Just got in from a birthday drink with Dave & Hannah. Good times. Dave informed me that we're getting his sweet, comfy couches for our apartment. I'm so pumped to not have Goodwill furniture in my first apartment. I think living with him and Rob is going to be awesome. We'll fight like crazy, probably, but I love both those guys like brothers.

Is it possible that I can actually get a full eight hours of sleep tonight? LUXURIOUS.

T and I are road-trippin' on Friday and I'm pumped. No solid plans. Just getting in the new car and driving. Those are always the best adventures.

He:
so why do you think you were anxious
Me:
still am, and no idea
I'm worried about something. Like feeling humiliated, but I have no reason to feel that way
or maybe my body is just turning against me because I haven't had a cigarette in so long.
He:
i think something is happening in the universe
like a shift of some kind
Me:
Okay, Tom Cruise
He
FUCK YOUR MOTHER
Me:
bahahahahahahah
hate me

still a bet in love's game

I've been so goddamn busy lately. And all of my extra writing energy goes into my journal. Partly because it's so pretty and was mocking me from the bookshelf in my bedroom, and partly because I can write in it while I watch A Shot At Love with Tila Tequila.

Yes, I know how fucking sad that is.

But a facebook message assures me that I'm not the only Canadian blogger who has an addiction to that particular brand of reality television.

Work has been good lately. I feel useful most of the time. And I seem to get along pretty well with almost everyone I work with. Some I'm not terribly fond of, but that has more to do with their work ethic and less to do with who they are as people. It's tough, you know? Working with 20 women. We're all so different. I'm pretty fake most of the time at work, because I don't think they'd be terribly receptive to the real me, you dig? Like, I don't think they want to wax intellectual about anything. But that's okay. I show up. I work. I go home. And every two weeks money magically appears in my account.

Other stuff in my life is going pretty well. SIGH. I won't get into it much. Suffice to say there's a boy I've been spending time with. And he's completely rad and a total babe. And who knows if things will go anywhere. And who knows how we really feel about one another. But he can totally curl up on a couch with the best of 'em.

The long weekend felt sort of strange because I wasn't camping. But I partied every night of it, which was good. I also worked every morning....which was bad. But it turns out that I can totally still be around clothes when I'm hungover and not have it be a problem. Except some stripes. Some stripes deepen my hangover nausea.

Oh, I'm making a belated birthday dinner for the aforementioned babe this week, so if you have any great recipes for a dessert let me know. He's way into Italian, so I'm going with that for a theme. What the the hell do Italians eat for dessert? I'm too lazy to use google-magic to figure it out.

Oh and P.S. how much do I miss Pat? Probably a ton.

do whatever the t.v. tells us

So the weekend was a lot of fun. We celebrated Pete's birthday with a surprise party. Planned and perfectly executed by his girlfriend, and my best friend, Nicole.

The resort itself I was familiar with, as I used to work there. But it's more fun to stay there as a guest. Except that we're assholes and had noise complaints. Egh.

pool cues in their hands

tiff, alicia and i letting miles play cameraman for a while.















bathroom of a thousand christinas
















whose muscles are the biggest?
















drake and i are babe-city

would you go home with somene like me

Okay so, I'm still in my pajamas. Yeah, I know. I'm lazy as fuck on my days off.

I have to go and shower and get ready for a paaaaaaartay at Carriage Hills tonight. Because Drake is a genius and decided to rent a couple suites for us. Uh, more like SWEETS. Ha, lame. Anyhow, so we're celebrating Pete's 25th birthday because he's a straight up GEEZER.

So I'll be back tomorrow with pictures and videos and entertainment of epic proportions for ya'lls

i just remembered....

....that my sister wished me a happy cinco de mayo.

thanks Val, for always being random beyond all reason.

do some heroin and fuck with the stars

This is where I sit and listen to MGMT and try to forget about the horrible day I had. I ate three clementines just now, and that sort of helped.



Dinner with T helped, too. A food-baby was making it next to impossible for him to stand afterwards. He had a problem with the spoon they brought him with his soup. He laughed at me for not eating an appetizer. I had a Tuscan Chicken Salad, which was a little disappointing, except for the really fresh mango in it.



We're going on a little road-trip this week. I'm stoked. I wonder if I'll be allowed to play with the stereo. He doesn't strike me as the type who'd be ultra-sensitive about the music I play. D always made me listen to his iPod, which wasn't fair. And then I'd have to sift through the minutiae for twenty minutes to find a decent song.





