Archive for December, 2009

Now the party don’t start til I walk in.

So, I’ve never really done one of these “year in review” type thingies, but I figured I’d give it a shot. I’ll keep it short.

Actually, I don’t even know where to begin. So much has happened in such a short period of time and the older I get, the faster a year seems to go.

Obviously the biggest change this past year was moving back to Southern California. It was San Francisco or my education and frankly, that wasn’t exactly a tough desicion. It was definitely tough to leave, but I’m all the better for it. Strangely enough,  regardless of where I go and what I do, North County will always be home and I’m OK with that. Moving back is just the next chapter–my newest adventure in life and into the new year. Other than that there have just been the little things: I got a tattoo, made some new friends and regained my self confidence (for the most part). Oh! I also met someone. And while it was short lived, it was totally worth it. (I bet that threw you for a loop, huh?)

I have no idea what the future holds; I mean, I have my hopes and goals for the new year, but just in the last 5 months things have changed so drastically that I try not to plan too far in advance anymore (unless it’s in regard to my education).

And that’s it, really. I’m excited for 2010 and can’t wait to experience whatever the future may hold.


Question! Tell me how you feel about this.

I have a confession to make. I, “goodnight, rose” am an addict. Or, as one of my best friends puts it, I’m “secretly chocolate”. I love pop and hip hop music–you know, the “hits”. Catchy, ready-made, pop music. The abhorrent, vapid lyrics. The auto-tuning. I love it all. And I can’t stop listening to it! Taylor Swift, Jason Derulo, Rihanna, Jay-Z, Lady Ga-Ga, TI.  In the car all I seem to listen to is 93.3FM or (my new favorite) Z90.3FM (San Diego’s Number One Hip Hop Station, for your information.) I shake my hips in the car and sing at the top of my lungs. I know, completely out of character, right? Or maybe it’s not…

It’s gotten so bad that when I’m home and don’t feel like listening to my iPod, I log onto Pandora…and guess what kind of “stations” I’ve created? That’s right, “Rhianna” and (I can’t believe I’m about to admit this,) “Destiny’s Child”! Yes. I’m serious. So now I get to listen to Mya, TLC and the like as well; the shit they don’t play on the radio anymore. I then proceed to dance around my house and sing along. (Yes, I admit, I have far too much time I my hands these days.)

I used to pride myself on being a music snob. Searching for obscure, unknown bands, being the “first” to introduce them to my friends, or maybe just hoarding them for myself; and now here I am…listening to Beyonce. Does this make me a bad person? I’m hoping it just makes me multi-faceted. I just can’t help myself, OK?! Sheesh. It could be worse, right? I could be hiding chocolate bars under my bed or shooting up heroine. And I’m not doing either of those things, I’m simply listening to pop music.

And for your viewing and listening pleasure, I leave you with this:

(I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. It’s one of my fading favorites at the moment.)

Reissue: I attract assholes.

Since I haven’t had a chance to write anything lately, (mostly because of finals) I figured I would bring back an oldie, but a goodie from a little (now defunct) blog ya’ll might remember–ITSSOJ?! This was the very first post I have written for that blog, before it became a video blog.


Tuesday, November 28, 2008

On more than one occasion in very recent past weeks I have attracted douche bags on my outings in the city. I don’t know why this would be, considering I’ve taken to scowling on a constant basis and apparently don’t look very friendly (according to my friends–thank you very much). This particular night had previously been a school day, and on school days, I wake up, brush my teeth, throw some jeans on and I’m out the door. That’s right– no change of shirt, no shower (which equals dirty hair), no new make up and occasionally, no undies. This is my Monday, Wednesday, Friday routine. So, when Kiss and I ended up at 111 Minna on a Wednesday night, I can guarantee you that I looked like trash…but I must wear it well because as soon as I got my beer and sat down some idiot came up to me with his cup out in a “cheers” gesture. I don’t even know where he came from. Rarely do I notice the men in Minna because I’m usually focused on the art, which was what I was trying to enjoy when the idiot came up.
This man was not at all my “type”.  And even though I barely know what my “type” is, he definitely was not it. As soon as he sat down he did not stop talking about his “rough” Buddhist upbringing and how his overt confidence sometimes makes people uncomfortable–Gee, go figure! I didn’t even have to actually pay attention; but I did listen enough to know that he was an actor, a psychology major and annoying as fuck. The rest of the conversation consisted of me throwing in a “Hm”, “Yeah” and “Oh”. If he happened to ask me a question, I just pretended like I couldn’t hear well and had him repeat (the music was pretty loud, so I easily got away with it).

I guess he took my short answers and stink faces in his direction as a sign of silent genius and decided that I was a psychological case that needed to be cracked because he then proceeded to psychoanalyze me. He proceeded to make me feel as if I had no artistic outlet, (“You have a blog, ha, who doesn’t!?) and apparently I “sandbag myself“. So, I’m lazy and worthless, but hey! I am sexy! Which is what he told me next…at a bar (slash art gallery), how cliché, I mean creative! And this coming from an “actor”. Someone, please give this man an Oscar. It took every ounce of willpower to not tell him about my Wednesday morning regiment, and to reveal just how “sexy” I truly am. If only…

So he kept blabbing, blabbing, blabbing and not actually listening to my answers to his questions (some psychologist), while I tried desparately to think of an exit plan, getting zero help from my friends (whom I kept giving the “HELP!” look to, to no avail). I finally decided that I was going to go check out the art in the adjacent room in Minna and Kiss said she would come along. Thank you sweet, baby Jesus!

As I was about to escape, the idiot asked for my phone number! Are you kidding me? Did I seriously seem remotely interested? Is this some sort of JOKE?! I, of course gave him a fake number. What else could I do? He apparently thought I was interested? Ugh.

I guess I need to develope a stinky attitude to go with my infamous stink eye, ’cause the eye alone just isn’t cutting it.

I have no shame.

This past month was deemed “No Shave November”. I hadn’t ever heard of this practice until this year, so I’m not sure if it’s something new or not…but anyway, a bunch of my friends and myself decided to participate–yes, girls too. Four of us girls in particular decided to grow our armpit hair out. At first there was a bet of sorts involved (something about a keg), but that quickly diminished and we just wanted to see if we had it in us to keep growing the hair out.

For the most part, I didn’t have a problem with it at all. The only complaints I have was the fact that I no longer felt comfortable wearing tank tops to yoga and I think the longer my hair grew, the more ineffective my deodorant/anti-perspiration became. Oh, and I totally surprised/grossed myself out every time I got naked to get in the shower and caught sight of my hairy pits in the mirror–other than that, I was totally cool. In fact, I enjoyed showing people my pits and getting their various reactions. Most people were just completely disgusted and made comments such as, “Dirty!” or “EW! That’s so gross!” This, from my friends and family! Whatevs. I don’t understand why one would think my pits are “dirty” or unsanitary just because they were hairy. I still showered everyday, sometimes twice a day! How do hairy armpits correlate to being unclean?

For our “No Shave November” finale 3 out of the 4 of us girls got drunk and waxed our hairy pits. And if you’re wondering, yes, it did hurt, and yes, they did bleed. But it was worth it, ’cause now I get to go about another month without having to shave!

In all honesty, I kind of grew attached to my hairy pits and was almost sorry to see them go…but I don’t think I’ll be growing them out again anytime soon.

Three out of four of the hottest chicks (formerly) with hairy pits that you'll ever meet.