Goodbye. See you elsewhere.

A cool meme stolen from callmesteam, who he stole from someone else. Thus, the vicious cycle continues :P

1. ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet, current car):
Chip Corolla

2. GANGSTA NAME: (fav ice cream flavor, favorite Kind of shoe)
Chocolate Aldo

4. SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born):
Esteban Sierra Vista

5. STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 of your first name
Palad

6. SUPERHERO NAME: (favorite color, favorite drink):
Green Orange Juice (wtf?)

7. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers/grandmothers):
Ernest Van

8. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)
Burberry Twix

10. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 4th grade teacher’s last name, a city that starts with the same letter):
Kite Kansas

11. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower):
Winter Rose (again, wtf?)

12. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now)
Apple Jeans

I just realized that some of my bigger 'secret' crushes are all... wait for it... French. That's right, French: Carla Bruni, Eva Green, and Marion Cotillard.

Shit.

EDIT
On the plus side, my chances with them may be better than originally thought: read this.

It Finally Hit Me

People, I need some answers! First, some context: you haven't had a real conversation with me in over two years, besides the "thank you" for a "get well" card I sent last year, then you write an apology because you feel you weren't sensitive to me in the past. Then... then you send me a copy of one of your favorite books?! Is this just an attempt at being nice since you felt you weren't in the past?

Friends, what is going on here? Please leave some comments to preempt the overanalyzing I feel coming on...

All My Guesses Were Wrong

I stayed home from work today, and among other things I went to Target. When I came back home, I checked my mail and found the package Natalie had sent (damn, that was quick...). It's a book. So I was wrong all around! It looks good, too. It included a short note that basically said it's one of her favorites, especially the last two pages. Let the reading begin...

Come Back To Me!

I'm a little irrational after the loss of my iPod. Seriously, I've been going through withdrawal, and I'm quite beside myself. I even bought some expensive computer speakers today to ease the pain.

Just Because It Was About Dexter...

...I thought I'd share; I found this on PostSecret today:



Honestly, who the hell doesn't?!

Probably the only funny thing Sarah Silverman has ever done (NSFW):

And for all those dumbasses on Don's LJ that said they'd pick Sarah Silverman over Tina Fey because Sarah could get... you know... I have a picture for you ( clickity-click here )

So, I am not going to write about this weekend. Because this weekend has been sleep, movies, more sleep. And a margarita or two thrown in for good measure. Thus, let's talk about last week... as quickly as one can.

Last Thursday or Friday I woke and thought: boring weekend ahead. Catch up on sleep and Oscar contenders, then Oscar party Sunday night. Simple enough. Boring, but whatev. At work, I get an email from a co-worker from my old job. He's cool. Older. Kinda quirky/goofy, but a sweet person. Kind of the born-and-raised nervous New Yorkers (he has an ulcer, for instance). He invites me to an off-Broadway play Saturday afternoon, since he has a free ticket. It's supposed to be an "indie-rock musical." I'm interested. But then I go to the art department, and one of our web designers, who's a really cool guy, and my age. So he says, "Yo, son, guess where I'm going tonight?" "Where?" "Standby line for SNL tickets. Tina Fey is hosting." "Oh, snap!" "You should go!" "What does this entail?" "Sleeping on the sidewalk overnight in line to get tickets at 7 AM tomorrow." "And then you get in the show that night?" "No, they're standby, so only if people don't come." "Um, how about no; I like my sleep." "No, it's Tina FEY! Just go with me!" "Lemme think about it." I don't have a sleeping bag. Wait! Audrey might. I IM her. She does, I can borrow it. Okay, I'm in.

Immediately after work (nearing 7ish) I meet with a friend from my church fellowship group to see "No Country For Old Men." Another person was supposed to come, but ended up thinking the wrong theater. So no dice for her. Which means we're also late sitting down. So, second row. That's right. The movie I've been terrified of seeing, second row. I can see straight up the nostrils of the first person Javier Bardem chokes to death. Wonderful!

So, the movie was good. Definitely well done, but I wouldn't watch it over and over again. I'm SOOO glad I knew the end; I can see why, going into it blind, I would have been pissed about the ending. But anywho, we leave the theater speechless. For whatever reason.

I hightail it to Audrey's to borrow the sleeping bag, and meet her mom (she was visiting from San Fran). Rush to Midtown to meet Patrick, my co-worker, who's already in line. I end up being like twenty-something in line, so he says I have good chances of making it in, especially since some people pick the standby tickets for dress rehearsal.

So let's cut this waiting-in-line-story short. It's cold. We talk. Also talk with people next to us. Order a pizza at 1 AM. Crawl into sleeping bag around 2. Feel bad for the guy next to me: brought no blankets, pillow, etc. Get some sleep around 4. Wake up to snow covering me. Freezing. McDonald's for potty break and OJ. Day breaks. Freezing, get these f-ing tickets in our hands! 7 comes. I'm number 15. Go home. Almost fall asleep on train. Sleep about four hours.