Also, I heard T speak Polish tonight, which was like.....shockingly hot. Spanish and French be damned. Polish is the new language of nookie.

p.s. i miss Pickles.

I am not used to going on dates. Not real dates. Where I am to look pretty and be treated like a lady. Dates usually come before the relationship, but it has almost always been opposite with me. I fall into relationships and the dates follow after. As if I could just never do things in any linear, coherent way. Also, it is customary for my relationships to be without real romance or seduction. I am the best friend you could ever have. But I fall to pieces when it comes to knowing how to be a "girlfriend" in any traditional sense.

This could be because: A) I am generally petrified of commitment, B) I date guys, and not their brawny counterparts: men, C) I sometimes feel uncomfortable (read: bitchy) when placed into female roles. I do not want to nag after a man to pick up after himself. I do not want to cook and clean and be bereft of the ability to handle money. Obviously, these are not current female roles, but I sometimes still feel as though they're prevalent.

So dating for me has always been like an outing with friends. You grab some dinner, you catch a movie. Lots of verbs. Very casual.

But a date is something else entirely.

And it's taking a little getting used to.

you go back to her

You lose track of time and start to really appreciate the feeling of the carpet under your feet and the scent that hides out in the nape of his neck. You listen to Amy Winehouse on repeat and you have visions of the extra-marital affairs you'll probably have with one another once you become those boring married people. You sit in his lap with your legs wrapped around his back and slowly grind yourself into him. Don't let him kiss you. Not yet.

You're always so open, but this game of withholding excites you more than you realized. You're wet, but you want it to be a secret.

Curled up in bed, your legs like cats-cradle, you nuzzle into him. Trace the outline of his bottom lip with your tongue.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

You feel him shiver as he tells you how much.

tracky bottoms tucked in socks

Rob told me that I stay so still when I sleep that it looks like I'm dead. I don't know why I find that so funny, but I do.

I bought the healthiest groceries today, and then came home and ate Japanese take-away.

I had a bath and washed my hair. I bought conditioner called "Long Term Relationship" because the bottle was cute. I don't know how a conditioner can be specially formulated to make long hair better, but it was cute...and as it turns out....that's all I care about in this world.




The other day at work I was asked to make one of our displays more "aesthetically pleasing" which was sort of fun. Except that all of the shirts in the display were sort of ugly. But I did the best I could, and I think it turned out pretty well. I also enjoy being a personal shopper for people, except that I wear really outlandish shit sometimes, and I forget that not everyone has my ability to turn a potato sack into art.

i like making my own tea

He's still in bed, and I can't sleep anymore. So here I am, writing to you guys.

Had my first dose of beach volleyball of the season. It went better than expected, even though my forearms are covered in broken capillaries. I pretty much have the dai
ntiest hands, wrists and forearms. Like...deceptively small. So I'm going to have a few painful days of volleyball before I build up some tolerance.

We made homemade bruschetta last night. OMFG. You just have no idea. And all I can think about right now is the rest of the feta in the fridge and how later on I'm going to eat the world's best Greek salad.




Work is going pretty well. I like most of the women I work with. I'm exhausted at the end of every shift, which is probably a good thing. I like being around fashion all day. There aren't really a lot of negatives to talk about. Thankfully. Although it would be nice to have a guy around every once in a while. Sometimes all the estrogen being produced in that place is deafening.

I hope Darren finishes my painting today. He'd better do it before he leaves in a couple weeks. Or I'll punch his face into a jelly.

So okay....sometimes you drink too much wine. And if you're Portuguese that means like....a lot of wine. But who cares because you have to work at 5:30 PM. YES PM. AS IN....THE EVENING. Which means I can have a wicked hangover until roughly...oh...3pm. And then I have to get out of bed and be a responsible adult. And then one of your friends calls you from Boston and tries to convince you to make up a death in the family so you can go and party for a while.

And maybe you have a huge decision about whether yuo want to go or stay. And everything in the whole world is telling you to GO because it's way more fun, but you'll probably still stay because you're trying to not be a fucking harpy anymore. But let's face facts....it's way more fun to be a harpy.

And she tells you that you're stupid for believing in a guy that has connections at your favorite magazine. And yes, maybe you're dumb for believing in that. But who knows, right?

