Blogging block.

Dear god. Do I have NOTHING to blog about?

Um, there was that girl who prayed next to me on the bus. Like, the moment I sat down she did the Catholic four-point cross motion. Am I that intimidating? I promise I wasn't wearing my really-huge-sunglasses-so-she-must-be-a-bitch shades.

And there was that Nia dance class I went to with mom. I have never in my life tried harder to hold my laughter in. Well, ok, once, when Stace and I were at Jay's yoga class and he said we were all going on the same hike but looking at different chipmunks and shit. This is when we were in some one-legged balance pose. It was difficult to hold it in during such a silent activity. At least during the dance class, I could harness my laughter energy into my free dance. And boy I bet you wish you were there to witness that free dance. And the pelvic jumproping. And all the retired PV moms not thinking any of this was remotely odd.

One of my most favorite sounds ever.

Don't you love when life feels like the Discovery Channel?

Like that one time I standing between Kerchoff and Moore, looking for my keys to get into the building, and this HAWK comes out of nowhere, swoops into the bushes for a split second, and flies away clutching a struggling field mouse. Talk about circle of life.

Here was another fun moment, leaving the Farmer's Market with mom:

stop stealing my get-ups!

As I'm sitting here waiting for a work email response, I am of course distracted by the many distractable things on the web... one of which is, of course, myspace. Neko Case and Ryan Adams on myspace music for research, posting comments like crazy on friend pages... and then I finally realize that you can claim your own myspace URL (yeah, I'm a bit behind). So as I attempt to create my own, I realize the following are TAKEN:

myspace.com/angelabangela
myspace.com/angiebangie
myspace.com/jumangie
myspace.com/chantastic

Come on!! Who the hell is this teenage boy from Hong Kong thinking he's CHANTASTIC?

Any other suggestions? angbang doesn't work, because it reads, well, a bit pornographic. I would lean towards Angorama, but it looks like rabbit fur with a "ma" at the end. Yeah, Ang just does NOT work as a spelling for my nickname.

I love words that mean opposite things.

A description of the Batsheva Dance Company's new piece, to be performed at Royce Hall in November--

Three, comprises three parts: Bellus (Beauty), Humus (Earth) and Secus, which translates as both "this" and "not this."

confused with this blogger beta business.

Time to work the email wonders of blogger.

Location: good ol' PV
So I just realized I have this total routine when I get home:
1) I go straight to Dad's computer and try to deal with his IE inadequacies and the other things that are going wrong because, well, because it's running a platform that sucks and that is ugly and is not OSX.
2) I crawl into my super extra firm twin bed with a book.  The bed is really small and instead of a sunken in bed valley, it has kind of the opposite, like a raised plateau.  Usually there's the fog horn/it's freezing battle to go to sleep, but not last night.  So that was a welcomed surprise. 
3) I wake up in my super extra firm twin bed.  Because the bed just lends itself to you rolling right off the super firm plateau, I tend to not move a muscle when I sleep here.  So I wake up in the exact same position as when I fall asleep.  Oh, and I always wake up to the sound of Mom's voice.  She is either on the phone or yelling about something, usually "be quiet!  mei mei is sleeping!"
4) I get up and go straight for the family room couch corner, pull on the big heavy towel blanket, and read.  This morning was Jonathan Safran Foer, obviously.
5) When I'm awake enough to get off my ass, I go straight for the piano and play the 2 1/2 songs that I know (not two and one-half... two half-songs.)  I usually throw in a D-flat scale sequence variation for warm-up.
6) Then I actually get up and get around to doing the whole shower/get ready business. 

Now it's off to a dance class with mom.  :)

Don't get me wrong...

...I love Apple and everything Apple has to offer. I love my DropChan, JayTee, and JayDee (the iPod, my first laptop, and my desktop, respectively). I even love my work computer, even though it's name is a bit boring (g4achan).

However... who the f*ck designed computer casing out of ALUMINUM? Isn't aluminum one of the most malleable hard materials we have out there? Like, yes, I'd like my coke can of a computer to be extremely portable so I can transport it everywhere I go.

Granted, I admit I am too much of a klutz to really be around nice things for an extended period of time. But I merely knocked the battery off my desk. And who designed the freakin' battery cover to extend PAST the battery? The old ones you could totally throw around. They were GREAT. And weren't fire hazards. (ok, they were fire hazards as well, but that's not Apple's fault)

Long story short (actually, long story still long), I needle-nosed pliered my battery cover back into place. It ain't pretty, but at least it works.

