go into the details, but rest assured, it was tremendously awkward. Awkward moment #2 was last night. It was cute. We both ignored each other for like 30 minutes. Finally I said hi. Response: "Oh, hey there!" Said in a way of surprise, like, oh, hey, didn't see you there! Really? We've been with our friends and within 10 feet of one another for the past 30 minutes, and I also noticed you eyeing me down earlier, but yes, sure, if you'd like to otherwise pretend you just now noticed my presence, you do that kiddo. As for #3, too much effort to go into that for now.

As for how I manage to create situations that eventually lead to awkwardness...well, I'm not sure how it reflects on me. I'd prefer just to ignore it and pretend it actually is not consequences to any actions I've done, but rather just some sort of bad luck or something. And that makes me feel better.

Our chance to relive elementary school talent shows. Except don't recall hangovers in those days.

Boy do I feel great today. Real super great. It was probably the whiskey, as I decided the other night while Karaoke-ing that sipping whiskey on the rocks would be my new drink. Could've also been the vodka sodas, or perhaps the beer, or I don't, the lemon drop shot that was more like 8 shots in one glass. Can't really pinpoint it, but when my phone rang at 10:30am and I got up to turn it off, stuff was spinning, namely, every little bit of stuff in my room.

So then when I got up and needed to eat, I thought, oh, I'm going to eat Taco Bell, b/c I've been craving it for like 3 weeks now. Don't worry, I ate it, so I got that craving out of my system and won't need it again for a while I'm guessing. Especially since after I ate it I kind of wanted to throw up everywhere. I am mostly full of good ideas today.

I think I'm recovered now, which is good given that it's 6pm and I've accomplished pretty much nothing at all this entire day. Oh Cabaret was last night. I believe that I blogged about Cabaret last year...which means I've been blogging for over a year, which is weird. Anyway. We did the whole Bollywood Dance thing again. Different costumes, different moves, same old deal. I think we messed up a lot. But, we did it with big happy smiles on our faces, and I personally enjoyed every minute of my bad dancing up there, so good times, good times.

I still find the entire concept of Cabaret just weird. My parents called this morning, they were very impressed I'm sure that their graduate student was rolling out of bed around 11:15am on a Friday, and I had to explain what last night was. Granted, I love Cabaret, but I think when I tell my friends and fam that I performed in what is essentially a talent show, at the age of 26, they probably get a little miffed. It just doesn't seem normal. But then again, I do live in a country where we, by choice, watch washed-up D-list celebs learn ballroom dancing, so...I don't know. Maybe it's really not so weird.

Whatever. All I know, is that I think that come next May, I'm going to be rather sad that I don't get to go to dance practices multiple times per week to ishka-iskha-turn-the-page-ishka-ishka-scoop-the-baby and wear a bindi and play dancer on a stage. I might just have to host my own talent show or something.

Well then, I promised myself I'd write at least two pages of my negotiations paper before dinner and, here we are, on the couch, and I'm definitely not writing about my abilities to negotiate. Nope, not at all. So I'll just go do that now.