Bye Bye makingadent.

Ok, I've transitioned over to blogger beta. Or whatever they're calling the new stuff.

Email me for the link. Or use your powers of internet stalking. :)

Here's to a great FOUR YEARS on this thing. Geez.

BYE!

No, me father was a tree.

Perhaps we've become a bit blase about our air travel. No longer do we make sure, under any circumstance, that we are at the airport one full hour before the plane leaves. Who wants to wait at LAX Terminal 1 Gate 3A in line B for more than 5 minutes? No longer do we check and double check our flight departure and arrival times and dates. Why would we, when we so breezily select our flights and pay by credit card at the touch of a track pad?

Well, perhaps we should. Especially when we book our return flight home for the correct day in the wrong month. And miss our flight thinking our arrival time is our departure time. And book our return flight home for the correct day in the wrong month.

Yup, twice.

Damn you and your kinta roll too.

That's it. NO MORE Crazy Fish. I've been sorely disappointed now on more than a handful of occasions. No, I haven't been disappointed by bad food, because, let's be honest, who goes to Crazy Fish for actual sushi. No, I'm pissed off because the place was closed during regular dining hours on a regular day. Again.

I had sworn off this place over a year ago, but every once in a blue moon, I guess every time Mell is in town, somehow the idea that going to Crazy Fish comes up and seems like a good one. So we trudged from LAX to Olympic and Doheny at 6pm on a Friday. And I mean trudged. And all the while, fond memories of eel sauce and whatever they put in dynamite are wafting through your olfactory centers, really subtly at first, then with a power-packed punch as you come within two blocks of the restaurant. So by the time you come within eyesight of the unlit restaurant front with zero customers waiting outside, the combination of a little bit of denial then utter disappointment takes over all higher-order reasoning abilities. And you begin to curse like a sailor. Loudly.

And then you signal left and drive away, experiencing hints of those withdrawal symptoms you thought were long a thing of your past. Because even though you haven't tasted their some-illicit-drug-laced eel sauce in well over a year, your memory refuses to fail you this time.

The Evolution of Bathroom Stall Graffiti.

Over the past few years, I have personally witnessed the evolution of graffiti in the Moore 1st floor women's restroom, stall 3, right-hand wall. It started with a single Jack Johnson lyric:

Seems to me that maybe/pretty much always means no

Then it elicited pertinent responses, ranging from "Seems to me we're a bit angry, aren't we Jack Johnson?" to "Why are you quoting Jack Johnson on a bathroom stall" to "Jack is the best!" and "Jack sucks." Somewhere along the lines, someone else put up another Jack Johnson lyric:

Why don't the newscasters cry when they read about people who die/At least they could be decent enough to put just a tear in their eyes

This spawned a range of responses as well, involving commentary about the role of media in our society. Being a bit more political in nature, THESE markings spurred on a slew of comments about media, corporate america, liberals, liking and disliking Bush. And I believe it was the single "I <3 Bush" comment that led to remarks about girl-girl sex, sex toy varieties, and sexual positions. Oh, and somewhere in there, a left-handed writer turned to the bare left wall of the bathroom stall and commented "Yay, lefties!" That is all that was written on the left wall.

Now, I'm hoping this is a fairly accurate documentation of this stream of bathroom stall graffiti because during my last visit, I had noticed that the markings had finally been cleared away. So perhaps this is in remembrance of the oh-so-profound UCLA women who have left their mark. While peeing.

Back in business.

As much as I love sitting around in my underwear reading books about merde that should just be made into chick flicks starring Jude Law, it feels good to be in the office frantically catching up on work.

God bless self-efficacy.

And the BFF returns to LA tomorrow! Hooray for Crazy Fish and Aunt Kay's cooking.

Since I haven't posted a photo in awhile, here's PV in winter: