Ahh... yes. Damn, I'm tired. I haven't been home since Saturday morning. But at least I had a weekend full of getting lost in SF, crunkness, munchies, and more getting lost.

Had a grande time at the Saturday night bonfire and the kickback afterwards. I haven't seen most of you Davis kids all summer. Thanks to all the designated (and not so designated) drivers all weekend.

Despite our failed attempt to clubbin on Sunday nite, I wouldn't mind giving it another chance. Considering the condition we were in, I don't think anybody was even attempting to get thru the door. If anything, some might've been in the condition to brawl (cough*Nancy* haha). Good thing we chose to ditch that place for some food.

Its Monday, and I still haven't started packing. I'm moving into my new apt on Saturday. Fun fun.

I was going to add a "comment" section, but then I just remembered why I didn't do it before. This is MY blogger and it will only house MY thoughts, opinions, rants, and other menial shit. If y'all wanna talk to me about something, I'd rather hear it in person, or AIM.

Besides, leaving comments is such a xanga thing to do.

A new layout after only 2 weeks? Yes, I was bored tonite. And I need more black in my life. Thus, more black it will be!

I was hanging out in Huy's new Berkeley apartment today, when I picked up an old Newsweek. According to its headlining article, 64% of Americans have dreamt of missing a train. It may be the 4th most frequently occuring dream, but that's the first on my list of recurring ones.

Every 2 weeks or so, since sophomore year of high school, I've had the same repeating dream:

I roll out of bed alone, look out my small apartment window, slowly get dressed, wave a cab down, quietly on my way to work, then suddenly tell him to drive to the train station, I jump out of the cab, with briefcase/leather bag in hand, chasing a train (similar to Amtrack) in the pouring rain. Drop the briefcase, jump on the moving train's emergency exit, thrust the door open, run down the aisles very clumsily in my soaking blouse, thrust open a door to a passenger compartment, look at the man sitting in front of me surrounded by strange women in business suits, he says "Christine?...", then I say something menial (i.e. "umm... nevermind"), he's confused, then I close their door, turn around, get off the next stop, and head back home in the clear skies.

After analyzing this for many years, I know what this all means. I'm just not gonna say it here in writing.

Deadbolts on bedrooms? Ridiculous! Who the hell wants to steal my shit?... Moreover, who the hell wants to steal your shit?!

Damn, I can just sense another Brian-Serena-esque episode occuring in my future apartment. I consider myself a pretty damn responsible person. Probably the MOST responsible in my household (yes, it sounds like bragging, but its true). Rarely am I offended. But when I'm told in sugar coated words that I CAN'T be trusted and that I have underlying forces of evil by some woman who doesn't even know me, then of course I'm going to take offense AND disgust. Do you even know what your own goddam kid is up to?

I highly doubt so. Just wait till she finds out what her kid's been up to. I'd look like a fucking angel compared to all those dirty lies they've been using on her.

Today was mine and Amy's longest SF adventure EVER. Lasting morning til evening, we ended our Sunset-Haight outing on Steven's apartment rooftop.



Rather than the typical commercial shopping adventure, we did more typical urban dweller activities, such as driving, Muni, walking, talking to strangers in a learning center, residential parking, trying to exchange old clothes, window shopping, talking to more random Chinese ladies, and hangin around somebody else's home.

Even tho it never solves any big problems, back-to-school shopping always makes everything look so much sunnier. And a new Roxy bikini, state of the art stapler, and kickass megagrip pens always make my day run so much more smoothly.

I'm tired of hearing arguing in my house. Tired of ppl trying to make me the middle man. Tired of finger pointing and no compromise. There needs to be more consideration, communication, compromise, and goddam common courtesy. In that same order, too. And I mean this for EVERYONE (at least in my house).

Well, I can always drown myself in Ebay during the drama fests. :o/

Oh don't worry -- I'm down for some competition.

I finally signed and wrote in Santa Cruz's 2003 MHS yearbook. Now she can die happy. She laughed a lot while reading my yearbook entry. I don't think she's reading it right. But what can I expect, Lily DOES have Dyslexia and Adult A.D.D.

Its okay Lily, we'll still pretend its 2003 for you.

Happy Birthday KENT!!!

With that being said, I've realized that I get a throbbing headache every time I watch an aweful basketball game. Thus, the American's disasterous defeat, USA vs. Puerto Rico, left a mind numbing affect on me. Watching any Dream Team game just angers me now. Especially today, when Puerto Rico, an island with a population slightly more than LA and whose best export was Ricky Martin, won in a landslide.

Of all the players in the NBA, what the hell happened to all the shooters? Oh yes, they all declined. Boo.

Time to bake a cherry Oreo cheesecake. Yes, that should cheer me up.

I was feeling a bit experimental today, so I waxed my forehead and temples with some waxing cream. Much to my surprise, it didn't hurt, but it did give off an unusual odor. Maby when I'm feeling more adventurous, I'll try some hot wax on my legs. God, shaving can be so inconvenient.

I don't know if you can see any noticeable changes, but here's the final result:

Pardon the shit colored layout. I just pulled this number outta my ass. It was literally done within a few minutes. Once again, I apologize for this eyesore, but its not nearly as bad as looking at the same layout for another 6 months. Good bye KFC, hello The Park.

So yesterday I tested my driving/parking skills in Berkeley, and that wasn't hard at all. The hard part was walking across the city with Amy, then having to walk miles back in the beating sun, uphill, to repark the car every 2 hours. We did the usual urban exploring type of things, like shopping, eating, walking, and bumping into Song-My.

I was driving with my window rolled down and looking for parking, then this one homeless looking lady walked towards us in the middle of the street. She started waving her arms and yelling stuff, then when she got close to my open window, she shouted that she found parking for me. haha. I declined and thanked her for the offer, cuz I wasn't looking for meter parking. Funny, crazy Berkeley ppl, gotta love 'em.

My god, I never took so many pictures in my life. And I never knew I had so many normal, young, goofy, warm cousins and relatives. I went to my great grandfather's cousin's birthday tonite, and this distant family of mine was sooo excited to see me after 10 years. Yes, 10 years. They all wondered what the hell happened to me, Vic, and Joe cuz we practically dissappeared off the face of the planet, leaving our parents to go to family gatherings alone for 10 years.

Distant relatives... its so easy to forget names and faces. Oh well, I should keep in better contact with my own family.

More Mah Jong, Hold'em, and Billards tonite at Ruby's. Girls becoming gambling addicts, wonderful. Maby we'll be good enough to enter Mah Jong tournaments when we're older. Cuz I assume Hold'em will wear out within the next 6 years and Mah Jong will take over cable tv. I'll check this prediction in 6 years.

Of the 8 years I've lived in this neighborhood, today was the first time I went to the annual neighborhood watch potluck. Its very strange. Me and Vic were the only teenagers there (Cuz our parents forced us to represent our household), and we spent the majority of the time bonding with a young 8th grade Russell history teacher.

Turns out most adults are only cheery on the surface. The PTA members, Police Chief, teachers, Board Council, everyone... just does it for networking purposes. In their real adult conversations, not publicized, they're like the rest of us -- very cynical, sarcastic, and somewhat dark in humor. Who would've thought that these ppl who came off as too cheery and involved would be regular 'ol folks who just wanna get by.

Super Size me is tha shit! (in ghetto bopper voice).

Thank goodness I quit eating fast food regularly. Just like how I quit drinking and doing drugs. haha, j/k, it's only fast food I'm quitting. j/k, no, not j/k. Who the hell created "j/k"? Is it purely a invention of middle school?

Mah Jong is taking over my life. And I'm not even 50, yet.