Well this year's taxes are certainly going to be the death of me. I just got a $5,700 tax bill. I can make payments to Uncle Sam but damn Sam!

Never Never Never

make goo-goo eyes and use your feminine wiles to lure a man you've never seen beofre into your proximity when he's wearing sunglasses! I've learned this lesson before. Once when I was 21 in Virginia at the beach, and once again here in SF with a cab driver. Why oh why must a sexy pair of sunglasses mask a crucial element of one's appeal? You know what it was that distracted me this time? The cleft. I'm beginning to grow incredibly fond of clefts! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, nostrils and clefts, my my isn't she discerning?!

Spring Has Sprung

I juat got a gorgeous flower ararngement from The Rockstar and Vixen today for Spring! I'm so lucky/blessed/loved right now!

I finally got to talk to my littlest bro today! It was only for about five minutes before the tyranical psychopath made him hang-up, but he's doing alright. I reassured him that when he turned sixteen we were going to do everything in our power to get him emancipated and free from the beast. Just about six more years to go. A good friend reminded me today that the best thing I can do is show him that someone happy and productive cares about him and thinks he's special, that he matters. Sure wish I had had someone on the sidelines rooting for me when I was under her lack of care. Ah well, I turned out okay right? Well, functional at least!

My Tribe

I'm a member of tribe.net and this is the testimony for me that one of my oldest and dearest friends has submitted.

Reese is such a loving, kind and caring person. I'm proud to call her my sister! She goes to church every Sunday and loves Jesus with all of her heart. Nope, you won't find any faults or naughty sins with this good christian I tell ya'. Oh yeah, she knits the best gosh darn sweaters that you've ever seen!!

We love you Reese!

Fuck What Jesus Would Do.
It's all about "What Would Reese Do?"

Integrity

You know a woman is a good friend when she won't wear the shirt you left over her house because she knows you haven't even worn it yet.

We're much more like everyone around us than we think. Or are we?

Preface: So this week has been a little odd to say the least. Abby, Eloise and I keep running into faces from a lifetime ago past. Sometimes getting away with pretending we didn't see the person, other times being forced into uncomfortable small talk and nauseating physical contact.

So it's midnight and I'm on BART on my way home from St. Paddy's day celebration with the girls, I’m deliriously tired, dangerously hungry, and stone cold sober. The car I'm in is quite until two white girls with blonde hair in their 30's come barreling in from the next car evidently the complete opposite of stone cold sober. They're loudly remarking about how this car smells like weed when one girl notices the bicycle leaned against the seat across from her and says "Damn, that's a nice bike. That's like the bike from Friday". The owner of the bike, a once sleeping Mexican man raises his head as if to ask "What"? She asks "Have you ever seen the movie Friday? That's like the bike in Friday. Okay besides the fact that you're Mexican have you ever seen the movie Friday"? Now I'm hoping I just didn't hear the part when he said "I'm Mexican" because otherwise I apologize on behalf of all white girls everywhere because we don't all lack couth. Before I know it the second set of staggeringly drunk white girls dragging a red-faced boy tromp into the car; only these two are significantly younger, significantly louder, and are wearing significantly less clothing with significantly more showing.

The immediately migrate towards the established drunk white chicks and the new duo promptly sits on the floor in front of the seated girls while the boy sits three seats away alone and closes his eyes. The girls bond over how much they’ve all had to drink tonight, and one of the younger girls begins talking and doesn’t stop for the next twenty minutes straight. This girl's voice and manner of speaking were so nerve grating- okay so take any over-the-top, stereotypical impression of a valley girl that you’ve heard, exaggerate it by a million times, and then double it. She’s going on and on and on and on when I start listening in…“Oh my god I just ran into my ex-boyfriend in that car can you believe it?! That is so random! I mean how random is that! This has been a really strange night. Week really”. One of the other girls clarifies “So the guy you came in here with isn’t your boyfriend”? “No, he's like my best friend we’ve been best friends for like five years I mean we dated for like three weeks five years ago but now we’re totally best friends”. Then she leans in and whispers something into her listener’s ear. I tune her out, go back to listening to Lemonjelly on my ipod and then I tune in again. “I mean, you really have to know yourself and love yourself before you can expect someone else to really love you. I mean, I know it’s easier said than does but it’s just a fact”. I begin to let go of my judgments. Okay. So she’s got a juvenile manner of speaking, and yes she’s drinking straight Absolute from a 7-Up bottle on public transportation, but I can identify with having a “strange week”. And she’s self-aware. She’s learned a valuable lesson of life and relationships, and she’s come to this realization a heck of a lot younger than most women I know. One of the seated girls points to and asks about the ring on her finger. “Oh my boyfriend gave it to me. I know it totally looks like a wedding band but he makes me wear it. He wants boys to think I’m married because I can’t be faithful. I’ve never been able to be happy with just one man. There’s been no one man who could satisfy me and I don’t just mean like sex but I need a lot of attention you know one of those girls who’s Daddy was never around blah blah blah I totally get it and everything but it doesn’t help just knowing you know? So I have to pretty much lie and tell my boyfriend that I’m staying in and then I sneak out go party but I haven’t been out without him in like year, in May it will be a year, so this is a special night Wooooo-Hooooo”! The other girl lays it down. She slurs to her, “Okay, so I don’t want to get all preachy on you, but lose this (points to the ring) lose the boyfriend, and just allow yourself to have the kind of fun you want to have. I mean, you can go shopping, and lust after all the shoes in the sore, and try on a bunch of different beautiful shoes, but sometimes It’s nice just to window shop, you don’t gotta take ‘em all home”! The younger girl giggles, “Oh my GOD I am so glad I ran into you you’re like my guardian angel”. Then it was my stop and I got off.

