Visa or Mastercard, Please. No Condolences Accepted Here.

God, this is going to be an epic post. I should probably try to get back into the practice of blogging daily, but I just do not have it in me to both write creatively while finding time to blog and still go on with my life. This was a lot easier when I used to live like a hermit and refuse to leave the house. I guess what I am trying to say is that it’s been a weird time filled with getting things done and getting nothing done. Sort of like, the few of you that have my actual Insant Messenger screenname, how I am sort of always online, but never online anymore. I am married to the internet, but obsessed with my life. Creepy.

I got a lot of messages, e-mails and whatever else regarding the cease and desist I sent to C., who consequently is named Colin and I am just sick of typing a letter so I guess we’ll get over the humanization of him on my blog. Anyways, I forget what I typed here on the blog, but the bottom line is that he wanted me to be ok with him going on a trip with his ex, and for the life of me I couldn’t. Not because I even thought anything would happen, but because he swore it wouldn’t. I’m not exactly simple, but probably, if I went on a trip with an ex that had the same sort of emotional hold over me as this woman apparently had over Colin, I would probably fuck them. Maybe because I am a bad person, but probably because it is nice to fuck someone that is familiar. Especially, when you haven’t in a while. Especially, when you get to go home to someone else and pretend like it never happened. Yes, I am a bad person. Anyways, I totally broke up with him over IM, but then I had to go and pick up something at his house and we ended up talking. Actually, I never even had to go inside his home, but my sister gave me this big talk about being a grownup and having conversations with people when you breakup with them instead of just disappearing forever.

I think what I’m getting at is that Colin and I got back together. Not immediately, but the man gave me the space and time I needed to decide I did not want to destroy all parts of his life. Consequently, he also cancelled his trip with his ex and got to experience what a fucking insane livewire I truly am if I am upset. So I guess you can all stop feeling sorry for me and those of you that were truly excited, I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. I’m sure I’ll do something terrible in the next few weeks and completely redeem myself.

While all that was going on, I was busy mentally dealing with the death of summer. Every year at this time I am just completely torn apart by the fact that the seemingly endless days are slowly hacked away and devoured by the nighttime. Really, my biggest problem with this is that I am a total night person and now I might miss the daytime altogether. It’s sad and true. Also, I will miss the heat of the sunshine, but now I am being dramatic because I live in Los Angeles and even our shitty cold days are so much fucking better than the weather some of you idiots choose to endure. Seriously, what the fuck are you thinking?

Oh, I cut my hair even shorter. By the time I get around to uploading photos it will probably be just as long as it was before I let my hairdresser get scissorhappy. I like it though. When it’s short I look sort of dykie, but serious. I think my short-short haircut makes me look super serious. Too bad that being this short also means it is so fucking easy to make straight that I don’t even care that I have to do it anymore. I guess I will dye it really dark soon. It’s that time of year. Last night, I dreamt that I dyed it all black and ended up looking like some sort of Goth high school reject with my pale skin and sad cow eyes. I have never really been a fan of black, so who knows.

If you’re still reading this, probably you should get a life. In up and coming news, Erin is coming to visit me in three weeks. Three weeks is like an eternity for me. She might as well be coming in the year 2012 as the apocalypse arrives or something. Erin, this in no way indicates that I consider your visit to be an apocalypse, but the last time you came to LA I almost had to go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. Sorry I ruined your trip by being a rummy. I guess this time around I will act sort of like an adult and instead of getting insanely drunk I’ll just get medium drunk and then we can piss on cars again. If that was a secret from the internet, whoops. I am really terrible with secrets.

Tomorrow, I leave for Monterey. I’ll be there till Saturday. It’s like all I ever do is go on a series of vacations. I guess now that there is a mega-recession I won’t be doing this quite so much, but let’s face it, whenever anyone asks me if I want to go along on their boring trip and spice it up, I am obligated to go. Because of this bylaw I am totally going to accidentally go on a ton of trips anyways and pretend like it’s not because of some silly whim I have because I am totally afraid of permanence and commitment.