pina coladas and getting caught in the rain

Just got back from dropping a reluctant-to-leave Stace at the airport. Is there better affirmation that you've shown someone a good time than their desire to stay forever?

It was a blast.

Thursday - Judy picked up Stace, since I had to work. They went to yoga and met up at my place and we set out for lunch at Ray's Boathouse. It was really nice to spend some time catching up. We planned on going to hear David Sedaris read at Elliot Bay Bookstore, but shortly after we got there, Judy realized she'd left her stove on and we raced home (a home happily not burnt to the ground) and chilled watching MTV Movie Awards. WTF was up with the stupid, grotesque animated scenes?

Friday - I worked an early shift and Stace slept in. We gave Stace a tour of the Pike Place Market and milled around looking at arts and crafts. We then stopped off for a view of the Van Gough exhibit at the Seattle Museum of Art. While finishing our coffee, we were invited to do some postcard-painting of our own. I was happy with mine because the art-lady called it Rothko-esque. Woop! The exhibit was excellent. They've really updated museum audio tours since the old days of headphones. They gave us these little gadget-y things and you simply entered the number of the piece you were viewing and held the device to your head like a cell phone. Some beautiful pieces were on display. Ended the evening with dinner at Palomino and Harry Potter. The movie was much better (as reported) than the first two, but still is something I would never watch a second time. It makes me a bit sad that the movies are so-so for me, since I worship the books.

Saturday - Judy's day to work, so Stace and I milled around and had the most amazing Cuban pulled pork sandwiches from a tiny, hidden place in Fremont called Paseo's, recommended to me by Jemma. We picked up the sandwiches and came back to my place. We'd rented A Little Princess, to further revel in Alfonso Cuarón's (director of the third Harry Potter film) work. It was an absolutely darling movie. We watched the movie, hung out, and then drove to the Triple Door to see Dudley Manlove. The lounge was gorgeous, the service impeccable and Dudley Manlove--they were fucking amazing. They put on an amazing show. They played a great variety of songs (including Rupert Holmes, Abba, The Zombies, etc) We were leaping out of our seats dancing, singing along--out of our heads with excitement. These guys work their asses off to show you a good time. I can't wait to see them again, and again, and again.

Sunday - brunch at B&O Espresso in Capitol Hill. Very charming place that jeff_nw introduced me to. We checked out the new Seattle Public Library (which is apparently a death trap) and then attempted to drive out to Aurora to see 13 Going on 30, but despite the fact that Yahoo Movies had listed the theatre and current times, the movie theatre was closed. Not sure wtf was up with that, but we shrugged and went back to my place to hang out, chat, watch tv and wait to have dinner with Jeff and Ellie at Cafe Bizarro in Wallingford (46th/Stone Way). Fucking amazing Italian food. I think I'm in love with our waiter Seth. Stace and I came home and just smoked and talked about our lives. We've known each other since the 4th grade, so it's interesting to take a retrospective tour as well as wonder what the future holds.

Monday - I had to work and Stace lounged about. We ordered some pizza (Soprano's, of course) and then it was time for her to go. We drove halfway to the airport and she said, "Um. Thanks for the tour, but let's go back home. I don't wanna go back to San Diego!" Hee. But off to the airport we went and she's promised to come back soon.

A good time was had by all.

Now I need to bust some moves on my damn portfolio and start scoping for work. Have planned another weekend trip to Vancouver and want to have some damn resumes sent out so I can enjoy my weekend guilt-free.

virgin state of mind

Ok. I hate myself for posting song lyrics. But wtf does this song mean? It's a very haunting tune. It's as confusing to me as Pavlov's Bell by Aimee Mann. My whole life I don't know what that song means.

( Virgin State Of Mind )

aaarrrrrrgh

I am a complete, dribbling arsehole.

Just realized, via emailed hurt hint, that I forgot Amy's fucking 30th fucking birthday.

*kills self*

It was June 1st. Could there be an easier fucking birthday to remember? I've only forgotten once before in the history of our friendship, and Amy is beyond tolerant of my early-onset-Alzheimer’s. I forget everyone's birthday. I really don't mean to. I really don't want to forget. I write these things down on calendars, and stick post-its in obvious places, but then I get used to the post-its and forget to turn my fucking calendar pages. And very often I forget what the fucking date is unless I have to make an appt or something.

Amy never forgets birthdays. She always remembers to mail cards on time. She finishes her Christmas shopping before a bite of Thanksgiving turkey passes her lips. She's very organized. She was very much Felix to my Oscar the five years we lived together. I make an effort to remember her birthday, I swear I do. Amy, Judy and my immediate family are the six people I bend over backwards not to forget, because they never ever forget to make a fuss over my annual decay. I constantly forget my aunts and my cousins and don't think I've ever remembered to call my sister-in-laws on the right date. Other friends--I aim for calling them during the right week.

While no excuse is good enough, things were particularly hellacious and frantic the few days before her birthday. I totally remembered her birthday up until May 27th. I was making a note to buy her a damn gift, and then everything was bad and I was struggling to finish my final fucking projects, apply for a job deadline, not piss off the passport office, find money for gas/food and trying very hard to not kill myself first thing in the morning after 3 hours of distressed sleep.

I called immediately, brimming with mea culpas. Amy knows I love her. She knows I'd give her an internal organ if she needed it. She knows that I feel worse about forgetting her birthday than she does. Having lived with me for five years she knows my intentions are good, but that I'm prone to absent-minded bugfuckery. She forgives me. In some small way I know she thinks it's funny (though probably not on June 1st when she's hurt that I haven't called by the end of the day).

But god. I feel absolutely rotten and about 2 feet tall. I wish I had money because I would ...buy her a pony or something. As it is, she did get an email 2 days after her birthday from me, an impersonal group email with my flight schedule. The one thing I frantically did try to accomplish in those hellish days was buying my ticket to SF to visit her over July 1st as I had promised.

Excuse me, I have to go kill myself now. *hangs head in shame*

omfg!!

YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!

YES!

Having dinner with jeff_nw tomorrow night! And possibly watching him get his haircut. *uncontrollable cooing*

I haven't seen him in like over a week! (11 days, but who's counting). I'm nearly DEAD from withdrawal symptoms!

I've missed him!!

"I shall call him squishy and he shall be mine and he shall be my squishy!"

(or in other words...)