I wrote to my Italian penpal catching him up on my latest goings-ons. I sent it off and then for kicks dumped it into Babelfish for translation. This is how bad it was:

A lot amusing! They are not lazy! Enough opposite. Last end week I beacon from baby-sitter, lottery body of Jello and eaten the lunch with Seas and Jackson. I have received to To on my last examination, but e' to become incredibly diffucult. There and of the summer programs? I hope call Roma/La Tuscany in September. Until after time

I'm the only person I know who could fall in love with a boy on the second floor of the building across the street while I'm supposed to be engaged in a 10 person meeting.

Evidence of my Jello wrestling

Another reason I want to work for Google, on-site laundry facilities!

Beware the Ides of March

I woke this morning to a response email from Canada. I emailed yesterday inquiring about the state of his affairs and while he's still ambiguous, I'm disappointed. Guess I was hoping for more than I was trying to tell myself. Ah well, I don't need to read an entire book to get the message "He's just not that into you". Next!

I'm gonna wash that Jello right outta my hair!

I know I said I wasn't going to consume alcohol until March 20th, but when a friend sends you an email about an invite only warehouse party thrown by someone young, rich and fabulous, complete with open bar and Jello wrestling, you promptly jump feet first off the wagon into tight jeans and tiny snug wife-beater over a skimpy bikini, a cowboy hat and L.A. style sunglasses just like two of your best gal pals, and the three of you will carry around a bottle of expensive liquor and you will call yourselves Team Tequila flirting unabashedly and eventually you will wind up in your bikini in front of 600 plus people in an inflatable pool filled knee deep with green Jello wiggling and writhing with your opponent and then promptly leave afterwards to remove the goo hiding out in crevices. My life is good stuff right now folks!

Fee Fee I love you!

I babysat tonight and boy did I get lucky, she was delightful. She's eight months old, and only got mildly fussy when she started to get sleepy. We played with her toys on the floor, we went for a nice walk around the neighborhood, she entertained herself mostly and then she finally conked out in my bed. This itty bitty yet super chubby little person curled up in the middle of my bed on a pile of blankets; I was overwhelmed. It really dawned on me that when you have a baby of your own, you're always around it. I mean, I can say that I love kids and that I'm completely comfortable with them, and that my body has baby fever, but your life as you know it is over. Not necessarily in a bad way, just polar opposite. Is anyone ever really prepared for that?

Some days I think that the longer I'm single and the more my single-type behavior and lifestyle is engrained into my being, that I may seriously not want to make that sacrifice. Other days I know that all of the things I enjoy as an individual are replaced with amazing experiences that are shared with Mommy and baby.

I've been doing well in my Italian class, enough to keep up in class and remember it for quizes, but it doesn't feel like any of it is sticking to be used in regular conversation. Until today when a friend told me she didn't bring a pen or a piece if paper to play Boggle with during lunch on the roof-top garden, and I instinctually told her in Italian that I had an extra she could borrow. Benissimo!

To Minna we will go, to Minna we will go. Hi Ho the Derrio, to Minna we will go! I HAD planned on staying in and getting some stuff around the house, but Your Sovereign Leader got a big ol' fat A on her Italian quiz and that's cause for celebration!

So Far So Good

Just so everyone knows, I'm not drinking for the next few weeks, until March 20th. I've been to two social engagements this week without any social lubricant and it's been just dandy. At a friend's surprise birthday party I could definitely tell by the end of the evening that I wasn't on the same page as everyone else, but I had a great time. And last night I went to Teatro ZinZanni and although it would have been nice to induge, especially in an opulent and decadent setting, I stuck to Evian and enjoyed myself all the same. Given my history with hooch, I'm glad this isn't presenting a challenge. My body needs the break.

I've pinpointed the source of my blues. I've been reading a Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius for my book club and it's painfully reminding me that I haven't talked to my little brother since Christmas and I miss him terribly. Since my mother doesn't answer her phone or give him my letters, my sister is supposed to call me when she spends time with him; but she doesn't. Sometimes I feel like living my life for me is the best thing I can do for him because I'm setting a good example. And other times, when I go months without hearing his sweet little voice, I want to abandon my entire life on the West Coast to be near him. But I probably wouldn't see him any more than I do now because of the tyranical psychopath that has control over him. I can't send him money because she'll spend it. I don't want to send him toys because he gets bored with them so quickly, he is only nine after all. So I write him letters and send them to my sister's house, hoping that they reach him. Everyone cross your fingers that I'll make contact soon.

I've woken up painfully sad today for absolutely no apparent reason. I checked my cycle. Nope. Thought about my diet over the last few days. That's not it. It's 11:30 and I've cried twice. There's no aggro, no irritation, just heavy-hearted blues. I'm productive, I don't feel lazy, just melancholy.

HAPPY 30TH MR. GIBSON!

You're one of us now.