A Week In Hell...Er...Grass Valley
Hey there folks. Sorry it has been so long since I've updated...I've had a lot going on. I haven't had a lot of access to the Internet since I've been at my Nana's with no wireless connection...nothing but slow ass dial-up. It wouldn't have worked well. Anyway, that was a crazy week.
I think that vacation was Murphy's Law in action. Anything that could have gone wrong did go wrong...pretty much just while we were in the car for a long time. Traffic, jerks on the road, a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and fairly incompetent AAA employees, hippies, construction, bad directions leading to us getting terribly lost, disappearing roads, nonexistent roads, crazy and inebriated drivers almost getting us killed...yeah, it sucked. Besides, I have become aware of the fact that I have been duped my whole life into believing I had a happy, trouble-free family. It was so tough being around Theresa and Nana because I started realizing all of the completely insane conflicts we have causing tension in our family, and all we do is attempt to hide it. I've noticed that quite often we try to be people we aren't for sometimes very ridiculous reasons. I don't know, maybe I'm just weird and paranoid.
On a lighter note, I provide this gift of Zen...
This is a picture I stole from Paz's computer. Shane played it up at Firefly talking about the "Mexican Colonel Sanders." So he doesn't really look that much like Colonel Sanders, but he has a mad cool mustache, yeah? It cracks me up every time I look at it. His suit is very Colonel Sanders-ish minus the red stripes on the sleeves, and at a glance that donations jar looks like a bucket of Original Recipe. Or maybe it's Extra Crispy. Who knows?
Back to the trip from Hell...I'll give you some good news. Theresa and I totally switched roles when we went to the Nevada County Fair. This is completely nuts, people, listen up. It all began when Theresa caught a glimpse of a guy in a brown shirt that she thought was hot. Not much later, I saw a guy in a hypnotist show who looked, to me, a bit like John Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls. (For those of you who don't know, John Rzeznik is a hottie.) Theresa and I made this pact that if we spotted our guys, we had to talk to them. For those of you who know me, you know this is difficult. I am very shy and anti-social, especially when it comes to cute guys. My cousin, on the other hand, is gorgeous and charismatic and all of that good stuff so it's twice as difficult when I'm standing in her shadow. Naturally, the first time she pointed out Rzeznik (as he came to be known) I wussed out, so she wouldn't talk to brown shirt boy. The next time we saw him, he was with a friend and so I thought it would be good if Theresa and I went up and talked to them together. It was going well but Theresa said goodbye and walked off before I got a chance to get Rzeznik's number or give him mine. I swore to remedy this if I saw him again, but Theresa was refusing to talk to brown shirt boy, saying she had done her time talking to Rzeznik's friend. This, of course, was total bullshit. I never saw Rzeznik again all night but I comforted myself by remembering that he was younger than me anyway. I was slightly bummed until BOOM...I saw Johnny. Johnny is a guitarist in a band called Holden which I, personally had never heard of, but I guess they're pretty big in Idaho, and I think their drummer is Kevin Bacon's nephew. I didn't know this until after I had ripped a piece of paper off of a flyer, gotten a pen from a booth, scrawled my cell phone number on it, gotten Johnny's attention and handed him the paper. I suppose if I had known that Holden was fairly famous I might not have given up my number. I would have been too shy. As it was, my cousin and I had switched roles for the night and I was suddenly the outgoing one. She never did talk to the brown shirt boy.
I'm recalling this now because I got a mysterious call on my cell phone tonight while I was at Anthony's. Usually this is no concern of mine, because I get a lot of weird calls from people thinking I am someone else, (that happens a lot with cell phones), but in my sphere of experience all the wrong numbers have been 707 numbers...i.e. my area code. Never before have I had a 530. This could be promising. I'm going to call the number tomorrow and see where it gets me. I sure hope it's Johnny, because if it isn't I will get one of those pissed off guys not knowing what I'm talking about and wondering why the hell I called them. I hate that.
Anyway, I have too much to do within the next couple of days, but I love Rufus Wainwright and I may still have some free time. If you would like me to pencil you in to my schedule, just give me a call or an IM and make an appointment or something to that effect. Oh, and if anyone wants chinchillas, let me know!
P.S...For those of you who didn't figure it out, the guy with me in the picture in my last journal entry is, in fact, Tyler. That's right, THE Tyler.
I think that vacation was Murphy's Law in action. Anything that could have gone wrong did go wrong...pretty much just while we were in the car for a long time. Traffic, jerks on the road, a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and fairly incompetent AAA employees, hippies, construction, bad directions leading to us getting terribly lost, disappearing roads, nonexistent roads, crazy and inebriated drivers almost getting us killed...yeah, it sucked. Besides, I have become aware of the fact that I have been duped my whole life into believing I had a happy, trouble-free family. It was so tough being around Theresa and Nana because I started realizing all of the completely insane conflicts we have causing tension in our family, and all we do is attempt to hide it. I've noticed that quite often we try to be people we aren't for sometimes very ridiculous reasons. I don't know, maybe I'm just weird and paranoid.
On a lighter note, I provide this gift of Zen...
This is a picture I stole from Paz's computer. Shane played it up at Firefly talking about the "Mexican Colonel Sanders." So he doesn't really look that much like Colonel Sanders, but he has a mad cool mustache, yeah? It cracks me up every time I look at it. His suit is very Colonel Sanders-ish minus the red stripes on the sleeves, and at a glance that donations jar looks like a bucket of Original Recipe. Or maybe it's Extra Crispy. Who knows?
Back to the trip from Hell...I'll give you some good news. Theresa and I totally switched roles when we went to the Nevada County Fair. This is completely nuts, people, listen up. It all began when Theresa caught a glimpse of a guy in a brown shirt that she thought was hot. Not much later, I saw a guy in a hypnotist show who looked, to me, a bit like John Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls. (For those of you who don't know, John Rzeznik is a hottie.) Theresa and I made this pact that if we spotted our guys, we had to talk to them. For those of you who know me, you know this is difficult. I am very shy and anti-social, especially when it comes to cute guys. My cousin, on the other hand, is gorgeous and charismatic and all of that good stuff so it's twice as difficult when I'm standing in her shadow. Naturally, the first time she pointed out Rzeznik (as he came to be known) I wussed out, so she wouldn't talk to brown shirt boy. The next time we saw him, he was with a friend and so I thought it would be good if Theresa and I went up and talked to them together. It was going well but Theresa said goodbye and walked off before I got a chance to get Rzeznik's number or give him mine. I swore to remedy this if I saw him again, but Theresa was refusing to talk to brown shirt boy, saying she had done her time talking to Rzeznik's friend. This, of course, was total bullshit. I never saw Rzeznik again all night but I comforted myself by remembering that he was younger than me anyway. I was slightly bummed until BOOM...I saw Johnny. Johnny is a guitarist in a band called Holden which I, personally had never heard of, but I guess they're pretty big in Idaho, and I think their drummer is Kevin Bacon's nephew. I didn't know this until after I had ripped a piece of paper off of a flyer, gotten a pen from a booth, scrawled my cell phone number on it, gotten Johnny's attention and handed him the paper. I suppose if I had known that Holden was fairly famous I might not have given up my number. I would have been too shy. As it was, my cousin and I had switched roles for the night and I was suddenly the outgoing one. She never did talk to the brown shirt boy.
I'm recalling this now because I got a mysterious call on my cell phone tonight while I was at Anthony's. Usually this is no concern of mine, because I get a lot of weird calls from people thinking I am someone else, (that happens a lot with cell phones), but in my sphere of experience all the wrong numbers have been 707 numbers...i.e. my area code. Never before have I had a 530. This could be promising. I'm going to call the number tomorrow and see where it gets me. I sure hope it's Johnny, because if it isn't I will get one of those pissed off guys not knowing what I'm talking about and wondering why the hell I called them. I hate that.
Anyway, I have too much to do within the next couple of days, but I love Rufus Wainwright and I may still have some free time. If you would like me to pencil you in to my schedule, just give me a call or an IM and make an appointment or something to that effect. Oh, and if anyone wants chinchillas, let me know!
P.S...For those of you who didn't figure it out, the guy with me in the picture in my last journal entry is, in fact, Tyler. That's right, THE Tyler.