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1. I am on a mission to find the perfect potato and egg taco. Living on the border has it's suck moments to be sure, but one of the benefits is the plethora of mexican culinary delights. A breakfast taco full of potato and egg, cheese if you're feeling frisky, and drenched in salsa is the best way to start the day. It's also the best way to soothe a hangover, because it satisfies the grease quotient as well as being a heartwarming meal. I used to only eat at El Pato, which I had deemed the ruler of all breakfast tacos, until I tried Taqueria Palenque, whose tortillas are mas bueno. So now I'm trying all sorts of places, to determine who makes the perfect breakfast taco. Tonight I ate at Tacofe, and I have to rate them a solid F. Uncooked potatos, and runny egg. ICK! Plus the hot sauce was not hot enough.
2. I am an official crazy person. I woke up at 6:30 this morning and went to the gym. What the hell is wrong with me you may ask? My lard to body ratio is like 3:1, and my clothes are starting to get a little tight. Do you think maybe my obsession with tacos may have something to do with it? Suggest it and die. Plus I'm going to the beach for a few days in May and I'd like to be able to wear a bathing suit without feeling like small children are laughing at me. You know how it is.
3. I heard the thong song today. Finally! I was beginning to feel like a big loser. Except that after I heard it I felt like I needed a shower. That was not a happy party tune, that was like a weird groove R&B concoction. Thong tha tha thong thong thong...what? Ok, and the guy's name is Sisco, is that like the malt liquor they sold a few years ago that was like Everclear? What a classy guy.
4. Elian Shmelian...if I have to hear about this kid one more time...and what is wrong with Cubans? What a bunch of bullshit. That's all I'm going to say about that.
5. I'm thinking about quitting graduate school. I miss having a life. I miss being able to go out on Friday nights. I hate it. I want it to go away and never come back. Please don't make me go anymore.
Ok, that about wraps it up. Love ya, mean it.
April 18...If loving "Cops" is wrong, I don't want to be right.
Right now I'm updating this page rather than watch the best show ever created, "Cops", which says a lot about my rather slavish and psychotic devotion to this webpage. Although one could point to the sporadic updating and say "Some devotion, you only update once a week now", I worry about NOT updating almost every day. That's because I'm a freak, but that's a different story.
So back to "Cops". "Cops" makes me feel better as a person, it makes me feel much more glamorous than the white trash it so lovingly portrays, and I almost always get a hearty laugh out of it. In short, watching "Cops" is much like drinking a beer. Actually, when I was in high school and I would go to pick Ramsey up for a night of underage drinking in Mexico, she would make me wait until "Cops" was over. You heard me right...the girl would rather watch "Cops" than go drinking. Weird.
But can you blame her? It's a great fucking show. Sometimes I root for the bad guy, sometimes I root for the cop, but overall, I feel like a better human being afterwards. Some people say "Cops" is scummy, and lump it in the same category as "When Animals Attack" and other such tripe. I say to those people, where else are you going to get your self-esteem from? Tell me a better place, I dare you.
To to wrap things up (because a man is being arrested for drunken driving and I am so there), God bless the makers of "Cops". If anything, they've brought a spark of joy to this girl's day.
Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?
April 13...I am grossing out. I just got done eating my favorite chinese meal, sesame chicken. As I was eating, I actually took the time to look at my food rather than simply inhaling it as is par for the course, and what I saw made my stomach turn. The chicken looked normal on the outside and tasted normal, but when you peered inside there were pieces of fat wedged in between regular chicken meat. The horror began to set in...they probably buy chicken "parts" and just throw those in the cooker or whatever. Who the hell knows what parts of chicken or other animals for that matter I just ingested. Disgust. Not to mention sadness, because I really loved sesame chicken. But no more.
I am wiped out. Work was a madhouse today. Thanks to Jim for such a neat posting in my guestbook and the words of encouragement. Jim, if you ever stop by again, thanks for signing, you're right, you are the first person in their 40's to ever sign, or probably even lay eyes on this page. Very cool of you.
He's also right about the job thing. I am now working for a business which I will eventually own, and I cannot tell you how satisfying it is. I am starting at the very bottom of the barrel, I am working like a dog, and I love it. I know now what has been missing in all my past jobs...feeling like what I'm doing actually matters. It does now. I care now. Maybe I should have cared before, since I was getting paid and all, but I've never been paid what I'm worth. Hell, I've never been paid what the going market rate was for my position. Even now my pay isn't ideal, but it doesn't matter to me because I'm working for my future. It's a great feeling.
Ok, gotta go veg on the couch and digest the crap I just ate. Oy vey.
p.s. John Cusak is a cutie. I saw "Pushing Tin" this morning...yowza.
p.p.s. M., you know I love you.
April 12...Ok, I am really going to do my best to start updating a lot more regularly. Was that total misuse
of the english language? If so, I humbly apologize. So, I just saw Lisa's links page with the little
descriptions next to her links and I got way too excited about all the nice things she said
about me. But thanks Lisa, if it means anything, I feel the same about your page! Sorry for
the virtual asskissing.
Now that's out of the way...I have been thinking lately of a million things I could write
about in Daily Dirt and then when I actually sit down to write them they escape me. And my
ideas which sound good in theory don't seem to want to materialize in practice. Like who
really wants to hear about my obsession with Bill Murray? I have come to conclude that this
man is the best actor around. I love every movie he's ever been in, even Groundhog Day.
I watch Scrooged every time it comes on television. I want to go out right now and
rent Rushmore just because he's so damn funny. Any man that drinks vodka and Tab
together has my undying devotion.
I am going to tell you all about a totally whack dream I had last night, but you better not
think I am a big psycho afterwards, ok? Ok. In my dream Madonna came to my small Texas town and
we went out to dinner together. She was laughing at all my jokes and we were having a grand
old time, when all of a sudden her helicopter arrived to whisk her back to New York. So I said
okay, see you later, and then I was in Russia and I couldn't figure out how I got there. I
kept trying to call home so that someone could send me money for a plane ticket home, but
apparently you can't use MCI calling cards from Russia, nor can you call collect. But then
I thought of my good friend Madonna and thought, "Surely she'll buy me a plane ticket!" So
I pulled her phone number out of my pocket and called her, but then I thought it was weird
because her number was 555-4325 ext. 31 and I thought, no one REALLY has a 555 number. Then
I woke up, so I don't know if Madonna rescued me or not.
Oh, and I also was going to watch a movie in Russia to kill the time but the only thing they
were showing was "Boiler Room" and "Jaws" and I was to upset about being stranded there so I
didn't see either one.
Ok, I really hate it when people describe their dreams in excruciating detail, because every
time someone starts to tell me about a dream they had I instantly tune out. How boring and
self-absorbed do you have to be to believe that anyone gives a rats ass about your dreams?
So I just did what I hate. But I'm sitting here thinking it was so real. You know how it is.
I have always been a procrastinator, but it's really bad when you start procrastinating planning
your own wedding. Everyone and their mother has been asking if we've set a date, and we still
haven't. We're like, "Oh, December or January", totally vague, and not making any effort to make
that reality. I am pathetic.
I love working on my webpage at work because it totally looks like I'm working hard for the money.
HAHA, little do you know. I will express my frustration with my current job situation at a later
date, just in case they DO know. I am the ultimate paranoid.
The one year anniversary of my webpage is coming up...I started working on this stupid thing
late April of last year, so happy birthday to me! I hope to continue for many many years, or
until I get tired, whichever comes first.
April 10...Ok, I've got an ugly ass link on the daily dirt page, and this one doesn't look much better, but you're lucky I've even found time to update so shut yer yap. Things have been tres hectic at old Casa Supergringa. Between bachelorette parties and trips to the Alamo, I just don't know what to do with myself! But fear not, gentle reader, for I have not deserted you for good. Once the dirt settles and the cramps subside, I will be back to my regular self.
Friday I found myself in San Antonio, and being that it was a beautiful day and all, we decided to hit the Alamo. I had never found anyone who was willing to go with me, but how can I call myself a Texan if I've never been to our state's pride and joy? Although I hardly think the location of the slaughter of 150 people constitutes family entertainment, the place was packed with kiddies and families galore. I especially enjoyed my trip to the Alamo gift shop, where you could purchase your very own Davy Crockett cap, Alamo pens, t-shirts, and bumper stickers. Very classy. And of course I wanted to ask where the basement was, but chickened out at the last minute. Those guards are very stern looking.
Saturday night I had the pleasure of attending a bachelorette party. In preparation for the event, I bought the cheapest piece of trashy lingerie at my local Fredrick's of Hollywood, and after that stopped off at the local newstand for some good quality porn to give the bride-to-be. I bought a copy of Playguy thinking it would be funny to give her nude pictures of pre-pubescent boys, until I got home, started flipping through it, and realized it was a gay magazine! The shots of the guys on all fours with their buttholes the focus of the picture probably should have clued me in, but I can be a little slow sometimes.
The party itself was your standard bachelorette fare...pictures of nude men all over the apartment, dick-shaped jello shots, and a game called "Pin the Macho on the Man", which is basically a bastardized version of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. And of course, the highlight of the evening...the stripper.
Girls, I think we can all agree that male strippers by and large are pretty nasty. No one gets a stripper because you are legitimately turned on by them, rather it is a cruel joke to play on the unsuspecting victim. In this case, we were all pleasantly surpirsed by his non-swiny qualities. The long mullet wasn't there, instead he had short, nicely groomed hair. And he was asian...I had never seen an Asian stripper, but it was a nice change from the last party I went to with Jaz, The Italian Stallion who we later found out had gotten a girl we know pregnant and who turned out to be Mexican, not Italian. But that's another story for another day.
So a good time was had by all. That's all the update for today. Hopefully I will get back on schedule and things will return to normal. And Allison, if you're reading this, happy 21st birthday! Drink one for me.
April 3...I ask this question every six months, but why oh why oh why do we still have to use Daylight Savings Time? I am so against this archaic concept, that if George W. Bush said that he would ban it if elected president, I would vote for him. You heard me right. Also, why didn't farmers back in the day just wake up an hour earlier when it was harvesting time? Wouldn't that have saved a lot of confusion and groggy people such as myself waking up late and stumbling around in a stupor?
Why are people so dumb? There is a person (and I use this term loosely) who has called my boyfriend's house ever since he's had his current phone number (which has been about three years) on a daily basis and it's the wrong number every single time. She calls sometimes three times a day, usually when we're not home. When we ARE home, she grunts something into the phone about having the wrong number and hangs up before you can call her a stupid bitch. I tease him that it's probably a stalker, but judging from the area we live in, I'm sure it's just someone who's incredibly retarded. THREE YEARS OF WRONG NUMBERS! Unbelivable!
I watched a two hour thing last night on MSNBC about plane crashes. It was pretty cool. Not that people dying in plane crashes is pretty cool, but it was an interesting show. Now I'll make sure to be extra nervous next time I fly.
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