Now I really regret saying I'd go to the play, but I haven't seen this guy in a while, and we always keep talking about doing lunch since we work in the same neighborhood, but I always keep forgetting. Anywho, wake up and go to play. We had a good time. The play was... not that great. It wasn't horrible, it just wasn't exceptional. The visualization of space was incredible though. Used multiple screens as walls where they would project elevators, rooms, etc, and it made for a cool experience. Everything else was ho-hum.

Come home, listen to music, eat Burger King (gross, I know), and waste some time before I have to leave again.

So, I head back to Midtown. We wait quite a while in the standby line before anything starts happening. It's really cruel. They make you stand in numbered order. Then they take you over to another waiting area. Then they take a few groups through metal detectors. And at this point, you still don't know if you got in. But, the first twenty people (me included) make it to the elevator, which means we got in to the show. All this waiting and hoping! God, it was wonderful. Steve Martin showed up. Tina was hilarious. Some of the skits were good (well, not really, but I loved the "I Drink Your Milkshake" one). It was great to be in the same room as Tina Fey. No, I am not obsessed.

On a side note, I finally figured out why I don't like SNL anymore: when it was good, it's because they were doing comedy for the sake of being funny. Now, they just make fun of stuff. But, really... how hard is it to satirize "Rock Of Love"?! Um, not hard *at all*. That's why it sucks now.

Instead of waiting for all the stars to come downstairs afterwards, I went to do karaoke with my friends. I'm already exhausted by now, but don't want to the party to end ( :P ). So I hop in a cab and head downtown, where we stayed until 3ish. Another friend was kind enough to drive two of us Brooklyn people home, but not before popping my White Castle cherry. Yes, I still had never been to one of these places, but in spirit of Harold and Kumar, figured now would be the time. Thus we ate White Castle cheeseburgers at 4 in the eff-ing morning in a parking lot. Yikes.

I slept in until 12ish, which wasn *not* enough time. I got up and headed back into Manhattan to do brunch with a new friend (*not* like that, it's strictly platonic... which, honestly, is a relief. It's great to finally make friends, and when it happens to be of the opposite sex, not having that extra pressure of finding whether or not it'd "work out"... blech). So then we headed to the theater to watch "There Will Be Blood." What a weird fucking movie. I thought it would be a "revenge" flick, but really it's just about one person. Thing is, that character doesn't really develop, which made it boring at points. However, Daniel Day-Lewis kicked some ass and did a great job. Paul Dano, too. Overall, good flick. Just... different. Not what I expected.

From there we walked to Trader Joe's and parted ways; she got groceries and I got a bottle of wine and headed uptown for the Oscar party. Sarah now has her own boy-toy, which explains why I have not seen much of her lately (well, that and she's busy at work). I'm really happy for her, especially since we've spent a year together and witnessed first hand each other's dating woes, etc. It's just exciting to finally see her with someone. And I kind of like him, too. He's pretty cute, seems nice and strikes me as one of those lovable goofballs. Anywho, I hope it works out. Especially because I don't want to have to track him down and [...] if he breaks her heart.

The Oscar party was fun. Since I had seen almost everything but The Savages, Away From Her, and... damn, something else... I was excited for the Oscar contest (Sarah prints out the ballots and then grades them). I was in a tie for second place most of the night. I could have jumped ahead if I had chosen "Falling Slowly" for the song category, which was my gut feeling, but for some reason I put a damn "Enchanted" song down. Anywho, I ended up tying for first place, especially when I started getting *all* the major awards right: best actor, actress, score (okay, that's not a "major" one... so bite me), director, movie, etc. I was definitely proud of myself. My prize is a free movie with a coke and popcorn with Sarah and her roommate. Sweet. BTW! How excited was I that my new crush, Marion Cotillard, won for her role in "La Vie En Rose"?!?!!!

So, I came home exhausted and found that email from Natalie, and now you're basically caught up.

Oh, speaking of which. I finally emailed Natalie back after talking with some friends and family. The ones I talked with liked what I sent, which happened around... Wednesday? Friday night, before I left work, I got *another* email from her. Two sentences, the last one being: "Do you have a mailing address? I want to send you something." So I gave her my address ... sigh ... now I'll think about it until it eff-ing gets here. What could it be? Some guesses:
A) A painting or picture
B) A mix CD
C) A really nice hand-made "Thank You" card from Santa Fe (the really nice ones you can get in the plaza) with a simple "Regards, Natalie" signed at the bottom
D) Some really long hand-written letter she's been working on for a while

My guess? C). Although I'd kinda like B) just because that would be interesting (i.e., a lot more to "analyze" and drive me crazy). So, any which way you look at this, it's interesting. I talked with Mai about it, and my mom concurs, there really is no reason to start our friendship again, which is fine with me. It'd be too confusing. Also, with the whole "I'm lonely" thing, that little thought of "You know, I still haven't met anyone like..." keeps nagging. Worse yet, I've been listening to music most of today, and I listened to a few songs that brought those two months back. Tangibly. I could feel those summer months on my skin. Holding hands while walking around UNM. Laying in the grass at the duck pond. Oh well. Anywho, I really am fine, so no worries. If this had happened any time before, I'd be a wreck, but, seriously, I'm totally fine. It's more... amusing, if anything. We'll see where it goes.

