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Kim

ABOUT ME:

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Mom + B [Tuesday,
January 15th, 2008]
[ mood | contemplative ]

"The wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what's right
Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside,
Frightened of this thing that I've become"

The first time Bernard met my family, it was like a scene out of a Vietnam war movie, where the white guy swoops in on a hut filled with appehensive refuges. I had just moved into my uncle's separated spare room at the time, and my mom had stopped by to have dinner. I had hoped everyone would be gone by the time B arrived, but when I realized it wouldn't happen, I resolutely asked my mom if she would like to meet my boyfriend. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she placed a defiant hand on her hip before replying, "Of course!" Considering she had never formally met any of my previous boyfriends, compounded with the fact that I had never before even mentioned Bernard's existence, this was a big fucking deal. As he pulled up (thank GOD not on his bike; that would've nixed any chance of a good impression), I ran out and said, "You're going to have to meet my mom, grandma, schizophrenic uncle, and other uncle and his wife. Yeah, now. Close your mouth."

Well, in that scene, he totally saved the day and got a medal for bravery. Considering that three of the five didn't speak English, he made a pretty good impression. My grandma really liked him, and I loooove my grandma. (Now that I think about it, she's so wonderful she would love anyone I date. Except for women. And black men. Haha, kidding. Well, I'm pretty sure the women part would destroy her, but as for black guys, it's up in the air.) My mom gave him the third degree, and after hearing about his level of education and his job, scrutinizing his appearance and disposition, and then later probing me about whether or not he was good to me and paid for everything, gave her approval.

These days, Momma Ho is totally Team Bernard. She's constantly on my back not to lose him. When she happened to stop by before I was about to leave for Yosemite with Dre, Tim, and Jason, she lowered her voice and suspiciously inquired, "You're going with these good-looking guys? Does Bernard know about this? Is he ok with it?" When she comes to the apartment, she repeatedly lectures, "Clean up your room! Look at this mess! He's not going to marry you if he sees this! No man wants a messy wife!" And if I pout about it to B for some comfort, this is what I get from him: "Yeah! That's true! Clean up!" But the worst was the time Bernard and I went to the PV house to borrow some sleeping bags for Catalina and she was home. We sat around and chatted, and suddenly my mom began berating me for my faults and telling B to push me to fix them, while he earnestly replied that he was trying!

I just wanted this entry to be a collection of some hilarious things that my mom has said about B over the years, and I couldn't even do that without writing a plethora of backstory. Ugh, I need to be more concise, damnit. And even now, I can't just dive right in without explaining that my Mom is really superstitious. She's from central Vietnam, one of the poorest areas in the country, and she didn't leave her homeland until she was almost 35. So keep that in mind when reading these quotes!

"That guy, B-Buh--yeah, he seems nice, but why won't you date a Vietnamese man?"

"Why does he travel so much? What if he's seeing other women? Trust!? You can never fully trust a man! I'm telling you this now so that you won't get hurt later!"

"I can tell he's very tight with his money. You know why? It's the way that he talks. He mumbles with a very pinched mouth. That's how you can tell they're careful with their money."

"Both of you have the type of soul components that will be very successful with any job involving metals. So get him to help out at the salon more, and business will pick up!"

"Honey! Great news! I just consulted the fortune teller--you and Bernard are going to be rich! He's going to be really, really rich!"
But the next day...
"What year was he born again? Oh...hmm, nevermind then. Let me check with the fortune teller again and I'll call you back."
She never did call back about that. Hmmm...

"Grandma says that you need to hurry up and get married and have babies so that she's still around to raise them. Do it for grandma!"

And my favorite, after I showed her B's "underwear model" pictures and telling her he did it in college for money:
"What?! What else was he doing for money?!"

And what B said, when I told him that I showed her the pics:
"What is wrong with you?!"

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#1 [Tuesday,
July 24th, 2007]
[ mood | awake ]

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new
And after having spent the day together
Hold each other close the whole night through"

Before I delve into blogging about the first of all my lovers, a little back-story is in order. By the time I was seventeen, the internet had become an integral part of my social life for nearly four years. I had already met two guys from chatting on AOL version 3.0, both with abysmal results. The first was when I was fifteen or sixteen, Victor, a Vietnamese guy with whom Cam went to middle school. At the time, Cammie and Giz were best friends, and she had told Giz to warn me, "Watch out. He's kind of a player." So at the very least, that should imply that the guy is good looking, right? Yeah. Well. I was not attracted to him. At all. He was gawky, dark, a wannabe thug, and he blew cigarette smoke in my face when we met up at the Galleria Mall. The second was Lex, a Filipino who I totally "fell" for, and had many phone conversations where we tried to work up the nerve to meet in person. Then he stopped calling, and I was heartbroken. By the time he finally wanted to see me a few months later (after it didn't work out with some other girl), I was over him and casually making out with Mark from Narbonne. But Mark wanted Roza, who wanted Jeff Jerm, who was torn over Mark's ex, who Mark still wanted back on some level, and--oh yeah did I mention Dre wanted Jeff Jerm too? (so much that she pointed out I got his name wrong? haha)-- that was certainly one big mess. Anyway, I reluctantly met Lex at the Manhattan Village Mall, and he was both unattractive and annoying. (On a strange note, he almost dated Nancy after we met online but before we met in person, and somehow he met Giz and they became acquaintances.)

So I was seventeen, alone, and also deeply involved in my second online crew at that point. The first, Asian Invasion (AI), somehow led to the one with Z00Mx, which was somehow affiliated with import cars and shows. God, I don't even remember the details. All I know is I was chillin' with a group of pretty cool people, and I occasionally went to import shows with them. I got Giz involved, and as embarrassing as it is to confess, those were some good times. Giz and I would roll to the meetings, and it was awesome to be able to share that experience with one of my best friends. The founders of the crew started a website, which towards the end of my membership went from innocently promoting hot import models to suddenly charging horny men to see their naked pics. (Oh snap, it's still up! I just looked. Check it out!) Also, the dynamics of the crew itself changed from hanging out and having fun at import shows to randomly becoming all out club promoters for Legend Entertainment (shit, I wonder if they're still around). We'd go kick it with DJ Icy Ice and thought we were so cool, lol. And by the way, I never really promoted. The stacks of fliers I was given to distribute? They'd be crammed into the glove compartment every time. Whatever, I don't feel bad; it's not like I got paid.

Man, that's a longer back-story than I anticipated. But I had to get into it, because that's how I met Pico: at one of the later Z00Mx meetings in Cerritos, summer of 2000. He strolled out of his souped up, show-car Civic and I was instantly crushing. (Oh, shut up. And for the record, I hated his rice-rocket.) He was this tall (5'11"), wife-beater sporting, beefy Asian with a buzzed head. I'm pretty sure we were making eyes at each other throughout that meeting, and then later we went home and chatted online until we were both glowing with mutual gravitation. I don't remember, but I know for sure that by the next meeting, he awkwardly put his arms around me, which made some heads turn in amusement. We were both just seventeen, and we really liked one another. And you know what? Now that I look back on it, my very first boyfriend was a sweetheart. I'm glad I didn't lose it to some jackass; we both truly cared about one another, even though we were too immature to properly apply those feelings.

Immature might be an understatement. Over the course of ten months, we broke up and got back together between 10-20 times. I want to say it was 17, but it might be more like 11 or 12. I hate when my memory fails me. Pico lived in Long Beach, and his parents owned a pharmacy; his sister was 21 at the time and a student at CSULB, and homegirl drove a BMW. I believe he had another older sister, who probably also had a nice car which I cannot recall. His mother was either Chinese, or Cambodian, or both, but she was raised in the Chinese speaking part of Vietnam. So she knew how to speak Vietnamese, and it would trip me out to have conversations with her in it. Pico himself was Chinese-Cambodian; he was the baby of the family, the only son, and he was always broke. At first, I didn't care--I finally had a boyfriend! I was the one with a steady job (workin' the minimum wage at Malibu Castle), so I didn't mind paying for everything. Until it really became everything. Until his mom would give him $20 and he would just pocket the money and wait for me to open my wallet for gas (because I always drove). Until it was my 18th birthday, and he had spent his money at a strip club the weekend before, so we went out to the movies and got Jamba Juice on my tab for my birthday. After it was over, it was difficult to think of him as such a great guy, but in retrospect he really was aside from the financial aspect of the relationship.

Now, onto my favorite part: the sex! Ok, at first I was hesitant to use his name, because who knows if he might see this and take offense, but I haven't spoken to him in years and I don't really have anything bad to say. Well, I will be unfailingly honest and mention that he was on the small side--but that has nothing to do with his prowess as a lover. I want to emphasize that I'm grateful that I had him to break me in, lol. Besides, most people assume Asian men aren't packing too much anyway, right? (Har har. I'm actually quite displeased with this stereotype. I think I'm more displeased with the fact that none of my friends have been able to disprove it yet. C'mon, big guy, step up and represent! I know you're out there somewhere!) I lost my virginity to him on the floor of his living room while no one was home. He was lying on the ground, and after I made my decision, I jumped on it and slammed myself down. No blood, no searing pains, and definitely no pressure from my boyfriend to go through with it. I used to know the date, but now I only recollect that it was either November or December of 2000. Our subsequent sex life was pretty damn decent. As corny as it sounds, he awoke the sex monster inside me; I've been a complete and utter horndog ever since. Never did I have any feelings of disappointment in regards to his size. It was more than enough. He was also very into giving oral, which was awesome, although unfortunately his enthusiasm surpassed his skills and I didn't come once from it. But I'll have you know that he is the only guy who has ever given me an orgasm during sexual intercourse without the aid of any objects. Not just one, but two! Remember when I mentioned he was beefy? Well, I don't mean fat, but he did have a thick belly, which I loved to squeeze, but loved even more because it would rub against my clit when I rode him, giving me those two orgasms during intercourse.

So there you have it! That was the story of my first real boyfriend and lover, and overall it was a great experience. We broke up when I left him after falling for #2, but I'll get to that tomorrow night. If you're lucky.

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Ritual [Monday,
June 11th, 2007]
[ mood | amused ]

"Who cares what games we choose?
Little to win, but nothing to lose.

Incense and peppermints, meaningless nouns.
Turn on, tune in, turn your eyes around.
Look at yourself, look at yourself,
Yeah, yeah!"

Lately my bedtime habits have been atrocious. I can hardly ever muster up the motivation to wash my face before I go to sleep. Especially whenever I sleep at B's. I know if he were to reproach me on how I never wash my face, I'd start doing it out of guilt. But he actually gets irritated when I tell him I need to (it cuts into his sleep-time), and my laziness yields no objection to that. I just happily hop into his bed, get oral, and fall asleep. My skin is far from perfect, which means I should definitely be washing it (not to mention that it's always caked in makeup, which makes it so much worse not to clean it). But it's hard to care that much when even Tomo, the skin regiment drill sergeant, tells me that I have pretty decent skin considering how dirty I let it be. (Thanks, Proactiv! You hook me up! We've had over five magical years together. I'm so sorry I cheated on you last year with the Murad Acne Complex system. That thing effed my skin up badly; I learned my lesson and I will never stray again.)