The (roughly) 10-minute photo series.

Ok, so it's not exactly 10 minutes because who has the time to take photos every 10 minutes (and how weird is it to take a picture on a crowded bus?)

So I've been inspired by Matt to do this (take photos every 10 min of exactly what you're seeing) for a variety of reasons:
1) I was bored waiting for the bus.
2) I love my camera a bit more than anyone should actually love an inanimate object.
3) I have this affinity for knowing/documenting/sharing people's daily lives. We should all carry around digital cameras. The images would be a nice addition to the 15-minute presentation.

So here goes:
9:45am -- uber late start, but totally worth it, and feverishly looking down Westwood Blvd for the #8 or #12, both of which are taking a long time

10:15am -- just getting off the Big Blue on sorority row.

10:25am -- setting up at my desk (in the basement, but of course) for the day after an iced latte stop at Kerchoff

10:50am -- I HATE being a klutz! So I was checking my laptop battery to see if it's one of the ones that poses a fire hazard, and it isn't, and in the process of trying to put it back in, I drop it and dent it! And now it won't fit. UGH!


Ok, I just needed to get that out of my system. Back to work.

The word of the day is bereft.

So lately I've been listening to Dispatch's Elias on repeat. Don't know why, really, given KCRW is actually playing music again. Anyway, it's an absolutely great song. I even sing it while rollerblading (a.k.a. an area more public than my shower and car with the windows rolled up).

So they explain that the intro section in Shona (an official language of Zimbabwe) means: "When you’re feeling bereft of hope and really bummed out, don’t be afraid to lean on your friends to get you through."

Which made me think... I really like the word bereft. We should all try to use that in a sentence today.

We could even add it to the Tad glossary of climbing phrases: "That route is utterly bereft of anything remotely useful."

Red/orange can kiss my calves!

He's tasting victory. I bet it tastes good. Like salt water taffy or a Chunky.

Sent the red/orange!!! FINALLY, geez! I definitely yelled f*ck as I topped out, and possibly at every move past the first three. Such a potty mouth. It's ok, though, because you negate being a potty mouth by actually using the phrase "potty mouth". And by jumping up and down like some freckle-faced school girl in pigtails. You know, the annoying ones you kind of want to kick a little.

So it's done. All the sweat, chalk, bruising, shoulder aches, and strained tendons. Done. And here I am, celebrating with homemade tofu salad, salmon sashimi, Family Guy on TBS (silent, but life-saving), and the lovely folks at blogger. And maybe even a date with Jonathan Safran Foer tonight since I just got it back.

I'm so taking a photo of the route next time I'm in there and posting it, complete with move marking and commentary.

Thanks to all the support (that spanned the state) I've had through these six weeks. Only YOU and your generous SUPPORT could MAKE THIS HAPPEN.

If this doesn't make you want to climb...

...then, maybe you just don't want to climb. And that's ok. To each his own.

Haha... but SERIOUSLY. It was beautiful and overcast and peaceful and the sound of waves crashing and family gatherings saying "kids, don't you dare go up there" and smooth featured slab and sand under your feet... Anyway. See for yourself.


Hey, maybe that's why they call it POINT Dume. (btw, great shot composition, Vicky)


The anchoring expert and novice.


Vicky on her "I'm not going to climb because I'm injured" hiatus.

So this is what my office looks like.

I love summer. Yeah, it's been that long since I stepped foot in here. Wonder if there are any creepy seemingly-floating yellowish spiders. Yeah, ew, but that's what you get for being in the basement of Moore. That and air-conditioning, which is a big deal here.

And a badass cubicle mate. Kim rocks, but she is also leaving. Yet another farewell party. That makes 1,2,... too many to count right now. So many people going off to bigger and better things.

p.s. No, still haven't sent the red/orange. Don't think I'm not pissed off about that. I think they're stripping this weekend (that is, taking the routes down, not being all pole-dancey and shit, though I could see how it could be confusing, and I myself was confused when I first heard that Gillis was a stripper... oh the mental images before putting two and two together). I may have to sneak into the gym sometime this weekend to finish it off.

Red/orange is the new black.

