Life in limbo

I’m pissed.  I usually reserve my Monday nights before I pass out to illegally stream the previous Entourage episode.  You can imagine how angry I am when I’m met with the news that no new Entourage episode aired on Sunday.  What a bummer.  Now I can’t sleep.  This past labor day weekend allowed me to catch up on a lot of sleep.  I didn’t get hammered this weekend.  It’s a weird feeling when a day that’s meant to be a buffer day turns out to be normal.  I just end up going to ClubSport and kill time with a few laps in the pool and laying out in the sun sometimes feeling slightly uncomfortable because I really shouldn’t be feeling like I’m on vacation 24/7.

I haven’t posted at all since I moved back.  I needed a break from everything and it’s been 4 solid months before I finally got the itch.  I’m working on my “public” blog right now but honestly, blogging is hard to do when you’re not being honest.  A blogger tends to have no shame and enjoy showboating their knowledge to the public.  I’m the total opposite.  I just like to blog when real things happen to me which unfortunately always include something very un-PC and laced with person and bizarre stories.  This is why I like this blog.  I know my identity isn’t hidden well but it feels less official to me.  That way, I can treat it like a real journal without all the censoring crap added with a sense of insecurity.  We’ll see how that public blog goes, but to be honest, I’m not going to beat around the bush and try to make something that isn’t going to work in the long run.

These past few months have been a mix of self reflection, slight detox (although I feel like I’ve been drinking more here than in Chicago), and an overall personal vacation.  Being back in the bay, in terms of my mood, has truly changed my life.  The weather is a prime example of how much one’s mood can easily be effected by something so natural and normal.  It’s also nice to be away from a set culture that I was clearly losing interest in after 6 years.  However, as you can see from me updating this blog, my personal life hasn’t changed much.  I’m still single, still experiencing interesting things, and still in limbo with life.

In terms of friendships, I’ve definitely filtered out some people that I’ve been yearning to take a breather from.  As much as I love my Chicago friends, I needed a break.  Their risk adverse personalities began to drive me insane and I needed something new.  I started to feel claustrophobic.  Since coming back, me and thebusdriver as well as darla have been going out almost every weekend for literally 2 months straight.  It was intense and way more entertainment than I had expected.   I was getting wasted almost every weekend and also driving home from SF to fremont every night.  Bad idea.  I even almost got a DUI one night because I was swerving on the highway while I was texting at 3am.  What a fucking ritard I was.  Luckily I passed all 3 tests given to me.  I could easily say it was one of the most frightening moments of my life where I realized at any second, everything could change.  Thankfully I learned my lesson and avoid doing stupid things like that moving forward.  Either way, going out has been a blast.  In many ways, I’ve learned more about the dynamics of being in a real friendship where there are no holds barred.  Literally.  Our personalities mixed together results to a completely nuclear outcome that create incredible yet sometimes tragic stories.  Either way, memories are made and laughter is created at a nearly consistent level.  Oh well, I’m 24, right?  How long can I get away with this before I have to grow up?

In terms of girls, shit hasn’t changed yet.  I’m still as awkward, insecure, completely clueless, and picky as always.  SF is a different animal.  People seem to be more cliqy and the girls are definetely more attractive then I’m used to.  Thus, you get stuck in a position where you feel like either you’re not good enough, or you’re better than everyone else.  Either way, it’s an unhealthy and ridiculous position to be in.  Unfortunately, my experiences have been sub par to say the least.  From the experiences I remember, I’ve been getting owned to the max by choosing girls that all happen to have boyfriends.  People are fucking all about settling down here and it totally blows.  Everytime I’ve spotted someone interesting or attractive, they end up having a boyfriend.  Even at work, it’s something I still need to get used to.  Coming from the agency life, where the entry level workforce was equivalent to a study abroad group or co-ed fraternity, made it hard to adjust to working for a publisher, where the age groups of co-workers are less segmented.  No longer were there groups of out of college, naive, and wide eyed girls willing to hit up happy hours to build friendships because they were “new to the city.”  Instead, newlyweds, long term relationships, and mounds of extra curricular activities took over the lives of my peers.

Shit’s different now.  I found myself reconnecting with the past more than discovering the future.  I guess that’s what moving back does to people.  But it’s nice.  Parts of it works for me; as I’m more mellow now and tend to prefer being outdoors over huddling near my computer.  The thing is, I still don’t have an eager drive to want to find someone.  It also comes both ways, Ias I have yet to experience someone coming toward me instead of the other way around.  The pain comes from knowing exactly what I want and knowing it’s not easily accessible.  On top of that, fearful of settling for less….even if it will take me several years to find it.  I’ve been through enough experiences to be able to draw a clearcut picture of what I want.  Even when my mom tries to throw in a few candidates I still raise my voice at her and say, “you know what kind I go for, I’ve been so clear, how can you be so off?”

Love is rough though; but I’ve grown to become envious of it.  Coming back from a wedding a few weeks ago in Chicago, I rediscovered my pursuit for real love.  This was witnessed in the raw energy from both the bride and groom.  The wedding was real; unlike the previous wedding I attended where I felt like the wedding planner was more inline with the festivities than the bride and groom.  This wedding was modest, shameless, and picture perfect in every way.  A room filled with 80 of their closest friends and family left it feeling intimate.  No longer was the bride walking around performing photo-ops to the point where she was too busy to talk and have real conversations.  Instead, she was genuine, stopping to converse with me about old times and laugh about inside jokes.  My ex co-worker, whom I befriended the 2nd week of work is a true gem and deserves the best from this marriage.  They had both met each other on match.com.  Jokes aside, it worked, and they became completely immersed in each others lives in a quick 6 months.  The man knew what he wanted.  He married her in barely a year.  That’s love.  That immediate feeling of “I NEED TO HAVE HER IN MY LIFE.”  That’s what I yearn for.  Throughout the wedding, stories were told about the most minor details of their relationship.  They pay attention to each other and most importantly, they sacrificed a lot for each other.  That was very meaningful to me.

It ended up making me feel amateur.

So in the meantime, I’m cleaning up my shit right now.  I have everything I need to be close to living a picture perfect life: an awesome job, a good family, my first very own car, and solid friends.  However, I know there’s more and that this is just one of those years where I re-organize; much like moving around furniture or cleaning your closet.

Really handsome man sitting in front of me at the coffee shop..

..but I can’t tell if he’s gay or straight.

Constant dilemma here in San Francisco.

same rules but more strict

Most people become more conservative as they age, but that usually refers to their spending habits or political views. For me, I become more conservative about my sexual habits – or lack thereof.

Last night, I had one of those is it a date/is it a group thing/are we just hanging out as friends situations. I seriously considered not writing about this, because I thought that he knew about this blog, but apparently he doesn’t. I asked. LOL. I mean, you have to be cautious.

I’ll call him Dig.

I knew Dig when I went to school in San Diego. I always thought he was cute, but it was one of those harmless crushes that always linger – even years later, because they’re so damn cute. Regardless, he found out from my Twitter that I was in DC for the week, so he reached out to me to meet up for drinks. Since I’m doing this new thing where I’m trying to step outside of my comfort zone, I decided to do something that I’ve never done before – I asked him out.

I’m crazy about rules. I’m all about, “Don’t kiss on the first, second, third, fourth, etc. etc. date.” “Never ask a guy out.” “Never put out until X amount of months.” “Never call the guy first.” etc. etc.

I figured that I was in DC, I’m newly single, bored out of my mind, and hey – it’s the first time in five years that the both of us were single. Granted, me asking him out wasn’t THAT groundbreaking – after all, he asked me for drinks, I just turned drinks into dinner. Whatever. Regardless, I was pretty proud of myself for breaking one of my stupid rules.

For one reason or another (work, client crises, colleague happy hours) I flaked on our date – twice. First off, he didn’t give me any crap. He understood that I was here for work, and that all leisurely activities were secondary. Second, even though I flaked on him, he still texted me the next morning, seeing if I was free for the night, WITHOUT seeming desperate. That’s a pretty amazing feat, if you ask me.

To make a long story short, last night was my last night here, so my colleagues and I planned a big dinner for our group, and decided to invite our friends from the area. I invited Dig, and we had a very loud, fun, drunken dinner with my colleagues, and then decided to ditch them at the last minute to go sightseeing.

He took me all over DC – all the monuments, parks, neighborhoods..it was kind of perfect. There were many moments where I knew I was supposed to kiss him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I mean, I just had my heart stomped all over not too long ago, and now that I’m finally okay, I definitely don’t want to dive head first into something new. Not to mention that we’re on opposite sides of the Atlantic. Also, he is probably the cutest guy I’ve hung out with over the last year, but that is by no means a reason to kiss him.

I know that I’m young, and this is the time to slut around and be free, but I am making a life choice to remain celibate so long as I’m not crazy about someone. I think that now, this also includes not kissing anyone. I want to save my kisses for someone that I’m going to love.

It’s raining men!

Hallelujah! It’s raining men! Amen!

And onto the next chapter..

I’m at a coffee shop right now with my headphones on and typing on my laptop.  I feel like a total douche.  What do people do here all day?  Who are these people and where do they get the time?  Oh well, I love being a douche.  There are also money chicks here.

It’s the most bittersweet feeling to be having right now.  As some of you know, this will be my last week in Chicago.  I’ll be moving back to the bay area as of Friday and working at Pandora.  On friday, we had one last going away event and about 25 people showed up.  I couldn’t believe how many people decided to come out and it got slightly emotional to say the least.  I’ve been pending this post for awhile since I haven’t had the time to really ground myself and explain how much Chicago has impacted my life in the past 6 years.  I don’t even know where to begin.  This post will be very long so I decided to break it up in milestones of my experiences.

Cultureshock

I remember the months leading up to moving to Chicago.  I had asked myself why I decided to choose DePaul.  The truth was, I had no choice.  Many people around me had a bevy of choices of where to go for school.  I ended up sitting in the midst of B to C-list schools that were all out of state.  The UC’s weren’t kind to me to say the least.  I knew this forged a change for me in my life.  I didn’t get into the out of state schools I wanted to like NYU or BU.  I was easily rejected based on my inability to draw geometric shapes and know the exact speed of light.  Instead, I had to be judged on lesser important things like, art, literature, and extra curriculers.  Either way, out of my list of “red headed step children,” DePaul was the closest I could get to an urban lifestyle.  I accepted before I even visited.  Once again, I had no choice.  I tried to deter myself from ever visiting schools.  Who am I (cum. gpa of 2.8) to tour a school that would never consider me?  I never understood the concept of touring schools.  I think they should do background checks (like approving your credit line for a card) before they let you tour.  I digress.  So I landed in Chicago with my dad to visit.  The city seemed pretty normal.  It was like San Fran, but cleaner, bigger, and wider roads.  I was somewhat intrigued.  First things first, I forced my dad to get chicago dogs with me.  We stopped by Demon Dogs next to my school before we started our tour.  The tour guide asks us “So are you guys considering DePaul?”  I answered, “No, I actually already accepted.  So…blow me away!”  We walked around the campus.  It was nice, small, somewhat modern, and well…White.  Of course, growing up in Fremont, where white people are the minority, and going to a high school where Indians ruled all, I was a bit culture shocked.

Everyone was white.  I walked around the campus subconsciously noticing non-white signals such as a poster for the annual “Asian Culture Exchange Open Mic.”  These small signals comforted me in the most bizarre way possible.  It wasn’t until then I realized how sheltered I was.  The next day was our orientation.  My dad had dropped me off in the morning to a slew of kids that looked like they were kids from summer camp on Disney Channel shows.  White, midwestern, scrubby hair, abercrombie, rugby shirts, etc.  The first girl I met was this gal from Wisconsin who still used AOL email addresses.  We actually ended up getting along very well and kept a solid back and forth email convo for the next 2 months before starting at DePaul.  I learned a lot from her.  I learned that Wisconsin is on top of Illinois.  Pretty cool huh?  The orientation lasted a day with an overnight stay and I was ready to bounce.  I wanted to get back to Cali as fast as possible. I got home and let out a sigh of relief that I was back in my comfortable setting not realizing that I’d spend the next 6 years of my life in Chicago.

One thing I realized into my first year of College is that people don’t lie when they say the nicest people are from the Midwest.  I have never met so many nice people.  Albeit some were ignorant, but they were always willing to learn.  Moving into my dorm, I befriended someone from Minnesota, Wisconsin, Indiana, Ohio, and Iowa.  Each person brought something new to the table.  I haven’t met anyone, however, that was from California.  Trust me; I looked.  It was a pain.  I couldn’t really relate with anyone.  I realized until I got to DePaul that this school was a gem in the Midwest, but unheard of outside the boundaries of Ohio and Iowa.  This sunk in.  I knew that moving forward, I had to adapt completely to this lifestyle.  I couldn’t be a transplant because there wasn’t a group I could find that even remotely remind me of home.  This was it, I had to become a Chicaaaaagoan. Owned.

Miami Dolphins Cheerleader

By my sophomore year, Diana and I had broken up.  The distance between Chicago and LA was unbearable to continue.  It was inevitable at the time.  We both knew it, but I didn’t want to admit to it.  The breakup was hard.  She was definetely quite the gem.  The way we met was great; last summer outing with my best friends in LA and there she was, this beautiful vietnamese girl (owned) with southern california style and an amazing tan.  I was struck immediately and had to have her.  Things worked out well but in result, it was a fling that went way past its expiration date.  We broke up in December and it hit hard.  I knew I had to get out of the slump because the cold ass fucking winter didn’t help.  That night, my roommates brought Red Stripe to my dorm and I ended up getting plastered.  It was well deserved.  I had realized I might have wasted a lot of valuable time in Chicago since I was always on the phone with my girlfriend.  This was the time to really open up and start enjoying the city.

When February rolled around, I was re-energized.  I had snagged an internship at MTV and started living it up by using the fake ID of Mr. Joe Laxamana, a 28 year old Filipino man living in Des Plaines, Illinois.  Shockingly, it worked.  I was close with my buddy Mike, who had a girlfriend that used to dance a lot.  Her best friend, low and behold, was currently a Miami Dolphina cheerleader.  This sparked my interest immediately.  Whenever she was in town, we would hang out and she was by far, the ultimate cheerleader.  The DSP Formal was coming up and I decided to ask her to join me.  She accepted.  I was ecstatic.  How many people can say they brought a Dolphins cheerleader to a formal?  We had a blast.  We went BIG that night.  That was when I began coining the phrase “Go Big or Go Home,” (Gucciman of course brought it back for me recently).

We met up with the Soxs General Managers son and hit up one of the hottest clubs in Chicago, Le Passage.  It was my first time walking through the kitchen to our table.  I remember feeling like a rockstar.  I know, i’m a total feag.  We hung out with Sox players of whom I have no clue who they were.  Anyways, we killed it on the dance floor and got wasted until they finally had to close down.  I was totally cuppin her ass the whole time we were dancing.  Money in the bank.  I had Lovelyn and Alfredo with me too and we always bring up this story.  It was one of the most surreal nights of my life.

We never talked much as I think she’s working at hooters or something at this point, but I will never forget how money it was.

Hype

Hype was a concept me and a friend felt we should start in Chicago.  We came up with this idea when we noticed everyone in SoCal was obsessed with syncronized dancing.  Think America’s Best Dance Crew.  So by my sophomore year, I was tasked in my frat to put together a huge event.  My minimal knowledge of dancing and the philino culture didn’t help, but as a marketer, I indulged myself into the “dance community.”  It was a pretty incredible part of my life.  The first Hype we put together, we ended up filling up the whole student center.  We had about 400 in attendence and 5-6 dance groups.  I remember that day, I was exhausted.  I hadn’t eaten all day and I was trying to rile up a shitload of dancers.  It was like a zoo; these people could give 2 shits about anything.  Once the event ended, we got huge press and raised almost a grand for the darfur coalition.

The next year, we threw Hype 2 in our schools Athletic Center, and over a thousand people showed up.  It was incredible.  By far, one of the coolest things that has happened to me in my life.  We had Crazy Legs show up and RedBull sponsored it.  At that time, I worked for MTV, so MTVU came along and did a short interview with me.  I had a great time putting this together and consider it as one of my greatest accomplishments (so far).  Overall, I don’t think I could’ve done enough for the Filipino community, LOL I kid I kid.  We’re at our 5th year now and I’ve passed it along to minions to take it over.  I hope it continues (as long as asians/blacks keep dancing).

Mexicans

Coming from California, who would’ve thought I’d befriend Mexicans in Chicago.  My first 3 best friends here were Mexican.  That was poor grammer, they are still mexican and still my best friends.  Sorry.  Anyway, my first roommate was Adam; this cracka ass white kid from some wonky ass town in Illinois.  He was nice as fuck but also lame and boring.  2 months into our stay, he ended up deciding to move in with our gay suite mate.  Weird.  Everytime I walked into my room, he would be huddled on the floor with Dan (gay suitemate) and wrestling.  It was fucking weird shit.  But whatever.  I also walked in on him with a girl on my bed.  The girl was disgusting too.  So things were’nt going to work out.  That’s where Esteban (or Steve) came into this picture.  This guy was a total thug.  He wore doorags, baggy clothes, and was woken up with a stereo alarm play Tupac’s Makiavelli every fucking morning.  However, beyond all his thug-ness, he was one of the sweetest and funniest guys ever.  Steve’s one line would always be “Shuttup, Cal!” and “Cal, I don’t buy it.”  “I don’t buy it,” was easily my favorite.  The guy never believed anything that came out of my mouth.  Hence, I would think to this day that he was right because I’m still full of shit.

Steve and I hit up my first real party in college.  He forced me out while I was on the phone with my gf, and told be me to “grow a set.”  Funny thing was that he also had a gf but tended to enjoy cheating on her with fat chicks in my hall.  We went to this party where I got sloshed and basically got to make out with a tall curly haired white chick.  Her favorite show was Trading Spaces and said she had a crush  on Verne Yip.  Just a few perks for being Asian; you can attract girls that happen to be into gay Asian interior designers.  FUUUCK.  Anyways, I turn around, Steve’s rap battling with some gringo and they are getting into it.  Next thing you know, a fight breaks out, and I quickly jump to pull him out of it.  The cops come, and since we were both freshmen, we ended up having to climb over a wall and jump off of it to escape.  I nearly sprained my ankle.  We ran, well I ran, Steve huffed and puffed to the nearest gas station to hide.  We then got 2 personal sized microwave garlic bread pizzas and called it a night.  One of the best/funniest nights ever.  Steve’s now in Afghanistan fighting for us.  Bless him.  That guy was all about the military (I’d be woken up in the middle of the night cause he would play Halo and yell at the TV thinking he was IN the game.)  One night I will always remember was when I was woken up by his laughter at 3AM cause he was reading “100 things to do at Walmart to piss off the workers.”  I wanted to kill him.  OH yeah, and like true mexican fashion, he’s also married and has a kid now.

Cesar, who I don’t talk to much anymore was a great friend; except he always did drugs and had to drink and smoke weed in order to fall asleep.  Obviously our lifestyles were very different, but he was hilarious.  There was a time where we hung out almost everyday and he introduced me to taking aderol for the first time.  Good times.  I ended up not being able to sleep for like 2 days so we just walked around the city for a full day doing nothing.

Alfredo, currently one of my closest friends, is one of the greatest guys I have met; ever.  He’s a stand up guy and I’ve mentioned him alot in my entries.  The first time we met was when we joined DSP.  He was tall and lanky and had a great sense of humor.  Him and I would dick around during meetings.  Alfredo used to be a party animal.  He would basically force me to use my fake ID on Thursday nights.  He also taught me how to Salsa dance.  We practiced in the kitchen like two gaylords.  It was awesome.  Alfredo also always listened to my bullshit when I was pursuing Maddison.  Everyday I got an email from her, I would ask him to help me dissect him.  Poor Alfredo.  This man will be at my wedding; that is how high I rank him in my life.

It was because of these Mexicans that I became “Chino” in Chicago.  One time, in Lisle, Illinois at a Marriot, some mexican kid walked by and said “Papa, that’s a Chinito!”  At that point Alfredo almost fell over laughing.  I asked him what a fucking Chinito was and he told me it was a Chinese person.  Ever since then, I’ve been known as the Chinito.  Whenever I go to his family parties, they call me Chino and make fun of me.  Whenever I went to our local Taqueria “Taco and Burrito Palace,” the workers would fuck with me and only ask me questions about my ordere in spanish while calling me Chino.  Owned.

Maddison

Maddison was my first real girlfriend in Chicago.  She was also might first real white girlfriend.  I learned a lot from her and her family.  I learned a lot of white things that I didn’t know before.  I really enjoyed this relationship.  Unforuntately, it had to end, but I pursued her for awhile.  It was one of my greatest challenges and quite the accomplishment.  We had some really good times together.  She really loved me.  I also really loved her.  However, after awhile, there’s only so much you can take from a republican.  There’s not much to say about her besides the fact that…she stopped my vietnamese streak.  Thank god. (sorry darla)

Dickin Around

Dickin around in Chicago has been great.  Where do I begin….  In Chicago, the lack of Asians make you quite the novelty.  I will miss this because when I move to SF, I will be owned.  Either way, the first girl I landed was Diabeties girl.  Long story short;  I hooked up with her one night thanks to my friend and went back to her place.  While making out, I felt some kind of fucking machine in her back.  Thinking it was a microphone thing, I asked her if I was on a reality show.  She then went into some detail about it being for her diabetes, I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.  To get her to shut up, I said something like “You’re a bigger woman for this,” or some bullshit.  It ended up working cause I planted her.  Then I woke up at 4am realizing I just planted a diabetic, and got out of there.  I stepped on her curling iron while running and got lost in her building.  What a night.

Then there was this girl I met at Soundbar.  I pulled off the whole “dance with your friend that’s a girl (brynn) while eye fucking another, then when she eye fucks you, you make the switch thus making her feel that you dropped another girl for her”  Money.  It totally worked.  We started dancing and making out.  I got her liquored up, we ended up going to McD’s and I saw her face in the light.  It was not as good as I expected, but fuck it.  She was 23, I was 19, I lied that I was 25, and went back to her place.  Done deal.  Good times.

I’ll just bring up one more that was my 3rd favorite.  This was my first non-white.  Unfortunately, a Filipino.  She was Love’s cousin.  As soon as we met up, Love told me she had a thing for me.  I ignored her the WHOLE night.  Didn’t even give her a chance.  Then once she got a bit more drunk, I went up to her, challenged her to 2 tequila shotsin a row.  Of course, when girls get drunk they get really fucking competitive (money) so she downed it.  Then I got an AMF to sip on all night (how Davis of me..) and ended up landing her.  It has been awhile since I got with an Asian and it felt nice cause she was more petit.

God, I feel dirty, but whatever.  These are only 3 of my top favorites.  Trust me, the majority of the time, I FAIL.  However, there was this one time (my finest moment) in SD that I planted in a girl in literally 10 minutes.  I think it was pre-defined at that point thanks to my girlfriend telling her about me in the beginning.  She was Fug but it was def $ in the bank.

Shady Entreprenuers

As a big BS-er, I’ve built a thicker skin in Chicago due to shady businessmen.  I’ve been fucked over atleast 3 times.  Good times.  First was some greek guy.  He wanted me to help him start a design conference in partnership with top interior designers.  This was a great opportunity for me at the time cause I was only a freshmen.  He didn’t pay me but he bought me lunch or dinner everytime we met.  He was a nice guy at the time.  When the world’s biggest interior design expo, NeoCon, came to Chicago he told me he wanted to bring me there.  I showed up that day at Navy Pier and met up with him.  Tickets are usually like 2 grand each.  I was like, damn, this is going to be great.  He ended up sneaking me in.  This should’ve been the first sign of his shadiness.  The next 3 months, I had helped him design business cards and do some cold calling.  It was a good experience until he all of a sudden disappeared.  I have no clue where he is now, maybe somewhere in Greece.  A few years later I saw a logo I designed for him on a site and I believe he’s now working at some interior design firm.  I contacted him but he never got back to me.  I got fucked.

The next shadefest guy was mr. denim.  This guy was a jew (should’ve known better) and approached me because he was starting his own denim line called BYA (billions of years ago).  I got stoked being young and naive.  I designed half of his shit, including tags, logos, overal pocket design, etc.  I built a site for him too.  He ended up not dropping a dime for me.  When it got to the point where he asked me to sign a non disclosure agreement, I had declined because I didn’t feel comfortable signing my name on anything.  We then got into a falling out situation when one of my emails saying that “I’m looking forward to work on this more since It’s getting more serious than I thought” rubbed him the wrong way.  He got mad and we never talked again.  Thank god that denim company went nowhere.  What an idiot.  Fuck, I was the idiot to helping him out.

Lesson learned; bullshitters come dime a dozen.  Be careful of people who talk a lot.  One of my favorite quotes from the movie, Hustle & Flow:

There are two types of people: those that talk the talk and those that walk the walk. People who walk the walk sometimes talk the talk but most times they don’t talk at all, ’cause they walkin’. Now, people who talk the talk, when it comes time for them to walk the walk, you know what they do? They talk people like me into walkin’ for them.

Don’t Stop, Believin’

One thing I will never miss is how many times I have heard this song.  I hope that moving out of Chicago will end this horrible tradition where every bar plays this song at the end of the night.  This song and anything Bon Jovi should die a slow death and never be brought up again.

Finally, I’d like to end my post with a list of go-to restaurants that have captured my heart and soul here in Chicago:

Cafe BaBa Reeba (or Cafe Eberico)

Tango Sur

Lou Malnatis (best deep dish…ever..get the Lou with sausage)

Noodles in the Pot (Money Thai)

Billy Goats Tavern (Money Burgers)

Allende (Mexican, best Salsa EVER)

Taco and Burrito Palace (Best Tacos…and Burritos..who would’ve thought)

Branko’s (Money burgers, brats, dogs, gyros – they pack the meat in)

Athenian Room (Get their greek fries…sooo money)

House of Sushi and Noodles (Money all you can eat sushi for 15 bones)

Noodles & Company (franchise but haven’t seen it in Cali yet, great great fast food noodles from all over the world)

Jimmy Johns (Money sandwiches)

Potbelly’s (Even more money toasted sandwiches)

Mr. Beef (Best italian beef sandwiches, a chicago staple)

Wiener Circle (Money fries and classic chicago char dog, you will get yelled at by the workers as well if you don’t tip)

Coco Pazzo (MOOOONEY Italian cuisine, great outdoor seating)

Ian’s Pizza (Amazing pizza selections that are out of this world ie. mac and cheese, taco, etc)

Las Tablas (Columbian Steakhouse, A-Mazing and affordable.  I took busdriver to this one)

Publican (Beers from all over the world and money peasant food)

Avec, Blackbird (Chicago owned fine dining)

TABLE 52 (AMAZING.  Oprah’s personal chef Art Smith’s restaurant)

Bin 36 (Must go for wine and cheese flight)

MOTO (Expensive but weird food, menu is eadible)

Gene & Georgetties (Best steak, hands down)

Okay, that’s enough for now.

Fuckkkk

So, I was snooping through my boyfriend’s computer, and guess what I found in his favorites? THIS BLOG!

Owned.

So, my cover’s been blown. But I’m not in trouble. At all!

He was so sweet about it, telling me, “I don’t want to read the earlier entries because I don’t want to have a reason to be mad at you.” (I’ve read him all the earlier entries – they’re probably the worst.) He also said, “I give you a lot of grief, so I understand that you have a blog.” (He doesn’t give me that much grief, I am just a really big drama queen.) He even noted that he understands that me blogging about our relationship “comes with the package” – I mean, wow. This guy loves me!

Anyway, Scott,  I love you!

Way overdue

I’ve been having stomach troubles almost consistently every weekend since the start of february.  So here I am again, pertched on the toilet with my laptop on my lap (as usual).  This time, i’m not looking at porn or reading the huffington post, but instead, writing a way long overdue post for this blog that, to be honest, I have no idea why it still exists.

So where do I start….okay, let’s start from my last post, which I believe was after V-Day when I watched “He’s not that into you,” a movie that kind of sort of changed my life.  Fucked up, i know.  People’s lives are changed by real films like “Citizen Kane,” or “Breakfast at Tiffanys” and i’m here saying that “He’s not that into you” changed my life.  I’m a total fag.  So yeah, the movie fucking changed my life.  How? Well as you can tell, i’m no longer typing up stories and shenanigans with random women in my life anymore.  In fact, my social life has heavily decreased in both action and ownage.  It’s bizarre.  I no longer yearn to palm boobies or make out with fuglies.  I have more important things to think about in life now, and that’s how do I get the fuck out of Chicago!

Everyone has an expiration date.  Mine hit me last year, but then I gave it another year thinking work people will excited me.  Now i’m bored again.  I’m bored with everyone that currently hangs out with me in Chicago.  I love them, but you know when you feel like you’ve hit the “peak” of a friendship with someone?  That it no longer continues to grow anymore?  Yeah, that’s how I feel with them.  Brynn, god bless her, one of my closest girlfriends in the city…I’d be confident to say that she’s a best friend, is going to stay the same forever.  She is trying to lose weight on this low carb plan that you know, works for some people, and doesn’t work for others.  In her case, I’d hate to say that she’s stuck with the latter.  So now we barely go out to eat.  I love carbs and I love sushi.  She can’t eat both.  So f-it.  I’m over it.  We hang out for brunch on Sundays still but all she talks about now is who stuck their P in her V.  I get it, you have one night stands, move on.  Total snorefest.  Than I just tell her everytime, maybe you shouldn’t expose your V to any guy.  Maybe you should I don’t know, like make him work for it?  Nope, still does it.  There’s just not much I can do anymore.
Then there’s Anthony, god bless this guy, he is my personal accountant, and a man that I will trust for the rest of my life.  What happens when you add accountant to the word trust? Bore-fucking-ring.  Lives at home, single but has no balls, and totally safe as fuck.  Although he just went out on a date with this girl thats not bad at all.  She’s a looker.  I gave him some tips, basic rules that I never follow but tell other peopl to, and things are going well.  You can’t go wrong with black shirt and dark jeans on the first date.  Simple and to the point.

Alfredo, we hung out yesterday.  It was nice to catch up.  Watched I love you, man.  Hilarious.  Had a good time.  Then told me he’s been visiting his GF in Milwaukee every 2 weeks, staying in Best Western next to her house (she lives at home) and playing video games.  Cool.

So i’m now at a crossroads.  I’m bored with my friends, and I can care less about going out anymore.  In fact, the only time I actually go out now, is when my pothead friends Pete and Alex drag me to their house after work to smoke weed.  I’m the farthest thing from pothead but I join nonetheless.  We watch South Park and eat pizza and drink beer.  What a life, reminds me of being back in Fremont. Where is this all leading me?  Priority wise, I need a change in environment.

I need to move back to California.  I need sun.  I need to drive.  I need options.  I need to be able to pick up groceries in a vehicle and not roll a homeless man cart down the road.  I need to be financially responsible.  I need to clean my life up.  My place has been a mess as of late.  I leave my laundry on my couches cause I have no roomate.  I shower with my doors open.  I leave shit everywhere and I haven’t been cooking much.  If I could grow a beard, I’d have one now.  Emo?  Let’s just say I’ve been blasting Death Cab whenever I get a chance.

So i’ve been interviewing intensely.  I’ve been chasing and following recruiters, running down to lobbies to get on a phone, scheduling calls after 5:00pm, and doing everything I possibly can to leave in the worst economy since the great depression.  What a challenge!  So as you can see, the least of my worries involve boobs, vag, silky long hair, and a cute ass.  I sound like a total homosexual now, but i’m not.  I swear.  My focus has just drifted into something more important like, my life?  I’m unhappy with it and it’s time I need to turn it around.

Wish me luck!

and there it is

works busy. just lost a deal. ibm buys sun. done. wtv, hpq is effed 

my president is black, my maybach is blue…lala 

… so martin lutha could walk, martin lutha walks so barack obama can run wtv

i need to go home and sleep. average 1.4x burritos per day this week.

What a Weekend.

My fingers are itching/twitching because I have much to tell you all.

My weekend was pretty packed. Here are some highlights:

• I had a drink thrown on me for the first time. Acutally, the drink was thrown at me, The Bus Driver and Shoes at the same time. My poor silk dress. Some drunk idiot walked through our table and caused a big commotion. When he didn’t leave, one of Shoes’ friends pushed him, and he turned around and threw a drink at the three of us. Right when that happened, TBS, Shoes and Shoes’ friend lunged at the guy. We all got kicked out, but it didn’t really matter because we finished our bottle anyway. From start to finish, we were in the club for 10 minutes. The club was wack – too many Asian girls w/too much makeup. Yech!
• I have been drunk every night since Thursday. Someone please save my body!
• The Colbert Report is on…sorry – gotta run.

quiet sunday

woke up at 8. went for a walk around the park with minnie and fatty. remembered nov 2003 volunteering at the homeless shelter. those were the days. i was the shit n i didnt even realize.