Anyway, I finally bought the skin product that I've been coveting for a while: the Lancome Resurface-C Microdermabrasion Skin Polish and Radiance Renewing System with 20% Aluminum Oxide Crystals, 6% Physio-Polish Enhancer & Pure Vitamin C. (Say that three times fast.) Every time I buy a new skincare thing, I always diligently wash my face and apply it with innocent excitement, hoping that this might be the one that brings forth the creamy complexion hiding beneath all my dull cells, oily pores, and redness. Then nothing drastically changes enough, or the lure of immediate sleep is too tempting, and I start going back to my old, unwashed habits. But for the time being (one week? perhaps two?), starting tonight, you can rest assured that my face will be undergoing the following procedures:

#1) rinse face with warm/hot water
#2) ProActiv Solution Renewing Cleanser
#3) rinse face and pat dry
#4) ProActiv Solution Revitalizing Toner
#5) rinse face (skin needs to be damp for next step)
#6) Lancome Resurface-C Microdermabrasion Cream
#7) rinse face and pat dry
#8) Lancome Resurface-C Microdermabrasion Serum
#9) ProActiv Solution Repairing Lotion
#10) Cosmedicine Eye Cream with Light Diffusers
#11) DDF Dramatic Radiance TRF Cream (OMG...best moisturizer EVER...I'm going to cry when my sample runs out. A 1.7oz bottle is $95!!)
#12) Bare Escentuals RareMinerals Skin Revival Night Treatment

Do you SEE all the shit I have to do?! Now can you blame me for thinking, "Uhhh...neeeeeh" most nights? But like I said, I do want to give the Lancome stuff a fair shot, so let's see how this new routine works out for the next few weeks. I had my first session of all that earlier, and I have to admit that my skin feels pretty amazing right now. Appearance-wise is another story.

This is a pretty shallow post that normally would go on Myspace, but I don't want Bernard reading about this and knowing what I've been splurging on. Hehehe. Spoken like a future lady of the house who holds the purse strings! I KNOW that B does not ever look at this site any more because every time I'm on his computer and I press the letter L, all these [porn]sites he's been to show up on the "let me predict where you're trying to go" bar, and Livejournal hasn't been one of them since the beginning of last year. Before, especially after we'd get in a fight, I'd see my LJ as one of his go-to sites, but now I guess the smug bastard knows he's too wonderful of a boyfriend for me to talk crap about him. Actually, the only time it gets on my nerves is when I DO write crap about him and I check to see if he's read it and he doesn't. Ugh! Whatever, I'm cheating on him with his coworker. And know what else? Last night, I SOOOOO faked it.

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[Monday,
April 16th, 2007]
[ mood | pissed off ]

"There ain't no doubt in no ones mind
That love's the finest thing around,
Whisper something warm and kind
And hey babe the sky's on fire, I'm dyin'
Ain't I, goin' to Carolina in my mind"

Nothing like James Taylor to soothe my raging soul.

I hate my tax guy. Really, truly, utterly LOATHE him.

I'm so mad that I put myself in this position of being stuck with one of the most unethical fuckers I have ever met in my life.

I just want him to finish my taxes and never have to see him again.

I plan on writing all about this later; right now I have to eat something and get to class.

ARGH!!

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And I'm Spent [Thursday,
March 29th, 2007]
[ mood | silly ]

"You try to gimme your money
You better save it, babe
Save it for your rainy day

I have only one burning desire
Let me stand next to your fire!"

I just Myspaced for one furious hour; I also IMDBed JP (who says he can hook up my sister with a job), Googled a few things, and verbed a few websites. Now I'm going to find my vibrator and get really spent. I love this thing. Actually, since it's relevant, I'll post the human sexuality journal entry that I typed up last month about that:

I never had much of an interest in sex toys. Being a healthy 23 year old with an active and monogamous sex life, I harbored a major misconception of female sex toys. I pictured them exactly how they were depicted in the porno movies geared for men: massive dildos, large vibrating phallic tubes, or the oh-so-romantic butt plug. And since I personally did not need to insert anything in myself in order to orgasm, what use did I have for those?
Within the past fortnight, I was proven horribly wrong. It all started in the first week of February. My best friend from high school, who was leaving the country to teach English in Prague for an indefinite time period, gushed to me about her sex life with an amazing guy who won her heart just weeks before her journey. He was the first lover to ever induce orgasms from her during intercourse. (And believe me, many have tried.) I was envious. Even I have yet to experience that! My boyfriend has to always resort to oral stimulation in order to bring me to a climax. Envy soon turned to disbelief when I discovered that it wasn't just intercourse that made her peak--it was intercourse and a sex toy.
A sex toy?! She confirmed it, and highly recommended for me to get one of my own, and to practice alone with it before I introduced it to my boyfriend. She explained that what she used was a vibrator, a tiny little device that sent her soaring to new heights. It was a non-evasive, pulsating, pink contraption made for the average woman. Pink! But it wasn't just limited to that shade; you could have it in any color you wanted! That conversation truly piqued my interest, and also embarrassed me for my utter ignorance in the matter.
One week after that conversation, I went out with my former roommate to celebrate her birthday. Her female coworkers, a friendly and boisterous group of servers at a popular Long Beach restaurant, had all chipped in to buy her--what else?--a vibrator. She opened up the gift and blankly inquired, "What's this?" Looking at that adorable, translucent, purple playmate the size of a finger with four interchangeable silicon heads totally strengthened my resolve to buy one.
And now, today, I was chatting with another best friend, when coincidentally the subject of--what else?--her vibrator came up. Several years earlier for her birthday, our gay friend bought her a 12 inch, silver shaft that vibrated on three different settings. (On a hilarious side note, she once returned home to find to her horror that her mother had found it...and was obliviously resting her head on it, thinking it was a neck massager.) My best friend never did anything with it, until about a year ago when she discovered that just keeping it between her legs would make her come from the vibrations. So during our discussion, she confessed that she had been mortified when the guy she was sleeping with came over and found the gargantuan toy under her pillow. Within the hour, I ordered two cute, small, purple vibrators off the internet, with a three-pack of vibrating cock-rings to boot!

Same subject, continued a few days later in the Human Sexuality journal:

Last Friday, I received a package in the mail. My vibrator! I giddily jumped for joy when I saw my new little friend. That night, I tried it. And I've tried it every night since. Sometimes twice a night. I have yet to tell my boyfriend. His birthday is this Sunday, and I want to surprise him with it. I'm very excited about that. But at the same time, my vibrator has made me somewhat bitter, especially the after the first satisfying interaction. Why? Because I realized that during most of my active sex life, particularly with the more selfish lovers I encountered, I could've had a raging good time through intercourse if I had just known about this little thing. It could've saved me about four years of bad sex, of inwardly sighing when only the guy got off, of passive-aggressive anger from being sexually unfulfilled.
I can't believe it took me this long, but now that I know, I want to pass on the knowledge. I want all my female friends to know about this, so that they can take charge and get some earth-shattering vaginal contractions during the average intercourse session. And plus, it's hot! What guy isn't going to want to see his girlfriend playing with herself? Not to mention it'll take the pressure off him too, because most women really cannot orgasm during intercourse. Man, if only I had known about this five years ago!

That was written before my birthday, which is a couple of days before Bernard's. I had also wanted to give the cock-rings to B as one of my gifts for his birthday. Guess what he ended up giving me as one of my birthday gifts? A four pack of vibrating cock-rings! We are so meant to be.

Oh, and for the sake of honesty and updating...
Girl #1: She never really described it as being pink. I took it upon myself to embellish that part of the story.
Girl #2: A few weeks ago, I asked her how she liked her birthday present. She held her breath a moment before breathing out, "It's awesome." We then proceeded to gush about how incredible they were.
Girl #3: She actually prefers the big dildo! She thinks the small vibrator is too harsh on her clit. I think she just needs to use it more and get used to it.
Fun Fact #1: All three girls can be found on my top Myspace friends.
Fun Fact #2: I've had my toy for over one month now, and, not counting the nights I've spent at B's, I have used it every night.
Fun Fact #3: Before, I used to give myself 2-3 orgasms per week. Now it's 2-3 per day. No joke. I can't help it; it's too easy now!

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[Thursday,
February 22nd, 2007]
[ mood | jubilant ]

"Where do you move when
What you're moving from is yourself?
The universe works on a math equation
That never even ever really even is any end
Infinity spirals out creation
We're on the tip of its tongue"

My love is back, and the best part is being able to be in my bed, with my laptop, lights on, mellow music playing, typing away, while he obliviously slumbers next to me. This never happens. He's the kind of sleeper who insists that everything be turned off, and for me to be lying quietly next to him, asleep or not. But after I picked him up from LAX, I had to stop by my place first before I could take him home. Then he initiated a delicious romp, and naturally needed to follow that up with a nap. Two hours later, he's still out cold. I love it! I love hearing him breathe, I love being able to just turn and watch him. The way he looks when he's asleep always makes me melt. I even took a picture of it, albeit grainy due to the indirect lighting. God, I sound like a sprung teenager with a complete lack of proper diction.



OMG he just woke up and grabbed my arm. I'm typing with one hand. And now he shifted to put his head on my chest! I love him! Ok, now he woke up and strode off naked to the bathroom...awww booo, now he wants me to take him home. All the lovey dovey feelings are gone. Maaaan.

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[Thursday,
February 8th, 2007]
[ mood | worried ]

"A promise ring is given to a romantic partner to signify a promise to be committed in a monogamous relationship, usually a precursor to marriage. The gift of the ring indicates that serious courting is under-way. It can be given as a symbol that a couple does not feel that it is an appropriate time to consider engagement or marriage but are serious about each other and their relationship.

A promise ring can be worn on any finger on the left or right hand, although ring fingers are far preferred. Most often it is the left ring finger, but due to engagement confusion, the right ring finger is finding acceptance in today's world."

My friend, who is trying desperately to win back his ex-girlfriend, asked me for ideas for the upcoming Valentine's Day. I suggested he pack a picnic, choose a gorgeous spot in Palos Verdes, and jokingly added that he should conclude it with a diamond promise ring...

Sellout: hummm... how much are they?
Sellout: i'm serious
Me: I was kidding! besides, there's not really such a thing as a diamond promise ring...you basically pick out a ring, preferably WiTH a diamond, and then call it a promise ring
Me: and you can get a diamond ring anywhere between $50 to $50K haha
Sellout: oh man
Sellout: whats the more reasonable amount?
Me: if you're serious about this...you should make sure they have a return policy in case she refuses to take it
Sellout: for a decent ring but that i can offord
Sellout: ok...i need to really ur help
Me: tell me your price range and I will help you find the nicest one
Sellout: lets start around $200 to under $900
Me: think about it, seriously...it might freak her the fuck out...or it might make her completely fall for you again...but again, it might freak her out
Sellout: yes
Sellout: i'm going for it

Man, I should've kept my mouth shut. But at the same time, I was thrilled to get a legitimate excuse to look at diamond rings. Until I slowly realized that this shit is complicated. Here are just a few of the things I had to consider:

- Return Policy. I'm not trying to have the fucker heartbroken and stuck with a ring in case she refuses to take it. That rules out the Asian jewelers, where you can hands-down get the best value for the money, but where returns are not permitted under any circumstances.
- Price. I know he gave me up to $900 to work with, but I'm going to do my best to stick around the lower amount out of principle. She's not even his gf anymore! I bet she's not going to do jack for him on V-Day. (I do feel that she's a great person, and that she probably still loves him.)
- History. Alright, just because I personally believe that conflict-free diamonds are the way to go, does that mean I should impose that on my friend as well? Should I pass on a great deal just because the diamonds might have African bloodstains on them?
- Online vs. In-Store. I'm used to online shopping. I love it. But that probably is a really bad idea when it comes to diamonds. The written values of clarity, cut, etc. are squat compared to holding it in your hands and seeing if it sparkles in low light. (I remember that from going to Robbin's Brothers with Chris.) Which brings me to my next concern...
- Hanging Out. Not with the diamonds, but with my friend. Not sure if that's such a good idea. He's a cool guy, and it's safe to talk to him online, but I even avoid his phone calls. I'm not going to get into this too much; let's just say the last thing I want is to be alone with him.