Ugh.

So apparently they didn't strip the bouldering area last weekend like they were supposed to. Maybe some older French dude got caught up in another late night arch conundrum and they didn't get around to it. This means only one thing (only one, nothing else, it means absolutely nothing to others): the !#@$(&*@#%&ing red/orange problem is still up.

I can't believe I've spent THIS long on it. Because if it was one of those problems that I just sort of half-assed, then I really wouldn't care about it. Now it's personal. And I only have myself to blame. Well, and Charles S. Miller.

That's it. I'm sending it tonight. They better feed us well at KCRW today because I need it.

Stupid goal setting.

Hands down, best movie ever.

I used to religiously follow Rotten Tomatoes recommendations. Now I know better.
The Descent on Rotten Tomatoes

They gave The Descent a "fresh" rating (82%/75% cream of the crop). Ha. Well, actually, it did make you scream like a girl and laugh your ass off. But really... there are tons of "wow, this is really bad" moments. So many that I can't count. And I'm a math teacher.

Having said that, though, hot chicks in harnesses, helmets, and petzl headlamps are always badass. Who doesn't want to campus across a deadly abyss two miles below the surface and take a whipper when the 100 yr old piton gives out? Where's your sense of adventure? (I've totally just piqued Vicky's interest like no other. She's going to run out and see this movie. In fact, she's there right now).

Tyson thinks it should be called "Little Miss Sunshine." haha.

H Bowl. Trip 4.

BEST seats so far (and by best, I mean I went "wow, that's what the stage really looks like?"). Leah and I danced up a storm (well as stormish as one can get while trying not to bump into the stoned and passed out woman to my right).

And because photobucket is way too user friendly...


Feel the love.


Leah has way more hair than the Marley sons combined.

Happy Birthday Stacy!

Like you just stepped out of a salon. Because you did.

We took before photos as well, but let's be honest, Stace, we weren't lookin' so hot at 8:30am on a Saturday morning. Four hours and $24 + tip later (+ intimate conversations with our youthful hairdressers who thought Stacy looked 18/21, by the way), voila!



Can I just say that we meet the most interesting folks out in this world? Today was the business student from Kuwait whose granduncle snorted Orangina and who is apparantly is the talk of the town in Corvallis. He thinks Stacy's last name has no history, though. Culturally Insensitive Huxtable. [as I'm probably getting internet stalked by him...]

Stace's birthday festivities ensue any minute now. Surprises are fun, but a lot of work. Especially when you absolutely suck at lying.

Damn, blogging is addictive.

Link to 99 of the 297 photos I took at Yosemite

god bless 2MB memory cards.

By popular demand...

Tim v. Fred. August 5, 2006. Los Angeles, CA.

My friends are funnier than an episode of Friends.

Groggy Friday morning wake up, because Thursday is the new Friday, and the following gmail that brought a smile to my face:

When can I fill you with beers before a 15 minute presentation with
diagrams so that you won't pay attention?

Who's in?!

To living vicariously...

...and to morning hilarity coupled with frenzied giggling
...and to trying to stifle those giggles later in the day
...and to email play-by-plays
...and to emails that just make you laugh your ass off
...and to still laughing your ass off at them the next morning
...and to sharing these moments with the best friends you could ever have.

chink

What a crazy ride.

No, no, hot.

So I just learned from Matt (moronenterprises my ass... it should be GENIUSenterprises... at least sometimes) that pedestrian has both a noun and adjective meaning. Adj: commonplace, unimaginative, lacking inspiration or excitement.

I, however, find that being a pedestrian in LA leads to quite the opposite. I highly recommend a trial run at being a pedestrian, if only for an hour or two. I expect stories much in the same manner as the 15-minute presentation (w/ or w/o powerpoint).

Moments when songs will forever have new meaning. Like U2's Elevation.

Say, my love, I came to you
With best intentions.
You laid down and gave to me just what
I'm seeking
Love, you drive me to distraction.