Just got back from the Oscars party I went to. More on that will follow.

So not too long ago I wrote: "man, I haven't had any Adrian-style girl-related drama for a while now."

I just checked my email... my ex (Natalie) wrote me. Crazy. I thought about her a lot today, for various reasons. Crazy.

My iPod is completely broken. See here for more.

My iPod Is Broke

That's right; the lovely 30-gig video iPod all of you chipped in to get me before I left home is bust-ass broke: the right channel does not have any sound coming out of it. My options, according the the Apple Genius I talked to at the SoHo store tonight:

1) Trade my iPod in for the same model for $130.
2) Recycle it and receive 10% the purchase of a different model.
3) Take it to an authorized Apple reseller and have them fix it (with an assumed cost of $30-$40 dollars).

Obviously the latter choice is the preferred option, especially since so much sentimental value is attached to it. On the other hand, that 16-gig iPod Touch is pretty damn tempting.

Why I Love Wickedly Cold Weather

This week New York witnessed the return of normal February temperatures, which to me is wonderful since we've been experiencing what is on track to be a record-breaking mild winter.

On days off, I love putting my hand near the middle of a window pane, letting it linger next to the bitter cold trying to fight its way through. Then, I crawl back into bed and curl up into the cozy cocoon of blankets, wrapped up in the warmth of slumber, wrapped in the comfort of having to do nothing but rest.

On days that I must wander outside, I love the feeling of first stepping through the door: it's a slap in the face. The kind that forces you to remember you're alive. The sting of the wind grating across the exposed strips of skin forces you to remember: You are right here, right now. The burning in your chest as the arctic-like air makes its way down to the tips of your lungs snaps you back into the present. Last night, the afternoon to come, the day before, and the week ahead all disappear as the frosty needles poke and tear through your gloves, scarf and coat. It is an awakening, in the truest sense.

Feed The Hungry: Give Those Skinny Bitches A Sandwich

Basically, this is what goes down: in the morning the train takes forever to arrive. Then, when it does, it stays in the station even longer than forever. All the customers are getting pissed, and the conductor keeps reassuring us over the intercom, "Due to a sick passenger at Prospect Park (or 7th Avenue, etc.), trains are being held in station. Once the passenger receives care, we will be moving. Thank you for your patience." I'm always wondering: who the hell are these people? Why the eff are they always sick?

I found the answer tonight in an old news story: Fainting dieters delay New York City subways.

That's right. Anecdotal evidence suggests that all those disgustingly thin New York women who are dieting their lives away (literally) account for the majority of "sick customers." Wow.

So, learning that my ex was in the ER last week brought up some ugly issues that, thus far, I've done a great job at covering over. You know, the giant elephant in the room that I was able to shove into the damn closet after all the dinner guests have left.

My ex and I had our "official" break-up talk on September 11, 2005. Yeah, it was on that day. So fast forward to 2006, and me sitting in church during a sermon about forgiveness, the sermon which led me down this path of thought: "Who am I to say my ex is in need of my forgiveness?" Why would I think that? Because there is nothing that she did that requires forgiveness. What wrong did she do to me? In what way did she cause me immoral harm? We were never married. She never lied to me about staying together forever. She never made an agreement, a commitment, that she did not keep. Our parting was a simple instance of two people wanting two different things; where is the offense in that? Where is the crime in that?

Yes, she hurt me. Yes, there were times my father caught me on the floor of my bedroom crying inconsolably into a pillow (an attempt to avoid having them cry over the paralyzing pain in which I was in). But in all of this, where is the wrong that was done? There is none that I can point back to. No definitive, concrete instance towards which I can point my finger and say, "There! That is when the crime was perpetrated! That is the exact moment I need to forgive."

So now I feel it is even harder: instead of being able to forgive someone from the morally superior ledge of I-did-you-no-wrong, I have to have a knife fight with my pride in the fucking alley to make it shut up, to make it realize it has no higher ground on which to stand and say, "Look at what you did to me! What did I ever do to you?!" A goddamn knife fight, when I unarmed.

I don't know what to do.

I don't understand why people who should keep their feet private refuse to keep them private, especially in the months when it would best suit them. In other words, if you have ugly feet why do you feel obligated to wear flip-flops in the winter?! The WINTER!!!!

I finally figured out why I hate when people try to comfort you with the phrase, "Oh well; you win some, you lose some." It's because there are certain categories in which people have only ever chalked up losses.

It's almost the weekend. Thank you, God.

I want to make a "hot or not" poll about Mary Louise Parker, but I think the only two categories on the poll should be "hot" or "superhot"... what do you think?

I. Have. The. Internet.

The iPod Touch now comes in 32 gigs. Temptation, thy name is Apple.

What The Country Will Look Like If The Candidate You Endorse Wins

So, you've finally decided to put your support behind Obama? Or Clinton? Or...? If you'd like to know that the country will look like for those four years, use this tool: the donor search on OpenSecrets.org. The thinking behind this? Watch the YouTube video... you'll get what I mean: