When I Think About You, I 'Ipod Touch' Myself...I regret this title almost instantly.

I am thrilled beyond thrilled to have my Ipod Touch up and running, as you can tell by my pathetically unimaginative title. I'm so aware that that particular song has finagled itself onto Facebook bumper stickers and boardwalk T-shirts alike, but cut me some slack! I'm tired! Weakened by the midday food coma that comes after wolfing down a Potbelly sandwich and milkshake to boot!

But that is besides the point...the point that I have yet to make.

I'm off to Mexico in just about two days. I'm really excited. Trips are always fun, with the exception of the unavoidable airport tie ups and delays, and of course any sort of vacation which may or may not involve exploring the modern day man's take on colonial life. Those are never fun. But I digress.

Although I am excited (there really is no other word for my current emotional state) I am also sad about the end of the summer! It's creeping up on me so quickly now! Ugh! i feel as though i haven't done enough to make this two month break even qualify as a "summer". It feels more like an elongated Christmas break, where usually the inclement weather keeps me from going outside or anywhere for that matter, and I find myself sitting on the couch eating a lot. Work is draining too. It's all draining. Not very fun in the sun at ALL. And for those reasons I am happy to leave. To sunny Mexico.

Another point I'd like to make, is that although I have seemingly been wallowing in disgusting lethargy after an 8 hour work day six days a week, I have actually channeled my sluggishness and taken the time to watch many a David Lynch film. I've become semi-obsessed. I've Blue Velveted myself into developing a constant fear of waking up and finding Dennis Hopper, huffing what I will now refer to as Ether, seeing as I lack the power to recognize drugs based on the paraphernalia of choice (in this case, an oxygen mask...but I can tell you with utmost certainty now that that boy was not in need of any sort of respiratory assistance). I have watched Mulholland Drive twice, both times revering Naomi Watts to anyone who will listen. (I really do love her); and I have since moved on to watching Wild at Heart, starring a young, aviary Laura Dern. Nicholas Cage is also in the film, acting like a really bad Elvis impersonator and lifetime enthusiast (seriously, think Uncle Jessie from Full House, except not funny or cute...not that John Stamos was either...ahem). I have yet to finish it, but am liking it a lot.

So, onto David. I enjoy the fact that his films are all kind of the same, which I know makes it sound like he is unoriginal or can't get past the thing he's good at and explore his creativity, but I think that part of his charm is that all of his movies have violence, sexuality, insanity, and one crime at the very center of it all. Did I mention insanity? His movies evoke the same feeling you'd get if you vacationed with the Addams Family on an undercover porno set in Tucson, Arizona. Just a bunch of crazy shit all the time with odd characters coming in and out of every shot. It's exciting and appealing to me. I love David Lynch!

God, ok now I have to get back to work. BUT, as always, those are my thoughts thus far...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CSoWg3nBeU

Just a taste, above.

Woopie Ira Glass(es)!

As always on this blog we have a theme. Today's theme, Ira Glass and his glasses. What they represent, and how they weaseled their chic little selves into my life.

Let me begin by saying that I have had the pleasure of meeting Ira Glass. He is actually quite tall, handsome in a quirky, new age sort of way, and surprisingly and refreshingly different than on the show, This American Life (NPR listeners unite). He's not as happy as when he is on the air, speaking to thousands of pretentious nine-to-fivers on their way to work, but then again, attention and praise from society's enlightened folk will undeniably better someone's mood and consequently their ego. But I digress. He was pleasant and cool and seemed to be interested in what the small group of hopelessly indie kids waiting for him outside of the D.C venue had to say...which is really, quite nice of him. Nobody listens to kids, especially the sexually ambiguous, independent film watchers I'm usually friends with. Rest assured, I take everything with a nice, big grain of salt, though.

ANYWAY. My point is, I got glasses that mimic Ira's without meaning to. I have been desperate for Ray Bans (let my materialism kick in!), well, FAKE Ray Bans (that's better), for some time now (particularly the red ones that Keira Knightly has been seen wearing whilst jangling her bones), and yesterday, I found some at good old Urban Outfitters. The problem arose when the red Ray Bans I wanted had one of the Ray Band insignias missing, so instead, I settled for fake Ray Ban glasses that resemble those of the Ira, King of public radio and enlightener of the masses. Pictures will ensue soon enough so you can answer the question I'm just too timid to ask in person..."Hot or Not?" And those are my thoughts thus far...

Mood? Observant. Discoveries? Perversion.

As I sit here listening to Martha and the Vandellas, I am left to contemplate and reminisce about the various perversions I have witnessed in the past couple of days. Martha has nothing to do with perverts, I just happen to be listening to her right now on my break, that's all. Also, her song "Nowhere to Run" was on at the sandwich place, so I felt inclined to listen to it without the white noise of fellow District of Columbians belting out there orders. But I digress, yet again.

It's a scary world out there and odds are you're going to run into a pervert. Much like I did yesterday on my afternoon Metro ride. This particular creeper first asked me if he could sit by me (unnecessary kindness is your first clue to picking out an "up to no good" pervert), then proceeded to look over at my i pod and discuss his taste in music with me. Now, you may be thinking "That's not so bad. She's just being paranoid." Well, that my friends is how you end up in the bottom of a pit being asked to rub lotion on your skin. You can never be too careful! Also, his taste in music was SO Patrick Bateman. All I know is if he started talking to me about "Lady In Red" I would have instantly ripped out my mace and yelled "fire!". I'm seriously contemplating taking my boyfriend's advice and taking a pocket knife with me on the Metro...No, wait, I still think that's ridiculous and creepy to boot. Not to mention a knife could easily be wielded onto a victim. Mace and tasers ought to do it.

Another source of perversion, you ask? First story not enough? Vern Troyer has a sex tape. In which he proceeds to "make love" to his girlfriend 3 times. Chew on that for a while.



...And those are my thoughts thus far.

It's 4:20 PM and I am desperately wanting out. I know it's only been my third week, but work is tedious even when we do have things to do, and at the end of the day, all I have to look forward to is the resident homeless man who I've chatted to once or twice, and the grueling hour ride home. I kind of want my summer back. I don't care if I don't have a job! You know what they say: "The best things in life are free!", which depending on whether your a pop-culture buff or not, you could follow up with "I want money." Ugh this world is a complex place. Particularly in a clean, white, air conditioned office where you are left to wonder if the pad-Thai your boss ordered for you counts as being culturally savvy or involved in foreign affairs.

ANY WHOODLE. Nothing ground-breaking or stellar has happened. Mostly dull things and the occasional skirmish with the beau, the sister, the friend, whatever. I did re-watch The Others last night. I found myself, once again, scared out of my wits. The thought of things creaking in an isolated, seemingly haunted big house is part one of the classical recipe for shitting your pants with fear. Not to mention Nicole Kidman (playing herself, mind you) is really eerie and unsettling. As are those pale, Vitamin C lacking children she owns. Shudder.

So to complete my lackluster life of a middle aged woman (which I am too young to lead, by the way...) I have to take care of a "girlfriend's" cats. That's right CATS (by the way don't you love how older women refer to other women friends as "girlfriends"? Also, the bathroom becomes the "powder room" or "the little girl's room" or something equally as infantile and equally as discomforting). There are two of them and I have to give them diabetes medication. Fuck! What have I become? I am so distraught, mostly because I'm looking forward to it and kind of like those cats. Let the cat lady remarks ensue, I GUESS.

And those are my thoughts thus far.

Earrings and Early Exits.

Only 22 minutes until I am freed from the confines of a cubicle...only to be re-ensnared by the intimidating taupe horror that is the doctor's office. I absolutely loathe the doctor's office. The thought of being poked and prodded in even the most obscure parts of the body is not appealing to me in any way. It's repugnant, actually. Plus, I can basically bet on getting poked and prodded in obscure areas considering I'm going in for...a physical examination. That means pee in a cup and blood in a vial. God damn it all. But, then I remind myself that at least I have health care and I should consider myself fortunate, blah. So there. I'm happy that I'm getting pricked, prodded, and generally violated. After all, there is substantial reason to the madness.

Anyway, there is still one thing that takes me away from the stresses of enduring a future physical, and that is a little cyber heaven known as Ebay. I just purchased extremely cheap four inch earrings that, I admit, are a little over the top, but visibly worth "digging".


http://cgi.ebay.com/NEW-EDIE-SEDGWICK-CHANDELIER-EARRING-FROM-LIFE-1965_W0QQitemZ130235916949QQihZ003QQcategoryZ60346QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

Click on the link and see the fab things for yourself. I just know all this access to computers and idle time at work is going to get the best of me. I'll be addicted to Ebay and I won't be able to stop. I must remember to take my ebay shopping in moderation lest I spend all of my hard earned money. Anyay, I have not that much else to talk about...Although I did watch Hairspray last night (not the actual broadway production, though I have seen it...I'm not a snob by the way) and I really really enjoyed myself. Like...more than I have recently. At first I was annoyed with Tracy, as I was in the play, but I think that's all part of the feel you're supposed to get, right? By the end of it I was cheering her on...and was surprisingly kinda sorta maybe attracted to Zac Effron...shit. The last unicorn has been trapped in the plot to make Zac Effron the ruler of everything. Whatever, I still maintain I was attracted to LINK and NOT the High School Freak Show alum.

I'll sort this all out after a xanax and a nap. And those are my thoughts thus far.

"Remember the times?" A Reminiscent Post.