And then some guy gives you edible body moisturizer. And you're like AWESOME. because i like to smell like butterscotch. But maybe you're going to make some bad decisions involving this guy. WHO KNOWS.

That's half the fun of being twenty-three, right?

THIS POST WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY A LOT OF RED WINE AND NOW DRINKING CHARDONNAY.

so disarming darling

i do believe

I'm sitting here in my new bikini and trying to figure out if I want to go hot-tubbing again tonight. Hmm....do I? Don't I? I have some more time to think about it.

I'm currently addicted to the song Alive With The Glory Of Love by Say Anything.

Oh mama. So good.

I wish I was going to Cuba tomorrow instead of like 2.5 months from now. I need time to lay on the beach and sweat my ass off, and relax and drink Bahama Mama's.

why should i be so blessed

I have about five minutes before I have to get ready for work. But in the world according to Tony Pierce that's long enough to write a blog post. So here I am. Trembling fingers and baited breath...just waiting to see what I might come up with.

And chances are.....it won't be good.

Not because I'm not capable of writing (i totally am) or because I don't have an interesting life (i totally do) it's because all the best stuff in my life I have to be a little private about. I didn't always feel that way. I used to tell you cats everything, and you all took it in stride and loved me just the same. And there was a beautiful reciprocity in all that, because I never judged any of you either. I read those bits and pieces about your soul, or your wife, or your job, or the big mistake you made at the bar that one time...and I'd think, "how true.." and leave it at that.

But now there are too many people reading. Too many people I'm capable of hurting with the things I say. So I tend to hold back and not tell you guys everything under the crazy sun.

Just know that if we were sitting across from each other in some great little dive bar, where there's still an actual jukebox, and Patsy Cline was leaking out of the speakers in almost a whisper I'd tell you guys everything. All the sordid tales. All the triumphs. All the defeats.

you give your heart to me

So, okay....I have a new job. A new job that I start tomorrow. And afterwards I'm going to see Steve and Chris perform @ TLC.


Last night was fun. Thai food. Trampolining. And not throwing up Thai food while trampolining, which was, you know....sort of excellent.



What the hell am I going to wear tomorrow? Oh yeah, that's right, I have to look professional at work. Which means I have to go shopping for pants that aren't denim. Le sigh. I have loads of skirts and things...but it's still too cold for that. And a girl can't wear a skirt every day. It dramatically heightens the probability of someone seeing my vagina. And I can't just be giving that stuff away, you know.

carrying this torch for you

So, I have a job interview tomorrow. I couldn't sleep last night because I was mentally running through my entire wardrobe. I bought a new shirt at H&M today to wear to the interview and then brought it home and discovered that I hate it. Shrug.

I also bought under-eye brightener so I won't look like a zombie anymore. But lets face facts kids, I probably still will.

I think I might be nervous about tomorrow, so I bought Dill Pickle chips to ease the pain.

Dear: Christina....get ready to endure 2 hours on the elliptical machine because you have no Mac's impulse control.

But here's some good news. My breasts shrank. YIPEE SKIPPY. I can now wear a 36D which is still huge but way less huge than my breasts used to be. RETRO DANCE PARTY.

you look wonderful tonight

Ash is moving in a couple weeks and I'm so sad.


I'm focusing on happier times. Like sketchbag karaoke, and how she always falls in love with these old men singing throaty renditions of Eric Clapton songs. And how we end up being the most loved women in any bar because we are fabulously funny and attractive.


She finally posted these pictures from one such night of karaoke. I was so fucking sick, but still allowed her to take my picture. It was the same night Nick was telling me to put Vicks Vaporub on my feet to feel better. I didn't listen to him and that was WEEKS ago and guess who is STILL SICK? Maybe I should have listened to that silly little vegetarian. They must know all sorts of witchcraft.

We went to the Flea Market today and how depressing. Full of the grossest people buying the grossest things. I totally self-medicated with fries and gravy. For the record? Best hangover food in the world.



Got too drunk with my sisters last night, and had a full-on dance party to some great old hip-hop. Remember Montel Jordan? Well I do. And he's awesome.

I came home today and my Dad was here. I tried on my new dress for him and he was all, "Oh, it's so pretty! The Cuban men are going to be all *Portuguese word I didn't understand*" and when I asked my Mum later she was like, "Oh, he thinks all the Cubans will be checking out your breasts," and I was like SURPRISE OF THE CENTURY.

racing like a pro

I have felt so out of it lately. So displaced. Frozen up. I can't really pinpoint what might be causing this sensation. Seasonal depression seems like a cop-out. I think it could be a contributing factor in a bigger problem. I think my life is stagnant, but I feel that a huge transition is about to be made. Everything will be thrown into a frenzy in a short period of time. It could all change.



The last time I saw him we were hugging good-bye on some empty downtown street. There was still snow everywhere and his nose was so red from the cold. He requested the hug, but I was more than happy to comply.


But I have the same feeling I've had so many times before. As if I'm two steps ahead of him. As if i could orchestrate everything and call all the shots. I do not want to call the shots. I would like, for once in my life, to not be the decision-maker. The navigator. The grown up. The nurturer. I would like to be irresponsible and unprepared. Maybe I'm searching within the wrong demographic?

All I know is that when he hugs me or holds my hand....everything feels new. I feel new.

I won't worry about it. Not yet, anyhow. I'll just paint my stupid nails and look at these pictures (all courtesy of Patrick) and remember how summer feels. And focus on all the good things in my life, and how much fun I always have in my stupid, mixed-up life. And how confusion is a crucial aspect of growth.

you don't believe in monogamy

Love affair with music right now. Especially The Teenagers and Spoon.

I'm going to a job fair on Wednesday so I can get a new job and be grown-up and a little responsible and have actual money in the bank. No one understands my finances or how I afford anything, and frankly I don't really get it either. And it gets harder and harder to live the whimsical life I lead when I'm all....wow, i can't afford air*

*i realize that air is free.

Went out for girls night on Saturday. Ended up at Darren's just in time to watch Bromwell High and to watch him eat the grossest sandwiches. Fell asleep to Independence Day. He tossed and turned all night until eventually I decided to just spoon him so tight he couldn't fucking move. In the morning we sang some Say Anything in the shower. We're rock gods.

Ian's in NYC for a week and I will miss him. Oh Buster.

full-time friend

I had such a nice relaxing night with D. We didn't do much of anything, besides watch music videos we love. I taught him some pretty basic music theory, which made me blatantly aware of how long it's been since I've put my knowledge into practice. So sad that five years of school should be so wasted. Maybe I should pick up piano, or become a crazy composer.

I felt sort of sick all evening. I have a cold, but I also felt like I had a bladder infection on the way. If you've never had one you can't understand how torturous they are. Good thing Dr. Darren was here to force cranberry juice on me. Mind you, he had selfish reasons for his interest in my nether region. But you can hardly blame the guy.

Me: "God, I look like a bum"
He: "No, you just look like a skater girl."
Me: "A skater girl?"
He: "Yeah, you know *sings* You are a skater girl. You said see you later girl.."
Me: laughs

I feel bad that I keep him up all night and then boot him out in the morning. He never sleeps well while he's here. My bed hurts his back. Frankly, it hurts mine too, but I'm used to it. I usually make him crack my back for me, but he was useless for that last night. So I cracked it myself. Five or six consecutive cracks in my lower back.

"Uh, are you doing a lot of meth lately, or what?"

Does meth make your back crack? I don't understand like...half of his jokes.

god only knows

I took a nap from 2pm to 6:30pm and I have to say....it took every ounce of effort in my body to get out of bed.Not that I was completely exhausted still, but just because my bed was so goddamn comfortable.

The deciding factor? My iPod ran out of batteries. SIGH I GUESS I WILL GET OUT OF MY MAN-MADE WOMB.






I wish my little edifier charged my iPod while it was attached. That would make a lot more sense than for me to walk...oh....40 feet to my computer and hook it up to the USB charger.

D's coming over tonight, and I'm probably going to make him sick. And then we can stay in bed all day tomorrow and whine and eat oranges and leave balled-up tissues all over the crazy place. And we can boss people around to take care of us.









Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a maid.

And sometimes I think I'd like to marry Clark Gable.

mmmmmmmmmm.

We're together in this hot weather to dance....

Somedays this is all I want to do. Spin around in some room. Pretend I'm somewhere else. Fight the inertia that sometimes seems to plague my life.

I am restless. And I feel homesick. But I'm still at home. Does that make any kind of sense? Maybe I feel like I'm being held captive by this weather. If I listed my favorite activities it would prove impossible to accomplish any of these things in the winter months.

So I try and amuse myself in other ways. One of which, clearly, being to spin around in an empty community center while my sisters laugh at me and take pictures.

