Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on February 7, 2007

Lost is back tonight. Back. Baaaack bitches! Lost? Is found. I can’t wait for the episode. So I can sit there and be all “what the fuck?” with the rest of the world. Or “fish biscuits!” Or “fuck you Ben-Henry Gale!”

That’s about all I have. Thanks for reading!

Actually, I was thinking about something on my walk home tonight. Because it’s rip-your-face-off-cold and I need to think of something besides whether or not my toes will fall off. And how I should have worn boots so said toes don’t fall off. So then I started thinking about what to write. Because really, I need more trips because they make for easy material. Seriously. Especially if there is booze involved in any matter. (Hmmm. Have I ever gone on a trip where alcohol is not involved in some way, shape or form? Maybe when we would go to Door County to visit my grandma. But she’s an alcoholic, so she was usually drinking an entire jug of wine.) I’ll sing Baby Got Back in front of co-workers. I’ll take photos of chicks’ thongs. Or I’ll just post 100 photos about myself. But those damn travel posts write themselves. (Although the SF one? Not funny at all. I’m not too happy with it. I should have split it up. Too much going on.)

Where was I? Right. Lost is on tonight! A new episode! Wait. Already said that. I was talking about the thoughts that go through my head. Which, as you’ve witnessed with the packing journal, not a place you want to be. Get on the first flight outta there!

But seriously, I was actually thinking about how my life feels a bit out of control at the moment. Pretty much since I started my new job. It’s not out of control in a bad way. But more of a I’m-such-a-creature-of-habit-and-changing-up-my-routine-that-I-was-used-to-for-the-last-year-and-a-half-is-really-messing-me-up kind of way. And my fucking sleep schedule.

I love my job. I do. Seriously. Those people are so fucking funny. I literally fit in on day one. I couldn’t ask for a better crew to work with. Even the one VP from Seattle, Sloop John B, who is in town this week, told us today he likes being in the Chicago office.

But I think the biggest thing is having actual work to do. Which, I don’t mind. The days fly by. I swear to God, numerous times during the last two days I uttered “it’s already (insert time that it obviously doesn’t feel like)?” I love being busy. I love having things to do. I love being in charge of things. I love solving billing issues, or purchase order issues or any kind of problem. I heart my job.

Being busy, though, doesn’t give me as much free time during the day to do the normal shit I used to do. No more checking blogs. No more writing blogs. No more e-mailing up a storm. Not as much IM’ing. Even the stupid things like paying bills, or checking on my CTA card or shopping online. I just don’t have a lot of time for it.

Which means? I have to do these things at home. Not a bad thing. More privacy. Can watch TV while you do it. But since my job keeps me busy AND I don’t roll in until 8:50, I work later. Which means I get home later. (But much faster than it would be if I was still driving. Love. That.) So then I’m trying to cram a lot of stuff into a smaller window of time. Dishes, dinner, TV, ironing, blogging, reading blogs, feeding cats, picking nose, eating, yelling at cats, picking up cat hair EVERYWHERE, more eating. You get the picture.

Last night I was up until midnight (MIDNIGHT!) writing that post and putting all those photos online. Now granted, that was extreme because it was a long post (long doesn’t even touch the novel-like qualities) and uploading photos and writing titles and everything. Is time consuming. But if I didn’t do it last night, I probably would have gotten around to it on the weekend. And I wanted to do it. I had such an awesome time!

I know once I get into this job a little more things will be all good in the hood. And once I stop all the damn travelling (have I mentioned I’m going BACK to Seattle for work again in less than two weeks? That’s not going to stop the insanity. Not one bit.) It’s throwing me off. I need to get into a routine. I will get into a routine. But it’s taking longer than I thought. And for an anal person who is a teeny bit of a control freak and is a slave for routine? It’s a little overwhelming. And pull-you-hair-out irritating. But I’m handling it well. As well as a crazy person can.

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Posted By Kristabella on February 6, 2007

First off, a hearty congratulations to myself on reaching a new all-time high in blog hits. It was on Monday with a impressive 254! Mostly because of my post titled I Hate Rex Grossman. And while I’ve mentioned before that the post doesn’t have much to do with Rex, I am happy to know that there are SO MANY Rex haters. And I must congratulate myself. Because if I don’t, who will?

I read a lot of blogs. Well, used to. My job actually makes me do work. The absurdity! And there are a lot of seasoned bloggers who have very loyal readers and expect them to write every day. I don’t think I’m anywhere near that. I think the closest I got was when I got strep throat and had been posting every day and people were wondering where I was. But that was also because I wasn’t answering e-mails or anything.

But this weekend when I was in San Francisco, the blog was mentioned. A lot! So I’m going to have some new readers. Who have been waiting patiently to read all about themselves. (Hi Michelle!) We’re all attention seeking whores like that.

So I had an awesome time. I apologize for not blogging while I was there. (I shouldn’t apologize to you. It’s my blog and I will do what I want!) (Sorry…please don’t stop reading. I heart all of you.) But somehow one of the most technologically advanced cities in America doesn’t have free wireless or free high speed in some of their hotels. I’m talking to you Parc 55. You’re on notice! So it was $14 a day and just started to makes less and less sense since I was only using it for about 30 minutes. And 29 of those minutes were checking my work e-mail. Because I felt all guilty taking a vacation when I just started. And $14 a day is a lot to spend. That’s like two whole beers in San Francisco! (Chicago isn’t a cheap city by any means. But damn I forgot just how expensive San Francisco is. Especially when it comes to booze. No wonder I’m in so much debt.) And also, all that booze meant I was drunk and in no posting shape. I didn’t get much sleep as it is.

OK, I’ll shut up now and talk about the trip. Thursday night we went out to 1,100 bars before we finally decided on four. Seriously. We planned to go to Amnesia. It was a decent looking place. But then it didn’t open until 6. (Which isn’t a problem for most people. But we’re a bunch of drunks. And? 6 PM Pacific is 8 PM Central so I was already way behind.) So we went to The Phoenix, which made sense since (sense since, say that 5 times fast) the Lauersdorfs are from the A-to-the-Z. When Amnesia opened (finally) we found out they were having a some sort of film forum. Which we didn’t think would be a problem, until it was really a panel of people taking questions. And we are loud. And got dirty looks. So we left. After chugging our drinks. We couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Meanwhile, Teri is supposed to be meeting us. I leave a message that we’re going back to The Phoenix. We’re not. Thomas wants to go to Beauty Bar. Fine. “Teri, we’re going to Beauty Bar.” Beauty Bar is closed. (It’s like 7 at this point. Maybe.) OK, we’re going to Cha-Cha Bar. But standing out front, we decide to go to Bruno’s. Finally. “Teri, we’re at Bruno’s.” (She made it and wasn’t irritated by the high schoolishness of it all. Because Bruno’s has booze. And Teri, much like myself, loves the sauce.)

We sat at Bruno’s for a bit. Had some mojitos and some beers. And some chips and salsa. And some veggies and dip. That were sitting out. We thought it was like a happy hour buffet. It wasn’t. There was some group there for some champagne launch or something. We wondered why we got dirty looks with our scavenging ways of the chip plate. (Wow. We got lots of dirty looks that night.)

We ended up at Cha-Cha Bar again to eat. Then we went to a gay bar. My first one ever. It was fun. Nothing like dancing to awesome music with the hottest men in the world. Who cares if they aren’t interested in you. I like to look at pretty people. We left pretty early because, well, we started early. And I was still on Chicago time. And mostly? I drank a vat of beer. In my EL shirt.

Man I need to lose weight. Yuck! But hey! Cute shirt!

Friday was Napa day. (I’m starting to realize I should have written some posts along the way because this is going to be long. And boring. But you’ll read. Because I’ll have photos.) It was me, the Haroersdorfs and Sharona (who was awesome enough to drive up there so we didn’t have to worry about paying for transportation.) We got a little turned around on the way up there. Sharona asked me to pull out the California map. I think I was thinking it was going to be a Northern California map. (Even though the front clearly said CALIFORNIA.) But when I pulled it out and saw LA, I might have blurted out “it’s a big state.” (Hilarity ensued.)

We went to six wineries. SIX. I’m sure for those of you who have never been to wine country to do tastings that six doesn’t seem like a lot. But you have to figure in driving from winery to winery. And the fact you’re getting to taste at least five different wines at each place. And, if you’re such wine connoisseurs like ourselves, they might let you taste even more. (Although, I think it was because it was Friday and no one was there.) So a lot of wine was consumed. We made friends. We had Hank, our guy at Grigch Hills. Who was very informative. (Did you know that fume blancs only use French Oak? Or something like that.)

Then there was John at V. Sattui. (Which I’ve always referred to as Hee Sop Choi. Which was funny when he played for the Cubs and people knew who he was. Hee Sop, where have you gone?) But this winery is the place to go for lunch. They have this huge deli with all these cheeses and meats and bread. So you can make a little picnic. And they have free tastings (FREE) and cheap wine (CHEAP) which is decent. John liked us. Although he thought we were from Oakland. Sharon is. But I think it’s because we were rowdy. Although still offensive if you’re not actually from Oakland. One tasting in he realized I was from Chicago. Apparently, we have accents. Da Bears! But he let us try a shitload of reds. They have a lot of wines. He even wanted was forced to take his photo with us.

We like wine. And have three more wineries to hit after this one.

Friday night we met up with Betsey and Hoddy, the bride and groom to be. And got to see some old friends from back in the day. All of two years ago when I used to live there. Was a long day.

Saturday we went to the farmer’s market at the Ferry Building. Which I highly recommend for any of you visiting. They have a whole station of cheese. And you can try as many as you like. I was like a pig in slop. Or a pig eating cheese. Then we went to Frjtz, which isn’t owned by the guy who used to work at the Niners with me. (Thank God because I would have picketed. Or something.) But it’s a Belgian place with basically beer and Belgian fries. Which are awesome! They are like double-fried and just all heart-attack causing goodness.

After lunch, Haro and I went to get whored out our make-up done at the MAC counter in Nordstrom. Which was super fun. It’s nice to get all gussied up like a whore girl sometimes. (Heeeee! How many times can I say whore?) But it’s a lot more make-up than I’m used to. Not for long. Seeing as I spent $120 on MAC shit. But I looked hot. And now own fake eyelashes.

See the one on the left totally has a fake eyelash on it. Am dead sexy.

The wedding was so beautiful. They got married in this little chapel in the Presidio, which is an old military base near the Golden Gate bridge. And then had their reception at a restaurant in the Financial District. It was a great time. We obviously sat at that table. We were loud. And drank a lot. And came up with many things that were blog worthy. (They made fun of my little notebook that I write notes in. Until they realized how fun it was.) The crew consisted of me, Lori & Mike, Michelle, Andrew and Todd. The hair stylist guy was there. His name was Hunter. But before Michelle could remember his name, all she could remember was it started with H. So he was only known as Helmut.

Hey sexy ladies boys, this is Andrew. He’s single and chilly living in Minnesota. Give him a buzz at (612) 555-6789. He needs something someone to warm him up.

Other notes from the evening, which got really hard to read as the night went on. (That must have been since I drank all the Jack in the bar. Seriously. They ran out. I had to switch to 7 & 7s. That’s a LOT of whiskey.)

Michelle lives to drink. She had four drinks at one time.

Sometimes you don’t need a man. You need a man friend. (Todd is my man friend.)

Our waiter, Sexy McSexypants (which I called him and gave him my number) (to meet us out after the wedding, duh!) who had no personality and was wearing a friendship necklace from 1992 (according to Michelle (AKA M Wizzle.) (We make up the team of M Wizzle and the K Jizzle.) Here’s Hottie McSexyton.

It was an awesome time. We drank a lot. And I left SF early Sunday morning (almost oversleeping because I full on passed out with my dress on and every light in the room on and apparently we had pizza because I saw a greasy plate sitting on the nightstand. Next to my book. Which I forgot.) and barely made it back in time to catch the game. (Don’t fly into Midway. It took me an hour to get my bags.) And I paid $50 there to drink all I could in three hours. Which I did. Which is why I think I’m still drunk, days later.

And that pretty much sums it up. See the rest of the photos here.

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Posted By Kristabella on February 5, 2007

I’m sure you’re all looking for posts about the weekend and the Bears game yesterday. But I am hungover and it’s going to have to wait. I have had lots to drink and not enough sleep. But I do have some great stories from SF.

But I had to share this story today. Because it was insane crazy.

So yesterday I went to a bar to watch the game. I got there just as Devin Hester was doing a celebration dance after returning the opening kickoff for a touchdown. My flight was on time from SF, but it took me an hour to get my bags. I dropped them off at this chick’s apartment, who is friends with Rich’s hotel gal. Who he was in town to see. She lives like a block from the bar. We had a blast, minus the game. (And I shared many a beer with fellow Rex haters. And had 122 hits to this post. Which doesn’t have much to do with Sexy Rexy. But maybe I’ll have some new readers.)

Anyway, after the game I was heading out the door of the chick’s apartment with my bags and was planning on walking the block to the EL stop. It was late and I was tired. And my liver was non too pleased with the mass quantities of alcohol. As I was walking out the door, Chick’s cat ran into the hall. Chick started to run down the stairs to grab him. At the same time, since I was weighed down with bags, Rich’s chick, Wendy, got up and was all “I’ll get him.” Then, all of a sudden I hear a loud tumble. And then I hear Chick calling Wendy’s name and just getting all panicky and then her yelling to call 911. I panicked and couldn’t find my phone, so I ran back up to the apartment to yell for Rich to call 911. He lolly-gagged a bit because him and Wendy were just having a bit of a fight about something stupid and he didn’t think I was serious. I came in to grab a towel. I ran back down the stairs to give it to Chick and I think my direct quote was “Oh my God!” Wendy had this HUGE gash on her forehead and there was this huge pool of blood next to her. It was a lot of blood. A LOT.

Rich came down then and saw why I was freaking. He stood outside and waited for the ambulance. Wendy was telling us she was fine and I was helping wipe the blood off her face and her hands. The paramedics got there and told her they needed to get some stitches. She left with Chick. Rich and I were left to clean up the blood. Which was a lot of blood. Have I mentioned? We did that and then I realized “where’s the cat?” I never saw it go back into the apartment, so I thought it might have gotten out. So Rich and I were out on the street at 10:30 at night, after drinking a lot of alcohol, trying to find the cat. We looked for like 2 minutes because it was fucking -32 outside. We looked everywhere in the house.

At 11, I finally left. I hadn’t slept in days and I needed to get home and get warm. I left Rich to worry about the cat. I was sad, but I didn’t know what else to do. I heard from Rich a few times during the night because he went to the hospital to be with Wendy. She’s doing fine. Had a bunch of stitches. Gashed it way down into the muscle. They didn’t get back until 4 AM. And they found the cat way under the bed.

It was totally freaky. And very sobering. And totally random. And crazytown. And bad news Bears.

I had to share this. But have to stop typing. Because I’m shaking. Either because it’s cold. Or from withdrawal.

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Posted By Kristabella on February 1, 2007

Wine + blogging – any rational thought + packing + early flight = One hell of a hangover x 10. If they did math like this in school I’d be Isaac Fucking Newton!

(I need to point out that I am unable to spell Isaac anyway but Issac because of having to type Issac Bruce’s name 8,735 times with the 49ers.)

I was actually going to get up this morning and read last night’s post again because I’m pretty sure it’s the worst thing I’ve ever written. Packing diary is only an excuse for you all to crawl inside my little head and see what random thoughts cross it. And as you can see, it’s not a place you want to be.

I’m on the plane right now. We sat at the jetway for about an extra 45 minutes (which is apparently the norm for me lately with West Coast flights) because the power went out in our jet bridge and they kinda need power to get the plane away from it and close the door. (Yeah, didn’t make much sense to me either.) And I’m flying Southwest which means they are all perky and giving you 100 updates. I like to be as informed as the next guy, but hey, pilot? Don’t get on and tell me they have a breaker open with wires hanging everywhere. Just as I’m about to fly 3,000 miles ACROSS THE COUNTRY! Bitch please.

I made it to the airport by the skin of my teeth. Again. I checked in online yesterday, because it is Southwest and my last experience to AZ checking in early gave me group fucking C. So I set the reminder on my computer yesterday to go off at 10 AM. So I got group A. Yeah me!

I was moving slowly this morning. For some odd reason. But I left for the train at 7:30ish. But it takes a little longer when you have 3 bags in tow. (Shoe bag not such a good idea, hindsight.) And the worst part was that it was 7:30 AM. So the trains were packed. And I had all these bags. And did the asshole thing and took up two seats. Because it was either that, or the bag was in the aisle. And man can I tell you the dirty looks I got for that. But once I got on the Orange Line to Midway, it was all good. There were like 3 people in my car. And? AND?? It was the Bears Orange Line train. If I didn’t have three bags, I would have taken a photo.

My flight came from Baltimore or Philly or somewhere not in Chicago. And these ladies have been on it from the start. And the flight attendant dude and them are all new BFFs. The one woman has a Southwest pin on. She was being all helpful when people got on. I swore she worked for them. They even let the one lady hand out peanuts. (I didn’t see it. I was drooling on myself. I heard flight attendant dude announce it. Woke me up, damn him!)

Before we took off, they made an announcement “If you’re Tracey Myers, please raise your hand.” I see the SW worked come back to the woman sitting in the row behind me. And she’s all “My sister is Ann Myers, but she didn’t come on the plane.” And SW worker is all “So are you Tracey Myers?” Lady says “No, I don’t know a Tracey Myers.” What in the…? Why would you…? Jesus Christ woman! Why did you raise your hand??

The plane is now starting to descend into Oakland (or The Biggity, Biggity O as Lynchie calls it. And probably others.) I should shut off my electrical devices. But I wanted to be let you know that this pilot’s descent makes it feel like a fucking nose dive.

Oh, the pressure in my head!

UPDATE: I’m here. And I got my nails did. I’m all gussied up!

It is a little weird to be here. I thought I would land and just love it here so much and not want to leave. While yes, I do love it here, I do love Chicago more. A lot more. It’s a lot cleaner. And on Chicago’s worst day, it smells better than San Francisco’s best day. Whose bright idea was it to put the tourist shopping district in the ghetto? I have smelled a lot of funk today. (I won’t even get started on the BART stank. Maybe all cloth seats and carpet (carpet in public transportation???) is contributing to that. Ya think?)

But it is cool to be back. I’m surprised it has taken me this long to make my return trip. I like knowing how to get around and not feeling like a tourist. I hate feeling like a tourist.

Now I’m going to get ready to go out to Happy Hour! It’s time to get our drink on! (In my Brown Line EL shirt. If I feel like changing.)

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Posted By Kristabella on January 31, 2007

My intentions were to do a packing journal today. Because Amalah does them over at her site, and they are funny. Every time. And? I not so secretly want to be her. Or be her BFF. (I’d say I want to be her when I grow up, but I’m like three months older than her. And she’s like married and has a toddler.)

And I steal. But only good ideas.

That was the plan all day. Because I don’t have much else to talk about. HAVE I MENTIONED I’M GOING TO SAN FRANCISCO TOMORROW?