Anyway, I figured I needed help, especially since I hardly know anything about diamonds. So I went to Trang, the local expert on these rocks, and she made it even worse! Now here's some more shit I need to think about:

- Quality. Does it even really matter? It's not a fucking engagement ring. You can't expect stunning stones within that price range. As long the ring is pretty, and the baubles don't appear too cloudy or moldy or whatever the hell it is that indicates low quality, it should be ok, right?
- Tiffany's. Every girl loves Tiffany's. Why not just get her something from here? I guess it is an option, but I think my friend's pretty excited about the diamond aspect of the ring, and the only diamond Tiffany rings in his range are excruciatingly butt ugly.

If anyone can offer any help, HOLLA! I'll be updating with links to rings as I find them. So far I like this one, but Trang immediately shot it down by saying that the diamonds are beyond shitty. Even then, I wouldn't care, because I think it is really pretty, but then over the internet you never know if when you get it, the diamonds will be beyond dull. Plus it's getting pretty up there on the price range. Ugh, see what I mean?! This stuff is too complex!

PS: Ok I just found two Tiffany rings (one, two) that're higher than my personal price range, but still in his. I'm torn on these. Number one is lovely; number two is so appropriate for the occasion, is one hundred bucks cheaper, and has not just one but two diamonds. Still, both rings are too fucking expensive when you consider the size of the gems!

At the very least, I want input from Dre, Jade, and Cam. I'd say Giz too, but the bitch never reads my entries. Anyway, you all know you love Tiffany's and diamonds. Help me out here!

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Birthday Wishlist [Sunday,
January 28th, 2007]
[ mood | lazy ]

"This kind of love is getting expensive
We know how to live baby
We're luxurious like Egyptian cotton
We're so rich in love we're rollin' in cashmere
Got it in fifth gear baby
Diamond in the rough is lookin' so sparkly"

Honestly, I don't really need anything, but even when a girl doesn't need anything, she still wants lots and lots of clothes. And accessories. Like bags. And shoes. Mmm. Unfortunately, Bernard's a bit clueless when it comes to that kind of stuff. (For Christmas, my beautiful, generous boyfriend bought me a beautiful, generous-sized coat that I will probably wear five times in my life. What a waste!) And since I know he loves me and will spoil me for my birthday because this is the second Valentine's Day in a row that he will be out of the country (aha, guilt-trip much?), I figured I'd compile a list of stuff that I covet, just to steer him in the right direction. (Plus I saw Dre's, and loved the idea.) However, since I am supremely broke these days, all I do is scour the sales sections (and even then, I can't afford most of that shit). Since I know the discounted pieces really well, all my clothing picks are from there. (Which, by the way, should thrill my boyfriend, who's only happy when he feels like he got a bargain. :) I love him!) The only thing that sucks is that since they are on sale, most of the stuff I loved when I first started looking has since sold out, and of the ones still up, hardly any have my size. But this is mostly to show him what I like, and to show him that deals do exist among the sites that I love to frequent. (And yes, I realize I'm using way too many parentheses.)

GO GREEN!
Ok, before we start with the clothes, I have to get these out of the way. I really, really, really want these. I will buy them if my boyfriend doesn't. So I hope he gets them and saves me the money. I'd love him forever. Promise, baby!
- Terrapass Cross Towner, $39.95 one year Link
Offsets the CO2 my car emits annually. I need this to assuage the guilt of being an environmentalist who won't part with her car.
- Terrapass Out of Towner, $49.95 one year. . Link
Offsets the CO2 his ugly gas guzzler emits annually. If he get this, I promise not to give him crap about his car for a year!

DRESSES
I'm all about dresses right now. The following sizes are acceptable, although the smaller the better: XS, S, P, 0, 1, or 2. If I specify a color, that means I like only that color. I need more casual ones I can wear in the daytime, but I can't help but adore the fancier ones, even though I never have a reason to wear them. Which only means Bernard needs to take me out to nicer places, haha. Anyway, they are in order from my absolute favorites down to ones I really like.
- Development Sleeveless with Contrast Belt $243.60 Link
- Karen Zambos Scarf Mini $300.30 Link
- KAROO Cashmere V-Neck $176 Link
- DVF Silk Satin Wrap $213 Link
How gorgeous is that dress?! Where the hell could I wear it to?!
- Milly Printed Silk $140 Link
- LaRok Multi Chain Halter Tunic $132 Link
- DVF Polka Dot Kamilia $254.90 Link
- Vince Cashmere Halter $199 Link
- Elie Tahari White Lace $199 Link
- LaRok Striped Rugby $89 Link
- DVF Alana Belted V-Neck $276.50 Link
- Susana Monaco Victoria Tank $110.40 Link
- LaRok Gothic Lace Bubble, shadow preferred $53.40 Link
- AKA New York Graphic Shirt, buckles/multi $109 Link
- BCBG Watermark Babydoll $109 Link
- Ya-Ya Strapless $101 Link
- Alice + Olivia Retro Tank $69 Link
- Robert Rodriguez Applique $135 Link
- Mint Floral Bubble $108 Link
- DVF Silk Chiffon Wrap $178.42 Link
NO-NOs: No long dresses; I'm too short. No "hey look at my boobs" dresses; I need coverage. No exceptions; don't even think about it.

TOPS,TEES, & TANKS
I'm focusing on the upper part of my body right now. Maybe it's because the bottom part of me is between sizes, thanks to this past year of my boyfriend's incredible cooking and European cuisine. Anyway, again, only sizes P, XS, S, 0, and 1 will work for tops. I have again placed them starting with the ones I adore the most.
- Rachel Roy Tux Cami, black $172.50 Link
I know, the price is ridiculous for just a tank. But it's sooooo cute!
- Alice + Olivia Sequined Tank $69.99 Link
- Robert Rodriguez Cashmere Bow Tube $? Link
- Robert Rodriguez Embellished Tank $59.99 Link
- M Missoni Cinched Halter $263 Link
- Generra Plunge Wrap $54.99 Link
- Ya-Ya Silk Camisole $149.99 Link
- Romeo & Juliet Striped Unicorn $34.99 Link
Man, how cool is this shirt?! Unicorns rule!
- Alice + Olivia Draped $69 Link
- LaRok Sparkle Trimmed Tank $61.99 Link
- LaRok Embellished Tank $34.99 Link
- Robert Rodriguez Jersey Halter $113.99 Link
- LaRok V-Neck Banded $59.99 Link
- Trovata Voile Cami $47 Link

ACCESSORIES
I really want some flats, but I know there's no way Bernard's going to buy me those. He wants me in heels and a push up bra. ::sigh:: Anyway, my shoe size is 6.5, or 36.5, or 7, or 37. But I'd be wary about the 7s unless they only come in whole numbers. Even then, I wouldn't buy if I couldn't return it. And I'm not a jewelry person, since every piece of jewelry I own inevitably gets either destroyed or lost. Except if I had an engagement ring. ::batting lashes:: The beauty products are the only stuff not on sale, but hey, they'll improve my appearance, which should motivate my baby. Because he thinks I'm fat and ugly. ::sniffle::
- Lancome Resurface-C Microdermabrasion Kit $85 Link
- BCBG Bronze Pleated Handbag $239.99 Link
Love the color and the shape of this thing.
- DDF Bio-Molecular Firming Eye Serum $82 Link
- Juicy Couture Quilted Leather Bowler <$350 Link
This is actually a pretty old style, but I love it. If it's out there somewhere, it has to be rather cheap.
- Ecoist Jumbo Wrapper Bag $118, in brown Link
The last one left! I need a new tote for school. Plus they plant a tree for every bag purchased!

DREAM
You know I had to have an "if only" section, right? If only to give my boyfriend good ideas for the future, teehee.
- Selva Bananito 5n, 6d Vacation $695 per person (not including airfare) Link
I have been wanting a tropical trip forever. I'm dying just thinking of this eco-friendly preserve, with activities like rafting, rappelling over waterfalls, hiking, tree climbing, and more, amidst the rain forests of Costa Rica. What more could you ask for?!
- Brilliant Earth Conflict Free Diamonds $510 - $104,760 Link
Hehehe. What?! All I'm saying is, support blood-free diamonds. That and I'm marriage material. Shut up, Dre.

ADVICE
Once again, this is a guide for my boyfriend. Some of the stuff on here is preposterously priced, even on sale, which is why my broke ass is writing about it instead of buying. Then again, there are some good deals...which my broke ass still can't afford. However, knowing Bernard, he's going to want to find his own stuff out of his principles of gift giving. Ok, fine. It doesn't make sense to me, because getting me something from this list would guarantee me going, "OMG! THANK YOU!" instead of, "Oh...this is nice. What's the refund policy?" But hey, if he wants to try to pick his own items, all I ask is this: please, please, please verify with either Trang, Andrea, or Philton (who will ask Jade's opinion). Hell, he should double check it with at least two of them. I've also included a list of acceptable websites at which to shop. And geez, he works ten minutes away from South Coast Plaza, and we all know that mall is full of goodies!

SITES
From best to decent.
http://www.shopbop.com
http://www.girlshop.com
http://www.revolveclothing.com
http://www.ronherman.com
http://www.neimanmarcus.com (contemporary section)
http://www.saksfifthavenue.com (contemporary section)
http://www.bergdorfgoodman.com (5f section)
http://www.shopintuition.com
http://www.bluefly.com

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Not Insomnia... [Thursday,
January 11th, 2007]
[ mood | awake ]

I'm officially jetlagged. I thought I was good because last night I was sleepy at a decent hour (2am) and went to bed at a semi-decent hour (4am). Unfortunately, I picked up one of my Christmas presents, and got engrossed in The Smoke Jumper by Nicholas Evans, which kept me up even though I was exhausted. But now it's day 2 of my return, and I'm wide awake and starving at 5:15am. So I'm going to type about my trip to Europe, and these will be freaky, funny facts that should get me falling asleep sometime soon. I will warn anyone reading that I intend on broaching upon some pretty disgusting stuff, so yeah. That's why it's on Livejournal and not Myspace, folks.

~ I had incredible amounts of gas in Europe, to the point where my body would wake itself up in the middle of the night purely for release. It must've been the cheese. And the part that drove me crazy was that 80% of the time that I thought I had to take a dump, it was just gas. I mean most of the time when that happens, I'm pleased, because I don't have to deal with a messy rear when I get up from the toilet. But imagine being fooled 80% of the time?! Especially when, since it happened so often, you'd think that I could start to tell the difference, but no. One time I swear I had a tiny piece of dookie just waiting to come out. It was so convincing that I was actually farting around the piece of shit. But no, when I shifted positions, suddenly a spurt of air came out and I was emptied. WTH! And what makes it so much worse is that as much as I wanted, and probably needed, to just let it rip sometimes, I never could, because I'm dating Mr. Prim and Proper when it comes to that kind of stuff. So even at 6am when he was fast asleep, I still had to stifle the vents for fear of waking him up with a roaring monster of a fart.

Setting: Switzerland, after a long, tiring road trip.
Bernard: (farts audibly) Ahem.
Me: Ugh! That's so unfair!
Bernard: What?
Me: If I did that, you'd be freaking out. And yet every once in a while, you get to slip one out!
Bernard: Well, I try my best not to! Do you know how many I've had to hold in for the past eight hours in the car?!

~ The morning we left for France, Bernard and I had really rough sex. When that happens, it's not atypical for me to be a little swollen, and even torn and sore. I'll feel it perhaps even the next day, and then I'm healed up after that. Not this time. This time, that little vaginal tear got bigger instead of diminishing. Not only that, but it burned like mad every time I peed. Not the tear, but inside my actual urinary tract. I've had plenty of UTIs before, but this felt different. Not only that, but the swelling increased, too. It went from the vaginal hole and extended over to my asshole. I shit you not. It was terrifying. I was miserable. It finally happened. My whore of a boyfriend gave me an STD. The following is a sample of the banter that continued for almost two weeks, which is how long it took for everything down there to finally get back to normal.

Setting: Switzerland, our room in the cabin.
Me: Have you cheated on me?!
Bernard: No!
Me: You liar! You dirty whore! You've infected me!
Bernard: I have no symptoms!
Me: Most men don't know they have anything until the women get something!
Bernard: Is that true? That can't be true.
Me: Did you cheat on me?! You better tell me now, 'cause if I find out later, after I've been diagnosed with herpes and hpv, I will kill you.
Bernard: No, baby. What's hpv?
Me: Genital warts. As if you didn't know, whore!
Bernard: You're the one with the disease.
Me: You're the carrier! Did you cheat on me?!
Bernard: NO!!!

~ After I was 99% healed up (I could still feel slightly where the original tear was, although it stopped hurting), we had one small window of opportunity to get laid. Unfortunately, we fell asleep that night. The next day, I got my period. A few days after that, I went home and he went to Spain. So now it's been a little over two weeks since I've gotten laid, and I was with my boyfriend 24-7 for the past three weeks. How sad is that?!

Setting: Belgium, our room in his parents' house.
Me: I haven't gotten laid for like ten days! What kind of boyfriend are you?!
Bernard: That's because your pussy hasn't been functional that whole time!
Me: So? I was all better last night and you didn't touch me!
Bernard: How was I supposed to know it was going to start gushing blood?! I'll still go down on you though. Do you want me to go down on you? (lunges for my pants)
Me: No! Stop it!
Bernard: Well, we can always have anal.
Me: Ugh.
Bernard: Baby...my love...anal?
Me: Ugh!

~ His first younger brother is an active whore, and at one point last year the guy had a rotation of like eight girls whom he would call up depending on his mood. (Which, by the way, when Bernard told me, I got all sad and asked him, "Do you ever want that?" And Mr. Perfect replies, "No. I'd rather be with only you than have eight random girls around." Teehee. Then again, one could bring up the fact that Bernard has whored around enough for several lifetimes, so there you go. Still, it's scary to think that his level of whoring is almost prudish when it comes to his younger brother.) Needless to say, Gregory is pretty damn good looking, an opinion that I had refuted on my first trip because I thought he was snobby and mean in comparison to the rest of the family. Personality makes a huge impact on my assessment of attraction. But this time he was really nice, and now I have to admit that the guy is a hottie. Anyway, he had met some worker at the spa in Gstaad, and did her on our last night in Switzerland. I thought it was so unfair that he got laid and I didn't. ::pout::

Setting: Switzerland, our room in the cabin.
Me: What! For real? He's doing some chick? Is she hot?
Bernard: No.
Me: Ewwwl! Would you do her?
Bernard: Mmm...probably not. I don't know.
Me: Yeah, you would. You so would!
Bernard: No, I don't think so.
Me: Whatever! I've seen some of the ones you've fucked.
Bernard: (getting defensive) What? They're all cute!
Me: Not really! I'm so glad you don't have pictures of all of them, 'cause I think I'd be horrified at your selection!

Ok, that's all I've got. I'm still awake. I'm so screwed. Oh well. I guess I gotta get screwed one way or another.

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Salutations! [Thursday,
December 28th, 2006]
[ mood | cold ]

originally on Myspace

"Not gonna get you a diamond ring
That sort of gift don't mean anything
Not gonna get you a fancy car
Girl ya gotta know you're my shining star
Not gonna get you a house in the hills
A girl like you needs somethin' real
Wanna get you somethin' from the heart
Somethin' special girl
It's my dick in a box, my dick in a box babe
It's my dick in a box, my dick in a box girl"

Ok I wanted to write a quick blog and be done by 2:30am, but it's now 2:46am and I had promised my boyfriend I'd be in bed over an hour and a half ago. But he's fast asleep, so HA! And it's not my fault I got caught up reading about Dre's life in her online journal. The bitch has gone and got herself a better job without even consulting me! Hmmph. >=(

Anyway, hope every one had a merry winter holiday, and will be having a fun and safe new year! All I have been doing is sleeping and binging nonstop on delicious European food. Bernard keeps grabbing my huge stomach and groaning. But dude. The food here is just indescribably mouthwatering. Except for breakfast. Only because a) I'm not used to having it and b) it consists of 90% chocolate! WTH! French and Belgians love having something sweet to start their day. I think they are the only cultures that do this. Bernard spreads chocolate Nutella on his chocolate bread, then dips it in hot chocolate. BLEH!

I'm on my way to Switzerland tomorrow, for a week of snowboarding and celebrations. I probably won't be able to access a computer until I get back. So for those of you who are basking in the California sunshine, or are perhaps complaining that it is getting far too cold, I beg you to visit Europe in the winter. My face, the only part that doesn't get covered when I leave the house, gets NUMB. It actually starts tingling.

Things I've covered on this trip:

-Bruges (Belgian city known as the "Venice of the North" for its quaint canals)
-The Belgian Caves (don't know the proper name for it, but it wqs AMAZiNG)
-Versailles (French castle/ridiculously decadent home of Louis XIV-XVI)
-Paris Sex District (forgot the name too..saw the Moulin Rouge!)
-Champs Elysee and Eiffel Tower light display (stayed in the car...too cold!)
-The Salton Sea (saw it for the first time just a few hours ago...I LOVED it!!)

Ok my toes are freezing over so I should get under the covers now. I'm so sad no one is online right now to talk to. Where ARE you people?

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A Timeline of Terrible Events [Wednesday,
December 20th, 2006]
[ mood | pissed off ]

originally on Myspace

The sad thing is, I know I have no time for this, but I'm going to sit here and write about it anyway. I am too far gone in disbelief at what I had to go through with this internet company. Bernard, you are TOO nice, and the reason I had to endure this all was because of YOU, so shut it!

Mid-November: I suggested to Bernard to get his siblings iPods for Christmas, since Apple was having a pretty sweet refurbished Nano sale ($99 for 2gb, $149 for 4gb, etc.). He considered it, but wanted to do more research.
Wednesday, 11-22: Bernard mentioned he'd wait for Black Friday to see if any good deals exist for the Nanos, since he had decided to get them.
Friday, 11-24: No good Black Friday deals, and he was looking online when I said six words that will haunt me for a long, long time. "Hey, why don't you Froogle it?" He did, and found the one website that has made this entire week an absolute misery (on top of finals and preparing to leave for Europe), and it was www.caliwild.com.
Click on it. Go ahead. Get a visual on what I'm talking about. It's some sort of lingerie site. And, randomly, it sells brand new iPod Nanos for $145 shipped, 2nd link on the left. (Which, by the way, if you click on that, now has a big ol' notice about how stupidly they handled the situation. And complains about how people are abusing them for their poor work ethics. Boohoo. I will find these other people, and we will unite. Then we will make butterscotch popcorn and gab about small businesses that suck at operating.) WHY did Bernard finally choose to buy them from this site? Well, the price is $70 cheaper than retail, considering tax. Also, the company's headquarters are located in LA, and they state that pick-up is a possibility. So, being reassured that they were right around the corner if they wanted to rip us off and take the money, he made the plunge. We received automated emails thanking us for our purchase and saying they had been shipped.
Saturday, 11-25: To see if they had the new red Nanos, Bernard called someone from the company, who gushed about how she went to a trade show and found all these Nanos for super cheap, and was passing on the savings to consumers everywhere! Hip hip hooray!
Thursday, 12-7: Bernard, worried about the slow shipping, called and received an apology for the delay. They informed him that they would be shipping it out with a free case. Yay! All smiles!
Friday, 12-8: We received an email stating, "Just letting you know that your new IPOD NANO 4GB will be there anytime now via DHL Air. We have Included a FREE BELKIN FOLIO CASE as a Gift to you as we have been inundated with orders and are shipping AIR to get them delivered as fast as we can due to the Holiday rush and numerous order demand at our prices." Ok. Whatever.
Saturday, 12-9: Bernard had to leave for Europe, emptyhanded. Now it was my responsibility to take them across the Atlantic when they arrived.
Thursday, 12-14: I email, "I'm wondering if you could tell me specifically what's going on with my order? I bought two Nanos a few weeks ago, and they still haven't arrived. Please let me know! I leave for Europe next week and I need to have them as presents, and I'm trying not to get too anxious here!"
They reply, "We initially state 7-10 Business Days however, We are swamped for Christmas. If it isn't there DHL by tomorrow I will Overnight a replacement and then just please refuse the initial when that arrives. We never expected this many orders for Christmas and are understaffed." By this time, I had a feeling they were full of shit. Who does that? Who would ship out another set of two Nanos just if the other two hadn't arrived yet?
Bernard, however, was still vigorously defending them. "Baby, I'm sure they mailed it, they're just too busy to keep track of when that stuff arrives." Yeah. Right.
Friday, 12-15: "Good Morning Kim, We will email your DHL AIR tracking information this by this afternoon. Thank You for your business and for your patience during this hectic season."
I reply, "If there's a chance that it won't be here by Wednesday afternoon, I can go pick it up from you guys too. I wouldn't WANT to, but it's more vital that I get it by Wednesday since I will be out of the country Thursday. Please let me know what you feel is best."
They reply, "Hi Kim! They will be there by Wed no problem via DHL AIR..."
Saturday 12-16: "I still haven't received the tracking number for the shipment. Can I get it so I can make sure to be home when they arrive? You spoke with my boyfriend Bernard over the phone when he ordered these weeks ago, and now he's in Europe driving me NUTS because he's starting to get really worried that they won't get to me in time. Please, for the sake of my sanity, give me some proof of shipment!" This was true, by the way. I was getting really annoyed with Bernard, who'd call me every day whining about his Nanos.
Their response? "Excuse me...We replied yesterday stating you will receive your shipment AIR DHL BY Wed...We are a well known company and also have Integrity..Would you like an immediate refund? We have hundreds of orders and have to ship AIR next day to get EVERYONE'S ORDERS OUT not just yours" OHHHHH boy. Are you fucking kidding me?! Wow, just reading that again gets my blood boiling. I wanted to tell them off SO badly, but I couldn't, for the sake of Bernard, who needed those Nanos. Now if it were up to me, I'd say fuck the savings, I'd rather keep my dignity intact than be treated like that. But I had to grit my teeth and bear it, since it wasn't for me and we had waited this long anyway.
Still, I couldn't resist writing back, albeit way more politely than my pride wanted to allow. "Wow...up until this point you guys have been nothing but accomodating when it comes to customer service. So that last email was pretty shocking considering how rude it was. I'm going to assume your nerves are really frayed from the stress of the holiday season. Relax! Take a few deep breaths and massage your temples or something. Considering we paid you three weeks ago, and have received numerous emails saying that our Nanos have shipped and yet still received nothing, you can't really blame us for being concerned. My request is a reasonable one, especially since you said yourself I would have a tracking number by Friday afternoon. Not that I have to explain myself, but I live in a complex that's difficult to get in to, and if I'm not home the DHL deliverer will probably go away and take the Nanos with him. I NEED to be home when the package comes, so the best way to approximate delivery time is with a tracking number. And, like I mentioned in my email, my boyfriend is driving me crazy over these stupid things. You've made us wait until the last possible moment to receive these, and now you're angry that I want a tracking number...when you were supposed to give it to me anyway? How does that make any sense?"
They replied within minutes. "You emailed us yesterday and said you needed it BY Wed and we replied back IMMEDIATELY and we stated you will have it via DHL AIR...Yes it is last minute however we are shipping AIR Next Day so everyone will have their orders as we didn't expect this many CHRISTMAS orders and we are small staffed. Would you like an Immediate refund? I will initiate that no problem...We have MANY customers and since it is CHRISTMAS we are behind and shipping AIR as opposed to Ground...We're not rude here.........We are busy."
By this time I was no longer angry. My anger had dissipated into utter frustration. These people were idiots! "Well, thank you for your fast replies, but I still have no idea what day it's coming, and run the risk of not being at home when it does. I live 30 min from you guys, how the heck does DHL Air apply to me? I even offered to go pick them up in order to prevent this from happening. I just need to BE HOME when they get here, and for that to happen I need to know WHAT DAY they are coming. That's the ONLY REASON I asked for a tracking number, and you guys are acting like I'm accusing you of stealing my money. Good GOD, PLEASE help me! All I want is to be able to be home when they get here! Please, I don't know what you want from me. I'm sorry for calling you rude, I'm sorry for bombarding your small staff with emails, just PLEASE HELP ME OUT!!"
They responded with, "I am not going to debate how DHL works..We have customers 10 minutes from here who didn't want to pick it up and asked for shipping so it has to go AIR even though it is close by...As I told you Kim...and I have the email..It will be there Tues-Wed at the latest AIR...unless you want to come and get them Monday..We state 7-10 BUSINESS DAYS and we are a few days over that not much more and considering it is Christmas time, we are human beings packaging 300+ order with a staff of 4 PLUS the other sales we have from our other businesses. I cannot go back and forth like this-we are extremely AS YOU KNOW late. DHL is going out Monday and when it LEAVES, I will THEN have a T# OR you can come and get them." OHHHH. Ok. So the fucking truth comes out. Despite all those emails reassuring me that the order had shipped, that I would soon get a tracking number, suddenly it's not until MONDAY that they are shipping! WTF!! Still, dumbass that I am, I should've just driven down to get them. Instead, I believed them when they said that I would get it in time. Silly me!
Wednesday, 12-20: Yeah. NOW. Nothing. I was actually pretty crushed. I really didn't think they'd screw us over so royally. Who does that?! "Man, I really did believe you guys. For almost a MONTH you have been leading me on. You got pissed when I asked for a tracking number. You shouted about your company's "integrity." You promised it would be here by Wednesday. Welp, tomorrow I leave for Europe. Why am I not surprised that you're not answering or returning phone calls? I can't even ATTEMPT to pick it up tonight because you disappeared! How can you treat your customers so poorly?! Go ahead and process that "immediate refund," since you probably were planning on doing that anyway. I bet you never had the Nanos in the first place. Why not, right? You lied every other time, when you kept saying 'We shipped it! It'll be there tomorrow! Oh, it's a week later, but we'll give you a tracking number! It'll be there before you leave to Europe! We're a good company!'"
They responded quickly, again. I gotta at least hand it to them for timely communication. "We are in fact a good and VERIFIABLE COMPANY we are however HUMAN.. We wil Immediately refund you..May I have the Order #"
So I gave them the order number, and I got my money back. I wasn't worried about that, to be honest. I just couldn't believe they'd stoop that low to string a customer along for four weeks, and then not even apologize for it. Great business ethics, that one.
And then, get this. This is hilarious. I get another email from them, entitled PS. "I strongly suggest you not slnder my company. If you do, you can deal with our Corporate Attorneys: J. LEVINSON & ASSOC Verifiable through the California State Bar..www.castatebar.org We do indeed have the stock HOWEVER, we did not expect a rush like this. Do not slander my company again.. All last minute orders are sitting here for SDHL Overnight..Your being refunded" Then I get ANOTHER email, entitled PS TYPO. Same exact thing, except the word "slander" had been spelled correctly. Sadly, the wrong form of "your" was still there.
So you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to write back and tell them the difference between slander and libel, and how neither of them apply AT ALL to what I wrote. Then maybe I'll feel kind enough to give them a brief grammar lesson, although I doubt I have the time. Then I'll send them a link to this very blog, so they can see my words actually in PRINT, for PUBLIC VIEW, and how defamation STILL DOES NOT APPLY because everything I wrote in here is TRUE!!!! And that part that they got all huffy over, the part about how I bet they don't even HAVE the Nanos, is clearly just my opinion, and if they were so brilliant, why the hell could they find all that time to write all those emails, and yet no time or staff to jot down an address label on an envelope and MAIL THE FUCKERS OUT?!!

AND NOW, I will head to the Apple store in Manhattan Beach, where I will furiously pick out two Nanos for my boyfriend, who better have a delicious European sandwich in his hand when he gets me from the airport!!

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Shitey Essays [Friday,
December 15th, 2006]
[ mood | listless ]

"What have we become America?
Soldiers on the Great Frontier!

Run from yourself,
from your friends, from ya--
Run for your life,
for your friends, for ya--
American, merica, meri--
Oh Illinois, Illinois, Illi-- "

I'm just posting a couple essays really quickly, then I must get back to my finals stuff. I was supposed to go watch a play tonight in SD, but they sold out, which means I'll probably have miss work and go Sunday afternoon. Ugh. The only reason I have to go is because I have to write an essay on it for a class.

This one was written a couple of nights ago. I believe I started at around 7pm and finished at 4am. Is it an incredibly compelling, thoroughly in-depth analysis of an ancient literary work? No. Is it a ten page term paper, filled with copious amounts of research and ramblings? No. Actually, it's a pretty crappy essay overall. So what the heck took me so long? Youtube. I'd write a couple of sentences, and then go on a Youtube SNL skit rampage. Write a couple more, then search for when Lindsay Lohan hosted (Debbie Downer, haha), or Drew Barrymore (the "luvah" hot tub skit). Curse the internet! Curse my weak willpower!

All Hail the Vile Visionaries!

In Alexander the Quack Prophet, Lucian's chronicle of Alexander's life as a self-proclaimed soothsayer of divinity during the Roman Empire is both absorbing and alarming. While some of the more disquieting parts are quickly attested by historians to be the exaggerations of a “master narrative at work,” what might be most disturbing is how plausible those events are in this day and age (Lucian 268). Reading Lucian’s account of Alexander produces startling parallels to modern society’s horrors of Jim Jones and his People’s Temple. When a charismatic and commanding individual chooses to control people over profoundly personal areas such as religion and faith, at first the results can be satisfying for both the deceiver and the believers. However, once a swindler is in possession of such power, oftentimes the heady influence is too tantalizing not to utilize, leaving a devastating trail of misuse and manipulation.

Alexander began his profession as a spiritual huckster innocuously enough, by realizing that “what both the fearful and hopeful needed and wanted the most was knowledge of the future” and seeking to capitalize on it (Lucian 272). Using fanfare, faking spasms of madness, and implementing elaborate hoaxes, Alexander established himself as the new and true oracle, the messenger of a fearsome god, situated for the masses to enjoy and be enlightened. Even the skeptical author acknowledged that one “can’t be too hard on those poor people…for being taken in” (Lucian 277). After all, those who wish to be fulfilled in their ignorance by holy schemes end up just as content as the unscrupulous ones who profit from it.

The career of James Warren “Jim” Jones started just as harmlessly, even honorably, by establishing the People’s Temple in Indianapolis, Indiana during the 1950s. It was structured as an interracial community, almost unheard of at the time, destined to help the lowliest of society’s members. Preaching to a mixed congregation, his quest for racial equality gained awareness and adulation. In 1965, Jones and eighty followers moved to Redwood Valley, California, where he predicted they would be safest when the inevitable nuclear war would occur and destroy most of the world. He also started claiming to be the reincarnation of Jesus and performed supposed miracles to attract new members, all the while acquiring more praise for opening and operating care centers for the elderly and mentally challenged youth.

If left at these particular outcomes, both Alexander and Jim Jones could not possibly be criticized harshly, if at all. Although the ancient augur was exploiting the susceptibility of the people, those who fell victim to his antics “raised a cry to heaven, welcomed the god, congratulated the city, and…began praying their hearts out” (Lucian 276). Alexander, albeit crooked and false, raised hope and happiness in such hearts, and made those who could afford his prophecies feel directly blessed by the gods. Reverend Jim Jones, despite his delusions of grandeur and an imminent apocalypse, managed to uphold righteous values and establish many admirable institutions to aid needy citizens. Unfortunately, being elevated to such positions of power, both men quickly demoralized their authority in detrimental ways.

Alexander set his sights on subjugating Rutilianus, one of “the most influential and important personages in the city” (Lucian 283). With the support of this significant man, Alexander was hailed as a divine oracle, and brazenly delved into a life of “ruining young women and sleeping with young boys” (Lucian 288). Those who dared to dissent or express disbelief were subject to spiteful prophecies and potential bodily harm, as one man was “barely saved from being stoned to death” (Lucian 290). Lucian himself was nearly murdered after displaying his contempt in an encounter with the man. Alexander even had the gall to send a instructions in a prophecy for the war in Germany, one that accounted for “the destruction en masse of close to twenty thousand men” (Lucian 291).

As for Jones, he also traveled down a ruinous path after achieving astonishing sway over his supporters. Those who left the group spoke Jones as a man who practiced sodomy, stole from his followers, severely punished members, and prepared them for mass suicide with practice drills. Amidst scrutiny by the IRS and journalists, Jones decided to move the People’s Temple to Guyana, creating a refuge for his people called Jonestown. Nearly one thousand members left for Jonestown in 1977. The horrifying conclusion occurred November 18, 1978, when a Congressman was departing after an investigation and attempted to take several members who wanted to leave with him. The Senator and four others were gunned down and killed by Jonestown residents who had followed them. Back at the settlement, Jones declared that the time for mass suicide was at hand. 909 people died, including Jim Jones, either by willingly drinking poison, by being injected with it, or by being shot. One third of the dead were children.

Thus, individuals who take advantage of vulnerable devotees can at first seem to do little harm to those preyed upon, and their actions may even be cast in a positive light. People who are spiritually swindled still reap enough fulfillment from their beliefs to offset the monetary or liberty loss sustained, or else they would not be so easily duped. But all too frequently, the rush from dominating the disciples grows into brutal mishandling of great power. At this point, the person in charge can cause devastating damage to both individuals and to the fabric of the society in which it takes place. For this reason alone, one should wish that the Alexanders and Jim Joneses of the future will be regarded with as much skepticism and repugnance as Lucian holds towards his quack prophet.


And if you're actually read it, and it piqued your interest on Jonestown, a documentary came out this year on it with high critical acclaim. Want to watch it with me? It should be out on DVD soon. Holla! This next essay is the one I knocked out in two hours the next morning, so it is definitely crap. But that's ok, because seriously, the teacher doesn't ask for much.

The Current Dionysian Culture

Deliberating the relevance of Pagan culture in contemporary times seems an almost nonsensical task considering that many Dionysian concepts are already deeply entrenched in the modern way of life. The notorious symbolisms and representations of Dionysus, ranging from the reverence of wine to the open sexual orgies, still hold a captive audience and many pursuers. But the ideas and values of Dionysus that are not so easily recognized, startling concepts that can only be found upon closer inspection of the nature of this significant and intriguing deity, are the ones that stay even more relevant to current society.

Dionysus embodies dissolution of all boundaries, a force that revels in intoxication and orgiastic pleasures despite the constraints of society. Such an outlook is still fascinating in today’s world, if only to be used as a warning lesson for those who wish to follow in his path. The application now is how those who seek the same routine of unrestrained gratification will end up damaging themselves. His existence of excess serve to remind us mortals that such a lifestyle as his is only befitting for the gods.

Readers of The Bacchae by Euripedes will find the depiction of a chillingly callous Dionysus, fueled by revenge and manipulating events so that his cousin Pentheus has his head torn off by his own mother. Even then, the motives and themes in the tale stay valid. It is the injustice done to his mother Semele, and his need to be worshipped as the god he is, that causes Dionysus to go on such a destructive rampage. Mothers are still held in high esteem, and those who hurt others in vengeance for their mothers’ sakes are often cast in a more sympathetic light. As for his requirement to be respected, the notion is substantial to all individuals, since admiration from our peers, when it is deserved, validates us as human beings.

Also important is the indistinct gender of Dionysus. An effeminate man, Dionysus could be considered as beautiful as any of the Maenads, which were his female worshippers. According to the myths, even though he eventually married Ariadne and fathered a few children, he also loved dearly Ampelos, an exquisite male youth. The ancients adored all aspects of Dionysus, including this one, although in today’s mores it would be deemed appalling and unpardonable. Perhaps if the perceptions from these portrayals of Dionysus as having a hazy masculinity and being bisexual were more highly regarded today, we would have more love and fewer attempts at dictating sexual preference, as well as be more tolerant to humanity as a whole.

When it comes to a more spiritual subject, one might be surprised to find that Dionysus symbolizes the theme of rebirth and renewal. After all, he was “twice-born,” having been extracted from his mother’s body upon her death and sewn into the thigh of his father, Zeus. In some myths, Dionysus dies each winter and is reborn in the spring. This cyclical revival is prevalent in many religions, from the resurrection of Jesus Christ in Christianity, to the reincarnation of the soul believed by Hindus. The idea of having a second chance is a constant fixation for even those who do not feel the opportunity arises after death.

Likely the most essential of the Dionysian concepts, especially in current events, is the deity’s ultimate celebration of nature. Dionysus lives and breathes nature, from relishing wine from the vine, dwelling in the outskirts of towns among the wilderness, to frolicking with leopard and panthers. In a time such as ours when the Greenhouse Effect is no longer a far-off theory supported by tree huggers, when countless species (and soon glaciers) are going extinct, the Dionysian thinking of venerating nature could be rather handy for the human race. Embracing the environment and respecting the natural world is a Dionysian belief that is necessary, if not crucial, to our continued existence.

Thus, Pagan culture, specifically the Dionysian culture, remains truly relevant in this day and age. Just approaching a handful of the extended concepts that construct Dionysus are enough to substantiate the significance to current society. People encounter and struggle with Pagan views every day without even acknowledging it. Through the potential glut of solely pursuing pleasure, seeking revenge for loved ones, craving respect from others, exhibiting an ambiguous sex, loving without gender bias, the notions of rebirth and renewal, and the absolute adoration of nature, Dionysian concepts subsist. They have persisted this far, and will undoubtedly be ingrained into the way of life of generations to come.

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Gift Giving [Tuesday,
November 21st, 2006]
[ mood | sleepy ]

"I wonder who you're loving now
I'm guessing we won't work things out

You know what they say
You can't have it so you want it back
I'm way past that
Believe me
If you could be in my life
Like you've been on my mind
It'd be so easy"

I love this song. I love her voice. I'm too lazy to put a link, but check her out at www.myspace.com/schuylerfisk. My favorite one is Paperweight, which was on soundtrack for The Last Kiss. Moving on...

I just found out last week that Bernard is the kind of person who would get butt-hurt if I exchanged a Christmas gift. For real?! I was a bit incredulous over that. Ok, I can understand being slightly crestfallen when you give someone something that you think they'll really like, only to have them want to return it. But an exchange? For a similar product? Seriously? Because I'd be more like, "Damnit! I couldn't decide between that or this, but at least now I know for next time what you prefer."

But Bernard is adamantly opposed to it. "A gift is a gift. Someone took the time to find that for you. I don't think anyone in my family has ever returned anything!"

I responded with, "Ok, but an exchange is different! What if you give me something that I truly can't or won't ever use? You'd rather me be stuck with something useless than to just switch it out for something else?"

"Too bad. Get used to it. Eventually you'd like it."

Whaaaa?? The moment I heard that, I made a quick decision. Now what I'm really craving from my boyfriend for Christmas is some cute clothing, or accessories. But after hearing that, I changed my mind pronto. When it comes down to it, I guess I don't have enough faith in the guy to pick out something I'll like. Especially now that I know I'm going to have to be stuck with it! And besides, I know my man, and there's no way in hell he'd ever get me what I prefer anyway. He'd have a heart attack before he'd spend that much on a Lauren Merkin clutch, or Alice and Olivia pants, or a Vince cashmere sweater. Paying high prices for clothes is a huge rip-off to him, yet he'd willingly shell out big bucks for a stupid phone. (Ok, I adore my phone. But before he gave it to me, I was perfectly fine with my beat up Nokia from 1999!)

Anyway, knowing my boyfriend so well and assuming that he was more likely than not struggling with a gift for me, I suggested he just get me a gym membership. I could tell the idea appealed to him, even though he half-heartedly attempted to naysay it with, "Well, that's not very romantic...'Here baby, get your fatass to the gym'...you'd be ok with that?" Sure, why not? After all, since he'd be paying the bill, it'd motivate me to go or else I'd feel pretty guilty. I'd get more toned, and he'd get a more toned girlfriend, which is something he's been hounding me about since we started dating. Sounds like a good deal to me, especially since I need to start up a more healthy lifestyle.

As for the presents I'm giving him, I fucking rule. He is going to love what I got him. I keep gushing about it, and he always downplays it by saying, "Well, it's just that I'm not picky, nor do I expect or really want anything, so of course I'll love whatever you give me." But I swear that even if he wasn't like that, he'd love what I got him. I'm so excited!

One last tangent: I'm a little sad that I'm missing Christmas in California for the second year in a row. I went with Scott to see Minus the Bear last week, and we drove down Rodeo Dr. and it was all lit up and holiday-like, and I had this rush of nostalgia and longing for busy streets and flashing lights. Instead, I'll get sub-zero weather, cobble-stone roads, and French speaking Europeans. But I'll be with my baby, so that's ok.

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The Fart of Love [Tuesday,
November 7th, 2006]
[ mood | grumpy ]

"Oh boy, see I'm trusting you with my heart, my soul
I probably shouldn't let you know

If I...if I let this go
You can't tell nobody
I'm talkin' bout nobody"

I hate writing essays. I absolutely loathe it. I spent so long on this freaking thing, and now that I am finally done, I’m not even happy about it. I’m super pissed off that I had to waste so much time on this piece of crap. Not even knowing that I’ll get an A on it makes me happy. (And I will get an A. Not because I’m such a magnificent writer, but because the standards aren’t that high. He’s just anal about grammar and punctuation, and I reign in that field. Unless I’m tired and bitchy. But I think that only shows towards the end of this essay, because I could tell it was getting all divergent and I was too irritated to care.) ARGH! I actually used to enjoy writing essays, because I am pretty good at them, but now they're like bullshite tests that goad me and remind me how bad I am at concentrating and being motivated. "Hey Kim...you gonna work on me? What, one paragraph? That's all you got? Stop watching The Office and come do me! Yeah, I knew you didn't have it in you. I knew you'd think working on me for an hour was justification for watching three episodes of Heroes. You make me sick."

Anyway, I'm posting it here for me. Because I have written some damn good essays throughout my school years, and I have nothing to remember them by since every single computer of mine has failed or disappeared on me (and I don't back up). I wish I had done this sooner. I wrote a really good one on Black No More years ago. I hated that one too.

In Ovid's witty and wily manual The Art of Love, the pursuit and plucking of a paramour is an enterprise not to be taken lightly. Rather, strict standards and crafty counsel are inscribed to be heeded and implemented for ensnaring the ideal soulmate. Most of Ovid's instructions linger on an extremely shallow side of romance, and the sexual misogyny of antiquated Roman civilization runs rampant in this work. However, more often than expected, Ovid's fervent and almost farcical suggestions are thrust upon the reader with a resounding ring of realism. The art of love, then, is one that retains both its modus operandi and its magnetism, so that even a reference book written over two thousand years ago in a completely different culture preserves rivetingly relevant material.
"My poem will deal in truth," vows Ovid, an almost severe statement for a blithe bard who obviously revels in dispensing his love teachings (167). Despite the comical tone and lighthearted subject matter of the piece, Ovid makes it clear that his words are substantial, that his advice is necessary. “Try me - read my book, and results are guaranteed!” he proclaims (166). If this is truly the case, and the contemporary reader is to form impressions of 'cruising and catching' in pagan Roman culture from Ovid's text, then the methods to acquire love seem strikingly superficial, and the game itself is offensive in its carnality towards women.
For men, the art of adoration is a frivolous romp, equivalent to a hunt for pleasure in which the hapless prey must be pegged, pursued, ravished, and retained. Ovid encourages fellow men by reminding them that "even bulls can be broken to plough" (166). He emphasizes that "every girl can be caught," but warns men to "go easy with lion or tigers if you aim to tame them" (174, 196). Such direct analogies to hunting are numerous throughout the two books for male readers, and serve as alarming comparisons that reduce women to being mere conquests.
For the ladies, the art of amour is simply a hardcore beauty regiment, one they must engage in to upkeep their appearance at all times. After all, "a woman's charms will vanish away," according to Ovid, and “flesh goes slack and wrinkled, the clear complexion is lost” (216). Not once does the poet ever mention cultivating a personality, instead filling the text with "tips for restoring faded beauty" (220). The portion written expressly for women lacks as much depth of intellect as the lady who must focus solely on her looks in order to participate in the game and lure a mate.
Ovid’s sexual brazenness should render a modern day reader speechless in stunned amusement, if not seething in spasmodic rage. He advocates adultery, offering adages such as, “The harvest’s always richer in another man’s fields” (176). After all, a man should never be expected to be held “(God forbid!) to one girl alone,” to “that degree of devotion” (202). For the ladies who must please their lovers but have less than perfect bodies from childbirth: “Offer a rear engagement, Parthian style” (238). For the women who cannot climax: “Moan as though you were coming, put on an act” (238)! He even goes so far as to preach to men that “it’s all right to use force” since “the audacity of near-rape is a compliment” to the ladies (187). Ovid actually insists that a woman who does not get forcefully fulfilled “feels sadly let down” (187). Every single one of these tidbits are devised with solely the man’s enjoyment in mind, without any consideration for women.
Still, one must surely marvel when finding how accordant some of the classical poet's advice is in this day and age. Ovid’s suggestions can be practical and pertinent even now, such as how “night and drink can impair your eye for beauty,” so one must always determine “a face or a figure, by day” (173). Countless jokes are made in present culture about waking up in horror to find the alluring lover from the night before turned into roadkill by sunlight. Ovid touts that one of the best times for a man to win over his object of affection is "when she's been miffed by a rival. Make it your job to ensure she gets revenge" (177). These days, it goes both ways, with both men and women being more vulnerable when 'on the rebound' and seeking comfort. The poet cautions men against "gold-digging tarts" who will consume without cease, and women against "smart young beaux" who will dismiss a mistress in a heartbeat (179). These types of people are to this day considered bad news for any person seeking a significant other. Ovid's wisest and weightiest words are aimed to the men: "to be loved, you must show yourself lovable - something good looks alone can never achieve. Build an enduring mind, add that to your beauty" (194).
Of course, with all hits, misses must exist, and Ovid has plenty of rules that seem absurd when dealing with contemporary love. Swearing to men that "a male proposition is something [women] all enjoy," Ovid says to keep kissing an unresponsive woman since "she wants to be overcome" (176, 186). Today, that push for persistence would undoubtedly multiply the number of restraining orders against unrelenting Lotharios. He tells men, "Look lean and haggard as a proof of your passion," for love has to "reduce young men to a thin nothing" (189). This tactic of intentionally appearing wasted over infatuation is both unnecessary and unhealthy (and rather melodramatic). If a cheater should ever be caught, he should “make love to the girl while she’s crying - that’s the only way to melt her angry mood” (205). The chances of sex being the immediate solution in this situation is ludicrous. He advises both men and women that "it's best to know nothing, let guilty secrets be hidden," thus promoting a lifestyle of lies, deception, and adultery.
Ovid’s pleas for women who “choose to cuckold their man” to “at least cuckold him with a man,” referencing to the myth of Pasiphae and her sexual desires for a bull, seem preposterous now (175). His warning to avoid the smooth-talking, good looking Don Juan who “probably has more men on the side as well” is too outrageously humorous to be taken seriously (227). Yet the hundreds of lines he spends dictating how a woman should prepare her appearance are even now applicable. A woman’s looks are still as obsessed over as they apparently were ages ago, now with plastic surgery and other radical treatments intended to prolong youth and beauty. A double standard is still in effect, as promiscuous women are frowned upon while men are ‘naturally’ inclined to sow their wild oats. It is astonishing to analyze what has changed and what remains true. Two thousand years were enough for Christianity to ‘purify’ sexual debauchery and homosexuality, but were not sufficient in bringing equality for women in the dating world.
However petty most of Ovid’s recommendations may be, from innumerable lines devoted to the proper hair care and makeup, to technique after technique on how to mislead a woman, most of it holds valid in the current dating system. Certain typecasts are still in place, as men are expected to be the aggressors and pursuers while women are counted on to stay demure and desirable. Even though the sexual openness of ancient Roman society has been drastically censored, the art of love is a subject that remains fascinating and absorbing to everyone. From those in stable relationships, those still searching for that special someone, and especially to those who wish to ‘maximize their potential,’ anyone can find something valuable in the strategies offered by Ovid in The Art of Love.

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[Wednesday,
October 25th, 2006]
[ mood | pissed off ]

"I'll crawl to your name,
I'll bend to the earth,
Nobody else could ever compare,
Anomaly, anomaly"

I love this song. The part where Brandon goes "Do do do do do do" makes me wither. It's so good! I don't know why I like it so much; the music itself is more edgy than romantic, but it sounds so good and the lyrics are pretty damn passionate.

It's been a long time since I've been up this late, and I'm still quite incensed, so I might as well blog about it.

I'm getting rather sick. I hope this doesn't fuck with me going on the Yosemitimothy trip. My throat is turning raw and my voice sounds incredibly scratchy. And I really hope I didn't infect my little cousin earlier when I was tutoring her.

I'm very mad at Bernard right now. He was being a mean, inconsiderate ass who tried to bribe me with frozen food. No, fucker, I don't want your chicken pot pie; I wanted to watch a movie with you, but instead you're going to fucking clean your room for an hour, study Italian for another hour, and then tell me that you would've had no time to watch a movie when you're going to bed at 12:30am anyway?! Asshole. (On a side note, chicken pot pie would've totally won me over if a: I didn't have Pizza Hut pepperoni pan pizza waiting at home for me and b: he had approached it in a much better way, like "I'm sorry, it's obviously too late to watch a movie, so how can I make it up to you? Do you want a chicken pot pie and some oral?" instead of "It's way too late! What the hell?! You have to write your essay anyway!")

Yeah, I do have to write my essay, but earlier when he whined about how he really wanted to watch a movie with me, I resigned myself to sacrificing two hours of my time to watch the fucking movie with him. And how does he repay the favor? By dropping it from his schedule because he got back from jiu-jitsu too late and would rather fold his fucking clothes! I'm so sick of how he NEVER makes time sacrifices for me, how everything has to revolve around his fucking agenda. And yes, I realize that I'm using the F word a lot. It happens when I'm pissed, ok?

I am writing that essay, by the way, but I took a break to type this up. And now I'm going to find some porn and play with myself while the asshole is sleeping in my sister's bed (not with her in it, you perv...and don't tell her, because she'd be upset if she knew, lol). He's here (at my place) because I have to take him to the motorcycle shop in the morning to pick up his bike, and he's there (in Ti's bed) because my essay writing would've prevented him from sleeping. I will fucking hate him even more in the morning when he wakes me up. My blood is already boiling from the anticipation.

I'm thankful I give myself such awesome orgasms or else I'd be ranting about my lack of a sex life too.

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Survey Says...! [Thursday,
October 5th, 2006]
[ mood | sore ]

originally on Myspace

"Lucille Austero: What you did to me at lunch today...you were ashamed to be with me!
Gob: No! I was ashamed to be seen with you! I like being with you!
Lucille Austero: I'm sorry, but you have no courage.
Gob: How can you say that? Shhh. Thought I heard my mom. (whispers) How can you say that?"

1. In two words, describe your last relationship?
Gone awry.

2. When was the last time you shaved your legs?
Haha…whoa. Let's just say I'm lucky I'm dating a dirty European! Ok look, I moved like last week and I left the razor at my old place. ::defensive:: Besides, Bernard never notices, save for this one time that I slacked off for over a month and he finally said, "Dude…shave your legs!" Doesn't that just prove that my leg hair is very delicate and easily overlooked?

3. What were you doing this morning at 8-am?
Sleeping. ::blissful sigh::

4. What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Chatting with Dre about her problems. She's got lots of 'em.

5. Are you any good at math?
Calculus and I have a love/hate relationship. We haven't interacted in a while though. I admit it's my fault; I'm avoiding his calls.

6. Your prom night?
It was nice. I went with my good guy friend instead of my boyfriend at the time, and a week later my good guy friend became my new boyfriend and first true love!

7. Do you have any famous ancestors?
I have no idea. I think I would've heard about it if I did, but my family's not that big on communication.

8. Have you ever taken out a loan to pay for school?
I have a no-limit credit line at the bank of Momma Ho. I highly recommend that institution: no interest rates, and no due dates…no debt at all, actually!

9. Do you know the words to the song on your myspace profile?
Yes. It's a lovely song. I arrived at the Hotel Café in Hollywood just in time to miss her performance last weekend. Thanks, babe.

10. Last thing received in the mail?
A letter from a bank asking if I wanted to change the mortgage payment schedule from monthly to bi-weekly, which supposedly will save thousands of dollars in interest.

11. How many different beverages have you drank today?
Two. I had the last quarter of a bottle of Nantucket Nectars Watermelon Strawberry juice, and then Dr. Pepper from In & Out.

12. Do you ever leave messages on people's answering machines?
No. It's bad enough I have check messages, let alone leave them.

13. Who did you lose your CONCERT virginity to?
It was at a rave where the headliners were Outkast…but that was back when the only reason I was at the rave was definitely not to listen to the music…so even though I enjoyed their rendition of "The Whole World" I didn't think much of it. It was only later when I sobered up that I was like, "Hey, I saw Outkast! I didn't even know they were supposed to be there!"

14. Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach?
No.

15. What's the most painful dental procedure you've had?
It was more psychologically painful than anything else. When I was younger, my orthodontist did everything but give me braces. I don't know why, because I'm sure all the various stuff he tried ended up costing the family more, not to mention that maybe if I had been given braces, I wouldn't need them now. Anyway, so the most traumatizing thing he did was put some sort of contraption in my mouth that needed to be winded up in the morning, and down at night. Well, apparently my dad misunderstood him, and kept winding up until I winded up with a huge gap in my front teeth! Then I get to the orthodontist two weeks later, and the fucker's laughing his ass off at me! I still have pictures of me gaping at my sister's birthday cake with a huge, empty opening in my teeth.

16. What do you hate?
Right now…I hate not having a refrigerator. Which in turn makes me hate my asshole of a father. Which in turn makes me hate marriage. Which in turn makes me hate my boyfriend. Which in turn makes me hate winter in Belgium. Can you tell I don't think very logically?

17. Any plans for tonight?
I already yelled at my boyfriend for watching The Ultimate Fighter instead of hanging out with me, and put him to sleep…so now I'm going to finish this survey, brush my teeth, wash my face, pee, and get to bed myself.

18. Do you like the ocean?
It's swell. Get it? Swell!? Ocean? SWELL?!? HAHAHAHHA!

19. Have you ever received one of those big tins of 3 different flavored popcorns for Christmas?
No, but it's this very question that made me want to steal this survey from Dre and complete it. Why? Because I have got the best gift ever for all you guys. Are you ready? Here it is. Don't say I never loved you. Because this proves it. Hey, and to prove you love me back, whoever gets the peanut butter/white chocolate flavor should trade with me…or even just give it to me…because you love me that much.

20. Have you ever been to a planetarium?
I think so. I think we went to the Griffith Park Observatory once. Wouldn't put my life on that though. That vague memory could just be mixed in with bits from movies and wishful thinking.

21. Who is your best friend?
See all those girls on the top row of my top friends list? That's them, minus Stephanie, who doesn't have Myspace. I also still consider Giz a really close homie, and I knew if I wanted to, I could call her up and cry my eyes out, and vice versa…but we just never do.

22. Something you are excited about?
Uhh…Vegas next weekend! And Yosemite, if it happens and if I can make it! And Switzerland for New Year's! And Mexico next summer! And getting my degree sometime in the not too distant future!

23. What is your favorite flavor of JELLO?
Lime or strawberry. Whipped cream is a must.

24. Are any of your great-grandparents still alive?
No. But their pictures are on shrines in various households of my family.

25. Describe your keychain:
It's like eight years old, this dirty, pink, leopard print, bean-filled thing cut in the shape of a K. It's rather hideous, but I swear I would never be able to find my keys were it not for that familiar flash of pink poking out from somewhere. I will be so sad when the fabric finally deteriorates off the key ring. It's lasted longer than both the Jamba Juice keychain and the Two Lips one, and those were made of some sort of metal alloy!

26. Where do you keep your change?
I'm pretty good at keeping it in my coin purse. But sometimes I get lazy (imagine that, me getting lazy!) and I throw it haphazardly into my purse, only to berate myself later because change is so dirty and it totally destroys the lining of the handbag.

27. When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people?
Probably last semester, for accounting class. I'm not shy in front of an audience.

28. What kind of winter coat do you have?
I need one of those. And a couple of weeks ago when I found this LaROK one I actually sort of liked, Bernard wouldn't let me get it because I've been broke lately and he wants to see me exert some financial control. But that's ok, because it was lined with rabbit fur, and I think rabbits are too cute to be lining a coat of mine anyway. Besides, it was more trendy than classy, and I want either an elegant all-black coat or a fashionable one with really cute buttons and adorable lining, like in Custo Barcelona's winter collection. Ok, but being realistic, I live in Southern California, where it's not even close to being necessary, and my annual winter trips to Europe are not reason enough for such a big investment. Unless I go get a cheap one from Burlington Coat Factory or something.

29.If you could kill anyone in history at birth who would it be?
I know most people would say Hitler, and I'm veering towards him too, but I think I'd have to do more research if this huge opportunity were to slip into my grasp. Every country, every era, has had its share of atrocious tragedies. A decision like this cannot be made lightly; it would be both irresponsible and potentially harmful to your own existence! Ahem. Anyway...

30. Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed?
Ever since I moved, I keep it open. And it's kind of nice, because so far my sister and I have gotten along really well, and I was all touched the other night when I noticed the door to her room was open as well when she went to bed. Last time I lived with her, we each had our bedroom doors glued shut, no matter what time of day.

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Email to Dad [Friday,
August 4th, 2006]
[ mood | pessimistic ]

Growing up, you were my hero. Despite all the problems you and mom had, I always defended you and got along better with you than mom. I still don't get along with her that well. I remember crying and begging her not to divorce you when I was young, when you had just stolen all her money and wasted it at the casino. Even after everything you put her through, I only cared that if you two divorced, I would never see you again. While mom was always gone trying to save up money, we would stay home with you, laughing and having the best time. You taught us to enjoy life. You always told us that money doesn't bring happiness, that health and family were more important.

Now you are the one tearing this family apart over money. Now you see an easy opportunity to grab a large sum of money, and you're taking it no matter what the cost. What is your motive? Is it revenge or greed? Maybe a mixture of both?

If it's revenge, then we have a chance. Because maybe you will come to the realization that what you are doing is so low and despicable that you would have no one left if it weren't for the fact that your two daughters really love you.

If it's greed, then there's no point in trying to reach out to you. If money is all you can think, eat, shit, and breathe right now, then there's nothing we can do.

Either way, ask yourself if it's worth losing the respect of your two daughters over it. Money doesn't buy happiness or respect. YOU taught me that.

Your actions are pushing everyone away from you, even though you say you don't want to be alone. Do you think we're all out to get you? That the whole world is against you? Don't you think we would all be supporting you if you were doing the right thing?! You need to open your eyes and understand that everyone was on your side at first. EVERYONE. Mom's whole family was on your side. They gave her so much shit for seeing that other guy, especially Grandma. Once, Grandma came to me crying, telling me that she tried her best to talk Mom out of divorcing, and apologizing that she couldn't do anything. That was before you sent out that letter, ironically disrespecting your biggest supporter. And you wonder why you don't have any allies left from Mom's side after talking shit about Grandma like that?! Smart move, Dad. And then when we, your two daughters, found out that you two were divorcing and that Mom was going to give you money, we agreed that it would be best to convince you to go in on a house with us. Why? Because we were on your side and wanted to live with you, and because we wanted you to wisely invest your money. But you weren't satisfied with that. You want to hurt mom. And in order to hurt mom, you're hurting your two children too. But now you seem to be okay with hurting us, as long as you get as much money as you can. After seeing how far you're willing to take this, how can we support what you're doing? We're not little kids anymore, Ba. We love you, but we know right from wrong, and what you're doing is NOT RIGHT.

I am writing to you because I'm hoping it's not too late. I'm still hoping that somewhere inside you is the devoted father who raised us. I'm writing to you because I see Titi so devastated from how her beloved father is acting. She was the one who kept defending you, who kept insisting that you're just doing all this out of anger, that you will calm down and everything will be ok. But after the other day, after Mom made her ridiculously generous offer and you coldly, methodically, demanded more, more, MORE, now Titi's starting to wonder about your character. And it's tearing her apart inside. She's only seventeen, Dad. You were my hero as a little girl, but then I grew up and moved out. You were her hero up until Wednesday.

I'm writing to you because I'm hoping you will end up making the right decision. The one that will bring back the respect not just of us, but of everyone. You could make us the happiest girls in the world if you do the right thing and stop trying to milk Mom dry. You once told us that all you cared about was making sure that we were okay. Well, we're not. You are the only one who can make it better, yet you refuse. What we need most is peace, and you're the one making war within the family. Fuck pride. Pride will get you a fistful of cash and a whole lot of emptiness.

Please don't let bitterness or greed get in the way of how you look to your children. If you think taking all that money and getting vengeance on Mom will make you happier than having the adoration and company of your own daughters, then I wish you the best, because I fear the rest of your life will be filled with sadness and regret. And Titi and I will be heartbroken, because our former impression of you will be shattered. You will be no longer the dad who loved his kids no matter what, you will be the man who ruined the family over his own selfish desires.

Love,
Kim

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Boo Vietnam [Tuesday,
July 18th, 2006]
[ mood | disappointed ]

originally on Myspace

"How long, how long, in definite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadder after none, or bitter, Fruit."

Last year, I spoke with two of my boyfriend's friends, who had decided to put their lives and jobs on hold to travel the world for over a year. Both are French, mid-twenties, and they spent the majority of their journey touring South America and Southeast Asia. Of the Asian countries, they confirmed that Vietnam was the worst.

Even though the country is beautiful, and things are dirt-cheap, it was the unscrupulous attitudes of the people that put them off. In every other Southeast Asian country, they praised the friendliness, hospitality, and warmth of all they encountered. But in Vietnam, everyone seemed to want to cheat them out of more money. Hotel itineraries suddenly went missing, and would magically reappear when the right amount of cash was displayed. Street vendors would ruthlessly nickel-and-dime the pair of confused tourists.

When I heard this, I was disappointed, and a bit defensive. I'm Vietnamese, after all, and I've been desperately wanting to go back. All of my friends who have visited rave about the place and say it's so much fun. Then again, they're all Vietnamese. So when I found out Tomo was going, I saw a chance to obtain redemption. It'd be perfect! She's not Vietnamese, so she'd be able to tell things from an impartial viewpoint, and she's a total travel-whore, so she'd know it works in Southeastern Asian countries.

Before she left, I told her what Bernard's friends had said about Vietnam, and asked her to call me with a full report as soon as she got back. Well, we just got off the phone. And the first thing she said was, "My GOD, Vietnamese people are all so greedy! I had no idea there were people like that! I couldnt believe it! I went to Cambodia and it was amazing! I want to go back! But I never want to return to Vietnam again! Not even with you!"

Apparently, on her first day there, a cyclist took her around, after agreeing on the price of 20,000 dong (chillax, that's about $1.50, probably less). She swore to me that she clarified the price. Then, after he takes there and back, he suddenly claims that his price is 200,000 dong--each way! So, being as it was her first day and she was kind of vulnerable, she bitterly paid the 400,000 dong. Eventually, she had to resort to never smiling and telling people that she was half Chinese and half Vietnamese (because being Japanese means you have bling bling).

Man. I'm really bummed about this. I hate that my country is making such a bad impression on tourists around the world! I still want to go back, but now I'm worried that my boyfriend will hate it. My mother even said to me, "Oh, I'll tell you all the places to go; you can find really good deals...then again, if they see you with Whitey, they'll try to rip you off." My mom said this! I guess if things are that bad, we can always just take off to Thailand. But that'll depress me even more if Thai people treat me better than the people of my own heritage!

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Dirty European [Sunday,
June 4th, 2006]
[ mood | amused ]

“You dirty girl, you’re not showering?”

“I showered last night!”

“So did I, and I’m still showering in the morning.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re still dirty. When I shower, I’m very thorough.”

“Yeah right, then what was that smell when I went down on you last night?”

“What?! What smell?”

“Haha, I’m just kidding.”

“Aww. Did I really smell?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Would you tell me if I was smelly?”

“Yes.”

“What would you say?”

“I’d probably say, ‘Hmm, something smells funny.’ And then I’d keep licking.”

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Blickity Blah [Monday,
May 22nd, 2006]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

"I paint the two of us on a canvas in chains
I hung it on the wall so the story sustains and I
Layer the colors with care in veils with the sky
Broader than an ocean and higher than high

I will remember
I will remember
I will remember
These embers of love..."

I'm deleting a bunch of old blog entries over on Myspace, and I'm going to transfer the ones I want to keep over here so that they don't just disappear into the black hole of web deletion. Just giving everyone a heads up, because I have no idea if LJ is going to post them as recent entries on your "Friends" page even if I date them from like a year ago when they were really written.

Of course, going over them has made me a bit sad, since a lot of them had to do with Christopher. Plus I've had to double check over on LJ to make sure I have the entry before I delete it (for a while, I had been double-posting both LJ and Myspace), so that makes me look over even more stuff. Like the longest entry of my life, the one where I wrote about both Chris and Bernard, then hastily made it private when I found out Chris was back early from his camping trip because I was terrified that he would read it. I made it public a while ago so that Bernard could read it, and left it public because it's old news and nobody's gonna read back to June of last year anyway. Seeing that entry made me so sad. Fucking PMS!

Geez, after hearing Imogen's haunting voice played against Mich Gerber's haunting melodies, now it's "Duk Koo Kim" from Sun Kil Moon playing, possibly the most haunting song ever written and recorded. I swear, my random music media player can read my moods sometimes, like the one time I was in an upbeat mood and it played all jammin' classic rock tunes, one after another.

This has been the longest three weeks of my life. Bernard better plan his trips overseas more carefully, because I can't hang with missing him while PMSing. I'm supposed to get my period any day now, and it'll be just my luck to get it tomorrow when he comes back. Not that gooey menstruation ever deterred him, but I doubt I'll be in the mood anymore, and I've been horny as fuck for about a month now. Bloody hell! (No pun intended.)

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