So it's now Monday and I can officially feel as if I have a "bad case of the Mondays" without being completely ridiculous and irrevocably full of it. I'd still be kind of douchy if I reffered to my not wanting to go to work as a "case" of some fake corporately associated malady, but I digress.
I celebrated the fourth of July just as everyone does, with cheeseburgers, hot dogs, gatherings of people I don't know, and fireworks...never forget the fireworks. I actually went to the Capitol, though, instead of doing awesome kegstands with friends I won't remember, and got to see Jerry Lee Lewis, who prior to his performance, I didn't know was alive. Sorry. My mistake. Anyway, it was really nice and nostalgic of the good ol' 50s Americana, which I cannot relate to, but appreciate nontheless. Fireworks sprung around the awkwardly phallic Washington memorial as Jerry belted out Great Balls of Fire (WOW no pun intended....though it really should have been!). For an old man (it's ok to say old, right? I mean he's clearly senile. No need for the fake sympathy used when saying "older", right?) he really sang well. More than well. He sounded as young as ever. As young as when he married that poor fourteen year old and was never heard of again. Well, almost never...wink!
ANYWAY, my point is (you didn't think there was one, did you) after a traditional fourth celebration, a figurative revival of Jerry Lee Lewis, and one too many viewings of Labyrinth and The Little Mermaid (I don't know why I did it, I just did), I realized that discovering new and edgy means of media, whether it be movies, music, or books, is just not as good as reverting back to the tride and true bulge in David Bowie's leotard during "Dance, Magic, Dance". So all of this reminiscing and genuine enjoyment of the past took me down the path that lead to...The Fiona Apple. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Well, great. Another girl smitten by the angry musings of a seemingly disturbed and weirdly attractive, jaded twenty-something year old woman" but hear me out!! Do you remember "Criminal"? Well? If you don't remember, or if you don't know what I'm talking about, OR if you suddenly got really let down by my affiliation with the "angry girl music of the indie rock persuasion", I suggest you watch this and reconsider. The video is amazing. It may make you feel a little dirty...but that's all part of the charm. As it is with most things in life. And those are my thoughts thus far.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTpvjNn2BUM

You’d be glad to know that the clack, clack clacking of my heels gives me a severe superiority complex.

Work is pretty much the same as yesterday. Silent with the exception of the eternal sigh of the air conditioning and the occasional rhythmic thumping radiating from passing cars driven by hip hop enthusiasts (I am most definitely one of them, so lets get that straight and out there). So to pass the time I have taken it upon myself to read the short story entitled “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” by F. Scott Fitzgerald, much to the disappointment of my mother who forcibly shoved “Eat, Pray, Love” into my hands this morning before I dashed off to the metro. Now, I have nothing against empowering books fueled with a feministic will to strive and overcome the classic suburban epidemic of bad marriages, but I am in a happy relationship and choose not to resent my beau out of the blue just because of the literature I’ve chosen to read. Believe me, I started getting oddly snappy with him after watching too many Sex and the City episodes. Not that watching a lot of Sex and the City isn’t a great thing and all, but I digress. So instead of getting Miranda-esque and jaded, I decided to embrace my inner literature and “upcoming movie with Brad Pitt” buff, and read the short story. So far so good, though there are various introduced plot lines that go unaddressed, such as the mother of the unnaturally aged Benjamin Button, but it goes with the charm of originality and eagerness in old literature. Things didn’t have to be so over-analyzed and neurotic back then, I suppose. And those are my thoughts thus far. ***update*** My metro riding experience this afternoon contained much more than awkward nudging and jostling as the boxcar raced down the tracks. This man of about 50 sat next to me, despite there being many other empty seats. After first letting my paranoia and negative, often perverse suspicions about this man consume me, I realized he probably just wanted to be closer to the exit, like me. This calmed my frenzied mind and I happily listened to my Ipod. As we neared my station, the man began to speak to me. I can't recall the exact phrasing of his ice-breaker, only that he seemed so pleasant and so, well, nice-for lack of a more personality inspired adjective. In the midst of talking about our work week (look, I can relate to yuppies now! It's really exciting! And I mean that! I even carried a coffee mug with me today...oh the naivete of a newbie), he gave me some really helpful advice that prioritized my future goals for me. What a relief. He said: "There are only three things that matter in this world: Your mattress, the person you marry, and where you work. So you better enjoy your job." I smiled and we kept on talking about college, outrageous tuition prices and the likes, and I enjoyed his company so much so, that I missed my station. My phone had died and I had no way of telling my assuredly anxious boyfriend (wink) that I'd be a tad late. The man apologized for talking to much, to which I smiled and said It would be no problem for me to jump on the next train and go back a few stops. The train then stopped, and he left with a "bye, see ya". So kid-ish. It almost made me think I was going to hang out with him soon. I let out a final "Ok bye nice to meet you!" because as we all know, I must have the last word (I swear I've been like that since before shitty, pseudo hipsters came up with Meg Ryan's character in In The Land Of Women...And yeah, I just referenced it...meaning I watched it...but whatever). Anyway, it was really nice and really freaking pleasant. And those are my thoughts thus far.