I have visions of doing the same thing in a few months. Except I won't be donning my gay apparel (ie. an overcoat) I'll be wearing a dress. And I will be in a field with wildflowers all around me. And my skin will smell like sunshine.

It can't come soon enough.

call you on the phone

Oh man, guess who's sick again? THIS GIRL.

I'm all stuffed up, but still somehow leaking out of my face. Pretty attractive, right?

That's Dakota. We had a sleepover on Friday. I sure hope she didn't catch my cold. Although, seeing her sneeze would be so goddamn cute I sort of hope she is.




It's been a kind of dramatic few days. I won't get into it, but I think it's safe to say that I'm ready to go into hiding for a bit. I'll still see Darren, of course, because he's only a quarter-way done the painting on my wall. I would take pictures of it, but it looks lousy still, and I don't want to sully his good name. Assuming his name is still good at all.

Oh yeah, also, that's a picture of Jackie kicking over my head. For no reason in particular. Also, Jackie? I can totally kick higher than you. Wuss. LOVE YOU! SEE YOU IN THE CAR TOMORROW!








I watched "Keeping Up With the Kardashians...Kaza...Kar-mash-eons...?" Whatever they're called. So I watched a bunch of episodes today because I'm sick and had to cancel my dinner plans with D's parents. Anyhow, I like that family except for the two youngest girls who are annoying beyond all reason and make me too fucking pleased to be the youngest in the family. I think every family looks crazy. We're a bunch of nutcases. I bet Sabrina's family would make for good television. Especially since there are like 75 people in her immediate family or something.

who's sorry now?

I'm using this wireless keyboard and it feels like a keyboard from the late 1980's back when my computer ran DOS. Do you guys even remember what dos is? Are you too young? Were you not addicted to computers back then? Well guess what, I WAS.

I'm listening to Connie Francis, which is making my hangover feel like a fucking genocide of happiness. Haha. That's a horrible joke.

We started drinking at like 6pm yesterday. I like Irish Car Bombs, apart from the fact that I'm wickedly lactose intolerant. Got into a nice little tiff with Darren at the end of the night. It was all okay once I paraded around in my St. Patty's Day t-shirt and undies. Then he was like, "Oh right, you're hot. That's why I let you get away with a bunch of garbage" I basically ran my mouth off and he was pissed about it. But I'm all OH LETS SEE IT'S ST PADDYS DAY. BE GRATEFUL I DIDN'T KNIFE YOU.

We stayed in bed most of the day and I was telling him about YouTube videos that I liked and I was telling him about how hot Dave's Dad looks without his beard and he teased me for liking Dad's. And then he spoke a bunch of Spanish to me and I was like REMEMBER WHEN OWEN HART DIED? Because being hungover makes me remember the most random things on earth. He tried to convince me to stay there and have a Heroes marathon, but I just couldn't do it. I'm so happy to be home where I can like...fall apart a little.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

So I met this guy Rob when I was like....15 years old or something. And we pretty much fell in love one night on swings at the drive-in. And we talked circles around each other. And I felt like, "whoa...this guy knows my whole stupid heart" and not a lot has changed since then. It's been almost 10 years and I love Rob like he came out of my Mum's vagina or something.

And today is his birthday. And he's now 24 years old. And he's a babe and can play Street Spirit by Radiohead better than anyone. And he gives the best hugs. And he shuts up and listens better than most people that pretend to be your friend.

So I wanted to wish him a very public HAPPY BIRTHDAY and say that I'm so goddamn excited to see him and celebrate with him tomorrow.

Love love love,
CHristina

p.s. I'll stop holding your Guitar Hero hostage now, I guess.

i wanna hurry home to you

I'm obsessed with Slow Show right now. This song in particular, and not the entire repertoire of the band. Although I do like The National quite a lot. There's something about the percussion in the chorus that just gets me. And the line, "You know I dreamed about you for 29 years before I saw you. You know I dreamed about you. I missed you for 29 years,"

I'm wearing red lipstick and no bra. I feel like this is an odd combination. An outsider of my life would think I'm a lunatic if they paid any attention to my fashion choices while indoors. A mix of decadence and homelessness, I think. I like to balance things out somehow. Some people doodle when they're bored or surf porn online. I like to do my makeup in strange ways. I'm currently sporting very smoky eyes. They look terrible. I will remember never to repeat this look.

