kissy face

Chinatown Bakery Double Happiness Kiss

love you so much

a little too much PDA


xmas sweaters xoxo

monterey bay besito

union square snuggle

disneyland nuptuals

cake smash smoosh

people mover passion

baker beach beso

Roller Coaster of Love Kiss

Ferris Bueller Wheel Kiss

All Star Beso

Gaybob Kiss

red wigs and blue eyeshadow

usually my Halloween costume is set in stone by mid-June. This year, I was lost. I had no clue. My husband and I were perusing the thrift stores on Haight. He had his eye on 7-inch patent leather stilettos. I, on the other hand, was mesmerized by this flaming red wig. I still was unsure on what to do with it. My husband suggested I be Peg Bundy. I guess that was an easy enough costume, so I went for it. How did I do?

My husband grew a pervy moustache and decided to be Saddam Hussein. Together, we were the power couple. Don't you think?

if i had a time machine...

If I had a time machine...

I would go to the Busy Bee, take a popscicle out of the freezer and tell Sam to put it on Nana's tab.

Then I would go around the corner and stop by Anna's Danish Bakery. I would comment on the "We Sell Sugar-Free Cookies" sign that hangs in the window. Who the hell eats sugar-free cookies? That's what I'd say. Then I'd buy the tastiest butter cookie and it would melt in my mouth.

Then I'd walk across the street and go to Carl's Bakery. I'd buy an eclaire and take it home to split with Nana.

3527

The only place I can remember living, sleeping or being for any great length of time is 3527 18th Street, Apartment #1. I wonder who lives there now. Sometimes I get the urge to ring the doorbell, and not with just any ring. I'd use the "secret" ring. The ring I would use so that my Nana knew it was me and she didn't have to go to the living room, pull apart those awful yellow drapes and look out the window. I'd like to meet the folks who live there now and point out places in the house that are of significance to me for whatever reason, as if they would care. I want to take them to the kitchen window and show them where you can see Nana's name painted on the mural across the street. I want to tell them how my grandma used to hang my underwear and uniform skirt out of that very window for the world to see. I want to tell them that they can't turn the faucet on too high or lock the bedroom door because Nana said so. I'd like to see what kinds of things hide in the huge closet. I wonder if they have 14 bottles of Andre, 2 gallons of olive oil and 10 packs of drinking straws, you know, "just in case." I'd take them to the green bathroom and ask them where the shag carpet my Nana put in there went. I'd ask them if they ever bring innertubes into the olive bathtub and pretend they are in the lake. I'd sit in the kitchen at my spot at the table, even though the table is no longer there. I'd ask them if they ever hear Nana talking on the phone to France or maybe to herself. I'd take them into the living room and show them where Nana used to play her records. I'd sit there by the window and remember holding Nana's hand when she died. I'd point to where she went to rest and tell the new tenants that the place is haunted with 35 years of memories. I'd chase them out of the front door. I'd double lock the door and then put on the chain. I'd peek through the little lace curtain on the glass door and make sure they were gone. Then I would sit in the living room where Nana died, curl into a ball and cry.

San Jose, My Own Personal Apocalypse

it was so gloomy when i stepped out of work this evening, which is completely uncharacteristic for San Jose. There were so many gray clouds, I felt instantly depressed. It's always so dreary in my office, I always feel safe to assume that the outside is much better. It's as if I'm Dorothy, stepping out from the cold, black and white farm house, to the beautiful , bright land of Oz. Not that I consider San Jose my Oz. San Jose sucks and always will suck. It just that it was weird for the parking lot to look so ugly. I instantly thought of Russell and thought that perhaps God was trying to tell me something. Then I told myself I was being silly. I got in my car and drove off. As I was rounding the corner to get on the 880, a bunch of embers or ash or whatever you call the red, burning shit that flies everywhere when you throw your cigarette out the window, came flying past my window. The weird part is that it wasn't from a cigarette, it was thicker, if that's even possible. I instantly thought of the it was the apocalypse and fire and hail was coming from the sky. Then i thought of all the flies that have been in my apartment. I mean where the hell did they come from? Maybe they're locusts. I remembered my shower this morning. The water came out red. Most likely from the shitty plumbing. But now I was thinking perhaps the angels had turned the water bitter or maybe even to blood.

then i realized that I'm neurotic, delusional, paranoid and possibly retarded.

i miss my husband. i just want him to come home.

losing my blog virginity

Sitting home, alone. Husband's away. Spending way too much time on the Internet. Looking at things that do not really matter. Thought that maybe writing some stuff here would keep me away from the evil that is the Space. I could also be doing something far more productive, like cleaning my house. After all, I'm already caught up on Survivor On Demand.

Okay, I'm going to get off my ass and clean the house.