Hey, my love, do you believe that we
Might last a thousand years
Or more if not for this?
Our flesh and blood it ties
You and me right up
Tie me down

Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
Were climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue,
These things we cannot change

Hey, my love, you came to me like
Wine comes to this mouth
Grown tired of water all the time
You quench my heart and you
Quench my mind

Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
Were climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue,
The things we cannot

Celebrate, you and me, climbing
Two by two, to be sure
These days continue, things we cannot change

Oh, my love, I came to you
With best intentions
You laid down and gave to me just what
Im seeking

Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
Were climbing two by two
To be sure these days continue,
Things we cannot change...
Things we cannot change

Who needs a tip jar?

when the party ends and there's more wine and beer than when it began. either the food was just that good folks were too full to drink. and yes, matt, you can drink naked in my apt while I'm at the hollywood bowl. come on, what are friend's for?

(hint: NOT THAT)

When it's dry, it's a f*ing desert...

...but when it rains, it POURS. Big time. Sheesh.

Did anybody order any sausages?

as the guys enter:


recap of the story later in the evening:

Hands down, best birthday ever.

do you think you could answer all the questions in the world in just one word? You know, twenty-four may have started on the rocky side (and by started, I mean lasted many, many months), but dammit, it transitioned to twenty-five in a big way. Onward.

Rundown of the quarter of the century festivities o' plenty:
Aug 4
12:01am -- The requisite e-mails, e-cards, phone calls begin... I feel so loved.
8:30am -- Mom and Dad give me my birthday present... they help me clean my apt.
12:15pm -- Cal joins us for a lovely Country Market lunch... he doesn't get Rich's humor.
4:00pm -- Errand-craziness... who knew you could get around the westside so efficiently on a Friday afternoon.
5:45pm -- the girls show up to head downtown... with obvious side-tracking at my laptop.
7:00pm -- Dance Downtown, and a mellow, outdoor, summery evening with no planning required and a really tall guy in line... plus we were right about the guys being European (at least some of them)!
10:30pm -- we bring home some Bigg Chill (of course)... extra cold peanut buttery goodness.

Aug 5
7:00am -- see previous post... talk about every emotion possible.
11:00-ish am -- I think the best way to describe jumping out of a plane is utterly indescribably amazing... talk about letting go and being lost in a great way.
1:15 pm -- "the phone test"... looks like we both passed.
3:45 pm -- my second pedicure ever, both with Stacy... I give it four days.
6:00 pm -- the freakishly mad rush to actually throw this dinner party together... thanks to all my lovely sous chefs (or Su chefs, if you will).
7:45ish pm -- the party begins... all my worlds collide over homemade + C&O made Italian food.
11:00 pm -- the requisite pre-Renee's Sapporo chug in Matt's car... maybe it's not that great of an idea to keep beer that cold.
11:45ish pm -- squealingly girly moment... looks like I have a date for next weekend.
12:30 am -- Vicky loses her straw... 'nuff said.
1:30 am -- dive into the leftovers... fork-room only.
1:45 am -- hear the neighbors getting some... at least someone should on my birthday! :)
2:30 am -- the last of the sobered-up guests head home... and it's to bed with a smile and sigh of utter contentment.

clickie clickie for photo album

OMFG.

I am freaked out of my mind.

It's like... if you die doing a day to day thing, it was an uncontrollable accident, an intervention from some higher power, the winds changing, or some shit like that.

But going this way... it's just your own damn fault for doing it. AND dragging a good friend into doing it.

Shit.

Mind over matter.

We all know your body goes out the window after, like, high school. But the mind too? They say your working memory capacity peaks at like 16, so, 9 years after that, I find myself:

1. leaving the keys in the fridge, bottom shelf (yup, it happened Tuesday... I figured it out once I left the apt)

2. throwing away my contacts while cleaning the bathroom and subsequently digging through our building's dumpster 5 min before trash pickup... talk about timing.

It's ok though. I had a nice omega 3-rich lunch with the fam.

Twenty-five is going to be a good one.

My poor achy body is tired.

I think I will go to sleep now, content at the moment.

Countdown.

ridiculously busy week.
reflect.
play hookie at the farmer's market.
rtb + cute boys = new time-consuming activities.
tyson rhymes with bison. angela rhymes with... bangela.
sit on the kitchen counter and chat with mom.
neighbors become friends, friends become neighbors. how about a sweet white wine?
ride the bus with the prof again.
and maybe jump out of a plane or something.

if you die, will I get word that you're gone?...
will I stop short and fall to the ground?

incredibly stoked about Saturday!!!
COME STARVING because the menu just gets bigger and bigger.

hey mell, is it weird that *I* want to wear a tiara??