I took a long bath today and placed the laptop on the toilet next to the tub. I asked you to tell me something that reminded you of me. You said Everlong by The Foo Fighters. A woman on all fours. You said other things, too. I told you that the word "clandestine" will always remind me of you. Not because of the meaning of the word itself, but rather the fact that you were the first person to use that word in casual conversation with me. You said that you hoped the laptop wasn't plugged in. I said that it was. I like to mix nudity and danger. Maybe that's why I went off birth control mere months after becoming sexually active.

I have Jack Johnson tickets for August 3rd. I couldn't be more excited. Apart from the fact that the concert will probably be swarmed by hippies. I intend to discuss my love of pollution. The virtues of eating baby cows. And how stupid drum circles are. I told Amanda that I will probably be stabbed by some dread-locked weirdo. Thus proving how un-peaceful some hippies are.

Time for bed, methinks. I pray to the Sandman that I can sleep in good and proper tomorrow.

the oppiste of hallelujah

I had strange, highly sexual dreams all night. The sort that wake you with a start, make you feel queasy. Vignettes of encounters with strangers. Wrapped up in sweat, the sickly smell of sex hanging heavy in the air. Not the sexual intimacy I prefer, as a general rule.

I have the stomach flu, which I feel might have something to do with the dreams. When I was younger I would hallucinate every time I had a fever. I would see nurses from the 1940's passing in and out of my room. Waking up to someone sitting at the end of my bed. These visions never frightened me. I used to read medical textbooks obsessively in my younger days, and felt there was a scientific reasoning behind everything I saw.

I don't think I have a fever today. Clogged sinuses. Perpetual sneezing. And a twisting in my stomach that keeps me from being able to hold food in my body for long. But no fever. No hallucinations.

Fly away to what you want to make....

I've decided that I need to write, produce and act in a television series with my friends. I don't ever want a big girl job. I just want to sit around and think of clever things to say.

This revelation brought to you by It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia.

If you've never watched it, you really should. It will also make you want to be a pub owner in Pennsylvania.

Just a thought.

Okay, time to get ready!

i don't see...

So I had to finally make the decision to take down my archives. I have some girl stalking me because she's in love with Darren. And frankly, I'm a little weirded out by her and how lame she is. So I thought I'd just keep things a little more private around here.

She's one of those girls that falls in love with the dude you're dating and wants to become your best friend to somehow share in the life you have. And pretend like they're a part of something. When they're clearly NOT a part of anything because their life is pathetic and small.

I could go on for centuries about the girls that fall for Darren and how that adversely affects my entire universe. But I won't. Just know this, if you're even remotely crazy and unstable you will fall for him and then stalk him and then stalk me and then become obsessed with all things Christina. I put five bucks on it.

Either way, crazy sluts like this don't really get to me. They just creep me out and I feel sorry for them because the whole situation is so fucked up and pathetic. And D and I just sit around and make fun of them. Siiiigh.

Speaking of which, we're going shopping today. I need to buy shoes to go with my new dress. And then we're going to hang out with Jackie and Darryl and be amazing. And tomorrow we're celebrating my first day of work with a sleepover.

Also, I quit drinking. Not long-term. But I was drinking far too often, so I decided to cut back except for on special occasions.






I already feel better. Sabrina, it turns out you're kind of a genius.

The Eight Things Questionnaire - stolen from Lojo

* I have the feeling that my responses will be similar to yours, Lojo. But here we go anyhow.

Eight things I am passionate about:

- Music
- Literature
- Art
- Travel
- Learning
- My relationships
- Creation
- Challenges

Eight things I want to do before I die:

- Have a family.
- Finish a novel that I can be at peace with.
- Learn to ride a bike (yes, it's important to me)
- Learn to accept that life should be lived and not examined too harshly.
- Fall in love with someone who is good for me, and who I want to be with.
- Completely lose my sense of fear about being myself.
- Touch people's lives in a positive way
- Sing in a band

Eight things I say often:

- "totes" - entirely Sarah's fault. I feel as though I have no choice in the matter
- "Yeah, I don't know.." - according to Dave this means I have something pressing to say.
- "Let's call a spade a spade" - this is mostly a joke, but I do catch myself saying it a few times a day.
- "Pisker" - pronounced "peace-kerr" which is what I call D when he's being bad, and what I call Maki when she's being cute.
- "You're just a cuddle monkey!"
- "Oh god.....fuck you, fuck your whole life"

Eight books I’ve read/reading recently:
*I'm totally blanking on author names today
- Diary by Chuck Palahniuk
- Becoming Like God by ?
- Rolling Stone Interview book
- The 158 Pound Marriage - John Irving
- Ishmael by ?
- The Alchemist
- The Girl With the Pearl Earring (re-read)
- Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

Eight songs I could listen to over and over:

- Slow Show - The National
- Galapagos - Smashing Pumpkins
- Heart Of Gold - Neil Young
- Sweet Dreams Sweet Cheeks - Los Campesinos
- Cemetery - Silverchair
- A Case Of You - Joni Mitchell
- Most Of The Time - Bob Dylan
- I Ain't Mad At Ya - Tupac

Eight things that attract me to my best friends:

- Honesty
- Consistency
- Creativity
- Humour about themselves and others
- Strength
- Sass
- A sense of independence
- loyalty

Eight names that I have been called:

- Christina
- Christine (my Dad is the only one who can get away with it)
- Chris
- Chrissy (Tash and J.B only)
- Cutes
- Babe
- Chickpea
- Pooh (my parents only)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY OLD MAN

So, I met this guy one time. It was almost Christmas time, I think. All I remember is that I get this phone call from Vegas. And I can hear slot machines paying out in the background and he's all, "hey" and I'm all, "what's up?" and he's all, "VEGAS BABY!" except I'm not sure he ever said that to me.

And then we talked a lot. And then we became bff's. And we founded a religion. And we totally had marathon phone conversations. And then we went to dive bars. And then we swung on the swing in my backyard. And then we're like....stuck with one another for life.

So, here's to celebrate the 24th year of Mr. Patrick Zaph.

I'm sending you hugs and kisses from afar.

Have an awesome birthday, Pickles.

i need to party with Karen O

i will be the one who loves you the most...

blergh.

i'm so lazy. and actually super tired. but i wanted to stop here in here quickly to say a little what's up.

it took me forever tonight to catch up with all of my emails that i've been ignoring. so i figure the next couple days i'll blog like mad to make up for all of the laziness around these parts.

new things of interest:

-i tried on the hottest dress today. pat thinks it's vaseline worthy. but he also thinks that when i strut around in a towel, so he's pretty unreliable.
-i drank in a bathroom stall with this girl on Friday and felt like i was 16 years old. good times.
-i think the mouse situation is under control but i still want to sterilize everything i own.
-D and i are lords of Guitar Queer-o.
-i found my slouchy hippie hat in the car the other day, and everyone has fallen in love with it all over again.

alright, bed time.

kitchen convos

jackie: wanna watch a movie?

no, i don't have the patience for that.

jackie: wanna play mario galaxy?

not really

jackie: i can play and your job can be to collect stars and shoot things.

well....i do like shooting things.

baby you're not lost

I've been hiding out for a couple days after seeing a mouse in my apartment. Turns out mice make me cry like a little girl. Who knew? Not this guy.

I'm currently at Jackie's place. The power went out at Zehrs while we were shopping, and I briefly considered looting everything I could see. But I decided against it because I think Jackie's friend would've made a lousy get-away driver.

And it's way less badass to loot a grocery store.

I have plans with D tonight. Probably play some guitar. Work on some silk-screening. I don't know what else.

I have nothing to say, really. I worked on some actual writing the other night, which kind of makes this blog shit pale in comparison.

That doesn't mean I'd ever stop blogging, of course. It's just hard to write in here about what's going on in my life when I've got other writing swimming around in my head.

the taste of the meal

Mates Of State are making me feel good about my life right now.

Went out for Alicia's birthday last night, which was super fun. I made some joke about her alarmingly hair-free legs and how she probably has alopecia and wears a wig, and her sisters busted up laughing and were like, "THAT WAS HER NICKNAME AS A KID"

Christina Peacock: reminding your loved-ones of embarrassing child-hood nicknames since 1984

We went to Simcoe and did karaoke. Favorite songs of the night:
- Matt and Pete performing Don't Stop Believing
- Nicole and Charles performing Sweet Caroline
- Pete performing Friends In Low Places
- Alicia and....Francisco (or something) performing Sweet Child Of Mine

Okay, I have to go and shower so I can go to Val's and do some wedding stuff, and then play a gross amount of Rock Band. WOOT!