But then, maybe the worst thing in the world happened. (OK, maybe not the worst. I exaggerate.) I signed up to run some 10-mile race. ME. Who does not run. Ever. People, I signed up to run 10 fucking miles! (It ends at Soldier Field, on the field, but you know what? I’ve already fucking been down there, so really? What the fuck did I just do? PanicPanicPanicPanic.)

Here’s my rationale. Which I made sober. I figured, I’ve been getting so mad at myself for not actually working out. (And gaining weight and becoming a fat arse all around.) And I can never force myself to do any kind of physical activity besides walking to the kitchen to fill up my wine glass. So, I figure, this will give me motivation to get my ass in shape. And? It costs $40, and if money doesn’t motivate me, I don’t know what does. (Which is a lie because I let the old gym by old work take money out of my account every month and never went. Money is no motivation. Should be. Seeing as I’m poor.)

So yep. I’m going to become a runner. (Jenn must be so proud.) (Oh. And the HORROR!!!) And I need to start training now. Because have I mentioned? I don’t run. (Jenn? Help? Please? Helllllllllllllllllllp!)

So, yeah, that packing diary. I figured it really wasn’t worth the time because I am anal. I write lists. Almost down to what outfit I will wear at what time. (Almost. Ha! I totally do that.) And then lie (lay?) them all out on the bed. Because I am that fucking insane. So on my way home I decided “why not throw a little wine into the mix. That shall make this packing diary more interesting.” (Yes, I say shall to myself. I’m quite proper when talking to me.) (Oh, and wine will probably make me forget something crucial, like panties, or shoes or my damn dress for the wedding. Might not be so funny then.) On with the packing show!

7:15 Get home from work. I stayed until 6 for God knows why. To feel caught up, I suppose. Even though I was caught up at 2. Must be all that damned time I wasted signing up for a TEN-MILE RUN!

7:25 Dinner Wine time. I ate too. I had a turkey sandwich. And some chips. I added fruit. Wine is made from grapes, bitches. (Sometimes when I swear, I remember that my aunt reads this. I don’t worry about my mom. She’s used to that shit. But my aunt? My Godmother? She’s probably trying to get out of that deal. Hi Auntie Debbie!)

7:30 Oooooh … I forgot to watch I Love New York from Monday. Train. Wreck.

7:45 This is a bad show. Yet, can’t stop watching. I have to see what slapdick she ends up with.

8:15 She booted two guys. Yawn.

8:30 Was this a packing diary?

8:32 Glass number two. I somehow think my flight is late tomorrow. It’s at 9:50. Which means? I have to be on my way to the train earlier than normal. Boo.

8:35 I’m just stalling now. Listening to Sirius Hits 1. Because I already know what I’m going to pack. Maybe not, but at least the suitcase is still out from my trip last week.

8:49 Teri is coming to Happy Hour tomorrow night! She just got back from Miami and some early Super Bowl festivities. Where she almost grabbed Mike Ditka’s ass.

8:50 I’m getting up now. To go get out stuff to pack.

8:55 Dress? Check. PJs? Check. OK, all set. Where’s my wine?

8:56 I have two pairs of shoes for that one dress. I don’t know which ones will look better. Haro will tell me.

8:58 Bears shirt? Check. Bears sweatshirt? Check. (Am going from airport Sunday afternoon to watch game at bar. Could ya tell?)

8:59 Accidentally omitted. Bears ski hat? Check.

8:59.7 I have a sink full of dishes that I need to do before I skip town. They’ve been in there too long.

9:00 Also have to take out trash. And empty cat box. So much to do.

9:01 And I need to put that damn laundry away. I think it’s time for a wine break.

9:01-9:15 WINE BREAK!

9:11 Cat in the suitcase! (Interrupting wine break.)

9:16 Shit! Jeans not totally dry! Thank God for radiators. I won’t forget them. I’ll remember them when I smell burning denim.

9:19 I really think Yellow Tail Shiraz is the best wine you can buy for under $10. And? It’s only $6.99 at CVS. SCORE!

9:22 OH! Must remember to charge camera batteries. Must go do that now before I get distracted. Ooooh! What’s that shiny thing?

9:23 It’s an hour charger. Remind me to take them out. Before they like blow up the house and shit. In an hour.

9:27 I wear like the same five things. One of them being my Brown Line EL shirt. But it’s fucking cool. So suck it. Way better than something like a Pittsburg/Bay Pointe BART shirt.

9:27.6 Actually, that would be pretty cool.

9:28 So you’ll see me in that on Thursday night. Commenting on it shows me you read. It’s like some sot of blog reading comprehension test.

9:30 Know what? Exactly two years ago today I was fired by the Niners. Man, the things packing makes you remember. Suitcase, desk, it’s all the same.

9:33 Currently in suitcase? Dress. And cat. Currently in my belly? Processed lunchmeat and wine. Oodles of it. (That was for you Tina!)

9:34 Cats shed. Do they make travel size lint brushes? I need to get one. For now, must pack big honkin’ lint brush. Stoopid cats.

9:34.1 This would go a lot faster if I just packed. Instead of telling you about it.

9:34.3 That’s a lie. I’m multi-tasking. Thinking about what to pack while typing. Normally I’d just be standing around staring at my closet. And my sheddy cats sitting in my suitcase.

9:35 The Fray’s How to Save a Life is on Sirius. Oh how I heart this song.

9:36 Shit! I still have those dishes to do!

9:41 Tomorrow is the first. I need to write my rent check.

9:44 What’s the over/under on my finishing this bottle of wine tonight?

9:44.6 I’ll hear the collective laugh tomorrow when you all read that. HA!

9:49 Shit! Running shoes! Cause I’m a runner now. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit…

9:53 Small suitcase is not working. May have to check two bags. Too many shoes. But with another bag? I can add another pair of shoes.

9:54 Wait. Have to take EL and BART with said bags.

9:54.8 Hmmmmmm…………

9:55 Extra bag means more space for possible stuff I may buy. Since we’re staying in Union Square and all.

9:55.8 Hmmmmmm………….

9:56 I have a bag of shoes.

9:58 Jeans are dry. Ding!

10:03 Mom, there’s no way I’m going to be able to drop stuff off to you on Sunday. You knew it was going that way when I mentioned the bag of shoes.

10:04 I love having a DVR with Sirius. I am going back to listen to The Fray.

10:05 I still have those dishes, don’t I?

10:06 Riddle me this, internet. What jacket do you wear to SF when it’s going to be 56. When you’re coming from -10. I don’t want to bring big ass down coat to airport. But then again, have to walk to train in the cold. This is a dilemma.

10:08 And I need a coat for wedding. That looks all cute and shit with my dress.

10:09 Bag o’ shoes = a good idea.

10:10 What? You want to hear The Fray again? Oakily Doakily.

10:11 Is it time to get those batteries out of the charger?

10:11.4 Nope. 23 after the hour.

10:11.9 Thanks!

10:12 You’re welcome

10:16 This nice lady at my old job got me a bamboo plant as a going away present. Maybe I should water it.

10:22 Speaking of my old job. They hired a man to replace me. Which means they will actually give him responsibility. Besides mailing shit. And making coffee. And I’m sure he’s making more than I did. The CEO also hired an admin. Which means it took two people to replace me. TWO! I rule.

10:23 I’m done packing. I think. Just debating the coat issue. I think I could get away with sweater, hooded sweatshirt and Columbia fleece. With hat and gloves of course. When it’s -10 it doesn’t matter. You’re just going to be cold. 

10:27 I’m going with the red trench coat for the wedding. Which will look awesome with my dress. And my (possibly) red shoes.

10:34 Wine done. Me? Done.

11:01 Still haven’t done dishes.

11:15 OK. This is too long. I’m done. Like any of you have even read this far. I’ll start blogging from the plane tomorrow!

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